Plethaid - Ye Olde Koolaid

I need bratty sergeant and Simon Riley smut (im sorry if this is too blunt and also you don’t have to do this, okay ily)

"if you don't shut it, i'll shut it for you" / one-shot -> bratty!sergeant x simon riley [3] (can be read independently) part one - part two

⠀ ⠀⠀ `· . dead-flight .ᐟ masterlist -> REQUESTS OPEN!

cw: smut smut smut, oral (simon recieving), fingering (r), edging, overstim, rough sex, helicopter-fuckin', "pup", consentual sex!!!, fingers in mouth, one face slap, "slut" x1, p in v, creampie

he's fucking tired, the lot of his muscles aching with a deep, cloying need. he wanted to collapse on his barrack and dissapear for a week. the helicopter rumbles with sound as he sits on a jumpseat, closing his eyes to lean his head back against the walls.

"Lt!" his eyes open, and he swears, if he hears your voice again, he's about to pick you up and throw you off the fuckin' chopper.

"did you see that shot i lined up? wasn't that so cool--"

"sergeant. if y'don't shut y'reself up, i'll stuff y'r mouth myself," simon mutters, and if looks could kill, you may as well be on the ground, bleeding out.

you pause for a second, and then start right back up, moving to sit right beside him, prattling on and on about the mission, about your plans when you get home--

then you went and leaned over. just close enough to check if he was really listening. you barely even noticed what you were doing, but he did. tits pressed against him, your head craning to see if he was actually paying attention.

"sergeant, what the hell did i tell you?"

you freeze. are you actually in trouble, this time? the rest of the ride is filled with a tense silence, and you stare at him awkwardly, giving him big, apologetic eyes every time he looks at you.

how can you blame him for acting the way he is? pent up to hell, cock clubbed up in his pants, straining needily against the fabric? he nearly dealt with it the moment you landed. he wanted to shut you up, and wanted to see you cry when he did.

"so fuckin' loud," he huffs under his breath, and the moment the rest of the squad leaves the helicopter, simon takes the opportunity to grab you as you're leaving, forcing you back into a jumpseat and slamming the door closed.

the moment your back hits the jumpseat, you should've known you were fucked. "you just don't stop talking, do you, sergeant? like a ditzy, dumb f'ckin' pup."

he stands over you, his hand tugging your chin upwards, "what'd i say? that if you ran your mouth, i'd shut you up, yeah? i just fuckin' might."

your breath quickens, and you dig your fingers into his forearm, trying to pull him off, "sir--m' sorry, won't talk as much--" here you were, thinking he was going to sentence you to a thousand pushups and a hundred laps around base, but simon had other ideas.

"shut up." he stuffs his thumb into your mouth, pressing the digit down against your tongue.

you let out a strangled choking sound, blinking up at him in surprise. "god, m' gonna stuff your fuckin' mouth..." his eyes are dark, heavily lidded, and as you search past the mask, you note the lust taking over the forefront of his mind. "nod, lass, if y'want me to. i don't wanna hear words 'less you want me to stop."

you manage a nod. he gives you a nod of approval, his thumb dragging out of your mouth, smearing your saliva on your cheek. "fuckin' good pup."

his gloved hands pull at his plate carrier, tugging it off and dropping it on the seat opposite to you, shedding his headgear with it. he rolls his shoulders, grunting as he tugs off his shirt, leaving him in a tight, compression undershirt. you watch him like you're starved, taking in every contour of his muscles. he sheds his gloves too, tosses them to the jumpseat.

"like what y'see?" he teases, moving close, grabbing you by your hair, fingers digging into the strands. his free hand tugs down the zipper of his pants, reaching into his boxers and freeing his cock. it's heavy in his hand, flushed tip already drooling precum.

you blink up at him, eyes pleading silently, "sir, please, can i--"

his hand comes down on your cheek. "what'd i say, sergeant? shut up."

he's pulling your hair back, guiding you to open your mouth, and you do, his hips easing forward, the tip of his cock spreading your mouth open around his shaft. "suck, sergeant," he hisses, biting his tongue as you do.

you do. and fuck him, he's not touched himself for a damn long time. your lips seal around him like you're trying to milk him dry, your tongue flicking over his slit, sucking up precum and moaning while you do it--he almost cums right then and there.

"fuck'n hell, lass, you're..." he tightens his grip on your head, pulling you away, his chest heaving, "fuck."

"strip f'me, doll. wanna see y'spread out f'me, yeah?" he watches you, and it's not meant to be sexy, it's messy, how you tug your clothes off desperately, wanting to feel him against you. that desperation makes warmth pool in his gut.

he stops you when you're in your bra, your panties, nude coloured undergarments. but it makes some part of him scream. he kneels before you, eyes trained on your cunt.

"gonna be good f'me?" he's shoving your panties to the side, his thumb pressing to your swollen clit, satisfaction reflected in his eyes as your hips jump forwards needily. the way he speaks to you--speaks to your pussy--as if you aren't even part of the conversation has you leaking.

he smears your juices across your folds, twisting his hand to push a meaty finger in you, massaging your velvety walls, and he moans, his free hand digging into the skin of your hip, "fuck, doll, you're so f'ckin tight f'me."

all you give him is a series of choked moans, a breathy "please, please, please," and a tight squeeze of you around his fingers.

"so wet, i could slide right in, huh?"

it was like being pulled apart and stitched back together, as he curls his fingers deep against your gummy walls, drawing you right there. so close, if only a hair's breadth from falling apart--

he pulls away.

"fuck, simon!" you whine, your eyes welling with tears, "please, please..."

"no," he mutters, slapping your soaking pussy, a sadistic grin falling over his face as he watches how your hips jolt upwards, seeking more. his hand moves to pull off his balaclava, and before you can gawk at his face, he leans up, kissing you--the action is gentler than before, his tongue sweeping your mouth and claiming.

when he pulls away, he's panting, his hand moving to grip his hard shaft, fisting it, pushing against your thigh. "fuckin' hell." he lets go of his cock, pulling you up and holding you up over his cock, lowering you down. one hand holds you, wraps around your waist like you're weightless, the other guiding his cock past your tight entrance.

"tight as hell, sergeant. who knew y'r bratty mouth could be shut up so easily by a good fuckin'?"

he lowers you down slowly. just enough to keep you clenching desperately as you try to ease more of him in, to accomodate more--the burn is deliciously pleasurable. when you ease all of him in, he moans into your ear, his teeth moving to suckle at your neck.

he pounds into you, ferally. lifts you up, drops you down over his cock, your combined fluids dripping down his shaft and falling to the floor.

"fuck, gonna make me cum, this fuckin' cunt... s'pretty f'me, drippin' so much..."

you moan, squeezing harshly down on him, clenching, his fingers digging into your hip hard enough to leave marks. he buries his head in your neck, bites down on your skin like he'll leave a mark, muffling his noises.

"you keep clenchin' on me like that n' i'm gonna--" you're mewling, drooling against him, fingers tugging at his messy hair. he's wanted you like this for the longest time, spread out for him and at his mercy... suddenly the hours of torture of you teasing him is all worth it.

but you're so on edge, from his denial of your orgasm, that when he bullies his cock right against that spot in your walls, you're clenching down on him, digging your fingers into his trapezius and throwing your head back. you're a wreck, but simon's not done.

keeps you bouncing on him, and he's just so close, spurred on by your spasming walls and desperate whimpers. "mmh, fuck, who'dve known that such a fuckin' bratty little slut 's just a needy fuckin' bird," his voice is hoarse, stuttered by grunts as he uses you like a toy.

"fuck'm coming, take--take it all," he manages, pulling you flush against him, your hips right against his pelvis as he pumps his load deep inside you, filling you up. like he owned you.

for once, you were quiet. but now that you know you can get him to behave like this? you won't be quiet for long.

captain mactavish outside the bar: *lighting a cigarette* "when i graduated high school you were 13 isnt that weird"

riley, so drunk he cant stand straight: "can yuo put that out on me"

Weaknesses part 5: complexes

Note: this is jokes!! Please don’t take my cartoon pathologizing too seriously!

cw: some daddy kink level stuff

Gaz has a soft spot for girls who suffer from oldest sister syndrome. Girls that are a little world weary and too grown up at too young an age from caring for others while not having people to rely on. He just loves how pleasantly surprised you are literally every time he does something helpful that you didn’t ask him to do. Doing the dishes. Spackling that hole from the picture you took down. Refilling the air in the tires. Bleaching the bathtub. Very small things— but you’re so used to being the only one who can stay on top of things. Literally the high he gets from telling you to sit down and relax is unparalleled.

Soap is, quite frankly, into girls who grew up thinking they were ugly. It’s a terribly selfish, but he likes telling you all of the dirty things he thinks of doing to you, how he feels like someone’s knocked him upside the head when you enter a room in a new outfit, how he has to take a cold shower every time you’re going out to some event and he gets to see you dressed up. Honestly, he has to take the cold showers pretty regularly. Seeing how you’re flustered, and you don’t 100% believe the things he says— so he has to put in the time to make you believe him. You’re the kind of girl boys would dare each other to ask out in middle school, and now Soap has the absolute pleasure of convincing you that sometimes you make him so turned on that he thinks he’s about to throw up.

Ghost likes outcast girls. He likes how you eye him with a little bit of suspicion when he chooses to hang around you. He sort of gets this idea in his head that he’s the only one that can handle your eccentricities— handle you. That other people are afraid to approach you but he’s not afraid of anything. That his interest in you is because honestly, he has a much more refined palate than any of the shitheads you’re surrounded by. And you know what? He likes the idea of you as a couple being the scary, freak ass couple. Two lone wolves becoming mates.

Price likes former gifted students. He loves that you’re talented and quick, yes, but he also can’t help but get excited by all of that pressure that’s on you— that you put on yourself. He gets to be the one that relieves it. He’s the one that gets to lavish you in praise, and he’s also the one who gets to pin you down and force you to take it easy for a little while. He loves gently handling any mistakes or missteps, rationally perceived or otherwise. Because he can tell no one’s ever bothered to treat you so gently, have they, sweetheart? They’ve just been content to push you to your limits and have you run yourself ragged because you’re special. You are, he won’t deny it— but you’re also a little thing that hasn’t seen enough nurturing, in his eyes.

König loves so called “high maintenance” girls. Girls with high standards who know what they want, who have gone through some partners that couldn’t take the heat. He gets a very unique sense of control out of it— knowing all of your rules, rituals, likes, dislikes. Like Ghost, he likes thinking of himself as the only person who knows how to handle you— that everyone before him has just been unworthy of you. That he is strong where others have been weak. And you know what? It’s not rotten work. Not to him. Not if it’s you. He’s just built different.

Nikolai… I’m just going to say it. He likes girls with daddy issues. He kinda throws his whole self into relationships at times, and he likes it when he can be your everything. Your love, your friend, your hero, your source of approval from an older man. And he loves a brat. Because he knows you only act that way because someone didn’t pay attention to his special girl in the past. You’re testing him— daring him, unsheathing your claws to see if he’ll flinch and he never will. He’ll endure it all and chip at your defenses until you’re the soft, satisfied, sweet girl he knows you really want to be. Lavishing you with praise and attention, bragging about you to anyone who will listen. He wants you to have a complete breakdown because you’ve been holding it all in and putting up walls for so long that you don’t even know how to cope with being in the arms of someone who will always catch you when you fall.

reblog if you believe fanfics are as valid as books that were published and sold by authors who write as their main careers. I'm trying to prove a point

Elendil from Lord of the Rings : the Rings of Power

I love everything about Numenor, the outfits, the armors, the architecture !

when gandalf and the dwarves arrived at bag end

Thranduil: THERE'S NOTHING WRONG WITH MY SON, HE'S PERFECTLY FINE!

Legolas:

I think you just invented christianity?

Frodo: *stabbed by an immortal blade*

The Hobbits: What do we do Mr. Strider

The Hobbits: *looking to this big scary mountain man so intimidating and mysterious they don’t even know his real name*

Aragorn, truly just some guy at heart: I’m gonna call my dad

I love the concept of Tooks. "Everybody in the Shire is very very businesslike and respectable and has no use for adventures except for this one entire family of mad lads who also run the municipal government"