Latest Posts by thatonepupkai - Page 6

Y/n, bursting in: my day was just made!

Ghost, not looking up from his report: What kind of cat was it?

Y/n: ORANGE!!

✦C.o.D w/ a MILF!Y/N✦

(Fem!Reader, between 38-48, use of Y/N, no nationality but Y/N lives in Wales. Mentions of mommy issues, war, (brief) survivors guilt, panic attack in Simon's, mentions of PTSD.)

The task force was lead around by the commander of a base located in Swansea, Wales. They’d been called in for their help on a series of missions that had grown slowly more and more treacherous, finding more evidence of war crimes and shady dealings hidden under businesses the more they went. So, when John got the letters on his desk asking for assistance, he reluctantly agreed. It seemed like work he didn’t quite find worth it for his men’s time. However, the promise of meeting one of their best was certainly interesting.

Kyle leaned forward to whisper to his Captain while the General rambled about their inventory to ask a question. “Cap, don’t you feel this deal is a bit odd?” He asked. “What do you mean?” Price replied quietly. “They’re offering us a soldier for our help, like holding out candy to get a kid to clean their room.” Kyle explained. John hummed and glanced in front of him, considering the words. He went to reply before the General chuckled. “You know, both of you are very bad at whispering.” The old man explained.

Kyle cringed and backed up a bit, lightly elbowing Soap who’d started snickering. Price sighed. “I apologize, I don’t mean to offend you.” He said, but the General waved his hand dismissively. “No no, I understand the sentiment. But, to ease your worries, we’re offering you a new team member because Lieutenant L/N wants a change. Feelin’ stuck doesn’t do a soldier much good.” He explained. “Hence why I suggested you. Really, it’d be another addition to your already impressive team. This is just a chance to show you that, and for Lieutenant L/N to see if joining a team like this would work.”

Hearing that it was the Lieutenant’s decision helped the deal seem less questionable. Although Price was still hesitant. His team was as good as it got in his mind, though he knew it was likely bias that made him feel that way. Ghost behind him let out a near-silent scoff at the suggestion of someone new. They didn’t need someone new, as far as he was concerned. A helicopter overhead was heard, heading to the tarmac. The General smiled and motioned for them to walk in that direction. “Well, when do we get to meet him then?” Soap asked, as they reached the blacktop, the helicopter blades slowing. The General stopped in front of them and turned with a furrowed brow. “Him? No no, this is Lieutenant L/N.” He motioned behind him and gave the team a bit of a shock. Walking away from the helicopter was a woman, about Price’s age, showing a smile and confidence in her walk. “How was your flight, L/N?” General called kindly. The woman laughed as she got closer.

“As smooth as a helicopter can be in this awful weather.” She replied. She came to a stop beside the old man, who seemed to beam with pride as he motioned to her. “Captain Price, this is Lieutenant L/N.” She shook her head as her hands rested on her hips. “No need for that. Y/N and my call sign work just fine.” She held out her hand for John to shake. “Nice to meet you, Captain. Look forward to working with you!” Price smiled back and shook her hand firmly. His shoulders felt oddly lax, something he found noticeable. “The pleasure’s all mine, Y/N.” He replied before turning to his team. “This is my task force. Gaz, Soap, and Ghost.” Y/N tilted her head at the large man. “Nice mask, big guy. I like it!” She complimented. Ghost blinked before he sighed quietly and looked away. Her smile turned more sympathetic, noting his tense stance. Intimidating to anyone else, but she mostly saw awkwardness. He clearly wasn’t used to compliments. Her attention was pulled when Soap cleared his throat and waved his hand. “Yes?”

“What’s your call sign? Ya mentioned it, but ya didn’t actually tell us.” Soap asked. Y/N nodded and opened her mouth to answer, but she was cut off by a shout in the distance. Some random soldiers walking toward a humvee, suited up for a battle. “Welcome back, Ma!” One shouted while waving. Y/N grinned and waved back. “Come back with most of your limbs, boys!” She exclaimed. The soldiers laughed and nodded. She sighed with a grin, shaking her head before she turned back. “That. That would be my call sign.”

Kyle rose an eyebrow. “Ma? They call you Ma?” He asked. “Mhm. Also mum, momma, had a youngster call me momther? Not sure about that one. Usually it’s a variation of that, even my General calls me Ma sometimes.” She chuckled. Kyle tilted his head at that. “So, do you have kids?” His question was met with a head shake. “Nope. Wanted them when I was younger, but that ship kinda sailed. I’m not quite sure when the boys starting calling me that, but it seemed to catch on.” She explained with a shrug. She beamed again with her shoulders squared.

“Can’t wait to work with you boys!”

✧Kyle Garrick✧

(Platonic)

I think he’s got a bit of a strained relationship with his mom. They’re not completely estranged and he doesn’t think she’s a terrible mom by any means, but she definitely has done things that have and continue to negatively affect him. In short, mommy issues. And we know what that means.

Kyle treats you like he treats Price. Respectful, cordial, and he keeps any goofing off & jokes til after he knows you better. After that, he remains as polite as ever, but he’s more willing to let his guard down.

He’s a bit weakened to gentle affection and praise. He tries not to be, but he really likes the acknowledgment. It makes him feel important and seen.

Definitely has a little crush on you, even in the platonic version. It’s like a little school boy crush that he’s able to get over easily. Sometimes his face grows warm when you compliment him, and sometimes his gaze lingers a little longer. But he’s not painfully pining.

Probably the easiest to make open up to you. Some gentle words and a promise to give a shoulder to lean on goes a long way.

“You alright?” Kyle looked up when he heard Y/N’s voice behind him. He snapped his head away, fiddling with the velcro on his tactical gloves. He cleared his throat awkwardly. “Uh, yeah. Yeah I’m good.” He coughed. The woman behind him didn’t buy it, frowning sympathetically. She walked forward and rested a gentle hand on his back. “Kyle…” Her voice was soft and sweet. He let out a heavy breath and looked up at her, exposing guilt ridden eyes. “Hun, you have to understand that it wasn’t your fault.” Y/N whispered, raking her nails along his shoulders. “I just feel like if I had moved faster-“ The end of his sentence got cut off with a voice crack. He wasn’t new to the cruelty of war anymore, but that didn’t mean it ever really got easier. He’d been slow to notice an enemy sniper. A young recruit lost their life to the bullet and Kyle watched them die. And now he felt responsible. Y/N hushed him soothingly. She circled around to stand in front of him, pulling his head to rest on her. “I know you feel guilty, but you’re not faster than a bullet Kyle. You did everything you could on that battlefield. If you weren’t there, a lot more lives would’ve been lost.” She explained as he clenched his eyes shut, leaning into her. Y/N leaned down to kiss the top of his skull. “Go ahead and let it out, hun.” And he did. It was hard to remain tough in these circumstances, even harder to remain stubborn under a blanket of security she seemed to give. When he had poured out his remorse and anger and was left feeling empty and exhausted, he sighed pulled back. “Thanks Ma.” He sniffled. “Don’t mention it, sweetie. How about we get you a snack, hm? I snuck in some of those brownies you like.” She whispered with a smile. He gave a watery chuckle and nodded.

(Romantic)

As I said, he ends up with a little crush when he first gets to know you anyway. He’s got a thing for the DILF/MILF type. Ask Johnny, he’s definitely heard Gaz’ fair share of little comments about how hot their captain is.

His pining grows the more attention he gets from you. The more doting, the mushier he gets. The more praise he gets the more he’ll do more. Gaz does his best to remain subtle about it, sometimes he notices how he's acting and it makes him grow embarrassed.

Depending on how bad the crush is, he’ll start to try and be your favorite in every room while also remaining professional.

Unless he’s in the room with the recruits that started the whole “mom” trend, you know, the ones that are most likely to actually view you like a mom? Yeah then he’s a little shit, cause he wants to rub it in their faces that you like him so much.

Probably has one of your boys threaten him, honestly.

“Back off our Lieutenant, Garrick.” “Hey, it’s not my fault she likes me more than you.”

To be clear, he doesn’t just like you cause you’re an older lady who’s pretty. That’s just part of his type. Kyle’s a pretty empathetic soul, and he’ll notice little things in the most primal parts of your personality, and compliment those things. He’s sweet and understanding. The main thing he does that most men between 35-50 don’t do is give you shit for having a strong personality.

The fact you’re a strong woman is a major plus for him. Kyle likes direction at this point in his life, and to get it from someone who knows what they’re doing, but doesn’t hold that power over him? Really nice.

When he finally gets the confidence to make some moves (mostly encouraged by Soap), he goes classic romantic style. Leaving gifts on your desk, bringing you flowers, complimenting you with words that have several syllables. The way he asks you out? He writes a poem/letter. It’s ridiculously sweet, he even does his best to keep his handwriting elegant. (Insert that line from Hamilton; “I noticed a comma in the middle of a phrase. It changed the meaning, did you intend this? One stroke and you’ve consumed why waking days. You’ve written “ My dearest Angelica”, with a comma after dearest-“)

Y/N covered her mouth as she reread the letter once again. She’d gone through every word probably seven times now. Elegantly placed pen strokes describing how her sergeant…or, a sergeant she worked with, viewed her. Comparing her presence to the warmth of the sun and her voice being as gentle as notes of a piano. Kyle had been an absolute sweetheart since she’d first met him, and that had only gotten progressively more and more noticeable as time had passed. She wasn’t oblivious. She could see his bashful grin when she praised him, the fact he looked at her a bit too long after a mission. The flowers and gifts were something more recent. But, Y/N was his superior, and she’d never grown out of the fear of misreading signals that she held from her teenager years. And yet, here was a confession from a young man at least twenty years her junior. It was a little too flattering. There was a conflict between their ranks, not to mention her age. She’d be lying if she said she hadn’t been a little flirty, but pulled back because she worried she was too old for him. Kyle was distracting himself at the moment. He was on watch, up on the roof, fiddling with a rubix cube while music blasted in his ears through some earbuds. He wasn’t even doing his job, he was just trying to calm his nerves. Lingering on what ifs and the fear of rejection. He had half the mind to go find Johnny and strangle him for talking him into it. In his anxious thinking, he didn’t hear the door behind him open, nor the light steps taken toward him. Kyle jumped when one of his earbuds was taken from his ear. He turned his head, ready to apologize to who he thought was Price, only to be met with a face that bewitched and terrified him. “Bit loud, isn’t it? You’ll hurt your hearing, sweetheart.” She said. Kyle swallowed and paused the song, taking the other earbud out. “I uh, ahem, right.” There was a silence that passed between them until he felt the tension was too strong. He sighed and stood up, burning with embarrassment. “Look, I’m sorry. I know it’s unprofessional and it could complicate things-“ he began. Y/N rested her hands on her hips as he went on, unable to fight off a smile he couldn’t see. Since he was too busy looking at the ground. She waited for Kyle to pause, let him take in a deep breath. The man jumped when a hand came under his chin and tilted it up, forcing him into eye contact. Her grin widened and she tilted her head. “I’m your superior. You know that?” She said. He deflated and nodded. “So, you have to do as I say.” Kyle’s brows furrowed but he nodded again. He melted despite the shame when her warm hand cupped his cheek, stroking the small scar. “Shut up and kiss me, sweetheart.” Her words stunned him. Kyle forced an inhale so he wouldn’t suffocate. “Is…is that an order?” He mumbled. “It is.” Y/N replied, sweet and expecting. In a mix of relief and ecstatic joy, Kyle followed through. Happy to learn she was just as warm and soothing as he’d dreamt she’d be.

✧Johnny MacTavish✧

(Platonic)

One of the few C.o.D characters that has a good relationship with his mom. In all honesty, he's a bit of a momma's boy. He doesn't need a motherly figure, BUT, he's really comforted by the maternal energy you give off.

He can't see his mom often, and when he's feeling homesick, you definitely help.

Johnny's a pretty open and casual-type guy. He doesn't take long to feel comfortable around you. Leading to lots of affection from him and a lot of him seeking affection from you. Hugs, head pats. He's also the most likely to take a nap on you, if you allow it. In fact, he probably has some of the best rest of his life when he's resting near the people he trusts, but it's not like he can waltz over to Kyle and flop across his lap, so he's grateful for you.

Also a bit of a praise seeker. He's sensitive to rejection and criticism, but thrives when he gets something right. When he does need correction and pointers, your stern but kind tone is the perfect way to hear it.

"Oh fucks sake!" "Easy Johnny, don't lose your head. Let's try again, but this time, I want you to keep more on your right. Okay, hun?" "Right, got it. Thanks ma!"

Definitely flirts a little, but he knows when to quit to keep things comfortable between you two. Usually, he compliments you the most when he sees you picking at something on yourself. Be it lines in your skin or the way your hair is styled that day. He likes talking and hyping you up.

If you're on the dating scene, he's your biggest supporter and hype man. Definitely throws out that "dress your age" shit. Even if you're not getting dressed up for a date or something, he still heavily encourages you to doll yourself up for simple hang outs during leave. His mother and older sister always included him on girls nights, so he knows how to handle a night like that and loves them to no end.

"Oh I don't know Johnny, this dress looks more suited for a twenty-something." Y/N sighed as she smoothed down a form fitting dress. One that exposed her shoulders, coming down to her lower thigh, matching with some small heels. "Ahh fuck off wit' that! You look gorgeous, hush yer mouth and adjust your tits. We're getting tequila!" The Scotsman shouted. She busted up laughing as he dragged her toward the bar. He pushed open the door and ushered her in, grinning ear to ear. Music blared and the lights were colorful, bouncing off the shiny surface of her dog tags. They both got a place at the bar and right away, Johnny got to gossiping whilst sipping a tequila sunrise. "And then, oh the nerve this boy had. He looked me in the eye and said, "why would I listen to you, lady?"" Y/N mimicked a voice, watching as her coworker's jaw dropped with a gasp. "Now I was disrespectful, but that's too much. What'cha do to the moron?" He asked mischievously. Y/N chuckled and sipped her cocktail. "General walked past, said "Good morning, Lieutenant L/N." That was it, I didn't need to do anything. You should've seen the kids face, Johnny. Starting groveling." She snickered. He threw his head back with a loud laugh, hitting his fist on the bar top a few times. As he came down, taking a deep breath, he glanced at Y/N who tapped his arm. "Oh sergeant, you've got an admirer.~" She teased, pointing to a corner of the bar. Soap looked over and locked eyes with a muscular stranger with a sharp jaw and dark eyes, long hair in locs tied back with an elastic. The man jolted when he noticed Johnny looking back, looking down at a half-finished beer when the Scotsman smiled at him. "Oh he's cute." Soap muttered. "Go get his number." Y/N nudged. "You sure?" "Positive! Just let me know if he's got any red flags, and make sure you have your location on. Can't have my bomb-tech getting caught up in something." Y/N fussed over his hair. She licked her thumb and wiped some dirt off his cheek, making him groan and swat at her hands. "Pipe down, ma, I got it!" He said. She sighed and watched him walk toward the pretty stranger, snorting when he adjusted his mohawk. "Nothin' but trouble, that one." Y/N joked with the bartender.

(Romantic)

Flirting to the maximum. Unlike Gaz, he's a little less concerned with professionalism. He's respectful, yes, but he doesn't necessarily see why business and pleasure have to be separated.

Johnny doesn't really have a type, but he's certainly got a pattern of going for people who are quiet and experienced. Especially people who have leadership skills.

Gets flustered when he's cooed over. He hates being babied, but he likes being coddled. (I know that's confusing but I promise there's a difference) He's a grown, capable man, and a fast learner. But, he's also fond of a break from the harshness of the world he tends to exist in. Being cradled, being called pet names, little acts of kindness to make his life easier? He adores these things.

Definitely tries to make his attraction well known, but lighthearted enough to where he can easily pull back if you seem to respond poorly to it. But, responding positively has him leaning in even more.

Shockingly, he takes a bit to properly open up. He doesn't mind being openly affectionate or complaining about mundane things, but it takes awhile to see him admit to deep insecurities and dark thoughts that plague him. But when you catch him in a vulnerable position, when you make him feel comforted and still strong despite his emotions, he'll start coming to you when he feels that way again.

A lot of the time he vents, not necessarily wanting advice but just wanting an ear. He loves your advice though, it always feels well thought out. Occasionally though, he doesn't speak and he doesn't want help, he just wants company. These are times where he usually lays in your lap and rests off his stress.

Depending on how flirty you are back, he might use your callsign to try and fluster you. Honestly, it usually backfires.

"Do I get a reward now, mommy?~" "Hmm, depends. What does my good boy want?" "I, uh- ahaha..."

Again, he hypes you up a lot, even more so when he's openly hitting on you. Motherfucker(heh) pulls out the god damn Spanish his bestie Alejandro taught him. Whether you're covered in gunpowder or dressed to the nines, he'll call you a "sight for sore eyes" or let a sharp whistle out into the air.

Loves if you give him any praise/favoritism if there are other people attracted to you in the room. He gets a look on his face like a smug cat. (You know that meme with the cat surrounded by knives? Like that)

He doesn't really ask you out properly. As I mentioned, he's sensitive to rejection. But he does constantly test the waters to see if there will be a moment where a defining moment can be snuck in. He's waiting for the tension to snap on it's own.

Johnny huffed as he got out of the shower. It had been a long, exhausting mission. Only an hour had passed this the helicopter landed back at the base, having transported Soap, Ghost, and some other men from the safe house they'd been hiding out in. Johnny had thought the dirt stuck to his skin would never come out. His muscle were sore and he was sporting a new wound that'd grow into a scar on his thigh. He left the locker room and into the silent halls. Everything was quiet, to the point his ears hurt, and the ringing of tinnitus was a bit too obvious. He rolled his shoulders as he limped toward his room, trying to shrug off a sense of loneliness. He had always been an extrovert, striving off of human contact. But he didn't want the buzz of a pub or the commotion of a group hang out. He needed company that felt peaceful, present but quiet, something sweet like honey and warm like a blanket. "Fuck it." The soldier huffed, making a sharp turn on his heels. He winced at how the movement pulled at his thigh muscle but kept walking in the other direction. He wasn't even sure she'd be awake, but he remembered her promising him that her door was always open for him. That might not have been literal, but he couldn't think of anything else. Johnny inhaled when he came to stop in front of the lieutenant's door, the silver doorknob felt daunting. But, he rose his hand to knock. He heard a lamp click and the shuffle of light footsteps. He rubbed the back of his neck and looked up when the door swung open. He was met with Y/N, his superior, dressed in her sleepwear and some reading glasses, face pulled into an empathetic smile. "Need a nap buddy?" She asked sweetly. Soap dropped his arm with an embarrassed nod. She didn't hesitate to move to the side and let him in, despite how it might've looked if anyone had seen the interaction without context. Y/N settled in the middle of her bed with her back against the wall. She patted her lap and opened her arms. Johnny climbed up at her side, resting his cheek on her hipbone with a pout. "Tired?" She questioned, to which he nodded once again. She frowned and lightly scratched the side of his scalp, feeling her nails lightly drag against the fuzzy stubble of his partially shaved hair. It was always concerning when Soap was quiet after a mission. "You're thinking to hard, love, what's goin' on?" Her tone made him sink further against the mattress and close his tired eyes. "Do you think 'm annoyin'?" He asked. Y/N gasped and looked down at him. "No! Who told you that? Did someone call you annoying? I won't stand for that, you give me a name and I'll make sure they never get off bathroom duty-" Her rant was cut off by Soap's tired laughter, more akin to a giggle from deep in his chest. "No no, no one said anything. Just noticed that...sometimes when I talk for awhile, the guys start huffin' and ignore me." He explained, mindlessly fiddling with the drawstring of her shorts. "Oh hun...I'm sorry, sweetheart." Y/N cooed, lovingly stroking his cheek. He shrugged and dropped his arm over her. He looked up when she prompted him too, feeling the weight of insecurity and exhaustion evaporate. "I think you're absolutely lovely, Johnny." She smiled. The Scotsman swallowed and hugged her waist tightly, curling into her. She pulled the covers up to his shoulders and continued petting his hair. "You can stay here tonight, love. You deserve a good nights rest." Johnny hummed in reply, letting his eyes fall shut as he leaned into her more. He was out almost immediately, barely registering her telling him good night. "Mhm, g'night, love ya." He yawned. Y/N paused and looked down with wide eyes. "Huh?" She questioned, only to get a little snore in reply. She blinked, then let out a breathy chuckle. "Love ya too, Johnny. Sweet dreams..." She smiled, carefully leaning to turn the lamp off.

✧John Price✧

(Platonic)

John doesn't discount people based on age, but admittedly, he appreciates having someone that's been around as long as he has.

He also appreciates having someone maternal on the team for the sake of the boys. There have been a few times where he's been called the team-dad, and he understands that point, so when the boys call you the team mom, it makes him sigh in some relief.

Firmly believes in the concept of "a woman's touch" when it comes to things like how homey a place feels or how to handle comforting people. He always considered his mother a breath of fresh air in his house growing up, and he feels you do the same thing around the base.

Definitely lays into the "mom" thing to tease you & the boys sometimes.

"Hey, listen to your mother." "Oh come off it, John."

He doesn't need any coddling, but he does appreciate little gestures of care. Makes his shoulders relax whenever you bring him a cup of coffee or a gentle squeeze of reassurance on his arm.

Even in a platonic circumstance, there are probably soldiers that joke about you two being married, honestly.

There's a silent agreement on the two of you being equals, even if he's Captain and you're Lieutenant. That's not to say he views other people as lesser than him, but when he gives you orders, he feels a bit uncomfortable saying them the same way he'd order around a normal soldier. Feels like he's scolding his own mother.

He's not immune to the "mom look". You know the one. When you say something out of line or questionable, and your mom just slowly turns with a stern face that spells "you fucked up"? Probably one of the few looks that actually get him a little nervous. God forbid you add in the hands on the hips, ooo, he shakin' in his boots.

A quiet bestie, pretty much. Where Johnny gets you out and about, John gives you peaceful company.

John hissed as the alcohol burned the back of his throat, followed by a sigh of satisfaction. There was a light chuckle beside him. "I told you it burned." Y/N teased as she set her own glass down with a clink, hers full of wine rather than whiskey. "That cinnamon adds a kick to it, for sure." John nodded as he grabbed the bottle to read it. His brows rose when he read where it was made. "Bloody hell, how'd you get Scottish whiskey out here?" His question was met with a snicker and a shrug. "Have a buddy there, I'm not much of a whiskey type but I asked for some since I figured you might like it. Had it sent to my house, snuck it in here." Y/N replied, resting her chin in her palm as John shook his head. "You're out your mind." The man smiled. "I could say the same thing about you, mister. French wine? Surely this had to be expensive, no?" Y/N said as she pointed at the bottle he'd brought her. John poured more whiskey in his glass before leaning back in his chair, crossing his left ankle onto his right knee. "Figured it was only fair, with the whole saving my team's ass and all." He rose his glass in a semi-salute. She waved her hand and sipped the red beverage once again. "I told you, you don't have to thank me for that. I care for those boys just as much as you do, of course I'd help." The woman explained. John hummed, gazing into his glass as he went over the events of a mission gone slightly wrong. "Simon would be missing an arm if not for you, if not dead." He reminded, making her frown and nod. "Can't have my favorite big boy losing a limb, who else will reach the top shelf for me?" She joked, making the captain laugh quietly. "Really though, thank you. Ain't everyday that someone sticks their neck out like that." He repeated. Y/N gave him a gentle smile and patted his arm kindly. "Don't mention it, John. Just make sure to do the same for me when I need it." She nudged him with a grin. John rose his cup and she adjusted her grip on hers, lightly clinking the rims together with a clack. "I'll keep you alive, 's long as you keep bringing me good whiskey." He teased, chuckling as she gasped and smacked his arm for the comment.

(Romantic)

Again, he really appreciates having someone else with a paternal energy on the team. He feels less like a single dad trying to keep his three sons in line.

Might get playfully jealous if they listen to you more than him.

"Soap, dishes." "Awww but Cap-" "Johnny, please be a dear and do the dishes." *sigh* "Alright, ma." "What the h-"

Probably holds off on flirting with you for awhile. He takes his job very seriously, and since you're the only woman on the team, he worries you/other people would get the wrong idea. Still, when he likes someone that way, he can't help but do little romantic things. Most of them are subtle though.

He appreciates doting gestures and ends up returning them every time. You two are in a constant loop of sweet gestures. You bring him a coffee when he's working late, he brings you breakfast. You fix a hole in his bucket cap, he gets you better boots(and pulls strings to get them faster than usual), etc etc.

Sometimes it weirds him out how relaxed he gets around you, but after awhile he starts to crave it, which leads to him seeking you out during his free time. It gets him in a little trouble sometimes because he'll start putting you with him when the team needs to split off into groups.

Instead of reprimanding or denying the married couple jokes, he barely tells people off. Sometimes he just shakes his head with a little huff, hoping his beard hides the blood in his cheeks.

Has an abandoned fantasy of being tied down with a peaceful life. He's come to accept that won't happen, but your presence makes it harder to let go of. There will be moments shared between you that feel far too domestic, and it's far too easy to be at peace around you.

He'll start properly flirting after you do it a few times. And while his words are subtle, the tension progressively gets worse and worse, to the point everyone around you two notice. Kyle fake gags when he sees it start to happen sometimes.

Doesn't call you "ma" or anything...not unless he's like, teasing you, but in general he gives you other nicknames.

It's a 50/50 on how you two get together. He might properly ask you out, but that's if the tension doesn't snap first. That's one thing that baffles him. You make him feel younger, and he does the same for you as a result.

Needs someone to tell him how to relax, and also to scold him when he pushes himself too far. You certainly don't give a shit about his rank when he's ignored something his body needs. Your scolding goes in one ear and out the other, he's too busy admiring you, sorry to say.

John bounced his leg as he watched Y/N shuffle around her room, mumbling under her breath in a frustrated tone. He glanced at his forearms, tracing over the mottled patches of irritated red caused by the heat of the sun. He twisted his neck and bit back a wince when a stinging pain came from his skin. "I cannot believe you." Y/N huffed as she came to stand in front of him, holding an unopened bottle of aloe. John glanced at her hands taking it out of the box. "I was wearin' my hat." He muttered. The look she gave him told him that was the wrong response. Her eyes were sharp and stern, the creases between her eyebrows heavy as her face scrunched. "A hat doesn't safe your skin like sunscreen does. We were in the desert, Johnathan." She huffed, tossing the box away. He winced at his full name. The captain awkwardly coughed and picked at some peeling skin on the back of his arm, hissing when she smacked his hand. "Quit that! Gosh. What did I tell you when we got there?" She asked, unscrewing the cap to take away the plastic seal. John looked at the wall. "Put on sunscreen." He could remember her tone when she'd first said it too, as well as the face she made when he denied. "And you said?" She questioned. He sighed. "I don't need any, I'll be fine." Y/N screwed the cap back on and popped it open. "And what happened, huh?" John hated being scolded like a child, but quite frankly, he'd been as stubborn as a five year old. It was fair, even if unpleasant. "I got sunburnt." "You got sunburnt!" Y/N shook her head as she took some aloe and rubbed it along her hands before taking his right arm. John let out a little noise of discomfort, feeling the gel cover the irritated skin, feeling odd when it went over his arm hair. He looked away from his arm and at her face. He swallowed as his eyes took in her features, the slight scrunch in her nose bridge and the annoyed pout on her lips. Despite her frustration, she was still helping him, keeping her touch gentle as she did his other arm. He shivered when it touched the back of his neck. Y/N's emotions began to fizzle down by the time she reached his face, avoiding getting the gel in his beard by tilted his head with her knuckle. "Still mad at me?" He asked as she dabbed along his burn cheekbones. "Less so, but yes. You have such good skin and you're gonna ruin it by not taking care of it." She clicked her tongue, putting some on the strong bridge of his nose. John gave a little huff-like laugh. "You're still helping me." He commented. "Because I care about you, that's why I'm also annoyed." Y/N stated bluntly. He melted in place as she wiped her hands off with a rag. The woman gasped when she felt strong arms hug around her legs, making her look back to him, finally looking down since he was sitting while she was standing. "You care about me?" He asked with a smile. She rested her hands on his shoulders with a little head shake. "You heard me, you just want to milk it." He nodded, making her face relax, finally smiling again. John blinked as she bent to peck his forehead. He rose his chin to meet her, but she pulled back. "Oh no you don't, sir. You can get a proper kiss when that sunburn is healed." She poked his chest. John let out an offended scoff. "I'm already burnt and I'm getting punished?!" He asked with mock outrage, making her laugh again. "Damn right! And we have another mission two days from now." John sighed. "I'll bring sunscreen." He mumbled, feeling another peck to his forehead. "You better."

✧Simon Riley✧

(Platonic)

Simon "Every Kind Of Issues" Riley is very uncomfortable that you make him feel soft. He's absolutely gonna lean far away from you for awhile. Kind words and gentle glances make him vulnerable, and that makes him feel weak, and feeling weak is how bad things happen.

For a bit, he's going to treat you respectfully, but with the bare minimum. His responses are short, his time with you is completely professional, and he keeps his dry sense of humor away. However, he's human, a guarded one, but he's not immune.

Whether he likes it or not he will grow attached to you, even as he's trying to avoid you. It happened with Johnny, it happened with Price, it happens with you. There won't be a dramatic moment where he suddenly allows you more into his space, it'll happen gradually.

He doesn't like being coddled, but he's got a weak spot for that classic motherly atmosphere.

What really brings him closer to you is your ability to just...know. He's great at a poker face even under his mask, but it doesn't work on you. You know when he's upset, you know when he's exhausted, you know when he feels out of place, you know when he's skipped a meal or when he's not drunk enough water.

Sometimes it freaks him out. He's seen your mom instincts go off in real time and he cannot understand how it works. Once, Johnny nearly lost an eye by being reckless with a tool, he was no where near you both, there was no possible way for you to know and yet...you just knew.

After awhile, there seems to be an unspoken thing between you two that he sees you as a surrogate mother in a way. Like how he views Price as a surrogate father sometimes. He finds himself randomly coming to you for little moments that mimic going to your parent for help. Usually it's things that he's embarrassed by, so he doesn't go to Price.

"Oh, hi Simon, what can I do for you, hun?" "Uhm...I wanted...I wanted something sweet, but I-" "You?- Oh, you burnt it." "There's smoke in the kitchen." "Is there a fire?" "No, but it smells like burning food." "Okay, give it here and I want you to go grab that big fan from the tank mechanic. If anyone asks? I did it."

Will whoop ass if someone disrespects you, just saying. He'll give them nightmares.

Won't use your callsign for a long time, then one day, it'll slip out. It's not even him using your call sign. You ever accidentally call your teacher mom? Like that.

(Romantic)

Honestly, not much changes. He's just a little more awkward than before. He's not a jittery or anxious man, but he's a fuckin' awkward one. He's bad with social cues and emotions.

Eventually, he'll relax around you, and this is where his actual personality comes in. Sarcastic comments, blunt jokes, and sassy little mutterings. He gets kind of smug if he makes you laugh.

Gets kind of flustered when you do nice gestures, and while he doesn't want to be coddled, sometimes it feels kind of nice. If you're the pampering type, aim for times when he's super tired, sick, or vulnerable.

When he's romantically attracted to you, it adds some extra time on the progression of him getting comfortable being vulnerable around you, because now he's a little extra worried about how you view him.

He thinks he's a bad-luck charm. He's not going to make a move on you. Simon thinks that being allowed to be close to someone is inviting bad things into their life, and if something like that happens, he'll blame himself.

Thing is, humans naturally gravitate to things that make them feel good, and he's no different. If you have the patience to slowly drag him in, it'll eventually pay off. It's just not a smooth ride by any means.

He'll show some favoritism. He thinks he's being subtle, he's not. When talking to you, he speaks with less bite in his tone, his gaze is less harsh, he's more patient. He'll also do small things without prompting to help you. Getting something heavy for you, grabbing things that are high up, taking tasks off your hands when your schedule is busy.

He's not far from your age, but there is still a bit of an age gap. It doesn't show up much until he's in a spot where he's unsure what to do. Usually, when he's met with a circumstance where he doesn't see a good option, he clenches his teeth and steamrolls through. If it hurts him or other people, that's an unfortunate side effect, but it means its over. But here you are with more experience and advice, and you have the emotional intelligence he lacks, which helps him be a bit kinder.

You make him feel like less of a bad person. Simon doesn't believe in firmly good or bad people, he thinks there are things that dictate where you lean, but he firmly believes he's on the bad side. Often forgetting that intention is a big part of it.

"You're not a monster, Simon." "I'm not a good person either." "You're human, Si. That's what you are."

He cannot ask you out, he can't bring himself to do it. When you two get together, it's unspoken between you both. Honestly, neither of you notice until years down the line, likely.

Which is hilarious, by the way. Because imagine having a boyfriend for like, four years, and suddenly realizing you have no anniversary. You basically just picked him up like a stray in the street.

His trust would likely be solidified when you catch him in a circumstance where he's at his most vulnerable, but you don't take advantage of it. But, you don't treat him differently afterward either. You're safe, you've proven to him that you're a safe space, something he denies he needs but absolutely craves.

Simon growled in frustration between his teeth, jaw clenched to prevent the shaking. His fingers felt numb, extremities tingling with pins & needs. It had been a long time since he'd had a reaction this bad to anything. Simon was a hardened soldier, he'd been through hell and back, from his childhood to the current day. He'd seen men dismembered, heard the cries of dying hostages, been the one to bring down a metaphorical guillotine on many heads. Sometimes his thoughts got too dark, sure. He'd lay restless in bed, feeling old blood that once stained under his nails and the metal of past bullets lodged in his skin. It always upset him when he couldn't control his own body, his own mind. Feeling helpless over himself. He was nearing his forties and yet he was curled under his desk, hugging himself like a child and unable to breathe. All because of a replayed memory that was a bit too vivid. He felt like a kid again. Panicked and weak, and he could still practically feel the sensation of dry, dirty scales on his lips, coupled with the taunting of his father. Simon heard the knock on his door and it made him tuck further into the corner. He wasn't as small as he used to be, he was a large, strong man now. That should've made him feel safer, but now it felt like a disadvantage, making it harder to hide. He pulled his knees as close to him as possible and flinched when the doorknob clacked and the hinges squeaked. "Simon? I don't wanna intrude, but you weren't answering me." A familiar voice made of lavender and summer breezes. Y/N stepped in and looked around, frowning when she heard a shaky hiccup come from the desk. In the dark, her eyes fell on Simon tucked under his desk, curled in a ball, making her heart break. She shut the door and walked over. "Oh honey..." She came to crouch in front of the desk. Simon felt shame, embarrassment, frustration. He wanted to smack himself for letting out a pathetic sounding whimper. Y/N hushed him soothingly with a frown. "Shh, it's okay. Can you talk to me Si? Do you know where you are?" She asked. He didn't really, stuck in between reality and the past. "I don't wanna kiss the snake, I don't wanna..." He mumbled into his knees. "There's no snake hun, it's okay. Can I see your hand, Simon? I promise it's okay, it's just me." The blond sniffled and held out one of his hands, he'd been clenching it so hard his nails poked through his palm. He felt her gently clasp her hands around his own, quietly coaxing him to calm down. He wasn't sure what she'd been saying the whole time, but it was working. His breathing slowed, even if still shaky, and he still wasn't fully present. But it was better than it was. Y/N lovingly squeezed his hand and pressed a kiss to his knuckles. "There you go, love, deep breaths. Can you tell me your name?" She asked. The man swallowed and shivered. "Simon." He slurred. "Do you know how old you are?" He hesitated this time, before he shook his head. "I'm...I'm 36." She nodded and patted his arm as praise. She continued this for a little longer until she was able to coax him out from under the desk, getting him back to his bed. It was scary seeing him like this, so out of character. Simon was always brooding and serious. This though, was clearly a glimpse of how he was as a child, all the panic he lived in, and it pained her.

Simon clung to her hand for a good thirty minutes after she'd gotten him to lay down, curled up under a military issued blanket. He was exhausted now, exhausted and awkward now. "'m sorry." He whispered, pulling his hand back. Y/N took it back and kissed his wounded palm again. "Don't you dare. You have nothing to be sorry for, Simon. I just want you to be okay." She replied. Simon swallowed and chewed on the inside of his cheek. "'s embarrassing. I'm a grown ass man." He grumbled, only for her to shake her head. She used her other hand to stroke his hair. "You're a human, Simon. And you have been through so much. This doesn't make you weak, love. I just wish you wouldn't think you had to handle it on your own." She frowned. Simon blinked at her before hiding his face in his pillow. "You can come to me, you know?" "...Noted."

Gaz: Soap and Y/N are missing, can you find them?

Simon: What, do you think I have them microchipped or something?

Price: Well, do you?

Simon:

Simon: Yeah, hang on.

reblog if you're a girl that likes girls!

includes cis girls, trans girls, nb girls, lesbians, bi girls, pan girls, anyone who is a girl and likes girls! excludes terfs!

Ugh, I hate my uterus…I swear being on your period and having endo is horrible. My body hurts and I’m so goddamn bloated.

Reblog if you think asexuality is a legitimate sexuality.

I'm trying to prove something.

Into the Fire

TF141 x f!reader

Part 6

Series Masterlist

TW: MDNI 18+, violence, injury description, blood, horror elements, character death, p in v, rough sex

AN: this is it, the last part of my mini epic and I am so happy you’ve all stuck with me with this. It’s great to see how many people enjoy my version of Gaz! And it’s been great to write for the rest of the characters as well. Now enjoy 🖤⚔️🛡️

Cold dread settles into the pit of your stomach at the guard’s words, and talk of boats appearing in the harbour as if by magic. Squires hurry in carrying weapons and armour, Price and Simon give orders and begin to direct the defensive forces. A hand grips your arm and you turn to see Laswell pulling you from your seat.

“Come on, let’s get you somewhere safe,” she says firmly, her expression grim. With a final glance at Kyle, who gives you and Laswell a brief nod, you let her escort you from the room. Already you can hear distant yelling echoing through the halls, screams of fear and pain, the clashing of steel on steel as the fight enters the castle.

“Keep with me,” Laswell says, trying to reassure you and distract you as you wind your way through the twisting halls.

You come to an abrupt halt as Laswell freezes, peering around her you see Valeria standing there, blood smeared on the short arming sword in her hand and on her clothes.

“I just killed one of the enemy,” she announces before either of you can question her. “Come, it’s safe this way,” she says, gesturing for you and Laswell to follow her.

“Where were you?” Laswell asks firmly, not moving and slowly edging you behind her. As you shift, you see her pulling a dagger from a belt sheath hidden at the small of her back. Frustration flicks quickly across Valeria’s features, darkening her eyes further as the Steward refuses to take the bait.

“Doesn’t matter, I’m here now,” she shrugs, and you notice the tightening of her grip on her sword. “Graves wants her, now give her to me.” She lunges forward, sword raised to stab into Laswell’s guts. Laswell reacts with incredible speed, hand lashing out and knocking the other woman’s wrist away as though she knew it was coming. She shoves you harshly to the side, bouncing you from the wall and sending you crashing to the ground with an undignified grunt. The two women grapple, Laswell slightly hindered by her skirts but still managing to overpower the smaller woman.

You clamber to you feet just as Valeria is struck with the pommel of Laswell’s dagger, knocking her out cold.

“Are you okay?” you ask, beginning to move towards her but something stops you dead in your tracks.

A wave of cold nausea makes you stagger, almost doubling over as it feels as though all the warmth in the air is sucked out by something. An unspeakable feeling of dread prickles your skin, and you want to curl up and hide, but something in your chest pushes back, a tiny spark of heat, that forces you to turn your head and look back down the corridor. It’s as though the torches shrink back, too afraid to burn as the dark figure steps around the corner.

“It’s Graves…” you hear Laswell whisper, the name too apt for the creature. He walks towards you, stepping over Valeria’s unconscious form and ignoring Laswell. Her eyes go wide as he ignores her, and she takes her chance to lunge with her blade at him as he moves past. A tendril of pure darkness and shadow slithers from beneath his cloak and cracks out like a whip, sending her reeling backwards into the wall with tremendous force, and she crumples to the ground. The tendrils grow in size and number, climbing the walls around him and spreading like twisted vines everywhere except where the torches burn on the walls.

“There you are darlin’, I’ve been looking for you,” he purrs, grinning to show those rows of inhumanly sharp teeth. His skin is the pallor of the undead, pulled tight over the bones beneath. You get the impression he was once handsome, but now he looks as he is, a shadow of a human. “You’ve got a little passenger in there, haven’t you?” He continues as he walks closer. “I can’t let you walk around with that.”

Simon’s words surface in your mind: run. You turn and sprint away from Graves, hearing his frustrated snarl as you do, and you try not to imagine the sight of him chasing behind you. In your terrified state you go the only way you know by heart from where you are, which is right towards the healer’s work rooms. If you’re lucky you can get there and bolt the door before he reaches you, that’s the only plan you have. Shouts and screams echo around you as you run, fighting guards and knights spilling through archways and doors.

Something screams in your head that the enemies are different, they move in a staggering walk, helmets covering their faces. One nearly knocks you over, tugging its axe from the skull of a downed guard and turns to you at the last moment. Its helmet has been lost and a rotted, eyeless face turns to you.

They’re dead already… an army of risen corpses at the command of The Shadow, Graves. You rush past the inhuman warrior, your speed redoubled in a bid to get away from that as well as the creature chasing you.

You make it to the healer’s rooms and throw open the door desperately before plunging inside. Graves is close behind you, his dead eyes meeting yours as you push the heavy door closed, but his shadows pin the door open as he approaches. Although it's futile you push against the door but there is no hope to close it.

You smash into the table, thrown back by the force of Graves ramming into the door, and you slide across the surface taking everything on the surface with you. Glassware shatters beneath you, cutting into your hands and knees as you land painfully. The brazier tumbles in a shower of sparks and burning coals, rolling across the flagstone floor, coming to rest against your skin. You blink, looking down at the still burning black lump, and then at a smash bottle of alcohol that still holds some of the volatile liquid.

“C’mon darlin’, let’s get this over with,” you hear Graves taunting you as he moves around the table.

You lift the coal in your hand, the skin hot but not burning, refusing to blister and blacken as it should. The liquid in your mouth irritates your nose, eyes watering and streaming from the burn of neat alcohol.

“What the..?” No…!” he shouts, thrusting a wall of darkness between you as you blow as hard as your lungs will let you. The spray ignites on the coal in your hand and a spray of fire blossoms from your lips, shredding the shadows and coating Graves. You keep blowing until your mouth and lungs are empty, but something shifts and lets go, leaving you in that same conflagration and ensnares the lich.

He screams and howls, twisting and writhing as the living flames devour him. A storm of fire fills the room, your clothes and hair whipping in a frenzy around you as you stand up, but only the undead creature burns. Slowly, in a daze, you step backwards, moving away from the lich as he curls in on himself, smoking and bubbling tendrils of shadow falling limp and twitching to the ground as they burn, and you edge towards the door. Wrenching your eyes from the horror you turn to the door and find Kyle, bloodied and stained, staring at you in disbelief.

“You still alive?” Kyle asks, eyebrows raised in concern. He holds out his hand, and you step through the flames on trembling legs until you grasp it, letting him pull you out of the fire yet again. He smells of coppery blood and sweat as you bury your face against his chest, ignoring the hardness of his chainmail against your skin, and focusing on the tightness of his arms around you as he pulls you tight against him.

The flames die down, leaving a congealed black mess on the floor by the hearth, but everything else is unburnt. As you glance over you swear you see something shining flutter away and up the flue.

“Come with me, let’s get you out of here,” he mutters into your hair and leads you away towards the main courtyard.

The main doors of the keep stand open, wounded and dying guards lie where they fell, and the crumpled corpses of Grave’s risen army are scattered between them. It seems Shepherd put his trust in the lich’s dead army and brought few living combatants with him, and now the Baron kneels on the ground before Price, blood leaking from a blow to his ribs. You see the other Simon and MacTavish behind him, coated in blood and gore, Farah and Alex nearby just as stained and bruised from battle.

As you near them, you hear Price and Shepherd speaking, the tip of Price’s sword pressed against the bald man’s throat.

“I am not going to beg for my life, not from you or anybody else,” the Baron wheezes, hand clutching at the gushing wound in his side, leaking through his fingers and onto the floor.

“Wouldn't do you any good,” Price replies. His eyes narrow slightly and he pushes his full weight behind the hilt of his weapon, sliding it into Shepherd’s neck with a crunching of cartilage. There’s a wet, strangled sound and you turn away until you hear the heavy thud of the man falling to the ground dead.

“It’s not over,” Price grunts. “Where’s Graves?”

“Dead, well, completely dead,” Kyle answers. “She disintegrated him.”

Farah catches your eye and nods at you, a small satisfied smile on her face.

“Then we owe you our thanks, healer,” Price says, wiping his blade on Shepherd’s cloak before sheathing it as his hip. aswell emerges from the keep looking pale and dazed, helped by Alejandro. Beside them, Rudy drags a bound Valeria, spitting curses and threats, her head still bleeding.

“I’m sorry, it was Valeria who opened the gates,” Alejandro snarls, ignoring the woman’s poisoned words. “She’s yours to do with as you see fit.”

“She goes to the cells, I’ll deal with her later,” Price sighs, shaking his head and he glares at Valeria. She struggles against Rudy’s grip, but you suspect it is for a show of defiance rather than any real intention to try and escape. If she broke free now, anyone in the immediate vicinity would gladly slice her in two.

The clean up is exhausting, so many dead, so many wounded. The rotting corpses left by Graves and Shepherd are carted away and burned, their ashes scattered into the sea to be swept away by Alejandro and his crew. The charred remains of The Shadow and likewise disposed of, the oily mark left on the floor scrubbed and scrubbed until it fades away from sight. Price has Shepherd’s remains removed by the priests and taken to be embalmed for his kin to retrieve, if they wish to do so. You work day and night, caring for those that can be saved.

Laswell makes a full recovery and her wife takes care of her.

It feels like days until you finally sit down and rest, body aching and mind about ready to unravel completely having not slept in a bed while tending to your patients. You make it back to your own chambers, feet dragging on the floor as you shuffle through the door and slump at the table. After rubbing your hands over your face you notice the bowl of apples before you, a smile creeping to your lips as you admire the shining red fruit.

“You’re not going to start throwing those again?” Kyle asks from the doorway, and you pick one up.

“I don’t think I have the energy to do it, even if I wanted to,” you smile over your shoulder at him. He shuts the door and walks over to you, gently taking your hand and pulling you up to stand with him, and carefully taking the apple from your hand and placing it on the table. You smirk as he does so.

“You’ve not had time to talk so I kept out of the way, but I wanted to say how proud I am of you. You saved a lot of people by taking on Graves like that,” he tells you, his face sombre.

“So you saved my life, and I was in your debt,” you say, tapping your chin thoughtfully. “But now I’ve saved lots of lives, so does that mean you owe me a debt now?” you grin despite your fatigue. His expression softens, and he smiles, pulling you against him by gripping the softness of your hips.

“I suppose that’s right,” he agrees. “So, I’m yours to do with you please.” His eyes linger on your lips for a moment, and arousal ignites in your tired body.

“I think, I think I’d like my knight to take me to bed,” you reply, and you see his pupils flare at your possessive choice of words.

“I am yours, but you are still mine,” he whispers, leaning down so his lips brush softly against your cheek.

“I think I can live with that,” you sigh, letting your eyes flutter closed as he presses a kiss to your neck. He does as you ask, with great care he guides you to your bed, slowly undressing the pair of you until you lie on the soft, clean sheets and he lies beside you. One rough hand glides over the swell of your stomach and cups one of your breasts, while he leans over and kisses your lips, kneading the plump mound and catching your nipple between his finger and thumb.

His kisses become more demanding, his hand roaming across your skin, caressing and squeezing whatever he can touch, and your heart pounds in response. Your tiredness ebbs away, replaced with a desperate need for closeness, to feel alive and most importantly, for him.

“Kyle, you need to fuck me,” you rasp out hoarsely, and him smirks, his cock already hard and leaving a wet trail as it rubs against your thigh.

“Do I?” he grins, voice low and deep, and you feel his chest rumble against you. “I’d better do as My Lady says.” Without preamble his shift between your thighs, spreading them wider than necessary so he can admire your glistening pussy. Watching your face and drinking in your expression, he sinks himself slowly into your aching heat, the stretch making your arch beneath him.

“Is that what you needed?” he groans, voice laced with gravel as you tighten around his length.

“Fuck, yes,” you trill back at him, clutching at his biceps as he holds himself above you. He draws back and fills you again, and again, each slap of skin against skin pulling a reedy moan from you. Your fingers curl and you nail dig at his skin, and your legs wrap around his lithe hips, urging him deeper inside.

“You want more?” he hisses into your ear, cradling your head between his forearms. You burble an incoherent agreement, and he tenses his arms against your shoulders before pounding into you mercilessly. It’s nearly impossible to breath as he pins you below him, fucking you with all his strength, and your pussy makes lewd, wet noises. You pull him harder with your legs, muscles tightening and your orgasm building much quicker than you’d anticipated. Every thrust pushes you closer to the edge as every nerve sparks with pleasure, and your mind goes blank, registering only the feeling of being completely surrounded and filled by Kyle.

The tension crests, the pleasure peaks, and you wail as you come, clenching around his cock enough to make him moan and his hips stutter. Your gasp in greedy lungfuls of air, sweating blossoming on your skin and his, and he slows the motion of his hips to a lazy rolling. Once the waves ebb, his places a gentle kiss to your lips.

“Hmmm… that’s one,” he grins, dark eyes sparkling down at you.

“What d’you mean?” you whimper, aftershocks catching at you still as he grinds into you.

“I mean,” he mumbles against your lips, “we’ve only just started.”

—————————————————————

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You have no excuse to be silent about the genocide in Palestine.

If you can’t reblog the posts about dead Palestinians, at least reblog posts about the history of Palestine.

At least reblog posts showing art made by Palestinians.

At least reblog posts that show fundraisers for Palestinians, e-sims that you can donate, and the arab.org website that helps you donate to Palestine flr free.

At least reblog posts showing Zionist companies that we need to boycott.

That is the absolute least that we can do for Palestine.

The Palestinians are begging for us to use our voice. Some of them don’t even have access to internet, so their suffering goes unnoticed.

Please. Speak up for Palestine.

Mourn the dead, fight like hell for the living.

Free Palestine.

gonna get you kneeling

Pairing; sub!Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x dom!Fem Reader

Summary; People don’t understand this dynamic between you and Ghost. They make jokes, but they truly have no idea what you get up to behind closed doors…

Warnings; 18+ minors dni!!! age in your bio or BLOCKED! anywayyy sub!simon, dom!reader, collar and leash play, breast worship, kinda oral fixation, scent kink (he just likes how u smell okay), premature cumming, mention of breastfeeding/nursing, uhhh can’t think of anything else-

(a/n); uh. right. title is from High by Stephen Sanchez. uhm. i hope u guys like this. if u do pleaaaase let me know I’m nervous about it lmao. suddenly had a feverish burst of writing motivation and whacked out the last 1k so if it’s shit or doesn’t make sense or seems rushed then uhhhhh I apologise whoops-

Word Count; 5.8k

People don’t get it, this thing between you two. They really really don’t. They talk about it on base, they make jokes and look at you in that way Simon hates so much. 

He hardly even remembers how it started, a comment you said once he thinks. Someone made a joke about it, it was just something an officer said about his girlfriend, Simon wasn’t there he just knows it was something about BDSM or some such thing. And all you did was say ‘the lined collars are apparently much more comfortable’ with a smirk, as a joke, apparently confirming to everyone on base that he likes to collar you at home. 

It’s become a running sort of joke. Sometimes you hand him paperwork and apologise for it being late and the soldiers around him share a look. A quiet ‘she gonna get punished for that LT?’ came from one of them once but he never caught which one it was.

Simon mulls this all over as he watches you talk through a file with Price, lounging back in a chair and trailing his eyes over your form, slightly bent over the desk. As if on cue, you lean further over to reach something, trousers tightening around your ass for a moment. Simon drops his eyes to it immediately, before swallowing and looking back up to see you shooting a glance over your shoulder at him with a little smile. Tease. 

He thinks about fucking you over the desk for the rest of your informal meeting with the captain. 

He can’t help it, it’s just so easy to imagine. He thinks about the way his cock always rubs up and down your slit just before the head notches in your entrance, lubricating him with your wetness and stimulating your clit for a few seconds. Simon likes doing that, he likes the noises it elicits from you, but he loves being inside you more. He’s always ready to push straight into you, curl his body over yours as he gasps through your tight, wet, heat swallowing him up. But no, he wouldn’t do that he wouldn’t push straight in, he’d wait a little bit, see what you do. 

By the time he’s imagining your walls clenching around his shaft as you milk him for all he’s worth, you’re straightening up and turning back his way. A small smile plays on your face as you wander over, his body going taut and alert at your presence. His eyes stay trained on yours as you lean over him, still sitting down, but when you get to eye level he can’t quite help it. Your blouse just dangles so alluringly below, revealing the cups of your bra concealing where he really wants to see, and his eyes drop. 

Simon only means to glance for a split second, he just means to indulge himself quickly before paying proper attention to you again, but of course his eyes get stuck there. He gazes longingly at the skin peeking out from your bra cups, the way it’s pushed slightly over the top as you lean forward. Behind the balaclava his tongue flicks out over his lips and he thinks of later, later tonight when he’ll be able to-

A small giggle cuts him off and his eyes dart back up, where you’re watching him with amusement painted all over your face. He grins guiltily, knowing you can see by the way his eyes crinkle, and waits for you to say whatever you came over to say. 

With a glance around to check no one is looking too intently, you press a chaste kiss to his forehead and whisper that I’ll text you later, ‘kay? and I’ll see you at home?

His heart speeds up at that, just thinking about what will come later. All alone, in your shared flat, just the two of you and no intrusive soldiers on base watching you both. None of the prying eyes that are so certain they know exactly what you both get up to in your private time. 

Simon practically counts down the minutes until he’s home and waiting for your text. He knows you have more work to do, and that you’ll be another couple of hours yet, but he can’t stop imagining, fantasising. He’s not often home before you are, most of the time you leave together, but his lower belly warms at what this means for the rest of your evening. Simon wanders into the bedroom and opens the wardrobe, retrieving the box at the bottom. You haven’t texted him yet but he thinks he knows which way tonight will go. There’s a few options of course, it varies as to your moods usually, but he’s hoping for one in particular. 

His phone buzzes on the bed behind him, and he drops the lid of the box back down to reach over and check it. 

💬 Knees. 

-

With his hands trembling and his heart racing, Simon waits in position. 

He’s done this a number of times, it’s become one of his favourite ways to spend the evening, but it still excites him anyway. 

There’s a couple of footsteps close to the front door and he can hear your keys jingle on the other side just before you put them in the lock. Simon clenches his hands where they rest on his thighs and loosens them slowly, trying to calm himself for what’s to come. He wants to be here, be present and relaxed. 

The door opens and his head jerks up. 

A light in the hall shines behind you, and from his position it looks like a halo around your head. It makes your body look shadowed, but his eyes accustom to the light as he gazes up at you. The look on your face is satisfied, pleased, as your eyes trail over him and he hardens a little, your silent praise always enough to excite him. 

Simon curls and uncurls his toes, trying to prevent cramp from kneeling for so long. It’s worth it though, if you’re pleased. He kept his briefs on, the tight grey ones you prefer, and the collar he took from the box. Otherwise, the leash is the only other item, clutched tightly in his hands as they rest on his thighs. He twists it gently in his hands, wondering if he made the right move by not attaching it. 

Of course, you notice the movement. 

Nervous, Si?

He smiles, tension releasing from him in a small chuckle as he drops his eyes. Simon shakes his head, swallowing as he looks back up to your grinning face. You raise your eyebrows at him, clearly wanting a verbal answer-he wouldn’t want to disappoint you of course, so you receive a quiet no-no just-jus’ wanted y’to do it-

His head dips down again, cheeks beginning to flush as he speaks to you, but then your fingers lift his chin delicately, and his eyes go wide as he stares up into yours. 

He never thought his body, his strength, his voice, would lend themselves to being submissive in any way, shape or form. But you’d promptly changed his mind about that, after the first few times you’d been together you’d asked to try something. He’d been curious, said you could pretty much do what you wanted-he hadn’t expected the next two hours to be him gripping your shirt tightly and tearing up as you tugged on his balls lightly to stave off his orgasm for the fourth time. He’d begged and pleaded with you, tried to fuck up into your hand and tried to pleasure you in the hope that he might be rewarded, he’d promised he’d be good and that he’d do whatever you wanted, and eventually he’d been allowed to cum as you cooed in his ear how much of a good boy he was for you. Simon had blacked out after that for a few minutes, having orgasmed harder than he can remember ever doing, and come back to himself to you gently wiping him down and linking your fingers with his. 

He’d worried afterward, apologised haltingly to you for begging so much and chuckling self deprecatingly about his voice and the hole he ripped in your shirt. You’d kissed him then, in the doorway to the bathroom, hands clutching his face to yours intensely, and breathlessly reassured him that having a man his size reduced to a whimpering mess and his gruff voice begging and breaking as he looked up at you was truly heavenly. Simon had gotten hard just from the way you said it all to him, and a repeat of the event had shortly followed. 

A few months later you’d presented a little box to him. You’d squeezed his hand and kissed him softly, opened the box and presented him with a navy blue, fur lined collar. 

He’d almost stopped breathing at the sight, fingers tracing over the fluff inside and heart rate picking up as you quietly explained he didn’t have to, not at all, you just thought maybe it might be a nice sign of, well, something more. Something concrete, a symbol for you both. 

You’d tried it out that night, let him fuck you as you tugged on it where it was fastened tightly around his neck. He’d cum embarrassingly quickly, whimpering and drooling slightly into your neck as his mind went fuzzy. 

And now, your thumb brushes over his bottom lip as you murmur your question, as you tell him to use your words, si, what do you want me to do? If you don’t tell me what you want you won’t get it will you?

Simon stares up at you as your words wash over him, leaning slightly into you and subconsciously pushing the tip of your thumb into his mouth. He knows there’s an order in there somewhere, something he needs to do or reply to, but the idea of having you occupy his mouth somehow has been on his mind for the past few hours and he can’t resist the temptation.

He whines when you pull your hand back, chasing it a little before you tut at him and he recedes. 

Tsk, I asked you a question, si, didn’t I? Or have you forgotten every thought in that pretty little head already? I’ve barely done anything-

He flushes again at your words. Twisting his hands around the leash again, he tentatively holds it up to you. 

I jus’-uh, jus’ wanted you to-to put it on-

Simon presses his lips together, dropping his gaze and wondering if this was the right move after all. Maybe he should have just done it, maybe you’d have preferred it if he already had it attached, maybe you think he’s being lazy or disobedient or-

You pluck the leash neatly out of his hands, pulling it through your grip and trailing your eyes over it. It’s simple black leather, good quality and with lining around the loop for your hand. Simon clenches his jaw, watching you handle it deftly and admire it, salivating at the sight of you holding his leash. It’s not even attached to his collar yet and he can’t get enough.

One of your hands goes back to his jaw and he leans into it again, big eyes trained on you as you stroke his jaw affectionately. In a fluid movement, you slip the hand down his neck, over the column of his throat-squeezing gently for a split second just to hear his breath hitch and watch his cock jerk in his briefs-and down to hook a finger into his collar. Simon sucks in a breath at that, shuffling forward a few inches on his knees and baring his neck for you to attach the leash. 

You chuckle quietly at his eagerness, and he keens. He never thought it would be something for him, but the times when you laugh and giggle at how needy he gets or how hard he is just from making out? His mind goes a little fuzzy and empty at it. Together you’ve discovered that he likes praise the most, being obedient and being called a good boy as he gets rewarded, but every so often he has nights where he gets a little bit bratty. He disobeys your orders in small ways, just enough to tick you off, and eagerly awaits his punishment. His favourite part of it is when you’re doling out the punishment, spanking him or edging and denying him etc etc, and you mock him for how needy he is. Something about the way you laugh and tease him for the wet patch growing on his briefs reaaally does a number on him.

Simon doesn’t think he’s quite up for that today, the desire to be your good boy and be rewarded is stronger he thinks, but whatever you decide will be best, naturally. 

You lean down over him to find the link in the collar, and his eyes fall down yet again. You’re still wearing the same blouse from earlier, and he’s been thinking about the way your breasts almost spill out of your bra since that morning. A small metal click makes him blink and look at you, now realising that you’ve attached the leash. A rush of breath escapes him, pupils dilating and cock twitching as his mind goes quiet. He’s not quite sure what it is, but something about finally having the collar and leash attached and in your grip always puts a sort of blanket over his mind, he becomes one track, just wired to please and obey you and he can’t get enough of it. 

What do you want, baby? Tell me and i might reward you with it tonight-

Simon blinks up at you, doe eyed, already dizzy with the thought of a reward. He hasn’t done anything yet and you’re being so nice to him, letting him know there’s the opportunity to earn a reward at all. 

He blinks and tries to muddle through his thoughts a bit, sifting through the jumbled mess to figure out what he wants to ask for, what you might grant him. His gaze drops again, flicking between your questioning gaze and the swell of your chest. Swallowing, his tongue flicks out over his lips and he tries to find the words. 

He doesn’t find the words. 

He stares at your chest again for a few seconds, presses his lips together before glancing up, and immediately looking back down again. He can’t help it, he can see the way your chest moves as you breathe, the teasing cups of your bra covering what he wants most, the pretty swell and the shade of your skin he loves so much. 

uhm-I-can you-can I-uh-

That laugh again. That soft little chuckle as he stutters over his words, so fixated on your breasts he can’t even properly say what he wants. All of a sudden you’re straightening up and he’s opening his mouth to protest-no, to beg, to beg you to come back and let him see-just-just a little-

A stern look stops him and he swallows, shifting his tired legs again as he watches your movements avidly, not wanting to miss a second. Slowly, your fingers undo the buttons of your blouse, one by one starting from the bottom, until the blouse hangs open to reveal your bra. 

It’s really nothing special, just a plain black t-shirt bra that came in a multipack from a few months ago-but to Simon it’s heavenly, and he can’t stop looking. Subconsciously he begins to shuffle forward, eyes fixed on your chest and hands beginning to reach up. It’s been too fucking long he can’t do it anymore, it’s been forever he thinks, but really any time he doesn’t have his mouth on your chest is wasted time in his opinion. 

It’s another thing he never hugely thought about, people would talk about being a tits or ass man and he’d shrug, figure they were both pretty nice he doesn’t see why he would pick. And then you guys started exploring, you started tiptoeing into submissive territory, and now Simon is never happier than when you’re riding him or jerking him off and let him put his mouth on your breasts. He’s borderline obsessed with it, he fantasises at work and daydreams at home of sitting down next to you, of you lifting your shirt enough for him to start licking and sucking as you play with his hair. 

He did that a few weeks ago. Had a long day at work and came home with only one thing on his mind, found you leaning back on the arm of the sofa and settled himself down next to you, big body squashed onto the piece of furniture as he gently pushed your shirt up over your chest. You hadn’t been wearing a bra and he’d almost started drooling, wasting no time in attaching his mouth to you, gently lapping at your skin with his tongue and suckling at your nipple as his eyes fluttered closed. 

He knows you’d been a little surprised, he does it a lot when you’re having sex or when you’re teasing him, but having him just come home and use you almost like a pacifier? That was new. It hadn’t been long before one of his legs hooked over yours though, pressing the bulge in his cargo pants up against you. You hadn’t even done anything, didn’t even move, just let him whimper and whine around your nipple as he sucked gently and rutted against your leg. Only a few minutes later his other hand had come up to squeeze and grope your neglected breast, moaning into your skin and kneading your flesh as his hips stuttered and pressed firmly against you, trembling a little before pulling back and exposing the wet patch seeping through his clothes to you. 

To your surprise, he still hadn’t stopped. 

Simon had kept at it, slowed his movements a little as his other hand loosened to a gentle hold on your breast. He’d simply laid there with his eyes blinking drowsily up at you and sucked softly at your nipple. Eventually your hand had come up to run your fingers through his hair, and he’d closed his eyes fully again, dozing off lightly a few minutes later but still suckling somewhat at you. 

A small tutting noise reaches him and brings his mind back, just in time for you to take a step back out of reach. The hands he was raising to touch your chest fall back to his thighs and he looks down despondently, realising he was about to try and touch you without permission. 

Silently chastising himself, Simon peers up at you imploringly, hoping you might forgive the slight. He’s been punished for less when you haven’t been in a very forgiving mood, but he hopes tonight will be different. He wants more affection tonight, wants the praise and adoration you bless him with on some evenings like this. It’s up to you of course, but he can hope. 

He watches you tilt your head and look at him calculatingly, chewing the inside of your lip as you evidently debate what to do with him this evening. 

If you stay like this while I go and shower, you might get what you want. Might, if you’re a good boy-think you can do that for me?

His body tenses, hands balling into fists as his eyes dart between you and the bathroom door. 

No-no I-

Your eyebrows raise and his cock thickens in his briefs, aching from the way you look down so condescendingly. 

You can’t be a good boy? You can’t or won’t?

Simon gapes at you, hand unfurling and fingers twitching against his thighs as he fights to not touch you, grab at your thighs, pull your leg between his so he can hump it, anything. He fumbles over his words again, unsure how to say what he means. He’s sort of broached the subject before, but not like this. Not when you’re staring down at him like you can see every part of him laid bare, like he’s offering up all his thoughts on a silver platter but you’re making him say it anyway for the fun of it. 

No-yes I-I mean I can-I will be-m’just-don’t wan’ y’to leave-wan’-want y’to stay-stay here-

He avoids your eyes. 

That’s enough, surely, maybe you’re feeling generous and will let him off with that, with his desperation peeking through his words as he implores you to stay. 

Why?

Simon squeezes his eyes shut, hands balling up once again and becoming sweaty as he tries to calm his racing heart. One word from you and he’s fumbling again, glancing at the knowing look on your face and feeling his cock twitch at being made to spell it out properly. 

I-I don’t want y’to shower-

He swallows thickly and clamps his mouth shut. Enough enough enough, no matter how much you experiment or learn together or research, he still gets skittish when something new is exposed. He gets twitchy and grumpy, and he realises how you’ve decided to deal with it. The times he cums the quickest are the ones where he’s forced to tell you what he wants, where he has to use his gruff voice that he was so convinced could never be submissive to ask you for what he wants. And now you’re doing the same to extract this new information, to needle out a kink waiting to be explored. He breathes out shakily as he realises he never would have said anything if not for this, and you wouldn’t be asking if you weren’t on board. 

I’ll ask again, Simon. Why?

His big eyes peer up at you, seeking any sign of displeasure on your face. You don’t like having to ask more than once, he knows. Shifting his thighs to give some weak sort of friction to his aching shaft, his mouth waters as he imagines, as he fantasises about why. 

You-I don’t want-want y’to-I-

His breath comes quicker, tongue tangling with the words as he tries to relax. 

The warmth of your hand cupping his chin startles him for a second, but he leans into the thumb stroking his jawline eagerly. 

It’s okay, you can take your time. I’ll get it out of you eventually-

Simon has no doubt you will, but he doesn’t want to displease you. He can say it, he will say it. 

Speaking slowly and blinking at an invisible point on your leg, he tries again.

I-I don’t want y’to shower be-ah-because I-you-your scent-you smell…good-

He looks up at you like a kicked puppy, itching to hold you and waiting with baited breath for your response. 

Your lips curve into an innocent smile, entirely fake. 

But…I’m all sweaty from working all day, Si…

He whimpers before he catches himself, head ducking down slightly against your hand. Your grip turns tighter, grasping his jaw and pulling him back up to keep eye contact. 

I know-I-I like it-

A smug grin stretches across your features as you let him go, finally satisfied that he’s telling the truth. 

Delivering a soft kiss to his forehead, you whisper my good boy at him and he melts, eyelids fluttering closed as he preens at your affection. 

He thinks it probably will be that type of night, you seem like you’re going to be generous and praising with him-his cock jerks again at the thought and at the remembrance of the reward he might be granted. Eventually his eyes get stuck on your chest, subconsciously shuffling forward another few inches and waiting with baited breath as you shrug your blouse off and reach behind you to unhook your bra.

Simon’s mouth hangs open as you drop the garment to the ground and slowly lift your hands, cupping your tits and rolling your nipples between your fingers and thumbs. He should be the one doing that, he should be touching you and worshipping your breasts like he so desperately needs to, rather than just listening to your soft sighs of pleasure as he sits motionless. 

He opens his mouth, has to close it again to swallow because his throat is so dry from need, and he simply utters please-

He’s rewarded with a small giggle from you, and your hand winding the leash around your wrist to tighten it, tugging him forcefully up on his knees rather than sitting on his heels. 

Stand

You say it simply, patiently, yet he practically scrambles to his feet. It’s a clumsy movement, nothing like his actions on the battlefield or around the other soldiers. Ony clumsy for you, in your presence, because of what you do to him. Because of the anticipation of what you might do to him. 

Simon keeps his eyes trained on yours, intent on being your good boy tonight, intent on earning his reward and being obedient, with being perfect for you and being praised as such. Pulling the leash behind you, you amble toward the sofa, turning as you reach it to tighten the leather around your hand again and manoeuvre him onto the cushions. 

He sinks onto the sofa with a grunt, the furniture creaking quietly in protest of his large stature. His thighs automatically widen a little and he sucks in a breath as the material of his briefs chafes against his sensitive tip. His shaft has been throbbing for ages, for too long, and his head swims as he imagines you taking pity on him soon and indulging him.

One step forward and you’re situated between his legs, chest hovering enticingly in front of his face. His mouth waters, and he licks his lips. Your nipples harden fully in front of him, and he sucks in another breath as he tries to reign himself in. It fills his nose with the tantalising scent of you, the scent he’s so addicted to, that he couldn’t bear to let you wash away with perfumed products and lotions.

One finger finds its way under his chin, digging your nail in slightly as you drag his face to turn up to you, tearing his gaze away from your bare breasts-even as he tries to flick back down to see again and again. 

Maybe I’m being a little cruel-you have been very very good for me, and I know exactly what you want as a reward. You can use your mouth-but if you misbehave and make me regret this you know you’ll be punished don’t you? Simon gulps and nods at you, inching his face forward to try and finally, finally fucking finally get his mouth on your breasts, to be able to suck your nipples into his mouth like he’s been fantasising of for hours, days. 

Just before his mouth reaches you a sharp tug on the leash pulls him back a few inches, leaving him panting and grunting as he tries to pull forward and poke his tongue out, attempting to lick at you even though he’s too far away. 

Please-ah-please I will-I’ll be so-s’good-I’ll be a good boy I-please-lemme just-

His hands scrabble at the fabric of the couch cushions, gripping them tightly as you look down sternly at him.

I know you will, you always are for me-he preens at that, cheeks dusting pink as his throat bobs with a nervous swallow-but be careful. I’m still kind of sore from the last time I let you do this, so be gentle or-

Or I’ll be punished-I won’t I’ll-I’ll make sure m’gentle-make it feel good f’you-please-now please can I-

He knows he shouldn’t have done that, he shouldn’t have interrupted you. By all rights you should be stepping back and yanking his leash, gripping his jaw and hissing that you warned him what would happen if he misbehaved. But it seems he’s been good enough so far to let it pass, and you only eye him for a few more seconds before nodding, acquiescing to his needy desires. 

Without wasting another second Simon lurches forward, latching his mouth around one of your nipples and sucking hard. The movement pulls the leash from your hand and he vaguely hears you gasp as your palm instead comes to cradle the back of his head to you, apparently surprised by his eagerness. 

Simon feels you sway on your feet from him pressing against you and takes a risk, hooking his arms around your waist to crush you further into him as he sucks greedily. 

Oh-okay okay easy-I said-oh-I said gentle remember? Si-Si I said gently-or I’ll have to stop y-

He doesn’t even let you finish, the thought of being stopped abhorrent to him, he just whimpers as he loosens his grip around you, lessening the pressure of his mouth and laving over your pert nipple with light strokes of his tongue for a minute. 

Soft brown eyes stare up at you, wide and round and seeking your approval at his change, his restraint. Barely contained, but restraint nonetheless. He spends another few minutes licking and sucking gently at your nipple, running his tongue over it and moaning to himself as he sucks your soft flesh into his mouth. Breathing hard, Simon shifts and presses his face harder into you, moving to pepper kisses over the swell of your breasts and your collarbone. 

When he reaches the crook of your neck he falters for a second, inhaling deeply as his fingers spasm on your waist and his hips buck up a little into nothing. He hears a small huff of amusement come from you but he can’t bring himself to focus too much on it, not when he’s been given such a reward-he certainly does not intend to waste the opportunity and shifts both hands to cup your breasts, groping and squeezing them. 

Feverishly, his head ducks back down again, nose pushing along the crease under your breasts and inhaling again. A shudder racks through his body and he can hardly believe his luck when you shift forward, gently settling a knee either side of his lap and taking care to hold the leash tightly still while you straddle him. Again, he doesn’t stop. He can’t stop, his mind feels foggy and blurred as he keeps kneading at your chest, leaning his forehead on your sternum and all but pressing your breasts against his cheeks, smothering himself. 

His breaths come hard and fast, inhales that seem far deeper than his exhales, as if he’s trying to cram as much of your scent into himself as he possibly can. With his hips bucking still, jerking up into nothing as you still hover just too far over him, he switches his attentions back, running his tongue sloppily along the underside of one of your breasts. The tip of the muscle tickles a little, dancing deeper and smearing spit over your skin as he pants and grunts against you. 

The coiling in his gut suddenly becomes noticeable as he draws your nipple into his mouth once more, suckling it and letting his eyes fall closed, and he startles at it, not wanting his reward to be over so soon. He can wait, he can hold out, he’ll be better-

You’re drooling on me sweetheart-

Simon's eyes fly open, shooting up to meet your gaze. He blinks slowly, and his eyes become heavy lidded as he keeps sucking, falling into the pacified state he did last time. Through his dazed thoughts and desperation he manages to listen to you, pulling away with a trail of spit connecting you to his lips to look down briefly. 

There’s drips on his thigh, globs of spit on your lower belly from his copious attentions, and he looks blearily at the spots for a few seconds before deciding he needs more, and he presses himself to your chest again. 

There’s a steady leak of precum dripping from his cockhead by this point, beading through the tight fabric of his briefs, and Simon whimpers when your thigh brushes against him, realising how sensitive he is. Cradling your breast in one hand, he squeezes gently as he sucks, repeated draws of the tight suction in his mouth that make you gasp before you giggle again, fingers combing through his hair. 

Christ Si, at this rate I’ll end up nursing if you’re not careful-

A contented sigh escapes you at the end of your sentence, and you settle down a little further into his lap as you do so. All too soon Simon recognises what’s happening, hears your words slip through the fog of his mind and sucks harder, squeezing his eyes shut, as his cock flexes in his briefs. He’s never thought of nursing before, doesn’t even want kids. He’s never thought of any of that, but the fantasy of doing this, being able to consume, being able to take and taste and relieve the ache you would feel-

No no not yet not yet not yet-

The fingers stop moving in his hair but he can only focus on the blinding pleasure that blurs his vision. More spit escapes him and smears over your skin as the wet patch saturates his briefs, his hips fighting to stay still and his arm still clutching you close while his other hand continues to knead the breast he can’t stop suckling. It thrums through his body, blinding him and dullinh his hearing for a few seconds as pulse after pulse of sticky cum throbs from his shaft, flared tip dragging along the material of his briefs and pushing a couple more dribbles of the pearly fluid from him. His balls pulse with every jerk of his cock, tightening and lifting toward his shaft before they finally feel empty and his thigh is warm with his sticky release.

His legs stop trembling eventually, leaving him weak and bone tired but still unwilling to take his mouth off of you. He only separates for a split second at a time, trying to stutter out his apologies. 

I-m’sorry I-s’too-couldn’t help it-I couldn’t-

Your fingers start moving again gently, nails scraping softly over his scalp and he melts into you. With a satisfied sigh he lets up a little bit, simply laves his tongue in broad strokes over your chest and breathes in the sweat soaked after-sex scent of sorts that clings to you. It fills him wonderfully once more and he smiles into your chest, face glued to your sternum and framed by your soft tits, the way he fantasises about every other minute of the day. 

A contemplative sound comes from just above his head and he pauses his ministrations, remembering with worrying clarity that his reward was to put his mouth on you, not to cum. He didn’t even ask, didn’t even try to get permission.

Simon looks up tentatively, and is met with a smile crossing your features. He knows that smile far too well. 

Well, I suppose tonight can be about stamina training then can’t it?

comments and reblogs huuuuugely appreciated bcus likes don't share my work 😔😔😔 really hope you enjoyed and thank u for reading if u made it this far! <333

I swear these flare ups are gonna be the death of me.

────141 headcanons: touching the belly────

a/n: y'all know i'm a sucker for the the pregs trope so i had to do this request. and i only did the four dinguses for this one, sorry anon ☺️

warning(s): pregnancy, fluff+angst, invasion of reader's personal space/privacy, protectiveness, hurt/comfort?, afab!reader

‧˚₊ MAIN MASTERLIST ⟢ 141 MASTERLIST ‧₊˚⊹

๋࣭ ⭑ PRICE

⌞one of the perks of being married to john is being supported. quite literally the definition of it, in every form. that goes for your baby too, no questions asked. he's more akin to simon in being traditional while you're expecting. wants you home, resting and not lifting a finger.

he's very particular about who he lets close to you, more than ever now. it makes sense considering his work and the general fragility of a new family. in the same way as kyle, he's constantly stressed. wants everything to be perfect for you and soon to be little one.

always has his eye on you, just like he does all his men. there's nothing he doesn't see or already knows about. honestly, may even spot a bad apple before you do. won't even bother with politeness and will shoo them away before their hand(s) even make contact with your tummy.⌝

๋࣭ ⭑ SIMON

⌞ he was already protective enough before you got pregnant, but he's at a whole new level now. practically a full-time security guard by the time you reach your third trimester. ESPECIALLY when you two find yourselves out and about — which isn't often.

on the off chance that you're at some sort of gathering with simon, he's at your side no matter what. eyeing every person who approaches you, only chiming in when spoken to, out of mere courtesy. as soon as you give him any inkling of discomfort, he's asking you if he should go start the car.

one thing he hasn't gotten used to yet is the touching. how people often belaud pregnant women. cross boundaries constantly to get a feel of them and their bellies. it's already hard enough getting the man to relax, but it's hopeless now with all the new people he "needs" to keep an eye on. it's not a matter of him catching someone touching your belly; he'll already be standing there most likely. glares, huffs, will certainly go as far as removing their hand if it lingers long enough.⌝

๋࣭ ⭑ SOAP

⌞doesn't see any point in excluding you from functions if you think you can handle them. loves having you on his lap or right beside him when he's out, even in pregnancy. as long as you're comfortable and able to signal to him when you're too tired or need something — he's just happy you're there.

most of all, johnny is fiercely protective of the bump. more than he is of you (which is nearly unfathomable, i know). and if there's one thing he loves more than you — it's gushing about you to anyone who'll listen. so, initially, he might not notice someone making you tense while amid his blabbing.

but after so long with him, you've learned to accept the flattery for what it is and remember how easy it is for him to get distracted. a firm squeeze to his hand or a tug to his jacket will do the trick. but once realizes what's happening, he's on it (with his new Dad Speed). finds a way to distract the person and slip you the car keys. promises he'll be out in two minutes to drive you home — and he always is.⌝

๋࣭ ⭑ GAZ

⌞ even though he'd prefer you bundled up in bed and waiting for him, kyle still enjoys doing things with you. he definitely gives a wider berth than the other guys, but he's just as vigilant (if not more). he's more subtle about it, if anything.

it isn't just you to protect anymore, it's you and his baby. so, forgive the man for his pinched brows and clenched fists, he's reverted into nothing but a ball of anxiety the further the months progress.

doesn't mind people having a feel of you, usually, when they only mean well (it's typically older ladies anyhow). but sometimes it's a more unsavory interaction; someone who isn't taking any hints, who can't bear to leave the two of you alone. on one hand, gaz understands — an expectant, attractive couple out on a wholesome shopping trip is bound to lure attention. he takes a slower approach, less hostile to avoid upsetting you anyone. brushes it off with an excuse; "oh, love, you got that appointment today, right? don't wanna be late." and then makes his exit, a guiding hand around your waist.⌝

🎀💞

I just know that Simon Riley wants his face sat on🤭

nsfw below the cut 🪷 mdni

You'd always been a little shy when it came to sex, understandably so considering that your boyfriend was a real life Adonis, some kind of cruelly beautiful deity come to taunt you for your prudishness. Obviously, you and Simon had done it, you'd fucked countless times when he came back from deployments or frustrated from debriefings gone bad, but it was always, for lack of a better word, tame. You'd always assumed, given his past, that he wouldn't be down to have sex, period. The beginning of your relationship was a minefield of navigating boundaries and understanding the complexity of the beautiful man you got to share your bed with. What you foolishly failed to recognise, however, is that whist you subconsciously saw Simon as wounded, he saw your fragility as clear as day, like a ripple under the surface of clear water.

He'd aways been so impossibly gentle with you, even when you'd wanted things differently, too afraid to ask him and send Simon spiralling back into that dark place he'd only recently been pulled from.

"Want you to fuck my face." Simon's deadpan voice snaps you from your reverie, brings you back to where you lay sprawled and waiting in the centre of your shared bed.

"I'm sorry?" You barely manage to splutter, propping yourself up on your elbows to look at where he sits patiently between your knees, not even needing to look down to your panties to know that your cunt is already dripping.

"Fuck, love." The sound of his exasperated sigh makes you feel like you've done something wrong, but the almost pained crinkle of his eyes confuses you. "You need me to spell it out? I'd like you to sit on my face and let me eat you out." Simon's words make you choke, jaw hanging agape as you process the fact that not only is he willing to take such a step in your sexual relationship, but also that he's so seemingly comfortable with the idea of you essentially fucking his face. Sure, he's eaten you out before, but never in such a compromising way. "Are you -" A soft kiss being placed to the sensitive skin of your inner thigh is enough to silence you as you look down at Simon practically grovelling between your legs.

"If you don't want to, you can say no, baby." "It's not that I don't want to. I just don't want to - fuck." You huff, slumping back against the mattress with a sigh as you struggle to find the words you need to express the way you feel. "You don't want to fuck?" He smirks wickedly at you, one hand still cradling your outer thigh as he presses his cheek to the warm skin, trying to lighten the mood. Ease you up a bit. "Simon." "Tell me what you're thinking. I'll make it make sense." God he's always so unbearably patient. It almost has you in tears.

"I just - I'm not so confident with stuff like that, you know? I mean it took us six months of having sex for me to even feel comfortable enough to ride you. Now you want me to sit on your face?"

Simon's eyes soften at your reasoning, and he practically drags himself up the bed until he's face to face with you, propping himself up on his elbows to stare down at your face, so beautifully flushed and bashful.

"If you don't want to do it, that's fine, but I need you to know, that I look at you and get hard okay? You're the most beautiful thing I've seen. Ever. If I died by being suffocated between your legs? Fuckin' kill me already, yeah?"

His words have you giggling softly as you play with his hair, distracting yourself from the burning arousal in the pit of your tummy.

"Okay." You nod, slowly, meeting his eye to make sure that he sees you're serious. "You don't have to say yes if you're not sure." "I'm sure, but can we go slow?" "Of course, baby. We can do whatever you feel comfortable with."

It doesn't take long for you to be sat nervously on Simon's hips, clothes piled on the floor, discarded in order for you to sit naked atop him, bottom lip pulled nervously between your teeth. "Do I just -" You point awkwardly between the general vicinity of your cunt to Simon's face, heart fluttering when you catch the way he gazes up at you like some sort of statue, some masterpiece. "Mhm." He nods slowly, pupils blown impossibly wide, the chocolate of his gaze turning almost entirely black. You feel his massive palms take your hips, guiding you up to your knees before settling your slick cunt just over his face.

"Sit." He grunts when he doesn't immediately feel the press of you against his mouth, his nose barely touching your puffy clit. "What if I hurt you?" "I'll let you know. Now, sit." Before you know it, his fingers are digging into your hips, leaving you gasping at the suddenly overwhelming sensation of his entire lower face stuffed against your pussy.

"Holy sh-" You whine, already beginning to roll your hips in search of stimulation, all whilst Simon gives a contented hum which rumbles through you and has you clenching around nothing. His hands guide your hips in their rhythm as his tongue licks a flat stripe between your wet folds, leaving you stuttering and your eyes rolling back, all whilst you grip onto his hair like of you let go he'll disappear entirely.

He sets a languorous pace with his tongue, eating at you like you're his final meal, hands digging firmly at the meat of your ass whilst he uses the slight bump at the bridge of his nose to press up against your clit, making you dizzy. Whilst he uses both hands to guide you, you use the hand not tangled into his hair to roll a hardened nipple between your thumb and forefinger, the sensation going straight to your pussy and making you gasp. Simon, perceptive as ever, notices your want and pushes his tongue inside you to push just that little bit further - and he can tell that you're close by the way your thighs clench around his ears and the fact that you're wonderfully more vocal than usual.

Similarly, sensing your oncoming orgasm, you desperately attempt to pull yourself off of him, all of a sudden shy about cumming on his face like you haven't done it countless times before. Your wriggling is met with a small slap to your ass which has you seeing stars as the small sting snaps the elastic band stretching taut in your lower belly, and Simon laps up every bit that you'll give him.

"Didn't think that men like me got to go to heaven." Simon sighs when you both lay sprawled and happy in bed together.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

I did not intend to write 1.1k of smut when I opened my laptop this evening but boundaries and communication are just so !! sexy !!

N e ways I'll just leave this here for y'all💕

His Favourite

Warnings: 18+, Smut, Unprotected Sex, Oral Sex, Power Imbalance, Abuse of Authority, Gaslighting, Name-Calling, No Pronouns used for Reader except 'You'.

You’re Ghost’s favourite recruit, though you’d never know it from the way he constantly berates you, his harsh accent splitting you apart from the rest of your peers as he picks you up on the most minor of mistakes. 

Don’t get it twisted, he’d do the same to any other recruit, he just seems to enjoy knocking some discipline into you. As he’s doing right now in the privacy of a vacant store cupboard, pants pulled down to his thighs with you sat between them, taking his twitching, aching cock between your waiting lips.

“Just a pretty little people pleaser, aren’t’ya,” he says, one hand on the back of your head while the other grips your shoulder, keeping you from going anywhere. “Do anythin’ for your Lieutenant,”

It’s not a question. Your position now just proves that everything he's saying is nothing short of the truth. You’ve learnt how he likes it, how he gasps ever so slightly whenever you press the tip of your tongue into that one sensitive patch beside his most prominent vein, just two inches from his engorged ballsack.

His breath is short as you bob up and down his shaft, forced to take more of him as he pushes your head further down onto him and himself deeper into you. You hum, either in defence or enthusiastic agreement – it doesn’t matter to Ghost. Especially when you’re being so obedient, taking him inch by inch, his tip hitting the back of your throat, the tightness in his balls growing.

Despite how often he takes to disciplining you, it never seems enough. Within a day, he’s ready to shoot as much cum down your throat as you can take, and then some. That, or he’s herding you into a dark corner of the Base and pounding you senseless, calling you his fuck bunny, his personal cum rag, his favourite.

"Bet you wanted to join the military just to have men shout at you," he tells you, hands tight about your waist as he pushes himself all the way in, pulls halfway out, and repeats. He hardly breaks a sweat, years of abuse and hardship having shaped him into the image of Zeus; insatiable and unfettered.

"Bet y'enjoy makin' me angry, knowin- fuck-" – he feels himself twitch; he's close –knowin' that m'gonna fuck y'into shape."

He tells you how much you need this, need someone to teach you the difference between right and wrong, to teach you how to be worthy, to please him. He knows nothing will happen if he gets caught. Nothing substantial, at least. But you don’t know that, hence he lets you feel as if he’s entrusting you with a secret whenever he leads you into a dark room, your task already outlined just as his dick is in his pants. And you can only shut up and take it, trying your absolute hardest not to come undone in Ghost’s calloused hands, trying to show your superior that you’re able to take him – all of him – without unravelling at the seams.

He always proves you wrong but that’s wherein the fun lies; getting to watch you squirm as he fills you from the inside only to make you run laps with the rest of your fellow recruits knowing that the limp in your gait is his doing, that you’re trying your best to keep up with the others whilst also trying to keep Ghost’s seed from leaking out of you.

Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously and it is greatly appreciated :-)

Masterlist Masterlist [Continued] Masterpost Modern Warfare AI Masterlist

AO3 Wattpad Tumblr Backup Account

Piercings

I'm so tempted to get nipple piercings and poppin' them out to spook my friends. He'd be hotter than two rats fuckin in a wool sock.

I feel the mania setting in today.🙃🙃🙃

This is money cat. He only appears every 1,383,986,917,198,001 posts. If you repost this in 30 seconds he will bring u good wealth and fortune.

Sub ghost drinking readers milk and grinding against her leg whilst calling her mommy? Love your work!

you know what just for you anon. i’ll pause my game of evade. (i don’t do requests much anymore but.. i’ll take suggestions like @sant-riley riley and @frogchiro, top recommendation tbh) sorry for the tag, will remove if u wish :}

REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED!!!!

warnings: AFAB!reader, implied pregnant!reader with the lactation itself, Lacatation, sub!Ghost, Mommy Kink,

warm lips latched around your nipple, tongue lapping before suckling. You let out a strangled moan, hand cradling Simons head, tufts of brown hair caught between your fingers.

You didn’t think that the sight of your milk stained chest, black tank top darkened over your nipples, would make Simon go into a frenzy but it did.

You could say you didn’t expect it, but you’re smarter than that. With the way he was on your nipples nearly every night, dumping his load on your thigh or inside of your warm cunt, it unlocked a new, even softer, side of him.

“Baby-Baby- slow down—“ you try to calm the man and his feverish suckling, but to no avail. One hand cupping your left breast while his other hoisted your thigh onto his hip; forcing your other to slot between his strong thighs.

“Hun- Si- it’s not gonna go anywhere. oh!!” a noise of surprise leaves your throat when he nibbles, it makes your eyes roll back with a flutter. His mouth falls open as he rests his forehead against your collarbone, heavy breaths fan against your tit.

He’s almost shy with the way he gently ruts against your thigh, as if he wasn’t allowed to and he was sneaking this in. You scratch his scalp gently, encouraging his actions as you push your thigh against his crotch with force.

A shake in his knees followed with a deep groan before he latched back on and started to suck harder, milk spilling on his tongue, filling his mouth before he takes a large swallow. Nostrils flaring as he breathes in air again.

“That’s it baby, take what you need, mommy will give it to you” His hand on your thigh tightens as he grinds more slowly but deeply on your thigh, peeking between your bodies you spot a large wet spot on his gray sweatpants, right where the head of his cock sits.

“Need- need your pussy- mommy.” His voice is rough but dripping with need. You decide to be a little cruel, simple pay back to how sensitive he’s made your nipples with all the abuse.

“No. Cum on my thigh first.” He whines but complies. His rutting becomes faster, milk spills from between his lips and drips down his chin.

“That’s my good boy, so sweet to me. So sweet for mommy” You can’t lie and say your panties aren’t soaked, cause they are. Whatever spell Simon put on you when he first nursed from you, is still effective weeks later.

The air is hot and stuffy, your head spins as pleasure rocks through your body, like a ship at sea, taking the brute waves head on.

Simon grunts out a curse, before he practically humps your leg like a dog in heat, you look down, wanting to see him cum. He stills and suddenly the dark patch on his sweats gets bigger, quickly running down his length in dark gray tears, his cock twitches freely against the thin material. With each burst of cum came a twitch,

Simon moves again, riding the wave of his orgasm. He pants heavily, groaning when his cock aches for more, remembering the promise of your pussy plays on his mind.

“Good boy, You did so good.” His hand leaves your breast and trails down to your panties, tugging at the elastic. You can’t help but giggle,

“Okay big boy, you earned your reward.”

authors note: i don’t think Ghost talks much when he’s a sub, it’s a very vulnerable place for him, but when he’s dom? that’s another story

✦I have more C.o.D Quotes✦

Gaz: How’s your head? Y/N: Well, I haven’t had any complaints yet. Gaz: …excuse me? Y/N: Oh uh, I think I’ll live-

-- (Somewhere in Greece with a fuck ton of cats) Ghost, watching Price sneeze every five seconds: What a catastrophe. Gaz: No. Y/N: PFFT- Soap: Stop, no, don’t encourage him. Y/N: Ahem! Right, right. Not funny. Ghost: I am purrfectly capable of being funny. Y/N: *struggling* Gaz: Sometimes I wish you didn’t have a mouth.

-- Just a scene of Y/N taking out a bottle of whiskey, unscrewing they cap, then putting one of those lid caps on. (Like the ones you have on those fancy Gatorades) Taking a huge swig and closing the cap on it as Soap watches in amusement, & Price in fear.

-- Ghost: Quit messing with my hand. Soap: Quit messing with my hair! Y/N: Quit being gay. Gaz: PFFFT Y/N: Both problems solved.

-- Y/N, on the comms: You have thirteen seconds before the building fucking explodes you hot topic wannabe- Ghost: … Y/N: And you green gumball son of a bitch. Gaz: Wha-?! Soap: *WHEEZE* Y/N: You have done nothing but ruin my life; I hope you both die.

-- Soap, Gaz, & Y/N: *cackling* Laswell, losing at poker: I miss my wife, Price. Price: *places down cards* Laswell: I miss my wife.

-- Ghost, overstimulated & a lil drunk: AHHHHHH MY BONES Y/N: *frantically getting headphones* Soap, drunk: *wheeze* Gaz: Ah. I know I should’ve- *dies coughing* Soap: *more wheezing*

-- Graves *kicks in door* WHO POSTED MY NUDES ON TWITTER DOT COM?! Y/N: SUCK IT, BITCH BOY!! Alejandro: *aggressively slapping his leg while silently laughing* Rudy: *pointing and laughing* Valeria, in handcuffs: Ha, dumbass.

-- Graves: Bitch, you are gonna get in this car or I’m popping between ya eyes! Valeria: Hey, I know you. I saw your dick on Twitter! Graves: NOOOOOO Y/N: AHAHA!

-- Graves: C’mon Johnn- Y/N: *chucks a rock at Graves’ head* Graves: OW, WHY?! Y/N: NO JOHNNY FOR YOU! He goes by Soap and we respect that! Graves: Ghost calls him that! Y/N: CAUSE GHOST HAS PERMISSION, you EARN the right to Johnny! And I will be damned if anyone else earns the right before me. I been working my ass off to get the Johnny privilege and you will NOT get it for free! Soap, who’s just been standing there the whole time: *leans to Gaz* Have they actually been taking it that seriously? Gaz: Yeah. They’ve also been working real hard to try and get the right to call Captain “John”. Shoulda seen their face when I said they can call me Kyle. Soap: That’s…really sweet, I’ll give’em permission later. Gaz: Why not now? Soap: I wanna see that bastard get chewed out some more.

-- Y/N, perched on Price’s desk: Captain. Price: *sigh* Y/N: Captain I crave violence.

-- Ghost: Your family line deserves to die with you, only shame it didn’t end before you. Graves: ….I just sat down!

-- Y/N: You’re like…the human incarnation of crumbs in the bed. Graves: Oh c’MON THAT’S REAL MEAN Ghost: It’s true though. Y/N: The kinda crumbs that you keep swiping away but somehow they never leave- Graves: Alright! You know what- Soap: Like getting in bed after going to the beach. Gaz: Sand in the bed, yeah. Feels like that when he talks. Graves: I’M JUST GONNA FUCKIN LEAVE! Y/N: *watches him go* Annnd now the sheets have been changed. Ghost: Clean from filth. Alejandro: You all are so cruel and it’s perhaps the funniest thing I’ve ever seen.

-- Gaz: Things Gucci with you? Y/N: It’s Goodwill at best, my guy. Price: I don’t know what this means but I feel like I should be concerned.

-- (Mild NSFW Jokie Time) Gaz: You alright? You been zoned out. Y/N: Hm? Nah I’m good, just having depraved thoughts. Gaz: Depraved, you say? Soap: Oh do tell. Y/N: You just…you ever see someone and think “they have pretty eyes”. And that’s normal. But then the little devil in the back of ya skull goes “yeah they’d look good rolled back”. Or am I just a whore? Gaz: That is depraved. Soap: Got a good point though.

-- Y/N: Ooo! Look! Old pictures of Captain, this one’s dated. You would’ve been…19 in this one. Lemme s-…… Gaz: Lemme see! ….. Price: What? Y/N: …..you were a whore, weren’t you captain? Gaz: That’s the face of an arrogant bastard who fucks regularly. Price: I…might’ve been a bit of a playboy. Y/N: And I would’ve fallen for it you god damn bastard, no ones fACE SHOULD BE THAT NICE!

-- Valeria, painting her nails: I might kill my ex, not the best idea. His new girlfriend’s next- Alejandro: ….. Rudy: ….should I be worried? Alejandro: Move away quietly and pray.

-- Ghost: For the record this is self destructive. Soap, chugging his 5th energy drink in the past hour: For the record, I’m aware of that.

-- MILF!Y/N: Boys. Bed, now. I wanna talk to your captain. Price: No, boys stay. Please stay- Y/N: Go. Price: Stay. The boys: *concern, panic, perhaps a bit of fear* Y/N: Go! Price: Stay! Y/N: You go! Soap: *speed walking* Price: Soap, stay! Y/N: NOW! Gaz: *slowly backing away* Price: Gaz, don’t move! Y/N: YOU GO! Price: SIMON- Ghost: *leaving*

-- Ghost: What was Plan A? Soap: …don’t fuck up. Ghost: And what was Plan B? Gaz: Don’t fuck up Plan A. Ghost: And what did you do? Y/N: …fucked up plan a- Ghost: YOU FUCKED UP PLAN A-

-- Ghost: What’s rule number one? Soap, with dynamite: Party! Ghost: NO! No, not party! No!

-- Graves: How about after this, we get a drink? Y/N: …I would rather gouge out my eyes and blindly navigate a way to turn them into earrings than ever be anywhere alone with you. Soap, grinning: Ooooo brutal! Ghost: Karma.

-- Ghost: Wait…Johnny’s into me? Like…he LIKES me?? Gaz: Oh Si…you poor, sad, dense mother fucker.

-- Ghost: At least nothing of importance was lost. Laswell: …Graves was kidnapped. Ghost: I know. I said what I said. Y/N: Nothing of value was lost but we did shed off some trash! Ghost: Precisely.

-- Ghost: These lights make me wanna pull my eyes out and eat them. Medic!Y/N: *turns lights off in favor of a lamp* …alright, so you’re autistic, good to know.

-- Ghost: Should I get my reading glasses? Y/N: Oh no no, this isn’t an eye test. It’s a GAY test. Now tell me, *holds up picture of Farah & Graves; Price being 1* Number one, or number two? Ghost: Number one?… Y/N: Interesting. *holds up Farah & Soap, Soap being 2* Okay now number one, or number two? Ghost: *gasp* Y/N: Number two, right? Ghost: Maybe I am gay?

-- Waitress: So, I’ve gotta ask, I’m really curious. 141: ? Waitress: Have any of you ever used like…the military language in bed? Soap: Naaaah. Y/N: No, I don’t- PFFFT, I- *wheeze* I’m sorry I’m imagining it- Gaz: *biting back laughs* Y/N: “You gonna come?” Affirmative. *laughs* Soap: *WHEEZE* Gaz: *cackling* Price: Oh lord- Gaz, snickering: Picking up speed. Y/N: COPY- *Laughter x100* The entire team: *giggling like hyenas* Ghost: Uh, that’s a no. I don’t think we’ve done that.

-- Price: *smiles at Soap & Gaz being stupid* Y/N: I like when you smile. Price: …huh? Y/N: Your smile, I like it. Makes your eyes crinkle up and your beard makes you look like a cuddly bear. You should smile more. Price, internally on the verge of tears: *fond sigh* Get back to drills, soldier. Y/N: Yes sir!

-- Ghost: *minding his fucking business* Y/N: You have pretty eyes. Ghost: *chokes on air* Pardon? Y/N: You have pretty eyes. Ghost: No I-…they’re just brown. Y/N: So? Your eyes don’t have to be blue or green to be pretty. They’re pretty because they’re expressive, and when the sun hits them they look like syrup. I like’em best when we’re all at a bar. They get brighter then. Ghost: Ghost: …stop talking, sergeant. Y/N: Copy that, L.T! <3

-- Gaz: *laughing at something on his phone* Y/N: You have a great laugh. Gaz: Hm? Oh…really? Y/N: Mhm. It’s cute, comes from your chest. I’ve never heard you laugh in anyway that’s not genuine. Really fills the room with joy. Gaz: Dude, you’re gonna make me all soft with words like that. Y/N: All according to plan!

-- Soap: *rambling about something* Y/N: *listening intently* Soap: Then-…ah, I been talkin’ at you this whole time, eh? Should probably quiet down. Y/N: No no, I like your voice! Soap: Eh? Y/N: It’s super energetic and loud, and when you tell a joke or talk about something you love, it’s like you can hear your smile. It’s really fun to listen to. I like when you talk! Soap: *inhale* You’re gonna make me cry- Y/N: I have tissues!

-- König: *fidgeting* Y/N: *takes his hands* You have beautiful hands. König: Wh- Huh?? No they are not. Y/N: They are too! König: Nien, they’re rough and calloused, they break a lot of things… Y/N: They also pet stray cats, make the best coffee on base, and create crotchet works of art. They also mend wounds pretty well. Yeah they fire guns but that doesn’t make them less beautiful. König: *he’s actually crying* …Danke. Y/N: Don’t mention it!

-- Rudy: *rolling his shoulder* Y/N: Anyone ever tell you that you have great shoulders? Rudy: Hm? Oh uh…no, I don’t believe so. Y/N: Well you do! Rudy: Ah, gracias. When I was younger I wanted them to be broader, sometimes now I wish they were more narrow. Can never really be happy with’em, you know? Y/N: Well I think you should be. They’re strong! *gently pats his shoulders* They hold a lot of weight, metaphorically and physically. And even when they’re weighed down, you shoulder it and keep moving. You’re real good at that! I like your shoulders. Rudy, prepared to die for them: …gracias. Y/N: No problem! Now c’mon, the guys are waitin’ for us!

-- Y/N: You have good collarbones. Alejandro: What was that? Y/N: Sorry, I know that’s real specific, but I think your collarbones are pretty. It’s like…the rest of you is bulky and strong, rugged. Then you have these delicate bones. I’m probably being too poetic but it’s like a subtle nod to your gentler side, just, built into your body. Alejandro: …you have a lovely way with words, camarada. Y/N: Thank you! I appreciate that!!

I need everyone to understand that even as Palestinians, with everything that we grew up witnessing and learning about, some of what we've been seeing unfold in Gaza is still too horrific for us to bear or wrap our heads around

I swear having an endo flare up and fibro flare up at the same time is a bitch. I wanna die from the pain.

What’s going on in my Twitter/X DMs??? I need to be sedated.

I finally creeped him out enough. (What did him in was talking about babies and how one gave me baby fever.) 😂

There is someone on twitter that thinks it’s okay to start a relationship with me calling him daddy. 😂😂

I’m yours and older are songs that are by Isabel Larosa. the songs just give me the thoughts of price.(esp dbf).

We can make it towards any price imo (Im just a whore for him).

I’m just cracked thats why the phrasing isn’t great.🙃

'I'm yours,'/'older' with price is my favorite thought. I feel that he is just the one that the reader would pin to him.

explain to me the first thing i can't read

we talking about dbf!price?

is that the non tumblr way of saying it?

I don’t know what’s going on.🫨🫨🫨

There is someone on twitter that thinks it’s okay to start a relationship with me calling him daddy. 😂😂

i Love vaccines, autism, abortions, homosexuals, sex changes and crime

Yup...It's happened, shit is shady.

There is someone on twitter that thinks it’s okay to start a relationship with me calling him daddy. 😂😂

Just a small reminder

Do not stop talking about Palestine

Do not stop boycotting, do not stop protesting, do not stop speaking out. Be the voice for those who had their autonomy stripped away. Be the voice for the people, the parents, the grandparents, the children, the infants. Be the voice for the animals, the trees, the buildings, the very soil that has been desecrated. Stand up for what is right in whatever little way is possible, but do not stop talking about Palestine.

DO NOT STOP TALKING ABOUT PALESTINE

DO NOT STOP TALKING ABOUT PALESTINE

DO NOT STOP TALKING ABOUT PALESTINE

Okay, It may be okay...He's still under my watch!!

There is someone on twitter that thinks it’s okay to start a relationship with me calling him daddy. 😂😂

There is someone on twitter that thinks it’s okay to start a relationship with me calling him daddy. 😂😂