nobodyinfart

[nobodyinfart]

soap always ends up moping in your room after an hour or two of kyle and simon beating him handedly in multiple rounds of fifa. he doesn’t bother to close the door before slinking atop your bed.

you don’t even have to ask what’s wrong. the look on johnny’s face, a pouted frown of disappointment, tells you all you need to know.

always teamin’ up on me, hen, ‘n john jus’ sit’s there. s’not fair.

you’d respond if you weren’t busy gliding a heavy tongue on the underside of his head. it’s one of his favorite things, feeling the warm muscle snaking along his most sensitive parts. it never fails to makes him feel better.

you’re so good to him. too good, holding soap while he pouts, then sucking out the sadness with puffy lips and stroking hands that milk him until he can’t even remember why he was so upset in the first place.

soap ends up with his legs spread wide, a pretty shine to his hard cock and heavy balls that are on complete display. he grips and grabs at the bed aimlessly, flinching every time you sink him down your throat with a messy gag. he isn’t shy about letting you know how good it feels, either.

his projected groans of fuck and yes and deeper rattle all the way to the front room, where the game is long forgotten. as much as ghost and gaz adore the feeling of a good win, stroking each other to the sounds leaving johnny is even better. price ends up slouched in his recliner with an unbuckled belt and hand down his own pants, enjoying both the shows he being made privy to.

[nobodyinfart]

ok so since y'all seemed to like bear!price, let's run it back with the hybrid/shifter stuff!! let's talk about black panther!simon with a field mouse reader

black panther!simon who's taller than price but lankier seeming, and you find yourself doubting that he's as strong as his captain until you see his body actually working (once he hefted a fallen tree that was blocking their way in the jungle. he didn't even have to work that hard) and you realize the 'lankiness' is fucking deceptive

black panther!simon who's mask incorporates his furred, slightly pointed ears, making them sharp and sinister at the points, the human skull open at the bottom so he can flash a wide mouth of sharp fangs, poised to tear into flesh, retractable claws sliding out to slash a throat. no need for a knife when he's got blades in his mouth and his fingers to silence scouts and guards

black panther!simon who they thought would never be able to work with a team. too territorial, too solitary, too apathetic towards most others. but when you have a bear who sees you as his wayward cub, and a wolf and a collie that see you as pack, it's jut easier to give in and let them make you theirs. even if simon has to constantly be rubbing his head against their necks, ensuring they've got his scent. they're his territory too now

black panther!simon who is stealthy, more than a ghost in the night, he's fucking invisible. he can move without being heard, without being seen, melting completely into the backdrop of the night, a haunting nightmare to his enemies - if they manage to survive encountering him. they often don't. he's a true predator, and he hates to leave a kill incomplete

black panther!simon who can't stop staring when their team is assigned a new medic, a cute little mouse who squeaks and hides around the medical table when he goes in to get cleared for a mission, and he takes one look at her big, dark, round eyes wide and wet with fearful tears, thin tail lashing through the air, huge ears flattened to her head, and he's instantly hard

black panther!simon who looks at her and wants, decides that he wants to know what she tastes like, if her pussy is as sweet and little as the rest of her. he's never liked to play with his food, not much, but how could he resist when she's so cute, trying to sink her little teeth into the meat of his arm he's got wrapped around her like she could actually fight him off?

black panther!simon who puts her in his bed and gives her a pumpkin seed (fed to her by hand) in reward for each thing she tells him about herself. he drinks in the way her gaze shifts as he interrogates her (gentle, way easier than most of his interrogations but he doesn't want to break her, not like that at least, not when she's got something else coming), and her fear and suspicion melts into a vivid curiosity, a glassy eyed admiration

black panther!simon who rewards his little mouse for her information by telling her he's going to keep her safe, make it so even other predators know she's off limits. but to do so he's got to mark her up. and she's going to be brave and take it, won't she?

black panther!simon who buried his fangs in her fragile neck (only barely breaking skin, just enough to leave a good mark), eyes rolling back in his head as she squeaks and chitters endlessly while he ruts his cock deeper, an inch at a time, until those big dark eyes are glassy with cockdrunk lust and spilling fat tears down her cheeks, her cunt dripping as he fucks her deep

black panther!simon who's big enough, strong enough to break a cute little thing like her, but he's not breaking you, mouse, he's just breaking you in, you were made to take cock, to make those cute little noises when he's balls deep, and he's gonna use you for what you were made for: carrying his litter. gotta keep you marked up so people know who you belong to, and you do belong to him, mouse, now and forever

[nobodyinfart]

A little part 2 to my Serial Killer!Poly 141

Since you were all so kind and attacked me with so much love! Nearly died, but it’s fine.

TW for mention of torture

You were thinking hard. Kyle could see it from a mile away. You had a habit of going blank in the eyes and letting your tongue peak out from the soft center of your lips whenever you did. He watched you like a hawk instead of paying attention to the drama-filled show you had put on.

An idle hand rubbed up and down your calf, greedy in its possession. Wasn’t enough pressure to hurt, but it still claimed the soft flesh. Fingers dipping hard enough to dimple your skin. He always had to have a claiming touch on you.

He didn’t bother to question you. You always came forth. A perfect little bunny searching for validation.

“What’s a unique and slow way to torture someone?”

Kyle’s lips curled, and he frothed at the mouth when he heard that question. You didn’t know, but all of them loved when you let them play. They were overzealous puppies. Craving. Seeking. Catching. They chased the ball with tails whipping far too fast to see. They panted at each other’s heels, saliva dripping from around their teeth.

And you were their sweet (unsuspecting) partner in crime. You had an interesting darkness about you, but not in the way they liked to play. You were too good for muddied hands like theirs, but perfect at the same time. You always hand fed them treats and then skipped away, none the wiser to what you created.

“I’m not sure, dove,” Kyle replied.

His mind is now wandering, though. They had all been good boys lately. They deserved to indulge a little. He knew Simon specifically was going a little stir crazy, not having an outlet. They were helping their beloved become a bestseller. What was wrong with that?

They were always careful. Not playing their cards until you started to forget you even asked the question. They didn’t need their precious little writer to become suspicious and startle. They created such a utopia out of their unconventional relationship. If that crumbled, hell would leak out through the pores of the debris.

“Hm. Do you think an acid bath is slow?” You asked.

Kyle had to pause and take a deep breath for a moment. He loved it when you showed up a little demented. Nothing made him grit his teeth and adjust his hips more than when you rambled filth to your not-so-innocent significant others and then carried on being your sweet self. Maybe it was the cluelessness that had him stiffening up in his pants so fast.

You believed sweetness leaked from their mouths as well but never looked long enough to see the diluted red foam out shortly after. It was all innocent to you. Why would you have a reason to assume malice slept beside you when they were all so doting?

“In the middle,” Kyle finally answered. “Definitely painful.”

“Maybe too quick,” you hummed thoughtfully.

“I’ll let you know if I think of something, dove,” Kyle promised.

What was so wrong about the game they played when it always went towards a worthy charity?

Part 3

[nobodyinfart]

reunion :)

(heavily inspired by “all that’s said in the low light”)

[nobodyinfart]

For @nightunite. I actually came back with some Seal!Soap and some hurt/comfort of poly!141 x fruit bat!Reader. Hope this is satisfactory

Harbour seal!Soap who’s off the base whenever he can — getting back home as soon as possible, the favourite baby of his mama, the oldest son and pride of his family.

Harbour seal!Soap who has difficulty slotting into most teams, he’s not a pack hybrid, he’s not attuned to the thin threads of connection that wolves or bats or even cows can feel, he’s him and maybe that’s the problem?

Harbour seal!Soap who tries hard to blend in, because he is friendly, of course he is friendly, he’s the friendliest guy on base but whispers are that he smiles too wide, that his laugh is too strained, that his teeth are always out — sharp, menacing things.

Price takes one look at his file and thrusts the pup in Simon’s hands, hums to take care of the seal and Wolf!Simon isn’t even sure what the fuck is he supposed to do.

The lad is jumpy despite obvious brilliance, the lad is trying to smile so hard Simon’s wolf grumbles with the urge to paw at him, press cheeky pup in the ground, teach him some bloody manners. You don’t show your teeth off to the likes of Simon unless you want to have them knocked out.

But Soap wiggles his way in every conversation, eyes shiny and smiles wide up until Ghost corners him, looming like death himself — snarls that if he doesn’t want a big bad wolf to bite him, he’ll fucking stop.

Simon doesn’t know whether to act on his promise or laugh in disbelief when Johnny raises his head and grins wider, now showing off his own canine’s deliberately. Look at that, the pup can bite, can’t he?

Komodo dragon!Price just hums when he finds them tangled in each other and places a bite under Soap’s collar, teeth sinking in warm salty flesh, tongue licking off the blood.

Komodo dragons thrive on hierarchy, Price thrives on power — that’s the only thing he won’t compromise on.

Johnny grins and finds way in his arms as well. Too damn bad, captain, too damn bad. Harbour seals thrive on attention.

Their unit is all live wires and sparks and heavy heady tension — air so thick with perpetual hunger that they could carve their initials inside of a little heart.

It gets easier when Kyle arrives — he takes away some of the tension, he gets each of them, catching up on everything twice as fast as Soap did.

It scratches Johnny the wrong way, makes a sensitive small part of him whine that this is it, that Kyle will take his place because how can anyone not like Kyle? Kyle is handsome, Kyle is bright and so effortlessly charming Soap wants to whip out little notebook where sergeant speaks.

But at some point Gaz pecks a kiss to his temple and pulls him on the couch of the rec room. Warm, inviting, draping hand over his shoulders — draping wing over both of them.

Soap watches him — teeth sharp, jaws itching to try the pretty wings on the pretty Gaz, head plopping in his lap.

Kyle slots into their team like he always was there — fingers careful in Johnny’s hair, hands warm around Ghost’s shoulders, talons sharp on Price’s skin.

And then you arrive. Little bat with big eyes and big wings and some of the fluffiest hair Soap has ever seen.

You don’t slot in like Gaz, you are a little rougher around the edges, a little awkward with your approaches.

Bats are social creatures but not all of us take the best parts from our hybrid sides.

You are bloody amazing at what you do, your efficiency is not a concern but you don’t wiggle your way right in the team.

You hover on the outside, you eat your fruits alone (he isn’t even sure why you even eat them? Aren’t bats carnivores? Maybe you just like them) and in the dark, you watch them — always in the periphery of the vision. But never too close.

You remind Soap himself.

Small childish part of him wants to keep things that way, small childish part of him doesn’t like new people on the team, doesn’t like sharing attention.

But you don’t ask for any. You are just there.

It takes him month and a half and a stupid joke Ghost makes about vampires for you to reply that you are a) vegetarian b) a fruit bat and not a spectral bat for Soap to feel like someone kicked him in the face. Simon pauses, tilting head to the side, his tail stopping its friendly wag.

Your smile is too wide, your teeth are so sharp and you don’t try to fit in.

You try to stay away.

They don’t know you and you just let them know that they don’t. You just let them know that they haven’t tried to know you.

Soap spends the whole evening googling information about your species with Ghost hovering above his shoulder, dark eyes reading faster than Soap scrolls.

The next morning is the first time none of them comments on the amount of fruit you consume for breakfast.

Kyle slots in next to you, murmurs “gorgeous wings, love”, asks if you could help him with preening, offers you company for the morning drills.

Offer makes something in you flutter, sending spark of hope down your chest, your big eyes zeroing on warm friendly Kyle.

(Kyle will never admit how embarrassed he was to realise that you slipped through the cracks. Kyle will never admit that social “bird” part of him croaked with distress when he noticed that you are always a little behind. Never with them.)

Soap feels something in him clench when you glance in his direction and then shake your head at Kyle. Soap knows why you looked at him very very well.

He notices Price with your file in the afternoon, reading glasses on the tip of his nose, tail swaying in with something very similar to agitation. Price doesn’t know how to crack on you, you never fight for his right at the top of the food chain, you never contest his power. He has nothing to bite down on.

Soap isn’t sure you will give captain anything to hook on. Soap isn’t sure you feel like you can.

Johnny finds you late at night, ridiculously big bowl of fruit in your lap, his cheeks burning when your head snaps up at him and you put it away.

He and Ghost used to tease you about the amount of fruits and berries you consumed — you started eating less at dinners with them.

Soap’s throat bobs when he gulps and he shakes his head, plopping himself down on the carpet next to you.

He should have thought you’d find a way to catch up on your meals when no one looks.

When no one can make you feel wrong for eating what you like to eat.

Johnny extends his palm to you. You won’t eat while he’s here but he’d like you to. Maybe you will continue if he asks you to share.

Wikipedia page smacks his brain immediately, reminding that fruit bats eat alone and are very protective of their food.

Bloody awesome, Johnny, you might’ve as well tried to wrestle fruits out of your grip.

But before his panic forces him to hide his palm away you carefully place a date in his palm, your darker claws cool and pointy. Soap doesn’t know why but he stares, eyes gluing to him.

“Can do damage with these, eh?”, he attempts at having conversation, trying not to smile too wide. Not to show off too much teeth.

You hum out “depends” and in demonstration poke a piece of orange, skewing it on a thin claw.

Soap feels his brows arch, leaning closer, unbidden “how many can you stack on ‘em?” leaving his mouth before he thinks.

To his absolute delight you snicker and pass him the bowl.

He spends the rest of the hour stacking pieces of fruit and skewing berries on your claws and watching as you practically inhale them once he’s done.

When you two finish up the bowl, you both are covered in juice and are grinning like mad idiots but Soap never felt lighter.

He watches you grin back at him — wide and toothy — and feels something shifting.

Maybe he’s not the pack hybrid like Ghost or doesn’t have Kyle’s easy charm or even John’s acute understanding of dynamics within the team. But he is him and it seems like that’s exactly what you need.

Few months later Soap finds himself with you nuzzled in his neck, Kyle plastered over you two like he’s a big blanket, Simon reading something in the quiet low voice of his and John already crawling into den you call bed.

It’s warm and he’s squished by people who like him from every side and he finally belongs.

Soap presses a kiss to the top of your head and smiles wide when you raise it, giving him a slow sleepy blink. His smiles are wide and toothy.

His smiles are always welcomed with his team.

And so is he.

[nobodyinfart]

Simon Riley, who discovers (and accepts) that he has a raging Mommy kink on a random Saturday, when he meets you in the supermarket around the corner of his flat, where you click your tongue at him in reprimand, ogling him shamelessly as he checks out the new flavours of Ramen noodle cups.

And his spine goes rigid, when you address him directly.

"Big lad like you needs a proper meal," you remark, pushing your grocery cart full of fresh meats, produce, and other healthy goodies past him. "In my humble opinion." You add, nearly cooing at him as he dares a side glance from behind his balaclava.

Within seconds, his eyes flicker to your left hand on the cart, checking for a wedding band, checking for anything that could help him figure out who you are, really.

His fingers dig into the plastic cup that looks comically tiny in his hands, fingers nearly denting the fabric as he tries to come up with a witty, dry remark to keep you from leaving, to start a bloody conversation for once, but then you hit him with a "Have a good day, love." and his breath catches in his throat like someone punched his solar plexus.

By the time you round the corner to the next aisle over, his cock is so painfully chubbed up in his jeans, Simon fears he might faint from the sudden rush of blood down south.

And he doesn't quite know what he's feeling in this moment, but he puts the Ramen back into the shelf, boots squeaking on the linoleum floor as he turns on his heels to give chase like an abandoned pup who might have just imprinted on his new mommy.

Oh, Simon's going to get that proper meal, one way or another—hoping you'll let him have your sweet cunt for dessert.

[nobodyinfart]

Oml 😭 you’re stories continue to make my day, thank you so much! I was wondering if I can just get some domestic fluff with the task force 141

You're so sweet! Thank you!! I can absolutely write some domestic fluff. I've been working on Dog with No Teeth and some more suggestive prompts, and this is such a great break from it. Expect softness and gentle!141.

For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE

Task Force 141 x Female Reader

Content & Warnings: domestic fluff, married life, softness, kissing

Word Count: 800

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // imagines & what if series

John Price

John wakes before you. He always does. It’s engrained in him—like clockwork.

In the soft rays of the early morning sun, John drinks his tea while reading over the weekend chore list you’ve made. It hangs on the fridge, clipped to the metal by a homemade magnet your youngest made in primary school. You have it in your head that you’re going to get up at a decent time and knock it all out.

It’s cute that you think so.

Especially since you’ve run yourself ragged all week, falling into bed completely knackered that you’re snoring in your sleep.

What you need is some rest, not an early morning full of activity. It’s the weekend. You belong on the porch with a blanket and book. With you in his lap, using him as a bed.

John finishes his tea and rinses out the mug, placing it in the dishwasher. He’ll make himself another once he wakes the children. Slipping into the bedroom, John goes for your alarm clock, turning it off. You deserve to sleep in. John can handle the work while you have some peace.

The littles won’t bother you. He’ll make sure you get some needed rest.

John "Soap" MacTavish

“Can you try this?”

Johnny comes around the kitchen island, leaning against the countertop as you scoop up some of the fluffy whipped cream. You present the spoon, an eager excitement glittering in your gaze.

Johnny opens his mouth, allowing you to guide the spoon inside. The tips of your fingers gently brush the underside of his chin. Closing his lips around it, you drag the spoon out slowly. The whipped cream melts on his tongue. It’s perfectly sweet.

“How is it?” you ask. “I’m a little worried it’s too sweet. Might overpower the lemon curd.”

“It’s perfect,” he purrs.

“Really?”

Johnny scrapes a bit of whipped cream off the top of the mixing bowl. Popping his finger into his mouth, Johnny sighs with contentment. Your smile grows, and Johnny can’t help but adore just how beautiful you are like this. It’s his favorite version of you.

As you reach for the lemon curd, Johnny grabs your hips, pulling you against him. A small giggle escapes you and Johnny loves the sound. Lowering his head, he teases the tip of your nose with his own until you’re flustered and wiggling. Only then does he close the distance for a kiss.

Simon "Ghost" Riley

It’s a Sunday afternoon. You and Simon have nothing to do. Nowhere to go. Peace and rest and simple pleasures only.

You’re snuggled up on the sofa, sinking against the cushions with a book in your hand. On the television, a trashy reality show plays at low volume. You’re not watching it, but it’s not for you.

Simon is curled up next to you, sprawled out and using your thigh as a pillow. A blanket is draped over him and covering your legs. He has one arm tucked behind your back and the other is resting across you, his large hand gently massaging the thigh he’s not resting his head on.

He’s watching the television, but his eyelids are heavy, chest moving in slow, shallow breaths. Sleep is creeping up on him.

Reaching out with one hand, you thread your fingers through his hair, lightly massaging his scalp. Simon sighs, snuggling a bit closer. Switching from his scalp, you move to his neck, and then his upper back, using your nails to tease his skin. You keep a languid place, moving back and forth across his skin.

There’s nothing better than this quiet moment with your husband. Shared. Simple. Perfect.

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

“Do you want some music?”

“I’d love that.”

Kyle walks over to the record player, fingers skimming over the collection of vinyl records. He reaches out to select one, and pauses.

“Just pick something,” you laugh, grabbing the dish soap.

“I will,” he chuckles softly, drumming his fingers against his bottom lip as he decides on which.

You roll your eyes, putting the stopper in the skin.

“Here we are,” says Kyle. As you start filling the sink with hot water, a jazzy number fills the room. Kyle grooves over to the vacuum, and you realize you’re grinning. Bopping his head and shaking his shoulders, Kyle switches on the hoover.

It’s routine then, the two of you moving around each other as you do your weekly cleaning. When you start dusting the ceiling fan, Kyle creeps up on you, hands falling on your waist.

“What?” you laugh, turning toward him, only to laugh harder as Kyle starts dancing up on you. “Stop,” you snort, playfully smacking at him.

“Dance with me,” he smiles, wiggling his eyebrows. Kyle offers you his hand, and you take it, the two of you coming together into a slow sway that makes you tingle everywhere.

taglist:

@glitterypirateduck @suhmie @z-wantstowrite @kylies-love-letter @keiva1000

@iloveslasher @ravenpoe67 @sadlonelybagel @nishim @arrozyfrijoles23

@voids-universe @itsberrydreemurstuff @sageyxbabey @glassgulls @miaraei

@weasleytwins-41 @eternallyvenus @chaostwinsofdestruction @cherryofdeath @ninman82

@fern-reads @waves-against-a-cliff @beebeechaos @smileykiddie08 @whisperwispxx

@jianyi22 @sethell @atpeacee @konigssweatyhood @dreamingoftomorrow

@katerinaval @morguethemagpie @galactict3a @sarah-the-bird-nerd @mikachu-bitez

@unclearblur @kurochan3 @sans-chara @all-by-myself98 @hisuccubus

@km-ffluv @thriving-n-jiving @carbonnite-copy @sobbangchan @codeseven

@youre-a-wallflower-charlie @tiredmetalenthusiast @sporadicpizzainternet @tessakate @mistresssolana

[nobodyinfart]

part 1 part 2

You don’t hear from him for two days. Not a text. Not a call. Not a single word. So you finally text him something short—coming by later to grab the rest of my stuff. You didn’t want to leave it like this, but you're not gonna be the one to chase him anymore. You gave him more chances than you should’ve, waited too long for a guy who couldn’t even tell you he wanted you to stay.

He doesn’t reply, but the front door’s unlocked when you get there.

You push it open, step inside, and the second you do, he’s there—leaning in the doorway between the kitchen and the hall, like he’s been waiting, like he knew you’d come at exactly that time. You pause, feeling weird about the way he's just standing there watching you, but you keep your eyes ahead and walk toward the bedroom.

And then the lock clicks, and you freeze.

“Did you just lock the door?”

Simon doesn’t even flinch. Just walks toward you slowly, like this is normal. “Yeah.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re not leaving.”

You blink at him, trying to figure out if he’s joking or if he’s actually lost it. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“You’re not leaving me.”

“Simon—”

“No,” he says, firmer this time, standing in front of you now. “I’m not letting you go. I fucked up. I know I did. I should’ve said something. I should’ve grabbed you when you were walking out. Should’ve told you how much it was killing me to watch you leave. But I didn’t. And I regret it. And I’m not gonna let you pack up your shit and pretend like we don’t mean anything.”

You roll your eyes, trying not to let your voice shake. “I’m just here to get my stuff.”

“No, you’re not,” he says, following you as you walk into the bedroom and grab the bag off the floor. “You’re here because you’re hoping I’ll say something to make you stay.”

You start throwing your things into the bag without looking at him. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

He walks over and calmly pulls your sweatshirt out of the bag and folds it before putting it right back in the drawer.

You stare at him. “What are you doing?”

“Putting it back.”

“Simon, I swear to god—”

He pulls out another shirt, smooths it, puts it back in the closet.

“Stop it!” you snap, trying to push past him to grab it again.

But he steps in front of you, puts his arms around you and holds you against his chest. “No. You’re not going anywhere. I can’t let you. I haven’t slept, haven’t eaten anything that wasn’t complete shit, and I’ve been sitting in this house trying to figure out how I let the one person who gave a fuck about me walk out. I know I ruined it. I know you don’t trust me anymore. But I’ll earn it back. I’ll do whatever you want. I’ll fix it. I swear.”

You struggle against him, not hard, but enough to make it clear you’re not just giving in. “Let go of me.”

He tightens his arms around you instead and presses a kiss to your cheek. Then another, and another, soft little ones, all over your face—your nose, your jaw, your forehead—mumbling between them like he’s afraid if he stops talking you’ll slip away again.

“I love you. I know I didn’t say it before but I do, and I’ve loved you for so fucking long and I didn’t know how to show it right, but I’ll learn. Just don’t go. Please. Ask anything from me, and I’ll do it. I’ll take time off, I’ll go to therapy, I’ll talk more, I’ll do the dishes without you asking. Just stay. I’ll give you everything. Just give me one more shot. Please, love. Please.”

You’re still half trapped in his arms, his voice right by your ear, and you try to stay mad, you really do. But the longer he holds you, the more ridiculous this whole scene feels, and the more you remember how badly you wanted him to fight for you, just once.

“Anything?” you ask, just to test it.

“Yeah. Anything. Just name it.”

You pull your head back a little, looking up at him. “You’ll let me get a cat?”

He blinks. “A cat?”

“You said no every time I brought it up.”

He groans a little but then lets out this small, helpless laugh and buries his face in your neck. “Fuckin’ hell. Yeah. Fine. Get a cat. Get two. I’ll buy it a bed nicer than mine, yeah?”

You try to hide your smile, but it slips through. “Even if it scratches your favorite chair?”

He looks up at you with a look of pure defeat. “Love, I’d let it scratch my face at this point. Just—don’t go, alright?”

You sigh, and it comes out more like a laugh, and he takes it as a win, because he pulls you in even tighter and doesn’t let go.

And this time, you don’t push him away.

------------------------------------------

can you forgive me now?

@daydreamerwoah @kylies-love-letter @ghostslollipop @kittygonap @alfiestreacle @identity2212 @farylfordaryl @rafaelacallinybbay @akkahelenaa @lovelovelovelovelove987654321 @wraith-bravo6 @tachiara @marispunk @gluttonybiscuits

[nobodyinfart]

So... I found this and now it keeps coming to mind. You hear about "life-changing writing advice" all the time and usually its really not—but honestly this is it man.

I'm going to try it.

[nobodyinfart]

The team is trapped, no way out. Alarms are blaring, smoke and dust are filling the air. And with no way out you figure fuck it... what consequences are there to kissing the man you've had eyes for since the beginning... only for Laswell to come in with the assist and Nik to fly you all to safety... and now there *are* consequences to your actions.

Or Alternatively.

You're about to die and (insert 141 man) lays one on you.

For @kattsmuse

Drabble series:

You kiss your Captain.

Your Captain kisses you.

You kiss your Lieutenant.

Your Lieutenant kisses you.

You kiss Sergeant Garrick.

Sergeant Garrick kisses you.

You kiss Sergeant MacTavish.

Sergeant MacTavish kisses you.

[nobodyinfart]

Just a lil' Gaz x reader HC about you not keeping up with food and water

-o-

"Coffee's a diuretic. It doesn't count as hydration. You know that, Love."

You sat sullenly in silence. Gaz was right, there. But it didn't mean you had to acknowledge his annoying logic. You had your own mystical ways, even if you sat in front of the comms board with an excruciating headache and no breakfast. The usual.

"But...it's liquid. It has water in it..."

You didn't need to be there to know that Kyle was attempting to transmit an utterly deadpan look over the radio waves. The crunch of his boots on concrete, the click of his gun, meant that he'd cleared the area successfully and was now waiting on further commands from Captain Price to continue. So what better way to spend his time than to check up on you and make sure you were actually trying to stay alive and not down yourself from malnutrition. Which, unfortunately, you had a habit of having inconsistent mealtimes and relied on too much caffeine to do your job as a communications specialist. When Gaz was back on base, you were better about it, but when he was gone, all progress went out the window, a large part due to anxiety around his deployment.

Also, he just bought you that new espresso machine, so the blame was partly on him, too.

He sighed. It made you want to suck the rest of the caramel drizzle from the bottom of your tumbler even harder. "I knew you were going to say that, so I went ahead and ordered food and water for you."

What?

"Should be arriving right about...now."

Out of nowhere, Laswell appeared and carefully set a sealed paper bag and a large bottle of water next to your keyboard. The neat package from your favorite eatery boasted of a hearty salad, rice bowl with tons of protein, and a big portion of mixed fruit. You weren't the biggest fan of plain water, so at least it was peach-flavored; had some fancy vitamins in it, too.

This was definitely a lot of food for one meal. Laswell gave you a knowing look and you sighed, getting to work on drinking the water first before you getting to the food. You finally noticed your stomach grumbled.

Okay, so maybe you were hungrier than you thought.

"No ice cream until you finish all that. All right?"

Drat.

Snorting, Laswell hummed her agreement and made a gentle shooing motion for you to take your spoils and let her assume the comms during downtime. "I can handle the rest. I saw that Nikolai already secured the packaged took care of the targets himself. I think we're now just waiting on extraction. Let your partner eat."

"Of course."

You awkwardly muttered a thanks and scurried off, feeling miles better already from the few bits you munched on. Now that the floodgates opened, you were quite ravenous, finishing off all of the food, right down to the last berry, especially once Soap came in to the cafeteria and started demanding some. You sometimes thought he did it on purpose, as if he knew that his antics would get you to eat through sheer competitiveness; well, it worked, because you were stuffed and content with no headache.

Smiling, you took a picture of your empty water bottle and sent it to Gaz through text. Your favorite ice cream was calling your name, and if you didn't hurry, you knew Johnny was going to hoover up all of it.

And maybe have another iced coffee for later.

[nobodyinfart]

How would they react to your jealousy?

PSA: green is such'a good look on you, dear

Let’s be real, all of them will attract attention from different groups of people (oftentimes, not from just one sexual or gender orientation). There is no doubt that there will be instances where your jealousy sparks brighter than ever, seeing a cheeky hand on your lover that sends your blood boiling. Of course, you are secure in your relationship,, but that’s not to say that the boys will not have a certain reaction to your possessive attitude. 

For our beloved Soap, he is the life of the party. More often than not, he will be seen in the middle of the dance floor pulling off the cheekiest dance moves known to man. Like hot damn, who taught him how to swing his hips like that? For him, it’s more of the aftermath - hearing you growl at the offender with the sleazy hand to get off your boyfriend or you’d rip them a new one had to be the greatest aphrodisiac to exist. That fire behind your eyes is so pretty, a spark that Johnny is sure would lead to fireworks in bed later on. He can’t help himself, really - not when he knows that he would be railed out of his thoughts later. For a good couple of days, no one even dares to approach him - with the way his hickeys make him look like he’s been mauled by a bear. That pleased smirk he wears does make you suspicious that he swings his hips extra hard intentionally - as if he wanted some hopeless idiot to chase his tail.

Gaz is no doubt the residential pretty boy, like come on. Those chocolate brown eyes look too alluring to ignore, beckoning him many free drinks along with irritating company. Even at work, there is a threat from the higher-ups to not fall for his puppy dog eyes, no matter the request. Unlike playful Soap, I don’t think Gaz is the type to get you jealous on purpose - since he seems to be very content with being off the market to everyone else. However, that’s not to say there aren’t people who will try to get the elusive Kyle. Definitely the type of guy who will sass the other person to deter their advances, that sharp tongue paired with the nastiest attitude. If that’s not enough,,, let’s just say his darling’s shadow is starting to loom over his intruder - here’s to hoping you will go easy on this one, not all of them can handle your threatening like the last one.

Captain Price may just be surprised at the fact that he can still get game,, since he isn’t the conventional attractive type people go swarming for. Unbeknownst to him, age is just a number to many and he caters to a different taste that is still well in-demand. Maybe it’s a barrack bunny, hoping to climb up the hierarchy - not observant enough to notice that the absence of his wedding ring on his finger because it was looped onto his necklace. Captain is sure to mention being taken - happily, he will add - but not to much avail, the bunny pursuits rather intensively. Rumours fly, and it’s safe to say that the barrack bunny’s next visit would be hijacked. You on his lap with a raised eyebrow and a dazed Price with an absolutely dazed expression, his lips swollen enough for the poor soul to know that he was very much accounted for.

There are two schools of thought for Ghost, that he’s well aware he’s smoking or that he’s in denial. I’m a firm believer that dear Simon Riley knows he’s a looker. C’mon, anyone who sees that hunk of a body whips their head to gawk when he walks past, he has to be an idiot to not notice. He has biceps big enough to crush someone’s head - and the perfect size for arms to loop around for a hug. Along with the yummiest ass on this earth, the man is eye candy. Personally, Simon is the type to not acknowledge some admirer’s existence - just a chuff of acknowledgement translated into a simple thanks. Hell, you don’t even have to move a muscle - since Simon’s nonchalant attitude changes when he sees you. The man moving to your side faster than the other can blink, the soft look of hs brown eyes enough for all to see how much he adores you. Admirer, what admirer? Doll, he’s all yours - heart and soul with your name etched like an engraving to metal.

On the other hand,,, I believe that they will be equally tempted if you were to scoff at their company - a hint of mockery in your tone, as if you're in disbelief that these flies would ever appeal to your beloved… the yummy possibility that you are confident of their love enough to know that their attention is entirely yours,,, IS SO YUMMY. Maybe, your own payback or giving them a gentle smooch just for the flirt’s idol to melt at your feet? WALK THEM LIKE A DOG, WOOF WOOOOFFFF

[nobodyinfart]

(a very low-effort post abt 141 x their new hacker- you. For better immersion, click on the song link during Soap’s workout! <3)

The first time you make contact, it’s through their personal phones.

Not the official military-issued devices- no, those would be too easy. You wanted to make an impression.

So when Price, Ghost, Gaz, and Soap each glance at their personal screens, expecting the usual notifications from Laswell, they’re instead greeted by:

(¬‿¬) Hello, boys.

Price sighs like a disappointed father, having been forwarned of your antics, and still immediately calls Laswell.

“Care to explain why my phone just got hijacked?”

Laswell doesn’t sound surprised. If anything, she sounds like she’s been expecting and waiting for this- for his phone call specifically about getting hacked. “That’s your new hacker.”

Price pinches the bridge of his nose, while the others exchange Looks of Consideration™️. “That’s how she introduces herself?”

“She’s efficient.”

“She’s cheeky.”

“She’s listening,” you interject, making them all jolt as your voice plays from the phone speakers, honey-sweet and undeniably smug.

There’s a long silence. Then Gaz whispers: “What the fuck?”

You giggle. (≧◡≦) flashes onto all their screens right after that, just as cheeky as your tone.

“So she’s just gonna creep around in our phones now?” Gaz asks after that, wary, an eyebrow raised and his arms crossed.

In response, just his screen flickers, and a new message appears.

(╯°□°）╯︵ ┻━┻ Rude.

Laswell sighs again, much like an exasperated mother, and gestures at their phones. “Give her a chance. She is, despite everything, good at what she does.”

And so from that that moment on, you’re everywhere; they don’t see you, but they feel your presence. You’re in their systems, their devices, and their comms.

Ghost boots up his laptop one day, only to find that his standard background has been replaced with a pixelated skull and crossbones- like those they did on pirate ships in movies. Below it, in small text:

For the spookiest boy.

He says nothing, just tilts his head slightly before closing the laptop.

And when Price logs into the briefing room terminal, instead of the standard military insignia, the screen briefly flashes with the words:

WELCOME BACK, CAPTAIN DILF.

Soap loses it. Price glares at him, then at the screen, then sighs, muttering, “Christ.”

Soap isn’t free from your shenanigans, though.

One day, while doing his usual workout, he pulls up his playlist. The moment he presses play, his music app forcefully closes and reopens with “The Drunk Scotsman” blasting at full volume.

“NO, NO, NO-“ Soap scrambles to shut it off as the entire base turns to look at him.

On his screen, once the app is blessedly closed, a message pops up:

(ʘ‿ʘ) Dance, pretty boy.

And then Gaz’s torture is quieter, but no less effective.

Every so often, while he’s texting, his camera light flickers on. Not long enough to take a photo- just a brief, eerie blink before an emoji appears on his screen:

( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

He groans. “She’s messing with me.”

“You mean flirting?” Soap smirks, leaning closer to the phone and chuckling as the camera light flickers back on for just another few seconds.

Gaz scowls. “…I hope so.”

Still, despite all your antics, you’re brilliant at what you do. And they learn this firsthand during their first mission with you.

“All teams, check-in.” Price orders as they move through a darkened compound.

Instead of Laswell’s voice responding, it’s yours. Soft, smooth, and playful.

“Five by five, Captain.”

There’s a pause- brief but notable. Then, Price exhales. “You hacking my comms now, too?”

“Wouldn’t be a very good hacker if I couldn’t, would I?”

Soap snorts, snickering with Gaz. “She’s got a point.”

Ghost, listening quietly, murmurs: “Thought you didn’t speak.”

“Only when necessary. Or when I feel like annoying you.”

Your voice is warm, teasing. If Ghost were anyone else, he might have smiled. And then, just like that, you’re all business.

“Sniper on the rooftop, two o’clock.”

Ghost adjusts, and then fires. A body drops.

“Price, your six.”

The captain pivots, taking down the enemy creeping behind him.

“Soap, slow down.”

“I got this,” Soap insists- only for a grenade to go off near him. “…I don’t got this.”

“Clearly.”

“…Shut up.”

With you in their ears, everything runs smoother. Their feeds don’t lag. Their encryptions are tighter. They feel- secure. With you and Laswell? Almost untouchable, but they don’t let it get to their heads.

When they return to base, exhausted but alive, their phones light up with a single message:

(￣︶￣) Good job, boys.

They stare at their screens, and then Price huffs a laugh. Soap grins. Gaz shakes his head. Ghost, unseen beneath his mask, smirks.

They don’t know your face. Haven’t met you in person.

But they decide you’re theirs, and they are yours. Even if you’re just unknown- for now, anyways.

[nobodyinfart]

How would they react to your jealousy?

PSA: green is such'a good look on you, dear

Let’s be real, all of them will attract attention from different groups of people (oftentimes, not from just one sexual or gender orientation). There is no doubt that there will be instances where your jealousy sparks brighter than ever, seeing a cheeky hand on your lover that sends your blood boiling. Of course, you are secure in your relationship,, but that’s not to say that the boys will not have a certain reaction to your possessive attitude. 

For our beloved Soap, he is the life of the party. More often than not, he will be seen in the middle of the dance floor pulling off the cheekiest dance moves known to man. Like hot damn, who taught him how to swing his hips like that? For him, it’s more of the aftermath - hearing you growl at the offender with the sleazy hand to get off your boyfriend or you’d rip them a new one had to be the greatest aphrodisiac to exist. That fire behind your eyes is so pretty, a spark that Johnny is sure would lead to fireworks in bed later on. He can’t help himself, really - not when he knows that he would be railed out of his thoughts later. For a good couple of days, no one even dares to approach him - with the way his hickeys make him look like he’s been mauled by a bear. That pleased smirk he wears does make you suspicious that he swings his hips extra hard intentionally - as if he wanted some hopeless idiot to chase his tail.

Gaz is no doubt the residential pretty boy, like come on. Those chocolate brown eyes look too alluring to ignore, beckoning him many free drinks along with irritating company. Even at work, there is a threat from the higher-ups to not fall for his puppy dog eyes, no matter the request. Unlike playful Soap, I don’t think Gaz is the type to get you jealous on purpose - since he seems to be very content with being off the market to everyone else. However, that’s not to say there aren’t people who will try to get the elusive Kyle. Definitely the type of guy who will sass the other person to deter their advances, that sharp tongue paired with the nastiest attitude. If that’s not enough,,, let’s just say his darling’s shadow is starting to loom over his intruder - here’s to hoping you will go easy on this one, not all of them can handle your threatening like the last one.

Captain Price may just be surprised at the fact that he can still get game,, since he isn’t the conventional attractive type people go swarming for. Unbeknownst to him, age is just a number to many and he caters to a different taste that is still well in-demand. Maybe it’s a barrack bunny, hoping to climb up the hierarchy - not observant enough to notice that the absence of his wedding ring on his finger because it was looped onto his necklace. Captain is sure to mention being taken - happily, he will add - but not to much avail, the bunny pursuits rather intensively. Rumours fly, and it’s safe to say that the barrack bunny’s next visit would be hijacked. You on his lap with a raised eyebrow and a dazed Price with an absolutely dazed expression, his lips swollen enough for the poor soul to know that he was very much accounted for.

There are two schools of thought for Ghost, that he’s well aware he’s smoking or that he’s in denial. I’m a firm believer that dear Simon Riley knows he’s a looker. C’mon, anyone who sees that hunk of a body whips their head to gawk when he walks past, he has to be an idiot to not notice. He has biceps big enough to crush someone’s head - and the perfect size for arms to loop around for a hug. Along with the yummiest ass on this earth, the man is eye candy. Personally, Simon is the type to not acknowledge some admirer’s existence - just a chuff of acknowledgement translated into a simple thanks. Hell, you don’t even have to move a muscle - since Simon’s nonchalant attitude changes when he sees you. The man moving to your side faster than the other can blink, the soft look of hs brown eyes enough for all to see how much he adores you. Admirer, what admirer? Doll, he’s all yours - heart and soul with your name etched like an engraving to metal.

On the other hand,,, I believe that they will be equally tempted if you were to scoff at their company - a hint of mockery in your tone, as if you're in disbelief that these flies would ever appeal to your beloved… the yummy possibility that you are confident of their love enough to know that their attention is entirely yours,,, IS SO YUMMY. Maybe, your own payback or giving them a gentle smooch just for the flirt’s idol to melt at your feet? WALK THEM LIKE A DOG, WOOF WOOOOFFFF

[nobodyinfart]

Simon Riley with a wife that loves to cook him lunches. I like to think this is in the same universe as this blurb. CW : None. Pure fluff

Simon loves waking up, having a shower, and then coming downstairs to see a plate of breakfast on the kitchen island, and you, in the kitchen, wearing one of his shirts as your pyjamas.

Simon loves wrapping his arms around your waist as you cook whatever you're making for him.

And it's not as though he demands it, or expects it. Ever since the two of you got married and you got to work from home instead of in the office, you would make Simon lunch.

It wasn't always in the morning, either. Sometimes you would just show up to the 141 base, greeting everyone with a sweet smile. Before handing Simon a still warm container of food.

Simon loved your cooking, but something he loved even more was the ego boost he received from his mates. Johnny especially.

Johnny always commented on what Simon had for lunch. Expressing how good it was and how he wishes he had a 'bonnie lass' at home that would make lunch for him.

Then, Simon made the mistake of telling you about Johnny's words.

Simon had said it in passing while the two of you were cuddling in bed. Chuckling to himself, not even noticing the pout on your lips.

He shouldn't have been surprised when in the morning, he saw two containers, instead of one. One labeled "Simon ‪‪❤︎‬", the other labeled "Johnny ‪‪❤︎‬".

Simon slid the container across the table as he sat across from Johnny. The scotsman looking confused before his eyes lit up.

"She cook this for me, did she?" Johnny smiled brightly.

"Aye. But don't get a big head about it" Simon glared.

"How can I no' get a big head aboot it? sweet lass she is. Migh' have tae steal her from ye"

"don't even think about it"

"She e'en put a heart nex' tae ma name, Simon. She must fancy me"

"I'm telling her you hated the food"

"No! dinnae dae that ye big brute! she'll think A'm a bastard!"

"You are one"

Simon brought home two empty containers that night. Telling you about how Johnny groaned with every mouthful and nearly licked the container clean.

You also started receiving sloppy kisses on the cheek from Johnny whenever you brought lunch in during the day for your husband and his best friend.

⛧°. ⋆𓌹♰𓌺⋆. °⛧

[nobodyinfart]

Poly!141 x Hacker!Reader

Now now now- hear me out..... add a twist ...

GN!Reader

(Autistic!Reader anyone?)

CW: NSFW, Reader sees TF141..doing the sideways tango, Reader is not as harmless as they seem, mentions of murder, canon violence,

You work on base as one of the ''pencil pushers'' one of the useless tech drones who are constantly overlooked despite putting in hours upon hours of overtime to avoid people stealing and potentially selling military trade secrets and keeping classified files classified and only within the contents of the licensed computers.

You keep to yourself, most of the tech drones aren't known for being the most social, but even by their standards you're a shut in, alot of them find you off-putting,, and awkward to make conversation with, but that's ok! you like working alone, by yourself, in your own space.,.. and truth is you hate the majority of the people you work with anyway.

Most of your co-workers absolutely adore the 141, would lick the dirt off their boots of they asked, they're seen as heros, and you're just about done with most of the men you work with claiming they could've joined that taskforce if they didn't break their knee when they were 15, you're actually two seconds from breaking their neck.... but you have to keep yourself in check...

''You don't believe me?''

''You take 25 minutes to recover from walking up two flights of stairs Peter, so I think you should focus on what you're barely good at, which is this job.''

''Woah.. ok damn''

You could care less for the group, were they impressive? yes, from the missions and files that you have access to, their stats and skills were something to gawk at, something to admire, but, the admiration slowly fades when the one by the name of Soap brings his disgusting laptop with sticky keys to you, claiming it has a virus talking about about ''the Russians hacking it''

''I- dinnae mean ta bother- its just been- freak'n out on me and i dinnae know what's happenin with it- d'ya think it's the Russians?''

''erm.... I don't think so..''

The admiration completely disappears when you dig deeper into the laptop and find the various porn sites your dear ''Hero'' Soap had been spending hours on, not to judge, everyone enjoys a bit of porn from time to time, but the fact that its on an actual tactical laptop, military property, that you now have to see, and you now have to confront what the soldier was into.

From ''Masked Military Men'' to ''Office Secretary'' ''Military Captain Punishe- you get the fucking gist. AND! the list goes on, youre pretty sure that the entire taskforce is fucking by the end of your sweep,,,, and it only confirms it when you discover a file that was taking up far too much space.

Soap had actually been complaining about the device running slow too, so you decided to take a look, before deleting the file, incase it was something important...

Jesus fucking christ you should not have, you actually should've thrown the computer at his head when he brought it to you, you should've actually just never signed up for this job and kept with your previous one,,, even if it was quite,,,, dangerous

The file contained 100s and 100s of videos of the 141... together... getting it on..doing the sideways tango? fornicatin- ok they were fucking. They were fucking RAW and NASTY, and you're so sure one of the videos contained a leash, ears, muzzle and a tail, but you clicked off before you ruin your eyes any further.

Now now- before the reader starts squinting, you weren't judging the taskforce for getting it on with eachother, frankly it was none of your business, you weren't disgusted, just,, uncomfortable, you've never met these men- properly, yet you've seen their dick and balls.... you're allowed to feel a little weird, that and- Soap had trusted you to remove a virus, not go snooping into his computer files, you felt as if you had overstepped, even if he was a shameless sex fiend by the amount of porn he consumed- you still felt as if you'd pushed into his laptop too far,, now,, what to do,,,

Do you: A: Let him know that you have seen the videos of him and his taskforce, and apologise to all hell and hopes he doesn't murder you,, or worse- report you to HR....is there a HR in the military...? B: Remind him that this is military property and should not be treated as a personal possession, kind of hinting at the fact that you saw.. something.....?

or C: Pretend you saw nothing and give the device back to him, and just hope and pray you never see him walking around again,, maybe pray that you never see his taskforce wondering the building,, you cannot look them all in the face knowing that you've seen them,,, in their birthday suits lets just say.

....SO- we all agree on C? Good because that's what you end up doing

You find Soap the next day, shove the computer into his hands and hope to god he never needs your help again.

He thanks you, but not before you scurry away to your cave (desk) and hope he doesn't remember where it is.

''Soap-.. Laptop.''

'Ye fixed it!? Thank fuck- it wasn't-''

''No Russians.''

''ahhh, whateve'r it was, thank ye mate''

''mhm.....welcome''

Now, to clear something up, your perception of him isn't ruined by some porn you found on his laptop, for fucks sake you had castrated a man before- oh.......uhhh,,, i mean,,,,,, you've,,, youv'e seen worse.... dark web stuff...Yeah!!! Dark web stuff!

ANYWAY. You didn't judge him, truly, he was still an ok dude, you just never had a taste for the taskforce, never really shared the weird admiration others had for them, and now with , it would just be weird if you adored them as much...

You hoped he didn't take your cold shoulder to heart, and hoped that some of your coworkers would sooner label you as a weirdo introvert so he doesn't take too much offense at your avoidance of him.

You felt a little guilty everytime you saw his smile drop when you didn't wave back at him, or nod at him when he walked past, but- your awkwardness was not enough to deter him, the man was like a damned puppy, he was just too friendly, he just wanted to see you smile at him once..

SO- what did you resort to? Being rude and standoffish,, and no you weren't proud of yourself, from the death glares to the snappiness when he greeted you, his friendly nature slowly faded as he realised day by day that you were NOT going to be his friend, in another life you may have gotten along, maybe you'd have the courage to actually tell him about what you found....

''Aye! Yo! Bon! How're-''

''I'm busy.''

'oh,,,uh- sorr-''

''its fine just,, quit botherin me''

But with your past and the weird barrier you had put infront of the taskforce, you stayed away, pushed him away..

you needed to keep him away, the closer he got, the more danger you could be in,, you could be exposed,,,, or were you just paranoid? being a murde- UHHH doing SOMETHING not so legal will make you that way...

The more upset Soap was, the more eyes you could feel drilling into the back of your skull.. 141 did not take kindly to you being so.... hostile towards their,,, teammate? boyfriend????? LOVER?? HUSBAN-ok lets not get too ahead of ourselves.

But you just couldn't face them ... you saw their penises,,,,,,, yeah no you cant.

From the glares to ''accidentally'' bumping you in the halls and your lunch going missing, you had started a petty office war with the taskforce,, which was hilarious because,,,, these are trained military men- bullying(?) you in work because you made their boyfriend sad.

he even thought they were being a little.. much

''Don't ye think yer being,,, alot?''

''Nah,,, they were being a bitch.''

''ah....''

Admiration for the men? They'd be lucky if you even had a good word to say about them fucking childishimmatureassholeswhoarefuckingeacotherfuckingbitchesughyouhatethemsomuch

Ok calm down you're lowkey going crazy... you are kind of insane, but PLEASE lets try to function like a normal person and ignore these fully grown men acting like school girls... lets focus on your job!!! Please before you go back to your previous one..... for the love of god please stay focused

You do not need friends in here, you need to make sure that people aren't stealing military data, you don't need the taskforce to appreciate the work you do, you don't need to make friends in your workplace, you don't need to eat your lunch with people or stand by the water cooler and gossip you don't need your coworkers to invite you out for drinks at the weekend

You're fully booked,,,, and by fully booked I mean you either have an ,,,,, ''target'' or you're going to rot away at home, bottle in hand while you find dirt on everyone in your personal life for shits and giggles, hey! Peter is cheating on his wife!.... if he pisses you off you should call her- .....maybe- or you could use it when you needed it.

As time went on, 141 slowly got bored of inconveniencing you, thinking you got the memo,, they still didn't like you,, and still glare at you- but hey! your lunch is still where you put it!

The whole ordeal is over, I mean, you're a little more hated in the office than you once were but, that means less people bothering you, and less people in your personal space trying to get you to ''open up''

You are officially alone, you dodged the bullet that is soaps friendship and you can just.. relax... until you realise the sites that your not friend has visited, and you slowly figure with at the rate he consumes porn he will find himself with another virus in his laptop... and he's going to go to one of your coworkers and ask them to fix it since you have proven to not be up for the task again...

Theyre gonna see,,,, oh- oh no the files, the videos,,, the search history-

''aye- Peter-- ' think there's somethin' wrong with me laptop''

oh fuck.

[nobodyinfart]

Kyle being your older brother's childhood friend that he enlisted in the military with. and ends up being the bane of your boyfriend's existence because your family won't stop talking about perfect he is, how you used to have a massive crush on him when you were just a little girl, how you and Kyle look so cute running errands together (your mom and his parents actively forcing you to spend time with him), how he treats you so well. which sucks for your boyfriend because your family doesn't like him very much compared to how they worship the ground Kyle walks on.

Kyle being even more of a nuisance to your boyfriend by holding your waist and kissing your cheek in front of everyone and making you laugh every chance he gets. if your boyfriend is brave enough to confront him in secret about how he's not being slick by trying to take you away, Kyle will look him dead in the eye and say, "and? what? gonna cry about it? wait till she's all mine, then i'll give you something to cry about."

something something you confront Kyle after your boyfriend tells you what he said. something something Kyle proving that he's the better man, that he's always been meant for you and you for him. that "it's inevitable, regardless of how much you deny it, love" while he's got you backed up against the door of your childhood room and he's so close to you, his nose touches yours and he looks like he wants to kiss you and finally make you his like the gods intended—