starluv

[starluv]

unplanned creampies could be more fun than deliberate ones i think.

the wet wrap of your walls seize him whole, and gaz can no longer hold back. slurred apologies slip from the cracks of his teeth, his hips unrelenting as he fucks you—pulling almost all the way out before bullying his cock back in you.

your tits are so sensitive, nipples throbbing angrily with how much they’ve been nipped and sucked on, and gaz feels drunk as he watches the way they jostle every time he fucks you.

you’re a sight to behold; your pussy so good it has him going cross-eyed. so his orgasm hits him hard.

he feels it bloat, of course, peaking from the base of his spine and sliding along his synapses like molten lava. it’s dizzying. electric.

“pull out—” you whimper, clawing his back. “kyle, please—”

“can’t,” gaz snarls back, his breaths running ragged. sharp. “s’too good, can’t pull out—sorry. m’sorry—”

you feel the final thrust in, the way his cock splits your walls, nestling deep, nuzzling far. your scream is torn from the base of your throat, scratching, burning.

the first spurt was…

it was delicious.

[starluv]

the 141's reactions to you shaving/waxing your bush

Price: doesn't really mind either way. whatever makes you more comfortable, love. a grown man can handle whatever you have down there in terms of hair or not.

Gaz: is surprised. makes sure to let you know that if you shaved/waxed because you thought he would like it more, it wasn't necessary. but if you did it for yourself, then that's cool too. just wanted to make sure, babe.

Ghost: doesn't react at all. and if you press him for a reaction/ask him what he thinks, he says something about the table dressings not being as important as the meal. cunt is cunt and dick is dick, and brother he's here to eat, not talk.

Soap: 🫨 WHAT HAEVE YE DON TO EM?!?! 🥹🥹🥹 YER NAEKID AS A BAIRN, BONNIE. 😭😭😭 HOW COULD YE DO THIS TO MY SWEET LAD/LASS?????? 😭😭😭

[starluv]

also, lately i been really into pairing soap with the filthiest most horny sluts imaginable. people who don’t only match his freak but someone make it worse. enable him by planting themselves on his cock every morning while he’s half asleep and going at it until they either die from dehydration or milk themselves dry. no one sees him for days at a time because he finally has someone willing to try all those nasty ass fantasies and impossible poses he’s been waiting to do his whole life. just a horrible influence all around; especially with how eternally tempting they are, constantly naked and willing no matter how many times they’ve cum that day. holes always full and body never clean and hair never neat and skin never unmarked.. etc

[starluv]

porn link

this is truly how i imagine simon to fuck you. a heavy hand smothering your moans; his hips punching his cock in, measured strokes hitting deep; dragging his hands along your body, feeling it underneath his touch; before tugging you closer to him, positioning you in the easiest way for him to fuck into. but, most of all, the silence from his end—a hunter. an apex predator.

your whole body shakes, pain and pleasure still mixing because it is all so overwhelming. so daunting. simon fucks you like a man starved; like your body is nothing but for him to use.

[starluv]

18+ MDNI

simon has told you countless times before that civilian life is tough for him. every time he comes back home from deployment, there's a tension in him that's hard to soothe. as rough as military life was, it gave him a purpose, made him feel like everything he did—down to the food he ate��was for something. it's not like that back home.

he doesn't like to sit around and do nothing all day. and you've told him that he owes it to himself to relax, to just sit down and enjoy the mundane. that's what being home is for, you'd remind him. but it's hard for him.

you've found it's a little easier for him to relax if you're doing it with him. so you'll invite him to watch whatever you've got on the tv, or ask if he wants to take a midday nap together. it gradually gets easier over time. he resists less each time you ask.

but you don't fail to notice how much he fidgets, like his very being is uncomfortable with sitting still unless it's for work. he's always moving somehow, fingers itching to do something.

the solution he came up with? he's got his hands on you whenever possible. it's easiest to relax when you're moaning in his ear.

even now, when there's a movie playing on the tv in front of you, simon has you sat on his lap with your legs spread in front of the screen. his head rests in the crook of your neck, peppering kisses on your jaw, and he's still able to keep his eyes on the screen so you don't scold him about 'not paying attention' later.

of course, it's not like you're paying attention either. hard to when he's got two of his thick fingers knuckle-deep inside your slick cunt. he pumps in and out at a steady pace that has your toes curling and your head falling back against his shoulder. the wet squelches that sound out every time he pushes in and curls his fingers is more enticing than the people on the screen, anyway.

"gotta take care of my girl," he'd coo in your ear. his fingers slide out and up to your swollen clit. he presses gentle circles around it before patting your sensitive skin with just enough force to make you squirm. "and gotta make sure she's gettin' enough attention, too, huh?"

right now, his only focus was on making you cum hard. he knew that angle to take to make sure his fingers hit deep inside, making your back arch off of his chest. your slick walls hugging and pulsing around his thick digits until you're squeezing tight and flooding his hand with your cum.

"that's it, baby," he groans, panting with you like he'd cum in his pants from just the sight of you. his fingers spread you open, sliding through the obscene slickness. "such a pretty fuckin' sight."

regardless how much you mewl and moan and whine, he doesn't stop until you're shaking, until you can't give him any more. but when that happens, he moves his hands off of you, letting you get comfortable so you can doze off with your head in his chest while he rubs your back in soothing strokes.

[starluv]

Traitors among us

Simon 'GHOST' Riley x Fem!Reader Task Force 141 x Fem!Reader (Platonic)

Summary: You're a rat, a traitor. At least that's what Task Force 141 believes due to the evidence and claims scattered against you. It doesn't matter what you say, everyone's against you, ready to end you for it...until the truth comes out.

Warning(s): Torture, Heavy Angst, etc.

If you liked this would you Buy my a Coffee?

---

Drip.

Drip..

Drip...

Your shoulders seize up involuntarily as freezing droplets continue to hit your skin, eyes squeezed shut to try to ignore the sound that had been going on for who knows how long.

Another drop of water hits your spine from the faucet placed above you, it's cold as it runs down your bare skin. It feels like ice. Hitting the same spot over and over and over...

Drip...

Not even able to take a deep breath, you release a strained cry, it can hardly leave you, not that you hadn't cried enough already. You could feel the dried blood, tears and snot still on your face and a testament to your torment. You haven't been able to get the metallic taste of your blood of of your mouth since you got in here.

You breathe slowly, trying to relieve the pain in your chest. Body positioned downwards, chest pressed down to your knees, a leather buckle holds you down and over a metal stool. Wrists torn open by old shackles and stretched upwards to connect to the steel pipe in the middle of the room.

The stress position had been Johnny's idea, putting you in it to begin with. The bastard...

Kyle had been in and out to collaborate with Price on the interrogation, he didn't have the heart to do you any harm like his Captain. But, that didn't stop him from stomaching your screams as he turned the handle up, piercing cold crashing down atop you, it beats down on your back, by the time it's done your shaking, and your skin a bruising purple hue. It goes on like that for hours, even as you beg. He reads you the files again.

Price would then take the baton from the corner of the room, the side of your face already swollen from the last strike, you were seeing red out of your left eye and soon you wouldn't be able to see out of it if the swelling continued.

"Please..." you shivered, miserably.

"Over in a jiff, love, but i need somethin' from you, you know that." Was his reply, he tapped the baton against the metal below you, the reverb makes you jump each time, leaving you to stare at it as you watched his boots walk around you.

"Cap'n, It's not...It's not--me..." you tried, breathless. "I'd never.."

The steel baton came down on your shoulder, first. There was an immediate response from your constricted muscles, limbs that had all tensed up at once despite their numbness. Pulling at the shackles that kept you in place, the hit shocks you, nearly silencing you completely, it hurts, then it burns. Mouth open in a silent scream, you squeeze your eyes shut in an effort to block out the pain that crawled through your shoulder. "It's not me!"

You've been suffering from hypothermia for a few days since then. Your shoulder crushed right out of place or just plain broken, you weren't sure. It's not like you could feel much of your arms in this position.

It hurt. Not just the painful strain that this position was currently putting on your muscles, but everything else...

Of course, you've handled torture alike this before. Captured and tortured by enemies, ransomed for pay and fought tooth and nail to live, then found your way from that hell...only for the men who you'd kill for, to do the same thing to you with no remorse.

In the quiet of the empty room, you sobbed in agony. Squeezing your fists, but you couldn't even feel them, as far as you knew your fingers could only twitch in response to your demand.

You weren't sure what you were doing here.

Well, you knew. There was a mole, all evidence pointing to you, whatever it was had completely stunted their mission earlier in the week, left them hiding in a safe house for days until they were picked up by evac. Apparently, you'd leaked mission details to some hostiles over seas, you weren't sure which ones, they were hoping you could tell them. You had absolutely nothing, lost.

Of course, they didn't believe you. Although you expected to have at least a sliver of trust, someone to speak up against these claims and believe you...

It must've been too much to ask.

It came out of nowhere, at first you had been in bed with Simon, your fucking Fiancé, then that meeting with Price, then just...they'd cornered you in that room. Knocked you out without even an explanation, woke you up strapped down, confused, stripped of your uniform and feral as you demanded answers. Nobody listened to you.

That first night you thought you were gonna die. The second night you thought you had. The third night you were just convinced this was your hell.

You were soaked to the bone, and unable to stop shivering. The only sound you could hear was your own chattering teeth in this never-ending void of darkness.

It was so fucking dark in here, your eyes darting around to every corner, hoping for even a measly crack of light that your eyes could adjust to. Every sound, scratch, scrape or click made you jump, you couldn't see shit in here, so just about everything made you hyper aware. You couldn't help your anxiety as the sound of the faucet, the constant drops against your spine, the jingle of your shackles and the whimpers that echoed against the walls as you struggled to comfortably breathe. Maybe it was the thought of a mouse crawling up the stool and along your skin, or someone in here just staring at you in the corner, or the door finally opening for Price to start slicing into you demanding answers you didn't have.

You were on the cusp of losing your mind. If you hadn't already.

But it's been a few hours since then...

Maybe even a few days...

It could even have been a week.

You weren't too sure.

Simon had been the last one in here. He'd pulled the strap loose around your neck, hauling you up to an upright position by your jaw, eliciting a whimper from your lips. Able to breathe a bit easier, your lungs finally decompressing and you gulp down air greedily, "Simon..." this had been the first time you'd seen him since. He wears his balaclava, he is Ghost, not your Simon Riley.

As your bloodshot, swollen eyes raise to look into his cold ones, so unfeeling. You hadn't even realized you were so hopeful for his trust in you until then, looking at you like you were absolutely nothing to him, the same look he always had before pulling the trigger. "Simon, please, stop this..." your words slurred by your shivering, exhausted. "You know me...please."

Your tears slide over the leather of his gloved hands, while he holds tight to your face and cuts your pleads short with a painful squeeze. "Shut up," he says. His eyes are blank, but his voice is low and seething. "Shut the fuck up!" Simon harshly grits out to you, jostling you harshly. You squeeze your eyes shut, weeping miserably, throat closing up to your agony.

He had to know that you would've never done this to him. He should've known that. Given you the benefit of the doubt at least. You'd have never done this to him...

"I'm sorr-" you try, he squeezes harder to silence you swiftly, and snatches a tiny bowl off the tray he'd brought in. Raising your jaw a bit higher, he pours down a chunky broth into your mouth, letting it all just fall down to your throat. It's disgusting. He doesn't ease up for even a second as you toss and turn your head to breathe.

"Don't say a fucking word," he seethes, his hand enveloping your neck and keeping your head raised upward. "As if I should believe you..."

He then takes the next cup to do the same, your eyes bloodshot wide and you jerk away from him as you choke, unable to stomach anything, but he doesn't let you. This time you inhale accidentally, blocking your airway, eyes watering as you writhe for oxygen, your shackles clang violently as you attempt to retaliate, the first fight you've put up in days. His grip doesn't let up, even as you struggle and start to vomit up whatever he decided to shove down your throat.

When he finally lets go, you curve over and heave up whatever's left in your mouth, hyperventilating as you empty your guts on the floor. Hacking up whatever you can, it hurts, your throat burning from the sobs that leave you in between coughs. "If you love me, if you--ever had--" there was a rule in training, to let enemies that it was working, that their torture had taken its toll. You were always a rule breaker... this was no different apparently. "You would fucking believe me!" your voice cracks with the effort it takes to scream at him, to curse him to hell.

"My trust? That's what you want," Hollow eyes stare back at you, his attention flickering around to the uncomfortable shift of your shoulders in those cuffs. Your swollen left eye that had been hit so hard, the white of it had filled with blood. The black and blue littering your sides and your spine, the loss of color in your skin from the stress position and the cold that had you uncontrollably shivering. "You've had it before. You must've sold that to them too."

Your head drops to the stool again, releasing a heavy breath. "It wasn't worth much, if it was so easy to lose..."

Usually it's not very easy to set Simon off, you've known him always to be quite mellow, besides the barely concealed rage he had settled in his chest since you've known him. But, today, you were an exception.

Fisting a hand in your hair, Simon yanks at it, pulling you upwards for your to face him. His other hand coming up to wrap around your throat before your tortured scream can even manifest. In that moment, it feels as if he'd snapped your spine in half, having not used the muscles to stretch that area in over a week. Your shackled wrists shifting in the cruel position.

His eyes are wild and rageful, the balaclava that covers him twists just the same, his grip very telling to his violence as he squeezes down any chance at air or even a sentence. "Easy to lose..." he repeats, spitting in your face as he strangles you. "Easy t'lose your life! If you don't tell me the fucking truth," he pulls out the knife you'd seen him slit so many throats with before, you hear the familiar sound of it first then its cold steel pressing into the side of your ribs. "I'm gonna carve out your heart, and I'll take it real slow, let you feel every little thing I do to you in here," he shakes you harshly as a startled cry escapes you, your tears are burning hot against your cheeks. "You don't get to cry. Or whine. Or beg!"

"Stop--" you try to squirm away from him, to get as far away as possible, from this place, from this moment.

"Just tell me the truth," Simon's face twisted in agony, for just a second, his thumb drags along your jaw, meaningfully. "You'd be doing us both a favor..."

As his vast hand finally loosed around your neck just enough to hold you up, awaiting the bitter truth. Simon's knife catches on the protrusion of your ribs, nicking the skin, drawing blood on purpose. You stare up at the ceiling, the flickering old lights, the dripping faucet that's tormented your already fragile state for weeks now. "The truth..." you spoke, hoarsely. "You've all shown me...it doesn't matter to you. If it ever... Believe what you want--" you close your eyes, you're exhausted. Sleep had evaded you for days. "You and your truth and this team, you can all go to hell."

And finally he lets you go, letting your fall forwards, unable to find the relief of a cold floor but back to the strenuous position you'd been placed in. "AH!" nearly popping your shoulders out of place, or maybe they had, you bite down on your tongue, shaking in silence.

If you could see Simon's face, you could've relished in the uncertainty flickering in his eyes, the sudden doubt that led his knife back in its holder and his nails to bite into the flesh of his palms. He opens his mouth to say something, but nothing leaves him, instead he stands there.

You can't say a thing to him now, everything that's happened was just a little reminder that whatever you said, whatever you did, it didn't matter. Their minds had already been made. You really would die here.

Simon stands there a little longer, he doesn't say anything, you're not sure if he stays there to watch your suffering a little longer or to wait to say another heart-wrenching thing. Maybe he's just there to wait for you to die. But, he just watches as you wretch and cry in a ball atop that stool.

He leaves not long after, he didn't bother to strap you down this time. He left the old light on, but it must've been older than you thought.

The single bulb fizzled out completely hours ago. Not unless one of them decided to cut the silence and turn on the light to start another 'questioning', so suddenly being able to see more than darkness wasn't anything to be excited about.

They'd leave you in the dark until then, to await the next moment any of them would grace you with their presence.

To be honest, you'd imagined you'd be stronger than this. But, there was nothing to hold onto, so what did strength matter?

It was too late anyway.

They'd broken you days ago.

---

The truth had come out, two days later.

"Oh god..."

"Oh my fucking God," Simon rushed down the corridor, Price tailing right behind him. "Oh my God!" his normal monotone voice now a mess of fear and panic, breathing harsher, on the cusp of hyperventilating with every stride as he ran faster than he ever had in his life.

Finally getting to the interrogation wing of the department, he bangs his fist on the plexiglass of those silently monitoring the rooms, "Open the fucking door!" he's buzzed in before he can pull on the handle another time.

Rushing down the hall to the now green lit room, lights flickering to life with every step closer down the hall of empty rooms. He nearly rips the door off its hinges as he bursts inside, the lights of the your tiny prison don't come to life as they should. Light spilling into the cell, to hit your limp figure first.

He doesn't deserve to say your name. "(Y/n)," Simon rushes over, to his knees instantly. A puddle of vomit, water and spoiled broth soaks through his uniform.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry," he sobs out his mistakes, unhooking your chains and cutting through your buckles as fast as he could. "Oh my god, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry!" he catches his fiancé as you collapse, turning over and off the stool, your legs having lost all sense of feeling. You fall into his arms, catching you carefully. "Price!" he cries out, desperately.

"They're on the way!" Your captain assures, he sees the medical team rushing down the hallway, a stretcher, a box of medical supplies. Christ.

You're freezing to the touch, your skin a hue of blue, not to mention the bruises, the cuts and the swollen areas throughout your face and spine. You suddenly inhale, sharply, coughing terribly. You're sick, breathing shakily, "Simon...?" you breathe, confused. You can't see. Your eyes swollen shut from your torture at their hands.

"It's me, it's me," Simon assured, although he knew it probably brought you no comfort. He snatches the blanket offered up by Price, your captain a mess of himself, holding himself together at the doorway, nails biting into the steel.

As Simon wraps you in the first glimpse of warmth you've had in days, you ease up a bit, fingers twitching upwards to pull the threads closer around yourself. "It wasn't..." you shiver, Simon listens intently as he rises with you in his arms, running off to meet the medical team halfway. "It wasn't me..." you gasp out. "It wasn't..."

Simon can't say a thing as he hears your tormented voice stutter in fear of him, lips pressed tight together, heart sinking and as the nurses take your body, he collapses to his knees.

part 2 coming soon...

[starluv]

simon riley would be playing airplane and running around the house with his daughter perched on his shoulders and then get distracted, probably by your pretty voice coming from another room asking for his help. he comes to your aid, as always, but ends up so fixated on finding you that he forgets to duck through the doorway and your kiddo wounds up with a wall to the face, doorframe bonking her in the brow hard, the little thud echoing through the room.

you gasp, dropping everything you’ve got in your hands to join simon in cradling her with endless sympathy and ‘sorry’s, smoothing over the little red mark appearing quickly on her skin.

and, oh, he feels guilty. like, painfully so. this is worse than any war crimes he’s committed, by far.

he’ll break the geneva conventions a thousand times over before even daring to put a single scratch on his precious family.

but your little girl doesn’t cry, at all. not even for a second.

all giggles and smiles as she rubs her forehead and exclaims faux disappointment in her daddy, and simon takes so much pride in that. claiming he only raises tough girls, you included as he’s ruffling your hair. you kiss both their cheeks and hum in agreement, opting not to suggest that maybe she’s like this because the exact same thing has happened more times than you can count, to a t.

[starluv]

simon scrunches his nose at you when you call him sweet. rolls his eyes and grumbles something about being the complete opposite, but secretly loves hearing you say it.

likes when you give a little bit of attitude. will either firmly but gently remind you who’s in charge, smirking down at you as he lightly squeezes his grip on you, or will let you mouth off with no reaction other than the muscles in his jaw twitching. the latter is when you know you're in real trouble

will shoot straight up in bed at any odd noise, no matter how deep into sleep he is. simon knows every noise this house makes – the branch that rubs the roof in that one spot, the wind chimes that sometimes hit the side of the house from where they hang. has fallen victim to the neighborhood raccoons more than once, throwing open the back door to nothing but small masked faces and glowing eyes

he couldn’t give less of a shit about traveling. does it enough for work so when he finally does have time off he basically pulls the doormat in behind him, going into ‘hibernation’ as johnny calls it.

wears plaid pajama pants, his favorite pair is gray and black

refuses to let you answer the door if you're not expecting company. most of the time it’s just johnny, who’s found that just showing up unannounced works out better than asking if he can come over

wants to fix everything himself and is pretty handy, but calls price for advice if he needs expertise

constantly needs to be reminded to relax his forehead, unclench his jaw, etc,

will drop everything for a shoulder massage. loves when you sit behind him and rub away the knots in his muscles, groaning at the way your fingertips ease the aches.

on that same note, back scratches can literally put him to sleep. your fingernails lightly scratching at the skin send goosebumps across his body and you’ll be telling him about your day when all of a sudden you hear a loud snore

literally no way to threaten this man. just blinks at you like you asked about the weather

“I’m going to kill you, riley.” “yeah? how would you do it?”

will not go to sleep until you're home with him. every time you go out with friends you return to simon on the living room couch, ready to lumber down the hall after you like a sleepy bear.

“about time, dirty stay out.” “its not even eleven o’clock yet!” “doesn’t matter. y’should be in bed with me.”

[starluv]

fem!reader

price, simon, kyle, johnny being possessive but not in the way that you think

they love it when everyone knows they’re yours sure they love it when people refer to you as their wife or their girl but they love it 10x more when they hear someone refer to them as your husband or your boy.

they love it when they smell like you, when they have a little bit of a lipstick mark from you anywhere on their face. they especially love it when they’re training the new recruits and it’s hot so they take off their shirt and everyone is forced to look at the hickeys and bites and scratches all over their body

if any of them have piercings they’ll steal your earrings or they’ll steal one of you favorite necklaces you wear all the time and wear it as a bracelet cause it’s too tight for their necks. they love it when they get to brag about how amazing their wife is and her accomplishments whether that’s finding the energy tog e tout of bed or a new promotion at work.

they steal your scrunchies and your lotions and perfumes did i mention that they love to smell just like you? ya they absolutely have abandoned their own shampoos and body washes for yours. theirs just sits taking up space in the shower

price and simon have definitely walked around base with your pussy juice on their beard/mask cause they love to let people know that they know exactly how to take care of their darling girl

[starluv]

DREAM BLUNT ROTATION ft. HIGHAF!POLY141

Synopsis: Silly 141 getting high with reluctant but experienced reader, happy belated 420 yall

Warning(s): Drug Use, Poly!141, AFAB!Reader, Sexually Suggestive?? Barely Proofread (i'm dyslexic sorry)

"This is an awful idea..."

Kyle's tone is halting as he observes the way, Johnny begins to pick apart the large bud of weed and spreads it out on the rolling papers that Simon purchased not too long ago. Simon wouldn't say where he pawned off the necessary ingredients for a good blunt, and neither he nor Johnny were going to ask.

"Don't be such a wet blanket, Kyle." Simon quips at the uneasy Sergeant.

Johnny snorts as he brushes off the stickiness of the bud and the aroma is rich, sweet, and pungent as it fills the Lieutenant's dorm. If they received any disciplinary action, Simon would take the fall (which was mighty presumptuous of him being that all the resin glands were on Johnny's fingertips, but they digress).

"Ease off on him, L.t.. He's the teacher's pet amongst us, like." Johnny winks at Kyle.

Kyle's face contorts in disgust and betrayal. "Piss off, MacTavish."

This sends the troublesome pair into a fit of giggles, but suddenly the door opens and they're all jostled by the new company. You freeze as you look at the three bozos lounging around in Simon's room. Crushed-up cans and empty bottles of ale were tossed around the room, half a eaten pizza left out on the coffee table where Johnny was busy rolling up a joint.

"Jesus fuckin' Christ," Your tone is exasperated and beyond wanting to comprehend why in the entire fuck they were deciding to roll up in the Lieutenant's room.

"Why." It wasn't even a question. You really just demanded an answer at this point.

"I didn't—" Kyle is the first to open his mouth, but you close your eyes and hold your hand up to stop him. You shake your head and then sharply exhale as you shut the door behind you.

"Good girl." Simon sarcastically praises as you wordlessly sit next to Kyle.

Johnny giggles at the way your cheeks puff up in embarrassment as you tuck in your legs and lean comfortably to the side.

"Fuck you." You spat at him. "I could have you reported."

"Under what jurisdiction?"

You sit there with a disgruntled expression on your face and you're aware of the smug look that hides behind his stupid balaclava-clad face. Johnny isn't even high yet, but he's giggling like a maniac at everything Simon says. It's the thrill of getting caught red-handed with contraband and bloodshot eyes that makes him lightheaded and giddy. Not that they were bound by any real-world laws or regulations because the 141 operated outside the chain of command, but Price finding out would certainly be a damper in their mood.

But your frown turns into an evil simper. "I'll tell, Price."

And the mood drops for a moment, but Simon loves to challenge you. It's practically etched into his DNA to rile you up in any way he can.

"Go ahead, ducky."

"Don't call me that."

And Simon's hit a nerve, but that all seems to dissipate as soon as Johnny places the rolled-up joint between his lips and sparks up. The first sweet inhale relaxes every rigid nerve in the Scotsman's body as he passes it off to his Lieutenant and leans against the wall. Simon lifts his mask and your jaw ticks at his exposed flesh. His lips are a pretty pink that wraps around the spliff, before toking the absolute fuck out of it and holding it in before exhaling it out through his nose.

The pair exchange a look before nodding and grinning at each other. "Tha's good shit, maaate."

"C'mon, Kyle." Simon coos, beckoning him over. Kyle moves ever so slightly in his direction, but your hand grasps his wrists halting him back.

"Oh, come now, [name]. Don' be uptight. 's all good vibes round 'ere." The masked idiot smirks at you before passing it off. Kyle glances over at your disapproving stare before hesitantly taking a hit. It doesn't even take a second before he's coughing his lungs out and Simon and Johnny are cackling, keeling over on the tiny bunk. You think it may break under their weight at any given moment, but that's just wishful thinking.

"That's not how you do it, Kyle." You chide, seizing the joint from him and you're drawing in the smoke yourself as you demonstrate the proper way of inhaling it. Simon and Johnny go silent as they observe you clearly very shocked by your sudden volunteer.

"Gotta hold it properly." You bring the joint to your lips, comfortably positioning it between your fingers. "Don't inhale too quickly, or you'll cough your lungs out like you did just now. Take your time and hold it before releasing it, slowly." You indicate to him once more and the THC unravels months of built-up tension embedded in your body now that you got a proper hit.

You peer down at the spliff as you exhale the smoke. "Damn, that's good shit. Where did you twats get this?" Chuckling a bit at your usage of their own slang on them.

"Though' we were pourin' poison in the well, but the water is already spiked, it seems." Simon is lying back against the wall, propped up on his elbow with one leg flat and the other is bolstered up. He's relaxed as hell, surveying you like a cat as his tail swishes around with piquing interest. And Johnny is like his orange cat counterpart, licking his paws and rubbing his head as they lounge together on cloud nine.

"Mmm, she's always been like that. Naughty lassie." Johnny teases as he moves closer to you. He's sitting on your right as he eyes the way Kyle successfully follows your directions.

"Aye, tha's a good lad." Johnny praises, rubbing his thigh and Kyle is blinking up at him with hazy, honeyed eyes.

And for some reason you're taking offense to that. "Hey what about me?" You pout at him.

And he's beaming when his baby blues flicker to you. Calloused palm flattening against the expanse of your exposed flesh, riddling your thigh with gooseberries. There is a slight snatch in your breath as he caresses you but you don't move away and it's quickly starting to feel a little heavy as you feel everyone's eyes on you.

But before your body can even react, the door is getting barged into and there stands a very irate Price who literally looks like steam is pouring out of his ears. And just when you think that you're all about to get your asses handed to you, Price plucks the spliff from Kyle's fingers, opens the window and everyone is clamoring to rise from their seats thinking that he's going to toss it out. But you're all dead wrong.

My mans is taking the biggest puff out of all four of you before he jovially steeps the smoke out of his nostrils and he's nodding in approval, "Aye, tha's good shit."

There's a collective sigh of relief that settles upon the 141 before Simon speaks.

"Christ, Boss, least warn us."

"Thought y' were gonna bite o'r heads off." Johnny leans against the window sill, left of his Captain.

Price chuckles as he takes another brief toke before passing it off to Simon who was on his right.

"I should've, you lot were gonna finish it before I even got a toke."

Simon gazes over at you from where he's posted, inhaling the last few hits of the blunt, but you and Kyle are fucking zooted. I'm talkin heads rolled back against the couch cushions and you're gone.

And he is choking on the smoke as he laughs at the both of you before Johnny and Price glance over and join him. Their giggles attract your hazy attention and you lazily toss a pillow at the back of Johnny's head. But then you're cowering away as he approaches you in a jokingly menacing manner, wrapping his arms around you like he's about to perform a tickle attack.

The sound of your stomach growling rips through the silliness and he pouts at you and rubs your belly.

"You hungry, ducky?" Price is towering over you from behind the couch you are situated at, tucking the stray hairs behind your ear and you feel your cheeks warming up at your Captain's sedative voice.

You nod at him with a giddy smile, and before Price even opens his mouth Kyle is pulling up his Uber Eats app to order everyone's go-to Chinese take-out meals.

And as Price is extolling his Sergeant by lightly massaging his shoulders, Simon is taking your chin between his fingers and tilting his head at you.

"Y'got everyone at y'r beck an' call, ducky." But the nickname no longer has its previous bitterness. It's replaced with endearment as he pinches your cheek and that draws out a smile from you.

"Didn' know ye were s'experienced." Johnny's warm breath fans over your neck and you're starting to feel a buzz that's reminiscent of your uni days.

You hum in response as you feel Price's fingers gently scratch at your scalp, and there's a gentle euphoria that warms you to your bones.

"Quit yappin' her ear off." Price scolds the two, but something about the way you're being simultaneously taunted and dotted over is starting to ignite a bit of desire within you.

You shut your eyes and all your senses feel elevated as you're being coddled on all sides. And as much as Simon loves getting under your skin, there is something about the way you're blissfully sitting there not having a care in the world as everyone trills around you.

"Like a kitten." He warbles, caressing your cheek and you lean into his touch.

"A very cute kitten." Johnny nuzzles his nose into the crook of your neck as his fingers brush against your knee. A giggle leaves your lips and you're squirming away from his ticklish stubble.

But every way you're moving, you're in the hands of a different man who's relishing in your coquettish behavior. It's overstimulating really. So, the minute you hear wrapping at the front door you're jumping out of your seat to check out who's behind the peephole.

But it feels like a slo-mo scene as you're running away from the giggly, dazed men who follow closely behind you. By the time you're reaching the door, Johnny has already tripped over the end table, Simon is heaving for air and slipping over the barstools in the kitchen in a loud clatter, Price is attempting to help them both up but can't stop laughing his ass off and Kyle, well, mans is passed out on the couch with his mouth wide open.

You can hardly even contain yourself as you open the door, and the delivery man on the other side is flummoxed yet amused at the men in the background and then there was you. Giddy as hell, palms facing up with the most bloodshot eyes.

And before he can even get a word out, Johnny is wrapping his arms around your waist and carrying you back to the couch while Price is sending him off with a wad of cash as he grabs the food.

"Chattin' up the delivery lads, aye?" Johnny teases, as he pulls you into his lap and begins to tickle you. The smell of food is waking Kyle up from his little half-baked nap and he's ruffling your hair as food is being passed out.

"She doesn't need to bother. She's too fit for that." Kyle opens up his kung pao chicken and the smell floods into your nostrils, but he's already on it. "Say 'ahh'." He lifts the chopsticks to feed you the delicious morsels and you happily accept it with a jubliant hum.

"Spoiled little thing." Price chirps as he shoves his lo mein into his mouth. The sauce coats the corners of his mouth and the ends of his stache.

"An' who's fault is that?" Simon gestures at his Captain with his chopsticks. It was true. As their Captain, naturally, they fell in line behind him, so when they saw how he would pamper you excessively they would do it too. And not because of the fact that they were good little soldiers, but because it opened the doorway for them to openly chat you up or (consensually) feel up on you.

Price lets out a hearty laugh. "Ah, bullshit! The minute you lot clocked the opportunity to grab her, you were all over it!"

Johnny licks his lips as you feed him a crab rangoon. "Can ye blame us?"

You quickly cover his mouth with your hand and scrunch your nose up at him. "Don't talk with your mouth full, Johnny!"

He playfully nibbles at your hand and you're then being scooped up by Kyle, who is more than happy to accept your weight in his lap. And Johnny is moaning about how you're being stolen away.

"She's not being swiped if she's scarpering off by herself!" Kyle laughs as he's swatting away any attempts at Johnny trying to confiscate you back.

So, of course, Price wants to dig his heels into Simon when he sees how lackadaisical he is.

"Simon couldn't pull her even if he gave it a good go."

Dark, piercing eyes dangerously flicker to the smug Captain who lays back against the arm chair, sipping on his ale and waits as he takes the bait. One thing that Simon doesn't like is when someone's threatening his hold on his position in any type of situation that especially being you.

"I don't need t'bother." He retorts, taking a sip of his own drink as he man spreads on the sofa.

"Oh, and why's that?" Price is intrigued now. Simon narrows his eyes at him but continues to stuff his face with food, sticky bits of rice garnish the sides of his mouth. This doesn't stop the Captain from pressing the matter and it's now starting to capture your attention as Johnny misses your mouth when he attempts to feed you some stir fry and it stains for your cheek instead.

But Simon is effortlessly patient and cool as a cucumber when he's being dogged on by everyone now, and you're observing the situation closely. He carefully wipes his mouth with a napkin, takes a last swig of his drink before he gets up to clean up after himself. And Price is almost convinced that Simon has given up as used, balled up napkins are being tossed at him by Johnny and Kyle, but in one swift movement you're being tossed over the behemoth's shoulder. A squeak barely manages to escape you as he pats your ass and the others are scrambling to get you as they playfully jest at Simon.

"Ah, no fair!" Johnny tugs at Simon's waistband, and lets go with a loud snap to his pelvis.

"Unhand her!" Kyle laughs as he tries to grab your foot, but he's only left with your ankle sock.

And while those two idiots finally gather themselves to give in to chasing after him, Simon is booking it to his room, and Price is left cackling on the armchair enjoying the rest of his meal.

"Simon!" You giggle, as he's enforcing the door and locking it with one arm as you barely dangle off his shoulder.

He balances you out just for a moment before he tosses you onto his bed and successfully turns the lock. Johnny and Kyle's shouting can be heard on the other side of the door, but Simon doesn't seem to give two fucks as he's approaching you. You're laid out on his bed, cheeks flustered when he towers over you, grasps your wrist, and raises them above your head.

And as his lips are hovering above yours the door is getting busted into as Simon is getting tackled to the floor as the Sergeants hold him down. Your eyes ream at the little giggly clusterfuck, and then in strolls Price who sits on the end of the bed and scoops you into his arms. You feel dizzy in his warmth as you snuggle against him and he kisses the top of your head.

You begin to realize something while you watch Simon turn into a cackling mess as he's being simultaneously tickled mercilessly by Johnny and Kyle. Price has a triumphant smile plastered on his face. It creeps up slowly on you, but he had succeeded in properly baiting all three men, so he could get his way with you.

His azure hues shift to you and he's kissing your cheek. It makes your heart flutter, but you're shaking your head at him when he's gazes down at you with that impish expression.

"Naughty little minx." You wave your finger at him with a bubbly smile. And he's hiding his face in the crook of your neck, tittering away because he knows he's been caught red-handed.

[starluv]

MORE ANGST.

Like, okay, more angst for reader, but I need some angst for 141. Like PLEASE.

So, the reader, frustrated (mentally and physically), decides to take things onto their own hands. If they treat them as if they don't exist, so will they. It starts simple. They don't greet them good morning and goodbye anymore, when the team would only offer a grunt or nod of acknowledgment. Reader doesn't ask them to hang out, or to join into their plans. They start living for themselves, not quite leaving them, more like treating the four men like roommates. Whenever one would initiate intimacy, reader would slip away, offering some lame excuse. At the same time, just an hour later, they'd see a glimpse of reader, all dressed up and pretty, not bothering to let them know where they'd be going as they run out the front door, only to be heared from a couple of hours later. Stumbling through the front door with a second pair of footsteps following suit, and a hearty male laugh. The apartment was as much reader's as it was the boys' so it should be normal they brought someone home ... but was this what the task force 141 though?

changed it ever so slightly but I love this yes

c/w: poly!141, mentions of emotional neglect, alcohol, intoxication

you got the idea after scrolling through social media, rotting away in bed had become a common routine for you. an advertisement had popped up for a bar that opened up a few months ago, you remember asking johnny and kyle to go with you but they were too busy at the time

it looked like a nice enough place. not like the dive bars in camden that simon takes you to, or those annoying ass scotch bars in canary wharf that john insists on ‘introducing’ you to. as if you’ve never had a glass of scotch before. the memory makes you scoff to yourself

surprisingly, it doesn’t take much to convince yourself to just… go. if they won’t go with you, there’s no reason why you can’t convince yourself. they were too busy ignoring you to notice you’d be gone anyway. so, you drag yourself out of bed and rifle through the wardrobe for something to wear

looking good really does make you feel good, you say to yourself when you catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror once you were ready. you’d decided on a fitted black dress with a pair of black strapped heels. they wouldn’t notice but you added a bit of detail to the outfit

if they did notice that every piece of jewellery was a piece they had bought for you, it would fucking burn. the diamond skull-shaped studs that simon got you, the vintage locket that john had found for you when he was deployed, and the anklet that kyle had grabbed from some fancy jewellery store on oxford street paired with the stunning ring that johnny found at a local market in scotland

you took a deep breath and held your head high before grabbing your purse. when you entered the front room, all conversation stopped as usual. but only because they were too busy eyeing you up and down, “where’re you goin’ dressed like that?”

you roll your eyes when john speaks up, not even stopping to respond. a curt ‘out’ leaving your lips as you walk out the front door and slam it loudly. the boys all looked at each other, shifting in their seats uncomfortably at the interaction

john narrowed his eyes as he glared at the front door. he didn’t like not knowing where you were. even if you didn’t know it, john always knew about your whereabouts

the bar was nice, nice enough for you to drink your feelings away in. in your head, you imagined flirting with anyone just to make the boys jealous. but every time someone approached you, it just filled you with more sadness. perhaps a part of you just wanted the boys to grab you, persuade you to stay with sweet words and gentle kisses like they used to do when you looked this good

it was a few hours past midnight when you finally returned, simon awakened by the sounds of giggling outside and your keys jangling in the door. he didn’t plan on getting out of bed until he heard a male voice speaking along side yours

he stalked down the stairs, following the sounds of your heels stumbling until he found you in the front room. you were drunk out of your fucking mind with some random bloke holding you up. simon’s fists clenched at his side and he decided to make his presence known

“better take your hand off her before you fuckin’ lose it, mate.” he spits, taking a step closer to yank you from the man’s grip. you squeak and stumble from the harsh tug, landing right against simon’s bulky frame as he holds on to your arm to keep you steady

the man takes a step back, holding his hands up in surrender. “woah, i’m not here to cause any trouble. was just making sure she got home safe. my colleague over served her and she said her roommates were too busy to pick her up.”

simon clenches his jaw, keeping his gaze on the man and just waiting for him to step out of line. he doesn’t even notice that the others have climbed out of bed too, coming downstairs to hear what the commotion is about

he turns his head only to shove you into price’s arms, squaring his shoulders as he stares the bartender down. “well, our girl is home and safe now so you best be on your way.”

“relax, mate. she’s really not my type. that one there is more my type.” the bartender chuckles, nodding his head towards soap before turning around and walking out the door but not before giving you a goodbye

price steadies your body against him, already getting an idea of the kind of drunken state that you’re in. he lifts your basically limp body into his arms before carrying you up to bed but he doesn’t take you to the spare room. he takes you to what you have recently come to know as their room

“had a bit too much, princess?” he chuckles, placing you down on the bed. you look at him confused before letting your head fall to the pillow

“‘m still your princess?” you mumble into the fabric. price frowns slightly, turning his head to look at the boys before making work on taking your heels off

“course. you always have been.” he mumbles. you respond with a small hum before completely passing out against the sheets…

[starluv]

soldier's eyes

[starluv]

Simon is cold, he’s rough, rude, and doesn’t give a shit about anyone else’s opinions.

Except for you, to you he’s soft, vulnerable, sweet, loving, and happy.

One day you go to drop off his lunch at base as he has forgotten it.

You walk in, dressed in a light pink sundress with flowers on it.

White sandals on your feet, your toes painted white and your nails done in a light pink.

You walk in and go up to the receptionist. All eyes on you.

“Is Simon here?” You ask softly, a small smile on your pink lips

The receptionist looks at you confused, “Simon? Ma’am I’m afraid I don’t know who you’re speaking of.”

A few minutes pass and you’re waiting on the receptionist, when all of a sudden a group of men walk in.

Everyone stands up and salutes them except you, you look up from your phone and see your husband.

“Simmy!” You run through the group of men until you reach Simon, hugging him tightly. The room goes silent as everyone stares.

Some people whisper knowing that he’s most likely gonna push you off and say a rude remark but he doesn’t. Not to you.

He wraps his arms around you as well and picks you up. “Hey love,” He kisses your cheek and hugs you tighter. “What are you doing here?”

You pull away and hug his arm, smiling brightly. “You forgot your lunch, where were you?”

“Just a mission.” He grumbles, he holds your hand and without even saying bye to his comrades he leads you to his office.

Leaving everyone shocked and confused, they all thought that he was lying when he said he was married. And especially they didn’t expect his wife to be so gorgeous.

[starluv]

thinking about your older bf!simon that cannot cope with being far from you.

when you’re in the shower, he’s sat on the lid of the toilet on his phone (watching those rug cleaning videos) enjoying your faint singing under the stream of water, the smell of your body wash on the cloud of steam- ready to pass you a towel or get your back.

when you’re at your desk, working from home or studying, he’s just on the other side of it reading the paper with one outstretched leg tangled with both of yours. he’s dead quiet when you’re on a call, just happy to be around.

when you’re doing laundry, collecting the clothes in the hamper and crouching to stuff them into the washer- turning around and accidentally colliding with a thick wall of muscle.

“sorry, love”

he steps aside but you can hear his soft footfalls as he continues to follow you throughout your home.

when you’re both watching something on the couch, what starts as his pinky locked with yours turns into his arm around your waist. that turns into your head on his chest, which culminates with you falling asleep in his lap with his cheek on your head and soft snores emanating from his lips.

when you grocery shop, you push the trolley but his chest is to your back, arms either side of you and hands clasped over yours on the handle. you can thank his military training for his uncanny ability to tell exactly when you’ll stop walking.

when he wakes up in the middle of the night, on a rare occasion when you’ve managed to slip out of bed without him realising, he’s immediately in a panic calling your name.

“in here, my love”

as soon as his heart settles, he realises the bathroom light was probably a dead giveaway. you’re taking a wee, you’ll be back in a minute.

that doesn’t stop a sleepy simon from leaning in the doorframe, shielding his eyes from the big light as he waits for you to finish up.

even on the short walk back to bed, you can feel fingers twisted in the back of your shirt- almost like you’re leading the way.

minute you’re both on the mattress, you’re being wrapped up in his arms, slotting you perfectly into the curve of his front- almost like you’re made for him.

(and you are)

[starluv]

“No, no no, baby-baby let mama talk-“ much to your dismay your toddler already took off with the tablet down the hall with your husband on face time. With a disgruntled huff you walk down the hall and move to open the door only to falter for a moment as you hear your husbands voice.

“Takin’ care of your mum, bubs?”

“Des sir.”

“Why you runnin’ from her then?”

“Caasaaus I wanna talk to you and when mummy starts to talk to you she doesn’t share.”

A gruff laugh, “Alright alright, well what do you wanna talk about then, lad?”

You stand outside the door for a solid ten minutes before you knocked on the door and moved your son to your lap to smile down at your husband.

“Hey, honey.”

“Hey, hot stuff.”

You see him roll his eyes and you bite back a smile.

“Lad told me you’re not sharin enough.”

You playfully gasp, which triggered your sons giddy laughter, “No! Really??”

“Really!”

[starluv]

You say that Ghost would be completely different to the man going off to war, but I disagree, he's exactly the same, just turning that laser focus of his from completing missions to making sure his girl and his family are getting treated perfectly. He's planning absolutely EVERYTHING, he has it all worked out from what colour to paint the nursery to the exact model of crib your baby will be sleeping in when you bring them home for the first time.

Man is prepared for any eventuality that may arise before, during, and after your pregnancy. He's got your cycle tracked on the calendar with all the optimum times for... coupling, circled with bright red marker.

(I've been so busy recently, I've only been able to catch a couple of your posts randomly throughout the last couple of days 😭😭)

Ghost only has one mode and that is intense focus. There's a big difference between Daddy Ghost and Lieutenant Ghost though. He promises himself he'll never yell at his kids, that he'll never raise a hand to them like his father did, and it makes him an incredibly gentle parent. Also a nightmare to parent alongside. He's so worried about doing something that could hurt the kid that it's hard to make him enforce rules. Sure if it's something that could end up with his baby girl hurt(staying out past curfew, winding up in the hospital after a rough footie game) he can bring the hammer down, but if it's no dessert before dinner? No snacks before bed? TV off for homework? He's hesitant to be the "bad guy" for his girls.

That said the man knows exactly what he's getting for his babies you're right about that. He has a mental registry that he's been filling out for years. Everything with different safety grades and price points, really channeling his focus into setting up for the baby he's desperate to do right by.

There's something that itches at him for the first few months playing house, reality setting in when he sees you pregnant, some desire to run to abandon ship. His father's voice nags at him that he'll never be worth the skin on his back, that he'll never be able to escape his upbringing. But as soon as that little bundle of joy is settled in Simon's arms it's like his whole world changes. They're just so tiny... He'll protect them, make sure nothing bad ever happens, be there for every scraped knee and every sniffle.

Ghost is completely unprepared for the baby to bunch up their little face and start wailing.

[starluv]

no bc Simon Riley would suck as a father, to his own thoughts he's too mean and he would scare the little tyke

however your little three year old idolizes him

Simon riley sucks as a father expect when the little guy wants to see over the crowd of people, so of course he puts him on his shoulders

Simon Riley sucks as a father when it comes to saying no, all the little guy has to do is pout and Simon's buying the stupid dinosaur shaped plushie

Simon Riley sucks as father when it comes to pick up lanes, after twenty minutes of sitting in the line at the pre-k through middle school line he's out and walking to get him

Simon Riley sucks as a father during bedtime, reading all of the books and acting out the characters to sell the whole bit instead of making the little guy go to sleep

Simon Riley sucks as a father when the boy gets a scrape on the knee, panicking as the boy begins to sob and looking to you as if you could magically fix it (you did, a kiss on both of their foreheads and ice cream)

Simon Riley sucks as a father when he leaves on deployment, truly not wanting to let go but has to after a few minutes

Simon Riley sucks as a father because instead of telling the boy take care of his mum he lets the little guy spend the entire phone call ramble on about his friends at school and the new toys you got him

Simon Riley truly sucks as a father when it comes to his son, because blood or not, he's a sucker for that little guy