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alpharegiment · 1 year ago

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Decoding the Indian Army TES (Technical Entry Scheme) Selection Process

Introduction:

The Indian Army Technical Entry Scheme (TES) is a unique avenue for young aspirants to join the esteemed Indian Army as commissioned officers. The TES is specifically designed for candidates with a passion for technology and engineering. This article delves into the selection process for the Indian Army TES, providing a comprehensive understanding of the various stages involved.

Eligibility Criteria: Before embarking on the selection process, candidates must ensure they meet the eligibility criteria set by the Indian Army. As of my last knowledge update in January 2022, the criteria generally include:

a. Nationality: Indian b. Age: Between 16.5 and 19.5 years c. Educational Qualifications: 10+2 with Physics, Chemistry, and Mathematics

Online Application: The first step in the selection process is the submission of an online application. Aspirants need to register on the official Indian Army website and fill in the required details accurately. It is essential to keep all relevant documents and educational certificates ready for verification.

Shortlisting of Candidates: After the application process, the Indian Army shortlists candidates based on their academic performance and other specified criteria. Shortlisted candidates are then issued call letters for the Service Selection Board (SSB) interview.

Service Selection Board (SSB) Interview: The SSB interview is a crucial phase of the TES selection process. It spans over five days and evaluates candidates on various parameters, including:

a. Officer Intelligence Rating (OIR) Tests: These assess cognitive abilities and problem-solving skills. b. Picture Perception and Description Test (PP&DT): Candidates analyze a picture and provide a written description. c. Psychological Tests: These evaluate personality traits and psychological compatibility. d. Group Testing Officer (GTO) Tasks: Candidates undergo group activities to assess teamwork and leadership skills. e. Interview: A personal interview with an interviewing officer.

Medical Examination: Candidates who successfully clear the SSB interview undergo a thorough medical examination. The medical standards set by the Indian Army are stringent, ensuring that candidates are physically fit to serve in the armed forces.

Merit List: The final merit list is prepared based on the candidate's performance in the SSB interview, medical examination, and academic qualifications. The selected candidates are then notified and proceed to the next phase of training.

Training at Officers Training Academy (OTA): Candidates who make it to the final merit list undergo training at the Officers Training Academy. The training period is designed to equip them with the necessary skills and knowledge required for their roles as commissioned officers in the Indian Army.

Conclusion:

The Indian Army TES selection process is a challenging yet rewarding journey for young individuals aspiring to serve their nation as technical officers. It requires a combination of academic excellence, leadership qualities, and physical fitness. Aspirants must prepare diligently for each stage of the selection process to increase their chances of success and embark on a fulfilling career in the Indian Army.

#Indian Army TES Selection Process

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thedcgacademy · 2 years ago

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charliemwrites · 2 years ago

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Woof, grrr, woof

No content warnings

Your trip to the vet turns up nothing. No microchips, and none of the staff recognize the wolf-dog. They’re the only vet in town too, and he looks too pristine to have come from another…

“You’re a weird little guy, huh?” you muse on the car ride to the pet store.

The vet office was kind enough to make a file for him, standing name “Buddy”. If you get to keep him, you’re definitely changing it. They also gave you a spare leash so that you wouldn’t have to leave him in the car while you shop.

It’s a pitifully flimsy thing, but the dog seems leashed trained and does tug. Could probably let him off it and he’d stay glued to your side.

The shopping is even weirder. He doesn’t seem very distracted by treats or food, only snaps at other dogs when they get into his personal space. Otherwise, he just stays right next to you, tongue occasionally lapping at your hanging fingers.

“Beautiful dog,” a man says to you. An older guy, rugged, looking at toys.

You shift. “Thank you.”

“Should really be feeding a beast like that a raw diet.”

“Raw diet?”

“What they get in the wild. All that processed shite ain’t good for ‘em.”

You thank him for the advice over the dog’s grumbling. A quick internet search on your phone reveals it’s not a bad idea, actually. Not too expensive either.

“Raw it is,” you muse.

He tilts his head, make a low “woof”. You scratch absently at his ears as you continue shopping. Let him pick toys - his favorite a squeaky grenade of all things that he refuses to put down. You get a big matching set of food and water bowls, a cushy dog bed, a parasite repellent. Even some dog pads in case he’s not house trained.

You stall in the leash aisle, a bit overwhelmed by the choices of leashes and collars and harnesses.

“How do you feel about pink…?”

Snort.

“Yeah didn’t think so. I didn’t like the rhinestones anyway. You’d probably end up eating one and shitting glitter.”

A long whine.

“Oh, sorry, is that embarrassing? Poor love.”

The gentlest scrape of big teeth at your knuckles. You chuckle and tap two fingers on his sandpaper tongue. His head jerks back, tongue flicking in offense.

“S’what you get, dummy.”

Shaking your head, turn back to the selection. The pup huffs, shakes his head, and noses at something lower. It’s a deep green - army, you think the shade is called - collar with a silver buckle instead of a snap clip.

“Not bad,” you muse. “Matches the whole woodsy vibe we’ve got going.”

You find the matching leash and harness set, dropping it in your cart. You receive several more compliments on your big gorgeous dog, though he refuses to let anyone pet him. You awkwardly make excuses that he’s a recent rescue and try to avoid further conversation.

The last stop is at the kiosk for a tag. You can’t just let him go without one, but you despise officially naming him “Buddy.”

You end up just putting your name, number, and address on there. A matte black heart engraved with silver.

“What do you think?” you ask, offering it for a sniff.

The dog doesn’t even pretend to be interested, just takes the opportunity to drag his tongue over your wrist again. You huff and wipe off on your pants.

“Gonna have to take another bath at this rate.”

You ignore his grumble - it’s uncanny at this point, how quick he is to respond - and guide him out to the car. He hops into the passenger seat, flops over into your lap first chance he gets. You have to nudge his snout away from your crotch again, but he seems satisfied with a hand smoothing over his head.

Home is warm when you arrive. You set up your new dog’s things, buckle him into his new collar, tag and all.

“There,” you coo, dropping smooches all over his head. “Look at how handsome you are, sweet boy! Can I have a kiss?”

You yelp as he barrels you over onto your back, well over 100 pounds of wolf-dog stretching over you. You turn your face away as he licks at your mouth, trying to get inside. You remember reading somewhere that that’s a wolf thing; just another tick in the “hybrid” box.

“Gross, gross! Nooooo,” you laugh, covering his snout. You squeal as his tongue flickers between two fingers. “Nasty boy! You’re so rude!!”

He finally lets you up with much coaxing, looking far too pleased with himself.

You make yourself dinner, providing your dog with scraps of chicken and unseasoned veggies based on your online reading. He seems happy with the offering, eats it all up with gusto.

As the evening comes, you stretch out on the couch. Finally feel brave enough to put on a scary movie now that you’ve got a big-ass deterrent.

Your dog even climbs up to cuddle, head on your chest while you hug him through scary parts. The really interesting part comes at the end, during the climax.

“Heeeeeere’s Johnny!”

Your new companion perks up, eyes on the screen.

“Oh? Is… is that your name? Is your name Johnny?”

His head snaps around to you, ears straight up and eyes bright.

“Johnny…” you croon, trying it out.

He makes a little “boof” noise and wriggles closer.

“Johnny baby,” you continue, grinning. “Johnny boy. John John the bon bon.”

It’s utter nonsense, but it makes his tail thump against the cushions, leaving slobbery kisses of excitement all over your neck and jaw.

“Alright alright!” you laugh, dropping a kiss on the top of his nose. “Johnny it is. Thank fuck I don’t have to come up with a name. Was thinking of calling you Philip or Simon or something.”

You yelp as he starts to make gagging sounds, nearly kicking him off the couch before it seems to subside.

“Good lord, bud,” you breathe as he grumbles and settles his head on your thigh, puffing out a big breath through his nose. “You’re gonna be a handful.”

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#cod #thoughts™️#my writing #fanfiction #dark fic #reader fic

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beemynumberone · 3 months ago

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Pictures from Pinterest.

Oh no, he’s hot

→ Kindergarten teacher assistant!Reader x older brother of a student (it’s Taeyong)

→ heart-warming fluff, as the title suggests

→ inspired by an event that occured last week (yes, took me some time to process it; no, I don’t think it meant anything for either of us hopefully)

-> also inspired by the Taeyong pictures at military service :D

word count: ~592 words

—-

Nat was a sweet, intelligent girl in your assigned class who could be quite mischievous. She was precocious for her age - probably due to growing up around adults since young. Her boba eyes could melt even the head teacher’s frost-like temperament.

She did the same three things every morning when she arrived:

Firstly, arm wrestle (you let her win every time, to her dismay, so it was a win win situation - you didn’t become a statistic of her losses and she was technically the winner).

Secondly, check your ear lobes to see if you had put on new earrings, remarking if you changed and if you didn’t.

And last but not least; ask, “Do you have a boyfriend?”

“Nope.” “Why not?”

(You felt guys your age were too… immature? Undeveloped? In both brains and brawn, you suppose. A wise woman at the fish market once told you to wait till a guy had finished his military service before even considering to date him. You believe wholeheartedly in that after going through a high school relationship that left you traumatised for the foreseeable future.)

---

Nat waves goodbye to you with one hand, the other clinging onto her brother’s. Who is currently trying, with surgical precision, to manoeuvre her bag over to his arm without disrupting her waving.

“Nat’s brother is really good-looking, isn’t he?” The teachers gush in hushed tones near the cubby holes. You squeeze past them to get your bag.

You've never thought much about him. Sure, he was easy on the eyes. His style, immaculate. You’re sure he’ll never need to go through the relationship phase of needing his girlfriend to pick out clothes for him.

---

Nat talks about her brother constantly. Despite the large age gap, it seems that Nat adores him. Shows you his baby photos that she’d snuck into her books for safekeeping.

He’s off at army, she says. Comes back for the weekends to stay with the family.

It’s fun with him around because she usually doesn’t see him, ever, even on the weekends. You nod along sympathetically, picturing this lean guy you’d seen on brand advertisements or the occasional fancam appearing on your fyp. In a baggy shirt, bucket hat on his head when picking Nat up from school.

---

Then one fine day, you mistake him for a stranger. You blame his muscular back, and the fact that you’ve never seen him wear such… fitting clothes before.

You’re entering a mall to run errands when the person in front holds the door for you.You thank said person in your “public voice” - that kind which warrants a response, like a nod or a “you’re welcome”.

The person turns to face you, still holding the door, and you two make eye contact. It takes you a hot second to recognise him — Nat’s brother.

As if you hadn’t stared enough for the both of you, he looks, really looks at you.

Time stands still. Your heart thunders in your chest.

What is happening.

Those eyes. Sucked you right in.

And cut! You can almost hear someone shouting. Taeyong drops his gaze from yours and smiles softly.

He rushes ahead of you, rejoining his sister and mother who are browsing the menu of a restaurant further away.

You’re screwed, really screwed.

He really should’ve kept his eyes to himself.

—

If you want this fic to have a continuation, please select your preference here. Thanks!!

#nct #nct 127 #nct fanfic #taeyong x reader #nct taeyong #nct x reader #nct fluff #nct 127 fanfic #taeyong lee x reader #taeyong lee #taeyong fluff #kpop fanfic #bee’s writing #bee:nct

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enyaliuswrites · 3 months ago

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➽ Chasing the One Who Hunts

Prince!Caleb x Spy!fem reader 100 followers special. 2.11k words.

Prince LADS Masterlist

Prince!Caleb, who’s a great prince. An awesome prince, actually. As commander of the royal army, he’s a force on the battlefield, but it’s his warmth that truly wins hearts. Everyone knows him—not just as the prince, but as someone who’s been there for the people. He cooks with grandmothers on weekends, tutors children, and plays with them in the streets.

Prince!Caleb, who isn’t even the crown prince but others call him otherwise. His older brother drowns himself in sorrow and indulgence, while Caleb carries the weight of the royal family’s expectations. From the moment he could remember, his parents boasted of his greatness, and he refused to let anyone call them liars. So he proved every single boast of their right.

'Caleb will be the finest swordsman in the kingdom.' So he became one. 'Caleb will be the sharpest strategist.' So he mastered the art of war. 'Caleb will be the greatest king our bloodline has ever seen.' Well… he’d make sure of it.

Prince!Caleb, who’s loved by everyone, except for his mother. Why? Because he’s turning down every single marriage proposal that his mother has arranged for him. Whether it’s making himself seem unappealing, disappearing at the last minute, or simply refusing to acknowledge her existence, he’ll do whatever it takes to avoid wasting time on someone he doesn’t care for.

Prince!Caleb, who sees through every smile and flattering word. Women approach him with hopes of securing a life of comfort by his side, while men seek his favor to leech off his power and wealth. No one comes to him without a hidden motive, and that’s exactly why he despises them all. Yes, he’s a prince and yes, he fulfills his duty immaculately. But that doesn’t mean he has to enjoy every single moment of it.

Prince!Caleb, who is now forced to take a bride. His mother refused to let him enter his fourth decade without a partner to care for him, to continue the bloodline. Yet as he stands in front of the five chosen candidates, he can’t help but feel disgusted by them. He keeps it well-hidden, of course, but the truth is clear to him. Anyone who made it this far—who survived the brutal selection process—had to be ruthless, calculating, and dangerously skilled. And that is what he hated.

Prince!Caleb, who recognizes one of the brides as the same woman he had once bumped into on the street and given his cloak to cover a water stain on her clothing. The coincidence is too perfect, too convenient. As he studied you standing in front of him he knew something was wrong. So, to be sure, he decided to keep you close. And before long, his suspicions were confirmed—his first impression of you had been right all along. That you were indeed a spy from the enemy kingdom.

You never thought that it would work out. Well, you had a lot of hope but hoping isn’t the same as being a hundred percent sure. So when the prince chose you to be his bride you felt your heart skip a beat. The wedding was a big ceremony and you would’ve been happy if it weren’t for some familiar faces that you saw in the crowd. The reminder that you still weren’t free. And that’s what drove you to complete this mission. Your last mission.

The blueprints of the castle and Caleb's life.

But staring at his peaceful undisturbed face now made you have second guesses. The way his hair barely covered his eyes, how he held you close and how his chest slowly raised and fell from his breath. He had treated you nothing but the absolute best.

He had never overstepped any boundaries. Gave you his cloak, the cloak that only the royal family could wear even before your marriage. Made sure he always had time for you. He remembered the flowers you adored, the dishes you savored, the clothing you preferred. It was as if he completed you in ways you had and hadn’t realized you were missing.

“Morning, beautiful. How’d you sleep?” His gravelly voice pulls you back to the present, and you find yourself smiling at him. His lilac eyes glinted in the sunlight as his lips curled into a smile—one that actually reached his eyes, unlike the practiced ones he gives to the public. And that’s what distracted you. As a spy, reading people is second nature, so realizing that Caleb only ever smiled like this around you… it cracked something in your resolve.

“I slept fine. You?” Your voice comes out calm, but softer and higher than usual. Something about being near Caleb makes your stomach flip and your heart race—and that terrified you.

“I had a nightmare that I lost you. But other than that I slept fine.” He glances up at the towering castle ceilings, his eyes narrowing as if lost in thought. Then, just as quickly, he turns back to you with those big, pleading eyes locking onto yours. “Not even a little comfort? I’m suffering here.”

Caleb's bottom lip jutted out in a subtle pout as he pulled you closer, his arms wrapping securely around your smaller frame. In that moment, you weren’t sure whether you wanted to strangle him or yourself—maybe both. But instead, you just sighed and held him tighter, letting the silence speak for itself.

The grey feathers of the pigeon were getting everywhere as it flapped its wings furiously on your window sill as if to say “What’s taking so long, woman?!” Some were scattered on your clothes and the wooden window sill, while some was on the floor inside the room.

The letter had arrived three weeks ago, setting this day as the moment to send the castle’s blueprints to your kingdom. Yet, instead of acting, you found yourself staring out the window for hours. The messenger bird shifted restlessly, growing impatient with your hesitation. The blank piece of paper you held in your hand felt a lot heavier than it was supposed to be and even with the bird pecking your hand you couldn’t bring yourself to draw or write anything on it.

It wasn’t your fault though. How could it be? They never taught you to not fall in love, only how to lie, deceive and kill. You had tried to ignore this gnawing feeling for months but now you had to face it head on. You were falling for Caleb. No. That’s wrong.

You’ve already fallen for Caleb.

And hard too.

That’s exactly what Caleb had wanted. Of course all of the good things he did for you he did it to gain your trust but he would be a liar if he said that he hadn’t fallen for you too.

Caleb's lilac eyes looked through a crack in the open door, waiting to see what you’d do. Just the hesitation alone made his heart skip several beats. However, one thing was certain. Even if you did betray him then that’d be fine because either way you’re always going to be by his side and he'd make sure of that.

A smile has been etched on his face for the longest time ever since he’s met you. From out of intrigue to tolerance to obsession love. So when he saw you crumple the paper and shove it in your pocket this was the first time he stopped smiling. He didn’t know how to process these emotions. He had never loved someone romantically before and now he felt like he could run around the entirety of his kingdom.

As the door creaks open and your eyes meet his, he swears his breath catches in his throat. Gods, how do you always look so effortlessly beautiful? Caleb needs to add to his to-do list to have scientists study you.

“Wha’cha up to?” he asks, stepping closer, your scent flooding his senses and scrambling his thoughts. His lips curl into a smile, his eyes gleaming with that look of love you knew all too well. He should probably check if your perfume contains some kind of drug—because to him, you’re an addiction he can never get enough of.

“I found this poor injured bird. Was just about to help nurse it back to health.” Caleb swore he could get lost in those eyes of yours that told stories your words didn’t. Then he notices the messenger bird in your hands. Its leg, now broken, twitches as it struggles weakly. His chest tightens. Did you just break its leg the moment he stepped in? Had you really reacted that fast to cover your tracks?

That was hot.

“Poor little guy. I know he’ll get better, especially with you looking after him.” He flashes you a wink and you give him a small smile. You offer him a small smile in return, your mind still racing. It had been a split-second decision—one you had to make to keep yourself from being discovered. Lowering your gaze to the pigeon in your hands, you gently stroke its head. It coos in protest, a small, irritated sound, but you keep your touch light, masking the tension thrumming beneath your skin.

“Did you need something-”

Caleb was already standing in front of you, his expression strangely unnatural—one you couldn't recall ever seeing before, yet it felt eerily familiar. He leaned in, his breath ghosting against your ear as he whispered words that sent a shiver down your spine and turned your blood to ice.

“Go on, send a message. Try to run. Try anything you want. It won’t change a thing... because you belong here. With me. Always.”

And that’s when you realized—this wasn’t new. That dangerous look had always been there, hidden behind every soft smile, every lingering touch.

Prince!Caleb, who gives you a gentle kiss on your forehead and leaves the room like nothing had happened. The prince goes on with his day as you spend most of the time acting like everything was fine when you felt like breaking down. By the time you meet for supper you’re not sure what to do or say.

Prince!Caleb, who eats his supper as usual, his eyes stealing glances at you as you continuously lock eyes with him. You open your mouth to speak, to ask what the heck is going on and what he was going to do with you. Torture? But he interrupts you, urging you to eat. The two of you don’t talk until just before bed when you try to ask again but he shuts you up with a kiss.

Prince!Caleb, who continues to treat you like the same, however this time it feels like he’s clingier than usual, quickly finishing his duties and coming over to you. After multiple failed attempts of talking about what had happened that day the perfect opportunity finally presented itself as you asked him about what was going to happen to you on a random morning.

Prince!Caleb, who yawns before bursting out into laughter. The sound bounces off the walls and before you would’ve laughed too but now your guard is at its highest. The prince kisses your hand before saying not to worry about a thing and that he loves you before getting up and getting ready for the day.

Prince!Caleb, who you’ve learned to live with like this. He never brings it up again, never speaks of what you both know to be true. But you’re certain of one thing: he’s pulling strings to keep you alive. If they truly believed you had betrayed them, they would have sent spies to kill you by now. And they had—many times. But the only real danger you’d ever faced was the glint of Caleb's blade, cutting them down before they could even dare to look at that stunning face of yours.

Prince!Caleb, who swore that he would kill as many people as he had to, as long as that meant you were safe. Your hands were already stained with enough blood—so he would bear the burden for you. But then, one night, the blade meant for him finds its mark. He bleeds, and for the first time, you’re the one cutting down his enemy, the one keeping him alive.

Prince!Caleb, who has fought by your side ever since that day—though it took countless arguments and stubborn persuasion. His lilac eyes always find yours on the battlefield, a silent promise woven into every glance. And if you so much as stub your toe, he’ll have soldiers drag you back to safety if they must. Because to him, no victory, no kingdom, no war will ever matter more than you.

A/N: Ya'll do not know how sorry I am. ITS BEEN 4 NEARLY 5 DAYS UGH. I love all of you so much and thank you for 196 followers oh my god. I swear it was only 160 something when I started this special. This Caleb writing had been so fun to write and I think I went a tad bit crazy. Thank you all again so much :,)) <333

Dividers by @mikeykuns

#enyaliuswrites #enyalius 100 followers special #love and deepspace #lads x reader #love and deepspace x you #lads fluff #lads x you #l&ds #caleb fluff #caleb x reader #caleb x you #xia yizhou x reader #xia yizhou

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manasastuff-blog · 1 year ago

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"Congratulations M.SURYA For getting selected in the Indian Army from Manasa Defence Academy"#trending#viral

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bits-and-babs · 2 years ago

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Im so sorry I didn’t see this till after request were closed but so idk if you gon see this but, f!reader had her nipples pierced? I’m sorry but I feel like price would be obsessed with readers piercings like if she had a tongue piercing too? Manz would go crazy. Smut? Dw if not <33

✦ 𝐒𝐔𝐁𝐌𝐄𝐑𝐆𝐄 ✦

– KINKTOBER DAY 6: NIPPLE PIERCINGS

cds!john price x recruit!reader | smut, 18+ | 1.2k words

summary: three months into your sas training course, chief directional instructor captain john price drills you on cold-water-shock survival.

cw: f!reader, cold water shock, power imbalance (recruit x directing staff), secret relationship, breast/nipple play, p in v sex, cream pie.

⇽ KINKTOBER MLIST | DAY 7: INCUBUS ⇾

It wasn’t as though there hadn’t been sufficient warning, but three years of service in the British army was nowhere near enough to prepare your body for the brutal battering that SAS selection subjected it to. Your blisters had blisters, and your body pulsed with a bone-deep ache every time you managed to crawl into bed upon dismissal.

You had been sufficiently warned… About everything except this.

Freezing cold water drips from your nose as you hoist yourself out of the pool at the base of the waterfall. Cold-Water-Shock training was a standard part of SAS selection– the ability to control your own discomfort and maintain a level head whilst also teaching the fundamentals of surviving sub-zero. January weather meant temperature levels were unsurvivable past a handful of seconds, and you could feel why.

The process was simple. Fully submerge yourself into the icy depths before raising to the surface and keeping your chin above water. Next step; breathe. Regain composure and steady your breathing to fight the effects of cold-shock. Recruitment Staff would then ask you a handful of simple questions to assess competency before heaving you out of the water.

You’d passed, you felt, with flying colours. The savagery of the otherworldly Brecon Beacons had failed to shake your resolve, answering the questions with ease. Even now, drenched to the bone and involuntarily trembling, you maintained a strong eye contact with Chief Directional Instructor Price as he eyed you with a stern expression.

It’s momentary— barely there. You’d have missed it had you blinked. Price’s thick eyelashes, made damp by the sleet that had been battering the group all morning, dipped below your face. Sapphire blue irises glint in the low light when they zero in on their target. You hadn’t worn a bra this morning given you’d been forced out of bed at the arse-crack of dawn and expected to be in the van within five minutes… They’d left you little to no choice.

Regardless of this reasonable explanation, you suddenly begin to regret your decision to forgo the cover, Staff Price gazing at the way your grey t-shirt clings to your pebbled nipples and the exposed shape of the piercing balls either side of each mound.

“That’ll be all, 16,” he says, that raspy grit to his voice warming you from the inside-out. That fever encroaches on the apples of your cheeks when you realise he’s yet to pull his eyes away.

“… Yes Staff.”

✦✦✦

“You did that on purpose.”

John’s voice, husky and full, was surprisingly even considering how tight your pussy walls clenched around his thick, veiny cock. You wail quietly at the soft breath that dances across your assaulted skin, nipples so incredibly sensitive. Sucked and nibbled and licked, the tender skin screams when Price drags the flat of his tongue over your pierced nipple with a delighted hum.

“N-No—“ you choke out, the overstimulation of your nipples sending another shockwave of bliss down your spine. You know you’re squeezing him, because John ruts up into your fluttering pussy with a far less composed groan. “I didn’t— I didn’t mean to!”

“You’re not foolin’ anyone, Love,” John murmurs, gently taking your pebbled nipple between his teeth and rolling it.

You see stars— swirls of technicolour dancing behind your eyelids with how tightly you squeeze them shut against the cataclysmic pleasure that seeps between your thighs. When John jerks his hips up again, you can hear how wet you are. It’s sloppy, disgustingly soaked, and Price loves it.

“Fuckin’— Hah-“ John moans against the supple flesh of your breast, wrapping his lips around it and sucking on the hypersensitised skin. This time, when you arch your back from the bed with a wail of his name, he begins a slow and leisurely pace with his hips.

Burying your fingers into the short-crop of his hair, you brace against the ticking bomb of your orgasm as it approaches. Each long stroke of John’s hips makes another disgustingly wet sound, your cunt greedily sucking him in and creaming around his throbbing dick as he flicks his tongue back and forth across your abused nipple. His other palm, battle calloused and rough, squeezed the other breast, thumb equally torturing your second nipple.

It comes in waves; cresting, crashing tsunamis rather than soft laps of the ocean on a beach. A prickling heat that singes away the Beacon’s icy cold from your toes and creeps up the inside of your thighs. Your heart slams against John’s lips, your hands pushing into the back of his head to keep him there while you chase what could only be described as liquidation.

“Ohmygod—“ you slur, and it’s as though the edges of your vision blacken. In truth, you’re not sure what you call him as you come apart on his cock, sobbing out a hapless string of garbled noises that don’t sound anything like his name. Toes curling either side of his hips, you fail to brace against the overstimulation that rips violently through you.

“Fucken’ ‘ell—“ he groans deeply, a guttural growl that seems to vibrate the atoms in the air around you. The deliberate, methodical thrusts of his hips suddenly pitch to a sloppy, desperate gallop. John’s hands grasp the bed sheets so tight you almost hear the threads strain against the pull.

He cums, coating the inside of your cunt with a rumble of your name that sounds so foreign to your ears with the afterglow buzzing in your eardrums. John continues to fuck you through it, taking pleasure in the way you squirm and squeal and cry until his cum seeps between your legs, coating the inside of your thighs with his seed.

Sharp, heaving breaths echo in his small quarters, and you’re almost certain that his fellow DS had definitely heard you this time. But when John places his damp forehead to yours, eyes closed as he relishes in the bliss of being so close to you for just a moment longer, you struggle to find it in yourself to worry.

“You should wear a bra,” John mumbles, pressing a kiss to your lips— but missing in the haze of post-orgasm-bliss and settling for a peck on the corner of your mouth.

“Why?” You muse, still a little breathless as he works his lips down your chin and over your jaw. The gruff, burly Chief of Directing Staff was so affectionate when the door was closed. You knew that this thing you had going on was more serious than a thing when you stopped being anxious about getting caught and being kicked off the course— instead stressing about John offering his tenderness to another recruit. “If this is how you react to seeing me with a wet shirt and no bra, I’ll dunk myself in that water every damn day.”

In a moment of sobriety, John pulls back to look you in the eye. His aquamarine irises hold a heavy seriousness that makes your breath stall for a moment, afraid you’d said something out of line.

“Love, I completed that whole trainin’ session with a rock hard cock.”

A beat.

Just before peals of laughter burst from you. John rolls his eyes, turning onto his back on the mattress. Still, he’s unable to bite back the smile that pulls on his lips.

cod mwii/kinktober taglist:

@mortallyuniquepeach @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @crybaby-blue-blog @heart-atttack @pansa-1-san @maviee @emotion-no-hot-yes-hotel-trivago @s-u-t @ghostslynx @solidly-indulgent @glitterypirateduck @gummyfang @bii-aan-ckaa @konigsblog @crissteetee @crissteetee67 @sylvanasthebansheequeen @akaym2 @exploremyworldsm @thriving-n-jiving @su57 @cabreezer0117 @cathnoneofyourbusiness @marygraceee @thatchickwiththecamera @legend-o-zelda @eatingtheworldsoffanfiction @tusk89 @bellasbees01 @dog55teeth

@mockerycrow @bubuslutty @cheezitwh0re @haunt3dh3art @levi-llama @thebiscuitsheep @maelstrom007 @alexxavicry @bug-sy-boy @glennrheesworld @kittenfrostt @luvfromkat @blingblong55 @whore4dilfs @wolfyland07 @doggydale @dog55teeth @cabreezer0117 @cathnoneofyourbusiness @marygraceee @thatchickwiththecamera @legend-o-zelda @whore-for-anime @i-love-ghost @cyberpr1m3 @mockerycrow @bubuslutty @lundenloves @cheezitwh0re @haunt3dh3art @babychoi03 @infectedkura @allekat1988 @whore-for-anime @soupbinsoup @passi0np1t @mockerycrow @cyberpr1m3 @i-love-ghost @allekat1988 @infectedkura @babychoi03 @freakquenci @maviee @yunggoblin @sleepystaarr @watyousayin @soupbinsoup @passi0np1t @damn-dean-blog @pheonyxmoon @magicalreviewphantom @limegreenbabx @johfaam0 @iaur @justsayk

@bloodmoon-bites @wiltedwonderland @doggydale @limegreenbabx @namelesshumanperson @ninahhh-brahh

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jobportal07 · 7 months ago

Video

youtube

"Army Ordnance Corps (AOC) Recruitment 2024: Job Roles & Selection Proce...

#youtube #Army Ordnance Corps (AOC) Recruitment 2024: Job Roles & Selection Process Explained आर्मी ऑर्डनेंस कॉर्प्स (AOC) भर्ती 2024 | 723 ग्रुप C पद

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mistydeyes · 2 years ago

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Hi izzie,can you write what it would be like if one of soaps cousins that’s in SAS but often has time to visit the base and is dating 141 members

fem reader preferably

thank you so much for submitting! so sorry it took a hot minute for me to get to this but i hope you enjoy!

the invasion of the scots

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summary: As you walked into the briefing for your latest co-op mission with Task Force 141, all eyes were on you. Usually, this wasn't out of the ordinary as you were one of the first women to complete the full selection process for the SAS and your reputation preceded you. However, this was different as your gaze shifted from your surprised cousin and your terrified boyfriend.

pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x fem!Reader (codename: Peitho)

warnings: SWEARING

┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊

"I'll see you all tomorrow at 08:00 for a briefing," Price announced as everyone exited the training room, "we might see some familiar faces, the SAS is loaning us some of their best." As they all walked to the showers, Soap just happened to be walking with the exhausted Ghost. "Have a cousin in the SAS wonder if she'll be there!" he hummed happily, "haven't seen her in ages." Simon nodded and hoped his suspicions would be wrong tomorrow. He turned on the shower and sat under the cold water for a moment. Out of the handful of women that was in the SAS, the chances of it being you were slim but never 0.

"Hey Peitho, are you ready to meet the renowned 141?" your friend joked as you exited your vehicle. "Just another room of sweaty men, it's like a basic Tuesday for me," you replied and jokingly punched his arm. "But you only hear whispers about these guys, no one doesn't even know how many of them there are." "I'll take my chances, Haystack," you muttered and you continued to follow your captain to the briefing room. As you walked through the linoleum hallways, you could feel the stares everyone was giving you. "Jesus, it's like they've never seen a woman before," you scoffed and Haystack turned to you. "It's not every day someone sees a legend like you." You smiled slightly at his compliment. It had been a few years since your big accomplishment. You and another woman had been the first to ever complete the full selection process. It was daunting to experience the grueling exercises and jeers of the other men but you would smile and take what was thrown at you. "I thought this was selection not a training run for Royal Navy," you'd spit and everyone backed off.

"Play nice," your captain warned before entering the door. You followed right behind him and walked to his right. "As promised Price, here's the best of the best," he announced as he gestured to the four of you. "Here we have, Buccaneer," everyone's gaze turned to the stoic man who stood at 6'7'', his dark hands and arms glistened with taupe-colored, healed scars. "Next there's Typhoon," and again, everyone's eyes shifted to the man who stood shorter than Buccaneer but whose body was pure muscle. He gave a small wave, followed by a crazed smirk. "Next, there's Haystack," your close friend walked forward as his pale skin and bleached hair practically blended into the wall, "got the reputation of being dead weight but he'll be the best combat medic you'll ever need." "Finally," you knew it was your turn and you stood forward, slightly.

You took a look around the room and noticed the men looking back up at you and their files. However, as your eyes drifted to the left, you could feel your eyes widen with recognition. There sat your cousin, you knew he was in the British Army but didn't realize he rose to this caliber. He had a slight smile on his face as he looked at you. However, your familial reunion would have to wait as you looked over at the broad man wearing a face mask. Although his face was obscured, you would recognize his figure and eyes anywhere. In fact, it was the one that was on top of you in bed a month ago. You swallowed as you both locked eyes. Why the fuck was Simon Riley here?

Your revelations were disrupted as your Captain continued his introductions. "We have, Peitho, one of the best women to ever make it out of selection. Don't even try anything with that one, she'll take you out before you can even utter a word," he joked and you nodded at his statement. "I assume you've all seen what they can do, I've given you our best hijacker, weapon specialist, combat medic, and covert operations specialist," he concluded and the floor was all Price's. "Thank you, Captain, they'll do great," he said confidently and the room boomed with his voice, "they can get to know my men on the plane." At this, everyone took a seat. You sat on the opposite end of Simon and Johnny, but you could feel their eyes on you. "Now for the debrief," Price directed and dimmed the lights to illuminate the large monitor on the display.

"I expect you all to review the floor plans our intel has provided," he directed as Sergeant Garrick yawned, "we will be leaving at 06:00 in two days." "Happy reading," Haystack commented as you both walked towards the exit. Before you could leave, Johnny placed a strong arm around your shoulders. "Y/N!" he exclaimed, "Haven't seen you in ages." You smiled up at him and reached a hand to ruffle his short, dark hair. "Pleasure seeing you again," you replied, "you're far from the lad who went to those raves." You both shared a smile as you caught up and exchanged some stories from the last few years. "Your mam said you were in the SAS, but I didn't know you were the one who completed the selection," he continued. "Told her not to brag," you replied, remembering how talkative your mother was especially when it came to her only daughter. Before you could continue, you heard someone clear their throat behind you. You both turned and realized you were blocking the exit for Simon.

"Sorry about that, Simon," you said, almost instinctively. As the words tumbled out of your mouth, you realized the mistake you had made. "Simon?" Johnny questioned and you both knew you were doomed, "Y/N, how do you know Lt?" Fuck. Me. you thought internally as Simon's eyes shot to yours in a panic. "Um, some out-of-office relations," you choked out and before Simon could exit, Johnny grabbed his arm. "You fucking bastard," he muttered, "so this is where you've been spending your leave?" The situation was escalating as Simon escaped his grasp and crossed his arms over his chest. "My personal life is none of your business, Sergeant," he commanded and Johnny balled his hands into tight fists. "It does when it's my cousin!" he practically shouted and you hoped no one could hear the commotion.

"Johnny, calm down," you directed, "I had no idea, Simon even worked with you. It's only been 6 months since we met." Before anyone could continue, Captain Price stopped in the doorway. "Hey!" he boomed, "we have a mission in 36 hours, get on it." You all nodded like scolded children and began to make your way back to your quarters. Before you could part, you gave Simon a quick hug and turned to Johnny. He still had the same angered look on his face and you rolled your eyes. "Get over it, little Johnny boy," you teased at his childhood nickname and he looked away. "Fine, but you know there are serious implications of pumpin' a superior," he mumbled. He walked off and you looked back at Simon. "Surprise, love?" you said almost questioningly before Simon led you to his quarters to “review” the floor plans.

As you sat wedged between Simon and Johnny, you were getting to know Sergeant Garrick or Gaz as he preferred. "So Pietho like the Greek goddess?" he asked and you nodded. "Goddess of persuasion and seduction," you smiled before Simon hit your thigh lightly. "I think I'm gonna be sick," Johnny moaned and Gaz just looked even more confused.

#cod mwii #mw2 imagine #task force 141 #mw2 #simon ghost riley #call of duty #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley angst #madebyizzie #task force 141 x reader #cod x reader #call of duty modern warfare #modern warfare 2 #izzie is writing

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agniveeronlines-blog · 1 year ago

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sharpedgedfool · 1 year ago

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I've ended up doing a full character sheet for each of the season's, I'll probably do the fairies grouped up together as they're not as detailed but this was fun!

Some more extensive lore under the cut!

So the seasons are all personified as these four spirits. They're not considered fae they're more like deities, the fae have their own courts separate but they pay respect to the seasons as they pass - Winter is the season with the least amount of fae present as most of the fairies are spring-born and die before winter and reincarnate every spring again, a select few fae stay alive through winter but their court is rather elusive. Winter is rarely seen in person, and so they are quite mysterious. Most of what people and fae alike know of Winter are only rumours passed around - they are often described to be cold, violent and deadly due to the amount of battles waged over wintertime.

Although Winter is necessary for the other seasons to thrive, they are often targeted by people attempting to kill Winter to save loved ones dying of the cold. They take no pleasure in it, but they've became accustomed to fighting those desperate enough to try, sometimes fighting armies off by themselves. Animal-patron-fae see the benefits of these battles first, the predator animals feed off the remains of the fallen and prey animals are less likely to be targeted in turn. Plant-patron-fae see more prey animals feeding off the berries in spring so they at least have a passive understanding of the events.

Those who know Winter, or know them by their name 'Black Ice', know they deeply care for animals, and do their best to not disturb those hiding away in hibernation and often enjoys the company of the more active animals. They often ride their Stag around in the snow, the two of them are almost inseparable. Wolves, crows and foxes tend to follow them around in case they slay someone and they can pick at the scraps, but they've secretly thrown snowballs around for them when they're playing. Winter fae like mistletoe or holly sometimes pay respect and offer gifts, but Winter doesn't partake in their festivities - they feel like they shouldn't celebrate when many are suffering in his presence.

Winter refuses to abandon their duty and takes pride in their role in the lifecycle, they know the importance of their season, but they are constantly in a state of grief witnessing more death than life. They know most of the people waging war against them aren't trying to take over the season's power (Summer is mostly targeted for this reason, as they're considered a 'good' season and people want their power and position) instead the attackers truly believe they're doing a good thing and are just foolish not malicious. Despite sympathising with them, Winter won't give them mercy or let their guard down, lest they do manage to kill them and throw off everything.

If they were to die, it is unlikely anyone would want to take up the mantle of winter due to it's hated reputation, but a cruel person could use winter to do untold damage and kill Autumn or Spring in the process - even Summer might falter if their heart were too cold to be burned. They knew the previous spirit of Winter when they were mortal. They had grown close, but she was fatally wounded in a battle against a grieving lover and she couldn't bring herself to strike back. The lover escaped unscathed, and Black Ice found her dying in the snow. In her final moments they promised to take her place and protect what she could not. They love the winter with all their heart, but they still struggle to see the beauty in the season, they still see her blood in the snow.

Winter is the eldest season of the current four, but holds great respect for all his three peers - he has never met Summer but trusts they are more than capable. He isn't talkative, and is quite clinical. They arrive and leave punctually and without much conversation with the other seasons, unlike the other three who often enjoy each others company for a few days before moving on.

#oriontag #shadow the hedgehog #fae au

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