#tf 141

[all-purpose-dish-soap]

1.8k / 24 / soap soulmate au, part 4

...

Price takes a seat opposite you. Ghost stands behind him, massive arms crossed. Price folds his hands together.

"Tea?" he asks.

You say nothing.

"Ghost, go get us some tea."

Ghost leaves. Price examines you, drumming his fingers against the table. He acts friendly. But he's not playing. You have no doubt he'll extract the information he needs by any means necessary. You need to make sure he doesn't figure out which of your buttons to press.

"You're Soap's girl," he says.

You say nothing. His stare presses in on you as heavily as the silence, pushing your back into your seat.

"Who is he to you?"

You shift, uncomfortable in your chair. "A stranger." You roll your shoulders as if trying to shrug off the implications. "An enemy, ostensibly."

Price leans closer. "You kiss your enemies often?"

Not until Johnny walked into your patrol path. 

"Left quite the impression on Soap. You made a bit of a mark on Ghost, too. Not that it’s hard." Price leans back, giving you a smile that doesn't reach his eyes. "He’s got a soft spot for Soap, hm? So he doesn't want you hurt. Doesn't want Soap put out."

You remain silent, but it doesn't seem to bother him. He studies you, utterly calm. He's trying to read you. It's obvious he has some kind of game plan, and now he thinks you have one, too.

"Weren't quite planning to walk into someone like him, were you? Things happened, didn't they? Things you had to work through."

"No."

"Really. 'Cause with the way you're acting, I'd wager you had different plans for yourself. Now you're all twisted up in this. Plans got ruined because he came along. Maybe you've got your own plans, hm? Got a whole life back home. A career, clearly. Nice little house. Maybe you've got a boyfriend already."

"What do you want?" you grit out.

"Access, love," he says, like this whole interrogation is just a pleasant chat. That new base of yours, the one Graves commandeered. How do you like it?"

"Barely seen it."

"I imagine you're rather busy lately, then. Lot on your mind. Shepherd must have you working hard." You notice a muscle twitching in his jaw. He has an iron grip on his temper. "But you saw enough of it to get a good look around, hm? The layout, the security, the systems. Tell me about it."

"I don't know anything."

"Nothing?" He leans forward again. He doesn't seem to like that answer. "The security cameras. The guards. The patrols. The sensors." His voice is low. "You don't know anything about those?"

"Didn't ask."

"Hm." His shoulders lift in a slight shrug as the expression on his face hardens further. "You didn't ask." He repeats. "Didn't ask. Didn't ask..." Then he pauses, staring through you. He leans back again. "No, of course not. You follow orders. You do your job. Can't fault you for that." He speaks with a cool tone, but there's a tightness in the lines of his jaw as he says it. "And now you're here and your buddies are gone. Just you. The only target left." He lets the silence stretch out. "Do you think Graves'll come for you?"

"No."

"Hm. Why not?"

"I'm a nobody."

"Hmmmmm." His smile doesn't change, but the lines around his eyes shift as if he finds that amusing. "And you're perfectly content with that? With knowing that when you walk into that base every day, you'll just be another body for Graves to throw onto the heap?”

You hold his gaze. "Yes."

"You don't think you're worth more than that?"

You say nothing.

The smile is still there, but his eyes narrow. He's judging you. Judging your worth. You hold his gaze. He seems to recognize something in you--that you're telling the truth. You know what you are. You're a mercenary. You're expendable.

"You must have a low opinion of yourself." He sighs, crossing his arms and settling a little further into his chair. "You've accepted you're not walking out of this base, then."

You nod.

Price examines you, eyes narrow and intense. Peeling you apart. You're certainly not an idiot. Smart enough to know you're expendable; loyal enough to take orders, keep your mouth shut, and follow through without asking questions. Not the type of soldier he prefers, but in the right hands, you'd be lethal.

Tough to crack, too. He rubs his chin. Hard to threaten someone who doesn't have anything to lose.

Two sharp knocks on the door herald Ghost, who slips back inside and closes the door. He's not carrying tea.

"Might want to pick up the pace," Ghost says. "Soap's back."

You stiffen, as much as you try not to show it.

Price's gaze flicks over to you, noting the tensing of your shoulders. "He knows?"

"Affirmative, sir. Someone outside must've seen her mark and tipped him off."

At that moment, there's a banging on the door. Johnny's voice echoes from the other side. "LT!"

Hearing it is a punch to the gut.

Soap keeps knocking. "Ghost, get yer lyin' arse out here!"

Price looks at Ghost and nods toward the door. "Go on, then, handle it."

Ghost curses under his breath and slips outside.

"Hell's fuckin' bells, LT, what's goin' on?"

Ghost's reply is too low and muffled to catch.

"Busy with what?" Soap snaps. "I know she's here. I need to see her."

Ghost's reply this time sounds harsher.

"Like hell I'm not. That's my goddamned soulmate, aye? My girl. I've got a right to see her. You'll not keep me from the one person in the whole bloody world that's mine."

"Captain's interrogating her." Ghost's tone is low and loud now, a warning. "You don't get special privileges with her."

Soap lets loose a string of colorful curses. You can make out roughly half of them through his accent. "What does Price think she's got that's so bloody important I don't get to know about it?"

"She's a Shadow, Johnny. Chrissake."

"Aye, an' she's in that room goin' it alone. She needs me."

Your heart twists in your chest, and it forces out a breath you didn't know you were holding. It's eating at your resolve. Just hearing him speak about you is making you want things you shouldn't. He sounds like he wants to protect you. Like you're worth something to him. You try to shake it out of your head. You're a prisoner here. This isn't a love story. He doesn’t love you. He doesn't know you.

Then you look up, and your blood goes cold. Price is staring at you, and he's smirking.

His eyes move over you, dissecting you piece by piece, and you feel your expression revealing too much. He saw your mask slip. He saw what you're concealing.

"I'll be damned." His smirk grows. "I thought Shadows were all cold-blooded bastards."

Your mouth twitches like it wants to bare teeth. "Go to hell."

"Ghost," he calls mildly at the closed door, "get in here. And bring Soap, would you?"

No no no no. Panic washes over you. You pull at your cuffs, feeling yourself lapse into a freeze response. Not Johnny. You can't face him. You try desperately to get a grip on your body's reaction, to remember your training.

You turn your head away from the door and fix your eyes on the opposite corner of the room. Among the many rifles and launchers racked on the walls, you find a pistol and you concentrate on it as hard as you can. You study the polish smudged near the mouth of the barrel. The scarred grip.

Behind you, the door opens.

Soap is across the room in moments. He kneels next to you, his hands falling to your arm, to your shoulder, your neck. His thumb brushes across one of the many cuts on your cheek.

You feel outside of yourself. Soap seems too fixated on your state of being to notice.

"Jesus fuckin' Christ. What did you rat bastards do to my girl?" he growls.

"She did this to herself," Ghost says. He puts his hand on Soap's shoulder. "And we need her restrained while we question her--"

"Back off," Soap warns, brushing his hand away. "Am not dealin' with you right now."

Price cuts in, voice firm. "Soap, cool off. Now."

Soap's temper flashes hot. His jaw clenches. His muscles tense. But he takes a deep, steadying breath. "Aye, Captain," Soap says. He straightens up, his hands falling away from your face. But it's clear his blood is still simmering. "Permission to remove her cuffs."

"Negative," Price says. Soap starts to say something, but Price cuts him off. "No. She's unpredictable. You know that as well as we do. We can't afford to trust her until we understand what Graves' orders are."

Soap curls and uncurls his fists, evidence of the sheer will he's exerting to keep his feet planted where they are. "And what do you expect me to do? Just leave her here? Not say a word to her?"

That smirk curls Price's lips again. "Quite the opposite. I'd like you to do the talking for us."

Price stands and gestures to Ghost again, and Ghost guides Soap by the shoulder over to him. Soap resists on principle for a moment before his mind catches up and he walks stiffly to the other side of the table.

“She has information we need," Price says. "Alejandro, remember? Once that's squared away, we'll need no hostage. You understand me?"

There's a beat of silence.

"You want me to interrogate her," Soap says.

"I want access," Price replies.

"And once I have the information?"

"Then she’s all yours. You can do whatever you like. Let her go. Hell, drive her to the airport if you want. But until then" --Price's hand lands on Soap's shoulder and pushes him down into the interrogator's seat across from you-- "she doesn't leave this room. You understand?"

You feel Soap's eyes on you.

"Fine. I'll do it. But it's gotta be me and her. No one else. You let me do my job the way I know it needs to be done."

"Hm." Price glances at you. You're still concentrating on the pistol on the far wall. "That's just fine. Ghost, let's give 'em some time alone."

Ghost follows Price out of the room, closing and locking the door behind them.

"Sir?" Ghost's voice is low and uncertain.

"Trust me, Soap is the leverage we needed. He'll do just fine.”

Ghost is quiet for a moment. "If he keeps his head on straight."

Price hums in agreement, his smile genuine now. "If he keeps his head on straight."

...

part 1 / part 2 / part 3 / [part 4] / part 5

more Soap / masterlist tag

[briefalpacashark]

Insults

================================================

141 walks into a bar. There are well known.

"Look it's the brits,"

Y/N and Jonny: *Argast, repulsed, deeply offended gasps of shock*

[hauntedbubbles]

That's my boys!

[theywhowriteandknowthings]

Tf141 and you taking a bubble bath.

Minors DNI 18+ content but not super explicit.

Gaz, Ghost, Soap, Price, Laswell (reader is AFAB/has a vagina)

Gaz gets in the tub with you, insisting on laying you back against his chest while he cops a feel helps you wash. He almost always ends up convincing you to ride him while he plays with your clit.

Ghost leaves you to it but sends you messages frequently asking if you need anything. Top up of your drink? A snack? A magazine? His dick? (He gets horny over your soapy body in the tub, so he keeps making excuses to come and check in on you)

Soap sits on the floor next to the tub and talks to you about your day. Constantly feeling you up whenever he can. He loves just burying his fingers inside you as you soak. He would get in the tub with you but doesn’t like sitting still in hot water that long. He just likes seeing you all flushed and blissed out. If he can make you come on his fingers while you relax, well that’s just a bonus.

John helps you shave and washes your back from outside the tub. He sometimes gets in with you but his broad frame is so large he’s often just a little cramped. He shampoos and conditions your hair (or just gives you massages if that’s more appropriate). He just enjoys the quiet and the intimacy bathing brings you both.

Kate sits at the other end of the tub, both of you doing your own thing while trading touches under the water. It’s a shared pleasure of yours as you just let the stress melt away. You almost always end up with one of you straddling the other sharing tender kisses before you relent and fuck each other senseless in bed soon after.

[vixen7243]

Undivided Attention

Simon 'Ghost' Riley x AFAB!Reader | TF141 x AFAB!Reader

Masterlist | Gaz | Price | Ghost

MDNI!!!

A month had gone by since you had last leaved the base with the team, sitting in the clinic attending to minor injuries of other soldiers you waited for them to return from a quick lead on their mission. You didn't question or inquiry on whether or not you could come, you knew better and knew that with everything in John, you wouldn't even have a second to ask. So, you walked them to the helicopter, and when things were clear you kissed each of them farewell, telling them to be careful and please come back in one piece. Watching them leave was always hard, you felt helpless at times but knew they felt better with you safe at the base waiting for them.

So, here you were, waiting for them like a little damsel, taking care of the rec room cleaning it up, sorting their rooms, being a little careful in Simon's room, even though he says he appreciates it he's always a little tense when you do it. Checking the clocks as you went to each room, doing little things here and there till you looked out the window and saw Nikolai's helicopter over head. Quickly making your way to the landing pad you were smiling before seeing Simon limping out of the helicopter, rushing to him you started rapid firing questions of what happened, what hurts and before he could answer anything you decided to just guide him and the others to your office at the clinic. First checking Gaz and Soap you felt better seeing that they didn't have any major injuries, just a few scrapes here and there, couple new bruises. Then checking John you checked off few bruises before clearing them and sending them on their way, turning to Ghost you stepped in front of him, "Your turn lieutenant, can you stand for me?"

Grunting, Ghost stood up, eyes softening looking down at you as your fingers slowly undid belts and restraints taking of his vest, holsters and anything else to properly check him over. Tensing every now and then as you gently pushed along his ribs, squeezed his arms and legs, "Don't need to make excuses to cop-a-feel love, just say you've missed me."

Glaring up at him from your squatted position in front of him, you stood up, "I did miss you, but you limped out of the helicopter. If you missed me so much, you should just say it, not pretend to be hurt." Crossing you arms you pouted as he chuckled leaning back against your desk, he grabbed your left bicep and gently pulled you to him, letting you step between his legs.

"You're right love, but I did bang up my knee, it'll be fine though, nothing serious. Did miss you though, truly." Clicking your tongue you rolled your eyes and rested your hands on his chest. His hand swept across your cheek, feather light as he leaned down resting his forehead on yours. "Was a rough few days without you." His voice was hushed, his breath fanning across your face.

Sliding your hands up to rest at the nape of his neck you nudged your nose to his, "I know, was hard around here too. I'm happy you guys came back fine, even if you wanted my attention bad enough to up play your knee." You teased smirking as you kissed him gently. "My big strong lieutenant just needs to be coddled sometimes huh?" Your voice dripped honey as you felt him lean into you, body melting into you. "Want to go back to the barracks? Get you cleaned and rested?" Feeling him nod against you, you squeezed his shoulders a few times before sitting him up, he loosely put his things back on, and following you out of your office went back to the barracks, getting into the rec room he snaked his arms around your waist becoming a lump against your back as you went to his room, pushing it open you closed and locked the door. Helping him again take everything off, taking clothes off piece by piece off of you and him you guys stepped into his bathroom, pushing him against his sink, you turned to his shower turning the water on and held your hand under the running water till the temp was just right, turning around you held your hand out to him, bringing him into the shower you kept him under the water, lathering up a wash clothe with soap you started wiping him down.

Being mindful of his ribs which are always sensitive you kissed the new cuts and bruises his skin and muscles flexing under your lips. "Oh Simon, you get more beautiful every time I see you." Your hands rested on his stomach, as corded as his muscles were on his arms and shoulders, your mind always clouded when you could rest against his soft stomach, just like John. Looking up at him, his hazel eyes looking softly at you as he scowled.

"Why do you insist on saying that?"

Smiling you washed away the soap from his body before cupping his cheeks, "Because it's true. You refuse to say it, but we'll change that." As he scrunched up his eye brows you turned the water off and guided him out of the shower, drying the two of you off you brought him to his bed laying him in it. Straddling him, you rubbed his chest, shoulders and arms, "Simon." Looking down into his eyes you smiled sweetly at him. "My sweet, pretty Simon." He tried to look away from you as his cheeks warmed up, a blush dusting his cheeks and ears. Getting a hold of his chin, you turned him to look back at you, "Pretty, sweet, obedient Simon. Don't look away, this is all for my good boy." Feeling his hands squeeze your hips you smiled more laying flat on his chest leaving feather light sweet, addictive kisses all over his face and neck. "Tell me how pretty my boy is." Grunting Simon closed his eyes, huffing he shook his head. "Tell me how good of a man you are, how you are so amazing, kind hearted, loving. I want you to tell me Si."

"I-" Taking a deep breath as you let go of his chin to slide your hand to the base of his neck. "I'm pretty." He was so quiet, race hot and red as he looked at you.

"Louder."

Swallowing when your fingers dug into the side of his neck he moaned, "I'm your pretty boy. I'm a good man." He pushed his hips up to you as you slowly moved your hips against his cock. "I'm yours, I do everything to take care of you and the team. I'm a good man."

"Such a good boy Si. You do so much for everyone, I am so proud of you, we all are." Sliding your hand between your bodies, you pushed up and started slowly jerking your hand along his length. "Tell me how pretty you are."

Clenching his jaw he focused his eyes on your moving hand, his cock twitching, "Fuck, I'm your pretty boy. I am not less than. My scars aren't... urgh... aren't a bad thing." Feeling his eyes blur with tears he tried turning his head away but you stopped your movement making him huff.

"No looking away baby, come on. Focus on me." As he looked back at you, you moved your hand along him again, "Good boy. You're so beautiful Si, take my breath away every time I even glance at you. You're so perfect, I don't know how you can't see it." Feeling his hips start to thrust up to meet your hand you smiled letting him chase his high. "You going to cum baby. Want to feel good? Go ahead, use my hand." Taking a few minutes to continue praising him and moving your had faster as his hips would stutter you bit your lip as he ejaculated onto your hand and his stomach, his whines filling the room, desperate begging you to keep going.

"No, don't stop, please, keep going. Fuck, please, love, I'm your pretty boy, please I'm everything you said, all of it. Just don't stop." Moving your hips and sitting your cunny along his twitching cock he grunted as you started dragging yourself along him moaning with him as your arousal started coating him, his cum on his pudgy tummy sticking to your pelvic. "So good, don't stop love."

"My sweet boy Simon, so good. So proud of you, you looked so beautiful cumming, I want you to cum again for me."

"I will, fuck I will, just for you love urgh just don't stop." Huffing as he looked down he whimpered, making your cunt clench around nothing at the sound. His hands trailed up and groped at your breasts, "Ride me properly love. I want to be inside of you, please."

Shifting up a little, you lined him up and settled down on him clenching as each thick inch slid in. Moaned as he was buried in to the hilt you pushed your hands into his stomach and started slowly bouncing on him. Swiping a finger through his cum you looked up at his tear stained cheeks, whimpers spilling from his lips as his eyes rolled back. Setting you finger against his lip, he looked down then up at you sucking your finger into his mouth grunted as you pushed down against him flesh, grinding against him. Clenching around him you moaned leaning down over him as he bent his knees and started thrusting up into you, "Good boy, so good. I'm going to cum Si. Make me cum." As he whine he flipped the two of you over and pulled out before sliding down your body.

"Cum on my tongue first love." Slotting his lips around your clit you moaned spreading your legs wider for him huffing as you looked down at him.

"You're such a good boy Si, fuck, you don't have to - oh god- you don't have to do this. Just cum in me Si." Shaking his head against your clit you moaned sliding your fingers through his hair and pulling him close to you. Squeezing your thighs around his head you whimpered tensing, arching up cumming against his tongue that slid into you slurping your arousal up. Sitting up he lined back up with your entrance and pushed in deep whines vibrating from his throat as he did shallow thrusts into you, rocking the both of you, the bed creaking under the two of you, his whines built up, your moans pushing him on, feeling himself on the brink of cumming but feeling needy he buried his head into your neck as you wrapped your limbs around him. "My pretty lieutenant, you going to cum? Do it, I'm right behind you baby. Sweet pretty boy, fuck, do it, cum, Now." His tears hitting your shoulder as he came moaning into you his hips lost their rhythm as you clamped down around him, walls fluttering, milking him. As he let his full body weight lay limp over you, you kissed the side of his face, neck and shoulder. Whatever you could reach you kissed and rubbed, soothing him as he huffed and sniffled. He would sooner shoot himself then ever let another living soul see him like this, you just so easily drew out the most vulnerable side of him out, you will always be his safe place, his haven, his person.

"I'll move." His voice was hoarse and quiet as he started moving but you tightened your hold onto him.

"It's fine baby, just stay right here, catch your breath, relax. I'm fine right here, happy even." Cupping his check wiping them you smiled back at him as he nuzzled into it, kissing your palm.

"You are something else love. I'll never understand why you treat us all so kindly like you do, but I'll do everything I can to make sure I am truly even slightly worth everything you give to me." Kissing your nose then your lips, and then rested his head on your chest as you combed his hair back smiling, holding him close as his breathing evened out you closed your eyes before also falling asleep.

😫😫😫🥰🥰🥰 Subby sweet SIMON!! He's got a choke hold on me, he might seem like a good candidate to be having rough rumpling but this man always looks tired, he's going to be sweet, pathetic and needy for us. Hope ya'll enjoyed as mush as I did!😘

[princessdimondheart]

That Time of the Month | TF-141 x Reader

Pairing: TF-141 + f! Reader

Summary: Reader is on her period.

WC: 447

Warnings: Mentions of periods/blood, cramps, etc., these boys are a lil dumb lol, 🥺

Edited: No

A/N: It’s that time of the month so I wrote this little fic. It’s so short! 😭 Sorry for not posting… procrastination and a new puppy does that to you… ((should I post a pic of her?)) I’m also getting another puppy soon so yeeeaaahhhh….. 😅 New banner… what do you think? I’m not sure if I like it that much… 🤷‍♀️

Masterlist

Character banner ©️ Me

She made it a few steps off the ramp of the plane before she doubled over in pain. Catching herself on Ghost’s sleeve before she fell to the ground. A major cramp twisting her insides. Sweat from a long mission and hot flashes sticking her clothes to her body in an uncomfortable way, yet she was used to the sensation. 

“Gah!” She gritted her teeth. 

The men whipped their heads to look at her with concern. Ghost’s hand grabbed her elbow, stabilizing her. 

“Lass, are ya alright?” Johnny frowned when she didn’t respond. 

“Oi! You should have mentioned being hurt!” Came Price’s gruff voice. He walked closer to her with his arm stretched out to hold onto her shoulder. 

They all started to crowd her. Poking and prodding. Even Ghost was unlatching her gear to remove it and find where she was hurting. She swatted their intrusive hands away. 

“Where’s the blood?” Gaz asked, ducking a little to look at her stomach area where she had clutched in pain earlier. 

She chuckled before full on belly laughing. The sudden cramp fading away. The boys glared at her for taking her injuries lightly. 

“Oh, Gaz…” She patted the soft skin of his cheek. 

He looked at her confused, his bottom lip puffing out in a little pout. 

She gave them all a once over. Looking at their expectant faces before grinning softly. 

“Between my legs.” She said before walking off and leaving them to stew in her words in shock. 

….

“So, yous went through all tha’ on the mission while on your period!?” Johnny practically yelled. 

They had all changed and were in the rec room. 

“Yes, and dealt with the cramps too. I forgot to take a pain relief pill. Felt like I was gonna keel over for a minute. Haha.” She scratched the back of her head awkwardly. It’s not often she talked about her period with her coworkers, much less her male teammates. “I hate it when missions line up with that time of the month… but, there’s nothing I can do about it.” 

They stared at her. 

“What?” She looked between them. “I’ve had my period since I was eleven… Those weren’t even the worst cramps I’ve had. One time it was so bad that I threw up and passed out.”

“And all because I didn’t get pregnant. Shit.” She couldn’t hold back a grin, stifling her laugh. 

If their eyes could bulge further out of their eye sockets, then they’d be flying. 

Bonus: 

“Is there any way to help you with your cramps?” 

She thought about it for a moment and then hesitantly stuck her hand out to him. 

“Give me your hand.”

Masterlist

[penelopepine]

Don't be a stranger!

Part 1

Simon "Ghost" Riley x FemReader

Content: Neighbors AU, fluff, developing relationship

Summary:

“Coming! Just one moment!” The voice calls out. Simon is quick to adjust his stance trying to make himself appear less intimidating as he could before the door is suddenly swung open. 

That was when he saw you. 

-

Returning to his flat was never easy for Simon; it was always dark, cold, and empty. It was harder to distract himself while he was here than it was back at the base where there was always something that needed to be done.

The one good thing about this place was that the neighbors were generally alright when he was here.  No one was ever being especially loud; allowing Simon to silently drown himself in whiskey and sorrow. 

Which is why he was confused when the neighbor to the right of him couldn’t seem to stop causing a ruckus. The whole morning has been filled with muffled curses and the sounds of things being dragged about. 

He vaguely starts to recall talk of that flat being open soon. This must be the new guy then; from the sounds of it they just moved in within the last few days. 

Damn his leave couldn’t have fallen just a week later when they were already settled in?

Simon tried to ignore them he really did, but there are only so many times one can hear an exasperated “god dammit” through the walls followed by an annoying screeching or banging sound. If something needed to be moved he'd move it himself and put everyone out of their misery. 

Which is why he was here now standing in front of his neighbor’s door. He had confidently stormed out of his flat, but now that he was standing in front of yours he admittedly wasn’t sure if he should knock or not. He didn’t want to, but at the same time your noise level was starting to grate on him. 

After a few minutes of silence from the flat he was about to turn around and leave them be. 

“Fuck!” A feminine voice calls out from behind the door. 

“Never mind” Simon thinks to himself, and knocks on the door. f

“Coming! Just one moment!” The voice calls out. Simon is quick to adjust his stance trying to make himself appear less intimidating as he could before the door is suddenly swung open. 

That was when he saw you. 

You took his breath away. Standing there face slightly red and clearly still in your pajamas; you looked beautiful.

“Hello…?” 

Right. He was here to see why you had been making so much noise all morning; not to just look at you. Even if that is all he wanted to do now. “Is there anything you need help with? I’ve been hearing you all morning.” Simon clears his throat, “I’m your next door neighbor.”

The red in your face only continues to grow the more he talks. “Oh! I'm so sorry- I just moved in and I’m trying to organize everything! I didn’t realize you could hear me.” You also tell him your name. He feels as if he could listen to you talk for hours. 

“I’m…I’m Simon, and it’s no worries. This building is old and the walls aren’t the thickest; I can try and help though with whatever is causing you so much trouble.” 

“I couldn’t ask that of you; I’ll quiet down-.”

“It’s no problem.” 

You seem hesitant to accept his help; which looking at the situation makes a lot of sense. Here is a strange man essentially asking to be let into your place. Simon clears his throat and continues, “I’m the door to the right,” tilting his head towards his own door, “Feel free to knock if you change your mind.” Simon then turns and begins to walk away not wanting you to think he’s some kind of creep. 

“Wait!” You call out to him, “If it’s really alright, I could use some help moving some things.” 

“I wouldn’t have asked if it wasn’t alright.” 

With that you open the door to let him inside, “Uh welcome in then; don’t mind the mess I’m still in moving chaos mode.” 

Stepping inside your flat layout seemed to match his perfectly. Your living room was filled with half opened boxes. Simon tried to give you a reassuring smile, “Just tell me what you need me to do, love.” 

Before he knew it he had unintentionally spent most of the day with you. Which unfortunately led him standing where he once stood merely hours ago now saying goodbye.

“Don’t be a stranger!” You say smiling up at him before finally closing the door. Leaving Simon standing in the hallway wishing that he didn’t have to leave. 

-

It’s crazy to Simon how something as simply knocking on your door can lead to this. After the day he helped you settle into your flat it seemed like the two of you were doing everything together; even unintentional things. 

First, he had just stepped out his door planning to go on his usual morning walk. Which of course as soon as he had stepped out of the building there you were. Standing on the sidewalk messing with your bag. Simon had debated if he should say anything to you, or simply continue as he was. That choice was quickly taken from him though when you had looked up and saw him. The smile that bloomed on your face was all it took to draw himself to your side. 

“Simon! It’s good to see you; what are you doing?” 

“I could ask you the same; I’m just going on a walk.” Should he ask you to join him?

“Sounds better than what I’m doing, on my way to work right now myself.” You gesture with your left hand down the street. Assumingly in the direction of the way you're going. 

Simon had to decide here and now what to do. He himself usually walks the same direction as you. He can simply say goodby right now and walk in the opposite direction, or he can take a chance. “I’m going the same way. We can walk together if you want.” 

“I’d like that!” That smile you give him is making Simon think he’s slowly losing his mind. 

Of course this event led to Simon walking you to work every morning. Enjoying the calm air and each other's company. 

Next, after a few days of walking you to work, you had invited him over for dinner.

“You’ve helped me so much with my flat it’s the least I could do.” 

“You don’t have to repay me for that love.” In all honesty he would love to have you make him a home cooked meal, but it worried him how much he was already enjoying your company. Simon was scared to get any closer to you. He couldn’t say no though when listening to you ask so nicely for his presence. 

One meal turned into two, then three. Until finally you and Simon were having dinner together every couple days. 

He had to admit that things were moving fast when it came to you, but at the same time he didn’t feel as if he was drowning with you. It feels strangely natural to be around you.

Having you here made it easier for him to pretend that all was good; that you were his. For the first time in a long time coming home didn’t have to mean being alone anymore. It’s a shame that he’s leaving in just a few weeks.

[arian-velikan]

Interesting quotes the series

2009 Ghost: If I was a bird I'd know who to shit on

Roach: Sometimes even the devil on my shoulder asks what the fuck I am doing :3

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

2022 Ghost: Hey jawny

2022 Soap: yes Lt?

2022 Ghost: Do you know what a microwave is?

2022 Soap: the small oven where you can heat up things? *looking confused*

2022 Ghost: no, its..when a short person waves at you. *looking at him with that serious tone and face of his*

2022 Soap: *looking defeat and sighing* its supposed to be me, isnt it?

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

Price to Nikolai: maybe you should eat some makeup to look better *does his ":>" smile*

[all-purpose-dish-soap]

lowkey I kinda wanna top gaz or ghost out of curiosity on how they would react 🤔

gaz or ghost? gaz AND ghost. ranked competitive sex. the ol' good cock/bad cock.

they're both confident almost cocky but they show it very differently.

you tell gaz you wanna be on top this time.

"i'm fine with that," he says.

cool cool cool. easy. too easy, in fact.

he's smiling at you. "you want to be on top, you're on top." he says. "easy as."

so... you get to be the dominant one this time. he knows that's what you mean. right?

mm, harder sell. you wanna do his job? you're gonna need to prove you have what it takes. you're gonna have to work for it. talk like you mean it. don't whine, don't ask, don't just tell him what to do. command him. 

and don't mess up.

nsfw ⬇

order him to take his clothes off. top him like you mean it--bounce on him like you don't need any help, because he's not helping you. and control yourself. edge him. don't show weakness. make him keep his eyes on you. keep his interest with your body, your voice, your tone.

(it's tough for him, feigning such precarious half-interest. pretending like you don't have a visegrip on his every atom. pretending like he's not suddenly understanding how it might feel to be possessed by a succubus. it's tough, but he's soldiering through because he's a great fucking teacher. this is good for you, you just don't know it yet.)

he's teaching you to use your whole body to tell him you're in charge. you need to make the rules.

if you don't--if you slip up--he'll make you sorry. he'll give you a crash course in how a mean dom operates.

(you might be able to collar him, but god help you if you fumble. the second you do, that o-ring choker is going on your neck, and his thumb is already hooked in.)

ghost--

ghost is a little easier to entice. he's a visual guy. he's a little smitten with anyone who approaches him first. you're offering to top him? to put your whole damn body on display? that's an act of service, baby.

even if you're doing it because you want to control the pace and the position, even if you want to take your own pleasure and act like you don't give a damn about his... you're still giving him exactly what he wants. if all he needs to do is lay back and shut up, he'll play your game.

not a tough job, either. not half bad. he could get used to this. nope, he's already used to it. he's thinking ahead--wondering what other dirty fantasies in that pretty head he could help fulfill.

then he shifts his hips down an inch to hit your sweet spot. you snap at him not to move. 

his eyes flick up--from your hole squeezing his cock--to your face. strange sense of whiplash you're giving him--the instant flip from almost ignoring him to focusing squarely on him. negative attention or not, it's arousing. you shouldn't have done that.

"yeah?" he replies, voice low and rough. "you gonna make me?"

you don't have time to reply before he's shoving his hips up into you hard. one stroke, then two, then more, so slow and hard and deep your vision threatens to go white. 

he's challenging you to keep ignoring him now. 

"say it again," he growls. "tell me what to do one more time."

he reaches for your clit, and you fight him, grabbing his wrist, using it as leverage to sink down on him again, redoubling your pace. 

you're both fighting to stay in control. ghost could overpower you easily but he's having fun. and you're putting on a hell of a show for him.

he'll contend with your attitude later. for now he just wants to keep you pissed off and horny enough to keep riding him like you've got something to prove.

riding ghost and gaz together...

you just know they're both talking at you, trying to get your attention as you fight like hell not to fall apart.

gaz is instructing you to sit up straighter, to clench your thighs so they don't shake, to control your voice--or keep it up, sweetheart. keep moaning like a slut if you want to be treated like one. 

ghost is egging you on, enjoying how furious you're getting, how it makes you clench up and stutter when gaz says something that really gets to you. he tosses in his lot every so often to keep things going. like throwing a lit match into a pit of black powder and lead azide.

you're doomed. until.

you tell ghost to move his hands already so gaz can maneuver you by the hips instead. 

that turns them against one another in negative two seconds.

suddenly they're critiquing each other. gaz smugly insinuates you're enjoying his technique more. ghost replies smoothly that it hardly matters to him; it's his attention you're after.

their back-and-forth gives you the precious time you need to clear your head. once you can finally fucking concentrate, you can push past all this edging you've been put through by stupid competition they've been having on you.

they keep one-upping each other and only half-notice what you're up to--until you throw your head back and make a sound of pure rapture, riding them both to completion. you throw yourself into the best orgasm of your recent life.

they're dead silent as you come down, grinding your hips in bliss as the final sparks of pleasure fizzle under your skin.

it sort of humbles them. but then again, it also inflates both their egos just enough to keep them from learning their goddamn lesson.

...

more Gaz / more Ghost / more multi-141 and poly 141 / masterlist tag

[soupyoupyoupy]

Price riding bicycle

His Pricycle...

[arealasstree]

[birdythebirdthing]

[Name] who's sign name is bird and smokes cigarette lot like price.

One day..

In group chat..

[Name] : my cigarettes are missing! Price do you have some! Cause I'm dying!

Price : cigarette again? It was just few minutes you smoked [Name]!

Gaz: stop smoking too much [Name] or you'll have lung cancer.

Soap: or you will be like this bird

*Soap and upload a picture*

Ghost: wow, that's [Name]

[Name]: where did you get this!?

[loveindefinitely]

task force 141 with a controversially young civilian girlfriend.

-> mentions of large age-gaps, referenced sexual content, alcohol use. afab!fem!reader. minor dubcon (everyone's drunk.)

thinking that you're studying in uni. working on the side to try and afford rent and, if you're lucky, some noodles every other night. you don't really get seen compared to your friends, who go out clubbing and spend their spare time on dating apps.

one time, your friend drags you to a bar. not usually your scene, considering its clientele is more for tradies, and military-type men. not like the stuck-up blue collar boys at your uni.

cue you getting drunk off your ass, barely even standing, when you bump into one johhny mactavish.

he holds your elbows, your chest crashing into his. gentle with it, too -- kind and sweet and grounding.

"y'alright, lass?" he asks, a small smirk on his face, eyes darting across your frame greedily. he, in all fairness, looks nearly as drunk as you. he stumbles a little with your weight.

you giggle, tilting your head to look at him. say something stupid like, "you don't look like a student."

his brows raise, his dimples deepen. "aye, very smart, hen."

you preen with the compliment, a cheesy grin stuck to your face. you make no move to stand up and leave. you think your friend just left with a guy anyways.

johnny moves you, muscled arm around your waist as he takes you to a booth.

three other men sit in it, only one looking somewhere in a ten-year age bracket to you. they're all impossibly large, filling out the space with ease. your stomach swoops, but you easily blame the alcohol.

manoeuvring you so you sit in his lap, johnny's hand is a comforting weight on your waist. he huffs a laugh.

"didn't realise we were goin' for jailbait, soap," the youngest one chimes, dark features shining in the pub's dim light. his eyes trail your frame silkily.

you can't stop the roll of your eyes -- your inhibitions have made you senseless. "'m not, 'm completely," you drag out the syllables, "legal."

a hand on your thigh makes you jolt, and when you look over, a blonde man with a black medical mask raises an unimpressed brow. "got a problem, kid?"

you shoot him a weak glare. "not a kid. weirdo."

the arm around your waist tightens, as does the weirdo's hand encompassing your thigh.

"not scared of anythin', are you darl'?" the final man in the booth asks, hands folded together where they rest at the table. he looks at least double your age, and that simple fact along with his drawling words has your core tightening.

"what's there to be scared of?" you ask, stupidly. your head tilts to the side, unknowingly moving to rest on johnny's shoulder. he doesn't comment.

"miss bein' young and drunk," gaz sighs, hand softly gripping the gin sat on the table in front of him.

"you look young," your brows furrow, not understanding. how old could he really be, to act so nostalgic of your current predicament? "how old are you guys?"

it's an embarrassing question -- makes you feel like a child all over again. but your interest is quickly peaking, and your need for answers overpowers your need for decorum.

johnny's the one to answer, his lips brushing your ear as he whispers.

"gaz, the pretty one over there, he's twenty-eight," he murmurs, heat stirring low in your gut as you nod mindlessly, meeting gaz's eyes.

johnny stokes his thumb over the skin of your hip, and you curl into him further -- stranger be damned.

"i'm thirty," he hums, and god, he sounds so fucking sensual you're about to melt into his arms. if you aren't already.

"the guy in the mask?" said man's hand tightens impossibly against your skin, fingers just shy of grazing your aching pussy, "he's thirty-seven. got a lot of experience, aye?"

you shudder.

"what about you?" you end up voicing, shyly meeting the last man's gaze. he takes a slow sip of his whiskey.

he leans back into the cushion, eyeing you carefully.

"forty-three."

your thighs squeeze together, and fuck, if that's not a turn-on. no matter how unsafe you should feel, surrounded by four military-grade, older men, it only manages to have you wet beyond belief.

all you can manage is one question.

"take me home?"

[criminalamnesia]

Simon x Reader whose already work with TF 141 for a pretty long time. And one day, there's a traitor around the base, leaking their information. All of the proof are leading to reader but reader always deny it! And they interrogated reader, and reader always deny it! And he's (with other 141 members, of course, but it mostly him) do their torture methods to get information out of reader. They keep doing it until someday, the real traitor finally captured!

And make the reader traumatized, pls. Like, she would have trust issues, trauma, and others. She wouldn't forgive them, tho.

ooooo the angst. had to sit on this one for a few days before I wrote something, but here goes nothing.

ALL PARTS CAN BE FOUND HERE

when you blink open your eyes, the room is dimly lit. it’s silent save for the sounds of your labored breathing.

you must’ve passed out. one second johnny— a man you’d known for years—was slicing into your skin with a knife. the next, you’re staring into an empty room.

your hands jerk up involuntarily. still bound. the rope holding them to the arms of the chair have rubbed them raw. the skin is bright red and bloody. it makes you grit your teeth.

you look down at your lap, taking inventory of the parts of your body you can see. large gashes break up the fabric of your tac pants. the blood surrounding the deep wounds is dry and crusty.

one of the cuts looks like it’s getting infected. you swear you can see bone.

you’d taken this kind of suffering before. been capture by enemies, held and tortured and pushed to the brink of death. this was different. this was being done by your team. men you’d bled with. cried with. laughed with.

one you’d even slept with. the same one you loved. the one you called yours.

the door to the room swung open, hitting the wall with a metal thud. your head slowly lifts, eyes squinting to see him. by his stature, you know it’s simon.

he doesn’t bother shutting the door behind him. instead, he walks towards you slowly. as he comes closer, can make out his eyes in the sea of dark paint he smears around them. the same paint you’d helped him apply a time or two.

“back for more?” you say, and it’s meant to sound sarcastic, but all it sounds like is pitiful. your voice cracks, and pain seeps into your tone.

the first rule they’d taught you about scenarios like this was to never let the enemy know it’s working. never let them know that they’re hurting you— that they’re slowly wearing down your defenses.

well, you’d just broken that rule, and you hadn’t even meant to.

you didn’t know how long you’d been tied up, subjected to torture by men you had once called your family. all because a fucking liar whispered your name into their ears. all because they fucking believed it.

apparently the years meant nothing to them. to him, least of all, considering he’d done more damage to you than the rest of them.

simon comes to a stop in front of you. his hands are empty by his sides, but that’s not reassuring. there’s a table full of weapons off to the side. he would have his pick of the litter.

“ready to talk yet?” he says, and his voice is gruff. his tone is hollow. he’s speaking to you the same way he’d spoken to countless enemies. it makes you sick.

“fuck you, simon,” you spit out.

the betrayal of john, gaz, and johnny had hurt. but simon’s betrayal? that was enough to almost put you in the ground.

you’d stopped pleading with them the second they tied you to the chair. now, you were angry. furious. rage filled your veins, and if you weren’t beaten to all hell, you’d find a way out of these fucking restraints and strangle the man in front of you to death.

the man you loved. you’d thought you meant something to him, but apparently not— because who tortures someone they love?

“if you talk,” he ignores your outburst. “it’ll be easier. quick.”

“fuck. you.” you enunciate the words, your jaw impossibly tight as you grit your teeth. “im not the fucking rat.”

“all the evidence,” he starts as he disappears from your vision. you know he’s going to pick his weapon of the hour. you force yourself not to shudder.

“points to you.”

“take that bullshit evidence and shove it up your ass, riley,” you seethe, ropes pulling taut as you lean forward in the chair.

he’s back in your line of sight now, brandishing a large knife.

“you’re only making it harder on yourself, love,” he tuts, and then he’s swinging the knife down, right onto one of your fingers.

you scream as the blade cuts right through skin and bone. your teeth dig into your lip, drawing blood as you refuse to give him more of a reaction. it fucking hurts, but you’ll be damned if you let yourself cry.

“feel like talking now?” he asks, watching as half of your left pinky finger falls to the floor.

“or should we take off another?”

you look up at him, hoping he can see the hatred in your eyes as you speak your next words. “you could take the fucking hand off and I’d still have nothing to tell you.”

“let’s see how true that is then, eh?” he replies, and raises the knife again. he’s about to swing, when someone comes running into the room.

“ghost!”

it’s johnny. he’s obviously winded as he stops beside simon, dropping his hands to his knees as he struggles for breath.

“what, mactavish? im busy.”

“they’re—” he gasps. “they’re not— the— rat.” he says between breaths.

the room goes impossibly still. so quiet you swear you could hear the men’s heartbeats (or maybe that pounding in your ears was your own).

“you sure?” simon’s voice is softer as he lowers the knife and turns to johnny. the younger man nods, his eyes trained on you. you can see the regret in them, the sorrow.

“it’s fucking shepard.”

it’s not funny, but at the news, you burst into laughter. the men stare at you in confusion, but you can’t stop.

you’re laughing so hard you’re crying, and they’re just standing there.

“are you alrigh’?” johnny��s asking as he moves towards you. he’s fully recovered his breath now, and he drops to a crouch to be eye level with you.

you don’t answer— you can’t. you keep laughing. distantly, you hear the knife simon was holding clatter to the ground. can just make out the sound of more footsteps out in the hallway, coming towards the room.

you pass out.

when you wake up again, you’re in the infirmary. your eyes open slowly, adjusting to the bright fluorescent lights.

“easy, love,” a voice to your right drawls.

your eyes are fully open now. you look down at yourself, noticing the lack of bindings. noticing the iv taped to your arm, the stitched cuts, the black and blue bruises, the missing fingernails and missing finger.

the person sitting next to you clears his throat. that’s when you look up and meet the eyes of your captain.

your captain. the man who was supposed to lead you, to keep you safe. what a fucking joke. he’d started the damn witch hunt.

“how d’you feel?” he asks, his words soft, like he’s trying not to scare off a timid animal.

you stare at him for a beat. then two. then you’re moving, pulling the iv from your arm and shakily pushing yourself up in the bed. price is telling you to stop, reaching out to push you back down, but you slap at his hands.

“get the fuck off me!” you shout, and that takes him aback. he stops, frozen, as he watches you shift in the bed. you throw your legs over the side of it and prepare yourself to stand.

“you really shouldn’t—” he begins after he’s regained his senses, but you pay him no mind. you place your feet on the ground and start to stand. your legs wobble, almost give out, but you’re able to stand. barely.

“shut up,” you growl, stumbling forward and towards the exit. he’s moving to cut you off, and you slide him a gaze that’s sharper than a knife. “and leave me the fuck alone.”

he halts again. he seems almost scared of you— but that can’t be right. even on your best days, he would still beat you in hand-to-hand combat.

he’s not scared of your threats or your frail body. he’s scared of what he’s done to you.

just then, johnny and gaz come through the infirmary doors.

“cap, y’alright? we heard yellin’—” johnny begins, but his mouth snaps shut at the sight of you out of bed.

you’re heaving from your spot next to the bed. your legs are shaking violently, threatening to give out any second. you feel nauseous and numb.

“let’s get you back into bed,” gaz says, and he starts towards you, but you stop him as your gaze snaps to his.

“don’t come any fucking closer. any of you.”

“bonnie,” johnny murmurs. he sounds miserable, but you don’t care. don’t give a fuck about how any of them feel.

“don’t. im leaving,” you grunt out, moving a foot forward slowly. you’d be damned if you fell in front of them.

“you can’t, love. you’re in no shape to be walking.” john says, and you snarl.

“and whose fault is that?”

the men stay silent as they watch you slowly shuffle towards the foot of the bed. you’re bracing yourself to walk on your own when simon walks in.

“get back in bed,” his tone is blunt. you ignore him.

you remove your hand from the bed, move to take a step forward without support, and you begin to crumple to the floor.

simon moves forward, quick as a cat, and catches you. he lifts you into his arms bridal style, and you’re screaming hysterically. your limbs are flailing the best they can in such a battered state. you’re in fight-or-flight mode, your body betraying your desire to put up a steely front.

your palms slap against simon’s upper body and his masked face. he gives no reaction. he doesn’t say anything. the others are watching the exchange silently. the room is buzzing with tension.

“get off me!” you screech, landing a slap to simon’s cheek. “let me— let me go! let me go!” you’re gasping for breath, tears streaming down your cheeks. you’re panicking. your heart feels like it’s going to beat out of your chest.

“put me down! get— get— off me! stop—” you sob.

the doctor rushes into the room then, yelling at the men for allowing you out of bed. you can’t make out what she’s saying over the rush of blood in your ears. you feel light-headed. you can’t breathe.

“put them down, now!” the doctor yells at simon. “they’re having a panic attack— I thought I told you four to stay away from them? they’re too vulnerable right now—” the doctor is chastising them as simon places you back in the bed.

spots are dancing in your vision. you don’t even feel it when the doctor sticks another needle into your arm. the words being exchanged above your head are muffled. it’s like you’re underwater.

john’s face comes into view, then johnny’s, then gaz’s. as your eyes start to close, you notice the only face you don’t see again is simon’s.

when you wake up again, it’s been two weeks.

the doctor had put you into a medically induced coma to allow your more serious wounds time to heal, without risking another episode. unbeknownst to you, the members of your team had stayed by your bedside almost the entire time— minus simon. he hadn’t come within ten feet of the infirmary since the day of your panic attack.

there’s fresh flowers on the bedside table. a steady beeping of the heart monitor. a fuzzy feeling in your head.

it feels like a dream, all of it does. none of it feels real as you settle into your body again. but then the hurt starts, and you remember the truth.

your family betrayed you. your lover betrayed you. they locked you up and tortured you. they didn’t believe you.

when the doctor came to your side to check your iv, she smiled.

“how’re you feeling?”

you look up at her, and it takes a moment for you to speak.

“don’t,” you begin. your mouth feels like it’s full of cotton. “don’t let them…in here. don’t…wanna see them.”

the doctor nods in understanding, and she doesn’t say anything else to you. she turns and walks out of the room.

the door clicks shut behind her. she lets out a sigh before turning around to face the three men.

“they don’t want to see you.” she tells them, and their expressions drop. they don’t protest, and like wounded puppies, they walk off.

no one else comes to check on you for a few hours.

you’re in and out of consciousness— can’t tell what’s real and what’s a dream. flashes of your torture come back to you. flashes of a smile. of a scarred face. of hands on your hips and—

you crack your eyes open, and the room is dark. the only light is the blinking of some of the machines. it illuminates the room enough to allow you to see a large, dark figure slip from the room. the door clicks shut so quietly it’s almost imperceptible.

that’s when you notice fresh flowers on the bedside table.

your eyes start to droop once more, and you chalk up whatever you just saw to a dream, while simon exhales heavily on the other side of the infirmary door.

————————————————

authors note:

I hope this alright! it’s one in the morning (and I’m half asleep writing this) so I apologize for the errors that are most likely present, and the sense this most likely lacks. I feel like I could write a whole book about this idea, but im cutting myself off to sleep lol.

thank you for the ask, I hope I did your idea justice. 🫶

[ave661]

[deunmiu-dessie]

divorced!john price who lets his daughter and her best friend (you) stay at his house every summer without fail. divorced!john price who leaves the two of you home alone more often than not when he's deployed. divorced!john price who spoils the two of you when he is home, by taking you out to restaurants and going shopping. divorced!john price who should see you as a second daughter, and treat you as such. divorced!john price who feels like a dirty old man for not thinking that way. divorced!john price who's wanted to feel your cunt wrapped around him since the moment he laid eyes on you. divorced!john price who swears to let his fantasies be nothing more than they are. divorced!john price who gets a text from his daughter during his early drive back that you had arrived sooner than she did. divorced!john price who gets home only to find you sprawled naked across his bed, playing with yourself and moaning his name. divorced!john price who can't help but swallow thickly at the sight of your messy pussy ruining his sheets. divorced!john price who clears his throat, voice gruff, "d'you wan' help sweetheart?"

he knows he shouldn't be doing this, knows that it's wrong, but the taste of you is addicting. warm and sweet against his tastebuds, innocent and needy. the precise but shaky roll of your hips against his mouth is driving him insane as well⸺ and the only thing he can do is watch. watch as you fall apart on his tongue while he grinds himself against the edge of the bed. listen to the muffled sound of your moans and pleas as he takes you higher and higher only to slow down his ministrations and ruin your orgasm, your slick, soft thighs trapping him against your swollen, drooling cunt. john can't help but groan against you, tongue lashing out to flick your engorged clit, when he finds your teary face, your head shaking back in forth. "m-mr. price! mmf--! please! i can't, need t'cum."

and maybe he shouldn't have given in as easily as he did, but god he's jerked off to the thought of this exact moment for what feels like an eternity. "all y'had to do 's ask, luv."

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ - 𝒸𝓁𝒾𝒸𝓀 𝓂𝑒!