omgitstatertot

[omgitstatertot]

[omgitstatertot]

funny how there were so many rumors about tumblr shutting down for good and yet it has watched some of the biggest social media platforms die

[omgitstatertot]

Inspired by this @ghouljams post (tyvm i love soft price)

[omgitstatertot]

Earlier I was scrolling Reddit and I come across a post in r/shrooms, a sub reddit dedicated to psychadelic mushrooms and frequently featuring entries from users who are posting during a trip.

A guy posts, freaking out, that the delivery person who dropped off his food had a huge snake wrapped around his neck and the snake was talking to him and tripped him out.

He shares a picture ne sneakily took of the delivery driver.

The delivery driver actually does, in fact, have a live 7 or so foot long boa constrictor draped across his shoulders.

Can you fucking image. Being blasted out of your gourd on hallucinogenic substances, getting a random knock at the door and the guy has a live gigantic snake just chilling. Your head would explode

[omgitstatertot]

Simon would really be the type to get real flustered and all blushy blushy when you address or introduce him as your boyfriend/husband.

It was only later one evening at your favourite cafe which you gushed about all week, from pastry to scones and other sweet dessert, until you finally got him up to wear a plain black hood and only a lower face mask. He was raking over your figure while you stiffled your blush and scanned down the menu for the perfect thing that Simon absolutely would love to eat out, something apart from you. His joke, not yours.

“...yes, and tarte tatin for my boyfriend.”

You smiled and turned back to see a marvelous sight. Nothing. And nothing at all, the dirtiest and the softest and the most unhinged words you'd ever said to him could ever tinge up those cheeks so much flushed in colour. Astonished — you blinked. “What is it, si ?”

“Nuthin' love.” He shrugged, bringing his large hand over his face before you leaned forward and snatched his wrist with both hands. “What is it ? Are you...hey am i seeing you blushing ? Oh gawd you are —”

Simon shaked head, like he could shake away the high rise of rosy glow which tinted across the crinkle of his eye. His eyes so soft and bright in its flourish gleam.

“naw, nah...” He was. The nerves were grailed out in fine blue and green. Blood just under the pale skin, hot and needy.

You chuckled out softly, and it clicked like cuckoo clock at midnight. One sharp moment of it's glory. “My boyfriend..is my boyfriend blushing ? Huh.”

“oh fuck.” And if Simon thought he couldn't turn any more red, well there was always room for surprises.

[omgitstatertot]

who’s sliding into your dms like this?

[omgitstatertot]

“face the truth as it is instead” disintegrated him

[omgitstatertot]

notice how everyone is horny today

[omgitstatertot]

if the military wanted you to have a wife, they'd issue you one. Soap's heard that saying once or twice.

and here you are. claiming to be his... issuance.

you tilt your head. "you don't remember signing up for the program?"

no. no, he doesn't. his eyes dart down to your lips for a fraction of a second before returning to your eyes. he'd remember that. more to the point, he'd remember whatever he did to deserve this. he looks you up and down again, disbelief and desire flashing across his face, and not in equal measure.

you’re like if someone wrung the starry slurry of thoughts constituting what makes a perfect woman directly from his brain matter, let it ferment and clarify like honey wine, put marriage papers in her hand, and dressed her in a… in a fucking… are those stockings stretching up under your skirt?

hell’s bells. you’re one part girl next door, one part muse—the one his hand can never quite shape on the page to match what’s in his head—and several shades of his favorite porn star. an old-fashioned pin-up doll in the flesh.

"you're not John MacTavish, then," you say, peering down at the papers in your hand with a small frown. "so sorry to bother you—"

“no, hold on.” he takes a step closer. “i’m him, aye. but the program...” the application questionnaire. filling it out was nothing more than a drunken bet with Gaz, but yes, he dimly remembers it. doesn't recall turning it in, but maybe he was drunker than he thought. “it's real?"

“completely real. i was selected for you based on the preferences you specified,” you tell him. you shift the clipboard into your other arm, pleasant smile turning into a frown. "but i couldn't possibly ask you to sign a marriage certificate sponsored by a program you don't even remember applying for."

oh, that is rich. you don’t seem to see the humor here. it’s absurd. have you not seen yourself? he'd be daft to pass on someone as bonnie as you.

not to mention you seem more than a little disappointed at the idea of being turned down. that fuels his ego even more.

 "you're sayin' you're a part of that military partnership program, aye? and you were handpicked as my spouse based on a few questions?"

you helpfully produce a copy of his responses in pink triplicate. sure enough, he recognizes his own drunken scrawl.

none of the questions have anything to do his preferences looks-wise. career aspirations, communication preferences, hobbies, his ideal saturday night. his sleeping habits. this is a psychological profile. CIA shite, as Gaz would say.

he doubts his drunken self read more than a few lines of this paperwork while he was constructing his dream girl in the survey blanks.

as he studies the page a little too closely, your small frown turns into a frustrated scowl. "john? um, i mean."

it instantly pulls his eyes back to your lips.

you twirl a strand of hair around your finger. "it’s nice to meet you,” you say in a tone that makes it clear what you’re really saying is ‘hey, stud, i'm looking forward to the honeymoon.’

that’s your attempt, at least. but Soap sees more than you mean to show. the way you play that card--the way you twirl your damn hair--is the clumsiest, most blatant attempt to flirt. somehow, that's what catches him off-guard the most. It makes his heart squeeze. god, are you nervous? you?

he runs over the back of his teeth in the split second before his signature lazy smirk slides back across his face. "happy you got paired up with a bloke like me?"

he hands the paperwork back to you. you take it back with great relief and nestle it securely into the crook of your elbow. you’re certain he didn’t sign every single blank he was supposed to, but he won’t remember that. you’ll check the signature lines later and forge his handwriting to finish it.

you smile prettily at him. then you make it a little more coy. you should be bashful--he's handsome. "i'm lucky. you're special forces. i’m a nobody, really. if you want, you could try filing for a spouse upgrade. if you want a really good fiancée..."

“fiancée." Soap rolls the word around his tongue. "is that what i should call you?”

"well. you saw my name on the paperwork," you point out. you know very well he didn't.

before he can ask any more questions, you press a chaste kiss to his cheek and pull away, walking down the hall with documents in tow. his gaze is heavy on your back.

the documents in your arm are real enough. Soap really did complete that questionnaire, just like how he remembers. getting the application turned in is what required a little creative effort.

but as long as nobody looks too closely at the military ID photocopied in the application file, they won't notice that the mostly-obscured face of the soldier who turned the application in doesn't look much like Soap at all.

...

more Soap / masterlist

[omgitstatertot]

How the 141 Fuck

18+ only, GN!reader

Price

Right off the bat, let’s get one thing straight. John Price doesn’t fuck, he makes love

He has a very “it’s a marathon, not a sprint” kind of mindset towards sex. His work life is so fast paced, high adrenaline, always go-go-go-go, so in the bedroom he likes to really take his time and slow things down

Unhurried, powerful thrusts that let you feel every inch of him as it pushes into you

Likes a hands-on mouths-on approach – tugging your nipple between his teeth, teasing your earlobe with the tip of his tongue, tasting your mouth as he’s deep inside you

Once he finishes, don’t think he’s going to pull out any time soon. After all, you wouldn’t want his cock to get cold throughout the night, right?

Gaz

Kyle likes to tap into the intimacy side of sex. As such, he often falls into ritualistic tendencies that heighten this sensation – sultry music, mood lighting, showering together before/after, etc.

He fucks you steadily, with smooth rolls of his hips, like the sure motion of a wave gently flowing back to shore

Loves prolonged eye contact. It doesn’t matter who’s going down on who or who’s under who, he wants your eyes on his always

Though he’s fairly delicate with you, he’s not afraid to get a little rough when the occasion calls for it (like seeking out his treasured eye contact, for example)

Will pull you back by the hair or grab you by the jaw to make you turn around and look at him. And if the position is too difficult to easily maintain your gaze, well, that’s what mirrors are for

Soap

Johnny is a freak in the streets AND the sheets and there’s no way you can convince me otherwise

For starters, he is mes-sy. Sex always ends with you both covered in a healthy mixture of lube, spit, and cum

He has an erratic quality to the way he fucks – jackhammering into you one moment as hard and fast as possible before he’s stopping completely, holding himself still inside you because he likes to feel you squirm on it

Always does a little too much in bed. Things like slipping a vibrator in his ass as he’s got his mouth on you or bucking up into you as he has you ride and choke him are not out of the ordinary

I hope you don’t get tired easily, because he is never ever ever satisfied after just one round

Ghost

I think realistically, Simon is not super adventurous in the bedroom, but what he does, he does very well

Sharp, staccato thrusts. Deep, breath-punching thrusts. Bed creaking, headboard rattling, having your neighbor angrily banging on the wall kind of thrusts

He prefers to be on top, lying flat against you as he fucks you into the mattress. He does this not because he craves control or wants to smother you or something; he just wants to be as close to you as possible

Goes out of his way to ensure you’re always having a good time. Nothing gets him harder than hearing your loud, enthusiastic consent

Don’t be surprised when you find yourself stumbling around like a newborn deer the morning after. That just means he did his job right the night before

[omgitstatertot]

like to charge, reblog to cast <3

[omgitstatertot]

68 / 270 words

Poker night. But the boys know how to keep things interesting. So this time, in the middle of the table, chips are stacked high around the grand prize--you. Pretty thing, dolled up in lingerie and sitting on your knees. Even once the cards are dealt, their eyes wander. So much for poker face.

Soap whistles, looking you up and down. "Hell's bells. Might not be throwin' the game this time."

You huff and shift your legs. But you refuse to curl up into yourself. You still have your pride.

It almost vanishes outright, though, when Price’s gaze rakes over you as he takes a drink of his liquor. "That’s a pretty sight," he says. He knows it’ll make you squirm.

Gaz grins as he checks his cards, his gaze flicking over to you. "We've got a grand prize worthy of winning, then?"

You glance back at Gaz. Your boyfriend. When he told you he'd be partial to sharing, you didn't think he meant something quite so ceremonious as this. He looks amused, even fond, as if your squirming is his favorite part. There’s no trace of pity on his face as the others look their fill. If anything, he'd prefer you to be wearing less. He always liked showing off his things.

Heat rises in your throat, and you flush at his pride in you. "Good luck," you tell him.

He smirks, loving the flush that rises to your cheeks. Then he slides a polished, onyx-black poker chip into the center of the table--the chip that represents you.

"There's your incentive, boys," Price says.

Ghost chuckles. "Place your bets."

...

see also: if the military wanted you to have a wife, they'd issue you one; TF141’s favorite sexy clothes on you

...

more Soap / more Price / more Gaz / more Ghost / more multi-141 and poly 141 / masterlist

[omgitstatertot]

Fun fact: by just using imaginary numbers, some Evil Math, and 101 rotating vectors You Can Create a shitty approximation of a fish.

[omgitstatertot]

simon’s so fucking gross

he's got a way of making every inch of you feel like his, and the second he spots you: cute, careless in that little pub. he’s got you out back, breathless in the alley in seconds.

in minutes, though, he's holding you up against the wall and eating you out, slurping and sucking on your folds while rolling your clit between his tongue, loud enough for drunken passerby's to hear. his pants are off and he's already jerking his cock when you cum in his mouth. he laps it all up, before spitting it back onto your messy little cunt to prep you for him

he spreads you wide, pinning you with his hips, inching his fat cock into your tight, sopping hole, with his hand clamped around your mouth like it's his right, spitting about how "you can take it, can't y'bird?"

[omgitstatertot]

I finally made the meme I've had in my head for over a year

[omgitstatertot]

me and gf were making out and i slipped my hand into her waistband for a second and burst into uncontrollable laughter because this fucking tweet appeared in my head like a message from god

[omgitstatertot]

what do you mean elon musk did a nazi salute on live tv at the united states presidential inauguration twice and is now erasing the evidence off the internet by replacing the footage with the crowd cheering instead?

would be a shame if people reblogged this, wouldn’t it?