rahmown

[rahmown]

you cant tell me this isn’t something soap would text ghost

[rahmown]

ghostsoap that gets married. johnny that hasn’t even considered changing last names for either of them. simon that wants to become a mactavish because he’s never had the last name of someone that’s loved him before.

[rahmown]

idk why the quality went to shit but uh…. farah !!!

[rahmown]

Summer's here and it won’t leave

[rahmown]

KÖNIG - INFATUATED

↳ where you’re celebrated on valentine’s day. [wc: 1k] [nsfw]

i actually wrote this on valentine’s day so even though that was months ago, have at it. female reader

“So perfect,” he groaned deeply in your ear, though still with the desperation of a tired working man that drove you wild. Your body was slack against his brooding frame, on his lap and legs spread in front of you while he loomed behind you, supporting your exhausted, finger-fucked out form. With your head tucked under his chin, eyes closed, the side of your face on his chest like you were embracing the last man on Earth.

He remained fully clothed while you had abandoned all but your white and pink-accented panties of which his hand was down, the thin necklace that had a small, pink heart he had gotten you for Valentine’s Day resting so delicately on your collarbone. Your sundress was discarded somewhere on the floor near you, one of his favorites you wore to dinner. His other arm wrapped tightly around your waist, sleeves of his black dress shirt rolled up and palm massaging at your tits, and you had both hands clung to it in an attempt to fight the overwhelming sense of it all, nails digging into his exposed forearm in the way he loved most.

A tall mirror in front of you so you could watch yourself unravel, watch the man who was doing it to you. Who had suggested it in the first place was something you had already forgotten, but the words and excitement in his voice for you to finally be able to see, understand just how gorgeous you were when you made love, will forever be engraved in your brain. The flowers he surprised you with were visible on the nightstand in the back, as well as the box of chocolates you had already gotten into; it was cliche as hell, and he knew it, but you adored it more than anything. Floor-to-ceiling glass behind you overlooking the bright, lively city that contrasted with the pitched, starry night. Like a scene straight from a favorite romance film.

Your breathing was erratic, in and out through your agape mouth almost like you were deprived beforehand. His broad shoulders engulfed your smaller figure, consuming and guarding like a predator's freshly-caught prey, except the loving dynamic was nothing of the sort. He’d always protect you, he’d always keep you safe no matter the circumstances.

“You’re doing so good, my darling- scheisse, do you see yourself? Right there in the mirror? Such a beautiful sight, yes? It’s like you were made for me, Angel.”

Between his words, he brought his hand up under your chin to turn you, to fix your eyes on the mirror in front of you, before returning to your belly.

There was definitely something about it you couldn’t ignore, that made the experience all the more intimate. He would worship you like a goddess and treat you as such in every pathway of life, and while you didn’t quite understand the reasoning for his strong aptitude in it, you happily gave yourself to him every time nonetheless. Two fingers buried in your cunt while the heel of his palm provided friction to your clit in all the ways you needed the most, every once in a while your hips bucking up to chase his hand, though to no avail with the gentle strength and grip he had on you.

“König, baby—please, I’m gonna—…m’fuck fuck fuck!”

“It’s okay, my love, you don’t have to beg. You know I’ll give you anything you want. Can you do the same for me, Hase? Can you cum on my fingers for me?”

You bit down on your bottom lip and locked eyes with his through the mirror, glassy and big and his filled with lust and drunkenness. Nodding frantically before your lids were forced shut again, you did your best in relaxing your body, having not even noticed when you tried to push further back into his body. His big and dangerously comfortable, warm body that he graciously offered to you every night since you first met.

“That’s right, Hase. My best girl, always so perfect, so pretty like this. Let go, for me. Just like that…wunderschön, my love…it’s absolutely perfect. My little showstopper, eh, always so cute.”

You braced onto his arms and came hard with a long moan, followed by a string of swears directed at nothing and nobody. You grit your teeth as the pressure in your lower belly shot directly to your head and refused to dissipate. Breathing with long-lost rhythm, the skin on your face felt ten-times heavier, and you slumped back impossibly closer against his shoulder.

He cooed you through your high with continued, light pressure from his fingers and small praises against your scalp, peppering kisses between almost every word. You tried to catch your breath as he held you, then kissing every square inch of your hot neck and face. You’d be squirming and giggling in his arms, pushing him away and maybe even fighting back in a ticklish fit if you weren’t so fucked out and exhausted from his treatment. You almost did fall asleep in his hold, interrupted by his

“Did that feel good, my love? Can you do another for me, sweetheart? Please? Just one more and we can rest, I promise. We will sleep in as late as you like, and I will bring you breakfast in bed. I will make your favorite. Would you like that, meine Perle?”

He assigned you practically every petname in the book, and each gave you that all familiar fuzzy feeling in your heart and gut. You’d hope you never get used to it, because it’s just so sweet it’s damn-near tooth rotting.

“God, you…always take…such good care of me,” you managed to get out, smiling and turning your head to see him with doe eyes and without the help of the mirror. You took a hand and brought it to his farthest cheek, leaning up to kiss the bump of his jaw the best you could with the awkward angle and your weakened, trembling limbs you could only blame him for. “But I don't know if I’ve got another one in me, König... You said the same thing last time,” you breathily laughed.

He melted at your words, very noticeably so, and your smile drove him even further insane. He pulled you tighter to him, like how he does each time he makes a vow to never leave you hungry or broken for more.

“I know, I’m sorry, my love. I just can’t get enough of you.”

He thought you somehow became prettier with each time you came on his fingers, or his mouth or thigh. On his cock, even your own hand as he watched—with every second that passed of you being louder, whinier, and downright messy, he never wanted it to end. And you made him feel pretty, and worth something, just by being next to him, being on him. You lost in your pleasure, and him lost in yours as well. He got drunk off every moment he spent with you because—well, why him? What did he do to deserve you, your ravishing body and clever mind and beyond ethereal company? It spun his head around, and in the best possible way because your reassurance was all he lived for, and he wanted to be sure to return the gift in full.

“I mean—…what about you? I wanna make you feel good, too,” you pouted. You really mean it; you’ve been waiting all day for your chance. He looks at you with utter love and adoration, and you the same to him.

“Oh, trust me, my dear. You do plenty,” he returned with a gentle kiss to your temple, holding your gaze through the mirror. He spoke so nonchalantly for a man who just tore through you and turned your brain to thoughtless mush several times like it was nothing. Like it was just another activity, another hobby of his that granted him unending and radiating joy. “Your pleasure is mine.” He takes your hand in his, an overbearing difference in size having you dizzy once again, and he kisses your knuckles. “You know that, don’t you?”

You could never bring yourself to deny him or what he wants.

[rahmown]

‘Bury your gays’ is only okay if the gays use a jawbone to break the coffin lid and then dig their way out of the ground and then take their revenge on the people who buried them, becoming a ghost of their former self only to be revived by gay love

[rahmown]

there are two wolves inside you, one has a superiority complex because they ‘only like ships between canon characters’ and the second loves cringey x readers and shipping their oc’s with canon characters

[rahmown]

Tag, You're It: Prologue

(Poly 141 x Reader)

Masterlist

Rating: Explicit, 18+ WordCount: 1.2k Tags: Poly 141 x reader, Established relationships, F! Reader, Minors DNI Warnings: Discussions of consensual non consent A/N: This will be a brief but fun little series based off this series of drabbles

When you first talk about it, the team gives you a look.

The room goes still, the five of you lounging around the rec room table on base, where a collection of bottles and snacks litters the surface. The quiet solitude of evening hangs subtle between you all, and if you breathe in you can smell the lingering trace of shampoo, all of you scrubbed fresh and clean following your arrival back after a successful mission. Here, gathered together in mutual company, it’s you who lets the words fall out of your mouth to the surprise of the men around you.

“I want you all to chase me down and take turns on me.”

It takes a minute for the silence to settle in the aftermath of your words, and you teeth your lip as your eyes flick to the men around you, gauging their expressions. Gaz is frozen where he sits, a chip halfway to his mouth and he stares at you wordlessly, unblinking in his shock. Beside him, Soap’s mouth is agape, and you resist the urge to tell him “You’re going to catch flies, Johnny.” Ghost seems at least mildly taken aback, a rare look for him as his eyes widen under the mask. 

It’s Price, though, who releases a heavy breath in his disbelief, tilts his head so he looks at you from under his thick eyebrows. 

“That’s…an interesting proposition, love.” He finally offers, and you offer him a little sheepish shrug under the intensity of his stare. 

“You mean like hunting you?” Soap finally supplies, a little louder, and Gaz nudges him with an elbow, hissing something about the soldiers sleeping on the floor above you all. Soap rubs the sore spot with a little frown at his mate before turning back to you expectantly. 

You fidget with the empty bottle in your hands, feeling your face warm as they all stare. You’re half-tempted to tell them to forget it, but you know your partners won’t accept that, will coax the words from you one way or another, force you to admit to your own lewd desires. 

“Well, yeah.” You begin, avoiding their eyes abashedly. “Like…a training exercise almost. Trying to see how much I can avoid you all before you manage to find me?”

They’re all processing the concept, you can tell, and the fact that they are actually considering it sends your heart into a nervous flutter of possibility. 

“Catch and release.” Ghost offers after a few moments of silence, and there’s a drag of his voice that speaks of interest, hidden under a veil of amusement at the brashness of your declaration. 

“Essentially.” You reply, a little quieter, waiting for them to tell you no, expecting them to find a reason to not do it. 

“-and when we catch you…” Gaz continues, mulling over the proposition as his gaze fixates on the collection of snacks on the table, brow wrinkled in thought before his eyes lift to you. 

“You fuck me.” You finish for him, and you see something in his eyes glint at that, a little excited, eager.

“I could get behind that.” He announces, taking another swig of his beer, not hiding the smile that tugs at the corner of his mouth.

“Well, yeah, that’s the point, sergeant.” You tell him, and Gaz chokes a little as the beer goes down. 

“What if we don’t find you?” Soap asks, and you teeth your lip at that, considering.

“You think we won’t?” Ghost replies smoothly, and that sends a shiver through you, the utter certainty that he speaks with. Not an if, but a when. He catches your eyes across the table, and it fixes you to the spot, the weight of his dark eyes that betray his interest. 

You needed little convincing. You think to yourself, allowing yourself to grin at him enthusiastically. 

“We’d have to plan it.” Price announces gruffly, drawing the four of you to look at him. A hand cups the bottom of his face as he considers, eyes dark with thought. “Rules and safety systems aside, we’d need timing, supplies…” He blinks abruptly, realizing the rest of you now look at him with no small amount of shock.

You rock back in your chair a little, pleased but still trying not to betray your excitement too soon, sipping on your drink as the men around you continue to process your offer. 

“I’m in.” Soap declares after a minute of silence, his grin cheeky and bright in the best ways of him. “Always loved me a game of hide n’ seek.”

You watch as the other men around him give some indication of agreement, and even in the silence you can tell they’re softening to the idea after their initial shock. It makes a bright warmth flutter in your chest, realizing once more the power you have over these men that you adore, who will do what they can to please both you and each other. The bond between you all runs far beyond that of camaraderie, a trust and affection that often has you all falling into each others beds, tucked into chests and gentle kisses offered in the soft aftermath. 

“Are we really doing this?” Gaz asks then, and you all exchange a series of looks, wordless meanings given through eye contact. 

Price breathes out again, and catches your eyes meaningfully across the table, holding it for a long, weighted moment before speaking. 

“Your call, love.” He tells you, and it sends an unintentional thrill up your spine, a little jolt of electricity as you consider the ultimate possibilities. 

You make a point to take a long swig of your drink, releasing a satisfied sigh before the glass clinks down on the table. 

“Don’t expect me to go easy on you.” You announce cheekily, and it makes something hungry darken Price’s gaze as your excitement bleeds into him. 

He leans forward, resting his arms on the table, and you all listen as he goes on to announce boundaries, rules of engagement. He pauses as each of you offer thoughts and ideas in turn, considering the possibilities, suggesting times, limits, windows of opportunity. You think at first they’re all just entertaining the idea, thinking about it and trying to find reasons it won’t work. Yet as the conversation goes on, as the drinks empty and the snacks dwindle to nothing, you begin to realize it’s actually happening.

The words between you all last well into the night, when Price suggests you all get some sleep before entertaining the idea further. Yet when you wake the next morning and blearily wander into the briefing room, you find them discussing it further still. Planning, considering, fixing flaws in the plan. 

You decide upon a time, off-areas, safewords, things off and on the table, and eventually you all wait in anxious anticipation for the day to arrive where you’ll be set free, chased down by four deadly, capable hunters and given the treatment you so desperately want. 

When you awake on the fated morning, well before dawn, your phone pings with a little message in the chat between the five of you, announcing the beginning of the games. 

“Tag, you’re it ;)”

Taglist: Please reblog this chapter to be added to the taglist for future updates!

[rahmown]

there is nothing worse than reading the most scrumdidillyumptious smut and then clicking on the writers profile only to find out they’re like sixteen…

[rahmown]

he’s definitely autistic, you know?

[rahmown]

adding onto this;

- simon buying something ridiculous like play-doh or finger paints and absolutely making a mess of it, sure he’ll have to clean it up eventually but at least no one’s there to yell at him to do it.

- simon picking up an old hobby he had as a child. him going out to watch bugs, skip rocks or drawing in a coloring book — all the fun of doing something without the pressure to be “perfect” at it.

- simon attempting to cook an old dish that was his childhood favorite, even something like a simple spaghetti dish. once again getting to do something without being scolded, its just fun.

- finally, simon allowing himself to be the dork he is. he goes to build-a-bear and goes through the whole thing, even the heart ceremony, with no shame and a new fuzzy pal.

simon and their partner healing their inner children together. Simon who buys himself little model cars to build on his off days and Lego sets he begged for as a kid.

simon who's just as happy watching movies like homeward bound as he is catching up w his favorite shows.

nerf dart fights that he always wins because of course he does. you got him dead center of the forehead once and he couldn't keep himself from laughing.

"where'd you learn how to take headshots huh?"

'asked your captain for tips.'

"you're lyin'"

They have big man money now and rarely time to spend it all so when he gets together with his partner they splurge a little bit. if you like building or doing crafts, he would be over the moon if you sat in the room with him while he fiddled w their own.

if he's out and about he'll treat you both to a little treat. whether it be lunch, coffee, ice cream, anything.

simon who lives their life to the fullest because fuck you he can. because fuck you everything else is too hard to not spend $90 on another Lego set. gonna stop and by some good bourbon to drink while he does it too.

always says "let's go find you somethin'" to you after he snags something he wants. you're never left out ♡♡

[rahmown]

[rahmown]

*suddenly wakes up from a coma*

ghost always thought he was only into women until he met soap and had an entire sexual crisis

*falls down and flatlines*

[rahmown]

ghost and soap on leave during the summer is an absolute affair

soap quickly learns to always keep sunscreen or some kind of protection on him at all times because ghost forgets since he’s gotten so used to just relying on his mask, and if soap doesn’t make certain their bases are covered ghost will end up bright red and grumpier than usual by the end of everything

ghost has gotten into the habit of constantly peeling soap off of him at night when they’re in bed because soap likes cuddling but runs far too hot for ghost to let soap keep wrapping around him in his sleep

soap has banned ghost from wearing shorts in public because his pallor is absolutely blinding and it almost embarrasses soap to be seen with him

ghost has to get used to stepping over soap on the floors of their house like he’s some overgrown cat because it’s the only place cold enough for soap to be any sort of comfortable on the days it gets really hot

the list goes on and ends up becoming the very reason why they do everything in their power to spend mandated time off during the colder months, because neither of them are really meant to function in hot weather, it would seem

[rahmown]

i saw this on pinterest and immediately thought of them and edited it to their likeness hope u enjoy

[rahmown]

Healing

[rahmown]

König and a small kitten :)

Please ask before reposting!