#141 x ofc

[noctxj]

hanahaki disease “… in which the victim coughs up flower petals when they suffer from one-sided love. It ends when the beloved returns their feelings, or when the victim dies…”

part i / part ii / part iii / part iv

˚. ✦.˳·˖✶ ⋆.✧̣̇˚. ˚. ✦.˳·˖✶ ⋆.✧̣̇˚. ˚. ✦.˳·˖✶ ⋆.✧̣̇˚. ˚. ✦.˳·˖✶ ⋆.✧̣̇˚.

agent who slowly withdraws from poly!tf141 after the first episode of bloodied flowers (realising they’re in love), from declining offers to relax in the rec room, accompany them to the local pub, or even working out in the gym to sparring.

agent knows that they’re not being subtle, see’s the guys try and figure what is going on with them. but agent refuses to let them find out—never.

agent who finally manages (after ensuring they wouldn’t hack up another flower) to file a notice, a formality really, to john— captain price, for their absence in the oncoming month or two. as there are no current operations needing agents’ immediate attention, its an opportunity for agent to get their other affairs in order after months being on base with the taskforce. 

john— captain price, briefly glancing at the document before focusing his ocean blue eyes to search agents (tired) face, a frown creasing between his full brows.

pleasedontlookatme—

whatdoyousee—?

the captain getting up from his seat to circle around his desk to stand before agent, his scrutinising gaze trying to catch agents downcast eyes.

pleasejohndont—

“this wouldn’t be about you pulling away from us recently hm?”

bullseye— 

agent could feel a thorn piercing the walls of her throat, their jaw tightening in response. a reaction john notices, his face softening as he reaches out to tip agents chin back to finally see his now gentle imploring eyes.

soblue—

“just don’t forget to come back to us, okay little love?”

little love. a pet name that simon (proudly) started to refer to agent amongst the taskforce (and no one else, lest they meet ghost in the middle of the night) while the others also followed suit—

“or would you rather shorty? or tiny even?” simon had smugly responded after seeing agents offended (blushing) face.

ugh that big oaf of a man, not everyone needs to be the size of an industrial fridge—!!

johnny and kyle chortling in the background, seemingly forgetting they’re suppose to be supervising the recruits’ training.

the pinch of another thorn dragging up their throat throwing agent back into the present.

“of course, captain.”

lies.lies.lies.

⋆.✧̣̇˚.

agent whose kept a mental list of contacts who owe them favours, a debt that is finally being repaid: to find a cure for hanahaki disease. from the highest level of power and prestige in society, to the lowest trenches of the underworld. over the course of a few weeks, one by one, each contact falls short of delivering. but agent keeps digging. keeps searching.

there is never nothing. there has to be something somewhere. someone must have at least thought— until finally a contact (old friend) provides them with a lead. 

a doctor whose dedicated their life in medical research of hanahaki disease, searching for a cure— whispers that there is a cure. they’re located halfway across the world. but that doesn’t matter to agent, they’re leaving within an hour; flight booked and travel bag already packed.

washing the remnants of blood down the sink drain, tears wet on their cheeks. the episodes were happening more frequently.

agent is running out of time.

⋆.✧̣̇˚.

“… it can be cured through surgical removal, but when the infection is removed, the victim's romantic feelings for their love also disappear…”

agent feels drained as the doctors words echo in their mind even hours after agents abrupt appearance in the doctors office. one look into agents (desperate) eyes and the doctor already knew why they had come, offered tea to soothe their throat (wash the metallic taste away, even if temporarily).

agent immediately coughing out both the tea, then one bloodied rose— then two— three— and finally four, as agent reaches to rip the tangled thorns from the back of their throat, ignoring the screaming pain of thorns dragging out of their mouth and past their stinging pale lips. 

the doctors face stricken with worry and sadness, trying to wipe the blood from agents face and hands; disposing of the thorny flowers in a sterile bin. the doctor concluding that agent does not have much time to deliberate if they wish to proceed with the experimental procedure. an incredibly invasive surgery that may not completely cure the victim; follow up surgery’s may be required. 

being split open from larynx to diaphragm, sown back together, only to be split open again if a single flower is coughed back up.

agent acknowledges this. pain is pain after all—

whats more to add to the pile?

˚. ✦.˳·˖✶ ⋆.✧̣̇˚. ˚. ✦.˳·˖✶ ⋆.✧̣̇˚. ˚. ✦.˳·˖✶ ⋆.✧̣̇˚. ˚. ✦.˳·˖✶ ⋆.✧̣̇˚.

tric’s notes

added some dialogue in this part compared to the first part. unedited, also like the first part. i know nothing about the complexities of surgery (google images my saviour) so don’t try to make sense of it haha.

thanks for reading!! ♡︎♡︎

crossposted on ao3 (same username!)

[spurbleu]

something something your 141 bf finding out who your celebrity crush is and making fun of you for it, until they see a picture and find how strikingly similar they look to them and becoming completely endeared if not a little targeted.

alt. looks like on of their teammates and they get a strange mix of jealous, turned on, and extremely curious in the dynamics of a threesome.

[tojisun]

. . .

“but i can imagine no other peace—” (excerpt from correspondance between albert camus and maria casarés, 17 july 1949)

(images)

[sky-is-the-limit]

Gurl, I've got you.

If you are comfortable with it, I can imagine Gaz getting jealous, tying his partner to the bed (with their consent, obviously 😒) and fucking them like there's no tomorrow. (Sending this as an ask in case you wanna use it)

'Wicked Games'

P: Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick x F!Reader

CW: Dom/Brat Tamer!Gaz, jealousy, possessiveness, handcuffs, face-fucking as punishment, rough oral sex

WC: 3.505 words (oops)

You were in the midst of getting ready, your reflection adorned in a sleek, tight black dress that hugged your curves in all the right places. With each movement, the fabric whispered against your skin, accentuating your figure with an air of confidence.

His eyes followed the graceful arc of your hand as you brushed a hint of blush onto your cheeks, the subtle flush of color only enhancing your natural beauty.

Despite his efforts to appear nonchalant, the tension simmered just beneath the surface. His gaze widened slightly at the sight of your attire,lingering on you with a hint of admiration and pride.

''He's just a colleague, Kyle.'' It was the third time you had to echo that sentence in a row, each word carefully enunciated with an exhausted sigh in between as the night drag on.

''Who's desperately trying to sleep with you, Y/N.'' Kyle's jaw tightened, his gaze hardening as he leaned himself against the doorframe to get a better look at you. 

The veil of calm that blanked his form wasn't enough to disguise the tension around you that could be cut with a knife.

''Okay, now you're overreacting.'' A quick glance away from your reflection in the mirror was enough to catch him rolling his eyes to your remark as you applied the finishing touches to your makeup.

Your arrival to your corporate's event was bound to be late from the moment you were about to settle on the outfit.

The sound of the bathroom door creaked open, and your boyfriend that resembled a Greek God emerged, his hair damp and tousled from the shower. In nothing but a towel wrapped low around his waist, droplets of water glistened on his bronzed skin, accentuating the defined lines of his muscular physique.

''Yeah, right- Wait, no bra?'' Kyle's voice was tinged with a hint of reproach, his brows furrowing as he fought to keep his jealousy in check.

''I can't wear one with this dress.'' With a mischievous glint in your eyes, you turned to face him.

"And you know what else?" You continued, your voice teasing as you pulled back to meet Kyle's gaze. "It's kinda cold tonight.''

''Fucking hell.'' Kyle let out a frustrated growl, his patience wearing thin as he struggled to contain his emotions.. That did not bode well for his self-control.

With a playful smirk, he pushed himself away from the door frame and took a step closer, the air thick with a sudden change of emotions.

''What do I have to do to get you to stay?'' The droll of his voice belied a casual tease, but his tone was dangerous.

''Tie me down, probably.''

The words hung in the air for a moment, accompanied by your light chuckle, as you anticipated Kyle's typical witty response. However, as the seconds ticked by, you noticed the atmosphere slowly changing.

The laughter faded from your lips instantly as you glimpsed the genuine consideration in Kyle's eyes, a flicker of something more primal stirring beneath the surface.

The suggestion lingered in the air like a provocative dare, igniting a spark of desire within him as he contemplated the possibilities.

''Are you seriously considering tying me down, Sergeant?'' The sudden shift from playful banter to something more charged, left you breathless, your pulse quickening with a rush of excitement.

With a slow, deliberate movement, Kyle reached out to gently brush a lock of hair from your face, his touch tender yet intense.

''What if I am?'' His tone was casual, but the way it vibrated in his chest sent a rush of heat down your spine.

''You'd have to catch me, first'' You exclaimed with a giggle and quickened your pace towards the living room, forgetting for a moment that with that man standing behind you, it was pointless.

Kyle, agile and determined, moved swiftly to intercept you. He closed the distance between you in a few quick strides. In a heartbeat, his strong hands firmly gripped on your hips, halting you in your tracks.

Before you could protest or react, Kyle pulled you even closer, his body pressing against yours, sending a jolt of electricity through your body.

He leaned in close, his breath warm against the shell of your ear as he whispered huskily, "That was a bad move, sweetheart."

''Kyle, you're gonna ruin my outfit-'' A look of bland innocence spread across your face, trying hard to convince yourself above all that you wanted to walk out that door and out of his embrace. 

"Oh, sweetheart," He murmured, his breath warm against your skin, "You know I'm not just gonna ruin your outfit."

A shiver of excitement ran down your spine as his fingers trailed slowly along your sides, his touch igniting a fire within you that burned hot and bright.

As Kyle's hands moved with intent, your breath caught in your throat, skin tingling with anticipation at the tantalizing promise of what was to come.

It was when Kyle's hands reached your breasts that you realized that he was not going to let you walk out that door intact, your eyes widening in shock at the suddenness of his touch.

''I'm gonna do much more than that.'' In terms of words that made your knees give in, he’s definitely said more explicit things, but apparently, that was all you needed that night. 

"Kyle," You murmured, your tone betraying the internal struggle, "I have to go."

''Mhm, do you now?'' Kyle buried his nose in your neck, feeling your pulse with his lips. His skin was so hot, his steaming breath stretching over your delicate skin.

You didn’t mean to whimper, but it slipped out and Kyle's hips bucked. Eager to cage you. Eager to pin you under him and devour you.

With a teasing lilt to your voice, you uttered the name that always seemed to set him on edge, "What will James think if I don't go?"

You knew all too well the effect those words would have, how they would stir the green-eyed monster within him, yet you couldn't resist the thrill of fueling his jealousy and pushing him over the edge.

/ / /

And that was how you ended up lying on the bed, your wrists bound by soft leather handcuffs secured to the headboard.

It had started innocently enough, a playful suggestion that quickly escalated into something far more intense. With each gentle tug of the restraints, you felt a surge of excitement building within you.

And as you laid there, completely at his mercy, you couldn't help but feel a sense of vulnerability unlike anything you had ever experienced before.

The soft whisper of fabric against skin, the faint creak of the bed beneath you, every sensation seemed magnified, heightened by the knowledge that you were completely under his control.

In that moment, with the world reduced to nothing but the two of you, you knew that you were exactly where you wanted to be, no alcohol, no annoying colleagues, no meaningless conversations. Just you, bare naked, bound to the bed and utterly captivated by the man kneeling with you between his thighs

"Satisfied now, Sergeant Garrick?" A devious smile played on your lips as you attempted to feign innocence, but your efforts were feeble at best.

Your boyfriend's keen observation didn't miss a beat. The slight twitch on his brow betrayed his reaction to you using his military rank. It was clear that your words had struck a chord within him, awakening something hidden beneath the surface that was begging to come forward.

As his gaze met yours, you noticed them darkening to the shade closest to the nightsky. There was a spark of arousal mixed with something almost unexplainable, something almost frightening. Intoxicating.

"Cat got your tongue, pretty boy?" Your tone dripped with sass as you pushed the boundaries, testing his patience.

Short distorted laughs came from him, almost mocking your pathetic attempt to provoke him. He raised one hand, the warmth of his touch grazing against your cheek before trailing down to the back of your head, where his fingers began to weave through your hair with a gentle grip.

Despite the tender gesture, you couldn't ignore the underlying tension that radiated from him, it was clear that what was to follow was going to be far from sweet.

Abruptly, his fingers clenched tightly in your hair, a searing pain radiating through your scalp, eliciting a groan to escape your lips.

"Yeah? Is that how you wanna play, love?" His voice was low and husky as he leaned down, bringing his mouth close to your ear.

Kyle's lips brushed against your skin, sending a shiver down your spine, while his other hand, calloused and strong, gently cupped the flesh of your ass before giving it a firm squeeze.

You felt his touch trailing down, skimming over the nakedness of your upper body until they reached the edge of your panties. Your breath caught in your throat as his fingers danced along the elastic, teasingly tugging them down. The sensation was electrifying, anticipation coursing through your body.

His warm breath tickled your neck as he exhaled, "You're practically dripping, and I've barely even touched you." He remarked with a low chuckle, the sound rumbling in your ear and sending a thrill through your body.

"Shut up-" You quipped, knowing full well the bratty tone of your words.

As if to amplify your wicked plan, you aimed a playful kick at his thigh, intending to push him away though you knew that it was part of his job to take down men twice his size with ease.

Kyle reared back, and in an instant, his lips crashed onto yours with an intensity that bordered on punishing.

Initially, you resisted, a split-second defiance before surrendering to the fervor of his kiss. As you yielded, his kiss softened, his lips tenderly caressing yours, his tongue teasing the corner of your mouth with slow strokes.

As he began pressing his knee against your throbbing core, your back arched instinctively, seeking further contact and stimulation.

In response to your reaction, he let out a deep, guttural moan of his own into your mouth, his desire echoing yours as he intensified the pressure of his kiss. With one hand still cupping the back of your neck possessively, he leaned over you, his weight asserting dominance in the space between you.

His honeyed eyes fixated on your breasts, staring with a hunger that made your skin tingle. His plush lips were slightly parted as he placed his palms on your stomach, earning a desperate whisper from you.

''Kyle-'' Unintentionally, a soft mewl escaped your lips, a sound of desire that surprised even you. You couldn't help but crave his hands on your breasts, yearning for the sensation of his fingers squeezing, massaging, mirroring the fervent desire on his face.

And then, he withdrew, his lips parting from yours, leaving behind a warmth as he leaned back to take another look at your exposed skin.

''You wanna act like a brat?'' Kyle seethed as if he was welcoming a challenge, a sly smirk playing on his lips, his eyes gleaming with determination.

With deliberate intent, he wrapped his fingers around the base of your neck, his grip tightening gradually, compelling you to meet his eyes. ''Fine, I'll treat you like one.''

His hand disappeared from your sight, gliding down his torso until it reached the towel that hung low around his waist, teasingly revealing the contours of his body.

In one swift motion, he discarded the towel, allowing it to fall to the floor with a soft rustle, revealing his form in all its glory. You couldn't help but stare, mesmerized. It slapped against his stomach with a satisfying thud, beautiful and big, just like him.

Slowly, he caressed himself before you, his cock poised directly in front of your face, temptingly close.

"Spit." Kyle commanded, his hand extended in front of your face, positioned just beneath your waiting mouth.

Without hesitation, you complied with his request, gathering saliva in your mouth before lolling out your tongue, allowing it to messily fall into his hand.

"That's my obedient girl." He praised, whilst using the same hand that collected your saliva to stroke himself once again. With each firm stroke, his member glistened, now coated in the slickness that you provided.

''Open your mouth, sweetheart. Unless you'd like for me to force it open?'' He questioned as as he began to leisurely drag the tip of his throbbing cock along your wet lips before gently prodding them.

You savored the bittersweet tang of the precum that glistened on the head, the taste a delicious blend of saltiness and sweetness that made you want more. And so you complied without hesitation, parting your lips and extending your tongue, its wet, pink surface waiting for his touch.

''Suck.''

His voice took on a rough, commanding tone, without any hint of playfulness as his hips bucked towards your lips, seeking the warmth of your mouth.

Without hesitation, your mouth opened eagerly, welcoming his head as it entered, filling your senses with the taste and texture of him.

You hollowed your cheeks, creating suction as you enveloped him, relishing in the sensation of his hardness against your tongue. Taking your time, you swirled your tongue around the tip, exploring every ridge and contour, teasing him with the flickering motion.

You weren't going to give it to him easily. Or so you believed in that moment. Perhaps deep down, there lurked a streak of masochism within you.

And so, without warning, you executed a bold move, deftly slipping his length off your lips with a resounding pop, punctuating the act with a falsely innocent look.

"Oops." You smirked, meeting his half-shocked, half-annoyed expression with unwavering confidence despite your restricted position.

''Bold move, love.'' What he did next caught you off guard.

With a swift motion, he retrieved his hand from the back of your head and placed it under your jaw, the once gentle touch now transformed into a merciless grip as his fingers closed around your cheeks, applying pressure until you winced from the pain and forced your mouth to open.

Kyle wasted no time in reclaiming the wetness of your mouth, thrusting his length back inside with an assertiveness that seemed almost brutal. Not to you, though. That was how you liked it and he knew. Gentle and sweet as a partner, rough and dominant as a lover.

You hummed around him, the vibration serving as an affirmative response, granting him permission to take control. His other hand rose to join the first, folding over your head, firmly holding you in place as he lifted his hips and thrusted forward.

He closed his eyes, the long lashes brushing against his flushed cheeks as he breathed out a low, gravelly moan.

"Oh, fuck, yes- that's it. You're- you're taking me so fucking well." In contrast to his words growing increasingly visceral and obscene, Kyle looked strikingly beautiful and almost mad with his open jaw hung slightly agape as he struggled to catch his breath, each inhalation ragged and uneven.

Sensing his movement, you relaxed your jaw, allowing your tongue to flatten and just before he pushed deeper, you managed to draw in one last breath, bracing yourself for what was to come.

Then, his head bumped against the back of your throat, causing your eyes to sting with tears pooling at the corners as you coughed wetly around him. Foam and saliva spurted from the tight seal of your lips, a result of the sudden intrusion.

His relentless pace caused your throat to bulge, stretching to accommodate his girth, while your face contorted with the strain of his forceful thrusts.

The squelching of his cock drilling in and out of your mouth got louder and louder as your saliva wet his length, only making him fuck your mouth like it was nothing but a hole, with more intent as it got easier for him.

His fingers held onto both sides of your skull tightly, burying your nose into his pubic hair with every pulsation. Your jaw grew slack, your jowl hanging low as his girth forced your mouth open for his use. 

''Now what would that asshole think, hm?'' His breathing was erratic, his words garbled and he dislodged himself from you entirely this time.

His hand gripped around the base of his cock, coated heavily with pre-cum and your saliva. The force-grip on your face relaxed and you pulled your lips back together in relief.

And then he stuffed back himself into you, taking in the feeling of your reflexive bobs on his cock, of you gagging and salivating around his member. He drug your head off after a short time, then back in, finding his rhythm.

The fingers in your hair roughly pulled you against him as he held you firmly back in place, leaving you no choice but to breathe through your nose and try to relax your muscles further. ''Seeing you tied up like that, choking on my cock, fuck-''

It only took a few more hard, erratic thrusts before he reached the breaking point, his body tensing above you as he neared climax.

With each hard movement, his cock plunged deeper into your throat, driving past the point of resistance until it reached the depths of your being. In a surge of desperate release, he unleashed his hot thick cum so deep inside you, you didn't even get taste it.

Though your jaw felt like it was burning in flames, you immediately welcomed the relief as you could finally draw in a deep, satisfying breath. With a sigh, you leaned your head back against the headboard, allowing the coolness of the surface to soothe your overheated skin.

''You did so well baby, so fucking good for me.'' He cooed, the sweetness returning to his tone before he swiftly slid his knees from your upper body down to your waist, his movements unhurried as he took in the way you looked in that moment. A beautiful mess.

Whilst he positioned himself, he leaned forward, his forehead gently meeting yours for a brief moment and then closed the gap completely, his lips meeting yours in a soft, tender kiss.

''Now..'' Kyle whispered against your parted lips, a soft breath of warmth that set your skin on fire.

As his tongue delicately brushed against your bottom lip, his hands trailed upwards to caress your restrained arms as though he was taking away the ache just by touching them.

''Be a good girl and..'' As his lips made their way towards the upper half of your face, his voice was sinful against the delicate curve of your ear shell. With each caress, the tension in your muscles began to ease.

Finally, his hands came to rest against each of your wrists, the warmth of his touch a stark contrast to the cool metal of the handcuffs.

With a gentle yet purposeful movement, his fingers traced the outline of the restraints, teasing you by applying pressure for a second before stopping and repeating the same movement.

You watched in anticipation, biting hard on your bottom lip not to wince out loud as the tension in the air became heavy once more and then you finally heard the faint click of the restraints releasing.

The pain in your wrists began to fade away, relief washing over you as Kyle deftly removed the handcuffs. With each click of the lock releasing, a weight seemed to lift from your shoulders. You eagerly anticipated the opportunity to finally touch him, to feel his warmth against your skin and bring him close to you.

But before you could even extend your hands, Kyle's touch found its way to your waist and with a suddenness that pushed all air out your lungs, he maneuvered you around, positioning you so that your face was now directed towards the headboard. The abrupt shift in position left you disoriented, your gaze now fixated on the wooden surface before you.

''Kyle, what are you-''

Without warning, he once again secured the handcuffs around your wrists, immobilizing you completely. The metallic clink echoed in the room and his striking face disappeared from your sight, replaced by the blank expanse of the wall.

Though you couldn't see him, the subtle shifts in the mattress beneath you betrayed his movements as he lowered himself onto the bed. He positioned himself underneath you, his shoulders pressed firmly between your thighs, urging them to open wider.

Finally, you looked down, his face came into view, illuminated by the soft glow of the dimly lit room.

''Sit on my fucking face.''

(to be continued..:)

[rivercloak]

re-watching 'our girl' to live out my tf141 x reader fantasies

[buttdumplin]

Of course you want to show off the food of your hometown to the boys, but this really should have been a solo date with Kyle. Still, you manage to sneak some time together.

cw: Gaz x reader, fat latine reader, gn!reader, implied poly 141, established relationship, mexican slang word count: 1845

You throw the car into park and glance up at your rearview mirror. The three white boys smushed into the backseat push at each other to try to take a look through the window, grunts and mumbles escaping them. Kyle chuckles from the passenger seat, watching the commotion unfold.

“Are we sure this was a good idea?” you turn to Kyle, “We could have brought it back to the house for them.”

“No saben igual después de tanto tiempo, y tu bien lo sabes, tesoro,” Kyle responds, an impish smile on his face.

With a groan, you close your eyes and throw your head against the headrest. It’s the first time yall are back in your hometown for more than a week, and with all the extra time to yourselves, the plan was to eat as much good food as possible. One of your tías told you about this place, where they serve al pastor straight from the trompo, each slice almost caramelized to a delicious crunch. They’ve got the pineapple sitting on top, too. She said it was the best quality she’s seen in town to date. Even her husband won’t stop talking about it. And now here you all are, parked against the curb with the air on full blast.

Every time you’ve gone to a mom and pop shop like this, it’s been you and Kyle stepping in first. You go in with kindness and chatter, and the older ladies always helplessly swoon over Kyle. Laughter bubbles and you both eat happily, and sometimes the ladies sneak extras onto your plates. It’s a sacred time full of loud smooches, the staff going “UUUUU’ all around you, a deep blush on Kyle’s face as you wipe at the corner of his mouth with a napkin, his radiant smile set to make your heart burst. It’s perfect. It’s home.

Once you’ve scoped out a place with your own private date, then you bring your white boys over. At that point, you’ve already tried the place, showered Kyle in kisses, and built rapport with the staff. So by the time they step in, the sun drawing eyes to their paleness, the staff won’t try to upcharge you. It’s a genius pull, honestly, one you’ve done yourself with tremendous success. The white folks always have more than enough money to spare, and since they usually don’t know the prices, well that’s on them. But as you sit here in the car, listening to them point out all the little details of the shop to each other, you can’t help but wish you’d left them at home.

Kyle notices the disappointment on your face as you pick at your fingers. Try as you might to keep your face neutral, your expressions are always so easy for him to read. This is the first time your private outings have been interrupted, all because the shop is just a bit too far from the house for the tacos to travel well and your cousin had to fucking say so. He reaches for your hand, bringing it to his mouth for a kiss, waiting for you to make eye contact with him. There’s a distinct sadness in his eyes, a bittersweetness that’s never appeared on these outings before.

“Next time?” a little bit of hope cracks through his voice.

“Next time,” you swear, noticeably glum.

A thought freezes you before you can undo your belt. You reach for Kyle’s hand again, silly grin on your face, and turn around towards the other boys.

“How do you ask for the price of something?’ you ask them.

Kyle holds back his laughter at the question, squeezing your fingers with excitement. There’s joy on his face again and that’s all it takes for you to know you made the right call.

¿Cuánto cuesta?” they all say as one.

“No,” you say, your splitting with a grin, and Kyle can’t hold in his laugh. “Sorry boys, you’re staying here. Kyle and I will be right back.”

They don’t have the chance to protest or question before you’re bolting out of the car, coming around to open Kyle’s door and pull him from his seat. He lets out another loud laugh, the crinkles around his eyes sending warmth blooming in your chest. You’re both still giggling, if a little out of breath from sprinting inside, when one of the staff steps up to greet you, an older woman who's clearly enjoying the life you’re bringing into the place.

“Hola, mis niños. ¿Es su primera vez aquí? No me acuerdo haberlos visto antes, y a esas caritas las recordaría.”

“Primera vez. Un primo nos dijo de este lugar. Y nomas al verlo, se ve rebueno,” Kyle says, bringing you in closer as you wrap your arm around his waist.

“Una cita con el novio,” you tell her. It’s hard to keep a smile off your face with your sudden success, and it seems to catch in the staff member as well.

As she goes off to put in your order, Kyle helps you pack up some salsa, holding the small containers for you to scoop the goods into. You’re trying to figure out just how many containers you can fit into your hands, Kyle reminding you that you’ll need more guacamole than any salsa, when she returns with a big bag full of much smaller plastic bags of guacamole for you. Before you can even thank her, she’s handing each of you a plate with two smaller tacos, winking at you.

“Si quieren, pueden esperar ahí,” she points towards the door with her eyebrows, where there’s a couple of swings.

Walking over, you eye them a little nervously, worried about the structural integrity. The last thing you need is for it to give out on you, regardless of how nice it might be to reminisce in the seat.

“They’re welded,” Kyle whispers in your ear, “They’re solid.”

Sweet tears brim your lashes as you pull him down to cover his cheek in quick kisses. You can feel his shoulders shake with quiet mirth as he stays in place, accepting as much love as you’re willing to give him. If it were up to him, he’d never move from the spot, not even if his back starts aching or if hunger pangs strike. He’d stay pressed to you until something or someone forced him away. So for now he takes what he can.

“We should eat these before they get cold,” the false concern in your voice clear as you gently rock in the swing.

“Definitely. Wasting them would be disrespectful,” his voice low, pulling at the chain of your swing to bring you close together.

The first bite has you turning to look at each other with wide eyes, a pleasant shock bouncing between you. Words can’t do it justice. Your tía’s husband hyped these tacos up so much that you were a little worried about being disappointed. Turns out he didn’t talk about them enough. All either of you can do is let out groans as you chow down silently, Kyle’s strong arm keeping your swings connected.

“Hijo de su pinche putisima madre,” you say, gulping for breath around the sheer ecstasy of the food.

“Que chingandos fue eso?” he says, soft eyes searching yours as if you have the answer. They say food is sex, but the closest he’s ever come to feeling like this has been with you. What the fuck did they put in this. He leans back to face the woman behind the counter, “Seño, nos puede dar otras dos órdenes más porfa?”

“Ya te las puse, precioso,” she says, stepping towards him with a bulging bag in her hand, “Sabía que iban a necesitar más. El amor hace que te dé más hambre.” Before either of you can get up, she’s shoving another two little tacos into your hands, pressing a finger to her smiling lips.

You take slower bites this time, smiling at each other with cheeks bulging full of food. Now that you know what you’re in for, you’re going to savor every piece. Swings still connected, you nudge Kyle’s foot with the toe of your shoe, pressing your knee more firmly against his. He looks so at peace, his shoulders slightly scrunched as he carefully brings the food to his mouth, his nose crinkled up with delight at each bite he takes. You have the brief thought that maybe you should take a picture of this moment, but you can’t bear to tear your eyes from him. And when he turns, those big brown eyes locked on you, you’re sure you’ll never blink again.

“¿Que piensas, mi vida?” he caught your stare.

“Que te adoro,” you speak the words into his skin, kissing the arm holding your swings together.

“En aceite?”

“Clarín.”

Kyle quickly scans the room, just enough to make sure no one is looking your way, before bending and planting a tender kiss on your lips. His lips taste faintly of salt and fat, just as yours surely do, and you wish you could deepen the kiss, wanting more of the delectable combination. But he pulls away before you can, hunger for you burning in his eyes.

His voice is rough when he speaks again, tongue peeking out in search of the lingering taste of you, “We should get back to them.”

“When we get home?” your voice so breathless you barely recognize it as your own.

Kyle nods and stands, holding the bag of food in front of him, trying to discreetly adjust his pants. You’re both giggling again as he reaches for you, gently helping you up from the swing. Smiles are still stuck in place when you reach the car, slipping into your seats without saying another word.

You pause for a moment, waiting for some kind of commentary from the backseat. Now that you’re back in the car, you can look over and see that the swings are in clear sight of the car. A glance up at the rearview mirror shows you three grinning faces, each one more knowing than the next. They could dog you, tease you, joke about the scene they surely saw. But they don’t. Instead, Simon’s tummy breaks the silence, a loud rumble echoing through the car.

The entire car bursts into peals of laughter, the racket interrupted only long enough to deal out plates and servings. Kyle was right about the guacamole, as the boys pour entire little baggies of it on their tacos. Can’t blame them, honestly. That shit is creamy. And then a corus of moans breaks out in the backseat, first bites hitting hard enough to make the most stoic of them break into delight. You look over at Klye, find him already looking at you, and you both nod enthusiastically, biting into your food.

“We’re coming back,” he says, and then lower, “Just us next time.”

“Fuck yeah we are, that was set in stone the moment the woman greeted us. Gotta show off my boyfriend again,” you wink at him.

[rosepinksky]

Pay For My Time (pt. 7)

Simon "Ghost" Riley x OFC

In which Ghost's neighbour drags him in for dinner, and then ruins his life.

Warnings: cunnilingus, PIV sex (all consensual!)

word count: 2.5k

ao3 link

part 1 (smutty!)

masterlist

Despite my penchant for drunken late nights, I had always been one to wake with the sun. It had been my undoing in university; never able to sleep past 6am in the summer despite all the money I’d poured into heavy-duty blackout curtains. Countless days spent nursing coffee after coffee just to clear the thick fog of exhaustion in my brain, but sleep still never coming despite hours spent curled up trying to nap in the afternoon.

So it was foreign, the sensation of utter comfort this morning, my muscles so relaxed as I curled up under the duvet and into the chest of this man. He was just barely stirring too, gaze softened without the burden of cognisance hitting him yet.

I offered him a small smile, nudging my cheek against his shoulder. It was returned, and a slow, lingering kiss pressed to my forehead through the fabric of his mask. It wasn’t until Simon pulled back that he let out a soft chuckle, my smile falling as a frown pulled at my brows.

“What?”

He dragged the pad of his thumb over the corner of my lips, and I could see the skin stained with a faded red.

“Your makeup, sweet thing. Didn’t take it off last night.”

I groaned, rolling onto my back to grab blindly at the pack of cheap makeup wipes on the bedside table. I dragged one across my cheek, stubborn particles of glitter scraping at my skin.

“Here, let me.” He murmured, taking the wipe and swiping at across my lips far more gently than I had. His expression turned serious with concentration, and I really couldn’t help but smile at his dedication to the mundane task. There was something domestic about it, something so bizarrely intimate yet it didn’t make me want to bolt out of the room away from it quite yet.

Seemingly satisfied, he let the wipe drop onto the sheets, but kept his hand brushing against my skin. His hand drifted lower, thumb dipping beneath the neckline of the soft cotton tee. His other arm shifted from underneath the pillow, squeezing lightly at my waist.

I inhaled, gaze dropping to his lips, the mask still tucked up over the bridge of his nose. He smirked, almost imperceptibly, as his hands curled tighter around my middle, pulling me in against his body.

“Now, pet…I do remember you being fucking difficult last night.” His voice was gentle, almost eerily so. “I’m almost in two minds about making you feel good right now.”

I bit the inside of my lip, my willingness to sass back at him almost zero right now.

“I was…drunk. And pissed off about being left high and dry. I’m sorry.”

That seemed to do the trick, because almost immediately he was tugging me into the centre of the mattress underneath him, knocking my legs apart with his knees.

“At least you’ve some humility.” He chuckled, leaning down to nip at the exposed skin of my stomach where the shirt had ridden up. “…God, ‘s not like I could turn you down right now anyway. Look too fucking tempting.”

I gasped, back arching up off of the mattress as his teeth grazed against the sensitive skin once more.

“Mmph, don’t tease, I- I can’t-“

My weak attempt at pleading was swiftly cut off by another low chuckle.

“It’s okay, princess. Not gonna make you wait, not this time.” He murmured as his lips dipped lower, fingers abandoning my waist in favour of crushing the flesh of my thighs in his grip. He took in a long, greedy exhale of my bare core, lips slick with saliva as he pressed them against the tender skin.

“God, can’t wait to taste you again…you smell fucking divine.”

He wasted no time in diving in, lapping at the slick of my pussy like he’d gone without water for days. A strangled moan was torn from my throat, my fingers clutching tightly at the short curls on his scalp. I felt him twitch a little as my nails bit into his skin, but it seemed to only spur him on further as he pushed his tongue inside of me.

“Fuck, Simon, don’t stop, that feels good-“ I gasped, my breath starting to visibly pick up. I pressed my hips further down towards him, legs twitching and begging to clamp down over his ears. He kept me still, though, those strong hands rubbing small circles into the space behind my knees as he pushed them down into the mattress.

The vibration of his moan against my clit had me almost folding over in half, a sharp breath filling my lungs with ice as my eyes flew open. I met his gaze- his dark, starving gaze- and wanted to cum on the spot. He never let up on his ministrations as he held eye contact with me, just slipping a hand under my ass to grope at it as his tongue worked me closer and closer to oblivion.

I tried to speak, but all that escaped my lips was a pitiful whine, the shocks from my pussy down my legs forcing me to curl up my toes and scrunch my eyes shut. I tried to beg him to keep going, to not break his rhythm, but I found myself utterly unable to speak. It didn’t seem to matter, though, because he didn’t falter, just licking and sucking and drooling over my pussy like he needed it to survive.

I felt my arms moving up of their own accord, tweaking and tugging at my nipples, and I could just barely feel his lips quirk up in an approving smile as the added stimulation drove me closer to the edge.

When I came, it wasn’t with a dignified muffled moan as it often was when I worked myself alone. It was with a breathless, almost pained cry, the sharp end of my nails pressing so hard into my tits I swore the skin almost broke. Simon didn’t pull away immediately; in fact, it felt like he pushed himself closer, lapping up the wetness from between my thighs like a sinner kneeling before the communion cup.

I collapsed back down against the mattress. I couldn’t do anything except stare at the ceiling, vision hazy as I listened to both of our laboured breaths in the quiet room.

It took a few moments for him to drag himself back up over me, into my field of view. His lips held a lazy smirk as he tucked a wayward strand of hair behind my ear, the flush just faintly visible over his jaw making my own cheeks warm even further.

“…Please fuck me.” I whispered.

Silence hung between us for a second, and I wondered what was going through his mind.

Hesitance? Guilt? Reluctance?

I got my answer when his smirk widened into a grin, and he crashed his lips against mine.

Ghost and I had kissed before. I’d tasted the faint residue of tobacco on his lips, the spearmint toothpaste he used, as his tongue pressed into mine with an urgency akin to an addict pushing down the first hit of their drug.

But not Simon. No, in this moment, I realised I’d never kissed Simon. His lips felt different, the way he cupped my jaw and pressed his weight into me. It felt new, and genuine, and vulnerable.

I realised at the same moment, that this was his first time kissing Lucy, too.

No more Violet. No more calculated persona, no rehearsed responses to his touch. Just a man and a woman indulging sinfully and religiously in each other.

I didn’t notice that he’d pulled his boxers off. I felt him press his cock against me, and moaned against his lips, brows creasing together in desperate anticipation.

He kissed me harder as he pushed himself into me, the sharp sting of the stretch mollified by his sweet tongue. He paused, drawing back to gaze down at me, eyes asking the silent question.

I nodded without a second of hesitation.

He groaned at his first rock into me, fisting the bedsheets beside my head.

“Shit, Luce, you feel better than fucking heroin.”

If I’d been anywhere other than my current state of bliss, I would’ve made a snarky remark about neither of us knowing what the hell heroin felt like. Hopefully.

“More.” I rasped, pulling him closer to me by the nape of his neck. “Please, Si, give me more.”

He growled in response, bullying his cock into me faster and harder. I cried out, nipples pressed into his chest and sending delicious little flutters through my core at the sensation. I pushed my hips up, trying to meet his thrusts, and his breath stuttered at the action.

“Fuck, god, need to have you on top of me. Need to see your face.”

I nodded, even though I was mostly incoherent. Not entirely aware of what I’d agreed to, I let him flip us over so that I was settled above him as he lay with his head sinking into the pillow. I steadied myself with a hand splayed on his chest, panting as I stared down at him.

I began to move with a tentative rock of my hips. The response was immediate, Simon biting his lip as his head pressed further back into the soft material behind him. I grew in confidence as I found my angle, bouncing up and down on him and letting my head loll back as the mind-numbing pleasure took over my senses once again.

He groaned, the sound deep and rough and intoxicating, his hands flying up to my hips to help support my weight as I rode him within an inch of my life.

“Yes, yes, that’s it, sweet girl. Make yourself cum. Make me cum. Ride that fucking dick.” He panted, his grip tightening as he started to manoeuvre me up and down himself, setting a pace I couldn’t quite keep up with.

I let my head fall forward, meeting his eyes with a wordless plea on my lips. He let out a moan at my expression, hips snapping upwards into mine at such a rate I could feel my diaphragm catching.

“Gonna fucking cum. Gonna fucking cum inside you, come on girl, cum around me. Need to see that face.”

I had no defences left. I broke like a dam around him, every muscle in my body contracting as I let myself climax around his cock. He groaned, the sound strained and utterly animal, and I swore my orgasm doubled the second I felt his cum spurt in fucking ropes against my insides.

Neither of us moved for a long moment, aside from his hand sliding up along my back to support me. I drew in deep, rapid breaths, just staring down at him as he lay underneath me.

He seemed to do the same. Neither of us spoke, just a silent understanding that that was different.

Not fucking. Not hooking up. Making love.

I jumped to my feet, knees buckling the second I put weight on them. His arms immediately shot out to steady me, but I brushed him away as I found balance with my hand against the wall.

“You, uh…you want some coffee?” I asked, cringing internally at how stupid it sounded.

He stared at me for a long moment.

“…You should probably shower. I can handle breakfast.”

Too cock-dumb to argue and too sleep-deprived to know better, I nodded, the thought of warm water over my already pliant muscles a prospect too tempting to resist.

I grabbed a towel and a fresh pair of pyjamas without another word, waiting until I heard the click of the bathroom door to let out a breath.

I stared at one crack in the porcelain tiles as I showered.

Don’t do this, Lucy. You’ve been here before.

…But Simon wasn’t him. Simon wasn’t basking me in adoration and gifts and dates. He was accepting of the fuck-buddy relationship, maybe pushing the boundary a smidge with the morning-after sex, but this wasn’t commitment. This was pure, primal sexual attraction, and it’s not as if he would even want a relationship given the nature of his job.

Oh, dear god, his job.

There was no way he didn’t see my reaction to the reveal last night. The thought, the thought of him absolutely decimating some band of criminals without so much as a crack in his demeanour had set every nerve inside of me ablaze.

Would he be soaked in blood? I thought. Would he come home to me, still in his dirty uniform, and take out all of that pent-up aggression on my pussy?

…Jesus, I needed to go back to therapy.

I shut off the water, towel drying my hair and tugging on a random top and pair of joggers. I padded through towards the kitchen, pausing only when I heard that familiar baritone echo through the hallway.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m aware, MacTavish. No, she’s not interfering. She’s a fucking stripper, it’s not as if I’m ring shopping.”

I would’ve been lying if I’d said I hated to eavesdrop.

“…Yeah, she’s hot. She’s also not a serious thing, so back off.”

I chose that moment to step into the kitchen, tugging at the knots in my wet hair as he stood in the corner on his phone. I smirked.

“You gonna let me say hi to your friend?”

Simon’s expression dropped. I could vaguely hear a voice shouting down the other end of the phone, but he hung up the call almost immediately after seeing me appear.

“…Stupid friend. Ignore him.”

I chuckled, brushing past him to pop a pod into the coffee maker.

“Seems like he was pretty clued in about me. Feels a little unfair that I don’t get to know about him.”

Simon bristled.

“Don’t wanna share you.”

Ah. Now that piqued my interest.

“Jealous boy, hmm? Don’t want MacTavish touching what’s yours?”

In an instant, his hands were on me, caging me against the countertop.

He breathed, his tone dangerous. “I can’t stop you from sleeping with every sleaze that ticks your boxes at the club. But you will not sleep with my teammates.”

I tipped my chin up, meeting his gaze defiantly. “You are so rude to me.”

He smirked, fingers trailing along my jaw. “Didn’t seem to mind it when I was making you cum.”

I held eye contact for a long moment, a mixture of amusement and annoyance swimming in my expression. “I like your cheek a whole lot less when I’m level-headed.”

He chuckles, dipping down to press a kiss to my lips. “And I like you a lot more when you’re sober.”

tag list! <3 @simpxinnie

[kanellebullar]

Cpt. John Price and his medic, Birdie Hall

[gomzdrawfr]

making mood boards as banners reminded me the time I would draw banners for fics

[lennadanvers]

Have I been out of this app for like the last four days? Yes. Do I have the next part of Eddie's Pure Imagination ready? No. Do I have three asks about Simon pending? Yes.

Am I writing the backstory to my ToxicEx!Eddie Munson x Reader anyway? Also yes.

I have regrets, but this is not one of them.

(yet)

[noctxj]

hanahaki disease “… in which the victim coughs up flower petals when they suffer from one-sided love. It ends when the beloved returns their feelings, or when the victim dies…”

part i / part ii / part iii / part iv

˚. ✦.˳·˖✶ ⋆.✧̣̇˚. ˚. ✦.˳·˖✶ ⋆.✧̣̇˚. ˚. ✦.˳·˖✶ ⋆.✧̣̇˚. ˚. ✦.˳·˖✶ ⋆.✧̣̇˚.

warm.

too warm.

a scorching heat—

this isn’t what agent imagined being dead would be like, but they guess the fires of hell weren’t called fires for nothing. 

…

no, thats not it.

the engulfing warmth slowly cleared up the haze within agents mind, finally allowing them to properly assess their physical state. 

nothing broken… nothing torn… so far so good…

… throat remains sore though…

an instinctual habit they’d adopted during their early days, particularly after a gruelling contract gone sideways or a bumpy operation with the taskforce—

they’re here. they came.

agents’ mind screeching to a halt as all of a sudden the events of the last few (?) hours flashed behind their closed eyes.

the bloodied flowers.

painpainpain—

the doctor.

savemesavemesaveme—

their initially slow and aching climb to consciousness now shattered as their inner turmoil translates to abrupt stirring of their limbs. agents’ brows furrowing in discomfort; panic and fear steadily fuelling the turbulence of their memories and emotions clashing against one another.

scheduled to carve them out of agents body—

to heal them. make them better.

so that—johnsimonjohnnykyle—would never find out—

undeservingundeservingundeserving—

agent didn’t feel the comforting warmth shift beneath—around? them, too lost in the storm brewing within their mind. slender, tanned fingers anchoring itself firmly to the back of agents’ neck, as if to gently coax them to stay in the present little love.

a gentle huff exhaled through agents’ lips, as if their body instinctually understood that command, trying to respond with an exasperated I’m trying, to only which an even more exasperated tutsounding beside—in front? of them. only for a new snap of blurred images of the taskforce spill through agents’ mind; all of them surrounding agent as they vomited out bloody flowers. the cause of their absence, the reason why agent (desperately) distanced themselves from the taskforce. agents’ secret now literally spilt out in front of them—

nononono— 

theyknowtheyknowtheyknow—

pleasedoneleavemepleasedoneleavemeplease—!!

agents’ eyelids slowly blinked open, the effects of the anaesthetic still present in their system; but not impossible for their restless panic and fear to demand control of their body. a soft gasp escaping their lips as they (thankfully) register the dimmed lights of the seemingly familiar room—bedroom? yes, their private living quarters within the clinic (and for any subsequent visits, per the doctors words). the soft hues of browns and deep greens evoking a comforting ambiance. however, agent wasn’t able to appreciate this as their senses seemed to finally catch up to their distressed minds’ demands—

agent was lying on top of someone.

ah shit.

their cheek pressed against a solid chest covered in a soft cotton shirt. the stranger—

no. not a stranger. they smell—

like comfort (home). 

earthy. a tinge of sweetness.

a brilliant smile—

kyle. 

they were lying on top of kyle of all people.

this time agent feeling a different sense of panic— an embarrassed one; their cheeks heating up. agent now forcefully trying to pump their blood through their body faster. getting ready to bolt—

strong, rough fingers gently interlocked with one of agents’ squeezed as if being able to read their train of thought now now, none of that lass.

johnny.

agents’ vision sharpening in clarity after each blink, their eyes trailing from their interlocked fingers, up a strong arm and shoulder to electric blue eyes peering into agents’ own, from a seat besides the bed they were lying upon. a soft smile stretching across johnnys face as he placed a chaste kiss upon the back of agents’ hand.

whatthefu— 

“there’s our wee little bon’, had us scared for a bit there. but now we ‘ken finally see those beautiful eyes of yers!”

always a fucking flirt—

“johnny, behave”

a gravelly, tired voice sounded out from the back wall closest to the door.

positioned like a big, scary guard dog— 

simon.

of course, the human equivalent of a (double-layered) brick wall was always prepared. focused. agent redirecting their wide eyes to simons’ intimidating mass, only to meet dark whisky pools behind a plain black balaclava already boring onto agents. johnny only humming in response as he continued to lightly brush his lips back and forth over agents’ hand.

whatthehell—

“johnny”

“soap, stop being such a shit”

“oi ‘am not bein’ a shite—“

“of course the first thing our little love is subjected to upon waking up, is you lots’ clucking like hens” a deep, smooth voice intercepts the sergeants’ bickering. johnny immediately pursing his lips in defiance, with kyle cracking an awkward, sheepish smile at the captain. meanwhile simon seemed content to continue blending into the shadow of the wall.

john.

standing in the seemingly minuscule doorway with his burly arms crossed over his chest and a bushy eyebrow arched, unimpressed. his clear azure eyes flickering between johnny and kyle, as if daring them to bite back.

agent, now definitely wide awake, rips their hand from johnny’s and immediately moves away from kyle’s comforting warmth as if burned, their legs now dangling over the side of the bed, intent to stand before the captain in their already disgraceful state. only for a wave of queasiness to slam across their body.

moved to much too fast—

was agents’ fleeting thought as their upper body lazily swayed forward, the taskforce swarming to them. kyle gently grasping one shoulder, johnny planting both hands on agents’ waist, simon’s broad palm curling against their collarbone, and john gently cradling agents’ face between his rough, calloused hands.

“shhh, hey easy now. take deep breaths for me love”

john rumbled as he ducked his head down to keep eye contact with agents’ wide, frantic eyes. the close proximity, the gentleness, washing over agents’ skin in waves.

“c-captain--“

agent finally managed to warble out from between their stinging lips, johns gaze softening further as his thumbs swept gently across agents’ cheeks.

“—why are you here? why are you all here?”

john didn’t appear phased at all with the question, seemingly content to continue rubbing soothing motions across agents’ touch-starved cheeks. only for the uncomfortable (yet familiar) drag of something sharp at the base of their throat to slowly unwind.

no—

please—

notrightnow—

“tryin’ to find you ‘f course”

agent’s brows furrowed in disbelief, as they had informed him— the captain, of their absence—

“had somethin’ important to say. all of us had’ ta’ tell ya’ somethin’— it just couldn’t wait”

they had had enough of me—

the vicious thorns continuing a slow and continuously deepening drag against the walls of their throat.

a liability to the taskforce—

luscious plumes of soft flowers causing a suffocating sensation.

notenough—

“we love you”

john— the captain of taskforce 141’s voice seemed to bounce against the walls of the room. 

what—

“all of us love you, lass” johhny crooned gently. 

lieslieslies—

“we didn’t know it in the beginnin’— buncha’ muppets we all were”

simons’ rough voice interjected agents’ twisting thoughts, his gaze so so soft as they mapped the corners of their face in reverence.

how—

“didn’t know then, but we know now—“ kyle softly continued on from simons words.

they couldn’t be—

“— that all of our love belongs to you” he murmured against the back of agents’ neck, his soft lips and warm breath feeling so right—

“our little love” john murmured, moving even closer to rest his forehead against agents own, a shudder rolling through them, “ours to always love.”

agent felt something within them break.

they could finally breathe—

a desperate sob spilling out of agent as their tears dripped down onto johns hands still cradling their cheeks, grabbing onto his wrists as if to remove them from their mess, as if in apology, only for the captain to wipe away agents’ tears with a tenderness agent didn’t even know existed.

theylovemetheylovemetheyloveme—

“i—“ they hiccup, voice interrupted by their sniffles.

itsokayitsokayitsokay—

“i love you to”

imsafeimsafeimsafe—

“I love all of you”

im home—

agent squeaking out in surprise as john connects his nose with agents, half lidded eyes unwavering from agents’ own. johnny resting his head upon their thigh, a look of pure adoration shining in his sky blue eyes as they gaze upon agents’ sweet face. simon replacing his palm resting upon their collarbone with his cheek, tucking his nose against the crook of agents’ neck. and kyle fully resting his lips against the back of agents’ neck, softly inhaling their addictive scent. 

the agonising pain of the thorn and flowers gone from agents’ body. the cuts on their lips, both fresh and old disappearing as if they hadn’t haunted agent for weeks whenever they looked into the mirror. the suffocating struggle of breathing now absent from agents’ lungs and throat. everything appearing so much clearer, brighter—

and for the first time in their life, agent felt weightless, felt warm. 

and it was all because of them that

agent feels love.

˚. ✦.˳·˖✶ ⋆.✧̣̇˚. ˚. ✦.˳·˖✶ ⋆.✧̣̇˚. ˚. ✦.˳·˖✶ ⋆.✧̣̇˚. ˚. ✦.˳·˖✶ ⋆.✧̣̇˚.

tric’s notes

anddd we’ve made it to the end!! thanks to everyone whose read and enjoyed this story! ᡣ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶𐭩 ♡

this is my first completed fanfic series so feel free to leave feedback and comments, i'd love to hear your thoughts (o´〰`o)♡*✲ﾟ*｡

crossposted on ao3 (same username!) 

[godisitnaptimeyet]

Something, something I need a 20+ part series to this on my desk by last week

something something reader is a bartender at a popular little pub, and night after night you are hit on by men so plastered you often have to sigh and call over one of the guys you work with the idiots end up vomiting all over themselves (sometimes it’s worse than vomit but thankfully you can count those incidents on one hand)

you think by slipping on your grandmothers old wedding ring, it will sway men from hitting on you at work. And it does, there’s still some that try to test their luck, but the minute you flash that pearl on your finger they’re scurrying off to find their next target.

Cue four new regulars, four attractive military men that always flash you a polite smile and leave you a nice tip. Price comes in more than the others, claiming the stool near your register for himself, Ghost doing the same the rare nights he slinks into the pub. Soap and Gaz come in together some weekends, sitting themselves in front of you with big grins on their faces as they watch the game on the tv overhead.

They’re all sweet, a little cocky at times but nothing that one of their grins or sly remarks can’t make up for. They ask how their favorite girl is doing when they return from longer missions, genuinely listening as you fill them in on the things that have happened since they’ve been away.

Perfect gentlemen.

Until one night you forget your ring, having had to rush your shower and sprint out the door to make it to the pub before the nightly rush.

You filling glasses when you hear the chime of the bell and a familiar laugh fill the pub.

“Was wondering if I’d see you boys tonight.” You smile, motioning for them to give you a moment as you serve the other patrons.

When you slide back over to them, you immediately reach for their usual glasses, grabbing your cloth to wipe them off, when a hand clamps around your wrist and you jump, nearly dropping the glass as Ghost turns your hand over in his.

“Trouble at home pretty?” Price comments, concern etched on his face and it takes a moment for you to catch on, and you can’t help the little giggle that spills out.

“Oh! My ring… It’s kind of a funny story. I uhm.. I’m not actually married.” You laugh, expecting them to laugh along with you, but all you feel are four pairs of eyes piercing into you.

“Come again?” Gaz asks, voice a tad deeper than usual and you ignore the chills it sends down your spine.

“I started wearing it so some of the drunkards would leave me be, kind of forgot about it, just became habit.” You chuckle nervously, hand still in Ghost’s grasp and he’s eyeing you in a way you’ve never seen before.

“Hm. Interesting.”

[ivymarquis]

I would go nuts if you do something for Ghost! Make it filthy ? based on your f list , how about a combo of : chubby with size difference, breath play, breeding, light bondage, orgasm control and heavy aftercare? Or make it light , how about a combo of : chubby with size difference, oral , begging, slow burn, multiple orgasms and ofc heavy aftercare?

I really hope I didn’t go too far with this lmao

Hit all the notes except the slow burn, dealer’s choice on if this is a “no pregnancy, only breed” situation for kink purposes, or if Simon fully intends on following through with getting the reader pregnant 😇

Spoiled

Pairing| Ghost x F!Reader Rating| M Word Count| 3.5k Kinks/Content/Warnings| Breeding kink, orgasm control, breath play, squirting, overstimulation, acknowledgement of (but no use of) safewords, size difference, bondage, oral (f!receiving) possessive/simp!Simon, plus size!Reader, multiple orgasms, Simon is a touch mean at times but it’s all above board, and aftercare (or at least the plans of what the aftercare will be lol). I think that covers everything!

You’re wearing his favorite dress and Ghost is ready to climb out of his own skin.

Any other situation would have him pinning you on your back, the skirt of your dress pulled up while he pounds you into the nearest surface he can lay you out across.

However you work underneath Laswell which means he gets to watch the hem of your skirt dance across the skin of your thighs during a meeting he is rapidly losing all interest in.

He’s also not the only one looking which raises his hackles. The rest of the 141 are minding their business, eyes on Laswell up front. They know who you belong to, and have the self control to not slobber all over themselves like rabid dogs at the sight of a pretty girl.

It’s the other men in the room.

He can’t blame them; You’re bright eyed and sweet, pretty face with a plush body that Ghost loves tying up in whatever position he can think to put you in. And the fucking dress doesn’t help.

It is work appropriate. There’s a part of him that is willing to acknowledge that. It just flatters you perfectly. And the hem bounces enough to give a mouth watering peek at the insides of your thighs when you’re walking away from him.

Whether you’re oblivious to the eyes on you or you simply don’t care enough to acknowledge them, every time Ghost’s gaze settles on you your attention is fixated on him when not pointed at Laswell.

He’s suddenly seized by the thought that the ring on your finger clearly isn’t enough of a deterrent for unwanted gazes. You’re baiting him, heedless of the others drawn to you.

Sure she’s married but is she satisfied? He knows damn good and well some of the men- some of the specific ones in this room- are dogs. He can hear the question as they pace and look for a weak spot to dig under the proverbial fence.

He needs to make sure everyone knows you’re his. Clearly it’s not enough to show you’re taken.

His mind wanders, thoughts of filling you with him until you’re swollen with child. The evidence readily apparent to everyone that you’re kept satisfied by your husband.

The only thing that keeps his mind from spiraling completely is a well timed prompt from Price, forcing Ghost out of his head and back to the meeting he wants over and done with already.

Once home, Simon is able to drop the mantle of Ghost- at least for the time being- and turn his attention to you.

It really is his favorite dress on you, but it looks substantially better on the floor.

He’s got you laid across your bed, hands cuffed short to the headboard.

You always were handsy in bed. Wanting to pet and stroke and touch- it’s cute how you squirm for him once he deprives you.

“Si- Simon!” His name is a plea as his tongue goes to work between your legs.

He should be used to the sight and sounds that accompany having you bare before him. God knows the two of you have been together long enough for that- and yet every time he gets you to drop your panties his blood sings in his veins like the first time.

He’s fucking enthralled with you. Your smile, your laugh, how quick you are with a witty retort- always the smart ass until he reminds you there’s a better use for that pretty mouth. How easy it was to manhandle you in bed (how you fucking love it).

He adores how soft you are. Lush thighs spread over either shoulder as he goes down on you like a man who’s been stranded in the desert. One hand digging into the flesh of your hip, the other banded across your belly to keep you still as you buck in his hold.

He’s being a mean bastard, he knows. The pair of you have your little arrangement.

“Simon- please!” Your body strains against the cuffs uselessly. If your hands were free you’d be scrambling for purchase where you could find it- burying in his hair, fisting the sheets beneath you. Flicking his gaze up to your bound hands, he grins seeing how your fingers open and close in fists- needing to hold and touch and not being able to.

“Gotta wait for me, love,” he reminds you.

Simon controls your orgasms. Where you cum, when you cum, how you cum and most importantly if you cum.

Usually he’s magnanimous about it. Arguably he still is. If he really wanted to be an asshole about it, he’d be stuffing you with two of his fingers- the width of three of your own- and stroking that spot that had your body burning, eyes rolling into the back of your head while you cried and made a mess for him. Forcing you to fight yourself, to show a little impulse control, reveling in how you squeal and buck against him in protest.

Those soft thighs are trembling like leaves atop either one of his shoulders, splayed open enticingly.

“Pleasepleaseplease.”

He struggles to pull himself away, reveling in how tightly you’re wound. Simon could easily spend hours between your legs.

When initially cuffing you to the bed, his plan was to not let you finish until after he’d cum in you. Wanted to be mean about it, could hear you crying for him to finish you off. No point in getting you off, love, until I’ve filled that pretty little cunt to the brim. Whole lot of effort for nothing if I do it before, isn’t that right?

Simon spoils you rotten though and only has himself to blame for it at this point. Any time he manages to get you laid out before him it is a guarantee he’ll finish you off at least twice.

Hell it’s practically a necessity, the only thing stopping him from proceeding with his initial plan. Your body would choke down on him, usually needing to be fucked open with his mouth and fingers before being able to take the length of him without protest.

You’re squirming again. The break from his tongue lashing against your clit allows you to regain some composure but still twitching in anticipation.

Not that your respite lasts for long. Simon trails one of his fingers across the seam of your lower lips, watching how your legs jerk on impulse as his touch ghosts across your swollen clit.

“So sensitive,” he teases as you let out a plaintive whine at the contact.

His middle finger slips past your folds, sliding easily all the way to the 3rd knuckle. Giving a few slow thrusts, his ring finger soon joins.

The room is quiet except for the sound of your breaths and how absolutely wet you are. It’s filthy how his fingers squelch inside your cunt. Your moans pick up as he deliberately drags the pads of his fingers across that spongy spot inside of you.

Your brain seems to only be able to remember two words- “Simon” and “please”, chanting them as he works you closer to the edge.

“Be a good girl for me,” he answers cryptically, biting back a laugh at the tortured look on your face. Be a good girl and cum? Or be a good girl and don’t cum?

The hand not buried in your cunt trails up your body- amusement flickering across his face as you jolt from ticklish spots, his hand roaming up your belly, between your breasts and taking its place wrapped around your throat.

Your brain remembers three more words, the alternating chants broken by your accusatory “You’re being mean,”

He is. He’s done worse to you for sure, but he knows the accusation is also another plea. I don’t know how much longer I can hold back please let me cum and call me a good girl- I want to be good.

“You ever consider you’re a spoiled little princess?” He muses to you, lips hovering over your own as he awaits the smart assed retort he just knows-

“It’s your fault I’m like this,” there it is. He grins, giving a chaste peck that is wildly juxtaposed to the sinful things he’s doing to you.

The hand wrapped around your throat tightens. Not enough to damage your delicate wind pipe but enough to put the pressure on the blood vessels in your neck. He adjusts his other hand ever so slightly so his thumb can press against your clit, circling in firm movements in time as his ring and middle fingers work that one spot inside of you.

He gets the desired result- you clenching on his fingers, bucking and squirming uselessly.

“Sorry, what was that?” He asks with a falsely sweet tone, grinning as you hiss.

All the pressure from his hand is placed on the sides of your neck, your pleas and protests turning into mindless babbling.

Simon isn’t entirely without mercy, he just enjoys pushing you as close to the brink as he can.

“Come on then, love- cum for me.” He finally allows, watching with rapt attention as your eyes damn near cross.

His wrist and forearm are wet as you gush around his hand, grinning as your mess is timed with each thrust of his fingers. He doesn’t withdraw until he’s certain he’s wrung every last drop from you, although you’re not left unattended for long.

His grip on your neck lets up, doubly to let you recover from your orgasm as you gasp like a stranded fish as much as it is to have both hands free to position you how he wants.

Mindful that there’s not much slack to pull you down with, Simon holds you steady while he moves to place himself between your legs.

Your flesh is hot, swollen and needy as he lines himself up, one hand on your hip and the other grasping his length. Pliant as you are from your orgasm, it still takes a few thrusts to work you open enough to take the full length of him.

Simon is more than willing to feed you inch by inch of his cock, relishing in the wet suction of your body as you cling and clench around him.

“That feel good, pretty?” He poses the question to you as his hips clap against yours once you’re warmed up and taking him all the way to the base.

“Yes! Simon- yes!”

And what a fucking sight you make. Laid on your back, arms stretching over your head towards the headboard. Those pretty, plush thighs spread wide to accommodate him, giving Simon quite the show- watching as he buries himself in you to the hilt over and over and over again.

He damn near wants to drool watching how your body bounces from the recoil of each snap of his hips. Makes his mouth water- makes him want to turn you into a fucking chew toy, the need to bury his teeth in your soft flesh. His eyes will flick from one part of you to the next, reveling in the soft bounce of your thighs, your belly, your breasts- he couldn’t pry his gaze away, enraptured with the doe eyed, fucked-dumb look on your face when his eyes drift up high enough.

“Whose cunt is this?”

The answer to the question is obvious, and one you know well. It’s not even really the actual question he has- more the lead up than anything else.

“Yours!” He shifts himself slightly, the change in angle working for you based on how you bark out “Oh! Right there!”

Simon grinned, knowing full well what he's doing as he moves to his original position. “You gonna prove it, love?”

Your head must be swimming from the delayed response- frustrated at him for deliberately ignoring your plea and changing the rhythm on purpose.

“Prove it?” Those glassy eyes focus on him, the words sounded out slowly by your cock drunk brain.

“Prove this cunt’s mine,” a sharp thrust elicits a yelp that’s just shy of, but nearing the border of too much. “Oughta fuck a baby into you. Show everyone you belong to me.”

The way you clench down on him draws a grunt deep from his chest, telling him just what you think of that idea.

“Everyone’ll know what a good fucking girl you are,” he’s working himself up, winding tighter and tighter as his mind runs away from him entirely. “Lifting your” he staggers as your clench is timed perfectly with his thrust “-fucking skirt for me,” a few more quick thrusts, “spreading those gorgeous thighs,” his hands are gripping your waist like a lifeline- “letting me have my way with you and not- wasting- a- fucking- drop.” his last words punctuated with strong snaps of his hips.

He’s babbling now, face buried in the crook of your neck as each thrust draws staccato cries from you. “Gonna look so fucking pretty- not gonna be able to take my damn hands off of you,” which was saying something given the current rate he was either bending you over or tying you up.

You clenching around him like a vice wasn’t helping matters either. “Simon please- I want it. Baby I want it. Please cum in me-“ and how was he ever going to ignore a request like that? With you asking so nicely while your cunt works its magic on his cock.

His body dwarfs yours, all broad shoulders and delicious muscling from years of training and physical work that comes with the job. You’re caged under him as he raises his head from your neck and his mouth crashes into yours.

“Mine,” he groans out between kisses. There’s going to be bruises across your body as his grip tightens on you- one hand still fisting the flesh of your hip, the other hooking underneath one of your knees and spreading that leg out to the side, fingers digging into the skin of your thigh as you both grunt at the change in angle.

The noises the two of you are making are absolutely obscene; the slap of his heavy balls against your ass, the wet sound of your cunt taking every last inch of him. Simon’s damn near on the verge of hyperventilating, keyed up as he is between you being as receptive as you’ve been to his dirty talk, reciprocating by pleading him to cum in you. How your thighs are trembling, muscles wound tight as you strain against your binds.

He prides himself on not being a selfish lover. Even as worked up as he is, the forefront thought in his mind chasing his own pleasure so he can be a good husband and fill you up like you’re pleading for so so prettily- there’s still that one part that keys into your reactions. Making sure you’re loving every stroke he gives as he chases his own high, that those yelps don’t take a turn for too much instead of please god don’t stop don’t stop don-

His vision whites out for a second as his orgasm hits him like a bus. The coil that had been twisting tighter and tighter springs free as he buries himself in you one last time with a groan befitting a wounded animal.

The urge to collapse settles on him, but Ghost pushes it aside. You’re tied to the bed, entirely unable to take the brunt of his weight like that and wouldn’t be able to wiggle out from under him with your hands bound.

He grounds himself as he comes down by peppering you in kisses, hands roaming your body. Your face, your neck- anywhere he can reach until he feels his legs are steady enough to comply with what he asks of them.

You’re still keyed up, having been worked close to a second orgasm but not quite getting to cross the threshold before Simon. He can hear you distantly, mewling and pleading for him to finish you off and has every intention of following through.

Moving back down between your legs, a shiver runs up his spine as his over sensitive cock drags across the sheets. Settling with his face between your legs he takes a moment to observe his handwork.

Your cunt’s pretty and swollen- sensitive to, from how you jerk when his breath fans against you. Making soothing motions on your hip with one hand as he shushes you, his eyes focus on the thin line of his spend dribbling out of you.

Well that simply won’t do.

He uses one finger to trace back up your folds, pushing his cum back exactly where it belongs before sliding two fingers into you once again.

It doesn’t escape his notice how much easier it is this time, your fucked open body still soft and pliant for him. He debates teasing you about it for a second but the look on your face has it clear you’re close to crying- tension and anticipation having tears welling up in your eyes.

Spoiled the thought flashes across his head. Course it doesn’t help that he’s utterly whipped. He’ll give you anything you ask for just because you want it.

His head drops, eyes on you while his tongue lashes as your clit and his fingers fuck his cum back into you.

You cry and strain and buck against his hold. Simon knows he won’t have to wait long to feel you clenching around his fingers- it never does when he uses his mouth and fingers at the same time.

But he does wonder how quick he can wring a third out of you once he pushes you over the second time.

He’ll find out shortly- you’re already babbling, knowing the routine and half afraid he’ll make you hold it please let me cum please-

“Go on, pet.” He doesn’t so much pry his face away as he just mouths into your flesh, but got the same result either way.

Your back arches as you clamp tight on his fingers- Simon doesn’t let that get in the way of his ministrations, continuing to mouth at your clit and stroke that spot in you until your cries of pleasure turn into okay okay okay oka-

He doesn’t stop. You try crawling away from him but he puts a stop to that by quickly banding his forearm across your abdomen.

You have a safeword- kettle- if it actually was too much, and unless he hears you say it he’s going to keep a hold of you like a dog being threatened with having his favorite toy taken from him.

You’re being fucking loud, no way the neighbors can’t hear you unless they’re simply not home, and Simon doesn’t give a singular shit as he works you from your second orgasm clear into your third.

His efforts are rewarded with another rush of your cum, soaking his face and dripping down his chin.

Good. He’s still fixated on the idea of you being fat with his child, and the way he sees it the more he gets you to cum the better his chances are of it taking.

Your efforts to squirm out of his grip only increase, futile as they are.

“One more,” he lifts his head to offer you. “Be a good girl and give me one more.”

Those tears that had welled earlier are falling now, and Simon thinks you look absolutely divine with tear tracks down your face, make up smeared to hell.

“Okay,” you nod with a shaky breath- hips still trembling but no longer trying to squirm away from him.

He descends on you once again, intending to make the most of your compliance. What a good little wife he has.

He’s got your fourth orgasm rushing over you in record time, relishing in the way you tense and relax as your body tries to fight the overstimulation before your mind would quiet it. His hand strokes your hip and thigh soothingly, mumbling praises into your skin the entire time.

True to his word, he pulls away once you’ve come down.

You’re watching him with glassy eyes, limbs trembling as you finally catch a reprieve from his mouth.

“I’ll untie you now, okay love?” He’s checking where you are mentally, if he pushed too far-

You nod to him, eyes following as he steps away from the bed to grab the keys off the nightstand.

Your wrists are released from the cuffs only to be encircled by Simon’s hands- so much bigger than your own- as he gently rubs them and checks for any marks. “You alright, love?”

The soft smile you flash him has him ready to melt. “I’m good,” he watches you stretch, the slight wince. “Shoulder’s a bit tight.”

“I’ll run us a bath and we’ll see what I can do about that hm? How about you think about what you want for take out?”

He starts to turn, tethered in place as you reach out for him.

“Don’t go yet.”

He lets you lead him back into bed with a light pull on his hand.

Absolutely spoiled rotten, and yet Simon will gladly give or do anything for you if only you ask for it.

[going-to-ikea-for-the-fries]

It's a Match! || poly!141 x Reader

[Chapter Pre-27] || [Chapter 28]

Pairing: Price x gn!Reader || 141 x gn!Reader Words: 1.2K cw: none Summary: While overcoming recent heartbreak, you decide to join Tinder in search of a rebound. Your friends advise to just Swipe Right indiscriminately... What happens when 4 soldiers from the same squad match with you? a/n: Just a cute little moment + us clowning on all the lads bc ofc

Chapter 27: Peace and Quiet.

When you asked John to take you away, him taking you on a whole boat was not what you had in mind.

Granted, he did take you to his home in Credenhill beforehand; a cosy two-bedroom row home, which was surprisingly well-furnished for a single man in his 40s.

After having dinner on Friday night with him (John is a surprisingly good cook!) and cuddling together on the sofa before ending the night in bed, late on Saturday morning he awoke you with brunch in bed.

You half expected a lazy Saturday... only for him to tell you that you were going on an adventure.

So you ended up down south, on river Severn, on a boat. No, not a goddamn rickety fishing boat; a bloody yacht. A small one, but one nonetheless.

That didn't stop him from wearing a fishing hat. Come to think of it, you very rarely see John without a hat, only indoors. But last night when he went to get you, he was wearing a toque... He wears those a lot.

Apparently, John is an avid fan of boating. And bought one a few years back.

"Was this just an attempt at showing off?" You teased him as you stood by his side, one of his arms wrapped around your hip as the boat cruised out to the mouth of the river.

"No, da'lin', would never dream of it." John replied with a cheeky grin.

"I feel like you're lying to me." You replied as you leaned against him, eyes locked on the beautiful view of the cityscapes as you sailed out to the sea.

"Not lying, just... embellishing the truth." He joked and nuzzled up to you, pressing a kiss to the back of your neck as he pulled you to sit on his lap at the command of the boat.

"Right..." You said sarcastically, feigning annoyance, before melting at the feel of his kisses, his nose nuzzling into your hair, his beard tickling your nape.

"Plus, maybe, perhaps, I was worried the lads were going to try and crash out little getaway..." He whispered as he kept dropping little kisses onto you. "Yeah?" You asked as you looked up and back at him.

"They know where I live... Simon does, at least. And I doubt he'd show up, but... he likes you a whole lot." John murmured and then started peppering kisses to your neck.

Shivering a bit, you chuckled. "And you don't share, do you?" You joked.

"Oh, I share. But you asked me to take you away, not to bring 'em with." He quipped with a smirk on his lips.

"Haven't seen you share yet, so my point still stands." You retorted as you narrowed your eyes playfully at him.

"Oh, is that how it is? You're a 'need to see it to believe it', type of person?" He joked and rubbed his lips against the shell of your ear.

"Mhm..." You replied as your eyes closed, leaning back into him, feeling his displays of affection.

Your hands found his extended forearms as his hands controlled the boat on either side of you. You caressed his strong, hairy forearms, a weak attempt at returning the affection.

"How about you go sit out there... Feel the sea air, the water splashing on you..." He offered. "Lay out in the sun, get a bit of a tan?"

"John, we're off the coast in Wales. There's not going to be a tan." You told him playfully.

"Humour me, will you?" He asked you and shook his head, amused.

Nodding, you got up off his lap, kissing him on the lips one last time before you slipped into the cabin to get changed into a swimsuit and then back out.

You sat outside, where John could see you from the cockpit, and took his advice to heart, lounging on the foam chairs at the bow, enjoying the cool water splashing and the sun in the horizon. It was actually enjoyable.

You sneaked a glance at John as he drove the boat, smiling at him, before you decided to put on some sunscreen, just in case. John watched you closely and made a point of showing you how much he enjoyed the sight of you putting it on. At one point he even wolf whistled at you.

After a while, John slowed the boat down and moored it. You didn't think much of it, though the area you were in was beautiful. Nothing but the two of you for miles, the ocean rocking the boat nicely and the sun shining ahead.

John comes to join you, in his own swimming trunks, pulling you close, and peppering kisses all over your back, shoulders, nape... You find yourself giggling. There was something about John... Perhaps the fact he was older, but his attention felt so... nice.

"Is this what you wanted?" He asked. "Some good ol' peace and quiet?"

"Mhm..." You replied as you rolled over to face him. Then, you burst out laughing.

How were you supposed to not? The man had haphazardly lathered himself in sunscreen and was still wearing the bloody fishing hat!

"John, I can't-" You joked.

"What?" He asked in confusion, eyebrows raised.

"You look like a dad on vacation!" You joked and resumed your fit of giggles.

"You calling me old?" He asked in an exaggerated tone.

"No!" You said as you pushed yourself up onto your knees, running your hands over his face to spread the sunscreen more evenly. "You just..." You trailed off.

"I'll have ya know I'm still in my prime." He murmured, his thick beard covering his mouth with each word he spoke.

"You're also a dork." You retorted, feeling his hands slide up your thighs as he pulled you onto his lap.

"Oh? Would a dork have a pretty thing like you in a swimsuit in his arms while on his own boat?" He retorted before leaning close and peppering a kiss on your lips.

"I guess not." You replied playfully. "But the hat certainly doesn't help." You added and slipped it off his head. "See? So much better..."

"I happen to like my boonie hat." He told you as he kept peppering kisses on your face. "I wear it all the time when I'm in the field."

"No way?" You asked dramatically. "You mean you wear this when you're out there with your rifles and what not?" You asked as you lifted the hat off the seat next to you.

"Yes?" He told you, causing you to break into laughter again. "What? It's not that bad, is it?" He asked, feigning insecurity.

"No, it's just-" You trailed off. "First, Simon with his skull mask, then you with your boonie hat... What's next?" You asked.

"Kyle wears a baseball cap with the British flag more often than not." John replied, causing you to shriek with laughter.

"NO?!" You replied, incredulously. "No way?! He dresses so nicely out of uniform, you're telling me he also does the 'one hat' thing?"

"Absolutely he does. Have to ask him to take it off sometimes. It's like it's glued to 'im." He joked as his hands caress your body lovingly.

"What about Johnny?" You asked with narrowed eyes.

"Doesn't wear anything. Just that stupid bloody mohawk." He replied.

"Is it because of his big head?" You joked, which caused you both to break into laughter this time.

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[buttdumplin]

Thinking self-indulgent thoughts regarding the 141 boys and their little quirks with a spanish speaking reader. Some stumbling through their accents, some begging for more, some keeping their own knowledge of the language secret. I might come back to this later...

[hxnneydew]

Me everytime the two of you:

hmmmmmm dating price who tells you that he used to sleep with the rest of the 141 before he met you. asking him if he misses sleeping with them. him admitting he does sometimes but only because he wants to see you with them too. bringing it up to all of them one night in your living room. soap and gaz are excited but ghost excuses himself for a smoke. following him out to make sure he’s okay. making out with him after he admits he still wants price and also wants you