#and soap likes that in a man

[ghcstao3]

despite what simon might claim, he is completely oblivious to flirting.

the signals often just fly over his head. he’ll nod and hum along to some story being recited to him in low voices and purring tones like it’s nothing more than friendly conversation. he’ll casually and unthinkingly shrug off any flirty touches, say thank you to compliments and move on. everyone thinks he’s just letting them down gently, or playing hard to get, but the reality is just that simon never registers anything subtle and implied as flirting.

it’s the same when an attractive bartender shoots him a wink and a charming smile, sliding him his bourbon and saying it’s on the house. confused, simon merely returns a polite smile and offers his debit card, thinking the scotsman behind the counter is only making a joke.

but then the bartender is pausing, staring at simon with his head cocked not unlike a puppy, bemused. he doesn’t take the card, and that frustrates simon, just a little.

“it’s on the house,” the bartender repeats, less flirtatious though no less interested.

simon frowns. “why?”

the bartender laughs. “because it is. i’m trying to flirt with you.”

simon’s eyes widen at that. he feels his face grow warmer the longer he processes the words, unable to respond with anything more than a short, pathetic, “oh.”

“aye, oh,” the bartender teases. then his smile falters. “unless that’s your way of turning me down.”

distractedly, simon shakes his head, heart pounding loud in his ears, louder than the music. puzzlement has shifted to disbelief, simon unable to comprehend how this handsome scotsman could ever be interested in him. and yet.

“then it’s still on the house,” says the bartender, nodding to the drink. “my name’s john, by the way. and my shift ends in twenty.”

then, quickly, watching the slight pinch of simon’s brows, john adds, “i’m letting you know so you can meet me outside, if you’d be interested.”

simon nods, slowly, because upon reflection—yeah, he would be interested.

simon just about melts on the spot when john grins at him again and says can’t wait.

[bluegiragi]

a bit judge-y there simon.

early access + nsfw on patreon prints

[rosegolden13]

You had long since lost track of what Captain John Price was yelling in your face. Yes, you had almost gotten yourself killed on the latest mission. Did you regret it when you realized you’d have a limp for a bit? Yes. Did you regret it now, hearing that gruff accented voice directed at you? Hell no.

Even during debriefs, you could get lost in the gentle rumble of his voice. But this right now was something different. His words were biting, filled with an intensity that you normally only saw in the midst of missions- not on base and not directed at you.

You bit down on the soft plush of your bottom lip and a moment of silence settles over you. His icy blue eyes bore into yours. It’s like staring down a dog that’s about to snap its teeth at you again. Needing to fill the silence, you gave a quick response, “What was that last part, sir?” This’ll piss him off more but that’s what you want.

He stares at you a moment, processing your audacity before exploding once again. “Bloody fuckin’ hell, Sergeant! You don’t listen to me here, you don’t listen to me on the field. It’s a fuckin’ miracle you’ve survived this long. Pull that shit again, I dare ya, girl. What the fuck is wrong with you?” His voice is a low growl as he steps closer, like he’s about to reach for the back of your neck and jostle some sense into you.

Your cheeks are flushed at this point. There’s no denying that or the subtle ache between your legs. You let out a slow breath, spotting movement in your peripheral and meeting Soap’s gaze. He seems to see right through you, a cocky smirk on his face. “She’s got the hots for ya, Cap’n. Tha’s wha’s wrong with her.”

Price stares at you a moment more, completely taken aback as he reassesses you. And then he turns around, muttering something about not getting paid enough. You stand there mortified before chasing off after Soap to berate him for outing you like that.

[vozart]

sleepy clingy giant

[spurbleu]

it’s over the minute you start playing hide and seek.

johnny has a big family. his siblings have kids, his parents siblings have kids who also have kids, which means a holiday leave offers limited privacy and abundant chaos.

he’s learned to embrace it. adores it, even. kids stroke his ego like no other, and the more he can see his parents the less he pays attention to the new wrinkles and the reality he only has so much time to hold their hand. to be someone’s son.

but you? the sweet, unassuming bird who he met by happenstance, who’s the first person he’s brought home for an approaching decade? he winces as he grabs your bags from the trunk- already expecting the fawning- the embarrassing prattles they’ll throw your way.

he was not expecting you to navigate it though.

the adults love you. turns out all the same charms that had him whipped works fairly well with his relatives. three glasses of wine in and he can still hear his aunt laughing. genuinely. that’s a miracle.

and don’t even get him started with the nieces and nephews.

stole all his thunder and he isn’t even mad about it. watches as they chase you in the backyard, cartwheeling around while you catch your breath.

his sister nudges him in the side and he starts.

“how’d ye catch a bonnie like tat?”

you send him a lopesided smile from across bronzing grass. you’re glowing.

yeah, he’s a goner. “couldnae tell ye.”

[shotmrmiller]

soap and ghost have to flip a coin (or rock paper scissors) when it comes to who gets to fuck you first and whoever wins actually mourns the win because soap loves the feel of you wet and sticky when full of simon's spend and simon prefers going after johnny because that way you're usually three orgasms in and pliant (he doesn't have to be so careful when first sinking in) and can go as fast as he wants and as hard as he likes without the risk of hurting you.

[wombywoo]

bad dreams 🌙

[gothghostiie]

something babysitter!reader waiting for price to drive them home while he's on video call with one of his friends, the little one in his lap, tapping around on the screen; until it somehow does something to make the screen go weird. he chuckles and shows you, inevitably holding the camera right onto you for a moment and showing you before turning it back on him. all you hear from the phone now is a curious hum. "who's the lil' tulip on the couch?"

[chloesimaginationthings]

This is basically Michael in FNAF Sister location,,

[ceilidho]

hmmmmm im usually not into vampires, but thinking about a vampire biting a human mid hookup because there’s no way he’s giving up pussy this good. look forward to the next thousand years with the Worst Guy Ever

[s0fter-sin]

thinking about the way ghost doesn't hesitate to start killing shadows when graves betrays them but soap only takes one hostage

you can almost hear the voice in his head telling him it doesn't have to be this way; they can still talk it out

"i'm calling shepherd"

his first instinct when confronted with betrayal is to play it by the books: to go up the chain. that goes against everything we've seen him do. he bucks authority at every chance except for the one time he's confronted with the barrels of his allies' guns

he wants a peaceful resolution; for the first time we've ever seen, he doesn't want violence to be the answer. there has to be another fix, a solution that doesn't end with him killing the same men he's been working with; his friends

nothing's happened yet

it doesn't have to go this way

but ghost has been betrayed before. he knows the way this ends; either with him six feet under or his enemy

he doesn't hesitate

it's only when they knock alejandro out that soap shoots; when they spill the first blood and cross a line they can never come back from

only when ghost orders him to run and he has to cover his retreat

and somewhere along the line, between civilians’ screams and taunting voices, between his shaking breath and ghost steady in his ear, that naivety is stripped away; his trust turned to teeth that he uses to sink into throats of men he'd have given his life for

"be careful who you trust, sergeant; people you know can hurt you the most"

he's learned the price of trust

just like ghost did

but unlike ghost, he has someone to guide him through the aftermath

"good advice, It"

[sky-is-the-limit]

"𝑰𝒏 𝒂 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒍𝒅 𝒐𝒇 𝒃𝒐𝒚𝒔, 𝒉𝒆'𝒔 𝒂 𝒈𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒍𝒆𝒎𝒂𝒏."

[srfiv]

and whenever they couldn't speak they looked at eachother

[rowarn]

there is not a single man in 141 who doesn't make out with your pussy btw. not anonymous i die like caesar

SO TRUE !!!

and they've all got different styles !!!!!

simon is meticulous and controlling. he pins you down, spreads your legs open and EATS. he knows exactly what he's doing and how to use his tongue. he uses his fingers in combination, sometimes he ducks you with his fingers while he sucks your clit sometimes he pinches and rolls your clit under his fingers while he fucks you with his tongue. but make no mistake you will only take what he is WILLING to give you, you won't be greedy and take from him. he's only willing to give if you're good for him!! he's also not afraid to punish you by depriving you of his tongue because he's so good with it that you crave it. so it's best to just behave and let him do as he pleases <3

soap is sloppy and intense. he wants you to sit on his face so he can drown in your cum. uses his whole mouth and face when he eats pussy. engulfs your pussy whole with his mouth, slobbers all over your clit and licks his tongue into your hole to taste everything you've got. you don't even need to be greedy with him because he's already giving you whatever you could possibly want. all you can do it lay there and take it, moaning and twitching as he rips orgasm after orgasm right from your little cunt. doesn't really use his fingers but he doesn't need to because that devious mouth does ALL the work either of you need !!!

kyle is generous and sweet. eating you out is a whole event for this man. it's sometimes just the main event. he's not selfish, he doesn't even need to fuck you to feel good. your pleasure is always at the forefront of his mind. his top priority. hell, he'll light some candles, sit with you in the bath, caressing you and kissing you, working you up and teasing you. all so when he's finally got you spread on the bed, you're needy and pliant for him. he focuses on your clit, loves to worship that little bud because he knows that's where it feels best for you. but he'll follow any of your cues; if you need more deeper pleasure, he'll give you his fingers. if you want it sloppy he'll fuck you with his tongue. you can ride his face if you ask nicely but he prefers to have you laid back, spread open and relaxed so he can just worship you. will eat you until you're cumming as many times as you need. he doesn't care if he's there for 2 hours, jaw aching - if you want him there, he's staying. he is born to please and worship. he's sweet with his words too, telling you how pretty and soft you are, how good you taste, how gorgeous you look cumming for him. when he starts to get real fucked out he started begging into your pussy, begging for you to cum while his voice breaks and he humps the bed, boxers messy with cum he'd already spilled all over himself.

[unspecifiedfigure]

watching the sunset together alive and well after early retirement <3

[shotmrmiller]

just porn. and a comparison of cocks:>

finally deciding to sleep with ghoap after dating them for a couple of months, but because they're overwhelming together— you'd like to breathe, not drown— you decide to be with them separately for now to experience their gravity one at a time without getting completely swept away.

(you don't know whether to be insulted that they're playing rock-paper-scissors on who gets to go first or flattered that they both desperately want to be first. simon wins and johnny pouts.)

with simon, you'd been outright terrified. that thing between his legs didn't spring up when you made him lose the pants, didn't bob with each step he took toward the bed, toward you; gravity pulled it downward, each step he took made it sway heavily. if he hadn't taken the time to work you open, his thick fingers curling as his tongue focused on the apex of your pussy until your slick traced a sinuous path down his wrist, coming to stickily drip from his elbow onto the sheets, it would've ached a lot more than it did.

because it did. ache, that is. there was no staving off the discomfort of the stretch, the sting only spreading its sharp tendrils further when you took him to the root, the orgasms simon had wrenched from you only a thin barrier against the full brunt of it. but fortunately, your generous lover gave you as much time as you'd needed to accommodate, to give in, to surrender, and the pain bloomed into warm, rich pleasure when his hand slithered down to your hips, the pads of his fingers brushing over your oh so tender pearl and when you'd keened out a sigh, he'd begun to fuck you in earnest and anything after that is one big blur.

simon is a big guy. massive, really, built like he belonged on the battlefield. he did not take up space; he was space, so you hadn't been surprised that he'd been as egregiously endowed as he was. painfully fitting, you reckon.

so, when it's johnny that's pressing hot, wet kisses against the smooth column of your throat, you're gulping down a sigh of sharp relief when he breathes that while he's not as blessed as simon, he'll treat you better than him, he promises.

(still sore from having lost that silly game, you notice.)

johnny's thickly built but compact— all muscle and tightly coiled energy, like a fire burning too close, so you're expecting him to be proportionate the same way simon was.

oh, how grievously wrong you were.

what he lacked in length, barely an inch or two, who cares, was insignificant compared to his sheer, staggering girth. you'd thought simon was overwhelming, but johnny was something else entirely. it hung ominously, the thin, groomed skin above it seemingly stretched taut, strained with its density. what's worse, it didn't sway with his movements; it just hung there, rigid, a deadweight.

you'd survived simon just to die at the hands— and cock— of johnny.

figures.

(time had seemingly slowed when johnny had begun to sink into you, every second stretching as painfully as your poor cunt, fire licking at your nerves, spreading through your limbs in waves, one more intense than the last. your breath is shallow and uneven as your body resists, stubborn against the intrusion and johnny hooks his arm under your leg, just at the crook of his elbow— easy does it, hen, breathe f'r me— and he cants your hips to that sweet angle that allows him to slip in, like a stone sinking into a pond. The flood of relief you feel is euphoric in contrast to the raw feel of you being stretched to your absolute limit, and while the tension isn't completely gone, the fragile respite perched right on the edge of discomfort, it is a victory.)