#lord have mercy .

[ffsjustletmesleep]

im going insane

………..

[daddy-valtteri]

Via @tiffanycromwell's ig

[keptinonzebridge]

SPOCK ISN'T PREGNANT, BUT HE DID DELIVER

[vaelerius]

endless gifs of rhea - 36 / ∞ 🍑 edition

[raspberriesss]

Thinking about Simon being obsessed with watching you cook.

Simon “Ghost” Riley x fem!reader

𓂃⊹ ִֶָ

Ever since Simon came home from deployment he’s been clinging onto you constantly. “Missed you, lovie,” he’d tell you, trying to justify his constant hold on you. Sure, you thought it was cute, this big military man clinging onto you like some kind of koala; but his intentions weren’t always as innocent as they seemed.

•·················•·················••·················•·················••···············•

The day had begun to wind down, the sky painted in an ombré of colors as it set, the chitter chatter from the TV spreading into the kitchen. You’ve cooked everyday since Simon came home, enjoying the comfort of another filled seat at the dinner table.

There you stood, mincing up a garlic clove for the pasta dish you decided to make tonight. The faint bubbling from the pot on the stove filled your ears as you turned your gaze to it, pouring the rigatoni pasta into the boiling water.

A soft patter of feet could be heard against the tile floor of the kitchen, it could only be one person. The warmth of a strong chest pressed against your back, hands wrapping around your waist gently, nudging you back to him. “Whatcha making tonight?” He murmured out by your ear, his gruff voice only sounding raspier from the low tone.

“I’m just making some pasta, s’all,” you said, moving back over the cutting board on the counter, his large stature slightly restricting your movement. Your movement seemed to make his grip grow tighter on you, one of your elbows nudging back against his bicep. “I can’t cook when you’re holding onto me like this, Si,” you said with a huff of a laugh.

He seemed to ignore your words, his face burying in the crook of your neck, stubble scratching against your skin. “You’re just s’gorgeous,” he breathed out against your skin, his large hands moving down to grip the plush skin on your hips. “Simon,” you said softly, head leaning over a bit, enjoying the feel of his breath on your skin. “What’s wrong, hm?” He questioned quietly at your call of his name, his chapped lips pressing a soft kiss to the sensitive skin on your neck. “Just wanna watch y’cook, s’all,” he breathed out against your skin, his words clearly far from the truth.

You decided to try and ignore his soft touches, beginning to mince up the rest of the garlic clove from earlier. His kisses only got more insistent, teeth nipping gently at your skin, his tongue soothing over the skin afterward. “Simon, I can’t,” you began, dropping the knife back down onto the cutting board. “M’sorry, can’t help it when ya looking so good in here,” he said gruffly, one of his calloused hands coming up to paw at one of your breasts over the fabric of your t-shirt. The feeling of something hard was pressing insistently against the small of your back, what could that be? causing your cheeks to only flush a deeper shade of pink.

“Simon,” you breathed out at his touch, head leaning back against him, eyes fluttering closed. He couldn’t help but grin against your skin, moving his face up by yours, pressing a chaste kiss to your cheek. “Think the pasta’s done, love,” he said softly, pulling away from you, and walking back into the living room.

•·················•·················••·················•·················••···············•

Part 2 (alternate ending)

[luzstarkey]

pov i was on my period ☺️

[thore-lb]

SHOWTIME SKETCH'S ❤

I have two side...

[zinkysworld]

[disgruntledexplainer]

There is a 2-year-old kid at my church who just got leukemia. Please pray for him.

[bcmbiquinn]

Best seat around

[sweethotspot]

Lord, have mercy

[metallicames]

LORD HAVE MERCY

(This could be his face while you fuck each other)

[samodivaa]

Bucky with an oral fixation due to his anxiety so you let him suck your big tits (smut)

Bucky’s heart may fail him in so many horrors—both in waking, from his nerves, and in sleep, from his nightmares, because the punishment of his disordered mind is its own disorder. A disorder nobody else has. There is no cure, but he is trying to master it, he is learning to live with it—just as he has learned to live with other storms of his mind. The impossibility of love? He has you now. The past can't be annihilated, it is a part of him. Regret, denial, sadness—it leads to anxiety and his habit of always chewing on something—gum, sweets. He holds his breath, a desperate attempt to slow down his heartbeat, a desperate attempt to get away. One second. Two seconds. The moment he chews on the pencil you gifted him for that purpose, he is feeling better. No amount of him trying to explain himself is doing any good, he doesn’t even know what is going on inside of him—but your observation is the first step of the inner unfolding, of finding a solution to every problem he has. You create so much love, compassion, equanimity and joy in his mind that he doesn’t feel ashamed or judged. But seeing him biting down on that pencil—once you've seen how broken he is, it's like seeing him naked. How can you help now? “Bucky, why don't you suck on my tits instead?”

His gaze, though almost improper, is the most sensual thing he could have done at the moment, and it jolts your heart into a strange rhythm, leaving you unable to speak. There is lust and then there is love. They are related, but still very different things—you surge forward, crossing the final, tiny gap and pressing your lips to his. It is desperate and frantic, but the feel of his mouth against yours sends a bolt of electricity straight down your spine. Bucky grips your waist and lifts you off the ground with ease, dropping you softly on the luxurious white linen bed. He gets on top and the gentle, erotic pressure of his mouth on yours, the compelling pleasure of his kiss—the world stops and all the silence, but for your hearts, trying to synchronize your crashing. It is all the thrill of these kisses, of your new naughty suggestion. It is the impatience of the way he tears your shirt from your body, that really turns you on—lust getting the better of him, Bucky is a gentle lover, but not today which makes a jolt of some foreign but not unwelcome sensation pierce you. He leans down, his breath hot against your ear as he mutters out: “I already love that idea, baby”

You let out an involuntary airy moan as he grabs them in his palms, his huge hands palming your tits, kneading gently at first before he rubs his palms in circles. He rolls one nipple between his fingers, humming in satisfaction as it hardens under his touch before he begins to suck on it while massaging your other tit. He's drooling, swirling his tongue over it before biting gently the nipple and he is thankful that your head is thrown back so you don't look how desperate he is. How fucked up he is. He fully embraces the deliciousness of this sin, the calmness that it brings to his mind and all you want to drown his worries. You want him to do something totally unlike himself and it is working—but this lust is something close to anguish, because he needs to stop eventually and he doesn't want to. He leans back a bit, searching for your eyes as he struggles to breathe, focusing on his lungs, on his ability to take deep breaths, to soothe with oxygen—the vast ocean of blue that is his eyes, remarkably focused and soft at the same time. “I love it, I love how big they are” he says thickly and completely without shame. He bites down on the curve of your breast, breathing softly on top of the skin “Can’t stop,” he says, the words coming out like a caress. He says it again, over and over. A litany. As your clothed cunt contracts at the friction against his pelvis, his words, you can feel him, hips bucking slowly up into you. He latches his mouth directly on your other nipple, making you cry out as he envelops a part of your breast into his mouth, a hand coming up to play with the other one. “Bucky—enough”  Your hands go to his hair as he sucks sharply on the breast, but you can’t pull him away. You can’t help the whimpers that escape you, the long drawn out sobs that punch out of your throat whenever he bites a little harder, giving your other nipple a harsher tug as a punishment every time you try to push him back. Sucking removes any daily existence from his mind, any anxiety, grounding Bucky firmly in the moment and dragging your body with it. Until he had enough. What a beautiful madness, he never felt so relaxed.

[wrr000]

I feel like we need to talk more about certain *moments* from the game...

He can kill me, revive me, then kill me again and I would THANK HIM

[propussyslayer]

CHECK THIS SHIT OUT