🍟‼️Masterlist‼️🍟
(I figure I’ll make a small master list just in case I end up posting more fics, and so the couple that I have posted are easy to find!!!)
Call of Duty
Run and hide…or don’t
Wolf stuck in a bear trap
Illegal bars
Illegal Bars Pt. 2

⁂

★
d e v o n
Today's Document
Alisa U Zemlji Chuda
Cosimo Galluzzi

❣ Chile in a Photography ❣

祝日 / Permanent Vacation
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
2025 on Tumblr: Trends That Defined the Year

ellievsbear
I'd rather be in outer space 🛸
Peter Solarz
Monterey Bay Aquarium
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"

Discoholic 🪩

JBB: An Artblog!
No title available
Stranger Things
Xuebing Du
seen from Italy

seen from France

seen from Malaysia
seen from Ireland
seen from Algeria

seen from Singapore
seen from Argentina
seen from United States

seen from Canada

seen from Malaysia
seen from United States

seen from Malaysia
seen from United Kingdom

seen from Belgium

seen from Malaysia

seen from Malaysia
seen from Netherlands
seen from Canada
seen from United States

seen from Ireland
@fries-pls
🍟‼️Masterlist‼️🍟
(I figure I’ll make a small master list just in case I end up posting more fics, and so the couple that I have posted are easy to find!!!)
Call of Duty
Run and hide…or don’t
Wolf stuck in a bear trap
Illegal bars
Illegal Bars Pt. 2
cw: post MW3; angst; hurt/comfort | fem!Reader × S. Riley
Simon has been watching you for the past weeks since the world has tilted on its axis a second time in his life.
Johnny is dead. Price is gone. Kyle is trying to keep things running. The 141 is no more as it once was.
And then, there is you.
Shattered. The light once beaming in your eyes now gone. Buried with Johnny. Extinguished by Price's abandonment.
You're nothing but a shell of your former self; of the woman who could give all of them a run for their money with her banter, her discipline, and fierce loyalty.
And Simon has been observing the decline in real time while refusing to deal with his own grief, like watching a wild animal deteriorate in a zoo cage.
The base at night is a different kind of quiet.
The room built for you.
୨୧⋅┈∘┈⋅⋅┈∘┈⋅୨୧⋅┈∘┈⋅⋅┈∘┈⋅୨୧ ⋅┈∘┈⋅⋅┈∘┈⋅ ୨୧
Simon Riley had never been good with women. He knew how to clear rooms, how to disappear, how to make threats stop breathing. But.. flirting, charming.. even talking to someone soft and smiling who brought him his lunch with a shy “here you go, love.” was another battlefield entirely.
Then there was you.
New café on the corner, stuck between a florist and a bookstore. The first time he saw you, you’d laughed at something a customer said and your eyes lit up. Simon’s chest did something strange.. he started going every morning just to watch the way your hands moved, the way you tucked your hair behind your ear when you were thinking…
He learned your schedule. Learned your likes, learned your habits.. learned the name of the useless boy who sometimes would be waiting for you after your shift—the one who never held the door, who barely looked up from his phone.
Simon decided that boy didn’t deserve you. Didn’t treat you the way you deserved.
But Simon would.
He planned for three weeks. Watched the cameras he’d installed along your usual route home, waited until your boyfriend was out of town. The cloth over your mouth was quick, clinical—military training made it efficient. No screams, no mess, just the soft weight of you in his arms as he carried you out to the waiting vehicle.
You woke up in his basement, except.. It didn’t look like a basement.
The walls were painted a soft sage green you’d once mentioned was your favorite color. String lights hung in careful loops across the ceiling. A nice bed with the quilt he’d seen you admire in a shop window. Bookshelves he’d stocked with the authors and novels you’d sneak on your break to read. A small kitchenette with your favorite tea and snacks fully stocked. A locked door at the top of the stairs, of course, but the room itself smelled like vanilla and fresh paint.
Simon sat in the armchair across from the bed, mask off, watching you stir. His hands flexed on his knees—nervous, almost boyish.
“You’re safe..” he said quietly when he noticed the fear when your eyes first fluttered open. “No one’s gonna hurt you here. Not him. Not anyone.” His voice was rough, unused to softness. “I know this ain’t… normal. I ain’t good at asking. But I’ll give you everything he never could. The world you deserve. You just… you gotta stay a while. Let me show you.”
He stood slowly, making sure to not scare you as he set a tray on the bedside table—tea, the exact kind you liked, a blueberry muffin, and a small vase with a single daisy. His eyes were dark, hungry, but trying to be gentle.
“I’ll be back in the morning. Door’s locked, but there’s a bell if you need anything. I’m not a monster, love. I just… finally found something I want to keep.”
He turned the lights down, casting soft warmth across the room before pausing at the door.
“Rest. You’re home now.”
The lock clicked.
Upstairs, Simon leaned against the wall, heart hammering like it never had before.
Downstairs, the room waited—pretty, quiet, inescapable. And somewhere in the middle of it, you, still blinking awake, trying to understand how the man who used to order flat whites had decided you were his to save.
୨୧⋅┈∘┈⋅⋅┈∘┈⋅୨୧⋅┈∘┈⋅⋅┈∘┈⋅୨୧ ⋅┈∘┈⋅⋅┈∘┈⋅ ୨୧
No thoughts just people wincing in sympathy when they see pregnant!reader and konig together because he's...well....Giant.
Larger than life, the sheer size of him only more exaggerated by the fact you've always been on the short size. You hear almost everyday how difficult it will be, your supposedly giant baby. Honestly, you're worried too, though you suspect konig is the most stressed.
"I broke the record in my hospital, schatzi. Fifteen pounds. Schatzi, Do you hear me." Which. As one would predict, only served to make you more nervous.
Then the day comes and....they're...small.
Tiny, little babies. Twins, how the hell it was missed it beyond you. Your husband is well over six feet, weighs a solid three hundred and some pounds, and his two new babies can easily be held in one hand each.
As the shock of everything settles in, you both learn that your babies will absolutely scream and wail if konig attempts to hold them normally, only settling properly when curled up in his hands. He's practically crying all the time from how fragile they are compared to him.
Seeing the tiny pairs of socks he sews for them has you crying, too. He loves them so so much.
Your favorite memory is watching the little ones, now a bit older but still so small, snuggling together on konigs back while he naps, enough space they can't easily roll off.
You can't imagine it any other way. It just...feels right.
part one: here
Teaching Simon how to properly drive a vehicle was harder said than done. You’d think a man in his mid-thirties would know by now. Well, you’d be wrong.
Simon didn’t take lightly to people giving him advice. He’d consider himself perfect (which he is). So whose to tell him what to do?
Apparently, you.
He figured you were sick and tired of his driving abilities and truth be told, you were. You’ve been in too many accidents as him in the drivers seat, mission or not. 
The empty parking lot of a Tesco was a good choice, you’d think. It was late, the sun was dipping and casting a beautiful orange hue in the sky. The parking lot had only one other car in the corner of the lot.
Everyone warned you not to teach Simon how to drive. John said that your car may be totaled by the end of the night. Kyle said that he’ll prepare your funeral. And Johnny, hilarious-Johnny said that he’ll be watching the live cams from the nearest street cameras to see the drivers-ed go down.
“Unlock the door,” you call out to Simon from the passenger side. Your hand rested loosely on the door handle as you stared from Simon from above your coupe. He stared back at you and lifts the key up.
“It’s not unlocking,” Simon replies bluntly.
Your expression drops as you stared between Simon and your keys. “Lieutenant, I swear to—“
Big sigh! You got this!
Inhaling deeply, you shut your eyes for a moment before opening them again, “do you see a button on the key fob?” you ask evenly. Or as even as you can.
Simon glances over at the key fob and shrugs, “figured all vehicles have an automatic unlocking system,” he says and glances at your car window.
Yes— because your 2007 Toyota Solara would have a button. “Does it look like it has buttons?” you ask flatly. This was the only key the dealership had given to you; the spare that was tucked away in someone’s drawer until they sold it off. You’re not the kind to spend your money on flashy cars and will ride this coupe until it stops working in the middle of the road.
Simon unlocks the car with the key and opens the door, “no,” he sassily replies before shutting the door. You watched him through your fishbowl window, deciding not to lash out.
Yet.
Simon stares at you through the passenger window, giving you a raised brow behind his balaclava. “What’re you doing?” he asks from inside the car. He’s already gotten the car started up— meanwhile, you’re still outside, your right eye twitching.
“Doors still locked, lieutenant,” you say loud enough for him to hear. Simon doesn’t respond but gives you a little nod of awkwardness before clicking the lock buttons on the side. A soft click was heard before you swung the door open and stepped into the passenger side. “Okay— start driving,” you instructed the older man, putting on your seatbelt.
“Where to?”
“Wherever you’d like as long as it’s in the parking lot.”
“… Okay, do I turn or?”
You threw your hands up a bit and turn to look at him, “I don’t know— just drive,” you responded with a huff.
Simon huffs back in rebuttal before shifting the car in ‘drive’. Not even a second later, the car jumps from zero to fifteen. Your hand reaches up for the handle as he slams on the brake just before he hits the only vehicle in the parking lot.
Your vehicles engine softly hummed as the two of you stared at the red Audi R8 (which definitely cost more than your salary, let’s be honest). Your front bumper was about an inch away from the rear end of the sports car and your heart felt like it had fallen to your ass just by witnessing it.
“Lieutenant…” you manage to whisper out, still staring out of the windshield.
Simon stays silent for a second. A second too long to tell you that he knew he was in trouble. “… Yes?”
“Get out.”
Without another word, the male nods and opens the car. He swung one of his legs out, about to step out until the seatbelt (still protecting him and attached), locked him in. “Eueugh,” Simon choked out, the seatbelt colliding with his neck.
All you could do was sit there in silence and let out a shaky breath.
Sometimes the house became almost painfully quiet when Simon was away. Not the good kind of quiet, the kind that settled softly over the room and let you breathe for a while. This was different. A strange, persistent silence that felt like something was missing from the walls themselves, like the whole place had forgotten how to sound like home.
You did your best to fill it.
Books, music, little cleaning spurts that turned into reorganizing entire shelves, and, most often lately, cooking. Cooking helped. It gave your hands something to do and your mind something to focus on. It was soothing, for the most part, until you made something you knew Simon would have loved, and there was no one there to tease, taste, or steal the first bite.
Still, tonight’s recipe had gone well. The kitchen smelled warm and rich, all garlic and herbs and something sweet lingering underneath. You stood there with a plate in one hand, ready to finally serve, when you heard it.
A shuffle. Then a low groan from the front door.
Your whole body went rigid.
Simon was not supposed to be back for another week. You were alone. No guests, no deliveries, no reason for anyone to be at the door at all.
Someone was breaking in. Shit.
You went cold all at once, every lecture Simon had ever given you on self defense flashing through your mind, but panic left no room for careful thinking. You grabbed the plate tighter, your knuckles whitening around it, and moved before your brain could catch up.
The lock rattled, the door bursting open and you swung.
The plate shattered spectacularly against the head of the very tall intruder.
For one breathtaking second, you stood frozen, half expecting a stranger, a threat, anything else.
Instead, a familiar grumble filled the doorway, "Fucking hell."
D'aww. 🥺 The best welcome home there is. Nothing will ever top it (except, maybe, a pan 👀).
Keepsake previous - masterlist Ghoap/female reader - omegaverse au
The voices wake you.
masterlist - next
It happens at work.
You get a whiff.
At first, you’re not sure what exactly it is you’re smelling. Leather and tobacco soaked in sea spray, mixed with cardamom and honeyed black tea.
What is that?
You sniff the air. It’s barbaric, embarrassing, but you can’t fight the instinct that has your nose lifting, nor can you stop your feet from automatically moving, following the trail.
Your skin prickles as it grows stronger, and there’s a pinch in your stomach, a light twinge that yanks you forward, propels you out of the kitchen and into the dining room, hot on the heels of whoever it is that smells like this.
An unbidden, fully uninhibited omega whine crawls up the back of your throat as the scent rises to it’s full strength and leads you down a row of red pleather booths, to where two alphas sit across from one another.
Keepsake previous - masterlist Ghoap/female reader - omegaverse au
Your phone is missing.
dating the 141 means break-ins hardly phase you.
i imagine the live camera feed goes off one night while youre lying in bed. new sheets still hugging you warm after the dryer. the boys are off doing their personal night routines, heavy guard dogs lay at your feet.
with the chime of your phone, a notification alerts you of outside movement. you consider it to be a waving branch or passing car, yet check it nonetheless. something about inner intuition.
youre glad you did.
watching silently as someones shadow skirts along the darker parts of around your house. passing the kitchen windows with a ducked head, then round the back.
"fuck," you bite your lip. sighing quietly as you toss your phone. "johnathan!" four heads from the bathroom peek around the doorframe slow, eyes open with the use of a full name. johnny fights a grin, ready to watch his captain get chewed out by their lady.
"..ye' love?"
"theres some weird guy wandering 'round the house outside," you inform dryly. plucking your phone back up and leaving it there. you reach for your wine glass on the bedside table, sipping as their hearts fall to their ass.
sure, anxiety stirs low in your gut. nipping at your reason and concious. but you also are keen of what your boys have lived through, the dirtest negotiations and most horrific actions.
alway do they come back home into your arms.
you could blame it on pure lack of sleep, but its nicer to blame it on the assumption youre probably the safest person in town. perhaps city if you dare.
so you continue with scrolling through ao3.
paying a half mind as military tense rounds over their bodies. simon whistles for the dogs and grabs his pistol. grunting and rolling his bare shoulders in atonished anger at somones sheer audacity. i mean for fuck sakes the mans tired. 
johnnys sneaking grin falls, replaced by a flat face as hes quick to grab a flashlight and gun. moving out the door on simons heels. big dogs herding around them.
"stay 'ere yeah love? dont open the fuckin' door," johns voice is a low growl. grabbing a hunters knife ( anniversary gift from you, his names carved in the wood ) and moving to the window. room lights flipped off when johnny left. scanning the open grass with an annoyed brow twitch. "kyle, wi' me."
kyle nods, glancing back three times to make sure youre content. careful to lock the bedroom door and leave a weapon with you, which he drills in not to touch less you hear the burglar. with a final glance, hes gone with the rest of them.
your ears perk for movement outside. glass shatters and a door kicks open. youre pretty sure you hear the guy shriek — most definitely simons doing, weird fucker was waiting in the dark — a brisk struggle before the house falls silent, words they dont want you hearing are exchanged then hes thrown out onto the grass.
hes quick to jump up and scurry off, wet pants uncomfortable and now stinking.
you sigh with annoyance, replacing windows was the biggest bitch. but whatever, sukuna is realizing his love for Y/N.
⋆·˚ ༘ * Simon kidnapping reader- but being nice about it. ⋆·˚ ༘ *
Masterlist
The engine hums, and that is the first thing you hear. Next, the air conditioning—soft and steady, almost comforting. It’s the kind of sound that could lull someone to sleep in a different life. You blink against a dim light glowing near your feet. The air carries a faint scent of citrus and warm fabric. Your hands- you realise faintly- are tied behind your back. Zip ties, the harsh plastic loose enough to not dig into your skin, tight enough that there's no way you're escaping them. Especially not when your body feels like it's wading through fog and your mind feels wrapped in wool.
I love the creepy undertone so much
Okay, okay. Hear me out...
Simon gets dosed with a truth serum, and Johnny is absolutely taking the piss.
Pairing: Simon×Fem!Y/N | Mild Sexual Content | Truth Serum
────────· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·────────
────────· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·────────
"Would you fuck y/n?" Soap asked Ghost, grinning ferally.
Ghost's head snapped toward him with a speed that would have been intimidating if his throat wasn't darkening to a vibrant maroon at the hem of his balaclava. For a single, long moment, the room held its breath—Gaz frozen with his coffee halfway to his lips, Price watching from the doorway with the resignation of a man who had seen too much warfare to be surprised by interpersonal chaos.
Then, the serum kicked in.
"Yes," Ghost said, and the word came out so fast and so forcefully that it actually made Soap jump.
"Absolutely. Without hesitation. In a—" He stopped. Swallowed. The serum pushed. "—in a heartbeat. In less than a heartbeat. In a negative amount of time. I would go back in time an' do it yesterday if that was an option. S'not an option—time travel doesn't exist—but if it did, I'd—"
"Christ alive," Soap breathed, almost awed.
"—I'd do it so fast," Ghost continued helplessly, the words pouring out of him like water through a breached dam. "I'd do it so—y'don't even understand, Johnny. Y'don't understan' what y've just asked me. Y've opened a door that can't be closed now. M'gonna be thinkin' about that question for weeks. Months. Forever. M'gonna be on my deathbed thinkin' about that question because yes. Yes, I bloody would. Have y'seen her?"
"We've all seen her, Lt.," Gaz wheezed, practically crying with laughter now. "She's standin' right there."
"Right there," Ghost agreed, gesturing at y/n with his cuffed hands as if Soap had just made an excellent point. "Right there. Bein' pretty. Bein' the prettiest person I've ever—I already said that, didn't I? I already said that twice. S'still true. S'more true now. S'been—" He glanced at the clock on the wall. "—four minutes. S'been four minutes an' s'even more true than it was when I first said it. How is that possible? How is she gettin' prettier?"
"She's nae gettin' prettier," Soap wheezed. "She's jus' standin' there."
"Exactly. Exactly. She's just standin' there, an' she's gettin' prettier. That's the problem, Johnny. That's the whole bloody problem."
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a/n: i am so obsessed. the mental image of big, strong, silent Ghost suddenly word-vomiting an obsession is both hysterical and adorable to me.
neighbor!simon riley who can't say no to you asking him for help (and still does things without you having to). pt.1
ever since asking simon for help on your car, it's like a floodgate has opened up. first you're asking him for help on your car, and the next thing you know, he's in your house every few days with a new repair you've roped him into. he doesn't talk much. actually, you haven't been able to get another word out of him since he was on his back, under your car.
you've tried, you really have, but the bastard won't give in. you think he's just closed off—in reality, simon's heart is beating a mile a minute, and his mind is repeating over and over again not to make himself a fool in front of his pretty neighbor.
so you figured that asked him to help around your house would do the trick, luring him into your space in order to open him up. it's not like you'd get around to these tasks yourself. they just weren't your area of expertise.
and for a decently new house, you sure had a lot to be repaired.
first, it was those squeaky hinges on some of your doors. now, in the beginning, you were still hesitant to wander over to his front door to get his help, but after his eagerness the first time, it gave you the confidence to return. simon was in your house faster than you were, already taking a guess as to which door it was—since he knew his way around from bringing in groceries and such. armed with a lubricant and a few other tools, he got to work. within a few minutes, they were good as new. you couldn't thank the man before he was out the door.
it was off-putting, but you were still determined. it was unlucky that the first thing you asked him to do took only a few minutes of his time, and even less for cleanup.
with every day that passed, you were grasping at straws. how could you get this man over here? your house was in perfect condition, and you barely saw the recluse of a man, as he remained in his house most of the time. save for the times he takes in your groceries or takes your bins out, you don't see him.
until you notice something odd.
coming home from work—this time, your car light remains off—you get out of your car and notice a bit of chopped grass that's been left behind. with furrowed brows, you took a moment to look at your lawn.
what are the chances that, after living here for a few months, the grass doesn't decide to grow?
yeah, none. the bastard has been doing it for you, and you never noticed. he never mentioned or made a big deal out of it, and somehow, it got missed on your motion activated doorbell cameras that has a perfect view of the lawn. even the hedges are trimmed.
so what do you do? take the opportunity to stop over to his doorstep, rapping your fist on his door until he opens. eyebrows raised, ready to take on the next task at your house, he steps out and shuts the door behind him. with a nod, he gestures you to lead the way.
except you don't have a repair for him. "have you been mowing my lawn?" the words spill from your lips before you have a chance to reign yourself in. the absurdity of the situation is making you loose-lipped.
his eyes widen, and you swear you see a faint blush on the pale skin behind his balaclava. he just nods, gaze softening as he stares down at you.
"thank you." you sputter out, in shock at his brazen admission. he just nods again, and you're at a loss for words. how do you keep his attention, keep his eyes on you? "well, I'm gonna need your help planting flowers."
planting flowers? that's all you could come up with? your face flushes with embarrassment, bracing yourself for his reaction. the man could easily say no because mowing the lawn and changing your lightbulb and fixing your squeaky door hinges is considered masculine. you could've insulted his masculinity by suggesting he plants flowers.
but he just stares at you some more. "let m'know when," and he shuts the door in your face.
but you turn around with the goofiest smile on your face and pump your fist with a soft "yes" before skipping back down the path and road towards your house just next door. little do you know, simon's face wears a smile just like yours as he watches the dorky display.
he can't wait to help you again.
INTERN GOSSIP
your ex uses his favorite intern to get back in your good graces
warnings; language. mild suggestiveness(just eluding to the activity) texts to fumikage in keigo’s pov. keigo being a down bad menace 💔
𝜗ৎ Sucking simon's soul through his sweet cock :p
cw. mature content.
Simon never thought he'd love someone's mouth on his cock, ever. Just the thought of being so intimate with someone has him shuddering, sure he doesn't hate it. His past hookups were decent enough, he never went down on them because that wasn't really his thing and he never forced them to do the same either but when a few of them insisted, he gave in. But ofcourse it didn't really get him going.
So when you came along and sink down on your knees for the first time, blinking up at him with those pretty eyes, simon can't help but caress your hair. You unbuckled his cargo, pulling down the zipper as you stared at the prominent bulge straining against his boxers. You eagerly pulled them down, just enough to reveal his massive throbbing cock, "woah.. it's big" you whispered in awe. Your hands gently took the bulge in your palm, feeling it twitch to life in your hold.
He bit back a groan as you rubbed your small thumb on his swollen tip, the bead of precum smearing on your fingers as you let out a giggle and pulled away, bringing the finger to your mouth as you licked it clean, making simon grunt, "Fuck, don' do that luv." But you couldn't help but smirk as you looked up at him and while maintaining eye contact, you pushed his cock down your throat in one go.
Simon couldn't stop the groan that slipped as his large hand gripped your hair tightly, "Fuckin' hell", you choked around him, your spit dribbling past your mouth as you tried to hollow your cheeks but just the sheer girth of it has the inside of your cheeks stretched wide as you gagged. You could barely breath as he quite literally had blocked your windpipe, your hands fisted into simon's jeans as tears burned in your eyes. You pulled back before trying to take more of him but you just couldn't! He was just too big!!
You fully pulled back now, sputtering as you tried to catch your breath but simon groaned in frustration, "Bloody hell!" His hips bucked, chasing your warm mouth, "can't sii, you're so biiig!" You coughed as his tip poked your cheek but simon's hazel eyes looked down at you, wide with new found obsession, "ya can take it." He muttered before gripping your hair and thrusting his cock in.
He let out a grunt, pushing your head deeper onto his cock, not caring if you gagged or cried. Would it be sadistic if he happened to like the sounds you made as you struggled to take his cock down your throat, it did hurt him seeing your poor jaw slacked open as you tried your best to take him but he's make sure to kiss your face better, his poor dovie. Your cheeks sucked on his girthy length while your hands travelled to his heavy balls, squeezing them as he bucked his hips in sudden excessive pleasure.
"Jesus!" Simon's hand gripped your hair as his stomach scrunched and he came right down your throat, making you gag as you pulled back. His cum flowing down the side of your mouth as you coughed, sniffling as tears and snot ran down your face. It was such a mess and honestly as simon stared down at you, there was just hearts missing in his eyes, this had just become his new favourite view. "Ya were amazin', luv."
@masterlist
reader who is, unfortunately, a “too honest for their own good” kind of drunk who gets dragged to the bar with tf141.
“kyyyle,” you slur, leaning over the table to which Gaz cracks a smile. “so pretty…anyone ever tell you you’re pretty? like ‘men should be buying you dinner’ pretty.”
soap snorts, an amused smile on his lips. “Ya don’ even get a handsome, just fuckin’ pretty.”
“oi, piss off, soap,” replies gaz with no real heat behind it. “and you,” he starts, bringing his attention backed to your slumped form, “are a shitty drinker.”
you giggle, barely lifting up your head from the table.
price shakes his head, taking a large swing from the pint. “kids these days.”
the laughter dies down, everyone enjoying the relaxing ambiance that’s been so hard to enjoy with missions on end these days. that is until-
“ugh- I’m so horny.”
the table stills, all eyes landing on your slumped form before soap bursts into uncontrollable laughter. his fist slams the table as gaz tries to still the man who’s slightly tipsy and leaning back in his chair.
“bloody hell,” ghost mumbles, crossing his arms. “you’re one them, huh? those honest-to-god-drunks.”
“you shouldn’t be saying those things out loud,” advises price, knowing full well that it’s going to go unheard seeing as you’re shit-faced drunk right now.
you groan, forehead connected with the table again. “you don’t get it. you’re old- probably have the sex drive of a tumble weed.”
gaz and soap have a poor attempt at stifling a laugh and even ghost cracks a small and an unseen smirk at your comment. price doesn’t bother with a retort, knowing you’ll have your regrets when they tell you about this conversation in the morning.
soap puts an encouraging pat on your back. “aye, cmon lass, if ya wanted to get laid, all ye gotta do is ask.” it’s clearly a joke but your head perks up anyways.
“don’t tempt me, cause I’ve thought about it.”
“you don’t say…” his eyes light up with interest.
ghost interrupts with a warning tone. “don’t encourage her, Johnny.”
“too late, LT.” soap stalks around your chair, sliding his arms ‘round back. he leans in close till you pick up the scent of beer on his lips. “tell me, what d’ya think of?”
you match his lean with one of your own, eyes blown wide and curious. “are you rough in bed? tell me you’re rough in bed.”
soap smirks, flashing a charming wink. “aye, lass. why? want my handprint on your ass?” ghost flashes him a stern look but soap merely shrugs unapologetically.
you groan at his answer, “god, I hope I remember that in the morning.”
“we get it. we get it. you’re horny for soap. let’s stop before I hurl.” gaz puts his hand on your shoulders, urging you to drink more water.
“dont be jealous, gaz. you’re in there too.”
and suddenly, the angel on his shoulder disappears. “oh yeah?”
“god, you have no idea how hard it is to work with hot men all day long. takes everything in me to not just give up on the mats and let you just pin me down.”
by now, soap has his phone out, recording this for evidence when you’re inevitably going to try to walk back on your words in the morning.
“would love to be bent over a desk, don’t even care who’s behind me. or who’s the biggest? LT? probably not you then- at least not first.”
you ramble on and on… about how you could get off to the gruff sound of your captains voice alone, or how sometimes you’d be soaking wet through your panties if they praised you enough.
and it’s not until you go into an explicit and ultra-specific scenario that involves all four men, some rope, vibrators, and a blindfold, going to ultra-specific detail about soap in your pussy, price in your mouth, and how maybe you’d even let someone in your ass, does someone do the sensible thing of slapping a hand around your mouth.
“I’m gonna take my hand off’ya, and you’re gon’ be quiet, yeah?”
your eyes glance up to a stone cold stare behind a mask, meeting his gaze before you nod. “good girl.”
his hand slowly withdraws and you’re silent. it stays that was for a moment, everyone unsure how to break the tension left in the air after your revelation…that is until-
“aye, what’s that LT?”
and that, would be the stiffy that’s hardly concealed behind his jeans- perhaps he needs to buy baggier clothes from now on.
you stare at it. then you stare at him. “god, I knew you were big.”