cherry valley forever
Keni
Show & Tell
Monterey Bay Aquarium
occasionally subtle
Acquired Stardust
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH
Andulka
Peter Solarz
No title available
Stranger Things
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
Claire Keane
TVSTRANGERTHINGS
AnasAbdin
taylor price
trying on a metaphor
Janaina Medeiros
shark vs the universe
hello vonnie
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Malaysia
seen from Russia
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Türkiye
seen from United States
seen from Brunei
seen from United States
seen from India
seen from Czechia
seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from T1
seen from United States
seen from Dominican Republic
@starandcloud
Introduction
Sup, I'm a Genderfluid unmedicated ADHD whirlwind of bull
The 'tism is strong here
Requests: OPEN
Commissions: OPEN
LIKE, COMMENT, AND REBLOG SPAM IS WELCOME AND ENCOURAGED HERE!!
Masterlist
Current Hyperfixations, in order of interest:
The Amazing Digital Circus: Jax: AKA the mentally unstable rabbit.
Interesting facts:
Writer/Artist
Autistic
Hyperfixations change A LOT
18
I still can't get over it,
Some of the famous people whose gravestones I could visit for free no matter how many times: Antoni Gaudi, Beethoven, Haydn, Mozart (his cemetery, actual gravestone is unknown), Wyspiański (<- my favourite artist)
Some of the famous people whose gravestone I can only visit paying a pretty expensive fee per visit: Karl Marx 💀
The Odyssey but retold as a low-stakes modern adventure of one guy out with his girlfriend leaving the bar with his buddies to do just one (1) simple thing real quick, it'll take like 15 minutes tops, he'll be right back, but then some bullshit happens and the trip keeps getting more complicated as more bullshit keeps happening while he just tries to get back to the bar because he promised his girlfriend that he'd get back and he knows that she's still there because she told him she'd wait there.
And by the time he finally gets back it's almost 3 am and the bar is about to close while she's sitting there stone cold sober, surrounded by 5 drunk guys unsuccessfully trying to convince her to give up on waiting for him and go home with one of them instead. And the guy shows up to proceed to beat the shit out of them before explaining himself to her like hey sorry bullshit kept happening, my phone fell into a storm drain and my wallet got stolen when I was trying to find someone who'd borrow me a phone so I could call and
His girlfriend had been fending off the 5 drunk guys for most of the evening by explaining that even if she was going to ditch her boyfriend, she can't possibly leave without finishing her beer, which she is keeping perpetually full via careful sleight of hand where she's just pouring it back and forth into and out of the pitcher.
However the drunk guys are also drinking, and eventually she can't afford to buy another pitcher for the table so she can't keep up the ever-full beer glass trick. At this point she has to resort to setting up the pool trick shot that she's never seen anyone but her boyfriend pull off, and says she'll leave with whoever manages the shot first.
That buys her another hour or so and then, finally, her boyfriend makes it back. He looks like shit, hair down and just a mess, he's wearing an entirely different jacket that he got from an alley, and barely recognizable—especially to 5 guys who've been drunk for hours now. He lurks for a minute, finds out what's going on, and proceeds to pull off the trick shot first try. Throws the jacket off, fixes his hair with a hair tie his girlfriend lends him, finally looks like himself again, and THEN beats the shit out of them with the pool cue.
yuh i was there, that's how it happened
summer rain. redrew parts of an old drawing
BONUS:
he did that on purpose. bonus bonus:
simon is kinda a weird boyfriend.
he's a typical military male. mean, blunt, and cold. he's not much for pda with his love, it's not that he's ashamed of you or anything, but at most he holds your hand if you ask him. he's ghost—he has a reputation to uphold!
so no, you can't take photos of him in your girly bed that has a concerning amount of plushies and the softest, pinkest blankets he's ever had the pleasure of sleeping with, and you can't call him baby or a childish petname that isn't si or my love because he's a grown man pushing into his mid thirties almost forties and he doesn't want his teammates to think he's a sissy.
he wouldn't hear the end of it if his teammates knew that he sleeps best with his head on your chest and your arms wrapped around him like mother and son, protecting him from the cold, dark world. society expects him to be dominating and masculine. in the barracks at night, his teammates often ask him for deets on how he fucks his woman back home, but truth be told when they ask, his mind only thinks about how hard he cums inside of you when he makes love to you deep and slow, suckling on your breasts with your hands dragging deliciously up and down his back, soothing him until he's nothing but a trembling and whimpering mess—so instead he tells them to go fuck themselves.
in public, you'll whine and complain when he declines your offer to hold him, so he lets you steal a kiss or two as compensation. however, simon has a tiny dilemma when it comes to you. he may act cold and unaffected, but deep in his heart he's an absolute sucker for your attention and praise. once he got ahold of you, it's like he became addicted to this thing that people like you call love—your love.
so when you pull away, balance flat on your feet, simon stares down at you with round gleaming eyes that tell you everything that he can't say. please, more.
and you deliver, because your simon gives you all you want and he deserves to receive the same treatment. you get back on your tippy toes and press your soft lips against his, to which he instantly responds with pressing his against yours. he knows he said only a kiss, but his hands seem to have a mind of their own as one of them cup the back of your head, not giving you the chance to step away.
the kiss gets more wild than he anticipated. in the back of his mind, as he flicks his tongue against your bottom lip, he wonders where his sense of control went, but his eyes are already glazing over and soon the kiss turns into a sloppy thing, saliva threatening to spill from the corner of his mouth as you absolutely ravage your boyfriend.
there's many people around the two of you, giving disapproving faces as you... ruin him. he feels destroyed. weak. this is not how it's supposed to be. he's the one meant to press you into the wall, groping you, but no, you're the one who is cupping the bulge in his pants without a care in the world, parting from him just to whisper "you like that, baby?" before you're back crashing your lips against his, to which he nastily groans at.
he's a blushing mess, eyes glossy and chest heaving as he pants into the kiss. he lets you nip at his lips and draw blood, lets you drink him up until you pull away suddenly with a lewd pop!, licking his saliva off your lips as you look at him with a mischievous smirk, satisfied at the sight of your boyfriend, usually composed and as stoic as stone, now an absolute mess; pink in the cheeks and sucking on his own bottom lip from shyness, his hands fumbling with the hem of your shirt.
there's a familar look in his eyes again.
more.
reader who inhales some experimental aphrodisiac while on the latest mission.
the transport home is awkward to say the least. you’re whimper, humping your seat lamely while you’ve practically soaked through your panties, cargos, and down onto the seat itself.
“eyes forward, men.” says price from the drivers seat. his calm demeanor gives nothing away if it weren’t for his sweating palms that have a death grip on the drivers wheel.
you whine- a fucking delicious and needy whine. “please…please captain…please can someone help me? please? pleasepleasepleaseplease?”
“oh lord,” mutters soap from beside you. his eyes are oddly focused on the pattern of the roof. “lord please give me the strength right now.” his fingers twitch with ache and his leg is anxiously bouncing up and down. he continues to mumble prayers- which is odd since soap isn’t known to be a religious man.
“please- please it’s so hot. need to take these off. please,” you beg, hands fumbling with the button and zipper of your cargos.
“stop it, kid. Kyle, soap, hold ‘er down.”
gaz and soap look at each other, face full of emotion- uncomfortableness, concern, arousal?
“S-sir…don’t think it’s a good idea for me to touch the lass right now.” Soap admits, taking a slow and deep breath as his eyes unwillingly stare you up and down.
Gaz steps up. Not because he’s eager to touch you, not because he needs an excuse to get his hands on you- but because he genuinely believes that if anyone can have the restraint, it would be him. “I’ve got it, sir.”
he bunches your hands together by the wrist, bringing it away from your pants that are left unzipped but still fully on.
you let out a broken sob that just breaks his heart but stiffens his dick. “Nonononono, just a little touch please? please? Hurts s’bad. Need to…just once, please?”
gaz gulps, and for a second his grip loosens on your wrist. “Garrick!”
gaz jerks, meeting the stare of his lieutenant who’s sweating at the base of his mask. “we’re almost there. keep it together.”
you squirm, crossing and uncrossing your legs in any attempt for a piece of friction that is just never enough.
the rest of the ride is painfully silent, each man thinking the same thing but none of them willing it out loud. It feels like ages when the transport is finally parked at the base and three heads turn to their captain for his decision.
“Her quarters, now.”
Tf141 who plays strip poker but they all gang up on you until you’re fully naked and the worst anyone else has gotten is a lost sock or shoe.
“No fair!”
“Ain’t our fault youre shit at poker. Now you know the rules.”
Gaz takes you first, biting his lip to hold back the sly grin he has as he sinks you down on his cock. “So pretty perched on a cock.”
His hands gently guide you back and forth, musing nothing but praises. “I’m almost there, baby. I know you want it. Can you feel you wanting it.”
Eventually he holds you still, rutting up into you while his thumb draws soothing circles on your hip. The others watch intensely before he slams you down, keeping your hips pressed firmly against him as he pours his release inside.
Gaz combs your hair out of your face, placing a delicate kiss on your forehead before he peels you off. But not before he gives your cunt a gentle grope with the palm of his hand. “Thanks love.”
He passes you off to soap who’s been bouncing in his seat since you were in your undergarments. He’s quick to get you bent over the table before sinking his dick in with a deep groan.
He’s meaner than Gaz, insisting that you squirt for him before he lets you go despite you cumming multiple times. “I can’t, Johnny! Icanticanticant,” you sob, pussy puffy and swollen.
Soaps arm slinks down between your legs before his fingers repeatedly swipe across your poor clit. He has no aim, but it gets the job done and your vision nearly goes black as you’re leaking onto the edge of the table.
Soap grins victoriously. “So ye can do it. Fuckin’ liar you are.”
Then there’s ghost. He’s not trying to be an ass about it. It’s just that he’s so damn big that it’s bound to hurt no matter how many times Gaz and Soap have cum inside you.
He lifts you up from the underside of your knees, spreading you wide open before nudging inch by inch inside. “Nice view, LT.”
“Wish it were you, aye Johnny?”
Soap smirks. “Who? You or her?”
The conversation ends there, ghost too enthralled by the way his dick pumps out cum with every thrust. The position makes it perfect to see the tip of his dick bulging as he brings you down to the hilt.
“Fuck,” you pant, barely audible over those heavenly wails you let out.
“I know, doll. That’s what I’m doin’.” You don’t even have it in you to tell him to piss off and that’s exactly how he likes you.
Last is price, who lays you gently down on the table with a hand resting on each thigh. There’s no resistance as he slips his dick inside your warm and sloppy hole.
Immediately you shudder from oversensitivity, hands pawing at his abdomen to push him back but there’s no strength behind it.
He’s gentle, but the experience is there when he’s grinding up his dick to all the right places.
Two of his fingers scoop up the leaking cum (probably a mix of all three) before drawing delicate figure 8’s across your abused clit.
You squeak, legs tensing as sparks fill your vision. “There she is, nice and fuckin’ tight.”
And once he knows he has you teetering on that edge, he’s pounding into you like there’s no tomorrow.
The table shakes under the intensity and it proves to be worth it when you’re mumbling gibberish in hysterics.
Price finally pulls out, patting your pussy twice as a reward. “Good girl.” And you don’t know if he’s talking to you or your cunt.
You feel a hand cup your cheek but your vision is blurry and every voice sounds as if you’re underwater. “Ya look like you’re seeing stars, lassie.”
“I’m never playing poker again.”
Your comment earns a few chuckles from the group. “Oh don’t be like that. You almost almost had us!”
“Kyle’s right. You’re improving fast. You’re bound to win the next one, soldier.”
It’s a lie. Price knows it. The group knows it. You know it. But it doesn’t stop you from playing the next week.
Ghost loves when you send him photos through out your day while he’s at work.
A meeting is about to start when his phone buzzes in his pocket. It’s around 12pm. So it must be a picture of what you’re eating for lunch.
maybe a sandwich with crisps? or maybe an açaí bowl from that new place you were talking about this morning.
He opened the notification.
Ghost slammed his phone face down on the table. Price and Soap looked at eachother confused, as did others in the room. The silence was awkward.
Maybe you had sent him in angry text ??
I don't even know what to title this bro, but basically: would they prefer their partner shaved or nah?
I had this in my drafts for a few days and then I saw @luxcuriousao3 make a post that was near EXACTLY the same as this one 😭🙏. Down to the details, too, which is crazy. I'm going to post this anyway, but please don't think I'm copying them (I'm not). We both happen to know ball when it comes to fictional men and their fictional preferences lmao. We're on the same wavelength
.
What about their own grooming habits?
John loves a good bush. It's not even inherently sexual either, he just likes the intimacy of running his fingers through your curls. He enjoys the sensation and you both find it soothing after sex (whoever said Price is autistic, I see you). He's a bush man at heart and I stand by that, but if you prefer to shave? He's doing it for you. He just likes taking care of you and he doesn't want you getting nicked, or burnt if you wax. He's got plenty of experience with shaving his facial hair, so you can trust you're in steady hands.
Kyle would go crazy for a landing strip. He considers it the best of both worlds because he loves feeling skin on bare skin, but he also loves the contrast that the small patch of hair gives. He swears it makes the rest of you feel even smoother. Gaz would enjoy helping you maintain it, finding it cute to switch up the shape sometimes with a diamond or a heart. He'd be obsessed with rubbing his thumb along the strip, tracing the edges of the shape and caressing you.
Johnny will actually cry if you go bald. Genuinely. Even if you only trim or shape it a little; he's in tears. It's ridiculous how fast he switches up, though, because it turns out that he loves seeing how your bare skin glistens when you get aroused with nothing in the way. Still, when you grow it back he'll be all up in there, murmuring about how much he missed your bush like it had sentience of its own.
Simon is the most impartial. I think all of them are to some degree, but Ghost is the most vocal about how your comfort comes first. He wants you to keep yourself however you prefer. Trimmed is good, shaved is fine, completely natural is perfect. Having said that, his favourite is when he gets to feel just how soft your skin is after you're freshly shaved. He thinks it's precious to feel something so delicate because a lot of his skin is rough, callused, and scarred. Like John, Simon enjoys getting lost in the tactile of casual intimacy, simply stroking the crease of your inner thigh like a worry stone.
Masterlist
Omg pjackk is gone again
God damn…
I think about Naive!Reader and Fresh Out of Prison!Simon on the subway.
cw: 18+ mdni, nsfw.
And how he’d make naive!reader sit in his lap when he notices and older woman standing in subway isle.
“Thank you, both of you.” The older woman giggles as she takes the empty seat.
“‘S no problem ma’am.” Simon nods, wrapping his arms around your waist and resting his chin on your shoulder. “She’s so cute isnt she love?”
You can’t even focus, his hardened erection pressing into your ass, in those jeans that Simon loves so much. Couldnt stop staring at the way your thighs spread as you sat down, every curve on you, that charm you have in your brown eyes. You wiggle in his lap but he only presses you down harder, he tsks in your ear, “Don’t move baby, or everyone ‘ere will see just what you do t’me.”
You feel him grow with every shake of the train against you, only smirking as he sees the way you can’t look anyone near you in the eye, heat rising under your skin with that slightly tense look on your face. You try your best to give a smile and wave to the old woman but Simons hands roll down your skin, down your your thighs that makes chills run down your spine, “Bloody hell, can’t wait t’ get off of ‘ere, fuck you right against the wall in the alley across the street from our stop, you’d like that wouldn’t you?”
Your lips purse out, breath hitching, “Simon!”
“ ‘F Course you would doll,” he draws out, calloused hands going to your hips, giving them a nice squeeze, humping up into you, “Or should I have you keep keep my cock warm right here, sliding it in your hole so eeeeveryone can see that pretty face you only make with me-“
You can’t help the little mewl you let out, his covered manhood pressing against your cunt, “Simon-“
“—I know, I know swee’art,” he coos, kissing your cheek, “Won’t do tha’ to ya.”
The subway rattles again and you bite the inside of your lips, nervous eyes flickering down into the mahogany brown eyes staring back at you. Glint shimmering in them.
“Not here, anyway.”
Simon lets his hand caress the apple of your cheeks from behind, squeeze them together that makes him chuckle, “Would you let me take you to the bathroom though? Hm love?”
You play with your fingers, checking the time on your phone, before muttering so quietly, “For j-just a little bit, I don’t wanna miss my show tonight.”
And the older man underneath you groans happily, eyes crinkling, rubbing his hand up and down your back, you’ve made the man go red in the face, “M just jokin baby, god, you’re so fuckin loveable.”
a/n: I hope you’re hungry— for nothing.
part one
alright, we all know the trend when the woman goes behind the camera while recording her man's reaction to her flashing her breasts?
Well, just imagine doing that with JOHN PRICE. He'll be out there in the garden (in the process of making one, actually, on his backyard, because you always wanted one, and he moved you in with him for a reason), with a shovel in hand, looking at what he had already digged out for your plants to grow nice and pretty when he sees something flashing from the sliding glass doors. And when he snaps his head and really looks, there's you. In just your panties, and lifting your t-shirt to show him you titties. The reason? Well, you were bored. And now you had your boyfriend all grumpy and possessive of just thinking that the neighbors could have seen you.
And when you do the same for KYLE "GAZ" GARRICK, you don't really do that for him in the first place. You daughter, who was entirely breastfed for a whole nine months, was acting cranky and sleepy, wining and sobbing, clearly tired and ready for sleep. You saw some trends of a breastfed babies reacting to titties, and decided to participated (without documenting it). Kyle licking his lips, and, scooping the immediately calmed down baby girl, murmured "Make sure to have 'em on display after I tuck the lil' one in."
You thought nothing could stant JOHNNY "SOAP" MACTAVISH anymore. You two tried a lot of stuff in bed, and, being together for years, you genuinely had no idea he would react the way he did. But when oversleeping and being in a hurry, you burst into the bathroom to hop into the shower real quick. Johnny was just brushing his hair out of his face, already in cargo pants and tight t-shirt, when you dropped your nightgown and stepped out the piece of silk, as if it was a routine at this point. "Bonnie, really?" He sighed heavily, and, quickly undressing, joined you in the shower. "Since ta girls are invitin'". They were not. But in was worth being a bit late to work that day.
SIMON "GHOST" RILEY doesn't react immediately. He just sits on the couch, beer in one hand, and staring at your titties as you flashed them out, jumping out of the corner. For a second you begin to feel a slight embarrassment creeping through your spine. But then he sets the beer bottle on the floor, gets up, and with two long steps, lifts you up and throws you over his shoulder. You're buffled, trying to straighten up, when he brings you to your bedroom. He wasn't indifferent. He was just thinking about the things he would do to those things of yours.
tags: @prettybpony @devoted-buttons @mvstercvrd @lilpothoscuttings @other-fandoms-reblogs @eastern-side-of-the-heart @drugs-and-daddyissues @itsnayumenko-blog @rios-st4rs @leahsfantasy @1-800-bobcut @cocolocorococo
Duke Thomas week 2026: day 3
This one is for glowing blood since.. apparently I can’t pass up a chance to write gore?
Tw gore, again. Mildly though, just blood
__
Seeing practically gold tar leak from the gash in Duke’s Arm was weird. It was sticky and smelt like blood, it felt like blood, but it didn’t look like it. So, weird.
Tracing his fingers over the laceration on his upper bicep, he took in how it glowed, the metallic light shining onto his skin.
“Do ya think it’d still taste like blood?” Steph had been the only person to answer the distress call, probably because she was the only one awake, but still. “I mean, would it? If it’s gold maybe it tastes like that instead of iron.” She hummed, rummaging through Alfred’s stash, looking for steri-strips.
“Yeah I don’t think I know what gold tastes like enough to tell.” Thinking back it was a surprise this was the first time this had happened, he’d been injured before with the bats, surely he’d have noticed glowing blood before?
Apparently not.
What had happened was he’d gotten stabbed on patrol, lightly stabbed, obviously, but stabbed. It’d just barely cut through the skin, but it was bleeding, and a lot, so he’d called for help. He knows when the knife pulled back it was red. Clear as day in the sunlight, red.
“Be pretty cool to have funky blood, what metal do you think I’d need to have for purple blood?”
“Doesn’t potassium go lilac under a flame? Maybe that would work.” Duke half hummed, slightly considering tasting his blood, just to see.
By the time Steph had arrived it had been red, he knows that because he’d apologised about ruining her seat covers, and it was red then. Why is it glowing gold now?
“Aha!” Steph called, pulling out a pack of steri-strips, “got these and the wipes… where does-“ “I’ve got my own bandages.” “Cool beans.” She smiled, sliding next to him, tossing the stuff on the side, squirting hand sanitiser onto her palms.
He wasn’t taking his eyes off his arm, what if it changed again? Overall he’d looked away twice, getting out of Steph’s car, and when he’d stepped into the dark of the cave.
Into the dark.
He handed Steph a bandage, shooting up the second she pulled the knot tight.
“Hello??” Steph looked back at him, cocking her head to the side, “what are we doing?”
“Checking something.” He said, grabbing Steph’s keys from the side.
Her car was still parked in the sunlight, the light filtering through the glass. As he fumbled with the keys, he noticed the blood stain, all red, and all in the light.
“Dude if you wanna go for a joy ride we should just steal the bat-wagon or whatever it’s called.”
“It’s not that.” Duke clambered into the back seat, holding his hand up to block the sun over the stain.
It went gold.
“Huh.” Both breathed in unison.
Red, then gold. Light, then shadow. Red, then gold.
“Do.. you think we call Bruce?”
“I think we should’ve called Bruce when you got stabbed.”
“True.”
“You are so weird, fucking glowstick.”
@dukethomas-week
a/n: first time writing for simon riley, not proofread, please be nice (or don’t, i’ll survive maybe)
nsfw//mndi
18+
. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁. . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁. . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁. . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊
simon riley who won’t stop even when you’re writhing under him. he proudly eats pussy for the love of the game.
even after three orgasms in the span of thirty minutes, his tongue is still licking and lapping away at your precious cunt. knees trying to clench together while you’re shoving his head away.
simon riley who just tightens his grip on your thighs, grumbling under his breath.
a low “hol’ still, lovie. ‘m busy.” while he’s sucking your sensitive clit back into his mouth. you can’t stop the way your thighs tremble in his large hands.
scratches line his arms, your nails digging into his flesh with each pass of his tongue over your poor, sopping cunt.
“si, please. stop it. ‘s too much,” you whimper, still trying to get away.
he doesn’t care though, following you as your body contorts until you’re no longer on you back. instead, on your stomach and clawing at the sheets.
simon riley who crawls after you, only to tug your hips back.
“said ‘m busy,” he huffs. this time, he does pull away, but only long enough to glare at you.
“i can’t take anymore,” you whine, trying to catch your breath during his brief reprieve. simon eyes you closely, grip tightening on your thighs.
“no?” he hums, tilting his head.
“n-no,” you stumble, just as he starts tracing small circles over your clit. clamping down on your bottom lip, your hips lift in an attempt to chase his touch and your hand is flying out to tangle into his blonde hair.
“doesn’t seem like you can’t take anymore to me,” simon smirks. you whimper, face wet with fat tears when he lowers his mouth back onto your pussy.
you try to get away again, halfway off the bed when simon shifts into sniper mode. flat against the bed, simon grips your lower half, grinding his heavy cock into the mattress while keeping you in place as he continues his assault on your poor, sweet pussy.
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
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"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.
My sweet boy
I have a headcanon that Damian prefers his siblings' partners to his siblings themselves.
