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In irl im anti-smoking cigars and cigarettes and shit but hear me out yea?

Bouncing on Price’s cock like it was your job. Hands on his chest, chasing that high like it was the only thing that mattered.

He rolled his hips in slow languid thrusts, content to watch you ride him. The cigar hung lazily between his teeth, lit and menacing.

Who knew the new recruit would be so willing to fuck their superior officer.

Price was getting close. That heat low in his gut was telling.

His hand palmed your ass, gripping you to rock you back and forth on his dick. Just how he wanted. Once. Twice. Once more, before he was spraying inside of you. He groaned, a low rumbling sound in his throat. Thick hot ropes smearing between your thighs while it spilled from your hole.

You whined, head falling into his shoulder in dismay. He was sure your stomach was cramping by now. This was the third time he had stopped you from finishing.

Stupid boy. Still green behind the ears.

He pushed you back just enough to see your sad face.

Price smiled at you, then took a long drag of his cigar. And blew the smoke over your face.

“Ready f’nother round, then?”

Yall ain't hear me the first time, imma say it again. SO!

Soap MacTavish x Fat! Herbalist! Reader who makes poison in their spare time for fun, or no?

mdni - ageless dni

Idk guys I’m sick

T gave you just about everything you had wanted. A stronger body, muscle mass, a five o’clock shadow, thick fuller hair, a deeper voice, and even squared out your jawline.

The only thing it hadn’t done was make you any taller. Which your teammates seemed especially fond of.

Soap had taken to calling you “Wee Lad” among various other small centered nicknames.

Ghost had settled for the classics calling you short.

Gaz preferred fun size, and little guy.

And Price, thankfully kept the nicknames to a minimum. Though, the expanse of short jokes never seemed to run dry when you were involved.

You couldn’t even win a fucking argument, the minute those assholes sensed they were losing they’d simply end it with a “well you’re short.” As though that best out everything,

Soap was by far the worst instigator. He liked to lean on you, elbow flat on your head like you were no more than a desk. He liked to offer to send you into vents as needed as well.

“Aye, well he’s the smallest, an’ we’re no’ gonnae fit in there. C’mon on, send in the mouse.”

And you were unfortunately good at it. It was how you got your callsign after all.

Mouse.

Yall I need more freaky moots

Thinking about roommate!Soap who is a freak. A pervert. A stalker. You can call him whatever you damn well please, because he doesn’t care. Not when his nose is buried in your dirty underwear, and his hand is down his pants, until he’s choking on a sob.

He doesn’t care when he’s using your tooth brush because that’s basically a French kiss.

Doesn’t care when he’s rutting against your pillows because your face was there and that’s almost like getting head.

Soap doesn’t care, usually. Except when Simon is around. You boyfriend. Your boyfriend who found Soap’s camera in your room, and instead of telling you, fucked you in front of it for Soap to watch how good you take Simon’s cock.

Too bad for Simon. Soap liked that too.

Erm hear me out yeah?

(Read tags for warnings)

Price sliding his cock through your folds, paying extra attention to make sure he grinds against your t dick. Sweet swollen little thing.

He loves watching you writhe and moan beneath him. Crying out his name when you break for the second time tonight.

Price frotting with you and working your little cock between his forefinger and thumb jerking you off until your nails dug into his shoulders. And he sank into your heat.

Feeling your walls flutter around his dick. God he loved you like this. Loved your sounds and your sweet little cock.

But most of all, he was going to love getting his boyfriend pregnant. All that muscle turned round and soft. He’d make you his husband. Say it’s for the sake of the baby.

He rutted into you, fingers stroking your t dick to bring you to yet another release. He wanted you so fucked out you wouldn’t even question his lack of a condom.

You panted his name, as he spilled inside your heat.

His sweet boyfriend would look so good, carrying his child.

Something…something

Simon “Ghost” Riley who wasn’t bothered by the divorce, who even gave a damn about that marriage anyway? Not him. Not when his new neighbor was some cute college kid.

Simon “Ghost” Riley who shouldn’t have been thinking about dicking down his twenty something year old neighbor.

Simon “Ghost” Riley the neighbor who was much too old for you who couldn’t help but watch you change through your windows. Silly boy, not putting curtains up first.

Simon “Ghost” Riley, who you caught jerking off to you getting undressed. Watching you from his own bedroom window.

Simon “Ghost” Riley who came knocking on your door not even five minutes later..

Simon “Ghost” Riley shoving your face into the mattress as his other hand grips your waist. His cock slamming into your hole like it was always meant to be there.

Simon “Ghost” Riley who left you sore, lonesome, and full of his hot spend. Who went back to his house, because he knew.

Sweet desperate boys like you always came crawling back to him.

Something something

Ghost stroking it to your voice over a professional call.

Something about you being from HR. The Higher ups. Brass tacks. Whatever you wanted to call it.

Probably should’ve paid him if you wanted him to focus on anything other than the sweet new intern they hired.

A shy thing you were. Mousy guy.

Ghost recognized faintly that he should’ve been ashamed.

Disappointed in himself as his hand grabbed the base of his cock and squeezed, imagining sliding in and out of you.

God he loved your voice. Vaguely, he wondered what you’d sound like after he choked you on his cock.

His thumb pressed over his reddened cock head, pressing a drop of pre to leak down his hand.

Would it be lower? Raspy? Whiny?

Fucking hell.

Ghost grabbed the first paper he found on the table. Holding it steady over his weeping slit as he pumped feverishly, listening to you go back over the minutes.

Close. So close.

“Okay. I think that’s it.” You voice came through the speaker on his phone.

He gritted his teeth. A muscle twitching in his jaw as you said your goodbyes.

“Goodbye, Ghost.” You said.

Pearlescent fluid sprayed over the page in his hand. Catching his spend so it didn’t get all over his hands.

He grunted. A mix between a goodbye and the last remnants of his pleasure spilling from his body.

Fuck, he ruined his copy of the meeting agenda.

I like my men in a dress

Putting Johnny in a dress and the laying that man flat on his back and giving him the best fucking head of his life.

Putting Gaz in a dress, taking that man from behind. Skirt bunched up around his waist and gripping his hips until they bruise.

Putting Ghost in a dress and letting him ride you (and or your strap) fuck. He’d be mean with it too.

Putting Roach in a dress and taking him up against a door. Because he would look so damn sweet in it.

I don’t think you could convince Price into a dress. But I do think he’d like fucking his sweet boy over his desk, while you wear a dress or skirt. I think price would like seeing his boyfriend like that a lot.

That’s it that’s the post