Can I Say Something Crazy? Cw: Piss

Gaz is drowning with bitches, and Johnny is envious of it coz he can't pull.

So when you came out of Gaz's quarters crying, Johnny grinned as he preened before approaching you.

Because stealing Gaz's favorite bird is a hell of a way to one up the casanova.

original pic:

warm up doodle of my wife

nearly overslept for class and ugh. i hate that i have to wake up in the mornings to go to class that I need to get a degree instead of having a tall, buff military man spoil me materially and financially. literally the only thing that’s been keeping me going the past couple weeks is the thoughts of 141 sugar daddies 😭

Anon, I feel your pain. Us struggling college students have to get through this together. <3

That being said, absolutely delicious idea. Yum.

Price is the obvious choice but @ceilidho put the idea of sugar daddy Gaz in my brain and he’s been fermenting in there for days.

Unfortunately I think Soap spends his money as he gets it on dumb bullshit. As much as he’d love to spoil you he simply doesn’t got it like that. (He probably collects funko pops or something literally stupid) (I love him he’s horrible.)

And Ghost is a stingy motherfucker just because. Like he just doesn’t want to spend his money until he absolutely needs to and even then he’d probably consider being homeless for a little while before it came to that. (He actually just sucks idgaf he’s a nightmare. I want to put him through my mattress.)

BUT Gaz saves all his checks because he simply has nothing to spend them on. He gets the essentials, maybe rents a little flat for when they’re home, but otherwise he just tucks the money away. It’s not intentional, per-se, like he would spend it if he really wanted something, he just doesn’t really see the point in spending large amounts of cash on himself because he’s never stationary long enough to enjoy things like that.

Maybe he meets you by chance, it’s a one-off date that ends up going REALLY well. He foots the bill for dinner at a nice restaurant (bc he’s classy like that) and gives you a kiss on the cheek at the end of the night when he walks you back to your car. Next day, he has flowers delivered to your place with a note that says something about how he’d love to go out again if you’re interested.

Obviously you accept, but then the time comes around for your next date and you have to cancel because someone was offering quite a bit of money to get their shift covered at work and it was simply too good an offer to pass up. You apologize profusely and he’s completely understanding, tells you to just let him know when you want to reschedule.

When you get off work there’s another arrangement of flowers waiting on your doormat. Another note stuck in them with an envelope tucked behind it. The note is sweet. He’s sorry you had to go to work because he really would have loved to see you. There’s a gift card and instructions to get a coffee on him before class tomorrow because he remembered how miserably early your schedule started.

And then you open the envelope and there’s a few hundred dollars cash tucked neatly in it. You text him and ask if he meant to put it there and he responds with;

Didn’t want you to have any reason not to come next time. :)

You’re shocked to say the least. So so appreciative, but you try a few times to get him to take some of it back. Insisting it’s too much and he barely knows you but he shuts you down and insists it’s better spent on you than sitting in his savings gathering dust.

As time goes on, he’ll get to know you and your interests and niches better and instead of flowers, you’ll find new notebooks and a pack of the fancy pens you say write better. Straight up cash in an envelope with a scribbled heart on it. Jewelry he said reminded him of you. Lingerie, but always two sets at a time. One in your favorite color, one in his. Bits and baubles either from shops nearby or from his travels. Always with a handwritten note about where they’re from or why he got them for you or what he was doing when he saw it.

You make some joke about how he’s practically your sugar daddy and he teases you back in the moment but the idea sparks something fucking crazy in his brain. Loves the idea of taking care of you. Pays the rest of your lease as a birthday gift. Calls in and pays your tuition for your anniversary. If you ever try saying it’s too much, he’ll wave you off and shush you. Maybe try distracting you with lunch or he’ll say some fuckboy shit about I know how you can pay me back.

beautiful work, as always! Now what if I nonchalantly slip my hand down their pants? Like a stress toy....or ball, I guess....stress balls?

Gaz: the flincher. He’ll always be a little tense if you slip your hands in there without warning and grab his balls. He’s one of those people where if the cops drive by he’s like “this is it they’re gonna take me away” even though he literally hasn’t done anything so when you grab his balls he’s like “this is it I must’ve done something and now my nuts are gonna get gorilla gripped”. And what’s crazy is that he accepts that fate straight away.

Soap: he’s getting hard about it the minute the tip of your pinky breaches waistband.

Ghost: the number 1 fan of “just playin’ with ‘em”. Loves to mindlessly paw at you just to relax. So he’ll be 100% into you treating him like a stress toy.

Price: laughs and shakes his head. “Yeah, sweetheart, they’re still there.” Also in the very back of his mind he is wondering if there’s a chance testicular massage can contribute to rate of conception but he’ll never say that.

Price is literally so gross. silver fox seeking a pretty young thing after a divorce to the MAX. his ex wife comes over to drop off their son but you open the door instead, cotton-plated in one of his shirts and hair damp from your recent shower. Price takes over and you can hear his wife’s voice from the foyer—“how old is she? she barely looks an undergraduate, John” and he acts sheepish but Lord knows he doesn’t care. Ou.

Simon Riley appreciates hand jobs more than anything else.

He's surprised that you're even interested in him, so when you initiate intimacy, he's over the moon, because as feared as he might be on the battlefield, he's an inexperienced, insecure man in private.

When you pull his throbbing cock out and spit on his flushed, ruddy tip for the first time, he immediately cums all over your hands with a broken groan and quivering thighs while you kneel between them.

His face is flushed and his chest tight with embarrassment and fear—fear that you'll get up and leave after this, but all you do is smile ever so sweetly, still pumping his twitching prick while cooing gentle reassurances at him—and it keeps him rock hard while your saccharine voice and your soft hands are everything he can focus on.

The slick sounds and sight are driving him mad, just as mad as the fact that you need both hands to properly stroke and massage his thick shaft and heavy balls.

And when his second orgasm sneaks up on him, pooling hot and tight at the base of his spine, while his back arches and his hands nearly rip the couch cushions apart, Simon can't even hear his own wanton moans through the cotton filling his skull as his cockhead gushes with another massive load of sticky white cum, painting your supple skin with his very essence.

You don't let up. "One more, baby," you purr, flashing a wicked grin up at him, eyes twinkling like gemstones in the lowlight of your living room. "I need one more from you, okay? You sound so good when you come for me."

He's dizzy with arousal, burning up under his clothes, utterly spent and overstimulated, and yet he can't bring himself to say no—well aware that you won't let him, anyway.

Simon nods, swallowing thickly. "Olright," he gruffs, breath hitching when your thumb rubs over his sensitive, slick slit.

His body trembles, his chest heaves before he lets out the most pathetic whimper when you pick up the pace again.

You giggle softly, and his toes curl so hard in his boots, his feet nearly cramp up. "Atta boy, just like that. Let me hear you."

Your praise makes his pulse spike and the vein in his temple throb. "F–Fuck." Simon's head tips against the backrest, eyes rolling back as his balls draw up tightly again—too soon. Way too soon.

He's a goner—and your hands are bloody magical.

Ghost wasn’t even looking for you two. He just needed to grab a goddamn med kit. That’s it. A simple in-and-out trip to the supply closet.

But the moment he opened the door, he knew.

Grunting. Breathing. Whispers. The thud of something hitting metal.

He paused in the doorway, completely still, staring into the dim room as his brain registered what he was seeing.

Soap. Shirt halfway off. Neck covered in bite marks. Mouth open in some silent, stunned expression of praise the lord and ruin me more. Hands gripping the edge of a crate like it was the only thing keeping him upright.

And you? Pressed against him. One hand buried in his hair, the other dragging slowly down his back, nails scratching like you were claiming territory.

You didn’t even look away when Ghost appeared. You just kept your body flush with Soap’s, breath brushing against his ear as you looked directly at Ghost and said,

“Occupied.”

Soap finally realized they weren’t alone, eyes wide as he choked out, “*Ghost—fuck—*this isn’t—”

Ghost held up a hand. “Nope.”

Just turned around and closed the door without another word. Stood in the hallway for a moment. Processing.

Then muttered, “They’re gonna burn this place to the ground and call it foreplay.”

He walked away. Found Gaz.

“Don’t go in the supply closet.”

Gaz blinked. “Why not?”

“They’re in there.”

Gaz paused. “Doing what?”

Ghost didn’t stop walking. “Pick a verb.”

smut! 18+ below, minors dni.

thinking about ellie accidentally sending you a video of her fingering herself.

the video preview is completely dark, so you have no clue what to expect when you click the play button. you assume it’s another one of her rants - lately she’s taken to sending you clips of herself complaining about her family, work, politics. she’s sent a few videos of her trying new foods while completely obliterated on an edible, too, which you’re kind of hoping for. her eyes look so pretty all droopy and red, and she has the cutest laugh when she’s high.

but oh, no. this is… nothing like that.

you’re lounging in bed, head propped up against a pillow, when you get the notification from ellie and click to your text thread. you hit play on the video, watching with a furrowed brow as the camera moves from darkness - the forest green fabric of ellie’s duvet, you realize - to reveal her room. and it’s a familiar sight; you’ve been there a hundred times. but that’s where the familiarity ends.

because this new camera angle shows ellie naked from the waist down.

she’s flushed, her cheeks tinged the faintest shade of pink. her chest rises and falls in a quick rhythm; the light catches on a smear of wetness on her inner thigh, and you realize with a flutter in your belly that she’d been going at it for a while before she’d pulled out the camera.

“okay, fuck,” ellie pants, her voice a bit tinny through the speakers of your cell phone. she lifts one muscled thigh to her bed, which she’s standing before - right in front of the camera. your mouth goes dry as your eyes flicker over her body: heather grey tank riding up her toned hips, the faintest sheen of sweat on her chest, her thigh flexing as she spreads herself in front of the camera.

“i got close beforehand so i wouldn’t… didn’t wanna be nervous,” she says, avoiding eye contact with her phone. “but i’m - wait. why the fuck am i talking? you’re not supposed to talk in these, are you?”

blood rushes into your cheeks, warming your face until you feel like your skin is about to burn off. you should probably stop watching, shouldn’t you? you should click out of the video, pretend you never opened it in the first place. this is clearly not for you to see.

but you can’t look away.

ellie reaches her hand between her legs, and your stomach warms with arousal. there’s a flutter between your legs that leaves you squeezing your thighs together, seeking pressure.

“oh god,” ellie mutters as her fingers play in her own pussy, the lewd, wet sounds echoing. she slips a finger inside of herself, then two, her eyes fluttering shut as a string of curses leaves her lips.

she starts to pump her fingers, the heel of her hand pressed to her clit, and your breath catches in your throat when she looks up at the camera. you know she’s not really looking at you this way, but you tense up regardless. the look in her eyes is sultry, lustful, hungry.

there’s a growing damp spot on your underwear.

ellie’s getting close; her brows are pinched together in concentration, and each of her moans is more ragged and high-pitched than the last. beneath the thin fabric of her tank, you see her abs tense with her impending orgasm. you bite your lip until you’re sure you taste blood.

she comes with a shuddering cry, bicep flexing as her hand stalls between her legs. strands of auburn hair, darkened with sweat, cling to her freckled forehead. she lowers her leg from the bed and stands upright again, still panting. she reaches for the camera and the video ends.

you’re still staring wide-eyed at your phone when a series of texts come through from ellie.

oh my god

please tell me you didn’t see that

holy fuck i’m an idiot

i’m so sorry

i did not mean to send that to you. holy shit i’m sorry

your chest tightens with sympathy - you can imagine how panicked ellie is on the other line, how utterly ruined her post-orgasm bliss must be.

you type out a quick response: it’s okay. give me a second to reply, alright?

finding a convenient place to prop up your phone, you hook your thumbs over your underwear and tug them off, leaning forward to press record on your phone.

read part two here!