It's Been Seven Months Since She's Stopped Holding His Hand All The Time And Started Walking Four Little

Hi!!!!! How do you think Nikolai would eventually confront you in the secret baby scenario?

It depends on whether or not you crack! But in the scenario where you don’t, I imagine he’d bring it up at a pretty terrible time.

Your baby’s first birthday, maybe. Pulls you aside to the kitchen, helping you to clean up after the smash cake while the others take turns making the baby laugh.

“Milaya, tell me the truth. She’s mine, isn’t she?”

It’s right to the point. Well, as much as it can be after he’s spent so long waiting for her to crack and confess.

“Yes. But I don’t have any expectation that you’ll be her father, so don’t worry.” You say it so easily, like it’s natural that’s what he would want. Like it doesn’t hurt him to watch her grow up without her papa.

“Why would I be worried about that?”

You set a plate in the sink before turning to face him. “Listen, Nik— I don’t want you to volunteer because you feel obligated. I didn’t write your name on the birth certificate or anything. I’ll be fine— she already has quite a lot of male role models, don’t you think? You don’t have to ruin your life just because you made the mistake of sleeping with me.” Once again, you tear out his heart with such little effort.

“It wasn’t a mistake. Not to me. You really think I’d feel that way? That I’d spend all that time chasing you and regret it?”

“Whether or not you enjoyed yourself, you’re not built for a relationship, much less a family. You know why you had to chase me? I didn’t want to be involved with a man who’s constantly in the far corners of the world fighting other people’s battles. And I definitely don’t want that for my daughter. I don’t want to see her waiting at the door on the day you don’t come back.”

“I would never abandon you—“

“Don’t you get it? You might not have a choice.”

nsfw

sucking and jerking simon off bcs he is too tired when he comes back from deployment but his dick cant help but be hard. all that time away from you makes him ache.

his head falls into the pillow and he lets out soft grunts and moans, he is half asleep but your soft hand on his big cock makes him stay somehow conscious. your soft kisses on hid jaw and neck make him feel warm, he is too tired to kiss you back, his mouth and tongue are not able to match your pace.

simon cums fast, but he is hard again. and you take good care of him until he cums 2 or 3 times, sometimes 4.

"i'll make it up to you..." he whispers before falling asleep, and he does. next morning, after a good sleep he wakes up ready to show you how much he missed you.

soap the type of guy to pretend to give u backshots if u lean over a counter

me waiting on yall to make these sinner fics 😭🧍🏾‍♀️

ohhhh.... All those Pictures in my head from your Piercing HC's.. why do you give me more and more to dream about when I should Work?

But, the thought alone of running my tongue along those ladders, or bite Just above or below that Belly Piercing... Mhmm...

Anything Else? You fixed me with horny thoughts, i would Like to have more please.

Oughhhh

Ghost counting the rungs as you try to take all of him into your mouth. You try to placate the heavy push of his hand on the back of your head by laving your tongue against the remaining bars, doing your best to avoid gagging when he adjusts his hips. You whine when he tells you "that's three sweet'eart, four more." Because you know he won't let you up until you can feel the metal of his ladder scraping your throat.

Jerking your head down, surprising your gag reflex into submission and shushing you when you protest, gurgling and pushing at his thighs. "Four," he tells you, his voice rumbling straight between your legs, "swallow, swall- there you go." Petting your head like he's gentling an animal, not training your throat to stretch around his fat cock.

You go cross-eyed staring at the little jewel on his belly button piercing as he holds you at the base, the glint of it almost hypnotizing as you struggle to swallow around his thick length, making you fuzzy headed from something more than just a lack of oxygen...

18+ minors do not interact!

john price who's still a virgin at the age of 48. somehow sex never happened for him, sure he'd dated, he's kissed people but nothing more than that. his dates never calling him back or sending him messages that they don't see this going anywhere because of his work. always seems to be because of his work, it's almost like a curse.

then he meets you and it's different, you stick around for a second date that becomes a third then a fourth and a fifth and eventually you're a couple.

the first time time you bring up sex he goes quite, glancing away as he rubs his nape and softly admits he's still a virgin, pink flush across his cheeks as he waits for you to laugh and tease him. that never happens though, instead you ask why, listen to him as he talks, take his hand and kiss him as you ask him to let you be his first.

he almost cums the second he sinks into you, the heat around his cock, the feeling of you clenching around, the way your breath hitched and your eyes went glassy all too much for him. he doesn't though.

grits his teeth and sits back to take a breath before ever so slowly pulling almost all the way out before punching back in, a loud broken moan leaving his lips as you gasp and grip his biceps, eyes rolling back because you just feel so full. he's so big and stretches you out so much there's no room for anything else, you can feel all of him inside you, twitching and rubbing against you.

it only take a couple more thrusts before he's hunching over you "just feels too good" as he's caging you in his arms. "i'm sorry" leaving his lips like a chant as he jackhammers into you, panting and whining with his face buried in your neck as he starts to drool. your fingers gripping onto his back so hard they leave bruises and he cums, his whole body shuddering as he moans so loud it echos in the room.

he finally sits back on his legs, slowly pulling his twitching cock out of your hole and watching his cum leak out before he's pushing your legs to your chest and burying his face in your hole. lapping up his cum as he mumbles that he's going to make it up to you for not making you cum, his hands leaving your legs and wandering down your body and between your thighs.

Soap who’s so fucking nasty

Soap who does every single thing that your other boyfriends refused to do.

He kisses you after you suck him off. Eats his own cum out of you. Pins you down to get a taste of you when you’ve just come home after a long day— doesn’t let you shower. Likes you unshaven. Doesn’t want you wearing deodorant or perfume on his birthday.

He likes to fuck you when you’re sick because fevers just make your cunt even hotter than usual. And he’ll still shove his tongue down your throat— he doesn’t give a damn if he gets sick.

When you wake up he’ll start making out with you, smearing his cheek against the drool you left on the pillow.

He tells you he can practically smell your sweet, wet cunt. Then when he gets you undressed, he just buries his head between your legs and breathes deep.

Every time you go hiking he wants a pussyjob from you. He wants to leave a sticky mess for you to feel in your panties on the way back down. The leggings you wear just drive him crazy like that.

He likes for you to get each other off while you’re still clothed and then swap underwear.

tw: self-shipping; emotional boner; premature ejaculation, mild degradation

Johnny gets hard when I listen to him.

As in, paying attention. Listening to his stories, his ramblings, his opinions, his problems. I never once tell him to shut up, he simply notices himself when he's been talking non-stop for more than an hour. I sigh, my eyes start drifting around the room. I'm like a dog making whale eyes and yawning, a cat flicking her tail, flattening her ears.

And then he gives me space until I invite him to continue; asking a question, for a followup, and he obliges happily.

We're just friends at this point, but he stopped having meaningless hookups a while ago. He won't admit it, but he couldn't get hard for the woman the last time he tried having meaningless sex. It shook him to his very core.

He even went to the dick doctor on base, but his dick is fine, which makes it even worse.

And then, one evening, as I'm cooking dinner for us, because he invited himself over again, his chatty voice fizzles out after talking non-stop, no period nor comma, and I glance over my shoulder, making eye contact with him, show him that I'm still listening with a social cue.

But Johnny sits at the kitchen table, tattooed forearms resting on the top, spine rigid, breathing shallowly. He's staring at the wall as if seeing a ghost.

"You okay?" I ask, lowering the temperature on the stove to let the pasta sauce cook slowly.

"Mhm, 'course," he answers curtly, and he squirms on the chair, wood creaking under his weight.

I glance down, following the movement of his thick thighs in his jeans as he squeezes them together. My eyebrows draw together, crease now between them, an invisible question mark appearing above my head.

"The hell are you doing? Go pee if you have to. Dinner's not ready yet, anyway." I let out a laugh, because it sounds so stupid. He's a grown ass man. A spec ops soldier.

He lets out a half-snort/half-scoff at that.

"Dinnae 'ave ta take a piss," he retorts, all little too snappishly for my liking, and I almost feel like starting an argument just for shits and giggles.

"Then why did you stop talking? That's a fucking first." I taunt, dropping the wooden spoon on the counter before walking over to him, pushing at his shoulder with my fingertips.

He hisses and grits his teeth, looking like he's in pain. My attitude drops, and my expression softens. Perhaps he's having some sort of silent panic attack?

"Hey "

As I rest my palm on his back, rubbing the taut muscle mass in wide, soothing circles, he shudders and lets out a choked moan. A sound that has my whole being freeze, my hand stilling on his back.

"Keep going, keep going, keep go "

His head tips back, lips parted with a soft groan, and our eyes meet over his shoulder. His bright blue, unnecessarily pretty eyes look hazy, his pupils blown. As I peer down at his crotch, I notice the outline of his cock straining against his jeans. I always had a hunch that he's big.

No man, this cocky and capable, has a small dick.

"Are you a little excited there, Johnny?" I coo at him, palm rubbing over his back again as I lift my other hand to rest on his left shoulder, massaging lightly.

He has the audacity to nod and let out another throaty groan before swallowing audibly.

"Can you come without touching your cock?"

He nods again, his eyelids flutter, and cheeks begin to blush furiously. I've never seen that look on him before, but I enjoy it tremendously.

"Of course, you can, you fucking pervert."

Johnny huffs in what sounds in agitation, but his blush only deepens in colour and I can practically watch his cock twitch and drool in his pants.

I reach up to tug on his short Mohawk, enough to pull his head back further, and he lets out a high-pitched groan before squeezing his eyes shut in embarrassment.

"Pretend ye didnae hear tha' ah," he pleads, hands balling into fists on the tabletop as I give his short hair another firm tug.

"Aw, I think I won't," I reply, leaning forward to murmur against his temple, lips pressing against his burning skin, "Actually, I think... I'll make sure that sound you made is burned into my brain, so I can use it for later, Johnny. For when I'm playing with my pretty wet pussy all by myself."

"Oh, fuck !" His thighs jerk, knees bumping and rattling the table as he lifts his hips, humping the air with a pathetic cry of pleasure.

I watch the dark stain on his blue jeans become bigger while slumps down in the chair, and I keep rubbing his shoulders while he catches his ragged breath.

Muzzled at last.

I give his back a few gentle pats, pretending I'm fine, even though my heart is racing and my mind along with it. I just made him cum in his pants. Hands-free.

"Wanna talk about it, champ?" I croon, glancing at him over my shoulder as I walk back over to the stove, tending to dinner.

He lifts his hand to flip me off.

Ghost still needs to make sure that Soap is alive

New continuation to this

I’m sitting on the idea of Ghoap x Reader AU where Reader is Simon’s best friend that’s been with him since childhood, through thick and thin.

They leave together when they graduate, start renting a flat before Simon leaves for army which initially changes nothing. He still comes whenever he can, calls them pretty often, he’s there for Christmases (if they get leaves for it).

And then something changes. It’s nothing noticeable, he is just a little more distant, he’s slipping their Christmas for the first time instead inviting Reader to come out somewhere in Scottish Highlands (you decline partially because you are upset that he just cancelled out on you all of a sudden and partially you and Simon are two socially inept people and the thought of spending Christmas with bunch of people you don’t know is…well, not alluring).

And then at some point Simon introduces the shiny John (“Johnny”, practically purrs Simon and you feel your blood pressure rising) “Soap” MacTavish who’s beautiful and joyful and whose smile is infectious.

And you are cordial, trying to be friendly, trying to push down the “oh, so that’s who you spent Christmas with in Scotland” because it’s not fair to Simon, because Simon doesn’t owe you anything, you aren’t together after all.

And Soap is incredibly friendly, grinning wide, touchy in a way that overwhelms you at some point, discomfort probably evident because Simon pulls Soap away by the nape of his neck, growling that he needs to let you breathe.

And it would be better if Soap instead didn’t drape his hand over Ghost’s shoulders and god, you never were one to be jealous but for some reason (yeah, why is that, i wonder) you want to hole up somewhere and hide.