Reblog To Put One Of These In Your Mutuals’ Pocket When They’re Not Looking

i’m so fucken sick and i’m exhausted. Don’t know what I’ve got. Could be the absolute piss yellow clouds of pollen? absolutely! Could I have gotten something from the little brats that were near me open mouth coughing- that was definitely a sick cough? yup!

Saw a post like this with negative outlook so I asked for it to be fixed

Mhmm that too. I wanna be dead after that.

I would hope that I was used like a rag doll. I need to stuffed in multiple ways. I want to be a dead whore. 😂

It makes me giggle at the fact that you’re like nanami, now. I want both Nanami and Sanemi to tag team me. Like good bye walking. (It would be so worth it)

bestie tag-teaming implies they’re taking turns and that’s just not good enough.

I need BOTH. At the same time. I need to be a double stuffed spit roast incapable of breathing or leaking anything that ain’t them.

If I’m alive at the end of it, then we’ve gotta go again because clearly something didn’t go right. If my hair is still attached to my head?? They need to grip it harder. It my hips are still properly set?? Someone force me into the splits because clearly I wasn’t doing my job correctly.

JESUS- THAT’S JOHN PRICE. AWOOOO! I would love to be his housewife.😍😍

I wish I could be a whore for him.🥴😍🥺🥺🥺

ONLY YOURS (Sub!Price x GN!Reader)

price masterlist — price picture credit

summary; he’s just too damn loud. — 1.7k words

[WARNINGS; sub!price, dom/sub dynamics, power imbalance, secret relationships, handjob, light degradation, biting, out of place fluff.]

John watches as Soap laughs and slaps Gaz on his back over some story, his other hand holding a cup of some sort of alcohol; some brand that John doesn’t personally drink. He’s just thankful that it isn’t tequila as he doesn’t want a face full of his spit and the tequila. In John’s hand is a nice cup of whiskey, something that burns but goes down fairly easy. His eyes look into his cup, watching the dark liquid swirl around, vaguely hearing Ghost, who is next to him, speak up about Soap’s story, something about correcting a detail. John doesn’t care too much to pay attention at the moment, not when the alcohol is beginning to kick in just the right way. It’s rare that he gets these moments with his men; being able to drink together as John is nearly always busying himself with something. 

“—That reminds me, Captain,” Soap hums, a grin stretched across his face. John picks his eyes up from his glass of whiskey, locking eyes with the tipsy Scotsman. “You’ve seemed much more relaxed, aye?”

John’s lip twitches as he hums before taking a sip of his whiskey, relishing the burn. He nods, his other hand coming up to rub the pleasantly sensitive skin underneath his jacket. “My stress has been much better these days, yes.” John replies with a chuckle. Oh, only if they knew.

Only if they knew why.

God, John feels like such a teenager sneaking around like this; he can’t get enough of the rush you give him, the secrecy you two have to maintain—when you sit on his desk and you force him to stand between your legs with his heavy cock in your hand. John shudders as you grab the front of his shirt and pull him closer—you said no touching, so John scrambles to plant his palms down on the desk on the outside of your thighs to keep himself up. You laugh as he struggles to be obedient, as he lets you position him however you want. Your wrist absentmindedly keeps bumping against the edge of the desk due to how close John’s body is, but you don’t mind. You don’t mind at all, not when John is letting out shuddery grunts and groans as he struggles to stay quiet.

“God,” He groans lowly, his voice gritty and deep in his chest. He’s so close, your breath brushes over his face and all he wants to do is lean forward to kiss you. You ghost your lips over his as your hand begins to drag up and down his leaking cock, pulling a loud gasp out of him. Delicious pleasure shoots up his spine and melts deep in his chest and gut as your hand continues to squeeze precum from him. John’s fingers dig into the wood of his desk as his head reels from how good your hand feels. Your lips twitch into a smile as you watch John’s eyelids flutter and how he nearly leans into you for a kiss but always at the last second, he catches himself; because he wants to be good. John swears as your hand around his cock speeds up, spreading his precum along the length, making your hand a slicker surface to slide against. 

You tsk as one particular moan bounces off the wall, and you don’t miss the way his hips jolt forward. “Oh, Captain..” You murmur, your eyes never leaving his pleasure drunk face. John’s eyelids open and he looks back at you, causing his dick to twitch in your palm, his hazy eyes settling on yours—like he’s waiting for you to talk. “And here I thought that the talk we had was important; how we need to be careful and quiet.” You taunt, leaning your cheek against his, your lips brushing against his ear. John’s skin burns from touching yours and he wants more, more, more, more—”But here you are, moaning like a fuckin’ whore.” 

John shudders, doing his damn best staying still, letting you play with his cock and heavy balls all you want. “Bloody hell, sweetheart—” John breathes out and you can tell he isn’t complaining about the degradation. In fact, you swear your knuckles are stickier. You hold his cock with one hand and your other hand comes down to the head, your finger swirling right under the mushroom tip causing John to shout out and his hips thrust into your hand, his brain melting and pouring out of his ears—your hand comes up and slaps against his mouth, causing his eyelids to pop open. You’re talking, but John has no idea what you’re saying, not when you’re mercilessly teasing his tip, fuck, he wants to cum so bad.

Your hand that is covering his mouth pats his cheek, leaving a slight sting behind; just enough to ground him back into reality. You were high off of the power your Captain gave to you. Your superior, the man who others respected due to his presence, his work, his efforts; is handing everything over to you. “I’m talking to you, Captain.” You add a mocking tone at the end. “M’listenin’.” John says with a heavy tone, his breath hitching in his throat. You click your tongue, causing him to tense. He suppresses the noises of complaints that threaten to leave his mouth. “Now, there’s one thing I don’t like. Why don’t you tell me what that is, Captain?”

John swallows the spit that has accumulated in his mouth. “Liars.” He whispers, his face burning with embarrassment. God, you being in control is thrilling, sneaking around is thrilling but he can’t ignore the embarrassment that bubbles in his gut every time. “I didn’t hear you, John. You want to be quiet now, but when it matters, you’re whimpering so loudly that I bet someone heard; you know Soap has a blabbermouth,” You grin as you witness John feel conflicted, but you don’t ignore the way his cock throbs in your hand. 

John lets out an unsteady breath, and nods—he doesn’t know what he’s agreeing to anymore, which tugs another laugh from your chest. John didn’t think he was the type to do this; he was sure only reckless privates and other lower ranks would risk something like this. Handjobs, quickies, everything of the sort on base. If you told him three years ago what he was doing right at this moment, his mouth would’ve frowned and shook his head in disbelief, and he wouldn’t blame his past self for doing so. Risking his whole career for a little stress belief—except, you’re more than stress relief to him and he’s more than a toy for you to play with. John loves when you distract him from the paperwork he has to do by wrapping a hand around his throat, leaning in—so uncharacteristic of him, he thinks—but he loves it more when you press a loving kiss against his temple.

John likes it when your hand touches the small of his back to check in with him, and he likes doing it in return. He likes speaking with only glances, and no words; sending you glances only the two of you understand. You can read him like no other. John likes it when you don’t question his authority as a Captain, you respect his rank and his experience, despite your control in the bedroom—or should you say office? John liked it when he realized you began to get up earlier, at the time he got up just to spend more time with him—an hour or two just for the two of you, sipping your morning drinks in silence together. He’s embarrassed at how easily you got him under your thumb because his libido is suddenly like it was when he was much younger; he isn’t too old, but he’s certainly aged a bit.

He’s brought back to reality by your hand squeezing the back of his neck then traveling to the back of his head, grasping threads of his short hair and gently tugging. “You with me, John?” You ask, your voice firmer than before. John makes a noise as he settles back into reality, his eyelids blinking rapidly as the unbearably hot feeling of arousal swirls in his gut. “M’with you, love.” John croaks, your eyes locking with his. Your eyebrow cocks ever so slightly—he knows what you want. “Green. Just a bit out of it.” John adds, noticing the way your eyebrow relaxes back into place. You hum and let go of his hair, letting his head lean forward a bit more than its previous strenuous position. 

“Out of it?” You question, your hand tilting his head to the side by his chin. John’s eyes stay on you, searching for any hint of how you feel, but your eyes have drifted down to his neck area. Your hand trails down from his chin to the buttons on his shirt, which you slowly begin to undo with one hand, your other still loosely wrapped around his cock. “Mm, you mean you were distracted, John.” You mock pout, you blink, and your eyes meet his again. John swallows, your eyes swirling with something he craves. 

“Dont’cha worry, pet. I’ll get you back on track.” John’s eyes widen at the name—pet—but he doesn’t have time to think about it too much when you pull one of the flaps of his shirt to the side and you sink your teeth into his shoulder harshly. “Fuck—” John curses, his hips jolting as the pain swirls against his nerves, your teeth hungrily biting down on his muscle and flesh. You pull away and John winces for a second, his breath stuttering when he sees something red on your teeth. Blood. You grin and lick your teeth, somehow stealing all of John’s air from his lungs. 

His knees buckle—and crack—violently when your hand suddenly begins to stroke his painfully hard cock, causing him to gasp. “Shit, love—” John moans out of appreciation, and you roll your eyes and grab his face, covering his mouth. “Noisy brat.” You reprimand as you stroke his cock. “My noisy brat.” John can’t believe himself when he nods, agreeing with you because he is yours. All of him is yours—like you are his.

if u voted for trump, I mean this in the most disrespectful way possible, I do not want anything to do with you. Not only did you vote against basic human rights and equality, you decided rascism, homophobia, islamophobia, transphobia & misogynistic behavior wasn't a deal breaker. i do not want your follow or support ! thank you.

Sub ghost drinking readers milk and grinding against her leg whilst calling her mommy? Love your work!

you know what just for you anon. i’ll pause my game of evade. (i don’t do requests much anymore but.. i’ll take suggestions like @sant-riley riley and @frogchiro, top recommendation tbh) sorry for the tag, will remove if u wish :}

REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED!!!!

warnings: AFAB!reader, implied pregnant!reader with the lactation itself, Lacatation, sub!Ghost, Mommy Kink,

warm lips latched around your nipple, tongue lapping before suckling. You let out a strangled moan, hand cradling Simons head, tufts of brown hair caught between your fingers.

You didn’t think that the sight of your milk stained chest, black tank top darkened over your nipples, would make Simon go into a frenzy but it did.

You could say you didn’t expect it, but you’re smarter than that. With the way he was on your nipples nearly every night, dumping his load on your thigh or inside of your warm cunt, it unlocked a new, even softer, side of him.

“Baby-Baby- slow down—“ you try to calm the man and his feverish suckling, but to no avail. One hand cupping your left breast while his other hoisted your thigh onto his hip; forcing your other to slot between his strong thighs.

“Hun- Si- it’s not gonna go anywhere. oh!!” a noise of surprise leaves your throat when he nibbles, it makes your eyes roll back with a flutter. His mouth falls open as he rests his forehead against your collarbone, heavy breaths fan against your tit.

He’s almost shy with the way he gently ruts against your thigh, as if he wasn’t allowed to and he was sneaking this in. You scratch his scalp gently, encouraging his actions as you push your thigh against his crotch with force.

A shake in his knees followed with a deep groan before he latched back on and started to suck harder, milk spilling on his tongue, filling his mouth before he takes a large swallow. Nostrils flaring as he breathes in air again.

“That’s it baby, take what you need, mommy will give it to you” His hand on your thigh tightens as he grinds more slowly but deeply on your thigh, peeking between your bodies you spot a large wet spot on his gray sweatpants, right where the head of his cock sits.

“Need- need your pussy- mommy.” His voice is rough but dripping with need. You decide to be a little cruel, simple pay back to how sensitive he’s made your nipples with all the abuse.

“No. Cum on my thigh first.” He whines but complies. His rutting becomes faster, milk spills from between his lips and drips down his chin.

“That’s my good boy, so sweet to me. So sweet for mommy” You can’t lie and say your panties aren’t soaked, cause they are. Whatever spell Simon put on you when he first nursed from you, is still effective weeks later.

The air is hot and stuffy, your head spins as pleasure rocks through your body, like a ship at sea, taking the brute waves head on.

Simon grunts out a curse, before he practically humps your leg like a dog in heat, you look down, wanting to see him cum. He stills and suddenly the dark patch on his sweats gets bigger, quickly running down his length in dark gray tears, his cock twitches freely against the thin material. With each burst of cum came a twitch,

Simon moves again, riding the wave of his orgasm. He pants heavily, groaning when his cock aches for more, remembering the promise of your pussy plays on his mind.

“Good boy, You did so good.” His hand leaves your breast and trails down to your panties, tugging at the elastic. You can’t help but giggle,

“Okay big boy, you earned your reward.”

authors note: i don’t think Ghost talks much when he’s a sub, it’s a very vulnerable place for him, but when he’s dom? that’s another story

Bingo!! It was PMS/Period. I Feel dead.

Ugh…everything that i have ate today has made me so fucking nauseous 🤢

I have not a clue what this is.

I’m on my period and surprisingly, I’m like a feral cat in heat. like i just want to go fuck my self (literally). I have like this raging urge to just FUCK.

I swear to fuckin god if Im starting to get a endo flare up, i’m going to stab myself….My fuckin uterus hurts and I am not mentally stable enough for this bs.