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agentmarvel · 3 days
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silly lil life update under the cut
i know i've been more absent than usual lately, and i've been slacking on writing, but i've been wicked busy.
in the last month, i've been looking for a new job since i hate my boss with the fire of a thousand suns, my husband and i are in the middle of moving, hockey playoffs started, and about three weeks ago, ya boi found out she's pregnant. with my history of miscarriages, we're not telling anyone irl until a minimum of 16 weeks. doesn't mean i can't share it here, tho🖤
hard not to channel all my time and energy into the aforementioned shenanigans, but once things calm down, i'll be back into my routines and more consistent in actually writing.
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agentmarvel · 5 days
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Resources For Writing Sketchy Topics
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Medicine
A Study In Physical Injury
Comas
Medical Facts And Tips For Your Writing Needs
Broken Bones
Burns
Unconsciousness & Head Trauma
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Stab Wounds
Pain & Shock
All About Mechanical Injuries (Injuries Caused By Violence)
Writing Specific Characters
Portraying a kleptomaniac.
Playing a character with cancer.
How to portray a power driven character.
Playing the manipulative character.
Portraying a character with borderline personality disorder.
Playing a character with Orthorexia Nervosa.
Writing a character who lost someone important.
Playing the bullies.
Portraying the drug dealer.
Playing a rebellious character.
How to portray a sociopath.
How to write characters with PTSD.
Playing characters with memory loss.
Playing a pyromaniac.
How to write a mute character.
How to write a character with an OCD.
How to play a stoner.
Playing a character with an eating disorder.
Portraying a character who is anti-social.
Portraying a character who is depressed.
How to portray someone with dyslexia.
How to portray a character with bipolar disorder.
Portraying a character with severe depression.
How to play a serial killer.
Writing insane characters.
Playing a character under the influence of marijuana.
Tips on writing a drug addict.
How to write a character with HPD.
Writing a character with Nymphomania.
Writing a character with schizophrenia.
Writing a character with Dissociative Identity Disorder.
Writing a character with depression.
Writing a character who suffers from night terrors.
Writing a character with paranoid personality disorder.
How to play a victim of rape.
How to play a mentally ill/insane character.
Writing a character who self-harms.
Writing a character who is high on amphetamines.
How to play the stalker.
How to portray a character high on cocaine.
Playing a character with ADHD.
How to play a sexual assault victim.
Writing a compulsive gambler.
Playing a character who is faking a disorder.
Playing a prisoner.
Portraying an emotionally detached character.
How to play a character with social anxiety.
Portraying a character who is high.
Portraying characters who have secrets.
Portraying a recovering alcoholic.
Portraying a sex addict.
How to play someone creepy.
Portraying sexually/emotionally abused characters.
Playing a character under the influence of drugs.
Playing a character who struggles with Bulimia.
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agentmarvel · 13 days
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| RTB - Simon “Ghost” Riley x F!Pilot Reader
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Word Count - 3.4k
Summary - The reader is the pilot, AKA Stitch, of an apache helicopter, one the most dangerous, advanced killers in the sky. She’s been the 141′s go-to when they need aerial support for a year. After their latest mission, Ghost seeks out Stitch to offer a special thank you.
Warnings/Tags - 18+ ONLY, swearing, dry humping, switch, unprotected sex, creampie 
A/N - If you haven't already, I would suggest you read Incident Report before this one
Masterlist  ❤︎
Soot and smoke coated Ghost’s tongue and every breath felt like an attack on his lungs. The smell of burning flesh and gunpowder made his head spin. All that combined with adrenaline and anger, it was his life support. He clung to his senses with a feverish need. Rubble and bullet shells littered the ground around them. His once-black uniform took on a greyish hue from all the dust. Sweat rolled down his back and he had to blink it from his eyes. 
Beside him, Price was on the radio, his outrage tangible as he called for aerial backup for a third time, “I’ve got my men pinned here! Where the fuck is my support!”.   
Ghost felt a bullet's heat as it raced past the exposed skin of his neck, leaving behind the ghost of a burn. He ducked down behind the concrete barrier, cursing at himself, “We won’t be able to hold this position for much longer, Price. We need a plan to get us the fuck out of here,” Simon repositioned himself for a better vantage point. Ghost had long since run out of ammo and had resorted to picking up magazines from his dead comrades. He silently thanked every one of them, ripping off the dog tags from the few he could to take back to base with him. 
Price gave him a curt nod, “Chopper is five minutes out. They were diverted from another mission.” his face was grim and every muscle in his body was taut, readying to run for new cover or the bite of a bullet. Five minutes was a lot of time in situations like this, a lot could happen in a matter of seconds. He could die in half that. 
The team was forced into a corner of the compound, and they were getting hammered.  There was nowhere left to go. He kept one eye on the darkening sky beyond the compound's wall, hoping to catch a glimpse of the incoming heli. He figured the pilots on board would have reached out by now, but the radio remained utterly and eerily silent. 
He craned his neck, hearing the distant sound of its propellors, but with the ruckus around them, it was difficult to determine exactly how far out it was. Something in his soul urged him to bring his radio to his mouth, “We’re in the southwest corner,” he was speaking to the pilots, who were most likely biding their time before revealing their presence to the enemy. If that were the case they were probably dark, using minimal instruments to keep their profile as discreet as possible. 
Then he saw it. The slightly darker patch of sky. 
Then it was firing, and screams followed. 
And just like that, this fight was shifted in their favour. 
Bursts of orange and red as fire erupted from the helicopter's guns in erratic intervals, and in between they would shift positions, making it nearly impossible to predict where they would shoot from next.           
Then a very familiar voice came across the radio, “Hello boys.”
An involuntary smile split across Ghost’s face.
“You’re fashionably late,” Price quipped back. 
“And here I thought you’d be excited to see us,” you replied as you dipped the heli back behind the walls, using it as cover as you moved closer to the closed gates keeping them from their escape, “Should I knock?”
They didn’t bother with a reply before Dutch let loose, blasting open the gates. You could nearly hear his smile, “Ladies first.”  
Being diverted from a different mission meant you didn’t have nearly enough firepower or fuel to do any real damage, but you could do enough so the soldier below would be able to breathe a little and regain their footing.   
You glanced down at your fuel gauge, cursing, “We’ve got five minutes of fuel before we’re RTB. Give me some targets,” You couldn’t stop yourself from searching the ground below in hopes of seeing a familiar figure.
Someone pointed a laser at one of the watchtowers, marking it and the people within as prey. You angled the aircraft, giving Dutch a clear view of the tower. With the help of the last HELLFIRE missile you had, it was desecrated in a matter of seconds. 
The floodlights that were pointed to the outside of the compound turned on, momentarily blinding you. The enemy used the distraction to shoot back at you. Bullets dinged off the sides of the Apache.
“Smoke!” someone called from over the radio.
“Flares,” your muscle memories kicked in, your thumb finding the appropriate buttons as your eyes still had yet to adjust. Somewhere beyond the cockpit, you heard as your flares interrupt your death. You gritted your teeth, you weren’t sure you had the firepower left to fight this fight, but the thought of leaving those guys down there helpless wasn’t one you were willing to have. 
Your attention snagged on the fuel. 
You didn’t have a choice. You were already cutting it close. 
Dutch listed off what he had left to throw at him. The list was devastatingly short.     
“I have one more good run before I have to turn back.” 
Another laser pointed to a truck on the other side of the now blown open door, a mounted machine gun giving suppressant fire to the ground crew. With that truck, even with the gate opened, they weren’t going anywhere. 
“Copy,” Dutch replied, his head already turned and locking in on the target. He unloaded the last of his rounds into the truck and the surrounding area. 
Reluctantly, you pulled back from the fight, “We’re RTB,” again you search for Ghost amongst the group. Finally catching the flash of white of his skull mask. The nerves that gripped your chest loosened, “And as much as I love these play dates with you guys try and stay out of trouble will you?” 
You’d arrived back to base a few hours ago but still had yet to change out of your jumpsuit. You were immediately dragged into a debrief. You checked your watch for what seemed like the hundredth time since this meeting began.
Task Force 141 has yet to return, and you were beginning to ruminate. While in the sky it was easier to ignore your feelings, having to focus on not being struck by an anti-air and falling out of the sky didn’t allow for such mundane activities. Now that you were on the ground, you had all the time and safety in the world to just think. 
You could say that’s why you loved flying so much. You’d never be able to say it out loud under the fear that you’d be grounded for a month under the mental health act; but, you’d sooner die than give up flying. 
Suppressing a yawn you sat next to Dutch in the room, arms crossed and legs stretched out in front of you. Your eyes grew heavy as you blinked up at the screen before you. You leaned closer to Dutch, “You think they’d notice if I just left?” 
A mischievous smile tugged at his mouth, “Not if you crawled.”
You pinched his thigh, scowling, “You’re a pervert.” 
There were probably twenty other people in this room right now. You could undoubtedly sneak out. 
A shiver raced down your spine, and your instinct told you that someone was looking at you. You peeked over your shoulder and locked eyes with the tall ominous figure standing at the back of the room. His hand still hovering over the doorknob. He jerked his chin to the hallway. A silent invitation to join him. 
Dutch was already rolling his eyes in pretend irritation, “You’re boyfriend beckons you.”
You made a face at him, “He’s not my boyfriend.” 
“Tell him that.”
You bit your lip to keep from grinning at the idea. You two were by no means together. Not to say that there wasn’t something there that could potentially foster such as relationship, but now wasn’t the right time. Neither of you had the time or the means for it. It would only compromise both of your work. 
And relationships between two soldiers were frowned upon by the higher-ups.  
You stood up silently, kicking Dutches ankles on your way by.   
Ghost slipped out of the room all too silently. You met him just down the hall.
His eyes dipped to your chest and heated. You removed the top of your jumpsuit and tied it around your waist, revealing the plain black tank underneath that did everything right to show off your curves. 
Then he was looking everywhere but you, his shoulders tensing, before he started to walk down the hallway. You fell into pace beside him. 
You check over him, looking for any signs of injury. Once satisfied that you couldn’t find anything you tilted your face up to his, “You guys should've had an aircraft on standby for that mission,” you reprimanded, half annoyed with him for getting into danger. 
He shrugged, “It was supposed to be covert.”
You analyzed his dark uniform, perfect for blending into the night and the shadows. He didn’t have his gun, and he carried his tactical vest in his hand. 
“You guys were lucky we had enough fuel to divert our route. What if we weren’t there?” you bit out, anger flushing your skin. 
He opened a door for you. The door to his accommodations, you realized. You couldn’t help but notice the space still smelled like you. Or your signature scene of eucalyptus and lavender. You’ve been spending a condemning amount of time here, and with him.  
“Good thing we’re lucky,” he pulled at the words with his tongue before turning back to you, eyes flashing to your figure again. His hands reached down to the know that kept your jumpsuit tied to your waist and tugged you closer to him, his other hand wrapping around the back of your neck. You could still smell the fight on him. Dirt and smoke. A now familiar smell. 
Your fingers hooked around his belt loops. Heat radiated off of him and warmed your front. Already you were breathless. 
He shook his head, “It’s a damn good thing you were there.”
A question formed and you tilted your head at him, lips parting, “How did you know to tell us where you were? How did you know we were already there?” You had made sure your ETA was skewed to disorientate the enemy if they had access to your guys’ comms.  
“I figured there was a reason you guys were dark,” his hand traced the lines of your body, memorizing the feel of you under his fingers. They twitched impatiently against you. He slowly walked you backwards to the door to his bedroom, taking his time in watching you stumble over your weakening knees. “How can I thank you?” 
If he could read your mind and all the filthy thoughts that popped into your mind, he hid it well. Your ears burned in chagrin. You tugged his shirt out from his pants, diving underneath to touch his skin, “Let me touch you.” 
Ghost bit back a hiss when you dug your nails into his abdomen. He kicked the door closed behind him, reaching back only to lock it. Within seconds, his shirt was discarded somewhere on the floor, his muscles on full display as he did so. Your mouth went dry and the sight and the heat that was just at the tips of your ears shot down between your legs. No amount of time would ever tire you of seeing this man undress. 
Next was his mask, revealing the devilishly beautiful man underneath. The only way you could describe him was as “sinful”. Black still smeared across his features but it only accentuated his features.   
Fuck, you would eat out of the palm of his hand if he told you to. 
Whatever he saw on your face made him look away from you with a shy smile, a breath of a laugh escaping him. 
You brought his face back to yours, and you had to stand on your toes to reach his mouth. You’d be a fool to think that the kiss was anything but greedy. His mouth immediately opened to yours and he tilted your head with a hand to deepen it. You pressed yourself into him, needing to feel him against every inch of you. A calloused hand reached to touch the bare skin under your tank and traced the line of your spine. Your tongue brushed against him, and you turned to liquid.   
He undid the knot of your jumpsuit, and you stepped out of it. Leaving you bare apart from the tank top, a bra, and underwear.
This time, it was your turn to guide him. You took him to his bed, “Lay down.”
He didn’t waste a second and pulled you down with him. You were a tangle of limbs before you planted your knees on either side of his hips. With shaking fingers, you shamelessly outlined the lines and curves of his abs and chest.    
Not once did either of you break the kiss, which had become a mess of breath and lips and teeth.
You pressed your hips into his, finding his own arousal there. He groaned at the pressure, hands flying to your waist, and pulling you harder to him. Already a carnal heat that only showed up when you were with him was building somewhere low in your womb. And even lower still.
God, he felt good.   
He was going to be the death of you. You were going to burn up in his arms until there was nothing left of you but your need for him. 
He paused for a second, his hand disappearing under the waistband of his pants to readjust himself to better align with your strides. You tested, feeling the full length of him pressed to your core, “Carry on,” before his smile could take form it fell away to a hiss when you began a languid pace.  
You rolled yourself down on him, your mouth finding the pulse at his throat and licked a stripe it. 
Simon liked to pride himself on his control over his needs. He wasn’t a teenage boy after all. He was a man who was more than capable of asserting some sort of rule over his body. 
Until just now. 
Right then, his entire mind went blank.
He wasn’t sure if he had inhaled too much smoke or if he over-exerted himself today, but that control was nowhere to be seen. His hands fell to your thighs, allowing you full reign on the speed and intensity. 
You felt a knot at the apex of your tights tighten, and the liquid arousal that accompanied your desire. You hadn’t even cum yet and you were already soaking through your panties and his pants.
Your kisses to his skin turn into hot desperate breaths, and it sent tingles throughout his body. Your moans were like fuel to a flame and it was driving him insane.    
You clung to him, his skin slick with yours and his sweat, as you chased after your climax. He let you use him however you needed. Some ludicrous and giddy part of him revelled at the fact that he wasn’t even inside you and you were still half-wild for him. 
Suddenly, your pace stuttered and became erratic. That knot finally loosened and you melted onto him, your body twitching, but you maintained some form of a rhythm.   
You pulled back to look at him, his eyes squeezed shut and his bottom lips pulled between his teeth.   
You felt him jerk under you, pressing himself impossibly closer to you, his mouth falling open into a downright filthy moan. 
You welcomed the wet warmth between him and you that followed. 
You chased after his release with him. 
You also came back down with him, slowing down to a purr on top of him. 
He was breathless, his body jolting with every change of direction.
He would have been a little embarrassed for cumming in his pants if it hadn’t felt so fucking good. 
“So sensitive,” you crooned, drawing a line from his heart to the line of hair that faded into the cover of his pants. At first, you weren’t sure he heard you, but then he was growling and flipping you off him. You were face down on the bad, trapped underneath him, his knees moving to spread your legs apart. 
“Shouldn’ve said that,” he snarled, his voice dangerous. 
He pressed himself into your backside. 
He was still devastatingly hard. 
You whimpered into his bed, arching your back.
A hand slapped your clothes pussy and you mewled at him in understanding. 
Do. Not. Move.
Then the fingers of the same hand outlined your folds over the already damp fabric, focusing on your clit. With his weight on top of you giving your lungs little room to expand and the fact that your brain was short-circuiting your breaths become shallow and unproductive.
He pressed his fingers into your cunt, the only thing keeping him from actually entering you was your panties. 
You writhed, desperate for friction. A second slap against your heat stilled you. 
“Ohmygod,” you breathed, your legs trembling.
He pushed the cursed fabric down your legs, stopping at your knees. His fingers delved into the slickness there. He swore, almost impressed with how wet you actually were. 
Spread your arousal everywhere, across your folds, the sides of your thighs, up to the rounds of your ass. He wanted you a mess in his bed. And you were. You weren’t sure if you were drooling or not, but there was a high chance you were. 
Then his attention was back at your core, finger sliding into you without so much as a warning. Your greedy pussy tightened around his fingers, milking them as if they were his cock. His approving groan was nearly enough to send you over the edge. He was whispering naughty, impish things into your ear. Your name rolled off his tongue in a way that made to want to scream.  
Still sensitive from before, it didn’t take much from him to entice another orgasm from you. Time wrapped but it couldn’t have been less than a minute before you were spasming around his fingers, and your mind was momentarily fried. 
He was whispering in your ear. Your comprehension went out the window so didn’t know what he was saying but from the tone of his voice, he was mocking you. 
You felt him shift so he was behind you. He attempted to knock your legs further apart but your panties were still locked around your knees, tying them together. 
You felt something warm and velvety soft tap at your entrance. Once, twice. He slid his cock between his fld, coating himself in you. 
He asked you a question, probably for permission. The thought that you could string together a coherent sentence right now was laughable. You weren’t even sure you could be trusted to provide your own name. 
You could only nod and with your last dregs of will, lift your hips to his.     
There was no amount the sex or foreplay that could prepare you for the sheer fucking size of him. He wasn’t just long, not that his eight inches was something to roll your eyes at, but he was thick. Thick enough that when you took him into your mouth, your jaw would ache for days afterward. He was always gentle and never shoved himself inside you like an animal, but you still needed a few seconds to catch your breath each time.  
The broken sound that same out of you was naughty, and Simon had to bite his lip to keep from cumming from the sound alone. You were also impossibly tight, but he’d be damned if he got bested by you a second time tonight. 
He cruised into a fast pace, and your eyes rolled into the back of your head. The tip of his dick hit your cervix with every thrust. And with every retreat, he brushed against your g spot.  
In these moments, there was only him. Only the sounds of his breath, and the feel of his skin. It made him addicting. When with him, especially like this, it was like a moment of reprieve from worries and stresses in life. 
The world could be ending and you wouldn’t care. There could be air raids and a fire outside your door and you would still feel completely safe with him. Death and hurt couldn’t reach you when you were in his arms.  
His rhythm faltered when you squeezed around him, and he cursed, his arms moved from your ass to brace around you. He just arms shook to keep from crushing you.  
He could feel you quivering, both around him and beneath him as your third orgasm approached. 
You were going to be the death of him, and he didn’t mind one bit. 
You writhed under him as you reached your undoeing, unsure if you wanted him further in or out of you.  
You could feel his seed spurt out of him, and coat your inner walls. You could feel his cock twitch with every spray. 
He started to slow, letting you reel yourself back into your body. You were spooled out across his bed, onto the floor, floating in the air. 
He slid off the bed, carefully tucking himself back into his pants. Which, only now did you realize he didn’t have the patient to remove. He was all wandering eyes and a rueful grin. He was slightly out of breath when he spoke, “So sensitive.” 
A/N: You like that?
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agentmarvel · 16 days
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Sergeant Garrick
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agentmarvel · 16 days
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John Price
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agentmarvel · 16 days
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no thoughts just Price and his big-
MW3 gifs 10/?
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agentmarvel · 16 days
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Alejandro Vargas // CODMWII
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agentmarvel · 16 days
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Valeria Garza // CODMWII
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agentmarvel · 16 days
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Price had a young girlfriend and did not tell anybody until he decided to get married...
He probably didn't tell them until the night before the wedding…He asked them to come over for a little celebration and everyone expected a middle-aged woman. But when they saw a girl in her mid-20s opening the door with Price they were shocked
Soap probably even asked if she's his stepdaughter LOL
Hey, love!! 💗💗
I wrote you a little something...
I hope you like it 💗
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❤️Mr. & Mrs. Price❤️
Masterlist
They were having a pint at a pub close to base when he told them. 
“I'm getting married next Saturday, you have the weekend free, so drop by so I can introduce you to the missus.”
Now, Ghost wasn't surprised he didn't know about his captain having a girlfriend, let alone a relationship serious enough to talk about marriage. What surprised Ghost was that neither Soap nor Gaz knew about it. 
“Married?!” Gaz asked, loud enough to make some people turn their heads. 
Price furrows his eyebrow, surprised by the reaction as if he had just told them about what he's having from breakfast. 
“I didnae ken ye had a pretty bird waiting for ye at home, Captain!” Soap says, just as loud.
“Yeah, I have for a couple of years now.” Price simply answers, shrugging his shoulders as he takes a sip.
“A couple of years?!” The three men ask in unison like a bad comedic joke. 
A chain of questions starts to unravel, curiosity for the mysterious woman pouring out; but Price waves his hand shutting them up. “No point in that, you are meeting her this weekend, easier that way”
They begrudgingly agree, keeping to themselves the mental image of the possible woman. She must be around Price's age, so between 40 and 50 years old; knowing how little the man likes to go out they probably met at work so she must be military too. Stern woman. 
Price tells them that is something minor, the close family and a bunch of friends; that they can join at the reception at his house and to dress nicely. 
“No ghost mask.” He chastises the man pointing at him. “I don't want work involved, alright?”
During the week until the wedding, they keep thinking about her, about how she must look like, her personality, her age, her eye colour.
“What do you think she'll look like?”
“In my mind, she's like Laswell… but being into men.”
And out of every possibility and different mental image, the last thing they expected was the pretty thing that opened the door for them on Saturday. 
Pretty little thing, around 25 years old, with the kindest smile on her face even when looking at the three giants on her doorframe, flowy white dress, little hair strands framing her cute face with the rest of it gathered up in an intricate updo in the back hold together with shiny pins and a silky bow. 
“Oh, you must be John's friends.” You say, voice sweet as an angel. “Please, come in, don't just stand there. I'm gonna go get him, be back in a second”
You step back, holding the door open for them, inviting them in and once inside you close the door, walking past them to reach their captain who is looking in the opposite direction, talking to somebody else.
“That must be the stepdaughter… right?” Soap asks what all of them are thinking. 
They stare as you walk up to Price, placing your hand on his lower back making him turn to look at you; a wide smile appearing immediately. He leans forward, his arm moving behind your shoulder and his hand keeping your jaw in place as he kisses you. 
Lips crashing against yours, closing his eyes and letting his tongue into your mouth tasting the champagne you were drinking just a moment ago. A passionate, sloppy kiss that would make a maiden blush at the impropriety of it even for the newlyweds.
“Mate, I sure fucking hope she's not.” Gaz answers after a moment.
The two of you finally pull back, telling Price about his friends arriving and he looks behind you to see them. He smiles, not as wide as when he looked at you, and gives you a quick peck before walking to the door. 
“Welcome, lads. Thank you for coming.” He says simply, crossing his arms and looking proud. You appear from behind him, hand resting on his arm slightly leaning to his side.
“Do you want anything to drink? To eat?” You ask softly, love pouring out of Price's eyes as he looks down on you. 
“I'll help you.” Ghost says, a curl of his lips you could identify as a smile if you wanted to. And once the captain is left with the sergeants, the attack starts. 
“How does an old churl like you manages to get a pretty thing like her?”
“Where do you even meet a doll like her?”
“How many years have you exactly been dating for?”
Ghost clears his throat when he turns around the corner on his way back, with you chirping on his side about how happy you are to finally meet them. He has a more natural smile on his face now, clearly infected with your enthusiasm. 
Price finally introduces you to them, exchanging everyone's name. You hug both the sergeants and shake Ghost's hand, the man glad that you made the observation of his lack of appreciation towards body contact. 
After a little chat, you excuse yourself; promising to get back in a while wanting to talk to your own friends still waiting around the room. It leaves Price on his own and that's when he tells the nosy men how he met you. 
You were his neighbour, sharing half the walls of the old flat he house to live in before moving in together. How he introduced himself to you one day when he saw you leaving your house, how he told you he was military so you wouldn't freak out if you saw him in the middle of the night or suddenly disappeared for months, how after a specially long deployment he got back and you dropped by hours later with a bunch of tupperwares with homemade food “I assumed you would be tired, it's nothing special but I'll save you the hustle of cooking”, about how he had wanted to marry you ever since, how he gave you the tupperwares back one by one so he had more reasons to talk to you, how he finally asked you out with the last one and how after that it all was easy between you two.
The four of them swiftly move to sit down on the kitchen table, Price still telling them everything about you and the relationship. Ghost is just as invested as the other two, trying to play it off as polite interest. Slowly and smoothly people leave the house as the day goes by, the sun having set a couple of hours ago; and you walk into the kitchen, sitting on Price's lap with a sigh. 
“I know it isn't proper of a good host, but these shoes are killing me.” You announce looking at the three men as you bend down and take them off, a sigh of comfort leaving your mouth as you lean back on Price. “I'm also sure you have endurance worse than some stinky feet.” You joke with a tiny chuckle making them smile. 
“Everyone gone, darling?” Price asks, his hands resting on your lap as you nod smiling. He looks up to the boys as he says. “Better to tidy up then”
“Jonathan Price, don't be rude!” You exclaim looking at him. “They are your friends and there are more than enough rooms for them if they want to spend the night. They have been drinking too!”
“Mrs. Price.” John says with a teasing tone, standing up and helping you stand. “Talk to me for a second, love.”
Price bends down to pick your shoes up, holding your hand to walk you to the living room. They hear the two of you whispering back and forth, then silence and lastly the unmistakable sound of kisses. They peak behind the door, managing to see you sitting in the backrest of the sofa with Price standing between your legs, grinding his hips against yours. You moan softly against his lips, before pulling back and whispering something they can't make out; Price pulls back as well and they sit back on their chairs. 
Price walks in just a second later. “Lads… thank you for coming, I'll see you when I'm back from the honeymoon, now… OUT!” He barks the last word making Soap chuckle as they all finish their drink in a gulp and start to walk out of the house, congratulating Price on the marriage and walking out one by one; meanwhile, you remain completely out of sight for them.
“They gone?” You ask for the top of the stairs, looking at Price with a smile. 
“Yep.” Price says locking the door.
“You didn't have to kick them out like that, though.” You say cocking your head with a smile.
“Oh, yes, I did.” He says, turning around to start to walk up the stairs. 
“Why? Afraid they might join?” You say winking at him, making him laugh before he throws you over his shoulder making you shriek.
“Wouldn't you like that, you little minx!” He jokes, landing a smack on your asscheek. 
You gasp dramatically holding onto his clothes. “It's Mrs. Price to you, young man.”
He chuckles, making your body shake, before he throws you down on the bed; him instantly crawling on top of you. 
“Who's your husband, darling?”
“You, Mr. Price.”
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agentmarvel · 16 days
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John "Soap" MacTavish // CODMWIII
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agentmarvel · 16 days
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Perfect shot, Lt.
You called it, Sargeant.
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agentmarvel · 17 days
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bonus smile:
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agentmarvel · 17 days
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-> repost from my old blog cause i’ve been DILF crazy lately.
DILF!SIMON ???
truly an old, grumpy bastard. kidding. he’s a dilf without even being a dilf— which is so fucking frustrating because it forces you to imagine actually having his kids and watching him walk around with a chunky baby to bounce on his big, ink covered arm. he always tells you that all you have to do is say the word, and he’d be happy to oblige. to give you a happy baby and make up the warm, bubbly home he never had growing up. he’d put a pretty ring on your finger, too. everything and anything despite your age gap.
and god… is he making sure you fall right into his trap. he’s even at it early in the morning, lounging in the living room with nothing but his briefs on, thick thighs spread and just waiting for you to sit your soft warmth right on top of them. above the elastic waistband digging into his carved hips are those solid abs that reside under the bit of pudge he does have. your eyes trail all the way up, to his beefed up pecs and bulky scarred biceps, while he reads the morning paper and has a mug of tea without a care in the world.
“simon,” you don’t mean to say his name, honestly. it slips out with ease as it tends to, because you cant seem to wrap your head around how this metaphorical and literal mountain of a man is yours. it escapes you on instinct as your feet carry you to him, shuffling in your slippers until your knees bump into his own.
you’re falling into his lap with a kind of desperation that is so familiar to him. he knows— he always does. so a calloused hand squeezes your thigh while you press yourself into him and already begin placing kisses along the underside of his stubbly jaw. his adam’s apple bobs as he speaks.
“ready t’ take me up on that offer?”
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agentmarvel · 17 days
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👑
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agentmarvel · 17 days
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König
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agentmarvel · 17 days
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Call of Duty: Modern Warfare III (2023) | Physical touch
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agentmarvel · 20 days
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reblog to fucking bite the person you reblog from
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