Sometimes it's hard to say even one thing true
When all eyes have turned aside, they used to talk to you
And people on the streets seem to disapprove
So you keep moving away
And forget what you wanted to say
Little bird, little bird
Brush your grey wings on my head
Say what you said, say it again
They tell me I'm crazy, but you told me I'm golden
Sometimes it's hard to tell the truth from a lie
Nobody knows what's in the hold of your mind
We are all buildings and people inside
Never know who will walk through the door
Is it someone that you've met before?
I know what I know
A wind in the trees and a road
That goes winding 'onder
From here I see rain, I hear thunder
Somewhere there's sun
And you don't need a reason
Sometimes it's hard to find a way to keep on
Quiet weekends, holidays, you come undone
Open your window and look upon
All the kinds of alive you can be
Be still, be light, believe me
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!! suggestive-ish; dirty talking n insinuations; simon n his big body <33
"c'mon, sweetheart," simon murmurs, watching you with narrowed eyes. "won't you tell me why you wanna ride me?"
you puff a trembling breath, gaze turned away from him, before replying, "wanna feel you, s'all." you chew on your words, the rumble of your voice is so soft that simon almost missed it.
almost.
he doesn't bother hiding his smirk.
"is that right?" he sounds breathy even to his own ears. "anythin' else?"
he watches as you shake your head, still looking away from him, all shy and docile in your embarrassment. simon almost heaves a saddened sigh, but he sees the way your eyelashes flutter in nervousness, your bottom lip all bitten and nibbled on, and decides to take it easy.
well.
easy on his terms.
"you wanna take me to the hilt, yeah?" simon begins, his voice genuine even with the faint teasing tone. he adjusts the two of you on the sofa, grunting in satisfaction when your eyes flick up to meet his shyly.
"you wanna take control? wanna set the pace and do all the work?" he massages your hips, working his hands to grab fistfuls of your muscle and fat, groaning at the way your skin dimples.
he pulls you close to him, your chest pressing against his own, and simon tries his best not to flick his eyes down just to see the way your tits are all squished up against him. god, even just feeling the softness of them makes his cock stir underneath his jeans.
simon brushes his lips over the shell of your ears, purposeful in their teasing touch. then, "you wanna know how deep i can go in you, huh? wanna take your sweet time – or not, depends."
he lands a smack on your ass, the slap ringing between you two, and simon chuckles at your bit-off squeak. he watches as you tilt your head up to glare at him but simon just grins, teasing and meanly, before pitching forward to press a soft kiss on your forehead.
"no one's stoppin' you, princess." the words are mumbled into your skin and simon revels in the way you breathe in sharply, fingers trembling from where they are fisting his shirt, before groaning in quiet pleasure when he feels you rutting down onto his chub.
yeah. simon's gon' ruin you tonight.
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Soap is chatty, he talks a lot. More than once someone has told him they ‘learned to tune him out’, that they’re able to ignore him because they’re used to his chatter. It hurts, he admits that to himself but no one else. He’s not used to someone fully paying attention to what he’s saying (Gaz) or actually loving hearing him talk even though they’re not fully understanding everything he’s saying (Ghost).
He was talking while working with Price in a meeting room when he realized he had been talking a lot, so he stopped. Then Price looked up and asked him why he stopped.
“What?”
“The party at your cousin’s, with the weird green cake.”
Gaz and Price fully listens while he talks, taking a moment to ask questions or acknowledge when he says something. Ghost half listens and just enjoys hearing Soap talk even when he’s not mentally there, asking questions to keep Soap talking because he loves his voice. It was almost overwhelming having that acceptance and care towards him.
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been thinkin about the polar opposite of bimbo reader for price so i raise yall: ‘weird’ fiancee gf x price <33
you’re into vulture culture and are probably hoping to actually get into taxidermy too. you’re also into crowcore.
you have a cat, but john never knows which one it is because every time he comes back, it’s a different one (it started with a birman and the recent one is a british longhair. for some reason, all these cats answer to the same name – cecil).
john had, one time, walked into your office only to see a horrifying long furby snaking around your computer setup.
you describe colours in hex codes. john admits it’s actually so useful, especially for missions, so he picked up the same habit. ghost and soap absolutely hate him now, but kyle rides his wavelength so he’s unofficially been dubbed as price-translator.
you have different aesthetics, and john adores all. he first met you when you were in your goth era. currently you’re in your cyberpunk era.
…you’re in this RP discord and it’s all about lovecraft monsters. you’re abhoth.
and john? john indulges you. he would be cthulhu in your guys’ chat box if you need to use him as a soundboard to see if your silly little writing is making sense. he gifted you your most extensive toolkit for your interest in bone collecting. he buys you limited editions of furbies — you don’t know where he even gets them but you’re not complaining, of course!!
all he asks is that you marry him. pretty, please?
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Uuuuuuhg I'm sure its obvious but I am so down bad for 8um8le's cyber sun like they had no right to make this man so fine it makes me question everything every time I see him
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