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Gaz has personal beef with delivery man because, for some unknown reason, they always give him your packages.

You, his neighbor, who's two houses down with a clearly marked mailbox.

Or...he used to have beef with the mailman, until he knocked on your door one day instead of leaving the mail on your porch. The prettiest damn thing he's ever seen. Warm in your pajamas, clearly only having woke up a bit ago.

You blinked so sweet at him before asking "uhm? Can I help you, sir?"

Gaz spent...far too long fantasizing about you. About that lovely smile, how soft and gentle you are in every movement. Sometimes he'll spot you watering your garden and somehow you make those grass stained overalls look adorable.

The next time he incorrectly receives your mail, his entire face burns hotter than fire.

He opts to leave it on the porch this time.

Meanwhile, you have the mortifying experience of opening your door wondering where that handsome neighbor is only to find your bad dragon order was not shipped with discreet packaging.

The next time gaz sees you, he can hardly get a word out. Mind conjuring up images of that giant, knotted monster toy and trying to compare it to the sweet thing that moves worms off the pavement.

Oh he is so obsessed and so fucked.

Ghosts side of [Irish setter!reader getting sick] when you collapse during sparring...

From the moment price gave ghost your file, he knew you'd be good. An Irish setter, you'd blend well with soap and gaz, border collie and belgian malinois respectively.

For a while, it's good.

You do damn good work on the field, tracking targets and flushing rooms easily. Ghost knows canine hybrids have a tendency to bond almost instinctual, but he's never truly seen it until you and the sergeants work together. Bodies moving almost as one hivemind, knowing eachothers actions and routes with nothing more than a bark.

Ghost also knows irish setters are social hybrids. He knew the team wasn't socially affectionate given how much soap joked about it, but he never thought it caused you much trouble.

Not until you started pushing yourself.

Ghost saw it, of course he did. It's his job to notice things like that.

He would be stretching on the field while you ran laps around base in the early morning. He'd come out from his shower to see you still working in the gym. So what if you push yourself? It's not his problem until it interferes with a mission.

If only ghost has stepped in when he noticed.

Then he wouldn't be stood in front of an obviously sickly soldier while you struggled to get into stance. Ever since you walked through the gym doors, the team has been glancing at eachother. You sway with each step, sweat from just walking to the mats. Price has to say your name twice before you respond. Ghost is sure gaz and soap can smell the sickness on you.

It seems they all come to a silent agreement.

Whenever it's your turn to spar, ghost is overly gentle. He hardly punches, and allows most of your weak hits to land. Price skips your name half the time and you hardly notice.

Still, no one says anything.

Not until you're standing and weakly pushing ghost back onto the mats, insisting on on last round. "Runt, maybe you should rest–" ghost os trying to say, but you just settle into stance–

And sway, heavy, harsh. You collapse like you've been shot, and it makes ghosts heart thunder when he jumps to catch you.

His hand barely lands under you, swearing "fuck! Sergeant, you awake?"

Gaz kneels next to you, fingers finding your pulse and lips pressing into a thin line when he can barely feel it.

Without hesitation, ghost is scooping you up to take to medical, gaz and soap right on his heels, whining lowly.

Price swears, pissed, follows last.

Can’t stop thinking about Simon Riley who doesn’t know what the hell to do with himself when you leave for a week for your friends' bachelorette trip.

He’s used to being away from you. It’s his job. So, he tells you not to worry when you kiss him goodbye on your tippy toes, four days is nothing compared to the months he’s been away.

He grossly underestimated how different it’d be when you were the one gone.

The first day he’s fine, does mundane tasks around the house to distract himself. Mows the lawn, fixes that part of the fence you’ve been asking him too for weeks.

The second, he goes to the pub with Johnny, drinks one too many beers to fill a sudden void, and stumbles home to a terribly empty and cold bed.

The third day feels heavy, like there’s a mass weighing on his chest and making it hard to focus on anything other than you. The phone call he makes isn’t any better.

“Miss you.”

He says it first, quiet and uncertain. The giggle that follows makes his heart tighten.

“Miss you too, Si.”

You whisper it, so soft, and so fucking sweet he wonders how he ever left you to begin with. Hearing your voice should settle him, but it only makes his chest heavier. You should be there with him, sat in his lap, and pressing those words into his skin.

Day four he’s staring at pictures of you in his wallet and brushing his thumb over your face like he’s on deployment. Like it’s been months since he’s seen you and not four bloody days.

He doesn’t sleep that night when all he tastes is guilt. When this is how you must feel when he’s gone. A bed too big for one person, one pair of shoes at the door when there should be two, indents in the couch that aren’t filled.

It’s the first time he genuinely considers leaving the SAS.

Hiii why does this have 12k notes

ꜱɪᴍᴏɴ ʀɪʟᴇʏ | ꜱᴇx ᴘᴏʟʟᴇɴ (ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀ ᴛᴡɪꜱᴛ) | .✦ ݁˖

Your stomach plummeted at Johns phone call, your brain running through everything Simon told you to do if anything were to happen to him.

"What do you mean he's been compromised?! John I am his wife. I need to know what happened and why his team didn't stop him from being hurt!" You shouted as you broke one too many traffic laws that Simon would've scolded you for.

"Simon went solo without telling us!" John snapped, sighing deeply. "I'm sorry love, it doesn't seem overly dangerous. Just...complicated."

The fuck was complicated supposed to mean?

The minute you stepped into the medical wing on base, you saw your husband sat up in a gurney.

"For fucks sake John, I was half expecting to have to identify his body!" You huff, stalking over and pressing worried kisses against Simons cheek and jaw, smoothing a hand over his hair.

You frown when your affections are met with a low moan, your husband giving you a needy and pouty expression.

"Right, well," John says, scratching the back of his neck anxiously. "Simon was hit with a pollen, the medics are calling it an aphrodisiac of sorts. Garrick and MacTavish are getting more info on site."

Simon pawed at your thighs and hips, meaty hands clammy and desperate.

"So what?" You ask in confusion, John staring at how Simon lifted your shirt and licked at the skin of your stomach with a moan. "He's just...horny?"

"That's the conclusion." John murmured, watching how you barely react to Simons desperation. "The drug has been in his system for over an hour now, this is apparently the height of it."

"Really?" You ask, surprise lacing your words as you run your fingers through Simons hair, his hips bucking up as he sucks a dark mark into your stomach. Licking and biting the skin. "This is it?"

"Um," John murmured, thick brows furrowing. "Is this...normal for him?"

"God no," You scoff "He's usually so much worse. Especially when he gets home from a month long Op."

John stares, eyes flickering over you and Simon. Taking in how Simon was humping the air and grabbing at your hands to pull them to his throbbing tent.

"C'mon dove, just-God fuck. Kick the bast-bastard out and lemme cum." Simon whines, pulling at the zipper of your jeans. "Or-fuck, let him stay. I don't care. Long as I get to be inside you."

John was beet red now, turning on his heel and stalking out. Muttering something under his breath.

"Did you have to do that in front of your superior?" You scoff, climbing onto Simons lap. Your eyes flickering with mirth as he stiffens under you and releases a guttural groan. "And did you seriously just cream your pants?"

Simon grumbled, avoiding eye contact. "It won't even get soft after I've came." he growls, flipping you underneath him.

⛧°. ⋆𓌹♰𓌺⋆. °⛧

hey...I just thought this was so funny. And if you saw my last post about my dog passing away—we picked an urn! It's very pretty and he'll be able to sit on my bedside table.

Buy my cat a treat? (•˕ •マ.ᐟ

brendon park x plus size reader

authors note: U CAN’T GET RID OF ME!!!!

Dennis loves a smaller dick. Not that he'd complain he would take anything he could get, but there was something about a good 4 inches that made him shiver. Really he'd enjoy anything up to 6 inches. Sex always felt better with a manageable dick size in his pussy and someone who knew how to use it. That could be why he hasn't had sex with his boyfriends yet. Robby and jack were great, perfect really, but they were big guys. Robby was generally big in general. Tall, big belly and thighs. Jack was incredibly in shape almost overwhelmingly so. Bulging arms and body basically one big sexy square. All this to say they had to be packing.

After date 8 the two decided to bring up the lack of any sexual activity. Cuddled up on the couch dennis in the middle back leaning against jacks chest, Michaels legs over his own. "Why haven't we fucked yet?" The words came out as a word vomit. Jacks face flushing bright red the second they escaped him. Two pairs of eyes now on him as the tension in the room thickened.

"pardon?" Dennis stuttered out half coughing in shock. Not that he hadn't expected this to come up eventually, just not now. Doctor who playing quietly on the screen and cuddled up to his boyfriends.

"you push us off whenever we try to initiate." Word soft and careful Robby rubbing a thumb against his thigh as he spoke. This is probably where Dennis should have lied, made up some lie about not being ready. Instead he found himself blushing bright red and stuttering over his words.

"I don't like big cocks." Face bright red and flushed. Well until he heard a barked out laugh escape Jack. "what?" he snapped out tone harsh and embarrassed.

"Puppy we don't have big dicks, Mikey's 3 inches and i'm like 5." Words were muffled through giggles. Dennis sat between them stunned. Almost frozen as he processed the new information. "Do you wanna see?" Jack teased watching the boy snap out of his statue like state to nod eagerly.

Jack must have a girlfriend.

That was the current rumor spreading through the staff, which Dr. Abbot did nothing to dissuade people from thinking.

The first piece of evidence was his new meals, packed in cute bento boxes with little notes stuck to them. He didn't let anyone read them, but everyone could see the little quirk in his lips when he read them. He was more relaxed. That was the only way everyone could describe it.

The second piece of evidence was that Robby seemed to be annoyed whenever someone brought it up. While it wasn't official, meaning neither one of the repressed men would say it, everyone knew they were dating. Lingering touches and looks, small inside jokes that bloomed because the two men finally moved in together.

Everyone knew it wasn't Robby doing it. It wasn't his way of displaying affection, but that only made everything even more confusing.

Especially when he started showing up with the same lunchboxes and the same colored sticky notes.

"Do you really think there's a third?" Trinity whispers to Dennis, eyebrows raised as they watch the two doctors.

"No way... a third?" Dennis almost denies it until he thinks it over again. "Well... They might be into that kind of thing." He drops his voice lower than hers, realizing she could he onto something.

i was trying to figure out how animation works and made this lil domestic hucklerobby moment

(i'm never doing that again btw, i literally DIED)

sammy looooooves a slow makeout. sitting in his lap with your arms over his shoulders, deep breaths and happy sighs from both of you.

sammy, ever the ass-man, has his big palms spread across your comfy sweatpants, squeezing and feeling you through them. his tongue glides through yours, a soft, wet comfort and balm to the little nips on your bottom lip.

he’s leaving for work in 6 minutes, but he just needs “his daily lovin’” as he affectionately calls it. leaning his head back as a silent request for you to suck on his neck, closing his eyes and rasping “don’t wanna go. wanna be with you.”

it’s routine and you love it. “gotta go baby, i’ll be here when you’re home, kay?” running your fingers through his auburn hair and massaging the nape of his neck with squeezes of your palm.

relcutantly, like always, sammy nods and pulls you in for a tight bear hug– tucking his head into your neck with puffy cheeks. a muffled “love you” from him as you sync your breathing and relax before he goes <3

he hugs you to his chest like a kid with a teddy bear💔💔💔

zuko bringing his tiny baby to council meetings, cradling her carefully in the crook of his arm like she’s the most precious treasure in the fire nation.

she keeps cooing and gurgling happily the whole time, little hands waving in the air. every few minutes she gets louder and zuko gently pats her round belly with two fingers, leaning down to murmur in the softest voice, “not now, my little valley dove… daddy’s trying to work.”

the baby just kicks her chubby legs harder and lets out the cutest squeal, completely unbothered.

and the entire council?

they’re absolutely melting. grown generals and advisors who usually look stern and serious are now fighting back smiles, exchanging soft glances, completely enchanted by their fire lord and his happy little daughter.

zuko keeps trying to stay composed and regal, but the tiny smile that keeps tugging at his lips gives him away completely.

Simon with pregnant!Reader

Pregnant!Reader rummaging through Simons and yours freezer trying to find the ice cream you're craving.

You don't find it which is why you start crying sitting on the floor in front of the freezer.

Simon at that time waking up from reader not being in bed and searching for you. He finds you pretty fast because you've been craving ice cream all the time since the start of the pregnancy.

Reader is still crying over the non existing ice cream in your guys freezer.

Simon already knowing what the problem is before he asks reader.

"Hey, luvie. What's wrong?" he crouches in front of pregnant!reader cupping your face in his hands.

"Si, my ice cream." you sniffle and he tries really hard to keep a straight face because he knows you will think he's making fun of you and your little emotional outburst.

"You want me to get you some more?" Simon offers caressing your cheeks with his thumbs.

"Oh Si, you would do that for me?" immediately more tears run over your face when your emotions are getting the better of you.

"Luvie, I'd do anything for you" he kisses your forehead and smiles down at you. "You wanna join me?"

You nod and now you two get ready to head to the shop.

--------------

You two get to the shop and are standing in front of the ice cream section, where Simon is letting you choose your favourite.

"Look they have cookies and cream" Simon raises a cup of cookies and cream ice cream. Your eyes immediately light up at the sight of the ice cream container.

"Please, can I have one?" you look at Simon with puppy dog eyes even though you know Simon thinks its impossible to say no to anything you ask of him.

"Of course." Simon gives you the container and lets you wander off shortly because he's getting another one.

On your short trip you also get another stuffy and fluffy blanket because - again - Simon never says no to you.

---------------

You notice the second container first when you get home and you immediately start crying.

"Si, you now I can't eat two ice cream container." tears are running down your cheeks.

"Luvie, hey hey. Its okay. I can eat it, you don't have too." he takes you into his arms trying to reassure you.

"You're going to eat my ice cream?!" more tears and snot are running down your face.

Oh god, Simon really has to think about what he's saying and how you will conceive his words.

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Taglist

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Masterlist

huckleabbot

Whenever Dennis gets overwhelmed on shift, he'll seek out Jack and slither his arms around his boyfriend's waist from behind and squeeze, using him like a stress ball.

Dennis doesn't give a damn if Jack is talking to a patient, looking over a chart, or in line for the vending machine—all he has to do is initiate the hug, whether that's through kneading at Jack's belly like a content kitten, or slipping a hand underneath his scrubs and methodically tracing the coarseness of his happy trail, and he's suddenly being pulled by his hair and smacked on the ass.

Jack sure gets a kick out of it when Robby is there to witness it happen accidentally as he backs away awkwardly with a furious blush.

Simon’s giving the dog his last walk of the evening. He’s on the last third of a cigarette when the dog stops to sniff around the trunk of a tree.

He exhales into the sky then glances down the gap between the houses, and the sightline runs clear across two dark gardens, straight to the back of his house — the kitchen window, blinds up, overhead lights blazing, and you crossing the kitchen right in front of it—

completely nude.

Five seconds, maybe, and you’re gone from the frame, but he’s already doing the recon — the angle of the gap, height of the fence, the pub that turns out people all night — and the information is saying that every pissed bloke stumbling home gets the full exhibition, compliments of his wife.

He sucks down the last of his cigarette as he picks up the pace home, the dog jogging alongside him. He flicks the butt into the street and turns down the path. The back door bangs behind him. You’re still at the counter, and you’re still naked, spooning peanut butter out of the jar. You smile up at him and the dog runs down the hall with the leash dragging.

“Good walk?”

“The blinds,” he points at the window.

“What about them?”

“They’re open.”

You look at the window and furrow your brows. “It’s dark out.”

“It’s dark out there.” He crosses the kitchen and yanks the cord, the slats fall down with a clatter. “I saw ya from the road. If I can see ya, so can every sod stumblin’ home from The Fox.”

“You saw me from the road?”

“Yes!” He points back with his thumb through the wall, in the vague direction of the gap.

“Huh,” you shrug. You dig the spoon back into the jar, unalarmed. “That’s actually kinda impressive.”

He sighs, raking a hand through his hair. “There’s a pub at the end of that road, love,” he reiterates.

You lick the spoon clean and talk around the mouthful. “Simon, I really don’t care. It’s hot, nothing fits me anymore, and your son sat on my bladder all damn day.” You gesture at yourself with the spoon — the growing swell of your belly. “Did I mention nothing fits me?”

His eyes drop to your stomach and the scolding dies, the way it always does these days.

“Nothin’ fits?”

“Nothing.”

“You’ve got my shirts.”

“Your shirts fit you.” You let him pull you in, his hand finding the curve of belly, splaying across the side. “We outgrew them weeks ago.”

He’s quite a second, thumb rubbing over the spot the baby kicked this morning. “New rule. Clothes off means blinds down.”

“And if I break it?” you tease.

“You won’t,” he grumbles. “And I’m buyin’ bigger shirts.”

You know what would be like infinitely funnier than the Whitaker family being a bunch of religious freaks? If all of the Whitaker men were equally as submissive and breedable as Dennis.

Every single male in that family submits to a matriarchy and they wouldn’t have it any other way. Their wives or partners can make one face and they’re tripping over themselves trying to fix the problem. It’s more of a “We have to hide this from your mother or I’m in massive trouble” than a “don’t tell your mom because she can’t handle it.”

Maybe Trinity or Rabbot or whatever combo you want goes with him to Nebraska fully expecting his family to be absolute assholes. Turns out Dennis’s brothers bully him because him leaving for college made their mom sad and they can’t have that. They all have that same wet, sad eye thing going on. Polite and well meaning but their spines stiffen when their wives are around and don’t ever say no or complain.

Trinity is treated with the upmost respect and receive offers to set her up with the nice girl down the road (I think she’s-Dennis, is it bi or pan? I can’t remember) (Trinity, she makes the best apple pie but please please don’t tell my wife I said that). Dennis’s partners expect a dad cleaning his gun on the front porch but instead it’s Dennis’s mother using a knife to wave them inside. She’s so lovely and sweet but she does not hesitate to correct any of her boys, future in laws included.

Now imagine post tbi!soap who's determined to walk his baby sister down the aisle...

When he first woke up after...everything...the doctors told him he'd probably never walk perfectly, but decent recovery was possible. At the time, all soap heard was "the military has no more use for you. Pack your bags, soldier."

Takeout and the eight feet between his couch and the door to his apartment became soaps new world. Did you know you can get alcohol delivered right to your door? All soap has to do is sign. Still getting around in that shitty wheelchair provided by the hospital.

Then he gets the call from you.

You, his baby sister he hasn't seen in years. Who he thought he lost after dad kicked you both out, didn't want an abomination like the pair of you under his roof. You call, and your voice is so much softer than those beginning years, "johnny! I'm getting married!"

You ask him to walk you down the aisle, unaware of his situation. Soap says yes.

He works his ass off, but the progress is slow. His physical therapist says this would have been easier had he started earlier, that most of his muscle mass is gone. Every break between sessions, soap calls for an update from you. Trying to catch up on misspent years. Every "I'm so much happier now, I wish you were here." Makes him feel stronger. Every "he's lovely, johnny. You'll think he's funny. Makes me feel like a proper lady." Has him pushing through the next painful exercise.

And the thing is, soap wants nothing more than to walk you down the aisle properly. He thought he wanted the military, thought he wanted the guns and violence and the feeling of being right. But more than any of that he wants to be there for his sister.

The doctor tells him it won't happen.

Soap flies out to you a month before the wedding. He meets you for the first time in years, your brother of flesh and blood, using a walker.

Soap expects rejection, hate, or at least dissapointment. He tells you this is the best he'll ever get, that the man you want walking you down the isle will be slow and unstable the whole time.

You look soap dead in the eyes, nose scrunched in anger, "you asshole!" You grab his jaw, force him to look at you properly "you did not risk your life for me everyday just so I could reject you! You're walking me, end of fuckin' discussion."

Soap has never known his sister to not get what she wanted.

He walks you down the aisle, walker and all. It's beautiful. The wedding is amazing. You chose good people to surround yourself with, because not one person makes soap feel ashamed that night. All he feels is joy.

The military saw no use for a man like him, but his family laughs at the absurdity of ever letting him go.

Fic where noah wyle is using a bunch of hair growth products on his chest in preparation for a shirtless scene as robby

Gerran can’t stop squirming. He didn’t even know he was into this, but fuck, evidently he is. It can’t be his fault, though. It was every nasty fanart in the secret folder of his phone come to life. Noah looked so soft and warm, and all Gerran could think about is how good it would feel to rut against, or pressed against his forehead as he kept the older man warm in his mouth.

“Uhh, yeah, it looks great. Gonna be great.” He stuttered out, not able to look his boss in the eye. Noah’s fully aware of what he’s doing, knows the reason behind the boy’s blush, but the way he’s acting completely oblivious is a true testament to his acting ability. He nods in thanks, before putting on a faux concerned face.

“You okay, kid? You’re getting really red.” Of course, that only makes it worse. But Gerran quickly nods, mumbling that he’s totally fine, he’s just not used to the LA heat. They both know it’s bullshit. Noah grins, stretching a bit and pretending not to hear the whimper that comes from the blond.

Gerran was going to absolutely pass out. All he could think about was the porn on his laptop of a huge bear jerking off, calling him such a good boy for Daddy. He has to get out of here before Noah notices that his dick is harder than it’s probably ever been ever. He makes a quick excuse, practically running for the door, but the older man’s arm shoots out, grabbing his wrist. His eyes widen, and he looks over.

Noah’s gaze is fixed on Gerran’s dick. Oh, shit. He’s so done for. To his shock, Noah’s grin turns shark-like.

“Poor thing, you need some help?” Genuinely what the fuck is happening. He must be dreaming. He stares at Noah, jaw on the floor, face redder than a tomato. One of his big hands comes up to cup his face, tilting his head up. “Asked you a question, baby. I need an answer.”

Gerran whimpers, nodding. “Words, Gerran.”

“I- I need help.” He whispers, his cock twitching. He loved the way that he was being talked down to, the way he was being treated like a stupid, helpless little boy. He had jerked off to a fantasy exactly like this countless times.

“Good boy. You looked so sweet, squirming for me. Does my body turn you on that much?” He’s died and gone to a heaven he does not deserve. That’s the only explanation for this.

The younger nods, which makes Noah’s grip on his face tighten. It’s a warning, almost a punishment, and it makes the blond moan softly. He remembers too late that he was supposed to use his words.

“Yes, Daddy.” He whispers.