Commission for @sleeplessdreamer14! Thank you so much for the fun project! :)) <3

I Love. Every. Single. Thing. About This.

Thank you so much!! (sends hugs) You really made this birthday special 🥳💕

i honestly don't understand why some people hate pitbulls. they're just smiling beams of pure happiness.

simon riley’s girlfriend with anxiety, so horrible and terrible it sends her spiralling, even on good days. simon riley’s girlfriend and she just wants to bury herself in bed all day, the winter is too cold for her and her head hurts from all the overthinking. simon riley’s girlfriend, and he wants to do everything he can to make her feel better.

he sits next to you the entire time, maybe with a book in his hands, those frameless reading glasses on that you say are too small for his face, with a big hand rubbing your back as you just hide in bed.

you hate the cold, and you’re buried under a duvet, and you love your boyfriends warmth as it seeps into you. 

“sorry si,” you say, sleepily, your mind only calming down after a lot of deep breathing, “i know you wanted to go out to the pub with the boys…”

he just shakes his head, and places a rough, calloused hand on the small of your back, “it’s okay love, you get warmed up.” a smile weathered by sun, “and tell your brain to stop running a thousand miles an hour.”

you just pillow your head on his lap, somehow he always makes you calm down. 

Reader in the 141 who's quite shorter than them

the bitch strap on the back of your vest definitely gets the most use out of all the guys' Like, yeah, they all use it to drag eachother out of danger or to hold one another back from doing stupid shit, but you're the only one short enough that they can grab the strap and just,,,, lift The moment they all realise it, they use it for stupid shit

You're walking too fast? Yoink, slow down there, roadrunner You're about to take a wrong turn? Nope, this way private, keep up Just a bit too eager to get back to the truck? Easy rookie, the car ain't going anywhere

It comes to a head when you're hungry, haven't eaten since breakfast, and the mention of burgers makes your mouth water and feet move faster than your brain. You barely make it two steps before Price grabs your bitch strap and scruffs you, feet dangling a few inches off the ground as you look at him, betrayed

Huge fucking weevil!!!!

Here is my art piece for @grunklesintercryptidszine — Stans and Warikunchon(s) from Thailand 🇹🇭 🐘

"why is tumblr how i found out xyz" because you check your social media first thing in the morning instead of like. checking the news. hope that helps

shutting down

CAT Cat cats

小摸鱼。

The people you know can hurt you the most 💔💔

sgt. hot headed and his beloved lt. annoying

this one FEELS CRINGE but it took too long to not post. And you know what maybe love is cringe and that's okay 🙄

ghost if he were one of those weird cats

💀🧼 little comic

Normal conversations to have on the plane

I'm also doing more cod art on Patreon!

Imagine accidentally walking into a military dive bar by yourself, not knowing that the customer base was mainly military folk, and just kind of rolling with it

Imagine you dressed cute, your hair was done, and it had been a long week- you deserved a good ol' night on the town, damnit, and you didn't want to pay another Uber to go to another bar

Imagine you making your way up to the bar to order your first drink of the night and when you order a simple cocktail, the bar goes quiet for a split second because who orders a cocktail in this place?

Imagine not knowing that since the second you walked in that door, you've had eyes on you. Of course you've had eyes on you since you walked in, but one pair in particular stayed glued to your form as you walked through the bar

Imagine looking around after getting your drink from the bartender to see where you'd try to sit for a bit to sip on your drink

Imagine there being an empty table near the far end of the bar that you decide to claim as your own as you continued to scope out the bar patrons

Imagine finally locking eyes with the one man that has had his eye on you since the minute you walked in the door

Imagine freezing as you look into his eyes from across the bar, suddenly aware that this huge, masked military man had been looking right at you

Imagine deciding after a second fuck it and you just gave him a smile and a small wave before sipping your drink. After all, he had been looking at you first, right?

Imagine seeing him look away briefly after your wave and you finally turn to look around the bar again, idly sipping at your drink

Imagine not even a minute later, that very same man is now standing right next to you- how the hell did he get there so fast-? And so quietly-?

Imagine the silence that ensues, neither one of you wanting to say the first word (well, it was either not wanting or not knowing what to say)

Imagine the first thing you speak to Simon 'Ghost' Riley, unknowing who he is or what his reputation was, being, "So, uh... Come here often...?"

Imagine that really being your best line for this strange man

Imagine Ghost letting out a soft grunt as he nodded, "Often enough. Never seen you here before."

Imagine you giving him another smile, this one softer and more genuine as you reply, "I didn't realize this was so... Military oriented. Am I even allowed to be here?"

Imagine hearing a small huff from the man, his eyes indiscernible as he says, "Course you're allowed. I'd like to see them try to kick a bird like you out."

Imagine giggling softly, "A bird like me? What's that supposed to mean?"

Imagine all the while, Simon 'Ghost' Riley's teammates are still sitting at the bar, watching this all go down like it was a soap opera. It was, wasn't it? Their Lieutenant going out of his way to flirt with the little bird who accidentally wandered into a military-centric dive and still ordered the little cocktail you liked.

ugh just imagine

masterlist

Part 2 of Rookie!Reader has no idea she’s unraveling Lieutenant!Simon Riley one small, innocent moment at a time

You, sliding into cover on a live op, breath sharp in your throat. Dirt on your cheek, eyes too wide. Simon sees it and is suddenly right there, chest brushing your back, voice low over comms as he growls, “Stay with me.” He doesn’t move away for a beat too long.

You, squeezing past him in a narrow hallway, the wall forcing your bodies close. Your vest drags across his ribs. Simon goes rigid, shoulders locking like someone hit him with a stun round. He mutters “Careful.” Not like a warning, lke a plea.

You, adjusting your earpiece, thumb grazing the soft line of your jaw. Simon, mid-stride, stopping dead, because your mouth parts just slightly in concentration. His eyes drag from your lips to your throat before he jerks his gaze away like he’s been caught doing something indecent.

You, breathing hard after a sprint between buildings, sweat beading at your temple. Simon reaches out without thinking, thumb wiping a streak of dirt and grime from your cheek. His hand freezes when he realizes what he’s doing. You look away.

You, checking your rifle, leaning in too close because the gunfire’s loud and you need to hear him. Simon’s breath hits your ear. He answers in one word again, “Good.” It comes out rough enough to make your pulse kick.

You, ducking behind cover as a round zips past. Simon grabs your waist and yanks you flat against him, shielding you with his body. His hands stay on your hips a moment too long, fingers pressed firm, claiming.

You, whispering “LT?” when the dust settles. Soft and questioning. Simon, swallowing hard like the word punched the air from his lungs, turns to you with something hungry and frantic in his eyes. He forces it down. Barely.

You, pretending you don’t notice how he’s unraveling. Simon, pretending he isn’t.

Both of you failing.

You, lying awake on your cot that night, pulse rabbiting as your mind loops every place his hands touched you. Your thighs pressing together but it’s useless, wetness already pooling, slick and aching. You slip your hand between your legs, breath catching as your slender fingers slide through the mess he left you with. And god help you, you pretend they were his, those thick, gloved fingers stretching your tight cunt open. Simon, none the wiser, sitting on watch outside your tent, jaw locked, chest tight, fighting the same hunger clawing through him—your breath, your voice, the shape of your body under his hands. He’s losing the battle before he even admits it’s begun, cock already hard in his gear as he forces himself to stare at the treeline instead of imagining spreading open your thighs.