#sometimes riley speaks

[signalboobs]

Hi all, another fundraiser. This is for Haya and her family. I’ll put some of what she wrote below but before that I’d love to point out that this fundraiser is in Canadian dollars. If USD is your main currency, it goes so much further here. Please consider donating if you can, $5 CAD is only $3.66 USD, about the price of a cup of coffee.

Speaking of coffee, Haya’s family had a coffee business before the start of the aggression. She went to business school with the hopes of supporting her family and expanding the business. But because of the bombing, they lost everything. She is trying to escape with her mother, father, and two siblings, as well as treat her mother’s rheumatoid arthritis and get her sister back into school to finish her education.

Anything you can give helps, and if you can’t give, sharing goes so far. Please reblog, signal boost, do any of the things to help this family. They are in Rafah right now with the bombing, and need all the help they can get

#sometimes riley speaks #free palestine #palestine fundraiser #palestine #Gaza #free gaza #signal boost

[frogchiro]

thinking about how ghost is just all man with his musky scent and him always hugging you or having an arm around your shoulders after working out so you smell like him 🤭

him filling up your shampoo and conditioner and body wash bottles with ones he uses so even when he’s not there you always smell like him

THE PIC???💀😭😭

Also yes jesus christ this is the best someone described Ghost!!! He's literally all man :(( he's nearing his 40's but he's still so big and strong and well build, very hairy too and his smell oh my god :(( he has a very heavy but pleasant smell, woodsy with a hint of cigarette, his sweat and natural musk make for a very heady mixture that makes your head spin and thighs squeeze when Si's near :((

Ghost is a man of logic and stern, cold and calculated thinking, that's how he became a lieutenant and how he survived on the battlefield for so long but when he's with you? Instincts overtake him; his need to be close with you, to protect you and provide for you everything you'd ever need: food, warmth, pleasure, sex, comfort...everything. Obviously he logically knows that you're safe here on base and basic needs are ofc provided but still it gets him going that he can be the one to do it :((

But the one primal thing Simon enjoys the most (besides stuffing you full of cum in hopes of succesfully breeding you) is have you smell like him or at least for you to be familiar with his natural musky scent.

I'm gonna go with the bed/nest idea from my last clingy Ghost post, but he will purposefully sleep naked without taking a shower so the bedsheets can smell of him and ultimately you too since you always sleep curled up against him :((

It's almost like a need for you to smell like him, it's like marking territory of a dangerous predator who won't hesitate to tear your fucking throat out if you intrude. So whenever you two take showers together (which is very often), he likes to use his body shower gel to have you smell even if for a bit like him and you never wuestion it anyway, just follow him like the good girl you are and when he's out on a mission and can't be there to shower with you? Then he will pour his shower products into yours so your smells can mingle like you're together :((

#kin speaks #asks #interactions #he sometimes goes dumb :(( #thinking with his cock n balls #but we love him♡ #hacker girl!reader #cod mw x reader #cod x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley cod

[lunarw0rks]

buying an old, secluded house in the scottish highlands, intending on renovating and reselling it. but you find out quickly that it's haunted. like, haunted haunted.

at first, you refuse to believe a man that pretty would be dead. let alone, a nefarious spirit with... questionable intentions.

but, compared to the (literal) horror stories you've heard, spirit!johnny is pretty cordial in his ways of messing with you. always picks up the books he knocks over to startle you, or when you scream at him to give you back your keys, or quit hiding your glasses, dammit

sometimes, when you're in the right mood, you find it comforting to know you're not all alone out in the middle of nowhere. it's not like you can tell your friends and family any details of this. you'll sound downright insane.

you learn to deal with the strong scent of his cologne or the creak of his footsteps (which you only hear because he wants you to, of course).

and—naturally—the feeling of large hands smoothing along your spine, down to your hips, a thumb strumming your lips. possessively, right as sleep engulfs you. the first few times you chalk it up to an erotic fantasy that only surfaces when you're exhausted and bordering on delirium.

however, it proves difficult to rationalize the voice. especially when he knows your name.

#and occasionally his friend appears who is ummmm MASSIVE and /definitely/ scarier #simon thinks its funny to stand behind you in the mirror and disappear right when you notice #hes usually nicer if you set out a cup of tea or cigs for him before bed #you havent heard him talk but sometimes hear a deep chuckle #does this make any fucking sense im experiencing a caffeine crash #do i elaborate or shut the fuck up #unedited #pls spare me #spirit!johnny #spirit!ghoap #[also simon hates you touching his things] #mw2 #call of duty #task force 141 #ghoap #soap mactavish #simon riley #rachel speaks

[ghouljams]

“He can only stomach his reflection in your eyes” KAJEJEJRHEHEHEHHEHSJWHDBE DJDHHAHD DHEBE HAHWJW AKISE ABSOLUTELY INCREDIBLE BRILLIANT SHOWSTOPPING ⭐️♥️🔥🔥 i will be thinking about that line for the rest of my life thankyou

Thank you I love that line I just had to sit with it for a moment when I wrote it because I was like damn... when did I become a good writer...

Sorry I usually try to be humble but yeah, love that little stretch. I love the idea that Ghost knows he's handsome, takes pride in being attractive, but can't look at himself except to shave. A house full of covered mirrors, the curtains only drawn for a brief moment before they're closed again. But when he lays in bed with you, when he's so close he can see his shadow reflected in your eyes, he's the best he's ever looked. He could stare for hours, it's you, only ever you, that makes him feel like he can be something bigger than himself. That makes it easy, natural, to see his reflection and not flinch away.

#ghoul speaks #cod x reader #x reader #simon ghost riley #sometimes i see myself in the boyfriend's eyes and im like oh thats cool #yeah i get why people thought images could be burned into your eyeballs #but mostly i just think wow im really close to this mans face #and then he gets a little kiss lol

[cod-dump]

Soap: Hey can I ask a stupid question?

Ghost: Better than anyone I know.

#submission #source: how to train your dragon #Soap: *stares in shock* #Ghost: Go on. Let's get this over with #he loves him but sometimes soap does not think before he speaks #call of duty #cod mwii #modern warfare ii #incorrect quotes #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #soapghost #ghostsoap

[snifsnoof]

-gasoline in your heart-

the end paragraph from chapter 6 had me feeling warm and fuzzy ngl so i drew the scene from königs perspective!! attention pls!! the fic is called "gasoline in your heart" and the author is @whisperwarm or their side blog @whispermask (i dont know which account youd like me to tag tut mir leid😭)

translation under the cut <33

"huh, das ging aber schnell." "huh, that was fast."

"ist er noch wach?" "is he still awake?"

#worked on this all week 😭 #im happy with the outcome though ^^ #also dont mind me putting a little more german when i write könig sometimes #i cant help it!! i miss speaking german bc i havent done it a lot online #my art #cod #mw2 #call of duty #modern warfare 2 #gasoline in your heart #könig #ghost #simon riley #soap #john mctavish #soap mctavish #fanart

[lailuhhh]

Macgyver au where everything’s the same but they curse like the adults they are

#let Mac say Fuck™️ #let Riley say Fuck™️ #let Bozer say Fuck™️ #the closest we got was Jack saying Bitch™️ #literally just the same exact script and everything #just sprinkle in some swears now and then #like #‘Mac’s got some weird fuckin ideas sometimes but they work’ #or #‘That mission really fucked you guys up didn’t it’ #JUST LET THEM SAY FUCK #lailuh speaks #macgyver #macgyver 2016

[tarmac-rat]

"It’s the way life should be lived, she thinks. Unstuck, unburdened, the only thing holding you back is the amount of CHOOH you can cram into your gas tank. So go. Gun it. Don’t look back and don’t look forward. Keep your eyes set on that little bit of road in front of you and ride it like you know it’s never going to end."

Happy Fem V Friday, y'all 🙂

Full images under the cut

#Cyberpunk 2077 #CP2077 #Fem V Friday #V #My V #Riley Aldana #Excerpt is from a WIP of my longfic that I've been working on for.......what four months now? Jesus #I'm not really the best screenshotter in terms of like...posing and light but sometimes #inspiration strikes and you end up spending 70 minutes putting something together because your writing is speaking to you at the moment. #You know how it is with writing :P #Aldi speaks #Aldi memes

[flickeringflame216]

i associate you with Julia and hiking and yelling about worship music and shouting about how cool God is when reading scripture and being a literal ray of sunshine and throwing blankets at you. whaT A GOOD FRIEND OH MY GOODNESS.

AHAKDNGKDNSBF GNFNAMSNF GNGJJWKTMYN RILLA

#yeah nope I can’t speak #I’m literally a puddle of cry #sometimes you love people so much it hurts yeah this is one of those times #riley! #questions and quacksalvers

[ciceroandthelistener]

i think im gonna dress up a little bit today

#sometimes i am struck with the desire for gender fuckery and today is one of those days #it’s not terrible warm out so i might just wear my denim jacket (with the lil nas patch on it :3) #can’t decide what shoes i want tho. #heels would look great but im gonna be walking around (i probably want my dino boots for that) #but i also want to wear the shoes that make me a little taller. or my cowboy boots #riley speaks

[signalboobs]

i am about to reblog every post i liked after watching the first 3 episodes of the new ofmd season, so i'd like to apologize in advance to my followers

ok here we go

#ofmd #sometimes riley speaks #ofmd s2

[lovelyghst]

just thinking about how big simon riley is.

like him fucking you in missionary; the way his shoulders completely block your field of vision and his large hand planted right by your ear dwarfs your own by the masses. his meaty, veiny arm leading up to his panting chest, usually pressed fully against your own as it gets him so worked up to feel your tummy and tits, hard nipples and soft skin grazing his calloused build. the big man comes with big scars!!

speaking of scars, he gets so fucking weak in the knees and heart when you pay attention to his various marks scattered on him. he never tells you the full stories—rarely even a spec of the truth, most often—but he still gets a little flustered when you kiss them better.

simon can usually hold it together, but sometimes (all the time) he gets sooo hard and blushy when you touch and squeeze his biceps and feel up his abs. call him your strong and impressive man and he’ll have you on your hands and knees in the matter of seconds, shoving his dick in you from behind to cover up how pink his cheeks turned.

he loves coming up behind you in the bathroom while you’re getting ready, putting on your pretty lipgloss or adjusting the bow in your hair while he watches through the mirror like a quiet, curious dog.

seeing how the width of your shoulders only reach his pecs when you’re centered at his front, and christ, the height difference.

placing his large palms on your hips, one up them maneuvering to flatten out on your tummy and pull you further into him. he wraps his arms around your entire frame for the tightest bear hug ever.

call him cliché, but he has such an evil habit of comparing your hand sizes. it turns him on and makes you giggle, each and every time.

the one time you asked him to slip his arm around your waist and head in the crook of your collar for a mirror picture had resulted in your neck being sandwiched between his bicep and forearm, and long lasting marks on your hips from where they hit the counter repeatedly as he fucked you hard in a chokehold.

you just get him so riled up! but it’s okay, because he kissed your temple a lot throughout and afterwards apologized with cuddles for ruining your nice outfit and makeup <3

#cod mw #simon riley #ghost cod #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley x female reader #ghost x female reader #simon riley smut #ghost smut

[ghouljams]

I want to give Die all the hugs right now, poor girl is just doin her job and ghost is just taking it out on her. I wonder if Soap and big brother Hush get upset at Ghost for hurting Die like this? Especially if Demon Price drops her off and tells them to comfort her. Like I understand where Ghost is coming from but f*ck.

-Hot mess rambler Anon

Hush is going to be big time mad. He's PISSED. Does Hush know the situation? No. Is Hush ride or die for any of the other demons? Yes absolutely.

Soap on the other hand... That's his best pal, Ghost is hurting and he knows why. He's sympathetic towards Die, but when she recounts what happened his heart doesn't break for her it breaks for Ghost. He knows exactly what Ghost was thinking in that moment, knows the way Ghost's brain works and has never faulted him his bite. Dogs bite when they're scared too, and Soap's first priority is making sure his LT is ok. Sorry Die, Hush has you covered, Soap's gonna go make sure Ghost isn't sinking too far into his bad thoughts.

#ghoul speaks #simon ghost riley #johnny soap mactavish #the way.... the way I want another poly ship #the ghostsoap takes over sometimes they're just so good for each other #me eyeing Die like girl can u take 3 of them?? #IGNORE THAT PLEASE

[ceilidho]

prompt: construction worker ghost and his elementary school teacher neighbour who made the poor decision to start feeding him (nsfw, 2k) [based on this old ask] [on ao3 here]

-

They say not to feed wild animals. 

It makes them grow soft, lazy. Alters their behaviour. Takes an animal previously capable of finding its own food dependent on humans for sustenance. Makes them lose their natural fear of humans and nearly always results in an increase in human-wildlife conflicts as they start to seek out people. It’s a known fact. You can’t go to a park without seeing it plastered on posters in the bathroom and on the sides of the vending machines under the gazebos where you purchase your post-hike iced tea and veggie roll to eat on a nearby bench. 

You know this. So you really don’t know what possessed you to leave a cooler full of sandwiches on your neighbour’s doormat before turning in for the night. 

He wakes up preternaturally early and leaves every morning around four-thirty or five o’clock on the dot. Sometimes in the fog of sleep, you wake to hear the door to the apartment beside yours crack open and slam shut, and then the sound of lumbering footsteps down the hall towards the staircase before that door opens and slams shut too. 

He never comes home before four o’clock at the earliest. That’s around when you come home from work as well, meaning that you sometimes catch him at the door, him covered in grime and reeking of old sweat while you come flouncing down the hall in whatever colourful dress you’d donned that morning, inevitably paint-splattered by the end of the day. Always something appropriate to wear at an elementary school but colourful enough to keep the kids’ eyes and attention on you. 

You’ve caught his name in half-whispered conversations with the property manager, but aside from that, all you know about Simon Riley is that he works in construction. He certainly looks the part: big, calloused hands with blunt, dirt-caked nails and cut up fingers, knuckles always swollen and thick. Body all strength and brawn. Hard hat tucked under his armpit and decorated with countless stickers from old job sites, the same way his forearm is covered in tattoos. 

You’ve even passed by his current job site once or twice—some new condo complex going up by the canal that’s forced you and hundreds of other commuters to leave an extra thirty minutes early to account for the road closures. You pointedly don’t bring that up in conversation though. That would just be rude. 

At least it would be something to talk about though.

It’s not like the two of you talk. You’re not close by any means. Though you moved in a few months ago, you haven’t had much luck mustering up the confidence to squeak out more than a hi to him in passing. When he grunts back something approximating a hello, it’s all you can do not to break your key in the lock when you hurry into your apartment and slam the door shut behind you, heart beating frantically in your chest. 

It’s humiliating. You’re a grown woman and you’ve talked to plenty of men before. You’ve dated plenty of men before. Just because this one speaks in monosyllables and stares at you with an intensity that makes your stomach churn and your palms grow sweaty doesn’t change anything. Just because this one is built like a redwood with wrists thick enough that you’d need both hands to wrap around doesn’t make him any different than any other person.

And yet, when Simon asks you for your name on a rainy June afternoon after you’ve come in after him for a change only to find him sifting through letters at the mailbox, you garble out something that sounds nothing like your name before scurrying up the stairs to your flat.

It’s humiliating. It’s humid outside and your dress is sticking to all the wrong places (namely, your nipples and the inside of your thighs when the skirt swishes between your legs with each stride) and now you’ve made an ass of yourself in front of the only hot guy in your building. There are serial arsonists with more charm than you. 

So maybe the sandwiches are an apology letter or an olive branch. Or maybe it just makes your heart race to think of Simon opening up the cooler and finding four wax paper-wrapped sandwiches tucked neatly over ice packs. 

All you know is that when you step out of your apartment the next morning, the cooler is empty on your doormat, the lid propped open. He must have taken them with him. 

You smile. A job well done. Apology served fresh, with cucumber slices in the middle. 

The problem starts when you don’t leave him another cooler full of sandwiches on his doormat the next day. 

You didn’t consider that he might think you’d make it a habit. Perhaps that’s partially on you for not leaving a note on the cooler the first time to explain that it was just a one-off; just a way to apologize for being less than chipper around him. But instead of shrugging it off, you come home after a long day to find him standing right outside your apartment, arms crossed over his chest, thick biceps straining against his sweat-stained shirt. 

“Open the door,” Simon commands, nostrils flaring as he glares down at you. He jerks his head towards your door when you just frown, not following. “Been starving here waiting for you to show up.”

You open your mouth to say something, but nothing comes out. You’re at a loss for words, never mind that your whole job involves talking. He leaves you speechless though. 

Simon doesn’t move when you step close enough to unlock the door. You try to keep your body angled away so as not to brush up against him, but it’s inevitable. He doesn’t move when the door opens either, forcing you to squeeze by him. 

He goes straight to the kitchen and drags a chair out, letting it scrape across the floor like men always do before taking a seat. You follow after him nervously, apprehensive at having a man in your space. Not just a man, but Simon Riley. It feels sacrilege—not like he has no right being in your space, but you can’t imagine him here, sitting at your tiny dining room table like he comes over for dinner every Sunday. 

When he catches you standing under the archway to the kitchen just staring at him, he barks, “Well?”

That has you scurrying over to the fridge to pull out the cold cuts and pickled red onions. There’s a loaf of bread already on the counter, the bag twisted and tucked underneath because you had to leave in a rush this morning. You don’t know half of what you pile on the sandwiches, but whatever you serve him must satisfy him because Simon digs in with gusto, finishing the plate off in only a few bites while you wash the cutlery in the sink. You watch him out of the corner of your eye the whole while.

He leaves not too long after that, only a light warning for you to not miss tomorrow’s lunch before heading back over to his own apartment. You don’t even get a word in edgewise. 

It becomes something of a routine after that and not one you have any control over. Every night before bed, you leave him a cooler full of sandwiches and other things like cut up fruit or slices of cheese on his doormat, and every afternoon you rock up to him waiting on your doorstep, demanding to be let in. 

He takes to giving you a wet kiss before he leaves, all tongue and his fingers curled around the nape of your neck, holding you in place. When you try to cover his mouth with your hand, he nips at your fingers until you move them and let him slip you some tongue. 

The day you make him a casserole for supper, he bends you over the back of your couch and eats you out. Simon eats like a man starving, glutting himself on the wetness between your legs, licking even over the furl of your asshole and chuckling under his breath when you squeal and flail, your toes just brushing against the floor. 

In the aftermath, you sit panting in his lap while he eats. He gets up only briefly to get the bowl of strawberries and cream you left chilling in the fridge before lifting you up and putting you right back in his lap. You stare bleary-eyed when he holds a finger covered in cream up to your lips.

“Clean me up, pet,” he says, then watches you with half-lidded eyes while you lick his finger clean. 

He makes you suck his fingers too, to keep things even. He does it when you’re angled half off the bed, thick digits stuffed down your throat until your eyes leak big, fat tears that he licks away, hungry for those too. The man is always hungry, always keen to fill his belly. 

The arrangement continues on long enough to become normal, even routine. Simon shows up at your door every day after work waiting to be fed, and then makes you come a couple times before he leaves, a little thank you to repay you for the food. He never really says all that much when he comes around, not a conversationalist of a man. His preference is to eat, fuck, and leave, which you’re happy to accommodate, still too tongue-tied yourself to broach a real conversation. 

That’s all before he starts helping himself to your bed for a quick nap after a big supper. Then for naps that turn into a full night’s sleep, snoring like a chainsaw under the covers with you tucked under his arm, naked breasts pressed against his side, keeping you awake most of the night until you pass out somewhere around one A.M. 

Just as you suspected, Simon gets up at around four or five to be at the jobsite on time, but at your place, he gets up a bit earlier to help himself to breakfast. He doesn't even bother waking you up, just turns you over onto your tummy and spreads your legs before sinking his dick into where you're still stretched out from the night before. If you wake up or squirm, he just leans down and murmurs, “S'alright, pet…just need a pick me up before work. Go back to sleep, you’re okay,” and ruts between your thighs until he comes inside you and leaves you all wet in bed with one last messy kiss to your temple. 

The door slams shut on his way out. 

Because you feed him, he keeps coming back. The workday passes in a blur: attendance, a spelling test, recess, maths in the afternoon, and then you’re driving home in the same daze that has you slamming on the brakes before rear ending an old woman who stopped two cars behind the truck at the redlight ahead. 

You’re home earlier than him for a change, so you unlock the door quickly while there’s still a chance to avoid him. No such luck. When Simon turns up, he pounds on the door until you let him in. And you do. 

It’s a wonder you haven’t come apart at the seams, horny and pent up after this morning. You were too sleepy to come after all, rode hard and put away wet. Still, you flit nervously around the apartment, looking everywhere but at him. 

He always smells rich after working all day in the sun, like sweat and dirt. It's not a particularly nice smell, but it still kind of gets you going. He goes for a shower and then collapses on the couch after, beckoning you over to you crawl into his lap and grind yourself on his thigh because he knows of course. Simon can probably smell it on you, the ache. He shushes you when you whine about it, big hands fitting around your hips and pressing you down until your clit rubs deliciously against the muscle of his thigh and your head goes cloudy, cheek mushed against the pillow of his chest. 

When you come, Simon tips your chin up with his knuckle and murmurs, “Knickers off, love. Haven’t got my fill.”

He feeds you your own slick from his fingers when he kneels on the floor in front of the couch, your legs draped over his shoulders. Your fingers scratch helplessly over shorn blond hair, buzzed almost to the scalp. It’s prickly under your fingertips. 

Simon’s a messy eater. Your slick dribbles down his lips and glistens on his chin. It makes the blood roar under your skin, feverishly hot. 

“Please, Simon,” you whine, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. “It hurts.”

You feel his lips quirk up against the folds of your pussy, the flat of his tongue running up the seam and flicking over your clit. He chuckles when your hips jerk. “Greedy aren’t you, pet? Didn’t even say thank you for getting on my knees.”

“You didn’t make me come!”

His voice borders on mocking when he coos, “Poor little thing. It’s gonna be a lot longer ‘til she gets to come if you don’t say thank you.”

Your brain goes staticy, fingers twitching on his scalp. His words echo back in your head. It’s rubbish, is what it is. All this time and he’s never said thank you once for the countless meals you’ve fed him. Indignation bubbles up in you, rising to the surface like fat on the cream, and you raise a hand to rub the tears from your eyes, a harsh rebuke on the tip of your tongue.

The protest dies on your lips when he meets your gaze. It’s hungrier than anything you’ve ever seen. Whatever animal lives under his skin stares back at you with black eyes, drool leaking from its jowls. It’s mindless, intent only on slaking its hunger. Filling its empty belly. And it is not afraid of you anymore. It knows you’ll feed it until it’s full. It knows you won’t let it go hungry anymore. 

So, always leery of the bigger animal in the room, you mumble out a chest-thick, “Thank you,” and shiver when he grins. 

There’s a reason they tell you not to feed strays. They often come back for more.

#ceil writing #cod mw2 #cod x reader #ghost x reader #ghost/reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley/reader

[bipolarpng]

been very frustrated talking to my mom lately. its happened multiple times lately but ill be trying to tell her something and after one sentence she goes off on a 5 mile long tangent. and i just have to wait until shes done and go "anyways" and continue.

today she did that and i must have made a face because she was like "what?! are you upset with me for having a CONVERSATION with you?!" yes actually shut the fuck up and listen for once 🙄

#things i wish i could say without consequences #dont get me wrong i love my mom but god is she frustrating to talk to sometimes #riley speaks

[phantasmagoria-in-neverland]

COD men and what article of clothing of theirs they prefer to see you in.

John Price is an elegant gentleman, he loves putting his coat over your shoulders when you're cold. He always holds it for you to help you put it on, and he adjusts the collar as his fingers gently brush against your neck. His coat is big, warm and it smells like him, and he adores the way you burrow yourself into it. During the colder months, he keeps an extra jacket in his car that he can wear if he gives you the one he had on, and if you fall asleep while you're not at home, John always gently lays his coat over you like a blanket. 

Simon “Ghost” Riley is an absolute sucker for the way you look in his hoodies, and although he never says it out loud, he gets a certain look in his eyes that speaks a thousand words in his place. They're oversized even on him, and they fit his style perfectly: black with the occasional skull/edgy design of some sorts. He especially loves it if your style is even just a little bit different from his, the contrast makes him melt. He never asks you to wear his hoodies, but he does leave them lying around in a way that is very obvious.

Johnny “Soap” MacTavish goes feral every single time he sees you in his boxers. It doesn't even have to be sexual, just the intimacy of it makes him go wild. It's something that you simply don't share with anyone else, sure, someone else might lend you their jacket, but no one else but him can lend you something as intimate as his boxers. If you also wear boxers he is more than happy to trade, if you don't, he will not so jokingly insist that his underwear is way more comfortable than whatever you're wearing.

Kyle “Gaz” Garrick puts his signature cap on your head every time he isn't wearing it or he isn't on a mission. It's the most him thing he owns, and he thinks there's something incredibly intimate (and attractive) about seeing you wearing it. He's sharing with you the one thing he wears that truly feels like it represents him, and he'd love it if you did the same for him. Sometimes he helps you put it on almost reverentially, other times, he pulls the visor over your eyes and chuckles like it's the funniest thing in the world.

Alejandro Vargas loves when you wear his shirts. It's a bit of a classic, but he loves the difference between how they look on him, tight and accentuating his muscles, and how they look on you, with the neckline wide enough for small flashes of your collarbones to peek out. Wear his shirt as a dress, even just once, and he will never shut up about how much of a breathtaking sight you make. He subconsciously starts buying colours he thinks will suit you, and the wide grin he gets when he sees you in them could light up an entire city.

Rodolfo Parra prefers to give you the most comfortable, cozy clothes he owns. It can vary from a warm sweater, to comfortable joggers, to a loose T-shirt. Whatever makes you feel the most at home is immediately transferred from his wardrobe and into yours. And if you prefer it when they still smell of him, he'll either take the care of wearing them just to give them back to you, or give you a bottle of his perfume that you can spray on whenever you want to. Most of all, he has a gigantic soft spot for seeing you in an article of clothing that has sentimental value and meaning to him.

Phillip Graves loves to give you clothes that are very easily recognisable as his, like the blue button ups that he always wears. He adores seeing how comfortable you look in them while you wear them at home, maybe paired with high socks. And he adores it even more when you style them properly to wear them outside the house, in a way that makes it clear that you're happy to let everyone know who your man is. Either way, his eyes are glued to you for the whole day while you are wearing his shirts, a smug smile on his face.

König always gives you small pieces of himself, small things that remind you of him but that are subtle enough not to bring other people's attention to it. He likes that it's something only the two of you know about, something you keep for yourselves. The things he gives you always change, it could be a ring one day, then a necklace, a scarf, or even a bag. And in the privacy of your home, he adores seeing you in his mask, as he shares the intimate part of himself he never shares with anyone else.

Alex Keller literally gives you free reign over his closet. Everything that is his is yours as well, you don't even have to ask. He'll even change his outfit for the day if he sees you wearing something he was planning on putting on. When he goes shopping, he often asks you to accompany him, so that you can help him choose the pieces that you think would look best on him, and also the pieces that he knows you'll want to steal later. He also adores wearing his clothes after you've borrowed them, your smell still lingering comfortingly on them.

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