#and its not about john wanting and loving him less | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

berniecranes · 1 year

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xxxi. thing you carry everywhere

Wrote this on the day of the prompt, but was a little hesitant to post it here. But I still really like it and feel like sharing it. Especially since I'm not writing much right now, as not being the biggest fan of February's prompts

It was weird to actually be in his room again. In his genuine house. Not anything trying to act as it, he was actually stateside. He couldn't quite say it felt as if he never left; but he certainly tried to force that feeling. Hoping it would come genuinely and naturally soon. John laid in bed, his arm cradling his head. It had to be his left, as he can't leave his right hand scrunched up for so long. It'll begin to feel heavy, and feel hard to move, cramping up. His hand doesn't fully stop on him anymore, but he'll always have to adjust how he does things all because of that goddamn hand. He slipped his lit cigarette into his mouth so he could run his fingers across his clothed chest. He didn't need to see the scar under his t-shirt to know it's there. He knows right where it begins and where it ends. He's at least somewhat thankful this one doesn't bother him nearly as bad as his hand. This one only brings anger and hints of shame when he's shirtless, looking down at himself. He feels like a fool for trusting someone as much as he trusted Aldridge. He told himself to not do that again, to never put more faith in someone than you put in yourself. But there he went. Only took a couple years and he became that fool all over again.

But this time it was different. He knew that's easier said, but he truly believed it this time. Aldridge left him with wounds that will never heal. Left him with pain that will never heal; whether that's when his hand twitched at the heat or when holding a gun. When the part of his scar that is still rose for some reason becomes angry and it feels like thorns across his hand. Or when it's nights like this. He can't sleep because too many thoughts are circling. But Lincoln, he couldn't have been anymore different. John sat up from his bed, resting his cigarette in his ashtray after taking a long drag. He pulled open the bottom drawer of his night stand, where he shoved some stuff away when he got home. Gently, he picked up the chain with two tags dangling from it. He looked at the first one. It had his name and number on it. This one was all his, but then he put his focus on the lower one, hanging on by the smaller chain. This one wasn't his, it was Lincoln's. He still remembers the night they exchanged them.

It was the night before they were going to make an aggressive move. One that left you a little jittery about what could go wrong. It was just the two of them. Lincoln for once seemed a little nervous of what was to come. This was unlike him. John had his reservations as well, but he showed them more frequently; never too scared, as it was shown more through caution and over compensation, a sort of cockiness. But he felt just as vulnerable as Lincoln was in the moment. Lincoln slowly brought his hand up to his dogtags and undid the lower hanging one, John watched in silence, his chest moving up and down with every breath and exhale. Lincoln clipped it onto John's tags. John began to do the same. John never knew what military shit he didn't know about, as that wasn't necessarily his field. But at this moment, it all made sense.

'At least we'll both make it out.' Lincoln said tenderly. His voice having a sense of airiness John only rarely heard.

'I've never seen you like this. You're starting to scare me now.' John exhaled. 'We'll both make it out, walking right next to each other. Not whatever this is.'

'I know.'

John swallowed hard, and put his hand on top of Lincoln's. Lincoln twisted his hand to be palm up, and let his thumb gently caress John's skin.

John ran his own thumb over Lincoln's tag. It was late, and he had no light on. He couldn't read what it said but he could feel the indent of the words. He hopes he's adjusting nicely to being home. Lincoln deserved to get a break for once. He actually was a man with code and carried his own honor. John truly wasn't sure if their paths would ever cross again in the real world, but he knew Lincoln wasn't leaving his thoughts anytime soon.

#ive learned about the exchanging of dogtags a couple years back and its something that has stuck with me sense #i think there is something so intimate about wanting to carry the tag of the person you love/care abt (and him doing the same)#as a way to metaphorically keeps them around in case anything bad happens and they may not make it out #seeing its done more or less in the moment where fear could be at its highest #it really stuck with me and I think would be such a silent yet tender act of Lincoln's doing and really special #🗓✏️#mafia (game) —#m3 etc #also this is a little far off from the prompt; its the feelings john carries with him not the object if that makes sense #which is why Aldridge is also brought up here #also youll be able to figure out but in the tags meant ***since not sense and keep not keeps whateva!#edited this slightly from the one posted on my other blog just for a lil more smoothness but idk sksksksk

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squishycheekanon · 1 month

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Another sweet sweet price thot💋

Okay but let’s talk about Mountain man Price. He retired a few years ago and decided he much prefers the solitude of the beautiful mountains, with the tips of them all covered in snow. He likes the quiet, knowing he won’t run into anyone here. No one from the little town at the bottom of the mountains would be brave enough to hike the mountain trail.

He remembers the day he built his nice log cabin with the help of his trusty lieutenant of course. Simon helped his Captain one last time, before parting ways. Price wanted to be alone, after everything he’d experienced in the military, he wanted it to be just himself and the weather to keep him company.

He’d have the survival skills no doubt about it, but the more time he spent up there the more his social skills began to fade away. He’d have to come down every six months or so to restock his food, he make his trip down the hike trail to the little town at the bottom of the mountains and through the woods.

But the shop workers weren’t his biggest fans. He’d practically clear them out of their stock, the poor little local shop. They didn’t like his attitude either, found him strange and unapproachable. Though that’s exactly what John was going for. The less people that spoke to him, the better.

Until he met you of course.

It was only your second week at your new job, you’d just moved to the little town around a month ago and this was the only job available after some woman called Darlene went of maternity leave.

My gosh the way you’d be so nice to him having no idea the stigma that surrounded him and how suprised he’d be at the kindness you showed him. He’d actually look forward to coming down to the town.

He’d come more often as well, saying he’d ran out of supplies and yet he’d only buy a bag of fruit or some meat. Then he’d start to tidy up his appearance too, trim his over grown beard and moustache back to its former glory. The blush that would spread across your cheeks the first time you see him like that.

Hair trimmed too, you’d be able to see his perfect lips and crooked smile. It provoked a feeling in you that you’d long forgotten. Slowly but surely he’d start trying to flirt. Trying. Though you found it endearing how bad he was at it. Finally though he’d succeeded asking you out on a date and fuck the moment he’d turn up in his dark blue jeans, black shirt and dark brown leather jacket and boots. You swooned.

He had the charm turned on, especially after his phone call with his ex team. They could all hear how nervous their former captain was for this date. It made them very intrigued to meet you one day.

John didn’t miss a beat, almost as if he’d laid this date out like a mission. Going step by step to win your heart. He made you laugh so hard your stomach hurt, made you smile until your cheeks ached. Ordered the food and drinks impressively, no umming or stuttering.

He gave you butterflies when he reached over the table to grab your hand in his larger one. The skin was rough and calloused, but it felt amazing against your hand. He loved how soft your skin felt against his. He traced around the palm of your hand with his thick index finger, those gorgeous ocean eyes gazing into your soul.

After dinner, John took you to a local bar that you were pleasantly surprised with. A few drinks later you tipsily confessed how handsome you thought he was. The longer the evening went on, the more longing looks and teasing touches were shared.

The evening ended with the two of you slow dancing until last call. The way your bodies pressed together, the intimacy and warmth. The way he’d always make eye contact, almost as if he was trying to read you. The way he held you so tender yet tight, his large hands on your body. It all just felt so right.

John walked you home, looking so sad when it was time to part ways. “Please, let’s do this again sweetheart.” When your manager Billy had called you that, it made you feel sick. Had the hairs on the back of your neck standing up, disgust shivering down your body. But when John said it, damn. Your body shivered in delight, the deep mumble entangled with that delicious accent of his made you gulp back a lump in your throat. You swear your underwear was a little wet too.

You nodded leaning forward to kiss his cheek goodnight, John was quick to take your cheeks into his hands and press his wanting lips against yours. He was hungry and almost vicious when he kissed you, it made you wonder what kind of lover he was like as he pressed you against your front door and kissed you like he’d never get the chance again.

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marcsburnerphone · 4 months

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And they were roommates

(Captain John price x F!reader)

Summary: that captain wants somewhere more homely to settle down and when an offer like yours comes alight on Zillow he must take up on it.

Warnings: none yet

Part 1 - part 2 - part 3 - part 4

———————

“John Price, military captain, heavily decorated, and unmarried.” you read off of a printed sheet of paper. He’s the third person you’ve seen today that wants to rent the room available. You were praying this one would be a success. You weren’t looking to house the married couples or the rowdy in love teenagers you’d seen earlier on today.

“Yes ma’am that is me.” He says looking down at you, not metaphorically but physically he’s inches above you. You’re far younger than he imagined, beautiful and so awfully well spoken that he’d assumed you’d be either his age or older.

“If this is your job and you’re not married and don't have kids I’m sure you get paid well. Why do you need a roommate?” You say hoping you don’t sound rude but with a job like that this man could afford much better.

“I’m not home much and basically live on base but for the times I do briefly return home id like it to be in a place like your home, beautiful, deserted, quiet.” The last few places he stayed in were apartments and he wanted to settle into something he actually cared to return to, not just someplace that could hold some belongings.

“Well then Mr.Price let me show you the rooms and house, follow me.” You lead him into your home through the halls and the living room simply showing him around making small talk about your job and hobbies.

“If you don’t mind me asking why is it you need a roommate?” He later returns the question, you halt in your tracks and stand still for a second making John hope he hadn’t overstepped.

“I was in a long term relationship that ended two years ago and when we broke up he left me the house or I technically demanded I keep it and um bills have been hard to keep up with.” You Look him in the eyes and smile softly, relieving him of the anxious feeling he’s holding.

“Sorry for asking.” He sincerely apologizes.

“Don’t worry about it, I think it's better you did because this will lead us to the next thing.” You reassure him and continue walking through a pair of French doors.

“This will be your office, I’m sorry about the boxes, they're a little too heavy for me to carry through this house and throw away.” You point to a fair amount of them pushed into a corner.

“No, don't worry about it, I'll get them out.” He replies kindly.

“And then right through here would be your bedroom.” It's exactly to the right of his office, a huge room which must be the master. He wonders if this had been the room you shared with your ex and by the look that covers your gorgeous features, he’s right.

“It has its own bathroom and a walk-in closet. If you want to live here, I’d like the home to be treated as if we both own it, not like you just rent a room, especially for the price.” You explain and truly that is your hope. He’s the perfect tenant and on his submission form he’s looking for a long term place which would mean less worry about the future bills on your behalf.

“When can I start moving in?” He turns to look in your hopeful eyes.

“Immediately if you want it of course.” You say with excitement. The mortgage payments have been a burden and this was a huge relief.

“Is it okay if I have some of my mates help me take these boxes out?” You nod enthusiastically with a quiet

‘of course’.

“I'll be back here early in the morning, Thankyou for inviting me into your home.” He says turning to make way back down the path you took to the room.

“Thankyou Mr.Price.” You offer your hand as a settlement.

“Call me John please.” He shakes it politely.

“I'll see you tomorrow john.” You say walking him to the door and bidding him a goodbye.

—————-

“Be honest captain, is she cute?” John had the unfortunate situation of having to haul soap with him in his car while the two other men drove the moving truck that he only rented to get rid of the boxes you had.

“She’s nearly a decade younger than me.” He answers hoping that’ll lay it to rest.

‘That doesn’t answer my question.” Soap never chooses peace.

“Yeah she’s stunning.” And really you were.

—————————-

“Hi good morning, come in.” You say opening the door letting the cold air sweep into your warm home. Eyeing the huge men that stood in the doorway.

“Good morning this is soap, gaz, and that's ghost if you couldn’t tell. This is my task force and certainly my best mates.” John replies quickly giving them an introduction.

“Nice to meet you all.” You say trying your hardest to not sound intimidated.

“And you as well, gorgeous.” Soap says gripping your small hand in his own.

“He’s a flirt, don't worry about him.” Gaz says, shaking your hand next.

“Nice to meet you.” Ghost offers you his gloved hand giving you the softest handshake he thinks he’s ever given in his life.

“Well you boys can get too it there is pastries on the counter and drinks in the fridge if you need anything i'll be in my room that’s down this hall.” You say smiling at all of them then reaching into the pocket on your paint stained overalls fishing out a pair of keys.

“Oh and before I can forget John these are yours, this one is too your office and bedroom door and this one is too the house door.” You say handing them over on the pink keychain you’ve kept them on all this time.

“Thank you.” He says before you walk away.

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“That little lady does not know how to pack these. They are insanely heavy, how'd she ever expect to get them out.” Soap says picking up a box from the office room that’s filled with papers.

“I don’t think that was her main concern.” John says as he also picks one up walking them outside and into the U-Haul he rented.

“She’s a true stunner though, how will John Price be able to resist?” He teases his captain.

“I’m with soap on that one.” Ghost surprisingly grumbles throwing a box down on the gravel.

“Should’ve seen the way she was looking at you captain.” Gaz enters this pointless conversation out of breath gently setting down more boxes.

“I actually think you're the only one here whose age is appropriate for her gaz.” Gaz makes a sound of disagreement.

“Captain 8 years isn’t what you’re making it seem, don't you remember when soap had a girlfriend like 13 years older than him.” The memory flashes through all their minds and ghost has to keep himself from giggling.

“And don’t you remember how it ended.” It was ugly, soap found that when time passes people get older and being 37 with a 50 year old wasn’t what he thought it’d be.

“All I’m saying is I think some romance with a pretty lady like that could do you some good. I mean your living in a home together tension will get to you at some point.” John rolls his shoulders back and sighs.

“Shut up and get back to work, all of you.” The captain says demanding as they all hurry back inside.

But what if?

——————-

“Wow, I don't know when’s the last time I've seen these rooms empty.” You say walking into the office.

“Was it all his?” John says giving you a one up at the change in clothes. You're wearing your pajamas which consist of shorts and a big shirt.

“Yeah it was, when will you be bringing in your own stuff?” You reply quickly changing the topic.

“I actually have all my stuff in my truck, only three boxes, I’m not a man of many possessions.” He laughs Gruffly swiping a hand over his mouth.

“I have clean sheets in my closet if you’ll be needing some.” You offer politely.

“Please.” He says and you nod, turning to go get them.

“I’ll just be bringing in the rest of my belongings.” He says walking down the opposite end of the hallway.

He brings the boxes in one by one, setting them in the office not paying mind to where you could have gone till he brings the last one in and hears you humming in the bedroom putting what were to be his pillows inside pillow cases.

“Oh love you didn’t have too. I've been making my own bed on base for longer than my memory goes back.” His deep voice slightly startles you.

“Sorry, it's just a habit.” You apologize softly and he wonders if it came off the wrong way.

“No, Thankyou is what I really mean.” He says slightly smiling at the floral print sheets that now adorn his bed.

“Sorry these are actually the least feminine looking ones I have.” You smile realizing how silly it looks for a man as manly as the one who stands before you to have blue and pink flower sheets.

“No worries love.” He nods to you.

“Well I'll see you in the morning, goodnight.” You say giving him a small pat on the shoulder and leaving to what he could only assume to be your bedroom.

He got changed for the night, ready to settle into bed. As soon as his head hit the pillows the scent of lavender and a perfume that had to solely be you was invading his senses. Something so feminine and warm and good, god was it good. He turned his head slightly more into the pillow taking a deep breath in and out enjoying it. The more he focused on it the easier the sleep had come and before he knew it he was sleeping like a bear in hibernation.

—————————————-

I’m ready for a new story.

Comments and reposts and greatly appreciated<3

If anyone has thoughts or ideas on how this should go please send them in.

#captain price x female reader #john price #barry sloane #captain john price #john price x reader #john soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #simon ghost riley #task force 141 #cod mw2 #cod mwii #cod modern warfare

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the-californicationist · 4 months

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i did send the same thing to another writer i enjoy bc i love different takes on things, but my little dumpster brain has had one thought in the last 24 hours - imagine confiding in your captain that you'd like to have a baby bc biological clock or whatever, and being in the field really puts a damper on your sex life, so that makes it difficult. but the 141 will do anything for one of their own, so if that means they're running trains and taking turns on you DAILY until it takes (and probably even after 👀), then so be it.

lol... you lit a fuckin' fire with this ask, my friend. hot!!

"The Window" (141/Reader)

You awoke to the soft tinkling noise of his belt and zipper, rattling at the edge of your bed. Your captain, John Price, was answering his call of duty, and within moments, you knew he would slip his fat, flaccid cock between your legs and allow your warmth to make him harden within you. He preferred it this way. First, he would rub you with it, heavy and smooth, smearing your wetness all over his skin. Then, with a singular talent, he would somehow stuff his soft, lolling head into your hole, feeding himself into you gently, letting your body take him in on its own as your pussy pulsed for him, and he would rub your clit absent-mindedly, comforting himself with your swollen lips, sighing raggedly as you covered him up. Once he was hard - and fuck, he was impossibly hard - he would fuck you through your blinding pleasure, his girth giving you burst after burst of hot, searing bliss.

He wasn’t your boyfriend - none of them were - but the members of your task force, the 141, had all agreed to be the father of your child. It had started when Captain Price first saw your appointment on the team calendar. You’d meant to post it privately, but you had failed to do so. He came to you right away, his face full of worry,

“Wha’s goin’ on, Spar? Goin’ to the main base hospital… Wha’s all this about?”

So, you’d told him, a little bashfully, that you were trying to get pregnant. You’d be turning 28 this fall, and you wanted to be a mom, sooner rather than later. Every few weeks, you were shipped off to some too-cold or too-hot locale, getting shot at and flash-banged. There wasn’t really time to find a date, much less convince them that you would make a good mother. The last time you tried to use Tinder, one guy had called you ‘Rambo’ and blocked you, so it wasn’t going well.

“I’ll go with you, little bird. Sounds important.”

“You don’t need to do that, Captain. I’m sure I can take out a loan for it…” You thought out loud, remembering the pamphlet and all of its cost breakdowns for IVF treatments.

“A loan? Last time I checked, love, it was free,” he chuckled.

“Free when you have someone who’d be willing to give it to you, sir,” you challenged him with your confidence, trying not to be ashamed, even of your ‘Rambo’ nickname.

“Sparrow,” he raised his voice and nearly shouted your callsign incredulously in the small mess hall where he’d found you, “There’s no bloody way you don’t have someone willing.”

“Wha’s goin’ on, Cap?” Gaz poked his head in behind the door.

“Nothing,” you tried to stop the literal landslide of embarrassment that was happening to you.

“She wants to have a baby,” Price told him, smiling a bit as your cheeks turned pink.

“A baby?” Gaz commented with no small amount of surprise.

“Who wants a baby?” Simon yelled out from the hallway before opening the door wider and scooting around Gaz to join into the conversation.

“A bairn!?” Soap barged in, slamming the door all the way open and forcing Gaz to tumble into the kitchen.

So, the whole team knew in a matter of moments, but Price kept his word. He drove you to the hospital for your appointment and asked more questions to the doctor than you did. Unfortunately, he heard all of the strictest rules and took them to heart. No cigarettes, no caffeine, plenty of rest and… plenty of exposure to male ejaculate.

There had been a meeting, of which you were not a part, between Price and the other men in your task force, and they had come to a conclusion: they would put a baby in you. It was their singular mission. A bit of back and forth had occurred when you found out their plan.

“Is there… we dinnae want to pressure you, lass, but,” Soap looked around at Ghost, Gaz, and Price before settling back on you, “Are there any of us you wouldnae like to be the father? We willnae take offense.”

“No! I’d be happy to have any of you… I mean… But, I don’t want you to feel like you need to do this if you don’t want to,” you could feel the heat of your shame rising in your cheeks, and you knew you were as red as a lobster. You heard a bit of laughter at your comment and feared the worst. But then, Gaz explained,

“I’m afraid all of us very much want to, Sparrow.”

He had even palmed his growing cock for emphasis.

But, it had to be fair, you decided. There should be a schedule; no favorites. And for the first month, there was. Soap was your Monday, Ghost was Tuesday, Gaz was Thursday, and Price was Friday. But then Price had a meeting and so Soap was Friday, and Price was Saturday. That meant Ghost was Monday. You were in training on Tuesday, so Gaz was Wednesday, but Soap couldn’t do Thursday or Friday because he had to go in for his annual review. So, he joined Gaz on Wednesday, stepping in right after him as if you were a pretty little mailbox and the boys had come to drop off their packages.

When the weekly schedule fell apart, you hung a big calendar in your quarters, and they’d pencil themselves in. That was fine until you had been shipped out to Aqtabi. You’d tried to keep it up while you were in the field, remembering what day was which, but the truth was that sometimes you had no idea if it was morning or night. Was that the sun or a flare?

And sometimes it didn’t matter. Something would happen on a mission, and Price would crawl beneath your scratchy woolen sheet, searching for the comfort of your arms, not saying a word, not even asking you if it was alright, but just taking you there in the cold night of the desert, filling you up and keeping his cock sheathed in you, safe and sound.

And sometimes you needed them, too. Waiting on exfil, huddled together in the pouring rain beneath a sad tarp, you’d crawled into Gaz’s lap, looping your arms around his neck and letting him hold you in a cradle, using his big chest as your pillow. You’d dozed, exhausted, and he’d rubbed himself against you through your clothes, coaxing you to pull down your pants so he could empty himself into your womb, quick and filthy. You remembered how it felt when his come had soaked through your panties as you sat next to him in the helicopter, letting him hold your hand.

You felt a little guilty that you weren’t exactly hoping for a child during those first few months. You were enjoying their affections, no matter how platonic they may have felt.

It didn’t stay that way, though. Soap was the worst offender. When he fucked you, he wanted to spend most of his time eating you out, sucking on your clit with his mouth like a hungry dog, soaking himself in your scent and your flavor before finally mounting you, crawling over your body like the hound that he was, dipping his cock into you and beating your core like a drum. He’d stare into your eyes when he could manage it, and he’d slipped up one day and told you he loved you. That you were his girl, his wee bonnie lass, and that he’d raise the bairn with you, even if it was Black like Gaz, tall like Ghost, or had Price’s big nose. It’d be his and yours. He’d be the daddy you wanted him to be, he promised.

Then, you’d had to deal with Gaz. He’d made dinner reservations at a restaurant near base while he had your legs held up to your chest, helping you wait the twenty suggested minutes for his “lads” to “soak in”. Told you he was just hungry, but he had also happened to buy you a nice dress, and he’d driven you in his sporty little Beamer, bright red and clean as a whistle. He’d fucked you after dinner, sneaking in a double feature, which was expressly against the rules. Told you he couldn’t help himself, and he said he’d been thinking about you all weekend, cock in hand.

Ghost was like his namesake, haunting you all over the place. He found you in the locker room, and decided to fuck you standing up, sweaty from your sparring match. He’d washed you off in the shower, and he’d taken you in there, too, after coaxing you to make him hard again by sucking him off. Ghost would slink by you in the reference room, stalking you through the bookshelves, and dragging you to the storage closet to fuck you on all fours on the floor, maps and looseleaf pamphlets about Russian spy camps under your rosy red knees. He got vocal that night, cramped with his huge body in that tiny closet, telling you what a good girl you were for him, how you fit his fuckin’ cock so perfect, how he’d never want anyone else, how it felt so good to fill your body up with his load.

Then, there was your captain. At first, you weren’t sure he was truly a willing participant. He seemed to avoid you unless he was on the schedule. He didn’t cut in line, and if you were on the couch or in the kitchen with one of the boys, he’d leave you be, smiling at you a bit before grabbing his tea and escaping back to his office. But, then you realized the truth: John Price wanted to put a baby inside of you more than anyone else, and he would go to the ends of the earth to make sure it happened.

“Hey, little bird,” John’s finger pet the side of your cheek as you woke, feeling him pull down your pink silk panties so he could start to warm you up, “I’m your Sunday.”

“Mm,” you rubbed the sleep out of your eye and opened up your legs for him, giving him full access to your body on instinct at this point, “John, we gave up on the schedule. You can come whenever you want. Or, you can stop.”

“Can’t stop,” he kissed your mouth as he leaned over you, and you tasted peppermint and tobacco mixing together with something heady and lustful, “We’re in the window.”

Ah. The Window. All of the boys talked about The Window and when it was coming up next. They’d all downloaded trackers on their phones, watching you like birds of prey for when you ordered a box of tampons, checking with you to see when you were off the rag. And then, you’d be “in the window” of ovulation. Their best chance at succeeding at this mission.

They would fuck you at any time of the month, and Soap and Price would even fuck you through your period, having read in some magazine that there was a small chance of success. But, being in The Window was like covering yourself in honey in the middle of a cave in spring and waking up all the bears inside it. Fertile ground, ripe for the taking.

“Mm, fuck,” you keened. John had two fingers in you now, pressing on your soft spots and stretching your hole. You wrapped a hand around his neck and pulled him in for another kiss, which he moaned into.

“Feel good, Spar? You want to make me hard, pretty bird?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, looking up at him with desperate eyes, “Yeah, I do. Please, John…”

He slipped himself in, half-hard already, and you felt the body of it slide into your core. It was soft, and you liked to squeeze it with your muscles, feeling him writhe inside of you when you did, reveling in his pleasure. He sat back on his heels to let you play with him fully, watching you grind your hips on him as he massaged your clit to its full, swollen height. He was in no rush, and he spoke to you casually.

“Has Kyle been in this weekend?”

“No, it was Soap,” you tried to remember, “And then Ghost, and then Soap again.”

Price chuckled warmly,

“That boy wants a baby so badly.”

You smiled with him, agreeing,

“He does. He interrupted Gaz on Thursday and asked him when he’d be done!”

Price laughed with you then, his eyes gleaming and crinkling at the edges,

“Oh, Christ. He’d be a good one. They’d all be good.”

You watched his mood shift. There was something solemn about it, and you wanted to chase it away. You rubbed your hand along his furry belly, locking your ankles around his hips and shamelessly rocking your hips to fit more of him into you. You confessed,

“You’d be good.”

His eyes found yours again and he stilled, wondering out loud,

“D’you think so, Sparrow?”

“I know so.”

“Can I tell you a secret, little bird?” He whispered, lowering himself into position and stuffing his hard length even deeper inside of you, making you worry just a bit if he could hurt you with that thing.

You nodded, kissing his huge Adam’s apple in his throat and nuzzling through his beard. He told you the whole truth as he pounded himself into you without mercy,

“Sometimes, I wish he would be mine. I wish…” He almost stopped, but he kept going, like a raft in the stream, too caught in the current to go back to the shore, “I wish you could be mine, and then I could rub lotion on your belly when you got big. And I could cook for you when you got tired, and I could read to you, even when he was still inside of you, and I know he could hear my voice. I wish, sometimes, that when it happens, that I’d be the first to know. That you’d tell me first, because you knew it was mine, because you’d want him to be mine.”

You were stunned, and you were coming, and the two were very separate events. As your pussy pulsed and tried to milk him of his come, making you dizzy and almost sick with pleasure, you were shocked by his admission. You grabbed his face and made him look you in your eyes,

“John…” You panted, coming down from your first high of many with Price, “I had no idea you felt that way.”

“I didn’t either,” he smiled, but the corners didn’t reach his eyes.

When he fucked you this morning, you had no idea how good it could feel, but he showed you. He rutted into you, desperately, like some sort of beast, unable to stop himself. It was as if he would fuck himself bloody in you if he had to, and you wanted to take him as best you could. You felt him finally start to come, and he plugged you up with his thickness, shoving himself as deep as he would go, sealing you off and keeping you warm and elevated.

He kept his cock in you, gasping for breath and petting the hair out of your face. He kissed you, cheeks and chin and neck, all the way down to your breasts where he suckled from your nipples, almost dreamlike in the way he was touching you, fully covered in you the entire time.

“Sleep, birdie,” he nuzzled your neck and continued to lave his tongue over your breasts, “I’ll wake you when I’m hard again.”

Part 2

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cordeliawhohung · 4 months

Note

You created a monster in me with underboss!Simon and now you must take responsibility.

Please feed my new addiction with relationship headcanons 😩😩😩. I love him and Shy!reader.

i've created so many monsters y'all gotta stop biting at my ankles or at least start paying rent or smth <3 also i'm still trying to work out a lot of the dynamics of the relationship between them so this is still a little bare boned but i hope you enjoy!

mafia!141 masterlist <3

warnings: mostly fluff :3 simon is a bit of a prick lol, fem!reader,

just in case anyone missed it, this is how underboss!Simon and shy!Reader meet <3

it takes a brutally long time for the two of you to start dating. a brutally long time.

and it isn't for lack of trying on Simon's end. he manages to get your number somehow (i hear Soap is very tech savvy...) and asks you out the week after the dinner at John's house, only for you to decline.

which is fine. he can take rejection. but this is... different. you're too kind when you say no. you're not saying it because you think you're too good for him, you're saying it because of something else, and Simon can tell the difference but can't exactly tell what it is.

it drives him nuts for a long time. you were supposed to be just another number in his phone for a booty call. he's used to getting pretty much anything he wants, after all, but even then it shouldn't have bugged him as much as it did. maybe it was because he liked the way you looked at him. not with disgust. not with some lustful intention. you were... soft. kind, even.

as for you? you think it's crazy how this 6'4", ripped, and kind guy showed interest in you. you, someone too anxious for her own good, someone who said no because it was less scary than committing to something. and you hate yourself for rejecting him.

so in an effort to stay close to him, you text him pretty often. you send him pictures of things you see or run into during your day. something funny at work, a cool rock you found in someone's garden, the spider that decided to make its home in your shower. and sweetheart, you have no idea what you're doing to the poor man ):

this goes on for a long while. just simon being a stupid man, not wanting to push your boundaries after you already rejected him, and you being too anxious to fix things and ask him yourself.

eventually, by some miracle (that i might write more about later because like i said BARE BONES) the two of you get together. and it's... interesting. simon isn't really used to dating. like properly. he's used to buttering a girl up, going back to her place for a quick fuck, and then only seeing her whenever either of them are too bored and horny to function. but with you it's nothing like that at all. there's no sex on the first date, not even a damn kiss, and he finds himself craving you more than ever because of it. wanting to be around you all the time, wanting to hear about your day.

man is fucking obsessed.

he treats you like a princess. he only ever really spent his money on stupid shit but now he can spend it on you! you never ask for anything, but god forbid if you express that anything, be it clothes or otherwise, looks cute because he will buy it for you, no matter how awkward you are at receiving gifts.

also! because he's so big and somewhat brutish, no one fucks with you when you're in public together. annoying kiosk clerks trying to aggressively sell you something? one look from him and they're gone. someone messed up your order but you're too anxious to ask them to fix it? he's advocating for you.

because of him, you find yourself growing less afraid and anxious of things. he teaches you how to be brave, and you teach him how to be soft. there's nothing in the world that he wouldn't do for you <3

oh also btw he's in the mafia. he might have forgotten to mention that... hope that doesn't freak you out or anything. don't worry about the blood on his shirt or the bruises on his face or the cuts on his arms or... oh god you look like you're going to cry. it's nothing, sweetheart! promise! stop trying to take him to the hospital!

also, some sorta unrelated comments: i think shy!reader is def a hostess at a restaurant. i feel like simon would hang out at the restaurant too just to be around you. he'd also slip you a tip, even though you tell him you make hourly and don't depend on tips.

"consider it my way of saying thanks for sitting us at the table with the best view."

the view is you, btw.

AHHH i'm sorry this was such a mess? i have so many jumbled thoughts but i'm glad i was able to get some of them out and i hope they were somewhat enjoyable al;kdjf i'll be working on a short drabble/oneshot for him over the weekend, so i'm hoping that'll make up for this <3

#mafia!simon #mafia!141 #simon riley x reader #simon ghost x reader #ghost x reader

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halcyone-of-the-sea · 7 months

Note

Hal congrats on the 5k you absolutely deserve it.

I have a request for the 5k event so here it is

The reader is John's wife who's 9 months pregnant and basically about to burst. Reader goes into Labour while John is out on the field.

Again congratulations on 5k you absolutely deserve every single follower since your Storys are just chefs kiss. I'm very glad i found your blog when i did!

—Here Now

⇢ ˗ˏˋ 5k Drabble Masterlist ࿐ྂ

╰┈➤ ❝ [He nearly misses one of the most important moments of your lives together.] ❞

You had told him you would be fine, and, of course, John knew he could take your word—even if over these nine months he’d been more worried than he had been in his entire life. It would have been difficult for you to say how you were truly feeling about being home alone two days past your due date with no one but the birds outside to give you company.

He had been up at arms about being with you through this, and the man’s stubbornness about that fact had made your face go soft with love. John was the most loyal man you’d ever met; add in a child on the way and he became no better than a hound baying at the scent of a fox. But this had apparently been so important that he’d asked you about the idea of being away for a day—a single day, the man had emphasized, even if the others had to stay wherever they were going for longer. He’d take the red-eye back the second after the time was up, a whole military Heli and all.

One day was far better than one week—far better than one month. So, you’d agreed albeit a bit reluctantly as the man reassured you he’d be back safe and whole. He’d be back for the birth.

Yeah, that was a load of bullshit.

You lay in the hospital room, panting and trying to keep your eyes open as the contractions hit once more; a whimper hidden as you bend your neck forward to let your chin hit your chest.

“Shit,” you breathe, the nurse moving out of the room quickly to grab more water and the doctor for you.

This had been going on for a good four hours—levels of shaking pain that lasted upwards of a minute and had been increasing in frequency more so in the last sixty minutes. They’d finally had you lay back on the bed only a little bit ago, and you knew at that point that John would be unable to make it for the birth of your first child.

The thought terrified you.

You place a hand on your stomach and blink down at it, the raised half of the bed behind you and the chill of the room making you shiver. The buzz of the lights—the closed windows. Your heart is running not only from the thought of this, of all that could go wrong, but also because you now lacked the most steady rock you’d had in your entire life: John. He’d know what to tell you to make you calm down, to make your mind stop with all the panic.

But he’s not here, and that alone makes you want to—

The door opens so quickly it nearly busts off of its hinges.

Your heart sputters, head jerking back as you wince from another contraction, this one far more painful and promising to stay for longer. Closer now. But your eyes blink on something more important.

“I’m here, Love.” As if a phantom, John hurries through, a gaggle of wide-eyed nurses behind him before the door to your room is shut by firm hands. “Fuckin’ hell, Sweetheart, I’m ‘ere, it’s alright.”

He’s still in his gear—lacking weapons as those had probably been tossed away on Base—but vest and hat are present; the large boots with tucked pants and that compression shirt. You watch in shock as he speeds up to the side of your bed, taking your hand in his large one and squeezing. His other grabs the motion-less chair and drags it over with a grunt.

“Now,” John says, shaking his head at you as you simply stare. “You squeeze my hand as hard as you well please then, yeah? Don’t care if you break a few fingers, Love, I’ve been through worse.”

“How…” You mutter, tears welling in your eyes. “How did you…?”

He blinks those tiny blues at you, twitching his nose as his gaze darts down your body.

“Had a feeling,” is all he says.

You laugh through a sob and he presses his forehead into yours, hand on the base of your skull.

“I’m here right now,” he utters. “Gonna have to have a few words with the little Muppet when they’re out about timing. Nearly made me bloody miss it.”

“John Price,” you scolded lightly, laughing.

He only hums and tries to hide his wide grin, eyes shimmering.

By the time it’s all over, he holds the both of you to his vest-less top as he leans back beside your bare dewy skin, the small bundle kept to your chest with its gripping hands. John’s arm was around your shoulders, drawing you to him. You had fallen asleep not minutes prior, and the soldier kept watch as he always had when his girl was needing him.

Well, girls now.

He watches, not speaking, barely breathing, only pulling you closer to him as you sigh and shift. The baby, his and yours baby, gargles and kicks her little feet until he shifts a hand to assist your own in cupping her higher. His smile is uncontainable, just like the sudden glossiness to his eyes at such a tiny weight in his grip.

John watches, and he comes to a conclusion as he presses a deep kiss into your scalp, his thumb taken into the smallest grip that has ever held it.

There was never a more beautiful sight than the one right in front of him.

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ravengards-rogue · 2 months

Text

i thought of you so often.

arthur morgan x reader.

✧ tags : fem!reader (gendered language, explicit use of she/her in reference to reader), children / planning on children, generally sappiness, fluff, au where nothing bad happens to arthur hdskjsdkfhsj.

✧ wc : 2.4k (???)

✧ a/n : arthur morgan.... save me arthur morgan....also not a super original thought but i can't Stop thinking about it.

✧ synopsis : a collection of love letters, all unfinished, tucked somewhere you aren't meant to find them. oh, arthur loves you more than you knew.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖˚☽˚｡⋆

You try to keep out of Arthur's belongings.

He's owed some privacy, for one. More than that, you've never felt any reason to look into it. Arthur isn't a man of many words, though you catch moments of his introspection should you pry. He isn't stoic, neither. And above all things, he's kind. Really truly kind in a way that makes him different from other men.

You don't have any complaints about him is what you mean. Unlike the men you've loved before, there are no short-comings of Arthur that would drive you to wanting to investigate his own personal things. Especially something so personal like his journals, prior or present.

On top of that, you were there with him through everything. You were part of the gang and stayed by him when it all fell apart. It was towards the end of that that Arthur came to you near frenzied, told you his plans, his thoughts. Confided in you and no less than begged to go with him where he ran.

You loved Arthur enough to stay, and so things ended - and you ran. There isn't much his journal could tell that you couldn't surmise on your own.

It's been years now, and you've long since left that life. You live with Arthur quietly, peaceful in the moments with a garden and kitty sweet as sugar.

It's a good life. An honest, quiet one sometimes to the point of being boring. You rarely miss the action, though occasionally you'll take up a bounty just to feel alive and make some money.

Mostly though, you live as unassuming folk. No bloodshed, no wardens, no gunslinging.

Been talk between you both about having a baby, recently. Serious talk. You've made some money between here and there, and you've got a good life. You've traveled too. But it gets a little lonely, and you don't really get your fill with just Jack when John and Abi are ways away.

Before anything like that, though - you need to clear some space. Empty out some belongings and things collecting dust. Living in one place for too long creates all sorts of mess, you find. When Arthur is home to help, he does - but he's been busy lately figuring something out with Charles. Some business venture related to ranching that you know nothing about so far. They'll tell you when its ready.

Usually when you're tidying, you keep to just your things, or your shared things - but Arthur has lived more life than you. It shows in that big closet space filled with nick-knacks he has yet to toss.

You'd mentioned it to him not too long ago and he'd given you permission to go through them.

(A kiss to your forehead from chapped lips and hands holding your waist, Arthur hums in acknowledgement as you ask his permission.

"Ain't nothing I gotta hide from you. Do whatever you need.)

But like you said - you try to keep your nose out of his business if it's not necessary for you to be in it in anyway.

You weren't trying to look through his things, really. You started cleaning, worked your way to that last box. Up on a shelf in his closet, a little too high for you to reach easily. You made a misstep and dropped the damn thing. It barely missed your head as the whole thing fell open, and out came journals and papers and photographs.

You've always known Arthur to be sentimental, so none of it has been particularly surprising. A photo of wolves and him on a horse, the picture from John and Abigail's engagement. Some other scraps of sentimental value.

And then there was a journal. Not Arthur's journal that he's always using, but another you've never seen before. You know Arthur journals, seen the thing plenty though you never look unless he shows you first.

A journal with a dark brown stained leather binding, fallen open and your name scrawled out in pencil lead at the top of it.

The curiosity got the better of you, okay? Not your damn fault.

So you're thinking on it.

The fabric of your skirt is pooled out underneath you as you hold the thing in your hands, sitting down on the ground surrounded by things. You've stowed away everything else that fell out from the box after ensuring it was intact, including Arthur's journals. Everything with the exception of the one you're holding.

Some guilt eats at you. You don't wanna upset him potentially by having looked. Even if he gave you permission, looking in the damn thing is a little different. But your name was there so clearly, and well - you didn't think he wrote about you. Apart from here and there, maybe.

You hold the book out in front of you with a sigh, looking fondly at his name ingrained in the leather. You press your forehead against it with, resigning yourself completely.

"Lord forgive my pryin'," You mumble, hoping it's enough to absolve you.

Your heart feels funny as you let your fingers trace over the hard edge of the front cover, one eye shut as you start to open it slow.

The first few pages are nothing special.

A page outlining who the journal belongs to and when it was started, and some doodles of yarrow and oleander. The pages after that filled with mundane entries. About people he met or things he saw, all endearing to you. The corners of your lips tug up slightly.

You really love this man helplessly.

You flip through a few more pages, many of them blank before writing starts to appear again. Little by little, you find passages. You look to the dates up at the corner (though not all of them have one) and trace the timeline. This is from all the way back in Horseshoe Overlook.

It feels like ages ago now.

You look at a page with no date, and reading the writing in it. There's doodles of flowers and trees along the bottom of the page. The words are easy enough to make out - because Arthur has the most unusually beautiful handwriting.

There's some entries about you. At first, they all include your name in some context. Mentioned in the same way Arthur might mention Hosea or Abigail. The further you go, the less you see it. The more you become her and she.

It's a trend. The longer you read, the less there is about anyone else. Just you and all your silly idiosyncrasies tucked between pages. Something lovestruck and foolish lights its match in you.

Saw a body hanging at the tracks at Valentine. A gruesome sight. I told her about it and she laughed. Asked me to take her to see it. A strange woman, by all accounts.

You feel yourself smile a little as you continue to flip through the pages.

She joined me riding into town today. Said she had some business to attend but would not tell me any details. After, she came with me to purchase a new gun. I engraved a snake into it's handle, per her request.

Another few pages littered with drawings of delicate berries and waterfalls before you stumble across more writing. The more you flip, the longer the passages become you.

You can't tear your eyes away.

Rained today. Nothing too terrible or worth mentioning, except that she nearly caught a cold playing in it. I brought her coffee to keep her warm, but could not scold her further upon seeing her delight.

Another passage, this time written with messier hand writing. A coffee stain splatters on the white of the page.

Your heart tugs on itself. Swells about a thousand sizes. To think he wrote so much of your time together between these pages.

You read and read and read - and each passage is a little more mundane at the last. Some pages go on in vivid detail, but others are so short you aren't sure what to make of the fact he wrote them at all. As if such little details were important enough to keep in mind.

I picked a flower for her. I thought it would suit her taste. It was white with delicate petals. I did not know the name.

She wore it in her hair this evening. I find I can't stop grinning.

One passage on the next few pages, longer than the rest, catches your eye. From later in your time together, written when you were in Leymone. Near Scarlett Meadows and before the mess in Saint Denis.

After Arthur had been kidnapped.

I have gone on and on about the business with Colm O'Driscoll in many entries before this one. Yet, I find it difficult to forget. Many times I have come close to death, and still no experience lingers on my mind quite like this one. Everyone has done their best to look after me. For that I am grateful, though I do not care for being looked after. What use am I like this, I wonder? Perhaps, I should simply be grateful to be alive and in one piece, if a little uglier than I was. Alongside Miss Grimshaw and Miss Tilly, she has been by my side while I recovered. Such a carefree woman and yet I have seen her cry and weep over me countless times in the last few weeks alone. The decent man in me is apologetic for causing sorrow. Perhaps, it is the outlaw in me that feels some strange relief or satisfaction. Her fussing does not give me any grief. If anything, I find myself all the more endeared. Such a decent woman does not belong in a place like this. I hope she is able to go somewhere far away and live peacefully. I am not so shameless to want anything more. The time together we have spent, I will make sure to cherish.

Something painful and pitiful tugs at your heart. Even when Arthur admitted his feelings for you, he had started it on a similar tangent. You tell him often that you're the one who feels out of bounds with him. That a man as decent and as honest as him often feels like too much for you to have so easily.

A tear slips from your eye and you laugh at your own sentimentality, wiping it away before it can splatter onto the pages.

The further you read, the more sporadic entries become. You find that there are pages filled with sketches of you, but many of them are scratched out or half erased - like he did not find them good enough. Of your side profile, of your hands, of you pointing at a target with a gun. You feel a strange feeling of love wash over you.

Instead of concrete thoughts, you're met with Arthur's abstract. Subtle complexities and studies. There's honest tenderness in the way he sketches you and the words he chooses to caption each with. Lighter, thinner lines. Smaller doodles like stray daydreams caught onto a page.

You've never doubted Arthur in his love for you, quiet man he is - but it proves to overwhelm when presented to you in such a way.

You get to back pages. There, you're finally met with more writing. Except, instead of journal entries, there's the start of letters. You find your name at the top of the page.

Over and over. Love letters, all unfinished or scrapped. Written over and over and over, but not completed. There's tens of them at least. You've never received a love letter from Arthur before, though it's nothing you fault him for.

Now you're almost glad. You like this much better.

My darling girl My muse The better half of me, I must find some way to tell you all of what I think of you. It seems no words do it justice, I'm afraid. Still, it is in my best interest to try.

Damn that man.

When you find yourself starting to weep, you don't fight the feeling. You merely shut the book closed and set it in your lap before crying into your hands.

Such overwhelmingly happy tears. You feel off balance. If the whole world turned on its head this very minute, you're unsure you'd notice. What a decent, honest man you've come to love. What a tender one.

In the middle of your crying, you don't hear the door open or close. Nor do you hear Arthur's heavy footfall until he's in the doorway, with a voice worried half to death.

"Sweetheart, what in the hell?"

You turn your head to look at him, watching his eyes widen at your tear stained face. You clamber to your feet hurriedly, book dropping onto the ground next to you as you throw yourself at him as soon as you can.

Arthur is a steady enough man not to stumble when you do, though you can feel his apprehension. Eventually, he circles his arms around your waist. His hugs are strong. Bout strong as him and then some. An arm wrapped around your waist, the other crossed over your back all around your shoulder. Full pressure as he squeezes you tight, patting the back of your head.

"I leave you alone for a few hours. What has gotten into you, little lady?"

You pull back and and look at him, wet lashes and all, before leaning up to kiss him. Arthur meets your lips chastely at first before making a noise of surprise as you kiss him further. You use both hands to grab his face as you do, scruff scratching against your skin. His lips are soft, welcoming. He melts into the touch, so easily - blue eyes lovestruck as you pull away.

"You know I love you, don't you Arthur? More than anyone in this crazy world we live in,"

His face softens visibly. He smiles at you, touching his head to yours.

"Somehow, I do. Though, I'm wonderin' what the hell brought this on."

You tuck your face against his chest, feeling his laughter reverb through you at the way you cling to him so fervently. You sniffle as you talk.

"Found your journal. The one about me,"

He goes stiff, then silent. When you look up again, he's blushing red. He pinches his brow.

"Lord, I'd forgotten all about it,"

You shake your head.

"Ain't nothing for you to be embarrassed about. You are so wonderful,"

He pouts at you. Your heart swells. "You ain't helping with the embarrassment."

You hold him further. Hug him so tight, worried he'll disappear if you don't.

"I love you, Arthur."

"You already told me once, didn'tcha?"

"And I'll tell you one thousand times over," You emphasize, pouting at him. "Really. I love you,"

"I love you too sweetheart," His hand cups your face, thumb brushing along your waterline. "Don't cry no more. Spoils that pretty face."

"I'll try but I don't know if it's all out of me,"

Arthur laughs, pressing a kiss against your hairline. "Guess I'll just have to wipe your tears."

.𖥔 ݁ ˖˚☽˚｡⋆

#zero.writes #rogues love letters #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan fluff #rdr2 x reader #rdr2 fluff #red dead redemption x reader #this is so lovesick and silly i feel so miserable #I AM A JOHN GIRL. BUT. well that deadbeat father and bastard isnt gonna write you love letters like arthur im afraid

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evilminji · 2 months

Text

You know what's my JAM?

Extremes being treated as the Serious Dangers they ARE, even when they aren't "oooh its a spooky Grey morality and BADness!" Extreme.

Like? No, people. ALL of them are bad. They are ALL face melting dangerous. The void may crush your soul, but look upon the Face Of GOD? Not gonna be having a fun time! Doesn't MATTER if he's a cool dude! Face melting!

We are creatures of BALANCE. Tiny, fragile, little motes of dust. That can only exsist in the careful, blended, dances of territories and powers that be. We squishy.

Ghosts? Less squishy.

Poor impulse control, too. Especially ones with Fenton genetics. ABSOLUTELY ones with Fenton genetics and a trauma based aversion to therapy. That one? Pretty hardy. Made pretty tough, what with being Fates third favorite chew toy. But? Still gets the Sads, you know? The slightly longer then just seasonal depression.

Would medicine and some therapy help? Oh like a dream!

If medicine WORKED on his Ectoplasmicly contaminated ass. And he TRUSTED therapists.

But... surely, Danny thinks, as he sits grossly in his Depression sweatpants and eats suspect pizza on the floor of his moldering shoebox of an apartment, there must be SOME way to address his Depression? He should... he should DO something about it. Take a break maybe. Look up some ghost doctors or something.

.....

Oooooooooor..... >.>

He could break out that OMENIOUS af, bound in suspect leather, Big Book Of Forbidden Knowledge(TM) that he got from Pariah's.... what, fourth? Fifth? Library? Fuck that Lair is huge. He's STILL cleaning it out and it's been over half a decade. He swears it spawns more floors just to mock him. Bastard. Don't know HOW a building can be a Bastard, but it sure found A WAY.

Anyway!

Book it is! *horrifying Eldritch light as he opens it* huh. Neat. Comes with its own visual effects. *another bite of suspect pizza* Funky.

And so! Danny, the depressed King Of The Zone... fucks of to go cheer himself up in the Fields Of Bliss(TM), an area of Absolute Bliss. Which! Sounds GREAT in theory, now don't it? Lovely even.

Remember that little comment about extremes?

You can ENTER those fields. But no one leaves. No one CAN. The deeper you go? The more doomed you become. Less will to do anything at all. Eat, talk, move. So much as think. Like ALL extreme "Goods", it sounds lovely, but the reality is no gentle little thing.

It's a glue trap.

But how could Danny have known? Honestly, who would have TAUGHT him? Textbooks can only go so far, after all. And placing blame will not rescue the young monarch.

I imagine it's one of his helpers that pieces together what's happened. Come for further clarification on WHERE exactly he wants certain statues moved. Only? Your Majesty? Your Majesty...? Where ever could he BE? Oh? He's left out some of his books. Well, I'll just assist by putting them away for-.....

Oh.

OH ANCIENTS, NO.

But! What can the poor man DO? Ghosts are Beings of Will, Emotion, and Obsession. Were it some sort of Holy Blade or Sentient Tree, you know, something INDIVIDUAL with a will they could FIGHT? Oh no problem. But an area of effect? Especially an EMOTIONAL area of effect!? Ooooooh, this is bad. The Zone can't AFFORD to lose ANOTHER King!

We JUST GOT THIS ONE!!!

Wait. He's heard that there's an organization for this! That loudly cursing fellow who got violently thrown back into the Zone. "Ruined his fun" and all that! Perfect! He'll just hire THEM!

Smashcut? To a nice, peaceful, everybody's screaming Justice League Meeting. John's cursing life, extremely hungover. Zatana still has three cracked ribs. Wonder Woman is enjoying the new sword she... liberated... mid battle. Truely stunning craftsmanship. When?

Knock Knock!

Heads swivel. There... is a glowing green... accountant? Dandy? Dandy accountant. With an equally radioactive day glow green Actual Pirate's Chest Of Treasures, floating next to him. In the void of space; Just beyond the glass. What, the, fuuuuuu-

He seems to be under the impression they are some sort of Heroic mercenaries. And has come to request the retrieve-

"NNNNNOPE! Pariah can SHOVE it!" Snarls a suddenly very awake John Constantine, sitting up straight for the first time in hours. The rest of Dark grimly nod in agreement. Let the fucker rot. It's a kinder fate then he deserves.

No, no, NO! King PHANTOM! Pariah's SUCCESSOR by right of combat! They are not, and were never, allied in any way!

Well, all right then. Road trip to save a young idiot then.

@the-witchhunter @hdgnj @hypewinter @lolottes @mutable-manifestation @nerdpoe

#dpxdc #dp x dc #dc x dp #dcxdp #dc x dp prompt #minji's writing

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krypticcafe · 3 months

Note

i wanna know how u think 141 + König & Alejandro would react/feel about reader doing this trend with them, ofc reader doesn't upload it or anything they just record it for fun :]

if the link doesn't work the trend is basically a person is putting on lipstick and they "mess up" and their s/o wipes it off for them and the camera pans to their s/o covered in kissmarks

this has been on my mind for a while i think its so sweet 🥲 i lovelovelove ur writing!! its so good lik oml <33

Lipstick trend w/COD:MWII men

rating: teen

character(s): Kyle "Gaz" Garrick, John Price, John "Soap" MacTavish, Simon "Ghost" Riley, Gary "Roach" Sanderson, Hound König, Alejandro Vargas / GN!Reader

warning(s): language, suggestiveness

wordcount: ~1.6k

summary: Silly little lipstick trend with your silly little military boyfriend.

a/n: the money I'd pay to kiss these men dizzy.

Gaz

Knew about the trend for a while, was wondering if you'd do it, so it's not much of a surprise when you come to him asking about it.

Honestly, he thinks it's a little cheesy, but he's not so insecure that he doesn't want to do it, he's happy to make you happy.

Literally won't stop teasing you like "You sure you're doing this just for the trend?" when you're smooching him all over his face.

When you're done, you can't but stare for a bit.

"What, too pretty for words, love?"

"Shut up, Garrick."

"Make me."

Now his lips are a bright red to match yours<3

The recording goes pretty smoothly, but by the end of it, Gaz can be seen bursting into giggles which in turn makes you giggle a little until the recording cuts off.

You guys don't post it publicly, but I like to think Gaz posted a screenshot of when the two of you are in frame, looking at each other with goofy smiles.

Price

The last person you'd expect to be up with any trends, but it's alright, you're here to help him!

He's hesitant, only because he's a bit bashful! When it comes to these silly little recordings and any of your playful schemes, he gets a little shy about it.

But if you really bat your eyes, pout a little, maybe even tug on his sleeve...

"Please? Just this once, sweetheart?"

He sucks in a deep breath. He's a captain for Christ's sake, he's resisted things worse than this, and no amount of hellish torture has ever made him crack in the slightes-

"Pretty please? For me, Johnny?"

What was he thinking about again?

He sits there while you practically bounce in your spot while you lather on thick layers of lipstick, wondering if this will haunt him.

But all his bashfulness goes out the window when you cup his face oh-so-gently, smother him with kisses, giggling about how ticklish his facial hair is, how it nearly messes you up, how you smile proudly at your work and at him.

You swear you won't post it because you know he can't risk his reputation as a captain... but you also know nothing is stopping you from bringing it up every now and then to him.

Pulling up the pictures and videos, smugly grinning and ogling them while he groans at how smug you are.

Real proud of that one, aren't you?

Soap

"So basically for the trend I just need to put on some lipstick, kiss yo-"

"Say less."

Literally he doesn't care what he has to do, this man wants his kisses.

He'll be all "You missed a spot" when you're applying the marks on his face.

Your guys' version of the trend is a little different.

Instead, the video starts with you putting on lipstick, Soap takes it, commenting how the shade would look good on him, applying it on his lips before smothering you with kisses in the video, leaving the two of you all covered in lipstick stains.

After you wiped your face off, you notice Soap hasn't.

He's just staring smugly at the mirror, rubbing his chin, talking about how "Y'know, I think this actually looks good on me" and "Think I'll keep it on for today, yeah?"

"Honey, you can't go out like that."

"An' why not? I'm jus' wearin' makeup."

"Don't be a smartass- hey! Get back here MacTavish!"

Every day that man tests your patience, but you wouldn't have it any other way.

Ghost

"You won't budge until I say yes?"

You're sitting on his lap on the bed, keeping him still, batting your eyes with faux innocence. He could lift you off if he wanted, but he doesn't, and that alone is enough of an answer for you.

"Nope."

He's trying to pretend so much that he doesn't care too much about it, that he's just letting you do whatever you want. Obviously, he's just playing along.

However, it isn't until you kiss that particular spot of his neck just right under his jaw where the stubble stops that it escalates.

"Oh? Is the lieutenant feeling ticklish?" You coo.

"'m not ticklish-" He's cut off by more kisses peppered around the area and a few extra on his face.

"Mhm, really, because," You're giggling in between your words, "When I kiss you here," He forces the fakest cough he's ever made when you kiss the same spot against, nipping it slightly. All he can do is lean back into the couch, leg bouncing impatiently, trying to bite back a chuckle or two until he finally cracks. The two of you are in a quiet fit of snickers and giggles until you finally let up.

After making the video, you silently gush over it, replaying it over and over. There's a hint of redness on his cheeks, and his eyes seem to flicker from you to the camera, it's the most flustered you've ever seen him be and you got it all on tape, lucky you.

Roach

"That's so dumb, of course I wanna do it."

Roach is all for goofy little couples trends, so it's nothing new if you ask him to do another.

"Babe, stay still would you?" You pout, "I'm gonna have to start over if you keep squirming!"

"Mmm, I think I'd like that."

"Of course you would." Rolling your eyes, you pinch his cheek and he yelps, apologizing and letting you continue. He really can't help it though, it's really ticklish for him.

It takes maybe three tries for you to get the video right, ending with one where Gary messed up your makeup for you by swooping in to give you a sloppy smooch and clumsily wiping it only to further smear it while in a fit of giggles. He claims you were taking too long so he put matters in his own hands.

"So when do I get to do you?"

"What are you talking about, that's all there is- Gary!"

"Nuh-uh, c'mere!"

Hound

He's confused as ever but agrees to it on a whim since he's often entertaining your needs and wants anyways.

As you settle on his lap, his hands rest on your sides and he looks up at you with affectionate eyes. He was looking at you like that when you were putting on your lipstick, too. You almost don't want to ruin his pretty little face, but at the same time, you think it'd look so much prettier with your kisses all over it<3

His eyes close and he stays still while you mark his face all over, even when your lips tickle sensitive spots like his scars. Patient as ever.

When you pull away, he looks like such a doll for you. Your hands cup his face and his lashes flutter open, showing those big brown eyes still giving you the same adoring look, and your chest is basically hammering. He can probably hear it, too. He reaches up to hold your hands and presses his lips against the knuckles. You swear your heart just stopped.

"Everything alright, sugar?"

Oh fuck, what were you supposed to be doing?

"Mhm." You nod frantically, face burning while his thumb brushes over a knuckle, "Y-You know, maybe we can just... tonight... haha... holdmeplease?"

Yeah... you never did quite get your video.

König

"What, with me?" He asks, bewildered.

"Of course?? Who else am I going to do it with? Oh sure, let me call up Horangi, I bet he'll be happy to-"

"Nonono! I want to do it!"

Moments later, he's sitting on the edge of your bed, hood off, fidgeting awkwardly, and watching you quietly. Now you know what he meant when they told him he couldn't stay still for the life of him.

"König, honey, you act like I'm going to hurt you or something." You chuckle, popping your lips as you apply your lipstick in the mirror. He wasn't even this skittish in bed so what had him all jittery?

Setting your hands on his shoulders, you reassure him with a kiss first on the forehead. "Relax, I just want to take a video, that's all."

"Sorry schatz, I'll behave." He hums, easing up at your touch and you smile, planting kisses all over. It seems he just didn't know what exactly he was in for.

You show him how he looks on your phone, "Thoughts?"

"Not bad..." He attempts to wipe off the marks, but you swat his hand away from him.

"You think we're done, mister?"

"Huh?" Practically pouncing on him, you cut him off with a hungry kiss, hovering your body over his. What, he didn't seriously think all you wanted was a video, did he?

Alejandro

He snickers, "If you just wanted my attention, you could've asked."

"I'm serious, Alejandro, it's a thing!" You beam, pointing to the videos on your phone.

He jokingly dismisses your claim and settles onto his office chair, looking at you expectantly. You're confused for a moment, what was he staring at you for?

"Are we going to do this or not? Don't tell me it was actually an excuse now, mi vida."

"No!" You blurt, though now you're debating if you should do this or just leave him waiting with how much he wants to tease you. Then again, you can't pass up this opportunity.

While applying your makeup, you can spot him quietly admiring you in the corner of his eye, and it nearly throws you off your game.

As you kiss him, he keeps his eyes on you, a grin on his lips. Not for a single moment does he tear his attention away from you, instead pointing at a few spots for you to mark.

"I got it, I got it," You huff, mumbling to yourself, "You're certainly enjoying this, colonel..."

Post-production, when you get up to wipe off your lips, he looks at you with offense, "What, that's it?"

"Yes..?"

"Nonono, I think we need to do it again, my way, this time." He snickers, pulling you in by the waist.

"Your way? Alejandro!" You whine without fighting back as he pulls you in for a longer kiss, all your protests forgotten.

a/n: homies i kinda regret writing this so close to valentine's day haha...

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eatmyassssssssz · 5 months

Text

Captain John Price

warnings : age gap implied

tags : @lillianastuff @mysticalgalaxysalad @mionacaped @madamemelancholysstuff @mactavishwritings @chaos-reigns-bitches @scribblescubbs @wandasbitch22 @warzxx @wretched-horn-monger @yippeerrrs @applbottmjeens @bowieisbored @blingblong55 @simonrileyscockring

old man price who struggles to come, he can get it up, but he struggles to come, takes him ages.

hes retired by the military by now, youre his little house husband/wife.

you started to realise you guys have sex a lot less. and when you do, its not really sex. he doesnt get anything out of it. he always makes you come, then goes straight to aftercare.

you worry, maybe he's stopped being attracted to you as he got older. maybe his taste has changed.

you overthink one night, hes fast asleep next to you, snoring. you cant sleep, youre trying not to be too loud with your crying and hyperventilating so you dont awaken your husband (although, nothing could wake up that damn man).

then, you snap. you shake him. until he wakes up. you needed to ask him why he wouldnt have sex with you, when he had a pretty high sex drive a year ago!

was it because you put on a pound or two because of christmas incoming?

either way, hes awake, sat up, half asleep, looking at his partner, having a borderline panic attack next to him.

"whats-, whats wrong?" he says, hurriedly rubbing his eyes to get the sleep out him eyes at least a little.

"why dont you like me anymore!" bit blunt, but you weren't thinking very straight right now, you needed answers, and now.

no matter what the answer was, you needed closure. you needed something to let you decide what you needed to do.

was the "problem" you, or did he just fall out of love?

"what- what do you even mean?" he genuinely did not get what you meant.

"youve not had proper sex with me in ages!" you say, rushed, words not going through your head properly.

his face fades. a soft pink spreads up his neck and ears. "so, its about that.." he mutters.

"am i not attractive enough for you to fuck me anymore? you make me come, then skip the part when you get off, and we go straight to aftercare!" tears were rushing down your face, you hiccuped as you spoke.

"babe- its not you, its me." he says, face in his palm.

"please- nonono, i cant afford for us to split up! i love you- and, and- i dont have any qualifications, i didnt go to college so we could be together forever, john!" your head was rushing to conclusions, your breathing was fast, choked and panicked.

"no! nono, i dont want to split up- i...what i meant was, i literally- it is me thats the problem. i can't- yknow...come." his voice was low, his fingers were massaging his temples, his face was red with embarrassment over this.

"...youre joking? thats why we've not had sex? i thought you were fucking someone else and had nothing left for me or something!" you were relieved, to say the least. "no- babe, i would never."

you nod. "i know- i just..overthink." you admit. he nods. "im aware.." you smile softly. he did know you well. "so..you cant come?" you ask.

he mumbles a response, "i can- just takes...a while...yknow? i can still get hard like i used too- just...not come easily." you smirk hearing that. "so...its possible you can come, just takes a minute?"

"yup."

"..you wanna try that theory?"

#cod #cod mwii #cod mw fanfiction #price cod #price #john price #captain price #captain john price #call of duty fanfic #cod fanfic #captain john price x reader #captain john price x you #captain johnathan price #john price smut #john price x reader #john price x you

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ur-local-anti-hero · 1 month

Text

Speak now (Marauders' version) Masterlist

Hi! this is the first time I'm posting in the Marauders fandom, and as my formal application I decided to write a series of different one-shots and drabbles based on Speak now :)

Therefore I present to you: Speak now (Marauders' version), in which each song has its own piece of writing for a diffent marauders era character.

Here is the masterlist, I'll be uploading it weekly, (at least once a week). First piece of writing will be up tomorrow.

Some clarifications: reader is fem! unless stated differently. English is not my first lenguage, so some mistakes are bound to happen, if you spot any don't hesitate to politely reach out.

If you want to be added to the taglist send me a message or ask!

Mine - Remus x reader

Remus swears he's never been more in love. "Flash forwards and we're takin' on the word together, and there's a drawer of my thing at your place" "You are the best thing, That's ever been mine" Domestic fluff

Sparks fly - Sirius x Pure blood Slytherin!reader + What happened after.

Dating a Black was not the problem, the problem was that is Sirius, a known bloodtraitor. “I run my fingers through your hair and watch the lights go wild. Just keep on keeping your eyes on me, it's just wrong enough to make it feel right” Hurt/comfort

Back to december - Remus x reader

Remus feels like he will regret that night the rest of his life, the marauders convince him to do something about it. “So this is me swallowing my pride standing in front of you, Saying I'm sorry for that night" It turns out freedom ain't nothing but missing you. Wishing I'd realized what I had when you were mine” Hurt comfort, second chance romance

Speak now - James x Malfoy!reader

If the marauders are against something, its agaisnt pureblood families ideologies. Sometimes that implies to wreak havoc on a white veil occasion. “So don't say yes, run away now, I'll meet you when you're out of the church at the back door. Don't wait, or say a single vow, You need to hear me out” Hurt/comfort, Fluff, arranged marriage

Maybe you should have listened to your best friend's warning about Regulus, you didn't. Now you just have to deal with the consequences. “Maybe it's you and your sick need To give love then take it away. And you'll add my name to your long list of traitors, Who don't understand" "And I'll look back and regret. I ignored when they said, "Run as fast as you can" Angst

Dear John - Regulus x reader

Mean - Lily x reader

You had some words you'd like to say to Snape after he insulted the kindest girl you've ever met "All you are is mean. And a liar, and pathetic, and alone in life" Hurt/comfort

The story of us - Sirius x reader

Sometimes your relationship with Sirius looked like a contest of who could be more prideful, but this time it's gone too far and all you want is to have him back. "This is looking like a contest, of who can act like they care less. But I liked it more when you were on my side, the battle's in your hands now." Angst, fluff

Never grow up - Wolfstar x daughther!reader (No voldy au)

Remus and Sirius watch their daughter grow up and wish she could stay as their little girl forever. “Don't you ever grow up, it could stay this simple. I won't let nobody hurt you, won't let no one break your heart. And no one will desert you, Just try to never grow up, never grow up” Fluff

Enchanted - Remus x reader (Soulmate au)

As soon as you saw him walking through the door you knew you'd love him forever. His first words only verified it. Your eyes whispered, "Have we met?". Across the room, your silhouette, Starts to make its way to me The playful conversation starts, Counter all your quick remarks Like passing notes in secrecy. And it was enchanting to meet you” Fluff

Better than revenge - James Potter x reader

Maybe fake dating your ex's best friend wasn't the best way of getting revenge "The story starts when it was hot and it was summer, and I had it all, I had him right there where I wanted him She came along, got him alone, and let's hear the applause She took him faster than you can say"Sabotage"" Fake dating

Innocent - Regulus x reader

After he realized what his parents have done Regulus can't help but breakdown, good thing you are there for him. “Did some things you can't speak of, But at night you live it all again. You wouldn't be shattered on the floor now, If only you had seen what you know now then" Hurt/comfort

Haunted - Remus x reader

Remus' worlds shifts entirely when his worst nightmare becomes true and he isn't sure if he is ever going to be able to look at you again when he is sure he has destroyed your life. “Something's gone terribly wrong, You're all I wanted.Come on, come on, don't leave me like this, I thought I had you figured out Can't breathe whenever you're gone, Can't turn back now, I'm haunted” angst hurt/comfort

Last Kiss - Sirius x reader

Breaking up with sirius was the hardest thing you've ever done. You can't help but miss the way his lips felt against yours. "I love how you walk with your hands in your pockets. How you'd kiss me when I was in the middle of saying something, There's not a day I don't miss those rude interruptions” Angst

Long live - poly!Marauders x reader (Band!Au)

All your hard work as a band has led you and the boys to this moment, nominated as the best new artist and attending one of the most prestigius galas in the music industry. “I passed the pictures around, Of all the years that we stood there, On the sidelines wishing for right now When they gave us our trophies, And we held them up for our town, and The Cynics were outragedScreaming, "This is absurd!"” Fluff

Ours - James x reader (Band!Au)

When people start to comment on James' personality is your job to make sure he knows how much he means to everyone, but specifically how much he means to you. “So don't you worry your pretty, little mind. People throw rocks at things that shine And life makes love look hard, The stakes are high, the water's rough. But this love is ours” Hurt/comfort

Superman - Remus x reader (Spiderman!Au)

Remus worries that his girlfriend will leave him when she learns the truth. You worry he is too oblivious to realize you already know. "I'll be right here on the ground, When you come back down. Tall, dark and beautiful. He's complicated, he's irrational, But I hope someday he'll take me away, And save the day fluff

From the vault tracks

Electric touch - Sirius x reader (College!Au)

Your friends are tired of telling you that he is going to break your heart. You'd let Sirius gamble with your heart as long as the chance of hapiness is there. “All I know is this could either break my heart or bring it back to life. Got a feelin' your electric touch could fill this ghost town up with life And I want you now, wanna need you forever. In the heat of your electric touch”

When Emma falls in love - James x reader

You navigate what's like to be in love with James 'Cause when Emma falls in love, she's in it for keeps She won't walk away unless she knows she absolutely has to leave” fluff Hurt/comfort

I can see you - Remus x reader

As much as you hated him, you couldn't deny his natural charm and the way he seemed to have a magnetic field around him that made you gravitate towards him, once and once again. “Passed me a note sayin’, "Meet me tonight", Then we kiss and you know I won't ever tell. And I could see you being my addiction, You can see me as a secret mission. Hide away and I will start behaving myself" Rivals to lover

Castles crumbling - Regulus x reader (Royal Au)

You loved him more than anything, you were the best thing that ever happened to him. But your love is impossible and forbidden. When he doesn't have anything left he runs to you, wondering if you'll love him now. “And I feel like my castle's crumbling down And I watch all my bridges burn to the ground And you don't want to know me, I will just let you down You don't wanna know me now” Hurt/comfort, forbidden romace, fluff

Foolish one - Peter x reader

Peter is used to being the second chance, but he can't help but feel betrayed when his bestfriend and crush starts to get closer to Sirius. "Foolish one, Stop checking your mailbox for confessions of love That ain't never gonna come You will learn the hard way instead of just walkin' out" Hurt/comfort

Timeless - James x reader (Soulmate!Au)

James and you are fated to find each other in every life you live. "Cause I believe that we were supposed to find this, So even in a different life You still would've been mine. We would've been timeless" Fluff

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yandere-kokeshi · 6 months

Text

— His stress reliever

Pairing || yandere John Price x gn reader

Summary || being Captain's favorite soldier has its cons, one being that he wants to fuck you every chance he gets.

Warnings || Yandere behavior, talks about the reader having signs of PTSD, dub-con, possessiveness, oral (Price received), drugging (by syringe), spit used as lube, abuse of authority, slight choking kink. Also talks about readers wearing boxers (Who wouldn't? They are comfy af).

You swallowed thickly, hovering your knuckle over the door before knocking gently. “You wanted to see me, Captain?” you say through the door.

You hear a grunt, before his chair squeaking; his thick voice speaking up, “Come in.” he calls back, and you try to still your hand as it reaches for the doorknob.

Every time he calls for you, you can’t predict what will happen. Sometimes he’s all work, no play, giving you assignments like he does the rest of the 141 with a straight face and serious look in his eyes.

Other reasons, it’s for less business. More fucking. He starts slowly, offering you a nice glass of scotch before making you suck his cock.

It wasn't anything you were used to; he used you like a fucktoy. Making sure to call you a cunt, his whore, and his Sargeant.

He cums down your throat within minutes, his come salty yet delicious. If he’s kind enough, he fucks all of your holes and leaves you filled. Eating you out before starting all over again.

You faked a cough as you pushed open the door, reminding yourself to keep calm. And as you came in, and shut the door, you quickly saw paperwork stacked on his desk; which, you, cursed at yourself.

You wish someone was here, but everyone had gone home. Missions had been kicking ass and everyone deserved a break.

Especially you. But you doubted you were going to get one any time soon.

“I really hope you aren’t banning me from training again,” you laugh out, pulling the cushioned chair out of his desk as you sat in it — Price leaning back in his own, cigar curled in mouth as his bucket hat is hung behind him.

He let out a dry laugh, “Nothin’ like that again, don’t worry.”

You watch him closely as he huffs the cigar out, quickly putting it out on the dish before getting up, and pouring himself a glass of scotch.

He, of course, grabs another glass, making sure to fill it high enough — then, he pushes the second-full one towards you. “How you holdin’ up?”

“Fine.” you reply, trying not to think too hard about the last few weeks. You bit your tongue, wanting to ask why you were here. But with his quiet and demanding demeanor, plus the sly share of his beloved alcohol, it was obvious what he was going to demand.

He raised his glass, giving you that certain look before you took after him and took a sip.

The burn of the scotch now going down your throat and your nervous state was making it worse than it should. His prying eyes kept you on the edge of your seat.

“Ya’ know,” he starts, “I’ve been missin’ you, darlin’.” he finishes meekly, his eyes traveling down to your unfinished glass, and your thighs before back up to your face. “Been avoiding me like the plague, did I do somethin’?”

Your face gets hot, but you quickly think of an answer to his intense gaze. “Just been… busy, y’know?”

“Ah…” Price says, clicking his tongue. “Well, who’s been keepin’ you busy?” he inquires, eyes deepening with his question. “It certainly ain’t me– and whoever it is, you do understand the last time you tried going on a date, somethin’ bad did happen.”

You cleared your throat at his calm threat. And from the way he grunted at your reaction, realization struck you like a rod as he, the person you had to follow orders from, knew you were purposely ignoring him.

And, I mean, who wouldn’t? He’s a man of dignity. A man of strength, — your Captain, many men who looker up too, loves to abuse his power, always reminding that you owed him.

Price would constantly remind you that until you relented. It didn’t matter how close the two of you were, because, at the end of the day, he dangled your freedom over you.

Before you could say anything, he added on: “Besides, we both know what will happen if you go out of your orders I placed — right?”

Your throat feels dry. He was looking at you so closely. Like he could see through you, right to how fast your heart was beating. Or how he could see your thoughts in a cloud above your head, as clear and thick as the smoke in front of him.

You could only nod before finding the courage to speak up. An act of bravery and need of escaping pulling at your legs, making them bleed violently.

“Captain, I—”

“—It’s John,” he interrupted, heaving a heavy sigh.

You suck in a low breath at the sound of his first name. Your eyes nearly flutter shut. You nodded again, cursing yourself at the obedient behavior.

“Good.” he laughs, bringing the cigar back up to his mouth. You watch him intently, smoke curling and fogging in front of his face. Ash drops onto the desk, and his giant hands swipe it away quickly.

“So,” John starts, his hands resting on the table, “Are you gonna tell me what’s on your mind, or am I gonna find out the hard way?”

Goosebumps traveled from your spine up to your tongue, sizzling it shut with a steak; the never-ending screaming in your head.

“I—” you started, pausing with a sharp inhale, “...didn’t mean to ignore you,” you snapped, biting your lips as his eyebrow quirked. “I—I’ve been dealing with some... things.”

He grunts. An obvious noise of him asking you to continue on.

You turn your gaze to the floor. Fingers already making their way to your nails, picking at them. A habit you were trying to break. You pinched your nail, eyebrows creasing in shame before speaking.

“I’m just saying, Ca—John. Not meant as a jab at you or anything. But, I just wasn’t expecting company later in the day. I’m tired.”

He didn’t reply. The both of you sat in silence for a few seconds before he nodded; leaning back in his chair with a large squeak.

“Tired, yeah?” he hummed out, to which, your eyes nearly shut completely, feeling the warmth of his hand on yours.

His hand covers yours completely, thumb automatically starting to trace along your knuckles. They’re still covered from the fading bruises of the last mission, and he pays extra care not to press too hard.

His eyes stay on your touching hands, the rough pads of his fingers drawing aimless lines on your skin. “So, that’s all? Ya’ haven’t been getting enough sleep?”

“I haven’t.” You confessed quickly at his question. Your voice is hardly above a whisper.

You couldn’t sleep, not with the continuous night terrors. Waking up in a cold sweat. Tears fell as you gasped for air. Hiccups and the feeling of an elephant standing on top of your chest. It was terrible. Just like the man in front of you.

Yet, you somehow loved him. Craved his attention and praises like gold in a mine shaft.

“I can help if ya’ want. More than I can chalk up to just admiration,” he responds, his voice strained. Only then, when you finally look up at him, his pupils nearly overtake his eyes. “I want— need to help you the right way.”

You couldn’t get anything in, your mouth open and ready to say something; but he continued.

“I need you, love.” he immediately expresses, a gentle smile appearing before he leans back, taking a few more puffs of the cigar like a reflex. Something you knew too well.

You hum, “I assume you mean…” you trailed off, nodding your head at his obvious bulge in the rather tight pants. It looks like it hurt; probably does.

It wasn’t hard to ignore. Not with the way of his legs man-spread amongst his seat. How he was tilting his head at your adoring face, taking another drag of his cigar, making you watch his mouth intensely, letting your eyes linger with the dare of his confession.

“Well, can’t deny a confession to ya’ pretty body, now can I?”

He smirked darkly before standing up, rounding behind you as he pushed your chair back, clearing the distance around the table in two steps.

You knew what he wanted. The ways his eyes lingered too far down. How his hands automatically attached to your shoulders. How his black boots were still covered in thick dirt and mud, tracking footsteps all over the hard wooden floor, and you had a feeling he wouldn’t take them off anytime soon.

You follow him instinctively, getting up from your cushioned seat as his giant fingers trailed down to your hips; a grunt coming out of him as your hand glided over his clothed bulge.

“Get on ya’ knees, pretty thing.”

Dark eyes stared at you as you made it to your shaky knees, taking note on how he leaned his lower back on the table for support; forearm flexing on top of the desk, the sunset shining around him like a God.

You unzipped his pants, undoing the belt. Fingers working deftly as you pulled the cargo pants down. And within seconds, your face heats up — looking at the outline of his leaning cock inside the boxers, your hot breath making it throb.

His green boxers, which you’ve grown to know well, were stained with pre-cum, and the dark patches made you bite your tongue, — the outline of his cock was hypnotizing.

Already, your thighs were trembling and the flame in your sex was rising. A need of something. But yet, you had to treat the Captain first. He always cums first, no?

You dragged your fingers down the band of his boxers, before releasing his half-hard cock to the air. He let out a shaky groan, and leaned his head back.

“Fuck—”

His pants and boxers thudded against the floor, you licked your lips before your hands gripped his warmed and hairy, yet muscled thighs; breathing on his head before kissing his tip, which, his hand immediately flew to the back of your head as you wrapped your fist around the base of his cock.

Slowly, you started licking and tracing a finger on the underside of his cock.

He released a guttural moan and curved his fingers into your scalp. You started to pump your fist around his shaft as you swirled your wet muscle around his flushed tip.

You slip him deeper between your lips, feeling your cheek sucking the length that could fit in. It made him groan, already sensitive from the pent-up work earlier today. God, do you know what you do to him?

“Shit, yeah. Jus’ like that hun’.”

You felt him swell up in your mouth, the veins on his cock pulsing against your wet tongue and cheeks, — the salty, and thick taste of pre-cum staining inside of your mouth.

Bobbing your head back and down, you take him further down your throat, gagging. And that makes him curse, his British accent coming out as he gripped your head harder and deeper.

You moved your head faster, feeling drool slide out of the corners of your mouth whilst your hand worked on the part you couldn’t reach.

His stomach clenches rapidly, his groaning echoing throughout his office. “Fuck, what would I do without ya’, huh?”

Thick balls were slapping against your chin with every thrust. His unkept pubic-hair was itching your nose, but you couldn't say anything.

Not with your mouth stuffed with his cock.

Price begins to jerk his hips roughly in your face, repositioning himself to really start fucking you — which, sent his cock lodging down your throat. His desire crawling for more, exciting chills sending down his spine. You muffled a scream, the surprise when both of his large hands, who were originally on the table, were now supporting the side of your head, throwing your face back and forth in a ritual motion.

You choked, bubbling in the back of your throat as your hands started to grasp tighter around his thick thighs. Nails indenting and scratching for air. But he didn’t care. He kept going. He loved that he could see your spit dribbling down your chin, and cheek as well as smearing against his cock

Tears begin to roll down your face, and Price grunts loudly whilst he face-fucked you; his movements getting rougher and uneven, grip tightening around your head which made you focused on breathing through your nose.

“What a good sergeant, yeah - you so are.”

His thighs started to quake, getting tighter before his right hand removes itself, repositioning on supporting him on the desk behind him, and using the other hand to grasp the nape of your neck; throwing his head back while a harsh moan tumbles from his lips.

“Gonna blow—”

Hot strings of cum floods down, coating your tongue. You swallow, obediently listening to Captain rules. He keeps his hand on your neck, grasping some small pieces of your hair.

His groans were long, and deep. His blue eyes stare down at you, “Make sure ya’ swallow all it.”

You nodded, eyes watering more as you swallowed the rest. Before you know it, he lets go of you, and you gasp out; coughing lightly and rubbing the back of your neck as it hurts.

Unknowingly to you, your boxers were damp. Your crotch was flaming hot, and it was getting harder to ignore. But you couldn’t do anything. Not without his permission.

Both of you sat in silence. A sign of remembering and his torture.

“God,” he starts, his cock resting against the beefy abdomen of his. “You do too well,” He adds, as his head strains down to look at you before scrunching his eyebrows together at your massaged and uncomfortable state. “Did I hurt you, sweet’eart?”

You nodded, forcing a cough. Your throat hurt. But it didn’t matter. You delivered a lovely gift to Cap, didn’t you?

He noded with a slight frown, before leaning down to grasp your forearm — easily pulling you up as he helped you steady yourself, hands going on your hips as you regained center of gravity from the horror of a ride.

Price gripped your chin, forcing you to look up to him. And his eyes were predatory, flashed with lust. And you could tell he wasn’t satisfied nor finished.

“You did well, hun’,” he started, wiping away the leftover spit you didn’t get. “But, I’m still pretty hungry. So, hop on the desk, won’t ya?”

He left no room for questioning or begging to stop because when he said that, his hands immediately wrapped around your waist and lifted you up onto the desk despite your size. The added weight makes the desk squeak.

Price hummed in your ear, hands desperately yanking off your standard military T-shirt, and tactical pants. He threw them to the floor, as well as your boxers.

He chuckled, seeing your thighs trembling and smeared with your own slick. It was funny, really. Even though you say you despite him, look at you. A mess is what you are.

Starting gently, a surprise that came to you, Price kissed and sucked at your skin; hot breath blowing at your neck, ready to devour you at any given second.

“Ya’ drive me mad, love.” he states, giving your skin one last bite before mumbling into your skin to lay back — not caring that his papers will be damp by the end of this.

He removed the glasses of scotch and placed it on the floor; immediately driving his attention back to you and your soaked thighs.

“Le’s get you attention that you deserve, hm?”

You hesitantly nodded, and he frowns; his beard shining in the orange lightening of the dawn. “Don’t be like that, M’ promise I’ll be gentle.”

He unraveled his hand from your naked knee and spat in it; sliding your thighs apart and pushing you backwards until your legs popped with how far you’re spread.

He lubricated your hole, a finger entering despite your squeak that you erupted; which he smirked at. Price always enjoyed how loud you get after the first finger.

His other hand went to his cock, starting to jerk it off — redirecting it towards your hole.

You gasped, feeling it prod and tease you; coating himself in his spit, own pre-cum, and your own slickness before he lines his tip with your ready and awaiting entrance.

Price’s gentle but rough exterior came down, his giant hands rubbing your hip as he whispers within your ear, “I’ll go easy on ya. Jus’ this time, since you’re tired.”

Your breath hitches in your throat when without warning, he plunges his length deep within your cavern; the force of him has you jolt forward and sob out a cry.

A throaty groan escapes him as he feels your warm and tight hole accommodating his whole cock. He stills for a few seconds to appreciate how you feel around him.

“Shit, love, you feel incredible.”

He pulls out till only his tip is in you before he forces himself in again, doing so a few times to build up his strength. His hips snap against your chest in a rough rhythm; the sound of skin-on-skin echoes throughout the office, and your hands tightly pull on Price’s hips closer to meet his erratic thrusts.

“Fuck—!” you whine, leaning your head back on the edge of the desk.

And within a second, Price connects his lips onto yours — the kiss quickly turning into a sloppy one, as his thick tongue slips in and he starts to really fuck you into oblivion.

The desk starts to rattle, some of the containers and pens instantly falling to the floor as his hips brutally meets yours; your moans getting louder and louder as you felt your abdomen feel incredibly tight. A pit of lava landing on you as he kept fucking you.

It feels so good that it hurts, but still, you never want him to stop using you like he is now. Your eyes closed in bliss as Price has his way with you.

“Love it when ya’ captain fucks you raw? Huh?” he grunts, and you frankily nodded at his stern question. When did you not?

It’s wrong on so many levels for you to enjoy your Captain fucking you like this. But you can’t deny that you love every single second of it. Especially now, when nobody is around, and it’s just the two of you.

“—aptain—god!” you babble, feeling his large hand gently wrap around your throat and cup your pulse point, extending your head further as his teeth started to nick at your collarbone.

Usually, you’d whine. But you didn’t care. Not at this second.

“You’re mine, you’re fucking mine, ya’ here me?” his hips slap rapidly into your raw and sore hips as he utters those possessive words. “No one gets to touch— or treat you better. You got that?”

“Yes- Cap!”

He heaved, chucklng at your obediant behavior as he kissed your sweaty forehead; spreading your thighs even more apart as his large length penetrated you faster.

Your entire body was sizzling. Finegrtips and thighs zapping. And his tip brushing that spot has your whole body shudder in ecstasy. His fingers toying with your body, pulling at your nipples added to the sensations.

You felt your abdomen tighten and stomach bloom with pleasure; everything becoming too much. You struggled to get the words, his permision to cum with how he clutched your throat, bracing himself for his own release.

“Shit— gonna blow again, ya’ ready?” you nodded, hands tighetning around his forearm before a particular hard thrust hits that spot again, and you’re left screaming; your very own climax hitting you.

Cum — his cum — coats your puslating and tightening walls. Every of your nerves was shot, and you couldn’t help but moan silently. You can feel his hot liquid pulse, making its way down and making sure to coat every single area of red. It was addicting. So fucking addictive.

Your arms struggled to keep yourself upright on the desk as your body shook violently— eyes shut tight and tears threatening to come down your cheek at the intensity. No sound managed to escape you as Price still kept a firm hold on your pulse.

He groaned loudly, finally letting your throat go and you gasped loudly; air making its way back into your already defleated lungs.

“Sorry baby, didn’t notice hat’,” he grunts out, leaning down to be level with you.

he gently kissed your sweaty forehead, moving away some little pieces of air that were stuck, and kissed you on your monroe. You gently smiled, but forced a few coughs from discomfort.

“Tired?”

You nodded at him, and he only grumbled; hands already makingw ay to your raw thighs that are hurting.

“You lack nothing without me,” he states, and your heart banged out of your chest. Oh god, what did you do? “Good thing you belong to me, hm?” he hummed, ocean blue eyes turning into a deep blue sea — capturing you yet again in his boat, and taking you under his demand.

You hummed a quiet sound at him being so kind and gentle with you after having taken you like an animal only a few moments ago. But, you felt a slight prick on your neck; hand immedialty going to your neck, and seeing a droplet of blood. The fuck?

As you made eye contact with Price, your vision quickly got blurry — everything becoming slow and too much of a jumpstart to move. Your ears started ringing. And before you know it, it turned black and you fell back gently.

Of course, Price caught you. Ensuring that you’d awake comfortably and full.

He did say you were his, did he not?

—

Masterlist || Reblogs, comments, and likes are very much appreciated!! Stay well!!

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lazyjellyfish300 · 4 months

Text

Love Across Dimensions

Miguel O'Hara x Reader s/o

TW: ANGST, LONG DISTANCE RELATIONSHIP, READER IS MID 20S, MIGUEL'S IN HIS EARLY 30S, FLUFF. MINORS DNI AS THIS WORK IS CONNECTED TO ONE OF MY NSFW BLURBS.

Synopsis: You're from a different dimension than him. You didn't ask to fall in love with the protector of the multiverse, and it sure as hell isn't easy being in a long distance relationship with him. But what you have is special, and that's always worth waiting for. The Nicholas Sparks movie Dear John inspired this a little. (The moon quote 😫🫶🏾)

A/N: spinoff of my phone sex blurb, Long Distance. Here's some more insights into y'all's relationship. This one is mostly SFW, maybe a NSFW version coming soon? Headcanons/outline ish? Idk what it is but here you go. NSFW PART 2

-----

- He walks through his portal at HQ with your lip gloss shiny all over his neck and doesn't think to wipe it off. Clearly he's not a makeup expert and forgets that this stuff smears easily. Hobie and Pav snicker together, " well, wonder where he's been." (They already know)

"Shut it, you two!"

"Sureee, boss."

-You have him get you a trinket from every dimension, it's not up for debate. It's always a snow globe or a postcard. Your fridge and your shelf space are both running out of room by now to store them. The postcards are filled with sweet handwritten words from Miguel, telling you about his day and the location they're from.

-He won't take you across dimensions with him. He crafted you your own version of a gizmo to call him and summon Lyla whenever you need her, but you don't have the ability to travel across dimensions yet. Even Miguel can't bring himself to break his own rules, despite how much he wishes he could just bring you here and keep you here himself. The threat of canon disruption looms over his head. Losing Gabi destroyed him. A piece of his heart never recovered. Losing you could be the straw that breaks him. Not to mention, he can't protect you at all times if he took you along on his missions. He takes comfort in knowing you're tucked in, safe at home watching your favorite movies or with your best friends at a new restaurant getting drinks.

-You always save songs that you think he'd like and have all the reels you want to show him saved in a folder called "Memes for Miggy ❤️." His playlist on your Spotify is just titled "🖤" because you don't want anyone to know it's just songs for you two.

-You hardly see him. Dating someone like him is not for the weak. You can usually count on seeing him maybe once a month if you're lucky. And he'll usually stay for the weekend. And it's always the best weekend of your life.

-It took a while for him to get there, but he's super romantic/poetic when he's in love. He reassures you as you two stand outside one night, his arms wrapped around you from behind, resting his chin on your head.

"If you ever miss me, just look at the sky. It's my anchor to you. Know that when you look up at it, that I'm somewhere in it, not far away. The colors of the sky, the position of the stars, the shadow of the moon and the rays of the sun are the same in every universe, including this one where we end up together."

-His favorite gift from you is a bottle of your perfume. He'll take a sniff every now and then and close his eyes and imagine you're next to him. You do the same with his cologne. He's left a ton of hoodies and sweatpants at your house. You wear them to bed every night and give them a spritz whenever you feel like his scent is wearing off.

-The first night after he leaves is the hardest. But the night after that hurts a little less. As does the night after that, and after that, and so on. The stab wound of his departure healing itself as it has dozens of times before by now. Your heart steadily molds back to its original shape in your chest, no longer shattered. You immerse yourself in your work and your friends, trying to go out every now and then, imagining he's right there with you. Because even though he's light years away, he still is.

-But sometimes , the ache of his absence hits you like a wave crashing against a cliff it threatens to erode. When you accidentally play that song that you two belted in the car together, or when you see the carmelicious fudge ice cream in your freezer that you haven't touched since the last time you two ate it together, sharing the carton. It hurts when you realize you're spending another Christmas Eve without him, leaving you with a plate of cookies and a glass of milk that you have to enjoy all by yourself, staring at his stocking you bought and stuffed for him hanging untouched over your fireplace. Hearing your niece and nephew buzzing about their Valentine's cards they get to hand out at school, knowing that the one you bought for Miguel will stay forgotten in the grocery bag in your closet. Tiny needles that pierce you. A jarring reminder that your heart is split in two across a vast continuum of time and space, with Miguel holding the other half on the opposite side.

-You cry, a lot. And little do you know, he does too. The last time after you guys got home from a few days at a little beach house in San Diego, you just sobbed and sobbed into his arms while he held you in your pajamas as you slowly walked him to your apartment door. His expression was sorrowful as he tried to brush your tears away, lip trembling as he tried to ward off his own tears that threatened to release, a tight knot causing his voice to choke in his throat.

"I'll back for you. I promise, baby. Think of me, okay? Use your watch to call me whenever you want."

You look up at him, mucus running down your nose and your eyes puffy and red, but you don't care. You bathe in the ruby ocean of his eyes for one more moment, windows to his precious soul that now inevitably belongs to you. You touch his cheeks, the smooth pattern of his skin imprinting itself in your palms, his warmth transferring onto you a final time before your body eventually forgets.

He walks forward across the threshold with a deep breath as he lets go of your hand at last, slowly closing the door behind him. The door barely clicks before he's ripping it back open, pulling you back into his arms as you wail and sob some more while he just rocks you gently in his embrace, his face buried in your neck.

Trying to tattoo the scent and feel of your body into his memory one more time. As though the very essence of you were all the rations he'd need to hold him off until that moment when he could feast on your beautiful smile once again. He tries not to think about how this could be the last time. The reality of the dangers of the job he signed up for are a painful reminder. Being Spider-Man is a sacrifice.

He finally closes the door behind him, and walks slowly through the orange glowing tunnel, tears leaking down his face, gasping as though the wind got knocked out of him. He hates saying goodbye, praying and pleading to whatever deity is out there that it wouldn't be the last time he did.

Why did the universe plant you so far away from him? Why did the love of his life exist on a plane of existence separate from his? The laws of time, space, and the formidable, neverending, infinite weight of the multiverse barring you two from each other.

But you're his true love. Of course he'd find his way back to you. In any universe.

------

💖

#Spotify #miguel o'hara #miguel atsv #miguel x reader #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel ohara #across the spiderverse #atsv miguel #miguel o hara fluff #miguel o'hara fluff #miguel o'hara angst #miguel o hara angst

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the-californicationist · 3 months

Note

This will be the first request I’ve ever made, I want you. Only if you can. Price coming home in this, whatever mission it is, needs and wants his princess. Marvin Gaye, Sade, maybe? And naughty shenanigans, kisses!!! Thanks thanks and hugs!!! 👑💜

And He Spoke of His Dreams

Song inspo: Like a Tattoo by Sade

Thanks for the ask! Hope this is what you wanted! TW: fem reader

It was late, too late, when John's keys finally rattled in the door. In front of you, meticulously placed on the table, was his icy cold dinner, two candles burned down to their ends, their wax dripping onto the pale tablecloth, and an empty bottle of wine you had meant to share. Your lips were stained red, as if your mouth was bloody, like a lioness over her kill, panting and wrathful. Stained. Stained with it.

He sighed, but he didn't say anything. He was wearing The Suit. He only owned the one. It was the funeral suit, and the wedding suit, and it was the suit that he wore when Laswell called him down to the base for these late-night chats about all the things he should be doing more (or less) of. About how it was his fault that Makarov escaped. About how it was his fault that all of the intel had been tainted. About how it was his fault.

What were you going to do? Tell him he was late to his own birthday dinner? Tell him you hadn't seen him in days even though he should have been home from duty? Tell him you had been waiting for him, pacing for him outside of the door to his home office, hoping that you could find a reason to barge in there and demand his attention?

What good would it do? What were you against the importance of Terrorism?

"Hey, love."

His voice was smoke and brimstone, sparking even though his ire wasn't pointed toward you. He had been yelling. You'd been married to him long enough that you could hear it in his timbre.

"Have a seat, John. I'll warm it up for you."

You tried to hide your frustration, but it oozed around your words like a fetid stench, and he could smell it.

"Sit down."

You sat. He was still a commander. Sometimes he shed that mantle on the drive home... and sometimes he didn't. You could tell he was fighting it. You could see how he heard his own command and winced from it, flogged from his own whip in some sort of self-inflicted flagellation. He hurt himself when he struck you with those words.

John pulled out the chair and drug it across the floor unceremoniously and without care. The legs banged along the ground and slammed down as he fixed the seat in position right in front of you. He sat and you heard the wooden chair groan. He kept his knees spread wide apart, framing you inside of them. As he leaned forward, his black tie fell into the empty hole between you. His hands played with the hem of your dress, and you could feel the backs of his knuckles on his skin.

"Laswell wants me to send me and my men back to the field, and I told her I wouldn't. Bad intel. Went round and round and round..." his volume started low, but it began to increase, like a rising flame in a pile of tinder, "It was like she couldn't hear me. Like she wouldn't..."

He had more to say, but he stopped. You knew that he had a whole rant bottled up in there, but if he let it out, he'd be back in that familiar rage, wearing it like a second skin, and he promised you wouldn't see him in that way. Not again. There had been such a peace.

You weren't sure what made you do it, but you kissed him. You felt your lips purse and press into his mustache, tickled by it, wetting the hairs. You felt the fullness of his soft lips as he responded to you, kissing you back but pulling away.

"Darlin'..."

You attacked, deciding to show him just how darling you could be, deepening the kiss, and giving your tongue to him. If he wouldn't eat his dinner, you would feed him something else.

He relented, enticed by your surprise offering, and any part of him that wanted to hold onto that old, comfortable anger was happy to put its paws on something softer.

John wrapped his arms around you, devouring you with his mouth, pushing at your jaw and forcing you to collapse into him with his immense body leaning on you. He pulled you up, making the chairs scream again as your legs jostled them away.

"C'mon, love. C'mon."

He was speaking into your mouth, filling the hollow of your cheeks with his own words, groping you and caressing you wherever he could manage. As he held you, he moved you into the bedroom, bullying you into an awkward, all-encompassing dance, eager to lead.

His shirt buttons caved under your effort, and he managed to loosen his tie enough to let it flutter down to the floor, trampled by your feet. You found his undershirt and tugged at it, using your hands to venture underneath to pet his belly and make him gasp.

"Bloody hell. Wha's gotten into you, missus?"

His shirt peeled away from his back.

"Don't wanna hear about your shitty day," you hissed.

The top two buttons of your dress were undone.

"Oh? Why's that?"

His hands rucking up your skirt, trying to pull it off of you.

"I wanna feel your shitty day," you smiled, licking your lips, "I wanna feel every bit of it. Give it to me. Let me feel you. I wanna feel you."

You prayed that he understood you. He seemed to, grinning as your hands pried away his trousers from his waist, yanking at his zipper and seeking out his hidden warmth.

John was already as hard as a stone, and his smooth, velvety cock filled your hands and reminded you of just how much of him there was. You pumped at his length, slicking the precome over his head, teasing him just enough to make him wild.

His eyes held a bright fire within them, and you could tell how much he wanted to take control, so you forced his hand. He was always so careful with you, but that's not what you needed. You needed him to bind himself to you, like a bone once broken that was now healed.

Your knees hit the floor and you rubbed your cheek over his length like a cat. You did it again, enjoying the look on his face and the brief uncertainty about what he should do with his hands. He stumbled back, just a half-step, but enough to tell you that you were doing the trick.

His hands were in your hair, and he groaned for you, watching you in furious disbelief as you took him into your mouth. You could only fit his head, but you suckled from it hungrily, pulling it into the wet warmth of your mouth and rolling it around with your tongue.

"Fuckin' hell. Fuck..."

John got rough with you, pulling you up by your scalp, gripping you at the base of your skull, slowing his pleasure down and staring at you like you were a ghost, something unreal.

Then, he kissed you again, letting you both fall to the bed, pressing you down with his weight so that you couldn't move. You couldn't even shift your hips; you were fully at his mercy, ready and very much willing to be used like his toy.

He slid into you without resistance or help. Your body welcomed him in, not asking you for your opinion.

"Mmff... fuck!"

John growled out mid-kiss, trying to reel himself back in. You gasped and moaned, feeling the same effects as your husband, reveling in the magic he had crafted between you.

All of his rage melted from his visage like butter in a pan, soft and frothing and bubbling in a place that was once rigid and cold. You tried to grind your hips for him, milking his pleasure one tiny motion at a time, stoking that fire to dangerous heights.

As if he was being forced to comply, he began to thrust into you over and over. You felt his cock slide all the way out and all the way back in like a shining piston.

It made your eyes water. Your pleasure was so enhanced by his ferocity, and his intensity burned its way through you with every selfish push and lustful pull.

Greedily, he picked up his pace, slamming himself into you and hugging you to him, desperate to be closer and not having a way to make that true. He began to talk to you, telling you his secrets,

"Needed you so bad."

More and more of his cock seemed to find a way to fit itself inside of you, and you couldn't remember ever feeling so full.

"This fuckin' pussy. My pussy. Mine."

His possessiveness made you want to scream, and you could tell he was pleased with your reaction to his declaration of ownership. His smug, satisfied look turned you on even more.

"So wet for me, pretty thing. Wet. Wet. Wet."

The sounds he was making inside of you were straight up pornographic, and you loved hearing the result of his work. He was a master at drawing out your pleasure, and you thought you might blackout if he didn't let you come soon.

"John, please -" you said, but you were interrupted.

He plastered a huge hand over your mouth and chuckled darkly,

"Smells sweet," he licked your neck, sending chills across your arms and chest, "Like you've been wantin' me for a while. That true?"

You nodded, unable to respond. Then, you basked in the pleased look on his face. It was delicious to see him so enamored with you, and you wanted to roll around in it like a dog.

"Gonna come on me, missus? Wash away my fuckin' day, yeah?"

You nodded again, weaker this time. You felt your body decide to divert its attention to your core and the pressure building in your womb. It was like the end of a lit sparkler, glowing and spitting, sparkling and hissing and then... it was the explosion.

Your orgasm spread like wildfire across your skin, blazing in your hips and rushing through your veins, burning you inside and out.

"Tha's it," he was shouting over your screaming, "Lemme hear you. C'mon! Fuck!"

John pressed his cock inside of you as deeply as it would fit and felt the climax as it rent its way through you. He allowed himself to follow, pouring his joy out into you like warm, melted sugar, sticky and cloying.

Shorter, shallower thrusts painted his come inside of you, and your senses were overwhelmed by it. Everything was golden and silver and glittering with his love. Everything was bright. Everything was John. There was no you. No him. You were bathed together in this cosmic light, forever entwined by it.

More than anything, he looked relieved. It was exactly what he had needed. He needed to let himself out, to let his wildness run free, and you celebrated being the vessel for such reckless abandon.

He was petting your breasts, kissing them and studying them like there was a test. Occasionally, he would return to your mouth, slanting his own over it and languidly using it to kiss you. He would lick and taste and kiss and suck and you would allow it. You would be his toy for as long as he needed, and in turn, he was yours to command. Your captain.

"I like you like this," he confessed, keeping you pinned beneath him, "All mine. Trapped, hm?"

"All yours, John. As long as you need me."

"I'll always need you."

#call of duty fanfic #cod mw2 #cod mwii #captain john price #cod #john price #captain price #captain price x you #call of duty #captain price x reader #captain johnathan price #cod price #price mw2 #price x reader #captain john price smut #x female reader

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faegutz · 1 year

Note

Hmmmm cuz I have a headache rn, what about the 141( + Konig and Los vaqueros) helping a gn reader with a migrane?

migraines and how they help ☆ pairing: 141 + los vaqueros + konig × gn! reader

authors note: i barely have migraines but when i do it hurts so much. Im gonna be honest and say im not too proud of these and i had no idea what to write sometimes- But hope you feel better soon anon and i hope you enjoy! :)

tags: migraine, hurt comfort?, domestic, probably ooc, medicine mentions, soft cod men

"CAPTAIN JOHN PRICE"

- dad mode activated !

- has a whole cabinet specifically full of medicine, some thermometers, etc.

- gives you some aspirin and water

- the type to make you go to bed and nap and will refuse to let you get out of bed or do anything yourself

- just tell him what you need and he'll get it!! no need to get up

- will lay down with you and caress your face, occassionaly giving you soft kisses on the forehead

- will always take care of you when you dont feel good and make sure you feel better before he stops

"Let me take care of you,"

"SIMON GHOST RILEY"

- kinda confused on how hes supposed to help you but hes trying okay

- will go to the store and get you something that will help you with the pain

- hes never really taken care of someone before so hes a little awkward

- he wants you to lay down and get some rest but he also doesnt want to baby you

- so he just kinda stands there while you do your thing, watching and waiting in case you need his help with anything

- if you ask him to lay down with you, he will and he'll make sure to hold you close

- "It's okay, love,"

"JOHN SOAP MACTAVISH"

- i feel like he gets sick maybe once a year so he has no clue how to even help with a migraine

- will stand in the medicine aisle at the store, staring at every single thing thats on the shelf and having no clue what to grab

- doesnt want to call you and bother you because youre in pain, so he ends up asking someone else in the aisle what the hell youre supposed to get for a migraine

- gets home about 5 minutes later than he should because he took so long just standing in the store with a confused look on his face

- will make you soup or something warm because that usually helped him when he was sick or in pain

- he almost started a fire because he forgot he was even making you food since he was more distracted by worrying over you and making sure you were comfortable !! how fun

- "Uh, the soup is burnt.."

"KYLE GAZ GARRICK"

- he definitely gets sick often, and hes almost an expert on how to help you

- makes sure you drink water regularly and occasionally take an aspirin

- most of the migraines hes ever gotten was because he was stressed

- so he practically gives you a therapy session and asks you what gave you the headache and if you were stressed

- lets you just talk it out if you were stressed

- keeps a close eye on you and makes sure you drink enough water and that you eat

- "Tell me whats been bothering you,"

"ALEJANDRO VARGAS"

- immediately notices that youre in pain when he sees you wince or squint your eyes

- is ready with pain medication and some water

- he offers to give you a back massage and hes very skilled with his hands so it feels amazing

- he makes sure to close all the blinds or curtains so its darker inside so the pain is less for you

- whispers in your ear about how much he loves you just so you feel relaxed and comfortable

- gives you kisses on the top of your head and soothingly rubs your back in circles

- "Te amo mucho,"

"RODOLFO RUDY PARRA"

- out of all the characters on this list, I have a feeling he would definitely be the best caretaker for you

- makes sure you get sleep and drink water, will literally hold you down if he has to

- he holds you against his chest while you sleep, staying by your side the whole time

- will cook meals for you and basically do everything for you

- suggests turning on some soothing noises or guided meditation sounds on the TV that will help you relax

- he also will brush your hair/do your hair for you if you find it relaxing

- "Solo relájate, cariño."

"KONIG"

- ohh hes so sorry that youre in pain and he tries his best to comfort you in any way he can

- hes not sure what to do himself but if you ask anything of him he will get right on it

- frequently asks if youre comfortable or if you need him to do anything

- it almost gets annoying, but he just wants to make sure youre taken care of and that you feel better soon

- he has no clue how to cook most things so he does the next best thing and goes to the store and buys all your favorite snacks for you

- "Do you need anything else, meine liebe?"

#call of duty #modern warfare 2 #x reader #call of duty x reader #könig x reader #price x reader #ghost x reader #soap x reader #gaz x reader #alejandro x reader #rodolfo x reader #cod x reader

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