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trashboatprince · 3 months

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I'm still on a writing streak of just doing stuff with Fourteen, it seems.

Soooo... I wanted to write up something with their first night of being a retired Doctor, after Fifteen departed for his own adventures.

As always, I use they/them for Fourteen, but because they never correct anyone on this because they don't care, other characters will refer to them with 'he/him/his'. It's not rude, they just don't know.

On with the fic!

The Doctor stood there quietly, staring at the spot where the bi-generated TARDIS had been standing. Where had it flown off to? To another planet? Maybe to Barcelona? The planet, not the city.

Maybe it was in the past, lots of years and days the Doctor had never visited yet. Or into the future, lots there too.

Or maybe he's just in the vortex, having a fun time exploring his TARDIS as this Doctor had with their own.

"Ready to go?" Donna asked, a hand gently touching their shoulder.

The Doctor's eyes glanced at the spot where their TARDIS had stood. It was moved now, UNIT was going to take it to the location where the Noble-Temple family had been staying for a few days now. Apparently, it was a both a safe house and a temporary home until UNIT could fix their old one.

With a bit of work, the Doctor could repair the damage with the TARDIS. It was a bit troublesome to repair damaged buildings as such, but the Doctor could do it. None of the Time Lords were around to stop them.

They could be in the TARDIS now, flying to the location, but in their dazed state of just... taking all of this in, they had agreed with Donna about just letting someone drive them there in a car. Donna had said something about the Doctor needing some rest, and a tired Time Lord piloting sounded like a dreadful idea.

Probably was, actually way. The Doctor had once nearly flown the old girl into a white dwarf because they had been awake for two weeks straight without a single nap. Not one of their better moments, really.

"Yeah." The Doctor finally replied, gently bouncing on their feet. Oh, right, they had no shoes. He had gotten them in the bi-generation. What an odd thing, they wondered if he'd stop by to return them. And then shirt. And the tie. And maybe the undergarments. Oh, and the socks.

"He'll be alright." They heard Donna say, then felt her take their hand. "Just as you will be. Come on, I called Shaun, he said the family is safe and sound. Kate had given them the armband things. Gramps is with 'em."

"Good." The Doctor nodded. "Was worried about Wilf, but he's stubborn, he'd be fine anyway."

Donna smiled at them, walking them towards the elevators. They rode them down quietly, the Doctor's mind buzzing with thoughts while their body felt like it had ran five marathons in five hours.

Fifteen hours.

Is that really how long they'd been this Doctor? So much had happened from the moment they stood on that cliff, confused and excited. They had fought Daleks, a Sycorax queen, accidentally helped in the genesis of the Daleks, told a bedtime story, reunited with their best friend in order to stop an evil, adorable warlord, scarred themself for life by fighting a clone at the edge of the universe, and now just bi-generated while fighting one of their most terrifying enemies.

Had they stopped?

Even for a moment? Or was it only a slow moment in the chaos?

The New Doctor and Donna were right, they needed to stop and rest.

The next thing the Doctor noticed was that they were outside, being led to a discreet UNIT car, where a kind looking employee stood, smiling at him. "Thank you." She said as she opened the door for them and Donna.

"You're welcome." The Doctor smiled back, giving a nod, before slipping into the backseats.

Once they and Donna were in, the employee went to the driver's side and got in, and started to drive off. The Doctor leaned back into the seat, sighing softly. The rumbling of the car, the soft music from the radio (was that Moonlight Serenade they heard?), and Donna leaning against them had the Doctor feeling relaxed for the first time since they sat on top of the TARDIS, eating ice cream with one of the most important people they've ever met.

They didn't even register that they'd fallen asleep until someone gently shook them.

"Is he alright?" They heard the driver ask.

"Yeah, the dumbo's finally ran out of steam. He can rest when he's inside, but for now, up and at 'em!" Donna said, pushing the Doctor up from where they had been leaning against her.

They blinked a few times, glancing about. Outside the windows was a nice, average looking home. Two stories, a cute garden, totally normal. UNIT knows how to blend in when they have to.

They got out and stretched, wincing as their bare feet touched the pavement. Once they got back into the TARIDS, they'd get into some new shoes. Probably some new clothes.

The driver waited until Donna was out before driving off, and a moment later the front door of the home opened. Rose was standing there before she rushed out, hugging her mother tightly. "Mum! You're okay! Oh, you're okay!"

"Course I am!" Donna laughed, tears spilling from her eyes. "Oh, honey, are you? Everything alright?"

"Totally okay! Totally fine!" Rose smiled as she pulled back, then looked at the Doctor. "You're okay too!"

Suddenly, the Doctor found themself with their arms full of Rose Noble. They blinked, before returning the hug, smiling. "Right as rain! Just really, really tired."

"You look like you could use a nap." She laughed before glancing down. "Where's your shoes?"

"Long story." Donna sighed dramatically. "Really long story. Come on, I want inside! I'm starving and exhausted, and in need of a good sit down! You too, space man."

The Doctor followed quietly into the home, where they were greeted by a grateful Shaun, who thanked them for keeping Donna safe and for saving the world (had Donna mentioned that?). Sylvia and the Doctor exchanged looks, a silent thank you and you're welcome. Wilf was practically jumping for joy in his chair, and the Doctor rushed over, giving him a hug.

"I told you! I told you all that he'd save us! He always does!" Wilf cheered.

"Yeah, but our Donna helped too! If it wasn't for her, I wouldn't have figured out who was behind the Giggle." The Doctor stated.

"The Giggle?" Shaun frowned. "What's the Giggle?"

"We'll... tell you over dinner." Donna waved a hand about. "Speaking of, what's on the menu!"

In all of the time that the Doctor had known Donna, they had only attended a few dinners with her family, and they weren't exactly... great.

There was the haunted house thing, that turned out to be alien ghosts. They were supposed to have spaghetti hoops, but due to a spook, they had pizza instead.

Then there was the whole thing involving Wilf's old friend, and when the Doctor had stupidly gotten involved with an issue between Donna and Sylvia. That had ended terribly. The food was alright though.

Would the whole Beep the Meep thing count as one? Kinda, maybe, probably. It was dinner time. It had smelled pretty good.

The Doctor watched the family before them, catching up in the few days they and Donna had been gone. Neither of them had talked about what happened when the TARDIS had taken off after the coffee thing, Donna hadn't bothered to mention it.

The Doctor was thankful for that.

They quietly ate, finding that vegan chicken alfredo was actually pretty tasty. Apparently, Rose was vegan, or vegetarian, they weren't quite sure, so a lot of meals were planned with her preference in mind. The Doctor had eaten meals like this, their sixth incarnation had been a vegetarian himself, and made a smashing good nut loaf.

Well, the Doctor found that this body seemed to like this sort of thing too, and still liked bananas, considering they ate two while dinner was being made. Donna was strict, saying they needed the energy, and the Doctor didn't complain.

However, they discovered that tea was absolutely disgusting to this new-old mouth. Which was a shame, this old face loved tea, it helped them back on that Christmas day so many years ago. Well, regeneration was a gamble, you never knew what would change.

"Alright, alright," Rose spoke up, "you're stalling. What happened while you two were off in the stars? What happened when you came back?"

The Doctor swallowed their bite of food and set down their fork. "Oh, just... a few random stops throughout history. Accidentally met Sir Issac Newton. Who, let me tell you, was hot."

Rose snorted at this and Donna cackled. The Doctor side-eyed her. "You brought it up first!"

"Oh yeah, sure, Mr. 'He was so hot!'" Donna smirked and the Doctor promptly looked away.

"Anyway, we ended up... uh... we ended up on a space ship, several trillion miles away from here." They scratched the back of their neck. "The edge of the universe."

"There's an edge?" Wilf asked.

"Yeah." Donna added. "It was surreal, just... nothingness. For miles and miles, a voice of nothing but the dark."

It was quiet, and the air was heavy. "Why was there a ship there?" Sylvia asked.

The Doctor toyed with their fork. "Wormhole, my guess. Deposited it there. It was void of life."

"But what about-" Donna started, but the Doctor looked at her.

"They were Not-Things. They told us they were not alive."

The silence returned, and the Doctor took a drink of water from their glass before continuing. "I'm not... ready to talk about that stuff yet. We escaped, that's what matters. Then we ended up here, with Wilf. And UNIT took us to their headquarters, where Donna figured out what was making people act so angry."

And they told what happened, with Donna adding in. They told about the Giggle, and the toy shop, but not what horrors they saw in there, neither were ready for that. The Doctor talked about the Toymaker, and what he was like.

Donna mentioned the weird musical number. The Doctor spoke about the bi-generation.

"So... there's two Doctors now?" Rose questioned, looking excited at the idea. "That's never happened before!"

"It's a myth of the Time Lords. An impossible regeneration, but possible in the strangest of circumstances, like when being killed by a being from another dimension."

"Or having regenerative energy stored in your extra body part coming into contact with a human?" Donna asked and the Doctor tapped their nose.

"Exactly. Impossible, but possible under circumstance." They turned back to Rose. "He's out there, the Doctor, doing what we always do."

"But what about you?" Sylvia spoke up. "What will you do? You're not running off with my daughter again. If you try, I'll slap you into next week!"

"And I don't doubt it." The Doctor frowned, the slap had healed easily, thanks to still being within the first fifteen hours of regeneration, but it had HURT.

They sighed, slumping in their seat. "I'm honestly not sure what I'll do. I think I'm grounded for a while, which isn't bad. I think. I dunno, I've never done... domestics before. Well. I have. But not this me, the meta-crisis me has."

"How do you know that?" Donna tilted her head.

The Doctor gave her a lopsided grin. "Weird shenanigans! Met Rose, Rose Tyler, when I was all chins and bow ties, but also when I was curly haired and having memories issues. Long, long story! But she told me she's living a good life with her husband, the other me, and they have a daughter! Oh, I bet she's brilliant! My friends always have brilliant kids!"

They grinned at Rose now, who laughed, giving him a small swat on the arm.

They laughed a little before looking at the family before them. "The other me, the New Doctor, he wants me to relax, to take it easy. Donna wants that too. Guess it's what I'm set to do for a while. Not sure what that entails, but it might mean a job. Or a house. Oh! I've never owned a house before. I had a car once, I wonder if Bessie is still about..."

The conversation lightened after that, with the family chattering about their own homes, the fact that Sylvia needed a new car, which she said with a nasty glare at the Doctor, and how Donna got a job at UNIT. When did that happen? Oh, who cares, Donna would be perfect for UNIT, her bossy attitude and office skills would have that place running perfectly!

After dinner and dishes, Shaun gave Donna and the Doctor a tour of the house, where the bedroom of the bottom floor was for Wilf and Sylvia to share, since she wasn't great on the stairs either. Upstairs had a room for him and Donna, one that Rose occupied, and the last guest room was, well...

"You... want me to stay here with you guys?" The Doctor asked, dumbfounded. "Why?"

Donna scoffed. "Of course we do! You're now part of the family! And don't tell me you aren't, space man! You and I have been through so much together, and because of you, my family is safe and sound. Hell, if it wasn't for you, I wouldn't have my family. I wouldn't have Shaun and Rose."

She took his hand, giving it a good squeeze. "You're one of us now, as long as you're here with us. With me."

The Doctor stared at her quietly, blinking twice.

Sarah Jane Smith had once told this face ages ago that they had the biggest family in the world. And now it felt like it just got a little bit bigger.

They swallowed, their eyes felt wet, and they grinned. "I'll be the most annoying sibling."

"Never had a sibling before, but I don't doubt it." Donna laughed. "Didn't expect anything less."

The family was asleep, and the Doctor was in the TARDIS. It had been in the backyard before they arrived, but they only just not slipped out to check on her.

They took a trip into the wardrobe to grab some clothes and supplies for their room in the house. "You can believe it? A bedroom? In a house? Weird! But hey, it's got a bunk bed in it! You know I love a bunk bed! Bunk beds are cool."

THe TARDIS hummed in response as the Doctor dressed in their jimjams, the familiar pair they had worn over the years, a gift from Jackie Tyler. It was nice that they still fit. They tied their robe closed and looked up at the ceiling. "I'll check on you tomorrow, alright?"

She hummed again, lights changing to green, the faint scent of wet grass and pine entered their nose. She knew they'd keep that promise.

Then, faintly, they heard a knock, from far away. The lights changed to orange, and the scent of warmth, spices, and sunshine came to the Doctor.

Grabbing their overnight bag, they rushed out to the console room and heard a knock from the doors. They ran down the platform and threw open the doors, but saw no one.

"Hello?" They said, glancing around at the dark yard.

Glancing down, they noticed something at their feet. A pile of clean clothing, a pair of shoes, and a note written in a familiar language of circles and lines.

'You forgot something, kid. See you later.'

The Doctor laughed, shaking their head as they heard the distant sounds of a fading TARDIS.

Maybe resting would be okay. He was doing just fine, so why shouldn't they?

They had a family to help them along the way.

Putting their clothes into the bag, the Doctor closed the doors to the TARDIS and made their way back into the house, for their first night of temporary retirement.

I love getting to throw in references to audio stories, books, and comics into my fics.

Also, I do color association for characters and orange is very much Fifteen's color. So, if I do more of these little notes from him to Fourteen, they'll be in orange. Fourteen would be blue.

#doctor who #john's drabbles #fourteenth doctor #donna noble #rose noble #shaun temple #sylvia noble #wilfred mott #fifteenth doctor

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ofpineapplesanddawns · 9 days

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Hello! Sorry to hear youre in quarantine, I hope youre doing ok :)

Would you want to write something for your do androids dream of angel cyborgs au?

The prompt in your list "i like you. A lot. Like a lot a lot" seems like it could be extremely cute

It's been ages since I've worked on this au!

That is a good prompt, perfect for them. :)

For those new to the au, it's a future-based au with Crowley as an advanced android (who was originally naked AJ0440) who accidentally develops free will and had escaped. Aziraphale is a cyborg who runs a bookshop (that technically is just barely avoiding being illegal) that also doubles as a repair shop for out-of-date androids and cyborgs.

On with the fic!

"It's a shame," Aziraphale commented as he opened the door to the roof of his shop, "that the blasted lights and neon display images make it so hard to see the stars here in town."

"That's fine, angel, it's the thought that counts." Crowley chuckled, following behind with a blanket, in Aziraphale's hands was a small basket.

It was a clear enough night to have the moon seen, though stars were harder. Still, Aziraphale thought it would be a nice gesture anyway, to spend a bit of time out on the roof to just enjoy the night, some wine, and each other's company.

"Still, it would have been nice to do some... oh, I dunno, constellation spotting? Is that what one calls it?" Aziraphale turned, pouting a bit.

Crowley smiled and patted Aziraphale's shoulder before moving to lay out the blanket, his fingers blinking pink as he set it down as perfectly as he could. "Sure, you can call that. But it's fine, angel! I'm sure we'll have a good night!"

He wasn't going to point out that his eyes could filter out the light pollution, and he could see the stars, but Aziraphale didn't need to know that. He took his friend's hand and helped him get down, Aziraphale's leg had been aching, came with the changing weather, he had said.

Aziraphale gave him a gentle smile, which has Crowley's insides whirring loudly. This human has such an effect on him, it's... it's a lot that had been building up within Crowley.

A lot that he really needed to get out of his chest. He hoped it wouldn't backfire, emotions are... complicated. And difficult. And sometimes free will was a muddled mess, but if humans could live with it, so could an android.

"I picked an excellent year for us." Aziraphale said, opening the basket, setting out the bottle, then grabbing two glasses. He also pulled out a small covered dish he had prepared before, something that Crowley wasn't really going to touch. Food wasn't completely necessary, but he could use the wine as bio-fuel. And it was delicious, that was a plus.

"Thanks." Crowley replied, watching him before glancing up at the sky. He could see small movements of satellites and air crafts, lights blinking and displaying messages from projections. He adjusted his eyes and they were gone, he could see natural lights, from stars and reflections off planets.

"Are you alright, dear?" Aziraphale asked, and Crowley saw him giving him a concerned face. "You're making odd noises, are you overheating? Your lights are flashing too. Goodness, do we need to do a systems check?"

"Uhh... no, no, it's not that." Crowley shook his head, glaring at his hands before shoving them into the pockets of his jacket. He sat down, grumbling, but Aziraphale kept watching him.

"What is it?" He asked softly.

Crowley looked at him, seeing him under the lights of SoHo, of the moon, of the faerie lights that he and Aziraphale put up last week because the cyborg thought it would look pretty.

Aziraphale looked pretty.

Crowley sighed, turning to face him properly. "Angel, listen... there's something that's been on my mind for a long, long time. Something that I've been trying to understand, something that I don't think androids normally feel. I mean, I know that Francis does with Ashtoreth."

He grabbed for one of the glasses that Aziraphale has prepared, taking a sip from it. "And... well, I've realized something about what it is."

"What is it, Crowley?"

Mismatched eyes stared into hazel, and Crowley knew this was his last chance. "I like you. A lot. Like a lot a lot."

Aziraphale blinked. "You do?"

"Yes. I'm aware that these sorts of things don't normally happen with androids, we're technically not supposed to feel emotions, obviously. But I do. I feel things for you, lots of things. Lots of things that overheat my systems, lots of things that make me feel like I'm gonna blue screen when you smile at me, or laugh, or tell me sweet things. It's just... holy shit, it's a lot? Do you know?"

"Yes, I do." Aziraphale said softly. "It's a lot, I understand, because I like you too, Crowley. A lot. More than I had expected, which is not a bad thing. It's a wonderful thing."

They looked at one another, and they didn't say anything else. It was better not to, it so just... it was nice, looking at the sky, holding hands, just being... them.

I like the idea that they don't have to say everything, they understand, they completely understand how the other feels. It's a lot, but it's good.

#good omens #ineffable spouses #ineffable husbands #do androids dream of cyborg angels au #anthony j crowley #crowley #aziraphale #john's drabbles

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shotmrmiller · 3 months

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I havent a wrinkle in this brain of mine for plot, so have some porn without plot instead :)

Maybe it's because Johnny has you blindfolded, but he feels different. He's heavier on top of you and feels a bit bigger inside of you. It stings more than usual when he finally pushes his cock into your sopping cunt, swollen and tender from the four orgasms he took from you with his mouth alone. Your inner thighs burn as they stretch wider around his thick waist. When his lips meet yours, as your tongues entwine, he tastes of bourbon. He's quiet too, which is very different from the usual filth he whispers into your ear.

But when he starts rocking his hips, all thought fades, along with the ache in between your legs. His thrusts are long, pulling out until only the tip of his cock remains inside. Then he pushes forward steadily until he's pressed firmly against the entrance of your womb— making you wince slightly at the pinch. He does this tirelessly until obscene squelches emit from your cunt, that pinch deep inside of you turning into spine-tingling bliss. Your skin erupts in goosebumps when his head nudges against your sweet spot, a loud moan falling from your lips. He mutedly chuckles, his chest vibrating against sweat-slick breasts and the coarseness of his chest hair grazing your hardened nipples only heightens your pleasure.

You feel him move away from you until his cock slips out, only to vigorously grab at your hips and pull you to him. Your upper body rests on the bed, while he sits on his haunches and keeps your legs spread with his thick thighs as he slowly pushes back inside. But this time, it's not all the way. Oh, no. You know exactly what's about to happen.

"Wait-" but he doesn't. He fixedly keeps you in place at the angle he wants, the angle you need, and moves. His thrusts turn staccato— short, quick jabs— and he's hitting your spot, the one that has you going cross-eyed behind the blindfold. Your mouth is slightly open, drooling at the corner of it as you're rendered helpless against his onslaught.

The fire in your stomach blazes, every snap of his hips pushes you closer to the edge, the coil within you tightening, your body tensing. You can hear him spit— can feel a warm glob of liquid land on your mons, and dribble down to your aching, neglected clit. His thumb collects the saliva and swirls your bud under the pad of his calloused thumb rigidly.

Your spine arches off the mattress so sharply it pops as you climax, a choked scream ripping out of your throat. Your nails dig into the delicate skin of his wrists, no doubt leaving behind red welts. He doesn't stop the stimulation on your clit, his hips never falter in rhythm as he prolongs your mind-numbing pleasure.

Body going limp in his hands, you hiss in oversensitivity and swat at his hands. "Ow, love-" but he cuts you off with a searing kiss before flipping you on your knees, and to the edge of the lofty bed. You're rising to your hands when his big, rough palm pushes you down— his intent clear. With your chest on the bed, he sheathes himself to the hilt in one smooth stroke and the angle he goes in with is nothing short of devastating.

If you hadn't been wailing, you would've heard the deep, guttural noise that escaped his mouth. You can feel him in your sternum, replacing the air in your lungs. He swiftly picks up his left leg, positions it on the bed next to you, and sets a merciless pace. The force behind his thrusts rattles your very bones, leaves you breathless. You can feel the meat of your arse ripple with every slap of his hips— can feel the bruises forming in your skin under his hands.

You lift your hand to feel where he's splitting you open, fingers encasing his cock, he stiffens— swells painfully inside of you then he's coming with a snarl. His Cock twitches as it spurts his essence into you, stuffing you full and then some because you can feel his cum trickle down your legs. You try to lift yourself with quivering arms but again, you're manhandled and flipped onto your back, a squawk of indignation silenced with an all-consuming kiss. His lips move against yours feverishly, as if he's committing your taste to memory.

He finally relents, pulling away but you hold him in place with your hands cupping his face and murmur an 'I love you'. The only response you get is one you feel, as he tips his head in a nod, and then presses a kiss into your sweaty temple before moving away.

Later, when you and Johnny are in the shower, you notice that there isn't a single scratch on his wrists even though you definitely dug your nails into him. And that reminds you.

"Johnny?"

"Aye, bonnie?"

"Since when do you drink bourbon?"

#call of duty #simon ghost riley #cod mw2 #cod mwii #simon ghost riley x reader #cod #simon riley x reader #johnny soap mactavish #john soap mactavish #johnny soap mactavish smut #simon ghost riley smut #cod smut #johnny soap mctavish x reader #simon riley x you #drabble

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criminalamnesia · 2 months

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ok but price and simon could give such tolerate it vibes.

him with a younger partner. he finds your naivety and youth charming. you look up to him, and you can’t believe someone older and wiser is with you.

you met him when he was on leave, and things started getting serious after a few months, but then he was facing deployment again. so, with teary eyes and a broken heart, you watched him leave and promise you’ll write every day.

he chuckles and nods his head, placing a chaste kiss to your hair before slipping away.

you do write him everyday, and at first it’s endearing how worried you are. you don’t know what’s happening, and you’re so concerned— and he appreciates that. find it charming, even.

he comes home from that first deployment and you’re there, waiting with a battle hero’s welcome. streamers and balloons and a fucking cake you baked yourself on the dining room table of his flat. you, beaming brightly and clutching your hands together in glee, waiting by the door.

he laughs it off, tells you he appreciates it, but it was unnecessary. you tell him you think he deserves more.

time passes, and the charm of your naivety and doting loses its shine. you’re boasting to all your friends about your man, how amazing and strong and brave he is. and he tolerates it, laughs it off.

the next time he comes home from deployment, you’ve decorated your now shared flat. the whole nine yards because it’d been a longer deployment. his favorite meal, hot and fresh on the table. a bottle of his favorite liquor.

he can’t help but be annoyed. it was cute at first, and now he doesn’t understand it. he doesn’t care for the festivities— he’s done things no man should be proud of, yet here you are, celebrating him.

he doesn’t want to fight, so he tolerates it. puts on a smile, eats a few bites of dinner, and slips away for the evening. you frown but don’t question it.

soon it’s like you’re living with a shell of the man you loved. he’s quiet. gone a lot. barely affectionate. when the two of you talk, it usually ends in an argument. he won’t introduce you to any of his friends.

you still shower him with love, talk his ear off about plans and your day and whatnot, and he nods along absentmindedly.

your friends tell you he doesn’t deserve you. you’ve basically become a live-in housemaid that he occasionally fucks. you don’t believe it at first, but you come to realize it’s truth.

your love should be celebrated, not tolerated. you should be with someone who loves you as much as you love them.

the next time he’s on deployment, you move out. pack all your shit into a u-haul and move in with a friend for the time being. leave a note stained with tears on the dining room table.

he gets home from deployment, expecting what’s become normal. you, waiting anxiously by the door, jumping into his arms as soon as he’s inside. the smell of dessert or his favorite dinner wafting from the kitchen. balloons and streamers and confetti.

the house is dark when he steps through the door.

part two here, part three (ending version 1) here, part three (ending version 2) here

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moongreenlight · 2 months

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Ex Husband!Price who still comes over and shovels your driveway every time it snows. But then you feel bad because he comes into the mud room every fifteen minutes to warm up so when he’s done you insist he stays for a hot meal.

But then he helps clean up. Does the dishes and shoos you away when you tell him he really doesn’t need to do all that.

Even worse if you have kids!! They’re thrilled that dad is around so they beg you to let him stay to watch a movie or play a few rounds of their video game. Of course you say yes. Who are you to take him away from the kids?

But then it’s late and he’s wound up carrying the kids up to their beds and tucking them in because they’d already fallen asleep on the couch. You say your goodbyes and honestly it’s a little bittersweet because it’s been such a surprisingly good evening.

But when he tries to leave the driveway’s already gotten all snowy again and you’d hate to be worrying about him driving home in these conditions so you offer him a spot on the couch swearing it’s only for tonight.

But then you get to talking about schedules and the kids sports they’re signing up to play and he winds up walking you to your room so you can just finish your thought about how the two of you should split the costs for the sports your kids are doing in the spring.

But once you’re in your bedroom you remember that you’ve been meaning to ask him about something on your computer so you leave him with your laptop while you get changed.

But then oh noooo he comes into the closet to ask you for a password and catches you pulling on the top of your pajamas. You’re mortified. He says it’s nothing he hasn’t seen before.

Somewhere in between deciding if you’ll drive to or pick up from practice on Thursdays, his hands start to wander. Resting over your sex from over a pair of flannel pajama pants. Usually, you’d tell him off. Monologue about how this isn’t how things work because it complicated things and you both need to set boundaries. But tonight you don’t.

Maybe it’s because you had two heavy-handed pours of your favorite wine with dinner. Maybe it was seeing him with your kids again. Maybe it had just been too long since you’d felt anything other than a cheap bullet vibrator.

So you let him slip his hand down your pants.

But it’s a bit jarring to feel his wedding band still on his finger.

#captain john price and the ‘if you give a mouse a cookie’ paradox you will always be famous #got lazy at the end tbh #moongreenlight #moongreenlightwrites #cod mw2 #call of duty #cod x reader #141 headcanons #drabble #captain john price x reader #captain john price smut #captain john price #john price #captain price smut #cod price #price cod #price call of duty #captain price #price x reader

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cod-dump · 3 months

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Ghost accidentally posting a ‘thirst trap’ to the 141 groupchat. He had gotten a new tattoo and wanted to show the others. The tattoo was on the back of his shoulder so he just pulled back his sleeve and turned to show it while (of course) taking a picture in his bathroom mirror. He didn’t understand or notice that the pose he struck was suggestive, but Soap and Gaz were losing it.

“Would you consider that a thirst trap?” Ghost had asked Price when he returned to base from leave.

“Simon… the shit those two have been saying since you posted is deprived. Yes, that was a thirst trap.”

It would get worse from there, because now Ghost realizes the power he holds and has decided to use it for evil. Price has had a near constant headache for the past week.

#call of duty #modern warfare #simon ghost riley #john price #drabble #gaz & soap cannot handle him #price wants to throw him in the dumpster #ghostsoap #soapghost #ghostgaz #gazghost

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mitoad · 18 days

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everyone always talks about ‘medic reader’ this and ‘teammate reader’ that but what abt weapons engineer/mechanic reader ?

just a silly little fella who helps out the 141 with their weapons when they go out of whack, who works very closely with the team to coordinate certain weapons for specific missions .

they’d probably have a really close bond with soap , both having fun with testing demolitions together . who’s able to add in ideas and carry conversations with you when you ramble on about weapons . johnny pulls you close to him when they get startled from the loud noise of an explosion , laughing a little at how they excuse their sudden vulnerability with ‘not expecting it to be that loud’.

price who seeks them out when he’s having issues with his cm901, having to endure your age-long lectures about not accidentally slamming the barrel to hard. he subconsciously makes sure the brush his hand over yours when he finally retrieves his now-fixed weapon.

yeah nyways weapon mech! reader has my heart

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celestialwhoree · 3 months

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💌🌷

John Price with a makeup loving partner who's used to buying drugstore makeup because all of the products they want are so expensive.

When he realises how they look at the Charlotte Tilbury, Chanel and Dior makeup stands at every department store they go to with longing eyes, he's immediately pulling out his card.

"John, I can't!" They're immediately taken aback by the thought of spending his hard earned money on something so silly.

"Course you can. Makes you happy, right? If you're happy, M' happy too."

They spend silly amounts of time swatching blushes, glosses and fancy eyeshadows, John plopping every little thing his partner so much as looks at in their basket.

"You like the glittery things, yeah? The ones for your eyes?"

"Mhm!"

Goes on to grab some £70 eyeshadow palette without even glancing at the price.

"Go grab us a coffee whilst I pay for this?"

Doesn't even give them a choice as he slides a £50 note into their pocket and ushers them away from the till towards the Selfridges or Harrods café.

#cod mwii #cod mw2 #tf 141 #drabbles #fluff #john price x reader #captain john price #captain price #price x reader #captain price x reader

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trashboatprince · 3 months

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Here we go again, another one-shot of Fourteen in retirement!

And this time it's about them and their retirement squish~

Warning: anxiety issue for the Doctor that makes them too nauseous to eat (Don't worry, this isn't going in a specific direction, this is just general anxiety making someone feel sick)

As always, I use they/them for Fourteen. Also, at this point, I'd like to think that Fourteen is keeping in contact with some of the companions, like Tegan, Ace, Martha, the Fam, so if you're wondering about the mention of Ace or their friends, it's that.

Also, the art is mine. I know I've posted it before, but this fic is based on the doodles.

On with the fic!

"Oi! Spaceman!" Donna's voice carried from somewhere beyond the bathroom door. "Hurry up! Breakfast is almost ready and I am not saving you a plate!"

The Doctor scoffed, shouting back that they were finishing up with getting dressed.

"Yeah, yeah, just make it quick!"

They rolled their eyes, smiling as they grabbed for the button up hanging from a knob on a cabinet in their personal bathroom. Ah, it was such a nice thing to have now that they owned their own home, not having to share a bathroom with Rose like at the temporary home UNIT gave them.

They hadn't expected to meet someone as high maintenance as themself when it came to getting ready in the morning, but Rose was a worthy opponent for races to the bathroom.

They hummed to themself as they got the buttons done up on the shirt with an unconscious ease, their attention mainly on their reflection in the mirror. Did they need to shave, they thought as they grabbed for their favorite vest.

Hmm... probably not, it wasn't anything serious. In fact, they thought they looked rather-

Huh?

The Doctor frowned, tugging at the vest, trying to get the button into its hole, but noticing that it... wasn't quite making it. That's odd. Had this shrunk in the wash? Oh, they told Sylvia how to wash it specifically, she better not have just tossed it in!

This is why the Doctor usually just did their laundry in the TARDIS, she always did their clothing perfectly in her machines. For the most part. Sometimes there was a hiccup or two.

Looking down, the Doctor struggled to get it through the hole before finally succeeding. But it wasn't a perfect victory, it was... it was a really tight fit.

"This is... tighter." They frowned, tugging on the vest, and noticing something else.

It wasn't the only thing that felt a bit tight.

The button up fit fine enough, not yet tucked into their pants, but the pants themselves? Well, they felt a tad bit tighter around their waist, and the Doctor wasn't exactly liking that. They tried to adjust them, but it wasn't much.

"Did you shrink in the wash too?" They asked their clothes before lifting up the shirt, eyes widening a little.

Oh, that's new.

There was a slight difference to their waist, a bit more to it than they really remembered. Actually, when was the last time they really checked out this new-old body? Hmm... probably not since their first week of retirement, when they finally sat down and did a self-check over all of their body.

Same face and teeth, same eye issue which required the glasses to be worn a bit more often because it was slightly more annoying now, same minor issues that the old face had. Except there wasn't a mole on their back, it was actually up on their left hip, which was interesting.

There was also the fact that they were much thinner and a bit more worn down this time around, which Donna have pointed out a few times.

Oh, and more freckles, but that was more for the Doctor to be excited over, they liked the freckles. Freckles were cool.

Uhg, Chinny was still an influence, wasn't he?

Still, this was different. The Doctor poked at their stomach, feeling the softness when it had been a bit harder before. What was going on?

How had they not noticed this before? Had it happened overnight? Was it something they ate? Had it happened when they got into that drinking challenge on Sebvie 4 with Ace last week? They hadn't been sure of some of the drinks the Sebv had challenged them with...

Or was it from eating that biscuit they found in the TARDIS library yesterday?

"DOCTOR! Hurry your arse up!" Donna's shout snapped the Doctor from their worried thoughts and they quickly bolted from the bathroom, tossing off the tight vest. They'd deal with it later, best not to keep the family waiting.

"What took you so long?" Donna huffed as the Doctor rushed to the table, jumping into their favorite chair at it.

"Oh, you know." They grinned, gesturing at themself. "Takes a lot of work to be this beautiful."

Donna scoffed, then handed them a cup of coffee, perfectly measured to allow them to pour as much flavored creamer and sugar into it as they'd like.

Breakfast was a full spread, as it always was on Sundays, and the family tucked in. The Doctor decided to distract himself with conversation and tasty food, ignoring the slight, unexpected weight gain.

However, while they were washing dishes, it came back to them as they shifted where they stood. The pants were still tight, and it was bothering them. They felt tighter.

They'd need to run some tests, look into whatever this was. If it was dangerous, it could affect his family! Can't have that! Maybe it was a strange side effect of being on Earth this long?

No, no, they'd been on Earth for ages before, several times. They never had this issue.

But then again, the Doctor had been quite active. Running about, solving problems, not staying in one place like this. Even working in the Black Archives now wasn't anything like working as the Chief Science Officer before.

"Somethin' on your mind, son?" Wilf asked and the Doctor turned to look at him, as he pulled the milk from the fridge. The Doctor held out the mug they had been washing, might as well let him use that if he was getting himself tea.

"Oh, it's... nothing. Just thinking."

"Thinking about what?" Wilf took the mug and grabbed for the kettle that had been on the stove, pouring himself hot water for his tea. "Work stuff? Aliens?"

"Uhhh..." The Doctor didn't want to trouble him with this issue. "Thinking about this video that Rose showed me the other day. Really interesting stuff, it was this guy playing video games and talking over them. She said I should do it, would be really funny."

"Oh yes." Wilf laughed. "I don't understand any of that nonsense."

"Yeah, neither do I." The Doctor grinned, once more distracted, probably for the best.

"This might be a problem." The Doctor muttered to themself as they stood in their bedroom, looking at the mirror before them.

It was Thursday now, just days after the discovery on Sunday, and the Doctor hadn't done much to look into what could have caused the softness around their middle.

But it seemed to be in other places as well.

They knew their body well, it was Time Lord nature to do so. They could tell that there was more of this softness in other places. Just barely there, nothing to be noticed by anyone else but themself. A tiny bit in the arms, the thighs, and maybe just the slightest bit in the chest and face, but it was mainly there in the small pudge around their middle.

They stood in front of the mirror in their boxers, and watched as their reflection pinched the squish. They wracked their brain over what caused it, but nothing came to mind.

Well, except for one thing. Which should have been obvious from the start, but their instincts didn't really... click for that.

It was just weight gain. Perfectly, ordinary weight gain. A normal thing for normal species, right? Well, not for the Doctor. Because the Doctor always ran, always forgot to eat, always did this and that and didn't eat much except for nibbles and such.

But being with the Noble-Temple family meant living by their schedules. Three meals a day, Donna made sure of it. With tea (or in the Doctor's case, coffee) time, and some snacking through the day as they worked on projects at home, in the TARDIS, or on the days they went to work.

Was this normal?

To gain weight like this?

They'd been retired for about six or so months now, was this supposed to happen? Were they doing this thing right? Or was this a bad sign, that they were not doing this correctly, that this was a step in the wrong direction?

The Doctor turned away from the mirror, they needed to stop looking and get back to getting dressed. They grabbed a t-shirt from the closet and some jeans. No work today, they were going to fix the old box TV in Wilf's sunroom so he could watch programs from another galaxy.

They smoothed their shirt down and bit their lip, an uncomfortable feeling was in the pit of their stomach, twisting itself in knots. Uhg, they hated when they got themself so worked up like this. Maybe fixing the TV would help with anxiety.

Donna watched her best friend at the dinner table. They had spent most of the meal chatting with Wilf and Rose about the TV in the sunroom, and how it could get access to over nine thousand channels.

She had noticed that the Doctor hadn't really touched much of their dinner. When dinner was done, she helped them with the dishes, where she washed and they put away. "So, not hungry tonight?" She asked as casually as possible.

The Doctor paused while drying off a bowl. "Huh?"

"You hardly touched your dinner tonight. You like curry, you told me my mom makes delicious curry, you typically ate two helpings."

They looked at her, frowning just a little, before putting the bowl in the cabinet. "Just... not hungry tonight."

She pulled the plug from the sink and turned to face them completely. "Bull, what's on your mind?"

"Nothing. Don't worry about it."

"Don't tell me that nonsense, Doctor. I know you." She jabbed a wet finger against their chest. "You have been troubled by something lately. You think you're so good at hiding that, but you're not. I'm your best friend, I know you inside and out. Literally. Your mind was my mind for a while."

The Doctor squirmed where they stood and they looked a bit pink in the cheeks as they glanced around. Then they sighed, leaning in close. "I... I think I'm failing this retirement thing..."

Donna raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

"I just... I noticed something. On Sunday. And I think it's a sign that I'm doing bad at this, that the calm life isn't working for me."

She felt the pricklings of worry as she listened, and she touched their arm. "Go sit down, we're gonna talk about this."

"Do we have to?" They asked, a whine in their voice.

"Yes, you knob. If it makes you feel better, we're do this in your weird study." The Doctor nodded and left the kitchen for said study, which was more of just a room full of weird books and things they had collected over the years, and a couch that looked uncomfortable but was the complete opposite.

That's where she found them sitting when she entered the room, two mugs in her hands. One with coffee with just a dash of milk, the other one mainly that nasty candy bar creamer with a dash of coffee, just as the two of them liked their drinks.

The Doctor took the offered mug, looking at it with a complicated stare. Donna rolled her eyes and sat down on the other side of the couch, taking a long drink from her mug. "Start talking."

"About?"

"What you think is the matter."

With a small, weird noise from their throat, they set the mug aside to adjust how they were seated on the couch. They leaned back and grabbed at the hem of their shirt and slowly pulled it up. "I've gained weight."

Donna stared at their torso, where there was a bit of pudge there, nothing to really write home about. "Really? That's it?"

The Doctor looked at her, confused. "What do you mean 'that's it'? Is this not... I dunno, a bad sign or something?"

"How?"

"I-" And then they stopped, giving this some thought. "I don't know. I mean, is it normal to gain weight when recovering and taking the slow path?"

Donna groaned, slapping her forehead. "You're the smartest person on Earth, and yet you are a great, big doof! Of course it's normal!"

"It is?"

"Yes! It's a perfectly good sign, actually! Lots of people gain weight when recovering from stress, trauma, and PTSD! My granddad did after the war, told me so himself. Said he came back a scrawny thing and had felt bad about things, but when he started to get better, he ate right and put on weight. It's perfectly normal, and it means you're adapting to a calm life."

The Doctor looked at their stomach, poking it. "So... this is a sign I'm recovering?"

Donna nodded. "Yep! Just like how you look less exhausted. I know the nightmares still come and go, but you've been sleeping better, right?"

"Of course! I've been able to sleep for several hours without a single nightmare waking me up for the past two weeks!" The Doctor stated, waving their hands.

"There you go, this is working. You just being here, not running around, trying to ignore your problems like you had been doing. You've got your friends hanging out with you, you have a job that you actually like, and you still run around, but without having to save the day all the time cause the beautiful Doctor is out there doing it for you."

"Oi! I'm beautiful too!"

"I'm not going to call my pseudo-brother beautiful." Donna made a face and they laughed. "You're starting to enjoy the slow, Doctor. And there's nothing wrong with this." She leaned over and tapped at the softness they had gained. "In fact, it's nice to see you with some meat on your bone."

The Doctor nodded, taking this in. "So, retirement squish is perfectly normal?"

Donna wanted to question the Doctor on their choice of describing this as that, but decided not to. "Yep. Means you're relaxing and doing well."

They perked up a bit. "Oh! Brilliant!"

The Doctor grabbed their coffee mug, taking a long drink. "That's good, cause I was worried and kinda freaking out about it. A lot."

"Please don't tell me you didn't eat dinner because of this..." She winced.

"What?" The Doctor blinked. "Oh! No, no! I actually got myself so worked up with worry that it made me nauseous. Actually, now that I feel better about this, I could do with a nibble. I didn't have my afternoon snack today for that reason too."

"Oi, go make a sandwich or something then!" She shooed the Doctor off the couch as they laughed, getting up and fixing their shirt.

They turned to look at her, smiling. "Thanks, Donna. Sorry about this, I didn't know what to make of it, I'm not... I'm not used to taking it slow. I don't know what to expect, what's a good sign or a bad sign."

She stood up and looked at her best friend, smiling just a bit. "I get it. Trust me, I do. After losing my memories, it was hard to get back on track. After Rose came out, it was an adjustment to knowing if I was doing the right thing or the wrong thing. I'm here to help you along this one, spaceman. Don't ever forget that."

The Doctor grinned and gave her a hug. "Thank you. I'll come to you for things like this, I promise." They pulled back. "You really think it's a good look for me though? The retirement squish?"

"Oh yeah." Donna grinned back. "Also, are you really going to call it that?"

"Of course! That's what it is!" That's one way to call it that.

I hope I wrote this right, I have my own issues with weight that I'm working on, but I felt like the Doctor did when I was younger after I had lost a lot of weight due to medical stuff and started gaining it back when I was healing. I hadn't been sure if it was a good thing or a bad thing, but it is a good thing.

#doctor who #fourteenth doctor #donna noble #wilfred mott #john's drabbles

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ofpineapplesanddawns · 3 months

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Rewatched Wild Blue Yonder and just... gosh, I love the Not-Things, they are horrifying, a villain that either wears your face, knows you inside and out, or both. I love when the Doctor is forced to fight themselves in some way, like with the Dream Lord from Amy's Choice, or when the Second Doctor faced that evil man that shared his face.

So, I decided to write up a little thing with Fourteen and their Not-Thing confronting one another during the running about before all four are in the same room together.

This takes place after Fourteen ran into the Not Donna.

As always, I use they/them for Fourteen for personal choices. The Not Fourteen uses them as well.

On with the fic!

They felt too tight under their own skin, too angry and hurt by that confrontation with... with the Not Donna.

She played the Doctor like a fiddle, and oh how they sang their mournful song of sorrow and guilt, because they thought she'd hear it and understand. No, only their Donna could, not this copy. Not this monster that laughed as their misery, played with their emotions, got them talking.

She knew about the Flux, about the guilt that still ate at them, even now, even with this face.

The Doctor had screamed and raged, kicking and throwing a fit, like a child, when they had escaped. They still felt the urge to continue, but they needed to keep going, before the Not Donna or the monster with their face found their Donna.

There was a shifting sound, a door opening, and the sounds of old trainers on the metal floors.

"Oh." Came the voice of an old self. "It's you, not her."

"Better that way." The Doctor frowned, turning to see themself, standing at the other end of the room.

Well, standing wasn't... the right word.

The Doctor watched as the stolen form contorted and snapped itself from the uncomfortable position it had been in when entering the small space, before the Not Doctor was standing up right. They cracked their neck in a casual way, and the Doctor frowned.

"Your mind games of deception won't work on me. Hard to do that when you're wearing my face."

"A face you still haven't figured out why you're parading around again." Said the Not Doctor, so casually. Even the stance they put themself in was, hands in the pockets, rocking on their feet. The Doctor noticed they were missing their tie, odd.

Then they watched as it shifted and formed out of their neck and shirt.

"Ah, thank you." The copy said, smiling, too many teeth showing. "I nearly forgot about it. Took it off to trick your idiot friend, shocked she noticed it vanished off the floor when she was rambling and rambling away about some nonsense."

The Doctor felt their eye twitch. "Don't talk about her like that."

"'s what you think, when she goes on and on about whatever dumb human thing is going on in her life."

"No, I don't."

"You doooo..." They sang song, spinning on their heel before facing them again, grinning. "I know what you really feel."

"She's my best friend, I love her."

The smile faltered. "But not enough to tell her the truth about yourself. About what happened in those fifteen years you were gone. Or was it two hundred. A thousand? Over a billion years?"

The Doctor frowned deeply, fists clenched at their sides as they watched the Not-Thing stroll around the room as they spoke. "She might remember some things, but she doesn't know the blood that stains your hands. All those lives you ruined because you couldn't stop playing games with time and space. With. Your. Friends."

"Stop it."

"The Time Lord Victorious, do you think she'd be your friend if she knew you damaged a fixed point? After you wouldn't let her change Pompeii?"

"Stop it. Stop it, right now."

"Or how you ruined the lives of the Ponds by constantly interfering? Couldn't just leave well enough alone?"

The Doctor's teeth clenched. "They were my friends, I wanted to be part of their lives just as they wanted to be part of mine."

"They lost their daughter because of you. You led to her being kidnapped and eventually killed."

"She lived a long and beautiful life, I made sure she had good memories! We had twenty four years together!"

The Not Doctor was smiling still. "You took a young girl's life and turned it into a puzzle and then a game. Clara was normal, perfectly normal, but you couldn't let go of the fragments."

The Doctor swallowed. "S-she told me off for it, I stopped chasing the mystery."

"After it was solved. And you kept her around, when she wanted to leave. You couldn't let her go. And then she died. Stuck forever in one point in time. Especially now because the Time Lords can't fix it. Thanks to you."

They hated this, they hated this, stop, stop!

"And Bill, poor Bill! She loved you like a grandparent! A mentor! And then there was... oh, what did we call them? The Fam?" The teeth were pointed, the smile horrifying.

"They weren't ours! They were my family!"

They stopped pacing and turned to look at them, tilting their head unnaturally. "Did you ever stop to think that if you hadn't gotten them involved in your adventures, all of them would be perfectly fine, living their lives? Grace wouldn't have died."

The Doctor looked away.

"And Yaz? What about her? The heartbreak in that poor girl's eyes when she realized that you were leaving her be-"

"SHUT UP!" The Doctor had moved and there was a sharp pain in their knuckles. A small spark of gold went across them, the last lingering threads of regenerative energy.

The Not-Thing was on the ground, clutching their cheek. They looked at the Doctor with such cold, dark eyes, did they look like this to people? To those that feared them?

A smile came back to the Not Doctor. "I know you so well, Doctor. You can't stand thinking about the truth, can you? Knowing that I'm just voicing your thoughts aloud..."

"Doctor! Where are you!?" Came an echoing shout from somewhere nearby.

The Doctor looked at their counterpart and snarled. "I've dealt with worse than the likes of you, and you know it. Mind games are just a cheap trick."

And then they ran, leaving behind the creature wear their face, using their voice to hurt them.

And they knew that the thing was aware of how they really felt about the truth.

I am such a sucker for Fourteen angst. :)

#doctor who #fourteenth doctor #the not things #david tennant #john's drabbles

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chamomiletealeaf · 3 months

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Thinking ab Price fucking you after seeing you so upset from a really bad day to help cheer you up. You’re on your back as he’s fucking you so good that your eyes are unfocused, you’re panting, and have a big dumb smile plastered across your face, which was his final goal, other than making you cum so hard you forget your name.

“Yeah that’s right lovey dovey.” He coos. “Smile for me baby. Lemme see how happy this cock makes you hm?”

He’d smile himself, proud with the way he has you dumb on his dick, happy that his pretty girl is happy again.

“Aww see baby?” He coos at you again. “All you needed was a nice thick cock.”

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shotmrmiller · 3 months

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I like to think that Simon has no game. He's large, he's unapproachable, his stare alone scares away the women. Which was totally fine, until one day, he saw you as Johnny's screensaver on his phone. He was entranced, mesmerized. He's seen more than enough beautiful women on the orange youtube (his hand being his only source of relief for years) but there was something different about you. Maybe it was the tender smile you had on your face, or maybe it was how you glowed with happiness.

Or your eyes. Your eyes twinkled with affection, you looked at the camera with love. Love. That's it.

He can't remember the last time someone aimed a fond look his way. And whenever he stares at your photo, it looks like you're lovingly gazing back at him— and it gets him fucking hard.

Johnny once left his phone behind, for whatever reason, and Simon waited a solid minute, (60) seconds, before he picked it up, and took out his own phone to take a picture of you.

Simon wanked himself raw that night, his thick cum splattering over his screen, over your face. His refractory period that night was nonexistent.

And when Johnny one day was on the phone with you? When Johnny said, "Simon's here too, hen. Say hello." The way your melodic voice said his name? His cock was achingly hard within seconds, and he shifted around uncomfortably, willing for it to disappear.

It didn't. Simon walked with a wide gait, legs stiff, straight to the nearest bathroom and took himself in his hand. He gripped his long, thick length tight, and when he closed his eyes, he squeezed even harder, almost painfully. His tip was an angry red, from how tight he held himself, and that's how snug he imagined your undoubtedly pretty pussy would be around him.

He had to clench his jaw— grit his teeth hard, to keep the pathetic whimpers from escaping. Simon leaked pre-cum like a juvenile, stringy like egg whites, all over his knuckles and he hadn't even started pumping yet.

When someone knocked on the door, the snarl he let out was feral, a "Fuck off" so nasty, no one disturbed him again until he came with his head tilted back, and the vision of you riding him behind his closed eyes.

And then in the comfort of his own quarters, he pulled up your picture again— a blurry, too zoomed-in photo of a photo, and rut into one of his pillows, again imagining it was you. He thought of you on your back, legs open invitingly and waiting for him to fill you. He imagined the delicious moans you'd breathe out in his ear, your nails digging into the expanse of his broad, scarred back. He imagined your walls fluttering around him, the tell-tale sign of your upcoming climax, and you'd squeeze him so bloody tight when you finally did come, he'd move to pull out because there's no way he's not finishing with you. But you, you'd wrap your legs around his waist, and cross your ankles— effectively keeping him inside of you.

He'd cum on the spot, because you were effectively giving him your permission to finish inside. You'd rhythmically clench your walls to milk him dry, to take all of his seed.

And when his warped, fucked mind imagined you whispering an 'I love you' on his lips, he actually came, and he whimpered.

Simon's hips stuttered as his cock twitched and spasmed, spurting thick globs of cum all over his pillow, his bed. His breath came in shaky pants, his heart slamming against his ribcage.

After he stopped shaking, and was able to move his limbs, he cleaned his mess up shamefully, the post-nut clarity hitting hard, and as he switched bedsheets, he saw his phone light up with a notification.

Bonnie just sent this picture. Doesn't she look cute?

It was you holding a cup of iced coffee, and what stood out to him the most was your brightly colored nails.

He touched himself to the thought of those manicured hands wrapped around his cock, as you took him in your mouth 10 minutes later.

this was my inspo for this simon

@pieckyghost i really only have porn on my mind :( pussy on my mind, tighter than a headband.

#call of duty #simon ghost riley #cod mw2 #simon ghost riley x reader #johnny soap mactavish #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley smut #john soap mactavish x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost smut #drabble

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criminalamnesia · 2 months

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everyone’s asking for a part two so here is more angst bc cedar by gracie abrams is perfect for this [ also inspired by what @shotmrmiller said in their reblog :)) ]

part one here

part three (aka version 1 of the ending) here

part three (ending version 2) here

it’s odd coming home to an empty house. unnerving, even. he doesn’t like it— dislikes it even more than he did your celebrations. fuck, he’d kill for those damn streamers right now.

“love?” his voice is soft as he calls out into the dark, once lively little flat. it hasn’t felt this big since before you had moved in.

he takes a few more steps inside, toeing off his boots and letting his backpack fall to the floor. by now, you would’ve been launching yourself into his arms. where were you? you’d never missed the day he came home. ever. you would have it marked on your calendar from the day he left, exclamation points and stars decorating the date.

“love?” he calls again, his voice a little louder. he keeps moving; notices there’s no smell of freshly baked goods or a home-cooked meal.

he rounds the corner, his eyes instantly finding the little note propped up on the dining table. eyebrows furrowed, he approaches. it’s addressed to him, clearly in your handwriting.

he reads it, and he really should’ve seen all of this coming.

he doesn’t cry. doesn’t even feel sad, really. it’s not like he hadn’t loved you— he had, but sometimes you made it really damn difficult to. your constant touches and words, doting on him, talking his ear off about this and that. he’d loved it at first, then came to tolerate it, and eventually he found himself hating it.

it wasn’t fair to you. he didn’t hate you, he hated the naivety. the unconditional love. partners were supposed to show each other that kind of love, were they not? so why did he come to despise it?

perhaps it was some deep rooted self-hatred. something dark and twisted inside of him that had done too much and taken life. killed and killed and killed. watched his comrades die in a number of ways. slowly. quickly. suddenly. brutally.

it hollowed him out, but it was his job. it was his job to do what he could for the damn world— get his hands dirty so people like you would never have to worry about a damn thing.

he should’ve seen it coming. you had been acting a little odd the last time he was home, he realizes now. detached, almost. quieter. he had cherished the quiet then.

now it was weird. he didn’t know how to feel.

he placed the note back down onto the table before making his way into the kitchen. some utensils were missing. some plates and bowls. the colorful dishrags you’d hung from the stove handle. the little plant you’d stationed in front of the window above the sink.

all the pictures of the two of you remained on the fridge. he could see in the photos how he slowly became detached. but you— god, you wore that dazzling smile in every photo.

he turned around and headed towards the bedroom.

——————————————————————

there wasn’t really any defining closure. you’d left the note, sure, but he hadn’t gotten to speak his piece.

would he have begged you to stay? told you to leave?

he didn’t know. all he knew was that it wasn’t fair to you, how he acted. what he did.

he also knew that if you called, or if you showed up and said you forgot something, or hell, if he saw you on the street, he’d say something. apologize at least, because that’s the least you deserved.

but you didn’t, and after a few days, he stopped thinking about you. what you’d be telling him right now if you were there. stopped thinking about how you sang when you cooked dinner. how you would reach for his hand when the two of you were in the grocery store.

how you would throw those damn ‘welcome home!’ parties.

he fell back into who he was, and your memory became nothing but a minuscule dot on a large piece of paper.

but for you? you had been miserable when you’d shown up at your friends apartment. cried into her shoulder as you told her about the note. sobbed as you realized that he didn’t care about you, and how you’d wasted so much time on this man who didn’t give a damn.

but even still, when you stirred in the middle of the night, you expected to feel his hands around your body. expected him to press a kiss to your head as you drifted back to sleep.

you woke up and expected him to be there. you forgot that he wasn’t yours. you found yourself missing him, even though you’d starting doing that far before you actually left.

it took the man you loved days to move on. it took you months— almost a year. he put you in fucking therapy, for god’s sake, because that shit messes with someone.

loving someone so completely, so wholly, only to finally realize it’s one sided? it’s crushing. he crushed you. but you picked up the pieces, and you put yourself back together.

you move on. find someone who actually cares for you— someone who communicates and doesn’t lose interest. someone who appreciates your enthusiasm. someone who returns it.

and when the man that broke your heart several years ago tries to stop you on the street one day,

you keep walking.

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