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that-fangirl-1106 · 24 days

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OH MY GOD?????

Bluebeard

Summary: After a string of unfortunate marriages, the Lord König has set his eyes on you. You’re in no place to refuse, but you make the best of your circumstances.

Warnings: Brief smut mentions, secrecy, blood, bugs, I tried to keep the reader GN but I accidentally fucked up with the Three Bears and a pronoun so tell me if you spot anything. Afab!Reader (tits mentioned), brief mentions of a wedding dress and night gowns.

Pairing: König x Reader

Your husband was…..a strange man. Taller than the giants from the stories your nanny told you as a child and twice as fearsome. You were constantly on the verge of asking if you had upset him in some way, your poor heart breaking every time his cold eyes swept over you before just as quickly looking away. Like he held no interest in you, despite the fact that he was the one who had chosen you over all 5 of your elder sisters.

Your engagement had been a short affair, your wedding somehow even shorter. A flurry of movement too quick to even distinguish. All you could remember was your Mother’s soft hands lacing up your dress, her lips on your cheek, and then your father’s rough arm practically dragging you down the aisle to your soon to be husband and the priest. The knot tying hasty and sloppy, the words falling from your mouths rushed, you had hoped it wouldn’t be a bad omen for your marriage but it seemed that it was in vain, barely even a moment to say goodbye to your mother and sisters before you were being packed away into the carriage like another piece of luggage. And then it had just been silence, occasionally broken by your soft questions answered with only rough grunts or hums from your new spouse.

Your new home was smaller than expected, but still much bigger than your father’s house. It was simpler too, no gold detailing or overly luxurious furniture. Just barely enough to pass as the image of a nobleman’s house from the inside. But you were still in awe of it when you walked through the halls that day. And when night fell….you had expected coupling to happen that night, and you weren’t wrong. But it was nicer than you had been expecting. Not sweet or romantic like you might have once hoped, but he had been far gentler with you then many husbands were to their wives. Opened you with his fingers, his lips on your neck, made sure you were as slick as water before his cock even touched you. And even when he was inside you he was good to you, rough but not cruel, ocean blue eyes staring into your soul the entire time, watching as tears and smeared makeup ran down your cheeks, listening to the wet squelches of your hole and your bitten back moans. But he only spilled inside of you when you reached up, shaking fingers caressing his cheek.

It was your first and only time experiencing that intimacy with your husband before he had run off on a series of ‘business matters’ to attend to, leaving you with a belly full of seed and a ring of keys that unlocked almost every door in his keep. Told you to explore to your heart’s content, and you had. Went into every room, touched everything there was to touch, roamed the halls, met the few scant servants, had cake and meat and every kind of food you could think of. And you became so terribly terribly bored in König’s absence. Until he came home.

So excited to see him again that you did everything you could to welcome him home. Hung colorful banners, had specialty cakes made, stayed by the front door and rushed him when he walked in, taking him by complete surprise. Sat by him at the table and stared up at him adoringly, trying so so hard to make him look at you the way your father once looked at your mother, with love and joy, a certain kind of tenderness that you’d never had before.

And that night, when you crawled into bed with him, you embraced him fully, holding him until the stiffness of his muscles melted away and he was left snoring, curled against you, his head buried in your neck and his hands clutching at your nightgown like you might disappear in the night.

He left before sunrise the next day, leaving you only a note that said he’d be back in a week's time, and a new key to add to your ring. This one opened the personal armory he kept, full of muskets and broad swords and daggers of all kinds. Only one was missing from its place, you hazarded a guess that it was the one he always wore on his belt. A slight thing, with a sapphire embedded in the pommel.

You spent the day aweing over the vast collection of weaponry, picking up some, pretending to fight with some thief or scoundrel, giggling until your heart didn’t feel so empty. But it lost its appeal by the day’s end, and the week dragged along even slower than before, your mood growing ever more dour and downtrodden until your husband returned once again, this time carrying a small chest in his arms.

“Das ist für sie.” He had said, placing the delicately crafted box at your feet, carvings of flowers and dragons on every border. A thing of beauty by itself. “Open it.” He said before plopping down into the nearest seat, leaning back lazily, but those blue eyes of his were laser focused on you.

You were hesitant to do so but quickly conceded to his wishes, kneeling in front of the chest and lightly touching it, reveling in the artistry and time that must have gone into making it. Even the thick leather belts and silver buckles used to hold it closed seem to have had hours put into them. You were careful to open it, pulling the lid back to reveal….books. Many many books. Some plain and leather bound that you assumed were for sketching, others with colorful and hard bindings. History books, cook books, fantasy novels, tragedies, plays. So many books you could hardly number them all, a large smile pulling your face taunt as you took your time pulling out each and every one, tracing the covers and skimming through the pages before looking up to him and meeting his now softened eyes.

“Thank you.” You whisper, hiding the lower half of your face behind the last book, something that appeared to be about medieval weapons and war tactics. “I love them.”

“I’m glad.” He whispered, and you hoped he was smiling under that stupid cloth he always wore over his face. “I figured you would be bored. The servants told me you didn’t invite anyone over this week.”

“They weren’t who I wanted to see.” You tell him after a moment of silence, watching him perk a bit, tilting his head ever so slightly. But he didn’t ask, and you didn’t give him any answers as you carefully repacked the books to be brought back to your shared bedroom. “I asked the cooks to make that stew that you like for dinner, and I special ordered a loaf of bread from the bakery.”

“Thank you, Engel.” He whispered, grabbing your wrist as you passed by, placing a soft kiss on the back of your hand, lips lingering on your soft skin before ever so reluctantly letting you slip out of his fingers. You swore you felt his gaze on you the whole way down the hallway.

That night the bedding was needy, full of heat and sweat and barely stifled groans as he buried himself in your hole repeatedly, filling and then overfilling you with his thick white seed. He made it feel like he was doing it for more than just his duty, for more than a need to have an heir to his estate and titles. Especially when he stared into your eyes like that the whole time, his hands cupping your face, not giving you a chance to look away from him or hide yourself.

The next morning was spent in bed, lazy and soft, starting off with another round of coupling full of slow thrusts and sloppy kisses. Then it was breakfast in your shared bed, strawberries and whipped cream on the side that you both eagerly enjoyed, feeding each other by hand until a dollop of cream landed in the valley of your breasts, prompting him to bury his face between the soft mounds, licking away the mess and creating a whole new one that had neither of you leaving the bed til midday when he unexpectedly left again, adding another new key to your growing collection before he took off on horseback.

“For the attic.” He’d said hurriedly, servants scurrying around you trying to re-pack the carriage with his necessities, but it would still be a few hours behind him on the way to his destination. “It’s rather dusty so be sure to ask the maids to clean it before you go up there, I’d hate for you to ruin your clothes.”

It was all he said before placing a tender kiss on your head then riding off, leaving you heartbroken and lonely, clutching the keyring to your chest. It took two days before you went into the attic, not even bothering to heed your husband’s words, something you only slightly regretted and you inhaled a lungful of dust just after opening the door while two maids fretted at the bottom of the ladder, fearful of you falling and bumping your head, successfully killing the only bride their lord had ever had return his affections in full.

It was a boring place, the attic. Many stored trinkets and cloth, but some paintings and photographs as well. Most seemed to be of your husband as a child but there were a few of him more recently, poised and masked beside women in beautiful dresses with lovely smiles and tired eyes. You counted six different women in total.

His previous wives.

The sight of the photos left you nauseous and mournful, nearly dropping yourself down the ladder instead of climbing down, rushing past worried maids and into your chambers where you could successfully hide your tears in one of the pillows from König’s side of the bed, still tinged with his scent. It was where you stayed for several days, barely eating, barely moving. A sniffling mess that couldn’t be persuaded out of bed.

Not until he came home.

You didn’t even realize it was him at first, too distracted by self pity and jealousy, sniffling occasionally. You didn’t even see him, barely heard the door open. Only paying attention when the other side of the bed shifted and dipped beneath his weight, a sigh falling from his lips.

“Are you sick, Engel?” König asked, big hand reaching out to run along your arm until you pettily turned away, leaving his hand in the air, fingers twitching.

“No.” You tell him, feeling him shift again, laying on his side and wrapping his arm around your waist to pull you closer, not giving you a chance to escape this time.

“Then what is it, Engel?” He asks, lips pressing against the back of your neck. “Let me make it better for you. I do not like seeing you so upset.”

You went quiet, choking on your tears as he rubbed his hand over your belly, nuzzling his nose against your shoulder in a way that was comforting even when you didn’t want it to be.

“Tell me.” He told you, voice on the edge of desperation and begging, and you were sure his eyes would be big and worried if you turned your head to see them.

“It’s stupid.” You finally end up saying when he started to press affectionate kisses to your shoulders and along your upper back.

“Nothing you say is ever stupid, Engel.” He says, curling his fingers into your gown, holding it tight.

“I went into the attic.” You start, breathe hitching with a held back sob. “And I saw-I saw-” You couldn’t bring yourself to say the words, turning your head as your body started to shake with renewed cries.

“Was it the paintings?” He guessed, seemingly taking his answer from the way you only sobbed louder. “Oh, Mein Engel.” He mumbled, strong hands turning you away from your cocoon of safety and into his chest. “Hush now, it will be okay. I’m sorry. I will have them burned.”

“You-You don’t have to do that.” You try and say, though you knew it lacked the conviction you wanted it to.

“Don’t be ridiculous.” He says, shaking his head. “Those women….they never meant anything to me. But you mean the world.” He tells you, and you can practically feel your heart stopping before it sped up, practically a vibration in your chest. “You are mein engel. I will burn them, and then I will fill the walls with pictures of you so that you will never forget what you are to me.”

“Us.” You say, red rimmed eyes finally peaking up at him through your lashes, sniffling softly. “Pictures of us, you mean.”

“No. Pictures of you.” He says, ducking his head to plant a kiss to your temple. “Ones of you in the garden, ones of you reading.” His lips twitched into a smirk as he started to whisper. “Ones of you spread and leaking.”

“König!” You say sharply, heat rising in your cheeks as he boomed out a laugh, cupping your face in his warm palms and planting a wet and heavy kiss against your lips.

“Those ones would be only for my eyes though, Engel.” He huffed, sitting up a bit to better adjust himself, thickening cock brushing against your thighs wantingly, straining through his trousers. “I would keep them close. Only take them out when I’m lonely and missing you while I’m away on business.”

You giggle nervously, digging your nails into his sides when he rolled over you, pinning you on your back beneath him, legs splayed open just for him.

It was several weeks before your husband left again, the paintings and pictures in the attic turned into ash and new ones of you and your love were placed all around the estate, some even still waiting to be finished up and framed. And it had been so so good. Every morning was woken in his arms and every night ended with him in yours. Hand feeding each other at dawn and sating other hungers at dusk. More perfect than any picture that was taken, then any dream you had. But you knew you’d have to wake up sometime.

The day he left again was even more heartbreaking than last time. The goodbye kisses lasted longer, the desperation ever growing, clinging to each other like that could somehow make his duties disappear.

“I’ll be back in a fortnight.” He whispered against your lips, the carriage driver prudently looking away, keeping his eyes skyward so as not to make you feel awkward at the intimate display. “Until then, take this.” He said.

What he handed you was another key, this one large and iron, so unexpectedly heavy that you almost dropped it when he slipped it into your open palm.

“What is this for?” You ask, brine shimmering at the corners of your eyes, a losing fight to hold back the tears.

“It is for the basement.” He says, placing another parting kiss on the tip of your nose. “But you must promise me not to go in. It is very important, Engel.”

“What’s in the basement?” You asked, watching his eyes harden before he forced them to soften, his hand tightening around yours.

“Rats.” He said, voice stern and rough. “Lots and lots of rats. And mildew. So do as I say, Engel, and stay out of it. I do not wish to stay by your sickbed as you foam at the mouth from rabies or burn away from a fever.”

“Then why give me the key at all?” You ask, trying to hand it back only to be met with him slipping it into your pocket.

“Because this is your home too, Engel. It is only fair that you should be able to open every door to it.” He says, pressing his forehead to yours for a few moments before pulling away entirely, taking a deep breath. “And I trust you to heed my words and stay out of that room.”

“I will.” You say, grasping onto his sleeve before he could fully pull away. “I love you. Be safe. For me.”

“Ich liebe dich.” König parroted, eyes soft like warm butter on toast. “I am always safe, Engel.”

And that was it, the last words he said to you before riding away, leaving you standing and watching his carriage til it was too far gone to see. Til not even a speck was left on the horizon and the sun disappeared behind the mountains.

It was a week before you disobeyed your husband.

A week of curiosity gnawing at you like a little beast deep in your chest, eating away at you piece by microscopic piece. Little bites turned into bigger bites so steadily that you barely even realized that it was growing and swallowing you up.

“Curiosity killed the cat.” Your mother’s voice whispered in your brain.

“But satisfaction brought it back.” The voices of your sisters all giggled in unison.

It was what echoed in your head as you stood outside the door, key clutched in both hands as you stared at the lock apprehensively, conversing with yourself like a mad man before finally making up your mind and slipping the key into the hole, the grating of metal on metal an irritation to your ears. But the sound of the lock clicking open, that was a spark of excitement in the ocean of anxiety that had built in your belly.

The first thing you registered about the room was the darkness. Like a void had opened up somewhere in the room and ate away at the very fabric of the world. You couldn’t see more then two feet in front of you, even with the lantern at your side.

The second thing you noticed was the smell.

Putrid, disgusting, foul. It hit your nose so hard that tears instantly welled in your eyes and you retched, mouth gaping as your breakfast tried to escape you to spill onto the rocky flooring. You stumbled in the darkness, trying to backpedal only to trip over your own feet and send your lantern skidding further into the room. Recklessly, you crawled after it, clothes catching on the jagged floor and tearing, the sound not even registering to you at first.

It was just as you caught the handle to the light that you saw it.

Fingers outstretched in the dark, splayed across the grey stone.

You froze, breath catching in your throat for so long that you went light-headed, eyes lasered in on those pale digits. Small fingers, delicate and smooth. Strangely, you thought of your mother’s hands. The feel of them straightening your clothes or cupping your cheeks.

Trembling, you raised the lantern just the slightest bit higher, choking on your own vomit when you saw it.

A heap of flesh and bone lying in the middle of the floor, bodies upon bodies, each in such varying degrees of decay that it was akin to a diagram. The bottom piece just a skeleton, no flesh to cling to anymore. And the top….she looked almost pristine from the angle you saw. Beautiful black curls and pink lips, milky eye staring into your soul, begging you for mercy. For help.

But when you reached out to touch her, to feel for a pulse, to help, her skull caved in and the mass writhed, maggots crawling out of mouths and ears, from skulls and arms.

You screamed so loud that even your mother and sisters must have heard you, all the miles away that they were.

“Oh, Engel.” Your husband’s voice called out behind you, followed by the heavy slam of the basement door. “I told you not to come in here.”

#he’s so deranged #I need a part two now please I’m obsessed

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that-fangirl-1106 · 28 days

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Running this one up🙏🏼

P-RN LINK MASTERLIST — COD

just a link to all the p-rn videos i’ve been sent or found that are any of the cod characters-coded lmao + i’ll be updating as i get more/find new videos

18+ ONLY ✩ MINORS DNI

SIMON ‘GHOST’ RILEY

one

two ; ☁️

three ; ☁️

four

CAPT. JOHN PRICE

one ; 💭

two ; 💭

three

four

five ; 💭

KYLE ‘GAZ’ GARRICK

one ; 💭

JOHNNY ‘SOAP’ MACTAVISH

one ; ☁️

two ; ☁️

KÖNIG

one ; 💭

two ; 💭

three

four

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that-fangirl-1106 · 1 month

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Back on my Eddie bullshit🫠I need him to be mine thank you so very much

washing eddie’s hair 🫧🧼💆🏻

warnings: tooth rotting fluff, soft eddie, nicknames (sweetheart and baby, reader calls eddie “eds”), a few “i love you’s”, nudity but still sfw

ೀ　 ೨౿ ᠀𓏲　 ϑ𐑞 　 ꣑୧　 ೀ　 ೨౿ ᠀𓏲　

“Sweetheart, I don’t want ‘Glacier Freeze’ it sounds like a car scent or something” Eddie sighs and shakes his head but you’re well invested in the shampoo bottles on the shelf.

“Come on Eds, it’s perfect. Good for curls, bigger bottle and smells amazing. Can’t use 3 in 1 forever” You put the bottle in the shopping cart and scan the rest looking for a conditioner.

“Baby”, Eddie wraps his arms around you. He rests his chin on your shoulder and mumbles into your ear. “I thought you loved me no matter what.” You laugh at his little antics, trying to dodge all the self care you’ve been. introducing him to. Last week was facials, this week hair routines and next week? The undeniable mani pedi time, of course eddie only lets you do this when he has a show coming up.

“I love you Eddie” You rub the ringed knuckles of the tall metalhead hovering you, back pressed into his lean physique. “This is part of my love for you. My pretty boy, my handsome rockstar, hm?” You gently tap his hands and walk foward to grab the conditioner. Of course he doesn’t let go of you, following right behind you as he pats your tummy.

He groans. He pouts. His usual behavior trying to pity you to just put it behind. He’s accepted defeat when you put the items onto the conveyor belt. Once you’ve made it back to Eddie’s trailer you set the items on the counter. Oil, shampoo, conditioner, brushes, combs, clips, scrunchies. All for Eddie. He never in his life imagined a girl would ever be doing something like this for him.

Eddie’s in his bedroom, stripped down to.. well nothing. You and Eddie have been dating for quite some time. You sleep over a lot, you help clean, you have seen each other in ways no one else has. So you find it humorous when you start undressing and Eddie starts gawking over your body.

“What is your problem.” You laugh and shake your head, tossing your shirt at Eddie. He laughs and smiles. “Can’t admire my pretty girl?” He fakes an offended look and walks up to you. Bare bodies and affection. “Well you were staring. Must’ve seen something you liked.” Eddie smiles and cups your face, softly stroking at the gentle skin of your cheeks. He runs a thumb over your soft lips, parting his own. “I see something I really like.”

Blushing. That’s what you do when eddie says things like this. You can barely hold the eye contact, and he knows it. so he pulls you into his arms and hugs you, soft yet very callous hands gently rubbing up and down your back, stopping at your hips. You love being affectionate with Eddie because deep down under the tough metalhead everyone thinks he is, he’s a softie for his girl.

Placing your hands on his soft shoulders, you look up into his honey smitten eyes. You whisper, “I love you.” He smiles and brings you in, pulling gently at your hips and plants a soft kiss on your lips. He nibbles and gives a small pull to your bottom lip. He smiles when he pulls away. “Love you more, sweetheart.”

You smile and look at the bottles of hair products lined up by the bathtub. “We’ll see if you feel that way after this.” He chuckles and finally, he starts his shower. Although now his showers have become your showers. Saves hot water and gives eddie extra time to be close to you. You and Eddie stand under the warm water covering your bodies. Once his hair is soaked enough you grab the shampoo bottle.

“Okay. First shampoo. I’ll do this part it’s more fun for me.” You start to lather his scalp with the shampoo. Oh.. Eddie’s never been more wrong in his life. ‘Glacier Freeze’ smells amazing. Feels great too, or at least that’s what the little happy murmurs from his lips are telling you. “Feeling okay?” You tilt your head a bit to see that Eddie has a small smile on his face. “I take it back.” He chuckles, “This is the best feeling ever.”

You raise a teasing brow. “The best feeling.. you positive?” He laughs a bit more, knowing what you’re getting at. “Okay second best. No wait..” He thinks to himself. “Fifth best feeling.” A bunch of laughs, followed by a bunch of scalp massaging and a bunch of complaints about ‘this taking way too long’ from Eddie and his hair is clean. Baby soft long brown curls.

Once you’re out of the shower and in much more comfortable clothing you sit on the sofa, Eddie sat on the floor between your legs letting them hang over his shoulders as you watch tv. It’s mainly eddie shutting his eyes to the comforting feeling of his girlfriend’s fingers in his hair, gently caressing in that conditioner that’s gonna make his hair smell so good. Feel so soft. He’s definitely gonna make you do this all the time now.

“Sweetheart, you were right.” He says a bit lazily, most likely dozing off from the comfort of your fingers in his hair. “What’s that?” He speaks up. “I’m thanking you,” He squeezes your calf that hangs over his shoulder gently. “For caring for me. My hair.. it’s never felt this nice”

You smile. “Aw. So sweet. You’re being so cute right now.” He groans and laughs a bit. “Okay knock it off. I’m not a softie I just love you. I love this.”

ೀ　 ೨౿ ᠀𓏲　 ϑ𐑞 　 ꣑୧　 ೀ　 ೨౿ ᠀𓏲　

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that-fangirl-1106 · 2 months

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I NEED A COLD SHOWER AFTER THIS ONE

Pretty Girl

John Price x plus size!reader

My submission for @glitterypirateduck O’Captain Challenge using prompts 77 and 80 also requested by anonymous way back in January (I’m so sorry, love 😭)

Summary - Price surprises you with gift, but your insecurities get in the way. He’s determined to make you see yourself through his eyes.

Warnings - SMUT 18+. Fr. This is like 90% sex so yeah, minors, get tf out. Lots of pet names. Slight overstim. Biting? P in V. Pussy eating. Insecurities about weight. Bad self talk. Reader thinking she’s not allowed to feel beautiful or sexy:( LOTS of pet names. (I think that’s it?)

Enjoy!

You look over to Price when he rests his hand on your thigh, his thumb creeping just under the hem of your dress, his other hand on the steering wheel. His touch mixed with his expression illuminated by the streetlights causes your stomach to flip with excitement.

“What in the world are you smiling about, sir?” You tease, halfheartedly redirecting his hand from wandering higher. He relents, pulling his hand back down your leg, still higher than can be considered innocent but not nearly high enough to get into trouble yet.

“A man can’t just be happy after a night out with his girl?” You shoot him a look, letting him know you’re not buying his attempt to deflect. He pinches the fat on your leg, chuckling when you shift in your seat. “Okay, okay. Got a surprise waitin’ for you at home, s’all.”

You perk up at that, suppressing a shiver as his fingers crawl closer to your panties once more. “A surprise? What kind?”

“Wouldn’t be much of a surprise if I told you, now would it?”

“Oh, you’re just the worst…” His smile widens as you spread your legs, allowing him to push the fabric aside.

Thank god he can multitask.

—

Oh. He is the worst, you think as you open your ‘surprise’; a shiny black box with an excessive amount of gift paper and not nearly enough fabric inside. You lift up the lingerie by your fingertips, and immediately feel your face burn. An intricate, red lace thong, complete with garter belts, and a bra from the same materiel, that won’t do anything to support, or cover your boobs. You frown, holding the bra over your chest as you look in the bathroom mirror. It seems like it would fit, but he has to be crazy to think you’ll actually wear this, let alone let him see you in it.

Obviously, John knows you’re a big girl, it’s not something you can hide, with or without clothes on. And, even though you insist on total darkness each time, he’s felt your naked body with all of your rolls, and dips, and curves countless times. But this is different… this is bold and brave. And sexy. Words you wouldn’t dream of describing yourself as.

But John does, you remind yourself with a sigh, stripping out of your dress, your boring bra, and already-soaked panties to slip on your beautiful gift. It really is a lovely gift, you can tell he spent some good money on this. It’s not that fake lace that rips and snaps with any slight pull, so you can adjust how you need to for the set to lay correctly on your body - pulling the waistband over your hips, the band of the bra being used to smooth your back rolls. The set is stunning… you can’t help but feel it’s wasted on you.

A knock sounds on the bathroom door and you startle when Price’s voice comes from the other side, “Everythin’ alright in there?”

“Uh, yeah, I’ll- I’ll be right out.” Giving yourself one last look, you roll your eyes as you smooth your hands over your belly that hangs over the already barely-there fabric. You grab your robe off the hook and quickly wrap yourself up before opening the door to the bedroom.

John looks up immediately from his spot on the bed, his brows furrowed. “Why are you wearin’ that?” Crossing the room in a few strides, he moves to undo the tie but you stop him. He grins, “Oh, ya gonna give me a bit of a show, then? Unwrap my surprise, as well?”

His shirt has already been discarded somewhere on the way to the bedroom, exposing the thick hair covering his chest and slightly rounded stomach that you love, the arms he insists could carry you if only you’d let him. He is so strikingly handsome, you’d even call him beautiful if you didn’t think he’d disapprove of the word choice.

You sigh, hands on his chest. “John, I don’t think it’s… right for me.”

His smile falls. “What do you mean? It doesn’t fit? I used the measurements you had sent me for your birthday outfit. You haven’t changed sizes since then, right?”

“Oh god, no, no. Still the same, and it fits fine, it’s just, well, new, I guess. Different.”

Nodding along with your words, his gaze softens as he takes notice of the way you avoid his face, the shakiness in your voice. “You don’t have to wear it, love, if you don’t like it.”

“It’s not that I don’t like it. It really is so gorgeous, but…” you trail off, wrapping your arms around your waist.

“But, what?” Cupping your jaw, he tilts your face to look at him, “Talk to me, what’s wrong?”

You blink, heat spreading from your neck, your cheeks, stinging your eyes. “Why would you get something like this, for someone like me?” He jerks his head back, frowning, but you continue. “This isn’t made for someone who looks like this. You’re not supposed to want to see me like this.”

“If it wasn’t made for you, tell me why it came in your size, hmm? I want to see you anyway you come to me. In jeans and a shirt, a dress… bare and screaming my name.” His voice pitching lower as his hand slides from your face down your neck, slipping the robe off your shoulder. “And as for this bloody ‘someone like you’ bulllshite, I won’t hear another word of it.” John presses a kiss to your collarbone, his beard tickling your neck. “What you are, is mine,” a kiss to your pulse point, hands pressing you closer on your back. “So gorgeous.” His noses at your hair, sucking a small mark just below your ear. “So perfect, my girl.”

“John!” You laugh as he nips at your ear, warm hands trailing along your waist under the fluffy robe.

“Won’t you let me look at ya, love? Show me how beautiful my woman is, show me how good you can be f’me?” You’re already breathless when he pulls back slightly, head tilted to stay in your line of sight. “Please, sweetheart, ‘m dyin’ to get a good look at ya.”

You swallow, heart beat pounding in your chest, trying to ignore that you can feel it between your legs too. You huff at how ridiculous you’re being. He’s felt your body bare before, he’s seen you dressing and undressing, he knows what you look like, despite all of your efforts to hide away. You know it’s so silly to still feel this shy in front of him, especially when his eyes track your every movement as if you are holy. As if your fingers slowly untying the garment is an act worthy of him falling to his knees. In a moment of brief bravery, you take a step back, giving him room to see all of you as you let the fabric fall to the floor, and close your eyes.

“My fucking god…” His voice sounds choked, strained. You imagine his lip curled up in repulsion, any previous arousal vanishing at the sight of your body.

“I know, I’m sorry. I told you, it’s not right for me. We can return it, get your money back.“ You rush, mortified. You squeeze your eyes tighter, hands covering your burning face, willing the moment to be over as soon as possible.

“Hey, stop that. I’m not returning a damn thing.” He tells you, close enough now that you can feel the heat radiating off of his bare skin. He tugs at your wrists, peeling your hands away. John clicks at the tears building in your eyes, “Oh, love,” he whispers your name, brushing his thumb over the apple of your cheek. “You’ve got no clue what you do t’me. No idea how lovely you are.”

“John, you don’t have to say that.” Your eyes cut to the floor again.

“‘M not. Look at me.” His fingers wrap in the hair at the back of your neck, guiding you out of your head, back to the stability he provides. “You are perfect, there’s not a thing I’d change about you, not a damn thing.” He kisses you, slow and deliberate, eager to show you that he means every word. He takes his time to melt you with his touch, holding you close, his hands wandering down your arms, to the curve of your waist, your hips, stopping to grab a handful of your ass. Taking advantage of your gasp, he slips his tongue in your wet mouth, reveling in the taste of you.

Sighing, you let your head lull to the side as he peppers kisses down your throat once more, rubbing your thighs together at the feeling of his beard prickling at the sensitive skin. His hand comes to cup one of your breasts, warm and greedy, and he groans when he feels your hardened nipple poking through the lace, moving to lick just above the material on the other side, desperate for every inch of skin he can taste. He nudges your legs apart with his knee, pressing his hard bulge onto your thigh as you grind down against his.

“John, baby, I need more.” You breathe, pulling him back up to your lips. He’s quick with turning the both of you around, pushing you down onto the bed, never once breaking from your lips, his hands leaving burning desire in their wake. You shift beneath him, reaching for his jeans at his hips, the fact that you know he’s not wearing anything underneath them making you all the more desperate to rid them from his body.

Price chuckles at your hands pawing at him, pulling back to stand and remove them, but he pauses when he sees you laid out in front of him. Your chest heaving, hair a bit disheveled, legs still spread, exposing the glistening wetness on your inner thighs, a matching spot on the gusset of your thong. You prop yourself up on your elbows, feeling exposed under his hungry eyes, and move to cover your stomach.

He smiles, crawling back on the bed, pinning one of your hands beside you on the mattress, holding eye contact with you as he kisses up your legs. “Can’t believe you’re all mine. My gorgeous girl.” You hiss as he sucks a sharp bruise over a stretch mark on your thigh, his fingers pushing the panties to the side before slipping past your folds. You grab his wrist, canting towards his touch, jolting when he grazes over your clit. “What do you want, love?”

“Want you to stop teasing me,” you feel him smile against your skin, spreading your legs further to make room, a ghost of a kiss where you need him most. One finger pushes into you, before leaving you empty again. You know what he wants, and you whine, already frustrated. “Please, sir.”

Two fingers stretch you and you yelp, only to be soothed by his hot tongue flattening over the aching bundle of nerves. “Shh, you’re alrigh’. Gonna make you feel good, baby.”

Your fingers curl into his hair, pulling him as close as possible, throwing your head against the pillows. Any previous insecurity and embarrassment pushed to the farthest corner of your mind, the feeling of him slowly working you open, his lips sucking at your clit quickly becoming overwhelming. “Fuck, John, need more, please,” you pant, already feeling your stomach tightening.

He groans into your cunt as his free hand grazes over the soft flesh of your tummy, adoring how your body is so easily molded to his will. His girl, he muses, as he pulls out of you, switching to lick into your hole, his fingers rubbing at your clit. His sweet, soft, sexy girl.

“Oh-oh god, yes, fuck, yes…” As always, he knew exactly what you needed. His rough jaw rubbing against your skin, burning something wonderful, as he eats you out like he’s starved. Your vision goes white, holding his face against you, hips lifting under his hold and you cry out as he works you through your high, groaning into you as he laps up every drop you give.

You paw at him, trying to pull him back up to your face, but he shoves your hands away. “Not done,” John grumbles, lips still against your pussy. The deep vibration of his voice causing you to moan, your legs twitching beside his head from being extra sensitive.

You dig your nails into his shoulders, tears filling your eyes. It feels so good. It feels too good. “Okay, okay! Shit, John, baby, please stop!” He lets you pull him up now, wiping away some of your slick before kissing you with just as much passion. You whine at the taste of you on his tongue, and he grinds his erection against your stomach, eager for release of his own.

He blindly reaches for a condom where the two of you keep them in the bedside table, shaking his head when you pout as he sits back to put it on. “Eager, are you, pretty girl?” Chuckling when you nod frantically. He teases the tip through your lips, one hand grabbing at your tits, and you shiver. “Y’want me to fuck this pretty cunt?”

“Yes, please, please, need you, John” Your breath hitches as he eases into you, holding himself back from thrusting in all at once.

“My gorgeous girl,” he whispers, biting your ear as you stretch to accommodate his thick length. “Always so good, ‘nd so perfect, hmm?”

Gripping at his sides as he bottoms out, you wrap your legs around him, urging him to move faster, deeper, something. “John, please.”

“Not until you say it, love.”

“Wh-what?” You can’t think straight with his lips on your chest, palm against your throat. He grinds his hips against you, impossibly deep and you sob, needing more.

“Tell me you know how beautiful you are,” he pulls out almost all the way, filling you again so slow that you can feel every torturous inch. “Tell me how perfect you are.”

You’d roll your eyes if you weren’t so needy to be fucked by him. You’d tell him he’s being ridiculous if you weren’t so desperate to be good for him.

And so, you comply, telling him what you think he wants to hear. “Perfect for you, sir. Can be perfect for you.”

He grabs your cheeks, lips puckering in his hold, “Not what I said. Not just perfect for me, not just beautiful to me,” thrusting into you harshly to accentuate his words, Price prompts you again. “Tell me you know that you’re beautiful, love.” He releases your face, reaching between the two of you to rub your clit again.

“Ah! Fu- I’m beautiful! I am! P-perfect, for- just perfect, fuuuck,” you whine as he fills you again.

John always loves getting you off with his praise, loves how flustered you get and the way you squeeze him; but something about forcing the praise to fall from your lips, hearing your broken voice admit that you’re perfect, just the way you are, spurs him on, fucking deeper into you than he has before, delighted as you keen under him, your nails trailing down his back.

“Such a good girl, love everythin’ about you, sweetheart. Wouldn’t change a damn thing.” He can feel you get tighten around him and he knows you’re getting closer, he knows he won’t be far behind as he slams into you. He kisses you, his tongue brushing against yours as you moan into his mouth. The feeling of his cock inside you, the sound of your wet arousal, his skin against yours, the taste of him, of you, it’s all too overwhelming and your climax knocks the breath out of you. Clinging onto John when he buries his face in your neck, mumbling praises against your skin as he fills the condom inside you.

“You alright, my love?” John brushes the damp hair from your face as he catches his breath, still firm inside you.

“‘M good. That was…” you smile, eyes closing as you try to remember how to form a sentence.

Laughing, John asks “Do you believe me, yet? Know how gorgeous you are?”

You roll your eyes now, scoffing, “Yeah, baby. I believe you.”

He hums, clearly not convinced. “Let’s get you cleaned up, eh? Be right back.” He pulls out of you slowly, pressing his lips to your temple as he stands.

“Don’t you fall asleep, now” tells you over his shoulder, on his way to the bathroom, “Round two will be in front of the mirror. Seeing is believing, after all.”

Dividers by @/cafekitsune 💛

Tagging @that-fangirl-1106 just because lol

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that-fangirl-1106 · 2 months

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One thing about Tab is she’s gonna eat it up when it comes to writing🙏🏼she writes Simon so well!!!

can someone write a short scene with this as reference for a simon riley fic 🤕🤕🤕🤕

babes, i'd die for a man who could take off my makeup!!!

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that-fangirl-1106 · 2 months

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It’s not a want, it’s a need <3

After an argument with older fiance Simon Ghost Riley

「No usage of Y/N」

"You should be with a much mature and older woman instead of me..." is what you murmur to your fiance after an argument, a stupid one because you felt he's been cheating on you each time he told you he's going on a mission.

He looks at you with a dead look. Literally. Without any expression.

He rarely curses in front of you (and never at you), but this time, he can't help but let out a "what the fuck did you just say?" out of pure surprise.

You sniffle and squeeze your little hands into a fist, look away, and murmur "That would be better for you... I'm just..."

You burst into tears, trying to hold your voice low.

He sighs and walks to you.

You step back while crying. That's what you always do. You always care about him, always being kind and sweet, loving him, hiding anything that makes your little heart ache or break, and then... there's going to be a fight. But instead of arguing, you just step back and tell him to leave you.

He never does, though. Obviously. Never.

He hugs you and assures you that he's not going to leave his little girl after all the years of being together.

He sighs again and talks in a low voice

"Fucking hell, cut these nonsense out, woman... baby, look at me."

He gently cups you face with his big hands, looking right in your pretty teary eyes

"Listen, 'm not gonna leave ya. Never. Even if you told me to. Can't have my heart torn like this, by you, sweetheart. Can't see how much I love you? Do you think I could easily leave? I don't even think about it, fuck."

You burst into tears yet another time, and he kisses your temple. He picks you up with you straddling him with your legs. He gently lays you on the bed, assuring you for the rest of the night.

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that-fangirl-1106 · 2 months

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Such a beautiful way to end this series! @waiting-so-long this series has such a special spot in my heart <3

A Step - Series

Part 10 - Another Step Forward

Dad!John Price x Mom!Reader

Summary - There’s a new member in the family, and John has some news.

Series Masterlist Here

A/N - The long awaited final chapter! It’s not exactly what I wanted but I’m content (enough) with it! Thank you for everyone’s support and patience ❤️ truly I adore you all

Warnings - talk of pregnancy, labor, cesarean section. Talk of past abuse, implied past SA while healing from birth/surgery. Past infidelity mentioned. Ripping stitches mentioned. Military inaccuracies. But overall fluffy 😌

———

Just like that.

The last one.

His last official deployment. Retired for all intents and purposes; though the desk work, consulting, responsibilities and his title will never leave him. Not truly. It’s a strange feeling, John thinks. He never thought he’d get to choose when he was finished. He was certain the last one would be marked by a signature, not on a release form like now, but on a mission report - Captain John ‘Bravo Six’ Price - KIA. It’s the fate he accepted over two decades ago, one he never doubted would become his legacy like so many others he’s fought for and against.

Now, though? He can’t imagine leaving that way. It makes him sick, makes him ache. The image of you opening the door to the home you’ve made together, the boys behind you, as you take his tags, his hat, and that damned box - the one with the letters he swears to burn when he gets home, the ones you will never have to read, god willing. The thought of you breaking down, brand new baby girl held tightly in your arms as you read the words he poured out in moments of weakness- when he was certain he wouldn’t be able to tell you and the boys that he loves you again. You having to carry on, raising three children on your own while you grieve the loss of your husband.

He pushes the image out of his mind as ink meets paper, and he reclaims the life he signed away in his youth. A life, in turn, he can well and truly dedicate to his family.

Tapping his thumb against the steering wheel, he swears the drive home has never felt so long. Seemingly endless trees that he’s passed countless times before, blurring through the open window of his truck, until finally, he pulls into the driveway. Only grabbing his wallet, phone, and keys, John decides he’ll will bother with the rest of his things later, refusing to waste another second away from his family. Bounding up the steps, he’s just about to unlock the door when it swings open.

“Pause right there. You wash up before you came?”

John’s eyes widen before a baffled laugh falls from his lips. “Hi, mum. Yes, showered, clean clothes, I know the drill.”

“Good lad. Can’t have you gettin’ my newest grandchild sick, can I? C’mere.” She smiles, hands lifting off of her hips to invite him in for a hug. He immediately bends to her will. No matter how much a man grows, in stature or reputation, he’s never too big for his mother’s embrace.

“Let’s not forget, they’re only your grandchildren because they’re my kids.” He teases as he stands straight again. “I’ve no intention of making any of ‘em sick.”

Mrs. Price clicks her tongue and hums. “The little one is just waking up from a nap with her mum, and your boys are beside themselves waitin’ for you.” She pats his cheeks, and John smiles, amused as she leads him inside his own home.

Once inside she shoos him up the stairs, telling him to go greet the boys so she can check on you and the baby. She grabs your freshly filled water bottle and a couple extra burp cloths before heading to the main bedroom.

You are so incredibly grateful for her. You’ve never been this cared for after your other babies, which both mends and breaks your heart. You remember by this time with Charlie you already had roaming hands and burning demands breathed onto your skin, no regard or respect for your broken and healing body. And with Elliot you were already out of bed, no help with the toddler, cleaning and cooking, and in so much pain. Your stitches popped more than once, and that was the only reason you were provided a semblance of mercy. Per your doctor’s orders, William gave you the minimum six weeks before claiming you’d abandoned your duties as a wife, threatening to find someone willing to ‘help’ him. You wish you had let him.

Though, just the same as before, you still miss your mom, ache for her embrace, her voice. But your mother-in-law is filling the gap seamlessly. She truly has been a wonderful support; she was there during the labor, held your hand during the c-section, and has hardly left your side during recovery. You asked her once, in the hopeless delirium of a late night feeding, why she was so insistent on helping you, why she even cared. She looked so sad at your questions, but she simply grabbed your hand and reminded you that this is what family does. She hasn’t let you forget that since.

You asked her to help make sure you look decent when John came home, to which she insisted that you’re glowing and beautiful no matter what. John would agree, you know, but you still want to feel like a whole person, not just a hodgepodge of sutures and soreness and milk stains. So she helped you fix your hair, and helped you into a clean set of pajamas.

“All ready?” She asks as she lays the baby gently into your arms again.

“All ready,” you confirm, nearly giddy as she adjusts the pillows behind you. She gives your hand one last squeeze before going to fetch your husband.

You listen to her footsteps as she goes up the stairs, the clock ticking for all of twenty seconds, and then heavier, faster footsteps down the stairs. Giggling when you hear a small crash and a curse from the living room just before John opens the door.

“He tried to kill me. A lifetime of service, just to be done in by a hunk of plastic. Quite the shame that would be.” He tosses an action figure onto the side table, grinning as he leans down to kiss you. “Hello, m’love.”

“Hi, baby,” You mumble, smiling against his lips, relishing in the heat of his hand on your face. You shift just slightly, trying to pull him in closer with one hand, but he pulls away when the bundle in your arms coos at the movement. His eyes dart from your face to hers, a dopey grin spreading even further across his face, as if he had forgotten and was just reminded of the entire reason you’re laid up in bed.

“And, hello to you, Odette.” John whispers, using one finger to stroke her cheek and pull the swaddle blanket away from her face. “She’s beautiful. She looks just like you.”

You laugh again, “If you had said that to me a week ago, when she was still all wrinkly and fresh, I might’ve cried.”

“Shh, no, no. She’s perfect.” He finds the strength to direct his gaze off of your daughter and back to you. “You’re perfect. I’m so proud of you.” With his arm under yours, helping to support her weight, he presses another kiss to your head. “I’m sorry I missed it.”

“I know. Me too.” You sigh and shake your head, “but you’re home now. Come on and take her, will you?”

That is simultaneously the most terrifying request he has ever heard, and the words he has been waiting for his whole life. After wiping his hands down the front of his shirt, he easily scoops her up, shocked by how tiny she truly is.

“The boys told me they’ve been calling her Odie?” John keeps his voice low, cautious to not disturb the sleeping babe too much as he settles on the bed beside your legs.

“Hah, yeah. Elliot was struggling with the ‘T’ sound, so Charlie came up with a compromise.” A warm smile on your face as you crane your neck to look at her.

He hums. “I like it.”

You thought you had him memorized. Thought you knew each freckle and hair and crease upon his face. Assumed every smile, frown, and even the peaceful expression he wears in his sleep had long been ingrained in your mind, as much a part of you as the blood in your veins. But this is new. You felt it when he first walked in the room, when he kissed you, and now as he cradles his daughter. He’s always happier once he’s home, but there’s an ever-present smoky cloud just below the surface even on his best days. But, not today. No, he’s lighter, clearer today. He’s new.

John must feel you dissecting him with your eyes, because he looks up with a curious smile.

“Something’s different about you.”

“Never could get much past you, could I?” He teases but continues when you don’t respond. “I’m done, love. Officially. No more missions, deployments. No more running off in the middle of the night. It’s through.”

A million questions rise to the surface, and he is patient to answer every one. Assuring you that nothing bad happened to bring this on. That it’s not as sudden as it seems, he’s been working on it for the better part of a year, just had to get all his ducks in a row. He’s not hanging up his hat completely, will still be expected to be on base occasionally but only during business hours. He’ll always have his evenings and weekends free.

You can hardly comprehend it, but then he smiles again and tells you, “I’m home, love. For good, now.” And there’s no point in trying to hold back your emotions now, relief and joy causing tears to fall down your cheeks and a huge smile spreading across your face.

He’s really home.

You manage to pull him in for another kiss, him leaning forward but still being careful of the baby. The kiss is new too, wet with tears as many times before, but there’s less grief and more hope in the way you hold his face in your hands. There’s more joy in the way he smiles against your mouth. And though it seemed impossible, there’s more love in his eyes when he pulls away.

With your hand smoothing over his jaw one last time, you tell him you love him. So much.

John takes a breath to respond just as there’s a knock on the door, and Charlie pokes his head in, Elliot squeezing past him and climbing onto the empty side of the bed.

“Gran said the lasagna’s in the oven, and Yeti and me are wondering if we could play outside? Pleeease?” Your oldest tacks on the pleasantry with a cheesy grin, hands pulled together in front of his chest in a pleading motion.

“Yeah, I think we can do that, baby. Just give me a little bit. Go get your shoes on, and we’ll be right there.” You tell him with a smile, as Elliot lays his head on your thigh and you run your fingers through his hair. When Charlie leaves, you turn back to John, who looks concerned, almost worried. “What?”

“Are you okay? I mean, can you move?”

You don’t mean to laugh, but the questions were asked so sweetly you couldn’t help it. “Yes, I can move, with some help. Some sun will be good for the baby, and for me.”

After helping you stand, and never taking his hand off of you, he slowly helps you settle on the bench swing on the back porch, Odette placed back into your arms. The boys come running out moments later, excitedly showing their dad the new ball and mitts they got.

You watch them play catch while you rock the new baby. The door creaks behind you, and you turn to see your mother-in-law watching the scene just the same as you. You catch her eye and she smiles, coming to sit beside you.

Her cold hands grab one of yours, and you take another look around. Odette’s eyelashes fanned over her cheek, the wrinkles in Mrs. Price’s hands, your sons running and laughing with your husband. You realize that this is it. This is what you worked so hard to get. You made it through. Your boys are safe, your family is complete. You’re okay.

We made it. We’re safe.

All of us.

———

A/N - I hope I tied it all together neatly and I hope it was worth the wait. I’m sorry it took so long

Tagging - @anotherfan07 @azxulaa @fullmoon-94 @poohkie90 @that-fangirl-1106 @mxtokko @bebobeboben @darkangel4121 @kkaaaagt @tuttifuckinfruttifriday @konigs-whore @beebeechaos @avidreadee123 @luvecarson @vampirekilmer

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that-fangirl-1106 · 3 months

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This one did me in </3

warning: HEAVY ANGST, Simon can't stop crying, Sad Simon, u die sorry :(

Simon holding your corpse and it's just. A mess. Jus' thinkin about him fully breaking down, hunched over your body. Growling out words of venom to anyone who comes close.

He's nearly shot Johnny when he tried to pry you away from him. Good thing Price managed to get some distance between them.

It shakes their very core. Seeing just how vulnerable their lieutenant is. He's shaking, and crying like a little boy. And his sobs sound painful. Like each tear, and breath is being ripped straight out of his throat. It's a heart wrenching sight, and not a single one of them has the courage to speak, or to comfort. And maybe it's their way of showing respect for you. For what's passed.

Meanwhile your Simon is just wracking with sobs. His tears are never ending, and not a moment later does he start to beg. Sounding almost possessed and hysterical as he goes on a tangent.

"My baby....my baby...."

He weeps. Voice cracking, trying to pull you impossibly close to his chest. As if he could share his heartbeat with you. You were his lifeline, and now it's getting harder and harder to breathe without you. His tears trickle down to your face, and it makes it seem like you're crying too. Like you're sorry for leaving so soon, for not being able to say goodbye, for not being able to say 'I love you. The thought shatters Simon and now he's shaking with a new wave of tears dampening his mask.

"Just wake up... please just–just come back..."

He whispers, and he hated how everybody heard. Except you.

a/n: uhhhhh, once again I am practicing my angst, and english skills! This also served as like, a character analysation?? I jus' wanted to see how far I could get at giving a character despair. Think I did pretty well, criticism, and corrections to my grammar are always welcome by the way! And I hope your taking care of yourself, my loves! Till next time!

Yours, truly,

–dolly

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that-fangirl-1106 · 3 months

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67 votes?? You guys are too sweet🥹it’ll be a slow process but I’ll get started on the fic ASAP!!!

I had a WILD fanfic idea that came to me in a dream.

Long story short it’s about yandere!Soap and a wee bit of yandere!Ghost but not like….together.

I’ve never written anything like this and it would probably be a 2-3 part series. What are we thinking????

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that-fangirl-1106 · 3 months

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Not a Swiftie but this is the one song I like and WOW. This is too real.

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.

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that-fangirl-1106 · 3 months

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I had a WILD fanfic idea that came to me in a dream.

Long story short it’s about yandere!Soap and a wee bit of yandere!Ghost but not like….together.

I’ve never written anything like this and it would probably be a 2-3 part series. What are we thinking????

#cod #soap x reader #john soap mactavish #soap mactavish #yandere soap #cod x reader #cod imagine #soap imagine

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that-fangirl-1106 · 3 months

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THIS🙏🏼🙏🏼

on the one hand i'm thinking about ghost with a virgin!reader that's never reached orgasm no matter how much you try with your stupid plastic dildos and silicone vibrators. thinking about how he would take it as his new mission to show you just how much better a real cock is, how he can show you how to make yourself come. god he'd be so unbearable, so smug but gentle but dominating all at once? good luck to reader cause you're never gonna be able to use your silly little sex toys again

but then on the other hand i'm thinking about captain price with the absolute filthiest daddy kink, and you're the civilian assistant that he may or may not have been fucking for months. like he thinks he has it all under wraps, not willing to frighten you off, but then one day you show up in such a bratty, bad mood and he just absolutely lets loose on you

but on the other hand i'm thinking about soap with a mommy kink. like, it starts out as a stupid little argument, you snapping out "i'm not your fucking mother, johnny", and him going so fucking red, only for it to end up with you on your back as he ruts into you wildly and suckles at your tits

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that-fangirl-1106 · 3 months

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I LOVE YOU TAB!!!!!!😫🥹🥰

Hi, love it’s Tab!

I’m sending in my request now! If you write for Gaz would you write a fluffy a bit angsty piece for him coming home injured and exhausted from a mission and reader takes care of him? My boy needs some fluff 🥰

Thank you! I <3 you!

-Waiting-so-long

Gaz One Shot

Thank you so much @waiting-so-long for this request! I was super nervous to write this one but I’m so happy to write something for our underrated king! As always, requests are open and feedback is appreciated!

Warning: mentions of injury, probably so many medical inaccuracies I’m sorry, slight angst

Fem! reader

****************************************************

It was days like this that made you miss him the most. When the snow is piled high outside and everything is silent — not even the sound of children playing outside or people going to and from town.

It’s empty.

And you miss him.

You miss his warmth, the way he’d bundle you up in blankets and hold you on the couch, the way he’d whisper a joke and chuckle against your skin, the way he’d keep you in bed as long as he could.

“Where you off to, love? It’s freezin out. C’mon, you know the best way to stay warm is body heat, right?”

You pictured him here with you, you mind starting to wander as you imagined him in the kitchen with those grey sweatpants he knew you loved. He’d have them hanging low on his hips, his v-line starting to show. He’d be putting on a show for you, trying to rile you up, but insisting he has no idea what you’re on about when you playfully scold him for teasing you.

You’re snapped out of your thoughts by a key turning the lock on your front door; the key that only one other person in the world has.

Before the door is even fully open you’re up from the couch and rushing to greet him at the door. When you see him the wind is knocked out of you; maybe it’s the cold air trying to fight it’s way in your home, or maybe it’s the black eye and busted lip he’s sporting.

“Kyle,” you whisper, and he can hear the worry dripping from your voice. You reach up and gently cup his face in your hands, needing to confirm that he’s actually here. He made it back home to you.

“Hey, lovie,” he grins at you, feeling warmth spread across his chest as he takes in the sight of you. You look cozy and warm, soft and gentle, everything he hasn’t had over the past few weeks being on a mission. He ignores the pounding in his head and the aches in his bones and leans down to give you a soft peck on your lips.

“You miss me?” You can hear the smirk on his lips as he speaks, but you don’t miss the way his hand hasn’t left his lower ribcage. Or the way he isn’t standing completely upright, as his shoulders curve slightly downward.

“Of course I did, baby.” Your eyes scan his face, looking for any other signs of injury. “Are you okay? What happened?” You move your thumb towards the cut on his lip, but he gently grabs your hand to stop you.

“I’m fine, love, I promise. Just a little banged up. Nothin’ new.” He brings your hand to his lips and presses a soft kiss to it.

He shuffles himself inside and gently kicks the door shut. As he moves to take off his coat he lets out a soft groan and his hand immediately goes back to it’s place on his lower ribcage.

“Kyle, honey, let me help,” you say softly as you gently remove his jacket. Him being cut up and sore after a mission was routine at this point but this seemed different.

Normally when he came home he had that light in his eyes. He’d pick you up and hug you tighter than ever; but this time you don’t know if he’d even be able to pick you up. You felt anxiety settle deep in your stomach - something was wrong.

You place his jacket on the rack next to the door and the moment he hits the couch a long exhale leaves his lips. He takes a minute to sit with his eyes closed, his face scrunched up in pain while he thinks you’re not looking. He never wants you to see him like this. He never tells you the details of missions because he doesn’t want you to know just how dangerous his job actually is. He never wants his girl to worry more than she has to.

You sit down on the couch next to him and gently tap his shoulder, signaling him to lean back. He’s been dreading this part. It’s sort of a ritual you two have: you look him over for any bruises or scrapes and give them soft kisses. Sometimes he’ll even tell you the story of how he got them. This also normally leads to some really good sex.

But tonight he wants to skip this part. He doesn’t want you to see.

You slowly lift ups his shirt and let out a soft gasp when you see the deep purple and blue bruises that cover the right side of his ribcage.

“Just a little banged up? Kyle, this looks awful! What happened? How did-“

“Love, really, it’s nothing, I promise.”

You take in the sight of him and are struck with a reality that is always looming over your head no matter how much you try to will it away: you could lose him on any mission. He could leave and one day it would be Price returning home to you with a somber look and Kyle’s dog tags in his hand.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N. He didn’t…I did everything I could…”

You fell silent as you gently stroked his skin. The sound of Kyle speaking faintly registered in your brain with things like “three broken ribs” “said I could heal at home” and “not that bad, really” popping into focus every now and then. You feel the hot tears burning in your eyes and you try to will them away. You’re supposed to be comforting him. Not the other way around.

“Hey,” his tender voice called out as he cupped your face in his hand, wiping your tears away with his thumb. His hand felt like a small heater against your cheek and you tightly grasped it, grounding yourself in his touch.

“I made it back, darling. You know I always will, right?”

His eyes shone with the small smile on his face. He was always trying to charm you; to make you laugh and distract you from how bad a situation might actually be.

Your voice shook as you responded.

“But what if you don’t? What if one day you leave me and I can’t…I haven’t told you I love you enough and we have lived enough or done enough or-“

“Shh, lovie, breathe. You’re gonna make yourself sick worrying like that.”

He props himself up on his elbow in an effort to get closer to you and you can see how he bites back the urge to wince at the pain in his ribs.

“You’re the thing that keeps me goin, love. You’re my reason to keep fighting. As long as I can, I’m gonna fight like hell to get back to you. I promise you that. As long as you’re here waiting for me, then I’ll come back for you.”

He was the most honest man you’d ever met and you loved him so much it make your chest ache. You didn’t care of you’d resent yourself later on, wishing you had picked someone who hadn’t given their life for his team on a mission, you wanted to be with him - now and forever.

“I’ll always wait, Kyle.”

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