#so i need to raise the price a bit. sorry!!
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Lee Jihoon ✶ 𓂃 She got the Ruby
w.c : 3.0 k ┊ synopsis : Lee jihoon accidentally rizzed up a rich woman and successfully gets pegged by her┊ content warning : smut , sub jihoon, pegging , face sitting/oral sex , lowkey sugar mommy dynamic , uji and his ruby red kink (red lips + red heels + red strap)
a/n : thank you for 1k followers !! Also please remember reblogs are more helpful for the blog than just likes so please reblog! Add tags and comments to lemme know how you liked the fic!
The first time Jihoon meets you it's at a bar. He doesn’t drink often, much less goes to a bar, but he’d been having a creative block in his studio for too long and it had got him feeling weary of his own studio and his shitty studio was that last place he wanted to be.
You were sitting alone, and he’d thought he could flirt with you. Not that he really thought he had a chance at all, you looked so gorgeous, dressed up a little too formally for a bar, but gorgeous nonetheless, and all while he was wearing an old stretched tee over ripped jeans, his impulsively bleached hair long and messy. But his pockets were light and a whiskey hit harder than local beer and he wouldn't mind using a stranger to vent.
“Hey, buy me a drink?” He tried, sliding by you. In all honesty Jihoon doesn't know a thing about flirting and picking up (only if he had listened to a bit of Mingyu's bizarre flirting lessons). He was stiff and awkward, his smile tight.
“No, why would I?” You were colder on the inside than what appeared on the surface.
Jihoon held his hand up, “shit, sorry. I just had to try flirting once, y'know,” he said awkwardly, trying to retreat back.
“Oh,” you say, stopping him in his steps, “I didn't realise you were flirting.”
“You didn’t?” jihoon chuckles, “doesn’t it happen a lot to you? I'd find it hard to believe it if doesn't.”
“It doesn't,” you say, pulling the chair beside you to make space for him to sit. He raises his eyebrows at his own luck and slides into the seat, “what will you drink, then?”
“A whiskey sounds good,” Jihoon smiles, feeling a bit more confident now that you set the bar so low for him. You simply nod at the bartender who pours a neat glass of some expensive looking whiskey. He glances between you and the bartender, and feels the urge to stop you, “hey, that looks expensive, you don’t really have to-”
“Don’t bother the price,” you say, passing the glass to him, “you can continue flirting with me now.”
Jihoon doesn’t, infact, flirt. After just one glass of whiskey, he’s tipsy enough to spill every detail of his miserable life, from his sloppy job as a music artist and producer, to his shitty apartment at the outskirts of the city to his music block and absolute need for new inspiration.
When Jihoon got a little too drunk, you ordered a cab for him to drop him home.
He wasn't much of a talker usually, but alcohol in his system always made him a little weird. You had ended up knowing everything about your life. And he knew nothing but your name and the phone number you gave him.
The next morning he woke up with a hangover, still remembering last night. He tried to look up for you, in hopes of finding some social media so he knew a little more of you before he could think of contacting you.
Of everything else, he didn't expect the first thing to pop up would be a Wikipedia of your name. Oh.
Holy shit, did he just flirt with one of the richest business women in all of Korea!
He doesn't contact you after that knowledge, having read everything about you (especially your net worth). The number you gave him was probably fake too. Ugh, he'd probably embarrassed himself in front of you.
He met you again. And again. And again.
He'd learnt that you didn't go to bars often, you were just waiting for a business partner who was supposed to meet you there, only to have cancelled last minute due to his sick wife.
“I'm glad I waited to finish my drink.” You'd told him, making his ears and neck heat up.
You two were at a musical exhibit, where Jihoon had performed a few of his songs as the opening guest, dressed in the expensive tailored suit you bought him as you yourself dressed in a black bodycon formal dress finished with a blazer, your sleeves rolled up.
You'd bought him a rare expensive vinyl CD of his favourite Bruno Mars album.
“I can't take that, it's too costly,” he said. He didn't want you to think that he was friends with you just for your money, because he really wasn't. “Besides, I don't have a vinyl player.”
“I do,” You say nonchalantly, “you can come over and listen to it whenever you like.”
That isn't the only thing you buy for him. Every time he tries to nod you off for it being too expensive or too big for his place, you'd take it to yours. So he had naturally ended up spending a lot of time at your penthouse. It was big and spacious and you'd told him there was enough space to fit in all his musical accessories that he couldn't keep at his own apartment.
He'd come there often after finishing his work at studio. He'd been inspired lately, writing different songs and making new beats every now and then. He'd even send you a few samples for you to review.
“It sounds amazing,” you'd said as you pulled off his headphones, “what's the title?”
“Haven't thought of it yet. The chorus is still kinda funky. Once I get it the lyrics right, I'll have a title,” he said.
He often thought his hoodies and electric guitars and the drum set and all the vinyls and vintage albums you bought him didn't fit your house aesthetic. But you never said anything about it.
He's eating dinner with you now at yet another expensive and fancy restaurant you took him to. He thinks you look gorgeous. Really gorgeous. Just out-of-his-league gorgeous. Your silky slip red dress and red lipstick and matching red heals did things to his heart (and dick) he couldn't explain.
He just wants to bed you so bad. He wants you to fuck him so bad.
He watches as you order another bottle of champagne for the two of you. He should feel more guilty, he thinks, for taking so much from you. Instead, he feels comfortable and pleased. He's always been the provider and the protector in any of his previous relationships – not that he minded to be the same with you, but it felt good to be taken care of once instead. He feels safe around you, and happy as well, and he's not an easy talk, but you hear him talk whenever he talks too. And he doesn't know what he must have done to get someone as perfect as you in his life.
“Hey, why do you like me,” he'd said impulsively, “why me?”
You could have had anyone you want in this world. Jihoon firmly believed that, with not only your wealth but for how beautiful you were, inside and out. He thinks you don't realise that, but he knows it.
You look up at him, lips opening and closing slightly, before speaking, “would you… like to come home with me tonight?”
Jihoon's back hit the wall as soon as you two reached the bedroom of your penthouse, his lips feverishly kissing yours. You were strong – not stronger than him, but you also made him feel weak. You pinned him against the wall, your one hand holding two of his above his head as the other reached to hold a handful of his hair.
He'd moan in your mouth every time you'd tug a little too hard. He loved it. He loves how you tower over him in your 4-inches red high heels. He's usually very dominant in bed, but you make him feel so submissive.
He feels dumbbed out by the kiss when you pull away, panting as you place butterfly kisses over his jaw and neck. “Shit, y/n, I want you so bad,” he whispered against your hair.
“Will you strip for me, baby?”
Jihoon would do anything for you if you call him baby in your sweet, seductive voice. You leave his hands so he can help himself, unbuttoning the silk black shirt (that you bought for him), carelessly pulling them off his shoulders and yanking them off to the floor. He undid his trousers and pulled them down to his thighs, letting gravity do the rest of the work, all while you nibbled over the skin of his neck.
“These too, baby boy,” you said, tapping on his black CK boxer briefs. Shyly, but surely, Jihoon let go of those too, now completely bare in front of you. You looked down at him, your hand ghosting over the curves of his body, making Jihoon shiver. He could feels your stare over his dick, which had gotten half hard already. You rest your hand over his abs, meeting his eyes again, “Shit, you're so pretty, hoon.”
He wanted to say you were prettier, but his voice was stuck in his throat. You pressed another kiss on his lips before taking his hand and bringing him to your bed, making him sit on the edge. You stripped for him next, giving him a full show as you slipped off your dress, your matching black lace lingerie a sight to his eyes. He immediately put his hand to the back of your knee to pull you on the bed on top of him, but you pullled back, chuckling at him.
“Patience, my baby boy.”
Jihoon let out a shaky breath, pulling his hand back to himself as he watched you undo your bra and let it slip down your shoulders and onto the floor. His mouth watered at sight of your breasts, soft and heavy and perfectly shaped. He held himself back from touching you, even as his cock was completely hard against his torso by now. Your panties came down next, and when you bent down to take off your heels, he stopped you by your wrists, “c-can you not take them off yet?” he asked you, then added in a sweeter voice, “please?”
There was a smile on your face. “Of course, anything for my baby.”
Jihoon’s cheeks grew red a little again, and he looked up at you expectantly.
“What do you want, hoonie?” you cooed softly, cupping his cheek in your right hand, brushing a thumb on it slowly.
“I-i want you,” jihoon said shyly, embarrassed at stuttering the way he did.
You laugh at him. “You want me? You are gonna have to earn it baby.”
You gently guided his face to your crotch, lifting your one leg up on the bed to give him access. For jihoon, it was nothing short of a dream come true, to have his face smushed over the paradise of your pussy. He held your juicy thighs for support, as he licked a stripe between your folds. In return, he felt your grip on his hair tightening, pulling against his scalp. He was lapping you up like a dog after that. You were wet. So wet. And he wanted to drink all of your juices.
You were moaning softly above him as pushed you by your thighs closer to his face, sliding a tongue into your heat as his nose pressed against your clit. He couldnt help but want more. It wasn’t his fault, you had conditioned him to want the best of everything by spoiling him like that.
“Baby, can you sit on my face?” he asked, looking up at you with hooded eyes, and you nodded in a yes immediately. He let his body fall back on the bed and you scooted over to his head. You were still holding yourself up, trying not to squish his face. But jihoon wanted exactly for you to squish his face down, to be pressed against your pussy till he couldn’t breathe. So he pulled your thighs down so you were sitting on his face like it was a fucking stool.
He heard you gasp a little when his tongue was right back at action. He suckled on your clit a little, not enough to drive you over the edge, but just enough to make you moan above him. He put his tongue back in its place inside your vagina and he suddenly wished he had two tongues so he could simultaneously fuck you with one and play with your clit with the other. Unfortunately, he didn’t have that choice, so he simply settled on performing the best oral he ever has eith only one tongue.
His pace wasn’t too fast, so to make your experience last longer and better, but not so slow it would be annoying for you. It was the perfect pace to get you moaning. When he felt your thighs start to shake a little, he knew you were close. He put his mouth over your clit once again, sucking harder to ride you to your high, until you were wetting his face with your cum. Fuck, he couldn’t believe he made you squirt for his first time.
You scooted back to sit on his chest now, stabilizing yourself after the amazing orgasm jihoon gave you. He rubbed comforting small and warm circles on your thighs, until you were down from you high, looking down at him with a satisfied smile.
“was I good?”
“So good, baby,” you say, leaning down to kiss him, tasting yourself on his lips. “Gon’ make you feel s’good,” you say against his lips.
You both reposistion so that jihoon was lying down straight on the bed,his head supported by your pillows as you hovered on top of him, your knees encaging either sides of his hips. You kissed him again, your tongue finding it's way in his mouth, making him gasp, his hands gripping your shoulders with need.
“Are you sure you want me to fuck you?” You ask gently.
“Yes.”
“Have you ever done this before?”
“Mh,” Jihoon nods. He usually dominates his way in bed. He's good at it, doing all the work add giving his partners complete pleasure. But he's taken it before, and he can take it now too. He wants to take it. He wants to take you. “I want you so bad, y/n.”
He doesn't know how you do it, make him feel all weak and submissive for you. He waits patiently as you climb off him to get your strap-on. His palms are sweating and his cock is as hard as it can be as he watched you put on the harness. He didn't think someone could look as elegant and beautiful as you did while putting on a strap on.
The silicon end of the strap was a hot angry red, and matched with the red heels you still wore and your red lips intact from the smudge-proof lipstick makes Jihoon want to moan just looking at you. It's impossible for any being to look as sexy as you did at that moment. When you climbed back on the bed, pulling a lube bottle from the night table, his mouth almost watered at the sight of you.
You got between his legs, pulling his knees to either side of your hips so his ass was raised just enough for you to slip a hand under. You coated your fingers with an adequate amount of lube before circling his puckering hole, slipping in a digit. It made Jihoon arch his back with a moan muffled by his arm covering his mouth.
He'd cleaned himself before meeting you, but he was still tight. Your fingers were gentle, easing him at a comfortable pace. You leaned back down to his neck, nipping over the skin to mark your territory. You pushed his arm from his mouth, “let me hear you, beautiful.”
Jihoon was very vocal in bed, more so when he was submissive. Your fingers felt amazing on him. When he eased around one, you pushed another finger in, your hand caressing his thighs comfortingly.
Your fingers curled inside him, close enough to his prostate, making him whimper your name. You move up again, hungry for his lips, kissing him messily and sloppily as he moans against your mouth.
“Baby, do you think you're ready yet?” You ask him and he nods positively. Your silicone cock is big, bigger than him probably, but he thinks he could take you now. Besides, he'd like a little stretch of it too.
You smile against his lips, taking out your fingers and coating your cock with more lube. You enter the tip first, watching the man under you press his face into the pillow beside him, his drool sticking out as he moaned, taking the rest of it too. He relaxed around it, giving you a go to move.
You slam your hips against his, earning another loud sound from him. You couldn't care less about making noise, you lived in a penthouse with thick walls. You wanted to hear Jihoon moan and whimper your name, drink in his sweet noises.
As you accelerated the pace, Jihoon arched his back, whimpering little ah-ah-ah’s, clutching the bedsheets under him you held his thighs up, hosting his right knee on your shoulder to get the perfect angle to get to his prostate every time.
You loved the way Jihoon fell apart under you. You could tell he was close already, so you take hold of his leaking cock, giving it attention it needed finally. Not long after Jihoon is shooting white ropes all over his stomach, breathing heavily.
You bend down and kiss the satisfied smile on his lips, slowly exiting him as he relaxed down there. You took a few tissues from the night table and cleaned up Jihoon and yourself lazily before taking off your strap and heels. You lied down beside him, pulling a blanket over the two of you. You didn't need to be told that Jihoon wanted to cuddle, so you slipped on top of him yourself, resting your cheek against his shoulder and wrapping a hand around his waist.
“Felt good, baby?”
“Mm, s’good,” Jihoon sighed, hugging you tighter. Tonight was indeed productive. Not only did Jihoon get fucked up so good after so long, but he was also inspired by you(r red cock) and finally had a name for the track he'd been working on lately: Ruby.
#svt#seventeen#svt smut#svt x reader#woozi#woozi x reader#woozi smut#lee jihoon#jihoon x reader#jihoon smut#woozi x you#woozi imagines#jihoon imagines#jihoon#seventeen smut#svt imagines
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hi everyone! a little dils designs update, ill be raising my prices by $2 across the board after the preorders for the smile/frown pins close. If you've already ordered a pin, this won't affect you, but i just wanted to let everyone know in advance!
#dils declares#dils designs store#i have realised that im paying my bank every time i make a sale because the transactions are in a foreign currency#i cant have my store in xcd bc that currency isnt available#so i need to raise the price a bit. sorry!!
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141 and their captain’s assistant
- it all started with a comment made by Laswell, she mentioned to John how tired he seems, how his eye bags are growing heavier each day passing
- she recommended him to get an assistant, John declined the offer and tried to get back to work, but laswell already made the call, she knew how annoying John can be when it comes to getting help
- then enters a pretty little thing, your hair in a messy bun, glasses neatly resting on your pretty face, short pencil skirt hugging your curves perfectly
- John couldn’t help himself from staring, gawking at you like some horny teenager
- the boys began seeing you scurrying around the base more often, the first to approach you was Johnny of course
- his deep voice partnered with his thick Scottish accent made you subconsciously bite your lip, staring up at him with your big doe eyes, you don’t even mean to, it’s just that more than half of the people in here were 6feet+
- Johnny’s flirtatious nature made you giggle, lightened up your day, but not your boss’
- every time the Scott decided to drop by your desk to accompany you, he’d get scolded by his captain
- “don’t need you distracting her from her job”
- “it’s her break, cap, plus, she’ a good lass, I’m sure she’s on top of…all her work” the scott would throw you a wink before his captain orders him to run laps around the base
- next came gaz, since he’s always visiting his captain’s office for reports, he saw you at the new desk in the captain’s office, the aura around you not matching anything in the dim, old and boring office, you gave him a slight smile before returning to your paperwork
- but gaz wasn’t going to let that be the end of your interactions no no
- he’d walk up to you in the mess hall, as you’re loading your plate up, striking a conversation with you, making last long enough for him to lead you to a table with his other teammates
- you shyly but politely sit down and introduce yourself to the masked man who sat opposite of you, his brown eyes staring into yours as his arms stayed locked, he just nodded and replied “ghost”
- you figured he’s not a social one, the Scot and the Brit both kept asking you questions, some may have been a bit intrusive but maybe they’re just being friendly !
- “so why ar’ ye here?”
“Kate laswell requested that I work for John price for a few months to ease the paperwork load on him”
- “I’m sure there’s a different kind of load he’s trying to get you to ease off of him”
- the three of your heads snap to the silent man, his brown eyes seemed to be crinkled, suggesting he was grinning or smirking underneath that mask
- “OI! LT’s got jokes, but he doesn’t mean anything by it” Johnny tried to reassure you, glaring at Simon as you looked down at your food
- you excused yourself as you made your way back to price’s office, you saw him still there, no signs of him moving at all “captain ? Did you eat today?” You asked sweetly
- oh what this man wouldn’t give to have the honours of eating you for every meal of the day, to have you sprawled on his desk, papers sticking to your sweaty skin, your chest rising and falling as you try to quiet yourself so nobody hears what your captain is doing to you
- “captain” fuck he’d love to hear you moan his rank, begging him to be gentle, but he knows deep down you’re a dirty girl and you want your “captain ?!”
- John snapped out of his daydream, he looked up at you, you were leaning to the side trying to check on him “have you eaten today?” You asked again, a worried look in your eyes
- John nods, not looking you in the eyes “yeah yeah” he cleared his throat as he tried to get back to work, but your soft, smaller hand stopped him from grabbing his pen, his brown eyes looked up, ab eyebrow raised as if to ask ‘what are you doing?’
- “I’m sorry, captain but I can’t allow you to get back to work if you haven’t had food” you stated, your body trembling as you stood your ground
- truthfully, price can easily launch you across the room with one arm, he knows his limits, and you’re nowhere near it, but you were right, he does need to eat, and although he wishes he could order you to spread your pretty thighs for him and let him have his fun, he doesn’t want to lose such a pretty sight so fast
- he let go of the pen, leaning back on his office chair “I haven’t brought any food”
“The mess hall still have some food there”
- “I don’t eat that rubbish”
“Well too bad, you need to eat”
- ooh… I guess his little kitty got claws now
#call of duty modern warfare#call of duty#cod mw2#simon ghost riley#john price x reader#simon riley x reader#cod x reader#ghost x reader#captain price#ghost#john soap mactavish#kyle gaz garrick#kate laswell#john soap mctavish x reader#kyle gaz x reader
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why do you hate me?
tf141 men reacting to their spoiled gf saying “why do you hate me?” when she isn’t getting enough attention.
warnings -> 18+, f!reader, dom + sub dynamics, brat taming, allusions of impact play [spanking], petnames.
CAPTAIN JOHN PRICE
“excuse me?”
john’s eyebrows raise almost comically high. if it wasn’t for the stern glare taking over his features, you’d be giggling by now. instead you stay standing in front of him, shuffling on your feet with the same big pout you murmured your dumb question through. you despise making him upset with you—
at the same time, though… you feel those little sparks in your tummy when he pushes himself back from his desk and pats his lap. beckoning you to come sit on those strong thighs so he can sweet talk some sense to you. your feet can’t move fast enough, shuffling in your soft socks against the carpet. the rough denim of his jeans rubs against your own uncovered thighs as you shuffle in his lap.
“don’t ya think you’re being a silly girl?” it’s a simple question, but one you’re not exactly prepared for nonetheless.
your eyes meet his and there’s no way you can possibly shy away from his gaze. so you nod dumbly, and john’s chest rumbles with an approving hum. a strong hand cradles the back of your head, coaxing you to relax against his chest so he can put an end to this bratty streak you have in you rearing it’s ugly head.
SIMON GHOST RILEY
“what the fuck are y’on about?”
“just forget it, simon.” you bite back, turning on your heel to march away from him.
you hear his heavy sigh and it’s only a matter of seconds before the pair of big hands he has squeezes your waist, pulling you back into him until he’s able to growl right over the shell of your ear. you turn your head, tilting it upwards and meeting his fury filled eyes. it takes everything in you not to grin wildly and piss him off more than you already have— especially when you can practically feel the soreness his fingers will leave behind in your sides already.
“dumb pet,” he grits out, “could never hate you, not even when you act like this…”
at those words, you press a gentle kiss to his masked lips. and you know for a fact he’s rolling his eyes, tired of your theatrical tendencies and outbursts, but that doesn’t stop him from nudging your nose with his own. from pulling you closer and snorting out a breathy laugh.
“you’re still gonna fuckin’ get it later, y’know that right?”
JOHNNY SOAP MACTAVISH
“how dare ye?”
you know— you just know— that you’ve really fucked up this time. why would you say such a thing? why would you be such a nasty girl to the man who does everything for you? sure, he didn’t have his eyes on you for a bit— bless him, he just wanted to decompress after some training. and here you come, stomping over to him like a proper fusspot.
in a second, you’re tugged into his lap by your wrist. you clumsily fall on top of him but johnny is quick to readjust you, to make sure you’re getting a good look at his disappointed face.
“do ye even know what you’re saying?” he speaks lowly, doesn’t care how much your bottom lip wobbles under his harsh tone, “because i really don’t think ye do.”
“johnny, i’m sorry— i really—” you attempt blubbering out. however he presses his thick index finger against your pout, shushing you in an instant.
“fucked up again, bonnie.” he tsks.
maybe he’s right. you don’t know what you’re saying. you know better; you know what he likes to be called when you two find yourselves in situations just like this one, when you need to be put in your place. that’s why you don’t resist when he guides you to lay over his lap tummy down…
KYLE GAZ GARRICK
“princess, come on…”
kyle begins, treading carefully around your huffing form. strong arms loop around you from behind, humming softly when you melt right into him despite your bratty demeanor. you can feel him smile against the side of your warm face, while his scent and warmth invades your senses, calming you down immediately.
“you know that’s the farthest from the truth,” he whispers, kissing your cheek with an obnoxious smooching sound tacked on to each one. it prompts you to giggle and kyle laughs right along with you when he sees how much your nose scrunches up with happiness.
“there’s my sweet girl!”
he squeezes his arms around you, ignoring you when you shamefully apologize for being so ridiculous… because he knows deep down in his heart he’d let you get away with murder. so he shushes you with more kisses and murmurs about just how much he loves you, and plans on doing the same thing between your pretty thighs later on.
#🤍.cod#call of duty x reader#cod x reader#captain john price x reader#john price x reader#simon riley x reader#simon ghost riley x reader#johnny soap mactavish x reader#johnny mactavish x reader#kyle gaz garrick x reader#kyle garrick x reader#call of duty headcanons#cod headcanons#⌨️.luxe's writing
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Car Shopping - LN4
Featuring: Lando Norris x reader
Warning(s): disrespectful car guy, Lando being basically a trophy boyfriend, Lando being a cutie (GOD THIS IS SO AWFUL. I'm sorry but I just got back to writing, pls have mercy on me)
Summary: Y/n decided to finally buy her dream car since she was a child, Lando is accompanying her but the car guy is misunderstanding.
Y/n, a pretty famous model, shouted her boyfriend name in the Monaco attic, entering the living room and sitting on the couch next to Lando, her boyfriend.
"I'm gonna buy it"
she started, earning a confused look on the Formula 1 driver.
"you're gonna buy... what?"
he asked, trying to understand what she was talking about, but suddenly his eyes widenened with realization.
"is it the YSL heels? no, princess, I was gonna get them for you"
he whined, making Y/n aw at his antics.
"you are gonna get them for me? that's really sweet, but it's not them"
she said with a big smile, making Lando furrow his eyebrows.
"is it the Minaudière make up by Dior, then?"
he tried, but getting a shook of head from Y/n.
"come on, Lando. think harder"
Y/n insisted, looking at him with big doe eyes, making him understand in an instant.
"the Porsche. you're getting the Porsche GT3 RS"
Lando said, sitting up with the biggest grin that you've ever seen. with just a nod of your head, Lando was already hugging you tightly, yelling at the top of his lungs as he pulled you on top of him on the couch.
"are you for real?"
he asked, pulling back a little to look you in the eyes.
"I checked if the dealer in Monaco had it in their site, and it says that they could get it shipped here"
you squealed as Lando yelled again and pulled you back in the hug.
"gosh, I'm so happy. are we going now? can I come with you?"
he asked, making you nod your head and get up to get ready to leave.
Time skip: at the dealer
Lando was parking his McLaren in the parking lot when you walked into the big shop and started searching for someone to help you.
the faint voice of someone almost arguing caught your attention.
"it's a girl, shut up John, you got the last one. look at that bag, her husband it's surely filthy rich- hi"
a guy came in front of you, as you recognized his voice as the guy that was arguing with the other worker earlier, noticing how his eyes were setting on the Birkin Lando had gifted you for Christmas.
"my name is Mike, how can I help a pretty girl like you?"
he asked, a sick smile on his lips that almost made you gag. you put a smile on anyway, since you were a really polite person.
"uhm... yes, hi. I read on your site that you can get the blue Porsche GT3 RS shipped here, right?"
you asked politely, making Mike's eyes widen and nod his head.
"sure, come I'll help you"
he said, starting to walk towards his computer, the sound of your heels clicking on the ground echoing on the walls.
"no husband?"
Mike asked, sitting at his desk and searching around for what he needed.
"my boyfriend is parking his car outside"
you corrected him, making him nod.
"you know what you're getting into?"
Mike asked again, making you smirk as you wanted to put a stop to his teasing and attempts to fool you.
"of course I know"
you said, hearing a faint 'damn it' come from the man behind the desk.
"alright, the car is gonna cost a bit much, but I'm sure you already know that since you know what you're getting into. I mean, it's a Porsche, there's not much I can do about it. so... the price is gonna be 320.000 euro-"
"WHAT?!"
Mike couldn't even finish his sentence that Lando's shout could be heard from the other side of the open door.
"that's a robbery-"
he started, but your raised hand stopped him as you got up from the seat in front of Mike's desk. you gave Lando your Birkin as you leaned on Mike's desk.
"Mike, that price is 60.000 euros over the actual price. I accept the fact that you didn't recognize me, but you surely recognize my boyfriend, right?"
the car dealer gulped as he nodded his head.
"now... don't you feel ashamed trying to scam a girl that's been around cars since she was a child and is now in a relationship with a Formula 1 driver? don't you think that I might really know what I'm getting myself into, huh?"
you asked the man, still leaning on the desk.
"I'm far too good for letting you still sit on that chair behind that desk"
you finished, a scoff left your lips as you took your Birkin back and walked out of the concessionary with Lando's hand on your lower back, opening the door for you.
"princess"
he called before you could reach the McLaren, making you hum and turn towards him. Lando placed both his hands on your arms in comfort.
"I know you're angry. why don't we go to that fine restaurant that you like and take a walk around the track, just the way you like?"
he asked softly, getting a sad nod in return as he pulled you close, his lips on your forehead.
"my princess"
he sighed, kissing your lips and smiling down at you.
"I'm gonna make sure we have a consultation with another dealer next time, promise"
#formula 1#formula one#formula 1 x you#f1 fluff#lando x reader#lando norris#lando imagine#ln4#lando#lando norris x you#lando norris x y/n#lando norris x reader
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No One Needs to Know... Right?
This is my humble little addition to @glitterypirateduck O, Captain! Challenge ❤️
Prompt 17, 69 and 83
Warning: alcohol intake, smut, a bit rough Price, oral sex, dacryphilia if you squint (like, just a line) and I love to make him desperate for pussy. Enjoy ❤️
“I have told you once, and I'll tell you twice, Kate.” Price says, pinching his nose bridge as exasperation fills him. “I am not, working with Adamson.”
“And I have already told you twice, John.” Laswell answered, just as annoyed. “That there is no other choice, this is coming from upstairs and there is no room for negotiation. I'm sorry”.
It wasn't the first time that Price had needed to work along with another unit, but Colonel Adamson was surely the worst.
The old man constantly had his head inside his own ass, too busy complimenting himself to care about the success of the mission or about everyone getting back home safely.
He was not a man you would like to have to trust your life on and know John didn't have another option. So all be could do, was get mentally prepared for what was to come.
And to do so, he relied on his old run-down trusty pub just out of base. He sat down on the stool he always did, ordered his scotch on the rocks as always and remained silent, letting the voices in his head quiet down.
Just silence.
Alone.
Like always.
“I'll have the same he's having” A female voice next to him brought him back.
He looks to his side, staring at the woman sitting down next to him. The pub is not necessarily fancy, but still, the jeans, t-shirt and sweatshirt you are wearing give it away you got here soon after work and not necessarily for pleasure.
“It's this seat taken?” You ask the man, worried now that he won't stop staring at you.
“No, no, please sit down.” He answers quickly, the smile on his face contagious. “Hard day at work?”
“What gave it away?” You ask puffing a laugh, you look down at his glass. “Yours wasn't that great either or that the celebration?”
He chuckles, wide shoulder shaking slightly as he does. “Definitely not celebration.” He raises the glass to his lips, your eyes following the glass and staring for maybe a second too long on his lips.
It is easy to fall into a comfortable conversation with the man, a mix of dad jokes and a level of understanding that someone with the same job would have. Still, neither of you talks about your jobs, both because it is the reason you are in a pub getting drunk and also because it is not an easy job to talk about.
You don't notice how close you have gotten to each other until you are resting your head on your hand with your elbow resting on the bar and you try to rest the other arm on the backrest of the stool only to find Price is already resting his in there.
You look at his face as you lay your arm on top of his, looking for any sign of discomfort, only to find that easy smile on his face again. You open your palm, letting it rest over his massive biceps; the wild thought of it around your neck as he fucks you from behind running through your mind for a second.
“I think I have drunk too much.” You admit chuckling, rubbing your face with your other hand.
Now, Price is not a stupid man; and the way you bit your lip unconsciously when you touched him, your eyes getting darker just for a second let him know perfectly fine what your feelings were.
“Want me to walk you home, sweetheart?” He asks, looking at your face to see your reaction; and when he sees you look at his eyes only to drop your eyes to his lips he smiles widely.
“Well, aren't you a gentleman…” You mumble standing up, taking your card out of your pocket to pay.
“Please, my treat.” He says, taking his out as well.
You quickly shake your head. “Nope, I'm paying tonight, sir. You can pay next time, how about that?” You ask, winking at him as you do.
He chuckles, putting his card away amused with your antics and waiting for the bartender to charge you. Once done, he walks next to you, his hand on the small of your back. “How far away is your house?”
“My Airbnb actually, just down the road.” You answer, pointing with your finger where it is.
Sadly, it doesn't take long to reach it, and even though you opened the door the two of you linger in the doorway.
“You know… the weather broadcast said that it was going to rain tonight…” You say, knowing damn well the British man couldn't care less about the rain.
“Oh no… I guess I better get inside, right?” He smiles, taking a step forward towards you.
You quickly nod your head. “Yeah, we don't want you getting wet.” You pull his shirt, making him lean down and crush your lips with his.
His arms find their way around your waist, hugging you close and pulling you up the floor. You barely manage to close the door once the two of you enter the flat; a mess of tongue, spit and drunk words spilling out of your mouths.
Your legs find their way around his waist, him holding you up gentleman-like with both hands on your ass. He pulls you closer, letting you feel his growing erection against your clothed cunt; earning himself a moan falling for your lips. “Fuck…”
“John, sweet girl. That's my name, moan it loud so I know how good I'm making you feel, alright?” He asks, groaning when you grind yourself against him.
“John…” You moan softly, pulling your head back and that's all he needs to attack your neck. Pulling his tongue flat against your collarbone and up to your ear like a desperate dog.
He sits you on top of the sofa backrest, moving his hands to pull your sweatshirt and t-shirt off. Groaning when he sees the sports bra, almost offended that there is another layer to peel.
You chuckle at his desperation, only for him to suddenly move his hips forward against your cunt making you moan. “That's better.” He murmurs against your mouth once he manages to take off your bra.
He leans down, catching your nipple with his teeth before sucking it inside his mouth, groaning as he does. His arms circle your middle, pulling you tightly as he keeps grinding your core; too desperate to remain immobile.
He moves lower, his tongue running from the middle of your chest down your boob up to your side, bitting down over your ribs making your moan mix with a hiss.
Your hands find his hair at the back of his head, pulling hard enough to force him to peel his face back. Looking back at you, eyes dark with desire, lips red, swollen and wet for the kiss and licking at you and stupidly smug smile on his face. Makes you want to wipe it from his face.
“Up, to the bedroom, now.” You order, pulling him closer with your legs around his hips.
“Yes, ma’am” He chuckles, picking you up again; groaning when you lower your face to attack his neck. Licking up his neck, feeling his heartbeat under his skin just as fast as yours.
He enters the doorway to your room, hitting your knee against it as he does making you curse. “Fuck, John. That's how your aim is going to be tonight?” You ask teasingly, your knee hurting just enough to complain.
“Oh, shut up. My aim is impeccable, sweetheart” He answers scoffing, as he sits on the bed with you on his lap.
“Aw, did I hit a weak spot?” You ask, cocking your head with a fake pout in your mouth.
“Darling, I don't have weak spo-” He cuts himself up with a struggling moan when you lower your hand to grab his erection through the clothes.
You chuckle against his mouth, kissing his half-open mouth. “I want to taste you, John” You whisper keeping your eyes focused on his expression.
He smiles, happy with your urge to satisfy him, and kisses you back. “Yeah? You want me to fuck your throat, sweet girl? Why don't you do it with your pretty pussy resting on my face, hm?”
You whine back, brain slowly turning to mush; barely managing to stop kissing him for long enough to stand up and take off the rest of your clothes. He does the same, lying down using your pillow to prop his head up and staying with an arm extended inviting you in. And fuck if the sight is nothing but inviting, you knew his dick was big just from sitting on top but you were not ready to see the big, uncut, thick piece of meat sitting between his legs; too heavy to stand up on his own and instead slowly dripping precum onto his thick thigh. Watering your mouth at the thought of how his happy trail will rub against your clit later on the night.
You crawl back onto the bed, completely forgetting about the sitting on his face part and focusing on getting him into your mouth. Until a hard slap lands on your ass making you cry and turn your head to look at him offended.
“That's not where your pussy is supposed to be at, innit?” He asks, raising an eyebrow. And when you take too long to move for his liking, he takes matters into his own hands grabbing your hips to hoist you on top of him with ease which only adds to your current horniness.
“Ffffuck, that's a sight I would fucking kill to wake up to every day” He groans behind you, deep voice making you clench with desperation which makes him chuckle. “Hmm, she likes it when I talk about her.”
And it feels like you are intruding on whatever is going on between him and your pussy with the way he is talking about it like it is her whole person. So not wanting to interrupt, you bend down fisting his dick in your hand as you wet kiss his tip.
“Aww, did you get jealous that I was giving her some attention, darling?” He says, apparently completely unaffected by your attention to his cock which only makes you crankier.
You get his tip on your mouth, completely ignoring him when suddenly he moves his hand down to the back of your head grabbing your hair in a fist and keeping your head in place only for him to begin to thrust his cock into your mouth and down your throat.
You automatically start choking on it, gagging and wet sounds filling the rooms. You manage to relax just throat just a bit, which he takes as an invitation to shove his cock inside until your nose is plush against his balls.
Tears prick your eyes at the abuse of your throat and the lack of air, hearing him groan at every convulsion of your throat around him and he only pulls back when you dig your fingernails on his thighs.
The hand on your head pulls your head back making you arch your back as you gasp for air, thick threats of saliva still connecting your lips with his glistening dick as you cough.
“I asked you a question, I don't like it when I get ignored, love. Alright?” He asks a certain gentle tone to his voice that totally throws you out of place. You nod quickly, a croaky “yes” the only thing you are able to answer.
“Good girl.” He says, letting go of your hair to pet your head slightly pushing it to rest on his hip close to the pool of spit at the base of his cock. “Just lay there, darling. Let me enjoy my treat.”
You have barely managed to get your breath back when he takes it away again by running his tongue from your clit all the way up to your ass, groaning as he does so.
“So fucking delicious, so fucking good.” He groans, moving his arms under your tights to pull you impossibly closer to his mouth, making you moan loudly when he sucks your clit inside his mouth rubbing his tongue against it.
He looks pussy drunk already, a chaos to the way he is eating you up; going up and down, side to side, fucking your holes with his tongue, grabbing your ass with his massive hands pulling them apart to get the whole view, eating you out like a starved man.
It's hard to get air into your lungs with the way you are moaning again and again, grabbing onto his hips to ground you feeling him pull you again and again against his face; it should be you fucking his face instead it feels the complete opposite.
“Fuck, John, I'm gonna…” You moan, toes curling as you feel your orgasm approach. “I'm gonna come, John. Don't stop, please, don't stop.”
He chuckles, delighted with your begging before shoving two of his thick fingers inside your cunt making you hiss at the sudden stretch and throwing you off, orgasm getting further away and making you whine pathetically at its loss.
“Quiet down, I'm getting you there but I need your tight little pussy nicely wet and stretched before I get my cock in you.” He groans after spanking you again before he starts to move his finger in and out, adding a third one not too much later making you cry in pleasure. “You can take another one, right, love? You won't get my cock if you don't.”
“I can!” You moan embarrassedly fast. “I can, please, put it in, please.” You move your hips back against his hand, moaning loudly when he gets the last finger inside only keeping his thumb out to rub your clit making you moan loudly against the skin of his lower stomach
“Attagirl, c’mon, sweet girl. Come around my fingers so I can fuck your pretty pussy all nice and sweet.” He cheers you on, moving his hand faster. You bite down on his abs, the layer of fat that covers them catching between your lips making him hiss as you come, clutching down so hard his fingers get spitted out of your cunt.
He groans, licking your juices again making you jolt at the feeling, shoving his whole face against your cunt getting drenched in your juices. Only pulling back when he runs out of breath, letting you fall down on his side, your leg still resting on top of his chest.
“Pretty thing winking at me and everything.” He coos, running his thumb along your hole making you shiver and slightly slapping his leg.
“Let me breathe, for fuck sake.” You barely managed to say, still struggling to breathe. He chuckles, moving your leg off his chest and grabbing you by your waist to sit you on top of his abdomen not caring about getting his torso wet.
He rests his hands on your hips, with you resting yours on his chest and he looks at you with a smile on his face but still trying to catch your gaze. “You alright, darling?” He asks, his thumb rubbing circles on your hips.
“Yeah.” You answer nodding, noticing a certain tense feeling leaving his body. “I just need a second, that was… that was something.”
He laughs, his eyes disappearing into thin lines as he does. “I hope something good… do you wanna stay on top? Set the pace?”
You nod quickly, agreeing it is possible the best for the both of you and you look behind you. “We can wait, love. We have no rush- ah, fuck.” He groans when his tip catches onto your entrance, making the both of you moan as you slowly sink deeper. The stretch of his cock inside of you leaves you with shaky legs as you dig your fingernails on his chest. You bend down, resting your head on his shoulder needing a moment to adjust. He doesn't say anything, kissing your temple softly and rubbing his hand up and down your back.
You grind your hips against his, moving slowly, his dick barely moving but still enough to make the both of you softly moan. You sit back up, resting your hands on his chest as you start to slowly move up and down, his tips deliciously grazing your cervix kissing it with each thrust, so deep you almost feel it on your stomach.
You move slowly, choosing depth over speed; his hands on your waist helping you up and down as his eyes travel down your body to where you are connected to him.
“That's it, darling. Take what you need.” Price says between moans, not moving his hips. And if he hasn't fucked you stupid already, you would. You would turn the man into a puddle, make a mess out of him, have him babbling nonsense, too pussy drunk to even remember his name. But instead, it is you the one who can barely stand straight, whining about the tiredness of your legs aching for a break and you bend forward resting your hands on the headboard of the bed, wanting to cry.
“I can't… please, move. I can't, please, John, please.” You cry, legs shaking too exhausted to keep moving.
“Shh, sweet girl, don't cry.” He says, propping himself on his elbows to lick at your cheek where a tear spills. “It only turns me on more, love.”
He lays back down, chuckling when you whine again and he wraps his arms around your waist pulling you close, setting his feet on the mattress just to start thrusting up into your core hard and fast.
You cry in pleasure at the sudden change in rhythm, arching your back and making it easier for him to get your nipple in his mouth, moaning and biting around it.
“Such a good fucking girl, taking my cock like a fucking champ.” He moans, forehead pressed against your chest. “Cum around my cock, darling. I want to feel you choke my dick like you did with my fingers, c’mon, pretty girl, come for me.”
And it is like he has godly powers over you because with the way he keeps thrusting up and at the same time as he talks to you has you coming embarrassing fast. Clutching his dick like a vice making him struggle to keep moving but without giving up, coming inside just after a couple more thrusts.
You lay down on his chest, both of you breathing hard but without moving. He pets your hair, brushing it back behind your ear, running his finger through undoing some of the knots he finds. “You're alright, darling?”
“Greater than great, John.” You answer smiling, raising a bit to kiss him on the lips, slightly moving your hips making you both groan. “A shower?”
“A shower indeed.” He chuckles, kissing you deeply for what feels like a second before helping you stand up before standing up himself.
It is a sweet innocent shower, soft kisses on your shoulder and sweet kisses on his shoulder blade; helping the other clean up like a couple who have known each other for years.
Once outside, you lay on your bed naked looking at him as he dresses up. He bends down to give you one more kiss before muttering: “Never in my life have I hated my job as much as right now for making me leave you like this, and with the kind of job I have it says a lot, sweet girl.”
You chuckle shaking your head, softly slapping his cheek. “You are just being dramatic, John.”
He grumbles back, standing up and you walk after him to the door hiding behind it once he opens it. You peek your head outside, saying goodbye and once you think he is leaving he turns around.
“You know… I'm gonna be quite busy this week, but next week, same day and time as today I'll probably drop by the bar again… in case we coincide again…” He says, indirectly asking you out making you chuckle at the fact he is shy to ask you out as if he didn't have you choking on his dick just an hour ago.
“I'm sure we will, John.” You say, making him smile fondly. He gives you one more kiss before he disappears down the street.
The next morning, Price is not so happy. He barely makes it into the brief room before the rest of the team walks in. But it's not his boys who make him mad, it's the colonel who walks after them, cane in hand.
“Colonel Adamson” Prices greets him, greeting his teeth as he does.
“John.” The older man answers, a disgusting smile on his face as if he just told the best joke of his life. “So you are still alive… maybe you are not as bad as I thought.”
“I don't need to prove myself to you, and this is merely a business meeting.” He says, already done with him pointing to the empty chair before him. “Please, sit.”
“Actually, sorry to disappoint you, John. But I retired last year, I'm not the one working with you this time.” He says, walking closer to him, raising the cane to slap on the opposite hand. “It's my daughter, you see? And if I hear that anything happens to her under your watch, you better die on that mission, son. Or I'll take care of it. I don't want a scratch, bruise or tear on my girl's face, understood?”
“She'll be fine.” Price answers, not really threatened by the man, feeling that if his daughter is anything as repulsive and just plain horrible to deal with no one will even think about laying a finger on him.
“There you are.” A voice draws his attention, a voice uncomfortably familiar. “I told you to wait for me, Dad.”
“Sorry, dear. Just wanted to greet my old friend before leaving you at it.” He says the first genuine smile John has ever seen on the man, and it is only because he is talking to you.
His daughter.
Of the man that just threatened him about touching you.
Is okay, he just needs to play it cool and no one needs to no.
Right?
“Oh. Hi, John.” You say enthusiastically. “Why didn't you say you were coming here too? You could have stayed the night.”
Fuck
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Ok but like what about Wendigo reader? Maybe the team knows she's not exactly human but maybe in her file it just marked n/a and leaves it at that so they just assume that their sweet little medic is just a helpful spirit of some kind. Humans tend to give her a very wide birth since they seem to notice her as something they should leave the fuck alone, the boys just assume it's because of them always being near her and leave it at that. Till they're all on a mission and it all goes to shit, they're pinned down and then one of them ends up taking a bullet and reader just straight up fuckin losses it and next thing they know their is a 10 ft tall fuckin deer monster shredding bitches like their made of PAPER MACHE and EATING THEM, once the dust settles it moves towards them and slowly it shifts into their sweet medic but she is covered in blood and she just casually starts treating their wounds and the team is just like "Well mark me down as scared and horny" (if this makes no sense feel free to ignore)
Stag
Pairing: Monster 141 + Horangi & König x Wendigo!reader
Cw: cannibalism, human eating, greed, blood, canon-typical violence, tell me if I missed any.
Wc: 2k
(A/N): I felt a bit burnt out so I’m sorry if it’s bad, I reread it just in case, but it still feels bad.
They say that human greed is the source of evil, the all-consuming hunger for more —more than they need. Hunger drives humans to do the unspeakable, to break the line humanity had drawn and commit the taboo. Despite it being carved so deeply into the human psyche, passed down from generation to generation and the propaganda of humanism and equality, it doesn’t take much to make someone tip over, cross the edge nobody dared to and perform the unspeakable. Possession causes needs and needs cause greed.
That’s why people called to him for help, to carry out a clandestine mission to do their dirty work, his duty was to stop whatever men in power started, whatever men in power lost control —he was the one sent when they were scared. Fear was as coercive as power was. That was the reason Task Force 141 was first founded, to stop dangerous men like Hassan (Gaz remembered hearing from Soap that Ghost shot Hassan through the head, straight through him before he slumped down.) and Makarov, a man they were still searching for while signing a liaison contract with KorTac. Price, with Laswell’s help, managed to put the best of the best together: a wraith, a werewolf, a dragon, a harpy, a nagual and a cadejos vessel, all decorated with various medals for their work, and then there was you.
You were a mystery, even to Price who usually had clearance for anyone who joined them. Gaz knew, from a single glance, that you were far from human, you were a monster like Ghost was, turned after an occasion, or a hybrid like him. Surprisingly, Ghost seemed to welcome you warmly, albeit standoffish, having worked with you in the past, seeing that you both preferred working alone. Gaz wanted to show you the same heartwarming welcome as Ghost had, but there was something about you, an uneasiness he felt when he was around you. The others felt it as well, the innate need to keep their distance from you and the instinctual fear that had the hairs on their arms raised. Gaz could feel your eyes whenever you stared at him, like the eyes of a predator stalking its prey —it made him feel perturbed.
You seemed so human, yet so inhuman-like, your dull, thousand-yard stare, your inability to feel temperature (either cold or warm, you always wore the same clothes), your odd habits and your unusual calmness in every situation. Gaz had caught you staring at a private for much longer than what people considered normal, eyes glazed over and dilated as if you were seeing something else, daydreaming while being aware of your surroundings. Those were your moments, you were usually bubbly, always smiling at him whenever his eyes met yours or treating him with gentleness and always eager to help him. You had a softness to your being despite the eerie feel to you and your unique tendencies, you didn’t discriminate, nor did you show an ounce of hate towards hybrids and humans, treating everyone fairly.
Although you tried to fit in as best as you could, there were things that Gaz and the others just couldn’t shake off without questioning things. There was the lingering scent of blood on you, a metallic tang that stuck on his tongue after you walked by. König and Soap had confessed that they had a feeling that blood was a part of your scent, unwashable and impossible to hide, it clung to you like a second skin. They chalked it up to you being the Task Force’s medic, having brought people back from the brink of death and stitching men back together, you were practically bathed in the smell of blood and death every day.
Another thought was that they never saw you in the Mess hall for food, perhaps a cup of tea or a hot mug of coffee to boost you through a long shift in the infirmary as the base’s main medic if you weren’t deployed with them. Gaz never saw you eat, not once had he seen you hold a plate or bowl with substance for yourself. You would bring either of them a plate, caring for them whenever they were under your watch, giving them soup or anything that they could easily digest.
Gaz, Soap, Rudy and Horangi would chatter about you, throwing speculations on your breed, to see what hybrid or monster fit all your characteristics. You couldn’t be a wraith, your hands weren’t painted with death, a dark miasma that clung to you. You weren’t a werewolf, Soap would know, wolves were able to smell and recognize each other, it was an instinctual aspect of him. You weren’t any shifting hybrid either, there would be signs, little cues if you were one, and your classification wouldn’t be classified, painted over with a red line.
All they could was wonder and amble around with curiosity dripping from their tongues. Gaz was sure that he’d find out soon enough, whether it was an accident or your choice.
This wasn’t what Gaz meant by eventually, he didn’t mean being set up by Konni, a trap planted for them in the small Belgium town. It was the best set to box them in, a broken and ransacked ghost town that people fled from, walls greyed and cracked, the paint peeling off street lights and rusted metal poles, lost, forgotten and open. There didn’t have any cover, even if they ran and hid behind the crumbling walls, Konni had them surrounded on every end, concealed behind concrete walls and using the shadows to hide from sight.
It was chaotic, Konni had pushed them into an open area of the town, the centrepiece of it with a dilapidated, Greek fountain, chipped on the sides and green with mould, Gaz would’ve admired the architecture and the beauty it must’ve been in the past when it was still being cared for. They were backed up in a corner, Gaz couldn’t even stretch his wings out with how tightly they were packed together, the uncomfortable pull of his trapezius and the strain in his limbs kept him grounded. The tension was thick, palpable, Gaz could taste it in the air as much as anyone could, their shoulders tense, fingers tapping the trigger of their rifles. All they could do was wait for Konni to act first, to see where they would appear from and work their way out of this open area from there.
He had his back towards you, he couldn’t see you but he could feel you shake. It might’ve been from the adrenaline pumping through your veins or the nerve of being lied to, of falling into a trap when Ghost had voiced his suspicions about the lack of clearer intel. They were paying for their amateurism. He felt you shudder, breath stuttering, near panting with exhaustion. Gaz wanted to turn to you, words soothing your nerves and twitchy appearance, he acted letting drown in your mind, whatever it was, he hated it. His finger twitched on the trigger, jolting at the sudden crack of bones, an ugly and painful sound that made him wince. It shocked everyone, even the ever so silent and stoic Ghost who had a hard time hearing these cracks coming from you.
Damn this mission; damn the trap; damn this situation, Gaz needed to look at you, to see why your bones were breaking and limbs rattling. Instinctively, his wings shifted to cover you, the ends widening to cover your sides to protect you from whatever pained you, yet you didn’t let out a single squeak, no moan of pain or the grunt of suffering, you were silent. A part of his mind nagged at him to move, he could fly and try to outrun Konni mercenaries to find a way out, but then he’d leave your back open. He cursed lowly, teeth sinking into his lower lip in frustration, he was-
A loud screech thundered through the air, and screams and squelches followed it. You were missing.
You were shaking just a second ago, body wracked with some unknown ailment and the next, you were missing, your sack, attire, rifle and helmet were scattered on the ground, with a bony creature tearing through Konni ranks. The hair on his neck rose, an uneasy feeling overtaking him as he watched the creature rip men in half, tines stabbing through their torso like a buck fighting another, head lowered and antlers pointed forward. He watched the tall and thin monster move around, its face was one of a deer’s skull, eaten clean of skin and flesh, any muscle or fibre gone with whatever transformation it took. A crown of antler adorned its head, tall and imposing, as pale as its skull, a coat of black fur was wrapped around the neck, draping down the back like a ridge of fur.
“Fuck,” Gaz hissed, his body moving along the chaos the being created and your disappearance, he aimed his rifle and shot at the Russians who ran out of their hiding, fearful of the monster’s sudden arrival behind their ranks. “Captain! Is that-?”
“Don’t know anymore!” Price seemed to be as lost as Gaz was, reining in his confusion to focus on taking Konni out. “Keep your head in the game, Gaz; ask questions later.”
Gaz knew Price was right, the town was brimming with Russian ultranationalists, hiding and waiting for their time to jump at them. The situation was still chaotic, but it was better than being without cover. Gaz followed Horangi behind a wall, watching his back while they worked through the humans.
Somehow, Konni either retreated or were all dead, swallowed down by the beast that stood before them. Now that Gaz was standing so close to it - to you, after a few minutes of talking back and forth, they concluded that this was you from the pants that hung from your slim hips - he could see that the deer skull was just a mask covering your face, black and unidentifiable with those bright, gleaming eyes that stared down at him. Despite your curved back, bent to look at them, you towered over everyone, even König seemed small beside you, limbs almost as long as you, fingers tipped with blood that you were still licking off, a long tongue wrapped around your digit to clean yourself from blood, muscle and guts.
You were casually cleaning yourself up like a cat washing, even in the aircraft, you were gorging on the body of a man you picked up, jaw opening to show them the dozen of teeth before you clamped down on the forearm, tearing into the muscle with famished intent. None of them could take their eyes off you, their sweet, smiley medic who sometimes had their moments, devouring a man without batting an eye, obliviously uncaring of their staring. Gaz wasn’t sure if he knew how he felt, a warmth building up in his chest, a heat that seared into the fibres of his beings like an infectious thing. All they did was watch you eat, no one speaking until you finished your meal.
“Mind tell us what happened, Hunter?”
You perked up, blinking at Price owlishly, tongue lolling out to lick up the stray drop of blood that stuck on your skull’s teeth. Your chest rumbled, a soft growl rolling off your body while you tilted your head, you acted so much like a feline, grooming, reacting and moving like a curious cat, dangerous, yet so appealing.
“Wendigo,” you rasped, voice breathy and weak, you spoke in broken English, unable to speak fluently after turning, “Curse, eat human.”
Your little mannerism, the small tilt of your head and your fumbling hands, seemingly embarrassed or ashamed after your show of ruthless hunger and savagery was… eye-opening. Something stewed inside him, your being creating a ripple in his heart, pulling at the hunger in the depth of his gut. He was torn by the fear of having you as the potential enemy and the arousal of seeing you break men in half, painting the ground in crimson and guts, and satiating your hunger - craving - with human and monster flesh.
Gaz was fucked, both in the head and the situation.
Taglist: @craxy-person @crowbird @dead-cipher @iwannabealocalcryptid @iizx7y @mxtokko @yeetusspagheetus @capricorn-anon @perfectus-in-morte @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @tallmanlover @distracteddragoness @vxnilla-hxrddrugs @konigsblog @havoc973 @angelcakes-22 @cassiecasluciluce @ramadiiiisme @ramblingsofachaoticthinker @ki-cant-spel @im-making-an-effort @love-dove-noora @jinxxangel13 @daisychainsinknots @0alk0msan @mul-pi @danielle143 @virginalsacrifice
#x reader#cod mw2#cod mw2 x reader#simon ghost riley#simon ghost riley x reader#ghost mw2#konig mw2#konig x reader#kim horangi hong jin#horangi#horangi x reader#john soap mactavish#soap mw2#soap x reader#price mw2#captain john price#john price x reader#gaz mw2#kyle gaz garrick#gaz x reader#alejandro x reader#alejandro vargas x reader#alejandro vargas#rudy parra#rudolfo parra#rudy x reader#monster 141#monster 141 au
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(Can i just say i love ur work, i too read them like bedtime stories, u perform a great service to humanity my good comrade)
Also, could i request perhaps Reader needing to go undercover for a mission and getting a bit too close for comfort with some baddies and thus making Ghost worry? He’s certainly not jealous by any means tho, of course not! Nope. Not jealous at all. Not even a smidge.
He is tho. He’s jealous. In his own Ghost way.
Thank you for your kind words, nonny and sorry for being so late!
Reader is an undercover tourist in Paris for this one. No warnings, other than a pretty sulky Ghost. More A/N at the end.)
———————————————————————
He hasn’t uttered a word since you returned to your temporary base. No “good job,” no “well done,” no “thank you for risking your life for the team.” Nothing. He didn’t even stick around for the debriefing. Instead, he stashed his gear in his locker and headed straight to the kitchen.
Usually, after a high-stress operation, Ghost would go to the kitchen to make some tea. Yet, the way he went about his business today seemed more like he was about to sharpen his knives than brew himself a ‘cuppa’.
There is a reason he’s upset, though, and you know it. While you are always prepared to risk your life for the team, your latest actions were pretty... out of character, so to speak, and Ghost took notice of that.
You stare at the closed kitchen door, wondering what’s unfolding behind it, how he feels, and whether he can communicate it without lashing out.
“Maybe it’s best to give him some space,” Price advises, narrowing his eyes. “You did a pretty risky thing back there; no reason to push your luck.”
“A whole kitchen’s worth of space, Captain?” you retort. “I’ll evacuate if things take a turn for the worse.”
“Call for backup if you can’t handle it,” he winks at you. “And don’t tell him I did that,” he says, pointing at his closed eye.
You smile at him, and push open the kitchen door. Ghost sits at the table, his back turned towards you, hunched over a cup of tea. He has his balaclava draped over his right thigh and his gloves on the table.
“Your hair is a mess.” You tease.
You reach to fix the stray hairs hanging over his forehead, but he pulls away from your touch. You lower your hand and go for the kettle instead. This will be much more difficult, you think to yourself.
“Coffee?” You offer. Although you know he’d refuse, you feel it’s a good way to break the ice.
Yet he doesn’t reply. Instead, he reclines on his chair and stirs the tea with a metal spoon. With your back turned to him, you pour the preheated water into your cup, add coffee granules, and cool it down with a gentle blow. The clinking of the metal spoon against the ceramic mug continues until it suddenly stops.
“Are you alright, mademoiselle?” He mocks, with a fake—and quite terrible—French accent, mimicking the enemy guard who “rescued” you when you dramatically pretended to twist your ankle in front of him.
A chuckle escapes you, and you turn to face him, leaning against the kitchen counter. He keeps his gaze fixed on his cup.
“I had to buy some time for Soap and Gaz, Lieutenant,” you explain. “They were inside that safehouse, gathering-”
“Intel,” he interjects. “I was there too; no need to rehash it.”
“The guards were dangerously close, sir,” you press on. “There was no time.”
He shakes his head. “No time doesn’t mean dropping to your hands and knees like a coquette, bawling your eyes out, waiting for a French knight in shining armour to come and save you now, does it?” he spats.
You raise an eyebrow. ‘Coquette’? You? He knows damn well the fall was staged, the tears were fabricated, the vulnerability was an act. The fall did hurt; otherwise, it wouldn’t have been believable. But shedding tears over twisting your ankle? No way. You’ve endured bullet wounds in the past, for heaven’s sake, and barely flinched. Ghost knows that. Yet, he looks more…
“Jealous, Lt.?”
“Don’t flatter yourself, sweetheart.” He murmurs, scratching his forehead.
“Say what you want,” You shrug. “But you must admit: it was a pretty convincing fall.”
“Yeah,” he replies. “Nothing says more ‘convincing’ like kissing the cobblestones of Paris.”
“Alright,” you say, leaving your cup on the kitchen counter. You cross your arms in front of your chest and nod upwards. “What would you have done, then?”
“Shoot him,” he responds, his black-painted eyes shifting from the cup to you. “That’s why I was up on the rooftop, remember?”
“What’s the point of going undercover if you’d eliminate the threat like that?” You persist. “And in a public place like that? Come on, Lt.!”
He pushes his cup to the side, places his hands on the kitchen table and stands up.
“Have you ever thought of what would have happened if your cover was blown?” He asks, raising his voice. “How was I supposed to protect you if you were right in front of my bloody target?”
You keep staring at him, his last words replaying in your mind.
How was I supposed to protect you…
You look at your mug on the counter; the steam from the coffee is almost gone. It must have been transferred onto him instead, you think to yourself. Might as well let him blow it off. Let him vent.
“I know how to protect myself, Ghost.”
He sits back on his chair and brings his tea closer, shaking his head.
“You should’ve waited for the signal.” He says. “We’ve got a plan for a reason.”
“I understand, s-”
“Falling in front of the enemy, letting him scoop you up like a fucking princess in agony, removing your shoe, fetching you ice from the coffee shop wasn’t part of the plan.”
A smile threatens to escape your lips, but you suppress it. You turn your back to him and pretend to clean the counter. There’s no reason to anger him more.
“Sir,” you begin. “What is the problem here: me not following orders or letting the guard run to my aid?”
“I don’t care about that French prick touching your ankle.” He murmurs.
Well, seems that ‘French prick’ touching you bothered him as much as you not following the plan. You stop fake-wiping the counter, grab your mug and turn towards him.
“I apologise, sir,” you say. “It won’t happen again. But you could have voiced your concerns in a less... abrasive way.”
“Wasn’t the pavement abrasive enough?” He snaps. “What’s next? Are you going to cry over it?”
You click your tongue and approach the table, extending your hand for a handshake.
“Alright, enough,” you say. “Let’s make a truce and end this right now.”
He remains still, looking at you. He finally reaches for your hand, but instead of shaking it, he twists it so your palm faces down. With a smirk, he stands up, brings it to his mouth, and kisses it.
“Isn’t that how that fucker would have done it?” he asks, still smiling.
You roll your eyes. At least his anger has died down and you’re left with his—typical—snarky self. You pull a chair across from him.
“Mind if I sit?” You ask.
“Normally, I’d tell you to ‘hit the bricks’,” He murmurs, motioning for you to take your place. “But you’ve already done that.”
———————————————————————
A/N: I keep confusing “ankle” with “uncle”. You twist your ankle, not your uncle ffs.
#simon ghost riley x reader#simon ghost riley x f!reader#simon ghost riley x you#simon ghost riley x y/n#simon ghost riley#simon riley x reader#simon riley x f!reader#simon riley x female reader#simon riley x y/n#simon riley x you#simon riley#call of duty#cod mwii#cod ghost#ghost call of duty#ghost cod#cod mw ghost#simon ghost riley fanfiction#simon ghost riley fic
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he washes your hair
Injured in the line of duty, you can't even manage to wash your own hair. Captain John Price decides to help you out.
MDNI/18+
TW: hurt/comfort, injury
https://archiveofourown.org/works/50663425
The medics did the best they could to patch you up, but the damage was extensive. The terrorist’s pipe bomb had exploded against your back, slamming shrapnel into your arms and shoulders, tearing your flesh and breaking your left collarbone. The doctor had tried to put your arm in a sling, but you couldn’t raise either arm above the midpoint. As you dragged your body back to your quarters, you did your best to get undressed, but you were now stuck, sitting on the floor, crying a bit from the pain and frustration of your injuries.
There was no one to help you. You were stuck out here with the task force, but Soap and Ghost were still deep in enemy territory on recon. Gaz had gone with Laswell to find the weapons shipment that she’d promised you, and the only one left in the makeshift house-turned-base was Captain Price.
You told yourself you’d do the same thing for him if the tables were turned, but it didn’t lessen the shame at all. You called his cell,
“Cap?”
“Sparrow? What’s wrong?”
You never called him like this. Not at this hour. But, knowing you were injured, he picked right up. His voice was full of concern. You could picture his blue eyes shining with his worry.
“Nothing…” you paused, “Well, I…”
“Gonna die of old age before you tell me, soldier.”
You smiled, biting the bullet,
“Cap, I need your help. I’m stuck in here. Can’t move my arms.”
“On my way,” he hung up.
You waited, listening for his heavy footsteps. Eventually, you heard him in the hall. He knocked on your door.
“Come in,” you said, turning your eyes to the floor, unable to meet his gaze, full of shame.
You were sitting there, in nothing but the shirt stuck around your arm and a pair of panties. You’d been successful with the rest of your outfit, proud of yourself for using a coat hanger to take off your bra from the back clip, but now you were trapped, unable to move even a little without being in excruciating pain.
“Poor little bird. Broke your wing, hm?” Price smiled down at you, his tone so different than his usual sarcasm.
“I must look pretty pitiful for you to be so sweet about it,” you rolled your eyes, “Go on, have a laugh. I’m a muppet who trapped herself in her own shirt.”
He didn’t say anything. Price walked over to you carefully, bending down so he could reach you, his hulking body darkening your vision, casting his huge shadow over you, almost protectively. He snaked his hand under the collar of your shirt and guided it up and over your head, careful not to disturb your bandages.
Shirtless, now, and in just your underwear, you moved to cover your breasts, wincing as you made the attempt, your shoulder angry at the bent angle.
“It’s alright, birdie. Let’s get you up,” he set your arm back into its neutral position and guided you to your feet.
“I’m so sorry you had to come,” you whispered, shameful to the point of pain.
Price guided you to the bathroom, his strength making you feel weightless. You were dizzy from it. His warm body felt like a salve on your wounds.
He didn’t ask for permission when he stripped off your panties, kneeling to pull them off of your legs, letting you step gingerly out of them, one by one. You steadied yourself on his huge shoulders, the agony too high for you to complain any longer. Your breath caught in your chest when a sharp spike of hot pain shot through your chest.
“Ah! Christ,” you gritted your teeth.
Blue eyes looked up at you from below, looking like a man in prayer, looking up for his gods, for a sign.
“Alright, Spar? Here, sit. Sit down,” he guided you to the side of the shower-tub combo, placing you between the open plexiglass doors.
“Captain, I…” you tried to make your excuses again.
“Shh,” he wiped some of your dried blood off of your cheek, and furrowed his brow at you, “No more of that. That’s an order, Corporal.”
“Yes, sir,” you grimaced, trying to turn on the water.
“Stop, birdie. Let me help you.”
You were too tired to fight him. He turned on the water for you, and he started to remove your bandages. Your wounds needed to be cleaned and the bandages replaced. You weren’t sure how the medics expected you to do that by yourself. You thought the captain might be willing to stay, so you tried to be good, tried not to be a burden to him.
“You know,” he commented as he waited for the water to warm up, reaching for clean towels, “Laswell called. She said you saved those two girls, the ones in the upstairs room.”
There had been a mess of civilians on this last mission, and you had blocked the bomb with your body, trying to shield them from the blast.
“They made it through?” You wanted to be sure.
He nodded, smiling,
“Sure did, little bird. You did good. Made us proud,” then, he corrected himself, staring at you with fiery intent, “Me. Made me proud.”
You smiled back,
“Thanks, Captain.”
“C’mon, let’s get you clean,” he took off his shirt and you gaped in awe.
His body was huge in the small bathroom, enormous shoulders bulging off of his heavy frame, and his core was thick but the top of his abs were sticking out, suggesting a well-fed but strong man. He was covered in dense hair, laying straight and flat against his skin, unshaven and untrimmed. No one to trim it for, you supposed.
“What are you doing?” You asked, shocked by his undressing.
Price unbuckled his belt, the metal clinking as it dangled, and started to take off his pants, using his toes to pry off his boots from the heel,
“Can’t wash yourself, and I can’t reach you from out here. Gonna jump in and help you,” he paused, looking at you carefully, “That alright, birdie?”
Your nickname was your favorite thing you’d ever gotten from him. When he used it, in his thick accent, it made your heart race.
You nodded, resigning yourself to be as professional as you could, averting your eyes.
He chuckled, rich and deep,
“Might as well have a butcher’s now, love. Gonna be up close and personal.”
You looked at him then, accepting his challenge. But, as your eyes raked over his nude form, you saw his skin flush pink, a little more self-conscious than he let on.
“I know, I know. Old dog like me, I’m nothing to look at. I promise, I’ll just wash you and get back out. Sorry about all the…” he made a general motion toward his cock, which was hanging heavy and half-hard at the sight of you, “Can’t help that you’re a pretty bird.”
“John, you’re plenty to look at,” you grinned, blushing right along with him.
For once in his life, John Price didn’t have a snappy response. He just checked the water again and helped you stand up, guiding you into the shower and repositioning the head so that it wouldn’t hit you directly.
You let yourself soak under the stream, eyes closed, hearing him shut the door behind himself. You felt him steady you with a hand on your hip as he used a gentle washcloth to clean blood off of your skin, careful not to touch your wounds.
“Turn ‘round, love,” his voice was so low, you almost couldn’t hear him.
You turned toward him, watching him stand before you, breathing heavier, trying his best not to stare at your chest. It was easy at first. As he cleaned your face, his touch soft and platonic, he stole a few glances down. But, as he began to take care of your collarbone and chest, he lost his nerve a bit. At one point, he stopped mid-swipe, trying to clean blood from you and then watching as a long, thin rivulet ran directly over your nipple.
You smiled, and he saw you, chuckling again.
“Got me. Sorry.”
“It’s okay, Captain. Just a natural response.”
He pulled back his lips from his teeth and ran a wet hand down his face, looking exasperated,
“Do you want…I mean, do you mind if I…” he let out a labored sigh, shaking his head.
“You can, John. I…” you waited until he could look you in the face again, “I want you to touch me, if you want to.”
“Bloody hell,” he muttered, not really to you, “Look, I don’t want you to feel - ”
You leaned forward, a bit unsteady, and kissed the skin on his sternum, feeling the hairs on your lips, his wet skin sticking to you as you pulled away.
“Little bird,” he was warning you. You could hear it in his tone.
“Kiss me, John. Please?”
“I can’t. I can’t because I won’t stop. I don’t have an abundance of self-control. Not after a mission. Can’t be trusted.”
“I trust you,” you looked up at him, praying back to him, hoping he wanted you like you had wanted him over these last six months.
Price leaned down, holding you steady, and kissed you very chastely. You kissed him back, not chastely at all. He moaned, pulling away,
“Don’t, Spar. I can’t…You’re injured.”
“Yeah, injured. Not dead.”
He smirked, unable to keep the grin off his face. His cock was as hard as a stone, and it was long enough to rub against your belly as you stood together in the small space.
“Let me wash your hair. I’ll think about it, birdie…you little minx,” his last comment was said under his breath, full of hungry desperation.
He turned you around again, and he reached for the shampoo, pouring out a quarter-sized amount into his calloused palm. Rubbing it together in his hands, he ran it through your scalp, massaging it until it foamed, making sure to take care of the ends. Then, he held you while you stood under the spray, letting the warm water soak your tresses, running the suds down the drain.
As he prepared to wash your body, Price took a deep breath. He stayed away from your wounds, but as he started to wash your trunk, he hesitated to soap your breasts.
“John, it’s okay.”
He smiled at you,
“Just enjoying you, little bird. Might not get another chance.”
“I’ll make sure you get plenty of chances.”
He was on you then, gently caressing your breasts and nipples with the soap, rubbing his body on yours, washing himself as he cleaned you. He ran his hands over your ass cheeks, down your legs, making sure to take care of your whole body as if it was his.
“Alright, all done,” he sighed, “Let’s get those dressings replaced, and I’ll take you to bed.”
You raised your eyebrows suggestively. He exhaled, smiling down at you in disbelief, his voice deep and ragged,
“Fuckin’ hell, birdie. Keep teasin’ me and I bloody will take you to bed.”
You smiled, laughing with him, enjoying his warmth as you leaned your body against his, letting the soft spray from the shower protect you both, cocooned together, safe and sound.
#captain john price#john price#john price x you#john price x reader#captain price#captain price x reader#captain price x you#cod mwii#cod mw2#cod#cod fanfic#cod fic#call of duty fanfic
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𝘁𝗿𝗶𝗰𝗸𝘀 𝗼𝗳 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘁𝗿𝗮𝗱𝗲 | dark-ish!joel miller x reader
𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆 | when you don't have enough rations to get your fix, you have to find something else to trade
𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁 | a bit under 5k
𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 | dubious consent SMUT (18+ only; unprotected sex, oral m receiving, creampie, sex as currency), orgasm control, slapping, choking, spanking, very dirty talk including degradation (slut, whore, etc.), possessiveness, discussions/threats of anal but no actual anal, just a touch of daddy kink and sir kink, implied age gap but not specified, joel is a lil mean but in a sexy way, reader is a pill user/addict
You chewed your nails nervously as you watched him walk up to your usual spot; you tried to act casual, but the more of this stuff you got, the more you needed it— and the more you needed, the harder it was to act casual when you knew it was coming.
“You got the stuff?” you asked quickly, giving your anxiousness away.
“Yeah,” he mumbled, “you got the rations?”
You didn’t respond, even with a nod, you just pulled the stack of papers out of your pocket and handed them over. Your foot tapped on the ground— a little tacky, mud’s still drying from the storm two days ago— as he flipped through them.
It’s hard to say what you expected. Like he’d forget how to count or something? “This isn’t enough,” he informed you flatly, looking up from the stack to shoot you a glare.
“C’mon, Joel, be cool,” you whimpered, “so I’m a little short—”
“A little short?” he repeated. “This is less than half what you owe me.”
“Less than half? That’s fourteen— your prices went up?” you wondered.
“No,” he shook his head, seeming frustrated, “what you owe for today plus what you owe from when I spotted you for last week’s fix—”
“Fuck,” you groaned, “I forgot, I’m sorry— but you know I’m good for it.”
He tried to hand the ration cards back to you, and you bit your lip to stop it from shaking.
“I need this, Joel— you know I need this,” you began to ramble, but he stopped you with a tight grip on your shoulder. Looking him in the eyes, you cowered a bit just from how intense his stare was.
“You need to get it together, kid,” he warned you, but you were only halfway paying attention.
“M’not a kid,” you defended yourself quietly, though your mind was already somewhere else as your eyes on the hand holding your shoulder. "I'm low on rations," you admitted, "but I can get you something else."
He gave you a confused look, until you reached forward and rested a hand gently on his chest, through the heavy dark green jacket he wore. Then he understood, and gave you a disappointed look. "I don't do that."
"Do what, relax? Take some time for yourself?" you pressed, letting your teeth catch your bottom lip slightly. His eyes did linger on your mouth for a moment, and you hoped this was working. "How long's it been since you got some?"
"Not that long," he said defensively, letting go of your shoulder, but you stepped closer to him and kept sizing him up.
"How long's it been since you got whatever you wanted?"
That seemed to get his attention a bit better. "You can't just say that— you can't just offer that," he corrected firmly. "You say that to the wrong creep trying to get extra cigarettes or something and you end up—"
"M'not saying it to anybody else, Joel," you promised, "this is just for you— I never traded something like this before, but, you know… we go back, and I trust you."
He raised an eyebrow at you. "Can I trust you?"
Smiling, you pressed your body up against his; he stiffened up— not in the way you were hoping, either— but didn't stop you. "Trust me how? What would I do?"
"I dunno," he muttered.
"I think the better question is, Joel," you lowered your voice as you looked at him through your lashes, "do you think I'm pretty?"
He scoffed, but you saw right through it. He was trying to tell himself he was better than this, that he needed the rations more, that you weren't worth the trouble. But his neck flexed and you knew you were in.
"Honestly, you'd be doing me a favor," you shrugged, standing up on your tiptoes so you could whisper in his ear: "I always wanted to suck your cock."
"Goddamnit," he hissed, and you thought he was about to throw you off when he grabbed your arm. Instead, he started to walk and guide you with him. "Not here."
He took you, eventually, to his room— it was much more spacious than most, especially yours, and you wondered what you'd have to do to get to spend a night here.
A second later, he pulled you into him; his hands ran up your back, and you smiled as he pressed against you. "Lemme see you first, baby, lemme see you," he whispered, helping you out of your shirt and sighing as he grabbed handfuls of your tits.
Your hands, meanwhile, rubbed the front of his jeans— but he wasn't hard yet, at least not much. Not until he unbuckled your pants and pushed them down along with your underwear, immediately groping your bare ass with a sigh.
"Got a nice ass," he decided, jiggling it briefly with his hand— and before you could react to that, he slipped that hand around and cupped your pussy with it, sliding one finger between the seam of your lips.
"Fuck, Joel," you whispered, reeling a bit from how sudden it all was.
But then it stopped— just as instantly as it had started— and he sat down on the couch. "Well?" he prompted after you just stood there dumbfounded for a moment.
He kept his legs spread wide, and put his hands up behind his head as he leaned back. Why was that so hot?
Swallowing, you got down on your knees between his, running your hands up his denim-covered legs for just a moment before finding his belt.
He let you do the work, opening the buckle and sliding the leather out, reaching into the fly and pulling out—
Fuck, he was big. Thick as hell, a fat head with a vein running up the side… you let your mouth water, knowing it would make this easier, and held his shaft tight as you began to lean forward.
"Hey," he said suddenly, making you stop for a second. "You better make it good for me, or no pills."
Looking up at him and hoping your eyes didn't give your nervousness away, you nodded. He smiled, and leaned back to really sink into the couch.
You started with just a few gentle, teasing licks to the tip, one right over his slit, and his only reaction was adjusting his leg a bit. Taking the head in your mouth, you suckled carefully, letting excess spit run down until it collided with your hand at his base.
It wasn't until he started to get harder in your mouth that you realized he wasn't fully hard before. You knew he was hard enough and thought maybe that was where it capped out for a man his age— no, clearly not, and you felt your hand struggle to wrap fully around his girth as he grew even more.
Trying to sink your lips down further, you had to open up your jaw like you never had before; it wasn't painful per se, but it was an odd feeling, and your lips were a little dry to be stretched this far…
You took him deeper until the tip kissed your throat, and you started to really get into the rhythm of it as your hand stroked what was left in time with the bobbing of your head.
Just when you thought you'd found the pattern and pace that would take you to the end of this, you were interrupted. He smiled a little, and a hand grabbed your shoulder suddenly and tightly; you froze. "Slow, baby, slow," he reminded you. "There's no rush, okay?"
You nodded a bit, still holding him in your mouth, and resumed— much more careful with your speed this time.
"Better," he praised, letting go of your shoulder and getting comfortable on the sofa again.
You kept the same motions, but tried not to get too lost in it— letting your tongue lick and taste, trying to really treat him so you wouldn't get corrected again.
It was a struggle to get much deeper, not just for your throat but for your lips and jaw forced wide open. Still, you worked to warm yourself up, taking your time as he'd encouraged you to.
For a while, he didn't react much, though he did watch you very closely. The first thing he did to show he was really here was brush some hair away from your face, tilting your face back slightly in the process.
"Look up at me," he whispered, "there you go… pretty eyes…"
It made your chest warm and your pussy tingle for just a second; his stare was intense, you struggled to keep eye contact with him looking at you like that.
He held your head and started to move his hips a bit, gently sliding his cock in and out of your mouth— just an inch at first, and he held you still while he did what he wanted with you. "Pretty lips," he continued, running his thumb over them, tracing the shape your mouth was forced into by his cock. "Use that tongue, baby, I told you to make it good for me."
Humming in agreement-meets-apology, you ran your tongue firmly along the underside of his cock as he moved in your mouth.
That went on for a while until your jaw was fucking killing you and you had to take a break; even with his hands on your hair he let you pull yourself off, though the look on his face did show some confusion and disappointment.
That all changed when he realized what you were doing. He smiled at you— a dark, yet amused, grin— as you sunk deeper between his legs to lick his balls. They were heavy in your mouth, and a little salty with his sweat; the mix of dark and grey hairs rubbed roughly on your tongue. "That's cute," he informed you, running his fingers over your cheek for a moment. You weren't sure if that was the word you would use for this, but you didn't disagree because your mouth was full.
You switched to the other one, closing your eyes while you really savored it, tracing the shape of them with the tip of your tongue before sucking them carefully into your mouth.
He moaned when you did that, and you opened your eyes. He looked so fucking good like this, eyes shut and head fallen back and his hands tightening into fists at his side. "That's nice, keep going," he encouraged, suddenly grabbing your hair when you sucked even harder on the bulb in your mouth. But he didn't try to stop you, or guide you, he just kept it there and hissed in a breath through his teeth as you continued.
When your jaw had had enough of a break you tried to get right back to it, but he shoved your face back between his legs and groaned.
"Not yet," he snapped, "keep licking my balls— fuck, like that… so dirty, baby…"
When it was time for you to stop that and get back to the main event, he made it pretty clear; he pushed your head back and shoved his cock into your mouth, groaning lowly as he let go and let you get back to it. He seemed to like how eager you were now, not stopping you to slow you down like before.
You twisted your hand around him, because everything was plenty slippery enough to do that, as you bobbed your head; obscene slurping noises filled the room and you felt like a proper whore now, spoiling him with the absolute best head you had to offer, using your mouth to pleasure him until you couldn't remember any other purpose for it.
After a few minutes of that, he yanked you off of his cock by your hair, making you gasp and blink up at him. "Is it good, daddy?" you asked with a smile.
He slapped you quickly on the cheek, and you yelped a bit as your face spun to the side. But you moaned, too. "You like that?" he realized.
"Yeah," you sighed, "unless you don't want me to."
He laughed breathlessly. "No, it's hot— you're such a whore, baby, keep sucking…"
He guided you back, pushing his cock onto your tongue with just his thumb until you could wrap your lips around him again and continue your work.
"Fuck yeah," he sighed, head falling back again.
With each bob of your head, you took him a little deeper— deeper, deeper, until the tip breached your throat and he moaned loudly as you gagged.
"Yeah, choke on it," he encouraged, "show me what you can do— fuck, baby…"
Deeper, deeper, until his whole head was past the back of your throat and you fought the urge to swallow, knowing you'd have to start all over.
"Shit, that's good," he mumbled. "Really fucking good…"
You took him deeper still, until all of a sudden your lips were at his base and his dick was further than you ever thought possible.
"Oh fuck," he moaned, stroking your hair, "you— fuck, baby, that throat… you've got a fucking talent, kid."
You did not expect to get wet from him calling you that… maybe it's just because you never thought he'd say it in a time like this. But it made your thighs clench together and your hips shift.
"No wonder this is what you wanted to do, huh? Wanted to show me your little party trick, take my cock down your fuckin' throat?" he snarled. "Bet you do this all the fucking time, a blowjob for a fix or more rations or something else you want…"
You shook your head, and he laughed a bit.
"No? You're a good girl?"
You nodded, moaning around him.
"Then what are you doing blowing me for pills, huh? Is that what good girls do?"
You shook your head, but he pulled you off by your hair again.
"Say it," he ordered. "Is that what good girls do, suck cock for drugs?"
"No," you answered.
"No sir," he corrected.
"No, sir," you repeated, heat pooling between your legs until you worried you'd drip on his floor.
"Keep sucking, slut," he ordered, putting you back in your place literally and figuratively. "Show me what a bad girl you are— yeah, fuck, show me how you use that whore mouth, fuck—"
You struggled to get back into your pace when he was holding your head, moving you the way he wanted. Unlike before, he was speeding you up, faster and faster until he was basically just fucking your mouth. You did your best to use your hand, but eventually just gave up and kept your throat open, letting him use you however he liked.
"Gonna come in that pretty mouth," he promised, biting his lip for a moment. "Fuck, gonna fill that little mouth— don't swallow it 'til I say so."
You tried to nod, but your movements were controlled by him now; you felt his cock flex and pulse, and you shut your eyes in anticipation of it.
"No, fuck, keep them open," he pleaded, "look up at me while I come— yes, fuck, fuck!"
As he came, you sighed through your nose with relief. You were already thinking about getting that baggy of pills, about how deliciously high you were gonna be tonight, all because you did this. It took longer than you expected, but it was relatively painless— except for your jaw, and your throat, and your cheek, and your knees…
"Show me," he ordered, and you opened your mouth to carefully pool his spend on your tongue. "Mm," he hummed proudly when you displayed it all for him, holding your chin so he could turn your face either way and get a good look at what he'd done to you.
It was humiliating, sort of, and yet you felt proud of yourself when he looked at you like that.
"Good, baby, you can swallow now," he offered, and you did so quickly— but it didn't quite get the taste off your tongue.
Wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, you were about to try to stand up, maybe thank him for letting you do this instead of paying for the pills, but you realized this wasn't over yet just by the way he was looking at you.
"Come up here," he encouraged, patting his thigh and smiling down at you. "Let's see what else you can do."
With shaky knees, you stood up and took your pants off from around your ankles, climbing up to straddle his lap. "Are we really gonna—?"
He interrupted you by grabbing your hips and already starting to give commands. "Over here, baby, like this— there you go…"
He had you right where he needed you in order to guide his cock up to your hole and slide you down onto him. From the second his tip breached your opening, you gasped.
"Tight fuckin' pussy," he grunted, his top lip curling in a snarl for just a second.
He kept pushing you down until your inner thighs were pressed to his jeans, and he watched you shiver as his cock stirred places deep inside you— too deep, you'd thought before, for a cock to reach.
"Go ahead," he instructed, "ride."
You lifted yourself up and down, whimpering as his thick cock stretched you; it was taking you longer than you expected to adjust to it, but you almost didn't want to…
"Too big?" he wondered with a smug smirk.
"I-I can take it," you said, not sounding especially confident.
"You do this a lot?" he interrogated. "Ride big cocks?"
"No," you promised, "I don't— fuck…"
He laughed a little, and moved you so you had to pick up your pace a bit. You had to hold onto the couch to keep your balance as a wavering moan jumped from your lips. "Feels good, baby? Feels nice and thick, givin' that pussy a stretch?" he taunted.
"Yeah," you panted, "feels good."
"Who feels good?"
"You— Joel, it's you, you feel so good, you feel so fucking good," you babbled pathetically, moving faster again. He moved your hands from the back of the couch to his shoulders, before putting his grip back on your hips.
"Keep riding, baby," he instructed, "keep riding my cock, yeah, like that…"
Your head fell back and a low groan slid from your throat. "Joel," you moaned, "fuck, so deep…"
"You know I had to use this whole pussy, baby, every inch," he grinned. "Of course I'm deep— it's all mine, isn't it? I can go as deep as I want."
"Yeah," you breathed, nodding.
"I can go as hard as I want," he continued.
"Yes!"
"I can go as slow as I want," he added, laughing when you whined at the way he forced your pace to slow down again. "What's the rush, baby? Why are you always trying to get it over with? I know you fucking like it."
He held your face for just a second before he slapped it— then he did it again, again… just when you thought he'd never stop slapping you, he did, only to move his hand down to wrap around your neck. The way you gasped in anticipation, your walls restricting around him excitedly, gave you away completely.
"Shit, you like that too?" he grinned, massaging your neck so hard that it already made your head spin. You nodded.
He tightened his grip until your gasp was cut short and you were totally at his mercy, static filling your brain.
"That's it— fuck, you get really tight when I choke you," he noticed when he let go, and you coughed a little but moaned impatiently. "You want more? Shit… fucking slut."
He choked you again, your hips struggling to keep up the pace when all the air was gone; but that didn't seem to bother him much, if anything he liked seeing you struggle.
Still, he kept one hand on your hips to guide you, occasionally exploring with it so he could rub your thigh or play with your tits. It made you more aware that he'd never even taken his boots off while you were fully nude, grinding in his lap while he just sat back and watched you. You felt so inferior; why did it feel so good?
"Joel," you gasped when his roaming hand rubbed over your clit briefly. He smirked.
"Here, baby?" he teased, drawing the gentlest circles on your bud. "Want me to play with your little pussy, that's what you need?"
"Yes, fuck, please," you begged, but your words were cut short when the hand on your neck tightened again. He rubbed your clit hard, but you couldn't scream while he choked you, and your whole body felt like it was filled with pressure as he fucked up into you off the couch.
"Fuck, you soak me every damn time I choke you," he noticed; his voice was the only one in the room now with your moans silenced, and yet he sounded so far away past the ringing in your ears.
When he let go, you breathed in a deep gasp and moaned much louder than you meant to.
"Bounce on it, come on," he encouraged roughly, smacking your ass to kick you back into gear; you held on tight to his shoulders and swirled your hips, moaning shamelessly now at the feeling of his cock filling your sensitive pussy.
"Joel," you sobbed, "fuck, I— so good, I wanna— oh god—"
He slapped you one more time to get you back to your senses. "What's that, baby?" he pressed.
"I— I— fuck," you stammered, unable to get any other words out. I'm gonna come if you don't stop. But he didn't need to hear you say it, he already knew.
"You want more?" he grunted, watching your face closely. "You want more, baby? Say it."
Another hard slap to the face seemed to fix the part of your brain that makes words, and you spoke more coherently. "I want more," you whined, "fuck me harder, Joel, I want it!"
He grabbed you by your fucking neck and threw you off of him, onto the couch, with a sneer. As he shoved your head down and yanked your hips up, you arched your back to get yourself in position for him; but instead he smacked your ass hard and your back jolted up the other way.
"Slut," he scolded roughly, giving the other cheek a spank next.
You nodded against the couch. "I am, I am," you admitted with a sigh.
"Fucking dirty slut," he repeated, getting up on his knees to clumsily guide his cock to your hole; and you both groaned when he slipped in. "God," he choked, fucking you fast and deep right away, "so fuckin' tight— no baby, no no—"
He shoved your lower back down again when it tried to arch up, a natural response to his cock hitting the deepest parts of you. You yelped each time, a sharp pang in your gut with every thrust, but he fucked you as hard and deep as he wanted regardless.
"S'better— keep it like this, show me that ass," he ordered roughly as his gaze went back and forth from your twisted face of pain to his cock slamming into your cunt. "Good girl."
Even when it was getting battered to all fuck, your pussy managed to give him a nice squeeze when he said that.
"Real cute ass, too," he added, and you jumped a bit when his thumb brushed over your other hole. "Should I fuck it?"
"Joel," you gasped, not answering his question.
"Do you want me to?"
After hesitating, you shook your head.
"No?" he pressed.
"No," you admitted in a pout.
"Ask me not to," he ordered.
"Don't… don't fuck my ass, Joel, please…" you obliged, not sure if he was taunting you before he did it anyways or what. You both knew that you were in no position to stop him.
"What's that? You don't want it?"
"No, Joel, please! Not there!" you pleaded again, a little more emphatically.
"So I can't?"
You hesitated again. "You can… I just don't want you to," you relented, and he laughed.
"Don't worry, baby, I'm not gonna," he promised. "Pussy's too good. You're just cute when you're scared."
You couldn't say if that was true, but one thing you did discover was that you came faster when you were scared; it was already reaching the point of no return, that feeling deep inside. It was building faster than you could handle it, like he was forcing the pleasure to overtake your body— like your body obeyed him before you now. "God, fuck, fuck—" you choked out weakly, starting to shake all over.
"Close?" he noticed, and you nodded. "Not 'til I say so."
"Fuck, Joel, c'mon," you whined, getting another spank for your insolence.
"Not 'til I fuckin' say so," he insisted, speaking through his teeth as he kept a bruising grip on your hips. "Better not fuckin' come until I say, got it? Or you're not getting your pills."
"Okay, okay," you panted, "not gonna come unless you let me… I'll come when you say, just please…"
He chuckled a little, making you whimper in the back of your throat when he angled his hips to push his cock as absolutely deep as you could go; you'd never gotten a stomach ache from sex before, but he was churning everything inside you and making your whole body his plaything. Was that why he was going to make you wait to come? To make sure you knew how easily he owned you?
'Cause then it wasn't really necessary; you already knew, it was obvious.
"Good girl," he praised again, and you shivered all over; he fucked you harder, keeping up a ruthless pace, and you knew he was close.
At least, you hoped he was close, 'cause you weren't sure how much more of this you could take.
"Whose is this, baby?" he asked in a rough voice.
"Yours, yours," you promised with a whimper, "s'all yours, daddy, everything— s'all for you."
"Damn right," he grunted in agreement. "You're mine, baby— my whore, yeah?"
"Yeah, yeah," you agreed fervently, "fuck I'm gonna come, Joel, please… please let me—"
"Come, whore."
He groaned as it hit you— he must have felt it— and you made a sound you were pretty sure you'd never made before as your fingers clung tightly to the cushion under you.
His pace faltered and you were so lost in your ecstasy that you didn't even question it… until he slowed down to a near stop, grunting weakly with every stuttered thrust into you.
"Oh god," he moaned, "that was good."
When you realized, it was far too late. "Shit, fuck!" you spat. "You came inside?!"
"You said 'whatever I wanted'," he recalled, not seeming to feel very guilty for what he'd done.
"I said I wanted to blow you," you remembered, starting to sober up very quickly, "and you fucked me— and you fucking came inside, asshole, what the fuck am I gonna do if—"
His grip tightened on your neck again, and you stopped. "Quit fucking whining or I'll give you another load," he warned, letting go of your neck a second later and finally pulling out.
You swallowed, awkwardly laying your sore hips down on the couch. "You could… really do that? You already came twice."
"I lied— it has been that long," he admitted. "And with a tight pussy like this to fuck?"
He looked over at you, grabbing your thigh and lifting it so he could see his come leaking from your abused hole.
"Yeah, I could go again," he assured you, patting your ass gently after he let it drop back down. "You'd have to suck me for a while though, get me hard again…"
You sat up, slowly, and found more soreness in your muscles than you expected. "How many pills would I get? If I did that?"
He looked at you and smirked. "Whatever you want, baby," he promised, and you absent-mindedly licked your lips. He laughed as you leaned forward, getting on your knees beside him so you could put your head down in his lap. "Really? You were just bitching at me, figured you'd wanna leave and go shower so you could wash all that come out, try not to get knocked up."
You lifted his softening cock up to your lips, suckling at the tip and humming at the taste of yourself on his skin.
"But you wanna blow me again, huh?" he continued, voice raspier as he pet the back of your head. "Wanna get me hard so I can fuck that come back into you?"
You didn't respond to his question, just started to find your rhythm again until you heard him moan lowly as you sucked.
"Damn, baby… gonna get all the pills you want…" he mumbled his promises. "Gonna be my little whore, right? Gonna take care of daddy?"
Shutting your eyes tight, you hummed around him; this was far from over— this was never gonna be over. This was the new normal. At least you could keep your rations… hopefully.
"Yeah, that's what I thought…"
#joel miller x reader#joel miller smut#dark!joel miller smut#joel miller hbo x reader#pedro pascal fic#pedro pascal smut#tlou hbo fic
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I love poly 141 x (fem/afab)reader way too much, so what if reader finds out that she’s pregnant? Like me personally I love it when I’m reading a silly lil fic and the fmc hides her pregnancy until it’s a bit noticeable but like obvi they’d have really good trust in each other, reader would tell them after she misses her period and she’s taken a test etc etc :D
Too many thoughts on this so sorry if it doesn’t make sense LOL
-R
YES YES YES YES
I especially love when her partner sort of notices something is up, but doesn't push until she's ready to tell, even though he probably found the test in the bin or something🤭🤚
The main problem with keeping secrets in your relationship?
John.
Captain John Price.
He's always been hyper vigilant towards your needs - towards every minute aspect of your life. He knows how stressful it can be to not only share your home with four people, but four stressed, grumpy, massive military men with a penchant for eating you out of house and home? In his eyes you're a saint for putting up with all of them.
Because of this, he tries to streamline your day to day life as much as possible. The fridge stays stocked, as does the bathroom cabinet, always supplied with nice shampoos and conditioners, your favourite body lotion, and practically the entire sanitary product aisle of your local store.
The first red flag is the fact that the window during which you usually have your period has been and gone, and none of the new boxes of tampons he restocked have been opened.
He doesn't think much of it though, rationalising that maybe it's just late, or that you'd had some leftover from last month that you'd used up.
Later on though, when Kyle comes home to you bent double over the kitchen sink, hurling up your guts, concerns raise substantially.
He'd only been coming in to grab the charger for his laptop when he'd heard the ruckus, and promptly called for a day off to look after you.
You soon realise what's up, and promptly shit yourself when you realise that you're carrying a baby with four potential dads.
Like Mamma Mia but so much worse - and with far less wonderful Greek architecture and bright sunshine.
The boys all manage to work it out before you do, especially when you cry until Simon takes you to your local drive-thru for burger pickles and a milkshake. Just burger pickles and a milkshake.
They're all surprisingly calm about the fact that you're pregnant, albeit slightly concerned that they should maybe nudge you in the right direction, seeing as you try to go about day-to-day life when you can't even smell cheese without barfing.
When you do eventually stalk into the living room with a pregnancy test in hand, and a sheepish look on your face, they try their hardest not to act surprised, even though they've already been going through paint samples for the nursery, wondering which one you'll like best - and they hope, for your sake, that it's a girl.
God forbid there's any more testosterone in your house.
#Angies asks!#cod mw2#call of duty#modern warfare#cod modern warfare#cod#cod x reader#captain John price#John price#price#captain price#simon ghost riley#simon Riley#ghost Riley#ghost#Johnny soap mactavish#John soap mactavish#soap mactavish#soap#Kyle gaz garrick#gaz#Kyle garrick#gaz garrick#tf 141 x reader#simon riley x reader#John price x reader#gaz x reader#gaz Garrick x reader#soap mactavish x reader#poly 141
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Layover in Glasgow
Summary: You're living your dream working as a flight attendant after a very bad breakup. On your layovers, you meet all sorts of men from a special Taskforce, each trying to charm their way into your heart. Who will succeed in finding his way into your heart?
Rating: E
Pairing: Soap x plus size readers
MDNI MDNI MDNI MDNI
TW: Oral sex, p in v sex dirty talk , a tiny bit stalking
Next part: Layover in Liverpool
why does he remind me of Johnny
Layover in Glasgow
Being a flight attendant has always been your dream. You have already seen many places; unfortunately, not anything outside of Europe since Ryanair couldn't give you the luxury of layovers in LA, Shanghai, or Bali. It was still more than enough. This time, you could scratch Scotland off your bucket list.
And it was just like you imagined: cold, rainy, and beautiful. Instead of admiring nature, you found yourself in one of Glasgow's most famous pubs with your crew, drinking pints.
After a while, your best friend left, sneaking off with the captain to the bathroom—typical.
You wanted to pay your tab before a pretty handsome guy walked towards you and said, "Let me invite you to a drink before ya leave, bonnie."
God, he was the most handsome man you’d seen in a while. He was a bit short for your liking, but his ripped muscles and icy blue eyes definitely made up for it. "Sorry, I need to go; start early tomorrow,“ you sighed, not being able to flirt a bit more with this man.
"Where urr ye aff tae this late, anyway?“ He asked curiously; he was already ready to offer you a ride, but you looked like one of those girls who would call the police if he asked.
"Hotel,“ you replied shortly. If you were a bit less drunk, you’d probably tell him a lie, like to your boyfriend, so he would toss off, but he was cute, and your best friend left you for the captain anyway.
"Yer not from here, then, are you? You got a bit of the tourist in ya," he muttered.
"I'm not a tourist,“ you replied, bratty. Well, kinda you were, but kinda not, though.
"What brings you here, then?" Soap asked curiously as he shifted his weight on his legs, glancing down at the bar. He already liked you, beautiful and snarky. God, he was down for you. "Business? Family? A lover?" He asked, his voice teasing a bit as he looked back at you. He really hoped and begged God that you hadn’t a lover over here.
"I'm a flight attendant.“
"A flight attendant..." Soap repeated slowly at first, taking a second to process that before a grin split across his face, imagining you in your uniform and how he would rip it apart. "Oh, so you're one of those ones who get to travel the world. Yer a lucky lass.“
„Mhm very lucky, my first layover in Glasgow“
Soap grinned at this, his blue eyes brightening with amusement as his gaze wandered back to you. "Yer first time in Scotland, eh? You have no clue how lucky you are.“ He leaned forward, almost into your personal bubble. "The accent, the history, the food—the women are a bit crazy, though," he admitted with a sheepish chuckle. Oh, how he could brag around having a girl like you by his squad; you had the exact body type Price would kill for, the exact attitude Kyle loved from a lass, and the height and confidence the Lt preferred.
„And the men aren’t crazy here?“ You raised a brow; he seemed seemingly crazy with his mohawk and the way he was able to walk into your personal space. Thoughts about how you could pull on his hair while riding him lived rent-free in your head.
Soap burst out in a deep, rumbling laugh as you asked. "Oh, they're even crazier," he grinned, a cheeky glint in his icy blue eyes. "I don't reckon you'd like 'em all that much, to be honest. Most of 'em are either drunk, dumb, mean, or a combination of all three," Soap chuckled, his head tipping to the side.
"And you are drunk, dumb, or mean?“ Fuck, his eyes already got you memoized. Would it be really wrong to take him to the hotel just for a little fun? Maybe you could ride that beautiful face.
"Well I cannae say ah'ament a' o' th' 'boon at time, but, ah reckon a'm' the most braw." Soap asserted, a self-satisfied smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.
„You think of yourself as the most handsome?“
Soap smirked. "That's fur a'm." He maintained absolute confidence. "I could be the most arrogant person alive, and it'd still be true," he laughed. "I bet I'm the most handsome bloke you've ever seen.“
„So what's your name, arrogant handsome guy?“
"The handsome, arrogant guy in question would happen to be John 'Soap' MacTavish," he answered with a grin. You didn't even question that his nickname was a fucking cleaning product.
„Nice to meet you, John.“
"Aye, same here, but whit dae I get the pleasure of cawin ye?"
You didn't want to answer this; you weren’t open to a relationship too much, and you were already hurt by your last ex-boyfriend idiot pathetic way too tall military guy.“Let me be honest, I'm not really into anything serious with my job, but if you want to come with me in my hotel room, I wouldn't mind.“
Soap blinked at your bluntness, the corner of his lips twitching as a grin spread across his face. "I wasn't looking for something serious, but I'm sure your hotel room wouldn't be too bad.“ Sleeping around was never a problem for Johnny; he was the one to get the most lays around his squad, mainly because Garrick didn't participate, Ghost scared lassies, and Price was too afraid to hurt the woman he liked. Soft little things with wide hips and round faces weren’t for his callused hands. He kind of wanted more from you than a lay; you were just so damn perfect, but he was sure you were just like every girl he slept with, telling him it was a one-night thing, but after six screaming orgasms, they all wanted to become Mrs. MacTavish.
You walked with him towards your hotel, his hand always around the end of your back, slowly gliding to your ample bottom, squeezing it through the tight skirt you wore.
Before you arrived at the hotel, you gave one last warning: „I don’t do relationships, only sex.“
Soap grinned at your bluntness. "Good, 'Cause that makes two of us; I'm not the kind to fall for someone. I'm too busy for all the emotions and nonsense crap," Soap said bluntly. "Just good fun. Nothing else.“ He practically copied his LT words, but you don’t need to know this.
Soap followed you into the hotel room with a satisfied grin, closing the door silently behind him as he pressed you back onto the bed, one hand resting on your upper thigh as he leaned in for another kiss. His large hands quickly began running along your sides, tracing up along your back as his lips gently tugged at your bottom lip. “Ne'er bin wi' someone as tall or muscular as me?“
You laughed at that, unfortunately hurting his ego "You're the shortest guy I ever had sex with,“ and you didn't even lie, especially not after your 6’10 bastard of an ex-boyfriend.
Soap laughed aloud at this, his accent practically rumbling as his grin grew. "There's no way you're tellin' me there's been a load of men taller than me. I'm six feet tall!" Soap complains, "Am I really the shortest?" His face grew kind of insecure, but if you only knew your moments, they would make him want you more.
„Yes, but don’t worry, your accent makes it up.“
„Mhm, like my accent?“ He smiled, fiddling with the hem of your shirt.
„Yes“
„Good thing my accent is not the only thick thing about me,“ he replied with a smirk, removing his shirt and showing off his perfectly thick Lucious abs. You traced along the happy trail, eager to remove his pants, and he was right; he was incredibly thick. He wasn’t by any chance the biggest you had with his 7 solid inches but by far the thickest. His dick didn't spring up; it hung heavy and low with his angry leaking tip. You licked your lips, eager to finally have something other than your finger inside of your pleading hole.
„Like what you see, hen?“ He smirked, an arrogant Corky bastard, but somehow you liked it.
He pulled you onto your back, pulling off your tight skirt and that long-sleeve top you wore. When he saw your body, all the dimples and curves and the beautiful stretch marks around your hips, he was gone. „Fuckin hell, bonnie could have told me what you hide under those clothes,“ his hand nervously fiddled over the lacy fabric of your bra, smirking when he saw your nipples hardening under his touch. „So eager for me?“
Without a thought, he wrapped his mouth around your clothed nipples, sucking them in and gently biting on them. You wanted to remove your bra, but he stopped you. „Shh, hen, that's a sight for next time.“
„There will be no next time, John.“
„Thalere wull always bee a next time hen,“ he said, and before you could argue with him, his lips were already around your clothed mound, licking over the blue lacy fabric. „Didn't need tae dress sae cute fur me hen,“ he lured against it, pressing his thick palms deeper into your clit making you moan and whimper like a feral cat.
You couldn’t remember if you had shaved or not the last few days. "Johnny, I'm not entirely shaven down there." You warned him, afraid of his reaction. For most guys, it was an immediate no. Yes, for fucking, but no for licking, but he just looked at you with a devious smirk: „A'm mair hairy than a bear myself sae a dinnae mynd a bawherr locks aroond mah meal.“ With that, he removed your thong, completely placing the soft fabric of your thong next to his jeans so he could steal them on deployment, wanking himself on something better than the porn he had saved on his mobile phone.
„Mhm, such a bonnie cunny you have,“ he purred and started to lick thick stripes from your hole to your clit, you weren’t the patient type, so you pulled on his mohawk directly to your clit, where you pressed him inside of you. „Not very patient, hen“
He finally stopped all the teasing and used his mouth for God, licking at your clit slowly sucking her in while working your pleading mound open, his thick digits always pressed against your gummy wall.
„Fuck Johnny“
„Mhm, so wet for me, hen.“
He licked at your cunt like it was the last meal he ever had. He slurped and moaned, God, he was a messy eater, his fingers pressed against the plush fat of your hips, holding you down so you didn't run away from the orgasm he tried to give you. As he inserted a third finger, pressing against the sweet spot, most men didn't find - it was over for you.
You clenched around him, milking his thick finger for all of its worth, and experienced one of the most intense orgasms in your life. He pated some taps on your clit making you shake from the overwhelming feeling inside your tummy.
„God yere looking so bonnie when you cum,“ his eyes sparkled in admiration. He knew he had to have you for more than just a one-night thing.
„Do you have a condone, Johnny? I don’t have anything in your size.“
He could have just cum from that praise; he knew he was thick, but this was so fucking good to hear from you. "Aye,“ he said, wrapping the condom down on his shaft. His dick was a bit sad about not having the chance to fuck the most beautiful cunt he ever saw raw, but better than nothing.
He slides his thick member across your mound over and over again, wetting him with your arousal. But you weren’t in for missionary, so you pulled him to his back and sat down on his lap. You wanted to glide on him, but the unconscious fear of being too heavy hit you.
„Dinnae worry ah dae hip thrust hen“
With that, you straddled him, your legs working overtime to stretch around his big hips, and you glided yourself down on his delicious curved cock. He was surprised you could take him without any problems. God, could that girl be any more perfect?
You slowly rolled your hips on his, trying to find a movement where he hit the exact right spot. His hand grabbed your plump ass, guiding you up and down, needing to get some more friction out of you. He was already a needy whimpering mess, and you didn’t even begin fully.
„Please, bonnie move faster,“ he whimpered, and who were you to deny his cute whimpers?
He guided your hips up and down at a mean pace, searching for his orgasm; his dark black curls rubbed against your clit with every movement pulling you closer and closer to your awaiting release.
Feeling you close to orgasm, Johnny moved a hand between your legs, rubbing your clit firmly as he continued to pound into you. His fingers circled your swollen bud, teasing it until you cried out incoherently. „Johnny"
Johnny groaned, feeling himself getting closer as well. He picked up the pace even more, slamming into you harder as he leaned forward to capture one of your nipples in his mouth, sucking and biting gently through the fabric.
„Johnny, please, I'm close.“
Hearing your enthusiastic moans, Johnny let out a groan of relief as he felt his climax building. With one last hard thrust, he erupted inside of you, his cock pulsing as he shot his hot cum deep inside your wet cunt.
He panted heavily as you continued to ride him needy to reach your own orgasm. The familiar knot in your stomach started to build inside of you, and with a final slap of Johnny's finger, you came screaming his name as you began to squeeze his thick cock.
You collapsed into each other, and he wrapped his thick arms around your body. "That was intense, bonnie“ his mouth kissing around your neck.
„Yes, it was great. Would you mind leaving now? I have my flight in for hours.“
„No cuddling?“ He said he was disappointed, and as you saw his puppy eyes, you almost couldn’t resist changing your mind, but you didn’t.
„No, sorry,“ you said sternly.
He pulled his pants and shirt on, leaving a paper with his number on the bedside table: "Call me, hen.“.
——————————————————————————————————
"Stop looking at your phone. She won't call you,“ the lieutenant said to Johnny. He annoyed them the whole last week, showing your picture all around and telling everyone how good he fucked you. Ghost couldn’t deny that he found you incredibly arousing, exactly like Price and Gaz.
„She will!“
„Maybe she needs someone older.“ Price chuckled.
On his bedside table lay a small paper Roaster July 2023 Y/N.
Layover Glasgow
Layover Milan
Layover Liverpool
Layover Paris
Layover Manchester
Layover London Stansted
Whoever and wherever you are, doll, you can't escape us. Maybe you can leave Johnny, but you can't outrun me. In the end, you will choose one of us. I hope, for your sake, it's me. See you on your next layover.
Did I just made Reader a flight attendant since I always dreamt off being a flight attendant in London but Brexit said no ? Yes
#cod#cod mw2#cod mwii#cod x reader#call of duty#captain john price#john price#simon ghost riley#tf 141#tf 141 x reader#soap mw2#soap x reader#soap cod#soapghost#john soap mactavish#141#soap x you#soap x y/n#john mactavish x reader#johnny mactavish#john mactavish#ghost call of duty#call of duty modern warfare#call of duty modern warfare 3#kyle gaz garrick
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Ok it's headcanon time what do you think Peter's reaction would be when him and his friend who've been bffs for years and are very comfortable with physical touch suddenly starts to pull away from him cause she saw him flirting with another girl at thier college mixer and so she starts to pull away from his physical touches cause she feel like she should finally be able to move on from him and start her college life without pining after him all the time and slowly peter starts noticing that she always give him affection when he needs it on his tough days but refuses his touch even when he remotely comes near her
🌌
just so you know
tasm!peter x fem!reader
a/n: sorry this took ages, i forgot how to write (there was a more perfect gif but tumblr hates me)
*
“what’s going on?”
you look up again, meeting uncertain eyes with a fake sense of amusement. you know what you’re doing, and so does peter.
“what?” you tease, running your hand over plastic price tags and years of dust, staring down at ceramic mugs and tiny scentless candles.
peter puts his hand on your back, walking with you, and as a subtle and graceful friend, you quickly move away from him, pretending to kneel down and look at a set of plates.
“that. this—this thing that your doing.” peter points to you like it’s a physical entity. some thing you’re holding just to hurt him. a handful of tricks.
“looking at cat mugs?” you ask, eyebrow raised.
“avoiding me. pretending like you haven’t been evading every question i’ve asked.”
you frown, but don’t look up. you finger a curved handle, swallow and let the lies slip from your mouth without any effort. if you’ve been distant from peter recently, it’s nothing but an accident. a practiced maneuver. “i’m not avoiding you.”
“you haven’t looked at me all day.”
“i’m looking at you right now, peter.” and so you do.
peter smiles, laughs a bit, his chest rising and falling, but it’s frustrated. he runs a hand through his hair, shakes his head. and then he bends down and wraps his hand around your arm, pulling you up before you get the chance to stop him.
and you would stop him, you know, if he hadn’t already pointed out that you’ve been doing it all day. for at least the past week.
his touch burns, like a singe on your already red wounds. and even though he’s smiling at you, being as gentle as peter always is, you can see your tension, can feel your own hesitation in his skin.
“did i hurt you, or something?” he asks, biting the inside of his cheek. “i know we—well, we’re not um, that hesitant with being close, touching and stuff, but if i did something accidentally—“
“you haven’t hurt me, peter.”
“okay… then what’s going on? do you need to discuss boundaries with me?”
“what?” you laugh.
“i’m not trying to make you uncomfortable,” peter says, softly, like you’re some breakable thing. “i just want to make sure that you—that we’re okay.”
“of course we’re okay, peter.”
and then, that’s not quite true.
when you look into peters eyes, it’s not an auburn storm that you see. it’s not even yourself being reflected in his irises.
it’s flashing lights and music that made your head pound. there’s sticky floors and too many people—so much air, and too much breathing in such a small room. you see people laughing and singing, hands and bodies intertwined like it would hurt to be apart.
and it’s all sort of beautiful and disturbing, all sort of a lot—but then, there’s familiar hands, running up an unfamiliar body. peter had asked you to dance, but you knew it was only so he could laugh because he knew that you couldn’t.
when you look into peters eyes you see her. and there’s such a strong fire ignited in your chest, such a vehement jealousy that you have to look away.
you have to physically pull yourself away from him just so you don’t feel like that. just so you can tell yourself that it’s not fair.
“we’re fine,” you repeat, softly, and you look away from him. turn away, so you can block yourself away from his all too knowing stare.
you don’t pull away from his hands, but god do you want to. you want to take a break from him, a break from all of this until you can promise yourself that you just don’t care.
that you don’t crave his side stepping and hand holding and resting your head on his shoulder or leaning against his chest. that isn’t fair.
you clear your throat; you can’t lie to him, and it’s not like peter is going to let you. “it’s just…” you start, stepping towards him and then away. “i don’t know if lindsay would be comfortable with it.”
peters face flinched, he tilts his head at you. “lindsay?”
“i don’t want to get in the way of anything…”
“get in the way of what?”
you meet his eyes and laugh. “c’mon, peter. you’re not as discreet as you think you are. there was that night at the club and then the “study” dates you’ve been going on.”
“that wasn’t anything—“ peter is quick to get out, but you shove his shoulder, pretending your laughter isn’t painful.
“save it, loverboy. if you want to hold someone’s hand,” you tease, “it should be your girlfriends. i was surprised you even asked me to come gift hunting today.”
peter swallows. “she’s not my girlfriend.”
you nod, turning away from him. “yeah, okay.”
“i’m serious. we’ve been working on a project for bio-chem, that’s all.”
“i’m not blind, peter.”
he walks when you do, leaning his head down until he can see your face. “don’t you think i’d tell you if started dating someone and it was serious?”
“um, no, not really. we don’t ever talk about that stuff.”
“yeah, because you get weird whenever i bring it up.”
“i don’t get weird—“ you say, turning to glare at him. he’s closer than you expected though so whatever you were about to say falls into the air. it blows away with the feel of peters breath on your cheek.
“i would tell you,” he says, “if i had a girlfriend.”
you lean away from him, taking a deep breath in. “okay, peter. but the point still stands. you shouldn’t be holding hands with me while you’ve got a girl who’s waiting for you to get your head out of your ass. or stop lying. whatever.”
“i don’t want to hold her hand.”
peters voice is soft, and his hand is gentle as it lands on your waist. he pulls you to him, like he’s sure that you’re going to run away.
“well now i know why you don’t have a girlfriend.”
peter chuckles, staring down at you with burning eyes. and this time, when you look at him, you see only a secret catching fire. “i don’t have a girlfriend because i want to hold your hand,” he whispers, a finger brushing up against your jaw.
“o-oh.”
you stare at him, unsure what else to say.
what other announcements need to be made, what other proclamations you should probably get in writing.
peter smiles again, wider. he lets go of you and turns so his shoulder is to you. and then he grabs your hand.
“just so you know,” he says, smirk far too much.
just so you know.
*
#i’m such a tease#tasm peter x reader#andrew!spiderman#the amazing spider-man#peter parker#peter parker x reader#andrew garfield!peter parker x reader#tasm peter parker#spider-man#the amazing spider man#tasm!peter x y/n#tasm!peter x reader#tasm!peter x you#tasm!peter imagine#tasm spiderman#tasm#tasm!spiderman x reader#tasm!peter fluff#tasm!peter smut#tasm!peter one shot#tasm!peter fanfiction#tasm!peter parker#andrew garfield#peter parker x y/n#ask
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Love Is Not Enough
Fem!Reader
angst, hurt/no comfort
Part 1 | Part 2
You wake up to the sound of birds chirping outside and the beams of sunshine reaching the soft skin of your cheeks through the white linen curtains.
You stretch your body, let out a shaky sigh and place your feet on the warm parquet, making your way towards the sound of shuffling and rattling of plates in the kitchen.
“Good morning, lovie.” he greets with a faint smile. “G’morning, Si.” you mumble, lost in your mind. There's a heavy weight on your chest and you ponder on how to bring up the issue.
He narrows his eyes with concern, “Is there something wrong?” he questions. You hum, not totally present, anxiety bubbling up in your stomach.
A few moments pass, until you can’t take it anymore, “Si, we need to talk.” you finally blurt out. “I need to tell you something first." he says, guilt and shame filling up his heart.
You nod, "I talked to Price about the vacation leave, and I can’t take it right now. I'm so sorry. But I promise I will. Soon.” he speaks apologetically, ashamed to have disappointed you.
“What?” you ask with disbelief, feeling disheartened. “But you said...” your lips wobble and a lump forms in your throat. Even though you weren't sure it would fix everything, but you were hoping it would help just a little.
How naive of you to believe he would put you before his work just once. But you chose to give him the benefit of the doubt. And he broke your heart yet again.
“Si, you’ve been working and working the past year. You don’t spend time with me anymore. We're falling apart. Am I the only one who feels it? Or you think last night solved it? Sex doesn’t fix everything, Simon!” you shout, finally taking out your anger and frustration.
“I know that. But I never thought- what do you mean we’re falling apart? No! We can work through this!” he tries to reassure you, his heart crumbling in his chest at the thought of losing you.
"How, Simon? You thought you can put everything on hold? Put me on hold? And come back whenever you wanted?" you yell at him, frustrated.
"I just need some time." he replies, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Simon, you had plenty of time. Nothing will change. You won’t change. You're not willing to put in even the slightest bit of effort. I'm the only one constantly fighting for this relationship to work." you argue.
"You knew what you got yourself into when you married me. What do you want? You want me to leave my work? I can't fuckin' do that! Maybe you're not mature enough for this relationship!" he finally snaps, raising his voice higher with each word.
You scoff at his words, "So I'm the only one who should make sacrifices? Simon, that's not how relationships work!" you shout back.
You take a deep breath to calm yourself down, "Your work always comes first. I know that now." you say, defeated expression written on your face as you finally give up fighting this futile fight.
You walk away towards the bedroom. Moments later, you come back with the papers and place them on the counter.
"What are these?" he asks, "Divorce papers." you reply coldly. “What?” his mouth hangs open and his eyes widen, immediately regretting his previous words as he sees how serious you are.
“I’ve been thinking about it for a while. I want a divorce. I think it’s for the best.” you mention calmly and he looks at you as though he sees a different person.
He can't believe the words that just came out of your mouth and how calm you are about it. What he doesn't know is that your heart is being torn apart as you speak the words.
“No! No fuckin' way!” he responds firmly. “What do you mean no? You can’t just say no!” you retort. “No! I won’t divorce you! You're my wife! I won’t...” he shuts his eyes and lets out a sigh, “Give me some time, please!” he pleads with tears in his eyes and you nearly give in at the sight of him.
"I did. Countless times. I can't take it anymore. Deal with a cold and empty home, frightened out of my mind about your safety. I think you should think this through, Simon. There's no other way.” you say, gently touching his arm, trying so hard to keep yourself from breaking down right in front of him.
He stands there, heartbroken and bewildered, trying to digest what just happened, silent tears dampening his cheeks.
You make your way to your shared bedroom and start packing your stuff, shedding tears as the memories flash before your eyes and you weep, mourning your marriage with the man whom you will always love.
"Wait! Where are you going?" he walks up to you, standing in the doorframe, preventing you from passing. "Simon, let me go please." you plead, hoping he wouldn't, hoping for him to take a step towards you for once.
"I love you. We can fix this. Please!" he implores, sobbing. "How?" you ask, desperately hoping for an answer.
But there is none as it dawns on him. There's no other way. And it's not fair to you to go on like this.
You hold his face in your hands, caressing the scars on his cheeks and upper lip, "I love you, Simon. But that’s not enough, is it?"
Years have passed and he still can’t forgive himself for what he has done, cursing himself for pushing you away to the point of entirely leaving his life and for not fighting for you harder.
He still ponders on what he could’ve done differently as his head hangs low, sitting on the sofa, holding a glass of whiskey, fidgeting with the ring in his hand, wondering if you kept yours too.
He wishes he could forget you, the sound of your beautiful voice, your heavenly features and your delicate touch, but you're the only one there is for him, his whole mind and soul immersed in you. He belongs to you and you belong to him.
comments/reblogs are greatly appreciated ♥
@preeyansha
@icouldntthinkofanythingclever
#simon riley#simon ghost riley#simon riley x reader#simon ghost riley x reader#simon riley x you#simon ghost riley x you#cod x reader#ghost x reader#simon ghost x reader#ghost riley#ghost simon riley#cod fanfic#ghost cod#cod ghost#ghost call of duty#call of duty#cod mw2#cod#mw2#cod modern warfare
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REQUESTS OPEN ?!?!?!? PLEEEEASE ,MAY I ????
May i request a piece for our boi Casper ( Ghost ) 🥹🥹? Something along the idea of : mutual pining with reader being an absolute sweetheart to Ghost (and everyone else but mostly Casper) BUT it starts with Ghost trying to make reader go away by being a dick to them to avoid dealing with the feelings, reader gets hurt and upset and then turn into the most cold stone souless person every seen by mankind and ofcourse Ghost is mad and trying to fix it but how to do that when nothing works .... Confess \o/
Can be nsfw if you want it to be, I can bet on anything that no one will mind :3
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Orion
Simon "Ghost" Riley x fem!reader
[“Orion” by Metallica]
[18+]
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• summary - a bit of grumpy x sunshine. grumpy fucks it up and really, really wants to apologise lol.
• rating - 18+
• wordcount - 5k
• warnings - fem!reader, grumpy!ghost at the start but that doesn't last long lol, porn with a sprinkle of plot, a bit of subby!ghost [he begs— you're fucking welcome whores 🙏], oral [f!receiving], unprotected piv, mutual masturbation, orgasm denial?, ok it's not "a bit" of sub!ghost it's a lot of sub!ghost, he whines and whimpers in this btw, praise, begging, good lord this is self-indulgent, strong language
thank you anon !! i've changed it a little, just because i don't think ghost would be a complete dick, just a grumpy and if he does act like a dick, he doesn't mean it fr <3 but i hope you like it anyway !!
and hehe yes i made it nsfw i can't resist i mean look at that man
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He was hopelessly in love with you.
And it fucking pissed him off.
How could he not be? You flounced around base, smiling and giggling at god knows what. You cooked for the task force, helped clean, kept them company in the rec-room, all with a dazzling smile plastered on your face.
You were kind and respectful, too. Always did what Price told you, like a good little rookie. Always listened to Soap's advice, improving your shooting techniques. Always understood Gaz's signals, knowing exactly what he was thinking, and what he wanted you to do. And always, always being so good for your lieutenant.
You waited on tenterhooks at every word that came from Ghost's mouth. He watched the way you listened to him, your full attention on him. Sparkling eyes watching his next move, ears in tune to the slight huff and puff of his brewing anger. It seemed you knew how to deal with his emotions better than he did.
And it pissed him off.
You never seemed to get angry with him, frustrated or upset. No matter how many times he raised his voice, reprimanded you for doing something utterly moronic. You just nodded, apologised calmly, smiled and walked away, leaving him smouldering inside his own grievances.
"What the fuck are you doing, rookie? You're in the fucking way."
"Sorry, Lieutenant!" You chirped, bounding away.
And that wasn't the only way you put up with him.
Some days were hard for Ghost, dealing with everything going on inside his head. He struggled to admit it, too. So when he found himself in the barracks kitchen at three in the morning, frustration bubbling inside him, he threw the jar he had struggled— and failed to open— at the wall. It burst, shattering into a million tiny pieces, sprinkling across the floor like shards of crystal. The contents— strawberry jam, if he remembered correctly— slugged down the wall, a vibrant red trail smearing against the paint.
You entered, maybe awoken by the shattering of glass, finding Ghost heaving silently in the kitchen, chest moving at a million miles per hour as his heart raced.
You stretched a hand in his direction. "Are you—?"
"Don't." Ghost hissed.
You retreated.
"Do you need—?"
"Didn't I fucking say don't?" Ghost snapped, eyes flashing.
He knew that was harsh. Saw it in the way your bottom lip trembled every so slightly, and your sparkling eyes dimmed in the low light of the kitchen. But, you didn't give up. Of course you fucking didn't.
He watched you silently as you grabbed the broom from the edge of the room, and began sweeping up the glass. He continued to watch as you scooped up the shards of glass, every last glittering fragment, and toss them into the bin. You even cleaned the large smear of jam off the wall, humming quietly to yourself as you did.
Ghost just watched.
Once you were done, you turned to him, offering a sympathetic smile. Then, you walked to the refrigerator and plucked another jar of jam from the door. You offered it to him, still smiling.
"This one's raspberry. Not strawberry, unfortunately, but I think it tastes better, anyway." Maybe you were just trying to make him feel better. If you did, it worked. Spitefully well, too.
He took it from you. He didn't thank you, though, just turned away with a muffled sigh. You continued to look at him, a soft smile still on your lips.
He wondered if you were expecting a thank you. Probably. So when he went to open his mouth, when he went to mutter out a thank you, he turned, and you were gone, shuffling out of the kitchen, still humming to yourself.
A week later, Ghost was still intent on denying whatever it was he felt for you.
The five of you on a day off, relaxing around the rec-room. You played pool with Gaz, laughing. Melodic. You looked so carefree, so effortlessly beautiful, and it made Ghost's cheeks heat up beneath his mask. Fucking hell.
You were quite handsy with the sergeant, too, Ghost noticed. Hugging and touching, arms around his waist, fingers trailing his arms. Ghost watched from across the room, seething silently. Gaz made you laugh again. Again and again and the sound of your laughter was making the grip Ghost had on his glass almost earth-shattering. All white-knuckle and pure jealously. Not like he admitted that to himself, though.
You eventually turned your pretty face towards Ghost, lips curved.
"Fancy a game, L.T?" You battered your eyelashes, biting your lower lip briefly. Or was that in Ghost's head?
"Pass." Ghost forced himself to grunt, heat blooming in his chest.
You pouted. "Aw, come on, Ghost—!"
"Pass." Ghost repeated, cutting you off with his deep baritone.
You closed your mouth, but still his grumpiness didn't deter you. You shrugged to yourself, turning back to Gaz with that signature smile of yours.
"Another round then, Garrick?"
"You're on."
A few days after that, Ghost was reaching his breaking point.
He was trying everything in his right mind to keep you away from him. To stop you from being such a goddamn angel, doting on his every doing. He wanted you to see who he really was, who he felt like he really was.
You were particularly happy this day. Seemingly bouncing around the barracks, the pure essence of you permeating the entire space— burning white, tooth-rotting sweetness, smelling of everything that Ghost loved. Loved about you. Fuck, he was mad.
You circled the room, hugging each of your comrades. You hugged Price like the father-figure he was. Short and sweet, but warm and comforting. You had your head to his chest, mumbling something that made Price smile, eyes squinting.
Then you hugged Soap. The bastard swept you off your feet, making you giggle. He said something to you that had you snorting out a bemused laugh, smacking him lightly on the chest when he put you down. He pat you gently on the head before you were sprinting to Gaz.
The way your face lit up made Ghost's heart clench.
You practically threw yourself into Gaz's arms, your arms around his shoulders as his circled your waist. He pressed you close— too close for Ghost's liking— rocking you gently as you thanked him. For what? What the hell were you thanking him for?
After what seemed like an eternity of Ghost burning daggers into you and the sergeant, you broke away, and began to approach Ghost. He froze in place, back to the kitchen counter. What were you doing? Approaching him looking so happy and perfect?
He acted out. On instinct.
You opened your arms, and he skulked away.
"Don't you dare," he grumbled, backing away. "I am not in the mood for whatever it is you're doing today, rookie."
Your smile faltered. A millisecond. "But, Ghost—?"
"Seriously, rookie," Ghost said sternly. "What's got you acting like this at eight in the morning?"
At that very moment, he felt his heart break into thousands of pieces.
Your smile dropped.
The glimmer in your eyes faded.
Without a word, you left the room, and Gaz hurried after you. Ghost followed your departing form with curious eyes. Then, he turned to Price and Soap, who were looking at him in dissapointment.
"What?" He gritted, jaw ticking.
"You're a fool, L.T. A real fool." Soap shook his head slowly.
Ghost huffed. "What d'you mean?"
"You're always acting like a complete dick to her," Soap continued. "Even on her birthday."
Ghost's heart leapt into his throat, stomach twisting, making him nauseous.
"Her... birthday?" Ghost tried not to let the waver in his voice sound through.
Soap nodded. "Yeah. S'why she's in such a good mood. Gaz got her something nice, I think—"
"What Soap's trying to say is that you, being a stubborn prick, has made her special day... not so special." Price added, digging a cigar and a lighter from his pocket. He left the room, heading outside, offering no more words, making Ghost's nervousness swell.
He turned to Soap, desperation clawing his insides. "What should I—?"
"Go and apologise, ya fuckhead." Soap beat him to it.
Wordlessly, Ghost left, hurrying towards your bedroom. When he got there, Gaz was just leaving, and the sergeant gave the lieutenant a stern look.
Ghost was almost breathless. "I need—"
"No, you don't, Ghost," Gaz said softly. "You've done enough."
"But—?"
"Seriously, Ghost, just leave," Gaz continued. "You're always so grumpy towards her, anyway. Just leave it."
He pushed past Ghost. Ghost stood outside your door, the urge to open it almost overwhelming. But he didn't. Hands in fists, nails digging into his palms, he walked away.
He needed to hit something.
•º•
You successfully avoided him for a week. He commended you internally for your ability to avoid him like the fucking plague. But, he hated it. He hated the way he made you feel, and he hated the way you were making him feel. His emotions were all over the place, and he desperately needed to get them in check.
So, he came to a conclusion.
He needed to apologise.
Well, he had been trying to. You weren't having any of it. He respected that.
But now, he was inching past his ability to remain respectful. Each time your smile faded when he entered the room; each time you ignored a simple favour or request of his; each time you wrapped yourself into Gaz's arms after a long, strenuous mission.
That sent him over the edge.
It was a stormy night, complete with heavy rain and the distant roll of thunder, when Ghost idled outside your bedroom door. He was a war-machine, a killer— but he was desperately working himself up to knock on your door. He was nervous.
So when he did finally knock, his heartrate was elevated.
You opened the door a crack, peering into the shadowed hallway. Ghost saw your eyes flicker across his body; how rich they were in emotion. He rushed forward and quickly jammed his foot in the door, noticing you begin to push it closed.
"What do you want?" You hissed, so devoid of your usual sunshine.
"Can... can I talk to you?"
A moment passed. Then, you opened the door, and let him inside.
Your room was exactly how Ghost had imagined it. Just like you. Warm, cozy, sweet-smelling. It was dripping in everything that was you. Ghost inhaled deeply, watching as you plonked yourself down on the edge of your bed, body illuminated by the soft golden light of your lamp.
You crossed your arms over your chest. "Well?"
Ghost just released it all. Everything he wanted to tell you, he did. He apologised profusely, again and again. He admitted to being a complete dickhead, and then apologised for that. He thanked you for putting up with him, for listening to him, for understanding him so well. And at the end of it all, he confessed.
"I'm in love with you."
You gaped at him.
"Always have been."
You were at a loss for words.
But Ghost wasn't. For the first time in a long time, he wasn't.
"I love you, rookie. I really do."
You blinked at him, then slowly got to your feet. He watched you, heart slamming against his ribcage, cheeks stinging hot beneath the fabric of his balaclava. He watched as you neared, lifting your hands to cup his face over the material.
"Prove it."
Ghost swallowed, throat dry all of a sudden. "What?"
"Prove how much you love me." You whispered, biting your lower lip.
This time, Ghost knew the action wasn't just in his head.
Because when he pressed closer to you, placing his gloved hands on your waist, he saw you release your bottom lip and curl your mouth into a smile. The smile he loved.
"I'm sorry, for everything." Ghost whispered as he backed you towards your bed.
"I know," you said, sitting on your bed and hooking your legs around his waist, pulling him down on top of you. "So show me."
Ghost couldn't help himself. Even with the mask still on, he slammed his mouth onto yours. He expected some kind of protest as he parted his lips, tongue pressing to the smooth fabric, heat and moisture smothering yours. But you didn't— you sighed outwardly, becoming pliant as you moved your own lips, revelling in the solid heat of his tongue against your own through the fabric.
He let out a low sound, a mix between a grunt and a whine, as he pressed himself closer to you. He was slowly getting frustrated by the material barrier as he kissed you. He pulled away, a string of saliva connecting your mouth to the lower part of his mask. It snapped, and made Ghost's breath hitch.
It's like you could read his mind as you looked into his eyes.
"You wanna take it off?" You asked, fingers at his neck, where the end of the balaclava sat snugly near the base. Your fingers squeezed gently, and he exhaled loudly.
He whined, hushed, from the back of his throat. "Yeah..."
"Yeah?" You grinned, gently rolling the mask upwards. It cleared his neck, then over his jaw, exposing his mouth and nose, before finally being ripped from his head entirely, leaving him exposed to you.
He usually would have felt nervous. Self-conscious, definitely. But not tonight. Not when, as a clap of thunder sounded outside, you moaned at the sight of him, and yanked his face back towards your own. It made his cock harden, painful in his cargos, as your mouths interlocked again. Your tongue swept into his first, and he let out another low noise, your fingers tugging at the roots of his hair.
Ghost shifted you both, making sure your head touched your pillows, resting comfortably. Still kissing, his hands explored down your body, skimming your sides, your thighs. Your hands tightened in his hair when one of his hands drifted inwards, brushing your upper inner thigh. He panted as you pulled him away from you, blond locks clutched in your fist. He looked down at you, eyes and lips just as glossy as each other, cheeks pink.
"You still want to apologise?" You asked, other hand drawing around his face and cupping his jaw.
He nodded, slightly, not doing much in your grip.
"Good," you hummed, pleased. "Get on the floor."
He did as he was told. Straight a-fucking-way. Now kneeling on the floor beside your bed, you sat on the edge. Slowly, ever so slowly, you pulled down your pyjama pants. Ghost watched you, completely rapt, as your fingers worked your underwear down your legs.
"Fucking hell..." He whispered as you kicked your underwear away.
You put your backside onto the edge of your bed, beckoning him closer. He shuffled further, and you placed your legs across his shoulders as his hands snaked up to grab at your thighs. Your core was bare to him under the golden lamplight, practically glistening. He withheld a moan as he leaned forward, attempting to put his mouth on you. But, you stopped him— clamping your thighs on either side of his head.
This time, he did let his moan out, high and breathy as he looked up at you through long, blond lashes, head encased between the plush of your thighs.
You looked down at him, tutting. "What do you want?"
He blinked at you, eyes narrowing slightly.
You flexed the muscles of your legs, tightening the weight of your thighs against his ears and cheeks. He grunted, closing his eyes.
"Well?" You prompted. "Tell me, Si."
Maybe it was the use of the nickname, of his real name. Maybe it was the heat of your flesh searing the sides of his head. Maybe it was the way his erection was growing impossibly hard inside his pants. Whatever it was made Ghost whimper. Fucking whimper.
Embarrassment, red hot, flared across his face.
"Want to taste you," he whispered, face burning. "Please."
"This is how you wanna apologise?" You teased, bringing a hand down to his head, massaging his scalp. "Wanna make me cum on your tongue?"
He tried his best to reply, groaning deep from his chest, hands kneading the flesh of your thighs. "Please, baby, please."
You chuckled, releasing the tension in your legs. "Only because you asked so nicely."
Ghost was elated. He practically surged forward, licking a fat stripe up your slit. You mewled, hands clinging to his hair, as he ran his tongue up and down your folds. He repeated his actions, before dragging his tongue downwards, circling your dripping hole. Nose nudging your clit, his tongue delved inside you, making you shudder.
He was in heaven. The small, breathy noises you were making; the way you gripped and pulled at his slightly grown-out hair; the taste of your arousal that was leaking out of you. His cock jumped with each stroke of his tongue, his own arousal building with each subtle sound he elicited from your pretty mouth. His large, gloved hands massaged your thighs, groping the soft flesh. He enjoyed the warmth near the sides of his head.
"Feels good, Si." You breathed, and Ghost's cock jumped again.
He groaned into you, vibrations sending your mind spiralling. Heat was building in the base of your tummy as his nose continually nudged against your swollen clit. Ghost was grunting and groaning quietly into your sopping cunt, lapping up every bit of arousal he could. Pearls of it slipped past his lips, rolling down his chin, iridescent in the light. He didn't care. Of course he didn't. He was fucking loving it.
You moaned again when Ghost quickly moved his tongue in a zig-zag motion up your slit, before sucking your clit into his mouth, front teeth grazing it gently. Your hips bucked, urging him closer.
"Si, oh my god— ha, fuck— feels so good," you keened, pleasure unfurling inside you. "Fuck, doing so good, Si. Such a good boy—"
Ghost short-circuited as you came in his mouth. He dipped his head to stuff his tongue back into your hole just in time, catching your release in his mouth. But your breathy words, good boy, echoed around his skull and made him whine, impossibly loud, into your cunt. He felt his stomach pang, balls tightening, before he fucking came in his pants, whispering your name into your fluttering hole.
His face grew hotter than it already was when he pulled away from you, dragging his right cheek across your inner thigh, light stubble tickling you. You breathed deeply above him, watching with hooded eyes as he placed a line of gentle kisses from your bikini line to your knee.
You massaged his scalp, and his eyes fluttered.
He was wondering if you noticed that he—
You released a breathy laugh, and his eyes snapped open, immediately finding yours. You tugged your legs away, planting them on the floor. Ghost continued to kneel in front of you.
"Aww, my poor baby," you muttered, and it would've been patronising if Ghost wasn't so whipped right now. "D'you cum already?"
He grit his teeth. "Don't—"
"S'okay, Si, it's okay," you smiled, patting his burning cheek. "I understand. I tasted that good, huh?"
You laughed again, another roll of thunder cracking outside. Ghost nodded, ashamed almost, but not regretful. He'd die a happy man if he could spend even another second in your wet cunt.
"Come on then," you said suddenly, scooting back onto your bed. "Since you're so desperate, right?"
He looked at you and then slowly got to his feet, legs trembling slightly.
You leaned against your pillow— looking like an absolute angel— spreading your legs as you wiggled your bra off, exposing your tits. Ghost's cock grew again, sticky with his own spend. You dragged your hands over your tits, tweaking your nipples while Ghost clambered onto the bed, kneeling between your legs. He was still fully dressed.
Not for long, clearly.
"Clothes." You said simply, and he obeyed.
Your hands dragged down your body, skirting across your stomach as Ghost pulled his gloves and shirt off, his trousers following. He huffed, pulling his underwear off and dumping them on the floor, ignoring the obvious that was splattered inside. Now bare, he kneeled back between your legs, a hand settling on one of your ankles, the other gripping the base of his cock.
Your hands dipped between your legs, and he let out a gravelly whine as you pushed two fingers into your wet cunt, the other hand moving a finger to your puffy clit. He was salivating.
"You know, I've liked you for a long time, Si," you said, voice a bit whiny. Ghost licked his lips. You continued, voice a whisper. "Mm... 's how I touched myself thinking about you."
You demonstrated perfectly; two fingers knuckle deep in your hole, another pressing tight circles to your clit. You mewled his name.
"Oh, fuck." Ghost whispered, hips and cock bucking into his fist. Just once. The look you gave him made him pause. All fucked out, blissful, in complete and utter control.
"Mhm, yeah— my grumpy lieutenant, always telling me what to do. Always so rough with me," you crooned as you fucked yourself with your fingers, Ghost's eyes burning into you as he lazily stroked himself. "S'just... that's not you, is it, Si? You don't wanna be rough with me, do you? You just wanna be my good boy, I know."
Ghost whined, releasing his cock and crawling up to you. He grabbed your hands, pulling them away from your cunt, much to your amusement.
"Fucking Christ, don't say that—" Ghost hissed as he brought your hand to his face, drawing your two fingers into his mouth and sucking your arousal clean off.
You smiled. "What? Considering you came in your boxers untouched, I'd say you like being called that."
Ghost groaned, fingers leaving his mouth with a wet pop. A string of saliva followed, and it broke when he chased past your hand, pressing his mouth to yours. You kissed, hot and heavy, for a minute, the rain hammering the roof outside. You moved a hand down, skating down his abs, before gripping his cock.
"Hah—" He breathed, gasping into your mouth as you pumped him, fingers wet with his saliva.
You kissed him still: sloppily, as you jerked him off. He barely responded, lips pliant against yours, eyes closed as the pleasure of your hand around his cock sent him into a daze. You licked into his mouth, his tongue struggling to meet yours, as you pumped him faster and faster until you could feel him twitching in your hand.
"Mmm... gonna..." Ghost murmured, drunk, against your mouth.
You pulled your hand away.
"Ah— fuck no," Ghost swallowed a frustrated moan, voice muted as you pushed his head away.
You licked your lips as you looked at him. He could've cum from that sight alone.
"You want to make it up to me, right?" You asked.
He nodded, cheeks red.
You leaned in close, pressing a kiss to the curve of his jaw. "Then fuck me."
Ghost's mouth dropped open in a short lived moan before you were kissing him. Kissing him so hard it made him dizzy; high off the sweet taste of you.
Meanwhile, he was clumsily aligning his cock with your wet cunt, his tip reddened and leaking pre, rolling in rivulets down the sides of his rigid cock. The head notched your entrance, and you released a shaky breath. He pulled out of the kiss.
"You... alright?" He asked, sounding more than a little breathless.
You nodded. "Mmmfuck, yeah."
"You sure?" He asked, the head of his cock sitting heavy at your entrance.
You looked him directly in the eyes, and he released a low sound, bending to kiss you again.
"Please," you said into the kiss. "Need you to fuck me, Si."
"Okay," he murmured, dragging his lips along your jaw. "Okay, okay, fuck, okay—"
He eased his cock into you as he mumbled incoherently, cursing. You were so wet, so warm, so fucking tight. He nipped at your neck, distracting himself so he didn't cum straight away because he did not need that kind of embarrassment haunting him for the rest of his life. Your arms curled around his broad shoulders, fingers flexing along the rigid plains of his muscles, tips brushing each smooth scar.
"That's it, Si, that's it," you told him, lips to the shell of his ear. "Feels good— so full."
He whimpered into your neck, face and body hot as his cock sunk further into you. His hips slapped to yours as he finally bottomed out, just as he moved himself out of your neck so that he could look down at you. As usual, you looked absolutely stunning; eyes glazed, kiss-bitten lips parted.
He couldn't help himself.
"You're beautiful," he said as he pulled his cock all the way out, before slamming back into you. "So beautiful... so pretty... such a pretty girl."
You hummed a moan past the smile spreading on your lips, Ghost finding a pace and rhythm as he bullied his cock into your wet heat over and over again, heavy balls slapping the curve of your arse as you were jolted against your mattress.
Ghost's hands were all over your body, as if he was committing it to memory. Running up and down your sides, groping along your tits, fingers dancing across your throat. Large hands moved to your thighs, massaging the plush flesh. Gently, he grasped the backs of your knees and slowly pushed your legs upwards, towards your chest. You smiled lazily at him as, still drilling his cock into you, he tucked your legs to your chest, pressing his body impossibly closer.
You tossed your head back, moaning loudly at the new angle. His warm hands on your legs, the heat of his hard body against yours, his fat cock stuffing you full. The sounds he was making. You were incased in pure ecstasy.
Ghost was a whimpering, whining mess above you. The big boy with the skull-face, so dangerous and imposing and deadly, reduced to such a sensitive, desperate being.
He was still whispering things under his breath, eyes periodically closing each time your cunt pulsed around him.
"S-such a pretty girl, my pretty girl," he uttered before a keening moan. "Hah—fuck— mmm—my god."
Already, you noticed the shift in his pace and thrusts; growing sloppier, yet he still nailed that spongey spot inside you that made you dig your nails harder into his back, stretching you tighter.
"Feels good, Si?" You prompted as he flopped his head back into the crook of your neck, hulking figure still pinning your legs to your chest, his hands heavy on your thighs.
"So good," he whispered into your neck. "So good, baby, fuck— 'm not gonna last."
You arched closer into him as the head of his cock kissed your womb. You could feel him in your stomach, and clearly, so could Ghost. He moved backwards, out of your neck, parting your bent legs. He could see the imprint of his cock deep inside you, a small bump in the soft mound of your tummy. He groaned deeply, pressing a hand to it. Then, you both moaned in unison, before he was snapping your legs back against your chest and spearing his cock inside you with newfound vigour.
"Gonna cum Si." You told him, pressing kisses along his face.
"Yeah?" He caught your lips, licking into your mouth for a second. "Yeah, come on then, baby, please."
A thick jumble of come on baby, come on's left his mouth, followed by almost pitiful please's.
You came around his cock as the rain hit the roof, a flash of lightening appearing behind the curtains of your window.
"Simon—!" You gasped.
Your sounds, your smell, your everything was making Ghost go fucking insane. Your cunt squeezed him as you came, your arousal amplifying and slicking each of his desperate movements. His cock sunk in and out of you with wet faps as he barrelled towards his orgasm.
"Hah... hah... fuck— m'gonna— hngh fuck— w-where do you want me?"
He was still so deep inside you. How could you say anything else but; "Inside, please, Si."
"Ah, t-thank fuck—" Ghost muttered, making you smile up at the ceiling, eyes blinking slowly.
His whole body was burning up as his orgasm crashed over him. He thrusted once, twice, getting as deep as he could, as he came inside you. He moaned, stifling it in your neck, rutting himself against you as you were filled with rope after rope of warmth.
"Good boy, Si, so good..." You murmured as he fucked his cum into you, broad figure shuddering as he caught his breath, your fingers raking down his back.
"Fucking hell..." He whispered.
His movements stopped, and the both of you took a moment to catch your breaths. You were still pressed tight to one another, his cock stuffed inside you, barely beginning to soften.
You ran your hands down his back as he released your legs, allowing you to flop them against your bed as he settled on top of you. He wrapped his arms around your waist, nuzzling his nose along the curve of your shoulder and neck, nosing the junction of your jaw below your ear. He placed a kiss to the soft skin.
You both listened to the heavy rain loud against the roof.
"You alright?" You asked, running your fingers through his overgrown military-grade cut. I guess the mask meant he didn't have to get a haircut as often.
He hummed sleepily against you. "Yeah, love."
A beat passed, then; "You alright?"
You smiled. "I'm good. Really good."
He kissed the spot below your ear again. "Good."
Comfortable silence again. Ghost felt as though he was on cloud nine— curled up with you, satiated and happy, his cock still deep inside your cunt, which was now slowly overflowing with his cum, leaking onto the bed. He pressed his nose to the pulse-point near your ear. You smelled so good.
And to top it all off—
"I love you, Si."
He felt his heart explode.
He hugged you tighter. "I love you too."
•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•
would ghost ever do this "irl"? absolutely not. is this fictional and am i delusional? one hundred percent.
#captainfern#captainfernsalutes#call of duty#call of duty mw2#fem reader#ghost x f!reader#cod ghost#ghost cod#ghost smut#ghost call of duty#cod smut#simon ghost riley#simon riley x you#captain’smetallica
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A Little Bit Of Heaven
CW: NSFW, FTM subbot Gaz, domtop Male Reader, oral, scar kissing, soft fluffy sex, body worship, lingerie, fem language, reader is whipped for Gaz
PS: This is inspired by @ramvur 's art piece of Gaz, @el-chonkus you wanted to be tagged so here you go :D
The last few months have been Hell on both of you; mission after mission, drill after drill, chasing away exhaustion and sleep deprivation with copious amounts of caffeine in an attempt to put a dent in the stacks of paperwork you've been given. Despite spending most of your time together, be it training recruits or as battle buddies on missions, it feels like you and Kyle never have time for each other, the only time you two have to be intimate being when Kyle sleeps on your shoulder during the long plane rides.
So when Price tells you you two are cleared for a week of military leave, you jump at the chance to have a proper vacation. Once you get the tickets you put it in an envelope, going out to find Gaz.
You find him in your shared bunk room, peacefully snoring with a book splayed over his chest. Even in his sleep he's on edge, fingers twitching occasionally as if pulling the trigger of a gun. You're quiet as a mouse as you walk to his bed, kneeling to press a chaste kiss to his lips.
Kyle's eyelids flutter open, your familiar outline in his blurry vision calms him before military grade instincts can kick in, having to blink a few times to focus on you. "Mhm, what'ime isit?" He slurs as he sits up, the few minutes of sleep doing nothing to lessen the bags under his pretty brown eyes.
"Still early." You say, keeping your voice low. "I'm sorry for waking you,"
"Is fine," He waves away your apology, reaching out to wrap a loose arm around your neck, pulling you closer. "Did you need something?" Kyle's still groggy as he nuzzles your cheeks together, aiming for your lips but winding up kissing your nose.
"Yeah," You take a moment to relish the intimacy, not that Kyle minds, breathing in your scent with a happy sigh; God knows how long you'd spent in an intimacy deficit. "Guess what I did." You say with a humorous tone.
That sobers him up enough to lean back and give you a critical eye. "If you hid Price's cigars again I'm not hiding you." He warns, but there's obvious amusement in his voice.
"No, no," You snort, holding out the envelope for him. "It's something better."
"Do I even want to know?" Kyle raises an eyebrow but takes the envelope, opening it. Inside he finds two plane tickets to Greece, along with an invoice for a rented villa. "Are these. . .?" His voice dies down as he looks at you with wide eyes.
"You did say you wanted to go somewhere warm." You shrug a shoulder, trying not to show how much you hope he'll be pleased by this seeing as you two hadn't planned anything for your leave.
"Oh, mate," You can't describe the wide smile that graces his features, bright like the sun, one you'd happily let blind you. "Come here you-" He pulls you so close your foreheads bonk together, you can feel his grin as he kisses you. "-beautiful bastard." He sighs as your lips part but you don't, breathing in the same air.
"You're the beautiful one." Your comment has him giggling like a child; Kyle's laugh feels like silk on your ears, so infectious you find yourself giggling too. "Do you like them?"
"Do you even need to ask?" He teases, pulling you into another kiss.
. . .
Gaz is very smug on the day you're supposed to leave, cheeky as he gushes to Soap of all the things you two have got planned for your vacation, which of course has the Scot whining to Ghost about 'stepping up'. But it's all in good fun and you're sent off with a few demands to bring souvenirs.
Despite how tired you two are, the entire plane ride to Greece is spent learning about the local town near the villa you'd rented and all the tourist attractions there, learning a few sayings as well as how not to get scammed.
He's like a kid on Christmas when you finally get to the villa, exploring every room and the grounds around it; It's as pretty as it is old, spiderwebs of ivy and roses wrapping around the columns and sides of it, built on a cliff overlooking the ocean, but far bigger than what you two are used to, Kyle's animated assessment of every little detail in the frescos, evaporating the eeriness of the empty rooms.
And of course, the first thing you do when you get there is sleep a solid 24 hours, your exhaustion catching up to you two. You wake up the next day to Kyle still snoring next to you, much more relaxed and clutching you like a koala. He doesn't even stir when you get out of bed to make him and you a very late breakfast, receiving loving kisses on the cheek when Kyle finally stumbles out of dream land.
You spend your vacation doing all the typical couple things, thousands of photos filling Gaz's phone — you two dinning out or attempting to make some local dishes, several of you two donkey riding across the mountains (and one that he'd favored of a donkey trying to eat your clothes), silly photos of you two interacting with the statues in a nearby garde (you especially love the one of him imitating one), pictures of sunsets and sunrises and a dozen more of him coming out of the water, some selfies of Gaz with you haggling with a merchant in the background as well as your triumphant smirk as you hold a pearl necklace to Kyle's neck from behind.
Kyle likes to look at the photos when he wakes up before you, your body warm and pressed against his from behind while you sleep with your arms around him, his chest light as a feather from how intimate you two had been able to be, how lovely you'd been to him, a true gentleman and every bit the man he fell in love with.
And Kyle decides he wants to do something for you. And for him. A nice gift for the both of you.
He has to shove his pillow into your arms otherwise you wouldn't let go of him, a small giggle leaving his lips at how you nuzzle and hug the pillow like a koala. He tries to stay quiet as he goes to the dresser to pick up the small special suitcase he'd brought just for this vacation, picking out the clothes he'd wanted to wear just for you and him, but never got the time.
He watches himself in the mirror as he puts on the stockings, the material soft against his skin, the kitten heels fitting him perfectly. Kyle struggles with the bralette for a few minutes, but it's worth it when it frames his pecs in such a pleasing way, perking them up and hiding the top scars that run beneath them. Finally comes the long feathered robe, dragging behind him when he twirls in front of the mirror.
Kyle can feel giddy bubbling in his chest, heart beating just a bit faster. Back on base he would have felt ashamed at wearing something so frivolous and impractical, he was a soldier god damn it, but here, with you, he's just Kyle.
Gaz glances to your still sleeping form as he sits by the vanity to do his makeup, lipstick and mascara and a light blush, taking care of the small amount of facial he's managed to grow. He can't wait to see how you'll react when you see him like this. . .
A little mischievous smirk crosses his features and Gaz silently comes to your side of the bed, leaning down to kiss your face, leaving red lipstick marks all across your skin before leaving you to wake up to his surprise.
. . .
You wake from sunlight filtering through the curtains, the soft sound of Kyle humming rousing you from your dreams. You attempt to cuddle closer but soon enough figure out it's a pillow you're hugging. You grumble and sit up, your brain stuttering when you see yourself in the mirror. Bright lipstick marks dot a side of your face, from your forehead down all the way down to your jaw.
Kyle's work, no doubt, but you can't bring yourself to wipe his marks on you — a type of stigmata you'd happily wear. You don't bother with clothes, yawning as you follow the soft sound of his humming to the balcony.
You nearly swallow your tongue when you see him; wreathed in the soft morning light, his skin glowing like the golden bracelets on his arms, the pink roses blending in with his robe making him look like he's sitting on a cloud, soft feathers accentuating the robe like pearly sea foam he'd formed from. Your eyes roam from his red heels up the toned thighs, the sunlight softening the harsh scars decorating his stomach, the sheer material of the bralette both leaving nothing to the imagination and making you want to pull it off, his red lips like the red skin of an apple Eve had been tempted with.
If you were a Trojan prince, you wouldn't have looked at any goddess had Kyle been there, someone the sculptors of old times would have clamored to have as a muse.
If he told you he was a god, you'd take it as gospel, gift Kyle all your devotion just like the pearl necklace he's appraising.
"Holy hell." You mumble, scared to distract him, unwilling to pull him out of his own little world where his face isn't tense with unease and exhaustion, where his shoulders are relaxed and his instincts are blissfully sleeping, where he can just be.
But Kyle hears you, his warm brown eyes shifting to you, a bit of surprise flashing in his face before smiling. "I was wondering when you'd wake up." Kyle chuckled, a flush of heat spreading across his face at the way you look at him — eyes smoldering like coals with desire, a lovesick puppy just for him.
"You could have just woken me up if you were lonely." You hummed as you slowly approached him, brushing your fingers against his cheek. "You know I'd never say no to you."
"I know, I know." He huffs, pretty dark lashes fluttering as he pats your hand before pulling you into a kiss. You can taste wine on his lips, soft and plush against your own. He pulls back, holding up the pearls pearls. "Help me with these yeah?"
"Sure," You say, watching him shift so his back is facing you. You clip the pearl necklace around his neck easily, kissing the back of his neck just to feel him shiver. "There you go, handsome man."
"Trying to seduce me are you?" Gaz grins and quickly turns to you, pecking your forehead but pulling back when you attempt to kiss him.
"Can you blame me?" You nuzzle his neck, laying gentle kisses across his neck, your heart fluttering when he tilts his head back to give you more room. "You're absolutely gorgeous."
"Oh you," You can just about catch the way a blush darkens his face to a rich mahogany, his skin warming under your lips as you nibble on his collarbones. "charming bastard." He chuckles, holding the back of your neck as you go further down to trace the outline of his sternum with your lips.
"Just for you," Your hands rise up to cup his pecs over the bralette, lightly groping without attempting to take it off just yet. "Do you want to. . .?" You ask, rubbing your thumb over his pebbled nipple and god, if the soft silk pressing against his sensitive skin doesn't turn him on, nothing will.
"Fuck yes." Gaz whines so sweetly, holding your head close to his chest as you pull one nipple into your mouth, wetting the silk and making him shiver. You pull off to do the same to the other nipple, your hands roaming over his torse, tracing the harsh scars before going back up to push the bralette enough for you to be able to trace the top scars with your tongue. "Oh shit." He grunts as you kiss along the sensitive skin from one side of his chest to the other. "Love." He whines, embarrassed by his own eagerness, but if you don't touch him more he swears he's going to die.
You pull back and settle on your knees; Gods may be worshiped in blood and wine, but your devotion is all he needs. And you'll give it to him.
Your revenant fingers grope the muscle and fat of his thigh, slowly pulling down the pink stocking and following after it with your lips. Tracing the imprint the stocking had left at his mid thigh, pecking the bony part of his knee, kissing the small scars dotting his shin down to his ankle as you finally pull his heel and stocking off him.
Gaz swears he can feel his heart beating in his throat as he watches you repeat the process on his other leg, warmth lingering long after your lips have moved on. "Christ alive," He mumbles, the moment you peel off his remaining stocking he's spreading his legs for you, cheeks growing warm as your eyes settle on his cunt. A damp spot has grown on the feathered robe where his slick had trickled down, curly dark hair slick with his arousal, his dick starting to peek beneath it's hood. "Don't tease me now love." He whines out the last word, buzzing nerves threatening to force his thighs to close, but his need for you outweighs the embarrassment of exposing himself like this.
You're between his legs in a second, hiking his thighs on your shoulders and feeling the hard earned muscles tense around your ears. "Alright, alright." Is the last words you say before starting to really worship him, his hand brushing your hair as you press your face against his cunt.
Your tongue circling his hole and lapping up the slick dripping from it births a relieved and pleased sigh from Kyle's chest. The slow movement of your tongue exploring his pussy lips has his muscles relaxing, forcing him to recline on the bench, the railing of the balcony providing needed support as you slowly circle his hardening dick. You flatten your tongue to give his dick something to rub against, moving your tongue up and down as Kyle's hips twitch to meet your movements, lazily following after the pleasure.
You have no need to rush, listening to his pleased sighs and small little whimpers as you let him set the pace. Kyle can barely see you from how blurry his eyes are, soft sounds leaving his lips as you search out all his pleasure spots like you don't know where they are, like you're doing this for the first and last time; He has to bite his lip to give his thoughts something to latch on to lest his mind drown in the pleasure, embarrassment curling in the spaces of is belly not overtaken with heat at the thought of cumming so fast.
But you can feel how he comes closer and closer to an orgasm by the way his chest heaves, the way more slick continues to trickle from his cunt, staining your chin despite your best efforts to swallow his ichor down. His hand on the back of your hand keys you in to go faster, and without further ado you focus solely on his dick, swirling your tongue around it like it's a lollypop, dipping to lap beneath the hood.
His thighs tense like vices around your ears, threatening to crack your skull— what a wonderful death —is all your mind can think as oxygen slowly depletes, your sole objective to pleasure him. Distantly you can hear him chant your name, thighs shaking and hips twitching to grind his dick against your tongue.
Suddenly you wrap your lips around his length and suck.
His orgasm crashes over Kyle like a wave, pulling him down to drown in the depths of mind-numbing pleasure, sea foam popping in his belly as heat burns in his bones. You mouth opens to swallow all the slick gushing from his cunt and down your jaw, wet hair tickling your face as his shaking thighs clench around your head.
You don't pull away when Kyle's orgasm winds down and his thighs relax. "Sh-ah- shite!" Kyle moans when your tongue returns, feather light flicks against his pulsating walls collecting his slick like you've been in a desert for months. Your name falls from his lips, both a prayer and a curse, his thighs shaking as static dances across his nerves, his hand on his mouth trying to uselessly silence his moans as you lap up his arousal.
He finally manages to gather enough strength to pull your head back, both of you struck dumb by the other. You— by how ruined he looks, lines of mascara down his cheeks from where tears had laid a path, chest heaving and skin turned rich mahogany from ears to collarbones; Kyle — by how debauched you look, the lipstick marks he'd left earlier smudged all across your face, jaw and throat shining with his slick.
Fuck, he's aroused again.
He whimpers your name, tugging your head. "Need you." He whispers, eyes hooded.
In one smooth move you rise to your feet and pick him up, his legs and arms wrapping around you as he pulls you into a kiss, uncaring of his own taste on your tongue. You have just enough sense in your head to make your way to a laying couch close by, putting him down, your heart fluttering at how the feathered robe spreads out around him like a cloud.
"Hurry up," Kyle grumbles, a blush burning his cheeks even more as he splays his legs open for you, cunt clenching around nothing and dick hard as a rock, his arms still firmly wrapped around your neck to keep your mouths close.
You chuckle, the tip of your achingly hard cock kissing his cunt just as you do to his lips, "Breathe in and relax." You grip your dick in one hand to position yourself.
"'m not a bloody virgin." Kyle complains, his entire body so relaxed and pussy so slick that his cunt doesn't offer even a smidgeon of resistance as you push in, both of you groaning as your cock spreads his warm walls open.
"Let me treat you like one." You snort and distract any discomfort he might feel with a kiss, slowly sinking deeper and deeper until your balls rest against his ass, cock throbbing inside his clenching cunt. You stop, resting your forehead against his as you wait him to adjust.
Kyle breathes out a small grumble, "Only if you move." His leg wraps around your waist, heel digging into your back to force your hips to shift.
You grin and kiss him again, swallowing his moans when you pull back a bit and push your cock back in, his cunt greedily swallowing you back in and clenching around you like it doesn't want to let you go. But Kyle shifts his hips to meet your thrusts half way, his nails clawing scratches into your back when you start moving quicker.
"Oh, fuck- yes!- like that, just-" Kyle pants into your mouth, eyes hooded and unfocused, pleasure gnawing on his nerves as every deep thrust nails a pleasure spot inside him, the veins of your cock scrapping his sensitive walls, his slick wetting both of your pubes. He jumps the second you reach down to stroke his dick between two of your fingers, timing it to stroke down every time you bottom out inside him, the air around you filled with the scent of sex and Kyle's sweet moans and chants of your name.
"Fuck, I'm close." You warn as you increase your pace, your entire body buzzing with pleasure. "Do you want it inside?" You ask, biting your lips and trying to stave off your orgasm.
"Shite- yes, yes, yes-" Kyle throws his back as his orgasm sneaks up on him for the second time, slick warm walls clamping down on your flesh like vices as he cums. You follow suit soon after, bottoming out as you cum inside him.
You're both breathless and sweaty as you shift him around so you're not crushing him when you lay down, your head resting on his chest. Your eyes close as you listen to his breathing, and you swear you could fall asleep if his hands didn't brush your hair, scratching the back of your neck until you force your eyes open.
His smiling face greets you, soft and warm like the sun, "Thank you love." He grins, tugging you into a quick and soft kiss.
"Thank you." You hum, making him laugh a little. You lay there just enjoying the sound of the sea and the chirping birds for a bit. Then you feel him shift, grinding his hips back onto your soft cock still inside him. "Kyle?" You ask, your cock hardening slowly despite the pain of overstimulation.
"Think you can go again?" There's an impish smirk on his handsome face as he grinds his hips again, every bit a demanding god as he pulls you back into a hungry kiss, all tongue and teeth.
And you wouldn't dare refuse him. . .
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Watch the 2024 American Climate Leadership Awards for High School Students now: https://youtu.be/5C-bb9PoRLc
The recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by student climate leaders! Join Aishah-Nyeta Brown & Jerome Foster II and be inspired by student climate leaders as we recognize the High School Student finalists. Watch now to find out which student received the $25,000 grand prize and top recognition!
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