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shotmrmiller · 22 days

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simon's many things. a retired fighter, for one. he hung his mma gloves a few of years ago with the excuse of getting older. he still sticks around, though— sitting in the front, so close to the hexagonal cage that his knees can touch the steel, occasionally gesturing price over to hand him a crinkled wad of cash.

gambling's illegal, you know.

thought you were a medic not a cop, pet.

a veterinarian.

good thing we're all dogs here, then.

he's also a bit unhinged, or so price says. you had pressed your tongue against the back of your teeth to keep from asking him if the hits simon's taken to the side of the head knocked a few things loose or if he was simply born that way. you'd be thoroughly unsurprised by the latter.

seen 'em take a man out with one ferocious hit— dislocated his jaw and retired him all in one second— all over cigarettes.

what, did they guy like steal them or something?

no. the prize for the winner of their fight was that pack of smokes.

incredible. (that's insane.)

he's also unrepentantly forward and a bit of a pervert, to boot. no explanation is needed.

lemme take ya out, love—

don't call me that.

and wear a pretty dress with heels. bet you'd look real good in—

stop talking, simon.

and now, you're about to find out that he's also, apparently, magnanimous.

a friday night's hustle and bustle has come and gone, as has the crowd that was in there earlier to watch a fight. the air smells of cheap alcohol and even cheaper cologne. the lighting inside is dim, casting a dull, almost sickly glow over wooden stands and the bloodied arena. the floor, once dry concrete, was now mud-slicked; drinks, urine, and spilled blood staining the surface. betting slips stick to your sneakers as you walk. (trudge, more like.)

with your worn medical supply bag around your shoulder, you tiredly head towards price's office whose metal door is being held open by an old barstool, and gently rap your knuckles on the frame. "i'm leaving, john."

he looks up at you, soft blue eyes crinkling over his glasses as he smiles. "sounds good, love. see ya later. want me to walk you out?"

always the gentleman. "no, i'm alright. i'm sure simon's out there waiting for me any—"

the metal entrance door slams open then, causing you to jump at the startling noise. you whip your head around and a resigned groan escapes your lips. it's simon and he's got bruised company. very bruised.

there's never any rest for the wicked.

"who's that?" john calls from behind you. "he lost?"

the guy whose arm is slung around simon's shoulders looks relatively young. thick, straight eyebrows, a swollen broken nose, and thin blood-crusted lips. the last time you saw a mohawk on someone, it'd been in the early 00s.

"somewhat but it's a good thing i found 'em," simon grunts. his eyes flash over to you. "can ya patch him up f'me, love? i'll go on tha' date you've been beggin' me for."

you ignore simon as you approach them both and tip the guy's head up with your fingers under his chin. searching in your front pocket, you tell him to look at you. "open your eyes as best you can, alright?"

his eyes are like sparkling blue gems— bright like the sky on a clear summer's day. he winces at the blinding white light emitting from the flashlight. "tha' necessary, lass? ah'm not seein' double, if tha's what ye lookin' fer."

he gives a pained grunt before simon tells him to stand still. "my girl here's the medic and what she says goes. clear?"

"crystal, sir." purple bruises are blooming like dark flowers around his left eye and right cheekbone, and the blood that oozed from his split lip long coagulated. his nose, however, continues to languidly drip crimson.

"not the worst break i've seen," you mutter.

the pair shuffle behind you quietly as you head toward the dedicated medical room. the sharp, clinical scent of antiseptic wafts through the air as the door swings open.

"sit, please," you gesture to the well-worn chair in the corner.

black latex gloves squeak in protest as you slide them on. "wanna tell me what's going on, simon? i'm not gonna fix the nose of a wanted murderer, am i?"

simon chuckles under his breath. "no. unlucky bloke chose to mug the wrong person. johnny here is real good at fightin', though, for someone with no real proper trainin'. figured i could give him a way to earn his money instead of stealin' it off of hard-workin' folk."

you hum and press your thumbs as gently as you can where the nasal fracture is. johnny hisses sharply and grips your wrist tightly. "easy. i barely touched it." you quickly tap the back of his hand with your knuckles. "let go, please. last thing i need is you tensing and breaking my arm."

he slackens his fingers and sits on both of his hands. "sorry, lass. ah'd never hurt a bonnie lass like ye. say, how'd ye even end up in the bowels of the city?"

his talking re-opened the cut on his upper lip, blood streaking his teeth pink. "i'm a charity case, just like you, i reckon."

johnny means to continue the conversation, but you take advantage of his distracted mind and push to the left, the sickening crunch of cartilage follows the adjustment. he curls in on himself and lets out a guttural noise that bounces off the white walls. "i'd be sorry but..." you trail off with a casual shrug.

pulling a clean rag from a basket nearby, you order johnny to sit up straight. "look up for me." he leans his head back, adam's apple bobbing as he swallows. "hold this there," he squeezes his eyes shut when you firmly press the rag under his nose, "you'll stop bleeding soon enough."

you swivel on your stool, turning your attention to simon who's been silently watching you work by the door. "any injuries on you?"

he pulls his balaclava up, revealing a blonde stubble and scarred lips. "i got an injury right," he points at his mouth, "here tha' you can kiss—"

"stop talking, simon."

johnny's laughter emerges from behind the crimson-stained cloth.

this is the first time you've ever seen simon in the ring.

simon, even while 'retired', fights with a viciousness that borders on primal. his snarl— a ravenous wolf's— bare crooked teeth that hunger for victory, for dominance.

even when he's merely teaching johnny how to survive in this subterranean battleground.

"there's no room for mercy, soap!" he bellows. his eyes are sharp as blades, holding an edge of madness. he charges forward with fists like sledgehammers, delivering blow after punishing blow; johnny's body paying the price for his mistakes.

pain is the currency in that pit of despair, laswell had once said.

simon is a beast in human skin, ferocity incarnate...and you don't remember the last time you were this aroused by such a brute display. if this is what he looks like now, after years of being the spectator and not the spectacle, you can only imagine him in the zenith of his strength, his power.

heat licks up your cheeks at the mere thought.

he looks like he was born and bred to fight. his crib must've been the stained mat he's dancing on, his lullabies the sound of fists making contact, forcing flesh to yield. his broad back bears the weight of history— jagged flesh that stretches taut with each swing.

"fight smart! rules dissolve once tha' bell tolls, mate. many come here for glory, others come for an escape but some--" simon ducks the undisciplined punch johnny throws and gives him a ruthless jab to the ribs once then another to the side of his cut jaw.

johnny falls like a tree that's been cut at the trunk, the sound his body makes on impact with the canvas echoing in the empty basement. his breathing comes in ragged bursts, sweat and trickles of blood mingling on his face. simon kneels next to him, grunting as he goes down. "some are only here for their next meal and those are the most dangerous."

he is in his element, all bruised flesh and bloodied nose.

oh no. johnny's nose is bleeding too. "simon!" his head snaps to you when you scream, eyes wide and unfettered. "i just fixed his nose, you dolt!" his expression softens then— furrowed brows and taut lips relax.

"he'll be alrigh'. even my nose whistles when i breathe," he remarks.

simpleton. nothing but fighting and gambling in that big head of his. "that doesn't mean that it's okay to break bones i mended a few days ago." you keep your eyes fixed on johnny, ignoring the way the heat that's radiating from simon's sweat-slick body seeps into your chilled skin. "why he call you soap, anyway? good at cleaning dishes?"

he slurs a little, blood dribbling from the corner of his mouth. "'cuz ah'm a shlippery bashtard."

you bite on your tongue, hoping that his slurring is because he's still mildly dazed from the punch and not something worse.

"wha' about me, love? i've got a beaten face too, y'know." you look at him then, narrowing your eyes as you take his bare face in. the bridge of his nose is pretty swollen, and you can see the onset of bruising already happening. it's also freely dribbling blood.

"shit, let me go get my medbag."

he hooks his fingers around the loops of your jeans, keeping you in place. "'fraid of a little blood, are ya? i think you'd look real good with me on you."

a jolt of arousal shoots up your spine unbidden, blooming desire, focus wavering. your breath catches and pupils dilate as they lock with his rich, brown ones.

"oi, get a room, aye?" johnny's hoarse voice snaps you back to the present, your thunderous heartbeat ebbing away like a tide from shore.

"whenever you want, sweetheart," simon purred. the lump lodged in your throat makes it hard to respond. "get the bag 'fore i bleed out. price will have my head if i drop dead on his mat."

you blink and scramble away on shaky legs and weak knees.

#call of duty #simon ghost riley x f reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley #cod mwii #cod mw2 #simon riley x reader

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going-to-ikea-for-the-fries · 2 months

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It's a Match! || 141 x Reader

[ Chapter 9 ] || [ Chapter 11 ]

Pairing: Ghost x gn!Reader || 141 x gn!Reader Words: 1.7K~ Tags: NO SMUT, simon is a flirt, first kiss, simon has a PIERCING, simon needed to be held okay? Summary: While overcoming recent heartbreak, you decide to join Tinder in search of a rebound. Your friends advise to just Swipe Right indiscriminately... What happens when 4 soldiers from the same squad match with you? a/n: ghost HAS MADE THE MOVE.

Chapter 10: SIMON?!

You had entered the pub looking for someone who you didn’t know. Unlike with John, you didn’t even have a picture of Simon’s face to go off of.

Not that you had needed one. Going inside and scanning the room, you immediately spotted a tall, blond man with a black mask holding a tumbler of whiskey. He was leaning against a back wall by the dartboard, one foot propped up on the wall behind him.

Tall, blond, and a fan of Bourbon. Check, check and check.

You had made your way over almost immediately, being greeted with a squinting of his eyes and a dipping of his head off to the side.

“You look good.” He had said before raising a finger in the air and spinning it, beckoning you to give a little spin. Which you did.

“You don’t look so bad yourself.” You had retorted as he pulled away from the wall and guided you to the bar, one hand on your shoulder, so he could pay you for the drink, as you had so salaciously demanded on Tinder.

After that, he took you outside, to a table in the corner of the outdoor area of the pub. He parked himself on a lone armchair, legs spread and his position relaxed, spine curled ever so slightly, to make him take up less space. As if that’s somehow possible.

Then, Simon tapped his palm on his lap, beckoning you to sit, which you did without question. His hand circled around your waist, pulling your back to press against his chest.

He felt you press your ass back against his bulge, which earned you a dark rumble of a chuckle right into your ear. “Not as shy as I expected you’d be.” He had whispered.

“You’re the one who made me sit on your lap.” You had retorted as you looked back at him, only to get your head swiveled forward once more by his firm hand on your jaw.

“Eyes forward.” He had demanded. “I wanna drink in peace.” He had told you. He was bossy, but not exactly in a bad way.

“I guess that answers my question.” You had told him as you sipped from your own glass. Behind you, Simon did the same. You could hear the ice clinking against the glass as he dipped the tumbler back to sip from.

“Which one?” He had asked after a wet swallow of his drink and smacking his lips lightly.

“If you were going to wear the mask.” You had answered.

“It’s for your own benefit.” He had retorted.

“How’s that?” You had asked, daring to turn back to look at him, only to be stopped by his firm hand on your jaw, correcting your gaze away again, wordlessly.

“I’m not exactly a pretty sight under this.” He had told you. “Would rather not scare you off.”

“I’m sure it’s not that bad.” You had retorted. “And I doubt you could scare me off.” You added. “Though…” You had trailed off, thinking for a moment. “I won’t deny that if you’re like… super disfigured I might have a bit of a reaction to it at first.” You had told him sincerely.

That had earned you another rumble of a laugh behind you as he leaned in, pressing his chest a bit more against your back.

“Tell you what.” He had said softly in your ear. “I’ll let you have a glimpse soon enough, if the night ends up going the way I wish for it to.”

After a few hours getting to know each other, in which Simon kept up his promise of being honest within reason, you ended up at a McDonald’s parking lot, eating greasy food in the front seat and talking some more about all sorts of things.

You told him about your ex, about your family, about work, about your current obsessions in a certain TV show, a certain videogame, a certain actor… And he returned with his own. Who would’ve thought that this mysterious, sort of strange, guy would like Pedro Pascal?

He made you laugh, his sense of humour extremely morbid and sarcastic and his deliveries deadpan, but just smart enough to draw laughter out of you… And whenever you retorted with a smartass comment of your own, you swore you saw him smiling… Even if the mask was in the way, the corners of his eyes crinkled.

And you made sure to dutifully look away when he loosened his neck gaiter at the bottom, in order to stick fries and nuggets and his drink straw under it…

At midnight, you found yourself being dropped off at home… And just like it happened with John, you found yourself not quite wanting the night to end…

So you invited him upstairs.

It’s 5 A.M. when you find yourself waking up in his arms, stirring awake ever so slightly by his movement.

The sun is starting to rise, lighting the room ever so slightly, and making it so you can kind of see a few shadows of your furniture around the room.

Bleary-eyed and groggy, you rub your eyelids, finding Simon’s silhouette still next to you and looking at you.

“You alright?” You ask him softly, receiving a soft ‘Mhm’ in return. You pull yourself away from his arms, leaning up on one of your elbows to look at him.

“Had fun last night.” He tells you as he stretches a bit. “Should probably be heading back to base in a minute, though.”

Your bare leg rubbed lightly against his thigh which was still clad in denim, a consequence of the two of you having had some sort of… sleepover. That’s the best way of putting it.

“I’m glad. I had fun too… Weirdly enough.” You reply as you start to sit up in bed as well. “Never did think I’d end up getting… laid but… not. ‘Laid together in bed’, I guess?” You joke a bit, still too groggy to really make a joke.

“Can just call it cuddling.” He replies as he pulls the covers back a bit in order to sit up and turns on your bedside table lamp, lighting the room in a warm-toned orange-y light and casting shadows further toward the door and the hall.

He still has that neck gaiter of his on over his features, or… maybe he took it off and put it back on? You can’t be sure, you were asleep.

After coming home, you talked some more, played Mario Kart on your switch, watched a horror movie, during which he complained way too much about the realism of the blood splatter and the injuries… And then you kind of… cuddled to sleep.

“I think we both needed this.” You tell him as he nods his head. “Haven’t gotten a good cuddle in… well, ages… And you’re surprisingly comfortable.” You add.

“Definitely.” He tells you, his eyes squinting a bit again. “I… like you.” He admits.

“I… Thank you?” You reply as you sit up in bed next to him, eyebrows raised in surprise.

“That felt wrong to say aloud. Felt a little bit like a little boy in the playground.” He admits and chuckles at himself.

“Yeah… Well… I like you too.” You reply and chuckle as well at how silly it feels to say it so openly.

“Of course you do.” Simon retorts, his tone still flat and deadpan even as he spoke himself up and acted cocky.

“Oh piss off, Simon… It’s too early to deal with your shit right now.” You grumble and nudge at him with your elbow.

“Oh, c’mon… You dealt with it all night last night.” He tells you as he leans over, getting his face close to yours, the neck gaiter just softly grazing against your shoulder.

“Shut up.” You reply, a smirk on your lips. His eyes crinkle into a smile as well, which makes your smirk soften into a little smile.

You gently grab his face with his hand which makes his eyes widen and, as a reflex, he grabs your wrist and stops you from pulling down/up his untucked neck gaiter and show you his face.

This had happened a couple times last night. One of which was you trying to tuck a corner of his mask into his neck had earned you a grab from him, that only relaxed when you explained your intentions.

He’s a deeply mistrusting person, you’ve noticed… And you are strangely intrigued by it.

“Relax.” You tell him. “I’m not going to pull it off.” You assure him once more, which makes him relax.

Instead, you lean forward and press a kiss to his cheek, right on the edge where the mask meets his cheek, your lips softly brushing the stitching of the top of the gaiter.

His breath hitches and his eyes close for a moment, seemingly basking in the warmth of your little kiss.

As you pull back, his eyes snap open again and he rushes forward, grabbing your whole jaw with his large, rough hand before pulling your whole face toward him once more.

His other hand moves the gaiter up just enough to capture your mouth in his, but not enough to earn you a glimpse of his features.

His mouth is warm, his lips chapped and dry to shit, and his tongue is… Is that a piercing? Your eyes double in size when your tongue rubs against the cold metal nubs of his barbell piecing.

Simon’s eyes are open too, the corners crinkled in amusement at your shocked reaction. He keeps his grip on your jaw as your eyes slowly fall closed, giving into the kiss.

It’s completely different compared to John’s kisses, or Ethan’s back when you were together. Simon kisses like he wants to take your breath away.

After a moment, he pulls back, the neck gaiter quickly falls back down to cover his face and when your eyes open, it’s as if nothing happened. Simon is up on his feet, putting on his boots and leather jacket.

“We should do this again.” Simon tells you. “I’ll text you.” He adds and winks at you before turning and walking out of your room.

After a moment, you hear the front door of your apartment close and there you are, left sitting in bed, blinking away the shock.

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#ikea writes 💚#it's a match! fic #cod modern warfare #cod fanfic #captain john price #john soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #simon ghost riley #text story #cod x reader #call of duty x reader #simon ghost riley x reader

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minihotdog · 5 months

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Caught Red Handed // Part 1

Summary: Soap Catches His Roommate Reading an Erotic Novel

Part 2

Pairing: John "Soap" Mactavish x Fem!Reader

a/n: Most likely gonna be a follow up fic for this, already brainstorming

c/w: oral (F receiving), a little penetration

word count: 2k

***

You sat on the end of the couch curled up in a blanket, completely enthralled by the book in your hands. Your nose is buried inside the pages and you only move to readjust your glasses every once in a while.

Soap saunters into the kitchen to get some water, noticing you in a trance-like state as he reaches for a glass. He calls your name to no avail. Eventually, he gives up and plops down on the other end of the couch and your eyes rip away from the book to him. You cautiously put the book down on your lap, hoping he hadn’t caught some of the words.

“What are ye readin’ tha’ has ye blushin’ like tha’?”

“Huh?” You pretend to not know what he’s talking about and try, nonchalantly, to cover the book with your blanket. “Oh, it’s nothing. I’m just a little warm.”

He eyes you, not believing a word of what you’re saying and you try to play it off as if your soul didn’t jump out of your skin from him interrupting you while reading the most filthy paragraphs of your life.

Soap raises an eyebrow at you, a smirk appears on his face. Heat continues to rise to your face as his muscles bulge while he scratches the back of his neck. He always lounged around in a pair of gray sweats, chest exposed. You always assumed you were used to it until you were close enough to take all of him in. The Scottish flag on his left pec and a quote on his ribs you had yet to get close enough to read, and worst of all, the sheer size of him.

“Yer full o’ shite,” He accuses you playfully. “Let me see then?” The two of you stare at each other for a moment before you toss the blanket at him as a distraction and take off running. He fights off the blanket and is hot on your heels as you try to hide the book in your room.

He comes up behind you and snatches it from your hands.

“Johnny! No!” He holds the book above his head and you’re jumping up, trying to take it from him.

“Alright, alright. I’ll give it back.” You put your hand out and he turns, running into his room. You follow him only for the door to shut in your face with a click.

“Give me my book back!” You try to open the door, banging on it when it won’t budge.

“Be quiet, I’m readin’.” He shouts through the door.

You put your forehead on the door, cursing yourself for reading such a thing when you had someone like him around.

“Why’s there a big lad wearin’ a kilt on the front?”

Your eyes close and your hands cover your face. You stood there about to die of embarrassment thinking about how this couldn’t get any worse, until…

“His body was as hard as steel, forged frae generations of resistance against the soothern British armies - fuckin’ Brits -.” He murmurs the last bit before continuing. “Her hands ran ower his muscles as he slid his throbbin’ member intae her soaked…WOAH!”

“Johnny, stop!” You plea for him to stop reading. Your ears hurt at the sound of it being read out loud.

The room falls silent for a while and you call out his name once again. The quiet fuels your embarrassment. It feels like a thousand years go by before he opens the door and stands in the frame, holding the book at his waistline. He points at you with a wicked smile,

“Oh, yer a dirty, lass.” You snatch the book from him and stop towards your room.

“John Mactavish, you are so nosey!” He laughs as you shut and lock your door so you can read in peace.

***

You tip-toe out of your room, not quite ready to confront your roommate after the events earlier in the day. You poked your head into the kitchen, seeing his mohawk peaking over the other side of the half wall separating the two rooms. You quietly enter the kitchen, turning your back to him to try and open the refrigerator, hoping that the TV is loud enough to cover the sound of the door opening.

“Y/n, ye done being mad?” He taunts, resting with his forearms on the half wall, looking right at you. You stick your tongue out at him and he chuckles. He never took you seriously when you were mad at him. To piss you off, he’d often tell you that you reminded him of one of those little dogs, angry as hell and completely unaware of how small they were.

He motions to the couch, “Come watch a movie wit me.” You shake your head and he whines, “O’ c’mon, y/n.”

“Fiiiine.”

You walk over and sit on the other end of the small couch, your nerves building up in your stomach. Soap is wrapped up in your blanket. You glance over at him as you rub the fabric on your pj shorts. He scratches his scruff and his eyes slowly meet yours. He wiggles his eyebrows at you, “Wha’s wrong, lass?”

Your eyes drop, heat rising to your cheeks from being caught staring.

“Nothing.”

“Lassie, there’s nothin’ wrong wit readin’ those types o’ books.” A mischievous smirk plays on his lips, “There’s nothin’ wrong wit wantin’ a big Scotsman tae throw ye around and fuck ye silly either.”

You hide yourself with your hands, not wanting him to see the horrified look on your face. He scoots over to you, wrapping you in a bear hug.

“Oh, innocent little y/n has a dark side, I cannae believe it!”

“Nooo!” You squeal, “Stop bringing it up!”

You turn to push him away but he locks an arm on both sides of the armrest behind you, trapping you. His blue eyes bore into your soul making you squirm.

“So, tell me, Ye read tha’ because ye like it? Or did ye wish it was another Scotsman ye know?” He tilts his head, looking up as if he’s trying to remember something. “His grasp on my throat tightened as his thrusts became harder, pushin’ me over the edge… Is that what she said?” You cover his mouth with your hands and he grabs your wrists in one hand, pulling them off.

“I’ll make yer little dreams come true, just tell me ye want me.”

Your breath catches as you try to speak, “Johnny…” You’re left not knowing what to say to him. He catches you off guard, pulling you onto your back by your hips. His body forces your legs open and he rests his weight on his forearms. His lips graze your ear, “I see ye lookin’ me up and down all the time, lass.” His hand travels down your body to cup your pussy through your shorts. A wave of heat shoots through your body. “I hear ye moanin’ my name at night when ye play with yerself, now I catch ye readin’ a book about some lad wrecking a wee thing.” He pushes the hem against your clit and you grip his shoulders.

“Jus’ admit it and I’ll be more than happy to give it to ye.” His hand grabs your jaw, giving it a taunting little shake. He holds himself above you, eyes glued to your lips, whispering, “C’mon, c’mon,” encouraging you to answer.

You find the courage to speak, the fire coursing through your body is unbearable.

“Johnny, please.”

“Please, what?”

“Please, fuck me.”

“Steamin’ bloody Jesus.” He mutters before coming down to kiss you, pressing his bulge against you through his sweats. His lips move with yours, his kiss leaves you feeling hypnotized. By the time he begins pulling your shorts down, you’re seeing stars. He throws the shorts off to the side and his fingers run over the wet patch on your panties. He lets out a shaky breath, and he takes in the sight of you. Legs spread for him with your nipples poking through your oversized t-shirt. Your big doe eyes watch his every move as he positions himself lower on the couch, throwing your legs over his back.

He kisses down your thighs, nipping at the soft flesh, until he reaches where you want him most. He leaves one last kiss on your clit through the fabric before pulling it down your legs. He groans, watching you drip for him. He parts your lips with his thumbs and licks a stripe up to your clit. “Oh, lass.” He moans, tasting you on his tongue. He leaves slow licks on your clit, savoring the small sounds he’s coaxing out of you. He looks up at you from between your legs, as you squirm,

“Quit fuckin’ tryin’ to get away fra’ me.” He wraps his arms around your thighs forcing them to squeeze his head and continues lapping at your clit. He was usually impatient when he was in this position, wanting to draw out the most erotic sounds from whoever he was blessed with his tongue, to drink from them like a man stuck in the desert. Of course, he would do the same to you, but at this moment he wanted to revel in what he had fantasized about doing for so long. His beloved roommate whom he dreamed of, and spent so many nights imagining beneath him had his head in between her legs.

He closes his lips around your clit flicking it repeatedly. The attack on your sensitive nub has you arching your back. His name falls from your lips, your eyes clamp shut, one hand tangling in his overgrown mohawk and the other digging its nails into his arm.

He goes back and forth from flicking your clit quickly and leaving long licks, lapping up your wetness.

“Johnny,” You breathe out. His name being drawn out from you causes his cock to ache every single time. One of his hands rips your shirt up, exposing your breasts. He kneads the soft flesh, giving the mound a gentle slap. He moans when your hips move against his mouth.

“Oh, what a good girl.” He gives his head a shake, letting his tongue move with it. The motion has you mewling as your orgasm begins to build up.

“Johnny, p-please I’m gonna-” Your words trail off as he eats you out like you’re his last meal. His scruff scratches against your thighs leaving the skin irritated as he bobs his head, licking away. His pace doesn’t slow when you gasp and begin squeezing around nothing. Your hand keeps him in place while you ride out your high. His name fills the room in a chant. Your body jerks violently as the waves continue hitting you even longer due to him not wanting to stop.

He cleans you up, groaning at the mess you made. His mouth leaves a gentle kiss on your overly sensitive clit before he rises from his position. He wipes his chin off, his eyes cloudy just like yours.

“Fuck, lass. Yer addictin’.” His rough calloused hands run over your curves. He pulls your shirt completely off and leans down to give you a deep kiss. He trails down leaving wet kisses all over your neck. He goes further, leaving hickeys on your breasts, catching one of your perky nubs in his mouth. He then licked from between your breasts and up your neck, giving you one more kiss before pulling away to free himself from his sweats. He kicks them off and kneels in front of you completely bare. The sight of him and his body has you dripping once again. His piercing blue eyes were darker than normal, his hair a mess from you holding onto it for dear life, his muscles contracting with every movement. Your eyes run over him, admiring every part of him until you get further down.

“Oh dear god, Johnny.” You gasp. He lets go of his member and it slaps down on your stomach. He was long and thick, the head was bright red with a bead of precum threatening to fall from it. “No wonder you’re such a cocky ass.”

He laughs at your playful insult.

“We’ll see how much talkin’ yer gonna be doing in a second.”

He rubs the tip on your sensitive clit causing you to jump. He teases you by running the length of his cock in between your pussy lips, collecting the wetness. Both your eyes are glued to the pornographic scene.

“I better never catch you readin’ one of those books again, lovie.”

“Why’s t-that?”

“Because I’m a better fuck than tha’ clown you were readin’ about.”

You roll your eyes at his cockiness. In all truth, he was a little upset that you were drooling over some scot in a book when you had him right here. His competitiveness with the fictional character was enough to fuel him.

He positions his tip at your entrance, poking into you slightly.

“Alright, lass. Deep breath.”

You listen, taking a deep breath and exhaling slowly.

“Ready?” He looks down at you with a gentle smile. You nod your head and he focuses back on your dripping core. “Finally got ye where I want ye.” He mutters, shifting his weight. The fat head of his cock slides into you, your eyes go wide and your mouth falls open.

#soap cod #soap mw2 #soap mactavish #john soap mactavish #john mactavish #soap john mactavish #soap x reader #soap smut #john soap mactavish smut #john mactavish x reader #john mactavish smut #call of duty fanfic #cod fanfic #cod smut #myfic

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thebeesatemyknees · 7 months

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141 AND HOW THEY ARE WITH SOMEONE WHO THEY DISCRETELY AND SECRETLY LOVE. LIKE MAYBE NOR A HIDDEN RELATIONSHIP, BUT MORE LIKE BEST FRIENDS AND THEY LOKE READER BUT READER DOESN'T KNOW. IDKK

141 secretly in love with their friend

Word count: 2k || No warnings || Reader: gender neutral. Pronouns "you"

Simon Riley, who always chooses to sit next to you. It’s not even that he lets you sit next to him, no – he goes out of his way to sit next to you. When you’re hanging out in a pub, with him and a bunch of mutual friends (mostly the rest of 141), he lets you choose a seat while he goes to get your drinks. Once he’s back, he places your glass in front of you and tells you to budge up so he can sit next to you. Though, after a few times, it became a routine and you naturally began to make some space for him. Others also know to leave at least one seat beside you empty. If someone forgets, or isn’t privy to this unspoken rule – Simon slaps their shoulder and wordlessly points to a different chair. And so far, no one’s had the balls to tell him no.

He’s a master of dark humour and dad-jokes, and he tells them no matter what reaction he’ll get. He’s used to people rolling their eyes at his puns, but he doesn’t really care. However, with you? It's different. He closely observes your reactions, taking note of things that genuinely make you laugh and things that seem to make you uncomfortable. He catches himself yearning for your reaction, wanting to make you laugh. While in a pub with friends, he keeps telling jokes and adding sarcastic comments, but does it so quietly that only you can hear them. And when he manages to make you laugh, he has a hard time hiding the proud look on his face.

He gives you the “scary dog privilege” and goes out of his way to make it obvious that you’re under his protection. He’s not possessive nor aggressive towards others, but he can stand his ground and you’d have to be absolutely crazy to willingly get on his bad side. So whenever he’s home, he comes with you to all the places you frequent and makes sure all the regulars see that you’ve got a big, scary-looking man at home. They don’t have to know you’re just friends. Honestly, he’d like everyone to think that you’re together. That would keep all the wrong people, all the creeps away from you – that’s what he tells you after not correcting a stranger who commented on you being a cute couple. He then watches your reaction closely, wanting to figure out how you feel about the idea of being together. Whether he has a chance, or should he back off.

If you playfully flirt with him, he smugly reciprocates. As much as he likes puns, he doesn’t use pickup lines, but his witty, flirtatious comments are enough to make your face feel all hot. And he always tells them in the most deadpan manner possible, while looking at you with a half-lidded, almost lazy, look in his eyes. And he doesn’t look away, wanting to see your reaction. To see the smallest twitch of a smile in the corner of your lips. To see you roll your eyes at him or turn away with a blush creeping on your face. He wants to see if you meant it. If you’re willing to take it further.

John Price, who does a bunch of domestic things with you and for you. He makes your friendship feel as if you’ve been happily married for the past 20 years. He rarely goes back to his own flat, most of the time staying at yours. It started with him popping by for a cuppa or to fix something. Now, however, you go grocery shopping together, he has his own drawer in your wardrobe, you have movie nights that you don’t even have to invite him to. You don’t actually live together, he sometimes stays at his place to keep the sense of normalcy. But then you wake up and find him in your kitchen, sleepily drinking a cup of coffee after letting himself in with the spare key you gave him. Fresh bread lying on the counter next to him, as he scrolls through news on his phone. He greets you and stands up to start preparing breakfast for both of you.

He lets you borrow his clothes. Though, that’s a bit of an understatement. He wants you to wear his clothes. That’s why he started to “accidentally” leave his jumpers and shirts at your place. Once you officially let him have a drawer in your wardrobe, he brings all of his best, most comfortable jumpers, even going as far as spraying them with his cologne, in hopes that you'll find comfort in them while he's deployed. He also keeps an extra jacket in his car, though he only offers it to you if he’s not wearing one himself. He won’t admit it, not even in front of himself, but giving you the jacket he’s been wearing ignites a warm feeling inside his chest.

If you playfully flirt with him, he doesn’t flirt back, suddenly getting more serious instead. He might laugh quietly, but sometimes he looks downright annoyed with your teasing. At least that’s what you think. In reality he’s just worried, overthinking the situation while a sombre feeling sets in the pit of his stomach. He feels like he’s betraying you. Here you are, feeling comfortable and safe enough to joke with him like this, while the only thing he can think of is to make you his.

Kyle Garrick, who takes you out as often as possible. He organises lots of platonic (please end his misery) dates. If either of you wants to check out a new place or simply go to your regular spots, he immediately calls you. Cafes, arcades, shops, parks, galleries, bookshops. At some point, it might make you think that he doesn’t have that many friends, but no. He just chooses to spend time with you over anyone else. While eating out, you often get into arguments over who’s gonna pay the bill. He jokingly tells you that he needs someone to spend the “military money” on, but he really just wants to see you enjoy yourself properly without worrying about the expenses. To see you, being taken care of. And he’d be so damn happy to be the one to do that.

He’s also very attentive to your likes and dislikes. While walking through shopping centres, he takes note of things you seem to want but end up putting back on the shelf. That being said, he’s the best gift giver. And it’s not just expensive gifts. Honestly, he rarely gets you pricey things, worrying that it might overwhelm you. But he doesn’t stop himself from getting you knick knacks, your favourite snacks, or even simply picking some flowers for you when you go on hikes.

While deployed, he sends you short letters, sometimes adding some local sweets as well. He knows it would be much simpler to just text you or call you, which he does, but he believes that handwritten letters are more meaningful. The first time he tells you that, you roll your eyes at him. He then asks, pretending to be deeply offended, if he should stop sending them since you dislike them so much. No matter your response, he’d be sending them anyway. And if he ever finds out that you kept all of his letters tucked away safely in a box somewhere in your room, he will have a hard time hiding the tears welling up in his eyes.

If you playfully flirt with him, his brain short-circuits. The best he can do is huff a laugh quietly and reply with a simple “alright” as he looks away from you, trying to play it cool. He doesn’t flirt back, simply because he can’t. His face gets all hot, sweat suddenly coating his palms. Did you mean it? Are you teasing him? Did you finally find out about his feelings towards you? His heart is just as frantic as his thoughts. He shakes his head and tries to casually change the topic, which only makes him look more suspicious. You, oblivious to his internal torment, probably interpret his reaction as discomfort, which makes you step back and avoid flirting with him again. This, in turn, leads him to even more panic, worrying that he’s lost his chance, as he tries to bring your conversations back on the more flirtatious track.

[Sorry to my Scottish readers, you might feel a bit excluded here. Anyway, Johnny still takes you on a fun road trip!]

Johnny MacTavish, who takes you on spontaneous road trips. If you’re not from Scotland, he takes you there to show you his hometown and places he used to go to with his family when he was a kid. He picks you up and drives north but takes an indirect route, stopping at different locations that interest you. You get stuffed with snacks that he prepared for the road and lose both your voice and your hearing from how loudly both of you sing. Throughout the whole trip, he discreetly takes care of you, casually opening the car door for you, making stops so you can stretch your legs, making sure you’re not getting cold. And so, instead of getting to your destination in seven-ish hours, the trip itself takes you two days. You stop midway and find a decent room in a small inn, ending up sharing it together. He keeps his distance, but he has a hard time stopping his eyes from lingering, finding great pleasure in looking at you getting comfortable and ready for bed. His voice gets low and calm while you talk, letting the late hour lead your conversation towards more meaningful, intimate territory. Next day, once you get to his childhood home, he introduces you to his family, and at some point you catch his mum giving him a strange look. When you ask, he tells you he doesn’t know what you’re talking about. However, what you don’t notice is that he turns away while saying it, trying to hide his reddening face from you. You might be oblivious to his feelings, but his mother figured out that her son is head over heels for you the moment you walked into their house.

He tries to teach you some Scottish phrases. You don’t really use them, worried that it would sound strange next to your regular, very not-Scottish accent. But then one day it slips out of your mouth. Maybe you got annoyed with him, which wouldn’t be surprising considering how often he teases you. The moment the words leave your mouth, a wide grin spreads across his face. He cheers like a lunatic, picking you up and twirling around with you in his arms. [And let me make myself absolutely clear – even if you’re a bigger person – you’re in the air. All you can do is dangle your legs above the ground and hold onto him for your dear life. His muscles are for practical purposes, not just visual.]

If you playfully flirt with him, he shamelessly flirts back. With one simple comment, you unleash absolute chaos upon yourself. Hopefully you’ve got more pickup lines up your sleeve, cuz you’ll really need them. To this point, he was keeping himself in check, making sure not to overstep any boundaries. But once you flirt with him, it’s a green light, game on – he’s not stopping anytime soon. He’s a very open flirt too. He’ll use the most cheesy pickup lines on you, a wide smile permanently fixed on his face. Seeing him wiggle his eyebrows at you doesn’t even surprise you anymore. He’s also a rather physical person, so you’ll have to get used to him leaning in and playfully bumping your shoulders or knees together, or constantly resting his arm around the back of your chair.

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bagofshinyrocks · 4 months

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Period Comfort

Prompt: How the boys act when their S/O is on their period. [Requested by @weebumochi]

Featuring: TF141 and Los Vaqueros - John Price, Simon "Ghost" Riley, Kyle "Gaz" Garrick, Johnny "Soap" MacTavish, Alejandro Vargas, and Rodolfo "Rudy" Parra (separately) x GN!Reader

Word Count: 1.2k

Warnings: reader menstruates, but no mention of genitalia; menstruation discomfort; nothing else i can think of, but lemme know if there's more

John Price

Always gets you water and a fresh cup of tea once your cups looks a little low.

Finds out what meals are best for someone on their period and focuses on making those for the week.

You two would make food with beef, eggs, and fish (if you eat them); spinach, squash, and brussel sprouts. All the nutritious stuff.

And then he would make treats for you, especially dark chocolate on almonds or walnuts. Bring you bananas, berries, figs. You felt like ancient Mesopotamian royalty. All things that were also good for you, but were more traditional period comfort food of “sweet”.

If you really needed to eat half a family sized bag of barbeque potato chips, he would fetch them and put them in a bowl for you. No questions asked. No movement in the eyebrows. A loving smile as he asks what movie you two were going to watch.

But for dinner, he’s making something without so much… sodium.

Does everything he can to make your period easier on you.

Simon Riley

Doesn’t tell you that he knows you’re on your period, but that shit is on the calendar. Doesn’t want to make you feel like he’s all “oh is it that time of the month?”. So he pretends nothing is different.

He’s always so sweet to you, but he’s especially so when you’re on your period.

There are absolutely no gibes or pokes at the tender part of your heart. And whenever you’re most hormonal (which is also on the calendar), he might not tease you at all. Because one time he was a little snarky with you, and normally it would roll right off, but you were just a teensy bit too hormonal. And you got quiet. And your lip quivered. And he didn’t stop apologizing the whole day.

Any shows or movies he normally sighs about (but still sits down and watches… and gets invested in, the lying shit), there is no fussing.

“Alright, lovie, sounds good. Do you want another cuppa while I’m up?”

Need some quiet time by yourself? He has some errands to run, let him know what you want for dinner.

Just does his best to make sure you never feel crazy when you’re on your period.

Kyle Garrick

When the worst of your period comes in, it becomes the typical night in.

The dumbest movies that you two love. Dessert eaten before dinner. Favorite takeout and all the accoutrement available. A glass of wine or some other treat beverage. Matching pajama sets.

Kyle had almost fallen asleep when you massaged a yummy-smelling hair mask into his scalp, and then pulled a ‘oh I was just resting my eyes’. And then he returned the favor, painting a luxurious facial mask on you. Making hearts on your cheeks, then spreading them out. You were fairly sure he drew boobs on your forehead, but then smeared it out and insisted you were just imagining it.

You give each other manicures, and hand feed the other food whilst their nails dried. Kissing chocolate and strawberries off each others lips and chins.

Once his hair was wrapped up, he’s all snuggled up in your arms. The heat and weight of his body against your abdomen was soothing. And the gentle snoring of the love of your life.

Everything he can to make you feel comfortable and attractive in your own skin.

Johnny MacTavish

He gets up at the ass crack of dawn to go for a run (like a fucking psycho). Once you wake up, he wants to go to the gym with you. Whether or not you work out, or just poke his butt because it’s funny, he wants you there. But not today. Your cramps, or just the general yuckiness of menstruating, makes you want to not leave the house.

So he hops on the internet, and finds the workouts, stretches, and yoga poses that would help you feel better.

The most gentle workout he’s had in his life. Stretching with the speed of tai chi, leaning against your back and chatting quietly.

Kisses wherever he can reach as you two figure out the yoga poses. Sticks his ass out as far as he can so you’ll poke it. Whistles whenever you begin a pose that’s even marginally suggestive. Waggles his eyebrows and maybe even cops a feel.

Double checks that you aren’t overexerting yourself. Stops for water (and kiss) breaks and asks how you’re feeling. What’s helping, what’s not helping? Time to stop, or keep going?

Helping with the physical and visceral symptoms so you’re more comfortable.

Alejandro Vargas

If he can, he’s clearing the schedule for the worst day of the week. Does grocery shopping and laundry before, so there is essentially nothing to do that day when Mother Nature is curb-stomping you.

Spoils you with a long lie-in. The sun has long since come up by the time you wake up to massages and kisses.

You join him for breakfast and a quick rinse off shower, and then you two crawl right back into bed. Leaning against him as he kneads the skin and muscles of your abdomen or back, a movie or the radio as ambient noise.

Maybe you fall back asleep. Maybe you watch an entire TV show. Maybe you putter about and do some light home-making. The goal is that you are fully rested.

I bet science says that you can’t “catch up on sleep”, but it’s still nice to have a day where you sleep for most of it. Especially when it’s curled up in bed with your sweet lover. His hands on you for the entire day, closely followed by his lips.

His whole body squeezing you tight when you try to leave, and wrapping around you again once you return.

Just physically reminding you of how much he loves you.

Rodolfo Parra

Once he sees a menstrual product wrapper in the bathroom trash can, he’s off to make the most professional grocery run you’ve ever seen.

Knows exactly which products you use, and checks which are low. Buys the right medications or products. The snacks that you love (that won’t betray you later with a stomach ache), and the little drink treat that’s for special occasions.

You swear that he hears the crinkle of a wrapper in the bathroom and marches to the store.

Puts the groceries away while you’re finishing up the breakfast dishes and then offers you the little beverage and maybe a treat.

He guides you to the couch or back to bed, sidling up next to or behind you and kisses you deeply. Arms roaming and then settling in a way that keeps you as close as possible. Pressing against you as if you could become one.

Cuddles in the way that is most comfortable, whether you’re in his lap or laying down. Kisses you all over. Hand feeds you until you’re giggling too hard.

He never wants you to run out of the supplies you need, or feel any less sexy while menstruating. Because you are always so sexy to him.

Posted: 2024 January 7

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dante-mightdie · 3 days

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MORE ANGST.

Like, okay, more angst for reader, but I need some angst for 141. Like PLEASE.

So, the reader, frustrated (mentally and physically), decides to take things onto their own hands. If they treat them as if they don't exist, so will they. It starts simple. They don't greet them good morning and goodbye anymore, when the team would only offer a grunt or nod of acknowledgment. Reader doesn't ask them to hang out, or to join into their plans. They start living for themselves, not quite leaving them, more like treating the four men like roommates. Whenever one would initiate intimacy, reader would slip away, offering some lame excuse. At the same time, just an hour later, they'd see a glimpse of reader, all dressed up and pretty, not bothering to let them know where they'd be going as they run out the front door, only to be heared from a couple of hours later. Stumbling through the front door with a second pair of footsteps following suit, and a hearty male laugh. The apartment was as much reader's as it was the boys' so it should be normal they brought someone home ... but was this what the task force 141 though?

changed it ever so slightly but I love this yes

c/w: poly!141, mentions of emotional neglect, alcohol, intoxication

you got the idea after scrolling through social media, rotting away in bed had become a common routine for you. an advertisement had popped up for a bar that opened up a few months ago, you remember asking johnny and kyle to go with you but they were too busy at the time

it looked like a nice enough place. not like the dive bars in camden that simon takes you to, or those annoying ass scotch bars in canary wharf that john insists on ‘introducing’ you to. as if you’ve never had a glass of scotch before. the memory makes you scoff to yourself

surprisingly, it doesn’t take much to convince yourself to just… go. if they won’t go with you, there’s no reason why you can’t convince yourself. they were too busy ignoring you to notice you’d be gone anyway. so, you drag yourself out of bed and rifle through the wardrobe for something to wear

looking good really does make you feel good, you say to yourself when you catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror once you were ready. you’d decided on a fitted black dress with a pair of black strapped heels. they wouldn’t notice but you added a bit of detail to the outfit

if they did notice that every piece of jewellery was a piece they had bought for you, it would fucking burn. the diamond skull-shaped studs that simon got you, the vintage locket that john had found for you when he was deployed, and the anklet that kyle had grabbed from some fancy jewellery store on oxford street paired with the stunning ring that johnny found at a local market in scotland

you took a deep breath and held your head high before grabbing your purse. when you entered the front room, all conversation stopped as usual. but only because they were too busy eyeing you up and down, “where’re you goin’ dressed like that?”

you roll your eyes when john speaks up, not even stopping to respond. a curt ‘out’ leaving your lips as you walk out the front door and slam it loudly. the boys all looked at each other, shifting in their seats uncomfortably at the interaction

john narrowed his eyes as he glared at the front door. he didn’t like not knowing where you were. even if you didn’t know it, john always knew about your whereabouts

the bar was nice, nice enough for you to drink your feelings away in. in your head, you imagined flirting with anyone just to make the boys jealous. but every time someone approached you, it just filled you with more sadness. perhaps a part of you just wanted the boys to grab you, persuade you to stay with sweet words and gentle kisses like they used to do when you looked this good

it was a few hours past midnight when you finally returned, simon awakened by the sounds of giggling outside and your keys jangling in the door. he didn’t plan on getting out of bed until he heard a male voice speaking along side yours

he stalked down the stairs, following the sounds of your heels stumbling until he found you in the front room. you were drunk out of your fucking mind with some random bloke holding you up. simon’s fists clenched at his side and he decided to make his presence known

“better take your hand off her before you fuckin’ lose it, mate.” he spits, taking a step closer to yank you from the man’s grip. you squeak and stumble from the harsh tug, landing right against simon’s bulky frame as he holds on to your arm to keep you steady

the man takes a step back, holding his hands up in surrender. “woah, i’m not here to cause any trouble. was just making sure she got home safe. my colleague over served her and she said her roommates were too busy to pick her up.”

simon clenches his jaw, keeping his gaze on the man and just waiting for him to step out of line. he doesn’t even notice that the others have climbed out of bed too, coming downstairs to hear what the commotion is about

he turns his head only to shove you into price’s arms, squaring his shoulders as he stares the bartender down. “well, our girl is home and safe now so you best be on your way.”

“relax, mate. she’s really not my type. that one there is more my type.” the bartender chuckles, nodding his head towards soap before turning around and walking out the door but not before giving you a goodbye

price steadies your body against him, already getting an idea of the kind of drunken state that you’re in. he lifts your basically limp body into his arms before carrying you up to bed but he doesn’t take you to the spare room. he takes you to what you have recently come to know as their room

“had a bit too much, princess?” he chuckles, placing you down on the bed. you look at him confused before letting your head fall to the pillow

“‘m still your princess?” you mumble into the fabric. price frowns slightly, turning his head to look at the boys before making work on taking your heels off

“course. you always have been.” he mumbles. you respond with a small hum before completely passing out against the sheets…

#mw2 #cod mw2 #simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon riley x reader #captain john price #john price #john price x reader #ghost x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #kyle garrick x reader #kyle gaz garrick #kyle garrick #john soap mctavish x reader #soap mactavish #soap mactavish x reader #soap x reader

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lovifie · 1 month

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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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thebibliosphere · 4 months

Note

I just read a post quoting Steven Moffat saying Sherlock couldn’t be asexual because there’d be “no fun in that”. I was wondering why Somerton’s “only the boring gays survived AIDS” sounded familiar. I remember how you talked about Moffat on the Ayesphere and was curious if you had any thoughts on this? The idea that people need to be ‘exciting’ always left a bad taste in my mouth.

From what limited interaction I’ve had with the man -- which included him making inappropriate comments about my underage bridesmaids who just happened to be wearing TARDIS blue dresses -- I think Moffat is a mediocre writer who draws almost exclusively from his own experiences, which are far more limited and not so nearly clever and worldly as he thinks.

He also completely misunderstands and mischaracterizes the characters of Sherlock Holmes and John Watson as pertains to the original source material, so anything he says about Sherlock Holmes needing to fuck to be exciting can be dismissed not only with a grain of salt but chucked full heartedly out the window.

You can create “exciting” stories that aren’t about fucking. To claim otherwise is to show your hand, not only in terms of your lack of skill as a writer but also in terms of your own emotional depth.

Yes, sex is essential for some people. It is a driving factor of their existence. It's a fairly large part of mine. But if you cannot grasp the need as a storyteller to examine the emotional and psychological aspects of sexuality beyond “person pretty, want smash” and belittle other people for wanting to explore other types of intimacy or exploration, you’re just a bit shit, both as a writer and a person.

There is more to life and human intimacy than sex. And I say that as the walking, talking stereotype of the greedy polyam bisexual kinkster constantly being driven to distraction by pretty people.

Like, c’mon, ace Sherlock Holmes using sex like trapping someone under a glass to get a better look at them is practically canon in Moffat’s own interpretation of him. He’s just so mad that the character could be read as anything other than heterosexual and meanly-clever like him to realize it.

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tojisun · 6 months

Note

currently obsessed with biker!simon!!!! how do you think he and reader met? i think, whatever the situation was, he was the one that couldn't get his eyes off her and started to bluntly stare??? maybe soap was with him and laughed bc he had never saw him get this serious about any girl he had laid his eyes on 😫😫😫😫

BAE I WENT FERAL WHEN I READ THIS BECAUSE YEAH!!! YEAH

ok so this is gonna be ridiculous but bear with me because im actually so obsessed with biker!simon im unwell

simon prefers using his bike whenever he’s out with his friends. there’s no use taking his car, anyway. not with kyle hitching a ride with john, and johnny taking his own car on the few occasions that he does bring someone home with him.

simon’s never had to take those things into account because he preferred a quiet end to his nights, anyway. just a shot of bourbon and a short dinner with his friends, and then he’s back on the road and on his way home.

so he’s never had regrets with taking his bike. until today, of course.

he’s noticed you since you walked into the bar with your friends, your arm hooked around one of them and your head tilted to hear them better. the others who are not engaged in a discussion with you whipped their heads around to find an empty booth and simon almost crushed his glass at the way his heart leapt when he realized that the closest empty booth in the place was the one directly beside his group’s.

simon watched as your group moved closer, the chatter finally piercing his ears and, unconsciously, his body turned to hear you better. from in front of him, johnny’s pinched lips finally wobbled as he wheezed out a laugh, breaking simon’s focus.

“what?” simon barked out, feeling warmth creep up from his neck to his ears, half of his mind focused on the group settling behind him.

“holy shit,” johnny said mid-laughter. “you don’t know anythin’ about subtlety.”

simon grumbled then, in denial, but now he just fully stopped caring.

somehow, as the night progressed, simon gravitated towards the seat facing yours, a spot where he had a clear vantage view of you. he’s taken advantage of the change in seating, devouring the sight you make as you giggled with your friends. devouring the change in atmosphere, now that you’ve begun to return his heated looks.

it started with curious looks, born from your friend whispering to you how simon was staring; how, throughout the night, he did not entertain all those who went up beside him and focused only on you. then your gaze shifted into something scalding. something that sent liquid fire warming simon from the pit of his stomach to the back of his spine.

mactavish sighs beside him. “just buy the lass a drink already.”

simon peels his eyes away from you to look at johnny, mulling over the suggestion before grunting out a thanks. he stands up and walks to the bar, calling out to get the bartender’s attention.

remembering the bellini that you’ve been nursing since you got here, simon asks for another flute of the cocktail and requests that it be served to you. he turns when he says this, hoping to give the bartender a clear view of who the bellini is for only to blink in surprise when he sees you standing just a few feet away from him.

“sir?” the man behind the counter asks.

“sorry. just serve it here,” simon replies, his eyes still on you. there is shuffling behind him, the bartender probably leaving to whip up his order, but simon honestly doesn’t care anymore.

not when you finally shuffle close, a shy smile dancing on your lips.

“hello,” you greet, voice a hesitant whisper, and simon feels like he’s been gutted.

you’re so goddamn beautiful, it’s catastrophic.

simon thinks of how short you are, something he’s first noticed the moment you walked into the bar. it’s not like he’s surprised by the realization given that he tends to tower over anyone ever since he hit his growth spurt, but there is something unfurling in the pit of his stomach as he realizes how perfectly you fit in his arms. how easy it would be to just tuck you underneath his chin and slot himself around you.

“hey,” he finally replies, his eyes roving along your features, trying to memorize the shimmer of your lips. the long wisps of your lashes. “‘m simon.”

you giggle, introducing yourself shyly, and the sound of your laughter tickles his ears, making him weak to his knees. he mouths your name, testing it out for himself and preening when it rolls off his tongue with ease. like your name is something simon is supposed to always call.

his new favourite word.

“sorry,” you say, lifting your hand like you want to reach out and touch him, only for you to snuff out the action in your anxiousness. “i don’t, uh, come up to people i find attractive so this is really making me nervous.”

simon is aware of how good he looks – he’s proud of it even – but there is something about a pretty darling like you admitting how his looks make you nervous that sparks the desire in him to transform into something more carnal.

something more visceral.

he reaches his hand out toward you, inviting you to finally close the remaining distance between you two, and smiles when you take the offer, placing your hand on top of his palm, sending goosebumps to rise across his skin. you step into his space and simon has to stop himself from breathing you in, afraid how he’ll end up reacting when he’s taken a whiff of your intoxicating scent.

“i’ve ordered you a drink,” simon whispers, his voice a hoarse croak.

“oh,” you mumble. “thank you...”

he notes the hesitation in your words, the bubble in his chest popping as his worry extinguishes his burning desire. “you don’t have to drink it.”

“no!”

he startles at your reaction, his wide eyes staring back at your equally shocked ones.

it takes a heartbeat before the two of you are breaking off into choked laughter, your body angled to muffle your giggles on the sleeves of his sweater. simon’s heart clenches at the cute display and he curls his arms around you, pulling you close until your head is pressed on his chest.

he wonders if you can hear how fast his heart is beating.

it takes a while for the laughter to fizzle out, leaving you putty in his arms, your chin digging into his chest as you gaze up at him. simon eagerly returns your stare, his lips stretched into the softest of smiles now that he has you in his arms. he brushes your hair away from your face, warmth exploding in his chest at your happy little sigh.

“wanna leave this place with you,” you tell him and simon trembles with need.

because he wants you to come home with him too. wants to show you how a sweetheart like you deserves to be treated. how you deserve to be cherished and pampered and revered.

then, he remembers his goddamn harley.

fuck.

wait. now that he thinks about it-

“is there something wrong?” you ask, face creasing in worry at seeing his frown.

“don’t worry about it, sweetheart,” simon replies, his mind already mapping out the roads to his place. “lemme just grab my keys while you drink up, yeah?”

you nod softly, eyes fluttering close when simon leans forward to press his lips on the top of your head, before stepping away from your warmth. he watches the way you ambled towards the bar counter, carefully picking up your new flute of bellini before turning to show him that adorable little smile that simon’s starting to be addicted to and taking a small sip of your cocktail.

the wrap of your pretty lips around the straw shouldn’t stir something so carnal in him but it does and simon gulps, well aware of the sudden thirst that sucked the moisture from his throat, before turning to march towards his table.

johnny whistles out loud when simon reaches them, tipping his new glass of beer and whooping even when kyle growls how he’s being too loud. simon would’ve sided with garrick, but his patience is running thin and the need that is raging within him is gaining strength so he ignores them both to stand beside johnny.

“keys.”

“what?”

“mactavish, give me your keys.”

“...why?”

simon holds in a sigh as he watches kyle reach over to smack johnny on the back of his head. “what the hell do you think?”

john continues to ignore the group, his eyes trained somewhere on the dance floor. traitor, simon thinks.

“oh,” johnny whispers. “oh!”

he tries not to tap his foot as johnny grapples with his trousers, hitting his elbows on the edge of the table and angrily cursing in scottish, before finally fishing them out of the depths of his pockets and presenting them to simon. simon takes them with urgency, almost ripping them from johnny’s fingers, before throwing the keys of his harley to johnny and barking out his thanks.

“use protection!” johnny screams because of course he would. he’s a fucking bastard.

simon flips him off as he marches back towards you.

you look up at hearing him call your name, your beautiful face glowing as you smile at him again.

god, he’ll never tire of seeing your pretty smile.

“ready?” he asks, masking the excitable tremble of his voice with a quick cough.

“mhmm!” you reply, putting down your half-empty cocktail and clambering beside simon’s side. he presses another kiss on the top of your head, this time no longer holding back as he breathes you in, and leads you out towards johnny’s car.

next time, he’ll take you out for a bike ride.

because simon promises that there will be a next time.

starting to think if i might need a masterlist for biker!simon atp // edit: mlist!

#suns.f #biker!simon #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley x female reader #simon ghost riley #ghost cod #ask #dragonstoneshortcake #suns

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gglitch1dd · 30 days

Text

Well... aren't you a pretty doll?

Army soldier Midoriya Izuku x Secretary Reader

Context: You accidentally spill your soda on a man and he's smitten right away.

Note: Just a fluffy meet-cute. Set in the 1950s.

[PART 2]

“Well you know what they say, Midoriya, you can’t drop your eggs and cry about it too.” Iida commented as the group of men sat down in the diner. It was late in the evenings when the group of them had decided to sit down and share a meal before going back to their own barracks.

Bakugou shook his head with a tsk. “Yoshida had no right to tell me to do all those drills when I wasn’t even the one talkin’.” He stated with a clear dislike for their leading Colonel. He scowled as he sipped on his cola. “Next time I see the fucker, I’ll knock him right in the jaw.”

“Well I seriously doubt that, Kacchan.” Midoriya stated with a laugh as he leaned back in his seat. He had his jacket off, allowing him to lean back freely in the cushioned boof chair. He couldn’t deny that he enjoyed being off the clock, having time out with his friends made life all the more marrier.

Kirishima chuckled. “Not with the way Colonel was staring him down, he aint.” The large man motioned to the blond making him roll his eyes.

Midoriya shook his head as he stood up out of the boof. “Heading to the john, I’ll be right-”

Suddenly he was knocked right in the chest making him take a step back and grabbing whoever it was who fell into his arms. A glass of cola toppled on the tray and landed right on his shirt, trickling down his front. “Oh dear me! I’m so sorry, sir.” A hurried voice came out of the woman who stood in his arms. She shook her head furiously. “I tripped over someone’s foot and-”

Suddenly the most beautiful eyes were staring up at him. Your eyes. Midoriya paused as he looked down at you, his eyes wide at the sight of the most beautiful woman he had ever seen in his life. You were dressed in a pretty little pencil skirt and a button down short shirt. You looked so put together and pristine and it honestly almost made the man blush.

He stared down at you with wide stricken green eyes, the most beautiful you had ever seen in your life. His hair was slicked back and combed to perfection, typical of army regulation and he wore long pants and a button down as well. You could tell he was a soldier as were most men in the diner here in this army town.

“My, my, my…” His voice let out in disbelief as he stared down at you. “Aren’t you a pretty little doll?” He said more to himself than to you, his eyes looking over your form as you stood still against him.

You perked up at the compliment, feeling your face burn. You took a step back away from him. “I’m so sorry.” You bowed at the waist to him. “I hope you can forgive me.”

Midoriya smiled. “There’s no harm done. A little wet but my pride wasn’t bruised.” He assured you. “What’s a pretty little thing like you doing in a place like this?” He asked you referencing to the diner.

You looked down with a blush letting out a soft laugh. “Well, sir I work here.”

“In the diner?” He asked shocked. He looked over your outfit once more, noticing your pretty heels. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen such a formal waitress.”

You laughed at the mistake. “No, I work in town. I’m a secretary. I am here with my friends.” You told him, motioning to a group of women nearby at a boof who were spying on you but quickly looked away at the sight of Midoriya’s eyes on them.

He scoffed before turning to look down at you. “You’re a secretary?”

You nodded your head dutifully, a customary bow of the head showing that you were trained well in your job especially when it came to interacting with army men. You tilted your head. “Why do you ask? Is it so surprising? You wanted me to be something else?”

“Well no. On the contrary, I think a smart woman like yourself that can handle a job is stronger than you lead on.” His words surprised you, making your eyebrows raise. Of course you would likely never get a job like any of the men could but you were glad with what you had. He smiled down at you. “It’s an honour to make your acquaintance, ma’am.” He bowed at the waist. “I am Corporal Midoriya Izuku.” He introduced himself.

Your eyes widened at the ranking. You looked at him rather impressed before chuckling. “Well Corporal, thank you for your understanding. If there is any way I could repay you…”

Midoriya straightened up, putting his hands in his pockets. “How about you allow me to take you out dancing?” He asked with an eased smile. “On Friday. Me and the guys are heading to the pub.”

You glanced at his group of friends who all were quietly watching the exchange as well. You chuckled and turned around, “How could I say no to that?” You asked rhetorically as you took your semi-empty cup back to your table.

“Wait. What’s your name, doll?” He asked

You turned back to look at him and he was sure you had captured his heart right then and there. With your body perfectly highlighted by your uniform and your eyes locked on him, he could have drowned in your eyes. “L/N Y/N.” You revealed to him.

“Well I’ll see you on Friday, Miss L/N.” He nodded his head to you. You nodded your head with a barely contained smile as you scurried away from him.

He watched you for a moment, wondering why he had never seen you at headquarters before and which lucky man had you working for him. He of course, was not yet paid enough to know everything about everyone, but he made sure that he did. If he wanted to rise up the ranks he had to impress people, but he had never been so spun before.

He turned to look at the guys with a surprised look.

Sato let out a laugh as he leaned back, a toothpick in his mouth. “Look at you, Casanova.” He motioned to Izuku. “You got yourself a little miss.”

He shook his head with a chuckle. “Oh no… not yet.”

-Glitch1d

#izuku x reader #izuku midoriya x reader #midoriya izuku #izuku midoriya #deku #deku x reader #izuku fluff #izuku midoriya fluff #mha izuku #mha x y/n #bnha #midoriya x reader #midoriya x reader fluff #deku fluff #deku x reader fluff

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mrsbarnesblog · 6 months

Text

you deserve the world

masterlist ko-fi ao3

College! Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: You were in a relationship with a man who had never truly cared about you, but after catching him cheating on you at a friend's party, you eventually decided to end things with him. The good news was that there was always someone who wasn't going to let you go through it alone.

Word count: 4.6k

Warnings: toxic relationship, cheating, name calling, gaslighting, protective Bucky, feelings.

Author's note: college Bucky + some angst = my favorite combo. I already have a cute idea for the part 2 so stay tuned ☺️

“And what about you, ma'am?” The waitress asked, looking at you.

“Um–”

“She’ll get a salad and a glass of water, thank you.” John interrupted you, not allowing you to choose for yourself. Everyone at the table went quiet, looking at you, and you felt the heat spreading on your cheeks. There was nothing new in the fact that John always decided for you, but no one from your friend really knew about that.

You quickly nodded at the waitress with a polite smile and gave the menu back. When she left, you really hoped that this question wouldn't be discussed, but you were wrong.

“What the fuck? You said that you were hungry. Why do you even listen to him?” Natasha, who was sitting on the opposite side of the table with Bucky, Steve, and Wanda, angrily looked at you.

She was really protective over you, and she hated John. Natasha tried to convince you many times to break up with him, but every time you tried, he somehow managed to manipulate you to stay. And you hated yourself for being so weak.

“Natasha, please, don't start it.” You begged, feeling that John was losing his temper. “I'm not hungry, I'm—”

“She’s on a diet, right, baby?” His fake smile made you almost want to cry, but you just nodded. Nat and Wanda rolled their eyes, not for the first time hearing that from your shitty boyfriend. Steve and Sam looked mostly disappointed or even concerned, but Bucky… Bucky looked furious.

You weren't best friends. You hung out only when the team got together at the parties, and since John was extremely jealous, it had never been only the two of you. But you both felt something every time your eyes met or when you sat too close to each other. He always gave you that one-sided smile that made your knees weak and the plums of your hands sweaty. It seemed like John had always sensed that tension between you and did everything to ruin it, even fighting with Bucky a few times over it. Their enmity was unspoken, yet everyone on the team knew the real reason.

Bucky had a crush on you probably since the first day when you came to see the game, but no one on the team besides Steve, Sam, and Nat knew that. You had a boyfriend, so he had no place to ruin it. Well, that's what Bucky thought at first. But when you started spending more time with the team and he started seeing the real sides of your relationship, it made him want to just pull you out of there.

You were so kind, and cute, and beautiful, so Bucky had to put effort into not staring at you like a creep. Everyone on the team adored you because you were nothing but sweet to them. But the person who was supposed to be your biggest supporter actually slowly ruined you.

Bucky noticed the way your face dropped every time John ignored you and didn’t pay attention to your words. He was too busy chatting with someone on his phone or just casually didn't care and didn’t even try to hide it. Your eyes would flick between his face and the phone screen, and then you stopped talking and sat quietly, probably too deep in your thoughts.

It really broke Bucky’s heart that you were taken for granted and that you weren't with the man who would give you the whole world without you even asking. And right now, he felt just a hot rage in his veins at the thought that John didn't care about your feelings; he was making decisions for you and convincing you that you needed to be skinnier.

“Did you decide that?” Your eyes shot at Bucky, who was looking like he was about to punch somebody. His brows were slightly furrowed, his jaw tensed, and there was not a single hint of the playfulness that he always had.

“I know what's better for her, Barnes. She’s not yours, isn’t she?” He winked at Bucky and threw a hand over your shoulder, carelessly dragging you closer. You squeaked at the sudden movement and tried to push your boyfriend away, mumbling a quiet “stop”.

“Oh, believe me, if she were mine, she wouldn’t try to push me away like that, Walker.” Bucky looked directly at you, making the weird feeling blossom in your stomach. The things that you were feeling for Bucky were wrong; you knew that. You had a boyfriend, and thinking about another man was basically cheating.

But how could you not?

He looked at you at every opportunity—you saw it even if you didn’t show it. Bucky was a charming man, a gentleman, with a beautiful face and a kind heart. Even though you weren’t so close, you were able to collect pieces of information from other guys, and you wanted to know him so badly, but it seemed like John felt something weird and forbade you to talk to him.

Your heart told you otherwise, though. You felt a reaction in your body every time Bucky smiled or laughed, even not with you, when you accidentally touched his hand a few times, and when you caught his baby blue eyes in the room.

It was never like that with John. John has been your first and only everything since high school, and after some time, it felt more like a routine to be together. He didn’t want to let you go, even though you suspected that he was cheating. You couldn’t say whether you loved him or not, but his usual coldness, carelessness, and annoyance when you were around made you think that you were the problem.

You were not ready to admit that you often lay in bed before going to sleep, thinking about how your life would be if you dated Bucky.

There was more tension between John and Bucky than usual after that night. They even got into another fight in the field over nothing, and you couldn’t help but think that it was partly your fault.

On Friday evening, there was a party at Bucky’s and Steve’s house. John was against you going there, and you got into another big argument over it, so he said that was not going to drive you there, and it was your own responsibility. Not that he usually gave you a ride somewhere; even on the rare occasions that were supposed to be a date, he went there in his car while you had to take a bus or a taxi.

He will apologize later for everything he said to you, but he will still repeat it a few days later. Those emotional swings honestly drained you; you were sick of his behavior and disrespectful words and of the way he was treating you. But you still stayed for reasons that even you couldn’t name.

Natasha, your usual lifesaver, picked you up despite your refusal, and after almost thirty minutes of driving, you pulled near the house with the loud music and a lot of people everywhere.

Holding Natasha’s hand, you walked through the bunch of people dancing and drinking into the room where your group usually sits. Two large sofa’s and a few armchairs were filled with boys from the team, Wanda and Yelena; the coffee table in between them was almost breaking from the weight of the alcohol bottles.

“Look who I got here.” Natasha slightly pushed you further into the room, and you followed her, still holding her hand, smiling and saying “hey” to everyone in the room. You definitely didn’t miss the way Bucky checked out your figure in a soft green dress.

He was sitting next to Steve, holding a bottle of bear in his hand, and he was looking awfully attractive in the simple jeans and t-shirt. He also had that boyish smile, which made you feel weird.

You were stuck on the coach between Natasha and Thor, who was laughing so hard that your entire body moved with him. Sam gave you a red cup with your favorite drink in it, and you sat comfortably laughing at the jokes with the group.

Even at parties, “Avengers” liked to hang out together, and with loud music and a lot of strangers in the house, it was fun and relaxing. People from your little circle came and went; some of them wanted to dance, some wanted to find a girl for the night, and when there were only your closest friends left, you remembered about John. It's already been half an hour since you came here, but you haven’t seen him.

“Did you see John? He said that he'd be there.”

“I saw him once, he should be somewhere here. Do you want me to find him?” Always cute and ready-to-help Thor looked at you with his kind puppy eyes and smiled.

“No, thanks, Thor. I’m just curious.” You waved your hand at him and soon forgot about your boyfriend, too interested in another playful argument between Sam and Bucky.

After another ten minutes, when your drinks finally started working, you excused yourself to go to the bathroom on the second floor. The boys didn’t let anyone besides your group go on the second floor, so as it seemed at first, the corridor was empty. You did what you needed to in the bathroom, and when you almost went down the stairs back to your friends, a weird noise caught your attention.

You went in another direction, and around the corner, you saw something that you definitely didn’t expect. John was almost eating another girl’s face. Her legs were wrapped around his naked body, and his t-shirt was carelessly thrown on the floor. Your sudden gasp probably gave you away, because John immediately stopped and looked at you.

Bucky had just finished another bottle of beer when strange noises came from the second floor, and you almost ran down the stairs in tears with John chasing after you.

“Y/N, please, wait! That’s not what you think! I can explain!” John was struggling to fasten the belt on his pants and was half naked. The tall blond girl walked down the stairs, looked at you with a grin, and disappeared into the crowd. And then it hit Bucky. He cheated on you.

That motherfucker cheated on you.

Guys stood from their places, as if the same thought came to all of them at the same time. John grabbed your hand, not allowing you to leave the room. You tried to get away, but he brought your shaking form closer and looked almost as if he were truly sorry.

“C’mon, you know that I love you. It was just sex. Please, honey. Don’t be mad.” He spoke too softly. It was obviously so fake, and it made you want to vomit. You looked at John through tears. You tried to stop them, but they were just streaming down your face. The painful wound in your chest felt like you were suffocating.

You were breathing heavily, trying to control yourself and not make a scene. God, everyone could see you. Your closest friends were watching your interaction, which was so fucking humiliating that you wanted to flee right then and there.

Steve and Sam both held Bucky by his hands so he wouldn't interfere. You had to end it on your own, but Bucky was in such rage that he could’ve probably killed John.

“D-don’t touch me, please. I don’t want– I don’t want it, I’m sick of you, of this. I-I’m done.” You stuttered, pushing him away from you, but John refused to let you go.

“Don’t you understand that you need me?!” As always, his behavior changed in a blink of an eye, and now, again, you were responsible for his actions. “It’s your fault. It wouldn’t have happened if you had given me what I needed… And can you stop fucking crying and put on a performance for everyone?" You shook your head to not let his words settle in, but you were already too hurt and broken to fight or stand up for yourself. Now you were blamed for your boyfriend’s cheating, and once again, he reminded you that your emotions were wrong.

The whole team looked at how your posture changed, you made yourself seem smaller, and your head was low with eyes glued to the floor in shame. Everyone was ready to step in, but Natasha was already ahead of everyone.

“I knew that I had to chop off your dick many years ago. You’re just using and manipulating her into thinking that she is the one to blame, while you are the piece of shit responsible for it.” Using the fact that Nat caught John’s attention, you ran past him back on the second floor, locking yourself in the bathroom.

As soon as you ran away, it became messy, with screams and almost a fight between Bucky and John. Sam and Steve weren’t able to hold him anymore. He was so pissed, ready to wipe off this asshole’s smirk for the way he talked to you.

Bucky was able to throw a punch before his teammates dragged him away and held John by his hands too.

“You’re trying too hard to get into her pants, Barnes. She’s not worth it.” John laughed, and Bucky tried to escape again, only to be stopped by Natasha, who got sick of this childish behavior.

“James, go find her." She started throwing orders. “Boys, get the trash out of the house.” Her perfect red nail pointed at John behind her back. “And you, go fuck yourself. You’re not getting near her ever again, I promise you this.”

“Are you sure?” Bucky furrowed, not sure how you would react to his company.

“Yes. You know that you can help her. We both know that.” She licked her lips, stepping closer to Bucky. “But if you ever hurt her, I swear to God, it’ll be your last day on earth, Barnes.”

You quietly slid down the wall, covering your mouth with your hand to muffle any sounds. Your heart was ripping apart, and you felt like you were going to faint. So stupid, so fucking stupid. The tears were rolling down your cheeks nonstop, and you just curled into yourself, crying and suffocating. It was probably your own fault that you hadn’t noticed everything earlier; it was obvious. John didn’t love you and didn’t care about you; he saw you as a possession and it made you sick thinking about every time he humiliated you.

It could be only a few minutes or a whole hour when you hear a soft nock on the door. Your whole body froze, waiting until the person went away.

“Doll, it’s me.” Bucky. You felt the relief washing over your body, but you still refused to answer him or make any sound. “Doll, please, open the door. I know that you’re here. I just want to help you.” His calming and deep voice brought another wave of tears to your eyes. Bucky was always so gentle with you and it felt weird—you weren’t used to that treatment, especially from a man.

You stayed quiet. Bucky tried to turn the handle on the door again, but it was closed, and you heard the muffled sound of his forehead touching the door.

“Please, at least say something. Talk to me, Y/N. I need to know that you’re okay.”

“Leave, Bucky.” You said between not stopping sobs. “I’ve already embarrassed myself enough.”

Bucky's heart sank to his stomach from your words and the way you were crying there over the man who didn’t deserve a single drop of your tears. “Don’t say this, doll. The only person who embarrassed himself was Walker. You have nothing to be ashamed of, I promise. Just open the door, sweetheart.” You couldn’t resist anymore. And even though you hated the thought that Bucky would see you looking like this, you reached for the lock and opened it.

He took a deep breath before stepping in and softly closing the door behind him. You looked so small, sitting on the floor in a ball, with your face hidden behind your hands and hair. Bucky kneeled in front of you, gently placing his hands on your wrists and pulling your hands away. He shook his head when you were avoiding his eyes and trying to stop crying, when your whole body was almost shivering with emotions and pain.

Your eyes, cheeks, and nose were red, your face was wet with tears, and your mascara was slightly smudged.

“Oh, sweetheart.” He mumbled before stroking your hair with his left hand. Bucky’s movements were so slow and careful, as if he were trying not to scare you. “C’mere. And you shouldn't be sitting on the cold floor; you might get sick. ” Bucky himself sat on the floor near you before his other hand slipped under your legs and lifted you sideways onto his lap.

When you felt two strong arms wrap around you, your body dissolved into his. Your face perfectly fit into the crook of Bucky’s neck, and you sobbed out loud.

“Sh-h, that’s okay. You can cry if you want to, doll. Don’t hold it back. I’ve got you.” You shook your head, gripping his shirt in your fists. You tried to control yourself, but the way Bucky tried to calm you down and was so sweet made you even more emotional.

You were crying, hidden between his neck and shoulder, while Bucky rocked you like a baby and kissed your head. His hands never left your body, creating a safe space and grounding you.

“I’m so stupid. I’m so fucking stupid. It’s my fault that it happened. I should’ve left a long time ago. I don't—I don’t know how it got so bad.” Your voice was weak and you couldn’t stop crying as the images from the night flushed through your mind. “I’m sorry for ruining your night, Bucky.”

“No. Don’t ever apologize for things like this, doll. None of this was your fault, you hear me?” Bucky took a deep breath as the rage began to form in him towards the coward who made you so unsure of yourself. "You are the sweetest person I have ever met, and I swear everyone on the team adores you. You didn’t deserve to be treated that way, and I'm so sorry that it happened to you. But you should know that we’re all on your side. If you let us, we’ll make sure that John won’t bother you again, sweetheart.”

“You’re so sweet.” You smiled through tears, gripping his shirt harder.

“Because that’s what you deserve. I won’t ever let anyone hurt you.” He mumbled into your hair, but it didn’t respond. Now that John didn’t control you anymore, you just didn’t know what to say or how to feel about the warmth that Bucky’s presence and words had given you.

Bucky sat there with you, probably for another ten minutes, while you were calming down and your tears were slowly ending. After your crying session, you just felt exhausted; your body was aching and your eyes felt so heavy that you almost felt asleep on Bucky’s firm chest.

“Hey, doll, don’t fall asleep here.” He slightly pulled you away when he felt that your breath started slowing down, ready for sleep. Bucky held your face with his right hand and gently tried to wipe your mascara. “You’ll stay in my room, okay? I won’t let you drive home in a taxi like that, and everyone else here is drunk. But first, we should take off your makeup.

“What? No, I won't sleep in your room, it’s your place.” The cutest little frown appeared on your face and Bucky bit his lip to not make a comment about that. He helped you get up, still having a firm hand on your lower back, and walked you to the sink. “Oh my god, I look horrifying.”

“Actually, you’re really cute. But we should take off your makeup. You can’t sleep like that and your eyes will hurt in the morning.” Bucky stepped to the side and opened the drawer. “Here is everything Nat has. Is there anything to wash your face with?” He curiously examined the bottles, reading the labels and frowning at the unknown words.

You couldn’t hold back a small laugh at the confusion on his face and reached to take the right one, squeezing some product on your hand. Bucky had a small smile on his face, noticing that he was able to make you forget about John, at least for a few minutes. “Can I help you?”

“You don’t have to.”

“I want to.” Not breaking eye contact, Bucky took a new clean towel, wetted it, and gently placed his left hand on your neck while the right one wiped your makeup off.

You froze at your place, studying Bucky’s face. He was so concentrated on his task that he probably didn’t even notice you staring. Your heart was beating too fast, and your skin was burning under his touch. You craved him, only now understanding how much your body and soul needed him.

“You look so pretty without makeup.” Bucky smiled at you, and you couldn’t hold your own smile from forming on your lips. “Wait a second.” He stormed out of the room and returned in less than a minute with one of his t-shirts and a pair of sweatpants. “You can wear it. Now finish here, change your clothes, and you can go to sleep, okay?” As soon as Bucky got a nod from you, he smiled, placed a light kiss on your forehead, and left you alone in the bathroom, standing in front of the mirror with a smile on your face and butterflies in your stomach.

Bucky’s clothes smelled amazing, just like he always did. You spend a good minute with your face buried in the t-shirt that he gave you before finally putting it on. You looked at yourself in a mirror, feeling relieved and kind of happy for the first time in a while, until your phone on the counter buzzed with messages and you saw that someone texted you several times.

Your heart sank in your stomach when you unlocked the phone, and your eyes started quickly reading the messages from John.

Where the fuck are you?

Come back now, or you’ll regret it, Y/N.

I saw how Barnes run after you

Are you fucking with him?

I knew that you were just a whore

Can’t even keep your legs close, can you?

He’ll just use you, that’s everything you're good for anyway

Always played hard to get with me, but you’re just like any other bitch

Are you going to answer me?

You’re really pissing me off right now

“Doll?” After sending Nat a message that you were okay and that you were going to sleep in his room, Bucky knocked on the door because you were too silent there, but you didn’t answer him. “Is everything okay? Can I come in?” He leaned closer to the door and still heard nothing.

Bucky slightly pushed the door, and the first thing that he saw was you in his clothes. He almost made a comment, until his eyes shifted to your wet, teary face. Your hand with the phone in it was slightly shaking, while your gaze was glued to the screen. You didn’t even notice Bucky’s presence until he stepped closer to you and forced you to look at him with a hand on your face.

“Hey-hey-hey, what happened, sweetheart? I left you a few minutes ago, and everything was fine. What’s going on?” The concern in his voice made you want to cry even harder. You hesitated for a few seconds, wondering whether you should show Bucky the text messages. What if he thinks the same? What if John’s right, and that’s everything Bucky wanted from you too?

But the way he was looking at you, so genuinely worried, wiping your tears once again, made you give up.

As soon as the phone was turned towards Bucky, you saw the instant change of emotions on his face. His brows furrowed, the blue eyes that were soft and caring before narrowed, and his jaw clenched. Bucky was filled with so much anger that he was ready to go after your ex and beat him up. Such a sweet and cute thing as you did not deserve to be treated this way or to hear such words directed at you. But Bucky knew that it was the wrong time to show his emotions; the last thing he wanted to do was scare you, so he just swallowed his anger, took the phone out of your hands, and put it in his pocket.

"Please don’t listen to him. Don’t listen to a single word he’s saying, Y/N.” Bucky pulled you into himself, and you once again melted under his touch. His firm chest and tight grip around your shivering body made you feel safe. “You’re the sweetest fucking person ever. You’re everything that any guy could ever dream about. You deserve the whole world to be gifted to you, doll. He knows that he lost the best girl and now wants to hurt your feelings and boost his own ego.” Bucky started stroking your hair while mumbling reassuring words into your ear. “I want you to be strong. I want you to see in yourself what I see in you. Promise me that you’ll try. And I promise that I’ll help you.” You nodded against Bucky’s chest, now too emotional about his words. “Now let’s get you to bed, that’s enough for today.”

Bucky led you to his room, which was dark with only one nightstand lamp on. You’ve been here several times at other parties, but you've never really had time to look around. It was so… Bucky? Dark and comfy, with random books laying here and there, two coffee mugs, and his uniform on the chair.

“Can you lay with me? At least until I fall asleep.” You whispered as you sat at the edge of the bed. How could he say no to you when you looked at him with those eyes?

You got under the blanket, already feeling like you were about to fall asleep. Eyes heavy, body exhausted from the stress and all of the tears you’d cried today. Bucky climbed near you, lifting one arm as a suggestion for you to hug him. And you didn’t waste a second. You got closer to him, perfectly fitting under his arm, and wrapped your own hand around his waist. Bucky hesitantly touched your fingers on his stomach with his free hand, but you just went in and interlaced them.

“Thank you for everything, Bucky.” You mumbled against his shoulder, barely keeping yourself awake. “I– I wish everything went differently. I like you, you know that? I always did. But now I don’t know what to do.” You nuzzled deeper into him, listening to his steady heartbeat.

“Well, then I am happy to even have a small chance. Everyone knows that I go crazy about you. But we’ll talk about it tomorrow, sweetheart. Now sleep, you had a long day.”

“Mhm… Just don’t leave me.”

“I won’t.” Bucky kissed your head, listening to you fall asleep. The only thing that he could think about was how he was going to make you his and shower you with all the love you deserved.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky x you #james bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #bucky barnes x you

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dilfguzzler · 5 months

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thinking about dom!husband!price coming home to you, his pretty little housewife with the lads after a successful mission. they’re riding a high and always appreciate your dinner and hosting when they get home.

john, however, has different plans for you tonight. he’s going to let his men use you as they wish. obviously you’ve discussed this before and you’re 100% up for it but you always thought it was more a hypothetical, unsure if john would ever actually go through with asking them

of course the boys are up for it. yes you’re their captains wife but damn if they hadn’t had their hands down their pants thinking of you a few times.

it starts in the living room, johnny and gaz getting a feel of you at long last while simon stands ominously to the side and john watches on.

you all move into your bedroom, john taking a seat in the armchair in the corner while you beckon simon over. you and him take your time making out and getting acquainted while johnny and gaz get undressed and feel you up

once they’ve all warmed up and gotten comfortable, they do not go easy on you. at one point you’re stuffed full of john and simon at the same time, one in your ass the other in your cunt. johnny is off to the side catching his breath after cumming down your throat while gaz takes his place in your mouth. you’re chest to chest with your husband while his right hand man is balls deep in your ass. and he couldn’t be more proud of you. you’ve never been so beautiful despite being so wrecked.

once the night fizzles out, you have at least 10 loads of cum in your cunt, ass and stomach. your body is scorching hot and you can barely moved from being so fucked out.

you cling to john as your lifeline, your only connection to the real world as he murmurs how proud he is of you for taking his boys, how beautiful you look. you never want to let go.

you vaguely register someone bringing you some water, putting the glass to your lips while john helps you tip your head back. you can hear the boys getting dressed and ready to leave, saying some words that are far beyond your comprehension to their captain.

john moves you and drops you onto your back on the bed, you flinching at the coldness left from the mix of fluids on the sheets. “i’ll be right back, love. just going to run you a bath”

after a quick bath while john changes the sheets, you’re cuddled up where you belong. tight and safe in his arms. the only man you would ever belong to fully. not a doubt in your mind that this is where you’ll be for the rest of your life.

#i love this man so deeply #john price #captain john price #john price x reader #captain john price x reader #simon riley x reader #johnny soap mactavish x reader #kyle garrick x reader #johnny mactavish x reader #ghost x reader #soap x reader #gaz x reader #cod mw2 x reader #captain price #captain price x reader #cod x reader #simon ghost riley x reader

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madelynraemunson · 14 days

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— along for the ride ☆

🐃 the tag team (co-writers): @joshlmbrt @swiss-mrs @mediocredreams 🩶

eddie x fem!reader

a/n: reading flight of icarus and finding out eddie is from tennessee REALLY husked my corn 🤠 also, this may or may not have been inspired by the bull fight scene in hoard

cw: daydream p in v sex, riding, eddie gets a hard on watching reader ride, innuendos, play on words

Stamina. Strength. Strategy. Safety. The Four Important S’s when it comes to bull-riding.

‘Support’ is your unofficial fifth. You’ve generated quite the following after showcasing your riding skills at Whisky Jim’s every Saturday night, the ooohs and aaahs of your spectators filling the air as the spotlight drenches your cute… calculated… perspiring body.

Bull-riding at the dive bar every weekend has become a favorite hobby of yours. It’s a perfect outlet for all the stress, the rough-and-tough of it all perfectly counterbalancing your slow-as-snails, but somehow busy and draining 9 to 5. Riding gave you something to look forward to.

“Look at her go,” an onlooker coos in admiration. “She’s got life by the goddamn horns.”

You toss your head back, glossy lips parted in excitement as the crowd’s appreciative hoots and whistles filled the air. You could get used to this. You have gotten used to this.

Even with the world at your feet, things were starting to get boring again. And you are constantly craving something wild, something new. Something or someone that will make like the bull by sweeping you off your feet and taking you out for a spin.

Someone like Eddie Munson, perhaps.

Eddie isn’t sure what drew him… here out of all places. But something about the rowdiness compels him as he climbs out of his van, Halen and into the bar, boots scuffing the hard wooden floor. But the flight-risk metalhead is determined to find out, itching for adventure as he saunters with feigned confidence into the southern saloon.

He flags down the closest bartender, a country heartthrob of a man with black hair and blue eyes. The Casanaova places a coaster down in front of him as Eddie steps up to the plate. “What’ll ya be havin’?”

“Anything local,” Eddie replies, more of a question, unsure of what exactly is available. “Anything hoppy.”

“Bottle or Tap?” the man follows up after a curt nod, mindlessly running a hand over his thick mustache.

“Tap. Pint, please.”

The bartender gives another nod before disappearing to fulfill Eddie’s request. Meanwhile, the outcast takes this short window of time to look up and down the bar at the different patrons.

All from different walks of life. But all here for presumably the same reason.Whisky Jim’s is decently packed, but for the most part, the crowd is congregated either in booths, at tables, or in the middle of the floor.

A glass is placed onto the coaster. The same deep country twang effectively regains Eddie’s attention.

“Wanna start a tab, brother?” The older man asks with a polite grin, eyes crinkling up at the sides as he does.

Eddie offers a polite smile in return.

“Uh, sure. Thanks.”

The bartender studies him intently this time, crossing his arms over his broad chest.

“First timer?”

Eddie clears his throat uneasily, kicking at the peanut casings at his feet to avoid contact with the John Wayne of a man that was in front of him.

“Obvious?”

The man cackles at Eddie, the slight patronization of the old-timer’s demeanor making him want to evaporate. But the amused blue eyes and downturned smile indicates it’s all in good fun, much like his uncle Wayne who always liked giving him a hard time whenever he made himself too small.

“Son, you couldn’t stick out further if you were a dog’s balls.”

A fellow bartender laughs at the man’s remark. Then Eddie joins in. It was pretty funny.

“You just don’t really look like the kind to be into square dancin’, is all,” the bartender remarks as he narrows his eyes at Eddie. Eddie shrugs and takes a sip of his beer, slightly wincing as the first sip hits him.

“Well, you’re not wrong. Just thought I’d explore a bit outside of my usual.”

“What’s your name, kid?”

“Eddie.”

“Greg.” The bartender gives him his hand to shake. “You from around here or you comin’ from outta town?”

“Hawkins.”

“Not too far from home then. And it seems you came on a good night.”

And as if on cue, the crowd towards the middle of the building erupts in cheers. Eddie briefly glances over his shoulder in the general direction before turning back to Greg with a curious head tilt.

“What’s happening?”

Greg nods his head over in the direction of the crowd.

“Bull Ridin’ Night.”

Your thighs are wrapped around the firm leather seat as you’re whisked around in one fluid motion. You turn to give your rapt audience a wink. The crowd eats up your presence, evident by the adorn kisses they blow your way. You buy into the theatrics, pretending to catch them before putting them in your back pocket for later. It only riles the audience up more.

“They bring that thing out on Saturdays,” Greg explains. “Between the Karaoke Nights and the Hoedowns, Bull Ridin’ is one of the most popular.”

Eddie tries another glance in that direction, but due to the crowd, he doesn’t have the best view of who is actually riding.

“You gon’ give it a try?”

Eddie’s head whips back around to the older man to find a teasing smirk on his face. Eddie shakes his head.

“I… don’t think so.” He chuckles. “I’m not the most balanced or coordinated person.” He admits that with a grimace and another sip of his Hawkins Pale Ale.

“I’m just teasin’ ya, boy. HEY!” Greg whistles at the bartender next to him. “Who’s up there now?”

The coworker throws a quick glance over their shoulder before replying. There’s a bashful smirk when they reply,

“Who do you think?”

The crowd erupts again, cheers and whistles alike. Who else gets this kind of crowd engagement? No one else other than you, of course.

“Looks like my girl is up there breakin’ hearts again.” Greg lets out a soft laugh.

Eddie gulps as his breathing shallows. A girl? Up there? On that thing?

Eddie, once again, nearly strains his neck trying to get a glimpse of the rider. When he fails, Eddie turns back to the bar, downing the final quarter of his pint, before looking back at Greg.

“Fetch me a bottle for the road, yeah?”

Greg issues him a chuckle, grabbing the empty glass and handing him a bottle version of that very ale, while Eddie sets off on his curiosity journey to the middle of the floor.

“Boys will be boys.” Greg’s female coworker remarks with sassy pursed lips.

Eddie closes in on the crowd, slipping through the few empty spaces between the onlookers with half-assed ‘Excuse me’s. Though no one was paying him any mind. And when he settles by the barrier, just a mere two rows behind, he finally gets the perfect view of you.

Eddie couldn’t fight the grin that spread across his face at the sight of you working the crowd. He watches as you give a practiced flick of your hips to get the crowd going and the enticing jiggle of your breasts under your tight shirt. Drew in Eddie’s eyes like a laser beam. The thin material was stretched taut, giving a hint of the perfect tits underneath as you arched your lower back and thrust your chest forward to keep your balance.

“Christ,” he exhales sharply, in awe of your natural performance, the boisterous, unpredictable gravity of the machine whirling you around as you wrestle to hold on.

His eyes drink in the sight of the soft, rounded curve of your ass that peeked out of the bottom of your faded Daisy Duke’s as you lean forward to steady yourself in the saddle.

WHOOSH!

The bull jerks sideways and you flex your thighs and circle your hips in the saddle to keep yourself astride. The plush skin of your upper thighs press tightly against the seat and your upper body sways in rhythm with the bull’s movement.

You were born to ride.

“That’s how you do it, Indiana!” a spectator hoots in adoration as you cling on for dear life. “That’s how you do it!”

You give a deep roll of your hips to meet the thrust of the machine, causing Eddie to run the tip of his tongue along his bottom lip before sucking in a shaky breath. Your hips… the way they roll… is almost hypnotic, and Eddie’s brown doe eyes can’t help but linger on the sliver of skin that peeks out, black, intricate swirls of cyber-sigilism that tease him slightly.

Fuck.

“God, she’s so pretty…” he thinks to himself. “And she knows how to ride.”

Eddie’s eyes trail to the white of your knuckles, his own fingers gripping the bottle of his beer when his eyes slide up your arm and land on your face.

The front of his pants start to feel uncomfortably tight. Eddie adjusts himself as discreetly as he could, but even the soft brush of his fingers against the strained denim causes him to hiss under his breath.

“Ride it, cowgirl!” an audience’s comment centers Eddie once again. “LET ‘EM KNOW!”

The way you matched the bull’s gyrations and anticipated its every move made him weak in the knees, and as he watched you swirl your hips in the saddle like a modern day Annie Oakley he couldn’t help but wish it was him straddled between your shapely thighs instead.

As Eddie stood there watching, the dull roar of the crowd faded into the background. At that moment it was just you and him.

In his mind he’s already lassoed you to his bed; and you’re sat astride him like a cowgirl in your saddle, hands splayed on his chest for balance as you lowered yourself onto his throbbing cock. And you’d bite down on your plush lower lip and let out a soft moan as you sank down onto him slowly, taking your time and adjusting to his size.

“Oh, Eddie,” he could almost hear you purring. “It’s so big.”

And he’d chuckle with false modesty and rub a hand tenderly along your thigh as if to soothe the delicious stretch of his thick girth.Then once you adjusted, you’d move, meeting each unpredictable roll of his hips with your own as you mastered the rhythm of your very own long-haired bucking bronco.

And he’d be gripping you tight with each deep thrust, pistoning, plowing himself into you while watching his cock disappear into your slick pussy over and over with each forceful snap of his hips. And with every strained mewl he milks out of you he’d press you down by the hips and drill into you further, your weak cunt just about ready to tap out on top of him. This handsome bull’s sure a challenge, you’d be thinking to yourself. Eddie is a ride you wouldn’t be able to survive.

———

The crowd disperses when the show is over. Eddie stands a bit straighter when you finally leave the middle of the floor, eyes darting towards the plush smirk that your soft lips create. If it’s even possible, he thinks you look even more heavenly. He’s sure you don’t even realize what you’re doing to him.

Little does he know that for you, he’s taken that same effect. You’ve grown so accustomed to everyone here that a new face has captured your attention. And you felt him staring at you, with a gaze so impassioned that you just about almost lost your footing up there. But you pulled it off real well, attempting to shake off the redirection in the form of a dramatic bounce of your tits.

It perplexes you. A man making you that nervous? Up until late, it’s become rather unheard of. You want to know this man and see for yourself what his energy is all about.

Eddie finds himself fixing his appearance when he notices your legs striding over, clearing his throat as his palm slides over the stubble that he had been trying to grow.

“You know it’s kinda rude to stare the way that you do,” you remark.

“How so?” Eddie challenges. “Everyone else is doing it. What makes me different from everybody?”

“That’s what I’m trying to find out,” you smile at him.

Eddie shifts his weight onto the counter, bringing the bottle up to his lips, taking another gulp. His eyes dart everywhere -- the metal buckle of your belt, the skin that was shiny with dried sweat, your hands that tap at the sticky countertop of the bar, the way your lips wrap around the tip of your bottle and the liquid that slips out and down your chin that he greedily wanted to tongue away.

“Funny,” you observe. “I’m here every Saturday and I’ve never once seen your face.”

He thinks he’s looking over at an angel, really, heart beating faster when he realizes it’s him that you’d made an effort to come up to. Made an effort to get to know.

“Interesting that you saw me.”

“I see everything from up there. And you’re a newcomer, I can tell. Sticking out like a sore thumb in the best way.”

You invite him into your energy, closing up the distance between the two of you with a graceful stride in his direction.

“You were amazing,” Eddie says to you. “Really know how to put on a show, cowgirl.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Eddie insists. “Spotlight loves you. Killer crowd engagement as well.”

“You a performer too?”

“Depends who’s asking.”

“Mmm, I don’t know…” you sigh dreamily. “Just a fellow performer lookin’ for some tips and pointers.”

Not much needs to be said to know that you two ache for each other, judging by how the intimate dive bar grows non-existent for as long as you two are captured in the forcefield of each other. Eddie thinks that there would be absolutely nothing better than giving you some pointers, his hand leaving the bottle, some of the liquid sloshing around the precipitating glass, heart pounding in his ears as he nods quickly. One rowdy night wouldn’t hurt anybody, he thinks to himself. And it’s very apparent that, the stunner that is you, wants take him for a spin.

“So what do you say, cowboy?” you cock an eyebrow at him. “Why don’t we ride off into the sunset, just you and me?”

dividers by: @animatedglittergraphics-n-more @saradika @mikeykuns

#eddie munson #eddie munson smut #eddie munson headcannon #eddie munson one shot #eddie munson x reader #country!eddie munson #eddie munson imagine #stranger things #stranger things 4

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