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#call of duty fanfic
groguspicklejar · 1 day
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Under Your Spell
Chapter 1: Sink Your Teeth
Pairing: Gaz x f!reader x Soap
Warnings: dark fic!!! dubcon/noncon touching, nonconsentual filming, manipulation, smut, oral (fem receiving), p in v, rough sex, mirror sex, male masturbation, one-sided pining.
A/N: idk how but this just spawned right out of me :)
+18 Only!!! No Minors or Ageless Blogs are to read this!!! And if you're not comfortable with the warnings above and the tags, do not read!!!
[Part 2] [Part 3]
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They return at the same time. Your eyes dart around as people pour out from the terminal gate until you spot them. Both still in their green uniforms, both weary and drained from their last mission.
Kyle instantly smiled when he sees you waiting for him and beelines for you. Nothing but relief flooded you when he drops his duffle bag and brings you into his arms and spins you around. Gleeful squeals are all that leave you when he does this and puts you down while kissing the side of your head. “God, you’ve no idea how much I missed you, doll.”
You’re a little breathless as he brings his mouth upon yours for a sweet kiss. “I have a distinct feeling that you’ll remind me when we get home.”
His eyes darken for a second. “Don’t you start.”
Smiling, you shift out of his grasp and turn to his companion. “Hey, Soap.”
“Good tae see ye again, bonnie.” John MacTavish, ever the enthusiast, grins widely at your greeting. You were surprised at how tightly Soap embraced you, but returned the gesture nonetheless. He buries his face in the crook of your neck, groaning into your skin.
He’s touchy, this one. Even more than your husband is. But that’s just Soap, he’s the affectionate one of the group and you’ve grown used to it by now. Soap’s arms tighten when you squirm and giggle, asking him if he’ll let go now.
You roll your eyes. He does this every time.
Although, today might be a little different.
“A few more minutes, bonnie” You flinch when he presses a kiss on your neck, lips then brushing against the curve of your ear as his voice lowers. “I’ve missed ye.”
For all of five seconds, you freeze, unsure of how to respond. Wondering if the ringing in your head was just you overreacting or if he was being as serious as you think he is.
You’re all too aware of the weight of his hands on your back, how he seems far too content with staying just like that. How he seems to want to melt into your bones and never leave.
Clearing your throat, you gently pull away. He’s just friendly. He’s just Soap. You’re reading into things that aren’t there.
“Okay.” you manage to smile again. “Who’s hungry?”
You don’t think they could’ve been any happier at that moment.
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You didn’t think much about that moment after that. You’ve just been too busy appreciating Kyle’s presence back home.
“You’ve been banking on this, haven’t you?” He’s got you bent over the sink, still in his gear. He’s on his knees as you plant your hands against the mirror. “Walking around wearing nothing under this.”
Your floral pink dress had been hiked up to your hips. His mouth sucking hotly on the skin of your thighs, fingers digging into your hips. His teeth nip your ass, earning a faint whimper.
Weeks of pent up agitation. Weeks without Kyle. It's never easy. Watching him leave, hoping he stays alive, praying he comes back to you still alive and in one piece. Hardly a night goes by when you don't think about him.
Hardly a moment goes by without thinking about the way he touches you. With fevor, with reverence. You've bought more batteries for your vibrator in the last few years than the average person does in their entire lifetime.
You’re trying to keep quiet. Trying not to let the throbbing between your thighs overrule your logic as you try to keep your voice lowered. Johnny’s in the guest room and the walls aren’t thick. You can’t bear the thought of him hearing what your husband does to you in the dead of night.
“My pretty little whore.” The trepidation in your bones increases when he buries his face in your pussy. You cover your mouth, eyes fluttering when his tongue cards between your folds, a loud groan following, echoing through the bathroom tiles. “Sitting in a public airport, waiting for me with no panties on. And you say I’m the nasty one, you hypocrite.”
A strained mewl escapes between your fingers. Your forehead lays against the mirror as he spreads your folds and licks your quivering pussy. And he does so slowly, with the patience of a saint.
Fuck, you've missed him.
“I’m not the one eating if from the ba–ah!” Your retort crest into a high pitch, your skin prickling with goosebumps. Too fast, too soon. Too loud. He suckles on your clit and rolls it between his tongue, hands gripping your ass to keep you still when you squirm too much.
The edge of a cliff is eerily too close and he's determined to nudge you just over it. Sparks crackle and light a fire down your spine. You want to reach for his hair but you can't leg go of the sink or risk removing the only barrier that keeps you from being too loud.
There's not much that can be done about the lewd wet noises that come from Gaz devouring you, but you muffle your own noises with the back of your wrist whilst still trying to beg him for more. “Kyle– please–”
You try to whisper, but it comes out in a hiccup. A weak moan, a plea for more, for mercy. For anything. Much to your devastation, he stops and grins at you with glistening hips and chin.
“Why are you getting all shy on me, love? You wanted this.” He stands up and you want to beg him to kneel again, but your eyes trail to his hands as you look behind. He's undoing his belt and rucks his pants down enough for his to reveal his cock.
You're trying not to be too distracted by how thick and veiny it is, how fucking good he's going to stretch you out. Instead, you meet his heated gaze. “I’m trying not to let our guest know what we’re up to.”
Kyle gently orders you to place your knee on the sink because he wants a clear view of your pussy. His arm wraps around you. You're set ablaze at the blunt tip sliding through your folds, a choked whimper muffled by how hard you bit your lip.
“Who cares if he hears us?” He keeps your stare through the mirror, angling his hips, drawing for the kill. Your skin prickles hotly when his cock pushes inside. He pulls out, only for a brief second, a miniscule moment of anticipation. “All that matters–”
His hips snap. A surprised scream tears out of your throat. He slides right home, filling you in ways you've missed, ways you could only find in dreams.
“–is our happy reunion.” he groans out, slowly pulling out and drawing inside again.
Your head lays against his shoulder. His cock is throbbing as he slowly pulls out and for a moment, you think he's going to take his time. He almost always does. But no—
A loud moan echoes through the bathroom when he snaps his hips again, sinking his cock deep inside your cunt. He presses you against the ceramic basin, face buried in your neck with his deep groan melting into your bones.
His hands pawed at the bodice of your dress until he's had enough of the fabric getting in the way. Suddenly, you gasp at the buttons that popped and spilled all over as he tore it open, granting him access to your breasts.
There was no time to reprimand him for that as he already started gliding his shaft in and out, muttering a strained curse into your ear. Pleasure coursed through your veins like rivers of molten lava, burning every sense of logic.
He made you look at him through the mirror and his hand reached between your legs. “Now be a good girl and let me hear you.”
“Gaz–” you choked, trying to keep your voice down. Your hand automatically goes to cover your mouth when your squeal pierces through the air, his thrusts becoming harder, more precise. You're spiralling further and further away from your grip on sanity with each drag of his length.
The power he had over you was frightening. But you couldn't find a drop of fear in your blood. He was so good at numbing every rational thought in your head with the way he easily bends your body to his will.
He fills you up so good, it's impossible to resist the flood that builds inside. Your pussy is fluttering and creaming around him already as he's fucks you in earnest, his rough palms groping your breasts under the torn material of your dress. Your skin already burns hot from the wet salacious noises and your own helpless mewls are muffled behind your hand.
“No hands on your mouth.” he commands, dragging your hand away, heated eyes seeing into you through his reflection. “Or I won’t let you cum.”
It's harsh. Almost bordering on cruel. But you've never known Kyle to go back on his promises. If he says he will or won't do something, it's more than likely that he means it and he'll stand on his word.
“Let him hear you. Let him hear how sweet you’re being for me.” It's pure sin whispered into your ear through harsh grunts and nips of his teeth. His fingers slip through your folds, dragging through the wetness and bringing it to circle around your throbbing clit. You can't help the moans that bleed out of your throat. “That’s it, love. That’s it. Be as loud as you need.”
His hips grind into you almost to the point where it's painful. There's going to be bruises on your hips from the way he's kept you pinned against the sink. Your hooded gaze is drawn to the mirror, watching the way your husband's cock glistens between hurried thrusts.
You're already at the brink of your limit with Kyle muttering endless filth about how he wouldn't mind showing Soap how good this pussy gets fucked every night upon his return, how Soap would be made to beg for a taste of you.
“He's a fucking dog, that one. He'd slobber all over your cunt if he even thinks he's got a chance.” Kyle says while rubbing your clit harder, his gaze focused on your drunken expression. “Would you give it to him, love? Would you let him eat your pussy?”
Your eyes roll back at the thought. Your mouth hung open as a long mewl escapes your lungs when you tighten around his cock. He fucks you harder when you cum. And keeps the pace up until it stutters and he floods your pussy with his spend.
You don't know what to make of Kyle's words. Except to chalk them as just that. Words. Just words. He can't actually want his best friend to fuck you, that's ridiculous.
If Soap heard what was going on in the other room, he didn’t breathe a word about it the next day. He was as chipper as a man can be, in fact. He's whistling as he walks into the kitchen as you're boiling water for Kyle's tea and your coffee.
“Mornin’, bonnie.” His grin is the widest it has ever been. You flinch when his hand brushes the small of your back when he walks past you. The touch is brief, but you can feel the heat radiating from his palm, seeping into your skin through your crisp shirt.
He's a fucking dog, that one.
Would you let him eat your pussy?
Your resolve falters. The unholy thoughts filter into your mind a million times at a second. Soap spreading your legs open with that mischievous glint in his eyes before he starts to lick the viscous fluid from your cunt. Your own body betrays you, a pulse slowly coming to life between your thighs.
Would you give it to him, love?
You pour a mug for Johnny. He preferred coffee. “How’d you sleep?”
“Good.” He pecks your cheek when you hand him the ceramic cup. “Feels good tae sleep on a bed tha’ doesn’t feel like a rock.”
You wished with all your might to not let it affect you. His proximity had never been a problem before. Now it grates at your existence. Whatever Kyle said to you the night before has taken root and has dug its way through some dark part of you that you haven't quite let into the light.
You need to rip it out. From the root and never let it grow back. You can't let it ruin your marriage. You can't let it get between a perfectly good friendship.
Kyle chuckled as he entered the kitchen. “Amen to that.”
It felt nice to have the boys back home. But alas, you had places to be and things to do and you wanted some semblance of space away from your husband's best friend so you can think clearly.
Both of them sat down across from each other at the table in the middle of the kitchen, drinking the tea/coffee you made for them. You had already gotten dressed for the day and went to grab your bag from the sofa while sipping your coffee. Johnny's voice follows you when you slink it over your shoulder, the weight of your laptop straining your bones. “Where are ye going, love?”
“Work.” You take one big gulp of your coffee before heading over to the sink. “Got an early meeting.”
You try as best as you can not to catch Soap's eyes as you finish the rest of your early morning hot beverage.
“Damn, really?” Kyle frowns. “Can’t you take a day off?”
“Unfortunately not, hon.” Your nearly empty cup goes in the sink and you head over to give him a kiss on the cheek. “Some of us don’t get to have extended paid leave for saving the world because well… we don’t save the world.”
He puts his mug down on the table. “Let me drive you to work then.”
“No, it’s okay.” you pecked his lips and patted his shoulder. “You can stay in and get some sleep. Lord knows you need it.”
The last bit was whispered with a cheeky smile though you're sure Soap heard before you whirled away from him, letting his exasperated groan follow you to the door. “Dollface…”
“I’m right here, ye ken.” Johnny grumbles, rolling his eyes in annoyance.
“Apologies, Johnny.” you giggled just as Kyle stood up.
“Come on, I’m dropping you off. And I’ll be picking you up later too.”
It's very unlikely that he'll be taking no for an answer, so you graciously accept.
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“Look at the mirror, dollface. So pretty for me, darlin. All for me.”
Smut bastard, Johnny grits his teeth, jerking the hand around his leaking cock faster. The light from his phone illuminated his face in the dark room.
The flowers printed on your dress had been ruffled and torn wide open, revealing your breasts for display, showing the way they jiggled with each hard push of Kyle's hips. The man's hand played with one tit while the other splayed on your stomach with your dress bunched up, revealing the prize between your legs.
The hidden camera worked like a charm. Connected to Soap's phone to alert him when the motion detector had been set off and let him see and record everything. He's been playing the video back on repeat ever since you left for work.
It was Kyle's idea, a way to just rub it in Johnny's face on what he's missing out on. You.
Gaz, despite being open to the idea of letting another man fuck you, has been greedy about you since the very beginning. He doesn't brag about you to the squad. Always kept it hush-hush when it comes to you, even to Price.
That was until Gaz noticed the little crush obsession Soap had. Though it was kind of obvious with the way he kept asking about you. How you were, what you were probably doing at particular times of the day. Basic things. Innocent things. Harmless enough to keep Soap from spiralling while he's on deployment, harmless enough to make him look forward to come to visit you.
“You worry about Soap hearing you, but what if he saw us like this, hm?” Kyle's gravel tone crackles through the phone. Soap fixes his eyes on the way his cock batters your sweet pussy, your whimper making his blood sing. “Naughty girl— You liked that, don't you?”
Johnny feels his shaft throb with want, with a vicious need dig his fingers into your skin through the bloody screen. Just an ounce of shame bleeding into his veins as he fists his cock, desperate for that release. Pining over his best friend's wife. Drooling over you like the fucking dog that he is.
It doesn't help that said best friend is helping him indulge this disgustingly insatiable need.
Your sweet voice crescendos into a cry of your husband's name when you cum. Soap watches the way your face scrunched in pleasure, your frame twitching in Kyle's arms. It is too much, triggering Soap's orgasm altogether.
It's a hot, blistering implosion. A savage curse taking root deep in his heart and wrapping around his veils, his bones. A hiss tears through the air, hips stuttering as he forces his cock through his lubed hand for a few more strokes while hot cum bursts from it.
He's shaking as the high slowly descends him back down to earth. Panting deeply as he lays heavily on the bed, heat and sweat clinging to his skin. All he can think of is you, you, you.
There was no erasing you from his mind. No after what he's seen. Not after Gaz made him pear through his most private moments with you, showing just how good you are to him.
Johnny groans as he finally lets go of his cock, swallowing thickly as he looks at the cum sticking to his palm.
“Hells fucking bells...”
Gaz is never going to let him live this down.
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[part 2; Split My Skin] Under Your Spell Masterlist posting this and going straight to sleep. bye✌🏽
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patrollingboston · 2 days
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Price has his girlfriend’s photo in his helmet….
Keeping you close // Price x Reader fluff
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Price was often away for weeks or even months at a time. Nothing unusual for you two. You were able to call, even sometimes having to revert back to communicating through paper and pen.
One particular letter you had attached a photo of yourself, nothing particularly special. Your friend had taken it if you when out for lunch, it displayed you sat across a table holding a glass of something, a wide smile spread across your face, your eyes crinkled from laughter. You didn’t like the photograph however your friend convinced you that you looked nice in it and that would Price would appreciate receiving it whilst deployed.
Kissing the back of the envelope like usual before posting it you walked back to your house continuing with your day.
𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟
A few days went by, the anxiety of not hearing from Price was always bad but you managed to cope clinging onto the thought knowing he would contact you when he could.
Sitting in your kitchen writing something on your laptop your phone began buzzing violently beside you.
Unknown number
You pressed the green button.
“Hello?”
“Hiya hun, it’s John.”
“John!”
You practically squealed at the excitement and relief of just hearing his voice crackle through the phone line.
“Can’t speak for long but I just wanted to check in.”
“Everything’s okay over here, I’m missing you.”
“Believe me I miss you too, you looked lovely in that photo you sent.”
A warm feeling doused your cheeks, a rosy tint covering them.
“You think so? I wasn’t sure. My friend said I looked nice so.”
“Don’t be stupid, Look at you. It’s nice to have a proper photo of you near me, not one just through a bloody screen.”
He chuckled gruffly.
A beep rang through the phone before John sighed so loud you heard it through the jumbled line.
“I’ve got to go hun, I’ll call as soon as I can. I love you.”
“Stay safe, I love you.”
With that the line was hung up. You placed your phone down on the table, returning your focus to your laptop trying not to let the anxiousness around John swallow you whole.
𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟
John was gearing up for his next mission, after he had strapped his vest on he reached around for his helmet. Lifting up the heavy piece of equipment he placed it on his head, lowering the night vision goggles over his eyes before something fluttered out catching his eye. He bent over to retrieve it realising the Polaroid photo you had sent him had slipped out the hiding place in his helmet. He tucked it back in safely before continuing with preparation.
He liked keeping you with him, even if he would never admit he carries your picture round with him.
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witchthewriter · 1 day
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𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐓𝐚𝐬𝐤 𝐅𝐨𝐫𝐜𝐞 & 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐧𝐬
a/n: crossover that I really wanted to do. I've used dragons from every timeline.
gif cred: @gameofthronesdaily.
ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ | ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ ᴵᴵ
I wanted to make this as simple as possible, so I'm not going into backgrounds or Houses or the wheres, whos and whys. But if you'd like me to make backstories for them, let me know in my inbox!
(but p.s. I can already see Kyle being a Velaryon Prince and Simon a Targaryen because of their natural features.)
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𝐉𝐨𝐡𝐧 𝐏𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐞 | 𝑴𝒆𝒍𝒆𝒚𝒔
There's something very regal about John - he holds himself with dignity and grace. He walks with pride and knows his rank/his place. Because he's earnt it.
Meleys, who was once known as the quickest dragon in Westeros, also holds herself the exact same way John does.
She is the Red Queen, vicious, fierce and unyielding. She is royalty - looks it too.
I'm not quite sure she'd like a male rider - there would have to be a lot of winning her over. All her other riders have been female, and very bold. Yet, when Meleys saw the bravery of John, she allowed him to mount her.
But the two of them together would be an absolute force to be reckoned with. Intelligence mixed with tactics, and planning - they would soon become one of the most feared rider and mount in history.
𝐊𝐲𝐥𝐞 𝐆𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐤 | 𝑺𝒊𝒍𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒘𝒊𝒏𝒈
Known by a lot of positive traits, the first one being: understanding her responsibilities. Silverwing is the perfect dragon.
Great with people, friendly, and elegant. She knows when eyes are on her.
In the same way that Kyle can make a friend wherever he is. People find him very charming.
Both are great at socialising. This reflects how a dragonrider usually has similar traits to their mount.
Know their duties, but also know when enough is enough. They don't let others walk all over them.
𝐒𝐢𝐦𝐨𝐧 𝐑𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐲 | 𝑽𝒆𝒓𝒎𝒊𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓
Ooh boy, okay so these two bonded over being grumpy and moody.
While Vermithor used to be the mount of one of Westerosi's greatest Kings, I think he would like Simon a whole lot more.
Simon, who would never make him do anything Simon wouldn't do himself.
Both of them hate too much company.
And the only way to truly get away from people is in the air.
Vermithor might be considered an old man, but he's still got that passion within him, and damn anyone who says what he can and cannot do
The pair could be gone for weeks. Only relying on one another for company, aiding each other in getting food and Vermithor being wonderful at finding bodies of water.
Although they do usually go to the same places now.
Sometimes Simon forgets how formidable Vermithor is - and that in the past anyone who approached him would burn to death by his flame.
But really Simon only sees a big lizard with wings who snores when he sleeps and grunts when he's angry. Oh, and watch out for his tail because he will try to knock you over when he's irritated.
𝐉𝐨𝐡𝐧𝐧𝐲 𝐌𝐚𝐜𝐓𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐬𝐡 | 𝑴𝒆𝒓𝒂𝒙𝒆𝒔
Let's gather what we know about Soap: intelligent (obviously, no one in the army reaches that level by being a complete tosser), he's active and ready to be in the field i.e, now the air.
Meraxes is known for being an avid flyer. Her first and only rider, Rhaenys the First, flew her mount so much - some say it was the collective amount of both her brother and sister riding their own beasts.
Johnny is the dragonrider who is constantly scowering for dragon eggs. If he finds them, he cares for them like they're his own children.
Johnny would literally be the Father of Dragons. Would 100% do a Dany and walk into fire to see if the eggs will hatch (don't worry the other boys look out for him and Meraxes would never let him be so stupid as to willingly hurt himself.)
If you have a different opinion I'm more than happy to hear it!
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blingblong55 · 2 days
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Isn't she lovely? -141
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Based on a request: simon riley who is a girls dad and his daughter comes home upset one day and very quiet. it goes on like this for the week but not only does he notice but his friends, the taskforce 141 as they are close with simon's family. they get super worried as she's usually happy and brings light into the room but now she's avoiding eye contact, speaking, and jokes. realize she's being bullied at school and they go to the school to "deal" with the situation and make this whole pink themed tea party to make her feel better. ---- No mentions of reader, dad!ghost, fluff, uncles!141 ----
Task Force 1-4-1 is not just a badass team on the field with all those cruel people but also dads and the best uncles any kid could ask for. It's funny, they always joked about those stupid dates they were set up on or the way one of them was getting married and as the years go by they all retire one by one, finding themselves becoming one big family.
Today, at their monthly family dinner, Simon and his lovely wife find themselves hosting the dinner. Their two youngest kids running around with their cousins and Soap's wife, the most energetic aunt of all. "Where's the little one?" Price asks as the oldest child of the group was nowhere in the home. Usually, she'd sit near her uncles and they'd pamper her for being the first and favourite of all kids…but don't tell that to the others.
"School, my missus is picking her up," Simon says before taking a sip from his drink.
And once his pretty wife arrives, his daughter follows along. Her greeting to her aunts and uncles was dry, with no usual jokes or funny comments towards Uncle Soap's long mohawk.
"Wow..stop there, kid, come back," Gaz says but the 8-year-old ignores him.
It's fascinating how these so-called cold-hearted men have turned soft for their loves and little loves. So, if one of them is hurt, the guns and bombs come back just for a moment.
"What happened to 'er?" Soap asks Simon's wife and she sighs. "A boy in her class made fun of her leather jacket and pink dress, she's been like this since I picked her up," she says and Simons sighs in frustration. "Who is the kid?" Simon asks and his wife gives him a knowing look. Headmasters kid, of course.
"I'm going after that little shit," Simon says and as he gets up from the sofa, the other men follow along.
"Simon, no, don't do that-" "My daughter is a cool kid, if she wants to wear a leather jacket like her dad and her pink dress then she will and that fuckin' kid won't make her question how cool she is," he says through gritted teeth.
The four men make their way to the school.
"Are they going to hurt a kid?" Price's wife asks. "Maybe the dad, but not a kid," Soap's wife says.
An hour later, more than they should've taken, the burly men come back. A small smile appears on the soft face of Simon's daughter. "Daddy!" She runs to him.
The four men wearing pink tiaras, pink fluffy tutus and even some pink shirt Soap found at the store. "Cool dads wear pink," the shirt says and although they were tight shirts, their wives have to admit, they look awesome wearing them.
Simon picks his daughter up, "Like my outfit princess?" he kisses her forehead. "It's like mine!" she smiles and Simon nods. "We were jealous that you had to outshine us this way, so…we had to outshine you," he smiles.
"Now, go get your hair up, we'll serve the boring people food and for us five…we'll hold a tea party before dinner," he smiles as he watches his precious daughter's face light up. There she is and her smile.
It was cute and funny, but beautiful enough to have pictures of this moment.
They were truly family men now and that's what anyone would wish for, even if it included tiaras and a sassy uncle.
At a small table, where their knees hit their chest, the four former SAS soldiers sat around, getting served tea and crumpets by a special little princess.
Tags: @liyanahelena @uniquecroissant
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This was @vasyandii's request, believe it or not <3 I adore her
She requested Simon braiding Christine's hair, because he's been practicing with spare rope and I fell in love
They are so disgusting <3
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Ursa Major (Ch. 04)
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It's here! Hope y'all enjoy this chapter. Also, I'll be posting some mood boards this week to go along with it. If you're looking for them, check my title tag: #ursa major by the californicationist.
Thanks for reading! Can't wait to hear your thoughts.
As always, a huge shout out to my amazing alpha reader, @vampirekilmerfic, and my incredible betas, @eclecticgrimlin & @gemmahale. Couldn't live without them!!
Love, Cali ✌️🩷🐻
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konigs-whore · 1 day
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Familiar contact- A John price fic.
Random inspo I had, but hopefully people enjoy it. I stayed up till 7am writing it lol. Might make something out of this but I idk yet.
I have attention span issues so if it veer off, please don’t come at me for it. I’ve skimmed over it, but there’s probably some things I missed and grammatical mistakes. Thank you❤️
Word count: 3k+
MDNI- mature themes, language, choking, supernatural beings, dark themes.
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I told myself to be home by midnight, before the hunting hour started. To lock myself safely in my home, surrounded by wards.
Sigils adorned the doors and windows, passed down from generation to generation by witches determined to protect their dwellings.
The eerie stillness of the night was broken by distant howls and screams, while sinister whispers lured unsuspecting victims into their grasp. These cunning creatures preyed upon human greed, offering promises of fulfilling desires before revealing their true, malevolent nature through blood-red eyes hidden within the shadows.
"I'll give you everything you desire"
" You will desire nothing else, if you come closer"
I pay no heed to their twisted tongues, for I know the moment I look their way, or so much as utter a word, I'll be trapped in their soulless hell. Become a mindless creature like them, existing only to feed on souls until the earth turns to dust.
And I refuse to become one.
I pull my coat tighter around me, trying to shield myself from the biting chill. But it seems to seep through every layer, penetrating deep into my bones. Come to us.
The gusts seem to have a life of their own, swirling and dancing around me, almost taunting me with their strength. As I trudge through the forest, trees now look twisted and tortured under the relentless assault of the wind. Nothing on this earth is truly safe from their wicked powers.
Their branches whip back and forth, creaking as if in pain. Some of them have already succumbed, their broken limbs littering the ground like casualties of war. Despite the fierce resistance of the trees, the wind shows no signs of letting up. It blows with such force that I struggle to keep my balance, stumbling over rocks and roots that are hidden beneath a carpet of leaves. My hair is wild and tangled, whipped into a frenzy by the wind's powerful grasp. 
As I stand in the midst of this chaotic scene, I can feel the energy of the whispers pulsating through the air. They seem to be growing more desperate by the second, their voices becoming more urgent and insistent. These phantom entities, longing for control over my soul, reach out towards me with ethereal hands that pass right through my body.
But I refuse to acknowledge them, refusing to give them the power they so desperately crave. Meanwhile, the trees around me struggle against the relentless force of the wind. Some bend and sway gracefully, while others are unable to withstand the intense pressure and break, crashing to the ground with a loud thunderous sound. My heart aches at the sight of these ancient trees, some of them hundreds of years old. Despite surviving in such a harsh environment, they stood tall and thrived, only to be struck down by the dark forces of hell.  Life is truly, cruel.
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My small home, tucked away in the dense forest, comes into view. Smoke curls out of the chimney and warm light spills through the windows, creating a comforting glow. Thick moss clings to the weathered stone walls, leading up to the old black roof. A protective barrier of sturdy stone surrounds my home, making it feel like a fortress. My pace quickens as I approach, eager to escape the eerie whispers and relentless winds that seem to follow me. But as I near my house, all sounds of nature cease and an ominous silence settles over the land. My steps falter as my eyes narrow, scanning for any signs of danger.
Suddenly, a swirling mist materializes to my right, coalescing into the form of a tall, muscular man. Curled horns protrude from his head and his bright red eyes lock onto mine with malicious intent. My heart races as I realize he is a demon - not just any demon, but one of great power and influence. I recognize him from my extensive research on the seven gates of hell - standing before me is none other than John Price himself, ruler and master of all seven gates.
In a deep, smooth voice with a British accent, he sneers at me with a wicked grin. "Well hello there, little witch," he says mockingly as he takes slow steps towards me. Fear courses through my body like ice water. Why does his voice sound so familiar? That nickname….
“ John” I say, somehow holding my voice steady despite the tremble in my body. my hands twitch at my sides, ready to defend myself. “ what do you want?” I hiss. but he just smiles even wider, tilting his head at me. 
“ Can’t I visit a lonely little witch? whom lives by herself in the forest”. He steps closer. 
“ no, you cannot. I have no business with you, demon” 
A sharp gasp escapes my lips as he materializes in front of me. He leans down, bringing us eye-to-eye, his intense gaze locking with mine. The scent of smoke and fresh pine fills my nostrils, mingling together in an intoxicating combination. His long fingers, slender yet strong, grasp my chin firmly yet gently, his thumb lightly caressing my cheek. His touch, it feels familiar too. But why?
“ Been watching you, darling. A nasty little witch you are” His breath fans my face, our close proximity jolting my senses back into place. 
I grit my teeth, taking another cautious step back as his hands fall from my face. His amusement is evident in the glittering mischief in his eyes and the sly curve of his lips. I feel a surge of electricity tingling at my fingertips, slowly spreading up my arm until bolts of raw energy flicker and dance beneath my skin. With a few whispered chants, I channel the power and unleash a dazzling bolt of lightning towards him. The air crackles with anticipation as the bright beam strikes the earth where he stands, sending up a cloud of dust in its wake. The ground trembles beneath me, humming with residual energy. 
my eyes narrow as the dust fades away, and there he stands. a cloud of mist surrounding him in a protective barrier.  This grimy little bitch.
“ Now darling, that wasn’t very nice”
“ Oh really? thought i’d give you a proper welcome” I sneer, my fingers twitching again. my mind reeling for a plan.  My grandmother never said anything about defending myself against the king of hell. What the hell am I supposed to do.
The mist around him disappears into the earth. He crosses his arms.
" Well you could do me" he retorts and I frown. Get out of my head!
I send another bolt his way, and he deflects it with a flick of his wrist. John's laughter echoes through the forest, sending shivers down my spine.
" What do you want John. I haven't broken any laws, nor did I summon you".
His eyes gleam with amusement as he takes a leisurely stroll around me, his steps echoing in the unnatural silence that surrounds us.
"I do love a feisty one," he muses, his voice smooth like silk yet carrying an underlying edge of danger. "But I'm not here for your misdeeds, dear witch. No, I am here for something far more intriguing."
My heart pounds in my chest as I try to maintain a façade of calmness, even as his presence threatens to overwhelm me. "Then what is it that you seek from me, demon?" I demand, my voice steady despite the fear gnawing at the edges of my mind.
John Price's smile widens, revealing a row of perfectly straight and gleaming white teeth that seem to glint in the dim light. As he approaches me, his footsteps fall with an air of confidence and authority. He stops in front of me, tilting his head to reveal the sharp angles of his jawline beneath his beard, and the way the moonlight catches in his dark hair.
"I have come to claim you, little witch," he purrs, his voice low and smooth like velvet. I can feel his warm breath on my skin as he speaks.
"Claim me? What the fuck are you talking about?" I snap back, my anger boiling over at his bold words.
"Your coven, centuries ago, promised me a bride if I granted them power," he explains, his eyes never leaving mine. "Twenty generations from then, a woman will be born with powers stronger than any witches before her. And only she will be worthy of becoming my bride." A knowing smirk tugs at the corners of his mouth as he finishes his declaration.
And if I could've sent every last bit of my powers away, I would have on spot. Simply bag them and ship them off to the next person.
The earth trembles beneath my feet, my anger coursing through me like molten lava. My eyes blaze with a fiery red intensity as I bring my hand up to meet his chest. The wind responds to my rage and strengthens, pushing him back with a forceful gust. He stumbles several feet before landing gracefully on his feet, a smug smirk plastered across his face. I grit my teeth, wishing desperately to wipe that lecherous expression off of his creepy features. "My, my," he purrs, "those eyes are like untamed flames."
He watches me with a mixture of amusement and fascination as I confront him with a strength that surprises even myself. The air crackles with tension as we stand facing each other, a silent battle of wills raging between us. I can feel the power coursing through my veins, a primal energy that demands release.
With a fierce determination, I raise my hands towards the sky, calling upon the elements to aid me in this dire moment. The wind howls in response, whipping my hair around my face like a dark shroud. The trees sway in a wild dance, their leaves rustling in a chorus of support.
John Price's eyes widen with recognition as he senses the ancient magic surging around me. In a swift motion, he raises his own hands, summoning shadows that twist and coil at his command. Darkness engulfs him as he prepares to strike back with his formidable powers. No, he’d never hurt me. But how do I know that?
Emotions wage a war inside me.
But I am ready for him. With a primal scream that echoes through the forest.
With a fierce cry, I unleash a bolt of lightning so powerful that it reverberates through the earth, leaving my body trembling with its force. The smell of ozone fills the air as electricity crackles around us, sending shockwaves into the ground and trees. And then suddenly, I am flying backwards, my back slamming against a rough bark of a tree. The impact knocks all the air from my lungs and I land on all fours, gasping for breath.
Through the haze of pain and confusion, I see John lying on the ground, his body smoking from the electric blast. Despite my own discomfort, anger surges within me. I grit my teeth as I struggle to stand, my muscles protesting from the jarring impact. God that hurts like a bitch.
But even as I rise, determined to keep fighting, I hear him chuckling. It is a sinister sound that sends shivers down my spine. My eyes narrow as I face him, ready to take him down. As if I could, I know I’m not strong enough.
"That's what I need," he groans as he stands, brushing off his clothes with an air of nonchalance. His red eyes have returned to their normal state, but they seem even darker now - like staring into a void.
"You want more?" I growl, raising my hands to strike again. But he raises his own in a mocking surrender. "I don't wish to fight you, little witch," he says with a sly smile. "A man should never harm a woman."
His words are like a slap in the face to me. This man is supposed to be the king of Hell, yet he claims to be against hitting women? I scoff in disbelief.
"Oh please," I retort. "Don't expect me to believe that for a second."
He shrugs as if it doesn't matter to him one way or another. And then suddenly, mist begins to form around my feet and up over my body. It spreads like a thick fog, rendering me immobile. Panic sets in as I struggle to break free.
"Let me go!" I shout, squeezing my eyes shut as I try to force myself out of the misty grip. But it seems to have a will of its own, keeping me firmly in place.
" I can't do that, love". He appears behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist. I hiss at the contact, his touch sending jolts through my skin.
“Now sleep, my love” He whispers. and I curse myself, as my eyes start to grow heavy. “w-what”. 
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I am jolted into consciousness, my body drenched in a cold sweat. My mind pulsates with a throbbing ache, as if being relentlessly pounded by a massive block of stone. With wide eyes, I frantically scan my unfamiliar surroundings.
It is then that I notice John seated in the corner of the room, engrossed in a book. His calm demeanor reveals no trace of concern or surprise, almost as if abducting people is just another routine task for him.
The audacity of this man! I want to strangle him.
"Where the hell have you taken me?" I shout at him, but he simply ignores me. Fine, if we're playing games now.
I curl my index finger and softly whisper a few words. Suddenly, his chair bursts into flames, scorching his backside. He springs up from his seat, dropping his book and grabbing his now charred rear end. As he curses and flails about, I smirk at him.
"Are you going to keep ignoring me?" I mock with a smug tone.
The fiery gaze of John meets my own as he casually pats his still-smoking ass. My questioning eyes shift to the discarded book on the ground, my raised eyebrow expressing confusion. "A cook book? Is that truly your book of choice?" I prod. He responds with an eye roll, snatching the book from the floor in annoyance.
Maybe I'm unhinged for being so casual at the moment, but my head hurts too much to really care. I'll unpack this after ibuprofen.
“You insufferable woman, you ruined my favorite armchair,” John seethes, pointing to the charred remains. I roll my eyes, unimpressed by his dramatics. You just kidnapped a witch and you're over here fretting over a chair.
“Take me back home,” I demand, standing my ground.
“No,” he replies firmly, a hint of anger in his voice. What is wrong with this man?
“Yes, I refuse to be your unwilling wife,” I argue, climbing out of bed and trailing after him as he storms into his closet. He pulls out a pair of unburned pants.
“You don’t have a say in this matter,” he declares. I cross my arms in defiance, scoffing at his arrogance.
“Because forcefully taking a wife against her will always make for a happy marriage,” I retort sarcastically.
My cheeks flush with embarrassment when he casually removes his burnt pants, standing only in his undergarments. "Jesus!" I exclaim, quickly turning around to face the wall. He chuckles behind me, clearly amused by my discomfort. " Jesus is not here, darling"
oh fuck right off.
I hear the sound of a zipper, followed by his footsteps approaching. I turn around, bumping my nose into his chest. not expecting him to stand so close. “ the hell” I mumble, rubbing my nose.
“ let me see this contract my coven signed. there’s got to be a loophole. I mean, why me? there’s other witches out there”.
I follow him out of the closet. He spins around, pushing me against the wall. I narrow my eyes, lifting a finger to zap his ass when he slowly pushes my finger down. as if I just showed him an ugly photo.
he then places both his hands on either side of my head. “ be a good girl and hush, yeah?”.
his low husky voice sends a shiver down my spine. fuck me, what’s wrong with me.
“ You be a good boy and release me, yeah?” I mock, smiling.
his hand slithers up to my throat, grabbing it tightly. he growls, I feel the rumble in his chest against mine. 
"You wouldn't dare," I gasp, struggling to breathe as his grip tightens around my neck. The fear in my eyes is unmistakable, a raw and primal emotion that courses through my veins like poisoned venom.
"Try me," he snarls, his voice low and dangerous. I can see the darkness within him, the deep-seated hatred and anger that has been simmering inside him for centuries. So much for not harming women, huh? bipolar asshole.
And then, without warning, he lets go of my throat. There's a strange mixture of relief and disappointment that washes over me as he steps back. He crosses his arms over his chest, his eyes firmly fixed on me.
" All I want is for you to accept your fate and become my wife. I want no one else but you" His voice is calm, almost soothing, but there's an underlying edge to it.
His words prick at something in my brain, erupting pain through my skull.
I glare fiercely at him, mustering all my hate into my eyes. As if that alone could poof him into dust. " Fuck you, you crazy bipolar demon"
He shakes his head, walking away from me. leaving me standing against the wall, mind reeling and grasping for any ration response.
I mean, not even ten hours ago I was freely walking through the forest on my own, collecting herbs. And now, I'm stuck god knows where with a demon who claims I'm his bride.
But why does it feel like I know him?
My head pounds, sharp pain piercing my temples. I cry out, grabbing the sides of my head as I crouch down. Whispers ringing in my ears, the voices of my mother and grandmother.
As fragmented images race through my thoughts, I am transported back in time. Current reality intertwines with hazy flashbacks, creating a tumultuous whirlwind of emotions. In one vivid recollection, I am young and standing in my mother's bedroom. Her screams echo off the walls as she fiercely argues with my grandmother.
Tears stream down her cheeks, "I will take her away, far from his reach." With a forceful shove, she pushes my grandmother out of the way and storms into the closet. Mom, why are you crying.
Overwhelmed by the intense scene before me, I tremble and cry silently. Despite my limited understanding at the time, I know that something is gravely amiss, and it involves me. "There's not a place in heaven or hell where he won't find her, Eylean. Our ancestors made the deal, and there's nothing we can do to stop it" My grandmother argues, chasing after my mother.
Come outside, sweetheart. A voice whispers in my head, gentle and comforting. Come to me.
I do as the voice says, running out of my mothers room. My little legs struggling to keep up with the fast pace, threatening to misstep. I could feel my heart pounding in my chest as I ran, adrenaline driving me forward. The sound of the back door slamming echoed in my ears, a reminder of the argument that had just taken place, the booming voices inside. Tears blurred my vision as I stumbled towards the stone fence, desperate to get away from the chaos inside.
Why, why me?
With trembling hands, I gripped onto the rough edges of the stones and pulled myself up and over the fence. My clothes snagged against the sharp edges, leaving small tears and scrapes on my skin. But I don't care. All I want is to reach my safe haven. As I reached the other side, my feet hit the soft grass and I took off running again. The cool air brushed against my tear-stained cheeks as I made my way towards the massive red oak tree. It stood tall and proud, its branches reaching towards the sky as if welcoming me with open arms. With shaky breaths, I collapsed against the trunk of the tree. The vines that twisted around it provided a sense of comfort, almost like they were hugging me. I wrapped my arms around my knees and buried my face in my legs, letting out loud sobs as I tried to calm my racing thoughts and emotions.
The wind started to howl, the force of it whipping through my hair and stinging my cheeks. I could feel tears sliding down my face as I tried to make sense of what was happening. The wind calmed, replaced by the sudden cold chill in my bones. Raising my head slowly, I glanced around through my blurry vision. Through the mist that had settled in front of me, I saw a figure emerge. It was a man, his large build crouching down in front of me. As he placed a comforting hand on my knee, I caught a glimpse of his bright blue eyes. They were like pools of clear water, sparkling and drawing me in.
Despite my fear and confusion, I couldn't help but gaze into them, feeling strangely captivated. A small smile tugged at the corners of the man's mouth, as if he were trying his best to offer comfort. His voice, deep and soothing, was one that I recognized from earlier. The sound of his accent brought a slight sense of familiarity. He spoke softly, reassuring me, "It's okay sweetheart. You're safe here." But I couldn't stop the sobs that wracked my body, my mind still reeling from the events that had just unfolded. "But they're fighting," I hiccupped, shaking my head. "Mommy says a bad man is going to get me." My words came out barely audible through my tears, but the man seemed to understand.
He moves to sit down beside me, our body’s brushing against each other.
“ I’m already here, little witch”
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Graves with a tomboy reader.
So fucking annoying. The opposite of the type of woman Graves' mother told him to look for.
Why can't she just act like her gender? The short hair, the baggy clothes. What sort of man would even be attracted to all that?
The sweet face and lips. Those hidden curves. Seeing her pajamas are nothing more than a thin t-shirt and boxers.
Graves certainly isn't attracted to such a woman, right? He certainly isn't swayed by her hips or smile. Especially that bratty attitude.
OHHH I LOVE ME SOME GOOD ENEMIES TO LOVERSSSS!!! (also i put he enlisted at 24 so idk if that’s accurate it’s just for silly! i also mentioned christianity just bc they r southern but it is not to force any religious beliefs!) Phillip Graves x civilian tomboy reader
Phillip was a mamas boy, FOR SURE. She had been washing his laundry for him till he enlisted (he enlisted at 24..) Now being mamas perfect little boy he listened to her beck and call. “Remember, you need to marry a nice christian girl,” she would say softly as she washed his blonde hair in the bathtub, “a good girl who can cook and clean and treat you like the amazing man you are!” she would playfully say as she blew bubbles in his face. He had always remembered her advice, sticking to it whenever he got with women. Until he met, you.
You were against all of his mothers advice. You were a friend of a friend, a beautiful woman with an outspoken and passionate mind, which to most people was an amazing gift…but not to phillip. He hated how boyish you dressed, rarely seeing you in skirts or dresses. You were so sassy as well. One day your friend group went to a concert and you wore jeans and a shirt and he spoke slyly “why are you dressed so casually?” You gave him a fiery look “Because i can? Why are you hm?” all of your sly remarks irked him. But he still couldn’t help feeling proud when he made you smile or laugh, he loved staring at your curves and face.
His friends had been having a get together at you and your roommates place, phillip had stayed late to get free booze from the cooler. as he was fishing modelos out from the icy bottom of the cooler, he saw you waltz into the kitchen. You had obviously just woken up from sleep, you wore. tank top and shorts. TIGHT shorts. Phillip couldn’t stop staring at your body “why don’t you wear more clothes like that? you look,” he walked up to you before leaving the house to whisper in your ear “you look good.” After that interaction you had both been contemplating what the hell you were feeling.
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faverec · 9 hours
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NOTE
if you do not allow your works to be recommended please msg me or send me an ask and i’ll remove it immediately. ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀
ONE SHOTS :
MONSTER - @rowarn ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀
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2024 faverec. | do not translate, copy, steal or claim my work as your own and do not repost it anywhere.
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simp-ly-writes · 10 hours
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Suits, Ties, and Thus Spies (pt.4)
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Pairing: Spy!Task Force 141 x Handler!Reader
Summary: Taking notes off the recent missions and getting pushed into another. More intensive training has your new relationships straining beyond what you imagined. You can only hope that they all will be with you for when the actual mission starts.
Warnings:4000~ words, light swearing, blood, violence, torture. A/N: a bit of a longer one stuffed with drama... Masterlist | Taglist | edited.
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10:00 AM | Autumn | Taylor Tailors Headquarters 
Stuffed inside the private vehicle. Price was gripping the dividing wall in front of him as the car drifted slightly at the slurry forming beneath the tires. Winter had decided to come at a sudden and the team captain was restless not being the one responsible for the vehicle. A voice came over the intercom- only further irritating the man. “I do assure you agents-in-training that I have been driving for the company longer than many of your careers. Oh,” the woman laughs out, bright red lipstick reflecting in the windshield as she soars down the driveway and into the parking garage. “Stop pissing in your pants now, we are almost there- promise.” 
Riley shakes his head, leaning against the window as Johnny bounces across from him, bumping Price's shoulder repeatedly. Gaz inspects his suit, wondering where you all were headed- he was praying for something warm but from all the seemingly random items you forced them to back within their bags… he was still quite unsure of it all. 
The door is soon thrown open, Riley turns slowly- glaring into an eye-widened surprise to see Samantha who only sharpens her smile, lips turning into a thin smile. Her black hair shimmers under the artificial lighting as the car honks-locked. The group trailing and presenting their IDs to the scanner, the front desk seemingly empty as a phone rings softly from behind the wood. Johnny makes a joke reaching towards the phone before Samantha turns sharply back on her heel, tea and muffin in hand within the blink of an eye- slapping his hand away with a wink. “Hello Agent Whitby-yes. They have just arrived, I’ll send them your way in just a moment.”
Turning her head upwards, she greets them all with a handshake before another team moves their bags into the locker room. Samantha's heels click against the tiles as she ascends the stairs. Still stunned by the headquarters interior, Price bumps into Kyle who can only smile before admiring the tree sculptures of fighters into what appears to be an artificial sunroom. Whitby stands in the centre, his shirt misplaced as he fights off the AI people that swarm him. Their pixels crumble towards the floor as they are defeated just as another spawns in his spot. 
Samantha claps her hands, the heat leaving the room as an artificial voice speaks of Whitby's score. Smiling as Samantha hands him the muffin, she takes a sip of her tea- eyeing the way his shoulders rise and fall before turning and smiling at the rest of the men. “Have a good session you all, I will be at the front desk for the next few hours if you need anything.” The door softly clicking closed behind her just as the air conditioning comes in and benches emerge from the floors. 
Taking a seat while drying himself off, Whitby motions a hand over, “Handler D has sent me the reports from our last mission with some personal notes… nothing to be ashamed of really- just the things we do a bit differently here.” Snapping his fingers, scans of cards appear in front of the task forces faces as they read through the notes and look through the compiled footage. Like a sports play-by-play little arrows and sticky notes are displayed all over- highlighting the next steps and offering compliments for others. 
The task force all nods over each word as Whitby stands, the screens disappearing just as the sunroom scene displays once more. Heat enters the room as sweat begins to drip from John's brow. “We are going to Greece for the next mission, heat is going to be one of our biggest enemies. Get used to sweating and to drinking wherever you can while out on patrol for hours. Mission file states that our princess has been kidnapped from her guarded tower- guards are shitting themselves- running about like little headless bitches and we are gonna solve all… or well most of their issues.” 
“Alright!” Soap cheers, tearing off his suit-jacket and rolling up his sleeves as the rest follow suit. Whitby stalks around the room, adjusting their position independently and as a team throughout the various planned scenarios. He keeps looking at seemingly a normal wall, making multiple hand signals as the course changes. Kyle narrows his eyes, seeing through to a control room as Doctor Charlotte Derby stands, clipboard in hand as she whispers commands to the operator. The lady smiles and copies, mouth forming a smile as laughs seemingly are shared in the room before Kyle is slipping on the floor beneath him, slipping on the rain that started to fall within the room. 
Shrugging his shoulders he continues to race between halls as the rest of the boys improve upon their communication with the new tools they have on themselves. Time slipping by as late lunch emerges. “Are we going to be seeing Handler Dee at any time today?” Price asks, taking a bite of his meal within one of the restaurants the base provided. Whitby wipes his mouth clean with the provided serviette, taking a sip of his drink before clearing his throat. “Potentially, they are in a fitting currently- are there any concerns?” The agent questions, raising a brow and meeting each of their eyes. 
Slapping a hand on his shoulder, Johnny shakes his head before diving back into his meal. Whitby shuffles his suit back into place, shimmying in his seat before motioning Charlotte to join them. Standing himself up- offering the lady the booth seat, he pulls up a chair from an empty table, sitting at the end before conversation settles upon the files the Doctor spreads across the table. “You all made wonderful improvements, I’m sure Handler Dee is smiling ear to ear at the news from Samantha's call. There are still some mental tests I have to finish with you all today before we can let you board that plane tonight but you should all be proud of yourselves nonetheless.” She finishes with a bright smile, sneaking a bit of Whitby's food with a wink as he playfully glares back before motioning for her to hand him his drink. 
The group revolves into their own conversations as Whitby curses softly underneath his breath, “I do apologise everyone but work is calling, I wish you all a good start to your mission-”
“You’re not coming with us?” Simon asks, addressing the group for the first time today as Whitby has to do a double take, ensuring that he did in fact get a response from the man after hours of trying to spark conversation. “No sadly, though I do look great in a Swimsuit-” Charlotte smacks his shoulder. Taking the offensive hand, Whitby leans over, kissing her on the cheek with a cheesy smile before bowing and leaving out the door. 
John stacks everyone's plates just as Charlotte pays the bill and directs the group over to a private lounge. Papers already wait in a stack, the grandfather clock in the corner ticks lightly as Soap swears to see the eyes of a painting move in his peripheral vision. “Alright, you all have two hours to complete this basic intelligence quiz and I have the languages and mathematics set up for us till the dinner hour. I will be sitting just off to the side here if you have any questions or concerns, good luck you all.” 
Whitby quietly enters the fitting room, standing off to the side as he tilts his head- a small smile forming in his eyes before growing as he takes in your new uniform. Cream coloured with a linen dress shirt underneath, you are a cloud drifting its way towards his navy blue suit embroidered with small floral designs only seen underneath the warm lighting. An assistant shakes their head mocking as you step off the pedestal, making a playful runway walk towards the agent just as he picks up your hand, giving you a twirl before pulling you into his chest. 
“You look amazing,” he mumbles before pulling away, still holding your hand. Thomas and Evan wave their sewing materials behind you, signaling for your return as Whitby helps you to stand back up. He takes a seat in front of you, setting a timer on his watch, his head resting against his fist, arm following chairs to the edge in a 90 degree angle. “Anything outstanding to report,” you make small talk, watching as their hands masterfully work the fabric and smile when they remember all the little details you voiced in passing throughout the years. Another favorite to add to the closet, you think to yourself. 
“Nothing quite, love. They all served well- more field time will show everything I’m sure of it. Charlotte said their first written test results are coming out well for not going through our overly formal training. How many missions do we have with them again?” His knee starts to bounce as your eyes snap over to the movements, leading up to his glass-framed eyes as he raises an eyebrow, tilting his head to the side in a cat-like motion- challenging you silently to a staring contest. 
Both your eyes begin to burn, competition brewing under each of your skins as Jason coughs, the head tailor looking bored at the exchange before signaling the assistant to take their breaks as he picks the work back up. “One more after this one and then Laswell and I are even,” you state, blinking rapidly just as Wihtby moves his glasses to rub his eyes. The room falls silent before Whitby stands, turning on the record player as soft classical music starts to surround the room. Humming to the strings, Whitby makes an exit- continuing his performance down the hall and towards the offices for his own mission. 
You watch his exit- eyes softening as a cough from behind has you rolling your head back as Jason squeezes your nose as you scrunch it up in distaste. “What was that for?” you question. “Say yes to that poor man already, you two have been dragging this charade on for a decade too long- who knows what will come first for you both, a new partner, another promotion, death?-”
“Jason!” you hiss out, “Please, not just before a mission- can’t have that especially on something like this. Its our future head of state for fucks sake!” you curse out just as Jason trims the last bit of string from your shoulder, marking the project complete. “Apologies, Handler but I just want to see my two friends happy in a job where temporary is the definition.” You nod your head in response, “Thank you for the suit,” you add in a lightened tone as Jason sends you an apologetic smile- waving as you leave the room and he begins to back up the supplies. 
6:00 PM | Autumn | Taylor Tailors Headquarters 
“HANDLER!” a voice shouts, your shoulders jumping up-tensing as you turn on your foot like a robot. “Handler D!” The voice shouts again, footsteps rapid as they turn around the corner, Handler Jacobs nears, a tower of folders underneath his arm, his tie over his shoulder as you help him to address his appearance- taking the papers from underneath his arm as you both make your way towards the lobby. 
“The reports from my side before I send it all over to the higher-ups. Would you mind if I stole the other 3 or so agents you have out in Russia? There has been an uprising in France, some internet criminals rising havac and…” You raise your palm as the Handlers rambles soon fall short. “Yes, Handler,” you state with a smile- eyes going wide as he pulls you into an energetic squeeze. You wince from the impact, the files flooding the floors beneath as you groan out, eyes searching the mess beneath as he lets you go. Slipping on the files in a daze and back down the hall. 
Sighing to yourself, you begin to work through the documents, leveling them back into a stack as a group of footsteps come from behind. You curse, cheeks firing red as you turn around, straightening your hair and kicking another folder off to the side, your eyes flash with horror as your newest agents stop in their tracks, looking at your off-guard appearance with curiosity before snapping towards the mess underneath you. 
Without a word or mocking comment, the men get to work, helping you to pick up the remaining files as Gaz helps you to arrange them back into the appropriate places. “How’d things get like this?” Simon questions as you blink up at the man kneeling beside you, handing you another bundle of papers as you blush in embarrassment. “An over-excited Handler.” Is all you say with a huff, beginning to stand. John rushes to place a hand on the banister above your head. You duck from the movement, standing up more quickly before looking at its placement. Sending him a warm smile, he only nods in reply as Johnny and Kyle split the papers, walking them over to the mailboxes with you. 
‘Thank you all,” you comment while singing off on the last document within the office before the parcel goes through the shoot and up towards the street level. “S’nothing,” Johnny states, eyes crinkling. “Coffee, anyone?” you ask the group once seeing the time on your wrist, a series of tired mumbles sound within the room as you make your way towards the nearby break room. 
Samantha stands in the room, leaning against the water fountain before standing to attention at your presence. “At ease,” you comment as she moves to sit down at an empty table. You take the orders of the room just as Simon helps you to bring the rest of the drinks over as you all sit. With hands wrapped around the warm mug's surface, you lean back in your chair, ankles crossing underneath the table as Samantha starts to read through her messages on her phone- seemingly lost in her own world. “So…” you begin, looking at each tired face with remorse. This is only the beginning…
“How was this morning's training? You think you are alright to finish the rest of the planned material tonight?” you ask softly before taking a sip of your drink, humming contently as the warm liquid floods your senses. “There’s more?” Kyle asks softly, voice carrying strain as Johnny groans beside him, having used all his energy this morning he leans his head into Simon's shoulder who grunts yet does not shove the man off. 
“Well, yes.” You state, “And the most damning of them all unfortunately. I will be walking you all through our captive training. How to live through waterboarding, to not suffocate in toxins. How to find your way outside of restraints in multiple positions and live to see another day,” you perform hands fling off your cup and into the air as you make grand gestures. Samantha looks up from her phone, as if seeing a ghost she rapidly shakes her head. “Good luck you all,” horror flashing through her eyes, “the utter SHIT you experience in there…” she shakes her head, seemingly unable to finish the sentence before standing up quicking and darting out of the room before you could comfort the woman. 
John looks to the group, trying to hide his growing worry as he scratches at his bread before looking back at you staring right through him. Placing a light hand on top of his formed fist upon the table, it uncurls and you pull your hand away soon after. “I will be with you all the whole time.” You state, eyes hollow as you hold out better than Samantha, everyone had to go through this training eventually- yet it stayed with you forever. 
You watch from behind the impact and bullet-proof glass. The room slowly starts to fill with water, you listening to their heart monitors flooding your room, raging above the waves. John is already directly out orders, looking around for an escape. The lights flicker, the electrical starting to become enveloped by the quick rising water before turning black. Fighting to open a case underneath the water, Simon rips out a flashlight, tossing it over towards Kyle who turns it on, pressing it in his mouth as he dives under, scanning the floors for a potential secret door. 
He emerges as the rest of the taskforce now treads water- the level almost reaching the ceiling. Each taking one last breath, they twist and turn, eyes wide and burning from the growing pressure. You step back from the glass as John swims up to it, trying to peer into the room as you make your way outside, greeting Charlotte who stands with warm towels ready for the next event. You both mentally count towards ten, the sounds of the glass shattering, the water pouring out underneath the door as you stand cold-faced and unmoving.
The boys stumbled out into the hall, adrenaline still pumping through their ears, their bodies shivering as they ran over to you, gripping a towel around their shoulders. Yet what you don’t expect is for Kyle to hug you seemingly out of the view before dropping you just as quickly. John watches them interacting softly as Simon stands behind him observing quietly as well. Johnny cheers out in celebration once realizing everyone is safe before slinging a still wet arm around the Doctor's shoulders as he bounces up and down. “You had done well to complete the first trial,” you speak in a monotone form that has Simon peering down at you, trying to crack your exterior yet you remain unrelenting. Understanding of your pivotal role during these times just as your past mentors have done so for you. 
“On to the next,” Charlotte announces, stepping away from Johnny before breaking a small shake of his shoulder in congratulations. A series of small separate rooms greet you, tears begin to well in your eyes from the horrors that you had witnessed. Shaking your head, you turn and motion for each man to pick a room as the door locks shut behind them before climbing up a ladder. Through the intercom you ask everyone to sit in the chair. You hear them yell out, former trainees from earlier in the day stand in the observation deck, looking down from the rafters and through the clear ceilings that you walk upon, observing them each, picking up a series of gas masks last minute, distributing a few to Charlotte before starting.  
The chair locks various restraints around their legs, arms, thighs and chest. Various different locks and chains of varying weights tug them into place. Your voice is shaking, “Your goal is to exit the room that will be flooded with gas. I am unable to enter the room while this session is in progress by any means- even in the face of potential death. Good luck, agents.” 
A loud horn sounds, the boxes flooded with red light as the soul illuminate, your grip your hands into fists as Charlotte stands across from you looking down, face falling and covering her features as she watches Simons eyes go wide as he stares up into her own before twisting himself in the chains forcefully, shouting as they allow for minimal movement. John's hands were shaking, the gradual lack of oxygen was going to kick in another 25 minutes and no one had made much progress. Kyle had unlocked the most- his and Soap’s bombs training seemed to provide the upperhead- one of their hands unlocked as they raced to unlock the other. 
A click can be heard, Simon had forced his wrist from underneath a series of chains, you wince at the blood and bruising of his fingertips- his gloves seemingly cut open as blood floods his suits fabric. He fumbles for a piece of his belt as you smile encouragingly down at him, happy that he remembered the hidden set of tools found within the buckle and by the sounds of Johnny's sharp intake of breath- he remembered as well. Looking down at your watch once more, you jump, the glass banging as each one looks up at the sudden noise. 10 minutes remain, Charlotte now grips your hand in her own, watching as the timer counts down.
A loud crash is heard, John is now laying sideways, his chair tipped over as blood seeps from his temple. Skull smashes into a chain just as he manages to kick his shoes off, shimmying off the chains of his feet and loops them around the legs of his chair, grunting before emitting a powerful shout as he tries to force himself back upright. Chair rocking back and forth as your drum begins to sound. Kyle had managed to unlock the remaining chains around his waist as he now stands, one left around his ankle yet he remains unbothered- repeatedly throwing his chair against the glass above- his door unable to open. 
Your eyes become cloudy, imagining yourself in his situation when you were in training. Your breathing becomes shallow, your palms sweating, dropping your tools rust as it runs down from your forehead, mixing in with your eyes as they burn. You cannot hear over your blood as it becomes less of escaping the room but of your panic instants. The drumming becomes loudly as you rush away from the glass as it shatters, you stumble back as Charlotte manages to hold you upright. Throwing the chair into the corner, the siren sounds and gas begins to rise from the floors and up into the air of the concealed rooms. Multiple trainees from the rafters above have fled the scene, throwing up in worry or to try and sleep away their own injuries.
A chain can be heard rustling above the siren, flinging over the side of the enclosure as Kyle pulls himself upwards. As soon as both his knees touch the glass, you are rushing over- slipping a gas mask over his face before Charlotte and a few other scientists pull him away to the final trail. You soon pull your own mask from resting on your neck. 
Much to your surprise, Simon is next out, he rips his mask to above his nose, taking in deep breaths before choking as the gas floods the space - condensing. You help him to strap on the mask just as another assistant tears him away from your grasp, out watch as he turns around to look at you with a panicked gaze before the door slams closed behind them both. In three more minutes, the remaining men would collapse from the lack of oxygen… you looked up into the red lights above, closing your eyes in a prayer before hearing more locks falling to the concrete floors below as you walked off the glass and onto a side stage. Johnny flings himself onto the glass, he does not even feel as it cuts through his skin, body delirious from the gas as his body is carried into the hall. John had two more minutes… you began to count them down, gripping the railing before falling to your knees as tears strained down your cheeks, fogging up your mask. A beep on your watch warned of the gas limit even with your mask on as a group of scientists forcefully removed you from the room as your nails scratched at their arms, you yelled out pleas. Brain seemingly lost to the gas- forgetting all of the formal qualities you were trained to possess for these torturous trials.
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↳ Taglist: @thriving-n-jiving @cringeycookies @lilliumrorum @brokenpieces-72 @ashy-kit @notsaelty @hindi-si-ikay @sleepyycatt @no-lessthan3
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empresskylo · 4 months
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simon ‘ghost’ riley is a light sleeper. he’s so well trained to be on high alert that even when he’s not on duty he wakes at the smallest sound.
sometimes you’ll get up in the middle of the night and he immediately sits up. “you alright?” he slurs.
you make a small sound of discomfort or wiggle a little too much and his head is turning on the pillow, his eyes on you. and he always asks if you’re okay. you’ve told him he’s being silly and sometimes you just have to get up to go to the bathroom, but you gave up on telling him that—he’s adamant on checking on you.
and anytime he wakes up, no matter where the disturbance comes from, he’s looking over to your side of the bed to make sure you’re okay first.
and if you ever do need him in the middle of the night, all you have to do is whisper his name. he opens his eyes almost immediately and instinctively tightens his arm around you. “everythin’ alright?”
and one time you couldn’t sleep. your face was buried in his chest as he clung to you, the soft rumble of his snores letting you know he was knocked out. you didn’t want to wake him, but you were crying. you barely even moved as you teared up into his chest. suddenly, his hands squeezed you tighter. “whats’a matter?” he coos softly.
you tilt your head up to him teary eyed. “i didn’t mean to wake you.”
he clicks his tongue. “tell me what’s wrong, baby.” his hand gently caressing your face, tucking loose strands of hair behind your ear.
and he’s so protective. if you roll over and out of his hands he’s quick to pull you back into his grip. he likes having his hands on you while he’s sleeping. it makes him feel more secure knowing you’re okay.
when you fall asleep together on the sofa, your body pressed to his, his arms are wrapped around your waist, clutching you closely against him. it doesn’t even matter if he’s too warm, he wants you touching him at all times whenever he’s asleep.
it’s gotten to the point where he can barely sleep when he’s not with you. without you safely in his arms, without being able to physically feel you under his fingertips, it continuously wakes him up. he’s lucky to get two hours in a row without waking.
post that inspired this | my cod masterlist
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groguspicklejar · 5 months
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minors dni
König begging insecure reader to go down on her? oh, those two are kindred spirits.
because there's nothing that comes more naturally to him than to show you how beautiful you are. you're vehemently against it, so sure that you'll gross him out and make him leave you like the last guy you've been with.
you haven't been dating König for that long. he's the best boyfriend you could ever ask for. so kind and thoughtful in his way of loving you. and respectful of your boundaries. except maybe until now.
"i won't fuck you with my cock. just—" he's got you back up against the wall, hands on either side of you, eyes wide and desperate. "j—just let me—"
so you try to distract him, veer his attention away from the idea of him putting his mouth on you. but it doesn't work. his hands clamp down on your arms to pull you up when you try to get on your knees and service him instead of the other way around. almost instantly, you realize that you severely underestimated how much he wanted to taste you.
"Kö—" he's already prying your legs apart once you've reluctantly agreed to let him go down on you, gasping for air when he uses his terrifying strength to lift your hips up, throwing both of your legs over his broad shoulders.
any protests you had immediately muddle in your throat when his tongue cards a hot stripe through your folds. he folds your thighs until your knees hit your chest and he just goes to town on you like it's all he was ever made for.
immediately, he's gone. pussydrunk on your taste and completely out of his mind. fingers dent the back of your thighs as he holds you still when you squirm and he's not even doing it on purpose, he's just high on your essence that he instinctively locks your position so he can keep having his meal without any interruptions.
he licks hotly and thoroughly, his tongue wild and erratic between your folds and on your clit. he moans out loud when he sucks on where you're leaking more, tasting you, drinking directly from the source. and it makes him worse.
he draws out your orgasm with wild intent and when it hits, it feels like you're struck by lightning. the rush of your cum flowing on his tongue makes him feral. he growls when you try to scoot away from his mouth, arms locking around your thighs and keeping you trapped against his mouth as he suckles at your pussy.
"König..." you whimper, pawing at his head, trying to break him out of his newly formed addiction.
"more, liebling." he moans against your folds, his grip tightening when you squirm helplessly against him. "i need more."
you could do nothing but lay there and take it, eyes rolling back at the heat building at the base of your spine, gearing up for another hit of ecstasy.
whatever reservations you had about repulsing him went out the window. not when he gets on his knees, begging for another taste. if only KorTac could see him now, eyes pleading and desperate for you.
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patrollingboston · 11 hours
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I don't really dance // Soap x Reader fluff
Soap your long time crush offers you a dance at a friends wedding.
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The wedding looked gorgeous, not being a typical romantic the idea of attending a wedding for an entire day would make your stomach churn. But seeing as it was Gaz’s wedding and he was one of your closest friends you made the effort for him and his lovely new wife.
The dancefloor was bustling, the music was throbbing through your ears. You grasped a glass of wine sipping it slowly underneath a veranda with vines tangled around the legs making a pretty sight. Confetti lay all over the table in the shape of pink and white hearts. How cute. Everyone else, that you knew of, attending the wedding all seemed to be at the bar or enjoying the atmosphere of the dance floor. Ghost sat opposite you on the table, a beer in hand, his mask still pulled over his face; it obviously didn’t come off for special occasions. You sat there like a pair of grumpy idiots whilst everyone else enjoyed themselves.
“What time do weddings usually end?” He grumbled, taking a sip of his beer whilst lifting his mask up to reveal his mouth. He must have had some weird looks from guests who didn’t know about the whole mask ghoulish thing.
“Fuck knows.” You reply taking a small sip from your glass, your eyes scanned the area, the stars contrasting the thick dark sky that loomed above everyone.
“Look at Price and Laswell dancing over there.” He said gesturing to the pair, clearly both plastered as they danced joyfully to the music.
“Psh, at least they are enjoying themselves.”
A beat passed.
“You spoken to Johnny today?” He made direct eye contact with you, swivelling in his seat as if the conversation had taken a more serious turn, making your stomach flip slightly.
“A little bit, caught him before the ceremony. Saw him chatting to one of the bridesmaids. Why?”
“You know if you keep letting your big bruised ego get in the way nothing is going to happen with him.”
“Um excuse me Ghost, I have no idea what you mean.” You said defensively raising your voice a touch so he could hear your annoyance over the loud bass.
“Whatever, I don’t see him with that ’bridesmaid’ now.” He leaned back in his seat again taking a swig of his beer.
“Dick.” You said under your breathe, who was he to talk about your feelings.
Subconsciously your eyes drifted around the space for him, you spotted him perched on a barstool chatting to who you assumed to be Gaz’s mum, always the charmer. As if he could feel eyes on him, his head turned round into your direction. You quickly looked away trying to gulp down your glass of wine to seem occupied; praying he didn’t notice you staring.
The song suddenly switched from an upbeat one into a slower paced one making everyone begin to pair up and sway around the floor. Gaz and his bride were looking lovingly at each other, you couldn’t help but feel a little jealous about what they had. Pushing those feelings down you turned to ghost.
“Want another drink?” You spoke, standing up grabbing your purse from the chair.
“All good, not done with this one yet.”
“Not like you to turn down a free dri- “ You were cut off by a presence in front of you, looking up you saw Soap. You swallowed hard.
“Ya alright?”
His accent made you weak at the knees, even if you’d never tell a soul that.
“Fine, you having a nice time?”
“Yeah, I um wondered if I could steal you for a dance?” He asked, his confident demeanour suddenly changing to an anxious teenager.
“What... I don’t really dance.” Unintentionally you let a laugh slip out.
“Dinnae laugh at me, I’m serious.” He playfully punched your shoulder before holding a hand out towards you.
You looked towards Ghost who was trying his best to ignore the situation happening right in front of him, you managed to catch his eye for a brief second, he widened them as if to say ‘go on’.
You took his hand and he gently led you towards the dance floor, you found a quiet spot between the crowd.
His hands found your waist as you placed yours on either side of his shoulders. You weren’t quite sure where to look so you opted for gazing over his shoulder.
“Relax would you, you’re as stiff as a board.” He teased.
“Can’t say I dance very often, give me a chance I’m not a natural.”
“You’re perfect.”
The comment caught you off guard, you pulled away from his grasp slightly meeting his eyes. You couldn’t help but notice the way the fairy lights surrounding you reflected in them causing a twinkle. All of a sudden, he was twisting you round like a ragdoll. During the spins you couldn’t help but see a few familiar eyes staring in your direction in surprise.
“Johnny please, I’m getting dizzy!” You chuckled, he always had this way of making you unmask and let your guard down no matter the situation.
“You look stunning, I don’t tell you enough.” He spoke with a genuine tone and a cheeky smile as his eyes fell back on yours once again.
“I- “ Choking out a single syllable, you could feel the heat rising to your cheeks.
“Come ere’.” His arms wrapped around you even tighter, causing you to fall against him, you rested your head in his shoulder as he continued to peacefully sway to the music.
Your eyes found Ghost who was still sat, beer in hand at the table by himself. He raised his bottle in your direction, you wanted to be annoyed but couldn’t bring yourself to be, instead you returned him a warm smile.
You would have never guessed that the night ended with you slow dancing with Soap MacTavish underneath the stars like in a romantic comedy but here you both were intertwined moving with the calm pace of the music lovingly.
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ohbo-ohno · 5 months
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Kinktober Day 31 - Free Use
Poly 141 x Reader - 4.3k (on ao3)
summary: Glimpses into your life as a housewife and free use toy for the 141 post-retirement. (Reader POV, second person)
cw: soft sex, half-drunk sex, light somnophilia, anal sex
note: last kinktober of the month! sorry i got off by a day at the end here, but i hope you guys have enjoyed everything so far :) btw this is less "free use" and more "sex with the 141 while living in domestic bliss"
Your days are filled with sex. Sex with all of your boys, in every position you can think of, in every room of the house they’d bought for the five of you after retiring. 
You all split the chores evenly these days. No one does more than they’re more comfortable with, and you’ve all found your stride, something to give you purpose, after the rigidity of the military.
Gaz has taken to bee-keeping. As odd as it sounds, he’s got the patience for it, and he’s quite protective of his bees, even has nearly an entire library of books he’s taught himself with. Price helps him out by selling the honey he harvests, keeping track of his profits and managing the household’s finances. 
Ghost hunts, spends his days out finding game to bring home, tracking herds and predators around your property. Johnny does a little of everything - fixes things when they break, chops firewood every morning, helps Simon skin his prey, tries to help Gaz and his bees. 
And you take care of the house. You make the meals, clean up after everyone, and find yourself perfectly happy to keep your men fed and warm. 
Your other chore is to bend over whenever they want. Well, bend into any position whenever they want, Ghost and Soap tend to enjoy getting a bit more creative. It’s not really much of a chore, considering how eager you are to do it.
It’s a great deal for you. Johnny and Kyle are always eager to get you off, and neither Simon nor Price is stingy with the orgasms these days either. You live your life floating between domestic labor and orgasms - not a bad existence, by your metric. You get to live without a care in the world, four men to take care of and four men to take care of you. It’s like a dream come true.
———————————————————————
You hum to yourself as you dance around the kitchen, wearing nothing but a frilly apron as you wait for your pancakes to cook. The small radio on the dining room table plays music from a local radio station, something cheery to start your day. It’s hard not to smile, with sunshine pouring in from the windows and a batch of fresh eggs to scramble on the stove. 
Your small moment of bliss is interrupted by a pair of hands on your hips and a large body bracketing yours.
There isn’t even a moment of fear, you instinctually lean back into the man behind you. A moment later, a rough beard brushes over your cheek.
“Pancakes this mornin’?” Price asks, big paws resting on the softness of your hips.
“Hmm,” you hum, tilting your head to claim his lips. He sways the two of you back and forth slowly, to the beat of the song, and lets you take your time with him. “Blueberries in yours,” you tell him when you come up for a breath of air.
One hand shifts to your ass, the other to your stomach, and you feel him smile. “Thank you, love. Got time for a quick round before they burn?”
You mimic his smile, let him bend you over slowly. “You’re just in time, Captain, I haven’t cracked the eggs yet.”
“Perfect,” he purrs, pressing himself to your backside. He tucks his plaid pajama pants down a little, rubbing his warm morning wood against you. You fold your arms beneath your head, let your eyes drift closed as his fingers make quick work of getting you ready.
Moments later, the heavy length of his cock fills you slowly. You moan, shifting your legs a little bit wider as he massages your waist.
“There you go,” he sighs, bottoming out and grinding himself slowly inside of you. “Tight as always, perfect girl.”
You giggle a little drowsily, wiggling your hips against his. “Always for you, John.”
He sighs contentedly, pulling out slowly. “Don’t I know it.”
He fucks you slowly, a steady pace that drags against all your most sensitive parts on every thrust. John’s thick, and the stretch isn’t quite comfortable with no prep. But you’re still a little loose from your time with Soap and Gaz last night, so it’s far from painful to take him.
He hunches over you as he gets closer and closer to the edge, elbows resting on either side of you and breath ghosting across your nape.
“Aw,” you hear Soap say,voice rough from sleep as he steps into the kitchen. “I wanted first go today.”
“Early bird gets the worm, Johnny,” Gaz teases, settling into a chair in the little breakfast nook Simon had built soon after moving in. “You’re the one who stayed up so late with her last night.”
“Wasn’t just me, jackass, you’re the one who-”
“Boys,” Price grunts, hips slamming against yours, leaving you squirming beneath him. “Will you shut the fuck up while I’m balls deep in our girl?”
You can’t help but snort beneath him, pushing yourself up enough to arch your back further, stick your ass further out for him. “Ye-yeah, boys.”
“Hush,” Price scolds, one hand shifting to your neck where he forces you flat to the counter again. “‘M almost there…”
He groans lowly as he buries himself deep inside of you, pumping slowly as you tighten up, trying to milk him. “Fuck, feels good…”
You smile against your arms as the pleasure that had been building inside of you starts to dull to a simmer, something warm in the root of you.
Price pulls out only moments later, two thick fingers tucking into you to keep any of his come from dripping out. “Keep me safe inside you, pretty thing, c’mon. Clench down.”
You take a deep breath and try your best to listen, straightening up and doing your best to keep yourself from dripping down your thighs. 
He turns you around, leaning you back against the counter and cupping your cheeks in his hands, tugging your face up to give you a soft kiss. “Thank you,” he whispers into your mouth, just quiet enough for you to hear.
“Of course.” You reach up to grab his wrists, holding him close. “Never gonna say no to you, John.”
The two of you linger in the moment, sunlight warming your skin as you breathe into each other.
It’s Soap that interrupts you, an intentionally obnoxious clearing of his throat nearly making you jump. “Any chance at coffee sometime today, bonnie?”
You huff a laugh into Price’s mouth, pushing him away and shooting a half-playful look to Johnny. “Can’t give me a minute of peace, can you?”
He smirks, “Nope.”
John scoffs as he pulls away, moving you with him and giving you a quick tap to the ass to send you over to the counter with the coffee machine. “Someone’s gotta teach you some patience, MacTavish.”
“If Ghost still hasn’t gotten it into him, no one is,” Gaz laughs, shifting enough for Price to join him on the bench. 
“Who says I haven’t?” Ghost says, stepping from the hallway. He’s already got a cigarette lit between his lips, and you wave him away with a spatula.
“No!” You scold, trying to shoo him closer to the window. “No smoking in my house! You know I hate the smell.”
Ghost rolls his eyes good-naturedly but lets you herd him to the open window, resting a shoulder on the windowsill and blowing a mouthful of air. You hmph, satisfied, and move to flip the pancakes. “You’re not the one who has to get that smoke out of all the furniture, you know.”
Ghost sighs, but he’s dramatic enough about it for you to know that he’s intentionally exaggerating his annoyance. “Awful early for all that nagging, woman.”
You glare at him playfully, picking up an egg to crack. “Awful early for a cig, too.”
He huffs and you crack your egg, the kitchen shifting into a comfortable silence. You continue your humming as the song changes to something more upbeat, unable to keep a smile from your face.
———————————————————————
You’re half tipsy, giggling into Soap’s mouth as the two of you stumble into the house. You manage to trip over the lip of the entrance, and you yelp as you start to fall.
Johnny just barely manages to twist and catch the both of you in time, grunting loudly as he hits the ground. The breath is knocked from the both of you, and you lay there in the dark for a moment, still.
You’re giggling as soon as you can breathe again, unable to stay still with all the energy and wiggling against his chest. “Jo-Johnny!”
“What?” He pants, still not fully able to take a breath in. You can see the outline of a smile, though, and his hands come up to fully cup your ass. “You were the one taht tripped, lass!” 
That only makes you laugh harder, kicking your feet against his shins. “I-I know!”
Now he laughs, a full-bellied sound that has you bouncing on his chest. He manages to push himself up so that you’re in his lap, and presses his mouth to yours without warning.
You make a high sound of surprise but quickly kiss him back, licking into his mouth when he parts his lips. 
Your kiss is messy, both of you a little too drunk and a little too needy to bother for tact. Johnny’s softer than he usually is, all tongue and no teeth. You wrap your arms around his neck, shifting so your knees rest on either side of him and squeeze his hips.
“Need you,” he pants into your mouth, shifting you over him to start a slow grind. “Need to be inside you, bonnie.”
“Yeah, please,” you say, quickly dropping your hands to his belt and clumsily working at his belt. It takes several tries for you to get it undone, and both of you get more and more desperate. Your underwear get more and more damp as you work yourself over the rough denim of his jeans, your skirt rucked up around your hips as he palms at your ass.
“Come on,” he growls, landing a harsh slap against the meat of your thigh. You yelp at the sting, then giggle, and finally manage to get his belt loose, quickly tugging it off.
“There you go,” you mumble, throwing the belt to the side and hearing it slide against the hardwood. “C’mon, c’mon, need you now, Johnny.”
He nearly snarls into your mouth, jerking your panties to the side and stuffing two fingers into you with no warning. You jolt higher on your knees and moan, digging your nails into his shoulder.
“Sit still,” he growls, tugging you back down and scissoring his fingers quickly to spread you. He slips a third finger in easily, your cunt already slick and dripping for him. “Stop fuckin’- stop wigglin’ around.”
You can’t help but giggle again, pushing your smile against his lips and nipping at his chin. “Can’t hold me down, MacTavish?”
You feel him grin, growling playfully, and before you can keep prodding him he’s got you flipped onto the floor beneath him. You squeal when he somehow manages to keep his fingers inside of you, pushing deep as he pins you down. He tucks your knees higher, both of your legs resting on his shoulders.
“I’ll show you held down, lass,” he growls, smile just barely visible above you. “Want it rough, then?”
You bite back another laugh, pushing up just enough to bite his bottom lip and tug it down with you. “As rough as you’ve got, MacTavish.”
It works as the perfect taunt you’d meant it as, and he’s buried in your tight heat before you can try and push him any further. Your head falls back against the hardwood floor as his falls to your throat, both of you moaning loudly as his hips meet your thighs.
“Fuck,” he groans, teeth pressed against your throat. When you arch your neck even further, he bites into your flesh, sucking a hicky and making you ever wetter between the thighs. “Fuck.”
“She tight, Johnny?”
You both yelp at the sudden voice, Johnny jolting away from your neck and shifting inside of you, causing you both to melt again.
There, in the corner of the room, is Ghost. He’s smoking a cigarette by the window, illuminated only by the glow of his cigarette butt and the moon. You can’t quite see his expression, but you can just imagine the cocky smirk.
Johnny groans above you, sinking back down to press kisses along your throat and forcing your knees almost to the side of your head. “Scared the shit outta’ me, Ghost,” he sighs, pulling out just enough to give you a few tiny thrusts. You moan, letting yourself relax into the floor.
“Not surprised,” Ghost says, and you watch as he stubs out the cigarette and take a few steps to where the two of you are tangled in each other. “How much did you two have to drink?”
You laugh at the question, but it melts into a moan as Johnny starts to find a rhythm that works for both of you. Your knees nearly knock against your own face as he makes his way across your neck, leaving bruising kisses. 
“Not-” you choke a bit on a particularly rough thrust, just barely managing to keep your eyes open and watch as Simon settles into an armchair. “Not that much.”
“Yeah,” Johnny pants, lifting himself up enough to look down at you. “How-how much’ve you had, L.t.?”
Ghost snorts, taking a swig from a beer bottle you hadn’t noticed before. “Less’n you two, I can tell that much.”
You and Johnny both snicker, half out of breath already, but none of you try and keep speaking as Johnny starts to really fuck into you, finding a perfect rhythm that’s just a little messier than usual, a little jerkier. 
The two of you make no attempt to be quiet, moaning and whining loudly as you work to find that peak. Even with folded in half as you are, you try to push into him as much as you can to help him hit the perfect spot inside of you. 
You nearly scream when he does, clenching down so tightly onto him that he’s forced to a still inside of you, his length throbbing in time with your heartbeat. 
The world blurs around you as Johnny takes your lips again, pressing your tongues together in a slick slide as he batters inside of you.
“Clo-close,” you gasp, clawing down his shoulders. Your nails dig in enough through his shirt to have him moaning, arching further into your touch.
“Me too, bonnie.”
He shifts enough to lean his weight further onto your thighs, newly freed hand smoothing down your chest and stomach to work against your clit. You melt beneath him, muscles going loose as you turn into nothing but a limp doll for him to fuck.
Your eyes squeeze shut as your orgasm starts to overcome you, Johnny’s work against your clit and the hot length inside of you finally shoving you over the edge.
“Fuck- fuck!” Johnny nearly shouts above you, your orgasm triggering his own. You cling tight to him, dragging his body as close to you as possible while your muscles clench down around him. The two of you are nearly drooling in each other’s mouths, eager for as much physical touch as possible.
It feels like an impossible amount of time later when you hear Ghost crouch down next to you, see his shadow cast over both you and Johnny. “You two done, then?”
You feel Johnny huff where he’s leaned against your cheek, feel his smile grow against yours. 
“Yeah, Si,” you say, squirming a bit beneath Johnny to try and get out from under him. “I think we’re done.”
Johnny gans a little but he obliges and shifts back enough for his softened cock to pull out of you. You both whine in sync at the separation, and he finally lets your legs fall to the ground, heels thudding against the floor.
Johnny rolls off of you, flopping to the floor next to you. “Carry us to bed, L.t.”
You giggle and blink up at Simon, softened from your orgasm and the lingering buzz from your night out. “Yeah, L.t.,” you lift your arms high, making grabby hands like a toddler. “Carry us to bed.”
Ghost snorts above you, but he still leans down and scoops you up beneath the knees and the back. You squeal when he hefts you over his shoulder into a fireman's carry. He ducks low again and you grasp onto the bottom of his sweatshirt, then giggle when Johnny flops bonelessly over Ghost’s other shoulder.
He carries the two of you effortlessly down the hall, and Johnny’s soft laugh joins yours - well, at least before you hear a muffled slap and he quiets himself/ Of course that only makes you laugh, earning you a spank of your own.
You’re dropped rather carelessly onto the massive mattress all five of you share these days, hand flopping against what you’re sure is Price’s chest as Ghost falls on top of Johnny where he’s dropped.
You hear a muffled oof! from next to you and curl into Price with a smile, tucking yourself close to his chest. He rumbles a low noise, instinctually tucking you close. You can hear Gaz getting annoyed with Ghost and Soap, feel him kicking at them to fight for his own spot on the mattress. You fall asleep with Ghost’s back to yours and Price’s chest to yours, surrounded by warmth.
———————————————————————
You groan into the sheets in frustration, fists clenched tight. “Simon, come on, please.”
He spanks you sharply, but the pain is hardly noticeable compared to the need you’re drowning in. 
“Quiet,” he grunts, three fingers spreading your ass. “Need to stretch you out properly, don’t want any tears.”
You whine, arching your back and pushing your ass further into the air. “I’m ready, I promise, just need you inside. I’ve been stretched for the last ten minutes!”
“And you’ll get stretched for ten more if you don’t quit complaining.”
It’s almost impossible to bite back a complaint at that, but you manage to dull it down to just a near-painful eye roll. You try your best to stay still for him, stay patient, even as you feel like your pussy is dripping like a faucet.
Ghost has fucked you with far less prep than this, you know he’s just trying to be an asshole - no pun intended. You also know that the more you rush him, the slower he’ll go. So you force yourself a little looser, let your body sink more comfortably into the position he’s got you in.
It doesn’t make the wait any easier.
You’re not sure how long it’s really been when he finally deems you stretched enough, but he finally pulls his fingers free. You whimper at the cold dribble of lube as he spreads a bit more across your stretched hole, the slick sounds echoing in the room telling you he’s likely spreading it across himself too.
“Alright, love,” he says, notching himself at your back hole with both hands on your hips. “Loosen up for me now.”
The stretch is sinful as he finally gives you his cock, enough for you to feel the sting but not at a painful point. Your eyes roll back in pleasure instead of frustration, and your knees shift just a little wider to welcome him more fully into your body.
“Fuck, you feel good<’ he grunts, grip tightening on your hip.
On a normal night with Ghost, you’d expect minimal prep and long rounds of edging. He likes to keep you from coming for as long as possible, then coax an orgasm that feels earthshattering from you when he finally shoves you off that ledge. Either that, or he fucks you quick and dirty - in the yard outside, in the shower, in the middle of the night, really any time he feels like getting off. With you around, there’s no need to masturbate. That leaves you getting bent over and used at any time he feels the slightest urge to get off, but you couldn’t mind less.
Now, though, Ghost paces himself far more slowly than usual. His thrusts are long, bottoming out and pulling back until the head of his cock just barely breaches your hole. If you couldn’t feel the way his hands bruise your hips, you’d almost call his pace leisurely. 
The two of you are near silent as he fucks you, content to fill the air with soft moans and the occasional whine instead of dirty talk. It feels nice, such slow sex with Simon. It’s a side of him he rarely lets you see, even now.
He knows you can’t come from anal alone, and is feeling generous enough to grab one of your hands and shift it down, telling you, “Rub your clit for me, love. Wanna feel you come.”
And, well, who are you to disobey?
You bring yourself to a slow, rolling orgasm with rhythmic circles against your clit, hips working against his even with his grip. You moan more loudly now, moith open and spit spreading across the pillow.
“Si-Simon,” you gasp. “Feels so good, so deep.”
“Yeah? Deep in your ass, huh, love?”
“Mhmm, mhmm. Can hardly br-breathe around you, Si.”
“I know, so big in your little hole. You’re taking me well, though, being such a good girl for me. Gonna - fuck, love - gonna make me come, give you a nice load then plug you up.”
“Yes, yes…”
“You want that? Want to be stuffed with my come? Keep me inside of you ‘til I say you can take the plug out?”
“Yes, I’ll keep it in for you, Si, be so good for you.”
“Oh, I know it, love. Always a good girl for me, most perfect girl… fuck, feel so good around me…”
He groans when he finally gets himself off, pulling you back onto his harsher thrusts and letting your channel squeeze the come from him. You rub your clit a few more times, ignoring the aftershocks in favor of forcing your muscles to milk him a bit.
When he finally pulls out, he tucks a good-sized plug into your loosened hole before any of his come can slip out. You shift from your knees to your stomach with a soft hum, tugging a pillow into your arms as your eyes drift shut.
“You stayin’ in here for a bit?” Ghost asks, brushing some of your hair away from your face and dipping down to press a dry kiss to your cheek.
“Hmm. Gonna take a nap before dinner.”
“Alright. Need any help tonight?”
“No,” you hum, curling deeper into the bedding. “You can set the table, if you really want.”
You hear him laugh as he pulls away, weight shifting off of the mattress. “I’ll leave that to Johnny, I think.”
A few moments later the door click softly shut behind him, and you float into a peaceful slumber while trying to half-plan dinner. 
———————————————————————
You’re half-asleep when you feel someone shift in bed next to you, their body covering yours. There’s a distinct hardness against the small of your back, and you press back against him.
“Stay still,” you hear Gaz whisper in your ear as he urges you further onto your stomach. You hum a little in response as he settles over you, kneeing your thighs apart enough for him to rest between them. “Don’t wanna wake anyone else up, right sweetheart?”
You hum again in what’s probably supposed to be agreement, but is really just a half-asleep sound. You trust all your boys, though, so you’re perfectly content to let Kyle do whatever he wants.
You sleep naked these days, so it’s easy for him to spread your cheeks a bit, to rub at your folds. You’re still a little damp from the shower sex with Price you’d had right before bed, and Kyle doesn’t seem to think you need much more than that.
You’re almost asleep again when you feel the tip of his cock at your hole, and then the familiar weight of him entering you. It’s hard not to groan, especially when you’re so dazed, but you think you do a good job.
Well, until Kyle shushes you loudly, stuffing a few of his fingers into your mouth. 
You make a small offended noise, but it shifts into a sound of pleasure when he sinks fully inside of you.
“Hush. Don’t wanna share you right now, just needed to feel you for a bit.”
You feel his hips shift against yours before he sort of falls to the side, taking you with him. You’re left spooning him, his cock buried deep inside of you and kept warm by your body.
He sighs, pleased, against your back and pulls his fingers from your mouth, letting his hand float down to rest on one of your breasts. He squeezes you for a few moments, but that only works you up more and has you squirming against him.
Kyle makes a small, whining noise and squeezes you more tightly to him. “Stay still, love. Just want to hold you, let you hold me. Go back to sleep, yeah?”
You sigh, debate trying to get him to finish what he started, but ultimately decide that it sounds like far too much work for your current state. 
So instead you let yourself relax into Gaz, body quickly adjusting to the weight and stretch of him. It’s easier than you might’ve thought to doze off like that, held close to Kyle’s chest.
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euno11a · 24 days
Text
my mind is so in the gutter…
imagine that you’re more quiet in bed, like, very minimal moans and sounds. So when Ghost finally has you in bed and he’s fingering you, eating you out and all that jazz, he gets a little worried when you don’t make sounds.
“Does it not feel good, love?”
you instantly shut down those thoughts of his, cupping his face and saying that it feels so fucking good, you just aren’t a noisy person when it comes to sex.
ghost takes this as a challenge in some sense, increasing his speed of his fingers pumping in and out of you, flicking his tongue on your clit quickly and substituting his fingers for his tongue every now and again.
he was determined to make you moan for him so he could hear your pretty ass sounds. When he finally makes you a moaning and whimpering mess, you smirks, keeping that pace up, making you scream his name as you squirt all over his face and chest.
“Every time I fuck this tight pussy, I want you to tell me what feels good. I will not stop until I have you a moaning and screaming mess, love.”
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This is a gift for @eenochian og my OC, Corporal Edouard 'Grizzly' Petit (the tall stupid battering ram) and her OC Florence 'Florrie' MacAlistair, which is just a bubble of joy to have around
Grizzly is a background character in my fanfic and for some reason managed to score that hottie
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