#task force reader

[gloomwitchwrites]

Ok ok

Hear me out

Dying in their arms

ANGST ANGST ANGST

I might be answering this one ask, but there were four other people with this exact prompt idea. FOUR. Y'all asked for angst and pain and I'm delivering. Here you go! Eat it up!

For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE

Task Force 141 x 141!Reader (can be read as gn!reader)

Content & Warnings (MDNI): angst, hurt/no comfort, swearing, canon-typical violence, 141!reader, mild blood & injury, reader death

Word Count: 800

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // imagines & what if series

John Price

John clutches you to his chest, uncaring of the carnage around him. Chains hang from the ceiling. They’re rusty, caked with dried blood and other things.

“I’m sorry,” whispers Price, smoothing your hair out of your eyes.

Your breathing is shallow, and your eyelids are heavy. Death is waiting for you—an invisible interloper. Price would happily hand himself over if it meant you could walk out of here alive and whole.

But that is not to be. There is no coming back from what has happened to you. He can only ease your suffering with soft words.

“I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner.”

You try to smile. There is only a hint of white amongst the red. “It’s okay, John. I forgive you.”

He doesn’t want your forgiveness. He’d rather have you healthy—not near the end.

Your next breath is a shudder. “I’m cold,” you whimper. “And it’s—dark.”

John cradles your cheek, his thumb brushing over your skin in a slow back-and-forth motion. “It’ll pass,” he reassures. “I’m right here.”

“I love you.”

That shatters him. John lowers his forehead to yours, tears falling from his eyes. “I love you, too.”

But you do not hear him.

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

“Where’s the evac!”

The comm is dead quiet. Not even static answers him.

He presses down on the button again. “Where’s the fucking evac!” screams Kyle.

“Kyle,” you gasp, voice wet and bubbly. You cough, and dark red explodes from your mouth, splattering the front of Kyle’s bullet-proof vest.

Blood is everywhere. It stains your clothes and face and hair. There are long stretches of it on Kyle as if he’s been clawed by a large animal. None of it is his, but he wishes it was.

Your eyes are open. Going glassy. Growing distant.

“Stay with me,” he pleads, voice cracking on a sob. “Stay with me. Please. Please. Please.”

The hand that grips him eases, fingers loosening as the life leaves your face.

“Please,” he begs, tearful desperation clinging to his breath. “Look at me. I’m right here.”

But you do not look at him. There is no gasping movement. You are still and cold and silent.

“It’s too late.”

Captain Price.

Kyle’s chest heaves. Everything narrows, becoming a dark pinpoint. “No. No!” He shoves at Price, tears staining his cheeks, fists landing. “Call them! Call them!”

“I’m sorry, Gaz,” murmurs Price, grasping his shoulders. “I’m so sorry.”

Simon "Ghost" Riley

Ghost follows you with his scope, picking off enemies.

“Forty meters and you’re free,” says Ghost into his comm.

There’s a crackle, followed by your laughter. “Thanks for the countdown.”

“Pleasure,” replies Ghost, smirking behind the mask.

He returns his eye to the scope, and—

Ghost blinks, draws back, checks again. “Where the fuck are you?” he mutters.

One moment you were on your feet and in his line of sight. There’s no bloody way you’ve up and disappeared. His heartrate spikes, becomes a pounding thing that thuds in his ears. Ghost slows his sweep—watching the ground.

He inhales sharply and rockets to his feet, charging down the hill, screaming into his comms. Ghost uses your callsign over and over—and when you don’t respond—he uses your name. In his ear Price, Johnny, and Gaz are jabbering away, clear panic in their voices.

You’re in the dirt. Face down.

Ghost drops to his knees, picks you up, drags you to cover. He touches your face, but your gaze is vacant, and there is nothing to the back of your head. Placing his hand on your chest, Ghost sits in silence with you as the useless med evac approaches.

John "Soap" MacTavish

Johnny claps your hand—hard. If he holds on tight enough, maybe you won’t slip away.

“I’m here. Right here,” he reassures, as if his words alone will heal you.

Blood oozes from between your clasped palms. The both of you are covered in dirt and debris but only one of you is unharmed. Johnny will come out of this whole ordeal with a few bruises. You are full of holes. Broken. Bleeding out.

The evac won’t arrive in time. Even if it did, you wouldn’t make it. That’s the hardest part of it, knowing there is no hope. These final moments are all Johnny has with you. There will be no more gentle afternoons, lazy walks, or mornings tangled up in one another.

All of that is done.

Obsolete.

“Johnny,” you whimper.

“Right here,” he soothes, hating how your gaze is unfocused, searching for him even though he’s right here. “I’m here. I’ve got you.”

Johnny shifts you in his lap, cradling you close. He whispers all his love to you, recounting your short but wonderful life together. He keeps talking. Even when your chest stops moving. Even when you go limp. Talking. Talking even in the dead silence.

taglist:

@glitterypirateduck @suhmie @z-wantstowrite @kylies-love-letter @keiva1000

@iloveslasher @ravenpoe67 @sadlonelybagel @nishim @arrozyfrijoles23

@voids-universe @itsberrydreemurstuff @sageyxbabey @xllizs @miaraei

@weasleytwins-41 @eternallyvenus @chaostwinsofdestruction @cherryofdeath @ninman82

@fern-reads @waves-against-a-cliff @beebeechaos @smileykiddie08 @whisperwispxx

@jianyi22 @sethell @atpeacee @konigssweatyhood @dreamingoftomorrow

@katerinaval @morguethemagpie @galactict3a @sarah-the-bird-nerd @mikachu-bitez

@unclearblur @kurochan3 @sans-chara @all-by-myself98 @hisuccubus

@km-ffluv @thriving-n-jiving @carbonnite-copy @sobbangchan @codeseven

@youre-a-wallflower-charlie @tiredmetalenthusiast @sporadicpizzainternet @tessakate @mistresssolana

[anythingneverythingnstuffs]

Imagine accidentally walking into a military dive bar by yourself, not knowing that the customer base was mainly military folk, and just kind of rolling with it

Imagine you dressed cute, your hair was done, and it had been a long week- you deserved a good ol' night on the town, damnit, and you didn't want to pay another Uber to go to another bar

Imagine you making your way up to the bar to order your first drink of the night and when you order a simple cocktail, the bar goes quiet for a split second because who orders a cocktail in this place?

Imagine not knowing that since the second you walked in that door, you've had eyes on you. Of course you've had eyes on you since you walked in, but one pair in particular stayed glued to your form as you walked through the bar

Imagine looking around after getting your drink from the bartender to see where you'd try to sit for a bit to sip on your drink

Imagine there being an empty table near the far end of the bar that you decide to claim as your own as you continued to scope out the bar patrons

Imagine finally locking eyes with the one man that has had his eye on you since the minute you walked in the door

Imagine freezing as you look into his eyes from across the bar, suddenly aware that this huge, masked military man had been looking right at you

Imagine deciding after a second fuck it and you just gave him a smile and a small wave before sipping your drink. After all, he had been looking at you first, right?

Imagine seeing him look away briefly after your wave and you finally turn to look around the bar again, idly sipping at your drink

Imagine not even a minute later, that very same man is now standing right next to you- how the hell did he get there so fast-? And so quietly-?

Imagine the silence that ensues, neither one of you wanting to say the first word (well, it was either not wanting or not knowing what to say)

Imagine the first thing you speak to Simon 'Ghost' Riley, unknowing who he is or what his reputation was, being, "So, uh... Come here often...?"

Imagine that really being your best line for this strange man

Imagine Ghost letting out a soft grunt as he nodded, "Often enough. Never seen you here before."

Imagine you giving him another smile, this one softer and more genuine as you reply, "I didn't realize this was so... Military oriented. Am I even allowed to be here?"

Imagine hearing a small huff from the man, his eyes indiscernible as he says, "Course you're allowed. I'd like to see them try to kick a bird like you out."

Imagine giggling softly, "A bird like me? What's that supposed to mean?"

Imagine all the while, Simon 'Ghost' Riley's teammates are still sitting at the bar, watching this all go down like it was a soap opera. It was, wasn't it? Their Lieutenant going out of his way to flirt with the little bird who accidentally wandered into a military-centric dive and still ordered the little cocktail you liked.

ugh just imagine

masterlist

[goatgoesmbe]

f!reader

Reader who always wear a mask, and was more secretive than Ghost who had no problem showing his face to the team once in a while.

And just like with Ghost, the others joked about you being ugly, which you similarly replied with confidence that's not the case.

When you were tired of keep getting questions about the mask, you'd respond with a joke.

Putting on your best act, you sighed with a solemn look, telling a story about how you used to be obsessed with Shrek and had him tattooed on your face, which you were ashamed of now.

"..Are you serious?" Kyle asked.

You simply shrugged "I guess you'll never know".

And they could never guess whether you were lying or not, being known as the master of psychological warfare and often sent for espionage because of your skill with people, manipulation.

And acting.

What they didn't know is that, you gained that skill from your previous job, when you were a big deal in the entertainment industry. A professional actress that started in many movies and got into a really big scandal that got you hiding.

And somehow ended up here.

That was the reason as to why you needed to hide your face, your identity. Not even your captain knows about it, only Laswell who knew a bit of your story.

Lounging around in the recroom, you silently observed the others arguing about a certain movie to watch before it somehow ended with them fanboying for a certain actress who played the main character.

You.

"Ah swear, Ah saw this porn where the lass looked just like her. Had folk arguin’ if it was really her or just a doppelganger… haud on, where is it—" You heard Johnny rambled as he fumbled with his phone.

You shifted in your seat and hid a smille.

Oh yeah, that side gig you took a long time ago.. almost forgot about that

Dropping this idea before class so i wont forget abt it UPDATE : yes, im def writing this

[metallictastinglifesupportliquid]

Y/N: Fuck me if I'm wrong but- Ghost: Wrong. You are wrong Y/N: I haven't even said- Ghost, taking his shirt off: You are WRONG

[partiallysame]

Being Price’s lil wife

-Task force 141 knew Price was married. Man wore his ring religiously, always putting it back on the second they were in the helicopter/plane/whatever after each mission

-He’d come to work with a lunch packed with a cute lil heart note

-To be honest they all assumed you were the same age as Price (old) He always said he’d been “married for years” (3)

-They never knew your name, Price only ever referred to you as The Missus

-Gaz swore Price had a photo of you in his wallet (he did) but they never knew what you looked like untilllllllll

-You called your husband simply to complain. The AC had gone out and the repair man wouldn't be able to get there for a couple days. No no this simply would not do, his perfect lil lady could not be uncomfortable in her own home he wouldn’t have it but fuck he’s out of the country for a few more days. His team however is not and while stupid, they do know how to do maintenance work (why? Just because.)

-He called his team for a very important mission. Gave them the address, accompanied with “I don’t want to hear a fucking thing about you causing any trouble or being disrespectful to the Missus you hear?” The boys were absolutely giddy to finally see the ever so important Missus.

-The second you opened the door Soap was apologizing for having the wrong house and oh so politely asked if you knew where the Price household was. This had to be the wrong one because there you stood, pretty young thing, big doe eyes. Standing in just a big shirt ending at the very tops of your thighs, lashes batting at the three soldiers standing at your door.

-“You’ve got the right place. John told me you were coming, please come in.” You had to hold in a giggle, watching all of their eyes go wide. Gaz immediately looking at the sky, the floor, anywhere but the wife of his captain that he was just undressing with his eyes.

-When you turned to guide them into the house they all saw PRICE printed on the back of the large tshirt just barely covering your ass (this is your own home pants are never required and its hot as hell without the ac). Now it was Ghost’s turn to look anywhere but at you.

-As they worked you’d bring them water or snacks. They now understood why Price kept you hidden from them. The perfect lil housewife. The woman of all of their dreams already taken.

-When they were finished they went to the kitchen to inform you they were done only to find a full meal set on the table waiting for them but worst of all? There you were reaching up to the top cabinet. On your tippy toes, your shirt (Price’s shirt) riding up enough to expose the bottom of your ass and lacey pink panties. Soap had to bite his knuckle to keep from groaning. Ghost grabbing the tops of his teammates heads, turning them away from the incredible sight in front of them.

-Price was right to keep you hidden from them

-They might just have to sneak in and break something every time Price was out of town if it meant this is what they got to see.

Price's lil wife Masterlist

[rosiereveries]

John who fucks you raw for the first time.

You've been dating for a year now, and you always tried to be safe. But now, he came home earlier from a mission, and you didn't have the time to buy the condoms.

But how you can say no to him, when he begs you to let him fuck you. He says how much he missed you and your pussy. So, you agree that you will give him a pussy job and he can push the tip inside.

John thinks that he never felt anything better than your pussy raw on his dick. Everything feels so intense, and he can't control himself. With few hard thrusts he is completely inside you and he can't hear your whimpers when you remind him that he is only allowed just the tip.

Now he has you under him and he promises that he will pull out, but he slowly starts to realize that it won't be possible. He thinks about you full with his child, with your breast getting bigger and his load spilling out of your pussy. How lovely would you look with his fat baby on your hip while being pregnant with another one.

He never thought he had a breeding kink but once he tried your pussy without a condom everything changes.

He pins you down to the mattress pushing his dick deep inside your pussy and when he feels you reaching your orgasm and squeezing his cock he spills his seed inside of you. With few more thrust he fucks the cum deeper inside of you.

And when you moan his name so overwhelmed and sensitive, he knows that he needs to make sure that it sticks. It doesn't take long and he is spilling another load into you.

And than another one in the shower while he has you pressed against the glass. And another one on the couch when he makes you ride him, while he smokes his favorite kind of cigars.

When the next day you come home with a pack of condoms, he quickly hides them away from you when you're not looking. He needs to make sure that soon enough you will be fat with his baby.

Masterlist You can support my work here : ko-fi

[khioneee]

simon is too big for you.

his hands gripped your hips firmly, his breath heavy and labored as he tried—really tried—to ease himself into you. but no matter how patient he was, how slowly he pushed, your body resisted, tightening around the sheer size of him.

simon was desperate—aching to thrust, to rut into you without restraint. every muscle in his body screamed for release, the urge to roll you beneath him and pound his seed into you overwhelming.

he wanted to bury himself so deep that your body had no choice but to take him, to force his release to take root in your belly.

“fuck…” he muttered under his breath, resting his forehead against yours as he tried to catch his composure. “you’re so tight, lovie. i don’t think i’m gonna fit.”

every inch he fed you burned with pressure, leaving you gasping, your fingers digging into his arms as you trembled beneath him. your body clenched instinctively, fighting to accommodate him, but it was too much—too thick, too deep. you whimpered, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. “si, it’s… you’re too big!”

“shhh, you’ll take it,” he whispered, voice hoarse with restraint. “you’ll take all of me, i promise.”

he exhaled sharply, every muscle in his body tense from holding back. “relax, sweetheart,” he coaxed, brushing a soft kiss along your jaw, his hands slipping lower to hold you steady. “i know it’s a lot… but you can take it, yeah?”

you nodded shakily, lips parting with a soft moan. “try again… please,” you whispered, gripping his shoulders tighter. “i want you. all of you.”

with a low growl, he began to push forward, inch by agonizing inch, feeling your walls flutter and stretch around him. “good girl,” he murmured through clenched teeth, savoring the way your cunt fought to take him. “that’s it. you’re doing so good for me.”

it was slow—painfully slow—but with every careful thrust, you felt yourself adjust just a little more, inch by inch, as he stretched you wider than you’d ever thought possible. and the moment he was finally buried inside you, completely, ghost let out a low, guttural groan.

“see?” he whispered against your ear, a grin tugging at his lips. “i told you—you’d take me, love. every inch.”

[stargirlstabber]

imagine the task force 141 falsely accusing you of being a traitor to the team. knowing your biggest fear, they use it against you. water. water, where your feet can't touch the ground. water you can't see through. at first it started with waterboarding. then slowly but surely they threatened to drop you into the pool. into the dark, deep pool. even john, who was like a father to you before, didn't help you. no. not at all. actually, he was the one who stepped into the water fully clothed, dragging your crying and squirming form with him into the bloodcurling liquid. your tears blended in with it while you we're screaming, practically begging that you were the wrong one. that you'd never do something like that. but they just stood at the edge of the pool, watching their captain almost drowning your terrified self. how would they react, when they get the information that you really weren't the one...?

[itsoutrageouss]

It’s the first time Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley sees you cry that something in him changes profoundly. You had always had your different skill sets out on the field, it was what made you such a powerful duo for the task force. You were sly, agile, a killer in the dark and he was a brute show of force and strength, able to kill with his bare hands. You argued a lot, though. Your differences that made you work so well also made you clash time and time again. He found you annoying. You found him arrogant.

But after a mission, Ghost finds you collapsed on the floor in an empty building— Crying. He’d never seen you do that before, but he knew you were a softer more sensitive soul, you were just good at hiding it.

He was moving before he realised it, crouching down in front of you, eyes narrowed as he tried to find your gaze that was lost in a heap of warm tears. His hands got clammy and his throat dry because how could he make it stop? It was like the sight had reached in and seized a part of him long gone, maybe one he’d never found before now.

“Stop crying.” He said foolishly, but his tone had lost its usual edge, and the very rare lilt of pleading had laced into his voice. Why did he suddenly grab your shoulders and press your trembling body into his? He had no clue but he wanted to shield you from whatever had made you look so vulnerable before him.

A part of him didn’t like seeing this, didn’t recognise the garbled sound of soft sobs, the way your body’s strength seemed to evaporate into a fragile, soft one that he wanted to pick up and put back together. Another part of him was sucking in this moment, afraid it would get lost and maybe feeling a bit guilty about it. But this feeling of… was it protection? Protection, yes. He’d never had it like this before. Usually, protecting means killing and hurting. Right now it meant nurturing as your small hands reached around his neck and you curled into him. He reacted immediately, sitting down and scooping you into his lap.

He closed his eyes, his chin resting on your head with a sigh. He had no idea what came next. This had to change your dynamic in some way because he couldn’t ever look at you the same. He saw your softness and maybe he fell in love with it right there, and wanted to be the one you showed it to. Only him.

“Im sorry” You whispered into his chest. His hands flexed around you, fighting the urge to smother you even more against him.

“Dont say that. Just keep holding onto me.” His voice was more hoarse than usual as his fingers unconsciously combed through your hair.

Whatever had happened, he was sure you felt it too, or you would’ve never let him this close. And he wished for everything you would let him again one day.

series masterlist

[lxvvie]

Simon never thought his body was anything special—not really.

He's just keeping fit because it's part of the job, sweetheart, so body worship wasn't on his bingo card when you invited him over for some rest and relaxation.

Well, not his body, yeah?

Your eyes lit up like it was fuckin' Christmas when you saw him. Simon had just gotten out of the shower, hadn't really had time to put his towel on, and what the fuck is it with him losing track of time when he's with you? All Simon remembered was hearing you mutter "Bloody hell..." under your breath (heh, he's rubbin' off on ya) and next thing he knows, Simon's laying on your bed. Naked. Under you. Wait a fuckin' minute—

His mind goes blank when he watches you watch him; you look at him like he's a fuckin' masterpiece, like he's the most beautiful thing you've ever seen, body hair, cuts, bruises, burns, dents and all, drooling without the drool or what the fuck ever, but shit, it's enough to make Simon's face hot. If he wasn't embarrassed then, he's sure as fuck embarrassed now, and he'd bet every pound he had that knobhead Johnny would have a field day with this.

It's the way you kissed, nipped, and sucked everywhere you could (Christ, you even played with his nipples), making him feel so good, making him feel so bloody seen. Rough skin against your softness, and he's never felt so self-conscious before. You were so damn careful with his latest set of bruises, so fuckin' kind and considerate that he felt his heart jump.

It's the way you ran your hand down, all the way fuckin' down, until it wrapped around his cock. His cock that you're lazily stroking, his cock, hot, heavy, leaking, just... what the fuck are you doing to him?

It's the way you kissed Simon's Adam's apple, soft, gently, and he was afraid to swallow because he thought he'd lose something but he sure as hell felt the goosebumps on his skin and shivers run down his spine.

But it's the coup de grâce, you swopping down to kiss the scar dangerously close to his lips, that shatters Simon completely. Breaks him down so fuckin' much that he's practically holding on to you for dear life. He leans against your touch, wonders what the fuck it would feel like to have your lips against his, and he barely registers the fact that he came, not earth-shattering but a warm blanket over him, and it feels like his very first time.

Fuck, this should've been his very first time.

"Aw, you do turn bronze when you tan, Simon!" He looks down, takes inventory of his tan lines (when has he ever lied to you, sweetheart?), looks up at your beaming smile, snorts, and rolls his eyes. If this were anyone else, he'd probably be pissed that the mood was broken.

It's you, though, and it makes everything feel right.

__

Turning Simon Out series

[hidingwhere]

John Prices wife coming to pick him up at the airport after he returns from a mission, but the car is now full of military men.

One look at the three boys, completely exhausted and pulling their phones out to book a taxi had your heart crying. Without thinking, you offered them all a lift to yours and Johns home for them to stay overnight.

So now there’s three men cramped onto your three backseats, John having the luxury of sitting in the front. Simon is on the end (still in his balaclava but luckily not the skull mask because you’d be a little creeped out seeing that every time in the rear view mirror), Johnny in the middle and then Kyle on the other end. Johnny complains for about 10 minutes that he’s squished in and has no room to move but after that he’s completely zonked out on Simons shoulder.

Your music plays quietly through the speakers and they’re happy to listen to anything that isn’t gun shots or explosions.

Once you arrive home, they all climb out the car, grabbing their bags from the boot and dumping them down in the living room.

“Place looks less lifeless than last time I was here,” comments Johnny.

“Finally got a woman’s touch to it,” adds Kyle.

You smile a little at the non-direct compliment. Price also looks around, noticing the little details that have changed or the things that have been added around his house, keeping a hand on your back. He leans down and kisses you gently, mumbling “I missed you” against your lips.

“I missed you too. But it looks like you’ve lost weight.” You glance down at his body. “I’ll fatten you up again,” you tease with a little giggle as he chuckles.

It’s around 9pm by the time you’ve cooked dinner for four people who have appetites of bears. They all look at you as if you’re an angel sent from heaven when they see the food, sitting down at the dining table silently and scoffing down the meal.

By 10pm, you go into the living room thinking they’re all watching TV but instead they’re all asleep. You grab some spare blankets from beside the sofa and cover them up except for John. You shake him awake and make him move upstairs into bed with you. There’s no way you’re letting him sleep on the sofa and not with you after weeks apart.

[gloomwitchwrites]

okay okay okay here we go,

The reader who has a very sensitive neck. even a breath hitting her neck affects her. (They can be in a relationship or not, however you like)

Thank you🩵

I won't lie to you...I made this one a little spicy. Not full on mind you, but there's some heat below the break. I couldn't help myself. I really couldn't. You said "sensitive neck" and my brain said "write something thirsty because you deserve it." And here we are!

For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE

Task Force 141 x Female Reader

Content & Warnings (MDNI): swearing, suggestive themes, dirty thoughts, kissing, possessive behavior, mild sexual content, mention of alcohol

Word Count: 1,200

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // imagines & what if masterlist

John Price

“Excuse me?”

The pint pauses just shy of John’s lips. He turns toward the unfamiliar voice, finding a stranger standing next to him. Your voice is laced with desperation, and you keep turning your head with a nervousness that instantly puts John on alert.

Someone is harassing you—bothering you. Making you feel uncomfortable. Doesn’t matter that you’re a stranger, no woman should feel backed into a corner.

You lean into him a bit, lowering your voice. “Can you pretend like we’re together?”

John won’t make you ask twice.

Sliding his arm around your waist in an intimate embrace, John tucks you into his side, using his body to create a shield from the rest of the bar. With your back to the room, your gaze is on him, and anyone looking would only find a couple in a relaxed hug.

John dips his head forward, closing the space until it appears as if the two of you are heading for a kiss. You fluster slightly, smile softly, turn away as if embarrassed. Inwardly, John is grinning. You’ve been in his arms for all of five seconds but you fit so perfectly.

“Who is it, love?” he asks, breath ghosting across your skin at your exposed throat.

You shiver—whimper. Not in distress, but with pleasure. It’s probably the alcohol in his blood that makes him bold—that makes him push a boundary.

“Who?” he asks again, this time tracing down your neck to the hollow of your throat.

It happens again, but instead of pulling away, you snuggle closer to him. John suddenly doesn’t care who it is that’s been bothering you unless they show their face. You’re an interesting creature. Sweet. He can see you fitting into his life.

What does he need to do to possess you?

Simon "Ghost" Riley

“You’ve been a bloody tease.”

A rising wave of possession wells within Simon, threatening to drown him. When he wants something, he puts every effort into obtaining it. Right now, that something is a someone. And that someone is you.

You glance over your shoulder and scowl. That pouty lip sends blood straight to Simon’s dick. That mouth would look so perfect suctioned around his cock, licking over his skin, opening wide to show him how good you are before you swallow. Simon fucking dreams about it. It’s an obsession.

“Hardly,” you scoff. “Think you can’t take a hint.”

“Funny,” mutters Simon, leaning in until the two of you are close enough to tease a kiss. “You were the one in my bunk, playing with yourself when I walked in.”

“I told you,” you growl. “I thought I was in mine.” You glance away, clearly too flustered to look him in the eye. “Thought I was alone.”

“Sure, love.”

“I got confused in the dark!” you protest, attempting to move away from Simon.

Simon steps in front of you, forcing you to stay pinned against the wall. There was no mistake. The hallway is lit up enough that any numpty could navigate.

“You meant to be there,” he croons.

You fluster further, and Simon grasps the side of your face, tilting your head back. His thumb brushes against your neck, and you shiver. It’s not a slight thing, but a tremble. You’re sensitive here. Simon notes this. Saves it for later for when he gets you under him.

You lick your lips, pausing a moment before answering. “Maybe.”

Simon smiles, knowing he’s victorious. He gives that gorgeous throat of yours another light brush of his finger. This shiver is stronger. Simon nearly groans.

Blood rushes downward, and a plan forms.

John "Soap" MacTavish

It’s a quick tug. A dark corner.

Johnny pushes you against the brick wall at the mouth of the alley, caging you in from the eyes of the nearby street. There’s a buzz beneath your skin from the alcohol you consumed at the pub, and Johnny’s nearness only quickens the sensation. Just as his hands are on your hips, your hands are on his shoulders, pulling him in as close as physically possible. The smile on Johnny’s face is electric and it only fuels your own joy. This date is amazing. A firecracker of an evening.

Lips brush over yours, featherlight. You arch into him, wanting more—needing more. It’s an inherent reaction. Primal. Dirty. There is nothing you want more than for Johnny to push up your skirt and have his way with you in the dark alley.

With a squeeze of his hand, Johnny closes the distance, sealing your mouths together in a passionate desperation. The two of you have kissed before, but it’s always been at the end of your dates. Chaste and cute and nothing this wanton.

Another kiss. Another. A nip at your bottom lip. A suckle.

You whimper, and Johnny groans, nuzzling the side of your neck. His warm breath dances over your exposed throat, and you moan, body shaking with pleasure.

“You sensitive here?” chuckles Johnny. He runs his tongue along your neck. You let out another little gasp. “You are,” he breathes, like the idea excites him.

Johnny teases your throat, bites lightly, pulling forth a mewl. You’re incredibly wet between your legs, aching with a dreadful need.

“I need,” you gasp. “I need—”

“Me?” he croons, and you nod eagerly, fingers digging into his shoulders.

Johnny’s Scottish lilt becomes gravely. “Then turn around,” he growls. “And lift that fucking skirt.”

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

“Shit,” you mutter, tugging on the harness buckle.

The thing is stuck, and if you don’t have yourself strapped in before the helicopter takes off, you’re prone to flying headfirst into the floor. These things are fickle. At least they are when you’re attempting to strap yourself in.

You tug on it again, but it hardly budges.

“Why does this always happen to me?”

“Struggling again?” comes a familiar voice.

Kyle steps up into the helicopter, grinning as you continue to tug on the buckle like that will magically fix everything.

“Well this is embarrassing,” you groan, dropping the damn thing.

Kyle laughs, bending forward to keep his head from smashing into the ceiling. He shifts over a step so that he’s in front of you. Even though he’s wearing sunglasses, you feel his gaze roaming over you and then the harness setup.

“Sit back for me,” he says, kneeling in front of you like a man proposing.

You obediently do, allowing Kyle to fuss about, tugging on the straps. His lips purse slightly as he snags the one giving you trouble. He pushes up. Leans forward. You’re momentarily startled as Kyle cages you against the seat, his arms behind you.

“Lean forward a bit,” he says.

It means your forehead rests against his shoulder, but you do as he instructs. With head still bent, Kyle messes with something just out of sight. You lean to the right to allow him a bit more clearance, and that’s when his breath ghosts over your exposed throat.

It’s a tender caress, making you visibly shiver.

“You good, love?” asks Kyle, and again, his breath brushes against your skin.

You have to force down a moan.

I’m trying hard to ignore how horny I am, sergeant. Thanks for asking.

“I’m fine,” you reply.

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[tojisteddy]

Jumping The Gun

or: the one where John Price fucks the idea of marriage into you.

cw: 5.9k words (gawd DAMN), 18+ MDNI, klutz in love!Price, kinda toxic!Price, smut with plot, no use of y/n, dumbification, squirting, p in v, protected & unprotected sex, dubcon, dumbification, creampie, breeding kink, marathon!, cum eating, engagement, reader!has tattoos, reader!is in denial of Egypt, Daddy said a couple times idk, john visuals, reader visuals,

a/n: My Whole Life by Alina Baraz *chefs kiss*

Everyone in the 141 was shocked when John Price came back after taking a month an a half off for leave with a golden ring on his ring finger, a new picture frame to place on his desk, and practically jumping off the roof to fill out more paperwork for a special someone. Again.

You were his third marriage.

John was good at making quick decisions, making up his mind at the exact right time when it was do or die. But the old man was a complete klutz when it came to love.

The first marriage, admittedly, was never gonna last long. He was fresh out of highschool, still in the infantry and married his highschool sweetheart. His parents were sceptical but supportive. It wasn’t uncommon to marry early, hell, his parents did so why couldn’t he?

It just wasn’t in the cards.

The distance and the worry was just too much. The divorce was clean cut since they didn’t have any kids and we’re still young. Him and his ex-wife, Cara, were still fairly close. He’d get a call from the woman and her husband (surprisingly) to come over for dinner every once in a while. No bad blood.

But that second marriage? John was a goddamn idiot.

Was it his fault he married with his eyes and not with his brain? Yes. A man is still a man at the end of the day. You see a woman with an amazing set of knockers on her, pretty blue eyes, skinny waist and blonde hair— you’d fall for it too!

She was obnoxious, loud, and always, always, always needed new clothes, shoes, hair and nails done. Now John had no problem spending on his woman, he’d bring down Jupiter if had to. The problem was she complained and whined. Complained about the clothes not being ‘high quality enough,’ the house not being big enough, the brand new convertible not pink enough. Whined when she went over the already pricey budget the man set for her, that she couldn’t spend his life savings on her, that John was too hairy, ran too warm, too tall—no fucking sense.

He got out of the marriage by the scrape of his teeth, lucky that his siblings convinced him to get a prenup. She left with no pounds to her name, shoving all her belongings in that hot pink convertible and crying that no money went to her when the captain had sold the house.

But you? Oh you. His honey, sweet girl, little wanderer— you were the real deal.

John was walking with a couple friends heading to some bar a few hours after being back in the UK. You were walking the opposite direction, bags from different stores after a day of shopping in your hand. You looked like a model, long black trench coat on, a fitted baby blue crop top, black leather shorts that showed off the tattoos that went down your legs, slouched heeled boots that went mid calf. Curls blowing in the wind, you thankfully hadn’t noticed the hairy fellow till you bumped into him.

“You alright?”

Your brown eyes met his blue ones as he steadied you upright. You were awe struck, as if you were meeting a famous person on the street but you had just ran into a good looking older, muscular, brunette with a few stray grey hairs. You slowly started nodding, laughing aloud at yourself at how dumb you probably looked. “ ‘M just fine.” You said breathlessly.

You started to hear the passing cars, bustle of the streets and the murmur from your phone as your friend on the line was calling out to you. “Shit, I-I gotta go.”

And your feet was guiding you away without another word but your eyes were still glued to the man as you walked away. Looking back as he watched you walk away. You chuckles as you got back on the phone with your friend, disappearing into the croud.

The second time he saw you he was heading for a tea, as he walked past ‘Walker Travel Agency.’ John glanced inside and there a woman sat— no— you, sat turning in your chair towards the computer as you spoke to someone through your Bluetooth. You were dressed in an oversized white button up, black slacks, hair now pin straight in a low ponytail, pinned back by a few purple clips with very a light blush on your cheeks.

Even dressed casually, you were a sight for sore eyes. He tried his best not to look like a creep as he finally went to go get his tea but his eyes were glued to you as he walked past the office again. He figured it was fine just this once. Twice, three times— okay, maybe a forth that was completely out of the way of the military base and his own home but this was fine.

He was just getting tea after all.

But the forth time you stood by the water cooler sipping water, you caught those blue eyes. A small smile formed on your face as he tripped a bit once he saw you finally looking back at him. You gave him a small, shy wave with your fingers before he completely passed the building. Your angelic smile growing wider as he passed the building again to get to his car.

And that continued for another week, waves and smiles and stupid blushes that made his heart jump outs until he finally got the courage to pop his head in. He’d just say hello, this was a silly crush. Nothing more, nothing less.

The doorbell chimed once the door opened and you immediately sat straight in your chair, as you were trained to do when a potential customer came in.

“I was thinking of a trip?”

No he wasn’t. He knew that, you knew that by the way he was completely dressed in military attire and kept staring at you instead of the posters of different vacation spots on the wall. But you nodded your head, gesturing for him to take a seat in front of your desk.

“Where would you like to go sir?”

You two hit it off after that. John would pop his head in, leaving thirty minutes before his lunch break even started just to get his little dose of you, before running off to get a tea. You even started making tea so he didn’t have to go to the coffee shop.

Right, it was his lunch break?

You’d made sure to start packing lunch for two and arranging meetings so your lunch break was suddenly at the same time as his. You didn’t know why you did it for your new friend, it just felt right. You made that forty something year old man feel like a teenager again, he couldn’t just sit on this crush forever. He wouldn’t.

*Care to join me for a pint after work?*

A simple text that he’d debated on for two days had him flushed.

*new message*

Don’t usually drink beer :(

Two days down the drain. Maybe he should’ve asked for dinner instead? Or a movie? A walk? Too fucking causal—

*new message*

but if you’re the one asking, how can I say no?

text me where baby :))

Gaz had to make sure he wasn’t sick before he left work that day because he was as red as a cherry tomato.

You laid it out clean to John that you weren’t ready for a relationship.

“ ‘M too flighty ya see.”

“How so?” You two had already been in the crowded pub at a booth, you’d been chatting for 3 hours already senselessly. One pint for each of you, you weren’t good with beer while John just didn’t wanna make a drunken mistake.

“I told you I’ve just been here for a year, right?”

He hummed, nodding for you to continue.

“Well I was in Brazil before that, Osaka for a couple months before that. DR, LA and France before all that.”

“Oh, you’re a real traveler I see.”

“More than you.” You smirked and John laughed, “Think you can beat me sweetheart? Been all over the world ‘nd back. Thrice over.”

You teased, “I can beat’cha soon enough, just wait on it.” You sighed, picking up your half empty glass to take a sip, “But really, a relationship right now is a no-can-do for me. I’d hate to waste yer time after you’ve been so kind t’me honey.”

“Not a single moment with you has been a waste’ve time, believe me [+].” It was gentle but stern, your fingers brushed over the table which made your heart race faster.

John was too sweet, sinkingly so. It made you question how his marriages didn’t work sometimes but you kept your mouth shut about it. You gave him a smile, “I wouldn’t mind bein fuck buddies though.”

His thick eyebrows furrowed together, “Oh John come on now, you ain’t that old!”

Friends who fucked, he knew what it was. But with you? Someone that he’d grown to care for? This was a line he preferred not to cross.

But damn, those brown eyes under the dim light, the mid length blow out that went just below your shoulders, your long sleeve flared blouse that showed off your cleavage just right, wasn’t helping. He hadn’t even realized he’d given you a ‘sounds good to me’ before you gave him an okay and went on to another topic as if you two hadn’t just agreeded to be sex partners.

The night came to a close around 10:50, John didn’t want you at the station by yourself late at night since you were a woman so he took you home.

“I’m a grown woman, John.” You insisted for the thousandth time.

“Yer a grown woman that ‘m drivin home. Exactly. Yer right.” John nodded along with you nonchalantly and you groaned into a giggling fit, no longer being able to fight with him over this.

You pulled up to your apartment and pointed out a parking spot, John followed suit. Thinking you’d probably rather get out of a parked car than hold up traffic on a Friday night.

You got out the car, looking between your apartment building and the older man.

“You wanna come up?”

John fucking Price was a god damn problem.

The first time you two fucked, was just to dip your toes in. See if the older man could handle you, keep up with what you were up to.

The second time was for good measure. You had to make sure it wasn’t an illusion! Get your bearings in order.

The third time— looking back you should’ve known that’s when he caught you. And I mean really had you for good because you’d be damned if he was fucking some other girl the way he was fucking you.

You had to have a cordial briefing with your friend group, explaining to them how you were now a born again Christian because John didn’t just have you seeing stars. No— you saw Jesus resurrecting from the tomb, legs shaking as they were wrapped around his hips. Chest to chest, as John knelt on the bed, fucking up into you through your orgasm. You’d pushed yourself away from him but he snatched you up just before you passed out.

“Stay with me lovie, can’t have you passin out on me can I?” His pink lips connected with your neck again. Your entire body was trembling. This fool, this barbarian, loooved making you a dummy on his dick. You’d learned that the second time. But this time, fuck, it was strange.

“Strange, baby, it feels- mmph s-strange.” You mumbled through a moan, you were limp as he held onto your waist with one arm, bouncing you just the way he needed you to. He was practically using you as a sex toy and you hadn’t minded. You were drooling on his shoulder and down your own face and that freak kept lapping it up. Opening your mouth so he could spit it back in you and suck on your tongue.

“Your tight little cunt squeezing me so good. You love when I suck your tongue, don’t you pretty?”

Your eyes were rolling into each other again, “loooove it sooooo much Daddy.”

“Come on, kiss me while I give it to you.” He didn’t have to tell you twice to get your lips to latch onto his. John kissed so romantic like, slow, desperate— like he was trying to mold the two of you together and you loved it. John’s thrusts got fast, barley pulling out with every swing of his hips up into your tight walls. But he kept hitting your g-spot, clit rubbing right at the bottom of his hairy abdomen. It felt amazing— too amazing—

You yankied yourself away from him again, “wait! ‘M serious- J- fuuuck- John! It’s too weird! I’m- shit- ‘m gonna pee!”

“ ‘S not pee, let it go.” He gruffed, groaning at how good you felt around his swelling cock.

“It isssss!” You whined out, slapping at his arms but he wouldn’t let up.

“Come on sweet girl, squirt all over me. Wanna be covered in you.”

And the crash came, water works flying every which way and your eyes. John came right after you, babbling about how good you were, how amazing you felt around him. But you were crying real tears now, you swore you just peed all over this older man’s thighs even though you told him it was weird. It was humiliating.

“I told you I was gonna pee, ‘nd you didn’t listen!” You hiccuped, covering your face as John laid you back on the bed. He’s eyebrow lifted as he slipped out of you, removing the filled condom and examining the situation that was now on his pudgy stomach, his thighs, your legs and the bed.

“Sweetie,” he started chuckling at how cute were being, you shoved one of your wobbly legs at his chest. It didn’t do any damage. “Have you never squirted before?”

“No,” you sniffled, “ ‘s just pee!”

“ ‘S not the same thing lovie.”

“Yes it issss!” You retorted, going to kick him again but your own leg giving up on you.

John rubbing your thighs as he got inbetween them. Your pussy was glistening in the rooms light, too mesmerized, he let the pads of two fingers take a swipe of all the juices that sat on your vulva and putting it in his mouth. He moaned at the taste.

You gasped, “John!” You hadn’t meant to see the sight through your fingers but shit, it was making you even more wet. The older saw you squirm, shaking his head, he needed a front row seat this time. He lifted your thighs over his shoulders so his mouth was right in front of your cunt.

“Gotta feel it on my tongue baby, won’t you? Please?”

You two went on like that, calling each other whenever you needed. You were always the first to know when the Captain got home, before his own family, because he’d have his fat cock in you by the time you could finish saying ‘welcome back.’

John couldn’t lie and say it was inconvenient getting to let off steam other than exercising or taking a swing of bourbon. It didn’t help that you were actually such a sweet girl, he loved being around. You two would hang out when you had the chance, going out and about or just watching a movie at home. When you were out, all dolled up in a mid thigh, navy blue sun dress and white heels showed off those gorgeous legs, curls in a high ponytail— you two looked like a sugar daddy and a sugar baby. But you never cared about the looks people gave you, you’d grab his larger hand in yours that was freshly manicured with long soft yellow nails and swing your hands back and forth. Even taking the time to introduce the man properly when you ran into your friends on the street.

“He’s a real carin, smart and just all around incredible guy I swear,” Your eyes would beam at him, so longingly then back to your friends and back to John because you always found yourself getting lost in his pretty ocean blue eyes. “I’m real thankful to have met a man like him.”

How could he have not fallin for you?

It was when you and John accidentally ran into his parents while casually hanging out in his home town he knew he just had to marry you.

You were as charismatic as ever, your southern charm easily pulling them in. John thought for sure they’d be more careful since you were younger than the past two women that John brought to meet them. But despite how eccentric you looked in your shorts that hung off your hips, waist beads around your stomach, crop top and the tattoos that his parents generation definitely weren’t used to, layered necklaces and bracelets— they easily fell for you just like he did.

“You sure ‘bout takin them out for lunch, [+]? You don’t have to.”

You rolled your eyes, pulling out of the parking spot and onto the road.

“It’s only right to treat the folks who raised you John. They’ve done well with you, ‘nd ‘m sure your siblings ‘re just as kind. Plus I kinda wanna see more of your smile through your mom. It’s sooo fuckin cute.”

Yup.

That was right there confirmed, he was gonna put a ring on that fuckin finger. He could’ve blurted it out while at that quaint little lunch you had. His parents adored you, even got your number down to give you a call if you needed anything while you were still in the UK.

The man was gonna get you to stay in the UK.

The first time he’d asked, it was too fucking casual. Again, the man was always too eager. Tripping and falling through love was a bad habit of his. You’d laughed in his face.

“John, baby, please be serious.” You threw your braids up in a ponytail, tip toeing around the room to get your clothes. John did that on purpose, the old man always wanted a little more time with you, to see the sunrise kissing your skin perfectly as that after glow of sex looked gorgeous on you.

He’d pout under that thick beard, fuckin precious bear, “ ‘M bein serious. Want us t’get married, be happy.”

“Don’t you leave next week John?”

“So?”

You deadpanned, “John.”

Okay, he was too eager that time. He should’ve thought it though. Right, you deserved proper proposal planning. Not some random after sex question. You made your way over to that big guy, he was still naked, sitting on the bed with his feet on the floor. You bent over, that same gleam in your brown eyes that shown every time you looked at him. He could’ve fuckin melted right then and there as you placed your hands on his knees, leaving a long a gentle kiss on the corner of his lips.

“You call me if ya need anything John. I mean it, even if it’s those fuckin cookies-“

“—Biscuits—“

“—Whateverrr~” you giggled, lightly touching his beard as John took your waist in his hands. Shit, he’d miss you. Miss your kindness, your willingness to drop everything for him, those long lashes that fluttered when you woke up. “I’ll send ‘em yer way, letter ‘f course too. Whatever ya need, John, you let me know.”

With the softest kiss on the lips, you were on your merry way just as you usually were.

The second time John proposed, he did it right.

He had a proper ring. Simple, because you loved simple. The box was in his pants pocket the entire night, itching to get out. You went to a nice fancy dinner to a place you swore you’d only told him once about, took you for a nice stroll, your curls in a half up, half down, dress hugging you just right and John was in a dressy casual. Ultra simple, classic. He was sure he’d get a yes this time.

He hadn’t even gotten the chance to get on he knee before you’d grab his hands. Your bottom lip trembling.

“Sweetheart…”

“Need you tuh listen t’me baby, please.” You pleaded, tears already threatening to burst out like a dam.

“Now I care ‘boutcha so much John. So much that I hate myself fer puttin you in a situation like this.” You sniffled, squeezing his hand to reassure him.

“But ya can’t marry me.” John lamented.

“John—“

“—what is it then? Is it the age gap? I thought you’d gotten over it.”

“John-“ “-clothes? I’ll give it to you. Want me to shave? Done. Love? I’ve got multitudes. If it’s money- it’s yours.” He was racking his brain for something, anything that could’ve draw you to keep him near. 

“I don’t want your money John.” You cursed.

“Then what do you want?! Why can’t I give it to you?!”

“I want your happiness above all else John! But I can’t-“ your voice croaked. You let go of his hands, “I can’t give that back to ya. I know I can’t.”

“Tha’s a fuckin lie—“

“—I’m sorry John. Truly.”

Without another word, you’d ran off. Your heals clicking against the pavement, cries heard through the silent park.

You’d known John for a year but technically only about 5 months since he was away for the other seven. But you knew so much about him, he’d send letters whenever he could, call, text and be right with you when he was back because it ‘felt like the place he needed to be’. It wasn’t a shock that John had grown to love you, it was a shock that you’d grown to love him too.

It scared the living shit out of you.

So you did what you always did.

Move.

It never took you long, you always had a storage unit ready, a few cardboard boxes in the back of your closet, a new job to hire you in another country because you always knew a little bit of the language. But this time you didn’t move far enough, you didn’t have to heart to. If John were to call you right now, you would’ve dropped what you were doing and ran to him.

Which is why you blocked him on everything (even though he didn’t use social media that often).

You moved yourself to the countryside, in a much smaller apartment but in a much quieter town by the sea. You were working the front of a fish market, did you know about fish? No. Did they hire you because you were pretty and your endless list of credentials at other random places on your resume? Yes. You didn’t have a problem with blending right in, building peoples trust with ease.

It was a good and bad habit.

John on the other hand was loosing his mind because he didn’t know where the hell you were. He couldn’t call you, couldn’t text you, and you weren’t replying to his letters. Fuck, the man called his parents and they managed to get an answer but only vague answers.

He’d come to you flat after being away, rushing through (but properly taken care of) a mission because he needed to make sure you were alright. As he rung thr buzzer, he got no answer. He was lucky one of your neighbors came out and told him what had happened.

How could you have moved without telling him, of all people?

It hurt him more than anything to have a mishap like that happen and then not be able to contact you. But to move? With no explanation?

He could play cat and mouse.

He’d play it constantly in the 141, taking down terrorists and the like in less than a couple weeks— you’d be an easy find. He was sure of it.

He’d found you soon enough, a couple days, in that god damn fish market, a wide smile on your face as you talked to the multiple people who crowded the stall where you worked. Why were you working here of all places?

He ignored the growing concerns, joining the line of customers at the stall. Most of the customers having something to say to you and you encouraging more conversation as they made their orders and paid. Then it was his turn. He took a step forward and you looked up at him like you’d seen a ghost. Your heart dropped out of your ass. He looked to the fish that sat on display on ice, then to you and titled his head.

“When do you get off?”

“John-“

“-When.” The older man spoke tightly. It came out more like a statement than a question.

The lady who worked with you, Malissa, chimed in with a knowing smile, “Give ‘er an hour.”

Your eyes widened at the older woman whilst John gave her a pleased look, “I’ll be around.” John left the building and you felt your stomach turn over. You glared at Malissa and she laughed at you, “But it’s love, isn’t it [+]?”

Was it that obvious?

Couldn’t have been. As if the blush showed on your brown cheeks. You gave him the same smile you did everyone else, didn’t you? The same kindness, same glances you snuck, soft touches, and the same brushing of fingers. The way you held onto that man’s arm as you presented him to your friends like a trophy, you did the same to anyone else you admired, right? Right?

No fucking way you did. John was the one, well, situation you fully committed to head first. And you didn’t even know when that happened, you liked the thought of someone romantically caring for you, the kindness and joy that was always a package deal when being in that guys presence. Someone that took you and your hopes and dreams serious for once in your life.

Oh God, you were in deep love with John Price.

You could’ve been thrown across the field by your own heart pounding so loud when you walked out of the market. John sitting on the bench, cigar between his fingers, watching the passersbyers and then at you. He stood, nodding for you to follow him in some direction.

“Let’s take a walk.”

The tension was too damn high. You could feel it through the air as you too walked, the only sound being made was the sound of you feet on pavement, the jingle of keys, the sea in the distance. Your curls were probably a mess now, the cold air blowing every which way.

“How’ve you been?” You tried cutting through the ice, eyes finding anything else to look at.

John paused for a moment, a sigh coming out, “I didn’t think you hated me enough to block me [+].”

You winced, as if it pained you to hear those words alone. “I could never hate you John.”

“Then why-“ another frustrated sigh, “You switched jobs to avoid me!”

You squinted your eyes, “Why would you wanna see me after that John!? There was nothing more to say. I was trying to make your life easier!”

“And why would life be easier without you?” His eyebrows furrowed, hand on his hip. He kept rubbing his face.

You opened your mouth to say something, try to get out of the mess you made but nothing would come out. John wanted to laugh at this but it’s not like it would be genuine. Scoffing, he flicked the end of the cigar to the ground. You were like a Hurricane, create a mess to keep people away but right at the center, there was a serene calm. Only soft winds. You didn’t know what you were doing with yourself. John, saw that.

“I’ll take you home.”

“I can walk from here though.”

John gently took your hand in his, looking down at you with sincerity in his blue eyes. “You know how I feel about you bein alone like this. Let me take you home.”

It didn’t take much convincing, it was just a short 5 minute drive from the hills you stood now to your flat. John opened the door to the car for you, making sure you were safely tucked in before slamming it shut and getting in the drivers side. He drove off, down to the main road but then passed the street you had pointed out.

“Where we going?”

“Home.”

“But my place is-“

“—[+], please.” His jaw was clenched, gripping the wheel and your thigh. “You hate it so much, you yell to the rooftops that ya hate me. Despise every breath I breathe. I’ll stop right now.”

Like you would. You huffed, crossing your arms and looking out the window.

John didn’t get irritated easy. Patience was a vertue, that’s what his parents told him all the time. After two marriages you’d think the man would’ve learned by now.

But the man was starving for you, aching to have you say you were his and he was yours after all this and you still not knowing what you wanted— he’d make the decision for you.

You would be his wife and you two were getting married.

The thought of John being mean hadn’t crossed your mind once.

John Price who was usually so gentle, tapping your thigh so you could move yourself in whatever position he wanted you in, grabbing pillows so it would be easier on you, always checking if you were alright every take you reached you high.

That was not the John you were dealing with right now. He was manhandling however he wanted, both hands on your ass cheeks, legs over his arms, slamming you up and down on his cock and letting you cum over and over. Till he had enough of you in that position and fucked you right on the floor, your back getting carpet burn in front of the bedroom door that you didn’t get the chance to close.

And fuck, you thought it was heavenly before, him raw was otherworldly. You felt every ridge, every vein, every twist of his throbbing manhood, every once of precum that made your walls even wetter than they already were.

“Gonna fill you up-“

“—John- mmm- you can’t-“

He grunted, swatting your hands that tried to push him away.

“Gonna fill ya up like a good husband should,” the man’s nodding at his own words, already pussy drunk. But he was speaking words that he’s held back for months. “gotta getcha ready for when we have a baby.”

You hiccuped, John was talking crazy. A baby? A marriage? With John? And he’s whispering it all in your ear. This was tooooo much— too full—

“John i-it’s too deep! I- shit- gimmie a second—“

He pouted, fucking pouted, as if he didn’t know he was pushing his fat, veiny, cock to the fucking hilt of you. Your ankles somehow at the back of your head, “Can’t ya see it baby? You, waddlin around with our baby inside you-“ John hissed, you just kept clenching around him perfectly everytime he thrusted into his “-In a new house- haaah— after we broken it in ‘f course. Gotta break it in for good- fuckin- measure. Little ones running around, an office for daddy ‘nd a office for mummy— It’ll be perfect.”

You didn’t even realize you were cumming, your ears were just ringing, cunt contracting around Johns dick like you were aching for it.

You’d never in your life had a man cum inside you, but my God. John, this old barbarian, was gonna get you addicted to each and every single shot of cum that came from his leaking tip that reached inside your deepest place.

“Fuck, gotta give you another baby.”

John was determined to fuck you into delerium, you’d pass out after cumming so much and wake up to John sucking his cum out of you. Water breaks? The older man is sipping it and putting it in your mouth. Felt stuffy in the bedroom? No problem, John’s moving you to the bathroom to fuck you there with your leg propped up on the bath tub, the wall in the hallway looked like it was missing your face being pressed into it as John drilled you from behind.

Hungry? John’s feeding you whatever he cooked up the thirty minutes he’d left your bruised pussy alone, and then having you cock warm him in the fucking kitchen. All while kissing all over you, how you were such a pretty wife on his dick.

“We gonna get married John?” You slurred out, sticking your thumb in his mouth then sticking it in yours and moaning at the taste. Sweet.

You were fucked out, if the man said he was gonna max out your cards right now he could’ve. But you were, in fact, his finance. Right then and there, no one could convince you otherwise.

“S-Say that again sweetheart?”

You gripped the back of his neck your your hand, getting him to look at you head on, pecking his lips once. Twice. Three times, “You said you’d make me your wife, you’d really do that John? Make me a wife? Won’t get tired of me?”

“Oh birdie, h-how could I ever get tired of you? I-I’m in love you you.”

“Really? I love- I love yooouu John.” Your hips practically rolled on their own, the captain throwing his head back against the headboard for dear life.

“Fuck mee lovie— whatever you want, whateverrr you fucking want.” His hands found your hips, guiding you just the way you needed to get off. Slow, mean— loving.

“G-god, so amazin, amazin John! Wan’ a chapel wedding -ngghh- You, me, some rings and that fuckin preist,”

“ ‘F course baby, course.” John was stammering out words, he could barley keep up now. Fuck, rings. Those fucking rings— “wait baby, gimmie a second.”

“But John,” you keened, hating the idea of being apart for even a millisecond. Oh you’d be the death of that old man. And he wouldn’t’ve minded dying in your sopping cunt knowing you wanted to marry him.

He’d marry you from hell if he had to.

He reached out to the nightstand, an arm hooked around your waist to keep you close as you sloppily rode him, fumbling to grab the black box he placed there yesterday.

Some how he managed to get that box open, two golden rings sat inside. He grabbed yours, tossing the box to the side and slipping the ring on the proper finger.

“Oh! It’s sooo pretty John!” You moaned, eyes stuck to the ring, heart eyes practically forming in your pupils as you looked at the man who was balls deep inside you.

“Come on wife, you know how to cum for your future husband don’t you?”

“You keep looking at it.”

“ ‘S just so nice John.”

It was a single gold ring that fit your finger perfectly, the matching one that you asked to put on John once woke you up. You two were completely knocked out after two days of going at it like animals. You couldn’t feel your legs and your voice was an inch off from being shot. But you couldn’t keep your mouth shut. You loved being engaged, you loved John, and you loved the thought of a future with him.

“You wanna have a small wedding, don’t you?” John entangled your fingers together, his other hand caressing your thighs. The sunshine was shining through the window of the dim room.

“I’d prefer if it was just you ‘nd me. We can do somethin with your family later. I-I think it’ll be real intimate ‘f it’s just us. Like the movies-“

The older man’s eyes crinkled, “Oh, so you’ve thought about it?”

You scuffed, “I’d be silly not to think about marryin you at least once, John.”

Price opened his mouth, feeling more than shy at his grown age. He stuttered, “No take backs, alright? You gotta marry me now.”

You hooked your ring finger with his John’s matching one, giving it a quick kiss.

“No take backs.”

a/n: it’ll be a miracle if anyone even reads all this. if you did, leave me a message or comment if you liked it or if you hated it pls I wanna hear your thoughts.

[sigh-tofm]

when they come home drunk…

… price

- thinks it’s important that he loudly tells you he’s married while you steady him upstairs to bed. points to his ring incessantly, slurs on and on about his perfect wonderful wife with the big ass and soft tummy. you roll your eyes and can’t help but smile when he doesn’t let you hold on to his arm to support him. something about protecting his virtue for his wife, as if you’re not standing right beside him. proceeds to lock you out of your own bedroom when you finally get upstairs, telling you his wife will be home soon so he can’t have a strange woman in their bedroom (but still remarks on your wonderful ass). you decide it’s too early in the morning to persuade your drunk husband to let you in, so you go down to sleep on the couch. you wake up with price sleeping soundly on the floor beside you, having gone to find his wife when she never showed up in his bed the night before.

… kyle

- gets sappy and apologises for being away. loses all concept of time when he’s drunk, says he’s sorry, he didn’t mean to be away so long, he was thinking of you the whole time, the guys pulled him along and he couldn’t say no. while he’s on his knees at your feet, pressing his face to your thighs and mumbling into your marbled skin, almost making you lose your balance with his fervent apologies, you gently remind him that you were the one who made him go out with the boys because he needed to unwind after a stressful weekend of combat drills, and that he had left with them less than two hours ago. he refuses to hear and only hugs your thighs closer, so much so that you have to support yourself on the wall. turns out all he needed to relax was you.

… johnny

- is horny. almost starts drooling when he eyes you at the top of the stairs, after struggling to close the entrance door for a good minute, causing you to investigate what made all the noise. gets a wild look in his eyes when he sees you in just his t-shirt and makes you scream and giggle as he chases you back up the stairs and to the bedroom. being absolutely shitfaced, he has the coordination of a tranquillised moose and stumbles head over heels across the floor, catches his foot on the doorway and narrowly misses the edge of the dresser with his head as he falls. still, his little soldier is courageously tenting his pants when you worriedly lean over him and he gets a good look right into the collar of your shirt.

… simon

- is emotional and clingy. can’t get enough of you, won’t leave you alone. you can’t make out half his words when he’s had this much to drink (and the mancunian in him breaks out too, making it ever harder to make out the words), but you play along, smile and nod and let him sit on the closed toilet seat and talk and talk while you do your night routine in front of the mirror. so lucky to have you, luv. how could’a lug like me get a pretty one like you, luv. his melancholy statements of love become comfortable background noise for you as you remove your makeup and apply moisturiser. lets you wash the sweat and grime of the day off his face with a washcloth, closes his eyes while you massage your floral-scented moisturiser into his skin, never once stopping his little speech. ambles after you out of the bathroom, holding on to the hem of your shirt, when you’re all finished and ready for bed. his devoted mutters only let up when be falls asleep next to you.

[i-love-you-just-the-same]

bear hybrid! price who stalks around your house at night, protecting you from whatever else might be lurking in the woods. you don't know that he is of course, but you should be more thankful when he shuts and locks your windows when you're asleep. occasionally you see him lumber on the edge of the forest, minding his own. he doesn't want to scare you, but he wants you to admire him, too.

wolf hybrid! simon that follows you everywhere (from a distance and he rarely lets you touch him). you were frightened at first of the big bad wolf, but when he takes you away from snakes and other dangers in the woods you learn to leave out some scraps for him. (he sleeps on your front step. won't enter the house yet.)

fox hybrid! johnny who regularly sneaks into your house to play in your blankets. the wildlife here is so friendly you're shocked, shouldn't they be frightened of you? however he sleeps under your bed and he's fine unless you try to kick him out. red fur is on everything, he seems unusually close to the wolf that looms around. loves scratches to the ears!

falcon hybrid! kyle who hovers in air around your house. he finds little trinkets for you and leaves them on your porch. he mostly hangs around price, but he will chirp greetings and steal bird feed from your feeders.

they protect you in different ways, trying to worm their way to your affections before they bed down in your abode for winter.

[partiallysame]

Soap accidentally hits on ghosts girl

“What’s a pretty lil thing like you doing in a bar like this?” He asked as he waved to the bartender to get you another of whatever was in your glass. Turning to see who the cheesy line belonged to, you almost let out a laugh before you realized he was being serious. You immediately recognized the man. Simon had one single thing on the walls in his apartment, a photo of the 141. You knew the man in front of you but by the way he was sliding onto the stool next to you he clearly did not know who you were. This was going to be fun. You looked up at him with this big doe eyes and he was already losing it.

You hummed a little as if you were contimplating his question. “Maybe I come here to meet big strong men.” You batted your lashes at him. “Was hoping to meet a couple actually.” Your response made him raise his eyebrows as he took a drink of the glass the bartender had handed him.

“Oh is that so?” He asked leaning a little closer to you.

“Yes it is” your voice dripped with honey as you leaned closer to him. His hand immediately found your thigh at your action. A big smile came to your face, hand reaching up to place itself lightly on his chest. You two stayed like that for a moment both refusing to break eye contact before you leaned in to whisper in his ear. Lips barely brushing his skin as you spoke.

“You know John. You should probably ask if a pretty lil thing like me is single before you touch” his eyes widened when you used his name and threw the nickname he had used back at him. Pulling back slightly your hand on his chest gripped the collar of his shirt. “Or at least ask her name.” Before he knew it, the soldier was being pulled by you off the stool and dragged by his shirt to the front door where the rest of the 141 had been watching.

“This thing belong you?” You questioned pushing the large man towards his friends.

“Sorry lovie” your boyfriend apologized reaching to take your hand.

Oh Soap was so fucked.

part 2