loveergirll

[loveergirll]

ok, but imagine that John is the first one reader call for help. Like he is such husband material and if anything goes wrong in their house she is calling him

Husband Price is such a delight to write! thank you for the prompt I wrote a little drabble hope you like it! reminder that my dm's are always open! <3

pairing: Jonh Price x Reader

sumary: The phone felt heavy in your hand, your heart racing as you debated whether to call. It wasn’t the first time you’d thought about dialing his number, but this wasn’t a casual check-in or a playful banter over who was buying dinner. This was different.

Warnings: Mild panic, mention of fire (resolved), lots of fluff.

A sharp, acrid smell filled your nose, and you winced, glancing at the mess in the kitchen. Smoke billowed from the pan on the stove, and the smoke alarm was already screeching its protest. The fire wasn’t massive—not yet—but the way the flames licked at the edges of the pan made your chest tighten. You’d tried to be careful, you really had, but one misstep with the oil and it had flared up faster than you could react.

John had shown you how to handle these things before—his patient voice guiding you through safety tips you’d never imagined needing. And yet, here you were. You grabbed the phone, dialing without another thought.

The line barely rang once before his voice came through, steady and calm. “Love? Everything alright?”

“John,��� you gasped, your voice trembling. “It’s the stove—it caught fire, and I don’t know—”

“Calm down,” he interrupted, his voice instantly grounding. “Are you hurt? Are the flames spreading?”

“No—no, it’s just the pan. I tried to—”

“Alright, listen to me carefully.” His voice was like a balm to the rising panic in your chest. “Turn off the stove if you can. Don’t touch the pan—just let it sit. Do you have a lid?”

“Yes.” Your voice was barely above a whisper, but you were already moving.

“Good. Carefully cover the pan. Slowly, love. Don’t rush it.”

You followed his instructions, your hands shaking but steady enough to place the lid on the pan. The flames smothered almost immediately, leaving behind nothing but smoke and your pounding heartbeat.

“It’s out,” you breathed into the phone, relief washing over you in a wave. “The fire’s out.”

“Good girl,” he said softly, the praise easing the knot in your chest. “Open a window, let the smoke clear. I’m on my way.”

“You don’t have to—”

“Of course I do,” he cut in firmly. “Stay put. I’ll be there in ten.”

True to his word, it wasn’t long before the familiar rumble of his car pulled up outside. You hadn’t realized how much tension you were holding until you saw him step through the door, his eyes scanning you first before moving to the kitchen.

“Everything alright?” he asked, crossing the room in a few strides to pull you into his arms. His hands were warm, steady, a stark contrast to the way you were still trembling.

“Yeah,” you mumbled into his chest, feeling a little foolish now that it was over. “I just… I panicked.”

He pulled back to look at you, his thumb brushing over your cheek. “Love, you did the right thing calling me. I’d rather be here for something small than miss something big, yeah?”

You nodded, a weak smile tugging at your lips. “I was just trying to make dinner.”

He chuckled, glancing at the blackened pan on the stove. “Can’t say I don’t appreciate the effort, but let’s order in tonight.”

You laughed despite yourself, the sound easing the last bit of tension lingering in the air. As he led you to the couch, insisting you sit while he tidied up, you couldn’t help but feel grateful—not just for his quick response, but for the way he made you feel safe, no matter how big or small the situation.

[loveergirll]

— cucumber cool

pairing: simon “ghost” riley x reader (female)

genre: fluff 

summary: simon carries a picture of you in his wallet from your school days.

word count: 1 106

On the day you graduated from secondary school, you lightly punched Simon Riley on the shoulder and said, “Don’t be a stranger.” 

He remembers how you looked then.  Your hair was down and curled, for once, and you had on a dusting of makeup because you promised your grandmother a nice photo from the event.  It was a rather temperate June late morning and now, when he thinks back to that day, he remarks upon how young you both were.  

You were going out to lunch with your parents to celebrate going to uni and he was taking his kid brother out to grab a greasy slice of pizza somewhere before he went off to basic training.  

He knew that it was more likely than not that he’d never see you again.  All he really wanted to do was to be a grunt in the military and fade away.  He was sure that you would get your degree and do something meaningful.  Or if not meaningful, interesting, at least.  

The two of you started off as friends of circumstance: you were in the same film photography class because he needed another art credit to graduate and you needed a class to fill up your schedule.  He liked the soft ratcheting sound the camera made as it moved the roll of film, too.  

“Hey, nice boots,” you told him on the first day of the class and the rest is history.  

Now, he has a picture of you in his wallet that he’s been carrying for at least a decade.  Its edges are frayed and discolored from years of rubbing against loose bills and coins.  You’re a little awkward looking in it.  You still had your baby face.  

The only reason why he has the silly thing is because you goaded him into putting one of the extra prints you had from a portrait assignment into his wallet thinking there was absolutely no way he would follow through.  What kind of sixteen-year-old boy walks around carrying a photo of his friend next to his student card?

He just shrugged in that way he often did—a kid of action rather than words—and slid your photo into his uncle’s hand-me-down wallet.  Done and done, cool as a cucumber.  

You laughed to conceal your surprise.  Whatever you felt in that moment was wedged between embarrassment and excitement.  What person doesn’t delight in being liked?  It made something in your chest puff up.  

By now, though, whatever has kept your image with him all these years later is between Simon and his own affections.  Every time he opens his wallet to retrieve cash, he almost surprises himself.  On some occasions, usually after particularly punishing missions, he’ll pull the picture out and look at the way your lips stretched into a smile.  He’ll follow the lines of your facial features and wonder how much they’ve changed since then.

On a snowy Tuesday in December, you meet by chance at a deli.  He’s off duty for the next two weeks and you’re on your lunch break picking up sandwiches for yourself and a friend at work.  You approach him first, from behind, but he knows you’re there even before you greet him.  The air around you smells the same way it did in school.  Now, it feels like walking nostalgia.

“Simon!” you say happily.

He knows that he isn’t all that similar looking to his sixteen-year-old self, so he wonders how you recognize him.  Funnily enough, you were actually planning to go down the street for takeaway salads, but you spotted him in the deli’s front window.  Well, you saw his back and found a persistent sense of familiarity in the curve of his shoulders.  It was awkward really: you stopped in the middle of the path and waited until you figured out who was standing on the other side of the glass.

Time is very strange.  A long time has passed since he last saw you.  He knows that.  Everything that has happened in the past decades has moved him consistently further from his adolescent self.  That, and he can see the ways you’ve changed.  You look older, certainly.  But there’s also evidence of the passage of time that’s intangible.  Maturity.  Experience.  

“Hello,” he replies.  Then, “How are you?”

You’ve grown out of your awkwardness, he notices.  You chat with him easily as if you hadn’t realized that it’s been years since you last saw him, not just a weekend.  You’ve heeded your own advice: “Don’t be a stranger.”  And he tries his best, too, but you don’t mind that he struggles to make eye contact or that he’s slow to respond with as much enthusiasm that you seem to have.  After you’ve both received your sandwiches, you part ways with your cell number in his phone and a promise to meet up for lunch late next week.

He has a vague sense of whiplash as he chews his lunch.  It feels sort of like the time that’s passed has been condensed.  

You find the picture when you two meet up the next week at this restaurant that has you hooked on its dipping sauces.  You’re sitting by the window and he’s sitting next to you in the booth.  It reminds you of how you used to sit in the cafeteria.  He was already rather large for his age back then so he would sit at the end of the bench so he could angle his knees out from under the table.  

You trick him into letting you out to pay by claiming you have to use the restroom.  But when he catches on to your plans, he throws his wallet at you.  

“You’re trusting me with this?” you joke.  “I could take it and run.”

“You’ve had too many fries to make it very far,” he quips softly. 

Laughing, you say, “Well, thank you for lunch.”

Your laugh hasn’t changed a bit.  

At first, you think that the little white card tucked in the pocket of his wallet is a coupon or a picture of a cat or something.  

“Oh my God,” you say as you make your way back to the table where Simon is picking the rest of your fries off the plate.  “You still have it.”

“Hm?” he grunts.              

You wave the little rectangular photo between your fingers.

“Oh, yeah,” he says, a little shyly.  “Never had a reason to take it out, I guess.”

“Damn, I don’t think I have any of my old photos from that class anymore,” you lament while leaning over to grab a fry.

“Hey, you’re getting grease all over it,” he grumbles. 

— tags

@thecursebreaker

— m. list

[loveergirll]

Thinking about…Apocalypse!141 AU

mdni for referenced/implied dubcon

Apocalypse!Gaz who is sent out to retrieve a potential cure for the virus running rampant across the globe. With major countries fractured and only operating out of contained city-states, the rest of the world is left to ruin. Gaz heads out with his team, venturing to an isolated place in the north where it is rumored that a group of scientists have been holed up trying to create a cure. When Gaz and his team arrives, what they don’t expect is a bloodbath and a singular surviving scientist. The clock is ticking, and outside forces are working against him to try and destroy the data or take the cure for themselves.

Apocalypse!Soap who is a cutthroat mercenary. He doesn’t care about sides or right and wrong, only that he’s well-paid, well-fed, and well-fucked after. Traveling suits him. He hates staying in once place for too long. With a code of ethics that are murky at best, Soap will almost take any job. While he typically goes for quick kills, he’s offered a substantially comfortable offer to stay at a safe-zone to help train recruits. He’ll receive three meals a day, his own lodging with all the comforts an apocalypse can offer, and a woman he can call his own. He’s getting exactly what he wants.

Apocalypse!Price who survived after the fall only to be leading another special ops team for the remaining remnants of civilization. His job is to venture into the wilderness, to crack down on roaming bands of slavers, cannibals, and raiders. But he’s also supposed to be looking for survivors. Lucky you cross paths with him and not the unsavory sort. Problem is, after he brings you back, they dump you into Price’s lap. A “job well done” that cannot technically be returned. While it’s not what he wants, you’re not so bad, and as the days pass, he thinks there might be something here.

Apocalypse!Ghost who notices you running through the woods while he’s on patrol. It’s an old military base now converted into a safe zone. He watches, not intending to interfere at first, planning on letting you go right on by. But then he sees the ragged men running after you, and decides to lift that rifle to blow off some heads. You’re injured. Malnourished. He brings you back to base without expecting anything. But there are few women on base, and plenty of other men are making eyes. He needs to stake a claim before someone else does.

[loveergirll]

Are you a dog person or a dog person?

[loveergirll]

Comfort Creator

Ghost who downloads tiktok only because Soap and Gaz made him so they could send him memes. He hates the app. Thinks everyone on it is just talking way too much about nothing. Finds the consumerism and attention seeking to be beyond annoying.

Ghost who still finds himself scrolling when he needs a mental break from paperwork.

Eventually, he realizes he keeps getting fed this one creator’s videos. It’s the tea reviews that reel him in. They’re nothing special, just them sitting in front of the camera sipping on some artesian tea while chatting about their day and the flavors.

Before long, though, he’s watching all their content. From random rambles to outfit videos to movie talks. They just have a very soothing voice is all. Nothing to do with their pretty face or obviously too-kind disposition. A sweet little thing; so unlike him.

He officially follows three people now.

The thing about Ghost is, he doesn’t sleep. Well, he does, but it’s either like the dead when he’s exhausted himself beyond what his body can handle or fraught with nightmares. He isn’t sure what compels him to do it the first time, but Ghost puts on his their tea review playlist; just lets it play through while he lays in bed. He’s never slept so well. Somehow their voice just makes everything else quiet - like it flips a switch in some primal part of his brain.

At some point he comes across the term “comfort creator” and realizes that’s exactly what he’s got.

A few months pass and Ghost finds himself on medical leave with absolutely nothing to do and all the time in the world. He decides to try some of tea his favorite little creator has reviewed - even some of the bad ones, just to see if he agrees. Maybe he’ll find a new favorite to keep on base.

He makes his way to a local high-end tea shop. All loose leaf and custom blends from various brands and places around the world. He’s far too aware of how out of place he looks - a hulking man in all black and an arm cast in this frilly little shop. A real bull in a china shop.

Ghost’s back goes ram rod straight when an all too familiar voice tries to get his attention. He turns comically slowly, heart pounding in his ears. There they are, tapping his arm and asking if he’ll be so kind as to get that strawberry rose blend down from the top shelf that’s just out of reach. He does, of course, spluttering through an awkward “you’re welcome” and kicking himself when they scamper away to the register before he can introduce himself.

But now he knows they’re close, a shop they must frequent, and has plenty of time on leave. All he has to do is find the right opportunity to make proper conversation. How hard could that be?

[loveergirll]

I feel so embarrassed to say this but the main reason I'd love to date Soap is coz he'll match your freak. Match it and top (and bottom) it. Match it and pavlov you for even worse. THE spokesperson for accidental kink acquisition. Never judgemental. You tell him you wanna try immersive petplay and he asks "which one o' us, bon?" If you're like me and get 'period hornies' he smiles so wide you can see his canines - feel them against your hole too. You tell him you wanna be tied up pretty just casually around the house and he's looking up colours that would look the best on your skin. One of your friends makes fun of you for wearing his name on your skin and he whisks you off home to worship you till your brain leaks out of your head and the hurt he saw earlier is forgotten. Yes the friend suddenly has to move away :(((( at least he would fuck you so nice in the restroom at the farewell party! Can't stand to see you sad, this man. Anything for you, bon.

Anything. Really.

[loveergirll]

thinking about John MacTavish not understanding why you find him so attractive when he’s wearing multiple layers when you first start dating. like, what do you mean? none of his muscles are out on display for you! his tattoo? what about his tattoo! don’t you go nuts for his legs when wears shorts? why do you always paw him when he’s wearing a t-shirt and a thick hoodie? he can understand your fondness for him in sweatpants, but, like, all the layers?

and then it clicks for him when he sees you snotty and sick. miserably sweating, but freezing cold. bundled up with one of his thick ass hoodies, swimming in its soft fabric, a thick blanket around your shoulders. fuzzy socks and baggy sweatpants, trying your best to keep warm. he’s cooing ‘poor you’s while trying to slip his hands under his your hoodie, ignoring you when you say he’ll get sick right before kissing you. you’re all hot and cozy, and don’t worry! he doesn’t mind the sweat - if anything, it gives him a reason to corral you into the shower. of course he can’t let you shower alone, what if you get dizzy? he should really be in there with you for safety

[loveergirll]

Damn man I didn’t realize we had so many breastmilk lovers around here

[loveergirll]

hey siri, play wannabe by hey mona

posted on twt too bc why not

[loveergirll]

Childhood Best Friend Johnny who “proposes” to you when you’re both little and when you grow up you acknowledge it as just a childish thing but Johnny tells all his military buddies about his pretty wife back at home and how he’s planning on giving you a baby or two now that you’re both old enough and he has a steady job to support you now.

[loveergirll]

shy!reader who usually doesn’t have the courage to tell the waiter they didn’t ask for pickles- Askinf the tf141 boys to fuck them raw with pretty little tears of embarrassment running down their face

Weaknesses 13: when you beg for it (like a little bitch tbh)

cw: uhhh some daddy kink/ageplay adjacent stuff in Nikolai’s section as usual 😔

You are igniting instincts inside of Gaz that he didn’t even fucking know he had. When he asks you to beg, it’s supposed to be like a cute, playful thing, yeah? He didn’t expect you to ever want it so bad that you’d cry. He’s practically ripping his pants off with coos of poor baby— he’s wasting no time in giving you what you want.

Soap. My darling Soap. You could sneeze and he’d find a way to get hard about it. So obviously he’s hard as fucking diamonds when he sees your teary, embarrassed face— the quiver in your voice when you ask for it rough and raw. As if that’s not how he’s been fucking gagging to give it to you since day one.

Ghost feels something deep, dark, and ravenous gaping inside him— just beneath his lungs. To have you so desperate, so pathetic and wanting… it can make a man feel a bit greedy, love. You don’t want to fuck with women who know how to make a man feel big. You have any idea what a man will do for a girl like that? Things they don’t exactly cover in the Bible, that’s for sure.

Price is preening and swooning from it, to be quite honest. To have you like this… it makes him want to push you further. To see how much more embarrassment you can take before you’re nothing but a quivering, crying mess creaming all over his cock. Who said that 👀

König feels his heart fucking throb when you beg like that for him. I think he, quite honestly, is the kind of man who falls in love too easily. He knows this about himself, and it’s why he avoids getting involved altogether. So to know that you’re just as desperate and squirming for him as he feels for you? Dangerous. Liable to give a man ideas.

Nikolai’s response relies heavily upon what your behavior has been leading up to this point. But his favorite of your tears, to be honest, always come when he’s broken the brat out of you. When you’ve spent all night being petulant, trying to be bossy and show him what a big girl you are. When you give him no choice but to break you down with promises of pleasure and feather light touches inches away from what you really want, until you’re nothing but a cute, crying little thing in his arms.

[loveergirll]

@axophyllic this is what I think König’s hands look like💅✨

[loveergirll]

crazy ex!bf simon 😇

his skin burns, anger coursing through his thick veins till his heart stings in rage. and he’s caging you beneath him, thick fingers taut round your soft, craning neck. and he’s in your face laughing, laughing like he’s in some sort of psychosis.

“tried to replace me with that?” and he scoffs, words coated in a mess of anger and pure vile. he’s in some sort of shock, practically foaming at the mouth as he spits his words straight to your mouth. “that’s cute, baby, really.”

and when his hips catch a breathtaking rhythm, you gasp, and writhe, and whine. you can barely look into his eyes, with the way they burn, the sweet honey brown replaced with a bottomless pit of black.

you can barely keep up with him, fingers piercing into his shoulder blades, and your mouth drops open when his fingers slither tighter round your throat. it’s dizzying, the way his hips pierce, with the way he cuts off your airflow.

“proud of you for tryin’,” he hums, lips suddenly connecting with yours in tight, heavy kiss. n his freehand grabs at the outer of your spread legs, nails dragging over the thick, fatty skin. “but no one will ever compare, love…”

and his hips punctuate, “no one.”

and another, “will.”

‘nother, “ever.”

“compare.”

and you huff, tears escaping from your watering eyes, slipping down your flushed, pinked cheeks. his jealousy stings, hips moving at such a pace it will stick for weeks, cervix bruising and legs shaking for some sort of let up.

and he snaps you back into reality, forcing your foggy eyes to peer up at him. “nobody can replace me, you fuckin’ got that, babe?“

✌️.

[loveergirll]

Price calling your pussy his pretty little garden bc its the perfect place for him to put his seed

[loveergirll]

Listen, I'm not saying that I want to marry Nikolai and Price and be their good house wife buuuut-

Man why am I imagining Price and Nikolai sharing a wife like she’s a fuckin’ timeshare. Like yeah, they work together sometimes, but otherwise Price has got you with him when Nik is on a long job, and Nik has got you with him when Price is deployed.

99% of their back and forth texts are about you. Pictures of you, updates on you, where they’ve been taking you on dates, videos of cum leaking out of the puffy, swollen lips of your cunt. And they’ve got basically the same philosophy about giving you a baby— they can share the responsibility. They’re both busy, dangerous men. It would be cruel to have wives of their own— poor women would be alone for half the year. This way they can keep their careers and you can get some much needed attention.

The way they talk about you is so insanely intimate and yet so utterly casual.

“Calendar says she should be ovulatin’ soon. Got plans?”

“Making a Black Forest cake for her as we speak. Says you haven’t been able to find her a decent one in London.”

“Slander— bird’s got impossibly high standards. And she’s always been soft for sweets from you, Nik. Hope you’re ready to get your balls fuckin’ drained, mate.”

“I’m betting on it.”

[loveergirll]

something something about showing johnny your newly waxed cunt. don't get me wrong, the man loves it in every way, but he likes it especially bushy. so imagine his surprise (and barely hidden disappoinment?) when he sees his pretty girl bare.

to compensate, he buries himself in there for hours, mourning the loss of the bush he loved so much (cue him murmuring something about the little lass being cold because you just took away her covers or something)

Live soap reaction:

Anyways yeah. He would whine about it. It’s so embarrassing already, the way he uses pussy pronouns… it just gets so much worse.

“How could ye do this tae m’wee lady? She’s cold, bonnie. Ye’ve only gone and ripped off her blanket,” he coos, kissing your mound reverently and comfortingly, like he’s trying to soothe a boo-boo. Then he flicks at your clit to make your hole quiver and clench around nothing. “See? Downright shiverin’, she is.”

It’s not long before he’s tongue deep in her, determined to get things warmed up, all while you’re crying through a fourth orgasm. Your lips are reddened and swollen, slick and shiny with his drool and your cum.

And he’s using this as an excuse to constantly be cupping your cunt when you’re together.

[loveergirll]