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dutiful-wildcraft · 6 months ago

Text

Secondhand News

John Price/ plus size F!OC

John Price chases after his sergeants sister, a soft and sweet wildlife rehabilitator in the rural south.

Tags: domestic fluff, critters, poor flirting, and eventual smut. There is also some background romance between the rest of the 141. Please Enjoy <3

Price bounces gently in the back seat of the old SUV, his hand curled over the rain guard from where his arm hangs out of the window. Content to let the warm wind wash over him as they speed down the bumpy gravel road to Darren’s home. Pleased to see the landscape shift from seemingly endless plains of agricultural fields and miles of 2-lane highway, to dense and muggy bottomland filled with oaks and hardy cypress.

Ghost is sitting passenger, mask temporarily pulled down, scarred lips pulled into a knowing smile as he watches Darren fuss stubbornly with the worn out radio. Ghost eventually grows tired of the annoying swap between static and too loud classic rock, giving the knob a quick smack. He reaches over, tugging at Darren’s ear. “Jus’ listen to the wind.” he chastises warmly. Rolling his own window further for added effect. Darren wrinkles his nose in displeasure, growing antsy in his excitement to get home, but holding back his chatter. Price gives him about 5 minutes before he touches the radio again.

This was a well needed “vacation.” Rather, they had been bullied into taking temporary leave, signed and expedited by Laswell herself before the boys could get swept up in another ultranationalist regime. They had been running for months, beaten and exhausted after Makarov. The near miss with Soap had worn heavily on them all, and another group was being pulled online to clean up the aftermath. After a few weeks of huddling with Soap, John had intended to go home to his empty flat in Liverpool, drink himself silly and wait for a call, maybe binge the football games he'd missed in the chaos. Pay his mum a visit.

However it had been Darren’s casual offer that brought him to this portion of the rural united states. Darren, the last to join his task force. A good friend and former teammate of Alex Keller. Price had been pleased with the man’s skills, stealing him like he had done with the others, and Darren’s presence had been invaluable in the hunt for Makarov, securing himself as part of the team as well as snuggling him in just as nicely with his other teammates.

Darren spoke fondly of his home, particularly of his baby sister, whom he fretted for and praised in equal measure. “Ruby’s sharp, smarter than me by a long shot,” he tells them, the 5 of them crammed into their favorite booth of the local pub, “She’s just on her own out there, I know she does just fine, but still.”

Price knew of her, had met her before, years ago at an awards ceremony. She was a pretty thing, all big soft curves and dark freckles on her round cheeks. He’d stolen her to his side most of the night, dancing and laughing, but circumstance had them parting without exchanging contact. Their time together had been brief, but he’d be lying if hadn't layed in bed that evening, hand on his cock as he thought about how the pretty warm thing would sound mewling underneath him.

And maybe some more nights after that.

Price had listened intently when Darren spoke of her. From what he could gather, she was in fact doing just fine. Having been the first to snag a college degree, something to do with animal sciences if he remembered correctly. According to Darren she ran her own small scale wildlife rehab. “Nuthin’ crazy, mostly just the critters folks find hurt or without their mommas” he’d explained in his soft southern drawl. Showing them videos of a fawn trying and failing to walk over his home’s hardwood floors, as a familiar feminine voice encouraged the babe to give it another go, biting off giggles somewhere off camera.

Her laugh was just as sweet as Price remembered, and he’d decided then and there that he would travel to the asscrack of southern america just to hear it again.

It had already been discussed that Soap and Gaz would go to London, spend some time with Gaz’s family while Soap waited for his checkup with a neurologist. Darren would return to his shared home with said sister, Ghost in tow. “You should come too Cap, take a break for a while, it’s outta the way, and we got plenty of space. Ru won't mind!” he’d beamed.

Price had pretended to contemplate before agreeing in mock reluctance, hiding his smirk behind his glass as he downed the rest of his scotch. Sure, why not?

Price’s attention is pulled again as Darren makes another turn down an unmarked road. They trundle along the long gravel drive, through the trees until a house blooms into few.

It’s a two-story, rustic looking thing, with off-white paneling, and dark shingles. The paint is chipping and weeds grow tall around the foundation. What looks to be tractor tires lay on their sides in the front yard, acting as makeshift flower beds for soft purple irises and yellow coneflowers. He figures the place has been around long enough to see several generations come and go.

Price watches curiously as a gaggle of guinea fowl mosey around the front yard, pecking at the ground, unperturbed as the 3 men pile out of Darren’s vehicle. It’s quiet, save for the sound of rustling trees and the soft clucking of more fowl in the back. However, it only takes one slam of the car door to shatter the peace. A loud and vicious snarling and barking comes from inside the home. Something large and apparently very displeased knocking itself against the windows and door of the old house. Price half readies himself as the front door opens, a bulky gray pitbull barreling out and launching over the steps entirely in its haste to reach the men.

The slobbering dog’s demeanor rapidly shifts from violent snarls to whining excitement as he recognizes Darren. Lacking a tail to waggle, the dog’s whole ass-end shakes wildly as it bounces and sneezes around the sergeant, leaning against Darren’s legs bodily.

“Hey, Blue” Darren chuckles, leaning down to give the goofy dog a pat.

Blue breaks away, wiggles turning shy as it snuffles carefully at Simon and Price’s boots, dodging away intermittently at any shift in movement, only to get distracted and start bouncing again as Darren coos. Simon is the first to earn the pup’s trust, angling his body away slightly and crouching. Hands clasped in front of him as he lets the dog get some more sniffs of his t-shirt, eventually Blue settles his heavy head on Simon’s tattooed forearm, trembling slightly in excitement as Simon gives him a rub between the ears.

Next was John, who also crouches, offering a hand palm down for the beast to sniff. The dog obliges, standing stock still as it investigates very seriously. Snuffling with the fervor of a hog at every inch of Price. Eventually Blue sucks in one long drawn out whiff, gears turning as he processes.

The moments tick by as Blue finalizes his decision. Giving an answer in the form of a big bodily sneeze to the captain’s hand.

Scan complete: Test passed.

Pleased, the goofy mutt circles him happily, leaning most of his weight onto John’s legs as he stands. The white’s of Blue’s eyes visible as he cranes his head back to stare at John, wishful for a pat. Of which John obliges after wiping the snot from his hand with a good natured laugh.

“Blue!! Sorry he's a slob!” comes an apologetic call in the distance.

John looks up, heart fluttering like a teenager at the sight.

There she is. His pretty thing, swinging her way out the door and into the yard, looking slightly embarrassed. John tries not to stare at the way her soft body bounces as she trots down the steps.

Darren is quick to snag her up in a bear hug, squeezing her hard enough to knock the wind out of her. She returns with equal fervor, the pair of them grunting with the force of it before setting her down, ruffling her hair to be a shithead for added effect.

She's just as he remembered her, standing a foot or so shorter than her brother. Bulky in the shoulders like him too, albeit much softer. All of her is really, with round freckled cheeks framed by wavy red hair that spilled down her back. Full frame on display in a plain tank and shorts for the humid summer air.

She fixes her hair with a huff, elbowing Darren sharply before grinning at the men with an innocent smile. Fucking adorable. John can't help but smile back.

Darren makes reintroductions, gesturing between them.

“I’m tickled to see you boys again.” she chimes, and John wastes no time, stepping closer and offering a hand.

“We appreciate the hospitality, Miss Martin” John replies warmly, his eyes crinkling in the corners as she accepts. Price’s hand engulfs hers, and he gives her a gentle squeeze, holding on a bit longer than necessary, taking brief pleasure in the way her cheeks flush.

“Ruby’s just fine” she corrects with scrunch of her nose, pulling her hand away to greet Ghost as well. “Sorry about this, I promise I got manners. Darri just told me you guys would be in later.” she says pointedly, giving Darren a look. The soft drawl of her accent was more prominent than her brothers, melodic and laid-back in a way that put Price at ease.

“But I did fetch groceries” she chimes, jabbing a thumb to the black SUV. “Just got back with em’, just need them loaded inside and I can fix us some lunch. You okay with sandwiches Captain?”

“Just John” he corrects easily, “And that sounds perfect.”

“Well alright ‘Just John’, gimme a hand?” she fires back, “You two also, more hands is less work and this midday heat is the worst”

John gives her a curt nod, glancing at Darren who is giving him an unreadable look, and Simon who eyes him knowingly over Darren’s shoulder.

John stares at the back of the SUV. The woman had quite literally bought enough groceries to feed a whole army. Not to mention the extra large sacks filled with various feed for the animals. John wasted no time loading as many plastic sacks along his arms as he could, Darren and Simon following suit. Hauling them in without a sound and dropping them on the kitchen table before fetching more. Ruby hurriedly putting away groceries as an assembly line of men deposited plastic bags along the floor.

John also loads the bags of feed over his shoulders dutifully, trotting back inside, Simon close behind.

“Oh, hey! I just needed the groceries in, I could’ve got that!” she exclaims upon seeing them, eyes wide as both men stand there. Carrying the bags with easy expressions, as if they weighed nothing at all.

“Well I’ve got them, now where do they need to go miss?”

“Ruby” she corrects again, moving closer as if to take them herself. Neither one of them budge.

“Okay, where do these need to go Miss Ruby?” he tries again, cracking a smile at her exasperated expression.

Ruby shoos them outside, pointing to a corner of the porch for them to be deposited, before herding them back inside and to finally sit down at her small round kitchen table.

The kitchen is outdated, with old floral wallpaper, and several well worn rugs placed over scuffed laminate flooring. Faded red plaid curtains hang in the window, illuminating the plethora of cherry themed knick knacks and kitchenware she has displayed along the tops of her cabinets and countertops. He finds himself charmed by the cozyness of it, a welcome change from off white walls and overhead lights.

Darren sits between them, chatting lightly about how the place was once his aunts, passed down to them after she met that fella in vegas. Price's eyes flicker between Darren and the pretty thing puttering around in the kitchen beside him. He loses himself a bit in fantasy, thinking how she would look with a ring on her finger, or wearing his clothes. He wonders if she loves antique malls and shady hole-in-the-wall burger joints.

One step at a time. If Price could do nothing else, he could certainly execute a plan. He would just need to tread carefully. This was one of his sergeant’s siblings after all.

He continues his scan, looking for more clues when a rather curious sound hits his ears. He shifts his attention behind him, watching Ruby pluck store bought grapes from the vine and into a bowl with various other cut up fruits. She examines each one, placing the grapes she deems suitable onto the tray and lowering the unwanted grapes into what he assumed to be a trash can at first. However, shortly after she brings her hand back, a loud and intense smacking follows, seemingly coming from the kitchen floor.

For a split second he is about to tell her it isn't good to feed dogs grapes before Blue comes waddling around the corner, looking properly dejected. The smacking, however, continues, making his brows furrow.

What the hell?

Was there another dog he hadn't spotted?

Price sits up straighter in his chair, straining to see around the little mobile kitchen island. By now the noise has caught everyone’s attention. He gives Darri a questioning look, who only meets him with a mischievous grin, shrugging his shoulders. Look for yourself.

Curiosity gets the better of him, and Price eases himself up, leaning around the kitchen island carefully to finally spot the noisy offender.

Chomping messily on the kitchen mat is a chubby little thing, with wirey white and grey fur, tinges of pink painting the tip of its little black ears. Its white mouth stained pink from its fruit eating. Is that a bloody possum? It rises to its haunches, tugging at Ruby’s pant leg insistently before she lowers it another piece of fruit. It’s tiny pinky fingers snagging it clumsily before it shovels the fruit into its maw, chewing with comically loud smacks and tilting its little head back to help the food slide down. Blue sits around the corner moping, waiting patiently for his own grape that Ruby forbids in a soft voice.

Price watches Ruby wrinkle her nose as pieces of fruit fall in a sticky mess to the floor before clearing his throat politely.

The redhead jumps at the noise, whirling to face him with wide eyes. She stands sheepishly, frozen as her eyes flick between Price and the very obvious possum sitting on her kitchen floor.

She presses her lips together firmly, trying to seal in her laughter as she takes in Price’s bewildered expression. He raises a brow at her, tilting his head to the side in question, and stifled giggles break into a laugh, full and loud, the force of it making her soft body shake. Price laughs too, easing a little closer to get a better look.

“Y’gonna tell me what you got there? Or was I not supposed to see em’?”

“Well you see” she drawls, like a child trying to explain why she shouldn't get in trouble. ”I was gonna give a more formal introduction, but the little shit snuck in once he heard the plastic crinkinlin’.” she laughs, scooping the animal up with a flourish and stepping closer to Price. “This is Cotton, got him when he was just a baby. He’s not fit to go back into the wild, so he just stays with me, does ambassador stuff for the Game and Fish when they need him.” she explains, bouncing the giant rat in her arms like a baby.

She shifts him to her soft hip, its pink tail twisting around her arm for security as it snuffles the air. Ruby scoots close enough for Price to smell the shampoo in her hair, flashing him a grin and swearing Cotton doesn't bite (most of the time). Price studies the animal with an amused expression, letting it sniff his hand before scritching between his ears. He’s much softer than Price expected, the critter grabbing at his hand with cold little fingers, presumably looking to see if he has more fruit to part with.

Price watches as she takes a little tour to the table. Darren giving the possum a familiar, too rough scrub to the head before Ruby rounds to show Ghost. As she approaches the little bastard wiggles from her arms and onto the broad soldier. Scrabbling onto Ghost's shoulders and snuffling in his ears and hair.

Ruby begins to panic, reaching for Cotton frantically, but Ghost holds up a hand, utterly unphased. He sits still, letting the little beast inspect him for a moment before snagging Cotton by the scruff and plopping him in his arms. There is a little amused huff from the large man, who lets the possum settle against his chest as if it were a house cat and not an oversized rodent.

Price smiles at the sight.

What a fun stay this will be.

#john price x oc #price x oc #john price #oc: ruby martin #oc: darren martin #simon ghost riley #call of duty #secondhand news #wildcraft writing #captain john price

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blindmagdalena · 2 years ago

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homie getting creampied by a trans girl reader 🥺

18+. sub/bottomlander, oral fixation, fingering, nipple play, come play/eating, dirty talk.

Homelander is beautiful like this: splayed out before you like a banquet tribute, every piece of him yearning for your approval, your consumption, your love.

You can't help but draw it out when you have him under you, empty and aching, begging for every inch of you. You worked him open with your fingers for what felt like hours, admiring the jolt and slide of his wiry muscles beneath smooth, taut skin.

His belly is tight with anticipation, and it jumps beneath the brush of your fingers. He sucks in a sharp, anticipatory breath. His legs, hitched on either side of you, flex with incomprehensible power. Power that is wholly at your whim.

You wipe your lube slick fingers on the bed before adjusting him in your lap, your blood pounding loud in your ears. Despite your patient teasing, he's not the only one who's eager to do this.

"Are you ready?" You ask, stroking his hip.

He nods. His eyes are bright, bluer than any clear summer sky. He doesn't dare speak in these moments, as if he's afraid it will break the spell the two of you are under, enraptured with each others bodies.

You smile. "Okay. Take a deep breath for me, sweet boy."

As always, he does precisely as you tell him. He inhales slowly, deeply, his chest and diaphragm both filling out. At the same time, you line yourself up with the wet rim of his hole and push, working him open slowly with the head of your cock.

"That's good, you're doing so good, sweetheart," you sigh, rocking your hips, sliding in just a bit deeper with each thrust. The clench of his body is firm, and impossibly hot. He always runs warm, a furnace cuddled up against you, but it's something else entirely to be so close to the heat at the core of him. The scorch of it is divine.

His own cock is heavy, arched over and dripping onto his stomach. It jostles against his skin when you bottom out, and he makes a strained little noise that goes straight to your own cock. He's impossibly sweet beneath you, hands pinned to his sides, curling and uncurling with the unspoken need to touch.

Now that you're settled, you give him the permission you know he's waiting for.

"You can touch me now," you say. Instantly, he lifts his hands to your arms, tugging so lightly you might forget he has super strength. You smile, bending down to meet his lips. Kissing has always been his favorite expression of intimacy. He craves the closeness of it, the removal of expectation for words, the warmth.

You kiss him just the way he likes it, slow and deep. He opens up easily for your tongue, rumbles a pleased little noise as you lick into his mouth.

When you pull back, he chases you slightly before falling obediently back to the bed. He bites his lip in the absence of yours, working it with his teeth. "Need something for your mouth?" You touch his lips with your pointer finger, and he immediately takes it between his lips, sucking. It makes your cock throb inside him.

"Here, come here, sweetheart," you coo, taking your finger from his mouth. You slip your hand beneath his head, and lift him to your chest. He accepts right away, holds you still and takes your nipple into his mouth, grazing the sensitive bud with his teeth before settling into sucking at it. His mouth feels incredible, wet and hungry.

At the same time, you pull back just enough to thrust back into him, wringing a moan from the back of his throat. He's all adorable keening noises and needy tugs, moving his hands from your arms to your waist. He spreads his legs wider, an invitation to go deeper that you happily accept.

"God, you open up so good for me," you moan, pressing a kiss to his the top of his head. "Do you feel good? Tell me how good you feel."

"Feels good," he says against your chest, arching his back, angling himself every way he can to take more of you, feel more of you, be better for you. "Feels so good. Want to—can you go faster?"

After all that teasing, he's been made terribly impatient. His cock is pinned between your bodies, sensitive. You can feel it in the thrum of his body: he's already trying not to come. You exhale a small laugh, maintaining your pace. "You have to ask me nicer than that, baby."

You feel his whole body shudder against yours. It unlocks something wicked in him when you talk like that. "Go on, ask nicely."

"Please," he moans, tipping his head back. "Please fuck me faster."

He's sweet as can be, voice reedy, nuzzling at your chest. He has the power to take what he wants, but he knows how much lovelier it is to be given it, especially by you.

Immediately, you quicken your pace, hips snapping against his in sharp, deep thrusts. He brings his lips to your other nipple, holds you steady by the ribs while he sucks, muffling his moans into your skin. Slipping your hand between your bodies, you wrap your hand around the base of his cock. He sucks in a ragged breath through his nose, eyes screwed shut.

You're close, you can feel it, so you don't stroke gently. You jerk him off tight and fast, faster even than you're fucking him. He throws his head back and cries out, overwhelmed by the suddenness of it. He starts babbling utter nonsense. As illegible as it is, you know he's pleading with you.

"That's it, sweetheart," you say, your own voice thin. "Let me feel you come."

He does immediately. You stroke him through every pulse of it, slicking your hand with his release and dragging it back down his throbbing cock. You're so focused on him that your own orgasm takes you by surprise, erupts from the core of you and spills deep into him. You both moan loudly, bodies gradually slowing against one another, each of you milking the other for every drop.

You slip out of him with a sigh, catching your breath slowly. You sit back on your legs to get a good look at him, his spent cock flopped to one side, his belly a mess of his own release, and his hole dripping wet with yours.

"You're so fucking beautiful," you whisper, slipping two fingers easily into his ass. He makes a weak noise, watching you through bleary eyes. You pump your fingers slowly in and out, making him drip all around them. It's almost enough to get you hard again, sends an aching pang through you.

Glancing up at him, you follow a wicked impulse of your own. Leaning over him, you bring your fingers to his lips. He doesn't so much as blink. There's no hesitation in the way he grabs your wrist, holding your gaze as he takes your fingers into his mouth, weaving his tongue between them, eagerly cleaning your come from them.

"Fuck," you breathe, using your other hand to stroke his hair, settling down against him. "Good boy," you whisper, mesmerized by his cloudy, satiated stare, and the gentle pull of his lips around your fingers. "My wonderful boy."

#homelander x you #homelander x reader #i hope that was okay!!!#i've had this in my drafts for a little while and that sublander post got me in the mood to FINISH it!!!#it started off first time + mommy kink but i was worried that would be too similar to the pegging fic i wrote #anyways! thank you for the lovely ask #my writing #smut #sublander #bottomlander

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