#johnny mactavish x female reader

[leyavo]

John Price had been watching you from afar for five years now. He’d seen the way you’d bit your tongue whilst a male superior chewed you out for making a life or death decision. One that saved their asses.

Your captain’s knuckles hitting your shoulder three times to punctuate his the last three words, “what are you?”

“A stain on your reputation, Captain,” you ground out, hands fisted behind your back as if you’d been made to say it regularly whenever you did something to displease him.

“We’re a team sergeant, everything you do reflects on all of us.”

John too busy trying to stay awake whilst the gash on his forehead was stitched up to say anything. He doesn’t forget that day, like a weird fever dream he wonders what you could be if you were given the opportunity to grow. If someone gave you chance.

What he couldn’t wrap his head around though, was a sergeant on a third performance plan that was still in the same task force. John had seen many dumped on other, smaller units after the first. But you, you were taking whatever they threw at you, simply for being a woman.

It’s no surprise, John knows how most women are treated by their male counterparts in the military. Seen the reports swept away under not enough evidence or much worse, death.

John read through your profile, a long list of reprimanded jargon to keep you in the role of a sergeant whilst others were promoted to lieutenant.

He started to observe you more on the base, gaze wandering to you as your captain yelled in your face. Additional laps for your elbow clipping another sergeant. You ran those ten laps in record timing, he timed it he should know.

Noticed how your team remained silent or sniggered as your superiors made sexist jokes or called you uptight. “Relax sergeant it’s only a joke.” A playful shove to the back of your head.

How you stared at your scuffed boots when your lieutenant got a bit too personal during an active operation, but you ignored him.

It’s not till a merged mission with your task force does John realise the extent of your team’s mistreatment of you. The way you shred your weapons and tactical vest to squeeze through a small opening so you can let them in.

And that’s how you got your call-sign, Bug because you could crawl through small spaces.

Unarmed, alone in hostile territory, but you were more than capable at hand to hand combat and stealth. Soap finding you in the surveillance tower, blood trailing your nose and a stolen machine gun in your grasp.

Nothing, but your tactical vest and gun shoved back into your arms when you meet back up with your team at the end of the successful mission.

“Great work, sergeant,” John says as you walk past him, gloved hand reaching to shake yours.

You stare at it like it’s a loaded gun, but you nod your head and firmly shake his hand. “You too, Captain.”

The murmurs of your task force behind you, “Hurry up, Bug! Or ya walking back.” Chorus of laughter making you retreat from John as if he’d burnt you.

So when John finally gets the funding to add another contractor to the 141, you’re the first one on his mind. Your skillset would be a great asset to his team and he can’t ignore the grit and determination to stick it out with your current lot. Even when you’re mistreated.

And now here you were, standing in front of John’s desk on your first day with the 141. Your hands tucked behind your back, gaze levelled with his as if waiting for a reason to hate him. He doesn’t blame you.

The first women on their task force, that’s what they’re all gossiping about. How you must have slept your way up to the top, there’s no way you’ll be able to keep up with them. Even some betting on your downfall, which Soap and Gaz threatened them to take down.

You warm up to Gaz and Soap quickly, but there’s something holding you back from your interactions with John and Ghost. No teasing or initiating talk outside of your work. Never calling them by their names, just captain and lieutenant.

“Why don’t you tell him to fuck off Bug?” Ghost says, between a mouthful of his food. You hated coming to the canteen at lunch, the busiest period but the guys had dragged you along. “What’s the point,” you shrugged, “they’ll say I’m too sensitive and shouldn’t be in the army if I say shit.”

And that’s when Ghost makes it his mission to get you to fight back. Doesn’t want his team mate to take any shit, from himself or others. Doesn’t matter how thick your skin is.

It takes more than year for you to bite back. Ghost constantly pushing and pushing with his words in hope you’ll finally stick up for yourself. “Pathetic, sergeant try again.” “What is this flirting? Take him down Sergeant!” You’re circling the training mat, Soap and Gaz against you. Ghost’s words getting to you more than you liked to admit. The twitch of your neck, the roll of your shoulders revealing your annoyance. Making it so much easier for Ghost. “Stop dancing around him, Bug!”

Gaz is cringing off the mat, eyes darting between Ghost and you, if looks could kill….your mid sip when the lieutenant speaks again. “Maybe if you loosened up…” Your water bottle hurtling at him, but he catches it easily. “Much better, Bug. Now tell me to fuck off.” Brown eyes glistening beneath his mask. “Oh fuck off you wanker.” His call-sign might as well be wanker now, when you’re not on an active op.

It takes Gaz hours to calm you down, explaining how he’s trying to push you to stick up for yourself.

There’s still some days that catch you off guard though. A little splinter of a reminder that’s deeply ingrained into your being. Where three simple words knock you down a peg or two, promise you a punishment for showing off.

“What are you?” Soap asks, wondering how you figured out a loophole in a software that allowed them to obtain crucial intel.

It’s an innocent question.

John’s quick to notice the frozen response, your head dipping as not to catch Soap’s gaze. “An asset, good work Bug.”

✨ Thanks for reading I hope you enjoyed it :) there might be some errors/mistakes as I'm dyslexic, I do check my work a couple times, but I do miss bits and pieces - Leya

[elysianightsss]

No because girl you NEEDDDDDD to elaborate on this -> Soulmate AU. Poly!141 x neurodivergent!reader <- I will die happily

Elaboratingggggggg🤭🫠

-

You didn’t think that you’d get this far in life, many reasons spring to mind but the main one is you’re a little different than most people. You can’t cope with certain things and struggle with change. You remember growing up your family would brush off your ‘issues’ and say to just deal with it. How little they understood you.

Moving out was the best decision you ever made, the only change you have ever been happy about. It was necessary and would make your life so much easier on a level only you could understand. You could set up your space the way you like it, the way you need it. And with just you, no one would mess with your stuff just to see you loose it as it was ‘funny’ or move things to suit them better.

This way, you could live in peace.

Task force 141 had just finished a successful mission, camping out in one of the many secret safe houses as they waited for further instructions when they had sent Johnny to the shop for supplies. That’s where he saw you, in a Sainsbury’s supermarket of all places, headphones tight over your ears to block out the world while you tried to decide if the extra two, ninety-nine was worth it or not for the soothing lavender face mask you wanted.

Johnny was quick to subtly snap a picture of you and even go as far as to follow you home before bolting it back to the guys to tell them he’d finally found you. Their last soulmate.

As soon as Johnny showed them the image of you, that was it for them. They had to have you. A burning need coursing through their veins, pumping around their bodies. Nothing would ever be enough until they had you in their arms.

But as said and as they observed themselves, you don’t cope with change.

So they had to situate themselves into your life slowly, one by one.

Johnny and Simon moved in next door to you, and lived there for seven months slowly getting to know you and obviously spying on you. They gradually began to understand you and your cute quirks. They know that you eat the same thing for dinner every night, you use the same plate or bowl and wash it straight after use to make sure it is ready for next time.

You have one set of cutlery, one glass and one mug. Two pillows though you only sleep on one and use the other to hug to sleep. And to top it all off you have one recliner chair and one massive beanbag chair that makes you feel like you’re being hugged tight each time you sit on it. It gives you the deep pressure therapy you desperately need at times.

The guys found your habits strange at first but the more time they spent with you, the more they began to understand you. Understand your need for order, for repetition. And they had experienced first hand what happens when change was forced into your safe space.

Johnny had the bright idea to gift you a set of cutlery a few weeks ago so when he and Simon came round for dinner as they did every Thursday for the past four months, they didn’t have to bring cutlery and plates from their own place, it would already be there.

Simon said it was a bad idea but he couldn’t say no to Johnny, not with how happy he looked while he picked out some pretty baby blue plates and silver cutlery with little mushrooms painted at the end. He boasted to Simon about how much you’d love them while they stood in the queue to pay.

He was wrong.

After dinner was cooked you plated up the food no problem thinking the pretty plates were from their house. Then you opened the kitchen drawer only to hear the clutter and smash of cutlery rubbing together. The sound made a ringing pierce your ears, your hands reaching up to cover them. It was like nails on a chalkboard to you. The sound you heard making you panic beyond measure, your breathing out of control as you slid to your knees.

Johnny’s smile dropped and he sprung into action using the deep pressure therapy you had told him about with your beanbag chair. Simon was quick to removed the extra plates and cutlery from where Johnny had put them and take them back to their place before returning ready to help. He knew he’d need to call John and let him know you had had an episode, but helping you came first.

So you liked constant repetition. If it made you happy, that was absolutely fine with them.

Kyle got himself hired as a barista at your favourite cafe, he learned your usual and practiced at home to make sure every morning when you stopped by on the way to work to drink your coffee and sit with your laptop for twenty minutes, you’d have the perfect drink. He made absolutely sure that it tasted the same every single time. No change.

After a couple of months of smiles and waves here and there he finally got you to open up. Baby steps. A little at a time and now Kyle was taking his twenty minute break at your table while you typed up something for work. You always worked so hard. But he managed to get a few sentences out of you each time and it made his heart sing.

And last but not least, John became your new boss after your last one mysteriously got caught for money laundering. Mr Price was an amazing boss, he didn’t ask for much and was always giving you big opportunities that you’d only ever dreamed of. You had been promoted twice since he became the CEO.

You were now executive editor under him as the chief editor at one of the best publishers in the country. Pirons Classics, number two in the UK and number four in the World. To say the guys were proud that you worked there in the first place was an understatement. Their smart girl.

He called you sweet nicknames and brought you lunch everyday. The same thing, a pesto and cheese sandwich and a snack of your choosing from the vending machines. You don’t remember when it started but you were always too shy to say anything so it became a regular thing.

If you were to sit and think real hard about the situation you would realise how changes had been introduced into your life ever since the four of them appeared. But they were subtle changes and you genuinely couldn’t remember a time when these changes weren’t normal. On top of that, these four men were the only people besides yourself, that you felt comfortable, relaxed and content around.

So for the first time you don’t sit and think, for the first time you just let it happen and you don’t notice the difference.

Johnny and Simon were more involved with you than the other two. They were the closest to you currently with the status of your best friends which Johnny most certainly bragged to the other two about. You had known them for almost a year now and they didn’t exactly hide their romantic relationship but didn’t exactly flaunt it either.

You had found it kinda hot when you saw them kiss and even though it was unusual for you, you luckily managed to keep your mouth shut about it.

You had no idea they had noticed.

[dmitriene]

continuation to this work

cw: possible authority, threesome, gangbang, comfort part with tears.

you're doing your best for simon riley, your lieutenant, one and only man you offer your body and soul to so rawly, hold out in your shaking palms for him to do anything he pleases, and you wouldn't refuse, as obedient, sweet like a pup he raised all for himself, accepting everything he gives you, any word, command, caress or a harsh, possessive tug.

shaped for him, you learn to arch your back sharp and wait, in his quarters, on his dark sheets, naked and presenting, doesn't matter if simon comes in tired, angry or almost boneless, he indulges in your sweet body anytime he can, calloused fingers skimming down the fragile curvature of your spine, pressing, circling at the tender skin, knowing that you're already dripping down your quivering thighs.

simon invited john to your sacred relationship, letting him indulge in your tight, pliable hole, always messy, stretched out around your lieutenant's thick, engorged cock and dripping out frothy globs of cum, soaking in the rumbled sheets below your twitching body, price doesn't waits anymore before sinking in, filling you pleasantly, cock heavy and fat, nudging against your spongy spot and making you claw forward.

nuzzling against simon's muscular thigh, his cock leaking precum against the small pudge on his stomach, you whine out, voice already slurred, stuttering little calls to them both, as john's drawn out, deep ruts of hips jolt your body forward, folding your knees against your tummy by the force of his body, slotting over your back, making you slump and cry weakly in filling pleasure.

and if you accepted price, sure there shouldn't be any problem if simon will invite two more, johnny and kyle, you hear their names buzzing in your ears, clogged, unable to comprehend anything more than the heavy weight of john's flaccid cock on your drooling, wriggling tongue, he's spent already, pumped you full enough so his seed would dribble out, now contented to just smooth his rough palms over your warm, hollowed cheeks.

body fervent, you're already too overstimulated to proceed, your cunt twitching and leaking loads of cum, but when simon pats down the swell of your ass, thumb spreading at the fat, revealing your swelling hole, purring how obedient and pretty you are, you can't say no when he asks if boys can have a taste, eyes wide and excited, cerulean blues meeting the honeyed irises, so easy to make their cocks hard in their cargos, as they marvel at the sight of you.

no matter what, it's still simon in who's hands you end up, snuggled tight against his solid, heaving chest, little hairs that dust his skin are a soothing caress against your wet cheeks, heat dissipating from your skin slowly, you cried, when it's all got too much, their cocks, their hands, playful kisses bordering on aggressive and back, rugged, tanned skin turning into ebony, softened, and then repeating, johnny and kyle both different sides of each other, but able to act together as if synchronized.

simon didn't made you wait when you started crying, worried, eyes crinkled, furrowing alongside his brows at such emotional display, he wasn't interested if they got enough of you, batting an urgent, heavy hand and making them all take a step back, john already dressed and confused, arms crossed tight over his chest, murmuring something to the boys, nothing you can remember, before ending up tucked under clean, cottony sheets.

when you start to recognize your surroundings back again, twisting to the side a bit, the arm around you tightens, muscular, wretched with tattoos, simon, you think contentedly, and seems by the grumble he let out, vibrating away from his chest, you croaked his name out, as he brushed a soothing thumb over your tummy, cupping at the supple skin, making you mold back against his body, mind dissolving back into the deep slumber.

you can be your lieutenant's pup, but he's responsible for your well being and comfort, and should you show any signs of being uncomfortable, hurt, or worse, simon is overtaken with a primal need, to protect, to heal, and to soothe, hide you in his embrace from the overwhelming world around.

main masterlist. quidelines.

[fictionismyreality3]

Penpals with the 141

Warnings: stalkerish behaviour at the end teehee 🤭

Notes: if only I had a hot military man or men to send letters to 🤷🏻‍♀️😩

It started out as just another way to keep the boredom away. Sending care packages to military members was also a plus. You'd be staying busy and doing a good deed at the same time. You found some trustworthy-enough organization, signed up, and sent out your first letter along with a few goodies like choclates and warm socks.

The 141 had never really thought much about getting care packages from civilians. In their eyes it was just a good way to get the things they missed out on while on deployment. Most of the letters got tossed as soon as they opened the box.

That was until they got yours.

The stupid little smiley face drawn on the cardboard shouldn’t have stopped Simon in his tracks, but he found himself staring down at the doodle.

"L.T? Y'been standin' there fer a good 15 minutes." Soap remarked.

"S'that your favourite candy, right?"

Soap was swayed by the chocolate oranges, finding himself reading your letter as he scarfed down each wedge. The curly handwriting, the crossed out and rewritten words had him showing the letter to Gaz, and then Price. Soon you found yourself in an almost penpal situation. Over the exchange of more and more letters, you were able to dicern the personalities of each man who was writing to you.

There was Soap, who wrote in barely legible chicken scratch, often skipping words or even entire sentences, like he was thinking too fast for his hand to keep up. Always calling you 'bonnie' or 'lass'.

Gaz, who wrote much more formally. His hand writing was the best to read, neatly printed on the lines of the paper. You got the sense that he sat down and put his whole attention into writing back to you.

Ghost, who's name you were yet to learn, tacked on his responses at the end of the paper. It was rare to get more than a few sentances from him, and even rarer for them to be anything but small talk. Slowly, he began to open up, asking you how you were or if your boss had resolved that HR issue yet. How did he know that?

Price, who'd quickly insisted on you calling him John— makes me feel old, luv— was the one who you seemed the most interested in your life. You chalked it up to him wanting to have something to think about other than his life threatening job.

Questions about your living situation, your job, your hobbies, it all seemed like small talk. Easy enough to look over. And then came the questions about your bills. Does your job pay enough? When's the last time you've been on vacation? What does your ideal living situation look like? Are you in a relationship?

It wasn't just John who was asking. So were Gaz, Johnny, and even Ghost began to inquire about more personal details. Every time you got a letter, it was almost a pavlovian response for your cheeks to blush. You looked forwards to the letters from your far away military men, and they even sent you gifts!

A watch, just like the one on your pinterest, wrapped up in a pretty pink bow. They added on such a sweet note too.

"Synced up to our watches." Ghost.

"Thought you needed a little treat." Gaz

"Here you go, bonnie! Now you can know when we're awake!" Soap.

"Let me know if you need it tightened, sweetheart." John.

They didn't feel the need to tell you about the favour they called in with Laswell to get the micro-tracker added, or about the camera and microphone they planted in the watch face. You looked so pretty with it on anyways, they'd need to make sure nobody stared too long.

[tempfrangit]

doe-eyed

Johnny x F!Reader, 1.4k, 18+ smut summary: You're going to let some alpha fuck you because you're broke and just happened to get the call. Thank you for your service. inspired by @syoddeye's rut kinktober fill cw: omegaverse, breeding kink, technically dubcon because heat/rut? banners by @/cafekitsune

The alpha’s scent sends a tingle straight down to your pussy. It was clean and sharp, like pine, but charred at the edges in a way that made the hair on the back of your neck stand on end deliciously. Your pre-heat is finally settling. You'd been able to smell him from the first moment you stepped out of the SUV, totally thrown off by your surroundings.

Like a fox let loose for the hounds to chase.

Of course, you'd been prepared for this, even if it was your first time being called. You'd willingly chosen to sign up for this job after your degree left you in debt past your means, even after graduation, while you worked two jobs.

Still, you don't expect the door to rip itself open as you approach the cabin, spine stiff as an iron rod. A gasp escapes as you freeze. The entire speech you've been coached through leaves your head in an instant as you blink up at him owlishly.

He's big, stocky like a rugby player with a surprisingly straight nose for the energy he exudes. A real alpha, not like the ones you'd messed around with in uni, testing the waters but never taking the plunge, not wanting to be just some omega. Part of you wants to run. But most of you can't help how your heartbeat quickens. How you can feel yourself get wetter.

You don't even know when he'd slung you over his shoulder, trudging back to the cabin like this was the same shit every day. And for all you knew it was.

Once the door's shut, you're set onto your feet and pressed against the hard wood. He grinds against your clothed pussy like a beast, hot breath puffing against your protective collar with an edge of distaste as his hands snake up the skirt of your dress.

An ice rock of unexpected shame forms in the pit of your stomach, and you've never been more embarrassed in your life. You’d assumed you’d been chosen because you were close to your heat, but the lack of approval cut deep.

“Off,” he snarls, and before you can even to offer to remove your panties you feel the pinch of them being pulled and digging into the soft meat of your hips before the fabric tears.

This time you stop yourself from gasping, swallowing it back. You force yourself to lean against the door, bracing against your forearms, doing your best to present like this, deep arch already making your back ache dully. To be the perfect little submissive omega.

His approving rumble of a purr makes you shiver, pressing your cheek against the cool door as you ease back into situation. Or maybe that's your heat finally rearing it's head, as his scent washes over you. Vaguely, you hear the rustling of fabric, but even the thought of the sound leaves your brain as you feel the tip of his cock slide against your slit. Your slick helps the glide of his next thrust. The feeling of his thick cock fucking between your pussylips has you shudder. A soft whine leaves your lips, properly needy as you grind against him.

That earns you a swat, a slight growl of appreciation. "Tha’s right, doe. Ya want it, don’t ya?"

And you nod, face burning at the admission. Of course, you can't turn down the opportunity to peek over your shoulder to get a better look at the guy who's gonna be fucking you.

If you'd run into him at a club, you would have let him take you home. His eyes are the prettiest blue you've ever seen, thick dark lashes framing them, and near feverish with his rut. Thick dark hair shaved into a mohawk, stubble growing on his jaw. Part of you kinda hopes he’ll knock you up. Oh — oh you’re definitely thankful your heat's hitting you but you do not want to entertain that. Still, you can feel slick dribbling out of you, know that your scent flares.

A sharp inhale is your only warning before he tilts his hips, notching the thick head of his cock against the opening of your pussy and burying himself to the base.

The air leaves your lungs in a rush, brain blue screening as you try and fail to comprehend how utterly full you are suddenly. When he begins to thrust without giving you a moment to adjust, pulling nearly all the way out before slamming his hips back into yours like a rutting beast, you can’t help the sound you make. Something guttural, animalistic in response as your body is rocked into the wood.

He wasn’t holding back at all, warm breaths huffing against your neck as he fucked into you. Again, you're trying to tilt your hips but this time it's to get him to thrust against just the right spot. He was good. He had to know he was good, because holy fuck.

You don't even realize the high pitched whining sound that you'd been hearing was coming from you, until another crack of pain on across your ass shocks you back into your body. You'd been too focused on all the places he'd been hitting inside you, as he jackhammers his hips, and your face is burning.

No, you were burning up in general. The delicious heat that licked through you each time he thrust into you entirely made your legs feel weak. The hot breaths panting against the base of your neck, the wispy curls hairs there, sends electricity down your spine. The edge of a tooth presses against your jaw and it startles you so much you come.

And even spasming on his cock, he doesn't stop.

“Johnny," Johnny growls into your ear, thrusts turning urgent, "call me Johnny and tell me to knock yer cunt up.”

You're pretty sure you follow his orders as he keeps fucking you.

You know you beg him for his knot, and that earns you a snarl. Pain rips through your pleasure as you feel the soft skin of your back break. Just below your collar. Your thighs are shaking as you come again.

You're too hot.

Blinking awake groggily, you realize you don't remember making it to the bed last night.

Johnny had fucked you against the door upon your arrival, then on the floor after he caught his breath, cradling you on your side as his knot had kept you close to him. Then he'd seemed to have calmed down enough to come to his senses. He'd gulped down water, pressing his lips against yours to force some into your own mouth, and keeping yourself hydrated hadn't even occurred to you. You hadn't realize how thirsty you were as your heat ebbed slightly, still feeling like you were warm to the touch as you panted against his chest. Then he'd fucked you over the arm of the couch. Which you'd surely ruined after squirting down it. You hadn't even known you could squirt like that.

At the thought of water, you untangle yourself from the human furnace that's wrapped around you. Prying his fingers off your arm as gently as you can before you practically fall out of bed.

You're not too proud to drink out of the bathroom faucet, too relieved by the cool liquid pouring into your mouth to care. Blinking at yourself in the mirror, you twist slowly, trying to get a good view of your back. Your collar was still safely in place, but the skin around the edge was decorated with marks, nips where he'd buried his teeth in you.

Why did that make you so wet?

You don't even notice him in the mirror, before thick arms are wrapped around you and you squeak, jumping but being held firmly in place by the alpha you'd spent the night getting your brains fucked out by.

“Fuck, you smell better than I remember,” his breath tickles your ear as he sniffs at you, rumble in his voice as he begins to rub his stiffening cock against the fat of your ass.

“Better?” You breath the question, spreading your thighs enough that you can grind back against him. While you don't fully understand, you're not about to let the warmth that's sparking in your belly.

“When I picked you months ago,” Johnny breathes between tracking kisses along your jaw, “knew you were it fer me when they gave me yer scent sample. Take this fuckin' thing off, bonnie, lemme bite you 'n' breed you 'n' give you everythin' you want.”

Maybe you are like every omega, pleased to be chosen by a big alpha who can pick you up like you're nothing, fuck you full. What's wrong with that?

You're fingers pull desperately at your collar, trying to work it loose as fast as you can.

[storiesaplenty]

Who fucked you better? (18+)

141 Task Force x f/Reader

Call of Duty Masterlist

This has not been proofread. Please enjoy though.

Warnings: swearing. Smut below the cut. Unprotected sex. P in V. Oral. Creampie. Anal sex. Use of toy. Recording sexual acts. Oral (m receiving) cum swallowing. Ball sucking. Cowgirl.

WC: 1740

Divider by @strangergraphics

©️ storiesaplenty 2024: do not repost or translate my work. This is the only place I post my work.

Captain John Price

"Yes, love, let them all hear you." John groaned as he fucked into you from behind. You are flat against the bed, your hips slightly raised just enough for him to pound you into his mattress.

His hips slamming off your ass making you cry out his name as you reach back and place one hand on his stomach to try and get him to slow down, but he has a point to prove, not only to himself, but to you and his men.

He slapped your hand away, reaching around your body to grip you by the neck and pull you against his hairy body.

"Who the hell do they think are? Huh?" His thrusts were now hard, rough, choppy.

"John please." You whined.

"Asking if I can take care of you? Think they can love you like I can?"

"No." You whimpered, your pussy clenching around his cock at how possessive he was being."

"Think anyone of those 'boys.' can fuck you like I can? Make you cream the way I know how? Bet they couldn't make you squirt? Oh no, only I can." John groaned into your ear, is end drawing near.

"Bet none of them can make you go stupid with just their cock? My smart woman goes all dumb the moment my cock is in one of your pretty, little holes."

"John!" You practically scream as you came. Your pussy clenching so tight around his cock that John followed right behind you.

His hips stilling against your ass as he cums inside of your pussy, making you softly moan at how he is filling you.

"You better?" You finally asked, pulling away from him with your wobbly legs, to go over to the dresser and turn off the camera, hitting send to send to the group chat that you have with the guys.

"Much better darling." John said, as he grabbed a cigar and lit it, hearing your phone vibrate as you kiss your way down his hairy, sweaty body, taking his softening cock in your mouth and sucking.

"Can't wait to see what you do with the others. Those lads trying to prove how good they can fuck you, compared to me."

Sergeant Kyle “Gaz” Garrick

"Relax baby. I got you." Kyle said as he trailed his hand down your back, as he pushed his thumb in your tight, ass.

You were trying to relax, you really were, but it has been a bit since he fucked you there.

Kyle put the tip against the hole as he pulled his thumb out, and slowly started to push in, making you gasp out his name.

He had his phone set up to record the two of you as he slowly pushed his cock into your ass.

He had another spare phone, pointing at your ass to record him sinking into your ass, until his hips were flushed against ass.

"Oh fuck." He quietly moaned as every single inch was inside of you. Your body was trembling at how full you fell.

He put a vibrating dildo in your pussy earlier as he has seemed to turn up the vibration making your eyes screw shut as you moan out his name, squeezing his cock with your ass.

"Gonna make me cum before I can give you a proper fucking." Kyle warned as he pulled back and thrust his hips forward, forcing a whine from your lips.

Kyle kept the slow pace, making you go crazy, as you needed more, even though by now you didn't know how to voice it, going dumb on his cock.

You moved your ass back each time he thrust back into you.

"You need me to go faster love?" He asked with a smile on his face.

"Yes, faster. Need it." Came the jumbled words spilling from your lips.

That was all Kyle needed to plunge his cock over and over again into your hole, making you scream his name, not caring about if anyone could hear you.

You collapsed forward, turning your face towards the one phone, your mouth hanging open as he fucked you.

Kyle placed one foot on the bed, making him feel even deeper inside of you.

He was groaning behind you, but you couldn't make out what he was saying as you cried out his name as another orgasm was pulled from you.

Your pussy and ass squeezing the dildo and his cock as he fucked your ass through your orgasm.

You lost track and how much you have cum by the time Kyle stilled, flushed against your ass as he groaned, loudly as he filled your hole with cum.

He couldn't help himself as he pulled back just to push back in a few times.

Kyle pulled out and brought the phone down to watch as his cum leaked out of your stretched hole, the vibrating dildo still in your pussy.

"Mmmm, I like to see any of them top that." Kyle said, issuing another challenge to the final two.

Sergeant Johnny “Soap” MacTavish

Johnny's name came out like a prayer as you rode him. His strong hands gripping your waist, helping you set the pace which you both need.

You have nothing idea which angle he is filming the two of you from.

"It's a suprise." He told you as he wrapped your hair around his fist as he fucked your face earlier.

The remnants of that drying on your lips and chin. The taste of him still fresh on your tongue.

But that seemed like a distant memory as the tip of his cock seemed to be nudging your cervix, making sure you remember him for days after this.

Your third orgasm of the night already knocking at your door as you grinded in his lap.

"So deep." You cried out.

"Yeah I am love." Johnny said, smugly, as he braced his feet on the bed and started to thrust up into you, making you brace your hands on his chest, digging your nails into his skin, leaving little indents there.

Suddenly, he wrapped his arms around your waist, flipping you the two of you over, so he is hovering above you.

Johnny leaned back, his cock still nestled inside your pussy, as he gripped your calves and pushed your legs towards your chest, making your eyes roll into the back of your head at the first hard thrust.

Your mouth hanging open as he fucked you at a rough, brutal pace that had your mouth fall open in a silent scream as he pulled another orgasm from you.

Your body shaking at how intense this orgasm is.

"Fuck." Johnny grunted as he pulled out, jerking his cock as stood up on the bed, to stand above you before sitting on his knees, which are now placed on either side of your head.

You take his balls in your mouth as he jerks his cock off above you.

Johnny is looking down at you, as you pull your mouth back from his balls, making a popping sound.

He moved down a bit just to place the tip of his cock on your tongue just as you closed your mouth around the tip.

Johnny's moans seemed to bounce off the walls as he came in your mouth, you quickly swallowing as fast as you can.

"Fuck me." He groaned as he got off the bed, grabbing a phone from one of his hiding places.

He trailed it up and down your body, until stopping at your face.

"Oh, you missed a bit there." Johnny said as he swiped his cum from the corner of your mouth with his thumb, placing it in your mouth as he closed your eyes, sucking his finger clean.

"Yes, that's it." Johnny said to you, tossing his phone to the side to go for another round.

Lieutenant Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley

"Si," You couldn't even get his name out, your head leaning against his chest.

Your arms were reaching behind you, holding onto his neck, his hands spreading your thighs wide as his cock was nestled inside your pussy.

That is already sensitive due to Simon spending what felt like an eternity between your legs, making you cum on his and fingers twice.

All of a sudden, Simon stood up, his arms moving under your thighs, moving you up and down his cock, like you weighed nothing.

Simon moved the two of you, never once leaving your oussy as he halted in front of the full length mirror.

"Open your eyes." He grunted, you not even realising that your eyes were closed .

You forced your eyes open to watch as he moved you uo and down, his cock disappearing in and out of you.

You could see how wet you were as your juices coated his cock.

You couldn't believe that you could actually take all of him inside of you.

The others are big, but Simon, Simon is thick and long.

"Look at how well you take me, eh love."

He moved you up and down on his cock, faster and faster until you became almost limp on his arms as you came around his cock.

Simon quickly pulled out of you and turned you in his arms, before tossing you on the bed, you landing on your stomach.

Simon moved you onto your knees before grasping your hips and thrusting inside you once more before you could even blink.

Simon fucked you like there was no tomorrow, and you swear you blacked out every few moments.

"Yes, squeeze my cock lovie." Is what you heard as you woke up to you coming around his cock, him fucking you through your orgasm.

Simon changed the angle of his hips and was hitting that spot inside of you that had you screaming his name as he pulled orgasm after orgasm from your quivering body.

Simon finally stilled, his hips flushed against your ass as he came with a grunt.

His cum filling you as he smacked your ass a few times, making you yelp, and squeeze his cock with your pussy one final time.

"Shit love." Simon groaned as he pulled out of you.

You collapsing on the bed, not watching where he was walking too.

You felt your phone land next to you, and you could see the screen lighting up from the group chat.

They were each asking the same question.

'Who fucked you better?'

[femalefemur]

18+ minors do not interact!

warnings: dubcon, noncon, please let me know if i missed anything!

heart eyes but it's simon and johnny stalking the sweet thing that they see regularly at a coffee shop they frequent and setting out to kill her valentines date so that they can have her all to themselves. dressed in all black leather with masks made from what seems like skin, the eyeholes in the shape of hearts for valentines day and johnny's mask having the seam at the top split to let his mohawk show.

the only thing they didn't count on was her fighting back with all the strength and anger in her body. smashing furniture on them, throw garbage bins, using anything and everything she could get her hands on to fend them off and save her date and herself.

poor sweet thing not realising that her ferocity only made them want her more, such a perfectly feisty thing for them to play with so they drag it out. they allow her and her date to escape, run about the city to get away from them, not that she could every truly get away from them.

they watch her scramble to find something to use as a weapon, watch as she trips and scrapes her arms and knees, gather cuts and bruises on her pretty body.

they watch the fear and determination in her eyes as she hits them, fighting against their grasp on her as she kicks and scratches at them, escaping and bolting like a stray cat that you got too close to.

unfortunately for her it doesn't go how she wanted, trapped in an abandoned church with her date and fighting for her life against two men who are built like brick walls. unable to escape as she throws candelabras at them and half burned prayer candles.

yelling and hissing at them until her date is ripped from her grasp and his neck snapped like a twig, the game of cat and mouse coming to an end.

a terrible sickly end where johnny and simon grip her face and pout her lips. making her recite wedding vows at the broken alter and kiss them over their mask where they've smeared the blood from their wounds where the mouth is into a happy smile.

the heart eyes of their masks taunting her as they press into her sides and let her feel how hard they are before bending her over on the ground and fucking her until she's leaking with both of them.

simon reaching in to swirl their cum together with his finger before scooping some and pushing it past her lips like communion, bonding them together forever.

[j0hnpr1c3sm1ssus]

Would love to read something about Johnny or price grovelling to the missus after an argument or something and her making him work for it

Omgg this is Johnny coded (though I might redo this one and do Price instead because like... Yeah :) )

Warnings: mentions of smut, but other than that it's good :)

AN: I'm sick rn, but I was less lethargic while writing this!

"Bonnie.." he whines out, head resting on your stomach, "c'mon.. gimme a break.."

Johnny acts like this every *single* time you both argue. His fault or yours, he always gets those stupid(ly adorable) puppy dog eyes and huffs and pouts until he gets his way -straight inside you.-

"I said 'm sorrae, lovie... I meant it," Johnny mumbles out, reaching up and out to grab your breasts.

You let out a scoff, "John." He's immediately deterred, pulling his hand away and letting it waver in the air.

"Bonnie."

"What are you trying to do here, hm?" You ask, crossing your arms. He sits up beside your figure, resting his hands awkwardly in his lap.

"Bonnie.." he tries again, a slight whine to his voice, "C'mon.. y'know I wan'it, an' you're wantin' too, your panties are probably sopping."

You flush at the comment, he wasn't necessarily wrong, but it annoyed you.

"No, Johnny. You can't sleep your way into being forgiven," you say, trying your damnedest to hold out and not be spread out over your bed in about five minutes. He pouts a little harder, this time leaning in.

"Bonnie.." he whines, closing the distance and softly kissing you. You let him do this, kissing back with no ferver or fire. He groans in annoyance and pulls back, grabbing your jaw and turning your face, "Don' be a sourpuss, bonnie.." he grumbles, causing you to chuckle.

He leans in again and kisses you, it's romantic and nice and perfect--just like Johnny. This time you kiss back, your lips a soft embrace over his own. He cups your cheeks, climbing on top of you when you break away.

"You cheeky devil.." you mumble, arms going around Johnny's neck, shaking your head.

"I know I am, you love i', bonnie," he responds, straddling your hips and leaning in to kiss you again. His hands cradle you, holding you like you're special and need to be loved. He pulls back after a small peck, looking into your eyes, almost expectantly.

You let out a heavy sigh, "I always cave," you grumble, rolling your eyes before saying, "Yes, you're forgiven."

He leans in eagerly, kissing you with all the passion he can muster. His tongue is running along your bottom lip, his hands holding you against him.

Needless to say he's forgiven.

[bunnyinvanilla]

Soap has found a playful way to entertain yourselves with the new lights you’ve bought for the Christmas tree…

| 🍪 mdi please, suggestive, fem!reader is 21 and johnny is waaay much older, I had this one shot in mind for a while and thought I would write it down for soapy (probably first and last time cause I’m a loyal price girlie)

“don’t really trust these things ‘nny…”

your sweet voice is tinted with worry and hesitation as you wiggle your wrists, the motion only tightening the knot that bounds them together over your head and against your mattress “what if they start burning?”

johnny, as the faux gentleman he is, coos condescendingly down at you, but the sound that was meant to be reassuring reverberated like a deep, sultry growl in your ears — almost mocking.

“christmas lights that burn at the touch were a thing back in the 80’s, lass, not now,” he lectures you amusedly, his words inevitably pointing out to your evident large age gap — perhaps too large.

“they were so pretty, they played Christmas music an’ ye could hear it all the way from yer room... but ye werenae even born yet at that time, bonnie lass, ye couldnae know about it”

he lets out a rough chuckle, eyes fixed on the way the colorful lights shine over the skin of your wrists at an alternated rhythm, your belly twists with the familiar warm tingle that makes you blush every time he reminds you of how much, much older than you he was.

“you’re going to break them, we’ve just bought them” you whine, raising your head against the pillows to look at the colorful bulbs that tie your hands together, orange, green, red and blue alternating their shimmering “we have to put them on the tree”

“don’t worry, dove, won’t,” he smirks down at you, scarred hands ready to uncover the treasure that lies between your legs — they start pulling down the fluffy pajama pants you’re wearing, the tip of his calloused fingers tracing a hot trail along your thighs “n if I do, I’ll get ye new ones before Christmas Day comes”

once your lacy white panties are revealed, he nearly purrs at the sight, the best gift he could ever get lying down underneath him, ready to be unwrapped, his pretty, sweet girl. “I’ll make ye feel s’good ye won’t even have to write any letter to Santa, ye’ll give me all the cookies”

he must’ve been a pretty good lad all year to deserve such a precious thing as you.

“y’trust yer man, right dove?”

it’s hard not to crumble down like gingerbread cookies with the way he looks at you, cunning and sly eyes pouring down all the love and desires he has for you — so you just blink cutely at him, red, puffy cheeks and fluttering, big eyes. “i do…”

he grins at that, his hand swiftly grabbing his buckle and almost ripping the zipper down, his other hand tugs you in by your waist, harsh enough to press his crotch against your blossom and hips slam together.

“that’s my pretty girl, I’ll take ya to the bookstore right after, what’ya say? ye can pick however many ye want and I’ll get ye hot chocolate, deal?”

and with that, he knows you’re sold.

[leyavo]

Soap fiddling with his necklace when he’s nervous, biting the silver cross or kissing it for luck before he starts a mission.

One day he plucks a gold chain from his t-shirt and a St. Christopher pendant balancing between his lips. He never wears gold, but he tucks it away explaining how it’s for protection and guidance. The guys assuming it’s another gift from his religious grandmother.

Every now and then Soap’s fingers trace the pendant through his clothes as if he’s searching for guidance. The faith to return home.

But it’s not till Gaz is getting stitched up back at base that he notices the silver cross necklace on you (Medic!reader).

Uncanny how it’s bent in the centre, just like Soap’s all thanks to a bullet (he forgot to tuck it back under his shirt). He squints his eyes and would you look at that even his initials are engraved in to it.

Soap swapping his necklace every time with you when he leaves/returns. A promise of seeing you again.

Always having a part of each other.

[elysianightsss]

I need to know how that neurodivergent sweetheart and Johnny and Simon reacted when she saw them kiss! It was so cute.

The first post

-

When you first saw them kiss you felt this need to squeeze your thighs together, but the shock overcame it. You didn’t even remember it happened, until they did it again.

Johnny kissed Simon so sweetly, just a peck on the lips as he went to go refill your glass of water. Once again you found yourself getting warmer as your thighs tightened under the table, something Johnny’s keen eyes honed in on as he placed your newly refilled glass on the table in front of you. Those same eyes sliding over to Simon with an ignited spark shining in them.

Johnny was ravenous that night, “-you didn’t see her Si.” He groaned, a pleasant sigh escaping his plump lips straight after. He’d never felt so hot, his body burnt with desire, skin flush with the need for you. Simon had never seen Johnny like this before, yes he was eager but this was something else entirely.

-

From then on Simon and Johnny were hell bent on being affectionate in front of you to see your reactions. They were so pretty and so precious.

A peck on the lips, a large hand on a large thigh, even an arm around a shoulder. It all made you hot and bothered, your face burning with embarrassment. Because it was embarrassing to you, you’re blatant what for them. You’d thought at first that it wasn’t them and it was just their relationship, maybe you finally wanted that type of companionship.

But the more you were with them the more you knew it was them you wanted.

[ryuzakemo128]

Beyond Comprehension

Pairing: John 'Soap' MacTavish x Italian! Goth! Female Reader

Content Warnings: Swearing, cussing, smutty implications, college au!, John 'Soap' MacTavish is a popular football player, Female reader is studying in Forensics Pathology & Anthropology, Female reader is Italian, Female reader's aesthetic has a gothic aesthetic overall.

Summary: How come he never remembers you saying them to him? How come he never remembers how they sound until this moment?

Divider Credit: @cafekitsune + @strangergraphics

Masterlist

Note: Inspired by 'Tomb' written by H.P. Lovecraft. I also made the female reader intense on purpose..

Word Count: 1547

‘Sedibus ut saltem placidis in morte quiescam.’ – Virgil. (English translation: At least in death I may find a quiet resting place.)

The mansion you have been born and raised into. The half-hidden house of death. Unknown to the throng considered to be a majority of civilian life. Opulent in design. Yet the stench of death and decay from the cemetery attached to the family churchyard, which still remains in your family’s name to this present day.

The overview of the woodland slopes painted with the earths finest bristles. Painting a lustrous colour palette range of greens, browns, and greys. The look over the city lights from the balcony like floating tea lights.

If you had not discerned for yourself. The means of how lavish your lifestyle if depicted and sculpted into. The gilding of gold in the nooks and crannies of your familial mansion. A display of white and gold.

You are indeed wealthy beyond the necessity of a commercial lifestyle. Unfitted for typical formal studies and social recreations. Your peculiar temperament in discerning a cause of death or why someone might have died has always tickled your fancy. Macabre is the most ‘fitting’ description of you. The one told by your kin.

Other equally strange pursuits you have lay in the art of taxidermy and preservation of animals after their passing. You don’t turn from the potential disgust it may bring unto others. Even as you lean into the art of death and decay.

These discerning passions do well in dispelling your keenest impatience of waiting for the next class to come forth. You are burning hot with eagerness to learn more of death. To hold knowledge people. The ones who dare not search for in the black abyssal seas.

A beckoning gloom of your quarters or ‘dorm’ depending on which term you would prefer. The hellish confinement of your social life is stifling at best and contentious at worst. Your nocturnal rambles seek shelter and safety within your sanctum. Those who believe things are better left almost forgotten for many generations.

Death had repelled you and bewitched you all at once. Like a snare you can’t bring yourself to crawl away from. Who were any of them to deny you such things, such idle flights of fancy many denied themselves. Who were they in the art of decay?

As you peruse the textbooks pertaining to the knowledge required in Forensics Pathology and Forensics Anthropology. Emboldened by the heaven-sent circumstance you walk into. Despite all your efforts to enclose yourself inside your own earthly desires.

How did you think John MacTavish found you hunched over an ancient tome reading about the deaths of people you deemed preventable. At least as preventable as they could have been. If only they knew of your existence, the world would be a different place. Had they known to do anything other than the path they have chosen would the world be better?

‘Who are we to ourselves if we are denied truth?’ you questioned inside your handwritten cursive notes. Pure existential dread taking over the recesses of your mind it seems. Philosophically overriding the sense of living you have inside your ribcage. One of which life must come first before we eventually descend unto death itself.

‘Is this how philosophers go made? It seems I am at the moss covered door step of madness and teetering on the edge of my own sanity.’ Another handwritten note inside your death smelling journal.  

‘In my peculiarities am I truly doomed to walk upon  this earth alone?’ you questioned further in your heavily pressed written notes. Recent. Too recent. The ink painted upon the black textured page hadn’t dried just yet.

You had hoped John would have forgotten about that kiss you gave him while you were pissed drunk off your three shark themed cocktails which were strong enough to make him question where your hunger in that kiss came from suddenly. Something about ‘the zest of life’ or whatever you slurred afterwards.

You even dipped him like he was some kind of dance partner you decided to claim for yourself for at least ten minutes. Then stumbling off into the night to your dorm like you didn't just decide to one up him in a bet that technically never existed in the first place. Like you didn’t just decide to fuck around and make sure he is the one finding out.

When Gaz found out? “Man, she really turned the tables against yourself huh?” he snickered, knowing Soap isn't the type to take that lying down. Not without knowing what he was getting into first.

“Knocked the wind out of me and had the gall to scamper away like a mouse or a chinchilla?” Soap continues to be baffled by you and your wildly, chaotic whims. Whatever they have in you. You passionately did with fervour and compassionate love.

How could someone be so enamoured with the end? Easily. When you have grown to enjoy, to love and thrive in the beginning. Where you are celebrated as you are and continue to be. Yourself.

In this name of heritage, you have every intention to claim death tightly into your hands like no other has done in your familial bloodline. The guests of your domain your centric world, you should have known them better as the shrivelled, decomposed, decayed bodies. The layers of death and decomposition finally eating away at the frail shell left behind.

“Mio stella, you are a delight to see my darling.” You chirped like a bluebell making John’s gaze snap to your direction, his eyes narrowing slightly, trying to discern if you were mocking him or if you were actually in a good mood. His confusion was written clearly across his face, and you couldn’t help but smirk.

“You are an absolute peach when confusion is written onto your visage so clearly.” you stated. “Most beautiful state I have seen you in all week.”

John ‘Soap’ MacTavish, the star football player with a Scottish accent that could melt the coldest of hearts, stared at you quizzically. You could see the wheels turning in his head as he tried to figure out if your sudden sweetness was genuine or if there was a hidden barb underneath. You had to admit, the thrill of keeping him on his toes was quite entertaining.

“The more confused you get the cuter you have become. I must leave before I melt beneath your confusion completely.” you cooed playfully as you walked to go to the diner to indulge in some junk food alone.

Before you could step too far away from him, he pulled you back to him by your wrist and he said, “What's gotten into you, love?”

“Other than my assignment is finished early? I have decided to treat myself with some sickeningly sweet food.” You answered buzzing with so much excitement you were physically shaking, at least a smidgen. “I also found out to my sweet tooth’s utmost delight that there is a diner that is normally open during the night.”

“You are more than welcome to come with me if your little buddies don’t have anything planned for you.” You added in. “Unless you’re worried your buddies will get jealous then I’m afraid you must stay behind. Can’t have your buddies missing your presence.”

You were certain he would relent and scurry back to his group of lads. Who you wouldn’t be surprised if they all sucked each other off for the sake of it. Only to deny that it was just ‘bros helping bros out’ or whatever other excuse they might come up with.

You were going to get your hoof heels to see if you could get someone’s number if you had the sudden urge to have a drink at a bar or pub in the same area.

John remembers how you used tongue, a French kiss so deep his head swan, his mind froze, and his body felt like it was burning. He swore his soul left his body for only a moment. A moment which lasted for what it felt like an eternity. He was dared to kiss you, but it felt more like you were kissing him and he was there for the experience of a lifetime. Rattling him to his core.

You didn't taste like death at all, you tasted of black vodka, ginger, mint and rum. The sickeningly sweet part of the cocktail a mix of gummy sharks and a hint of the sea. The smell of your hair was faintly like salt and sand. A smell that was strangely calming and terrifying all at once. The ocean's siren calling him closer to the shore, yet the salt reminded him of the sting of the sea spray on his skin during storms.

You are both oddly fascinating and eerily unknown. Layers of you he assumed never existed are now exposed to his purview. His eyes now see what he disregarded in past encounters with you. How you insist on calling him things like: ‘Mio Stella’, my star, ‘Mio Sole’, my sunshine, ‘Mio Caro’, my dear, ‘Mio Tutto’, my everything, ‘Mio Principe’, my prince, ‘Mio Amore’, my love, ‘Luce delle stelle’, starlight, and ‘Mio vita’, my life.

How come he never remembers you saying them to him? How come he never remembers how they sound until this moment?

[fictionismyreality3]

Love all of your 🧼 stories!! Wish i can read more hehe

From the Back 18+

Warnings: romance and everything that comes with it, smut *debby ryan ear tuck*

Notes: iM tHe AsS MaN thAtS mY cHArAcTEr 🦅

Soap said he had an obsession with doggy, but really he was just head over heels in love with your ass.

Soap was an opportunistic man with a thing for doggy. It was kind of a secret obsession, even though there was nothing secret about it with the way he was always slapping your ass.

Bending over a counter to scroll on your phone was a dangerous choice. It wasn’t his fault that you made it so tempting, walking around in those pretty little sleep shorts that always seemed to ride up with every step you took. It gave him the perfect chance to get a good look at the outline of your cunnie, and how was he supposed to resist cupping a palmful of your ass cheek every time he walked by?

If there was a flat surface, Johnny was planting a hand on your back and forcing your face down so he could pull your panties aside and eat it from behind— love feeling these feckin’ cheeks, hen— suffocating himself in your softness.

One of his favourite things to do was to get you when you were reading, forcing you to focus on your book while he pounded into you, each thrust sending you pitching forward a few centimetres, knocking whimpers out of your throat. It was times like that when he got his phone out, unlocking it with shaky hands to film the absolute beauty underneath him.

His eyes always got stuck on the way the pretty fuckin’ fat rippled when his hips kissed your skin. The movement of it was almost hypnotic to him, and there were many times when you looked over his shoulder, wondering why he’d gone quiet, only to find him staring at your soft flesh with blown out pupils and a little drool at the corner of his mouth.

[elysianightsss]

Then the GIANT werewolf runs off to tell his three GIANT werewolf buddies that there’s a delicious little snack waiting for them…

camper who ignores all the “danger! werewolf area!” signs and sets up their tent and then sees glinting eyes in the trees. when their eyes adjust, they can just make out the massive werewolf standing stock-still and watching them.

they wave and its tail wags a bit

[shotmrmiller]

god going on a date with johnny whom you matched on tinder and he's the type of guy you avoid like the plague; jaw-dropping good looks, cheeky ㅤㅤsmiles, hits the gym more in a week than you've done all year and worst of all, could charm the pants off a snake.

so it's truly no wonder that you end up letting him bury his face between your thighs and lap at your glistening sex until your moans almost turn into screams and you haven't even left the bar's driveway, then left to watch johnny wipe the condensation off the windshield with a spare shirt so he can drive you home all the while his chin drips with your slick.

he fucks you against the front door once inside, legs hooked over his arms, then again over your couch, hand curled around your throat, and again, in front of your full length mirror while he tells you how pretty you look taking all of him, to look at how pretty you look, his crystalline eyes latching onto yours through the reflection, pretty as a peach.

then he leaves you with his spend sticking your thighs together, a languid kiss that tastes of you, and with his personal number on a scrap piece of paper.

and that's the last you hear of him. he'd said that he's quite a busy man, military and whatnot, and all in all, while you'd raked your nails down his back on the first date, it had been a date. you require more than good sex to get into a committed relationship.

a swipe of your thumb brings up tinder again, and you match with another bloke not your type. big, broad man, biceps the size of your thighs with a deadpan stare that sees right through false bravado. but he's doesn't seem to care in the slightest that he makes you nervous, doesn't care that you stutter out responses to his rather abnormal questions.

simon takes you home and sits eerily silent with his hands dwarfing the steering wheel as you chew on your lip before tentatively inviting him in for a nightcap, and you must be the luckiest person on the planet because he's just as devoted to your pleasure as your last partner.

he brings you peak after peak with his tongue, his fingers, swirls your pearl with the tip of his misaligned nose. then he lets you be on top first, concentration knitting your brows togethee as you try to fit all of him in and pride warms your cheeks when you can hear his teeth audibly grind as his fingers bite into the soft of your waist once you take him to the root, thighs flush against his hips.

you come undone more times than you can count, the neighbors more than likely knowing his name by the time he walks out the front door (after checking the locks on your windows) and that's that.

until it isn't because a text from johnny awakens your phone screen, an invite to a restaurant downtown next saturday, one you've only ever fancied of eating at and well-

a date is a date, isn't it?

you tell him to pick you up at seven and he tells you to wear something you wouldn't mind letting him keep underneath, preferably something in red. (must've seen that particular number while you looked for some sleeping shorts before he left that night.)

hopefully you won't feel too bad breaking things off with whoever doesn't ask you to be theirs first.

(simon and johnny fuck each other to the thought of you back at base, simon's fist viciously tight around johnny's cock as he's got him drooling into the flattened pillow, almost like she's fucking you too, eh, johnny?)

[deunmiu-dessie-sideblog]

lmao thinking about how the tf141 men know you're serious by the way you say their given names. like they just turn docile immediately, no matter what they're doing or their positions.

“kyle, johnny, zip it.” swiveling in your chair, you turn your gaze towards them and glare, lips set into a thin line. the two men who sit next to each other stop their quiet bickering and nod softly, focusing on laswell once more.

ghost usually avoids doing med checkups when the time of year rolls around and it just ends up making the medical professional's jobs harder than it needs to be (they usually come to you in order to get him to do it.) “simon, i’m not in the mood. now.” he sulks and broods (swears he doesn't.) but nonetheless does the med check up, that you sit in on so he doesn't run.

price isn't exempt from it either, despite being captain. during a mission including farah and her people, the two had been going back and forth on the trek to the meet-up point. annoyed you had stopped price with a hand to his chest and met his eyes. “john, leave it alone. we don't have time for this.” he’d kept eye contact for a bit but had nodded, clapping you on the shoulder. “heard, seargent.”

ppl call you the 141 whisperer ���� lolll