#while John and Simon touch each other at the sight

[baduzzxy]

dogs dogs dogs they are ALLLLLL dogs and i drool for it 🤤🤤🤤🤤🤤

The day begins like any other.

You wake up to the soft sound of the morning breeze rustling the curtains, sunlight spilling into the room in gentle golden streams. John is already gone, leaving only the faintest trace of warmth in the bed beside you. It’s no surprise- he’s a man of duty, all of them are, always rising early to tend to matters of the estate. But as you stretch and let out a soft sigh, you have no idea the storm you’re about to stir in his household.

You dress yourself today, in one of the lighter gowns Kyle had set out for you the night before. It’s soft and flowing, another gift from Simon, a delicate ivory fabric that catches the light and makes you glow as if spun from sunlight itself. You think nothing of it- it’s a comfortable gown, one that’s perfect for the warm weather of today. You fix your hair, a few strands left free to frame your face. It’s a simple look, practical even.

But it is enough to absolutely ruin them.

John is the first to catch sight of you.

You find him in his study, poring over letters and documents, glasses perched low on his nose. The moment he looks up, his quill halts mid-stroke, ink dripping onto the parchment below.

You don’t notice the way his breath hitches. You don’t see the way his eyes darken as they sweep over you, lingering far longer than they should on the soft curve of your throat, the swell of your breasts just barely visible through the gauzy material of your dress, the delicate shape of your collarbone begging to be kissed.

“… My Duchess,” he greets, voice low and strained.

You smile, unaware of how the simple gesture strikes him like a bolt of lightning straight through his chest. “Good morning, John. I didn’t mean to disturb you- I was just going to the gardens.”

His jaw tightens. God, you’re beautiful. Ethereal. Untouchable, almost, and yet here you are- his wife. His to hold, his to cherish, his to adore. The mere thought of it makes his heart pound painfully in his chest.

You’re so sweetly oblivious, so utterly trusting. You lean over his desk, pointing at one of the letters as you ask about estate matters, and all he can focus on is the faint scent of roses lingering on your skin and the warmth of your breath against his cheek. He aches to pull you into his lap, to ruin that pretty dress and leave you breathless and marked, but-

“My Duchess,” he rasps again, standing abruptly. You blink up at him, startled. “Don’t linger in the sun too long. I shall see you later.” It’s the only warning he can give himself before he brushes past you and leaves the room, his restraint hanging by a thread.

Kyle finds you next, standing in the rose garden with a soft smile as you hum to yourself. You’re radiant, the sunlight catching in your hair and making you glow like some goddess of nature.

He was supposed to be bringing you tea. Instead, he stands there frozen, tray in hand, just watching.

You turn and catch sight of him, greeting him with that bright, lovely smile that never fails to make his heart lurch. “Kyle!”

He clears his throat quickly, straightening his shoulders and bringing the tray over, though he’s painfully aware of the warmth creeping up his neck.

“My lady,” he murmurs, setting the tea down on the garden table and pouring for you. His hands are steady, but his mind isn’t.

He barely hears you as you speak about the roses, about the arrangements for the next gathering. His thoughts are clouded by the way you keep brushing your hair behind your ear, the gentle tilt of your head as you sip your tea, the way your lips press together so sweetly.

You lean forward suddenly, reaching to brush a leaf off his shoulder, and Kyle stiffens. You don’t notice.

“You’re always taking such good care of me, Kyle,” you say softly, smiling up at him. “Thank you.”

He doesn’t trust himself to speak. He only nods stiffly, stepping back quickly before he does something utterly improper.

Johnny is the worst of them.

You come into the kitchen around noon, asking him for a small snack to hold you over until dinner since you had a small lunch. He’s elbow-deep in flour and dough, sleeves rolled up and shirt slightly damp with sweat, but the second he sees you standing in the doorway, his brain completely short-circuits.

“Johnny?” you call again softly, stepping in.

He drops the spoon that’d been near, cursing as he scrambles to pick it up and then cursing again because his hands are now dirty. Yet- his eyes keep flicking up to you- how you look so soft and delicate in the kitchen’s golden light, how the dress hugs your figure and makes it so damn hard for him to focus.

You laugh at the sight of him like this, and the sound is like honey poured straight into his veins.

“Sorry, m’lady.” he says, voice rough, but you’re already stepping closer.

“It’s alright.” You reach past him to grab a plate, and he just about groans aloud at the way you brush against him, soft and warm and plush and utterly unaware of the effect you have on him.

“Johnny?” You look up at him, eyes so wide and trusting.

“Yeah?” He barely recognizes his own voice.

“You’re staring.”

He chokes, turning back to wash his hands as quickly as possible. “Sorry, m’lady. I’ll- uh- I’ll make something quick for you, promise.”

You only smile, sitting down at the counter and watching him work. He feels your gaze like a brand, burning into his skin, and he has never been so grateful for the long apron covering the very obvious evidence of his distraction.

And then there’s Simon.

You don’t even realize he’s there, watching you from the shadowed corner of the room as you flip through the books in the library. You hum softly to yourself, trailing your fingers over the spines, your dress shifting with every movement.

Simon feels like a beast barely kept on a leash. He’s gripping the edge of the shelf so tightly his knuckles have gone white, jaw clenched so hard it aches.

He wants you. Needs you.

You tilt your head to read a title, exposing the curve of your neck, and his breath catches. He imagines what it would feel like to press his lips there, to hear you gasp as he holds you close-

And then you turn and spot him.

“Simon!” You smile, moving toward him without hesitation, and he’s utterly undone.

“Hello, darling.” he murmurs, low and strained. Knows that he if lifts his hand to cup your cheek, his fingers would be trembling.

“I was just looking for something to read.” You say, so casually, so obliviously, as if you aren’t standing there looking like every single one of his fantasies come to life.

Simon only nods, forcing himself to step back before he does something he can’t take back.

By the time evening falls, the tension in the house is unbearable.

John’s jaw ticks as he watches you lean over the table, in a private dining room just for them, laughing at something Johnny said. Kyle’s eyes darken when he sees how your fingers brush against Simon’s as you pass him a dish. Johnny keeps flexing his hands as if he’s trying to resist the urge to grab you and pull you into his lap.

They’re all desperate, wound tight, and utterly at their limit.

And you- blissfully unaware- just keep smiling sweetly at them, unknowingly fanning the flames.

[nighttimealone]

Cw: Nsfw (141 x fem!reader, live together)

Beside you, Kyle is the first to wake up in the morning. He’ll pad towards the kitchen, enjoying the sight of you making your morning drink silently, before moving to stand right behind you, arms wrapped around your waist as he grinds he bulge lazily against your ass. He just wants to feel your warmth, how nice your soft flesh press against his cock.

“Just want to feel you, baby. It’s so cold out here.” He’ll unabashedly slip his hands under your pajamas shirt, kneading your breasts and tugging at those sensitive buds, forcing you to stop brewing your drink because you might spill the liquid.

Kyle just want to get an orgasm from you, a gift for you two morning birds, he claims before succumbing to sleepiness and tuck himself back under the duvet, fully content with being the first man making you come undone everyday, and sleeps in 5 more minutes.

You know Johnny will drag you into the shower with him whenever he comes back from his morning jog. You chide him before he engulfs you in his embrace, lightheartedly calling him a stinky man and shush him to go shower first.

So his solution is hug you despite your protest, then pull you inside the bathroom together, stripping off your pajamas and his sports wear impatiently before jumping into the shower with you.

“We’re both stinky now, jus’ thought ye might need a shower too.” Johnny grins when you glare at him, shamelessly pretends he’s just ‘looking out for ye’ while his hands traveling across your body, groping and preparing you for his cock with his hard dick prodding at the small of your back. He’ll never hurt you, but as soon as you’re wet enough for his girthy shaft, he’ll pick you up, stretching you deeply and completely with the help of your weight, groans and growls at how good you are, how your precious pussy takes him so good, ignoring Ghost’s noise complaint coming from the other side of the bathroom door as he fucks you fast and feral, making you unable to care about suppressing your moans and cling onto him, let him keep scooping you in his arms and thrust into you till he empty his balls in your good little cunt.

Finally getting Kyle and Johnny pass out from the alcohol, John and Simon manhandle them back to the bedroom before entering the living room again. 00:13, a glance at the clock telling you it’s late in the night, but it’s just the start for the three of you. Retrieving a bottle of fine rum, John seats you between him and Simon, thighs touching with theirs as you all sip on the wine and chat quietly. “The boys will chug the rum like it’s some cheap beer, they can settle with those just fine.” John chuckles lowly and comments on the awful taste and drinking habit of Kyle and Johnny.

“Those bonkers will stick to your side the whole day and complain if they find out, old man.” Simon chimes in after huffing out a laugh at John’s words.

You snicker along with them, feeling fully content and relaxed with squished between two of your lovers, joking about the other two men you loved while the rum flows smoothly down your throat. Soon your composure slips after few nips of the wine, whining cute and groggily as Simon ravish in the kiss with you, tongues dance and tangle with each other in a slow pace, let him drink down all your syrupy moans and coos in rare gentleness, so John can slickens up your pussy with his lips and your juices, making sure you can accommodate their fat cocks later, and you can’t expect or plead him to sink his cock into you already until him and Simon can see your juices dripping down your soaked folds, praying them to fill you up.

The two men will treat you so well, worshipping their dearest girl in the world. Simon’s fingers and lips are always on you when John squeeze his fat tip into your entrance, gliding in and out slowly and heavily, so all those spongy spots of yours that can make you chant his name like a mantra aren’t missed out. When he put a load in you with a husky groan, passing you onto Simon’s lap and let you lean back on his chest, he’ll plant tiny kisses on your shoulder, murmur about how they love you—will protect you and keep you safe and sound—against your skin. Simon allows him to indulge in the heat and tightness of your pussy, grunting and praising you as he fuck John’s cum back inside you, making sure you take each drops of John’s seeds, like the reliable lieutenant he always is for his captain. The base of his length has formed a creamy froth the time he nips down slightly on your shoulder to muffle his moan, drenching your messy cunt with every bit of his release. “Atta girl.” His croon is added with John’s soothing voice “Yeah, been so good for us, princess.”

They both pick up the glass once again to finish the remaining rum, with you already drifting between your slumber and consciousness, listening to their small chatters as your own lullaby. You don’t know when they’ll finish drinking, or if one of them will nestle their cock inside your pussy again, just to feel your walls clenching down subconsciously, but you let yourself slip into a dream, because they’ll take good care of you, always do and always will.

[oceantornadoo]

pockets of possessiveness (john price x lieutenant f!reader)

you knocked on his door with your pillow in hand, feet freezing on bare tile. after a second, you heard a gruff “come in”, and pushed open the door to the sight of your captain smoking a cigar with paperwork spread around him. he looked up at you syrup-slow, eyes dragging up and down your body.

“whose clothes are those?” you peeked down at the oversized tee and boxers you wore. “mine.” he grunted. “y’ make it a habit buyin’ shit that doesn’t fit.” you rolled your eyes, stomping over to the couch you came for. “yes, actually. i like to buy oversized shirts and men’s boxers are extremely comfortable and cheap.” his hat was off, which meant you could see the slight rise of his eyebrows, disbelief in his vision. “‘s long as they aren’t johnny’s.” you took a while to answer that, instead dropping your pillow on couch and making yourself comfy, taking out the blanket he tucked away in a box underneath. “‘m not dignifying that with a response.” a small smile tugged at his lips, fond affection spreading slowly. he turned his desk lamp away from you so the harsh glare was no longer in your eyes. “g’night, sweetheart.” you closed your eyes. “night, cap.”

it was way too early in the morning for someone to be bothering you on your day off. you felt a presence standing over you and groaned, hand reaching out to push him away. “go back to sleep, sweetheart. was jus’ sayin’ bye.” your hand landed on his bicep, tugging him down to crouch before you. blearily, you opened one eye, watching the movement of your hand travel to his neck, wrapping around the strands with his hair. he understood you immediately, moving closer til your foreheads touched. you sighed on contact, his smell of cigars and pine seeping into your skin. “got to go, baby. i’ll lock the door so y’ can sleep ‘s long as you want.” you whined a little, then acquiesced with a nod. “‘m not sleepin’ with johnny.” he let out a big sigh. “i know.” you were both silent for a bit, breathing in each other’s presence. for a second, you could imagine it was under different circumstances. with no ranks between you and only lazy sundays like this. instead, you dropped your hand and he rose up, pinching your hip in goodbye.

“y’r not goin’. it’s a suicide mission.” you huffed at his attitude, crossing your arms over your chest so he couldn’t see your hands trembling. “but it’s made for my skills, cap. why else would they assign it to the team?” you looked to the rest of your task force around the room, making eye contact with them individually. “anyone?” gaz tried to speak and you shut him up with a look, already knowing he was going to take his captain’s side. johnny was oddly silent, eyes tracing patterns on the floor. “captain’s right. ‘s yer death if y’ go.” ghost’s voice was low and gravelly in the silence of the room. that was it - overruled by your fellow lieutenant. with him on your captain’s side, you had no shot. “fine. i’ll just not do my job.” you avoided john’s gaze, instead staring a hole into the side of simon’s face. the idiot turned and faced you, cocking his head in silent argument.

i hate you

no you don’t

you’re wrong

you know i’m right

whatever. you’re still on my shit list.

the meeting ended and you beelined for the door. despite your fervent strides, john caught up with you, tugging you into the nearest room (your quarters), before you could run away. you unlocked the door without acknowledging him, letting him follow you into your sacred space and locking the door after him. “‘s for your safety, sweetheart.” you whipped around, pushing him into the door with a finger on his chest. “no, john, it’s for you. you not trusting me, not trusting my skills.” he grabbed your finger with his hand, dwarfing it in his rough warmth. “‘s not that i don’t trust you. i don’t want- i can’t see you killed.” somehow in the darkness of the room, you could see his eyes pleading, an unusual vulnerability for your captain.

“you can’t be this possessive and still not fuck me, captain.” you mocked him with his rank, pointing out the one big problem between you. “y’ know it’s more than fuckin’, sweetheart. woulda done it a while ago ‘f it was jus’ that.” oh. oh. you had guessed, slightly, but to hear him say it was…new. “next time, can you tell me that before going all caveman in front of the team?” his grip on your finger had loosened, his hand spreading out your own so he could link the two together. your palms were over his heart and you could feel its heavy beating calm slowly. “y’ didn’t know?” you shook your head, eyes focusing on the sight of your hands intertwined. your left hand to be specific, his fingers rubbing your ring finger absentmindedly. “don’t want t’ see you hurt because i care for you. and i don’t mind using my position t’ ensure it.” he leaned in, and for a heart stopping moment you thought he would kiss you. instead, he kissed your forehead, lips resting for a second. “we okay?” you nodded against him, feeling the scratch of his beard. “yeah, john, we’re okay.”

john was two seconds away from tugging you off the dance floor, ripping off the scrap of fabric you wore, and taking you in front of the entire club. you had begged the team to go clubbing after the mission, and with gaz and johnny on your side, your prayers were answered. you’d found the perfect thing to wear in a local shop - a scrap of a dress in your favorite color that showed off almost all of your skin. of course, you’d done shots with gaz and johnny, and now the three of you were on the dance floor, dancing the night away. “gonna break that glass, captain.” ghost nodded towards the tight grip price had on his whiskey, knuckles white and strained. he loosened slightly at his lieutenant’s words, gaze never leaving your figure. “fuckin’ hell.” ghost muttered, tracking the figure of his captain’s obsession. johnny had joined you from the back and gaz from the front, the three of you grinding like there was no tomorrow. johnny’s fingers gripped your waist while kyle’s brushed your shoulders, occasionally running up and down your arms. “cap-“ but he was already moving, glass empty and dropped on the table as price made his way to the dance floor.

“‘m cutting in.” your captain peeled his two sergeants off you, sending them scampering and snickering with a glare. “didn’t know you danced, john.” he didn’t, just stood unmoving with arms akimbo and possessiveness flaring in his eyes. “come on.” you grabbed his arm and dragged him through the crowd, finding a dark corner for the two of you, away from the team. “took you long enough to come get me.” you giggled. he raised an eyebrow, resting his hands on your waist as you swayed to the beat of the music. “y’ sayin’ that was all for me?” you nodded, biting your lip in anticipation. instead of replying, he flipped you around, tugging you into him until there was no space between you. you started grinding, not the false imitation of what you were doing with johnny and kyle, letting the beat move your hips. “a worse man might take advantage of you, darlin’. so pretty an’ willing f’ me.” he was right next to your ear, beard scraping your soft skin.

“doesn’t make you worse, john. it makes you human.” huh. he’d never thought of it that way, that he was just a man instead of a captain. he contemplated it, that gray area, as you moved one of his hands from your waist to your lower stomach, pressing it above your core. “‘s not taking advantage, john. i’m not drunk, just tipsy.” he pressed harder against you, drawing out a moan in the darkness as you felt that familiar coil of arousal. you could feel the outline of his cock through his jeans, the thin material of your dress barely a barrier. “don’t want our first time to be in a filthy club bathroom, baby. when i fuck you, i’m goin’ to take my time.” he grinded his palm into you, noting the hitch in your breath as he found your cunt, hidden behind two layers of fabric. it was building up, your nipples hardening and scraping against your dress. he was rock hard now, hips loose and all yours. you couldn’t quell that one voice in the back of your mind, though. “will it- will it just be once? when you fuck me?” he shook his head, spinning you around until your back was to a wall, your captain pinning your hands up and looking down at you with a hungry gaze. his hips were still pressed into yours, cock rubbing against your cunt. “y’ gonna get it through your head. you’re mine and i’m yours.” his eyes were searching yours for confirmation that he hadn’t been grasping at straws. you nodded quickly, wrapping a leg around his waist and tugging him closer. “mine. yours. when are you gonna kiss me, john?” you whined that last part, turning on your biggest puppy dog eyes. he almost growled at it, you so helpless under him. the invisible limits he had on himself, on a relationship between a captain and lieutenant, broke easily under your heady gaze. he leaned in slowly, cupping your jaw and running his thumb over your lips. and finally, finally, he kissed you.

it was slow and soft and john, the taste of whiskey rushing through your mouth. you were in a bubble, tugging your pinned hands out of his grip so you could pull him closer. his hips slotted further into yours but his lips told a softer story, biting and licking, exploring yours. you never wanted to stop, content to lie here forever and never let him go. “y’ taste like my dreams, sweetheart.” he whispered, just for you. he tasted like your future.

[going-to-ikea-for-the-fries]

It's a Match! || 141 x reader

[ Chapter 6 ] || [ Chapter 8 ]

Pairing: Price x gn!Reader || 141 x gn!Reader Words: 1.8K~ cw: SMUT, SMUT, SMUT. oral (m!receiving). sex (protected). Unspecified age gap. John is a little selfish. Also: the boys aren't very happy. Summary: While overcoming recent heartbreak, you decide to join Tinder in search of a rebound. Your friends advise to just Swipe Right indiscriminately... What happens when 4 soldiers from the same squad match with you? a/n: tried my best to keep the smut as gender neutral as possible!

Chapter 7: Getting Laid!!

Last night, you and John stumbled in the door of your flat with your lips pressed together.

You swore that was something only happened in romcoms, when the main character and her rival/best-friend/ex/a stranger met at the bar, got drunk, and somehow stumbled in the door and did it right on the kitchen table or whatever.

Nope.

Nope. It happened.

He had his arms wrapped around your torso, one snugly around your hip/lower waist, the other running up over your spine, with his hand sinking into your hair.

He tossed his foot back, knocking the door closed with a donkey kick as your hands struggled to untuck his stupid maroon button-up.

Instead of fumbling with the buttons, he ripped it off himself, a few of the buttons popping off and being sent flying around the room. He shrugged it off himself before guiding you over the living room sofa.

The flat was a mess, you had tried to tell him, because you weren’t expecting to bring him (or anyone, ever) back here. But that wasn’t a concern at that moment.

John fell on top of you on the couch, his hands already ripping your shirt off and throwing it somewhere it wouldn’t get in the way (you’d come to find it behind your flatscreen tv).

His fingers kneaded and caressed your torso, squeezing at your waist as his mouth slide away from yours, over your jaw, and down to your neck, biting down onto it and sucking at the skin like it was his to mark.

Your hands found the back of his white crewneck and you pulled it off, momentarily getting him tangled in it, before you tossed it on the floor. 

You barely had a moment to feast your eyes on the sight of his bare torso before he was slipping your boots off and then dragging your jeans off your legs… Like a rabid animal, primal and hungry. 

You caught glimpses of his figure as he raised your leg and peppered kisses from your ankle, wet tongue jotting out to lick up your thigh toward your underwear.

He’s strong but soft, the owner of large pecks and a warm belly, both covered in thick, dark, coarse hair, that disappear in a happy trail under his jeans.

You pull his face toward yours, locking your lips into a deep kiss again, your tongues finding each other as he holds himself up over you. Pulling away from the kiss, you looked at him. “Flip over…” You whispered.

He didn’t need to be told twice, grabbing you around the waist again and hurling you up as he shifted to sit down on the couch, thighs spread to accommodate the growing bulge in his jeans.

You knelt between his legs, nimble fingers undoing his belt and immediately tugging the dark fabric away from his thick thighs. He groaned in relief as he watched you struggle with his boots for a moment before you succeeded in getting it all off him.

His hand palmed at his hardened cock, eyelids droopy as your hands ran up his legs, feeling the hair in them, and sometimes catching the little bumps and scars of past injuries, some of them discreet, some of them obvious and particularly gnarly. Some of them could rival some of his Simon’s.

You tugged down his boxers briefs, allowing his cock to spring free. It’s uncut, long and decently thick, and his hair is neatly trimmed. The head peeks out just a bit, showing how red and angry it is, the whole length throbbing, needy for your touch.

Your eyes locked onto his, spotting that it wasn’t just his cock that was needy. He looked at you like a starved man about to have a meal. Barely restrained, his jaw clenched, fists tightened shut, the muscles on his thighs taut with anticipation.

You ran your tongue over your palm before wrapping it around his cock, hearing him hiss and throw his head back as you started stroking it. Your other hand slowly, carefully, pulled back the hood of his cock before you wrapped your lips and tongue around it, gingerly sliding it further into your mouth.

You could’ve sworn John was going to have an aneurysm. “Fuckin’ hell… That’s it…” He grunted and huffed consecutively as he tensed up a bit, bucking his hips upward to meet your mouth.

“F-Fuck… That’s it…” He grumbled under his breath as he looked down at you. John had been with plenty of people, but something about the way you looked on your knees with his cock steadily slipping down your throat, got him in a way no one else did.

“Jesus… Fuckin’... Christ…” He dipped his head back as your tongue drew circles around him before you swallowed him deeper, breathing steadily through your nose so as to not choke.

“God… Been… B-Been a while since I got… Christ-” He grunted again, one hand shooting up to grip the back of your neck as he slowly rocked his cock into your mouth, beads of precum drooling over your tongue.

“C’mere.” He demanded as he pulled you back from his cock and up to your feet. He grabbed hold of his jeans from the floor, in search of his wallet and pulled out a whole sheet of condoms which was folded neatly inside, He stuck them between his lips before he stood.

Grabbing hold of you, he walked you across your flat, making use of the sitting room lights to navigate the hall into the bedroom, and dropped you onto your bed. He tossed the condoms aside and his lips crashed into yours, lips parted so that your tongues found each other.

His hands grabbed hold of your underwear and tugged it off, sending it flying across the room while he grabbed hold of the condoms and ripped off one, rough fingers search struggling to open the foil, before he finally succeeded and slipped it on.

“You good?” He checked on you, eyes locked on yours as he slotted himself between your legs, kneeling in front of you and adjusting you to fit him. One leg wrapped around his waist, the other over the bend of his elbow to keep you spread open for him.

“Yeah.” You replied, immediately feeling him rub the leaking head of his cock against your entrance, allowing the lube of the condom to lubricate you just a bit.

It had been ages since you had last gotten laid, a miserable consequence of your ex-boyfriend, Ethan, and one of the main reasons you had broken up. Sex with him, much like your relationship, was dead and unfulfilling.

You felt John push his way inside, slotting himself in the warmth and snugness of your body as you squealed, your head falling back onto the bed. He grunted some incoherent praise, or what you assume was praise, his fingers digging into the extra fat on your legs to keep him steady enough.

He leaned over you, one closed fist on either side of your head, curling you onto yourself and allowing him easier access to thrust into you. Slow, torturously slowly, his cock stretching you and forcing you to accomodate him.

“Fuckin’ hell… So fuckin’ good…” He groaned, eyes closing and mouth falling open as he threw his hips down against yours. It was slow and considerate, but the way he huffed and grunted told you it was already too much for him.

But John was a man of focus. He uncurled his fists in order to grip your bed covers and squeeze them tight as his hips bounced off yours, his weeping girth always burying itself to the hilt before he pulled back again, making sure to bottom out every time.

You whimpered and moaned, eyes screwed closed and a shiver running down your spine every time the bouncy cock plunged into you, the upward tilt of it making sure to drag dangerously slowly across the one spot in your body that caused your mind to go blank, stars prickling in the corners of your eyes.

“F-Fuck… John…” You sighed as he kept the torturously slow pace, somehow driving you crazy just as much as he would while pounding you into oblivion.

“Yeah… that’s it. Moan my name, love.” He ordered as he leaned closer.

“J-John…” You cried out softly as his hips stuttered lightly, causing him to bury himself deep twice in a row.

“I know, darling. I know.” He grumbled. “You haven’t gotten properly shagged in a while, have you?” He taunted a bit. “Haven’t either, sweet thing…” He added.

His hands grabbed your jaw on either side, his thumbs hooked onto your cheeks, the remaining fingers slipping under and around your ears, nails digging lightly into your scalp.

“I’ll make sure to make it last as long as possible, hm?” He added as he kissed at your lips, sucking your bottom lip between his lightly.

-

John was in a much better mood when he sat down for breakfast at the mess hall with Ghost, Gaz and Soap. He actually greeted them with a ‘Good morning’, his tray was piled high with food and his hair was wet from a recent shower.

The other three were looking at him with raised brows and intrigued glances, even if Ghost was trying to be discreet about them. They could read between the lines to know he had gotten lucky with you the night before, so they didn’t need to ask questions they knew the answers to.

Instead, they exchanged glances and kept eating their breakfasts… All except for Simon, who was simply drinkin a cup of breakfast tea.

“I don’t think it’s fair.” Soap ended up saying as Price was halfway through shoveling a hash brown into his mouth.

“What isn’t, Soap?” Price asked, eyes narrowed in confusion, and brows scrunched.

“We all matched ‘em on Tinder and didn’t get more than a ‘I’ll think about meetin’ up with you’.” The younger sergeant explained halfway through chewing his bite of sausage. “You meet with ‘em, get a shag… And we did all the work for it.” He added. “But when it comes to us ourselves, they don’t want us.” He complained.

“What are we gonna do?” Gaz complained. “Maybe they just like older men…” He said with a shrug. “Sucks but there’s other people out there.” He adds while drinking his orange juice.

“Are you seriously going to call dibs on the fact you saw ‘em before Price?” Ghost said in surprise.

“I’m just saying!” Soap grunted and shoveled some more scrambled eggs into his mouth.

“Learn to take rejection with class, MacTavish. It’s going to happen to you more and more often as you get older.” Ghost quipped.

“Awa' an' bile yer heid!” Soap scoffed and flipped the middle finger at Ghost.

Meanwhile, the Captain was giving them all a look, while staying silent, seeming amused by their antics and a little by their jealousy. He could tell that despite the fact Gaz and Ghost had disagreed with Soap, their eyebrows were also furrowed in contemplation.

So, he simply turned off to the side and drank from his own tea with a smug smirk on his lips.

taglist: @daisychainsinknots , @bunnysdaydreams , @iite-cool , @lahniu , @pagesfalling , @tapioca-milktea1978 , @live-love-be-unique , @thelaisydazy , @littleghosthunter , @bossva , @emotion-no-hot-yes-hotel-trivago , @chamomiletealeaf , @ghosts-hoe , @kariiiel , @ltbarnes , @irregulardongyoung , @spacelia , @hayleybarnesx , @infpt-zylith , @xxshadowbabexx , @frescoisnotinthemilitary , @leeeenistop , @lucienbarkbark , @zombie-freak , @wittleespur , @agoodmoviekiss , @l0lziez , @whos-fran , @greatstormcat , @openup-yourmind , @neoarchipelago

[konigsblog]

pov: ur tied up under the table in the rec room, ring gag forcing your mouth open as you’re forced to suck some serious cock for whoever sits in the chair aka simon riley while your drooling cunt remains untouched

cw: afab!f!reader

even better if you're blindfolded and the men are increasingly rougher each time...

perhaps, you'll start off with gaz, who'll ignore the sounds of your mumbled cries, keeping your head down against his base while rocking his hips against your face, driving himself further and deeper down your unused throat. seeing your mouth so wide open is heavenly, and leaves his stiff length leaking like a faucet, laughing as he taunts you.

that sweet, lazy and relaxed voice leaves you with a prominent smile on your face, quickly wiped off by johnny who slaps your cheeks and guides your head to his weeping shaft. he's tougher on you; causing you to gag and sniffle, heaving through breaths with your tears soaken by the blindfold. seeing you with the ring gag leaves his boner throbbing and painful, the sight of you with your mouth forced open, lips swollen and glossy, and your cheeks wet...

price isn't even gentler, and you're dreading the thickness of his hard, meaty cock in your mouth. you know what john's like; he'll pinch your nose and restrict your breathing to ‘test your stamina and endurance’, leaving you dizzy and light-headed, unable to focus or mutter a coherent word. the sound of simon's voice is the distance taunting you for crying so much causes your pussy to squeeze around nothing, words stifled and mumbled, with cum dripping off your tongue.

simon goes last, mainly because he wants to take his sweet time using that throat. when he slides inside, it's as if he stole the wind from your lungs, already causing you to puff out your nose as he sinks even further down your throat. silenced cries are addictive to simon, who will cock his head to the side in a teasing manner, adoring the sight of you like this; obedient, and taking whatever you're given.

you choke and gurgle around simon, becoming a pathetic and messy girl as he throat fucks you and grinds even further down your throat. the lengthiness of his musky dick causes you to gag repeatedly, the sloppy noises of your drool and spit leaving simon chuckling hoarsely, shaking his head at the sight of you; weeping. your cunt drools all over the cold floor leaving a sticky patch on the ground, your wet heat sticky and your thighs caked in arousal. you gasp as he slaps your cheek painfully and brutally, with his other hand gripping your throat firmly to restrict your breathing and to hold your head in place between his large, strong thighs.

“c’mon, girly... chokin’ on my cock, such a filthy baby.” those words leave your clit and folds swollen with touch, panting and heaving as he fucks himself down your throat, balls slapping and smacking against your chin ‘til your face is covered in drool and layers of cum, releasing his hot release down your throat, running down your mouth as you whine out in pain, pussy untouched and ignored, your orgasm causing your body to jerk and twist.

looking so used on your knees in front of him.

[xyziiix]

𝘛𝘏𝘙𝘌𝘌 𝘐𝘚 𝘈 𝘊𝘙𝘖𝘞𝘋 ~ 𝘑.𝘗 & 𝘚.𝘙

PAIRINGS: Captain John Price X Female!Reader X Lieutenant Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley

WARNINGS: SMUT - this is pure porn u guys - MMF threesome, unprotected P in V (wrap it please for the love of god) spanking, ROUGH GHOST, Price being an arsehole, being fucked over a desk, Eiffel Tower 😏, oral (m!receiving), creampie, kinda degrading.

A/N: I heard your pleas you little horndogs. You ask and you shall receive. (Sorry it’s a lil rushed and — surprise surprise, not proof read yet)

[could be read as a part 2 to ARDOUR, could also be read by itself)

It was Price that had noticed it first.

Of course he had. He was regardful. Observant.

He noticed it first a few days after you’d returned to base from Urizakstan. The way the Lieutenant’s eyes would linger on you when you were talking or just suddenly appeared — breathing life into the room, as you usually did. And it wasn’t just in a way one would be respectably paying attention to someone whilst they were speaking or doing something to gather their attention — No. it was the way his eyes — ones that always seemed devoid of emotion — would follow your body when you moved around, would watch you like a predator stalking it’s prey. Price recognised the look in his eyes.

Because that’s how he also looked at you.

While the situation you and Price were in was… delicate — and would definitely rouse misplaced reactions by the people in your place of work — he thought the idea of another man looking at you the way Ghost did would’ve angered him. Made him jealous. Irrational.

But for some reason it didn’t irk him as he thought it would.

And it wasn’t long after that he figured out Simon knew about you two. Perhaps the way Ghost seemed to be more observant and more silent than usual when the two of you were normally interacting with each other in front of the task force — keeping it strictly professional while you weren’t in the privacy with only each other. So that’s how Price figured he knew. Why would he be acting odd — even more than usual — about the two of you simply talking in the same room as everyone? It was like he knew a secret, a dirty secret.

Turns out he did.

In that battered down, sad excuse of a safe house in the Urzikstan dessert, it turns out not everyone was asleep that night while your Captain decided to fuck you.

You two had hidden it well — he’d give you both credit for that — so it was safe to say it had genuinely surprised him when he saw the sight in front of him that night. He was careful. Quiet. Like a ghost. Sticking to the shadows and moving silently — which was very surprising considering the Lieutenant’s looming height.

He had heard the noises — your noises — and it was obvious they were trying to be muffled. At first, he’d immediately thought of danger, that’s why he had been cautious to approach instead of just bursting into the room.

He remembers the feeling of his chest tightening in realisation when he saw what he saw. Price’s back was to Ghost — laying on his side on the ground. He couldn’t get a good look at your face, but he could see the glow of perspiration from the moonlight shining through the thin glass pane window and onto the dewy skin of your bare leg draped over Price’s thigh. Even just the silver of soft skin and the sound of your singing being trapped into the Captain’s palm had Simon hard, his pants tightening in his groin area — other than that he remained completely silent, even his breathing seemed nonexistent as he just watched the two of you. He didn’t even touch himself either, just watched. Like he thought if he looked away for a moment then the image of you like this would be gone.

But now it had been burned into his memory. The sounds you made. The soft and supple flesh of your thigh. And even the way your dainty hand had grabbed onto Price’s arm when he made you come. He wondered if you’d make those noises for him — except he wouldn’t muffle them with his palm. No. He’d want you to let everything out, every scream, every cry, every wanton moan while he fucked you dumb with his cock.

Price had brought up his observation of the Lieutenant one night a few weeks later. Both of you basking in the afterglow of sex in your rooms in the barracks.

“Simon.” He started simply, and you had turned to look at him quizzically.

“What about him?”

“Think he knows.”

Somewhere between then and now, you had discussed the possibility of this. To say you were very surprised when Price was the one that suggested Simon fucking you was an understatement. It wasn’t that Price wanted to be sexual with Ghost — as sexy as that would’ve been to see — he liked the idea of watching him fuck you. He couldn’t explain why, but just something that had been brewing in the back of his mind.

You had told Price that he wouldn’t have wanted that — that he was a closed off person who was hard to read, how could John have possibly conjured up that assumption that Simon was attracted to you?

Well, your captain always liked proving you wrong.

Because here you were, bent over the expanse of John’s desk — the desk you’d already had the pleasant experience of being bent over, laid atop of, and sat underneath while you sucked his cock as he sat in the desk chair — only this time it was infact, Lieutenant Simon Riley plowing into you with his intimidatingly large cock.

His grip on your hips was borderline painful — but it hurt so good. You worried he may make the desk topple over with how hard he was thrusting into you. You’d never been this stretched open before — feeling the too much, too full feeling of his dick inside of you, the blunt head of his length kissing the plug of your cervix with each steady but strong buck of his hips.

The masked man’s gaze was set of the globes of your arse, how the flesh rippled when his hips met yours, how every time it did so he got a glimpse of your little puckered hole — fuck, he wanted to fuck you there as well. But, he didn’t want to push his luck just yet. The only noises to be heard in Price’s office was skin meeting skin, the sound of your small cries and whimpers of ecstasy. You tried to stay quiet, you really did, but it was rather pathetic — your moans eventually interjecting through the room.

That’s when Price had changed his mind about just watching you. He had been painfully hard the last 15 minutes from having watched you already come on Ghost’s cock, your eyes glassy and lips red raw from biting them as you gripped onto the table for dear life. You didn’t even register him standing in front of you until you heard the sound of metal teeth being zipped open as well as the buckle of his belt.

“Gotta keep you quiet, love.” He excused with a chuckle while sliding his cock between your lips.

You really did have to keep quiet. And though the door was locked anyone walking by would’ve heard you — being fucked by your lieutenant while your captain watched.

You tried to focus on hollowing your cheeks around John’s cock. But you were utterly cock drunk, already feeling another powerful orgasm building in the pit of you abdomen while Simon continued to fuck you. Price had obviously noticed you struggling — as the bastard seemed to notice everything, he’d smugly remind you — so he had gathered your hair, using it to lift your head up as he started to fervently fuck your throat.

If you thought you felt impossibly full then you were beyond stuffed now, your jaw slack as John fucked your face and your pussy stretched almost painfully wide around Simon’s cock.

Ghost let out a prolonged, raspy breath when he felt you squeezing his dick in a vice. And in return, one of his hands left your hips in order to collect both your wrists with his single, calloused palm, pining them to your lower back as he fucked you impossibly harder, his pace quickening a little. His other palm landing a smack to your sore asscheeks — a crack of palm meeting flesh sounding in the office.

“Look at you, eh?” Price spoke, his tone annoyingly steady despite your mouth gliding up and down his cock. “Being fucked by your superiors. What would everyone make of you?” He asked with a gruff chuckle — and obviously you couldn’t answer.

About several moments later you felt yourself tumbling into another fierce climax, all but crying around John’s cock as your abused cunt squeezed Simon pitifully — which rewarded you with another slap to your rear, the skin red raw.

“Fuckin’ hell.” Simon grunted lowly — that adding to the short list of words he’d actually spoken this whole time.

Your arse hurt, your wrists hurt, your jaw hurt — your fucking pussy hurt — but you didn’t want it to stop, ever.

John pulled his cock out of your mouth, his dick coated in a mix of saliva and precum. His hand still buried in your hair — keeping your head up. Your neck hurt as well.

“Such a good girl.” Price praised as he bent his knees a little to see your face better, a smug smile curling his lips at the tears staining your flushed cheeks. “He makin’ you feel good?” He asks, there’s an edge to his voice.

The Lieutenant — being so full of surprises tonight — pushes his hand under you. The rough pad of his thumb cruelly flicking your clit. Your body seizing forward, a sharp cry escaping your lips while Simon still held your wrists pinned behind you.

When your eyes had widened at the overstimulating sensation, John had mirror your expression — but mockingly. “You like being used like this don’t you?”

You could only moan in response — unable to form a coherent thought let alone sentence.

Price tapped your cheek, your eyes focusing back on his smug face. “Asked you a question, love.” He reminded you. Arsehole.

“Yeah-“ you managed to babble out, your words shaking in tandem with your body, John’s smile curled into a Cheshire Cat grin — his goatee lifting.

“Yeah, you do.” He repeated.

Neither men had lasted much long after that. Price had gone back to fucking your face while Simon was relentlessly pounding into you. Your third orgasm was — quite literally — breath taking, it felt like your skin was on fire, yet numb at the same time. You definitely couldn’t feel your legs. Ghost came first, burying himself all the way to the hilt before spilling hot ropes of come inside of you with a groan — so much that it leaked out of you in a dribble of pearly white, you had let out a pathetic whine when he pulled out — the empty feeling had you quivering around nothing.

Price came a few moments later, filling your mouth with his salty spend before you swallowed it all. It tickled your raw throat.

Ghost had left soon after, not that he was ignorant in checking up on you, but because he knew that wasn’t his place to do so — not yet anyway. He had helped you up from the desk though, soothing his hands up and down your waist before Price took over. He had shared a look with you — his eyes saying everything his mouth wouldn’t.

@tapioca-marzipan @kanyewestburnbook @darksxder @louve-barnes @emodanoriddler @imonmykneessir @nightingal3-tales @ghost-2513 @fruitymoonbeams-blog

I tagged the ppl who commented on ARDOUR, if your name isn’t in grey then it wouldn’t let me tag you x

Call Of Duty MW2 Masterlist

[jimmy-j-james]

Any chance you could make a part two of Venom!Reader x Price, or a similar idea with Soap/Ghost? I think it's such a cool prompt

VENOM AU W/ SOAP AND GHOST

- Ghost x M!symbiote!reader & Soap x M!symbiote!reader

- Proofread:

- Genre: ???

- Synopsis: Drabbles on what it’d be like if Soap and Ghost had you as their symbiote, or more specifically their first impressions.

A/N: If anyone is wanting either drabbles for other characters, or full stories like Price’s, do request!

⚠️ Simon’s part is a bit graphic and more aggressive in nature⚠️

════════════════

SIMON ‘GHOST’ RILEY

Simon had found you while on a lone mission. The task at hand was simple. Walk in, grab the valuables (this case being the illegal scientific subjects), and get out.

Of course, the Brit wasn’t as lucky as the one tank for grabs was broken, the symbiote no where in sight.

The sight was a panic alone, but what further presented as eerie was the obscene sounds of wet flesh from above.

As Simon raised his gaze, he was shocked to find a black inky blob drop down onto his face. Pained noises escaping the man as the unlabelled thing forced its way into his maw before disappearing into his body.

Panting and shaking, Simon calls in the incident, called back for evac and an immediate check up with the base’s doctors.

The checkup had gone awful. He was sweating, hungry, and aggressive. Feral, that’s how the doctors described him.

They sent him in for an MRI, which had only caused more harm. In a strange fit of rage, Simon had even destroyed the machine. God knows how he had the strength to do such harm..

The strange behaviours only continued though. From general hunger to thoughts of cannibalism.. he’d express his concerns to Price again, earning himself a necessary time in solitary.

Pounding at the walls, screaming things he’d swear was out of his control. He felt insane and drained.

Lying back against a cold stone wall, that’s when Simon met the parasite. He had thought it was trick of the eye, but no.

A slick and slimy tendril traced out from beneath his sleeve, snaking down onto the floor as grasping hold of a small mouse that had been idly picking through rubble.

Simon watched out in horror as the creature strangled the small creature. Inside he thought back to the men he had killed in similar ways, but something about the way this small mouse was slowly being killed.. it scared him.

The tendril slowly retrieved the dead mouse, dragging it up to the head it had poked out from Simon’s shoulder.

The crunch alone scared traumatized the Brit, shooting up in a panic as he banged on the door desperately. Shouting out about the alien.. something passers would ignore on claims of him being insane.

“You are scared?” A low, raspy, and grotesque voice calls out from behind Simon, another small tendril slipping up his neck, beneath his mask. “They will not help you like I can. You want love, I can be that.”

The tendril is cold to the touch, dragging goosebumps along the man’s skin. A stuttered exhale leaving Simon’s scarred lips. He can’t help the way the touches relax him, an unexplainable phenomenon.

“You like this?” The creature purrs, almost tauntingly. “You humans are such needy beings.”

To you, Simon was a needy man. He practically lived off your touch and praise. Completely and solely dependent on you.

It was such a contrast to his past shell of being. The old Ghost, the one that would berate him for being so clingy to this alien.. but to him, it didn’t matter. All that mattered was you.

He fed you his victims, devoted his life to you. Saw upon you as a god rather than a parasite. A blessing even.

No one knew if it was a good or bad change for the bloke, but one thing was certain. Don’t bother trying to remove you from his body. If you were to be removed, either you’d let the man die, or he’d let himself die. Both of you needed each other, and no one could take that from you.

════════════════

JOHN ‘SOAP’ MACTAVISH

John had found you after running loose within a crash site. He had happened to pass by the crash of your ship, to which you had taken it upon yourself to use him as a host, without his knowledge of course.

He hadn’t noticed until days had passed. He was constantly craving weird things.. chocolate at first but then live animals. Next was the ungodly fevers he faced. Constantly sweating, and not your average amount either. Drenched head to toe in the stench. It was so bad to the point he was forced on medical leave, forced into bed rest while studied by the many doctors on base.

All was fine until they had him in a MRI. He freaked, or more so, whatever possessed him did. It was painful and traumatic. Seeing the sickly black mess slide across the floor. The doors were immediately locked, trapping him inside with it. Better him than the whole base, huh?

It’s what caused the alien creature to reattach to his body, to the life source it needed. It was what provoked the first verbal contact with said being.

“They want to hurt us.” It echoed throughout the Scot’s thoughts. Causing the man to stammer and desperately disagree.

“M-me? No, no, no! They’re after you!” He argued in turn, accent heavy in the moments of his panic. “Steamin’ jesus- get out of my body! Out of my head!”

To anyone else, the man looked absolutely insane. Fisting into his Mohawk, screaming on into an empty room. He remained like that, all until the other being spoke again. An grotesque tendril slipping out from his wrist, wrapping around one of his fingers.

“They don’t understand you like I do, John.”

The knowledge of his name alone had Johnny choking up. He was scared beyond belief. This had to be some cruel joke, maybe even the side effects of a bad concussion? But no. This was real. The thing was real. And he was stuck with it.

You thought of Johnny as the perfect specimen. Destructive and dependent of social praise. But those things didn’t matter anymore, he had you!

You kept him alive and well, refusing to detach from the Scot without harm caused. You truly were a parasite to him.

It had taken him awhile, but he had eventually learned to accept and care for you. Truly the perfect specimen.

════════════════

[siren-141]

45 with Ghost 🙏🏽🙏🏽

warnings: sex, a tiny bit of angst, hurt/comfort. have fun :) summer sleepover

roses - awaken I am

“Cheers,” everyone raised their glasses to the center of the table as Gaz spoke. “To the 141 and to my best friend for hosting this lovely dinner for us.”

Everyone clinked their glasses with one another, taking a sip of the crimson wine in the glass. The boys had just finished up a successful mission and had gotten back, and you couldn’t help but offer to host them for a night. After all, they deserved a nice home-cooked meal and some well-aged wine.

You looked around the table, smile only faltering when you met eyes with Simon. You knew things would be awkward when you had told your childhood best friend, Gaz, to tell his team about the dinner, but you figured you’d just have to get over it.

“Oh no John, you don’t have to get those,” you said, resting a hand on his shoulder above you. He had already taken his place in front of your sink, sleeves rolled up and ready to wash the dishes when you stopped him.

“Please, it’s the least I could do,” he said. Somehow you were able to talk him down, telling him it wasn’t even that many dishes and you’d grab them after everyone was gone. Moving back to the living room of your cozy apartment, he joined the rest of the men and put his jacket back on, gearing up to leave.

“Thank you so much lass, we really enjoyed the food and the company as always,” Johnny leaned down to give you a customary kiss on the cheek.

“It’s no problem at all, you’re all welcome any time,” and with that, the men all said their goodbyes and left. You sighed, locking the door behind them. It wasn’t that bad, you thought, It could have been worse.

Lighting a candle in the living room, you went back to the kitchen to start on the dishes. You got two plates in when you heard a knock on your door.

“Simon..?” you opened your door to be met with the large man, hands in his pockets and looking at the ground. “Did you forget something?”

“No, no. I just…wanted to talk, I guess.”

Welcome to worse.

You hesitantly let him in, watching as he sat on your all-too-familiar couch. Bringing the wine bottle back over, you sat down a few feet away from him, pouring some in each glass and handing it over to him.

–

A few hours had passed since Simon had come back. The two of you caught up after a few months of not talking, not really being in each other’s lives anymore. You talked about your jobs, about school. About relationships. That’s where it all went downhill.

“It was never gonna work out, Si,” you said, voice beginning to raise. You could already feel the tears begin to spring to your eyes.

“I tried,” he responded, pacing the room.

“You were always working-”

“They needed me at my job, I can’t exactly walk away whenever I want to, you know that.”

“I know that Simon, but I needed you too!”

It was silent for a while, both of you letting your words sink in. He brought his hand up to his face, grimacing and rubbing his eyes for a sense of clarity, trying to find the calm in this storm. When he turned around, he was met with a sight that made his heart drop. You were still sitting on your couch, glass of wine in one hand and your head in the other, facing the opposite direction. He saw your shoulders and back rise, and realized you had begun to cry.

Simon walked over, sitting back down next to you. He took the glass from your hand and set it gently on the table in front of you, and took your hand in his. He whispered your name, and you looked at him, a single tear running down your cheek as you tried to gain composure.

“Please don’t cry,” he said softly, thumb brushing the tear away. “I’m sorry.”

You shook your head, almost smiling. “It’s fine. We’ve been over all of it already, we’re past it-”

He leaned in and connected his lips with yours in a soft kiss. He could feel you tense at first, but soon after you relaxed. When the two of you separated, he stayed close, lips almost touching yours still.

“Please. Let me make it up to you,” he spoke in a whisper, heart racing, hoping that he could just have one last chance with you. In that moment, he knew that there was a God as you nodded your head and leaned back in.

The second kiss was more passionate, months of heartbreak being poured into it. He cupped your face in his large hand, deepening the kiss. His tongue moved languidly across yours, missing the way your lips felt on his.

As he moved his hand to your waist to pull you closer, you whimpered into his mouth, and he pulled back. You were about to object when he stood up, guiding you up with him, and leading you to your bedroom.

The two of you stood in your room in silence as he slipped your dress over your head slowly, letting it fall to the ground as he kissed you again, backing you up until your knees hit the bed. You sat down on the edge, and he kneeled in front of you.

“I’ve missed you every day that we’ve been apart,” he breathed as he kissed your neck, trailing kisses down to your chest.

“Can barely concentrate,” he unclasped your bra with expertise, just like he used to all those months ago. He let it fall to the ground on top of your dress. He kissed the apex of your breast, hand squeezing at the other as he listened to your breath hitch.

“My head’s a mess when you’re in it,” he kissed down your stomach, hands squeezing at your waist. He gently pushed you to lay down, raising your hips to pull your tights down your legs and slip them off completely, kissing down your thighs and legs until he had shown your whole body the love he knew it deserved.

He rose from the ground, undressing himself, never breaking eye contact as you laid there, propped up on your elbows.

“Simon,” your soft voice rang in his ears; you were like a siren to him. You could have said anything from anywhere, and he’d abandon ship just to hear you again.

He crawled onto the bed, hovering over you as he placed a kiss on your forehead. His fingers trailed down until they met your core, and you opened your legs up willingly to him, missing his touch more than anything. He began to rub your clit in small, slow circles, already feeling the wetness accumulate on his fingers. Pushing two of his fingers in, he worked you open, swallowing your soft moans.

Gentle waves rolled over you as he brought you to your first climax. Nobody knew your body as well as him; he was able to make you cum with ease, remembering everything about you as if he had blueprints he had studied for ages.

“Please,” you breathed out. He repositioned himself, lining his thick cock up with your entrance, pushing to the hilt until he was fully sheathed inside you. Electricity sparked within you, his cock hitting all of your pleasure points that your toys had missed every time you used them in his absence. He groaned at your wet heat, stilling inside you as he refocused.

“Missed this,” he mumbled against your lips, pulling out and slowly pushing back in. “Feel so good wrapped around me, sweetheart.”

Simon set a slow but powerful pace, hips driving into you deep as you left light scratches along his back. Your room sounded of deep moans and whimpers, both of you having to break from your kiss every time he hit an especially sensitive spot.

“I love you, I never stopped. I never will.” He could feel you clench at his words as he let out another moan, his thrusts starting to move a little bit faster.

“Oh- Simon, baby-” you held him tighter, head thrown back as the pleasure shot up your spine. “Please, please, please…”

He could tell you were close, your pussy tightening around him as he had found just the right angle and pace. “Fuck, sweetheart, just like that- you’re takin’ me so well. Always been a good girl for me, yeah?”

You nodded your head, tears rolling down the sides of your face as you became overwhelmed with his admissions and pleasure. You gasped as he hit your sweet spot continuously, whining and writhing underneath him.

“There you go, I’ve got you. Cum f’me sweetheart, I’m right here,” his words shattered you, your vision going white as your back arched off the bed. “That’s it, go ahead love.”

Pleasure continued to ripple through you, blood rushing through your ears and white-hot ecstasy running through your veins as Simon continued his pace just as it was, just as you liked it. As soon as he saw you begin to come down from your high, his thrusts got sloppier, hips stuttering as he breathed out a fuck in that baritone voice of his. His eyes squeezed shut as he came deep inside you, pushing himself as deep as possible. He pumped himself in you a few more times as he came down himself, finally pulling out and rolling on side of you.

You both laid there for a while, waiting for your heavy breathing and racing hearts to calm down. He pulled you to the side of him, holding you close. You could hear his heartbeat return back to normal. The two of you stayed wrapped in each other’s arms for a couple of minutes.

Simon was the first to break the silence.

“I meant everything I said,” he said quietly, thumb rubbing circles onto your back.

“Yeah?”

“Mhmm,” he hummed, placing a kiss on your forehead.

You both laid like that for what seemed like forever. He was just about to fall asleep, drift off into another world, when you turned onto your side and wrapped an arm around his torso.

“Love you too, Si,” you murmured, eyes already shut.

[thedovesaredying]

Flames of Green | CoD x GoT/HotD | Simon "Ghost" Riley x F!Reader x John "Soap" MacTavish | Part 1.

Artwork by Elizabeth

You're the heir to the Iron Throne, the eldest child of the current king with the blood of the Targaryens flowing through your veins. Unfortunately, you're due to be married off to a mysterious Northern lord by the name of John MacTavish. At least your closest friend and member of your guard, Simon Riley, will be by your side throughout it all.

A/N: I'm back in my House of the Dragon era, so I'm mixing hyperfixations. The Cannibal doesn't get enough love, he's a nasty bastard and he deserves to cause some chaos. It will eventually be a Ghost x Reader x Soap relationship and likely a bit of a slowburn. Literally just for my own entertainment, but I hope y'all enjoy.

Warnings: None

Masterlist: CoD Masterlist

Next

It’s times like this that you mourn the loss of your youth. Forced to sit in silence while discussions are held by old men around a table, weighing up the advantages and disadvantages of your future marriage to every potential high lord in Westeros. Your opinion is never considered, let alone asked for by any of your father’s advisors, your compliance expected regardless.  

If you had been born a man you could have your pick of any woman in the kingdom to take as a wife, but instead, you’re forced to simply accept whatever man is placed in front of you. Such is the burden of being the princess and heir to House Targaryen. You will be made to give up the right to rule the kingdom to the high lord assigned to you, never to touch the ever-elusive Iron Throne that should have been yours by right.  

You had never really taken the prospect of marriage too seriously in your youth, always considering it a problem for the you of the future to deal with. You didn’t care to forge lasting alliances with other ladies and lords, too busy dragging your poor best friend, Simon, through the gardens and dirtying your extravagant dresses. 

But those days were over. 

Talk of wedding a powerful lord and bringing forth the next line of Targaryen children is all that fills your ears now. You’re forced to entertain every man, young and old, that wishes to gain your favour with a polite smile and feigned interest. You don’t even have your dear Simon to offer you his companionship and a break from the cruel realities of the world. No doubt he would have entertained you with his dry remarks about each man set before you.  

It has been years since you last saw Simon. He was taken from the Red Keep by his father and sent to squire for another lord in the hopes of teaching him the art of warfare. Lord Riley was a foul man, constantly berating his son for spending his time with the Princess rather than roughhousing with his fellow boys. He considered the boy too soft and squeamish at the sight of blood to make a good future lord of their keep.  

You disagreed, of course, Simon was perfect just the way he was; gentle and kind to all those around him. Your friend couldn’t hurt a fly, but he was still one of the bravest people you knew.  

You dread to think just how much he would have hated being drawn into battles, forced to kill other men with his own hands. The letters he occasionally wrote to you always steered clear of depicting the violence you were certain he must have been subjected to, but you’re far from naive enough to hope he has yet to participate in any bloodshed. As the years dragged on, word from him has grown scarce, however, to the point where you can hardly remember when you heard from him last.  

What you do know, is that he had been sent to offer assistance in maintaining peace throughout the Stepstones, killing raiders and pirates that would endanger trade routes to King’s Landing.  

But that was almost six months ago, and there has been little else to soothe your vexed nerves over his safety. He had made a promise to you the day he left, that once his training was done he would return to your side, this time as a knight who would offer himself to your Queen’s Guard once the time was right. Never again would he leave you, more than happy to forfeit the ruling of his own homeland if it meant he could keep you safe.  

You had clung to that promise every day for years after his departure, but with each passing moment it become harder to hold out hope of seeing him again. After all, what is one promise between children in the grand scheme of things?  

It’s a blessing when you’re finally relieved from the meeting, escaping from the suffocating air within the council chambers and fleeing to the safety of your room. You don’t even pause to ensure one of your guards is following you, getting straight to stripping from your dress and replacing it with your riding gear.  

As the carriage carries you away from the city and toward the Dragon Pit your nerves begin to settle. The constant odour of sweat and excrement quickly gives way to fresh air the further away you get. It’s a beautiful day, with hardly a cloud in the sky and wildflowers blooming all along the road. It’s a genuine shame that your day has started so poorly, otherwise you’d have loved to wander the palace gardens and enjoy the midday sun.  

The ground is rocky outside of the dragon pit, and you’re jostled around a bit until the carriage comes to a stop. Although this is your destination, the dragon you seek is not here. Your dragon is far too large to be housed within the Pit.  

Unlike your younger sister, you were not blessed by the Gods to have your dragon egg hatch while you were in the cradle. All throughout your childhood you sat next to it and prayed for the hatchling to come forth, promising you would care for the creature and love it more than anything. But the baby dragon never arrived.  

Many said that it was a sign from the Gods, that you were unfit to be the heir if even your own dragon refused to hatch for you. It was a heavy sentence hanging around your neck, weighing you down and making you feel as though you are worthless, despite the fact you have more power than most of the people laughing at your situation.  

None of them are laughing now.  

You see your dragon stretched out atop one of the nearby ridges. He’s so large that his wings and tail drape over the edge of the rocks, entirely unconcerned by the humans fearfully gathered beneath him as he snoozes away in the warmth of the sun. His scales are like coal, absorbing every ray of sunshine that he can.  

The Cannibal may not be as large as Vhagar, but he’s far older and, as many would argue, far meaner than the old girl. Where most dragons have vibrant, golden eyes, you’re greeted by a pair of sinister green the moment you draw near. His go-to reaction to most things is aggression, and you’ve seen many people meet their end in a blast of emerald flame for merely disturbing him.  

It’s for that precise reason you’re stunned to see someone standing beside the grumpy old beast. There’s only one person other than yourself who could get anywhere near the Cannibal without immediately being swallowed whole. The man pauses his rubbing of your dragon’s scales the moment he sees you, only to earn a displeased whack from the Cannibal’s snout. You bite your lip to force down the grin that’s threatening to spread across your face when the man drops down to one knee, his head bowed respectfully.  

“Lord Riley,” you nod, “I do believe that’s my dragon you’re touching.” That earns a groan from the Cannibal, his massive head twisting away from you both, as though already bored of the conversation.  

“A thousand apologies, princess,” Simon grins, his eyes sparkling with mirth, “your dragon was growing impatient.” The dragon in question huffs, his tail twitching like an agitated cat.  

Simon looks so different from the last time you saw him. He’s both taller and broader, completely filled out with muscles. When he stands again, you’re face to face with the rather intimidating bone mask adorning his face. You’re not certain if it’s real bone, but at that moment you could have cared less, throwing yourself at the large man.  

He catches you easily, holding you tightly against his larger body. It’s entirely improper and if anyone other than your guards witnessed such an interaction there would no doubt be whispers abound. Perhaps it’s a good thing Simon decided to meet you somewhere so private.  

“When did you get back?” you ask, leaning back just long enough to look him in the eye.  

“We docked late last night,” he answers, and you can feel the way his chest rumbles with each word. His deep voice soothes something within you, your stress dissipating like mist at dawn. “We received word that the King’s Guard now has an open position,” he continues, and then much to your shock adds, “I’m here to fill that position.”  

You pull away from him almost completely, only your hands still gently curled around his gauntlets, “but I heard that your father was recently taken ill, don’t you need to return home?”  

While the mask hides the majority of Simon’s face, you can still see the way the skin around his eyes crinkles slightly, “I made a promise to serve my future Queen,” he takes your hand from his arm and presses the back of your palm to where his lips are beneath his mask, “if you’ll have me, princess.”  

You can feel your face burning with the intensity with which Simon stares at you. “I’m certain my father will be delighted to have such a well-regarded warrior in his service,” you smile, gently pulling your hands away from the knight, despite the urge to keep holding onto him.  

Before you can continue the conversation, the Cannibal turns his head back to your again, nudging at you with an irritated huff. His breath is scalding against your skin, yet it doesn’t burn you, thankfully. You place your hand against the beast’s snout, feeling the thick scales shift under your leather gloves. “Gīda,” you coo to the dragon, waiting until he lowers his wing to the floor to provide you with a way to climb onto his back. He’s far too large for you to mount the same way you would a younger dragon.  

Once settling into the Cannibal’s saddle, you grin down at your friend, “I look forward to seeing you in the keep, my lord.” You only have the time to see Simon’s quick nod, before your dragon is leaping from the edge of the ridge, forcing an end to your conversation. You can feel his clear exasperation through your bond and ensure to give the old dragon a scratch to the neck.  

[logbush]

Yay a Glee (Quinn) writer! lol I miss her! Can I request reader lending her sweater to Quinn, when Quinn is home, she realizes she still has r’s sweater and she find r’s iPod. Out of curiosity, Quinn looks through it and finds a playlist titled with her name, friends to lovers please! :)

Lost Something?

1,035 words

fluff

quinn fabray x reader

a/n: this was hard to write for some reason lol. keep sending your requests, im working on them right now and they should be out sometime soon!!

if someone would’ve told you that you would’ve fallen for your best friend quinn fabray, you would’ve laughed in their face. but here you were, sitting across from her at breadstix trying hard not to lean over and kiss her. she was wearing a red sundress, matching her red headband, and jeans. a look that made your knees weak. you, however, had decided to dress down for the occasion, a hoodie and sweats, you didnt expect her to dress up so you didnt.

she looked at you and laughed softly “whats going through your mind, y/l/n,” she said softly before taking a bite of her food. you shook your head “no nothing, dont worry” you replied before pushing your plate away, something you did whenever you were done with your food. “you’re already done? i just started!” she joked, trying to finish her food faster. “hey, we dont have to finish at the same time” she laughed softly before copying you and pushing her plate away towards you after she finished.

the waitress brought the check by, you and quinn looked at each other. you both wanted to pay but you didnt want to fight about it so you just let her. she smiled as she reached for the check and put her card in it. you sat back and looked at her with a smile. “you let me pay?” she questioned. “i didnt want to fight about it” you answered. she shook her head “we wouldn’t have fought, i would’ve just made us get my way” she smiled while you laughed, “sounds like a fight to me” the waitress brought back quinn’s card. the blonde said a quick ‘thank you’ to her before the two of you got up and started to leave.

it was cold outside, ohio in december isn’t exactly the warmest. you looked at the cheerleader next to you, watching as she was shivering. you quickly took your hoodie off before handing it to her “put it on” you instructed as you walked with her to your car. she looked at you, without your hoodie you were left in just a t-shirt. she shook her head “i dont want you to freeze” she wrapped her arms around her body, trying to conserve warmth, “i’m not going to freeze, q, you might though” quinn scoffed jokingly before taking the hoodie from your hands and slipping it on, the smell of you wafting through her senses.

quinn wouldn’t never admit this to anyone, but she was starting to catch feelings for you as well. you did the sweetest things try to make her happy, like giving her your hoodie whenever she was cold or making her her favorite pastry whenever she was sad. you remembered the small things and she loved that about you.

you dropped quinn off at her house about a half an hour ago. she had been sitting on her bed in your hoodie all that time. she turned on her side and put her hands in the pocket. the blonde felt something touch her hand. curious, she pulled it out of the pocket and looked at it. your ipod. god, you must’ve been dying without this. you can barely go five minutes without music.

quinn got curious about what you had been listening to all these years so she decided to go through it. show tunes, neil diamond, john denver, billy joel, simon and garfunkel. all people she was expecting, you weren’t very new with your tastes. she kept going through it before landing on a playlist. this playlist intrigued the blonde, as it was titled ‘quinn <3’.

the cheerleader smiled at the sight before quickly clicking on it before she could think. make you feel my love, lucky, something, but one song stood out to her, you belong with me by taylor swift. the only song from this playlist she actually knew and knew the meaning of.

quinn sat stunned, the thought of you actually liking her back made her crazy. she couldn’t wait til tomorrow to find out, she needed to know now. the blonde raced downstairs and outside to her car. she got in and drove to your house, breaking numerous speeding and stopping laws.

once the blonde got to your house she knocked on the door until someone answered. just to her luck, you were the one who answered. “whats up quinn? why are you knocking so much?” quinn looked up at you, looking at you dressed in sweats and a tank top. she gently bit her lower lip before holding up your ipod, “lost something?” she said with a smirk. you smiled brightly before yanking your ipod from her hands “oh my god i thought this was gone forever! was it in my hoodie?” you questioned while bringing her inside and up to your room. quinn nodded and sat on your bed “it was, you know, there was a certain little playlist that caught my eye”

your eyes went wide and you looked down, trying to avoid any and all eye contact “i dont know what you’re talking about” you mumbled. quinn smiled and looked at you, she didnt need your confirmation, your reaction made her know you liked her. you felt the warmth of her hand on your back rubbing soft circles “hey its okay, can you look at me for a minute?” she questioned. you looked at her, scared for whats going to happen. the blonde used her hand to cup your cheek, gently rubbing the apple of it. “you like me right?” she asked. you closed your eyes in fear, you didnt want to lose her. you just nodded in response, your eyes still closed.

quinn sighed and looked at you, she knew you weren’t going to open your eyes so instead of trying to talk to you, she just placed a gentle kiss on your lips. “i like you too” she said softly. you opened your eyes slowly, making eye contact with her before kissing her again. she smiled and kissed back before laying down on her back, inviting you to lay on her. you laid your head on her chest.

“so are you gonna send me that playlist, love?”

[deathsimage]

Group “therapy” session

!! 18+ only !!

Haven’t really had time to write or post so sorry if this is messy, I’m way too exhausted to look over it but I wanted to post something so here we go. I hope you lot enjoy. 🫶🏻

Also too tired to add all the tags so feel free to tag more stuff

Warnings: sexual language and descriptions (all consensual)

Content: milking kink, group masturbation, cum shots, light bondage, m/m, strong language

Featuring: Captain John Price, Sergeant John Soap Mactavish, Lieutenant Simon Ghost Riley, Sergeant Kyle Gaz Garrick, Alejandro Vargas, Rodolfo Parra, Alex Echo Keller, Colonel König

Pairings: poly 141, AleRudy, GhostKonig, GazAlex, SoapPrice, GhostPrice, GazPrice, AlePrice, RudySoap (just a bunch of sluts tbh)

It began as a somewhat innocent- hah, yeah no…it began as an idiotic young male conversation like most things boys get into. Alex, Gaz, and Soap giggling and snickering as they tried to say who could last longer in bed. Somehow the conversation drug Ghost and Price into it, how Alex assumed they would last longest, seeing how they had such a sense of self control, while Gaz and Soap wouldn’t last a minute because they were, as Alex quoted, “whiney and breedable.”

Now it somehow ended up as a bet…but they still had to convince Price and Ghost to join the bet…

Price was surprisingly amused with the bet and decided he would join rather quickly. Ghost on the other hand…he only agreed when he was told he was the most probable to win so now he had something to prove. Now they had to get help.

Alejandro was a bit too excited to contribute, and Rudy was just happy to be involved. König didn’t know what to think, his mind practically shut down at the question of if he would help jerk off one of the 141 in an attempt to see who could last the longest before cumming.

It was in motion now. All four of the special task force men were tied at the wrists from the ceiling, each standing in just their boxer briefs with their arms suspended above their heads. Price was now beginning to wonder what the hell he had gotten himself into, and Ghost was just ready to prove he was the better amongst the rest of them. Soap, he was excited for completely different reasons. So was Gaz.

The other four men who weren’t standing half naked were discussing who they were going to ‘take’ for the challenge. Ending up with Alex refusing to let anyone else have Gaz, and König sheepishly requesting Ghost or Soap. Alejandro took the ‘big man’ being Price, with a smirk on his face as he winked at Price and gave his ass a slap. Rudy was happy to take Soap so that left König with his first choice of Ghost. Everyone was happy.

Alex pulled out a duffle bag, having the clear open ended masturbation sleeves, and vibrators.

“Hey that’s not fair!” Soap pouted, but his squirming just at the sight told a different story.

Each of the 141 was now being stripped of their boxers and stepping out of them. Alex immediately took Gaz into his mouth, seeming more eager than anyone there just to have a reason to fuck around with Gaz. Gaz threw his head back at the sensation of Alex taking his cock nearly completely down his throat. Soap looked over at Gaz with a smirk, biting his lip as Rudy spit in his hand and began to stroke Soaps cock, bringing a breathy whimper from Soaps lips. Alejandro pressed his thumb firmly against Prices tip, bringing a groan from Prices chest as Alejandro rubbed the precum over Prices slit. König sat kneeled in front of Ghost, looking up at him as if waiting for permission to touch him. Ghost simply looked down at König and gave a small nod, giving König the go ahead to touch him. König brought his hand up to Ghosts cock, his other hand moving his mask up above his nose to lick at Ghosts tip, making a deep breath escape his nose. Clearly Ghost was trying to hide his pleasure, but Königs kitten licks were something he wasn’t expecting.

Now that each member of the 141 was prepped and properly hard, the lube and toys came out. Alex grabbing a cock sleeve and stroking Gaz at a fairly quick pace, leaving his tongue out to lick at Gaz’s tip every time it was exposed. Rudy grabbed a sleeve and a vibrator for Soap, slowly shucking the sleeve up and down Soaps cock as he held the vibrator against him, making Soaps hips buck and his legs shake as his moans overtook the sound of the vibrator. Alejandro took a vibrator and rubbed it up and down the underside of Prices cock, his free hand massaging Prices balls.

“Mm, fuck-“ Price spit out as he arched his back, making Alejandro grin as if he had won something.

König wasn’t sure what to do…just looking up at Ghost with embarrassment.

“Do what feels natural. Don’t worry about what they’re doing..” Ghost reassured König. König nodded and took Ghost back into his mouth, sucking till his cheeks hallowed out, bringing a loud groan from Ghost that no one expected. König looked up at Ghost with his cock still sucked into his lips, beginning to bob his head as his large hands gripped Ghosts thighs.

Sounds of moans, vibrations, lewd wet slick smacking sounds, accompanied by cursing and groaning filled the room. It didn’t take long honestly, only about 10 minutes before the first loser came.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck! Rudy! Please!” Soap screamed. If it wasn’t for the restraints holding him up his knees would’ve given out long ago. Rudy moved the vibrator around to Soaps asshole so he could shuck the sleeve faster on Soaps cock, making his entire body shake and twitch as he climaxed, cumming so hard it splashed on Rudy’s face and dripped to the floor.

“First loser!” Alex chimed out while shucking the sleeve on Gaz’s cock. Rudy untied Soap and helped him regain his composure before taking him to go clean up, leaving the others to finish off their session.

Alejandro was sucking on Prices balls like his life depended on it, his hand still running the vibrator over Prices cock, pressing it against the tip, causing Price to groan and shake, standing on the tips of his toes as he arched his back and pulled against his restraints that were suspending him from the ceiling.

König looked up at Ghost and pulled back off of his cock. “May we…try something else Lieutenant?”

“Whatever you want to do is fine.” Ghost reassured him. This made König feel much more at ease about what he had in mind. König stood up and cut Ghosts restraints, letting his arms come down to his sides.

“Hey that’s not fa-AIR-“ Gaz tried to choke out

“Don’t worry sergeant, I assure you it will be” König got down on his hands and knees in front of Ghost, pushing his pants down to his knees, bending over and reaching back to spread himself open for Ghost. “I would be honored if you…if you had your way with me Lieutenant…” König spoke softly. Ghost groaned and immediately dropped to his knees behind König, not even caring if this would make it more difficult than the others. Ghost spit in his hand and spread the slick over Königs hole, sliding a finger inside of him to prep him, eventually entering another finger to stretch him. After pulling his fingers out, Ghost lined his cock up with Königs prepped hole, slowly pushing into him. Königs precum leaked to the floor as he moaned with Ghost as their bodies connected. Ghost very soon bottomed out into König, not taking a moment to waste before beginning to roughly snap his hips into König.

“Ah! Ah yes! Danke Lieutenant!!” König yelled, drooling on the floor as his face was pressed down.

Watching Ghost fuck König so desperately in front of them made it even more difficult for Price and Gaz to hold out.

“Wait, we’re allowed to do that?” Alex looked up at Gaz. Gaz was moaning too much to respond, just nodded. Alex stopped shucking Gaz and stood up, going around behind him and pushing his own pants down before putting some lube on himself. Gaz arched his back to push his ass up to Alex, giving Alex all he needed to push his cock into Gaz’s tight clenching hole.

“Mm, fuck~” Alex moaned, leaning in and muffling his sound’s against Gaz’s skin.

“Bloody hell-“ Price choked out, watching the other two fuck was what pushed him over the edge. Not many people knew that was one of his favorite things. Price surprisingly was the next to cum, his cock twitching as Alejandro kept the vibrator against Prices balls to make sure every drop was out. Now it was Alejandro’s turn to take Price to clean up and rehydrate.

Alex reached up and untied Gaz, but only to press him against the wall behind them. Alex was fucking Gaz into the wall, gripping Gaz’s hips as Gaz gripped onto Alex’s hands. Gaz was quickly approaching his climax, fully prepared to finish Alex off but-

“Fuck Gaz, I’m cumming- please let me cum in you!” Alex whined. Gaz nodded and reached a hand back to grip Alex’s hair as Alex bit and sucked on the skin of Gaz’s shoulder, leaving hickeys behind to remember tomorrow. “Yes, yes please cum in me Alex!” Gaz moaned. Once given the okay, Alex let himself spill inside of Gaz, the feeling of the warm sticky cum filling him up pushed Gaz over the edge, feeling marked and owned by Alex. His legs shook as his cum spilled into the floor beneath them. Both of them breathing heavily, staying out for a few moments before they were able to slowly make their way to go clean themselves up and rest. Leaving the winner, Ghost.

Ghost was still pounding König into the floor, one hand pressing Königs face against the floor, the other hand gripping Königs hip, clearly leaving bruises. “Yes, yes yes! Ghost!” König panted and moaned, letting Ghost use him as his personal cock sleeve. It wasn’t too much longer before Ghost pulled out and came on Königs hole, using his thumb to rub it in, making König squirm and whimper. Ghost was finished, but he knew König wasn’t, and he wasn’t about to just leave him like that.

“Roll over.” Ghost commanded. König swiftly obeyed and rolled onto his back. Ghost finished pulling Königs pants off and pushed his legs back. Ghost bent over to begin sucking off Königs cock, two of his fingers entering Königs used and cum covered hole. König arched his back, cursing in German at the dual sensation of being fucked from both ends.

Keeping a good rhythm with both his mouth and his fingers, Ghost was quick to finish König off. König had never cum this hard in his life…and he prayed it wasn’t the last time.

It definitely wouldn’t be the last time.

Turns out nobody knew what they’re were even betting for. They had all forgotten it was a bet by this point anyway.

[viking-raider]

HOME *Fic Request*

Summary: You and Henry crushed on each other, while growing up in Jersey. But, when he went away to boarding school, then became famous, you lost touch for a long time. Until, Henry decided to return home to Jersey, for a holiday, and recalled his crush on you, now a teacher, when you happen upon each other on the beach.

Pairing: Henry/Reader

Rating: You guessed it, FLOOF!

Word Count: 6,214

A/N: The Lavender and Red roses he brings the Reader mean something, I always felt Henry was a hopeless and amazing Romantic so he’d hide a message in their color. Lavender means: love at first sight, since they fell in love at first sight as kids, and again as adults, and the Red means: conveying deep emotions, since they both love each other very much.

Inspiration: Requested by @jessevans​ (x)

Tag List:@jennylovelyheart​, @peakygroupie​

“Are you ever going to tell her you like her, bro?” Simon asked, watching Henry stare at their next door neighbor, as they all hung out on the beach.

“That requires talking to her, and not stuttering every three words.” Charlie replied, grinning at his little brother.

“Shut up.” Henry barked, walking away from them.

“Hey, Henry.” You called, as he walked by. “You going home already?” You asked.

“Uh, yeah.” He smiled at you, feeling his face warm. “I got, um...homework.” he said, turning to head home, flipping his brothers off as they laughed at him, and unaware of you watching him go.

                                       20 years later – 2016

“Welcome home, bro!” Simon grinned, as Henry walked in the door of his family home in Jersey. “It's only been how fucking long, since you were last here? Home not big enough for the mighty Superman.” he teased, hugging him.

“Fuck off, Simon.” Henry grinned, hugging him back. “I'm not the same little brother I was, last time, I was home.” he commented.

Simon looked his brother over, Henry wasn't the same kid he had been, he was bigger in many ways, especially with all the muscle he was packing now, even more so since he'd just finished filming the Batman v. Superman movie. “Perhaps not, little.” he chuckled, patting Henry on the chest.

Henry laughed back, and the pair started play fighting until their mother yelled at them for it, and told them to come join the rest of the family at the table for dinner. After dinner and spending time with his family, Henry found some time to go down to the beach he enjoyed visiting as kid. He walked along it, watching as the sunset, enjoying the sea breeze and listening to the soothing sound of the waves crashing on the sand; it was the most peaceful Henry had felt since before he became Superman. He paused, seeing someone sitting in the sand a couple yards away from him. A shiver run down his back, catching the last of the sun's rays in their hair, and seeing the profile of their face, making his mind jump back to his childhood.

There was a knock on the door, and a bit of a scuffle behind it, before it finally opened, revealing 13-year old Henry, blushing like mad, and out of breath. “Hey, y/n.” he grinned, wildly.

“Are you okay, Henry?” You asked, tilting your head at him, concerned.

“Yeah, I'm fine.” he gulped and licked his lips, nervously. “Uh, I can, um, help...you?” he asked, trying to play it cool, and failing.

You chuckled, smiling back. “My brothers, and I, want to know if you and your brothers want to go to the beach with us?” You asked, brushing your hair behind your ear, and making poor Henry gulp even harder. “We got a new volleyball net.” You offered, in reason.

“That sounds great, y/n.” You heard Henry's oldest brother Niki say, popping up behind Henry. “We'll meet you guys there!” he said, pushing Henry out of the way, and grinning at you charmingly.

“Excellent.” You grinned back at him, but, your eyes lingered on Henry, before you left.

“You're welcome, Henry.” Niki grinned, going upstairs to get ready for the beach.

“Y/n?” Henry called to you, coming closer.

You started out of your thoughts, and glanced up at the voice calling to you. “Henry Cavill?” You frowned, standing up to greet him. “Holy shit. How have you been, Superman?” You teased him, watching him blush as easily as he did that last time you saw him.

“Good.” Henry answered, licking his lips. “How long has it been since...we last saw each other?” he asked, he'd found you even more gorgeous, now, than he had growing up with you.

“The day before you went off to boarding school.”

Henry's lips pressed into a flat line and he gulped around the horrible memory of going to boarding school, but blinked and shook it out of his head, not letting it distract him from you. “Christ, I was fifteen.”

“Yeah, feels like a lifetime ago.” You sighed, you'd heard how hard it was for him. “And you're famous now!” You smiled, changing the subject for the both of you.

“I am.” Henry laughed, looking down at his bare, sandy feet. “And, what do you do now?” he asked, meeting your eye.

“I'm a teacher, now.” You told him, brushing your hair behind your ear. “At our old Preparatory School, actually.” You blushed.

“That's incredible.” Henry beamed. “You were always great with kids.” he said, a sinking feeling in his stomach. “Piers, told me you got married a few years ago, I'm happy for you.” He told you, feeling the bubbling bile in his stomach reach his throat, as he said the words, and forcing the smile to stay on his face.

“Piers, knows better.” You told him, sighing.

Henry blinked, caught off-guard. “What do you mean?”

“James and I had our divorce finalized yesterday.” You grinned, despite the hurt in your chest. You had loved your now ex-husband, but, that loved didn't last a year, into the almost seven-year marriage. It wasn't like the love you'd held close to your heart for Henry, even after all these years. You could still feel it throbbing against your heart, as you looked up at him.

“I'm sorry.” Henry frowned, moving to hug you, before he even realized what he was doing. “I'm so sorry.” he whispered, against your hair.

You were utterly shocked that he hugged you, the gasp you took when he closed his arms around you, letting you feel the impressive change in his body since the last time the pair of you hugged, the alluring scent of his cologne, and warmth of his body against the cool sea air.

“I'm going to miss you, Henry.” You'd told him, standing in his parent's living room, as they threw him a going away party, before he went off to Boarding school, the next day.

“I'm going to miss you too, y/n.” Henry sighed, he'd practically begged his parents not to send him, but they wanted the best education for him, so he was going. “We'll be able to see each other on holidays.” he added, hopefully.

“I'd really like that.” You smiled, then hugged him, quickly, before jetting off to some other part of the house, shy, embarrassed and hurt, that he was leaving.

Of course neither of you saw each other on those holidays, it was a few months later you went on a foreign exchange program to the U.S, and Henry graduated, before you came back, staying in London, permanently.

Suddenly, both of you realized what had happened, and shyly moved apart, stammering apologizes and brushing them off with mumbled words.

“Anyway...” You cleared your throat and ran a hand through your hair. “What are you doing back in Jersey?” You asked, managing to look him in the eye again.

“I, uh.” Henry gulped, toeing at the sand. “I just, uh, finished filming Batman versus Superman, and thought I'd come home and take a...” he wiggled his head, trying to find a word to use.

“Take a holiday?” You helped, smirking.

Henry looked at you slowly, a sweet smile pulling on his lips, meeting his blue eyes so much, you could see the bit of brown in his left one. “A Holiday.” he agreed, nodding.

“Well, Henry.” You smiled back, glancing up at the now dark sky, the bright stars. “It's late, on a school night...”

“Oh, right.” He started, looking embarrassed. “I'm sorry...could I....walk you home?” he asked, flustered.

You looked at him, a tiny bit amused by his being gentlemanly, especially since he played Superman, you thought, fighting a giggle about it. “I'd rather like that.” You smiled. “But, it is like a...fifteen minutes walk to Cannon Street.” You warned.

“Fifteen or fifty minutes, I don't mind at all.” He assured you back, politely offering you his arm.

“Fair enough.” You chuckled, taking his arm.

Henry let you direct him in the way to your house, that you had, fortunately, gotten in the divorce settlement, or you'd be living with your mother in St. John, clear on the other side of the island; where you would have missed Henry finding you on the beach. You both walked together in peaceful silence, but Jersey was a small place, and people generally, always, knew each other, even by just a face. Henry's face was hugely recognizable, and Jersey was largely proud of their home town boy making it big. So, people recognized him, and You, on the street, stopping the pair of you a few times to take photos with him, or sign something, before letting him off the hook, and you took his arm again. You were unphased by all the attention he got, he was just Henry to you. You were proud of him, always. However, he was still that boy you knew; his status might have changed, his body and whatever else, but, he was still that Henry Cavill, the sweet and shy boy next door, that had owned your heart since the day you and your family moved into the house next door to his. You were six, and he was eight. He was good to you, at times, the world was not.

“Well, this is me.” You smiled, pulling you both to a stop in front of your house.

“It's a sweet little place.” Henry smiled, looking up at the simple two-story row house. “Can I ask you something?” he asked, looking down at you, thoughtfully.

“Of course.” You nodded, sweetly, shy butterflies in your stomach.

“Would you like to have dinner with me sometime?” He asked, biting the inside of his lip.

“Like, go out on a date?” You asked, brow creasing.

“We don't have to go out.” He told you, his fingers circling the top of your hand as it rested in the crease of his elbow. “We can have it here, if you're more comfortable. I'll even cook for you.”

“You cook?” You grinned at him, playful and flattered.

“I do,” He nodded, straightening up. “Quite well, if I say so myself.” He added, teasing.

“Well, we can find that out.” You told him, encouraging his suggestion.

“How about Saturday?” He asked, his eyes sparkling with excitement.

You took a deep breath, even this far you could still smell the sea as strong as if the both of you were still there. “If you don't mind me grading papers, while you cook? Friday's are still test and quiz days.” You giggled, licking your lips.

“I don't mind at all.” Henry told you, softly, leaning his head a little closer to yours.

You gulped, feeling his warm breath on your face. “Then, it's a date, Mr. Cavill.” You told him, resolutely.

“Perfect.” He grinned. “Don't worry about groceries, I'll have that covered.” He added, as you let his arm go and started inside.

You looked back at Henry over your shoulder and gave him a wink, then went inside, resting back against your door and giggled with glee at the prospect of Henry Cavill cooking for you, in your house. “I could melt.” You said, pushing off the door.

Henry stood on the sidewalk outside your home; watching, seeing your shadow move along the shuttered windows, his mind flitting around various things, what to cook for you, what wine to bring that you might like, what to wear, and what teasing his brothers were going to give him for finally being able to ask you out...sorta. Seeing your shadow appear in behind one of the windows, he turned abruptly on his heels and quickly walked across the street and back home.

“Where were you, Hank?” Charlie asked, his brothers were staying at the house, for the night, so they could see him.

“Um..” Henry gulped, eyes wide and on the floor between them.

“What did you do, brother?” Charlie asked, smirking, he knew that look of his brother's, he was guilty of something, something juicy.

“You remember,” Henry started, then thought fuck it. “You remember Y/n?”

“Of course, she was like a sister, we all spent so much time together, and you crushing on her like a poor man after bread.” Charlie laughed. “What about her?”

“I asked her out, on a date, just a few minutes ago.” Henry confessed, meeting Charlie's eyes.

“You do know she's married, Henry.” Charlie said, shocked.

“No, she's not.” Henry snapped, butterflies in his stomach. “She's divorced as of yesterday.”

“Well, you went quickly.” Charlie teased, slapping Henry on the shoulder. “How in the hell did you see her again? Don't tell me you went out after dinner, to go looking for her.”

“No!” Henry groaned, frowning, and abashed. “I went to the beach for a walk, and I found her there.”

“And?” Charlie pressured him.

“We spoke and I walked her home.”

“That's a twenty-minute walk!” His brother roared.

“How the fuck do you know that?”

“She's my son's teacher.” Charlie smirked, amused and proud of Henry. “And, this is a stupid small place to live, bro. It's not London, where you never see the same face twice.”

Henry pursed his lips, Charlie was right, he had somewhat forgotten the small town effect. “Anyway, we're having dinner at her place, I'm cooking for her.” he muttered, more to himself.

“How romantic.” Charlie smiled, patting Henry on the shoulder before going back upstairs, and finding Simon standing in his old bedroom doorway, smirking, he'd heard it all. “How, did you get her to go to the beach, Si?”

“I called Mary, to walk her there, get her out of the house, since she's been really depressed about the divorce.” Simon replied. “Then, I called Mary and faked an emergency, and she left, and like I knew, y/n stayed long enough after, for our dear brother, Henry, to meet her, after you brought up how nice a night it would be for a walk on the beach.” He grinned.

The two brothers had conspired to get You and Henry together, they'd conspired a long time over it, all three of them. They knew how much Henry and You loved each other, and never understood why things always seemed to keep you two apart; school, work, a marriage and whatever force it was. But, the three of them, would get the two of you together, by the time, Henry returned to London.

Saturday came, and Henry was racked with anxiety and worry about it. He went over the list of what he wanted to buy at the shop before he went to your house, rethought about the type of wine he should buy, worried that it wouldn't pair with the food, or worse, you wouldn't like it. Niki stood in the kitchen, watching Henry mumbled the words on the shopping list, for the twelfth time.

“Hank.” Niki said, his military commander voice coming out. “For fuck sake, man.”

“What, Niki?” Henry snapped, flustered.

“Come on, and grow that set of balls, you fucking have!” Niki barked back, like he was talking to some grunt on base. “You and that girl have been smitten, and goggling, at each other since you met. How the fuck, does me, Charlie, Simon, even Piers, mom, dad, her parents, and everyone on this island know it, and not the two of you?”

“She likes me?” Henry's heart leaped.

“Like you?” Niki grabbed Henry by the shoulders and gave him a good shake. “Y/n fucking loves you, you oaf! She married another man, while still holding on to her love for you. It's been how long, since the two of you have seen each other? And her love is still there. You've dated several women, got engaged once, but, your heart didn't love them. It was y/n, that you love. That's why those relationships never worked out, for either of you. I'm tried of us pussy footing around it.”

“She's in love with me.” It slowly all came to Henry now. “Fuck, I love her, Nik.” he grinned like a fool.

“Yeah, I know.” Niki quipped at him, relieved, finally, to see it on Henry's face. “But, don't be an idiot, and storm the castle, and scare her away. It's been twenty years of holding on to the love, probably feeling no hope of it happening. Not to mention, she's freshly divorced. Be the gentleman and good man you are, Henry. That's who she loves, you. Not your fame or money. She loves the real you.”

Henry shook his head. “No, if she can be so patient, I can as well. It's just dinner, after all.”

“A dinner you're fretting over, like a man going over his fucking vows.” Niki laughed at him.

“Shut the fuck up, Nik.” Henry laughed, pulling away from him. “I have to go shopping.” he said, picking up his coat and heading out.

“Don't fuck this up, Henry.” Nik said, to himself. “She's a good woman.”

You were running around your house like a terror from hell. You'd been cleaning your house, top to bottom, ever since you agreed to have Henry over to dinner. You'd changed outfits twice, and was thinking of a third time; were you too casual or too formal? Fuck, you never fretted this much when you and James were dating, course then, the two of you never really went on dates. So, finally you decided on something that said, I made an effort, but, I'm still bring myself. Nearly jumping out of your skin, when your doorbell finally rang.

“Fuck, have mercy.” You mumbled to yourself, hurrying to the door, paused a moment, then pulled it open, greeted by, a thankfully similarly dressed, Henry, who clutched a paper bag of groceries in one arm and a boquet of lavender and red roses in the other, that made you, instantly smile brighter. You took the roses from him, to release his arms of some of the burden, and smelled them, closing your eyes happily, no one ever bought you flowers before.

“You like them?” he asked, stepping into your entryway.

“I love them, Henry. Thank you.” You told him, stepping out of his way. “The kitchen is this way.” You led him down the hall into the nice and modern kitchen.

“What a kitchen.” Henry commented, surprised, as he set the groceries on the island. “You even have a pot filler by your stove.”

“Yes, James updated it in a frenzy after, God knows what. But, by the time it was finished, he lost interest.” You confessed, looking around it.

“Do you use it?” He asked, pulling things out of the bag.

“Sometimes.” You told him, watching the things he pulled out. “My mother usually the most, when she visits.” You stood on tip-toe to see what else he had, curious to what in the world he was going to make. “What are you feeding me, Henry?” You asked, turning and going down the hall into a closet and taking down at vase from its top shelf, so you could put the flowers in water.

“Thai Chicken and Coconut curry.” He told you, carefully folding the bag and setting it out of his way. “I recall you love Curry.” He said, watching you fill the vase.

“I do, a great deal.” You nodded, looking at him over your shoulder.

“Pans are there.” You pointed to the cabinet above the stove, any utenils you need are in the drawers on either side of the stove, and if you find yourself needing more spices, the pantry is the glass door with the word pantry on it.” You quipped.

“Excellent.” He said, pulling out a skillet from the cabinet above the stove, then turned to the island, biting his lip over all the food laid out over half of it, but grabbed the bottle of red wine, he'd bought two bottles, just in case, and showed it to you with a smile, suggestive.

You smiled back, reaching under the end of the island you were standing at and pulling out two wine glasses, from the hanging rack there. “The opener is below your left hand.” You told him, rounding the island to him with the glasses.

Henry took the bottle opener out of the drawer, and popped the bottle open. “I hope you like red wine, it pairs best with the curry I'm making.” he told you, pouring your glass, then his own.

“I love wine, in general.” You told him, taking a sip and savoring it.

“I'm glad.” He smiled happily at you, took a sip of his own glass and went to the counter behind him to grab a knife to cut up the chicken and other components of the dish, before getting it to simmer with the coconut milk. He tilted his head to you, one hand on your wine and your other holding a red pen, as you graded the big stack of tests in front of you.

“Are the tests still as silly as they were, when we attended?” He asked, coming to stand next to you, to watch.

“No, they're actually quite good.” You told him, scanning the test on top one more time, before setting it in the stack of papers you'd already done. “It's the answers that seem rather silly, nowadays.” You smiled at him. “The curry smells incredible.” You complimented him, your cheeks warming.

“Well, I hope so.” Henry grinned back, a blush on his own face. “Even though, this is the first time, I've made it.” He frowned back at the skillet, worried he'd mess it up or you wouldn't like it.

“I'm sure it will be excellent, Henry.” You told him, resting your hand on his arm. “How can something smell that good, and not be that good.” You inquired, following his gaze back to the stove.

“We shall find out.” He said, going to stir it.

You'd graded a good amount of your papers, by the time Henry had dinner ready, twenty-minutes later. You put them aside and put your full attention onto him as he plated it, biting the side of your lip as your heart skipped, he was gorgeous. The tip of his tongue poked out a tiny bit between his full lips, as he focused, chuckling softly, when he cursed, spilling a little bit on the counter. You got up, grabbing the dish towel by the sink, and leaned in to wipe it up, Henry looked up at you as you did, both of your faces an inch apart.

“I'm sorry.” He whispered, but not for the spill.

“It's alright.” You whispered back, understanding his meaning.

He put the pan down and cupped your cheek, then kissed you, with a pent up passion. You met his passion, tossing the cloth in your hand carefully onto the counter, and wrapped your arms around his neck, letting him pick you up and set you on the counter by the sink. Your kisses grew heated, and sloppy at moments, but, both of you were panting with satisfaction of finally being able to let it all loose.

“I'm sorry.” Henry said again, his hands resting on your hips. “I shouldn't have kissed you, I don't want you thinking I'm trying to rush anything.”

“I don't think that.” You told him, pressing your palms to his neck with your thumbs caressing his jawline. “I'm glad, I finally got to fucking kiss you, the way I've wanted too, for so long.” You confessed, licking your kiss swollen lips.

“As am I.” Henry smiled happily, kissing your lips again, ever so softly.

“We should eat, before it goes cold.” You told him against his lips. “You worked too hard, to let that happen.”

Still smiling, Henry moved away from you, and you hopped off the counter. Grabbing your plates, and refilled wine glasses, you both retired to your dining room, sitting across from each other and dug into the food Henry made.

“Oh god, Henry.” You moaned, eyes closing at the amazing taste of the curry.

“You like it?” He asked, his fork between his mouth and plate, waiting for you to take the first bite.

“It's super good.” You told him, going in for more. “You've out done yourself, Mr. Cavill.” You complimented him. “You are, indeed, a good cook.”

“Why, thank you, love.” He beamed, finally taking his bite, and finding you quite right about it. “So, how long have you been teaching at the school?” he asked, between bites.

“Three years.” You answered. “How long are you staying in Jersey?” You finally dared to ask him.

“I'm staying for a month or two.” He replied, a bit reluctant. “My agent's been contacted with a few roles that I'm interested in, and one that's been asked of me.”

“Oh?” You asked, genuinely interested.

“Yeah, one is Justice League, obviously Superman.” Henry easily spoke with you. “and,” He grinned, at the thought of the role, he hadn't told anyone yet. “One with Tom Cruise, for a new Mission Impossible movie.”

“That is so cool.” You grinned, excited for him. “Do you know what role?”

Henry sighed, still smiling. “Yes, the character is an American, Secret Operative, named Walker.” He explained, loving the look of genuine excitement and interest, not like most of the other women he's been with. Niki was right, you really loved him.

“Good guy or bad guy?” You asked, finishing the last bit of your food and taking up your wine glass.

“I'm not sure yet.” Henry told you. “I'd be excited if he was a bad guy, it's something different than what I've been playing the last little bit. And,” he leaned across the table to you, he was so excited, it infected you. “I get to grow a mustache.”

You giggled, at his excitement over it. “You must be thrilled, I'm sure you'll do an absolutely amazing job, whether Walker is good or bad.” You assured him, you were already proud of him for it.

“Why don't you come with me?” He asked, spontaneously, catching you off guard.

“What?” You smiled, flustered.

“We'll be filming in the summer, so you won't have to worry about school.” He reasoned with you.

“You want me to come with you, to wherever it is you'll be filming, during the summer?” You asked him, your stomach flipped with a flush of maybe it was too soon, and wanting to say yes, all at the same time.

“Yes.” Henry said softly, then blinked, his eyes going to his empty plate. “Fuck, I'm sorry, that was stupid. We've only just seen each other after years, and here I am asking you to come away with me. Nik told me, not to storm the castle.”

Your head dropped back as you roared with laughter, catching Henry off-guard this time. “Niki wouldn't go to the store, without a layout of the store's aisles, names of everyone that worked there, what number of the aisle that a specific item he needed was on, what shelf and where on said shelf, Henry, and you fucking know that.” You laughed, you'd grown up with the five Cavill brothers, and knew everyone of them, well.

Henry bust out laughing with you, knowing you were right. “But, still...” He closed his mouth, then opened it for a moment, before closing it again.

“You can tell me.” You whispered to him, reaching across the table and resting your hand on his. “Anything, you always have.”

“I don't want to rush, but I love you,” He told you, turning his hand to take a hold of yours. “and have since I was a nine.” He finally confessed. “Fuck, I'd take you away right now, if I could...”

“I'd go with you.” You interrupted him, gulping.

Henry looked up at you, his cheek twitching as a smile tried to pull across his lips. “Would you?” He whispered, quietly.

You squeezed Henry's hand has hard as you could, wanting the point to be made physically, emotionally and verbally. “Yes, all you need is to ask me, Henry.” You whispered back to him in the same tone.

“Would you go with me, when I film the movie, this summer, y/n?” He asked, in a steady conviction, dripping with just as much emotion, as he squeezed your hand, gently back.

“Yes.” You answered, in a normal and strong voice.

“Would you do something else, for me?” He asked, meeting your eyes.

“What?” You grinned.

“Come back to my parents with me,” he asked you. “I'll bring you home, I did bring my car.” He added. “I want my brothers to finally see us, and get the fuck off my back.” He laughed. “It seems they've been conspiring for a long time to get us together.”

“I know.” You grinned, slyly.

“What?” Henry asked, surprised, sitting up. “How?”

“Your brother married my best friend.” You told him, thinking of Mary. “She couldn't keep a secret, even if you didn't tell her one.” You chuckled, you loved her, but it was true. “She told me, after overhearing Simon and Charlie, talking about how to get us into the same place, once they knew you were coming home.” You explained, utterly amused.

“And, you didn't tell me until now?” He marveled at you.

“Unlike, my dear Mary, Henry.” You giggled, taking the last of your wine. “I can keep a secret. I mean, I kept the one about loving you, for twenty years.”

“But, everyone knew you had it.” Henry protested.

“Everyone, but you, who I had been hiding it from.” You countered, winking at him.

“Well, you've got me there.” Henry agreed, raising the last sip of his wine to you, in salute, then downed it.

“So, shall we go break the news?” You asked, pushing your seat back and getting up.

“We shall.” He grinned, getting up with you. “And, thinking about it.” He added, noticing the empty bottle of wine and the second one half full. “I think we should walk, we've had a few and it's not that long a walk.”

“Very smart.” You agreed, going down the hall to retrieve your coat. “Maybe, stop by the beach.” You suggested to him, holding out his coat to him as you both stood impossibly close.

“How many hours I've spent on that beach, either thinking about you, or watching you.” He admitted, taking his coat. “To finally step onto it with you.” Henry leaned down and kissed you again.

“You are an incredible person, and soul, Henry.” You told him, pressing your forehead to his. “It's one of the endless things, I love about you.” You brushed your hand through his hair, loving how soft it is, and his curls. “I love you.”

You and Henry entered his parents' house, and found his family just finishing their own dinner. All of them turned in their seats as you stopped in front of them, eyes on the pair of you, then dropping to your linked hands.

“Oh my god, Henry!” His mother, Marianne cried, getting out of her seat. “It's about time you told y/n the truth.” she grinned, ear to ear, and making both you and Henry blush. “Welcome into the family, y/n. Not that I never considered you a daughter to start with.”

“Mother.” Henry blushed, licking his lips and looking away.

“Christ, Henry.” His father chuckled, grinning himself. “Your Mother's planned your and y/n's wedding since you were ten.”

“Holy Christ!” Simon howled, holding his sides.

“A family conspiracy, I see.” You smiled, taking it in stride, and humor.

“So, has your mother, y/n.” Marianne told you, surprisingly.

“What?” You croaked, turning almost as red as Henry, in an instant, and looked up at him. “It's a wonder, how it is, we didn't end up in an arranged marriage.” You said, laughing harder, as Henry practically melted from the hot blush he had going on.

“We did think about it, but your fathers said no.” Marianne farther confessed.

“Mother.” Henry gasped, eyes wide as an owls, but she just shrugged at him.

“We always thought you two were so good for each other...”

“Don't use the soul mate word again, mum.” Niki said, insanely amused by the goings on.

“Again?” Henry squeaked out.

“This has been one, well thought out plan.” You admitted, giving them all props for it. “I commend, and thank you for it.” You looked at Henry, who looked at you, his face relaxing and his color returning. “If you all weren't so insist about it, I don't know if we would have done it ourselves.” You professed, blinking softly at him.

Henry nodded, sharing your sentiment and feelings. “I agree.” he whispered, kissing you, right there, in front of his entire family, Kal included, as Marianne clapped wildly and his brothers laughing their heads off.

“Are you two staying for dessert?” Marianne asked, when the kiss broke.

“Most likely, have each other for dessert, mum.” Piers commented, winking at Henry and you.

“Piers!” Marianne snapped, softly at her youngest, who just shrugged his shoulders and hands at her, unabashed.

“I can go for both.” You whispered in Henry's ear.

“I heard that!” Charlie chimed in.

“Oh, shut it!” Henry barked at him, playfully. “You all got what you want, and we got what we want.” he said, putting his arm around you. “So, what's for dessert?” he asked, as a place for you two was made.

When dessert was finished, You and Henry walked down to the beach, hand and hand, happy and full. You took your shoes off, walking in the wet sand as the soft waves washed over your ankles. Henry seemed content, but also thoughtful.

“What's on your mind, Henry?” You asked, hugging his arm and pulling him closer to you.

“Thinking about how I already miss you.” He told you the truth. “Granted, I won't be leaving until filming for the movie starts, and you'll be coming with me...” he sighed.

“You're thinking about after, when school here starts again.” You nodded, looking out over the water.

“I'll be back in London, and you'll be here.” He watched the water with you. “I know, it's not too far to travel, but it seems almost farther than the time it took us, to get where we are, here and now.”

“Well, what if I told you,” You started, pulling him to a stop. “that perhaps we wouldn't have to be so far apart.” You asked, looking up a him, still holding his hand as your other hand rested on his side.

“What are you talking about?” Henry frowned, shaking his head, confused.

“At the start of this school year, I was given an offer,” You explained to him. “to teach, at a school in London, next school year.” You told him, with the hint of a smile, hoping it was alright with him.

Henry's eyes grew. “Really?” He asked, feeling a hope.

“Yes,” You nodded, smiling up at him, seeing the spark in his eyes. “I was given recommendation from our school.” You told him, grinning.

“That's incredible!” Henry exclaimed, picking you up and kissing you. “Do you have a place?” he asked, still holding you, wet and sandy feet dangling.

“The school offered me a place until I found something.” You told him, feeling the pounding of his heart against yours.

“Fuck that.” Henry snapped, shaking his head. “Stay with me.” he told you, adamant. “I love you! Christ, I think Kal loves you more than I do, he'd love it just as much.” he searched your eyes. “Please.” he begged you, setting you down.

“I am yours, Henry.” You told him, dearly. “I want to go where you are, where ever you are.”

“And, You will.” He told you, grinning so hard his face hurt.

“Oh, don't do that.” You whimpered, seeing tears in his eyes, choking you up. “You know, what happens to me when you cry.” You told him, wiping at them as they slipped down his face, your own falling with them.

“I'm so happy to be home.” He sniffed, holding your face in his hands. “Home.” he empathized, pressing his forehead to yours.

[maswartz]

How the MCU can do the Fantastic Four and the X-Men

The Fantastic Four

This is my idea for how Marvel can do a Fantastic Four movie series if they ever get the rights back from FOX. And yes I know a lot of people are in love with the whole “set in the 60s” idea but I’m not.

Reed Richards- A young entrepreneur who made a fortune on multiple patents allowing him to indulge in many scientific curiosities. He holds degrees in multiple fields of science. The press has dubbed him Mr. Fantastic. (think Elon Musk meets Bill Gates meets Steve Jobs) After the accident he gains the ability to stretch his body to incredible lengths Susan Richards- An expert computer programmer and hacker she’s able to sneak into any network. Her programming software is used in all of the FF’s hardware. The accident gave her the power to create invisible force fields as well as cloak herself and others from sight. She calls herself the Invisible Woman as a result. Johnny Storm- A stuntman and experienced pyrotechnics expert he lives to chase the thrill. When his sister invited him on the trip he leaped at the chance. The accident gave him the ability to create intense heat and cover himself in flames. He declared that he was the Human Torch from now on. Ben Grimm- A test pilot who went to college with Reed and has kept in touch ever since. He volunteered to pilot the test flight but suggested that Reed either address the shielding or postpone until the storm passed. The accident mutated him into a rock covered Thing giving him increased stamina and strength. Before battle he recites the motto of the Yancy Street Gang “It’s Clobbering Time!”

Marvel’s Fantastic Four

Reed Richards creates a spaceship in the hopes of making spaceflight available to the public however during the test flight a cosmic storm strikes the earth. The cosmic radiation mutates Reed, his wife Susan, her brother Johnny, and the pilot Ben giving them strange powers. However they were not the only ones effected. Bolts of cosmic power strike all across the world (setting up future heroes and villains). One such bolt strikes a mountain sending cosmic radiation throughout it. A man named Harvey Elder was mining in the mountain when the bolt hit causing a cave in. However the energy mutated him and the life within the soil around him. He became the Mole Man and commanded an army of mutated worms, insects, and moles to do his evil bidding. Fighting him was the first test of the Fantastic Four!

Marvel’s Fantastic Four: The U-Foes

About a year after the cosmic storm hit Earth, Simon Ultrecht head of U-Forces a rival of Reed’s is contacted by a mysterious benefactor who managed to obtain a sample of the cosmic energy. Driven by greed Simon exposed himself and three others creating the U-Foes. The Fantastic Four must prevent these superpowered threats from wrecking havoc.

Marvel’s Fantastic Four: Doom

Little did the Fantastic Four know that the mysterious benefactor was watching them, studying them, analyzing their strengths and weaknesses until he had the knowledge he needed to strike. Victor Von Doom has returned to get his long awaited revenge against Reed Richards!

Marvel’s Fantastic Four: Galactus

Months after the battle against Doom a strange object enters Earth’s atmosphere, a silver man on a silver board. The Silver Surfer declares that Galactus is coming and that none can stop him from consuming the world. It’s up to the Fantastic Four to find a way to stop the Devourer of Worlds from destroying the Earth.

The X-Men

The basic premise is that in the MCU mutants only began to emerge in the last 20 years or so, two groups have formed to protect mutants though their methods vary greatly. The X-men protect humanity and mutantkind alike from themselves and each other while the Brotherhood of Mutants attacks humanity for their crimes against mutants. Each group has valid points but their conflicting goals leads to conflict.

The Uncanny X-Men

An international conference on Mutants is held that the Brotherhood seeks to disrupt while the X-men seek to protect it. As a result mutants are revealed to the world at large

X-men vs Brotherhood of Mutants

Charles Xavier- Professor X - Psychic founder of the X-men, dreams of a world where humanity and mutantkind exist as one. Due to an accident he lost the use of his legs

Max Eisenhardt- Magneto - Master of magnetism, survivor of the holocaust he vows mutantkind will not suffer the same fate.

Former friends and allies, the falling out between the two lead to the formation of the separate groups

Scott Summers- Cyclops - Due to a childhood injury he is unable to turn his eye beams off, only a special visor can block their power.

Gunther Bain- Unus the Untouchable - A former wrestler he discovered his ability to create force fields during a match costing him his career. His shields are one of the few things that can block Cyclops’s beams

Hank McCoy- Beast - Born with enhanced physical strength Hank is a genius as well, however he has begun to mutate further growing blue fur and claws.

Mortimer Toynbee- Toad - A street urchin most of his life, he has enhanced agility and a prehensile tongue as well as the ability to cling to walls.

Warren Worthington III- Angel - A wealthy playboy he hid his wings for most of his life, but with the X-men he can soar free.

Irene Adler- Destiny-  Though she is blind she has the ability to see the future, including any possible moves her enemies make.

Bobby Drake- Iceman - A young prankster who can create and manipulate ice and frost.

St. John Allerdyce- Pyro - A man who wants to see the world burn with the power to manipulate flame and fire

Jean Grey- Marvel Girl - Able to read minds and move objects with telekinesis Jean is the newest member of the X-men but there may be more to her powers than she realizes.

Jason Wyngarde-Mastermind - A man able to reach into the minds of others and create realistic illusions of whatever he finds within their memories.

X-Men 2: Night of the Sentinels

After Mutants were revealed to the world the Sentinel project was begun in secret to combat the more violent mutants. However the project was hijacked by a bigoted politician to use against all mutants, the X-men and the Brotherhood must join forces to protect them all. A post credit scene reveals that the school has begun to admit new students.

X-men 3: Mutant Island

Professor X detects a powerful mutant on a remote island, however once the team arrives they discover the island itself is the mutant. Only Cyclops manages to return home and warns the Professor. Using his powers Professor X summons aid from around the world.

[kneesheee]

a surprising adoption

             DAY THREE: OMEGAVERSE | [ACCIDENTAL BABY ACQUISTION]

It all started with Hermes.

Of course, it did.

He was the god of thievery.

He was also considered the god of speed.

When his nephew, Kyle, started hanging around those mortal speedsters. He was intrigued. Diana, Donna, and Cassie tended to keep him away from their mortal friends.

He never met anyone that was as fast as he was. Even Apollo didn’t count since he tended to beat his friend on occasions.

Hermes was only the god of speed. These speedsters embodied speed. With a mischievous smile on his face, Hermes set off to pull of his greatest heist yet.

The person up next was Apollo and Hephaestus. They each took one looked at the redheaded archer that Jason was friends with, and both went: “Adoption time.”

It was awkward for both when they appeared outside of Roy’s workshop. They stared blankly at each other before both dived for the door. The two wrestled with Apollo coming out of top when Roy half asleep and more than a little paranoid had one of his exploding arrows pointed at their faces.

The stance. The detailing of the weaponry. The fierce look in his eyes. The half brothers shared a glance before nodding their heads.

With a slow smirk dancing on their faces, they reached for the mortal and disappeared from the earthly plane.

The next person to go was the man of willpower himself.

Ares had taken one look at Hal and just knew.

He kneeled with broken fists and knees. A part still untamed. He denied his truth self because he couldn’t stand to cause his friends pain. Ares decided to help him. This little mortal. This little child.

He understood where he was coming. Being the personification of war itself. He knew how hard it was to push down the urges. Maybe that’s why he always admired the little solider. From the second he saw him next Kyle.

It wasn’t his so-called willpower to overcome fear. It was his willpower to be better. He could see it in his eyes the need to cause destruction… the need to let all his grief and anger out being held back by a stubborn mindset and a sense of duty.

Ares knew rage. And he knew how deadly it could be when not properly managed. It had taken Kyle a while to learn how to use a weapon filled with an emotion he rarely gets to see.

The man of willpower was staring into nothing when Ares came for him. He could feel how the man reacted. The need to fight was strong.

He turned towards the god slowly with his ring beginning to glow. Ares smiled at him with all teeth before reaching out and taking him away.

After all, Ares wondered the same thing every day.

When will my war be done?

Kyle had just made it back to Earth when the Justice League called for a meeting. He was surprised to see Jason there. He knew that Jason was still considered public enemy number one. Yet, the other demigod had a blanket wrapped around him as Diana and Donna comforted him. Green Arrow was sitting beside them with his head in his hands and Dinah rubbing circles into his back.

He wasn’t the only one looking miserable or worried. Jay Garrick, Max Mercury, and Iris West-Allen were all sitting together. The woman was still crying. Not too far away from them Nightwing was sitting stock stilled. The emotions that Kyle was getting from him were filled with worry and confusion and pain. Wonder Girl and Superboy were huddled together around Red Robin as they all looked blankly around the room.

When he and the others stepped into the room, all eyes fluttered towards them. Dread filled Kyle when Diana and Donna’s face pinched. No. The last time the two of them looked so broken and closed to crying was when Jason died. Kyle couldn’t lose anyone else.

Donna walked towards him slowly wrapping him into her arms, “Oh Kyle.” He was already shaking his head. No. “Kyle, Hal’s missing.”

Hal? Hal who was basically his mortal dad. Hal who listened to him bitch and complain about his Olympian family and teased him relentlessly about the crush he had on Jason. Hal who was the reason that he was introduced to this group of highly weird people that he loved all the same. Hal who trained with him on using the rings and laughed when he used it the way his family taught him. Hal who told him that no matter what… never suppress his emotions. They are what make him.

Hal?

He could feel John and Guy right behind him. He could sense Jessica and Simon moving closer to their group. “No. No. No,”

Superman stood up from his chair, “And he’s not the only one. Flash, Kid Flash, and Impulse were taken earlier today around 2 o’clock. Witnesses claim that it was streak of silver greenish light that snatched them away. And thanks to the Red Hood and Starfire, we’ve learned that Arsenal has also turned up missing. Taken directly from his workshop. Whoever taken him was good enough to not set off any alarms, but still decided that force entry was the key. We’ve only just realized that Hal was missing due to trying to reach him when witnesses also state that a bright blood red light taken him.”

Kyle could almost throw up. Two of his friends and Hal?

“Does anyone have any leads,” stated Batman as he gazed around the room. Kyle could sense the worry the man held for his children’s emotional state, but he did his best to shove them away. Donna led Kyle over towards Diana and Jason. Cassie huddled closer towards her effectively moving Superboy and Red Robin closer to their pile also.

[Neither Jason nor Kyle would admit how could it always felt to be around other godlings. Especially during times like this.]

The meeting dragged on and on. Jason had long ago zoned out. He was vibrating with worry about Roy. It was enough that only Kori could hold on to him now for comfort. The power of the sun and light burning in his blood making his unnaturally cold skin give almost third-degree burns.

He zoned back in when Donna’s face appeared in his line of sight, “Come back to us, little sun. Diana suggested asking the gods for help. Roy and Hal are close to you and Kyle. Wally and Bart are Cassie and I’s best friends. Maybe they have seen something if not, we could always ask Apollyon what he knows of their future.”

Jason nodded his head slowly. If anything, he was perfectly fine with this plan. His best friend was missing. What he needed right now was a hug from his dad and maybe some of Aunt Demeter’s hot chocolate. Anything to distract him from whatever torture Roy could be going through right now. He chanced a glance at Kyle who was turning a little pale.

Ah, Jason forgot that being the wielder of a literal mood ring and the son of love was bad for Kyle when he was in an unfiltered setting. There were too many emotions for the other demigod right now.

“Let’s get out of here.”

Jason, Donna, and Kyle all stared blankly at the sight of five grown men dressed in onesies. Adult size onesies with typical baby slogans that you’d find in the toddler section of Walmart.

“Dad,” Jason stated. “What’s going on?”

The four gods looked up from arguing over a feeding schedule to stare at them. Hermes was the one to break out into a smile first flying over to the speedsters’ sides. “Look, you guys, it’s a speedy baby! 3 of them!”

The three of them could only stare. The three mortal speedsters looked simultaneously happy and miserable. [Though it leaned more towards happy since Uncle Hermes provided them with an all you can eat buffet.] Roy was bent over Hephaestus’ favorite workbench messing around with Apollo’s third favorite bow. [Only Jason could touch the second, and only Artemis could touch the first.] While the Speedsters may have looked slightly sad, Roy was downright ecstatic.

Hal was the only one to seem at true peace. Him and Ares were doing one of the war god’s meditation techniques. Kyle was sure that Hal’s ring was flickering white.

Hephaestus smiled slightly from where he was holding onto his anvil while Roy rattled on about the quality of Apollo’s bows. Apollo turned to look at the others, “We all had the same idea. A little surprise adoption goes a long way. Meet your cousins and half-brother.”

“Kidnapping,” Donna deadpanned. “You kidnapped them.”

Apollo rose a brow, “By human laws, they are much too old to be kids.”

“But you’re not human,” Kyle questioned. The god of plague turned his gaze onto the White Lantern and Kyle decided to be quiet. This was the same god who threatened to rip his urethra tube out with only a toothpick for not so accidently drawing Jason in nothing but a chlamys.

Donna nodded her head at Kyle’s words, “He’s right. You’re not humans. You’re gods. Deities who have lived for more than millennia. They are so young compared to you all that you really can’t even call them children.”

Hermes clapped his hands excitedly, “Exactly. Besides, your little mortal friends weren’t treating them with the respect they all deserve. So… we’re keeping them. Okay bye.”

The herald of the gods quickly flies away cackling. Jason took one glance at the floor surrounding the kidnapped mortals. There was no one Hermes was going to just let someone steal from him. He was the god of thieves. He did the stealing.

It wasn’t on the floor, but on their clothes instead. A rune that didn’t release any of them unless the god that took them allowed it.

Apollo smiled a little mockingly, “We have a council meeting to get to about the Amazons. Jason? Kyle? We leave them in your care.”

Donna choked on her laughter as she turned to Kyle and Jason, “Congratulations, it’s a boy.”

[cecilspeaks]

159 - Cat Show

Be the annoying goose you want to see in the world. Welcome to Night Vale. 

This day was foretold and now it is here. Some doubted it would come, but the signs were clear. And I could not be more excited! It’s the annual Night Vale cat show. [laughs] I know, I rarely report on this event, but this year, I finally entered my own cat, Khoshekh, into the contest. Many of you remember that I found Khoshekh 7 years ago. He was floating 4 feet off the ground in the men’s restroom here at the radio station, and he’s still in that exact same spot, cute as ever with his furry little white paws! And elegant little black tail, and just the floofiest tentacles you could ever see.

My husband and I adore cats! We’re always ranking them, because love is above all else a competition. So we figured we should put Koshekh out there for an objective ruling on our own beliefs that he is the best cat in the world! It should be an easy win for our little boy, especially with the home field advantage. Koshekh is stuck in a fixed point in space, and the cat show is being held here at the radio station to accommodate his condition. Station Management is a bit unhappy about this, because they’re terribly allergic to cats. All morning, as the cat show organizers and competing cats have arrived, I have felt the sneezes of Station Management from deep below the surface of the Earth where they have burrowed into the warm, molten core of our dying planet.

I sent our new intern Simon Peterson out to pick up some Benadryl for the bosses, and he did, but now he’s having trouble navigating the 16 inch wide rocky tunnel Station Management dug into the break room, and Simon keeps saying he’s claustrophobic and that his greatest fear is to be stuck in a dark place where the long spindly arms touch and prod his feet, but he cannot see them. And even if he could, he would not comprehend them. Ad n the prickly limbs grab at him with increasing desperation and he does not scream, because he knows no one will hear him except the inscrutable.. thing that is now tearing open the skin along the bottom of his feet. And I was like Simon, this office is a no excuses zone, so get in that tunnel and do your job.

More on the cat show soon, but first the news. Strange men arrived in town today. They were wearing suits and carrying briefcases. They drove a black sedan. One of them wore sunglasses. They claimed to be from Washington DC from an agency called the National Transportation Safety Board. They were inquiring about a missing plane. The strange men, one of them had a blister on his upper lip, met with Sheriff Sam, and told them that on June 15, 2012, Delta flight 18713 from Detroit Mistigan to Albany New York disappeared. The NTSB still has not found the MT-90 aircraft. The men told Sheriff Sam that for many years, the agency believed the flight to have gone down in Lake Erie. Sheriff Sam laughed at this silly fake name for a lake and told the men – one of them had a swollen red lump along the cuticle of his right index finger –that they must be remembering some spooky young adult novel, rather than a real life event. The strange men – one of them had an unceasing nose bleed – said it was in fact true. They said that they recently found a report indicating that right before Flight 18713 vanished from radar, it was detected all the way down in the southwest United States, right here in Night Vale. “How is that possible?” the strange men asked our Sheriff. Sheriff Sam stopped laughing and said: “I know the plane. Or rather, I know someone who saw that plane. His name is Doug, Doug Biondi.” The strange men – one of them wore three wedding rings – nodded and said: “Take us to Doug.” Sheriff Sam said: “Doug is in the Night Vale asylum. He is dangerous. He is not allowed visitors. But…” and Sheriff Sam leaned forward, clasping their hands together across the desk and continued in a hush town: “I… could… assist… in an undercover operation. Disguise you all as new inmates, treacherous psychopaths who must be kept in lockdown in the world’s highest security mental hospital. Then, then… you would be able to interview Doug Biondi about what he saw that day in the elementary school gym.” And the strange men – one of them was weeping thick yellow tears – agreed that this was a great idea, and set out with the Sheriff to the asylum, deep within the Scrublands, to begin their covert investigation. I’m sure those strange men from the NTSB will emerge soon with a full report. More on this story as it develops.

But I have to get back – to the Cat shooooow! [excited] Oh ho ho, [gasps] so many cats have arrived! [laughs] Th-there are cages and carriers full of sweet kitties all over the station! Representing all four breeds of cat: long haired, short haired, smushyfaced and miscellaneous. When I was filling out the entry forms for Khoshekh, they asked me this breed, and he’s definitely smushyfaced, but also long haired although he’s short haired along his coddlespine and pincers, soooooo… miscellaneous? I guessed. Also they wanted Khoshekh’s last name, and I have never thought of a last name for our cat. Huh. I told Carlos we should put his last name as Khoshekh’s last name, because Carlos has a much more interesting last name than me. Plus Carlos is pretty well known and very well liked in town. Everybody knows his last name, and I thought that might carry some political weight in the minds of the judges. But Carlos insisted that we use mine, because I found Khoshekh and I adopted him. So there you go, little kitty. You are Khoshekh Gershwin Palmer. A champion name for a champion cat.

Let’s have a look now at the community calendar. This Friday night is the Tour of Lights in Old Town Night Vale. Participants can meet at Galway and 1st at 7 PM, where a tractor pulling a trailer full of hay will drive you around to look at the bright and festive holiday lights adorning the various historic homes. Last year’s favorite, the Victorian mansion owned by Harrison Kip, included a 40-foot tall Santa, his arms outstretched overseeing a vast army of toiling elves, while an old Victrola played “Ave Maria” over crackling speakers and clowns leapt suddenly from the thick shrubs, handing unsuspecting but delighted guests red and blue balloons shaped by long dead family members. Tickets are five dollars and go to support the Bilderberg Group.

Saturday evening is the bi-monthly pub crawl in downtown Night Vale. Every eight weeks or so, every bar in town becomes overrun with 7 inch long bugs that look like… a bit like earwigs but with human faces. All participating bars and pubs are offering two for one specials on well drinks and bottled domestics.

Sunday afternoon, the Tamika Flynn book club will be meeting to discuss their most recent book, the 2018 Husqvarna YTH-24K 14-inch riding mower owner’s manual. This month’s book was chosen by John Peters – you know, the farmer? They’ll be discussing the themes, symbolism and subtext of this seminal work of contemporary technical literature. The book club is open to anyone and there will be a potluck benefit.

Monday is running a few minutes late, but wants everyone to know we can go ahead and start without it.

The cat show is finally underway and wow! What a sight! I’ve never actually been to a cat show before today, it is, it’s fascinating! So, the judges take each cat one at a time. They hold up the cat’s tail to examine its posture and form. Then they pry open the cat’s mouth to check its teeth. Then four judges hold each of the cat’s paws and stretch it out into a furry X, as a fifth judge measures the cat’s latitudinal, longitudinal and diagonal lengths. I’m surprised at how gentle these cats are with all this rough handling. Khoshekh – [scoffs] Khoshekh usually tries to bite me or-or sting me when I feed him, and I appreciate that about him. It’s hard to respect a cat that would let any stranger look it directly in the eyes, let alone touch it. People sometimes think cats will behave obediently and chummily, like dogs, but cats are individualistic. They show love, yes, but it is conditional and judgmental. You must give a cat space to learn its environment and develop its own social rules. Plus those pincers really hurt! The cats they’re showing right now are really cute, but it’s [sighs], it’s hard to respect them, like the way they let these judges just treat them like slabs of meat. [shouts angrily] Stand up for yourselves, you glorified sock puppets!

Oh, I’m getting some nasty looks from the judges and other contestants. Good, good. (-) [0:12:26] is important in contact sports. Let them know who’s the front runner.

Amber Akini and her husband Wilson Levy are showing their cat now, a tiny fist-sized orange and white shorthair named Berthold. Berthold might be my second favorite cat, behind Khoshekh of course, because he’s a - oh, oh what to call that kind of cat with extra appendages the poly.. polydactyl, polydactyl, that’s it. Anyway, Berthold is a polydactyl cat. He has eight legs and a mesmerizing array of shiny black eyes covering his cute little face. I’m not so sure Berthold has much of a chance of winning, though. Because when the judges tried to check his teeth, he skittered up the wall and won’t come back from the web he built up there. Ah, well now Susan Willman is showing her cat. He’s a scraggy, but otherwise basic tabby with dirty teeth like Spanish rice and the sunken posture of a playground swing. Oh I didn’t catch his name, although it sounded like she called Dumpster. [chuckles] [low voice] Not a chance, loser.

OK, oh wait. The judges are all wide-eyed and cooing over Dumpster, like he’s a rare bejeweled artefact. Wait, they’re nodding to each other as if they’re impressed. I don’t get this! He’s a trash cat. That’s why she named him Dumpster of, knowing Susan, maybe that’s a family name. Ooh ho-ho! Oh, I’m getting a shush sign from the judges, and Susan is glaring at me. [chuckles] I had no idea how political this cat show would be. What a racket.

Let’s have a look now at traffic. There’s a slowdown on westbound lanes of Route 800 near Exit 19. There is no construction or accident. Highway patrol said that everyone on that side of the road simply started thinking about Urinus and giggling. Every single driver, simultaneously, remembered how the name of that planet always made them laugh in school. Scientists want to study Urinus. They thought it wants really probe the dense noxious clouds covering the rocky surface of Urinus. They considered in unison, their ruddy cheeks quaking above sore jaws and below tear-filled crackling eyes: scientists think the pressure inside Urinus is so great that here may be diamonds inside Urinus. The drivers all howled, the audible din enough to slow even the eastbound lanes, who were trying to think of a single funny thing about Saturn, but could not. I’m not sure I get why any of that is funny. But expect westbound delays of 20 minutes or take an alternative route.

It’s the big moment, listeners. The judges are visiting Khoshekh right now in the men’s restroom. I tried to tell them to use hazmat gloves, but they sneered and said: “We know how to handle cats, sir.” OK, they are professional arbiters of all things feline, so I believe them. They’re holding up Khoshekh’s tails right now, examining his nacreous scales. They brought in two other judges to try to hold Khoshekh’s tentacles down because, well he keeps trying to grab at the main judge’s face as the judge attempts to examine Khoshekh’s teeth. Oh, I wonder if they’ll deduct points for Khoshekh having more teeth than a normal cat. I mean he has five rows of them. OH, oh! Oh no. Ohhh, the judges are not controlling this situation well at all, Khoshekh has wrapped up all of the jduges in his many spiraling suctioned arms. They’re struggling to break free, but those tentacles secrete a sedative oil and the judges are wobbling.. They’re passing out, yup, not good. Every single judge is unconscious, and now Khoshekh is wildly flapping his wings and, while I cannot hear it I can tell, he is emitting a shriek that only other cats can hear. He does this when he’s upset. OH, there’s Berthold coming down from the safe haven of his web. There’s Dumpster, hollow-eyed and purring, waling toward Khoshekh. And all the other cats are coming too. Their mouths agape, emitting I m sure the the same ultrasonic tone, a harmon of protest, of uprising, of bloodthirst. They’re gathering now in the men’s room, eyes glowing, all slack-jawed and silent screaming at the sky. On yeah, the other pet owners are sobbing and they’re running for the exist, but they know they cannot leave. They would not leave even if they could. It is silent now in the station safe for the panting exhaustion of frightened human owners, and the strained wheezing breaths of unconscious cat show judges. I think Carlos and I have a great shot at winning this thing, listeners. an announcement of a champion coming soon!

But first, The weather.

[”Weather: “Fuzzy Disco” by Talkie https://talkie.bandcamp.com]

The judges woke up, but they no longer speak in English nor any human language. They are licking themselves and eating moths that they caught by the single swinging light bulb in our radio station’s interrogation room. Their brains are feral and feline now, as they hide under tables and hiss at the other cat owners. I tried to warn them about using hazmat gloves, but they didn’t wanna hear me. [big gasp] Or maybe they did! Perhaps this was their gambit all along, I mean this is after all my first cat show, I don’t wanna pretend like I know how these things go. No winners were announced. The judges joined the high-pitched catervauling of the other cats. And then they all left in a unified clatter, out the men’s room window and into the street. I can see them now, running toward the alley behind the CVS, several other cats joining their ranks, all except - Khoshekh, who cannot leave his spot in the station restroom. Four feet in the air.

I told Khoshekh that he’s a winner in my mind, and I put on my thick rubber gear and gently stroked his smushed little face! [giggles] Right between his middle two eyes! Huh. It’s hard to tell what cats are thinking or feeling, but I think Khoshekh is happy. He’s happy to have such a loving home and two doting dads. But something in his eyes tells me he wanted to run free with his new cat friends. I gave him a catnip plushie though, and he looks content, if a little coked up.

Stay tuned next for a noise you cannot hear, rallying a feral insurrection.

Good night, Night Vale, Good night.

Today’s proverb: Wanna feel old? Don’t worry, you will.

[frmartinshomiliesandreflections]

3rd September >> Fr. Martin’s Gospel Reflections / Homilies on Luke 5:1-11 for Thursday, Twenty Second Week in Ordinary Time: ‘Put out into deep water’.

Thursday, Twenty Second Week in Ordinary Time

Gospel (Europe, Africa, New Zealand, Australia & Canada)

Luke 5:1-11

They left everything and followed him

Jesus was standing one day by the Lake of Gennesaret, with the crowd pressing round him listening to the word of God, when he caught sight of two boats close to the bank. The fishermen had gone out of them and were washing their nets. He got into one of the boats – it was Simon’s – and asked him to put out a little from the shore. Then he sat down and taught the crowds from the boat.

When he had finished speaking he said to Simon, ‘Put out into deep water and pay out your nets for a catch.’ ‘Master,’ Simon replied, ‘we worked hard all night long and caught nothing, but if you say so, I will pay out the nets.’ And when they had done this they netted such a huge number of fish that their nets began to tear, so they signalled to their companions in the other boat to come and help them; when these came, they filled the two boats to sinking point.

When Simon Peter saw this he fell at the knees of Jesus saying, ‘Leave me, Lord; I am a sinful man.’ For he and all his companions were completely overcome by the catch they had made; so also were James and John, sons of Zebedee, who were Simon’s partners. But Jesus said to Simon, ‘Do not be afraid; from now on it is men you will catch.’ Then, bringing their boats back to land, they left everything and followed him.

Gospel (USA)

Luke 5:1-11

They left everything and followed Jesus.

While the crowd was pressing in on Jesus and listening to the word of God, he was standing by the Lake of Gennesaret. He saw two boats there alongside the lake; the fishermen had disembarked and were washing their nets. Getting into one of the boats, the one belonging to Simon, he asked him to put out a short distance from the shore. Then he sat down and taught the crowds from the boat. After he had finished speaking, he said to Simon, “Put out into deep water and lower your nets for a catch.” Simon said in reply, “Master, we have worked hard all night and have caught nothing, but at your command I will lower the nets.” When they had done this, they caught a great number of fish and their nets were tearing. They signaled to their partners in the other boat to come to help them. They came and filled both boats so that the boats were in danger of sinking. When Simon Peter saw this, he fell at the knees of Jesus and said, “Depart from me, Lord, for I am a sinful man.” For astonishment at the catch of fish they had made seized him and all those with him, and likewise James and John, the sons of Zebedee, who were partners of Simon. Jesus said to Simon, “Do not be afraid; from now on you will be catching men.” When they brought their boats to the shore, they left everything and followed him.

Reflections (7)

(i) Thursday, Twenty Second Week in Ordinary Time

In today’s gospel reading, Simon and his companions had worked hard all night fishing but had caught nothing. It is often the way that our hard work can appear to bear very little fruit. Then, Jesus called on them to set out into the deep again, at the least promising time for catching fish. Peter set out in response to Jesus’ word and, amazingly, without doing much work at all, he and his companions caught an astounding catch of fish, so much so that their nets began to tear. Their hard work bore no fruit, and, now, Jesus seems to have gifted them this extraordinary catch. For Simon Peter, this was pure gift, an experience of the Lord’s abundant generosity. Sometimes, the Lord can grace us in similar ways. We work hard and nothing happens, and, then, without our doing much we are abundantly graced. It was this experience of the Lord’s abundant love and generosity that brought home to Simon Peter his own unworthiness to be in the Lord’s presence, ‘Leave me, Lord, for I am a sinful man’. The more we come to experience the Lord’s love for us, the more we realize how small our response to that love is. Peter experienced himself at that moment by the shore of the Sea of Galilee as a loved sinner, and that is what we all are. Pope Francis often speaks of himself as a loved sinner. Yet, in spite of Peter’s sense of his unworthiness before Jesus and his desire to put space between Jesus and himself, Jesus had important work for Peter to do, ‘from now on it is people you will catch’. The Lord wants to work through each of us, imperfect as we are. Even though we may be tainted by sin, the Lord can work powerfully through us, if, like Simon Peter, we set out in response to his word.

And/Or

(ii) Thursday, Twenty Second Week in Ordinary Time

Sometimes we can have a strong sense of our own unworthiness when we are in the presence of the Lord. Several characters in the gospels express this sense of unworthiness before Jesus. John the Baptist expressed his unworthiness to baptize Jesus; the Roman centurion expressed his unworthiness to have Jesus come to his home. In this morning’s gospel reading, Simon Peter expresses his unworthiness just to be in the presence of Jesus. Each of these characters felt that the gap between themselves and Jesus was so great that they simply weren’t worthy to have him draw close to them. Yet, on each occasion, Jesus brushed aside the objection. He insisted on John baptizing him; he insisted on going to the home of the Roman centurion; he insists to Simon Peter that he will not be departing from him. On the contrary, Simon Peter was called by Jesus to share intimately in his work of catching people, gathering people into God’s kingdom. The Lord does not want our sense of unworthiness to become a block between himself and us. Yes, we are unworthy, but the Lord does not ask us to be worthy. Rather, he asks us to be willing, to be responsive to his will for our lives. His purpose for our lives is always so much more generous than the plans or purposes we might have for ourselves. Like Simon Peter in the gospel reading, we can discover that at the very moment when we are most aware of our unworthiness, the Lord is looking ahead to the person we can become and to the role we can play in his work in the world.

 And/Or

(iii) Thursday, Twenty Second Week in Ordinary Time

Today’s gospel reading suggests that Peter heard the call of Jesus in the midst of his daily occupations, as he went about his work as a fisherman. Jesus seems to enter into Peter’s experience of being a fisherman, even offering advice on where to cast the net after Peter and his companions had laboured to no avail all night. Fisherman would not usually appreciate advice on how to fish from the son of a carpenter. Yet, in the gospel reading Peter does what Jesus suggested; he had perhaps come to appreciate that the word of this man from Nazareth had a power and authority that was special. Peter’s saying ‘yes’ to that particular call of Jesus was the prelude to his saying ‘yes’ to the bigger call of Jesus that was to follow, ‘from now on it is people you will catch’. We all hear the Lord’s call in the context of our day to day lives. The Lords calls out to us in and through the ordinary, daily tasks and occupations of our lives. Peter heard the Lord’s call in the context of failure, professional failure in his inability to catch fish, and personal failure as he became aware of himself as a sinner in the Lord’s presence. Peter’s failure was not an obstacle to the Lord calling him. It is the same for each one of us. The Lord does not wait for us to be perfect before calling us to become his follower or to share in his work. He looks to us to have something of the qualities of Peter, the humility to acknowledge our need of the Lord and his forgiveness, and a generous heart and willing spirit.

 And/Or

(iv) Thursday, Twenty Second Week in Ordinary Time

In today’s gospel reading, having experienced the Lord’s generosity in the extra-ordinary catch of fish, Peter becomes suddenly aware of his own weakness and unworthiness. He becomes aware that he does not deserve such generosity from Jesus. He went on to make the discovery that the Lord loved him and have a generous purpose for his life in spite of his weakness and unworthiness. From now on he would gather people into the nets of God’s kingdom. The Lord’s generosity with us is not dependant on our worthiness. The Lord does not wait for us to be worthy to bestow his graces on us or to call us to a share in his life-giving work in the world. Indeed, it is the insight into our unworthiness which creates an opening for the Lord to work through us. The Lord cannot really engage us in his service if we think of ourselves as complete. As Paul says in the first reading this morning, ‘if any one of you thinks of himself as wise, in the ordinary sense of the word, then he must learn to be a fool before he really can be wise’.

 And/Or

(v) Thursday, Twenty Second Week in Ordinary Time

It is said of Peter and his companions in today’s gospel reading that ‘they were completely overcome by the catch they had made’. They had worked hard all night long and caught nothing; then with very little effort at all, in response to the Lord’s word, they caught a huge number of fish. When we are unexpectedly graced, we too can be overcome. It can happen in life that, in the midst of our toil and struggles which can take so much out of us and that seem to bear very little fruit, we are suddenly greatly blessed and graced. Some gift comes our way when we are least expecting it, when we are at our lowest. Out of nowhere, a light shines in the darkness. Like Peter in the gospel we are touched by the Lord’s presence and we feel overcome. Peter was overcome by a sense of his own unworthiness, a sense of himself as a sinner, and he wanted to put space between the Lord and himself. However, Jesus would have none of it. The Lord comes to us as we are; he does not ask us to reach a certain standard first. He graces us in our weakness. In doing so, he also calls us, as he called Peter, to share in his work in the world.

 And/Or

(vi) Thursday, Twenty Second Week in Ordinary Time

Most of us will have tasted the experience of failure in one shape or form. We may have failed to live up to the values and the goals that we had set ourselves; some enterprise or some initiative that we had invested in may have come to nothing; some relationship that was important to us may have slipped away from us. All such experiences can leave us feeling disheartened. Such an experience of failure is to be found in this morning’s gospel reading. We can hear the note of failure in the words of Peter to Jesus, ‘we worked hard all night long and caught nothing’, and in his later words to Jesus, ‘leave me, Lord; I am a sinful man’. Yet, the gospel reading proclaims loudly that failure does not need to have the last word, because the Lord is stronger than our failures and can work powerfully through them. The Lord transformed the fruitless night’s labour of the disciples into an abundant catch of fish, and he insisted that the sinful Peter would share in his own work of drawing people into the nets of God’s kingdom. The Lord is constantly at work in all kinds of seemingly unpromising situations, drawing new life out of loss and failure. Yet, for this to happen, the Lord needs us not to give in to discouragement. He needs us to keeping putting out into deep water in response to his faithful word.

 And/Or

(vii) Thursday, Twenty Second Week in Ordinary Time

The words of Simon Peter in today’s gospel reading, ‘We worked hard all night long and caught nothing’, would find an echo in many people’s hearts. We can all have the experience of investing a lot of time and energy in something or someone and discovering that there can can be very little to show for all our investment. We live in a very result orientated world. Targets and outcomes are all important and if they are not reached then we can be judged a failure by others. The gospel reading today suggests that the Lord does not relate to us on that basis. The Lord spoke a word into Simon Peter’s situation of failure, ‘Put out into deep water and pay out your nets for a catch’. The Lord saw life in abundance in the deep where Simon and others had only experienced absence. When Simon and his companions responded to the Lord’s word, the night of failure gave way to the day of abundance. The Lord’s way of seeing is always more hopeful than ours. The Lord’s word is always directing us to the presence of new life in places we have come to experience as having little to offer. After the abundant catch of fish, Simon Peter came to see himself as having little to offer, ‘Leave me, Lord; I am a sinful man’. Yet, Jesus saw him with the same hopeful eyes as he had seen the Sea of Galilee, ‘Do not be afraid, from now on it is people you will catch’. The Lord invites us to see as he sees, to see our situation, to see ourselves and others with his hopeful, expectant and generous eyes.

Fr. Martin Hogan.