my name is Harper, i'm 24 and my pronouns are she/her. i love writing and this blog is basically my creative outlet for that! a masterlist of all my work can be found here
i’m primarily a Call of Duty blog, but i also write for The Pitt, Sons of Anarchy and more in the future. a full list of who i’m currently accepting requests for & my rules can be found here. i keep it regularly updated and requests are pretty much always open.
my writing will mostly consist of f!reader and gender neutral!reader. i write a mixture of genres including fluff, angst and smut. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!! my blog contains 18+ content.
Hey, just wanted to ask if you write for ghoap too if asked, since I saw you've written some yourself before?
hi anon!! yes i do write for ghoap and am open to requests for them :))
probably should have added this into my list and i will go back and edit it but i will write for a lot of different ships like basically any of 141 shipped with each other <3
saw the mw4 trailer and it got me thinking about being the partner John Price left behind…
content: angst, rogue Price, military inaccuracies oops
“I told you, Simon,” you repeat for what feels like the hundredth time today, your voice weary, “I don’t know where John is.”
Simon watches you from across the table. The interrogation table. You can hardly believe you’re here, being treated like some war criminal all because your husband abandoned you for revenge. They keep telling you you’re not in trouble and that you’ll only be here for a few hours, but you’re losing hope. Especially when Simon looks at you like that.
“I don’t believe you,” he states flatly, his fingers drumming against the table. He’s desperate. “Price must have told you something. Anything. We just need a lead, love.” A lead, like it’s that simple.
You shake your head, looking up at the ceiling. “He’d never put me in danger like that,” you whisper, feeling the emotion build up inside you. “You know he wouldn’t. I know he’s fucked up, but you and I both know he’s doing this for the right reasons.” You level your gaze with Simon, your eyes raw and honest. “Let me go home. Please. This hasn’t been easy for me, or the family.”
You see a tiny flicker in his eyes, sympathy maybe. Perhaps guilt, even. He leans back with a sigh, slowly nodding before getting to his feet. “I’ll drive you back,” he says, resting his hand on your lower back as he guides you out of the room.
You say goodbye on your doorstep, with a hug and a promise to phone him if you hear anything from your husband. Then you’re alone in the house you that, up until a few days ago, you shared with John.
It feels too quiet, too empty without him. The smell of him - the combination of bourbon, cigars and gun smoke - is already fading away. You do everything you would do on a normal day, but the absence of John feels like a physical in your chest. Nothing about this is normal.
By the time evening rolls around, you double check that the front door is locked before closing all the curtains in the house. You make sure that the whole house is secure and safe, even though you can see the unmarked car parked across the street. Watching you and your house for any sign of John.
With a sigh, you retreat to your bedroom. The bed feels too big without John sharing it, his clothes still hanging in the wardrobe. You perch on the edge of the bed, watching as the clock on the sideboard ticks towards 9pm. Your fingers play with the necklace you’re wearing as you wait, a gift from John on your first wedding anniversary.
Then, as soon as the hour ticks over, the phone rings. Right on time.
Not the landline. Not your mobile.
You drag the suitcase from under the bed, digging under the clothes to pull out the black brick of a phone. Untraceable and unidentifiable. Your hand is steady as you press it to your ear, a slight smile tugging at your lips as the familiar voice of your husband fills your ear.
“Hello, darling,” John murmurs into the phone, his voice crackling thanks to wherever he currently is. “Miss me?”
a/n: thinking about expanding this into a full fic?? maybe??
can i request a trinity x fem reader fic wherein its inspired by bags by clairo? ive been listenjng to that song so bad and its making crave angst with trinity in it,,
hi anon!! i'll be honest and say that i'd never heard this song before, but i had a listen and i hope that this is fitting... i actually loved writing it even though it hurt </3 part two maybe???
content: angst, trinity santos is bad at feelings, lil argument, f!reader, bad communication and unspoken feelings. 911 words
The evening sun shines through the blinds, painting the room in soft shades of pink and orange, but all Trinity can focus on is you. On the way the light catches your eyes or the way your whole face lights up when you laugh at something on the TV. All she can feel is the heat of your body against her own and the way her heart is beating in her chest like it wants to break free.
“Hey,” she blurts out suddenly, her voice cutting through the sound of whatever shitty movie is playing. It’s a Saturday night that’s become a routine for the two of you - movie and takeout at Trinity’s apartment. You turn your face away from the screen, an eyebrow raised in question.
The words are right there on her tongue. Just a few fucking simple words. It shouldn’t be this hard for her to say them, not after the shit she deals with at work everyday. But a gunshot wound isn’t half as scary as the thought of losing you. It’s not even about rejection; she could deal with that. You walking out of her life? That would destroy her.
She doubts you feel the same way about her as she feels about you.
Trinity shakes her head, clearing her throat as she gently pushes you away from her. Literally and figuratively. “Going to grab a drink,” she mutters, standing and heading towards the kitchen, leaving you alone with the movie and your thoughts.
A heavy sigh leaves your lips as you sink into the couch. You don't know what's going on with her lately, but she's been acting like this for weeks. It's like something has changed between the two of you, something you weren't even aware of. You wish she'd just… tell you. You're her best friend - why can't she be honest with you?
With a sigh, you turn off the TV and head into the kitchen. Trinity is standing at the sink, her back to you. You lean against the doorframe, your arms crossed over your chest as you speak up. "What's going on with you, Trin?" you ask, your tone almost blunt. You want her to know that you want the truth, once and for all.
Trinity swallows, shrugging her shoulders as she slowly turns to face you. She leans back against the counters, gripping the edges either side of her. "Nothing," she says, "I'm just tired from work." It's a weak excuse, but believable, right? She did have a long shift today, and you know that she's been dealing with some shit there.
But you also know when she's lying.
You scoff, shaking your head. "That's bullshit," you reply, taking a step closer to her. "You've been like this for weeks. Did I do something? Is that why you're… not telling me stuff?" It hurts you to ask that, but you know you have to.
She wants to laugh at that question. Did you do something? Only steal her heart, she thinks silently. Only make it impossible for her to go a day without thinking about you, without imagining how it might be to finally kiss you. She doesn't say any of that, though, shaking her head instead. "No, you didn't. I just…" she trails off, clenching her jaw as she fights for what to say, but you cut her off before she can get another word out.
"Then what is it, Trin?" you ask, demand, walking towards her until you're right in front of her. "What is it you're not telling me?" You search her eyes with your own, looking for… something. The eye contact is intense, almost too much for Trinity to handle. She can't tell you that she's in love with you. Not now. It's not the right time. She doesn't know if it will ever be the right time.
So, she does what she does best.
"Jesus, can you just chill out?" Trinity snaps, holding her hands up in the small space between the two of you. "You're acting like you're my fucking mother or something. I am allowed to not tell you things." This is what she does best - using sarcasm and anger as a defence mechanism, as something to build a wall around her heart. You can't reject her if she pushes you away first. It's a broken logic, but it's all she has.
You rear back as if she slapped you. In fact, you think her words might hurt more than a physical hit would. You know that this is what Trinity does, but you never thought she'd do it to you. You though you meant more to her than that. Your face crumples in pain for a few moments before you square your shoulders, setting your lips in a thin line that's almost a frown. "Well, if that's how you feel…" you mutter, walking backwards, opening a gap between the two of you that's more than just space. You hope she can't see the glossy sheen to your eyes. "I'm glad you finally stopped holding back, Trinity."
You call her Trinity, not Trin. That feels like a goddamn stab straight to her heart. She watches as you spin around, already heading towards the door. You're leaving, walking away and it's all her fault.
She reacts too late, reaching out for you with a quiet "Wait," but all she gets in response is the sound of the front door slamming shut behind you.
I saw your Gaz stuff and it got the brain wheels churning!!! Gaz getting hurt on and the field and like totally meet cute with feildmedic reader!
this is so so cute and i absolutely loved writing it!!! i’m now obsessed with gaz x field medic!reader and i’ve already started a part two… if anyone wants it hehe
content: injury/gunshot wound but i’m not a doctor so it’s probably medically inaccurate, military inaccuracies too most likey, field medic!reader, fluff <333
“I’m fine, sir,” Gaz hisses out as Price all but drags him across the sand and into the tent. “It doesn’t even, fuck, hurt!” He’s lying through his teeth, the pain from the gunshot wound radiating from his shoulder down his arm. The bullet is still in there, luckily, and the blood flow has been stemmed by some hastily applied bandages.
Price grunts as he guides Gaz into one of the cots, a hand resting on his good shoulder. “Shut up, Garrick,” he growls out, already signalling for a medic to come over. “You have a bloody bullet in your arm!” Gaz knows he needs medical attention, but that doesn’t mean he has to like it. He wants to be out there, fighting alongside his brothers. Not here in this makeshift hospital, lying here like a useless victim.
He’s about to argue this, his mouth open and the words on the tip of his tongue when he sees you. His jaw snaps shut, the pain in his shoulder momentarily forgotten. You must be an angel, he thinks for a second, because surely someone as beautiful as you couldn’t be a medic. Not here, not now. He’s not that lucky.
“Kyle Garrick?” you ask, your voice cutting through his thoughts. You look down at him, your hands already moving to assess the damage to his shoulder. You can see him trying to fight the pain, trying not to react. It's cute.
“Call me Gaz,” he says, fighting to keep his voice steady against the pain. The last thing he wants is for you to think he’s weak. “It’s just a graze, huh? Nothing I can’t handle.” He smiles up at you - it’s a lopsided kind of grin that makes you laugh quietly as you shake your head.
Your hands are steady as they move across his skin, practised and skilful in your role. "Right," you hum, eyes flicking up to his. A spark runs down your spine, but you push it away. "Just a hole in your arm being plugged by a bullet. No big deal."
Gaz barks out a laugh, wincing as the action pulls on his wound. He knows he's fucked as soon as he looks into your eyes. You're funny, on top of being talented and gorgeous. The full package, really. "Exactly," he says, trying to keep his tone light. Charming. "You get it, doc. Must be used to this kind of thing, huh?" It's a simple question, but it's a way in. A way to get to know you… and distract him from the pain.
You hum, biting your lip as you consider what to do. You're in medic mode and Gaz is enamoured. "Gunshot wounds are pretty common in our line of work," you murmur with a trace of sarcasm, offering him a smile before the focus kicks back in. "I'll give you some pain relief and remove the bullet. A few stitches and you'll be all good again." It's a simplified version of what has to happen, but you know how to keep your patients calm.
The pain relief you give him helps, but Gaz still has to hold back noises of pain by clenching his jaw so tightly he thinks it might break. Is he trying to be a little braver in hopes of impressing you? Maybe. Not that he'd ever admit that, though. By the time the stitches are done, he's sweating and only a little delirious.
"Done," you say, admiring your work for a moment before covering it with a clean bandage. "I'll have to keep you here for monitoring, then this bandage will have to be changed regularly…" You ramble on for a few minutes about the care of his injury, but he barely hears the words. All he's focused on is your face; the way your lips move as you speak, the slight flush on your cheeks from the heat and the colour of your eyes.
You can feel his gaze on you, your eyes flicking up to his as your words trail off. The sound of your breathing is loud in the tent, your heartbeat thumping in your ears. Before you can really think about it, you reach out and wipe a smear of dirt from his cheek. Your thumb glides against his skin and Gaz lets himself lean into it for a moment, his breath hitching and his eyes fluttering shut.
"Let me take you out for dinner," Gaz blurts out, the words snapping you out of your daze. You pull your hand from his face like it's on fire, but he catches your wrist. His fingers brush over your pulse, feeling the rapid beat of your heart. "Once this mission is over. Please."
You clear your throat, looking down and trying desperately to fight off the smile on your lips. You can't. You know you probably shouldn't say yes, that you should focus on work and not whatever is clearly growing between the two of you, but…
"I…" you whisper, looking back up at him. "Yeah. I'd like that."
The relief on Gaz's face is clear, a goofy smile breaking out across his face as he settles back against the pillows. He reluctantly releases his grip on you, letting you stand up. "I'll hold you to that, love," he murmurs, watching you as you head back to your duties.
content: SMUT MDNI, literally just oral, lil bit of overstimulation, f!reader
John Price eats pussy like it's his last meal on earth and he's been starving for years.
You're lying on the bed, the silk sheets cool behind your back and the plush pillows soft beneath your head as John kisses his way down your body. His lips trace a path down the valley of your breasts, over your stomach and hips until he's settled between your thighs. Two rough, meaty hands keep your legs spread open for him, fingers digging into soft flesh hard enough to bruise.
John presses a kiss against your clit, chuckling at the way your hips twitch at the contact. “There she is,” he purrs at your pussy, greeting it like it’s an old friend. He gives you one, two kitten licks that almost trick you into thinking that maybe tonight he won’t be so… intense.
Then he dives in for real and you know he was just teasing you.
He groans at the taste of you, the sound vibrating through your sensitive flesh and adding to the sensations. His tongue pushes past your folds, eagerly lapping up your juices. John can feel how wet you are, your slick dripping into his moustache and beard. Your fingers tangle in his hair, pulling hard on the strands as your thighs tremble around his face.
One of his hands moves down your leg to your ankle, pushing your leg back to open you up to him even more. “Fuckin’ delicious,” he growls, pulling back to look at your blissed out face for a second before going right back to his feast. His lips close around your clit, sucking until you’re squirming and whining. He uses his teeth, just a slight graze that makes you yelp.
He knows that you’re close, doubling down on his efforts. His tongue moves faster, harder as he shakes his head, his nose bumping against your clit with each movement. You know he’s going to give you goddamn beard burn with the way his stubble scrapes against your thighs, but the added friction is just another layer to the pleasure he’s bringing you. He holds you down as your orgasm crashes into you, your high pitched moans mixing with his own grunts as he continues to eat you out and prolong your pleasure.
Even when the wave passes, leaving you trembling and breathing heavily on the bed, John doesn’t stop. His cock is so hard that it’s almost painful, his hips rutting against the mattress to try and relieve the ache. You gasp when his tongue flicks your sensitive clit, your hips twitching as overstimulation creeps in. “John, I-I can’t,” you whine, hands pushing at his head. “‘s too much!”
John pulls back, his hand rubbing your thigh. “Shh, pretty girl,” he coos, kissing just below your navel. “I’m not finished yet.” You cry out as his mouth descends on you once more, pleasure heating back up inside you.
Your fingers tighten in his hair, no longer trying to push him away but to pull him closer again. You can’t deny him his favourite meal… not that you’d want to, anyway.
This is gonna sound weird but this has been in my mind for a while. What if reader has a musk kink and the boys catch her sniffing their clothes. What would they do. Would they indulge or would they be annoyed and push her away?
this is NOT weird at all i love this idea soooo much!! honestly might expand on it more in the future 👀
content: SMUT MDNI, musk/scent kink, degrading comments from Ghost LOL
Soap is very into it and encourages you to indulge in it. The first time he caught you sniffing his shirt after he’d been at the gym, his dick hardened at the sight. Just the thought of you being that into him that you love his scent… he fucking loves it. He’ll purposely sweat into his clothes and deliver them to you with a smirk, asking if you’ll let him watch you sniff them.
Gaz is probably the least into it. I feel like he loves things clean and tidy, so if he catches you smelling his clothes… he’ll be a little weirded out. But, he wouldn’t judge you for it (too much) and wouldn’t be annoyed. Everyone has their kinks, in his mind. He might make a point to clean his clothes more regularly, though. Just in case.
Price doesn’t really get it, but he’ll let you do it. When he catches you, he'll cross his arms and make you explain exactly what it is you're doing with his clothes. He likes to watch you squirm and blush as you stutter through you words, smirking down at you and occasionally chuckling. Shakes his head, but ultimately shrugs it off and let's you carry on doing it.
Ghost 100% uses it against you. He’ll push your face into his shirt while he fucks you, whispering in your ear that you’re ‘dirty’ and other nasty things. He’s mean about it, but it’s hot as hell. You might feel embarrassed or ashamed, but it’s hard to stay that way when he’s so clearly into it. And if you catch him sniffing your clothes one day? You should probably just pretend you didn’t.
you can't quite put your finger on why, but today is a bad day. every sound has been a little too loud, all the lights too bright. people got too close, spoke to you too much. your plans didn't go right and now that evening has finally rolled around, you're feeling completely overwhelmed.
the boys know something is wrong as soon as they open the front door. there's no music playing, not even the tv. no smell of cooking from the kitchen. and you're not there to greet them, yapping about your day.
"lovie?" Simon calls out into the house. no response. all three guys immediately look to John, knowing that he's in charge when these things happen. he nods silently, pulling off his heavy boots and quietly making his way deeper into the house.
John finds you in the 'den' - a cosy room that's basically a smaller version of the lounge. it's where you always go when you need to reset. tonight you're curled up on the couch, a weighted blanket draped over you. John sighs, crouching down to your level and gently brushing his fingers against your arm. "hey, sweetheart," he whispers, knowing to keep his voice low. "bad day, huh?"
you nod, not going into anymore detail than that. you don't need to. John carefully pulls the blanket from you and slides his arms under you, lifting you up. you close your eyes, relaxing a little in his hold as he carries you upstairs to the bedroom.
Kyle has already closed the curtains and put your favourite lamp on. he smiles when he sees you, speaking softly, "movie, or just quiet?" he asks as John lays you down on the bed.
"quiet," you respond as Johnny crawls onto the bed beside you. he waits for you to give him the okay before wrapping his arms around you, pulling you against his warm body and squeezing you just enough. he's like your own personal weighted and heated blanket. better than a blanket, really.
Simon brings you some tea, leaving it on the bedside table before he and Kyle silently slip out of the room. the two of them will cook something they know you'll eat and take care of the other chores you weren't up to doing today. Johnny will hold you for as long as you need him to, until the world stops feeling like it's too much.
"rest, love," John's voice rumbles as you brushes his fingers through your hair. "we've got you."
and that's more than enough.
a/n: this is completely self indulgent and written when i was having a bad day lol. i should write more autistic!reader..
this is just a quick post to say thank you all for (over) 500 followers!! i’m so grateful for every like, comment, reblog and follow that i get <33 i still can’t believe so many people have read what i’ve written omg
also want to say that requests are still open + if you already sent one i’m working on i promise!! i’m accepting requests for:
the pitt (michael robinavitch, jack abbot, frank langdon, cassie mckay, baran al-hashimi, trinity santos, mel king, dana evans, samira mohan + parker ellis)
call of duty (simon ghost riley, john price, kyle gaz garrick, john soap mactavish, konig + phillip graves)
visiting jack after a breakup with your boyfriend leads to him comforting you in more ways than one… word count: 2.8k
content: SMUT MDNI, age gap, dbf!jack, reader is robby’s daughter LOL, fingering, oral (f receiving), pinv sex, no protection oops, soft dom vibes ig
a/n: clearly i’ve been on a dad’s best friend kick lately because here is yet another one… 🤭 also this is the longest thing ive ever written
Jack was about to head out for his shift when his doorbell rang. It was almost midnight, the moon high in the sky as the shrill sound of the ringing echoed through his house. ‘Who the fuck is that?’ he thought to himself as he pulled open the front door, a scowl already settled on his face. The scowl immediately dropped away when he saw who it was, though - you.
You being his best friend’s daughter. Robby’s kid, all grown up now. A woman in your own right, with a life of your own. Jack hadn’t seen you for a while, but he easily snapped back into his role when he saw you tonight. Especially when he saw the tear tracks glistening on your cheeks, sparking under the moonlight.
“What’s wrong, baby?” he’d asked, ushering you into his home with a hand on your back and the other brushing away your tears. “Is it your dad? You two fight?” It wouldn’t be the first time. Jack loved his friend, but he could be a stubborn prick at times. You’d had arguments that Jack had mediated before, but something about your body language told him that wasn’t the case right now.
You shook your head as he guided you into the living room. “No.. it’s Luke… we broke up,” you admitted, your voice broken and interrupted by hiccups.
Ah.
Jack’s grip on you had tightened, his jaw clenched as he rolled those words around his mind. Luke. The name tasted like poison on his tongue. He hated that kid, never thought he was good enough for you. He was equal parts elated that you’d finally ended the relationship with him and pissed off that you were crying about it. But at least you were here, with him. He could take care of you now.
And so he’d sat you down on his couch, a blanket wrapped around your shoulders and a bottle of beer - ‘you need it, sweetie’ - in your hand. That’s how you find yourself now, your tears no longer falling and your breathing evened out. Jack listens intently as you ramble on about the relationship and how it fell apart, the words flowing out with ease. Too much ease, as it turns out.
“And he never even made me cum,” the words are out before you can stop them. You don’t even realise you’ve said it until it’s too late, your jaw clamping shut and your head snapping up to look towards Jack for his reaction.
You aren’t sure what you expected to see. Shock, maybe disgust. Embarrassment, perhaps, that you’re discussing your sex life in front of him. Whatever you thought you’d see, it doesn’t prepare you for the look in Jack’s eye.
It’s the look of hunger.
Jack can hardly believe the words he’s hearing, his jaw clenching tightly in anger. ‘What kind of pathetic excuse for a man can’t make his girl feel good?’ he thinks to himself. Especially someone as beautiful as you. You deserve to be worshipped. ‘If it was me..’ Jack quickly cuts off that train of thought, shaking his head as he decides on what to say to you.
Slowly, he leans back on the couch, crossing his arms over his chest, the fabric of his shirt pulling tight over his biceps. “Never?” he asks, his voice still soft but laced with something else now. Something that sends a shiver down your spine. “You deserve better than that, honey. You deserve a man who knows what he’s doing, knows what you need.”
A scoff escapes you, your lips set into a pout as you look at him. “How am I supposed to find that when all guys my age are… are… fucking morons!” Jack raises an eyebrow at your little outburst of frustration, the smallest hint of amusement seeping into his expression. He always did like it when you were a brat.
“Watch your tone, kid,” he mumbles, but without any real disapproval. With a slight grunt, he stands up, crossing the room to where you’re sitting. He stands in front of you and you have to look up to meet his eyes, swallowing hard. He tilts his head to the side as he speaks. “Maybe you should stop wasting time with boys, then. Maybe it’s time you found a real man instead.”
The words are more of a command than friendly advice.
You look up at him through your eyelashes, your grip on the bottle in your hands tightening. Something stirs inside you, something that’s been there for a long time, buried deep inside you. Jack has always been… attractive. Your first crush all those years ago. It’s something you’ve never allowed yourself to really consider - it’s taboo, wrong. But now that it’s right here in front of you… “I think I’ve already found one, Jack,” you whisper finally, an acceptance of what’s being offered to you. An invitation.
Jack practically growls at your words, his heart overruling his head. Neither of you can be sure who exactly moves first, whether it’s your hands grabbing at his shirt or his fingers gripping your waist, but within seconds your lips are moving together in a heated kiss. Jack hauls you up, spinning the two of you around so that he’s sitting on the couch with you on top of him, straddling his thighs.
You gasp, the sound muffled by the kiss. Jack takes the opportunity when your lips part to slip his tongue into your mouth, meeting your own and performing a dance as old as time. His hands slide down your body to rest on your hips, squeezing the soft flesh there before pulling you against him, practically grinding you down against his growing erection. The sensation is enough to make you moan, a fucking beautiful sound that echoes through Jack’s mind. He breaks the kiss, leaving you panting as he descends on your neck.
“Jack,” you whimper, fingers curled around his shoulders as you tip your head to the side to expose your neck to him. The sound of his name in that breathless, needy tone has Jack’s hips rocking up against you. He can’t remember the last time he got hard this fast or this easily, the last time he wanted someone this badly. But this is different - it’s you. With a groan and great reluctance, he peels himself away from your neck and looks up at you.
“Are you sure you want this, baby?” Jack asks, dreading you saying no but needing to make sure. “I don’t want to… take advantage of you. I just want to make you feel good, like you deserve.”
You drop your forehead against his, his words making you shiver. “I want this, Jack,” you whisper, your body vibrating with need. “Please…” That single word is what does it, what breaks the last of his self control. The image of you, flushed and begging in his lap, will stay with him forever. His hands drop to your thighs, gripping you and flipping you onto your back on the couch, looming over you with a hand braced against the arm rest.
“Shhh,” he murmurs, pulling the collar of your shirt down to kiss your collarbones. “I’ve got ya, sweetie. Let me take care of you.” His hands slide down your body, fingers slipping under the hem of your shirt to caress the skin of your stomach. He grips the fabric and pulls back, starting to peel it off of you. “Arms up,” he says and you do so instantly.
As soon as your shirt is discarded to the floor, Jack’s lips descend on you. He traces a path down your chest to your hips, biting lightly at the skin just above the waistband of your pants. You whimper, hips twitching in response. “Jack,” you whine, your hand settling into his grey curls. He hums, hooking his thumbs into the last of your clothes, tossing them away to bare you to him fully.
“Jesus,” he breathes out, his pupils dilating as he takes in the sight of you. Dripping for him. Ready for him. His eyes lock on yours as he lowers himself down, his tongue licking a stripe up your pussy. You gasp, quickly biting down on your bottom lip in a feeble attempt to stay quiet. The eye contact is intense, more intense than anything you’re used to. Jack’s tongue moves against you with purpose, and when he flicks it over your clit, you lose all semblance of control - your back arches and a high pitched wail leaves your lips.
“Jack, ohmygod, please don’t stop…” you moan out the words, hating how desperate you sound but unable to stop it. The sound of you like this has Jack growling against your cunt, working his tongue harder and faster. He wants to push you over the edge. Needs to. He has to make you feel good.
And he does. Your thighs clamp around his head as you fall apart, crying out his name as you tremble in pure pleasure. It’s like a bunch of fireworks going off behind your eyes, a wave of sensation washing over you again and again until you’re left panting and shuddering from aftershocks. Jack finally pulls away, moving to kiss your lips instead, letting you taste yourself. You kiss him back, fingers digging into his back as you cling onto him. When you feel his hand slip back between your legs, his thumb finding your sensitive clit, you whine.
He shushes you, breaking the kiss to speak. “Shh, baby, relax… I need to, God,” he groans as he pushes a finger inside you, feeling the tightness of you. “I need to make sure you’re ready for me. So I won't hurt you.” The care in his voice fucking breaks you. This is what you were missing, you think. Someone who gives a shit about you and how you feel, someone with the knowledge and experience to do this right. Someone like Jack.
After a few minutes of stretching you out to take two of his thick fingers, you can’t take it anymore. Your walls flutter around his digits as you blink up at him. “Please, Jack… I need…” you trail off into a whine when his thumb circles your clit again, your nails digging into his biceps. “Fuck me, Jack, please…”
Jack swears he could cum just from hearing those words alone. With a curse, he pulls his fingers out of you with a wet ‘pop’, his hands moving frantically to his own clothes. You watch in hunger as he strips, the sight of the freckles on his chest and shoulders making you squirm. “You’re so handsome,” you can’t help but say, Jack’s cock jumping at the compliment. A tiny smile tugs at your lips when you realise that you’re affecting him just as much as he’s affecting you, your hand reaching down you wrap around his length. It’s a bold move, but his reaction is worth it.
“Fuck! Honey… fuck,” Jack has to close his eyes and take a few breaths as you stroke him, placing his large hand over your own as he guides himself to your opening. The tip of his dick catches your clit and you shiver, your legs falling open wider as he settles between them. He watches as his cock begins to slip inside you, just a few millimetres, captivated by the sight. You make a noise and he looks up. Seeing you sprawled out on his couch as he’s about to fuck you… it makes him stop and pull back.
Your brows furrow in confusion and panic as you push yourself up onto your elbows, watching as he grabs his prosthetic from where it was lying on the floor. “What is it? Did I do something?” you ask as he hastily fixes the device to his leg.
“No,” he rasps, reaching out to scoop you up into his arms. “I’m not doing this here, not fucking you on that shitty old couch. You deserve a bed, baby,” Jack explains, already marching you towards his bedroom. You giggle, burying your face in the crook of his neck. Within moments you’re sprawled out on his bed, his hands hooking under your knees as he returns to his place between your legs.
“You didn’t need to do that,” you whisper, wrapping your arms around his neck as he rests his forehead against yours. He brushes his lips over yours in a light kiss, his cock pressing back into you. Just a little.
“I wanted to,” he replies before capturing your lips in a proper kiss, swallowing your moans and cries as he finally, finally, enters you fully. The feeling of you - tight, hot and perfect - is almost too much for Jack. He has to grip your hips hard, his thumbs no doubt bruising your skin, just to stop himself from cumming right then and there. It’s overwhelming for you, too. The feeling of being so full of him is everything you never knew you needed. His hands on your hips are grounding, his lips on your own a comfort as you adjust to his size. “You good?” Jack asks, murmuring the words against your lips.
You nod, your fingers moving up into the hair at the back of his neck as you speak. “Perfect…” That’s all Jack needs to hear for him to start to move, his thrusts deep and slow. His cock hits that special spot inside you with each movement, pushing you higher and higher. Luke never did that, you think to yourself, his name feeling like a sin in your mind. Jack can tell immediately where your mind has drifted, pulling back and cupping your chin so your eyes snap to his.
“Don’t think about him,” he growls, moving his hips just a little bit harder. “Focus on me, baby.” His fingers squeeze your chin, not enough to hurt but enough to bring you back to this moment. Your attention shifts back to him, each drag of his dick along your walls driving any other thoughts out of your mind until all you can think of is him.
“Jack, Jack…” his name is a broken mantra on your lips, your face contorting with pleasure as the coil in your stomach tightens. The feeling of you tightening around him combined with you moaning his name makes Jack groan, his pace stuttering before he fixes it, but faster now. He’s chasing both your orgasms, slipping his fingers between your bodies to find your clit. It’s puffy, throbbing from all his attention and when his fingers press against it, your back arches.
“That’s it, beautiful… let go for me…” Jack’s words seep into your brain, your nails digging into his shoulders as you climax. It’s even more powerful than before, somehow feeling even better. Your pussy flutters around his dick, the sensation and the way you look enough to pull Jack over the edge with you. With a roar, he buries himself as deep as he can go, twitching as he empties himself inside you. The room is filled with the scent of sweat and sex, the sounds from both of you mixing into one symphony.
You think that this must be what heaven feels like. A satisfied, fucked out smile spreads across your lips as you lie there, waiting to come back down to earth. Jack’s hands settle on your stomach, his chest heaving as he opens his eyes to look down at you. He can’t help but chuckle at the state of you - flushed cheeks, messy hair and the expression of a woman who’s been well fucked on your face. Reluctantly, he carefully pulls out of you with a hiss. You whine at the loss, feeling the sticky mess dripping onto your thighs.
Jack collapses next to you on the bed, gathering you up into his arms and pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “That’s how you deserve to be treated, honey,” he whispers against your hair, squeezing you once more before pulling away. “Stay there,” he commands, as if you could move anyway. Your legs feel like jelly.
He returns a moment later with a damp cloth, carefully cleaning you up. He has to fight a smirk when you twitch from over sensitivity, secretly proud of himself for reducing you to this state. He did what he planned to do. He took care of you, in every way a man should. In every way your boyfriend, ex boyfriend, couldn’t. When he’s satisfied that you’re clean, he tucks you under the covers with a kiss. You’re already half asleep, exhausted from your earlier tears as well as the sex.
Jack doesn’t sleep, watching over you instead. When his phone buzzes on the nightstand, he glances at it to see a text from Robby, asking if he’s seen you. Mentioning your recent break up, wanting to make sure you're okay. Jack lets out a huff of laughter, ignoring the spark of guilt flaring up inside him.
“Yeah, brother,” he mumbles quietly as to not wake you, gently stroking your head. “She’s never been better.”
Thinking about Simon who’s never really been in a relationship before and has no idea how to be a boyfriend. He convinces himself he’ll be a disappointment to you, that he won’t be able to do all the things a ‘normal’ boyfriend would do.
But he learns quickly.
He spends his days off with you, letting you trace his scars as the morning sunlight creeps into the bedroom. He cooks breakfast with you, big hands gripping your hips as he leans down to kiss your neck, inhaling the scent of you. Of his home.
He listens to you ramble, gossip or complain. Plays with your hair while you rest your head in his lap because he knows it soothes you. He memorises what you like - how you take your tea and coffee, the shows you like to watch and what your favourite bath salts are.
If you ask, he’ll let you colour in the lines of his tattoos. Whatever colour you want, whatever makes you happy. He’s silent, focused on your face and the way it looks when you’re concentrating. You’re captivating to him.
When you introduce him to your family, he’s terrified. He’s sure that they’ll hate him, this big intimidating man who barely says a thing. He can hardly believe it when they don’t. Within weeks he’s baking with your mum, helping your dad fix his car. He even plays football in the garden with your cousins. One time you see him on the couch with your niece fast asleep on his chest.
Simon Riley might have never been a boyfriend before, but he’s the best you’ve ever had.
saw the previous gaz post, and it got me thinking, can we get possessive Gaz? I see it with Ghost and, although rarely, Soap, but Gaz never gets any love :(
YESSSSS POSSESSIVE GAZ!!!!!!!!! i will never stop writing for my man and i can’t believe i haven’t done this before omg. enjoy ;)
content: smut mdni, no gender specified!
Gaz is a confident man. Not cocky, but he knows he’s handsome. Knows you love him, that you’re his. He tells himself that he doesn’t need to be jealous or possessive over you… but sometimes he can’t help himself.
He looooooves to leave love bites and bruises on your neck before he goes away on deployments. He sucks marks into your skin hard enough that he knows they’ll take a while to fade, that they’ll stay visible the whole time he’s gone. It makes him hard just thinking about the fact that you're back at home, marked by him and everyone will see that.
If you're out, maybe at a pub, his jaw will clench anytime someone's eyes linger on you for longer than a second. He'll drape his arm around your waist first, a silent claim, glaring daggers at the other person. If that doesn't work, you'll feel his hand drift to your hip, then to your ass. Squeezing hard enough to make you squeak. And if they're still looking? Gaz drags you off to the toilets to give you one quick, mind-blowing orgasm, making sure you look suitably dishevelled when you walk back out. He'll smirk as he smooths down your hair, your cheeks burning red and your eyes glazed over.
Then there are the times when Gaz snaps. When you laugh a little too hard at another guys joke, or don't reply to his texts as fast as he'd like. Those are the times when he has you face down, ass up on the bed. Fucking you with deep, powerful thrusts that leave no doubt in your mind (or the neighbours) who you belong to.
content: SMUT MDNI, strap!!!!, riding duh, soft dom cassie?, established relationship, f!reader
cassie loooooves when you ride her. loves lying back and watching you, talking you through it, guiding your with her hands on your hips. she likes it when you wear one of her tshirts, or a lacy little bra she can admire. but her favourite is when you wear nothing at all, just her necklace sitting pretty between your tits.
“that’s it, baby,” she’ll coo, squeezing the soft flesh of your hips as she helps you move. “such a good girl… go faster, beautiful,” one of her hands will slide across your stomach to your chest, teasing you until you mewl and she chuckles. “my sensitive girl, huh?” she'd tease, pulling you in for messy, hungry kisses where she nips at your bottom lip.
and if you say it’s too much? if your thighs are trembling against her hips, your chest heaving as you try desperately to chase your release? don’t worry, cassie’s got you. one hand cups your chin, keeping your gaze on her. the other finds your clit, thumb circling in time with the lazy rolls of your hips. "you can do it, can't you? for me?" her words are supportive, but you'll hear the command beneath them. and the sound of her using her 'doctor voice' will always have you obeying.
when you collapse against her chest, body trembling with aftershocks of pleasure and your skin hot to touch, she'll be gentle with you. soft hands caressing your body, quiet praises murmured against your skin as she lies you down on your back. "did so well, baby... so proud of you..." her words make you feel like you're floating, lost in a blissful haze of pleasure so strong that you almost won't notice the way she drifts between your legs, eager for round two.
content: SMUT MDNI, age gap, semi public sex?? (the bathroom at your parents house LOL), reader is Price’s kid again oops
“We shouldn’t be doing this, bonnie,” Johnny murmurs between kisses, his hands squeezing your hips. You’re perched on the bathroom counter, legs locked around him as he moves inside you. Downstairs is full of people you both know - your parents, his friends, all here for a barbecue. People who would be horrified if they knew what was happening in this bathroom, especially your father.
You smile against Johnny’s lips, gasping when he thrusts his hips forwards a little harder than before. “You said that last time,” you whisper, one hand moving up to run through his mohawk. “And the time before that… and the one before—“ He cuts you off with a growl, dipping his head to the spot where your neck meets your shoulders. He bites down, making you arch against him.
“Don’t get smart, love,” he says, squeezing your ass and pulling you closer as he grinds his hips against you. His cock rubs against that special spot inside you, the one that makes you moan louder than you probably should right now. “Doesn’t make it any less true… we really shouldn’t be doing this…” He punctuates his words with a sharp thrust, stealing the breath from your lungs as your head tips back.
You know he’s right. This whole thing is wrong. Your father would kill him if he knew. Your friends would judge you. Both your families would never look at either of you in the same way.
But if it is so wrong, why the fuck does it feel so right? So goddamn good? Why does it feel like the two of you were made for each other everytime you’re together like this?
“Fuck, love,” Johnny whines into your ear, pulling you from your thoughts. You can feel his hips starting to falter in their rhythm, a tell tale sign that he's getting close. And you are too, that familiar tightening in your gut growing with each perfect thrust of his hips. "Gonna fill yer up, baby," he growls into your ear, his Scottish accent growing more pronounced as he loses himself in you, his words growing dirtier.
It's always the filthy things he whispers in your ear that send you over the edge. A gasp of his name leaves your lips, your back arching as your orgasm washes over you in waves that leave you trembling. Johnny grunts, curses and slams his hips against yours. "Fuck!" he says, his cock twitching inside you as he makes good on his promise to fill you up.
For a few minutes, the small bathroom is filled with the sounds of the both of you trying to catch your breath and come down from your highs. Johnny pulls out of you with a groan, drawing a whine from your own lips. His hands come up to cup your cheeks, his lips capturing yours in a deep kiss. It’s slow, full of unspoken words and feelings.
Johnny pulls back, his breath hot against your skin as he speaks. “C’mon, love. Let’s get you dressed,” he carefully helps you down from the countertop, adjusting your clothes and smoothing down your hair. “Look at the state of ya,” he tuts and you laugh, shaking your head as you pat down his shirt and reach up to fix his hair.
“Shut up,” you mutter, “You look just as bad.” Johnny raises an eyebrow but doesn’t say anything else. You both know that you’ve spent too long in here, that you need to get back downstairs before people notice you’re gone and start talking. You sigh, stretching up to kiss him one last time before he unlocks the door.
You sneak back into the gathering with ease. You’ve done it plenty of times over the last few months, the two of you now experts in how to get away with a secret fuck. And you’re positive you’ve gotten away with it this time, too. Until you feel your father’s gaze burning into your neck.
“Honey,” Price’s voice cuts through the conversation, deceptively calm but with an undertone you know well. One that makes your stomach drop. “What’s that on your neck?”
moving in next door to toxic Price who decides he wants you the second he sees you carrying boxes up your driveway. makes himself wait at least a couple of days before knocking on your door and introducing himself, his big frame blocking up your entryway as he smirks down at you. "pretty little thing like you shouldn't be livin' on your own," he drawls, expecting you to blush and melt as his words. "need a strong man to look after you."
to his surprise, you slam the door in his face. interesting, he thinks, his dick twitching in his jeans. that little act only makes him want you more. and he has a plan.
over the next few weeks, things start going wrong in your house every damn day. broken pipes, the electricity cutting out, even mice. but it’s okay! your neighbour Mr Price is more than happy to fix them for you and he doesn’t even ask for anything in return. it’s more than enough for him to see you slowly falling into his trap.
especially when you start noticing a big, hulking figure outside your window. following you home and watching you from the street. that’s the last straw, the final push you need to end up at Price’s door because maybe he was right. maybe you do need a strong man after all.
Price makes a mental note to thank Ghost while he strokes your hair and murmurs reassurances into your ear. “don’t worry, love,” he whispers, a smug grin on his lips. “i’ve got ya now.”
PLS GIVE ME MEL WITH A BUTCH READER,,, there is a DROUGHT of mel fics 😞😞😞
anon, i will personally write as many mel fics as your heart desires… THAT’S MY GIRL!!! also i wasn’t sure if you wanted smut or not, so i kept this PG (but i will definitely do a non PG part two if you’d like to send another ask👀) enjoy hehe <3
content: trinity takes mel to a gay bar, butch!reader, first meeting <3, comfort+fluff
This was a mistake, Mel thinks to herself as she stares into her drink. A glass of water, to be exact. Everyone else in this bar might be on their way to being drunk, but not Mel, despite Trinity trying her hardest. This was all her idea - Mel was still in shock from her sister's revelations, feeling… lost. Trinity’s grand solution? A night out at her favourite lesbian bar in the city. For some reason, Mel agreed.
She wishes she hadn’t now.
It’s not all bad. The music is good and the atmosphere is nice. Mel turns, leaning back against the bar as she looks across the room to Trinity. She’s playing pool with some friends, laughing and enjoying herself. A smile tugs at Mel’s lips. At least one of us is having fun, she thinks. She shuffles on her feet, her heels feeling almost foreign after spending so long in trainers at work. It does feel good to be outside of her comfort zone, though… Just a little.
“Can I buy you a drink, beautiful?” Your voice cuts through Mel’s thoughts, startling her back to the present and making her jump a little. The first thing she sees is your boots, big and heavy in contrast to her heels. She lifts her head to find you beside her, smirking as you lean against the bar. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you,” you say with a soft chuckle, reaching out a hand to introduce yourself. When Mel slips her hand into your own, you squeeze it softly as she gives you her name.
“Mel,” she squeaks, shaking her head as if to clear her thoughts. “I have a drink already. Thank you, though…” You hum, releasing her hand and reaching towards her glass instead, tapping on the side of it with a raised eyebrow.
“Water? We can do better than that,” you push, already turning to the bartender, but the stern look on her face stops you. And sends a chill down your spine. “Okay, okay. No drink. How about you tell me what you’re doing here all alone instead, then?”
Mel shrugs, biting her bottom lip a little. If only she knew how to answer that question. “My friend invited me,” she settles on after a few moments of silence. It’s the truth, even if it is just a part of it. She picks up her drink, taking a sip before putting it down and turning back to you. “What about you?” She asks, tilting her head to the side as she awaits your response.
You laugh a little, a lopsided grin spreading across your lips as you answer her. “Me? Oh, I’m just here to flirt with pretty girls.” If Mel had been drinking at that moment, she would have choked on it. Her cheeks flush red, a smile pulling at her lips despite herself. Fuck, you think, she’s even cuter when she blushes. Clearing your throat to try and focus yourself, you speak again. “So… tell me something about yourself.”
That’s an easy one for Mel to answer. “I work at the hospital,” she says with a smile. That’s what she’s most proud of about herself - her job, her brain, her work ethic. She can’t help but ramble on to you a little about it, dropping medical jargon that goes over your head without her realising. This is her passion. Her life. And you’re more than happy to listen to her, the two of you slowly drifting towards each other until your hips are touching. The brush of your body against hers is what snaps Mel out of her monologue, her breath catching in her throat as she stutters out an apology. “Ah, sorry… I didn’t mean to… say all that.”
Her awkwardness is endearing to you. You shake your head, your elbow bumping against hers where it rests on top of the bar. “Don’t apologise,” you say, meaning it. “You have brains and beauty, huh? Just my type.” You can’t help but reach out, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear, your fingers brushing over her glasses before resting against the skin of her cheek for a second. Mel averts her eyes from yours, a sudden wave of… something washing over her.
It’s like your touch awoke something in Mel, some yearning she didn’t know she possessed. And that makes the doubts creep in, her mind working overtime to shut down whatever might be happening here between the two of you. What is she doing? This is ridiculous. She shouldn’t be here. She should be at home, looking after Becca or catching up on work. Not here, flirting with you.
“I have to…” Mel mutters, slowly backing away from you. “I need some air. Sorry.” You step towards her, eyebrows furrowed in concern, but she’s already turning and walking to the exit.
“Fuck,” you growl under your breath, running a hand through your hair. You fucked up. Maybe you pushed too hard, were too forward. You grab the glass of water from the bar and push your way through the crowds until you reach the exit. The cool evening air hits you as you scan the surroundings until you spot Mel, huddled against a wall with her arms wrapped around herself. You let out a sigh of relief, already shrugging out of your leather jacket as you approach her.
The smell of you hits Mel as she feels the heavy weight of your coat drape over her shoulders. It’s warm. Comforting. Her eyes flick up to yours, a mix of relief and disbelief swirling in them. Like she didn’t expect you to follow her out here. “Thanks,” she mumbles as you press the glass of water into her hand. She takes a sip, leaning her head back against the wall and closing her eyes.
You rock back and forth on your feet, hands shoved into the pockets of your pants as you watch her. “I’m sorry,” you say quietly, “if I made you… uncomfortable.” As soon as you say that, Mel’s eyes snap open and she quickly shakes her head. Shit, she doesn’t want you to think this is your fault.
“No,” she says, straightening up and stepping closer to you. “You didn’t do anything. I just… freaked out, I guess.” She looks directly into your eyes for the first time tonight and you both feel it - a jolt, a spark. Something new and exciting. Mel opens her mouth, closes it again as she tries to think of what to say next, but you beat her to it.
“Let me walk you home. Or get you a cab, at least,” you say, trying desperately to keep the huskiness out of your voice. You don’t want to freak her out again with how goddamn badly you want her. “Please.”
Mel is poised to decline your offer, the words already forming on her lips… but then she thinks of everything that’s happened the past few days, with work and her sister and her own fears over how her life was turning out. She thinks of the way you smiled at her, how you actually listened to her when she spoke. She thinks of the smell of you and the electricity she can feel whenever you look at her.
For the first time in her life, Mel throws caution to the wind. Fuck it, she thinks, nodding. “You can walk me home,” she says, nodding towards the street. “It’s just around the corner.”
The grin that breaks out on your face lets Mel know that she made the right choice.
