This blog was taking the dust or at least I'm not getting much reader fic from CoD, so I decided to make it for ALL my simping. Revamped it a little to make it a little more active. So, this blog will be multi fandom from now on ❤️
Still contain NSFW, so navigate carefully ‼️🔞
I'm not really gonna make content myself, but it could change ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ I'm slowly getting back to writing reader fic but mainly with my OC. Which will also be reblogged here.
Simon moving in temporarily after your flat's been broken into, you tell yourself it's only until the locks are replaced, the alarm's installed, until you stop jumping at shadows. But days turn into weeks, and he never really leaves. His things start to migrate— a toothbrush beside yours, leather gloves that're cracked at the knuckles left on the radiator to dry, a half empty pack of smokes on the windowsill.
You don't really remember saying yes to any of it. (Barely remember much at all, honestly. Can't seem to find the will to think past the break in.)
He's quiet. Keeps to himself. He doesn't cook without asking, fixes the loose hinge on the back door, changes the bulb in the hallway before you even notice it's out. He doesn't hover, but he's always nearby, watching, listening, making sure the silence doesn't turn threatening.
He takes the room upstairs, the one you never use except for storage. You hear him moving around at night: the floorboards creaking under his weight, the soft sound of a drawer opening, then closing. Sometimes pacing, like he's working something out in his head, like sleep doesn't come easy.
One night, you wake to the sound of your name. Low. Rough. Almost a growl. The flat's too still otherwise. You know he's awake. You should ignore it. But you don't.
Up the stairs, the door's cracked open, a thin line of light slicing through the darkness and inside—
Simon's sitting on the edge of the bed, hair damp from the shower, shirt off and the line of his throat slick with sweat. In one hand, your knickers. The pair that went missing from the laundry last week. His other hand works slow between his legs, thick fingers wrapped around his cock, your name coming out of him like he's carving it into the room.
He doesn't stop when you freeze in the doorway, just looks at you, eyes heavy and unblinking.
Warnings: Anxiety, emotional overwhelm, comfort, soft poly relationship, lots of fluff, protective and affectionate 141.
Author’s Note: I use this GIF way too much-
Summary: Feeling overwhelmed has become a constant struggle, but your boys always notice when the weight of the world gets too heavy. Each of them has their own way of pulling you back to safety—reminding you that you’re not alone.
Masterlist
MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+
You weren’t sure when it started—the feeling of being constantly overwhelmed, like the world was pressing in too fast, too loud, too much. Every little thing felt like a weight on your shoulders, every decision another drop in the ocean of uncertainty threatening to drown you. The pressure sat heavy on your chest, coiling like an iron band around your ribs, making it hard to breathe, hard to think.
But somehow, amidst all the noise, they became your refuge.
Johnny
Johnny was the first to notice.
"Yer thinking too much again, aren’t ya?" His voice was warm, teasing, but his eyes were sharp, watching you closely.
You were sitting in the common room, curled up on the couch, shoulders hunched forward, your hands clenched into fists in your lap. You hadn’t realized how tense you were until Johnny plopped down next to you, throwing an arm around your shoulders with a casual ease that only he could manage.
"Hey, c’mon," he nudged you lightly with his shoulder. "Can’t have ya stressin’ yourself into an early grave. If ya do, who’s gonna listen to my awful jokes?"
You huffed, a weak smile tugging at the corner of your lips.
Johnny grinned. "Ah, there it is. See? That’s better."
Instead of prying, he started rambling about something ridiculous—some past mission that involved Kyle getting chased by an angry old woman with a broom.
"Swear on me life, love, I’ve never seen the man run so fast. You’d think a whole army was after him, but nah—just an old granny screamin’ bloody murder."
It was impossible not to laugh. Johnny always had a way of pulling you out of your own head, grounding you in the moment.
When he felt you relax against him, he pressed a kiss to your temple, his arm tightening around you. "That’s my girl. No more thinkin’. Just stay here with me."
Kyle
Kyle was always the one to step in when things got really bad.
It had been a long day. A heavy day. By the time you made it back to your room, your chest was too tight, your thoughts racing too fast. You felt like you couldn’t breathe, like the walls were closing in.
Kyle found you sitting on the edge of the bed, your head in your hands. He didn’t say anything at first—just sat beside you, resting his hand on your back, rubbing slow, gentle circles.
"Alright, love. We’re gonna do this together, yeah? Five things you can see."
You swallowed hard, blinking through the fog. "Uh… the window. The lamp. Your hands."
"Good. Keep going."
Four things you could touch. Three you could hear. Two you could smell. One you could taste.
By the time you finished, your breathing had evened out, the tightness in your chest easing. Kyle smiled softly, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.
"See? You’re alright. I’ve got you."
Instead of leaving, he pulled you against him, letting you rest your head on his chest, his arms warm and steady around you.
"Whenever it gets bad, just find me, yeah? You don’t have to do this alone."
John
John didn’t need to say much—his presence alone was enough to make you feel safer.
"You're carrying too much, sweetheart," he murmured one evening, finding you staring out at the base through the window, lost in thought. His voice was low, rough but gentle. "You don’t have to do it alone."
Sometimes, he’d just sit with you, handing you a cup of tea without a word. Other times, he’d pull you into his lap, wrapping you in his arms, pressing slow kisses to your shoulder.
"You’re too hard on yourself," he murmured one night, his fingers tracing idle patterns on your back. "You give so much to everyone else—let us take care of you too, yeah?"
There was no arguing with him when he used that voice, and honestly, you didn’t want to.
Simon
Simon didn’t talk much, but he always knew when you needed him.
One night, the weight of the world pressed down too hard, and you broke. It wasn’t pretty. It wasn’t quiet. You hadn’t meant for anyone to see, but Simon found you, your back pressed against the cold concrete wall of the hallway, your breaths coming too fast.
He didn’t hesitate.
He just wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into his chest, holding you there like he could shield you from everything.
"Breathe," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "I’ve got you."
No judgment. No questions. Just his steady heartbeat against your ear, his warmth anchoring you back to reality. His gloved hand slid up and down your back, slow and firm, and after a few moments, he pressed his masked face against the top of your head, exhaling quietly.
"You’re not alone."
You weren’t sure how long you stood there, wrapped in his arms, but by the time you pulled away, your breathing had evened out, and the worst of the storm had passed.
Simon didn’t say anything else. He just gave your hand a final squeeze before leading you back to your shared quarters, where the others were waiting.
---
Together, They Were Home
Later that night, you found yourself curled up in the middle of the bed, a tangle of limbs and warmth surrounding you.
Johnny was wrapped around your back, his arm draped over your waist, his breath warm against your neck. Kyle was on your other side, his fingers laced with yours, thumb stroking slow circles over your knuckles.
John was at the foot of the bed, propped up on his elbow, watching over all of you with quiet protectiveness.
And Simon? Simon was behind you, his large, steady hand resting against your ribs, feeling the rise and fall of your breath as if making sure you were still there, still safe.
"Y’alright, love?" Kyle murmured sleepily, squeezing your hand.
You nodded, a soft warmth settling in your chest.
"Yeah."
Johnny nuzzled closer, pressing a kiss to the back of your neck. "That’s my girl."
John chuckled, his hand resting on your ankle. "Get some rest, sweetheart. We’ve got you."
You weren’t sure when it started—the feeling of being safe.
But with them?
You weren’t drowning anymore.
You were finally learning how to breathe.
Hope you enjoyed! Please consider liking and reposting! -Midnight💜
been very busy lately but hopefully ill manage to release more serious content in a bit !
You’d been scrolling TikTok late at night when you stumbled across the trend. People handing their unsuspecting partners a folded-up note with a very suggestive message: “If you don’t smile, I’ll give you the sucky sucky tonight ;>”
Your first thought? Simon would kill me.
Your second thought? Worth it.
You knew Simon was a man of composure, but getting under his skin, and trying to get him to crack, was one of your favorite pastimes.
Dirty jokes, double entendres, inappropriate timing. You had an arsenal of ways to make him groan or roll his eyes.
By the time he got home, you’d already set up the trap.
Your phone was propped up discreetly on the bookshelf in the corner, angled perfectly to catch his reaction.
You grabbed a scrap of paper, scrawled the infamous words with a sly flourish, and folded it up neatly.
When you heard his heavy boots coming down the hall, you called out, “Simon!”
“What?” His gruff response echoed back, as no-nonsense as ever.
“Come here!” you chirped, voice dripping with sweetness.
His hulking figure appeared in the doorway moments later, mask in place, sleeves rolled up from whatever hellish workout he’d just endured. He stopped short, eyes narrowing suspiciously.
“What do you want?”
“Just this!” You shoved the note at him with a grin, practically vibrating with anticipation.
He didn’t take it at first, instead fixing you with that look that said he knew you were up to something.
Slowly, almost begrudgingly, he snatched the paper from your hand and unfolded it.
You watched his eyes dart across the words. Once. Twice. His expression didn’t budge. Not a single twitch, no smirk, no sharp exhale. Nothing. He just stood there, holding the note, his gaze as unreadable as ever.
Your excitement faltered. “...Well?” you prompted, leaning forward like that might help him crack.
Simon’s eyes flicked briefly to the corner of the room where your phone was clearly set up and recording. His gaze returned to yours and slowly, deliberately, he tilted his head.
“I didn’t smile, no?” His voice was low, almost lazy, like he already knew exactly how this was going to end.
You hesitated. “Uh... no?”
There was a flicker of amusement in Simon’s eyes as he folded the note back up with the kind of care that was meant to drive you mad.
He didn’t look at you right away, just rolled the paper between his fingers like he was deciding what to do with it.
“You gonna keep your promise, love?” he asked, finally lifting his gaze.
Your stomach flipped, and you tried to shrug like you weren’t already starting to squirm. “It was a joke, Simon,” you said, forcing out a laugh. “You know, a joke. Ha-ha funny. You’re supposed to laugh and move on.”
He tilted his head, watching you like a hawk sizing up a very nervous rabbit. “I don’t think I’m laughing.”
Your mouth opened, ready to snap back, but then he pocketed the note with an infuriating nonchalance and unfastened his belt.
You blinked. “What are you doing?”
His hands worked methodically, pulling the belt free and holding it in one hand as he stepped toward you.
“Well,” he said, dragging the word out just enough to sound smug, “I’m tired. And you did say- what was it? ‘If you don’t smile, I’ll-’”
“Alright, alright!” you cut in, heat flooding your face. “It’s not legally binding!”
Simon let out a short laugh, shaking his head like you were the ridiculous one. “Didn’t realize you were the type to back out of a deal.”
You took a step back as he moved closer, until your shoulders hit the wall. “It wasn’t a deal!”
“Oh, it was written down. That counts for something.”
He dropped the belt onto the nearby chair, leaning one hand against the wall beside your head as his eyes drifted lazily to the phone you’d set up. The damn thing was still recording.
His gaze flicked back to you, a smirk playing on his lips now. “So, this was the plan, huh? Thought I’d blush? Stammer? You were gonna put me on the internet looking like some poor, flustered sod?”
“I didn’t think this far ahead,” you admitted, trying to duck under his arm, but he stepped in closer, blocking your escape.
“No kidding.”
You groaned, feeling your face burn as his other hand came up to pluck a strand of hair off your shoulder, his movements far too relaxed. He was enjoying this, dragging it out, and you were absolutely furious with yourself for thinking this would go any other way.
“You’re such an ass,” you muttered.
“I am,” he said, letting his hand drop to his side, “but you thought you’d win. Cute, really.”
You rolled your eyes. “You know, I could just delete the video.”
He turned his head to look at the phone again, then reached out and grabbed it in one quick motion.
“Simon!”
Too late. He angled it toward himself, replaying the footage with a flick of his thumb. You could hear your voice echoing from the tiny speaker, your awkward laugh and poorly delivered excuses making him snort.
“This is pathetic,” he said, not even looking at you as he tapped the screen.
“Give it back!” you lunged for the phone, but he lifted it out of reach without any effort.
“You’re keeping this,” he said, his tone smug. “Perfect reminder of the time you tried to play me and lost.”
“Simon-”
He turned off the recording and tossed the phone back onto the shelf like it didn’t matter anymore. “Go on, love. Post it. Let the world see how terrified I was.”
You glared at him, arms crossed, trying to will away the flush on your face. “I hate you.”
“Don't hate me because you’re predictable.”
He stepped back, grabbed his belt from the chair, and shot you a pointed look before turning toward the door.
“Oh, and for the record,” he added, glancing over his shoulder, “still didn’t smile.”
---
Dinner was over, the dishes were stacked in the sink, and the house had settled into a quiet calm.
Simon had made his way to the couch after his obligatory grunt of appreciation for the meal, his usual way of saying thank you.
Now, he was stretched out, one arm slung lazily over the backrest, the other holding a cold beer as the TV hummed softly in the background.
It was football, Chelsea versus Manchester, and, judging by the occasional grunt of approval or muttered curse under his breath, Simon was just engaged enough to care.
You leaned in the doorway, watching him for a moment. You considered not following through but, well, you were someone who kept their word.
He rarely let himself relax like this. He still wore his joggers and that old, slightly too-tight T-shirt that clung to his shoulders and chest but rode up just enough to show the soft curve of his belly when he shifted.
The sight of his happy trail peeking out where the fabric lifted made something stir deep in your chest. Or lower.
He caught you staring.
“What’re you up to?” he asked, though his attention was still half on the screen, his eyes half-lidded and heavy with the kind of lazy contentment that came after a full stomach.
You didn’t answer, not with words anyway. Instead, you padded over, slipping onto the couch beside him, close enough to feel the warmth radiating from his body.
He raised a brow at you but didn’t protest when your hand wandered to his thigh, fingers tracing lazy circles over the soft material of his joggers.
“Oi,” he said, his tone half-hearted. “Match is on.”
You ignored him, shifting to straddle one of his legs as you leaned in closer, your hands drifting upward.
The hand that had been holding his beer came down to rest on your hip, his fingers flexing instinctively as you worked your way higher, fingers slipping under the waistband of his joggers.
“Still watching?” you teased, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth.
His eyes flicked to you, the usual sharpness dulled by the beer and the game. “You’re not gonna let me, are you?”
You smirked, tugging gently at the band of his boxers. “Not a chance.”
He sighed like he was put-upon, but there was a slight upward twitch of his lips as he leaned back against the cushions, his body going slack. “Go on, then. Don’t let me stop you.”
Taking that as permission, you slid his joggers and boxers down enough to expose him, the soft, warm skin of his stomach rising and falling under your touch. His happy trail led downward, drawing your attention like a line you were all too eager to follow.
Simon didn’t say much as you leaned in, pressing kisses along his lower stomach, but you felt the subtle shift in his breathing, the tightening of his hand on your hip.
His body wasn’t all hard lines and sculpted muscle. He carried himself like a man who’d earned his softness, a blend of broad strength and the comfortable weight of someone who lived his life without worrying about perfection.
As your mouth traced along his happy trail, Simon’s head tilted back against the couch. His eyes fluttered shut for a moment before opening again, lazy and half-lidded as he glanced down at you.
His cock began hardening against your cheek, the sight of it making your mouth water. His hand found your jaw, his grip firm, tilting your head just enough for him to guide you where he wanted.
You started slow, dragging your tongue along his length, tracing the veins and swirling around the tip.
A low, throaty groan slipped from him, his hips shifting slightly as he watched you through hooded eyes. His thumb pressed into the curve of your cheek, his grip a little rougher now, sending a rush of heat through your core.
"Don't tease," he muttered, his voice carrying just a hint of warning as his hand tightened on your jaw, holding you steady.
You smirked up at him, letting your lips wrap around the tip, taking him in shallowly before pulling back just to feel the weight of his cock against your tongue.
The way his grip shifted on your jaw, the small hitch in his breath, told you he wasn’t going to let you set the pace for long.
“Enough of that,” Simon said, his thumb brushing along your cheek briefly before he used his grip to push you down onto him. His hips lifted slightly, and he groaned as you took him deeper.
You let him guide you, your hands resting on his thighs for balance as he started to control the rhythm. His cock filled your mouth, stretching your lips as he pushed in further, groaning when he felt your throat flex around him.
His grip on your jaw was firm, his thumb and fingers pressing into your skin as he moved you exactly the way he wanted.
"That's it," he murmured, his eyes fixed on the way your mouth worked over him, your lips wet and swollen as you hollowed your cheeks. His hips rolled in time with your movements, each thrust deliberate, controlled. "Look at you. Taking it so well."
Your throat burned slightly as he pushed you down to the base, holding you there for a moment before letting you pull back just enough to breathe. He groaned again, low and guttural, as your tongue dragged against him on the way up.
“Fuck, love,” he hissed, his grip tightening as he pushed you back down, forcing you to take him again. Simon's movements grew rougher, his control slipping as he used your mouth for his own pleasure.
His stomach tensed, the soft curve of it flexing each time his hips lifted off the couch.
You looked up at him through your lashes, meeting his gaze as you let him drive himself deeper.
The sight of his half-lidded eyes, the flush creeping up his neck, made you squeeze your thighs together. He was unraveling, and you loved every second of it.
Simon’s jaw clenched, his fingers flexing against your jaw as he thrust into your mouth one last time, groaning deeply as his head tipped back against the couch.
His grip on you eased, his hips slowing as he pulled you off him, letting you catch your breath.
Simon smirked, thumb brushing over your swollen lips. “Knew you’d be good for me.."
Mathis (OC) x Fem!Reader
Words: 902
Rating: Everyone
Ok it's been a hot minute since I wrote some x Reader stuff! By this I mean almost like... 5+years? Anyway, I'm about to dip back into it because of my boy, Mathis. I want to write reader fic with him (and not only female, but also male or gender neutral) and so here have one. I'm a little rusty so I didn't push too much. It was an idea given by @cloudofbutterflies92 ❤️
Supporting your local stores is always nice and the first option he grew up with. Even though it wasn't from his hometown but just the town near his base. Another thing about local small businesses, they rarely have a big rotation in their employees. Anyone who worked there would stay for as long as possible. Either new job opportunity or retirement. It’s easy to notice when someone is new.
Mathis entered the cafe at his usual hour. A few customers who were also regular waved at him. He walked up to the counter expecting to see the usual barista, but indeed he was surprised to see a face he hadn’t seen before. He leaned on the counter, waiting for you to turn around from restocking on the shelves. “Hey, new around here?” He smiled.
“First day, yes.” You replied offering the same smile. “What can I get you?”
He straightened his back, still looking rather relaxed. “My usual; a coffee with sugar to go.”
“Sure!” You went to prepare his order. Mathis found it amusing how you were more professional than he was used to with the previous barista. The way you moved around, preparing and grabbing everything, definitely looked like someone who was trying her best to not fuck up on the first day.
“So, what’s your name?”
“Y/N.” You replied with half looking at him, half making sure the coffee wasn’t about to overflow the cup.
“Just moved in town or I simply never saw you before?”
“Move a month ago. I needed time to get my bearings.” You handed him his coffee. Only now did you take a better look at him with his brown eyes and darker brown hair. It looked like he had a small beard that was slowly growing after shaving a few days ago. It took you a second to realize that he was about to leave, without paying! “Hey! You didn’t pay!”
“Put it on my tab. Captain Vermeulen!” He waved exiting the café. You raised an eyebrow taken aback. You never really had anyone have a tab before. But when you asked your boss about it, he said that it was fine and to note it down. At the end of the month, he will get his payment for sure.
****
This was your first encounter with Mathis. It took you only three weeks to understand his routine. It was to the point that he would walk in and his coffee was ready. Not even a single word was exchanged some days. Then one day he stopped coming. You kept his order warm almost all day, but Mathis didn’t show. You worried for a moment, till you remember that he was a soldier. Well in the big lines. Between his rank and him straight up saying he was working in the army you figured that much. He never opened up more about what exactly his work was. After a week of nothing seeing him, you guessed that he had probably been deployed or sent on mission.
It was late in the afternoon, almost near the end of your shift, when the door opened with the now background noise bell. You finished cleaning the table, your eyes lifted to see a very familiar man walking in. Mathis looked like he woke up ten minutes ago. Tiredness was lingering on his features. He ran his hand on his face to wash it off with a small groan. His eyes opened back, seeing you for the first time. He can’t help but have a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.
“You were gone long enough.” You teased him.
“Business trip.” Mathis shrugged off.
“Do those ‘trips’ last as long as this one normally?”
“Sometimes they are longer. Much longer.” He cleared his throat. His expression clearly showed that there was something more he wanted to talk about. He wasn’t sure how to bring it up. He raised his hand which was holding a small bag. “I got some pastry from the bakery next door. Want to share one with me and coffee?”
You raised an eyebrow slightly surprised, but agreed. Your shift was over and to be honest with yourself you did miss him. It would be nice to catch up again. Mathis grabbed a seat to a table next to the window as you came back with two cups. He gestured at you to choose from the pastry he bought before he dug for one himself. The two of you chatted about everything and nothing. Mostly you doing the talking as he kept his stories more vague and private. You did notice his eyes never left you. You swore you could have talked about the weather or any boring subject and he would still look at you with these eyes. He was so captivated by you. You decided to tempt something.
“So, captain.” You used his rank with a teasing tone. “Have you missed me?”
This took him out of whatever trance he was in. Mathis cleared his throat… and there was a taint of blush on his cheeks? He rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah. I did think about you here and there, if I have to be honest.”
“You did?”
“Hard to get such a pretty woman out of my mind.” He smirked.
Oh. Now it was your turn to feel your cheeks heat up. “Well I miss you too.”
hello! Bit of a random request here but if you’re open to Connor requests would you be ok doing one about how he would be with a s/o (established relationship) if they’d been out the night before maybe for a friends party and had a horrible hangover the next day? 😂 like how he might take care of them and stuff?
Lazy Days - Connor x Reader
Here you go! We love a caring Connor :3 I have received your requests, just juggling them and work atm so they should be out soon hopefully! Hope you enjoy <3
"Connor, ___ is wasted. I think - hic - think you should get them home." Gavin spoke, his words slurred and stumbling over themselves. He slung his head back as he downed the rest of the sleazy canned beer.
"I agree, perhaps they’ll be docile enough now to listen to reason and come home." Connor replied, watching as you tried not to fall asleep at the table, a can of drink tipped between your fingers as it had slipped from your grasp.
He'd tried to get you to leave earlier, however you were set on beating Gavin at beer chugging. Gavin had come out on top of course, being the drunken ass he was. Yet another thing he'd have to hold over your head and tease you about at work.
"C'mon, I'll help ya out-" Gavin started, only for Connor to guide him onto a nearby couch. Normally Gavin would deck the android just for touching him, however the alcohol had made Gavin unsettlingly friendly.
"You are far too inebriated to help; I can handle it from here, detective." Connor insisted, lifting you up and resting the majority of your weight against his side.
"Connor, baby, I'm fiiiiiine!" You started, only to be cut off as Connor started walking towards the door. "You're a - hic - party pooper." you groaned as you booped the android on the nose, your finger slipping down and poking him in the mouth. You drunkenly waved a strained goodbye to Gavin before Connor led you stumbling out to the car, passing out as soon as you fell against the backseat.
As soon as Connor had you in the door, he swept you up and carried you towards the bedroom, laying you down and removing the uncomfortable outfit you'd chosen for yourself. He replaced the dirty clothes with one of his t-shirts and some shorts before making his way out to the kitchen to fetch you a glass of water.
Upon returning, he found you passed out face-down on the bed. Sighing and shaking his head, Connor climbed into bed and pulled you against his chest, stroking your hair as he laid awake watching over you.
"Connor..." you groaned, shielding yourself with the blankets as blinding rays of sunshine invaded the room. You heard him snicker at your unwillingness to wake up, the bed sinking with his weight as he sat down behind you, his legs crossed in a child-like fashion.
"It's almost midday ___, you should get out of bed." Connor advised, poking your back gently. He was met with a grunt in response, the bedsheets shrugging away from his touch.
Hesitantly, he gripped the edge of the covers and pulled them away from your face, greeted by your squinting - but displeased - eyes. You glared at him as he reached out a hand, taken by surprise when he poked you on the nose.
"Boop."
"What the fuck, Connor?" you giggled, sour demeanour quickly evaporating as you sat up. You were about to poke him back, only for a sharp pain to erupt in the side of your temple.
Your head thumped with an otherworldly pain, pressure growing against either side of your ears making them grow hot. Your world spun as the sudden urge to vomit rose in your throat.
"Shit, Connor I-" you shot out of bed, racing for the bathroom as quickly as your feet could carry you, making it just in time to hurl into the porcelain bowl.
Shuddering from the sudden wave of cold that washed over you, your fingers gripped against the toilet as you continued throwing up. Tears blurred your vision as your heart raced, only to be subdued by a calming hand against your back.
Connor gathered your hair up into a make-shift ponytail in his hand as he rubbed your back with the other. His presence made this unpleasant ordeal slightly more bearable, finding yourself sinking backwards into his embrace as the remains of last nights drinks left your stomach.
"That's it, you're okay now." Connor soothed, continuing to rub up and down your back. He allowed you a moment to recover before lifting you into his arms and carrying you to the bathtub, carefully laying you down in it and undressing you.
You sighed as hot water poured into the tub, lapping welcomingly against your aching body. Reaching out for Connor, your fingers grasped pathetically at the sleeve of his shirt in an attempt to drag him into the tub with you.
He smirked at your attempt, pressing a kiss to your forehead as he whispered for you to be patient before walking out and returning with a clean set of clothes and some towels.
Connor sat down beside the bath, pressing a warm washcloth against your forehead as he cleaned your face of any remaining vomit. You couldn't help but stare adoringly at Connor as he tended to you, how his eyes narrowed in concentration as he cleaned you up, the crinkle of his brow as he scanned you for any other needs. That single, stubborn strand of hair that fell between his eyes that you found absolutely perfect.
He was beautiful.
"___? What are you staring at?" the android asked, tilting his head in wonder. A soft smile crept along your lips as you replied, caressing a hand against his cheek.
"You, Connor. You're gorgeous, in every way." You caught the twinkle in his eye as surprise overwhelmed him. For a moment Connor was speechless, his LED spinning in amber circles as he tried to think of a response. Instead, he found the most fitting thing to do was to kiss you; his soft lips pressed against your own, chapped and dry as a hand crept up to cradle the back of your head, fingers curling into your tangled hair.
"Come on, let's get you dry and into bed." Connor spoke, breaking the kiss before it got too heated. You whined as he pulled away, the sudden lack of his touch leaving an empty void behind. The android helped you up and wrapped a towel around you, allowing you to dry yourself before handing you a set of clean pyjamas. Your eyes lit up as you realised today was definitely going to be a lazy day.
Nestled up against Connor, you laid in bed flicking through channels on the tv. He'd brewed you a cup of warm herbal tea to aid your headache and subdue the nausea. His hand sat against your waist, fingers running lazily up and down your hip.
His heat radiated across your entire body, warming you from your chest to your toes. On cold days like this, you wanted nothing more than to spend all day in bed with your favourite android.
"Connor?" you asked, looking up at him. He hummed in response, returning your leaning gaze as he looked down at you - his brow was quirked in curiosity.
"Never let me try to out-drink Gav again." Connor chuckled, pulling you closer against him and pressing a gentle kiss against your lips.
One of Johnny's favorite things to do was show off his strength to you.
Whether that means carrying something heavy for you, showing off the way his biceps flex and bulge, or bringing you to work out with him- it takes a lot to convince you to come but it's all worth it to see the way your eyes drift around his body.
The two of you lay on the couch together -watching a movie- wrapped in each other's arms, legs tangled, as your head rest happily against his chest.
The sound of his heartbeat reverberating against your ear distracts you from the movie and has you yearning to sleep. Your eyes open and close while you attempt to focus on the movie that Johnny has been waiting to watch with you. He had been so excited to show it to you but the way his hand rubs lazily against your back, fingers tracing shapes against the cloth of your shirt, only lulls you closer to a peaceful slumber.
Almost as if he could sense your drowsiness Johnny strains his neck to take a peek at you; he smiles at the sight of you against him, your lips parted from the way your cheek is pressed against his firm chest and eyes slowly drifting closed despite your best efforts, God he is so in love with you.
He moves the hand rubbing your back to wrap a finger in a piece of your hair twirling it around and gently tugging on it, "Tired, love?"
All you can manage to do at that moment is whine and dig your face into his chest a little more. The chuckle that leaves him vibrates against you and it makes your lips quirk up the smallest amount.
"To bed then?" You nod and go to lift yourself from him but before you can even think about putting your socked feet against the hardwood floors of the apartment you're lifted into Johnny's arms as he lifts himself from the couch, groaning a little from how his body aches from laying on the cushions too long.
Even though you snake your arms around his neck -as things like this weren't new- your brows furrow with irritation, though it's fake as can be.
One of your hands cups the back of his neck so you can pinch at and play with the short hair of his Mohawk, "I can walk you know, I'm not a baby," You pout a little as you say it but that's fake too.
Johnny just smiles, kissing your temple with a few pecks.
"Choices have consequences" and the choice is you trying to sneak a kiss on Ghost's cheek one of the rare times he's got the mask hiked up, a cigarette nonchalantly hanging between two fingers, both of you enjoying a break outside, leaning on a wall.
Except he turned towards you right at that moment.
The silence is defeaning as you both stare at each other in utter shock, your face warmer than should be humanly possible after accidentally kissing on the mouth Simon fucking Riley. His cigarette lays on the ground, forgotten.
And the consequences? It's your lieutenant grabbing you by the scruff when you try to flee, because where do you think you're going? If you wanted a little snogging, all you had to do was ask. He can give you much better than an accidental peck.
And if you two end up in a dark corner, you stuck between him and the wall after he hoisted you by the thighs so you'd be more accessible, his scarred lips devouring any inch of your neck they can get to, despite your pleas that you’re going to get caught, well... you started it.
price with reader who never got much attention as a kid/growing up??
very self indulgent but hear me out. price is a lover man. he takes his time for his partners, gives them what they need, even if he's busy. you on the other hand are simply used to being put aside, people only listening to you half heartedly, not looking at you and getting distracted when you talk, other things were always more important than you and you felt that. you got used to it, it's normal to you.
but when you're with price he's the total opposite. he looks at you intently when you talk (if not hes leaning his head towards you so he hears you better), putting things down when you ask him something - hes attentive. he listens. and its absolutely strange to you, it makes you feel flustered, kinda watched. at some point you ask him why hes looking at you like that, the tv running in the backround. he furrows his eyebrows at you, with a confused chuckle. "what do you mean, love?"
"you're starin' at me." you accuse him, your cheeks getting hot.
"you're talkin' to me. where else would I be looking?" he jokes with a soft chuckle, wondering what the hell you're on about.
"your show's on." you say, gesturing to the tv. he looks at you like youve got three heads.
Simon never thought his body was anything special—not really.
He's just keeping fit because it's part of the job, sweetheart, so body worship wasn't on his bingo card when you invited him over for some rest and relaxation.
Well, not his body, yeah?
Your eyes lit up like it was fuckin' Christmas when you saw him. Simon had just gotten out of the shower, hadn't really had time to put his towel on, and what the fuck is it with him losing track of time when he's with you? All Simon remembered was hearing you mutter "Bloody hell..." under your breath (heh, he's rubbin' off on ya) and next thing he knows, Simon's laying on your bed. Naked. Under you. Wait a fuckin' minute—
His mind goes blank when he watches you watch him; you look at him like he's a fuckin' masterpiece, like he's the most beautiful thing you've ever seen, body hair, cuts, bruises, burns, dents and all, drooling without the drool or what the fuck ever, but shit, it's enough to make Simon's face hot. If he wasn't embarrassed then, he's sure as fuck embarrassed now, and he'd bet every pound he had that knobhead Johnny would have a field day with this.
It's the way you kissed, nipped, and sucked everywhere you could (Christ, you even played with his nipples), making him feel so good, making him feel so bloody seen. Rough skin against your softness, and he's never felt so self-conscious before. You were so damn careful with his latest set of bruises, so fuckin' kind and considerate that he felt his heart jump.
It's the way you ran your hand down, all the way fuckin' down, until it wrapped around his cock. His cock that you're lazily stroking, his cock, hot, heavy, leaking, just... what the fuck are you doing to him?
It's the way you kissed Simon's Adam's apple, soft, gently, and he was afraid to swallow because he thought he'd lose something but he sure as hell felt the goosebumps on his skin and shivers run down his spine.
But it's the coup de grâce, you swopping down to kiss the scar dangerously close to his lips, that shatters Simon completely. Breaks him down so fuckin' much that he's practically holding on to you for dear life. He leans against your touch, wonders what the fuck it would feel like to have your lips against his, and he barely registers the fact that he came, not earth-shattering but a warm blanket over him, and it feels like his very first time.
Fuck, this should've been his very first time.
"Aw, you do turn bronze when you tan, Simon!" He looks down, takes inventory of his tan lines (when has he ever lied to you, sweetheart?), looks up at your beaming smile, snorts, and rolls his eyes. If this were anyone else, he'd probably be pissed that the mood was broken.
It's you, though, and it makes everything feel right.
price is an accident, you fall asleep watching a movie with him after he cradles you in his bed. plops down with you to do some paperwork and he's out, too. you wake up cuddled into his chest and pretend not to notice his boner.
next it's johnny. you're both exhausted from sparring and workouts. instead of showering, he pulls you to his bed and tells you to wait for him before you get in. by the time you want up, the sheets are crusted with sweat and soap is on top of you, crushing you to the mattress.
after that, it's both johnny and kyle. smooshed between them after a long hard mission, it's hard not to appreciate two nice pillows. simon has the picture of you three asleep on each other.
kyle finds you in the mess hall after, pulling you to your room with the promise of takeout and uninterrupted rest.
simon is standoffish at first, but eventually offers himself up as a weighted blanket for you after being reprimanded by another force's captain (don't worry, price and gaz are handling it). he lets you hold him close while stroking your hair and face until you drift off. he frequents in odd hours with you (when he knows your alone or stacked up with another one of the boys).
you don't mean for it to, but it becomes much more regular. price pulling you into his lap during late night briefings, soap's head in your lap, and kyle following you back to your room. they get so much more casually affectionate- hands on you at all times, forehead kisses, and sweet words. they begin to take you out together after missions and on off days to movies and shopping (they love dressing you up).
this all builds up to a random friday where they bring you to a house about 30 minutes from base. lately, they'd all been a bit more secretive and making investments "for the wellbeing of the team" like price's new truck that could seat 7. the house has all five of yours stuff in it (ash trays, half finished sketches, sewing kits, kyle's hat on the table). you see some of your missing clothes in one of the big dressers half-opened drawers.
it shouldn't be a surprise to you then when you walk in the bedroom and there's a california king. you really should have expected it, hen, they've been courting you for months!
a bunch of coughing and groaning in the middle of the night (yeah... he needs to stop smoking)
random muttering and mumbling from him/you
nightmares. he will literally jump out of the bed which causes you to be startled sometimes (he offered to sleep on the couch due to his nightmares....)
his hands roaming around your body as if he wants to memorize every part of you (he does)
cuddles of course !!! it doesnt matter if hes the big or small spoon he just needs to be with you.
either of you falling off of the bed, at least once in a while
the blankets being left aside because simon says its gonna be 'too hot' (no, he just wants to be your personal heater lmao)
laying on top of each other. yeah, you might end up sleeping with your head resting against his chest.
HAIR STROKING. will stroke your hair until you fall asleep soundly
sigh... drooling. he drools a bit sorry to break it to you guys
a lot of admiring. he'll admire you as you sleep, its the only view that helps him doze off
FOREHEAD KISSES. either you or him. if he stirs awake he'll just give you a small forehead kiss before holding you closer to him (if thats even possible) and dozing off once more
nuzzling. he loves to nuzzle into the crook of your neck :(
tangled legs. his legs are gonna be intertwined with yours oooor one of his leg is going to be on top of yours.
thinking about how gaz is so, so mean in bed :( edging you till you cry and then fucking you dumb on his cock. its almost too easy for him to turn your brain to mush. (mean service dom gaz? BARK BARK WOOF WOOF)
he’s such a tease, had you sit on his lap, kissing you, biting you, made you rut on his strong thigh until the wet patch on your pants became painfully noticeable and you started whining.
he’s reduced you to nothing short of a mess, with fat tears rolling down your cheeks and slutty whines leaving your lips.
he makes you sit between his legs, your back to his warm chest, one of his hands playing with your perky tits and the other circling your clit with such force that it has you writhing in his arms. and just when you're about to taste your sweet release, he pulls back leaving you begging for more.
“no, no, no, please, kyle–” you hiccup, reaching to grab his wrist, but when he slides his middle finger inside you cant help but whine as the last of your resolve crumbles.
the filthy squelch of your pussy makes him groan loudly and he throws his head back.
“fuck, hear that, darling?” he whispers in your ear and you can hear the bite in his tone, he’s enjoying this (too much for his own good), toying and teasing you, it’s his favorite. you nod helplessly, letting out a combination of a moan and a whine as he adds another finger and all you can do is rock your hips against his hand. “all of this for me, yeah?”
broken moans bounce off the walls once he curls his fingers inside you and you let your head fall back on his shoulder, gasping for breath. he leans down and takes this as an opportunity to kiss you, slipping in his tongue when you moan. his pace is bruising as he assaults at the soft, spongy spot that makes you putty and pliable in his arms. you claw at his wrists, but he’s too focused on his job, thrusting and curling his fingers at a rate that has you sobbing.
he pulls back, finally giving you a chance to breathe but it's useless as his other hand reaches down to rub your clit and you all but weep, the pleasure is too much for you, you poor little girl, and you think you stop breathing as white hot pleasure shoots through your body.
“there we go, darling.” he holds you as you fall limp into his arms, pressing kisses to your neck, but his movements don’t stop even as your legs tremble and you sob, burying your face in his neck. he continues his ministrations, mercilessly rubbing your clit and thrusting his fingers, as you ride your high.
“fuck– look at that, such a good girl for me, darling.” you cunt squeezes him at that, he chuckles. he doesn’t stop there though, he makes you cum again and again and again and again until you’ve lost count of the amount of times you’ve drenched his fingers with your slick.
and when his fingers finally leave you empty and you whine at the sudden loss, but before you can even notice, he has you flipped around with his bicep wrapped around your neck secured in a headlock.
“kyle,” you sob, its as if you don’t remember any other words but his name, your hand reaches for something to hold onto and they latch onto his arm.
“be a doll, and,” he lines up his cock at your entrance, teasing and rubbing it against your lips, making you whine and push your hips back, “take it for me, yeah?” he says before pushing his cock into you all at once, and that, violently shoves you off the edge once again, you come undone, trembling and sobbing in his grip as he kisses your tears and praises you on how you're such a good girl for him, taking him so, so, well.
“fuck, please kyle.” you beg, nails digging into his arm.
he definitely doesn’t go easy on you now, hips bucking into yours at a bruising pace that has you transcending to another dimension. he loves you like this, all cockdrunk and teary eyed, his pretty girl.
with every thrust he knocks the air right of your lungs and you’re too breathless, too delirious, too far gone drowning in pleasure. your cunt is squeezing him too tight and so, when he reaches to play with your clit again, you scream, melting into a puddle.
“no, no kyle, ‘s too sensitive–” your legs feel like jelly.
he shushes you with a particularly hard trust and you sob. gradually, his pace quickens, and he moans in your ear, his grip on your neck tightening.
“fuck, you're drivin’ me crazy, darling.” he gasps, and like clockwork, your cunt squeezes him again. “made just for me, yeah?” and again.
“shit– baby, i'm gonna–” and when he finally cums with a loud whine, punching himself impossibly deeper into your core, you feel his release coating your walls and it tips you over the edge again, feeling the familiar lull of pleasure invading your senses.
you feel kyle press a chaste kiss to your temple before your vision fades to black.
obviously, mr perfect gives the best aftercare don’t worry, and if you can’t walk tomorrow, he’ll carry you everywhere <3
i wrote this @ 2 am on my period ok. dont judge. this man makes me go feral.
you nudge soap one night, and he turns to you with sleepy eyes.
“s’wrong, bonnie?”
you tell him it’s nothing. you just wanted to see if he wanted a midnight snack. the man is perking up before you can explain what you meant, smiling brightly and ripping the blanket off the both of you. ignoring your sputters, soap is in between your legs in record time, only having enough patience to pull the cotton to the side before dipping his tongue straight against your clit.
“fu-johnny, i meant food. actual food…” you trail off with a gasp, hurrying to grab at his hair, the suckle of his lips force a shiver through your legs.
“fuck yer food,” he smacks, spitting on your hole, and diving back in. “got the perfect meal right here…”
More Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley coming into your room at night, no words needed. Follow up on my last post.
His hands are gripping your waist and your tummy, but not only that, he’s actually dragging you downwards with all his strength, pawing at you so your body scoots down the bed, onto his face, ruffling the sheets. The sounds he makes are unholy and like nothing you’ve heard. He’s always barking orders, grunting in disapproval. Now he’s moaning, nearly whining into the wet mess he’s making between your thighs, spit and slick everywhere.
You can’t even see him, only faint moonlight illuminating his bulging arms and head snug between your thighs. You still haven’t said a single coherent word since he came in, running a hand through his short hair, tugging in a way that makes his whole body shiver. He can’t breathe and he fucking loves it, feeling the stress melt from his muscles with every flutter of your hole around his tongue, cramming it inside you.
Everything is a haze. You had been asleep, and now your lieutenants stern, usually hidden mouth was enveloping as much of your pussy as it could and just slurping. Your thighs quivered around his head, feeling worshipped with the way his hands pulled and pulled on your flesh to get you closer.
He inhaled sharply, groaning in his exhale as his shoulders relaxed. You were his free therapy right now. It wasn’t even for you, because he moved up your body at a crucial second, unconsciously edging you. An annoyed whine left your lips, but he was quick to silence you with two fingers slipping between your lips, calloused fingertips pressing down onto your tongue.
“Good to me” was the first words spoken. His voice was hoarse, quiet and you weren’t sure if he was talking more to himself than to you, his eyes narrowed as they observed the way spit pooled at the corners of your lips as you suckled his fingers in contentment. It sounded almost like a surprised observation as it fell from his spit slicked lips.
You blinked up at him in the darkness, spreading your legs to accommodate his wide hips as he slotted them between your thighs.
Your hand curled around his wrist and gently pulled his wet fingers from your mouth. “Can be even better,” you whispered softly, an innocent expression on your face that he found cruel because how could you look at him like that? He had to squeeze his eyes shut for a second to gather his bearing before he looked at you again.
“Show me” he commanded lowly, lowering his chin, his expression dark and set like the lieutenant he was.
Simon who married your family when he married you.
He wasn't used to it, the open affection your relatives showered him with. He would die before he admitted it, but he was nervous as shit when he first met them. First impressions sometimes created lasting impressions and he didn't want you to feel torn if shit went left.
And then he met them and "Welcome to the family!" That's the first thing that your mother said when meeting him. Okay.
"Well sit down, baby. We don't bite none," is what your grandmother greeted him with. Sure, why not.
And then it snowballed from there.
He'd never been one for pet names. Didn't really care for 'em until you came along, but every time your grandmother calls him Baby he melts. He bloody fuckin' melts. A huge puddle of goo. Simon realizes why you're so protective of her and he becomes the same way, too. He's her Baby and she's his Girl. He doesn't make the rules, he only enforces them. You can only roll your eyes and shake your head as your grandmother gleefully continues to indulge his sweet tooth.
Your parents, aunts, uncles, cousins, and siblings weren't any better, calling him Son, Brother, Nephew, Cousin and similar, clapping his back, including him in things, inquiring about his wellbeing, and bloody fuckin' hell Simon realizes he actually has a family now whether he likes it or not.
It didn't truly hit him until you two wed and your parents, your mom with tears in her eyes and your father beaming with pride, declared that they had a new son to love.
A new son. A new brother. A new nephew. A new cousin. A new baby.
A new family all his own.
And fuck if Simon didn't feel the lump forming in his throat.
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