JOHN PRICE call of duty: modern warfare (2019)

Origami Around
DEAR READER
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me

PR's Tumblrdome
I'd rather be in outer space 🛸
YOU ARE THE REASON

shark vs the universe

if i look back, i am lost
NASA
Claire Keane

No title available
taylor price
wallacepolsom
sheepfilms

blake kathryn

JVL
No title available
almost home

tannertan36
One Nice Bug Per Day
seen from Malaysia

seen from Australia
seen from Sweden
seen from United States
seen from Sri Lanka

seen from Türkiye

seen from Malaysia

seen from Australia
seen from Germany
seen from Canada

seen from Australia
seen from United States

seen from United States
seen from Malaysia
seen from Australia

seen from France

seen from United States

seen from Australia
seen from Italy

seen from United Kingdom
@tiredstrain
JOHN PRICE call of duty: modern warfare (2019)
Simon makes you cum
18+
CW: smut, cunnilingus, fingering, anorgasmia
Masterlist 🦊
Simon's fingers are thick enough to make it burn at the stretch.
He rarely uses only one. Just at first, of course. Middle finger testing around before it finds a place to slot in and curl. He waves it inside, dancing back and forth with his wrist but never going in too deep, straying from bruising your cervix—knows it's not there that you like it.
Knows you inside out, actually.
a ruined countess (simon riley x f!reader)
victorian london ish, SMUT, virgin reader, dubcon, historically INaccurate, 3.5k wc, gramatical errors abound
same universe as the courtship
quite honestly, life was much better after being ruined in society's eyes.
no more teas with ladies who would smile to your face just to stab you the moment your back turned. no more lords at balls who would offer to show you the gardens, just to accost you the moment you were outside. you could now live out the rest of your days as a spinster, your dowry granted to you on your next birthday, and find a cottage somewhere in the countryside. if boredom proved too tiresome, you could be a governess to your cousin's squadron of children. or maybe-
"daughter!"
you sighed, placing down the periodical out of sight of your mother's watchful eyes then tracking the voice of your father to his study. his hair, what’s left of it, is only getting grayer. but for the first time in the eight months you had been founding kissing a baron in lord garrick's garden, and had faced a refusal of a proposal from said baron, theres something close to elatedness on your father's face.
"dearest, this is lord riley, the new earl of chesireforth. your betrothed."
there goes spinsterhood.
I always adored how huge you draw soap… he’s a big boy! keep it going please (ノ´ヮ`)ノ*: ・゚
❤️❤️❤️ he's got that illusory build (huge when not next to his bf)
a most pleasant marriage (john price x f!reader, minor simon x john x reader)
medieval arranged marriage au, SMUT, reader is a virgin, i did no research i fear, 4k wc
victorian marriage fic
-
The emerald grass below your window, stories high and nearly minuscule, sways as you wait. And wait. And wait.
He was supposed to come two days ago. Your new husband, a foreigner, promised to you by your father in exchange for help to gain his own lands back. Greed begets greed, and while your maids help you change for your nightgown to a favorite dress of light blue, your stomach churns at the thought of the kind of man who would make such a promise. Your father has refused to educate you in any sort of war strategy, but you’re wily enough to know that promises can easily be broken. That the sagging stone buildings of your kingdom, small and unimportant to bigger ones that stomp on it like a bug, are no prize to be won. Why would your future husband want to help such a land when he could just as easily take it?
And so you wait outside of the arched slits of your stone window, your stitching in your lap as you halfheartedly nod to the chattering gossip of your ladies. After tea later in the day, sugar and butter heavy in your stomach, you nearly doze to their droning in your chair.
The clattering of horses wakes you right up.
𝐂𝐥𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐊𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐋𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐒𝐤𝐢𝐫𝐭
You like to rush things. Clark takes things slow until he can’t anymore. (Or, you attempt to seduce your coworker in a series of little skirts, and while Clark falls in love with all of you, the skirts don’t hurt.) 4k words, fem.
˚‧꒰ა ❤︎ ໒꒱‧˚
It’s mildly manipulative, what you’re doing to him. Subtle seductions stretched far and wide between weeks of work, your eyes alighting a moment too long on his lips and his neck and his arms.
You don’t flirt. That’s important. You don’t tell him how handsome he looks when the cold has rosed his cheeks. Won’t mention the poor fit of his gray suit, how it’d look far better on a bedroom floor, or draped across a bathroom stall. Nothing severe. You’re… teasing him.
For no reason, really. It might be frustration, but wow, wouldn’t that be introspective? You know you could never land a guy like Clark, so you pretend. Blah blah blah, it’s all very boring and your skirt is very short.
Alright, it’s not that short. It’s the illusion of the thing. The idea that he could get a glance at something, even though the skirt has an inner lining.
You’re not, you know, obvious about it. Clark might not be looking. But you place your hand on the counter as you reach up with the other for a mug, and you know there’s a stretch of thigh on show if nothing else, heat of a real or imaginary eye on the backs of them as you sigh softly. You genuinely can’t reach.
You settle back on your heels and turn to find Clark not too far away. “Hey, would you help, please? If you can reach it.”
You can’t glean any overt interest from his expression, but he says, “Sure,” with warmth on his lips, like he’d gone to say something else and let it fizzle out.
Clark opens the cabinet door wider and reaches in for a pink mug. It has ‘sweetheart’ written on the side in white, textured font, though the script is elegant.
𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐨𝐥 𝐢𝐟 𝐢 𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝? | 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧
Eddie asks you out on your very first date, indulging you in huge philly cheesesteaks, a vanilla milkshake (with two straws), a largely neglected bucket of popcorn, and a sugary first kiss. requested here. shy fem!reader, 3.2k
˚ʚ♡ɞ˚
I'm actually going to die here, you think morosely.
This was a very bad idea on your part, and perhaps a worse one on his. What possessed Eddie —ripped jeaned, silver-chained, aspiring heavy metal rockstar Eddie— to ask you on a date? Perhaps you'd appeared more formidable outside of Hawkins library than you usually did.
You were in a particularly bad mood after a chilly fall afternoon spent checking the quality of the returns, and the prospect of walking home in the cold was a dismal one. You'd been glaring at nothing when a big, hulking bucket of a van slowed to a crawl beside you, thumping bass leaking from the closed window. It rolled down, the music quieting with it, and out came a head of inky dark curls.
"Hey, sweetheart," Eddie said, pet name rolling around in his mouth, "you heading home? Do you want a ride? It's a long walk."
Somewhere between the library and your driveway, Eddie asked you on a date. You genuinely can't remember what you talked about or how it happened, your adrenaline high enough you could've used it to climb Everest. You do remember the quiet way he'd asked, as though he was waiting for an impending rejection, and his smile bordering goofy when you breathed out, "Yeah, okay."
You rub at the seam of your cream sweater over and over, the pad of your thumb numb. The wind runs through you, ruffling the skirt of your black dress against your thighs. I'm an idiot, you think. Hypothermia might kill you if your racing heart doesn't.
Eddie holds a similar sentiment, "What the fuck are you doing out here?"
hi babe! could we get something suggestive with joel? maybe he and reader find somewhere to bathe / shower and he gets a bit flustered? would be funny through his stoicism lol. i’m nineteen!
thank you for your request! reader is 20s or older cw MDNI very suggestive/ light smut, heavy petting, joel being a voyeur
The river water is very, very cold. Gooseflesh ripples over your skin and all the hair on your arms stands on end as a small breeze whips past you.
"Christ," you say, startled.
Standing a little ways down the river, Joel waits for you to get out with a hand on the gun he has pointed at the ground. He lifts his gaze at the sound of your cursing and you cover your chest too slowly.
"Sorry," you say, your arm held over your breasts. "It's just the wind. Surprised me."
He clears his throat and looks away.
For fucks sake, you think. At least he didn't see any lower down. Kneeling as you are, the water laps at your navel lazily. You look down at the rush of clear water over the stone riverbed and fight the urge to drown yourself.
Joel just saw your tits. Covered in soap. He just saw more of you than he's ever seen before, all 'cause of a cold breeze.
You wash the soap from your chest and under your arms. You dunk your head in the water and rake it away from your scalp, and when you emerge Joel's watching you again.
You cup your chest. "Do you mind?" you ask teasingly, though you're starting to forget how cold the river is, a hearth of heat lit in the pit of your stomach.
Joel tucks his gun into his belt and starts to pace toward you.
"You'll shoot your ass off," you say, parroting something he loves to say himself.
"Think that's the least of my worries."
know you’ll wear my makeup well - sirius black x reader
cw: gn!reader, just banter, sirius being The biggest flirt in the world, yk the usual
a/n: title from g.u.y by lady gaga. i can’t stop listening to it. this is a result of that :]
sirius black has no issue with makeup. he thinks it looks great on other people, but he’s never been curious enough to test it out on himself.
“siri, can i do your makeup? please?” you ask.
sirius black is suddenly significantly more interested in testing makeup out.
anxious loser gf who’s just having a down day and sweet goofy sirius who just lays by her and rubs her back with his warm hands and lets her be sad <3 and she just loves on him too <3 love u
sirius is the kind of boy who would hear you're not feeling the best and that's it, he's picking you up from work and walking you straight to bed. the two of you would strip down to ur skivvies and climb under the covers, u on ur stomach and sirius half-sitting, a hand that refuses to leave you on the nape of ur neck and ur shoulders n ur back. you don't CRY cry but there's a few tears and he slides down onto the mattress fully so he can be eye to eye on you, push ur head gently to the side and wipe ur tears where they're pooling at the side of ur nose. he'd definitely try to say something reassuring that wouldn't come naturally for him, something movie grand, like, everythings gonna be alright, i got you, and im always gonna have you. he probs wouldn't even understand how much that means to you because he's lost on how to handle it when people close to him get upset. sidenote: everything he knows about love he knows because of james (and remus), so you're getting a big warm meal (as james would) and a sweet treat (as remus would).
baby blurb for remus!! maybe him being mushy when r brings him flowers :p
ily jade
ily baby ♡ gn!reader
"Oh handsome," you drawl lightly, joking but not joking at all, "where are you?"
Remus isn't the type to yell. He waits for you to happen upon him where he's sitting at his kitchen table, a cup of coffee in one hand and a tattered paperback in the other. You let him finish where he is for now, this greeting a familiar routine, and he doesn't notice you have something behind your back until you've already leaned down for a one-armed hug and a quick cheek kiss.
"What are you hiding?" he asks, voice rough as if hewn from a chalky stone.
"Have something for you."
"Yeah? Show me, dovey."
You bite your bottom lip and smile, eyes bright as you unveil his bouquet. "For you, my love," you say, and mean it entirely. He's all of your love in one person.
He takes them in hands so big you'd never guess how gentle they're capable of being. "For me," he says quietly.
Remus' eyes travel over each flower in turn. You adore that he takes the time, that he reaches into the bunch and takes a petal between two fingers.
"They're beautiful. Thank you."
Succinct but entirely appreciative, you have no doubts. Remus puts his bouquet down carefully beside his dog-eared paperback and opens his arms, and you like him so much you don't worry about squishing him as you perch on one of his thighs.
He strokes from the bridge of your nose to the tip with a trimmed fingernail. "What made you think of me?"
"I'm always thinking of you," you confess, cupping his neck, meat of your palm scratched by his almost invisible stubble.
"Mm," he hums. He drops his hand to the bouquet and pulls out a smaller bud with soft, stout petals. He twirls it slowly and holds it out toward your face until the petals kiss your cheek. He's sick with love, you can see it in the way he smiles. Blissed.
You feel similarly, wrapping your arm around his shoulder and leaning into his chest.
Remus inclines his head toward yours until his temple rests against your hairline. "So pretty."
"They are a lovely arrangement," you say agreeably, though you know he hadn't been talking about the flowers at all.
james the typa guy to chase anti-hero bitches :’(
hi, could you possibly write some soft james please? doesnt matter what it is, maybe something where hes comforting r when shes not doing well. thank you, although i completely understand if you dont write this for any reason <3 take care
hi tysm for ur request I did some hurt/comfort about anxiety and friendship, hope that’s okay! <3 fem!reader
You and James have been walking in silence for the last few minutes. Your eyes are far away, out over the water of the lake. The dirt path crunches loudly underfoot and, besides the soft cry of birds in the distance, it’s the only sound.
He starts to him to fill the space between you and eventually works his way up to a croaky rendition of Frank Valli. Your suspicious squint softens at his crackly voice, fondness melting your pretty features. You look much more peaceful.
He offers his hand.
“What’s eating you?” he asks gently, pleased as punch when you take his hand. He squeezes the four of your fingers with his own and is immensely reassured by their familiar weight, their shape.
“Nothing, really.”
He nods though he doesn’t believe you. “Over the bridge or home?” he asks.
You look toward the wooden bridge over the lake’s mouth and shake your head. “Home please.”
He’s saddened but not surprised at your teary eyes on the way back. He sneaks looks at you, perturbed, near distress at the growing glassiness in your eyes, and when the first tear falls a couple of minutes from home he stops and pulls you to one side to wipe it away.
He’s very careful about it, sleeve over the heel of his hand while he dabs at your cheeks.
“I’m sorry,” you say weakly.
“It’s okay. Don’t be sorry.”
“I have something to tell you.”
He feels a horrible skip in his chest. What could you have to tell him that he doesn’t already know?
“Take your time,” he says, frowning at the strangled catch to your breathing. It’s like you’re breathing on manual. Like you’re forgetting to take the next one.
JOSEPH QUINN Stranger Things 4 Bloopers
Drunk!reader and rockstar!remus would be the most incredible thing. It would probably be insanely sweet and fluffy (like everything you write but just especially so):)
yes! fem!reader sorry he's barely a rockstar
"Sweetheart," you say, which is funny — hilarious — for a lot of reasons. The first, sober you won't often call Remus anything so nice. You're too shy for it. The second, you're slurring your words more often than not.
Sweetheart becomes 'sweethea', no r's or t's.
He opens his arm encouragingly and you walk into him, smelling of your lovely perfume and and the unmistakable kick of tequila.
Arm protectively slung over your shoulder, Remus tilts his head back to get a good look at you. "Yes?" he asks warmly.
"I missed you."
He brings his second hand to your hair and starts to fix the mess of it as best as he can. His hands are gentle but stern. You stay very still. When he's done, he strokes the pad of a callused finger down your face. Your a thousand times softer than the grit of a guitar string. He does it again, just because he can.
"I missed you," he says, because of course he did.
You'd been ten seconds away on foot and had felt a half a mile. Maybe because you're especially pretty tonight. Maybe because he loves you. Whatever it is, the gap had felt like an impasse. He's glad to have you back.
And not a minute too soon. The other girlfriend's seem to have egged you on.
"What have you been upto?" he asks knowingly.
"Cocktails, mos'ly."
"I can see that."
Your eyes open wide as they can. You stagger a little toward him and he rights you easily against his front.
"You seem to have overshot it, lovely girl," he says with a chuckle.
"You think so?"
Remus nods sagely. Your nose wrinkles like you might sneeze. He has to kiss it, has to, legally.
Your face relaxes. For a moment, all you do is smile. Eyes lit with happiness under the fog of booze, cheeks appled and eyebrows slowly pinching inward like you're concerned. He aims to soothe your internal conflict with another kiss, this one propped up under you ear and lingering, hand at the small of your back. He tugs you in towards him until you've arched under his touch and burst into riotous giggles.
"Ticklish?" he asks, words vibrating.
"I think I'm gonna need you to kiss me for real," you plead.
"I think I'm gonna have to make you some toast before your blood turns to booze."
Hii! Could u perhaps write something with marauders friendship group x luna lovegood reader please? :)
I love this like... this could be an entire fic. i want three idiots obsessed with one idiot thank u for ur request! ♡ fem!reader
James isn't very surprised when you appear. Used to your quiet movements by now, he doesn't flinch as you sit down beside him with a soundless whoosh. Sirius, on the other hand and on your other side, flinches hard.
"Fuck, babe, can a guy get some warning?"
You turn to him with an adoring smile. "Sorry, Siri. I'm gonna sit down."
Remus snorts. James snickers behind his hand and reaches out to mess with your hair, which is in a mad disarray.
"You haven't been out in the wind, have you?" he asks worriedly, fishing a small leaf from the back of your head.
"You'll catch your death," Remus reprimands.
"Or hypothermia," James adds.
Remus rolls his eyes and dog ears a page in his book before setting it aside. "What did you find?"
You push a hand deep into your pocket and pull out a tattered piece of toilet roll. You unspool it to reveal a shiny purple beetle.
Sirius stands and walks away. James peeks over your shoulder curiously.
"Is it alive?"
"No," you say, sounding maybe a little bit sad. "I was going to try pinning it, now that it's passed. It has very pretty wings when they're spread. It's called a Judas Beetle."
You close your hand suddenly around the beetle and sneeze, a fit of them. When you're done you tear off a small piece of the beetle toilet paper and wipe your nose.
James frowns and curls a hand over your shoulder protectively. He hates when you go out in the cold. You have no gauge of temperature, or if you do it doesn't bother you until it's too late.
"You've made yourself ill," he says.
"Or I'm allergic to the beetle."
"Definitely the second one," Sirius says from the door. He keeps his distance, but his concern is obvious. "You couldn't have worn a coat?"
You sink into James' grip, like a puppy sometimes with how much you like affection. He indulges you by rubbing your shoulder. Now that he's looking at you this close, you look rather under the weather. Glassy eyes, dry lips.
"James," you begin.
"What?"
"You smell like roses."
He looks at the other two smugly. "Rosewater in my hair. Wanna smell?"
You lift your head and smell his hair. "That's nice. Will you put it in my hair?"
"Sure will. Remus, come take over on cuddle duties."
Remus swaps with James. He has no qualms about being so close to you, wrapping an arm around your neck to squeeze you against him.
When James returns you've sunk into the settee and acquired a water bottle. Sirius sits near but not touching you, stating he doesn't want any mysterious illnesses or bugs to transfer. Still, he watches you out of the corner of his eye, and James knows it's his water bottle in your lap.
James sprays rosewater into your hair, listening to you babble about bugs though it's all lost to Remus' sleeve.
if you’re okay with it, could you please write some extrovert bf james and introvert gf at a party and she’s feelin a bit awkward n out of place because she doesn’t know most of the people there? 🥰🥰
him
"I don't know anybody, Jamie," you say at your usual quiet volume.
James ducks down so his ear is at your mouth. "Say it again, pretty girl."
You flush and pick at the hem of your shirt. You can't look at him as you repeat yourself.
"I don't know anyone here."
He pouts as if to say, that's fair.
"Well, you know me," he says.
His face is quickly transformed by a soft grin, his features lit up. You bring your hand to his cheek and stroke the side of his nose with your thumb before remembering yourself and where you are.
He softens further. "I'm not going anywhere, okay?"
"Liar."
"I'm not!"