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.
my sideblog for reblogs/rambles is @steamertrunk. i’m always open to messages and making new friends!! :))
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content: simon finds out he’s going to be a dad, mentions of childhood trauma and fear of parenthood, pregnancy, f!reader, kinda comfort/fluff with a tiny bit of angst??
wc: 1.6k
a/n: so it’s father’s day in the uk this sunday and i had this idea for a little fic, but… it got out of control. enjoy <3
Simon Riley never celebrates Father's Day. With the pathetic excuse for a dad he had growing up, why would he? There was nothing about that man he wanted to even think about, let alone celebrate.
He has a vague recollection that today is the 'big day'. He saw the cards in the shops, heard the adverts on the radio. They were more like white noise to him, though. Something in the background that he barely paid any attention to. Today is just another day to Simon. There's no grand plans, just a quiet day in with you.
Or at least that what he thought.
When he wakes up, he feels the absence of you beside him immediately. His eyes snap open, his hands reaching out towards the empty space on the bed. The sheets are still warm, meaning you haven't long gotten up. It's strange and he knows straight away that something is… wrong. He wastes no time getting up and making his way into the kitchen, searching for you.
"Love?" he calls, voice rough from sleep. He comes to a stop in front of the kitchen table, his heart sinking at the sight in front of him. You're not there. Instead, there's a letter and a box. Simon's mind automatically goes to the worst case scenario - you've left him. He knew it would happen some day. That you'd get fed up of his quietness, his traumas, his job, him. He's been preparing for it since the day he fell in love with you.
He sinks into the chair heavily, his hand shaking as he unfolds the letter. He's ready to see the words, that you're sorry but you can't do this anymore. His eyebrows shoot up when he reads what you've actually written. The letter starts out with you telling him you love him. That you've gone out because you think it's better if he's alone when he finds out. Maybe that was cowardly of you, but you couldn't stand to be there if his reaction was as bad as you feared.
"The fuck are you talkin' about, love?" he asks to the empty room. Confused and slightly concerned, he places the letter down and opens the box. At first, he isn't sure what he's looking at. A mug and some sort of white stick. The hairs on the back of his neck stand up, like some part of him already knows and his brain is just refusing to accept it. He reaches in, pulling the stick out and holding it up.
It's a pregnancy test. A positive pregnancy test.
"…fuck," Simon says, the word more of a grunt than anything. Now he understands why you left. It is better for him to be alone right now, because he wouldn't want you to see him like this - out of control. He throws the test with a growl, the plastic bouncing against the floor as he grits his teeth together so hard they could crack. His mind races through all the different emotions - denial, anger, fear. How could this happen? He didn't plan this. He didn't want this. A child. His child. That thought sends a shiver down his spine, but he isn't sure if it's from terror or something else.
He runs a hand through his hair, closing his eyes for a moment as the idea of being a father settles in his mind, running through his options of what the fuck to do about it. He could just leave now, disappear somewhere you won't be able to find him. It's a tempting possibility and Simon thinks about it more than he'd like to admit. Then, he remembers that there's other another item in the box. The mug. Reluctantly, he pulls it out and his heart almost stops when he reads what the ceramic says.
"Happy Father's Day to the world's best dad!"
It's like a punch in the face. 'World's best dad'. Simon sits with those words, silent and focused on the weight of them and what they mean for what feels like hours. His fears sit heavy on his shoulders, a million 'what if's' running through his mind. What if he can't be a good father? Or worse - what if he turns into his own father? He can deal with war and bloodshed, but the thought of making you or his kid cry? That makes him feel sick.
He's so lost in his own head that he doesn't notice the front door opening, doesn't hear you saying his name. "Simon?" you call, your heart dropping every second he doesn't respond, convincing yourself that he's left both the house and you. You should have told him the news in person, you think. Maybe that have deterred him from running.
When you turn into the kitchen and see him sitting there, your first feeling is relief. That's quickly pushed away when you see the almost distant look in his eyes, though.
"Si?" you whisper, approaching him slowly. You're not sure if he's about to run out on you, yell at you or accept this. It's moments like these that you wish you you'd fallen for a man who was easy to read, but then he wouldn't be Simon. You hover in front of him, your hands twitching at your sides. "I'm sorry I wasn't here, and I want you to know that if you don't want this, it's okay—"
His growl cuts you off. His head snaps up and you can see that his eyes are a little red, like he's been crying. "Don't say that," he snaps, but not out of anger at you. No, he's angry at himself. Angry that he made you feel so afraid to tell him, that he made you think he would turn his back on you. "Don't… don't apologise, either. I…" his words get caught in his throat, his voice almost cracking as his eyes drift down to your stomach. It's still flat, but the knowledge of what's growing beneath the surface is enough to bring him to his knees.
Literally.
Simon slides off of his chair, slowly sinking to his knees on the kitchen tiles in front of you. His hands shake slightly as he reaches up, resting his palms over your belly like it's something sacred. You can see the storm of emotions in his eyes: fear, wonder, awe and… happiness? You really weren't sure what to expect, but it feels like you can breathe a little easier knowing his reaction is positive. At least to some extent.
"I'm fuckin' terrified, love," he whispers, looking up at you through his blonde eyelashes. It's not easy for him to be honest like this, especially not about his feelings. But he's had a lot of time today to sit and think in the silence of the house. Without you here, it felt empty, more like a prison than a home. And Simon knows that having a child won't be easy, but he never wants to hear the silence again. He wants to hear you. He wants to hear the giggle of a baby, even the damn crying. "I don't know how to be a father. Not like I had a good example to learn from," he admits with a half smile that's laced with pain. You sigh, threading your fingers through his hair and he leans into your touch before continuing. "But I'm going to try. I'm going to make sure I deserve that mug. I swear it to ya.. and to them."
His words have an immediate effect on you, tears gathering in your eyes You can blame it on the hormones, right? Definitely those and not the man currently at your feet. "Oh, Si…" you say, cupping his cheek. "I know you will. I know." It's the truth. He might doubt himself, might see his father reflected back at him when he looks in the mirror, but you don't. You see the man you love - loyal, protective and brave. All things a good father needs to be.
You keep your hand on his face as he lifts your shirt, pressing a kiss against the skin of your stomach. His eyes flutter closed, his breath warm when he whispers. "I've got you, little one. Always." He lingers there for a few more seconds before rising to his feet, a hand cupping the back of your head to press your face against his chest. You let the tears come then, dampening his shirt as he kisses the top of your head. "And I've got you, sweetheart," he murmurs into your hair.
You pull back, resting your forehead against his. You want to tell him that you're afraid, too. That neither of you know what you're doing and that you'll figure it all out together. But you think he already knows that. He can probably read it in your eyes. So, you kiss him instead. A slow, lingering kiss that says more than a thousand words ever could.
"I love you," you murmur against his lips, breaking the kiss to catch your breath. Simon reaches a hand up, cupping your face and catching a stray tear with his thumb. He smiles for the first time today, a real smile that shows his dimple and makes him look younger somehow. You smile back, letting out a little breath that could be considered a laugh. "We're having a baby," the words come out like you can't quite believe them. Like this is all a miracle.
"I love you, too," he replies, kissing your forehead. "We'll work it out, baby. You, me and them." It's a simple statement, but… it's what you needed to hear.
For now, it's enough.
big thanks to my bestie @ofcourseiwillmydarling for reading this as i wrote it <3 divider is by @saradika-graphics !!
i agree with leo vibes, are u into like big 3 or 6 stuff as well? do you maybe have any headcanons for him?
ooooo okay!! so Graves is a Leo sun, Gemini moon and maybe a Scorpio rising?? or at least that’s what i think
random headcanon is that he claims to think horoscopes and zodiac signs are ‘bullshit’ but he secretly reads his weekly horoscopes and enjoys looking at zodiac memes when he should be working LOL
and he’s definitely the type of boyfriend to buy you things with your zodiac sign on if you’re into it <3
the 141's favourite place (or places) to kiss you 💋
Price is a master at forehead and head kisses in general. One of his big hands cupping the back of your head as he leans in to press a firm kiss against the skin of your forehead. He loves when you're in bed together, spooning you from behind as he kisses the top of your head and breathes in the scent of you. Something about a forehead kiss makes Price feel in control, makes him feel like the protector. He knows that he can keep you safe in his arms.
Gaz loves to kiss your hands because it's smooth and such a gentlemanly thing to do. He claims it's the most intimate place to kiss. Whether he's holding your hands while you're walking down the street, he's helping you out of the car or you're feeding him something. He kisses your palm, your fingers and your knuckles. He also loves to kiss the inside of your wrist, right where your pulse point is, feeling the flutter of your heart beneath his lips that gives away how much he affects you.
Ghost is a classic mouth kisser. His lips might be chapped and scarred, but they somehow feel like heaven against your own. He always gives you a long, deep kiss before he goes on deployments, like he's trying to memorise the feel of you. When he gets home he does the same, sighing against your lips. It's a reminder that you're real and alive. When you kiss him back, tongues meeting in a dance as old as time, it proves that despite all his flaws, you still love him.
Soap will kiss your neck at any opportunity. He loves the way you shiver every time. He'll come up behind you when you're getting dressed, pressing a kiss to the back of your neck before simply walking away. The spot where your neck meets your shoulder is his favourite, especially when you're both relaxing on the couch. He'll leave kiss after kiss there, maybe sneaking in one or two bites if you let him. There's something so intimate about it that he loves. No one else kisses you there, only him.
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request: headcanons for phillip graves when he realizes he is in love with you?
this was such a fun request!! not sure if this is exactly headcanons because i got a little carried away with it but enjoy! 🫣
Honestly, Phillip will have been flirting with you for so long before he actually falls for you that it takes him a while to realise it. It probably hits him one day when he sees someone else flirt with you and a hot rage settles in his stomach. How dare someone else try to make you smile like he does? That's when he knows he's in love with you, but more than that… he has to make you his.
And he won't waste any time in doing that.
There's no phase of denial for Phil, no wondering if you want him too. He goes straight to trying to woo you. Huge bouquets of flowers start arriving at your door, a handwritten card with a compliment on tucked beneath a piece of ribbon. Every time you see him, he's puffing his chest out and showing off to you. He's not shy about giving you expensive gifts - jewellery, bags, clothes… whatever he knows you like.
One day, a fancy car comes to pick you up for some extravagant date he's arranged. That's when you tell him that he doesn't need to do all of this. All the showing off isn't exactly the way to win someones heart. This news is like a revelation to Phil. A big slap in the face. What do you mean the excessive flirting, the cheesy lines and the money he's thrown at you aren't what you want? When you explain that it's him you care about, not all the other stuff, his jaw snaps shut as he has the second biggest realisation of his life.
That he's an idiot.
After that, he shows you he loves you in smaller ways. A hand on your back in crowds. His eyes always finding yours in a room. Memorising your favourite orders and the little things you mention you want. Making you smile.
He still sends the flowers and buys you gifts, though. What can he say? His love language is gift giving, doll.
walking into your shift only to find out the new attending is your ex girlfriend baran al-hashimi 👀
content: SMUT MDNI, jealousy, messy relationship??, making out and fingering in a storage closet lol, f!reader
The last thing you expected when you walked into work this morning was to end up pinned to the door of a storage room with your ex girlfriend’s fingers knuckle deep inside you. Then again, you didn’t expect to find out the new attending was your ex, either.
“Baran,” you gasp, her name both a curse and a prayer on your tongue. You hand is fisted in her hair, fingers tangled around the curls you love so much. Her lips are pressed against your neck, her teeth lightly grazing your skin. Every time she crooks her fingers, you moan, hoping no one outside this room can hear you.
Baran smiles against your neck, dragging her lips up to your own. “Shh, baby,” she whispers, kissing you and muffling your sounds of pleasure with her mouth. “Don’t want anyone to hear you, do we?” That’s not exactly true. A part of her does want people to hear, to know that you’re hers.
It’s your own fault for flirting with your co-workers today. After you saw Baran, you wanted to… provoke her. It’s been a few months since you broke up and you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t been thinking about her. Plus, her jealousy was always hot to you.
“Fuck you,” you growl against her lips, your hands moving across her body, roaming down her back and grabbing a handful of her ass to pull her into you. Her fingers don’t stop, but you hear her groan as she breaks the kiss.
She presses her forehead against yours, both of you breathing heavily. “Already doing that, aren’t we?” she teases, but her voice is thick with desire. The fire between the two of you has always burned hot, hot enough to hurt. “C’mon, baby… let go for me,” she whispers, her thumb slipping to rub circles over your clit.
The added stimulation makes your back arch away from the door. You bite down on your bottom lip hard enough to draw blood, quieting the moans and cries of her name that are threatening to escape you. Your pussy clenches around her finger as you fall apart, a shudder wracking your entire body. She always could play you like an instrument.
Baran could watch you like this all day. Eyes glazed over, skin flushed, chest heaving... it's the same image she's pictured every time she's touched herself since you left. And now she has you back in her arms, she isn't planning on letting you slip away again this time.
With a soft pop, she pulls her fingers from you and brings them up to your lips. You flick your tongue out automatically, tasting yourself. She moans, eyes dilating at the sight. "Good girl," she purrs, pulling her hand away and fixing your clothes. Trying to make you at least at little respectable for when you walk out this room.
call of duty - simon ghost riley, john price, kyle gaz garrick, john soap mactavish, könig, phillip graves, valeria, kate laswell + nikolai
the pitt - michael robinavitch, jack abbot, frank langdon, cassie mckay, baran al-hashimi, trinity santos, mel king, dana evans, samira mohan, victoria javadi, parker ellis, jesse van horn + brendon park
sons of anarchy - jax teller, opie winston, juice ortiz, happy lowman, tig trager + chibs telford
the walking dead - rick grimes, daryl dixon, + negan smith
andrew ‘pope’ cody
joel miller
ships - can't list them all here, but i have written ghoap, pricegaz, poly!141 and rabbot. happy to write others!
rules:
i'll write most genres, like fluff, angst, smut... just specify in the ask which you'd like!! this also applies to headcanons and AU's - feel free to get creative!
i'm happy to write both f!reader and gn!reader, but please let me know if you want one or the other. add any quirks, appearance or personality traits you want, or give me free reign
dark topics are welcome, but if anything makes me uncomfortable i will just delete it! don't be shy to send unhinged and horny asks ;)
any homophobic, racist, sexist, or otherwise hateful messages aimed at me or others will be deleted
if there's a character not on my list that you'd like something written for, ask! there's a good chance i'll be willing to write for them lol
Soap who always answers the 'boobs or butt' question with the cheesy answer of personality or heart... but you know the truth
content: SMUT MDNI, basically just Soap being obsessed with your tits, f!reader
Boobs. The answer is boobs. Soap loves them, your boobs especially. In fact, he loves them to the point of worship.
He practically drools when you wear lowcut tops and dresses, no matter how much cleavage is on show. Just a sliver is enough to get him hard. He loooooves leaving hickeys across your chest and seeing them peek out from beneath your clothes. And if you wear necklaces - or better yet, his dog tags - that nestle in the valley between your breasts? Yeah, he's dragging you to the nearest bathroom to take care of the problem in his pants.
When you're at home, your tits are never safe from him. If you're cooking or washing up, he'll come up behind you, pressing sloppy kisses to your neck while his hands slip under your shirt to grope at you. If you're lying on the couch, he's gonna bury his face in between your tits and use them as a pillow. He loves when you shower together or share a bath so he can lather you up, focusing on your chest for longer than necessary.
Cowgirl is his favourite position purely for the view. His pupils will be blown out wide as he watches you move above him like some sort of goddess. He'll either be reaching up to grab handfuls of your flesh, or leaning in to lavish them with his mouth. Likes to pinch and suck your nipples until you squirm. You gave him a boob job one time and he barely lasted a minute. Not that you minded.
So, whenever Soap answers that question with what you know is a lie, you silently roll your eyes. He's a boob man everyday of the week.
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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.
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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.
