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soapybutt17 · 9 months

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Night Showers

Summary: A shower, a missing condom, and Soap doing his best to get on his Captain's nerves (the 20 laps around the entire base was worth it). Character: John Price x F!Wife!Reader. Simon "Ghost" Riley. Kyle "Gaz" Garrick. John "Soap" MacTavish. Word Count: 2,168 Chapter Warnings: Smut. Unprotected Penetration. Creampies. P in V. Oral Sex (F receiving). Alternate Universe. Soap just being a little shit for the giggles and all. Unedited as usual. A/N: To the anon that sent me the request, this is for you. I just can't get this idea out of my head and it shows.

Masterlist | Series Masterlist || Request are Open

One of the few perks of being part of the upper ranks were the privilege of having your own time to bathe. But unlike other assholes that prefer being in first, you preferred to be the last one to step foot in the communal showers. You prefer taking your time, lathering yourself up to the perfect suds and savoring every single minute of the cold water against your skin.

You preferred your privacy as much as the next person and practically living in the base, you don’t get that privilege as often as you want unless you were here. It was ironic seeing it was a communal space and there was an off chance another female member of the base would slip back in but it was rare especially at this time of the night where you were certain almost everyone aside from the people on watch duty were fast asleep.

The frigid cold water would have woken you up but the longer you stood in the water, the more did you feel the weight of the day get to you and you were close to falling asleep from where you stood. You were close to ready to finally get to bed and sleep before the following day of drills.

You felt a hand before you realize it and instincts had equipped you to act fast and hit whoever was ballsy enough to touch you. But it seems your husband was faster than you as he held onto your fisted hand. A smirk playing on his lips for catching you off guard.

“You’re not supposed to be here.” You whispered screamed at him at this point. The panic of someone possibly entering immediately crossed your mind and the possibility of either of you (mostly him) getting in trouble for being in the same shower together.

“Locked the door on my way in if that’s what you’re worried about, Love.” He smirked and only now did you come to realize that he was butt naked just as much as you.

You felt the heat on your cheeks at the realization. It’s been far too long since you’ve had even a semblance of intimacy with your husband. With mission and reports constantly pulling the both of you apart, having him so close to you now only brought the much deprived need in you to come back full force for him to see.

“Fucking hell, cold as ice.” He muttered as the water has finally hit his skin.

Your eyes gazed at the bear of a man you had the privilege of calling your husband. The way the water slither against his hairy chest and down to his happy trail all the pent up desire has come and you did not know if you had the mental fortitude to resist him at this point.

“Seein’ something you like, Love?” He teased, his watercolor eyes gazing down at you as he caught you staring.

“Very.” You quipped turning back to the waters to wash away the last of the suds that was still covering your skin. “But I think you already know that by now.” You muttered looking over your shoulder to look down at his manhood alive and awake you to see.

“Most definitely.” He chuckled, his arms found their way around your waist, pulling you further into his torso, his manhood pressing against your back in the process. “And you could feel it right now.”

“John…” You warned. You’ve had far too many close calls with the man in the past, had it not been for everyone’s lack of idea about what was going on between the both of you, you both would have been caught in one too many compromising situation.

“I’m doing nothing, Love.” He chuckled, his hand slowly creeping from your stomach up towards the swells of your breast giving a gentle squeeze before one hand rested against the columns of your neck and the other holding onto your jaws to keep you in place. “Nothing at all.” He purred, lips finding their place against where your neck and shoulders met.

“John not here.” You warned him again, the fact that the doors to the showers were locked did not reassure you at all. You still fear the possibility that someone had seen you then seen your husband walk inside in the middle of the night.

“Where then? Name a time and place.” He propositioned.

“Your room, after you shower.” You finally relent knowing that when your husband was in the mood just as much as you were, nothing would stop him from having you.

“Deal.” He turned your head until your lips met his own in a searing kiss that drowned you more than the water that showered above you both.

Your hand found their way against his wet beard, trying and failing to control his kiss, savoring the first of many kisses he was more than willing to give you for the rest of the night.

Fuck Protocol. Fuck Reputation. You will be fucked and you will make the most out of it.

“I’ll meet you naked on your bed.” He practically commanded you now as he pulled away. Any other time you would have made the protest of him giving him orders the way that he did but you truly didn’t care at this point.

Nodding, you pulled away from his hold. The coldness of his absent touch did more damage than the water ever could. Without even looking back, you had toweled dried yourself and put on your clothes—ignoring the fact that it was your dirtied ones. You’re going to be naked once you’re back in bed anyways and made your way out of the showers and making sure to lock the door behind you in the process.

“God fucking damnit.”

With shaking legs, you peered down at your husband post-orgasm from between your legs as he began searching through his discarded pants. A few choice words escaped his lips as he continued on with his search. It was so unlike the Captain to be this antsy but it was given in the situation at hand.

“What?” You asked, dazed still from your release with just his mouth. You felt the ache on your lips from biting too hard and trying and somewhat failing to keep your moans and whimpers to a minimum.

“Condom.” He practically growled as he began to look around his room.

You blinked as his frustration was now in full force as he began to look around his room for another spare but no luck whatsoever.

“Just fuck me, John.” You whimpered, hand somehow finding their way towards your still too sensitive bud. Keeping yourself sated while you waited.

“But…”

“I’m on my pills, just fuck me already.” You were now practically demanding him at this point. “Please.”

You didn’t have to tell him twice as he dove right on top of you. Slotting himself in between your legs. He pulled you in for another searing kiss. Your arms and legs had immediately wrapped around him, urging him to finally fuck you but he was taking his sweet time—a time neither of you truly had with the night slowly fading into daylight.

“A fucking little menace you are, aren’t you?” He teased, grinding his pelvic bone against your nub. “Just so desperate for me are you?” He questioned, voice growling louder and instincts kicked in as you slapped your hand towards his mouth to quiet him down.

He did not like it one bit as he held both of your hands above your head.

“Did I fucking tell you to touch me, Pet?” He growled against your ears.

“John—you need to be quiet.” You whispered struggling to free from his hold.

“You don’t get to make orders here, Lieutenant.” He whispered against your ears, nipping at your lobe before his lips lingered against your cheeks and finding their way towards your lips but not truly kissing you. “Is that clear?”

“Yes.” You whimpered as his hips dug further into your core.

“Yes what, Lieutenant?”

“Yes, Captain.” You squealed as he finally slipped right into you.

The aching sting even with him preparing you lingered through your entire body. It was always a task in on itself as he held onto you. One hand held onto your own up above your head and the other held onto your leg and pulling it up as high as you physically could.

“Bloody fucking hell.” He groaned. “Fucking tight.” He muttered.

Without another word, his moved his hips, a gruelingly slow but deep pace that had you gasping at each piston. Your legs held onto his waist for dear life and your teeth bit against your lips stopping from any noise from escaping.

You watched all the control leave from your husband’s body as his thrust had gotten sloppy.

“Please…” You pleaded, even when you truly didn’t know what you were even begging for right now. “Please. Please. Please.”

You felt it before you realize what was going on, the spurts painted your insides and the mind numbing shiver that wrecked from your toes up to your head. You moaned, louder than you would have wanted it to be but your husband was quick to silence you with his lips. Pulling you into him, swallowing every moans and every whimper as he continued on with thrusting inside of you.

Finally, your husband had let go of your hands, you winced as blood began flowing right back and the familiar tingling sensation seeped through. He pulled away, looking down at you in the all too familiar adoration that you felt the same for him. You were sated, blissed and thoroughly satisfied from the longing you felt for your husband.

“Are you broken?” John inquired.

A playful smile rested on your face, the context that it was a question he often asked after any of his team were put in a bad spot. It was his own little way of asking anyone and everyone if they were alright.

“Split open, but I’ll survive.” You respond,

He smiled, chuckling at your antics. Before a flip has switch and his hand held onto you pulling you up and turning you until you were on your hands and knees. Without even missing a beat or even allowing you to say anything, he plunged himself right back into you.

“Good.” He chuckled leaning close to your ears. “There’s still more where that came from.”

Breakfast in the mess hall was boring and you preferred it that way. Enjoying your tea and toast and jam in the peace of the table you shared with John, Gaz, and Simon was all you could ask for after the grueling night you had with your husband.

Even from the frequent sips of his coffee, you know he was just trying his best to hide the smirk playing on his face. Last night had been a blur after the third round for you. When your husband was on a mission, nothing could truly stop him from taking what he wants and what he needed from you, you were all the more willing to give it to him if he needed it.

But with that being said, you also knew the consequences of your actions. The ache between your legs and the sore throat you were nursing with your ginger tea. There was also the array of hickeys and bruises that painted your entire body and you did your best to hide as much as possible even in the sweltering heat.

The next time you would even think about sleeping with your husband is when you’re both done with your deployment. Nothing more, nothing less.

“Aye Price!”

You winced, the peace of your own filthy thoughts of last night was ruined by Soap’s booming voice taking most of everyone’s attention (some already used to his morning antics, decided to just ignore him). You looked up towards the Scot and paled at the all too familiar foil packet in his grasp.

“Saw this in front of your room last night. Hope the lucky lady you had in your room was fine being raw dogged for the night.”

You could feel the fury boil from where you sat. You had noticed both Simon and Gaz strategically move a little farther away from where the Captain sat but they had an all good view of the man as he stood and ordered Soap to run the entire base twenty times.

It pissed John even more was the fact that Soap wasn’t all that afraid with his punishment, cackling as he skipped out of the mess hall, the condom still in his hand for everyone to see. Soap would truly not let him live this down.

His eyes slowly turned to you and this time it was you who was trying your best to hide the smile as you took another generous sip of your tea.

The consequence of his own actions it seems.

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pricesbeltbuckle · 4 months

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maybe fluff with price?? anything, really (like headcanons?)

Headcannons - Price

Pairing: Price x fem! reader SFW

warnings: none, fluff

He opens every door for you no matter what. God forbid you try and open your car door he'll race out of the car and get to the door handle before your fingers even grace it especially if it's an entrance to any store he makes sure he's holding it open for you

When introduced you to the squad he made sure everyone addressed you as "Mrs.Price" even though you're not married. He says it is a "Sign of respect" but in reality, he just likes hearing you with his last name.

Now don't get me wrong, he LOVES the cowboy hat rule, and he knows it. But he just finds it cute sometimes when you steal his hat and walk around the base just wearing it.

When you show him a new outfit you just bought or a new pair of shoes his eyes light up. He loves listening to you talk about it and show him the stuff you got, he loves complimenting you.

There was definitely a time when he was yelling at the boys in the meeting room and you walked in just wanting to ask where you could get a snack and he immediately stopped everything he was doing to get you that snack.

He makes sure no one on that base yells at you, literally no one. One time Ghost raised his voice a little and Price caught him let's just say that was not a fun 10 laps Ghost ran around the base.

When Price came home late one night and he saw you were still awake waiting for him his heart melted. You ran over to him to hug him as he wrapped his arms around you and carried you to bed you guys slept so well that night.

He loves making you different dinners and watching your face as you try his different meals, about 95% of the time you love them.

He ties your shoes for you. No further explanation he just does.

When your clothes are wrinkled or dirty he does your laundry and he'll even do your dishes. He doesn't care because as long as you're taken care of he's happy.

He tries to do your hair up and sometimes even braids it. He fails every time but he loves seeing you smile about it every time.

Price has my heart:((((!!!

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wttcsms · 1 year

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something’s got to give ; john price

pairing john price x f!reader word count 2.9k synopsis a relationship bound to fail from the start. content contains creampie, slight breeding kink, age gap (reader is ~21/price is mid30s), slight angst, hurt/no comfort

Ruination is the act of ruining someone.

Ruination is the smell of cigar smoke clinging to his jacket, the same one that he wrapped around your shoulders a year ago when you were shivering in the rain after your father’s funeral. Ruination is him offering you the spare bedroom in his safe house; he’s barely there, anyway, so you can feel free to take care of things when he’s away. Ruination is how sometimes he comes back from missions with a defeated slump in his shoulders and a new scar, and suddenly you find yourself wanting to pay him back for his kindness.

Ruination is John Price.

John ruins you, and you think you do the same to him, but neither of you dare to admit this truth out loud. Instead, the two of you continue to play house together because the other truth of the matter is the fact that within the comfort of these four walls, it’s practically reality.

You cook for him and keep the house clean; you wash the blood off his uniform and keep his bed warm. In return, he strips you of your clothes and him, his morals, and he fucks you so good, maybe it’s making love.

The house the two of you accidentally make a home is located in a quiet neighborhood in the suburbs. Each house is surrounded by a white picket fence and the laughter of children and happily married couples. Rarely do the neighbors ever see you and John together, and as you grip the sheets underneath you, you angle your head to realize he left the blinds open.

It’s the middle of the night because John refuses to come home earlier than seven in the evening, even though sometimes you know he can make it home earlier. You have a sneaking suspicion that the reason behind his nighttime arrivals has to do with the fact that the sordidness of you and him is easier to swallow with the night shielding you both from any scrutiny.

There’s a sick pleasure you get out of having the blinds to the bedroom open. You know that he must have left them like that on purpose because careful, cautious Captain Price would never make such a careless mistake. There’s a different sort of pleasure that you would much rather focus on right now, though, and it’s the kind that derives from having John forcing you to stay down as he repeatedly thrusts into your sopping wet heat.

He fucks the shape of himself into you every night he comes home; it’s no wonder why you feel like a part of him is with you, even when he’s gone, even when he’s in an entirely different continent.

One of his large hands is pressing down on the small of your back, the other gripping one side of your hips as he continues to ram into you like he owns you. (For the most part, it feels like he already does, but you don’t tell him and he pretends not to know how you feel.)

“Missed you, sweetheart.” He grunts out, and you know he must mean it because no man’s dick has ever been harder than one who’s spent weeks pent up and daydreaming about the pretty little thing waiting up for him at home.

Your face is pressed down in the sheets, and you’re already struggling to breathe because you’re no match for his insane stamina nor is conversation possible when he’s balls deep and leaving you gasping for air and for more. Words don’t need to be exchanged, though, because he can tell you missed him just as much. Why else would you be so wet that you’ve left a tiny puddle of your juices on the sheets? The feeling of your tight heat enveloping his cock, the way your slick makes the inside of your thighs shine in the moonlight, the constant wet smacks of him colliding against you — all of it proves how empty you were feeling with him gone. Poor girl.

At least he’s here now to make you feel whole again.

And you do. You feel so complete every time he thrusts into you, cock hitting you in all the pleasure points you didn’t even know existed. You whine out for him, every sound you make muffled by the sheets but he hears you, sweetheart, loud and clear. He knows you so well. He knows the feel of your walls spasming, tightening up on him, suffocating his cock and making him exert himself some more just so he can continue properly thrusting into you. You’re acting as if you don’t ever want him to leave, and as you come crashing down, crying and sobbing into the mattress as your orgasm leaves you too sensitive, John only quickens his ministrations.

He fucks you face down, ass up. It helps him hit you deeper, reach those spots that make you sing and sob so prettily for him, but really, it helps in making things less personal. If you were really his lover, truly someone important to him, he would fuck you in missionary. He would take things soft and slow for you, wring out so many orgasms because bringing you pleasure brings him pleasure, and he’d kiss you on the lips as he finishes inside of you.

The only thing he does that he wants to do is the finishing inside of you part.

He knows it’s a dangerous game. He knows the constant charges for emergency contraceptives must have his credit card company raising an eyebrow. He also knows that you love the feeling of warm cum in your pussy and the danger of his seed taking root.

He’s always on the frontlines of danger; for men like him, there is no difference between a safe house and a battlefield.

That is to say, love and war really is the same concept to him, and he treats it as such.

“Sometimes I think this house is haunted,” you tell him the morning after. Lately, John has been prolonging his stays, even daring to stay for breakfast and sometimes, when he’s feeling bolder and more selfish, he’ll even stick around for lunch.

He sips his tea, before humoring you and asking, “You saw a ghost?” What he actually means is, he’s seen far too many ghosts of fallen comrades that linger by his side when he’s fighting, and he can never tell if they’re there for support or to haunt him. The last thing he needs is more phantoms shadowing him in the comfort of this makeshift home. At this point, it feels like he’s never leaving the battlefield.

“It just makes weird noises at night when I’m alone.” You pout at him, showing your age. You were barely nineteen when your father died — the bullet marked with Pierce’s name ended up lodged in your father’s heart instead — and so maybe John taking you in was done out of pity and a sense of duty. It has since, in the last two years, spiraled into a sick sort of infidelity. He walks around toting a gun, acting as if he has the moral high ground every time he kicks an enemy into the dirt, yet he has the audacity to come back here to cheat on his code of conduct and do the most depraved things to a young woman nearly a decade his junior.

“Well, you’re not going to be alone for a while, sweetheart.”

And he leaves it at that in favor of bending you over the kitchen counter and making you cum twice before breakfast. Because your back is to him, he can’t see the blissed out smile on your face, happiness from the feel of his cum trickling down your thighs and the fact that he’s staying for once.

Falling for John might be the dumbest thing you’ve ever decided to do, but in your defense, it was never your original plan to begin with. Besides, you’re nearly twenty-two now, and your dad is dead, and you think you deserve a little grace and some room to make stupid decisions.

The truth is, you already knew moving in with John would ultimately leave you here (staying up every night, wishing for a man who simply can’t stay, even if he lies to you and himself when he says he’s trying to). Your dad has been buried long enough for him to be nothing but bones and a good memory, and you’ve been playing dumb for far too long.

There’s a thrill to being his little secret. A sick sense of pride that flutters in your tummy and your heart every time you know that he’s avoiding sharing you with his team. And it shouldn’t mean so much to you, but it does, because you don’t have a lot in the first place, so just simply taking space in someone else’s life automatically brings meaning into yours.

In his own way, you know he cares more than he wants you to know. You know that when you’re too exhausted to move your body after he’s fucked you so throughly, he tucks you into bed and makes sure you’re all nice and comfortable. He washes your body for you in the shower, running the soap over every centimeter of skin that’s exposed to him, handling you with such gentle care that there has to be love behind every motion. He cums in you.

That’s usually the only thing the two of you argue about.

In your young, pea-sized mind, having a baby with him is the key to solving all your problems. If you can’t be enough for him to stick around, maybe a child that takes after the both of you can help. It’s a sick line of thinking, and even you know that that reasoning for wanting a child is maybe the specific reason why he doesn’t want to have one with you. The fact of the matter is you’re hungering for a real life, one that isn’t just reduced to stolen moments in the middle of the night, and you think a family will give you the missing pieces you’re searching for. And John entertains the idea of having a baby with you, envisions a daughter with your bright eyes and kind smile, but he can’t bring it to reality because he’s certainly not the right man to build a family with.

“This is stupid,” you tell him, frowning at the pill in the palm of your hand. John is smart enough to watch you take down the Plan B; if he was smarter, he’d have the self-preservation to stop cumming inside you as if he wants to breed you, but he is a man, after all. He has his faults, and the trigger for them just unfortunately happens to be you.

John at least has the decency to pretend like his supervision of you taking the pill is just a coincidence rather than surveillance. Sometimes, it feels like this is what the entirety of your relationship with each other is: hiding behind flimsy lies and pretending that neither of you know the truth. If lying means staying together, though, it’s a price that both of you are far too willing to pay.

“What’s so stupid?”

“I don’t take birth control because I don’t want to, and you clearly don’t want to have a baby with me yet you keep fucking me like you do.” The bluntness of your words cut as sharp as a knife. It’s the most honest observation you two have ever shared together, and it’s this brutal honesty that catches him off guard.

He’s smart enough to read in between the lines, and he knows it’s a dig at him — that what you’re actually saying is that he’s stupid. You're right about that, at least.

He just makes a small noise from the back of his throat, and you don’t have anything else to say on the matter. Instead, you take the pill like the obedient girl you are, and you swallow it dry because you want the acrid taste of it to linger on your tongue and scratch against your throat. You want it to serve as a reminder and an unpleasant punishment for allowing yourself to be strung along by John (and for wanting to be strung along). Besides, you think to yourself, there are worse pills to swallow, like the bitter truth that this relationship between you and John isn’t going to last much longer.

John knows he’s down bad whenever Gaz has something to say about it. Gaz, who is a jokester by nature, but surprisingly more keen and observant than he would like to let on.

“Lady problems?” Gaz says, in that teasing manner of his that hides the fact that he notices his captain has been walking around with a heartbroken expression.

Gaz knows about you. Well, he has suspicions that you exist, and for him, that’s enough proof. His intuition is usually right, and judging by the look Price gives him, he knows he’s right.

“What makes you say that?” John should really be telling him to rest up because it’s been a long night, but he knows Gaz won’t listen, and he also knows that maybe he does need some help on figuring out whatever the fuck is going on with you two.

“You look like my dad every time mum makes him sleep on the couch.” The look Gaz is describing is a man in immense pain paired with a freshly-kicked puppy dog’s eyes and pout. John feels like he’s been banished to the proverbial couch; after the whole entire Plan B fiasco, you haven’t been speaking to him. The cold shoulder treatment has been a long time coming, but it hurts more than he expected.

“Whatever happened,” Gaz continues. “You should probably just apologize.”

Gaz doesn’t ask about you. He doesn’t even get confirmation that it really is lady problems that are troubling Price, but John thinks he’s losing his touch if both you and Gaz — two young people reckless enough to get caught up in Hurricane Price — are able to see through him so easily.

“It’s not that simple.” John tells him, and Gaz shrugs.

“It never is, sir.”

A small part of you gets off on ignoring John. It gives you a tiny semblance of power, as if you have some sort of control in this relationship of yours, but you know this reasoning and this feeling only stems from anger.

You’re angry that he hides you away, and angry that he feels like you’re something that needs to be a secret. You’re angry that you allow yourself to be treated like the other woman even when there is no woman for you to fight for his affections with, and you’re angry that you love him, even during the moments where you swear you’re going to leave him but never follow through.

The reason why his arrivals back home are always a surprise is because he doesn’t bother calling you when he’s on his way back, even though you know there’s a secure line for him to do so. You asked him, once, why he doesn’t let you know that he’s on the way — that he’s safe.

It’ll be too dangerous. Someone might tap the line and find you.

It’s a very smart answer. Sweet enough to make you swoon, convincing enough to save you both from the truth: he wants to keep a good enough distance between you two.

Love is never the answer, you decide. Every moral of the story is how love perseveres, how it saves all, how it’s the ultimate route to happily ever after.

Love is never looking each other in the eyes during sex because you know the truth of your feelings for each other will be exposed, and it’ll hurt, just like an open wound. Love is the way he smiles at you when he thinks you’re not looking, all soft and crooked, gentle and warm. It’s a side of him you don’t get often because he thinks his love is dangerous, and maybe he’s right about that. Love is the silence that stretches between the two of you when you ask him when he’s coming back, and he tells you he doesn’t know, and you’re okay because you think you can survive long enough with just the memory of him and his hands on you.

Love is a kind of warfare, and you’re tired of fighting.

In the end, something’s got to give. He supposes he deserves this. He really did mean to apologize, but he got sent out on a mission and the timing had never been right (when has it ever?), and it’s just the fact that life seems to wear him down the older he gets.

He knows something is wrong when he steps through the door and the house is cold. There’s an emptiness that makes fear fester in his gut, and he knows better than to call out for you because no matter what, every time he comes home, he knows you’re already waiting for him.

(That’s the type of love that can’t be forced, the type of love he’s spent too much time pretending he doesn’t need, doesn’t crave.)

The note you’ve left him says enough, even though he keeps rereading it over and over again, as if more lines will appear. He wants there to be a secret code hidden in the message, but you’ve made yourself clear:

John,

I can’t do this anymore. Please don’t come looking for me.

#john price x reader #john price x you #one shot #drabble #angst #smut #lemon #imagine #cod x reader #john price mw2 #mw2 smut #mw2 x reader #call of duty x you #call of duty x reader #john price smut

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cheezbites · 9 months

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Y/N: (Is spreading strawberry jam on bread with a kitchen knife)

König: “Why don’t you use a butter knife?”

Y/N: “Well, it’s not butter is it?” (Licks jam off knife)

Ghost: “You’re too incompetent to be using a kitchen knife,” (Snatches knife from you)

Y/N: “I’m too incompe-what?”

Ghost: “Point proven.”

Masterlist

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shroomiewrites · 1 year

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Private Lessons || Professor!Price x F!Reader

Professor!Price x F!Reader || 7.4k words || NSFW || 18+ || Minors DNI

Warnings: AFAB reader, explicit sexual themes, alcohol consumption, degradation, creampie, spanking, dry humping, praise, power play if you squint, blasphemous behavior.

⁠✧.*⁠Next chapter || Assignment Tutoring*⁠.⁠✧

Synopsis: You couldn't be happier when your failure of a professor was being temporarily replaced with a substitute teacher, however, your happiness is quickly replaced with panic as you meet your new professor.

The clock ticked slowly. Agonizingly slowly. It usually did when you were seated in the uncomfortable joint seat from the auditorium, behind your laptop as the bright white blank page stared back mockingly at you. Not an unusual situation by any means, that, however, didn't make it any better as you repressed a yawn for the third time in the past two minutes.

Your professor paced around in front of the full board, hands gesturing wildly, rambling about some nonsensical story that had nothing to do with the subject he's supposed to be teaching and you're supposed to be learning. Clearly you were both failing at your tasks, but, ironically enough, only you'd fail at the end of the semester when the lack of attention and study notes came back to bite you in the ass.

The bell finally rang and you felt your body physically slack in relief. Your hands mindlessly putting your laptop away in your bag in a robotic manner from pure habit. Your mind was only thinking about what you were going to eat that evening and how long of a nap could you fit into your afternoon before you had to spend the rest of the day actually studying whatever was supposed to be taught by your incompetent teacher.

"Thank you everyone for coming, and don't forget that I'll be away for an international congress for the next month, so a substitute teacher will be taking my place. As always if you need me my email is–"

Is God real? Or did you just think so hard about having someone that actually knows how to do their job that it you manifested it into existence? Whatever it is, whatever divine entity that allowed for those words to come out of your professor's mouth were sure to be working in your favor and you promised you'd owe them one would you ever figure them out.

Your coffee tasted that much better that afternoon, a taste of accomplishment and contempt that doubly warmed your throat as the hot liquid ran it down.

"Celebrate the small victories," you thought.

If God was real, he was a dick. The absolute fucking worst. Him or whatever other deity played a cheap trick on you when all you wanted was to get a damn good grade in possibly the most boring class in your curriculum.

Given, it wasn't that boring anymore, thanks to the mountain of a man who had his back turned to you as he unceremoniously wrote on the board, clapping his hands softly to rid it of the excess chalk powder before he turned to the class once again.

Professor Price, the words read.

You would've relished a bit more in the absence of your previous failure of a teacher, but you could nearly physically hear the universe laughing at you as you tried to pry your eyes away from the man's giant arms that escaped his rolled up dress shirt, without any success whatsoever.

You were fucked. If you were failing before thanks to your teacher's lack of any teaching skills, now you are failing because the way this man's thighs were furiously trying to break free from the confinement of his pants was making you want to get up and scream about how incarcerating innocent subjects was a miscarriage of justice. Maybe you could throw in some fancy precedent that'd show him you were actually a good student of the law and not just some whore lusting after your own fantasies of being bent over his table and feeling his muscular thighs hit your legs from behind as–

"Morning, class." His thick British accent nearly made you jump your seat, eyes focused on his figure but your mind far away.

His voice. His fucking voice. Hoarse and throaty. Like he just stretched relaxedly, sprawled in bed after a long night and was greeting you with a sly smile on his face. Or maybe you were just a little too deep in your headspace. Either way. It scratched your brain just right, sending tingles down your spine, you watched as he put his hands inside his front pockets, wide stance giving you a perfect look at his broad chest. It probably felt nice to lay on, to place your palms on to steady yourself as you– God.

"I'm Professor Price and I'll be covering this class for the next few weeks as Professor Wilson is away," The way he scanned the room was focused but unpretentious, not in judgment, more like curiosity.

When he glanced over you, stopping to take you in for a split second that you wouldn't have noticed if you weren't making a living out of studying his every feature, you felt butterflies in your stomach. A familiar warmth traveling down to in between your legs as you scolded yourself for acting like a damn college girl, soon reminding yourself that you were, in fact, a college girl. Not that it was terribly on brand for you to lust after your professors, however it was painfully often that you found yourself falling for men that would be charmingly referred to as DILFs. And Professor Price? Was a fucking huge one.

"I hope we can make great use of this short amount of time we'll be together, and I'm here for any assistance you may need. I know this subject can be quite a challenge," he chuckles, deep and rusty, and you make a mental note to check if you need a panty change when the class ends.

The rest of the class goes by so fast you actually find yourself disappointed when the bell rings. Professor Price was as good of a teacher as he was eye candy. Never once had you seen a class so thoroughly focused on a lecture about corporate law, and you suspected a few other students shared your same fertile imagination when it came to your new educator. For the first time in weeks you were actually able to look proudly back at your laptop screen, paragraphs of text and citations adorning the screen. Sure, you had to fight your instinct of drooling over the way Professor Price's back muscles shifted as he wrote on the board, unaware of all the vile, lascivious thoughts that plagued your mind every time he cleared his throat to start a new sentence.

You scoffed putting your stuff away while looking at two girls in class go up to Price's desk, twirling their hair as they asked him a question about the lecture. But you weren't dumb. You saw it in their little mischievous eyes that corporate law was the last thing in their raunchy heads as one of them touched his arm, oh, so accidentally. Please. At least you hid it.

Right?

If you were ever an atheist, you couldn't remember. You were pretty sure God was real and present, but above all else, that he had a personal vendetta against you. Maybe that was narcissistic to think, but you sure got that impression as you recognized a certain pair of blue eyes and combed beard coming through the bar's double door. Because, of course, your male's-underwear-catalog-model of a professor just walked into the place you've been drinking and trying to forget about him for the past hour. And, of course, he's wearing a tight white shirt that outlined his spec muscles so well it might be illegal, not to mention the glasses?! The fucking glasses. Thank goodness he didn't wear them in class or you might've just cum right there and then. He looked so entirely different with them but recognisable still, it was infuriating. Who does he think he is? Clark Kent?

You had plenty of plans for the night. Convincing yourself you deserved a little treat after spending the evening looking through and editing your class notes. His class notes. It was a simple course of action you had in mind, truly. Go down to your usual bar, drink yourself away, maybe kiss a guy or two, go back home and regret it all as you woke up on a Saturday with a massive headache and books to read. But now, your body was getting side tracked. Insisting on traveling the entirety of his body, not feeling a drop of shame as you stopped at his crotch, taking notice of the big bulge there.

Fuck. He was big. You could sense it, you could imagine it and you desperately wish you could feel it.

Shaking your head, you tried to erase the mental image of being on your knees in front of him and focus on the average looking blond guy who had been eating you with his eyes ever since you stepped foot into the place. You were betting with yourself on how long it'd take him to actually make a move on you. Needless to say, he had the rush of a monk. But at least it'd keep you busy as you tried with every fiber of your being to forget your professor.

"Hey," A familiar croaky voice came from behind you,"You were in my class earlier right?"

Now this just has to be some sort of sick joke. How long until cameras popped out from behind the bar and footage of you staring at his dick was all over the internet? Could you just double it and give it to the next person?

"Uh– professor!" You whipped your head, putting on the best sober smile you could, "Yeah, yeah. I was." Maybe that's all he wanted to know, just being a nice, courteous man before he went on his merry way.

"Ha! Knew I recognized ya." He sat down on the stool next to you.

Well now this is just tragic, frankly. Both the way he was oblivious to how much of a mess you were by as much as his presence and how the blond guy was apparently very taken aback by the wardrobe sized man talking to you and started flirting with another girl shortly. Pig.

"How was it? I was a bit unsure on how to approach it, I remember I found the topic so bloody boring in my time, thought I could spice it up a bit." And spice it up he did. Maybe a little too much.

"It was great!" you nodded, hoping he wouldn't ask you to quote your favorite part because right now, the alcohol in your system and his musky cologne wiped your brain out completely, leaving only a deep burning desire to be absolutely fucked senseless, "Professor Wilson is a great teacher," A lie, "but I could comprehend it a lot better with the way you explained it." Not necessarily a lie.

"That's great to hear, then." His smile was genuine and bright, of someone who had no idea that if he ordered you to get down on your knees right there and then you would with zero hesitation.

An innocent smile adorned your lips as you took another sip of your third drink of the night, barely feeling the burn that went down your throat anymore. You were embarrassed, honestly. Being this hot and bothered by a poor teacher who was only putting effort into doing his job right left you feeling like the biggest slut to set foot in town. You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, not missing the way Price's eyes glanced subtly to your legs as your mini dress rode up a few inches.

Just an involuntary reaction, you were sure, or your devious mind was playing tricks in you.

"Recommend me anything?" Your attention turned back to him as he pointed at your drink.

You thought for a second. He didn't look like he enjoyed the fruity sweet drinks you were downing like a mad man, no. He looked like he was more of a 'something strong and a little bitter on the tongue' man.

"You look like you might be into scotch." You note and he raised an eyebrow, a low hum echoing from his lips.

"Read me like a book, I see." His smirk was as amused as it was surprised.

"Try the godfather." The bossy underline of your tone was definitely not on purpose… Grinning to yourself as he bit his lip before nodding and turning to the barista that arrived to take his order.

"Well, ya heard the lady. One godfather for this old man." The barista nodded and you contemplated whether to jump onto the opportunity or not.

Fuck it.

"You don't look old at all," you giggled. Disgusting truly, as low as the girls in his class, but could you honestly be blamed?

The low chuckle that came out of him made it all worth it. Putting one arm on the counter as he shook his head. You noticed how his biceps flexed as he moved.

"You know what they say, 'age isn't a number, it's an attitude'."

Cheesy. Would absolutely turn you off if he wasn't the one saying it. In his voice it became a rather sexy mantra. You wanted to show him an attitude alright.

"Means more experience no?" You brought your straw to your lips, never breaking eye contact. The innuendos of the question were to be judged by God and God alone. You're lucky being horny isn't a crime.

"Indeed it does… in a lot of areas." His gaze was fixed on yours and you nearly choked on your drink.

He didn't– he wasn't… flirting with you? Was he?

"Law?" You asked cheekily, trying hard not to think about the wet patch in your panties.

His laugh was easy and genuine. A treat to your ears, not being able to hold a smile yourself.

"Sure," he concluded, drink being posed in front of him by the bartender.

He thanked the man, bringing the cup up in between you two.

"For learning new things, aye?" You smiled, bumping your cup softly against his, a small clink sound coming from between the glasses before you two brought it to your lips.

And, man, did you learn new things.

You learned his name was John, which you immediately tested in your head about how you'd sound moaning it (pretty good), he worked at a firm in the UK for nearly 10 years before deciding to take up on teaching full time. He'd been a professor for 6 years now, was unmarried with no kids, "My hectic life couldn't hold up a proper relationship," he said.

You also learned he was an avid football fan and loved hiking. Both which explained his top notch physique. Not that you were staring, of course…

"But tell me more about you," he finished his second drink, "You have a boyfriend?"

The question caught you by surprise, erupting something very unholy inside of you. Was this a casual get-to-know-your-student question? Did such a thing even exist? As far as your experience went, professors weren't really going around drinking with their students.

"Uh– no, no. You know, with the whole last year of college thing and trying to find good opportunities it's just… hard to find the time," you answered truthfully.

Not that you were a lonely, sad woman by any means, having your fair share of lovers here and there. Ultimately they all ended the same way, you slowly fell out of touch as your schedules got more and more conflicting. Not that it bothered you that much, you were more than fine with the freedom of being single and the pleasure of an occasional fling.

"I get that," You thought he actually did, "but I'm more than sure a pretty lady like you won't have trouble finding a nice young guy," he stated, eyes looking for your expression.

His choice of words stuck with you. Nice young guy. You stopped momentarily, it could either mean two things — he was giving you a hint that he didn't want anything with you, or… he was trying to see if you were open to the idea. You pondered for a moment, your next words needed to be expertly chosen if you wanted to cover both terrains until you figured out which was right.

You took one last sip of your drink, head slightly dizzy as you thought hard, "I don't know if those young nice guys are really for me, Professor."

The way he sucked in a breath at hearing his title was nearly too much for you, sending you spiraling into your carnal thoughts about moaning it as he spanked you on his lap.

"Have they not been taking care of you right?" There was a dark undertone to his words, a palpable tension as you both tiptoed around the blurred lines, the alcohol serving as a catalyst to send your mind into a frenzy with each look he gave you.

You bit your lip, noticing how his eyes darted down to them, Adams' apple bobbing in a contained gulp.

"Not in the way I want them to." He visibly tensed at your words, veins getting more visible as he grasped the empty glass tighter, knuckles turning slightly white. For a second you were scared he'd bust the cup, fully aware that even if he did, it'd be the hottest thing in the world.

Another second of silence went by and you started to panic. Had you gone too far? Did you step on a landmine in the little minesweeper game you were playing? You were about to backtrack, come up with a bullshit lie when he interrupted you.

"I think it's getting late. You should head home as well. I'll pay for your taxi." Your heart dropped to your stomach. It felt like a slap to your face.

You stood there, mouth agape as you tried to comprehend what went so wrong in so little time. Above all else, how would you still attend his class after this? Maybe you could just retake it next semester? Wait until Professor Wilson came back and tell him you had come up with a mysterious case of the flu and couldn't go to class for the past month.

Your internal rambling was interrupted by John taking his wallet out and laying two bills on the counter, paying for both your drinks. You were about to tell him to stop and that you could pay for your own drinks, feeling embarrassed enough. Before you could, he dragged his arm off the counter, hitting your purse that rested above it to the ground. You watched as he immediately bent down to grab it, grunting an apology.

His fingers curled around the purse beside your leg and he agonizingly slowly brushed his other hand on your leg all the way up to your thigh, where he rested it for a second in a subtle and discreet move. Anyone looking from afar would just think he was giving you back your clutch. He placed the small bag in your lap, being as close to your face as he ever was and you could clearly see the lustful gleam behind his glasses.

"Black Ford, parked on the end of the street. I'll take 5 minutes checking something on my work bag…" He whispered, sending a heat down your body, "If you decide for whatever reason to go there help me…" The brittled tone of his voice along with the mixed scent of his cologne and the scotch was sending you to paradise, "I'll take good care of you, darling."

You definitely needed a panty change. Hell you might've felt your slick run down your legs slightly, feeling cold where his touch was after he took his hands off, nodding a courteous goodbye to the barista before going out the doors and making a right.

Heart stammering against your chest, you took a second to try and think straight, failing miserably. Whatever was left of your logical thinking begged for you to reconsider the idea of getting into your professor's car. But it was to no avail as you slowly got up from your seat, grabbing your purse and walking out, turning right.

The short walk to the end of the street where you thought you saw a black Ford was filled with your anxious thoughts. God, were you really about to sleep with your teacher? Well, he'd only be there for another few weeks anyway, it's not like you were officially his student anyway. Or that's what you'd tell yourself at night to be able to sleep after letting out all of your fantasies with the hot mountain of muscles that currently stared at your small figure approaching the car. You glanced around once before opening the passenger door and getting inside, a small sigh leaving your lips as you settled into the comfortable seats.

Price's eyes were glued onto your figure, unabashedly skimming his eyes over your exposed legs and your chest and neck.

"Drive us somewhere a bit more… private." You don't know where you found strength or courage to order him around, but he clearly didn't mind, smiling and spitting out a 'yes, ma'am', starting to drive out of the busy street.

You took the opportunity of having him focused on the traffic to take him in completely, how his arms flexed as he grasped the steering wheel, how his thighs barely had any free space to move on the small driver's seat and the giant boner he sported. It made your mouth water and you bit your lip, repressing a premature moan from spilling out your lips.

"Like what you see?" He was clearly amused, a side smirk playing on his face as his eyes were still glued to the road in front of him.

"Maybe…" You decided to tease a little, two could play that game.

He chuckled, a small breath coming out of his nose as he wet his lips before talking, "I think you do, since you've been fucking me with those eyes ever since class this morning."

You considered opening the door and simply throwing yourself out of the moving car. How much more pathetic does the universe need you to look?

"Oh. I– well–" He was full on laughing now, a husky, delicious laugh that had you rubbing your thighs together for any friction you could get.

"Can't say I didn't find myself getting distracted by you a couple times, love…" he confessed, taking a quick side glance at you and you felt utterly naked under his gaze, completely exposed.

"You fuck your students often?" Was it necessary? No. Did it please you to see the way he looked at you pointedly, almost angry? Absolutely.

"Who said I'm gonna fuck you?"

The bastard. How dare him. You turned your head in his direction, eyebrows raised in disbelief.

"What are we doing? Private lessons?" He chuckled once more, one hand moving from the steering wheel to your leg, giving it a squeeze. Your breath hitched, biting your lip.

"I'll definitely teach you a lesson." His smile was playful but his tone… he was serious. Deadly.

The words went straight to your core, if it was physically possible for you to get wetter you would've. You cursed yourself for not being able to keep up a cool act near him, your body constantly betraying what your mind wanted you to do.

"And you're the first one. I'm not a pervert." You chuckled at his words, but felt a weird sense of pride. Like he was your dirty little secret.

"We'll see about that." He looked at you curiously, hands squeezing your thigh one more time, a bit harder this time, "You're not killing me right? Cause technically, you're taking me to a secondary location and the odds of me surviving that are slim to none."

Price threw his head back, a genuine string of laughter coming out his mouth. Surprisingly enough that one warmed your heart more than your pussy and you were utterly disgusted with yourself. Fantasies of riding him until you passed down were fine, but you drew the line at imagining how his chest would bob up and down when he laughed as you laid over it on a chilly Sunday evening.

"I wonder if you'll still be that cheeky with my cock in your mouth, love," he said nonchalantly and you stood dazed as he winked at you.

Where had this man been all this time?

"I think this is good." The car stopped and you looked around.

You recognized the neighborhood, not too far off where you lived. It was quiet and peaceful, a lot different than most places in your city during a Friday night. There was a small hill close by that stood in front of a river that crossed the city, the soft sound of rippling water filling your ears.

"I see you chose somewhere near the river so it'll be easier to dispose of my body," you joked, John undid his seatbelt and turned slightly to you, or as much as he could with his giant legs.

"Or I could take you up there and hold you while we watch the stars," he said softly, but you still picked up on the gentle sarcasm of his tone.

"Now that's a psychopathic thought." You turned to him, licking your bottom lip as you mapped his features, the slope of his nose, the way his mustache grazed his upper lip, how his blue eyes looked down at you ferociously behind the thin frame of his glasses, like he was about to jump at you anytime. You found it thrilling.

"If you want to stop this…" he began, voice barely audible, "Tell me now. Because after we start, I know I won't be able to hold myself anymore."

You inhaled dizzily, unsure of how could every single thing he did turn you on so damn much. Your hands moved to rest on his chest, you enjoyed the feeling of his muscles underneath your hand, traveling up until they rested on the collar of his shirt. His breathing was ragged and you watched him close his eyes for a moment.

"Eager much?" you whispered back, hoping your bratty behavior would stir up something in him. He scoffed, his own hand trailing up your inner thigh, taking your dress with him.

"They'd need a fuckin' crane to tear me off ya." It sounded a bit comical, but with the way he looked at you, like you were prey, and his fingers groped the flesh of your thigh, you actually believed him.

"Wouldn't have it any other way." You pulled him harshly to you, crashing your lips.

His kiss was exactly like you imagined, like you hoped. The taste of scotch filled your mouth as your tongues lapped against each other in a messy kiss. His guttural moans sent you off orbit, worrying that if his dick wasn't inside you in the next 20 minutes you might just drop dead.

Your hand slid up from his collarbones until they rested at his nape, you pulled his short hair harshly, parting his mouth away from yours by mere inches, relishing in the way his half lidded eyes looked down at you, watching attentively as you took his bottom lip between your teeth, softly biting into the skin. John let out something close to a whimper and you were sure that that was the single hottest sound in the entire world and you'd kill to hear it again.

"Fuck, c'mere." In a swift movement, he pushed his seat back a bit, grabbing you like you weighed nothing and placing you straddling him, his hands immediately going from your waist to your hips, before giving your ass a firm slap.

A sound moan went out your lips, closing your eyes and nearly falling forward on his chest. You could feel the outline of his dick under you, providing you with not nearly enough friction, pulsing with the whimper you made as he squeezed your ass harshly.

"Sound so fuckin' good, baby." His head was now in the crook of your neck, kissing, licking and biting his way to your breasts.

You wanted to answer with a little quip, keep up your bratty attitude. But the sheer stimulus from his hands and mouth on your body, being slowly rocked on his hard on, was just too much already and you could only moan and whimper broken cries of his name.

"Already daft for me, sweetheart?" He let out a throaty small laugh, one hand traveling from your ass, up your waist, gently squeezing your boob before setting down on your cheek, "Thought you'd last longer with your little attitude, hm?" He whispered darkly into your ear, biting your lobe softly and rocking your hips against him again.

"J-John…" you whimpered, the fabric of his jeans against your wet panties, sure to leave a stain, torturing your pussy.

His fingers grazed your cheek and your jaw, before his thumb brushed over your bottom lip, dragging it down slightly.

"Are you gonna be a good girl for me?" he asked, his hand coming down on your ass in another loud slap, you steadied yourself with both hands on his chest, gripping his shirt tightly as his thumb invaded your mouth. You instinctively sucked on it, nodding your head to his question, a low hum echoed from his throat as he shook his head, "Use your words like a big girl, hm?" He grazed your tongue one last time before taking his finger out, your spit dripping from his finger to your chin, he gently smeared it around, eyes fascinated as he watched your drunk eyes and parted lips, body squirming on his lap.

"Y-yes." You gathered the strength you had to mutter, little huffs coming out of your mouth as you tried to grind yourself harder against him.

"Yes what?" He raised your chin to look at him, eyes fiery and dark.

You trembled over from another slap he gave your ass, rocking you forward in his covered dick, the friction sending jolts up your body and you threw your head back, hissing. John grabbed a handful of the hair on the back of your head, turning your face back to him in a surprisingly gentle movement.

"Y-yes, sir." You could feel his dick twitching under you at the honorific, the side of his mouth going up slightly as he pressed a chaste kiss to your lips.

"That's my girl."

By God, you nearly came at that. You barely had time to bathe in the way his raspy voice echoed in your ear with the praise, feeling the straps of your dress be pushed down your arms, the fabric at your chest now bunched over your hips. John sucked in a breath, admiring your naked body lustfully, biting down on his bottom lip.

"Bloody hell, love, look at you…" He used one hand to mold the flesh of your right boob, kneading it with furrowed brows, completely focused on the way you panted in pleasure. He rolled your nipple on his fingers and you jumped, making him chuckle.

"A little jumpy, are we?" You groaned in complaint but he just laughed at you, mouth flying down to capture your other breast. He sucked and twirled his tongue around your hardened nipple, humming in satisfaction, while humping up, grinding into your pussy.

"S-sir, please–" you begged and he let go of you with a pop, you looked down seeing his shiny lips from sucking on your boob, trying your best to take in so you could relive the moment when you were alone.

"What do you want, baby girl?" He was teasing you, taking the most pleasure in breaking you apart.

"You in– fuck– inside me," you spoke in between breaths, his grinding getting harder and harder as your panties got so soaked you could only feel the friction of his jeans against you.

"Well looks who's eager now," if you had any strength you would've slapped his chest, but your arms were already shaking, your inebriated state along with your desperate need for him down there making your head spin.

Maybe it was mercy, maybe he wanted it just as much as you but was that much better at hiding it, whatever it was you thanked the heavens when he pushed you back slightly to open the zipper of his jeans, a wet stain in the spot you were seated before. Price looked rather amused at it, almost proud that if he left you there for another 5 minutes you would've probably come on riding his clothed dick alone.

You salivated at the sight of his boxers, a huge bulge outlined by the thin, stretchy fabric of his underwear. Your hands immediately flew down to it to break his cock free, feeling the absolute girth and length of him. Your belly ached with the sheer prospect of having his massive dick in you, certain that you would be sore for a few days at least.

"Shite–" he threw his head back in a hoarse moan, biting hard on his lip as you smeared the pre cum on his tip, imagining all the positions you wanted to do with him.

He looked back at you, eyes narrowed in pleasure as he witnessed you spit on his cock and move your hands up and down faster, the wet, unholy sounds paired with your cock drunk appearance driving him to the edge. He gathered the strength to grab both your wrists and pull you to him, your lips connecting once again in an even messier kiss.

His beard tickled your skin, but it wasn't as prickly as you thought it'd be. His hands moved to the small of your back, while the other nested into your hair again. Your tongues met again, groans erupting from him while you whined to feel more of him. You moved your hips forward until you were grinding your clothed clit against his hard member. The pleasure making you moan loudly into the kiss as he pulled your hair.

"You want my cock inside you, baby? Want me to pound into you like a whore?" He bit hickeys on the column of your neck, licking the sore spots after, drowning in your soft moans and begs of his name that just rolled of your tongue in a messy string of pleas.

"P–please, sir. Fuck me like a slut, pl–please," You whined and he gave you one final bite, right between your shoulder and neck, before ripping your panties completely from you.

If you hadn't been so damn wet already, that alone would've been enough to get you dripping. The way he just effortlessly tore the lacy fabric from your body with a growl. His gaze was sinful as he pulled your hair back, chin pointing to his face.

"Open up," he ordered and you immediately obeyed, "Good girl," he uttered satisfied as he stuffed your mouth with your panties, a guttural groan of pleasure escaping from him as he enjoyed the beautiful sight of you as a panting, drooling and moaning mess, begging for him to fuck you. He could cum just by looking at you like that, completely disheveled thanks to him.

He used one of his hands to raise your hips, the other one guiding his cock to your entrance, sucking in a breath as you sank down on his shaft.

"Oh– fuckin' hell, so bloody tight," he rasped and you could only moan loudly, the sounds muffled by the crumpled fabric in your mouth.

He barely gave you time to adjust, grabbing your hips and guiding you up and down, your hands bracing yourself on his chest, hair falling all over your face. The sploshing sounds your wet cunt made whenever his cock entered you were loud and filthy, permanently ingrained in Price's memory, along with the way you shook and whined over him.

You could hear him panting and hissing, strong legs giving you leverage as you rode him, feeling the tensing muscles of his chest against your hands, his own altering between running up your sides and your tits, giving them a hard squeeze, nipples hard against his palm.

"Bloody fuckin' hell, baby," he all but growled, "Such a good cunt for me. C'mere, wanna her you scream my name." He latched his hands onto the panties in your mouth, discarding then somewhere.

The immediate lewd sounds that erupted from your mouth could surely be heard by anyone passing by the vicinity, but you found that you didn't quite care, thoroughly enjoying the way his dick twitched inside you as broken pleas of his name dripped from your mouth like honey, driving him to insanity.

"So f–fucking good," you cried, hips faltering as he hit a deep spot inside you that stung so good you could practically see stars.

"Those f–fuckin' bastards can't give it to ya like I can, hm?" Another sharp slap came down to your red, sore bum, sending you flying straight into his chest. He used the new angle to lift his thighs rapidly, pounding into you with vigor as you scratched his chest and shoulders, screaming his name, "That's right, need– need someone like me to fuck you j–just right…" His own voice was breaking, low grunts of pleasure coming out with his ragged breath as his cock disappeared inside you again and again.

"I–I'm close, s–sir… please… need t–to cum…" You buried your head on his neck, barely having the strength to hold yourself up. Not that you needed to, his big hands holding your hips locked in place as he hit a spot that had you reevaluating every single fuck you had before.

"Gonna cum on my cock like the dirty little whore you are, darling?" He nipped at your ear, going harder and deeper as you felt your high approaching. You couldn't even think straight enough to nod your head yes, biting his neck as you whimpered and squirmed, "Will you let me cum in you, hm? Fill up this pretty little pussy full of cum so you can walk around dripping? Fuck… you'd look so fuckin' pretty," he moaned the words through gritted teeth, legs shaking ever so slightly as his own orgasm started to build. He grabbed your chin harshly, fingers digging into your cheeks as he forced you to look at him, his eyes narrowed, bottom lip caught between his teeth as low grunts mixed with the sound of his thigh hitting your ass.

"Look at you," a moany laugh left his lips, mouth quivering up in a smug smirk, "So cock drunk for me, what would people think, hm? A pretty, smart lady like you– completely fuckin' ruined. Does it turn you on? Being put in your place and railed by your bloody professor?" That's all you needed to come undone above him, a string of incoherent babbles and broken cries of his name dancing out of your lips as you shook violently on his lap, hands coming down on his thigh to support yourself as the strongest orgasm you ever had washed through you. Head spinning in complete daze and disorientation.

You fell on top of him, body pliable like playdough as he continued to fuck into you, his own moans getting louder and out of breath as his own high came down on him.

"Oh shite– fuck, princess, let me cum in you. P–please…" The sound of this 6 foot man begging and writhing under you was nearly enough to get you ready for another round, if it weren't for your completely exhausted body. He didn't have to ask you twice as you moaned and nodded.

"F–Fill me up, sir, please. Want you to– to stuff me full of your cum." That was the only permission he needed as one his fingers dug into the flesh of your hip, sure to leave a bruise, his other hand moving from your face to your nape, gripping your hair and pulling you back.

His head got lost in your neck, leaving bites all the way down to your breast, sucking on it hard and pulling your nipple between his teeth as he moaned, the gruff noises sending vibrations down your body as you felt him shake, burying himself inside you as a warm, thick liquid filled you to the brim, spilling down your leg and onto his lap. He desperately tried to catch his breath, resting on the seat with you on top of him, the sounds of your respiration the only thing you could hear along with distant sounds of sirens and cats from the city.

You both stood there for a minute, one of his hands coming down to your back as he brushed his fingers softly in a random pattern, sending small shivers through your body, his other hand still nestled in your hair, but now gently massaging your scalp, the sheer comfort of the movement would be enough to lull you to sleep in other circumstances. You also had your fingers on nis nape, playing with the little tips of his hair absentmindedly, head resting on the curve between his shoulder and his neck as you inhaled his scent, now a mix of sweat, his musky cologne and a bit of alcohol, you could get drunk alone through his smell, wanted to bottle it up and keep it to yourself forever.

"You okay, bunny? I hope I wasn't too rough with ya…" The low volume of his voice, a bit louder than a whisper, the obvious care that laced his words and the cute completely out of nowhere pet name made you melt into him even more. Your heart skipped a beat, a gentle sigh escaping your lips.

"You were perfect." You managed to get out amidst your dazzled state, your other hand squeezing his arm reassuringly. You felt his soft chuckle under you, his throat bobbing slightly with the sound before you felt him turn his head towards yours.

"I'm glad." Was all he said before planting a kiss so chaste, so caring and full of tenderness on your head you nearly passed out, unsure of how the man behind those soft lips and featherlight touch on your skin, as if he was afraid of tainting you, was the same one that fucked you senseless not even minutes ago.

The sheer loving and innocent nature of his actions were almost enough to make you forget he was still balls deep in you, his liquid running down your sore thighs. You unglued yourself from him, looking down at the hot mess you made, the sight making you get wet all over again.

"That's quite the mess, innit?" You looked back at him, noticing the smirk and pure delight in his voice as he said it. You could feel his damn pride in the air, could see it in his eyes that he'd do it again ten times worse if he could. The thought alone sent you spiraling again.

"I'd offer to clean it up," you started, running your finger on a drop of his cum that ran down your thigh, taking it to your lips and locking eyes with him as you lapped it up, sucking your finger clean before removing it with a pop. The way his eyes darkened all over again, his cock twitched involuntarily inside you, made you smile in victory, "but my body would definitely give out and you'd be obligated to throw it in the river," you quipped and he just stared at you smiling, an odd, bewitched glimpse to his eyes, you felt even more vulnerable than when he was fucking you.

"I won't let that happen," his hands brushed gingerly from your collarbones to your jaw, feeling your soft skin under his touch, he glanced down your lips, licking his, before going back up to your eyes, "I told ya I'd take care of you, didn't I?"

You couldn't move away your sight from him, from his fucked out, half lidded look, the way his mustache was slightly wet still and his glasses fogged up near the bridge of his nose. Your mind was screaming for rest, but your body ached for him, for more. You unconsciously rolled your hips, relishing in how he threw his head back, exposing his neck, littered in purple blossoms, a hiss leaving his mouth, feeling his hand squeeze you involuntarily.

It'll be a long night. But perhaps, God doesn't hate you that much after all.

A/N: Whew, this was something. This absolute piece of filth and profanity was inspired by this lovely drawing and this video. I highly suspect that this concept will still make my imagination go wild, so expect perhaps a part 2?

Constructive criticism and feedback are always more than welcome! I hope you enjoyed reading~

Tag list: @thychuvaluswife

#cod mw2 #modern warfare 2 #john price #captain price #captain price x reader #professor!au #professor price #smut #captain john price #call of duty #fanfic #one shot

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zombiecreampie · 4 months

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Ghost x Reader:

note: pls be kind. I might write a part 2 where there is smut but ima be honest, I’ve never written smut before. I’m willing to try because idk ghost is so sexy and hot and I love him so much LOL.

#imagine Being out with task force 141 as a way to celebrate your last day of deployment before you have a couple months off. All of you decided to go to the bar as a way to cool off and let off some steam. You were dressed in casual attire compared to what other girls were wearing. You didn’t realize how fancy the bar you guys had chosen was going to be. As you stand at the bar, waiting for the drinks your team ordered. A guy came up to you and bumped his elbow into you. You smiled politely, taking a step to the left so you wouldn’t bump into him again. He slyly took a step closer, winking at you as he invaded your space. You turned your head, avoiding eye contact and drumming your fingers against the counter top.

“Hey” you heard in your ear. A shiver ran down your spine and you turned your head slightly to turn back to the man next to you. You nodded your head in a greeting and turned your head away, hoping this man will take the hint. Your body swayed slightly, the shots you had taken earlier finally catching up to you.

“You alone?” He continued. You gritted your teeth in annoyance, and shook your head, deciding to put your attention on the menu on the overhead of the bar. You wanted to enjoy your little moment of bliss, not wanting it to be ruined by some jerk who wanted to get into your pants.

He turned his body to directly face you and you dropped your head and sighed under your breath, knowing where this conversation was going. You lifted your head and looked at him expectantly.

“Cmon, don’t be like that princess. I’m just hitting on a pretty girl at a bar” he explained, looking at you up and down. You tried to remain confident but the vibes this man was letting off was making you uncomfortable. You began looking around for an outing and you decided to swivel your head back toward the table where your teammates were at and did a double take when you saw ghost staring intently at you. You widened your eyes at him and looked back at the stranger in front of you .

“Look, I am not interested so please leave me alone” you said, taking a step back. You saw the man’s hand twitch as if he wanted to physically stop you from moving away from him.

“Cmon, I just wanna have some fun” he pouted and this time you physically cringed. You shook your head and put your hands up to balance yourself and to put more distance between the two of you. The stranger took this as a sign to grab your wrists and pull you into him. You grunted when you hit his chest and he took the opportunity to wrap his arm around your waist. The first thing you noticed was his stench. He smelled of sweat,cigarettes, and alcohol and it made you want to physically gag. You began to panic and squirmed around trying to get out of his grip. Although you were basically a trained assassin, the situation escalating so quickly threw you off and not to mention, you were buzzed from pregaming with Soap beforehand.

“Fucking let go of me” you groaned again, when his smell began to abuse your nostrils.

You suddenly felt cold. The man’s body laid sprawled out in front of you and you gaped at him. Your eyes widened, the entire situation to much to process at once. Soap grabbed your shoulders, putting you behind him while Ghost shook his hand, his knuckles bloodied. Ghost turned to look at you as if he were asking you if you were okay. You nodded timidly, grabbing onto Soap’s shoulder, squeezing lightly to indicate that you wanted to leave. As Soap was going to escort you out, Ghost grabbed your wrist and proceeded to pull you towards the exit. You turned your head back towards the table full of your teammates and Price was smirking while Gaz stared wide-eyed at Ghost and you. Ghost pushed open the back door and dragged you towards his all black BMW. He opened the door, making sure you got into the passenger seat before he walked around and got into the car. He huffed as he started the car, immediately pressing the gas, taking off and leaving behind a cloud of smoke.

“Thank you” you said after a minute of silence.

“What the hell was that sergeant?” Ghost said, his voice calm and stoic. He completely ignored your gratitude and gripped the steering wheel tight.

“I-um” you began.

“You were just gonna let another man touch you like that?” You stared at his knuckles from the corner of your eye, staring as they were turning white while being red from punching the man who almost assaulted you.

Suddenly Ghost came to a halt, you realized he stopped in the middle of nowhere and you looked at him confused. He turned the car off and got out slamming his door shut in the process. You followed suit, confused as to why he was so angry and especially why he stopped in the middle of nowhere, where it was pitch black and nothing could be seen for miles.

“Ghost, I’m sorry but it wasn’t my fault. He began harassing me and-“ you began but again you were interrrupted.

“HAVE I NOT TRAINED YOU WELL ENOUGH TO DEFEND YOURSELF SERGEANT?” Ghost yelled, his eyes glaring at you. You nodded your head, walking around the hood of the car towards him. You didn’t know why but you wanted to prove your point to Ghost. You wanted him to understand the situation.

“Ghost-“ you pleaded.

“It’s lieutenant, sarge” Ghost interrupted again. You huffed at his interruption and narrowed your eyes. Now you were getting annoyed.

“Okay, Lieutenant. I wasn’t asking for him to harass me. He began talking to me at the bar and I acted uninterested and then he wouldn’t stop throwing himself at me. I was getting annoyed and I was trying to-“ Ghost scoffed, and you looked up into his eyes. You never realized how much taller he was than you.

“What is your problem?” You raised your voice a little. Seriously, he was acting like you were asking for that to happen.

“Obviously my problem is the fact that man put hands on you” he said, his jaw clenching underneath the balaclava. “Why was he touching you at all?” He expressed, gritting his teeth. He looked at you, his eyes holding so much fury, you were almost scared. Almost. He took a step closer to you, your chests inches away from touching yours. You felt your breath stutter as your face was inches away from his. His scent invaded your nose, and he smelled like cologne, wood, and sex. His eyes fluttered down towards your lips for such a quick second that if you weren’t paying attention, you would have missed it.

“Y/n, I don’t like when anyone touches you. It bothers me” he admitted, looking into your eyes, almost as if he was trying to look into your soul. You were taken aback by his confession. For Ghost, that was admitting a lot for a man with little words. Ghost admitting he cared for you had your heart pounding insanely hard inside your rib cage. You were sure if Ghost got any closer, he would be able to hear it.

“Lieutenant” you whispered breathlessly.

You had to admit, since you joined task force 141, you always had a thing for him. He was such a well statured man, always carrying his team and himself so confidently. Seeing him barking orders, working out, or anything he does makes you wet between your legs. Right now was not any different. You felt a tingle in between your legs and you can feel your pussy clench around nothing. As if Ghost could smell your arousal, his eyes flickered down to your lips and this time he made sure you saw that he was staring at them. His hand reached out to grab your waist and pushed you gently against driver’s side door. You felt yourself pinned against the hard space, looking at Ghost. Waiting for him to do something, anything.

His hand reached for his balaclava, raising it so it stopped right beneath his nose and you were entranced by seeing his lips. You’ve seen them many times before but seeing them so close was doing something to you. All your wild thoughts coming forward. How would his lips feel on yours? How would they feel on your neck, right on your sweet spot? How would they feel kissing your inner thighs? You couldn’t take it anymore. You grabbed him by the collar of his uniform and pulled him into you crashing your lips on him. His hands immediately grabbed your waist, gesturing you to jump up, and you obeyed. He easily lifted you up and you instinctively wrapped your legs around his waist, hooking at the ankles. He pushed his hips into yours, pinning you to the car again, this time his clothed bulge rubbing against your clit. Your mouth opening to let out a breathy moan and he took it as a chance to shove his tongue inside. Your tongues swirled around each other and you could really taste him. You could taste the whiskey he was drinking earlier and you usually hated the taste of whiskey but right now you couldn’t get enough of it. As you sucked on his tongue, he grinded harder into your cunt and you moaned quietly into his mouth and he pulled away to look at your face.

“Fuck, I think that’s my new favorite sound love” he said, breathlessly. You felt his bulge grow larger as he continued rubbing himself against you and you swore you were gonna cum just from dry humping each other. You moaned again when his lips started peppering kisses up and down your neck. You grabbed the back of his head, tilting your head back to give him better access. You felt his lips smirk against your skin and then he began sucking. You moaned loudly, and you felt your face get hot from how much you sounded like a pornstar. You were glad you were in the middle of nowhere because if you were around someone and they had heard you, you would have died of embarrassment. He pulled away again, looking at your neck proudly.

“There, love. Now no one will touch what’s mine” his voice deep with lust.

“Should we finish this in the car love?” He asked, his eyes searching yours for an answer. You nodded ferociously and he bellowed out a laugh. He let you go and your feet planted themselves on the ground. He reached for the door handle and shoved you inside and went in right after you.

#simon ghost riley #ghost #ghost x reader #ghost cod #ghostsoap #ghost mw2 #smut #fluff #john soap mactavish #john price #captain price #kyle gaz garrick #one shot #imagine #shorts

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sicutpuella · 4 months

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The Other Woman (Reader & Captain Price)

size difference, mild sexual content, infidelity— Capt. Price is in a political marriage, a forbidden and secret affair, AFAB, she/her pronouns

Divider by @iluvpooks

Past midnight on his private estate in The Cotswolds, the only sounds are their deep breaths, the crackling of the fireplace, and the faint jazz record playing.

Sitting upright, her head nestled against his chest, their eyes lock in an unbroken gaze. With delicate fingers, she traces soft circles upon his breast, her gaze catching the scars that mark his rugged frame. A silent understanding passes between them, for she is well practiced in the art of unspoken observations. Never does she mention the marks that adorn his skin; such matters are left unsaid. A tranquil silence envelops them both, a shared accord that requires no words.

His hands wrap around her waist, one on her soft, smooth back, and another around her small frame. She is safe here; that is sure. As he looks into her eyes, he senses her admiration for him and her affection. It is all a beautiful sight: her touch and her warmth, her gaze and her aura. Everything.

With tenderness, he caresses her arms, his touch gentle as he fears his roughened hands might mar her delicate and tender skin. She finds solace in his soothing strokes, feeling as though she were a lamb, cherished and protected. In his affectionate manner, he refers to her as "his lamb," a term of endearment that bestows warmth upon her heart.

Leaning in, he kisses her; their bodies press together. Their lips meet softly but with passion, melding seamlessly, as if they have always belonged together. The kiss deepens and becomes more sensual, his tongue exploring her mouth, his lips caressing hers. Each kiss intensifies, filled with passion, tenderness, and desire. Their eyes gaze at each other, breath quickening as they kiss. He pulls her against him, hands gently holding her hips. It is a perfect moment.

"Already told my driver to bring you back to London by morning," his voice, tinged with the rasp acquired through years of indulging in cigar smoking, rouses her from her reverie. She sighs, a gesture that has become all too familiar within their routine. He intimately kisses the back of her neck, his lips lingering on her skin, relishing the soft, silky feeling against his tongue. He pulls her close to him, the heat of his breath grazing her skin, sending shivers down her spine.

“I hate leaving you…”

"I know, love." He kisses her neck softly again, his voice husky, tinged with yearning. "But duty calls, and I need to get back. You know how it is."

“More like your wife…”

"You know I only have eyes for you." He leaned against her, pressing her closer, his hands tracing her skin softly, his breath hot on her neck.

“When… when will I see you again?” Her eyes drooped with sadness.

"Hmm... Perhaps in January," he mused, his voice trailing off. "I... I cannot say for certain. It’s December now… you know how my wife is with the holidays.”

She sighs, pulling away from him a bit. “A month without you…” She softly spoke.

"I know," he sighed, reaching forward to stroke her cheek lovingly. "But we'll speak every day, and I'll think of you. You'll be in my thoughts, I promise."

“I hate that… I can’t be with you on the holidays.” She spoke so painfully; it was the reality of being his mistress—the holidays, the important days were spent with his wife, not her.

"I would take you to my cottage in Scotland if I could," he sighed. "My wife won't come, but you can't come because of... the circumstances.” He sighed. "You know, if I could divorce her, I would, no second thought. But I can't."

“I know…” she sighs, pulling away slightly.

"If I'm honest..." he leaned in against her, their bodies pressed together. "You mean more to me than she ever has. And it breaks my heart knowing she's the wife and you're not."

“That’s…” she couldn’t speak properly, “I’m so touched by it.” She whispers, kissing him on his cheek.

"I wish I could marry you," he whispered back, his breath brushing against her cheek, his heart pounding in his chest. "That's not an option, though. But know that you're my heart."

He leaned his forehead against hers, their breath mingling together. It was a tender moment between them, and although his words couldn’t express the love he felt for her, the way he looked at her spoke volumes.

“I’ll be in Switzerland with my family.” She shares, her head stuck to his chest again.

"I'll miss you," he whispers, leaning forward, their faces only inches apart. "Be on your best behavior over there; don't get up to no trouble. Don't want you stealing the local men's hearts."

“Oh… shut it… you’re my only old man.” She laughs.

"Old man?" He scoffs. "You really gonna call the man that can pin you against the wall and kiss you into oblivion an old man?"

She giggles into his face, taunting him, “Oh yes. Definitely.”

"You little... you wanna go that route?" He smirks, pulling her in towards him.

“Make me!” She stands up, running to the far corner of the bedroom.

He sprints after her, pinning her to the wall once more, his breath warming her neck. Their bodies are so close; she can feel his heartbeat thumping.

He lifts her up, taking her by surprise.

His hands grip her thighs, her legs hanging over his arm as if she were a princess in a fairy tale. She feels light and small in his arms, yet, despite her weight, she feels entirely safe. His eyes bore into hers, his expression darkening, and his breath is hot as he leans in, his lips a mere inch away.

“Seems like the old man still has it.” She laughs.

"So you're a wise-ass, then." He scowls, but underneath it, his eyes sparkle, and his cheeks are flushed. He lifts her leg upwards, bringing her higher onto him. She can feel the pressure of his frame on hers, the force of his strength, and his warmth. He's so much bigger than her.

She shakes her head playfully.

His hands caress her smooth legs, her breath catching at his touch. His fingers trail up her thigh, his breath hot against her sensitive skin. His eyes are fixed on her face, but his mind is elsewhere.

“So you’re a dirty old man too?”

"I'm a gentleman," he growls, his voice tinged with masculine intent. Her leg is still in his grasp, her thigh still brushing against his hand.

She gasps as he carries her back into his bed.

He sets her down into the bed, her frame pressed against the mattress, her legs wrapped around him. His body covers hers almost entirely, her waist in the space between his thighs. They share an unspoken understanding, their gaze unwavering as he inches closer to her…

It was perfect… this night was just perfect. His estate here in The Cotswolds made sure to let them forget the outside world for a minute, to forget their responsibilities. In this little world they have here, she’s not just the mistress—the other woman. In fact, he detests calling her his mistress; he loves her more than his legal wife. Their entwined bodies spoke a language only they understood, a silent declaration of their love.

As the first rays of sunlight pierce through the curtains, casting a soft glow upon the room, he holds her a moment longer.

But he can't. She must go. The driver's already parked outside, only missing is her and her bags.

She looks back at him, while seated in the leather car seat. He kisses her once more on her lips, and he closes the car door, kissing her goodbye for now.

#captain price #captain price smut #captain price angst #captain price au #captainprice smut #captain john price #captainprice angst #captainprice one shot #captainprice ff #captain price one shot #codau #cod oneshot #cod smut #cod angst #john price

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deunmiu-dessie · 1 month

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𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘤𝘬𝘪𝘦 𝘣𝘭𝘶𝘳𝘣 𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘴 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘳𝘢𝘨𝘰𝘯 𝘰𝘯𝘦-𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘵 𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘣𝘳𝘦𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘨 (𝘢𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘢𝘴 𝘰𝘯𝘦-𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘸𝘰𝘭𝘧𝘰𝘯𝘦 💀) 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘰𝘧 them 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘣𝘦 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘯 𝘣𝘶𝘵, 𝘪'𝘭𝘭 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮 𝘪𝘯 𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘰𝘧 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘤𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘢𝘨𝘦. ( read last tag pls )

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rennorthernlights · 4 months

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Mustang Inquiries

A collection of Drabbles from my OC Mustang, that will span over the Call Of Duty universe. One-Shots and Short stories involving our favorite characters. NO PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION OF HER WILL BE SHOWN ONLY THE NAME I’VE GIVEN HER!

Includes Smut, Fluff, Angst, and anything and everything in between. They will be tagged accordingly.

Requests are OPEN

Smut 🌶

Fluff 💞

Angst 💔

In-Between 🪢

As always, READ THE WARNINGS ONCE CLICKING ON A ONE-SHOT OR SHORT. MINORS DNI+18 AND OVER ONLY!! I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR WHAT YOU CONSUME.

Simon “Ghost” Riley

Breaking You In 🌶🪢 | One-Shot

Heatwaves 💞 | One-Shot

———•———•———•———•———•———•———•——

Kyle “Gaz” Garrick

Maybe I Was Wrong 💔💞 | One-Shot

All Mine 💔🌶 | One-Shot or maybe Short?? Haven’t figured that out yet.

———•———•———•———•———•———•———•——

Johnny “Soap” MacTavish

All Tender For Me 🌶 | One-Shot

———•———•———•———•———•———•———•——

John “Bravo-6” Price

Insanity In Company 🌶 | Mini-Shorts

———•———•———•———•———•———•———•——

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ghostandsoap · 9 months

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Sitting Pretty

Captain John Price x Fem! Reader Tags: Smut. Cockwarming. Price is being mean. Main blog: @allixiler Word Count: 1.0k "You're doing just fine, my love."

"John, please." Your lip had the slightest quiver to it when you spoke.

A cheeky, proud grin spread on the man's face, his eyes closed both from exhaustion and satisfaction.

"Don't whine, princess. You're alright." John's thumbs rubbed in sweet, soft circles over your waist that was in his hands.

You huffed at his response, which earned a small laugh from him.

The mattress of his bed felt indescribably amazing to his tired bones and muscles. John had expressed to you that he was worn out, which wasn't surprising given the stress of the mission that he had just returned home from earlier in the day.

It was difficult for John to wind down and take a load off after such a hard job. The pressure and trauma of his job wasn't something that he could just turn off whenever he wanted to.

He needed to ease himself into feeling relaxed...comfortable and safe even. When he suggested this as his means of un-stressing himself before bed, you were all over it.

But it was proving to be a bit harder than you originally bargained for.

His cock was buried deep inside you. His tip was pressing against a bundle of nerves far within you, which was intoxicating yet frustrating when he was restraining you from moving at all.

However, that didn't stop you from trying.

His eyes opened briefly at the feeling of you trying to rise and sink back down onto him, his eyes rolling into his head before his eyelids closed again.

You were soaked, the insides of your thighs and John's lap and lower stomach proved that. His cock was sopping from where it rested inside of you, twitching every once in awhile from the stimulation.

The sight of you falling to pieces and desperate for him was almost enough for him to give in from this little charade of his. Seeing you breathing heavy and practically shaking with anticipation was almost enough to make him feel bad.

Almost.

"Mmh. Quit moving so much," His hands gripped your hips tighter to keep you seated on his lap. "Sit still."

"John, please," You begged again. "I want you to fuck me."

Your right hand felt heavy on your thigh where it rested and laid flat. Your left hand was gripping the hem of John's t-shirt that you were dressed in, just barely covering your naked lower half.

"I thought you liked feeling me like this?" He teased.

His tone was in a mocking way. He wanted you to beg for it.

"I do, I promise, but..." You whimpered when he shifted his hips underneath you, causing your voice to crack when you spoke next. "I don't know what you want me to do."

A low chuckle rumbled out of his chest. Not an ounce of sympathy in his voice or on his expression.

"I just want you to keep looking pretty while sitting on my cock," He purred. "You're doing just fine, my love."

You never ached for him this bad before. When he was gone and off saving the world, there were certainly times where you were beside yourself with physically craving him and emotionally pining for him.

But this was so much worse because he was actually here and could take care of you.

John would've loved nothing more than to hold you steady and upright while you bounced on his cock and made a mess of yourself, but he was getting too much enjoyment out of making you squirm.

"Look at you..." He hummed, opening his eyes just long enough to get a good look at you. "So so beautiful sitting up on my lap."

He didn't get a reply from you, and when he felt all of your muscles relax and your body go limp, his eyes snapped open. He noticed you weren't fighting it anymore, eyes blurred with tears and filled with hurt.

"Oh, oh darling..." He sighed sympathetically, his hands moving to rest on the tops of your thighs. "You need my cock that bad?"

You nodded desperately, a pitiful sniff sounding from your chest.

John knew he had pushed you too far. No amount of fun in the bedroom was worth making you genuinely distressed and upset. He couldn't stand to see you cry, and that was the number one way to make his tough guy appearance dissolve.

John maneuvered to sit up against the headboard, his cock hitting you at an even better angle.

"Hey, hey..." He cooed, bringing his lips to your forehead to press a kiss there. "I'm sorry. Please don't cry, my love."

He watched your expression as he lifted you off of his cock just enough before sinking you back down, his hips rolling up to thrust into you. You visibly shuddered, a whimpered plea for more sounding from you.

"How's that feel?" He said through a groan. "That feel good?"

His breathing was getting quicker, and his movements to fuck into you were getting involuntary. He chuckled when you nodded, wiping at the last of your tears.

"Alright, baby. I'm gonna let you have your way with me," He pressed a sloppy kiss to your mouth when you began to rock back and forth against his cock. "Fuck."

His grin was blinding, his hands holding your body as close to his as humanly possible because he did not want you to stop. He probably would've deserved it if you did stop, but you were too good to him to do that.

"You're going to be the death of me." He groaned, his mouth falling open at the feeling of his cock pounding into you.

For a moment he wondered why he would ever deprive himself of this, even if it was entertaining to watch you fall apart for him. Your arousal further drenched his lap and the tops of his thighs, the sound of you slamming onto him making his head go fuzzy.

You couldn't help but give a soft laugh that turned into a breathy moan when he buried his face in your breasts, kissing and biting at whatever he could get his mouth around.

This was a much better stress reliever for both of you, and you knew you could have it any time that you asked.

And that was something worth taking advantage of.

"That makes two of us."

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soapybutt17 · 10 months

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How It Began

Summary: Mission has gone south and Price was left with no other choice but to regroup in his home. There, the rest of the team were met with a wife that they didn't know the Captain had, but a Lieutenant they were all too familiar with. Character: John Price x F!Wife!Reader. Simon "Ghost" Riley. Kyle "Gaz" Garrick. John "Soap" MacTavish. Word Count: 3,059 Chapter Warnings: Mention of Blood and Injuries. Allusion to Smut. Pregnancy. Ghost and Gaz being mentally scarred(?).

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Soap knew it was bad when even their Captain was agitated. A mission gone wrong and they were once again on the run in the process. With just the weapons and supplies they carried, they had nothing that could truly help them hide for the time being. Kate was still unable to find them a safe house for the time being.

So the Captain had decided that it was best to bring everyone to his own home for the time being instead. But even with such information, the man was on edge. The hour drive to the forest had been quiet, the sound of the car and the nature around them being the only thing killing the silence of the confined space.

Eventually, Soap had caught sight of a home, at the outskirts of the city, away from the prying eyes of the world. A true representation of their Captain. A two stories home, with a vast yard.

From the closing distance, Soap could hear the sound of dogs barking at their arrival. His eyes peered towards the Captain, slowly the weight on his shoulders were lifted and a ghost of a smile had appeared on his face. There was just something so majestic about finally being home—even if the circumstance was not on anyone’s favor.

“Keep yourselves in check, don’t want to scare the missus.” Price had pointed out once the car was put in a stop.

“Missus?” Soap couldn’t hide his own surprise.

Since when has the Captain been married? The man had shown no indication of it, not even in the rare instances of conversation of their lives away from the field. Soap has never caught sight of even a wedding ring on the man’s finger. But then again, it was best in this time and age to keep it a secret, to avoid any unnecessary action taken against his loved ones.

“I’ve got a life away from the field, MacTavish.” Price chuckled before finally slipping out of the car with the rest of them following behind.

The sound of the dogs now grow louder, further agitating Soap in the moment. He hated dogs, but he was nothing more than an unofficial and much unneeded guest in his Captain’s own home. Walking closer to the door with Ghost and the injured Gaz, the door was opened and the last person he would have ever see be present.

“Lieutenant?”

It was the fifth member of the team that just months ago was put on leave for reasons still unknown to him—until now. He was all too certain why you were now put on leave. The visible bump was evident enough at it was.

“What happened?” You were quick to take hold of Gaz as he continued to stagger from the bullet wound on his leg. Your eyes peered towards the Captain in question.

“Mission gone south, Kate can’t find us a safe house here, so I thought it was best to bring everyone here to regroup.” Price explained, immediately wrapping his arms around you and the pieces finally fit together.

Everything makes sense now.

“Come in, I know the mission was a nightmare. I’ll make you three some tea and something to eat.”

Pulling away from Price, you had went inside and they were once again surrounded with the silence.

“So you and the Lieutenant?” Soap inquired.

“We prefer to keep our relationship a secret. But circumstance made it impossible to keep it a secret anymore.” He sighed, escorting everyone inside.

“Hold still for me, okay?” Your heart was breaking, having to see Gaz in so much pain but it was for his own benefit. The sooner the bullet is removed and the wound is cleaned up, the sooner it is he could begin recovering.

“Yes, Ma’am.” Gaz tried to keep on a strong face, but his deathly grip on Soap’s legs made it more evident the excruciating pain that he was in.

With bated breath, you finally tended to Gaz’s wound, pulling out the bullet and stitching him right up. All the while, you could hear Gaz’s heavy breathing and Soap’s attempt at distracting him the best way he knew how—through humor.

“Good as new, Sergeant.” You beamed at him, patting him on his uninjured leg before standing up, wincing at the sudden numbness on your legs for sitting for too long.

“Careful.”

You smiled towards your husband as he made his way towards you and helped you upon your feet. You looked at him, cupping his cheeks in appreciation before your head turned right back to Gaz and Soap that were both staring at you. It seems your husband has yet to truly explain about your relationship.

“Tea?” You offered.

“Got it covered, Ma’am.” It was Ghost that muttered, placing the tray of tea on top of the coffee table that still had the surgical equipment and bloodied gauze you’ve used.

Without even asking, Ghost was quick to discard most of the trash and you looked right back to your husband, a proud look on his face at the masked man’s actions.

“We’re in our home, I think we could drop the formalities.” You pointed out to which earned a blush from all three men. Each and every single one of them looking at your husband for his approval on this.

“Happy wife, happy life.” He chuckled, kissing you on the temple before finally letting you go to check on Gaz’s wound.

For the next few hours, you had tried—and failed to be a good host to the three visitors in your home, but if it wasn’t your husband, it was Ghost or Soap interrupting you and doing whatever you had planned for you. It was growing frustrating, but you knew they meant well given your state.

“Are you three really sure you’d be fine sleeping here?”

You frowned at the setup that laid before you in the guest room, Gaz was laying on the bed all on his own because of his injuries while Ghost stayed on the foldable mattress you had laying around and Soap had decided to take position on the coach.

“This is more than enough for us, Ma’am.” Soap reassured with a grin, before a pillow was thrown right onto his face from Ghost.

“Let’s get you to bed.” Turning your husband was hot on your tail, a frown resting on his lips as he knew perfectly well that you should be sleeping at this hour by now.

“Good night, you three. Just give us a knock if you need anything.” You reminded them.

“I hope not.” Your husband muttered before guiding you back into your shared bedroom for the night.

Kyle “Gaz” Garrick had seen and heard so much atrocities in his life in the military. But in the chaos of it all, there were some silver lining he constantly looks into, one of which was the found family he had found in the task force. A father in the form of Captain John Price and a mother in the form of you, the warm and understanding Lieutenant, older brothers in the form of Ghost and Soap.

With said family, he should have expected the full experience out of it. One of which was hearing fornication between his parents in the other room. But it was still a scarring experience to hear it so close and so explicitly.

With the ache still lingering on his legs, he would rather see himself getting shot wherever it was possible instead of hearing the moans and grunts from the other room. Fucking bedroom had thin walls and he could fucking hear everything. From the Captain’s grunts, to your whimpers, and even more traumatizing was the sound of skin slapping. Vividly he was hearing his nightmare coming to life.

“Fucking hell.”

Gaz found himself jumping at the sound of Ghost’s voice, peering down on the floor, the masked Lieutenant was having the same predicament as him. The man shared him a look both of them turned towards the snoring Soap on the coach, unaware of the noise they were both hearing.

“We hear nothing and we will say nothing in the morning.” Ghost instructed.

“I hear nothing, I know nothing.” Gaz sighed laying back onto the bed, and tried his best to find sleep in the confinements of the room he was more than happy to rest in for the time being.

Slowly, the noise slowly died down and they were enveloped in the post-coitus silence of the other room. But the image somehow running through his head, what his father-figure and mother-figure were literally doing in the other room.

“Blood fucking hell.” Ghost muttered once again, sharing the same sentiment as him at the moment.

One of the things that John had enjoyed being home was waking up to you. The way the sunlight washed over your features, the glow and plumpness of your cheeks because of the pregnancy, and the way you held onto him like a koala. He missed it all and he would do anything and everything to be able to bottle this moment up with you.

As much as he loved watching you sleep, he loved it even more to see you awake, in his arms, loving him as much, if not, even more than he loved you.

He began with taking your scent in with his nose against the crook of your neck, before his hands found their way to the dips of your waist, the supple naked flesh that he loved to hold against him in the coldest of nights. His ears picked up your whimpers, last nights romp ended with your legs shaking and the satisfied smile on your lips as they peppered his bearded cheeks with your kiss.

“Five more minutes.” You whispered, voice raspy with sleep.

Before he could offer something more than just laying in bed, the sound of Soap’s boisterous laughter shattered the peace inside the bedroom before a sudden realization popped in both of your heads.

They heard. Both of you were certain. The shared horror in both of your faces was much evidence of your realization.

“Let’s get up, before they destroy the kitchen.” You muttered standing up in all your naked glory.

A smile rested on John’s face at the sight of you. The pregnancy did wonders into your body. The fullness of your body as you were growing another human being inside of you. The stretch marks that painted your skin that you were beginning to hate but John loved all the more because of what it had symbolized.

“Another time, Captain.” You teased him slipping into your undergarments, John’s sweatshirt and the only pair of shorts that could fit you in your growing body.

“It seems so.” He grunted finding himself standing up in all his naked glory, walking straight into you and pulling you in for a kiss, the first of many kisses he was certain he would give you for the day. “Good Morning, My Love.”

“Morning to you too, Morning Breathe.” You playfully teased pushing him away before making your way towards the bathroom to freshen up. “You handle the boys, I will commit a war crime if they mess the kitchen up after I cleaned it the other day.” You warned.

It was all the order John needed before he found himself putting on some clothes and making a beeline out of the bedroom to see the madness of the kitchen.

To Simon, he had always expected that something was going on between the Captain and the Lieutenant. Price had always been concerned for the team’s well being, but he could see past the avoidance that would occur between the both of you. The tension that was always palpable whenever you shared the same space. It was more than just two superiors interacting with each other, more than just a friendship that spanned longer than the creation of the Task Force. He knew sexual tension when he sees it.

So it wasn’t much of a surprise for him to know that you and the Captain had a relationship. It however, surprised him the progression of said relationship was more than he had expected—with a baby coming along the way. Now the resounding argument before your discharge was clear. You were forced back home for the sake of your baby and for Captain’s sanity.

“How’d you like your eggs, Lt?” Soap had inquired his attention solely on the egg he was frying.

“Scrambled.” He finds himself muttering.

He usually slept less than anyone else in the house right now, more than just his mental state, it was for the scarring that had occurred last night. Nothing fucks him up more than hearing his parent figure fucking in the middle of the night.

He could not admit that it scarred him more than all the atrocities he had seen and done in his lifetime.

“Steady on the mess,”

Simon finds himself tensing at the sound of the Captain’s arrival. Turning to look at the man, the all too evident signs of a fucked man was seen in the man. A look was shared between Simon and Gaz, and he was all the more grateful for the mask he still wore, how it was easy to hide the blush that he was certain painted his cheeks at the memories of last night.

“Morning, Captain.” Gaz had greeted with the tint still on his cheeks.

The Captain nodded with a grunt before he made his way towards the cupboard to get his own tea started. Simon could see the darkening bruises all over his Captain’s neck and it made all the sounds of last night a reality.

“Heard anything from Laswell, Ghost?” Price had inquired, with his back still face them at the table.

“Told us to head back to the base as soon as possible.” Simon found himself responding, finally looking away from the man, his eyes find themselves resting on the array of pictures that hanged on the wall.

“We prepare to leave after lunch then.”

“Yes Sir.”

At the sound of the chair being pulled, Simon’s gaze returned back to the Captain that now sat in front of him and Gaz.

“I know we have a lot of things we need to discuss—about my relationship and how we had agreed to keep things private until now.”

“It is no one’s business but your own, Sir.” Simon find himself reassuring the man, the evident stress lingered on the older man’s face. He looked older than what he really was but it was a given with the weight that he shoulders during mission.

“But it should have been addressed as my wife is also part of our team.”

At the mention of you, you had arrived, sweetly greeting everyone with a glow in your face since the last time that Simon saw you. Battered and bruises during your last mission, with tears streaking your cheeks before you had left and not even said a proper good bye.

“How’s the leg, Gaz?” You had inquired, patting the man on the shoulders before you strode towards the cupboard to get yourself a cup. The tea that Price has made already waiting for you.

“Doing good, Ma’am.” Gaz responded, cheeks once again returning to a bright shade before them.

“Scrambled eggs for you,” Soap had finally placed a plate of semi-scrambled eggs in front of Simon which he had grunted a thanks to. “And a couple of sunnies for everyone else just like you like ‘em.” He added placing the handful of eggs in front of everyone as well as practically a handful of bacon to go along with it.

Simon had watched you walk towards the Captain, placing a kiss on his cheeks before sitting beside him on the table. The smile that rested on the Captain’s face and the stress of the previous conversation gone temporarily.

“Did John finally tell you about our relationship?” You had inquired already knowing what the conversation had been about.

“I was getting to that.” Price quipped with a chuckle.

For the next hour or so, the conversation was about catching with what you had been doing, all the while the married couple explained how and when it all started between the both of you. How you both had decided it was in everyone including each other’s best interest to keep the relationship and marriage a secret to avoid unwarranted doubts of favoritism amongst everyone. But neither Simon nor Soap or Gaz truly cared if you two were in a relationship or married, it never hindered in missions together and it never will upon getting to know you both even more.

Before long, breakfast and a lavish lunch has ended and it was finally time for them to head back to the base to regroup. All the while, Simon had watched you cling to the Captain, any chance you could, you held onto him for dear life. The unshed tears in your eyes had the Captain slowly crumbling in his resolve.

“Stay safe you four, and I hope you three will visit on a much better circumstance.” You had remained by the front door, unable to truly glimpse close up how they would leave all over again.

“Yes Ma’am.” All three of them had agreed without hesitation.

Simon had watched the Captain pulled you in for a hug and a much needed kiss that had all three of them turning away to give you both a private moment. Snickers and hoots however were thrown in by Soap and it left Simon slapping him on the back of his head to stop.

“Alright, let’s move out.” At the Captain’s booming voice, everyone had now headed back to the car and drove off.

Heaviness filled the car, it was good they had a moment of peace in the Captain and the Lieutenant’s home, but they still had a mission to deal with.

“So, you and the Lieutenant ever plan on adding sound proof walls to your bedroom before we visit again?” Soap inquired and all Ghost and Gaz could do was groan at the new found awkwardness that now filled the car and the sheer embarrassment in the face of the Captain that chose to ignore Soap’s words.

Soap and his fucking mouth.

#John Price Smut #John Price One Shots #John Price Oneshot #John Price Oneshots #John Price fluff #john price headcanon #John Price x reader #john price x female reader

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snootlestheangel · 7 months

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Snootles Rant: Lonely AF edition

Snootles does not feel well (she's fine just being dramatic) and is going to rant about being down bad (like seriously being horny on main right now do not perceive me)

*slumps on the floor* I wanna be a housewife so bad

I don't wanna work, I just wanna stay home and crochet/knit and then make some food

And then get absolutely pinned by my beast of a husband

Is that too much to ask????

Is it too much to ask for a big burly man to absolutely ruin me in bed but then he's dedicating himself to me in other ways???

I just wanna live on my own, at least. Crochet a bunch of flowers and vines and shit and decorate my place with them. I want friends I can just surprise with little crochet hearts or flowers and take on dinner dates.

*my ill figure pushes an image towards you* *muttering* I just need to be under him

The photo in question:

Fuck I also love him

*holds these two pictures and cries more*

WHY MUST I BE CURSED?? I AM NOT PHYSICALLY WELL ENOUGH TO HANDLE THIS BEAUTY AT THIS HOUR

*it's late I should really go to bed*

Instead I shall complain more because as hard as I've tried to stay horny off main, I am unfortunately a weak-willed woman

And I am a simple woman with simple needs.

And those needs are currently to get fucking decimated by one of the above men. Fuck it, if not both

#god the things i'd let Captain Price do to me #I just wanna *sniper shot*#It'd be better if I didn't finish that sentence let's be honest #they can destroy me but i'm okay with that #Captain John Price and Sgt Kyle Garrick live in my head rent free #fucking thinking of Gaz whispering “good girl” in my ear and I am deceased #Price saying “That's my girl” at literally anything I do and I am immediately weak #EVERYDAY I WAKE UP AND THINK ABOUT HIM *pictures of Gaz and Price*#*cries harder*#the way I need either one of these men is just shameful #Honestly for me though y'all do you #But like now I'm having Gaz feelings #am I going to bed? No #I'm gonna consume all the Gaz x f!reader stuff I can #and hit the Price x f!reader smut again #I hope nobody's reading these #But if you are lemme know #Lemme know how fucking crazy I am and how proud you are of me for finally getting this off my chest #kyle gaz garrick #captain john price #snootles rants

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maya-19 · 10 months

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Anyone into fan fic? CoD?Smut?

I wanna start posting them!

If anyone has requests lmk please ;)

I need ideas and will deffo be updating daily

I’m on Character Ai btw. Here’s a link for my DADDY PRICE bot: https://plus.character.ai/chat2?char=Uw8K20qh0W7QvXcFaeZypYPGqp1d6wbWvZhdOXxCMhc

#cod mw2 #simon ghost riley #captain price #john soap mactavish #soap mw2 #141 #call of duty #fanfic #smut #fluff #one shot #female reader #x reader

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riarozelle · 7 months

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Nikolai & Price & Marc

I am so sorry for that wait, I think I got hit by the author's curse that occurs on ao3, I couldn't find the time or the inspo to actually write this one out, it doesn't help that on Tuesday after work I had a breakdown in the shower, I had thought about harming myself, maybe even ending it, but I didn't and I'm very glad about it. I kept on getting distracted by stuff like the new show on YouTube, The Amazing Digital Circus, as well as Sleep Token.

I have no idea when I'll be able to write the extra smut shot, but I hope to get it out before the end of next month. I am going to see the new FNAF movie on Friday, so I'm very excited about that.

Once again, I apologize for the wait, here is the smut, I wrote some it while listening to a Sleep Token live concert on YT

WARNING || Sexual Themes Ahead || WARNING

YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED

Marc was sandwiched between the two large men, Nikolai behind him with John in front.

“You’re doing so good, Love, you’re perfect.” John growled as he nipped at his lover’s throat.

“Да так хорошо.” (Yes, so so good) Nikolai purred as he kissed and nibbled on the smaller man’s shoulder.

Marc moaned at the praise as he rolled his hips back and forth, rubbing himself against both men’s erections, the two groaning in unison at the pleasure.

“Please, fuck me, fuck me till I can’t even think anymore.” The younger pleaded as he tilted his head to the side, baring his neck for his partner’s to ravish with hickeys and bruises.

“Well, when you’re asking so nicely.” Nikolai purred his accent and rough voice sent waves of pleasure racing over Marc and John’s skin, leaving a rush of goosebumps behind.

A breathy moan slipped past Marc’s lips at the feeling of Nikolai kissing at the sensitive spot under his ear, his eyes rolling up slightly, his body arching.

John hummed in delight, the sound rumbling in his throat as he unbuckled the youngers belt.

“Mm, I’m going to fuck you so well...”

Marc whined at the words of his partner, his hips rolling forward, desperation for him near palpable.

“Легкая любовь...” (Easy Love) Nikolai purred, his hands firm on Marc’s hips, keeping the younger still.

John chuckled at his partners neediness, he made quick work of the youngers clothes, he and Nikolai were still fully clothed, keeping Marc between them.

“Y-you’re too overdressed... both of you...” Marc murmured, he squirmed a bit, wanting them both to take him already.

“Don’t worry, we won’t be for long.” John said with a smirk, he rolled his hips forward, nudging his clothed hardened cock against the youngers cunt.

Marc moaned at the sensation, his head dropping back against Nikolai’s shoulder.

Nikolai brought his hand around to the youngers stomach, he trailed his hand down to his fingers teased at Marc’s clit, earning whimpering moans.

John leaned forward, pressing his lips to Nikolai’s, the two kissed over the youngers shoulder, Nikolai continued to tease at the youngers clit, pulling moans and whines from Marc as he squirmed.

Nikolai pulled back slightly, he pressed his fingers past Marc’s lips, silently urging the younger to clean his fingers.

“Mm, John, strip.” the Russian purred, he gently pumped his fingers between the youngers lips as he sucked his fingers clean.

John watched the two with a heated gaze as he stripped till he was bare.

Marc panted softly, his eyes fixated on John’s rigid length, a string of drool trailing down his chin.

Nikolai chuckled, he pulled away a bit, nudging the younger to go to John.

Marc settled between his partners thighs, kissing the older, his fingers curling around John’s cock, pumping his hand up and down.

John moaned into the kiss, one hand on Marc’s hip, his other hand cupping the back of the youngers head.

Nikolai gazed upon the pair with a heated stare, he was quick to remove his clothes, once he was bare, he pressed up behind Marc, his hot dick pressed against the swell of the youngers ass.

Marc whined, grinding back against the older, his hand on John’s cock stuttering in its movements, causing the captain to cant his hips up.

John grunted, pulling away slightly, he used his knee to nudge Marc’s thighs apart, allowing the older to see his partner’s slick folds.

“Mm, John, fuck our little Певчая птица...” (Songbird) Nikolai purred, his hand gently wrapping around Marc’s neck, eliciting a gasp from the younger.

John positioned his throbbing length at Marc’s entrance, he caught the youngers chin between his forefinger and thumb, ensuring eye contact.

Marc let out a whimpering moan, his eyes began rolling up from the feeling of being filled.

The older paused in his movements, urging a whine of displeasure from his partner.

“Keep looking at me Love...” John rumbled, resuming his slow entrance upon reassuming eye contact.

The younger moaned, struggling to maintain eye contact with his partner, the older started a steady pace, groaning in delight at the feeling of Marc’s walls wrapped tight around his throbbing cock.

Nikolai watched as the two fucked, his gaze heated, he made eye contact with John, the two wordlessly shifted around.

John pulled Marc into his lap, causing the younger to straddle him, whimpering at the feeling of having his partner so deep inside him.

Nikolai nudged the head of his length against the youngers ass.

“Mm, are you ready..?” the Russian murmured into Marc’s ear, teasing a gasp from the shorter.

“Y-yes, please fuck me...” Marc whimpered, his voice so needy that the two older men chuckled before Nikolai sunk into the youngers tight heat.

John moaned low in his chest at how Marc’s walls fluttered around him, he nipped just under the youngers jaw, earning a needy whine as he adjusted to the feeling of the two men.

Nikolai nipped and kissed along Marc’s shoulder and up his neck, causing the younger to moan and squirm, wanting the men to move, to provide him even more pleasure.

The two older men groaned and grunted at the effort it took not to completely ruin the younger, they were going to wait till they got verbal confirmation to continue.

“Oh god, please please please fuck me..!” Marc begged.

That was all it took before his partners began to rock into him, the utter pleasure caused his eyes to roll back, his body arching.

“That’s it, such a good boy for us...” John rumbled, the tip dragging against the younger’s sweet spot, earning him sweet moans.

Nikolai caught John’s lips with his in a passionate kiss, their moans were swallowed by each other as they fucked into Marc, urging moans and whines from the younger, drool leaving a trail down to his chin.

“I-I’m gonna-!” Marc choked out, his body quivering as he neared his peak.

“It’s alright Любовь, Окончание.” (Love, cum) Nikolai murmured into the youngers ear.

Marc cried out in ecstasy, his orgasm ripping through him, his two lovers moaned low in their chests as they came right after, their spend filling him to the point his belly swelled slightly.

The three panted heavily as they came down from the high of orgasming.

John pressed lazy kisses on the youngers neck, teasing out soft whines.

Nikolai gently turned Marc’s head, pressing searing kiss to the younger, earning a sweet moan.

“Fuck, that was so fucking good...” Marc mumbled against Nikolai’s lips.

“Согласованный.” (Agreed) the Russian murmured.

After a few minutes of basking in the afterglow, the two older men set about cleaning up the younger and preparing for bed.

It wasn’t long before the three were settled under the covers, the two taller sandwiching Marc between them as they began to drift off to sleep.

Alright, so that is over a thousand words of pure smut, for anyone wondering, I do not know Russian, I use google translate so if the translations are wrong, I apologize.

I don't have a teaser for the extra smut shot, but if you want to leave suggestions for anything you want to see, such as certain toys or phrases used, maybe even positions, go ahead and leave comments, if anything it'll probably kick start the creative juices and kick my ass into gear

#cod #smut shot #one shot #cod oc #john price #cod nikolai #smut

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