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[ilovefakemilitarymen]

Deal with the Devil

~Professor!John Price x Student!Reader (Part Three)

____________________________

Read Part One Here: x - Part Two: x

Word Count: ~3.4K

CW: Minors Do Not Interact, NSFW, Smut, Inappropriate Teacher/Student Relationships, Sexual Tension, Praise Kink, Name Calling (good girl, sweetheart), not really much aftercare, AFAB Reader, She/Her Pronouns, Unsafe Sex

A/N: I thoroughly apologize for making people wait on this, have some good smut to make up for it! As always, if you think I should list something in the warnings please let me know!

The next morning, you wake up before your alarm goes off, and you take your time to just stare at the ceiling. The day before had felt like a dream and, in all honesty, you weren’t entirely sure it wasn’t. You can’t get the feeling of his rough hands on you out of your head.

It’s a problem of massive fucking proportions.

A problem so big that, by the end of this, you’re not sure the grade will even matter. You’re not sure if he’ll even have his job by the time the semester ends if this carries on, but, despite everything telling you no, your finger still hovers over his name on your phone.

It’s almost two hours before your first class with him. One hour before you probably should give him a call. You really can’t find it in yourself to care about whether or not he gets an extra hour of sleep.

Fuck it, you press your finger into the button, and the line is ringing. It does so for a couple of moments, and he doesn’t answer right away, but he does answer.

“Good morning, love,” The words roll off of his tongue, the sleep that coated his voice yesterday morning isn’t there but he’s breathing heavily. His words draw you in, letting you know, that yes, yesterday was in fact, real. It wasn’t a dream. “Did you sleep well?” The same question from yesterday, but his voice is dripping honey even through the receiver.

You had fully expected him not to pick up this early, but here he was, heavy breathing on the other side of the phone and calling you ‘love’. You run with it, his breath is sending heat straight to your core.

“I slept pretty well,” You say, and then a sick idea goes through your head and you’re nothing if not impulsive, so you let the extra words out, “Pretty wore out but I slept well.”

The chuckle he sends back to you makes a tingle run up your spine.

“I can imagine…” His voice trails off, and you can hear something in the background. You can’t place exactly what it is, but his breath comes out heavy. “What can I do for you this morning?”

Something sounds like metal clashing, coming through the receiver.

‘I just wanted to hear your voice.’

You don’t let that part slip, instead, you tell him about his schedule, “I just wanted to tell you that you have your morning class at about 10, and then what looks like a lot of free time before your evening class, around 3.”

“Thank you for the reminder, darling, but…” His voice drips from his lips, and he’s not holding back now, he repeats himself, “What can I do for you this morning?”

Your breath nearly catches in your throat, “O-Oh,” You stammer, the meaning of his words loud and clear. He hums, and he’s a smart man, he knows why you called him. Under the guise of telling him his schedule, he knows what you want. He knows what you need.

“Just keep talking…” Your voice is barely above a whisper. “What are you doing?”

You can hear the sound of a door opening, and then, after a couple of moments, can hear a car door shut.

He huffs a small laugh before he speaks and the sound of metal isn’t there anymore, but you get your answer to what it was, “Just at the gym, gorgeous…waiting for you to tell me what plans you have for all that free time that we have after class.”

“I have a couple of ideas…” Your voice is barely above a whisper, trying to steel your nerves.

“Is that so?” He sounds entertained, “What might those be?”

He’s a fucking menace. He wants you to say it. He wants you to tell him exactly what you want, and it sends electricity through your veins.

“Well…” You breathe out, “I was thinking you could bend me over that desk in your office.” The words come out, and you’re trying your best to feign innocence even though the words coming out of your mouth are anything but.

“I do enjoy the sound of that,” His voice comes out too normal across the phone, and it just spurs you on. He’s too in control, and you’re not sure if anything you say could ever get him to break his stoic attitude.

You decide to test him anyway.

“Want you to wrap your hands around my throat and fuck me till I can’t walk back to my dorm...sir…” You add on the last bit breathily, knowing it’ll just get him more excited.

He sends a light groan across the receiver, and you know you’ve got him. It sends your heartbeat to rest between your legs.

“I didn’t take you for such a slut, (y/n).” He seems proud of himself when he speaks, knowing he’s the entire reason for your words.

“Just for you, sir.”

He hums happily across the phone, and you finally let your hand come to rest against the arousal between your legs, but he cuts off the thoughts going through your head, edging you without even realizing it.

“I’ll see you in class,” He starts, and you know your time with him is over, “and then we’ll have some fun, darling.” You can hear his car start before the phone line cuts out and you can’t help but groan and toss your phone to the side.

He’s a menace.

But he’s a deliciously hot menace...

And two can play that game.

You move to get up and get ready, pulling a skirt out of a drawer and sliding it on before a devilish thought crosses your mind.

You slide your underwear off, tossing it to the floor before continuing to get ready.

------------

You cross your legs, hiding from him, but his eyes still rake over your form, taking in the expanse of skin on your legs. He turns from you quickly, hiding whatever response you had ignited in him. He’s at the front of the class, and in the middle of his lecture.

He writes on his whiteboard, and you take a moment to watch the muscles of his back, eyes following the curves directly down to his ass, and you take a moment, contemplating, before you finally decide to open your legs, leaning back in your desk chair.

It’s in nobody’s view but his, and you wait for him to finish writing and turn back to the class.

His eyes drop when he finally turns back around, moving exactly where you had wanted them to, and he clears his throat, eyes pulling from your exposure. He has a small smirk on his face when he starts talking again, and he’s nothing if not stoic.

You wanted to break him.

You wanted to watch the lust fill his eyes.

You keep your legs open for a moment, and his eyes dart back to you every so often, taking in every bit of your form. You close your legs while his eyes are on you, pulling your knees together and he turns back to the whiteboard, pointing, and you know there’s no reason for him to do so. He’s just trying to pry his eyes off of you before he snaps.

He finishes the point he’s making, that you have definitely not been paying attention to once again, but you can’t find it in yourself to care this time around.

“Alright,” He finally finishes up the class, “Do the reading.”

It’s all he can get out, waving a hand to the students, dismissing them. You look down at your phone to check the time.

Thirty minutes early.

You stay in your seat, keeping your legs closed and he waits patiently for the last of the students to file out of the room before he makes his way over to you. You try to ignore him, packing your things, but every cell in your body feels like it’s on fire.

“I bet you’re fucking proud of yourself, aren’t you?” His voice comes out low, nearly a growl when he finally speaks up.

Time to sell it.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Your eyes find his as you speak, making them as big as possible as you look up at him.

He doesn’t say anything, just presses a foot into yours, kicking slightly so you’ll open your legs up for him again. He drinks you in now, and you let him for a moment before you close them again, moving to get up and bend over to put your things in your bag, giving him a pretty view.

You barely have a chance to grab your bag before he presses his hands into your hips, tugging you in the direction of his office. You let a sly smile grace over your features, following after him towards the back of the classroom.

The door clicks shut and you hear the lock, and you stride over, resting against the front of his desk, and he looks like a man starved.

“We might need to have a talk…” He speaks, walking with an air of confidence that would put you on your ass if you weren’t holding onto the edge of the desk, “About teasing me in class like that.”

He’s in front of you once he finishes his sentence, legs moving to spread yours further apart before he reaches for the edge of your skirt.

“Are you gonna punish me, sir?” You match his energy, words moving like silk when they finally fall out of your mouth. You give him a slight smirk, watching the way his eyebrows raise.

“I’m gonna do more than that,” There are mere inches between the two of you now, and all you want is his lips on yours.

He won’t give it to you just yet, though. His hands move to bring your skirt up, hands gripping your hips and moving to face you towards the desk as he throws the material to rest against your lower back, leaving your ass exposed to him. You brace your hands against the wood, and he pulls your hips up against his, and you feel his bulge for a moment before he pulls you away.

“I didn’t realize you could be such a fucking brat,” His words are dark and you feel his hand come down to smack hard against your ass, a sharp sound pouring into the room around you and you moan, pushing further into his hands. “We’ll fix that.” He speaks, his voice much closer to your ear now, and his breath fans against your neck before he pulls back further from you. His hand hits heavily against your other cheek now, and he rubs the area as it turns red.

His fingers move to barely press against your heat, making you shudder as he lands another smack to your ass with the other hand.

“So wet for me already,” His hand moves over your hip, trailing up until it rests nicely against your throat, “What’s got you so excited?”

His words are torture and everything in you just wants him to go ahead and split you open. Fuck the foreplay, you need him now.

“Y-You do…” Your voice breaks as it comes out, barely above a whisper as his hand gives your throat a gentle squeeze before moving to rest against your ass. He smacks against your ass again, rubbing the abused skin lightly.

“What was that?”

“You do, sir.” Your words come out louder as you try to press back into him, but his hands move to grip your hips in an attempt to keep you from moving.

“Good girl,” His words make a whine push itself out of your throat. It’s ridiculous how quickly he’s reduced you down to nothing.

“Your good girl.” Your words are thick with desire, and he chuckles, letting you push your hips back against him, no doubt making a mess out of the front of his pants.

“Yeah,” His hand lands another smack on your ass and you moan as it starts to tingle, “You’re my good girl.”

Your mind is fully clouded now, lust and pain, the sound of his voice and the feel of his hands are the only thing you can think about. You’re ridiculous. Nothing but a few smacks and your entire confident demeanor reduced to whining just for him.

He loves it.

His hands grip heavy on your hips as he pulls you back into him, raising you up off the desk before moving you to sit down on the top of the desk he moves between your legs, hands running across the expanse of your thighs before he’s picking the edge of your skirt back up.

“Hold it,” he speaks and you move your hands to grip onto the fabric as he drops his hands back onto your thighs. The roughness practically melts the soft skin as he moves to rub his thumbs against your inner thighs, close enough that you clench around nothing.

You’re absolutely dripping for him, and you finally break. “Please…” Your words are barely there, but you can’t help but try.

“Please?” He questions you, thumb barely grazing your clit before both of his hands rest against your exposed thighs, and it pulls a sound out of you that you didn’t realize you could make.

“Please, sir.” You look down at his hands, watching as he rubs the skin of your thighs.

“Tell me what you want…” He watches you, taking in the way your face shifts from pleasure to pain as he pulls his hands away from you. He gives in, moving to your clit as quickly as he had pulled away. He rubs circles into you, breaking you down piece by piece, and you let out a broken moan. You move your hands to the front of his pants, barely getting the button undone before he moves them. “Use your words, gorgeous.”

He holds your hands in his, the other continuing to rub against your clit.

“Fuck me...please,” You’re delirious, drunk on him and all he’s done is tease you, and you buck your hips into his hand.

“Such a good girl for me,” He speaks as he finishes undoing his zipper, pulling himself out of his pants and moving his hands to grip your hips before he pulls you closer to the edge of the desk, forcing you to lay back onto it. You’re spread out for him, legs hanging onto his hips as he presses the head against your clit, rubbing and watching the way your face contorts.

He presses the tip into you, and the stretch of being unprepared for him is drowned out by the sheer pleasure of finally having him, but it’s cut short as he pulls back away from you. You let out a sound that’s somewhere between a sob and a whine as he pulls the one thing that you’ve been craving away from you.

Your hands are moving of their own accord, slipping into his belt loops and pulling his hips flush against yours. It doesn’t put him where you want him, and in reality, makes your cravings for him even worse as the fabric of his pants presses into you.

He lets out a groan around his words, “That’s not how you get what you want, gorgeous.” He breathes out, and your own want is mirrored in his eyes. He’s pushing you, prodding at you until he has you crumbling under him, tearing you apart at your seams.

“Please,” Your words come out heavily, a deep whine pulling out of your chest as you throw your head back against his desk.

As soon as your attention is off of him, he pulls his hips away from yours, lining himself up and sinking into you. The stretch has a growl dragging out of your throat and his following words only push you further into the feral feeling in the pit of your stomach, “Such a greedy cunt...Isn’t that right, baby?”

It nearly has your eyes rolling into the back of your head, and the sound you let out is damn near pornographic, and you can only bring yourself to nod at him eagerly as he pulls his hips back, plunging back into you hard enough to push you further up the desk. His hands move, pulling your legs up and his hands grip onto your thighs and he pulls you back, dragging you back down the desk onto his cock. Your hands grip onto the edge of the desk, keeping yourself still as he thrusts back into you, slowing his pace. His eyes are on you, drinking you in as one of his hands glides down your leg enough to grip onto it and throw it over his shoulder.

His thrusts move into an easy pace, enough to give you both pleasure, but not enough to push you over the edge. Even with his cock pressed into you, completely to the hilt, his main goal is to watch you break.

His hands are on your thighs, his left resting on the inside of your thigh as the other grips the leg that’s thrown over his shoulder. He runs his left hand along the expanse of your body, pressing under your shirt as he pulls it up, exposing you further to him before his thumb presses into your open mouth. The faint taste of your own arousal fills your mouth as you close your lips around it. His pace picks up then, as he’s finally got you where he wants you: a mess under him, begging, pleading with your eyes.

His hips snap into you at a rigid pace, and his thumb in your mouth muffles any sounds that come out of you before it finally pulls out, moving down your body until it rests on your clit, rubbing languid circles that don’t match the tempo of his thrusts but it pushes you further either way. All it takes is a groan from him to push you over the edge, your heat clenching around him as incoherent words and moans fall out of your mouth. He fucks you through it, his hand moving from your clit to grab your chin, forcing your eyes on him.

“That’s it, love… takin’ me so good…” He says in between thrusts, squeezing your cheeks as he takes in the mess he’s made out of you. Your chest heaves, your eyes half-lidded as syllables make their way out of your mouth in a prayer that’s made only for his ears. In your hazy state, you’re not sure when his own release comes, and you can only feel his hips stutter before he’s pressing himself fully into you, filling you up before his lips come down to press against yours. He lets out a growl, nibbling on your bottom lip as everything falls quiet around you. The sound of your moans, the dull thud of his still-clothed hips hitting hard against yours, is replaced by the sound of your shared labored breathing. His kiss turns more tender and you try your best to reciprocate it in your now completely tired state.

“You did so good, baby…” His words fill the silence, “So good for me.” The both of you share breaths along with light kisses as you come down, and his demeanor shifts so quickly that it would give you whiplash if you had more of a mind to think about it. You still feel like mush as he pulls out of you, fixing his clothes before he’s pulling your shirt back down with tender hands.

His arms wrap around you, lifting you off the desk before he’s making his way over to the small futon on the other side of the room and he sits down with you, letting you rest against his chest as you both collect yourselves in the dim light of his office.

Minutes pass, maybe even an hour, but your only focus is on the rise and fall of his chest.

“You okay?” He finally speaks, and it comes out tender, the gravel of his voice caressing you in a way that makes a shiver run up your spine. You nod, not trusting your voice just yet and he presses a kiss against the top of your head as his hand moves to scratch at your scalp to provide some extra comfort.

“Gonna have to come back for more than extra credit…” You mumble out after a couple more minutes, your voice absolutely destroyed, and you nuzzle further into his chest until your breath is bouncing off of his neck. Your words have tugged a light laugh out of him.

“Gonna have to cancel my next class…” He says, wrapping his arms tighter around you.

Fuck his next class.

Fuck the extra credit...

[ilovefakemilitarymen]

Deal with the Devil

~Professor!John Price x Student!Reader (Part Two)

____________________________

Read Part One Here: x

Requests are currently open!

Word Count: ~3.6K

CW: Minors Do Not Interact, NSFW, Smut, Inappropriate Teacher/Student Relationships, Sexual Tension, Praise Kink, Name Calling (good girl, sweetheart), not really much aftercare, AFAB Reader, She/Her Pronouns, Face Fucking, Fingering.

When you finally make it to class, Price is nowhere to be seen. You were a few minutes early, hoping to be as pointed as he usually is, trying to see if there was anything else he needed for the day. A few other students file into class behind you and you take your usual place, sitting in the front row. There aren't many students that actually show up to his class anymore, most of them just take the failure on their transcript or drop the class altogether.

You’d like to think that Price had respected your determination, and that's why he had agreed to the extra credit in the first place.

You’re half-buried in your textbook when he finally walks in, coffee in hand. He offers you a simple smile, as well as the rest of the students. He always extends kindness to his students, so you don’t expect special treatment, however, it still comes.

“Sleep well?” He finally looks over to you, talking low as he sits his bag against his desk. It takes you off guard slightly. You only give him a small nod, your eyes following his face, and he moves to sit at the edge of his desk.

“Let’s get started, shall we?” The question seems to fall on deaf ears as no one replies to him, but despite that, he begins his lecture anyway.

You fall into staring at him, watching as he moves back and forth in front of the whiteboard, jotting down terms and dates. You can’t get yourself to focus on a single one with how his pants hug his thighs nicely, nearly busting out of the seams with one small misstep. You watch as he moves, eyes taking in every inch of the man. Somewhere in the depths of your mind, you had wished he would have just asked to fuck you in return for extra credit. He just exudes the kind of energy of a man that’s good in bed.

When your eyes finally move to his face, he’s watching you. He gives you a small smirk, and you can barely hide the flush at being caught. He probably knows about your not-so-little infatuation with him and the fact that he didn’t take advantage of it directly when you had asked for extra credit just made him so much more attractive to you. You try your best to focus on your notes, swearing to deny anything he says to you about the staring.

Finally, he begins to wipe away the information on the whiteboard, clearing his throat and you realize that you’ve spent well over forty-five minutes just drinking him in. You curse to yourself, another class directly down the drain, and swear to yourself that you’ll read and re-read the chapter he had gone over several times before you go to sleep tonight.

“Enjoy the rest of your day,” He finally speaks to the class, and you hang back as the others leave. The lump in your throat forms at being caught staring at him multiple times. You need to tell him about his meeting, the damn meeting.

When he finally does speak up to you, you had fully expected to be called out, but he leaves it in the air between the two of you, focusing on your agreement instead, “What does the rest of my day look like?” He finally looks over to you, dusting his hands off and leaning against the front of his desk.

You cough, trying to collect your composure and glancing at the clock, “You have a meeting in about an hour.” When you finally speak it sounds rehearsed, and you know he catches on. He’s a smart man, a very smart man. You know you look absolutely ridiculous to him right now.

“Right, I almost forgot about that one,” He nods as he keeps talking, his gaze moving to the clock, “I’m gonna need you to come with me to that…to take some notes.” His eyes move back to you to gauge your reaction. His eyes were stern and you give him a nod before looking down at your clothes.

You don’t look bad by any means, but jeans and a tee shirt is definitely not business attire, “Should I go change? This is hardly professional.” You speak, unsure of your words but he just gives you a small laugh.

“It’s nothing important, just meeting with a couple of colleagues. You look fine. I just need you there to keep me on track.” You watch him, arms crossed against his chest and you give him a small smile as you nod to him.

“I can do that.”

“I’m sure you can,” He smirks at his words before he jerks his head towards the door, signaling you to follow him and you hurriedly grab your things and make your way out.

You pick up the pace, trying to settle into a good stride right beside him. It was a nice stroll through the grounds, but the weather was poor, so many of the students could be found hiding away in their respective dorms. Some part of you was happy about that; not wanting to explain why you were with the professor.

It doesn’t take long until he shuffles you into a small conference room and all eyes are on you, and you wonder what they think of you. Teacher’s Pet. New Teacher’s Assistant. You just hope they all assume you’d signed up to be his TA. He takes a seat among his colleagues, and you have to admit, he lives up to the drill sergeant comment that the other student had made. He commands a room like no other.

You sit silently as the meeting starts, jotting down things that seem important. There’s a comment about another meeting and you write that in the margins of his planner, keeping it in the forefront of your brain, needing to put it in your own so you don’t forget to remind him about it.

It goes on without a hitch, but, with the slight smell of coffee and tobacco, Price leans in to whisper in your ear, “Jot that down,” and his hand taps on the notebook you had splayed in front of you. You try to hide the way your breath gets caught in your throat, but you know he’s way too close to ignore it. You keep your eyes on the notebook, but with all honesty, you don’t even know what to write down, all the thoughts in your head blocking out what the other men say in favor of pulling the feeling of his breath on your ear to the forefront of your mind.

You’re sure he can hear your heartbeat from here and you move your hand up to chew at your nails, trying to conceal the slight flush on your cheeks. It does no good, and you can only silently thank any god that would listen that nobody else has eyes on you.

Nobody else but him.

Your hands are shaking when you try to write down the next thing being said, and it’s honestly no use but you try anyway.

“You’re doing good,” His words are quiet as they filter into your ears, and this time, your eyes shoot over to look at him, and he, surprisingly, looks slightly proud of himself. The praise is what finally breaks you, and you know he knows it.

You pull your eyes away from him, readjusting yourself in your seat and trying your best to pretend to be okay. Pretend like his words weren’t setting you on fire in the seat and tearing you apart.

The meeting finally comes to a close and you quickly shut the notebook and planner, shoving it into your bag and Price is waiting for you at the door when you finally gather your things. There’s a wet heat between your legs and you silently curse yourself for letting him rile you up so much.

He’s doing it on purpose. You’re not for sure, but the proud look on his face says it all.

The walk back to his office is silent, too silent, and you stray slightly behind him as you try to keep his eyes off of you as much as possible.

Your mind is stuck on the feeling of his breath and the way it had fanned against your face, tickling your throat. It sticks a lump there that you can’t swallow down.

When Professor Price finally unlocks the door to his office, he finally speaks, “You seem a little quiet, is there something on your mind?” He doesn’t look at you as he speaks, only opening the door and you follow him inside.

The room is dimly lit, yellow light from the small lamp in the corner resting on the both of you.

“Yeah, but I got some good notes for you.” You feign ignorance.

You know what he’s talking about, but the embarrassment keeps the words you want to say to him from coming out. You don’t let him know that you would much rather him push you up against the wall and fuck you right there. You don’t tell him you want to feel his fingers wrap around your throat.

You don’t tell him because he probably knows.

You feel like a wild animal backed into a corner.

In the small room, just you and him, and you didn’t see that he had clicked the lock on your way in.

“You know, Ms. (l/n),” Price finally speaks again, and your hands shake at your sides, “I’m not a stupid man.” He leans against the heavy wood desk when he finally speaks again, and this is it. This is when he finally fails you. “Did I distract you?” His words are heavy when they finally leave his lips.

“Maybe,” It’s the only thing you can get to leave your lips, and you curse yourself for not being more confident. His gaze tears you down, opening you up for him to see all the attraction. The need for him evident on your features.

“How would you feel if I told you that you’re distracting to me as well,” His words are low, just between the two of you despite being the only ones in the room, “When you stare at me the way you do, can barely get through a lecture with your eyes on me.”

You stay silent, words unable to form in your throat, but he finally continues, “Won’t you be a good girl for me and get on your knees? I’ll show you how much you distract me.”

With that, the dam finally breaks.

“Yes sir,” You barely get the words out and your bag is all but thrown to the floor, resting against the wall, and your eyes stay on his face when you move, knees bending, sending a jolt through you when they finally hit the ground in front of him.

He looks so good in this lighting, and your hands shake as they reach for the front of his pants.

His own hands catch yours before they finally reach him, stilling you and you look back up to his face. There’s a slight worry etched across his features when he speaks, “You can tell me no, sweetheart,” His words take you off guard, “You say the word and you can leave and I’ll still give you the extra credit.”

Somehow, the fact that he wanted to make sure this was a mutual thing only makes you more turned on. You nod to him, trying to find your words, and they barely come out as a whisper to him, “I want to,” You speak and he nods, moving his hand away from your hands to press it against your chin. His thumb rubs sweetly at your cheek, tracing the outline of your lips as you look up at him, eyes staring wide into his.

“You’re such a good girl.” He speaks, thumb pulling your lip down and his hands and the praise almost has your mind in pieces. Your heart pounds heavily in your chest, and you swear it almost pulls a whine out of you. His other hand moves to grab your stalled hands, still resting just before the waistband of his pants before he pulls them closer to him, pressing them against the button.

Your hands finally start moving again, unbuttoning his jeans. You pull down the zipper finally, the sound of it so loud in the small room. When you dip your hands into his underwear, his thumb presses into your lips and he swears, and you open your mouth for him, letting him rest his thumb against your tongue as you finally pull his cock out of his pants.

He feels heavy in your hand, your soft skin wrapped around his length and your eyes finally dart down, taking him all in before moving back to look at his eyes. His hand pulls you in, pulling you closer to him as you stroke him a few times, finally moving to press a small kiss against the tip, and his hand moves to brush a piece of your hair behind your ear before it rests on the top of your head.

He grunts when you finally take him into your mouth, the soft, wet heat pulling him in as your eyes watch his face. “Fuck,” the curse filters into the silent room, and he runs an encouraging hand through your hair. The musky smell of him filling your nose and only pushing you further down onto him. You pull back, letting him out of your mouth with a small pop before you move your hand and try to take him all into your mouth.

“That’s it, such a good girl for me…” His words are darker now, dripping from his tongue seductively and you start bobbing your head, his hand moving to thread into your hair before he moves it to pet your face. It’s intoxicating, his encouragement, the light touches, and you can’t help but whine with him in your mouth, legs rubbing together to search for some kind of relief.

His eyes close and his hand is resting on your chin now, cupping your face as you move, a light groan pushing itself past his lips. “That feels so good, sweetheart, you’re doing so good.” His praise is the only thing in your mind, urging you forward as you attempt to take all of him into your mouth. Your hands move to rest against his hips as his hand moves to grip the hair at the back of your head. Your nose pushes into him, and you gag around him before moving back and his hips move of his own accord, thrusting lightly into your mouth.

The tip hits the back of your throat, pulling a gag out of your mouth. You’re heavily out of practice, but you can’t help the way your hands pull at him, practically begging him to thrust back into your mouth, to use it however he needs to get off. It sends a shiver down your spine, the way his eyes go dark before he thrusts into your mouth again, hand tightening on the strands of hair he’s pulled into his grip. You moan as the tip presses heavy into the back of your throat and he snaps his hips back before plunging himself back into your mouth.

“You’re doing so good,” His words fall out of his mouth like honey as his hips thrust his cock deeper into your lips, and you finally pull one of your hands from his hips to unbutton your own jeans and push your own fingers into your wet heat and he practically growls as he watches you. “That pretty mouth of yours, taking me so well.”

You hold your gags back as he uses your mouth, his pants hitting hard against your chin, but you can’t find it in yourself to care. He could tear you apart and you would just thank him for it afterwards. You moan as he continues fucking into your mouth, the vibrations running along his cock and he lets out a moan. You rub at yourself lightly, the wet sounds your mouth is making only pushing you closer to your own release. Tears prick at the corner of your eyes, but it’s so fucking good that you don’t want him to stop.

“You’re gonna swallow it all, yeah?” His voice is husky when it leaves his mouth, hips faltering in his thrusts and you try your best to give him a nod, but the heavy hand holding your hair only allows for you to barely do so.

His hips stutter as praises fall from his lips, along with a low growl and you can feel when his pleasure finally comes to a peak and he releases into your mouth.

After a few moments, his hand comes to rest on your chin again, pulling you off of him and opening your mouth so he can look at the mess he had made against your tongue. You look at him through your lashes as you close your mouth and make a show of swallowing him down, and you finally speak, your voice coming out whiny and rough from the way he had abused your mouth, “Touch me, please, touch me, sir.” You lean back against your calves, hand against the floor, making a show of touching yourself.

He’s on the floor with you in record time, sitting on his knees and you can barely move your hand before his own is slipping into your pants, rubbing at your clit before he slips two fingers into you. He watches the way your face contorts as a moan escapes your lips at the stretch. “I think you’ve earned some attention, haven’t you?”

“Yes, sir.” Your words break as they leave your mouth, a heavy moan following them out as he curls his fingers inside of you, pressing hard against the spot that feels so fucking good that it has you falling apart. His palm presses against your clit as he continues to pull out of you and push back in.

“So wet for me…” His words send a shiver down you, and you whine, your hand moving to grip his arm as the pleasure takes over your entire form. “You like that, don’t you? Love my fingers in you.”

“Fuckin’ love it,” Your words mix with his before he can even get them out of his mouth, and your brain is mush, mumbling incoherent sounds as your other arm gives out as you lay back on the floor, letting him have his way with you, fingers pushed deep in your cunt.

“You look so pretty like that, all fucked out and I haven’t even fucked you yet,” His words are low, barely there, but they push you closer to your release. It’s nearly embarrassing how he has you laid out on his office floor, rough fingers fucking into you and his palm pushing you further and further, but you don’t care, would let him do it as much as he damn well pleases, using you however he wants.

Pleas and chants fall from your lips when you finally tumble over the edge with him whispering praises of how good of a girl you are for him, and your back nearly arches off of the ground when he speaks, “That’s it, fuck,” And his other hand moves to your face, wiping your hair out of your face as he pumps his fingers into you through your release.

He finally pulls his hands out of your pants, bringing fingers up to his mouth to taste you, and it only causes you to whine as you come down from your high. His hand is heavy on your cheek, thumb rubbing sweetly before he finally stands up, fixing himself in his pants.

There’s just something about being on the floor under him, watching as he fixes himself as if nothing had happened between you as you’re thoroughly spent under him. You pull yourself up onto your elbows, using them to move back to your knees and he leans over to you, hand finding its way back to your face, caressing the skin of your cheek before he speaks, “Clean yourself up, beautiful, and get back to your studies.” His words are back to normal and your eyes roam over his face. “I’ll see you in class tomorrow.” A small smirk plays on his lips as he moves to sit at his desk, watching as you fix yourself.

There’s a slight satisfied grin on his face as he watches you and you move over to your bag to pull out a hair tie to pull your hair up, forgoing even the attempt to try and get the tangles out of it before you pull it up into a bun to try to hide the mess as much as you can. You know your lips are swollen and the light layer of sweat against your skin is starting to dry disgustingly, but his eyes on you just make you feel like you're the most beautiful thing in the world.

You get up off the floor, moving to pull your bag over your shoulder and leave, but his hand catches your wrist, pulling you over to where he sits before he presses a small kiss to your lips. You hadn’t expected the tenderness out of him but it’s welcome, and you give him a small smile before you head for the door.

You think, just for a moment, that you’re gonna milk this agreement for as much enjoyment as possible.

[ilovefakemilitarymen]

Requestable Characters!

Every day I'm finding more and more Call of Duty characters that I fall in love with but for now, these are the ones that I'll write for. I write SFW as well as NSFW x reader fics and headcanons, so knock yourself out, nothing is too crazy. I may regret saying that later, but for now, I'm interested in what you guys wanna see!

Requests are currently open for these characters!

MW2:

Ghost/ Simon Riley

Soap/ Johnny MacTavish

John Price

Gaz/ Kyle Garrick

König

Horangi

Ghosts:

Keegan Russ

That’s all for now folks, but honestly, if you got the hots for any of the CoD lads or ladies just shoot me an ask and I’ll check em out. I definitely wouldn’t mind finding more characters to get brain rot for so fire away!

[ilovefakemilitarymen]

Deal with the Devil

Professor!John Price x Student!Reader (Part 1)

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A/N: Originally posted this to AO3 and then decided to start a Tumblr account for some COD x readers and headcanons. So, if any body is interested, my requests will be open for the next couple of weeks till I hit about 10-15 or maybe more if this gets a lot of love. I’ll be posting a list of who I’ll write for later today. Enjoy!

Word Count: ~3.4k

CW: Inappropriate Teacher/Student relationship///This part is pretty tame, it’s the later parts you have to worry about but each will have their own warnings attached.

The truth was as simple as this: You were failing History.

Terribly at that, and it would take an act from whichever god would take pity on you to get your grade above the F you were currently sporting on your most recent report card. You were determined to get at least a C by the time the next report card came around, just so you wouldn’t have to take the same damn class for another semester.

The second truth was not as simple: Your teacher was as hot as the sun in the Nevada desert during the summer solstice.

He was a man that played by the rules, teaching tough love in the form of not giving a shit when you didn’t turn a paper in on time. His rules were strict, and so was his grading system. Professor Price was going to be the death of your college career. That didn’t keep you from eyeing the way he moved during the lecture, and it didn’t help that he was the type to make eye contact with each of his students to make sure they were paying attention, forcing you to keep your eyes off of his body and on his face for the entire hour that he spent lecturing the class on the different wars that had plagued the earth.

Despite failing, you had to admit his class was one you had looked forward to. However, it's not because you had a love for history, it’s to ogle the man that taught you. You should probably feel bad, but you didn’t. You couldn’t focus when he wore the furthest thing from educational wear, usually sporting a simple tee that fit him a little bit too well and either a pair of dress pants or coming in what looked like uniform pants that you could only guess were from his earlier days in the military. He had never talked about his days before becoming a professor, but you could about guess it was something that kept him fit by the way his muscles threatened to shred his thin shirt.

However, none of this could explain why you were now leaning over his desk, trying to bribe him into taking the paper you had tried to turn in late.

Price leans back in his chair in the front of the class, hitting his pen against his hand and taking in every word you had whispered to him, trying to keep your voice down as much as possible.

“Isn’t there any way you can take the paper?” Your hands press heavily against the edge of his desk. There aren't many times that you had come up to him instead of it being the other way around. He was continuously trying to get you to turn your work in on time, but lo and behold, it seems that his prodding had gone in one ear and out the other.

“No,” He speaks sternly, and you can’t help the way your shoulders drop at his words.

“But-” You begin again, but he cuts you off before you can even say anything else.

“You should have turned it in,” He shrugs, his more nonchalant attitude coming out in his words. You knew he didn’t give a shit if you failed but you wished he would at least take some pity on you. “I told you multiple times when it was due, and you ignored it.” His eyes shone with mischief, and you knew he was a man that had seen a lot worse than a student practically on her knees, begging for a second chance.

“I promise it won’t happen again, sir” You tacked on the last bit, trying to play into the small power trip he has, but it does nothing. “Just give me one more chance.”

“And I’m supposed to trust that?” His words aren’t harsh when they come out of his mouth, just stern, “You had multiple chances to turn that paper in on time, so your irresponsibility doesn’t seem like it’s my problem.” He leans back up on his desk as he speaks, nodding towards the small folder in your hand.

You had worked all night trying to get this paper written, staying up damn near the sunrise just to get it to him on time, only to realize the due date was yesterday when you had moved to turn it in.

Your words come out with not much thought from you, but the smirk on his face spurs you on, “Just this once, please. I’ll do anything, sir.”

You hadn’t realized how much trouble your words would get you into just yet.

Price leans back in his chair again, continuing to fiddle with his pen as he gives you a small chuckle. It’s barely there but you hear it and his words come shortly after, “Anything?” You give him a small nod at his words, “You know what they say about making deals with the devil?”

“No…” You breathe out slightly at his words and they imply something, but you’re not quite sure. You can’t help but look down at his arms. There’s no way he’s implying what you think he’s implying, but you don’t stop your mind from wandering.

“Then I guess we don’t have a deal,” He leans back up moving to begin grading papers again, “You’ll just have to accept the grade you earned.” He doesn’t give you another look, instead his pen moves against the paper as he tries his best to ignore your presence.

“Wait- What do they say, about making deals with the devil?” You continue to lean on his desk, voice low. “I’d sell my soul for a good grade in this class, sir. I’m begging.”

“You’d sell your soul, would you?” His face turns towards you, a small smirk playing at his lips, and you have to admit he looks god-damn attractive like that, about a foot or so between the two of you. You can only nod, eyes glancing down at his hands once again.

You don’t care if he’s just some creep wanting you to suck him off in the back closet once for him to take your late paper, and you also don’t admit to yourself that you would probably do it if he offered, good grade or not. He’s the hottest thing you’ve laid your eyes on in years and a heat pools in your abdomen at the thought of it.

“I don’t know about your soul, but we might be able to make another deal.” His words are low as he speaks, his face turning back to his papers, and his pen moves, marking little details in the margin of the paper.

“Anything, I’d do anything…” Your words trail off, waiting to hear whatever he has to say.

He nods, taking in your words before he moves to put his hands under his chin. There’s a devious smile under his mutton chops, and when he finally speaks, it’s not what you really expected him to say. “I want you to be my personal errand girl for the rest of the semester.” He takes in your reaction, eyes on your face for a reaction, “That means you’ll grade papers for me, fetch me coffee, and do whatever else I need you to do.” Your shoulders slump slightly, and you can’t believe you had fully expected him to tell you he’d be bending you over his desk for a passing grade. Your eyes don’t catch the way his lips had darted out to wet his lips at the words, ‘anything else’. “And in return, I’ll give you a passing grade, but if you fail to do so, I won’t hesitate to fail you.”

“Is that all? I can manage that.” You say confidently. You can be his personal lap dog for the rest of the semester. It really didn’t seem all that bad.

“Oh, I don’t think you understand the full extent of what I’m asking,” You watch his face as he speaks, “But if you’re willing, then we have a deal.” He raises his hand to you, intending to shake on the agreement.

“What?” You say a little bit snarky, “I get you coffee when you ask for it, and you say jump and I ask how high?” You reach your hand out, placing your palm in his. The calluses against his palm scratch against your soft one.

“Something like that,” He speaks as he shakes your hand, and you don’t realize that one handshake will be your unraveling. “We’ll discuss the details after class. For now, get back to your seat and let me finish grading these papers.”

“Of course,” You nod eagerly, placing the folder on his desk before turning to make your way back to your own seat, and he turns back down, moving through the papers with grace, marking along the pages at the right and wrong information.

Professor Price has always been a little bit of a wildcard, but you can’t help but let out a sigh of relief when you finally get back to your seat. You’re not sure what you had actually got yourself into, but you swear to yourself not to screw up the chance he’s given you. The work in front of you is completed rather quickly, which is lucky considering you can’t focus through class and have to rely solely on the reading. You can’t help it that the sheer circumference of the man's arms get more attention from you than the words he speaks. It would be nice if your slight infatuation with him would garner you some way to get information from his words instead of turning your brain into a pile of mush.

Your gaze moves up to him, and you catch his eyes on you. He gives you a small smirk, and you can tell he’s quite pleased to have you agree to his little deal, and you can’t help but feel slightly flustered from the unwarranted attention. He’s probably just excited to get some of his workload off of him.

Your eyes stay turned to him, even after he looks away, and you know you shouldn’t stare, but you can’t really help yourself. Your work is finished in front of you, so taking a break from the reading to watch him grade his papers shouldn’t hurt.

His arms are lean, and his muscles seem to flex each time he raises his arm to flick his pen against one of the papers. Your mind flows back into wondering just what it was he had done before deciding to become a professor. Despite it being in the past, he definitely continues to work out since there’s no way he’s keeping a physique like that just lounging around the house all day.

“Something on your mind?” His voice comes out, tearing you out of your thoughts and you look up, realizing he had caught your eyes on him.

You decide to say fuck it, and shoot, asking him the question you had wondered for the last couple of weeks, “What did you do before you were a professor, sir?” Your question garners a few looks from the other students in class, their eyes turning to him, probably wondering the same thing.

“Well,” He lays his pen down before he speaks, “I’ve had quite the career,” His voice carries through the classroom, looking at you before turning his gaze to the other students. “I served in the military for many years, fought in several wars, but,” His eyes are on you again, “Now I’m here teaching the next generation.”

You nod to him, turning your attention to the textbook in front of you but the voice of another student pries you away from it, “Explains the drill sergeant attitude.” It’s followed by a small laugh. Price just shrugs, not really disagreeing with him.

Price finally dismisses the class moments later, slightly early, but you do your best to lag behind, gathering your things in your bag, and throwing it over your shoulder as the last student filters out. You move to walk to his desk, knowing he’d want to talk to you about your little ‘agreement’. Price is also packing up his things, stuffing papers into a folder before he pushes it into what looks like a laptop bag.

His eyes pull towards yours, and you watch as he lays a heavy hand down on his desk, “First things first, I expect you to be at my beck and call whenever I need you,” He pulls the bag over his shoulder as he speaks.

“Yes sir,” You speak, nodding at him. Your hands play with each other nervously.

“If I ask you to fetch me coffee, you do so. If I need you to grade papers for me, you do so.” He speaks and you continue to nod to him.

He continues, “Good, secondly, I’ll need you to keep my schedule organized,” He hands you a small planner, and you come to realize this is going to be a little more time-consuming than you had expected. “You’ll be responsible for making sure I’m on time, whether it’s a class, a meeting, or any other obligations.” He studies you as he speaks, “Lastly, I expect you to be discreet about our agreement. I don’t do this for any other student, so no one needs to know about this. If anyone asks, you’re simply helping me with some extra work. If it gets out, I won’t think twice about failing you.” He watches you as you nod to his requests, but you can’t help the itch at the back of your brain. “Is that clear?”

“Isn’t that what I’m doing?” You speak, eyes resting on his, “Helping you with extra work?”

“Yes, that is one way to put it.” He smirks slightly, “And you’re not to question my authority or disobey my orders.” He leaves the air open for a moment, gauging your reaction to his words, “Understood?”

The way he speaks, just in his simple tone, makes a heat pool between your legs, but you have to pull yourself out of your thoughts. He doesn’t mean anything by it, it’s his military nature. You’re sure he had a high rank, his commanding presence sure to make anybody weak in the knees.

“Yes sir,” I speak, my words a lot lower than I had meant. It feels like a big secret, something shared with you and you alone. You can’t help that it makes you excited.

“Is there anything else you’d like to clear up,” He speaks before he adds, “You seem a little distracted.” His words are low, but you have to push the feeling that rises in you down. He’s your professor, he’s just trying to make sure you understand what he’s saying.

“This just feels a little more secretive than I was expecting.” Your words tumble out of their own accord.

“Our agreement is a little less...conventional than most,” He gives you a small smile, innocent in nature, but you can’t help but get excited. It is something that only you and he share. “I don’t offer extra credit for anyone else, and we wouldn’t want to make any other student jealous, would we?” You shake your head at his question. “Plus, I think you’re up for the challenge, aren’t you?”

You can feel your heart rate pick up, “Yes sir.”

“Now, I expect you to keep me on schedule,” He taps on the planner resting in your hands, and you nod at him eagerly. “And if you do a good job, I’ll reward you with some extra credit.”

You nod to him again, hoping you don’t come off as too excited, “I’ll do my best, sir.”

“I’m sure you will,” He moves around the desk, “You can go ahead and head out for today, I’ll see you in class tomorrow.”

You adjust the bag on your shoulder, moving to put his planner in as you head out of the classroom. You can feel his eyes on you as you leave, and it leaves you with a feeling of excitement and anticipation. You had never expected him to give in and offer you extra credit. It’s definitely going to be a lot of hard work on your part but you’re practically buzzing at the idea of being able to do these things for him in exchange for a better grade. You’re willing to do what it takes to get through this in one piece, and hopefully not have to take another history class in the next semester.

------

That night, you finally open up his planner, eyes roaming over all the things he does in his day. You look across the margins where he has small dates and times in place, and various meetings are strewn across the pages. To put it simply, the entire planner is a damn mess. No wonder he had asked you to keep up with it. Just looking at it would give any normal human a headache.

You scoff, pulling out your own planner that admittedly doesn’t get much use. At least you can use the thing you had spent an ungodly amount of money on during this agreement. You look through the pages of his planner, transferring whatever information you could get into a better format into your own planner.

Along one of the pages, you find what seems to be his personal phone number. You quickly put it into your phone, making a mental note to give him a call in the morning. He probably already knows about the class, but you don’t want to disappoint, so you decide to tell him every time he has something to do, including the regularly scheduled things that are probably muscle memory to him at this point.

There’s a meeting about an hour after his first class, and then another evening class around 3. It shouldn’t be too hard to just let him know after class that he has a meeting to attend. You close the planners, putting the both of them into your bag before cutting the small desk lamp off and heading to bed.

The alarm blares loudly the next morning, pulling you out of your sleep, and within moments, you shoot up, remembering your deal with Professor Price. Your hand reaches around for your phone, finding it half stuck under some pillows. You cut the alarm off before moving to your contacts, taking a deep breath, finding his name, and pressing call.

Your nerves are on edge from the simple task of waking him up. The entire thing is now reeling in your head. What if he hadn’t wanted you to call him?

His voice is groggy when he finally picks up the phone, laced with sleep and it sends a jolt directly between your legs, “Hello?” He sounds slightly confused.

You cut to the chase fairly quickly, “It’s (y/n), found your number in your planner and thought you might want to know you have a class in an hour.” You hold your breath afterward, hoping that this is exactly what he had wanted from you.

“Right, right.” His voice comes heavy through the receiver, and you barely hear him mumble something that sounds a lot like ‘smart girl’ before he’s back to speaking to you again, “Thank you, I’ll be there on time.” He huffs a small chuckle now, and it sets your skin ablaze from the roughness of his early morning voice, “You’re proving to be quite useful already.”

It’s ridiculous what his small praise does to you, and you know that if he was there with you, you would have to keep yourself from falling to pieces, but he’s not, and you’re alone in your small solo dorm. You have free reign to lay your head back on the pillow and bask in his voice.

“Glad to be of service, sir.” Your voice comes out lower than you had wanted, but fuck, you can’t find it in yourself to care. You follow it with a light laugh.

“You’re going to be a very valuable asset to me,” You keen at the praise, and he continues to speak. “I’ll see you in class.” He finishes and the phone line goes dead. You let it rest against your chest and curse yourself.

This is gonna be a hell of a lot harder if he keeps praising you like that.