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#john price x reader
rodolfoparras · 2 days
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Thinking about dom tops x sub tops where the sub has a praise kink, and you can’t help but praise him, especially whenever he’s showing off his big dick, eyes glued to the way he’s stroking it and listening to him bragging all about how he can use it.
He’d never get to fuck you, but you’re there when he’s down on all four, ass in the air, cock buried in a silicone toy,
You’ve got one hand around his neck the other yanking at his curls, your words of encouragement and praises mingling with the sound of his grunts and groans, “just like that, keep going, such a good boy”
With each word tumbling past your lips, you see him increase the pace of his hips, now thrusting erratically into the silicone cunt, balls obscenely slapping against the toy in his hand, the muscles in his back and ass clenching with every thrust.
It doesn’t take much before he’s tipping over the edge, ropes of spilling all over the toy and his hand before he flops onto the mattress.
And as he lays there catching his breath he turns to look at you with eyes half lidded and mouth agape “was I good,sir?”
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soaps-mohawk · 8 hours
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Cherry Red, Crimson Blood
Chapter 25: Animals
Summary: As your relationship begins to shift with your pack, you find yourself with an itch you just can't seem to scratch.
Pairings: Poly 141 x reader, Kyle x Johnny
Word Count:
Warnings: NSFW, 18+, p in v sex, unprotected sex, very rough sex, big feral energy, excessive biting, blood, choking (for like one sentence), squirting (I cannot be stopped), crying, manhandling, fingering, oral (m and f receiving), cum eating, cum sharing, cock warming, reader gets folded like a chair several times, Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alternate Universe, a/b/o typical classism and sexism, some feelings, just barely a hint of angst, and fluff. (Also just in case, Price is being a tease at the end)
A/N: Uh, yeah. I don't have any excuse for this one. The same warnings as last time apply here, don't read it in public, sit down, underwear, you get the point. Enjoy you depraved heathens
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A low growl rumbles in his chest, vibrating through your entire body. This one is different, the pitch lower, the back of your neck prickling. Your legs shake at the sound, pussy clenching around him as he nearly piledrives into you. 
“Say it.” He growls, his voice rough with the edges of his alpha. It has you keening, pushing back against him. He uses the hand around your throat to lift you, bending your back almost painfully as he growls into your ear. “Fucking say it again.” 
“Alpha!” You whine, choking around his hand as his fingers dig into your neck for a moment. 
He releases you, letting you flop bonelessly on the bed as he continues to snap his hips against your ass so hard the bed slams against the wall. You can’t do anything but lay there and take it, your vision starting to go blurry from the pleasure. 
Simon’s hands frame your head, gripping the sheets as he grunts and groans over you. You stare at his arm, at the muscle in his forearm as he holds himself up, straining from the exertion of fucking you so hard your vision is starting to go blurry. You shift your head to the side, moving closer to his arm before sinking your teeth into his wrist. He lets out a warning growl, but you sink your teeth in harder, the coppery taste of blood filling your mouth. He leans down, sinking his teeth into your shoulder in retaliation until something slides down your chest. 
It’s not sweat. 
You bite harder, undeterred by his own teeth in your shoulder. You’re not giving him this one. There’s a feral urge in you to fight, to sink your teeth in a shake like a dog until he gives up. Blood trails in rivulets down to his hand and onto the sheets as he gives in, releasing your shoulder. You purr in victory, releasing his wrist. He curses, yanking his arm away before he covers your mouth with his hand. His fingers dig into your cheeks, muffling your whines and moans as he licks at your shoulder, blood slowly dripping from the wound. 
“Fucking little omega.” He grunts, his thrusts starting to get sloppy. 
You can’t do anything but moan against his hand, his thrusts pushing your clit against the side of the bed. Your breaths are rapid through your nose, your mind buzzing from the near blinding pleasure. Pleasure tickles at the base of your spine, making your legs shake to the point of nearly giving out. You’re not sure how much longer you can last, not with the way he’s pounding into you. 
He cums suddenly, his hips snapping against your ass before warmth shoots into your belly again. You moan against his hand, eyes rolling back as his orgasm fails to tire him. He picks the pace back up almost immediately, thrusting wildly into you. High pitched moans cut through the air as he releases you, pushing himself up to stand. Hands pull your hips back off the bed, fingers digging into the soft skin as your shaking legs offer no support for your body. 
His thrusts become shallower, less sloppy and more focused. Your hands curl into his sheets, certain you’re going to rip the fabric as the overwhelming feeling begins to fill you once again. 
“Alpha!” You shriek, his cock aimed for that spot inside of you again. The pressure is building, almost becoming too much. “No, no,” You whine, feeling like you might explode. You know what’s coming next, and you’re not sure you can handle another one. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” 
Your legs do give out as fluid squirts out of you, soaking Simon and forcing his cum right out of you. It drips onto the towel, your body spasming in his hold. You can’t do anything but lay there and whimper, your very veins burning from your orgasm and the overstimulation. 
Simon shoves you back up the bed, pushing his cock back inside you. You clench around him, the feeling almost too much as he starts his brutal pace back up, his hips driving you into the side of the mattress. His hand tangles in your hair, pushing your face into the sheets as he growls, rutting into you like an animal. Your body feels hot, your skin burning and your mouth getting dry from the exertion. You feel almost like you’re in heat again, the needy pleasure starting to fog your brain. 
If only he could knot you right now. That might ease the ache beginning to form in your pelvis. 
“Alpha,” You gasp, your hands scrambling back to reach his. “Alpha, please!” 
“Fuck,” He growls, releasing your hips to grab you by the shoulders, fingers digging into your skin as he uses the leverage to pull you back against him. 
Your eyes roll back, mouth hanging open as slick gushes out around him, dribbling down your thighs, mixing with your sweat. You’re close again, your sensitive pussy driving you closer and closer to the edge. Your back arches, pushing back against him as your hands lift, gripping onto his fingers. 
“Alpha, alpha please.” You whine, hands squeezing tightly around his fingers. 
He leans down, pressing his face into the back of your neck, his breaths puffing against your heated skin. He drags his tongue up your spine, lapping at the sweat coating your body. He growls, tilting his head before sinking his teeth into the back of your neck. 
You let out a high pitched shriek, your vision going black. You writhe under him, feet trying to gain some sort of traction on the floor but you can’t get your legs to work. You’re rendered nearly immobile as his teeth sink into the delicate skin, his hands slipping under you to grip the sheets. 
He continues to fuck into you, growling around your neck. Tears are leaking out of your eyes, the sounds coming from your lips a mix of sobs, moans and pathetic whines. Another orgasm wracks through you, your body shuddering under him as he sinks his teeth in until you bleed, spilling into you. 
He releases you after his cock stops twitching, letting your body go. You nearly slide off the edge of the bed but he grabs you, flipping you back over onto your back. The back of your neck is stinging as he maneuvers you up the mattress, pushing your thighs back up to your chest. His eyes are nearly black as he stares down at you, blood on his lips and dribbling down his chin. His arm is bleeding still where you bit him, smearing across his skin and yours. 
He holds your thighs against your chest as he pushes back into your sensitive pussy, still hard and almost throbbing. You can do nothing but lay there, whimpering and whining as he takes you over and over until your vision goes dark. 
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Your body aches. It pulls you from sleep, the pain waking you from your precious slumber. You let out a groan, shifting against the hard surface under you. You can’t get your arms to move, your limbs shaking as you try to get your muscles to work. You’re beginning to panic, feeling almost paralyzed. 
A hand trails down your back, rough fingers following the line of your spine. You whimper, pressing your face into Simon’s chest. 
“Easy.” His deep voice rumbles under your ear, rough and huskier than normal. 
Your throat feels raw, your tongue heavy in your mouth. You try to speak but all that comes out is a whine as you become aware of the intense throbbing between your thighs. 
“What do you need?” He asks, still stroking your back. 
“Water.” You manage to croak out, peeling your eyes open. 
Your vision is blurry, your waking brain quickly becoming aware of the pain in your body. Simon shifts under you, making you whine as the jostling just makes you aware of more pain. 
Your skin feels like it's on fire, a tingling burn stinging the back of your neck. Your neck and shoulders are sore and aching, and there's a deep thrumming pain between your thighs. As memories of the night before begin to resurface, you know you're covered in bites and bruises, dried blood caked to your skin. 
Simon shifts you again, another whine leaving your lips. He shushes you gently, pulling the blanket tighter around you as he maneuvers himself out from under you. You're laying on the floor, covered with the comforter off his bed. When you moved here, you're not sure. There’s a point where your mind goes blank, where the memories are cut off and nothing remains. 
Simon quite literally fucked the life right out of you. 
You’re suddenly aware of the chill in the room as you lose Simon’s warmth, another whimper leaving your lips. Simon gently maneuvers the blanket around you, tucking you into one side before rolling it around you until you’re immobile in a blanket burrito. You can’t do anything but watch as he digs through his dresser, pulling on a pair of sweatpants. 
“Be right back.” He murmurs before he steps out of the room, leaving you alone. 
You blink slowly, trembling slightly from the combination of the cold and your aching body. You can’t pinpoint which part of you hurts the most, your muscles feeling like you just completed a marathon without any training. You suppose you have in a way. Last night was certainly a marathon of sex, one which probably continued long after the gap in your memory started. 
Simon returns, water bottle in hand. You stare up at him as he closes the door, moving to sit on the floor again. He maneuvers you in your blanket burrito so you’re sitting up, tugging you back against his chest. You wince at the pressure between your legs and pelvis in the position, trying to shift in your confines to ease the ache. Simon unscrews the cap on the water bottle, your eyes drawn to the scabbed bite mark on his right arm. You remember doing that, sinking your teeth in until he bled, the coppery tang still on your tongue. The feral need to win the battle of wills, the determination blinding you to the pain in your shoulder where he had sunk his own teeth into you. 
One of many places. 
Simon lifts the bottle to your lips, holding it steady as you eagerly gulp down the water. It eases the ache in your throat, the dryness making your tongue feel like it was coated in sand. It’s like finding an oasis after stumbling through the burning desert. 
There’s a slight tremble to Simon’s hand as he holds the bottle for you, tilting it slowly as you guzzle down the contents. A sour edge borders his scent, something you pick up as awareness continues to return to you. Your brows furrow as you sit there, trying to make sense of the thoughts swirling through your mind as the sourness in his scent intensifies. 
You finish off the water bottle, taking in a few deep breaths. “Simon?” You say quietly, your voice not quite as hoarse as it had been thanks to the water. 
“I fucking knew it.” He breathes, his body tensing behind you. 
“Simon.” You say, trying to wiggle out of the blanket burrito you've been confined in, looking like a fish flopping around. 
You finally manage to flop yourself over his leg, rolling out of the blanket. You lay there for a moment, trying not to show any sign of the pain in your body from the exertion. You push yourself up, pushing past the pain as you lean on your arm. You're slightly out of breath from your efforts, taking a moment to breathe. 
“Fucking look at you.” He breathes, eyes trailing the brutal picture you paint sitting there. 
You raise your eyebrows, scanning his exposed skin. “Look at you.” You counter, bite marks and scratches littering his arms, and you know there's more under his shirt and mask.
You push past the confusing, contradictory thoughts, the tickling in your mind telling you to stay back, to let him work through what he has to work through and not risk making the sour scent coming off of him worse. You can’t hide the pained groan you let out as you push yourself onto shaking hands and knees, half crawling, half dragging yourself across the short distance to him. 
You plant yourself next to him with a heavy sigh, leaning on one hip as you face him. You ignore the throbbing between your thighs, the discomfort in your body as you prop yourself up in front of him, planting one hand between his thick thighs still spread on the floor. 
“Yeah, I may be hurting right now, but it's because you quite literally fucked the soul out of me.” You lean slightly so you're looking him in the eye. “I don't regret it, and I wouldn't change anything. Hell, I would have let you go another round this morning if you hadn't put me through however many rounds last night.” You can’t handle the discomfort of sitting anymore, flopping yourself back down onto the floor, resting your head on his leg as you try to find a comfortable position. “Shit, I'm gonna have to take up yoga if you keep trying to fold me into some of those positions.”
The ache in your muscles isn’t all from the lengthy activities last night. You distinctly remember having your knees pressed against your chest several times. 
“Lucky you didn't make me pull a hamstring or something.” You continue, staring up into his dubious gaze. You roll onto your side, immediately regretting it as your sore hip presses into the floor, but you refuse to show your discomfort for his sake. “If you're really that concerned, then take me to see Dr. Keller. Plop me in a wheelchair and wheel me over there.” 
You go quiet, staring up at him for a moment. He's barely moved since you flopped your way out of the blanket like a fish. You can't tell what he's thinking, only that the sourness is gone from his scent. The silence is tense despite the easing of his discomfort, hanging heavy over the both of you. You sink your teeth into your sore lip, raising your brows as you wait for some kind of response, some acknowledgement, some mutual sharing of the thoughts running through his head. It only feels courteous after he simultaneously rearranged your guts, made you cry, and fucked you like a real alpha. 
“Are you going to say anything?” You finally break the silence, blinking up at him. 
His shoulders lift as he inhales deeply, panic shooting through you for a moment as you wait for some kind of rejection or anger. “I miss when your thoughts were inside your head.”
You stare at him in surprise for a moment before biting your lip to try and hide your smile. “I thought you hated that about me.”
“I take it back.” He says, reaching forward to brush his fingers across your jaw. 
A quiet purr rumbles in your chest as you lean into his touch, nuzzling against his hand. You stare up at him, holding his intense gaze fearlessly. Something stirs in the back of your mind as a low growl rumbles in his chest. 
“Fucking hell.” He growls, moving his hand from your face to adjust his sweatpants, the musky scent of arousal thickening in the air. 
“Well, you're on your own with that.” You say, pushing yourself up from where you're laying. “I am all fucked out.” You flop over onto the floor, facing away from him. 
He hums, the sound rumbling in his chest. “Might have to call Johnny in. I'm sure he's all worked up from last night. He'd wrap those pretty lips around my cock in a heartbeat.”
Despite the deep throbbing, burning pain in your pelvis, you feel yourself becoming aroused at the mental picture of Johnny kneeling between Simon's legs, mouth wrapped around that thick cock. Will he still taste like you? Johnny would know. 
“Fuck.” You breathe, trying to calm the dampness starting to slick your pussy again. You scramble for any distraction, anything to think of besides Simon folding Johnny in half on the bed and growling as he fucks his beta just as roughly as he did you last night. “Simon?” You breathe, glad your legs are too tired to press together for friction. 
He hums, still palming himself over his sweatpants. 
“How did we get on the floor?” You ask. 
“Was between the ninth and tenth rounds.” He says. “When I made you ride me, all needy and whiny.” He shifts behind you, starting to crawl toward you. “Couldn't even lift yourself up. Touched your clit once and had you cumming immediately, sensitive little thing.”
You bite back a moan as his fingers slip between your thighs, dragging through your aching folds. “Okay, okay.” You reach back, trying to slap his hand away. “‘S too much.” You whine. “Gonna drag myself across the hall so I can take a hot bath.” 
You lift yourself up onto your arms, your legs too tired to even push up onto your knees again. You pathetically attempt to drag your body towards his door, Simon letting out a quiet sigh. He hooks his arm under your knees, tugging you back closer to him. 
He shifts up onto his knees, letting out a sigh. “Let me find your knickers and I'll take you.”
He helps you into your underwear and the shirt you wore yesterday before he scoops you up off the floor far too easily. It’s a short walk down the hallway to your room, your body still shivering a bit from the cold. 
He sets you on the edge of your bed before going into the bathroom to turn on the water for the tub. You wonder if he’ll do it, if he’ll push past that barrier and allow the intimacy of the moment, or if what had transpired last night had been enough, had pushed that barrier to its extreme. 
You watch him as he comes back out, standing in front of you. He no longer looks like the opposing figure you had once seen him as. He's still large, but he's lost the intensity and danger. Even now with his shoulders tensed and hands curled into fists, you're not intimidated or afraid. You can tell he's nervous, hesitant. This is a big move for him, and you're not sure he wants to make it yet.
“You can go get Kyle, or even John.” You say quietly, gently as you stare up at him. “I won't be upset. We've made a lot of jumps over the last few days. If you need to take a step back, I don't blame you.”
Something flashes in his eyes. Relief or maybe gratitude, perhaps both. You wouldn't blame him for not wanting to be so vulnerable, especially after the vulnerability he showed last night. It’s asking a lot of him, and you’re scared to push him too far, make him retreat into himself again after so much progress. 
“I'll...go find someone else.” He says.
You nod, giving him a small smile. “Okay.”
He turns away from you, heading back towards the door. 
“Simon?” You call and he stops, turning back to face you. “Go easy on Johnny. Wouldn't want you to hurt yourself.”
He lets out a sigh, rolling his eyes. “Fucking hell.”
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You're fighting the dampness in your underwear as you walk with John towards the med center. It's been almost three days since your first time with Simon and you've been fighting arousal almost every minute of every day. Despite the physical ache still lingering from the intense fucking you had done, you haven’t been able to stop the aching arousal from dripping into your underwear constantly. 
This isn't your normal scheduled appointment with Dr. Keller. You wanted to see her to make sure nothing was wrong. You hadn't felt like this after your first time with any of the others. Sure you had gotten aroused every time you thought about it, but it hadn't been uncontrollable like this. 
The cool air in the med center is a blessing as you head for Dr. Keller’s office, John following behind you. You shift on your feet as you wait for the door to open, the brush of your arm against John’s almost electric. You sink your teeth into your lip, trying to stop the arousal from intensifying just in the presence of your alpha. He knows something is off, probably able to smell the intense arousal that has plagued you for the last three days. You haven’t done anything about it, trying to allow yourself to rest and recover after Simon fucked the sense out of you. 
Dr. Keller opens the door after what feels like a lifetime, and you quickly inhale the calming beta scent wafting out of the room, hoping it will ease the ache between your thighs. 
“Come on in.” She says, holding the door open for you. 
You stand on your toes, kissing John’s cheek in parting before entering Dr. Keller’s office. You take your usual seat, lowering yourself gingerly into the cushions. It’s a relief compared to the brutal plastic of the benches in the mess. 
Dr. Keller sits in her usual spot at the couch, eyeing the fading marks littering your skin. “This isn’t our usual appointment.” She starts, her brows furrowing a bit as she lifts her gaze to your eyes. “Everything alright?” 
“I, uh,” You stumble over your words, not having even thought about how you’d bring this up to Dr. Keller. “There’s a situation that’s developed.” You say, leaning back in the chair to try and ease some of the ache between your legs. “I don’t know why it’s happening or why it’s started now, but uh,” You swallow the nervous lump in your throat. “Simon and I had our first time a couple days ago. Things got...heated.” You scratch at the healing teeth marks on the back of your neck. “Very heated. It was like we...” 
“Lost control?” She suggests, seeming to almost know what you were going to say. 
You nod. “Yeah. Things got a bit...rough before we even had sex and then...when we did, things got almost...violent.” The word tastes bad on your tongue, but you’re not sure how else to describe it. Rough wasn’t enough, but perhaps violent was a bit too much. “And ever since then, I’ve just been constantly horny and I don’t know what to do. It wasn’t like this with the others, not even John.” 
Dr. Keller hums, staring at you for a moment. “It sounds to me like your instincts are out of control.” She says simply. “You’re both purebreds, which means you’re both more sensitive to your instincts, scents, emotions, even physical things like body language. You’re more sensitive to each other, too. In those moments of intense emotion, it’s not uncommon for things to get a bit out of hand, for instincts to take over, especially when it’s a new relationship.” 
“That makes sense.” You say. “He always seems to just know things, sense things about me that the others don’t. Sometimes it’s like he knows what I’m thinking. Both times it happened there was just something so...animalistic about it.” 
“Mhm.” Dr. Keller hums, nodding in agreement. “There’s always a risk when purebreds are together that things may slip out of control. Your omega peeked her head out because she sensed a virile alpha, and his alpha came out to meet her. No matter how much control one has over their instincts, moments like that can throw all the hard work and training out the window.” 
“Is there a way to stop that?” You ask. 
“It will start to even out on its own to a point, as you and Lieutenant Riley adjust to one another, but there is something that may help both of you. I was going to bring this up during our next appointment, but this might be a better time. Captain Price and I discussed it while Lieutenant Riley was away.” She sits back on the couch, crossing her legs. “I know you know that purebreds have stronger instincts, and are more sensitive and aware of them. While that can be helpful in certain situations, I’m sure you also know it can be a hindrance, especially in moments of high tension or highly emotional situations.” 
You nod. “Yeah. I know.” 
“What you likely haven’t been told,” Dr. Keller continues. “Is that it’s possible to learn to balance those instincts, and even utilize them.”
You blink at her. It is news to you. No one has ever told you that was a possibility. You’ve only been taught that your heightened instincts made you more desirable, and how they can help you learn to serve your alpha and your pack. 
“Lieutenant Riley likely learned how to balance and utilize his during his military training. Regardless of if he was taught directly or not, his training taught him how to stay calm in tense, stressful, highly emotional situations. It also taught him how to utilize his instincts for his job.” 
“That’s why he can read me so easily.” You say, the pieces beginning to come together. 
“Purebreds are more sensitive to things like scents. Your noses can detect subtle changes, even lingering scents, things non-purebreds can’t. That makes it easier to read emotions, and also predict potential threats.”  Dr. Keller’s lips twitch in a smile. “That also means you’re more sensitive to things like arousal.” 
Your cheeks flush as you think of all the times you’ve been turned on by Simon during training or one of the other members of your pack. He’s known the whole time. He could sense it long before the others could. 
How did he keep control of himself for so long? 
“How do I learn to do what he does?” You ask. 
“I can help you learn to balance your instincts so you’re less vulnerable to them, but only another purebred skilled in instinctual control can help you learn to utilize them.” She says. 
You let out a breath, sinking down lower in the chair. “No one’s ever told me that was a possibility.” 
“They wouldn’t have.” She says. “There would have been no benefit for the institute to teach you how to do it. It would have made you too aware of your skills and abilities, the control you can have over others. They want subservient omegas that bow to their alpha. It’s hard to do that once you’re aware of what you could be.” 
“Can...can we do that? Work on my instincts?” You ask. 
Dr. Keller nods. “Of course. Captain Price has already voiced his approval when I spoke to him about it. I think it will be very beneficial for you to at least learn to balance your emotions.” 
“How do we start?” You ask. 
“The most important part of all of this is your breathing. I know I’ve said it before, but that’s crucial to keeping your head clear and aware. Your breathing starts to pick up, your instincts kick in.” 
You nod. “Okay.” 
“We can start with the easiest exercise, which is a trigger point exercise.” She says. “It utilizes common trigger points on your body that elicit instinctual responses when pressure is applied to them. There’s trigger points all over your body. On your legs, arms, sides, and of course, the neck.” 
You nod again. “O-Okay.” 
“We wouldn’t start with the neck, since that elicits the strongest response and would be too overwhelming at first. We’ll work up to that.” Dr. Keller says, standing up. “It’ll be easiest to do it sitting on the floor.” 
You shift off the chair, easing yourself onto the floor, sitting cross legged. You can’t help but feel nervous, despite the fact you trust Dr. Keller. You’re branching into new territory, something you didn’t even know was a thing until a few minutes ago. 
“Breathe.” She says, sitting cross legged in front of you. “The most important part of this is the breath. It’s going to feel intense, your body will react no matter how hard you try and stop it. Let it happen, let your body do what it’s meant to do and just be aware of those instincts starting to surface. Don’t think too hard on them, just let them be there and focus on your breathing. Okay?” 
You let out a breath. “Yeah.” 
“I’ll know if things start to be too much, and we’ll stop immediately.” She says. “Hold out your arms.” 
You do as she says, her hands warm as she wraps her fingers around them, supporting them. 
“Close your eyes.” She directs, her thumbs coming to rest right below the inner bend of your elbow on the inside of your forearms. “Deep breaths.” 
You take a deep breath in and she presses down with her thumbs. 
You can’t stop it as your body tenses, panic beginning to bubble up in you. It’s too much, the feelings wrong, the alarms in your brain starting to go off as your body detects some kind of threat. Your arms try to tug free of her grasp but she doesn't let go, your shoulders lifting to try and protect your neck while your hands can’t. 
Your breathing has picked up, near hyperventilating as the instincts flood your mind. You don’t know if you should run or hide or lay there and play dead. Your hands have curled into fists, fingers shaking from the adrenaline pumping through you. 
“Breathe.” Dr. Keller’s voice cuts through the alarms in your mind, reminding you of why you’re doing this in the first place. 
You fight to take a deep breath in, your breath catching and hitching in your chest. It almost hurts as you let it out, your lungs still trying to push air through rapidly. You continue to fight through the thoughts and instincts, through the natural reaction to panic about a threat that’s not even there. You’re in Dr. Keller’s office, sitting on the floor with her, trying to learn to balance your instincts. 
Slowly you begin to gain control over your breathing, easing the ache in your lungs as you take deep breaths in and let slow breaths out. The instincts begin to calm, the rational part of your brain beginning to return as you become aware of the thoughts and emotions swirling in your head. 
“Good.” Dr. Keller says, releasing your arms. 
You’re shaking just a bit as the instincts begin to ease away, the threat fading. You open your eyes, still breathing deeply as the swirling thoughts in your mind start to die down. Your shoulders have relaxed, the need to protect your neck fading away. 
“Good job.” Dr. Keller says, smiling at you. “It will take a lot of practice to master, but now you know you can do it. It’s not foolproof, there will be times where the situation is too much, but this can help keep incidents to a minimum.” 
“Thank you.” You say, looking at her, emotions starting to rise again in you. Not ones of fear or panic, though. Quite the opposite, in fact. “For everything you've done. When I first got here, I wasn't even a person. I was just a title, a status. But you and my pack have helped change that, have helped me realize I'm an actual person, not just an omega.” 
“Good.” She says, smiling softly at you. “I'm glad you're starting to unlearn the things society has taught you, and I'm glad we've been able to help you in that journey.” She takes your hand, squeezing it gently. “You are far more than your status, far more than what you can do for someone else. You are a wonderful human who has managed to keep such kindness despite everything you've been through.” 
A smile tugs at your lips, tears burning behind your eyes. “You really think that?”
“I know it.” She says, squeezing your hand again before letting it go. “Come on, let's get you back to the barracks before lunch.” 
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Breathing. That's the most important part. Just focus on your breath. 
If only it were that easy. 
You've been up since 3 AM, a painful ache throbbing in your lower belly. Your thighs are slick, your breaths coming in quiet pants from the intensity of the need pulsing through you. It's only gotten worse as the minutes have slowly ticked by. Breathing through it hasn't helped any, and neither has shoving your hand into your pajama pants. 
You huff out an exasperated breath, reaching for your phone. Your eyes scan the contacts, trying to decide who will be best to ask. You let out a breath, your finger hovering over the number of the only other person that might be up at this hour, who will be up soon regardless.
You type out the quick text, holding your breath as you click send. 
I need you. 
Your phone buzzes almost immediately with a reply. 
Come here. 
It was like he could almost sense it, waiting for you to reach out, to ask. You throw the blankets off you, leaving your phone on your nightstand and even forgoing slippers as you make for your door, blinking against the brightness in the hallway as you pad down the hall to his door.  
You knock softly before pushing it open, stepping into the darkness. It takes you a moment to adjust after the bright fluorescents in the hallway, blinking the spots in your vision away before you can make out the soft light coming from a phone screen. 
You make your way over to the bed, the body shifting to make room as you approach. You hear the deep inhale, the quiet groan as you drop your sleep pants before climbing in next to him. 
“Christ, what's got you so worked up?” His voice rumbles, a hand trailing down your side. 
“Dunno.” You say, leaning into his touch. “Woke up like this. Can't get it to stop.”
There's a quiet rustle of fabric before he's leaning down to kiss you, lips slightly chapped as they move against your own. The hand on your side drifts downward, hiking your thigh up before he slips lower, palming you over your panties. 
“Fucking hell, soaked right through.” He groans against your lips, holding his hand still as you grind against his palm. “Needy little thing.” 
“Please,” You whine, nipping at his lips. “Please.”
He curses, pushing the fabric to the side before pressing two fingers into you. They slide right in, aided by the copious slick and your own attempt to ease the ache. 
You groan quietly against his lips, his mouth moving down your throat, sucking marks into your skin to match the fading ones. Your arms wrap around his neck, holding him there as he slowly fucks you with his fingers. It’s not enough, your pussy clenching around his fingers in search of something else. Something more. 
You grind down on his hand, the ache in your belly intensifying. “Need you,” You whimper, your thighs clenching around his hand. “Please...Please Simon.” 
He groans against your throat before pulling his fingers from you, rolling over so you're on top of him. He lifts his hips, your hands gripping his sides for leverage so you don’t fall off as he pulls his sleep pants down until his cock is free, already hard and you haven't even touched him. You settle back on top of him as he lowers himself back onto the bed, your clothed slit settling over his cock. 
You drag your hips back and forth a couple times, moaning as the heat of his cock pulses through the dampness of your panties. Sweat has begun to bead on your skin and you tug your shirt off, dropping it onto the floor beside the bed. You stare at him, or at least where you assume his face is. You can’t see much, the room nearly pitch black except for the small bit of light coming in through the window. It sends a shiver down your spine, your omega begging for some kind of light, something to ease the vulnerability the darkness threatens. 
Hands grip your thighs, fingers digging into your skin. You’re brought back to reality, back into the moment. You’re sitting on top of Simon’s cock, hands pressed into his stomach. Despite the vulnerabile position, you’re hardly in danger of what the darkness might be hiding. Simon knows, he’d know even in this position. Alphas are always aware of their surroundings, always ready for a threat, especially in the presence of an omega. Nothing could ever hurt you with him this close. 
You swallow the nervous lump in your throat, easing the fear away as you take a couple deep breaths in and out. Breathing. That’s the key. 
You lift yourself up tugging your panties to the side as you grab his cock with the other hand. You drag his head through your dripping folds a couple of times before lining him up and sinking down onto his cock 
The stretch has your legs shaking. Despite having taken him before, it's almost too much at this angle. The sensations have your mind going blank, forcing every last thought except for Simon and his cock out of your mind. You begin to rock your hips, sinking down on him with every press downward. Your hands brace against his stomach, feeling the flex of his muscles under you as he fights to control himself, as he fights to let you keep control as you sink down onto him fully, sitting nestled against his hips. 
You both curse at the feeling, his grip on your thighs tightening as you give yourself a minute to breathe. 
Just breathe. Focus on your breathing. 
Simon rolls his hips up, your breath catching in your throat. Your nails dig into his stomach, all thought of control going out the window as you begin to move, bouncing yourself on his cock. 
He guides your movements with his hands, lifting his hips to meet your thrusts. You're trying to be quiet, but you can't help the moans and whines being pulled from your lips. You don't want to wake the others, draw them from their precious sleep, something you had been trying to avoid. 
Simon muffles a particularly loud moan by shoving two of his fingers in your mouth, the two that had been inside you. You can taste yourself on his skin, your tongue lapping at the two digits. 
You're going to cum soon, your thighs squeezing around his hips. Despite the fact it's only been a couple of days, the pent up frustration of constantly being horny and not being able to do anything about it has you teetering over the edge from just a few rolls of your hips and the stretch of his cock. 
His other hand moves to your clit, rubbing tight circles over the pulsing bud. It's too much, the sensations in your body and the relief of the ache inside you. You cum with a cry around his fingers, your body shuddering with pleasure. He plants his feet on the bed, thrusting up into you as he chases his own high. 
He spills into you, groaning as he makes a mess of your pussy. He yanks you down against his chest, still hard inside you, his hips rolling as he continues to thrust into you. 
You don't have to see his face to know you're nowhere near done. For once he's going to follow in Johnny's footsteps, trading his morning workout for a different one. 
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“Christ almighty, ye look like an animal got a hold of ye.” Johnny says, gripping your chin as he turns your head back and forth, his eyes scanning every mark on your skin, the old fading ones and the new ones from this morning. 
“I think one did.” Kyle says, pulling the collar of your shirt down to check for more. 
“Don’t worry, I bit him back.” You shrug. 
They both pause, sharing a look before looking back to you. 
“Did ye now?” Johnny says, releasing your chin. 
“Yup. Made him bleed.” You say nonchalantly. 
“Bloody hell.” Kyle says, releasing the collar of your shirt. 
“Feisty little thing.” Johnny says, going to poke your nose but you turn, snapping at his finger instead. 
Kyle chuckles as Johnny yanks his hand away before your teeth can close around his finger. “Don’t know what you expected, mate.” He says with a smirk. 
You lean over, sinking your teeth into Johnny’s shoulder playfully. “You’re very biteable.” 
“Am I?” He smirks, tugging you closer. “Only problem is,” He pulls your shirt collar to the side. “I bite back.” 
His teeth sink into the skin at the junction of your neck and shoulder, biting until you let out a quiet sound. He releases you, dragging his tongue across the new mark on your skin. Kyle presses up against your back, trapping you between the two of them. 
“Easy.” Kyle says, pressing a kiss to your new bite mark. “Gonna make Simon think it's a competition.” His hand settles on your waist, slowly sliding higher and higher as he presses kisses across your shoulders. 
Your scent intensifies in the air as heat begins to pool between your thighs. You squirm on the couch, seeking out relief from the ache between your legs. It’s been a steady pulsing since this morning despite the thorough fucking Simon had given you. 
“Fucking hell.” Johnny groans, shoving you back into Kyle’s chest before undoing the button of your pants, ripping them off your legs and tossing them to the floor. 
He pushes your legs up until they’re almost pressed against your chest before shouldering his way between them. You let out a quiet groan as your sore muscles are stretched, pushed into what’s becoming a very familiar position. Johnny lets your thighs drop onto his shoulders, relieving some of the ache as his hands grip your ass, holding your hips up. 
Your lips part in a gasp as he presses his face against your underwear, inhaling deeply. A long, low groan falls from his lips as your thick scent goes straight to his head. He laps at your underwear, adding to the dampness already soaking into the fabric. Kyle’s arms wrap around you, holding you still as Johnny mouths at your pussy through your underwear. 
A thrill runs through you at the thought of him eating you out on the rec room couch where anyone could walk in and see. It won’t take long for your scent to waft through the barracks, for John and Simon to realize what’s going on. All they’d have to do is walk down the hall and stand in the doorway to watch their betas make you cum. What would Simon think seeing Johnny’s head between your thighs for the first time, instead of just hearing about it? Would he lose control? Would he snap and tear Johnny away so he could fuck you again himself? Or would he hold Johnny’s head between your thighs until he makes you cum before he makes Johnny fuck you while he takes Johnny from behind? 
“Shit.” You gasp, clinging to Kyle’s arms as warmth rushes through you, forcing slick to gush from your pussy. 
Johnny moans lewdly, shoving your panties to the side before slurping at the slick dribbling from your hole. A shudder runs through you as you finally feel his mouth against your skin, your head tilting back against Kyle’s shoulder. 
“Feel good?” Kyle asks, his breath fanning your ear. 
“Uh huh.” You nod as Johnny’s tongue flicks through your folds. “Fuck, feels so good.” 
Johnny groans against your pussy, his hips rutting against the couch. You wonder if he can taste Simon on you, the three loads he dumped into your pussy this morning. You’d showered, but you know scents linger in other areas longer than others. 
You watch the flexing of Johnny’s ass as he grinds against the couch cushion, rocking his hips desperately for friction. You wouldn’t complain if Johnny bent you in half and fucked you right here. You’d take both of them happily if it means the aching in your core is eased just slightly. 
Kyle’s hand slips between your legs, gripping Johnny by the mohawk. He groans against your pussy, the sound vibrating through you. “Make her cum with your mouth and I’ll suck you off.” 
Johnny lets out a moan that would make most porn stars jealous before he eagerly slurps at your clit. The sound is wet and depraved, but you don’t care, your hips pressing against his mouth in search of more. He eats you like a man starved, slurping your slick like he’s parched and it’s the only thing that can ease his thirst. You’re a trembling mess in Kyle’s arms, hips grinding against Johnny’s face as you get closer and closer to your orgasm. 
“Gonna cum on his tongue? Gonna give him what he wants?” Kyle groans in your ear, fingers plucking at your nipples through your shirt. 
The sensations are almost too much, your thighs trembling around Johnny’s head. Kyle pinches your nipple as Johnny sucks hard at your clit, your orgasm hitting you like a runaway train. Your thighs clamp around Johnny’s head, smothering him against your pussy as you let out a high pitched whine. You’re not sure he can breathe, but you doubt he’d complain about dying from suffocation in this position. 
Johnny continues to lap at your pussy as you shake in the aftershocks of your orgasm. It’s nearing overstimulation, a whine leaving your lips as you push at Johnny’s head. Kyle sinks his fingers into Johnny’s mohawk again, letting you flop back against the couch as he hauls Johnny to his feet. 
Their lips meet in a sloppy kiss, all tongue and teeth as Kyle licks your slick from Johnny’s face, tasting you in his mouth. Your body is thrumming, pussy still fluttering as you watch them. Your lips part as Kyle sinks to his knees in front of Johnny, palming at the prominent bulge in his pants. You watch with bated breath as Kyle tugs Johnny’s pants down, Johnny’s hard, weeping cock springing free. 
Kyle wraps his hand around the base, slowly jerking Johnny’s cock a couple of times. Johnny’s eyes are blown as he stares down at Kyle, lips parted as he pants softly. His flushed face is still shiny from your slick and Kyle’s tongue, looking like the symbol of lust and depravity. You all look like it, Kyle kneeling on the floor with Johnny’s cock in hand and you laying on the couch almost half naked, bearing witness to the intimate event about to transpire. 
Kyle leans forward, dragging his tongue across Johnny’s tip, collecting the precum dripping from his engorged head. Your teeth sink into your lip as Kyle takes Johnny’s cock in his mouth, slowly sinking down his length. It’s warm in the rec room, and you're surprised there’s no steam on the windows from the heat radiating off the three of you. 
Kyle pulls back until just the tip of Johnny’s cock is in his mouth before sinking down again, taking him fully into his mouth. Johnny is panting, one hand holding the back of Kyle’s head, the other resting on Kyle’s hand where he’s holding Johnny’s hips. Kyle bobs his head on Johnny’s cock, and you can see the strain in Johnny’s body, muscles tensed as he tries to keep control, tries to keep himself from fucking into Kyle’s mouth. 
You shift on the couch, turning on your side to watch the debauched scene in front of you. Drool leaks out the side of Kyle’s mouth as he takes even more of Johnny’s cock in his mouth, his nose almost touching the trail of dark hair on Johnny’s stomach. Drool nearly seeps out of your own mouth as you watch them, so focused and in tune with each other. Johnny’s close, you can tell by the way his breathing has changed, how strong his scent is in the air. 
“Fucking, just like tha’.” Johnny moans, his accent thickening as he loses control of himself. “Feels so fucking good.” 
You stare at Kyle, your eyes dropping to the prominent bulge in his pants. An idea forms in your mind as you push yourself off the couch, slipping behind Kyle to kneel on the cool floor. The tile feels good against your heated skin, the pressure on your kneecaps forgotten as you reach around Kyle’s body, undoing his pants. You reach into his boxers, pulling his cock free. It’s hard and heavy in your hand, the thought of him being aroused just from watching you getting eaten out and sucking Johnny’s cock making your pussy pulse. Kyle lets out a groan as you begin to jerk his cock, the sound vibrating into Johnny, an echoing moan leaving Johnny’s lips. 
A string of curses fills the air from Johnny, his fingers digging into the back of Kyle’s head. “Do tha’ again.” 
You jerk Kyle’s cock in time with his own movements on Johnny’s cock, resting against his back as you watch them both. Kyle continues to moan around Johnny’s cock, his own twitching in your hand. 
“Fuck...” Kyle groans, pulling off of Johnny’s cock for a second. He continues to pump Johnny’s length as he leans back against you, his hips thrusting into your hand. 
“Feel good?” You murmur in his ear, pausing to squeeze your hand around the base of his cock. “Make Johnny cum with your mouth and I’ll let you cum.” 
Kyle groans, his free hand releasing Johnny’s hip to squeeze your thigh before he takes Johnny into his mouth again. 
“Gonnae cum.” Johnny moans, unable to stop his hips from rocking, fucking his cock into Kyle’s mouth. 
You pump Kyle’s cock faster, his hips jerking as he gets closer and closer to the edge. He lets out a long moan around Johnny’s cock, Johnny letting out one of his own as his hips jerk almost violently. His head tilts back, mouth open as he cums in Kyle’s mouth, his fingers closing around Kyle’s wrists. 
Kyle releases Johnny’s cock, shifting slightly so he can tilt his head back towards you and you know exactly what he wants. You lean over his shoulder, pressing your lips to his. Kyle passes some of Johnny’s cum to you on his tongue, the fluid salty and slightly bitter on your own tongue. You continue to kiss Kyle, drool and cum slipping down your chins as you jerk his cock faster, bringing him closer and closer to the edge. 
“Fucking christ.” Johnny curses, watching the two of you as he tucks his cock back into his pants. 
Kyle spills on your hand and the floor, moaning into your mouth as he squeezes your thigh. He pulls away from your lips, lifting your hand to his mouth to lick his own cum off your skin. 
Johnny lets out another string of curses you can’t even begin to try and translate as he watches you both. “Gonnae be the death of me.” 
You let out a laugh as you lean your head on Kyle’s shoulder, just catching a dark shadow moving away from the rec room door out of the corner of your eye. 
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Your bare feet pad silently against the cold tile as you make your way down the hallway. You shiver in the cool air of the barracks, the plain white walls offering no warmth against your bare skin. The door is cracked open but you knock anyway, not wanting to just barge in. 
“Enter.” The gruff voice calls from the other side of the door. 
You push the door open, slipping in before closing it behind you. You pad over to the desk, rubbing your eyes. 
“Hi sweetheart.” John says, leaning back in his chair to stare up at you. “You’re up late.” 
“Couldn’t sleep.” You say, moving around the desk to stand in front of him. “Missed you.” 
He sits back as you crowd into his space, straddling the chair before sitting yourself comfortably on his lap. He grunts quietly as you flop down, wrapping your arms around his neck. He shifts you just slightly, his hands resting on your bare thighs. 
You press your hips against him, resting your head against your arm as you try to get as close to him as you can. His fingers dig into your thighs for a moment before they slowly slip up under your baggy shirt. They rise higher and higher until they’re cupping your ass, squeezing your cheeks for a moment. 
“You forgot your knickers.” He says, tilting his head closer to your ear. 
You shrug, pressing your face into his neck. “Too uncomfortable.” 
He hums, picking up the arousal quickly fogging the air in the small office. “Needy little thing, huh.” He groans as you push your hips down against him. 
You let out a quiet sound, licking at his neck. “You’re the only one that hasn’t made me cum yet today.” 
His hands leave your ass, pushing you back so he can stare at your face. He cups your cheeks, staring up into your eyes. “You’re exhausted.” He says, his thumbs brushing the puffy skin beneath your eyes. 
You pout, pressing your hips closer to him. “But I need it.” You lean your head down on his shoulder. “I feel like I’m in heat.” 
“Simon has that effect on people.” He says, adjusting your position on his lap again. 
You grind down against him again, smearing your wetness on his pants. Your pussy feels raw and swollen from the events of the day, yet you can’t help the neediness, the desperation pulsing through you. Your skin feels like it’s on fire, every nerve ending alive and desperately seeking relief from the arousal pulsing through you. 
“Please, alpha.” You whine, fingers curling into his shirt. “Need you.” 
John sighs but he relents, lifting you up slightly so he can undo his pants. You lick your lips in anticipation as he frees his half hard cock, pumping it a couple times before pressing the head against your slit. You grind down against it, whimpering as it catches on your clit. 
“Easy.” He scolds you, guiding his cock to your hole, easing you down onto it. It’s only half hard, but it slides in easily thanks to your arousal. 
You let out a whine at the stretch, your legs shaking as John lowers you until you’re seated in his lap again, his cock buried fully inside of you. You clench around him, your body finally beginning to relax as you sit on your alpha’s cock. 
“I’m busy.” He says, pushing his chair back up to his desk. “Make yourself cum.” 
Your pussy clenches around him as he goes back to his work, your hips starting to rock back and forth. Your teeth sink into your lip at the sensation of his cock moving inside you, your fingers digging into his shoulders. He pays you no mind as he continues to work, his indifference stirring something inside you as you plant your feet onto the floor, pushing yourself up on his cock. 
Despite his attempts at keeping focused on his work, he can’t hide the quiet groans leaving his lips as you bounce on his lap, fucking yourself on his cock. It’s thrilling, his disinterest in what you’re doing, allowing you to use him, to take what you need. You had spent years expecting it to be the other way around, for your alpha to use you whenever he wanted, to be forced to spread your legs anywhere at any time when he got in the mood. 
Sure, you do that now, but it’s because you want to. You want to fuck your pack like an animal, you want them to take you when they feel the need, you want them to ease the ache that’s settled into your body now that the connection between the five of you has begun to change, to develop. 
This, though, this is different as you use John’s cock for your own pleasure, clinging to him as you desperately seek relief. He doesn't even have his hands on you, typing away at his computer instead, fully focused on his work. How he’s doing it, you’re not sure, though you suppose he has to be very good at staying focused even in the most distracting moments. 
You clench around him, circling your hips on his lap as you try to get a reaction out of him. He offers you nothing but quiet grunts and groans, not even looking at you as you fuck yourself on his cock. 
You lean forward, sinking your teeth into his earlobe. He finally reacts, letting out a grunt from the pain. His arm wraps around your waist, squeezing your side until you relent.
“Fucking minx.” He groans, keeping his arm locked around your back. “Gonna make yourself cum? Make a mess of my cock?” 
You whine, legs straining as you continue to bounce on his length, his cock hard and pulsing inside of you. He’s close too, you can tell by the way his breathing has picked up, by the low growls rumbling in his chest. 
You shift your hips again, moaning at the way his cock brushes against that spot inside you at this angle. You’re tempted to lift yourself up, to try and replicate the party trick Simon had shown you, but you’re too tired for that, too desperate to cum as soon as possible. You’re shaking, barely able to move as you push closer and closer to your orgasm, John’s arm around your back starting to move you, to give you support as you chase your high. You are exhausted, your body aching. Your pussy is sore from Simon this morning, your knees aching from kneeling on the rec room floor, your thighs burning from the exertion of riding both alphas in your pack in one day. 
You fall against John’s chest as you cum, slick coating his cock as you finally reach your release. You tremble in his arms as he shifts his hips under you, bucking up into you a few more times before he cums himself, spilling into you. You moan as his warmth fills you, cock twitching inside your aching pussy. 
You go to lift yourself off John’s lap but he forces you back down, pushing his cock and his release back inside you. You let out a whine at the feeling, your pussy fluttering around him. 
“You wanted my cock so badly,” He growls in your ear, his arm still hooked around your back. “Then you can sit here on it until I’m done.” 
You let out a quiet whine, legs squeezing around his hips as he releases you, returning to his work again. You lay your head on his shoulder, breathing deeply as you focus on the feeling of his softening cock inside you. His cum is slowly sliding out around his cock, your hips twitching every so often as you try to ignore the feeling of him buried inside you. 
A shaky breath leaves your lips as you sit there, clinging to him as the ache between your legs finally starts to fade, eased away by your alpha’s cock buried inside your pussy. 
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ceilidho · 2 days
Text
take me home, country road
[ao3]
You have nothing on your person apart from a hastily packed suitcase and the dress you came into town wearing, on the run from trouble back home. Too bad John's missing a bride that matches your description. Or: the 1800s (mistaken) mail order bride au (chapter 15)
first chapter >> last chapter
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Sleep eludes you. You toss and turn that first night, not used to sleeping on your own. Every sound makes you jump. When the sky goes black and the bushes rustle with the breeze, you have to double check the locks on the doors no less than three times, fastening it with the wooden bolt just to be safe. 
Without John around, the world is twice as loud; crickets chirp raucous melodies, buzzing so loud that sometimes you swear there must be one on the pillow right beside your head, and, in the distance, an owl hoots at an interval so irregular that each screech tugs you back from the brink of sleep. The house groans as it settles into itself; the first time you hear it, you spring upright in bed, heartbeat erratic, certain that it’s the sound of someone coming up the porch steps. 
You collapse back onto the mattress with a huff when you finally recognize the sound for what it is. 
You don’t sleep well that night. Dawn finds you awake before its arrival. The songbirds keep you from drifting off back to sleep when the first wispy rays of sunlight creep over the horizon, and you lie in bed until the possibility of sleep is well behind you. That makes you huff, bitter over the loss. 
Again, the day is slow to come over you. It seems almost reluctant to really get going, the sunlight clear and the air brisk but the day itself slow moving. An early morning chill forces you to don heavier garments than usual. 
After breakfast, you take Buttercup into the paddock to run around, watching her from the edge of the pen, humming to yourself under your breath. 
Most of the morning is spent cleaning and doing chores around the house. You muck the stables, feed the horses, scrub the dirty laundry on the washboard before hanging it up on the line, weed the garden, and promise yourself that next week you’ll work up the energy to boil linseed oil to polish and oil the furniture. As it is, you stagger into the kitchen around midday for lunch, sticky with sweat. 
Kate comes up the path on horseback not too long after that, a large swooped hat perched precariously on her head. She has to hold it in place by the brim to keep it from flying off. You watch her from the window at first, drying your hands from the quick wash you gave them after finishing your lunch.
“I ought to start making new friends,” you quip when she takes a seat next to you on the porch swing. 
“Sick of my company already?” she laughs. 
“Well, a girl’s gotta have options.” 
She snorts at that, tipping her hat lower on her head to shade her eyes from the sun. It has the effect of cutting a wide shadow across her face, leaving only a swath of white teeth exposed. 
Her beauty has always come as an afterthought. Tanned, freckled skin, and hair like golden wheat. But you look now and you see something different than the woman you’re used to seeing, and it dawns on you that what you’re seeing now is a version of Kate divorced from the idea of her that you’d always had in your head. Almost fuller; more robust. 
You tear your eyes away only when she catches you staring and cocks an eyebrow. 
She coaxes you into saddling Buttercup up and accompanying her on a trail ride. Part of you resists initially, still wounded from your last ride, and when Kate presses you for more information, you reluctantly divulge, recounting the events from the weeks prior with a tremble in your voice. She nods only once while you speak, keeping her comments to herself. That she must have already known doesn’t surprise you; she’d insinuated as much only the other week. 
You’d be wise to not keep secrets from Kate in the future, you realize. Best to keep someone as omniscient as her on your side. 
After some encouragement, she talks you into a leisurely stroll and even helps you dress Buttercup in the stables. The dizzying spell of apprehension settles over you like a heavy fog up until you blink and realize that the two of you have been riding beside each other in silence for the better part of a half mile. 
The fear doesn’t entirely evaporate, however. Any sudden dip in the terrain or unexpected noise from Buttercup makes you start. You take several breaks to breathe and walk around. At the top of a hill, you ask Kate in a voice verging on shrill if you can take a break and dismount before she’s even answered you. 
“She can sense if you’re on edge,” Kate reminds you, nodding to where Buttercup grazes in a nearby patch of grass. 
“Well, I can’t help that much. I am on edge.”
She tips her head back to look at the sky and sighs before looking back at you. “Sit down for a bit then. It’s not a race.”
And you do, for a spell. You sit and rest with your back against the trunk of a tree that branches high above you, the canopy blotting out any sunlight save for the tendril thin strands that sink through like stones in water. 
You’re striking a delicate balance between the needs of the flesh and the needs of the soul. What the soul wants is to push itself beyond the boundaries that formerly enclosed it; after a lifetime of servitude and desires suppressed, even a simple trail ride feels momentous. What the flesh wants, however, is to shade in the shade until the urge to retch wears off. 
The walk takes the two of you by a farm with a large, fenced-in enclosure. A couple houses sit around the enclosure. The smell of the livestock is pungent at first and your nose wrinkles as you approach the farm, but you adjust after a time. 
Recent weeks so far from home have spoiled you; back in the city, the pungent stench of waste and manure was commonplace, the sour cloak of tobacco stinking up the alehouses and alleyways as much as the parlors and lounges. You’d adjusted to it back then as well. 
The grazing cows rumble and low behind the fence. It’s a pleasant bucolic scene, one lifted straight from a painting that you swear you’ve seen before, though the artist’s name escapes you. 
Looking out into antediluvian pastures sets your heart at ease. When the farmer wanders out of the barn to greet the two of you, the two of you join him and his wife for coffee in the big house. 
For a brief period of time, it’s like stepping out of your body; there’s no impetus to get a move on, and inertia doesn’t set in like a rolling fog leaving you stranded in no man’s land. Nothing like the late evenings lying in bed in your aunt and uncle’s apartment, staring up at the pockmarked ceiling and praying for something to change. 
You, simply, have a coffee.
After bidding them farewell, the bulk of the afternoon is spent at Kate’s house, a tiny plot of land just outside of town surrounded by fields of ochre prairie grass. You’re wiped by the end of the ride, sweat running in rivulets down your back. While Kate brings the horses into her little stable to let them rest and eat, you fill up the porcelain bowl in her bathroom with water to wash your face. 
It’s quiet. You help with a few affairs around the house and you learn, to your own internal amusement, that Kate hums through her chores. Soap stops by in the early evening to drop off Kate’s mail and stays for supper, glad for the company. You watch bemusedly as he scarfs down three corned beef sandwiches with ease, mildly nauseated by the way he talks with his mouth full. 
“Can he even breathe?” you hiss to Kate while Soap is busy shoveling food into his gob. 
She nods, unbothered by the display in front of her. “You should see him when he’s actually hungry.”
You pale when he belches, pushing your plate away from you.
“Ye tell yer man when he’s back what a good job I’ve done, Mrs. Price,” he says, licking a leaking trail of sauce off his thumb. 
“Won’t the town still standing be sufficient evidence?”
“Aye, but it’s sweeter comin’ from the missus, ye dinnae think?” 
Incorrigible boy. You shake your head, acquiescing even if only to get him to shut up. That mollifies him, gets him crowing about the raise he’ll get, or the commendation. You think he’ll start going on about lofty aspirations towards sheriffdom, but he never quite gets to that point. You wonder if the rest of your life will be similarly composed of assumptions that fall flat when you look at them too hard.
He takes you home at the end of the night as a favor to Kate, who watches you from the door until she disappears into the faraway. You only have to yell at Soap twice to slow down when he tries to goad you into a faster gallop. 
You sleep better that night, but only just. This time, it’s the empty spot beside you on the bed that bothers you. His pillow is cold when you reach over to touch it. Your hand lingers on the pillow; there’s a passing thought that maybe the warmth of your hand will transfer into the pillow and trick you in sleep. You have another passing thought that maybe somewhere out there, wherever John is, he’ll feel a phantom hand creep across the bed to cup his cheek. 
The blooming flower of daylight comes again to wake you up and the cycle starts anew. 
The chores never end, but there’s some comfort in routine. Regularity breeds familiarity. Any contempt has long been bled out of you, almost without you even noticing.
The days pass slowly. A horse-drawn carriage. A robin nestled in the branches of a pine tree sings at evening twilight. You look up to find it stark against the dark green needles, the fir’s red heart.
A neighbor comes by with fresh strawberries that you eat from the bowl out in the sun, lying down in the grass by the paddock. You suck the juice out of a big one when you bite into it and it drips messy down your chin. When the achenes fleck off, you wipe them off on your dress. 
Though you half expect Kate to come by, she never does. Perhaps she’s busy in town. You remind yourself that the brevity of your friendship can hardly measure up to competing priorities. Minding the shop, for instance, or stopping by to check on other acquaintances. 
And then the waiting ends when you see a dark shadow on the horizon that you recognize all at once as a man on horseback headed towards the house. 
Elation clambers up your throat. You very nearly shout at the sheer sight of him, but at the last second, you manage to reign it in. 
You wave at John from the porch when you can finally make out the face of the man riding up the path. Despite the euphoric wave that washes over you at the sight of him, you feign composure, keeping your butt planted on the porch swing until he dismounts and heads down the path towards you.
There's something striking about watching him from a distance. Like Kate, you see him now from a new angle, an added weight to him. When he lumbers up the porch steps, you don't just see the man that dragged you to the court house and forced you to marry him, but a man in his prime. Square, masculine jaw; thick thighed. Something in your belly stirs when he rolls his shoulders back, accentuating the breadth of them. 
When he reaches you, he grips you under the arms to pull you up, but your arms wind around his neck without any coaxing, meeting him halfway. Every inch of your body presses into his, and he smells and feels exactly as you remembered. 
“Been missing you like hell, sweetheart,” John rasps into your ear. 
“Missed you too,” you mutter, lips smushed into a kiss against his cheek. 
And you did, didn’t you? You can say it for once without worrying that you’ll fall apart. 
The two of you stumble into the house in a daze. Your hands are already trembling well before you fist them into John’s hair to drag him into a kiss. Desperation claws up your throat, need choking you when you go to tell him how much you missed him. You missed him bone deep. 
He pulls away briefly, chuckling when you whine. “Darlin’, can I at least get cleaned up? I’m a mess.”
His beard has grown since you last kissed him, the mutton chops more pronounced now. It scratches your lips and cheeks when you tug him back down for a deeper kiss. He can clean himself later as far as you’re concerned. You’ve gone three days now without your husband and you can’t go a second more. 
You can feel his smile when he breaks the kiss again. “Honey—”
“No,” you cut him off, a whine threading your voice. You tighten your arms around his neck, pushing your bosom into his chest. “Please, John, don’t make me wait; I can’t—”
“Alright, alright,” John sighs, and then hunches slightly to fit his hands under your thighs  and hike you up his body until your legs wind around his waist. “Poor girl. Never seen you this needy before. You missed me that bad?”
“Yes,” you answer succinctly, already pressing kisses into the sweaty skin of his neck and his cheeks. His arms shake when he laughs.
He nearly trips up the stairs when you suck at the salty skin of his neck. 
John smiles amusedly when you whip your dress off, nearly getting tangled in it before letting it pile on the floor by the bed. 
In a different time, your eagerness might embarrass you, but you’re well beyond that now. It’s impossible to hear that distant voice in your head shrieking modesty when your husband watches you indulgently and unbuttons his shirt so slowly that you nearly bark at him to hurry it up. And then you actually do when he goes to fold his shirt instead of simply tossing it to the floor.
He laughs; it sends frissons of heat down your spine. 
It’s unclear who pursues and who is pursued this time. All you know is that you either push him onto the bed or he pulls you down with him, clothes long since stripped and piled onto the floor. Your hands sink into the meat of his chest when you sit astride his lap, wet folds grinding on the hard shaft jutting up between his legs. John hisses through clenched teeth, already worked up, fit to burst. You wonder if he tended to himself at all on his trip, whether he even had time. 
The hands tightening around your waist tell you that, whether or not he did, it’s inconsequential now when faced with the thing he’s been wanting most.
Your instinct is to lift your hips and line his member up with your sopping entrance before sinking down, but John surprises you by shifting up the bed and dragging you with him, not stopping until your pussy is hovering over his mouth. 
It’s easy to panic over that, easy to grow skittish. You start when the flat of his tongue runs up the seam of your cunt, the only thing keeping you from tumbling off the bed altogether being the big hands clamped around your hips.  
“You try to keep your pussy off my face and I’ll give you a licking you won’t like anywhere near as much,” John warns, and then pulls you down onto his face without further ado. 
Your back arches at the first lick, his tongue burrowing into your hole, softened by the slick leaking out of you. His lips and tongue work you over until you’re a shivering, coiled mess on top of his face, hands braced against the wall and toes burrowing into the mattress. 
A stiff tongue stabs up into your hole. The groan he lets out at the taste of you vibrates through you, making you clench around his tongue. 
You’ve never been much of a drinker, but you feel drunk now, grinding on his mouth. Hands running through his hair. Blissed out, sex leaking, throbbing. Shameful noises pouring out of you unbidden, your inhibitions packed up and long gone by now. His upper lip glistens with your juices and when his eyes blink open, they’re nearly black with desire. 
The hands on your bottom holding you over his head grip into you good and tight. He readjusts his hold on you whenever you try to pull off his face, yanking you back down and digging his fingers in harder, the tips wedged between your cheeks. You practically yowl when a finger prods at your back hole, worrying over the puckered flesh. 
The time for gentle words is far beyond him. When you glance down between your legs, his hair is matted with sweat and disheveled, a flush high on his cheekbones. Blue eyes peer out through slits, locked on the dripping mess between your thighs. His nose presses hard into your pubic bone when he pulls you down onto his waiting mouth, lips parting and tongue sawing over your clit. That part you can’t see, but you feel the wet slide of his tongue over your slit. 
You come with a finger lodged knuckle deep in your ass and his tongue rolling over your clit, coaxing it from you. Your whole body pulses and shivers. Chuckling to himself when you go dumb during it, slumped over him and panting hard. Tears dripping down your cheeks that John cleans up himself with his tongue when he drags you back down his chest and rolls the two of you over. 
“God, you look so pretty like this, honey,” he coos when he’s got you under him, pinching your cheeks between his fingers until your lips go plump and pursed. 
When he drags you into a kiss, his tongue still tastes of you. 
He takes you on your back after that, knees over his shoulders and bending you in ways you didn’t think possible. Whatever control he had before is gone now. He thrusts in to the hilt the second he gets you flat on your back, taking three days of frustration out on you, near punching your cervix with the head of his cock. 
“There we go— fuck—” John growls. “C’mon, squeeze me tight, honey; make me come in your pretty fuckin’ pussy.”
You feel like a creature turned inside of itself. All high yips, sharp pangs of pleasure, an ache in your hips that you know instinctively will worsen by morning, and a deep seated, unquenchable need. He mates you like a beast in heat, jaw clenched and brows furrowed; when your eyelids slip shut, he growls at you to keep them open, and you do only to find him staring down at you with that indelible, maddening intensity of his. 
“Nngh, John—John—” you gasp.
“Just a little, darlin’—shh, c’mon, just take it. Like that, yes—that’s it.” 
A dark urge flutters under your skin, blinking its eyes open. You stare up at him through half lidded eyes. “Gonna come in me and give me a baby, John?”
His eyes go black. “I’m gonna fill this tight cunt right up, you keep talking like that.”
You reach up to rake your hands through his hair. "Please give me a baby, John. Give me it, please."
His hips snap forward, knocking the breath out of you. He pounds into you with renewed vigor, lost in it, your nipples tagging his chest with every thrust. 
If you could peel back your skin and tuck him into your ribcage, you would. He’s already in you anyway; everywhere it counts. Leathery musk wafting under your nose, sweat-slicked skin, his spend deep in your cunt and leaking out around his throbbing cock, the heat steaming off him and warming you from the outside in and inside out. His come spurts into you hot and viscous, so deep that you swear you can taste it at the back of your throat. 
In the aftermath, you curl up against his chest and he traces a finger lazily up and down your spine. 
“You’ve been so patient with me.” You don’t know what prompts you to say that, but you know it’s been sitting in your chest and waiting for you to put it to words. 
His fingers pause in their ministrations, his hand resting flat on your back. “Patient?”
“Don’t play dumb, John. It doesn’t suit you.”
“Got some nerve accusing me of playing dumb,” he chuckles softly, leaning down to butt his forehead against yours. 
You nearly go cross eyed. Doe eyed. Treacle tart soft in your chest. You wonder if you’ll look back on this someday in fear and awe, and think that is the very moment when you finally let him in. 
This is how love suffuses into the girl: you wake up gasping to find it staring down at you. 
You’re brave enough now to ask what it is that you need. The world flashes briefly before you: in it, you see every possible version of a girl, how she goes from animal skin to teeth glinting in the night. She is perforated and vibrating; lacunae as the voice drips back into the sea, papyrus crackling hot in the fire. 
Maybe new love flounders again against the rhythms of the old, the song of you now sleeping beneath an alder tree, thickening with lemon and honey.
“I’m going to…—you know I’ll tell you. I just need time.”
“Darlin’, I know. There’s no use for rushing things. It happens when it happens,” John murmurs. He drops a bristly kiss on your forehead. 
“…And if it doesn’t happen?”
He shrugs. “Then it doesn’t happen.”
It’s a shock when love finds you because you don’t expect it. You’d open the door to anything else in a heartbeat, but it’s love that finds you cowering under the stairs. 
Love is not something you’ve ever touched, not even grazed. You recognize the insidious rot of lust or the gnarled grip of possession, but love? That has yet evaded your attempts on it. Not that you’ve ever given it a good go. 
But now, when you think of it, it looks at you through blue eyes. 
You sleep on it. You don’t contemplate when it’ll happen only because you know it’s inevitable. Your lips have already grown loose. When he eats you out in the early morning hours after a good night’s sleep for once since John left, you have to swallow back the wails of I love you, I love you, tell me you love me, please, please. 
Your lips part, lax. Only sinking your mouth down over his turgid length after he’s made you come keeps you from accidentally saying the words. The soft, grunted fuck he lets out at that empties out any thought in your head.
Desperate times, desperate measures. 
If John knows, he jealously guards your secret. Would take it to his grave you think. Just for him and you to know. Any temerity from the night before is squashed in the light of day, and you sit across from him at the table during breakfast wishing that he could hear the words in your head, if only so you didn’t have to say it out loud. 
God bites the lip when you want it most to part. Isn’t that just the nature of life?
John leaves you off at the general store as always, dropping a peck to your lips before heading out on his way, but when you wander inside, you find Miles behind the counter instead of Kate. That dims the excitement in your chest a tad. It’s no fault of his, but you’d hoped to regale Kate with the revelation you’d had the night previous, omitting some of the lewder details. Instead you’ll be forced to wait until she’s back in town. When you ask Miles when abouts that’ll be, he shrugs, unable to give you a definite answer.
“Visiting a friend, she said,” he tells you, and you blink like you don’t know exactly what that means. 
Her absence leaves you in a lurch though, little else to do but wander around the store. You’d leave entirely and try to find something else to occupy your time, but you feel a bit foolish coming in just to leave right away, though you’re sure Miles wouldn’t care either way. Still, you tell yourself you’ll linger for a few minutes before heading out to the library or down the road for a coffee at the inn. 
The bell over the door jingles, but you pay it no mind. 
You linger in the aisle with the fruit preserves and canned fish, gazing into the bottles. Tins with hand-drawn labels, branded packaging. On another shelf, you find oyster crackers, National Biscuit Company on the label. Nabisco. If Kate were minding the shop, you’d pop your head around the aisle to ask her what corned beef brand she used the other day. 
The sound of spurs jangling from behind you makes you frown and turn your head. 
A hand clamps down over your mouth, muffling the yelp that leaps instinctively from your throat, and you go shock cold when the blunt muzzle of a pistol wedges against the small of your back. 
“Bet you thought you were clever gettin’ me out of town, didn’t you, girl?”
Your eyes widen.
714 notes · View notes
gloomwitchwrites · 3 days
Note
morning after one night stand with 141?
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Anon! You have me kicking my feet and giggling over here!! I am cackling so hard omg. I've been waiting for a prompt like this, and I know it has been sitting in my inbox for a while. (Really there are a ton sitting in my inbox and I will get to them all I promise). But after feeling like garbage and having some health issues, this prompt just came to me naturally and I didn't need to force anything. I thought it would be best to tackle this first on my dive back into fulfilling these requests after the 1k follower event.
I went spicy with this one. I won't lie. Because, let's be real, a morning after with any of these four will only end up with you still in that bed. I know I'd fold instantly. No question about it.
Content & Warnings: swearing, unprotected piv (wrap it up irl), creampie, feelings, oral sex (male & female receiving), sex w/ and w/o condoms, vaginal fingering, dirty talk, aftercare
Word Count: 3.6k
For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE
ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // imagines & what if series masterlist
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John Price
The ceiling fan above you spins slowly. It’s not nearly enough air. Your skin is sticky with sweat, and you’ve hardly slept at all.
The sheets you’re tangled in are thin, but what can you expect from a cheap hotel?
All of this was last second. A moment of tipsy-laced passion. Now you’re reaping the consequences. And the air is too damp, too hot, too—
Fuck.
You glance to your right, at the man softly snoring beside you. All the memories from last night appear before your eyes, replaying like a grainy recording. Images of all the positions this man put you in, and how fucking good his dick felt inside you.
Even now, you still feel the slight sting in your scalp from when he tangled his fingers in your hair while you took him into your mouth.
You need to leave. You need to leave with a thread of your dignity in tact before he wakes up. Before John wakes. You know the name well enough. He had you screaming it nearly all night. Insisted on it, and you happily obliged.
Shifting slightly, you shimmy to the very edge of the bed, trying your hardest to sit up without making too much noise or rocking the bed.  Swinging your legs around, you push up, coming to an upright position, feet planting firmly on the floor. Between your legs is a mess. You don’t have to see it to know.
Most of the night, John used condoms. But when the two of you finally curled up together, John had slid his hand between your thighs and parted you just enough to push right on in. You didn’t protest. You had sighed heavily, and then groaned when he rocked his hips, moving inside you.
In the moment you didn’t care. Not one bit. In a way, you still don’t, but what the fuck were you thinking?
You breathe in deep through your nostrils and then exhale slowly through your mouth. Lingering won’t help. You need to collect your clothes from the floor and leave.
As you open your eyes, and blink, you’re faced with your reflection. The full-length mirror against the wall shows the carnage from the night, but it’s not your appearance that has you pausing.
It’s John.
He’s awake.
And he’s staring right at you.
“You leaving me already?” His voice is husky. Sleep-tinged. The sound of it goes straight to your pussy.
“No,” you reply automatically.
He yawns, muscled chest flexing. “You’re lying, love.”
Your limbs do not cooperate. Move. That’s what you need, but your body isn’t listening. It’s melting instead, wanting to draw back into his arms.
“Am I?”
He nods, and rubs his large hand across his chest. The dark hairs there are tempting. You remember running your hands over those pectorals, and how your fingers dug in as you used him to rock back against his cock.
John pushes up and reaches over, that hand pressing against your back lightly, rubbing soft circles.
Fuck.
“Come here,” he says softly, and yet it isn’t soft at all.
It’s not pleading. It’s not exactly a command. John isn’t demanding anything and yet you are unable to form any will of your own. It’s like John has just taken a shot of whiskey.
Finally, your limbs move, but it is not away from him. Your feet find the bed again, and John is grabbing onto your thighs and waist, drawing you back. The whimper you release when both of his hands grasp the backs of your thighs as he pulls you into his lap is obscene. It’s silly. Downright ridiculous.
But it’s cut off. Cinched.
John’s mouth is on yours and then you’re kissing him. It is open-mouthed. A bit messy. But fuck is it good. His hands slide up your thighs, over the curve of your ass, and meander their way over your back. One arm wraps around your waist while the other comes up to your throat.
He won’t let you leave. He won’t allow you to slip away. John’s hand seems so large against your throat, and yet you don’t care. It’s possessive the way he claims your mouth. When you begin to wiggle, John growls, and you’re flipped onto your back.
John doesn’t cease kissing you, and his hands are everywhere. Your legs effortlessly part from him, and you feel his hard cock pressing against your thigh.
What’s one more? Couldn’t hurt.
You shift your hips, and it’s like John already knows. Drawing your legs up and into a more bent position, there is little effort in the way he buries himself to the hilt. You almost choke on your next breath but that is all you have.
There is nothing lazy or soft about this. John’s hips snap forward and back, skin smacking against skin. He presses his face against the side of your head, lips brushing along the lien of your jaw as he continues to relentlessly fuck you into the bed. Your hands claw at his back, fingers digging for a semblance of steadiness.
“Can’t leave yet,” he huffs against your throat.
Your face shifts toward him and John takes this opportunity to find your lips again, and this kiss is so much different. It is passionate, and speaks to something more desperate than a mere need.
This is only supposed to be a night. A fun, drunken fuck you can latch onto your belt.
But no. That’s not what this is.
Not really.
John "Soap" MacTavish
The air conditioning kicks in, and that is what wakes you. A cool burst of air travels over your skin, making you shiver, pulling you from sleep.
You groan, snuggling against the warmth you’re curled against. It’s a comforting warmth. A bit soft with some hardness too. Not completely comfortable but better than the blast of cold air.
When you sink further against this warmth, it shifts beneath you. Dazedly, you blink, pulling back slightly from this nice heat you don’t wish to leave. Your cheek grazes against something scratchy and then you’re frowning down at chiseled pectorals.
The night before comes rushing forward. It is a battering ram of information, one that sends your already foggy brain into overload.
“Morning, love.” The husky, Scottish voice grounds you, slamming you back to reality.
You twist slightly and are greeted by soft blue eyes and a lazy smile.
“Johnny,” you murmur.
“Remembered my name,” he laughs. He reaches over to grasp the back of your thigh, drawing it over his waist. That large hand of his squeezes gently and you shiver.
“You remember mine?” you ask, teasing back.
He hums softly, and then draws you in, whispering your name against your lips.
This was a one-time thing. A quick hookup. You met Johnny at a pub. He had zeroed in on you instantly, making his way toward you with eagerness like he knew he wanted you out of everyone there that night.
And you had melted. Complied. Fallen for his Scottish accent that only seemed to thicken the more he drank. He cracked jokes, and gave you all of his attention. It was nice to be wanted for once, and when he discreetly asked you if you wanted to go back to his place, you didn’t hesitate.
But the morning is here. It has come calling. And now you’re left with the consequences.
“I need to go,” you murmur, drawing away from him.
Embarrassment is starting to sink in. You have no idea what you might look like at the moment but it can’t be anything other than a mess. Your makeup is likely smeared, hair tangled like a bird’s nest, and you fucking ache everywhere.
Which is fucking understandable because Johnny has stamina. You’ve never been with a man with such quick recovery time. He’d finish, take a couple minutes, and come right back at it like he wasn’t winded at all. He also put you in all sorts of weird positions.
No wonder you’re sore.
Johnny’s face falls slightly, and his arms tighten, keeping you crushed against him. “Don’t want to stay for a bit? Could grab some breakfast.”
He’s offering it to you casually as if your rejection won’t mean anything, but you see the hesitation in his gaze. Johnny wants you to say “yes” and yet you don’t know why. It could just be a show of kindness. An offering of nourishment after the workout he put you through last night. But perhaps it’s something more?
No. That’s silly. Ridiculous.
The two of you met just last night. If anything, the two of you have only known each other for twelve hours. That’s hardly enough to go on.
But breakfast sounds lovely.
When you don’t answer right away, Johnny adjusts his hold on you. His face draws close, gaze lazily scanning your body. Slowly, he moves in, brushing his lips against your shoulder, and then the curve at your neck.
“Or we could stay here for a bit longer.” He presses a kiss to your throat. “Breakfast after?” Johnny’s hand changes position, slipping up to grasp the curve of your ass. His body twists, and you feel his hard cock against the inside of your thigh.
Your pussy immediately clenches, remembering all the things he did to you. You attempt to push the feeling aside but it only grows, flowing outward, zapping your self-control.
“Johnny,” you whimper as his hand ventures further downward, sliding between your legs.
His fingers part your pussy, and the sound of the mess between your legs reaches your ears. The two of you didn’t use condoms last night, but you’re both clean and you went for it. It seems overly loudly in the room, and Johnny’s breathing quickens slightly as he explores.
“Don’t mind me adding to this?” His lips come down on your neck before his teeth lightly sink in.
Your lips part and you cry out as Johnny slips a finger inside your pussy. He takes his time, slowly moving in and out of your pussy. Lazily, his thumb brushes over your clit. He repeats the gesture, and your hips buck against his hold.
“Staying?” he asks, lips brushing over collarbone to descend downward to your breasts.
His actions aren’t fair. This isn’t how things are supposed to go. He’s supposed to kick you out. To tell you to leave either politely or like an asshole. Instead, Johnny is trying everything to get you to stay. And you can’t say you’re all that mad about it because—fuck, this man knows how to use his fingers.
Johnny runs his tongue over your nipple and you nearly come undone right then. Your hips flex forward, pushing your clit against his palm. He inserts a second finger, and Johnny groans against your breasts as your orgasm builds toward its peak.
“Stay,” he says, and you squeeze around those two digits, gasping for air as your fingers dig into his pectorals.
Johnny withdraws and rolls you onto your back. You spread your legs gladly, your orgasm still buzzing under your skin. He boxes you in, the head of his cock pushing in. All that soreness returns but it is fleeting. Once he’s seated entirely inside you, you hardly care.
“I’ll stay,” you gasp as he rocks his hips.
“For breakfast, too?”
“Whatever you want.”
Simon "Ghost" Riley
When you awaken, it’s a jolt. A sharp shake.
You blink, not recognizing your surroundings for a moment. Hazy memories bubble up to the surface. There was a man with blonde hair and scars. There was whiskey. Lots of it. A bottle shared between you and him.
His hand kept straying to your thigh, squeezing with intention. You leaned in, asked if he was interested in going elsewhere.
This is elsewhere. And it’s not a hotel.
Simon.
You remember him now. His gruff voice, his large hands on your body, and the way he stripped you down in seconds before his mouth sought supple skin. Your cheeks heat with the memory, and you absently press your palm there, the warmth radiating into your fingers.
Glancing over, you find the bed empty. Reaching out, you test the sheets, finding them cold. Simon has been gone a while, but this is no hotel room. It’s too personal, which means he’s somewhere. This must be his home.
If you’re careful, maybe you can slip out. You sit up, and listen. Quiet. No running water or feet padding softly against the floor. The bathroom door is ajar and the light is off. Simon might be out in the kitchen or living room—or he might be gone.
That’s happened before. You’ve awoken only for the man to be gone, leaving you alone in his home to put yourself together and make an exit at your convenience.
It’s…fine.
Simon was a good fuck. You can’t complain on that front. He knew exactly how to work your body. He found all your spots—all the things that make you melt—and stuck with it.
Sighing heavily, you crawl out of the comfortable bed. Your limbs scream in protest, soreness making itself known in places you’ve never been sore before. It’s a game finding your discarded clothes on the floor. With only a sliver of sunlight from the window, you’re forced to grab and hold the item up in the air to determine if the clothing item is yours or Simon’s.
“Finally,” you mutter, identifying your shirt. It’s halfway over your head when you hear the front door. “Fuck,” you hiss, only tangling yourself further.
You take a step back only to smack your leg against the bed. It sends you backwards, sprawling onto your back. You manage to sit up and wrestle your shirt on when Simon enters the room.
He stands in the doorway holding a plastic bag, and wearing a black tracksuit. Simon’s hair is a bit of a mess like he quickly ran his fingers through it before leaving.
“Hi,” you say weakly, because you can’t stand awkward silence.
“Leaving?” asks Simon, but he doesn’t sound upset.
You shrug, and swallow down the lump in your throat. “What’s in the bag?” you reply, switching tactics.
Simon is quiet a moment before he reaches in and tosses something to you. You manage to catch it without fumbling it.
Glancing down, you look at the box. At the—oh.
“We ran out last night,” he states simply.
It suddenly grows hot in the room.
“We did,” you agree, clutching the box of condoms like it’s a lifejacket.
He bought more. Which means—
“You’re welcome to leave,” he says, crumbling up the bag and setting it on top of the dresser. Simon reaches into his pocket and deposits his keys along with his phone. Unzipping his jacket, Simon reveals bare chest.
When the jacket is gone, Simon is left in only black joggers. He’s on full display. Broad shoulders, muscled arms and chest, large hands that perfectly wrapped around your throat as he bent you over and fucked you from behind.
“Is that what you want?” you ask, but you already know the answer. If Simon really wanted you gone, he wouldn’t have left to purchase another box of condoms.
“It’s what you want,” he replies. Simon is so calm—so casual. He’s not moving away from the door. He stands there, shirtless, gaze intense.
You sigh loudly and glance down at the box of condoms. “You did go out of your way to buy these.”
By the time you glance up, Simon is right there, grasping your throat, easing your head upwards so that you can look at him. With his other hand, he takes the condoms and tosses them onto the bed.
“You’re staying.” It’s not really a question, more of a confirmation.
You nod once and Simon’s thumb brushes over your bottom lip. That soft touch is enough to part your lips, and Simon makes a noise deep in his throat that sounds like a groan.
“Take me in your mouth,” he rasps. “Like you did last night.”
Your hands find the top of his joggers. Sliding beneath the band, you wiggle them down until the base of his cock appears. You pull a bit more, and then it’s free, already hard with a tiny bead of cum blooming in the slit. Your tongue darts out, swiping it up.
Simon shivers, and his hold on your neck adjusts to grasp the back of your head. He doesn’t haul you against him, or force himself down your throat. He is waiting for you, and that action in and of itself is enough to get you to stay a bit longer.
The head of his cock slides over your tongue and you throat him deep. Simon’s eyelids flutter and his groan is sweet. You bottle it up for later with the intention of recreating that sound—to make him moan like that again.
Kyle "Gaz" Garrick
Sunday mornings are lazy mornings.
Some of the alcohol from last night still lingers in your pores, leaving a tightness behind your eyes and at your temples. But it’s not all that relevant.
Right now, you’re floating. There’s a man between your thighs. Well, his head anyway. And his tongue is doing all sorts of things to you.
Kyle’s tongue lazily flicks back and forth over your clit while he pumps two fingers in and out of your pussy. He is in no rush. No hurry. He’s taking his time, and you’re in blissful motion, hips rocking against his tongue, meeting his fingers with each thrust.
He groans softly against your pussy just before he sucks your clit into his mouth. Your fingers dig into his shoulders, and your back arches off the bed. Kyle’s name is on your lips. A repetition you cannot cease.
Even with your orgasm blossoming, you feel his smile against your skin. Kyle is smug that he’s done this to you.
What a way to start the day.
Kyle’s fingers slip from your body, and then he’s pushing up, reaching for the box of condoms on the bedside table. He snatches one up, tearing it open quickly.
“How do you want me?” you murmur, not trusting your voice. It’s still hoarse from sleep and the smokes you accepted last night.
Kyle rolls on the condom. His skin is glossy with sweat. The two of you have hardly slept. You thought this would be a quick fuck but it’s something else. Kyle takes his time, and that has drawn this one-night stand out into an all-night fucking marathon.
“You’re good as you are, love,” coos Kyle, settling between your legs again. You both groan aloud when he slides home.
It’s the next day. You should be out of this bed. You should be doing your usual walk-of-shame, and yet you’re still in Kyle’s bed, full of his cock, and completely strung out on orgasms.
“Promise I’ll let you rest after this,” he murmurs, testing with a roll of his hips.
You almost laugh. “You said that the last two times,” you moan as he hits somewhere deep.
“Did I?” he asks, absently.
Kyle is sweet, but he knows how to make you yearn. It’s agony. And it’s fucking beautiful. This isn’t how any of this is supposed to go and yet here you are, getting dicked down by a man who is clearly beyond simple hook-ups.
This man is boyfriend material, and even as your mind starts to drift back into a lustful haze, it’s scheming of ways to keep him.
Shifting slightly, Kyle adjusts your legs, setting a pace that makes each stroke divine. Perhaps it’s the fact that you’re exhausted that it feels so goddamn good. And maybe the two of you will actually rest after this.
The birds are chirping, and traffic is already moving. It’s the morning after, and yet the night seems to have been unending.
Kyle leans forward, and then your lips are connecting. Each kiss is deep. Tender. It’s unfair how nice this is. It shouldn’t be like this, and yet it is, and that makes it all the more painful when you do finally leave. This is not your home. It is his.
This is just an agreement made in a smoky pub. Nothing more.
“Kyle,” you moan, drawing his name out as your orgasm crests.
He smiles against your mouth, his pace stuttering out as the rest of him starts to tense.
“Almost there, love. Promise.” That word, promise, is strained. Kyle’s eyelids flutter, and then he too finds his end.
In the muted dark, the two of you exchange breaths. A car honks outside but it’s a muted thing. You’re hardly paying attention.
“Can we rest now?” you ask. It’s almost a laugh, but it’s also cautious. Maybe rest just means rest for him, and you’re about to be kicked to the curb.
“Yeah,” he smiles, rolling onto his back. Kyle reaches down to remove the condom before pushing himself out of bed and into the bathroom. The light flicks on. Water runs. And then Kyle returns with a damp cloth.
“Open those legs for me.”
You do so obediently, and Kyle patiently cleans you up before returning the cloth to the bathroom.
When he returns, the words tumble out of you unexpectantly. “I just need a couple hours and then I’ll go.”
Kyle frowns as he slides back into the bed. “You don’t need to rush out of here.”
You don’t need to rush out of here.
“I don’t want to bother—” Kyle shakes his head and you cease speaking.
“Come here,” he murmurs, offering himself. You slide up next to him, and Kyle wraps his arms around your body, dragging you into his chest.
Your lips begin to form words but Kyle makes a grunt and you promptly close your mouth. Kyle has you locked in his arms, and it’s comfortable. Normal. This is all too personal, and yet Kyle doesn’t seem to mind.
Maybe you could make this into something else.
Maybe this is him offering more.
Whatever it is, the concept fractures, slipping away as the warmth and comfort of him lulls you to sleep.
taglist:
@km-ffluv @glitterypirateduck @tiredmetalenthusiast @miaraei @cherryofdeath
@sapphichotmess @saoirse06 @haven-1307 @ferns-fics @spicyspicyliving
@unhinged-reader-36 @miss-mistinguett @ravenpoe67 @tulipsun-flower
@sageyxbabey @cod-z @keiva1000 @littlemisscriesherselftosleep @umno-yeah
@mudisgranapat @ninman82 @blackhawkfanatic @talooolaaloolla @sadlonelybagel
@lulurubberduckie @leed-bbg @daemondoll @iloveslasher @yawning-grave81
@sammysinger04 @jackrabbitem @statixx-x @xxkay15xx @lxblm
@voids-universe @itsberrydreemurstuff @azkza @ash-tarte @certainlygay
@hantheconqueror @dakotakazansky @jaggersinclair @suhmie @kidd3ath
@lovely-ateez @thewulf @coffeecaketornado @glassgulls @beebeechaos
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boowritess · 2 days
Text
part 1 hehe
notsobaddasssoldier!reader that is so incredibly under prepared for everything. and the 141 really do forget that you're actually still very green - very new to this life.
especially with things like interrogation.
for once, price is putting you on the sideline BUT you have to interogate the person they have captive for valuable information.
they'll give you whatever things you need in order to pry out any sort of information from the captive. they don't even second guess you asking for a guitar. they get one then they continue on with the mission while you interrogate the person.
their expectation may have been very high. they were betting on all the little fun bloody pain you could potentially do to the captive. seriously,
"knife, they're a knife person" *ghost*
"definitely not. fire. they're definitely using a blowtorch on em as we speak." *soap*
"sod of the both of ya - waterboarding. for sure." *gaz*
"choking." *price shrugs*
obviously, they were excited to come back and see who was right...
it really humbled them to see they were all wrong.
"please make them stop. i'll tell you whatever you want"
*captive yelling that can be barely heard over reader.*
"AHHHHHHHHHH *strum strum* AHHHHHH AHHHHHHH *strum strum* AHHHHHH-"
*reader who is loudly strumming the guitar out of tune, screaming in the captives' face over and over again.*
the guys don't know if they should be impressed or concerned. they were gone for nearly 5 hours.
5 hours you had been screaming in the captives' face 'playing' the guitar.
later on you get a lesson from ghost about what interrogations are supposed to be like - it ends with you vomiting and price patting your back and gaz holding a bucket to your mouth.
"what did you think was gonna happen when ghost showed ye what to do?" *soap*
"i don't know... go boo?" *scarred reader*
yeah... you're not allowed to do interrogations anymore or be involved in interrogations- you are also most definitely not allowed to talk to captives or guard them because -
"why're you doing this?" *captive*
"honest to god, i ain't got much goin' for me and i had hella stu-"
*reader's mouth suddenly gets covered, gaz looking at you like an idiot*
"hm? what is your little task force plan, huh? go on and blow the place?" *captive*
"well actually no. they plan too-" *your mouth gets covered just in time and you're getting dragged out the room by a very frustrated price*
you very much get ANOTHER lesson about what NOT TO DO when in the same room as a captive - it's pointless though because you're still not ever allowed in the same room alone with a captive.
HAHAHA
i can't stop thinking of reader who is watching a captive be interrogated for information by getting choked and reader just piping up like
"i don't think they can breathe..."
*ghost, long exhale, continues choking captive*
"that's the point, kid" *price*
"oh..."
*they continue choking the captive, waiting for them to crack-*
"if they can't breathe how are they going to talk-?"
"out." *ghost snaps pointing at the door.*
maybe they do give you a second shot at attempting to interrogate the captive. the 'correct' way this time, though. giving you ALL the necessary tools...
and you are ready, you're pumped. you can do it. you're not going to vomit - you're going to do it right.
you grab the pliers and walk towards the captive who is obviously panicked, very much expecting you to do your worse. which you are.
you grab their mouth and force their mouth open, ready to pull their teeth out - sucking a deep breath in as the captive starts to cry and beg.
but then you start to cry and beg.
"please just tell me the information i don't wanna do this"
"you don't have too!" *captive, crying and begging too*
"i do! i'm sorry..."
"no." *captive*
"yes."
"no" *captive starts screaming, making you start screaming as you pull on their tooth both of you staring at eachother and screaming your heads off.*
"I'M SORRY!"
"STOP!" *captive*
"I CAN'T!" *pulls tooth with pliers* "EW EW EW EW-"
you don't even do it right. you're pulling at their tooth with pliers and you're not strong enough so you're awkwardly just tugging the captives head. but the both of you are too busy screaming and begging to notice...
but you actually manage to successfully get the information - you're still not allowed to do interrogations... only being the very last option.
it does mean that you have to go on missions... even if you're useless omg idea?
*gasp* someone claims reader is a traitor - oop?
more parts, perhaps?
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a/n: wrote this while trying to work through an anxiety/panic attack !! xx honestly tho these would be my genuine reaction. btw drink water and try sleep cause i can't xx
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dmitriene · 1 day
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being rearranged against the wall by john price, your ass bouncing up from where his hips drive up against your backside, fat cock nestled in the gooey heat of your pussy, gummy walls tight and pulsing around his thick girth.
you didn't know that a skimpy lingerie with a cow print would be enough to drive him up so bad, jaw painfully tight with stiffened growls as he huffs at the sight of you, supple tits all round and soft under the small top that hides nothing, almost spilling out.
john can see everything, the wet patch on your panties where your folds all sticky from your own slick, aroused, desperate for his warm and calloused touch on your doughy flesh, and he can't say no to his darling.
you made him feral, utterly insane in the way he tugs and paws at your tits, thin cloth long ago torn away so he could play with your pebble nipples, rough fingers pinch and squeeze at your swelling skin, breasts aching and tingling where he grasped too harshly.
his hips smacking roughly against your round ass, fat bouncing and jiggling with each movement, pussy drooling around his fat girth as he pummels against your tightening walls, thrusting into your spongy spot.
it get's you all teary eyed and jaw slack, slurred mewls slipping out into the thick air as john only plunges deeper, forcing his throbbing cock to bump against your womb, itching to breed you till it would leak out of you, and you wouldn't even notice.
too fucked out for your own good, able only to sob out and claw at his wrists when your nipples start to hurt, swollen buds burning from his touch, tummy clenching with approaching release, scorching you from inside out.
main masterlist. quidelines.
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ghouljams · 2 days
Text
More CoD men playing with you on their lap, Price's turn.
Cw: spanking, improvised gags, dom!Price
You've been on your phone through most of the movie; watching short videos with the volume just loud enough to be annoying, then looking up to ask stupid questions when things seem to be happening. You know it's bothering Price. His jaw looks like it's about to break it's clenched so tight. You look up from your loud phone game to ask if that's the bad guy and that seems to be the last straw.
Price grabs your arm and hauls you over his lap, the movie paused almost as quickly as you're settled on two broad thighs. Immediately you feel your breath come quick, your heartrate picking up as he pushes your sleep shirt up and yanks your underwear down. "Want attention so bad," he grumbles, though you hardly hear it over the crack of his hand against the fleshy globe of your ass. You yelp at the sting and he shoves the remote in your mouth. One strong arm grabs your outside arm and pulls you tight against him, holding you in place so his free hand can spank you a second and third time.
The burn of it is delicious, electricity jolting through your body and simmering out into a buzzing heat. He doesn't hold back, striking you without a care for the sting to his palm. He rubs his hand over the throbbing pain that's starting up on one cheek, then moves to the other. Three quick strikes, each followed by the smack crack of skin on skin, each followed by the sharp sting of pain. Your skin is buzzing, warmth slipping over you like a blanket. It hurts. You want more.
You wiggle on his lap and he hits you hard and fast between your legs. You jerk against his lap with a whine and he hits you again. There's no soothing of his fingers after those, no merciful rub against the sting. Instead he grabs the fat of your ass tight and shakes it, releases to smack it hard before squeezing it again.
"Little brat," he growls, "think I don't know what you're doing?"
You mumble-slur your words around the remote in your mouth, unintelligible at best. Only because you know it will annoy him more to hear you trying to make conversation. It makes him spank you again just to shut you up, just so you can sink into a soft moan as you drool around your makeshift gag. You throb between your legs, overeager, untouched, and unwilling to try and redirect his attention. Sometimes the denial is half the fun. Sometimes the best you can do is take the pain and enjoy.
His thick, callused, fingers spread wide to grab your ass after each spank, digging into the meat of your ass. There's a dull throbbing ache that's starting to join the rapid sting of his strikes. He' trying to bruise you, you think, work the skin until it hurts. He doesn't just want your skin hot with the lingering effects of his hand, he wants you bruised, so you remember the pain each time you sit down. Longer lived than a simple spanking. The thought sends another throb of pleasure through you. Your brain is fuzzy with it, your body in Price's capable hands, to be returned as damaged as you can handle.
Price hits you hard on each cheek, a rapid succession of strikes on either side that makes you sob out a moan. The tears that had been brimming just at the edge of your lashes finally flow free. Fat rivulets of water rolling down your cheeks as you sniffle at the next spank. The stinging pain digs into the new bruises, and you hiccup around your gag. Your ass feels like it's on fire. The skin burns from each of his strikes and the muscle aches. He rubs his hand over the last strike, and loosens his hold enough to grab the back of your head and pull your head back. You look at him through half lidded eye, and you tugs the remote from between your lips. You feel drool slip out of your open mouth, stringing your lips to the hard plastic. Price doesn't seem to notice or care as he presses play on the movie again.
His hand pets down your spine as he shoves the remote back into your waiting mouth. You recognize the warning in his tone as you go lax over his lap.
"If I have'ta start this damn thing over."
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deunmiu-dessie · 23 hours
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(unedited)
imagine being the babysitter for the price family, ur meek and quiet around john and mainly communicate with mrs. price. but ur absolute fun with the kids; they just adore u so much and ask about u all the time even when ur not scheduled to watch them :(
though u always thought john never cared for u in the first place— i mean, his wife said they needed a sitter while she went back to work and he provided the money. the two of u had never talked much before, small greetings and thank u’s but that was it.
but one day, out of the blue he comes home early when ur watching the kids, ‘nd he's touchy :(
his burly body caging you against the counter as u make something for the kids to eat. his hands at ur waist as he reaches to grab something from above u, brushing against u when u pass each other in the hall. ‘nd u swear u can hear him breathe in ur perfume when ya’ll are close, a rumble in his chest. but u didn't think much, mr. price was good man.
but then he becomes bolder, large hands groping at ur thighs, bulge pressed against the curve of ur ass, invading questions about ur sex life. ‘nd u should feel scared, disgusted, u should tell his wife– but he hasn't rlly done anything. i mean, he’s just teaching u how to kiss— his mouth dominating and tongue bullying ur own, saliva dripping down ur chin…. but it’s for later purposes, when ur in a relationship. just practice.
he hasn't rlly done anything worth telling. he’s just teaching u how to touch urself, how to work ur fingers on ur clit. just teaching u how to properly deepthroat, his balls flush against ur chin as he bottoms out down ur throat. just teaching u how to have sex the right way, the safe way— his thick cock, covered in a condom inching its way into ur sloppy, virgin cunt :(
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dante-mightdie · 17 hours
Note
Thinking abt that one post of yours where toxic!price takes reader on a date to meet his team but does it simply to make some only woman jealous (it works) and when price goes off to flirt, reader is left all alone and sad.
maybe simon or johnny sees this beautiful girl who’s been cast aside and they take her home to treat her right because she deserves to have her love returned. maybe asks her to leave marks to show price what he’s been missing… just a thought 😏
-🦭
I know this isn’t exactly what you asked but hear me out 🤭
simon, kyle and johnny who lurk around the edges of this situation like starving jackals, ready to pounce on the scraps left over by the pack leader?
wait until you’re at your absolute lowest before bombarding you with sweet words and touches whilst they whisk you off back to one of their flats. you’re just feeling so rejected that you’ll let them do anything :(
they’re much nicer than john though. still assholes, lets be clear… but nicer. they’ll spend good time working you open for them. warm tongues and thick fingers exploring your holes before they split you open on their cocks
they wont kick you out after neither. they’ll clean you up and snuggle you to sleep because its the least they can do for completely rearranging the structure of your organs. john doesn’t care about the least
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tojisun · 15 hours
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you ever think about the silence with price? how it’s comfortable and tender, and you never really noticed but he’s always watching you. his eyes crinkled in his quiet delight, his gaze so fond no one would even suspect that he’s been hardened by the military.
thinking about how quick he is to fall asleep the moment you two lapse in silence. how he feels so relaxed and safe with you that he can’t help but slumber, no matter where you two are—in the master’s bedroom you two share, or the living room, or in your office.
you don’t even notice until the soft snores roll in and you look up, startled because you two were just talking, before snagging a blanket to drape over him—on the days when it’s cold—or cranking up the fan—on the days when the summer’s heat peaks. and john just melts in his comfort, his body loose and relaxed.
he looks older like this, his exhaustion vivid, but he is at home and he is safe and he is so, so beautiful.
john scrunches his nose when you murmur this to him, the two of you snuggled close, bare skin on bare skin. you feel the remnants of your euphoria wash over you in quiet drawls, your head pillowed by his arm, his other one thrown over your waist. his fingers trail soft nothings along your back, his touch so faint it’s ticklish.
it’s warm pressed up to each other like this, bodies tangled with the sheets, but you two don’t have it in you to move.
“what?” you say, voice quiet. “you are so beautiful, baby.”
he huffs, his breath tickling the bridge of your nose. “y’r the only one who thinks so, peanut.”
you hum, shuffling impossibly closer. john presses his palm flatly on the small of your back, almost like he’s pushing you towards him too.
“s’not true but,” you pause, yawning. “i’m right, end of story.”
john rolls his eyes at you, you think. you don’t really know, not with how you two are so close to each other, your eyes are going cross-eyed if you so much try to stare at him.
but before you could grumble or even pinch his side for his snark, john rubs his nose over yours. his beard tickles like this, brushing against the sweaty skin of your maw, but you don’t pull away. you don’t tell him to stop.
instead, you rasp out giggles, little bites of breathy laughter, and it makes john snort, something so fond it has your heart fluttering.
the conversation trickles then, your voices slurring in your warm exhaustion, until you finally slip into your sleep, knowing that tomorrow would be just as good. just as quiet. just as lovely.
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Text
You know what I could see John Price do?
I could see him mow the lawn when you’re sad, just because he knows you love the smell.
I could see him taking the long way home from work, just to pick up your favourite takeout as a surprise.
I could see him walk up to you and shove his hoodie over your head that he had put in the dryer just so it’d be warm for you (if it shrinks that’s fine, it’ll be yours permanently).
I could see him bring home flowers, saying they simply reminded him of you.
And I could see him pull you down to sit and watch your favourite show, even if it’s one he absolutely despises.
Most of all, I could see him loving you even when you have it rough. His voice soft, his touch gentle, his hands warm. Paperwork be damned, appointment with friends be damned, food that’s about to expire in the fridge be damned.
He will go out of his way to show you comfort. Be it through ordering food, going out to buy ingredients needed to cook something, anything.
He will be there for you in both the foreground and the background.
He’s seen enough terror, despair and numbness in life to see his love go through that as well.
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gothghostiie · 1 day
Note
Hello! Just thinking about the guys dog piling on you after not seeing you for a while. That's it.
stop I love that
imagining just lounging in your bed, not thinking anything when the 4 of them suddenly storm in, straight back from a mission, and just all tactially dog pile on you. have fun trying to move or breathe
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a66-1 · 2 days
Text
Oh, to be loved by an artist.
Sketches and drafts and paintings and crafts, all of you. To have hands who dedicate their time to making you into the thing they love. Their art.
To be seen as a sculpture that's purpose is to be drawn, to be perceived, to be.. This lovely thing. To be more than the body your in, the.. The disgusting body your in.
It's your only wish, right?
To have him dedicate his time to loving you like the water that colors a page,
To have him want nothing more than you and another you on his wall,
To have him want to take clay and build you up,
To have him take scraps and make you into a new being, one who's better than what they were made of.
You've tired your being on doing it yourself.
You've tried drawing your hands, they come out too big and chunky.
You've tried painting your clothes, yet they come out worn and ripped.
You've tried scrapbooking your hair, only for it to come out matted and gross
You've tried sculpting your body, only for you to smash it because—
What in the world?
Maybe you just need a different set of eyes. Everytime you draw or paint or scrapbook or sculpt someone else they're.. They're beautiful.
You tell yourself you just need a better pair of eyes. His eyes.
Oh, to be an artist.
kinda a vent but it's meant to be read for any of my fine men (Simon, John, Johnny, Kyle)
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chaosandmarigolds · 3 days
Text
WHAT DO YOU MEAN READER CANT BE A LIL UNHINGED- sorry sorry, I’m not meaning to yell but like (if ur my boss no you’re not, this is not violating my oath)
mechanic!reader, who purposefully causes issues to make their person of interest come to them more
medic!reader who is quite literally that one song that’s like ‘I’ll let the world burn’ when it comes to him bc they don’t care about anything else
and I mean that seriously, bullets whizzing by, 99 out of the hundred people hurt, yourself included-
“Stop moving-“
“you need to help-“
“I do not give a shit, stop moving.”
or!!! Making the stitches a bit loose on purpose to cause them to come back.
(I’m possessed by something, I swear- anyway, that’s what was on my mind)
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dumbbitchgalore · 2 days
Text
Hairy Old Man!Price 🩷
NSFW gif under the cut
MDNI
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You are his personal fleshlight and there’s nothing you can do to stop him.
Like the cum slut you are, you obediently sit on your knees as the wooden floor become the culprit in bruising them.
You need to be a good little slag for him until his Viagra wears off. He’s got too much adrenaline in him and he needs his toy to help him because that’s your only damn purpose in your life. At this point you should’ve got that through your thick skull.
What a dumb fucking whore you are as you look up at John. Tears running down your face, your mascara ruined and lipstick smudged. At least this was a good way to test if it was transfer proof or not. The stains on his cock and abdomen say otherwise.
Bracing yourself, you place your hands on John’s burly thighs as you pull away from his cock gasping for air. John doesn’t hold it against you, after all he’s much rather keep his birdie alive and lets you have your gun for a while.
You lick your drool of his cock as you decide to kiss up his abdomen up to his shoulder. You lift his arm up to find beautifully sweaty armpits. Glistening you sweat and covered in a layer of hair. Slightly overgrown but you liked it that way.
You lean in taking a quick sniff of his musky scent as your mouth waters slightly. You nuzzle your nose against his hairy armpit, this time taking a deeper inhale of his scent. You moan as you involuntarily hump the air, earning a guff chuckle from John.
Sticking your tongue out you lick his armpit, gargling the sweet pearls of the musky liquid on the tip of your tongue, lapping at it over and over again.
The smell makes you dizzy with lust, unbearably horny as you continue to sniff his underarm till your heat content.
John wraps his brawny arm around your head, locking it in the place as John growls lowly as from the sensations of your tongue.
“Just like that, birdie. Lick me clean.”
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yuyuwritesss · 2 days
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Someone older
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Pairing: John Price x younger!reader
Summary: you get mad at Price for being too nice to you.
A/N: Slight angst, 10 things I hate about you vibes and John acts mean for like 2 seconds (but is overall a sweetheart), 2.290 words.
"—"—"—"—"—"—"—"—"—"—"—"—"—"—"—"—"—"—"—"
The giant hand, patting then ruffling your hair, moving to cup your cheek before quickly being withdrawn, always left you in a sea of helpless longing and guilty consciousness. You know it came from a place of father-like pride and approval. But this recurring gesture, not at all dissimilar to his pats on the boys' backs, without a doubt altered to fit your, in his eyes, gentler disposition, doesn't fail to send your idle mind rampant.
Coupled with his softening voice when addressing you as if you were made of glass any loud sound could shatter, a gentle smile painting his face whenever you join the conversation while the whole team is out after a mission. Intense eyes not leaving yours whenever they meet, pushing you to look away lest you get lost in them.
Your naive, eager brain couldn't help but disfigure and reshape the intention behind his attention to its liking, desperately trying to get you to make a move. To feed it after a long fast, cut at intervals during which its only sustenance came from the crumbs dropped by your captain.
This lack of control, mindless yearning, pissed you off to no end. You were supposed to be a soldier for God's sake. But the build-up of moments where you felt your heart almost beat out of your chest at the slightest attention from Captain Price put your mental state on wobbly ground, and you weren't sure how much time you had before it seeped into your work.
This prompted a fit of rage and self-loathing out of you that translated into your being curt and bitter to those around you as a last resort act of self-defiance, to forcibly gain the upper hand on your feelings.
Which didn't go unnoticed by your dear captain, calling you into his office one Friday morning. As you entered you were met with the very smile that brought this on you. The soft crinkles around his deep blue eyes. The dimples hidden behind the thick forest of facial hair. The exposed, strong forearms extending to big hands, one of them wrapped around a fountain pen while the other rested by the top of whatever papers he was signing.
"Morning love. Did you sleep well?"
Humming, you look at the side of the room to avoid looking at him, the way the soft rays of light paint the wall and dark red couch he occasionally sleeps on when he's tired. You know that because you've walked in on him napping on it too many times to count although he always insists he's just resting his eyes.
You're forced to look at him again when you hear the scratch of his chair on the floor, his big body stands to stretch, offering you a front row view of his stomach as his shirt rises and his eyes softly close. Then, having stretched to his heart's content, he starts moving towards you until he's standing less than a foot away, a soft smile on his face and his deep blues looking down to search your expression. The smile barely showing through his mutton chops soured your mood even more than it already was and made you absent-mindedly scowl at it, too transfixed by it to notice his hand slowly rising up, his thumb softly touching your cheek.
Your eyes automatically shut at the feeling of the rough finger pad on your skin, brushing it and igniting a warmth in your chest that you've grown familiar with in your captain's presence.
"What's going on with you, dove?"
Your eyes opened to a slightly worried, inquisitive look on his face.
"What do you mean?" you mumbled, stepping back to no longer suffer at his touch and gain back your wits about you.
He looks at you, almost in disapproval, eyebrows drawn together. "I mean the way you've been acting lately," his tone gets more assertive and you try not to let it show how nervous it's making you. Being at the receiving end of his displeasure is a foreign experience for you, used to being in his good graces without much effort, his soft tone and even softer touches being common occurrences.
"And how have I been acting?" you say, holding your ground, your anger and frustration acting as crutches, holding you up and crushing down any sign of weakness or nervousness.
He gets closer from where he was first stood, enough that you can feel his breath on your face, looking at you as if you were some rebellious teenager he was forced to deal with.
"So that's how you wanna go about this, hm? Alright, you're dismissed, soldier." He says, staring into your soul before turning and walking back to his desk.
You thought him talking to you like this would make you feel better, might create some much-needed distance between the two of you where you can finally get your feelings back in order, but you were so incredibly mistaken. You hated how he made you feel when he was nice and soft to you, but this felt infinitely worse. His sharp tone, his back to you shutting you out of his world. The one you wanted so badly to be a prominent part of but couldn't even allow yourself to dream of coming close to. You were a big girl, but you weren't immune to getting your feelings hurt, no matter how hard you wished for the opposite to be true.
He was once again settled into his chair, fountain pen between his fingers, haven't looked at you again but sensed your lack of movement and looking up he said, "I said you're dismissed, sold-" only to lay his eyes on you, the most upset he has ever seen you, still by his door. He didn't think you would react that way to what he thought would be a harmless ploy to get you to come around later, but seeing you like that tugged at his heartstrings. "Love-" that seemed to jolt you out of whatever trance you were in and sending you forward toward his desk, unshed tears clouding your vision.
"I hate it when you call me that," you barked out.
He was shocked, he didn't understand what prompted this fit but opted to calm you down as best as he could.
"I didn't know, let's talk ab-" "I hate it when you touch me when you pat my head and look at me like I'm the only girl in the entire world."
You felt terrible, especially with the way he was looking at you with heartbreak in his eyes, but at the same time, you were glad he was finally feeling what you felt every single day but had to lock up, so you kept going.
"I hate when you say my name and when you stand so close to me and when you treat me like I'm something special," you say, setting your hands on the desk and coming closer.
"But above all, I hate how none of this is true and that the only thing I truly hate is how you make me feel, so helplessly in love with a man who couldn't possibly love me back, not in a million years," you say softly, your tears finally falling and collapsing on astutely ordered files, in contradiction with your feelings at the moment.
You wipe at them harshly with both hands as if making them disappear equates to making this whole situation go away. You don't even hear him stand up and make his way to you until two hands grip your wrists, inhibiting them from any more abuse on your eyes and cheeks, and pull you into his encompassing chest. "Shhh darl', I've got you," your hard breathing into his neck allows you to get more than enough whiffs of his soothing scent, causing your hiccups to become few and far in-between and your hyperventilating to slow down.
As you calm down, you expect him to step back, letting you go now that he's done, decent man that he is, what he had to do. But you're surprised to feel him sit down on the chair, simultaneously pulling you into his lap.
Your face feels exposed and your hands self-consciously find your face, hiding it from him only to have your two wrists bound by a single one of his hands—the other one circling your back and waist—and pulled back to reveal you to him.
You finally build up enough courage to look him in the eye to find his blue eyes looking at you with such gentleness and pure compassion it nearly melts your heart.
"What makes you think I don't love you back?" Your eyes widen and your mouth can't seem to form a coherent sentence which ultimately becomes useless as lips come crashing down into yours, they kiss and kiss until you can no longer breathe, only pulling away when you nearly go limp in his arms. As you recompose yourself, you feel as though reality split and launched you into an alternate universe out of pity.
The only thing that could come out of your mouth is a wobbly "Why?", as his smile begins to widen. "Why do you think?" A nod to your earlier behavior, one you would've found humorous under different circumstances but the ones you were presently under regressed your brain to a version incapable of understanding irony.
"I need to understand," you said, an earnest albeit confused expression painting your face.
"What's there not to love about you, dove?" He said softly brushing your cheek with the back of his hand, "I fell for you the moment I laid eyes on you and every moment spent with you seemed to justify that, I tried to be discreet but you seemed to catch on, smart girl that you are."
You were on the verge of passing out from how overjoyed and delirious you felt. "Why didn't you say anything?" you said, reaching out to cup his jaw and moving to tangle your fingers in his hair.
"I didn't want to steal your youth away from you, thought you deserved someone your own age."
You immediately kiss him with all the pent-up anger this misunderstanding had culminated in you and pull back to see his lips a titillating shade of red. "I couldn't give less of a shit about that, you're all I need." You felt his hand squeeze your waist as you rested your forehead against his.
"How about dinner tonight, love?"
A hundred sunbeams couldn't match your smile at hearing those words, nodding as you curled further into his warm chest, happy with the knowledge that you were now allowed to touch him as much as you liked.
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