#price x f!reader

[squishycheekanon]

Another sweet sweet price thot💋

Okay but let’s talk about Mountain man Price. He retired a few years ago and decided he much prefers the solitude of the beautiful mountains, with the tips of them all covered in snow. He likes the quiet, knowing he won’t run into anyone here. No one from the little town at the bottom of the mountains would be brave enough to hike the mountain trail.

He remembers the day he built his nice log cabin with the help of his trusty lieutenant of course. Simon helped his Captain one last time, before parting ways. Price wanted to be alone, after everything he’d experienced in the military, he wanted it to be just himself and the weather to keep him company.

He’d have the survival skills no doubt about it, but the more time he spent up there the more his social skills began to fade away. He’d have to come down every six months or so to restock his food, he make his trip down the hike trail to the little town at the bottom of the mountains and through the woods.

But the shop workers weren’t his biggest fans. He’d practically clear them out of their stock, the poor little local shop. They didn’t like his attitude either, found him strange and unapproachable. Though that’s exactly what John was going for. The less people that spoke to him, the better.

Until he met you of course.

It was only your second week at your new job, you’d just moved to the little town around a month ago and this was the only job available after some woman called Darlene went of maternity leave.

My gosh the way you’d be so nice to him having no idea the stigma that surrounded him and how suprised he’d be at the kindness you showed him. He’d actually look forward to coming down to the town.

He’d come more often as well, saying he’d ran out of supplies and yet he’d only buy a bag of fruit or some meat. Then he’d start to tidy up his appearance too, trim his over grown beard and moustache back to its former glory. The blush that would spread across your cheeks the first time you see him like that.

Hair trimmed too, you’d be able to see his perfect lips and crooked smile. It provoked a feeling in you that you’d long forgotten. Slowly but surely he’d start trying to flirt. Trying. Though you found it endearing how bad he was at it. Finally though he’d succeeded asking you out on a date and fuck the moment he’d turn up in his dark blue jeans, black shirt and dark brown leather jacket and boots. You swooned.

He had the charm turned on, especially after his phone call with his ex team. They could all hear how nervous their former captain was for this date. It made them very intrigued to meet you one day.

John didn’t miss a beat, almost as if he’d laid this date out like a mission. Going step by step to win your heart. He made you laugh so hard your stomach hurt, made you smile until your cheeks ached. Ordered the food and drinks impressively, no umming or stuttering.

He gave you butterflies when he reached over the table to grab your hand in his larger one. The skin was rough and calloused, but it felt amazing against your hand. He loved how soft your skin felt against his. He traced around the palm of your hand with his thick index finger, those gorgeous ocean eyes gazing into your soul.

After dinner, John took you to a local bar that you were pleasantly surprised with. A few drinks later you tipsily confessed how handsome you thought he was. The longer the evening went on, the more longing looks and teasing touches were shared.

The evening ended with the two of you slow dancing until last call. The way your bodies pressed together, the intimacy and warmth. The way he’d always make eye contact, almost as if he was trying to read you. The way he held you so tender yet tight, his large hands on your body. It all just felt so right.

John walked you home, looking so sad when it was time to part ways. “Please, let’s do this again sweetheart.” When your manager Billy had called you that, it made you feel sick. Had the hairs on the back of your neck standing up, disgust shivering down your body. But when John said it, damn. Your body shivered in delight, the deep mumble entangled with that delicious accent of his made you gulp back a lump in your throat. You swear your underwear was a little wet too.

You nodded leaning forward to kiss his cheek goodnight, John was quick to take your cheeks into his hands and press his wanting lips against yours. He was hungry and almost vicious when he kissed you, it made you wonder what kind of lover he was like as he pressed you against your front door and kissed you like he’d never get the chance again.

[celestialwhoree]

🎀🩷

John Price & his wifey💕

Price considers himself a somewhat traditional man, and he's proud of it! Not in the sense that he believes that women belong in the kitchen and that men should call the shots, but in the belief that women should be respected - looked after.

His now wife is perfectly happy to indulge him in that way. She's far from docile or subservient like most men expect of housewives, oh no, she's an absoulute firecracker when it comes down to it, which only makes John love her more.

She's happy to play house, 'hold down the fort' as John calls it, which makes her feel important. He works so fucking hard, and she just wants him to have a beautiful home and lots of yummy food to come back to.

She has a part time job or works from home, because she flat out refuses to be financially dependent on anyone. Upon marrying John, though, she was able to quit her 9-5 that made her miserable and persue her passions.

John gets her a dog to keep her company until they can think about starting a family proper. He's most definitely antsy to have kids with her though. He's already training up his subordinates to a standard which will allow him to take a more hands off approach and spend more time at home.

The 141 know he's married, but John only really talks about her when asked. He wants to protect her, but also wants to seperate the little life he's building for himself from the blood and gore of the life he's getting ready to leave behind.

[bleuu-moon]

john price who gets you a mother’s day card, hands it over all sheepishly with a smirk on his face. and obviously you’re all confused, even more so when you open it to see what’s inside the envelope.

“john? i’m not a mother?”

“no, but you’re about t’ be.”

before bending you over the kitchen table and infact, making you a mother.

[syoddeye]

siphon, part four

john price x f!reader part one | two | three | four ~2.3k words cw: kidnapping, implied stalking, dubcon/noncon oral, blood, violence, gore, death

An opportunity arises more than a month into your 'stay'.

"I'm takin' off for a few hours," John announces.

The dishes in the sink rattle beneath the dropped scrub brush. You tuck your chin to your shoulder and glance back. "Oh?"

He stands in the mouth of the hall in a jacket, thumbing through a keyring. "Got an errand."

The question forms instantly, but you hold it back for fear of appearing too eager. Returning to the dishes, you finish rinsing a plate and set it on the drying rack. Behind you, you listen to him putter between the den and the kitchen.

"I assume I'm staying here?"

John hasn't left you alone since you woke up in the backseat of his truck, head splitting. Since then, you've studied the cabin, inside and out. Wherever you are, the location is remote, thickly wooded, and mountainous. A minimum of an hour outside of the city. It's clear he took great pains to ensure you remain indoors. Although he's yet to employ the many security measures beyond the locks on doors and windows, you've observed an alarm panel. You've seen the gun. Then there is his favorite method of control - his sheer physicality. John's built, solid, and efficient. From the books on history, war, politics, and self-sufficiency, your working theory is he's former military. There is no need for a leash when he can outrun you.

He doesn't answer.

You turn to face him, untying the ridiculously frilly apron you might've thought was cute if a boyfriend had given it to you—not your kidnapper. Captivity has a way of killing romance.

His eyes fixate on your hands loosening the garment, and you watch as he selects two keys from the ring by feeling alone. The keys are simple brass, two different sizes. He plays with them idly, evidently lost in some sick domestic fantasy. You stare at them a moment longer – oh. You know where the keys go.

With his preternatural instincts, John returns to earth, raking his eyes from your form as you hang the apron. You cannot stem the burgeoning panic mounting in your chest.

"Sweetheart–"

"No." 

As if you have a say.

John considers you, his gaze light and careful when he glances at the kitchen around you, but it settles heavily upon your person. He cracks his neck and pushes the key ring back into his pocket.

"Care to repeat yourself?" He echoes.

You inch to the right. Steps away, a pair of kitchen shears sits. Tonguing your lip, you reach for a reason—any reason—to let him hear reason. "I'll be good. Cuff me to the couch, lock me in the bathroom…Please. Don't put me back in there."

He tracks your movement. He tracks everything. "Not how it works, 'm afraid. C'mere."

This isn't how it is supposed to go. Maybe fucking John didn't grant you the access you thought it would, but it is supposed to make him believe you housebroken. Amicable to whatever plans he has for you, which, you know, he has. He's ruining your plans. Ruining everything.

"Please, I'll-"

"This is not a negotiation. Now come here." He beckons.

A petulant anger flares in your belly. Asking John into your body every night is supposed to mean something. If he puts you back in the kennel, it's all been for naught. He acts as if it's beyond his control, that he didn't contrive the entirety of this nightmare. It shatters something inside of you.

With the force you pull the shears out, the utensil holder cracks on the counter. John curses, closing the distance in three giant steps, and you fight a losing battle. He wrenches them out of your hand, tosses them, and drags you by the hair. You kick and slap with your free hand, but with a cruel rip of his hand, you feel hair come away.

He hauls you down the short corridor. Your breaths come in quick gasps as panic claws its way up your throat. You bark and fight like a stray dog on the business end of a catch-all. It's fruitless.

"Fuck you!"

"Later."

John fishes the keys out, unlocks the room, throws you into it, and slams the door behind him. You bolt into the corner. He ignores you while he opens the cage.

"Now," He points a finger at the entrance. 

It isn't fair.

"I'm going to kill you." You blurt out.

John looks unimpressed, sighing. He advances slowly. There is no gentleness in his posture.

"Fuck you." You repeat in a hiss, tensing for the fight you know you'll lose.

His frustration laces with undisguised lust. "Say 'fuck you' again. It sounds like an invitation."

It's inexorable – he violently collects you as if for a dance in the kitchen. You glare through the bars, and he closes the padlock. You both breathe heavier. His hand lingers on the door, and you see the faint imprint of your teeth on the webbing.

"Let's see how much fight you've got left when I come back, hm?"

You lunge for his hand, eager for another bite.

He draws back in time, and his laughter cracks like a whip. "I love you, sweetheart. Nothing you do will change that." He brushes himself off and admires your sulking. "And I've got all the time in the world to change your mind. You'll love me.”

The cabin falls into silence with his departure. You hold yourself tight and take deep breaths. You need to focus. Stupid, stupid, stupid. You could've rolled over and let him lock you up for a couple of hours. But no, you flipped the chessboard like a fucking idiot.

A dripping noise coaxes your eyes to the water bottle. There's a crack in the plastic between the nozzle and the body. Probably broke when he threw you in here. You squeeze your eyes shut tight, reaching for the comfort of sleep. The REM cycle evades you most nights, what with the monster snoring in your ear over your shoulder.

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

Water erodes even the most solid foundations, and you haven't had the luxury of stability in weeks. You grab the dispenser with both hands and pry it from its fastenings. It hurts your hands and takes more energy than you'd like, but it comes loose, and the plastic zip ties snap. Cursing the damned thing out, you hurl it awkwardly through the cage. It doesn't travel far. Doesn't feel as triumphant as you'd've hoped. A stream of water pools from its belly as it bleeds out on its side.

A despairing voice wishes it were you.

~~

Your mouth is dry when he fetches you.

"I'm sorry."

John's grip is ironclad. His face pinches in mild confusion as he helps you from the kennel before a smug smile replaces it.

"What for?"

"Being difficult," You murmur, stretching your legs. "Breaking the water bottle"

"You're a fuckin' brat," He corrects, pointing to the plastic and metal and slurs into your temple. He reeks of whiskey. "Pick it up. Then do the dishes."

You follow him out into the kitchen and suppress a groan. Your stomach grumbles, smelling the late dinner he cooked for himself when he returned and before he let you out. Beside the sink, your destination sits a tin of tuna singled out from the others. You open and eat the bland fish before he changes his mind. You fill the sink with warm water and soap and start in on the chore. 

John sits in the living room, well within view, smoking a cigar. The stink carries in your direction, cutting through the sterile scent of the dish soap.

For a few minutes, the silence sits like a third person in the room, occasionally interrupted by the clinking of a dish and the dipping of the brush in the water.

"I'm in a better mood," He starts out of nowhere.

You strain to listen, gauging whether it's a conversation or a soliloquy, and then dunk the cracked bottle, massaging the pliable material and working it under the suds.

"I grabbed a pint and told some folks about my woman troubles," he snorts, laughing at his own joke. I got some good advice."

The image of John holding court at some smoky bar comes uninvited. What lies did he tell his fellow patrons? That his 'girlfriend' threw a fit and stepped out of line?

Beneath the water, the plastic cracks within your tight grip. Your arm jerks, sloshing a smattering of bubbles onto the counter. You swiftly clean up after yourself and move on to drying.

"Leave 'em in the rack." John orders, rising from the armchair in the dark of the living room, leaving his cigar to burn out on the ashtray.

You fumble in surprise at his steps. Should be used to it by now. You hurry with the dish towel. "John, there's only–"

"Now."

His tone brooks no argument, not that you were in a position to dare. Swallowing thick, you abandon the chore half-complete and slink into his arms. John bullies you down the hall, grabbing handfuls of your ass. "Told me to be nice to you, eat your cunt a bit." He sighs into your hair, nudging the bedroom door open with a foot.

You don't fight him or gravity and fall back on the mattress.

John looms, eyeing you like a second dinner. Leaves the light on to see every gruesome detail. He makes short work of your jeans and rubs your calves appreciatively before discarding your underwear.

"So I'm giving you a freebie, just this once. I upset you," he explains and kisses your thighs. “You thought you were ready, but have you ever heard of the three-three-three rule, darling?"

"N-No," You stammer when he pinches for an answer.

"Three days, three weeks, three months. The three most important dates when bringing a dog into a home. Though, by my estimates, it's been working just as well for you."

John chuckles before delving into your heart. The lurch in your belly barely beats out nausea.

Three months. You'd rather die. 

The sharp jab in your chest demands freedom.

You let him lose himself. It's easy. He's eaten you out for hours before. You carefully disguise your movements as enthusiasm. You shove your shirt up and over your bra, fondling yourself, discreetly withdrawing the nozzle you broke off of the water bottle in the sink.

Dread and anticipation mix, making you tremble and quake. John, of course, thinks it's all him. It is, in a way. You prop yourself up on your elbows, meeting his eyes briefly when he opens them to take in the parting of your lips.

"John, please," You beg, threading one hand through his short hair.

His eyes shut in focus, humming gleefully, and he doesn't see you coming on either front.

Swinging with everything left, you stab the sharp, concave end of the nozzle into his neck. It sinks in like his windpipe wants it. You both jerk, you with relief and him with a pained, wet scream. It's messy. Blood blooms around his fingers where he clutches the metal. You drag your jellied legs across the bed as he stands, stumbling forward to grab you with a desperate and angry hand.

At his peak, you cannot outrun him. Bleeding profusely from the neck? Tips the scales. You book it to the door and the hall, and he comes crashing after you. Adrenaline and pure fucking fear hurl you down to the kitchen. You skid to a halt on the linoleum and lunge for the drawers from which you've seen him draw knives.

John's steps are haphazard and clumsy, but the full weight of his body is behind each one. He thunders down the hall, slurring, trying to push out words. It all comes out in bellows. A dying animal. Seeing you grab a cook's knife, he stumbles, pausing at the threshold of the corridor. Locking eyes, he reaches for the metal tube stuck in his throat instead. He gurgles something that roughly sounds like you bitch.

"I wouldn't do that." You half-heartedly warn, brandishing the knife.

He wrenches it out anyway, hand slapping to the hole immediately after, but there's too much blood. It's too slick. Red sprays. More than you thought.

John makes it one step before he slowly slumps to the ground, and you stalk closer, giving a wide berth with the blade in hand. He sags back to the wall, feebly pressing thick fingers against the gaping wound in his neck. It's useless. You know it. He knows it.

You crouch, naked from the waist down. Even now, he ogles, the shitstain.

"Do you need help, John?"

His eyes narrow, struggling to focus. The blue looks flatter. Vacant.

A genuine smile splits your face.

"Why don't you just ask?"

~~

The truck dies just off the forestry road. Of course. At least hell is in the rearview.

The sun is barely above the horizon, and John's phone still can't get a signal. Cursing him out, you slip the rucksack full of supplies you found while raiding the cabin. You could've grabbed more but couldn't stay there any longer. You pussyfooted over the gun, ultimately deciding it wasn't worth the energy to find the right key or pry the door open. Not for a weapon you've never used before. Finding your shoes was the best discovery apart from the truck keys and his phone. You'll need them for the walk.

It's almost an hour before you hear a car. You hook a thumb, walking forward, staring intently at the bend in the road ahead. Seconds later, an old, two-seater pick-up appears, and though it takes a moment for it to stop, they do.

You clamber towards the driver’s side window as it rolls down.

“Need a ride?”

“Yes, please. My truck died. Can I get a ride to town?”

“‘Course. What’s your name?”

Giddy and relieved, you give your name as you toss the bag into the open bed. 

“What’s yours?” You ask, smoothing a hand over your forehead.

Your unwitting rescuer smiles. Jesus, he’s handsome. 

“Kyle.”

[zombieplaygrounds]

cw: afab! fem! reader x john price, sex, probably unprotected, manhandling, oral sex, masturbation, sex toys, its a drabble not proof read

"Y'very prett', luv."

"Mm." Your eyes, half-lidded by the dim lighting of the room. A large, calloused hand caressing the soft curve of your ass, touch gentle and sweet. You felt good, too good for a bastard like Price, master manipulator and man whore to women. He loved the way you sat on his cock, riding him, back arching as you hid your moans into your own shoulder.

'Course, he could help ya, rub the swollen nub of your clit, puffy bundle of nerves like that throbbed for attention. But you felt too fucking good for him to care about your orgasm. Your hips rolling in a fixed rhythm, pussy squeezing 'im real good. You oozed arousal, left a creamy ring of pleasure dripping down his cock; if he didn't know better he'd bust a baby into you.

So damn tempted to just run your future, poor thing. All you prolly wanted was some fun with your neighbor, little one night stand. He was such a creep - you were sure he couldn't keep his eyes off of you since you moved in. Leaving his windows wide opened, gave you a lovely view of his life, couldn't help but welcome him to the same luxury; the one of you fingering yourself near your window.

Such a tease, made Price glad you finally caved and came by for a good fuckin'. Didn't know if he could take much more of your painfully slow rubs against your clit, loved making him brood and grunt over the sex toy that got to treat you rather than himself. By the end of your "sessions" he was left drooling, fisting his cock and pretending it was your pretty hands pawing at him. 'magined you had a gentle touch, mischievous too, softly nipping just to earn a thrustful into your throat.

However, reality was so much harder on him. You were such a good fuckin' girl. Let him grab you by the throat or hair without a whimper, maybe a mewl or whine just so your womb could be kissed by the head of his cock again. All the nights he imagined fucking you until you couldn't walk were humbled when you made him cum with just some kitten licks to the cum beading slit of his cock. Felt his whole body shake and shiver a nice warm load into your mouth.

Fucking succubus you were, pushing him into the bed while he was already so vulnerable and pliant. Crying as you bounced on his dick like an energetic pup. Let him take a few slaps and grabs at your ass and breasts. Pinching and tugging your nippes as a way to "get back at you."

Sure, Price, you're the boss. S'long as you gift another splatter of your warm seed.

[narcoticv3nus]

Blue Velvet

johnprice x f!reader

summary - you wake up hungover, naked, and not alone. You don’t remember what had happened, but he’s willing to show you.

theme - nsfw, fluff?

warnings/tags - reference to drunken sex, reference to alcohol and smoking, hinting to future sex, maybe ooc john? reader is female

The first thing you notice is the intoxicating scent of a lit cigarette, the smell gray and addictive. As you peeled your eyes open, you became more aware of the body you lay on. It was hard… and soft at the same time.

The room was bathed in a reddish-orange glow due to the light hitting your curtains, casting an almost erotic impression. It didn’t take you long to realize you were bare beneath your sheets, a slight sheen of sweat beaded onto your skin.

Suddenly, a firm yet gentle hand planted itself onto your head, petting itself through your hair. A finger curled itself around a strand falling over your cheek, twisting itself around over-and-over.

“Awake now, Princess?” A sudden voice rumbled from above you. His voice was husky and gravelly, like he hadn’t been awake too long before you. Refusing to answer, you continued to lay there estranged, trying to piece the memories together on how you may have ended up here… with a man.

The throbbing ache in your temple gave an indication of how you may have gotten yourself in this situation.

Sitting yourself upwards, you gasped at the feeling of something hard against your thigh. Hearing him chuckle to himself caused a heat to rise to your cheeks as you cursed yourself and whoever this was.

Swallowing your fear, you looked down into the face of your new lover. You bit your lip to suppress another gasp; he was so handsome — ruggedly so. And you watched him in awe as he turned his head to the side to blow out another puff of smoke. Though his eyes remained transfixed onto you. They were so… blue, you noticed.

You almost frowned at the knowing grin spreading across his cheeks. He knew you liked what you saw. Smug bastard. And yet, you couldn’t help but feel all the more drawn to him.

“Y’alright?” He asked, bringing his hand down to stroke absentmindedly at your waist, rubbing sweet circles into your skin. He was so comforting; you almost began telling yourself he wasn’t even real.

“Fine…” You cringed at the scratchy-softness of your voice. You darted your eyes downwards, only to be met with his broad chest, hairy and heaving with every breath.

You trembled as you listened to him hum thoughtfully, the smokiness of his tone had you nearly melting.

“Y’sure?” He asked again, stretching his arm to your nightstand, patting away his ash into a residing cup. He looked back at you sheepishly, as if to apologize for his rudeness. You were too lost in thought to mind though.

“I don’t remember what happened.” You blurted out a bit uncharacteristically. Sighing at the feeling of his large hand traveling down the scope of your back. You subconsciously arched into it. He hummed again, seemingly digesting your words but making no move to explain.

“Can’t say I remember much either, Sweetheart.” And oh, the dripping honeyed words had you utterly swooning. You almost let out another moan when he put away his cigarette just to touch you more. You took notice of just how big his hands were, rubbing across your body like he owned it. Like it was his.

“Oh.” You breathed out rather dumbly, watching as he rested his head back further into the pillows, closing his eyes with a blissful smile. And you stayed perched on top of him, gazing down at him in wonder.

“Can't complain much, I’spose.” You rolled your eyes, unimpressed with his lazy attempt to flirt. If you could even call it that. But you weren’t perturbed for long, resuming your somewhat creepy staring.

He blinked his eyes open again, matching your concentrated stare with his own. The silence seemed to tic by rather slowly as tension threaded its way between you.

“Are you waiting for me to leave?” He grinned, but his eyes flashed with concern. His hand drifted towards your face, rubbing his thumb over your cheekbone. You shook your head in response before descending back down to rest your head on his chest, nuzzling your nose into his neck.

His chest vibrated from underneath you as he chuckled, splaying his touch over your lower back. You shuddered once more as he dragged his nails up your spine, goosebumps trailing over your skin in its wake. You sighed as you let yourself relax again, silently enjoying his up-and-down motions.

And then, he stopped. You tilted your head upwards to whine at the loss of the euphoric feeling he was giving you. But before you could utter a sound, he rolled you onto your back, situating himself between your thighs.

Squeaking in surprise, you blinked up at him in astonishment. “What’re you doing?” You whispered, knowing if you spoke any louder, you’d hurt your throat.

He said nothing as he smiled down at you before planting a kiss to your forehead, then your cheek; descending downwards to your neck and chest. You suck in a breath as he reaches your nipple, pulling into his mouth with his tongue as his opposite hand begins its soft groping on your left.

You rake your nails through his hair, moaning at the soft groan you pull from him in return. Finally, he pulls away, leaving a lewd trail of saliva connecting the two of you before it breaks away. He looks up at you again with a self-satisfied gleam to his eyes.

“How about I give us something to remember this time?”

[yawnderu]

Captain's Wife - John Price & TF141 x Reader

work starting to feel like I do belong in the kitchen 💀so here's some Price domestic stuff to keep me going until Friday so I don't lose my mind.

Content: small drabbles, fluff, domestic!Price, vouyerism, John ''I share my wife'' Price, TF141 x reader.

I actually think about being Price's housewife quite a lot. Being a cute little thing he has waiting for him back at home, a domestic life for the first time ever, something he never even thought was possible.

He bought big house in the British countryside, just to make sure you're free from all the stress city life brings. Any hobbies you may have he fully supports and funds, giving you extra spending money on the side despite knowing you don't usually spend it, having all your needs and interests taken care of by him.

This man spoils you rotten without you even asking, having savings for years before he even met you and a good salary as a captain in the SAS. Anything you even glance at when you're out with him at the mall? Bought for you with no hesitation at all. Jewelry, clothes, lingerie; you don't lack any of those things when you're with him.

Any affection you miss while he's deployed is given to you once he's back, his fat cock filling you up in different positions, despite how tired he might be, he always has the energy to fuck his darling wife good. He always puts your pleasure first, making you cum with his fingers and tongue before he even thinks about putting his dick inside. His efforts don't come without rewards, of course, and it has become one of his favorite things to see you down on your knees, praising his thick cock and heavy falls, praising him.

Being a Captain comes with sharing many things with his boys- from gear, to his wife. The first time you're introduced to the boys, the thought of straying doesn't even cross your mind, fully loyal to your husband and simply happy to meet the boys he considers his family. It isn't until Price has you sitting on his lap with your legs wide open, forcing orgasm after orgasm out of you in front of the younger men that the thought of having someone other than him hits your brain.

John doesn't miss the way your eyes linger on the younger men. Soap shamelessly has his dick out, stroking up and down slowly, basking in on the sight of his captain fingering your soaking cunt. Gaz is more subtle about it, though eventually he can't ignore his boner, pulling out the prettiest dick you've ever seen and stroking it with more enthusiasm than the others, free hand massaging his heavy balls, begging for release.

Ghost is the one who takes the longest to give into it, ignoring his painful boner being strained by his jeans up until John is fucking you. The sight of your attractive body bouncing on his captain's cock is too much for him, legs spreading wider on the couch to adjust his boner until his hand hesitantly starts to rub his length over his clothes, shamelessly thinking it's him the one fucking you.

And that fantasy becomes a reality soon enough, once you're fucked-out and your cunt is ready to take more, nice and wet for the men he trusts the most. He has rules for it, of course. They can't fuck you without a condom, anything you feel uncomfortable with is off limits, and if you show any signs of discomfort, they have to stop. Soap only whined about not being able to fuck you raw, earning him a look that got him to shut up immediately.

Gaz is a gentle lover despite how excited he was, eating your cunt out nice and slow, plump lips latching onto your clit while your hand gently pushes the back of his head closer, a teasing ''patience, love.'' escaping his lips as he lines up the tip of his cock to your entrance, slowly pushing in and giving you time to adjust to his thickness before he's fucking into you slowly, making sure every thrust hits deep inside you. He switches positions a few times, settling in for the one that makes you moan louder, hands holding onto your hips as he fucks into you from behind.

Johnny is more eager, more... youthful, just happy to be able to fuck you. He'd never admit it, but he's had his eye on you ever since he first met you, wishing he was as lucky as his captain. He eats you out for the longest, messily sucking and licking all over your cunt, lips latching onto your clit, tongue swirling over it, your moans encouraging him to go for longer even when his tongue is tired. He's on his knees in front of the bed, one of his hands busy jerking himself off and stopping right when he's about to cum just by tasting you. H's not enthusiastic about putting a condom on, though he quickly forgets about his annoyance once he's balls deep inside you, hands holding onto your waist as he fucks into you, fast and deep.

Ghost is the only one who doesn't eat you out yet, being slightly uncomfortable about the whole thing and about being watched. John knows Ghost ever since he was Simon, so he tells the boys to go clean up while he too leaves the room, making sure to be within earshot in case anything happens, despite knowing he can trust Simon with his life. He makes up for it by fingering your cunt, long digits sinking into it slowly, brown eyes fully focusing on your expression to make sure you're enjoying every second of it. It takes a while before he fucks you, condom rolling down his thick length and making sure you're all nice and wet before hesitantly pushing in, holding you in a nice missionary while he thrusts in and out, his massive body caging you in and making you feel safe. The mask goes up halfway, giving you sloppy, inexperienced kisses as a reward for taking him so well. Simon is a talker when he's close, face seeking shelter into the crook of your neck as he praises you for being so good for him, for taking his cock so well and making him feel good.

Once the boys are gone, Price runs a bath for you, asking you if you enjoyed yourself and if you'd be interested on doing that again in the future. He presses gentle kisses to your forehead, warm hands washing your body with love and care, allowing you to fall asleep in his arms even when you're in the bathtub. He dries your body and puts you to bed after changing the sheets, a look of pure adoration in his eyes.

[cordeliawhohung]

Mafia!141 Masterlist

a place for me to put all my mafia!141 related fics so i don't bog down my regular masterlist!

Series:

In Limbo: (Ghost) is it wrong to fall in love while waiting to die?

Price x wife!Reader:

he likes showing you off

when his meetings go wrong...

treating him

proposal and baby talk

john "that's my fuckin' wife" price

how you two fall in love

you're jealous

you're drunk and jealous

taking care of you after you have a kid

your first time

you're insecure

you don't think you're a good mum

Ghost x shy!Reader:

you meet him for the first time

you're at Price's club

headcanons

everyone's watching

he learns you're a virgin

you're drunk

you wanna suck his dick

he helps you feel confident

he helps you feel confident again

you want a baby

he wants you to ride him

more confidence again

he helps you masturbate

guard dog

Soap x nurse!Reader:

how you two meet

you're grumpy after work

no touching

how you two really meet

Gaz x mafia!Reader:

you're a proper pain in the ass

you need a place to stay

Other:

Leftovers [1]: Mr. and Mrs. Price don't know how to take care of you properly. Simon is hellbent on saving you, no matter the means.

Leftovers [2]: you're his, now

Leftovers [3]: you love him

the boys are drunk

you can find any small comments and other anon asks by searching #mafia!141 in my blog!

[shotmrmiller]

soulmate au part 1

john price x f!reader

wc: 1.2k

unedited, forgive my mistakes.

since you were born, your world has been grey. you never thought anything of it, until at school, they started teaching you colours. the only ones in the room that could see more than just different shades of grey, apart from the teacher, were identical twins.

weird.

you went home and asked your parents.

"we are born missing half of ourselves. we have a fated one, and when you meet them, your world will look the way it was meant to."

oh. but... "in class, there were twins that could see colour. what about them?"

they look surprised for a second until your dad softly explains. "in rare instances, the soulmate bond will be platonic. which makes sense in this case, because twins grow up with a connection regular people like us will never understand."

you nod and lower your gaze to look at your shoes. you wonder if the person meant for you is interested in junie b. jones books like you are.

-

in high school, you crush on this pretty girl— a cheerleader. her hair is long and beautiful, her face is small and round, and she's so kind. just your type.

but no colour stains your vision, so you burrow your emotions deep and mourn the loss of what could've been.

-

in college, one of your friends ask you if you've met your soulmate yet.

"no, not yet," you lament. what she says after freezes the blood in your veins.

"my mom knew someone whose soulmate was already dead before they had even been born," she comments while stabbing a grape tomato with her fork. "it was really tragic, because she'll never know what it's like to know a love that has no equal."

your heart is in your throat, and you find it hard to swallow the food in your mouth.

what if your soulmate is already dead? oh, god. you might just throw up. your friend doesn't seem to notice the change in your demeanor and continues to babble carelessly about how she knew someone that knew someone who's soulmate had turned out to be a murderer.

oh my fucking god.

you quickly run to the bathroom and throw up your lunch.

how cruel is the universe? to have no control over who is meant to be for you.

you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand and lean against the stall of the bathroom. you should've known that this soulmate business was too good to be true.

cupping your hands, you rinse the taste of bile out of your mouth before walking back to your friend who stayed in her seat.

"jesus, you look terrible, you alright?" she asks.

running your fingers through your hair, you huff. "i've certainly been better. just got a bit nauseous, nothing serious. maybe it's a stomach bug."

"oooh, you better not be pregnant! what of your dreams of working in the medical field?"

you giggle at her response. "that'd be impossible unless i'm the virgin mary."

she gapes comically then leans in and whispers, "you're lying! don't tell me you haven't dated anyone just because they weren't your soulmate."

you shrug, and keep your eyes fixed on your half-eaten plate of food. "i don't really wanna talk about it, if that's alright with you. besides, you've got bigger things to worry about, like the upcoming exam for mr. richardson."

slapping a hand to her forehead, she exclaims, "oh, shit! i totally forgot! shit!"

you watch her inhale the rest of her salad and toss her trash before waving goodbye and sprinting toward the library.

with a sigh, you look down at your food. grey. lifeless. shaking your head, you pick up your plate and toss it in the bin.

you decide to focus solely on your studies. you have dreams of being a doctor and pining after someone you haven't even met yet would only serve as a distraction.

--

your white coat grazes your calves as you walk toward your new patient. standing outside the room, you pick up the clipboard.

Price, John. 34, Active Military.

he's the head of the task force! god, you've only heard stories of them from the other medics on base who have met them, so to finally come face to face with the man, the myth, the legend? you wipe your clammy hands on the fabric of your scrubs and clear your throat.

be professional, be professional. he's just another patient, it's no big deal.

rapping your knuckles on the door, you wait a second before twisting the knob with a shaky hand. you nervously keep your eyes on the clipboard as you walk in.

"good morning, captain price."

"mornin', doc," he rumbles.

oh, his deep voice just might be the end of you.

"you don't sound all that happy to be here, captain," you tease while flipping through his medical history papers.

he lets out a low chuckle, and you squeeze your thighs together at the sound. delicious.

"nothin' personal, doc. just don't like bein' here, you understand."

lightly laughing at his joke, you finally steel your nerves and look up at him.

only to have your vision bleed in something you don't understand. is that colour? is this what colour looks like?

the clipboard drops, clattering to the floor. john— being the courteous gentleman that he is— quickly kneels to grab it and lifts his head as he hands it to you.

he freezes in place, the clipboard slipping from his hands as he stares at you.

you thickly swallow, and dumbly question, "do you...has your....colour? can you see colour?"

unblinking, john's eyes are fixated on you as he remains silent.

your eyes dart around to take in his features. his brightly-coloured eyes are framed by lines that hint at his age, his strong jaw adorned by a mutton-chop beard. his nose is specked with a beauty mark.

"what colour are your eyes, captain?" you softly ask.

he closes his mouth and takes in a sharp breath. "i've been told they're blue."

"blue," you smile. the eyes of your soulmate are blue.

but then, your delighted smile melts off your face, in horror.

there's a shiny band on his finger. he's married.

john price, your soulmate, is fucking married.

your vision distorts with the tears that threaten to spill and bite your bottom lip to stop it from trembling. it feels like there are shards of glass in your lungs, cutting you open with each quivering breath you take. your pain is red-hot, searing under your skin, flowing through your veins like molten lead.

john knows exactly what you're looking at.

"love—" he starts but you cut him off swiftly.

"don't. you don't owe me anything, captain. uhm, but uh... maybe it's best that we switch your doctors, yeah? conflict of interest, and all that."

you all but run away, away from that room, from him.

how terribly unlucky.

you head towards your office, which is down the hall, and slam the door closed. only then, do you cry, and mourn what should've been.

[celestialwhoree]

Just going to leave this here and then sneak away! K bye! 🎀🩰

John Price is a man who runs on instinct. After years in the forces, he has to be. He's learned that the feeling in his gut is almost never wrong, and learning how to trust it is a skill. Right now though? He's wishing that his stomach would stop roiling. He's so anxious he feels like he might actually be sick. Kyle sits earnestly at his side, hunched over in the plastic hospital chair nursing a long gone flat vending machine Coke.

They've been tuning out your screams for a good three hours now.

Something within John breaks with every guttural cry that sounds from under the doorway. He's heard so many countless screams of agony from faceless people. They've been and gone in his head like a passing storm. Yours, he thinks, will stick for a lifetime.

Realistically, he knows that you're safe. Receiving the best care you possibly can, safe within the walls of the modern private hospital his insurance more than covers. He also can't help but remind himself just how complicated giving birth can be - and you're so delicate to him.

He's not actually sure when Kyle got here, having been running on autopilot since your contractions started yesterday. All the boys love you just as much as you do them, and when he'd messaged their shared group with a simple: > On way to hospital now. they'd been so shit scared.

Each one of them had opted to take up shifts staying beside their captain in the hospital, waiting earnestly for if they were at all needed. Johnny had picked up groceries, claiming that he' d best know what to get for a new mum, seeing as he's the only one besides Price who actually has sisters, and a niece of his own. None of them would ever admit that they also wanted to be the first to see little baby Price, and to check in on his wife who'm they'd grown to love so much, but there'd definitely been attempts on all three sides to work out when the baby would approximately pop, so that they could time their stint accordingly.

"Think she's okay in there?" John croaks, lifting his head from his palms, squinting at the fluorescent hall lights with a tired grunt.

Kyle swallows the sip of Coke in his mouth before responding. "She's a trooper. I think if anyone can handle having a baby, it's your missus."

Hours later, your small hospital room falls silent, and John is immediately up on his feet, back ramrod straight, everything alert. And then, a baby cries. It's a little hiccuping whinge at first, but then his baby seems to find their voice, wailing up a storm.

"You should go. See them." Kyle prompts quietly, noticing his captain's reverie as he just stands there staring at the closed door.

Nurses file out one by one, whilst he makes his way in, a dazed sort of look on his face as he sees the swaddles blanket you hold close to your chest, gurgling softly as tiny fat fists reach out to your nose.

The stillness in the room is like time stops entirely, only finally broken by a soft "Hey." as your husband makes his way quietly to your side.

"Hi." You breathe, a soft smile blossoming on your tired face, scooting along in the hospital bed so he can sit beside you.

The reverence on his face as he looks down towards the face of such a small creature is a look only talked about in fairytales. A look that tells you that your baby is the luckiest child in the world to have a dad like John.

"She's a girl." You laugh softly, noticing the look on John's face, the one that says he's holding his tongue.

"Oh, my baby girl." Tears spring to his cerulean eyes as he brushes a gentle finger down the soft slope of her tiny nose.

For a moment, the two - three - of you sit in total stillness, entirely enraptured by the tiny human you currently keep held so closely to your chest. Until there's a quiet, tentative knock on the door.

"Mrs Price? Can we come in?" Kyle's voice comes softly from the other side, but before you can even finish your "Yes" not just Kyle, but also Simon and Johnny are practically barrelling into the room, barely able to contain their intrigue as they lock eyes with the little blanket wrapped parcel they've been waiting nine months to meet.

The minute you invite them to look at the sleeping face of your daughter, they're practically tripping over themselves to see the much anticipated baby Price.

"Looks jus' like her mam." Johnny observes, whilst Simon just stares, and Kyle busies himself with taking a picture of you, John and your baby girl.

"Bought 'er a present, mrs Price." Simon admits a little sheepishly as he pulls a haphazardly wrapped parcel from his coat pocket. A stuffed ghost teddy only just the size of your fist. "To remind 'er that uncle ghost is always looking out for her."

You're practically crying at the thought behind his gift, carefully side-hugging the lieutenant with the arm that's not holding your daughter.

"We're all here for her. And for you. Always. One for one and that."

[bleuu-moon]

i’m so caught up on that fact that john looks like he’s got a signature smell that just clings to you whenever you’ve been near him, whether it was was for ten minutes or an hour. and it’s so easy for people to tell when you’ve been with him.

especially simon.

he knows you spend time with john, it’s all apart of the mutual agreement between you three. he knows john keeps you company when he’s not there, keeping your bed warm and all of your needs satisfied, its vice versa for him too. but he can’t deny the twinge of resentment he feels within his chest, when you spend too much time with him; when he can smell him in on your skin, on your clothes, in your hair. even the way you taste changes, and simon does not like it — to say the least.

“you’ve been with john today.”

it’s a statement that he hums against the bare skin of your inner thigh, before pressing a kiss to the same spot, giving the tops of your legs a squeeze. you, not computing what he’d spoke properly due to his face being so close to your pussy.

“hm?”

“stink of him”

“o-oh, this morning, stayed at his.”

you swear you hear hear him tut at your reply, but you can’t help but smirk at his clear, compressed jealousy. your eyes still closed in bliss, already knowing that he’s scowling up at you from between your legs.

“best get you in the shower then, love, get rid of the smell—”, he growls, before he’s jumping from the bed and snatching you out of your place, throwing you into the fireman’s lift over his shoulder.

“i’m home now.”

[syoddeye]

useless

Part one of my submission to @glitterypirateduck's O, Captain! Challenge. I rolled a d100 to select three prompts. Part one uses two:

42. The story spans over a period of 10 or more years

14. Opposites attract

~2k words, Price x f!Reader. Some liberties were taken with canon, obvs. Please enjoy!

You meet John Price when you're fifteen years old. 

Being the new kid is never easy, but you have some practice. This is the fifth time your family has moved since you were born. Such is life when your mother's an ambassador. However, it is your first time attending an actual school, and it's miserable. It doesn't matter who your mother is when your peers are the children of millionaires, celebrities, and executives. Compared to them, you're a nobody, just easy pickings.

But compared to John, you might as well be a princess. 

The son of your mother's assistant, you see John almost every day. You do not attend the same school, of course. Despite the awfulness of its students, your school has standards, after all, but every day after the last bell, you and your security detail fetch John to rendezvous at your family's sprawling home. Since both sets of your parents work long and odd hours, you spend a great deal of time together. Usually, you study, eat dinner, maybe read or watch television, but you do not necessarily talk. He's as surly as an old man, unpleasant on good days and unbearable on bad ones.

You don't look at John when he slides into the car anymore. You're enthralled in Sabriel, too busy to acknowledge him, that is until you feel his eyes on you. 

"What?"

"Didn't say anything."

"You're staring," You huff, lowering the book, only to almost drop it. "What happened to your face?!"

A purpling, inky black bruise covers John's swollen left eye. It's nasty, but he looks bored by the question.

"Scrapped. Some idiot ran his mouth."

"So you hit him? Then he hit you?"

"That's generally how it works," He says dismissively, crossing his arms and leaning into the seat to stare out the window.

You roll your eyes and return to the Abhorsen. "Your mom's gonna kill you."

He doesn't have a comeback for that. 

Predictably, his mom loses it when she arrives to pick him up. Throws a fit, her anger evenly split between John and his school. You watch from the top of the stairs as your mother consoles her friend and offers advice before they leave. John scowls, the expression deepening when he catches you listening in. You give a shit-eating grin before retreating to your room. Serves him right for fighting. Boys.

Of course, though, in a rotten turn of events, his mother leverages her position, and John enrolls in your school. Due to your relationship, you're naturally coupled together both in and outside of the classroom. It isn't for lack of trying on your peers' parts. You can grudgingly admit John's a good-looking boy. He has all the makings of a popular kid. Athletic, intelligent, and withdrawn, just enough to make people wonder in a good way. He's regularly asked out, the invitations often extended in your company. You don't miss how other girls look at him or glare at you.

Jokes on them, he's easily the most unpleasant person you've ever had the displeasure to know.

"What are you putting down on the careers interest form?" You ask one afternoon, sprawled on the couch while John sits with his back to it, reading.

"SAS. Enlisting next year."

"Military? How noble." You muse. "Your dad's not–"

"No," His head turns a fraction. "But my grandfather served. North Africa."

It's the first you've heard of it. John doesn't talk much about his family, nor do you make a habit of asking. You don't pay close attention to the adults' conversations either. "Well, you're pretty strong and clever, I guess," you temper the compliments, uneasy about doling them out to him. So you'll fair well, I bet."

He doesn't respond for a minute before a quiet "Thank you," ekes out. 

For whatever reason, your face heats. How embarrassing. You tap your pen against your blank form, grateful he faces away. Yet as a silence follows and stretches, irritation sidles alongside discomfiture. Honestly, this is what you'd like to show the girls at school. Prove that John's actually quite annoying. 

"Now's about the time another person would ask what I'm putting down."

John doesn't look up from his book. "I know what you're going to write."

You bristle. "Oh, do you? Enlighten me."

"Artist. Writer. Actress. Something useless."

In one fluid movement, you sit up and strike him across the crown with your notebook. "You're such an asshole!" You quickly create distance between his stupid, stunned face and yourself, stomping all the way to the stairs. Halfway up the steps, you crouch, pressing your face between the balusters. "You're not going to amount to anything!"

You don't speak to him after that—not entirely, of course. Your families are too intertwined to avoid him completely, but the incident strains your already tenuous relationship. It's awkward and tense, though neither of your families notices the shift. You sit in silence at joint dinners. You leave him alone in the den after school. You latch on to other singletons in class, avoiding him in the halls.

Months pass, and as John declared, he enlists the moment the school term ends. Freshly sixteen, and scheduled to ship out to basic. 

The morning he leaves, your mother drags you to his house. You stand speechless on the walk outside when he marches out with his rucksack. His head's shaved. He grew an inch and filled out some in the last few weeks when you weren't paying attention. Still a boy, but clearly on his way to becoming a man.

His mother all but shoves him at you to say goodbye. He stares down at you now, the twit. 

"Good luck." It's the nicest thing you can manage.

"Break a leg," He responds, hauling his bag over his shoulder. "Don't be useless."

You're too busy noticing how his eyes are the same color as the sky to feel even a twinge of irritation.

When he files into the waiting taxi, his mother bursts out into sobs. You watch the car until it disappears down the next street, trying to understand why your chest is so tight.

It’s a decade before you see him again.

~~

"I told the Prices you'd pop by."

You nearly fumble your card, phone cradled between your shoulder and ear, and clumsily tap it against the scanner. Mouthing an apology to the disinterested cashier, you take your bag and find your words.

"Why would you do that?" You ask, unable to completely mask your disdain. "I told you I have plans for New Years." 

Your mother tsks. "Surely you can pencil in some of our oldest friends for an hour tomorrow."

The automatic doors open, and the wintry air envelops you instantly. The plastic bag taut in the crook of your arm, you flip the collar of your coat and start the return trek to your flatshare. "I haven't seen them since graduation, since we moved back to Virginia."

"And you moved back to London, what, eight months ago?" Her end muffles a moment while she says something to her aide. Her voice is sterner when she speaks again. "They've been asking about your job, how acting's going…" Her voice trails, leaving the works or not going unspoken.

You swallow, tucking your chin into your scarf to consider the remainder of the conversation. "Fine. I'll stop by tomorrow afternoon. But I'm not staying late. I have plans." You don't. You did have an invite to a party a week ago, but that was before Jeff decided Jane from work was 'more his speed'. More 'conventional'. Though you'd seen the breakup coming for weeks and the relationship only a measly six months old, it still stung. Since coming back to London, you've had more than enough rejection.

Dozens of auditions. Dozens more interviews. Zip, zilch, zero. No callbacks, no non-speaking roles. And while you are the favorite stage manager for several small local theaters and Yes Woman, you weren't any closer to the stage. Something your mother loves to remind you of. Between her rapid ascent up the career ladder and your decision to study theater, an uncrossable gulf cropped up between you. It grew with each passing day. Moreso, when you reject every offer of financial support or connection. Her support means control. Ownership. You won't have it.

The conversation drifts to other topics—Dad, mostly. He's still putting around after her, content in his retirement. They'll spend New Year's at the White House, of course. You're pushing through the door to your place when she drops the bomb.

"John'll be there, too."

This time, you drop your keys.

~~

There is no excuse you can make to back out now. You wait on the top step of the Price's home. It's smaller than you remember. You hear people inside, music, and laughter. You hesitate. Given what you told your mother, they probably expected you far earlier than nine, but you barely mustered the courage to leave your room. You practically blacked out on the tube, leaving the station in a daze with your cheap bubbles. Taking a deep breath, you reach for the door. No time for stage fright.

The foyer is a time capsule, aside from the dozens of coats hanging on hooks and a coat rack. Framed photos of the Prices throughout the years line the short corridor leading further into the home. John's center stage for most of them. You hang your coat and slowly edge down memory lane, pausing when you see your own face looking back at you. Aged fifteen, the first day of school. You and John in different uniforms, sulking for different reasons. It was the last time you were the same height.

There are a lot of photographs of you in the hallway gallery. Ones you didn't know existed. You get stuck on a still of you and John from behind. It's from the London Zoo, from some ridiculous event your mother's work mandated you attend. The photo is simple, accidentally composed almost professionally. You and John lean against the rail overlooking the lion exhibit. You excitedly point at the pair lazing about in the shade, and John…John's focus is on you.

The sound of your name rips you away from the moment, and Mrs. Price beckons from the doorway to the living area.

The reunion between yourself and Prices is sweeter than you thought it would be. It's odd to see them older. As jarring as it is when you see your own parents, as sparingly as those visits are. Wrinkles, spots, graying hairs…But unlike your parents, none of the familiar warmth is missing from the Prices. They fuss, complimenting your secondhand dress and gushing over the bottom shelf champagne. They awkwardly introduce you to the closest guests, some claiming to have met you as a teenager. But you feel Mrs. Price's hand on your back, gently ushering and ushering, until you arrive at the threshold of the kitchen.

He's taller, tanner, and a hell of a lot broader than you remember him.

"John? Look who's here!"

You step into the kitchen with a gentle nudge from Mrs. Price, and the figure from many memories and more than a handful of confusing and mortifying dreams turns to face you.

Your name slips from his mouth in an arrogant purr, and the little tug of his lip into a smirk instantly pokes at your patience. He's literally only said your name, and already he's resurrected the same shade of vexation you felt ten years ago.

You're going to need something stronger than champagne.

[greenandsorrow]

the price for misbehaving (i)

Alastor in the rut x gn!reader

WARNINGS; 18+, reader has female parts, horniness, hormones, deer!demon!reader, doe!demon!reader, breeding!k1nk, primal instincts, premature ejaculation, mentions of deer mating season, dry humping, penetrative sex, marking & biting, masturbation, friends to lovers, very descriptive, smut with emotion, corn with plot, fictional man being pathetic

Banners from; @cafekitsune & @saradika-graphics

Please do not repost or directly copy my work and if you take inspiration for something similar don't forget to credit me.❤️

I somehow always manage to write more than originally planned, so this is big. Also, this is my first time writing a gender neutral reader I'm still learning.

my original idea ~following part~SOON*

Alastor is the radio demon. You have no clue how he manages to behave like he's the epitome of etiquette and a true gentleman, while also having the reputation of one of the most dangerous citizens of Hell, an overlord, a sinister killer and a cannibal.

Alastor is your friend. You fell in Hell three decades after him, but the fact that you're also a deer demon seemed to get him interested in you. His smile is less a sign of dominance and more one of sympathy around you. What's more, the radio demon is a tad bit protective when it comes to you. You'll never know it, but Alastor has his way of keeping you safe, discreetly pulling the strings, luckily for your sake.

He had been missing for years and when he had come to your door, big grin, shiny hooves and polished cane and had told you about the "Hazbin Hotel" you hadn't questioned much. It was weird that someone like him would back up Lucifer's daughter on such an idealistic plan, but with the extermination being a constant bane in your life, you had agreed heartily. You had wrapped your arms around Alastor's lean frame in a never recorpirated hug and you'd been off to your new place of residence.

You like the hotel. You and Niffty are old friends, the barman is a familiar face and Charlie is thrilled to have you here. The other residents have been no trouble to you, so you've managed to adjust to your new lifestyle no problem.

Let's not forget one thing though, you're all sinners and Alastor is ten times the amount you are. This comes with consequences for him. Alastor is bound to face an eternal struggle against his animal side, a struggle that he's been destined to lose. According to Angel, the radio demon you call your friend would identify as asexual had he been born later on Earth. But even with that, the urges he has to experience during the rutting season can't be prevented. You're still unaware your friend has to go through this.

But that's Alastor's price for misbehaving.

It's another evening at the hotel.

Charlie and Vaggie are on a date and that means no planned activities for the rest of you. You like the peace and quiet. Your deer ears are lowered in concentration as you're sitting on the couch of the lounge area, reading a book which has turned out to be a sick and twisted edition of Pride & Prejudice.

Alastor's been very distant since the beginning of autumn. More than usual. It's almost October now... and it has peaked your interest why he has been spending whole days locked up in his quarters. Sometime during September, you two had been chatting merrily about jazz, when all of a sudden his pupils had shrank and he had let out an uncharacteristically shaky sigh. You remember how his breathing had sped up and he had smiled politely before vanishing into thin air.

You're about to stand up and go to your room, when your ears practically perk up at the sound of static. You know this sound... and even though it usually means bad news, you look up and give the source of it a little smile. "Oh, hi Al..."

Alastor's antlers begin to grow, but he can control himself for now. The rutting starts hitting him with a new wave of frustration and it's getting worse now that he's in your presence.

"My favorite y/n! What are you reading my dear?", his grin and confidence hide how vulnerable he feels in this state.

"Charlie gifted me some of her old books and-"

"Oh Charlie! She is a gem, isn't she?" Alastor suddenly leans to the side, as if trying to scratch something out of his hair. His face quickly returns back to its normal grin... but he also begins to scratch his arm.

You chuckle awkwardly. Why is he looking so irritable?

"Well, she's so nice, I can't disagree with you there... and I'm glad she finally decided to take some time off to spend with her girlfriend." He laughs, showing off his sharp teeth as you initiate in the small talk.

Alastor can feel a voice deep within calling him to give in and claim you, breed you 'till his hunger is satisfied. The radio demon's expression fades to an empty, dull stare, as his instincts fight against him. Now you're feeling uneasy and you shift in your seat.

"Ah- sorry dear. Got caught up there, I forgot myself." Alastor takes a quick breath, his eyes narrow as he struggles to stay in control. "Don't you worry y/n! I'm certainly quite harmless."

He's in full rutting mode, his voice starts becoming breathy, the animalistic urges taking over. It's only getting worse as he stands close to you, the hormones increasing his urge to be near you, to make you his and his alone-

His voice is hoarse now and his breathing is heavier. "Have you seen Niffty by chance?" His ears move as if they're itching him.

You clear your throat and try to keep your curiosity regarding his behavior at bay. "I'm afraid I haven't, she's probably killing bugs somewhere..."

Alastor's expression shifts to one of pure annoyance. To your oblivious so far mind, Al is probably just pissed off at something. "Well then, if you happen to see her, do tell her she better not disturb me at my room... and don't you dare forget it my dear!"

"I- I won't."

His pupils almost completely disappear as he stares at you and his mouth curls into a snarl with his yellowish teeth out. He has a hypnotic effect on you, you're beginning to feel lightheaded being near him. He takes a step back, moving a safe distance away from you, because he feels like he's gonna launch on you at any given moment. Alastor is getting tired of trying to maintain his composure around you.

He hates how shallow his breathing has become, how the urge to take you has become too much for him to bear. A low growling noise escapes him. Alastor watches you as you resume your previous activity of reading. Humiliated from his lack of control and frustrated from the stinging sensation in his loins he slips away from the lounge.

Alastor is alone now, his eyes wild with lust and desperation as he looks around his room in a frenzy. He grabs a pillow and starts rubbing his groin against it. He feels like his body is melting from all the heat... he can't help but imagine the pillow is your backside.

"Oh~", he breathes out raggedly, his inhales shallower and shallower as his imagination toys with him. You'd look so delicious in the place of the lifeless pillow... Alastor's heart is racing and his antlers have grown sharp and tall on his head. He is overwhelmed, being rather sexually unbothered the rest of the year has made his shaft extra sensitive .

...why him? Why does he have to go through this rutting thing? It makes him feel powerless and he hates it...

Alastor groans in desperation. He squeezes his eyes shut, imagining your soft skin sliding against his body... He thinks of your cute fluffy tail. You get all your clothes tailored so that there's space for it to protrude... he always tucks his in his suit pants...

In a fury, he takes off his coat and crawls on the bed, placing the pillow between his legs. He's in all fours as he humps it like a real deer.

He keeps growling, the sound mixing with static. He can't stop thinking of you- the perfect mate... another deer. Alastor's mind is playing out all these amazing things, your smile and your voice, your butt, your ears that match his own... and your neck that he'd definitely mark with his teeth if he was ever given the chance.

Alastor is in a trance. With shaky hands he curses himself for, he reaches down to his crotch and takes out his cock. His tip is flushed and swollen and he hisses as he continues to push his hips against the pillow. The deer demon grunts softly, his hips moving involuntarily with restless abandon as he pretends to be mating with a partner.

"Take that... oh~" Alastor's cock throbs painfully, desperate for release. The pillow has been providing him with some much needed friction the last few weeks, but he knows it soon won't be enough to satisfy him. His red hair is sticking to his forehead and he's panting so much, chasing his release with a desperation he'd consider pathetic, if he could focus on anything else than his tightening balls.

Alastor continues to rub against the pillow and the motion makes his deer tail slip out of his suit pants. He can feel his body heat up even more, sweat beading on his forehead as he approaches his climax.

Your curiosity has gotten the best of you. You can't concentrate on your book and all you can think of is Alastor. In any case, the other residents of the hotel are busy doing their own thing, so there's no one stopping you from walking all the way to Alastor's rooms. There's static coming from his bedroom, but what really intrigues you are the groans... they're rather guttural... You assume maybe he hunted down an animal and he's devouring it? This has to be it...

On the other side of the door, Alastor is shaking with desire and his heart is pounding. The smell of you that he assumes is part of his fantasy is driving him insane, as he is almost ready to release a torrent of hot cum on his pillow.

"Alastor?", you knock on the door.

This sudden surprise almost causes Alastor to fall over. He quickly covers his twitching member and throws the pillow away from him. One would expect him to feel embarrassed, but his first thought at being caught red handed is to kill you. Luckily for you, it's just a thought.

"Al? It's y/n. Can I come in?"

The radio demon's face contorts in desperation as he realizes how unsatisfied he feels. His hips are still rocking back and forth slightly, despite his attempts to control his body.

Why did you have to pay him a visit NOW? He was so close to finding relief...

Alastor has become desperate and not to mention agitated. What if you smell his arousal in the air? What if you look down and see the outline of his dick in his pants?!

He groans and shifts uncomfortably. The demon closes his eyes for a moment as he tries to even out his breathing.

Eventually, he shakes his head and walks to the door. He has fought against mighty overlords, he shouldn't hesitate to face his harmless friend just because he is in the rut.

Alastor doesn't want to admit it, but he most definitely is in breeding mode. Proof of that... the moment he opens the door for you, your smell becomes so strong to his heightened senses that he almost cums in his pants from it. Your friend swallows a groan.

"To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit my dear?"

Taking in his appearance, something is definitely off to your inquisitive eyes. You notice how he's only in his shirt and vest, something truly rare for the Alastor you've come to know. His bow tie is crooked and the cherry on top... you can see his tail! It's red like his ears and... moving? You wonder why. Is he in musth or something? you joke in your head.

"I was just bored in all honesty... Everyone is occupied with something. Um... you look... sick?"

"Ha!Ha! Don't be absurd y/n! You can't get any sicker than you already are in Hell!" he can't hide the slight edge from his voice. He claims he is fine, but the look on his face screams otherwise.

Alastor's temperature keeps rising, his body is so sensitive and without realizing it, he neglects to filter his voice.

"Would you like to come in?"

Your eyes widen and you look at him with genuine surprise clear on your features. He quickly catches up that he screwed, but lets it go, the shivers he's starting to experience as his unattended cock is asking for some action having gained all his focus.

The air in the room is thick and you begin to have second thoughts about your decision to come here, but it's too late for that, so you just walk in Alastor's bedroom. His quarters are always clean and intimidating like their occupant. Still, you like coming here, he's never been hostile towards you and if anything, dancing with Alastor or spilling some tea with him has always been part of your routine here at the hotel.

"Wanna dance?"

"You know I always do." Alastor manages to keep his smile and composure despite the sweat running down his back.

The jookbox starts playing on its own and you casually walk closer to your years long friend. Since he's always been much taller, you place your hands on his chest, while he wraps his own around your waist.

Alastor's lips start tingling as he looks down at your exposed neck. He bites the insides of his mouth until he tastes blood, he can't allow himself to think about you like that.

You sway back and forth in the rhythm of the old timey tunes, inevitably rubbing against him. The new found friction has him biting down on his tongue and clenching his fists behind your back until his nails are piercing his palms, otherwise he'd be howling out in despair.

Immersed in the songs you love so much, you unconsciously shift even closer to your fellow deer demon, but he harshly jerks away from you, his expression growing panicked. "H- haha... I c- can't let you d- do that my friend!"

You frown. Why can't you dance with him like you always do? ...and did the radio demon just stutter? You sigh at his lack of cheerfulness and look down.

Your now downcast gaze gives you a nice view of his... crotch area... and the said area has a raging bulge. Your first thought is to touch it and indulge in the attraction you've always felt for Alastor, but the way his antlers are growing right now and the static that's peaking up again... makes you turn to leave.

Long fingers wrap around your wrist in an instant and when you turn back at him, his eyes have changed.

"The song's not over dear y/n.", he says in the same strained tone and you swallow.

"R- right... my bad."

He has you pressed tightly against him in no time and he's swaying with you almost like he's on autopilot. And you can now feel his unbelievably hard erection against your lower body. Alastor grunts softly, his smile faltering as his cock keeps throbbing painfully within his pants, desperate for release.

The demon's eyes wander over you, taking in your form. He knows he has to maintain some semblance of control, but his hormones are off the roof. Without realizing the inappropriateness of his actions, Alastor reaches out to touch you, his fingers grazing the skin of your cheek. The demon's cock throbs even harder at the contact, leaking pre-cum in his underwear.

"You're so beautiful..."

Heat pools in your belly and your face flushes at his simple comment. He's a charmer, but that's new. His monocle slips down slightly as he leans in close, his scent of musk and arousal surrounding you.

Alastor's hands move to your hips, pulling you impossibly close. His eyes lock onto yours, filled with lust and a primal need. He presses his hips against yours and you can feel his clothed cock twitching eagerly.

His monocle falls to the floor as he loses himself in the rutting.

"Al- what's happening?"

Before you can question his unusual behaviour any further, Al presses his hardened length against your stomach with intent. A mix of frustration and pleasure is clear on his features.

To say you're surprised would be an understatement, but you don't stop him. You watch in awe as your bricked up friend loses himself to lust and his need to mate.

Your innocent dancing moment has turned into him dry humping you. He releases a guttural groan, too far gone to care about composure.

Alastor begins to grind against you faster, mimicking the movements of a rutting deer. His grip tightens around you, his need growing stronger and overwhelming. The bulge in his pants keeps pushing insistently against you, but you're so stunned by this turn of events that you grab him by the arms and take a step back.

Alastor's eyes flatter open and for a moment... he snaps out of his blurry state of mind. He straightens and clears his throat. He then gives you a stern look, with his ears lowered.

"Get out."

"B- but we were-"

"You don't want to make me repeat myself."

The moment he's alone again, Alastor works the buttons of his dress pants in a daze, freeing his swollen cock. A low growl rumbles in his chest and the deer demon is convinced that if he doesn't cum in the following minute, he's going to die a second time. He keeps making soft sounds, his body aching with the need to mate.

He had you right here, but he can't bring himself to be so vulnerable in front of someone other than himself.

What would Vox say if he found out that Alastor is forced to go through a mating season like some fucking animal? Why does the price of his sins have to manifest into some primal need to breed?

"Fffffuck!"

His mind gets fixated on the ache between his legs.

With an animalistic sound of pure lust, Alastor reaches down and wraps his fingers around one of his heavy testacles. He squeezes it gently, feeling his warm seed oozing out his slit. He leaks copious amounts of pre-cum on his crimson bedsheets. The radio demon watches, transfixed by the sight of his own seed dripping down the length of his hard dick. It's a powerful aphrodisiac for him and he can't help but imagine it spilling into you instead.

His cock twitches in anticipation and he gives in. Every day since the rutting season began, he has been trying to suppress his instincts and today has been no different, if anything, your presence made his hormones go even more nuts... and you should be happy you're not carrying his fawns by now.

Alastor begins to stroke himself, legs spread and sweat making his clothes stick to his body. His breath catches in his throat as his hips involuntarily back into his hand. The tips of his claws grow slightly and he's jerking himself off at a punishing pace now. Alastor's groans turn into pleasured whimpers as he arches his back, driving his erection deeper in his hand.

What would it feel like to finish inside you? To make you come... To have your heat contracting around his rock-hard member as you milk him past the point of no return?

"Oh- ...agh- y/n..." He's murmuring things in unknown languages, but it all comes back to your name.

Alastor's hips begin to thrust forward in time with his strokes, seeking release from the torment of his lust. He snarls and growls in a throaty manner. He physically can't take it anymore, his balls feel like they're on fire...

The radio demon's eyes roll back in his head, the pleasure is intense, but it's only fueling his desire for a real partner more. His fingers are sliding up and down his sensitive shaft and he can feel himself getting closer, but he knows that's not enough. Al's breath has become ragged, his monocle forgotten along with his pride somewhere far away... his vision is blurring...

Feeling himself nearing the edge, Alastor grits his teeth and pushes through the pain. His muscles tense... and then, he finally comes in a powerful burst of pleasure, shooting thick ropes of cum across the room. He keeps coming, his hips bucking upward, pushing his cock even deeper into his fist as he empties himself.

Alastor's orgasm was intense, almost violent, but it was the sweet release he's been craving all day long. As his climax finally begins to subside, the demon collapses back onto his bed, panting heavily.

However, his cock has remained hard and throbbing between his legs, demanding more attention as he tries to catch his breath.

Slowly, a tired Alastor sits up and glances down at his still engorged member. A part of him is reveling in the feeling of power that comes with being so thoroughly aroused. He needs to fuck something, anything, his eyes are gleaming with lust.

But hasn't he been tormented enough? Why isn't he satisfied yet?

He reaches for the nearest object. It doesn't matter what it is, as long as it can take his powerful cock and bear the brunt of his ferocious passion. With a sinister chuckle, Alastor picks up another unlucky cushion and holds it tightly against his hips. His cock jerks repeatedly as he positions himself with the head of his shaft pressing against the soft fabric.

The cushion offers little resistance but serves as an outlet for Alastor's raging desire. He pounds away at it, relentlessly, his body shaking. With the ever present sound of static, evidence of his frustration, he rhythmically pistons in and out of his makeshift partner with brutal force.

He's been doing this for weeks now, all the unsatisfied hunger making him lose his sanity bit by bit.

The radio demon's eyes are glazed over with passion. He continues fucking the cushion with savage intensity... still he wishes he could take it out on someone made of flesh and blood, someone who would react and offer him some reassurance that he's not going to pass out.

The pleasure is threatening to overwhelm Alastor once again and with labored breathing, he frantically moves his hips-

"N- no, n- no....agh-" He lets out a feral roar, spurting a sticky cumshot onto the cushion. This time, when he collapses on the mattress, he is exhausted.

He doesn't bother looking down at his angry cock, the discomfort isn't going away till the mating season ends...

...let's go back to you now.

After being so abruptly pushed away by Alastor, you went straight to your room. You have a lot to ponder over after tonight. Maybe you did have a small a crush on your friend that had allowed the situation to escalate. His behavior has been so off putting though.

You'd been proud of yourself, considering that you know Alastor better than anyone else in Hell, since he talks about everything with you over a cup of tea. He had been so excited to tell you he'll soon be back on air and he's always somewhere around you at all times. So, the fact that he just expressed sexual desire for you and then told you to leave him alone immediately after...

You would have never guessed that your fellow deer demon is interested in sex. He's been in the company of some of the most desired demons, but he's simply not into that kind of thing... Yet, he had dry humped you like some desperate animal.

His scent had been so blissful to your nostrils, that he had almost woken something primal in your own body. There's definitely a lot of tension between you two now and you hope that tomorrow he will approach you.

You sigh and get all cozy under your bed covers. How should you deal with the situation at hand? You know him. Not just the radio demon, or Alastor the cannibal, but him.

Maybe the whole redemption thing is working, but when did you start being so considerate and thoughtful of other sinners' hardships? And if your friend's hardship is a constant hard on, perhaps your services will be appreciated... or you've just been hanging out with Angel too much.

It's a new day in Hell.

You take your time getting ready before joining Niffty in the kitchen to make breakfast.

Alastor is sat on his bed, his face buried in his hands as he trembles with unwanted arousal. He's almost at the point of a nervous breakdown. The radio demon is getting angrier with himself, the urge to find you and claim you is getting worse and worse and he struggles to maintain his calm.

Alastor gets ready. His routine a bit different when in rutting mode. He first relieves some of the pressure in his balls, he then puts on a clean shirt, fixes his hair and places his red monocle back in place. And of course, his smile, because he's never fully dressed without one!

"Oh good morning my fellows! What a pleasant breakfast you seem to be having!" He prefers to eat alone, so him appearing late isn't something worth noticing... but the tenting in his trousers definitely is... and when Angel smirks mischievously at him, Alastor smiles in such an unnerving manner that the spider demon has to cower behind Husk.

"Al! Morning!", you say a bit too cheerfully. Your deer ears rise on your head to match your general attitude.

The radio demon grins at you, internally relieved you're not keeping last night against him. He rarely feels any remorse (part of why he's in Hell), but he's not proud of snapping at you last night just because he's irritable and frustrated 24/7. You're a deer demon like him, but you never get in heat like an animal, you weren't as sinister as he was when alive and therefore your punishment isn't as tormenting.

You stand up and start gathering the dishes. Charlie is eager to help you, but you manage to deny her excessive kindness for once.

Alastor swallows a guttural growl as you turn your back at him and start walking to the kitchen, your deer tail and your ass all too enticing for him. His legs begin to move against his will, following you like he's being driven purely by instinct. He is once again biting his tongue hard enough to taste the familiar to him metallic taste of blood. There is a certain strain the urge is causing him... and for once Alastor is feeling desperate for touch.

"Angel and I are going outside today, he said he wants me to meet a friend of his... um, I think her name's Cherri or something." You obviously felt his presence, his red eyes feasting on your form the whole time.

"How delightful, making new acquaintances! I am still decorating my humble station. Haha!"

"Oh, I can't wait to experience your radio show again Al! It's been so long!" His arrogant smirk is accompanied by a twitch of his stiff dick. The energy boost he feels when you acknowledge his power... it makes him dangerously lightheaded.

He walks closer to you, looming right behind you as you stretch to put something on a high self. Alastor has you trapped between the kitchen counter and his body. The demon's cock throbs painfully against the fabric of his pants. The said fabric growing damp as he grows harder.

With a frenzied urgency, Alastor gives in to his animal side and leans in, his hot breath in your ear is sending shivers down your spine, your pupils dilating.

"Do you even realize what you've been doing to me sweet y/n?"

He is getting impatient... and when you don't answer him immediately, he presses his tent against your ass. "Do you my little deer?"

The sound of static feels the air, his voice distorted and his breathing heavier than before. "You... have no idea how much I want- no... how much I need this, with you."

You swallow, your own breath has sped up and heat has pooled in your tummy again. But when you turn to look at him, you come face to face with a hideous creature with wild eyes. You flinch. Alastor's smile fails him and you swear you hear the most discreet of sniffles coming from him.

"Help me." That's proof enough for you that your friend is going through something he clearly didn't ask for, but it's taking over him anyway.

Angel Dust has described to you how he'd needed time to get used to having multiple arms and you have to file down your antlers daily, so that they don't overgrow and cause you headaches. Alastor on the other hand loses himself to primal urges once a year.

You lock your gaze on his and extend a steady hand, placing it on the side of his pale face. Not only does he allow it, but your small gesture seems to have an effect on Alastor, his demon form receding... and you can see how sweaty and shaky he really is, while trying so hard to hold back from bending you over the counter and taking you raw right now.

"Stay still..." It's now or never for you. You hesitantly cup the bulge on his pants.

Alastor gasps, his eyes rolling back in his head as he leans into your touch. He's already so aroused that any contact is sending shivers down his spine. He buries his face in your neck and starts nibbling or better... biting around your collarbones. It’s a cannibalistic urge of his, but he would kill himself before causing you any real harm.

Alastor groans, his still clothed member twitching under the pressure of your hand. The demon can barely think straight, his rutting instincts taking over completely.

"I need... I need to be inside you." He can only whisper, reaching down to pull your shirt up, his fingers trembling as he does, revealing your upper body to him. "Yes... I need you."

This is all so sudden for you, but you finally know with certainty what's happening. "You're... mating or something?"

You stop rubbing his clothed crotch and Alastor moans, the sound carrying the old audio like effect. He nods slightly, his hips bucking against your hand. He's so close to losing control. The mating season has driven him mad with lust. A lust projected on you it seems.

"Y/n... I need you now."

"Al... they- they're gonna hear us... we're in the frickin' kitchen! ...we can't...can't-"

Alastor's eyes widen and he stumbles back a step, his erection painfully asking to be freed from his dress pants. He looks at you incredulously, angrily. "What?! But I... I said that I need you." He starts panting, there's a look of betrayal on his face that has you short circuiting.

"I'm already half naked here and you're... you're obviously hard- it's too risky!"

"I. Don't. Care."

"Well you should... but..." you sigh.

"I do have another idea. I've been rather inactive in the afterlife but... I can do it for you."

Your friend's heart is racing with anticipation. He tries to control his unsteady breathing without much success. "Another idea?" He asks with a glimmer of hope in his eyes. "What is it?"

"I know it's not what you really crave... but I can... you know... jerk you off?"

Did you really just say that?

He begins to unbutton his pants hurriedly. "Very well..." As Alastor's pants fall to his knees, he scratches his fluffy ears, presenting his throbbing member to you. It's a sight to behold; long with a shimmering dew covering the tip. "Do it."

Your mouth is watering as your eyes take in Alastor's cock. The head of it is a deep reddish purple, almost glowing with arousal. His ballsack hangs heavy, clearly filled with seed, so that he can breed for as long as the rutting lasts. Something must've altered in your brain's chemistry, because you take his balls in your hand, gently playing with them. The deer demon lets out a low moan, his hips thrusting forward slightly. The sensation of your hand on his sensitive balls is almost too much for him to bear...

"More..." he manages to whisper between pants.

Encouraged by his reaction, you squeeze his balls softly and Al lets out a throaty groan, his dick twitching almost ready to explode. He's not used to other people touching him.

You're still unsure if that's the right thing to do in the kitchen, where anyone can walk in at any given moment. But he seems to be really into it and the look in his eyes makes it clear to you that you can't just stop now. So that's what he's been struggling with, what's been making him stay locked in his room, until dealing with it on his own wasn't enough.

Alastor's gaze is pleading you and his voice comes out shaky, unfiltered.

"Please... I need more..." He then reaches down and moves your hand on his eager cock. You wrap your fingers around his length, with your thumb resting on his head, tracing it slowly. The sounds he makes and the way his features contort with pleasure makes you start stroking him.

The overlord can't believe what's happening. He has never experienced anything like this and it feels incredible. The more you stroke him, the more he bucks his hips into your hand. "Y- yes... just like that..."

You feel so confident now that he seems to have let go completely, allowing you to do as you please with his body. You know teasing isn't fair, especially in his hormonal state, but you can't help slowing down your hand's movements, playing with the friction you're providing him with. He lets out a frustrated huff of air, his nostrils flaring. "Faster."

"Nope, I told you I don't want anyone finding us out."

"I didn't ask you darling. It was an order."

You stubbornly slow down your hand even more and you know that this is far from enough for him. Alastor needs more speed, more pressure.

"I... Don't... Give a single penny if they'll hear us... J- just... y/n, get me there." His body trembles with need as he speaks to you.

"You... you accepted to help me... and yet you- you refuse to give me what I want." He looks down at your lips with a mix of lust and anger in his bright eyes.

You suppress a mischievous giggle. It's empowering seeing such a strong demon being dependent on you. You can feel the heat radiating from his dick and he makes a desperate little sound when you begin moving your hand up and down his long member again.

You almost feel pitty for him, teasing is fun, but you don't want to disrespect him or humiliate him while he's so vulnerable and not in control. Though that decision has nothing to do with the fact that he could kill you, you actually feel strongly for him and the way both pairs of your ears move in sink as you peak up pace is so... natural for you, like you two belong together in a primal sense.

Alastor feels his muscles tensing up and his black heart is pounding like crazy. "I can't- can't-" He looks mesmerized at your hand jerking him off at a now delicious speed.

You are so turned on and you want to give him all the pleasure you can in the hotel's kitchen. You begin to sink on your knees and you see him gulp. Your friend freezes for a moment, his mind racing with images of pleasure and ecstasy.

"That's new."

"How so Al?"

"I've never had that... but I want to now."

You can't help but smile. He probably never wanted a blow job before and he won't be in the mood for one after the rutting ends.

You're now at the right height so you just go for it, leaning in. Your tongue swirls around his pulsating cockhead and you're surprised from the amount of pre cum he can produce. Alastor's eyes roll back in his head as he lets out a long, low moan. The sensation of your warm breath and wet tongue on him sends shivers down his spine. "Don't stop..."

You lick his slit and he groans deeply, his eyes squeezing shut. "Yeah... Keep doing this... agh~"

You're offering stimulation and he's gritting his teeth at the feeling, but something isn't quite right. You're once again toying with him, denying him the release he so desperately wants.

"I will have you... eventually."

Alastor then takes a big breath, his cock is still hard as steel. "You're a real temptation-" He glares at you, rather hungrily, his nostrils once again flaring.

"Don't try to make me beg."

"But would you now?" Under any other circumstances, you'd never be that bold with him.

Alastor laughs darkly in response to your challenge, causing a cold chill to run down your spine. "You wound me, my dear. I would never beg for anything... especially not when it comes to satisfying this... this unwanted but still unyeilding desire..."

You smile wickedly, your deer ears conveying your feelings as always when they move. In a swift motion, but still cautiously, you push back his foreskin. A low, agonizing moan escapes Alastor's lips as your action exposes his sensitive flesh to the air. Hips jerking forward involuntarily, seeking more contact with your hand...

"You're killing me mon cher~"

"Buckle up Al..." You start stroking him with consistency now.

The radio demon closes his eyes, ragged breaths leaving his open mouth as you're jerking him off. Every fiber of his being is focused on the pleasure. He groans... feeling his elusive climax approaching at last. His monocle almost falls from his nose. "Unh..."

You're now applying some serious pressure on his throbbing dick. With a primal scream, Alastor's entire body tenses up and he begins releasing his seed on your hand.

"Oh goodness..." He keeps groaning and you can see him shuddering as he does so. He continues spurting thick, white fluid onto your hand, seemingly unable to stop himself.

In his eyes there's a mix of lust and gratitude. He licks his lips unconsciously.

"What else can you do to me?"

"W- what? Me?"

The demon chuckles lightly at your question. His eyes trail down your body appreciatively when you stand up. "And why not you? You're here and I need some action these days!"

He grins and you sigh.

"Well, that means it could be anyone... anyone other than me." You don't like how this revelation makes you feel sad and disappointed.

A sly smirk plays at the corners of Alastor's mouth. "I suppose it could, but then again, why settle for anyone when I can have you?"

His voice is husky and you like this tone from him. You and I belong together, dear y/n." He's clearly considering you his mate now.

Your romantic side wins and you cup his face. That seems to sober him up if just for a few minutes. The overlord looks like he's savoring the sensation and a deep sigh escapes him. "I don't deserve this, not with you y/n."

"But I do want to be present through this... I get it."

The glimmer of hope returns to his eyes. "You have to mean it."

"I won't leave you suffering alone Alastor."

He nods as he thinks this over. "In that case... I'll accept your offer."

You smile sweetly. This isn't that bad. He didn't even ask for a deal. You stand on your hooves and give his cheek a little kiss. He beams at you as he takes hold of his signature cane.

"Oh I think I'm going to enjoy this!"

"Haha, so do I... B- but let's make you something to eat before you get all excited again..."

"That's a wonderful idea darling! And I might as well tell you about Susan's new act while you're at it."

Alastor feels a warmth he hadn't in a long time. As you work on preparing food for him, he seems content and somewhat at peace. But then, like clockwork, the desire is going to build up again. Through the week the rutting hits him anew and he becomes extremely short-tempered. He has to change rooms when Charlie starts singing and he's constantly arguing with Husk.

Alastor surprises himself.

During the times he does manage to control his primitive urges, he's actually avoiding you. He has this idea that he would end up hurting you if things ever escalated fully between you two. Could this mean that he actually cares for your wellbeing?

He is an overlord. He is the one and only radio demon, there's no way he has a soft spot for his fellow deer demon... who had relieved him of weeks of pent up tension just with their touch.

You, on the other hand, feel no shame nor guilt for your little encounter with Alastor in the kitchen. If anything, the fact that he's still in his mating season is making you wet, longing for more.

One fateful night, all of you sitting together, you across from Alastor's armchair... and it's impossible to not look down. He has a prominent bulge and you're not even surprised. However, when you look back up, you freeze like a... well, you do freeze like a deer caught in the headlights, because he is staring at you so very intensely.

The air feels thick all of a sudden and his gaze implies many things, to your delight. He excuses himself shortly after, but not before giving you a slight nod. He wants you now. He needs you now.

Experiencing a slight Deja vu, you find yourself knocking on his door the very same night. The Deja vu intensifies at the sound of static coming from the other side of the door. You decide to let yourself in when there's no answer. "Al?"

A pair of big and intricate antlers comes in your vision. The smell of him floods your senses. It's intoxitacing, addictive. You want him too.

Alastor wastes no time.

He pushes you up against the nearest wall, his body pressing tightly against yours. His breath is coming in ragged gasps, his eyes full of lust and desire. The demon growls, baring his teeth in a feral grin.

In one swift motion, he tears your clothes from your body, leaving you naked and vulnerable before him. His eyes roam over your exposed flesh, his lips parted in a wicked grin. With an animalistic growl, he buries his face between your breasts, sucking on your nipples with rough abandon.

You moan and arch your back, the sensation sinfully satisfying. Noticing your response, Alastor's movements become even more frenzied. He reaches down to grip your hips, lifting you up onto the wall.

You then unzip his pants, lost in the haze of your increasing desire for him. Alasor groans when you do that, his hips bucking forward as you free his cock from its confines. It slaps against your lower stomach, rigid and angry.

With another feral growl, Alastor turns you around so that you're facing the wall, while he has a perfect view of your ass and tail.

You gasp as he parts your folds with his thumb, finding your dripping entrance. Maybe he's not that experienced, but right now he seems to be driven by some infallible instinct. His finger doesn't stay in your cunt for long though, since the man is getting desperate to claim you as his, in a much more effective fashion.

You turn you head to the side and lock eyes with him. You shiver, almost scared at the pure hunger on his face. He thrust into you with brutal force, driving his cock inside you deep and hard. His hips start pistoning against your ass, as he takes you without mercy. He's breeding, essentially. It's not meant to be slow or soft.

The gentleman you knew is gone for now, but you're digging your nails in his shoulders and letting out whines and moans nonetheless.

With each thrust, he growls like a beast, claiming his prize. Alastor's eyes are wild and feral, reflecting the primal lust that consumes him. His heavy balls are slapping against your skin. You're turning to jelly slowly but surely, surrendering to him in way that feels natural to you, not forced.

Your old friend grunts in both pain and pleasure, losing himself in the heat of the moment. His fingers dig into your skin, leaving marks on your hips that show his possessiveness of you.

You reach behind you, grabbing his thighs to somehow ground yourself from the onslaught of pleasure in your core. A guttural moan escapes him as you touch his sensitive flesh. His hips buck against yours, driving himself deeper inside you and your eyes roll back in your head.

Alastor continues to pound into you relentlessly, his cock throbbing with each powerful stroke. He's sweating and he starts taking off his clothes in a uncharacteristically clumsy manner.

He can't take it anymore, your tightening walls becoming overwhelming for him to bear. Feeling the pressure building within him, he growls low in his throat and picks up the pace even more.

The new speed he fucks you in has you seeing stars, the knot on your stomach snapping without warning. You cry out his name loud enough for everyone in the hotel to hear, but you simply don't care.

He moans your name as well, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he drives himself deeper into you one last time. His body shudders violently as he reaches the height of his own orgasm. Hot, thick cum is filling you up and there's so much of... It's dripping out of you and onto the carpet.

He finally did it. He's mated. He's bred you.

Spent and panting heavily, Alastor collapses on you, his forehead resting on your shoulder. You can feel his breath and teeth on your skin as you try to catch your breath. His dick is softening inside you, but he doesn't pull out just yet. His primal instinct is still active and making sure you take every last drop of his seed.

After you both relax in the present silence for a bit, he casually lifts you up and places you on the bed, the manhandling having you blushing profusely, but he doesn't seem to notice. He lets out a sound close to purring as he lays down next to you, spooning you.

You sigh, feeling exhausted and content at the same time. You roll over so that you're facing him... and he looks like he's already asleep.

Your heartbeat has turned back to normal and you find shelter in his long and elegant neck as you start dozing off into a peaceful and dreamless slumber.

He's not cold or ignorant the next morning. That morning ends up in him grasping at the air, as if searching for something to hold on to, as your head bobs up and down under the sheets.

It becomes a fact that Alastor's mood improves significantly after having sex with you. Something that does occur a couple more times in the spam of a week or so.

You knew the rutting was coming to an end when his desperate and forceful claiming, usually from behind, became passionate love making.

There was this one night...

Like a true gentleman of his time, Alastor had made love to you with deep, sensual thrusts as your hands had gotten lost in his fluffy hair. You had been underneath him.

Your orgasm had been accompanied by a soundless moan as you'd thrown your head back and he'd nuzzled your neck, breath labored and a frown on his face as he'd come after you. You had let him fall asleep on you that night, both of you panting, sweat covering you.

The only time Alastor isn't smiling is when he is asleep you have come to realize. You can't help but notice how tired he looks as you lay motionless next him. So you gently start caressing his ears and he groans softly, nuzzling deeper into your touch, without even bothering to open his eyes. A small smile forms on his mouth, a real one.

Is this love? Maybe someday.

The End??

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[faith369]

Just imagine calling Price daddy as a joke but it kinda backfires

Pairing: Captain John Price x fem!reader

Warnings: p in v, mdni, nsfw, condescending (slight), daddy kink

Price, who glared your way the second he heard you calling him daddy, shaking his head slightly but writing it off as a one time joke, while trying to ignore the twitching inside his pants. He is however quick to realize that it is not a one time event and has to take a deep breath as you walk around with a grin plastered on your face every time you use his now least favorite nickname. He isnt even that old.

Price, who walks around with a raging boner in his pants while on base, thinking about you moaning the word he dismays so much, while stuffing your pussy.

Price, who gets fed up and bends you over the counter after you use the nickname again. Grinding his clothed bulge against your dripping cunt after he pulled down your pants. His voice sounds gruff behind you.

"Not as confident now, huh? My poor baby can't even talk anymore. Hmm, don't worry, daddy's going to take care of you"

You whine, wanting more friction, and John eagerly gives in, freeing his leaking cock from his jeans ramming it into your tight heat while his hands slip under your shirt, groping your breasts.

"Come on, be good say it again; then I'll help you."

The second he hears the word out of your mouth, he starts pounding into you, drawing moans from you. He ignores any pleas to slow down out of overstimulation and instead lets one of his hands move to your clit, making you clench around him.

Price, who pulls out, not letting you reach your orgasm, leaves your aching cunt empty except for his cum.

"Stop whining, that's what happens when you're a naughty girl"

A/N: Im bacccckkk big sorry for nor writing I was kinda in a slump anyways requests are open and happy to be answered <333

[clementine-thedestroyer]

Price would just bite his wife‘s stretchmarks

Like he’d be eating you out, move a bit to the side and kiss at the area a bit until be bites just hard enough to leave a nice imprint of his teeth. He’d be gentler on the more sensitive areas- like the insides of your thighs and your tummy, but your hips would be completely fair game.

It’s probably something like cuteness aggression for him, honestly.