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gomzreblogs · 2 years ago

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Quiet

John Price x fem!reader

Warning: NSFW, smut with plot, p in v, caught in the act?, talks of pregnancy, alcohol, drunk Price, not edited.

Summary: John Price and you go back to his families home for their annual summer get together.

—————

The room was stifling hot, the slightly ajar window doing little to help. Instead of allowing a cool breeze it was letting in the sounds of crickets and smell of cigarette smoke. Between the humidity and body heat you felt like you were boiling. The red neon numbers on the alarm clock read 3:02 AM. Your cheeks weren’t far from a similar shade. It was late enough in the evening you knew you wouldn’t get caught.

“Shhh, we have to be quiet.”

“I am being quiet.”

Your bare back was firmly pressed into the thin mattress. John’s forearms on either side of your head caging you beneath him. The pair of you were covered in a thin sheen of sweat as your lover moved at a slow pace inside of you.

“F-faster, please.” You were begging at this point, tears pricking the corners of your eyes. Having been going at this painstakingly slow pace the whole time, you felt like you were going mad.

“The beds going to squeak if I do.” John panted out, his beard tickling your kiss swollen lips. Forehead slipping against yours due to the perspiration.

“Please.” You whispered against his cheek.

“Oh, fuck you’re squeezing me like that on purpose.” John couldn’t help the moan that fell from his lips.

You were doing everything in your power to spur him on and get him to ravish you like you both craved. He buried his head next to your ear as he rutted into you more desperately. Slowing down again when the bed began to squeal in protest.

The sounds he was making had your eyes rolling to the back of your head, small grunts and pathetic moans. The wiry brown hair of his chest coarsely rubbing against your breasts. You hooked the heel of your foot against the back of Johns thigh pulling him closer so he’d settle his full weight completely against you. Now having your sweaty bodies flush together his toned lower abdomen was rubbing against your clit with every slow yet powerful thrust.

“John, I’m so close.” Your breath was shaky as you felt that familiar sensation right before a wave of intense pleasure.

“Fuck.” John gave in for both your sakes.

Pushing your right leg up by the underside of your knee he was able to angle himself just right. The new position allowing him to pummel into your g-spot. The precision of each thrust caused your velvety walls to clamp around Johns impressive length. It took four harsh thrust to throw you over the edge. You’re back arching as you gasped harshly. John’s hand covered your mouth in an instant as he pounded into you for the next minute, chasing that amazing feeling of release.

Thank god he had his hand over your mouth or your moans would have rang through the tiny room as your orgasm ripped through you. The metal of the bed squeaking rhythmically as he pistoned in and out of you. You watched John’s face twist into a fucked out expression, jaw going slack as he quickly pulled out. Pumping his thick length a few times, you both watched as he painted your stomach white with thick ropes reaching up to your reddened breasts.

“Holy, fuck.” He whispered, his arm by your head quaking from the prolonged position and pleasure wracking through his body.

“I hate this bed“ you panted out. Both of you smiling like fools as you basked in the afterglow.

The bed wheezed loudly as John fell on his side attempting to catch his breath. Littering small kisses to the back of your hand and wrist, he whispered sweet nothings. You reached over to the night stand grabbing at a tissue box and passing your husband some. Once you were both cleaned and dressed in your night clothes again it didn’t take long for you two to fall asleep in the cramped bed. John snoring loudly while you curled into his side, head resting on his chest.

——————

“Was having a smoke last night and heard a bit of commotion.” Harrison joked slapping John way harder than necessary on the back.

You choked on your coffee sputtering like an idiot at the kitchen table. John could only glare at you for unknowingly admitting what his oldest brother was alluding to. You smiled back sheepishly wiping your mouth with a napkin as Harrison sat down.

“Not sure what you’re getting at.” John was talking to Harrison but his eyes were fixed on you in a stone cold stare. As if to warn you he didn’t find your little display amusing.

“C’mon that bed of yours squeaks so bloody loud.” This time Harrison turned to you with a shit eating grin, raising his eyebrows mischievously.

“What are you looking at me for?” You deflected, taking a sip of your coffee again. Only to accidentally inhale the burning liquid down your wind pipe and go into another bout of coughs. Smooth. Johns hand rubbed down his face a frustrated look painting his features as you tried to catch your breath.

“She’s a horrible liar.” Harrison joked to John who finally cracked, a small smirk dusting his lips.

“Yeah, I’ll give you that one.” John crossed his arms over his chest, head shaking in disbelief.

It was the start of summer and John’s family decided to all get together for the weekend. Normally you two would be hosting at your home but having a one year old had proved more difficult than either of you imagined. So being able to get away even if you were sleeping in John’s childhood bed felt amazing. You two decide to leave Jj at home with your dad which had you in a tailspin. This was the first time you’d be spending a weekend away from your baby boy. John told you he’d be fine but you couldn’t help but worry.

The house John grew up in was an old cottage style with a greenhouse attached to the side. It was cute but hardly had enough room for all four children through their youth. John’s two oldest brother shared a room since they were close in age only two years apart. John and his younger sister Sarah who were a year and a half apart had their own rooms, his being the smallest. You and his brothers like to joke that Harry Potter had a bigger room than him.

Johns room was the only one left out of the four siblings that hadn’t been repurposed. Sarahs old room now a study while the two older boys was a guest room. With John being the youngest boy and the heartbreak his mother felt when he enlisted so young she never had the heart to alter the room.

John’s room was a time capsule. A moment in his life preserved like a museum exhibit. The last time he livid in that room he was 16 just coming home from boot camp. The only other times he stayed in there was when visiting his parents. It was a small rectangular room with faded green walls and white trim. It could only fit a twin sized bed, nightstand, book shelf, and small dresser. Posters of the military hung on the front and back of his closet door. A smattering of football trophy’s neatly organized on top of the packed book shelf shoved in the corner.

Even at 16 John had his room organized meticulously. It was endearing to see that he had always been a neat freak even back when he slept under the plaid comforter. The only thing that seemed out of place was the worn teddy bear on the windowsill. Its arm had been stitched back on and it was missing an ear. The black button eyes were chipped and scratched from being dragged around everywhere John went until he was 5. Your favorite picture from John’s childhood was of him hugging that teddy bear tightly while sitting on a picnic blanket, remnants of his sandwich still on his rosy cheeks.

John’s oldest brother was able to come the same day as you and John, snagging the guest room before you two could. It did frustrate you and John but it wasn’t worth getting into. Harrison had one child who lived full time with his ex-wife and ever since their divorce John treated him with kid gloves. This was annoying to you since they were on good terms and excellent co-parents. Amy still came to these events and if you didn’t know them you’d never guess they were divorced. That had a lot to do with Harrisons personality and the fact he was still madly in love with her. He was goofy, loud, funny, and the life of every party. The complete opposite from your stoic husband. Although they did look eerily similar the five year age gap not visible due to the grueling effects of John’s job on his features.

Sarah, the youngest would be arriving sometime that day with her husband so you knew there’d be a fight about getting the guest room for them. Harrison could sleep on the pull out in the study. Which no one wanted since their dad would be in there as soon as the sun rose. John’s other brother didn’t show up for as many events as the family wanted him to but it wasn’t out of rudeness. He had four children with his wife and their wasn’t enough room for the family of six to stay the night. So they usually packed into their car day of and showed up with a ton of pastries since they owned a bakery.

The rest of John’s aunts, uncles, and family friends would be in attendance. This left you and John’s mom to set everything up and cook. She didn’t allow the boys to help but ordered them to go catch up and relax with their father. She babied her sons but was the worst with John which you knew he found annoying. It was one of the reasons why he joined the military so young. He needed the freedom and ability to have some control over his life. He also hated being babied it felt emasculating. That’s why he loved you so much. You did sweet things for him but never treated him like a child. It was due to your independent nature which he matched.

————-

The summer heat had dissipated as the the day carried into night. Now the party was coming to a close, guests gone leaving only immediate family in the Price family home. Your husband was a lot drunker than he intended to get. His brothers were the usual culprits having taken god knows how many shots together. Along with the beers they had been cracking open since the grill was lit. You loved getting to see John take off his work and husband hat and be a brother. Still stoic and serious but allowing his two older brother to tease him relentlessly. Saluting him and calling him sergeant instead of his actual title of Captain.

Johns mom thought it was good fun for the boys to fool around and pull your husband from his shell. She did send glares in your and Sarah’s direction when you two poured your second glass of wine. Clearly having different expectation for you two as married women. Sarah couldn’t be bothered but you tended to shrink a bit around John’s mom. She was definitely where John got the grumpiness and stern attitude from.

After the the boys were finished passing the football around with their nieces and nephews John had settled next to you by the fire. Sarah and Harrison were arguing over the guest room, inside. While John’s other brother was passed out on the living room couch, his wife fuming as she loaded the kids into the car.

You were curled up on the metal bench, tucked under John’s large arm. His other hand was gently running up and down your forearm. He had been quiet allowing you to rest after the long day of cooking, cleaning and helping his mother host. It felt good to have him taking care of you now. Having made you eat since you were so busy your forgot to and getting you your drinks.

You were always willing to help and didn’t usually get to enjoy yourself at events like this until the guests were gone. Knowing his mom wasn’t your biggest fan only instigated you to try and impress her at every turn. It wasn’t a you thing, she wasn’t a fan of any of the women her sons dated or married. Her views on you continuing to work instead of being a housewife was the biggest hurdle in your relationship. You called it old fashioned and John agreed, coming to your defense whenever the subject was brought up. She also had been pressuring you specifically to get a move on and have more kids. Stating you weren’t getting any younger which was true but she didn’t need to remind you. The thought had already been on your mind for awhile now.

“You think Jj will be fine without siblings?” You asked breaking the silence, eyes fixed on the dancing flames in front of you.

“I’m not sure.” John’s attention turned to you. His arm tightening around your shoulder as he held you closer.

“Me either.” You confessed.

“Why? You want to have more?” John perked up at the idea. His eyes sparkling bright in the light of the fire pit, the smile on his face showing his pearly whites. He acted quite giddy when drunk. It was cute to you considering he was so serious most of the time. His military persona filling out most of his personality.

“Seeing you and your siblings makes me want to. I’m scared he’ll be lonely.” You turned your gaze up to meet your husbands stormy eyes.

“We’ve talked about it for awhile now. Two seems like a good number.” John called back to early discussion of how many children you had considered. He wanted three but you weren’t sure if you were willing to go through another lonely pregnancy.

“Yeah, and Jj’s already thirteen months. I don’t think they should be too far apart in age.” You shared your thoughts allowed taking a large swig of the whiskey John had gotten you so his mom didn’t make any snarky comments.

“We could go inside and get started.”John’s lips were ghosting your ear as he flirted shamelessly. His hand snaking up from your forearm to squeeze your breast firmly. You batted him away laughing the whole time. Checking over your shoulder to make sure no one saw.

“Wow, you really are drunk.” You pressed forward when you saw the coast was clear, kissing him hard. It was unintentional but you melted into the kiss. John’s large hand cupping the back of your neck to keep you close. He tasted of whiskey and burnt tobacco, as his tongue swiped against your lip asking for entrance. You pulled away, blushing at the knowledge any of his family members could witness you two behaving like horny teenagers.

“Don’t act like you’re not getting tipsy too.” John grinned, guiding your hand back to your mouth so you could finish the whiskey in one go.

“Swallow.” His gravely voice dropping an octave as he instructed you. Your face scrunched at the acrid taste but you couldn’t help the building heat as you pressed your thighs together. You opened your mouth and seductively stuck out your tongue to show the contents were gone.

“That’s my girls.” John practically growled. His free hand high on your thigh, rubbing the sensitive flesh.

“Harrison caught us last night so we’ll have to wait for us to get home.” Your breath was a bit shaky as John’s blue eyes undressed you. He looked like he was ready to pounce on you and show you how bad he wanted to knock you up.

“If you hadn’t worn that sundress yesterday nothing would’ve happened.” He pinched your bum as a playful reprimand only making you eager for him. You knew it was best not to continue down this path. Last night was pushing it enough no way were you two going to get away for a second time shagging in his childhood room with a bed that squeaky.

“Then you shouldn’t be so riled up. I’m only in jeans today.” You teased. Extending your legs to prove your point.

“And your ass looks amazing in them.” You had to halt John’s movement as his hand began to wander again. He was drunk and making a poor decision of being handsy when any of his family members could walk outside to join you two.

“There’s no way we can get away with it John. That beds way to loud.” You stated matter of factly.

“Okay, I’ll bend you over the dresser.” John wasn’t joking he really did have the intention to bend you over and fuck your from behind as quietly as possible.

“John.” You warned with a giggle. Pushing him away as he tried to kiss you again.

“If we want another it’s best to get a move on.” The flirting wasn’t stopping. An air of desperation coming from your husband as he tried to seduce you. John loved being naughty and taking you in places you two probably shouldn’t. You couldn’t deny you loved the thrill of it.

“It could take a couple of tries.” You flirted biting your bottom lip. The alcohol having you go against your better judgment.

“Is that a challenge?” His eyes darkened at the thought of pumping you full of him more than once tonight.

“What are you two love birds talking about?” Harrison’s voice sounded from behind you, making you jump out of your skin. You were praying he was just being cheeky and didn’t actually over hear you two. John wasn’t phased by his brother presence, only tightened his hold on you with his arm around your shoulder.

“Oh, nothing.” You turned quickly to see Harrison exit the back door onto the patio.

“You sure? Looks like someone’s a bit cross with you.” He was pointing at John. Voice coming off with a bit of concern. You internally sighed in relief. Happy for John’s naturally stern face.

“I’m not cross with Y/N.” John said defensively, almost as if he was offended by the notion.

“Better not be. The whole house is already picked up and clean cuz of her. It’s let mum go to bed early for once. Thanks, again.” Harrison smiled sweetly at you. His eyes snapping to the back door as his ex-wife came out.

“Why don’t we head to bed. Give you two some time to chat.” You leaned forward as you whispered to John’s oldest brother. He nodded eagerly and thanked you again, his eyes slightly glazed over form the alcohol. You and John said your good nights and shuffled back to his bedroom.

The house was quiet and the lights off as people settled in for the night. Hushing and giggling as John kept grabbing at your ass and whispering the things he wanted to do to you as you made your way into his room. Shutting and locking the door behind you. John’s hands were on your hips quickly, turning you around and crashing his lips into yours. The kiss was sloppy and dirty as your tongues danced together. A breath of air forced itself out of your lungs as you were shoved against the closet door. This gave John the opportunity to start kissing along your neck as he fumbled with the buttons of your blouse, shoving the fabric off you lightning fast. His hands were moving down to your jeans as he buried his face between your breasts. Bitting your nipple through the fabric of your bra. His coarse beard scratching the sensitive skin of your chest.

Your hands had been at work on his belt, now tugging his jeans and boxers down just below his hips. John happily kicked them off, stepping back and tearing his shirt off over his head leaving him stark naked. He stumbled slightly in his drunk state making you bite back a laugh. The alcohol making you giddy and daring as well. Your eyes fell to his cock standing at full attention, it twitched under your gaze. It was impossible to help the way your mouth watered. Reaching out you grasped his thick length and pumped lazily as John finished undressing you.

You were ungracefully moved and bent over the dresser soon after. Accidentally knocking a smattering of products onto the floor from John’s careless man handling of you. Both your deodorant and lotion clattering to the floor loudly.

“Careful.” John reprimanded from over your shoulder as he towered above you from behind. You were about to snap that it was his fault when pressure was applied to your clit. The hot head of John’s heavy cock spreading your wetness around. He was lined up to your entrance now. The head of his cock prying you open as he slid into you in one push. You placed your forearms on the old wood holding your sounds of pleasure in. John’s hips moved at a shallow slow pace as he let you adjusted to his thickness. The burn feeling sinfully perfect.

The pair of you froze when you heard a door open, the hinges squealing loudly. You held your breath as the floor boards creaked, the foot steps getting closer until they were outside the bedroom. A knock sounded against the old wooden door of John’s childhood room.

“Everything okay in their Johnny?” It was John’s mothers voice, making you visibly cringe. Turning to look over your shoulder you could see he was lost for words. Too drunk and embarrassed to come up with an excuse, being balls deep in you. It was so unlike him.

“Yeah, Mary. John’s just a bit drunk. Sorry for waking you, I’m getting him into bed.” You spoke in an even tone. Surprised with yourself at sounding completely normal.

“I had a feeling. Take good care of him, Y/N.” She spoke sweetly through the door. Saying a final goodnight clearly fooled by your lie. Floorboards creaking as she made her way back down the hall, the door shut behind her. You and John sighed heavily a wave of relief washing over you both.

“No more noise.” You whispered sharply over your shoulder.

“Yeah, just put your leg like this.” John’s attention was back on the task at hand as he brought your right leg up and rested it on the cool wood of the dresser. You were balanced on one foot now, John’s strong arms keeping you steady. You knew he was opting for this position so he could go a bit quicker without the threat of the sound of skin slapping echoing in the tiny room.

“How are you still so tight after last night?” John asked.

You were about to answer when his hips moved sharply up into you. It took all of you not to make a peep at John’s quick unrelenting pace. Your eyes were screwed shut as you focused on staying quiet, impressed that your husband was able to keep the lewd action undetectable as he railed into you from behind. Stopping short with each thrust making sure his hips never connected with your ass. You two stayed like that for a solid 15 minutes, John’s pace never faltering. It always impressed you how high John’s stamina was and his willingness to please you. His hands wandering the whole time. Tweaking your nipple, biting into your shoulder, his thumb applying light pressure to your asshole as he whispered the dirties things you’d ever heard. it had you clamping around him, head dizzy with lust. The sight of your cunt swallowing him whole over and over again was doing him in. God, he wanted to hear you moan his name and beg for him to make you cum and put a baby in you, but you couldn’t. The danger of getting caught weighing heavy.

“I’m, close. Play with that pretty clit of yours for me.” John’s mouth was by your ear a high pitched almost silent moan passing through your lips. The scent of whiskey filled your senses as your focused on yourself. Your fingers moving from the dresser down to your aching clit. Applying the perfect pressure you needed to get you there. You felt John’s hips stutter a frustrated exhale leaving through his nose as he focused on delaying his orgasm.

“I need something more.” You confessed rubbing at yourself vigorously to no avail.

You were right on the edge, you just needed a final shove to get there. An involuntary gasp left your lips as your felt your feet leave the ground. John’s arms were wrapped under both your knees as he hoisted you into the air. Spreading your legs wide for you to watch John split you open through the dressers mirror. Your arms flew behind you as one held onto his shoulder for dear life and the other laced into his hair, tugging harshly. John’s hips were thrusting at an impressively quick pace while staying silent. His strong arms lifting you up and down on his cock as he fucked into. Using your pliable body like a doll. You could see John’s smug smile through the mirror as his eyes were fixed on your cunt swallowing him over and over. The sudden change in position and the feeling of being weightless had your orgasm crashing over you. You inhaled deeply through your nose keeping all the noises trapped in your throat as you pulsed around John. Tugging at his short brown locks as a way to indicate you were cumming.

“That’s my girl.” John panted into your ear. His hips stuttered and arms quaked as he came with one final thrust. You could feel the force of his spend filling you to the brim. He continued to move you up and down lazily until his softening length slid out of you. You were spread wide allowing his cum to leak out of you and onto the hardwood floor. It took him a few seconds and deep exhales before he was placing you back on your feet, knees weak from fatigue. His hands never left your body, he needed you flush against him as he hugged you to his chest. whispering how much he loved you and couldn’t wait for you to be pregnant again. Your back pressed into him, his chest hair tickling the sensitive skin along your shoulders.

“Think it took?.” You whispered up at John as you turned in his arms. Wrapping your arms around his neck and kissing him with a dumb grin.

“If it didn’t I don’t mind trying again.” He chuckled. Leading you backwards to the twin sized bed only for you to place your hand on his chest stopping him.

“I’m going to shower.” You giggled getting a knowing smile from your rosy cheeked husband.

“Good idea. I’m gonna lay down after I clean up the mess on the floor.” John was still catching his breath. The pair of you smiling like fools and holding back laughter at your boldness to do the deed here of all places.

—————-

“It’s completely disrespectful!” Johns mom was shrill as you walked into the kitchen.

John was right behind you chatting about how he was excited to get to work with someone named Soap again and how he thought Laswell would take to him. The sound of his mother yelling had him turning on his heels lightening fast. You were quicker than him grabbing him by the elbow keeping him from fleeing the room and leaving you to get yelled at. Your heart was thumping loudly in your ears as you prepared to be humiliated. You two were drunk idiots last night for doing what you’d done.

“Y/N, did you know Amy was staying last night?” John’s mom whipped around to you. Blue eyes filled with rage.

“Amy stayed?” You asked confused. You were totally prepared to get your ear bent for what you and John did not hear about Harrison’s ex wife.

“Yes, Harrison thought it was appropriate to have a women he’s not married to stay the night with him in the study!” You and John visibly sighed in relief catching John’s oldest brothers attention.

“I was married to her not that long ago.” Harrison reminded. He was sitting at the kitchen table arms crossed over his chest. He was pouting and clearly embarrassed about his mother openly scolding him.

“You know mums rules.” John added with mock seriousness. The look Harrison shot him had your blood pressure spike. He could totally rat you two out for the first night you were here. You swatted at John’s arm to stop.

“Johnnys right. You know my rules and still thought it was okay to disrespect this house.” The ranting was far from over as she continued to berate Harrison. It was a few minutes before Mary stopped to catch her breath giving Harrison the first chance to interject. You tried to leave the room but John blocked the doorway clearly amused by his brother getting in trouble.

“She just slept here nothing happened!” He half shouted

“Harrison.” John raised an eyebrow, looking from his mother to his brother and extending his hand as if to tell her to continue. You glared up at him for egging his mom on.

“Don’t raise your voice at me, Harrison. You’re a horrible liar.” John’s mom threw her hands in the air a mean scowl pointed at him. She sighed deeply and turned to you and John her gaze softening.

“Good morning, love.” Her voice turned sweeter than sugar as she gave John a hug and kiss on the cheek. Uncharacteristically she did the same for you.

“Thank you for taking care of him last night, darling. Go sit I’ve got breakfast handled this morning.” She shooed you away and turned her back to her oldest son, not before shooting him a dirty look. Going back to preparing breakfast and setting two cups of tea on the table for you and your husband.

You could tell Harrison wanted to kill John. If it was back in their youth he would’ve chased John around the grounds and wailed on him. Nowadays none of John’s brothers stood a chance against him. You sat down at the table with wide eyes avoiding John’s oldest brothers gaze. John continued to make small comments apologizing to his mom that she had to start her day so upset. You kicked him under the table to get him to stop.

“You know what these two were up to first night here?“ Harrison was seething as he stared daggers at his little brother.

“Don’t you dare start making up nonsense to get Johnny in trouble.” Mary waved her spatula in his direction threateningly. This sent her on another rant about Harrison’s poor choices.

“I’m so sorry.” You whispered to Harrison who was glaring at his brother across the kitchen table. John had the biggest grin across his bearded face as he silently laughed at his brothers misfortune.

#really good fic #captain john price

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gomzreblogs · 2 years ago

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What Happens in the Safehouse...

LT John Price x Nikolai x afab/F!Reader

Rating: 18+/Explicit Words: 6.3k Tags: Canon-typical Violence, Top!Nikolai, Switch!Price, Bottom!Reader, John and Nik kiss/touch each other, face-fucking, anal fingering (m&f receiving), face-sitting, PIV sex, Anal sex (f receiving), double penetration, creampie. Summary: You are snowed in with Lieutenant John Price and Nikolai after an intense mission. You were warned you can't completely trust these men. But, in the middle of the night, they all realize how long it's been since any of them have been so close to someone.

(A/N: Russian is spelled phonetically and translations are given with context clues. Milaya/милая is a Russian pet-name meaning Sweetheart or darling. For simplicity’s sake, Reader is a member of US special forces. I tried to not specify a country, but things were getting very wordy. I’m sorry if I made you American against your will. It only matters for the set-up and nothing else. Also, Nikolai isn’t actually his name in this part of the timeline, but in the reboot we don’t know his name or what rank he was when he was recruited to MI6. So I’m calling him Nikolai. I know most people won’t care or don't know about his backstory, but I needed to defend myself. Just let me have this, ok?)

Read on Ao3 or Keep Reading | Blues’ Masterlist | COD x Reader Masterlist

No one trusted anyone, but the consequences of failure would be devastating. Unauthorized missiles found their way into the United Republic of Adal and needed to be taken care of. How they got there is a mess that no one wants to admit blame.

That means people need to get dirty to clean up this mess.

When you need something done quietly the three countries involved know who to send. Lieutenant John Price of the SAS, Nikolai of the Federal Security Service, and you: the one of best US Special Forces have to offer.

Tensions were high, you were told to stay vigilant and observe your squad. You imagine they were told the same. If the wrong information got out, the country left holding the bag would be an international disgrace.

The mission was hell. Being on the lookout for a knife in your back wasn’t helping either. Guard rotations were too quick and the farther you got into the warehouse the harder it was to stay silent.You heard a bullet whiz past your head and your blood went cold. When you looked for where it came from you saw Price looking down the sight of his rifle. He didn’t say anything, he just nodded in the direction he shot. When you turned your head and saw a guard just about to turn the corner laid dead on the floor. He covered you.

When the charges were planted there was no need for subtleties. All hell broke loose and everyone needed everyone to make it out alive. You covered Nikolai when he got caught reloading. Price threw a knife right into the eye of a guard trying to grab you. Nikolai took a bullet to the plate for Price. The adversarial relationship between your countries meant nothing in a fight of life or death. The only way anyone got out of that hell was because of each other.

Already tired and beat to hell, it started to snow. Everyone hurried their tired bodies to find somewhere safe to stay to wait out the storm. The squad found an abandoned house a few klicks away. It wasn’t a safehouse, but it was a decent shelter.

“Echo-2, this is Kilo-4, we need evac,” you say into the radio. “Sigint-6 and Bravo-6 are with me safe and sound, but snowed in.”

“Kilo-4, this is Echo-2,” a voice answers, “We’ve got your location, but that area was already too hot and now the snow storm is coming in. We have to wait at least 12 hours for evac. Probably closer to 18. You can make shelter or make your way to the secondary evac site.”

You look at John and Nik, they look almost as exhausted as you feel.

“Rest please,” answers Nik.

“Copy that,” says John.

“Echo-2,” you speak into the radio, “we’ll buckle down here and get some rest. We’ll check-in a few hours.”

“Roger that, Kilo-4. Over and out.”

The three of you sigh as the adrenaline fades and exhaustion sets in.

There is a new tension in the air. It’s not the fear of betrayal, something much more complicated: trust. Trust is tricky in this line of work, you need it to get anything done but it can get you killed. Right now it’s all you have. Everyone in this room owes each other their lives. It’s quiet as you bandage each other up. Clothes are tossed aside to access injuries from this mess of a mission. When the IFAKS are put away you realize that everyone is stripped down to basically their underwear.

As the terror of your many near death experiences fades, you realize it’s been months since you’ve gotten laid.

You end that train of thought immediately. You can’t help but look at your two squadmates. Everyone took turns freshening up in the bathroom. The shower worked, but barely. Thank god for small miracles. It was still enough to get clean and swap into clean fatigues.

“Bad news, everyone,” announces Nik, “no beds. We have to make our own sleeping arrangements.”

“Ugh,” you groan.

“We’ll use our packs as pillows and figure out something to sleep on,” orders John.

“Can we pile up some couch cushions?” You ask. 20 minutes later you had a somewhat functional bed. It wasn’t really a bed, more like a pile. Every cushion in the building was pushed into a corner into a lumpy mass. It wasn’t perfect, but it was better than tweaking your neck by sleeping on the floor.

Using remaining claymores and proximity mines, the squad secured a pretty good perimeter. Now the exhaustion was really weighing you down. You fall to your knees on the soft pile.

“Someone should take watch,” says Nik. No one offers and the silence weighs heavily.

“Bunch of model soldiers, we are,” remarks John.

“If someone gets past that perimeter then they earned the right to kill me,” you joke before laying down.

"I'm with the filthy American," says Nik. You sink into the shitty cushions.

"Filthy? Me?" You sound incredulous. "There's a dirty Brit right there!" John lets out a short laugh before clearing his throat. Everyone lays down, with plenty of space between them, and settles into a relatively comfortable position. The exhaustion truly settles in as everyone settles in their own space with a respectable distance between them.

As the night goes on that distance shrinks. Whenever someone stirs the others let out a grunt or even a moan. The temperature dropped significantly overnight and everyone is huddled together on this mess of fabric. You can't remember the last time you woke up in someone's arms. You enjoy the moment as you settle in against them. You let out a content sigh.

"Enjoying yourself, lieutenant?" John asks. You jump, his mouth inches from your ear.

Before you respond, Nik cuts in, "I could ask the same of you, Price. She's not the only one making friends." Nik shifts behind John, and it causes the other man to grunt.

"Sorry, mate," groans John. "Been awhile." You shift a bit and realize that he's hard and it’s pressing against your back.

"Since you've been sandwiched between two attractive soldiers?" You joke.

"Since I've been this close to anyone." John's words hits you like a truck. Your response slips out before you can stop it.

"Me t—"

"Me too," says Nik.

Turns out you're not the only spec-ops agent with an abysmal intimate life. Right here, right now you're with two men that understand you more than most. Men who are supposed to be wary allies, not to be completely trusted. But right now you feel like you need this.

Were you really going to do this? Your head feels light while your heart feels heavy. These two were soldiers you were ordered to only trust as far as you can throw them. They were probably given the same order.You also saved each other's lives more than you can count. Right now that feels more significant than grand global relations.

You push your body back against John's and he grinds his pelvis against you. Nik must have joined in too, because soon the three of you are a writhing mess of grunts and moans. You turn yourself around to get more, and you're met with the sight of John with his head turned so he can make out with the man behind him.

It takes your breath away, seeing two men getting lost in each other.

"Enjoying the show, love?" John asks after pulling his mouth away just barely. You take a moment to register that he’s talking to you. It’s been an embarrassingly long time since you’ve witnessed or been a part of something intimate at all.

"You're both so beautiful," is all you can stutter out.

"I know I am," replies Nik with a grin. "Him? Eh, not so much." You giggle, this is utterly absurd and it's making you feel foolish.

"Don't bloody encourage him," grunts John.

You reply, "All I'm going to do is encourage you two."

"Milaya—darling,” says Nik, “don't bite off more than you can chew." You lean forward and speak softly.

“I’m a big girl. I know what I can handle.” Before Nik can reply, you cut him off with a kiss over John’s shoulder. For several minutes the three of you are a messy pile of grasping hands and needy mouths. Each of you are supposed to be model soldiers, yet you are all committing disreputable actions.

All because everyone is just a little touchstarved.

You’re making out with John, your nails lightly scratching his shoulders makes him practically purr against your lips. Nikolai gropes and grabs your breasts. You moan against John’s mouth when Nik starts to suck your nipple over your clothes. One rough pinch makes you pull away to cry out.

John’s eyes dart between the two of you. Everyone’s faces are bright pink and all of you are breathing heavily. Not from exertion, but sheer excitement. That is the instant you realize you’re in too deep. There’s no going back.

“We’re all wearing too many bloody clothes,” states John. You and Nik pull away and quickly rip off your clothes. When you shift you feel just how wet your underwear got from some heavy petting. When you look at the men you see dark, wet spots where their cocks have been straining against their boxer briefs.

They are beautiful, you think. It makes your imagination run wild.

“Fucking hell,” you blurt out. John coughs and Nik laughs.

“That’s normally my line, love,” replies John. Nik opens his mouth for some kind of witty reply, but you want to know what he’s like a little less composed. So you close the gap and cut him off with a kiss. Slow and a bit cautious, testing the waters a bit more than before. Nik’s kisses are exploratory. Small tests to see your reaction, slight bites or adding a bit more tongue. When you respond early with a sigh he starts to get bold.

“Playing favorites, I see.” Price’s voice cuts through the fog in your mind. It’s been

“Oh lieutenant,” says Nik. “Let me make you feel more welcome.” He pulls the other man closer into a searing kiss. It’s much hungrier than the kiss you just shared. You’re not sure if that is because of John being a bit more desperate.

Not content being a bystander, you walk up beside them, wrap your arms around them and squeeze their asses with each hand. John sucks in a breath. Nik smiles wide.

“Easy, love,” warns Price.

“She’s bold,” says Nik. “I like it.”

“We should discuss rules,” you urge. “Before things get out of hand.”

“Already a bit out of hand, innit?” John replies. You squeeze his ass a bit harder. “I’m quite alright with most things. If both of you want a piece you can take it.”

“Same goes for me,” you say. “Even at the same time. Not my first rodeo.” John arches a curious eyebrow. Then you cough out, “I’m also on birth control.”

“Do you want to put it to the test?” Asks John with a smile. You nod in agreement. Might as well get your money’s worth.

“Words, Milaya,” Nik orders.

“Yeah,” you answer. “You can cum in me.”

“I like to be in control,” says Nikolai. “I reward obedience and, uh, punish foolishness. Will that work?”

“Yes sir,” you reflexively sigh. Relieved that someone is willing to take charge.

“Khoroshaya devochka,” Nik replies with a low, eager voice. Hearing him call you a ‘good girl’ in Russian sends a shiver down your spine. “The safeword is ‘apple.’ Does that work with both of you?” You and John agree. When Nik and John step out and toss their underwear to the side you realize that you might actually be in over your head. You might not survive the night.

********

Nikolai is good, maybe too good. He can read you and John like a book. You were ordered on your knees in front of John’s aching cock. Nik told you to tease the poor Brit while he looked for something. John was told he wasn’t allowed to touch you. His hands are floating beside your head. He clenches his fists in an effort to follow orders. You were actually a bit surprised seeing just how eagerly he enjoys following orders.

“Just like that, love,” he gasps. You run your tongue along the underside of his cock. “Fuckin’ hell.” Nikolai enters the room looking victorious with a bottle in his hand. “Mineral Oil,” he announces. He sets it down near John before kneeling by your side with John’s cock in your mouth.

“Can she take all of you?”

“Not quite,” admits John.

“Let's fix that,” muses Nik. “Would you like a lesson?” You lift your head off of John’s cock just enough to speak.

“Yes, sir.” Strings of spit fall from your lips. Nik takes one of your hands and places it on his thigh.

“Tap twice if it’s too much,” he asserts.

“Understood, sir,” you reply before tapping his leg.

“Open up, Milaya,” he orders. Nikolai holds the back of your skull and guides your mouth to John’s cock. He doesn’t force anything at first, only gently guiding you forward. “Look up at him.” Without hesitation you do. John’s eyes are beaming down on you, his cheeks flushed, and chest beginning to heave. Then his cock meets the resistance of your throat. Nikolai stops pushing, but he doesn’t let you back out.

“Breathe,” he orders. You force yourself to breathe through your nose. “Good, good. Now swallow.” You attempt to relax your throat, slowly swallow.

You can’t do it. You wince as you struggle with a cough. Nikolai doesn’t budge, holding you steady for one beat, two beats, and nearly a third before you lift your hand to tap his thigh. Immediately, he pulls you back and lets you breathe. Spittle flings off your lips with every breath.

"Again," Nik orders. You open your mouth on command. Slow and steady your head is pushed forward. Every attempt leaves John gasping and desperate. He still isn't allowed to touch you and you've taken to scratching your nails down the back of his thighs for leverage.

A guttural moan rips from his throat when your nose finally presses against his pelvis. You look up, feeling victorious. You finally did it. When Nik lets go, you hold yourself steady trying to keep his cock down your throat.

“You can touch her now, Price,” Nik says. John immediately reaches up and clutches the sides of your head. He doesn’t thrust or really move, his eyes are shut tight as he attempts to ground himself. He pulls back and allows you to take deep breaths. He savors the ounce of control Nikolai has granted him.

John gently fucks your mouth, keep his cock deep but hardly thrusting. You hear Nik doing something behind John, but you can only focus on the man in front of you and keep your head steady.

John tenses and bumps his dick right on your gag reflex. You pull yourself away and cough in a very undignified manner. You try to remain composed, but you cough up spittle and try to wipe tears from the corner of your eyes.

“Bit of a warning next time, mate!” John scolds. Nikolai stands behind him with a curious hand between John’s legs.

“Ah,” replies Nik, “so you want there to be a next time?” He’s more devious knowing that these two soldiers are putty in his hands. The man seems to get off on control. You wonder what it would be like if you had more time, the heights he would tease out of you. How controlling would he be on his own turf? “Relax, Lieutenant.”

John shuts his eyes tight and a shaky moan escapes his lips. Then you hear the wet noises and realize what exactly Nik is doing to the man.

“Go slow, mate,” John asks with a slightly trembling voice. “I said it’s been awhile.”

“Relax,” replies Nik. “I’ll take care of you.” He looks down at you over John’s shoulder and nods. “She’ll take care of you too, right?”

Without another word, you sit up straight and stick out your tongue. John holds the back of your head still before slowly thrusting forward back in your mouth. He seems a bit distracted by Nik’s work, so you take over and begin to bob your head. When John cracks an eye open you moan around his dick just to see his reaction.

“Adding another,” announces Nik. John’s wines are almost whorish. Eyes are shut tight as if that would help prevent overstimulation. He lets go of your head and clenches his fists at his sides. His nails dig into the palm of his hands in order to maintain some composure.

“Another,” Nik’s voice is lower and almost possessive. It seems he is also succumbing to the intensity of this moment.

John's breathing is becoming more labored. One hand is back in your hair to help anchor himself.

“Fuck, mate!” Cries John. “Oh fuck. Fucking hell, that’s it!” John warns. His grip on your hair tightens.

“Don’t swallow, Milaya," Nik orders. “Come on Price, cum for me. Cum for her.”

You feel the first spurt of cum hit the back of your throat. Then he pulls out enough for his cum to splash against your tongue and coat the inside of your mouth. When he can finally take a breath, he opens his eyes. He looks down at you and marvels at the sight.

“Fucking hell, love,” he mumbles.

John sits down and you’re still on your knees, with your mouth wide open. You try to breathe through your nose. Once or twice you struggle and cough up a bit of cum. You almost wipe your mouth, but you know better. You were ordered to stay still and you were nervous that Nik would punish you for even lifting your hands off your thighs.

Nik comes back into the room, shaking his hands dry. He cleaned himself up for round two. You feel your heart flutter in excitement. He looks so amused looking down at you still following his orders.

“Prekrasnyy,” mumbles Nik. “Absolutely beautiful. Right, Price?” He wipes his thumb across your chin, smearing the dripping cum. John nods in agreement, he still hasn’t recovered. Then Nik lifts your chin until your mouth is closed. “Swallow,” he orders. You follow his command like a good soldier.

Nikolai stands up and moves over to the pile of pillows. When he lays down, he beckons you over.

“You’ve been a very good girl. Take your reward.” He points to his face. You stand over him, your face facing his. “Just remember to not go overboard. We won’t be done with you anytime soon.”

“Yes, sir.”

You lower yourself down on Nikolai’s face. Immediately, he begins to lap you up like a starved man. You cry out instantly, you were so worked up only by sucking dick. With heavy lidded eyes you look at John sitting nearby with his half-hard cock in his hands. He stares at you like you’re prey.

You are in trouble, but with each swipe of Nik’s tongue you stop caring. If this is it, then it’s quite a way to go. It’s all so much, every gasp makes your throat ache. When you look down you see Nik’s head and when you look up you see John’s hungry gaze.

It’s been so long since you’ve been laid, period. All of this? Is driving you wild in a record amount of time. This might ruin you. You stop caring immediately when Nik lifts a hand up your thighs to your ass and squeezes. You buck against his face harder.

Your face burns bright when you look at John lazily touching himself. When you try to look away you see Nik buried between your thighs. In hindsight, you can blame your lack of action in almost a year or that you haven’t had a chance to touch yourself in almost a month.

That's why you're on the brink of cumming at an embarrassing speed. It's definitely not because Nikolai is exceptional at giving head. Not at all because of John’s searing gaze.

"That's it, love," John urges. Nikolai mumbles something between your thighs. Your skin feels like it’s on fire. Everywhere Nik holds onto you is searing, nearly threatening to burn.

Your stomach drops and your grinding becomes hurried and shallow, desperate for rapid contact with Nik’s mouth. If you were more sane you’d care about suffocating the poor man. But, from the sounds of his muffled affirmations he doesn’t think of himself in a bad position.

Nik tightens his hold on your thigh, holding you steady against his face. The other hand creeps up between your ass. Or, you thought that was his other hand under both of Nik’s arms wrapped around each of your thighs, holding you against him. Then you hear John kneeling beside you.

“You want more?” He asks.

“Yes, please,” you answer.

“Then take it all for us.” John presses a finger against your asshole. You jump, but Nik holds you still. You know he’s saying something between your thighs, but it’s hard to make out Russian when it’s so disjointed and muffled.

When John’s finger breaches inside your back arches as you clench up. Feeling your apprehension, Nik swipes his tongue up to your clit. Your body shudders as a shaky moan stumbles out of your lips. After the initial apprehension, your body relaxes enough for more of John’s finger.

"That's right," mumbles John, "open up for us, love." Slowly, he pulls out his finger just enough to pour more oil on it. With impeccable teamwork John and Nik unwind you. When your apprehension is sensed, Nik licks or sucks a sensitive part to distract you from the dull pain of being stretched.

Your first orgasm was ripped from you. This time it’s slow, over time John adds a finger and then another with steady timing. Nik seems to be losing patience as he starts to work you up with more intention. You’re being battered from both sides. One steady with a pulsing rhythm; the other more persistent and inconsistent.

Instead of being distracting, the two men are working in tandem with opposite approaches. Your body seizes when you feel your body creeping up to the tipping point. Nik nods his head and hums approval. John groans into your ear as he seemingly involuntarily grinds his cock against your leg.

“That’s it, love,” whispers John. “Take it

While you were sitting on his face you almost forgot how smug Nikolai could be. You are never going to forget the triumphant look on his face as he attempts to wipe his mouth and jaw clean.

“Not so fast, mate,” interjects John. He pulls Nikolai closer into a sloppy kiss, sharing the taste of you. You feel your stomach drop at the sight, that flame inside of you burning bright yet again. Nikolai pulls away as John wipes his thumb over his chin.

Nikolai asks, “You don’t want to taste her yourself?” “Oh,” John replies, “I’ve got other things in mind.” Before you know it, you are being pushed onto the pile of cushions. The man shudders just from holding his cock as he positions himself between your lifted legs.

“Say it,” he orders. “Tell me what you want.”

“John,” you say, voice a bit shaky, “fuck me.”

“You don't get to order me around.” He thrusts forward just to tease his tip against your clit. "Beg for it."

“Please fuck me” you plead. “I’ve been so good. Please—fuck me, please!” John cracks a devious smile.

You are so wet, there is barely any resistance when John pushes the tip in. It sounds wet even. He mumbles ‘fucking hell’ under his breath as he slides in. You can barely think. Cumming twice has awarded you no clarity, it only made the lustful haze grow. All you can attempt to focus on is how deep his cock is and his deep blue eyes.

“I really should be punishing you for earlier,” John remarks. He barely pulls out to thrust, he’s focusing on being as deep as possible. Like he’s attempted to batter your cervix.

“What did I do?” That’s never a smart question to ask when someone is talking about punishments.

“Those scratches on my legs fuckin’ hurt love,” he grunts. “Wanted me to think about you on the flight home?”

“I didn’t mean—”

“Makes me want to return the favor,” he says with a grin. “It’s only fair, right?” His eyes flick down to your chest.

“Yeah, it’s only fair,” you concede. “Nothing visible, ok?”

“Of course,” he answers. Then John leans forward to plant his mouth on your chest. With very little warning, he sucks and bites hard. You wince and tremble when the pain shoots through you. But, after each bite or bruising kiss he softly brushes his lips against the sore area. Just as you get used to it, he finds another spot to attack.

If anyone sees the marks you’ll have to lie and say you got hit in the plate on this mission. Bruises after a mission are nothing new. Hopefully no one notices they are shaped a bit differently than normal.

After John’s tirade against your chest begins to fade, his thrust speeds up again. When he looms over you each thrust makes his chest hair brush against your nipples. His gaze is so intense, you have to close your eyes so you don’t drown in those eyes.

“Oh don’t do that, Milaya,” says Nik. He grabs your jaw and forces you to look at John. “What good is a pretty face if you can’t look at it?” He thrusts up particularly hard. You bite your lip to suppress your cry. Dissatisfied, Nik forces his thumb into your mouth so you can’t stifle the sounds.

“What good is a pretty voice when you try to hide it?” Asks John. These two are more deadly than any squadron you’ve faced before. You almost miss the fun when John was in the middle. Nik leans down closer to your ear than John. He says filthy things that make you shiver. What he could do if he had more equipment or more time to plan.

“What if you never went back?” He asks. “Say one day you become MIA and I could keep you safe and locked up.” You would be embarrassed of the noise you made if you had any capability of feeling shame.

“Full of ideas, you are,” grunts John. “Remember that comrades are supposed to share.”

“Of course, comrade,” Nik laughs. An image of being tied up at Nik’s mercy makes your heart leap. The man can keep two soldiers in line with his attitude alone. What would he be able to do on his own turf or with his own toys? Fuck, what kind of toys would he have?

“She’s getting tight, mate,” warns John. “You want her to cum?” Even while John is fucking her, Nik still has some control.

“Ty khoroshaya devochka?” Asks Nik, your ability to understand Russian is long gone. “Good girls cum when they are told, yeah?”

“That they fucking do,” answers John. “Nikolai asked you a question. Are you a good girl?”

You nod furiously. If John stops now you may lose your mind. “Then you know what to do.”

Nikolai reaches forward, grabs a breast, and pinches hard. It should hurt, maybe it does, but it’s the sharp sensation your body needs. You cum screaming. You don’t care. There’s no one for miles or klicks, or whatever. Even if someone was outside, the blanket of snow would dampen it.

You try to cover your eyes, but Nik holds your arm down. Using the other hand, he holds your jaw so you can’t quiet yourself.

“Not done yet, love,” John warns. He doesn’t give you the time to truly come down from that high. A moment later you are flipped over on top of John with his cock still inside you. When he shifted he pressed right against that sweet spot.

“Lean forward, Milaya,” Nik orders. He gently pushes you forward until you are face to face with John. Then you feel him press his cock against that

“Look at me, love,” urges John. “Look at me and relax. You ever do this before?”

You shake your head ‘no.’ You haven’t done anything like this, your confidence earlier is out the window and halfway to the next country. When Nik pushes the tip inside you seize up. John coos to keep you calm.

“Breathe for me. We like you tight, but you have to enjoy it.” It takes a minute or two, but it feels like forever. These two men are like fire and ice. Nikolai presses forward slowly knowing you can take it. John praises you for taking every inch.

“Is this what you planned?” Asks John.

“I don’t—!”

Nikolai says, “She’s the one that made the bed.”

“I didn’t—” Your voice is lost when Nikolai finally bottoms out. John laughs as he grinds up and tries to grind his dick against Nik’s.

“Listen to her, mate,” says John. “Like she fucking planned this.”

Nik replies, “She was grinding against you all night.”

“I—!” Words are completely lost to you. That before Nik begins to pull out.

“Oh,” Nik says, “You don’t want this? Should we stop?” He keeps pulling out as he lightheartedly mocks you. Your face is burning bright from the embarrassment.

“Stop!” You shout. The tip of Nik’s cock just barely pulled out. “Please! Fuck! Don’t pull out!” Nik pushes forward just a bit more. Nik pulls your head back until you're looking up just barely enough to see him.

“Use your words, Milaya.” He looks so fucking full of himself.

“Fuck both of you!” You shout. You’re too neglected but overstimulated at the same time. “Enough games! Please just fuck me.”

John muses, “Hear that? She’s done playing games.”

“Fuck y—!”

Nik thrusts forward and your mind goes blank. He lets go, and you fall forward back onto John’s chest. A chest that is shaking from his teasing laughter. With exceptional teamwork, yet again, John can time his thrusts with the way Nikolai lifts your hips with each thrust.

Your mind is gone in moments. You hear skin slapping skin, but you don’t realize it’s yours. You hear cries but don’t recognize them as your own. Nik is reduced to mumbling strings of incoherent Russian. John is able to manage a few words of his own.

You’re ruined, so far gone. Just when you get used to their thrusts in time with another one changes tempo. Feeling one pulling out at the other thrusts in is somehow more intense. John’s chest feels wet from more than just sweat. You are most likely crying, probably drooling too.

You do not care. One of the most stressful missions in your career turned into the best night of your life. Neither of your partners care, they seem to get off on your cockdrunk expression.

John lifts your hips up so he can thrust you back down. Nik holds your sides to keep you steady enough for his brutal rhythm.

"Please!" You cry out. "Pleasedon'tstop!"

“Oh fuck!” Groans Nikolai. His fingers dig into your sides enough to hurt. Finally losing his composure as he tries to cum as deep as possible in your ass. Suddenly his thrusts are so much sloppier, so much wetter, than before. The wet squelch hits your ears and your body convulses.

“That’s fucking it, love,” urges John. “Cum for me. I’ll fill you up right.” Just like that, you fall. You lose control of your arms and fall against his chest. Nik doesn’t stop moving as he cums. John’s breathing gets more labored with each thrust. You barely get a warning before the man groans and moans. He holds onto you so tight you pray you won’t have a health evaluation when you get back. There would be no way to explain all of these bruises.

You feel like you are floating until someone’s hands start stroking your hair. It’s Nikolai, then it’s John. You sigh against John’s chest, you can’t remember a time you’ve felt better.

“Should I get off of you?” You ask.

“Stay where you are, love. There’s no rush,” John groans. You shudder when Nikolai pulls out. Then he drops him beside you and John. Carefully, John lifts you enough for his cock to slide out. You press your face into John’s chest to hide your embarrassment. Everything was too much. You’re nerves were on fire and you started to shiver.

“Easy Milaya, we've got you,” Nikolai hushes you. The dominating attitude is completely gone, only tenderness and concern.

“Thank you,” you mumble. John and Nik carefully get you off of John’s chest so you can sink into the mess of cushions. John mumbles something about cleaning up before he stands. You knew you were wrecked. So, seeing John struggle to walk on his way to the bathroom makes your great flutter. You weren’t the only one struggling.

Hopefully you weren’t the only one whose life was changed tonight.

The rest of the night is a blur. You barely remember getting cleaned up, taken care of. Then you remember the warmth sleeping between John and Nik. You have hazy memories of groping hands and rubbing against one another that could easily have been dreams.

In the morning, the dried cum on your body tells you it was probably real too.

********

“This is Echo-2. Kilo-4, do you copy?” The radio crackles with life. You attempt to crack your eyes open and figure out where your radio ended up. “Kilo-4, do you copy?” You shift in the pile of pillows, bumping into limbs, and crawling over bodies. You stifle a yawn before answering the radio.

“Echo-2, this is Kilo-4,” you say. You wipe your eyes and force yourself to wake up. John and Nik yawn as they also wake-up from their deep slumber. A blush grows across your face when you realize everyone is still naked.

“Kilo-4, evac for you, Bravo-6, and Sigint-6 is inbound,” the radio replies. Your blood goes cold. The men also begin to scramble to clean up and get dressed. “ETA two hours. Sending coordinates now.”

“Roger that.” Relief washes over you. Thank god, evac isn't here right now. “We’ll be there.”

“Over and out.”

The three of you hurry to get packed up. It’s all business. The rose-colored illusion is shattered, there are barely any words between you. When your hands bump into each other and it startles you. You would mumble apologies before getting back to business.

Your heart feels heavy, almost empty. You opened yourself up in this safehouse and hearing that evac is inbound hit you like a bucket of cold water. John and Nik seem conflicted as well. Everyone has a hundred things they want to say, but no time to address anything. It was driving you crazy.

“Fuck it,” you mumble before pulling John towards you.

“Love,” he mumbles, “we can’t.”

“Let me have this,” you plead, “Just this once.” You pull him back into the kiss and he holds you close.

“Forgetting someone?” Interject Nikolai. He’s pretending to look offended.

“Get over here, mate,” orders John, motioning him over.

The next few minutes are clingy and desperate. People fight one another for another swipe of a tongue, one more chance to bite a lip, anything. No words are shared, only the thin air between you.

Lightheaded, you pull away from the mess and sigh. You needed that, you needed to know that last night was real. The mood seems a bit lighter since the tension was broken.

“It was an honor to work with you two,” you say.

“Likewise, Lieutenant,” replies John.

“Maybe not quite honorable,” says Nikolai, “but still very enjoyable."

********

For weeks on end you were nervous, waiting for the shoe to drop. You expected to be called into your SO’s office and be discharged for your inappropriate actions in that safehouse. Or be scolded because it was actually a trap. Maybe something absurd would happen like someone using a blacklight in that building and seeing evidence of the debauchery that took place.

Nothing happened. The worry faded and the memories became sweet. You tried to meet people again, opened yourself while you were on leave. Nothing quite compared to the emotional high of that night, but that’s what made it so special.

Over a year later, you ran into John. He was Captain John Price now. You didn’t even recognize him with that beard. He came out of nowhere and tapped you on the shoulder.

“It’s good to see you again, love,” he said softly. To an observer you looked like two old friends merely catching up. “You look happy.” You smile. “I am happy. A lot more tired, but still happy.”

“Tale as old as time, that is.” John winces as he tries to subtly stretch his back. Both of you are looking a bit weary for your ages. “Get up to any more trouble then?”

“Oh,” you reply, “I make trouble for myself. Just not as much as I used to.” When he smiles his eyes squint just like you remembered.

“It was quite the assignment if I recall.”

“Yeah, it was,” you say. “I think about it sometimes.”

“Is that quite right?” He asks, his interest piqued. “Maybe we should reminisce over a pint. I know a place not too far.”

“I would like that,” you answer. “I’m here for at least a week.”

“Maybe I’ll see if an old friend can join us too.” A twinkle shines in his eyes. “Might make remembering things a bit easier.”

“Oh,” you say. “I think I would enjoy that very much.”

Blues’ Masterlist | COD x Reader Masterlist

Tagging: @deadbranch

#crying #throwing up #SOBBING #such scRUMPTIOUS MEAL #thank you for the diNNER #captain john price #nikolai cod

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Warm Up (Soap Mactavish x F!Reader x Simon "Ghost" Riley)

Pairing: Soap x Ghost x F!Reader Category: Pure Smut (18+) Warnings: Threesome (F/M/M), Double Penetration, Oral Sex (Male and Female Receiving), Vaginal Fingering, P in V Sex, Unprotected Sex (You Know the Drill), Creampie, Doggy Style, Pussy Slapping, Spanking, Spitroast, Unbalanced Power Dynamics (Ghost is Your Superior), Bondage, Dom!Ghost/Dom!Soap/Sub!Reader Word Count: 2.8k+

Summary: Your boyfriend (Johnny) and your lieutenant (Simon) decide to introduce you to a special warm up routine. For training purposes, of course…

Author’s Note: This is pure and utter trashy filth ngl. The reader is a Sergeant, codename "Viper".

MINORS/AGELESS BLOGS DNI

“Look at her, Ghost,” your boyfriend grunted as he swiped his finger across your dripping slit. You moaned, your hands clenching behind your back in a rubbery resistance band. You leaned against Johnny’s strong chest, your legs spread across his bulky thighs. The contrast of you being stark naked in the presence of two clothed men, let alone your superior, made your legs turn to jelly.

Ghost’s eyes were trained on you, his pools of hickory calculating and predatory. They looked so much darker beneath his skull balaclava, his pupils blown wide with lust. You groaned as Johnny prodded the rough pad of his finger in and out of your entrance, sliding slow circles around it all the while.

“I think she's ready for the warm up, yeah?” Johnny chuckled, catching your mouth in a sloppy, open kiss as his thumb brushed over your clit. Your head rolled back as Johnny’s wet muscle suckled on your own. Ghost grunted as he slid onto his knees, his covered lips so agonizingly close to your aching cunny. You blushed furiously as the Scotsman spread out your soaking folds with his thick fingers.

You watched as Ghost pulled his mask up, revealing a stubbly, square chin. He swiped his tongue across his pink lips before blowing his hot breath over your cunt. You shuddered as the air fanned over your lower lips, your walls pulsing inside you.

“Fuckin’ hell, look at how wet you are,” Ghost said in a low, gruff voice. Your heartbeat quickened as he leaned his face forward, eyes snapping up to you. “You think you’re ready to break a sweat, Sergeant?” Ghost asked. You nodded violently. A sharp smack to your inner thigh made you hiss.

“Use your words, sweetheart,” Ghost rumbled in annoyance. You shook as Johnny sucked on your neck, drawing out a deep red hue.

“Y-Yes,” you begged. Ghost sighed through his nose, delivering a slap over your slick pussy. You lunged forward, the pain surging into a wave of pleasure that made your clit throb.

“Yes, what?” your superior growled. Tears spilled from your eyes, your body shivering with a dull ache. You swallowed thickly.

“Y-Yes, sir,” you mewled. Ghost and Johnny locked eyes before your love gave a firm nod. Ghost groaned before laying his lips over your lower lips. You saw stars when the Brit’s lips curled over your bundle of nerves, pressing kisses to the swollen bud.

“Fuck,” you whined, your hips grinding on Ghost’s scruffy face. His stubble scratched at the inside of your thighs as he continued to trail kisses up and down your slit. Bolts of pleasure coursed through your nerves as your bones turned into jelly. Johnny pressed rough kisses down your jaw as he watched Ghost devour your cunt. Your lieutenant’s lips smacked before he rolled his wet tongue across your bud. Your soul nearly shot out of your body as he puckered his lips around it, giving it a hard suck.

“You like how he eats your cunt, hm, Bonnie?” Johnny mused, his hands reaching up to your plush breasts. You arched your back as his fingers began to knead your tits, your ass rubbing against your boyfriend's growing erection. His teeth grazed your neck, fingers curling into your sensitive breasts. Ghost’s tongue swirled around your clit before he puckered his lips around the plush bud.

“G-Ghost,” you keened, white hot tendrils of pleasure wrapping around your lower stomach. Ghost gave your pussy a tender, open kiss before slowly pulling back. You shivered at the sight of your arousal dripping on his chin.

“Call me Simon when we’re like this,” he growled, curling his fingers into your thighs. You nearly clamped his head between your legs when he dove back in, his tongue taking in deep, heavy strokes over your hole.

“Simon! F-Feels so good,” you choked. He chuckled deeply, the sound shooting through your core. He angled his hands on your legs, spreading them impossibly wider. You cried as the tip of his tongue pressed into your tight entrance. Your head rolled back as he sighed deeply, letting his tongue drag into your tummy walls. Your mouth shot open as Johnny lightly twisted your nipples between his rough fingers.

“I think she’s gonna cum, Si,” Johnny snickered. His lips sucked over your pulse as he tugged on your buds. Your thighs shook over Johnny’s as Simon thrusted his tongue into your wet, juicy hole at a more rapid pace. You released a cacophony of sounds as your lower stomach twisted into a tight knot. “Go ‘head, baby. Show the Lt. the cute face you make when you cum,” Johnny ordered with another sudden tug of your nipples. The room was filled with a harsh wail as your head fell back onto your boyfriend’s broad shoulder.

Your head spun as you released on Simon’s face, your walls contracting so hard it was almost painful. Your brows scrunched up as your jaw went slack, drool slipping past your parted lips. Johnny rubbed his large hands over your breasts, your thighs shivering while Simon hungrily lapped up your sweet nectar.

“That’s it, dolly. Such a good lass,” Johnny murmured. You mewled as the last contraction rippled through you.

Simon leaned his head back, eyes lidded and cheeks burning with crimson. Simon looked absolutely drunk from the sweet taste of your pussy. Your body burned even more as he licked around his lips, his tongue swiping at any of your slick left on it. Johnny’s breathing stuttered at the sight of your cum painting the lieutenant’s stubbled chin. Simon’s eyes were trained on you like a bird of prey stalking a tiny mouse. You gasped as he stood and leaned forward to press a deep kiss into your lips. His tongue rolled over yours, spreading the sweet flavor of your cum across your taste buds.

“Fuck,” Johnny gritted, his cock now painfully hard below your ass. You moaned into the kiss before Simon fell away.

“Could eat that delicious cunt for every meal,” he murmured darkly. A small whine left your throat as he kissed you once again. Johnny began to buck into your ass, the friction itself making your back stretch and toes curl. Simon's eyes grew dark at the sight of your bare breasts pushing towards him as Johnny humped against you like a dog in heat. Your head was swimming in a dizzying pleasure while your heart rapidly thumped against your sternum. Simon kept his eyes locked with yours as he unbuckled his belt.

“What do you think we should do with this little Viper, Johnny?” Simon rumbled as his pants fell to the floor with a soft thud. Saliva welled inside your mouth as his thick, heavy cock raised towards the ceiling. He was gorgeous; from the flustered, red tip to the patch of tamed, coarse hair that rested at the end of his shaft. You squeaked as your boyfriend’s bulky arms snaked around your torso.

“I think she’s ready for a full body stretch,” Johnny mused, his voice rough and ravenous. Your eyes widened as he ripped you off of his lap. He spun you around, a large hand encased around the back of your head. Your breath was ragged as Johnny roughly pushed your head into the mattress, his other hand guiding your bare ass towards his crotch. You wiggled your hips in anticipation, every nerve ending in your being lit on fire. A low chuckle rumbled through Simon’s chest. You shivered as you heard your boyfriend begin to strip behind you and the bed dipped below Simon’s weight.

“Would one of you please just do something?” you whined, wiggling your hips faster and arching your back. Rough fingers slid beneath your chin, guiding you to look up. You gawked as the throbbing head of Simon's cock came close to your lips. His lips were curved up ever so slightly at your wide eyes.

“Don’t worry, love. We’ll take care of you,” Johnny murmured, his hand stroking your cheek. His pulsing cock flopped down onto your ass cheeks, perfectly slotting in between them. You felt like you were going to burst from your own skin, your wrists struggling against your binds. You whined into the sheets as Johnny lined up his length between your slick folds, your fists curling against themselves on your back. Your lieutenant clicked his tongue.

“You’re rather impatient, Sergeant,” Simon chastised. You lurched forward as Johnny laid a sharp slap across your backside, your lips now kissing the head of Simon’s dick. The taste of salty sweat and bitter precum leaked into your mouth, overwhelming your senses. A mix between a purr and a snarl erupted from Simon’s lips, his fingers intertwining with your locks. You could feel your heartbeat pounding in your ears. Johnny kneaded the sore spot on your ass before spreading your cheeks. The hand on the back of your head pushed you forward, your lips sinking down on Simon’s length. You sputtered at how his girth stretched your mouth.

“Atta girl, look at you takin’ my cock so well,” your superior praised, his other hand coming up to wipe a hot tear that rolled down your cheek. You hollow your cheeks as he inched himself inside of your wet, cavernous mouth. He hissed as your soft tongue swiped back and forth below his shaft. “Fuck,” Simon growled, the tips of his fingers digging into your scalp. Your eyes began to close, his cock soft yet firm as his tip tapped at your uvula. You gasped around his length when you felt Johnny sheath himself inside your gummy walls with one steady thrust, stretching and filling you to the brim. A moan spilled from you as his sharp hips became flush with your ass. You felt Simon’s cock impatiently twitch in your mouth.

“Jesus,” he cursed. Johnny groaned behind you as your pussy tenderly hugged his aching cock. You keened at how full you felt on both ends, the overstimulation only serving to fuel the flames of your insatiable arousal.

“I think our girl’s ready,” Johnny grunted. Our girl. You felt even dizzier at the sentiment. Simon gave a quick nod before his hand tugged at your hair, signaling for you to move. You took in a deep breath through your nose before sliding your head back, your tongue dragging along the underside of his shaft. Your eyes rolled into your skull as Johnny pulled out. Your gushing walls squelched as he pressed himself back inside, your walls molding to the shape of his cock. Your mind was scattered as you were split between sucking on Simon’s length and Johnny tenderly pushing back into you from behind.

“Your mouth looks so pretty with my cock stuffing it, Viper,” the lieutenant mused. Your walls clenched at his words, making Johnny moan.

“Fuckin’ hell, Lt,” Johnny whined. You smiled around Simon’s cock, flexing your cunt around your boyfriend’s solid dick. “Sucking me in so tight,” your love groaned. You pushed your mouth back down onto Simon’s length, but not before you swirl your tongue around his red tip. His head harshly fell back against the headboard as his chest heaved. You blushed when a gag erupted from your throat, but your attention was diverted when Johnny began to angle his cock into your spongy spot. Your jaw went slack, allowing Simon to push even deeper into your tight throat.

“Like it when we use you like this, bonnie?” he asked between pants. You tried to nod your head, but you were stuck in Simon’s grasp. You offered a muffled moan instead. Johnny smacked your ass again as he dragged his cock back out. You whimpered, drool now dribbling past your lips. “It’s rude to talk with your mouth full, (Y/N),” Johnny chastised playfully before massaging the red mark.

Simon’s head fell against the headboard, both of his hands now tightly knitted into your locks. You felt something burn inside of your chest, your brows furrowing with determination. You arched your back before bobbing your head up and down your lieutenant's thick girth, taking him in fully. He gazed down at you with parted lips as you fervently sucked his hard cock. Tears streamed down your cheeks as you stared up at him with soft, wet doe-eyes.

“Jesus Christ, Viper. Don’t you dare fucking stop,” his commanding voice cracked on the last word when you slowly swirled your tongue around his tip. You smirked around his length before hollowing your inner cheeks as much as you could. Simon snarled before he snatched your hair into his hand. You gasped before he began to guide your head up and down his shaft. Your hands gripped into tight fists when Johnny’s pace picked up behind you, wishing you could hold onto your lieutenant's supple, muscular thighs for support.

The room was full of salacious sounds; a choir of pants and moans, praises and curses, squelching and spankings. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head as both men used you like their personal fleshlight. Your lower muscles spasmed as Johnny leaned forward, his broad chest flush against your back. You cried when he sank his teeth into your shoulder.

“I want you to take our cum like the good lass you are,” Johnny grunted with a sharp thrust. "You can do it, dolly. I know you can," he snarled animalistically. Both of your ends felt wetter, your arousal splashing against Johnny’s legs as you slobbered on Simon’s cock. You felt the tension in your pussy swell as pleasure spiked your mind. With a sudden, deep growl, Simon slammed your head down onto his length, his hairs tickling your nose.

"Fuck," the lieutenant groaned. You mewled as you felt him shoot load after load of his warm cum down the back of your throat. His balls twitched beneath him as he screwed his eyes shut, his chest heaving as he came undone in your mouth. The feeling of his seed dripping down your throat made your pussy flutter.

An overwhelming heat suddenly crashed over you, your eyes rolling into the back of your head. You wailed as you clamped down on Johnny’s dick, the euphoria flooding your empty, fucked-out mind. His fingers curled into your waist as he gritted his teeth.

“(Y/N)!” Johnny howled as he stilled. You moaned as he painted the inside of your pussy white with his thick cum, his cock twitching relentlessly. "So good, you're so good to me, lass," he muttered as he thrusted into you weakly. Your mind was drowning in bliss as your contractions began to dissipate.

Simon massaged your cheeks before he slowly pulled you off his length. You suppressed the urge to gasp and sputter as your lips came free. Your boyfriend rubbed your waist tenderly. All of you were panting, chests heaving and bodies shaking with adrenaline. You tilted your head up to Simon, batting your lashes before explicitly swallowing his spend down your throat. He gasped softly, and nearly came again when you stuck out your clean tongue.

“Christ, I didn’t know my Sergeant was this filthy,” Simon groaned. Your scalp stinging slightly as he traced his fingers down your neck and over to your jaw. You sighed as you pressed your face into his warm, heavy palm.

“Funny, I was thinking the same about my Lieutenant,” you quipped, voice hoarse from his rough fucking. He huffed through his nose, though the small grin on his face showed that he was clearly amused. You whimpered when Johnny pulled his cock out of you, his length absolutely drenched in your arousal and his cum.

“How are you feeling, hen?” he asked sweetly. You lowered your back and turned around to him. His pupils were blown wide, shrouding his light blue eyes in a primal darkness. His rugged body was always a treat for your eyes, his abs flexing as he took in a deep breath, arms taut as his hands rubbed your waist.

“I-I don’t know honestly,” you laughed tiredly. Johnny gave a sly grin.

“We were that good, huh?” he chuckled. You nodded, pushing a strand of hair behind your ear. Simon’s hand fell away from your cheek as Johnny slid his hands over your arms. “Come ‘ere, bonnie,” Johnny cooed. You obeyed, dragging your limp body onto his sturdy lap. You nuzzled your face into his shoulder as he pressed gentle kisses to the top of your head. Johnny was always huge on keeping you close to him after sex, whether it was his arms wrapped around you or your pussy warming his cock. Your mind drifted as he languidly stroked your back.

You squealed when you felt your asscheeks being spread. Something wet and cold suddenly traced over your asshole. You whipped your head around, Simon’s lips curled as he applied lube to your puckering hole. Your brows were knitted in confusion as your boyfriend gently grabbed your chin and turned your head.

“Don’t you remember?” he began, moving your hips so your soaked folds rested above his half-hard cock. You swallowed thickly as you felt Simon position himself against your ass, his tip threatening to breach your tight asshole. Johnny smirked when he saw your eyes widen in realization.

“This is a stamina test, too,” he chuckled.

____

Thank you for reading! ❤️

#ABSOLUTELY GODSENT #ghost x reader #soap x reader #ghost x soap x reader #cod smut

855 notes · View notes

gomzreblogs · 2 years ago

Note

Hoping I haven’t missed the requests closing 🙏if so pls ignore!

I’m humbly asking for a fluffy Gaz x reader and reader meeting price bc I’ll die on the hill of Price and Gaz having a father/son relationship. And Gaz being so nervous on what price thinks? Brownie points if Price teases him! I love Gaz sm and I wanna smooch him on the forehead!!

Shaky Fingers

PAIRING: Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick x F!Reader

SYNOPSIS: The perfect date night begins with a stolen wallet and a goose chase.

WORD COUNT: 2.7k

WARNINGS: None, just fluff

A/N: Switched some stuff around so it's more of the 141 as a whole, but it's still pretty much the same, enjoy Anon!

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

You think Gaz was about ready to call the whole night off.

Laughing, you shake your head and walk over to Kyle after flattening out your dress with fast hands. The apartment bedroom was ripe with the scent of cologne and perfume; the floor lamp was on and you had just finished placing a luxurious necklace over your neck. The twinkling stone blinks like a white eye in the low light.

“Dear,” you chuckle deeply to your boyfriend of three years as his head is in his hands. Gaz sits on the bed, dejected. “It’s alright, I can pay for supper—it’s really not that big of a deal.”

“Bloody thing,” He groans, his tux wrinkled from the frantic patting he’d done to his pockets a few minutes prior. “I swear, Love, it was right in my pocket near noon!”

“Kyle,” stopping in front of him, you grab at his wrists, peeling his hands away from his handsome face. Grumpy eyes lock on yours but soften as you send an easy, reassuring, smile his way; the lines on his forehead fall from a harsh line to a squiggly suggestion on the page that is his face. He sighs. “It’s okay.”

Chuffing at the absurdity, your tone is a bit teasing.

“You’re acting like I don’t have a job, too,” Kyle grumbles at this, and his oval face shifts in a play of exaggerated exasperation.

“I’m not making you pay for our anniversary dinner, I’d never be able to sleep at night.” He says, and he captures your hands in his own, holding them together and bringing them to his lips for a delicate kiss. You tilt your head and watch, face heating.

“So you can run into active warzones and get covered in all sorts of fluids but you can’t handle letting your girlfriend pay for food? Kyle, you sound ridiculous.” Leaning forward, you lay a smooch on his forehead and feel his body jerk out chuckles.

“Never said I didn’t like the idea,” Brown eyes lower in a small jab. A joke making his lips pull up in a smirk. “It’s called being a gentleman, Love.”

“A gentleman that loses his wallet, apparently. Not very soldier-like, Sergeant Garrick.” Your eyelids crinkle as you grin, firing back just as fast as Gaz blinks, brought back to the dilemma that was pushing back your departure for the restaurant down in the city. A pointedly expensive restaurant.

“It was right on me! I swear, this has never happened before.”

You shrug, straightening up to full height and tugging at Kyle’s dress shirt; prompting him to stand up so you can straighten his tie. He does so without complaint, and your fingers spread over fine silk.

“I’m gutted. We can’t go until I find it. I’m not even that worried about my money—it’s my damn ID that’s draggin’ me by the arse.” You glance up at him, humming, before pulling at the neck of his shirt and setting the tie comfortably under. Kyle’s grip goes to rest on your waist and you slightly melt into his chest more.

“Base ID?” Your voice mutters out in question.

“Yeah, that’s the bloody one. Price’ll kill me if he finds I’ve lost it. Fuckin’ hell.” Sighing deeply, you sag into him, your chin going to rest on his collarbone so you can look up at him with a tiny glimmer of understanding.

Gaz’s jaw was tight with worry, brows drawn in and those two tiny scars on his left cheek pulled stiff. His stubble brushed your nose as he angled his head down to stare into your eyes when your grip traveled to wrap around his waist loosely. He huffs and kisses your nose bridge.

“I’m sorry, Sweetheart, I’m ruining the night with all this talk. We should be out already, shouldn’t we?” You’re already frowning at him, pinching his side as he grunts in surprise and stifles a boyish laugh.

“Quit that,” you say, “this is just as important. Do you remember where you last put it?”

You’d never been to Kyle’s work before—that is, the military base where he’s stationed at. He doesn’t really have a workplace per se, just a temporary office and barracks room if he needed it. The Sergeant is off across the world more often than not.

“I haven’t got a clue,” Kyle’s voice goes low but his chest rises with gratification at the genuine care you show to him over something as silly as this. Heat rises to his cheeks when your fingers run back and forth over his back—his own hands tighten around you, keeping you close. “I knew I had it at lunch. I went out and got you those flowers from that floral shop that you like—I had to use my ID to get back on Base.”

Those very flowers were sitting in a vase on your vanity, bright and vibrant. You’d swooned when Kyle had gotten back to the apartment with them.

“Alright,” your eyes stare off into your boyfriend’s brown orbs, focussing deeply. Gaz sees your nose scrunch in thought and he smiles widely, chuckling and lightly beginning to sway the two of you back and forth to unseen music. “Lunch,” you mutter, barely noticing.

“Don’t strain yourself, now,” Kyle teases.

“Hush,” Scolding, you fake a scowl and feel him rest his forehead on yours. His hair tickles your flesh and you giggle. Heart pounding, Gaz listens to you speak as if caught in a trap of his own making, gaze exceptionally soft and breathing secondary to the way your mouth curls into a smile; how your beauty ensnares him in your otherworldly glow. “Anything else, Dear?”

“Hm,” Blinking out of his love-struck gaze, Kyle thinks deeply—straining his mind. A memory sparks and a flame burns in his gut. His expression flips as the air sparks. “MacTavish…oh, that fucker’s dead.”

You make a noise of confusion as Gaz starts rambling, pulling back from you and beelining for the keys on the nightside table. Face open and soft with shock, you stutter a small laugh when the man darts back and grabs you by the shoulders; angling you to the bedroom door and to the foyer.

“Gaz?” You chuckle endearingly at his annoyed face, his lips pulled tight, and his eyes narrow on nothing as he releases you. He bends down and snatches your heels, turning and bending a knee with a groan.

“Bastard. I knew he would get to me eventually, Love, it was only a matter of time.”

“‘Get to you?’” Amusement makes you place a hand over your lips before a loud snort can escape your lungs. “Kyle, what are you on about?”

His nimble fingers loop the buckle of the heels over your ankle, pulling to a comfortable tightness as he cradles your calf. Brown eyes glance up at you with deep seriousness.

“Soap…I told you about him, yeah?” you nod and carefully place your foot back down; letting Gaz pick up the other and slip your foot into the expensive material. The smile never leaves your face as the calloused hands scrape your flesh. Kyle huffs out a scoff. “He’s been pulling all of our legs for weeks—got to some of the recruits first but it bled over to One-Four-One. Didn’t think he’d fuck with me so soon; would have prepared otherwise.”

“The Scottish one?” You stand fully on your two feet and grab your coat from the hook and slip it over your shoulders, glancing at Gaz as he puts on his own shoes. You go over and kiss the top of his head in thanks for the assistance with your own. “So you were pranked?”

“When he bumped into me,” your boyfriend explains, and you’re being carefully corralled out the door with your arm resting in the crook of his elbow; you grip the nice fabric of his suit and listen with rapt attention and a toothy smile. “I thought he’d just wanted to hurry on to the pub—I didn’t think much of his grab at my waist as anything more than to keep him steady. Mate stole my fucking wallet.”

He says it so aghast that you giggle and see him blink, expression turning cheeky.

“What?” Gaz looks over at you with a raised brow and a smirk. “Look at that beautiful smile—you think this is funny, Love? You are just wicked, you are.”

“I think it’s hilarious,” your body leans into his heavily; pulling his body heat into yours and making you all toasty as you gaze at him with love. “Are we going on a mission, Sergeant?”

Gaz stares with a vast haze of affection and pleasure, “Damn right we are.” An arm wraps around your waist and squeezes your flesh—your face goes warm. “We’re trackin’ down a shit-faced Scot on our anniversary. Bloody brilliant if you ask me. You have my six?”

“Well,” you sigh with enjoyment, not at all angry or annoyed at the strained dinner reservation. Brown eyes crinkle at you. “It’ll be good to finally meet who you work with.” Your lips widen, “I’d be honored.”

“Christ, let’s just hope he has it on him.”

—

Gaz huffs as he pushes open the front door to the pub, and you take in the scent of tobacco and alcohol. With a muttered thanks to your boyfriend as he holds open the barrier for you, you slip inside and the smell only increases to a violent level. You blink around the old-style wood and decor, surprised with how much you enjoy the drunken cheeks and dim light atmosphere. Like a wave that goes in and out, your ears ring from music playing out a jukebox in the far corner.

“This way, then,” Kyle sighs loudly, and you see his eyes have already locked into three men at the bar top. A loud roar of laughter accompanies the both of you as you head over to who you assumed were his coworkers.

You glance down at your expensive attire and then at Gaz’s and stifle a loud laugh at the stares you’re getting. The two of you are comically overdressed.

“MacTavish!” Your boyfriend calls eyes exasperated if not a bit annoyed. When all of the individuals at the bar turn to look at the two of you. “Want to explain why my wallet’s not in my fucking pant pocket right now?”

You figure out who he’s talking to when the man with a strong face and a mohawk bursts out into chest-jerking laughter after a second of pure silence. His pale hands slap the table where his multiple empty shot glasses rattle against one another.

“Oh, hell,” yep, Scottish. Gaz glowers next to you with a stiff frown until you elbow his side. He glances down and rolls his eyes as you chuckle—his arm going over your shoulders.

“Fuckin’ not again—What’s he done?” The gravel in the bearded man’s tone took you aback for a moment, such a low and grating voice laced with a firm authority. A black beanie was on top of his brown hair, and tiny orbs colored like the sea turned to stare.

They blink in slight surprise when they find you, curiously shifting the lines present.

“Johnny, what the fuck?” A shrouded man grumbles, a face mask sitting comfortably over most of his expression and a hood up over his head. Blueish-gray eyes blink in your direction before their numbness shifts back to the wheezing Scot.

“Ah, Christ, I’m sorry,” Johnny gasps, clearly drunk by the flush to his skin. You spare a look with Gaz and can’t help the amused twitch of your brow. “Didn’t realize I’d forgotten to give it back to ya!”

“Stole my bloody wallet is what he’s done,” Kyle mutters to the man with a beard, who you assumed to be his Captain only by the atmosphere surrounding him. “We’re late for dinner.”

“Kyle, I told you it’s alright,” your hand goes to pinch his cheek before his face heats up so much you feel it from your fingers. Eyes shifting, you address the three with a smile. “Such a worrier this one,” you huff and introduce yourself by name, “...it’s a pleasure.”

“Pleasure’s all ours, Sweetheart,” the Captain grunts, raising his nearly empty glass into the air in greeting. “Good to finally put a face to a name. John Price. John’s all well and good.” He motions to the masked man. “Ghost.”

You send a nod and a grin the large and intimidating Brit’s way. All he does is stare before blinking slowly.

“Soap,” Kyle levels, shifting away from you and walking closer to the Scot with a loosely motioning hand, “C’mon, Mate, you’re piss-faced—hand it over.”

“Does he always do this?” You ask easily to Price and Ghost as the other two go at it like teens.

John shares an amused glance with you and grunts out a low chuckle. “Not always, told him to tone it down ‘fore he gets Disciplinary.”

Ghost huffs in agreement, scratching at his arm.

“Like tellin’ a fuckin’ dog not to go after a bone.” You snort, looking back at your boyfriend as he begins patting down a limp and slurring Soap like airport security.

“Seems you two have got your hands full. I know Kyle isn’t above poking fun, either.”

“Waitin’ for them to burn each other out, Love,” John utters, and you share a cheeky smile with him.

You enjoyed how easy it was to converse with the man—especially the one that was in charge of your boyfriend while he was away. It puts you at ease to finally meet all of them... no matter how shit-faced.

“Aha!” Gaz’s form rips out the body of his leather wallet with a shout of victory. Soap grumbles, rubbing at his face with the heel of his palm.

“If I’d known you were takin’ your bonnie girl out I’d have taken your tags instead.”

“Well look at that, so considerate,” Kyle chuckles, shaking his head. “You’re demented, Mate.”

“Ah, that’s just the top of it, eh?” You chuckle at the Scot’s comment, pulling out your phone from your jacket pocket and checking the time.

“Can we still make it?” Kyle asks, jogging back up to you as you click your tongue; turning the screen and showing him with a smirk.

“Think they’ll forgive a fifteen-minute absence?” Your boyfriend slowly deflates and your face softens at the sight of his sagging shoulders. John sighs long at his seat and stands; slapping a hand on Kyle’s shoulder and lightly placing one on yours.

Gaz looks up at him in surprise.

“Well, that’s proper bad luck,” the Captain starts, face serious and tiny eyes narrowed, “say what, then, the two of you pick what you want and Soap’ll cover the cost for the night.” Ghost huffs a dull bark of a laugh from his seat. You’re not even sure Johnny heard it above him tipping back another shot.

You and Kyle share a glance before twin smirks form on both of your faces.

“Can…you do that, Sir?” Kyle asks, accusatory.

“What kind of a bloody question is that?” John grunts before staring at you. “Now, don’t think too hard about it, eh? MacTavish has been getting too bold—maybe losin’ a few bills’ll screw his head back straight.”

“I have no problem with it,” your eyes slide to your boyfriend, raising an eyebrow. “You?”

John chuckles and pats your shoulders, squeezing. “Knew she’d jump on it.”

Kyle laughs, making the most of the situation as he nods a few times—watching you with his eyes drowned with warmth and affection.

“I’m down.” You giggle excitedly and slip into one of the dirty bar seats next to Ghost, eagerly trying to get him into a conversation about drinks and good food available in your expensive dress and jacket.

Gaz stares after with a tiny smile, slipping his wallet into his pocket where it belongs.

“Proper Bird,” John mutters, glancing at his Sergeant, grunting as Kyle chuffs. “It’s good to have something like that to go back to. Make it last, then.”

“I don’t plan on messing this up, Boss,” Gaz’s cheeks go hot with embarrassment, but it’s telltale how his eyes never leave your frame for a single second. “Not on my life.”

“Good.” John nods his head, “Go on.”

Kyle sends him a thankful look and shuffles over to the empty seat next to yours; feeling you immensely snuggle up into his side and continue your mostly one-sided conversation with Ghost. Soap was still drinking down his beverages with loud comments every once and a while.

Gaz kisses the top of your head and waves over the bartender.

TAGS:

@luuvbuzz, @emerald-valkyrie, @anna-banana27, @blueoorchid, @cryingnotcrying, @writeforfandoms, @homicidal-slvt, @jade-jax, @frazie99, @elmoees, @littlemisstrouble, @alpineswinter, @phoenixhalliwell, @idocarealot, @lavalleon, @facelessmemories, @h-leigh, @20forty9, @glitter-anon-asks, @emily-who-killed-a-man, @neelehksttr, @aeneanc, @escapefromrealitysm, @i-d-1-0-t, @pparcxysm, @hawkscanendme, @caramlizedtomatos, @konigsleftkidney, @sanfransolomitatm, @maelstrom007, @jemandderkeinenusernamenfindet, @pheobees, @glitterypirateduck, @uselsshuman, @fan-of-encouragement, @halfmoth-halfman, @ghostlythunderbird, @I-inkage, @pukbadger, @kopatych11, @0nceinabluem00n, @cocrorapop, @knightofsexyness, @abnormalgeil, @smallseastone, @jacegons, @330bpm-whiplash, @simon-rileys-housewife, @4-atsu, @tiredmetalenthusiast

#this is so cuteee #and soft #aarhdkxksnfbs gaz bb #kyle gaz garrick

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gomzreblogs · 2 years ago

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although i know ghostsoap is very much your thing (and you do them so so beautifully), do you have any thoughts on involving roach with them?

🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹 I love this word "involving"... like I'm inserting a third

Let's see if he shows up in MWIII, but I'd never even THOUGHT about that protag man from MW2 until I read m1ckstart's fanfiction, now he is (also) my child.

#oh…oh my god #OH 09 GHOST ARGDJXKSN #im so #mm #THIS IS SO GOOD #not but also #I LOVE LOVE LOVE YOUR CAPTAIN SOAP SM *CRIES*#john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #gary roach sanderson #cod #call of duty

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gomzreblogs · 2 years ago

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Any emoji? The possibilities are endless

What about 💄 and Ghost?

I’m excited to see what you come up with 😂

Mentions of NSFW

“What’er you gigglin about?” You felt him smile against your shoulder.

“You should go look in the mirror.” You whispered, pressing a kiss just below his ear. He shivered and pressed himself closer, having absolutely no desire to get up.

Your alarm went off causing both of you to groan.

“I have to get to work.” You sighed trying to worm your way out from under him.

“I wish you’d take me up on my offer and be a stay at home partner.” He grumbled. He nipped at the skin around your neck.

“Si.” You gasped, pushing gently at his chest. He pressed a kiss against your lips before rolling off of you. You couldn’t help as another giggle rolled from your lips. “Come.” You demanded softly, offering him your hand. He grabbed your hand following you to the bathroom.

He finally saw what all the snickers were about. Red kisses marked his skin just about everywhere. His face- absolutely covered. His chest was smeared with them, some even daring to wander down his stomach in a neat trail. One lone kiss, bright red against his thigh.

He looked at you with cheeks almost as red as the markings on his skin.

“Well.” He sighed.

“Well, what?” You questioned.

“Aren’t you going to say how good I look in this color?”

#slay #simon ghost riley

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gomzreblogs · 2 years ago

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it was all an attempt for Alejandro to stop hissing at Valeria and woo Rudy instead, eventually it worked and *insert spicy scene* hehe

Valeria actively and very publicly pursuing Rudy romantically to piss off Alejandro. She sends him expensive gifts whenever she can. and she offers to take him out to dinner and fly him out to some of the most expensive Michelin star restaurants and buy him anything he wants. Rudy always declined her gifts but Alejandro still displayed severe aggression towards her. One evening Alejandro walked into HQ, pissed from chasing off Valeria from base, to find Rudy fondly looking at a vase of orchids. Alejandro realizes then that her wooing might be working on Rudy.

#call of duty #alejandro vargas #rodolfo parra #rudy #valeria cod #alerudyval

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gomzreblogs · 2 years ago

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Flash drive

John Price x fem!reader

Warning: NSFW, smut, oral m!recieving, masturbation, porn. Not edited.

————-

John wasn’t quite sure how things had gotten so out of hand. It started out innocent, just doing some work in his home office that he had been avoiding all weekend. He needed to find an old file on a flash drive he hadn’t used in years. It was sitting at the bottom of a small cardboard box packed up neatly in his office closet.

John cursed himself for his poor naming of files, one being named ‘stuff’. There were over a hundred files and he knew that because for some reason he chose to number most of them instead of name them. His plan of action was to go through each one and properly name them so he wouldn’t run into this problem again. It was tedious and put him in a foul mood.

That was until he stumbled upon one labeled ‘sensitive.’ Clicking into the file he saw it was password protected. Unusual, but he typed his password in anyway. The bar shook and a line popped up saying incorrect password. Again that was unusual. So he tried various others until the only one left was the joint password you two used for important documents. Bingo!

John smiled to himself wondering why on earth he decided to use that password on a work hard drive. The file took a second to load but once opened it revealed photos he hadn’t viewed in years. John choked on his spit as he caught sight of you in nothing but his brimmed hat.

The memories of this file flooding back instantly. He clicked on the first photo of you in his light blue t-shirt, legs spread and your hand covering your cunt. Clicking to the next photo you were in the same position except your fingers were deep inside yourself. It was easy to assume the photos only became more erotic from there.

John flicked through each one. His cock was stiff in his jeans as he admired you. The sight of your ass in the air with the most innocent look in your eyes had him craving for you to come home so he could plow you into the mattress. The one of you in dusty pink lingerie with your mouth wrapped around his thumb and eyes staring up at the camera being his favorite.

There were at least two dozen images, the last one being a video. It was from back when you two were dating and not living together yet. It was taken in his old apartment. The memories of those navy walls and four post bed now visible. John knew he had some work to get done but he couldn’t help how his finger twitched around the computer mouse. The curser floating over the little icon of your devilish grin, your red lace lingerie set on display.

John was just going to watch a couple of seconds of it to jog his memory. At least that was his intention. He did not mean to put ear buds in and have his jeans pulled down below his hips. He was leaned back in the leather office chair, eyes trained on the video in front of him as he pumped his fist lazily. John almost never jerked off at home, you were as needy as him so there was little reason to.

In the video you were on your hands and knees with your ass in the air. Moans of his name echoed through his old bedroom and into his ear buds as he took you from behind. The way your ass jiggled with each thrust had John entranced. If he could have you right now he would, but he was okay settling for this video at the moment.

The camera was set up on a tripod so both your bodies were fully visible. Your blue nails were gripping the sheets for dear life, face shoved into the fabric of the comforter. John was half way through the film and stroking himself at a casual pace so he could watch the entirety of the forty-five minute video.

The scene was erotic and he was being rough, pulling your hair and smacking your ass. Absolute filth dripping from his tongue as he made you beg. Pulling you up by your shoulder you were held tight to John’s chest. It only made you moan louder and babble out pleas for him to let you cum. He had been edging you up to this point. On screen he smacked your cunt hard with his free hand making you wail in pain and pleasure. Sinful words dripping from your tongue promising to let him do whatever he wanted to you if he just let you cum.

John started to tug at his thick length faster as you came on screen, his name falling from your lips once more as your body shook. The noises you were making had him teetering on the edge of release as you were flipped over and now riding him eagerly. Your breasts were bouncing up and down, back arched as you braced yourself on his thighs.

On screen, John started to plead for you to slow done. That only caused you to pick up the pace and taunt him. Telling him he could take it, but he couldn’t and told you, you’d regret it. You didn’t listen and it caused his former self to push up and forward. Having you fall on your back, head now at the end of the bed as he folded you in half. Putting you into a matting press you came again at the change of position and he remembered how tight you felt that night. John was pumping his cock quickly as he focused on reaching his release. He reached for the tissue box on his desk as he felt that familiar sensation tightening in his balls.

That was until his office door opened and you stepped in. It was like time slowed down as John realized he was about to be caught in the act. His orgasm ripped away and replaced by fear. The smile on your lips disappeared in an instant and was replaced with a look of pure horror. The takeout container you were bringing to him falling to the floor with a thud. You let out a gasp then a tiny squeak of surprise. Hands flying to your eyes as you started to babble out apologies for not knocking.

John was mortified, face turning crimson and cock heavy in his hand. He was standing immediately, his office chair banging into the wall behind him as he pulled his pants back into place. You had one hand covering your eyes as you fumbled around on the floor trying to grab the takeout container. Once you found it, eyes still covered, you got up and walked straight into the doorframe. You apologized to it, then left the room red in the face.

“Y/N, wait.” You halted in your tracks just outside the doorway at John’s words. He made a mad dash towards you still fumbling with his pant zipper. His ear buds ripping out in his rush causing them to come loose from the computer.

The sounds of your loud moans and skin slapping rang through his office. Why the hell did he have the volume up so high? John dove for the mouse as he panicked and tried to pause the video. The still frame pausing on him pulled out and cumming on your stomach. It only made him cringe more to see his own face twisted in pleasure.

“Is that us?” You were back in the doorway staring at him. He just stared back at you gobsmacked. Your face was unreadable as you walked over to his desk. He tried to stand in the way so you couldn’t get to his computer but you pushed him lightly to the side to get a look. His heart was beating faster than he ever thought possible as he prepared for you to unleash a rage unimaginable to any man. He was praying to the high heavens to be snatched up and spat out in the trenches of war.

“I-uh.” John couldn’t find words at the moment. He had never been so embarrassed in his life. Being caught with his pants down and desperately fucking his fist like some teenage boy.

“Oh, that is us. I thought you were watching porn.” Your voice was laced with mischief as you moved around him and sat in his chair. John was still stunned and not sure how to act. Averting his eyes to the takeout container sitting on the coffee table.

“I mean-“ Again, John couldn’t get a full sentence out. He was watching porn it just happened to be one you two made together. His gaze fell back on you as you started the video over and turned the volume down to a reasonable level. John’s cock twitched in his pants as he watched you become engrossed by the homemade film. Lounging back in his chair, teeth sinking into your bottom lip and cheeks flushing. You looked even better now in your blue jeans and cropped tshirt than on screen.

“Remember when we made this?” You asked tilting your head slightly to the side to get a better angle. John stood there, shifting slightly in discomfort as his cock fought against the confines of his jeans.

“Now, that’s a fun position!” You giggled eyes fixed on your two naked forms rolling around in the sheets. You weren’t looking for a response as you turned to look at your rosy cheeked husband. You could tell he was still embarrassed and not sure what to do. He was thinking you were mad at him and you knew that. John wasn’t a man who took embarrassment well, he usually turned into a bumbling fool. So you decided to take some pity on the poor man.

Batting your eye lashes up at him you reached out and and tugged him by his belt loop. The fact he was jerking off to a video of you two had your stomach doing flips. A wet pool flooding your panties as you heard his guttural grunts as he pounded into you on screen. Little did he know that video had kept you company when he was gone overseas. Only difference was you had it on your phone while for him it lay forgotten on a flash drive.

John didn’t move until you tugged his belt loop harsher. Once he was close enough you were undoing his belt. The sound of you two going at it in the back spurring you on. It was the part where John was fucking you missionary and you could see John’s eyes bouncing between you and the screen. You wanted to hear his grunts and moans from what you were doing to him now not back then.

“You’re not upset?” His voice was shaky as he watched your hands yank his jeans and boxers down, freeing his large cock. It sprung out and you instantly stuck out your tongue letting it fall against it. You licked the bead of precum leaking out, making your husbands breath ragged.

“Would I be doing this if I was upset?” You grinned devilishly as you rolled his office chair closer. Grasping his heavy length you looked up watching John’s eyes go wide as you spat on him and spread it around his head and length. You littered gentle kisses from the base to the head and took his heavy cock in your mouth, bobbing eagerly. Then pulling his foreskin down you sucked on the head like a lollipop. The groan he released was from deep in his chest. Staying like that for awhile you felt a sense of pride wash over you as your husband chose to look down at you instead of your home movie. It spurred you on to take as much of him in your mouth as you could. Your hand wrapped around what you couldn’t fit and your other massaging his balls firmly just how he liked.

“Fuck, you’re too good to me.” John’s voice was gravely his eyes flickering between you and the video playing now. Your mouth was tight around his throbbing member and you bobbed your head fast not giving him a chance to even think.

“I’m already close, love.” John was ready to burst. You had walked in right before he was able to finish making him much more sensitive. The feeling of your wet mouth sucking him tight and being so eager to please had his eyes rolling to the back of his head. in that moment he swore he’d never felt anything so good. You doubled your effort excited to make him come undone so quickly. It was an ego boost and had you happily choking yourself on him. Your gags joining the sound of skin slapping had John seeing stars. A stream of drool dripped from your chin and onto your tshirt. You removed your hands and placed them on his hips as you tried to fit every inch in your hot mouth. The action had Johns jaw going slack as he felt his orgasm about to rip through him.

“May I?” John was fixing your hair into a messy ponytail. Looking through your eyelashes you hummed in approval. Squeezing his balls for emphasis. John’s cock twitched in your mouth as he began to shallowly thrust down your throat. Letting you adjust to his impressive length. The thickness stretching your mouth so wide it almost didn’t fit.

His pace picked up when you tugged on his belt loops to encourage him. Between the noises of you moaning his name from the computer and the way you kept eye contact with him as he fucked your pretty mouth, he was done for. Releasing a harsh breath through his nose John rutted against your face then ending with a few harsh thrusts until he spilled himself down your throat. Tugging your hair tight as he pushed you fully down, making you take him fully down your throat. Your nose met his pelvis, the office chair rolling forward slightly as you squeezed your eyes shut. John grunted and babbled out how much he loved you as he continued to cum in strong waves.

You placed your hands on his thighs bracing yourself as you accommodated for his length. You knew your throat would be sore tomorrow but you didn’t care. Sputtering and choking as tears pricked the corners of your eyes you stared up at your loving husband. John’s hot cum was chocking you more as you tried to swallow it all. There was so much it began to leak down your chin joining the mess on your shirt. You were beginning to feel a little light headed from the lack of air as you continued to gag around your husbands cock. Your eyes widened when you realized he wasn’t going soft.

“So fuckin’ good to me.” John praised, thumb grazing your cheek bone lovingly as you swallowed again. John kept himself fully down your throat as he tried to sear the sight of you like this in his memory. Removing his hands from the back of your neck and hair you pulled off with a harsh gasp trying to catch your breath. His cock still standing at full attention only a few inches from your flushed face.

“You alright darling?” John was leaning down to kiss your cheek sweetly, still catching his breath. Grabbing a tissue and wiping the drool and cum from your chin he then pulled his pants back into place. He always checked on you after moments like this. One of his biggest fears was accidentally hurting you because he didn’t understand his own strength.

“Uh huh.” You giggled breathlessly. Your throat burning in an unpleasant way. Whipping your chin with the back of your hand you eyes flickered down to the obvious bulge in his jeans. John couldn’t help but chuckle as he reached around you and paused the video.

“We should make a sequel.” You suggested spinning slightly in the office chair.

“No idea where that tripod went.” John chuckled giving you his hand as you stood in front of him. Lustful eyes meeting as you ran your hand over his neatly groomed facial hair.

“Little POV shot on your phone might be fun.” The words barley left your swollen lips before a shocked squeal was forced out of you. John bent down grasping your hips firmly and threw you over his shoulder with ease.

“Better get to it then.” With a firm smack to your ass John was heading for the bedroom.

#captain john price #GOING FERAAAALLL

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gomzreblogs · 2 years ago

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same, been trying to find back that one fic where reader gives Simon kisses as a sweet alternative/reward instead of smoking and then Simon just fucking dies (I mean throwing away those cigarette box immediately and kiss reader more)

ITS THE SAME WITH FANART TOO cuz sometimes artist dont tag their post and i cANT FIND BACK THAT ONE ART where it was like "johnny dont leave me you'll said you love me forever" angst art with ghostsoap ASKDJAHKDJAH

You ever get so mad trying to find a fanfiction you read ages ago that you end up crying? No? Just me? (Please help me)

#cod fanfic #simon ghost riley x reader

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gomzreblogs · 2 years ago

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high

He whips his head around when he hears nis name, eyes half-lidded. He stumbles over towards Johnny, then leans on him, placing most of his body weight onto Johnny. You stare straight at him, slightly confused. “Oi, who’s this li’l bird then?” he slurs. Johnny stills, eyes flicking towards yours, his mouth agape. In a flash, he slams his hand over his mouth, trying to stifle a laugh.

simon is high off his ass from anesthesia and you have to deal with him. (does this count as a sick trope?? idk)

(asks are open)

happy reading

warnings: none

You didn’t know your boyfriend was coming back home tonight until you heard a hard knock on the door. The sun had already set long ago, you were settled on the couch with a good book and a cup of your favorite drink. You were forced out of your focus by a hard knock at the door. Immediately, you perk up, a little confused on who’s knocking this late in the evening. Setting your book down, you make your way to the front door. For a moment, you hesitate, and decide to peek out the window before opening the door just in case. Imagine the surprise on your face when you see Simon and Johnny standing outside the door. In a flash you’re at the door and throw it open in one swift movement.

“Johnny?” you say, bewildered. Johnny has, what you presume to be, Simon’s bag of belongings slung over his shoulder. Your eyes dart back and forth from Johnny to Simon, who’s standing a few feet behind him looking at some nonexistent thing out in the distance.

Before you can say anything, Johnny strides up to you, leaning down to whisper to you.

“Lassie, listen here, he jus’ had a medical procedure done an’–”

Your face immediately morphs into concern.

“What?”

“He was stabbed durin’ the mission. But there was a medical procedure done, stitches n’ all.

The color drained from your face. “W- what–,” you take a deep breath trying to steady your racing thoughts.

“No, no, don’t worry, he’s fine now, he’s just high off the anesthesia…”.

You nod your head at Johnny, mentally preparing to deal with this high behemoth of a man. You look over Johnny’s shoulder and simply say, “Simon.”

“Oi, who’s this li’l bird then?” he slurs.

Johnny stills, eyes flicking towards yours, his mouth agape. In a flash, he slams his hand over his mouth, trying to stifle a laugh.

Confusion washes over you, your eyebrows raised as Simon wriggles his eyebrows at you.

“I–”

Before you could say anything, Simon gives you the most goofy, silly, suave-looking grin, like he’s trying to flirt with you. You immediately regret looking back at Johnny, as his face is now contorted into something that looks like pain from trying not to laugh. That sight itself nearly makes you laugh, so much so that you have to bite the inside of your cheek to keep quiet. You try to put on your most serious face while Johnny is trying to compose himself by taking a deep breath.

“A’right, Simon, here ya are,” Johnny squeaks out. You eye Simon wearily, worried about how severe his condition is just from seeing how completely out of it he looks.

Johnny steps to the side, moving his arm to gently push Simon inside your shared apartment. Simon stumbles forward into you, nearly knocking you over because of his physique. You gasp, trying to find your footing as he leans his body weight on you.

“Oh, sorry lovie,” Simon rasps, grabbing your shoulders tightly as he stands himself up straight. Well, he looks kinda lopsided. He dusts your shoulders off as if he dirtied them, then squeezes your arms gently before pulling away. Johnny is trying not to laugh, your face flustered even more.

Johnny had followed you inside, motioning to the bag he still had slung over his shoulder, an amused expression present on his face.

“I’mma leave this here. It’s all of Simon’s belongins’.” You watch as he sets it down on the kitchen counter.

“Thank you, Johnny. I appreciate you looking out for him,” you smile warmly, grabbing his hand and squeezing it.

“Ay, it's nothin’. I’ll be in contact with ya,” Johnny nods to you, smirking playfully at you for a moment, eyes darting between you and Simon. “Alrigh’, I’m leavin’ lassie. Good luck.” He wiggles his eyebrows at you one more time before pulling the door shut.

You move to lock the door behind him, sighing as the lock clicks. You turn back to look at Simon, leaning on the front door.

“How are you feeling?”

He looks you up and down, unmoving from where he is standing. Save for the slight swaying of his body.

“‘M fine,” he grunts out quickly. “You’re very pretty, aren’t ya love?” his cheeks are flushed.

You push yourself off the door and move towards him, stopping a few feet away. You look straight into his eyes, and giggle out, “Thank you, Simon.”

He looks confused for a moment, mouth opening and closing, but tries to act suave. You think it's just the cutest thing that he’s just flirting with you like you’ve never met. You smile to yourself, knowing you’re going to have so much fun teasing him about it when the anesthesia wears off. Taking Simon’s hand in yours, you tenderly usher him further inside towards the kitchen. Dropping his hand, you go to pull out a water bottle and some painkillers that he is definitely going to need when he wakes up in the morning. He shuffles behind you on his unsteady feet, following you like a shadow. You turn around with the items in your hand, using your free hand to grab Simon’s hand once more. He immediately tenses at your touch, but he doesn’t let go.

“C’mon, big guy,” you say, guiding him through the hallway slowly enough so he can walk in a straight line. He stumbles a few times, murmuring nonsense to himself, eyes trained on the floor in front of him as he shuffles his feet.

He stumbles a few times, prompting you to resort to slinging his arm over your shoulder, carrying the brunt of his weight as you move down the hallway. He leans on you, breathy chuckling escaping, vibrating against your body.

“Yer too short for your own good, bird,” he slurs, chuckling at the sight of you trying to maneuver him.

“Ah, well, nothing I can do about it,” you giggle.

He doesn’t say anything, just lets out a small “Heh.” You assume he’s too gone to even respond properly.

You kick open your shared bedroom door, much to his surprise.

“Oi, take me out to dinner first lovie,” he looks down at you with a lopsided grin, hair tousled and wild.

“You’re a rascal, Si,” you huff, an amused smile creeping up on your face. “Let’s lay you on the bed, okay?”

He nods quickly, pushing you off him in an attempt to walk by himself. You watch him take a few steps, eyeing him carefully as you set down the water bottle and medicine on the bedside table. You turn the bedside lamp on, casting a soft golden glow in the room.

“Simon, hold on.” You turn to him, gently pushing him down to sit on the edge of your shared bed. He shifts his position until his back hits the headboard, eyes half-lidded and cloudy.

“Eh, pushy aren’t ya? Y’know, really, a dinner would be nice, love.”

You smile, shaking your head. Kneeling on the bed next to him, you take the water bottle and place it softly into his hands. “You should probably drink some of that. I’ll be right back.”

You push yourself off the bed, making your way into the bathroom to wet a warm towel to clean his face and body.

You come back through the door frame only to see him trying to get off the bed, feet planted on the floor, unsteadily pushing himself to standing. He takes a few wobbly steps towards you, smirking with his eyebrows raised.

“No, no, lay back down,” you protest, gently trying to push him back towards the edge of the bed.

“No, I just wanna say, bird, you and I, we should really go out sometime, y’know,” he looks at you with a serious expression on his face, placing his hands on his hips.

You look up at him, mouth open, the corner of your lip perking up into a bewildered smile.

“Oh my god, Si,” you laugh. “Okay, okay, but only if you sit down and drink some water,” you say firmly, crossing your arms over your chest, feigning frustration.

His smile is huge. God, it makes your heart flutter seeing him smile like this, like there's nothing else in the world that matters.

He sits back down on the bed, moving back to rest up against the headboard. He places his hands behind his head, an exaggeration of himself relaxing.

“Simon, I need to take your shirt off…” you trail off, motioning to the wet towel in your hand, already having an inkling of what he’s going to say back to you.

“D’ you now,” settling back into the bed, the biggest smirk you’ve ever seen crosses his face. “Well, bird, you've certainly got a way with words. Can't say I've met someone as bold and direct as you before.”

You look at him, open mouthed.

“If yer speechless now, wait ‘til you see what's under my shirt,” he says matter of factly, slurring the words.

You couldn't help but smile at his bold comment, finding his charm and mischievous confidence strangely attractive. His garbled statements just contributed to the situation's humor.

You try to compose yourself by raising an eyebrow and responding, “Oh, is that so? You've certainly sparked my interest now.”

“Mhmmm,” he draws out, hands fumbling with the hem of his shirt, trying his best to tug it off his frame. His smirk widens, and he leans in closer, his voice dropping to a low, teasing tone. “Darlin’', you have no idea what you're in for.”

“Simon, now is not the time,” you giggle. You reach forward, pulling him from resting on the headboard so you can help maneuver his shirt off his body. His skin is burning hot under your touch. When it finally slips off his form, with much struggle, you huff, placing it on the bedside table.

You kneel on the edge of the bed next to him, grasping the warm towel tight as you begin to rub off any grime or dirt from his rough skin. As your touch caresses his skin, he shivers at the sensation, a subtle but noticeable reaction to your careful ministrations.

A soft smile dances across your lips as you notice his reaction. You lean in closer, your voice filled with tenderness and affection, “Ticklish, are we?”

He chuckles, a deep rumble resonating across the air. “Just a bit, love.”

As you examine his hands, you notice their calloused texture, a testament to his tough being. You treat them delicately, soothing weary muscles and offering brief tranquility.

He sighs blissfully, his gaze locked on you, an unconscious expression of thanks and appreciation traveling between you. Taking care of his needs becomes a subtle gesture of love and dedication.

Finally, as you finish wiping away the last traces of dirt, you lean back slightly and examine his cleansed face. It now has a new luster to it, emphasizing the attractive elements that drew you in all that time ago.

“Thank you, bird,” he says as his fingertips brush over your cheek. You swear he’s almost cognizant, the way his fingers touch you.

You respond to his touch with a delicate kiss on his hand, your heart fluttering. “Always, Si.”

A devious light twinkles in his eyes as he looks into yours. “You know, love, I must confess that being pampered by such lovely hands has me feelin' a l'il spoiled,” he adds with a teasing grin.

You rub your hand over his shoulder, massaging it slightly as your other hand moves to stow the towel away. You turn to the lamp, hand hovering over the button before you click it off.

“Ok, it’s time to sleep now, ‘kay?” you murmur, gingerly laying him down on his pillow. “Close your eyes.”

“You don’t have t’ tell me twice,” he chuckles, dragging you down with him. You’re careful to stay away from his injury, shifting slightly in his grasp. As the fatigue sets in, his eyelids begin to droop, weighted down by the day's exhaustion. His breathing grows slower and more steady, creating a beautiful lullaby that permeates the room.

You watch, affectionately, as his features soften and his face relaxes into a serene expression. You move closer, snuggling into his good side, your hand comes to rest on his chest. He automatically draws closer to you, seeking refuge in your embrace.

His body relaxes fully as he succumbs to sleep's embrace, feeling safe and comfortable in your arms. You hug him softly yet firmly, savoring this private moment of vulnerability and trust.

You take sanctuary in the solace with each passing moment, savoring the weight of his body against yours, the rise and fall of his chest, and the softness of his breath against your skin. You gently trace your fingers through his hair, lulling him deeper into a deep slumber.

You continue to hold him until sleep takes him entirely, your love and dedication wrapping him like a warm, safe blanket. In this quiet time, you take comfort in the mere act of being together, knowing that you both greatly savor the time you spend together.

And as you begin to nod off, you take comfort in the knowledge that tomorrow will bring new moments that you'll cherish together. But for the time being, you appreciate the tranquility of the night, cradling him in your arms and savoring the calm of this shared sleep.

#simon ghost riley x reader

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gomzreblogs · 2 years ago

Note

imagine one of the Fem! rookies getting lil skeleton hands tattooed on her hands, and ghost just-

*INSTANT BONER*

Summary: Ghost can’t help but be turned on when he notices the Recruits’ new tattoos. Pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley/Reader

Genre: One-shot, request(s) Word count: 1,138

Warnings: Mature rating, mention(s) of sexual acts.

A/N: Ooh, I had fun with this one, Anon. Was tempted to turn it into a full fic, but figured I’d be an asshole and tease y’all since I write tons of smut otherwise. Whoops! Anywho, thank you so much for the request, Anon. I hope y’all enjoy it~ Also, I apologize if this has a lot of mistakes. I’ve been slammed with allergies, mental stuff, and work, so I’m all sorts of fucked lol. ( Gif credit: xxx )

Ghost paid little mind to most of the rookies they trained. At least, he had before until he'd met you a few months back. Price had mentioned to 141 he was interested in possibly having each of them bring some new recruits under their wing to help show them the ropes. He figured if anyone could get any of them ready, it'd be his boys. Each of them eventually had someone signed to them to help train. Ghost's recruit certainly was interesting, to say the least.

John had figured with Ghost being more reserved than the rest of the group, it might be easier if he had a recruit that kept to themselves more than the rest. He was thankful for that. The less he had to worry about babysitting, the better. Thankfully, that never seemed to be the case with the recruit Price had assigned to him.

You went by the call sign Mouse.

At first, he'd assumed it was for your small stature, but after he'd heard whispers from the others, he quickly realized it was due to your specialty for silence and speed. Apparently, you were just as quiet as you were quick in your fieldwork. That he could appreciate. Yet, aside from that, he didn't know much about you even after weeks of training together.

Aside from learning the truth behind your call sign, he'd also come to notice that - surprisingly - you were covered in numerous tattoos.

Every time the two of you sparred together, he found himself discovering a new tattoo he hadn't seen before or a blank spot that had yet to be filled with ink.

Eventually, somewhere around the two-month mark, he found himself asking you about them after a successful session. You'd finally managed to break out of a particular grapple you were struggling with thanks to the size difference between you two. However, Ghost refused to relent until you'd gotten the hang of it. Your enemies wouldn't play fair if they towered over you, so he had to prepare you for any sort of outcome to give you the best chance of survival possible. Still, that didn't mean he was so strict as to not celebrate the small victories.

As the two of you were hydrating after training, he'd found it in him to comment on your tattoos for whatever reason.

"Noticed you had a blank spot there." He'd comment, glancing down at the blank space of flesh on your hands. It'd surprised him to see your arms covered yet you still had yet to choose something for them. Maybe you didn't care for hand tattoos, he wondered...

"Have any plans for 'em?"

You paused in bringing your water bottle to your lips, pursing them as you hummed softly. Seemingly debating on how to answer his question.

"Mm, yeah... I've got a few ideas in mind for them, but have yet to settle on anything yet."

He was content to leave it at that had it not been for your next response.

"I've got a few ideas in mind but haven't settled on anything just yet. Tell you what though, when I do get those spots filled in, you'll be the first one I show them to."

By the time that'd happened, it'd been a few months later and he'd pretty much forgotten the interaction until he'd bumped into you again on his way out for a smoke break. You'd stopped to say hi and chat for a bit before he suddenly saw your eyes widening. A giddy smile broke out on your face shortly afterward.

"Oh, I nearly forgot!" Raising the sleeves of your long sleeve top, you also quickly rid yourself of those pair of gloves he often saw you wearing. "Check out the new tattoos I got while I was back home."

With your forearms and hands bare to him, he could see the fresh, black ink now covering the spaces on your appendages that previously clear soft skin.

The moment he realized what the tattoos were, Simon was thankful for the strait-laced control of his reactions. Certain if he wasn't so strict with himself that he'd be giving off numerous micro-expressions showing his interest in your new pieces.

Of all the tattoos you had to get, it just had to be a stylistic representation of your wrists and hands skeletal system.

Rationally, he understood that the new set of ink likely had no meaning behind it - most of his own didn't - but a smaller, possibly more primal part of him wanted to puff up his chest. Preen at the thought of everything you could have chosen, it was something similar to the gloves he often wore himself. Only much more permanent. And attractive.

Fucking hell, he was down bad over something that meant nothing at all.

Just so he didn't break down and smile, Ghost took a long and deep drag of his cigarette before exhaling the entirety of the smoke from his lungs. Watching the vapors dissipate entirely before finally having it in him to look at you once again.

"How'd you do during the fingers and knuckles?"

You laughed sweetly and softly, causing him to feel an odd sense of pride in being the cause behind that laughter. Especially when he took notice of the way your cheeks appeared even softer and rounder than usual as you did so.

Eyes down, soldier. Look at the tattoos, not her damn squishable cheeks.

Watching you wiggle your fingers in his direction, you grinned up at him cheekily.

"Pain comes with the territory. Besides, I kinda enjoy that type of pain, and it's also a hell of a lot cheaper than therapy." You joked.

Simon felt like a pitiful man when he felt the familiar stirring of arousal deep within his lower belly shortly after. His mind already drifting towards mental images of you down on your knees before him. Opening his pants just so you could wrap those tattooed fingers around the base of his cock. Stroke him till he grew hard and began to twitch within your palms. Eventually - given your permission - he'd paint the dark ink with his release, claiming you in a way and--

He needed to stop his thoughts before he began to spiral down the rabbit hole that was his sudden lewd thoughts that came on with your new tattoos.

He was going to need another cigarette as soon as he finished his first one.

Clearing his throat, Simon glanced at you with dilated, bright eyes.

"They look good on you, kid."

Even if he wouldn't admit it aloud, Ghost secretly saw it as a secret bond between the two of you.

Now, you had a permanent mark of his favorite pair of gloves on your body.

The thought alone turned him on much more than he'd ever thought possible.

#simon riley x reader

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gomzreblogs · 2 years ago

Text

NITIMUR IN VETITUM

(we strive for the forbidden)

pairing: alpha!price x omega!reader (fem reader)

word count: 4k+ words

tags and warnings: MDNI, mature, omegaverse, angst, fluff, use of love and darling, badly written plot, a lot of writing i didnt think through, no smut but maaaayyybe implied in the end?

a/n: dedicated to @frogchiro (and also thank you) for being such a lovely person and lovingly allowed me to write theirs, and their anons idea for an omegaverse for price, and send support my way 😭, truly wouldnt have done it if it weren't for them being so nice 🥺.

So, you're an idiot.

An idiot who had assessed that when one wakes up in cold sweat, out of breath, and the tiny sting of the dots in your vision make it clear that something was wrong, you ignore it.

Not nearly a quarter hour later, you wake again with the incessant stabbing of the distinct knife that twists at your head, and find yourself reaching for your help.

An idiot in pain nonetheless, you acquiesce, as you sigh for what seems to be the nineteenth time of the night, pain curling into your very mind as you desperately try to find your phone you normally set on your nightstand. Yet it is not there, and the only thing that sat was the night lamp and a pile of papers, scent blocking salves, along with a couple of small labeled empty bottles of aspirin that you'd never bothered to throw out.

As far as medicine goes, you know it's definitely not normal— the amount of pills and whatever chemical it is made from you've taken in these recent months. Definitely not normal, too, were your small headaches, which you've used to sleep off, have now grown into full blown migraines, and the restlessness as the pain seeps into you, not letting up for once even as you massage your temples in hopes to ease it just a little.

You're stubborn, on that end.

Not much, you found, makes you buckle your knees and raise the silky white flag over the dark trenches of war—always preferring to grit your teeth and coat your knuckles in brass metal, dipping the balmy hands into the red liquid that runs down on your nightmares.

(You never cowered from those. Accept it, even, when your loose lip murmurs it in moments you share with John.)

And oh, John Price.

His mere presence has made your tongue turn to lead inside your mouth, The imprint of his scent curling just into your very core, bones, and it burns and scorches and you can’t breathe. Your skin had ached at his touches, but your expression had given nothing away.

Still, he often lingered, sometimes maybe a touch far longer than necessary, and you couldn’t help but fear that maybe you'd get attached, taped to him by some sort of an allure driven by a deeper instinct that whispers to your inner self adamantly.

But you are nothing to him. A sergeant, comrade, a friend, maybe. Someone who had stretched their hands out for company, normalcy and warmth in the midst of harsh winter that you've nigh frozen from. And yet—

(The aching desire that festers past the ribs, and through the heart does not falter, and you tug it back down and lock it in chains, as if it had done a crime in the vast specks of dust of the universe.)

He smells of suede, musk, and aged alcohol that slowly simmers at the back of your throat. A scent you've long come to love, long come to know. Tobacco lingers in his breath, and he oozes warmth when he settles next to you, Cigar still between his scarred, swollen lips and he removes it slowly, almost a tease, as his free hand comes to rest against his thigh. He peers at you intently; as though he can see your very core, and you find yourself biting your cheek as his scent seeps through, clogging your nose and making you yearn. He makes you surrender without even trying.

(But there is an invisible boundary you will never risk stepping over for, lest your relationship with him crumbles, so you stab your heart and rip it anew.)

Migraines, however, is not one you admit to have seen yourself battling and losing to before.

In hindsight, you admit, as you'd long been the professional of masking the way your incessant little hands was tugging at the frayed ends of the threads of your sanity that you've gripped tightly— wanting to be taken care of. Wanting, to have someone. You've long tied it and sent it to the void, hoping it may never arise again.

You've done simply the same thing to your pains—physical pains.

The torturous nagging of your head, the throbbing ache in your very brain was easy to hide, for the most part. Being stubborn had allowed you some leeway into doing so; flimsy excuses of being distracted, and allowing your mind to think of anything else other than the pain of your headache trying to crack your skull open. Wry smiles and dark humour shared to keep them from noticing. It was fine, until—

Are you alright, love?

Never better, captain.

—Till he calls you, eyes gazed into your own, brows knitted into a tight furrow as he speaks of ash and smoke, as his jaw tenses at your words, at the mere blatant lie told to him—but he doesn’t oppose you. Only looks at you. You fight the primal instinct to confess.

Now, the bottles weren't what caught your eye. What sticks out was the very noticeable shine of the glass tube that used to be prefilled with something, sitting on the edge, mocking you, almost. You stare at it for a few more seconds, contemplating, and with a sigh, you get up and move out of the warm blankets, feet slowly padding through the corridor as you move through the hall.

It's dark out, the once light filled halls of your safehouse now curtained in the shadows of the night, nestled between comfortable and undeniably creepy, tense. You couldn't care less right now, however, as you try (and fail) to smoothly maneuver around your halls and to the living room, in search of your phone.

You'd left it somewhere around there back in the afternoon, too tired to bother as you just allowed your mind to blank out, canvas it into nothing else but the mundane days of being a civilian. The want to sleep and relax, overwhelming every fiber of your being in times like these, to not run and having to worry of the beguiling sense of being chased.

The slow seep of regret slowly comes to your peripheral—regret that you threw it somewhere on the couch, or possibly the table—when you give up and flick the lights on, a huff escaping you as the twinge of pain hits you for another time. The slow pain that had said it’s greetings to you earlier curls at your brain once again, hitting you sharply, before it starts to maintain a constant in your being, and you find yourself getting more annoyed by the second.

Stupid migraine.

You wouldn't have gone through all of this trouble in the first place if it wasn't for that. Really, all this time that should have gone to sleeping and rest and—

Where is it? You think, as you bend over and scour the dust and beyond for a semblance, a mere glimpse of the gadget. Another twinge of pain incites you, this time coupled with a concerning dizziness that simmers across your vision, one that was very easy to ignore when it hits just as the same time your eyes land on the sleek, rectangle object that you've been so desperately looking for.

A short cheer of joy hits you, before you scroll through the contacts quickly and see the name just below of the person you were supposed to call, and you pause, tempted.

Price.

Something clenches around your heart, your spine, dragging you back at the very bottom of your gaping heart at the sight of the name in front of you in bold letters.

John who is a comforting presence for you to curl into. Who is a steady, burning, ever-present being staying, lurking beneath the azure horizon. John is—

A fire. Meant to torch you, and leave you into nothing but ashes. The very same man who threatens to leave you ruined for others.

(Definitely ruined, already.)

A natural leader— an alpha.

You haven’t seen him since—

Since the night you've touched down after the tremulous mission, intense eyes that latch onto you, brows furrowing deeply in thought.

—A week ago.

If you'd call him, he would answer. You know he would, and it would be his concern knit between tight strings of badly kept professionalism and chuffed out gruffness that would first greet you when you say a mere hello to him in the middle of the night, asking if everything was okay. Price would answer, because he had promised, as you did the same to him when the two of you chatted in the pub he had dragged you out to, jaw clenched in between amused and something else as you steal his hat with a smile.

So you do. You tap the call sign that screeches at your eyes in a green, bright color, hand swiftly moving the phone to your ear, balance becoming unsteady.

"Hello?" A voice greets. But it's not Price— you never did manage to drag your fingers just slightly below Laswell's name to call him.

"Laswell, Hi." You start, cautious to begin the conversation that you've been dreading. "I wasn't sure who else to call."

Stagnancy. Static fills your ears, and then there's an immediate shift into concern on her side when you let your words out.

Maybe this was a bad idea—

"What happened?" It's a simple question, But one thing about you is that you dislike telling others of whatever situation you may be in— feelings, included, forcing it out of the grave at the very last second instead.

A reminder, again, that you've always been good at ignoring your inner needs.

Today is simply the consequences coming back to you in full.

You make a weak noise in response to her words, the numb feeling etching into your brain forcing you to sit down into the couch, trying to give yourself a breath— a respite, though however little. But there's something very, very wrong, when you can barely hear Laswell on the other end, and you find your vision dimming by the second.

"I think," you murmur. "Something's wrong with me."

No shit, Sherlock.

"Nothing too extreme," you add weakly, hoping it might ease her a little. "Just, might be the meds, I don't know."

A shaky breath—deep from the furthest reaches of your lungs—escapes, joining the air around you and your eyes slip shut again.

Your consciousness inside of you begins to crumble, and you don't even get to hear her response before you allow yourself to succumb to the dark.

You wake not hours later, and the doctor gives you a tired sigh as she gives you a stern look, something you’ve come to fear when you tried leaving just a few moments ago.

The smell of medicine clogs your nose, and you have to hold the urge to scrunch up in response— uncomfortable, and it makes you drunk with the want to engulf the room to a more calm scent.

Laswell sits right next to you, eyes lingering on your form in concern.

A silent call out, her eyes. It makes you wither away almost, your inner moon wanting to apologize for the distress you've caused. Instead, you give a sheepish smile, hoping it would fix everything.

It doesn't, and Laswell only sighs.

The doctor leaves not an hour of lecture about your wellbeing you've very nearly destroyed, and, despite it all, there’s a space growing inside your heart—emptiness expanding too quickly for you to fix. The suppressors were no longer an option to use to patch that void, but your inner insticts cries happiness at it, though you want to say otherwise.

Laswell is nice. Good. One of the few people you've known to have often always keeps calm under tight situations, and you know you've dug yourself into a deep hole when she calls you out.

"Two years," She says, massaging her temples from the information she's having trouble understanding. "Of you taking double of your prescribed intake of the heat suppressors. Two."

You wince. "I'm fine, really—"

She raises a brow, and you clamp your mouth shut. Her eyes pierce into your own, and you know she means well.

But you were a soldier, carved from the edges of the mountain remains, and refined into a hardened piece, edges sharp and blade in your hand. You had a job to do first. A role. Pretend that your want to be broken apart, wretched open and crushed into dust by the tethers of the storm and engulfed by the luxury of leather that seeps into your senses whenever he lingers is not there.

Pretend the liquid you so almost died to did something in curbing the wanton need of your inner moon desperate to get marked by the touch of disaster, the scorching heat of cigar and smoke—

Laswell sighs, and her eyes flicker to you. She gives you a tiny, almost understanding smile. It's calming. "Get some rest. You should be out by the morning."

You silently thank her for not pushing it further.

You learn very quickly that you have a fast approaching problem on your hands.

You can't use heat suppressors anymore.

The bleak British weather does not seem to surprise you anymore— often always mud upon clouds of gray and streaks of blue, and the steady trickle of rain that seems to always dampen one's mood ever so present like every other day.

What does surprise you, however, is the man standing across the parking lot.

Soft caramel, roasted coffee, the sunrise of that envelops you gently when you awake.

You call to him, as if his gaze wasn't already directed at you. You're quite far from him, a handful of steps away. "Gaz."

He makes a low, humming noise in his throat, acknowledgement of your greeting, a smile on his face.

"Laswell called, then?"

"You reckon I would be here if she didn't?"

He says that, but he looks almost relieved to see you. His hands buried deep in his pockets—his cap hiding him from the heat of the sun—he stands there, waiting patiently.

Your feet slowly moves you closer to him, and—

"Scared us, you know." He says, words treading between the sudden tick of his jaw and tensed muscles that gleam under the beads of sweat. As if he was trying not to say everything. "Laswell called us out of the blue, and with you not really responding to our texts..."

You avert your eyes.

Your throat feels dry as you search for something to say. None comes as easily as you'd hoped, so you simply resort to other methods instead.

“I’m fine,” you reassure him. But he can’t deny you. He can never deny you— Gaz was much too sweet for his own good. "Just a slight mishap, is all." you add instead, hoping it eases some of the initial knit of the brows that stitches on his face.

He regards you silently, knowingly. He doesn't press on, until—

"Price called, actually. Wanted me to make sure you were okay."

The wound hurts, blisters. A pause, and then:

It's barely there, yet it scratches the corners of your throat with pain. Selfishly, a silent, grateful noise comes out of you, because you wouldn't, couldn't imagine not resenting the way you stubbornly cling to him like a vine, a fool seeing the world in tinted glasses. See with your eyes how he looks at you with—

It's been just barely over a week, and yet here you are, starved and lost among the clouds of smoke and plume.

"He should have just came then."

It comes out before you can tug it back in, just when you'd gotten good at battling the urge to spew out the feeling that tugs at your throat.

You still, heart hammering in your chest with each passing second that flees out into the air. But bless him, he gives you one look of understanding, and he simply gestures to the vehicle he had most likely taken from Price, as if he hadn't heard anything.

“Ice cream?” he says briskly, diverting the topic as the heavy furrow of his brows telling a tale of his subtle worry he keeps at bay. “I remember I promise you during the trip to Sulu—”

A genuine smile leaves your lips. Thankful, that he’s always been good at reading the room.

"You did. And it's been a year since then, Kyle. Better be hell of a good ice cream."

Gaz laughs, and you relax just a tiny bit. Well, you’re due a break anyway.

Your first heat in a long while passes by quickly as it arrives, but its intensity was not one you had prepared for.

It's like a fervent dream, one that lifts you high up to the skies, miles away from the perturbation of the seas and the fire that burns steadily underneath the clouds.

No one taught you to fly, so try as you might with your newly regained wings— you fall, you crash into the fiery depths that await you. The heavens out of reach as you extend your hand to it.

(The stars gaze upon you and call you a sinner, a mocking smile as they watch you stand on the doors of the paradise for but a mere moment.)

So much for a painless first heat in ages.

Every night, you awaken from your feverish dreams with your skin slick with sweat and your aching want burning you from the inside out. And for hours after, you find the only way to suppress the raging fire in your veins is to submerge yourself in a tub of freezing water for at least half an hour. It is practically torture at this point, but—

You find it is better than losing to your own greed to pick up the phone and press the dainty contact that sits, and stares right back at you.

You shouldn't call. Shouldn't ask him—

Still, in your hazy, aching state, you hate how you can still smell his scent lingering like a mark, a tattooed stain in your being that just wouldn't vanish. How you can vividly see how his expression softens by a mere moment. He looks at you with more than eyes, speaks to you with more than just words.

You hate it, because it reminds you that there is nothing there. Nothing but a short string made from badly woven camaraderie.

(And you hate yourself more for wanting to call, knowing that it would simply be nothing out of wanting to help you that he would ever touch you.)

You sink yourself further into the bathtub, hoping that somehow, the ache that hums in you leaves with him.

Balancing a paintbrush between your fingers, you absentmindedly weave your hands through the air, the hairs of the brush meeting with the canvas— colors scraping against the cream white board.

It is your work, yet somehow you can't find yourself acknowledging it is yours. Streaks of color splattered on it, painting a picture of a woman who—

Your head lifts at the sound of your doorbell screeching into the four walls of the room, wayward mind getting reeled back into reality.

With a curiosity of a toddler's, you lower your instruments back onto your work table, and make your way down to your porch.

In one of your desks, an old picture sits by, you and —

John.

The mere thought of him coils your stomach into an uncomfortable ball of emotions, temporary peace that you had found bursting out into nothing but fond dreams.

He'd called once.

(A week after Laswell had graciously somehow given you a three-month worth of a leave when you tried to come back, a solemn smile on her face as she leaves you with no choice but to take it. You wouldn't have admitted it on the spot, but you were grateful for it.)

Perhaps Gaz had told him, with saccharine eyes that always look steady and forward, only looking back to make sure you were following. Such a thing would have made it easier when you picked up your phone and heard his voice through the static of your phone— but you know he wouldn't.

Paradise is not for you. Not for a sinner who has wandered off the path of redemption, and into the path of the underworld.

And there he was, asking you if you were okay— mere minutes of your time dilating into years, a supposed minute conversation turning into hours. Maybe it is pity— that he's indulging you in this, to wait until the two of you are out of things to speak, out of small talk to say to purposefully ignore the words stuck into your throat that slowly bleeds over the pages.

An unreachable aponia.

It had been another month since then.

Quiet pursuance of his presence fills you—Azure eyes that cast thunderous in the low lighting had met yours over and over, and the tang of tobacco that hangs around his bulky frame— none of these were in your apartment, and it feels like a ward more than a home instead.

(Sometimes, you wonder if he ever longs for you when you're not around.)

Your world is painted in the dull greys that ebb in the corners, cream whites and pitch blacks mixing together to create the monotone shades you've come to accept. Fire, bullets and losses. One you've come to know, to live with, but when it is him—

Visit me, when you have the chance.

…I can't, love. Shouldn't you be resting, instead, hm?

It’s better this way. Distance will do you good.

The soft padding of your steps are the only noises that circulate throughout your house, and it does little to curb the interest of whoever could be behind the door. Gaz, maybe. Soap, Ghost, even, but you not John.

Oh.

John follows behind you into your kitchen with that familiar, overly calm manner of his that never seems to waver, voice hoarse from the field being thrown into cement and asphalt. Shadows cast over him, and he looks more tired than you had seen him last as he nods his head towards the empty seat next to you in a silent thanks.

And this—

This, is new. Something delicate and out of his usual, clockwork ways he had stuck to. A break, a change of routine, and you're not sure how to react at all about the whole situation.

He fills your house by his presence without even trying— filling the corners of your four walls with the scent of suede, gasoline and crushed tobacco. It mixes with your own, and something saccharine settles in your belly; pleasant, and comforting, like a pile of clouds that sit there and you might just melt in it. Home.

(You’ve never considered your own apartment your home.)

Your lips twitch upwards slightly, and you lean back in your own seat, just across him. “Thought you said you wouldn't visit.”

Your greeting is cool, if barely polite. No reaction to the way you are both acutely aware of your own scents mingling leaves your mouth.

John slides smoothly into the seat in your kitchen peninsula, and his sapphiric eyes sweep over you once, a quiet assurance that he is, indeed, there. It's a warming gesture, a considerate one (albeit unintentionally) and the quiet, familiar lilt that sings to your heart is something you ignore.

The same, old tactics.

Something flickers in his eyes when the words leave you, a miniscule slip of emotion of something, and there is an edge to him that you're unfamiliar with. A scorching heat—his gaze—tickles against your skin and you watch his profile when he turns his gaze back to the scotch you’ve slid to him, your fingers itching to reach for him.

"I wasn't going to."

It's almost like he himself was flabbergasted if he even meant ever to say it out loud, by the way he looks almost like a fish out of the depths of the murky waters. But he had, and his head dips low in the dark, thinking.

A decision. An inexplicable boundary he had set, and the rejection that your inner wolf felt almost physically hurts. His stare on you is burning, charcoal tasting your lips as the silence grows. Yet despite his words, here he was, in your apartment, in your kitchen.

"Then why, John?" You fumble out the words, that foolish, little wolf that lives deep down begs for him to say something, a slither of hope to cling to as you drown in those eyes.

He leans back by just a bare inch, a slight huff escaping him as he tries to find the words. Unlike him, to skirt around the reason why as to why he had seeked you out. Hesitant. Perhaps he didn't want to stick the knife he had wedged into your heart even more deeply, as if regretting the very moment he had unconsciously done so back when he had so much as looked at you with such ferocity.

But then his eyes flash obsidian under the drowning thunder, and it's almost immediate realization, an epiphany—

The white knuckles that show against the light as he holds the glass of scotch. The way it takes almost all of him to hold himself from marking you right then and there, and why he hadn't, and had done everything—

Oh.

A knot forms in your chest. Your eyes squeeze shut and you breathe deeply, grinding your teeth. So you close the distance between you, greed has always been in favor of you as you demand a selfish, hungry, “Kiss me.”

He looks at you with such hunger, and yet—

"I want to,” he breathes, leaning so close you can feel the heat of his breath on your skin, feel the way he draws patterns where his scarred fingers linger over your jawline. A simple movement towards him would be enough, yet he remains impeccably still.

Price doesn't move. He doesn't, he holds you just enough to be yours but not enough to divulge you. “But you don't know what you're diving into, darling,” he whispers in a hushed breath and your expression screws up in pain as he pulls away, and he presses a kiss to your forehead, breathing deeply as if he could memorize the scent of you, and hold you in his lungs until you return.

(Price reminds you of the streaks of gray across a canvas. Simply there, but not like the saturated hues of the green and yellow and bright reds that flit through the board, catching your eye. He is—)

"You—You haven't been here when I was writhing, and wanting to be marked by you." You counter, savoring the surprise that passes his eyes. It takes him a second, before he huffs out, warm in mirth and something else. His lips twitch, his dark eyes warmer in your revelation, and he presses his mouth against the bare skin of your arm. His beard tickles the skin. You shiver.

You should have listened to the old saying to never wake the sleeping beast that lies dormant within.

He kisses your pulse, lingering. It wasn't yet enough, it seems, when he tugs you to him, hands on your waist as he tightens his grip further around you— a cage made of suede and hickory as you breathe him in. The powerful ripple of his chest and arm muscles hums against your body.

Price is no paradise— he is your perdition, carved from the stones and molten lava, hidden within the gray gasses and tephra that spews everywhere. His teeth burn your veins with fire when he makes his mark on your neck, and yet—

(—The man that carries the vibrant, colored world with him— A silent protector. The gray amongst the colors.

A woman painted in gray also reaches out, sharing the burden with him.)

The taste of his lips is saccharic.

#such a great and beautiful written fic #captain john price

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