#Captain Price x reader

[laceyfaeryy]

MDNI 18+

little rendezvous with older! retired john price

mentions of: cheating, vaginal sex, unprotected, john is a lil manipulator if you squint

it was no surprise that john moved on so quickly after his divorce, having a pretty thing under his arm the following week. some may say it was quick, too quick, that maybe, just maybe he cheated. though he justified it by saying that his marriage was loveless anyways, coming home to a cold angry wife made him spend countless nights at the bar, until a sweet thing like you came around. you batted your eyelashes at him, a sweet smile on your lips as you traced his rough stubble. he loved the thrill with you, it made him feel young.

it started off first as a distraction, taking a swig of his beer whilst having a pretty woman talk his ear off, not that he minded. after all, it was a nice change from his constantly irritated wife. you were always dolled up, pretty lashes and a nice gloss on your plump lips that made his eyes draft down every few seconds. he found himself addicted, he wasn’t a man that fell into temptation early, but having someone that showered him with affection and stared at him like he hung the stars in the night sky, it couldn’t help it.

john prides himself as a man with good morals, though that went down the drain six months ago when he took you back to his house before the divorce was even initiated.

“’m sweetheart, you feel so good.”

john groaned as his cock fits snugly into your cunt, your warm walls clenching around him as the bed creaked with each movement. usually, the two of you had your secrecy rendezvous in the shabby motel across the bar, though this time with his wife away for a work trip you were on his bed. guilt gnawed at the back of his head, his wife was blissfully unaware that her husband, her john was currently making love to another woman. your moans were muffled by his large hand, “quiet sweetheart, don’t wanna get caught do you?” it was a lie of course, though you believed every word he said when he told you that his wife was coming home any second just for the thrill. and here you were, so obedient, so quiet. it was a sick sick fantasy that john had, almost role playing as if he wanted to get caught.

“feel good?” you gasped when his hand finally moved, taking a big breath of air as you hiccuped slightly, your eyes slightly dazed as you stared at him. his cock swelled hearing your voice, so sweet, almost insecure and desperate for validation. “of course darlin’, you feel so fucking good,” he groaned as his cock abused your soppy hole, your arms wrapped around his neck pulling him in as he kissed your shoulder, your ankles digging into his lower back.

he knew it was wrong, god the thought of divorce was on his mind but he hasn’t even initiated it, meaning he was still, as of now a married man.

though he didn’t care, not when he found himself cooking breakfast for you that morning, something he never did to his wife. the slow mornings filled with lazy morning sex and cuddled before making you breakfast in bed greatly contrasted to the cold and silent mornings with his wife.

he filed for divorce the following week.

now, he proudly showed you off, his arm wrapped protectively around your waist despite the glares and whispers about his alleged infidelity. though he didn’t care, not when he had you by his side with his cum dripping down your inner thighs from your recent quickie.

[dumbbitchgalore]

Old Man!Price and his jealousy 💚

When John Price sees you grinning at your phone, he remains silent.

He merely observes.

Jaw clenched so tightly that you could see the muscle flex. Arms folded across his chest, and his shoulder braced against the doorway. Sharp, dark, and unblinking, his eyes are fixed on you as if he's looking directly at you. As if you were on a mission.

The air changes.

Thick and stifling tension settles down into the room, coiling its four corners. It's the seething type, not the shouting kind. Quiet, dangerous, and in control. That look is familiar to you. It has been observed in pre-raid briefing rooms. Prior to a killshot, in the field.

Just before a bomb goes off.

It isn't until your back hits the bed that you realise how quickly he has moved.

John throws you down like a doll, harsh but not reckless, knocking the air from your lungs in an instant. Heat, bulk, and shadow are all hovering above you. With barely controlled power, John’s fingers catch your panties, dragging them down your thighs, falling to the ground long forgotten in a mere seconds. 

With a low, raspy voice filled with a mixture of authority and need, John growls, "Legs up."

You follow orders mindlessly. Every nerve on fire, heart racing, knees apart. With a harsh hiss of leather, he drags his belt free and throws it aside as he steps between your thighs.

Lining himself up, John’s blunt cock head is slippery as it snags on your wet entrance, and murmurs, "Smile at him like that again. See what happens."

With a voice like smoke and gravel, he growls, "You think he could fuck you like this?" as he clenches his thick, hot cock and drags the head through your slippery folds. He's already hard, angry, hard, as if he's been suppressing his emotions ever since he saw that message appear on your computer. "A soft little prick in his twenties?"

When John repeats his bullying of your swollen clit, your body twitches and begins to writhe. His hand, powerful but not brutal, clamps down on your jaw as you attempt to speak.

"No." He narrows his gaze. "You only talk when I tell you to."

Then, in one forceful push, John’s cock buries himself in your weeping cunt 

John’s hands hold your hips so tightly that you will feel him there the next day as he hisses, "Christ, this tight little cunt… Do you believe he could manage this? Do you believe that he could fuck you through the mattress the way I do?”

At first, he fucks you deeply, slowly, and purposefully, as if he wants to appreciate the destruction. Then your hips start to buck. You scream. And he snaps in some way.

As John fucks into you more forcefully, grunting with each thrust, he leans over you and pins you to the mattress with one palm pressed down between your shoulder blades.

The room is filled with obscene, wet noises. Your body pounding into the covers, your breath catching on every stroke, your excitement coating his cock.

With perspiration streaming down his brow, he growls, "Tell me whose cunt this is." Rough fingers circle your clit as his hand slides between your thighs. 

John tuts, "Now, kid." 

“Y-yours, John! fuck, it’s yours!”

"That's right," he growls, fucking you more forcefully as the rhythm is harsh and unrelenting. "Mine. I will ensure that it remains mine. will penetrate you so deeply that you will still feel it tomorrow.

As your orgasm erupts in waves, you collapse first, your knees shaking, your mouth loose, your nails tearing at the covers. Your body clenches around him like a vice as it rips a sound from your throat that you were unaware you could produce.

As he follows, Price lets out a loud, guttural groan and slams in progressively deeper until he is flush to the hilt, his cock pulsating as he flows into you.

Hot. heavy. Never-ending.

Even after it's over, he remains there, breathing raggedly against your skin with his cock still twitching inside you as if he wants to fuck it in even more.

He raises his head at last, but his voice is gruff and low in your ear.

"I own you. Never again should you cause me to doubt that, birdie.”

You nod, stunned and crying because you needed it so much and it felt so amazing.

"I'm yours," you murmur, sleep weighing down your eyes. 

"Only ever yours."

[starboye]

imagine captain price who has to work overtime at the office doing paperwork but at least he has you, sat snugly on his lap clenching around him so tightly, he gives you a couple kisses along your neck and tells you he'll be done in a little

at this point it's been about two hours of him signing and checking files and you really needed him, rolling your hips on his laps every now and then to give him hints but every time he just tightly gripped your hip and told you to "sit still f'me darlin'"

it was getting so hard to stay sane when you had his thick cock planted inside you so well, you could see it bulging in your tummy a little bit, and him giving you kisses made it no better, only getting you needier and needier until you were whimpering for him to do anything to you

so look at you looking all pretty bent over his desk taking his fat cock to the hilt, pumping load after load into your tight hole, covering you in hickeys and marks and railing you until you were to fucked out to even think

price sitting you back on his lap and getting back to his work, giving you kisses to make sure you're still okay

[queerest-monster-luver]

I’m sick.

husband john price who goes to the end of the earth when his wife gets captured by an enemy group for leverage. husband john price who is still haunted by it, even when you’re back safe in his arms.

He doesn’t hear you come in.

Not over the silence. Not over the creak of leather beneath his elbows or the slow crackle of the fire in the hearth. The study is dim — warm, yes, but not alive. A space that once held meaning. Now it just holds him.

You don’t say a word. Just pad across the hardwood with gentle steps. His eyes are cast toward the fire — half-burnt logs, amber glow flickering across the hard line of his jaw and mingling with the smoke of his cigar. He hasn’t shaved in days. Not since long before he got you back. Hasn’t even thought about it. You know, because you counted each time he moved.

Three. Each to the kitchen, then back.

You pause for a moment, watching the grief calcify in his silence.

He looks like he’s been carved down to bone by fear and sharpened again by rage. The kind of rage only a man like him could carry. Cold. Surgical. The kind that doesn’t explode. It eats.

There’s a bottle of whiskey on the table next to him, half gone. You wonder how much of it he poured into the hollow that had your name carved into it. How many nights he drank your ghost down just to keep breathing.

You stop in front of him. No words yet.

Just you — bare legs, one of his dress shirts curtaining your frame, sleeves rolled up past the elbows. It smells like him. Cologne and smoke and something older. The scent of a man who nearly lost his world and hasn’t quite figured out how to let it back in without crucifying himself with the hurt.

“John,” you murmur softly.

He looks up.

And Christ — you weren’t ready for the way he looks at you. Not because he’s crying. He’s not. He’s past that. But because his expression is starved. Hollowed out. Like he spent every second of your absence chewing through every scenario that didn’t end with you in front of him, wearing his clothes and looking at him like you never left.

“I’m here,” you whisper. “It’s okay.”

He sets his cigar down, hand reaching out — rough palm sliding along your thigh like he’s checking for something, proof maybe, or pulse. You step between his knees without being asked, fingers finding the back of his neck, thumb brushing scruff made coarse by time.

His forehead presses to your stomach. Just rests there.

You can feel the breath he drags in — shaky, uneven, filled with everything he hasn’t said in the seven days he spent chasing hell to get you back.

“I should’ve gotten there sooner,” he says. His voice sounds like smoke and splinters. “I—”

“You got there.” You trace the age on his skin. He holds you tighter for it. “You found me.”

“Not a goddamn thing would’ve prevented that.”

You don’t answer that — just hold his head in your hands, willing your fingers to grow roots. Like the only thing you can offer now is proof of life.

He doesn’t ask you to forgive him for the days it took to reach you. Doesn’t apologize over and over for something he knows you'd never ever blame him for. It’s military. You know the job. The risks that often reap the rewards. And you — you know better than to tell him you’re fine. Because fine is the word people use when everything inside them is still bleeding. And besides, he isn’t really asking if you’re okay.

He’s asking if you’re still his.

So you climb into his lap, straddling his thighs. Not to fuck — not to forget. But to exist. With him. Inside the silence. Inside the ache. Inside the echo of what might’ve been lost if he hadn’t fought like hell to get to you.

“I had plans,” he murmurs, curling his lips into your neck. “For after. For now. Thought about what I’d say when you walked through the door. About how I’d ask if you wanted to get out of this life. Find something quieter. Something that doesn’t strip the good from our skin.”

You shift, press your forehead to his. Let the smoke on his exhales stick to yours. Let the ache burn through your throat.

“And now?”

He kisses you. “Now I just want to feel you breathe.”

[chamomiletealeaf]

There’s nothing the 141 boys love more than a fat pussy. Like I’m talking no thigh gap, thick thighs, cushioning and hiding your pussy away nice and snug until they open your legs to eat you up. They’ll thank you for keeping their meal warm too.

Better yet if they’re fucking you. Holding your legs together and pushing your knees to your chest so they can watch your juicy pussy take them nice and deep.

They love when you wear bikinis, tight little shorts, anything that frames your pussy nice and pretty when you bend over.

Pussy jobs 100 percent. They love slotting their thick cocks between your puffy pussy folds and watching how cute it looks getting teased.

You bet they have cheeky little polaroids of you bending over with a cute shy expression on your face showing off your pussy. And don’t be surprised if they share them with the rest of the team 🫣

[ilium-ilia]

john price x fem!reader | word vomit | drabble | dub-con/non-con | smut | unhinged price | unreliable narrator | unedited | don't poke the bear, love

You should've known better.

Strange men with debauched desires lurk in all rancid corners of the internet waiting for the right moment to prey on something as sweet as you. You—all soft smiles and head tilts, eyes shining as you listen to him ramble about all the work he's put into all while beaming about how well he did and how it will make the perfect commuter car for work. He can't help but think how stupid it is of you to come here to meet him alone, at his house, dressed like this. Shorts that expose enough skin to beat the heat and a tank top to match—body glistening with perspiration.

John realizes that you're smart. You know well enough to talk him up about all modifications that were made, and remember the milage for this model off the top of your head. You speak eloquently. Well educated. When he asks you where you work, you're not smart enough to give him a fake answer.

You're not smart enough to deny him when he offers you a drink of water inside of his house, either.

(Just to cool you down, love).

Beads of water on delicious lips, he leans against the counter as he listens to you ramble. Never once does he ask for you to open up, but you split yourself anyway. Tender flesh peeling back like the skin of an orange. It rolls. Flakes off. Advertises your juicy insides to a man who's dying of thirst.

He'll teach you to be better. That's what he tells himself, anyway. He'll show you how to push someone away when their fingers brush against your bare shoulder, not lean into the warmth like you are now. Mindlessly, you look up at him. Your lips are still wet enough for him to lick them and be satiated—hydrated fully well off of mere dew alone. Your eyes lock onto him, and your lips grow tighter.

Don't you know any better? Don't you know that you're advertising ripe meat in front of a very hungry creature?

No—maybe you do.

Maybe that's why you don't put up much of a fight when he presses your hips into the counter and snakes his thumbs beneath the waistband of your shorts. Maybe that's why your whining is quiet and pitchy as he yanks them down, arse fully exposed. Maybe it's why your tears fall silently as he grinds against your cunt.

(Stupid girl. Don't you know that you shouldn't play with wild animals?)

As he feeds his cock into you—inch by aching inch—he grunts about the rules. His rules. The ones you're going to follow from here on out. No being alone with strange men. Only show your teeth when you're ready to bite or be bitten (really, a smile is nothing more than a poorly hidden growl, after all). Most importantly be smart—smarter than this.

Fingers curling into your hips, he chuckles as you reach behind yourself, nails scraping poorly against his stomach, unable to break any skin through the cotton of his shirt. How cute you are. Little rabbit wandering into the bear's den and wondering why she's being bitten.

Then, hips stilling, he spills into you. Cock pulsing inside of you, your pules only grow stronger as he keeps himself buried deep inside of you. Warm, frothy cum spills out of you, seeping around where he plugs you full. He tells himself he'll teach you better than to allow that to happen, too.

"You know love..." He's tracing your spine. Bear-claw finger raking down your skin, one step away from a razor sharp enough to cut your clothes from your body. You quiver, rabbit-flesh sobbing beneath his touch. "If you wanted me, all you had to do was ask."

[gothghostiie]

price with reader who never got much attention as a kid/growing up??

very self indulgent but hear me out. price is a lover man. he takes his time for his partners, gives them what they need, even if he's busy. you on the other hand are simply used to being put aside, people only listening to you half heartedly, not looking at you and getting distracted when you talk, other things were always more important than you and you felt that. you got used to it, it's normal to you.

but when you're with price he's the total opposite. he looks at you intently when you talk (if not hes leaning his head towards you so he hears you better), putting things down when you ask him something - hes attentive. he listens. and its absolutely strange to you, it makes you feel flustered, kinda watched. at some point you ask him why hes looking at you like that, the tv running in the backround. he furrows his eyebrows at you, with a confused chuckle. "what do you mean, love?"

"you're starin' at me." you accuse him, your cheeks getting hot.

"you're talkin' to me. where else would I be looking?" he jokes with a soft chuckle, wondering what the hell you're on about.

"your show's on." you say, gesturing to the tv. he looks at you like youve got three heads.

"I'm listening to you, love."

[dawnofvenus]

king!price who hates how his little wife is constantly losing herself to the lush forests on the outskirts of his kingdoms walls

always preaching that you should be more cautious; sighing into your neck when you return at dusk when you left at dawn. it's always nerve wracking, his instincts to protect his precious dove flaring every time he watched you ride out the front gates. it was beyond difficult, repeatedly watching you go when the world has proven to be so unsafe.

but he's seen how mouthy you get whenever you don't get your freedom. the bitterness of your tone whenever you're kept inside because of one thing or another was something he definitely preferred to not deal with.

so he watches you leave nearly every day. flowing dress fluttering behind you, cloak flying even higher than the silk of your skirt. he's learned to trust your judgement, but he still strips you bare every night to assure the safety in your rides; checking for bruises or cuts.

'didn't matter anyways. the only marks that decorated your skin cluttered around the bones of your hips, which were born of his bear-ish grip while he fucks you silly. you shouldn't expect any less, given your absence throughout most of the week. it's a good reminder, forcing you to remember who you belong to. your his queen, you're lucky he loves you so much so he allows you to even leave castle grounds — let alone the kingdom itself.

[bunny-jpeg]

bunny's top fics!

this is a complied list of some of my most popular works by number of notes! i hope you enjoy! - some of these are simple drabbles and others are full fics, make sure to check the tags before reading!

thank you for all the support, love and comments on my works! writing every fic is always a fun task and the continued love for my work always makes me smile - from the bottom of my bunny heart, i say thank you!

you becoming a pen-pal with prisioner!simon

simon riley knew the years were catching up to him. he could feel the dull throb in his knee.

｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ i like my men older - simon riley♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ

the jail bird (pt. 1) - simon "ghost" riley

the jailbird (pt. 2) - simon "ghost" riley

vegetable patch

house sitter au - task force 141

i got a fever and the only cure is more john price!!

ex-husband - simon "ghost" riley

i have this little thought bouncing around in my head! single father simon.

packing my husband's lunch - simon "ghost" riley

john price would trap you with a baby. no questions asked.

most think that simon comes home from missions or deployment and just smothers himself in his wife's plush titties....

price coming back from a military exercise

pretty little panties - simon r.

crisp mornings - simon "ghost" riley

price knows best - john price

hibernation - john price

better than home - kidnapper!simon

[dumb-fawkin-bitch]

UHH HELLO?!?

THE SMUT?

Oh lord

Always leaving me speechless 🙂‍↕️

Well…. Not even an hour and already a panic attack 🙁

She can’t catch a break

Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 50: Flashback

Summary: You face down a nightmare as your life starts to move forward.

Pairing: Poly 141 x reader

Word Count: 9,371 words

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, explicit sexual content, p in v sex, fingering, oral, unprotected sex, unsafe bondage practices (don't do this), restraints, creampies, overstimulation, squirting, angst, flashbacks, panic attack, PTSD, angst, emotions, language

A/N: Sorry this one took so long but it kicked my ass. Also sorry for the emotional roller coaster...

MASTERLIST | <- Previous | Next ->

It’s cold, the wind strong enough to whip sand at your legs. You don’t care, treading through the soft white sand towards the darker, firmer wet sand. Your hands are shoved in your pockets in an attempt to keep them warm, and the closer you get to the water, the more you can feel it in the air, whipping around you.

“Don’t go too far.” A voice carries on the wind, John treading behind you in the sand.

“Yes, dad.” You roll your eyes, ignoring him to walk along the water’s edge. The beach is empty, as would be expected on such a day. Even though spring is on the horizon, it’s still not nice enough weather for the tourists.

Even today was a lucky break from the rain that fell for two days straight leaving muddy puddles everywhere.

They only let you come down here because you know you’re leaving soon. The time has come, the inevitable return must happen now. There’s nothing keeping you here, and life has to move forward. As much as you’d prefer to stay here, the last thing you need is for your pack to get hit with AWOL or even desertion charges. Kate can only keep things this way for so long, and now that the threat is gone, the excuses are wearing thin. They’re still part of the military, they still have their duties.

John has to go back while he waits for his retirement to be processed. He has things he has to do to make that possible, things he has to close, things he has to pass on to Simon. Kyle has to wait until his gets filed and approved. And you have to go back with them until it’s over.

You’re not happy.

You won’t be happy until you can put that place behind you for good.

Arms wrap around you and you swing blindly, jumping with a yelp.

“Bloody hell, stop.”

You’re breathing heavily, heart thudding in your chest. You hadn’t even heard Simon approaching, too lost in your head again.

“Scared the shit out of me.” You breathe.

“Shouldn’t be so lost in your head.” He says. “You think we’d let some random person approach you?”

You shake your head. “No.”

He’s silent for a moment. “Nice job, though. Swing first, ask questions later. Need to work on your swing again, though.” He says, keeping his arms around you. “Barely felt it.”

“Rude.” You pout, turning your gaze back to the sea.

“We’re heading back now. ‘S too cold out here. You’ll get sick.”

You don’t want to go. You’d stand out here all day if you could, watch the tide come and go. You know they wouldn’t let you. Too many risks.

“But I don’t want to.” You deepen your pout, blinking up at him with the best puppy-eyes you can give.

“But you have to.” He says, unwavered by your cuteness.

“No.” You say, crossing your arms and turning away from him.

“Yes.” He says, adjusting his hold on you.

You’re flying for a moment before you end up draped over his shoulder. “Hey!” You yell, trying to kick his stomach. “That’s not fair.”

“Should have listened.” He says, carrying you back through the sand.

You tilt your head up, staring back at the sea while it slowly gets further and further away. It might be your last chance to see it up close for a long time.

“Help me,” You plead as you pass by Johnny.

The Scot only shrugs. “Sorry, cannae help ye, kitten.”

You let out a frustrated groan but go limp on Simon’s shoulder, knowing there’s no changing their minds. You’re not sure you could even get them to convince Simon to let you down. You’re going to be carried back to the car whether you like it or not.

Some deep part of you enjoys it.

You’re self soothing.

That’s what you tell yourself as you mix the batter in the bowl. You’re waiting for the moment when John tells you to start packing, that you’re leaving this safe haven to return to the brutal world you left months ago that you hoped maybe by some small mercy you might be able to avoid going back to. How silly that thought was, though. Of course you’d wind up back there no matter what, even with John retiring.

You jump when hands close around your waist, squeezing gently as a body presses up against your back.

“That bowl insult you or somethin’?” Johnny breathes into your ear, lips brushing the skin. “Been staring at it like it placed a curse on ye.”

You shake your head, going back to mixing the batter. “No. Just got lost in thought.”

Johnny hums, pressing kisses to the skin behind your ear. “Anythin’ important?”

You could tell him the truth, but it will ruin the moment. He’s in a playful mood and the last thing you want is to bring him down. “No.” You say, pushing him back so you can turn in his arms, the bowl of batter in your hands. “Just thinking about how tasty these brownies will be.”

He stares down into the chocolate mixture in the bowl before looking back at you. “Mama’s recipe?”

“Of course.” You say, trying to wiggle out of his hold but he doesn’t let go.

“Bless.” He almost moans, slipping a finger into the batter before sticking it into his mouth. He does moan as he tastes the batter, slowly pulling his finger from his mouth to savor it. “Delicious even raw.”

You make a face, pulling the bowl out of his reach before he can dip his finger in again. “No eating it all before it gets baked.”

“C’mon just another taste.” He whines, trying to reach around you as you shove your hip into his stomach to push him away.

“You can have one once their done.” You slip around him, stepping up to the stove to dump the batter into the pan.

“Please let me lick the bowl.” He says, saddling up against your back again.

You roll your eyes, smoothing the batter before turning back to him. “Here.” You reach into the bowl, gathering some of the leftover batter onto your finger before wiping it on his nose.

He goes crosseyed as he stares at it, taking a step back. “That’s not fair.”

“You wanted some.” You hum, putting the brownie pan into the oven before setting the bowl in the sink.

“What are you two getting up to?” Kyle asks, stepping into the kitchen.

“Getting harassed for brownie batter.” You say, filling up the bowl with water so he can’t steal anymore.

“’M not harassing her.” Johnny says, gathering some of the batter on his nose onto his finger.

Kyle raises a brow, staring at him. “Right.” He takes a step forward, crowding into Johnny’s space. “Here.” He grabs Johnny’s jaw, fingers dimpling into his cheeks as he holds him still. Kyle leans in, licking the rest of the batter off his nose.

Your lips fall open as you watch them, warmth starting to pool in your stomach as Kyle cleans the batter off Johnny’s face. “Fuck…” You breathe, watching as Kyle leans in, giving Johnny a soft kiss before releasing him.

“Think she liked tha’.” Johnny breathes, still staring at Kyle.

Kyle inhales deeply, his lips twisting up in a smirk. “Think she did.” He steps closer to Johnny, putting his hands on his waist. “Should put you on your knees right here you needy whore.”

Johnny lets out a deep groan, your face starting to get hot as you watch them.

“Look at you.” Kyle groans, his hand pressing against the front of Johnny’s pants. “Already so worked up.”

“’S not fair, I havenae gotten any yet.” Johnny whines, pushing his hips up against Kyle’s hand.

“You just have to be patient.” Kyle scolds him.

“Fuck being patient.” Johnny growls, turning on you.

He crowds you back into the counter, looming over you. You can smell the sweet chocolate on his breath as he leans down, pressing a kiss to your lips. He hums, teeth tugging at your bottom lip before he kisses you hard, slipping his tongue into your mouth.

You moan into the kiss, his hands finding your hips to lift you onto the counter. You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him as close as you can. You can feel his bulge pressed right up against the seam of your jeans from this angle, his hips starting to rock slowly against yours. He’s desperate for any friction he can get, whining needily into your mouth.

“Fuck…” Kyle groans, stepping up behind Johnny, pressing his chest against his back.

Johnny’s hands slide down your sides until they reach the waistband of your jeans. “Of all days tae wear jeans.” Johnny groans, fumbling with the button.

You bat his hands away, undoing the button and sliding the zipper down. He wastes no time, batting your hands away this time, sinking one of them into your pants. You moan against his lips as his fingers push against your folds, already slick with arousal. He nips at your bottom lip as Kyle’s hand flattens against the bulge in his pants, letting out a quiet moan as his hips press into the other man’s hand.

He wastes no time sinking two of his fingers into you, a moan slipping out at the stretch. His fingers press deep into you, your hips shifting to push against his hand.

“So fuckin’ tight.” Johnny groans, his own hips rocking against Kyle’s hand.

A moan leaves your lips as Johnny’s fingers curl inside of you, pushing up against that spot. Your hips jerk, sliding closer to the edge of the counter to give him more room. His fingers move inside of you, thrusting in and out as his palm pushes up against your clit. Pleasure is blooming in your abdomen, racing outwards to your fingers and toes as Johnny moans against your lips.

You could cum just like this, and you might have, had there not been an interruption.

“Can’t leave you three alone for five minutes.” Simon’s deep voice ruins the moment.

Kyle backs away from Johnny, adjusting his own pants. Johnny lets out a whine, fingers still stuffed inside of you.

“Right where we make food, too.” Simon sighs, tugging Johnny away from you. You let out a whine as his fingers are tugged from your pussy.

There’s a bulge in the front of Johnny’s jeans, clearly evident through the thick fabric. Simon lifts Johnny’s hand to his face, his fingers shiny with your arousal. He sucks the digits into his mouth, Johnny nearly crumpling to the floor.

Simon hums appreciatively, licking Johnny’s fingers clean before releasing his beta. He approaches you, looming over you as you sit on the counter. You stare up at him with innocent eyes, trying to read his face, but once again he’s an emotionless mask. His hands grip your hips, lifting you down off the counter.

“Don’t want the brownies to burn.” He murmurs, zipping and buttoning your jeans for you.

“They wouldn’t have burned.” You pout, staring up at him.

“You really think Johnny could have stopped himself at a quick fingering?” Simon tilts his head.

“No.” You say quickly. He’s been chomping at the bit for a chance to get at you these last couple days. You’re certain if Simon hadn’t interrupted you’d be bent over the counter with your jeans around your ankles.

“Finish the brownies first.” Simon says, leaning down to kiss you.

“Yes, sir.” You murmur against his lips.

A deep growl rumbles in his chest, his hands clenching into fists at his sides as his scent starts to thicken in the air.

“Little shit.”

It’s quiet in the cottage. John, Kyle, and Johnny are upstairs doing lord knows what, and Simon is on the couch across from you. Both of you are reading, happily sitting in silence aside from the occasional pop and crackle from the fire. It’s nice, this brief moment of quiet and stillness. The cottage has started to feel small and overwhelming, alive with energy all day. Not that it hasn’t been that way for a while, but perhaps it’s just your brain looking for a way to cope with the reality that you’ll be leaving soon. Looking for some negative to attach to this safe space.

Footsteps thud down the stairs, your eyes glancing up over your book to find Johnny hurrying into the living area. He beelines for you, pulling the book out of your hands.

“Hey!” You complain, reaching for it but he’s faster, tossing it on the coffee table before bending down.

Suddenly you’re in the air, Johnny’s arms wrapped around you as he hefts you over his broad shoulder. You cling to his shirt as he adjusts you, his hand patting your ass.

“Aren’t you going to help me?” You ask, staring at Simon as Johnny turns.

Simon simply smirks, watching Johnny as he heads for your room.

“Don’t break her!” Is all Simon says, giving you a little wave before he disappears around the door frame.

You land on your back on the bed, bouncing just a little as Johnny dumps you there. He flicks on the lamp after closing the door, before moving to stand in front of you. You lift yourself up onto your elbows, eyes trailing his body. He’s hard, the bulge evident as it pushes against his jeans. Your eyes trail further upward until you’re staring at his face, his eyes dark and hooded as they stare down at you.

“Finally.” He says, his hands dropping to your thighs. “I’ve been waitin’ for this.”

“I know.” You say, your stomach clenching in excitement. You’re going to be tired tomorrow but that’s alright. You’ve got nothing better to do besides sleep.

“Much as I don’t want to,” His hands squeeze your thighs. “I’m gonnae take my time.”

A shiver runs down your spine. It’s a promise. You know he’s telling the truth. Johnny doesn’t play when it comes to sex.

His hands trail up your legs until they’re teasing the bottom of your shorts. He plays with the fabric there for a moment before sliding his hands higher to your waist. Your toes curl in anticipation as he dips his fingers beneath the waistband. Goosebumps break out across your skin as his warm fingers slide higher under your shirt, trailing up over your ribs to your breasts.

He groans as his fingers brush the undersides of your breasts. “No bra?”

“No point in one,” you breathe, nipples hardening in anticipation.

He breathes out a curse, pushing your shirt up over your breasts. He doesn’t bother taking it all the way off, leaving it there bunched up around your neck. His hands cup your breasts gently, thumbs stroking the soft skin.

“Perfect fuckin’ tits.” He groans, squeezing them in his hands.

“Thank you.” You say breathlessly, arching your back to push them more into his hands.

He chuckles, his thumbs brushing over your nipple. A heavy breath leaves your mouth at the sensation against the sensitive bud. Johnny’s teeth sink into his bottom lip as he pinches your nipple, tugging on it lightly. There’s a burst of pleasure and a hint of pain that has your stomach clenching again. He tugs on it harder, a sound leaving your mouth at the intense sensation.

Johnny hums in response, leaning his body down over you. His fingers release your nipple, his tongue instead flicking over the bud. You gasp at the warm, wet sensation the cool air in the room cooling the dampness on your nipple, making it harden.

“There ye go.” Johnny says, his lips wrapping around the stiff bud to suckle at it.

His hand cups your other breast, his fingers tugging at your other nipple. The combined sensations has warmth pooling in your stomach, the pleasure from the stimulation coursing through your body. You never thought you could cum just from someone playing with your breasts before, but Johnny continues to try and make that a reality.

“Johnny,” You sigh, running your fingers through his short-cropped mohawk. “Feels good.”

He hums, continuing to suckle at your nipple, his fingers pinching and twisting the other. Your panties are quickly dampening, pleasure shooting from your nipples straight between your legs. His teeth scrape against your nipple, a gasp leaving your lips from the intense sensation. They’re starting to get sensitive, aching and burning but you can’t deny the pleasure still coursing through you from Johnny’s ministrations.

Quiet moans leave your lips as Johnny continues to tease your breasts, pleasure building deep in your stomach. Your legs lift, squeezing around Johnny’s waist as he leans over you. Your hips press upward, grinding against the front of his jeans to try and get more friction against your pulsing clit.

Despite the discomfort you can feel yourself starting to tiptoe towards the edge the more Johnny continues to play with your breasts. You can’t believe it, how good it feels, how quickly you’re approaching an orgasm just from Johnny’s mouth on your nipple.

He sucks hard, lifting his head to tug at your nipple with his mouth. You moan from the pleasure and the pain, his other hand tugging hard at your other nipple.

“Johnny,” You gasp, fingers curling in his hair as your pussy begins to pulse. “F-fuck…”

“C’mon.” He goads you, switching nipples to suck on the other.

Your legs start to tremble, squeezing hard around his hips as your own push up against his jeans. You’re grinding against him needily, pushing yourself closer and closer to the looming edge of pleasure.

His teeth sink into your nipple, biting lightly. Your entire body shudders, hand tugging hard at his hair as a half yelp, half moan leaves your lips. He sucks hard at your nipple, tugging hard on the other and you’re cumming, soaking your underwear.

Johnny suckles at your nipple for just a moment more, until you’re tugging at his hair, lifting his head from the over-sensitive nub. You’re breathing hard, chest rising and falling as your pussy flutters from your orgasm.

“Good girl.” He praises you, leaning up to kiss you before he’s sliding down your body, heading straight between your legs. He tugs your shorts down, tossing them somewhere behind him as he presses your legs up. “Look at that.”

He leans down, pressing his face against your panties. He takes a deep breath in, your lips parting in surprise as he buries himself quite literally in your pussy. You’re not quite sure how he’s breathing, but you can feel the warm exhales against your damp panties. He lets out a low groan, teeth tugging at the fabric for a moment before he sits back up straight.

He pushes your legs up farther, moving your hands to the backs of your thighs. “Hold those fer me.”

His thumb drags along the fabric of your panties, pressing hard until he reaches your clit. You sink your teeth into your lip as he pushes his thumb against it, making small, tight circles through the fabric. The friction against your clit has your pussy dampening again, nails biting into your skin from the sensation. He really wasn’t kidding about taking his time. You’ve never seen him quite so patient before. You thought he’d be quick and desperate just like he was when he ate you out on the table in front of your pack.

The thought of that moment has your sensitive nipples hardening, more slick starting to soak your panties. What you wouldn’t have given to let them all have a taste, one right after the other. You’d have let them do anything to you in that moment.

When you sat up and realized no one had their cock out, it had disappointed you a bit. Was Johnny eating you out not enough of a show?

Johnny continues to rub your clit through your panties, slow, methodical circles that drag the fabric against the sensitive bud. You’re moaning quietly, still holding your thighs apart for him. Your panties are fully damp now, his eyes glued to where the fabric has darkened.

He moves his hand from your clit, a disappointed sound leaving your lips. He grips your underwear, tugging upwards and stretching the fabric until it’s tight against your pussy. It’s pushing against your clit, your hips pressing upwards, seeking out friction.

“Fucking Christ.” Johnny moans, releasing your underwear only to grab the waistband and pull until the fabric snaps into pieces.

“Johnny!” You complain, releasing your thighs to push yourself up onto your elbows.

“I’ll buy ye a new pair.” Is all he says, his hands parting your thighs again, forcing you flat on your back once more.

His hands push your thighs apart until they can’t go any further, tense against the strain on your muscles and ligaments. He stares down at your pussy, spread open for him. He licks his lips, hands firm against the backs of your thighs as he lowers himself down, hot breath fanning against your slick folds.

He mumbles out a curse as he presses his face against your pussy, uninhibited by the fabric of your panties this time. He hums, his tongue darting out to press into you just slightly. You let out a quiet sound, lifting your head to stare at him.

He lets out a sigh before lifting his face, pressing his tongue into you as far as it can you. You whine at the sensation, legs pressing against his hands in an attempt to close them around his head. He’s stronger than you though, his hands keeping you spread open wide for him.

His tongue continues to dip into you, drinking your slick straight from the source. The sounds he’s making are obscene, slurping at your pussy like he’s parched. In a way he is, having been denied this opportunity for days, at least until he buried his face in your pussy on the table. Your toes curl at the memory, your hand dropping to grip his mohawk. He groans as you tug at the short strands, pressing your hips up against his face. You’re the one trying to drown him now, but it feels too good for you to care much about his own safety.

You doubt he cares either, not from the way he’s thrusting his tongue into you.

It’s not quite enough, though. You need more, your pulsing clit feeling neglected. You reach a hand down, fingers brushing over the sensitive bud in an attempt to finally ease some of the pressure, but his hand darts out, grabbing your wrist.

He tsks, squeezing your wrist in his hand. “Naughty little kitten. What am I gonnae do with you.”

He stares at you for a moment, letting out a contemplative hum before he’s standing, his hands falling to your waist to flip you over. He grabs your wrists in his hand, the other unbuckling his belt. Excitement and nerves flush through you as you feel the leather against your skin, Johnny tying your hands behind your back with his belt. He slips a finger under the leather to make sure it’s not too tight before he’s forcing you forward, your cheek pressed against the mattress as he hikes your ass up into the air.

“Maybe this’ll teach ye.” He says, patting your ass before he kneels down behind you.

He buries his face in your pussy once more, a muffled moan leaving your lips as he drags his tongue through your folds, finally reaching your clit. He wraps his lips around it, suckling it like he did your nipples. Pleasure courses through your body, your hands tugging at the belt instinctively.

He drags his tongue through your folds again before swirling his tongue around your clit. Your legs jerk, the neglected bud finally getting the attention she deserves. You’re soaked, dripping slick and coating his face in it, not that he really cares. He’s probably enjoying it. You can tell by the way he’s moaning into your pussy, eating it like a man starved.

Your legs are already shaking, knees trembling where they’re holding you up. Johnny’s hands are on your ass, keeping you spread open for his tongue. Pleasure is pooling in your stomach, your sensitive body quickly hurtling towards another orgasm.

Johnny sucks hard on your clit, his teeth scraping against the sensitive bud. You’re moaning into the mattress, hips pressing back against his face as your orgasm rapidly approaches you.

It slams into you like a truck, your legs nearly giving out as pleasure courses through you. Johnny’s hands hold you up, his tongue dipping into you as you cum on his face. He thrusts his tongue into you, lapping up every last drop as you gush around him, shaking and moaning in pleasure.

Johnny moans into you, his fingers dimpling your skin as he holds onto you, still lapping at your pussy.

You’re quickly approaching overstimulation, hips pushing back against Johnny’s face. “Johnny,” you gasp, trying to wiggle out of his hold.

He holds you there, his thumb dropping to rub tight circles around your clit. You whine, writhing against his hold as more pleasure burns from your clit straight through your veins. You can’t stop shaking, sweat beading on your skin as you’re pushed more and more towards another orgasm.

Johnny is moaning like a whore, still fucking you with his tongue as you cum again. His hands hold you up as your knees slip over the edge of the bed, your body unable to function after another orgasm.

He finally relents as you start begging for mercy, dragging his tongue through your folds one last time before he legs your body drop onto the bed on your stomach.

“Screamin’ Jesus.” He breathes, his hand resting on your ass. “’Bout did me in.”

His hips press against your ass, rutting just slightly. The drag of his jeans against your bare skin offers a delicious friction, not enough to hurt but just enough to leave your skin burning.

You turn your head, neck straining as you try to look at him out of the corner of your eye. “Gonna fuck me or just rut against me like a teenager?”

Johnny’s movements pause as he stands there for a moment, hands indenting the mattress by your hips. Those hands move to your waist, sliding down your skin as he pushes himself up to stand. His hands land on your ass, kneading the skin before he slaps one cheek. “Got a mouth on ye. I like it.”

You hear rustling and the zipper of his jeans sliding down as he takes a step back from you. There’s a soft thud as the fabric gets tossed to the floor along with his boxers. He steps back up to you, legs framing yours as he pushes you further up the bed until your clit rests against the edge of the mattress. You let out a quiet sound as his fingers drag up your folds, two of them dipping into you.

“So fuckin’ tight.” He groans, pressing those fingers as deep as he can. Your pussy is still fluttering from your orgasm, squeezing around his fingers.

He slowly begins to thrust them into you, pushing your clit against the comforter with every press of his hand. You whimper, the overstimulated bud pulsing from the pressure. It almost hurts, the overwhelming sensation of the stretch of Johnny’s fingers and the pressure against your clit.

Johnny pushes his fingers downward as he thrusts them into you, brushing up against that spot inside of you. You’re not sure how much more you can take, your legs already shaking from the sensitivity in your body. You’re going to cum again quickly, you know it. Your body has never felt so sensitive before, every inch of you alive with electricity. Your nipples are raw where they press into the comforter, your clit throbbing as its pushed against the edge of the mattress, your pussy clenching tight around the delicious stretch of Johnny’s fingers, the digits hitting every spot inside of you as they can.

Your head is reeling, mind foggy. Your shoulders ache but the pleasure is quickly blotting that pain out, hands pressing against the leather of the belt around your wrists as you get closer and closer to the edge. You can feel it, the building of the pressure, the warmth pooling between your thighs. You’re about to gush around Johnny’s fingers, hurtling straight towards a fourth orgasm and he hasn’t even stuck his dick inside of you yet.

Your back arches, pushing your head up as you cum, legs giving out again as another orgasm rocks through you. It’s almost painful, thighs squeezing around Johnny’s hand. His free hand rubs your back, trailing over the sweat-slick skin.

“Fuck,” he curses, pulling his fingers free from your pussy. You hear the slick sound of slapping skin for a moment before something wet hits the backs of your thighs.

You lay there for a moment, feeling the viscous fluid start to slide down your skin. “Did you just cum?” You ask, voice slightly muffled where your face is pressed into the mattress.

“Couldnae stand it anymore.” Johnny says, panting slightly.

Fuck, you think. He got so worked up just touching you he’s cum already.

What a whore.

Fabric touches the backs of your legs, Johnny wiping his cum off your skin with his boxers before tossing them to the floor again. The strain on your shoulders eases away as the leather gets pulled from your wrists. You let out a sigh, letting your arms flop to your sides.

“Easy,” Johnny mumbles, leaning over you to rub your shoulders. You can feel him, still hard and pressed against your ass. Of course he’s still hard. Johnny’s stamina is near legendary.

He massages your shoulders for a moment before his hands fall to your waist, gently easing you over. He takes your hands, pulling your arms up towards him to stretch them the opposite way. You sigh at the stretch, the joints popping after being forced in one direction for so long. He gently rubs your wrists, raw and sore from tugging on the leather.

He presses a kiss to each palm before letting your arms drop. He bends over you, hands pressing into the bed on either side of your head. He stares down at you for a long moment, and you stare right back into those bright blue eyes. “Ye ready fer more?” He asks, the corner of his lips twitching up in a smirk.

Your pussy clenches at the prospect of what’s hiding behind that playful grin.

You nod, taking a deep breath in. Your legs are still shaking, but you think they’ll be permanently stuck that way after tonight.

Johnny pushes you up the bed before crawling onto the mattress. He grabs a pillow, slipping it under your hips to prop you up before he’s kneeling between your legs. His hands slide up your thighs, blunt nails scratching at the skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

“Ready?” He asks, his hands sliding to your hips, his fingers wrapping around them.

You let out a breath before nodding.

“Use yer words.” He says, a shiver running down your spine.

So he’s playing dominant tonight.

“Yes, sir.” You say, your pussy clenching at the look that flashes through his eyes.

“Gonnae kill me.” He grunts, his hand releasing your hips to fist his cock.

He drags the head of his cock up along your folds, slick and wet still despite the numerous orgasms you’ve already had. You’re in for a lot more before tomorrow, you think.

Your head tilts back at the stretch as he pushes his cock into you, the thick head pushing through the slight resistance your overstimulated walls offer. You whine, hands clutching the sheets just from the feel of him stretching you open. He’s barely moved and you’re already pulsing, pussy squeezing around him as he pushes into you. He presses his hips forward, pushing more and more into you, your pussy gaping around his girthy cock.

“Fuck…” He groans, bending his body over you as he continues to push into you, fighting the slight resistance as he seeks to sink as deep as he can, until your hips are flush.

You’re panting, sweat still slicking your skin as he finally gets there, hips pressed tight against yours. He’s so deep inside of you, filling your pussy so perfectly. A perfect cock, you think. They’re all so perfect, but Johnny especially. How you’ve missed him and his ability to wield it.

You almost regret making him wait until last.

Johnny folds his body over you, shifting his position inside of you. You let out a moan as he lays himself against your chest, his lips pressing against yours. You kiss him, pressing your tongue into his mouth. You can still taste yourself a bit on his tongue, sweet and musky. He groans against your lips as you flutter around him, squeezing his cock.

“Fuckin’ love ye.” He grunts, kissing your lips sweetly.

“Love you too.” You breathe, tangling a hand in his mohawk and tugging. He lets out a groan, his hips shifting just slightly against you.

He presses one last kiss to your lips before pushing himself back up onto his knees. He looms there over you, his hands sliding down your sides until they reach your waist. He grips you tightly as he starts to rock his hips. You lay there, staring up at his face as he moves, slowly thrusting into you. You can feel him deep inside of you, his cock dragging against that spot with every thrust. You’re not going to last long, not with how sensitive you are. You don’t imagine he’ll last long either, not with the way he’s already twitching inside of you.

He keeps his pace steady, thrusts slow and even as he does as he promised, taking his time with you. He’s trying to savor every moment, almost like he thinks he’s not going to get this chance again. He certainly will. You know he’s most likely to pull you into his room and fuck the life out of you on a whim.

You think back to all those quickies before he had to go train, all those quickies before meals, those nights he’d pull you into his room in the barracks and bend you over his bed until your legs were shaking so bad you couldn’t leave if you wanted to. The amount of times he ate you out in the rec room, pants down around your ankles as he knelt on the floor.

Spontaneity is Johnny’s middle name.

Johnny starts to pick up speed, thrusting his hips faster against yours. His strokes are deep and even, cock pushing up against you over and over again. You’re already trembling, back slick with sweat and dampening the comforter under you. You can see the sweat beading on Johnny’s forehead as he continues to pick up the pace, the room hot and stinking of sex from your activities.

Neither of you last long, your legs shaking with an orgasm quickly, over-sensitive pussy fluttering around Johnny’s cock. He’s not far behind you, moaning as his body folds over yours as he spills into you. That doesn’t stop him, though, his hips still rocking into you as he fills you.

His hands press into the mattress by your shoulders, his hips grinding into you as he fucks you through your orgasm. You can already feel the burn of overstimulation approaching, the uncontrollable shaking and clenching of your limbs overtaking you.

“Johnny, Johnny,” You whimper his name like a prayer, his hips rhythmically snapping against yours. He doesn’t let up, doesn’t even falter as he continues to fuck you. “Please…” You whine, reaching up for him.

He bends his body down, letting your arms wrap around his neck as he continues to snap his hips against yours. “C’mon.” He groans, his teeth scraping your jaw. “One more.”

Another orgasm slams into you, your legs shaking and squeezing around his sides as your entire body writhes under him. He groans loudly in your ear, his hips finally stuttering before he cums again, filling you up until his cum is leaking out around his cock.

His hips still, his body resting against yours. He presses his face into your neck, your head tilting to give him more space. Both of you are slicked with sweat, breathing heavily. You lay there still for a moment, your body still trembling

“Jesus Fuckin’ Christ, kitten.” He breathes, pressing a kiss to the side of your neck.

You giggle, squeezing your arms around him. “That good, huh?”

“And more.” He says, letting his weight pin you down for another moment before he pushes himself up to his knees again.

His cock slips out of you, his cum following as it drips onto the pillow under your hips. His fingers gather it before he’s pushing them inside you, pushing his cum back into your pussy.

He chuckles as your mouth drops open, his fingers pushing against your still fluttering walls. “What, thought ye were done?”

You gulp, staring up at that playful grin and those shining eyes. Of course you’re not done. You’re just getting started.

There’s a slickness between your thighs when you wake. You press your legs together but find resistance. Something vibrates through you, your body shuddering on instinct. It takes a moment, but your brain begins to wake up, becoming aware of your surroundings, and what’s happening to your body.

Your hand drifts down, sinking into the short-cropped mohawk. Your legs squeeze against Johnny’s head again, his mouth suckling at your clit lazily. “Johnny?” You breathe sleepily.

“Mornin’ kitten.” He murmurs against your pussy, wrapping his lips around your clit again.

You moan, tugging at his hair. How long has he been down there? A while, you think, judging by how wet you are already. Your pussy is sore after last night, but still pleasure blooms in your core. It’s nearly overstimulating, bordering on that painful edge that’s loomed since last night. Johnny has pushed your body beyond what you thought it could handle, making every inch of you sensitive to every little stimulation.

“Gonna cum,” you whine, stomach tensing in anticipation of the pleasure building inside of you.

“Cum fer me.” Johnny almost commands, biting down softly on your clit.

Your hips jerk at the near painful sensation, your legs squeezing so hard around Johnny’s head you’re almost worried you’re hurting him. He offers no complaint, though, sucking hard enough on your clit you almost see stars.

Your hips lift off the bed, pressing your pussy against his face as you cum. Your hands tug at the sheets, heels digging into his back. Johnny sinks his teeth into your inner thigh, grinding against the bed. You yelp as his teeth sink into the sensitive skin, your body jerking from the pinch of pain.

He soothes the spot with a kiss, trailing kisses down your thigh back to your pussy. He offers you no respite, no break longer than he’s already given you, his tongue immediately back to your clit. Your legs jerk as his tongue drags across the overly-sensitive bud, the sensation almost painful after so long.

“Johnny,” You whine, tugging at his hair but he doesn’t let up, starting to suckle at your clit again. “Please…” You whimper against the almost painful sensation.

Your head turns as the door opens, Simon’s big form looming in the doorway. His eyes narrow as he stares at your position, Johnny ignoring him as he continues to suck on your clit.

Simon steps forward, moving towards the bed. “Going to let the bird eat breakfast?” He asks, pausing at the edge of the mattress.

“When I’m done.” Johnny murmurs from between your thighs, sucking hard on your clit.

You yelp, legs shaking from the painful pleasure. Simon’s hand brushes yours away, taking its spot in Johnny’s hair, forcing his head up. Johnny’s eyes glaze over as he stares up at Simon, lips parted, face shiny with your slick.

“Ease up.” Simon says, forcing Johnny back onto his knees. Your legs drop from around his shoulders, falling limp on the bed. “’S time for breakfast.”

Johnny whines, tilting his head back to stare at Simon. “But she hasnae cum again.”

Simon glances down at you before pulling Johnny off the bed. He climbs up onto his knees, the mattress sinking beside you. You get no moment of relief before Simon is stuffing two of his fingers into you, the other hand pressing down on your belly. Johnny stands at the end of the bed, breathing out a curse as his hand drops to his cock.

Simon’s fingers are fast and rough as they thrust into you, curled upward to hit that spot over and over. You know where this is going as hot pleasure burns through you, your legs already shaking. You can’t even try to protest as your back arches off the bed, hands tugging at the sheets as your brain starts to go numb.

You let out a long, loud moan as white hot pleasure shoots through you, Simon’s fingers pistoning in and up inside of you. Your entire body shakes, hips lifting as you squirt all over Simon’s hand and the sheets.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” Johnny groans, his own body shuddering.

Simon pulls his fingers out of you as you try to breathe, your head spinning. He pats your pussy before pushing off the bed. “There. She came.” He looks at Johnny and the mess he’s made on the sheets. “Clean yourself up then come out for breakfast.”

All you can do is lay there and try to breathe as you watch his back retreating out of the room.

You’re definitely not going to cry.

Well, not cry again.

You cried packing up the room, making the bed fresh like it had been when you first arrived. You cried double checking every inch of the room to ensure every trace of you was gone.

You didn’t cry loading up the two cars with boxes and suitcases. You didn’t cry standing out on the deck one last time to stare out at the sea. You wanted to go down to the beach one last time, but as usual, it was pouring rain and John said no. You’d get to see the beach again soon, he said. The weather will be clearer by then and warmer. Spring is approaching which means more rain.

You’ve come to hate the rain.

“Holding up back there?” Kyle’s voice cuts the quiet in the car.

It’s a four hour drive from the cottage back to Hereford. There would be no flying this time. You almost wish you were. It would have made this torture go by faster.

“Yep.” You say, head leaned against the glass as you watch the green hills pass by outside. You’re too warm, tucked in under a blanket, but you don’t have it in you to fight it off your body.

Your big bear is buckled in the middle seat next to you, and next to it a few bags and suitcases. The two cars were packed almost full of things you accumulated during your months at the cottage. Stuff bought to make it seem more like home. Home. The barracks. The place you wish you’d never have to see again. Now you’re going back to that cold, sterile world surrounded by alphas and betas you don’t know.

Tears are pooling in your eyes again.

“It’ll only be for a couple weeks.” John says, glancing at you through the rear-view mirror. “I’ve already filed the paperwork.”

Despite the warmth you huddle deeper under the blanket, looking away from the rolling green hills to lean against your big bear. You almost made it ride with Simon and Johnny in the car behind you, but instead you’re glad you stuffed it into the backseat with you.

Kyle turns on the radio, breaking the tense silence that’s settled over the car. You ignore it, closing your eyes. You won’t sleep, but at least you can pretend for a while that you’re not going back to the place you want to see least in this world.

You’re silently glad John somehow had your ID with him as you roll up to the gates of the base. It hasn’t changed at all in the months you’ve been away, still so unwelcoming and cheerless. You forgot how plain their world is, how boring and cold as John drives through the base back to the barracks. It feels like so long ago this had been your normal. You’d walked this base over and over, back and forth to the mess hall, the gym, the training areas. Nothing’s changed here, but everything has changed with you and your pack.

You don’t want to get out of the car as John pulls to a stop outside the familiar white building. It looks just like it did months ago, looming and plain. You sit there for a moment, still bundled under the blanket, leaning against your bear. You don’t want to get out. You want to run back to the cottage, back to the warm, small space that had been your home. It feels more like home than this place ever will.

Just a couple weeks.

That’s what John said. A couple weeks then you’d be leaving for good, never having to step foot on this base again. You, John, and Kyle would be leaving for Scotland to find a permanent home, one that actually felt like home.

Your door opens, John leaning down. “Come on. I know you don’t want to, but we have no choice.”

You have no choice.

You really don’t.

You sigh, undoing your seatbelt before finally pulling the blanket off. The cold air outside makes you shiver, your hands sinking into the sleeves of the oversized sweater you’re wearing. One of Simon’s, you think. You’ve stolen so many of their clothes over the last couple weeks it’s hard to tell what used to belong to who.

Nerves start to twist in your stomach as you move towards the door, propped open by a box as Simon and Johnny start to move your belongings back in. You don’t want to pass over that threshold, step back into the world you so desperately were trying to avoid going back to.

The doorway hangs open like the maw of some hideous beast, some monstrous being waiting to devour you. That mouth will close and swallow you whole down into some nightmarish realm.

There is no escape. It seems to taunt you, lashing out, playing to your greatest fears. Once you step over that threshold, there’s no going back. You’ll be stuck in there forever.

“Come on.” Kyle’s hand presses against your back to nudge you forward. The temptation to dig your heels in, throw a tantrum like a child is strong, but you won’t. There are others around you now, watching, assessing. You’re no longer safe to do as you want, the freedoms you had at the cottage have been rescinded and now you have to play their game again.

Despite your hesitance, despite your unwillingness you force your feet to move, dragging yourself closer and closer to the gaping maw waiting to swallow you. The soles of your shoes seem to sink into the asphalt, every step like wading through quicksand as you force yourself closer and closer to the place you want to be least in the world.

You’d take Texas over this.

You’re shaking as you take the final step, aware of Johnny behind you with a box in his hands, but you can’t make yourself move faster than you are. Just one step and you’ll be through the door, back into the world you left behind, and had hoped would be behind you for the rest of your life.

Foot meets tile and you’re inside. The lights are bright, burning your eyes as they adjust from the cloudy grey outside. It’s only noon but the world seems dark outside. Rain, you think. It’s going to rain.

Johnny nudges you forward gently, feet stumbling to the side as you move out of his way. You’re shaking, knees almost knocking together as you stand there in the barracks for the first time in months.

You’re not glad to be back.

The hallway seems to go on forever, stretching on and on like a hallway in a horror movie. If you ran down it, it might seem to stretch on forever. A five-and-a-half minute hallway.

“Hey,”

You jump as a hand lands on your shoulder. Your head snaps to the side, heart racing at the thought of some random solider entering the barracks, approaching you so openly while your pack is distracted. That’s a hypervigilance you’ll have to return to. They’re all threats, every one of them. You’re surrounded by unfriendly betas and alphas, ones who would jump at any chance to go after an unguarded omega.

They have before.

Kyle’s the one behind you, his hand on your shoulder. You only recognize him through scent, the soft smell of salty air and the gentle scent of beta fills your nose. Your eyes are blurry with tears you didn’t even realize were gathering there.

“I know it’s not ideal,” Kyle says, his hand heavy on your shoulder, trying to ground you in your panic. “But we have to. Let’s go, yeah?” He nods his head down the hallway.

You don’t want to. Spending the next few weeks in the car feels like a better compromise than having to be back inside here.

Instead you let him guide you forward, feet scuffing on the tile as you make your way down that clinically white hallway. It’s all so sterile and unwelcoming, unlike the soft warmth of the cottage. It’s nearly giving you whiplash, the change to the harsh cold of the barracks. There’s no changing it, no making it gentler, more easy to bear. This world is harsh and cold and they’re shifting back into it so easily.

You suppose they’re used to it. Their entire adult lives have been in this. You adjust to where you are because you have no choice. Even sleeping outside in the cold would be welcoming to them. Not ideal, but they’d do it.

You’re not like them.

Kyle squeezes your shoulder before stepping ahead of you, making his way to his door. It squeaks quietly as it opens and he disappears into the darkness, leaving you behind. The world starts to contort, your vision tunneling as you pause outside your own door.

It’s closed as best it can be. The door jam is splintered, the wood cracked from where it had been kicked in. There’s still a boot print imprinted into the wood. You remember the shoving against the door, the jiggling of the handle. It’s cold as you press your hand against it, pushing it open. It only opens a couple feet before it hits something. Your dresser. You’d pushed it against the door to try and buy as much time as you could.

Your hand shakes as you reach through, fingers fumbling until you find the light switch. The overhead light flickers on, shining ugly and yellow from above. You slip through the gap in the door, stepping into your old room.

It smells like dust, all hints of any scents being gone after months of being empty. The window is closed. Someone came in and closed it. Your desk is still in disarray, items knocked over and on the floor from your scramble to get out of the room.

There’s a band tied around your chest, squeezing and squeezing tighter and tighter. Your breaths come in ragged inhales and shaky exhales, faster and faster until your fingers are starting to go numb. You can’t look away from the window, your brain starting to go fuzzy. There’s a pit in your stomach, a violent twisting and dropping sensation. It makes you sick, nausea starting to crawl up your esophagus.

Blood pounds in your ears, no...something is slamming against the door. Panic seizes you, freezing your body in place, stiffening your muscles.

You need to get out. You need to go.

Someone is coming.

You scream as arms wrap around you, tugging you out of the room. You’re flailing, panicking, fists swinging blindly.

“Stop.” A firm voice commands, hands closing around your wrists, tugging you closer. “Stop.”

You’re pushed up against a chest, firm and solid against you. A strong scent floods your nose. Leather, something soft and fresh.

“Breathe.” A voice cuts through the blood pounding in your ears.

You can’t. Every inhale and exhale hurts, your hands curling into fists from the adrenaline coursing through you.

“Come on.” Something wraps around you, squeezing you tightly.

You’re crying. The tears are falling, burning paths down your face as you’re pinned against the solid warmth in front of you. Your lips are shaking, snot sliding down your lip as you cry.

There’s a steady pounding against your ear, thumping evenly. Your mind focuses on that, listening to the rhythmic thump, thump against the side of your face. It clings to that rhythm, your breaths starting to slow. Your hands curl into the t-shirt pressed against your face, the soft fabric wet from your tears.

That steady thumping continues to beat against your ear as the world begins to take shape around you again. You’re pressed up tight against something solid, your body trembling against it. Your fingers are numb, trembling as they grip the fabric of a t-shirt tightly. Your whole body aches, muscles tense, joints locked in place. Your own heart is pounding hard, racing so fast it’s almost painful.

The scent of leather and eucalyptus seeps into your nose, the steady scent of alpha mingling with something else in the air. It’s clouding your brain, soothing its way through your synapses down into the very atoms of your being. It’s easing away that fear, the cloudy haze that’s settled over your mind as you lose yourself to panic.

You’ve had a panic attack, a flashback. Your room hasn’t changed since that day, but why would it? No one has been back to the barracks since that day. Of course it would still look the way you left it months ago. That day you escaped out the window in fear for your life.

No one thought about that.

There’s a pair of arms wrapped around you, holding you against a solid chest. The steady thumping against your ear is a heartbeat, strong and slow, calm. It’s comforting, easing you back into your mind and your body and the present.

It’s Simon you’re being held against. Simon pulled you out of the room in the midst of your panic. He’s holding you tightly, arms nearly painful around you as he keeps you pinned to his chest, trying to pull you out of your panic attack and back into reality. You don’t want to get back into reality, into the situation you know you’re in. You want to float away, stay ignorant of everything for the next few weeks. What you wouldn’t give to be sedated right now.

But you can’t. You have to exist in this world again, this world that put you in danger, threatened your life, nearly killed you.

You shift in Simon’s arms, wrapping them around his waist, clinging to him. He keeps his arms tight around you, trying to ground you, trying to keep you calm and make you feel safe. You wish it would work. You wish he could keep you there, safe and secure in his arms for the next few weeks while you’re stuck here. He won’t let anything happen to you, none of them will, but it’s not enough. Their promise, their word isn’t enough, not while you’re stuck in this nightmare.

There’s nothing anyone could do to make these next few weeks any easier.

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Until Then

John Price x fem!reader OC

Summary: John Price struggles with commitment with his friends with benefits.

Warnings: sexual themes, swearing, alcohol, friends with benefits, not edited.

——————

Rain was pouring down, beating against umbrellas and window panes rhythmically. The splash of boots through puddles and car horns honking joined the symphony. John Price stopped on his stoop to overlook the busy street and people passing by. It felt good to be home. Nothing like bad British weather as his welcome home.

Flinging his duffle bag over his shoulder John went into his building and took the lift up to his flat. The feeling of his bones aching and muscles sore from the exertion of this last deployment had him relieved to be entering his flat.

It was a brutal time over seas where John was subjected to horror after horror. Not only did he suffer at the hands of his enemies but he had them begging for their lives by the end. It was physically taxing and like a wrecking ball to his mental fortitude. He had spent a week in the hospital for whiplash from a collision and was finally feeling back to his normal self, just stiff.

John’s flat was nice and way more expensive than he ought to be paying; but after growing up poor he felt he deserved a nice place to rest his head. Directly across from the front door was John’s bedroom. Through the front door was a hallway that went right and brought you to the living room and kitchen. In the hallway was a closet and the bathroom. Once in the living room the kitchen was to the right and bisected by a peninsula that separated the two spaces sharing the rectangular room. To the left was John balcony where he commonly smoked.

Flicking on the entryway light John tossed his bag down by the front door and headed straight for the bathroom. He needed a hot shower with good water pressure. The knowledge that he had his bathroom to himself and could take his time and piss in peace was like heaven. It had been too long since he had a simple luxury like that.

After a long hot shower and inhaling some biscuits from the pantry, John flopped down on his bed. Sleep would be evading him for some time now and he knew that. John began to contemplate if he should go to the local shop and get sleep meds to knock him out or drink until he was ready to pass out.

The scent of vanilla seemed to creep into his senses as he mulled over his options. With his head lulling to the side John grabbed the extra pillow he had on his bed and brought it to his nose. Taking a deep breath John finally smiled for the first time being home.

It still smelled like you.

That’s when the memories of you started to invade. Your soft smile in the morning light, how your bed head made you look sexier, and the way you would toss your head back laughing at one of his dumb jokes. How you insisted on keeping a silk pillowcase here because of your hair. The lavender pillow stood out against John’s black sheets and comforter. He missed your laugh. John missed so much about you and had spent the nights while deployed dreaming of you.

Sitting up John reached for his phone and scrolled through his contacts until he saw your name. Clicking on it, he decided that the cherry on top would be you coming over for a well needed shag and some quality time. Then he would take you out for dinner and a couple drinks and bring you to bed again. That would put him to sleep better than any sleeping pill could.

The line rang four times before you picked up. The click made John smile widely and he hoped you were as happy to hear from him as he was to call you.

“Hello?” You sounded confused on the other end which should’ve been John’s first hint. The sound of your music was lightly playing in the background meaning you were home.

“Darling, you busy tonight?” John was confident and there was a tone of mischief in his voice.

You’d gotten this kind of call from John many times. In fact every time he came home from deployment he was calling you over that very night. Usually you were picking up and telling him to get his ass on over or that you’d be at his place soon.

“Yeah. I am.” You said flatly.

John’s face dropped. He’d never gotten that response from you before. Blinking a few times John tried to think of what to say. It seemed like you were upset. But was it with him, or did you have something going on?

“I do something?” John asked, unsure of where your normal sweetness had run off to.

“John, you haven’t called, texted, or had an ounce of communication with me in two months. You’re really expecting I’d put my life on hold and wait around for your call?” John couldn’t see you but he knew you had a scowl etched across your face.

“No. I thought things were casual and we could reach out whenever.” John sounded defensive which was understandable since you were being so curt.

“Well, I’m busy tonight. Call me tomorrow.” Then you hung up.

John still had his phone pressed to his ear as he processed what had just happened. His eyes were stuck on the bobble head on his dresser of a fisherman that you bought him because it looked like him. That’s when a text buzzed through from you.

‘Hope you’re still in one piece. Get some rest, I’ll bring over something sweet tomorrow <3’

Your text gave John whiplash worse than he had while deployed. Shaking his head John tossed his phone on his bed and decided he’d go down to the pub for a drink since you were busy, he just needed to get dressed first

——————

Going out for one beer turned into eight. That was how John found himself standing outside the front door of your flat. Knocking off beat John waited with a cocky smirk. He’d done this before. Showed up at your flat without warning to be pulled in and taken straight to your bed. You saying you were busy amounted to you drowning in paper work in Johns mind. Since he met you, you had trouble having fun when there was work to be done.

The sound of the chain lock being unhooked and turn of the door knob had John straightening up and ready to lay on the charm. The last time he did this it took one warm smile to have you climbing him like a tree. John purposefully wore the burnt orange plaid button up you loved and his old faded jeans you claimed made his ass look good.

Once the door swung open John was met with a man, a shirtless man.

“Who the fuck are you?” John blurted out.

“Adam. Who the fuck are you?” The man retorted without missing a beat.

Adam was tall, taller than John by an inch or two. His shoulders were broad but not as broad as John’s. The man’s physique was just as muscular as John’s but somehow Adam was more toned and more defined. Adam’s torso was hairless as if he waxed. Clearly you had a type and it was tall, muscular, and good looking.

It irked John that this man was what he saw as conventionally attractive. Thick dirty blonde hair, blue eyes, and the face of someone who could be in one of those posh magazines modeling swim trunks. Of course you could pull someone extremely good looking. It all made John sick to his stomach and incredibly pissed off.

“You looking for, Indy? She’s in the shower, you’ll have to give her a minute.” Adam had an arrogant smirk and seemed to be saying this on purpose.

Maybe you had warned him that John might stop by. Or you had told him all about John because this guy Adam was your new boyfriend. It took all of John’s will power to not break Adam’s nose and then toss him down the stairs.

“Wrong flat.” John spoke sharply before turning and leaving.

John was out of your building and walking down the street in record time. His heart was pounding and head spinning. You had another man in your flat. That simple fact was enough to send John in a rage but he controlled himself from beating the other man into a bloody pulp. John didn’t know what to do with this overwhelming feeling of rage and betrayal.

“Fine. I’ll go to the pub and take some bird home.” John growled to himself.

——————

It was morning now and John was incredibly hung over. Blue eyes squinting against the morning light making John’s head throb.

“Ugh, fuck.” Sitting up slowly the memories of the night before started to come into view.

John couldn’t remember what he did after he left your flat. Only that he was pissed off and going to take someone else home. A rock formed in the pit of his stomach and it resulted in quiet panic. Now, being of clear mind, John knew that was horrible idea because it went against everything he had wanted.

“Oh, no.” John whispered to himself and slowly looked at the other side of his bed.

With a sigh of relief it was empty and missing his pillow. Your pillow had been exchanged for John’s so he could smell you as he slept. The sheets were only somewhat disturbed instead of haphazardly pulled back on the bed. It meant John had crawled into bed by himself. John was thankful of his former self not taking anyone home. It’s not what he wanted, he only wanted you.

Stumbling out of bed John made his way to the bathroom to grab some pain killers. Stopping in his tracks John heard the sink shut off. The rock formed in his stomach again and his chest tightened.

“Fuuuuuck.” John’s eyes went wide.

It didn’t matter that you were seeing other guys, John had an inkling that’s what happened when he was away but never asked you. What he promised himself was that it would only be you, no one else. Because if he ever got the nerve to stop avoiding commitment he wanted you to be his. And there was no way you would go for that if you found out he had been sleeping around while stringing you along.

John’s eyes were focused on the bathroom door. It opened and once again John was met with a man instead of what he was expecting.

“Oh, fuckin’ hell. Why are you here?” John passed by his best friend from childhood and went into the living room. Sam followed behind to see what John was doing.

Sam was tall like John and built like him too. He had tawny skin and short corkscrew coils atop his head while the sides were in a tapered fade. Sam had sharp features, full lips, and a scar on his chin from when John pushed him as a young boy and Sam fell and busted it in a rock.

The two had been friends since John could remember. They met at school as young boys and then became inseparable ever since. Even in adulthood when John wasn’t deployed it was rare to find one without the other. John’s own siblings said him and Sam acted more like brothers than John did with his actual brothers.

“Why am I here? You’ve got to be fuckin’ joking. You showed up at my flat saying you needed help making someone disappear. Piss drunk, I might add.” Sam looked and sounded done with John at the moment.

“Did I really?” John asked.

Looking over to his couch John saw the missing pillow from his bed. The blanket Sam used was folded neatly on top of it. John then saw the takeaway containers they must have gotten the previous night sitting on the coffee table amongst beer cans and a bottle of whiskey that was a quarter gone.

“I drank more when I got home?” John looked at Sam feeling mortified with himself.

“No, I had to catch up. You ate enough for four grown men and plotted someone’s murder.” Grabbing the bin from under the sink Sam passed it to John from over the peninsula.

“Right.” John muttered and then started to clean the mess.

“You need to screw your head on straight. You’re not even dating the girl and she’s got you plotting murder.” Rolling his eyes Sam poured him and John a glass of water and pulled out biscuits from John’s pantry. Sam stopped and shook his head at the amount of sweets John had stocked in his flat but absolutely nothing else besides condiments in the fridge.

“You don’t know the half of what happened.” John tried to defend himself while picking up beer cans.

“Oh, I do. You wouldn’t shut up about it last night. How some bloke opened the door when you stopped by her flat. How she was rude to you on the phone but sent you a sweet text. And how you’re expecting her to come over tonight after she’s had ‘a prick named Adam’ over the night before. Oh, and you blathered on and on about what dessert you thought she’d bring over.” Sam laughed through half of what he was saying. He too joined John in cleaning and started to wipe down the counters and eventually made his way to wipe off the coffee table.

“I should lay off the booze.” John mumbled, staring at the whiskey bottle and then adding it to his liquor collection on top of the fridge. He had no intention to stop drinking.

“Yeah, you should. . . Pass me the hoover.” Sam chuckled, then motioned to the vacuum in the corner and then at the crumbs on the rug.

“It’s bad that she has that prick over and then tells me to call her the next day to assumedly sleep with her, right?” John asked and handed over the vacuum to Sam.

“John, think of the stuff you’ve done and how many women you’ve brought home, strung along, and fucked over. Does any of that compare to her living her life while you’re gone for two months and not even her boyfriend?” Sam asked.

John cringed at the question and let Sam vacuum while John thought it over. It was dawning on John that the anger from the previous night was misplaced. It was jealousy he was feeling that you might have moved on to someone better. John liked you, in fact he adored you and wanted no one else. Meeting you made all other women uninteresting and bland.

“Fuuuuck. I can’t be mad about it can I?” John finally said once the vacuum was put away and he now had the mop out.

“No, you fuckin’ can’t be. Either man up and make her your girlfriend or you and your feelings can piss right off on how she lives her life.” It was a pointed statement and blunt honesty that Sam thought John needed to hear.

“I’m still having her over tonight.” John said matter of factly. He was vigorously mopping the floor wanting his flat to be sparkling clean. Some things he learned in the military were impossible to leave behind and having a clean living space was one of them. John was just thankful Sam was as much as a neat freak as he was.

“As you should.” Sam agreed with a laugh. He was by John’s CD collection and looking for an album to listen to before they really started cleaning the flat.

“She’s so bloody hot. Smart, funny, kind. I really should stop dragging my feet.” John muttered the last part.

“Don’t know if you ever will, Johnny boy. You’ve outrun commitment this long and I don’t see you stopping any time soon.” With a shrug Sam put on some Nirvana and then took the mop from John and motioned for him to be the one to clean the bathroom.

“Well, I’ve only been with her since I met her. Step in the right direction, for what it’s worth.” John called over his shoulder.

“Shut up and clean. We both know we’re only doing this so she doesn’t think you’re a pig.”

——————

Staring at his ceiling John’s hairy chest was rising and falling at a rapid pace. His flat smelled like fresh linens and the pumpkin spice candle he had lit hours ago. There was a cool breeze coming from the cracked window that allowed him to hear the rain beating down outside.

“Someone missed me.” Your bright laugh was music to John’s ears.

What you said made him blush. You were right and he had just showed you how much he missed you while molding you into his mattress. He babbled about how he missed having you underneath him, hearing your voice, waking up to you, and your smart mouth. John even went as far to say that you were his, only his and that sweet cunt of yours was his too. You took it as dirty talk not John’s true intention or feelings.

“You like the chest hair?” John was staring down at his tufts of wiry auburn hair.

The hair ran from his chest down the center of his torso, over his naval and then met with the short well maintained curls at his pelvis. It felt gross to John that he was becoming self conscious, he usually never felt that way. But after seeing a hairless man answer your door it made him wonder if that’s what you preferred.

“Love it! You look like a lumber jack. It would be even sexier if you had one of those thick beards I could sit on.” The cheeky smile you wore as you flirted with John was genuine.

“You don’t prefer men who are hairless?” The question was just that to you, a question. You thought it was sweet John was asking your preferences and didn’t think he had any ulterior motives.

“No, not really. I guess I’m more attracted to who the guy is as a person and then what they look like is a bonus.” With a shrug you tossed your pillow at John and then stood to go open the window wider. John admired you as you gazed out at the surrounding area, naked and looking absolutely divine.

“You seeing anyone else?” John’s brain caught up to his mouth after the words had already left it.

“What?” You sounded stunned by the question and turned to look at him. Your face said it all, you were shocked and nervous.

“I’m not. Just want you to know that.” John told you evenly and then dug out a cigar from his nightstand.

“Are we not suppose to see other people? We aren’t dating.” You quirked an eyebrow at him and hid the guilt you were feeling. Crawling on to the bed you sat on your heels, took the lighter from John and lit his cigar for him. It was sweet and sexy how you wanted to cater to him.

“No, it’s whatever you want. I’m just letting you know I’m only seeing you. Have only been seeing you since we met.” John gave you a warm smile and sealed it with a wink.

Deep down he was hoping you would spill your guts about the man he saw at your flat. That it was a fling and you’d never see that guy again. In fact John wanted you to tell him you wouldn’t see anyone but him from now on. That you too felt the same way and he had made all other men seem dull and boring, leaving only him as the one you wanted to grace with your love, time, and affection.

“Oh, okay.” You smiled shyly.

It made your heart ache to hear that John had only been seeing you. In all honesty you thought you were one of many he had on rotation. Thats why you never brought up ground rules to being friends with benefits. The last time you did hurt too much because John said very clearly he didn’t do relationships. John had been transparent that he didn’t want a relationship but enjoyed your company and that was all you had to go off of.

“It’s none of my business-“ John began but you waved your hand for him to stop.

“Then let’s keep it that way. If you want to date and be my boyfriend then I’d love to have a conversation about boundaries and being true to one another. Until then, let’s not make it complicated.” There was no malice in the way you spoke but a strange kindness.

John could see you didn’t want to hurt him in anyway. That having privacy kept him safer. It made him wonder how you were truly feeling about everything going on between you two. But if he asked that, he was scared you would run off because once again he would reject your desire to be in a relationship.

“Breakfast?” John asked after taking a drag of his cigar. The way your bright eyes lit up made John’s chest puff out. He couldn’t deny you loved being taken out on dates and spoiled. John wondered why that was, what had happened in your life that made that so exciting to you.

“If you’re paying, yes.” It was a leading statement that made John beam.

“C’mon. Let me take you out for the day.” John was chuckling watching you give him a cheeky wink, a kiss to the cheek, and then jumping out of bed and humming some song John didn’t know.

“Fun!” You squealed and started to get dressed.

——————

Staring into your bathroom mirror you frowned at yourself. Your makeup was beautiful, outfit cute but a little sexy. Hair was framing your face perfectly. You looked good, great even, better than you usually did for a date. Only, the date was with the wrong guy.

You weren’t sure why everything seemed so flawless tonight when you weren’t particularly excited to be going on another date with someone who wasn’t the man you’d become rather smitten of. This guy was charming, very attractive, and smart; but he wasn’t John Price. That simple fact made him lack luster, it actually made all men seem boring. He was good in bed, muscular, knew what to do and how to get you off. But again, it didn’t hold a candle to the way John could make you feel.

No part of you wanted to hurt John. But you had ideas and goals for your life and being someone’s fuck buddy wouldn’t result in them. You wanted a family, children, a home to call your own. A man like John Price wasn’t going to give you that, and as much as that hurt it didn’t deter you from trying to find a man who would love you enough to give you the world.

That left you where you were now. Walking into a pub with a warm smile at the feeling of Adams arm wrapping around your waist. He wasn’t John, but he was a good match for you. So you forced yourself to smile, be charming, and a pleasure to be around. You didn’t allow yourself to be sarcastic or snarky like how John seemed to like because your smart mouth made him laugh and tease you back.

“What would you like to drink?” Adam smiled at you.

His eyes cast down to your powder blue cotton top. It showed off a tasteful amount of cleavage and clung to your curves nicely. It paired well with your skinny jeans and beige booties. You took notice to his wandering eyes but knew deep down you weren’t feeling like going home with him.

“Um, I’ll do a-“

“Pear martini.” A warm gruff voice finished for you.

Slowly turning you watched John wink and smile at you charmingly then flag down the bartender. You weren’t sure where he came from but it was like he appeared from thin air. He looked good in his black long sleeve that hugged his chest and arms. The jeans he was wearing always made his ass look good and you had trouble keeping yourself from pinching his bottom when he wore them.

Since you had last seen him a week ago John had let his facial hair grow out just how you said you liked it. The tan on his skin had faded into more of a golden glow that brought out the little auburn highlights in his short hair. John looked mesmerizing. It reminded you why it was so incredibly hard for you to move on and forget him. There was a ruggedness to him that most men lacked. The confidence he naturally possessed wasn’t for show but true with a touch of arrogance because he knew he was better than the men around him.

“You’re the bloke who stopped by her flat.” Adam pointed at John and then looked to you.

You felt your whole body flush having both men’s eyes on you. Adam seemed genuinely curious while John was grinning like a smug asshole. His arrogance was palpable and you knew what he was thinking.

‘She’s mine, and no matter what you do she’ll always come running back to me.’

And you were right, that’s exactly what was on John’s mind. His goal in all of this was to scare off your little boyfriend. Show him what a true man looked like and how your eyes always lingered on him.

“Uh, yeah we- uh, we’re friends.” You sounded anxious and it was impossible not to notice.

John was lightly chuckling in a condescending way and grinning to himself at your awkwardness. It was a dead give away that he wasn’t your friend. That there was much more going on between you two and the likes of Adam was not going to stop that.

“Yeah? A friend?” Adam scoffed while staring at John unimpressed.

You knew Adam well enough he was about to insult John. Not to show off but because it would be fun to get a rise out of him. Adam was a shit starter and you knew John would take the bait. The last thing you wanted was for John to start throwing punches because Adam had successfully gotten under his skin.

“Can you just give us a sec.” You smiled awkwardly at Adam and didn’t give him a chance to respond.

Grabbing John by the sleeve of his shirt you yanked him to follow you. He seemed smug, almost happy that you were giving him the time of day. Leaving your date behind to talk to him was an ego boost since you clearly valued a conversation with John more than one with Adam.

“What are you doing?” You hissed once you were near the entrance of the pub. You brought John this way so he would hopefully leave after you berated him.

Glancing back to your date and then to you, John smiled wickedly.

“He fuck you better than me?” John asked, making your jaw drop.

The crude question made you want to smack him. It felt wholly disrespectful. It reminded you that this was all about sex for John. Like you were some object that was his and Adam was encroaching on John’s territory. The sting of rejection from when John told you he didn’t want a relationship hurt ten fold in this moment. John didn’t feel the way you felt about him; at least that’s how it came across to you. And for some reason he didn’t want to make you his girlfriend but found it appropriate to interfere with your love life.

“No, but he’s interested in dating me!” You snapped and then took a breath to calm yourself down.

If you continued to follow your emotions you’d end up crying in John’s face. No part of you wanted him to know how deeply you felt for him. How when he wasn’t around the world didn’t seem as bright. That meeting him had done something to you and changed your life in a way that you were desperately trying to replicate with someone else.

“I’m only seeing you.” John stated as if that were enough.

“Are you my boyfriend?” You asked pointedly.

That seems to sting. John had to look away and gather his thoughts. It hurt to have that thrown in his face. John did want you to be his, but he knew he could never be good to you like the way you deserved. He was away too often and the likelihood he wouldn’t come home to you outweighed the desire to keep you for himself.

“No-“

“Then mind your buisness.” You said matter of factly.

“Is this about me not reaching out? I can call more, see you more, write to you while I’m deployed.” It surprised you to hear John like this. It was almost as if he was pleading with you to take the scraps of affection he was offering now and stop seeing anyone else.

“No, it’s not about any of those things. It’s about me. I want to get married one day and have a family, John. And I can’t do that with a guy who’s fucking around.” That seemed to shut John up.

You had no clue how much hearing that hurt John. John knew he didn’t deserve a happily ever after, a family, white picket fence, with the girl of his dreams. It wasn’t something attainable or sustainable because of who he was and the things he had done.

“Look we can continue whatever this is-” You motioned between you two.

“Until, I find a boyfriend who wants to give me the things I deserve. This is just sex. . . Like you wanted.” It was clear how much you wished it wasn’t just sex and John could see that written on your face.

“Now, I’m going to go back to my date. This’ll probably be the last time he sees me because of the stunt you just pulled. So, thanks.” Letting out an annoyed breath you turned abruptly and left John standing there.

John watched you the entire way to the bar. How you smiled politely and scooted by other patrons. The way you gave your date an awkward apologetic smile and how the man’s response was to give you a long hug. You seemed comfortable with him and he seemed to be smitten with you.

“I’m sorry about him.” You motioned over your shoulder to where you last saw John.

Adam waved it off seemingly unbothered by what happened. It was refreshing to not be met with someone who became jealous or treated you like you were there’s to keep.

“He an ex? Or you still seeing him?” He asked after offering you your drink. It was a pear martini like John had said.

Adam clearly saw the situation for what it was and knew John wasn’t fibbing about your drink of choice. Taking a sip you tried to gather your thoughts on what to say so you didn’t sound like a whore. Adams hand came up and lightly rubbed your back as a way to tell you it was alright.

“Look, we haven’t made anything official-“ You started.

“No worries. I hope you don’t mind I’ve been seeing other people too. Honestly helps me not feel so guilty or like a slag. Know what I mean?” Adam confessed his own behaviors and looked relieved to get it off his chest.

“That’s a relief. I don’t mind at all, I’m still getting to know you.” You let out the breath you were holding and finally relaxed. Part of you thought you’d get accosted for the stunt John pulled, not be accepted.

“Good, I do want to keep seeing you. And maybe soon be more than this.” Caressing his fingers over your jaw Adam smiled at you the way he did before he stole a kiss.

“Yeah?” You whispered and let him press his lips to yours.

“Yeah. You’re lovely.” Adam spoke softly as he pulled away.

John watched you flirt from a distance while that familiar feeling began to take over his gut. He had every intention of respecting your wishes, because you did deserve someone who would give you the world. The prick he watched kiss his girl was not the one, John was certain of that.

——————

Opening his front door John wasn’t sure who would be visiting his flat this late at night. He thought Sam might be returning the favor and showing up piss drunk and sobbing about his ex.

To his surprise it was you. Standing there in your powder blue top and blue jeans looking just as good as you did a few hours ago. Only then you were on a date with someone else and now you were here for John. You wore those eyes that begged for John to do - something, something he could never quite put his finger on.

“Thought he was the one to give you a family and all that-“

“Don’t be a dick.” You scoffed.

Pushing John aside he let you walk into his flat, noticing how your hips swayed confidently like you wanted him to stare at your ass. To his pleasure you walked straight to his bedroom, stripping off your top, revealing the curve of your spine, and tossing it to the floor along the way. Next came your bra and John knew why you were here. With a wicked smirk and sense like he had won, John shut his front door and made his way to you.

~~~~~tag list~~~~~

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[midnight-shadow-cafe]

may i request john price with pregnant reader 🥺

A Kettle on the Stove and a Hand on Your Belly

Pairing: John Price x Pregnant!Reader

Warnings: extreme fluff, soft domestic scenes, implied marriage, pregnancy themes, emotional vulnerability, baby shopping, nursery decorating, Price being the softest husband

Author’s Note: This one is for the soft hearts who love the idea of tough military men melting over the idea of fatherhood. John Price is absolutely that man.

Summary: John Price spends his mornings whispering to your bump, decorating the nursery with you, and spoiling both you and your unborn child with love. It’s domestic bliss, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Masterlist

MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+

The sound of the kettle whistling was the only thing breaking the stillness of the early morning. Outside, the sky was a soft gray, the clouds heavy with the promise of rain, and the house was warm with the scent of tea and something faintly sweet—maybe the last batch of muffins you’d baked late last night when your pregnancy cravings hit full force.

John stood by the stove, hair still slightly tousled, wearing just a pair of joggers and one of his threadbare t-shirts that clung to the muscles of his back. He was moving slowly, quietly, like the world didn’t need to rush anymore.

You were slow to wake these days—pregnancy had a way of draining your energy even before your day began—but when you noticed the absence beside you in bed, you’d followed the whistle of the kettle straight to the kitchen.

He heard your footsteps and turned with a soft smile, eyes dropping instantly to the sight of his hoodie stretched over your body, resting above the gentle curve of your belly.

“Mornin’, love,” he said, voice thick and low with sleep. He crossed the room to you in three long strides and cupped your face, pressing a kiss to your temple before letting his hand drift down to your belly. “How’s my girl?” he added—whether he meant you or the baby, you weren’t quite sure, but it made your chest warm either way.

“You didn’t wake me,” you mumbled, leaning into his touch.

“You looked peaceful,” he said. “Didn’t want to disturb you. And… I like seeing you like this. In my clothes. Barefoot in the kitchen. It’s… bloody perfect.”

You rolled your eyes with a smile, but your heart fluttered at his words. He pulled out a chair for you like the gentleman he always was and guided you into it with a steady hand on your back. Once you were settled, he placed a steaming mug of tea in front of you—your favorite blend, made just the way you liked it.

John crouched in front of you then, his big hand gently resting on your belly, thumb stroking circles over the fabric. The baby shifted, a small kick tapping against his palm, and he let out a quiet chuckle.

“Oi, none of that,” he murmured to your bump, lips brushing against your stomach. “Be nice to Mum this morning, yeah? She needs her tea and at least one hour without you trying to stretch out like a starfish.”

You carded your fingers through his hair, soft and messy, and your throat caught as you whispered, “You’re going to be such a good dad.”

He looked up at you, blue eyes warm and tired and full of something you couldn’t name—something deeper than love. Reverence, maybe.

“Only because I’ve got the best mum sitting right here,” he said.

There was a moment—just a moment—where everything paused. The weight of it all settled in your chest: the quiet mornings like this, the way he spoke to your belly like it was already a person he loved, the safety in his presence.

John leaned forward, resting his forehead gently against your bump, and you saw the way his eyes slipped closed, like he was praying, or maybe just soaking in the peace of it all. “I still can’t believe we’re doing this,” he said quietly.

“Me neither,” you whispered. “But… I wouldn’t want to do it with anyone else.”

He stayed like that for a long while, his hand resting on your belly, the other tangled with yours on the table. And when the first raindrops tapped against the windowpane, you both simply stayed there—two people waiting on a new life, already in love with it before it even arrived.

——

The Next Day

The morning began the way most of them did lately: quiet, slow, warm. The rain outside was a whisper against the windows, and John’s hands were steady where they rested on your belly. The soft hum of the kettle sounded in the background, and you leaned into the comfort of his touch.

He was crouched in front of you, lips brushing your bump, whispering things only the baby could hear.

“I don’t know if you’ll have my eyes or your mum’s,” he murmured, thumb rubbing in slow circles over the fabric of his hoodie you were wearing. “But you’re gonna be beautiful. And clever. Maybe a bit bossy, if your mum’s anything to go by.”

You swatted him lightly, laughing, and his eyes flicked up to you—those warm, sea-blue eyes overflowing with love. He reached up to cradle your face before pressing a kiss to your lips, slow and lingering.

“You didn’t wake me,” you mumbled, still sleepy.

“You looked peaceful,” he said. “Didn’t want to disturb you. Besides, I like seeing you like this. In my hoodie, in our kitchen… belly full of our future.”

You felt your eyes prick with emotion. How did he always know the exact right thing to say?

---

A Week Later – The Baby Store

You weren’t planning on buying anything that day. You just wanted to browse. But the moment you stepped into the baby store, all bets were off.

“I feel like we’re being hunted by pastel colors,” you whispered.

John laughed, pushing a cart now half-filled with onesies, tiny socks, and a baby monitor you “absolutely needed” because he insisted on the best.

He picked up a navy onesie that read “Captain’s First Mate.”

You raised an eyebrow.

“Too on the nose?” he asked, grinning.

“No. It's perfect.”

You stood there in the middle of the store, cradling the onesie between your palms, imagining your baby in it. John slipped an arm around your shoulders and pressed a kiss to your temple.

“We’re really doing this,” you whispered.

“We are,” he said. “And I’ve never been more ready.”

——

Later – The Nursery

The crib was half-built. John sat cross-legged on the nursery floor, frowning at a piece of the frame like it had personally insulted him. You were sitting on the glider, sipping juice, watching him like you always did—full of admiration, pride, and a little bit of amusement.

“You sure you don’t want the manual?” you teased.

“Love, I’ve led black ops missions across enemy lines. I think I can handle a crib.”

You tossed him a plush bear. “You also spent ten minutes trying to screw the leg into the wrong side.”

He smirked but said nothing, returning to the crib with newfound determination. When he finally finished it, he stepped back, arms crossed, chest rising with satisfaction.

The room was slowly coming together. Muted tones, soft blankets, the faint scent of baby-safe detergent. On the wall above the crib was a handmade sign John had surprised you with:

“Welcome Home, Little One.”

You walked over and leaned against him, arms circling his waist. His chin dropped to your shoulder.

“You’ve made this a home,” he whispered. “Before you, it was just four walls and a bed.”

You turned in his arms, sliding your hands over his chest. “Now it’s where our life begins.”

---

That Night – In Bed

You were curled into John’s side, one of his hands splayed across your belly like he was guarding both you and the baby in his sleep.

Then the baby kicked.

His eyes snapped open, breath catching.

“There it is again,” he said softly, palm warm against your skin. “She’s getting stronger.”

“She likes your voice,” you whispered. “Always responds to you.”

“She, huh?” he teased. “You picking favorites already?”

“She’s got your whole heart and she’s not even here yet. Of course she’s my favorite.”

He kissed your forehead. “You’ve both got mine.”

You laid in silence after that, your bodies tangled under the blankets, your hearts so full it felt like you could float away. You could feel it in the air, in every kiss and whispered promise between you:

You were loved. Fully. Fiercely. Completely.

And in a few short weeks, your little one would be, too.

Hope you enjoyed! Please consider liking and reposting! -Midnight💜

[forsworned]

Being the only female on TF141 is like Simon constantly scolding you for getting into sheningans with Johnny and Kyle while Price sits on his arm chair with a good book, whiskey in hand and him puffing out smoke like a chimney from his cigar like the daddy he is.

"Delete it."

"Why?"

"Cos I fockin' said so."

You cock an amused brow at him as you look up from the embarrassingly cute photo of the skull-masked behemoth fast sleep and cuddling your Hello Kitty plushie. "Cos y'fockin' said so?" You mock his gravelly Manchester accent and it sends Johnny and Kyle into a fit of giggles. And even Price is chuffed by it. It's contagious really.

It lets your guard down enough for him to yank your phone out of your hand deleting the picture with a swiftness that made your eyes ream and your heart jump. You all groan and jeer at him for being a poor sport but he's quite satisfied with himself. Little does he know, you have a few copies of it in your desktop.

[oaksgrove]

Oak’s Second Masterlist ─.✦

No rush here. Take your time, the stories aren’t going anywhere.

— fics!

Call of Duty:

Simon “Ghost” Riley

Break the Oath - Prince!Simon x Knight!Reader

Oathkeeper - Knight!Simon x Queen!Reader

Kyle “Gaz” Garrick

The Light is On - Gaz x Roommate!Reader

— blurbs!

Call of Duty:

Passenger Princess - 141 (individual) x Reader

Princess Treatment - 141 (individual) x Reader

Oak’s Masterlist ──.✦

No rush here. Take your time, the stories aren’t going anywhere.

second masterlist

— fics.ᐟ

Call of Duty:

Task Force 141

Lieutenant‘s Sanctuary - platonic!141 x Reader

Family Comes First - platonic!141 x Reader

Eternal Bonds - platonic!141 x child!reader

The Best-Kept Secret - platonic!141 x married!Reader

The Code-Breaker - platonic!141 x Reader

Simon “Ghost” Riley

Wrong Graves, Right Heart - Simon x Reader

Wrong Graves, Right Heart (part 2) - Simon x Reader

A Life Left Behind - Simon x ex!reader, John Price x Reader

Partner’s Curse - Ghost x Jinxed!Reader

The Perfect Match - Book Store Owner!Simon x Reader

The Neighbour Next Door - Neighbour!Simon x Reader

John Price

A Life Left Behind - Simon x ex!reader, John Price x Reader

A Captain for Christmas - John Price x Reader

Winning Them Over - John Price x Younger!Reader

The one you call - John Price x Reader

Captain’s New Year (‘A Captain for Christmas’ sequel) - John Price x Reader

The Captain and the Captain; Mission Parameters: Undefined - John Price x Reader

The Captain and the Captain; Operation Matchmaker - John Price x Reader

Charmed by Two - John Price x singlemom!Reader

Playing for Keeps - RugbyCaptain!John Price x Reader

Lazy Sunday Mornings - Retired!John Price x Reader

More Than Temporary - John Price x Introvert!Reader (V-Day Special!)

Fixer-Upper - John Price x Reader

Midnight Cravings - John Price x Pregnant!Reader

Strict Schedules, Except... - John Price x Reader

The Little Things - John Price x Reader

Say a Little Prayer - John Price x Jazz Singer!Reader

Don’t Be an Idiot, John. - John Price x Reader

Steady as Ever - John Price x Autistic!Reader

Through Sickness and Health - John Price x Wife!Reader

Kyle “Gaz” Garrick

The sweet side of bravery - Gaz x paediatrician!reader

The sweet side of Bravery (part 2) - Gaz x paediatrician!reader

Slow Burn - Gaz x Reader +18!

Still With You - Gaz x Deaf!Reader

Open Door Policy - Gaz x Wife!Reader

Johnny “Soap” Mctavish

Lego Legends: Moving Day Shenanigans - Soap x Reader

König

Welcoming Gift - König x Reader

Waiting for a Miracle - König x Reader

Unexpected Reaction - König x Reader

A Quiet Place - König x GN!Reader

Just The Two Of You - König x Wife!Reader

Keegan

A Place to Call Home - Keegan x Reader

Camouflage Gone Wrong - dad!Keegan x mom!Reader

Alex Keller

Perfectly Imperfect - Alex Keller x Insecure!Reader

Sebastian Krueger

The Weight of Perfection - Sebastian Krueger x Reader

Nikto

Nikolai

Soft Spot - Nikolai x Reader

Gary “Roach” Sanderson

Hungover Surprise - Gary x Reader

Alejandro Vargas

Too Late - Alejandro Vargas x Reader

Rodolfo “Rudy” Parra

Tiempo Perdido - Rodolfo Parra x Reader

Phineas and Ferb:

Montgomery “Monty” Monogram

Undercover Nurse - Monty Monogram x Reader

Major Francis Monogram

Romantic Vacation - Francis Monogram x Reader

The Arcana

Muriel

Roots - Muriel x Pregnant!Reader

[tobeholyistobeempty]

prices version of brat taming / punishment is literally just tying you up, cutting your clothes off calmly and sitting you nice and pretty on his cock as he holds a vibe to your clit. smokes a cigar while you’re squirming and cumming over and over, cock throbbing against your spasming walls with each o but he’s a man of restraint when he needs to be. maybe if you beg nice enough he’ll fuck you through your last few.

[siriuslysmutty]

Thinking thoughts about John watching football... (its filthy smut)

Warnings: 18+, MDNI, m!recieving oral.

For my readers with an oral fixation...

John and you have a fairly new relationship. The sex still pretty vanilla but good. The type where you're both exploring still. And you know he doesn't like to be distracting watching football but you're anxious and fluttery and you crack while he's lounge back in a jersey and sweats on a rare day of leave.

And he just lifts an eyebrow at the sheepish way you creep into the room. Like youre about to get in trouble only for you to mumble out a "Can I just... suck it for a little while?"

The other eyebrow joins the first and you get a nod.

He's expecting you to be working him over eager and fast, maintaining eye contact and maybe five minutes of his attention-...

But you don't do that. No. You start out a little sweet and hesitant, soft kisses on his tip, nuzzling and kitten licking his balls. It's a little distracting but he gets to watch when you take him in, still a little soft, and just *suckle*. Your eyes drooping half closed and just slow, soft suckling of his half hard cock gets him fully erect in seconds.

He can see it. The daze. The relaxation that sags your shoulders. The drool leaking from your hot, wet, mouth. It's slow and a little sloppy. More for you to have something in your mouth.

Now this he can get used to. Sipping a beer, watching footie, with you just absolutely zoned the fuck out, facedown in his lap. He gets to just gently rock his hips up into the hot little cavern. You go at it so slow and careful that your swallowing around him regularly, jaw loose and head of his cock just gently bumping your soft pallet- ohhh and then the back of your tongue.

He can thread his hand onto the back of your head to guide softly... all the while those eyes remain unfocused and lazy. He can see the way your absolutely fucking lost to it. Its worth all the drool getting the couch wet below him.

Even better when you take breaks to lap and suck on his balls and kiss and nuzzle his thighs.

It takes him ages to cum but Jesus, the entire time is heavenly. Not even edged, just the laziest building orgasm. Sloppy blow jobs, you making out with his cock like your fucking addicted. Maybe you are. He's your fix and its *filthy*.

Only downside to his now regularly scheduled program is he's pavloved to get hard everytime footie comes up now. The lads are gonna be relentless if they catch on...