#John “Down Bad” Price

[sentientcave]

Presenting Sadie Blackmoore-Price in Nobody Does it Better

Sadie wouldn't have worn this dress if she'd known that her ex-husband, SAS Major John Price would be here.

Read on AO3

Contains: Trips down memory lane, Attempts to rekindle a failed marriage, Set in the future (roughly 2032), Oral sex (F and M receiving), P in V sex, Unprotected sex (don't do this), Brief daddy kink (You can't tell me John Price doesn't love being called daddy I simply will not believe you), Tabloid mentions, Sadie is a politician (Politicians in real life aren't sexy but this is a fantasy world where the UK Secretary of Defense can be a hot MILF), One mention of possible stalking.

~7.1k - Minors and Ageless Blogs Do Not Interact -

Sadie felt his presence before the big hand landed lightly on her back. Before he leaned over her and spoke, his deep voice rumbling like thunder. “Excuse me, gents, was wondering if I could borrow the lady for a moment.”

They evaporated in an instant. John had that effect on people.

“Hi, John.” Sadie didn’t bother looking at him. Or resisted looking at him, rather. At an official function like this, he’d be wearing his dress uniform, and it always reminded her, rather unfairly, of their wedding day. And that always reminded her of him pulling her away from the reception to absolutely wreck her with his fingers and tongue, until she was so frustrated that she ended up dragging him off to their hotel room and riding his cock, both of them in too much of a rush to get undressed.

“Hello, sweetheart,” he purred, his rough fingertips gliding over her exposed back. She wouldn’t have chosen that particular dress if she’d known John would be there. “You look gorgeous.”

She turned her head slightly, eyebrows raised. “Don’t give me that, John. Your last girlfriend was nearly Scout’s age.”

“Keeping tabs on me, are you?” He steered her to the side of the room with just the barest pressure, all too easily despite her efforts to remain aloof, unaffected.

“Of course I am. I thought you were in the states this week, running those joint combat exercises with the marines.”

“Hm, is that why you wore this dress? Because you thought I was all the way across the Atlantic?” His touch skirted up her spine, hand settling on the back of her neck. “Who are you trying to impress, darling?”

“Kate and Michelle are here.”

“Ah, so they are. You hopin’ to take them home?”

Sadie shrugged, heat gathering high on her cheeks. “Might be.”

“Think I can change your mind?”

“No.”

His fingers squeezed slightly. It took everything she had not to melt all over the floor. Even after all these years apart, he still knew how to play her body like a fiddle. He leaned in close, his breath tickling her ear. “Are you so sure? I’m fairly confident that I can, and we can’t both be right.”

“What makes you think that?” Sadie scoffed, glancing around the room, looking for someone she could flag down or start a conversation with to escape, but every time she made eye contact with someone, they quickly looked away. No one quite brave enough to consider pissing off Major Price by interrupting his little reunion. It was a shame he was still so effective. It would be one hell of a power play if she could get his ass fired.

“Because you won’t look at me. I know this uniform reminds you of our wedding night.” He smiled when she finally looked over, exasperated. “There’s my Sadie.”

“John, I’m not your anything anymore. Haven’t been for a long time.”

His hand dropped to her waist, and he tugged her along beside him. If she’d had any sense, she would have shoved him away and gone home alone immediately. It wasn’t as if she was going to get any networking done with John hanging over her shoulder and making everyone nervous.

“You’ll always be mine, Sadie. You kept my name, didn’t you?”

“That doesn’t mean anything. It was for Scout—”

“Hm, that might’ve flown as an excuse ten years ago, Sadie. You’ve been married and divorced since then. Could’ve taken his last name. Could’ve dropped mine.” Somehow, he’d guided her into a side hallway, gotten her alone and isolated before she could regroup. He backed her against a wall, strong arms caging her in. “But you didn’t. Are you going to tell me that your rings aren’t hung on this little chain?” His blunt fingertips followed the thin necklace, halting short of where it disappeared under her dress.

“I hate you.”

He slipped a finger under the chain and pulled it free, her engagement and wedding rings clinking against each other faintly. “I really don’t think you do, darlin’.”

He let the rings fall, on the outside of the dress now, her inconvenient sentimentality brought to light. Sadie took a deep breath, glaring at him, readying a tirade that would make him wish he was in America like he was supposed to be.

All of those keen soldierly instincts told John exactly what she was going to do, so he struck first, diving in for a kiss before she could tear him to little pieces. And he kissed just like he used to, too much tongue, enthusiasm bordering on desperation, like he would perish if he didn’t get a proper taste of her.

For years, Sadie had been so careful to not let him get his hands on her, keeping doors and distance between them, making sure their daughter was always present when they had to be in a room together, to keep John from getting too handsy, dressing conservatively so he couldn’t stroke his clever fingers against bare skin. He’d ambushed her tonight, gotten under her guard before she’d even known he was there.

She had always known that the instant he touched her like this that she’d be helpless, all good sense thrown to the wolves as she returned the kiss, clinging to his shoulders to pull him closer, knocking the beret off his head as she ran her fingers through his thick, dark hair. He didn’t even have the decency to go bald, like most men their age. In her opinion, he looked better than he had when they were married— The last few times he’d come sniffing around looking for another chance, she’d nearly given it to him. The muttonchops would have looked ridiculous on anyone else, but it had taken considerable effort on her part not to drag him inside by the collar and kiss him senseless the first time he’d shown up with that precisely trimmed beard with a bouquet of her favourite flowers in hand (gladiolus and roses and carnations, something he’d picked out specifically, not out of some catalogue). She’d kept the flowers, and slammed the door in his face.

When her husband asked about them, she’d lied through her teeth and told him that she’d picked them up for herself on the way home.

John kissed his way across her jaw to her ear. “You still livin’ in that big flat on Knightsbridge?” he purred.

“Oh, um—” a familiar voice squeaked nervously, pulling Sadie and John’s attention to the nervous face of Sadie’s assistant, a bubbly, round-faced young woman named Emily. She eyed John with the sort of wide-eyed wariness that one might usually reserve for a wild animal. “Sorry, Madam Secretary. The French ambassador was looking for you. But I’ll, um, tell him you’ve gone home early?”

“Yes, thank you, Emily,” Sadie said, as professionally as she could with John still unashamedly feeling her up.

“Have someone bring her car around, would you, pet?” John asked, smiling wickedly at the poor girl.

Sadie nodded when Emily looked a her for confirmation, and watched as she fled the hall as fast as her sensible flat shoes could take her. “John, you couldn’t behave yourself for all of one minute?” she asked tiredly.

“Certainly not. Got about twenty years to make up for.”

“You’re not going to manage that in one night,” Sadie said, laughing and then gasping as he kissed across her collarbone and back to her neck, tongue dragging across her pulse. “And you’re not getting more than one night.” He hummed, unconvinced, teeth finding purchase at the junction of her neck and shoulder. She hung on to him tightly, the solid bulk of his body the only thing keeping her upright. “John, come on, let’s go wait for the ca-a-ar,” her voice broke on the last word as he pinched her nipple through the fabric of her dress. “John, please, just wait till we get home.” She regretted the phrasing instantly. “Back to mine, I mean.”

Too late. He pulled back to look at her, eyes shining with clear, wicked intention. “Home, huh?” He pressed his forehead to hers, so that she couldn’t escape looking right at him.

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Oh? But it’s what you said, isn’t it?” His fingers closed around the rings, and he tugged lightly, snapping the thin chain, his other hand tracing along the outside of her left arm to find her wrist. The chain slipped through his fingers to the floor.

“John, what are you doing?” Sadie asked.

“Something I should’ve done years ago,” he replied, lifting her hand so he could slot the rings back onto her finger. He brushed a kiss across her knuckles, eyes sparkling. “Now, lets get home hm? Want to see if that pretty cunt tastes as good as I remember.” He stepped back, keeping his hand closed around hers so that she couldn’t take the rings back off to fling them at him, and stooped down to grab his hat, fixing it back into place.

“John, we’re not together again, this is not going to be— John!” She squeaked, a thoroughly undignified sound, as he scooped her off her feet, holding her against his chest in a bridal carry. “You’re going to make a scene!” she hissed. “Don’t— No, don’t go that way!”

The stares that landed on them as John carried her through the main room were humiliating, to say the least. She accidentally made eye contact with the French ambassador, who winked at her. He’d probably only just gotten her excuse from Emily, and now he knew that she was lying and leaving with her ex-husband. She was sure to be the centre of some truly ridiculous gossip for a little while.

John smiled wolfishly, pleased as punch that they were getting looks, striding across the room like he owned the entire world. He’d always been arrogant, so sure of himself, and it had only gotten worse, twenty years of experience telling him that he could have anything he wanted, so long as he possessed the will to reach out and take it. He was laying claim, telling everyone in the room, her colleagues, friends, acquaintance and strangers, that she was his. Maybe in his mind, she had never been anything else.

“You’re awful, you know that, don’t you?” Sadie asked. “I should never have married you.”

“I know. But don’t say that. We’d never have had Scout if we hadn’t.”

“That’s true. I suppose I’m glad we did then.” As if Sadie could ever regret their daughter, that was so much like her, and so much like John, and somehow so much better than the both of them.

"We could have more. It's not too late," he murmured, leaning in close.

Sadie caught the gleam of a camera lens and quickly put her hand up to obscure as much of John's face as she could, realizing half a moment too late that she'd just flashed her wedding rings at the bloody press. "John, I am forty-six years old. I'm not having more children."

He smiled. "Sure I can't convince you? Another girl, just like Scout? Or maybe a son, as smart and driven as you are, my nose and your eyes." He ignored the few shouted questions and loaded her into the car that idled beside Emily. "Thanks, duck," he said, sliding in beside Sadie. "I've got her from here."

"Do you need a ride home, darling?" Sadie asked, leaning across John and speaking through the rolled down window. "I don't want to leave you all alone. Ben can drop us at my building and take you home."

Emily nodded and slid into the front seat. "Thank you, ma'am. I was going to call a cab."

"No, absolutely not. I know Ben would be happy to drive you anywhere you need. Don't hesitate to ask him." Sadie reached forward and patted the driver on the shoulder. “Right, Ben?”

He grinned at her through the rearview mirror. “Of course, ma’am. Miss Emily is my second favourite passenger.”

“He’s angling for a raise,” Sadie said to John, laughing. “And he is about due for one, by my accounting.”

“Wouldn’t know, ma’am,” Ben said blithely.

John’s hand landed on Sadie’s thigh. He’d always been a bit of a jealous bastard, even in situations like this one, where it made no sense for him to be. Even if Ben were not her employee, he was at least fifteen years younger, and she was fairly sure he had a little crush on Emily. But what did she know, really? She had never been that good at identifying those kind of feelings, in herself or others. Always had to rely on what people told her. She recognized fear, ambition, could spot a lie like it was lit up with a neon sign. When it came to love, she compared everything and everyone to John, and no one ever matched his intensity.

There was no doubt that they would be fighting within a day, and that she’d throw him out after three, on the outside, but there was still something between them. He had that same mischievous glint in those blue eyes as he had the day they’d met at some house party one of her friend’s older sisters had thrown. John had been a friend of a friend of the sister’s boyfriend, there more by chance than anything else. He’d punched out some creep that had been all over her, and of course, that meant that she was his girl, from then on.

Other than a kiss that shook her whole world to it’s foundations, the first few months of their relationship had been conducted by letters and emails and text messages, each with separate conversations. He was smart, as well as handsome and tough, and he wrote directly, bluntly, dryly, interspersed with sentences that read more like poetry. The sky is red, this morning, like the dress you wore, like the lipstick marks you left on my collar. I thought missing you would feel blue.

How could she do anything except jump into his arms when she saw him next?

He asked her to marry him three times-- She'd said no the first two, because she was young, still in college, still figuring herself out, and yes the third, because he was persistent, because he loved her, because he wanted to know she'd be taken care of if anything happened to him. As if there was any risk, really. She came from a wealthy family, old money on her father's side and new on her mother's. Her parents made him sign a prenup, and bought them a house as a wedding present. Or bought Sadie a house, rather, and John lived there whenever he was home. The distance might have chafed for anyone else, but Sadie liked having time to herself, to focus on school, her friends, the summer work at her father's arms manufacturing facility. John was like a vacation from everything else, a whirlwind that hit a few times a year.

Then he'd started talking about family, about having kids, about turning that pleasant whirlwind of affection into a tornado that would last all year, all of every day. She'd aborted the first pregnancy, too scared to tell John-- She still hadn't told him-- but she didn't have the same excuses when the next pregnancy took root. Sadie graduated eight months pregnant with Scout.

The problem with being a mother, was that she was expected to put so much on hold. John had been out in the field when Scout was born, and she'd been alone for the first few months, barely holding it together. John's mother had been a great help, coming a few times a week to help her tidy up and make sure she was eating, but she resented John his freedom. She hated him for being far away, for fatherhood changing nothing for him and everything for her.

John’s facial hair tickled her ear when he leaned in close. They were just pulling up to he building now. “Where’d you go, Sadie?”

She let him help her out of the car, and bid goodbye to Ben and Emily before responding. “Just thinking about where it all went wrong.”

He sighed, hurt flashing in his eyes. “Come on, Sadie. You don’t want to think about that.”

“Someday, I’d love to stop thinking about it,” she said, forcing a laugh.

“I know where it went wrong,” John said, crowding her into the lift and pressing her up against the wall before she could press the button for her floor. “I never should have let you kick me out. Should’ve worked it out right then and there.”

“Your way of working things out never fixed anything, John. Just made us forget a little while.” She sighed, smoothing her hands down the front of his jacket. “Maybe you should just go. This is a bad idea.”

John quickly leaned over and hit the button for the top floor. “It’s not a bad idea, Sadie. We still belong together.”

That kind of talk was the exact reason why she shouldn’t even consider rekindling anything. He wanted a night or two of passion to mean something more, and she couldn’t let it be more. But the lift doors opened, and he ushered her out into her foyer, kissing the back of her shoulder and neck while she unlocked the door. He didn’t give her a chance to try to shut him out, using every dirty trick he could think of to keep he off balance. She offered him a drink, hoping to prolong things, talk for a moment, and he accepted, but he pushed her over the back of her couch as soon they reached it, and sank to the floor behind her, pushing her dress up over her hips.

“John!” she complained. “That’s not what I meant by—” The sharp snk of a blade opening, the back of the blade running along her skin cut her off. He sawed through the silky fabric of her panties in seconds, rather than contend with the garter clips and stockings. He’d always had a thing for garter belts.

“Sorry?” he asked. “What were you saying?”

“I—” She bit back a whimper as he licked across her cunt, the tip of his tongue parting her folds to taste her. His hands slid up her thighs to her ass, squeezing appreciatively.

“Didn’t quite catch that, love.” His voice was a bit breathy, like the smallest taste of her was enough to knock the wind out of him.

“Oh shut up, John,” Sadie said crossly. “You’re doing that on purpose!”

He chuckled, biting down hard on her ass. Probably intentionally trying to leave a mark, the bastard. For all his bluff and bluster, he knew just as well as she did that this was only temporary, and he wanted to make sure she remembered it for a long while afterwards. She tried to kick him, but he just caught her leg and pushed it up and to the side, giving himself more room as he pressed his face to her cunt and started feasting on her, groaning.

The sounds he made were filthy— It was almost impressive how much John could make it seem like eating pussy was more for him than for her— and it seemed more that he was getting reacquainted with a long lost love than actively trying to get her off. Still, he knew exactly what he was doing, like he’d memorized the steps to have her come apart on his tongue, tight circles around her clit with the tip of his tongue, hard sucks that he pulled away from with a slick, wet pop, licking into her hole and lapping up arousal, growling and groaning, hands holding her in place with a bruising grip.

He brought her to the edge three times, but didn’t tip her over. He wanted her begging. It wasn’t enough for him that she was practically sobbing into the couch cushions, breath catching, crying out desperately. Well, she wasn’t going to entertain the notion. “John, if you don’t make me come in the next thirty seconds, I’m going to kick you out and call someone who will.”

He laughed, surmising that she didn’t exactly have a list of casual lovers that she could call up on a moments notice (not entirely accurate, with Kate and her wife in town), or maybe thinking she was joking (she wasn’t), but he picked up the pace regardless, sliding two thick fingers into her cunt and replacing his tongue with his thumb. “Impatient as always,” he chastised her. “You can come, baby. Come all over daddy’s fingers.”

His voice was so sexy now, roughened by age and years of smoking. It was hard to say if it was that growled command or the over-stimulation, or the way he curled his fingers inside her that sent her into cataclysm, but she came hard, legs shaking, muffling her cry in the cushions. He continued the cruel-clever movement of his fingers to draw out her orgasm.

“Fuck, gorgeous girl, I missed this pussy. Just as tight and wet as I remember.”

Sadie pushed herself up on shaking arms as he withdrew his fingers. She tried to think of something appropriately cutting, but she hadn’t come like that in ages, and it was a bit flattering to think that she had changed so little in all the years. He had changed— Not just the timbre of his voice, but the patience of his touch, the way he sought to unravel her completely, show her that experience had only made him better.

He wrapped an arm around her and dragged her upright, onto legs that wobbled like a newborn fawn, still recovering. He pulled her close, pressing a kiss to the back of her neck, breathing her in. “Can’t believe you still wear the same perfume,” he said wistfully. “I like this one.”

“I usually don’t. I felt like doing something different.” Sadie swatted at him playfully, laughing despite herself when he rubbed his face against her shoulder. “John, your beard is soaked,” she complained.

She could feel his grin. “And who’s fault is that?”

“Yours! You decided to grow that silly thing.” She turned in his arms, tipping her head to the side while she studied him. “I do think it suits you.”

“Yeah?” He puffed up slightly from the praise, eyes sparkling with mirth. “You don’t think I look old now?” he asked, keeping his tone light, hiding real insecurity under that teasing facade.

“No. Seasoned. Experienced, maybe. But not old yet.” Sadie carded her fingers through his hair, smiling to reassure him that she meant it. “I think you look better now than you did twenty years ago.”

Something in his eyes turns soft, loving. “You think so?”

“Of course I do. Now stop looking at me like that.” She kissed him, tasting herself on his lips, salt and sweet. “You know we can’t get back together, John. You only think it would work because you’re just remembering the good parts. I know they were really good, but there’s no road back.”

“I’m not askin’ for things to be the same, Sadie.” He brushed his knuckles against her spine, the other hand anchored on her hip, keeping her close. “Maybe things could be better now.” He swayed, moving her along with him, turning slow circles like they were dancing.

“John,” Sadie said softly. “I can’t give you what you need. You still want a family, more kids, a wife who wants to be at home to raise them with you. We can’t turn back the clock, and even if we could, that wasn’t the life for me then, and it’s definitely not for me now.”

“I still love you.” And god help her, he meant it.

“I know, John. I love you too. I always will. But—”

He kissed her again, a long, lingering one that sent prickles down her spine. He didn’t want to hear it, still wanted to draw out the delusion a little longer. “Let me take you to bed.” He spoke with a voice laced with devotion, near zealotry. Too stubborn to stop worshipping at the alter of their failed marriage, still trying to rebuild a house that had burned down long ago. John Price hated to admit defeat, hated to be wrong.

“Alright,” she whispered it back, as if trying to sneak it past good sense and self-preservation. Those parts of herself would have to cede ground tonight, relent enough for them both to get this out of their systems.

Once more, with feeling. Just one night for them to pretend that what was broken could be fixed, that there was something to rebuild on that old foundation, even though they both knew better.

John picked her up again and carried her to her bedroom. Funny that he remembered the way so well, even though he had only been to the apartment a handful of times, and not once had been invited to her room. Of course, knowing John, he’d broken in dozens more times and been over every inch of the place. Something that probably should have bothered her, but just felt par for the course. He might have still been in love with a girl long gone, but she knew well the kind of man her first husband had become. A General in all but name, someone who controlled the battlefield, commanded respect, and saw obstacles as inconveniences overcome with enough grit and determination. Boundaries were just lines in the sand, erased and rewritten on a whim.

He set her down and turned her, undoing the buttons that held the halter straps of the dress around her neck, and then ran his hands over the sides of the dress, searching for the zipper. He found it quickly, and Sadie let the gown slip to the floor, her heels clicking as she stepped free from the pool of silky material and turned toward John, turning her face up for a kiss while she loosened his tie and he shed his jacket, throwing it behind him blindly. She took her time with the buttons of his shirt, revealing an expanse of dark hair thick over powerful muscle. Yet another part of him that had improved with age.

John tossed the shirt in the same direction as his jacket, and stilled her hands when she reached his belt. “Greedy girl,” he said smugly. “But you’re going to have to ask nicely if you want daddy’s cock.”

An old tactic that used to fluster her. At least all of his tricks didn’t still turn her into a useless puddle of need. Sadie kissed him again, nipping at his lower lip, fingernails dragging down his neck lightly. “Please?”

“Please what, sweetheart?” he asked.

Her fingertips trailed down his chest. “I didn’t make you beg, did I?”

“No, you just made me wait twenty bloody years.” John grinned, cupping her face and pulling her in for yet another kiss, like he couldn’t get enough of her, reminded of simpler times, when they both were young, optimistic and in love. No one kissed like John did, like he needed her more than air. His fingers carded back into her hair, scattering pins all over the floor, her careful updo undone. He steered her backwards until her knees hit the bed, and pushed her down gently, pulling his mouth away from hers as he straightened back up.

“You know why I stayed away, John. We both needed to move on. And you did.” She hooked her fingers into his belt and tugged him closer, parting her thighs so he could stand between them. The rings on her finger winked at her in the low light, reminding her that it wasn’t him that had struggled to move on.

As if there was anyone else that even compared.

She kissed his stomach, appreciating the soft layer he’d accumulated over the past few years of desk work, hands planted on his thighs. She looked up at him through her lashes. “Are you going to let me take care of you?”

“Since you asked so pretty,” he said, his beautiful hands finally dropping to the belt buckle, making a show of freeing his cock while she waited impatiently. He gave himself a few rough strokes, his other hand settling in her hair to keep her from leaning forward until he gave her the go ahead. She hated to admit it, but this was the cock that she measured all else against. Thick, just the right length to fill her completely without it becoming painful, and pretty, uncut, the tip flushed pink. “Show me that tongue, Sadie,” he growled.

She obeyed, opening her mouth wide and sticking her tongue out for him.

He tapped his cock against her tongue, smearing salty pre across it. She tried to dip forward and take him into her mouth, but John held her back by her hair, grinning down at her. "So eager for me. Did you miss this cock, Sadie? None of your little boyfriends ever compared, did they?"

"No," she said, and it was the truth. No one had ever compared to him— It seemed unfair that she'd met him so young, that he'd ruined her for anyone else before she even knew how rare men like him were. He was flawed, yes, deeply flawed, and she'd never been soft enough to accommodate his sharp edges, but he made love the same way he made war, fully, completely, with his entire being. "None of them have even been half as good."

That seemed to please the proud, jealous animal in his chest. His blue eyes glittered with satisfaction, and he let her lean forward to close her lips around the tip of his cock.

The sound he made when she did ran down Sadie's spine like electricity. Another thing she’d always liked about him. He was appreciative as she licked and sucked and stroked his cock, vocal, growling out praise like he couldn’t bear to stop, a litany of good girl, and fuck, just like that, and god, you look so beautiful like this and more that she could barely make out, like he had lost his ability to enunciate the moment she swallowed around the tip of his cock. It was tough to take him that far— Her jaw ached already from the effort of keeping her teeth away from sensitive skin, but it was worth it for the way his knees shook, the hands buried in her hair gripping so tight that she couldn’t help but moan.

That was what pushed him over the edge. The thought that she enjoyed it as much as he did. “Fuck, Sades, m’gonna—” He couldn’t even finish the sentence before he came, spilling thick, hot spend over her tongue. She swallowed it down, licking any trace of it from his too sensitive cock, until he growled and pulled her away. “Bloody hell, you’ve learned some new tricks.”

“Of course I have.” She leaned back on one hand, watching him shed the rest of his clothes while she ran her other thumb under her bottom lip, rubbing away the pale remnants of lipstick that had been bright red earlier in the evening, until John kissed most of it away. There was probably some smeared on the couch cushions too. “It has been twenty years.”

John dropped down to one knee and picked up her foot, unbuckling the strap of her shoe and easing it off. “Far too long, darlin’. Missed you somethin’ fierce.” He dug his thumb into the arch of her foot, humming contentedly when she sighed and sank back onto her elbows. “There’s never been anyone that compared to you either.”

“Flatterer.”

“I’m serious, Sadie. No one. I hate that we weren’t together all this time. Should’ve been better for you. Should’ve listened more.” The blue of his eyes in the low lamplight was sincere, piercing, like he needed her to understand just how grievously sincere he was, how much he meant it.

That was John, though. A man that couldn’t give up his vices, no matter how much they hurt him. Conviction that would outlive the earth and all the stars in the sky. At the end of the universe, it would just be John, gripping tight to what remained, jaws sunk deep into what he couldn’t bear to let go of.

“I let you go for a reason, John. Love isn’t always enough. You wanted me to be something I wasn’t, and I couldn’t be what you needed. I could hardly be what Scout needed. I probably failed there.” She reached out, brushing her fingertips through his hair and down the side of his neck. “I wanted you to find someone else. I was a bad wife and a terrible mother.”

His eyes dropped, hands moving to take off her other shoe, mouth set in a grim, unhappy line. “You weren’t. I should’ve been there. You kept telling me you needed me there, and I didn’t listen.”

“It’s in the past.” Nothing could be changed at that point. Sadie wasn’t sure that she would have changed anything. “You have to forgive yourself, John. It’s not your fault things didn’t work, and it’s not mine either. Sometimes People just don’t belong together. We would have made each other miserable.”

“I still think we could make it work.”

“Ever the optimist,” Sadie teased. “Let’s not worry about tomorrow, John. Let me show you how much I missed you.”

That spurred John to his feet. “You just did, darlin’. I think it’s my turn again.”

They settled closer to the head of the bed, his arms wrapped around her possessively while they kissed. Some of the frenetic energy of earlier was gone now, need giving way to want. The enthusiasm from earlier was still present, but John set a languid, easy pace as he licked into her mouth, matching faded anamnesis to new reality, committing every detail to memory. His hands roamed, pulling her tighter against him, as though hoping to pull her into his own skin, desperate for reconnection, apprehensive of the severance they both knew would come. His touch was none too gentle, palms pressed firmly to skin as he explored every inch of her. He needed to map and catalogue the terrain, ever the soldier, familiarizing himself with the field of battle.

She allowed herself a similar exploration, skimming her fingertips over powerful muscle, petting through he thicket of hair on his chest, tracing new and old scars alike. The foundation was much the same, but the topography had changed, the unkindness of the years writ plain across his skin.

Her fingers wandered further down. It was hard not to break the kiss with a smile when he made a soft sound of surprise. Was he so unused to initiation? Perhaps that was the downside of partnering with younger women not yet comfortable with their own desires. Although Sadie was fairly certain that she’d never had any trouble taking what she wanted. Sentiment echoed by John when he pulled back slightly, grinning, as she wrapped her fingers around his cock again. “Impatient girl,” he grumbled. “Some things really don’t change.”

“I don’t recall that being a problem for you.” He was already half hard, twitching with interest at just a few gentle strokes, tip nudging against her thigh. “But we are getting older, aren’t we?” she asked, biting back a laugh at his scandalized expression. “I can be patient for you, daddy.”

His eyes sparked hot again. That was still a sure-fire way to get his engines rumbling back to life, his cock swelling under her fingers. “I don’t think you can, sweetheart. S’not in your nature.” He knocked her hand away, making room between their bodies for his thick fingers to slot between her legs. “So fuckin’ wet. All from takin’ care of me?”

Sadie nodded, hooking her leg over his hips to give him more room. “You always make it worth my while.”

John’s fingers parted her slick folds, rubbing soft circles around her clit, kissing her again, drinking her whimpered reactions from her lips, too greedy and covetous to waste them on the room around them. He brought her to the brink, focused on her clit until her legs started shaking, until she tucked her head down against his chest, too dizzy to let him steal any more of her breath.

“You gonna come for me, sweetheart?” John asked wickedly, curling forward so he could kiss the spot in front of her ear. “Need you to before I fuck you. Be a good girl for me.”

Sadie pressed her face into his chest, nails digging into his shoulders, a desperate attempt to ground herself before he had her arching into his touch, crying out, toes curling as her orgasm tore through her body, leaving her shaking and blinking away stars.

His touch slowed, turning gentle to coax her through it. “There we go. Good girl, Sadie. Always so perfect for me.” Satisfied that the last echoes had begun to fade away, he rolled on top of her, one hand planted on he bed while he lined himself up with her sensitive cunt and pushed in slowly, his eyes glued to her face, searching for any hint of discomfort. He stilled for a moment when he hilted fully inside her. “Fuck. You still feel like heaven, Sadie. Still feel like you’re made for me.”

Although she was loathe to admit it, she felt the same way. He felt perfect inside her, just thick enough for the stretch to burn pleasantly, just long enough to fill her completely without ramming into her cervix on every thrust. No one fit just right except John, as if he had carved out a place for himself all those years ago, and she’d always been waiting for him to come home. She pitched her hips up to give him a better angle, winding her arms around his neck so she could drag him down for another kiss. He started to move slowly, shallow, grinding thrusts that hit every sensitive spot inside her, as though he couldn’t bear to pull away even for as long as it took to push back in.

"John, please," she murmured against his lips, hardly moving away enough to speak.

John reared back and hooked her legs over his arms, gripping her hips tightly so he could drill into her with purpose. She pressed her hands against the headboard to keep them from inching up the bed, a breathless laugh turning to a moan. He watched her though half lidded eyes, the fondness in his expression countering the almost animal way he fucked her, hips snapping into her hard, hitting that spongy spot with every thrust, all the accuracy of a sniper even now. “I love you,” he growled, one hand sliding across her hip, thumb zeroing in on her clit. “Has anyone ever made you feel like I do, Sadie?”

She yelped, overstimulated, but arching into his touch anyway, greedy for anything he could give her still. “No one,” she panted. “Never.”

“That’s right,” he dropped down, folding her legs up toward her chest, hardly interrupting his pace, although the change in angle had Sadie crying out, legs shaking. She wrapped her arms around him to keep him close, manicured nails digging into his back. “You’re still mine. You’ll always be mine.”

In that moment it was hard to argue, especially with her own body agreeing with him, her cunt gripping him tight in response to his possessive words. She pressed her face into his shoulder rather than answer, biting down hard as everything reached a crescendo, muffling her scream. John groaned in her ear, the sensation of her coming around him, of her teeth buried in his shoulder hard enough to bruise sending him over with her. She could feel the hot throb as he came inside her as deeply as he could, filling her up as if he meant to mark her as his forever, like he forgot their age and still hoped to make good on his dreams of breeding her again, picking their life up from where they dropped it so long ago.

Sadie let her head hit the mattress, but didn’t let go, arms and legs still locked tight around him. He panted, kissing her neck, more of his weight dropping down on top of her as his limbs grew heavy.

After a moment, he pulled himself together enough to untuck his head and kiss her again, until she finally let him go.

It was strange how they fell into a familiar routine after, cleaning themselves up, brushing their teeth side by side, watching each other in the mirror, just like they used to. He teased her for having so many little bottles of goop to layer on her face after she washed up, but he didn’t go anywhere either. They changed the sheets, laughing about the rather pronounced wet spot they’d left, and finally fell into it, wrapped up together to sleep.

Sadie slid out of bed in the morning, gently untangling herself from John. He made a grumpy, sleepy sound, cracking open his eyes in the weak gray light.

“Come back here,” he grumbled, reaching across the bed, fingers brushing her back, not quite fast enough to snag her and pull her back in. “Not done with you.”

“I’ll just be a moment. I’m going to start coffee so it’s ready when you are done with me.”

John rolled onto his back, tucking his hands behind his head and watching her pull a robe on, blue eyes hot. “I never will be.”

Sadie sent a fond look over her shoulder and padded into the kitchen, making coffee on auto-pilot, snagging her phone out of her abandoned purse to check her emails quickly on the way back to the bedroom. Nothing pressing, although a text came in just as she was about to set it down. John snagged her around the waist and pulled her onto the bed, curling around her to peer over her shoulder.

Scout: Hey, what the hell is this?

Sadie laughed as she opened the link that came through a moment later, tilting her phone so John could see the picture better. One of the pictures that had been snagged outside Westminster last night, with John carrying her, a red circle in the corner of the image a zoom in on the rings on her finger, with the headline Sadie’s Choice.

Scout: I’ll save you the read, but apparently you’re quite the heart-breaker in the house of commons.

Scout: Are you and dad getting back together?

John kissed Sadie’s shoulder, tugging the phone out of her hand and gently tossing it onto the side table. “You can answer that later. I’m not quite finished making my case.”

She let John pull her down on top of him, still smiling as she kissed him.

It couldn’t hurt to hear him out.

Image Credits: Title Card 1 - 2 - Dividers

Graphics made in Canva by me!

[parkersbliss]

the 141 and the really weird or random quirks I’ve decided they had

pairing: task force 141 (ghost, gaz, price, soap) x female reader 

warnings: suggestive content, like sexual content but not smut

a/n: I have zero reason for doing this expect I wanted too?? and got carried away with suggestive aspects of it which is funny cause I don't write smut lmfaooo. so mostly fluff and based off real quirks people I know have.

Masterlist | Taglist | Prompt List

requests open for tf141!

—

Price:

no matter how many times he cleans the bathroom, his beard hair is everywhere. obviously he keeps that shit well groomed but it’s always somehow stuck on your face after you wash it, or on your shower loofah or towel. and you've tried and he’s tried to clean it and it never works. 

loves gnomes. you have ones in the garden, the front yard, in your house for EVERY occasion. I’m talking christmas, easter, halloween, thanksgiving. he has a set for every season and it honestly scares you a little. one year he bought a giant one for your christmas tree as the topper and it made him so happy so you just accepted it.

doesn’t like to celebrate his birthday. He’s so much of a giver he downplays it every year. If you guys have kids, he’ll buy something for them ON HIS DAY just to take the attention off. so he kind of hates gifts, but he’s not going to not accept that. Would prefer you don’t, even though he bought you a $20K pearl necklace for your birthday. (You’re still afraid to wear it)

leaves you on heard. all. the. time. you ask him something, like as he’s sitting next to you and just … silence. sometimes he even nods, looks at you and then turns away. you’re not sure if it’s something to do with his hearing or he’s just so relaxed at home he just doesn’t comprehend sometimes. “hey, baby, what do you want for dinner?” “mm.” 

average dad experience of sharing a hotel room and brother is snoring. you know what I’m talking about? the cold A.C turning on and off and mf just be out and it’s so loud you have to wear ear plugs. you wonder if he has sleep apnea at some point bc he can’t be real. 

but don’t worry, he’s just as loud in bed bed ;) and he makes it known when you’re going at it 

Ghost:

too stealthy for his own good and always scares the shit out of you. and he’ll try to be loud too, knocking on doors AND still isn’t loud enough. He always feel so bad but it’s also so funny to him bc he really does try to not be so quiet. 

owns the same black t-shirt, like at least 5, but claims one of them is just softer and better than the others. you’ve tried them all on and there is no difference to which he mumbled something about you not having the special sense??

cat whisperer. you’ll adopt a cat while he’s gone bc you’re lonely and you spend all the time with the cat but no. cat loves ghost more. He’ll sleep on top of ghost, but never you. he’ll follow ghost around the house, but not you. it’s very infuriating. and ghost has no idea why bc he’s around 1/2 the time you are. 

has a whole cabinet for his bourbon collection. and a special glass cup AND special spherical ice for it. he doesn’t even drink that often, but it was absolutely necessary (to him). 

he’s a clean freak. very routine in how and when he does laundry. Bed sheets on this day, dark on this day, etc. he won’t let you do any of it. If he loses a sock, he throws out the other pair. as soon as there’s a hole in something, he throws it out. 

nov. 1st is christmas to him. the tree is already up, no questions asks. there are no thanksgiving decoration in this house. he also has multiple trees, one by the entrance, one in the living room, one in your bedroom. 

has definitely fucked you under the christmas lights by the fire. begs you to wear bow lingerie so he can quite literally “unwrap his best gift” 

Gaz: 

loves the lego car sets. his home office is decorated with all his medals AND the lego cars. has definitely left pieces out that you stepped on and then proceeded to scream his ear off.

begs you to play fortnite with him. you think he’s batshit crazy “that’s literally your actual job” “no but the raging kids makes it fun and we can match skins” (he means the banana skins btw) and he’s a troll. he doesn’t take the game seriously, he just wants to torture little kids and make fun of you when you can’t figure out where the shooting is coming from. or when you throw down a med kit instead of splash. 

cannot get through a movie without fucking you and it’s always during the good parts so he’s got you in doggy and you’re still trying to watch the movie??

Instigator fr. he’s not toxic but like he’s gonna argue. Has literally once said to you “I’m not arguing I’m just explaining why I’m right” to which you stared at him and asked if he was stupid 

always ask for hot sauce or sriracha at restaurants or if he can get something spicer. he eats buldok noodles with the whole sauce packet and then proceeds to sit in the bathroom for an hour while you scold him. 

reckless driver to the max. you fear for your life when you’re in a car with him. He speeds (within reason he claims), he makes quick merges and switches lanes fast. he does use a turn signal so you let it slide bc he’s risky but not THAT risky. 

obviously, he has horrible road rage. you’ll be calling him while he’s driving and it’s all normal and then “OI YOU FUCKING SHITE DO YOU HAVE A LICENSE?” you just sigh and then he answers you like normal, “yeah I think I’m out of toothpaste too.” 

saves every selfie of you from snap and his rotating ones as his wallpaper. even the ugly ones you beg him to take out. like any guy, he’ll claim it’s his favorite and then it’s a 0.5 of you eating ice cream and it’s dripping everywhere and your eyes are half closed. 

Soap: 

leaves sticky notes everywhere to remind himself of things. anything. “need olive oil” “missing one blue sock” “(Y/N) wants thai takeout” “call ghost” “laundry” 

and sometimes they’re not even correlated to where it should be. like the note that just says “laundry” will be in the kitchen. and he stacks on top of those sticky notes with more. “did laundry” “bought more socks” it drives you insane

he's obsessed with blankets. He has a designated like basket/bin or blankets in the living room and your bedroom. He sleeps with like three. and he’s got heated ones, sherpa ones, weighted ones, etc. absolutely collects the different printed ones for each holiday. 

loves to go decor shopping with you, but only because he wants to pick out the ugliest things and see your reaction as you swat at him and tell him to put it back. only for him to sneak it back into the cart and you death glare him. 

If you need to rant, he resumes the whole “omg girl, period.” personality. he loves gossip and he loves doing facemasks with you as you talk shit and drama about your coworkers. 

he's so “wait I have to tell my gf this” bro will literally be on a mission and gets a cut? “I have to tell (Y/N).” the room exploded? would take a selfie and send it to you, if possible. sees a weird shaped potato at the grocery store? Sends a picture. Falls down the stairs? you're getting a picture of his broken foot. hard? here's a dick pic just for you babe

uses the same hydroflask water bottle that’s dented, has sticker residue and chipping on all side. “It’s reusable, that’s the point” he claims. you're not sure if he’s ever washed it and you certainly aren’t going to open it and find out for him. 

[empresskylo]

i CANT get the mf idea of ghost or price being more grumpy and irritable than usual out of my head. and how you would sassily point it out, suggesting he hasn’t gotten laid and that’s where all this pent up frustration is coming from. so then you offer to help him out, against your better judgment, falling to your knees to suck your captain/lieutenant’s cock 😩 and he resists at first, but the second your hand touches him over his trousers, it’s game over… and so he comes in your mouth, then inside you after getting hard just moments after his first orgasm, bending you over a table and just being absolutely ruthless 😩😩

[mehh141]

Barry Sloane being adorable (mostly just smiling and laughing) on Dan Allen’s interviews 

2021/2022 

[sky-is-the-limit]

(18+)

Okay but imagine having to switch bases in order to do a special type of training, you have to be away for a few months and Price is going crazy. You were his favourite recruit, he'd always find an excuse to watch you train or have you in his office, even making up issues so he can scold you, watch you frown your eyebrows and reply to him in a way that would not be acceptable for any other recruit. Not you though.

He'd do it on purpose cause it'd would turn him on so much to watch you act all bratty so later on at night, when he's laying naked on his bed, he can imagine all the things he'd do to you. He'd have a fight with his inner voice telling him that this is not right, not appropriate yet he'd do it every night, touch himself to the thought of you as he has no courage to make a move, at least sober.

So one night while you're in bed, sleeping, in your new temporary base, you get a call in the middle of the night from your drunken Captain who's just panting, groaning, begging for you to talk to him so he can get off from just your voice. It's been a month since you moved and the alcohol is clouding up his brain, no matter how hard he tries, he can't remember how you sound and out of frustration, he just calls you.

He knows he's going to regret this once the alcohol is out of his system and as he's about to hang up, he hears you reciprocating his every inappropriate thought as if you were waiting for this to happen. At first he'd think that you have no clue what he's doing until a soft whine escapes your lips and he loses it completely.

"Just keep talking to me, fuck, I miss that disrespectful mouth of yours"

[mudkipper]

This one's for the dilf enjoyers

[saturnbourne]

Trying to have a peaceful day but i’m plagued by daydreams of a stressed out Price who corners you when he finds you alone, wrapping his arms around you from behind and pressing flat against your back.

Stressed out Price who lets his head lull onto your shoulder with a sigh, his throbbing erection pressed against your ass.

Stressed out Price who filthily humps you from behind like a dog while complaining about everything he’s upset about. His words stuttering with a heavy sigh everytime he ruts just right. And he knows he can trust you to help him feel better because you’re so damn sweet to your captain. :((

[kyuteflesh]

price / soap / f!reader

・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・

* soap wants u real bad + being prices property = threesome

this is just a little unfinished thought. plotting up a storm rn. unprofessional for them but let me live my fantasy pls.

⚠️: degradation, slight smut, mainly just price yapping, +18

you were the captains bitch. everyone knew that.

from the way you came out of his office stumbling, new hickeys showing up every other day.

soap had been plotting on you since day 1. unlucky for him, price got to you first. he just had the charm soap lacked ig.

was that really the case tho???? or did price just ask you out sooner?

here you were, pinned up against the wall of johnnys room. his brawny arms keeping you restricted. tonguing your mouth, wanting more.

“we can’t be doing this, johnny. if he finds out, we’re both as good as dead”

“if you would just keep it down, then he wouldn’t possi—“

that’s when a fuming price burst through the door, materials clanging so loudly against each other you were sure the knob left a hole in the wall.

soap quickly backed away from you. temperature dropping, hands clammy. looks of panic coming from both of you.

“forget to lock the door eh, mactavish? ‘m sure you won’t make that mistake again. not after i have a fuckin’ bullet going through your thick, idiotic skull.”

price approached you, you were cowering under his much taller and intimidating stature. “please don’t kill him, john. he must’ve had too much to drink- i don’t know just please!”

scowling at you, inches away from your face. you could feel the steam radiating off of him.

“don’t hurt ‘em, ey? why should i listen to a whore who can’t keep her legs closed for any man? that’s all i’m gathering out of this.” price slid his hand down your pants, running a finger between your folds.

pulling it back out, he let out a measly laugh.

soap could do nothing but nervously fiddle with his thumbs.

quite the dumbass he was, trying to enter someone else’s property. he was stuck regretting every single decision leading up to this moment.

“look at this, johnny. look at how wet youve got my little cum dump. isn’t that something?” smiling, he wiped his finger off on johnnys neck.

gulping, he finally was able to muster out a few words. “i’m so so sorry captain, sir. it won’t ever happen again i—“

“pfft, johnny, lad, you’re such a pushover. grow a pair. you wanna fuck my girl? at least let me show you how it’s done first.”

WHAT DID HE SAAAYYYY??!!!!

“what?!” you both gasped in unison.

“you heard me. now y/n,” having a seat on the bed, price started to take his dick out. it was still soft.

“make me hard. let’s put that filthy mouth of yours to good use.” he patted his lap.

you were too stunned to speak, nervously sweating, blushing.

“are you deaf all of a sudden?” price spat out. he was losing his patience.

you quickly complied, not wanting the situation to escalate any further.

you lowered down to your knees, giving his tip a soft kitten lick. you began to take his whole length in your mouth. hollowing your cheeks as you let your tongue roam.

it was only a matter of time before you could feel him stiffening, hitting the back of your throat.

price took his attention away from you, looking up to johnny. “you want this?” he beckoned, running his hands through your hair.

johnny just nodded. ashamed of the growing erection in his pants. “come take my place then”

you were in doggy, face full of johnnys cock. pussy soon to be full of john’s cock. funny!

price gave your ass a firm smack. you were nervous. this was the first thing you’ve indulged in anything of the sort (a 3sum, that is).

johnny squeezed his eyes shut. not believing what was going on. the woman of his dreams giving him the blowjob of his life. his higher up fucking you from behind.

teetering back and forth between the two, you barely needed to put any effort in.

price was fucking you hard enough to where you didn’t need to bob your head for johnny.

it would be foolish to think that none of you were enjoying this.

you got to be used as a fuck doll by these insanely hot military men. dream come true.

[ebodebo]

her and ghost are on a stakeout, it's been hours without any trace of the enemy or whatever and she’s like super bored obvi. ghost, like the good little soldier boy he is, has his eye up to the scope perched on his gun and won't look away from the target area. she decides to test how good his training is. he’s leaning against the edge of a building and she slips under it to suck his dick. he barely has any physical reaction, he makes virtually no noise. the only way she knows he's actually enjoying it is by the feeling how hard his dick is throbbing on her tongue and how much pre-come is leaking into her mouth. 

-from you know who ;)

Good Soldier Boy

NSFW CONTENT

—ghost x f!reader

—561

wanna be on my taglist ? fill out this form !

Ghost and her were currently perched on a building, staking out a warehouse full of illegal ballistic missiles smuggled in by Al-Qatala with the help of Las Almas Cartel. 

The mission: kill Al-Qatala's leader and seize the missiles, seemed simple on paper. Well, their version of "simple." But, God, did it require a long wait time.

"We've been here for hours." She said, stretching her legs out from their crisscrossed position, leaning her back against the wall covering them. Ghost ignored her. 

He was staring through his gun's scope, waiting patiently for Khaled Al-Asad to come into view. The rest of the crew was on the ground waiting patiently for this so they could swarm the operation. 

"Are you listening to me?" She swiftly turned her head to face him. 

"No." He said blatantly. "We are supposed to be focused on our target. Not talking."

She rolled her eyes. "Do you always follow the orders you're given exactly?"

"I quite like my job, so yes." 

"You should wipe the spit off of Price's balls since you suck them so often." 

He ignores her snarky comment. Something he has become a master at in the last couple of hours. 

His lack of response sparks an idea in her head. "Let's see how good your training is, shall we?" She hurries off the wall and slips her body under his. His body does not react to her sudden change in position. She brings her hands up to undo his belt and unzips his dark-wash cargo pants.

She slowly slips his pants down his thighs, leaving them to drop around his ankles. She then moves to remove his boxers, showcasing his erect cock. 

She slowly takes her finger to graze the base, reaching the head. He had no vocal reaction to touching him. The only indication he was enjoying himself was the feeling of his throbbing cock on her tongue and the feeling of pre-cum coating her mouth. 

Her tongue was swirling around his head, making sure to be slow and deliberate with her movements while she brought her hand up to grip the base. Her hands move up and down slowly. As her hand moved, she opened her mouth wider to accommodate his size and pushed him in further. 

Her head began to bob up and down, her mouth taking more of him every time she went down. Tears began to stain her cheeks as he further slipped down her throat. But that didn't stop her. 

Her hands and mouth were working in unison—both at a fast, pleasurable pace. The silence was filled with wet noises and the occasion gag. Ghost remained focused on the task at hand, not making a single noise, even though his throbbing cock was twitching in the confounds of her throat, on the cusp of release. 

She could feel his climax looming and began stroking faster and sucking harder. He released in her mouth, his cum once again coating her throat and flooding into the corners of her mouth. She swallowed what was in her mouth and stuck her tongue out to lick each corner of her mouth.

She pulled his boxers and pants back on, securing them with his belt. Her body maneuvered back to her old position, crisscrossed, leaning against the wall.

"Well, I hate to say it, Lt., but you have been trained quite well." 

reblogs & comments are encouraged!

[sergeant-angels-trashcan]

The most toxic thing about the CoD fandom is how some of yall will be talking about what an old man Price is and then be like "he's 37" and if that's not like getting slapped in the face by a fresh trout I don't know what is

[dingledangly]

@loveindefinitely I decided to finish rendering the drawing because this fic has run rampant in my mind for days now💀 I need to draw the guitar scene next, omg it literally gave me butterflies tbh

[empresskylo]

price hiking your skirt up, his mouth moving against yours, and ripping your tights because he’s too impatient to strip you properly. both of you gasping when he forcefully enters you. s’fuckin’ tight, love.

[lunainlove]

I feel like I have read all the good fanfics on ao3 for ghostsoap 😭😭 in times like this I hate being so picky with what I read and all the other fanfics that catch my attention are not finished and I refuse to read until they are done because I’m not patient at all so I’m left with nothing 😭😭😭 and finding good fics is so difficult on ao3 like I usually get what I read from recommendations, snooping into my fav authors bookmarks and pure luck

Anyway if someone has good fanfics please lmk I’m open to anything but recently I’ve been craving some mission focused fic or something like that with found family (I’m a sucker for gaz price ghost soap laswell ale and rudy together) and a happy ending because the I absolutely adore angst as long as there’s a happy ending 😭😭😭😭

[sky-is-the-limit]

(+18) MDNI

Okay, Captain Price hoes, I found another audio for ya, this is literally John fucking Price meeting you at the bar and well.. The way he talks, the nicknames he uses.. tell me that ain't f Price.

NSFW audio, listen at your own risk:)

[gomzdrawfr]

anything to get some head pats and praises

[danibee33]

Part II of undercover!Ghost🩶

{Part I}

cw: nsfw at the end, no explicit smut, just Ghost on his knees for reader (he’s a giver what can i say)

++++

• You still don’t, or can’t, open your eyes- even when Ghost tilts your chin up and you can see the dim light shining behind your eyelids. Call it spite or possibly just a deeply rooted indignation that you’ve always possessed according to your father, but we won’t get into that now.

• But you just couldn’t. For the first time, you had no intention of giving him exactly what he wanted-

• “Why now?” You ask, pulling his hands away from your face. And you’re sure you look so silly, a grown woman refusing to just open her eyes and look at the face that’s plagued your thoughts ceaselessly; but he.. is just so fucking frustrating.

• You try to turn away but that only spurns him on, wrapping his hand around your elbow- you find yourself pressed against the door, a small grunt parting your lips, one he’s more than happy to swallow in a kiss.

• And it’s far too easy to melt into him again, let his hands touch you in ways you hadn’t let anyone touch you before-

• “No, no. Don’t- do that.”, you grind out the words, pushing him back once again, or well, trying to. You’re strong, but it doesn’t do much to the solid fucking wall of muscle that doesn’t want or care to move,

• “We’re not doing this. You do not get to treat me like I barely exist and then change your mind all of a sudden when you see me in a tight dress and heels-“, you shake your head as you continue, “you don’t want me.. you want this.”

• Internally, you’re bashing your head against the wall, because why the fuck can’t you stop talking?! He’s just a guy! A man- a very tall, inhumanly strong, muscular man, who looks at you like a little gnat he can’t quite get rid of.. but has been kissing you and holding you like you meant something to him. Like this wasn’t the first time he had thought about a moment like this-

• “And that would be fine.. if you weren’t.. fucking, ugh! You!”

• Your face is clasped between his hands again, thick fingers threading through your hair, and his voice calm and low- which simultaneously soothes your nerves and lights them on fire all at once, “You’re insufferable- the way you talk to us, the way you look at us, the way you just fuckin’ walked in and managed to worm your way under everyone’s skin-“

• He watches your eyebrows knit together in confusion and anger, you’re holding back so much, he can practically feel the potential energy radiating all around you- yours and his mixing together into something deliciously volatile,

•“Your existence is probably the only goddamn thing I can’t ignore, Hel.”

• Your face softens in a way he couldn’t have predicted, in a way that causes his chest to tighten and his breath to come a little shorter.

• “You do so much for us.. just because you want to, because you like seein’ people you care for happy. You don’t make any sense to me-“

• You hang on to his every word, to the rasp in his accent, and the way he holds you,

• “People aren’t just kind without wanting somethin’ in return. But for the life of me, I can’t figure out what you want.”

• Without thought, your eyes shoot open, a whole argument just waiting at the tip of your tongue-

• He thinks you want something from them? From him? That you were only kind to the Captain, and Gaz, and Soap because you wanted something in return? What you really wanted in this moment is to shake his big, stupid shoulders, and ask him how for someone so smart and perceptive, he could be such a raging idiot-

• But you do none of those things.

• No, instead of screaming or pushing him away, cursing him out, giving him a whole piece of your mind- you stand there, speechless and wide eyed because there he was. Lieutenant Simon Riley.

• You remember thinking at one time that he must be hideous or grotesque, something to match his boorish personality- but quickly swept the idea to the side. It was childish, and you had been angry with him, you’re sure. You know Soap and the others had seen his face before, but they never gave you even a crumb of detail- so, you’re mind filled in all the gaps, constructing a face around the deep amber eyes.

• And now, all of that work.. is useless. Because he’s everything you thought he might be, and nothing like it, at the same time. His brows are a bit darker than his hair, not too thick, but enough to balance the bit of scruff that covers his lower cheeks and jaw line- scars cut this way and that, some thick, others smaller, neater. One cuts right through his bottom lip, deforming it slightly- and another, deeper one across the bridge of his nose, which looks just a bit off, broken and reset incorrectly, you assume.

• He’s handsome, not in a movie star or even conventional way- but more than that, you think. Maybe it has to do with his flaws, has to do with the soft angles of his features, harsh only because of the way he’s used to constantly wearing a slight grimace.

• You reach up, leaning into him fully as you pull his lips against yours- something odd and warm burning through you, making your head spin when he reciprocates the kiss with no hesitation. If anything, it feels all the more frenzied now, like he had half expected you to run out of the room the moment you saw his face.

• “I don’t want anything from you, you fucking idiot.” You breathe out, the words and your voice mixing with the soft sounds of your tongues and mouths searching for more, your bodies yearning for more.

• Which is how you end up across the room, sat atop the beautiful, vintage oak desk, your dress hiked up around waist, watching the formidable Ghost take a knee in front of you, “Fuckin’ hell.. are you tryin’ to kill me?”

• “Don’t give me those eyes. You can’t wear underwear in a dress like this, I didn’t do it for you..”

• His eyes are inky and half lidded as he looks up, asking permission, begging for it without a single word.

• You try to shift forward, searching for friction but finding none against the smooth surface under you- only feeling the terrible dampness that’s made your thighs sticky. And all it takes is a breathy little whimper from you, his name whispered on your lips for him to move.

• He has your thigh settled over his shoulder and his face buried between your legs before the small yelp can escape- one hand smacking over your mouth and the other immediately grabbing his hair, “Jesus, Ghost- ah- fuck.”

• You hear and feel him breathe you in before a deep growl reverberates through his chest, wrapping a big hand over the thigh on his shoulder, and pushing the other open farther- another quiet groan leaving him when he finally sees what a mess you are.

• The first long stripe he makes with his tongue feels like a warning, the wet heat of him lapping at you has your cunt clenching vainly around nothing, an ache you’re not sure you had ever felt blooming deeper than you thought you possible.

• With that one taste, you’re suddenly jerked forward, your ass coming to rest right at the very edge- it forces you to prop one hand out behind you now, shakily leaning your weight into it as he begins to devour you.

• Which there’s no better word for it, he licks and nips, alternating between savoring you, eyes darting up to watch your head loll back and your chest heave before he suckles harshly at your clit- your poor little bundle of nerves already puffy and swollen, overly sensitive to his ministrations-

• “Oh, god- Simon, wait- wait-“ you swear you had only just begun to feel the pressure spooling low in your tummy before it implodes suddenly and violently.

• The radiating pleasure causes your legs to tremble and your breaths to come out as little more than pathetic pants- your fingers clutching at a handful of his hair so hard you’re surprised you hadn’t pulled it out by now.

• But he doesn’t seem to mind, his tongue still totally fixated on your weeping cunt, but instead of working feverishly, he’s back to lapping up your juices- humming into your center as he rubs his palm back and forth over the goosepimpled skin of your thigh. It’s a myriad of sensations, all of them lulling you even further the warmth of your high-

• “Been awhile, sweet girl? Or are you that responsive for everyone?” Ghost chuckles, flattening his tongue over your folds one more time before tearing himself away, unabashedly admiring his handiwork.

• You really do try to give your best glare when you manage to summon enough energy to look down at him, but it melts away at the sight of his lips pulled into a boyish grin, glistening and flushed a deep shade of pink. That’s how you watch him kiss your inner thigh, his eyes steady on yours even when he pauses to leave a little mark behind.

• “Very funny..” You bite back, a crimson blush coloring your neck and cheeks at the idea of telling him the truth-

• Thankfully, he doesn’t give time to dwell on it, standing to his full height, he gently lifts you off the desk- holding you close as he readjusts your gown to cover your lower half, though the fabric does little to fix the uncomfortable wetness that only seems to be growing.

• And the kiss he gives you afterward certainly does absolutely nothing to quell your arousal- because it’s slow and wonderful and you can’t help but to whimper at the taste of your own musk on his tongue,

• “C’mon, love.” He sweetly urges, swiping his thumb across your bottom lip before taking your hand, “before they send the whole bloody Calvary to get us.”

• You replace your ear piece with shaky fingers, thoroughly thrown off your game and glad to be going back to base- a bit of distance could do you both some good, couldn’t it? Though, he doesn’t seem to have the same sentiment, holding you closer than before until you step out into the courtyard- where you both know Johnny is still perched somewhere high above.

• “Bleedin’ Jesus, about damn time- boss is right pissed with ye for going dark like that.” Soap’s voice through comms gives you something to anchor yourself to, aside from Ghost’s lingering touch.

• He heckles you for a while longer, up until you’re in climbing into the back seat, settling yourself as much as you could- forever grateful for the darkness that envelopes you both.

• And as much as you want to stay away from him, give him space- you still find your head leaned against his broad shoulder, reveling in his immense size and warmth,

• “You did so good, Hel.”

• “Hm.. You weren’t so bad yourself, Ghost.”

+++++ bonus scene 🫢 ++++++

• Ghost had walked with you back to your rooms, not entirely unaware of the turmoil that had bloomed in your mind and refused to leave. He knew you were being uncharacteristically non-hyperverbal, and he had wanted to say something, he wanted you to invite him inside, he wanted, wanted to talk to you, wanted something more than the quiet you were giving him- though he would gladly take whatever you gave him at this point.

• But, that’s not what happened. You only looked up at him with those big, bright eyes- and apologized.

• He tried to ask you why you would ever be sorry, tried to ask what you were sorry for, because he would be lying if he didn’t feel some pang of insecurity- but this wasn’t about him, and he was wise enough to see that.

• So, he let you plant a chaste kiss on his cheek, let you close the door before tugging the balaclava he had been clinging to and stalking off down the hall.

• “Simon! Hey.. where’s our lil’ LT?” Johnny had stuck his head out of the lounge doorway, a bag of crisps in hand.

• All Ghost could do is shrug, backpedaling to follow after Soap, and snagging a beer from the fridge,

• “In her room. Any news about the phone?”

• They go back and forth for while, though somehow, the conversation keeps circling back to you.

• “She’s a good one..” Johnny says between sips of beer, “Y’know what she told me one time? It was that night we all went out!” He claps a big hand down on Simon’s knee, his laughter loud and full of fondness over the memory- “We were right pissed, eh?”

• Yes, Ghost remembers that night, remembers watching you and Johnny play pool against Price and Garrick- even when you lost, you had the biggest smile on your face as you bought everyone a round.

• He remembers how you tried to help Soap up to the lounge, but you both ended up on the floor in a fit of annoying giggles-

• “I asked her, why she never went on dates, never brought a guy around- not even friends. And she said she’s never had a relationship, never been with a man, never been with anyone.”

• Ghost thinks in that moment it would be better if Johnny had just shot him point blank in the chest with how tightly his lungs contract, his grip on the near empty amber bottle growing so tight he thought he could hear the glass want to give under the pressure.

• Soap is none the wiser to his friend’s downward spiral, still chattering in that lighthearted way of his,

• “Said she never had time for it! Can ye believe that shite? Maybe I should be more like her- might not still be a sergeant if I were..”

• He goes on, but the words fade away, lost in the sound of blood rushing through Simon’s ears.

• You were right, he is a fucking idiot.

++++

>>> [part iii]

OHHH NO. If it isn’t the consequences of my own actions��

I’m already thinking about part 3. But, hey! Thank you for supporting my insatiable brain worm, this fandom is my home away from home at this point. ♥️

and @ajadell, your comment was all I needed to keep this going 🫶🏻🫶🏻

(Inspired by this song)