#John is maybe showing off for Rip just a little | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

clockwayswrites · 1 year

Text

Both Ways at Once Part 5

WC: 1766, Masterpost CW: discussions of death, vague mentions of child trafficking and rape

Danny leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. He breathed in slowly through his nose, counting. He couldn’t let loose. They didn’t know. John said they didn’t know and Danny trusted John. Not with everything, he knew too much to trust John with everything, but he trusted John with this. The other wouldn’t have done this if he had known.

The gloved hand on his shoulder shifted, sliding to wrap around the back of Danny’s neck and give a little squeeze. It should have felt suffocating. It was grounding. Danny could already feel himself settling and responding to resonate back with Red Hood.

That was dangerous to have that resonance.

“Pomp,” John said. His shoes squeaked as he leaned forward. “Talk to me, Pomp, what did I miss?”

That right there was one of the reasons Danny trusted John, he would step up when he fucked up.

Danny sighed and opened his eyes. “He’s— he was a halfa, John.”

John paled. The color drained out of his face and left him a splotchy grey. His voice was strangled as he insisted, “Halfas are just a myth.”

“Rare, very rare, but not a myth. Think about it John. You said that the Red Hood from before was alive, but you know I’m right, the one here is a protector spirit. He died, John.”

“Red Hood is still alive, he has a heart beat,” Superman insisted.

“I’m still not talking to you,” Danny hissed, not taking his eyes off John. “Constantine. He was a halfa. I don’t know what they are anymore. This one is more ghost than human. I assume that the other one is more human than ghost. But put them back together and they would be perfectly balanced and you’ve been keeping them apart.”

John slumped back, rubbing at his face. “Bloody fucking hell…”

“The other half has been unwell, hasn’t he? Maybe just fatigued, but I bet he’s in pain too. His focus keeps wandering maybe. He’s listless.” Danny finally glanced away from John and over to the trio. Batman was, as always, almost impossible to read, but Danny felt sure Batman was tense. He might even be worried.

He wasn’t even looking at Danny but instead at Red Hood, who Danny was sure was avoiding Batman’s gaze. Even still, Red Hood’s fingers were trembling against the back Danny’s neck.

Danny reached up and took the gloved hand, hooking their fingers together.

“Constantine,” Batman growled, but the word sounded broken, under the bite.

John glanced from Batman to Danny and back again. “If Nightingale says that Red Hood is, was, a halfa, then he was. Nightingale’s the psychopomp, the dead is his realm more than any living I’ve ever met and, hell, more than most people who are dead.”

“And what is a halfa?” Wonder Woman asked, still the calm voice of reason.

“Rare,” Danny bit back, showing his teeth. He made himself take a breath and regulate his tone. “Someone who is half living, half ghost. They are a balance between life and death. If no one knew that Red Hood was part ghost, there’s a chance he wasn’t fully formed before, but I can assure you he’s a protector spirit now, no matter if he’s still alive. It’s also likely why the spell did this. There were already two halves to split. The human who was the living and the ghost who was the death.”

Wonder leaned forward in her seat. “You seem certain that the other half is sick.”

“They have to be— it’s a part of themselves that was ripped out and that leaves a wound. I suspect that because the other one must have more of the human side, he’s suffering more of the human affects of the separation while Red Hood is suffering more of the ghostly affects.”

“And your recommendation?” Wonder Woman asked.

“They need to be together. They need to be together and the place where they’re together needs to be Red Hood’s haunt.”

“His haunt?”

“Likely where he resided before. Or it would be where he patrolled if those are different areas. It would be somewhere emotionally important to him no mater what. As I’ve said, he’s a protector spirit so it should be obvious where his haunt is considering his role as a vigilante.”

“Crime Alley,” Red Hood rasped from behind Danny. his fingers squeezed tighter around Danny’s for a moment.

Danny’s arm was getting sore holding itself up like that, but he wasn’t going to take the comfort away from Red Hood or even deprive himself of that grounding point. It would be too easy for him to lose his temper here and really give the Justice League something to be afraid of.

“Crime Alley then,” he said. He had no reason to doubt what Red Hood was said. A ghost knew their own haunt. “We have to get him back to Crime Alley and they need to be together. I assume you have a place there?”

“No,” Batman said, though he didn’t shift. Wonder Woman placed her hand on his arm again.

“We’re concerned about there being a reaction of some sort should they meet,” she explained. “Constantine said that it might be possible.”

Constantine grumbled under his breath and ducked his head with a little shrug.

“If we didn’t know what was going on, sure, that’s a fair enough worry, but we do and I’m telling you that they need to be together until either they’re back together as one or until they fully settle into two separate people.”

“No.” It was Superman who protested this time.

“You don’t have a choice if you don’t want to torture and kill one or both of them,” Danny said, resisting the urge to bare his fangs at the boy scout again. “They need to go to Crime Alley.”

“He’s dangerous. If he is just the Red Hood half of the personality, which you’ve basically confirmed—“

“I have not. I’ve explained how they were physically split. It has affected how their split in motivation only because motivation is what a ghost is, but I would have to speak with both of them to learn how they are mentally and emotionally split.”

Superman just frowned in a disappointed uncle sort of way, as Danny talked and then continued on like Danny hadn’t even said anything. “Then he’s even more dangerous. We cannot simply let someone like Red Hood go. We have to think about everyone’s safety in this matter, especially civilians.”

“I thought you weren’t killers?” Danny threw back at them, saccharine sweet in his delivery.

It made Superman’s frown deepen, though Wonder Woman actually looked a bit amused.

“We aren’t,” the Big Blue said.

“If you try and keep him here you are. I’m telling you right here and right now that if you do not let him go back to Crime Alley then you are signing his death warrant. You might try to claim that he died in jail, but you’ll still be the cause of it. But that’s how you kill, isn’t it?”

“Nightingale,” John warned under his breath, twitching like he wanted to reach out and touch Danny, maybe to hold him back.

“No, really, it is, isn’t it? You want to to pretend that you don’t kill, that you’re better than whatever Red Hood has done, but are you really? At least he’s Honest about it. Red,” Danny said, tugging at the other’s hand so that he had to move up to stand more beside him. Danny looked up at the mask, looked through it. “You’ve killed.”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because they wouldn’t stop. They never stopped. Now that they’re dead, they’ve stopped.”

“Who?”

“Poisoning drug dealers. Rapists. Abusers. Child traffickers. People who threatened my….” Red Hood reared back slightly as if surprised by what his cut off words were going to be.

“Your haunt. Your people. Those under your watch and protection,” Danny said. “See, he’s honest about it. Were all of those deaths in the right? I don’t know. But I’m not sad a rapist is dead. I’m not sad children didn’t get trafficked. Those are the sort of people we’re supposed to be against, isn’t it? Well, us small heroes. You fight bigger names these days, don’t you, Superman?”

“Alright then,” John said, standing suddenly. Red Hood twisted to put himself further between the occult detective and Danny.

Danny patted Red Hood’s arm gently. “It’s okay, John’s trying to protect me. He thinks I’m putting my foot in my mouth and making enemies. And maybe I am. But I’m not going to sit by and watch this hypocrisy. You don’t kill. That’s a damn lie.”

“We don’t.”

“You’ve checked up on ever criminal then?”

“What?” Superman asked, thrown by the sudden question.

“Every criminal you’ve fought, every mugger and back robber and goon, you’ve followed up to see how they’re doing the next day, month, year?”

Superman had that lemon sucking twist to his face again. “No?”

“So you don’t really know, do you, how many criminals walked away from you only to die of brain hemorrhaging later because you punched them into a wall. Or how many died from a complication to their lungs or spine or heart because Black Canary ruptured something with her wail or Flash fucked from contact with the Speedforce. It’s not that you haven’t killed, it’s just that you don’t know how many you’ve killed. It’s impossible to act on the scale that you do and not have killed,” Danny said with certainty.

“Nightingale, I believe you’ve made your point,” Wonder Woman said, still calm, still patient. She was different from the others. She has killed, Danny knew that; she was an Amazon. He remembered his stories from Pandora.

“Have I?” Danny asked. He let go of Red Hood as he stood to lean over onto the table. Danny could feel that snarl building up in his throat again now. The other reached out to touch him again right away. The snarl calmed a little, only a little. “Because what about when Superman has used a building as a barrier to smack an enemy into? No one was ever hurt there? No grannie ever slipped and fell as the building shook and never got up again? At least that would be an accident then, unlike punching someone to death, but don’t pretend your hands aren’t red. Don’t pretend—”

The hiss of the door opening cut Danny off.

The room feel silent.

Danny could see all the heroes tense.

From behind him a voice spoke up, “Well, aren’t you all dramatic.”

--- AN: The mysterious stranger is right! They are all dramatic. Danny was about ready to go for Superman's throat-- literally and just not figuratively. Hope you enjoyed how this all played out! I know people were waiting for Danny to let loose some. Fatigue is hitting me hard right now, so glad to have gotten this out!

Stay delightful, darlings!

I no longer tag, you can instead subscribe to the masterpost!

#dp x dc #dead on main #dead on main street #both ways at once

1K notes · View notes

captainfern · 1 year

Note

MARIGOLD PREQUELLLLLLLLLLLLLL 🙌🙌🙌🙌🙌🙌🙌🙌🙌🙌🙌🙌🙌🙌

•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•

Marigold - Prequel

dbf!Captain John Price x fem!reader

[“Marigold” by Nirvana]

[18+]

•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•

• summary - where it all began with you and price, your dad's best friend. oh and the first time you fuck lol. • rating - 18+ • wordcount - 6.9k [hehe] • warnings - fem!reader, dad’sbestfriend!price, age gap [whatever you want it to be as long as it's legal lmao], f!masturbation, m!masturbation, unprotected piv, soft!price/gentle!price, oral [f!&m!receiving], PRAISE, breeding kink?, strong language

thank you all for the support on this little series that's also not really a series lol. lots of luv <3

unedited but enjoy anyway lol

•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•

In all seriousness, you had rats to thank for starting you and Price's relationship.

No, seriously.

Rats.

"Honey, you remember my mate John, don't you?" Your dad asked one evening as the two of you settled in for dinner.

You looked up from your plate of food, fork suspended half-way to your mouth.

"Price?" You queried, before sticking the forkful of food in your mouth and chewing thoughtfully as your dad replied with a nod.

"Yeah, Price," your dad said. "He's going to be staying with us for a few days while his house gets bombed."

You blinked, shocked. "...bombed?"

Your dad laughed. "Not actually bombed. Pest-bombed. Over his last deployment, rats got into his cupboards and ripped the place up, so it'll be a week of exterminators and contractors until his house's back to normal."

You put another forkful of your dinner into your mouth.

Price had been your dad's best mate since, like, forever. They had served together in the military, and remained in contact even when your dad retired when you were young. You remember seeing Price a lot when you were younger, but after your dad's retirement, the time they spent together got less and less.

Embarrassingly, you remember the last time you had a good look at him and you realised that, oh my god, he's hot. Not long ago, a year or so maybe, when he popped around for your dad's birthday in between deployments. He was polite to you, and nice, but you couldn't help but stare.

His muscular back, strong shoulders, forearms lined with veins. He was fresh out of a deployment with dishevelled hair and a scruffy beard and you just couldn't help but feel a little warm.

But it was a crush. Something stupid, anyway.

"Why's he staying here?" You asked. "Why not just stay at a hotel or something?"

"I invited him," your dad told you. "It'd be nice for us to catch up, anyway. And it'll be good for him to relax before he has to head back to work."

You accepted that answer. Your dad deserved to spend some time with his old friend, and it wouldn't make sense to challenge that. So, after dinner and once you'd helped your dad with the dishes, you both worked together to set up the guest room.

A couple of hours later, the doorbell rung.

You were lounging on the couch, some trashy reality show echoing around the living room. Your dad got off the couch and headed out into the hall, opening the front door.

You knew who it was going to be, so you weren't surprised hearing your dads excitable chatter as he greeted his old friend and welcomed him into the house. You listened as, after a few minutes, their footsteps drew into the living room, and you made the effort to pause the show you were watching and cast your eyes across the room.

"Say hi to Price, honey." Your dad smiled, gesturing to the man beside him.

You smiled, offering a small wave. "Hi, Price."

Holy fuck.

It had been about a year since you had seen Captain John Price in person and oh my god. He was still attractive. So much so that butterflies began fluttering around in your stomach, and you felt your body growing hot beneath his gaze.

He was still as fit as ever. Military-style fit, too. Strong shoulders and arms, lean torso, strong legs too. Big hands enclosed around the handles of two black duffel bags. He wore a beanie, and his facial hair was, like you remembered, a bit on the messier-side. You wondered whether he'd shave it, or clean it up tomorrow.

Then, he greeted you with your name. A deep voice, all rich and warm like the cigar smoke and cologne he smelt of. Your name on his tongue made your stomach pinch with some kind of giddy nerves. It sounded nice. He smelt nice, too. He looked nice.

Holy fuck.

Did... did you fancy your dad's best friend?

You physically shook your head to yourself as you looked away and your dad led Price upstairs. A stupid crush, that's all. You stared blankly at the TV, not even resuming your show. You just stared at the paused frame of blurred colours, your mind running away from you.

And you didn't know if you'd be able to catch it.

•º•

The next morning, you and your dad were both up early for work. You ate breakfast at the table, scrolling tiredly through your phone like you usually did until the sleepiness left your system.

Your dad was humming to himself in the kitchen, fixing himself a cup of tea and his second lot of toast (the first lot he had burnt).

The stairs creaked in the early morning silence, and both you and your dad looked up as Price appeared in the doorway of the kitchen in– oh my fucking god– no shirt.

He'd trimmed his facial hair, too. It was neat against his cheeks and above his full lips, and you couldn't help but imagine what it'd feel like–

No. Stop it.

He greeted your dad, then looked momentarily surprised to see you sitting at the table. He bid you good morning, then loitered uneasily in the doorway, eyes flicking to your dad.

"Sorry, d'you want me to put on a shirt?" Price chuckled, and your dad laughed back, shaking his head.

"Nah, mate, you're all right. Half the time I'm walking around here with no shirt on anyway, so she won't mind, will you, honey?" Your dad turned to you, and so did Price.

You tried your best to ignore Price, looking directly at your dad.

"I don't care," you said as casually as you could muster. "At least he's not wearing a fluffy pink dressing gown."

Your dad rolled his eyes, scoffing. "Don't make fun of my pyjamas, kid. I got it from Marks and Spencer for about thirty quid."

You shook your head in amusement, sparing a glance at Price as you turned back to your phone. Maybe you shouldn't have, because those stupid butterflies appeared in your stomach again.

You caught a glimpse of his abs, faint but chiselled lines along his abdomen. The brush of hair across his chest, and the happy-trail leading down into the waistband of his flannel pyjamas. His arms were so big too.

Okay, seriously. Stop it.

•º•

You got home from work late that evening, the house dark and curtains open. You did your usual routine, going around the house and pulling the curtains so you could turn on the lights. You paused outside the guest bedroom though, deciding against going in, and instead moving on.

You showered quickly, then moved downstairs. Sometimes, you'd cook dinner for your dad, and that's what you decided to do tonight.

Half way through cooking, ingredients strewn across the kitchen, the front door opened. You were expecting your dad, but when Price walked into the kitchen, you hoped you didn't look too shocked to see him.

"Oh, hi, Price," you greeted. "How's your day been?"

He smiled softly at you. Politely.

"Not bad," he said, sliding into one of the barstools across the kitchen island. "You?"

You shrugged. "Work's shit, but it is what it is."

His smile continued, and he watched you cook for a moment. You were acutely aware of the way his eyes watched you, watched the movement of your hands, the movement of your body around the kitchen, the concentrated expression on your face.

"You like to cook?" He asked you eventually, melodic voice punctuating the borderline unnerving silence.

"I like cooking for my dad," you said. "I mean, I'm no chef, but my dad seems to like it."

Price cocked his head, taking in the range of ingredients that were spread out across the kitchen counter, as well as ingredients splashing along the marble surface.

"You like making a mess, too, by the looks of it." Price said jokingly, gesturing to the various kinds of sauces and baking agents smeared over the countertop.

The sentence was innocent enough, but it made your heart hammer faster for some reason. Maybe it was the smooth baritone of his voice, or the fact Price said it. Either way, the pace of your heart quickened within your ribcage as you bent down to place your creation in the oven.

You stood up once the food was in the oven, brushing your sticky hands across your apron. Price was still looking at you, and he laughed at the state of your apron.

"So messy." He tutted.

Butterflies. Fucking hell.

"It's a new recipe," you said quickly before your body could betray you and render you speechless. "I'm usually not this messy, I promise."

He just hummed curiously at that.

When your dad got home not long later, dinner was ready. You, him and Price sat down for dinner, and your dad was like a growing teenage boy shovelling the food gratefully into his mouth. You wondered how he wasn't burning the roof of his mouth.

"This is great, honey," your dad said through a mouthful of food and you tried not to laugh. "Thanks."

"That's okay," you smiled ruefully. "I'm glad it's at least edible."

Price chimed in. "It's great, sweetheart. You did well."

Sweetheart.

You did well.

"Oh, thanks..." You muttered. Butterflies again.

•º•

The next couple of days were much the same.

The three of you would wake up at relatively the same time, having breakfast together and talking about the day ahead. Then you'd all head off, you and your dad to work, and Price to... well, who knows. Then, you'd get home at the end of the day and, surprisingly energised, you'd cook for your dad and Price.

Price would get home before your dad, by at least an hour. He'd watch you cook, chatting to you about anything and everything you wanted to talk about. He was attentive when you spoke, or when you yammered on about something that made you excited. He'd listen with a smile, asking you questions about your interest that had you spiralling happily again. You somehow almost burnt your pasta the last time you were telling him about your favourite movie.

Then, your dad would get home and you'd all eat dinner. The conversation was pleasant. But most of the time, you sat silently and listened to Price and your dad talk about the, quote, "good old days". Listening to military stories was also on the agenda. Not that you minded. It was nice seeing your dad happy.

After dinner, you'd do the dishes. Price offered to take over, and you refused. He struck a deal though, your dad helping too, and the three of you made it a military-style regime to wash the dishes and get them away in record speed. You laughed at the goofiness of it all, and how Price ordered your dad around. Your dad would salute and march around the kitchen with a stack of plates in his hands, making you and Price laugh.

But it was nighttime where things differed.

You'd say goodnight to Price and your dad. Sometimes, they were still awake in the living room, or maybe in the kitchen. Other times, they'd retired long before you. Either way, you'd find yourself beneath the covers of your bed, the silence of the night drowning you.

Of the almost four nights Price had stayed, you'd gone to sleep with him on your mind each time. Three of those four nights were all fluffy and cozy and warmth-inducing. Images of him in your head, being so nice to you, being so polite. Such a gentleman. It didn't take long to fall asleep with a content smile on your face.

Tonight was the outlier though.

You'd manage to fend off the nighttime bombardment of butterflies on previous nights. But tonight, they returned with a vengeance. Your stomach was swarming with them at each thought of your dad's best friend. Flipping and swooping with nerves, your body growing hot. But with this warmth came an ache that made you scold yourself.

Stop it.

But you couldn't.

Price's handsome face– glimmering eyes, full lips, neatly trimmed facial hair. His body– the abs, the hair, the muscles. Damn.

You whined softly to yourself, the ache in between your legs intensifying, something pulling tight in the base of your tummy.

You just couldn't help it.

Another quiet whine on your lips, you impatiently shoved your hand beneath your pyjamas. Your middle finger made contact with your clit, puffy and swollen with your arousal, and you sucked in a breath when you began to circle it gently.

The relief was almost immediate, the tight feeling in the base of your stomach drawing tighter. Your body hummed with warmth as you sped up the movement of your circles, pleasure creeping through your veins. You probably didn't even need to fuck yourself. Judging by the way your body was reacting, you were close enough with just the attention to your clit. So, so sensitive.

You sunk your teeth into your bottom lip to keep yourself quiet, small moans and airy whimpers caught in the base of your throat. Your skin was becoming dewy with sweat, your legs beginning to shake as your finger pressed and drew shapes across your little bundle of nerves.

In your mind, flashing images of Price. Everything about him, physically and not. His voice, his words–

"So messy."

"You did well."

"Sweetheart."

A desperate whimper fell past your lips, your back arching, clit pressing tighter against your finger, hand beginning to ache. Your thighs trembled, heart-rate spiking as the coil in your stomach balled the tightest it had been all night, before it snapped.

"Price." You whispered into the darkness of your room as you came. It hit you hard, too. Sparks floating behind your eyelids, your entire body trembling against the mattress as your cunt spasmed around nothing, your clit pulsing in time with the beating of your heart.

You came down from your high with a wave of embarrassment crashing over you, and you broke the surface of it with a gasp and a frustrated sigh. You kicked off your blankets, burning up, sticky with sweat.

"Fuck..." You whimpered, eyes suddenly pricking with tears.

Maybe this wasn't just some stupid crush anymore.

•º•

Price heard you that night.

It was an accident.

He couldn't sleep after hours of pacing his room. So he ducked downstairs, grabbed himself a glass of water, and drank it whilst staring into the darkness. After, he rinsed the glass clean and dried it, putting it back in the cupboard, and then making his way back upstairs.

In his efforts of trying to be quiet, he heard you. Creeping past your room, he paused when he heard the soft creaking of your bed and a soft sigh escape beneath the small gap beneath the door. He cursed himself, initially believing he'd woken you up. But the more he listened, the more his cheeks began to heat up, and his cock began to stir in his pyjama pants.

It was wrong.

But you sounded so fucking pretty. Touching yourself, sighing and whimpering, trying so hard to be quiet. He wondered how you were touching yourself, how fucking wet you were.

His chest tightened in shame. What the hell was he doing? His best friend's daughter of all people?!

But he couldn't move. Not when the mattress shifted, the bed frame creaked, and a few more airy whines flew out of your mouth before you were whimpering his name.

His fucking name.

"Price."

He could've come right then and there.

He held out, gritting his teeth and shuffling silently back down the hall and into his room. He closed the door as quietly as he could and found himself sitting on the edge of the bed, taking his cock out of his pyjamas.

Already painfully hard and sensitive, he fucked it in his fist dry at first. The pre-cum dribbling from his slit made the movements glide after a moment, and he was quick to start moaning under his breath. He'd always been good at remaining silent with these types of things. But with you in his head, your whimpers in his head, he was trying desperately and almost failing to keep quiet.

Price stroked his cock, thinking about you. His best friend's daughter. He felt guilty. Dirty.

But it was no match for the feelings of lust and pleasure. He grit his teeth, trapping a moan between his molars as he circled the tip of his cock, more pre pearling at the slit. He imagined it being your pretty cunt, so wet and tight.

He grunted, tightening his grip, and then had to restrict another warbled groan. His balls tightened, stomach quivering as he came in a sudden hot spurt, coating his fingers and thighs. He jerked himself through it until his tip was flushed an angry red and he was on the verge of overstimulation.

"Christ..." He muttered, looking down at the mess he'd made.

He wanted to make a mess of you.

•º•

You didn't make dinner the next night after work. You were too tired, and you knew your dad would be sympathetic. So instead, you opted to have a nice, long shower. And by long, you meant long. You scrubbed yourself clean of the day's extremities, leaving you to smell really, really good.

It was much later by the time you got out, dressing into your pyjamas. You went downstairs. You'd probably just eat some leftovers, or dig something out of the freezer. Entering the kitchen, you were taken aback to see Price sitting at the kitchen island, arms folded along the marble surface. He looked up as you entered.

"Oh, hey, Price." You greeted, heading for the fridge.

His mouth curled into a small grin. "You can call me John, you know."

"Eh," you opened the fridge, your back to him. "I like Price. John make's you sound old."

"Is that so?" He cocked his head at you, watching you dig through the fridge. "Do I look old?"

You threw him a look over your shoulder. "Not really."

"Not really?" He chuckled.

"Mhm. The beard makes you look older."

He stroked his face while you pulled out some leftover pasta, closing the fridge and placing the container on the counter near the microwave.

"I like it, though." You told him with a smile, and your brain didn't quite register what you said until you were beginning to reheat your pasta.

"You like it?"

Fuck.

Damn it.

"It... suits you, yeah." You said shyly, not making eye contact. Your body was growing warm. It might as well have been you in that microwave by the way your skin was heating.

Silence filled the kitchen until the microwave began to beep. You took out your steaming pasta and dropped it noisily on the countertop.

You could feel his eyes on you, and it made your heart race. But it was racing in a good way. The way he looked at you, the way he made you feel, was something you'd never experienced before.

Slowly, you turned to look at him. He was looking at you, eyes soft and deep and warm and everything you wanted. It was like he was waiting for you to speak– waiting for you to open your mouth and tell him everything you wanted too. It's like he knew.

The butterflies were back.

You chewed nervously on your bottom lip, and Price's eyes followed the movement.

"Not making dinner tonight?" He asked you, voice smooth, eyes still on your mouth.

You shook your head. "No... sorry."

"Don't apologise, sweetheart."

You wanted to scream into a pillow or something. Sweetheart? Did he want you to have a fucking heart attack?

"Are you hungry?" You asked.

His eyes flicked up to yours. "Yeah."

You felt guilty. "Did you want me to cook–?"

"No," he said simply. "No, don't worry about that. I don't need food."

You cocked your head and he watched you do so. Confused, you frowned, sucking your bottom lip back into your mouth. Once again, his eyes darted downwards to catch the movement, his eyes flashing.

"Then what do you want?" You asked him, and deep down you already knew. Somehow, you knew what he wanted.

And you wanted it too.

Price got to his feet, casually rounding the kitchen island until he was standing beside you in the kitchen. You turned, your lower back pressed up against the adjacent countertop as he approached you slowly. You craned your neck to look up at him, your heart hurting from how hard it was beating inside you.

"I want you to be honest with me, okay?" He said softly, his voice comforting. "D'you want me to touch you how you touched yourself last night?"

Your entire body was on fire. Every nerve, every blood vessel was blistering hot. Your shame was the gasoline. But your lust was the fucking spark.

You let out a breath, a whine mingling with it. You averted your eyes, looking away. Immediately, a large hand gently took hold of your chin and guided your head back upwards, lightly guiding eye contact.

"It's okay, sweetheart, I promise," he told you in a whisper, the caring look in his eyes soothing the flames within you. "I want you to tell me. I want you to be honest."

For a moment, your lower lip trembled. A mix of embarrassment and arousal was confusing your brain.

You swallowed thickly. "Yes..."

"Yeah? You want me to touch you like you touched yourself? Make you feel good?" He probed, careful not to raise his voice above a whisper. "You want me to take care of you, sweetheart? It's okay, you can tell me."

You nodded. "Yes please."

The hand Price had on your chin moved to cradle the back of your head as he leaned down, his face hovering just above yours. His eyes scanned your features, his other hand moving to hold your waist.

"Can I kiss you?" Price asked, the words brushing over your own lips.

"Yeah..." You whispered, breathless from your impatience.

He smiled, then kissed you. It was so gentle and warm and everything you'd thought about the night before. It wasn't rushed or rough in anyway. He was taking his time– smoothing his lips against yours, cradling your head, slipping his tongue along the seam of your lips. You opened for him, your tongue meeting his, the kiss deepening.

He pressed you further into the countertop and you arched, chest meshing with his. His tongue was solid against yours, and you whined into his mouth, your hands moving to clasp the back of his head, fingers delving into his soft hair.

The hand on your hip pulled your pelvis flush with his. You groaned when you felt him hardening against your lower stomach, and Price pulled out of the kiss with a light squeeze to the back of your head.

"Feel that, sweetheart?" He said breathlessly, leaning himself heavier against you. "Feel how much I want you."

He took your hand in his, letting go of your head. He guided your hand between your bodies, and you took initiative in pressing your palm flat to the front of his jeans. He groaned, head flopping forward to rest on your shoulder. You palmed the solid imprint of his cock, your core throbbing at the muffled grunts eliciting from his throat.

"Price...?" You whispered, and he groaned again.

"Fuck... yeah?"

"I want you."

He groaned for the third time, low and breathy, before he pulled away from you. He grasped your hand, before dragging you out of the kitchen and towards the stairs. You giggled, giddy with excitement, as he led you upstairs.

"Your room or mine?" Price asked, bending down to kiss you again.

You pulled away, and he proceeded to kiss a wet trail down the bare expanse of your neck. "Mine..." You said, backing towards your room and urging him inside.

He closed the door behind you as you flopped onto your bed. You grinned when he followed you, crawling over top of your body and slotting himself against you, kissing you again. He licked into your mouth as you tugged and pulled at his hair.

A minute later, Price was crawling back down your body until he rested between your legs. He took hold of your pyjama pants and pulled them down, discarding them, while you threw your t-shirt off. You unclipped your bra and tossed it across the room when Price hooked his fingers beneath the waistband of your underwear.

He looked up at you. "Is this okay?"

"This is perfect, Price."

He took a deep breath as he pulled your underwear down your legs, so slowly you thought about kicking him. But you didn't. His eyes were transfixed on your core, his mouth agape.

"Christ," he muttered, flinging your underwear away. He ran two fingers slowly up your slit, collecting your arousal, before drawing them into his mouth. He moaned around his fingers. "S'fucking perfect."

You whined as he tucked himself between your legs, his breath fanning over your glistening core.

"Watch me, sweetheart." He told you as he languidly licked a stripe up your slit, before latching his lips around your clit.

Your eyes rolled, but his words forced you to maintain eye contact. You watched his lower face disappear between your legs, his eyes hooded and locked onto yours as he ate you out.

He circled your clit with his tongue, his top teeth brushing lightly against the nerves. Your body jolted, a moan falling out of your mouth, before his tongue was laving over you once more. He then dragged his tongue in a zig-zag motion downwards until he circled your cunt. You whimpered loudly when he pushed his tongue inside you.

He grunted with each movement of his tongue, eyelids threatening to close each time more of your arousal trickled into the back of his throat. Your thighs were warm around his head, squishy against his ears. He couldn't help but grab a fistful of the flesh in his hands, kneading contently as he fucked his tongue into you.

You were on cloud-nine. His tongue was warm and solid inside you, your stomach fluttering with a build-up of pleasure. You reached a hand down, the other balled in your sheets, and grasped his hair, still maintaining eye contact. You moaned, the sound making Price groan into your cunt.

"P-Price, sir, m'gonna come." You told him desperately as your impending climax began warming your body, thighs growing tighter around his head.

The word sir made Price moan into your cunt and redouble his efforts, fucking his tongue into you at a renewed pace that made you sob out his name in pleasure. Your thighs shook against his head, your cunt fluttering around his tongue, arousal dribbling down the sides of his chin.

He was throbbing in his trousers, your noises and taste building his own arousal. His cock twitched painfully in the confines of his boxers and when you came, he almost came with you. Almost.

You came with a whiny "Price", pushing his head further into you. He licked you through it, dragging his tongue out of you once your hole stopped spasming, suctioning your swollen clit back into his mouth. You whimpered curses, pulling at his hair. He conceded, and detached his mouth.

"Feel good, sweetheart?" Price asked, kissing up your body as he crawled back over top of you.

You hummed your agreement, still fizzling down from your high.

After kissing along your breasts, Price slotted his mouth back to yours. You moaned when you tasted yourself on him, his face sticky against yours.

When he pulled back, his pupils were blown. "Tell me what you want, pretty girl."

"Want you." You whimpered, and he kissed you again.

He then stripped himself, discarding his clothes on your floor. When he removed his boxers, you tossed your head back and groaned. His hard cock bobbed up against his abdomen. A slight curve, a prominent vein along the underside, leading to a ruddy tip already leaking pre. You took hold of it, feeling the soft, velvety ridges against your palm.

Price hissed. "Sweetheart–"

"Can I use my mouth?" You asked, slowly starting to stroke his cock.

He groaned, head dropping back as if the words you said struck him across the face. He seemed to contemplate it for a moment, really thinking hard, as his eyes dropped down to yours.

"You don't have t–"

"I want too," you smiled, before you were pushing him off of you and slipping off the bed.

He watched you patiently, situating himself on the edge of the bed and planting his feet on the floor. He parted his legs, allowing you to settle between them. You took hold of his cock again, and his hips twitched, a sound like a whimper being whispered from the depths of his throat.

Price looked down at you, stroking your hair as you worked your hand up and down his length. His eyelids drooped when your fingers neared his tip, and when you worked them around the underside, he whispered your name in a pleasured sigh.

He continued stroking your head and face. "Are you sure you want to do this, sweetheart? You don't h–"

You shut him up by leaning forward and licking a stripe up his cock. He choked on his sentence, hand resting gently on the crown of your head as you licked him from base to tip. You kept one hand around the base of him, pumping as you worked your tongue up the vein on the underside of his cock.

He hummed a moan, something vibrating deep in his chest, primal almost, as he watched you. His eyelids had dropped, his pupils stretched wide, hips twitching each time your tongue skimmed the base of his tip. He was fucking leaking, now, and you wasted no time in cleaning him up.

Retaining eye contact, you wrapped your mouth around the tip and he moaned. A pretty, desperate sound that made your wet core flutter around nothing. You sunk deeper and deeper, taking more of him, until your mouth was stretched wide, your lips pressing against the side of your hand where you squeezed him. Price moaned again, head of his cock nudging the back of your throat. You gagged, pulling up slightly, and he let out a deep grunt.

"Easy, sweetheart, s'alright..." Price dragged out, hand warm on the top of your head.

Saliva dripped from the corners of your mouth in strings, smearing down his length as you brought your head up. You circled your tongue around his head again, swiping against the slit and making his hips buck. You withheld a smile and took him deeper again. You repeated this action a few times, until Price had left that tentative, almost nervous view behind him.

Now, he had a firm but guiding hold on the back of your head, groaning and panting as you sucked his cock. He urged you gently to take more of him, and you eventually removed your hand so more of him slid down your throat. You gagged, and he groaned and pulled back slightly, before repeating the action again anyway.

A hand to your head, he pulled your head all the way back until your lips wrapped around his tip. You looked him in the eyes, tears along your waterline, before he was pushing you back down.

"Yeah, that's my girl," He groaned as you took him all the way to the base. "Fuck, that's my girl. My good girl, baby, fuck."

You whimpered around his cock, the praise making your stomach flip and your cunt ache. Your arousal was physically dripping down the curve of your thighs, and you shivered.

Suddenly, his hips began twitching and his mouth dropped open, a breathless moan filtering out. He grabbed hold of the back of your neck and slowly pulled you away from his cock.

"I need you, sweetheart, come on." Price whispered when you whined, your mouth detaching from his cock with a wet pop.

You wiped the saliva away from your mouth with the back of your hand. "But–"

Price urged you to your feet, pushing you back onto the bed and flattening you against the mattress with his frame. You smiled at his desperation, feeling his wet cock against your inner thigh as he spread your legs with a squeeze to the backs of your knees.

He leaned down and kissed you. "I– fuck– I need to be inside you, sweetheart. Let me inside you. Please."

You'd never thought he'd be the type to beg. Holy shit.

You giggled nervously, kissing him again. Price groaned into your mouth, one large hand coming to hold the side of your face, caressing it gently. He then grabbed his cock near the base and guided it to your dripping cunt. He ran the tip up and down your folds a few times, making you mewl into his mouth, before tapping the head against your slick hole.

He broke the kiss, panting. "Oh fuck, I don't have a con–"

"Birth control," you said quickly, body writhing beneath his. "Please, just–"

His brows pinched together in light concern. "Okay, okay, but you need to stop me if I you–."

You were begging now. Desperate for him. "I'm okay, Price. Please, sir, just please–"

With a low grunt, Price pushed in slowly, the tip of his cock stretching you open. You moaned loudly, nails dragging down his muscled back as he slid more and more inside you, inch by inch. He groaned, caging your head between his arms, his eyes locked on your face, searching for any sign of hesitance. But he only found pleasure as your mouth dropped open and your eyelids flitted.

You were so tight around him, warm and wet. He closed his eyes for just a second. He was focussing on not coming straight away.

You mewled loudly when the tip of his cock nudged your cervix, his hips flush with yours. Your nails scraped down his back, and he grunted, dipping down to kiss you. The kiss was sloppy and messy, all tongue and no direction. He didn't move his hips, and the feeling of him inside you, warm and heavy, made you break the kiss with a moan.

"Price, oh my god." You breathed against his lips, hole clenching around his girth.

He groaned. "I know, sweetheart, I know."

You whimpered when his hips shifted, pelvis grinding against you. He paused, moving his head back to look at you.

"You okay?"

You nodded, humming your approval. "Mhm– yes, m'good, Price. Mmm feels so good– please don't stop, please–"

Gently, he pulled out until his tip was just barely inside you, his length and the hair at the base glistened with your arousal. Then, he was thrusting back into you, making you moan his name again.

"Fuck, that's it, good girl, sweetheart," he murmured, sucking a kiss to your jaw. "There you go, just take it... taking it so well, sweetheart."

You moaned, arching your back. The sounds of his thrusts were wet and loud in the silence of your room, accompanied by the slapping of skin and your mewls of pleasure.

"Feels like you were just made for me," Price whispered, cock bullying the plug of your womb, making your eyes roll. "Mhm... this pretty cunt was just made for my cock."

"Sir..." You dragged out through a moan, hands flailing to keep you grounded, dragging up and down the plains of his back. You wanted to say something else. It began slipping out of your mouth, "Cap–" before you stopped yourself.

Price groaned, slamming into you harder. "Yeah that's right, pretty girl. Call me captain, baby. S'your captain making you feel so good, yeah? S'your captain filling this tight cunt."

You moaned loudly. You hoped your neighbours weren't home. Your nails dug into his back as tight pleasure built up in the base of your abdomen. Your thighs were quivering, your entire body being consumed by him.

Price, Price, Price.

He slammed into you again and again, drawing more sounds from you. His body was warm over yours, solid and comforting and you almost wanted to sob. You felt so good. He was making you feel so good. Your dad's best friend. Fuck.

You couldn't help but whimper at that thought, your clit pulsing, sitting shiny and puffy. And it's like Price knew– he always seemed to know what you wanted. Still fucking you steadily, he reached downwards, dragging his hand down your body. The rough pad of his middle finger found your swollen clit, and you keened, sobbing out a moan as he applied pressure.

"S'that feel good, sweetheart?" He asked in a whisper, pressing tight circles as his hips worked his cock into you. "Is this what you needed? Wanted me to play with this pretty clit, is that it?"

Your eyes rolled, his words turning your brain to mush. "Y-yeah," you stuttered, tummy drawing up tighter, legs quivering faster against the mattress. "F-feels... g..."

You sentence was lost as his cock hit that spot inside you over and over again, making your blood pump hot and the base of your belly flood with a burning kind of pleasure that had tears falling from your eyes.

Price kissed your tears away as you moaned, arching your back, your tits pressing up against his chest.

"Captain, please–" you choked on a pleasured sob. "M'gonna–"

"S'alright, sweetheart, come for me," Price said softly, kissing a tear from your cheek. "Good girl. Come for me."

He shifted his head and kissed you deeply when you came. Your tongues pressing together as you trembled against him, cunt squeezing his cock. Your release made your body burn up, and you felt it drip hot and wet out of you, dribbling around the sides of his cock. You moaned his name into his mouth, and he swallowed it whole, continuing to rut into you.

"Good girl, good girl..." Price muttered, sucking your bottom lip into his mouth.

He moved his hand away from your clit, back up to the side of your head.

He released your lip when he groaned. "Fuck, m'not gonna last, sweetheart."

Dazed, you pressed your mouth to his again. It was sloppy and wet, uncoordinated through your post-orgasmic haze. He grunted against your tongue, thrusts losing rhythm as he neared his peak.

"Come for me, sir, please." You whispered into his mouth, and that sent him over the edge.

He groaned your name into your mouth, coming deep inside you. The warmth that filled you made you keen, and Price kept thrusting, panting with his lips brushing yours.

"Fuck, baby, fuck..." He whined, finally stilling inside you, plugging you full of him.

After a long moment of basking in each other's heat, he pulled out. You mewled as he sat on his ankles, watching his cum leak out of your dripping core. He gathered the mix on two fingers, shoving it back inside you with a satisfied grunt.

"So messy..."

•º•

Price cleaned you, applying a warm, damp cloth between your legs. He dressed you, too. While you were still laying down, he pulled your clothes back onto you– minus your bra, which you didn't want back on as that would've involved you actually sitting up– then he tucked you beneath the covers.

He placed a kiss to your forehead, before he ducked into the bathroom and cleaned himself up. When he returned to you, he put his clothes back on, and then leaned over to kiss you on the forehead again.

"You still hungry?" He asked, cupping your cheek and rubbing his thumb along your cheekbone.

You shook your head. "No... m'gonna sleep for a bit."

He smiled, kissing you briefly on the lips before leaving your room, closing the door behind him. He made his way downstairs and into the kitchen, your pasta sitting cold on the countertop. He tossed it back into the microwave and heated it up again. When he pulled it out, steam curling upwards, the front door opened.

Price felt a pang of guilt in the depths of his stomach, just briefly, before his mind was flooded with images of you, and he was desperately trying not to get hard again.

Your dad walked into the kitchen, dumping his work gear near the dining table.

"Hey, mate," your dad said with a smile. "Good day?"

Price couldn't help but smile, disguising it by stabbing a fork into the past and bringing it towards his mouth. "Yeah, mate, really good. You?"

Your dad continued on about his day, telling Price animatedly about his activities at work. Once he'd concluded his story, he looked around pointedly. "Where's our chef?"

Price laughed. "No chef today, mate. She's in bed."

"Oh, strange. Rough day at work, probably," your dad said. "She's a good girl, you know. I'm really proud of her."

Price smiled. He couldn't help but agree.

•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•

was this ok? idek lol

#captainfern #captainfernsalutes #call of duty #captain john price #call of duty mw2 #fem reader #captain price #captain price smut #captain john price x you #captain price x reader #cod smut #cod price #price smut #price call of duty #cod mwii #captain'snirvana

2K notes · View notes

shmalk · 2 months

Text

OKAY IM CURRENTLY WRITING THIS SO DON'T EVEN WORRY YOUR PRETTY LITTLE HEADS <3

afab!reader x poly?141

bartender!reader who maybe works at the pub, or runs it, or maybe second in command, whose tall and lanky, and kind of clumsy but still the best rollerskater around (maybe the bar makes its employees use skates, maybe not)

and then the first person to meet reader is ghost, whose instantly obsessed, and you're not sure how, but eventually you're finding yourself stuck under him while he plows into you, hands tangled in your hair as he pulls you back just to fuck more of his cum into your poor, spent cunt-

next is probably roach, such a poor boy, and he's so touch starved that you can't help but tug him into your office, settling on your knees infront of him to take him into your mouth until he has tears in the corner of his eyes and his hands are practically ripping threads of your hair out as he begs in overstimulation please, god, fuck, please - i can't - i need to - wanna cum so bad f'you-

soap doesn't even bother trying to be slick about it, walking in when the bar isnt even opened just to tell you that he knows what youve been doing with the lieutenant and his sergeant, how he's going to tell everyone unless you bend him over the bar - just like that - plowing your hips against his as your strap reaches every goey spot that makes his legs shake and his eyes roll into the back of his head-

and gaz! such a sweet boy who offers to help when he sees you lugging kegs around, so you hand him one, and show him the way to the cellar until he's on his knees, you bent over one of the empty kegs and his face pressed between your folds, his tongue coated in you and your sticky sweetness, desperate to swallow everything you can give him.

john price is different, he's the one you have to look out for, coming in with his boys after a mission - you've not seen any of them for a few weeks and you're worried they've up and left you - when all five of them come in, the boys just wanting to show off their pretty little bartender whose so sweet and soft-

it's not long until he has you bouncing in his lap, despite being taller than him, one hand wrapped around your throat and the other holding a cigar. he doesn't care if the bar is crowded and anyone could turn around and see him tear a hole through the crotch of your jeans, if they could see him line himself up at your entrance, maybe shoving two fingers down your throat as he bounces you up and down.

I AM !!! RAVENNOUS !!! FOR THIS !>!>!>!>

#john price #john soap mactavish #shmalk ! ᧔♡᧓ #simon ghost riley #task force 141 #kyle gaz garrick #141 x reader #johnny mactavish x reader #john price x reader #kyle garrick x reader #simon riley x reader #gary sanderson x reader #gary roach sanderson #captain john price

249 notes · View notes

pricegouge · 22 days

Note

hi hello just wanted to tell you that the wellies story with gaz and price is such a delight, everything about it is *chef's kiss*

I think Price would keep the hat, though, and wear it to the bar where Reader is having her date/make up date. Because then she HAS to storm up to Price and demand it back??? HOURS of handcrafting, Gaz unhelpfully being like "the color suits him :)" Price not-so-subtly delighted at ALL of this (also he does kind of like the hat. Maybe he can convince you to make him one in a different color?)

Gaz asks you to point out your date (someone who immediately clocks as ick. Like a stock broker finance bro type?) and Gaz immediately vetoes that. That guy isn't your date anymore. He and Price are! Now, about this camera they owe you....

Price in a knit fuchsia cap got me fuckin' good. Sorry this took so long! Even more sorry I'm posting unedited, but if I look at this any longer I'll blow up so here we go

(follow up to this)

The worst part is, once you see him in it, shining like a neon sign from clear across the bar, you understand completely why they'd had to unceremoniously rip it off your head that day. Even here, surrounded as he is by the general visual noise of the city and patrons who are by no means dressed to blend in, the man sticks out like a sore thumb. (Made no better for the fact that he still stands head and shoulders above all those around him, of course, but that's beside the point.) You can only imagine how garishly you'd stood out among the stretch of that green meadow, how much you'd jeopardized not only their mission but their very lives by simply being there.

Of course, that knowledge does nothing to soothe the anger that rises within you when you see the men responsible for ruining your last (better) dating prospect waltz in on your current one as if their only new objective is to ruin your night again while wearing the handmade hat you're now realizing they'd stolen from you. (You'd thought you'd misplaced it on the bus last week. One moment it was there, the next gone. Now you wonder how you could have missed either of them sitting aboard public transportation, or how long they'd been following you to now conveniently show up in at least two of the same places you were.)

You stare daggers at the two of them. John ignores you, pink cap bobbing through the crowd as he makes his way to the bar. Kyle posts up at a booth and smirks at you openly, unabashedly. He's impossibly more attractive outside of the grease paint and twig mass. You ignore the delightful flip your belly does when he clocks the way you take in the breadth of him, how he tests the seams of his button down, and his smirk turns to the kind of smile that should require a legal registry.

"What are you looking at?"

You startle a bit when a big head floats into your field of vision, Jeremiah's frown completely obscuring the much better view you'd just been staring down. He swivels to look behind himself, head rotating like an automatic, unmanned security camera. Observing, but not seeing anything.

As far as prospects had gone, Jeremiah had been one of the least favorite matches you'd made on your little dating app; but after the failure from a few weeks past you'd been getting desperate, and his nice hair combined with his clever sales pitch tongue had eventually wooed you after enough messaging. Unfortunately, thirty seconds after meeting him in person you'd realized your initial instinct had indeed been right when he'd tried negging your outfit in the same breath he'd used to greet you at the door. He hadn't even chosen a good place to meet. With the way he dressed and spoke, you'd almost been looking forward to the novelty of some swanky bar uptown, but the pub he'd given you the name of was barely better than a hole in the wall. A dying fern stood in the corner, its only source of sustenance the light up dart board on its right, and the empty mugs surrounding it, the tacky puddle in its water pan suggesting it was a popular place to pour one's dregs out into. The sticky table felt like a fly trap, suggesting either years of buildup which had grown resistant to bleach, or a general incompetence on management's part as to how proper cleaning worked. You've no idea why you'd even stayed. Perhaps just a desire to stay out of the house. Part of you knows it's actually a desire to get laid so strong you're willing to overlook his shortcomings so long as you can clamp a hand over his mouth later and ride him until you're satisfied, but you don't want to look too closely at that part of you.

"Apologies. There's a man over there I recognize."

"Oh? Should I be worried?" His expression is genial enough when he asks, but his eyes keep something slightly colder at bay. Annoyance, perhaps. Not jealousy, you don't think. Not yet, at least. Probably hasn't actually clocked Kyle yet.

You should soothe him, you know. Coo reassurances, stutter through excuses and make up lies about just knowing them from your uni days or something. But then you remember Kyle's clever tongue, his blatant flirting. You remember John's heavy hands on you and the way they'd joked about keeping you all night. You're annoyed with them, more so when you remember how they'd left you high and dry after handing you off to the wolves back at base to tear into and question. But they're here now, have been for days, potentially, you're reminded when John ducks his head back into the booth, the subtle streaks of tinsel in the yarn you'd used glowing under the pendant light. He's got three drinks with him, sends you a casual wink when he spots you staring.

"Yes."

Jeremiah sputters. "Sorry?"

"Yes. You should be worried," you clarify casually. "Excuse me."

The boys aren't subtle about watching you as you approach, though Gaz leans into his captain's space to whisper something in his ear which makes his mustache twitch distractedly. It takes you a minute to pick your way over to them. You don't have much of a game plan beyond demanding your hat back, and hopefully garnering some insight as to why they're following you, but that doesn't explain the thrill you feel when their eyes trail you, or the way your mouth runs dry when you realize you're going to have to talk to them this time, no convenient excuse of situational silence keeping you from putting your foot in your mouth. You tell yourself you're at least not likely to drift off under one of them this time, and then suppress a heavy swallow when you realize you don't actually want that to be true. It's why your voice isn't quite as strong as you'd hoped when you approach their table, skipping formalities and demanding to know what they're doing here.

It's like they can smell your apprehension, John content to just keep smirking at you while Kyle responds with the kind of cocky voice you would hate on anyone else, but just serves to remind you how much the tone is earned when he uses it. "Can't a captain treat his favorite sergeant to a drink after work anymore?"

It's the phrasing that catches your attention, momentarily distracting you from reaching out and ripping your hat off John's head. It's too familiar to Jeremiah's own proposition for the evening, too jarring when used in relation to military work. "You've been following me," you state bluntly, wondering if it's possible they've even bugged your phones.

"Only a lot," Kyle agrees cheekily.

"Why?"

"Had to make sure you weren't going 'round telling everyone what you'd seen, petal," John grumbles, voice just as deep and dark as you remember. It's hard to hear him over the din of the pub. You tell yourself that's why you lean into him a bit when he speaks, though you turn it into a snatching motion easily enough.

"That why you stole my hat?"

John deflects you casually, turning your hand away somehow both deftly and gently. His grip changes once he has you under control, turning instead to guide you into the booth next to him. His arm finds the seat back behind you, but you stubbornly remain leaning forward, refusing to ease into him this time.

"Cap didn't steal it," Gaz corrects, eyes lingering on the captain's hand where he still grips your wrist. "I did."

It's hard to accept the fact that Kyle could ever escape your notice, but you suppose he's earned his position in life for a reason. "Right." You round on John, "So did you lose a bet?"

The captain chuckles. His thumb smoothes along the heel of your hand and then is gone, tipping the amber whiskey of his drink absently. "Won one, actually. Gaz here wanted to be the one to wear it."

"Would've looked better with my complexion," the other man reasons, batting his pretty eyes at you exaggeratedly. Far behind him, you spot your date sputtering indignantly to a waitress, the poor girl's face clearly disinterested. So much for your shoe-in. You refuse to acknowledge why that doesn't bother you as much as it would have even just five minutes ago.

"Yeah, well, if I only got to wear the things I wear better, I'd be walking around naked," John gripes goodnaturedly. "Isn't that right, flower?"

Kyle saves you from sputtering out an answer by sighing wistfully. "If only."

John smirks indulgently at him and you blink away, feeling like an outsider when you see the older man's hand disappear under the table, movement suggesting he's rubbing Kyle's leg. You try not to remember how it felt to have those heavy hands on you. "Can I get my hat back, please?"

"Well, at least you remembered your manners this time," John grumbles. You'd try snatching it off his head again just for the commentary, if you weren't becoming increasingly certain it would land you sprawled across his lap.

"Where you rushing off to anyway?" Kyle adds. He slides the third drink in front of John your way. "Drink with us."

You eye the fruity, fluorescent monstrosity before you skeptically. They don't seem the type to meet barely legal ladies out for a drink in a tiny place like this, but you can't imagine they'd had anyone else in mind when John had ordered whatever this was. "You expecting someone younger?"

John's low laugh makes his mustache twitch. "Heard once that a good rule of thumb if you don't know someone's drink order, is to try and match their outfit." He ducks his chin, looking you over from under his brow. In theory, it should seem more judgemental than appraising, but you still feel like he's assessing your outfit by removing it first.

Self consciously, you run your hand over the flowery blue dress you have on, distracting yourself from thinking too hard about what it meant that he'd bought you a drink. You suppose the color is a bit electric, but the way it fits more than makes up for its flashiness. Or at least, you'd thought it did. Now, seeing it paired with some stomach turning blue curaçao concoction, you feel much less certain about that. "You heard wrong. Besides, I can't stay. I'm on a date," you sniff. You probably shouldn't drink anything handed to you by men you knew were stalking you anyway.

Kyle shrugs agreeably, swapping your drink for his simple rum and coke as he asks who you're out with. You eye it warily, but spot the smudge of Kyle's own lips on the edge so you figure it's safe enough to drink, though you make a point of wiping it off, sneering at Kyle when he laughs at you.

"Stock broker Jeremiah," you recite, trying to keep the jeer from your tone. You motion back behind yourself. "Over there."

"Stock broker?" John repeats, voice so thick the words fall from his lips like smoke. You think you spot a smirk hidden in his chops.

"That your type, luv?"

"Not particularly," you admit. "But he'll have to do, seeing as the last one didn't take too kindly to being stood up."

Kyle tuts, tone too amused to be sympathetic. "Didn't believe you'd been laid up?"

"Should've had him call us, flower. We could've vouched for you," John suggests. Somehow, you know introducing these two to any prospective partners would be a terrible idea.

Still, it sounds amusing.

You shrug, wishing you had a beer bottle to peer the label off of. "Jeremiah makes good money," you offer, the only thing you can really remember from Jeremiah's profile. John hums, lower than the din of the room. Kyle's face is too blank, the same strict discipline he used with his cheek glued to his rifle. Briefly, you're back under John, the din of the surrounding crowd swallowed up by your twin heartbeats. Your eyes flick between the two, take in the tight control of their expressions. It would probably fool most, but you've spent your fair share of time studying the minutiae of faces, the way muscles twitch under stimuli no matter how properly trained the model. Even dead tissue will contract when properly motivated. "He's just bought me a new camera, in fact."

Gaz scoffs. John's eyes narrow. The two exchange sidelong glances and you sip your drink. You'd believed John when he'd said he'd replace your camera, but after being split up at base he'd never located you again and no one had been very forthcoming with information as to how you could contact your new friends to collect. A week after the incident, a cheap, basic camera and a base model macro lens had appeared on your step, the packaging cold and impersonal, shipped direct from the warehouse. No new boots ever came. The camera hadn't been anywhere near as nice as the one you'd lost, but it wasn't like there was a calling card you could air your grievances to so you'd cut your losses and just thanked whoever was listening that you'd even made it out of that valley alive. Now, however, watching the men who'd promised to take care of everything have their pride bruised by some asshole in a button up too expensive to deign resting his silken elbows on the dirty table of the bar he'd decided you were fit for, the weeks of frustration almost seemed worth it. And so what if it wasn't true anyway?

"Excuse me."

Your date's sudden appearance nearly makes you jump out of your skin, the prospect of introducing him to these men suddenly far less appealing when John rumbles, "Don't think I will."

Jeremiah sneers at him before turning to you. "I'm heading out. Don't think this -," he motions between the two of you, lets his finger swirl around the table to include the boys when the motion peters out, "- is for me. Have a good one, yeah?"

"Oh, um, okay. Sor-."

John stops you. "Don't apologize to him, petal. It's him there owes you one."

"And why would I need to apologize?"

"Existing?" Kyle suggests.

"Wasting her time?" John tacks on.

"Insulting my dress," you decide.

Kyle's tsk noise draws your attention. When you look, he's got those exaggeratedly huge eyes darting between you and your date. "When it fits you like that?" he clarifies, making you blush.

"Right wanker," John agrees. His voice is still playful, but the look he's leveling Jeremiah with is anything but.

"It's - it's -. It's blue!" your date sputters, waving at you as if your offense should be obvious.

John leans close, mustache tickling your ear. "Sounds like a man who can't appreciate a good pair of obnoxiously yellow wellies."

"You threw my wellies in the creek," you counter, too amused to muster much anger.

"Bought you new ones," Kyle offers and you narrow your eyes at him because, following you or not, there's no way they could know -.

"What size?"

Kyle just grins. "On the first date?"

"On our first date," Jeremiah reminds you.

You ignore them both, rounding on John. "And you ripped off my hat!" To illustrate your point, you attempt to snatch it back again, but the captain ducks it just as easily as he did the first time.

"I'll give it back when you make me a new one."

"Wait, I stole it fair and square," Kyle counters. John doesn't dodge him as easily, the silver streaks of his dark, mussed hair catching the light just like your yarn did. He doesn't even bother trying to snatch it back, watching with fond eyes as Kyle replaces his hat with your own. He'd been right, he does wear it better.

"If I make you one too, will you give it back?"

"Fat chance," the sergeant scoffs, and with an expert toss, he saucers his own hat onto your head, grinning like a fool when you let John tug it more firmly on.

A scoff behind you draws their attention. John glares over your shoulder again, but Kyle just waves, cheeky enough to elicit another humorless laugh. Byt the time you turn around, your date's already on his way. You're not particularly upset by it, figuring even if… whatever this is… doesn't pan out to anything, at least you'll have spent the evening in better company than originally planned.

The boys are both staring at you when you look back. You don't bother acting disappointed, though you know there's a version of this evening that sees you spitting mad, being soothed and gentled like a finicky horse with big hands and hushed tones. As appealing as it sounds, you'd rather spend your time actually talking, making up for your first meeting with them when you couldn't do much beyond gripe about your position, or whine about being bored. So instead you shrug, and the boy's smirks turn leery, and you suppress a shiver when Kyle leans across the table toward you, voice low when he asks what kind of camera 'the suit' bought you.

You panic in your response a bit, all higher end models you've had your eyes on for weeks fleeing your brain. Instead you tell them about the cheap thing you'd received in the mail and John scoffs.

"Got you something much better," he promises, pulling his phone from one of his many pockets and flicking through it. When he turns it toward you, an email confirmation tells him his package has been delivered, the details of the order showing the next model up from the very one he'd thrown in the brook. The description of the lens is cut off at the bottom, but you've no doubt you'll be happy enough when you see the pricing details. "You'll forgive the delay, of course. Man's gotta do some research, after all."

You'd even forgive the wellies continuing to go unreplaced, though in your excitement you forget to express that. "Of course. Of course! Thank you so much, John!" You're still gushing gratitudes when you slip out of the booth, turning to excuse yourself so quickly you even forget to snatch your hat back.

"Where do you think you're going?"

"To go get -?" You stall, taking in their confused - even slightly miffed - expressions. "Look, if that package sits on my stoop too long, my neighbors will -."

Kyle laughs, crooks his finger at you. It's embarrassing how quickly you oblige, slipping right back into your seat just because his eyes are too warm and inviting to disappoint.

John's voice is much closer than you remember it being before you'd stood, the low rumble in his chest a physical thing you feel against your shoulder when he leans close. "No need to worry, petal. It's back at mine. Safe as houses."

"Didn't have your address," Kyle winks.

It's weird, the way you can laugh at jokes about being followed. You decide not to think about it too much. "Sounds more like an elaborate plot to get me back at yours."

"Well, we're unused to not getting our mark," John confesses, "had to have another shot at it."

Kyle's cheeky when he responds, his boyish grin enough to have you settling against John before you even know what you're about. "For the record, I never did take a shot the first time."

#asks #the wellyboot incident #pricegaz x reader

166 notes · View notes

sugarbbgrl · 1 month

Text

prof!price cont. read this before continuing.

warning(s): pet names, fingering, oral (f receiving), praise, age gap MDNI

wc: 1783

He places a small kiss to your temple before pulling his face away from yours, a sadistic smirk spread across his lips. Your eyes meet his once more, face now stained red. A small pit has formed in your stomach, either of embarrassment for arousal, maybe both. You open your mouth to speak but nothing but a shaky breath escapes past your lips.

“What? Too shy to speak, doll?” His smirk widens, a wicked look in his eyes. You do your best to swallow with a dry throat, you wet your lips as you take in everything that’s happened thus far.

"I could take you right here," His eyes stay glued to yours as he brings your hands up to his mouth, pressing a delicate kiss to each palm. "I could rip those jeans off of you, dip my fingers into you and feel how wet I can make you with just a look." Price hands leave yours to grasp at your waist, gripping not too harshly but firm enough to keep you still.

He dips his face down into your neck, peppering light kisses along the vein that runs along it, your eyes fluttering shut at the gentle feeling. He presses his pelvis into you, his hard cock flush against your clothed stomach. The action elicits a soft moan to slip, your hands eventually finding their way to his hair.

"Professor.." You gasp out, his kisses becoming more heated along the length of your neck, lightly sucking along the way. Every nerve in your body lights up, aware of your professor's body against yours.

“Please,” He mutters against your flush skin. “Call me John, sweetheart.”

John. John. John. Your heart yearns to let the name slip from your lips, but your mouth won’t let it.

You finally bring your hands up to his shoulders, skimming the broad surface underneath your touch. You wrap your arms around his neck and allow yourself to finally give into the man before you. John’s mouth makes its way up your jawline before capturing your mouth with his. He groans into your mouth, the taste of you overwhelming his senses.

He tastes of cigar smoke and bitter coffee. His lips are plush, soft caresses compared to the harshness of his calloused hands. You thread your fingers in his short locks at the nape of his neck, pressing your body further into him. The kiss is firm, rushed but not harsh. John doesn’t want to hurt his pretty little doll, he wants to show her a gentleness fit for a queen.

John’s hands move to your ass, gripping at your clothed flesh before moving to your thighs. He only breaks the kiss to lift you up and you instinctively wrap your legs around his waist. Your lips meet once again, almost like magnets. Your teeth capture his bottom lip, nibbling.

“Christ, I don’t know how much longer I can hold out, Doll.” John sighs as you bring your attack to his neck, sucking in a harsh breath through his nose and your tongue drags against the stubbly area.

“Take what’s yours, John.” Your voice vibrates against his throat, earning another groan from the older man holding you up. As if a switch flipped, he rushed to his desk and laid you on your back, not caring about what gets knocked over and broken in the process. His hands move to your chest, kneading your breasts through your shirt.

“No bra? You naughty little minx.” He grins and winks before taking each side of your blouse, ripping it off of you. Buttons fly and a sharp gasp leaves your mouth at the sudden action and the crisp A/C colliding with your bare nipples. You could feel how painfully hard he is through his slacks as he leans down to capture a nipple in his mouth. His beard tickles your chest as he sucks and swirls his tongue around the sensitive area, a whimper leaving your lips. You buck your hips into his, desperate for any sort of friction at this point.

“Ah ah, pretty girl. I want to savor you.” John pulls away from your nipple, a small ‘pop’ sounding around you. You whine at the loss of contact and you find yourself almost pawing at this face to come back. He chuckles and dips down to the valley between your tits, kissing a wet trail to the hem of your jeans. John unbuttoned the tight clothing, pulling them down by the belt loops. He leans up only for a moment to admire your light pink, lacy thongs adorning your bottom half.

“Seems like you’d planned for this to happen.” He comments, the fire in his eyes and chest burning like a jet engine. “As lovely as these look on you, they’ve got to go, sweetheart.” Rather than tearing the thin fabric to bits like he did with your blouse, he chooses to slide them down your legs.

He didn’t even give himself a chance to take both items before putting you in a crunch-like position and finally getting a taste of what he needed. He spread your lips and immediately began suckling at your swollen clit. You hand flew to his hair, gripping the soft, short curls into your fist and let out a strangled gasp. John nipped at the sensitive bud with his teeth before running his tongue up your dripping slit, stopping to delve into your contracting opening and tasting your nectar.

“John, oh my God!” You did your best to silence yourself as your cries echoed through the open and empty area of his classroom. He replaced his tongue with two fingers from his free hand, prodding your entrance with the thick digits. He pushed into you, cursing at how slick your walls are and slowly pulled them out before pushing them back in once more.

You don’t mind the burn your body was brandishing from the position he has you in, anything to have the professor you’d had a crush on for the majority of the semester at your mercy. You could feel his fingers push against your sweet spot while his gentle attack on your clit progressed. Every hair stood on end as goosebumps rose to your skin, indicating your inevitable release. Your hand gripped his hair harder, a groan escaping John’s lips and vibrated against you. You whine as you could feel the tightness pool in your lower belly, every action and sound he made pushing you closer to your climax.

“John, I’m close.” You breathe out, your eyes rolling back as he adds a third finger into you, the pleasurable stretch inching you closer. His tongue stopped its assault on your rosey bud, but his fingers never stopped. John stood from the position below you, his intense, deep blue eyes meeting you half-lidded ones.

“I want to watch you fall apart, my pretty little doll.” John’s gruff voice sent shivers down your spine and straight to your nerves. You begun to shake as John leaned down to press a delicate kiss to your forehead, quickening the pace of his fingers fucking you. You whine and whimper, eventually turning into louder moans. He leans away from your forehead, his eyes burning holes into yours.

Your eyes threaten to snap shut as you near your end, wanting to savor the immense pleasure you’re in. “Don’t you dare close your eyes. I want you to look at me as you come.” John’s voice once again rattled your insides, you begrudgingly listening to his dominant words. The intensity in his eyes never let up as you finally slip over the edge.

The profound orgasm ripped through you, every nerve buzzing from the sweet release. Tears prick the corners of your eyes and you hand reach for his shoulders, your nails digging into his flesh. You cry out, strings of unintelligible words slip from your lips and settle into John’s satisfied ears. Your whole body shakes, near convulsions as John slows his fingers until eventually pulling out of you completely.

“Made quite the mess of you, ay, sweet baby.” John grins once again, bringing his three soaked fingers to your mouth. He taps lightly on the reddened flesh, coaxing you to open up. You wrap your fingers around the thick, meaty digits, tasting your own saltiness covering them. You swirl your tongue around them before he pulls them out. John leans down and presses his lips to yours again. This kiss is sloppier this time, the both of you spent from the escapades.

John gently pulls your panties and jeans back up your legs, pressing small kisses to your heated skin along the way. You begin to finally regain your strength to lean up on your elbows, your face flush and vision a bit hazy.

“You are quite the sight for sore eyes, sweet girl.” John takes your hands in his and kisses the back of them, locking eyes with you again. You feel like your face can’t get anymore red, the comment making you shy once more even after everything that just played out. You eyes dropped down to the strain in his pants, his cock nearly throbbing from the lack of attention. You reach out, wanting to help him out after everything.

“Not today, love, you can return the favor another time.” He shakes his head and kisses your temple. You’d definitely have to return a huge favor for him. You find your strength to stand once more, holding your arm against your chest.

“Well, now this is the tricky part considering you tore my top to shreds.” You giggle, casting a gaze to the pathetic excuse for a blouse on the floor. John chuckles and walks over to his backpack, unzipping it and pulling out a sweatshirt of his. You thank him and toss the soft material over your head, his smell strong within each stitch.

“How’s about we go out to dinner one of these nights? I don’t want this to just be a quickie, I want to get to know you more.” John brings his hand up and pushes a strand of your hair behind your ebay before caressing your soft cheek, the pad of his rough thumb running over your cheekbone. You smile up at him and nod, bringing your bottom lip between your teeth.

“I’d like that very much, John.” His eyes brighten more at your acceptance, bringing you in for a tight, affectionate hug. It’s been a crazy day, everything you’d ever dreamed of coming to fruition and then some. As you stand in the middle of your favorite professor’s room, enveloped in his burly frame, you think to yourself about all the ways you can repay him.

#call of duty #cod mw2 #john price #captain price #captain price smut #captain price x reader #john price x reader #simon ghost riley #ghost mw2 #ghost cod #soap mactavish #ghost riley #john soap mactavish #kyle garrick #kyle gaz garrick #cod x reader #cod smut

187 notes · View notes

echobx · 2 months

Text

Twin Flame 3 - pervy!bsf!JJ Maybank × pervy!bsf!fem!reader

summary: y/n is hurt and JJ isn't planning on being the bigger person either

word count: 2.3k

warnings: talk about feelings, JJ and y/n lying to themselves and their friends, smut, oral (fem receiving), outdoor

author's note: while writing I thought this was the last part and then suddenly I was at 2k again and thought to myself, just cut here and write another one so that's what I'm doing. apparently writing without a plan works better than writing with a plan.

series masterlist ♡ part 1 ♡ part 2

“Shit, you look horrible,” Kie said as you showed up for your shift at the Wreck.

“Didn't sleep,” you mumbled while wrapping the apron around your hips. After what JJ had done, you had first cried for about an hour, trying to reconcile with your conflicting feelings towards him. Then you had cleaned yourself up and driven to the one 24-hours store out of town that had a pharmacy, getting Plan B just in case, because you weren't a hundred percent sure that you had always taken the pill on time. A kid would ruin your future at this point. JJ’s kid, maybe even more so. He would resent you for it, probably, just as you would him.

“Think you can manage, or want me to cover for you?” Kie suggested, but you shook your head. You desperately needed the distraction the job provided.

So, that's what you did for the following week, picking up every shift the Carreras allowed you to, and afterward you went straight home. Not to the Chat. And especially not to JJ.

“Okay, seriously now, what the fuck is up with you?” Kie pulled you to the side one evening, and you shrugged.

“I don't know what you mean?”

“You're avoiding us, all of us. Why?” she stared at you.

“I have shit on my plate, work and-” you tried to find an excuse, but you couldn't tell her the truth.

“And?”

“It doesn't matter. Why do you care?”

“Because I'm your friend, dummy,” Kiara tapped against your head repeatedly.

“Ouch. And maybe I just don't want to get shitfaced every other night,” you mumbled, wanting to walk off, but her hand was still firm around your biceps.

“Bullshit.”

“Fine. I don't wanna see JJ. Are you happy now?” you hissed, and she furrowed her brows.

“Why? That makes no sense. The two of you are like conjoined twins.”

“I don't want to talk about it. Just let it go, Kie.” You ripped your arm from her hold and continued working.

At the Château, JJ had to deal with similar inquiries.

“Kie just texted,” John B sighed, running his hand over his face exasperatedly. “Wanna explain to me why y/n says that you're at fault for her not coming by for over a week?”

“How would I know? Women are a mystery,” JJ rolled his eyes and continued smoking.

“For someone who's usually the best at lying, you're doing a fucking shit job right now,” John B scoffed.

“What? You want me to tell you my deepest, darkest secrets?” JJ leaned forward, his arms resting on his knees. “Want me to tell you that she begged me to fuck her, and now she's acting like a whiny bitch about it? Want that truth?”

“No, I want the real truth. We both know she'd never do that,” JB laughed, trying to lighten the mood, and JJ decided to play the innocent.

“Of course she wouldn't, little miss perfect.”

“What if you just went and apologized for whatever you did?” John B proposed and JJ leaned back again. “What if… what if… what if, I just sat here and forgot all about it? How about that?”

“That won't bring her back,” his best friend sighed.

“And what makes you think I'd want her back?” JJ was lying to himself. The lack of contact was gnawing at his heart strings. He knew he wouldn't hold out much longer without seeing you, but he also didn't want to be the one to cave.

“I don't know, maybe the fact that you love her? She's like a sister to the both of us.”

“A sister would never do the shit y/n did to me,” JJ thought to himself, but he kept quiet.

Two days later you decided to go visit your favorite place on the island, a small lagoon, a hidden gem that only the deep locals knew about. But only JJ knew how important the spot was to you, so it didn't entirely surprise you when you found him there, lying on the big rock in the sun like a gator waiting for its prey.

“And I had hoped you'd died,” you joked, and he turned his head to look at you. “You owe me fifty, asshole.”

“Since when?” JJ smirked, the tone of your voice was far from angry, and the spark in your eyes was neither mad nor anxious.

“Since I had to buy Plan B because you don't know what a condom looks like,” you rolled your eyes and placed your towel on the sandy ground.

“Fine,” he exhaled and turned back to looking up at the sky.

“Everyone's annoying me about not being at the Chat every free minute of my shitty life,” you groaned, and JJ had to laugh.

“Everyone's annoying me because you aren't at the Chat every free minute of your shitty life.”

“Haha, funny,” you mocked.

“JB asked why you weren't coming by, I told him the truth, and he told me to stop lying, so there's that,” JJ sighed, and you looked at him in shock.

“Why would you tell him at all?”

“Chill, he didn't believe me. Why would anyone? Hell, I wouldn't even believe it myself.”

“Why?”

“He said you were like a sister to the both of us,” JJ huffed. “True brotherly love, then. Straight out of that medieval dragon show.”

“Game of Thrones?” you cocked your brow.

“Yeah, that shit.”

“We aren't related, though, JJ. It's nothing like that, at all,” you remind him.

“Still fucked up. I mean, I watched you grow boobs, basically,” he muttered.

“Way to make it weird,” you rolled your eyes at him and finally took your seat on the towel.

“Was weird before it started, remember?” His eyes were fixed on you.

“Do you regret it?” you posed without thinking much about the question until it has slipped out.

“Should I? Do you?” His eyes traced your face, and you looked away, out onto the sound and trying to remember if it truly had been easier before, or if nostalgia was playing a trick on you.

“I'm not sure. I mean, I do like the way you kiss,” you smiled, more to yourself than to please him.

“Of course you do. You taught me. Remember?” JJ chuckled. “I still don't know where you knew that from. You hadn't even kissed anyone yet.”

“There's a lot of things I know of, although I haven't gotten to try them yet,” you smirked and he sat up.

“Like what?”

“Love.” You didn't know why that nasty word had slipped out, but now it was hanging over you, and you hated it.

“Hmm, yeah, makes sense,” JJ nodded and jumped down from the stone, sitting down next to you, and you let your head fall to his shoulder.

“I’m sorry for how mean I was last week,” you whispered, and he held his hand out for you to take, intertwining your fingers as you did.

“I'm sorry for not having a condom, and for being an asshole who didn't let you come, although that technically was a punishment. And for running out like I did,” he apologized, and you felt like it was easier to breathe again.

“We're pretty fucked up, aren't we?”

“Seems like it. Yeah,” he said before exhaling a short laugh.

“What's so funny?” you asked, and he turned to face you, holding your face in his hands.

“You,” his eyes jumped between your own, trying to find a place to settle, but he couldn't seem to find it. “I mean, they expect me to be the weird creepy fucker, and they're not wrong. But who would've expected that you're worse than me.”

“Not worse. Equally, shit,” you reminded him quietly. “Made from the same bullshit material.”

“You got that high quality shit, though.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. Parents, and that ass? Can't complain at all,” JJ smirked, and you swatted at his arm. “What? It's true.”

“My parents aren't even that good.”

“That’s what you're focusing on?” he huffed a laugh.

You leaned towards him and whispered, “I know that my ass is immaculate, Maybank.”

His lips were pressed to yours quicker than you could've said your own name, and you sighed into it. The feeling of his soft, warm lips against your own was one of your favorite feelings ever. Your whole body felt aflame under his touch, hands groping at your tits before he made you lie down underneath him, pressing himself between your thighs.

“J,” you moaned as his lips traveled down your neck.

“Gotta make it up to you, don’i?” he smirked and you nodded. It was a little messy when he helped you rid yourself of your clothes, leaving you completely naked and him still fully clothed.

“Fuck, you're gorgeous,” JJ groaned, his hands roaming over your body as if it was the holy grail. He squeezed your tits, and your back arched up in response, a gasp leaving you that was matched by his teasing chuckle.

“You know, princess, I'm just not that good with words ‘cause my tongue was made for other things,” he told you and a second later he was eating you out like his last meal.

JJ licked a long stripe up your wet cunt, humming at the taste. He wasn't thinking too much about what exactly he was doing, and just followed his instincts. Sucking on your clit until you screamed his name, digging his fingers into your thighs while his tongue thrusted into you. You were a mess because of him. You were his mess.

“Oh God,” you cried out, the knot in your stomach tightening. You didn't think of telling him that no one had ever done this to you, made you feel complete ecstasy with the simple use of their tongue. He wouldn't need to know, you knew it would just boost his already massive ego.

“Gonna be a good girl and come for me, baby?” JJ smiled up at you, and you nodded rapidly.

“Make me come, J,” you whined, and he dipped his head again. And JJ didn't think much about it when he pushed his fingers into your aching cunt, curling them up repeatedly while his lips were closed around your clit. He was drunk on you; your taste, your moans, the way your body reacted to every little touch of his. Feeling you clench around his fingers was probably one of the better things in his life. But tasting your release jumped straight to no.1, and if you’d let him, he'd do it every day and night.

He kept his fingers buried inside you until you had fully come down from your high. “You good?” he smirked and you nodded.

“Can I get up?” you whispered, and he pulled away, sitting up and watching you pull your shit back on as if you were embarrassed about it.

“Everything’s like normal again?” he asked after having licked his fingers clean.

“I don't know,” you shook your head. It wasn't like you didn't want to go back to before the tiny disagreement, but with everything the two of you did, you gained more clarity.

“So, you didn't want this to happen just now? ‘Cause this is all confusing, all right,” JJ sighed and shook his head.

“No, I did. It's just not the same anymore. What if you meet someone, and you fall in love, and then we have to go back to just being friends. Could you do that?” you posed, and he didn't know what to answer, so he hit you back with a question of his own.

“What if you fall in love?”

“I don't even know what love is, JJ. How am I supposed to know what it feels like to fall in love,” you snorted at how funny his question was to you.

“I don't know,” he sighed, looking down at his hands. He had never been very touchy-feely, with no one, not even you. And yet you were always the only one allowed to do more to him than anyone else in his life. He let you cut his hair, let you tend to his injuries back when Luke had been around. He told you more than he did John B, but he knew he loved John B like a brother, just like he did Pope, like he loved Sarah and Kie and Cleo, and you. But not really.

“Is it, like, different from when you love your siblings? Like, do you think it feels different from the way I feel about JB and all of them?” JJ asked quietly, but you didn't know what to reply.

“Maybe we should ask him, he should know, right? About what it feels like, at least.”

“Yeah,” JJ turned to smile at you, fully dressed and looking as if he hadn't just deconstructed your whole being minutes earlier.

“What’ya think how long it'll take for that bush in front of your window to grow normal again? Like, there's prolly a big’ol JJ shaped hole in there,” he joked, and you had to laugh.

“Are you planning on not using it anymore?”

“Hell no. I can just come inside now, right?” he flashed his eyebrows at you and you groaned.

“You're not doing that again. I don't want to have to deal with three kids.”

“Three?”

“You count double,” you laughed, and he faked offense.

“Let's be honest, it would probably be easier to have kids with your best friends than to think love lasts. I mean, look at my parents,” JJ huffed after a moment of silence.

“Mine are fighting too much recently. I wish they would just say what they think and not talk so much bullshit all the time,” you sighed, and he pulled you closer, his arm over your shoulder.

“You know, you can always stay at my place if they get too much.”

“I know,” you smiled up at him, and he kissed the top of your head.

taglist: @redhead1180 @spideysimpossiblegirl @drwstarkeyy @princessmaybank @ijustwantttoread @kys4-20 @immyowndefender @julczimozart @m2m2m2 @mochimms @dorkyfangirl24

read part 4 here

please don't copy and/or post my work onto other platforms! ~e©ho

#jj maybank #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank x you #jj maybank smut #jj maybank imagine #jj maybank x y/n #jj maybank fanfic #obx #obx fanfiction #my writing #~fanfiction #~twin flame

130 notes · View notes

smileysuh · 1 year

Text

NiceGuyJohnny : nct

🌙 staring. Johnny x afab!Reader

🔮 preview. “You know,” he sighs as his fingers pump into you, “I was a little worried that- since it’s been so long since I fucked you properly, maybe it would be harder to make you cum, but-” he applies more pressure to your gspot and you’re crying out, pussy clenching ridiculously tight around his digits, “you’re squirting just as easily as I remember.”

cw/ tw. 69ing, oral, unprotected sex, size kink, manhandling, dirty talk, fingering, squirting, multiple orgasms, dumbification, praise, slight cum play/kink, etc... I petnames. (hers) sweetheart, baby, etc... (his) daddy.

👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 7.5k

🍭 aus. cam girl reader, poly idols, idols sharing a fuck buddy, dirty boy idols, etc...

☀️ mlist + an. camroom directory here - final chapter! when I started this series, I always knew John would be the endgame and I know some of my foreshadowings have tipped people off- thank you to everyone who's been here throughout this long endeavor- happy easter and happy John day!

“You keep checking the time.”

“Am I?” Johnny sighs, tearing his eyes from his phone to look at Mark.

“You know…” the Canadian averts his gaze, “no one would blame you if you want to skip the party tonight.”

“Skip our ‘tour ended and we’re back in Seoul’ party?” Johnny scoffs. “Why would I do that?”

“Well, I mean… you haven’t seen y/n in a while-”

Johnny cuts his friend off, “She’s invited tonight.”

“I know but- you just keep checking your phone, so I sort of assumed-”

“Don’t do that.” Johnny hates how curt he’s being with Mark, but he can’t help himself. “Assume things, I mean.”

He hates how his deepest secrets are so painfully obvious to his best friend, hates how Mark can be much more observant than anyone gives him credit for.

“Fine, I won’t,” Mark sighs. “But seriously- if you wanted to skip tonight… no one would blame you.”

Johnny only wishes this was true. As observant as Mark is, he hasn’t seemed to pick up on the fact that both Jaehyun and Haechan have a thing for you- something that goes beyond what anyone sees on cam.

People will - in fact - blame Johnny if he skips tonight, especially if it means him going to your apartment, knocking on your door, and saying whats been on his mind for over two years now.

As time ticks by and Johnny gets increasingly uncharacteristically anxious, so does his need to rip the bandaid off. It’s not like his thoughts can go unsaid any longer- even if he was to wait to the party to see you. If Mark can read the emotions on his face, Johnny has no doubt you’ll see right through him, and is a party really the best place to have the conversation he needs to have with you?

Johnny sighs and checks his phone again.

“John?”

He loves it when you answer your phone like this. His name sounds right coming from you- as right as anything Johnny has ever known.

“Hey you,” he can’t help the smile that appears on his face, and he looks down, twiddling with the sleeves of his sweater. “Still coming to the party tonight?”

“You know I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

He loves that he can hear your own grin- and he endevours to be the source of your smiles for as long as humanly possible.

“Do you need a ride?”

“I was gonna call a cab-”

“Don’t,” he tells you, “let me drive you.”

“Are you sure? Don’t you need to be getting ready for the party?”

“Nah, Doyoung and Taeyong are dealing with that- I just get in the way, like always.”

“Very naughty of you, John.”

There’s that smile again, and he can almost visualize it in his mind’s eye.

It’s been much too long since he’s seen you in person, and if he has to wait any longer, he might just combust.

“So you’ll let me pick you up?”

“Something tells me even if I said no, you’d show up anyways.”

“You’re right about that,” he grins to himself.

“So I guess I’ll see you at eight?”

“Maybe before,” Johnny says under his breath.

Another laugh that sounds like music to his ears, then, “Just text me when you’re in front of my building.”

“You got it, baby.”

“Bye, John.”

“See you soon.”

At ten to eight there’s a knock on your door, and you pull yourself away from your vanity to go see who’s arrived at your apartment. There’s not text from John, so you’re prepared to see a neighbour or even your land lord-

Your breath catches as you open your door to reveal the windswept idol, his hands resting on either side of the frame. He’s so big- you’ve almost forgotten how big he is, how tall-

“John-” you watch his eyes dip to your lips, and the next moment he’s cupping your face, stepping into your apartment and pressing his mouth to yours.

You grab at the front of his jacket, pulling him closer. With a quick motion of his foot, he’s closing the door behind himself, and one hand leaves your face to click the lock into place-

“Wait- John,” you say again, biting gently at his lip-

“Just let me kiss you-” he pleads, words breathy as his mouth ghosts over your own.

You want to let him just kiss you- but this is definitely not something you’d exprected on your agenda tonight- especially without warning, and the shock at suddenly seeing Johnny again causes you to be as firm as you’ve ever been with him. You press your hands flat to his abdomen, giving a small push- and your favorite idol pulls away from you without another word of protest.

There are a million questions on your mind, but the first one that comes out is; “How did you even get into the building?”

“Someone was leaving and when I approached they just held the door open-”

“They’re not supposed to do that-” you sigh, “the land lord posted a whole invoice about letting people in without keys- and hey! You’re not supposed to do that either! Walking into my apartment- you’re an idol, what if someone recognized you-”

“Are you that disappointed to see me?” Johnny is smiling down at you with all the ease in the world.

You’re amusing him, and he’s at his most handsome when amused like this.

“Why didn’t you just text me?”

“I don’t know…” for the first time, he looks thoughtful, “maybe I wanted to surprise you.”

“How long were you waiting?”

His gaze has shifted to your lips again, and there’s something of a dreamy glint in his eye when he sighs and says, “Longer than you can imagine-”

“John-” you groan.

“I’m serious-” He catches your jaw between two fingers, and you find yourself looking up into eyes that have suddenly turned sincere. “I’ve got something to tell you.”

“You do?” Your voice comes out a squeak, and your heart is thundering in your ribcage like never before.

“Uh huh.” His tongue swipes over his lower lip. “But aren’t you going to invite me in first?”

The energy shift gives you something like whiplash, and you blink up at - arguably - your most stable lover. “Invite you in?” You take a small breath. “Aren’t we going out?”

“I think I need some water actually.” Johnny’s hand drops, your chin released, and the large man shifts past you to head to your kitchen.

“John-” you give your head a little shake, moving to follow him. “Are you okay? You’re acting a little…”

“Acting a little what?” He fills a glass with water, cocking an eye brow at you.

“Off?” you suggest, doing the best to make sense of his erratic behaviour. He takes a sip of his drink, and you sigh. “Look… if you’re here to do a cam show before the party-”

“I’m not.” Johnny puts his water down, studying your face.

You’re not convinced, and he knows it.

“Really-” he insists, “I’m not here for a cam show- fuck- even if you had suggested one…” he looks like he’s considering it but ends up shaking his head, “no, even then- no cam show.”

“No cam show,” you repeat his words, still not fully satisfied.

“Why do you sound like you still don’t believe me?” He grins at you.

“I just- I don’t think we’ve ever been in a situation where you don’t want to fuck me-”

“Who said I don’t want to fuck you?”

Your brows furrow in confusion. “You did- you just said no cam show-”

“True- no cam show, that doesn’t mean I don’t want to tear your clothes off- why do you think I had to get water? Needed something to distract myself-” His eyes move up and down your form, and he takes another sip of his drink.

“John-” you feel a rush of wet between your legs- it’s funny how easily this man can make a mess of your panties.

“So what do you want to do, princess?” Johnny asks. “Do you still want to go to the party? I know I’d prefer having some time alone here with you first… I still have something I need to talk to you about but-”

“Can it wait?”

He pauses for a moment, studying you. From the way he breaks out in a grin, you can tell he’s read you as easily as ever- read the horny warning signs-

“It can wait,” he confirms. “No camshow, just us?”

“Please, just get over here-” you reach your hands out for him and all it takes is two strides for Johnny to press his lips to yours again.

You melt into the kiss this time. You’re still not a hundred percent sure what’s going on with him- but enough of your questions have been answered. And you suppose you can only stand in the same room with Johnny Suh for so long before jumping his bones-

You’re shocked you’ve lasted this long.

It feels amazing to have his large hands on you again- and his lips are as familiar as your soft pillow, or your favourite blanket. It feels like home to be wrapped in his arms- to be the main focus of an idol adored by countless fans all over the world-

But more than that- it feels like nothing else because this is Johnny- and there’s no one else like him.

Your heart aches in your chest when Johnny simply reaches down and lifts you up, forcing your legs around his hips while he carries you off in the direction of your room.

You can tell by the way he’s kissing you that he’s missed you more than he can say- and you’ve missed him just the same, wordlessly communicated through the way you kiss him back, tongue swiping against his bottom lip as a groan works its way out of your mouth.

Before you know it, the two of you are falling onto your bed, and it’s another familiar feeling.

How many times has he fucked you here? How many times has he made you cum-

It’s been much too long since you last saw Johnny, but your bodies are moving in sync as if he’d never even been gone.

Everything has always just been easy with Johnny- and it’s fun too.

When mid lip lock his exploritive hands discover your dress has a zipper up the back and it won’t be easily tugged off, Johnny pulls away from you just long enough to flip you onto your stomach, and you find yourself giggling at the manhandling.

“Sorry baby, give me one second to get this dress off of you-” he says, breath hot against your exposed back as he tugs the zipper down.

Johnny’s straddling your thighs, and it’s an easy enough position for you to tease him with. You push your ass back and up, rubbing it against his crotch while releasing a sigh. “I can’t believe I dressed up all pretty and we’re not even going to the party-”

“We can still go to the party,” he assures you, warm fingers gliding against your spine to undo your bra clasp.

“No, daddy,” you smile, “we can’t.”

“No? And why’s that, baby?” His lips ghost over your shoulder.

“Because we have an entire tour’s worth of time to make up for- and I’d like you to fuck me till I can’t walk.”

You feel him smile against your skin and his mouth moves to your neck. “I think that can be arranged,” he says, teeth dragging by your ear lobe and making you twitch. He pulls away much too fast. “And actually- now that you mention it, how about you stand up and let me see your dress one last time before you take it off- you know, to appreciate it.”

“Really?” you groan. “Can’t you just tear it off me?”

“Daddy wants to see his princess, now be a good girl for me and let me appreciate you.”

How could you resist a request like this?

When Johnny moves to sit on the bed, you’re free to stand up, and you turn to face him.

He’s breathtaking- leaning against the pillows, his eyes warm and his smile affectionate. “It’s a pretty dress baby, I should have told you that when I got here but- well,” he shrugs, “I was distracted by your lips.”

“You and your sweet talking,” you smile, shaking your head. “Should I strip for you, daddy? The way you stripped for all your fans on tour?”

Johnny laughs, and the sound is music to your ears. “Jealous, baby?”

“Not any more than you watching my cam shows, I bet,” you say, meaning for it to be a dismissive comment- because you know Johnny doesn’t get jealous seeing you with others…

Right?

“You’re funny, a funny baby” he chuckles, but there’s less joy in this sound than the one previous. “Take that dress off, funny baby, daddy’s getting impatient.”

“Yes sir-” you tease, slipping your staps down so your dress and bra can fall to the floor. You step out of the fabric, toying with the waistband of your underwear. “What about these, daddy?”

“Take them off now or risk them getting torn, your choice.” Johnny’s working on the buttons of his own shirt, jacket already discarded by the door-

You lose focus for a moment, too distracted by each strip of the beutiful idol’s newly exposed skin-

“Tick tock, darling,” your soft dom reminds you, grinning at the way you’re standing there frozen.

“Right- sorry,” you slip your panties off and the coolness of the room rushes over your wet, hot, pussy.

God, you need to be filled- you need to be filled so bad it hurts.

You hop onto the bed, reaching for the waistband of Johnny’s pants. “I missed your cock so bad, daddy-”

“Yeah?”

“Missed it in my mouth, and in my pussy-”

“Mmm-” Johnny groans when you squeeze him through his pants, tracing the outline of his hard cock. “If you missed my dick so much- and I’ve missed that pretty fucking pussy of yours- maybe the only way to make sure we both get what we want is to start with you sitting on my face while you take me in your mouth- or at least, as much of me as you can fit.”

69-ing is not a position you generally do with Johnny- but you suppose it’s been a long time since you’ve fucked. Maybe he’s picked up some new tricks? Maybe this just shows that you’re both absolutely insatiable- neither of you had the patience to wait much longer and Johnny definitely knows it.

“Have you really missed me that much?” you ask as Johnny lifts his hips to pull his pants down.

“More than you can imagine,” he admits, shuffling down the bed, “now be a good girl and come sit on Daddy’s face.”

His hands help you get into position, and before you can even lower yourself down, he’s applying pressure to help you sit onto his mouth, his tongue pushing into your pussy-

Johnny groans loudly against your core, and you think it must be from discovering how wet you already are. Or maybe he’s missed the taste of you- either way, the sound makes you even more turned on, the hands on your hips urge you to grind down-

“Fuck, Johnny-” you moan, wrapping your hand around the base of his cock, ready to guide him to your lips-

A gentle smack on your ass is a reminder that Johnny expects the title of Daddy- at least, he does right now, and it brings a smile to your face. You like that he doesn’t stop eating your pussy- he has his priorities straight, and you think you should too, as you wrap your mouth around the pretty head of his cock-

Another groan from Johnny has your pussy throbbing, clit needing his attention- in a 69 position, you can’t just grind yourself against his nose, and it frustrates you as you take more and more of him into your mouth.

When he’d suggested this- you’d thought it would be just a little foreplay- you’ve never cum in a 69 before- but when Johnny applies more pressure to your hips, forcing you down against his mouth- you realize you’re in very real danger of cumming sooner than you’d expected.

There’s something about the duality of being stuffed with his cock in your mouth, and his tongue in your pussy-

You’re not quite sure where to focus, but you’re turned on enough that you’re drooling all over his dick, and your pussy is throbbing with wetness that Johnny eagerly laps up-

You moan around his cock and Johnny’s hips twitch, forcing more of him into your mouth.

He’s the one who moans next, wrapping his lips around your clit and sucking-

Your toes curl as pleasure courses through you, and you begin to pump the base of Johnny’s cock, using your drool as lube.

Part of you wants to make him cum from your mouth if he’s going to do the same to you, but another part of you knows that’s unrealistic- Johnny’s got a big cock, he cums big loads, and it always takes a big little while to get him there, but damn, you enjoy the ride.

It’s becoming harder and harder for you to breathe while focusing on everything- and you take your mouth off Johnny, groaning loudly while you continue pumping his cock with your hand. “Fuck- Daddy- feels so good-”

He growls against your pussy, switching between lapping at you and sucking on your clit.

“Just like that- please- fuck- daddy- I think I’m gonna cum-” You close your eyes, allowing yourself to get lost in the feeling of your stomach muscles tightening- “Yeah- I’m gonna cum from your tongue- don’t stop, please-”

Not only does Johnny not stop, he eats you out with even more vigour, groaning against your pussy and sending you into a frenzy.

“Fuck- daddy-” you hardly have time to say much else before you’re cumming on his tongue, core muscles clenching as pleasure consumes you.

The orgasm feels kind of like a firecracker, an eruption of jittery ecstasy that fizzles over your form, making your hair raise from your skin before heat is left in it’s wake. Sparkly waves of fire crackling energy erupt through your from with each suck and lick of Johnny’s tongue against your pussy, working you through your high like the diligent man he is.

“Fuck- please- need to be full-” even in your orgasmic haze, you have your priorities, and right now, the only thing on your mind is Johnny’s delicious cock being inside your pussy, the one hole that can truly take him the way he deserves- “Need your cock so bad-”

Johnny’s hands shift to your ass, and he squeezes you gently, giving one last harsh suck on your clit that has you crying out before he pushes you off his mouth. “If you need my dick so bad, you should sit on it next.”

“What?” You’d been expecting him to fuck you- not the other way around.

“Oh so you can ride Mingyu and Yunho but not me?” Johnny laughs, his breath teasing your wet pussy and making you twitch as you clamor off of him.

“I-” you swallow thickly, adjusting so you can straddle Johnny, who sits up against the pillows, grinning while you stumble over your words. “I just-”

“You want Daddy to do all the work, huh?” he teases.

“Maybe-” you admit, feeling almost bashful as you reach between your bodies to grab his cock, lining it up with your pussy-

“Well, baby-” Johnny’s hands find your hips, and he steadies you as you begin to sink down on him, pussy swallowing him up inch by inch- “I guess you’re just going to have to wait.”

It’s as if a handful of your fuck buddies came to an agreement to make you wait for things, and you’re not happy about it.

But honestly- as you take more and more of Johnny- you start to not care so much. It’s not like you’re going to be able to ride him for very long- you’re already gasping and you’ve hardly even moved yet.

This position hits deep- you suppose that’s one reason a few idols have liked having you on top recently. When you lean back, swiveling your hips, you can see the slight outline of his cock in your lower abdomen and it has you going feral-

“Fuck- look at you, baby,” Johnny groans, watching your every movement. “How’d you ever get so perfect?”

“Shit, daddy, you’re so deep-” you whine, leaning forward again to grab at his shoulders, an anchor for when you begin to bounce-

“And you’re taking me so well-” the man under you breathes, hands settling on your hips to help you with your movements. “So well, baby- so perfect-”

“Fuck, John-”

A gentle smack to your ass has you crying out and he smiles up at you. “Am I really John again?”

“Uh huh-” you nod, heart and pussy clenching tight, “missed you.”

Johnny sits up better against the pillows, and then he’s grabbing at you, cupping your face with one hand to draw your lips to his own.

“I missed you too,” he says, kissing you deeply and making your mind go blank as you roll your hips.

It’s as easy as anything to get lost in John- but you suppose it’s always been this way.

There’s just something about the two of you that works, you can’t really explain it.

Maybe it has to do with his brilliant non verbal communication - large hands guiding you to fuck him faster and harder - or maybe it’s just his perfect, gorgeous lips, the lips you could kiss for hours and not get bored-

“Fuck, you feel so good, princess-” Johnny groans, digging his fingers into your hips. “Missed this.”

“John?” you whimper when he shifts his hips, thrusting up to meet you.

“Yes, darling?” he asks, leaning in to press his lips against your throat while you bounce on his cock.

“My thighs-”

His hands find the body part in question, and he massages the sore muscles. “Your thighs?” He grins against your neck.

“Please-” You know he’s just playing with you- it must be clear to him by now that you’re starting to get tired, and it’s harder to focus on his massive cock splitting you open when your thighs are burning from effort.

“You ready to be fucked properly now?” Johnny smiles up at you, as coy and confident as ever.

“Yes, please-”

“Ready to be fucked the way only I can fuck you?”

You’re suddenly reminded of what he’d said to you all those months ago when you first started your cam girl journey; “Fuck whoever you want,” he’d told you, “but no one is ever going to fuck you the way I can.”

“Yes, daddy” is the only answer that truly suffices as your body tingles with intense energy- Johnny has always been your rock, and he always will be.

You love how easy it is for him to wrap an arm against the small of your back and flip you, pinning you to the bed and pressing his hips flush to your own. A moan is torn out of you as you grab at his shoulders, eager for his lips.

Each kiss is like magic, and he takes a test thrust that has your toes curling.

“Mmm-” you whimper against his mouth, and Johnny breaks the kiss to press his hot lips against your throat, sucking on your sweet spot and making another rush of wet flood to your core. “Johnny- feels so good-”

“You feel so good,” he retorts, pressing his hips against yours so you can feel him feeper, the head of his cock hitting the spot that makes you want to scream.

“Shit- right there,” you tell him, digging your nails into his strong shoulders, your eyes closing as you allow the feeling to engulf your whole being.

“Here?” He thrusts into you harder, hitting the spot again and making you cry out. “How could I forget this spot?” Johnny grins, pulling away from your throat to look down at your pleasure controrted face. “It’s going to make you cum, right? You’ll be a good girl for me and cum again?”

“Fuck, yes John- shit, I want you to cum too-”

“Not yet baby, not yet,” he assures you in a voice that’s much too controlled. “I’ve been thinking about you for months- I don’t want to cum until I’m sure you’re satisfied-”

“I’m satisfied-” you try to tell him, but Johnny simply laughs at you.

“Haven’t even made you squirt yet, baby- just give in to the feeling right now, and let me do the rest, yeah?”

“Fuck-” you’re clawing at his skin, his cock repeatedly teasing the spot deep in your core- “John-”

“Come on baby, I want you to cum for me,” he whispers, pressing a soft kiss to your lips, his nose brushing by your own in the most domestic way- “I can feel you squeezing- you feel like heaven, princess- just let go, I know you want to, let me take care of you.”

“I’m so close-” you can feel your stomach muscles twisting in tighter and tighter knots, and you’re teetering on the edge-

“Here,” Johnny licks two of his fingers before slipping his hand between your bodies, and you cry out when he makes contact with your clit. “Those are the sounds I like-”

“Fuck, daddy-” you’re gasping now, body alight with electric energy-

The chord in your abdomen snaps, your orgasm slamming into you full force, and Johnny presses his lips to your own, muffling the noises of pleasure that threaten to fill the room and bug your neigbours-

“That’s it, baby, that’s my good girl-” Johnny coos, fucking you through your high, his fingers unrelenting on your clit even as you wiggle bellow him, helplessly pinned by his weight.

“Johnny-” you whimper his name loudly than you’d intended, and he grins down at you.

“There you go, princess, let your whole apartment building know who’s fucking you-”

At this point, you can hardly bring yourself to care about noise complaints, and you allow your sounds of pleasure to fill the room while Johnny takes care of you, working you through your high as expertly as ever.

As your sounds slowly come to an end, Johnny’s thrusts slow down, and you cling to him, wrapping your legs tighter around his waist. “John-”

“Can I flip you onto your stomach baby?” he asks, lips ghosting over your cheekbone. “I’ve been missing your ass like you wouldn’t believe.”

“Really?” Your stomach flutters with pleasure from the praise.

“Uh huh,” Johnny nods, removing his fingers from your clit. “No doggy, just going to have you laying flat-”

“Fuck-” you groan. Images of all the times he’s done the ‘on your stomach legs closed position’ flash through your mind’s eye, and your pussy twitches at the memories-

“Yeah- it’s nice and deep, that’s what you want, right?” Johnny asks. “Want Daddy nice and deep when he cums and fills you up-”

You’re nearly crying already- you want it so badly. “Yes, daddy-”

“Come on angel, let’s flip you over-” He’s so caring, so calm and precise with you. You’ve missed his large hands, missed the way they so easily move you from one position to the next-

The next moment he’s pulled out of you and you’re on your stomach, resting your face against the pillows as Johnny shifts on the bed behind you.

You press your thighs together, arching your back and lifting your hips ever so slightly to expose your pussy to him-

“Fuck, you have no idea how pretty you look-” he groans, large hands grabbing at your ass to pull your cheeks apart, revealing more of you to his eager eyes. “How could I have you in this perfect position without-” two fingers slip into your wet heat and you cry out from the unexpected intrusion, “making you squirt a little first?”

His digits begin to move against your wet walls, curling down to find your gspot- a squelching noise makes your skin tingle, and you realize how wet you really are-

But he intends to have you wetter, and you know Johnny’s preference for ‘slip and slide pussy’- it’s one of the way’s he makes sure you’re having a good time even when preparing to take his massive cock deep inside of you-

“You know,” he sighs as his fingers pump into you, “I was a little worried that- since it’s been so long since I fucked you properly, maybe it would be harder to make you cum, but-” he applies more pressure to your gspot and you’re crying out, pussy clenching ridiculously tight around his digits, “you’re squirting just as easily as I remember.”

“Fuck, daddy!” you cry out at the unrelenting speed and force of his fingers, and you can feel a rush of new wetness between your thighs with each pump-

Your bed is going to be ruined after this, and you should have remembered to put a towel down - this is Johnny after all - but it’s another worry that soon slips from your mind as you give yourself in to the pleasure he’s providing.

“It’s cute that you can hardly speak,” Johnny says, and you can hear him smiling. “I think you’re just about ready for me.”

The pleasure he gives feels amazing, but there’s only so much you body can take, and while his fingers are large- you’re already starting to miss his cock-

“Please-” you whimper, feeling a hot, wet, tear slip down your cheek-

“Hmm?”

“I said, please!” you repeat, pushing your hips back and wiggling your bum at him even as his digits continue in your core-

“That’s my girl.” He removes his hand from between your legs and you let out a sound of relief, only to brace yourself for the intrusion that will come next. “Just relax,” he tells you, voice soft as he presses his palm to your lower back, anchoring himself while he guides his cock to your wet hole.

“Johnny-” you whine his name as he pushes into you. Despite having taken him already, your core is still recovering from being made to squirt, so now, his cock feels even bigger, and you’re not sure what to make of it.

“Fuck, you’re so tight, baby,” he leans over your back, pressing soft kisses to your shoulder blades, “I told you to relax.”

You let out a groan as he pushes in deeper, shaking your head, “Can’t- you’re too big-”

“Too big?” Johnny laughs. “You know, I thought with the recent cam shows that you’d been taken care of, but if you’re already clawing at me over this- maybe I misjudged the situation.”

He’s using big words, and you can hardly think coherently right now. The most you can do is moan, pussy twitching around his long cock as he sheiths himself into you, hips now flush with your ass.

“You can take it, right, baby?” he asks, lips returning to your shoulder and then the nape of your neck-

“Yeah- please-” one thrust has you stuttering, grabbing at the pillows in an effort to anchor yourself-

You’ve missed this position- missed it more than you’d ever realized.

You’re not sure if it’s the angle, or if it’s simply because it’s Johnny fucking you like this, but either way, it feels delicious.

You can feel the beautiful vein that runs along the underside of his massive cock with each thrust, and it has you going feral.

A large portion of his weight is pressed to your lower back, keeping you pinned to the bed- it’s almost a little suffocating, but that only adds to your pleasure.

“Shit, I could do this forever-” Johnny groans behind you. “Could fuck this pussy till I die-”

“John-”

“You’d let me right?” Hot lips graze by the junction between your neck and shoulder, and a tingle of pleasure skitters from the spot he’d kissed. “You’ll let me keep fucking you- let me keep making you cum, over and over-”

“God, yes-” you push your ass back to meet his thrusts, “Please-”

“Please what? Use your words, pretty girl, if you have any left.”

“Need your cum-” you whimper, “need you to cum with me-”

“Yeah? Is my good little cock whore already close?”

You nod desperately against the pillows.

“Is this position that good for you?” he taunts, fucking into you harder.

“Yes, shit- please, John, I can feel you everywhere-”

“Everywhere?”

“So deep-” you confirm, biting into your bottom lip to muffle some of the moans that threaten to be torn out of you with each rough motion of Johnny’s hips smacking against your ass- “Please, John-”

“I like it when you say my name like that-” he groans, fingers digging into your hips, breath hot against your shoulders.

“John-” you moan louder, “John, John, John!”

“I’m almost there- almost there, sweetheart-”

You’ve missed the sounds he makes when he’s close, and your pussy flutters around his cock, so near to the edge that you think you might die if he doesn’t let you cum-

“Please, John,” you beg, “please cum with me- fill me up till I’m your stupid little cock drunk baby-”

“You’re already my stupid little cock drunk baby, angel,” Johnny chuckles, but the laughter turns into another sound of pleasure. “Fuck- okay, let go- let go for me angel, I wanna feel you-”

That’s all you need to let yourself release the tension in your core, and your pussy clamps down on his cock while you squeal into the pillow, muffling the loud sound that matches the pleasure coursing through you.

Johnny lets out an equally noisy groan, and his rhythm falters slightly-

“Fuck-”

You can feel him coating your inner core with his cum, can feel yourself becoming incredibly full as he struggles to keep rutting into your tight pussy, your walls milking him for all he’s worth-

You gasp at the feeling of being completely satisfied, burying your face in the pillow as Johnny rides you through your highs.

“You feel so good-” he groans, rhythm slowing as the both of you begin to come down from the pleasure.

“No, you.”

Johnny laughs at your fucked out, easy submissive retort, and a moment later his hips are stilling all together, his cock burried deep inside of you as he presses his chest down against your back.

He’s hot, both of you are, but there’s comfort in the pressure of his large body covering your own- he’s something like a safety blanket, and you could truly doze off at any second-

“Hey, don’t go falling asleep on me, baby.” His lips brush by your throat and a shiver of stimulation runs through you, making you grin.

“I’m tired,” you insist.

He continues pressing soft kisses to your skin. “Don’t you want to hear what I was going to tell you when I got here?”

“Oh right-”

“Can you flip over for me though? I want to see your face.”

“Johnny-”

“Please?” He nuzzles your ear with his nose, and it tickles you, forcing you to laugh and shrink away.

“Fine- but as soon as you pull out of me, and I flip over, your cum is going to start dripping out of me-”

“Should we do this in the shower then?” Johnny chuckles.

It is something of a post sex ritual for you. You’ve found that showering with a sexual partner can be the perfect aftercare, and it doubles as clean up.

“A shower sounds good,” you agree.

With one last kiss to the nape of your neck, Johnny pulls out of you, and you stifle a whimper at the loss.

The next moment, you feel his cum begin to dribble out of you, and you groan at the way Johnny always fills you up to the brim. Without even thinking twice, you slip your hand between your legs, plugging your pussy with two fingers.

You roll onto your back, and Johnny is quick to scoop you up in his arms. He’s chuckling, and it makes your skin heat with embarrassment. “Hey,” you reprimand him, “don’t laugh at me!”

“I’m not laughing at you,” he promises.

“Yes you are!”

“I’m not,” he says again, still grinning. “I’m just thinking- that I could get used to this.”

He sets you down in your shower and you look up at him with a cocked brow. “Wow Suh, I didn’t realize how much you missed me while on tour-”

“Hey-” now it’s his turn to reprimand you, but most scolding that comes from Johnny includes a note of playfulness. “I’m being serious.”

“Really?”

Instead of answering, you watch him quickly reach past you, turning on the shower. The spray hits by your feet, and you shiver from the cold temperature, skittering further away from it.

“Johnny-” you groan, seeing right through his feeble attempt to derail the conversation.

“What?” He grins at you.

“You’re being weird today- something’s off with you and I know it. Wish you’d just say what you want to say.” If he keeps tiptoeing around the thing that’s on his mind, you might just put your dress back on and go to the party where his members will actually talk to you.

“Right-” Johnny tests the water, stepping into the shower to join you. His hands find your hips and he pulls you close. “I guess- I’m just nervous.”

“You? Nervous? Okay mister stripper-”

He grabs your chin, forcing you to look up at him. “Sometimes you make it hard to be serious with you, do you know that?”

“Me? How?!” You insist, feeling personally attacked.

“Don’t call me Mister Stripper when less than ten minutes ago you were calling me Daddy, okay?”

“Okay, daddy.”

His gaze shifts down to your lips, and he releases your chin. “Now give me a kiss for goodluck.”

“Okay, daddy,” you say again, grinning as you lean up to press your mouth to his.

His arms wrap around your body, pulling you to join him under the spray of warm water.

It feels good to be doing this with him, but the heated kiss only lasts a few moments before he’s pulling away from you. He shifts so his back is blocking the water from you again, and you cling tighter to his warm body, pouting up at him-

“Maybe the shower isn’t the best place for what I’m about to say if you’re pouting at me over water hogging.”

“Oh my god,” you groan, “just tell me what the issue is or I might start to think you’re in love with me or something.”

His eyes search your own, and when he doesn’t immediately open his mouth to contradict you, something tells you that you’ve hit the nail on the head.

“Wait, Johnny-”

You can’t finish your sentence because a second later his hands cup your face and his lips press to yours. You can taste something like desperation on his tongue-

“John-” you whisper again.

“Just let me kiss you,” he insists, and you almost want to laugh. This is what he’d said when he came into your apartment too-

Is he really this afraid of your reaction?

You’ve never known Johnny as the kind of guy to lack confidence- and it’s almost cute that he’s worried about this.

“John-” You press your hands to his stomach, and he moves away like he always does the moment you give any push back.

His eyes hold the same desperation that his kiss had, and they’re sad, as sad as you’ve ever seen them-

“God,” you can’t help but laugh a little, “stop looking so worried!” you take a breath and feel your expression soften, “I love you too, you big dummy-”

“You do?” His lips part in shock.

“Of course- I mean- how could I not?!”

“Why didn’t you ever tell me?”

“Why didn’t you ever tell me?!” you fire back.

“Well- I mean-” he rubs the back of his neck, “when you said you were picking up cam girling again after a hiatus-”

“I needed to be fucked and you were on tour! For ages! Besides, why did I get into cam girling in the first place, you big buffoon?” Part of you wants to laugh, and part of you wants to cry- “How long- how long have you-”

“A while,” he admits, swallowing thickly. “Sometimes I think about what would have happened if I’d never suggested the cam stuff- if I’d just manned up and offered to be your sugar daddy or something-”

“John-” you groan, hiding your face in your hands at all this new information. You’re in shock- and after a breath, you look up at him again. “How does a guy that loves a girl suggest for her to camgirl and fuck all his friends?”

“Well you see…” he licks his lips, “I’m not the jealous type?”

“You’re not the jealous type, oh my god-”

“I mean, to be fair-” Johnny reaches for your hand, “you have so many idols wrapped around your finger that- maybe I thought it would be presumptuous to think I might stand a chance-”

“Johnny, that’s where you have it all wrong,” you say firmly, looking up at him with a stubborn set to your mouth, “no one ever stood a chance to you.”

“Really?”

“Not one person,” you confirm.

“I mean, you and Jinyoung were pretty close-”

“But he could see we were closer- he must have seen it- and he’s not the only one, John. Jaehyun’s asked me about us before, and Seungcheol seemed to know something about us last week-” you shake your head, still in disbelief. “I always thought maybe this was one sided-”

“Because of the whole thing about me suggesting you become a cam girl?”

“Yes!”

“Well- I’m sorry.” When you look at him you can see that he’s being genuine. “I’m sorry that I gave you mixed signals.”

“And that now I’ve fucked a few of your friends and things are way more complicated-” you add.

“They don’t have to be that complicated,” Johnny insists.

You narrow your eyes at him. “Are you sure about that?”

“Okay, John Cena-” your lover jokes. “I guess maybe things are a little messy-”

“A little?”

Johnny just looks at you for a moment, and then he smiles. “I love you.”

“And I love you, but-”

He kisses you before you can speak more, and for the third time today, you find yourself wanting to melt into the kiss even while your mind rages with unanswered questions.

However, unlike the last two times, this time, you allow yourself to give up control. You give in to his tongue as it swipes across your lower lip, and when his hands slip down to your ass, you let him lift you up, legs wrapping around his waist-

“I love you,” Johnny says against your lips, harder this time.

“I love you too-”

“Do we really have to talk about all this-” he asks, showing you that he’s aware he’d cut you off with a kiss, “or can I just fuck you now?”

You laugh, shaking your head a little. “You can ‘just fuck me now’- but you better keep telling me you love me-”

“I was planning on it.”

“Good!”

“Good,” he echos, mouth moving to your neck while he adjusts his hand to slip it between your bodies, grasping his cock to line it up with your entrance-

“Fuck, Suh, I love you so much that some days it’s made me want to scream-”

“Well, you can scream now if you want,” he smiles against your throat, “in fact-” he begins to push into you, “I’d really like to hear you scream for me tonight.”

“You’re-” you whimper as he fills your core in the most perfect way, “you’re insatiable-”

“I’ve got time to make up for,” he says simply.

There’s no way to fully describe the surge of emotion that runs through your body, it’s something like shock, awe, wonder, elatedness-

You can’t believe you’re here- can’t believe that the forbidden feeling you’ve been trying to ignore for over a year has been reciprocated-

“Johnny?”

“Yes, my love?”

You shiver at the new petname, heart warming in your chest. “I just wanted to say I love you.”

“I love you too, my perfect little cam baby, I love you too.”

☀️ mlist + an. thank you for reading! This series has meant so much to me- a number of people wanted to give Jaehyun an ending, as he was very angsty for cam baby, so I've given an optional bonus below that ties up Jae's storyline and gives a little more cam baby closure :)

🍭 support me by. sending a tip here or here - or become a patron to access monthly bonus content and extensions for fics like this one :) find the Patreon teaser below!

🔮 preview. “It would be a one-time thing,” Johnny says, with a dismissive wave of his hand, “but- I know you were missing her while we were on tour too, and you guys have always been long-term friends-” By ‘long term friends’ Jaehyun knows Johnny means ‘fuck buddies,’ and he reaches down to pinch his own arm, making sure he’s not dreaming.

cw/ tw. threesome, dry humping, spitroasting, oral, protected sex, quickie, praise, dumbification, overstim, etc...

👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 4k I teaser wc. 200

🌙 staring. Jaehyun & Johnny x afab!Reader

It’s been over a month since you and Johnny made your relationship official, and Jaehyun still can’t get used to seeing you two be so overtly loving with each other. Sure, he’d always had suspicions that you and Johnny’s affections ran deeper than you’d let on, but suspecting it and seeing it are different things.

He hadn’t realized seeing it would hurt this much. Hadn’t realized how deep his own feelings for you had grown- how used to you he’d become.

And he’s not the only one. Haechan had thrown a royal fit when you’d skipped their ‘back from tour’ party, and Jaehyun is glad neither you nor Johnny had been around to see it.

“Maybe she’ll still want to fuck though-” Haechan had insisted, 4 bottles deep into his Soju, “Johnny’s not a jealous guy-”

At the time, Jaehyun had scoffed, rolling his eyes as Mark rubbed his best friend’s back and tried to be sympathetic, but now, as Jaehyun watches you and Johnny putter around the dorm, he starts to have the same hopes that Hyuck had.

☀️to read the full 4k bonus, subscribe to my Patreon - then - click here

👹 or check out what else is on my patreon here

🔮if nothing strikes your fancy, check out my m.list

general taglist:

@gotshinct - @subhyuck - @fraechan - @learnthisfeeling

@runahways - @d-abin - @milkteade - @woogyuhae

@anothershorthuman - @nihxxy - @vantxx95 - @bangshii

@poutypoutybin - @notbeforelong - @creepybakeoven

@ninetechculture - @yungiland - @suhsfam - @binchangf

@chogiwapadada - @librarian-stacks - @meowniee

@learnthisfeeling - @gigilame - @cumtrov3rsy

@mocha000 - @darthlunaa - @just-here-to-read-01 - @shiningnono

@lovelyhan

nct taglist

@milkyway-vxm - @nctsawrus - @shiningdery - @freezerandfame

@fairieblog - @fairybr3ad - @peachyjaemin - @chemaistry

@sehunniepot

interact with those who've cum before

› [nct] NiceGuyJohnny - online

› [got7] PubGMarkT - online

› [got7] beommie - online

› [wayv] Lucas99 & Hendery99 - online

› [got7] TheJinyoung - online

› [bts] TaeTae - online

› [nct] ValentineJae97 - online

› [nct] HeyChannie - online

› [multi] TheJinyoung & NiceGuyJohnny - online

› hiatus…

› [nct] Private Room - online

› [svt] GyuGyu97 & Hannie - online

› [atz] Yunhoe - online

› [svt] CherryCheolie - online

› [nct] NiceGuyJohnny - now in server

#johnny suh #johnny suh smut #nct #nct smut #nct 127 #nct 127 smut #cam baby #johnny nct #nct johnny #johnny nct smut #nct johnny smut #nct u #nct u smut

1K notes · View notes

bowandbrush · 7 months

Text

things I liked about the episode “Bad hair day”

Leo just wanting a day to relax and take a break from being comic relief. Me too man

And his little outfit is just ashahsgsbbsvavgh

The fact that he wears more clothes is just hilarious to me. Like

The Octopus man is literally an Elton John reference

The “I’m still learning special” made me bust out laughing on first and every rewatch

The name “last resort” is genius

And him laying in the sun is such an (unintentional) turtle thing. Soaking in rays and absorbing warmth just reflects the fact that he’s a turtle. Little man.

I had to add this picture of Raph doing the same I mean LOOK AT HIM ^v^

also WHY DOES LEO LOOK SO GOOD WITH HAIR?!? LIKE ?!? HELLO?!?

Silly boy <3

he just consumes chocolate off of his feet like nobody’s problem.

I can relate when watching the hair start to strangle him. Personally I have very long and thick hair and it deserves its own zip code. My hair will get into my food, my mouth, eyes, and rip regular rubber bands. I have to tie my hair down so it doesn’t strangle me

^that’s me

Also. When I was watching this ep for the first time and watched him say

“Looks like this tortoise…beat the hair”

I started to laugh and wheeze so hard that I had to lean onto my dresser for support. I started coughing and choking and crying and rolling on the floor pounding my first into the floor and my sister thought I was dying. Maybe it’s just me being hysterical but in my opinion that joke was THE BEST JOKE In the entire show.

there are probably some other things I missed or forgot but that was it for the most part. Seriously, I love this show, I could gush on about it forever. You hear that, Nickelodeon? Where are all the SpongeBob fanfics and fan comics and AU’s and AMV’s, huh? Wait, THERE IS’NT ANY. Just Rerun old SpongeBob episodes and bring back what the CROWD DEMANDS. Because we all have our pitchforks in hand

If I don’t get rise back I will disintegrate

#Rottmnt #rottmnt leo #rottmnt analysis #save rottmnt #unpaise rottmnt #Rise of tmnt

261 notes · View notes

ananxiousgenz · 3 months

Text

pssst. pssssssst. hey guys. look at what i got y'all (IT'S MORE JARTHUR COWBOY AU)

this one comes with several pieces of info you need to know first:

@percymawce-arts and I are writing this fic together!!! we have entered into writers matrimony for this fic and we are super excited about it!! I wrote the bare bones of the scene you're about to read and he added almost all of the flavor and spice (while i was laying on my bed in the family guy dead pose bc of how good he made it). make sure to go show percy some love for this too!!

this scene takes place after one where john and arthur chase after larson, but arthur refuses to shoot him, and john is more than a little pissed off about it.

and some trigger warnings: this scene contains some fighting (both verbal and physical), child abuse, religious trauma, homophobia, and some suggestive themes

and finally, i will tag @ellamenop and @izel-reblogs bc i have a feeling you will both enjoy this :)

“What,” John snarled, slamming the cabin door shut behind him, “the fuck. What was that?!”

“None of your business,” Arthur replied, ever so prim and fucking proper. He kept his back to John, maybe to hide his face, so John couldn’t read him. Maybe because he was too much of a coward to meet John’s eyes after that stunt. John didn’t care what the reason was. It was only pissing him off more.

“No. Fuck that. It's all my business.”

“I didn't fire a gun. How is that making you upset?”

“You had him right in front of you,” John rumbled, his voice as low and dangerous as thunder on the horizon. Arthur shivered. “And you let him go. You had the opportunity to kill him. To end this, all of this. And you let it slip through your fucking fingers.”

“Maybe I didn't want to kill him.”

“What the fuck does that matter? He's too goddamn dangerous to be left alive!”

“It's not that simple, John-”

“The hell it is! I’m sorry you feel conflicted or whatever it is that’s going on in that head of yours, but this isn’t about you! All you had to do was fire the fucking gun. He was right in front of you, and you didn't shoot!”

“No, I didn't!”

“Why?!”

“You want to know why?” Arthur shouted, whipping around to face John, at last. “Because I can't kill another person! Even someone as awful as Larson! I’m not like you! This isn’t easy for me, alright?!”

As soon as the words had left his mouth, Arthur’s face fell. John could see the regret wash over his face like a cloud over the burning sun, but it only lasted a moment before he was collecting himself. Putting on that same mask of polite-until-you-fuck-with-me he always wore around suspects and targets. John had never had that face turned on him before. He hated it.

“So that’s what this is about,” John murmured, his tone dark. “You think it’s easy… You think I’m a monster, and you’d rather let Larson go free than be like me.”

“No, John, that’s not-”

“Who do you think made me that way?” John snapped. Arthur’s mouth closed so fast John heard his teeth click. “It was him, Arthur. It was Larson. And thanks to you, he’s going to go and do it to another lonely, scared Native kid with nowhere else to go!” John chuckled humorlessly. “Christ, Arthur, If that’s what you thought of me, why didn’t you just say it at the start?”

Arthur threw up his hands in frustration. “That’s not what I think of you, John. Jesus, am I not allowed to have a minor moral crisis over shooting a man?!”

“He’s not just a man! He’s a gangster! A robber! A killer! You told me so yourself!”

“So are you, John.”

“Yeah, and you shot me for it,” John reminded him.

Arthur growled and slammed his fist down on the mantle of the fireplace beside them, hard enough that John could feel the vibration travel through the floor. “Jesus fucking Christ, John, I wanted to let the law deal with him! Is that so hard to understand?!”

John took a step in Arthur’s direction. “Oh yeah? The same law that ripped me away from my family and home? The same law that turned me into a monster? Too little and too much for everyone all at the same time? The same law that drove human beings off of their lands and into reservations? That killed thousands of people like me?”

“The criminal law would have placed Larson in jail. Like he deserved.”

John scoffed and crossed his arms. “You think the law cares that he deserves it, Arthur? The law is punishment for those who don’t deserve it and ignorance for those who do. There’s no justice in it.”

“What, so that means it’s your job to deal it out?”

“Yes!” John yelled. “If it means he can’t hurt anyone any longer, then yes. And vigilante justice works a hell of a lot faster than the court system will ever manage!”

“I thought you were trying to be a better man, John.”

“I was trying to be like you,” John said venomously. “My mistake.”

That was the final straw. Arthur took a step forward without warning and swung his fist as hard as he could. It made contact with John’s ribs (he could feel them shift beneath Arthur’s fist), and John made a soft oof sound as the wind was knocked out of his lungs and he was knocked into the fireplace mantle, the corner of it digging into his shoulder.

The fight that followed was chaotic and messy in a way John had never experienced before, and when he tried to think back to it, it would only be preserved in blurry snapshots, like someone moving in the middle of a photograph. Arthur grabbed John’s braid and pulled. John clawed a deep gouge into his arm. He drew blood. Arthur twisted John’s arm. John cracked Arthur’s rib. Arthur knocked John’s legs out from under him, causing them both to go sprawling onto the floor. Arthur punched. John slapped. Arthur bit. John pinned. And then paused. And then…

In the midst of the fighting, John had ended up on top of Arthur, straddling his waist while pinning both wrists with one hand and grabbing a fistfull of Arthur’s shirt with the other. Both of them had frozen, the only movement the rapid rise and fall of their chests. Their noses were nearly touching, and John could feel Arthur’s breath fanning across his lips, staring into those dark, dark eyes. They weren’t so dark, John realized as he looked into them. They were brown, lovely and warm, with scattered flecks of gold and green nestled deep inside. Hidden gems, wide and wild with adrenaline, flicking back and forth across John’s face without any point of focus.

John’s eyes flicked over the rest of Arthur’s face. Freckles smattered across his nose and cheekbones. Loose strands of auburn hair falling messily across his forehead. The crooked corners of his nose from being broken one too many times. Smile lines beside his tired eyes. Lips like flower petals, soft and pale. Slightly parted and inhaling, exhaling. At some point, John realized he had let go of Arthur’s shirt and was cradling Arthur’s face oh-so gently as he examined it, dragging his thumb lightly over his cheekbone, caressing it. Down the bridge of his nose to his lips, his perfect lips. Arthur remained as still as stone, barely even breathing as he stared blindly back at John.

Somewhere behind the haze of the moment, John wondered subconsciously what would happen if he kissed Arthur. Because, the truth, he realized, was that deep down, in the pit of his stomach, he wanted. He wanted Arthur, in a way he had never wanted anyone else before. He wanted to be close to him, close like this. Closer than this. To be around him always, to hold him, to kiss him.

What would happen if he took what he wanted instead of what he was told, for once?

He hesitated when he heard Arthur’s breath hitch.But then, when no resistance came, he leaned his head down ever so slightly (there was barely any bridge to gap, by that point), and then he was kissing Arthur. And it was like the world had been set ablaze.

As he pressed his lips against Arthur’s, every nerve in John’s body was alive. It felt like a jolt from a live wire, like a burst of fireworks that would light up the sky on the Fourth of July, like the sparking tang of gunpowder before the shot rang out. It felt like energy, pure and bright and hot and lighting him up from the inside. He felt Arthur’s body respond in kind, arching up to create a line of contact that started at their hands and continued all the way down to their tangled legs, making John shiver. He tasted like whiskey, sweet and sharp beneath the campfire smoke and aftershave, and John marveled at how such a strange and sinful combination could taste like it had just come down from heaven.

He kissed harder, chasing the taste. He nipped at Arthur’s lip hard enough to draw blood, adding a coppery tang to the kiss and eliciting a small moan from the back of Arthur’s throat. It only made John want more. He kissed him again, and again, and again, Arthur’s lips and tongue moving against his with a practiced skill that made John dizzy. He kissed him until his lips were swollen and his head was swimming with nothing but Arthur, Arthur, Arthur. He only pulled away when his chest was burning and there was no choice but to come up for air.

Arthur’s face was flushed, his eyes wide and twinkling. “Oh God.” His voice was hoarse. “Oh, Jesus fucking Christ, John.”

And an unbidden memory surfaced in John’s mind.

He was back in boarding school, sitting for a mandatory midnight mass in the chapel, his posture ramrod straight. The priests had always been so particular about those masses. There was to be no slouching or fidgeting, and God alone could help you if you dozed off. John had been kneeing in one of the pews, focusing all of his attention on keeping his posture perfect and his eyes open and remaining somewhat alert.

In the midst of silent prayer, one of the priests, a Father McKenna, had thrown open the doors to the chapel, and dragged another boy up before the altar by his ear.

The boy had tears streaming down his disheveled face and his nose was red from crying, but the thing that struck John the most about him were his eyes. He just looked so… tired. Not the kind of tired that John was fighting, the kind where a seductive sleep was lingering at the corners of his vision, waiting for him to blink or close his eyes in “prayer” for a second too long. This boy looked like the kind of tired that shot through his bones and grew like rot and rust with every passing day, the kind that only shuffling off this mortal coil a bit too soon could cure.

Father McKenna said the boy had been caught ‘with’ another, with a fury in his eyes that made John wonder in the back of his mind if he had been possessed by the devil. He’d been too young to know what it meant to be ‘with’ another boy at the time, but he knew it must be evil. Father McKenna threw him down in front of the altar, and the boy- John vaguely recognized him to be a child named Alexander- just knelt with his head bowed, like he had accepted his fate before Fate came to dole it out.

Father McKenna was not pleased by this. He smacked the back of Alexander’s head. Hard. He didn’t respond. He picked up a hymnal and smacked him harder still. And still, nothing.

The priest was trembling with barely concealed fury now, and there was a steady pit of dread opening up in John’s stomach as he began to eye the doors, the windows. Any potential escape from the devil and the punishment that awaited him.

But there was no escape, there never was. So John sat, quietly, and watched as Father McKenna began to beat Alexander.

It was horrible, but somehow John couldn’t tear his eyes away, not even as Alexander’s screams tore through his ears and began to echo off the vaulted ceilings, pleas to stop and promises to never do it again ringing in John’s mind. Not even as the boy’s blood began to stain Father McKenna’s hands and drip onto the marble stairs, as vivid and crimson as sacramental wine. Not even as two of the altar boys had to drag Alexander’s barely conscious, barely breathing body down the aisle and out to the hospital wing.

John was trembling by the end of it. He felt like he was going to throw up. He dreamed of that moment for weeks afterward, never able to sleep without witnessing another religious sacrifice, another crucifixion, another martyr behind his eyelids.

Suddenly back in the present– but not really, never fully out of the past– John scrambled back off of Arthur and pressed his back against a wall, wide-eyed and sweating in sudden, sickening fear. In another life he might have missed the feeling of Arthur beneath him, his waist between his thighs, his lips against his. But nothing could permeate that fear. Nothing would ever be bigger than the fear.

“Wha– John?” Arthur asked. There was fear in his eyes too, but it was different. It wasn’t fear of hell or Father McKenna or whatever had become of Alexander. It was fear for John. It was concern. John closed his eyes against it. “John, what’s wrong? What–,” “Shut up.”

“What?”

“Just, be quiet!” John snapped. “Please, please, just–,” his voice broke. He squeezed the bridge of his nose between his fingers, trying to stave off an oncoming headache.

“Okay…” Arthur said, quietly. Gently, so cruelly gentle. John could feel the beginnings of tears burning behind his eyes. He squeezed them shut tighter. “Okay.”

“This…” John started. He didn’t want to say it. He knew there would be no coming back from it. No more fireworks, no more whiskey on flower petal lips. Never again would he be so close to Arthur Lester if he said it. But that was the point wasn’t it? Make distance.

Take what he was told, never what he wanted.

“This was a mistake,” John said, firmly. A lie, of course. Inside, his very soul was shaking. The strings of his heart were trembling in a tragic vibrato, a song with no recipient. But he’d always been good at lying. He stood, tossing his braid over his shoulder and brushing the dust of his shirt (his wrinkled shirt, stained with a speck of Arthur’s blood). “It never happened.” He didn’t look at Arthur, because he was a coward. He was everything Arthur thought he was, so he didn’t look him in the eye when he said:

“If you ever so much as mention this, to anyone, I won’t hesitate, Arthur.”

He opened the door to the cabin, ready to step outside, leaving everything he’d never known he’d wanted behind.

“I’m not you.”

#malevolent #malevolent pod #malevolent podcast #jarthur #private eyes #malevolent cowboy au #malevolent fanfic #an eldritch being and his wet cat #tw child abuse #tw religious trauma #tw violence #tw fighting #tw homophobia #tw suggestive

104 notes · View notes

puppetwoman17 · 7 months

Text

A Happy House: Part 1

Headcanon that when there are any quarrels or fights between league members, they cool down at Billy’s apartment.

I see this happening in the future when Billy’s like, early to mid 20s. He’s finally settled to the point where he doesn’t always worry about becoming a homeless kid again. People in the League know him as understanding to a fault, and always willing to listen to both sides of the story. His apartment is homey, and there are always magical creatures or family walking around, like his sister, best friend, or uncle Dudley. Maybe a celestial or a god is visiting. Maybe the universe’s higher ups are having a meeting in his dining room. Whatever is happening, it calms everyone down.

Sometimes it’s Connor, coming in from another fight with Clark. Sometimes it’s a fellow Magic user who feels ostrisized because of their power. Other times, it’s a Batfamily member who wants Bruce off their tail, and Billy will gladly use a shield spell to give them privacy from Batman’s detective skills. Other times it’s members of the Team after arguing with the JL. Or the JL sorting out a quarrel amongst themselves with Billy’s careful judgement.

Billy doesn’t know why he’s such a calming presence to them. He’s known them since he was a child, yes, a kid who hadn’t even hit the double digits. But he tends to be blunt. Straight to the point. He makes sure to show he cares, but the feeling can feel foreign at times when the world keeps biting you in the ass. And he can get mad when people are so obliviously stupid it hurts. He’s seen and heard more than enough arguments between adults to know when they’re pulling bullshit or saying something that shouldn’t be said. It’s an art at this point.

But he’s mostly quiet when someone comes over, and when the other person is permitted to enter, he lets them hash the argument out themselves, offering nothing but privacy and a smile when they leave.

…So yeah, he’s confused. But he’s just happy to help.

And the JL, Team and Titans are grateful too. He’s their relationship wingman! The guy who you know to go to when things get heated. His home is an oasis of calm and care.

They can watch as the Batson siblings banter in the kitchen. They can watch Billy bring John Constantine in by the ear and rip him a new one. They can smile in amusement as Billy puts one over on his fellow higher ups in the magic community on a freakin ZOOM call!

He’s easy to be around. There’s no pressure from him, no questions needing answers. He’s also not biased(unless it’s more than obvious who’s in the wrong).

So yeah, the heroes love their not-so-little-anymore magic man.

They love him so much that they immediately clock onto when things go horribly, horribly wrong.

See, Billy doesn’t like to get angry. When he’s Cap, he’s afraid of the power he possesses. He gets nauseous when someone bows to him like he’s their boss or something(which you are Billy bean, you gotta deal with it). Even when he’s in his mortal form, he doesn’t go beyond a flood of curse words or a couple jabs built off stress.

But there are a few people who know what buttons to push, and they push them. A lot. So much so that he tends to get a little…loud.

Oh and did I mention he didn’t exactly TELL his coworkers that he had an uncle? Hell, that he did have a family, they just didn’t care enough to be with him?

Yeah, that’s not gonna lead to anything, I’m sure.

#billy batson #captain marvel #justice league #shazam #dc universe #young justice #batfamily #superboy #mary batson #freddy freeman #uncle Dudley #uncle Ebenezer #young adult Billy Batson #he’s their safe space

215 notes · View notes

princessbrunette · 8 months

Note

i'd just like to say a violent jayj threatening to rip someone's face off or anything of that sort would make me wet. thank u. - 🍓

⊹ . ⁺ 🍦🤍⋅˚₊𐙚

you knew the random ass kook at the beach bar was in trouble the second he’d started talking to you.

jj had stepped away for a moment, just a moment — to take a call from john b, always feeling the need to answer just incase the boy had gotten himself into another inescapable shenanigan that he needed jj to dig him out of. you were leaning your elbows against the bar under the warm outdoor lighting, skin balmy and glowy as you take your time reading the menu stapled to the counter top, wondering what cocktail you’d go for.

“you seem like a cosmo kind of girl.” the kook slides up beside you, blinding white teeth and a polo shirt — the kook side of the islands very own uniform. you chuckle politely, diverting your eyes back to the menu attempting to kindly show your disinterest.

“oh, maybe.” you shrug evasively — hoping he’d get the hint and wander off to bother someone else. he didn’t.

“wait no, let me guess. something stronger? on second glance you kind of strike me as a party girl.” the man grins and you have to hold back a sigh. you were always on the shyer side unlike your boyfriend, never having the nerve to tell people to cut it out or leave you alone the way he would. jj tried to teach you, put his hands on your shoulders, look you in the eyes and say ‘if anyone ever bothers you, you look ‘em in the face and tell them that your boyfriend stays strapped. alright?’ of course, that didn’t seem appropriate. or like a good idea in general.

“nope.” your lips press together with a smile that begged him to leave you be, head even swivelling around theatrically to look for jj who had wandered off to take the call somewhere more quiet, now nowhere to be seen.

“c’mon, you think i don’t know your type? you seem all cold now, but get a couple of drinks in you and you’re ready to go. here, lemme get it for you.” he pulls out his card and nudges right up next to you, a hand sliding over your lower back. you shudder, pulling away— trying hard to be stern despite your shyness.

“really, i’m okay.” you frown, heart thundering when his expression drops, irritation reaching his eyes. he goes to speak, but a familiar voice immediately spawns from behind you.

“yeah i think she said she was okay, so you can walk away now.” jj shrugs, giving this guy a chance. the kooks eyes, narrow in on the blonde and scoffs, unimpressed.

“and who the hell are you? her knight in shining armor?” he glares, the malicious grin on jj’s face not faltering. from knowing jj, you knew this grin in itself was a threat. the calm before the storm. you brace for the chaos, moving back behind your boyfriend.

“try boyfriend, and i’m actually doin’ you a solid here brother. i really suggest you just walk away, right now.”

“or what?” the kook challenges, and jj’s venomous grin melted into merely having his teeth grit, bared like a dog as his patience runs thin.

“or i’ll rip your fuckin’ face off for talking to my girl. walk,” he shoves him back by the chest. “away, dude.” and once again, the man stumbling a little as a few eyes draw to the scene. locking stares with the security guard, the kook decides it’s better off he doesn’t get his ass beat, or get kicked out of the beach bar — so he trips over, walking away.

“you’re a psycho, pogue.” he accuses as he disappears and jj shakes himself off, blowing out an exhale as he turns back to you, fixing his hat.

“thats what i thought.” he rolls his shoulders before attending to you. “hey, i— i know you wanted just a chill night. i probably shouldn’t have caused a scene, just didn’t want him disrespecting my girl, you know?” his face falls, misreading the dazed expression on your face.

you glance around, looking for any remaining eyes on you and you move closer, whispering to him pathetically.

“i’m wet.” it comes out so quiet, he thinks he’s making it up.

“you’re — what now?” his head bobs forward in disbelief, eyes wide.

“i’m wet, jayj. take me home?” you mewl and he blinks a couple of times.

“from… that? me like… defending your honour n’shit?”

“yeah.” you giggle and a slow grin fades onto his once angry expression.

“oh you’re crazy. you’re my kind of crazy though — let’s go.” he grabs your hand, leading you briskly away.

⊹ . ⁺ 🍦🤍⋅˚₊𐙚

#🍓 anon #jj maybank prompt

298 notes · View notes

gildedkrone · 1 year

Text

You said I was the most exotic flower, holding me tight in our final hour 🔞

Relationships: John Price x Male Reader Synopsis: You blow John's mind through his dick. A/N: First post on Tumblr! You can find longer works on my AO3 Master List

"You feel so good for me, love."

His voice is an arrow ripping through the seas of pleasure in gleaming gold. The beard digging into your nape and his arms around your abdomen, he has you in his grasp as relentless kisses and touches glides over your bare skin. His bed is soft and large, very much befitting his rank of the captain of an elite task force.

"Stop teasing, John." It comes out more as a breathy whine and you are rewarded with a deep chuckle.

"You can take a bit of teasing, sergeant." His voice is all rumbly and deeper, all in the mood.

His hand hasn't moved in a while as thick fingers wrapped around your aching dick, the owner of which satisfied in attacking you with chaste licks and bites. The pleasure building in your core, directed by his talented and skilled hands, remained wholly unsatisfying. He chuckles at your attempts to buck into him in search of that sweet, sweet pleasure.

"Such a handful, love. Maybe I should put you on extra training next week. Have you, mhm, running laps and bloody hell—"

You won't lie, hearing his voice hitch and stutter when his dick rides into your ass gives you the thrills. It's probably red and straining and you don't need a look to know. It fits perfectly and the heat emanating from it washes over your ass in waves. You tease him a little more and lean back until his chest is against your back, knowing just how much he gets off on you being in control. He showers you with more praise and kisses.

The captain being commanded by the sergeant. Very much frowned upon in the military but John lets you know that he loves it when you are assertive.

"John, if you don't fuck me, I'm going to ask Ghost and—" Hands slapped around your mouth and muffled the rest of the sentence as a deep rumble vibrated by your neck.

"You ask him and I will make sure you won't walk straight for the next month, sweetheart."

"Is that a challenge?"

The sensation of wetness, his pre, followed by his warm dick was ever so indulgent while his hands roam your body. One of them flicks a nipple and you arch backwards into him with broken moans and subdued cries of his name. He loves this as much as you do, being the commander of your pleasure and taking full control of your pleasure.

Its his and John won't ever let anyone have a taste of this.

"Brat. Do you want to be gagged? My pretty boy, all needy and whiny during a mission?"

Oh. That, that was fucking hot and you shiver at the thought of riding his dick in the middle of an operation. Maybe in a ghillie suit and in a bush somewhere. They can see and watch, but they will never be able to taste or touch. You turn your head to look at him, barely, as more kisses assault your cheeks. The hand on your aching dick moves to your thighs and gently caresses the area there.

Ever the gentleman, making sure his partner felt just as good as he did.

"Use your words, sweetheart."

You tell him just how much you want it and he laughs again. Hands gently tug at your sides and you flip over to face him at the unspoken command. Pleasure is engrained in his eyes in golden filigrees of lust branching into something fierce and he rumbles approvingly. He shifts back on the bed and leans against the pillows and headrest while a hand comes to rest near his groin.

Suck it.

You put on a show for him. His dancer of the night, bringing him sweet and initimate sin. You crawl towards him and a flare of lust erupts from his chest at the sight of his good boy prowling like a hunter seeking prey. When close enough, you touch his thighs gently and push them apart slightly to accomodate your body. He loves it when you look at him, it makes him feel divine, he once told you. You keep your eyes on him and lower your face until it rests against his groin with your cheek against his dick. His hand ruffles your hair and his eyes gives you the command to continue.

Being a sergeant of the 141 was tough business and John only recruited the best of the best. You are determined to show him just who he selected.

His dick is just like him, large with the head glistening in pre. You slowly grab the base and lick up his engorged organ. Spitting into your hand and the sounds of rough exhales fills the room, you grip his appendange in a gentle hand and suck on it. His head falls back against the pillows and his hand gently roams over you head. You love how caring he is every time he indulges you in this and the contented sigh hopefully conveys to him how good this is to you too.

His hip thrusts against your mouth and the sounds of his grunts pick up in intensity and harshness at every movement of your damn tongue over the slit.

"Good lad, yes, fuck, yer taking it so good for me, sweets." His scouse accent slips out and it makes him all the more sexy. The Captain John Price, putty in your hands while you drowned him in a pool of gold, the strings of lust caged around his heart yours to tug and play with.

He's beautiful, and you will keep telling him that until the day you die. Which considering your career choice, isn't too far off but the fondness in his eyes and his words makes it all the more precious and worth living for. He blushed when it first happened and you were reletentless in not letting him go afterwards, teasing him all night long and into the next day.

A quake shakes his thighs and his hand cups your face. His eyes implore you answer. All good, lad? You nod and lick up the base of the bulbous head, relishing in the broken moan you pull from the man and the jump of his pelvis towards the sinful mouth around his hard dick. His groin presses against your nose and the smell of his body wash, lavender and lilac, fits him just perfectly.

You fucking adore this man.

You can tell that he is impatient. His hands are more insistent when they play with your hair; his fingertips making contact with your scalp is tingling. Fine, you were going to empty his balls but first, you want him to admit it.

You want him to beg for it. So, you come off his dick and grabbed the base of it while a single unfufilled whine slips past his iron jaw. John isn't as good as controlling himself when pleasure is brought into the stituation. He prided himself on being collected but your mouth certainly is not helping matters.

"Captain, I'm not sure what to do now." You put on your best impression of a lost, troubled soldier.

"You fuckin, shit, tease. Get on with it, sergeant."

You bring your mouth closer and gives him a single kiss that sends shivers up his torso as beads of sweat roll down his toned body.

"Please. Move your hands, love." Close, but not quite.

"Fuck, please, sweetheart. Let this old man cum, lad."

Since he asked so nicely, you blow a kiss onto the angry looking head, earning yourself a deep grunt and some praises of good boy and my lad. You take him in fully until his dick is fully seated at the back of your throat. It's not easy since he is so well endowed but his gaze is motivation and encouragement. Your hands, not looking to rest, fondles his balls and strokes whatever doesn't fit in your mouth. He is a lost fisherman at sea, dancing as your pulled on the strings of lust shackled against his limbs. The hand in your head forces it down while he fucks your throat, his incredible core muscles lifting his pelvis off the bed to smash against your mouth. You love how feral he gets when he is close and chasing the wet, warmth heat of your throat.

He isn't loud, per se, but he more than loves to let the world know how good you are when he does climax. Ghost had once knocked on the door and asked you to please respect the noise rules. John had simply laughed when you complained to him.

Ignore him, lad. He's just jealous.

"My good boy. I'm close, love. Just keep, shit, keep that mouth tight." His words are a whip of lust that get you absolutely going for him.

The noises are obscene at this point, the wet noises of his pre mixed with your saliva and the sound of him fucking your throat are deafening in your head. His breathing has lost all of its tempo and he has that look when he is fighting to not cum. The light frown in his eyebrows and the taut muscles around his jaw. You loved the fisting of his free hand and the flexing of his powerful and sinuous thighs. His beautiful body is flexing and prostrated in pleasure, you want to see him fall.

Fall from the pedestal of a soldier and down into your embrace. Right here, neither him nor you are a spec-ops operative. He's beautiful, he always has been and now, this man is yours.

You hollow your cheeks and suck hard without telling him and he bellows. His voice is sonorous and he sounds majestic. He's your commander, in more ways than one. Weight yanks your head forward as those thighs lock your head into position. Sorry, lad but he is not sorry at all. You almost choke on his dick when he suddenly contracts his abdomen and those thighs pushes his throbbing dick further into your mouth. A single twitch, you know its his undoing, and ropes of hot cum are splashing into your mouth. He tastes salty and his cum is thick, viscous and heavy on your tongue. He might be older, but you love that about him. His fingers continue to brush over your head.

"Fuck, darling, don't swallow." That's a first.

His hand gently lifts your head off his dick where it rests against his navel when you come off him. A thin squirt when his dick jumped at the sight of your debauched look with cum on the corners of your mouth.

"Good, keep it in."

His eyes are gleaming with satiation and he tugs your body forward until you are chest to chest with him. He kisses you and his tongue darts into your cum filled mouth and swirls the liquid inside. Fuck, he's tasting himself while tongue fucking you into submission. Dirty, perverted Brit. He breaks the kiss with another moan and strings of cum are on his lips and tongue. There's even some in his beard and he makes sure to lick it clean. It’s so fucking filthy and he knows it too.

His hands start at your ass and ends at your reawakened dick. Previously forgotten, the roles are switched and the reins of lust are in his hands now. The gilded collar is beautiful against you neck, and he is determined to take all of the pleasure that belongs to him. Rough, calloused fingers settle into a slow, shitty rhythm that has you grinding into his palms for more. More of anything that he's willing to give.

"John, please." He loves your begs muffled by the mouthful of cum.

Patience, he tells you. He dips two fingers into your mouth and draws a thin trail of cum on your torso leading down to your dick. Again, stringy cum coats his thick fingers and he is slathering his cum all over your dick. The feeling starts off as weird but quickly ends up being the most sinful thing he's ever done. The milky white liquid is your accomplishment and it mixes with your own pre with obscene squelches in the mark of him. He loves the fight occurring internally to not give into him. To not beg or plead with him.

He commands you to swallow and you comply. The bobbing of your Adam's apple and your throat and he kisses you once more.

"Good work, my lovely lad. Did you have fun, making your captain beg?" His tone turns from John to Captain Price in a second and you moan at the implications. His hand turns into a prison on your weeping dick and you instinctively buck against his firm grip. Ineffective. He reminds you ever so of his strength. They don't call him captain for no reason.

"Well, I think we will need to address your discipline, soldier." His words are punctuated with sharp bites against your neck, Soap do not ask please, and your head tilts to give him more access to the area. The look in his eyes is one of mirth and thunders in the clear summer skies.

"Let's begin, sergeant." And you are arching and begging for him just as he takes control of the situation. His response, a deep laugh and you wail for him.

#fanfic #cod mw2 #john price #captain john price #john price x male reader #john price x reader #male reader #x male reader #m!reader #price fanfiction #call of duty

324 notes · View notes