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disgustingtwitches · 5 months ago

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MDNI

Working at a restaurant with 141!(Part 5)

The shithead owner decides that he needs to sign up for a "restaurant renovation" show. Chaos ensues.

"A fucking TV show?"

Gaz frowns while polishing glasses.

"Told him it was a bad idea."

Price shrugs, lighting a cigar. You are horrified, being on the screen for millions of people to see was nerve wracking. And it'll be the first time you meet the owner.

"Restaurant renovation... Lik' he gives twa fucks aboot renovating this shitehole."

Johnny ashes his smoke and passes it to you. You take a deep drag and sigh, this is gonna be a disaster.

Cameras are set up everywhere, everyone's mic'd up, there are too many people in too small of a space. Some obnoxiously loud man introduces himself. He seems to be an amalgamation of every TV host you've ever seen, wearing too much cologne and too much hair gel. He puts a hand on your shoulder,

"The place looks terrible but at least they got something nice to look at here."

He flashes a smile, cheap veneer blindingly white. You awkwardly laugh while Price steps in, introducing himself. You scurry away to the back where the rest of the boys are,

"I want everyone to be on their best behavior today. No fucking around. Don't make me look bad."

The owner is a bland man, average height and weight, with a shitty haircut and wearing an ugly flashy shirt. He turns around and briefly introduces himself, he already smells like liquor. Great. He gets waved over to get interviewed by the host. You and the guys watch from the other end of the restaurant. It's quite embarrassing, the host pointing out how run down the place looks, the menu is confusing and overwhelming, and then asks if he's drunk,

"I can smell the alcohol from here Carl... it's only 11am buddy."

The owner stutters and blinks,

"I- just uh, just a crazy night is all."

The host stares, unconvinced. Carl shifts awkwardly in his chair. The next segment was ordering food apparently, so you were up. You walk up to the table as the host asks you a barrage of questions,

"How would you say the fish is here? Is everything fresh? What do you think of the steak? Do you have any recommendations?"

When you say you only ate the fries from here and he laughs loudly,

"That is not a good sign folks!"

He stares at the camera, showing off teeth that were too big for his mouth before you walk off and punch in the order. There's a cameraman recording John and Simon cooking,

"Steak and potatoes."

John reads the slip out loud, they move around the kitchen while the owner watches. For such a simple dish there's a lot of chaos, Carl is yelling at them to move faster and cook properly, John is busy arguing with Carl and burns the steak, Simon plates up the food and hands it off to you. You place the plate down in front of the host,

"Oh...oh my God..."

You keep a straight face, hands behind your back. The host looks back up at you,

"Does the food usually come out like this?"

There's a tone of disgust and concern, his eyebrows turned up, you shrug. He stares back down at the filet and cuts into it,

"It's very impressive that one is able to overcook such a large piece of meat. That takes...skill."

You watch concertedly as he picks up a piece and puts it into his mouth, it looks like he wants to cry.

He goes on to complain about the quality of the food to the camera as he walks to the kitchen,

"At least it's clean back here. I've seen kitchens in wors- is that a fucking pigeon?"

Sure enough, there is. How the fuck did it get in here?

"Oh! I just left the door open to let some fresh air in..."

Carl awkwardly tries to catch the bird while the boys watch amusedly, even the camera crew stifle a laugh.

"Christ Almighty, what is wrong with you man?"

The host shakes his head, watching the whole scene in disbelief. Eventually, the bird is out of the building and the sweep of the kitchen continues.

"Food is not expired, everything is stored properly, it's all very well organized. I was honestly expecting worse."

The host walks up to the bar next, plucking up bottles and examining them,

"So, Kyle is it? How long have you been working here for?"

"Just a little over five years."

Gaz leans against the bar. There's a gasp and the host waves the camera over,

"Look at this shit,"

He points at the label,

"Expired in August,"

You look over at Gaz and Soap, they look like they're about to piss themselves, holding back laughs.

"Of 2012!"

The host looks disgusted,

"Why didn't you throw this away?"

"Carl told me to not toss anything."

Kyle shrugged. Soap is almost in tears, shaking, trying to bite back a howl of laughter.

The next two days are like this, you don't know why Carl hasn't pulled the plug on this fiasco yet,

"I think he's getting drunker as the days go by."

Johnny says, ashing his cigarette. There's a nod from Simon,

"I think he enjoys being embarrassed, seems like the type to get off on that."

'The big finale' as the host calls it, means getting a new menu, refreshing the cooks(John's) skills, and cleaning out the bar. The place is opened and there's a line out of the door. It's overwhelming, the customers are putting on a show, acting like dickheads and sending everything back even when there's nothing wrong with the food. Simon and John are on top of everything, putting out food as fast as possible, Carl is shitting himself running around the kitchen like a headless chicken. The night goes by fast and everyone is at the bar,

"So the cooks are for the most part competent, the waitress is amazing, and the bartender is well... The man can do no wrong. The problem here is you,"

The host points at Carl who is fucking sloshed swaying back and forth,

"I genuinely think this restaurant would be better off without you."

Carl starts bawling. The host is visibly uncomfortable. The boys and you are looking at each other. Then when all the cameras and lights are gone, it's all back to normal. Carl is looking for reassurance from anyone and you and the boys just pack up and head home, Price patting him on the back,

"You'll be alright."

A few months later, you're all sat on the couch watching the TV. Johnny's over the moon pointing at the screen,

"Look thare A am! See hou sexy A look?"

He's smiling and waving at the camera in the background of the scene where Carl is crying his eyes out. That gets a laugh out of Gaz,

"You're a sick bastard, Soap."

Once the episode dropped, the restaurant got busy for a few months. Most of the customers are horny women ogling at Kyle. On occasion you get the request to bring out "the scary looking one" and you just laugh it off.

"You're so lucky working with all these guys, I don't know if I'd be able to control myself,"

A particularly drunk woman said to you one day. You just smile while Kyle winks at you over his shoulder.

#this one was rushed sorry!!!#next one will have sex i promise!!#just wanted a little fun one #141 x reader #poly 141 #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #john price #ghost x reader #cod x reader #soap x reader #gaz x reader #kyle gaz x reader #john price x you #price x you #john price x reader #price x reader

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luffington · 5 months ago

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hihi, how are u⁉️ may i request jealous crocodile and/or doflamingo smut? i am OBSESSED w ur fur & feathers story, you’re an amazing writer!! thank you sm 🙏🫶💓‼️

➤ pairing: sir crocodile x afab!reader

➤ word count: 2.6k

➤ warnings: dom!crocodile, possessive behavior, spanking, degradation, praise, belly bulge, overstimulation, mentioned breeding kink, established relationship, fem reader

aww i'm glad you like it! i decided to give crocodile some love since i already have a few fics about doffy :3 i had really bad horny brainrot writing this he drives me insane

NSFW under the break! minors dni thank uuu

Deciding not to join Baroque Works was your own choice, but you shouldn’t be suffering for it.

The crime syndicate’s leader and you had been in a relationship for quite a while. You’d long since accepted his dedication to his job and his workaholic tendencies – a serious job required someone just as serious. But recently, it had gotten to be too much.

He spent sixteen hours a day holed up in his office, pouring over documents and answering calls and meeting with Miss All Sunday. Grunted quiet greetings when he came home at night, climbing into bed beside you then falling asleep immediately. He’d barely said three words to you all week.

You were jealous of the fucking Transponder Snail for how much attention it got. It was time to take matters into your own hands.

So you put on your sluttiest dress, a nice pair of heels, and flashy diamond earrings, then wandered around the massive Rain Dinners casino looking for easy prey. You settled on a drunk average-looking man with a winning streak at roulette. He openly ogled your body as you approached, and smirked lecherously when you asked if the empty seat on his left was taken.

The man clearly wasn’t a local. He didn’t recognize you, even though you weren’t shy about hanging onto Crocodile’s arm in public. And he was much too stupid to notice the casino staff’s constant nervous glances. While laughing and holding your drink, you brushed a flirty hand over his shoulder and pressed your body against him.

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed Crocodile emerge from the staff-only hallway to survey the room. Everything about him commanded attention – his abnormal height, his expensive clothes, his intimidating presence. In a flash, he materialized behind you. Half of his body was still reforming from a whirling sandstorm. Menacing golden eyes shone down at you, but his expression was eerily blank.

The entire casino fell silent. Everyone’s focus was on you.

Crocodile exhaled a pungent cloud of cigar smoke. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

Bullshit. He’d hardly looked at you at all for nearly two weeks. Ignoring the shivers running down your spine, you decided to continue taunting him.

“I’m watching my good friend here play roulette! He’s very lucky, he might take all your money home with him.” You didn’t even remember the man’s name, but you lied with a cheeky grin and firmly patted his thigh twice.

Much too friendly for Crocodile’s liking.

Your lover’s eyes narrowed in on the empty martini glass in front of you. “How many of those have you had?”

“I dunno, three? Four?” You turned to the stranger with a saccharine smile. “Were you keeping count?”

The man was frozen in place, terrified into silence at the sight of the eight foot tall Warlord towering above him. His all-consuming fear made him seem like a small animal staring into a Bananawani’s open jaws.

“You’re drunk. You should sit down.” Crocodile’s tone was steady but dangerous. Always aware of his public image, his carefully chosen words made him seem like the perfect gentleman.

“But I am sit–“

A murderous glare cut you off mid-sentence. You realized you’d taken your bratty act as far as it could go – any more might be threatening to your well-being. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you rose from your seat and automatically moved to his side. Tucked yourself into the folds of his coat, choosing to look down at your heels rather than his face.

“Make yourself comfortable in my office, darling.” The Warlord patted your shoulder, causing you to flinch. His voice dropped an octave as he growled, “I’d like to speak to this lucky gentleman in private.”

Crocodile’s pristine office was unnervingly quiet. You took a seat on the plush couch facing his desk, nervously bouncing your legs and trying to calm your racing heartbeat. With the lights off, the room was only illuminated by the water surrounding it. Dark shadows of swimming Bananawani regularly moved across the walls. Silly little prey, willingly walking into their nest.

The door suddenly slammed shut behind you. Heavy footsteps slowly approached but you didn’t dare turn around. Rich cologne flooded your nostrils and his golden hook flashed in your peripheral vision.

Your lover stayed quiet, patiently biding his time until the silence finally got to you. Timidly, you asked, “What happened to that man?”

“What man?” Your lover cocked his head to the side, feigning ignorance. After a moment, a sadistic chuckle rumbled from his chest. “Oh, you mean the mummy in the back room. Let’s say he mysteriously disappeared.”

You whipped your head around with wide eyes. “You killed him for me?”

Oddly, you didn’t feel bad about it – that man was a creep. Getting rid of him was probably a blessing for the women of Alabasta.

“Of course. I’d do anything for you, dear.” He sounded sincere, but then leaned down and fiercely whispered, “Except play this stupid game of yours. I like showing you off, not sharing you.”

Soft breath tickled your cheek and the fur lining of his coat brushed against your skin. You felt a fire ignite in your core – he was irresistibly sexy when he became possessive (well, more possessive than usual).

“Have I done something to upset you?” Crocodile kissed and licked down the column of your neck. “Or were you taunting me for fun?”

“Y-You’ve been so busy lately, I was–” The word ��lonely’ died on your lips when he sunk his teeth into the junction of your neck and shoulder.

“Oh, my poor dear. Are you feeling neglected?” He cooed when you shyly nodded, pressing a chaste kiss to the bite mark. “I’m very sorry. Work’s been out of control recently, but everything will settle down soon. You have my attention now.”

The tip of his hook slid under your dress’s thin shoulder strap, then cleanly tore through it. He repeated the action on the other side until the torn fabric slipped down to reveal your bare breasts.

“Not even wearing a bra?” Your lover clicked his tongue, roughly cupping and caressing your right boob then smacking the soft flesh. “If that man looked down your dress, then his death sentence was too lenient. I should’ve tortured him.”

“You’re so scary,” you giggled, letting your head fall back against his sturdy chest with a content sigh. Grainy fingers traced your areola then rubbed over your hardened nipples. Thankfully, you knew you’d never experience the true extent of his wrath – he adored you.

Without warning, he wrapped his cold hook around your throat. The proximity of its sharp edge to such a dangerous area made your hair stand on end.

“Bend over my desk,” he commanded, gently nipping your ear. “Darling.”

You stumbled over to the enormous desk, legs shaking from anticipation and arousal. Bracing your arms on the polished wood, you arched your back and presented your ass to him. The Warlord took a moment to admire the view, amused by your visible impatience.

“I bought you these,” Crocodile drawled, tracing the waistband of your silky panties with the curved back of his hook. You never saw their price tag, but they felt expensive. He poked your earlobe. “I bought you those earrings, too. They cost more berry than that pathetic man could ever make. Everything about you belongs to me – seems like I have to remind you.”

A large hand came down on your ass hard, jiggling the soft flesh and making you cry out in delight. The collection of rings on his fingers added a delicious extra sting. Three more spanks followed rapidly in the same spot, then four on the other cheek until every part of your ass ached.

Crocodile snickered when you rubbed your thighs together like an animal in heat. A wet spot had already dampened your panties. “Silly little slut. If you wanted to be spanked, you should’ve just asked. No need for all the theatrics.”

“Didn’t have a chance to since you were talking to that Snail all fucking day.” Your petulant mumble quickly turned into a yelp when his hand brutally struck the crease of your thighs. Making sure you’d feel the sting every time you sat down. He grabbed the roots of your hair and yanked your head back.

“Watch your tone,” Crocodile growled. The Warlord released you, catching you before your limp body hit the desk and easily flipped you onto your back. A wicked smirk almost as wide as his scar spread across his face. He hungrily observed your body like a predator about to pounce.

He pulled down your panties with an unnerving carefulness – he didn’t want to damage his property, after all. Then he roughly spanked your bare pussy. Your surprised cry of pain echoed throughout the empty room. Satisfied with your reaction, he did it again and again until your folds turned puffy.

Crocodile spread your cunt using the back of his hook so he could land a direct hit on your sensitive clit. The impact on your bundle of nerves sent electric shocks throughout your body, your back arching painfully off the table. Your lover chuckled and swiped two fingers through your drenched folds.

“Who else can make you this wet?” Crocodile webbed your juices between his fingers before bringing them to your lips. Obediently opening your mouth, you suckled and swirled your tongue around them. Paying extra attention to his rings, making sure the precious jewels shined with your spit. Though it was a rhetorical question, he pulled his fingers out to hear your response.

“No one.” You answered honestly, your eyes dilated with lust and chest heaving. “Just you.”

“You’re damn right.” Crocodile unlatched his belt, letting his trousers hit the floor with a metallic clang. His enormous dick smacked against his pelvis, rock hard and leaking pearly precum. You unconsciously licked your lips at the sight. “Can’t let another cock can satisfy you, either. I need to ruin you for anyone else.”

Demanding you to look directly at him, he lined up his tip with your hole and thrust his hips forward. Slowly at first – his massive cock often met resistance in your tiny cunt – but after the first few inches, he slammed the entire length inside. Knocking all the air out of your lungs, your head lolling back on the desk. Crocodile stayed like that, appreciating the pretty bulge in your belly.

“Crocodile, please…”

“My name sounds perfect on your lips.” That predatory gaze was back, the need to possess you overwhelming his thoughts. Your lover pulled back until only the tip remained in your dripping pussy, then harshly rammed his dick in all the way.

Quickly setting a rough pace, Crocodile palmed at your tits with rough hands then leaned into the crook of your neck, whispering a dizzying mix of praise and degrading phrases. All of your coherent thoughts vanished from your brain.

You clutched onto his coat to ground yourself, to not get lost in the sea of pleasure washing over you. His cock was too fucking big. Too fucking good. It bullied its way inside your wet walls, permanently reshaping them to the perfect fit as he called you his pretty little cocksleeve.

Over a week’s worth of pent-up sexual urges were quickly coming to a head. Crocodile knew your body so well that he immediately recognized the signs of your impending orgasm. He reached his hand between your bodies to rub circles on your clit, pinching and pulling the sensitive nub for good measure.

“H-Holy fuck, ahhh, shit, I’m gonna…”

The Warlord smirked cruelly and paused his movements with his cock halfway inside you. “Apologize for being a brat. For even looking at that worthless man.”

If you had a stronger resolve, you could’ve kept this game going even longer. Asked him to apologize for ignoring you. Maybe even gotten a few more spanks out of it. But you needed to cum, and you desperately needed his giant cock to move.

“I’m sorry,” you panted desperately. “I won’t be bratty anymore, I promise. You’re the only man I’ll ever want. I’ll do anything, just – please, please, let me cum.”

“Very good girl.” Crocodile rewarded you by sensually rolling his hips to stir your insides around. Snickering, he admitted, “Although, I do enjoy when you act up every once in a while. You’re especially sexy when you submit to me.”

Your lover resumed fucking you hard enough to make the desk creak. Legs shaking with every thrust, your eyes were unfocused and the only thought in your head was how full you felt. Looking down, you dreamily watched the bump in your stomach move up and down as his dick rearranged your guts.

“Scream my name loud enough for the entire casino to hear when you cum. Let them know who owns you.”

Just one scream wasn’t enough for you – you chanted his name like a prayer as your orgasm hit you in full force. Juices gushed around Crocodile’s cock and dripped down his balls. He lazily fondled your clit to help you through it, only pulling away once the aftershocks had subsided. You lay limply on the desk, face flushed and chest heaving.

Belatedly, you realized that Crocodile hadn’t budged. A concerning sign.

“You… you didn’t cum?”

“This soon? Of course not. I didn’t commit murder for one measly orgasm,” he chuckled. “Evidently, I have a lot of lost time to make up for. Your cunt better be prepared.”

“W-wait, give me a minute –”

“No, dear, you were right. I spent too much time ignoring you. You deserve all my love.” He punctuated his words with a sharp thrust that knocked his mushroom tip against your cervix. “And affection.” Another thrust. “And every inch of my cock.”

Filthy squelching sounds and your lover’s balls slapping against your ass accompanied your overwhelmed scream. Tears pricked at your eyes as he increased his pace, your brain becoming as mushy as your cunt.

“Such a perfect pussy. Only a real man like me can treat it properly.” Crocodile murmured smugly. Leaning down to press his body flush against yours, his muscular pecs squished against your tits. His normally slicked-back hair was coming undone, strands sticking to his forehead from sweat. Dizzying pleasure washed over you when his fingers found your clit again.

Crocodile felt his balls tighten, but held himself back from the edge by slowing down to a relaxed grind, focusing all of his attention on you. You fucking lost your mind when he spelled each letter of his name on your sensitive bundle of nerves. A second orgasm washed over you in a bright light, your tongue lolling out of your mouth as you murmured absolute nonsense mixed with cries of his name.

Your cunt clamping down on his cock like a vice sent him over the edge. At the very last second, Crocodile pulled out to spurt thick stripes of cum across your stomach. With a deep, satisfied groan, he jerked himself to completion until your skin was painted white. Fully marking you as his own.

Satisfaction and exhaustion made your eyes flutter shut, but Crocodile ensured you stayed awake by giving you a surprisingly tender forehead kiss. Cradling your cheek, he asked, “Feel better?”

“My ass hurts, but yes. I feel great.” You nodded with a fucked-out grin, chasing his lips for a real kiss which he eagerly granted.

“Good. As pretty as you look covered in my cum, the next load is going inside you. I need to fuck a baby into my beautiful girl.”

His next load? Your eyes widened when he began stroking his cock again, still soft but beginning to twitch with interest. Turning your head, you met the downward-turned eyestalks of his shut-off Transponder Snail.

#bananawani comparison bc it's what he would've wanted #sir crocodile smut #sir crocodile x reader #sir crocodile imagine #crocodile smut #dom!crocodile #crocodile x reader #crocodile imagine #one piece smut #one piece x reader #sir crocodile #crocodile #request #anon #mine #my fics #croc

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astro-rain · 1 month ago

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i can handle me a dangerous man

pairing: logan howlett x f!reader

word count: 2.6k

synopsis: Gruff sexy dangerous man walks into a bar. Bartender is a hopeless yearner turned seductress that wants to handle her a dangerous man. (smut with plot) Lowkey praise kink!Logan.

A/N: not edited

A cigarette perfumed room was where she spent most of her time. That old, oaky bar whose wooden floorboards creaked beneath the men who only ordered whiskey.

She was used to cigarettes. So when the rich, earthy aroma of a cigar billowed out of this mouth, it caught her attention.

Oh. Her thoughts went soft, breath thin.

“You alright?” the other bartender asked her still frame.

“Yes!” she turned around. “Sorry, I zoned out.”

“You see that one guy?” the coworker whispered. “He’s huge.”

“What guy?”

“Across the bar. Tall. Scruffy. Brooding.”

“Oh, yeah… He is tall.”

“Looks kinda scary though.”

“You think?”

“Yeah, look at him. He’s kinda buff. And he looks…” the coworker tilted his head, thinking, “I don’t know what emotion that is but — not happy.”

She kept her eyes to the floor, feigning nonchalance.

“You talk to him?”

“Only when he first ordered. His voice is sorta scary, too. Like, gruff.”

She looked back over to him. There was a dusty window behind him that shown soft light onto him, gentle golden emanating his frame. Warmed by the mahogany of the leather worn across his shoulders.

“Doesn’t look that gruff,” she commented gingerly, picking up a cup to clean. “He’s kinda pretty, actually.”

“You wanna talk to him?” he asked, almost surprised.

She shrugged cheekily. “I dunno. I might.”

“Good Lord. He’s yours.”

Quite frankly, unable to not notice him, she made her way over when she saw his empty glass.

“Get you another?” she asked, enjoying being closer than across the bar.

“Yeah. Thanks,” he gave her a nod.

His voice was low, husky, but dulcet. She didn’t realize she liked the smell of cigars. Smoke flitted around him, illuminated by the backdrop of dusty sunlight behind him. When it floated above his head, it almost looked like a halo.

She returned, placing his second drink down in front of him.

“Those good?” she gestured to the cigar.

He raised an eyebrow. “What, you wanna try?”

A meek smile. “You offering?”

He shrugged, reaching out his arm to her, cigar in hand. She tried not to let her hand linger on his as she took it.

“You smoke?” he asked.

“Not really, no.”

“Don’t inhale it. Just hold the smoke in your mouth for a bit, then exhale.”

She nodded and brought the cigar to her lips, doing as he said. She drew the smoke into her mouth, held it for a second, then exhaled. She watched the smoke swirl around in between them, before glancing up to meet his gaze. A beat passed as she clung to the umber in his eyes, deep brown drawing her closer.

“Thanks,” she leaned in to hand the cigar back. She noticed his dog tag. “Logan.”

“Don’t mention it…” he trailed off, not knowing her name.

She gave it to him diligently

He left not long after that. She watched his burly frame as he got up to go.

The next time she saw him, it was much later at night. And more crowded.

She smelled the smoke before she saw the man. The scent caught her attention immediately and beckoned her head to the door.

He looked just as good as when she saw him the first time, if not better. He wore the same leather jacket with a different cigar hanging out of his mouth. But the same brown richness in his eyes.

Over the course of the night she went back and forth, bringing him his next drink, making conversation, trying not to stare. She could’ve been mistaken but she thought she felt his eyes on her when she was elsewhere around the bar.

“Hey!” some drunk man called to her. “I’ve been waiting for that beer forever!”

“Yup. I’m coming.”

“Like, don’t know why it’s takin’ so long,” he slurred. “It’s a beer, you don’t even have to pour it. Just open it and bring it.”

“I’m sorry for the wait, I’ll get to you in a second.”

The man looked to the people around him, like they should be as outraged as he was. “I mean, what the hell? Is it that hard?”

“Sir, please. Just give me a second.”

“Oh, oh! Give you a second?” he scoffed. “How bout give me my fuckin beer.”

She rolled her eyes, grabbing a bottle. Annoyed, she placed it in front of him with a little too much force.

“Hey!” he grasped her arm, “I didn’t ask for the attitude.”

She pulled her arm, but he held on hard. “Are you kidding me? You wanna get kicked out?”

“All I want is some good service. Didn’t realize it was so fuckin’ hard—“

Her arm was suddenly free, as the man’s arm was snatched away and slammed onto the bar counter. Suddenly, Logan was standing in front of her, pinning the man’s arm down.

“What the fuck man!” the drunk idiot slurred, trying to yank his arm away. It didn’t even budge.

“Get out,” Logan ordered.

“Dick. You get out. Get off me!”

In a drunken rage, the man swung, only for his fist to be caught almost effortlessly. Logan clenched his hand on the man’s, and she thought she heard a crack. The man grimaced, trying, in vain, to conceal the fact that he was in pain.

Logan’s voice was low. “You can either leave yourself or I can escort you.”

Then he released the man’s hand.

“Jesus, fuck,” the man said, holding his own hand. He stalled for a second, looking between her and Logan. Then he left, defeated.

She rubbed her arm where he had grabbed her. “Thank you. I guess.”

“Are you hurt?”

“No, no. I’m fine, he just got my arm.”

“Sorry about that.”

“Oh, don’t be sorry, you didn’t do anything.”

“Just sorry that it happened.”

It was quiet for a moment. It was almost difficult to tear herself away from looking at him.

“Thank you,” she said, softly.

Her and another coworker made their way back to the register.

“Did that actually just happen?” the coworker asked.

“Why, you still scared?”

“And you aren’t? He seems dangerous. It’s not that I’m scared, he’s scary.”

She glanced back at Logan, who was back in his seat but seemed to be scanning the room, more specifically the area closest to her.

“I don’t know,” she tilted her head. “I don’t really see it that way.”

The coworker shook his head. “God help you with your taste in men.”

She smiled. “Hey, your good lord doesn’t need to lift a finger! I can handle it.”

She glanced back over at Logan again, only to find him already looking at her. Dangerous? That’s a maybe. Alluring? That’s for sure. She liked those odds.

When her shift had finally ended, she was leaving out the bar’s back door into the dead of night. She stopped short once she saw a man standing a few feet ahead of her, leaning against the wall. She would’ve been alarmed at first, but then she smelled the cigar.

“I almost just dropped dead before I realized it was you,” she took a breath; he smiled at that. “What are you doing back here?”

“Waiting for you.”

Her breath caught in the back of her throat. She held it in her mouth for a second, then exhaled. She took a step forward.

“For me?” she smiled fondly.

He pulled the cigar from his lips, letting a cloud flow from his tongue. “That’s right. The patrons here don’t seem overly civilized. Just wanted to make sure no one else was waiting.”

She was close enough that she could inhale the smoke he just breathed out. Perhaps if she focused, she could taste his tongue on it. Emboldened by the thought, she took another step closer, gently grabbing the cigar for herself.

“And they say you’re dangerous,” she inhaled.

He tilted his head. “Who said that?”

She exhaled. “Is it true?”

“Sometimes. Depends.”

“Hm.”

Ever so slowly, she brought the cigar up to his mouth and placed it between his lips. He let her, eyes attached to hers the entire time.

“I don’t feel scared,” her voice was whisper smooth.

Gently, she took hold of his hand and brought it up to her cheek. His palm was rough but strong, akin to the leather of his jacket. The leather that she was now close enough to smell. And mixed with the cigar smoke and bourbon, it was inebriating. With a tenderness that hit her just as hard as it was soft, he gently caressed the skin on her cheek.

Her nerves were galvanized. That’s right, she thought. Let me beckon the softness from you.

He took the cigar from his mouth with his other hand.

“Your hearts beating really fast,” he commented.

“What? How do you know?”

“I can hear it.”

It was dead silent. Why was that attractive? All she could feel was his hand on her cheek.

“Oh,” she paused, glued to his gaze. “Does that give me away then?”

“Were you trying to be subtle?”

“Not a whole lot.”

He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “So what now?”

“I closed the bar tonight. So no one’s there and I’m the only one with the key.”

“Is that what you want?”

“You tell me, angel.”

That was all he needed.

As soon as the door was shut and locked behind her, he was on her. Without thought she gave her neck to him, head thrown back against the door. Since he could hear her heart, she hoped he could feel the thrumming in her veins. To sense something so personal — so dangerous — as blood was exhilarating. Go ahead, know me, she thought. Feel me. Take me.

“Shouldn’t be doin’ this,” he gritted out during an excruciating pause from her neck.

“We absolutely should be doing this,” she breathed, basking in the feeling of his hand cradling the back of her head.

“Whoever said it — they’re right. I am dangerous.”

“You’re perfect.”

He pulled back for a moment and held her face in his hands. They were both quite breathless.

He caressed her cheek once more. “I don’t wanna get you into trouble.”

She put her hands over his.

“Does it look like I mind trouble?”

“It looks like you should.”

She tilted her head down and looked up at him through her lashes. “But look how good you’re treating me.”

His jaw clenched. “You’re evil.”

“And you’re heavenly.”

That snapped that was left of his sanity. In one quick swoop, he hooked one arm underneath her thighs and leaned her against the wall, the other hand holding the base of her neck. He dove in as she ran her hands through his hair. He moved around until he found the spot that made her grip his hair tight.

“That’s it,” he whispered.

The muscles in her back tensed.

“Bite me,” she implored.

“No.”

“Please,” she strained.

He couldn’t oppose her. And he could feel her skin growing warmer. Without enough force to draw blood, he bit down on the spot she liked, delighting in the hum from her throat she didn’t even try to hide.

“You like that?”

“I like you,” she tugged his mouth to hers and swallowed his groan at the contact.

It was heated, fast, and almost messy. Now she could taste his tongue for real. She moaned at the feeling. Just hearing her was enough to make him rut his hips against hers. He didn’t realize he was so worked up.

“Mm,” she breathed, parting from his lips for a second. “Should do that for real.”

He was holding her up with almost no effort. She was dying to find out what he could do if he was motivated.

“I can’t—“ he was interrupted by her mouth, “fuck you against a bar wall.”

“Sure you can,” her voice was coated in sweetness but was pure sex. “You’ll be real good at it too.”

“Jesus Christ.”

With haste, he grabbed the bottom hem of her top and pulled it off over her head. He put her down for a second to take his own shirt off and let her undress the rest of the way. He looked up and she was fully nude in front of him.

With a feather light touch, his hands ghosted the outline of her waist and hips. “And you called me angel.”

“Yeah. This face…” she stepped up so her chest was flush against his, hands cupping his face. “It’s dangerous how good you look.”

He could almost blush. Instead, he hoisted her up again and pressed her against the wall.

“This is how you like it?”

“Only if it’s you.”

He dove into her neck again, sucking and licking and biting where he saw fit. He reached his hand between her legs to find her eager and nearly dripping.

“Jesus. All that for me?” he whispered into her neck.

She nodded almost frantically. “Since I first saw you the other night.”

"You’re gonna kill me.”

“How about you fuck me instead.”

He didn’t need to be told twice. With his spare hand he shoved his pants down just far enough. When he pushed into her they both gasped, foreheads pressed up against each other. She gripped his shoulders with both hands, trying to steady herself from the dizzying feeling of being so filled. Like her coworker said, he’s huge.

He started slow, rhythmic strokes going in and out.

“Oh fuck,” she laid her head on his shoulder.

He had one arm under her ass and one pressed up against her back, holding her like something precious.

“You okay?” he asked, planting a kiss on her shoulder, over a mark he had already left.

“Yes,” her breath was getting heavy. “It’s so deep. Fuck. Keep going.”

Obeying, he began to speed up. He started to bounce her a little bit to match the speed of his thrusts.

Her eyes rolled back. “Jesus fucking Christ.”

“Sound so pretty when you’re talkin’ like that.”

“You sound-,”her breath hitched, “-pretty all the time. That voice-,” a sharp inhale, “-alone could get me off.”

His pace sped up again as he unsuccessfully stifled a loud groan. “Sweet talking me like that like you want me to finish early.”

“You like it?”

“I like you.”

At this point, they’re both heaving as he’s erratically slamming her up and down against his hips. Her voice shuddered and she swung her head back, but it smacked against the wall behind her. Immediately he brought his hand up to hold the back of her head. A simple act, but she thought that was going to end her.

Her breathing then became erratic and nearly every muscle in her body started to clench.

“You close, sweet girl? You look so pretty like this.”

She wrapped her arms around the back of his neck and held on tight, gasping and moaning his name over and over. And that was how she came undone. In his arms as he cradled her head, whispering endearments to her.

Once he coaxed her back to reality, she pulled away to face him and he pushed stray strands of hair out of her face. Her deep breaths began to slow and she rested her forehead on his again.

“You’re so gentle with me it makes my chest hurt.”

He laughed. “Is that a compliment?”

She laughed, too. “Like, I don’t know how I’m supposed to not fall in love with you.”

It was half a joke, half not.

“You definitely shouldn’t do that.”

“Would it be so horrible?”

“No. It wouldn’t.”

“Well, then what’s the problem?”

“It would end badly.”

“Why? ‘Cause you’re dangerous?”

“I dunno. Something like that. And if not me, then other people.”

“I think I could handle it.”

#logan howlett #logan wolverine #logan x reader #logan x you #x men #wolverine #logan howlet x reader #logan howlet smut

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keepthedelta · 7 months ago

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thinking about the rosberg family and how a kardashian or dts style documentary about them would be amazing.

you have keke rosberg, a hard racing cigar smoking legend of motorsport from one of it's most dangerous eras, whose name literally means pixie rose mountain. the man who basically invented formula one in finland but was hated by his own media for being too cosmopolitan and when they tried to recognise his achievements refused to let them put his face on a postage stamp because he wouldn't make money off of it. studied to be a dentist but missed the entrance exam and became a racing driver instead. got out of having to take german in school by persuading the master that he would never need it but as soon as he met a hot older german woman went so insane over her that he proposed just months after meeting her and agreed to make it their primary language at home. set a record for the fastest lap in f1 history that lasted until 2004, won his first f1 race and then won a world championship before he won his second. known as a crazy racer who would go through you if you didn't let him past. also the softest dad who loves his baby boy more than anything else.

then there's sina, the coolest person in the rosberg family. was so hot and smart and talented that a man willingly sacrificed his cultural identity to be her husband. professional interpreter who knows a bunch of languages and taught them to her polyglot son. married a f1 world champion but hated his driving so much that she drove herself everywhere, even to events that she attended with him. showed up finland's independence day ball in a suit and bow tie against all dress customs. planned to give birth on her own because it's basically the same thing as going to the dentist, and she doesn't need a man for that. has an f1 champion husband and son and still banned f1 talk in her house for nico's entire career. got so nervous watching her baby race that she vacuumed the entire apartment each time. ditched her husband in dubai so that she could make it to the track to see nico become world champion in person. got drunk and talked about keke's sperm on live television.

nico rosberg, the saddest wettest kitten who ever lived. the most beloved baby in the world. cried at everything as a child. cried when he lost at tennis and when he won. uber competitive. incredibly athletic, competing internationally in karting and tennis. total nerd who had no trouble with his schoolwork despite missing school constantly and got accepted into imperial college london to study engineering. at the time the youngest person to ever drive an f1 car. the biggest single cause of sexuality crises in motorsport since 2006. was once sponsored by the german version of mtv. nicknamed after a teen pop sensation. met the love of his life when he was four and hit her over the head with a bucket while they were making sandcastles. had an incredibly difficult incredibly public divorce from a man he was never legally married to. dropped the mic said thank u, next and is so so happy in his retirement. has stripped down to his underwear on television and done a river clean up in designer coats. boy mom to an orange cat, girl dad to human children. loves his daughters more than anything, the kind of man who will leave a 2 million dollar car on a hill to hitchhike, with his videographer, to his daughters's christmas party. can pinpoint the amount of time lost in a corner exactly and needs everyone to know about it. deeply annoying, absolutely hilarious, incredibly kind.

and of course, vivian. ceo of the rosberg family. still planning the long game revenge on nico for hitting her with a bucket when they were children, born in germany, studied design in milan, can party harder than f1 drivers. has done the interior design for private jets, because apparently that's a thing. owner, creator and namesake of the best rated ice cream shop in the balearics. makes her daughters matching outfits for a taylor swift concert and publicly teases her husband for not being a fan. stages elaborate christmas photos with a different colour theme every year. wore a white dress with turquoise louboutins and chanel bag to match nico's race suit in one of the most iconic and yet deeply underappreciated wag moments in f1 history. ruined them with champagne but didn't care. wants her children to be happy. definitely pegs her husband.

most interesting motorsport family of all time. forget dts, i just want to know about them

#the chances of this happening are less than zero #but. i want it #rosberg family #keke rosberg #nico rosberg #sina rosberg #vivian rosberg

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shybluebirdninja · 4 months ago

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Feral Obssession

Summary: Logan's animal instincts go wild when Deadpool casually mentions how often you pass by his place—now Logan needs to see for himself.

Pairing : Worst-Wolverine!Logan Howlett x Prostitute!Fem-reader

Note : smut, cum play, very rough sex

WORD COUNT: 3k

Logan’s been living with Wade Wilson for a while now, something that would usually drive him to stab something—or someone—on a good day. Between Wade's non-stop mouth and Blind Al’s random pranks, Logan’s patience had worn thin. But lately, it’s not Wade's annoying chatter or Blind Al’s sarcastic remarks keeping him on edge. It’s you.

Wade had mentioned you in passing more than once. Apparently, you walked past their place all the time—coming home late at night, dressed to kill, a body that turned heads wherever you went. And yeah, Wade had made some dirty joke about what you did for a living. But Logan… he couldn’t shake the image from his head. He had to see for himself.

One night, it finally happened. You walked by just as Logan was outside, smoking a cigar on the fire escape. His eyes tracked your movements automatically, almost like a predator on the hunt, drawn to you like a moth to a flame. You were in tight jeans that hugged every curve, your top clinging to your body like a second skin. Goddamn, you were something.

And the worst part? You glanced up at him, just for a second, a sly smile teasing your lips before you disappeared into your apartment across the hall. That smile. It stirred something in him that he hadn’t felt in a long time—something primal, something dangerous.

Days passed, and every time you passed by, Logan’s instincts got sharper. It was like he could smell you in the air, a heady mix of perfume and something uniquely you. He tried to ignore it, to push it aside. He’d been down this road before, and it never ended well. But damn it, he couldn’t.

One evening, as Logan sat brooding with a whiskey in hand, Wade strolled in, grinning like a damn Cheshire cat.

“Hey, Peanut,” Wade started, flipping onto the couch with all the grace of a drunk cat. “You know that smokin’ hot neighbor of ours? The one with the legs for days? She asked about you today.”

Logan’s brow furrowed. “The hell’re you talking about, Wade?”

“I’m serious, man! Said she’d noticed you staring like a lovesick puppy. Thought you might want to… you know… get to know her better.” Wade waggled his eyebrows obnoxiously. “You into that kinda thing? ‘Cause I might’ve, uh… mentioned you.”

Logan felt his jaw tighten. He didn’t say anything, just shot Wade a look that could’ve peeled paint. But inside, his mind was racing. You noticed him?

“Come on, man,” Wade continued. “She’s into you. And trust me, with a body like that, she could break you in half.”

Logan grunted, trying to keep his cool. He didn’t want to talk to Wade about this, but something stirred inside him, something he couldn’t shake. Maybe it was time to stop fighting it.

Later that night, Logan found himself standing outside your door, hesitating for the briefest moment. Then, with a deep breath, he knocked.

The door swung open, and there you were. That same teasing smile played on your lips as your eyes met his.

“Logan,” you greeted smoothly, leaning against the doorframe, your voice a sultry purr. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Yeah, well… Wade’s a pain in the ass,” he muttered, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. “But he wasn’t wrong about you.”

You chuckled, the sound low and throaty. “So, you’ve been watching me, huh? Thought I’d noticed those eyes of yours burning a hole through my clothes.”

Logan’s gaze darkened, and for the first time, he stepped closer, the tension between you crackling like a live wire. “Can’t help it, darlin’. You make it hard not to look.”

You bit your lip, the air thick with heat. “Wanna come in?”

The door closed behind him with a soft click. Inside, it was dimly lit, shadows dancing along the walls, but the atmosphere was anything but quiet. Logan could feel it in the air, thick with lust, desire coursing through his veins like a drug. He didn’t need to think. He didn’t need to talk. His instincts took over.

“Logan,” you whispered, stepping closer, your hands trailing up his chest. His muscles were solid beneath your touch, his breath catching just slightly. He was so controlled, so contained… but you could feel the raw power beneath the surface.

His hand caught your wrist, gentle but firm. “You sure about this?” he asked, his voice a low rumble, dangerous but full of need.

You smirked, eyes gleaming with challenge. “I’ve been sure since I first saw you on that fire escape.”

That was all it took. In a blur of motion, Logan’s lips crashed against yours, his hands gripping your waist and pulling you flush against him. The heat between you was overwhelming, your bodies pressed together, every touch igniting something deeper, something feral.

His hands roamed over your body, rough but skilled, like he knew exactly how to touch you. You gasped as his fingers trailed down your back, pulling you even closer. You could feel the tension in his body, the restraint, like he was holding himself back from just tearing your clothes off.

“Logan,” you breathed, your voice thick with desire. “Don’t hold back.”

That was all he needed to hear. In one swift motion, he had you against the wall, his mouth hot against your neck, his breath heavy and ragged. His hands found the hem of your shirt, pulling it up and over your head, his lips trailing down your chest, leaving a burning path in their wake.

Your fingers tangled in his hair as he kissed and bit his way across your skin, his body pressing harder against yours. You could feel the hunger in him, the need, and it mirrored your own. It was like you were feeding off each other, every kiss, every touch building the tension higher and higher.

Before you knew it, you were on the bed, Logan above you, his eyes dark and wild with lust. He looked at you like you were the only thing that mattered, like he needed you to breathe.

And then, with a growl, he gave in.

Logan’s hands gripped your hips, pulling you closer as he buried himself inside you with one deep, slow thrust. The feeling was electric, your body arching against him as you gasped for air. He didn’t move at first, just stayed there, holding you close, his forehead resting against yours as he groaned low in his throat.

“Fuck,” he whispered, his voice thick with need.

You couldn’t respond. You could barely think. All you could feel was him—inside you, around you, filling you completely.

Logan's body moved with precision, each thrust deep and slow, making your breath hitch with every movement. His hands gripped your hips tightly, grounding him as he pressed into you, his rough palms hot against your skin. You could feel the restrained power beneath his muscles, the tension winding tighter and tighter with every second. The air was thick with lust, and you could barely focus on anything except the feeling of him inside you, your body arching up to meet his, desperate for more.

His lips brushed against your ear, his breath heavy and ragged, filled with low growls that sent shivers down your spine. “You’re gonna be the death of me, darlin’,” he muttered, voice low and gravelly, but it was clear he was losing control too. His restraint was unraveling fast, and you wanted to see him give in completely.

You gasped his name, nails digging into his back as his hips moved faster, the slow burn turning into something more desperate. The feeling was overwhelming, your mind fogging over as pleasure coursed through you, and you could barely form words. But then, he stopped—just for a moment, pulling back, his breath harsh in the silence of the room.

Before you could ask what he was doing, Logan gripped your hips tighter and flipped you over onto your stomach in one swift, effortless move. You gasped, bracing yourself on your hands and knees, and before you could fully adjust, you felt his hands slide down your back, rough fingertips tracing the curve of your ass as he positioned himself behind you. The heat of his body hovered over yours, close but not quite touching, teasing you with his proximity.

Without warning, he thrust back into you, deep and rough this time, making you moan out loud. Your hands gripped the sheets as he set a rhythm, pounding into you from behind, each movement powerful and deliberate. Logan's growls became more primal, echoing in the room as his hips slapped against yours. His hands tangled in your hair, pulling your head back slightly so you could hear the rumble in his voice, feel his breath hot against your neck.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he growled, his words dripping with lust, each syllable punctuated by another hard thrust. The angle was deeper, rougher, and you could barely catch your breath as the pleasure intensified, building in waves that made your whole body tremble.

“Logan,” you moaned his name, unable to hold back the sounds escaping your lips. The sensation of his cock filling you over and over, the way he moved, every part of him screamed dominance, but there was something more behind it—something raw and hungry. It was like he needed you, couldn’t get enough of you, and you fed off that need.

Just when you thought you couldn’t take it anymore, he pulled out suddenly, flipping you onto your back. You barely had time to register the change before he was on top of you, his body pressing you into the mattress as his lips found yours again in a heated, desperate kiss. His hands roamed your body, gripping your thighs, pulling your legs up around his waist as he positioned himself over you.

Logan’s eyes locked with yours, dark and wild, filled with a kind of intensity that made your heart race. “I want you to look at me when you come,” he growled, voice thick with lust. And then, with one powerful thrust, he was inside you again, filling you completely.

This time, it was missionary, and his movements were slower, more deliberate again, but every thrust hit deeper, the angle perfect. You could feel every inch of him, the heat between your bodies overwhelming as he moved inside you. His lips found your neck, kissing and biting at the sensitive skin there, making you gasp and arch into him, your fingers digging into his shoulders.

“You like that, don’t ya?” he muttered against your skin, his voice a low rumble. “Tell me.”

“Yes, Logan… God, yes,” you breathed, your voice barely a whisper as the pleasure built again, even more intense than before.

Logan grinned against your neck, his lips trailing down to your chest, his mouth hot against your skin as his pace quickened, his hips driving into you harder now. The angle was perfect, every thrust hitting just right, pushing you closer and closer to the edge. His body moved like a machine, powerful and relentless, but there was something deeply intimate about the way he looked at you, the way his hands gripped your hips, holding you close as he took you over the edge.

“Fuck, I can feel you,” he groaned, his eyes dark and locked on yours. “Come for me.”

That was all it took. Your body tensed, your nails digging into his back as the orgasm hit, waves of pleasure crashing through you, leaving you gasping for breath. Logan’s movements didn’t slow down, his hips still driving into you, prolonging your climax until you were trembling beneath him, completely spent.

Before you could catch your breath, he moved again, shifting you onto your side, your legs tangled together as he pressed against you from behind, his cock still buried deep inside you. His hand slid down your body, gripping your thigh and pulling it over his hip as he thrust into you again, this time slower, deeper, more intimate.

You moaned softly, the sensation overwhelming as he moved inside you from this new angle, his body pressed tightly against yours. His hand slid up your stomach, over your chest, fingers brushing your breasts as he held you close, his breath hot against your ear.

“You feel so fucking good,” he growled, his voice rough and filled with need. “I could do this all night.”

Logan’s hand slid down your body again, his fingers finding your clit, rubbing slow, lazy circles as he thrust into you, his pace picking up again. The sensation was too much, and before you knew it, the pressure was building again, another orgasm rising up inside you, ready to explode.

“Logan… I’m gonna…”

“I know,” he growled, his voice low and commanding. “Come for me again. I wanna feel you.”

And with one last thrust, you did.

Logan’s grip on your thigh tightened as you trembled beneath him, your body overwhelmed by the intensity of your orgasm. His pace hadn’t slowed at all, if anything, it was faster now, more primal, more needy. You could feel it in the way he grunted, the way his hands dug into your skin, like he was barely holding himself back.

“Fuck… you’re gonna make me lose it,” Logan growled, his voice so rough it almost vibrated through your body. He thrust harder, deeper, as if he was trying to pull every ounce of pleasure from you, driving you into a state where you were too lost to even think.

His hand snaked around your waist, pulling you closer, almost possessive in the way he gripped you. His chest was slick with sweat against your back, his breath hot in your ear, and the sheer power radiating off him made you feel small in his arms—but in the best way.

“Goddamn it…,” he muttered, and you could feel the tension in his whole body. The muscles in his arms were flexed, veins popping out as he held onto you, like you were the only thing keeping him from coming undone.

His lips brushed against your neck, biting down softly as he pushed into you one last time, deep and hard, holding himself there as a deep growl rumbled from his chest. You could feel the moment he finally gave in, the way his whole body shuddered against yours as he came, the heat of his release filling you, spilling out in hot waves.

Logan’s growl turned into a soft groan, his hips jerking slightly as the last of his control slipped away. For a moment, he didn’t move, just held you there, buried deep inside you, his breath heavy and rough in your ear. You could feel his heartbeat against your back, erratic and wild.

Slowly, his grip on you loosened, his body relaxing as the intensity of the moment began to fade. His lips found the back of your neck again, this time softer, more tender, as he let out a deep sigh, still holding you close.

“Shit,” he muttered, his voice low and gravelly. “That was… fuckin' intense.”

You smiled, still trying to catch your breath, your body trembling with aftershocks. Logan finally pulled out of you, rolling onto his back beside you, his chest still rising and falling with deep, heavy breaths. His hand reached over, resting on your hip, fingers tracing lazy circles on your skin as the two of you lay there, tangled in the sheets.

For a while, neither of you said anything. The silence was comfortable, the room still thick with the heat of what just happened. You could feel Logan’s eyes on you, but when you glanced over, his gaze was softer, more thoughtful.

You turned to him, smiling lazily, still feeling the afterglow of everything. “Guess Wade was right, huh?” you teased, your voice playful, but Logan just grunted, rolling his eyes.

“Fuckin' Wade,” he muttered, shaking his head. “Bastard won’t shut up about this, will he?”

You laughed, the sound light in the quiet room, and Logan’s lips curved into a small smirk. There was a softness in his expression now, the rough edges smoothed out by the aftermath of it all, but even so, there was still that unmistakable Logan—fierce, untamed, and completely irresistible.

Logan shifted beside you, pulling you closer into his chest, wrapping his arm around you like he wasn’t ready to let go just yet. His warmth was comforting, and for once, you could feel the tension in him ease, as if, for now, he could just be in the moment with you.

You were still catching your breath, body limp against the sheets, when you felt Logan shift beside you.

And then, with a low, deep growl, Logan dipped his fingers into the wet heat where his cum was still dripping from you.

You shuddered, the sensation sending another jolt of pleasure through your overstimulated body. Your eyes fluttered shut for a moment, overwhelmed, but then you felt him lift his hand, slick with the evidence of what he’d left inside you.

He smirked, his fingers glistening with his release, and before you could say anything, he pressed them against your chest—right between your breasts. Slowly, deliberately, he smeared it across your skin, leaving a hot, wet trail in his wake. His touch was rough, teasing, and the way his eyes followed every movement made it even hotter.

“Look at you,” he muttered, his voice husky and low, almost like he was admiring his own handiwork. His hand slid higher, spreading the warmth across your chest, smearing his cum all over your skin, marking you with it. “Fuckin' perfect.”

Your breath hitched as he dragged his fingers down again, leaving no inch untouched. The way he moved was deliberate, slow, making sure you felt every second of it. The heat of his release mixed with the sweat already clinging to your skin, and the sight of Logan watching you, his gaze dark and possessive, only made you ache for more.

He leaned down, his mouth just barely brushing against your ear. “Mine,” he growled softly, his voice rough with need. “You’re mine.”

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b1rds3ye · 2 years ago

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Can you make a fic / short headcanon of how the COD men reacts to reader riding those bull mechanical? Their usual bar/pub has installed a new attraction which is that bull mechanical. Either they dared reader or reader wanted to try to ride, depends on the character. You know how those bulls move makes the rider look like they’re grinding?? Yeah I wanna know how the guys reacts to that 👀

OHOHOHOHO GOT IT thank you for sending in the request!! This is the first one this blog has gotten 🥳🥳 I hope you enjoy~

Ride On

The local bar has installed a mechanical bull for an extra activity among the drunk and whimsical. One day off duty, you decide to give it a go and have some fun, and it seems the boys are enjoying it just as much as you.

Characters: Captain John Price, Simon “Ghost” Riley, Johnny “Soap” MacTavish, Kyle “Gaz” Garrick, König

GN!Reader w/ no physical descriptions (except you're shorter than König)

Word Count: 2.5k (~500 each)

Genre: Fluff, Spice, established relationship

Warning: Spicy (but no smut), 18+/MDNI, awkward dialogue (it’s the cutest thing during flirty time fight me)

A/N: I don’t even write stuff that’s mildly spicy so I hope I did a decent job - also apparently mechanical bulls can do some real damage oh my god???

Captain John Price

On duty Price may be your direct superior but off duty you were more than free to do as you please even in his presence, he had always been clear about that. So he knew you were up to something when you sauntered up to him asking him for permission to go on the mechanical bull in the middle of the bar

He could only stare at your deceptively innocent smile for a moment before repeating the mantra that you could do what you want, his free hand automatically reaching into his pocket for a smoke as you strutted to the mechanical bull. You were going to be the death of him

He’s sure this is what emperors felt like in the days of old. Food, drinks, some very enticing entertainment and Price feels like he’s on cloud nine. Sitting by a table, he lounges back, thighs spread as he takes up the entire space of his seat and then some, feeling like a king as he watches you on the mechanical bull. He does not move, save for the occasional shift as his pants tighten

When you’re done riling him up, Price stays put as you approach him again. He can’t hide the incredible smugness he feels when the hungry eyes of strangers trail you, only to look at him in envy when they realise you’re already taken. He isn’t bothered by any of their stares, he can easily give any of them a piece of his mind

“You’ve got guts, love,” Price huffed out a puff of smoke. He remained seated by his table while you stood beside him, his face directly in line with your torso. His gaze travelled along every line and curve of your body that was so tantalisingly close, he could feel the body heat emanating from you. He stifled the urge to lick his drying lips.

“I did a good job though, right?” You beamed. He quirked an eyebrow at your sickeningly sweet voice. So you were going to keep up this charade, as if your face was only flushed from the physical exhaustion of remaining upright on the automaton and not from being so close but so painfully far away from him. Even in the darkness, he could see how your pupils swallowed your irises but he chose not to comment on it - he wasn’t faring any better.

“Passable. You’ve got two choices, sergeant.”

You swallowed, a shiver travelling down your spine as Price tilted his head down, idly extinguishing his cigar against the ashtray.

“Either you go back on the bull for some further training, give everyone here a sight for their sore, miserable eyes…”

Price regards you again, head up so that you could finally see his full face. Like a man lost for days in the desert, he gazed at you as if you were an oasis. Eyes lit up in awe, full of reverence, yet glazed over in carnal hunger.

“Or we leave this pub and you give me a private encore.”

Simon “Ghost” Riley

The instant he saw the new attraction he instinctively groaned under his breath. He already knew that you, Soap and Gaz will be provoking each other for some sort of competition. He’ll interfere if anyone seems uncomfortable but if it’s all smiles and laughs he’ll just quietly watch on with a mirth in his eyes reserved only for you and the task force (he will make a quip about you lot behaving like muppets though)

That being said, he already knows how suggestive a mechanical bull can look. When it’s decided that you’ll give it a go, Simon can only exhale slowly out of his mask, mentally preparing for an unexpected trial of restraint

He slinks back into the darkness of the bar, one with the shadows. His eyes shine like jewels as they reflect the treasure that is you. He drinks in the sight, committing it to memory. If from the bull you manage to see him in the gloom, his gaze is so intense it can single-handedly throw you off the automaton

Even off duty, he’s good at keeping his composure. When you return to him, you almost mistook him for being completely unfazed by your little stunt on the bull. But his voice is a little gruffer, the muscles in his throat straining with every syllable. He shows his neediness through his presence, you won’t be alone for the rest of the night as he accompanies you for even the smallest of errands

Rubbing your shoulder that was bruised from falling off of the bull, you beelined for the rest of the task force, only to get unexpectedly pulled towards the corners of the bar where the lights could not reach.

“Simon?” Your voice is barely above a whisper as you feel his hand splayed across your spine. He was never big on public displays of affection, he was possessive in that all of his love will be seen by you only. Daring a move like this has you turning to him in concern, but he didn’t seem uncomfortable in the slightest.

“We’ve got a problem.”

“And that is?”

Simon doesn’t reply, not verbally. He takes your hips in his hands, you can tell he’s trying his best to be gentle but his fingertips dig ever so slightly into your skin. Guiding you back to stand just in front of him, you grunted as you felt a hefty weight against your backside. Now that is a big problem indeed.

“Need you,” he rasps, voice so thick with air they were barely discernible words. You allowed him to pull you further against him, a guttural groan escaping him. “Fuck, didn’t know you could ride like that.”

“I’m a soldier of many talents,” you replied. He huffs against his face mask, digging his face into the crook of your neck. “I suppose I could go again. Just, not on the bull.”

Simon’s lips curved into a smile that warped the mask against your skin. His hands on your hips tighten, you won’t be escaping him anytime soon.

Johnny "Soap" MacTavish

When Johnny’s eyes settled on the mechanical bull, he then took a brief glance at you and his mind went places. This absolute menace is conjuring up a million and one ways to get you on that bull ASAP (with your wholehearted consent, of course)

He’ll do anything, making a dare, teasing you, trying to make a bet, just so he can see you mount that thing. He’s a dedicated man, once he has a goal he’s seeing it through, no matter how many playful slaps and lighthearted glares you give him. He’ll even set an example and go first - he’ll be flattered as hell if he can get you out of all people riled up

Johnny thinks he can handle it, but he’s always overestimating himself when it comes to you. He can’t play off how you’re bothering him as your hips slide forward and back against the saddle. He can only clear his throat uncomfortably and choke out a fake laugh when the rest of the 141 comment on how quiet he’s become

He bit off more than he can chew, he thought he was the smooth one for being blessed with such a sight but he’s finding himself more bewitched by you by the second. When you get off the bull he gives you a feeble punch on the shoulder, trying to act like he’s alright but really he’s completely at your mercy, hovering around you near begging you to give him attention

You didn’t even have time to greet him as Johnny pulled you away from the rest of the task force, down into a quiet corridor of the pub. His silence was unnerving, you asked him if something was wrong but his only response was his lips against yours. When you reciprocated, the Johnny you knew was back with you, smiling into the kiss with an exhale of eagerness into your mouth as he traps you against the wall with his body. His weight against you, it was already hard to get a breath in as he claimed your lips again and again and again. But what truly made you gasp was the hardness that brushed against your thigh. It was initially so brief, you could credit it as a phantom of your own lust, but as Johnny got bolder, it rested permanently against your upper leg.

Now that he made his predicament clear, he reluctantly pulled away from you, just enough for him to speak. His heaving breaths burned against your skin, no more than his azure eyes that bored into yours.

“I got another thing you can ride, aye?”

You burst into laughter as you gave him a playful shove on the chest. It did nothing push him off of you, his smile widening at your countenance.

“Johnny, that was awful.”

“I ain’t lyin’. My li'l MacTavish needs some help.”

“I swear to god I’m leaving you.”

“You know you love me. Now are you gonna help me or no?”

Kyle “Gaz” Garrick

Kyle has a playful streak, when he sees you eyeing the new attraction he’ll approach you with a mischievous glint in his eyes as he slides some cash to you. “This twenty says you won’t last five seconds on that.”

And with that, a light-hearted competition started. Kyle’s intentions were genuinely innocent, he just wanted to have some fun beyond drinking the night away. After you gave the bull a go he was wholly planning to try after you to show you how it’s done - and possibly impress you with superior balancing powers

It started off fun as you laughed at the odd movements of the bull under you and Kyle smiled with you. He’s willing to give up that twenty as you were clearly having fun

What he did not expect was how as the mechanical bull became more erratic, bucking indiscriminately in all directions that the sight seemed more… suggestive. A yelp of surprise from you has him situating himself behind a table, ensuring no one can see the growing issue below his hips

He dares a look at the rest of the task force who are taking in the sight innocently. Soap is shouting encouragements like a battle cry, Price pulls a face that’s a mix of amused and impressed, Ghost offers a single dip of the head in respect and now Kyle feels dirty, guilt mixing with arousal into a sinful concoction that drips down his tightening pants

As you returned back to the task force, Kyle immediately came up behind you. His arms wrapped around your waist, he sat his head on your shoulder, cheek against yours. With his entire body smothering yours, his whole being moved with every inhale and exhale of yours as you tried to recollect yourself after that exhausting ordeal of the mechanical bull.

“Getting touchy’s not going to make me forget about that twenty, Kyle,” you chided with a smile. You hear a little hmph as one of his hands dip into your pocket, resting over your hip bone. He slips the note in but his hand stays there, his thumb tracing over the wrinkles in your pants.

“You looked real nice up there, you know,” he mumbled into your ear before giving it a peck, arms tightening around you possessively.

“Feels like you enjoyed it,” you whispered, voice disappearing as you noticed something firm pressing against your ass. Your laugh came out far too weak. “Is that a pistol or are you happy to see me?”

He chuckled, husky and restrained, too distracted to reply. His hand in your pocket was becoming more animated, rubbing at your skin. Even through the fabric, you can feel how hot he is, only getting warmer as he gets more antsy, his free hand now tugging and teasing at your shirt.

Kyle spares a look at the rest of the task force, clearly distracted with their own drinking and antics.

“Do you think they’ll notice if we leave?”

“... No, let’s go.”

König

König will never ask you to go on the mechanical bull because he’d never go on it himself. Putting on a show for a whole lot of strangers in a pub? Potentially embarrassing himself in front of said strangers, his allies and you? The thought already fills him with dread and he is empathetic to never ask for such a thing from you. That being said, when it’s established you’re more than happy to give the bull a go, he’s not going to stop you

He knew how suggestive a mechanical bull can look but he figured he could handle it; he did not reach the rank of colonel by giving in to every temptation. But he should have known better when it came to you, your mere existence making him feel like he lost all composure and combat experience

Upon noticing the lustful stares of others, König doubles as a bodyguard. He slowly stalks around the bar, using his hulking figure to strategically block the view of you for others. He also takes note of anyone who seems a little too fixated on you, not hesitating to send a glare their way

Once you lose to the bull, he waits by the edge of the ring, taking your hand to escort you back to your friends. He does it both to be a caring partner for you, but also he’s preening as onlookers visibly deflate upon realising that if they want to get to you, they have to go through him

König’s hand was tight around yours, you could feel it occasionally twitch, aware of his own strength and trying to loosen his hold on you.

“Entschuldigung, mein Schatz,” he grumbled. “You wanted the night here, but I must leave.”

“Why?”

König turned his head away in embarrassment, but you noticed his eyes dipped lower for a split second. When you followed his gaze, you took a moment to pride yourself for getting your partner so riled up. It was only broken when he gently took your chin with his free hand, tilting it up - or just anywhere away from his growing predicament.

“It is embarrassing,” he muttered. “You were just having fun, but I am here… needing.”

“Not at all,” you smirked. “I wanted you to notice me.”

“I am always watching you, Schatz,” König whispered. He was getting bolder - or perhaps more desperate - with every word, the hand on your chin moving down to settle on one of your hips. You tilted your hips into his grip and the consequent breath he emitted was forceful and ragged. “I did not think such a machine could be so… crude.”

“But you liked the sight, right?” Your voice was smug as you pulled his face down to be in line with yours. You now had a perfect view of his eyes that were alight with lust, pupils blown so wide you could not distinguish if it was the gaze of a predator or prey.

“Zu viel.”

Call of Duty Masterlist

#cod x reader #call of duty x reader #cod x you #task force 141 x reader #captain price x reader #john price x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #john mactavish x reader #soap x reader #gaz x reader #kyle garrick x reader #könig x reader #könig x you #/*avery actually writes*/#/*avery checks the mailbox*/

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periprose · 2 years ago

Note

Logan’s reaction when you wear one of his shirts!

ahhhh anon the imagery that popped into my head with this one... thank you for requesting it <3 maybe a slight warning but Logan calls reader kid, (she's an adult) because he's obviously older than everyone. also smutty implications lol

"Kid. Is that my shirt?" Logan is not sure if he's just half-drunk already (it's nearly impossible for him to get drunk as it is on just a few beers) and you're wearing a big, oversized, Calgary Flames jersey.

He's fairly sure that's not yours- he doesn't think you know any Canadian hockey teams, not like that, and the jersey is definitely dated. Logan thinks he got that when the team was early in it's existence.

"Uhhh..." You turn from your spot in front of the kitchen fridge. The X-Mansion is out of milk and creamer, unfortunately. "Maybe? Sorry."

It's not your shirt that bothers Logan, not exactly. From this spot at the kitchen counter- he's leaning over, but he almost has the full view of your legs, because the shirt only meets the beginning parts of your thighs, and he wonders why on earth you have to be so annoyingly delectable. When Logan is trying his best to be professional, a proper X-Men member, you have to go and be half-naked, no pants, just luscious, sweet legs all taut and smooth as you reach upwards to scan through the upper shelf of the fridge.

You're too much for him, he thinks. If Logan was a slightly better person, he might not be having these thoughts at all, let alone considering acting on them- but he thinks about sneaking up behind you and grabbing, squeezing your ass, the back of your thighs.

"I think our laundry got mixed up like a week ago." You try your best to excuse it. Honestly, though? You were happy to steal Logan's jersey.

It's nice and comfy, and the material has worn away into a soft, loose shirt. Best of all, it smells just like him, after years of wearing it- a slight laundry detergent smell is there, but you mostly catch the smell of pine wood, mixed with cigar smoke and maybe something musky.

You didn't expect him to be down here- you didn't want Logan to know your terrible secret.

"And? You just decided you'd keep it, huh?" Logan grumbles, but he's mostly joking. His eyes are soft.

"I didn't-" You turn to him again, and you cross your arms, and it's with a little start that Logan realizes you're not wearing a bra. You're completely naked under there, other than your panties, and he gets a rush of exhilaration thinking about taking them off slowly, with his rough, callused fingers juxtaposed against your supple, soft hips. Gently squeezing your breasts as if he owns them.

There's something hot about it, Logan thinks. You wearing his shirt. As if he loaned it to you. As if he kind of owns you, as if he's your boyfriend. He can't help but feel a deep sense of pleasure. It's not as if all his hook ups and one night stands were clamoring to be his, and it's with fondness that he looks at you again.

"I thought I could give it back to you. After I wore it for a bit." You admit, and Logan has a slight smile.

"Keep it." Logan has a twinkle in his eye, his eyes glancing up and down your figure as he smirks. "It suits you, no pants and all."

He's not really joking about that- it looks way better on you, and to Logan's perverted mind, it is fascinating how this jersey he fills out so well, had a completely different style as it falls on you. It sort of drowns you- leaves your figure to the imagination- but there's just enough that he can see how it skims over your curves, making it easier for him to imagine running his hands over you. Logan thinks about lifting it up from the bottom hem, exposing you.

You turn red, almost forgetting that your legs are bare, and you don't know how to respond to that.

"Really?" You shake your head, ignoring Logan's compliment, knowing that he's just teasing. "Thanks, Logan. It honestly helps me sleep better."

You didn't mean to say that last part- you're not trying to expose the year long crush you've had on the guy- and you stutter over your words, trying not to reveal the comfort you feel around him.

You shut the fridge, and try to leave, but Logan is a little faster, and he's got you right where he wants. Against the fridge. Looking up at him, sweet, meek, just as cute as he remembers.

He leans over you. "Well, I could help you sleep better. If you want."

"Really?" You look up at him, tilting your head a little. "I thought you would think I was just some creep and tell me to fuck off."

"Oh, kid. You think you're the only one who can't stop thinking about us?" Logan swallows. "I think I've liked you since you had to help me figure out the teaching schedule, remember?"

"Who could forget? You were really struggling- your class started an hour late." You joke, and Logan grins. He's not usually such a smiley guy, and it's not something you take light-heartedly. You know he must trust you.

"Offer's still on the table." Logan murmurs, as he traces the collar of his jersey, against your neck and collarbones, and you shiver as he leans in, pressing a kiss on your forehead. It's warm, soft, inviting- but you think Logan must be holding himself back.

"Okay." You whisper up at him, and Logan, being as devious as he is, immediately grasps your waist, your ass, your thighs, squeezing, wanting to feel every bit of flesh, and he feels a deep rumble in his chest- something possessive as he leans in and kisses you, something firm and rough as he feels his shirt around you- and Logan's mouth slots against your own quite easily, open-mouthed, rough kisses that have you shuddering, as he lifts you up, wrapping your legs around his waist and pinning you against the fridge.

You know Logan didn't mean sleeping. He meant putting you to sleep, by sleeping with you, and this silly double meaning, the idea of getting to do all that and then cuddle and sleep by his side, it makes you smile against his mouth.

Logan doesn't stop kissing you as he lifts you up and away, you still wrapped around him, towards his room, feeling an immense amount of slick, lustful pride that he's bringing back his shirt and his girl there.

#logan howlett x reader #logan x reader #wolverine x reader #wolverine x you #logan howlett x you #james logan howlett x reader #wolverine #drabbles #request #x-men x reader #x men #x-men #logan howlett #asks #logan howlett fluff #logan howlett smut #fluff #smut

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the-californicationist · 5 months ago

Text

Friday Night Magic

AO3 Link -- I'm pretty sure this was an old ask, but I don't have the original request anymore. Sorry!

Your husband of many years, John Price, has been keeping your secret: you love it when he plays doctor, giving you a happy little pill that makes you really sleepy, really fast. The best part is that you never know how you’ll be woken up. But, when he suggests that you can still play together even while he’s in the middle of hosting game night with his mates, you decide to trust in the fact that the doctor really does know best.

TW: non-consensual sex, drugged sex, nc-somno, rape, gangbang, betrayal, anal and vaginal sex, references to past rape events

His hand was doing nothing for him, and John hadn’t drawn a usable spell in the past six turns. He was mana-screwed and bored with his lieutenant’s penchant for playing control decks. But, it was Friday, and that’s all that mattered. The tired captain always looked forward to Fridays when they were off-mission. It meant that he got to drink through his whiskey collection, smoke way too damn many cigars, and play Magic: the Gathering with his mates. All work and no play makes John a dull boy, after all.

Friday nights also meant that you were tucked away in your room, playing with yourself while your man played cards, often overstimulating yourself to the point of tears so that when he was ready to fuck you, his cheeks pink and his breath smelling of whiskey and tobacco, he could go for hours, his fat dick drowning in the milky mess you’d made. He was like your very own sex machine, pounding away at your drooling hole, half-drunk and eager to have you in every position he could dream of.

Sometimes, though, John’s Friday nights were extra special. Right now, he couldn’t even concentrate on the game. He just wanted to check on you to see if he was about to get a very rare kind of lucky. Fingers crossed, he excused himself from the table and padded into his bedroom, nudging the door open a crack to see where you were.

You were laying in bed atop your plush blanket, dressed in a matching mesh set, a pale pink bra and crotchless panty, lazily touching yourself with your deft fingers and reading smut on your phone. You didn’t even remove your hand from your clit when he walked in, continuing to swirl slow circles around its sensitive head, rolling your hips just a little to help you feel the slow, delightful drag of your pleasure.

“Hey, pretty bird,” John purred, sitting beside you, feeling the mattress sink under his weight.

“Hey, baby. You done with your game?” You asked, peeked up over the edge of your phone before turning back to your scrolling.

“Not yet,” John leaned forward and kissed your nipple through the fabric of your bra, the thin mesh letting you feel the hot, wet whisper of his tongue.

You moaned for him, a lovely, ragged sound. It awakened something mean and primal in his chest. You pouted a bit when he pulled away, your bottom lip bulging out and showing him a small frown,

“I thought you wanted to play doctor tonight.”

Jackpot. John was a lucky man, indeed. He felt the blood from his core rush down to his prick, making his flesh instantly start to swell. He loved playing doctor.

“We can still play,” he began to tease you, snaking his hand up your ankle and calf, his palm warming your skin.

“Aren’t your mates still here?” You asked, a hint of scandal in your tone.

John cocked an eyebrow, questioning your inquiry, a bit put out by your resistance,

“Don’t you wanna take your medicine, love?” His hand slipped slowly over the meat of your inner thigh, his longest fingers reaching just past the seal of your lips, barely dipping into your swollen, drooling hole, “Feels like you’ve got a fever.”

“You think so?” You smiled coyly up at him, putting down your phone and playing with your nipples in front of him, pinching and shaking them back and forth through the pink fabric.

John nodded, “I think you should take a pill, yeah? Better nip this in the bud before you get sick, sweetheart.”

“The doctor knows best!” You winked at him and rooted around in the bottom of your beside table.

You pulled out a little purple pill bottle, tipped the lid, and placed a white tablet in his open palm. John removed his other hand from between your legs and used the fingers that had been inside of you to gently lift the pill to your lips.

“Say ahh,” he commanded, almost all of the softness gone from his voice.

“Ahh…” You made a long noise with your throat, tipping your head back and sticking out your tongue. When you felt the pill land in place, you flipped it under your tongue to allow it to dissolve.

“Good girl,” John praised you, letting you suckle on his slick-covered fingers as you liked, enjoying how you were sucking him down to his knuckles as if you were practicing for his cock. Then, once the pill was gone, you released his hand and kissed his palm, the sticky sheen of your lip gloss making a little popping noise as you did.

“Thank you, doctor. I know you’ll make me feel so much better,” you smiled,

“I will, sweetheart. Come say goodnight to the boys.”

“Okay, but I need my robe,” you said, your voice laced with heavy apprehension. John wasn’t asking, though, and he helped you stand up from the bed, taking your phone and wrapping your silk nightgown around you, doing the bare minimum for your modesty.

You fixed yourself in your vanity mirror and followed John out into the main room, holding the robe tight against your body as you emerged.

“Hey, bonnie,” Soap’s face lit up, “Good to see ya.”

“You, too! Just wanted to come say good night before I went off to bed.”

“Oh, no. You gotta join us for a game, babes. It’s been too long,” Gaz chided you playfully, grabbing you by the shoulder and guiding you to the table.

You looked up at John for help. But, he knew exactly what he was doing. He knew you only had a few more minutes before the pill would start to take effect, and he also knew that you were way too shy to tell them the truth about your naughty little habit.

What could you say? Oh, sorry, I can’t play tonight. I took an extra-strength sleeping pill because I want my husband to fuck me while I’m helpless and knocked out cold.

John smiled, watching you squirm and rack your brain for any and every excuse to back out,

“Oh, no, there’s no more chairs. I’ll just —“

“Si’ down,” Simon said curtly, grabbing your hip and pulling you down onto his lap, letting your legs straddle one of his huge thighs, “You can play my hand, Mrs. Price.”

The fact that your robe had ridden up your legs almost to reveal your thick asscheeks was only a secondary concern. The primary one was that your well-rubbed pussy was already leaving a damp stain on Simon’s jeans. His thigh was as hard as a stone, heavy with muscle, and he was holding your hip hard enough to keep you fully pressed to him. The only movement you could make was to grind back against him, which you had to do every time you lost your balance on his leg.

You tried your best to pay attention to the game, but you were struggling to stay alert. The pill’s effects were making your head foggy and your eyes droop. Your fingers were too weak to hold the cards, and when they dropped from your hand, your husband’s smile turned sinister.

“Feelin’ alright there, love?” Gaz asked, a hint of teasing in his voice.

“Um…” You tried to form a sentence, but the words wouldn’t come out.

“Felt a bit under the weather earlier, wasn’t she? Took her pill, though. Makes her a bit drowsy,” Price explained, sitting next to Simon, rubbing your back, not seeming to care that his hands were shifting the collar of the robe out of place and making it hang down your shoulder, revealing the top of your sheer bra to the whole room.

You tried to fix it, but you were slowly losing control of your arms, feeling like you were floating in a dreamy sea.

“Dinnae fash, hen,” Johnny grinned, folding his hand on the table, “We’ll tuck you in, won’t we, lads?”

“Aye, that we will,” Simon’s voice was deep and low, spoken right into your ear.

You looked up at John for help, realizing that he wasn’t going to save you. You thought he would scoop you up and take you back to bed, or at least make some excuse and send his men home, but no. He was letting them pull at your robe so that it hung around your waist, watching them reveal your ample tits in your see-through bra, doing nothing but looking pleased as could be.

“John…” You slurred, feeling yourself slip away to a drugged sleep, hearing his words right before your head fell to the table in front of you,

“Sweet dreams, love.”

You were gone from the world, floating in between being awake and being asleep. And it almost seemed like you could feel yourself being fucked. The pleasure was there, and yet, you couldn’t move or scream. You couldn't open your eyes. But, John would never allow that to happen. It was just a dream, right?

When you first awoke in one of your windows of consciousness, you were still at the table, but something was… wrong. You hadn’t moved from Simon’s lap, but now, he was moving you. You were split over his cock, and he was buried, balls-deep in your pussy, fondling your breasts under your mesh bra. The others were laughing, talking, joking, carrying on their game, but their eyes leered at you like hyenas waiting their turn to sink their teeth into the neck of a caught gazelle.

“Mmngh, ungh,” you tried to speak, but you sounded drunk, “John?”

“No, princess,” Simon snarled in your ear, “Your big man’s lettin’ us jump the line, yeah? Nice of him, innit? Fuck, I love Fridays.”

“What?” You were so confused. Why was Simon talking as if this had happened before? You were so ashamed, and John was right beside you. How could he let this happen? “John… Please…”

You tried to reach out to him, but your arms only lifted to his knee, trying to grab at his shirt or hand, anything to make him help you. Simon’s dick was steadily pounding into your swollen cunt, and John was just smoking his cigar and laughing at your feeble attempts to get free.

“Hush, now, love. Riley loves playin’ doctor, just like me. In fact, the boys have been takin’ good care of you every time they stop by, haven’t you?”

“Aye,” Johnny held his whiskey up to you as if to give you a toast, his eyes wide and full of a sick sort of hunger, “That bonnie cunt gets me through the week, lass. And ye keep it so wet for us. Such a good wee missus you’ve got, Cap’n.”

“Can’t thank you enough for the hospitality, Mrs. Price,” Gaz nodded to Soap, agreeing with his crude statement, taking another swig of his drink as his other hand moved under the table, moving rhythmically, obviously jerking himself off to the sight of you being speared on Simon’s big dick.

Suddenly, you felt Simon’s hands grip your hips on both sides of your body, holding you down onto the base of his cock, and you knew that he was about to come. You squirmed, wishing you could muster up any kind of strength, feeling as if you were still dreaming,

“No… No! Stop… Please… Don’t come in me…”

John cupped your cheek as his lieutenant dumped load after load of his sticky come into your body, his cock pulsing inside of you like a heartbeat, each throb of its huge shaft was another thick pool of his spend, turning your stomach and bringing desperate tears to the corners of your eyes.

“Shh, shh, shh,” John purred, “Take the medicine Riley’s givin’ you, love. It’ll make you feel so much better. You want mine next, hm? Will that make it right, pretty girl?”

“Unghhh…” You felt your body betray you, your pussy needing to come. Simon had one of his hands working quick, lurid circles around your clit, and now he was dragging you to a climactic peak, forcing you to come on his spent cock.

As you felt yourself spin out of control, your legs began to shake, giving away your moment of pleasure to the whole table.

“That’s a good girl,” John praised you, brushing a stray lock of hair out of your face.

“Fuck, she’s so wet. I think she likes an audience, Cap,” Simon observed, planting sloppy kisses onto your neck as you trembled from the aftershocks of your bliss.

They barely allowed you to cool down before John said,

“C’mere, love. My turn.”

Simon lifted you off of his lap with Price’s help, your robe fluttering to the floor. Your husband turned you on your back, laying you on the table across the cold wood and stacks of strewn playing cards. You tried to roll away, tried to sit up, but it was no use. The drugs had their hold on you, and you felt yourself fading back into a deep sleep.

Just before the blackness took you, you saw John lining up his fat, drooling cock at your entrance, sliding his head through Riley’s come with little resistance.

“Mmm-fuck. You’re so tight even after Riley’s prick, love. This pussy can just take so much cock, huh? Perfect girl.”

You slipped away into sleep yet again, and it seemed like you had only been out for a few minutes. You woke again in the same position, with your husband brutally pounding away at your hole, stuffing himself inside with wet, slick, slapping sounds.

Hands were roughly groping your tits from the other side of the table, none of which belonged to your husband, and as they played with your nipples, they began to pinch and pull at them, making you cry out.

“Look who’s awake again,” John cooed, his voice laced with farcical pity, “Don’t worry. You’ll get Johnny and Kyle soon enough.”

You couldn’t hold on. You tried to struggle against the shadowy slumber that pressed down on all your senses, but it was no use.

When you woke up again, you were in bed. Your pillow and blanket were gone, but you recognized the soft sheets. Then, you realized you were moving. The whole mattress was shaking back and forth, and Johnny was behind you, shoving his leaking dick into your asshole.

“Unghff-fuck! You back among the living, bonnie? Your tight little hole just grabbed me like a fuckin’ vice.”

“S-s-stop. Please…” You managed to whisper, your throat feeling sore for some reason. You tried not to think about why that would be.

“Cannae stop, lass. Your man’s dead set on findin’ the cure for what ails you, and I’m here to help. Based on how wet your wee slit has become, I think we’re on the right track.”

Just when you heard his words tease you about your wetness, you felt his fingers slip inside of your pussy, three of them, cruelly thick, following his cock’s rhythm, stretching you wider than you’d ever been in your whole life.

You tried to cry out, to scream, to call for help, but it was no use. So, you melted into his efforts instead, feeling your muscles flutter against him, threatening to make you come from his anal sex. He didn’t seem to notice your mounting pleasure, or if he did, he didn’t much care. He just continued to thrust into your holes, slamming his stocky weight into you, making your cheek sink into the mattress as you lay face-down, ass-up for your husband’s best friend.

The last thing you heard as you fell into unconsciousness was Johnny’s moans, and his comment of surprise,

“Oh, bonnie girl. You gonna come for me? Fuck, yes…”

Your next moment of lucidity was in the living room. You were on the couch. Well, your face was laying against the crook of someone’s neck, your forehead pushing into the fabric upholstery, as you were being fucked in their lap on the sofa. You tried to lift yourself to see what was happening to you, and as you did, you saw that you were riding Simon again, straddling his legs as he fucked his cock up into your dripping hole from below. His mouth was suckling from your nipple, your bra missing, latched on and unwilling to let go, leaving little hickies behind as his teeth teased the sensitive nub.

But, he wasn’t alone. There was… something… happening to your asshole. You craned your neck to see Kyle standing behind you, fucking his long dick into your ass as Simon pounded into you from below.

You let out a long moan, the pleasure that you’d been receiving clearly coursing through you despite your lack of consent. You had been coming and coming and coming, and you hadn’t been awake for any of it.

“Holy shit,” Garrick growled, his grip on your flank tightening hard enough to bruise, “She’s gonna come again. Can’t fuckin’ believe it. Feels so goddamn good.”

“Fuck,” Simon popped his mouth away from your chest to lean his head back, relaxing as he rode the waves of your impromptu orgasm, “Oh, look. She’s awake.”

Kyle’s huge hand fisted your hair and pulled you back so he could see your face,

“I dunno. I wouldn’t call that awake. How much did she take?”

“Cap gave her two more when she was with him and Soap, so we’ve got time, Sergeant. Don’t we, love?” Simon grabbed your face without care, squeezing your cheeks and making you look at him through hooded, tired eyes, “Oh, yeah, we do. All the time in the world.”

Fic #99 is in the bag... next one will be #100! Thanks to everyone for supporting me through my absolute descent into madness. lol

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justevelynnnn · 4 months ago

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Need that

💋 Logan x blk!fem reader 💋

Summary: You’re a young woman in need of an older man. Specifically, that man that is staying with Wade.

Warnings: Profanity, mentioning of reader being a sugar baby, sexually explicit scenes, PiV, no protection, fingering, smoking, age gap (reader is 21)

A/N: Hugh Jackman// older Logan is why I have a current dilf obsession

Minors do not interact.

You noticed the new—and may you add hot—new neighbor walking into Wade’s apartment one day you got home from a shift at the bar. You work in the day because more reckless drunks come at night.

The only thing about this man was, well he was older. You were only 21 but he looked an easy late 40s, early 50s. However, that’s just your type. And Wade made fun of you for it all. the. time.

You were somewhat a beginner sugar baby; sleeping with older men for money. But honestly the money was a cherry on top for you.

Wade caught you walking a man out one morning before he went to work himself and completely scared him off with his usual eccentric antics. You quickly explained to him after the man ran off that he wasn’t hurting you, that you let him in.

“Ohhh, so you like fucking dilfs?”

“Why are you always so crude with how you talk, geez-“

“Hey, you know risqué humor is my thing! Literally Deadpool’s staple! How else will i keep my viewers entertained during my filler episodes?” He put his hands on his hips but you just looked at him wildly confused.

From that day forward though he always finds a way to bring it up.

You could tell his new roomate, or whoever that was, wasn’t too well off. You had a way of noticing of an older man has wealth or not. But it was okay. You made enough at the bar to pay for rent, the money from being a sugar babe was just extra.

Although, the extra money did help you finally buy a car so Wade didn’t have to keep dropping you off while also blasting ridiculous music on purpose.

After you saw the older man, you made numerous efforts to see him again. You tried to watch and see if he had some kind of routine. He didn’t. You did catching smoking cigars in the evening, before it got too dark.

So that’s when you emerged from your apartment. Doing anything. Sweeping by your front door, taking laundry to the laundry room, pretending you were on the phone or just walking downstairs. It was kind of pathetic.

One evening, you heard Wade’s door opening and closing, knew it was him. Your newest obsession. You threw on a crop top and some loose pajama shorts that kinda rode up and grabbed your laundry basket. There wasn’t much in it so you just threw some clean clothes in and walked out.

As you passed him you just said, “Good evening..”

While he did acknowledge you by glancing your way, he just grumbled. But you still melted inside. Oh, this would be a hard fish to catch but that made it so much more worth it.

You needed him.

Little did you know, Wade was watching you too. Through the peep hole of his own door of course to not make himself obvious.

When you came back to your apartment door with the basket, Wade was already outside it. Like head waiting for you.

“Oh, hey-“

“Don’t hey me missy-“ Wade said as he walked up to you, head tilted. “Don’t think i don’t see what you’re trying to do..”

You blushed. Did he know? You decided to try and play it off.

“What do you mean? Do what?”

A snort. “I’ve seen how you’ve been ogling my wolvie. I know that look.”

“Wolvie? You mean your new roommate?”

“Obviouslyyy, sista. I saw him first! Finders keepers!”

You give up. Why fight it. “I’m sorry. He just so..i mean where did you fine him?”

“Trust me, he’s from out of this world.”

He winked as you tilt your head now, not knowing how truthful he’s being since it’s normally a hit or miss with Wade. “Look- just don’t tell him…okay? It’ll be so embarrassing.”

“You’ve already embarrassed yourself.” He points at your basket. “You wash your clothes without detergent? He already peeped that. Asked me if it’s provided in the room and whatever. That’s when i knew what was happening.”

You felt your face get hot as you realized he was right.

“Look, if you wanted me to hook you guys up why didn’t you just ask? I know he’s your type. Hot daddy and all. Sharing is caring I guess… Plus, he really needs some pussy. That guy is pent up!”

“Wadeee!” You whine embarrassed even more. He was being too loud..

“What? Let me work my magic. Here, i already have a great idea…”

An enticing offer. You listen as he tells you his master plan to helping you get what you want.

You spray on some perfume behind your ears and on your neck as you look yourself in the mirror. You wore a f/c backless satin dress and some simple jewelry.

As you reached for your lipstick you heard a knock at your door. You opened it expecting Wade but instead saw…

“Hey. …Um. Wade told me he left something here and i’m just here to get it.” The gruff looking man looked over your figure. Noticing how the color of your dress complimented your darker skin. How your eyes looked up into his innocently through your lashes.

“Oh, yeah yeah sure. Come on in and i’ll get it.” You step to the side as he hesitantly walked in. “Shouldn’t be long.”

As you closed the door, the man continues to stare at you.

“What’s the occasion?” He asked sitting on your couch. You noticed his manspread and felt your heart skip a beat.

“Oh, nothing too crazy…just meeting some guy.” You winked.

“Must be a damn lucky guy…I mean..”

“Oh, it’s okay…thank you.” You pretend to look around a bookshelf to this thing Wade “forgot”. It was hard not to slightly tremble under this man’s intense stare. He was different from other older guys. He looked at you like he was somewhat hungry.

“Hm, i must’ve misplaced it..do you have time?”

He just nods.

He looked at the couple of lit candles you had in your living room, setting a calm almost romantic atmosphere.

As you continue to “look” around you broke the ice.

“Um, so..how’d you meet Wade anyways?” You turn to look at him who you noticed was probably staring at your behind.

“Longggg story. H’bout you?”

“Just my crazy neighbor. Had him dropping me off at work before i had a car.”

“Mhm. Mind if i light?” He asked grabbing a cigar and lighter from his pocket. You didn’t mind because it’s was him so you just said yes but anyone else would’ve gotten a hard ass no.

As he lights it and takes his first puff he mumbled, “Heard a lot about you..”

Oh? What could Wade have possibly done now.

“Oh? Like what?”

He chuckled. Smirked at you and said, “You have a thing for older guys?”

Another puff.

You freeze. Damn it. Why would tell him anything like that? How could this be part of the plan?

“Um, well…”

“Bit scandalous, don’t you think? Pretty young thing like you…getting with old men. Y’think they deserve you?” His lids lower. It’s a lustful stare. You could tell form a mile away.

“Maybe…maybe the lucky ones..” You slowly approach him. He rubs his thigh. He was just in a robe again but as he sat it only covered up to this mid thigh. Almost leaving little to the imagination.

“W’daya consider lucky, hm?”

“Maybe the ones that make it inside my apartment.“

He takes another drag from his cigar as he reaches for your hand and pulls you into his lap. “Yeah? So am i lucky then?”

You nod as you blush at the new closeness. His hand rests on your back slowly moving up and down. There’s some movement under his robe, a tent forming.

“There’s no guy….is there? Unless…” He takes the cigar out after puffing one more time. “Unless it’s me. Hmm?~”

You bite your lip as his other hand goes to the other side of your back. He holds you in place as he licks his lips. The smell of cigar smoke, his hand placement, him. All so intoxicating. You start to squirm in his grasp wanting any kind of friction.

“Aht, aht- We have all night, baby. I want to enjoy this.”

You eye his salt and pepper beard and his chest hair that was the same colors. Another small detail about older guys you absolutely loved.

“What’s your name, doll?” He whispered.

“Y/n…what’s yours?”

“You’ve been lusting for me but you don’t even know my name?”

You look down slightly embarrassed but hear him say, “Logan.”

“Logan..” you quietly repeat. “Can i kiss you Logan?”

You rest a hand on his cheek, feeling the roughness of his beard hair, staring into his hazel eyes. God, do you want to ride that nose.

He nodded as you quickly leaned in. Soft lips against his slightly chapped ones. You moan as you shift on top of his hard-on under his robe. He groans and holds you in place.

“Baby, i won’t be able to control myself if you keep that up.” He warned.

“Good.” It’s all you say as you pull the dress off. You wore nothing underneath which took Logan by surprise. Your soft looking brown skin being lit up by the sunlight peeking through the window turned him on even more which he thought was impossible. He took you in. Eyes looking over every curve.

“Fuck.” Was all he could say.

His hands travel to your breasts, squeezing a bit. It was then he felt the wetness on his thigh as you mindlessly rode his thigh. His hands traveled back down, over your stomach and hips. One stayed while the other made its way south between your legs.

You gasp as he teases your clit, gathering some slight accumulated there. Gazing at it he muttered, “So wet for me already…I could smell you a mile away…”

You bit your lip and rode his thigh even more as you watched him lick his finger. A deep groan emitted from him as he undid the sash holding together the robe and revealed himself to you. He was definitely fit for his age. And also covered in hair, chest to…well that. You noticed it was thicker than average. Girthy. An angry vein you noticed next to his happy trail, going right to it. The deep rose tip leaked and leaked.

You never wanted to suck a dick so bad in your life.

He reached down between your legs again as he explored your slick folds. You moaned as he teased your entrance, maintaining eye contact the entire time. As he slipped inside, you rested your head against his shoulder and whined. Slowly you reached for his dick and started jerking him off to the same rhythm he fingered you.

Silently, this went on for a few minutes. The room filled with moaning and groaning and slick sounds but stopped as you felt yourself getting close. You clenched around his middle finger, whining at a higher pitch as he pulled out quickly.

“Why?” You cried.

“I wanna feel that on my cock.”

Your heart skipped a beat as he said that, you let go of him and he positioned you over his tip.

One unspoken look of “Are you sure/ready?” and you nodded immediately.

He slowly lowered you down as he stretched you out. It burned. Not horribly. Almost a good burn but still regardless a burn paired with a stretch. Definitely the thickest you’ve ever had.

You squeezed his shoulders as he stopped and looked over your face for any sign of pain or wanting to quit. You muttered a “M’fine.” And he stilled waiting for a cue to continue.

The gentleness only turning you on more, getting you even more wet. As the pain subsided and you got used to his size, you nodded. He started again but slowly. Hands squeezing your ass as he moved you up and down and up and down…

The pleasure was incredible as you moaned loudly quickly not caring who could hear you. His pace quickened hearing this, groaning and growling almost animalistically.

Skin-slapping and squishing sounds filled you guys ears as he continued thrusting.

A slap on the ass got you to look at him and gasp playfully. The pain made you squeeze his length for a second as he growled and grunted at you to squeeze him again and again.

Once he heard his name coming out your mouth like a broken record he knew you were close.

“That’s it baby. Go ahead, cum on my cock. Fuck-”

He says it into your ear as he quickened the pace even more getting rougher. A few seconds later you’re trembling intensely as you crawled out his name one more time. You secretly loved this part. It was like nothing else mattered. Pure euphoria.

“Ah, fuck. Good girl. Good, good…” His pace starts to get out of rhythm as he nears his own orgasm.

As you plop onto his shoulder he finishes too, warm spurts filling you and coating your walls. You noted to force Wade to get you a plan b later as you both panted and huffed.

“Fuck, i needed that.” Logan says out of breath. “This is the one good thing that idiot did for me.”

Puzzled you looked up. “So he told you about the plan too?”

“Too?”

Then all of a sudden you hear clapping coming from outside your door.

“Bravo! Bravo! I have never heard a better fuck session in my life! And that, is saying something coming from me!”

It was Wade.

“Did he just listen to us have sex????” You say annoyed but definitely not surprised. “Wow, Wade.”

“Motherfucker. I’m gonna kill him.” Logan muttered.

“Yeah, sure, kill the guy who finally got you some freaking puss! You shouldddd be thanking me you ungrateful hairball!”

Logan rolled his eyes, he pulled out of you completely soft now as you whined at the emptiness.

You grabbed a towel you had nearby and started to wipe yourself and Logan off.

A minute of resting later you said, “We should thank him by the way. You are pretty good.” You whispered as he got up and put the robe sash back on, tying it.

“Hm.” Was all he said. You threw the dress back on and walked him to the door.

Just before he opened it he looked at you again.

He looked like he wanted to say something but couldn’t figure out what to say.

“Wanna make a this a weekly thing?” You smiled.

“Sure. But i wanna do more than jus’ fuck you, princess.”

You blush. “Oh..okay. Friday? 7?”

He nodded and opened the door. Wade was still there.

“Fuck out the way, Wade.” He grumbled.

“Hey! Where’s my thank you? On top of all else, i got you a date!” Wade crossed his arms but Logan just pushed past him, rolling his eyes, cussing at him once more and walked to their apartment door. “Can you believe him??!”

You laughed and thanked Wade. Once Logan was inside the apartment you whispered to him, “Oh, and by the way, you owe me a plan b. Like, now.”

“What?! Did he- inside?!?” Wade pushed your shoulder playfully. “I’m not surprised with him but with you?! Don’t you know about wrapping it up?! So irresponsible!”

“Whatever, Wade. Come on.”

“Okay, just wait here, i’ll go grab my keys.” Wade said before running over to the door and running inside.

As you watched him run inside you leaned on the wall and sighed. Already reminiscing about your time with Logan. Wade came back out with keys and wallet in hand.

As you guys walked out the complex he immediately said, “Okay, now you have to tell me all about it. Don’t spare details!”

“Wade!-” You started.

“You thinking i can’t handle it?!”

You laughed as you guys walked to the corner store and started tell Wade all the details about your evening with Logan.

#i’m going insane #logan howlett x reader #wolverine is so fine #logan howlett smut #x black reader #x black fem reader #logan howlett #wolverine smut #wolverine x reader #wolverine x black reader #x men x reader #logan howlett fanfiction #needthat #please #justevelynnnn

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saccharinesatoru · 4 months ago

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Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy (m)

Pairing: Gojo x reader (afab)

Genre: cowboy!gojo x bandit!reader + smut

Word count: 5.5k

Summary: You're just an innocent girl who got caught up in a crime. You've never broken the law before and are desperate to stay out of jail. Lucky for you, Sheriff Gojo has just the solution.

Warnings: language, coersion (lowkey highkey), oral (m and f receiving), fingering (f receiving), degradation, praise (like if you squint), penetration (m in f), just really rough sex lmao, maybe typos idk I didn't proofread this

a/n: surprisingly,,,, I'm not dead. i am back. i saw the fanart of cowboy!gojo and never wanted to ride something so badly- and i’m not talking about a horse. oh and i also know little to nothing about cowboys or even the time period that cowboys existed in so i’m sorry if i like,,, get the cowboy lore incorrect lmao enjoy

xx Jay

---

You were fucked. And, fuck, did you know it.

“You idiot!” you cursed, “Do you wanna die? How could you be so stupid?”

Your partner in crime (literally) turned to you with a crazed grin on his face, high on the rush. “What? Don’t tell me you’re scared of some little sheriff.”

The sheriff, in question, is none other than Gojo Satoru. Not only was he the youngest sheriff in the region, but he was an incredible shot and phenomenal horseback rider. The man was known all throughout the west for his strength, wit, and impeccable skill as a marksman. And he just so happened to be the man hunting you down as you speak.

“Am I scared? Am I scared?” you yell in disbelief, “Hell fucking yeah I’m scared! You just had to rob that bank, didn’t you? Toji, this is insane. We’re going to die, and it’s all because you wanted a little extra cash to blow at some saloon since you’re shit at cards and are always too drunk to make a reasonable gamble!”

His eyes widened at your statement, “I’m just down on my luck that’s all!”

You roll your eyes and continue pacing around the small room, almost internally counting down the minutes until you're inevitably caught and thrown in a cell to rot. Maybe Toji could tough it out in jail (assuming he wasn’t hanged for his crimes), but you knew you weren’t cut out for that kind of life. It’s not like you meant to get caught up in this life, after all. A few bad decisions led to this nightmare of a reality, and now you were about to ride this sinking ship with the buffoon in front of you who was pushing 40 and still thought it was a good idea to devote the little cash he had on reckless gambling instead of caring for the adorable, perpetually scowling son he left behind to pursue a life of crime.

“Don’t give me that look, doll,” his tone is sickly sweet but showing no real affection or warmth. “Don’t forget that you’re an accomplice in this crime too. Who was in the carriage waiting for me when I ran out of the bank with the cash, huh? Oh, that’s right! It was you!”

Running your fingers through your hair, you sit down and rest your head in your hands. “Don’t remind me, asshole,” you spit out, tone equally as harsh. “You think I wanted this? I didn’t know you were gonna do that shit! I owed you a favor- one favor, Toji! What, you think because I owed you one, I wanted to spend the rest of my life looking over my shoulder for the most feared sheriff in the west? Believe it or not, but I don’t want to live this way!”

He huffs and sticks a cigar in his mouth, lighting it and letting out a puff of smoke before meeting your eyes again, “Well, tough shit, doll. This is the hand you were dealt, and now you’ve gotta decide whether or not you’re gonna fold.”

You roll your eyes, sensing a migraine coming on. “Shut the fuck up with your poker references, Toji. You’re not good enough at any card game to warrant that kind of talk.”

“Bitch,” he mutters under his breath.

You turn around and are about to rip into him when you hear the sound of incoming horses and a voice call out, “They’re just up ahead!”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Toji curses as he puts out his cigar and stands up hastily. He looks around the room frantically and meets your eyes before darting out of the shared space.

“Fuck! Toji, come back!” you shout as you rush after him. You’re not all that well-versed on running from the police given you’ve literally never had a reason to do so. To say you’re relying on Toji to get you two out of this predicament is an understatement. After all, that man has committed more crimes than interacted with his own son.

Running out of the room and following his footsteps, you exit out the backdoor. Your jaw drops to the ground at the sight in front of you. Toji sat on top of your very own horse, grabbing her by the reins and turning to you with a devilish smirk on his face. “Sorry, doll, I gotta cut ties here. ‘Can’t afford to get caught, you know? I’m sure you understand. Let me borrow your horse, yeah? I owe ya one.”

You can’t even fully process his words, you’re seeing red with the amount of rage consuming you. Frozen in place, you watch Toji ride away on your horse, effectively abandoning the house that was about to be raided by police.

Toji gets a fair distance away from the house before you hear the same voice yell, “There he is! You lot track him down. I’ll stay back and search the rest of the house. He had an accomplice. I’m sure they’re hiding out here somewhere.”

As soon as the man is done speaking, you hear multiple horses run off in Toji’s direction. You’re scared shitless of what’s to come. You just know the man about to search the house is the famous sheriff you had just been professing your fear of to that backstabbing bum who stole your fucking horse. Even though you know you’re thoroughly, laughably, undeniably fucked, you can’t help but laugh internally at the thought of Toji being captured by the sheriff’s men. You hope they don’t hurt your horse, although you doubt she’ll be yours much longer since you’re about to be sent off to jail.

Cutting your losses and acknowledging defeat, you walk back into the house, ready to face the renowned sheriff. Walking back into the kitchen, your footsteps alert the man of your location, and he makes his way into the room.

If you weren’t scared out of your mind at what’s to come, you might have started drooling, honestly. If this man weren’t known for his near superhuman abilities, he would have been known for his looks alone. You had never seen or even heard about a man that looked like him. He had bright white hair that peaked out from his hat. His skin was so fair and beautiful you swore he was made of porcelain. His lips were a pretty pink that somehow had a glimmering shine to them. He wore black denim with a black button up, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, exposing his large hands and delectable arm veins. For a reason unknown to you, he wore a blindfold over his eyes. You could only wonder what his eyes looked like, although you imagined they were as beautiful as the rest of him.

He looked unreal. This whole situation felt unreal. You still hadn’t wrapped your head around the fact that you were about to be arrested let alone the fact that you were standing in a room with a man that looked like that.

“Well, well,” Gojo chuckles, “Here I was thinking Toji’s accomplice had to be some ugly brute with a tobacco addiction. But here you are instead.”

You rocked on the balls of your feet out of nerves, “I- I’m sorry to disappoint.”

He laughs fully this time. “And a sense of humor, too? What did Toji do to get you roped into this in the first place, huh?”

Your eyes widen slightly at this. It’s like he could see right through you. Was it that obvious that you didn’t live a life of crime? You suppose it’s times like this where your naturally expressive face and body language actually benefited you, as Gojo must have known about the true nature of your involvement just by the way you reacted to his presence.

“I, um…” you tried to pick your words in a way that made you look the least guilty of committing a crime. “I only agreed to help him since I owed him a favor…”

This seemed to pique Gojo’s interest. “Oh? And what did the lying, deceitful, manipulative, gambling addict do to earn a favor from a pretty girl like you?”

Your face flushes when you process his words. Warranted and accurate insults about Toji aside, the human embodiment of perfection called you pretty.

You must have been frozen in place for a second or two because when you blink again, Gojo is standing closer to you and leaning inward, “Are you with me, sweetheart?”

Eyes widening, you nod your head vigorously and elicit another chuckle from the man.

“Well,” you sigh after being able to mentally calm yourself, “he helped my family in a tough situation. My mother was very sick, and Toji just so happened to have the proper remedies to heal her…”

Although you can’t see his eyes, you can tell that Gojo raises his eyebrows in curiosity, and his silence prompts you to continue.

“Believe me, I never wanted to help him out. Or, at least, when I agreed to help him, I had no idea he was gonna drag me into this mess. But I couldn’t just walk around my house and pass by my mother without thinking that, if it weren’t for that lunatic, she wouldn’t be with us anymore.”

Gojo hums and brings his hand to his chin as if in thought. “I bet your family would be pretty disappointed to see you now though, right? Doing all this for your mother is admirable, but you still committed a crime… What kind of sheriff would I be if I just let you off the hook because you told me some sob story and batted your eyelashes at me, hm?”

You didn’t know how to react to his words. Sure, he’s right, your family would be disappointed to see you in this position. You’d never gotten into any sort of trouble before- certainly never done anything illegal.

“You thought you owed a simple favor, sure… But last time I checked, the pathway to heaven wasn’t paved with good intentions.” he tuts. “But jail time seems a little harsh, no? What do you think we can do to solve this little problem?”

Your heart is beating so hard that you wonder if Gojo could hear it from where he stood. “Please, I’ll do anything. I’ve never broken the law before, and I can’t afford to leave my family and go to jail.”

“Anything, huh?” Gojo smirks and pulls down his blindfold to reveal the most striking, beautiful eyes you had ever seen in all your life. “Well, how could I turn down an offer like that?”

You almost didn’t even process his words since you were so stunned by his eyes. In your entire life, you had never seen such a bright, beautiful, magnificent shade of blue. You had seen blue eyes before, sure. But, like the rest of his appearance, his eyes looked mythical.

“Quiet all of a sudden, huh? No ideas for your substitute form of punishment?” The young sheriff walks around you like a shark circling its prey before the bloody, inevitable attack. “You’re in luck, sweetheart, because I’ve got just the perfect penance for ya.”

Before you could get out a word, he’s behind you and pulling you flush against his firm chest. You let out a soft squeak at the sudden sensation and move to bring your hand to your mouth to prevent any other embarrassing noises from spilling out. Gojo notices your timid movement and quickly wraps an arm around you.

“Nuh uh,” he says in a sing-song tone, “part of your punishment is letting me hear all those pretty little noises of yours, do you understand?”

You nod repeatedly in acknowledgement and remain stiff in his hold, unsure of how to react next. You weren’t entirely dumb. Were you dumb enough to help Toji commit a crime? Yes. But you weren’t so dumb that you didn’t understand what Gojo was hinting at with his little punishment “substitution”. The thought was both thrilling and nerve-wracking. If you had a stronger constitution, you might have just denied Gojo and accepted jail time instead. But, here you were, helpless in his arms and doing your damnedest to keep from embarrassing yourself any further.

Gojo runs his free hand from the top of your shoulder all the way down to your hips. “Such a soft, dainty thing, aren’t ya? Caught up in all of this and so, so desperate for a way out… It’s no wonder why Toji played with you like the toy you are…”

You shiver in his hold.

“You see, my eyes can be quite sensitive. But now that my blindfold is off…” he leans in closer and inhales against your neck, taking in your sweet scent that he could practically smell the nerves radiating from. “I’ve got a better view of this pretty, little toy. And I’m just dying to play with her.”

He removes the arm from around your waist and begins to unbutton your flannel at a leisurely pace that has you both shaking in your boots (quite literally) while also wishing he’d hurry up and just rip the shirt open completely.

“Never wanted Toji to…” you pause, embarrassed to finish your sentence.

Gojo continues to undress you and just hums against your neck while his long fingers continue their work. “Never wanted Toji to… what, sweetheart?”

You swallow, “Never wanted Toji to… to play with me.”

The young sheriff raises his eyebrows and sports his signature smirk, “Oh, is that so? Does that mean you want me to play with you?”

Clearing your throat, you nod once more, “I’m just trying to follow the law, sir.”

He laughs at that and finally pulls your shirt open and off your body, revealing your bra-clad chest. “Follow the law, huh? Is that what they call it nowadays?” He removes your shirt altogether and undoes the clasp of your bra with almost concerning expertise. “Well, better late than never, I suppose. Maybe you’ve learnt your lesson already… Although, I better punish you further to make sure you don’t forget- just in case.”

Once your torso is completely bare, Gojo spins you around and crashes his lips onto yours. You let out a gasp, and Gojo’s tongue uses the involuntary noise as an invitation to push into your awaiting mouth.

You’ve kissed your fair share of men before, though most were drunken kisses at saloons that you almost immediately regretted. Kissing Gojo was unlike anything you had ever experienced- practically everything about him was a foreign sensation, honestly. His lips alone had you feeling like you were vibrating, and the faint taste of strawberries on the tall man’s lips left you just as breathless as the kiss made you feel.

He brings his large hands to your hair and tugs against the strands, making you moan deeper into the kiss. His lips are hungry against yours, and he eats up each and every sound you make from the smallest of whimpers to the sudden gasps.

You reluctantly pull back for the kiss and look him in the eye, half-lidded and hazy already. “May I… touch you too?” you ask timidly. You’re hoping more than anything he’ll say yes since your fingers are itching to feel even more of him against your skin.

His lips turn upward slowly, and he removes his hands from your hair. You let out a whine at the loss of contact, but he quickly grabs your hands and brings them to his chest. “Look at you, all polite and obedient. Better late than never, huh?”

He pulls you back into a searing kiss and you move your hands freely along his toned body. He might as well be made of marble with how firm he feels beneath you. When you bring your hands to his hair and run your fingers along the nape of his neck, he groans and brings his hands down to cup your ass which elicits a whine from you.

He pulls away this time and before you have time to complain, your breath is taken away by the sight in front of you. He pulls open his shirt and quickly removes his belt. Once the belt is off his waist, he pulls it apart with both hands making a snapping noise. His gaze falls to your hands and you wordlessly offer them to the sheriff. He makes quick work binding your wrists with the fabric. “Just like the handcuffs I’ll save for Toji,” he grins and unbuttons his pants. “On your knees for me, honey.”

You fall to the floor, too hungry for him to worry about looking desperate. He chuckles at your reaction and pushes his pants and boxers down in one movement. His cock springs up and slaps his toned stomach.

Although your sexual experience was next to nothing, you knew that Gojo’s cock had to be the prettiest one in the world. You didn’t even need to see another man’s physique to make that conclusion. Hell, you were never the overtly sexual type, but Gojo’s cock basically had you drooling.

He laughs at your hungry expression. “See something ya like, sweetheart?”

You nod quickly at his question which draws another chuckle from him. “Well, don’t keep me waiting then. Open that mouth of yours and let’s see if it’s as good at sucking me off as it is at getting you out of trouble.”

You eagerly dive in and wrap your lips around the head of his cock.

Fuck. He tastes as good as he looks.

Moaning at the flavor on your tongue, you continue to suck on the tip as if it were your favorite candy. He groans at the sensation but breathes out, “I know you can do better than that, pretty girl. You don’t wanna end up in jail, do you?”

Your eyes widen at the statement, and you quickly take him deeper in your mouth. Bobbing your head quickly, you try to take as much of him in your mouth as you can. No matter how much you hollow your cheeks or hold your breath, you can’t manage to fit him all in your mouth.

How could you? He’s massive.

To say he’s bigger than any man you had ever been with before doesn’t do justice to how large his cock is. Even when you force him in your mouth to the best of your ability, you’re not even halfway down his length. Every now and then, you keep wanting to reach up and wrap your hands around him before you remember they’re restrained by his belt.

That doesn’t keep you from sucking as if your life depended on it- which it pretty much does.

Gojo pulls your hair back in a makeshift ponytail and pushes your head down deeper. “Come on, sweets. Take it allll the way.”

You choke around his cock and tears well up in your eyes. Gojo begins to fuck into your mouth and groans loudly, the sounds echoing throughout the empty house. You really wish Gojo would have taken off your pants before you began sucking him off since you feel the increasing discomfort of wetness between your legs confined by denim.

“Between you and me,” Gojo huffs between moans as he picks up his pace, “I’m glad that Toji didn’t get to see you like this. A dick like him doesn’t deserve a mouth like yours.”

Your eyes roll back at his comment. Desperate for some relief, you rub your thighs together and hope that the friction will alleviate some of the pressure. The young sheriff notices your movement and scoffs. “Didn’t your mama ever teach you some manners? Rubbing those thighs together like some common whore at the saloon?”

You let out a muffled whine at the comment. His words go straight to your cunt and only make you wetter than you already were. He laughs again as if he could sense the impact his words had on you.

The tears in your eyes begin to spill down your cheeks as the speed of his hips increases even more. “Is that tight little throat of yours ready, sweetheart?”

You try your best to nod despite his massive cock ramming into your open mouth. His breath quickens before he groans loudly and hot cum shoots down your throat. You can help but moan at the sensation too. Your jaw was sore, but the taste of him was definitely worth the discomfort.

“Ah, ah, ah,” Gojo tuts, “Don’t swallow just yet, pretty. Let me see that mouth I just filled.”

Looking up at him with wide eyes, you show him the contents of your mouth and frantically bring your fingers to your lips when some of his cum begins to dribble down your chin. Gojo chuckles at the sight and gently closes your mouth. “Go ahead and swallow every drop, sweetheart. You’ve earned it,” he smirks.

You greedily swallow the salty substance and even open your mouth again to show him you had done what he asked.

“You really are a good girl, aren’t you?” Gojo smiles. “But we’re not through with your punishment just yet, pretty. Up against the counter.”

You clumsily rise from the floor and stumble to the counter. Your eagerness makes the man laugh. Once against the hard surface, Gojo bends you over and reaches around to unbutton your pants. Your efforts to contain your excitement don’t go unnoticed by the sheriff as he catches you rubbing your thighs together once more which just makes his cock grow hard once more.

When he finally pushes down your pants and panties to the floor, he stares at your pussy for what feels like ages. Instinctively, you begin to close your thighs out of shyness. “Oh, no you don’t, sweetheart.” He firmly shoves your legs apart once more. “You’re gonna stay nice and still while I play with this pretty pussy. And if you wanna be a brat instead, then I’d be more than happy to give you this punishment down at the station. Would you and this soaking cunt like an audience?”

“No! No, I’m sorry,” you speak quickly, “I’m just not used to men…touching me there.”

Gojo quirks an eyebrow in confusion, “You mean that no man has ever done… this?” He runs a digit against your folds and you squeak at the feeling.

“Or… how about this?” Gojo licks a long stipe up your cunt that has you squealing involuntarily. You shake your head as heat rises to your cheeks. The sheriff hums at the revelation.

A pretty little slut like you hasn’t had her equally pretty pussy played with before?

It must be his lucky day.

“Guess you’re in for a treat then, darlin.” Gojo dives right in with his tongue, and you’re unable to conceal your loud moans even if you tried. The way he flicks his tongue against your clit has you practically seeing stars. None of your past sexual partners had ever taken the time to prioritize your pleasure. And after so many disappointing hookups, you ultimately gave up on sex altogether.

But this changed everything.

The way his tongue sucked and licked your sopping pussy was nothing short of magic. You had no idea you could even feel this good until now. Gojo’s tongue against your cunt made up for every underwhelming hookup you had ever had. And now that you know what it feels like, you’re hooked.

“Fuck,” you whine, “That feels so fucking good. Please don’t stop, sheriff.”

The man hums against your pussy and suddenly pushes a finger inside you. You cry out a wanton moan at the sensation and barely have time to adjust before he shoves another digit inside. The two fingers piston in and out of you at a rapid pace. Gojo pulls away from your pussy and you whimper at the loss.

“My, what a dirty mouth you’ve got,” Gojo teases. “Maybe I’ll have to fuck that mouth of yours again just to clean it.”

You instinctively tighten around his fingers over his comment and he emits a loud laugh. “Your cunt is so honest. You don’t even have to speak, because this pretty pussy talks for herself.”

He removes both fingers from you and instead uses them to rub your clit as he shoves his tongue back into your pussy once more. The coupled sensation of his fingers and his tongue has your eyes rolling back and your hands balling tightly into fists.

Finally snapping out of your daze and able to speak, you whine out, “I’m so close, Gojo. Please let me cum.”

Gojo pulls away for just a second to command, “Cum all over my tongue like the dirty whore I know you are.”

Your scream rings throughout the house as your climax crashes upon you. Your legs are shaking so badly that you almost collapse, and it feels as if electricity is in your veins with the buzz you feel.

Barely comprehensive, you whimper as Gojo removes his tongue and fingers. Although you can barely stand and would undoubtedly fall to the floor if he continued his attack on your pussy, you already missed the feeling more than you’d like to admit.

When you finally snap out of your orgasmic daze, you feel Gojo pressed against your backside.

Fuck.

If Gojo felt big in your mouth, he felt fucking gigantic against your pussy. It’d be like ramming a train through a keyhole. But even though you knew he’d fuck you within an inch of your life, you felt more arousal trickle down legs just at the thought of it.

He grabbed your hips firmly and lined up the head of his cock against your lips. Dragging his cock up and down your slit, he spread your arousal.

“Please no teasing,” you beg. “If I have to wait any longer, I’m gonna lose my mind.”

Gojo clicks his tongue, “If I weren’t just as eager to fuck this tight little pussy, I’d give you another punishment for being so damn bratty and impatient.”

Clenching his jaw, he slowly pushes the tip in and hisses at the feeling on your warm walls. You can’t help but gasp at the penetration. He’s only stuck the tip in, yet it feels huge.

After only a moment of keeping the tip within your heat, he all but shoves the rest of his cock inside your weeping pussy. Gojo leans over your back and groans in your ear and you all but scream at the intrusion.

Before you have time to catch your breath, Gojo begins jackhammering into your cunt at a brutal pace. Tears quickly form in your eyes and drool spills from your lips. He’s just began fucking you and you’re already cockdrunk.

“Jesus fucking christ,” He moans loudly. “How are you so fucking tight?”

You’re unable to form words as he pistons his hips. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the house, and you have no doubt that people would be able to hear you all the way from the end of the street. His grunts and groans harmonize with your moans and whimpers.

He uses one hand to gather your hair and pulls you against his chest. “This is supposed to be a punishment, but look at you,” Gojo grunts. “You’re loving this. You may look the part, but that good girl routine is all an act. Once a whore, always a whore.”

All you can do is whine at his words, unable to form words to respond with. Gojo laughs at the dumb look on your face.

“What’s that saying? “Don’t do the crime if you can’t do the time”. And, honey?” Gojo says between moans. “I’m gonna enjoy taking my time with you.”

Beyond what you thought possible, his thrusts increase in their intensity. He’s hitting spots you didn’t even know existed. To say you feel him in your guts doesn’t even come close to describing the sensation. All you know was that you had never felt so full in your entire life.

“Gojo!” you cry out after a particularly rough thrust.

The man smiles with a crazed look in his eye. “Oh? Pretty girl can talk now? I must not be fucking you hard enough then.”

He reaches his hand around your waist and begins furiously rubbing little circles on your clit which has you screaming at the top of your lungs. Your brain was fried at this point. All you could think about was Gojo, Gojo, Gojo…

In your fucked out haze, you tried to maintain your hold on the counter since your legs were going to give out any second now (and Gojo’s grip on your hair was the main source holding you up). The counter top beneath you was covered in your tears and drool, and your bound hands could hardly get a grip on the surface.

Gojo just continued his aggressive pace as he clenched your hair tightly in his hand. “The idea of Toji trying to get a piece of you just makes me sick,” He spits out. “As if a pathetic criminal like him deserves to feel this cunt.”

Even though nothing romantic or sexual ever transpired between you or Toji, Gojo practically saw red at the mere thought of the older man ever touching you. Though your paths hadn’t crossed officially until this point, Gojo can’t imagine any other man laying a hand on you. Insanely enough, he sped up the speed of his fingers in jealously over the hypothetical situation.

“G-Gojo, I can’t-” you attempted to string together words. “S’too much.”

He coos in mock sympathy, “Aw, baby can’t take it?”

You just whine in response, so out of your mind with how deep he is inside of you.

“Well, that’s too bad, sweetheart,” He grunts. “Because this lesson’s not over with just yet.”

Unable to keep your head up, you let it slump down as far as Gojo’s grip on your hair will allow. And just when you think (as much as you even can think with him pummeling his cock in and out of your pussy) the feeling couldn’t get any stronger, Gojo’s tip hits that one spot that has you seeing stars.

“Oh, my god! Fuck, Gojo!” you sob. “Fuck, fuck, I can’t take anymore! I’m gonna cum!”

He continues to ram against your G-spot over and over again until you’re sure your brain is melting. “Go ahead and cum all over cock. Be a good slut for me and show me that you’ve learnt your lesson.”

When the coil in your stomach breaks, you scream at the top of your lungs and squirt all over Gojo’s cock, soaking both of your jeans. You don’t even get a second to recollect the broken pieces of your brain because Gojo continues to fuck you like it’s his last day on Earth.

“Fuck, did you just soak my jeans, sweetheart?” He half laughs, half groans. Quickly approaching his climax too, he clenches his jaw and furrows his eyebrows. “I’m gonna fill you up, and you’ll tell me what you learnt from this punishment as my cum is dripping out of you.”

His words go in one ear and out the other. All his words sound like gibberish to you. You feel like you’re going to pass out if he continues at this rate.

Gojo swears and his hips stammer before he shoots ribbons of cum into your tight pussy. You swear you feel your stomach begin to bloat with the amount he gives you.

Your body goes limp against Gojo’s, and he holds you up before you collapse. You both whine when he pulls out, and he watches in awe as his cum trickles out of your messy cunt and runs down your shaking legs.

You’re still on cloud 9 (no, you’re on cloud 100 at this point), and to say your vision is blurry is an understatement. No amount of booze at the saloon could have you drunk like this.

“Gojo,” you practically slur.

Still out of breath, he manages to laugh at your thoroughly fucked out state, “I know, sweetheart, I know. Look at that cunt, all pretty and sloppy with my cum. Whatta sight for sore eyes…”

He turns you around to face him and holds on to your weakened form.

“Now,” he begins. “What did you learn from your punishment?”

He could have asked you for your own name and you wouldn’t know the answer. He might as well have filled your skull with cum the way not a single thought was swimming around in your brain.

“I…sorry…” you stutter in confusion. “And Toji…”

Gojo sighs condescendingly. Even though he asked the question, he knew you’d never be able to answer. That was the goal all along.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart… But that wasn’t the answer I was looking for,” Gojo sighs with a mocking pout to match yours. He pulls you closer and you snap out of your daze with widened eyes as you feel his hardened cock once more. “I guess I’ll just have to teach the lesson again.”

---

lmao uhhh yeah there we go if you made it this far thanks for reading <3

taglist: @browniebigga @ourfinalisation @idolingalong

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allthemeniveloved · 1 month ago

Text

Devil

Summary: After she fails to rob him, John Marston finally meets his match.

wc: 5.3k

ao3 link

Warnings: 18+, mdni, low honor John Marston x mean female stubborn pickpocket oc, cocky bastard JM, horrendous pickup lines, dubious consent, oral (m receiving), slight exhibitionism, no abigail or jack

a/n: Trying out third person POV! I had a lot of fun writing this one! <3

The saloon in Rhodes was bustling, its warm lamplight casting long, dancing shadows across the scuffed wooden floors. A haze of cigar smoke hung thick in the air, mingling with the steady hum of conversation, bursts of laughter, and the occasional crash of a glass. In the back corner of the room, the scrape of chairs and the slap of playing cards punctuated the scene.

John Marston leaned back in his chair, a cocky grin stretching across his face as he lazily swirled a tumbler of whiskey in one hand. His other hand rested on his knee, tapping in time with the saloon’s off-key piano. Across from him, Arthur studied his cards with a nonchalant frown, a half-empty beer beside him. To Arthur’s right, Charles calmly lit a cigar, the smoke curling lazily around his head. Sean MacGuire, perched at the far end of the table, was currently ignoring his own hand in favor of loudly heckling a drunk who had collapsed in the corner.

“Come on, ya sack o’ shite!” Sean hollered, slapping the table. “Get up an’ show us yer dancin’ moves again! I’m tellin’ ya, boys, the man’s got the grace of a drunk mule.”

Arthur snorted. “Least he’s got some moves, which is more than I can say for you.”

“Oi, I’ve got moves,” Sean protested, slapping his chest. “Just ask the ladies.”

“The ladies?” John drawled, eyebrows arching in mock surprise. “You sure you didn’t mean the goats?”

The table burst into laughter, Sean glaring daggers at John. “Oh, you can shut yer trap, Marston. I’ll have you know, the ladies love me.”

“Yeah, when you keep your mouth shut,” Arthur added, smirking as he threw a couple of coins into the pot. “Raise.”

Sean leaned forward, grinning wickedly. “Oh, you’re just jealous I’ve got more charm in me pinkie finger than you’ve got in that whole sorry body o’ yours.”

“Sean,” Charles said evenly, his tone deadpan, “you’ve got the charm of a rattlesnake on a bad day.”

“’Tis slander, I tell ya!” Sean thumped the table, earning a warning glance from the bartender. “Pure jealousy, all of ya. But enough of yer yammerin’. I’m in too.” He tossed in his coins with a flourish. “Let’s see what ya got, Morgan.”

Arthur rolled his eyes but played along, laying his cards on the table. “Three of a kind.”

Sean groaned, slumping back in his chair. “Of course! What about you, Charles?”

Charles calmly placed his cards down—two pair. Sean perked up. “Ha! Finally, some justice. What about you, Marston?”

John grinned like the cat that got the cream. “Read ‘em and weep, boys.” He flipped over his hand—straight flush.

“Damn it!” Arthur muttered, tossing his cards down in disgust. “You’ve been smug all night. You’re cheatin’, aren’t ya?”

“Cheatin’?” John said with an exaggerated gasp, his grin only widening. “Arthur, I’m hurt. You think I’d cheat my closest friends out of their hard-earned cash?”

“Yes,” Arthur, Sean, and Charles said in unison.

John chuckled, leaning back in his chair and stretching. “Well, you can think what you want, but I’m just lucky tonight, is all.”

“Lucky, my arse,” Sean muttered. “I swear, you’ve got horseshoes shoved up where the sun don’t shine.”

“Maybe,” John replied with a wink, pocketing the pot.

“What’re you so happy about, Marston?” Arthur drawled, shaking his head as he reached for his beer.

John shrugged, swirling his whiskey lazily. “Just enjoyin’ myself. Ain’t a crime, is it?”

“Not yet,” Arthur muttered, though the faintest smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

As the group’s banter continued, no one noticed the elegant figure slinking through the crowd. She moved like a shadow, her dark hair pulled back beneath a wide-brimmed hat. Her gown, though simple, was impeccably tailored, hugging her figure in all the right places. But it wasn’t her appearance that drew attention—oh no. It was her sharp eyes, like polished obsidian, scanning the room for an opportunity.

And she found it.

The loud-mouthed cowboy in the corner, leaning back in his chair like he owned the place, was an easy mark. The flash of his belt buckle and the bulge in his coat pocket told her he had more than enough to spare. He was clearly drunk—arrogance practically radiated off him in waves.

Perfect.

She made her way across the room, her steps light and deliberate. As she passed behind his chair, her fingers worked deftly, slipping into his coat pocket with practiced ease. She almost had it—a roll of cash tucked neatly inside. But just as she began to pull away, a rough hand shot out, grabbing her wrist.

“Well, well,” drawled a voice, tinged with amusement. “What have we got here?”

She froze, but only for a moment. When she turned to face him, her expression was calm, her lips curling into a sardonic smile. His hazel eyes met hers, glinting with mischief.

“Let go of me,” she said, her voice smooth as honey but sharp as a blade.

John didn’t budge. Instead, he leaned closer, the scent of whiskey and leather rolling off him in waves. “You’re quick, I’ll give you that. But not quick enough.”

Arthur glanced up from his beer, raising an eyebrow. “What’s goin’ on?”

“Lady here was tryin’ to relieve me of my hard-earned money,” John said, holding her wrist aloft for emphasis. He didn’t sound angry—if anything, he sounded impressed.

She rolled her eyes. “Hard-earned? From the looks of you, I doubt you’ve done an honest day’s work in your life.”

That earned a laugh from Sean, who slammed his hand on the table. “Oh, I like her!”

John smirked, releasing her wrist but not taking his eyes off her. “Feisty, huh? I like that. But if you wanted some cash, sweetheart, all you had to do was ask.”

She scoffed, brushing off his remark. “Spare me the charm, cowboy. I’ve heard better lines from drunks passed out in the gutter.”

That only seemed to amuse him more. He leaned back in his chair again, watching her with an almost predatory grin. “You’ve got some nerve, I’ll give you that.”

She straightened her hat, giving him a withering look. “And you’ve got more money than sense. Lucky for you, I’m in a good mood tonight.”

“Oh, you’re doin’ me a favor, are you?” John’s grin widened. “Well, ain’t that kind of you.”

She ignored him, turning on her heel to leave, but his voice stopped her in her tracks.

“Wait a second, darlin’. Least let me buy you a drink. Call it a peace offering.”

She turned back, raising an eyebrow. “I’m not interested.”

“Not interested in free whiskey?” John feigned a wounded expression, placing a hand over his heart. “Now that’s just cruel.”

She crossed her arms, her gaze unwavering. “I’m not interested in you, cowboy. Keep your drink—and your money.”

The table erupted in laughter, with Sean nearly falling out of his chair. Even Arthur chuckled, shaking his head.

But John wasn’t deterred. If anything, her sharp tongue only seemed to spur him on. “You’re a tough one, ain’t ya? I like a challenge.”

“Good luck, then,” she said coolly, before disappearing into the crowd.

But John Marston wasn’t one to give up so easily.

John watched her as she disappeared into the throng of saloon-goers, her hat tilted just enough to conceal the sharp glint in her eyes. She walked with a confidence that caught his attention, her hips swaying in a rhythm that seemed deliberate, a silent declaration of triumph despite the failed pickpocketing attempt.

Arthur’s voice broke his focus. “Let it go, John. She’s not interested.”

“Since when do I take advice from you about women?” John shot back, smirking as he tossed back the rest of his drink. “She’s just playin’ hard to get.”

“Hard to get?” Sean barked a laugh, wiping tears from his eyes from the lingering hilarity. “She damn near gutted you with that tongue of hers, and you’re callin’ it playin’?”

“She’s a challenge,” John said, his grin widening. “And I like challenges.”

“Challenges like tryin’ to stay upright after your fifth whiskey?” Arthur muttered, tipping his bottle in John’s direction.

Charles chuckled softly, shaking his head. “You’re gonna regret this, John.”

“Regret?” John leaned back in his chair, stretching his arms. “I don’t regret nothin’. I’ve got charm. She’ll come around.”

“You’ve got something, all right,” Arthur muttered. “A death wish, maybe.”

John ignored him, standing up and dusting off his coat. He grabbed his hat and planted it firmly on his head, the cocky gleam in his hazel eyes unwavering. “Y’all enjoy your game. I’ve got some business to attend to.”

“Yeah, sure. Go on,” Sean said, waving him off. “But don’t come cryin’ to us when she slaps that smug grin off your face.”

“She won’t slap me,” John said confidently. “She might kiss me, though.”

“Get outta here,” Arthur grunted, waving him off as John sauntered toward the bar.

The crowd parted slightly as John moved through, his eyes scanning the room for her. It didn’t take long. She was leaning casually against the bar, her elbow resting on the wooden surface as she nursed a glass of something dark. Her expression was cool, disinterested, but her sharp gaze flickered across the room, cataloging every detail like a predator stalking prey. She had clearly noticed him before he even reached her, though she didn’t turn to acknowledge him.

“Fancy meetin’ you here,” John said, sliding up beside her with a grin that could rival the devil’s own.

She didn’t even glance his way. “The saloon isn’t exactly exclusive, cowboy.”

He chuckled, tipping his hat back slightly as he leaned an elbow on the bar. “Well, I figured you’d be long gone after your little… failed venture.”

Her lips quirked, but it wasn’t a smile. “You’re awfully smug for someone who almost got robbed.”

“Almost,” he repeated, emphasizing the word. “Key word there, sweetheart. You didn’t get away with it.”

She finally turned her head, her dark eyes meeting his with a cool defiance. “You sound proud, but let me guess—you’d have handed over that money if I batted my lashes at you.”

“Depends on how convincing you were,” John admitted, his grin never faltering. “But I’m more interested in you now than I was before.”

“Oh, lucky me.” Her tone dripped with sarcasm. She took a slow sip from her glass, her gaze flickering over him before returning to her drink.

John leaned closer, undeterred. “What’s your name?”

“Not interested,” she said simply, her focus still on the bar.

“Funny name,” He quipped, earning himself the faintest flicker of a smile, though it disappeared as quickly as it came.

John leaned against the bar, his grin unwavering. “Name’s John, in case you were curious.”

“Are you always this annoying, John?” she asked, finally turning to face him fully.

Her retort earned a bark of laughter from John. “You’ve got a real gift, you know that? Not everyone can insult a man so pretty.”

She glanced at him, her eyes narrowing slightly. “Why don’t you find someone else to waste your time on?”

John’s laughter lingered as he leaned a little closer, his elbows resting casually on the bar. “Tell me somethin’, sweetheart,” he drawled, his tone teasing but not unkind. “You always this tough, or am I just lucky tonight?”

She didn’t look at him, but the corner of her mouth twitched—so quickly it might’ve been imagined.

“You mistake stubbornness for luck, cowboy.”

“Oh, it’s luck all right,” he said, tapping the bar with his knuckles again. “No way I’m this lucky twice in one week.”

Her lips pressed into a line, the faintest suggestion of amusement flickering in her dark eyes before she schooled her expression. “You’re too full of yourself.”

“Maybe,” he conceded with a lazy shrug. “But you’re smilin’. Almost.”

Her head turned sharply, her gaze cutting to his. “I am not.”

That earned a crooked grin from John, his hazel eyes sparkling with mischief. “Ain’t no shame in it, darlin’. I’m a funny guy. People tend to like me eventually.”

Her composure faltered just slightly, the faintest huff escaping her lips before she caught herself. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Ridiculously persistent,” he shot back, the grin widening. “But hey, you’re still talkin’ to me, so I must be doin’ somethin’ right.”

She rolled her eyes, finally lifting her drink and taking a slow sip, if only to avoid answering. But John caught it—a split-second softening, a crack in the armor that had him feeling a little too proud of himself.

“See that?” he said, leaning closer again. “You can’t get rid of me. You don’t hate me as much as you want to, do ya?”

Her glass clinked softly against the bar as she set it down with deliberate care. When she turned to him, her eyes had narrowed, her smirk sharp and cutting. “If you’re waiting for me to admit anything, don’t hold your breath. In fact…” She leaned closer now, her voice dropping to a low, dangerous purr. “You might wanna think real hard about how far you push this before I embarrass you in front of the whole saloon.”

John raised his hands in mock surrender, though the grin never left his face. “Careful now, angel. You’re startin’ to sound like you care about my feelings.”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” she snapped, though her tone lacked the venom it carried earlier.

“Oh, I don’t need to,” he replied smoothly. “You’re doin’ it for me.”

Her jaw tightened, her nails tapping a sharp rhythm against the wood of the bar. “I’m about five seconds away from throwing this drink in your face.”

John tilted his head, his grin somehow growing even more infuriating. “Go on then. Might cool me off, ‘cause darlin’, you’re hotter than the Lemoyne sun.”

That did it. She huffed sharply, the sound almost a laugh before she quickly bit it back. Her lips pressed together, but the slight color in her cheeks betrayed her.

John’s eyes widened slightly in mock surprise, and he pointed at her triumphantly. “There it is! You’re blushin’! I knew it!”

“I am not!” she snapped, turning her head sharply away.

“You are too,” he teased, laughing now, unbothered by the heat of her glare when she whipped her head back to him. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. It’s cute.”

Her lips parted to retort, but she found herself momentarily speechless. She wasn’t sure if it was his persistence, his nerve, his utterly stupid pick up lines, or the fact that her cheeks really were starting to feel warm. Whatever it was, he’d found a crack, and she hated that he knew it.

Her gaze lingered on him for a beat too long, and she hated herself for the way her pulse quickened. The worst part was, he could probably see it. But she wasn’t going to let him have the last word. Not yet. With a sharp tilt of her chin, she picked up her drink and downed the rest in one go, slamming the glass down before fixing him with an icy stare. “Keep pushing, cowboy. I promise you’ll regret it.”

John only laughed, tipping his hat to her as she stormed off toward the other end of the saloon. But she didn’t miss the way his eyes stayed on her as she walked away.

And damn it all, she hated that she didn’t hate it.

John lingered by the bar for a moment, watching her retreat with a slow shake of his head. She moved with purpose, shoulders stiff and head held high, but the faintest hesitation in her stride told him she knew he was watching. He chuckled under his breath, downed the last of his drink, and turned toward the exit.

“Don’t do it, John,” Arthur called from the poker table, barely glancing up from his hand.

“Let her go, Marston!” Sean chimed in, leaning back in his chair with an exaggerated laugh. “She’s gonna skin you alive.”

“You’ll be lucky to keep your dignity intact,” Charles added evenly, though there was the faintest trace of a smile on his face.

John waved them off with a lazy flick of his hand. “Y’all just keep losin’ your money over there. I’ll be fine.”

He pushed through the saloon doors, the humid night air hitting him like a blanket after the haze of whiskey and cigar smoke inside. The faint clinking of harnesses and the soft murmur of crickets filled the quiet. He didn’t have to look far—she was out back, untying her horse with quick, efficient movements, her head slightly tilted as though she were listening for footsteps.

“Leavin’ so soon?” he drawled, the sound of his boots on the dirt cutting through the stillness.

She froze for half a heartbeat before continuing to untie the reins. “You’re a persistent bastard. I’ll give you that.”

“Gotta be, sweetheart,” he said, walking closer but keeping a casual distance. “Someone like you doesn’t make it easy.”

“Good,” she shot back, her voice steady but lacking the same bite as earlier. “I’d hate to be accused of goin’ soft.”

He grinned, the corners of his mouth twitching like he was trying not to laugh. “Don’t worry, darlin’. ‘Soft’ ain’t the word anyone’d use for you.”

She finished untying her horse and turned to face him, her dark eyes sharp but unreadable in the low light. “You’ve had your fun. Go back to your poker game.”

He took a step closer, his grin softening into something warmer. “Maybe I’m havin’ more fun out here.”

She opened her mouth to fire back, but no words came. For the first time that night, she seemed caught off guard. Her eyes flicked to his face, narrowing slightly as if searching for some crack in his playful facade. But there wasn’t one. He was just… watching her, his hazel eyes steady and open, his grin more genuine than teasing now.

“Well,” she finally managed, her voice quieter than before. “Good for you.”

He was closer now, and his expression was different—less cocky, more… sincere. The shift threw her off balance, and for once she had no witty retort.

John noticed. Oh, he noticed. The faint hesitation in her eyes, the way her lips parted like she was searching for something to say. His grin returned, slow and lazy, and he leaned just a little closer, lowering his voice. “You all outta insults, sweetheart?”

She stiffened, her jaw working as if she were trying to summon some kind of biting reply, but nothing came. Her silence only seemed to embolden him.

“Thought so,” he murmured, his tone rich with amusement. “I gotta say, I kinda like you like this. Quiet suits you.”

That did it. She snapped her head toward him, her glare sharp enough to cut. “Don’t push your luck.”

“Too late,” he said with a wink. “I’m already pushin’ it.”

John’s grin softened, but he didn’t step back. Instead, he took a slow, deliberate step forward, closing the space between them inch by inch. She stiffened immediately, her fingers tightening around the reins of her horse.

“You’re awfully close, cowboy,” she said, her voice steady but edged with warning.

He stopped just short of touching her, his hazel eyes locked onto hers. “Close enough to make you nervous?” he asked, his tone teasing, though there was a new, hushed quality to his voice that made the air between them feel heavier.

Her lips parted, ready to bite back with some sharp retort, but his scent reached her before she could. Tobacco, whiskey, and leather—all laced with the faint, earthy musk of sweat from the long day. She hated how intoxicating it was, how it seemed to settle low in her chest and linger there. She straightened her shoulders, forcing herself to meet his gaze with a defiance she didn’t fully feel.

Before she could respond, he leaned in closer, so close she could feel the warmth of his breath against her cheek. Her heart stuttered against her will, a traitorous little skip that she prayed he couldn’t hear. The tip of his nose nearly grazed her temple as his lips hovered by her ear.

“Oh Angel,” he murmured, his voice a velvet rasp, “I see the way you’re starin’ at me.”

The words rolled over her, slow and deliberate, sending a shiver down her spine that she couldn’t suppress. Goosebumps rose along her arms, a betrayal she hoped the dim light concealed, but she knew he noticed. He didn’t pull back, didn’t gloat—just stayed close enough that the space between them felt unbearably small.

She inhaled sharply, a protest forming on her tongue, but it never made it out. Her body betrayed her again, leaning the faintest bit toward him, caught between wanting to push him away and pulling him closer. Her silence only seemed to spur him on, his lips curving into the faintest smile.

“That’s what I thought,” he whispered, the words brushing against her skin like a touch.

“John,” she managed, her voice barely above a whisper, thick with warning and something dangerously close to surrender.

“Yeah?” he asked, his voice soft but steady, like he was willing to wait forever for whatever she wanted to say.

“Shut up,” she said, but the words were breathless, lacking the bite she wanted them to have.

He grinned, a quiet, self-assured thing that stole the last bit of air from her lungs. And then he closed the distance.

His lips met hers in a kiss that was nothing like the teasing banter they’d exchanged all night. It was raw, desperate, and consuming, his hand coming up to cradle the side of her face as if anchoring himself to her. She froze for half a heartbeat, every nerve in her body alight with shock and something she couldn’t name. And then she kissed him back.

The reins slipped from her fingers as her hands found the front of his shirt, curling into the fabric like it was the only thing keeping her grounded. He pulled her closer, his other hand settling on her waist as the kiss deepened, a slow, heady tangle of lips and breath that made the world tilt. She hated how much she needed it, hated the way her body melted into his, as if she’d been waiting for this all along.

When they finally broke apart, her breath came in shallow, uneven gasps, her forehead resting against his. His eyes were half-lidded, his grin softer now but still insufferable.

“Well,” he said, his voice rough and quiet, “that wasn’t so bad, was it?”

Her glare returned, though it lacked its usual fire. “You’re such a bastard.”

“Maybe,” he admitted, brushing his thumb lightly along her jaw, “but you’re still kissin’ me.”

She shoved him back, though not with as much force as she could’ve. “Don’t get used to it.”

Her lips still tingled from the kiss, the burn of him leaving her aching for something she refused to name. She hated the way her body betrayed her, leaning in before her brain could stop her. And she hated even more that he noticed.

“Oh, darlin’,” he murmured, his voice dipping lower as his hands found her waist, drawing her back in. “You ain’t foolin’ either of us.”

Her resolve crumbled when his lips brushed hers again, softer this time, coaxing rather than demanding. It was slower, deeper, and she leaned into it with a desperation she could no longer fight. Her hands slid upward, curling into the hair at the nape of his neck, pulling him closer, as though she needed him more than air. Her mind raced, grasping for excuses, and the warm haze of the whiskey she’d downed earlier felt like the easiest culprit. It’s just the alcohol, she told herself, trying to ignore the way her hands still clung to him like she didn’t want to let go.

His grip on her waist tightened, his thumbs pressing into the curve of her hips like he was anchoring himself to her. The kiss grew more urgent, a clash of heat and want that left her dizzy, her knees threatening to buckle under the weight of it.

The rough wood of the saloon's exterior pressed against her back as John pushed her against the wall, the impact forcing a soft gasp from her lips. John swallowed the sound, his mouth hot and insistent against hers as he pressed closer, one hand braced against the wall beside her head. The other slid down her side, fingers splaying wide across her hip, his touch searing even through the fabric of her dress. His lips never left hers, the kiss deepening as one of his hands tangled in her hair, knocking her hat askew.

She knew she should push him away, should maintain some semblance of the cool detachment she'd clung to all night. But her body had other ideas. Her fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer as a soft, involuntary moan escaped her lips.

John broke the kiss, his breath coming in ragged pants as he rested his forehead against hers. "God damn, sweetheart," he murmured, his voice rough with desire. "You're somethin' else."

"This doesn't mean anything," she breathed, even as her body arched into his touch.

John's lips curved into that infuriating smirk. "Sure it don't," he drawled, his thumb brushing her lower lip. "You always kiss strangers like that when it don't mean nothin'?"

She couldn't speak, her breath coming in short gasps as she tried to regain her composure. But John wasn't done. His lips trailed along her jaw, then down her neck, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. She tilted her head back, giving him better access, her fingers threading through his hair.

"John," she breathed, barely recognizing her own voice, husky and thick with need.

He hummed against her skin, the vibration sending shivers down her spine. "Say it again," he murmured, his teeth grazing her pulse.

"John," she repeated, louder this time, almost desperate.

He continued his assault on her collarbone as he breathily moaned out, "Tell me to stop," he said, his voice low and rough. "Tell me you don't want this, and I'll walk away right now."

She met his gaze, her dark eyes blazing with a mix of defiance and desire. "Don't you dare stop," she growled, her voice low and husky.

John's grin widened as he expertly unbuckled his gun belt, the leather sliding free with a soft hiss. His belt buckle followed suit, the metal clinking as it came undone. She watched, transfixed, as he let both fall to the ground with a dull thud.

Before he could say another word, she dropped to her knees in front of him, her fingers already working at the buttons of his trousers. John inhaled sharply, his hand coming to rest on the back of her head.

"Well now," he drawled, his voice rough with desire, "ain't this just a sight?”

She silenced John's remark by swiftly freeing his aching and swollen cock from his jeans and taking his length into her mouth. John gasped, his fingers tightening in her hair as she worked him with practiced skill. His cocky demeanor melted away, replaced by soft groans of pleasure. She glanced up, meeting his heated gaze, and felt a thrill of satisfaction at reducing this arrogant cowboy to a quivering mess. John's legs trembled as she took him deeper, his bravado completely forgotten as he surrendered to her ministrations. Though she'd never admit it, she reveled in the power she held over him in this moment, turning the tables on his relentless pursuit.

John couldn’t help but to throw his head back at the feeling of her warm wet mouth hugging his cock. It was a rare kind of victory, sweeter than any pot won at a poker table or any bank robbery gone right. She was sharp and untouchable, fire and steel, and yet here she was—on her knees in front of him with her mouth stuffed full of his cock, gagging on it every time it reached the back of her throat.

And the best part? They both thought that they'd won.

“You’re so fucking pretty like this, darlin’, when you’re not running your goddamn mouth.” He spat out as he began thrusting his hips furiously, but she couldn’t deny his harsh words sent an ache straight to her pussy as she squeezed her thighs together in a horrid attempt to subdue the pressure. She wasn’t the kind of woman who was often put in her place, and only now was she realizing how desperately she craved it.

She doubled her efforts upon hearing his fucked up praise, moving to cup his balls with her hand as she flattened her tongue against his shaft, feeling his member twitch under her tongue. Between her lewd gags and John’s desperate moans and pleas, anyone within 10 feet of the saloon no-doubtedly heard exactly what was going on, and it only drove him that much more insane.

With one last harsh thrust, John’s orgasm ripped through him as he held her head tightly in place, painting her throat with copious amounts of his warm, salty seed. She held intense eye contact with John through his entire climax, her expert tongue swirling around his tip, swallowing every last drop and forcing him to the point of overstimulation.

John let out a string of curses before yanking her off of him by her hair, a string of saliva trailing from her mouth to his cock as John hauled her to her feet. He held her head in his hands, his calloused thumb brushing the drool from the side of her mouth, never breaking their intense gaze.

“Didn’t think I’d crack you, did ya?” he teased, his voice low and edged with playful arrogance, his grin practically daring her to prove him wrong.

She huffed, her hands loosening their grip on his shirt only to shove lightly at his chest again, though there was no force behind it. “You’re insufferable.”

“And yet, here we are,” he shot back as he tucked himself back in his trousers before sliding his hand to her hip, his thumb grazing the fabric there in a way that sent a shiver up her spine.

The sound of the saloon doors swinging open cut through the tension, followed by the heavy tread of boots and a familiar burst of laughter.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” Sean’s voice rang out, loud and incredulous. “You’ve got to be shittin’ me, Marston!”

Arthur followed close behind, shaking his head with a wry smirk as his gaze landed on John, still standing far too close to her, their flushed faces and tousled appearances telling the whole story.

“You actually pulled it off? Thought for sure she’d have knocked you on your ass by now.”

Charles trailed a few steps behind, crossing his arms with nothing but an amused chuckle.

Her face burned as the men’s laughter echoed through the night, every word making her want to sink into the ground. She glared at them briefly, her lips parting to fire back some cutting remark, but nothing came. The smug grin on John’s face didn’t help matters—if anything, it made it worse.

With an exasperated groan, she gave up the fight entirely and buried her face against his chest, her hands fisting the fabric of his shirt to muffle her mortification. “I hate you,” she muttered, her voice muffled but dripping with frustration. John’s laughter rumbled low in his chest, his arms wrapping around her with infuriating ease. She just muttered a half-hearted curse into his shirt, which only made his grin widen as he held her closer.

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whiskeynwriting · 1 year ago

Text

Good Soldier

Captain John Price x Female Reader

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Word Count: 3.6k

Warnings: 18+ (minors DNI)

Age gap (20ish years - it’s so delicious), secret relationship, alcohol consumption (Price is drunk), dirty talk, praise kink, daddy kink, brief spitting, mentions of oral (m receiving), vaginal fingering, unprotected vaginal sex, squirting.

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A/N: Drunk daddy Price babyyyy YESSS

Also, ty SO much to @thesleepingmusicneek for proof-reading this. I wrote this at 3am on a random whim and it was embarrassing how many errors it originally had🥲😂

Also also, I completely forgot to post this on Monday 🙃

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Captain John Price Masterlist

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It’s early in the morning when he wakes you, rough hands pawing at the covers and soon your chest. At first, you’re not sure what’s going on; all you can feel is the weight of his body on top of you, the rough scratch of his facial hair rubbing over your face and neck. His back arches forward, curling around you, arms strong in their embrace.

“Price?” Your voice is quiet and wispy, rough from sleep.

“Don’t call me that.” Comes his immediate response. “You know my name.”

And you smile at that, a sinister little smirk he can’t see through the darkness. He’s too busy pushing his lips against your cheek to notice it, anyway.

“Sorry, sir.” That smirk is everlasting, body resting against the mattress as John works his way to your bare skin. “Didn’t realize it was that kind of moment.”

“Why the fuck else would I be on top of you?” He’s snarling, finally ripping your top from your body so he can grab a fistful of your tit. Breathing heavily, his mouth hangs open beside your cheek before closing with a deep inhale. The entirety of his presence is clouded with the smell of cigar smoke and whiskey, nothing you’re surprised by. And you’re not sure if your body is so limp and pliant because of your sleepy state, or your unwavering desire for him.

“Wish you came tonight.” He then says in a rare moment of sweetness, almost cuddling into your body.

“You told me not to.” Finally turning your head toward him, your noses meet, brushing over the other’s. “Don’t need your boys seeing us interact…”

He frowns at this, your repetition of his earlier words. You’d wanted to go out with him, with all of them, but John was getting paranoid. He already felt like all eyes were on him when it came to you. Every chance he got, he went easy on you, gave all the hard paperwork to the other recruits, let you take as many breaks as you’d like during training, even made a habit of calling you into his office one too many times throughout the day.

Reaching forward, John grabs your jaw, fingers pinching into your cheeks. That authoritative tone then makes an appearance as he demands slowly, quietly, “Behave.”

And that makes your cheeks run hot, a girlish little smile forming on your lips. Innocently, you reply with a whisper of, “Just repeating your own words, sir.”

“Christ, you’re a sassy little thing.” With one quick motion, the hand on your face dives down to your thigh, squeezing its softness before moving to your ass. But even though he sounds genuinely annoyed, he’s still pulling on your panties, and it’s now that you realize he’s without his shirt. His chest presses down against your own, firm and full of hair and fuck if that didn’t turn you on more than anything.

“Say my name,” He requests, mouthing at your neck. John is beyond sick of hearing that title, specifically when it came from your lips. He liked giving you this piece of him, liked creating this intimate space.

Burning in the best of ways, his beard scrapes against your skin, soothed by the soft press of his lips. John seemed to be entranced by your entire presence, in the way you smile, the way you move. He’d never felt a sensation so ravenously delicious before he met you, so intensely carnal.

Dropping his head down, John’s lips find your chest, mouthing at your soft slopes. It’s now that you fully give in, hands rising to either side of his face while arching into his touch. Both of those strong hands come up to grab you, too, molding your tits to fit perfectly in his palms.

“John,”

“There we go,” With a broad smile, he praises you. “There’s the good girl I know.”

Those words make your head spin, make your center pulse and your body run hot. He knew what words like that did to you, even in the most mundane situations. You each had your triggers, particular words or phrases that made you weak in the knees and absolutely dumb in the head…

John liked to be called captain on the field, and when he heard you address him by said name, he had to fight the hard-on growing in his pants. But in bed, he liked John, he liked giving you that piece of him. And you, you fought for his attention, for the reward that made your eyes shine like stars in the sky - his praise. There have been too many times where John commended you for your hard work, even in front of the others, speaking words so innocent that no one but you could interpret otherwise. Good soldier, strong girl, even his favorite recruit.

Days with extra praise ended with John pulling you into the locker room, bodies sweaty and sore but desperate for the other’s touch. He’ll lift you against the lockers, cold and rough against your back but it’s hard to notice when he shoves his cock between your legs. Heavy breaths and deep, quiet moans fill the smaller space, John’s sweat dripping onto your body. And you cling to him, too, with every limb you have, face burying into his neck to kiss and lick his sweat-slick skin. It happened often, way too fucking often.

Other days, when he wouldn’t see you as much, that’s when he’d call you into his office. Little is said when this happens, John’s strong arms manhandling you over the side of his desk. He’d yank your cargos down and spit on you from behind, rubbing his fattened tip over your delicate lips.

At times, he’d take you in the shower, too, his strength preventing you from slipping. Sometimes it’s up against the tiled wall, but more often than not, he took you from behind. Your cheek would press up against the cool tile, John’s front pressed firmly to your back. Shower sex was usually a more sensual experience, John’s hands roaming your body with an incredibly loving touch, lips obsessing over your jawline and neck. You’d sway back against him, feeling him throb inside your body while steam filled the room. You only got away with this when it was late, when no one else was in the room.

But fucking in your room, this is new.

“Perfect fucking tits,” He’s nibbling on your nipples now, wrapping his lips around them and sucking harshly.

As if it’s your natural instinct, your hips rock up toward him, your blood rushing with excitement when he finally moves to settle his pelvis between your legs. It’s clear that he’s completely wasted, his movements both erratic and sloppy, but that’s never stopped him before. If anything, it makes everything that much more enticing to you. Even in his inebriated state, he wants you, he finds you.

“Gorgeous girl, my gorgeous girl.”

With an intrigued grin, you return with, “Yours?”

And that’s when his head shoots up, face inches from yours when he declares, “Mine.” Grabbing your jaw in one hand, he stares into your eyes as best he can with the darkness surrounding him.

“You think any of those others boys will fuck you like I do? Think they’ll take care of you like I do?” His head tilts as he asks you this, free hand dipping to the space between your legs. “You’re my girl…” And then, his eyes are drifting down, watching the pad of his finger trace the damp trail on the center of your panties. “My good little soldier…”

“John,” The whimper that comes out sounds helpless, and he likes it that way. Lifting his head alongside a sweet smile, John leans in, finally reuniting your lips. He’s got you now, and he knows it.

It’s been a few days, nearly an entire work week since you’ve last had each other. John was out with the task force for most of it, using tonight to celebrate a successful mission. And while it’s amazing he’s able to do that, amazing that he led another successful operation, to say you missed each other was an understatement.

The hardened muscles of John’s chest press into you, pelvis grinding between your legs while he kisses you breathless. The hand on the back of your head keeps your mouth against him, his eyes closed in bliss. And when you moan, that liquor-soaked tongue takes advantage, shoving its way into your mouth and he’s moaning when you reciprocate the action.

“Let me fuck you.” That raspy voice says, hands already on his pants. Looking up at him, you nod, no longer feeling like the fearsome soldier you know you are. With him, you can be soft.

His own words prompt John to lean back then, undoing his belt and side-stepping out of his jeans. It’s quite the sight, watching this large, muscular man undo his jeans while towering above you. The bed dips with his weight, and you feel a brief chill in his absence. But it’s not for long.

He doesn’t even bother taking your panties off, just slides them to the side before cramming his fingers into you. It makes you moan, makes you shriek when he curls them. And then you’re grasping at his shoulders, scratching over his freckled skin. Your captain doesn’t start slow, it’s quick and firm, the way he fucks you with two digits.

“J-John, baby.”

“Hush.” Is all he says before quieting you with his mouth, moaning into your throat when he finally tastes your tongue. “God, you’re so good like this.” Taking a breath, he shakes his head, scissoring his fingers into your dripping cunt. “Such a good fucking slut when you’re like this.”

“Fuck me,” Your eyes are rolling back, earning a proud grin from your partner. Is he your partner? Has it grown that deep?

Before your sleepy mind can even comprehend it, he’s replacing his fingers with his cock, his head popping in. At such an early hour, it’s almost impossible for you to have a single coherent thought in your pretty little head, other than the sensation of his girth filling the space between your legs. It’s heady, and he’s heavy, throbbing against your warmth when you release such a cute little squeak.

“Christ, just give it to me.” He grumbles above you, the scent of liquor and cigar smoke wafting through the room. That scent just does something to you, especially when you watch him smoke. Late at night, you often fantasize about blowing him while a cigar hangs from his mouth; maybe another time. “Ngh, just lay there while I take this tight little pussy.”

It fills you so completely, his warmth consuming your being. Every time you take him, it’s a perfect stretch, not enough to hurt but just enough to sting. Your hands don’t leave his shoulders, either, clinging to him and urging him down, closer to your skin. Happily, he complies; he’s been waiting for this all night.

“Fuck, I wish you were there tonight.” John repeats, feeling you bite into his neck. “I really do.”

He tries desperately to keep his composure but he can’t, not when you’re squeezing him so sweetly, warm walls wrapping around him so tightly. It’s mere seconds before he’s moving his hips, not allowing you to take in the full sensation of him.

“What if the boys see me?” Your question is breathy, lips kissing the hinge of his jaw and whining when he sinks back into your heat.

“Y’know, sometimes princess…” Leaning back, John grabs onto both of your hips, staring down at you. And the window allows you the perfect view, far off street lamps illuminating the room. “I wish they would.”

It’s then that he’s pulling your body back and forth onto his pelvis, forcing you to meet his movements. He can’t help but pound into your soft body, sinking in as deeply as he can. And wouldn’t you know it, the old man is already panting, blue eyes staring down at you with voracious desire.

“Fuck, it’s so good. You make me feel so good, so fucking good.” John’s words, his moans, they’re louder than you’d anticipated they’d be. And honestly, it feels amazing to be able to do this to him; to be such a young woman and have this captain’s attention.

“Baby…” Whining quietly, your hands reach back, holding onto the pillow beneath your head. It’s all you can do, really, while your body rocks against him with every thrust he gives. And John didn’t just plow into you, no… his hips swayed, plunging deep, hitting hard. “Please.”

“Taking it so good for me, lovie.” You’re practically on display for him. With your arms raised, it leaves your entire torso vulnerable, presenting your body, as if to say use me, use me however you want.

“Bragged about you today, princess.”

“W-What?” The way your hips rut against him forces a groan from his throat, brows furrowing.

“My good little soldier,” He explains, breathless, running a gentle hand down the skin of your stomach. “How well she’s done, how strong she is…”

“They’re,” Laughing briefly, you sigh. “They’re gonna figure it out.”

“It’s like I told you… I don’t know if I care anymore.” Glancing down at your chest, John watches the way your tits bounce with his movements, the way your nipples harden when he leans in to spit on them. “Perfect fucking girl…”

“Baby, please.” You don’t know what you’re begging for and John knows it’s just because he’s fucking you dumb, hitting that delicious spot deep inside your cunt. “Please, more.”

With all your strength, you manage to wrap your legs around his waist, watching the reaction it pulls from him. Letting go of your hips, he lays both palms flat on the bed, dropping down to your chest. The moan that comes from John’s mouth is deep and needy, resting his face between the slopes of your breasts. He was such a sucker for that move. And that, combined with your sweet begs for more, please, John’s picking up his speed. The bed begins to rock from it, your hands leaving the pillow and finding the back of his neck and head.

“Gorgeous fucking thing,” He says, kissing your nipple. “Sweet little girl… all for me.”

The way he moves is utterly devastating to your body, your nerves alight with that wonderfully erotic heat. Every time felt like the first with him, so passionate and erratic, quick movements and forceful kisses. He just wants you, wants to fuck you full until he physically can’t, to mark you from the inside out.

“I fucking love it, I love this, baby.” The way your nails scratch down his back makes him shiver, strong legs supporting his body as he plunges between your legs. “You’re right.”

“I’m right?” John immediately asks, heavy breaths damp against your cheek.

“You, you take care of me.”

And that fills him to the brink with pride. He really does try to, he always has the best intentions in mind when it comes to you.

“Yeah, I do… because what am I, sweetheart? Who am I?”

Fuck, you knew he’d bring this up. You fucking knew it. Of course he held onto that, your slip up from last week, before he left for the mission. But honestly, you haven’t been able to let go of it, either. The name left your lips in quiet pleas throughout the week, playing with yourself and imagining it to be him - in bed, in the shower, after workouts in the gym. And you wouldn’t have even thought of whispering that title if it hadn’t spilled from your lips the night John left.

“I asked you a question.” He demands, punctuating it with a sharp shove.

“Daddy.”

“Fucking Christ.” It punches out of his chest, the muscles in his body flexing to their limit. Both hands find your skin then, one securing to your hip, the other holding the back of your head. Leaning in, John rests his face against your neck, moaning freely.

“Again.”

“Daddy, please.” Your fingers rake through his hair, stinging his scalp when you pull on the shorter strands. “Please.”

Tossing your head back gives him perfect access, his teeth digging in. Here, John sucks on your skin, rutting his hips against yours hard enough to slap against your ass. It rings throughout the room, alongside your collective chorus of pleasure. And he drinks in every little noise you make, every cute whimper that slips from your mouth.

“Daddy.”

“I love it,” He can feel you sucking him in, can feel the way your slick drips down his shaft. “Oh Christ, I love that. I take care of you, yeah?”

“Yes, yes and,” Swallowing dryly, you sigh. “I wanna take care of you.”

Together, your hips grind against each other, forcing him in as deep as he can get. Here, he pauses, breathing against your mouth before biting at your lower lip.

“Yeah?” John questions, hand lifting so he can pull at your bottom lip with his thumb. “And how’re you meant to do that, hm?”

Moving slowly, your captain trails his facial hair along your cheek, your jaw, breathing airily against your neck. It runs a flurry of shivers down your neck and chest, arousal curling tightly in your abdomen.

“I want you in my mouth.” Finally, you admit it.

“Oh,” His surprised chuckle makes you feel hot in the face, sheepish. “What an offer that is. But… it’s not gonna happen, not tonight.”

“Why?” It’s a full-on whine; you can’t help it. With how wonderful he feels inside your cunt, you can’t even imagine how delightful he’d feel on your tongue. His heavy girth filling your mouth, leaking down your throat.

“When I’m inside you, princess, feeling you raw,” Now, that ravenous pace returns, that broad body leaning back again to grab at your waist and ass. “I’m not pulling out, not until I’m done with you. And you want daddy to cum, don’t you?”

“Yes, baby. Yes…”

Releasing a harsh grunt, John continues his movements, rutting into your core and throbbing against your welcoming warmth.

“Can feel you dripping down my dick, sweetheart. You wanna cum?”

“John,” Arching up toward his body, you release a high gasp. “Yes! I want more, daddy, please. Please, I want more!”

“Oh, god, you just love it, don’t you?” Snarling, John runs his nose up the column of your neck, taking in your scent. “My lovely little girl wants my dick, doesn’t she?”

He’s whispering in your ear now, listening to your shrill cry of yes while your hand is grabbing at his ass, pulling him further into you. And then, seemingly out of nowhere, he’s grabbing your face and shoving his mouth over your own. It’s rough, mostly tongue and teeth, feeling overcome by his desire for you.

John can feel every twitch of your velvety inner skin, can feel the way your slick drips down his balls. Christ, you get so wet for him, so wet for such an older man.

“So sweet for me,” John huffs beside your cheek, kissing your soft skin obsessively. “Tight as a fucking virgin, aren’t you?”

In the darkness of your room, your body rocks against the mattress, feeling John’s weight keep you down. All you can hear is his voice, his grunts and groans. All you can feel is the firm warmth of his body, his hot breath, his skin damp with sweat.

“Cum for me,” Comes your small whimper, wanting to feel him inside you, wanting to know he’s inside you. “Please, John.”

“No, I need you.” He insists, reaching down between your bodies. Here, his fingers toy with your clit, circling it, squeezing and rubbing it. “C’mon, princess.” John requests, lips beside your ear as he groans. “Cum on this fucking cock.”

“Fuck,” It comes out as a whisper, eyelids pinching shut with your lips falling open.

“Feeling my little soldier… squeezing around my cock.”

“John, John.” The way he touches you makes you see fucking stars, a delicious little heat burning up through your belly.

“Are you gonna cum for me, baby?” John can feel the way you spasm around his length, the way your breathing becomes shallow and erratic. “C’mon, lovie, be good for me. Cum on my cock, cum like you're supposed to. Just make a mess on me.”

“I’m gonna,” You reply, arms wrapping tightly around his neck. Then, your body relaxes, hips jerking up in an involuntary act. And when John feels it, that hot rush of liquid on his pelvis and lower abdomen, he all but loses his goddamn mind.

A groan punches from his chest, stuttering out through his mouth. Your girlish shriek forces his eyes back, feeling you tear skin with how hard you’ve scratched him. And he can’t wait for the boys to ask, he genuinely thinks he’ll tell them this time. Because… it won’t be the first time they’ve inquired about the marks on his back.

At this point, he can’t hold back, he’s grunting into your neck while he absolutely floods your heat. Every spurt is accompanied by a sharp jerk of his hips, his body tensing and flexing and he’s doing everything he can to keep from falling on top of you. His arms hold you, squeeze you, rubbing the hot slick of your cum over both your bodies.

“Mm…” He’s groaning, laying lightly over your chest. Your wetness has bathed his lower stomach and pelvis, the sight and feel and smell driving him mad. “Baby…”

Gently, lazily, he kisses your neck, eyes closed in contentment. And for a moment, you wonder if he’ll stay. You’ve spent nights together before, parting in the morning to fulfill your separate duties. But will he allow himself to leave from your room? To allow the possibility of someone seeing?

“You’re so warm.” Caressing his back, you sigh, drinking in the intimacy of this moment. He’s still inside you, flaccid and just resting. Your combined slick begins to drip from your folds but neither of you seem to care enough to clean it up, not yet.

After a few minutes pass, John releases a saddened breath, muffling into your shoulder, “Should I go?”

“No,” Instantly, you’re tightening your hold on him. “Stay.”

A cocksure grin forms on his face from that, eyes drooping with exhaustion. “You want me to stay?”

“Yes,” It comes out as a small giggle, fingers now running through his hair. “Stay, John.”

#John Price #Captain John Price #John Price you #John Price x reader #John Price x female reader #John Price smut #Call of Duty #Call of Duty fanfiction

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consultingskeletondetective · 1 year ago

Text

Take it, it's yours

Captain Price takes your virginity, of course he's a gentleman about it. Price x female!reader.

masterlist 🩷 ao3

tags: loss of virginity, vaginal sex, unsafe sex, praise kink

You’d been drunk when you’d admitted it, cheeks on fire and not nearly as embarrassed as you should have been. When Captain Price asked if you were dating anyone and you told him you were scared to lose your virginity, scared that it would hurt - you wanted to do it with someone that you trusted. He’d chuckled around his cigar, reminded you you were still young - there’s plenty of time, love - and then you’d really blushed.

“Would you take it for me?” You’d asked shyly. Price had frozen, it was nearly funny, fingers on his whiskey stilling as he stared at you. “I mean, if you don’t want to, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have-”

“No, no.” His voice was more gruff than usual, his eyes still on you. “I’ll do it.”

You were sober now, in Price’s bunk. His thick and large body was lying between your legs, covers pulled up to your shoulders, his hairy chest pressing against your tits as he nudged his cock against your entrance.

You bit your lip.

“Don’t be afraid,” he said under his breath, smiling down at you. You relaxed a little, you tried not to shake, when you felt his cockhead pressing in you and your back arched off of the bed, fists in the sheets.

“Relax, little one,” he said, stilling, “hold on to me, yeah?”

It took some coaxing, but your hands found his meaty shoulders, gripping hard as you willed your breathing to slow. “C-Captain…!”

He chuckled again warmly, “I think we’re a bit past that now, love, eh? Call me John.”

You watched him, his eyes watching you, his lips open and panting, breath smelling like cigar smoke and whiskey and gunpowder. His eyes flickered before he was leaning down and kissing you gently. You moaned, his beard tickling your lips, and he took the distraction to feed a little bit more of his cock into your cunt.

You choked. “S-so big, John,” you whined, “you’re so big…”

“Fuck,” he panted, arms trembling on either side of your head, voice a low growl, “you’re so fucking tight, love. Not even, not even half of my cock in there.”

“Really?” You watched him with big eyes, “there’s more?”

His lips twitched up and he stroked your hair from your face, watching you for any signs of discomfort, as he slowly moved his hips back, and then forward. The covers rustled around the movement, and his cock shifted, not deeper, not right now, just in and out, until your slick was soaking the first few inches of his cock. The squelch was quiet, but it was there.

“Not hurting you?” He grunted as he moved.

You shook your head. “No.”

He hummed in approval, eyes losing focus as he disappeared into your tight, wet cunt in that agonisingly slow pace.

“It feel good, love?”

“It - it feels normal.” You admitted shyly.

“‘Kay, I’m gonna go a bit deeper.”

You didn’t say anything, he looked at you like you were the only thing in the world as he pressed a few more inches of his cock inside you, making you gasp, and resumed his slow, steady fuck.

You let out a stuttered breath without warning and Price smiled hugely, his laugh lines deep, as he stroked your hair again. “That’s it, love, that’s what we want.”

“John,” you choked out, hands migrating from his shoulders to his hips, toes curling in the small of his back. Your cunt was soaking, sucking him in, pleasure spiralling out from that sweet little spot inside you in a way you’d never felt before. “Feels so good, oh my god, please - please go faster.”

“You want more?”

“Yes.”

“Mmm. Not yet, love, just let yourself get used to this first, eh?”

You whined and buried your head in his neck, his constant, steady thrusts pressing up against your swelling sweet spot then leaving again. The pressure ebbed and faded and you felt like you were going mad, until it started to stay when his cock wasn’t even that deep in you, then got more intense when his crown kissed it again. You babbled helplessly, no idea what to do with your legs as you kicked uselessly against Price’s back muscles, feeling them contracting as he fucked you.

“I - I - don’t, what’s…fuck, oh my god, fuck…”

Price’s deep eyes were intense. His chest was sweating against yours, the coarse hair around his pectorals brushing against your sensitive nipples and making you buck.

“You’re going to cum, love,” he said softly, voice deep and wrecked, “don’t panic, just let it happen.”

Your eyebrows tweaked and you tried to watch his face for as long as you could before your eyes rolled back and the pleasure peaked inside your cunt, rushing through your whole body. You shook under him, cunt clenching so hard on his cock that you thought he was going to slip out of you. Price stopped moving, watching you as you came and spasmed all over his cock, leaking white down his length. It seemed to go on forever, even as your heart rate began to calm. Price cursed, and reared back a little, the covers falling around his hips and revealing more of him to you as he pulled his cock out of your heat with his hand. It looked as big as it felt, wet at the tip and down to the thick curve, then dry all the rest of the way to his balls. They were tight, and heavy, and for a mad second you thought you wanted to lick them. You also noticed, with embarrassment, that there was a string of slick connecting the tip of his cock to your pussy hole, and the sheets beneath had a nice, wet patch.

“Why did you pull out?” You asked, eyes slack, wondering if you’d done something wrong.

Price braced his large, veined hand on your knee, breathing heavily. He gave you a gentle smile. “‘Cause you were clenching on my cock so damn hard I thought you were going to milk the cum right outta me.”

You blushed, and pushed yourself up a little. “Isn’t that what’s supposed to happen?” You asked. “I came, now you cum too?”

He glanced up at you and there was something mischievous in those deep eyes. It was these looks that reminded you of how much older he was, and how much that turned you on.

“Uh uh, that’s not how this works, darlin’.” He took his hand off of your knee, and instead stroked his own cock, spreading your slick down to his base. “I don’t cum until you’re spent.”

“But I came?” You nearly whispered, watching his hand on his cock almost jealousy.

“Mhmm.” He growled. “And I bet you’ve got a few more in there for me.”

He laid back between your legs, tapping your pussy with his hard cock and you jolted, before he fed it back into your cunt. He was easier to take this time, you were looser, but your walls were so sensitive you gasped and bucked.

“Oh, John, please-”

He fucked you again, a little harder this time, a little faster, and the effect was immediate. You arched your back and moaned loudly, it was a miracle you didn’t wake up the rest of the squad, that pleasure from before came back but stronger, faster, building in you at an alarming rate until you were digging your nails into Price’s chest, feeling his whole body flex as he fucked you. His large hand travelled up your belly, cupping your tits and he groaned. “Fuck, baby, that’s it, choke my fucking cock, do it again.”

You came as if on command, clenching so hard on Price’s cock that he groaned and stilled, letting you spasm and shake and orgasm.

“You feel incredible, love.” He murmured, fucking you with tiny, abortive little thrusts that had you yelping.

“Look at your fucking cunt,” he said in reverence, watching your soaked labia and your entrance twitch around him. “So fucking sexy, baby, and I haven’t even touched your clit yet.”

He pressed two of his fingers around your clit, revealing the shining nub to him, his other hand rubbing over it as he continued those shallow thrusts and your eyes burst open, gripping around his wrist, mouth curving open as he stroked you damn near mercilessly. Your clit twitched under the attention.

“You’re going to cum again,” he told you gruffly, “can feel it. Let go, love, give it to me.”

You tried to answer him, but nothing came out but a moan as you felt yourself soak his cock, your thighs twitching around his thick waist.

“That’s it, fucking good girl,” he growled, still stroking your clit, except now moisture was flying everywhere. You couldn’t cope, collapsing back onto the bed and twitching helplessly.

You’d played with yourself countless times in the past but you’d never made yourself cum as intensely and as much as John Price could, the man was a god, and it must have shown on your face when he turned your chin to him to get your full attention, watching your eyes as he finally, finally sunk the full length of his cock in you, his balls slapping against your ass, and you groaned in sync.

Your feet locked against the small of his back, keeping him deep as he fucked you again, quick little thrusts that pressed him so deep and fast you knew this was what heaven felt like.

“John,” you whimpered, your whole body jerking wildly as you cupped his jaw, “you feel so good, I can’t stop.”

He didn’t look unaffected, his eyes were wild and his lips were parted, grunting with each thrust.

“M’not gonna last, love.” He finally grunted out, hips not slowing, a sheen of sweat on his forehead and under your fingertips. “You’re going to make me cum.”

“Need you to cum, John,” you begged, rolling your hips down to meet his cock. His jaw clenched then and his hips stuttered. “Want to feel it in me.”

Despite everything, he gave you a rough chuckle. “Not happening, love. I’m too old to have kids, and you’re too young.”

You pouted until you forgot all about it and you came again, squirting messily around Price’s cock and he cursed loudly, pulling out of you quickly. He stroked his cock, base to tip, just the once before he was grunting and cumming all over your stomach.

You watched his cumming cock jerking and spewing thick white ropes that burned your belly where they landed, and your cunt clenched around nothing, before your head flopped back and you struggled to breathe.

There was nothing between you but heavy breathing for a moment before Price was climbing up next to you, pulling you in tight to his sweaty, hairy chest. You could feel his heart beating like mad against your cheek.

“Now,” he still sounded breathless, “not bad for a first time, eh?”

“No,” you agreed with a shy giggle, looking up at him with big eyes. “Thank you.”

He laughed. It was a warm sound, a lovely sound. “You don’t need to thank me for having sex with you, love, I’m the one that lucked out.”

“Really?” You blushed, stroking along his scarred, muscled arms where they held you.

He hummed in response and you let your eyes close against his chest.

“You can sleep, love,” he murmured against the top of your head, “I’m not going anywhere.”

“You’re not?” You asked tiredly.

You just felt his fingers stroking along your back.

“Not until you send me away.”

You fell asleep after that, too warm and happy and lax to fight it, but just about remembered thinking - well, that’s not going to happen.

#fanfiction #call of duty #cod #price x reader #captain price #john price #price cod #smut #cod smut

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