#captain mactavish x f!reader

[ghouljams]

Absolutely cannot have fresh shaved/waxed pussy around the 141 boys.

Soap will cry over it, mourning the loss of your bush and "talking his girl(your pussy) through the loss" ie fingering you until you're soaked and sore as punishment.

Price will make it his mission to give you beard burn, shaking his head like a damn dog while he's eating you out, scratching the hell out of your pussy and thighs with his beard. He's trying to bleach the damn thing you just know it.

Ghost is the worst. Taking the opportunity to leave his dental imprint in the soft flesh surrounding your clit. He's going to bite until you're sobbing just to see the dimpled marks he's left.

At least Gaz is sweet. Pressing little kisses over the newly shaved/waxed skin, giving your clit soft little licks and pulling back to rub his fingers against your clit with gentle praises. Until you realize he's been doing that for the last hour, giving you just enough to keep you making those nice breathy noises but never giving you more. Maybe you should try Soap again...

[femalefemur]

18+ minors do not interact!

so you know that stupid tradition of the groom sticking his head under the bride's dress at the reception to pull the garter off? yeah that but every single one of the 141 would kiss your pussy while doing it.

johnny's full on making out with it over your underwear, leaving it sticking to you from a mixture of his spit and your arousal.

simon's got it pulled to the side so he can plant one directly on it and you can hear the deep rumble in his chest when you gasp in surprise.

kyle would place a kiss right over where your clit is under your underwear before running his tongue up the length of it.

and john would stuff his fingers in you while he gives your clit a harsh suck before letting go with an audible pop, comes out from under there with the garter in his teeth and licking his fingers.

[gloomwitchwrites]

Overheard confessions part 2? You over hear them confess to the team about how they love you and want to have an army of kids with you...or like a lot of dogs on a farm lol

Don't mind me, I'm just shrieking like a hyena over here. I am obsessed with the idea of a part two but from the opposite perspective. What happens when we hear the guys making the confession. I had way too much fun with this one. Just pure glee. Enjoy! (Find Part 1 HERE.)

For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE

Task Force 141 x Female Reader

Content & Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): established relationship, swearing, breeding undertones, suggestive themes, mild alcohol/smoking, fluff, implied sexual content, mild dirty talk

Word Count: 2k

ao3 // main masterlist // imagines & what if masterlist

John Price

“You’re a mess, John.”

You clutch the manila envelope to your chest, coming to a dead stop just outside Captain Price’s office. The door is cracked, your hand pressed flat against the wood with the intent to enter. That flies out the coop. You’re glued to the spot, listening as Laswell continues to speak.

“Have you been getting enough sleep?”

“Care about my sleeping habits, Kate?”

Laswell snorts. “You look tired. What’s on your mind?”

There is a stretch of silence. You don’t dare breathe—don’t dare move. When Price doesn’t answer, you hear Laswell sigh. It’s not an annoyed sound, but one of pity. She knows what troubles him.

“It’s the secretary. Isn’t it?”

A secretary? What secretary?

You comb through all of them in the building. There are only a handful of you—maybe ten total.

“It’s nothing, Kate.”

“Just admit how you feel, John.”

Your hand drops from the door and crosses over your chest. The manila envelope crunches softly against your breasts as you squeeze it tighter.

“What do you want me to say? That I fancy the woman?” He scoffs.

“Yes,” replies Laswell. “It’s that simple.”

Your mind races. Of the ten secretaries in the building, there are maybe three—including yourself—that this could apply to. A blossom of hope blooms in your chest, a racing sensation of your heart palpitating. You shouldn’t wish for it, but for it to be you?

No.

“I’m her superior.”

This time, Laswell scoffs. “She’s not even your secretary, John. She’s mine, and I think you need to say something to her.”

Oh fuck.

It’s you. They’re talking about you.

“Really, Kate?”

“Really, John.” Laswell sighs. “Not to be crude, but maybe if she were getting laid, she wouldn’t hide my cigarettes when my wife tells her to.”

“Christ, Laswell.”

“No, John. Tell me how you feel about her.” He doesn’t. “I’m waiting.”

You hear a grumble on Captain Price’s end, then, “I want to make an army of kids with her. I want to wake up with her beside me and for her to be near when I sleep.” He pauses. “I like the way she throws her head back when she laughs. Her smile.” Then, softly, “I love everything about her.”

There is a tap tap tap of a shoe against linoleum, and then someone’s walking toward the door.

“That’s it, John. Just tell her how you feel and—”

The door opens wide, revealing you. Captain Price and Laswell both freeze. Price’s face goes from surprised to a dark shade of pink. Laswell’s shifts to a knowing smirk.

“Is that the file I asked for?”

“It is,” you affirm.

Laswell nods. “Hand it over to Captain Price. He needs to take a look at it first.”

“Laswell—”

“Goodnight, John,” she calls out, shutting the door behind her, leaving the two of you alone in the room.

Price clears his throat, standing.

“I heard what you said,” you say quickly.

Shit. Shit shit shit.

“I—”

“Wait,” you say, holding up a hand.

Dumping the manila folder on the desk, you circle to his side. Price is perfectly still, watching you the whole time. What you’re about to do is bold.

Placing your hand on his chest, you lean in. His entire demeanor softens as he mimics your movement.

“You said you wanted to make an army of kids with me.”

“It’s one thing I want to do with you.”

Shifting, you inch toward the desk, propping yourself up to sit on top of it. It’s true, you do need to get laid, and why not with a man who is more than willing.

Price’s gaze lowers as you spread your legs.

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

"She's fucking gorgeous, mate."

"Is that all?"

With back pressed against the wall, you listen in on the conversation.

Kyle and Johnny’s voices carry in the small apartment. You linger in the short hallway that leads to the kitchen and dining room. They have no idea that you are home, listening in just around the corner.

“No,” comes Kyle’s voice. It’s not sad but strained, like he’s trying to form the right words but keeps stumbling over what to say.

Anxiety grips your stomach, twisting tight.

"She's everything I want,” says Kyle, this time sounding confident.

"Everything?" Johnny whistles and you hear the creak of a chair. "You looking to marry her?"

The twisting sensation becomes a clamp. A vice grip that closes your throat.

"If she'll have me," answers Kyle immediately.

Johnny chuckles. "You'll marry her and then what? Pop out an army of wee bairns? Adopt a cat and two dogs?"

“All of the above,” answers Kyle. “Or nothing at all. It’s what she wants.”

“Oh, aye,” replies Johnny. “That's a good answer."

The sudden seizing of limb and lung relaxes, returning you to the moment. Your heartrate speeds up, becoming a thundering thing that threatens to burst from your chest. Kyle may be your boyfriend but you never suspected that this is what he wants.

"When do you plan on proposing?" asks Johnny.

"Haven't thought that far," murmurs Kyle.

"Too focused on how you're gonna have that army of barins?" laughs Johnny.

"You wanker,” mutters Kyle, but you hear the smile in it.

"Just remember—”

You cannot hide any longer. It’s unbearable.

Emerging suddenly—and almost tripping over your own foot in the process—the two men go quiet, their gazes widening as you appear like an apparition before them. Between then is an open bottle of scotch and various containers of Kyle’s favorite takeout spot.

Kyle is out of his seat in a second, heading for you. He whispers your name, a soft thing meant only for you, and all your love comes rushing up to warm your cheeks and soften your insides.

As he nears, the words tumble from you. "You want a small army with me?" you whisper.

"You heard that?" he asks.

The next words you form are dangerous yet you say them anyway. "Do you want to start trying?"

You put every ounce of lust you can muster into those few words. Kyle’s bodily response is immediate. His shoulders straighten, and a hungry need enters his eyes. This man is about to drag you to bed and fuck you raw for hours.

"Johnny," snaps Kyle, voice cracking slightly. He clears his throat. "Time for you to go."

John "Soap" MacTavish

A tornado rips through your senses.

Did you hear Johnny correctly? Surely not.

"You don't understand, Simon."

Johnny is in the bedroom pacing around while he talks to Simon on the phone. At your current distance from out in the hall, it’s difficult to hear Simon’s response.

"You're balls deep in a different lass every week. Don't hardly know their names. And you're going to give me shit about this?"

A snort almost escapes your nose, revealing your location. Johnny isn’t wrong. Simon is a notorious slut among Johnny’s group of friends. There is always a different woman on his arm whenever they go out.

Johnny pauses before continuing. "I love this woman. I want a bloody army of bairns with her. Fuck, I'll take an army of animals if that's what she bloody well wants."

He sounds irritated, but you know it’s just his passion. Johnny can be hotheaded, especially when it comes to the people he cares about. Either that or Simon is giving him shit on the other end.

"I need your support, Simon." All is quiet, and then you hear Johnny’s amused snort. "You're always giving me shit, Lt." He chuckles. “I’ll see you tomorrow at brief.”

You slip around the corner and enter the bedroom. Johnny glances up from his phone, his mouth a wide smile upon glimpsing you. “Come here,” he says with a sultry purr, reaching out.

You go to him without effort.

Wrapping you up in his arms, Johnny kisses the top of your head. You tilt your face upward, going in for something softer.

"I heard you talking on the phone,” you murmur, accepting another kiss from Johnny.

"Did you?"

"You want an army of kids?"

Johnny's neck flushes pink. "I may have said that."

Your hug becomes intimate, hands gently caressing until you find the front of his sweatpants. Johnny groans into your mouth as you find him, lightly rubbing him toward hardness. It’s a tease of a touch. The moment he’s throbbing under your hand, you pull away, fingers toying with the strings of his sweatpants.

"You don't mind if we start now?"

Johnny's gentle embarrassment becomes a sultry glare. "Oh, aye. We have the rest of the day and all night to try."

Simon "Ghost" Riley

"I want her, Johnny."

The pan of brownies you’re holding nearly go crashing to the floor. Simon’s words are a brick wall. You’ve been baking all day because it’s the only thing you can do to distract yourself. The plan is to drop them off with Simon and let the boys devour them. Instead, you’re dumbfounded, standing right outside the door to the meeting room Price’s secretary told you to drop the sweets at.

“Who?” asks Soap absently.

When Simon speaks again, it is your name that falls from his lips. Yes, you and Simon are together, but you’re not together. This is fuck buddies. This is friends with benefits. This is…not a relationship.

Or so you thought.

But you’re at his place of work dropping off fucking brownies. The rest of his team call you by your first name. They expect you at functions when they all bring their significant others along. Yet you and Simon are not a couple.

Not officially anyway.

"Oh, aye?” asks Soap, his tone amused. “And does she want you?"

Yes. More than you know.

You’re fully aware that Johnny and Kyle give Simon shit about you. Not because they don’t like you—they adore you—but because they think Simon needs to put a ring on it. They aren’t quiet about it either.

But Simon has never been so forward with his feelings for you. He might tell you sweet things when his dick is deep inside you, but you’ve never heard him be this blunt.

"Don't care. She's mine, Johnny. I'll make sure of that." The mine is almost a growl, a possessive bite that sends a bolt of need to your core.

Johnny chuckles but there’s nothing condescending in it. He sounds…happy.

“Finally, Lt. Fucking finally!”

You hear Johnny enthusiastically smack Simon’s back—or shoulder—and then the man growls like he’s aggressively shaking Simon.

“You’re going to fucking crack my ribs, Johnny.”

“I’m just happy for you, Lt.”

You step forward, pressing your shoulder against the doorframe. They are still out of view, but you don’t want to reveal yourself yet.

“Finally going to make an honest woman out of her?” jokes Soap.

Simon snorts. “I’ll even make you an uncle, Johnny.”

“Me? I expect an army, Lt. Five mini-Riley’s running around.

“Fucking hell, Soap.”

Your cheeks are hot, and you’re standing out in the hall like an idiot. The last thing you need is for one of them to open to door and find you here.

Knocking to announce yourself, you open the door of the meeting room. They turn in your direction, but it’s only Johnny’s face that’s clear to you. Simon is wearing a balaclava, and the only part of him you can see are his eyes.

Johnny’s grin is devilish. “What’s that, love?”

“Brownies?”

He perks up. “Gaz is gonna flip his mug.” You hand them over and Johnny removes the foil on top. “I’m eating this entire pan.”

“Fuck off, Sergeant,” says Simon.

Johnny gives him a half-hearted salute before disappearing out the door, a chunk of brownie already shoved in his mouth.

“You just get here?” asks Simon, sauntering forward.

The soft sway of his hips is a tantalizing thing. You’re hypnotized. Locked in.

“No,” you whisper.

“No?”

“I—I heard you and Soap talking.”

Simon is inches away, his broad chest and shoulders seeming impossibly wide, almost boxing you in.

“What do you think?”

“You want me all to yourself?”

Simon’s voice is a growl. “You’ve always been mine. That’s never changed.”

You place your hand on Simon’s chest. “You promised Soap you’d make him an uncle.”

“I did.”

“And if I want to start right now?”

Simon leans in a bit further, his gaze burning like warm whiskey. “Then you should bend yourself over the table and lift that dress.”

taglist:

@glitterypirateduck @km-ffluv @tiredmetalenthusiast @miaraei @cherryofdeath

@ferns-fics @tulipsun-flower @miss-mistinguett @ninman82 @eternallyvenus

@beebeechaos @smileykiddie08 @whisperwispxx @chaostwinsofdestruction @weasleytwins-41

@saoirse06 @unhinged-reader-36 @ravenpoe67 @sageyxbabey @mudisgranapat

@lulurubberduckie @leed-bbg @yawning-grave81 @azkza @nishim

@voids-universe @iloveslasher @talooolaaloolla @sadlonelybagel @haven-1307

@itsberrydreemurstuff @cod-z @keiva1000 @littlemisscriesherselftosleep @blackhawkfanatic

@sammysinger04 @kylies-love-letter @dakotakazansky @suhmie @kadeeesworld

@keiva1000 @jackrabbitem @arrozyfrijoles23 @lovely-ateez @waves-against-a-cliff

@ash-tarte @marispunk @gingergirl06 @certainlygay @greeniegreengreen

[oceantornadoo]

something borrowed, something blue masterlist

john price, head of the price mafia family, needs a wife. luckily, simon riley has an unmarried sister and a need for resources. only problem? prices and rileys don't exactly mix well...

AO3 LINK

the proposal

the meeting

wedding week

the wedding

the honeymoon

a week of friendship

a bookstore in the making

mended bonds

an almost fresh start

past dreams and current nightmares

snitches and rats

found you

...

this is an enemies to lovers, arranged marriage mafia au! john price x f!reader. reader is simon's half sister. all of our four boys will be featured (eventually). the "enemies" part is mutual disdain, not life or death enemies. lots of cheeky banter here. it is medium burn, since the lines of "hate" and passion can be easily crossed. the rileys are a smaller manchester gang and the prices are in charge of london's biggest mafia. i am american so some places/slang/logistics might be not be right!! don't hate me! i am googling manchester/london slang but if you have some recs, feel free to comment. more to come <3

tag: fic: sbsb mafia price

taglist is closed, pls turn on notifs <3

[dmitriene]

continuation to this work

cw: possible authority, threesome, gangbang, comfort part with tears.

you're doing your best for simon riley, your lieutenant, one and only man you offer your body and soul to so rawly, hold out in your shaking palms for him to do anything he pleases, and you wouldn't refuse, as obedient, sweet like a pup he raised all for himself, accepting everything he gives you, any word, command, caress or a harsh, possessive tug.

shaped for him, you learn to arch your back sharp and wait, in his quarters, on his dark sheets, naked and presenting, doesn't matter if simon comes in tired, angry or almost boneless, he indulges in your sweet body anytime he can, calloused fingers skimming down the fragile curvature of your spine, pressing, circling at the tender skin, knowing that you're already dripping down your quivering thighs.

simon invited john to your sacred relationship, letting him indulge in your tight, pliable hole, always messy, stretched out around your lieutenant's thick, engorged cock and dripping out frothy globs of cum, soaking in the rumbled sheets below your twitching body, price doesn't waits anymore before sinking in, filling you pleasantly, cock heavy and fat, nudging against your spongy spot and making you claw forward.

nuzzling against simon's muscular thigh, his cock leaking precum against the small pudge on his stomach, you whine out, voice already slurred, stuttering little calls to them both, as john's drawn out, deep ruts of hips jolt your body forward, folding your knees against your tummy by the force of his body, slotting over your back, making you slump and cry weakly in filling pleasure.

and if you accepted price, sure there shouldn't be any problem if simon will invite two more, johnny and kyle, you hear their names buzzing in your ears, clogged, unable to comprehend anything more than the heavy weight of john's flaccid cock on your drooling, wriggling tongue, he's spent already, pumped you full enough so his seed would dribble out, now contented to just smooth his rough palms over your warm, hollowed cheeks.

body fervent, you're already too overstimulated to proceed, your cunt twitching and leaking loads of cum, but when simon pats down the swell of your ass, thumb spreading at the fat, revealing your swelling hole, purring how obedient and pretty you are, you can't say no when he asks if boys can have a taste, eyes wide and excited, cerulean blues meeting the honeyed irises, so easy to make their cocks hard in their cargos, as they marvel at the sight of you.

no matter what, it's still simon in who's hands you end up, snuggled tight against his solid, heaving chest, little hairs that dust his skin are a soothing caress against your wet cheeks, heat dissipating from your skin slowly, you cried, when it's all got too much, their cocks, their hands, playful kisses bordering on aggressive and back, rugged, tanned skin turning into ebony, softened, and then repeating, johnny and kyle both different sides of each other, but able to act together as if synchronized.

simon didn't made you wait when you started crying, worried, eyes crinkled, furrowing alongside his brows at such emotional display, he wasn't interested if they got enough of you, batting an urgent, heavy hand and making them all take a step back, john already dressed and confused, arms crossed tight over his chest, murmuring something to the boys, nothing you can remember, before ending up tucked under clean, cottony sheets.

when you start to recognize your surroundings back again, twisting to the side a bit, the arm around you tightens, muscular, wretched with tattoos, simon, you think contentedly, and seems by the grumble he let out, vibrating away from his chest, you croaked his name out, as he brushed a soothing thumb over your tummy, cupping at the supple skin, making you mold back against his body, mind dissolving back into the deep slumber.

you can be your lieutenant's pup, but he's responsible for your well being and comfort, and should you show any signs of being uncomfortable, hurt, or worse, simon is overtaken with a primal need, to protect, to heal, and to soothe, hide you in his embrace from the overwhelming world around.

main masterlist. quidelines.

[fictionismyreality3]

Penpals with the 141

Warnings: stalkerish behaviour at the end teehee 🤭

Notes: if only I had a hot military man or men to send letters to 🤷🏻‍♀️😩

It started out as just another way to keep the boredom away. Sending care packages to military members was also a plus. You'd be staying busy and doing a good deed at the same time. You found some trustworthy-enough organization, signed up, and sent out your first letter along with a few goodies like choclates and warm socks.

The 141 had never really thought much about getting care packages from civilians. In their eyes it was just a good way to get the things they missed out on while on deployment. Most of the letters got tossed as soon as they opened the box.

That was until they got yours.

The stupid little smiley face drawn on the cardboard shouldn’t have stopped Simon in his tracks, but he found himself staring down at the doodle.

"L.T? Y'been standin' there fer a good 15 minutes." Soap remarked.

"S'that your favourite candy, right?"

Soap was swayed by the chocolate oranges, finding himself reading your letter as he scarfed down each wedge. The curly handwriting, the crossed out and rewritten words had him showing the letter to Gaz, and then Price. Soon you found yourself in an almost penpal situation. Over the exchange of more and more letters, you were able to dicern the personalities of each man who was writing to you.

There was Soap, who wrote in barely legible chicken scratch, often skipping words or even entire sentences, like he was thinking too fast for his hand to keep up. Always calling you 'bonnie' or 'lass'.

Gaz, who wrote much more formally. His hand writing was the best to read, neatly printed on the lines of the paper. You got the sense that he sat down and put his whole attention into writing back to you.

Ghost, who's name you were yet to learn, tacked on his responses at the end of the paper. It was rare to get more than a few sentances from him, and even rarer for them to be anything but small talk. Slowly, he began to open up, asking you how you were or if your boss had resolved that HR issue yet. How did he know that?

Price, who'd quickly insisted on you calling him John— makes me feel old, luv— was the one who you seemed the most interested in your life. You chalked it up to him wanting to have something to think about other than his life threatening job.

Questions about your living situation, your job, your hobbies, it all seemed like small talk. Easy enough to look over. And then came the questions about your bills. Does your job pay enough? When's the last time you've been on vacation? What does your ideal living situation look like? Are you in a relationship?

It wasn't just John who was asking. So were Gaz, Johnny, and even Ghost began to inquire about more personal details. Every time you got a letter, it was almost a pavlovian response for your cheeks to blush. You looked forwards to the letters from your far away military men, and they even sent you gifts!

A watch, just like the one on your pinterest, wrapped up in a pretty pink bow. They added on such a sweet note too.

"Synced up to our watches." Ghost.

"Thought you needed a little treat." Gaz

"Here you go, bonnie! Now you can know when we're awake!" Soap.

"Let me know if you need it tightened, sweetheart." John.

They didn't feel the need to tell you about the favour they called in with Laswell to get the micro-tracker added, or about the camera and microphone they planted in the watch face. You looked so pretty with it on anyways, they'd need to make sure nobody stared too long.

[scoobywrites690]

Poly141 who have to take serious thought over what order people get to fuck you in. they obviously cant all fuck you in one night as it's just to much for your poor little cunt to take (and trust me they've tried) so they've gotta put serious thought into who's fucking you tonight and in what order.

they know from experience that Price cant go first as his main focus during sex is your pleasure over his so, by the time he's done with you your too overstimulated to take anymore.

Ghost is way too big to go first and if he does he's gotta spend a chunk of that time stretching out your tight little cunt on his thick fingers before he can even think about bullying his cock inside of you.

Soap cums way too quickly for him to even begin to stretch you out for the others, you aren't even able to reach an orgasm yourself before hot thick ropes of his cum are shooting inside of you.

and Gaz likes to take his time with you, to tease you, to fill you with pleasure and just when you're at your breaking point he rips it away, causing you to whine out as your body squirms underneath him. now this wouldn't be a big deal if he didn't have multiple other men waiting to get their fill. and making them wait for something they so desperately desire isn't the best idea (again another thing they know from experience)

So, it's really quite a struggle for these men to come up with a solution for an order. I'm sure they'll figure it out eventually.

I haven't proof read yet so i apologise for mistakes <3

[storiesaplenty]

Who fucked you better? (18+)

141 Task Force x f/Reader

Call of Duty Masterlist

This has not been proofread. Please enjoy though.

Warnings: swearing. Smut below the cut. Unprotected sex. P in V. Oral. Creampie. Anal sex. Use of toy. Recording sexual acts. Oral (m receiving) cum swallowing. Ball sucking. Cowgirl.

WC: 1740

Divider by @strangergraphics

©️ storiesaplenty 2024: do not repost or translate my work. This is the only place I post my work.

Captain John Price

"Yes, love, let them all hear you." John groaned as he fucked into you from behind. You are flat against the bed, your hips slightly raised just enough for him to pound you into his mattress.

His hips slamming off your ass making you cry out his name as you reach back and place one hand on his stomach to try and get him to slow down, but he has a point to prove, not only to himself, but to you and his men.

He slapped your hand away, reaching around your body to grip you by the neck and pull you against his hairy body.

"Who the hell do they think are? Huh?" His thrusts were now hard, rough, choppy.

"John please." You whined.

"Asking if I can take care of you? Think they can love you like I can?"

"No." You whimpered, your pussy clenching around his cock at how possessive he was being."

"Think anyone of those 'boys.' can fuck you like I can? Make you cream the way I know how? Bet they couldn't make you squirt? Oh no, only I can." John groaned into your ear, is end drawing near.

"Bet none of them can make you go stupid with just their cock? My smart woman goes all dumb the moment my cock is in one of your pretty, little holes."

"John!" You practically scream as you came. Your pussy clenching so tight around his cock that John followed right behind you.

His hips stilling against your ass as he cums inside of your pussy, making you softly moan at how he is filling you.

"You better?" You finally asked, pulling away from him with your wobbly legs, to go over to the dresser and turn off the camera, hitting send to send to the group chat that you have with the guys.

"Much better darling." John said, as he grabbed a cigar and lit it, hearing your phone vibrate as you kiss your way down his hairy, sweaty body, taking his softening cock in your mouth and sucking.

"Can't wait to see what you do with the others. Those lads trying to prove how good they can fuck you, compared to me."

Sergeant Kyle “Gaz” Garrick

"Relax baby. I got you." Kyle said as he trailed his hand down your back, as he pushed his thumb in your tight, ass.

You were trying to relax, you really were, but it has been a bit since he fucked you there.

Kyle put the tip against the hole as he pulled his thumb out, and slowly started to push in, making you gasp out his name.

He had his phone set up to record the two of you as he slowly pushed his cock into your ass.

He had another spare phone, pointing at your ass to record him sinking into your ass, until his hips were flushed against ass.

"Oh fuck." He quietly moaned as every single inch was inside of you. Your body was trembling at how full you fell.

He put a vibrating dildo in your pussy earlier as he has seemed to turn up the vibration making your eyes screw shut as you moan out his name, squeezing his cock with your ass.

"Gonna make me cum before I can give you a proper fucking." Kyle warned as he pulled back and thrust his hips forward, forcing a whine from your lips.

Kyle kept the slow pace, making you go crazy, as you needed more, even though by now you didn't know how to voice it, going dumb on his cock.

You moved your ass back each time he thrust back into you.

"You need me to go faster love?" He asked with a smile on his face.

"Yes, faster. Need it." Came the jumbled words spilling from your lips.

That was all Kyle needed to plunge his cock over and over again into your hole, making you scream his name, not caring about if anyone could hear you.

You collapsed forward, turning your face towards the one phone, your mouth hanging open as he fucked you.

Kyle placed one foot on the bed, making him feel even deeper inside of you.

He was groaning behind you, but you couldn't make out what he was saying as you cried out his name as another orgasm was pulled from you.

Your pussy and ass squeezing the dildo and his cock as he fucked your ass through your orgasm.

You lost track and how much you have cum by the time Kyle stilled, flushed against your ass as he groaned, loudly as he filled your hole with cum.

He couldn't help himself as he pulled back just to push back in a few times.

Kyle pulled out and brought the phone down to watch as his cum leaked out of your stretched hole, the vibrating dildo still in your pussy.

"Mmmm, I like to see any of them top that." Kyle said, issuing another challenge to the final two.

Sergeant Johnny “Soap” MacTavish

Johnny's name came out like a prayer as you rode him. His strong hands gripping your waist, helping you set the pace which you both need.

You have nothing idea which angle he is filming the two of you from.

"It's a suprise." He told you as he wrapped your hair around his fist as he fucked your face earlier.

The remnants of that drying on your lips and chin. The taste of him still fresh on your tongue.

But that seemed like a distant memory as the tip of his cock seemed to be nudging your cervix, making sure you remember him for days after this.

Your third orgasm of the night already knocking at your door as you grinded in his lap.

"So deep." You cried out.

"Yeah I am love." Johnny said, smugly, as he braced his feet on the bed and started to thrust up into you, making you brace your hands on his chest, digging your nails into his skin, leaving little indents there.

Suddenly, he wrapped his arms around your waist, flipping you the two of you over, so he is hovering above you.

Johnny leaned back, his cock still nestled inside your pussy, as he gripped your calves and pushed your legs towards your chest, making your eyes roll into the back of your head at the first hard thrust.

Your mouth hanging open as he fucked you at a rough, brutal pace that had your mouth fall open in a silent scream as he pulled another orgasm from you.

Your body shaking at how intense this orgasm is.

"Fuck." Johnny grunted as he pulled out, jerking his cock as stood up on the bed, to stand above you before sitting on his knees, which are now placed on either side of your head.

You take his balls in your mouth as he jerks his cock off above you.

Johnny is looking down at you, as you pull your mouth back from his balls, making a popping sound.

He moved down a bit just to place the tip of his cock on your tongue just as you closed your mouth around the tip.

Johnny's moans seemed to bounce off the walls as he came in your mouth, you quickly swallowing as fast as you can.

"Fuck me." He groaned as he got off the bed, grabbing a phone from one of his hiding places.

He trailed it up and down your body, until stopping at your face.

"Oh, you missed a bit there." Johnny said as he swiped his cum from the corner of your mouth with his thumb, placing it in your mouth as he closed your eyes, sucking his finger clean.

"Yes, that's it." Johnny said to you, tossing his phone to the side to go for another round.

Lieutenant Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley

"Si," You couldn't even get his name out, your head leaning against his chest.

Your arms were reaching behind you, holding onto his neck, his hands spreading your thighs wide as his cock was nestled inside your pussy.

That is already sensitive due to Simon spending what felt like an eternity between your legs, making you cum on his and fingers twice.

All of a sudden, Simon stood up, his arms moving under your thighs, moving you up and down his cock, like you weighed nothing.

Simon moved the two of you, never once leaving your oussy as he halted in front of the full length mirror.

"Open your eyes." He grunted, you not even realising that your eyes were closed .

You forced your eyes open to watch as he moved you uo and down, his cock disappearing in and out of you.

You could see how wet you were as your juices coated his cock.

You couldn't believe that you could actually take all of him inside of you.

The others are big, but Simon, Simon is thick and long.

"Look at how well you take me, eh love."

He moved you up and down on his cock, faster and faster until you became almost limp on his arms as you came around his cock.

Simon quickly pulled out of you and turned you in his arms, before tossing you on the bed, you landing on your stomach.

Simon moved you onto your knees before grasping your hips and thrusting inside you once more before you could even blink.

Simon fucked you like there was no tomorrow, and you swear you blacked out every few moments.

"Yes, squeeze my cock lovie." Is what you heard as you woke up to you coming around his cock, him fucking you through your orgasm.

Simon changed the angle of his hips and was hitting that spot inside of you that had you screaming his name as he pulled orgasm after orgasm from your quivering body.

Simon finally stilled, his hips flushed against your ass as he came with a grunt.

His cum filling you as he smacked your ass a few times, making you yelp, and squeeze his cock with your pussy one final time.

"Shit love." Simon groaned as he pulled out of you.

You collapsing on the bed, not watching where he was walking too.

You felt your phone land next to you, and you could see the screen lighting up from the group chat.

They were each asking the same question.

'Who fucked you better?'

[ghouljams]

(Tw noncon) Falling asleep on the train home and waking up to two massive men pressing against either side of you. Suddenly caged into a tiny space by their wide spread legs you try to get up only for one of them to pull you back down and the other to settle a hand on your thigh. Too high on your thigh. You glance at the handsy one and he gives you a smile under his beard, you glance at the other and feel yourself shiver at the hungry look in his eye and the skull patterned mask.

You grab the bearded one's wrist when his hand slides up your thigh, his fingers tantalizing close to the seam of your trousers. It does little to deter him. Mostly just makes it slightly harder for him to press his fingertips against your clothed cunt.

"Be better if she was wearin' a skirt." The one in the mask says.

"We'll make it work." Beard replies.

You cast a furtive look around the train car, or attempt to, most of your view is blocked by two men standing in the middle of the aisle chatting casually. You try to catch one of their eyes as the mask grabs your wrist and slides your hand against the front of his jeans. The straining length of his cock feels monstrous and warm even though the denim.

One of the men chatting finally glances your way and smiles, before raising a finger to his lips.

[gloomwitchwrites]

Need 141 with a virgin reader 🙏

Virgin reader? Having sex for the first time?? On it. Another popular request with several people asking for it. Decided to combine it all into one large post. And, since this is just an excuse to write smut, that's exactly what I did. I hold no shame for that. I had a blast, lots of cackling as I was drafting. Have fun, y'all!

For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE

Task Force 141 x Female Reader

Content & Warnings: oral sex (female & male receiving), unprotected piv, creampie, missionary, vaginal fingering, loss of virginity, rough sex, sex toys, doggy, spanking, just married, hand job

Word Count: 3.1k

ao3 // main masterlist // imagines & what if masterlist

John Price

You were told to stay away, to not chase after him. But you love danger, even though you’ve never truly tasted it.

“I won’t go easy on you because you’re a virgin.” John’s voice is poisoned sin. His thumb brushes over your bottom lip. It drags on it a bit, drawing it down, showing him your teeth. “You’ll fuck the way I tell you to.”

John retreats, your lip popping back into place. He sits on the edge of the bed, legs spread, completely dressed. It’s the opposite of your current state. Kneeling before him, you’re entirely bare—exposed.

You signed up for this—wanted this.

On the floor between John’s booted feet is a dildo. The base is a flat square and suctioned to the floor. It juts upward with a slight curve to it, the shaft ribbed. John pops open a bottle of lube and holds it out. You immediately present your hand. The clear gel is cold when it makes contact with your palm. John caps the bottle.

“Do what I told you.” John nods toward the dildo. “Show me how’d you’d touch me if that were me.”

You do as he says, wrapping your hand around the dildo, the lube spreading to coat the silicone as you move up and down in the way you think you’re supposed to. There is no experience to lead your hand. John watches silently, face stoic and vacant of emotion. It isn’t until the dildo is coated in lube that John leans forward and grabs your wrist.

Turning your palm upward, John lightly tugs. It’s a command to come to him.

Placing your free hand on his knee, you shift forward. Still kneeling, you settle between his spread legs, the lube-coated dildo rubbing up against the inside of your thigh.

“If I were to fuck you right now, I might hurt you.” John’s gaze drops to the dildo. “You’re going to sink down on that. Take your time. Ride it a bit. And once you’re prepped for me, I’m taking you how I want.”

His words freeze your limbs. You are unable to move—unable to think.

“Go on, love. Show me.”

John’s voice is the coaxing tease that pulls you from your vacant lull. Licking your lips, you sit up on your knees, spreading them enough to angle the head of the dildo and your entrance. You’ve never been penetrated before, not even with a toy or fingers.

But he said you could go slow. Go at your own pace.

With fingers digging into his knee, you start to come down, the head slipping in. As more enters, you whimper, the stretch stinging a bit.

“Slow,” murmurs Price. “Breathe through it. That’s it.”

You listen to his soothing words, sinking further and further down until you can’t take any more.

“Come back up. Like that. Good. Now, down.” As you start to descend, the dildo starts to vibrate. You gasp, and then moan loudly as the vibrations stimulate a sensitive spot inside.

“Again,” growls John.

You move in earnest this time, not caring if your movements look weird or if it’s messy. John is staring at you with hunger in his eyes, and you’ve never felt more wanted.

With his free hand, John undoes his belt and then the front of his pants. His cock emerges, already dripping and hard. He brings your lube-coated hand to it, and you enthusiastically start pumping him the way you did the dildo even as you rock back and forth. It’s only a few strokes more before your hand job slows, the vibrations from the dildo building up the first orgasm of your life. It doesn’t seem to bother John in the least, not when your eyelids flutter and you grind down, almost crying as you fall apart.

The dildo is still vibrating inside you when John stands and hooks his hands beneath your armpits. He helps you off and onto your feet.

“My turn, love.”

You only nod, breathing heavy as John guides you onto your hands and knees on the bed. There’s a shuffling and then John’s hand is on your upper back pressing your front into the bed, leaving your ass high in the air. As the head of his cock enters, his hand slides upward to your neck and then to your head. There, he presses, pushing your face into the bed as he thrusts forward, sinking into your body.

You cry out, fists clenching the sheets. The dildo might have helped but that was you doing the work. This is all John, fucking you savagely, skin slapping against skin as you’re drilled into the bed. The hand not at your head is on your ass, pushing your hips higher, opening you wider for him to hit deeper.

Every few thrusts that hand comes down on your ass with a sharp slap, bouncing your cheek and stinging with each strike. All you can do is take it, but it’s deliciously devilish.

You wanted this, and you can’t help but smile.

John "Soap" MacTavish

“Is that okay?”

You start to curl into yourself, sinking further into the pillows behind you on the bed.

Johnny’s head tilts slightly. “Course it’s okay, love. Think I care if you’re experienced or not?”

You shrug. “Some men do.”

He shakes his head, the hint of a laugh on his breath. Leaning in, he seizes your mouth with his own. The kiss is sweet—welcoming. You melt like softened butter. With your surrender comes an intensifying need, an electricity that buzzes between your bodies.

Johnny offers more: a deeper kiss and strong hands trailing along your body. Your legs fall open of their own volition and Johnny slots himself between, pressing you deeper into the pillowy softness beneath you.

Every touch is tinged with desperation. You find yourself clinging to him, fingers digging into the muscles of his back, pulling him closer though there is no room. Johnny matches your hunger, the two of you a tangled nest of limbs and want.

You’ve explored, you’ve been kissed, and yet you’ve never gone all the way with anyone.

But with Johnny, you do.

Johnny breaks the kiss, the two of you gasping for air. He descends, nuzzling your neck, lips tracing along the pulse point there.

“You want me to continue?” he asks, voice raspy.

You hook a leg over the back of his thigh in answer.

Johnny’s hands move up and down the sides your body, squeezing and groping as they go, leaving nothing untouched. His lips descend, finding your shoulder and collarbone, then the curve of your breast. His tongue circles a nipple, and then lightly sucks it into his mouth.

You gasp, back arching, unable to comprehend the sensation. Playing with them yourself is nothing compared to the way Johnny worships them, how he takes his time, cupping each one to kiss and suck and lick.

Johnny brings the nipples to stiff points, and still, he does not cease—not until you’re wiggling, wanting more than this.

“Johnny,” you whimper, wanting to feel him everywhere, to feel him inside.

He glances up from between your breasts, a small smirk on his face. “Keep going?” he asks.

“Please,” you beg, because it’s all you can muster.

Lips trail over stomach and pelvic bone, each leg draped over a shoulder. Johnny tenderly kisses your inner thighs.

“Am I the first to taste you?” he asks, one finger gently sliding over your sex. You’re dripping—needy, pussy clenching with every touch. You nod, and Johnny’s smirk becomes a full grin. “An honor then.”

He spares you nothing. Johnny isn’t interested in coaxing you anywhere. There is no softness, no gentleness since this is your first time. Johnny is ravenous, drawing his tongue up and down your pussy, dipping inside before swirling up to tease your clit. He plays with you until your thighs shake and you push on his head.

It’s too much, and still, Johnny persists.

When he slips one finger inside, and then a second, that is when he lifts his head. He pumps lazily, eyelids heavy, lips and chin wet.

“I’m making camp here. Don’t expect to be leaving soon.”

His mouth returns to your clit, and you completely forget yourself. You lose words and thoughts, becoming numb and weightless, as if you’ll float upward like a balloon. Just because you’re a virgin, why did you think Johnny would spare you? That he would go slowly?

Johnny ceases only when tears run down your cheeks. He licks them up, and then kisses you with your release painting his lips. “Gonna fuck you now,” he murmurs, the head of his cock pressing against your sex.

His large, muscled arms press into the pillows on the either side of your head. Hips shifting, Johnny starts to sink in. There’s a brief flicker of resistance and then nothing, just all pleasure, and Johnny stretching you. You gasp, and Johnny groans loudly, head falling back as he settles in to the hilt.

“Fucking hell. You’re tight. Fuck—”

Johnny continues to swear, to mutter expletives under his breath as he slides out and then back in. Two more thrusts and Johnny is shaking his head. “I’m already—fuck, love. I’m gonna come.”

Johnny becomes a boulder, nearly flattening you against the bed as he thrusts once, twice, and then holds still, the muscles in his body stiffening slightly and then relaxing. A little shudder runs through him, and a new, warm wetness fills your pussy.

Simon "Ghost" Riley

The gold wedding band on Simon’s finger shines in the low lamp light.

This man is all yours. Forever. Til death do you part.

And yet, you’ve never slept with him, never shed your clothes and become one. Not that the two of you have been entirely celibate your relationship. There were desperate moments when the two of you came together in the dark, but knowing that you didn’t want to have sex until after marriage, Simon made the effort to steer you away from breaking that promise.

He didn’t have to. He could have taken advantage. It’s what plenty of other men would have done. But Simon isn’t just any man. You told him what you wanted, and even in your most desperate moments when you begged for him, he kept you to it.

Now, the ceremony is done.

The two of you made a quiet exit after the dancing started. You thought you’d be exhausted, that the two of you might order some pizza and fall asleep to some reality show playing in the background.

But Simon is removing his tie, unbuttoning the front of his white shirt, black suit jacket tossed to the side. He glances over his shoulder at you, and you see a hunger there. There won’t be pizza or a reality show marathon.

“Come here,” he says, and your feet move without hesitation. His arms are powerful, ensnaring you the second you’re close enough to reach for. Simon’s fingers brush over the fabric of your wedding dress, tracing the beadwork and detail. “Need help with this?”

You don’t, but you give him your back anyway.

Simon takes his time, unzipping the dress like you’re a delicate present. The moment there’s bare skin, he leans down and places his lips there. A little shiver runs through you, followed by a growing ache.

Hands sliding beneath fabric, Simon eases it over your shoulders, down your arms, and to your hips. You join in, helping it over your curves to pool at your feet on the floor. Simon caresses a line down one arm before backing away.

As you turn, he loosens his belt, opening it up to unzip his dress pants and popping the button. He walks backward toward the bed, easing down to the edge of the bed. Slowly, he falls back onto his shoulders, stretched out and a bit disheveled.

“Go on, love. Do what you want.”

All this time, you’ve talked a big game, begged him for sex, described what you want from him when the time finally comes. It’s here, and yet you’re frozen to the spot, gaze fixed on his muscled stomach.

“I’m all yours.”

Slowly, you walk toward him, placing one knee on the edge of the bed. Simon’s hand promptly reaches for you, resting against your thigh a moment before sliding up and squeezing. Though Simon appears in control of himself, you notice the way his chest heaves with every breath he takes.

Swinging your leg up and over, you straddle his lap. Both of his hands are on you now, groping and touching, dragging you closer to him until your bodies are sandwiched together.

“Simon,” you sigh, leaning in to brush your lips against his.

“Fuck it,” he growls, scooping you up in his arms, and flipping you onto your back.

Pinning you beneath him, Simon claims your mouth—devouring you like it’s his due. And you are not immune, wanting him just as much, pulling at his dress shirt to reveal more of him. Simon doesn’t undress you, leaving the white bra, thong, and stockings untouched. Instead, he pushes the thong to the side, fingers seeking your arousal.

He drags his middle finger up and down your sex, groaning against your throat as he does so.

“Need you,” he groans. “Need to be inside you.”

You reach for his pants, shoving at them hastily, needing the same.

“Take me, Simon. Please. Want to feel you.”

Simon joins in your hunger, pushing his pants down enough for his hard cock to emerge. You’re already grabbing at him, already guiding him to your entrance. You don’t care that it might hurt, that you could be wetter—slicker. You just want Simon inside you. You want him everywhere.

With a low groan, Simon urges your legs wider, and then he’s easing inside. You gasp at first, the stretch of him a bit painful.

“You can take me, love,” he murmurs.

Fingers digging into his shoulders, you burying your face against his throat as Simon’s hands slide under your ass to prop your hips up. It gives him a better angle to drive home, to fit your bodies together until you’re flush against him.

“Mine,” he murmurs as his cock slowly slides out. “Mine,” he repeats, this time growling as he thrusts forward.

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

“We’ll go slow. There’s no rush.”

Kyle’s words are a comfort, a soothing balm against the anxiousness. You’re excited, eager, but nervous all the same. You love this man. You want to be with him in all ways, especially this.

His kiss is slow and languid, just as comforting as his words. It is easy to trust him, to allow his presence to chase away whatever trepidation you hold. He cradles your face and your body, taking his time, showing you with his actions that his words have meaning.

Between kisses, Kyle’s hands roam, caressing and exploring. His touch is electric. Wherever his skin touches yours sends a small shiver through your body.

“All good?” asks Kyle, pausing his delicious kisses, gaze roaming over your body.

“Yes,” you breathe, leaning in for more.

He opens up, offering his own greed in return. When his hands start to work at your clothes, you happily help him, reaching for him as much as he’s reaching for you. Clothes are discarded, but Kyle doesn’t faulter.

“You’re beautiful,” he breathes, fingers dancing across your bare body. “Do you want to touch me?”

“Touch you?” you giggle, because you’re already touching him.

His smile is soft as he takes your hand and guides it to his erection. “Here,” he groans as your fingers find him.

Kyle does not instruct, he simply gives you permission to explore, to run your fingers along the length, to brush your thumb over the slit where a pearly bead blooms, to bring that thumb to your mouth to taste him.

“You’re a bit salty,” you murmur, and Kyle chuckles.

Curiosity gets the better of you. As you press on his shoulders, urging him onto his back, you wiggle downward, intent on licking the next drop up from the source.

“Wait,” groans Kyle, grasping the back of your neck. “Don’t.” You glance up, not understanding. He shakes his head. “I’ll be done in seconds if you do that.”

He urges you back into his arm, and then Kyle is kissing you again, the two of you exploring with your hands. As Kyle delves between your legs, you open for him, sighing with pleasure as the tip of one finger circles your clit.

“This okay?” he whispers against your lips. You hum with contentment and Kyle shifts that finger down to your entrance, slowly sliding it in. “What about this?”

His palm presses against your clit as he penetrates you with a second finger. Your back arches, hips rocking forward to take more.

“That’s a yes, love,” he croons. “Ride it. Take what you need.”

You don’t care if you look ridiculous, you only know what your body wants, and seeking it out. Kyle stays perfectly still, watching you ride his fingers, watching where his fingers disappear and reappear with every rock of your hips. The flat of his palm perfectly rubs against your clit, and it takes only a minute before your pussy clenches around his fingers.

“That’s it,” he murmurs, kissing your jaw as your orgasm rockets upward and explodes, splitting like an atom bomb.

You don’t even realize he’s withdrawn his fingers until he’s sucking them clean and pushing you onto your back. The head of his cock settles, and then presses is. You gasp at the brief resistance.

“You can take me,” whispers Kyle. “Relax. Breathe.”

He doesn’t move, just waits, and when your breathing begins to slow, he gives you a bit more. The resistance is gone, leaving only a delicious stretch that makes you feel utterly full.

Kyle’s rhythm is a soft rocking. You feel every inch leaving and then returning.

“This is the pace. You tell me if you want more.” Kyle’s voice is rough—laced with lust. You can tell that he wants to be a bit rough, that he’d love to hold you down and fuck you senseless, but he’s purposefully being gentle to not rush you—to make you feel loved and safe.

He kisses you as he thrusts, looking into your eyes, murmuring sweet words.

“More,” you murmur, sensing the growing orgasm. You want to chase it, to find your end with him.

Kyle smiles, and urges your legs wider.

taglist:

@glitterypirateduck @km-ffluv @tiredmetalenthusiast @miaraei @cherryofdeath

@ferns-fics @tulipsun-flower @miss-mistinguett @ninman82 @eternallyvenus

@beebeechaos @smileykiddie08 @whisperwispxx @chaostwinsofdestruction @weasleytwins-41

@saoirse06 @unhinged-reader-36 @ravenpoe67 @sageyxbabey @mudisgranapat

@lulurubberduckie @leed-bbg @yawning-grave81 @azkza @nishim

@voids-universe @iloveslasher @talooolaaloolla @sadlonelybagel @haven-1307

@itsberrydreemurstuff @cod-z @keiva1000 @littlemisscriesherselftosleep @blackhawkfanatic

@sammysinger04 @kylies-love-letter @dakotakazansky @suhmie @kadeeesworld

@keiva1000 @jackrabbitem @arrozyfrijoles23 @lovely-ateez @waves-against-a-cliff

@ash-tarte @marispunk @gingergirl06 @certainlygay @greeniegreengreen

[oceantornadoo]

ch5 something borrowed something blue (mafia!price x simon's sister!reader)

tw: more mild dubcon groping and fingering

masterlist | next

It’s been a while since John Price woke up with a woman in his arms. He can’t say he hasn’t missed it.

Your skin is soft, the addicting smell of lilac radiating off you in waves. You’re tucked into the nape of his neck like a cat, curling the rest of your body around him like you’ve been doing this for years, not days.

Gaz was right. He’s fucked.

The penthouse bed is a King, taking up half of the room. The two of you went to sleep on opposite sides, a chasm between you, but in the late hours, you’d somehow met in the middle. He wasn’t going to force you to consummate the marriage. John Price is many things, but not a rapist. He figured you’d get to know each other a little, at least respect one another, before doing the deed in a clinical matter. If he needed sex, which he didn’t really, he could go somewhere else. 

Except since the night at his club, he hadn’t been able to think about any other thighs but yours. Any other pair of tits, glistening with sweat and alcohol. That terrible tramp stamp, his mark on you like he was your owner. He didn’t know what to make of it, but your continued proximity worsened the issue with each passing day. It was worrying to think it would get worse every time you woke in his arms. He’d have to manage; it’s not like he’d let you sleep in separate beds.

John probably should get out of bed and do his morning workout before you wake up. Except the moment he tenses his muscles, preparing to slip out quietly, you whine. A pitiful sound. Such a needy kitty, he thinks absently. You hitch your thigh higher around his hip, nuzzling into his neck forcefully. He doesn’t think you’re awake unless he’s in some alternate reality where you stopped hating him overnight. The physical touch is…nice. Something he hasn’t had in a while. Can’t remember the last time he fucked something that wasn’t his hand, let alone cuddled in bed.

His arm rests possessively over your hip, the other one free at his side. Taking a chance, he reaches up to brush the soft skin under your eyes. No rhyme or reason to it, pure instinct to touch the sleeping face of his wife. His wife.

Maybe he should sleep in a little more. It’s something Gaz is always nagging him on. A man’s due some rest on his wedding morning. With that decided, he shuts his eyes, his thumb still on your face. A part of him memorizes the feel in case you never let him that near again.

-

You wake to a harder pillow than normal. Your body tenses on instinct. There’s no way. You slept on opposite sides of the bed. Right?

“Before ya scream, I hav’ a proposition.” It’s him. Under you, over you, his hand on your waist like a chain. The feral part of you whines at his raspy morning voice, the overwhelming warmth of his body, his bare chest, and the morning wood that’s poking your thigh. Maybe that’s why you only say, “Ok.”

He doesn’t comment on your newfound timidness. His other hand is on your face, stroking the skin of your cheek absentmindedly. It practically lulls you back to sleep, and you must still be drunk to let him continue without a reprimand. “Clean slate. For today, a honeymoon period, and after tha’, friends. Or friendly, if friends is too hard to manage. ‘Ve got too much on my plate t’ worry ‘bout my wife poisonin’ me at breakfast.” Friends. When was the last time you heard that word? Everyone you know is family or enemy, no in between. Price was firmly in the enemy category, but you’re not naive enough to think that hasn’t changed.

Conceding to your contract amendments. Rescuing you in the garden. An annoying argument at the club, but also guaranteeing you were safe. Taking you for a break at your wedding, making sure you were fed and not on the verge of collapse. Not forcing you to consummate your marriage. Not caring if you weren’t a virgin.

It’s all the bare minimum shit you’d expect from a regular man, a regular boyfriend. But nothing about this situation is regular. You know tens of mafia men worse than John Price. Your father, to name one. One’s that would take advantage of you without a second glance, wouldn’t give a damn about your bookstore or thoughts on children. Your childhood indiscretions aside, John Price seems to be a good man. It’s not like he’s asking you to love him or anything else out of the realm of possibility. Friends is good. Friends can be married, have sex, raise kids, and still be friends. There’s an example out there, it’s just not coming to mind.

-

“You sayin’ you only want to be friends because you’re too busy? What a glowing vote of confidence.” He sighs against you. He should have worded it better, but your proximity is throwing him off. It’s making him think of lazy Sundays and discovering what’s under your silk pajamas.

John went into this thinking you were a brat, another entitled mafia princess. It’s clear you’re much more. Having the gall to negotiate your marriage contract and sticking firm with your business. He’s seen the love you have for Ghost and Soap; a deep-seated dedication he knows must not be easy with your family history. And of course, he can’t forget your drunk confession at the wedding. How you blame him for some stupid thing he said as a teenager. Under all your bravado, there’s clearly a hurt little girl. Some part of him, the part he thought died when he shot his first kill, wants a real marriage. A real partner. 

John’s got no clue if you’re willing to give him a try romantically, but it’s worth a shot to at least be friends. He needs someone to rely on that’s not Gaz or Laswell. Someone he can let his guard down around and not get shot by.

-

“I worded it wrong. Friends ‘cause tha’s the only way this will work. Friends ‘cause we’re both now livin’ with a stranger, an’ we migh’ parent a kid together. Friends and partners.”

“Frenemies.” You respond automatically, thrown by his admission. He squeezes your waist, and it’s a sullen reminder that you’re wrapped around him like an octopus. You move to unwrap yourself, but he holds you tight with a scary show of strength. “Friends.” He repeats firmly. You’ve already agreed in your head, but he has to work for it.

“Do friends give honeymoon gifts? I’ve been expecting a gift for putting up with you and have yet to see one.” His hand stops swiping over your cheek, and you can’t control the frown that emerges. He dips lower to press his thumb against your lips, pushing hard until it meets your teeth. It’s strange and sends a shock down your spine. “Friends an’ you’ll stop whinin’.” His voice is harsh, but it’s countered with how his hand now travels the length of your jaw, back and forth hypnotically. “Friends and we order breakfast.” Finally, he nods. That’s it. Friends.

John lets you escape to the bathroom while he calls room service. Even after using the toilet, brushing your teeth and splashing water on your face, you still feel off-kilter. Your skin is hot, hands trembling. A honeymoon period? What the hell does that mean? You hate how your core clenches at the thought of having a real honeymoon with him. It’s a terrible fact, but you’re attracted to your husband. And by how touchy he is, he’s clearly attracted to you. Clean slate. It’s barely taxing to forget your prejudices against him, tucked away in a far corner of your mind. You square your shoulders, giving yourself a nod in the mirror. Friends that are attracted to each other. Nothing to it.

When you walk back into the bedroom, John sits up in bed, the room service tray on the side of the bed. The sheets have fallen to his waist, giving you a view of his delicious upper half. He clearly works out, but not to the point where he’s a bodybuilder. His pecs and torso are hairy but maintained, the perfect combination. As you approach the bed, he gets up with alarming speed and snatches you off your feet, propping you in his lap. It’s terrible and you try to squirm out of it but his grip is too strong, pulling you in further. “Honeymoon period.” He growls in your ear, to which you finally settle down. Guess this is what he meant. At least you’re sitting sideways and not straddling him. You’d never recover.

“This is not friendly, John. I can’t reach the food this way.” All he does is hum, bending over the side of the bed to look at the spread before you. Waffles, pancakes, fresh fruit, yogurt, eggs, and scones call your name. “Open.” When you blink, there’s a piece of egg on a fork in front of your face. “That’s not-,” he doesn’t let you finish, shoving the food into your mouth the moment it opens. You moan at the taste, ignoring how he stiffens beneath you. “Oh my god, that’s the best scrambled egg I’ve ever had.” John picks at another piece, securing it on the fork, before turning back to you. This time, you open your mouth obediently, rolling your eyes when he takes longer than a second to reach you. “Hurry up, I’m hungry.” He shakes his head, eyes glinting with mirth. “Magic word?” You huff, turning hangry. You grab the fork, but he’s got unmatched reflexes, holding it high over your head with a raised eyebrow. The motion pulls at the rest of his face, highlighting his beard and wrinkles. It’s terribly attractive. In a friendly way.

“Please, John, will you feed me like the incapable adult I am?” Your words are dripping with sarcasm but it’s enough for him. You moan around the fork again, and you both politely ignore his half-chubbed cock under your thighs. The cycle repeats, John switching from eggs to waffles to fruit. It’s taken you nearly a half hour to eat but he’s so insistent it’s hard to say no. Every time you swallow, he acts like you’ve solved world hunger. It’s doing terrible things to your ego.

“You’ve hardly eaten.” You murmur. He shrugs, finally settling the fork down. That fork deserves to be thrown into a fire and never seen again. It’s a torture machine.

“I’ll eat now. Go shower an’ get ready.” You pull yourself off his lap and he let you, hand dragging across your skin until you’re completely out of his reach. “Nah, think I’ll sleep a bit more. This awful man was snoring all night.” He snorts and it’s so unbecoming you snort as well. He doesn’t dignify it with a response.

“Goodnight- hey!” Instead, he’s stolen the covers from under you. You did marry a manchild.

“Shower an’ get ready. Ya wanted yer honeymoon gift, ain’t tha’ righ’?” A gift? You might be determined that he’s an asshole, but you are not strong enough to turn down a gift. With all the money he spent on the wedding, it better be something good. “Fine.” An hourlong shower ought to set him straight.

-

Two hours later, you’re finally ready.

Your mission to annoy your husband is successful. He’s been huffing under his breath the last half hour, checking his watch and texting on his phone. He threw on a spare suit from the closet, looking immaculate despite the gun you watch him tuck into his waistband. 

Meanwhile, you take the absolute most time to do your makeup. In fact, you switch out your jewelry three separate times. He told you to dress casually but you also cannot trust the words of a man, so you slip on a sundress and grab a cardigan in case it gets cold. At least Aunt Riley packed you plenty of options in the bags that were sent up. Against your better judgment, you slip on a pair of lace underwear. For confidence purposes only. You forgo any shorts under.

“I’m ready!” He grunts, picking up your purse before you even have the chance to. “Finally. Driver’s been waitin’ fer twenty minutes now.” Well, now you feel bad. “I would’ve hurried if I knew he was waiting. Your fault for not telling me.” He shrugs, hustling you out of the room with a hand on your back. He guides you into the elevator, and although it’s demeaning and infantilizing, a small part of you warms. 

“Can’t take off work fer the week so this’ll be y’r one-day honeymoon. Sorry about tha’, sweetheart.” You shrug, tilting your body slightly so he can’t see you smile at the endearment. At some point this week, it’s turned from venomous to heartwarming, chipping away at your campaign against him. “It’s ok.” He rests his hand on your waist and for a heartstopping moment, he leans in. He’s about to kiss your forehead. You both realize at the same time, pulling away to opposite sides of the elevator so his hand drops. Luckily, the elevator dings. You don’t know what would have happened without it.

He warns you it’s a long car ride. You both sit in the back seat, opposite sides, and you slip off your sandals to curl up against the car door. Using your cardigan as a pillow, you watch him through heavy-lidded eyes. He makes phone call after phone call, his accent getting thicker with irritation depending on the caller. John speaks English, but he says so many code names and unfamiliar locations that it sounds like a different language. The comforting sound of it lulls you to sleep, dreamless and peaceful. When you wake up, there’s a mansion outside your window.

“Is this…” You freeze, taking in the sight before you. Is this your new prison? You were hoping to postpone your new reality a little longer. He shakes his head as he opens your car door, shooing the driver away. “‘S a friend’s, not mine. He’s lendin’ us a building f’r tonight.” A building? His friend must be some kind of royal. The grounds are sprawling and well-kept, sparkling in the warmth of the sunset. John leads you down a path through the gardens, and you walk slowly to take it all in. They’re all native plants, at the end of their blooming season. Their scents make the air thick, a natural perfume, and you sniff each one individually. John doesn’t rush you, stopping every time you do. You swear he’s hiding a small smile under the beard, but he looks away whenever you squint at him. Half an hour later, you make it to the building he’s been guiding you to. It’s an observatory, a rounded glass ceiling visible from the outside. The sun is fully set, and as the clouds clear, stars start winking at you. A perfect night.

“Don’t get impressed yet.” He murmurs to your awed face. Instead of explaining why, he presses a silver key into your hand. Even though you were cuddling this morning, the shock of his touch sends a shiver down your spine. Mistaking it for cold, he nudges you towards the door. It unlocks smoothly, revealing a small entryway. It’s bracketed by dark wood on all sides, with old and uncomfortable furniture. He keeps pressing you forward until you stop at a large door, curved at the top like in a castle. “Open it.” He says when you don’t move. Hand shaking, you turn the knob, and almost faint at what’s revealed.

“‘S a remake of-” 

“The Admont Abbey Library in Austria.” The world’s most beautiful library. Instead of being made for public use, this one is for comfort. 

There are two, no, three stories of books on every wall. Instead of a fresco on the ceiling, its glass, giving you a direct view of the stars. Books line every nook and cranny, surrounded by a lighter and more appealing wood than the one in the entryway. There are chairs and sofas every few feet, worn but well-loved. A few steps further reveal a fireplace with a mountain of chairs surrounding it, a place to invite friends to discuss books over tea. A large clock hangs over it, chiming at every hour. There are staircases and ladders to reach the books on high shelves, and a closer look reveals they’re ordered by subject. Books from centuries ago and recently purchased ones mesh together in a wonderful rainbow of colors. 

“You like it?” He’s still standing by the first couch, almost awkwardly. A mafia man in a full suit with his gun tucked into his waistband, and yet it seems a library is what makes him look small.

“John, it’s- I don’t even know what to say. It’s perfect. And all mine for a night?” He shakes his head at that in a confusing manner. “Not jus’ a night…” No.

“John Price, did you buy me a library?” He has the nerve to look ashamed, cheeks pinking as he tucks his hands into his pockets. “My friend’s quite old, can’t go up an’ down the ladders anymore. He’s givin’ it to ya fer free, ‘s long as ya don’t sell anything. Can come ‘ere whenever you like.” A library, just for you.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you.” You attack him with a hug. A friendly one, with your arms around his neck and your legs around his waist. “Got it after th’ night in the garden. Figured I’d give ya a new home since I’m takin’ yer old.” A stray tear falls at his consideration. “Thank you.” You whisper this time, throat thick with more tears. “Don’t cry, sweetheart. Go explore.” You nod, climbing out of his arms. His thumb reaches out to wipe away a tear and you let him, granting yourself a reprieve from the exhausting practice of hatred for one night. “Go’on.”

-

You explore for hours.

John makes calls from couches, occasionally walking around until he spots you. You’re like a kid in a candy store, running from shelf to shelf with a grin on your face. He was worried it was too much, but it seems to have finally cleared the air between you two. The phantom weight of your hug clings to his skin, a memory he can’t shake off.

He didn’t admit to you that this is his manor, the one he goes to when he needs to get away. The way you hesitated when getting out of the car with fear in your eyes was unbearable. He didn’t want this to feel like another gilded cage. There’s only staff around anyway, and they’re under strict instructions not to say anything. As far as he’s concerned, this whole building is solely yours.

When he’s finally done remotely managing a crisis at one of his clubs, he ventures off to find you. It’s near midnight now and the stars are shining bright under the glass ceiling. When he finds you on the second floor, you’re bent over a desk, reading while standing like you’re so enthralled you couldn’t be bothered to properly sit. It’s the most attractive thing he’s ever seen.

Bent over, your dress barely covers your ass. John takes a silent step back on the staircase and sure enough, he can see a black scrap of lace cupping your cunt. He thanks your aunt for not packing shorts.

“Givin’ a man ideas standin’ like tha’.” It escapes his mouth before getting permission from his brain. John blames the whiskey he found in between calls. You snap your book closed at the sound of his voice, turning around and standing ramrod straight. “I stand or sit in weird positions when I’m reading. You’ll have to get used to it.” Instead of answering, he approaches you until there’s only an inch of space between your chests. You don’t flinch, a show of trust. Ever the challenger, you tip your chin up until your eyes meet, defiance sending a rush of blood to his cock.

“Turn around.” You do. Slowly. The book you were reading is still clutched to your chest like a shield. “Show me how ya were standin’.” He steps back to give you room. To his disbelief, you comply, bending over until a bit of lace peaks out. “Read t’ me.” A rough finger reaches out, touching the edge of the lace separating him from your cunt. He traces the seam of it, the outline of your folds straining against fabric. John decides to push the limit as far as he can during this honeymoon day, to make you want him as much as he wants you.

“‘But strange and marvelous as she was, a wisp of silk in a forest of black wool, she was’- John!” His finger had slipped under your lace underwear. You were so wet, dripping over his hand, and he wondered if you got off on this more than he did. If this was one of your secret fantasies, fucking in a library. “Tell me t’ stop.” You’re silent, too proud to ask him to continue, but too desperate to ask him to stop. Unperturbed, he starts swiping up and down like he’s familiarizing himself with the feel of your cunt. “Go’on.” You take a deep breath and continue.

“‘Not the fragile creature one would have her seem. In many ways she was as cool and competent as Henry’- oh fuck.” He’d pressed his thumb against your clit, hard. “Feel good?” You nod, barely keeping your head above your shoulders. “If this was our real honeymoon,” he moved his thumb down to your fluttering hole, dipping it in lightly for emphasis. You drop your head down to the desk, exhaling harshly. “I’d-” Ding!

The clock struck twelve. The end of your honeymoon period.

John removes his thumb slowly, putting your underwear back in place with care. He kisses your back, over where your Sharpie marks are, before pulling back completely. “Driver’s ready whenever you are, sweetheart. No rush.” And he’s gone, walking down the staircase.

He’d only continue if you asked him to.

-

i hope this isn't moving too fast but i really wanted some fluff and smut. if yall couldnt tell, this was inspired by that scene from beauty and the beast.

also the semester is starting back this week so my posts will become less frequent, pls bear with me :)

fifty points to who can tell me what book she was reading!!!

-

@heretoreadanddrinktea

@peachyxrosie

@joufrance

@galactict3a

@exactlyyoungchaos

@trulovekay

@alleycc

@abox-of-rocks

@orangehibiscus

@mismatchsposts

@nova-willow-541

@throwing-up-butterflies

@grossitsluca

@evans-dejong

@popcornlauncher

@earthcole

@backfromthedeadhehehe

@baduzzxy

@thegreyjoyed

@cutelibrariangf

@dearghostling

@mrsmalfoy1005

@all-by-myself98

@snburntandsad

@baklovers

@rmikaelson01

@leon-thot-kennedy

@the-gods-gloted-but-they-burned

@barcelonaaababe

@brokenandemptyhearts

@sleep101

@ontopofthefridge

@lilynotdilly

@teenagellamaangel

@harperdoodle

@ii-angelsrolltheireyes-ii

@violetisheresworld

@lolwey

@polyfandom-blogs 

@burrowedinnature77

@sharkerino

@ashy-kit

@aikojwhpa

[ryuzakemo128]

MDNI

Imagine retired! hitman! female reader. Think John Wick style.

"I'm retired." you say.

"I don't kill anymore." you remind.

"I don't need to go back." you protest.

But as soon as one of them gets hurt? You don't hesitate in making it personal.

The mask is on.

The gun is out.

And your rage is felt.

Your rage is real.

Your facade is gone.

"Hell is here. Repent while you can." uttered from the father to his son who harmed your love.

[milkyblxxd]

⛧°. ⋆༺♱༻⋆. °⛧

slasher!TF141 cw: blood, death, chasing, unconsensual touching, big bad men being scary, f!reader, vague and incomplete, barely edited

wanted to post this as a tester to see if this is something people would be interested in

๋࣭ ⭑⚝

Every breath burns. Your legs are moving on their own, desperately fleeing as flight completely overrides your nervous system. Tree branches whip into your face, but your brain can hardly register the stinging pain they bring. The darkness of the forest swallows you whole and refuses to release you from its jaws. The full moon mocks you as it dangles in the sky, peeking between the gaps of the evergreens - free of earthly horrors. 

It’s impossible to tell if it's blood, sweat, or tears running down your face. You don’t even know if it’s your own blood. Nausea violently twists your stomach, images of your friends' mangled bodies flashing through your mind. 

What was supposed to be a summer getaway to celebrate the end of finals ended up to be a nightmare. 

The warning signs were there. Dark figures lurking at the edges of the lake waved off as shadows playing tricks on your mind. Items disappearing or moving around (but you swear you brought that brand new yellow bathing suit - did you take my hairbrush from the bathroom?). Skin erupting into goosebumps as you try to sunbathe because it just feels like someone is watching you - but your friends brushed off your concerns. 

You just need to relax - you’re too wound up!

 I don’t see anything…how much have you had to drink?

You’re gonna freak everyone out if you keep being all weird - 

What else were you supposed to do? Walk 10 miles to the nearest gas station, hitch a ride back home all because the woods are creeping a city girl like you out? 

A root catches your bare foot, sending you face first into the ground. In the attempt to brace yourself your body twists the opposite direction, a shooting pain that travels from your ankle to your spine makes you heave. You can’t help but lay there for a moment as the pain and exhaustion seep into your bones. A patch of moonlight catches your eye as you gasp, short breaths cutting through the hum of the forest. You don't stop your eyes from fluttering shut.

Hopefully your friends will forgive you for not getting away…

Thundering footsteps and muffled shouts snap you back to reality. Gritting your teeth, you claw your fingers into the earth. Like hell you’re gonna die tonight. Adrenaline forces you up onto your feet as you find the strength to move. Hiding is your best option, if you can just hide until daylight, find your way to the nearest road and limp until you can find anyone - you can survive, you can survive - 

The hope that sparked within you was snuffed out just as quickly as it was ignited - with what you could only describe as a brick wall bulldozing into you. You’re sent flying to the ground, wind completely knocked out of your lungs. Before you can even recover, a heavy weight is straddling over your waist and manhandling you onto your stomach. Coughing, you can only weakly struggle against the iron grip around both of your wrists, the feeling of a rope twisting and cutting into your skin as you’re restrained. 

A leather clad hand grips the hair at the base of your skull and tugs, a cry slipping from your lips as you’re forced to arch your spine to relieve the sting. The light from a phone screen being shoved into your face is blinding. You can only see the screen for a second - but the grotesque image makes you freeze. Blood and dirt covers your face, trails of clean skin left behind as your tears cut through the grime - but what was behind you was the real terror. The red of the skull mask your assailant wore almost perfectly matches the shade of the blood smeared on your body.

The sound of the camera shutter goes off.

Your head is suddenly being shoved back into the dirt, heavy hand pressing into your wet cheek as you sob. The leather is strangely cool against your hot skin as he strokes underneath your eye, cleaning up your tears in an act of…comfort? 

The man shushes you and mumbles incoherently in a thick accent, muffled through the mask he wears as he huffs.

“Couldnae let yah get away-”

“-sweet little bonnie, don’ cry-”

“-made me so hard chasing yah like that, fuck-”

You can feel something hard pressing into your ass when what sounds like a radio is being activated.

“Got our little lamb.”

[scoobywrites690]

love love love your writing!! especially your poly141 works 💗

Thank you so much for the compliment on my writing, I really appreciate it.💕 I hope this fills that poly 141 shaped whole in your heart (I love poly 141 too, they're my babies😚)

-Poly 141 on readers birthday! (anyone got a birthday soon this ones for you💖)

-Cw multiple men, double penetration, oral (f receiving) cum in v

P.s this ones quite a long one🤭

You wake up to the sweet subtle smell of breakfast being cooked, the sweet sickly scent of waffles fills the air of the quaint apartment you share with the 141 team. You know for a fact that Kyle's out there with a bowl of batter pouring it into the waffle maker whilst Johnny takes pride in decorating the cooked ones with a mounting of whipped cream and a variety of different berries.

There's a groan and then the sound of shuffling sheets next to you, then you hear a mutter of curse words as you hear joints click and crack as John stretches out his poor tired body. Rolling over to face him he greets you with a warm smile as he rubs at his tired eyes.

"Happy Birthday, baby doll" He says into the top of your head as he wraps you up in his big bear-like hug. Almost squeezing the life out of you. Taking in a deep inhale he savours the faint scent of your shampoo, letting it wash over him, calm him. before he places a kiss to your temple and letting go to give you your space again.

"Smells like Kyle's making breakfast, wonder what state the kitchens gonna be left in"" He mutters, you humming in agreement.

"Never mind that, I know something I want more than some waffles" He says with a smirk plastered across his face. Connecting his lips with yours he pulls you into a deep embrace. tongues dancing together as he engulfs the small moans that slip out of your mouth.

Laying you down on the bed, he places a quick kiss to your forehead before he starts his decline down your body. leaving a trail of kisses on his journey, a giggle leaves your mouth at the feel of Johns moustache tickling you.

"Stop squirming, you" John says, landing a light slap to the side of your thigh as a warning. Shimmying your pyjama shorts down past your hips and over your thighs, John can't help but let a gasp slip past his lips, when he finally gets a look at the sweet pussy he loves so much (you'd think he was seeing it for the first time)

"There she is, such a pretty thing" He says to himself. The morning sun shining in through the window gives John the perfect view of the slick that's already formed, as it glistens in the light. Placing a light kiss to your clit already has you angling your hips up to meet his mouth, causing John to let out a low chuckle at how eager you are.

"Eager little thing, aren't you" He mumbles before he's sucking your clit into his mouth, flicking and teasing it with his tongue. then he's flattening his tongue against your folds before dipping down into your pussy to lap at your juices. an almost animistic groan leaves him as he laps at your sweet, sweet juices. his moustache being coated in a shiny sheen of your slick.

wrapping his arms around your things to stop you from wiggling away from him before he continues his attack on your clit, bringing it into his mouth before sucking on it. the sensitive little bundle of nerves spasming in his mouth at the intensity of it. The brutal assault causes your orgasm to come crashing down on you, John having to tighten his grip as you start to lift your hips off the bed trying to get away as the pleasure starts to turn into over sensitivity. But John needs to make sure he's got every last drop of your sweet sweet nectar. he can't let any go to waste, because to John it's like liquid gold.

After John cleans you up and helps you fix your hair, you join the others in the dinning room where you're presented with a plate of waffles with (like you predicted) a mountain of whipped cream and berries on top. Johnny not being able to help but smile at the creation he made just for you on your special day.

Hoping in the shower after eating as the boys want to take you round the shops, spoil you a bit they said (because it's not like they do that everyday of the year) Turning the shower on and letting it warm up before getting in. You let the hot water run over your skin, loosening your muscles as you let the water wet your hair.

Hands come down on your waist causing you to let out a squeal.

"I'm sorry, lass, didn't mean to scare ya" Johnny says "Thought you heard me come in" He mutters pressing a kiss to your temple, as his hands start to glide over your wet body. reaching down to the cup of your ass, giving it a quick squeeze.

"Heard you in the bedroom this morning" Johnny mutters into your ear as he nips at your earlobe.

"Captin made you feel real good" He says as he works his way down your jawline littering it in kisses. cupping your wet tits as he rolls your nipples between his fingers. Your thighs squeezing together in reaction.

"You want more?" He questions.

"I'd say she wants more" Says a voice behind Johnny. Being completely wrapped up in what Johnny was doing you didn't notice Kyle entering the shower.

"Hi, baby" Kyle greets with a smile, before placing a kiss to your lips. with you now sandwiched between them, you can feel Johnny's rock hard cock pressed up against your ass, and Kyle's cock growing harder just at the sight of your wet naked body.

Hiking your leg up and keeping it in there with his hand, Kyle drags the head of his cock up and down your folds coating it in your slick before he's pushing his tip past the entrance of you tight little pussy. Slowly bottoming out inside you waiting for you to adjust to the fullness. The sudden feeling of Johnny's dick poking at the entrance of the same hole Kyle is currently using has your heart racing.

"Shh shh, it's okay we've done this before remember, lass" Johnny mutters in your ear pressing a kiss to the top of your shoulder before he starts to slowly push into you too.

"Just relax, love" Kyle tells you "He'll be in in no time" He reassures you, giving you a comforting smile as Johnny pushes in deeper, the stretch quickly turning into a burning causes tears to prick at your eyes.

Once he's in everyone stills, letting you adjust to the stretch of having both of them in one hole. Once you give them the go ahead they both start to slowly move inside of you. the feel of both their heads bumping against your g spot has you melting in their arms. the discomfort that once was there soon vanished with the now overwhelming pleasure that they are both giving you.

The feel of their cocks rubbing up against each other in such a tight area has Johnny and Kyle groaning, and moaning out in pleasure. Their orgasms approaching much quicker than they'd expected. With you not far behind they thrust up into you at a much quicker pace, their tips no doubt hitting up against your cervix(leaving it bruised most likely)

Your orgasm washing over you causing you to squeeze down on them both has them soon spilling inside of you. pumping you full of their hot sticky cum.

It's a good job you were already in the shower. But it's okay because Johnny and Kyle help you clean up. sitting you down on the shower floor to wash your hair for you, before wrapping you up in a nice big fluffy towel.

later in the evening you find yourself in bed before anyone else(not surprising with the activities you've done today) curled up in clean pj's and fluffy blankets you let yourself drift off. It's not long until you're rudely awakened by Simon crawling into bed with you.

Pulling you towards him and wrapping you in his arms, he places a soft kiss to your lips before letting you drift back off. You awaken again, Simon still has you wrapped in his arms as he sleeps peacefully beneath you. Glancing at the clock tells you it's only 10:40, you can hear the chatter and laughter of the others in another room of the apartment. Probably all a few beers deep into whatever they're doing out there

The huff of Simon beneath you has your attention pulling back towards him. His deep hazel eyes looking into yours before pulling you in for a kiss, his tongue slipping into your mouth. A groan slipping past your lips. Straddling your hips on either side of his wide form you can't help but grind your hips down on top of him.

"You want me, luv?" He asks pressing kisses to your neck, sucking so very gently at the skin.

"I'll be gentle, okay" He mutters "I know those two idiots out there stretched you out real good, didn't they?" He asks, and as on queue you can hear the loud laughs of Johnny and Kyle, probably laughing at something that is in no way funny at all.

Helping you take off your pyjama bottoms and to do the same to him, he's positioning you back on top of him guiding his cock into your tight little hole.

“There we go, atta girl” he groans, holding you up by your waist as he sinks deep into you. Guiding your hips backwards and forwards on top of him. Your clit drags across the top of his pelvis causing sparks of pleasure to rush through you. Your head coming down to rest on Simon's shoulder you let him take full control.

His grip on your hips tighten as he bounces you up and down on top of him. His dick bottoming out inside you every time. The sound of both your grunts and moans combined with the sound of his balls slapping against the bottom of your ass with every thrust fills the room.

Simon plants his feet on the bed to allow him to thrust up into you himself. His tip nudging at your entrance every time. With your legs shaking on top of him and his chest heaving as you both approach your release, you squeeze down on his cock as he fills you with ropes of his hot seed.

Letting you stay there whilst you both come down from your highs, you end up falling asleep like that. His arms wrapped around you as you lay on top of him, with his dick buried deep inside you keeping his cum from spilling out.

A very good birthday if i do say so myself.🎉🎉

[teddypines]

Daddy's Home

-------------------------------------------------------------------

Summary: The 141, mostly Price, getting a warm welcome home from a long mission away. His dragon babies being adorable and Soap being a little possessive. Also Y/N being a good mom, because you are doing great.

Note: Just fluff in the monster au.

Art/picture is from Pinterest, credits go to whoever made it.

-----------------------------------------------------------------

Y/N helped Amy out of the car before grabbing Jim from his carseat. She wasn’t scared that Amy would run off right now, since the toddler was holding onto her belt loops and couldn’t fly very far on her own. She was way too tired to do anything else but to hold onto Momma. Y/N smiled while strapping the hatchling to her chest in his papoose. Amy used to fit inside the papoose when she was still small, but now it was Jim’s. Once Jim was all settled and continuing his nap, Y/N closed the car door. “Want to be on Momma’s back, Sweetpea?” She asked Amy, receiving a small nod from the toddler. She helped Amy onto her back, making sure she was safe between her wings. 

With the children close to her Y/N grabbed the baby bag from the trunk and locked the car. They were going to pick up Daddy from a long mission. It had been a rough couple of months, especially with Price missing Jim’s hatching, but she filmed it for him and sent it to him so he wouldn’t miss it entirely. Amy was missing Daddy bedtime and just having him and her uncles around. With a small determent smile Y/N took the kids to the airfield on base. Hoping Nikolia took the 141 back home safely.

Y/N had to wait a little while in one of the hangars, of course being checked and double checked that it was actually okay for her and the children to be there. Getting a few odd looks as she sat there, Amy still holding onto her back. “Momma? Why are we up?” She asked in a sleepy voice. it actually made a few of the nearby soldiers melt at how cute the little dragon was. “We are picking up Daddy, Sweetpea. Bringing him home with us, and of course your uncles too. Their flight is just really early that’s why we are up early too.” Y/N explained to Amy, hoping her tired mind would understand what was going on for now. Amy nodded her head against Y/N’s back. “Otay.” 

<------------------------------------------------------------->

It’s been a long 3 months. Price hated it, even more because he missed the hatching of his son. He was glad Y/N filmed it for him, but he still felt upset about it. He missed his princess and his wife. Only he didn’t have a lot of time to dwell on what he was missing since the mission came first. He had to make sure his team was doing their jobs and that they got home safe after it all ended. They got pretty lucky with this mission, only Soap was hurt and that was mostly his own fault for not looking where he was going. There were minor injuries, but Ghost still fussed over Soap on the plane, giving him a small lecture about keeping his eyes open and to focus instead of yepping over com’s. 

Price just let it all happen around him as he talked to Gaz, telling the sergeant how much he longed for a hot shower and cuddles on the couch. Wanting to hear Amy’s voice, wanting to hold his son and to kiss Y/N. It was clear by the way Price moved his tail around the floor of the plane. Gaz understood the longing his captain felt, wanting to go back to his own loved ones. He was just as curious about seeing Price’s son as the man himself, wondering if the hatchling got his colors for his dad or his mom, or maybe a mix of both. Soap just wanted to see the hatchling and Y/N again, and have some time with Ghost. And Ghost just wanted to sleep.

“Landing in about 10 minutes, everyone.” Nikolia’s co-pilot announced to the 141, The four of them smiling at the news. They would be home soon with a welcome home party waiting for them on base. A small party, but a party nonetheless.

<------------------------------------------------------------->

“Miss? The plane is landing in about five minutes, would you like me to take you to the landing?” One of the soldiers around her asked with a kind smile on his face. Y/N nodded and stood up with a groan, Amy was fast asleep on her back, putting her full weight onto her Momma’s back. “Yes, I would like that, thank you.” Y/N answered. Quickly following after the soldier. She knew she had to wake Amy up soon or she would be upset that she didn’t get to greet her daddy. Jim wouldn’t mind either way, he was happy with whatever. 

Amy luckily woke up by herself from the loud noise of the plane. She was wide awake when she realized her Daddy was on that plane. “Momma, down! I want down!!” She demanded while struggling between Y/N’s wings. “Hold on a moment, Sweetpea, Momma is still walking.” Y/N answered only to be ignored by the toddler. Y/N sighed and quickly let Amy down. Needing to stop and kneel slightly, just to let the little one off safely. Amy flapped her wings in excitement as she ran a head to the landing plane. “Not too fast, Amy! We don’t want you to fall.” Y/N yelled after her. 

The soldier led the last bit of the way to the landing, the plane already landed. Now they just had to wait for the loading door to open. Amy, already jumping up in the air to fly towards daddy. “Daddy!” She yelled, just wanting her daddy back with her. 

It took a little while for the loading door to open, but there they were, the 141 safe and sound. Amy flew into Price’s arms, surprising him just a little. John quickly wrapped his arms around his little girl and kissed her head between her growing horns. “Hello, Pumpkin.” John greeted Amy. “I missed you so much.” He mumbled against her head “Missed you too, Daddy.” Amy answered. The others just chuckled and walked past the two dragons. Soap quickly going over to Y/N, the werewolf was more excited about seeing the hatchling and Y/N. 

“Sooooo, where is he?!” Soap asked, his tail wagging like crazy. “Well hello to you too, Johnny, yes i am doing great, thank you for asking.” Y/N responded as she carefully took Jim out of his papoose. “Jimmy, meet your uncle Johnny. He’s a werewolf and you’re gonna love cuddling with him.” She introduced the two. Johnny looking at the dragon hatchling in aw. “He looks so small.” Johnny carefully took Jim from Y/N. “Yeah, he’s just a little smaller than when Amy hatched.” Y/N answered, making sure Johnny was holding Jim the right way. Even when he had a lot of experience with holding Amy, Jim was just a bit more fussy about how people should hold him.

Simon slowly made his way to Johnny and Y/N, standing next to Y/N as he looked at Jim. “He does have a lot more hair than Amy did after hatching.” He commented after taking off his mask, not wanting to scare the hatchling. Knowing from experience that hatchlings didn’t like his Ghost mask. “Yeah, he has his Momma’s hair.” Y/N explained. 

John finally let Amy go once Kyle was like, ‘Okay enough, my time for hugs’. He looked over at the group a little further from the plane, he saw Y/N and just ran to her. Catching her off guard when he picked her up and kissed her. Holding her close as he spun her around. “Hello, Love.” He whispered to her. “Welcome home.” Y/N whispered back. She had wrapped her arms and wings around John, giving them a small moment alone. Putting his forehead and horns against hers. “I missed you.” Y/N whispered, a few tears rolling down her cheeks as she looked at her husband. “I missed you more, Love.” John answered between kissing her cheeks. Kissing her tears away. His one wing goes around Y/N’s wings.

“Do you want to see your son?” Y/N asked after a moment of silence. John nodded in answer before reluctantly letting Y/N go. She grabbed his hand and led him back to Johnny and Simon. “Johnny boy, can I have my son back?” She asked only to receive an almost death glare back from the werewolf. “Johnny, give the lass her son!” Simon ordered the werewolf, knowing he was already attached to the hatchling, just like when he first met Amy. Johnny whined before handing Jim back to Y/N. She moved Jim in John’s direction. “Meet your son, James Henry Price.” John looked at the hatchling in aw before grabbing him. Holding him close and just taking everything in. “He is beautiful, Love.” 

Amy ran towards her Momma and Daddy once she was out of Kyle’s arms. “Daddy’s home!!!” She cheered, continuing to run around the 141. Kyle joined the group shortly after. “She has a lot of energy doesn’t she?” John nodded his head, but kept his focus on his son. Jim let out a big yawn and spread his little wings a bit, they were still flimsy, but are slowly getting stronger. They were a pretty light blue. Getting the color from John's mother. “Owh What a handsome boy.” Kyle cooed over the hatchling. John smiled At his son and quickly kissed Y/N. “Thank you, love, thank you for this. For coming to get us.”

“Always John.” Y/N answered, happy that the boy’s were home safe.

[storiesaplenty]

Special time with Santa (18+)

141 X f/Reader

Call of Duty Masterlist

This has not been proofread. Please enjoy though.

Warnings: swearing. Smut below the cut. Unprotected sex. Oral (m & f receiving). Pussy fingering. p in v sex. Cum swallowing. Use of nicknames, Santa, little elf. Sex in public. Creampie.

WC: 1297

©️ storiesaplenty 2024: do not repost or translate my work. This is the only place I post my work.

Having sex with 141 Task Force as they dress up as mall Santa, and you are dressed up as an Elf.

Captain John Price:

"That's it lovie. Just like that." John groaned from behind the beard. His gloved hands were gripping your waist tight as you rode him.

His cock touching the tip of your cervix as he buried his face between your tits, pulling down the green fabric so he nuzzle the skin.

"Shit, John." He slapped your ass, making you yelping. "Now, now love. What do you call me?" He angled his hips just so, nudging your g-spot.

"Santa." You whined, you back arching as he took a nipple into his mouth. "Mmmm, yes." His mouth popped off your chest.

"Being so naughty aren't you lovie? Making a mess on my pants. Come and give your Santa a kiss."

You whimpered but kissed him through the itchy beard.

The little bells on your shoes made noise as you bounced in his lap, tethering on the edge.

"Santa!" You cried out as you finally came, your pussy gripping his cock so tight, he came.

You could feel him shoot rope after rope of cum in your fluttering pussy, as you collapsed against his chest.

"Mmm, now be a good elf and clean Santa up." He said, as he pulled you off his lap, and onto the ground.

Your mouth wrapped around his softening cock, moaning at the taste of the two of you.

His hands were placed on the back of your head has you leisurely moved your head up and down, cleaning his cock as best as you could.

Sergeant Kyle “Gaz” Garrick:

"Come on baby, take it all." Kyle groaned as he gently thrust his cock down your throat.

You have tears in the corner of your eyes as you look up at him from the floor of the little workshop, the mall put in the Santa Village.

His cock stretching your throat beyond its limits it felt like, but you didn't want to disappoint him, so you breathed through your nose, fighting through the ache as you nuzzled your face into his pubic hair, making him curse under his breath.

"I knew you could do it. I fuckin' knew it." He slapped the armrest of the chair he was sitting in as he raised his hips, making you choke around his cock.

"Fuck, let's do that again." You shook your head no, but he did it again anyways, holding your head in place as you choked around his cock.

Your vision started to become a bit blurry as he fucked your face, you tapping his leg but he was so enthralled with the pleasure your mouth and throat were giving him, he didn't notice, or care to notice.

So you placed your hands on his thighs, which are covered by the red, baggy Santa suit. You looked up at him through the tears, his eyes were closed, the Santa hat barley hanging on, as soft grunts fell from his parted mouth.

You felt the first rope of cum hit the back of your throat before he let out a low groan, his hips bucking against your face as you quickly swallowed.

He pulled his hips back before he was finished coming, some of it landing on your cheek before you wrapped your lips around the tip to finish him off.

"Shit sweetheart. I'm taking you home tonight, and putting you under my tree." Kyle groaned as you continued to suck him off, even as his cock was softening in your mouth.

Sergeant Johnny “Soap” MacTavish:

"Keep quiet." Johnny groaned from behind as his hips bounced off your ass. One of his black, gloved hand covering your mouth to keep your moans at bay.

His fake, Santa stomach was sitting on your ass, and pushing into you, making you gasp for air each and every time.

"Santa, Johnny, shit." You whined behind his glove, as you smiled at how well he is fucking you.

Been a while since you have been fucked like this, and it is like he knew, like he is the actual true Santa because all you wanted for Christmas was someone to make you cum and not disappoint you during sex.

"Shit, call me Santa again." He grunted as his pace sped up. His hand leaving your mouth, to wrap around you waist as he the other hand reached around you, gripping your throat and pulling you up and against his body, your own body at an odd angle due to the Santa stomach.

"Let's go you two." Came a knock on the door, the bored voice of the other elf.

"Where?" Johnny groaned in your ear as he nipped the earlobe, making you gasp.

"Inside. Pill, clean." Was all you could get out as he his pace sped up, his hips bouncing off your ass.

The little bells attached at the end of your skirt is making so much noise, but it sounded fuzzy to you.

You gripped his arm that was gripping your throat, as you came, saying Santa over and over again as he let out the loudest moan you have ever heard as he ground against your ass, as his cum filled your pussy, triggering another small orgasm from you.

As Johnny pulled out, you couldn't help but giggle. "So, Santa." You emphasized the word. "Does it for you, huh?"

"Be quiet little elf, or you may get a spankin."

Just the thought of him spanking you, had you clenching your pussy around nothing.

Lieutenant Simon “Ghost” Riley:

"Such a good little elf, aren't ya?" Simon grunted into your ear as he fucked you against the wall of the employee bathroom.

You couldn't answer him as he has literally made you stupid because of his cock.

When you first saw his cock, as he pulled it out his Santa costume, he was slowly jerking it off.

The tip shiny with precum and you wanted nothing more than to lick it, but then you noticed how big and long he was.

"It isn't gonna fit." You whimpered. "I'll make it fit." Came his promise and fuck, he made it fit after spending time on his knees, lifting you by your ass to eat and stretch you out on his fingers.

He made you cum so much that you could hardly stand as he stood up, holding you against his body as he lifted you up, all the while thrusting his cock in your still, too tight pussy.

You feel like he is in your stomach every single time he bottoms out inside of you.

"Shit. Made for me, weren't you little elf?"

"Santa Simon." You whined as your head lulled side to side, not even knowing what you were saying as the only thing consuming your thoughts were Simon and his giant cock.

He lifted you up and down his cock, like his own personal flesh light, forcing orgasm after orgasm from your body until you could hardly see straight it seemed.

Simon didn't ask where to cum, he just came inside your shaking, quivering body, your mouth open as he filled you with so much cum, it started to leak around his cock.

"I'll let them know you need a minute." He smirked as he pulled his cock from your body.

The two of you moaning at the feeling of him leaving your body, as his cum slowly dripped down your thighs, and onto your ripped, green elf-tights.