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John Price X Reader - Blog Posts
I like boobs, on men or women it doesn't matter. Boobs are boobs after all 😔❤️
How they react when you slap their chest and say “TITTIES”
Soap screams. SCREAMS. Then immediately puffs his chest out like, “Aye, ye like what ye see?” Starts flexing dramatically, making his pecs jump like he’s in a bodybuilding competition. You have boosted his ego beyond repair. Good luck getting rid of that.
Gaz is offended, yet intrigued. “Did you just— EXCUSE ME?” Then he grabs your hand and puts it back on his chest like, “Go on then, you wanna talk? Appreciate them properly.” Enjoys the attention way too much. Encourages you to use them as pillows.
Ghost blinks. Slow turn to look at you. You can hear the Windows XP shutdown sound in real-time. Then he just quietly says, “You wanna play?” Doesn’t move, doesn’t react. But later, when you least expect it, he will slap your ass SO hard in revenge that you might see God.
Price chokes on his drink. Splutters like an old man. Then side-eyes you HARD. “You quite finished?” Acts like he’s unimpressed, but you can see the corners of his mouth twitching. You’re not slick. He liked it.
Imagine 141 with his little bird who is totally shameless sometimes and lets out double meaning comments and flirts with his friends always dirty. Let's not even talk to her friends, they know that She is bisexual but it will always be a spectacle to see her flirt and Be a total pervert (respectfully) with her friends.
But what would happen when they start flirting with her and see how shy she gets? She would get red like a tomato when a sex scene passes through the movie they are watching on a rest night. How would you start stuttering when they talk about how beautiful it is And how pretty she looks when she does absolutely nothing to pretend to be pretty.
Now imagine how she covers her face when they are fucking it so well and when they wing it after a successful mission
It doesn't matter how to act in public, people think that she is a shame
Imagine Poly 141 who has their little bird for casual encounters, but outside the room they treat her badly. Until one day the four of them seek their dose of pleasure and she bursts into tears,And the frustrated blows because maybe she is falling in love and is tired of being treated like this, as if she was only good for sex and nothing.
Now imagine the heavy and dense anguish, how she just wants to get out of there, because they humiliate her without realizing it (maybe Kyle will say something). They just thought that she didn't mind their jokes and their Attitudes. How they would realize how special she is, and perhaps what a valuable woman she is, when they are most about to lose her. Maybe a bad mission, where they are discovered in a safe house While they are sleeping and are ambushed there, she goes out to defend the house and the boys and they shoot her. Leaving their pajamas full of blood
Sólo piénsalo , just think about it 💋
going out with 141 partying would be something like this...
(Short as your ex's dick) 💋
Imagine you're going out partying with the guys from 141 but they're just your friends (for now) you went to their house, where the 4 of them live because they're polyamorous boyfriends and you were already ready so they let you occupy their guest bed to wait for them but you fall asleep in the most tender way these men could have ever seen. With your feet off the bed so as not to get it dirty, your hair against the pillow and a little saliva touching your lipstick and makeup. Johnny is the first to see you, he walks into the room yelling something about how in Scotland they drink a lot and blah blah until he looks at the bed and sees you there almost curled up with your hand under the pillow and the other with your phone in your hand, he carefully calls Kyle who was passing by the hall cursing because Johnny stole his belt, as soon as he entered the room he was speechless. Simon was already ready when he found Kyle and Johnny watching something very calm and quiet as soon as he saw you he felt like he could bite you until you ripped off your flesh because of the aggressive tenderness you caused him and John was already going to scold them all because they are missing and he joined the group of observers but he decided to intervene..
- Honey ...- John spoke very softly, to which you moved coming out of your nap - Honey can you hear me? -
- Hey cap, oh I'm sorry I fell asleep - You stretched and your shiny crop top rose revealing your abdomen
- Bonnie if you don't feel energetic we can stay here - Johnny approached when he realized that continuing to look at your ass in those shorts was wrong - We can order food if you want
- I'm fine I just relaxed too much, are you ready? - you sat on the bed with John's arms still on either side of your legs, when you sat down you stayed close to his face but you didn't give it any importance
This little approach left the three boys stunned, because something as simple as that could leave them so stupid and horny. Definitely everyone thought they were degenerates
- no no, look at my makeup, my hair, I'm not going to waste this outfit, come on - you put your hand on John's chest so he would get up.
Without anything else to say and obeying your word everyone left, John drove the entire trip there and back, Johnny and you being the most affected by the alcohol filled with jokes and shameless flirting towards Kyle and Simon. You ended up asleep in the boys' bed after accidentally kissing John when he was helping you with your makeup and changing clothes. A party with your friends at a random club, who would say that a few weeks later they would ask you to join their polyamorous relationship.
V YESSSSSS PROTECTIVE BOYFRIENDS YES AAAAAAAAAAAA😫🛐🛐🛐❤️❤️❤️
What abt 141xpregnant!reader (or not pregnant, ur choice, I dont mind!!) And someone gets into their house and reader is all alone so she calls the boys while they're out (somewhere idk)
can be angst or fluff <3
Thank you for this idea, I hope I did it justice for you anon <3
CW: Threats of violence (not against reader), break ins, fluff
You stared at yourself in the glossy reflection, soaked rag scented with the unmistakable smell of cleaning spray dabbing at the final fingerprint, a satisfied grin on your face. You hobbled to the kitchen, ankles slightly swollen as a hand rubbed against the plushness of your belly, a gentle kick answering you back.
You felt content. You were six months pregnant and surrounded by four incredibly devoted men (who were currently running all the errands you could no longer do). Gentle feet padded against the wooden floorboards, your back humming with a subtle ache as you groaned, your body flopping down against your comfiest pillow.
Wispy lashes fell over curled lids, the zip of a fan hushing you to sleep. You awoke to rustling, your window cracked open for fresh air.
“Stupid foxes,” you muttered, rolling towards the window to shoo the pesky creatures away from your vegetables. Your heart halted, however, face a pasty shade of terror as you watched a figure, much larger than a fox, break the glass to your back door, the stone floor of your patio humming against the shards of crystal.
Pesky fingers reached for your phone, a monotone strain coming from your throat as you phoned for Price, eyes now a glassy bowl of unshed tears.
“Hey love, you ok?” The normally comforting tone only spurred your anxiety as you choked out a sob, an instant call of your name blasting through the speakers of the phone.
“There’s someone inside the house,” you choked out, your voice a mere whisper as you huddled in the corner, fingers twisting the lock on your bedroom door.
“Call Gaz in the meantime; we’ll be home in 10 minutes.”
You were a whimpering mess, swollen body trembling in your ensuite as Gaz attempted to calm you down, telling you the police were on the way. There was a commotion downstairs, kitchenware clattering as you presumed, he was rummaging around. Timber creaked under a lead foot, stairs straining under the man's weight as he stomped upstairs.
“Kyle, he’s upstairs,” you trembled, your throat constricted with a coil of anxiety as your limbs tremored, a protective hand strung across the swell of your belly. The Sergeant’s voice brought you no comfort as you heard the door to the nursery swing open, the squeak of a baby toy rattling against the wood. Your gut was burning, tender hands clutching against the marble counter in a motion to hold yourself up, your knees locking up as you clattered to the floor.
Price’s hands were stained permanent ivory, his knuckles protruding from broken skin as he pulled down your street, head beams flickering at the cars before calloused tyres screeched down a turning lane, the bulky SUV swerving into the driveway. Simon had rummaged through the glovebox on the first ring of your call, massive frame bouldering out of the unparked car as his keys twitched in the door, the steady frame of Soap in toe.
Rough fingers wrapped around carbon steel, silent footsteps thrumming against wallpaper as you shifted in the bathroom, gentle sobs wracking through your body.
You were unaware of what was going on outside your bedroom, the faint sounds of a man’s voice, unrecognisable through the thickness of the walls only spurring anxiety shrill of terror through you.
You knew they would never let anything happen to you, but what if something happened to them in the process? Sure, they were trained for combat but that doesn’t make you invincible.
You clutched your stomach, humming to yourself in an attempt to calm down.
Simon was livid, they all were. The house you had built for them all years ago was now tainted. A place you should be safe in was no longer available.
Soap’s voice was sharp as he entered the nursery, enjoying the twisted satisfaction of watching the intruder still as the safety of the gun unlocked.
“You make a f’cking movement and I’ll put a bullet in ye head, ye hear me?”
There was a slow nod from the man as Ghost entered, slamming him against the wall with a crash, his hands tied behind his back as he lunged him down the stairs. There was a faint echo of sirens in the distance as you sheltered yourself, still unsure of what was happening.
There was a rattle against the door, a soft voice calling out to you.
“It’s just me, love. Open the door.”
The doorknob felt crumbly under your touch, fingers barely able to twist it. Price’s body was warm as he engulfed your shaking figure, wet cheeks staining his shirt in a soppy mess. Thick hands grabbed at the plush of your thighs, lifting you with ease into burly arms, the tickle of his moustache against your ears as he lolled a soft apology to you.
“Shouldn’t ‘ave left you alone dove, feel like I failed you.”
The captain’s heart was bleak, an ephemeral feeling of guilt worn on his shoulder before you nuzzled your face into the crook of his neck, soggy lips placing a feathery kiss upon the worn skin.
“It’s not your fault, John. Could’ve happened to anyone on our street.”
The night was slow, Gaz consoling the police as Soap and Price comforted you, tending to your every need as Ghost stood outside, dark eyes glaring into the back of the police van at the man. You assured them you were okay, delicate hands rubbing your belly as you cooed, your heart finally returning to its normal bpm.
Once the blaring of red and blue lights simmered to a halt, and Ghost had run out to get a replacement door (otherwise, he wouldn’t have slept from keeping guard all night), you could fully relax. Your body was flush against the comfort of your L-shaped couch and Simon’s calloused back, fingers running through the roots of your hair.
Your eyes succumbed to temporary slumber at the touch, scalp tingling from the simplicity of gentle tugs. You were carried to bed, arms balled at the soft cotton of Soap’s shirt you had stolen. You nestled quickly into the comfort of your bed, lashes flat against your cheeks.
They all watched you, hands folded as they watched the rise of your chest, a flutter of breath leaving your lips every time it fell.
“Beautiful, ain’t she?” Price mumbled, cerulean eyes lapping in the mere sight of you, a proud glow comforting him knowing you were theirs.
“Damn right,” Ghost grunted.
There was a creak against the floorboards as your eyes opened, your voice delicate with sleep, “Will you guys stay tonight? All of you? Please.”
“Shoot us in the head if we ever say no to anything you say,” Soap uttered, a gentle slap whacking around his head from Simon as Kyle leaned into the bed, heavy hands immediately wrapping around your swell belly.
The night ended with whispers of affirmation and one happy girl.
I really have a type 👀
(Handsome men who scream "daddy" vibes and are lethal 😏)
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Price missed his lovely little wife.
He’d only just arrived home from deployment, the smell of the cooking dinner wafting towards him as he steps into the house, hanging up his hat and taking off his boots.
He learned the hard way that you do not tolerate mud and dirt on the floors.
John made his way into the kitchen, the sight of you almost making him wish to melt into your arms and kiss away all the time you’d lost while he was away.
You made him soft.
He came up behind you quietly, you knew he was there, and wrapped his arms around your waist before he buried his face into your neck. He took in your scent, the feeling of you again. He was home.
John gives light kisses to the back of your neck, trailing them to your shoulder as you giggle, his beard tickling you.
“John, I’m trying to cook, love-“ “don’t care- missed you so much..”
Let him hold you a little while longer, won’t you?
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𝐀𝐑𝐃𝐎𝐔𝐑 - 𝐉.𝐏 𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐓
Captain John Price X Female!Reader
Warnings: SMUT! (P in V, fingering, spit kink - Price spitting in readers mouth 🫣, unprotected sex, hints of a breeding kink?) PRICE IS A NASTY MF - implied secret relationship, language, mention of violence, mentions of guns, description of bullet wound, hint at Ghost being a peeping Tom @ the end, reader is described as a woman!!!!
Small summary: after a mission not going as smooth as planned, yourself and the boys had no choice but to hunker down in a safe house while you stitch up Soap - him taking a nasty bullet wound to the thigh - the heat is overwhelming and anticipation bubbling as you weren’t sure if you were entirely safe, the only thing that could take your mind off of it was your Captain’s lingering eyes, promiscuous and completely unprofessional thoughts racing through his mind about you.
!not proof read!
“Jesus fuckin’ Christ!” Sergeant Mactavish exclaims, his head thrown back as a pained groan rumbles from his chest - his accent thicker as he complains.
“Hold still, Soap.” You reply - your voice coming out stern as you focus on pulling the bullet out of his thigh, your breath wavering as you tried to concentrate - pushing away the panic and anxiety you were feeling at seeing your friend injured. Luckily, the bullet hadn’t gone deep - and as far as you could tell - it hadn’t hit an artery. “Almost out.” You added, trying to get him to calm down.
“Stay calm, Sergeant.” A low - gravelly voice filled the clouded room, your Captain stood behind the groaning Scot, a hand placed on his shoulder to ground him as well as keep him still in order for you to work easier.
The house you were holed up in - though you could barely call it a house - was in the butt-fuck middle of nowhere - not another sign of life in sight as all that surrounded you was sand and heat. The scorching sun blared through the single glass-pane window, lighting the room enough to your satisfaction - and if you looked over to the ray of sun, you could actually see the abundance of dust floating in the air. It was safe to say you were surprised when you learned this was a marked safe house and not some deserted shack in the middle of the urzikstan desert.
You were kneeled on the chalky ground, your knees aching from the concrete floor as Soap sat above you in the rickety chair, the furniture groaning in protest at the agitated soldiers weight. You hands worked fast - managing to remove the bullet from the surface of his flesh and immediately going to disinfect it.
“Shite!” He hissed, the wound burning as you pressed a antisept-soaked cotton pad to the open area, cutting him an apologetic look as his neck strained - teeth bared at the stinging pain shooting through his nerves.
After a few minutes of you working swiftly and silently - save for the few ‘sorry’s’ when you see the Sergeant wince when you push the needle through his flesh in order to close the wound - you managed to successfully stitch him up, sighing as you lean back slightly, the strain in your back and the cramp in your hands pushed aside as you observe your work - wanting to be extra sure your teammate was taken care of. After wrapping gauze around his thigh, Gaz and Ghost move over to Soap - wrapping his arms around their shoulders as they guide him to stand.
“You go and lie down, okay? You need to rest that leg so you don’t tear the stitches.” You order softly, rising to your feet - feeling your knees pop from the benumbed feeling of kneeling for so long.
“Aye.” Johnny grunts, exhaustion taking over his usually lively self as he looks to you, “I owe you big time, lass.” He says gratefully, casting you an appreciative and tired smile before he’s moving out of the room with the other two - Ghost mumbling something to about not being so reckless, his cold demeanour failing to mask his genuine worry for Soap.
You let out groan of relief as you take a seat at the rustic table, your whole body aching as you tried to relax as best as you could in the beaten down chair.
“You alright, love?” Price asks you - and for a moment, you’d forgotten he was still in the room with you - stood over by the window he’d pried open, a cigar in his hand as he looked over to you. He’d barely spoken a word since the mission had gone south, and as much as you wanted to ask if he was okay, you knew it was best not to pry for the moment - understanding that a lot of stress and emotions were weighed on his shoulders.
“Yeah.” You responded, a hand coming to rub and knead at the back of your neck - attempting to unwind the knot that has formed there. You felt uncomfortably warm, having removed your vest a while ago - leaving you in a simple tank top, though it did little to relieve your skin - the air almost impossibly humid.
Price surveyed you, bringing the thick cigar to his lips, relishing in the smoke burning his throat and lungs as he took you in. A light sheen of perspiration was layered on your skin - collecting between your breasts that gave the illusion that your skin was glowing, your once-neat updo having loosened, your hair falling more loosely and wild, and stray, defiant strands of hair stuck to your damp skin. Price had been silently replaying the events of before in his head - what he could’ve done to prevent it; to prevent Soap getting shot, and to prevent you being put in danger. But, seeing you now - looking as ravishing as you did, helped to take his mind away from his own self-doubt for a beat.
You reluctantly stood, having looked at the scattered medical supplies on the table and floor long enough - hoping that if you glared at it hard enough it would magically be cleaned up and put back to where it was supposed to be. You began slowly picking up pieces of gauze, rolls of surgical suture and various other supplies before placing them back into the first aid box, lost in your own thoughts as you stayed contently silent.
You felt his presence before he reached for you, he smells of ash, and a lingering acrid taste of a cigar burns your tongue. His aura is intrusive, but it’s never uncomfortable. Two calloused, large hands place themselves on the outside of your arms, pressing his hard body to yours - his chest to your back as his familiar, warm lips press onto the heated skin of your neck - the juncture of where your neck and shoulder meets.
“John…” you breathe, eyes flickering over to the open doorway - painfully reminded that you weren’t alone in the house, and if either of your teammates walked in, the first thing they would see is how your Captain is practically trapping your body to the dust-covered table with his own.
“Hm?” He hums back to you, the vibrations crawling from his chest and settling into the sensitive skin of your neck. He was doing it on purpose. Acting nonchalant about the compromising position that you could be caught red-handed in at any moment. “I love hearin’ y’say my name.” He murmurs against your skin, one of his sizeable hands placing itself on your midsection - effectively pushing you back and closer to him, also chipping away at your resolve as you fought back to not sink into the feeling of him. Your skin grew impossibly hotter, the weak feeling in your thighs becoming known as you were silently glad you were being held up between the table and John - certain your already exhausted legs would collapse - you had to stifle a gasp when you felt the light graze of teeth under your jaw, the wiry stubble of his goatee scratching across your delicate skin - your Captain continued his onslaught on your neck, nearly groaning at the taste of salt on your skin.
“They could catch us.” You remind him, breathlessly.
“They could.” He agrees, though he made no move to step away from you.
It was a dangerous game you were both playing. It’s not important how your dalliance with your Captain started - it being a long story of what started as lingering looks and intrusive thoughts as you distantly admired one another - knowing the consequences of what would happen if you were to act on your feelings. You could lose your job, and John would be punished greater than you - being kicked off the team and risking being stripped of his rank. Yet, it seemed he cared little for the consequences when one night - he’d shown up to your room in the barracks, telling you that you both needed to talk - a long overdue conversation - which actually led to him fucking you senseless on your single bed. You both agreed afterwards that you needed to keep whatever this was quiet - John promising you he’d find a way to make it not result in backlash when others learned about your relationship, and in the last few months - you were both in your own content little bubble outside of work, spending most of your time from deployment with him in his apartment in London.
Panic flashes across your face as you hear footsteps descending the stairs, each step groaning and creaking from heavy combat boots, Price then stepped away from you - going back to his place by the window to resume smoking his cigar, acting as if he hadn’t just left you a flustered mess. Gaz was who appeared, not taking any notice of the red dusting your cheeks and the nonplus stature you had while you remained stood by the table.
“He’s passed out.” Gaz interjected the atmosphere - unaware of the previous state you and the Captain were in, Price nodded briefly at Garrick, the end of his cigar burning orange embers for a second as he took a pull of the smoke. You also nodded at his words - shaking yourself out of it as your unsteady hands moved to close the first aid box. Gaz took a seat at the table - the seat previously occupied by Soap - as another set of heavier footsteps came down the staircase, the skull faced Lieutenant appearing, silent as he joined the table. You glanced over to Price, who casually watched out of the window. “It’s bloody boiling in here.” Garrick comments, tugging at the collar of his shirt. Ghost lets out a grumble of agreement, a gloved hand readjusting his mask slightly. You busy yourself, now having regained your composure as you silently took the box in your hands - walking out of the room to go and put it back with the other supplies. Price’s cerulean eyes flicking over to you, watching you leave the room.
It was a few hours later, daylight had burned and it grew darker. The air finally getting cooler and giving your body some relief. You had just finished checking up on Soap - him finally feeling more like himself, joking and putting on his charm as usual. It was a relief to see him act like himself, as well as that his wound hadn’t shown any signs of infection. The stairs creaked under your feet as you left Johnny to rest and descended to the ground floor. Glancing into the living room to see Gaz had made himself comfortable on the worn down sofa, and was already passed out. Simon was no where to be seen - and you guessed he was either outside on watch or he’d just found himself a private area for the night, understanding that he prefers his own company sometimes.
You snatched a pillow from the armchair in the living room - unfortunately, the only bed that was actually inhabitable; was occupied by an injured Soap. You would’ve slept in the living room, but Gaz’s snoring was already doing your head in. You moved to the more open room - where the flimsy dining table was. You went to the other end of the room, laying the pillow on the hard ground and lying down. The pillow gave your head some relief, but the hardwood floor dug unmercifully into your already aching back.
You sighed, staring up at the ceiling, observing the parts where the paint had chipped. You laid there for a moment, hands resting on your stomach as you enjoyed the peace and quiet - yet it also put you on edge; you could hear a pin drop it was that silent.
You decided to shut your eyes, disappointed to feel not even an ounce of sleep behind your eyes, you let out another frustrated sigh - scrunching your brows as you tried to will yourself to get some rest.
When you heard the quiet shuffling of boots moving towards you, your breath slowed - already knowing who it was as you felt him settle on the ground beside you, a strong arm slithering around your stomach and gently pulled you to him until your back met his hard chest.
“What are you doing?” You asked, your voice sounding stern - though, you could both hear the smile in it.
“Wha’s it look like i’m doin’?” Price asked rhetorically, his voice low and gravelly - his accent mixing his words to a perfect melody as it vibrated against your ear. You felt his stubble prickling the back of your neck as he placed a single, wet kiss there - a shiver rolling down your spine.
“Not here.” You sighed reluctantly, even having him lay next to you was risky - as well as that it was effectively arousing you like a bitch in heat. It’s been so long - too long - since you’d felt him, having been on this mission for weeks now and not having an ounce of privacy between you.
“Was only wantin’ a cuddle, love.” He responded with a raspy chuckle, his voice having a teasing edge to it as his arm flexed around your torso slightly - pulling you closer to him until there was practically no space between your bodies. “-unless…” he trailed off, his arm around your torso slowly moving south, his fingers dancing along the slit of exposed skin where your top ended and your pants begun.
“They’ll hear us.” You say, your voice growing breathless as you tried to remind him - as well as yourself - looking down to try and watch his fingers in the dark - only being able to make out darker shapes as you felt his finger tease under the waistband of your pants - trailing along the sensitive skin of you abdomen.
“We’ll be quiet.” He says, his liquid voice soothing you as he nestles his head in the crook of your neck - also looking down to watch his hands work as they slowly begin to pop the buttons of your pants open.
You don’t reply, breath bated as you feel your pants grow loose on your hips and leisurely pushed down to your thighs - feeling your skin being exposed to the air.
He lets out a hum against your neck, adjusting his head to softy suck at the thin skin of your jugular - feeling your breath hitch as his warm, large hand slides further down, slipping under the cotton fabric of your underwear and cupping your pussy, feeling how hot, puffy and slick you were under his palm.
“Oh, sweetheart..” He groaned, his voice barely above a whisper as he leans more over you to get a better look at your face, a smug smirk pulling his lips and goatee up as his hand wedges itself between your closed thighs - flexing his wrist to essentially grind his hand against your neglected cunt. “How long ya been like this? All wet for me?” He asked lowly - though he knew you were too focused on not crying out to answer him. His pride grew as he felt your hips begin to rock on their own accord, grinding into his palm as well as brushing your arse against his clothed cock. “Soaked… and I haven’t even put my fingers in you yet.” He practically growls against your neck - his voice reverberating through your entire body, his touch feeling electric.
“John…” you breathe a quiet whine, and he feels his chest swell as he could already hear the pleading edge in your voice, his cock throbbing in the confines of his pants.
“Tell me to stop.” He breathes, his hand pressing up against you - feeling your slick stick to his palm. He let out a low, gravelly breath as he felt how hot and wet you were. He doesn’t wait for you to respond - because he knows you won’t. He knows you won’t tell him to stop.
And you know it too.
You hear the metal of his zipper being pulled, the noise joining the soundtrack of your heavy breathing. The hand still buried inside of your underwear shifts, spreading your slick over your puffy clit, sending small jolts through your body. When you hear a quiet, strangled groan from behind you, you turn to look over your shoulder.
Price was still laying on his side behind you, his pants being pulled down enough so that his cock was free. You watched in awe as he slowly fisted his dick, pumping himself languidly as his other hand was still buried inside of your underwear - a calloused thumb circling your bud of nerves while you felt two of his thick fingers tease at your quivering, drooling entrance.
You thankfully didn’t need to whine and beg - mostly because John was growing just as desperate as you were. His thick fingers sank into you, stretching you more than your own fingers could, you let out a soft hiss as your hips squirmed a little.
“Be quiet.” Price orders, his tone authoritative yet dripping with lust, he began slowly dragging his fingers in an out of you - scissoring you open to get you ready for his cock. His chin rested on your shoulder again as he watched you squirm and bite your lip in an attempt to keep quiet, his voice a breath of air against your ear - “so fuckin’ tight.”
His other hand released its hold on his cock, lifting to cup your jaw and turn you to face him. He pried your bottom lip from under your teeth with his thumb before he planted his lips on yours - letting out a long exhale through his nose as he relished the taste of you. His fingers moving a little faster as your quiet noises fell onto his tongue.
He pulled back a moment later, his face hovering above yours. You could only just see his face in the dark, his lips parted as he took in your expression.
“Open.”
Like the good girl you were, you did as you were told, your lips parting and your tongue peeking out invitingly. He let out a small groan of approval before he spat into your mouth. You took what he gave you, whimpering a little as you swallowed. His fingers pulled out of you then, leaving you feeling empty. A protest was on the tip of your tongue before you felt him use his booted foot to push your pants the rest of the way down your legs, and you quickly kicked them off your ankles, the sound of fabric hitting the floor filling the room for a beat.
One of his thighs wriggled between your legs, pushing your legs open as he melded against you. Wasting no time in gathering your slick with the flushed tip of his cock before he pushed into you. Pressing your lips together again as you both groaned from the stretch of his cock slowly filling you.
“So fuckin’ tight…” he groaned again, his voice barely above a whisper as his head fell onto your shoulder - his cock throbbing between your hot, constricting walls. “Like you were made for me, love.” He added with a breathless chuckle, slowly rocking his hips until he was fully buried into you.
“John-“ you gasped as he bottomed out, your body already writhing beside him, your chest rising and falling with shallower breaths.
At the sound of your noises unintentionally upping in volume, his free hand came to clasp around your mouth - muffling the little whimpers threatening to escape. “I know…” he cooed against your ear in a whisper. “Got to be quiet for me sweetheart, don’t want to others to catch us — to catch me filling you up like this.” He breathed, his own breathing quickening as he began to rock his hips in hard, shallow thrusts.
The moan that escaped was trapped into his palm, your legs already quivering as his cock dragged against every spot inside of you it seemed only he could find. You weakly rocked back against him, hearing his hot breath fan against your ear as it seemed he was also trying to stay quiet.
“Not gonna last long, love.” He says honestly. You too were already feeling the beginnings of shock waves indicating an incoming orgasm. It’d been such a long few weeks since he’d been able to fuck you. “Need you to come around my cock before I can fill you up.” He growls, the hand not muffling your mouth reached down to fan across your clit - your body immediately tensing, your cunt practically strangling his cock.
His pelvis kept hitting your arse in slow but hard thrusts, rocking your body with him as his chest remained glued to your back. One of his hands cupping your breasts through your shirt while the other was down to where you were joined together - touching your clit in tight circles. His face pressed into your neck, his goatee burning your skin deliciously. Your teeth trapped your bottom lip between them - forcing yourself to muffle your noses - almost to the point you could taste copper in your mouth.
It felt like the knot in your stomach was tightening by the minute, your body shuddering and your thighs tensing as they were forced open by his own muscled thighs.
“M’gonna come-“ you moan quietly, spurring him on as he let a low groan into your neck. He picked up his pace a little, nearly rolling you onto the side with the force of his thrusts, his fingers began smacking tapping at your throbbing clit, his cock piercing you open as his thrust grow sloppy. His hot tongue laved over the think skin of your neck - the sensitive spot just under your neck that he knew would have you trembling.
About several seconds later it happened. Your abdomen coiling taught as you felt heat and desire crash through you, your lips parting in a silent moan as you stiffened for a moment - your pussy quivering around him as you came.
He continued to fuck you through it, his eyes glued to your face as he watched your expression contort with euphoria. He let out a low and breathy groan when he felt you tighten around him. “That’s right, love… make a mess on me-“ he encouraged, his gravelly voice whispering into your ear as he held you to him.
He wasn’t that far behind you, grunting curses and profanities into your ear about filling you up as his hips met yours with one final, hard thrust, before he was spilling his hot come into you. His body shuddering beside you as he panted into your neck again.
You let out a quiet, weak moan as you felt warmth of his spend bloom inside of you. You both stayed there for a few minutes, catching your breaths as you felt sweat dancing over your skin - your pussy still pulsing around his softening cock from the aftershocks of such an intense orgasm.
“Fuckin’ hell..” he breathed — his voice trailing to a soft chuckle as he slowly pulled his lax cock out of you, gently shushing you when you whined at the loss. “So good f’me, always such a good girl…” he praises, kissing around your ear as he whispers sweet nothings to you.
As your captain coddled you and cleaned you up, you were both blissfully unaware of the ogling eyes from the shadows, the moonlight shining through the window giving a glimmer of light to reflect against the cool surface of the skull mask…
A/N: hope everyone enjoyed! Sorry it took so long to get out been a lil busy. I couldn’t resist adding the little mention of Ghost in the end — I LOVE reading those fics and head cannons of Ghost x you x Price.
Ooo maybe I should write a Ghost x reader x Price??? Lmk!!