Nikolai And Price Sending Each Other Chest Pictures At Their Gyms:

But Sir!

John Price x fem!reader

pt2. Call the Fire Department!

tw:SMUT SMUTTY UTTY, uhm. yeah. you’ve been warned!!! pwp

the keyboard clicks continuously as you scrunch your eyebrows in concentration. the numbers aren’t adding up. why aren’t they adding up?? you see, every quarter on the base, you have to submit a report to the Lt. Col. in charge of the base, and you, a secretary, submit reports for none other than Captain John Price. normally, you plug in the numbers and resources like a whiz, and your Captains mission reports are impeccable, aiding your workload significantly.

your team, task force 141, just got back from what you were told, was a routine mission aiding some foreign allies, in Las Almas, Mexico. John had been amazing in giving you a report as usual, but the numbers and resources just didn’t make sense to you! missing gear there, adding soldiers we didn’t have here, why didn’t it all add up? you inhale and stand up firmly, picking up Johns most recent report and marching to his office. you straighten out your skirt and fix you blouse to make yourself look presentable for your captain before knocking on the door softly.

“enter.” a deep voice says, and you push the door open, files still in hand. John reclines in his chair, smoking a cigar, eyes boring into you. “ah. it’s you.” he sounds pleased, at least that’s something. “yes sir. i was working on the quarter report, and i noticed something wrong with your numbers…i mean not that you’re wrong but it’s just not adding up…” you’re babbling now, and John watches with an almost amused look on his face. “ah. uh-huh. why don’t you come over ‘ere an’ show me what the matter is.” he says, leaning forward. your gaze flits to his hairy arms that seem to bulge out of the plain tee shirt he wears. you swear they change something in you. it’s not like you will ever admit out loud that you think your boss is attractive, but it’s true…good thing you never will say it out loud. bad news for you though, John is a keen man, and picks up on the looks you’ve given him.

Las Almas mission was a perfect excuse for him to give you the opportunity to come to him alone like this. sure, the mission did actually have the wrong numbers with it going south with Graves and the alliance with Los Vaqueros, but this was Johns reward. he watches as you make your way around the desk, clutching to the papers like a vice. he pulls the cigar out of his mouth and blows out smoke before placing it back in. leaning away from the desk, he man spreads, making sure to face you, not missing the way your legs press together in your tights. he watches as you lean over his desk and how your little pencil skirt rides up. the papers placed on his desk are spread so you can show what’s wrong with them. you continue to talk, pointing out discrepancies in the normally perfect patterns you’re oh so used to. can’t give you anything too challenging apparently! that’s okay though, John will fix it later, you don’t need to love.

he’s just a man in the end, despite trying to be the gentleman he normally is, he can’t resist how plush your thighs look. he reaches out with his right hand and places it over your left hip, keeping you pressed over the desk. you finally shut your mouth and instead let a small gasp leave you. “listen here, i know the paperwork looks off, but you’re a smart bird aren’t you?” his grip doesn’t waver and he stands behind you, hips lining up with yours. if only clothes didn’t hold him back, he thinks. “uhm.” you say, scrambling to find the right words. “yea, you are smart. so why don’t you pick up a pen, and fix the numbers. move ‘em around like a good girl, and make. it. work.” he punctuates the last few words, pressing your stomach against the desk now. “sir I can’t..” its pathetic really, how much your words are borderline whiny. “mm. how bout this. i play with this pretty little cunt and you fix the paperwork.” you bite your lip and look back down and your little papers

you can’t exactly deny that you don’t want this, because you do. you want the captain. so you do what your told, and pick up a heavy black fountain pen, looking over the paper for a way to fix these numbers. his hands drift over your ass and up under your skirt, pushing it up to your hips. his eyes widen and he groans, pulling his cigar out to let out a breath. you aren’t wearing any knickers. pushing the cigar back in his mouth, he sucks on it lazily and moves for the knife in his back pocket. flicking it open, he brings it right where your entrance is before cutting out a hole for him to get his fingers through. you’re practically shaking like a leaf with excitement, unable to write anything. when he pushes his middle finger inside, you mewl out, looking back at him. tutting, he pushes your head back down to the paper. “fix it, doll.” he says while lazily pushing a second finger in. you nod and start at the gear that the men would’ve used. as he picks up the pace, his other hand comes down to palm himself, and he unbuttons his cargos for better access, pushing himself on your ass. you’re thoroughly soaked now, and press back to meet each press of his fingers as they reach places you could never dream of.

“i reckon you’re about ready, huh doll?” he murmurs, taking out his cigar for another breath out, returning it to his mouth when he’s done. you eyebrows furrow as your pen strokes get lazy. “ready for what?” you slur. “thought it was obvious.” he shrugs, pulling his fingers out and pressing his boxers against you. he bends over and pulls out his cigar so he can whisper in your ear, “ready to take me, sweetheart.” he says before plopping his cigar back in his mouth and standing straight up. “but sir!” you exclaim. “we can’t. people could walk in, you’re a captain, what if someone needs you.” he scoffs. “you got a problem with that but not me filling you up with my fingers?” he yanks down his boxers just enough to pull himself out and line him up with your entrance. “wore no knickers for a reason, right? to be my personal temptation, huh?” he grunts before dipping in. “my little secretary and her captain.” he palms your hair and pushes you down fully against the desk. you whine as he pushes in fully. he isn’t terribly long, moreover terrible thick. stretches you out easily and makes you squirm against his grasp. “please sir…” you say, scrambling for the hand that’s planted next to your head. you rub it and draw hearts on it slowly, as he’s refusing to move. a deep rumble emerges from his chest and he pushes in harshly, shoving right up against that sweet spot. then the real fun starts, and you can’t get him to stop.

like you ever want him to!

gasps continue to leave your throat along with whines showing your pleasure to the captain. his groans pick up as he pushes you both closer to the edge, and you clench around him on a particularly hard thrust. his hand comes up and pushes on your spine and you writhe against being stuck on him. his other hand comes up and take his cigar out, blowing out more smoke. an idea pops into his head. shifting his hand up your spine and to your hair, he yanks you up sharply with his left hand, and your feet struggle to find the ground. he forces his burly arm around your torso and brings his right hand with his cigar to your mouth, pushing it past your already open lips. “go on, take a puff, doll.” he growls, forcing himself deeper in you. at his words something inside you snaps and you wail around the cigar, struggling to inhale as you come. he chortles, pressing a kiss behind your ear. his hips stutter slightly as you clench from the aftershocks, and he withdraws the cigar from your mouth, putting it back in his own. he watches as you puff out a smoky breath, and moans at the sight of, feeling himself ready to spill. he twists your arm behind you and pulls your hand to the base of his member. “pinch.” he growls, and brings his hand to your clit, rubbing furiously. you do what you’re told and pinch as you approach a quickly approaching finish.

“let go when i say” he barks. “gonna fill my good little secretary up.” you squeal at his words, trying to escape, but failing, pinned beneath his heavy form. “ngh-please please please sir, wan’ it so bad.” your words are practically slurred as he continues to ram into you. it just turns him on more and more. he’s so so close, you feel so good around him. “alright, let go.”he growls in your ear and you release around him, shaking as he follows suit, stilling as he spurts in you. he lets out a finally groan, forehead resting on your shoulder as you both pant. you feel his spend dripping out of you and staining your tights. he must’ve been backed up, you think lazily. drool had pooled out of your mouth and onto the desk and papers below, ruining it. you both lay there, content as he runs his beard on your neck, cigar dangling from his left hand. “so good f’me.” you sigh against him once more and bring a hand up to the one that sits on the right side of your face, clutching it. You both sit there for who knows how long.

until a knock sounds at the door. your eyes widen and John’s head lifts up. “What is it.” he barks. “‘S me, cap’n.” Simon. his rough voice cuts out, and you hear the door open and john mumbling out a string of curses, but no attempt to pull out, keeping you pinned with his weight. “oh. see you finally got ‘round to it, cap’n. could’ve called me though, would’ve quite enjoyed ruining our bird.” is all Simon says before turning on his heel and shutting the door with a loud click. you’re beet red from your position on the desk, and tears fill your eyes. your lieutenant just caught you underneath your captain, and who knows what’ll happen now. “sir…” you whine. “i-i hafta go, can’t been seen by anyone else with you.” he rumbles his deep laugh, and pulls you both onto the chair. “mm, you worried love?” you’re so frustrated at this point, trying to escape his hairy arms. “yes! the lieutenant could tell anyone!” he sets his head on your shoulder and angles his mouth to your ear.

“you didn’t listen did you. you’re our bird. he isn’t going to tell nobody.” you begin to go limp again as a hand reaches down in between your legs again. “can’t bloody let you go now, can we? won’t ever leave us again. next time you’ll let Simon use you, he’s been good lately.” you squirm and let out a breathy moan. “mm. like that, do ya’? all o’ us using you?”

“yea. i know you do, pretty girl.”

“sir.”

he chortles, pressing open mouth kisses along your neck, cigar long discarded in its ashtray, allowing his fingers to finally undo your blouse. hes chubbing up inside you again, and it’s in that moment you know you just got yourself caught in a trap you will never escape.

Barry Sloane as Zachary Heflin Longmire (2012-2017) Pt. 2

Valentines day with Price and the Missus

Happy Valentine’s Day my lovelies! I hope you all have a lovely day, if you’re celebrating today or if it’s just like any other day for you, either way I hope you have a wonderful day💕And enjoy this valentine’s fic of Price with his Missus.

(Btw I hyped this up and got people excited for it and now I’m scared it’s shit🙈)

Cw: male and female receiving oral

The feeling of heat between your thighs has you stirring in your sleep, the early morning sunrise bleeding in through the slight gap in the curtains, an orange glow taking over the room.

The movement underneath the covers snags your attention. Lifting up the edge to take a peak underneath, a head of brown hair littered with short greys is nestled between your legs.

Price has made himself quite comfortable with a leg over his shoulder and his arm wrapped firmly round the other keeping you spread wide for him, as he continues the trail of hickeys that he's started on the inside of your thighs. Not even bothering to look up at you from his position between your legs.

The purplish bruises litter the inside of your thighs. There's loads of them. Big and small covering the tender flesh in different shades of purples and blues.

How long had he possibly been down there for? If the hickeys were anything to go by it has clearly been quite a while.

"J...John" You mumble out a hand drifting down to lace through his hair, giving it a slight tug release a groan from deep in his throat.

"Good morning, love" John mutters between the kisses he's now placing on your thighs. his thumb aimlessly tracing over your hip bone back and forth, the feeling comforting. "Happy valentines day, my darling" His coarse facial hair scratching against your inner thighs as he hooks a finger under the waist band of your pyjama shorts, pulling them down round your hips and up over your thighs, discarding them some where in the room.

Your pussy now bare and exposed to him waiting and aching for him to bring his warm mouth to your aching core. His lips come down to wrap around your clit, sucking the bundle of nerves into his mouth hard.

His fingers dig into the fat of your thighs (most likely leaving more purple bruises on your body). His tongue lazily circling your clit flicking it before sucking it back into his mouth. Your loud moans fill the room, all filthy and lewd as you whine out.

"J..John, oh god...fuck!" Your back arching off the bed, thighs shaking as they rest on either side of his head.

Dipping down into your cunt, his tongue flattens against your folds before he's lapping at your slick. Your hips rising from the bed and pushing into his face tryna get more from him. Desperate to coat his face in your cum. Wanting to see your slick coat his facial hair in a slight sheen.

"Shh, shh, shh, almost done darling" John coos pushing your hips back down into the bed. The tips of his thick digits press at your sopping entrance, pushing their way through and stretching your tight little hole out. Fingers curling up to hit that spongy part of you that will have you toppling over the edge.

Fingers thrusting in and out of you at a slow and torturous pace, fingers hitting that spot deep inside of you just as his mouth continues to flick and suck on your swollen clit.

Your hands find their way underneath your pyjama shirt, pinching and twisting at your nipples. The added stimulation has heat building inside you, your stomach twisting into knots as that pleasure builds up ready and waiting to explode.

John rises up from underneath the covers, his lips meeting yours sloppy and wet as teeth clash together in the desperation of his need for you, his tongue pushes its way into your mouth, dancing with yours, as the taste of yourself on his tongue overwhelms your sense.

His fingers continue to pump in and out of you, the palm of his hand brushing against your swollen and sensitive clit with each pump of his fingers. Your moan being swallowed down by his mouth on yours.

“Cum for me, love. Come on give it to me” John says as he nips at the skin just below your ear. His fingers pumping faster his palm brushing harder against your clit. Your hips grinding up against his palm, begging for more friction against your poor aching clit.

Your walls clenching down on his thick digits as you spasm around him, your orgasm coming in waves as you reach the peak of your arousal. Removing his fingers from inside of you, John brings them up to his mouth so he can suck your cum clean off them. Making sure not leaving anything behind.

“Good morning” John remarks a smirk plastered across his face before pecking a kiss to your forehead. Rolling his body off of yours to lay next to you, the mattress creaks in protest at his weight.

Laying your head on his chest he wraps an arm around you pulling you in close. “Enjoy yourself?” John asks clearly chuffed with his morning activities.

“I could ask you the same question” You pant out still recovering from your recent orgasm. John lets out a chuckle as his fingers automatically start running through your hair.

“Hey John” you mutter as your hand trails down his chest, over his stomach and down his slight happy trail towards his cock, that lays half chubbed up under his boxers.

A grunt from deep in his chest is all you’re met with as you slip under his waistband, gripping a hold of his cock.

“Can I return the favour?” You ask mischief in your tone. As you run your hand up and down his length, the precum escaping his red aching tip acting as a lube for you to use.

“Always” He mutters as he crosses his arms behind his head and closes his eyes. Relaxing into the soft mattress and pillows making himself comfortable.

Raising his hips so you can pull his boxers down onto his thighs, freeing his cock from its confinement. His cock springing free slapping against his stomach.

Taking it in your grasp you work his cock up and down, it now being fully firm in your grasp. His red angry tip profusely leaking beads of clear sticky precum as you work him from base to tip.

You take him into your mouth swirling your tongue around his tip before you’re guiding him deeper down your throat.

"oooh, look at you, darling. You take my cock so fucking well" John grunts out hips rising, pushing himself as deep as he can go into your throat. His large hand coming down to tangle in your hair, slightly pushing down just so he can hear your gag and sputter around him as his tip rams against the spongey skin at the back of your throat.

John watches you through hooded eyes as his cock continuously disappears down your throat. Your other hand cups his balls, giving them a slight squeeze as John loves when you do that.

A string of animalistic grunts and growls escape from deep inside John as you pull his cock out from your mouth with a pop, dragging his tip over your lips coating them in his precum before you place a kiss to his tip, your tongue drags across his slit, tasting the salty liquid that escapes from it.

"You keep doing that and I'll coat that pretty little face of yours, darling" John says through gritted teeth. His thighs shaking underneath you, he won’t last much longer and you know it.

Swirling your tongue around his tip one more time has him cumming all over your face. Warm creamy spurts of cum coat your face in a glimmer of his pearly release.

(Here's your reminder @kamlicious, enjoy🤭)

Thinking about reader who secretly pined for the rugged, bearded older man who frequented the gym.

You got more motivated to work out—just for the chance to see him. Every time you went, you made sure to claim the treadmill right in front of him, your heart pounding in sync with his rhythmic breaths.

The sound of his panting as he ran sent a thrill down your spine, igniting a delicious fantasy. You imagined him chasing after you, his gaze locked onto your form. Heat simmered in your core at the thought of glancing back, only to find him utterly focused. The thought got your feet moving quick.

Unbeknownst to you, he had a similar thought in mind as he started sprinting on the treadmill behind you.

”is that what you’re wearing today, doll?”

“yes, why, you don’t like it daddy?🥺”

“your dad fine with that?”

“go ask him, sir, you’re his best friend”

“the thighs, off. in my pocket, now”

“you’re gonna keep them?”

“yeah, just like I’m gonna keep you tied to my office chair if you don’t stop teasing me. behave, sweetheart”

Playing for Keeps

pairing: RugbyCaptain!John Price x Female Reader

synopsis: Dragged to a local rugby match by your best friend, you didn’t expect to find yourself captivated by the team’s captain, John Price. 

word count: 832

warnings: Suggestive themes, playful teasing, mutual pining, soft fluff, and a healthy dose of rugby-inspired tension.

a/n: Heavily inspired by Sébastien Chabal. Sorry, this is the most suggestive I can go😭

You weren't sure why you let your best friend drag you to the local rugby match that day. It wasn't that you didn't like rugby-it was fine-but watching a bunch of burly men tackle each other wasn't exactly your idea of a relaxing weekend.

That was, until you saw him.

John Price.

The captain of the team, with his broad shoulders, chiseled jaw, and that perpetual scruff that somehow made him look both rugged and polished. He had an air of command, moving on the field like he owned it. Every pass, every tackle, every barked instruction was met with respect. It was impossible to look away.

Your friend had noticed.

"See something you like?" she teased, elbowing you in the ribs.

"Shut up," you muttered, though you couldn't stop your eyes from following him.

By the end of the game, Price's team had taken home the win, and you found yourself lingering near the sidelines as the players began to filter out. You weren't exactly sure what you were waiting for-an autograph? A glimpse of him up close?

What you weren't expecting was for him to notice you.

"Enjoy the game, love?" His deep voice sent a shiver down your spine as he approached, his shirt slung over one shoulder, revealing a chest and arms that could have been sculpted by the gods.

You blinked, trying to gather yourself. "It was... intense."

He chuckled, his blue eyes sparkling with amusement. "Intense is one word for it." He offered his hand, large and calloused. "John Price."

You shook it, your hand practically swallowed by his. "I know."

He arched a brow, his smirk growing. "Oh, you know, do you?"

You flushed. "I mean, you're the captain. It's hard not to notice."

"Noticed me, did you?" he teased, leaning in just enough to make your breath hitch.

You tried to muster a witty response, but before you could, he stepped back, pulling a card from his back pocket and slipping it into your hand.

"Give me a call sometime," he said with a wink. "I'll show you a game up close."

And that's how it started.

-

The months that followed were a whirlwind. Price was nothing like you expected. Beneath his commanding presence and tough exterior was a man who could be gentle and fiercely protective.

He made you laugh, listened to you talk about the smallest details of your day, and always, always made you feel like you were the center of his world.

But that didn't mean he didn't have a mischievous side.

Like now, for instance.

You were in his kitchen, attempting to make dinner while he leaned against the counter, freshly showered and still in his team's training shorts.

The tight fabric clung to his thighs, leaving little to the imagination, and the way he kept running a hand through his damp hair wasn't helping.

"John," you said, exasperated as he reached over to steal a piece of the bread you were slicing.

"Stop it!"

"Can't help it," he said, his voice low and teasing.

"You're too tempting, love."

You rolled your eyes. "I meant the bread."

"Did you, now?" He stepped closer, crowding into your space, the heat of him enveloping you.

"Because I think you like it when I can't keep my hands off you."

Your heart skipped a beat as his hands settled on your hips, his fingers brushing against the thin fabric of your shirt. He leaned in, his scruff scraping lightly against your cheek as he whispered, "Admit it."

You turned to face him, your breath catching at the intensity in his eyes. "You're insufferable," you managed, though the words lacked any real bite.

"Maybe," he murmured, his lips hovering just above yours. "But you love it."

Before you could respond, his mouth claimed yours in a kiss that was both playful and demanding. He tasted like mint and something inherently him, and you found yourself melting against him, the bread completely forgotten.

His hands tightened on your hips as he lifted you onto the counter with ease, slotting himself between your legs. The kiss deepened, and you threaded your fingers through his hair, earning a low groan from him that sent heat pooling in your stomach.

"John," you gasped when he finally pulled back, his lips trailing down your jaw to your neck.

"Hmm?" he hummed against your skin, his scruff adding a delicious friction that made your toes curl.

"The food," you managed weakly.

"Forget the food," he said, his voice rough with desire. "I've got something better in mind."

You couldn't help but laugh, the sound soft and breathless. "You're impossible."

"And yet, here you are," he teased, pulling back just enough to look at you. His eyes softened as he cupped your face, his thumb brushing against your cheek. "You're everything, you know that?"

Your heart swelled at the sincerity in his voice.

"You're not too bad yourself," you said, pulling him back down for another kiss.

Dinner could wait.

taglist:@honestlymassivetrash

The Mountain Is You

Ch. 1:  I've become a figment of my imagination

Dom!Ghost and Dom!Price x Sub!Reader

I'm making this one official. (Chapter 2!)

CW: Dom/sub, bondage/discipline, pain play, spanking.

Explicit/NSFW/MDNI

Ghost had been the perfect introductory level Dom.  You’d started visiting the office of Life Connect 141 after a referral from a friend, and he’d had many of the qualities you’d been looking for in a partner. 

He was anonymous and discreet.  With his mask on, you never had to worry about bumping into him in the grocery store or bringing your car into the shop and finding out the man operating the nut driver had whipped your ass raw and called you his perfect little dove as you gargled incoherent sounds around his fingers. 

He was quiet, too, and had a way of making you feel comfortable.  His commands were issued in crisp, clipped tones that were easy to follow and get right.  Yes.  No.  That’s it.  Again?   You even heard his voice in your dreams and used it to ground yourself when you needed motivation or a tether to the present.

You replayed your most effective scenes in your mind in the same way you imagined some people pictured the ocean or listened to bird songs.

The pulsing heat of your backside tucked tightly in a pencil skirt, combined with his languid ‘good girl’ echoing through your mind, was enough to make your panties wet in the middle of a board meeting or standing on the platform at the train station.

And his aftercare was more than sufficient.  Although, to be honest, it bordered a bit on the cold side.  Rehearsed in a way that felt like he was only going through the motions.  Counting the minutes before whispering, “That’s my time, hon,” in your ear as he helped you to your feet.

He was there for you, but he didn’t need you.  It was you who sought out his services.  He’d done his job when you left feeling refreshed and confident to tackle whatever chaos awaited you in the world outside his office.  He was a professional, and you were a client. 

He wasn’t cheap, either.  Your self-care budget had taken a backseat to more pressing responsibilities, and it had become more and more difficult to make an appointment.  He’d become quite popular and needed to be booked further and further in advance.  You didn’t always know if you’d be in the right headspace when he was available, but you didn’t want to give up your place in the rotation. 

But it wasn’t for any of those reasons that you called to cancel your future sessions and take your name off the last-minute openings list.  He didn’t do anything wrong.  It was all you.

You’d trusted Ghost, worked up a relationship where he knew what you wanted and gave it to you exactly how you liked it, with a sniper’s precision.  At least until your latest session, when you desired something a bit...more. 

Work, and life in general, had been especially stressful.  A guy you’d started seeing from the gym had turned out to be a complete creep who stood you up on your second date, and spammed your phone for three days when you didn’t accept his apology or his offer to reschedule.  And your assistant had left for an unexpected medical leave and her temporary replacement didn’t know how to answer the phone. 

You were patient.  You were kind.  You were tired.  And now, on top of everything else, you needed to find a new gym.

It’d been a few months since you’d been in to see him, and you were severely overdue.  It was a recipe for disaster that, had you been a more experienced Sub, you may have been able to avoid.  Never go to bed angry?  Never visit your Dom when you were on the edge of spiraling out of control.

You were in your usual position, bottomless with your hands bound with his silk tie behind your back, ass presented to him on the faux leather sofa and your black lace panties in your mouth.  The mirror in front of you gave a view of the mirror behind you.  A 360 degree look at the crimson blood flowing hot under your fevered skin, the Hitachi vibrator strapped between your thighs and the dark figure at your back orchestrating it all. 

Everything was perfect.  Except that with each crack of the leather crop against your tender surface, you didn’t get any closer to the relief you sought.  You’d hit a wall, right on the cusp of that rapture you chased like a fiend.  Like a starving animal running down a faster prey with the last of its strength.

Pain had always been a curious thing for you.  Walking barefoot on the beach, the sharp rocks and shells against the arches of your feet were tactile and exhilarating.  The punishing ache of a deep tissue massage was more satisfying than the gentle glide of hands on your skin. 

There were times your whole body felt like an itch you couldn’t scratch.  That it needed to be flayed off or burned away, grown anew like antler velvet or snakeskin.

When he counted his twentieth whack, and you weren’t there yet, you whimpered with frustration.  The slickness at your core dried up, and the precipice of your orgasm disappeared from reach.  Just as you teetered at the top of the mountain, you slid back down to the bottom with a hopeless crash.

“Color, pet?”  At the unfamiliar sound of your distress, he stiffened behind you and moved quickly to pull the fabric from your mouth. 

“Green,” you pleaded, tears flooding your eyes unbidden. “Please.  Give me a few more.  I was close.”

“We already did three rounds of twenty.  I can’t go any further today.”  He kept his voice hard and controlled.  “Don’t want to scar this sweet, perfect ass.”

He slipped a glove off one hand and reverently grazed his knuckles over your welting hide.

“I’m renegotiating.  Please!”  You weren’t above begging.  Not like this.  Not when your blood ran hot enough to burn and sweat dripped between your breasts in desperation.

“No.”

“You think I’m weak, is that it?  That I can’t take it?”  Your ire sprung from your helplessness.  Not the physical surrender that you’d craved, but the impotent kind that left you empty and unfulfilled.

“Careful, dove.  Talking back to me like that.”  He slid his gloved hand along your cheek to cup your chin, turning you up to look at him.  Deceptively gentle as he gritted through clenched teeth, “You know better, don’t you?”

“What are you going to do about it?”  A fresh flare of anticipation fluttered through your belly, and settled low, where your bare cunt cradled the head of the vibrator.  

Fathomless eyes narrowed back at you with calculation from the openings of his mask.  The skull painted in place of his face sized you up in a fraction of a second before he let his hand fall away.

You squirmed under his scrutiny, clutching the smooth, hard plastic tighter between your thighs, rutting against the only point of contact you had left.  Willing it to be more and feel better than it did.

He sat silent, watching you struggle for what seemed like hours as your shoulders cramped and your knees shook from the constraints of your position.

“Help me?”  You begged again, running your tongue along your pouty lips.  Hungrily eyeing the zipper of his black dress pants.  “I’ll do anything you want.” 

Finally, he fisted a handful of your hair, pulling tight and sharp.  The sting both too brief and too late.

“You know the rules.”  The sympathetic slant of his head and the soft honesty in his tone pulled you out of the scene once and for all. 

You did know.  For all of its merits, Life Connect 141 also had its limits.  It was a business, and it came with strict guidelines.  No sex and no blood.  No exceptions.  Safe, sane, and consensual.  Sanitized and structured. 

Except none of those things were going to get you where you needed to be at that moment.  So, you did something you never thought you’d do.

You tapped out, muttering your safe word and pulling the plug.  He’d never given up on you before, but the clock had run out, and any further discussion was just a waste of his precious time.

The only indication he’d even heard you was a curt nod of acceptance and a clipped, “Alright,” as he untied your hands and rubbed some life back into your arms.

“Dove?”  He was concerned, and probably looking for his own reassurance.

Too humiliated to melt into his thick, tattooed arms, or to accept his offered ice pack for your battered backside, you simply dressed silently and shook him off with a faked smile.

“I’m fine.  Really.  See you next time.”  With not an ounce of truth.

You didn’t know the etiquette for breaking up your Dom, so you were surprised when you got a call barely an hour after you’d canceled.  Thinking it was a last ditch sales pitch to keep you as a customer, you let it go to voicemail.

But instead of a generic, “What can we do to keep your business,” you were greeted with Ghost’s voice instead.

“It’s me.  I’m just sorry that things ended the way they did.”

Why was he apologizing?  You’re the one who'd made a fool of yourself.  Pushing him for things he couldn’t give you.  As if you were more than just a transaction to him.

“I’d like to take you out for a drink.  There’s someone I’d like you to meet.  He can do more for you than I can.  I think you’ll like him.  I wouldn’t trust my best girl with just anyone.”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at that, even as it curled your toes.  He probably said that to all his Subs.

“Call me back.  Please?  His name’s John.”

dbf!price who buys you pretty little skirts, knowing how much you love them, just so you can wear them at family dinners that he’s invited to.

dbf!price who rubs at your clit under the table, gently pinching your thighs because you’ve gotten so good at controlling your reactions and he enjoys seeing you jump a little

dbf!price who likes flustering you, asking if you have a boyfriend. his eyes blazing with amusement as you stutter out a ‘no’.

his finger sinking into you in a slow, shallow thrust. and right before you’re about to cum, his finger leaves your wet cunt :(((

dbf!price who after dinner offers to drive you to a friends house, knowing the two of you are going to end up fucking in his car.

stuffing you full of his cock as he tells you how naughty you are. and how good girls don’t fuck men twice their age :(((

dbf!price who laughs at how wet you are, spanking you softly as you writhe against him.

“what would your parents say if they saw you like this, hm?”

dbf!price who uses the excuse that your dads always out of town to check up on you. fucking you in every flat surface of your home and when he comes over he likes to remind you how many times he made you cum there.

i need him :((

f!reader x Price

If your pretty little ass, once again brought itself over to his office by your cute stomping feetsies, reminding him to take a break because "John please, you haven't eaten anything.."

He would push everything off his desk, sit said pretty little ass on it before tearing your panties off and feast on your pussy.

"You told me to eat, didn't you love? Just following your orders.."

CAPTAIN PRICE 🤚 IN MODERN WARFARE III