Corvid

COD FANFIC WRITER Nikolai Dealer

[cscorvid]

Corvid's Request are Open!!

Hi im Corvid, he/they pronouns. And im an ex-burned out fanfic writer. However, recently have started trying to write more. So i am opening my request for drabbles!

I mainly write smut, but open to fluff, platonic, angst, AUs, omegaverse and dead dove.

Who i will write:

Nikolai, Price, Ghost, Soap, Gaz, Graves, König, and Keegan.

You can request other COD characters, but the ones above are the ones i have written the most.

Hard No's:

Bimbos, innocent reader, Reader or Character under 21, sissification (nothing against the kink. I love it but I'm horrible at writing it), incest, scat, snuff, vore. (I will update this list as needed)

Please note, i may reject or ignore a request i do not feel comfortable writing.

[nikolais-baby-daddy]

Don't think about the fact that being with Nik guarantees him using his tools as makeshift dildos when you're in the hanger. They're still coated in grease and oil from whatever he was doing before you came to bother him. Like how he was working on the rotors when you came to watch him, at first, you just sat there asking questions. Which Nik never minded answering your questions about his work. He likes it when you take an interest in his interests. He even helped you climb up to get a better look. But something about seeing those grease-stained callused hands working, and seeing his muscles flex under the white shirt he wore. Well, you couldn't help but get a bit handsy with him. He was just too hot not to. Which is how you lie on the top of his bird, hands bound together with electrical tape, pliers attached to your nipples, while Nikolai watches your juices coat the torque wrench, seeing the grease staining your inner thighs. "Look at you. So desperate for me. Even being a filthy slut for metal." Nikolai cooed as he picked up the pace. The words only served to make your gummy walls flutter around the metal, violating you. Stars in your vision, as he rammed it into your sweet spot over and over again without relenting. Your legs shook as your orgasm overtook you. You almost missed the way, Nikolai pulled his leaking cock out and painted your thighs white before he took a picture of your debauched and used body.

[nikolais-baby-daddy]

https://x.com/MrT_Renard/status/1966814637887815722?s=20

icky dad nik messily fingerfucking and spitting all over his sweet girls cunt as a reward for literally anything ever🙂‍↕️ him tasting her and sucking on her clit as an extra treat bc he can't resist her juices😩😩😩

100% Nikolai is an eater/muncher. No matter if his partner is male or female. Man is pleasure dom coded fr fr.

"You like that, malyshka?" Nikolai's voice was a low, gravelly purr, thick with a possessive hunger that made your stomach clench. His fingers, thick and calloused, plunged back into the slick heat of your cunt, curling just right against that spongy spot that made your vision blur. He held them there, a deep, invasive pressure, before slowly dragging them out. They came out gleaming, strings of your arousal clinging to his skin and connecting him to you. He grunted in satisfaction, bringing them close to his face to inhale your scent before spitting a thick, warm glob right onto your quivering inner thigh. You watched, breathless, as the milky saliva traced a slow, sticky path down, merging with the mess already leaking from you. "Such a messy little pussy. All for Papa."

"Yes..Ah-yes Papa.." The words were a desperate, broken mewl, torn from your throat as his fingers shoved back in, the obscene wet sound echoing in the quiet room. The coolness of his spit mixing with your own heat was a shocking, delicious jolt that made you arch your back. Your fingers twisted desperately in the sheets, trying to find purchase against the tidal wave of pleasure. He just smirked, a predatory flash of white teeth, and leaned down to sink his teeth into the soft flesh of your hip. It wasn't a gentle bite; it was a claiming, a sharp sting that melted into a throbbing ache, perfectly timed with the way he started pistoning his fingers faster, harder.

"Look at that," he grunted, his gaze fixed on where his hand disappeared into you. "So fucking greedy. Sucking my fingers right in." His thumb found your clit, not rubbing, but pressing down hard and grinding in tight, filthy circles. The pressure was immense, a direct line to your core. "You've been such a good girl for Papa this week. So obedient. You deserve a reward, don't you? A nasty, sticky reward just for my sweet girl."

"Pa..Pa..papa..." It was all you could manage, a chant, a prayer as the coil in your belly snapped. Your orgasm ripped through you, violent and overwhelming. Your walls clamped down on his fingers, fluttering and milking him as waves of bliss crashed over you. Nikolai didn't stop; he just eased the pressure, his fingers still massaging that sensitive spot, drawing out every single spasm until you were a boneless, whimpering mess beneath him. Only then did he pull his fingers out, soaked and dripping.

He brought them to your lips, not asking, but demanding. "Open up. Taste what a good girl you are." As your lips parted to accept his slick-coated fingers, he ducked his head down, latching onto one of your nipples with a hot, wet mouth. He sucked hard, his tongue swirling around the pebbled flesh before his teeth grazed it, sending sharp sparks of pain-pleasure straight to your still-throbbing clit. He pulled away with a wet pop, leaving the nipple glistening and reddened.

Before you could fully recover, his fingers were back at your entrance, sliding into your swollen, oversensitive pussy with zero resistance. He'd given you just enough of a reprieve for the sensitivity to sharpen, to make every drag of his knuckles against your walls feel both like heaven and a sweet torment. This time he wasn't slow. He was fucking you with his hand, a brutal, steady rhythm that had the bedframe creaking in protest. His mouth descended, not with a kiss, but with a purpose. He sealed his lips over your clit and sucked.

A choked gasp escaped you as your hands flew to his hair, tangling in the thick strands and holding on for dear life. The encouragement was all he needed. His fingers worked faster, curling and scissoring inside you, hitting that spot over and over while his tongue waged war on your clit. He licked it with broad, flat strokes, then pointed his tongue to stab at it, before wrapping his lips around it again to suck it into his mouth, flicking the tip relentlessly. Every so often, he'd nip at the sensitive bundle of nerves with his teeth, just enough to make you cry out and buck your hips up, grinding your cunt against his face.

He was feasting. You could hear the wet, sloppy sounds of his mouth and fingers working in concert, the lewd music of your pleasure. He was moaning against you, deep vibrations that traveled through your entire body. "That's it, malyshka," he growled, his voice muffled by your flesh. "Fuck my face. Give Papa another one. I can feel you getting tighter. So close. Come on. Flood my mouth."

Your body obeyed without question. The second orgasm was a tidal wave, a blinding, all-consuming rush that stole the air from your lungs. Your thighs clamped around his head, a vice grip of pure ecstasy as you came, and came hard. Nikolai groaned, a sound of pure, unadulterated victory, as his mouth was flooded with your release. He didn't miss a drop, his tongue lapping and sucking greedily, determined to swallow every last bit of your reward. He kept licking even after the tremors subsided, his tongue cleaning you with possessive, almost reverent strokes, until you were twitching from the overstimulation.

Only when your thighs fell limply away from his head did he release you. He pushed himself up, his face a glistening, debauched mess of your juices and his own spit. A proud, feral grin was on his lips as he loomed over you. He crashed his mouth down on yours, a wet, filthy kiss. His tongue, still tasting of you, shoved past your lips, claiming your mouth in a deep, possessive kiss that was all about sharing your flavor. He was making you taste yourself on him, marking you from the inside out.

When he finally pulled back, a string of spit connecting your mouths, he rested his forehead against yours. "My perfect, sweet girl," he whispered, his voice rough and hoarse. "Always so good for Papa. Always so fucking delicious."

[cscorvid]

[rawme-price]

Hi!! Im loving the mer! fics a lot recently, i keep coming back to read them. I love marine biology. But i was wondering if we could see more of mer!chars and how they interact with each other/in the pod?

Please ignore this request if it's not your forte. Have a fantastic friday!

Ooohh what about shark!141 pod and how they interact?? Plus handler!price and reader hehe

You were so excited to land this internship, having worked months for it. Working as Dr. Price's personal intern at the SAS facility, you get to learn from observation and experience about the subtle nuances of shark mers!

"These are the three permanent mers we have, the 141 pod." Price points out to you, motioning to a large pool with three sharks inside. Theres a lower section with glass so you can see into the pool without the waves obstructing view. It's where you end up spending most of your lunches, watching the mers and occasionally waving to them when they notice you.

You notice an...odd behavior, and decide to ask price about it. Definitely without stuttering because it's a normal process. "Oh, dominance mounting?" Price huffs, nodding to the tank where you had pointed out what Definitely looked like ghost fucking kyle for the fifth time. "It's something mers do to reinforce hierarchy. Usually no penetration happens, and even then no milt is released. Kind of like lions, eh?"

Which...sure. but they're doing it alot, are they not getting along? Price seems to be able to read your mind, waving a dismissive hand "oh, don't worry about them. They get like that whenever there's a new potential mate."

Mate? But, no new mers have been added. In fact, the only new thing about their environment is you...

Oh.

oh.

You can't stop the embarrassed squeak you make at the realization, ignoring the chuckle across the room from price.

The mers see you as a mate...you're not sure how to feel about this. Suddenly, the fact they always seem to mount eachother when you eat your lunch by their window makes alot of sense.

"Oh, don't worry, kid. They were the same way with me." Price pats your shoulder with a laugh, before dragging you to the kitchens "now c'mon, it's feeding time."

[rawme-price]

Kyle is oddly obsessed with checking your gear.

Everytime you sit next to him on the heli, he insists on checking all your straps and safety harness. Technically, it's not just you, whoever ends up next to kyle is getting checked, but for some reason you always end up next to him.

You guess it's a soothing thing, probably to ease his flight anxiety considering he only does it for heli trips. The one times you stopped him, kyle kept looking anxiously between the doors and his own straps, and you could feel ghosts glare burning into the side of your head.

So...you let him have his fun. It's not all that bad, sometimes it's even nice having someone else check all your safety harnesses, you just wish kyle was a bit more aware of his hand placement while he worked.

It's hard enough keeping your composure when the hot guy in your team is pulling you around, it's so much worse when he checks your pelvis straps and his knuckles keep pressing against your crotch. Every press has you carefully breathing and willing yourself not to get too excited, Kyle's just worried after all.

Now you're left constantly fantasizing about your attractive coworker, jerking off in your barracks only to pretend you're totally unaffected when you see him again.

...The look price gives you after one such ride tell you you're not as subtle as you think.

[nikolais-baby-daddy]

"Eyes on the mirror, pup." Nikolai's hips roll, a deliberate, slow grind that finds that perfect place deep inside you, making your toes curl. He gives the leash a gentle tug, a firm reminder, and your head tilts back against his shoulder.

Your gaze is forced to meet your own reflection. It's a devastating picture. Drool escapes the corners of the ball gag, smeared on your chin and the leather of the muzzle. The black collar is stark against your skin, the silver tag glinting, catching the light as you pant. Papa's Pup. The claim is undeniable. You're caged beneath him, his larger body blanketing yours, the bed rocking with every measured thrust. His face is buried in the crook of your neck, and you can feel the sharp, pleasant sting as he sucks another dark mark into your skin, branding you as his.

A desperate whine builds in your chest, muffled by the gag. Your body clenches around him instinctively, a silent plea for more, harder, faster. Nik chuckles, a deep, rumbling sound of pure satisfaction. "See, pup?" he purrs, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear. "You look so good. Do you like seeing yourself get fucked? Like watching my cock disappear inside you, while you drool and cry for me?" His words are filthy, a stark contrast to the worshipful way his hands trace your sides. He wants you to see it, all of it. How wrecked you are. How completely you belong to him in this moment. And as you stare at your own debauched reflection, at the man using your body so perfectly, a fresh wave of tears leaks from the corners of your eyes. He's right. You do like it.

[nikolais-baby-daddy]

Simon spotted you the moment you walked in, too bright for a place like this, too soft, too eager to be seen. He sat half-shrouded in the bar’s dim amber glow, cigarette smoke curling lazily around him like a veil, and watched you smile up at that older man trying his luck. Sweet little thing. All nerves and manners. The kind of innocence that begged to be touched, tested, and ruined properly.

He saw the tell, your fingers brushing the hem of your skirt, that bashful little twist you did when someone’s attention made you flutter. Christ. You didn’t even notice you did it. A dove pretending to know the world. A dove he’d already marked as his.

The man leaned closer. You shifted your weight, eyes darting across the room as if searching for an escape. That was all Simon needed.

He stood, moving through the crowd with heavy, deliberate steps. A phantom brushes too close. His shoulder caught yours, not hard, just enough to jolt you, enough for you to feel the heat of him. He didn’t look back. Didn’t apologize. Didn’t even acknowledge you.

That was what did it.

He sat in the corner like he owned it, legs spread, arm slung over the back of the chair. Settled. Patient. A wolf pretending to nap. He didn’t stare, not outright. He didn’t need to. He could feel your gaze cling to him, confused at first, then curious… then caught.

When you finally let yourself look, really look, your breath hitched. The mask of dim light couldn’t hide the breadth of him, the age carved into his features, the scars that said he’d seen far worse and done far worse. And the brief weight of his gaze when it slid over you?

It burned.

Simon lifted his glass in a barely-there salute, the ghost of a smirk cutting through his beard.

There you go, dove. Good.

You moved toward him before you’d even decided to. He knew you would. That soft, uncertain step on the floorboards was as good as a confession.

By the time you reached his table, he was already leaning back, thighs parted just enough to wordlessly invite. To claim.

“Easy now,” he murmured, voice low, gravel dragged through honey. “Didn’t say you could sit, did I?”

Your pulse fluttered. He smiled.

Before the night was over, he had you exactly where he’d wanted you from the start, straddled across his lap in the backseat of his truck, then pinned beneath him in his bed, your breath catching on every thrust as he filled you, coaxed you, praised you, ruined you.

And every time you whimpered for him, every time you clenched around him like you were made for him.

“Good dove,” he growled against your throat. “Knew you’d come to me. Knew you’d take every drop.”

And you did. Again and again, until he decided you’d had enough.

Simon shook the memory from his mind with a smile on his face, as he stirred a stew on his stove. Grabbing the spoon from the counter and fishing out a piece of meat. Carefully, blowing at the steam that rose off the bite, before he slid it into his mouth with a groan. "Still taste so good, dove."

[cscorvid]

Price knew you were upset, knew it, saw it, and still couldn’t resist pressing every button you had. He loved the way your hackles rose for him. Loved the flash of your teeth, the bite in your voice. A little jab from him and that fire always lit up your eyes.

He clicked his tongue. “That’s not how a mutt’s supposed to talk to their owner.”

“You did no—”

Your protest cut off in a sharp inhale as his hand closed around your throat. Firm. Claiming. He hauled you in until your noses brushed, his fingers squeezing just enough to steal the rest of your breath and your argument with it.

“Mutts don’t talk,” he murmured, voice dropping to something dark and pleased. “They listen.”

Your glare wavered, breaking into a shivery whine you didn’t consent to making. Heat rolled through your stomach, your body softening against his grip. Price’s smirk deepened, like he’d been waiting for that exact crumble.

“Look at you,” he crooned in your ear, squeezing a fraction harder until your pulse fluttered. “Gettin’ filthy from a little touch. That what you need, mutt? Need to be filthy for sir?”

Your knees hit the floor before you fully realized he’d pushed you down, his strength effortless, inevitable. The tip of his boot pressed between your legs, grinding against your clothed sex as he angled your face up toward him.

“Go on,” he ordered.

Your hands shook as you freed his cock, and Price didn’t give you time to think before guiding himself onto your tongue. Your muffled whine vibrated along his length, your hips already rocking helplessly against the pressure of his boot.

“There we go,” he hummed, settling one leg over your shoulder to cage you in place, commanding and immovable. “Sir’ll take care of you. Keep you right here ’til that attitude of yours is fixed.”

Your throat worked around him, your body straining for every scrap of friction he gave you. And Price just watched, satisfied, as his mutt obeyed exactly the way he liked.

[nikolais-baby-daddy]

🌽link

Nikolai loved to play your pussy, he was obessed with it. He was worst than a mutt with a bone, not that you minded. You could be watching a movie and his fingers are stuffed inside of you. Making dinner? He's standing behind you at the stove hard cock grinding against your back while his fingers are rubbing your sweet spot.

Even now, he had just gotten home from a mission. And an injury was preventing him from strenuous activity. Good thing you didn't mind laying on his hairy chest, as stuffed his fingers into your cunt. His mouth on yours in slow, draw out kisses. Your soft moans against his lips.

He loved how you squirmed when he pulled his fingers out to rub at your clit. How your leg twitched against him before he stuffed his fingers back into your cunt, curling into that sweet spot. Even went he felt them start to flutter, before he felt the warm juices coating his fingers.

He gave you just a moment to catch your breathing, before he pulled you back into a kiss as his fingers started stroking your pulsating walls.

[nikolais-baby-daddy]

Hi!

If you have the time could you do monster Nik x fem reader?

My first nonny <33 and of course i can!

Werebear! Nikolai had been watching you who sneaked off into the forest. You, who liked to take berries off the bushes and sit at the pond for a few hours. Sometimes bringing a book, he'd seen a journal, possibly a sketchbook. Whatever it was, he watched from the brush.

Werebear! Nikolai who made the mistake of getting to close one day, and watched as you scurried out of the woods after catching a glimpse of him. Even after a dreadful night, he went back the day to see you standing there. And you seemed to he looking for him this time.

Werebear! Nikolai who got dizzy listening to your sweet worded apology about running off. When yoy finally left for the day, he had to stop for a quick wank to sooth the ache in his cock.

Werebear! Nikolai who takes his time building a relationship with you, who acts to be the perfect gentleman, all while fisting his cock after each encounter afterwards. Who stole your hair ribbon one afternoon and afterwards wrapped it around his cock.

Werebear! Nikolai who finally gets you to come back into his den. Who cooks dinner until you were fully and sleepy. Who waited until you fell asleep before carefully moving you to the deepest part of his den.

Werebear! Nikolai who slide your panties off when he saw your eyes flutter open. Who depite your protest ran fingers inbetween your folds, circling your clit ever so gently until your letting your moans fall free from your lips and your body relaxes under his touch.

Werebear! Nikolai who waited until you were dripping and incoherent with pleasure before pushing his cock into you. Shushing you gentle as the tears formed as he split you open. Bigger than any human male.

Werebear! Nikolai who fucked you so harsh and rough, you were cock drunk before he buried his seed. Who keeps fucking you until he's shoot blanks. Who falls asleep on top of you keeping your pussy plugged.

Werebear! Nikolai who takes care of you in the morning. Who carries you to the small unground stream to clean you up. Who then feeds you until your full. Who makes sure all your needs are met before fucking you all night once more.

[nikolais-baby-daddy]

Waking up to Nikolai was always a gift you felt in your bones, his warmth, his weight, the way he touched you like he owned every inch of your body. Whether it was his fingers, his mouth, or his cock buried deep inside you, mornings with him were a promise of being ruined before breakfast.

Today was no different.

Your eyes fluttered open to the thin morning sunlight spilling across the sheets, the slow creak of the mattress, and Nikolai’s quiet, hungry groan right against your ear. His chest was pressed against your back, solid and warm, his breath brushing your skin as he rolled his hips forward in lazy, possessive strokes. He was already inside you, deep, stretching you open, filling you in that way only he could.

He wasn’t fucking you yet. Not really. He was savoring you. Grinding into that sensitive spot with slow, measured thrusts that made your toes curl under the blankets.

“Feel so good, zolotse,” he murmured, his voice thick with sleep and desire. His lips brushed the shell of your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. “Always so warm for me… always take me so well.”

His hand slid over your waist, fingertips drawing idle patterns over your stomach, before dipping lower, holding you in place as he pushed just a little deeper, his breath stuttering when he felt you pulse around him.

“Can’t ever get enough of you,” he whispered, nuzzling into your neck like he needed the closeness as much as the pleasure. “Mmmh… my perfect little wife.”

His shallow thrusts grew just slightly firmer, just enough to make the bed shift and your breath stutter, but still slow, unhurried, intimate, claiming.

“Mornings should always start like this,” he murmured, kissing the back of your shoulder. “You underneath me… filled with me… waking up to my cock inside you.”

His fingers tightened along your hip.

“Let me have you a little more, da?”

[nikolais-baby-daddy]

They always told you never to step foot in the woods. Whispered of creatures older than the town itself, shadows that screamed, eyes that watched, spirits that stole breath from sleeping lips.

But when the raiders came, torches blazing and steel flashing, the forbidden woods were the only place left to run. You ran until your legs gave out, until your lungs burned like fire and your vision went dark.

When you woke, it was to warmth.

Soft furs wrapped around you, a fire crackling steadily nearby, the scent of pine and smoke thick in the air. The cabin around you was rough-hewn but sturdy, lit only by firelight.

And in the corner stood a man. Or something like a man.

Thick black and deep brown fur curled along his arms and chest. Broad shoulders, enormous hands tipped with claws, and round bear-like ears perched atop his head. His silhouette was massive, blocking half the lantern light.

He turned slightly as he heard you stir.

“You’re awake,” he rumbled, voice low and gravel-thick with a Russian accent that vibrated straight through you. “You passed out at the border of my territory.”

You pushed yourself upright, head still swimming. “W-who are you?”

He stepped into the firelight then, and your breath hitched. His eyes, warm gold, unsettlingly intelligent, swept over you, lingering just long enough to make your pulse spike.

“Knew you were close long before you crossed the treeline,” he said. “Could smell you. Sweet. Untouched. Frightened.” A dangerous, amused glint warmed his features. “Humans call it ‘virgin,’ da?”

Your body went rigid. “You… could smell that?”

A smile tugged at one corner of his mouth. Not cruel, just knowing.

“I am werebear. It is easy for me to know who would make a good mate.” His head tilted. “And you… smell like future. Like fate.”

He took a slow step closer, then another, each heavier than the last, the floorboards creaking under his weight.

“I am Nikolai,” he continued softly. “I brought you here so you would not die. And because instincts… say you could be mine.”

Your breath stalled. “Yours?”

“Only if you choose.” His voice dropped, deep, intimate. “I am not monster who takes what is not offered. I wait. I court.” His warm, furred hand lifted to brush your cheek, rough, but surprisingly gentle. “But I warn you, milaya… once you accept me, I am very difficult to be rid of.”

Despite the tremor in your limbs, you found yourself leaning into that touch, heat blooming under your skin, a strange safety curling in your stomach.

His thumb stroked your cheekbone, almost reverent.

“There,” he murmured, pleased. “See? Trust comes naturally.” His gaze flicked to your lips and back to your eyes. “I will not touch you further until you ask. But when you do…” His voice dropped to a possessive growl. “I will make certain my mate is never left wanting.”

The fire popped, sparks leaping, and for the first time, you wondered if the woods hadn’t cursed you at all, but delivered you into the arms of something far more dangerous. And far more tempting.

[cscorvid]

CW: Smut John Price x AMAB! Reader

A sharp buzz from his phone cut through the briefing room, and before anyone could blink, Price was up and out of his chair. No explanation, no salute, not even his usual growled apology. He just walked out.

The generals and officers exchanged anxious glances. Had someone offended the infamous Captain Price? Had they crossed a line? The room hummed with quiet confusion until, slowly, the meeting lurched back into motion.

What had really happened was simple: a text. A picture. One single photo from his husband.

Fresh out of bed, hair a chaotic mess, wearing Price’s shirt so loosely it hung off one shoulder, wasn’t meant to be sexy. But it hit him like a punch to the gut anyway, heat surging straight downward and every coherent thought scattering like dust in the wind.

Ghost caught him in the hallway, mid-stride.

“Hey, Pri—”

“Not now, Riley. Personal emergency. Keep MacTavish and Garrick from burning the damn place down.” Price barked without slowing, already halfway out the door.

He didn’t so much drive home as teleport. Windows down, cold autumn air blasting in to keep him from palming himself like a desperate teenager. His pulse thundered the whole way. By the time he pulled into the driveway, he was half feral with need.

Inside, he found you exactly as you’d been in the photo, sleep-warm, hair still mussed, holding a mug of coffee like it was the only thing keeping you upright.

“John—” you began, voice scratchy with sleep.

“I love you,” he interrupted, closing the distance in three long strides, “but right now I need you in ways that’d make a sailor blush.”

His mouth crashed onto yours before you could reply. Your coffee cup clinked softly against the counter as you blindly set it aside, your body already leaning into him, trusting him, melting for him. His hands, rough, warm, shaking just a little, slid under your borrowed shirt, fingers spreading wide like he couldn’t get enough, like he needed to feel every inch of you at once.

The desperation in him was palpable, devouring, grateful. And the second you kissed him back, just as hungry, he made a sound deep in his throat, one that told you exactly how much he needed this.

“Get it off,” Price murmured against your lips, voice rough and already shaking with need. He only pulled back far enough to tug his shirt over your head before lifting you effortlessly onto the kitchen counter. His hips rolled forward immediately, the grind of him against you deep and hungry, dragging another kiss from you before you could even catch a breath.

You whined when he adjusted the angle, pressing directly against the growing hardness in your boxers. The sound was embarrassingly needy, high in your throat, and it made Price groan like he’d been waiting all morning to hear it. His hand slipped under the waistband before you could form a single coherent thought, fingers wrapping firmly around your cock, stroking you in a steady, practiced rhythm.

You could feel it, how wound-up he was. How desperate.

“John—” you tried, but your voice cracked into a gasp as he jerked you just a little harder.

You barely had a chance to breathe before he pulled his mouth from yours. The loss of the kiss lasted a single heartbeat…but your vision went white the instant his lips wrapped around the flushed tip of your cock as he pushed your boxers down enough to free you.

Your head hit the cabinet behind you. Eyes rolled back. The world vanished into heat and pressure and Price’s mouth moving like he’d been starving for you.

You didn’t last. You never lasted in the morning, not when he touched you, not when he sounded like this was the only thing he’d wanted all day.

Your orgasm tore through you fast and hard, hips jerking despite your best effort to stay still. Price held you steady, throat working as he swallowed everything you gave him. When he finally pulled back, a low, satisfied growl rumbled from his chest.

“Easy,” he muttered, almost fond, though his eyes were dark with something far from gentle.

He didn’t stop. Didn’t give you time to come down.

Your boxers hit the floor. His belt followed. He shoved his pants down just enough to free his cock, thick and already leaking. He spat into his hand, slicking his fingers before sliding them between your legs. The first touch made you jolt, overstimulated and already sensitive from your release.

“I’ve got you,” he promised, voice low, soothing in a way that contradicted how badly his hands were trembling. One finger pressed in, then another, opening you carefully but quickly, because patience wasn’t something he had right now, not with you looking like sin moaning for him.

When you were loose enough, he lined himself up, grip tightening on your hips.

“Love,” he breathed, chest heaving, “I need to be inside you.”

And he pushed in, slow at first, thick stretch making your breath hitch, then deeper, inch by inch, until he was fully seated inside you, leaning his forehead against your shoulder as he groaned at the feeling of you around him.

Price stayed there for a moment, buried to the hilt, breath hot against your neck. His hands framed your hips, fingers digging in like he was grounding himself, like he’d been holding himself together all morning and finally let go the second he got home.

“Fuck… you’re perfect,” he rasped, voice shuddering as he pulled back just an inch before pushing in again, testing how ready you were for him. “So warm...god, love, I needed this.”

Your legs tightened instinctively around his waist, dragging him closer. The movement made him groan, deep and sharp, and his restraint snapped like a frayed rope.

He pulled out nearly halfway and pushed back in with a slow, grinding thrust that stole the breath from your lungs. His hips set into a rhythm, not rushed, not gentle either, but hungry. Purposeful. Like every stroke was meant to remind you who you belonged to.

Your hands scrambled for him, gripping at the back of his neck, his shoulders, anything you could hold as he fucked into you with growing urgency.

“John,” you gasped, head tipping back.

The sound of his name, raw, pleading, made him thrust harder, his pace sharpening.

“That’s it,” he growled against your throat, kissing, biting lightly, breathing you in between every word. “Say my name like that.”

You could only moan in answer, body rocking with every movement. The kitchen counter shook beneath you, small clinks of dishes rattling somewhere behind you, not that either of you cared.

Price dragged his mouth across your jaw, kissing you again, deep, messy, consuming. His hips snapped forward harder with each roll, the slap of skin echoing off the cabinets.

His hand slid between your bodies to grip your cock again, already half-hard again from the stimulation, over-sensitive but aching for more. He stroked you in time with his thrusts, rough and sure.

“Already getting hard for me again,” he muttered against your lips, voice wrecked. “Didn’t even need a minute, did you?”

You whimpered, actually whimpered, and Price grinned against your mouth, fucking you deeper for it.

“Good,” he breathed, forehead pressed to yours. “Take it… take all of it.”

His thrusts grew faster, sharper, each one hitting so deep your breath kept catching. You could feel him losing control, feel the tension coiling in his muscles, feel the way his grip on your hip was shaking.

Your eyes fluttered open, barely, but it was enough. His pupils were blown wide, blue ringed with fire, gaze locked on you like you were the only thing in the world. Your second orgasm ripped through you before you felt Price's warm seed fill you. "I love you. I fucking love you, but fuck you make my brain crazy." Price murmured as he kissed your shoulder gently in the afterglow.

[nikolais-baby-daddy]

Two hours. That’s how long Nikolai has kept you like this, his fingers slowly going over your clit, over and over. Orgasm after orgasm denied. You had gotten into the hangar, looking around, before accidentally bumping into something you weren’t supposed to. Nikolai understood, but he couldn’t let you go unpunished, could he? On the floor of the open heli, he tied your wrist to the legs of the chairs, legs spread open, with your ankles tied to the skids. Juices were running down your legs, he watched your vulva throb, how you couldn’t even beg properly, only whimpers. He’d pull away when he saw your hips buck, only to blow a slow breath against your clit until you had settled down enough for him to tease you again with his fingers. Even as his cock stretched you open until he pressed at the way against your cervix. He wasn’t in any hurry, cock sliding all the way out, only to slowly push back in. Fingers still slowly rubbing your clit, and just as before, if he felt you getting close, he’d stop. Over and over again, even when he finally pressed the tip of his cock against your cervix, grinding his hips as his cum filled you. You finally thought he was going to let you come, but the stimulation didn’t return. Only a camera shutter and flash. “Only good girls get to cum, Da? Hope one of the other boys comes to help you.” That gravelly russian voice said, before his footsteps walked away as he sent the picture of your wet, edged, cum filled pussy to the group chat with the comment, Free use.

[cscorvid]

Hiiii! hope you have a great week 💞

could you write something about Simon unintentionally meeting his In-laws for the first time?? smut or fluff or both is up to you

Yes ofc!! Sorry been severe weather in my area, havent been able to upload.

Simon had taken a red eye flight home the moment the mission ended, sleeping in the cramped economy seat he got last minute. But it was worth, seeing your face light up as you jumped up from the couch with your morning coffee, was all he needed. When you jumped into his arms he caught you effortlessly.

Your lips connected with his as your arms wrapped tight around his neck. And it started with just morning cuddles and Simon being smothered in your kisses. Until he had you bouncing on his dick. His mouth biting and sucking at your neck, collarbone, chest. Everywhere he could reach, while his hands gripped your hips, moving you up and down.

Your whines and mewls only spurring him on, and he was already so close from fucking nothing but his fist and pillow for the past six months. The second you clenched and started to cum, Simon buried his cock in deep and exploded.

You barely had time to enjoy the afterglow before the doorbell rang.

The sound cut through the quiet like a gunshot, both your heads snapping toward the door barely thirty feet away.

You groaned, dragging yourself off Simon and scrambling for your clothes. Your shirt was half buttoned, your hair a mess, and you couldn’t even look at the state of the couch. Simon, in full panic mode, yanked his jeans back up and shoved a couch pillow over the very obvious evidence of what you’d been doing.

The doorbell rang again.

“Bloody hell…” he muttered under his breath, running a hand through his hair to make it look at least somewhat respectable.

You opened the door, and froze.

Your parents stood there. Smiling. Bags in hand.

“Sweetheart! We were in town and thought we’d surprise you!” your mother said, stepping forward for a hug.

“Oh my god–hi! Yeah, uh… surprise,” you stammered, forcing a smile and glancing nervously toward the living room.

Simon was on his feet now, trying desperately to look like a man who hadn’t just been naked two minutes ago. His ears burned red as you waved your parents in.

“Uh, Mom, Dad–this is Simon,” you said, voice a little too high-pitched. “Simon, these are my parents.”

Simon straightened up and offered a hand. “Ma’am. Sir.” His tone was polite, military-level formal, but the muscle ticking in his jaw betrayed his nerves.

Your father shook his hand, eyeing him up and down. “So you’re the one we’ve been hearing about,” he said, a hint of curiosity in his tone.

“Yes, sir,” Simon said evenly, though he could feel the flush creeping up his neck. “Pleasure to finally meet you both.”

Your mother’s smile was far too kind for the situation. “You know, you look exactly how I pictured him,” she said cheerfully, setting her bag down.

Simon wasn’t sure whether to be flattered or terrified.

“Would you like some tea?” you blurted out, a little too quickly.

“That’d be lovely,” your mom said.

As you escaped to the kitchen, Simon remained standing there like a statue, trying not to move too much, not to think about anything, especially not about what he could still feel clinging faintly to his jeans.

Your father crossed his arms, watching him. “So, Simon… what do you do for a living?”

Simon hesitated, then offered the safest answer possible. “Military, sir.”

Your dad nodded slowly. “Ah. Explains the posture.”

Simon gave a tight, awkward smile. “Yes, sir.”

From the kitchen, you called, “Simon, can you help me for a second?”

He didn’t need to be told twice. He followed you in, shutting the kitchen door behind him as you whispered, “I am never answering the door again.”

Simon huffed a quiet laugh, leaning in close enough that only you could hear: “Next time, m’love, we’re usin’ the bedroom.”

[nikolais-baby-daddy]

Simon had been searching the base for hours. Word was that Nikolai had flown in late last night, but the Russian pilot had a knack for disappearing when he wanted to.

He finally found him in the rec room, stretched out on the couch, looking far too relaxed for someone who’d just come off a mission. What stopped Simon cold, though, was the sight beside him: you, the team’s new medic, half-hidden against him. Your head was buried in Nikolai’s lap, mouth stretched open around his cock, his long legs casually crossed over your back as if to keep you there, possessive even in repose.

Your eyes were glossed over, and Simon could see the drool that had collected on your chin. But you weren't fighting the hold, so Simon didn't comment on it. His eyes only flicked away when he heard Nikolai chuckle.

"Akh, poor thing… just need Papa, da?" Nikolai’s question was only responded with a whine around his cock.

Simon suddenly felt dizzy as his cock hardened against his zipper, at the words and scene.

[rawme-price]

Younger omega!reader, a new addition to the 141 and not all that comfortable with anyone on the team hesitantly asking older beta!price for help during heat??

You, in a weird way, trust him to take care of you. He's essentially the pack leader, and has no qualms scruffing or correcting anyone who acts foolish. So you approach him with leave papers that need his signature anyways, and try not to stumble over your words when you ask "would you...join me? It's okay if not! But I tend to get a bit lost, strong heat hormones, and I don't talk to anyone outside the team..."

Which is how you end up with your nose tucked into price's neck on the second day of your heat. Slick between your legs as you ride the knotted dildo strapped to his thigh for the fifth time that morning.

"Yer doing good, pup, just two more for me?" He pushes a calming scent, palm pressed to your head to keep you right against that scent gland. He's been working you down since you woke up in the middle of the night, overwhelmed when you didn't smell a mate nearby. "Two more, then you can stop, yeah?"

He makes sure to wear you out as much as possible on the toys, feeding you when you get cuddly and fuzzy. It's...really nice. Having someone there to make sure you won't be miserable post-heat.

When you eventually get needy again, it's price flipping you chest-down in the nest, stuffing you full of cum. He might not have a knot, but he's got a nice plug to shove into you afterwards that gets your instincts purring. It's the best heat you've ever had. Especially when he groans "settle down, pup. Just take it, yeah? Let me take care of you."