seen from China
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seen from Türkiye
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seen from Türkiye
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seen from Türkiye
a man who gets rougher the second you whimper, like that sound unlocked something he was holding back.
simon's wife who is known as a complete angel by those who know her.
the first time simon introduces you to the taskgroup— years long after he married you. married for already so long that you've already given simon one or two babies, with one even on the way, evident in the bump of your belly— price immediately pats simon's back like a father would do to a son when catching a big fish. "atta boy, simon," price would say, a flush rising to your cheeks at the not so subtle glance to your bump.
johnny couldnt help but eye you with a twinkle in his eyes— he would never think of betraying simon like that— but he couldnt help but the tender squeeze he gives to your palm in the handshake between the two of you, never breaking the intense eye contact unless to linger on the swell of your breasts. a bonnie, he calls you in front of everyone, and simon only smirks like he knows what he's done.
he got you. the perfect woman, radiant and kind, beautiful and down to earth. so intelligent in your ways that gaz even himself is intrigued by your quick wit and remarks in response to his own sarcasm.
you're so different from simon. not just by the image that youre more obviously put together, dont have as many screws loose as that brute. youre soft and shorter, soft pink and white cardigans. feminine. you look like you couldn't hurt a fly. innocent, unscarred, delicate.
so it comes to a surprise when simon sends the groupchat a video of you a good couple months later, of you clear on your stomach as his fat cock pummels into your shiny and glittery cunt, dripping with your squirt and his semen. they can't believe their ears when they hear your whorish moans, pathetic and desperate mewls, and cries— the sight of simon's lack of mercy on your smaller cunt— begging for simon to breed you again.
—cod masterlist.
John "6 ft on tinder" Mactavish who has always gotten the short end of the stick from the rest of the 141 for being 5'11". who has seen and heard beautiful women excuse all kinds of behavior just because they have to look up at Ghost or Price. who has had Gaz pat his shoulder one too many times and tell the bird he's chatting up, "man's lying about his height." and who is frankly, fucking tired of it. watching with barely disguised malice as Gaz (who is barely over 6'!! the nerve of that man!!) hits on you at the bar, strikes out. and is immediately replaced by Price, then Ghost, each man taller than the last. each one gauranteed the lay if only because of his height, sulking back to their seat after less than a minutes conversation with you.
"the height not workin' out fer ya, ya deciduous bastards?" Soap grumbles.
"bird doesnt date horses," Ghost grunts.
"they what?" Soap's mouth twitches.
"don't date horses," Price grumbles, his lighter sparking pathetically as he tries to light his cigar.
"and that means?"
"Anyone over 6 foot," Gaz slumps, tipping the last dregs of his pint back and forth in the glass.
Soap nearly vaults the table, scrambling to spin you from the bar and announce,
"Ahm 5' 11"!"
you bite your lip hard against your grin, its the sweetest thing he's ever seen.
"could wear tall heels around me and ah won't complain," he jabs a thumb over his shoulder, "the horses have me well trained lookin' up."
"how about from your knees?" you laugh, reaching to hook a finger in his belt loops.
he drops before you even get the chance.
“You’re totally faking it by the way.”
You look up, already annoyed because it’s Johnny soap mactavish, your roommates best friend that you find to be more of a pest than anything else.
“Excuse me? Why are you even here? Kyle’s out.”
He ignores the latter question. “That guy last night? Fakest moans I’ve heard in a long time.”
You throw your pillow at him “piss off.”
He chuckles, grabbing the pillow from you, “maybe you wouldn’t be so uptight if you just got a good lay in ya.”
Which is how you end up sprawled on your bed with two of soaps fingers sunken into your pussy. “T-this is only happening once by the way.”
He rolls his eyes, curling his fingers upwards at a nasty angle that causes your hips to buck. “Dinnae worry, Princess. I got the message the last four times ya said it.”
His fingers are thick and his palm is calloused as it slams against your clit with each pump of his fingers. You grit your teeth, refusing to believe that Johnny might be right and he in fact might be the best lay you’ll ever have.
“Tell me, doll. What was it like? Did’ya ride his face since he can’t eat ya out properly or is he not enough for a pillow princess like you?”
The scowl on your face tells him you have some choice words as a response but he quickly cuts you off. “Oh please, we all know you’re definitely a pillow princess.”
He leans down, blowing against your tender clit before suckling at it lightly. Your legs tremble, threatening to close but a gentle spank followed by a large palm pressing against your thigh keeps you open.
The build up comes quicker than you’d like to admit. Your shallow breathes don’t do anything to hide the fact that you’re about to cum.
oh god- you’re cumming…cumming, cum-
You gasp at the sudden removal of his presence. You look up in shock, finding a smug Johnny between your legs. By the look on his face, he knows exactly what he’s doing. Fuck him.
“Beg for me, doll. Tell me you’re sorry for being such a brat all the time.”
You refuse. You might be teetering the edge of an orgasm but you still have your pride.
However, your refusal doesn’t put him off, instead he inches closer, fingers playing with your folds as if they were pages of a book. “It would be no fun if you were compliant anyways.”
You learn Johnny is a stubborn man- ruining orgasm after orgasm. He brings you to your high quickly, reckless demeanor contrasting with his precise movements.
Even when your pussy is squeezing his cock like it doesn’t want to let go, he finds the will to pull out and leave you shamefully pulsing around nothing.
He does this over and over and over- until you’re a sobbing mess. His name sounds so nice on your tongue followed by a broken “please” or “I’m sorry.”
But one isn’t enough. You’ve been a bitch to Johnny in the past, as he had been to you (but Johnny ignores this fact), and he plans on getting his fill all in one night.
Maybe if he can get you to admit he’s the best you’ve ever had, he’ll let you cum in the morning.
You'd been sitting in the common room, curled up on a loveseat. You weren't even wearing anything sexy.
Soap just grabbed you by the waist, tugged your pants and panties down, and slid into you.
"Christ, she's so fuckin' tight." Soap groans, hips rutting into your pussy roughly.
"You're gonna stain your dress blues, Johnny." Ghost rumbles from an armchair a few feet away.
"That sloppy pussy's gonna make us all late, lads." Price laughs, lazily jerking his cock. "We're supposed to be at the gala in less than twenty minutes."
"Hurry up, Soap!" Gaz complains. "I want a turn with her before we have to go!"
"She has other holes!" Soap grunts, his hips harshly slamming into you.
"Easy, boys. There's more than enough of that pussy to go around." Ghost laughs. His hand comes to pet your cheek, his thumb parting your lips.
High-pitched, squeaky moans are forced out of you with each harsh thrust. You clench around Soap hard enough for him to curse, his hips stuttering.
Gaz practically body slams Soap out of the way to get to you, or more adequately, your sloppy, dribbling pussy. "Shh, easy, honey. It's just me."
Gaz's thrusts are deep and harsh, making you repeatedly sob and cry out his name. Your whole word narrows down to Gaz and his cock. Nothing else really registers to you.
You sob at the loss when Gaz pulls out of your spent, swollen pussy. You whine, confused when no one moves to replace him.
"Sorry, slut. We've gotta go." Ghost sneers, patting your cheek condescendingly.
Price smiles at you, "I'll fuck ya when we get back. Keep that cunt nice an' loose for me."
Soap's mouth went dry the moment he saw you smiling, flushed and giggling with your husband Ghost, stunned at seeing such a beautiful woman up close, he had to blink and nudge Gaz, whose jaw practically hit the floor.
Price blinked, directly caught off guard the moment he saw Ghost give you a small, gentle smile which made you flutter and tuck away shyly.
Soap just couldn't help it, he smiled, all charming and nudged Ghost.
"Is your wife single?"
He teased, wiggling his eyebrows, the last thing he saw was your face turning concerned and Ghost's fist suddenly very close to his face.
...
"Huh?!, where am I?"
Soap sat up, wincing on the hospital bed, checking his surroundings stunned and not feeling a side of his face.
''the hospital mate'' Roach spoke amused.
Gaz was stifling a laugh, Price sighed, done with living and Ghost was on the corner like a scolded child while you looked over to Soap with a gentle, concerned expression.
"You walked into that one y'know?"
"Gaz shut up"
Which made Gaz directly burst in laughter, Price put a hand on his face, clearly done with this team and their amusing shit that always took a soft giggle out of you.
"Roach would agree with me"
Ghost grumbled on his side while you turned to look at him with a fake mad expression
"Hush!, eyes on the wall"
"touché"
ghost was plain nasty with his bird.
groping your thighs just beneath the cut of your lawlessly short skirt. begging you to wear those lower dip tops he splurged on, always with the notion youd be able to show off the best of the purple bruises around your chest.
feeling you up for the entire bar to see, sultry brown irises darkening a shade as he hears your breathing shift. it was nice he invited the rest of the team for a little more. least he couldve done, who would he be to send them home with aching tension?
yanking you by the scalp and pushing the middle of your back into the nastiest arch they had ever seen. moving to grip your jaw, holding it open as saliva ran down your chin and eyes rolled into the high sky.
licking up your maw, other paw circling your clit as each drive home made your throat a little scratchier. burn more vivid.
kyle gripped himself, legs twitching from self overstimulation. johnny grunting into your panties he snagged when ghost tossed them. price gripping your dresser with blunt nails, sweat slick and creating equally as wet noises as that around him.
touching was for simon alone. but looking? he could share a little.
living with john price means finding randoms in your house. well, not entirely randoms. just some of my mates, john reassures. no need to worry.
it means finding johnny passed out drunk on your couch, finding simon rummaging through your fridge, finding kyle cooking something, and finding nikolai smoking outside.
at a certain point, it becomes a norm. waking up from a nap to find simon sitting next to you. greeting johnny in the kitchen as he eats leftovers. laughing with kyle as you watch some youtube video. sharing stories with nikolai. it's normal for them to crash a few nights before kissing you on your head and waving to john.
maybe living with john and his friends isn't so bad after all.
