i cannot believe i haven't written more for gaz yet (i have, it's just in drafts until the actual porn is done) but he should definitely be the next for hybrid!141, so here, have some wolf!gaz and bunny!reader
wolf!gaz who's the most desirable operator price has ever seen in his whole fucking military career. he's smart and stealthy, strong and intuitive, and he's got a gut deep pack instinct that makes him adaptive to any team, within the span of a day he can ingratiate himself in a group and be ready to kill or die for them
wolf!gaz who has simon's intelligence, soap's speed, and price's bravery. he's the cornerstone of the team, balancing them all out when soap's running circles around them and simon's on edge and ready to snap it's gaz who can distract soap long enough for the captain and simon to get some fucking peace. it's gaz who bridges the gaps between the two more solitary hybrids and himself and soap, who can give soap someone to curl up with, who can invoke price's parental instincts to see them as his cubs, who can worm his way into simon's affections by bringing him food he's hunted for the pack
wolf!gaz who's selfless to an absurd degree, to the degree that the rest of the team has started to feel upset by it. he hunts but never for himself, always for them. he plays but it's always soap's (or on rare occasions simon's) games, or puzzles with price. he follows orders, he serves the pack, he loves the pack. he does everything he does for them, and they love him for it, they do. but they want him to have something just for himself. to be able to be selfish with, just once
wolf!gaz who gets separated from the team on a mission and has to hide out in hostile territory. he's looking for a place to hide out until he can get to the rendezvous point, someplace to rest for the night when he stumbles upon the little hidden door, tucked almost seamlessly in an alley. he forces his way inside and finds her: a soft little bunny with her snow white ears twitching at him, dark eyes blinking slowly, nose trembling, hunkered back in the corner like she's trying to get as far from him as possible, but still looking at him like she's as fascinated as he is
wolf!gaz who, despite his self control, despite his selflessness, despite his intelligence and kindness and sweetness is still a fucking predator, and if you put a pretty little bunny in front of a wolf he's going to do what wolves were meant to do. devour. he sweet talks her out of the corner with soft yips and beckoning growls while his blood burns beneath his skin, faking a kind, easy smile to hide the fangs that itch in his jaw. he talks her in close, those wide dark eyes on him as he rubs those soft ears and tells her how cute her little tail is. he just needs a place to stay tonight, bunny, a sweet thing like you will let him, won't you? he won't be much of an imposition, he promises, pretty rabbit
wolf!gaz who gets her pinned belly down on the floor, still talking sweet in her ear as he fucks her on his cock, right up against the growing knot, teasing her with it, promising he'll give that sweet little cunt what she's crying for, just be patient, he's gotta work her open, bunny, you're really too tight for this, but good girl that you are you're gonna take it, aren't you? making him feel so fucking good, bunny, so soft and pretty all for him to get some fucking relief after the day he's had, what a perfect treat for him to find all alone in your warren. and fuck, bunny, you better be careful, cumming like that when he's got his teeth in your neck, knot finally popping inside so he can fill you with hot cum. he may just decide you're too perfect to leave behind.
he's been so selfless...maybe the others are right. maybe he should have something just for himself. like a pretty bunny who cums untouched on his knot like a good mate should.
taking a break from the sticky icky verse to talk about hybrid shifters and the 141. let’s do price first
bear!price who’s quiet and looming, and big, you can see that he’s big of course he is he’s a bear hybrid, but you don’t realize that that’s him not even standing at full height, not even standing with his tired shoulders straight and broad, and when he does, when he unfolds into his true height and breadth, he’s so fucking big
bear!price who by far prefers nature to the city, solitude to crowds, and takes every opportunity he can on leave to go camping somewhere, his favorite places are far flung and often cold, and he finally decides to pull the trigger, buys a patch of land in the middle of nowhere, builds himself a self sustaining cabin (all the necessary luxuries like hot water, old man like him needs it, and it’ll serve as a good safe house if he or the team ever need it so it’s a good investment)
bear!price who prefers to hunt his own food when he can do so, rather than just go to the supermarket or a restaurant like other hybrids nowadays, he likes the hunt, likes to be responsible for his own meals, and one day at that Alaskan cabin he’s out by the river for salmon, and when he reaches in for a fish what he hauls out is an otter, which quickly shifts in his heavy hand into a woman, soaked and shivering in the chill air, her little round ears flat to her head and thick, furry tail wrapped around her long legs
bear!price who brings her into his house, sets her in front of the roaring fire with a plateful of salmon and gently pulls her story out of her: she’s not wild, not feral, she just got lost on a hike a few days ago and as an otter hybrid she’s warmer and safer in freshwater than out in the wild…even if it means she’s floated down the river while she slept and now she doesn’t know WHERE the hell she is
bear!price who feeds her and puts her in his clothes (she lost hers in the first shift poor thing) who has to carry her around the cabin because she’s so clumsy on land, and wraps her in his blankets and can’t stop looking at her. can’t stop rubbing her soft little ears between his thumb and forefinger, making her blush and shudder, can’t stop petting her tail tucked beside her on the one chair in his cabin that he insisted she take
bear!price who, when she says that she’s still cold that night, takes great pleasure in wrapping her in his arms and pressing her down into the bed, who swallows each of the adorable little squeaks she makes as he nuzzles her throat, forces her thighs wide to fit his hips, and forces his cock inside
bear!price who’s too big for a pretty little otter like her but makes her take it anyway, crooning that she can take it she’s doing so good just hold out a little longer he just needs to fuck his scent into her so she smells right and he can sleep, licks her tears off her cheeks when she cums as his cockhead rams up against her womb, little claws raking ineffectively at his skin never able to break through
bear!price who decides mid fuck that she’s the softest, sweetest thing he’s ever felt and a pussy that tight can’t walk away from him. he deserves something soft to come home to, something to take his cock and cry about how big it is and just be so fucking sweet and soft for him. decides he’ll keep the little stray after all, now aren’t you grateful sweetheart? he’s gonna be so good to you, why don’t you thank him by taking his load?
ok so since y'all seemed to like bear!price, let's run it back with the hybrid/shifter stuff!! let's talk about black panther!simon with a field mouse reader
black panther!simon who's taller than price but lankier seeming, and you find yourself doubting that he's as strong as his captain until you see his body actually working (once he hefted a fallen tree that was blocking their way in the jungle. he didn't even have to work that hard) and you realize the 'lankiness' is fucking deceptive
black panther!simon who's mask incorporates his furred, slightly pointed ears, making them sharp and sinister at the points, the human skull open at the bottom so he can flash a wide mouth of sharp fangs, poised to tear into flesh, retractable claws sliding out to slash a throat. no need for a knife when he's got blades in his mouth and his fingers to silence scouts and guards
black panther!simon who they thought would never be able to work with a team. too territorial, too solitary, too apathetic towards most others. but when you have a bear who sees you as his wayward cub, and a wolf and a collie that see you as pack, it's jut easier to give in and let them make you theirs. even if simon has to constantly be rubbing his head against their necks, ensuring they've got his scent. they're his territory too now
black panther!simon who is stealthy, more than a ghost in the night, he's fucking invisible. he can move without being heard, without being seen, melting completely into the backdrop of the night, a haunting nightmare to his enemies - if they manage to survive encountering him. they often don't. he's a true predator, and he hates to leave a kill incomplete
black panther!simon who can't stop staring when their team is assigned a new medic, a cute little mouse who squeaks and hides around the medical table when he goes in to get cleared for a mission, and he takes one look at her big, dark, round eyes wide and wet with fearful tears, thin tail lashing through the air, huge ears flattened to her head, and he's instantly hard
black panther!simon who looks at her and wants, decides that he wants to know what she tastes like, if her pussy is as sweet and little as the rest of her. he's never liked to play with his food, not much, but how could he resist when she's so cute, trying to sink her little teeth into the meat of his arm he's got wrapped around her like she could actually fight him off?
black panther!simon who puts her in his bed and gives her a pumpkin seed (fed to her by hand) in reward for each thing she tells him about herself. he drinks in the way her gaze shifts as he interrogates her (gentle, way easier than most of his interrogations but he doesn't want to break her, not like that at least, not when she's got something else coming), and her fear and suspicion melts into a vivid curiosity, a glassy eyed admiration
black panther!simon who rewards his little mouse for her information by telling her he's going to keep her safe, make it so even other predators know she's off limits. but to do so he's got to mark her up. and she's going to be brave and take it, won't she?
black panther!simon who buried his fangs in her fragile neck (only barely breaking skin, just enough to leave a good mark), eyes rolling back in his head as she squeaks and chitters endlessly while he ruts his cock deeper, an inch at a time, until those big dark eyes are glassy with cockdrunk lust and spilling fat tears down her cheeks, her cunt dripping as he fucks her deep
black panther!simon who's big enough, strong enough to break a cute little thing like her, but he's not breaking you, mouse, he's just breaking you in, you were made to take cock, to make those cute little noises when he's balls deep, and he's gonna use you for what you were made for: carrying his litter. gotta keep you marked up so people know who you belong to, and you do belong to him, mouse, now and forever
Price with a 20 something girl who sometimes will jokingly call him ‘peepaw’ in public and he smirks and shakes his head goodnaturedly
cw: daddy kink, rough sex, breeding kink
and then when he gets her home he puts his brat over his knee and spanks her ass raw, crooning to her sweet but kind of mean in the same even tone no matter how big those crocodile tears of hers get down her cheeks when he spanks her pussy
“Shoulda been better behaved, ya know the consequences for when you’re being a fuckin brat, dove, be good for Daddy and take it”
until she’s sobbing, cunt sore and puffy and ass scarlet red with his handprint blooming on each cheek, her whole face wet with tears as she begs Daddy to give her his cock instead, she can be good, she’ll be so good, please Daddy, it hurts, it hurts
Price finally takes pity on her, pins her knees by her ears and hammers his fat cock home in that too tight little cunt while her manicured nails rake down his shoulders and she screams, cumming again and again around him as the head bullies her cervix and he growls in her ear,
“Be a good fucking girl for Daddy, make sure his cum doesn’t go to fuckin waste, be good and get fuckin pregnant”
and here we have the final boss of my hybrid/shifter au for the 141: collie!soap and housecat!mc
collie!soap who cannot fucking sit still to save his goddamn life. it's not just a preference to be active, to be working, his big ears constantly on swivel, tail held out in a straight line, no it's a full blown five alarm need that goes right through his skull, through his bones down to his soul. he needs to work, needs to be useful, needs to prove that he's worth all the irritation he knows he puts them through weaving in and around them, pushing them together into a tight knot because he's gotta keep the pack together, gotta keep the pack safe
collie!soap who loves his pack dearer than anything. even grumpy simon who only reluctantly scented him at first (now his best friend). gaz who cuddles up with him so they can sleep. price who calls them 'cub' and gives their orders like divination from god. but he's a collie. he's always looking for more pack. he wants a mate, wants a soft thing to curl up around with his knot locked in deep, smothered in his scent, round with his pups. he wants it more than he's ever wanted anything, and the whole team knows it. they'd tease him about it if it didn't make him whine, pathetic and horny and sad when they did
collie!soap who has fucked lots of girls, always with the endgame of marriage and children in mind, but it's never quite worked out. gaz says he's too eager, simon says he's too honest, price says he obviously never wanted any of them that much or he'd never have let them go without getting knotted and bred up proper. he never used to buy into that, until he goes into his local pub and finds a new lass behind the bar, sweet little cat-slitted eyes and a big fluffy white tail and fluffy white ears
collie!soap who herds her in closer and closer to him with compliments and praise and his eagerness to be close to her, only beaming when he gets too handsy and she hisses or swipes at him or catches him with her claws. it's hard to hold it against her when she always goes all meek and wracked with guilt, teary eyed and bubbling apologies as she pats his shoulders, his chest, gently explores his new wounds, and he's not afraid to use her guilt to reel her in closer
collie!soap who's fucking obsessed with her, right from the beginning. with her soft fluffy white fur, her quiet little purr she tries to hide from him when he tells her how bonnie she looks today, kitten, the way her pupils go big when she spots him coming in, the way she 'accidentally' curls her tail around his when she passes by 'accidentally' rubbing up against him. he's only a man, and he can only take so much of her teasing before he just - snaps
collie!soap who pins her in a corner in the dark back of the pub after closing when he offered to be 'helpful' and close up with her and walk her home, and she purrs when he gets his hands on her, rubbing against him like the prissy little housecat she is, pupils blown wide and sounds pouring free as he gets his hands under her skirt and makes her cum by petting her clit and telling her how pretty she is, and once he sinks his cock deep inside her cunt he's lost, marriage proposals and harsh filthy praise spilling free, look at how you take his fucking cock kitten so fucking pretty he bets you could even take his knot, isn't that right? you wanna take his knot kitten? want him to knot you good and fill that sweet little womb with his cum and swell you up all pretty and fat with his litter, you'd fucking love that wouldn't you? then ask for it, kitten, ask for his knot, you're gonna be asking for it every day the rest of your life, better get used to it lass
Hi! New to your page but very much enjoying your writing!
I seen requests were open and had a thought about a prompt and while my immediate thought was Johnny for this prompt, any and all of the 141 are welcome, but them having a big crush on the girl that works in their favorite sex shop? (Johnny was the first thought because well toys...)
Anyways thanks for reading the idea even if it doesn't spark anything, I appreciate your time ☺️
nonny you are the SWEETEST omg and HELLO??!?! johnny with a SEX SHOP WORKER??? that's so good oh my god i love it lets dive in
johnny is admittedly a horn dog. he likes to fuck! what's wrong with that? it's him and doechii on a soapbox together declaring how much they like sex and he's chill with that reality. part of liking sex is liking sex with himself. just because he's masturbating doesn't mean it can't be fulfilling, or fun, or toe curlingly good. he goes to efforts to make it good, unlike some others he could name who half ass watching porn or who jerk the chicken in the showers like they're on a time limit. no. johnny likes to indulge himself.
and indulgence means toys. lots of them. enter his favorite sex shop. it's a small business sort of place, which he prefers over the massive corporate controlled spaces crowding out the sex industry with their clinical and minimalistic feel. nah, no thanks. he prefers places like this. its his favorite shop not just because of the wide selection, clean space (without being medical or clinical in The Wrong Way), and wide range of operating hours. nah, his favorite shop is his favorite almost entirely because of the staff, or really just the one.
he likes being able to go in and actually have a chat with the girl behind the counter and her perky tits bouncing free behind her shirt, how he can see the tiniest nubs on either side of her nipples that hint at piercings there. how she laughs and playfully smacks him every time he asks her (seriously, fuck, he's so serious about this) if he can have her demonstrate a toy for him. preferably naked. he likes how her eyes linger on him when he's handling the display models, testing how the sexdolls 'realistic' flesh bounces when he smacks it, how the clear fleshlights look taking his fingers, how she squirms and chews on her mouth and blushes a storm when he asks her to tell him her favorites, and then immediately purchases them.
but it's gotten to the point now that his self care time doesn't just include audio porn from his usual favorite creators. it's recommendations from his girl at the shop, and imagining that it's her pussy wrapped tight around his cock as he fucks the fleshlight she suggested with the lube he tasted off her finger has him coming fast and hard every time. but it never quells the ache in his gut, even when he's gone four rounds with himself in a single night and even the thought of touching his dick again makes him want to cry. no. he needs something deeper. something more. needs his girl from the shop to finally take him up on his offers and let him use his collection on her to have her cum harder than she ever has in her life.
maybe after that they could even do something really crazy like date and eventually get married. who knows?
hiiii it's the person who sent you the graves x fem reader request yesterday (idk if you wanna keep track of anons but if so can i be 🦜?) anyway i'm having more Thots about him:
graves bringing his gf(reader) to the shadow company base and having her wander around some empty hallways so he can hunt her down and fuck her (in all his gear ofc. idk what it is about a tac vest but they're fucking sexy). in my head it's a whole cnc/roleplay thing where he's super into it and really leans into his scary military man persona :)
hi pookie!!! i don't have any tracked anons yet but i'd love to start!!! you can definitely be 🦜anon!! (also i hope you liked the first little drabble, this one got...far longer lmao)
you should have known that Phillip was up to something when you walked out of the bedroom that morning to find him still sitting at the kitchen counter with a mug of long cold coffee. the smirk alone hadn’t rung any alarm bells, he was still Phillip, and if he wasn’t smirking he was pouting scowling.
but when you’d asked why he hadn’t already left for work as was his usual habit all he’d said was that he wanted to take you along. show you around.
“Half of it’s yours, honey, don’t you wanna see what your man gets up to during the day?”
which that was a whole other problem, what did he mean by ‘half of it’s yours’ exactly? and with you thus distracted and shocked by his casual notification that oh yeah, he’d already signed over half of everything he owned to you “What the fuck else would I do, babycakes, does that ring on your finger not mean nothing to you?” you didn’t wind up pressing him on why today of all days he decided he wanted to show you around Shadow Company.
it was, of course, an extremely impressive operation. not that you really knew much about military private contractors, or what Phillip and the Shadows did while off on assignment, sometimes for months on end, but you figured you got the big picture idea around the time he was proudly showing off an armory that would make several countries green with envy.
and now he was laying out his usual kit for you, piece by piece, your eyes growing wider and wider as he just kept adding things until you interrupted his lecture on why he preferred a specific kind of knife in this specific holster to blurt out-
“There’s no possible way you can carry all that around all the time.”
he blinked, smirk curling up the corners of his mouth. “That so, sugar?” chuckling, he leaned in, teasing, “Should I be hurt you think so little of how much I can lift, honey?”
“No, I mean,” you huffed, waving a hand at the veritable ton of equipment now neatly arranged on like three different stainless steel tables. “I just mean that…Phillip there’s so much of this stuff, if you tried to carry all of it all the time you wouldn’t be able to move around, and even if you could, it wouldn’t be quick!”
Phillip laughed, denim blue eyes dancing. “You’d be surprised, pretty baby. Wanna see?”
raising a brow, you crossed your arms over your chest. “Only if you’re prepared for me to laugh at you when you get it all on and you look ridiculous and run a four hour mile. No, I’m calling your bluff, you’re just trying to impress me in some weird, macho military man way.”
in a second Phillip had your chin gripped in his hand, pulling your head up to seal your mouths together with a kiss that stole your breath, and several brain cells. when you were a panting, horny mess (god, he knew what it did to you when he groaned into your mouth how good you tasted he did that shit on purpose) he pulled back, smirking wide with his pupils blown, hair mussed from your hands still tangled in it.
“Babycakes,” he crooned, “now that’s a mean fucking lie. You know I ain’t gotta do a damn thing to impress you by now, honey. But if you wanted to see me all kitted up, shit. Happy to arrange it for you, sugar.”
you couldn’t even scrape together the wherewithal to protest or defend yourself, the inside of your head all cotton stuffed and hot from his kiss and wandering hands. he chuckled as he picked you up by the waist and set you down on one of the long metal tables with a warm but firm, “Keep it parked there, sugar, eyes on me, you know how I like it.”
and so you did, trying not to squirm as you watched him pull on sheaths and holsters heavy with weaponry, wrap something that looked suspiciously like a collar around his neck, then came the vest, the gloves, the beige balaclava, the helmet-
why was it so fucking hot watching him get dressed? wasn't it supposed to be the other way around?
but he looked so...dangerous.
in your head you knew that he was dangerous. you knew what he did for a living, and that he was good enough at it that he could afford to, if he wanted, literally buy and sell Dallas itself.
you'd just never really dedicated a whole lot of thought to this side of him before. at least not in front of Phillip, where he could see you quivering in your seat chewing on your lower lip, thighs clenched together as your pussy got hot looking at your fiancé wearing all of his tactical gear.
he wasn't just your fiancé right then, and that was what was really fogging up your head. he was a soldier, the soldier, the best of the best, faceless, unfeeling, unmovable object and unstoppable force.
in the back of your head, an idea prickled.
sometimes he went on missions to try and find people.
what if you were one of them?
what if you had to try and outrun the Apollonian god before you?
by the time the last strap was buckled tight, you were sure you'd soaked through your panties.
trying to ignore it, you hoped he couldn't hear the threadiness in your voice as you teased, "Well you got it all on, but that doesn't mean that you can move around all that fast."
his head tilted to the side, and the fabric covering his face shifted. he'd be smirking beneath it, you knew him well enough to know that instantly. and then he chuckled. low and...vicious.
that was when your stomach flipped, some gut deep instinctive reaction born out of evolutionary necessity. and you got the first inkling that maybe, just maybe you’d walked into a trap.
"Wanna bet?" his voice was muffled a little, but you didn't have any trouble hearing him. all you could hear was him as he took slow, measured steps forward until he was caging you in against the table, blotting out all light, all sound, everything else in the world but him. "How about we play a game, sugar?"
it took a few tries, but eventually you were able to unstick your tongue from the roof of your mouth to mutter weakly, "A game?"
"Mmhm." one rough gloved hand came up and took your chin, the scratch of the material making you shiver. "I'll give you a sixty second head start. And then I'll come after you. F'you get out of the building 'fore I catch you, I'll make dinner for a month."
oh god. oh god oh god oh god, he really had seen what you were thinking hadn't he?
the words came out of your mouth unbidden. "What if you...what if you catch me?"
his thumb rubbed over your mouth, pressing against the swell of your lips, mindless of disturbing your lip gloss that got smeared over the black fabric.
when he chuckled again, the sound went right to your clenching, empty pussy. "F'I catch you, I get to do anything I want. Wherever we are. Even if you try and pretend like you don't want it."
a moan slithered out between your parted lips before you could catch it.
Phillip dropped your chin, stepping back and neatly avoiding your hands reflexively coming up to try and keep him close. "Time starts now, honey."
the beige balaclava stretched, his denim eyes burning through your body above it. "Run."
you did.
in the moment it was like some wild animal had taken over your brain. no thought. no plan. no instinct. just something driving you deeper and deeper into the darkly shadowed labyrinthian halls, something that you couldn't even begin to pretend was just plain fear.
sure, there was some fear.
that was normal. healthy. that was a billion years as predator/prey in your bloodline pushing you to run further, faster, harder away from your pursuer.
but the pulse in your pussy? the hot clench of your stomach every time you froze when you heard the tiniest sound before you scrambled through another door you didn't recognize? the way you could feel your nipples tight and needy against your thin shirt Phillip had picked out for you just a few hours ago?
that wasn't fear.
not even close.
god, had he planned this?
of course he had, he must've. but how had he known?
you turned another corner, panting hard, staring at a long line of lockers, most decorated or obviously in use. your heart was racing, drowning out anything you might have heard beyond your own heavy breathing.
and that was when you saw it.
the door just to the left and all the way at the back of the room, opened ever so slightly. a tinge of sunlight falling through onto the dark floor.
you dove for it, but a thick muscled arm wrapped tight around your waist, hauling you backwards into a wide, familiar chest.
and even though you kicked your feet in the air and back at those sturdy legs, and scratched at the thick fabric covering that burly arm, it didn't do a single bit of good.
against your back you could feel the hard threatening lumps of the weapons and various equipment Phillip had strapped on. his other gloved hand raised, curling around the front of your neck, and you froze instantly, brain going blank.
"Caught you," he purred.
even just the sound of his voice like this was different somehow, and not just because of the balaclava. you'd never heard him sound like this, raw and vicious and arrogant. a predator who'd caught his prey.
the arm around your waist shifted, and his gloved hand moved to start playing with your breasts, rougher than normal, like he wasn't taking care to control himself for once.
"And what a pretty little thing I've caught." he sounded so proud, as his fingers found your nipple through your shirt and pinched, hard enough your hips bucked and you whined, way louder than you should have.
he only laughed, low and mean. "Look at these pretty things, could cut right through that flimsy fucking shirt, babycakes, couldn't they? Aw, sugar, don't tell me. Don't tell me you liked being hunted."
you heard it then, the slight waver in his voice. felt the shift in his stance as he continued to hold you aloft against his body. you couldn't feel the press of his hips, not with him wearing his vest and weapons, but you knew, you knew he was hard.
"P-Phillip-"
the hand around your throat tightened. not cutting off air, not yet, just threatening to. "Nah, honey. Don't even think about fucking lying to me."
with a few long strides he turned you to face the nearest blank wall, pinning you against it, barely able to brace yourself on your tippy toes as he reached down and shoved your skirt to the floor.
his groan drowned out your strangled sound of surprise. "Fuck, can see you liked it. Fucking soaked these panties, sugar, feel that?"
another whine snuck out of you when rough, blunt pressure rubbed at your cunt, the sensation lighting sparks up your spine, blinding you for a moment.
"I got a confession, honey." Phillip hooked a finger in your panties and ripped them right off. "I fucking liked it too."
he was still wearing the kit. still wearing the helmet, the balaclava, the gloves. you were completely and utterly at his mercy, dripping wet around his digits as he unceremoniously shoved two knuckle deep inside of you uncaring of the rough drag of the unfamiliar fabric against your ultra sensitive walls, and all you could do was stay there and fucking take it, squirming and moaning until you were dizzy with it.
you shouldn't be as close to coming as you were. he'd barely touched you, and what he had given you had been mean and cruel, but it just made your cunt drip and your thighs shake.
"Fuck," Phillip grunted in a tone you only recognized from when he'd already gone two rounds with you in a night just to find that it still wasn't enough. you'd never heard him sound this base and primal outside of nights like those. "Fuck."
he leaned forward as his hands disappeared, fumbling behind you, his masked mouth pressed against your ear, his body weight keeping you in place.
in the back of your head, you remembered his terms. once he caught you, he got to do whatever he wanted with you.
you could feel the heat of his breath as he bit out, "Gonna feel that fucking pussy on my cock right fucking now. And I don't wanna hear you whining that it hurts or you can't take it. Be a good girl, sugar and just - just fuck - fucking - god!"
Phillip usually liked to tease you. liked to fuck your folds, rubbing the head of his cock against your clit or only fucking you with the head of his cock and asking you sweetly why you weren't satisfied, why you were begging for more, wasn't he being a gentleman by not fucking you with the whole thing? why couldn't you be grateful and just take what he gave you? and only after you broke down into near hysterical teasing would he give in and finally sink deep.
but not tonight.
tonight he rammed balls deep in one thrust and set a deep, brutal pace that had your eyes rolling back, your hands clawing at the paint on the wall like it could help your fluttering, spasming walls around his cock as you struggled to take him, could help that deep point inside of you where he was ramming his cockhead against your womb.
like it could help the rising tidal wave of pleasure threating to hit you and knock you to the ground at any moment as he fucked you in the open for his own pleasure, like you were nothing more than a toy for him to get off with.
patience was out the window and he was proving a point that you didn't even know was in question.
"You belong to me," he growled, not even sounding that out of breath as he just kept pounding, easily catching your hips and holding you up when your knees gave out as you came untouched and unasked for on his cock. "Every inch of your body, and especially this perfect fucking pussy, it belongs to me, and I can do whatever I want with what's mine."
your head bobbed mindlessly, back arching sweetly as you tried to take his cock, every thrust jolting you head to toe. tears stung your eyes, started sliding down your cheeks as you shouted when he shifted the angle almost imperceptibly and started nailing your g-spot on every thrust.
"Say it," he snapped. "fucking say you belong to me, angel."
"I - I be-belong to y-you!"
"That's fucking right." his voice was like a snarl, uncaring of your squeal and your writhing as his hips picked up speed. "Think I don't know how fast you can run? Think I don't know how that pretty head works? Can't fucking fool me, babycakes, you wanted this almost as much as I did. My perfect fucking slut, god, so goddamn greedy for my fucking cock, take it so fucking good, c'mon baby, c'mon baby, c'mon baby fucking cum for me, one more time cum right on my cock or you won't cum this whole fucking week I swear to god-"
you screamed as another wave hit you, your body bucking against Phillip like you could push him off, secure in the knowledge you never could, that he'd keep you pinned against the wall with those hands bruising your waist as every muscle in your body contracted.
you could feel every inch of him inside you. every ridge, every vein, every pulse of his cock as he fucked you sloppy and deep.
and you could hear him, muttering hotly against your ear, "Atta girl, atta fucking girl, darlin', god, that's it, that's it, just stay tight for me feels so goddamn good, let me fill up that pretty pussy, hm? Want me to fill you up with my cum?"
speech was totally beyond you now, black spots blinking in and out of your field of vision, and all you could do was nod and whimper pathetically, weakly trying to tilt your hips back to give him the perfect angle.
"Fuck, yes, good girl, my good fucking girl ain'tcha darlin', just take it, be good and fucking - fuck, fuck!"
he slammed in one last time, all the way, deep enough it did more than just stretch you, it felt like he was about to break you, like one wrong move and you'd be feeling his cock in your throat and not just your stomach.
searing heat filled you as he pumped you full of his cum. your legs shook, the only thing holding you up was his hands, his cock, and the wall.
heat burned over your face and chest as you felt some of that cum start to drip out, coating your inner thighs, sliding down your leg.
all you could manage was a thin, reedy whine.
"Shh," Phillip soothed, hoarse and breathless. he shuffled closer, leaning against you and the wall a little more. with him that close you could feel the barest hint of a tremor in his own thighs pressed against your own. "Fuck, sugar. Gimme a second. Still fucking cumming."
and he was. you could feel every pulse, every twitch of his cock inside of you like this, could hear every mutter and moan he made as he rode it out.
when it was over he let out a long, relieved sigh, like an itch that had finally been discovered and scratched to satisfaction.
"Good girl." his hands gentled, arms sliding around your waist and mouth pressed against your neck, humming like a lazy cat in the sun as he carried you over to a long bench and sat down, keeping you in his lap, his softening cock still inside you.
you whimpered, jolting, but his gloved hands rubbed over your thighs, your belly, up between the valley of your breasts to cup your throat.
"Shh, s'alright, babycakes," he crooned. "Jus' need a little breather. Jus' wanna feel you a little longer."
one of his hands left you briefly, and you heard his helmet fall to the floor. and then his mouth was on your neck, smothering every bit of skin he could get in kisses.
the two of you moaned when an after shock of pleasure made you clench down on him again.
Phillip's hand turned your face to his so he could kiss your slack mouth. "Gonna be the fucking death of me, honey."
pouting, you forced out a disagreeable sound.
he just laughed, smoothing his hand over your stomach, squeezing the inside of your sore thigh. "The ideas you come up with? Having me hunt you in my own company building? God, that was so fucking hot."
for the moment, you refrained from reminding him that it had been all his idea. you were too fucked out and sleepy to bother with it for the moment.
Phillip's hands were checking on you, massaging muscle, testing sore spots, gently soothing abused skin and muscle as you climbed down from your high.
"Better be careful," he cautioned, smirking against your throat. "Or I'm gonna want to do this all the time. Gonna want to put you on those pretty knees in a conference room here, bend you over my desk and fuck that tight, pretty little asshole of yours."
you just moaned in response, which of course made him laugh.
I just got a new jumpsuit and didn't realize anytime I need to use the bathroom I need someone to untie me because of the way it lays on my back. (It's stupid and annoying but it was my first time wearing it so I didn't know)
Now I'm just picturing a pretty bird going up to the 141 and asking them to undress her (because she's tipsy, can't find her friends, and needs to use the bathroom but her own outfit is holding her hostage lol) what would the boys reactions be?
YELLING I HAVE TO YELL OMG I LOVE I LOVE I LOVE!!! (also bestie that sounds so annoying it would have to be the CUTEST jumpsuit for me to want to keep it once i had that realization)
ok here we go:
price:
he's been aware of you, dancing and singing along to the songs over head across the club that he only agreed to come to because soap and gaz threatened mutiny if he and ghost didn't come along. (and to prevent possible crimes. it's happened before when they're unsupervised.) he's been enjoying watching you dance, but hasn't made a move to interrupt you. it's not his scene and he's got a great view. figured when you needed a breather he could swoop in and introduce himself. but then you glance around the club, frowning and swaying a little, and when your eyes find him you beam and beeline right for him. you're obviously a little tipsy, a little handsy, giggling with slightly glazed eyes and a flushed, pretty face (he wonders if you look like this when you've just been fucked, hopes he can compare from personal experience) and you ask him for some help in the bathroom. and he would say no, he's a gentleman and much as he'd like to you're in no state, but then some asshole sitting beside him tries to swoop in and he has to shut that shit down fast. he takes you in to the staff bathroom after speaking with the bartender (and exchanging a little money), and is a perfect gentleman about it. really. (there were like three mirrors in the bathroom and he got a good fucking view when he was leaving to guard the door from the outside while you peed, and he was definitely looking through his hand shielding his eyes when he came back in.) and if he lets his hands linger a little as he laces you back up, if he kisses your shoulder and lets his hands drop to squeeze your waist - well then who could blame him, really? he drops you back with your friends with your number in his phone and a kiss to the cheek. "See you 'round, pretty bird."
ghost:
like price, he'd been dragged to the club against his will. soap has been begging him to be his wingman (why is anyone's guess, it's not like ghost's great at. like. talking to birds.) and he finally gave in and agreed just to shut him up. he's having a rough time, honestly, it's loud and crowded and not his scene at all, but what's making it bearable is the pretty bird in a jumpsuit having a ball out on the dance floor. he's trying not to be obvious about watching, but soap's caught him a couple times, enough to tease him (annoying little shit, he'll have the fucker run drills til he pukes), enough even for you to notice, flashing him smiles and even waving at him across the floor. (he froze for a full minute before his hand twitched, raising halfway before he realized you weren't even looking at him anymore and he put it down.) he watches you look around, craning your neck, trying to find something, and is arguing with himself about his instinct to walk over and ask what you need when suddenly you're walking over to him. his ears and face burn with heat as you brace yourself with a hand on his upper thigh to lean in and ask sweetly against his ear if he'll help you out of your jumpsuit, and he can't speak for a long moment, his brain just static. until soap (he knows how to get the LT back online) tries to offer to help and ghost surges to a standing position, bristling like an angry cat "sit the fuck down, sergeant. i can handle this" he walks you into the mens bathroom like it's nothing, and one barked order has all the drunks scattering like rats. he locks the door behind the last of them and ensures the bathroom is clear (and selects the cleanest stall) before his shaking hands get you out. he spends the time you're in the stall firmly telling himself not to get hard, that it's just being a good samaritan or whatever. it's no big deal. but then you come out, batting your eyes and asking for help, one hand holding the waist of the jumpsuit up and the other covering your tits, and he nearly falls to his knees. yeah, he decides as he fumbles to try to get you redressed, he's gotta get your number or something. "So love. Where do you live?"
gaz:
this is one of his favorite bars. not too overpriced, not too 'hole in the wall', frequented by people his age rather than just the old locals who's grandparents went and sat in their same chairs however many years back, and yet it's not totally overwhelmed by tourists. it's really the perfect bar. it's his go-to when he wants to blow off steam or get a good old fashioned or, like tonight, dance. he saw you come in with your friends, huddled together like a pack of lionesses on the hunt, all dressed up and ready to swoop in for the kill. he took one look at you and groaned out loud, enough for the bloke next to him to look over at you and your friends and whistle softly. he swooped in before anyone else could get a chance to, glad to escort you over to the dance floor, supervise your trips to the bar, one eye on the bartender and any other man who dared try to get close, his other eye on you as you talked. you're a lightweight, that much is for sure, or maybe you just don't drink that often if all it takes for you to get all cute and tipsy is two vodka crans and a few sips of his beer from the bottle he keeps dangled between his fingers while his arms are around you. you smell and feel like heaven, and he'd originally been planning to take you back to his, but he's not sure that's on the table anymore when you stumble back, giggling against his chest. and then you lift that pretty face and ask him so sweet to help you find your friends because you 'need help' in the bathroom, and he swears he nearly goes blind as arousal hits him hard and fast. he plays the gentleman at first, offering gallantly to help you find your friends, but would you look at that, nowhere to be seen? oh well, he's happy to help if you'd like, baby. he takes you to the ladies' room, a charming smile and a short explanation preventing any alarm from rising as the bathroom empties. he keeps his eyes closed ('fumbling' or really just groping and feeling up your hot skin and the perfect give to your body under his hands), babbling apologies when his hands 'slip' as he unties and then reties you. by the time you're all laced up again your hands are running over his chest, your thighs pressing together and a needy look replacing the tipsy gaze in your eye. he cups your chin, smiling charmingly. "I think I'd like to do that again sometime. But maybe at my place, and not a bathroom. And you'd take it all the way off...and keep it off."
soap:
he fucking loves going to clubs. gay clubs, strip clubs, german clubs, overpriced nightclubs, hole in the wall barely staying afloat clubs, underground punk clubs, whatever, he loves them all. and while he loves dragging his team out with him whenever he can, he doesn't drag them out every time he goes, think how much work that would be to make sure they have a good time while he's working his magic with a pretty hen. so he's alone when he sees you across the dance floor, and he's instantly in love with the way your hips move. he's never been shy about wanting a lass a day in his life, and you're not different in the least. you move against him like a goddamn dream and he's been half hard for the last few dances, his hands on your hips and his mouth on your neck, and he would press for more but he's admittedly had a few drinks and so have you, so he's trying to keep a clear head and at least pretend to be a gentleman (even if he's already put a hand on your tits and squeezed when they put Buttons on earlier, smirking when it made you shiver). but then you turn around, crowding close, and manage to convey to him that you have to find your friends for some 'help in the bathroom'. he grins like a wolf and says he can give you everything you need. admittedly his mind is in the gutter and he doesn't even care about the women gasping in shock when you tow him inside, just smiles and waves at them all. and of course he's disappointed when you reassure them that you're not having sex, he's just helping you with the back of your jumpsuit. (he thinks it's fascinating how all the women take one look at the back and immediately nod, empathetic noises coming from them) no one leaves and he's all smirks and wandering hands, praise pouring out of his mouth at your dancing skills, how good you smell, how pretty your skin is, hen, wow, look at that when the top slips and he gets a good peek over your shoulder at your tits before you cover them. the other girls giggle as you playfully smack him before ducking into a stall, and he just smiles and leans against the wall waiting for you. "you're a really good boyfriend" some girl sighs wistfully. "my Tom would never set foot in a ladies room" he doesn't correct her, just thanks her and tells her to ditch Tom, which is met with raucous applause. when you emerge from the stall he plasters himself to your back as he ties you back up, playfully saying "such a shame to cover all this back up, lassie. but i can take you back to mine and get a proper look later." your eyes meet his in the mirror, blushing hard, and you ask, "is that a threat?" "no, hen, s'a promise."
