Whistle While You Work

Whistle while you work

Synopsis - sometimes all a little lass needs is to just holler the lyrics of an angry female-empowering country music, but a certain beloved Scot just can’t help but be worried he screwed up

cw: swearing, medical and military workplace inaccuracies, playful language, suggestive content, heavy flirting, slight miscommunication trope(this hurts me more than this hurts you believe me), nicknames, use of Scottish and southern(Georgia/texas) accent that some readers may find corny or displeasurable

Pairing: Johnny “Soap” MacTavish x southern!medic!reader

Author’s note: I know I said I was busy but I heard “Before He Cheats” by Carrie Underwood come on the radio and it’s been an ear worm that sticking to my brain like flies on a horse. But once again I’m here to remind you that I’m taking southern notes from Georgia and Texas because I was raised in one and I visit family quite often in the other. I am completely open to constructive criticism but if you have nothing nice to say then you just scroll past it costs you absolutely nothing to mind your business. Italicized is singing btw.

©️moonriseoverkyoto 2023. please do not steal, copy, plagiarize, translate, or repost any of my works without my permission. do not steal any elements of my theme without permission.

Soap had begun to have a routine with you. He could often come visit you after shift hours or you would come along on missions and be his first pit stop at base. It was a beautiful little arrangement that the F1F begun to adore. You were the warm fire to warm their cold hearts or the blazing hearth to whip them into shape if they got rowdy. So it was a little jarring to him when he strolled into your clinic and heard an angry drawl.

“Right now, he's probably slow dancin' with a bleach-blonde tramp. And she’s probably gettin’ frisky.”

Your voice had him weak at the knees but there was something off in your pitch. A grit, an anger, a frustration. He suddenly began retracing his steps, trying to find a failure placed upon his behalf.

“Right now, he's probably buyin' her some fruity little drink 'Cause she can't shoot whiskey.”

“Bonnie?” the man called out to you, his reaction was controlled but his heart thumped against his chest trying to break out. When you didn’t respond he decided to stay by the doors out of your vision to figure out what was the issue, studying you.

“Right now, he's probably up behind her with a pool stick. Showin' her how to shoot a combo. And he don't know”

Your hips began to sway against the rising tune and even in your scrubs, there was a clear muscle memory when it came to the rhythm of the song. Soap quickly exited and left to go to the common room to find the rest of the F1F playing poker

“There’s loverboy, we were wondering how long it would take for you and-“

“Firstly, she’s my friend Capt’n you know that. Secondly, Somethin’s a mattah with Bonnie.” Soap cut Price off quickly not caring for niceties.

“why because she’s running a little late?” Gaz spoke while checking his turn. It was comical how they knew you by your nicknames from Soap rather than your god given name.

“Aye ‘nd she’s singin’ this song of ‘ers and it’s got me all worried. I mean I know that I’ve been a wee bit busy lately but I’ve made sure to make me rounds and when I came to her place she was swinging hips and I ken to know when somethin’s a mattah with me Bonnie-“ Simon’s head turned to his friend with interest as Gaz cut the rambling man short.

“Calm down mate. We cannot understand you when you go back to the ancestral plane with that tongue of yours” Gaz spoke. Price waved him off to let the Scott breathe.

“She’s up tae high doh.” Soap rushed out, his brows knit together trying to piece together what could’ve happened.

“In English, lad” Price spoke up. However somebody came to his rescue.

“The phrase is meant to be used to describe when somebody is pent up, flustered. It’s a Scottish saying.” Ghost answered with a deep baritone. Everyone was surprised but secretly noted the phrase for whenever they had to go solo with the Mohawk man.

“So go talk to her” Price responded to Soap with a look that said he was ordering, then he offered a small gift of liquid courage

Soap refused the drink and made his way back over to the infirmary. His brain scrambling to find an answer.

“I dug my key into the side of his pretty little souped-up four-wheel drive. Carved my name into his leather seats”

Your belted notes rung through the doors and hit his ears. He vowed he would find out the issue and fix it just so he wouldn’t have to hear the pain in your voice. He came around the corner as you stood in front of a table, organizing your different surgery and procedural tools. He spotted the AirPod beneath your trucker hat (since wearing a traditional cowboy hat was too distracting in the work place even during the quiet shifts. )

“I took a Louisville slugger to both headlights. Slashed a hole in all four tires-“

Soap swallowed all his worry as he grabbed an AirPod out and spoke but you beat him to the punch.

“Who in all of god givens creation just ordered a free fuckin’- Oh sweetheart Johnny it’s you.” Your fire calmed just as quick as it kindled.

“hey lassie I was getting worried about you” Soap said. His heart and maybe something else throbbed at your honey tone. One day he’d finally act upon those feelings but today he needed to worry about something else. “What’s got you all worked up?”

“Are you saying I’m throwin’ a hissy fit?”

“Noo jist haud on there Lassie. I jist was-“

“Heavens to Betsy! You do think I’m havin’ a hissy fit, why you oughta know that I was the best little-“

As you two went on back and forth, the distance between your bodies got smaller and smaller. Two wide eyed grins plastered across your face. He cut you off with a smirk

“Oh I’m sure you were the.. how do you say it again? Oh right” Johnny leaned in closer and his voice dropped, “the best little girl this side of the Mississippi. Ain’t that right, hen?”

“I know damn well you did not just call me a hen from a damn barn house-“ you went to speak again but got cut off as your throat hitched, soap’s mouth just by your ear and his tone got unrealistically deeper and more dominant. A careful hand grazing your hip.

“Shut yer pus for a moment, hen. Tell me what’s a matter. What’s got you so up tae high doh.” The male spoke.

You were silent for once. All the cogs in your brain just stopped. Everything was quiet, if you had perfect hearing you could hear Johnny’s poor heart banging to get out of his chest in anxiety from him boldly caressing your waist.

“Aww come on lassie, need me to buy a wrench for that brain of yours”

“I misplaced my sewing needle. Well I did or one of the stupid nurses did but I can’t find it and I won’t find it till the cows come home” you huffed.

“The one from your nana?”

“Does a bear shit in the woods?”

“No need for the ‘tude. May I look?”

“Sure. It’s no bigger than a minnow in a fishing pond” you said softly as he gently moved you aside to look at the table below. His trained eye spotting a glint on the ground. He reached over to pick it up and show it to you.

“Bless your heart! Good god Johnny, oh my sweet I could kiss you!” You cried out with the biggest grin. You leaned forward and kissed him softly on his cheek. His stubble gently scratching your soft, plump lips. His cheeks barely flushed as his smirk transformed into a smile and a small chuckle left his throat. He took a moment to memorize the feeling of your lips for later.

If that’s all it took to make his little Bonnie proud. He’d search every haystack for your needle in a heartbeat. You were his everything, he’d wait until the right moment to tell you. Especially when he was pretty sure the rest of the team was right around the corner listening to them. He’ll confront them later, for now he wants to stay in this moment with you. Watching his sweet hen, praising him. Grinning as she danced around with the needle he found, and even maybe hid.

MY REQUESTS ARE OPEN

Slang translations

Noo jist haud on - Now just hold on there

Heavens to Betsy - southern expression of surprise

Hen- a woman (Scottish term of endearment)

Bonnie - a beautiful woman, Scottish term of endearment typically paired with Bonnie lass

Lass/Lassie- beautiful woman, term of endearment

Shut yer pus - Scottish way of saying hush up, not literally referring to genitalia

Does a bear shit in the woods - kinda like a sarcastic response of “duh.” Whenever you’re asked a question. Hard concept to explain but I hope it’s not just me who got this from their southern mama

no bigger than a minnow in a fishing pond - comparison of size

Author’s note: AAAAAAAA I DID IT. I wrote my first fic. Oh my god. I’m so tired but I hope everyone loves this as much as I did. Please go listen to the song as well. It’s “Before He Cheats” by Carrie Underwood

General Taglist (comment to be added) : @glossythor @banana-beans-police

also thank you for the support for the series: @fruitsa1ad

when you’re having a perfect makeup day like especially mascara wise and you have to take it off before bed <<<<<<<<

reading as much fanfic and background lore posts about COD men and calling it research for my country au bc I’m new to the fandom

✨If you receive this, you make somebody happy! if you want to, go on anon and send this to 10 of your followers who make you happy or somebody you think needs cheering up. If you get one back, even better!✨

Brb crying rn. 🥹🫵🏻💐

oh my god. THOR YOU’VE DONEE IT AGAINNNNNMMMM. Phew that was a lot but wow that was beautiful

obedient ; price & ghost

the captain’s cerulean gaze wasn’t the only set of eyes burning a hole into you. while the captain was fantasizing about bending you over his desk and thrusting his cock inside your wet cunt, the lieutenant’s honeyed eyes were staring at you and fantasizing about the exact same thing.

warnings/tags: smut, fem reader, fem anatomy and pronouns, perv simon, fantasizing, voyeur/exhibitionism elements, panty sniffing simon.

notes: dedicated to @sunnynomoar !! the next part will have more of the poly aspect but i figured i’d give you this for right now. thank you for all of your support throughout everything and all of your amazing work for rtc!!!! i love you mwah! intentionally lower case. READ PART 1 BEFORE READING THIS. ghosts pov takes place directly before the price office scene in part 1. part 3 coming soon featuring dp

word count: 3k+

🏷️: @warenai @viylikescats @cassiecasluciluce @divine--serenity @sunnynomoar @lilpothoscuttings @jumbojazzcats93 @krakenbabe @lordlydragon @violet-phantoms (let me know if i forgot to tag you or if you want to be added to my smut tag list)

ghost, whose eyes instinctively gravitated towards you once you were assigned to the task force. how you followed every order to the highest quality, always eager to impress him. how your doe eyes followed him as he spoke, paying close attention to every word he said, every syllable that fell from his lips.

treating every word he spoke like it was gospel. and oh, how he yearned to see you on your knees. worshipping him.

ghost, whose eyes bored into you from the very moment you walked into any room. you could feel his gaze burning into you, his honeyed brown eyes framed by the darkness of eye black and the shadow of his mask. it would make your heart race every time.

ghost, whose eyes would be looking at your hair tied up and out of your face, and imagining his hand buried in the (curls/braids/strands) while he rutted into you. imagining himself gripping your hair in his calloused hand and twisting so it was wrapped around his hand, in a perfect handle. imagining himself pulling your hair until your head was tilted back, his chest pressed flush against your back while his hips slapped against your ass with each thrust.

ghost, who would see you craning your exposed neck as you filled out documents. ghost, whose eyes would trail along the span of your exposed neck and immediately imagine it littered with bruises of different shades and shapes. he would imagine himself biting and sucking into the flesh of your neck, starting with your jaw and down to your collarbone, sucking particularly hard on your pulse point. he imagines himself leaving indentations in your skin, marks serving as evidence from his teeth digging into your flesh.

ghost, who would feel himself getting hard as he imagined biting the crook of your neck while emptying his seed inside your warm cunt. who would imagine himself cursing into your skin, groaning out your name as he bucked into you.

ghost, whose eyes would skim along your body and drink in every plane and curve that made up your frame. ghost, who would see you obediently clasp your hands behind your back, and imagine himself using your hands as a handle when plowing into your tight cunt.

ghost, who would see your shirt ride up reaching for something on a high shelf, exposing a sliver of your stomach and his hands aching to slide underneath your shirt and feel the soft skin of your stomach. before trailing up to cup your tits. the same tits he would fantasize about whenever you would lean down in front of him, giving him a brief view down your shirt. he would catch a glimpse of your cleavage, the tempting dip between your breasts that he just itched to lick between.

ghost, who would see that and instantly imagine jerking off onto your bare tits. slapping the red head of his cock onto your pert nipples. thrusting his cock between your tits while you held them together, ensuring the hold on his cock was tight. he could just imagine you looking up at him with those cute eyes as he fucked your breasts. you sticking your tongue out to lick at the head of his cock whenever he would thrust his hips forward. finally, he would imagine stroking his hard length a few times until he pushed himself over the edge, hips stuttering as he stroked himself through, shooting rope after rope of his cum onto your tits. maybe some even landing on your tongue.

ghost, whose eyes were committing every detail of your face whenever he looked at you. how your doe eyes sparkled as you gazed up at him, looking at your lieutenant as if he hung the moon. lashes fluttering as you blinked up at him. your lips pouting as you focused on something. research, debriefing, or especially when he was leading a training session. you would bite your bottom lip whenever you were particularly focused — he hungered to just smash his lips against yours and bite that sensitive pink flesh himself.

all he could imagine when you stared up at him with those fucking eyes, biting your lip, was you on your knees. sitting pretty and obediently, because you were always so fucking obedient, staring up at him with glossed over eyes and pupils blown wide with lust. he could practically see you kneeling between his outstretched thighs, your arms resting on his clothed thighs as your shaky hands worked at his zipper. he could imagine your pulse thrumming next to your collarbone, heart racing with need and anticipation. he could imagine you biting your plump bottom lip between your teeth as you pull his boxers down and letting his hard cock spring against his stomach.

fuck, he could just imagine your breath hitching at the sight of his cock, just like how your breath hitches when he adjusts your form in the gym, his body pressed against yours.

when you’re working out in the gym is when his self control is tested the most. and of course, he always had the worst luck of running into you at the gym.

which is exactly what happened today.

ghost, whose eyes would be glued onto you for the entire workout session. even as he lifted dumbbells, his eyes would be trained on you through the reflection on the mirror in front of him. as he was doing sit-ups, his eyes would find your form every time he sat up. as he was running on the treadmill, he would look at you. no matter what he was doing, or what you were doing, your lieutenants eyes would be drinking you in.

ghost was forced to watch you start out by stretching — seeing your muscles shift under your compression tank top as you stretched one arm across your torso, pulling it tight with your other arm. he could see the hem of your sports bra through your tank top, and he could see the thin straps sitting on your shoulders.

ghost’s breath hitched when you bent over to pick up a weight from the rack, your ass up while you reached down for the weight. he could see the thin fabric of your panties peek out from your black leggings, and as his eyes traced the lace trim of your white lingerie, all he could think about was yanking your leggings down past your knees. pulling you against him, so his hips were pressed against your ass, his hard cock rubbing against your cunt. he would want to rip the flimsy lace right off you, letting it fall down to your ankles. he would want to palm at your ass, squeezing the ample flesh and gripping you as he eased his cock in.

ghost would find himself imagining you bent over the exact same way while you took his cock, skin slapping against skin as he thrusted in and out. hips rutting into you at a furious pace, moaning at the squeeze of your tight cunt around his cock. bottoming out with every thrust, hitting your cervix and making you cry out.

ghost, who would hear your grunts and breathy sounds as you lifted weights, and his mind would spiral. his mind would fill with sinful scenarios, fueled by the suggestive noises you would make. he would imagine how you’d whine as he rolled his hips, finding a new, deeper angle to thrust into your wet pussy that gripped him so well. “oh my god,” he could just imagine you whimpering as he hits that spongey spot just right, “ghost, right there!” he would chuckle under his mask, a rumble deep from his chest as he hears you beg for more. “yeah? you need your lieutenant to make you feel good?” he would imagine himself teasing you, emphasizing his rank as he set a cruel pace thrusting right against that spot. “fuck!” he would imagine you whining, “yesyesyes. please.”

ghost, who would see you walk over to the treadmill after finishing your lifts and his eyes would be trained on you with every step. every sway of your hips made his cock throb harder in his joggers. he clenched his jaw, trying to stay focused on the dumbbells he was lifting as you started running on the treadmill.

“god-fucking-damn it,” he would curse under his breath as he watched your breasts bounce. with each stride you made on the treadmill, your tits would bounce. your hips would sway.

all he wanted to do was drop the weights on the floor and march over to you. he wanted to pick you up off the treadmill, no doubt making you let out a surprised yelp, and bend you over the bench press.

he wanted to pull your leggings down until they were pooled around your knees, exposing your ass and thighs to him. he wanted to squeeze the plush flesh of your ass, feeling your soft skin against his rough, scarred and calloused hands. he wanted to give your ass a spank, watching it recoil as his palm came down on your skin, and hearing you gasp.

he wanted to feel you squirm as you were bent over, feeling vulnerable and exposed and needy for his touch. he wanted to pull his mask up to his nose, kneel in front of your exposed ass and lick stripes across the soft skin. he wanted to dig his teeth into the plump flesh of your ass, leaving bite marks in the soft skin and marking it as his. he wanted to pull your white panties to the side to reveal your cunt, all soaked and swollen for him, desperate for his attention. he wanted to trace your lips with his finger, teasing you so cruelly by not dipping his fingers in just yet. he wanted to gather your wetness on his fingers and bring it to his lips, savoring the taste of your juices as you squirmed and whined for him to touch you more. he wanted to finally ease two thick fingers inside your tight cunt, feeling it squeeze around him. he wanted to hear you moan his name as he pumped those fingers in and out, in and out. he didn’t want to hear you moan ‘ghost’. not ‘lieutenant’. he wanted to hear you moan his name. simon.

he wanted to hear those wet sounds build as he moved his fingers in and out, using his thumb to rub at the sensitive bundle of nerves in your clit. he wanted to curl his fingers in search of that special spot, that spongey spot that made your hips buck. he wanted to hear every single moan and gasp and whimper that would fall from your lips as he worked you closer to orgasm. he wanted to push you to the edge and feel you coming apart on his hand, thrusting his fingers in at a mean pace until he heard you cry out in pleasure. he wanted to feel you clenching around his fingers as you came.

he would be yanked out of his fantasy when he heard you calling his name.

“lieutenant?” his eyes would dart to you, his heart still hammering in his chest from all the thoughts running in his head.

you had already finished your workout, now you were standing a few feet in front of him with your water bottle in your hand. your duffel bag with a change of clothes was slung over your shoulder. your skin was covered in a sheen of sweat, hair sticking to your forehead from a well spent workout session.

“what is it?” he would force out, trying to avoid your gaze as he recalled all of the images he conjured up in his brain. all of the positions he had conjured up.

“i was just saying that i’m done with my sets, the gym is yours.” you would grin politely at the lieutenant, none the wiser to how much you were occupying his thoughts. or how much you had caused a tent to form in his joggers.

before he knew it, you were heading off to the showers that were attached to the gym. he heard you open a locker, presumably setting your clean clothes in it for after your shower.

the second that he heard the shower faucet turn on, it was as if his body moved on autopilot. he set the weights down on the floor, not bothering to re-rack them. his eyes were glued to the shower room entrance as his legs moved on their own accord.

he closed the distance between the gym and the shower entrance in five seconds flat, his combat boots hitting hard against the gym floor.

before he knew it, he was standing in front of your locker. your new set of clean clothes were placed in the locker — a new sports bra, a tank top, panties and leggings. the showers were a good twenty feet away from the lockers, and your water was still running loudly — so you wouldn’t be able to hear anything he did.

he didn’t even know what he was looking for when he came into the locker room. he just felt this warm, animal need. for you.

suddenly something caught his eye. a pile of dirty clothes sitting on the bench next to your locker. it was the sports bra, tank top and your leggings. laying there on top of those clothes was also your white lace panties.

bingo.

he reached down and plucked the pair of panties from the pile of your dirty clothes, still listening for your shower in case you turned it off.

as he held the fragile fabric in his hand, the same fabric that was on your body only a minute prior, touching your soft skin, he couldn’t help it. he couldn’t help raising the panties to his nose and breathing in. breathing in your musk, your sweat.

ghost, who was now in his locked quarters, grasping tightly at those same panties. ghost, who was laying on his bed with his joggers pulled down just enough to fit his hand down the waistband. ghost, who wasted no time in freeing his cock from his boxers and letting it spring against his stomach.

ghost, who moaned your name as he jerked off.

ghost, who thought of you while he stroked his hard cock. he thought of your pouty lips and how they would look wrapped around his cock. he thought of your doe eyes looking up at him through your lashes, tears welling up and rolling down your cheeks as you choke on his cock.

“bloody hell, fuck.” he moaned.

ghost, who thought of you riding him as he kept stroking his cock. he imagined you straddling him, his hands holding onto your hips and guiding your pace as you grind on his cock. he imagined your breasts bouncing with each grind onto his cock, your nipples swollen and begging to be teased. he imagined himself reaching up and cupping your bare breasts, tweaking your nipple with his thumb. he imagined you throwing your head back in pleasure as you moaned out his name, “simon!”

“fuck, fuck, fuck..” he cursed, chest heaving as he panted.

ghost, who almost came at the thought of you cumming on his cock. the thought of your warm cunt squeezing on his cock as you screamed his name was enough to push him right to the edge. but before he could come to his own release, he brought your panties up to his face again and sniffed the fabric.

ghost, who smelled your scent on the panties and imagined you sitting on his face. he imagined you hovering nervously over his face, tempting him with your sweet cunt — before he finally wrapped his arms around your thighs and pulled you down to sit on his face. he imagined your sharp cry as he dove in, tongue flattening to lick a stripe along your cunt before dipping his tongue inside. he imagined groaning into your pussy, sending vibrations through your core and making you moan even more. he imagined licking every last drop of your juices as if he was in the desert and you were an oasis — drinking you up. he would be sloppy and messy and loud. he would growl into your pussy and hold your hips impossibly close, leaving you unable to squirm or twitch as his strong arms kept you in place. he would pay attention to every little moan, whimper or gasp. every little jerk or buck of your hips that might indicate that you were close. then he would moan into your pussy, encouraging you to cum on his face, to squirt on his tongue.

“go on, cum for me. i know, i know.” would be groaned, almost mockingly so, into your cunt, as his nose rubbed against your swollen clit. then he would wrap his lips around that bundle of nerves and suck gently, pulling cries and moans from your lips as you would cum on his tongue.

as he sniffed your panties and imagined that scenario, ghost felt that knot in his stomach build and build — until it unraveled. and his hips stuttered and jerked and twitched, his cock spurting rope after rope of white cum onto his chest.

ghost, who couldn’t shake any of the images of you from his mind. no matter what he did. whenever he looked at you, he saw the pictures he conjured in his mind — you bent over taking his cock. you on your knees sucking him off. you sitting on his face. you riding him in his quarters.

you. you. you.

he felt like he saw you everywhere. anywhere he could possibly run into you at, he would end up running into you there.

the gym. the conference room. the training facility. the mess hall. the medbay. price’s office.

which is why ghost supposes he shouldn’t be surprised at seeing you in price’s office that day. that’s not what surprised him. it was your.. condition in the captains office that surprised him.

he was just about to knock on price’s door when he saw that it was open just a crack. then he heard something that made his brows furrow under his mask and made his heart skip a beat.

“that alright, love? feel good?” he heard price ask. ghost pressed himself against the wall next to price’s door, making sure he wasn’t seen through the crack. he felt confused at the prospect of price entertaining a fling in his own office. the lieutenant was about to walk away when he heard something else that snagged at his attention. your voice.

“uh-huh,” ghost heard you pant. ghost’s breath hitched as he thought of you writhing under price’s skilled hands. he should leave. he knew that. this was a private moment between the two of you. and price was the captain for god’s sake.

“i bet.” he hears price mutter before he hears the sound of fabric being pulled. then he hears you gasp out, “oh my god.”

“shhh, sweet girl. just let your captain take care of you.” he hears price whisper to you.

ghost couldn’t help himself. he pushed himself off the wall and quietly stepped up to the door. just enough so he could see through the small sliver of space that peeked into the office.

his eyes widened at the sight, and he found himself almost gasping.

you were bent over price’s wooden desk with the man himself pressed up against you. your head was laid on your arms, facing away from the door. your leggings had been pulled down and were pooled around your knees, along with your panties.

“god, you’re a fuckin’ sight. you know that?” he hears price praise you, praising your ass and your cunt. even though ghost couldn’t fully see it, he already wholeheartedly agreed with the captain.

“t-thank you, sir.” ghost heard you whimper, feeling his cock stir in his pants as you thanked price. like the polite, obedient soldier you were.

“thought about this so damn much, doll. thought about you so damn much.” he heard price say, as he watched price spread your ass apart. “this pretty pussy,” ghost heard you gasp. “so fuckin’ wet. dripping.” price ground out, voice all gruff.

ghost could just imagine the shiny, slick juices coating your cunt and dripping down your thighs. it’s all ghost wants, all ghost needs, to just dart inside and lick up all of the mess you were making on your thighs.

“you just need your captain’s touch, huh? need his fingers. his cock.” he heard price all but growl, seeing the captain press himself into you further.

you could only whine in response, squirming against the wooden desk.

“lemme just..,” price finally dips two fingers into your wet cunt, sliding in with ease because of how wet you were, “there ya go. good girl.”

ghost was practically drooling at the sight of price pumping his fingers in and out of your pussy. he could hear the squelch of your juices with every thrust of price’s fingers, mixed with the sweet moans you let out.

it was music to his fucking ears.

“oh my god, captain,” you moaned, all whiny and desperate. your legs twitched as price continued his ministrations on your cunt, his thick fingers working to stretch you out.

“i know, i know.” price crooned in an almost sickly sweet tone, watching you squirm and twitch from the stimulation.

“please, please.” you didn’t even know what you were begging for. more? stop? you just needed to babble, your mind so clouded in lust and pleasure.

“oh, don’t worry, sweet girl. this ain’t over. not by a long shot.” price purrs, easing a third finger in. wearing a smirk on his face as he watches your cunt stretch to accommodate the extra digit.

ghost saw your hips jolt and buck against the wood, overwhelmed at the new intrusion. “fuck,” he heard you mewl as price filled you up with that third finger.

“yeah? how’s that feel?” ghost watched price ask you, knowing full well you wouldn’t be able to answer.

not very coherently, anyway.

“so, f-fuck. good.” you mumble, eyes scrunched shut as your captain plunges his fingers in your cunt over and over. his fingers were so thick, so rough. it felt like using a small toy because of how big his fingers were.

ghost saw price smile, watching his shoulders shake as the captain laughed.

“mmm, good. doin’ so well for me. always so good for me.” price murmurs, staring down at you with his piercing blue eyes.

“always so well behaved. obedient. you deserve to feel good, don’t you?”

you whined at that, still just squirming on the desk.

“yeah.. you deserve to feel so fuckin’ good. you deserve to relax.” price ground out. “so i’m gonna make you feel good, hmm? how’s that sound?” price asked, still not expecting an answer from you as you were too mindless and cloudy with pleasure.

ghost watched as price quickened his speed, thrusting his fingers in your soaking cunt at a furious pace. price leaned down, till his clothed chest was pressed against your back.

“me. i’m gonna make you feel good. not gaz. not soap.” price crooned, his breath hot in your ear.

then price did the unthinkable. his blue eyes darted to ghost. he looked right at ghost, through that little sliver of open space. ghost gasped.

“and not ghost. just me.” ghost watched with wide eyes, feeling frozen in place as price smirked. the fucker smirked while staring right at him.

then price curled his fingers at the perfect angle, making you cry out against the desk.

“yeah, that’s it.” price cooed in your ear as he pumps his fingers right against that spongey spot, all while staring right at ghost.

“price! fuck, i’m gonna—,” you screech as he simultaneously uses his thumb to rub your swollen clit.

“yeah, you can do it. come on, cum for me. yeah, yeah, there you go.” price laughs as you squeeze around his fingers, soaking his hand and dripping down your thighs.

and price did it all while smirking, right at ghost.

©️ glossythor 2023. please do not steal, copy, plagiarize, translate, or repost any of my works without my permission. do not steal any elements of my theme without permission. you can use this work as a scriptfill for gonewildaudios as long as you credit me and link me.

something’s brewing within my little brain with this and southern!reader… like wow.

farm boys