Call of Duty Oneshots

Physical Argument (Pierson Smut!)

"You can't go spend everything on alcohol, William!" you shouted. "We're already tight on money and then you go and do this! For what? A fucking friend?"

He said nothing as he tried to get closer to you. You dodged his movements and stormed off towards the shared bedroom you two had. You didn't want to deal with his pathetic attempts at apologies.

You heard him charge after you, but you made it into the bedroom first. Slamming the door so close in his face the wood probably touched his nose, you fell onto the bed in frustration.

"Excuse me, what the fuck did you just do?"

You strictly sat up as Pierson stormed into the room, his face pinched in rage. His fists were clenched at his sides as if he was trying to restrain himself from doing something he'd regret. His dark eyes were almost black and they glared at you like you'd ruined his entire life.

You'd never seen him this angry...but you kind of liked it.

"I gave you something you deserved, asshole," you retorted, unafraid of him because you knew he'd never intentionally hurt you even when blinded by emotions.

Pierson rushed forwards, forcing you to fall back. But you stayed where you sat in complete defensive mode. There was no way you'd back down to William Pierson.

"You annoy the fuck out of me."

You opened your mouth to spout something back, yet Pierson leaned further towards you and sucked your lips into his. You let out a groan of argumentative retreat and attempted to rip away from him. One hand, of yours, grasped the back of Pierson's tough neck, bringing him closer while the other pushed against his pectoral in denial.

You wanted him, but you didn't want him.

Pierson scraped his teeth against your lower lip, making you reluctantly open your mouth. Before his tongue could invade yours, you shoved yours into his mouth. Pierson fought against your tongue, the warmth of his infiltrating your mouth. You groaned when he scraped his teeth against your sensitive taste buds.

His hands gripped right underneath your armpits, lifting you and throwing you backwards further onto the bed. You refused to be pinned to the bed, attempting to roll away through the kiss. Pierson caught your thigh, bringing it up against his hip.

You harshly bit his lower lip, likely bruising it, and Pierson ripped away with a groan. His eyes flashed with anger and then he gripped your wrists, pinning them above your head in dominance. You wiggled to escape his iron grasp, but he straddled your legs in victory.

Pierson didn't waste time in attacking your neck. You stifled a moan of pleasure when he left love marks along your throat and collarbone. He wasn't only teasing you, but was also trying to get you to symbolically bow down.

Using any leverage you could, you grinned upwards with your hips. Pierson paused, distracted by the unusual movements, and you used that to break away from his hold. Rolling around and pinning him onto his back, you let out a snort of triumph.

Pierson still had the upper hand. He gripped both side of your hips, forcing you to straddle his boner. You held back another choke of surprise and gripped his chest in frustration, faked more than anything.

With muscles of steel, Pierson rolled you along his clothed groin. You bit your tongue in refusal to make a sound, gripping his chest tighter with one hand. The other...it traveled to the hem of your shirt. You extremely despised yourself as you ripped your shirt off over your head and exposed your bare chest; staying at home all day meant you had never put on a bra for the day.