Vesper

john price who uses his size difference to keep you right where you need to be, pressing his body weight on top of you as he fucks you into oblivion.

he's so much bigger, and heavier. you can't even shift a centimeter without having to move him as well, the only reason you're not suffocating is the fact that he's refraining himself from crushing you whole, but definitely not the same for your poor hole.

at this point, you feel so full. so sensitive.

you've pretty much run out of energy, only able to beg for more as he continues relentlessly thrusting into you— reminding you of the immense stamina he's built up over years in the military.

"you can take it right?" he huffs, hand wrapped around your torso tightly, holding you against him. "you're doing so good, darling."

you grit your teeth, whimpering a soft "yes, sir".

that's just the thing he needs to quicken his pace, making your eyes roll back even further than they already were. it barely takes a few minutes before he releases his seed into you, hole clenching around him as you milk him dry.

he normally keeps his hair incredibly short, so it doesn't get uncomfortable after wearing the mask for days at a time. but now that he's home with you, he doesn't. he lets it grow until he's got gentle curls you can grab at while he eats you out.

you love his blonde curls, love how it tries to stick up in every direction when he first wakes up, how it ends up in little rings, the ends pointing in every direction.

you love taming it, brushing through it as he sits on the floor in front of your bed, you behind him with your legs on his shoulders. its a quiet activity, one where he closes his eyes and enjoys it, where you gently hum as he folds your foot.

but then you cut your hair. shorter than he's ever seen it before, you tell him its a fresh change you need. and the expression you wear shows it. you're so damn happy with your short cut.

your husband simply huffs when he runs his fingers through your hair, meeting the ends far too quickly. it disrupts his usual routine, sure, but you're happy with it.

so he's happy with it, too.

and he tells you as much when you climb into his lap and wrap your arms around his neck.

he wraps his arms around you, one travelling up to play with the ends of your hair. he scratches at your scalp and you're putty in his lap.

"be honest, si," you begin and kiss his jaw between every word. "do you like it?"

at first, he's confused. "do i like what?" he asks as you begin playing with his own hair.

"my new hair," you explain, your voice suddenly slow.

he grabs your cheeks until your lips are puckering and stares into your eyes. his brows are furrowed and it has you worried. your husband is worried. it's one of the things you move about him.