every time theres a puddle in your path, simon riley carries you over it.
it started on your first date, when you were wearing this pretty white maxi skirt and a pair of white heels. he's walking beside you in all black, typical.
but you get to a puddle. it's not entirely blocking your path, you could have gone around it. he grunts and picks you up, carrying you safely over the puddle. "there you go, love," he says and puts you down.
you walk everywhere after that with his hand on your back.
the rainy season has become simon riley's favourite. because he gets to pick you up and carry you past any puddle that's even a little bit out of your way.
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content: SMUT MDNI, literally just oral, lil bit of overstimulation, f!reader
John Price eats pussy like it's his last meal on earth and he's been starving for years.
You're lying on the bed, the silk sheets cool behind your back and the plush pillows soft beneath your head as John kisses his way down your body. His lips trace a path down the valley of your breasts, over your stomach and hips until he's settled between your thighs. Two rough, meaty hands keep your legs spread open for him, fingers digging into soft flesh hard enough to bruise.
John presses a kiss against your clit, chuckling at the way your hips twitch at the contact. âThere she is,â he purrs at your pussy, greeting it like itâs an old friend. He gives you one, two kitten licks that almost trick you into thinking that maybe tonight he wonât be so⊠intense.
Then he dives in for real and you know he was just teasing you.
He groans at the taste of you, the sound vibrating through your sensitive flesh and adding to the sensations. His tongue pushes past your folds, eagerly lapping up your juices. John can feel how wet you are, your slick dripping into his moustache and beard. Your fingers tangle in his hair, pulling hard on the strands as your thighs tremble around his face.
One of his hands moves down your leg to your ankle, pushing your leg back to open you up to him even more. âFuckinâ delicious,â he growls, pulling back to look at your blissed out face for a second before going right back to his feast. His lips close around your clit, sucking until youâre squirming and whining. He uses his teeth, just a slight graze that makes you yelp.
He knows that youâre close, doubling down on his efforts. His tongue moves faster, harder as he shakes his head, his nose bumping against your clit with each movement. You know heâs going to give you goddamn beard burn with the way his stubble scrapes against your thighs, but the added friction is just another layer to the pleasure heâs bringing you. He holds you down as your orgasm crashes into you, your high pitched moans mixing with his own grunts as he continues to eat you out and prolong your pleasure.
Even when the wave passes, leaving you trembling and breathing heavily on the bed, John doesnât stop. His cock is so hard that itâs almost painful, his hips rutting against the mattress to try and relieve the ache. You gasp when his tongue flicks your sensitive clit, your hips twitching as overstimulation creeps in. âJohn, I-I canât,â you whine, hands pushing at his head. ââs too much!â
John pulls back, his hand rubbing your thigh. âShh, pretty girl,â he coos, kissing just below your navel. âIâm not finished yet.â You cry out as his mouth descends on you once more, pleasure heating back up inside you.
Your fingers tighten in his hair, no longer trying to push him away but to pull him closer again. You canât deny him his favourite meal⊠not that youâd want to, anyway.
the 141 arenât stupid -- they wouldnât carry a photo of you in their vest or helmet. no name written anywhere, nothing on their body that could potentially trace to a woman back home.
but they all carry something.
simon has a hair tie on his wrist. black, cheap, the kind you buy in packs of fifty and lose all over the damn flat. it sits under the cuff of his glove, biting into his skin, reminding him exactly why he needs to make it home. it always smells like your shampoo for a bit before it starts to smell like his own sweat, he finds himself a new one on the bathroom floor before each deployment.
price wears a watch. itâs not the watch thatâs about you, really. itâs that he started setting the second time zone to match yours. he checks it more than he should, especially at night when he canât sleep and itâs three a.m where he is and eight a.m where you are. heâll think: âsheâll be making coffee, i wonder what she wore to bedâ and thatâs the closest he lets himself get to mixing you with work.
kyle wears a bracelet. itâs thin braided yarn, the kind of thing you learned to make as a kid at camp. you made it on a slow sunday afternoon while he was half-asleep on your thigh. he said âoh, thatâs sick, darling. ta!â, put it on and hasnât taken it off since. itâs absolutely filthy these days. and when it starts to fray, he simply keeps re-knotting it, sometimes johnny has to help get it tight.
johnny carries a folded square of paper thatâs gone so soft it feels like fabric, he keeps it safe in a zipped pocket on his kit. itâs a grocery list in your looping handwriting that youâd left him on the kitchen counter one morning. eggs, soy milk, the good butter, berries, your stupid crisps, wine (red). itâs got a small heart in the corner -- thatâs the most worn bit because he brushes his thumb over it every night.
He always keeps you warm, since heâs a walking space heater.
He always reminds you that you are a gift from nature and that you were sculpted by the Gods and Goddesses alike.
He carves you all sorts of things, ducks, trinkets for the house, ornaments for your hair, heâs just the sweetest thing.
He tries to get you to dance with him, heâs a terrible dancer but the both of you end up laughing and just swaying around like old people do.
Heâs ALWAYS the big the spoon no matter what, he loves holding you.
Heâd take you on walks through the forest near your home and point out flowers, herbs and fungi and tell you all he knew about them.
He tends to pick you and carry you around, a lot. He tells you that such beauty shouldnât strain themselves trying to get from place to place, such a dorky elf.
Heâd also offer piggy back rides if your feet were getting tired on your walks together.
He brings you flowers every morning from his walks in the forest, your house smells like a florist shop and you donât mind it.
He gives the best massages when you say youâve had a stressful day, he doesnât hesitate to rub your shoulders for what seems like hours to help you relax.
He gives the BEST hugs, he squishes you into his body and you literally melt into him.
He smells like pine needles and tree bark with a hint of his natural musk, his smell is addicting and you want to bury yourself in him and never leave.
Heâs always flirting with you, always trying to make you blush.
Heâs loves your domestic side, seeing you do things around the house, cook meals, mending his clothes that split at the sleeves or at the thigh, stirs his loins and he just wants to take you whenever you are doing such things.
He always runs you a bath after your intimate time together, the two of you relax in the hot bath together and enjoy each otherâs company.
Heâs loud in bed, grunting, moaning panting, growling, praising, you name it.
He wants to be a dad one day and if youâre able to have children, he religiously breeds you. (With consent of course)
can't stop thinking about waking up in the middle of the night from a bad dream just to feel your lovers arms wrapped firmly around you, cradling you as you sleep. the contentment on their face as they hold you tight is enough to start relaxing you and you snuggle in closer. the movement stirs them a little and they pull you in tighter, their arms wrapping around you like a vice now. they try their best to protect you, to ward off all the negativity or harm intended your way, but they know they can only do so much when it's your own mind playing tricks on you. so they tuck your head against their chest, your cheek pressed directly above where their heartbeat begins to thrum melodically in your ear - the soothing rhythm reminding you that they're there with you. eventually, it's the reassurance and the soft coos of their gentle loving that eases you back into your slumber, all whilst remaining in the safe haven of their embrace.
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Not related to any current events, just something I promised a very special group of people.
Merry Christmas, spouses!
Soft Dom Gale Dekarios x f!reader; Professor ending, home in Waterdeep, summer heat, lots of penned up excitement; praise, bodywriting/worship
4,2k words
Read on AO3
You knew Waterdhavian summers would be warmer than those in Baldurâs Gate, but you hadnât quite grasped how much warmer. No one had warned you that the heat could feel this oppressive, like being wrapped in a damp, sticky blanket that refused to let go.
For the first few days, the shutters of the tower remained closed in a futile attempt to keep the warmth at bay. Gale, to his credit, employed every arcane trick he knew to cool the roomsâconjured drafts, chilled stones, even an enchantment or twoâbut by the end of the week, even he conceded defeat.
You spent most of your time in the library by then, languid and drowsy, while a few mage hands dutifully waved fans to simulate the idea of a breeze. Your clothingâwhat little of it you toleratedâwas perpetually damp with sweat, clinging to your skin before you gave up on modesty altogether.
Gale, ever the gentleman, grew visibly restless. His longing had always been tender, worn openly on his sleeve, but lately it took on an edgeâhis kisses lingered far longer, his breathing quickened whenever your lips parted. His hands, once a constant presence, now hovered in careful restraint; you had both agreed that the heat made touch unbearable.
And yet, in that suffocating warmth, the distance between you became its own kind of acheâone far more difficult to endure than the summer itself.
The sun had only just dipped below the horizon, leaving the sky painted in soft strokes of violet and dying gold. You lay stretched out on your stomach across a blanket on the balcony, utterly bare, as unadorned as the evening breeze that swept lazily across your skin. Warmâtoo warm stillâbut the faint touch of wind made it bearable, cooling the light sheen of sweat that had gathered along your spine.
Your head rested on your folded arms, eyes half-lidded, and you let out a long, quiet sigh. Not quite relief, but something close. The kind of exhale that came when the heat finally loosened its grip, when the world felt slow enough to simply exist in your own skin.
Then you heard Galeâs familiar footfall on the stairs. The gentle creak of the library door. Andâmost telling of allâthe sudden stop. The silence. The way even the air seemed to pause.
His breath hitched audibly.
âMy loveâŠâ he whispered, the words soft, but weighted with awe and unmistakable arousal.
You couldnât help but smile. Without opening your eyes, you chuckled. âEnjoying the view?â
âOh, you have no idea."
That toneâlower than usual, richer, threaded with both reverence and something darker, hungrierâsent a slow shiver down your spine despite the heat.
You lifted your head and finally glanced back over your shoulder.
Gale stood frozen in the doorway, lips parted, eyes blown wide. He wasnât even pretending not to stareâhis gaze roamed your body with unabashed wonder, like he was trying to memorize every sun-kissed curve, every line, every breath you took.
He swallowed hard, visibly, tryingâand failingâto summon his composure. His attempted smile came out crooked, sheepish, utterly endearing.
And something in you pulled taut in response.
Not tension from discomfort. It was longing, raw and immediate. The kind that tightened low in your belly and softened your chest all at once. You missed him. You had missed his hands, his warmth, the way he sighed and moaned into your mouth.
You missed the way he looked at you like this.
You missed being wanted exactly like this.
The hunger in his gaze said he had missed you too.
You pushed against the blanket, attempting to lift yourself onto your elbows, but Gale was quicker.
âNoâdonât move. Please.â
The urgency in his voice froze you instantly. You let yourself sink back down with a soft laugh. âAlrightâŠâ
Gale stepped closer and then he sank to his knees beside you. The breath he released was almost a tremor. His hand hovered for a moment â you could feel the heat radiating off it â before his fingertips finally brushed your shoulder.
The touch was featherlight, barely there, yet it sent heat rippling across your skin.
Slowlyâachingly slowlyâhis fingers traced a single, delicate line down the length of your spine. All the way to the small of your back. Then up again, following the curve of bone and muscle with a care that felt almost worshipful.
It took everything in you not to shudder. Not to moan. Not to melt into the blanket.
Gale inhaled sharply, as if your silence required his own restraint. He leaned closer, his breath ghosting warmly over your ear.
âI missed you,â he murmured â quiet, raw, the confession slipping out as though he hadnât meant to say it aloud.
Your eyes fluttered. Your heartbeat stuttered.
âI miss you too."
His fingers continued their slow, careful exploration. Down your spine again⊠then up, pausing between your shoulder blades, tracing the shape of you like you were a constellation he had been deprived of far too long.
âYou feel⊠gods,â Gale whispered, breath catching, âyou feel good.â
âYou feel good,â you echoed, sinking into the truth of itâinto the weight of his gaze, the gentleness of his touch, the quiet hunger pulsing beneath both.
And for a long, suspended moment, neither of you said anything more.
He simply touched you, his breath caught somewhere between awe and longing, while the last light of sunset gilded your skin in gold and pulled him further, deeper into the orbit he had never truly left.
You felt everything in his touchâhis longing, his restraint, the trembling edge of want he tried so very hard to hide. His fingertips traced the slope of your back with maddening delicacy, always stopping just at the curve where your spine dipped. Never lower. Never giving you the touch you truly craved.
He wasnât simply holding himself back.
He was toying with you.
Intentional. Controlled. Knowing.
Each time his hand drifted downward, you shiftedâsubtly, innocentlyâspreading your legs just a little wider, offering just a little more of yourself. But Gale resisted every invitation with infuriating composure.
You breathed out a long, aching sigh, your body humming with want⊠and though you couldnât see his face, you could feel the smirk curving his lips. That soft pull of amusement in the way his fingertips lingered on your skin. The warmth in his breath as he leaned just a little closer, yet still not close enough.
He dragged this out deliberately.
Touching you everywhere except where you needed himâstroking the length of your spine, brushing the slope of your waist, dipping beneath your ribs with maddening tenderness. It was a dance of tension and tease, a slow burn he was clearly savoring. A delicate game the two of you often played, but today, desire was clouding every thought in your mind.
You wanted him.
All of him.
Now.
But you held on for one last moment, one last breath of patience before your resolve slipped. Your voice came soft, warm, edged with plea,
âIâm yours."
Galeâs breath hitched audibly. The sound tightened everything inside you.
âI know, my love,â he murmured. âSo beautifully patient for meâŠâ
You exhaled shakily, nodding into the blanket. âBut itâs hard.â
âI know,â he replied, the smile undeniable in his voice. His fingers grazed higher up your back, featherlight, infuriating. âYouâre doing so well for me.â
It was pure, delicious torment now.
A game of control you both understood.
He teased because he could.
You trembled because you wanted to.
And beneath the gentle cadence of his voice, beneath the warmth of his touch, you could feel the promise.
You shifted your hips again, a subtle, instinctive plea for more, for him, but the moment you tried to push yourself up onto your elbows, Galeâs hand slid between your shoulder blades. He pressed down with gentle firmness, pinning you exactly where you were.
âStay down."
This command sent heat rushing through you so fast it stole your breath.
âYes, Sir,â you replied, teasing but breathless, unable to hide the tremor in your voice.
Galeâs answer was a soft, devastating kiss pressed to your shoulder. No more than a brush of lips, but it burned through you all the same. And then he rose, his warmth leaving your back as he stepped inside.
You heard him moving around the room, the faint sound of drawers, objects shifting, the small, familiar clink of glass against wood. Whatever he was retrieving, he did so with the calm purpose that only made your anticipation tighten.
When he returned, his footsteps were deliberate, measured. You could feel him before he touched youâhis presence heavier. And hungrier.
âYou know I love you."
You chuckled softly into the blanket. âI love you too.â
But something in him shifted with your answer. A deeper note entered his voice, curling through the air like smoke.
âI love your body,â he continued, tone dropping, each word sinking into your skin before his hand even found you. âEvery line⊠every curveâŠâ
And thenâfinallyâhis fingers slipped to your hips, gliding lower with slow, deliberate appreciation before settling on the firm curve of your backside. His touch was confident, sure, claiming without aggression, full of the longing heâd been holding back.
A soft sound escaped you, somewhere between sigh and relief.
Gale chuckled, low and pleased, the sound vibrating through your entire spine.
âThe way your skin dips hereâŠâ he murmured, tracing the contours of your waist with languid, exploratory lines. You could feel his breath hovering just above your lower back. âThe way your body fits perfectly into my handsâŠâ
His palm curved over you as though made for that purpose aloneâholding, appreciating, savoring.
âYou are,â he finished,, âa masterpiece Iâll never tire of studying.â
Every word settled into you like a warm weight, grounding and electrifying all at once.
And you stayed exactly where heâd placed youâheart open, skin tingling, breathing slow and deliberateâbecause with Gale, surrender never felt like loss. It felt like being seen.
You felt it before you understood it: a faint, feather-light sensation gliding across your back.
Not his fingers.
Not his breath.
Something softer. Something that tickled just enough to make your muscles twitch.
Fabric, you realized. A thin strip of cloth dragged with meticulous care.
Gale moved it slowly, shaping strokes across your bare skin with the precision of a scholar. Each pass sent a warm shiver spiraling down your spine, his silence only heightening the anticipation coiling in your belly.
He paused for a heartbeat, and then, in his most ceremonious tone, the one he reserved for grand pronouncements and theatrical flair, he declared, âYou areâŠâ
A tiny hitch of amusement colored his voice, rich and warm against the evening breeze.
The cloth traced another sweeping curve across your back.
ââŠmine.â
He emphasized the last wordâdeep, resonant, tender and possessive all at once.
The syllable landed on your skin like a kiss made of sound.
Only then did the meaning settle, blooming through you with heat and quiet awe.
He had written it. He had written the word onto your back. Carefully, lovingly, as though you were parchment and he was inscribing a truth that had lived in him far longer than his voice admitted.
The tickling stopped, but the warmth lingered, spreading through your chest, your stomach, your breath.
And you couldnât help the soft exhale that escaped you, a sound halfway between a sigh and something far more surrendered.
âI am yours,â you breathed, though the words trembled on your tongue. Not from fear, but from the quiet, overwhelming serenity that came with saying them.
With meaning them.
There was a profound peace in that surrender, in offering the most tender, hidden parts of yourself to the one man who touched you with nothing but devotion and love.
A giving-over of trust as intimate as any kiss.
You barely had time to exhale before Galeâs lips found the small of your backâa warm, reverent press that made your breath catch.
Then the faint graze of his teeth followed, gentle but claiming, little nips that traced a path along the curve of your spine, down to the soft swell of your backside.
Each touch was loving and edged with the slightest hint of hunger.
Every time his teeth closed around your skin in the faintest bite, he hummed against youâa low, pleased sound that vibrated straight through your bones into your loins.
âGaleâŠâ
âSo good for me, my love,â he murmured against your skin, lips never waveringâwarm breath ghosting over your skin, grounding and undoing you in equal measure.
His hands drifted lazily up the insides of your thighs, mapping you with that unhurried certainty only he possessed.
Each stroke was light and conscious, coaxing rather than claiming, teasing you open with nothing more than touch and the unwavering promise of his affection.
Meanwhile, his mouth continued its devastating pilgrimageâsoft kisses melting into feather-light nips, his lips brushing along sensitive skin with all the tenderness of a man savoring a rare and precious delicacy.
Every gentle scrape of his teeth sent a warm shiver unfurling through your entire body, each kiss setting your nerves sparking in quiet anticipation.
Gale touched you with the patience of someone who cherished every inch of you, and the confidence of someone who knewâwithout questionâthat you welcomed every bit of his attention.
When he finally, finally let his fingers slip between your thighsâtracing you, parting you, touching youâ the sound that tore from your lips was nothing short of a plea.
A desperate, trembling whine you had no hope of containing.
Your hips buckled helplessly toward him, chasing his touch with the instinctive urgency of someone who had been held on the edge far too long.
âPatience.â
Galeâs voice sharpened, a single word that vibrated straight through you as his fingers only glided over you, maddeningly gentle.
You gasped, voice breaking.
âPleaseâŠâ
âI know, my love,â he soothed, his tone turning molten, full of reverence and quiet command. âI know. Youâre doing so well for me.â
His fingers stroke you once more, your hips buckling into his touch.
âYou can take this a little longer for me.â
âI canâtâŠâ you whined, the sound thin and trembling, hips shifting helplessly toward his hand, chasing even the slightest increase in pressureâanything to get more of him, more of that touch that already had your body unraveling.
âYou can,â Gale murmured, the words low and firm, heat simmering beneath the command, âand you will.â
The whine that tore from your throat was nearly desperate. You shifted againâonly a fraction, only enough to try and coax more from himâbefore forcing your eyes open.
And gods, he was devastating.
His robe hung open around his waist, baring the breadth of his chest. A sheen of sweat caught the dying light, tracing every line of muscle and making him look half-sculpted, half-unmade. His breath came hard and uneven, lips parted, pupils blown wideânot from control, but from the effort of holding it.
He was aroused. Visibly, powerfully, almost painfully so.
And yet he still held himself backâfor you.
For the game. For this exquisite, slow-burn torture he loved almost as much as he loved you.
Your gaze finally met his, and the moment your eyes locked, something in him cracked.
Gale dropped lower, bracing himself on one hand beside you. The other still hovered over the heat of your body, his feather-light touch dragging you to the very brink without ever letting you fall.
But when you pulled him down into a fierce, hungry kiss, when your lips crashed together with all the longing and ache that had been pulling you apart, his control shattered beautifully.
His free hand clamped onto you, possessive in its certainty, knowing exactly where to hold, exactly how to draw you closer. His mouth moved over yours with a kind of helpless devotion, breath hot, kiss unrestrained.
You moaned into him, your breath breaking against his lips as the world dissolved to heat and wanting. Gale chuckled softly, the sound dark and delighted, his tongue brushing teasingly against yours in a way that sent your pulse spiraling, but his fingers never wavering.
âI canât wait,â you gasped between kisses, fingers trembling as they tangled in his hair. âI need you.â
âYou have meââ
He barely got the words out before you shifted beneath him, lifting your hips just enough to slide your hand down and free him from the confines of his pants and the sharp, ragged sound he made as you touched him was worth every second of restraint heâd demanded from you.
You moved before he could even gather another breath.
Diving down, you took him into your mouth in one hungry, fluid motionâlips parted, breath hot against his skin as you engulfed him as deeply as your body allowed. The effect was immediate. Gale gaspedâsharp, startled, almost losing his balance as his balance buckled beneath the wave of pure sensation.
He steadied himself only barely, one hand braced against the wall, the other flying to your hair as though he needed somethingâanythingâto anchor him through the shock of pleasure.
You showed him no mercy.
You needed him, needed the taste of him, the weight of him, the feel of him twitching against your tongue. Every instinct in your body screamed to take, to savor, to drown in him.
He tasted faintly of saltâsweat, desire, the first trace of arousal that always stirred in him the moment you touched him like this. Familiar, intimate, grounding in a way that made your whole body heat with wanting.
âMyâmy loveâ!â It started as a surprised cry and broke instantly into a helpless, shuddering moan that vibrated all the way through him and you. The sound alone made your lips curl into a wicked, satisfied smile.
You worked him slowly at firstâmeasured pressure, your tongue gliding along the sensitive underside of him with sinful precision, drawing more of those beautiful, breathless noises from his lips. When his hips jerked forward, you rewarded him by adding your hand, stroking what your mouth couldnât reach, syncing your movements in a way that made him groan, low and unrestrained.
âGodsââ he choked out, his voice rough with disbelief and pleasure. His fingers slid deeper into your hair, not to guide you, but because he had nowhere else to put the sheer desperation coursing through him. He was trembling. Completely undone by his touch and your longing. His breath came in ragged bursts, every exhale uneven, every inhale sharp.
Gale was usually composed, articulate, deliberate. Now?
He was nothing but longing and need, shuddering under your touch, helpless in the best possible way.
And you reveled in every moment of it.
You worked him for as long as your trembling restraint allowed, savoring every sound you drew from himâthose ragged gasps, those helpless moans, the way his breath kept catching in his throat as if the pleasure you gave him stole his ability to speak. Each noise fed your hunger, made your own need pulse sharper, hotter, harder to contain.
But eventually, desire became too muchâtoo consuming, too unbearable to remain separated from him for even a heartbeat longer. You needed him inside you. Needed the deep, anchoring warmth of him, needed to feel him at your very center.
So you let him slip from your mouth with a soft, wet gasp, your hand stroking him in the same steady, relentless rhythm. His entire body shuddered at the loss of your lips, a desperate noise slipping from him as you rose.
You shifted forward, knees bracketing his hips, your breath shaking with anticipation. Gale understood immediatelyâinstinctivelyâdespite the dazed heaviness in his eyes. His hands flew to your hips, guiding you with careful strength, steadying you as you aligned yourself with him, helping you settle over him with a touch that trembled from wanting.
You sank into a kiss at the same moment you sank onto him. His mouth opened under yours willingly, hungrily, one of his hands sliding up your spine, the other cradling your jaw as though he needed to feel every part of you at once.
Your breath caught against his lips, a shuddering exhale mixing with his own, the heat of him filling you until your mind dissolved into nothing but the sensation of him and the fire connecting your bodies.
âI love you,â you moaned into his mouth.
Galeâs answering sound wasnât a word but something deeper, something reverent, his entire body trembling as he pulled you closer, as if he could fuse you to him, as if the force of his love alone might hold you together.
âMine,â Gale managed, the word torn from somewhere deep in his chest. His hips bucked up helplessly, driving into you with a force that made your breath break, and you met him with the same desperate urgency. The world around you vanished. There was only this. Only him inside you, filling you, claiming you as wholly as you claimed him in return.
Nothing else mattered.
Nothing else existed.
Only the reverent hunger binding you together; love braided with longing, lust entwined with devotion.
âYours,â you breathed back. âAlways yours.â
And it was the truthânot a vow, not a promise, but a simple, undeniable fact spoken into the space between your bodies.
You moved together in a rhythm that felt older than breath, older than thought: pulling yourself up and letting him draw you back down, meeting him stroke for desperate stroke. It was no longer just intimacy. It was a merging, a becoming, something raw and sacred and exquisitely human. A need met, a longing answered, a truth confessed not in words but in every shuddering motion.
You felt him tense beneath you, felt the subtle shifts in his body with each thrustâhis restraint fraying at the edges, his composure slipping. Even as he rocked up into you, unravelling, he held himself back with shaking control, refusing to end things too quickly, refusing to pull you into your own release before heâd coaxed every ounce of pleasure from you.
He breathed you in like a prayer between kisses: longing pressed to your lips, devotion trailing down your throat, his hands gripping your hips with a tenderness that contrasted the urgency of his movements. Every push into you came with a soft, helpless sound; every retreat came with a low groan of restraint, as though he were fighting his entire body not to fall apart yet.
He was tasting you even as he worshipped you, teasing and touching and drawing you closer to the edge with each careful, trembling motion.
And gods, you could feel how close he was.
How close you both were.
âGood heavens, Mr. Dekarios! When did this library of study and arcane mastery turn into a den of sin?!â
Taraâs voice hit the balcony like a thunderbolt, and both of you froze mid-movementâevery muscle locking, every breath snagging in your throat. It felt exactly like someone had upended a bucket of ice water over your intertwined bodies.
For a heartbeat, neither of you moved. Neither of you breathed.
You froze, utterly horrified, as the realization struck you with the force of a falling tower: Tara could read Galeâs writing on your bare back.
Your gaze snapped to Galeâs at the exact same moment he seemed to arrive at the same dreadful conclusion. His eyes widened, scandalized, mortified, and thenâswift as a spell well-practicedâhis hand darted for the nearest blanket, quickly covering you with it.
âYour penmanship is atrocious!â she scolded, scandalized in that uniquely Tara way that blended outrage with motherly concern. âTruly abysmal! What would your mother say?!â
Gale made a sound somewhere between a strangled choke and a mortified gasp. His entire face went crimson so fast you swore you could feel the heat of shame radiating off him.
âTâTara!â he sputtered. âWe had, if memory serves, come to an agreement that you would announce your arrival upon moving into Motherâs estate, did we not?â
Still straddling him, you slapped a hand over your mouth to keep from laughing hysterically. Your entire body shookânot from pleasure anymore, but from trying desperately not to scream into the night with second-hand embarrassment.
You dared to glance over your shoulder, adjusting the blanket now covering you.
Tara hovered at the doorway, ears flattened, wings puffed out in complete outrage, squinting at your now covered back.
âOh Mystra preserve me,â Gale groaned, dropping his head back onto the floor and covering his face with his hands. âI cannotâTara, go.â
âI willâonce you fix that handwriting!â she sniffed, then finally vanished in a flutter of indignant feathers.
You collapsed forward onto Galeâs chest, wheezing with suppressed laughter, while he lay there in stunned horror, hands still covering his face.
âNever,â you whispered between giggles, ânever again will you live this down.â
Gale only let out a long, pitiful groan.
Would you like some more? This way please....
tags as ordered @faerybella219 @whiskeyskin @asorceresswrites @aerin67 @fireflyeyes @saylofwaterdeep
something something and itâs hybrid!john price who is huffing and grunting after his short hibernation ends, hungry and grumpy, searching for his beloved wife in your shared bedroom (you just sleep on the couch in the living room, not wanting to disturb his big bear sleepy time).
warnings: established relationship, hybrid au, bear!john price, fluff, f!reader
since winter is almost over, john received ten paid leave days, already planning to spend his free time with you, at home. better in bed though. he missed you like hell when he was on duty, wanting to be in your warm embrace more than anything else.
this winter was harsh for the team. though they all were hybrids, only john had the tendency to hibernate. despite the fact that the world has changed, everyone has plenty of food and a warm home to stay, captainâs body just screamed for the good hibernation. but he just couldnât rest that easily! being a SAS captain is about responsibilities. thereâs no time to rest, a lot of work needs to be done. besides, short naps in the afternoon in his office arenât that badâ
eventually they sent him home a few days later after that long stressful operation and even the longer day of the countless briefings, considering there were no urgent missions or tones of paperwork, so he can spend time with his family.
fucking finally.
the moment you saw him, tired and heavy-eyed, you knew your own mission was making him hibernate no matter what.
poor, poor john! he must be so tired, you thought.
you were cooing around him like heâs your baby right after he stepped inside your cozy warm house, feeding him a lot of nutritious homemade food, massaging his aching muscles, kissing his cheeks and neck, lulling him into sleeping delight, even though you had supper just a few moments ago!
âcâmon, john. let me take you to bed, yeah?â
âbut love, i wanted to help ya with dishesââ
âitâs okay. you need to restâ, you led him to the bedroom slowly, tucking him under the warmest blankets you have.
surrounded with such care and affection, feeling safe and secure, he fell into a deep slumber immediately.
â
for a moment he felt like a lost child, not knowing how he ended up here, being tucked into the blanket, curtains covered and room is dark. but then he realized that he actually hibernated. you were there, lulling him into a deep sleep so easily, your voice and your scent always helps him to feel so much better. ah, he doesnât deserve you.
after a few minutes of intensive yawning and groaning he slowly makes his way into the bathroom to do his own business, washing his hands, brushing teeth and doing the rest of his self care routine.
later you find him sitting on the bed, curtains half-open, trying to put his right sock on, too drowsy to do it fast, so he just takes his time. he even didnât notice you entered the room.
you smiled softly as you sat next to him, kissing his cheek.
âhi, my big bearâŠâ you murmur softly. you can smell a strong scent of his mint aftershave and deodorant.
âmorninâ, doveâŠâ his voice is deep and coarse from sleeping, but he gives you the sweetest smile in return, too happy to see you. his sock is already forgotten on the floor as he nuzzles your neck lazily, seeking the warmth and comfort he needs the most.
you fell on the bedsheets with a soft giggle, defeated by such affection and love.
âhow is my lovely bear doing?.. does your belly feel okay?â you ask initially, caressing his back with one hand and ruffling his hair with another one. he swears you know more about his hybridâs body than he does.
âyeahââ he grunts. ââm good, love⊠how long have i been sleepinâ?â
âseven days and a halfâ, you murmur as you kiss his ear.
âfuck⊠should spent my days off with ya, not sleepinâ like a dead manâ.
you laugh quietly, running your hands over his sides now. not that prominent as you remember. you can work with it later.
âjohn, iâm fine. you needed that rest, have been working so hardâ, you kiss his neck softly. âbesides, you looked so peaceful and cute, my pretty bearâ, your giggles fill the bedroom and he smiles too, feeling more wakened than before.
âwas i snorinâ?â an awkward smile bloomed on his face. you laughed again, rolling your eyes.
âduhâ, you chuckle softly and he groans. âlike a tractorâ.
ââm sorry, lovieâŠâ he mutters, the tips of his ears turn pink. âdidnât mean to bother you, reallyâ.
âyou didnât bother me at all, silly. i was pretty sure that my steps were too loud, so i could wake you up easily⊠iâm glad youâre okay and youâre home⊠with me, my poor little teddy bearâ, you sniffed him. âyou smell so good though. like honeyâ.
âjust used thaâ new shower gel ya brought. ya like it that much?â
you hum, nuzzling your nose further into his neck, playfully trying to bite him. he squeezes his waist tighter, rolling you over just to pin you underneath him.
âya should use this gel too. want ya to smell like honey, so i can taste ya all day long, though i love yer natural scent the mostâ, he says, pawing at your sides now, trying to get rid of your hoodie. ânah, you better smell like meâ god, need youâ missed your skin and this delicious bodyâ, you smirk at his sweet nothings.
god, heâs so needy. but you have your own plans for now.
âbehave, john. no dessert before i cook you a proper dinner, johnâ, he groans almost immediately at your request. âi need your guts to be happy, yeah? should make a soup or whateverââ you smile fondly with hearts in your eyes as you kiss his nose.
this man is your bear. he's hairy like one, big like oneâhe loves to touch you and all that, but i don't think he'd be big on physical touch. he's someone who demonstrates love with acts of service and respect; but also this guy heats up quite quickly.
he'll never decline a deep hug or you sitting in his lap while you two laze around. you're his wife, he wants you at his sideâbut to sleep? you already sleep with him in bed, lady. he'll keep an arm over your hip if you really want to be held to sleep, but if you really want to be spooning you'll need to invest in a ceiling fan lest he be kept all night sweating into your back. he's an old man, he needs his beauty sleep.
âjohnny mactavish.
he's the one that made me want to write this. johnny is a pure simp, he looooves women. especially his woman. he loves to show you off with a hand on your waist and constantly is kissing at your cheek because he just loves you so much!
i saw on a tiktok by #1 gaz lover that they would headcannon him chronically falling asleep during movies and i 100% agree. but the thing is he's so contagious like that and it causes you to fall asleep as well sometimes. it's a theme with this man, any still moment leads him to want to sleep and it has to be with him spooning you or holding you. he's really big on you laying on top of him too because then you become his personal blanket! it's either that, or you're sleeping with your face on his chest with his arm wrapped around your waist.
and he swears he sleeps better when you scratch his mohawk!
âsimon riley.
this man yearns to be held.
at the beginning of your relationship, it took an odd amount of time for him to actually sleep with or around you. after sex he'd only snooze off for like an hour and then he's just waiting for you to wake up or leaves because he's really awkward like that. and then when he finally began to sleep with you he would struggle staying asleep because of the nightmares.
he refused to scare you more than once when he triedâbut what really helped him get better was when he figured out he actually slept longer and calmer when you held him, or in the very least spooned him. he doesn't really know why, or he does but he's too embarrassed to admit he feels safe when he's held like a baby by his lady. it's his melatonin now, caress your finger nails down his back and let him lay his head into your neck or chest and he's out like a light. sometimes you wake up struggling to breathe because he'll literally be sleeping on top of you like a dog.
when you're unavailable he finds the most recently worn hoodie of yours and puts it over a pillow to sleep because even your scent soothes him.
âkyle garrick.
he's so casual with the cuddling. this guy could probably be with you at a friend's house and you'll have to be thigh to thigh with his arm wrapped around your shoulders. he becomes so much more zen and loves to hear you talk during this time. he's also kinda always shirtless when he's home so he tries to take your clothes off to cuddle "skin to skin" but you can't tell if he's just trying to get you naked.
he's like priceâhe needs a cool breeze to sleep, so blankets are really important to him. he'll change his bedsheets and blankets every season too, but he doesn't let his need for coolness to stop him from cuddling with you. he loves to have you lay your head on his bicep or chest with his arm wrapped around you or rubbing somewhere over your skin. at least his bicep will be supporting you while you both sleep.
sometimes i think about that gruff, old man, john price. so overworked. dutiful to his responsibilities as a leader, the head, the guiderâŠhe surely does not lack in his responsibilities. no, he surely takes care of everyone around him like the leading man he is.
but, it does create a question: when is he never in duty? when is he ever taking care of himself, doing what he wants, and not whats best for the team? what does john price do? alone?
alone, he finds solace in you, his sweet partner, a smile who radiates warmth from anywhere. he can find you anywhere; your signature hair that you never seem to let go from, your favorite shoes that you tend to wear, your laugh.
alone, he comes back from missions, sometimes at night, opening the dorm of your house. alone, he instantly searches for a reminder of you; your comfort blanket, the added decorations in the room because you said âa house cannot be boring!!â
alone, he closes the door, stripping off his shoes, lazily throwing them by the side of the door. he throws anything he has on him down, marching slowly up the stairs. heâs tiredâthe only thing he needs, really, is you.
alone, he walks into your shared bedroom, and pauses. heâs found you, sprawled across the bed, sheets spread haphazardly over you. thereâs the familiar sound of the fanâyou usually sleep with it on every nightâit makes his lips curl upward just a bit.
it doesnât take long after he strips out of his clothes from earlier his body finds purchase with you; he lays next to you, a small grumble leaving his throat from his throat from him sliding into the bed. itâs been a long day.
you slightly stir, opening your arms slightly. he can hear the soft sound of your music you forget to turn off sometimes before you sleepâthis is one of those timesâhe simply lets out a gruff chuckle, pressing a soft kiss of your cheek.
that makes you stir, eyes fluttering, âjohn?â
âsweetheart,â he responds, âiâve missed you.â
what john price wants is youâwhen he is alone, and simply just a man, stripped bare of his titles, standing in front of no one, he only needs you.
together, you two wrap around each other in any way that your limbs deemed appropriate, falling asleep in each otherâs comfort.
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It was a Saturday and you felt a little bad for going out. It was one of those rare occasions where the boys had time off. But it was your friendâs birthday and they had insisted it was fine that you went, and admittedly you were having a great time.
You were maybe a few too many drinks in, but you were always very responsible. So you drank some water and went to the bathroom before your group stumbled outside to switch bars. Despite your efforts, you were unbalanced and giggly and couldnât feel the cold at all.
Your friends were chatting, split into groups of two or three to hold each other as you started to walk to the next destination. Youâre only temporarily taken out of your revelry at your phone buzzing.
âHope youâre having a good time, bug.â It read.
Your smile widened. Ugh. You love Kyle. You tuck your phone into your arm so your hands are free to grab your friend, excited to continue your conversation and talk about how much you love your partners. What you donât notice, however, is that you accidentally sent him your location with no explanation.
Kyle wasnât necessarily expecting a response, he knew youâd be busy dancing probably. So his heart did drop at the message containing a pin for your location.
He stood immediately, startling Johnny whose head was on his lap.
âHuhââ
âUp, weâre going.â He said in a tone that Johnny knew meant business, so he didnât question further, just got up and got ready for whatever was next.
Were they beating someone up? Did they get called in for an emergency mission? He didnât know, he just scrambled to put his boots on.
Kyle moves with purpose to the kitchen where John is leaning his hip on the countertop, beer in hand, keeping Simon company as he makes a grilled cheese.
John sees his expression and stands to attention. Kyle flips his phone to show the text, and John is immediatley in business mode too.
âSimon, keys.â John starts toward to safe where they keep their moreâŠdangerous tools.
Simon saw their faces and was also put into action mode despite not knowing what the situation was. He spares a final sad glance at his sandwich before going to get the car keys.
Before anymore words are exchanged, theyâre all piled into the car, more armed than probably necessary. But where you were involved, John wasnât willing to take any chances.
Simonâs driving with Kyle in shotgun, directing him to the pin you sent. Every member of the 141 would ride without context if one of them asked (and they just did), but now knowing it was for you brought tensions up even higher. Simon doesnât want to get ahead of himself, but the idea that you needed help wasnât a situation he liked to imagine. He gripped the wheel harder, foot pressing the pedal to the floor, and just hoped they were there on time.
You were having so much fun.
This new bar had more people in it, and the DJ was better, and their drinks poured heavier. You were jumping around with your friends, trying not to spill too much of your drink as you did.
That is until you hear the guy behind you exclaim âhey man!â and then youâre being flipped around by hands on your shoulders.
Itâs Kyle!
âKyllleeee!!â You throw your arms up, heart clenching. Your boyfriend is here! How much better could this night get?
He steps closer to you, alarm falling off his face and into relief, revealing the rest of your partners behind him. The night could get better!
âHiiii, baby!â You wave to Johnny, stepping into Kyle to hug him.
You frown suddenly. âYou guys werenât invited. You should know better than to come to a birthday party uninvited thatâs rudeââ you stumble over your shoe, but Kyle steadies you.
âHoney, you sent us your location with no context.â John still looks concerned, looking around the bar like some threat will jump out.
You pout. âNo I didnât.â
Kyle shows you his phone. You have to concentrate harder than youâd like to in order to decipher what youâre looking at. You see your contact, him telling you to have fun, and then a pin to your location.
Your mouth opens, you bring your cup up and sip.
âOkay,â Kyle mumbles, grabbing it from you.
You frown but let him take it, âhmmmm, I guess I did. Oopsies!â
A guy stumbles into you, but Kyle has a secure grip on your hips. It doesnât stop Simon from saddling up behind you. One intimidating step toward the guy and heâs scurrying away.
âSiii, donât scare people awayyy,â your head flops back to look at him upside down which makes you giggle.
âHe hit you.â He says it like he should now have the right to kill him. He gets close to you, also grabbing your waist, so now youâre sandwiched between two of your favorite guys.
You hum contentedly until you remember that they arenât supposed to be here.
âHey!â You push away from them both, âno boyfriends allowed at the bar tonight!â
John shakes his head affectionately, âheard, sweetheart. SorryâŠwe got worried you were in trouble.â
The sound of multiple friends going âawwwwâ resonates from behind you.
âDonât encourage them!â You say over your shoulder to your friends, happy to see that they arenât upset with you. âTheyâre way too protective to begin with.â You say quieter, meant only for the four of them. You complain, but you like it. Knowing they would be that ready to defend you if you needed it.
Still, you feel a little bad that they came all the way out here, âsorry for scaring youâŠâ your lip juts out, hand grabbing for Johnâs forearm even though youâre supposed to be getting them out of here.
ââS alright, hen. Ya didnât mean ta.â Johnny pecks your temple. âWeâll get outta your hair.â
They start to walk out, Kyle handing you your drink back.
âWait!â You stop them, ââŠthanks for coming when you thought I needed you.â You smile bashfully.
Gentle - Steve Rogers x Established Relationship Reader đđȘ¶đ„°
Summary: What better way to spend a warm June afternoon in Brooklyn, but underneath Steve Rogers as he softly rails you while a hand-picked playlist plays in the background and the scent of New York street food wafts through an open window.
Contains/Warnings: Fluffy smut, love making, intense eye contact. Steve being a super sensual super soldier and a Taurus man who loves pleasure. Slightly dominant. Faithful boyfriend vibes.
Words: 1,400
A/N: The song is Luxurious by Gwen Stefani. Inspired by a TikTok edit to the same song. Credit to @simplyholl for the headcannon, âHe would have you in missionary and be like, âkeep your eyes on meâ while talking you through it.â
A/N #2: If the cover image makes you uncomfortable, this ain't the fic for you. đđ
SugarâŠ. honeyâŠ. sexy babyâŠ.
When we touch it turns to gold...
Sensitive and delicateâŠ. kinda like a tuber roseâŠ.
A gentle hand traced down your arm, his lips silently speaking to you through soft kisses. Loving whispers asked if you were okay.
If the pace was alright.
If you were too hot.
If you were comfortable with the window open.
Your clothes formed a path leading back to the living room where the afternoon had started with simple kissing on the sofa. From your vantage point on the bed, you could see his jeans. Your sundress. His white t-shirt. Your knickers. You couldnât see your bra.
He lay on top of you, propping himself up on his forearms. The heat from his body was like the sun, searing into your skin and warming you to the very core of your being.
The window was cracked just enough to let cool air in and not enough to waft your moans down to the busy Brooklyn streets below. The sound of traffic filtered up and the scent of hot dogs and ice cream joined the mix. June in New York was pleasantly hot. Just like the man on top of you. Your mind tuned away from your thoughts and tuned into the music drifting in from the living room.
The songs were a love note in themselves. Despite his lack of knowledge of modern technology and the fact he was frozen in time during the release of music over the past 70 years, he took the time to learn how to create an account on the music app and hand-pick the best soundtrack for your love making.
âGod, honey.â
Simple affirmations of pleasure punctuated the warm air of Steveâs apartment like stars on an inky black night.
You had no passage of time. But knowing Steve, it had been at least an hour. Sixty minutes since your clothing fell to the floor and he began exploring every inch of you with his fingers, his lips, his sweet words.
He felt it. He felt everything. The scent of your perfume, the softness of your skin, the tiny creases in your forehead as his teeth grazed your shoulder. Every one of his senses was heightened. A side-effect of the serum and a sure-fire guarantee during alone time with you.
Increased sensitivity wasnât torture during sex. For Steve, he savoured it. He enjoyed the feelings. He lived for the delayed gratification, the moment when finally, eventually, he felt he had worshipped you enough to deserve the feeling of your warmth around him.
He was hard. He had been for quite some time. You could feel his length pressing into your thigh. It was only when you whispered to him that he removed his boxers and tossed them to the floor.
âSteve. I need you. Please.â
âOkay honey.â His forearms were either side of you, his face above yours. âKeep your eyes on me.â
His blue eyes pulled you in, drawing you into a hypnotic calm. You watched his mouth subtly open and his eyelids flutter shut for a fleeting moment as the feeling of entering you washed over him. Within the beating of a butterflyâs wings, his eyes were back on yours. They remained there as he slowly thrusted, the intensity of his eye contact making your limbs go weak.
âIs it okay, honey? The pace?â
Yesterday, he had thrown an adversary from a roof. Last week he left a hole in the wall when he turned a corner at pace, chasing down a rogue agent, thrusting his shield into concrete and making it crumble like drywall. Shattering glass as he jumped through windows was a regular occurrence. He was durable. Sturdy. You werenât. He used all of his concentration to use only a fraction of his strength on you. None, if possible. You were a civilian. He had to be gentle.
Dumbly, you nodded your response. The languid pace was perfect.
He continued to slowly rail you. He broke eye contact only to lean down and kiss your lips. He closed his eyes, the softness of your lips coaxing a moan from his. Whispers and sweet words replaced soft kisses, his voice low and raspy in your ear.
Youâre so beautiful.
I love you so much, honey.
You feel so good.
He cycled through rounds of kisses, whispers and intense eye contact, his thrusting gratuitously slow. Indulgent, even. The deepest kisses gave you shivers. The ones where his tongue did the talking, where it felt as though he was attempting to kiss your soul. The whispers following these deep ministrations were simple.
Iâm lost for words, honey. God.
It wasnât about climax for either of you. Steve figured the longer it took to fall over the edge into bliss, the better. He wanted to draw it out. Make it last as long as possible. It was the same reason he ate slowly. Why it took him weeks to finish a book he loved. He didnât want the pleasure to end. His life hadnât always been filled with so much tenderness. Maybe thatâs why he savoured it.
He couldnât be selfish. It wasnât in his DNA. The very moment he saw a flicker of frustration, a sense he was taking too long, his fingers would cease their faithful trail over your skin and inch their way down to your inner thigh, writing love letters in their wake as he reached your most sensitive spot. His fingers applied gentle pressure, slow circles, picking up his thrusting slightly, bringing you towards climax safely. Less like a freight train hurtling past an abandoned Midwest station. More like a passenger carriage coming to a gentle, rolling stop. If he thought about it too much, even he had to admit it was incredibly on-brand.
The soft moans from your lips and the way your mouth opened, your neck arching back into the pillow, your hands gripping fistfuls of Egyptian cotton.... the mere sight of your pleasure was enough to tip him over the edge. He would climax slowly, the pleasure coursing through his arteries like the serum did all those years ago. Your eyes were on him, watching him press upright onto his palms, arching backwards, the hard lines of his face softening into pleasure.
He bathed in the ecstasy. But he never allowed himself to become lost to it. He remained in control enough to lower himself down gently. He couldnât afford to lose it and collide his body into yours. He could hurt you.
His face would nuzzle into your neck post-coital, sweet kisses peppering your shoulder as your hands tangled in his hair. He was soon back on his forearms, intense in his gaze, brow creased as he checked you were alright. His expression softened, the tense muscles in his jaw relaxing when he realised you were safe. Of course you were. You were underneath him. It was the safest place to be.
âThat was⊠wow.â
He chuckled, cheeks flushing just slightly. He said the same thing every time but it never got old. He was here, fully present and absolutely entranced by you and unable to connect words together. He was articulate. He gave commands. You rendered him dumb-struck.
Aftershocks of his pleasure varied. Sometimes he would offer his hand and pull you up, inviting you into the shower with him. Other times you would stay just like that, kissing and starting up another round. Often you would remain wrapped in each other and fall into a brief slumber, napping for half an hour before a particularly loud truck honked its horn on the streets below and jolted you awake. In these moments, Steve rarely slept. He would lay awake, his arm around you as you snoozed on his chest. His hands ran through your hair. He smiled, his gaze soft and focusing on nothing in particular.
Today, you simply put your clothes back on and talked about food.
Steve looked towards the window. âI donât know about you but I could really go for a hot dog.â
At a leisurely pace, you picked up the street food, glancing up at Steveâs apartment five floors up and wondering just how much was audible at street level. You walked around the local park hand-in-hand, connecting with an elderly couple sat together eating ice cream. They gave you a nod before their gaze returned to each other.
Steve felt a warm sensation in his chest. Some days, he wasnât sure if he trusted the gifts he had been given. In his cloudier frames of mind, he imagined losing it all again and facing the prospect of processing immeasurable grief. Thankfully, those days were becoming passing storm clouds in an otherwise sunny disposition.
He glanced over at you and smiled. It might be the height of June, but every day with you made him feel like it was summer.
Johnâs stamina was forged in the fires of endless ops, a battle-hardened SAS captain who could stay up for three days straight and work like clockwork. Of course he takes advantage of his strength while heâs fucking you, slamming into you with savage force as he flips you like a ragdoll, pounding your pussy raw across every filthy angle until your fourth orgasm leaves you a quivering mess, cunt spasming and gushing around his shaft. You slumped forward, body drenched in sticky perspiration, your oversensitive walls twitching with aftershocks that had you biting your lip to stifle the sobs of overwhelmed bliss. Your tits heaved with each gasp, nipples scraped raw against the sheets, and a deep, bone-melting exhaustion settled in, but the filthy hunger in your core kept you clenching, desperate for his next invasion despite the burn.
Price growled low, his massive frame looming over you, veins bulging on his forearms as he gripped your thighs, his cock throbbing against your slick inner leg, smeared with your juices and his own leaking precum. The musky stench of sex hung heavyâcum, sweat, and your arousal mixing into a heady fog that made his balls tighten with fresh need. Seeing you wrecked like thisâyour cunt puffy and gaping slightly from his abuseâsent a dark thrill through him; he wanted to soil you more, mark every inch as his.
âI'm just getting startedâ, he grins, voice thick with lust, the words hitting you like a slap to your clit, making it throb painfully. Before you can even whimper in response he shoves your face into the sheets âstay thereâ he orders, voice rough and demanding. You stay still, fingers gripping the sheets as his rough hands pried your ass cheeks apart. Cool air immediately hit your soaked holes, your thighs trembling as his previous load oozed from your pussy, trailing down to coat your clit and pool on the bed. Your mouth watered involuntarily, tongue lolling out as the humiliation twisted into heat, your body a slick, filthy offering.
He drank in the sight, eyes dark with possessionâyour arched back forcing your ass up high, cheeks spread wide to show off the creamy mess he left inside, your holes glistening under the soft light of the bedroom like they beg for more abuse. âLook at that, leaking my load like a proper whore,â he rasped, admiration laced with dirtiness, before his palm smacked down hard on your ass, making you jolt and whine âJohn!â. The pain sparked straight to your core, nerves firing wildly, and you ground back against nothing, chasing the degradation.
âI can'tââ you gasped, voice muffled and broken, nails digging into the mattress as tears of overstimulation pricked your eyes. âCome on, love, just one more for me. Can you be a good girl and give me one more?â he cooed, his beard scraping your skin as he leaned in, hot breath fanning your exposed flesh. You nodded frantically in need of his approval, arching your back further into him, âthatâs my girlâ.
But he couldnât help himself, not when you moaned his name so prettily, not with your fucked up expression and hazy eyes looking at him so sweetly, not with how gorgeous your cunt looked stretched out around his dick. He needed to see you cum until you physically couldnât.
Price is a man of strength and stamina, and a liar whenever he says âjust one moreâ.
John Price is the posessive type, old fashioned to some degree, though flexible in his beliefs because anyone who's seen as much as him knows nothing is truly right or wrong, nothing bears the absolute truth in it. Doesn't mean he doesn't treat his girl right, though.
So flowers to every date, opening up the passenger door, giving you his jacket when it's cold - not optional. Loves being able to present you at his arm, his lady all glammed up and pretty and only for him. He'll love you in no matter what, but you in a dress with earrings and some heels will always have a special place in his heart. Though, just you in one of his shirts, hair messy as you both wake in the morning might just take the crown.
Puts his name on you in subtle ways; jewelry he bought, cothes he bought, maybe just the skincare he bought - his money was yours and god did he love to spend it on you. You could wake him at the ass crack of dawn asking for his credit card because you had a new hyperfixation that was in dire need of financial assist or you wanted an industrial oven in the big kitchen of yours and he'd just tell you to grab his plastic from where it was, next time you don't need to ask.
Loves fucking you in lingerie he buys. Red, lacy pieces were his go-to, the crotchless kind with a top that hugged your boobs perfectly. So pretty against your skin, filigree fabrics befitting of his gorgeous girl. Or he just forgoes lingerie all in all, fucking you in nothing but the new lecklace he got you; a fine chain with a stone the same color as his eyes, though he also is the type to love pearls for some reason, the picture of your tits covered in his spend all while glowy pearls wrap around your neck something that could get him hard on the spot.
CW: Reader with a pussy explicitly mentioned (although now that I'm thinking about it writing this from the POV of a reader with a dick SOUNDS DELICIOUS I think imma do that next omg), smutty thoughts about Price in general.
I want a John Price who's abhorrently down bad for me like how people write Simon Riley to be. Like I want a man who's got the facade of a well-to-do gentleman with a picture perfect reputation but if I asked him to kneel down and drool like a dog while eating my pussy he WOULD.
Wanna see that mustache wet with my pussy juices and drool dripping down his chin like a dog slobbering to get a taste after being starved for too long. Want him to go dumb and plead in that old voice of his, "Please darlingâ sweetheartâ love I need you I'll make you feel so good just give me that sweet cunt," as he grabs my hips and tries to pull me over his face as he kneels between my thighs.
I want to stand over him, call him pathetic, before digging my fingers into his hair and pulling him between my thighs to eat like the dog he is.
I dunno, I just want a man so downbad he'll kneel and beg like a dog for pussy đ„°
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It had been a bloody long day and all John wanted was to pass out in his warm bed at home. But he wasn't home. He had a good few hours of paper work left and only the shitty military cot waiting for him in his bunk. The one that made his back ache despite how many blankets he added to soften it. His mood sour he opened the door to his office, only to freeze.
You were sitting on his office couch. Simon, maskless, completely nude, knelt between your legs with his head resting on your thigh. His eyes closed as you pet his hair. You looked up at him with that sweet smile that made his knees weak.
"There's my sweet boy... c'mere."
John's feet felt heavy as he dragged himself towards you. Taking your outstretched hand and letting you guide him to the couch next to you where you had already set up pillows for him. The stress melting from his tense shoulders as you rubbed a hand up the back of his neck to curl into his hair.
"You're gonna lay down for me, ok?" He nodded. Shifting onto his back, legs pressed against yours as you turned your attention back to Simon. "Simon, sweetie? Can you get Mama's cock ready for John?"
Despite the big mans dazed expression he did as he was told. Lifting your skirt to reveal the strap resting between his legs. A soft keen sounding from the back of his throat as he sunk down to the base.
Returning to John you rubbed his thigh. Helping him out of his clothes until he was laying there nude for you. Half hard cock twitching against his stomach. Focussed on the way spit dribbled down Simon's chin and coated the strap. Your smaller one, so you wouldn't have to waste time working him open for a bigger size.
"That'll do, baby. Thank you."
The moment the words left your mouth Simon sat back on his haunches. Watching as you turned to settle between John's legs. Pressing the slick tip of your toy against his hole, pushing in slow, watching his face for any discomfort. There was none though. He had sunk so quickly into a relaxed and calm headspace. Whole body pliable for whatever you wanted from him.
"Look how well you took it... isn't he so good, Simon?" Not hearing a response John assumed that Simon had just nodded. "Why don't you help him feel good with me."
Moments later John felt a warm, wet mouth surrounding his cock. His hand twitching up to rest at the back of Simon's head, before correcting himself and settling back onto his shoulder. Squeezing the muscle in silent praise.
With your shallow thrusts and Simon practically swallowing his cock it didn't take long for John to arch off the couch. Eyes rolled back in his head as he grasped for your hand. Focusing on the squeeze you gave him to ground himself while he spilled into Simon's mouth.
"Ma... thank you, Mama. Thank you..." He knew how pathetic he sounded. It was freeing in a way. To go so completely against his day to day persona. Allowing himself to be needy and high pitched and just so good for you.
"You're welcome, my good boy."
When he finally came back to himself he glanced down to see you petting Simon's hair again. The man completely lost as he lapped at John's cock like a damn popsicle. You lowered your voice, gentle in a way that made his sensitive dick throb.
"Show John how well he did for us."
Quickly Simon shifted on his knees so he was hovering above him. Waiting until John opened his mouth before letting the cum dribble from his lips. The captain's face burning as his own spend covered his tongue and slid down his throat. He swallowed without even being told to. Glancing up at you and preening under your approving nod.
"Now sleep. If I see you up there will be trouble."
Despite how badly he wanted to, John did value his career.
"I've got paperwork-"
"Simon already did it for you."
John glanced down at the blonde man now resting his head on his chest. Gently pulling him closer and pressing a kiss to his forehead. Before resting his head back against the pillows.
I'm sick of Steve being portrayed as a 7ft alpha daddy mogger guy, so here are some REAL headcanons about Steve having a crush:
- He tends to adjust his jacket or shirt every time he sees you, as if he's getting ready to impress you.
- He fiddles with his gloves or shield (if it's nearby) while talking to you, because he doesn't know where to put his hands.
- He tries to maintain eye contact but quickly looks away if he feels like he's staring at you for too long.
- He laughs awkwardly every time you say something funny, then blushes a little when he realizes it.
- He stumbles over his words or says things that are too formal for himself, like, âI'd like to... uh... talk to you about... that,â nervously but sweetly.
- He stand between you and anything that might hit or bother you, even if it's minimal, just to protect you.
- He opens the door to the lab or office for you, with that shy smile that he's not sure you'll like.
- He makes sure you have everything you need on your desk: water, coffee, organized papers, working pens.
- Takes extra notes to help you, even if you haven't asked, just because he wants everything to be perfect for you.
- Remembers things you said days ago and brings them up as an excuse to talk to you or surprise you, like, âHey, I remembered you liked X, I got this for you.â
- Very enthusiastic about explaining something he's passionate about to you, just to see your reaction, and deep down hoping you will admire them a little.
- Leaning in to see you better when you are doing something, even if there is no need, as if he just want to get closer.
- Clumsily imitating your gestures without you noticing, as if he's unconsciously want to be closer to you.
- He accompanies you while you work, keeping a respectful distance but always close by, just so he doesn't miss a thing.
- He takes small risks to interact with you, like walking by you to hand you a document or asking you a trivial question just to talk to you.
- He gently teases you with jokes to make you laugh and see your smile.
- He watches you when you're not looking and quickly looks away when you catch him.
- He gives you awkward compliments, like âthat... uh... the project you did is... very well doneâ with an instant blush.
- He is genuinely interested in things you like, even if he didn't care much about them before, just to have something to talk about with you.
- He thinks about you when you're not around, then tries to hide it when he sees you again.