#glossy nails price

[dumbbitchgalore]

The first time he said ‘I Love You’ - John Price 💕

Articles of clothing thrown around with a single care, bedsheets ruffled losing its perfection as the four walls welcomed the smell of sex and the echoing of breathy moans and the slapping of skin.

You hold onto John’s shoulders, your eyes committing his face to memory, keeping you company on nights when John is long gone with no contact. Keeping you warm on the night, you find yourself knuckles deep in your sopping cunt and curses spill out of your lips with no release written on your kismet without him.

You shouldn’t be attached to him. For fucks sake, he was the idiotic, rowdy boy from your childhood that you happened to run into during his time off deployment. And every now and then, you both find yourselves in bed, sweaty and begging for more from one another.

Right now, you lay in bed as John pushes you further into the mattress as he ruts into your pussy, red and raw. Voice broken, you croak out a few half-hearted protests at his thrusts. Nails scratch down his chest leaving a red tinge behind accompanied by pitiful fistful hits only fueling his ego. 

“Come on, Birdie. Keep up.” John grunts while you keen under him in the delight he provides you. 

Flowery moans escape your kiss-bitten lips, glossy with spit and tinted with lust. Back arched, giving John better access to your hips, holding them tight as he slams into you like a man starved of a woman. Not a moment later, your orgasm chases you, the pit of your stomach coiling, ragged gasps leave you. Wrapping your legs around his waist, you bring him close to you, flushed at the hip. John’s weight is on top of you as he grabs a fistful of his hair tugging as he cum deep in your used cunt, filling you up, making sure that your body is moulded to him and him alone. 

You sob into his chest in blissful ecstasy, John’s face buried in the crook of your neck inhaling the scent on your sweat covered skin mixed with his own musk. Cooing in your ear, he pulls out and lays beside you rubbing your back and kissing the top of your head as you come down from your high.

“There’s my pretty girl. Did so good, yeah? Yeah, you did my sweet petal.”

That night felt different. The night was longer, the air was sweeter and the moon seemed brighter, seeping through the balcony window, leaving a soft hue casted over the bedroom. Nuzzling into your side, you bask in the warmth that radiates off him and onto you. John senses your need for warmth and touch, he wraps an arm around your shoulder bringing you even closer before pulling the blanket up to your chin. Chuckling as you nuzzle closer to him and deeper into the sheet, he places a chaste kiss to the tip of your nose, sighing softly as she relishes in the comfortable silence you find yourselves in. 

“You know, birdie…” John starts off, voice scruffy and heavy with sleep as you hum in reply. 

“I’ve realised that I’ve gotten used to you, Used to your touch and voice. Your sweet voice is like a bloody siren that keeps telling me to share a bed with you… Not to mention your laugh- music to my ears, dollface.” 

John sighs softly, rubbing his hand over his face to calm his nerves. 

“What I’m trying to say is that…bloody hell, why is this so hard? What- what I’m tryna say is that I love ya. There. There I said it, ya happy?” 

John says, turning his face to the side to see yours. 

Only to be met with your once eager, glossed over eyes to be closed, your lips parted as your snore softly, cheeks still flushed from the aftermath. 

John chuckles softly, humoured by your lack of response due to being lulled by tiredness. He kisses the top of your head once. 

“Guess I’ll have to ask ya in the morning, sweetheart.”

[charliemwrites]

Mafia au with Price perspective

Content: Implied Violence

John, for the life of him, can’t believe he ever ran SpecGru without you.

It’s a hit to his pride to admit it, certainly. That an outsider has discovered a small conspiracy within his own organization less than three months into employment. That, apart from even that, he’s never been less scattered, having someone right by his side remembering details, appointments, bits of information.

Morning smells like Earl Grey and your perfume now. Steam mixing with whatever you’ve spritzed for the day, his own little aroma therapy. Revitalizing after however late the previous night dragged him out.

In general, you’re like a breath of fresh air. A smiley little charm of color and delicacy in his world of saturated shadows, blood and brutality.

Clean-cut dresses with patterned tights, soft-knit scarves. Lace accents and modest stilettos. Thin, sparkly jewelry and smart makeup. The scent of you drowns out the lingering burn of gunpowder; or maybe just transforms it into something heady.

John lingers on your hair. Smooth ponytails, tight coifs, intricate braids. Likes when it’s loose enough to brush you shoulders and neck, a little bounce to it as you toddle in and out of his office.

You’re gorgeous, he knows it like a gun in his hand or the stench of fear in the air. Has encountered (and indulged) in more than his share of stunning women. Women with beautiful smiles, and bright laughter, and sweet voices. Cunning women, too. Women who could outfox all but his best on any given day.

You have all of that in spades, though you’re not the first.

The difference, he thinks, is your sincerity. You’re never anything but honest with him. Even when you maybe shouldn’t be. Not that you share your opinion every time you have one, but if he asks for it, you’ll answer without pulling punches.

Respectful, always. Polite. But scalpels are elegant tools as dangerous as any dagger. You’re not cold by any means, but you’re made of steel. Precise and implacable in some ways. Have never hesitated too look him in the eye and cheerfully explain why he’s wrong.

That, he knows, is a rare commodity.

“I understand this is time sensitive Mister Graves, but raising your voice is not going to open Mister Price’s schedule.”

Your voice goes silky when you get like this. A finely draped, overly pleasant “no” in each word. A wall is still a wall no matter how finely it’s painted.

You’ve just gotten your nails done again, glossy wine red tap-tap-tapping over your customized keyboard. Whatever Philip is saying on the other end does not seem to be impressing you. Soap and Gaz are trying not to snicker. You shoot them an amused look.

“Well, he’s booked every morning for the next two weeks,” you continue.

John is not, in fact, booked every morning for the next two weeks. There are two mornings with two hours open and you’re serenely looking at them on your computer screen. He doesn’t correct you, interested to see how this plays out. You know he hates Philip and are gleefully taking advantage of that fact.

“Well, Mister Graves, a lot of people have time sensitive issues to bring to Mister Price,” you explain, a touch condescending now. “I’m afraid I can’t reschedule them just because you have… a trip to Glasgow, is it?”

You don’t sound impressed. Neither is John. You clear your throat, arch your eyebrows at him. Put up three fingers. He nods.

“I can schedule you in on the 3rd in the evening. Your assistant said you’ll be back by then.”

You blink, an almost smug curve to your lips at whatever is said. A pleasant shiver runs down John’s spine. Philip will just have gotten in then - a full day of travel after whatever business he’s been up to will put him at a disadvantage.

“Well, I’m afraid Mister Price’s next availability won’t be until the… 8th. So shall we schedule something for the 3rd? I can always call if he has a cancellation.”

A pause. Your eyes narrow into a mean little smile at nothing in particular. Practically glowing with satisfaction. Without your attention on him, he shifts a bit.

“Of course, Mister Graves,” you hum. “I can forward your people the details. Have a lovely day now.”

Soap and Gaz start laughing the moment you hand up. You huff at them in amusement, shaking your head, then turn to John.

“Was there anything you needed, sir?” You ask, syrupy sweet.

John snorts and finally approaches your desk, leaning his hip against the edge as he crosses his arms. You tilt your head to give him your full attention, a stray curl falling against your jaw.

“Since you seem to be on rampage,” he says, “I need you to get a reservation for Friday at Muse.”

You blink at him. “Muse? Sir, that’s… don’t they book that place out months in advance?”

He smirks. “Just use my name, luv. I’m sure you’ll have the rest under control.”

You don’t look convinced, but you slide your sticky pad over - light purple clouds, now. With a pink glitter pen.

“How many and what time, sir?”

“Six for eight o’clock.”

You hum as you scrawl it down, pretty round letters that shimmer under the office lights.

“Before you go,” you say as you set the sticky pad aside. “I have those inventory logs from the docks - as well as the incident report from security that evening.”

You pluck up a neat stack of papers, held together by a star-shaped paperclip. Already he can see pink highlighter on the first page, a little memo-note summarizing information for quick review at the top. Somewhere within, you’ve attached a pink tab to something.

“I’ve highlighted anything in the original shipment that wasn’t found in the inventory log,” you explain, tapping at one of them.

He hums, skims the summary, then starts rifling through the papers. Will never admit how much he appreciates the thoroughness, even if he’s comb through every detail himself just to be sure nothing has been missed.

“Oh, also,” you add, spinning the glitter pen between clever fingers, “I think we should maybe set up a camera near that back entrance to the warehouse.”

He pauses. The back entrance where they do the more gruesome aspects of “business.” Odd that you would suggest that.

“Why’s that?”

You hum. “Well, I’m no narc, but I heard from someone who works over there that one of the shipping guys smokes weed with his cousin in that area. Maybe someone saw them and realized that’s a good way in.”

You shrug, leaning back in your seat again. The computer dings, calling your attention. John shoots Soap a glance, who nods and quietly steps out. You don’t seem to notice, clicking your tongue at whatever you see.

“Nicely done, luv,” he says, voice warm in his chest. You beam at him, pleased as always when he recognizes your hard work. “I’ll call if I need anything else.”

“Yes, sir,” you reply.

Twenty minutes later, you tap lightly at the open door to his office.

“Got the reservation!” You announce, a funny little smile on your face. “They were so nice about it too. What are you, some kind of mafia boss?”

He chuckles at your joke, shaking his head.

How did he ever manage all this without you?

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Masterlist

[dmitriene]

john price loves the frills and thin laces, he likes the fabric that is too soft to his calloused hands, the knowledge that he can ruin it and corrupt, use his strength to tear it from around the plump flesh it's hugs and sink his nails and teeth in the ripeness beneath.

he likes you with your arms tied behind, wrists tugged together with thin lacy fabric that once we're your panties, concealing the dripping wetness of your fat pussy that is now all bare before his hazel eyes, dusked with flaming thirst as he traces the slick that coats your thighs.

he licks greedily at his teeth when he feeds you his cock, when all you do is wiggle your round hips and press the curve of your plush ass back, impaling yourself back on him, bleeding with need that seeps past your lips in needy whines, each noise has heat unfurling in his gut.

clawing up until it envelops john whole, licking flame in his stomach as he rolls his hips forward to meet your desperate movements, meeting your flesh with a harsh slap, sting of the contact makes you jerk forward with punched little gasp as he stretches your glossy cunt.

shoved deep where his fat cock pulses between your clenching, thin gummy walls, each slam of his beefy thighs behind you makes you sink in the sheets, drooling in the pillowcase while john ravishes at you, sprawled on your soft tummy, tied hands used as a leverage for him to thrust deeper.

ram right against your sweet spot, grinding with bulbous tip that dribbles sticky precum until you wouldn't leak up with his come, with your gooey insides coated in thick, tacky ropes of cum, reeling with an orgasm that leaves his meaty cock shiny with your cream, pressing you in the mattress until not only your hands is numb.

main masterlist. quidelines.

[yeyinde]

So I had a thought recently, but I have no one in my life who would understand the machinations of my mind that led me to this thought nor how dearly I cling to it now and for no other reason than I think it would be goddamn fantastic. So hear me out: isolated, lonely, incredibly possessive Lighthouse Keeper John Price x Selkie (not used to being in human body) Reader…

serious question. where have you been all my life?? whatever machinations are going on inside your head are just *chefs kiss*

but also. i love this. i've been itching to do something moody and morose—that sort of midwinter, blue-orange feeling—and i was thinking bearwalker Price or fargo-esque Price but this is IT!!

and maybe selkie!Reader is a bit animal-like when it comes to humans—a wary sort of fear, but a genuine curiosity that brings them closer—and having spent their whole life in the sea (the last of a dying breed)—they're incredibly naïve. they trust him. so when he says "we're married," they just. accept it.

and i'd love for Price to hunt mc in the beginning, too. i can see him standing on the lookout deck of the lighthouse, firing shots at this shape in the water. and maybe that's what makes you wash up on shore. he goes to look at what he shot and he finds you. finds your skin. takes it. hides it.

Price teaches them what it means to be married. lil corruption kink sprinkled in. a whole lotta "you're my wife." they inadvertently feed the monster inside of him, this festering loneliness (sea madness).

i'm so in love with this. i love when humans corrupt the monster because sure, we're altruistic. we saved this poor creature but also. we're possessive and greedy and to Price—he saved you. no one else. him. you owe him something, don't you?

AHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!

messy little snapshot of their relationship i whipped up quick is under the cut

"Now you," he prods, and leans back on the chair, knees spread as you wobble around in his lap, getting used to the feeling of having such long, limberous legs. His hands fall to your bare thighs, holding firm as you squirm around. Restless little thing.

"Me?" You echo, blinking at him with wide, wet eyes. That's the only part that really marks you as other in this skin. Glossy, black. Too wide. Too animal. The colour beneath is slowly peaking through the inky murk, bleeding in the longer you stay on land, but it's obvious that you're not human.

His cracked, sea-dried knuckles brush over the curve of your cheek, petting the silken, human skin that you say fits too tight. He thinks it's perfect.

"Yes," he grunts, shifts his weight. "Do what I just did to you. Lemme see if you were payin' attention like you said you were. Wanna be my good little wife, don't you?"

There's a knot between your brows. The innocuous urge to tell him that you don't have a choice when he's holding your skin hostage puddling on the tip of your tongue, but he slides his hands over your flanks, feeling the powder softness of your skin under his fingers, nails catching in a quick grip. A reprimand. It leaves in a huff. A shuddering breath.

You're still getting used to the sensation of hands on your body. Still acclimating to the one you wear—chock full of nerves, a basin of raw, undulled sensation that you don't feel when you're a seal. The pelt a protective armour against it that humans don't have.

A kinder man would have slowed down. Let you get used to the feeling. Maybe even gave you back your skin and let you choose.

But that's not him.

No. He digs the tips of his fingers into the meaty back of your thighs and pulls you closer against his groin. Chest to chest. Nearly face to face if he didn't have a whole head over you.

"C'mon," he urges, belly warming at the way you gasp when your naked core meets the cold metal of his belt. "I'm not a very patient man, love."

Your hamstrings tighten under his palm as you lift yourself up, eyes still wide and wet and unbearably curious as you press your slick, warm mouth to his in a clumsy pastiche of the kiss he gave you moment ago.

You taste of the ocean. Briny. Seafoam. Kelp. He groans a little into your clumsy, almost childish attempt to replicate what he just did to you—slick little tongue brushing over the seam of his mouth, drenching the wry curls that over his lips. It's too wet. Too slick. No finesse.

But his cock throbs in heavy, angry pulses under your ass. Aching already. He groans into it, sliding one hand up the oil-slick skin of your sides until he reaches the delicate slip of your throat. Wrapping a hand around it until he he feels your pulse thunder against his thumb. Pretty thing.

He can't wait to teach you something else you can do with this pretty little mouth, that slippery little tongue—

[cumikering]

F1 John Price x reader 3

2.8k | fluff, suggestive John Price was not jealous of a lap dog (part 1) (part 4)

“So let me get this straight,” you said, plating the sliced loaf on the counter. “You love berries.”

John hummed as he stepped closer, turning you to him by the hips.

“You love to nap and you’re crazy about salmon.”

Crazy about you too.

You scratched his bearded jaw. “You’re a bear, aren’t you?”

He laughed as he leaned in. You smiled against his lips.

The both of you made breakfast. You thanked him again for the loaf, saying it paired wonderfully with tea. In the sunlight, you gazed at him with those pretty eyes, smile sweet, that his heart skipped a beat.

There was something about you, or your place, or the quiet morning that was like a warm embrace to him. Safe. Serene. It was easy to be with you, like there was nothing that could go wrong when you were with him.

You looked out the window and he revelled in the way the diffused light caressed your skin. The sun had grown warmer.

“Need to go to the shops later today,” you muttered.

“I can take you.”

You turned to him, beaming. “There’s a small park I like nearby.”

When he pulled up, it was then he realised he’d forgotten his cap at your place. He reached for the pocket behind your seat, lucky to have kept a spare team cap there.

“Orange looks good on you.” Your fingers curled over the crook of his arm.

He turned to you smiling up at him. I think it would look even better on you. “Yeah? We call it papaya at McLaren.”

You let out a small laugh. “That’s adorable.”

You took a short stroll at the quiet park, his strong hand engulfed yours, and headed to the shops before it got too cold. He hauled the shopping to and from his car, and he swore he fully intended to get out of your hair after he helped you put away your shopping, but when you pulled out two mugs for tea… Well, maybe you didn’t mind if he tarried a little.

At the end of the night, John gathered his toiletries and zipped his luggage up.

“You always come to me, John. Let me return the favour,” you said at the door.

“My place is a bit far.”

“All the more reason why I should, no?”

“I really don’t mind.” He brought your hand to his lips. “Maybe next time when we're in the area?”

You gave him a quick kiss and he pulled his cap on before walking away. He hoped you didn’t mind that he left the orange one on your dining table. You’d look better in it.

January days crawled into a pattern. John picked you up from work for dinner two, three times a week, staying over on the weekends. Seeing you, no matter how short always made him smile.

John, you don’t have to pick me up. I’m closing today. Sophie’s ill so I sent her home. See you tomorrow?

No. See you later

You poor thing. You’d be too tired to cook dinner. He could buy you something instead, guaranteed to taste good – you deserved it after a long day, but he wanted to show his appreciation too. You’d taught him how to cook upon his request, and it was his time to show you what he’d learnt (hopefully). But as he was swinging by the shops for your favourite protein, an idea struck.

When he pushed the door of your shop open, you were wiping down the counters. He pulled his mask down and greeted you with a kiss. His beard had grown full, and he found himself addicted to the way you nails scratched his jaw when your lips met.

He insisted on helping you with the washing – it was the least he could do for his favourite lady, but not before cornering you against the counter, lifting you by the waist onto it and savouring your glossy lips a little longer. You tasted even better when you giggled, your fingers digging into his biceps, making him hum.

In the car, he pulled out the Tupperware of sub sandwiches from his backseat. “Eat up, love. I’m taking you somewhere.”

“You made these?”

He nodded, glancing at you. “I hope you like it.”

You smiled. “Thank you.”

The streets had simmered down and the drive to the other side of town was shorter than expected. The doorman greeted you warmly, swinging the door open to a vast lobby with a classic grand chandelier, accentuating the lustrous marble floors. He picked up a small bag from the concierge and pulled out an access card.

“Oh, it’s such a nice place, John,” you said as you stepped into the lift.

He pressed the button to the top floor and wrapped an arm around you, pulling you against his side. “My manager lives here. I like the view.”

John had called her earlier as he drove to you.

“Kate, do you mind if I borrow your spotting scope tonight?”

“Let me guess.” She let out an amused chuckle. “You’re at the coffee shop and you need me to deliver it in half an hour?”

Kate had started teasing John ever since the GTI favour. Always self-sufficient, he wasn’t one to bother anyone unless it was necessary. Someone had to make him act that way, for him to go out of his way to ask for favours, especially something so trivial.

It might be off season and they didn’t have to talk about work nearly as often, but they’d always meet for a meal once or twice a month with Kate’s wife. Not this time though. She didn’t miss the way he only responded during working hours. Kate didn’t press, but it was a slip of the tongue when he said he’d made plans with you when she suggested dinner one weekend.

“I’d like to go to your rooftop actually.”

“Your balcony has a far better view.”

“Well, your building is quieter.”

“You can’t hear anything from the 30th floor.”

A beat. “Can I borrow the scope, please, Kate?”

“Yeah, alright, sure. What time are you swinging by? We’re going out for dinner.”

“Yeah, no worries. Could you leave it at the concierge for John Sloane?”

She chuckled. “Sloane? Like your mum’s maiden name? They know who-“ There was a pause. “She doesn’t know, does she?”

John could imagine Kate’s pitying look. They’d been working closely for years, even before he got into F1. A karting champion in her younger days, she was his mentor before becoming his manager. Naturally, she was privy to his relationships, especially the one which was flaunted all over the media.

She had encouraged him to play along, stomach it. You can’t run from this if you’re in the business, she’d said, and she was right. It was evidently favourable for his career, until it wasn’t for his feelings anymore.

Perhaps Kate had been callous to his discomfort, something she had apologised for numerous times. She had since said nothing about his personal relationships, not like there was much to say though. He couldn’t be too cautious of who to let in.

He sighed. “It’s a long story.”

“It’s none of my business, John, but that doesn’t sound right.”

“I know, I know. I’m just… Taking it slow. I’m telling her before the season starts.”

John pulled the beanbag chairs from under the canopy. He plopped down, tugging on your wrist to sit between his thighs. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you lose to his chest before you looked through the scope.

“Oh, I forgot to tell you. Someone came in in a McLaren polo today, said he was getting cookies for his boss. It was my first time seeing someone with a mohawk in real life, but he definitely pulled it off.”

He laughed. “Wait, let me guess. He’s Scottish?”

“Yes! You know him?”

“His name is John too, but we call him Johnny or Soap.”

“Soap? Like a bar of soap?”

“Yeah. One time, someone got a box of decorative soaps – I think it was macaron? He mistakenly took a bite out of it.”

You laughed and lowered the scope, turning to him. “Are you serious?”

“To be fair they did look hyper-realistic and smelled wonderful. But I like to think I wouldn’t have been fooled.”

You held the scope back up, the smile still on your lips. “I didn’t think you’d know him. I said a friend works there.”

“A friend, huh.” He kissed the top of your head. “I hope I’ll be more than that one day.”

“You are.”

He heard the tease in your voice. “You are to me too. I like you a lot.” Too much.

It had only been two months since the day you made him his double-shot Americano, but it felt much longer. Seeing you the past weeks had been the highlight of his time off, allowing him a glimpse of your everyday life.

Despite disliking driving outside the track, with London’s dreadful traffic at that, he didn’t mind at all dropping you off work and picking you up again. It was rude how soon he daydreamed about being a part of your life, but kissing you at your door at the end of the night was the best part of his day.

“John, you live around here, right? Should we just go to yours?”

“Not tonight, love. Place is a mess.”

“I don’t mind. You said we’d go when we’re in the area.”

Shit, he’d forgotten. “Sorry, I wasn’t expecting a guest. Next time?”

You hummed, pulling his arms tighter around yourself.

John, once more, breathed a sigh of relief. But he’d meant it – he would tell you soon. He just needed some more time.

You started wearing his papaya cap on rainy days, and on that gloomy Friday, John decided on kebab for dinner. You were supposed to sit at the park, but the cloudy sky didn’t look promising. Instead, you ate in the car before heading home.

Before he exited his car, he placed the cap over your head, making you smile. The colour really looked wonderful on you.

Near the building entrance, you stopped in your tracks.

“John, do you hear that?”

“What?”

“Like a puppy whining- There!”

The noise was faint but he heard it then. You followed it to the SUV at the end of the lot with John trailing. Under the bonnet, a small dog was curled up, soaked and trembling in the cold.

“Oh, you poor thing,” you said, stooping down and inching your hand out. “You must be lost.”

The brown pooch whined louder and made the slightest hint of a scoot towards you amidst the shivers of its body. It was all it took for you to scoop it into your arms.

“I’ll get you warm-” You inspected the glinting tag on his collar, flipping it over. “Holden,” you muttered. “John, could you help me call his owner while I dry him?”

“Of course.”

You rushed to the bathroom to dry the pup off. Later, with the collar and his phone in hand, John cracked open the door.

“They’re not picking up, but I sent a text. Hopefully I’ll get a reply soon.”

Holden stood on the toilet lid as you knelt down to blow dry him. John sat next to you, watching how gentle you were to the strange dog as you fluffed him up, muttering reassuring words at him. He stopped shaking.

You switched off the hairdryer.

“Wow, it’s like he put on a few pounds.” John stroked his now blond-grey fur. He looked up at him with doe eyes and licked his hand. “What breed is he?”

You laughed, rising to your feet and scooping him into your arms. You scratched the back of his ear and his tail swayed at the attention. “Yorkshire Terrier. He’s such a sweetheart, isn’t he?”

Just like you are. He followed you out to the living room. “I’ll get him water.”

You and John lounged on the couch, Holden napping on your chest, finally warm and cosy wrapped up in one of your old towels. You caressed him mindlessly as you watched the telly.

John Price was not jealous of a fluffy lap dog. It was silly to think so far, but he thought he’d love a pet with you, something to take care of together. Your tenderness made him fuzzy.

It was then his phone rang on the coffee table. It was the owner.

You headed to the address given, just a few minutes away from your place. As you walked up to the door, Holden’s tail went wild. You cooed at him and a woman answered the door.

A little girl rushed past and gave your midriff a big hug. “You found him! Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

You stroked her hair and stooped to hand the pup to her.

“Thanks so much for bringing him back, love,” the woman said to you before nodding at John. “It was my fault, I left the door open and he slipped away yesterday. We were worried sick.”

“You’re welcome. I’m glad I found him. He must have been so scared.”

“Here, please accept this.” She took your hand and clasped it over a wad of bills.

“Oh- No, no, I can’t accept that. It was my pleasure. I’m just happy he’s alright now.”

The woman smiled. “Thank you so much, love, really.”

“You be good now, Holden.” You patted his head, and he let out an excited bark before you turned.

At the end of the night, John climbed in bed with you, pressing his chest against your back.

He planted a few kisses on your neck as he mumbled, “I got you this.” He reached over, presenting you a small, custom bear plush wearing an orange cap.

You turned to him, beaming. “Is that supposed to be you?” You ran a finger over the cookie on the bear’s paw.

“Maybe.” He smiled.

“I love it.” You gave him a peck. “What should I call him?

“What about JP?” He pressed his forehead against yours, eyes closed.

“I never got to ask what that stands for,” you whispered against his lips.

“Jean Pierre. You got it right the first time.” He laughed. “My mates call me that sometimes.”

“Have you all got nicknames?”

“Some of us, yes. There’s Gaz, Ghost, and you already know Soap. My manager gets called Watcher.”

“They all sound so fun. Would love to meet them one day.”

“They are. They’re good people.” They’d love you.

Seeing his teammate’s recent obsession with cookies, Kyle didn’t take long to connect the dots. While John was initially reluctant to show your photos to Kyle and the others, he couldn’t hide his grin when Johnny said you looked even better in real life.

“She gave me a free coffee, said she’s got a mate who works at McLaren. So it was you, Cap. How modest of her to say,” he’d said.

They asked when they’d get to meet you, the mystery cookie lady John Price couldn’t stop talking about. Except Kate, the only one who knew why you hadn’t met his closest people yet.

A pause. Your warm breath tickled his skin in the silence.

“Thanks for JP. Now I’ll have you with me every night.”

“You can always ask,” he grunted.

“What if I never want you to leave?”

“Then I won’t, love.”

“You promise?” you murmured.

“I promise.”

It was stupid, really, to let himself feel so much, so fast. But he couldn’t help but want more and more. He felt enough with you, for you, like he didn’t have to be anybody else but some bloke from Liverpool.

He couldn’t keep doing this to you, someone so special to him.

You pulled him close, the small puffs of breath he knocked out of you warm against his shoulder, nails raking deliciously down his back. Just like in his daydreams, the beautiful sounds you let out made his skin tingle and sear. Was he the one making you feel this way?

He dipped his head, breath hot and heavy, grunting into your ear. You made his head spin. He’d never get tired of the way his name slipped past your soft lips, the way you caressed his face, or the way you planted wet kisses on his neck.

He knew it right then. You wouldn’t break his heart.

John sighed, the thin layer of sweat almost gone from his skin. On his bare chest, you slept soundly in his shirt and the smile wouldn’t leave his lips as he buried his nose in your hair. He wanted this with you, always.

He’d tell you in the morning. But tonight, with lungs full of your sweet scent, he’d sleep in peace knowing nothing would change tomorrow.

Masterlist Ex bf John Price

@tiredmetalenthusiast @le16erc @kyletogaz @ohtobehappy @yikes077

@fruitymoonbeams-blog @juicyjujuuu @alleycc @lahniu @hungrycrazy

@nocturnalreader106 @oceantornadoo @strong-bronze-or-regal-black @dahlia-reads @shinymriver

@sadcowboyhours @the-darling-fishy @rowanyaboats @two-autumns @princessdaniiiii

@eve-lie @hope69world @asbestos-n-asbesties

[aziraphale-is-a-cat]

Meat Cute

Danny was having a bit of a shit day. With him having graduated highschool last year, lunch lady was getting bored with how few opportunities she had to fight with him not frequenting her cafeteria and as such had decided to go big or go home. And by big he meant 'to Gotham'... for some reason.

Apparently, some weird-definitely-cursed city in New Jersey had an abnormally large Meat Packing district and was now paying the price. These were T-Bones everywhere, Rump roast sent through the skylights, and, the most aggravating of the bunch, sausage link.

The aforementioned mystery flesh chain was being sent flailing across the Facility, and since the commotion had long since summoned the city's native heroes, it was often nailing someone right in the soft bits.

The only gotham hero not being absolutely whooped by the Lunch Lady seemed to be the odd one out, a leather jacket wearing gunslinger who donned a red helmet and, since Danny could feel him letting off an ectosignature, seemed to be able to feel her attacks coming.

Swooping in close, Danny managed to land a few hits on Lunch but had no openings to soup her, being forced out of Close range by a well aimed ribeye, and right into the helmeted not-ghost, breaking off that glossy red monstrosity with the force and finding himself wrapped up tight in sausage face to face with the newly unmasked vigilante.

Oh, "I guess now would be a pretty awful time to ask for your number, huh?" Danny cursed his loose lips, but had committed.

The stranger seemed to become abruptly aware of how close they had been forced together by the links, blushing very slightly and going stiff as a board. "Um yeah, probably."

[hunterbunter3000]

OMG SWEETHEART GETTING THE GUYS WORKED UP😍 GET IT GIRLFRIEND

imagine she wears on the those dresses that have HIGH ass slits on both sides showing off her thighs and a sliver of her ass. just a peak yk..a little tease for later

WHHOOOOO

I mean it looks so beautiful on her. Hair in thick, long braids, pearls interwoven in the hair by delicate hands, with gold sparkly jewelry adorning on her skin. She looks like ethereal royalty, sultry makeup and hair. Lips glossy and plump with such a pretty color and nails dipped in gold.

And that dress...

It might as well be a second skin, with how sinful it looks on her. A black Spaghetti strapped body con dress with the deepest v-line they've ever seen. And when she walks, the splits show off her shiny, thick thighs and her long "Stairway to Heaven" legs-- fuckkkkkk

The clicks of her gold gladiator heels makes all of their fantasies want to come true. "Alright, boys! How do I look?" She asks with a smile as she pivots her back towards them. Oh hell, you can see some of her ass-- who the fuck made this dress?

Gaz inhales deeply and Alex bites his fist. Soap has drool coming out of his mouth while Ghost is hiding his crotch behind a pillow. "You look absolutely gorgeous, princess." Price tells her with a low voice, his crossed arms straining against his chest. "Strahlend..." König whispers to himself. "Good." Horangi flats out. He mechanically gives her a thumbs up, not noticing the blood trickling out of his mask. "Good, good. Very good style."

Sweetheart giggles, collecting her purse. "Awww, thanks guys! I'll see you later, okay?" As she was turning around, she drops her wallet on the floor. She mumbles a curse under her breath and bends down to retrieve it.

I mean, good lord. They can only take so much.

[suempu]

i hope you’ll all allow me to write some self indulgent fics once in a while lmao

tw: descriptions of self harm and blood

masterlist <3

“. . .” kabru purses his lips, eyes squinting worriedly from the doorway. his breath shakes with an uncertainty that he’s not used to.

you’re seated on the floor of the bathroom, back faced towards him while he hears your faint crying.

with trembling movements, he maneuvers himself beside you, hearing your ragged breathing and seeing nails scratching and pulling at your skin.

he calls out to you but was met with no answer. his eyes start watering when he sees your blood before he can finally pull a bit of himself together to start restraining your arms.

kabru lets out a sound between a whimper and a sob. he doesn’t like seeing you in this state, doesn’t like how you make almost to no sound, doesn’t like the dazed look in your eyes.

its silent, except for the tiny sniffles and the ruffling of your clothes as your arms were trying to free themselves from his grip.

he tears up, head falling into your shoulder while he uses his trained muscles to put some force into the embrace while also not harming you.

whispering out a small “… shhh..”, kabru continues to hold your arms back from doing further damage. he normally wouldn’t touch you during these times, but you’ve already established that he’s allowed to if ever you manage to do harm.

hoarsely whispering your name, he cradles you like a dying child, grabbing your hands before they can claw at your thighs and skin even more.

it takes several minutes for you to calm down and his tears, along with yours, drip on to the bathroom floor.

he holds you like its his lifeline before gently unwrapping himself from your body once you’ve tired yourself out.

kabru kneels in front of you, taking your hands and trying to ignore the faint smudge of your blood on them. his face is scrunched up in worry while he assesses the state of your skin, the dried wetness of his tears matching yours.

“i’m sorry…” you wobbled out. he looks up to find your previously blank stare morphing into a glossy gaze. “i’m s-sorry… i’m— i’m sorry…” you wail before kabru shushes you gently, taking you into his arms.

he tucks you into his chest, rubbing your trembling form as he rocks back and forth in order to soothe you.

its been a long time since he’s last done this. since he’s last had to clean your wounds and scrub the floor free of blood. kabru doesn’t mind, why would he? taking care of you is a sweet price to pay in exchange for your comfort and happiness.

pressing a kiss on top of your head, he makes a mental note of giving you lots of water once you wake up. but for now, he’ll let you sleep.

[konigsblog]

simon riley as a dad.

a/n; in this, simon is a single dad. please leave requests in my inbox, they're always open !! will make a part two if requested !!!

second photo isn't mine, message me the creators name and i'll update it ☀️

simon was definitely nervous to become a father. the thoughts of becoming like his own plagued his mind, stress forming as the due date came closer.

his beautiful baby girl was born. wipsy blonde hair, eyes lile her mothes, a birthmark on her chest, above her heart. he couldn't help himself, sobbing whilst he held his newborn, his little girl immediately calming down as soon as she was placed on his hands, eyes widening and staring at him with adoration and love, raising her small hand to his cheek.

the only person that new about simon's daughter was price, a man he could trust. it wasn't that he couldn't trust johnny or kyle, it would be easier to tell price as simon himself viewed price as a father. showing him the polaroid photos of his girl, smiling underneath the mask while talking about her.

it's her first day if school, and simon is unsure if he can let her go. he watches as the other adults send their kids off, hugging them goodbye whilst they skipped into school. his eyes glistening, becoming glossy as he held her tight, rocking her from side to side, forcing his tears back before kissing her forehead.

- “dad, i met a boy in my class!!” she yells out, excited to have made a new friend. the word ‘boy’ lingers in his mind. boy, oh god.

helping her with her homework after school seems boring and uninteresting, but to simon, everything about his daughter is exciting and interesting, it's his favourite part of the day; waking up and greeting her, watching as she scoffs down her breakfast, laughing and giggling with him.

i think by the times johnny and kyle figure out simon has a daughter, she's probably be around four. they literally yelled, unsurprisingly and exactly how he thought they'd react. rolling his eyes, yet a smirk hidden under his skull mask. - “the fuck do you mean you have a daughter??”

she definitely looks up to him. talks about him constantly with her guy friend. mentions that she wanted to do what he does for work, causing simon to spit his tea our and nearly have a panic attack at the thought. curling up to her, letting her rest her head on his chest as she took an afternoon nap after school, playing with her dirty blonde hair.

soap meeting her for the first time was definitely something.. he literally was jumping up and down the entire time, launching himself at the poor little girl infront of him, sobbing and whining because she didn't know who this freak was.

calmed down after simon explained that he was his colleague. price scolding him, simon glaring, kyle trying his absolute hardest not to start crying from laughter. - “oh my god, you're simons daughter!?!” johnny screams.

played games with kyle. beat him every single time - got accused of cheating.

price is calm, probably met her before the rest, letting her sit next to him while she talks about the her friend. raising his eyebrow to simon teasingly as she mentions the same boy, laughing at his expression, angered and terrified of a four year old - probably threatens to beat him up before reminded that was a kid.

as the future comes, she gets a boyfriend, and unexpectedly, and unsurprisingly, it's that same boy. literally is gritting his teeth and lecturing her. - “careful, kid. i know you think you love him, but he could be a shit person, 'alright? i'm not gonna let some boy hurt and ruin my daughter.” - “dad, im literally five.”

johnny becomes close with her (after attacking her) letting her out make-up on him. eyeshadow on his cheeks, lip stick on his eyes, false eyelashes on his lips. and kyle has a botched manicure, some nails placed on his palm.

- i can't be bothered adding anything more since it's nighttime, and i'm pretty tired 😵‍💫 tell me your thoughts and opinions ! :)

- will make a part two if wanted and requested.

[celestialprincesse]

𝐒𝐚𝐲 𝐆𝐨𝐨𝐝𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐧 𝐆𝐨 - 𝐅𝐨𝐮𝐫

I'm so so sorry this took so long to get out! It's here now!

as usual, slight nsfw 💕 mdni please

Your dinner date comes in the form of a candlelit booth in the darkest corner of one of the nicest restaurants in town. Even in all your giddy, feet swinging, cheek hurting beaming, you can't miss the way Nikto's hands shake as he withdraws a pair of thick framed glasses from the inner pocket of his jacket before turning away from you to remove the black material of his mask.

"I'm not going to judge you." The sound of your soft admission has his shoulders bunching with a deep breath to slow the thundering of his heart. "I do not wish to frighten you." He murmurs lowly, sliding his glasses over his nose before turning back in his seat to face you.

There's a split second where you just stare, clenching your teeth until they creak in protest as you attempt not to gape over at him. You want to reach out and touch him - to run your fingers over the dipping craters and lines of raised, pale skin, to trace over the constellations of suffering etched into the face of the man sitting so self consciously before you. You don't, but god you want to. Art should comfort the disturbed and disturb the comfortable. You've never felt so safe.

Instead of saying anything, you simply reach for his hand across the clean white tablecloth, an encouraging squeeze given before you return to peering at the menu you've set out before you. "I've never had lobster bisque before." You hum, absently chewing at the pink paint of your nails, realising how very out of your depths you are when most of the items on the menu don't spark any sort of recognition in the depths of your mind. What the fuck is a fregotto?

"Do you like shellfish?" Nikto clearly sees your suffering, your wide eyed gaze as you stare down at the menu, and manages to pull himself from his thoughts in order to rescue you from your own. "I guess." You shrug, chewing on your glossy bottom lip nervously.

You've always subconsciously known that the man next door has money - not that he's the ostentatious type - but the neighbourhood is expensive, and the car in his garage, from what you can tell at least, is new and shiny. The watch around his wrist, though functional at first glance, is clearly expensive too. The only reason you live next door is because you'd inherited your little house from some aunt you'd barely remembered. You're not exactly struggling, but you don't fit in all too well either.

"The wagyu here is excellent." He continues, noticing the way you bounce your leg and fiddle with your pretty little hoop earrings, eyes darting across the off-white card of the menu pages. Your attempt at nonchalance is obvious as you rest your cheek in the crook of your palm, looking over at your date. "I can order for you, if you would like." Nikto shoots you a look he hopes comes off as considerate, practically praying that his actions are helpful, as opposed to controlling. He's never been too god with women. "Yes. Please." You sigh, the weight on your shoulders suddenly disappearing as your eyes flit to the drinks menu, relief evident when you gaze down to the 'house' cocktail menu, immediately settling on the fruitiest thing there.

After the waitress has come and taken the order of the odd pair in the corner, you and Nikto sit in a strangely comforting - albeit awkward - silence. "You look beautiful tonight." His voice is the first to carry through the quiet, drawing you back to him as your eyes glaze over, coming out in a way he's seen you do countless times before. "Thank you." The candlelight does little to hide the way you blush under his obvious, piercing admiration of you.

In your panicked browsing of the menu, you'd not even noticed the lack of pricing. The last time you'd been somewhere as fancy as this had been to celebrate your graduation, where you and your family had shared appetisers and some artistically crafted dessert, before promptly heading to the nearest gas station to stock up on chips and sodas which you'd sat eating in front of the TV. What Nikto knows, and you don't, is that places like this tend to provide the priced menus to the men, and he'd ordered you just about the most expensive thing on there. To him, you're nothing short of a princess, and it's only right that he should treat you as such.

He knows he's made the right decision when you take the first bite of your meal, which leaves your lashes fluttering and your eyes rolling back with a hum of appreciation. He hopes that one day maybe he'll see the same sight under him as he fucks you. "You like it?" He inquires, not even bothering to hide his obvious admiration for you and your animated reactions. "I don't even know what it is. But it's delicious." You breathe, taking another bite, savouring the way every flavour melts on your palate.

Dessert comes and goes, and you feel so blissfully full and happy by the time the waitress comes with a small leather folio, containing the bill. "Oh!" You chirp, rooting around in your inconveniently tiny purse to try and find your card. "Sorry, two seconds." Again, you're blushing with obvious embarrassment as you empty tubes of lipgloss and bubble gum packets out onto the table, your card nowhere to be found. "We are not splitting the bill." Nikto states firmly, removing a card from his wallet, before handing the folio back to the waitress, who promptly disappears to scan his card. "But-" "No. I invited you for dinner. I do not expect you to pay."

Nikto even walks you home, stands there on your porch as you fumble with your purse again, trying to find your keys. "Would you - uh - would you like to come in?" The hope in your eyes makes his gut wrench, but he holds firm. "Maybe another time."

You feel like a fool, some kind of a slut inviting him upstairs after the first date. He probably thinks you're some overzealous little girl as you stand there gawking. The kiss he gives you, tilting your chin up to capture your lips with his, soon fixes this perception. You melt into him just as he pulls away, using his thumb to wipe away some errant gloss on your chin. "When I fuck you, princess, I will do it properly. Yes?" You nod, utterly gormless at his words, at his reciprocation of your feelings made clear. "Goodnight, princess. Sleep well."

You don't sleep well that night. Not in the slightest. You toss and turn under the white silk of your sheets, pyjamas tossed to the floor as you desperately fuck your fingers to the thought of him. He does the same.

Finally here !!! I'm sorry for the wait!!!! I hope you enjoyed !!! Mwah!!!!!!!! Also, tell me you like my new badge🤭

[zombieplaygrounds]

CW: (i lowkey forgot to finish this ><), price x afab!f! reader drabble, smut, mdni, insecure! price?, slightly toxic relationships, internal cumshot, sex while crying, cigarettes.

Fuck. You were so pathetic at the mercy of Price. His gorgeous girl, easily accessible whore. He loved you, he fucked you like he hated you - of course. And there were those occasions you really did scare him, darling. He was a broken man that you had to pick up piece by piece only for him to shatter all over again with leave. Arrives home like a fucking horror movie, covered in injuries and freshly sprouting injuries. Loves it, that glimmer in your eyes and a slackened jaw.

You'd run up with glossy eyes - you looked like you really cared. And he almost believed it. But god forbid you loved and cared for this monster known as John Price. The shiny dangling dog tag sticking to your chest and dangling around with every movement. Gave you a copy because he "isn't sure you would get the original when he dies, love".

So cruel, really. The way he tugs you in all different directions, mentally claiming you into a stupid and gullible thing. All just to spend hours fucking you so rough and rapidly, making you cry from the overstimulation and searing hot pleasure in your core. Your cunt squeezing around his cock in desperate attempts to be bred, milk him of his spawn. All while he kissed the back of your neck, digging his teeth to leave pretty indents in your soft flesh.

You'd gasp out sharp huffs of air - pleads for mercy -you would beg, not due to his cruel words, or that arrogant smirk with his hand grasping at your neck with all the power in the world. But because of the intimacy and vulnerability he had chosen to give only you to see this passionate and rabid beast he was reduced to in your presence a made you cry those fat hot tears of love. Love so cruel it would gag you.

And of course, to the painful end of it all, your head was left spinning, vision blurred - and fuck, he had you huffing like a fucking mutt. He'd pull his cock out, admiring the webby strands of arousal and sperm that connected the two of you. Groaning just slightly as the angry head of his cock oozed with more greedy substance, directing itself back toward your seeping entrance. So tempting, but based on your pathetic little whines and trembling legs - you were spent. Mewling like a kitten when he grazed his finger tips curiously across your swollen, puffy folds.

"Fuckin' beautiful." Price whispered, licking the salty, delectable cream of your cunt. The noise and awful buzz of insecurity in his mind slowly fading away to nothing but an empty, soothing silence. Gave him a chance to enjoy his cigarette, all while gently combing his digits across your bare back. Already had Price memorized your blemishes, scars, stretch marks; all of it little pieces he clung to desperately - figments of your reality. That mixed in with the markings of his hands, his nails; rigid scratches on your hips...

Perfection.

Time would pass, what felt like hours was really minutes of him just admiring the messy work of art he had splurted between your thighs. Groaning a bit as he leaned back, resting his sore muscles. Sooner or later you'd crawl to bury yourself against his soft, muscular form.

[a-twistedheartslonging]

Nonhuman au

This

Need

Specifically want to use jamil naga as a bed

The heat of scalding sands and scarabia being offset by cool supple scales would be so nice

Also consider

He coils up and is basically a giant nest bed

Very nice

How wonderful that he can not only be his own bed but also your bed.

Jamil is a type of Smooth-scaled snake. These snakes feel glossy and sleek due to the keratin in their scales, which is the same protein that makes up human nails and hair.

It feels very nice against the skin and his thick snake body can be fun to just...pat like a big sack of something. Do it too hard and you'll prob get squeezed.

Also, even with him being his own bed he does have a sort of nest made out of fancy pillows and silks that he coils up in. Gets pretty annoyed when Kalim wants to join in with you guys, but that is the price of being such a good bed and being good for laying on when it's hot.

He fully expects you to return the favor when it gets cold though, and not just for sleeping and cuddles. The dude is going to slither around, doing his duties with his little living heating pad riding his tail.

[l0lita-luv]

PLEASE WRITE FOR CHLOE PRICE I NEVER SEE ANYYYY SHIT FOR HER OMG PLEASE I'M OBSESSED I NEED HER PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE

Omg anon…I love you!! Honestly I feel the same way, I’ve been searching seas for more fics abt her, but I am thinking about writing more Chloe content so stay tuned!!

Minors and men dni!!

Protective

Fluff!!+Smut…

Protective!Chloe x Fem!reader

Warnings! Reader is describes wearing a skirt, smut!! Dom!Chloe, Sub!Reader, super kinky, use of strap r!receiving, oral r!receiving, pussy slapping r!receiving, degrading, slapping kink, kinda breeding king, overall Chloe being rough, use of y/n like once, being sweet Torwardsthe end.

a/n- Chloe Price supremacy.(decided to spoil u guys today)

All chloe wanted to do was to take you to the skate park to show you some stuff she had learned, not for people especially guys to hit on you!

“You’re doing great Chlo!” You cheer on your girlfriend who has been showing off some of her new skills. Chloe gives you a cheeky smile slightly blushing at your comment.

“Hey, you look really nice you know?” A male voice coming up from behind, “Oh uh thanks!” You stay stumbling over your words, this was foreign for you, since you and Chloe started dating, nobody even dared to make a move on you. Chloe noticed and darted arrows at the man.

You look over to Chloe, the guy next to you noticing, “Is that you friend?” He asks, “No, I’m her girlfriend.” Chloe replies now next to you, her hand snaking to your waist holding you close. “Oh sorry man I didn’t know!” The man quickly responds clearly afraid.

Chloe just stares until he jogs away into his car. “Gosh that was hot” You whisper to Chloe, receiving a smirk in return.

The whole car ride back home was pure torture, Chloe adding onto it by putting her hand on your thigh.

As soon as the door shut, Chloe was quick to pull you into a messy make out session. “I can’t wait any longer…” Chloe growls into your ear, whimpering at her words. She was quick to push you into your shared bedroom blindly reaching for something you couldn’t quite see.

Before you knew it, she had ripped your skirt off of you, admiring the panties you chose, “My favorite pair…” she whispers tugging them down with her teeth making you let out a whiny, “Chloe…”. You were too busy taking of your shirt to notice her attaching the harness over her hips. Not even noticing until you felt it against your core.

“You loved the attention didn’t you?” Chloe spits slapping your cunt, “No!” You manage to get out whimpering Chloe snickering at your position. “Do you deserve to get fucked?” She asks you in a low voice, you were quick to nod but receiving a slap over your face moaning, “Fuckin’ pathetic.” She growled out.

Letting out soft whines as you felt her kiss your clit, licking a long stripe between your fold making you moan, the way her tongue swirled and lapped around your soaked core made you writhe and moan out her name, “Chloe!’ You chanted searching for your release, Chloe knew you were close. “Hold it baby”.

“I’m need to cum!” You shriek but Chloe pulling away making you let out a defeated gasp giving her a pout. “Don’t look at me like that, you can take it baby.” The blue haired girl said as she slowly pushed her cock into you making you let out a choked moan.

Her hands holding your hips as your nails dug into her back, her place being steady but rough making you writhe, “Harder…” You whispered afraid at the pace she was going to go at, the last time you asked her to go faster, you couldn’t walk for almost a week.

“Harder you say?” Chloe cocks her head at you speeding up her pace immediately making you scream. You thought she was at her limit but no, if it was even possible, she sped up even quicker pushing her dick farther into you making you scream out her name. “Yeahh take this dick.” She whispered in your ear kissing you sloppily your moans going into her mouth.

You were an absolute mess, your hair all messed up and eyes glossy, your eyes barely even being able to stay open. “Keep your eyes open baby you can do it.” She says in a mean tone, a harsh slap across your face making you moan.

“Please Chloe let me cum!” You squeal scratching her back, “Go ahead baby, you deserve it.” She whispers her tone becoming more sweet as you come undone all over her strap, “Yeah baby, fucking a baby into you huh?” She says her hips still moving inside of you making you whimper.

Pulling out, she kisses you sweetly, “I love you Chlo…’ you whisper tiredly, “Love you more y/n/n, Chloe responds caressing your waist as the two of you drift off to sleep.

[ebi-noodle-doodles]

heres some Pics i took! Its the Miku Tony Ver. Figurine I got for cheap ;;-;;. I managed to get her in a very low price! I love all of the Tony ver. figurines, I wish I could get the Len and Rin one ! oh and Luka, theyre absolutely gorgeous.

more blabber about figurines!

I actually collect a bunch of Miku figs. I love this fig very much, she’s really glossy! her base is a black sparkly plastic piano tiles! I was actually surprised at the how light the hair was. She feels more plastic and a light! Her hair is a bit translucent! Scale figs really pay attention to details and this one is not a miss! The pose is so dynamic that i feel that i’m the one who’s gonna trip and fall x)! Her top is the metallic ver of her design. The glossiness makes her hair look like a bit of a cheap plastic or modeling kits like but it compliments the entire figurine and feels more like premium and flowy~ I also love the details on the nails! never forget the nails! she comes with a mic but i forgot to take pics and already displayed her with it! Im glad I got this fig sealed and brand new too!