#it stings a bit being john

[arthursfuckinghat]

Epilogue 2 - John Marston

[swordsandholly]

Cherry Bomb - tattoo parlor au anthology

MDNI | Poly 141 x Fem Fat Reader | masterlist

Part 1: New Girl

You stare up at the sign reading ONE - FOUR - ONE in old English font. It’s an old building, all brick and stuffed in between several others. The windows have a thin, semi-opaque cover them to let in the light without allowing you to see inside.

You make your way to the front door, trying the handle and feeling stupid the moment you do. Your eyes connect with a small intercom beside you and you press it. There’s a small buzz, then silence.

A few beats go by, you debate pressing it again. You don’t want to be too insistent.

“Hello?” A voice comes through just before you reach up to press again.

“I, uh…” You stutter. Despite having many, many tattoos you somehow still feel like a poser every time you enter a new studio. “I have an appointment at one? With John?”

The man on the other side confirms your name before buzzing you in, the door letting out a loud click before you step inside. It both makes you more nervous and more relaxed - you can appreciate a closed storefront like that. Especially for something often as private as tattoos and piercings, but it still feels like you’re doing something wrong. Just a little bit.

The front room is lovely, though. The texture over the glass bathes the front room in a calm, iridescent light. There are a few waiting chairs, a low, black table piled high with books of flash. The front of the high counter is covered with posters and stickers from events going all the way back to the 90s.

The pretty man behind the counter repeats your name absently, obviously thinking about other things. Probably the half-finished design that sits abandoned on the iPad next to the appointment book he’s staring down at. You just nod in agreement.

“I’ll let John know you’re here.” He nods back, turning and pushing through a pair of saloon style doors to disappear down the hall. You take the time he’s gone to look around, flipping through yet another small book of designs on top of the counter. They’re good. Unique. Very gothic and interestingly detailed. Somehow both fine and bold simultaneously.

“Afternoon.” You jump, snapping the book shut and looking up to meet a pair of soft blue eyes and an easy smile. He looks you over briefly before extending his hand. “John Price.”

You murmur your name quietly, trying very hard to not stare at the incredible traditional work patched into a sleeve up his strong arm. Damn.

He leads you back to his work station - past a piercing studio and across from another room with the door shut and an IN SESSION sign on the door. The dull, buzzing sound of a tattoo machine drifts through.

“Now,” John says as he cuts down the extra paper around the stencil. “Just remember if you don’t like the placement we can move it. No problem.”

“Okay.” You nod, appreciative that he mentioned it. Sometimes these older men in the industry are gruff and have an attitude if you do anything less than treat them as if they are anything other than Absolutely Right and Perfect. Not that John came off that way. There’s a softness in his affect that relaxes your muscles and leaves you breathing easy.

“I know y’have several but I’m still going t’do a line and then see how you feel.” He murmurs, voice low.

It’s sweet, the way he’s walking you through it all despite the piece being small and you obviously having done with process several times. The sting of the needle is as expected and you murmur that it was fine before he really gets to work.

“Just let me know if y’need a break…” He mumbles, voice dipping even lower as he concentrates on his work. In any other situation that rumble would probably have you squirming in your seat. There’s a silence for a while before he speaks again, almost as if he forgot you were there. “This design have any significance?”

“I just wanted to get a new tattoo in my new hometown.” You snort - now at the point where most of your tattoos fall under the ‘because it’s cool’ category. “Probably stupid, seeing as I don’t have a job yet but… I don’t know. Feels like good luck.”

John grins. “Well then, thanks f’lettin’ me be your good luck charm.”

Your face heats at the rumble in his voice - glancing away nervously.

There’s another lapse of silence while he works, the only words exchanged are when he asks if you need a break and you decline. Eventually, toward the end you think, he asks another question. “What brought y’here then? If not a job?”

You would shrug, but you try to keep as still as possible while he works. “Just needed a change. Found an apartment easy enough - now I just need a way to make money.”

He hums in agreement. “What do you have experience in? Been around here a while - might be able to recommend somethin’.”

“Oh! Thank you!” You brighten up. “Receptionist work, mostly. Some admin assistant stuff.”

He pauses, cocking an eyebrow. “Y’know, we’re hirin’ right now.”

“Yeah?” You tilt your head. “I don’t have, like, a resume with me.”

“You’ve got enough tattoos I’m assumin’ you know how the industry works. My apprentice is going to start actually tattooin’ soon, an’ I hate t’ have him still pickin up extra duties at the front.” He sits back, carefully smoothing saniderm onto your arm before turning and reaching for the ink-stained sketchbook behind him. “Tell y’what, you write down a few references for me and your number. If they’ve got good things t’ say we can do a trial period.”

You blink at him. He’s awful forward, and insistent, but you suppose it wouldn’t hurt to give it a try. A temp job is better than no job. “Alright…”

Just like that, you gained employment by way of making a stupid financial decision.

John’s an incredible boss. He pays fairly (generously, but you know better than to accidentally negotiate your pay down). He gives you plenty of hours and trains you well - with the help of his apprentice. He doesn’t get annoyed when you ask questions, seeming content with your determination to do your job to the best of your abilities. The shop goes by appointment only - no walk ins and potential customers have to call to book. John keeps things old fashioned like that. All pen and paper and cash transactions. An ATM sits in the waiting area. The most complicated part of your job is changing out the cash box in it, and that only take a few days to learn. Not that you mind, it’s sort of refreshing to not deal with some fuckass new and “improved” register and appointment system.

Turns out part of the reason they operate in such a way (other than preference) is because John is a big name in the tattoo world. You hadn’t realized until he pointed out a couple of your flash tattoos were from his best-selling book of designs.

“Wait, you’re famous!?” You gasp, staring wide eyed at the old binder of newspaper clippings and book sales. ‘My Mum Wasn’t Impressed At First - Now Even She Has One’ reads the title of one of the older clippings - yellowed with age. John lacks his signature beard in the photo. It almost looks wrong.

John chuckles, crossing his arms and leaning back in his rolling chair. “You could say that. You really didn’t know about our shop before you booked?”

You shake your head. “Nah, I just saw y’all get recommended on Reddit.”

He barks out a laugh at that. It’s a low, pleased sound that sends a shiver down your spine. His beard only emphasizes the apples of his cheeks as he smiles. Yeah, that’s the other thing, having a hot boss is kind of fire.

Plus, he’s not the only one. The whole studio is full of hunks.

Kyle is easily the prettiest man you’ve ever seen. Like, run for Miss Universe pretty. Big doe eyes with a little scar on his cheekbone - small golden hoops glitter from both his earlobes. They frame his face so well, creating a perfect diamond from them to his sparkling eyes to his pretty smile; curled and genuine with perfect teeth. He walks you through the booking process step by step, that first day, a warm hand on your back and the other tracing down the columns of the physical appointment book.

His work is as beautiful as he is. At least, the ones done on fake skin. John hasn’t let him tattoo anyone for real yet - but his practice sketches are immaculate. At least to a layman. Kyle himself never seems quite satisfied with them. He gets such vivid color, though.

“Tattooing darker skin is an art form in and of itself.” He murmurs as he works on a piece of very dark fake skin. “I want people like me t’ be able t’ get exactly what they want, with just as much color as they want.”

You nod along, sipping at your coffee from across the street that you’ve taken up stopping at every day before work. Kyle has so much passion for the industry. The look he gets in his eyes while talking about it or designing a new piece makes your heart flutter.

Simon, the other resident artist, you’re the least familiar with. You can’t quite decide how to feel about him, or decipher how he feels about you. John introduced you a couple days after you started, but all you got was a perfunctory nod and a ‘good luck’. You couldn’t help but feel starstruck, despite his blunt nature. Both thick arms covered in full, detailed sleeves. High quality, ornate black work. A man of stature - six feet and some change with a breadth that a barn would envy. Pretty, blonde hair cropped just short of turning to curls and dark eyes that bore through you to the very core.

Sometimes, when he comes to ask about his next appointment, you let yourself indulge in the fantasy that he stands close because he likes you. That his knee briefly knocks against yours because he wants to touch you - not that you’re crazy enough to believe it. Just crazy enough to be a tiny bit delusional for the fun of it.

You meet their resident piercer on the weekend. Apparently, he’d been away visiting family your first week.

He leans up over the counter, grinning at you from ear to ear. A well-built man only a few inches shorter than the others with a perfectly groomed mohawk. “Well, hello there. Aren’t you a bonnie little thing?”

You frown, hackles raising instinctually. “Uh, can I help you?”

“Och, they dinnae tell ye about me yet? I’m hurt.” He pouts, thick brows emphasizing the puppy like nature of his blue eyes.

“Let her be, Soap.” Kyle sighs heavily, walking to his area of the front with a fresh sketchbook.

“Soap?” You repeat.

“Aye. Cause apparently I need my mouth washed out.” He pokes his tongue out, only to reveal a silver piercing. He holds a hand over the counter. “Johnny MacTavish.”

Johnny is the most egregious man you have ever met - always touching you in one way or another when he checks in about appointments and so on. His Scottish brogue rings in your ears, every word loud and confident. A hand finds it’s way around your waist, a finger poking under the band of whatever bottoms you wear that day. At any other job, you would have considered it harassment and tore him a new one.

Johnny’s different, though. If you shrug him off he steps away, if you flinch he pulls back. Plus, he does it to everyone else just as much as you. More, if you’re honest. If Simon is within arms reach they’re touching. You noticed Johnny pushing a hand under his shirt at one point, grabbing at the soft layer over Simon’s abs. (A great view for you, frankly.) Hell, you saw him casually hold Kyle’s hand while they were talking over lunch. Even John isn’t immune to the clinging. You don’t think much of it. Body modding attracts all sorts of people. If Johnny’s just a touchy guy then he’s just touchy. Besides, you don’t mind that much when he slips an arm around your waist or hooks his chin on your shoulder to talk to you. Warm breath tracing the shell of your ear with a quiet ‘bonnie lass’ punctuating ever other sentence. A slight pinch to your hip before he trots away to set up his station.

You feel nauseous when your trial month ends. John sits you down across from him in the back office. A practical space with not much more in it than a desk, computer and the large safe. None of you spend much time back here outside of counting down the cash and dragging the trash bags through the back door to the dumpster.

“Think you’ve done really well, dove.” He grins. You try to ignore the way the pet name looks warmth in your lower belly. “You’ve picked up quickly, you’re good on the phone. Kyle’s been very happy about the extra time to practice.”

You let out the biggest, most relieved sigh of your life, shoulders slumping slightly.

“You don’t seem to mind Johnny, but if he gets to be too much let me or Simon know, yeah? He means well but he can be… well, you know.” John says absently as he reaches for something across the desk. “How are you feelin’?”

You nod. “I, uh, feel good. I like this position a lot. Everyone’s been very welcoming.”

John nods along. “Good, good. I see no reason to not hire you on full time. Here.”

You hold put your hands as John drops a small, silver key into them. Holy shit! You get your own key! Up until now they’d been buzzing you in, but they’re trusting you with your very own key!

John must see the excitement on your face because he chuckles and extends a hand. “Welcome aboard, kid.”

A/N: I was very wine drunk writing most of this and it has next to no editing but I hope you enjoyed it! I just want something I can write that’s episodic and not as serious/brain heavy as Fancy or Across the Way

[gloomwitchwrites]

okay for the what ifs…

do you know that tiktok audio of the english guy going “RIGHT. THAT’S IT. I HAVE HAD ENOUGH! E-NOUGH!!”

imagining that the t141 boys’ partners finally make them reach the end of their rope after being a little shit the whole day, so the boy(s) finally decide to do something about their attitude(s)… 👀

Well, howdy. Hello! I didn't forget about you! (And I am so sorry that it took me this long to get to this. I am very backlogged y'all.) Firstly, thank you for fielding all my questions and sending me reference videos because I desperately needed them.

And because you told me that the boys need to "correct" reader's attitude, I decided not to control the impulse and literally use this prompt as an excuse to write some smut.

For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE

Task Force 141 x Female Reader

Content & Warnings: dubcon elements, bratty behavior, ball gags, sex toys, spanking, orgasm denial, unprotected piv, creampie, anal plug, face fucking, restraints

Word Count: 1.3k

ao3 // main masterlist // imagines & what if masterlist

John Price

Being bad is fun. Wicked. Pushing buttons and riling up your man is your favorite pastime.

“Right,” says John. “That’s it.” With a deep sigh, he places his hands on his knees. Pushing off slowly, John straightens his back, arriving at his full height.

You back up but John is already striding forward, each step long and purposeful. Intent on catching you.

“I’ve had enough.” His voice is eerily calm. “Do you hear me, love?” John backs you up against the wall, one hand pressed to the plaster beside the side of your head.  “E-nough.”

“I don’t know what you’re on about,” you lie, knowing full well what you’ve done.

“That bloody attitude.” He lightly presses his hand to your throat. “I think we need to keep quiet for a bit, yeah?”

John’s shift from the front of your throat to the back is swift. In a span of a breath, John yanks you away from the wall and tosses you onto the bed. You land on your stomach, and then his weight is on you, keeping you pinned as he forces your face up.

“Let’s muzzle that mouth, yeah?”

The ball gag is in before you have a chance to protest, John’s deft hands securing it. His weight disappears, but it is short-lived. John flips you over, pushing your legs wide, exposing your bare pussy to him.

Your arousal is fresh. Wanton.

“That’s better,” he says, stroking the inside of your thigh politely.

John gives your flesh a light slap. And then another, moving lower still until he’s dangerously close to landing directly between your thighs.

“Let’s find out how sweet you sound without your words, love.”

John "Soap" MacTavish

"Right. That's it."

Johnny turns you around and bends you over in a blink. There is hardly a chance to protest or run. You've been poking at him all day, and now he's over it. Clearly.

"I've had enough." His palm comes down on your exposed ass.

You yelp, the sting fierce.

Grabbing both of your arms, he brings them around to your back, holding them in place. Putting one knee on the bed between your legs, Johnny knocks them open. Keeping your arms to your back with one hand, Johnny uses the other to slide home. It's rough, a slight sting that makes you whimper.

"I've had enough. Enough of the attitude. Enough of the backtalk. Didn't give you permission to be a brat."

Each thrust is rough, a pounding thing that sends you bouncing, but Johnny has a firm hold. You are unable to move anywhere and can only take what he gives. There is nothing sweet about this. It is pure punishment.

His hands only grip. They don't caress—don't touch. He completely ignores your pulsing clit. It needs stimulation, but Johnny is denying it, refusing to touch it. It’s a damn shame. He loves teasing it.

Johnny shifts your body, pushing your face into the bed and opening up your hips to take a deeper angle. He uses you like a toy, nothing more than an object.

"Please," you whimper, but he ignores you.

His pace becomes erratic, and then fizzles out as he seals your bodies together. You feel the burst, and hear his low groan. For a moment, there is a lull, and then nothing.

"You want release, love?"

You nod against the bed, turning your head. "I want it. Please."

Johnny releases your arms and then steps away. "Too bad. You'll do without." He places a hand on the bed next to your head. Leaning forward, he comes into view. "If you correct your behavior. I'll give you what you want."

Simon "Ghost" Riley

Simon’s sigh is loud. "Right," he says, eerily calm. 'That's it."

You’ve rarely ever seen him upset. Simon might raise his voice or get into someone’s face, but it mostly just for show. It’s not real anger. It’s when Simon is utterly calm that you should worry.

It's your own fault, too. All day you've been annoying him, being a brat, pushing his buttons simply because you like it when he deals out punishment.

"I've had enough. Enough of your attitude. Of your antics."

Pushing him a bit couldn’t hurt.

"You hear me? I've had enough."

"I don't know what you're—"

You're flipped onto your stomach without ceremony. Simon has your pajama bottoms off and your ass cheeks spread in seconds.

"Simon!" you protest, clawing at the bed.

He yanks open the bedside table. You turn your head, noticing the bottle of lube and the anal plug.

"You want punishment? You'll get it."

You attempt to push yourself up but Simon shoves you right back down, flattening you as he lathers up the plug.

“What—oh.” Simon doesn’t force it in. He eases it. Slowly. “Oh—fuck,” you moan, elongating the vowel.

The resistance is short. It’s in, stretching. Sitting snug. Your pussy clenches around nothing but is already throbbing, wanting something inside it.

"Come here," growls Simon, turning you onto your side.

He lifts your top leg, opening you wide for him. With your ass against him and your pussy exposed to the air, Simon lines the head of his cock up and thrusts home.

He's not sweet. Each thrust is sharp and deep, balls bouncing against you with each movement. You’re filled in both holes, unable to pull away—but it’s not like you want to. It’s the punishment you’re after.

Simon presses his lips to your ear. "This is about me. About getting what's mine. You want to be a brat? To rile me up? Then in return, you'll be my slut.”

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

Kyle turns the television off.

You sit up, turning in his direction. "Rude.”

Kyle sets the remote down on the table. "You want to explain your behavior today."

You swallow, and feign innocence. "Don't know what you're talking about."

Kyle frowns. "Hold out your arms."

"Kyle—"

"Do it. Wrists together."

You present them. Kyle undoes and removes his belt with one hand. He wraps the leather around it, buckling it in place. He gives your arms a tug, bringing you to the very edge of the sofa.

"I didn't do anything."

A lie. You did plenty. Snarky and sassy replies to all of his texts, not answering your phone when he called. Criticizing his driving in the car, and then his parking. You were a menace.

"Right," muses Kyle. He sighs. "I've had enough." With another yank, Kyle brings your face close to his groin. "Enough." You open your mouth to add one last quip but Kyle is having none of it. "You've been running your mouth all day. I know what you're after, love. And you're not getting it."

You stand your ground, if though you have nothing to stand on. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Kyle smirks. You know he knows.

"Open your mouth," he says, unbuttoning the front of his jeans. His free hand palms his dick. Kyle arches a single eyebrow, daring you to defy him.

You keep your mouth closed.

“Don’t test me.”

And still, you do not obey.

Kyle twists his wrist, tightening the lead on the belt. It pulls taut, so much so that it briefly bites into your skin. It surprises you, drumming up an audible gasp.

It’s his opportunity.

His dick is in your mouth in seconds, using the belt to pull you forward, sliding more of his length down your throat. When you attempt to pull back, Kyle grabs the back of your head.

You’re stuck and full of him.

"Let's put that mouth to better use.”

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[oceantornadoo]

quiet hours (john price x f!reader)

there is a power dynamic but it’s discussed, price is a major simp, some time jumps

—

price’s office couch. a brown and beaten thing, a comfortable touch on the side of his desk. john himself had never used it, but kept it from the office’s last occupant, a buffer in case someone tried to cross over to his side of the room. that was, of course, before you.

it started when your leg was injured. he let you prop up your leg on the couch and somewhere during the twenty minute mark of your conversation, you fell asleep. any other solider and john would have reprimanded them, tossed them out, but you looked so peaceful, soft lips parted slightly. he left you a note, come back anytime, not wanting to risk the sting of rejection to his face.

it became your ritual. you didn’t sleep well at night but as a high ranking SAS member, you had some freedom in your daily schedule for occasional naps. he liked hearing your soft sighs as he worked, going so far as to keep a silk pillow for you when he heard you complain about your hair on leather. you chatted or you didn’t, always leaving with a small smile and “thanks, cap.”

even the rest of base knew 3-5pm were quiet hours, a small sign posted on his door. the couch wasn’t big and with the angle of the door, most people didn’t even realize you were in there when they popped in to ask a question. john guarded you like a dragon with his jewels, chewing out recruits for being too loud, never explaining your presence to anyone.

right now, you were sound asleep, your small sighs like john’s personal soundtrack to heaven. simon had knocked silently, asking some important question about an upcoming mission, and john huffed with annoyance knowing he had to leave you. he got out of his chair, carefully so it wouldn’t squeak, and made his way over to you. squatting down, he rubbed a gentle hand over your face, tracing your relaxed cheekbones and brow. “sweetheart, i have t’ go. be back in few.” you whimpered, eyes fluttering, half drunk on sleep. “you’re leaving?” he shook his head, leaning in so his forehead touched your own. his hand slid towards your neck and brought you closer, practically a kiss. the comfort of it was delicious and you let out a contented sigh. “jus’ for a bit. go back to sleep, bub.” he peeled back, evaluating what kind of captain he was. apparently not a very good one as he kissed your forehead before getting up, the skin on skin contact rushing through his bones like electricity.

simon was waiting patiently outside, his relaxed look menacing to the passing recruits. he fell into step with price easily, walking towards their favored meeting spot. “tellin’ her soon?” john shook his head, dragging an exhausted hand down his face. tell you what? that you were strong and lovely and the most gorgeous creature he’d ever seen, on and off the battlefield? that the only way he slept at night was imagining your own sleepy sighs? that for some idiotic reason, there was a ring burning a hole in his sock dresser? “too soon, lieutenant.” simon huffed, the glint of a smirk under his mask. “been half a year, cap. jus’ sayin’.” john fought the urge to run back to his office, to make sure no one bothered you. “she’s just sleepin’ there, nothin’ special.” simon side eyed him, noting the stress lines and crow’s feet on his captain’s face. “i’ll tell johnny ‘s nothin’ special then. heard he’s interested.”

john prided himself on keeping his emotions in check. it was one of the revered traits of his captain position, the glue to the team. in that moment however, stopped mid stride at his lieutenant’s words, shoulders bunching and fists tightening, he wanted to kill half his team. “you will do no such thing, lieutenant. that’s an order.” simon clapped him on the shoulder with his short barking laugh, amusement dancing in his eyes. “roger that.”

—

“i don’t know gaz, do you really think he likes me?” gaz had popped in to price’s for a question but you were there instead, half awake and confused. he liked the couch too, tucking himself at the far end and pulling your socked feet into his lap. “‘ve never seen cap let anyone else sleep here. if that’s not a sign, don’t know what is.” you rolled your eyes, keeping them on the ceiling. “well i’ve been sleeping here almost six months and got a forehead kiss to show for it.” gaz froze, his hands stilling on your ankle. “you’re takin’ the piss.” as if. “am not! happened fifteen minutes ago and i’ve been overanalyzing it since.” gaz tried to reason how two of the smartest people he knew were such idiots. “darling, you’re practically married now. i’ve never seen-“ the door swung open, john’s strides minutely faltering when he saw gaz on the couch. “back to work, garrick. close the door behind you.” gaz acknowledged him with a nod and suddenly price was in his place, drawing your feet on the top of his legs.

“everyone wants a piece of you, don’t they?” it was nonsensical, what he murmured, almost to himself. you pressed your feet into his thigh until he got the memo, strong hands circling your ankles and pulling them into his lap. “what do you mean, cap? gaz was just visiting.” he hummed a non reply, fingers tracing the scar of where your foot injury used to be. “this all better?” your brows furrowed at the change in topic, nodding your head on instinct. “right as rain, sir.” his thumb, callused and strong, was pressing into your ankle now. it was like john was in a trance, fully focused on your worn socks, refusing to look at your face. “how long have you been sleepin’ here with a perfectly fine foot, sergeant?” your mouth dropped, confusion clouding your brain. “i- bout four months, sir. i sleep better here than my own bed.” he finally turned his head, his dark blue gaze searing into you. “why’s that?” it was barely loud enough for you to hear it, croaked out with a herculean effort. “because you’re here. i don’t, don’t really know why. you’re comforting and safe and smell nice…” you trailed off at the last bit, cheeks warming in embarrassment.

john tucked himself in and laughed, the air from his lungs brushing over your ankles. you answered with a small giggle, still unsure about your blunder. “whole time it was my smell keepin’ you here. way to kill a man’s ego, sweetheart.” you grinned, sitting up on your elbows. you pressed your foot into the side of his face, forcing him to look at you instead of his lap. “it’s you, john. keeping me here.” the temperature dropped, his ministrations froze. all you did was look, your eyes wide and pleading. begging him to just see, see why you kept coming back like his own personal lapdog.

you were moving, john tugging you closer by the ankles, strong hands moving up your calves until the rest of you was right there. he fixed the awkward angle by leaning down, one hand propped near your head, the other coming down to stroke your cheek. “say it’s true.” his eyes were still searching for something, so rare for you to see your captain look so unsure. “this couch isn’t even that comfortable so trust me, it’s true.” you had hoped humor would lighten the situation but your murmured truth made the air heavier, your heaving chest almost touching his own. “i’m too old for you.” you rolled your eyes. “you’re like four years older, get a grip.” he pinched your cheek, muttering cheeky under his breath. “i’m your captain.” your own hand came up on instinct, fingers finally touching the beard you dreamed about. the strands were soft but slightly scratchy, like he had a routine he occasionally forgot. “you’re john price. anyone who knows you knows that you won’t give me special treatment. i’ll run extra laps everyday.” your fingers were exploring now, thumb running down the bridge of his nose to the top of his lips. you both shuffled without realizing, your legs on either side of his torso, cradling his hips. his forearms bracketed your face, caging you in.

“i don’t love lightly. no friends with benefits or any of that bullshit.” you drew him in closer, one foot on his lower back until your pelvises kissed. “good. i want a man who can commit.” whatever he had been looking for, he found in your wide eyed gaze. “i’m…out of excuses.”

the kiss wiped out john’s memory of any kiss before it. it was slow and possessive, a claiming. six months of you just out of his reach would drive any man to this point, john reasoned. that’s why he took his time, exploring every angle and pressure point, searching for those breathy sighs you always made. he didn’t have to do much - one nip of the lip and you were singing for him, melting into his arms. you wrapped them around his neck, pulling him deeper. by this time next year, i’m proposing. john let the thought grow wings and fly, content to explore your touch as he wondered about white wedding cake and matching rings.

—

years later, no matter how you both decided to decorate your new house together, he insisted on a brown couch for his office. something hideous and comfortable, not matching the decor at all. something just for the two of you.

- -

price intimacy brainrot (i’m PMSing)

[starsofang]

Get Well Soon john price x f!reader word count: 4.3k tw: MDNI, NSFW, jealous price, possessiveness, oral sex, fingering, dirty talk, just a bit nasty ngl

Jealousy was a disease, and John was its desired host that it ravaged with an unfurling blaze of smoldering flames that scorched through the bloodstream like injected venom. It simmered at the bones and left him scathed, dissipating into bitter ash that filled the air around him with the pungent scent of his own distaste.

In other words, John really fucking hated seeing you wrapped around Soap like a damn boa constricter ready to sink your fangs into him like a feast.

The whiskey he’d been sipping on with tedious sips was now thrown back into his throat, sliding down to his stomach and leaving him with an acidic aftertaste. The alcohol only coaxed the fire into an uproar, the tips of the flames flicking its red-hot tongue in the flesh of his skin and scalding him with third degree burns from the inside and out.

He tried focusing on the emptiness that stared back at him from the bottom of his glass, fingers coated in the icy condensation where he gripped around it with vice. It prickled his fingertips, the force of his grasp causing his knuckles to go white and veins to flex uncomfortably in the back of his hand.

But the grim sight of melting ice wasn’t nearly as intriguing as the sight of you, the woman who’s been gnawing your way through his skin and bone for the past however-the-fuck-long that John’s been tongue-tied over you, smiling like a cheshire while Soap maneuvered you around on the dance floor of the dimly lit club, dipping his fingertips in the fat of your hips.

Your hips swayed in earnest, Soap and you sharing a laugh as he tried to replicate your pace and ended up stumbling around like a damn fool. The spark of amusement that shimmered in your irises was so bright, John could see it from where he sat at the bar. It blinded him, like a flashbang being hurled his way without a single ounce of warning, causing his ears to ring and his eyes to blink away the dryness that dusted his retinas.

He shouldn’t be mad, really. You weren’t his, and he wasn’t yours.

Soap was simply livening the mood after a grueling mission was deemed a success. John was the one that offered to take you out, allowing you a night free of suffocating peril, yet here he was, moping like a child who’d just gotten his video games taken away.

He wasn’t a jealous man. He’d never taken an interest in a woman long enough for it to tread into that type of territory, and his work occupied him like a slave to commitment – commitment to the job, and never to a pretty woman deserving of much more than him.

Yet, you had somehow begun worming your way into his brain, molding it to the shape of you. Your smile, your laugh, the way you chewed your lip when deep in thought, the plush skin reddening under its abuse and clashing with the tone of your skin. Everything about you was hardwired into his brain, filed away and hidden in the depths of his thoughts.

It was selfish of him, he knew.

You were his subordinate – if he could call you that, really. You worked with Laswell, which meant you worked with him. A package deal, one he had no choice but to accept when it came down to it.

He was playing a dangerous game, allowing the churlish spur of envy to grab him by the throat and choke him into submission. It darkened his vision with spots of red rage, lighting with a flicker of flames that illuminated in the reflection of his pupils.

But John was a fond lover of games, given his track record of coaxing enemy intel out of the lips of grotty men through the bite of his threatening words and the sting of his knife into their mangy skin. He knew how to play to get what he wanted, what he needed, but you were a puzzle with thousands of pieces that he just couldn’t figure out how to complete.

He clung to you like a moth to a flame. A dog to its bone. A bullet to a wound.

You were his ecstasy that he could no longer deny, and he was slowly succumbing to the addiction. He got high off of the very being of you, injecting you into his veins with guilty pleasure.

And John didn't know how much longer he could starve himself from his fix.

Unable to watch the way Soap embraced you with a feverish warmth that had your expression melted into content gratification, he stood from the bar stool with a lick of virulent hostility, the legs scraping against the floor like nails to a chalkboard. Gaz spared him a worrying look, and when he went to open his mouth to ask if he was okay, John sent him a dismissive wave of his hand, muttering a gravelly ‘smoke break’ before taking off.

The chill of the night air smothered him with a relieving shiver down his spine, nipping his cheeks that were warmed from a mix of club smog and alcohol firing in his bloodstream. He was far from drunk, far from tipsy, but the burning desire he harbored for you made him feel the buzz of a high that hazed over all thoughts of calm serenities.

Leaning against the old brick of the club, he sifted a hand through the pocket of his jacket, fishing out a cigarette. Cigars were much more his taste, but unenjoyable when having to shove them in the bowels of a cramped pocket.

Lighting it up and taking a thick puff, the burn of smoke did nothing to calm the hideous monster that dared to rear its head against the fabrics of his heart. It was hungry, vengeful, baring its teeth in hopes of sinking them into flesh and bone, tearing its victim apart limb by measly limb.

The music boomed faintly from the closed door of the club, pounding vexing notes through his eardrums and tainting them with a distasteful noise.

John continued his routine of inhale and exhale, dipping into the dance of wispy smoke that surrounded him and basked his aura in musk and pungency. It swallowed him whole, enough so that he didn’t hear the whisk of the club door opening from beside him, and a familiar voice sparking fireworks in his mind.

“Sir!” you exclaimed, and John felt his shoulders tense with wavering remembrance of the way Soap wrapped his tattered arms around you, his lips leaned in close to your ear to speak with you over the loudness of the music, the way he was the reason you were giggling like schoolgirl off her rocker. “I didn’t see you at the bar. You feeling okay, Captain?”

The name left a tangy taste in his mouth. Bittersweet, souring.

“Thought I told you to call me John,” he grumbled with a ghost of a smile, tight and forced. It was more a grimace than a smile, as of course you would notice. Of course.

Keen eye, you had. It was one of the many traits John found himself falling into.

“John,” you corrected with a smile so bright, it practically laid out all of the stars in the sky in a shimmering blanket of wondrous light. “Why are you out here and not inside with the others?”

John had to hold back a lingering scoff that threatened to claw its way out of purgatory and fill the air with bitter irk.

“Got a bit stuffy in there, don’t you think?” he offered in place of spiteful words, but even at his attempt, the words came out clipped if your frown was anything to come by. “Needed a break.”

“You seemed bothered, Cap– John.”

“Mm.”

Your frown deepened and it only burdened him further. He didn’t want to be the reason for your upset, but that green little gremlin that coaxed him into anguished jealousy didn’t give two shits. It settled into his bones with enervating annoyance, paining him with ache.

“Don’t let me stop you from your fun with Soap,” he muttered dryly, uttering the words before he could stop himself.

Your eyebrows raised and you stared at him for a long moment, taking him in. His tense shoulders, tight lips pulled into a thin line, his firm grip on his cigarette that would’ve snapped it in half if he used an ounce more of strength.

“Something’s bothering you, sir,” you noted, and he gave you a taut smile.

“Look at that. Quite the brain on you.”

“No need to be rude about it, John.”

“Not being rude.”

“You are.”

John sucked in a sharp breath, nostrils flaring when he deeply exhaled. His eyes bore into yours like frigid icicles ready to pierce into you. It was chilling to the bone, sending an unsettling shiver down your spine. John noticed.

“It’d be best if you head on inside,” he hummed, his tone quipped with a hint of warning.

“Really?” you asked in disbelief and he snorted.

“Really.”

John knew he was being unfair. His envy was eating at him from the inside, bubbling its way out in molten poison that burned in his mouth.

“Something is clearly bothering you, Captain. Is it a crime to check on you?” Your tone began matching his own sour one, biting into him like a feral dog with its hackles raised.

“What’s a crime is you saddlin’ up with Soap like he’s your bloody suitor,” he hissed, and there it was, the bitter taste of frothing temper seeping out of his lips like red-hot lava. It scalded him, leaving him with third degree burns on his tongue. “Lettin’ him have at you like a fuckin’ dove for the takin’.”

“What?” you breathed, eyebrows knitting together in bafflement. “What are you trying to say?”

“What I’m tryin’ t’say, what I’ve been wantin’ t’say, is that I don’t like the way he was touchin’ you,” he declared in earnest. He stood straight from where he was leaned against the wall, glowering down at you with a look that could’ve pinned you to the gravel beneath your foot. “I’ve been patient. I’ve kept my distance. But enough’s a fuckin’ ‘nough.”

You didn’t cower under his looming glare, nor did you take a step back like you should’ve. You remained firmly rooted in your spot next to him, eyes flickering between the scowl on his mouth to the fiery eyes that threatened to burst into explosion any second.

“You’re jealous, Captain,” you stated, quite obviously. It tickled the little monster that was nearly bursting out of his skin.

“Rightfully so,” he muttered. “I don’t like people touchin’ what’s mine.”

“I wasn’t aware that I was yours to begin with, Captain.”

“John,” he reminded you. “I’d be happy to make you aware of it. Print it in that pretty head of yours so you won’t forget it.”

Warmth blossomed under your skin, spreading from head to toe and curling you into his burning embers. The words struck you like lightning, quick and sudden, leaving you dazed.

You could smell the faint cigarette smoke and whiskey in the fan of his breath as it settled over your face. You took it in, breathing through your nostrils and letting it settle to the core. It was musky and fragrant, stirring your brain into goopy mush.

“How’s that sound, sweetheart?” he mused, nearly sending you into an early grave. Fuck, you’d dig it yourself if it meant hearing those words on repeat.

“I–” You swallowed, mouth suddenly parched.

John stepped closer to you, a dangerous and brooding step. His frame towered over yours, head tilted down to ensure eye contact remained secured. He wouldn’t allow you to look away, wouldn’t allow you the chance to catch your breath. He knew what he was doing, knew what you were feeling.

“Just say the word,” he breathed, tickling your nose with his piquant scent. “Say the word and I’ll make it happen, sweetheart.”

“Yes,” you managed, voice less confident than it had been before when you let your frustration get the better of you. Submissive, willing.

John’s lips perked into a pleased smile, eyes brimming with amusement and risk. He was taking the leap off of a daunting cliff, diving headfirst in a pool of unknown and uncertainty. But oh, he was certain of this.

You tasted the poignant flavors that melted from his tongue on to yours when he sealed his offer with a kiss. It was demanding, stern, his mouth molding into yours in the shape of a promise.

He traveled the shape of your jaw, rough hand entangling itself in the feathers of your hair. Tugging, wrapping it in his grasp, luring you into him with a burning desire to mark what was his. It was fire mixing with gasoline, burning scriptures in your skin, burning his name.

John swallowed every gasp and groan, eager and greedy. He captured your bottom lip with teeth, sinking in with a grueling bite, carving his indents into the plush flesh. He barely allowed you to gather air in your lungs, and it left you feeling dizzy, untrusting of your own legs to keep you steady.

“Do me a favor, love,” he grunted in the midst of your kiss, pulling back only to get a glimpse of the glossy look in your eyes. “Go on and tell the boys you aren’t feelin’ well and I’m takin’ you home. Had too much to drink, so I’m gettin’ you to bed, hm? Can you do that f’me?”

Your breath was shaky when you released a sigh, and nodded in tenacity, practically scrambling back into the club like a dog with its tail between its legs.

John stayed true to his promise of taking you home and tucking you into bed – just not in the way the boys were told.

He was like a predator pouncing on its prey the moment you arrived at your humble abode. His hands explored every expanse of your body, shedding you until you were bare with a trail of clothes leading to your bedroom in its wake.

He was famished, like a man starved for weeks on end, and the only thing that would satiate him was ravishing you to the bone.

You thought after agreeing that you were John’s and he was yours, it would feed his burning anger warranted from jealousy. If anything, it was the opposite.

He was firm and demanding, determined to etch every part of him into the plains of your skin. His hands were skilled in the way he practically shoved you into the mattress, lips remaining locked into place on your own.

He was a man on a mission, and you knew John to be one to never fail to complete it.

“M’gonna show you exactly what’s botherin me,” he mumbled into your mouth. His voice was raspy and guttural, laced with an undeniable wisp of arousal. “Been botherin’ me for ages.”

True to his word, his lips, chapped with a sheen of your mixed saliva moistening them, trailed down the column of your neck. They were neither rough or soft kisses, but rather balanced and precise. Teeth nicked the sensitive skin, taking it between tender bites and nursing the hissing stings with the point of his tongue.

Marking his territory, just as promised.

“You never said anything,” you acknowledged through a breathy sigh, lips parted and hazy eyes pointed at the ceiling as he worked wonders on your jawline.

“Didn’t have the gall to, ‘til I saw you cozied up with Mactavish,” he grunted, and as if the thought passing by in remembrance settled into his brain, he bit down a bit harder on the spot where your neck and shoulder met.

John peppered his kisses down from your clavicle, creating a trail to your sternum. It tingled with a feverish burn, spotting your skin with a faint flush. One of his calloused hands slid up your side, prompting a shiver along the way, until it grasped the mounds on your chest in a possessive hold.

His tongue darted out to circle a perked nipple, teasing, mocking. You couldn’t hold back the pathetic whine, and the rumble of his smug chuckle vibrated your whole body. Offering mercy, he enveloped the entirety of your nipple in his mouth, grazing his teeth along the sensitive bud and causing you to hiss in a mix of pain and pleasure – perfectly balanced, because John was a calculated man, and he never left a job unsatisfactory.

Your thighs rested limply on each side of his waist, and when he gave a particularly hard suck, they tightened around him, knees knocking into the thick of his ribcage. Instantaneously, his other hand that wasn’t occupied with holding your breast came to grab hold of your knee, carefully peeling it away from where it rested on the warmth of his skin, tugging you apart until you were spread and vulnerable.

That same hand slowly slipped down your knee, sweeping along your inner thigh and worshiping the smooth skin with a swipe of his fingertips. They were rough against your skin in comparison, and the sensation made you jolt.

They continued their downward exploration until you felt the subtle touch of a finger experimentally slide along your slit. You wanted to feel embarrassed by how wet you were from nothing more than kissing and him ravishing your breasts like he was feasting on a meal, but you couldn’t.

Judging from his muffled groan, he didn’t seem to mind it either.

“Fuckin’ soaked and I haven’t even touched you,” he observed, rearing his head back from your chest so he could gleam down at the sight of you spread out for him, glistening in the dim light of the room, forming a sheen over the tips of his fingers.

An embarrassed noise sounded in the back of your throat and you tilted your head to the side to avoid his smoldering gaze. He tutted, grabbing hold of you by the chin to force you to look back at him. His eyes were lit up with the same fire as before, yet this time, it burned brightly, illuminating his thirst for salvation.

“Don’t do that,” he said, tone dripping with the command of the leader he was and had always been. “You’re goin’ to look at me while I take you. Had no problem lookin’ at Soap when you danced with him, so you should have no problem lookin’ at me when I make you come on my tongue.”

You had to close your eyes to compose yourself, sucking in a sharp breath that pierced your lungs and filled your chest with an ache only he could soothe. They sent shocks through your body, lighting up like fireworks.

When John seemed satisfied that you’d listen, that you’d digested every word and command that slipped off his tongue, he let go of your chin, pleased to see you kept your promise of keeping your eyes on him.

He returned his attention to your silky cunt, dipping a finger in the slick that seemed never ending. His mouth was practically watering at the visual, and he was desperate for a taste.

John wasted no time in stooping down to be leveled with your cunt, breath fanning over it and causing you to squirm. He sent you a warning glare before poking out his tongue, gliding it over the sensitive nub before fully engulfing his mouth around it.

The sound you released was near inhuman, strangled and choked in surprise. His mouth was warm and inviting as he began devouring you, humming greedily at the tangy taste that smoothed over his tongue and filled his mouth.

It was intoxicating, addicting, surging through his bloodstream like a high he’d never come down from. Hazy, clouded. It disoriented him, smoothing over his mind with nothing but thoughts of consuming you until you were a puddled mess.

Your hand found its way in his hair, tangling in the mess of strands and tugging. Possessive in the way you pushed him deeper into your core, his nose digging into you as he inhaled the sweetness of your scent. The smell of you attracted him like hummingbirds to nectar, and he couldn’t get enough.

“Fuck,” he breathed into you, and the gust of air mixed with warmth and a slight chill all at the same time had you whining. “Look at you. Such a pretty little thing, aren’t you?”

He didn’t bother to wait for your answer before diving right back into you. He didn’t want to hear words, he didn’t want to hear smugness. All he wanted was to hear those sweet sounds filter out of you, like a soothing song playing on repeat.

He became more possessive in the way he took you, the subtle tenderness he was showing before melting into filth. Your slick soaked into the coarse hairs of his beard, chin dripping with evidence of your arousal that only became more pungent the more he sucked and prodded.

“John,” you whimpered helplessly, and he rumbled with a satisfied noise, so you repeated his name. It became pleading, desperate, voice turning into a shaky mess that only sent his mouth into overdrive.

The ghost of a fingertip brushed along the rim of your entrance, and when you took a breath, he seized the opportunity to sink it into you, all the way to the knuckle. It curled into you, before pulling out then pumping back in. It became a dance, the way his finger fucked into you with curious ambition, and it had you pooling into a moaning mess, writhing from stimulation.

His eyes fluttered up to meet yours with his mouth still wrapped around your clit, and you nearly gushed just from the look of him alone – beads of sweat already dotting on his hairline, brows furrowed in concentration, eyes dark and sultry with intentions of ruining you. They locked on to yours and never left for a single moment, not even when he stretched you open with a second finger, then a third.

It was all so fucking much. You could barely think with him filling you, curving right into that sweet spot of serenity that had stars bursting in your vision. Your body moved on its own accord, and to keep you still, he placed a thick arm over the plains of your stomach, holding you down while keeping the other occupied in the tightness of your cunt.

Too much, so much, all at once. It had your mind in the skies, floating on clouds of euphoria.

John seemed to map out your body language just from one taste of you on his tongue along, because when your stomach began to tighten and flex, legs trembling and quivering, he pulled his mouth away from you, fucking you with his fingers with a quickened pace.

“You goin’ to come, sweetheart? Hm?” he asked, and it felt as if he was teasing you. Mocking you, filled with overwhelmed smugness. “Goin’ to come from my mouth like I told you?”

You nodded vigorously, shameless in your own desperation. The squelch of his fingers dripping into your cunt with every shallow thrust was enough to leave you breathless. They filled you with a frantic need, shooing away the emptiness you once felt and submerging you in a febrile warmth.

“Good fuckin’ girl,” he praised, and it had you keening.

You attempted to lift your hips, pushing them in the direction of his mouth. He released a hearty chuckle, eyes crinkling from his bashful smile before he gave in to what you wanted, Mouth returning to your cunt, sinking into you like a feral animal, quenching his thirst and hunger.

You cried out, hand tightening in his hair. It was almost instant that you felt the coil of string ready to snap at any moment, tearing and tearing, bordering you on the edge of breaking apart.

His tongue flattened over your clit before circling his lips and giving it a hard suck, all while curling his fingers once more. That was enough to send you over the edge, your climax hitting you like a collapsing building, smothering you in its aftermath.

Your entire body shook, wetness gushing around his fingers as you clenched on them for dear life. You ground your hips subconsciously, fucking yourself on his fingers and riding out the seamless paradise and basking in the warm light. All thoughts blanked into nothing but your own ecstasy, and you selfishly drowned yourself in waves of rapture.

You were in heaven, you were one with the angels, singing godly praises with a halo over your head and a fluorescent glow that accumulated around you. This was what peace on Earth felt like, this was what it felt like to die and be reborn.

John’s voice was the gospel, embracing you with clarity and purpose, guiding you to the pearly gates to seek pursuit of happiness.

When John pulled away from you and carefully slipped his fingers out of you, he brought them up to your view, flaunting them with pride. His chin was soaked, glistening with sinful beauty, mangling itself in the hairs of his beard.

If you weren’t so high off of pleasure, you might’ve thought that John was God himself, smiling down at you from the clouds and showering you with loving conviction.

“See that, sweetheart?” he asked, referring to the sticky strings that stuck together when he parted his fingers. “That’s from me. And nobody’s goin’ to get a chance to taste you like I have. We clear on that?”

It was a silly thing for him to even state, given he had just taken you to oblivion, but you nodded anyway, going as far to even hum in dazed satisfaction when he brought his slick-covered fingers to your lips and you wiped them clean.

Jealousy was a disease, and you were the only thing that could cure John of the simmering rage that came with it. Now that he’d made it clear who you belonged to, the ugly monster returned to hibernation, and the sickening green that tainted his insides melted into worlds of color that only you could paint.

wrote this for my girly @ebodebo because i've been deprived of john and needed to write something for him asap, so i hope this met your needs (I need this man so badly it's unhealthy) <3

if you see any writing mistakes, mind you it’s 3am and i woke up to write this so no u didn’t

[elysianightsss]

Okay but can we just talk about run away bride reader and soft dark John price.

Your poor fiancé is stood there like what has he done wrong? And that’s the problem, not a damn thing but there’s this gorgeous burly man double your age that’s wormed his way into your heart and between your legs. For weeks he’s been attacking your pussy with his addictingly greedy mouth, it really was an accident. Your bachelorette party had ended with you being black out drunk, your ‘friends’ had left you at whatever club you had been at to move onto the next one when John found you. You could barely sting two words together when he asked you where you lived after carrying you into his jeep, he didn’t know what to do but he couldn’t leave you at that club and Simon was too busy making it with some woman inside, he wanted to go home. Honestly taking you home with him started off entirely innocent but once he go you back to his place and a little bit of water in you, you had began to open up to this stranger about your life. How you were getting married in three weeks and you were scared out of your mind to be married to this guy you’d been with for three years all because of one thing; he had never made you cum.

You explained to the beefy man with a canal glint in his darkened blue eyes in front you that you’d tried everything. At first you faked your orgasms out of courtesy and kindness. Then the emotional and physical toll was too much and you ended up confessing to him. He didn’t take it too well at first but then he asked you to show him how to be better. This really made you happy, he accepted the issue and wanted to fix it. So you showed him in every way that he could, your fingers and your toys and he really looked like he was taking it all in.

Then he took over and any progress you had made building up this wonderful climax completely shattered as he rubbed the wrong place and pushed all the toys off the bed looking offended by them. You even moved in an attempt to slip his fingers onto your clit….and he…he fucking moved them away. You remember the way your eyes stung with tears of frustration, the way your heart ached with want and need. How you felt so used when he had sex with you, he mumbled that he had urned his reward after rubbing you in the wrong spot for five minutes. You remember how you cried in the shower while he slept. And you in your drunken state told John all of this. By the time you were done he looked dangerous and rigid. He knew there were guys out there that didn’t know much about the female body but he couldn’t believe that some cunt had done that to you and by the sounds of it continued to do it for years on end. You were so beautiful, how could that guy not even bother to take the time to learn your body. To commit your wants and needs to memory. That’s how you ended up on your back naked with John kneeling at the edge of the bed face to face with your dripping pussy. John did think about it and maybe if he were a nicer guy he would care that you weren’t sober, maybe he would care that you were engaged but you just looked so sad and he couldn't let a sweet little thing like you go your entire life only giving yourself an orgasm.

His head lulls to the side, his cheek smushing against the inside of your thigh “Such a pretty cunt.” He sighs, the tip of his finger spelling out his name on your clit. His piercing eyes meet yours and your breath gets caught in your throat, the lust swirling in his dark eyes is so enticing. Plus the way he’s on his knees for you, you wouldn’t ever get tired of seeing it.

Your clit pulses erratically anticipating his next move. It’s quick and it makes you jump but then you’re whining into the air, because how can you not when he’s sucking you into his mouth like a starved man. Your body burns with pleasure but it’s oh so delicious his tongue working wonders on your cunt.

“Please-“ you pause, somewhere in your haziness you realise you don’t know whose name you should be calling out, he pulls off you with a soft pop. “John.” “Please John.”

“No flower. You can wait, I’m gonna enjoy this cunt and you’re gonna lay there and take it.” He scowls, placing sloppy kisses up your thigh. “If I have to tie you to this bed, I fucking will.” His lips smack together as his eyes leave yours once more, the pad of his thumb sliding through your folds. “Your pussy is already dripping flower, I’m gonna make you gush.” He grunts leaning forward pressing his nose against you with a sharp inhale. He can’t ever get enough of you.

John looks up his cerulean eyes finding yours at the exact moment his mouth latches onto you once more. It feels so good it hurts, the heat from his mouth has you twisting and squirming. His right hand moves up reaching until they touch your lips, a quick tap against them and you open just enough for him to slip his fingers inside. A muffled ‘suck’ has you closing your lips around them, getting them nice and wet.

He groans against your wet heat images of you sucking his cock the way you’re sucking his fingers floating through his mind. You sob, your body starting to shake when he pushes two thick fingers inside you, the intrusion making you gasp. They rub along your velvety walls bringing a new wave of pleasure, the feeling builds becoming more intense with every thrust.

His tongue laps at your clit while he searches and searches until you squeal “There it is”, he finds exactly what he was looking for striking the spot over and over again watching your back arch off the bed. A ‘fuck yeah sweetheart’ slipping out when you gush all over his hand.

You excepted him to move away, to release your pussy from his torturous mouth but he doesn’t. The bastard stays put the tip of his tongue flicking against you, the sensitivity pulling whines and whimpers from you….you think it was six, no seven definitely seven orgasms, heck you lost count after the third. Your body tired but fuck did you need his cock more than anything. You lay on your side gripping the sheets so tightly as John slides in behind you, his arms pulling you taut against him as you mewl into the air.

“I know flower I know you just have to let me in is all, nothing more.” He strokes your hair moving it out the way so he can press his cheek to yours, it’s so intimate and sweet. And yet when he lifts up your left leg, bending it at the knee so he can slip his ridged veiny shaft inside your tight cunt. You feel the sweet sweet burn of the orgasmic stretch that you never thought you’d feel in your life.

You just about manage to make out the time on the clock before your vision blurs and tears streak down your cheeks meeting the dried ones that had already fallen earlier with your over sensitivity. He feels so fucking good, with each thrust you’re pushed closer to the edge. Your moans and his mixing together in the late evening air, his pace building dramatically, becoming more and more intense the longer he fucks you. It’s brutish, rough and bare. Yet loving and gentle.

“Yes right there don’t stop!” His swollen tip glides over the spot inside you, your body goes still and you can’t do anything except let it happen. And you do, you let the tsunami of pleasure crash into you almost painfully, it pumps through your veins absolutely demolishing what’s left of your energy. You’re barely awake when warmth blooms inside you a deep moan rumbling against your cheek.

“Fuck baby.” He groans softly pulling the sheets over your body, shielding you from the cold breeze that was drifting into your beautiful moment. A kiss to the top of your head and you’re out like a light unaware of the large hand rubbing at your tummy, the sky completely dark now, unaware of the thoughts bubbling in John’s head as he watches your chest rise up and down. The next morning he consoles you as you freak out, you had just cheated and if that wasn’t killing you, the pain in your head was. He listened to you rant and panic while he cooked you breakfast, a small smirk pulling at his lips when you slump down at the table and eat everything on your plate. You leave after he sweetly promises not to tell anybody about what happened. But he insisted on having your phone number yanno in case of emergencies. You don’t think much of it until he starts calling you, a lot.

“I just thought what harm could come from one little call,” he says coyly, ignoring you when you protest he must stop, “I know you say you're taken but I say girl you're takin' too long to tell him that it's over. Then bring it on over, stringing him along any longer flower is just wasting precious time.” You don’t know what to say to him, your words caught it your throat as he takes the silence as an opportunity to continue.

“Sweetheart you know it can't wait, rip it off just like a Band-Aid. The way you look at me, girl, you can't pretend I know you ain't in love with him break up with him.” He pleads, you don’t break up with your fiancé but you do end up back at John’s house, Price’s head between your thighs licking and slurping at your pussy.

He calls you again the next night with the same speech as last time, “I know, you don't wanna break his heart but that ain't no good reason to be keeping us apart. Look, just tell him it's you, it ain't him and maybe you can lie to him and say you'll still be friends.” He scoffs with a smirk at the idea placing his phone down on the kitchen counter on speaker.

“Whatever you got to say to get through to him that you ain't in love. C'mon you can't deny that you and I kinda fit like a glove. It ain't my business to be all up in but I know you ain't in love with him break up with him. I know that you’re so done with him break up with him.” He groans out and once again he convinces you to come over and let him have his dirty way with you.

Weeks of this back on forth go by and finally it’s the eve of your wedding day, “You would've hung up by now if you weren't thinking it too. No pressure whatever just do what you gotta do. But if I was you I'd tell him that it's over then bring it on over stringing him along any longer is just wasting precious time. Flower you know it can't wait. Just rip it off just like a Band-Aid Yeah, I know I said it but I'll say it again. I know you ain't in love with him. Break up with him. The way you look at me girl you can't pretend. I know you ain't in love with him. Just break up with him.”

You don’t break up with him but you’re sure he’s gotten the hint when you run from the church, fists clenched tightly around the material of your wedding dress so your legs can move faster. You arrive at John’s house and he grins when he opens the door.

Grabbing his coat off the hook he closes the door behind him before grabbing your hand and helping you into his jeep. “John, where are we going?”

“You’re already in your wedding dress flower, why waste the opportunity. There’s a little chapel just down the road.”

[novemberheart]

{overview} as you become closer with your pack, nature takes control

{warnings} cursing, mentions of sex, cursing, mentions of violence, fem reader, a/b/o dynamics, lots of jumping around

Chapter 11 <- Chapter 12 -> Chapter 13

Kyle had you sitting between his legs, your legs over one of his thighs. The two of you sat on the bathroom floor as he gently cleaned your leg and applied medicine. You were in your undergarments, not wanting your shirt to continue sticking to the scrapes on your side.

Kyle was being incredibly respectful. Well, he was too upset to even think about anything other than cleaning you up. The image of you covered in blood continually resurfacing in his brain.

You winced at the sting of medicine.

“I'm sorry, love.” he shushed you quickly.

“It’s okay,” you whispered back.

“You called John ‘alpha’,” Kyle spoke, trying to change the bleak subject. He knows you've called him alpha before- because he had to pay the consequences. You nodded your head, resting your head against his broad chest. You noticed Kyle doesn't wear scent blockers as much as the others. Maybe it was because his scent was already fairly neutral. You were grateful for it now. The smell of fresh linen soothing the throb in your skull.

“Are you okay with that?” you hummed, your eyes growing heavy. Kyle began cleaning up your arm. John wasn't technically your alpha yet. But he was Kyles. You could imagine how you would feel if someone you had just met two weeks ago was calling your alpha theirs.

“Course, love,” he responded quickly. “I quite enjoy it actually.” he hummed. Your eyes fluttered open, staring at the wall ahead.

“How so?” you pondered.

“Means you feel comfortable,” he explained. “Makes Cap’ pleased too.” That caused you to smile lightly.

His heartbeat was beginning to fall back to normal. The rhythmic thumping becoming less and less routine.

“Kyle?” you hummed softly.

“Yes?” he hummed back. His lips rested against the top of your head.

“Can I sleep with you tonight? In your bed I mean- or mine.” you felt him smile. You didn't want to be alone. You had the fleeting thought of asking John, but that was too intimidating. Plus Kyle was like a sedative on your nerves.

“Course, babygirl.” he agreed lowly. A shiver ran up your spine. He sighed, beginning to gather all the discarded cotton wads and bandage packages. “You’re all good, lovie. How about we break into alphas bedroom and steal some more clothes?” he wiggled a brow down at you.

His hand wrapped around your wrist holding your hand still, so he could kiss your fingertips. You rolled your eyes, beginning to squirm in his grasp.

You wrapped your arms around his neck pulling him flush against you. Kyle's head immediately found your neck, taking a deep inhale. The bitterness was gone leaving a mouth-watering aroma behind.

You two had curled up in his bed after dinner.

John and Simon had returned an hour before dinner. Kyle and Johnny quickly distracted you as they both made their way to their rooms. You heard the shower turn on immediately after. They hadn't said a word to you about it afterwards and you didn't pry. The looks on their faces were enough to let you know they had handled it. For dinner they let you pick whatever you wanted and you chose Chinese. All of you sat at the counter eating together like a true pack.

You didn't miss the way they looked at you. Their eyes lingered longer. You didn't quite have the energy to decipher each emotion. You felt as though you had proved yourself, though. Yes, you were a bit idiotic going off by yourself, but you held your own and were able to defend yourself. They had watched the footage, they knew.

It seemed to have hit John the hardest. Maybe it was alpha pride. The omega under his care got hurt and he couldn't prevent it. Or maybe he saw it as an attack against him. You hoped it was the easy answer; he didn't want to see you hurt.

“Can I ask you something?” you whispered, your cheek pressed against his. He pulled back a bit, his darkened eyes staring into yours. “How did the relationship start between all of you?”

It had never been disclosed to you but you had your assumptions even before joining the pack. Only packs who could satisfy each other's needs refused to change.

“Me and ‘Tavish started it.” Kyle yawned, reburying his face in your neck. “Got in a fight actually- ended up working it out in a bit of an unorthodox way,” he explained, making you chuckle.

“What about John and Simon?”

“They’ve definitely been a thing for a long time- just have never been able to prove it.” he rolled over on his back, maneuvering you so you were lying against his chest. His fingers tracing small shapes against your thigh.

“When did all four of you decide to be together?”

“The night me and ‘Tavish got into it.” he rested his head against yours, his breath fanning your ear. You could feel his cheek twitch up into a smirk. “They watched.”

He chuckled at the sudden increase in your body temperature, your scent warming along with it. A wanting rumble vibrated in his chest but he made no move to act on it.

“Does it make your job harder?” you questioned suddenly. You knew what came with their job. The sacrifices they agreed to. What if something happened and they had to choose between each other or their objective? You curled further around Kyle.

“Lot more at stake,” he said quietly. “But, no. It doesn't.” you would have to be satisfied with the answer for now.

“She called this home,” Johnny mumbled. Simon pulled his teeth away from the Scot's shoulder blades, flopping down on his back with a huff. He had been trying to warm Johnny up for the past fifteen minutes but the conversation always wandered back to you- and not in the way it usually does when they’re in bed.

“What else is she supposed to call it?” Simon questioned. He grabbed Johnnys' bicep and pulled him so his back was resting against his chest. Johnny growled, starting to pull himself away.

“Easy, mutt,” Simon growled, pulling him back. “Bloody heated over a situation that has been handled.”

“You weren't there.” Johnny finally snarled back. “By the time you got here, she wasn't dripping blood or crying or fucking terrified.”

It wasn't that Simon didn't care about you. He had spent the most time with you than anyone. In that time, he would be lying if he said you hadn't knocked down a few feet of the wall he had built up around himself. Johnny had a point. He probably would be much more bitter if he had been on the scene. He had watched it through the cameras, but it wasn't the same as being there when it was actually happening.

“You’re right.” Simon sighed, pressing a kiss against the mark on Johnny's shoulder. “We handled it though.”

“How’d you handle it?”

“The scratched-up one was easy to find. She got him good, really fucked up his eye. Slag had the bright idea to get treated at medical. Cap’ was so riled he nearly killed the bastard. Settled on broken legs though. The other one had a bit more brains- was hiding out. Was a fun game of cat and mouse, til it wasn't.” Despite the violence, Johnny’s body relaxed. That is what he needed to hear. That the bastards hadn't gotten away with anything. That they hadn't bloodied you up without consequences. “You did good, Johnny. Takin’ care of your omega." The praise warmed Johnny to the core.

His time was 1:16 causing a few mouths to drop open.

“Hells bells, how'd you pull that off?” Johnny gawked, pressing the speaker button. Kyle shrugged behind the glass, opening the door to the ‘control room.’

“Don't know, mate. Just did.” he wasn't lying. Kyle had always been the fastest of the group but that was practically unheard of considering the duration of the test.

“Fucking beautiful,” Simon muttered, still reeling. You looked up from your mahjong puzzle not really getting what was so special. You had been unanimously voted into protective custody, meaning you got to follow the boys around all day. (just as long as you didn’t pay too close attention to what they were training for)

“I might know.” John said suddenly. His lips straightened in a line like he was trying to hold back a smile. Suddenly his eyes fell on you. You pushed your headphones back. “You two slept together last night, yeah?”

You flushed even though you knew that wasn't what he meant.

“I don't think I had any”-

“Makes sense,” Simon interjected. “Kyle beat his own record by nearly 30 seconds. That doesn't just happen.” he reasoned.

“Think you're right.” Kyle agreed. When he woke up that morning he had felt it. There was a warmth under his skin that made it easier to move- easier to think. He thought it was just because he had slept well. He should've known it was because of you.

“Well, I'll take credit I guess.” you sighed, tugging your headphones back on. Your eyes were brought away from your phone as Johnny took a knee before you.

“Hen, will you do me the greatest honor and sleep with me tonight?” his puppy dog eyes would be hard to refuse. You rolled your eyes but agreed. He obviously wasn't expecting it from the way his face lit up.

“Shite, I gotta wash my sheets.”

“Johnny!”

It was no wonder he had to wear scent blockers all the time. His scent was addictive. Cinnamon and pine with a slight end note of orange. You had spent the last five minutes rolling around in his (clean) sheets.

“Enjoying yourself?” he snickered, hanging up his towel on his closet door. You looked over your shoulder, your half-lidded eyes meeting his. He groaned, quickly climbing into bed with you. “Better not get me in trouble, peaches.” he rasped. You wrapped around him before he was even flat against the mattress. He chuckled, his large hands grabbing your hips, moving you so you were curled up on top of him. His stubble scratched against your forehead as you buried your face in his neck. He purred, the sound catching you off guard. “Could get used to this.” he hummed, his own eyes growing heavy at the heated peachy scent in the air.

His hands wandered. Yet they couldn't be called inappropriate- and you certainly weren't opposed to it. His dull nails scratched against your back through the fabric of your shirt, before gliding down to your hips, his hands nearly gripping your bottom. They dove lower, grabbing the back of your thighs and giving them a squeeze before making his way back up, starting to play with your hair.

“Thank you for taking care of me yesterday,” you mumbled suddenly. You had practically melted into one at that point, but you still realized you hadn't thanked him.

“You can rely on me. You know that, aye?” he murmured back. He had proven that without a doubt. All of them had.

Meanwhile, in his room, John’s body was on fire. He hadn't felt this way since- god he couldn't even remember.

“Think it's a cold?” Kyle questioned, removing his already sweated-through shirt.

“No.” John panted. The burning in his stomach only intensified, his mind was stuck on one thing and one thing only.

You.

“It's a fucking rut.”

Hello everyone! Hope you enjoyed this chapter! See you in three days for chapter 13! 🧡

Dividers by @cafekitsune

[the-goddess-of-mischief-writing]

Concentrate

summary: You've been engrossed in work lately and Price decides to take it into his own hands to make you relax.

pairing: cpt. John Price x reader (sunshine universe)

tags/tw: afab!reader, mention of canon related injury, NSFW, mdni 18+ please and thank you, p in v, teasing, unprotected sex, creampie, d/s themes, captain!kink, implied age-gap

a/n: god, it's been too long since I've updated this series, but considrings it's summer now, I actually have may aims set on finishing it<3

Sunshine universe MASTERLIST & John Price MASTERLIST

Despite the blue-light glasses dimming your already yellowed screen, your laptop's light strains your eyes.

They sting as you blink, tears occasionally wetting your lash line. You don't want to continue working, the whole day has had you glued to the screen. But, you'd signed a contract with a bigger firm, and the first checkpoint in that partnership was scheduled to be presented in two weeks.

Despite so much time left, it felt like you were already behind.

You sighed, your forehead finding solace between your arms as you rested it against the bed. You felt the mattress shift beneath you, not too surprised you caught the attention of the bed's other occupant, who had been engrossed in his book for the better part of an hour.

"Not time to let it rest for tonight?" You sighed again, catching the sound of an open book being placed down.

"I know I should, but there's still so much left undone." You turn to face John, your head finding a temporary respite on your shoulder, relieving some of the tension in your neck. 

Compared to you, he lies on his back, one hand resting along the book's spine, his index and middle finger hooked between the pages. His brows are drawn together, and the creases between them are more visible than otherwise. 

"Mhm, know it is, but you've done quite some work for the last half an hour." Right, this isn't the first time he's asked if it's time to put aside work for tonight. The knowing look John sends you makes you break away from his gaze. 

You know he is right. But, as soon as you stare at the unwelcomingly bright screen again, the unpleasant tingle in your nerves of work left half-done and the heaps of it left to finish forces your fingers to flex before settling on the keyboard again.

"And yet I've come nowhere", you mutter. The clicking of keys ceases when John's hand enters your vision, and a heavy paw is placed upon one of yours to halt your typing. Your eyes flick to him, noticing how he's

discarded the book and rolled onto his side, watching you with raised brows and sincere eyes. 

"Wrap it up, love. You've done enough for tonight." His voice is steady, and his gaze is heavy. 

Letting out a breath of combined compliance and relief, you nod. "Alright, let me just wrap these few sentences up so I'll know where I should pick up tomorrow".

"Good choice." John catches your chuckle with a kiss as he leans close to peck your lips before standing from the bed. "I'll be in the shower when you're done," he says, withdrawing to the en suite.

You follow him as he departs, leaving the invite dangling in the empty space he leaves you alone in. The water from the shower reaches you as a soft pour through the door, making it even harder to turn back to face the screen. It's light stabbing your sore eyes just a bit more viciously.

And you do plan to join him sooner rather than later. Yet the concluding sentence seems impossible to wrap up, going on forever as you attempt to put down all the thoughts on the screen for your well-rested self to probably frown at tomorrow morning.

The sound of the shower fades to a white noise as you simply can't take the step and cut yourself off, close the screen, and join John in a warm shower your sore body and exhausted mind needs.

***

Price waits for you. He didn't anticipate you to come running after him before the door shut, but he did expect you to join him soon after he stepped beneath the shower-head. But he sighs heavily when he's stood beneath the stream of water for long enough that he's finished washing and even stretched the time if you would join him in a minute. 

Turning off the shower, Price steps out to dry off. He'd looked forward to spending some time with you, no less seeing you relax for the first time since after breakfast. That project you're working on has taken much of your time the last few days, rendering you basically motionless in front of your laptop if it wasn't to eat or take a minuscule pause.

Despite knowing it was he who was on med-leave and not you, Price still felt that the days on which he had no paperwork to fill his time while you worked dragged on particularly slowly. And with his shoulder barely impairing him from any movement, sitting about the whole day made his leg bounce from restlessness.

Neither did he want to disturb you too much, noticing how you noted his presence each time he passed within your view with a flick of your eyes before they fell to your laptop again. 

While never saying anything, Price, in return, noticed how you often slowed your pace momentarily after he'd passed you, often with a swift kiss. Likewise, if he stayed in your vicinity, your attention strayed towards him more than once.

He tried to keep clear so as not to impair your workflow. But your workplace is much more fluid than his, and you often placed yourself in areas he passed through when moving through... practically anywhere in the house.

With the tally he kept, you favoured the couch in the living room downstairs and the bed later in the evenings.

Dropping the towel from his head, Price looked at his reflection before it fell to the side. Some little part in his chest hoped to see you suddenly appear behind him, but the door remained as shut as a few minutes prior. 

Price wasn't surprised to find you right where he left you once he exited the bathroom with the towel tied around his hips.

He called your name, but you barely moved. You remained on your stomach, propped on your elbows, occasionally scrolling on the computer before you. He catches you mumbling a 'mhm, soon done' much later than his call for you and only shakes his head, the response more autogenerated than anything else.

Even from this angle, Price notices how the light from the screen illuminates your tired features. When he moves around the bed and towards your side, he catches your furrowed brows.

You're so engrossed in your work and whatever is going on inside that head of yours you don't notice when he steps up beside you. Instead, your head falls to your hands, your thumbs pressing into the roots of your eyebrows.

A low groan escapes you, stirring something in the pit of his stomach. 

You'd been out like a light the last two nights, barely able to put away your computer and mosey your way for your skin-care routine before falling asleep. He'd caught you standing with your eyes closed as you massaged your products into your skin, only to offer him that sweet, tired smile once they fluttered open.

To say he hadn't been aching to touch you more than fleetingly the past three days was an understatement. But the day you announced you'd gotten the deal for this collaboration, you also said in your ecstatic state how you needed to work. So he'd let you, settling for the warmth of your body against his right before sleep took you both, and the day started in the mornings.

Price knew your jobs were different, awfully so. However, he recognised you were in that initial bubble of concentration that was hard to break out of, and you could bring in the rest of the world again.

While Price didn't blame you for working while you stayed here. After all, he'd thumbed on his non-working practice while on medical leave. He found that you had difficulty relaxing; your shoulders pulled tighter each day, your remote work smudging the line between work and home. Even now, you hadn't stopped massaging the pressure points in your face, the blue-light glasses discarded to make it easier.

He wanted to see you wind down, not only for tonight but also to allow yourself to not overwork so early on in this project. Take it from him about knowing that planning and prepping could only take you so far. Yet Price knew you wouldn't take that step yourself. He'd waited to see if you would since yesterday when the exhaustion of your mental workload slowly started to make itself noticeable.

Maybe that's why he found himself suddenly resting a knee on the bed beside your hip, the mattress dipping beneath his weight as he pushed himself over your laying form until he kneeled on either side of you. Or so he told himself, dismissing how he slowly felt himself grow hard standing there, watching your form resting prone on the bed, craving to hold your body.

***

The mattress shifts and a sudden weight settles atop your thighs. You start from whatever brain fog has momentarily overtaken you. 

You smell John's shower gel, the slight dampness of what must be a towel separating your naked legs from his as he sits behind you.

Fuck, right, you were supposed to join him.

You attempt to glance over your shoulder to apologise but only catch a glimpse of John, towel around his waist and hair still wet from his shower, before a hand lands on your neck and directs your face forward. The firm grip makes you feel a bit like a kitten being grabbed by the scruff, yet John's voice makes another feeling come to life.

"Just concentrate on your work, love." His voice is smooth and gravelly deep, but he doesn't let up on your neck, forcing you to continue facing your screen with the blinking marker not far from your face. 

"What-"

"And let me take care of you", he continues, disregarding you completely. 

You're about to ask him again what he's doing, but upon the fingers resting on either side of your neck pressing, your words escape as a rushed exhale. His thumb and index finger repeatedly knead the base of your skull, making your eyes fall shut. 

Yeah, you could need a massage. That's also how you interpret John's action, as his hand slides with equal pressure further along your spine. The pressure is firm, but oh, it is needed on the sore muscles along your back that you let out a shaky breath when some of the tension is relieved. 

However, your shaky breaths turn into a sharp inhale once one of his hands that has been kneading the worst of the tension points in your back slips down your spine, not stopping at your last vertebrate but continuing over the globe of your ass.

One calloused hand turns to two, both grabbing at you from behind, groping your cheeks in each palm, squeezing until flesh spills between fingers and an appreciative noise sounds from the man doing so. And then, he pulls you apart just a little, the oversized shirt of his that you're wearing riding up until you practically can feel his eyes on your scantily covered core.

"John-" His name is cut off by a sharp inhale as one of his hands slides between your legs, and he runs his thumb the length of your thong-covered pussy from behind. In the aftermath of your involuntary jerk, his other hand settles heavily on your hip, pressing you down into the bed with the help of his weight pinning you.

"Hush, don't mind me." His voice is remarkably even despite gently rubbing up and down your cunt like he is currently doing.

"Hard not to mind you." You let out a soft moan, clenching around nothing but the phantom feel of his thumb against your entrance as he presses just a tad bit more.

"You wanted to work, love, don't let me stop you". It's sweet, even considerate, the way he says it. Contrasting so deviously the way he's petting you with repeated motions of his thumb.

Your mouth opens and closes, your eyes fluttering in an attempt to stay open and watch the keyboard and screen you're meant to type on. However, the computer you only minutes before couldn't tear your attention from remains untouched. 

Your fingers hover, and your chest heaves as your total concentration falls on John. 

Hyper-vigilance overtakes your body as you follow every tiny thing the man pinning you against the bed does. John keeps the pace of his fingers the same, the prodding remaining frustratingly consistent. You try to wriggle your hips, but the hand on your waist only tightens its hold as he clicks his tongue. A simple but effective warning.

You fall still, letting him touch you at the pace he wants despite your breaths now turning to soft whimpers. 

A flush rushes through your body when John shuffles. You feel him rise onto his knees for a second, and then the fingers playing with your pussy leave your body, only for the sensation of fabric to sweep over your legs and be thrown to the side.

Once he retakes his position, it's his naked thighs that connect with yours. But the stuttering breath escapes when you catch a low groan spilling into the air.

Your head whips around, catching John admiring you with lidded eyes, hand fisted and stroking his rapidly swelling cock to full hardness.

Mouth salivating, your lip catches between your teeth upon the scene. You can't help the way your thighs clench together when your pussy flutters. John notices, eyes trailing upwards until his gaze locks with yours. He tsks the moment they do, stopping his fisting of himself as if to depreve you of the hot scene.

"Thought you wanted to work, eh?" He leans forward, shifting his hand to rest by your shoulder instead of your hip. It lets you arch against his hardened cock when it falls against your backside. John grunts, jaws tightening as his free hand curls around your head, gripping your jaw to force you to look at him by craning your head backwards. "Now, don't let me fuckin' this pretty pussy of yours distract you." He directs your head forward slowly as the words drip from his tongue. 

But, rather than your hands resuming the typing you'd given up on since he started touching you, they fall to the sides of your godforsaken computer, fisting the covers. "I-I won't be able-"

"M'no, no backtalk, or else I'll go an wank off rather than help you relax, love." Your mouth snaps shut, breathing turning shallow as your heart thrums in the hollow of your throat. "Understood?"

"Yes". There are a few beats of silence as John lets go of your jaw. You wait for his next move, but so does he, apparently, as suddenly his palm connects with your ass, the spank reverberating in the air together with your gasp.

You know what he wants, then. "Yes, Captain." His title sends a shudder down your spine, the implications of its use telling what's to come.

"Good girl", is the low-muttered response you get against the shell of your ear as John settles into his previous position again.

His hand glide over the globe of your ass, soon joined by his other one. You can only imagine the sight he's greeted with when he rucks down your panties and spreads your cheeks enough to bare you for him.

You feel how wet you are. The crotch of your panties tying your legs together is damp against your inner thighs. The uncomfortable feeling of being soaked between your legs makes you squirm beneath John's gaze.

"Squirmin' already, and I've barely touched you", he hums, letting his thumb fall to your entrance again. When he curls the digit, it disappears inside you, forcing a stutter moan out of you.

He toyed with you, teasingly stretching you over his thumb as he wiggled it at the entrance. Sometimes, John let it slide deeper, which had your thighs clenching beneath his thicker ones straddled over you. 

You whimpered, head falling to the bed when he used the slick you'd coated him in to rub your clit. The stutter of your hips was impossible to stop, but rather than a swat to your ass and a disappointed sound, the one you could've presumed would leave John. His tut was filled with remorse, the way he kneaded your ass almost caringly.

"So strung tight, ain't you, love?" You whined in response when his thumb left your clit, sliding up and down the seam of your pussy. "Poor thing", he hummed, low and gravelly in his chest. If not for your body already vibrating, you bet you could've felt the same bone-deep rumble of his voice through your back.

"Yeah-oh!" A moan cut off your sentence, John's thumb swapped to the head of his cock in the middle of it. It was a slow push inside, having your mouth falling open, another moan forced into the bed.

The familiar burn of his thick cock stretching you wider made your eyes screw shut and your breathing heavy. With little to no prep, apart from your slick and John's teasing, the delicious stretch around him was slower than usual.

"Oh my-", you whimpered, feeling John move and his weight settles against your back.

A hand beneath your throat is what forces your head up. With a slight bend backwards, you met with blue eyes gazing down at you. The picture of John was upside down, but the evident lust in his features as his hips met your ass shone no less clearly.

"How's that work goin' for you?" His voice was thick, dripping from his mouth into yours from how your lips brushed.

You opened your mouth, intent on replying. Though, John had another idea. Before your words could more than begin as a deep inhale, he started to fuck into you, torturously slow but deep, rocking your body from how tightly he pressed himself against your rear.

Intended words escaped as nothing more than a moan he swallowed with a messy kiss, your sound of pleasure urging a deep groan from John in response.

Your eyes fluttered when John shifted just right and hit that bundle of nerves inside you that made silvery stars dance across your vision. He must have felt your walls contract as he picked up his pace. And basically rutted into the bed, your eyes fluttered and your neck going loose, forcing John to let you down so you would not bend it at an awkward angle. 

With your cheek pressed against the bed, you followed the large man sitting straight again through your peripheral. He appeared larger when he grabbed your hips, pushing those big pecs of his together, puffing his chest up. 

His bicep flexed, and his head tipped back a notch when he pushed your legs together more firmly with his thighs, feeling you tighten around him. The fit was snug, urging him to push firmer into you, lifting your hips the slightest bit to meet each thrust. 

You could drool at the sight of him huffing and groaning as the muscles in his stomach and arms flexed. Some wetness probably escaping along the constant strings of moans and whimpers flooding your mouth. The burly bulk of him working you closer to orgasm with each tug of your body and snap of his hips. Fuck did he look good.

"C-captain", you moaned wantonly, earning his attention as he haunched forward, sneaking a hand beneath your front to strum at your clit.

"Fuck me, love." John couldn't help but stutter through his words when your goaded groan stoked his primal pride at having you look so utterly dishevelled. "Lookin' so fuckin' cockdrunk."

You nodded absentmindedly, earning another grunt from the man shoving his cock possibly deeper as his finger toyed quicker over your sensitive bud. It was impossible to keep your eyes open, your mouth hanging open without a sound but heady exhales escaping. Your fingers were cramping, clutching and unclutching the rucked-up duvet around your face.

"Can feel you flutterin' around me. You needed this, didn't you? Already close." Fingers dug into your hipbones, and your body jolted when John switched the pace to agonisingly drag his cock out before slamming home. "Yeah, yeah? Are you goin' to cum for your Captain? Cream my cock while you work?"

Work was nothing but a memory now as you could only muster a moan in response.

You twitched beneath him, coming nowhere despite arching your back as you came, and John continued sliding over your clit with his finger. It was violent, ripping through all those frayed and tense nerves that had pulled tight through over the last few days.

You cried into the bed, shuddering when John kept pumping into you, prolonging the blessedly painful high he forced you into by the end. His rumbling grunts and mumbled praise spread goosebumps over your skin as you lay there, taking whatever he needed to spill inside you through the overstimulation.

Then John stilled, shoving himself deep as his thighs quivered and he pulsed inside you, the warmth and stickiness spilt inside you, making you weakly moan in satisfaction.

It was blessedly silent as you felt him push incredibly lazy into you once, twice, before he pulled out and settled on his haunches, pulling your cheeks apart to probably look at the white dribble of cum that oozed out of you. He hummed contentedly, smoothing his palm over your bottom before he wedged a hand beneath your hips, helping you lift them as he pulled your panties up your legs again.

You whined at the uncomfortable coldness but stopped once John's thumb ran soothing circles into your spine.

Your eyes had fallen shut, the fatigue from earlier creeping violently close. The only thing making your lashes flutter was once John leans over your body, closing the laptop that switched to standby long ago. 

His hand is kept on the device as he leans down, his head notching on your shoulder and his lips resting against the shell of your ear as he falls to his elbow.

"You're done". This time around, it wasn't a suggestion. 

You can't argue this time, only hum and tip your head in an attempted nod. Your head is silent for the first time in three days, and the pleasant buzz makes your body completely lax. John takes it as an agreement as he leans down and kisses your shoulder blade. 

One press off his lips turns into two, and then a question breaks the pattern, "You feelin' alright?"

"Mhm" is all you can muster in return. You receive a last kiss against your clothes-covered skin before John stands from the bed while you remain put. 

You feel the laptop disappear, presuming John puts it away to charge for the night.

"Come on now, love, up you get". Your head twists to watch John as he stands beside the bed in his naked glory. A tension was lost in his shoulders now.

"M'too tired", you mumble.

"Now it suits you", he laughs softly, a quirk tugging in the corner of his lip as he bends down. 

You move easily when he pushes you over to your back, enjoying the view John offers above you. When he inserts his hand behind your knees and your back to scoop you into his arms, you sober up quickly as you release a squeal, eyes widening as your arms shoot to wrap around his neck. 

His chuckle vibrates against your ribcage as he readjusts his grip on you before he sets off to the en suite. 

"Waited for you to take that shower with me, but looks like I had to take it into my own hands".

"So you're kidnapping me to take another?"

"Yes", he says, shifting his eyes to yours before stopping to push the door open with his foot.

"What a gentleman", you giggle, craning your neck to kiss his beard-covered jaw quickly.

"Didn't leave me with any gentlemanly options", John fixes you with a look as he lets you down.

"Guess the both of us can get stuck in work sometimes," you shrug, blinking up at him with innocent eyes and giving him an apologetic smile.

His arms circle your waist, accepting your regretful gesture by pulling you close to him. All the while, John huffs to playfully deflect your accusation towards him. 

"Don't know what you're talkin' about".

"Don't know what I'm talking about, huh?" You question with a cocked brow, a smile pulling at the edge of your mouth. "Says the man who would rate his study a close second behind being in bed with me".

"Surfaces to fuck you in both places." He shrugs. Your mouth drops open, your spluttering making him let out a short laugh, a boyish smile now tugging at his lips. "And... it's not my fault you consider one of your offices the most fuckable surfaces in the house, nor your work attire this", he defends himself half-heartedly while slipping a hand beneath his oversized tee covering your body.

You lightheartedly swat his chest, chuckling as you detangle yourself from his arms. 

You feel John's eyes rove over your body while you pull the shirt over your head, catching his gaze once you drop it to the floor. You lift a brow once his eyes rise to yours, only briefly, however, as they soon drop again when you step out of your sticky panties.

You feel the wetness left behind between your legs; no doubt that John also sees it from how his chest expands when you step backwards through the open shower doors and onto the still, slightly wet ground from his previous shower.

When he follows you, he instantly pulls your naked body against his as if he hadn't just held you.

Just before the water hits your front, John huddles close, bending slightly forward so the water cascades over the back of his head instead. 

He runs a hand through his hair to push his drenched locks backwards. Droplets fly and hit you in the face, and you raise a hand to swipe most of them from your lashes.

You stand in comfortable silence as you stare at each other. John's hands wander up and down your sides, your hands no better as they slide over his wet torso. He can't take his eyes off of you, gaze slowly dipping, mapping your body as if he hasn't seen it naked countless times.

"You're touchy tonight", you hum, following his gaze as it settles on your breasts, hands soon moving to the same place.

"Have barely felt you for days." He fondles you in his hands, much gentler in all his touches now compared to earlier, simply feeling you up. 

"Could've just asked if you wanted to have some time for us without my laptop present", you jokingly offer.

John only raises a brow as his eyes lock with yours, his hands stilling and ultimately sliding down your ribs to rest on your hips.

"With how you've buried that nose in the screen, I didn't know if you fancied if I would come and cop a feel". You tip your head side to side. "You're probably right." John only cocks his brows, a silent dig at the probably you threw in there. "But I didn't mind it now".

He shakes his head, reaching down to plan a swift kiss on your lips. "'Course you didn't when bein' so wound up. Know a good fuck makes you relax".

"Oh, shut up," you say, pushing his face away with your hand and bashfully dipping your head. He laughs lowly through the shower stream you'd moved him into. 

He shook his head as he exited the water, his arms wrapping around your waist to pull you flush against his chest.

[redisthenewblue]

TINKER- Twisted Wonderland x Tinkerbell!Yuu/Fem!Reader Part 1 Part 2

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･Being a fairy like [Name] was definitely not for the faint-hearted. Fortunately, [Name] managed to hold her own. She was always seen as the smallest and weakest in the family, the one who seemed to drag everyone down. Her creative ideas were often brushed off in a family that preferred to stick to tradition. That’s why when Peter, a boy their age, actually showed interest in what she had to say, [Name] couldn’t help but latch onto him. Wherever Peter went, [Name] was usually right there, trailing behind. That is, until Wendy and her little brothers decided to tag along. At first, [Name] didn’t mind too much, but Wendy just had to make it worse by throwing some not-so-subtle flirts Peter's way.

So there they were, sitting by a tree, doing their usual thing. [Name] was tinkering with an old watch, John and Michael were play-fighting with wooden swords, and Peter had just given Wendy a beautiful sapphire pendant he found. “He’s given me a prettier pendant anyway,” [Name] thought, biting her lip as they focused harder on the watch. 

“Oh Peter, I’m so happy I think I could give you a kiss!” Wendy exclaimed. 

That was it. [Name] shot up from her spot, their wings jingling as they fluttered in a mix of anger and disbelief. A pale glow around them turned fiery red. Peter wouldn’t really go for that, would he?

“What’s a kiss?” he asked, genuinely curious.

“Well... I’ll show you!” Wendy said, leaning in.

Before she could land a peck on Peter’s lips, [Name] swooped in, grabbing Wendy by the hair and yanking her backward. Peter swatted at [Name] like she were just a pesky fly, which would’ve stung if it wasn’t for the fact that they were fighting for their life up in the air.

“What’s the matter with you, [Name]?!” Peter shouted.

With arms crossed defiantly, [Name] replied, “What’s the matter with me?! I’ll tell you what the matter is! It’s her!” She turned their back on Peter, fuming.

“Then leave! I hereby banish you… forever!” Peter announced dramatically.

Whipping their head around, [Name] gritted her teeth, feeling her size shrink as they flew away. 

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That was the last time [Name] saw Peter. Time passed, and she grew older, still has a bit of a loose temper but definitely more mature. If she got accepted into NRC, they would be picked up tonight. Despite her parents' disapproval due to the family’s belief of everyone filling their designated role in the village , [Name] couldn’t bear the thought of being stuck in the village all her life —not after all the work she put in. She stuffed every piece of clothing she might need into their bag, feeling her eyelids growing heavier with each passing moment. Yawning, she trudged over to her flower bed, snuggling into the soft petals and slowly drifting off to sleep.

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[Name] jolted awake, her wings twitching in what felt like confinement. Wait... why were their wings trapped? She felt around and tumbled out of a coffin onto the cold floor. 

“Nyah?!”

Suddenly, a flash of blue fire and a mop of black hair caught her attention. “I better hurry up and find that uniform before someone spots me... Urgh, this lid weighs a ton! Try this on for size! Mya-ha!”

Fire?! What in the Sevens was going on? [Name] turned to see a boy with black hair. Strangely, she sensed no magic from him, which was pretty unusual for a magic school.

“Now to grab the goods... What?! You two aren't supposed to be awake!”

“A talking weasel?! Two?” The boy blinked, noticing the glittering fairy wings and petite stature of the girl behind him. As he reached out to touch the wings, [Name] slapped his hand away with an angry jingle. “Don’t touch,” she reprimanded.

How surreal was this dream? The boy thought, rubbing his hand to ease the sting.

“How... HOW DARE YOU! I’m no WEASEL! I’m Grim, sorcerer extraordinaire!”

“You don’t look so extraordinary,” [Name] shot back, a smirk forming.

“Tch. Whatever. You... Fly! Just give me your uniform, and be quick about it! More specifically, you insect!” Grim pointed at [Name] with his paw. “I bet I can fit your clothes! If you don’t... you’re gonna regret it!”

Insect? Please, [Name] was taller than this little pest by a long shot. Anger and embarrassment flushed their face.

“Getting slapped by a fairy and roasted alive by a weasel? What will I dream of next?”

“Well, keep dreamin', 'cause I ain't no weasel!”

Sure...

“Where am I?” the black-haired boy asked, looking around.

Now that was odd. Either this guy was slow or from another planet. Even in her small village of Fairy Hallow, people knew about prestigious schools like NRC.

"Foolish human! Did you really think you could slip away from ME? Unless you want to get burned to a crisp, take off that—Me-YEOW! That hurt! What gives?”

A whip seemingly from nowhere hit “the extraordinary Grim.” You’d have to be crazy to think [Name] wouldn’t seize this chance to get back at this little weasel for making fun of her height.

“Could the oh-so-powerful Grim not sense that?” [Name] snickered, the jingle of her wings adding salt to the wound.

“NYAH?! You!”

“Consider it tough love. Ah, I’ve found you two at last. Splendid! I trust you’re the new students for this year? My, were you children ever eager to make your debuts. And bringing a poorly trained familiar with you? That’s a clear violation of the school’s rules.”

“It’s not ours,” the duo said in unison.

“As if I’d serve some lowly human and an annoying fairy! Now lemme go!”

An irk mark appeared on [Name]’s forehead. The audacity of this cat was astonishing.

“Once I get my wand, I’ll—” the glow around [Name] began to turn red, but the headmaster cut them off. Maybe that was for the best; what she was about to say was definitely better left unsaid.

“Yes, yes. Rebellious familiars always say that. Do be quiet for a bit, won't you? Dear me. Of all the students I've dealt with, you two are the first with the audacity to open their own gate and step out of it. Does the very notion of patience elude you? No matter.” The older man scolded.

“Your orientation has already begun. Let us return to the Mirror Chamber.” As they walked, a question sparked within the boy.

“What do you mean by student...?”

“You awakened in a room full of gates, did you not? All the students here at the campus arrived by passing through such gates. Although typically—”

“You came through a coffin-shaped portal into Night Raven College, or NRC for short, a school for magic. The one leading us is the headmaster of the school,” [Name] interrupted, eager to explain. Leaning in closer, she whispered to the boy, “But I believe you don’t have any magic to attend, so you might be sent home.” The boy’s eyes widened slightly.

“Well said,” the headmaster praised, “But now is not the time for such prattle. You have a student orientation to attend! Go on, now. Make haste.”

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“Orientation and dorm assignments are done? All right, new students—let me be clear. At Heartslabyul House, I am the law. Break the rules, and it’s off with your head!” a boy with cherry-red hair proclaimed.

‘He’s probably going to be a dictator,’ [Name] muttered under her breath.

“Well, that ceremony was as boring as ever. I’m going back to the dorm. If you’re in Savanaclaw House, follow me,” yawned a male with lion ears.

‘It’s hardly even the afternoon yet.’

“New students! Allow me to be the first to congratulate you on your achievement. As dorm leader of Octavinelle House, I’m honored to support you in what I hope will be a fulfilling campus experience.”

“He looks shifty,” the black-haired boy remarked, appalled at [Name]’s bluntness. How could she be so casual about it?!

“Hey, does anyone know where the headmage went? He disappeared midway through the ceremony?” a striking boy asked his fellow dorm leaders.

“Some headmage he is,” a voice emitted from a tablet.

“Maybe he had a tummy ache?” one suggested.

“I most certainly did not!” He argued.

The Red-Headed Boy crossed his arms across his chest “Ah, speak of the devil.”

“If you must know, I was searching for the new students who failed to show for orientation. You two are the only ones yet to be assigned a dorm. Step up to the Dark Mirror, and be quick about it. I’ll watch your weasel.” Crowley explained to the House wardens.

[Name] was the first to step up, revealing her face to the mirror.

“State thy name,” commanded the mirror.

She took a deep breath, exhaling slowly, “ [Name] Faye.”

“ Her soul is incredibly strong and unwavering. You hold immense potential, [Name] Faye. You’re perfect for Diasomnia.”

“Wait a minute… You’re a girl?!”

The room erupted into hushed whispers.

“What’s wrong with being a girl?” [Name] asked, her brows knitting together in confusion, placing her hands on her hips.

“The problem is that NRC is a BOYS SCHOOL. It’s completely inappropriate to have a girl surrounded by all these boys... I’ll have you sent home immediately.”

The fairy flinched at the man’s words. Perhaps her small village didn’t know everything about NRC, but it was too late for her to turn back now. She had to figure out a way to convince him to let her stay. [Name] gracefully stepped aside, giving the boy access to the mirror.

“State thy name,” the mirror repeated.

“Yuuken?” he replied, sounding more like a question than an answer. I mean, he had just been tossed into a random magic school without even knowing magic existed. For all he knew, this could be some bizarre fever dream.

“…The nature of your soul IS…….. unclear to me,” the mirror declared, and for a brief moment, silence enveloped the room.

“What did you just say?” the headmaster interjected, breaking the stillness.

“I sense no magical power from this one. Soundless. Colorless. Shapeless. Utterly vacant. Therefore, no dorm would be suitable.”

Yuuken winced at the mirror’s bluntness. Ouch, talk about harsh.

“Are you suggesting that the black carriage came to pick up someone who can’t even use magic? That’s ridiculous! The student selection process has never made a mistake in a century! How could this happen?”

Grim struggled against his restraints. “Mmmph! Nnnrgggh... ME! Let ME take this student’s place!”

“Not so fast, you hyperactive weasel!”

“Unlike that human, I can actually use magic! Let me be a student here! Watch, I’ll show you! My spells are the cat’s meow!” Grim inhaled deeply and let out a massive burst of fire from his mouth.

“I’m starting to think he’s more dragon than cat,” someone quipped.

“Is this really the time for jokes?!” Yuuken shouted in panic as flames engulfed the mirror hall.

“Everyone, get down!” warned the red-haired boy.

The boy with red eyes and white hair flailed his arms like a maniac. “AHHHHH! HELP! I’m on fire over here!”

“Stop, drop, and roll!” *[Name]* laughed, nearly doubling over as she wheezed. Yuuken sweat-dropped, catching the girl in his arms as she struggled to breathe. How could she find this funny? Finally, she gathered herself and flicked her wrist toward the flaming boy, sprinkling some fairy dust on his burning robe, instantly extinguishing the flames. A proud jingle rang out as her wings fluttered. “Fairy dust fixes everything.”

“Someone catch that blasted animal before it sets the entire school on fire!” Crowley ordered.

“Can I leave now, or…?” the lion boy groaned.

“Oh? I thought you fancied yourself a hunter. Go and help yourself to that plump little morsel!” the blonde boy teased.

“Too much effort. You do it,” the beast man shot back.

“Allow me to handle this, Headmage Crowley. If none of you are capable of catching a little creature, I’ll take on the responsibility.” One dorm leader with glasses stepped up to the challenge.

“Check it out! See how strong I am?!” Grim cackled.

“How very bold of you to break the rules in my presence,” Riddle said sternly, glaring at Grim.

“Shall we make this quick, then, Riddle? I’m afraid we don’t have much time,” the boy with glasses smirked, gripping his magic pen.

“Must you take pleasure in playing with your prey, Azul?” Riddle sighed, pulling out his own magic pen.

“And here I thought we both enjoyed this sort of thing,” Azul feigned disappointment.

“Please, I’m not like you, so spare me your nonsense.”

Grim yelped, “Myah! It’s a dead end!”

“Poor thing. Did you run yourself straight into a corner?” Azul taunted, further trapping Grim.

“I suggest you give up. Otherwise…” the redhead threatened.

“NO! I’m getting into this school, and that’s FINAL!”

*[Name]* tilted her head, intrigued. She was enjoying this more than watching the Lost Boys squabble. A part of her felt sorry for the cat; he wanted to join the school just as much as she did.

“Stand aside, Azul!” Riddle commanded, pointing his magic pen at Grim, preparing to deliver the final blow.

“Off With Your Head!”

“What was that?” Yuuken asked, staring in awe at the collar around Grim’s neck.

“It’s a unique magic. A signature spell that only one mage can use. Its name is a bit gruesome, though…”

Yuuken nodded, understanding the girl’s explanation. “What’s your unique magic then?”

*[Name]* shrugged. “I don’t know yet. I only know the simple spells I’ve picked up from books. I’m more of an inventor than a mage.”

“The Queen of Heart's Rule 23: ‘One must never bring a cat to a formal affair.’ Your very presence here violates that order. You need to vacate these premises immediately,” Riddle quoted.

“Glad I’m not in his dorm,” *[Name]* muttered. She’d probably die trying to follow all those rules. She considered herself a free spirit, prone to unpredictable bursts of anger from time to time.

“Until I remove that collar, you won’t be able to use any magic. You’re nothing but a pet cat now,” Riddle taunted, a smug grin spreading across his face.

“M-meoWHAT?! I’m nobody’s pet—NOTHING!” Grim stepped back, raising his paws defensively.

“Oh, you have nothing to worry about there. I have no intention of keeping you as a pet. The collar will disappear once you leave campus.”

“Ha-HA! Good show as always, Riddle. Your signature spell nullifies any magic. It’s quite handy. I just HAVE to respect it—ah, I mean, I just have to have respect for it.”

*[Name]* shot Azul a side-eye. No point in trying to cover up what he just said; everyone heard it.

“*[Name]*! Was I not clear that you’re expected to take responsibility for your familiar? Now discipline your—What’s that? It isn’t yours?” Crowley chastised her.

“It’s not mine?! Why would you assume it’s mine?!” *[Name]*’s temper flared once more.

“Oh... Is that so?” Crowley said, sweat trickling down his face at her outburst. “Then I’ll have it expelled from campus. I’ll even spare it from being served for dinner. My, but I AM kind... Someone take this away, please.”

“Why doesn’t he just do it himself?” the fairy muttered under her breath.

“NOOOOO! Let me gooooo! You fools better remember my name! I’m going down in magic history! Just you wait!” Grim shouted, struggling against the students holding him. *[Name]* felt a twinge of sympathy for him. He must have a reason for wanting to stay here, just like she did.

“I wonder why he’s so desperate to be here?”

“Well, that was quite the unexpected spectacle. I hereby declare that orientation has concluded. Housewardens, please escort your students back to the dorms… Hm? Come to think of it, I don’t see Housewarden Draconia of House Diasomnia anywhere.”

“And that surprises you? The dude’s a total recluse.”

“Wait a sec... Did anyone even invite him?” the boy she saved from the fire asked.

“Ah. Just as I suspected. I thought I’d come down and see for myself if Malleus had shown up. But once again, he was evidently not informed that his presence was required at an official ceremony.” He shook his head in disappointment. Something told *[Name]* this wasn’t the first time something like this had happened.

“You have my sincerest apologies. I assure you, this oversight was not intended as a slight,” Azul said, his tone insincere.

“I mean, you have to admit, he’s not exactly the easiest person to strike up a conversation with,” Riddle tried to justify.

“Never mind. All who were assigned to House Diasomnia, follow me. I just hope he doesn’t sulk about this.”

*[Name]* glanced at Yuuken from the corner of her eye, then tucked her wings behind her and pulled her hood up. She trailed behind the Diasomnia group, putting a finger to her lips in a shushing gesture. Yuuken’s eyes widened in disbelief at her antics. Did she really think she wouldn’t get caught? Especially with her glowing presence and the trail of fairy dust she left behind? He quickly turned his gaze back to the headmage, who had his back to him, facing the mirror.

“Well, Yuuken, *[Name]*. This is quite an unfortunate turn of events. I’m afraid you won’t be attending Night Raven College after all. Surely you realize that I can’t very well admit a student with no magical ability and a girl to my academy. But don’t worry. The Dark Mirror will see you home safely. Now, step into the gate and visualize the place you came from.”

The headmage turned around, only to find Yuuken standing there.

“Where did *[Name]* disappear to?”

Yuuken looked down at his feet, remembering how the girl had signaled him to keep quiet about her whereabouts. She must have had her reasons. “I’m not sure... I just want to go home.”

Crowley sighed. “I’ll deal with it tomorrow. Come along now.”

He actually believed it?!

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*[Name]* kept her head down to avoid drawing attention. It was dark outside in the Diasomnia dorm, making it easier to blend in, thankfully the ceremonial robe dulled her glow a bit.

The vice housewarden helped the new students settle into the dorm. *[Name]* stopped in front of her dorm’s door, sighing in relief for making it past all the staff and students. She turned the doorknob slowly, peeking inside. It was a four-person room. She was about to—

“Shoot.” *[Name]* cursed her luck and was about to turn around when someone came barreling up from behind her.

“MOVE!”

She jumped in shock. Why was he so loud?!

She stepped aside, allowing the boy to access the door while flicking some dust on his foot, causing him to trip and tumble upside down. Was everyone here like this? An “excuse me” would’ve been nice. She simmered with annoyance at the situation. *[Name]* huffed and walked away from the door.

“Excuse me? Are you going into the dorm?”

[Name] let out a startled scream, jumping at the sound of the voice, her light green wings flaring up in defense. She looked up and nearly fell back at the sight of a boy with dark pink eyes floating above her, staring straight into her soul.

“Looks like you snuck in…” the boy teased.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about—”

The boy began inspecting her wings. “Seems like you’re the girl from earlier… You do know this is an all-boys school, right?”

“You—”

“Lilia Vanrouge,” he introduced himself.

“Lilia… I really need to stay at this school,” [Name] broke character for once, desperation creeping into her voice. “I can’t go back home; I have nowhere…” Her eyes dropped as she fumbled with her fingers. Her wings twitched, lowering as if surrendering.

Lilia’s gaze softened slightly as he listened to her. “I won’t turn you in today, but if you want to stay, you should talk to Headmage Crowley.”

[Name] perked up at Lilia’s words. “Thank you! But where will I stay tonight?”

“Can you shrink?”

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[Name] nestled comfortably in an antique music box, tucked in with a small scrap of cloth. She watched as Lilia polished his weapon. In a way, it reminded her of the weapons Peter would describe in his stories.

“I wonder how he’s doing,” *[Name]* murmured in her native tongue.

“Who?” Lilia asked, curious.

“You can understand?!” Shock washed over her features.

He pointed to his ears, which resembled hers. They were pointed too!

“What kind of fae are you?”

“Nocturnal Fae. You must be a tinker fairy.”

[Name] zipped over to Lilia, circling around him. “Where are your wings?”

“Fu Fu Fu... Not all fae and fairies have wings,” he chuckled lightly.

“Oh…” [Name] yawned, pinching herself to stay awake. A comfortable silence settled between them, allowing [Name] to plop herself on the crown of Lilia’s head, drifting off to sleep.

[konigsblog]

I feel like Price would use rape as a means of interrogation, it's extremely painful and humiliating, the threat of it alone can make some people spill their secrets.

Would be pretty bad if readers innocent tho, no enemy secrets to share, nothing to bargain with, not even knowing what price thinks they've done. Just no way to stop it, reader would just have to wait for price to be done , and who knows how long that would take

tw; rape, interrogation, false accusations, dark fiction. DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT · MDNI 18+

john price doesn't give you any hint to what answers he's looking for.

you're left trembling, your limbs tied with rope to a metal chair inside the cold, terrifying interrogation room. it doesn't matter how many times you scream and shout that you're innocent, that he has the wrong person, price doesn't listen, believing you're just lying, attempting to get yourself out of this mess.

you could take the beatings, the slaps and the punches that left your nose bloody with crimson and your bottom lip split, but the sickening and horrifying threats of rape sent shivers down your spine. you pleaded desperately with john, begging him for any hints for what answers he was looking for. although your attempts at bargaining were fruitless, he didn't listen to your piteous and feared cries and took your denial as ‘disobedience’.

your breathing became quick and laborious at the threats, threatening to rape your poor throat and your body ‘til you're limp and bloody, perhaps even lifeless if you still didn't cooperate with him. you were almost frozen in place when he began to unfasten his leather belt. you shuddered and sobbed out through horror and terror, attempting to squirm away to no avail, his calloused and grimey hands gripping your head.

his attempts at intimidating you were working, but you didn't have any valuable information to offer him. you were completely innocent, you didn't have a clue why you were here in the first place. with nothing to tell price, he forced his musky, meaty cock down your throat painfully, showing you no pity or sympathy while stuffing your mouth with his girthy size. you choked and gagged and retched, gurgling on the intrusion shoved down your strained throat, choking ln your saliva. you spat all over yourself, slobbering and dribbling around his lengthy dick, attempting to catch your breathe desperately.

he threatened you with a pistol pressed against the crown of your skull, that if you bit him or used your teeth against his large dick then he wouldn't hesitate to blow your brains out. your eyes were wide with agony and fear, glistening in the dim light.

you were forced to stay still at his mercy with the rope scratching and rubbing against your bare skin, causing burns and goosebumps to spread over the exposed surface of skin. he wouldn't hesitate to take it a step further and rape your weak, defenceless body if you still weren't willing to cooperate. it's not as if you could provide any information that they could use, you were nothing but useless. this was a mistake that they didn't realise, and you were now subjected to different forms of torture and abuse.

he'd bend you over the interrogation table, forcing you to look at the security camera in the corner of the room, shaming you for being disobedient, for misbehaving and refusing to give them any answers. knowing this was all being recorded caused your stomach to churn, the bloody mess left between your thighs stinging and agonising, the pain spreading and intensifying with each hard and merciless thrust, his brutality and cruelty causing you wail out and scream through disgust and pain.

[thedivinetexts]

uhh. sorta brat tamer!price punishing reader for flirting with ghost? overstim, daddy kink, afab terminology. he calls you his good girl a few times

- 🐰 -

you act like you don't understand why he's doing this to you.

price has you on your elbows and knees — well, knees. your arms gave out after the last orgasm, leaving you to claw at the sheets for any shred of stability. you're still recovering from it, breaths coming out as gasping little things in between the whimpers and whines. the pads of his thick fingers continue to circle your clit, unrelenting even after wringing three orgasms from you so far.

your hips try to jolt away from his touch, his rough callouses just on the wrong side of too much, but price's other hand is firm on your hip. you won't be able to escape him unless he lets you.

"j-john," you keen, voice warbling pathetically, "please, it's - it's too much -!"

your complaint melts into a little squeal as he stops circling your clit, only to pinch it between his thick digits. he coos darkly at your shaking.

"shhshh, darlin', you can take it." he says. his voice is sickly sweet, a condescending comfort. "this is your punishment, sweet'eart. you can be a good girl for me and take it, right?"

you shake your head in an almost frantic manner, absolutely sure that you can't. he murmurs some more sweet nothings at the almost sobbed protests that spill from you. he wouldn't be surprised if you are crying, honestly. 'specially when he starts up again; light and quick, this time.

"no? love, you deserve this, remember?" price reminds you, voice a low rumble. he keeps a careful eye on the trembling of your thighs, ready to support you himself if he's gotta. ready to pull away, if you're really spent enough to call it. "you spent all evening hangin' off Simon, did'ya think I was gonna let that slide? you're mine, love. I'm jus' remindin' you."

"sorry — I'm s-sorry — please, please," you immediately start to gasp. he thinks it's adorable how quickly you start begging for his mercy once you remember what you're being punished for.

"theeeere you go," he groans. your mewling apologies and pleading is like music to his ears. "Sing fo' me, lovie."

hangin' off ghost, honestly. like the man wouldn't notice a pretty young thing like you watching him the whole night at the bar. like he wouldn't be chomping at the bit to get a piece of you, if you got too close.

price expects you to behave around his lads; you know they're ravenous dogs, waiting for his scraps. it's price who decides when to share what's on his plate though, not you. what morsel has a say in who gets to eat them?

"have ya learned your lesson, sweet'eart?" price asks in the same condescending tone as before. you're too far to care about the slightly mean note to his words, other than the fact it makes you clench around nothing. price chuckles when he sees it. "yeah, baby? ready to be a good girl for daddy?"

you nod jerkily, and price clicks his tongue at you. you know better — he needs words outta you, not just empty-headed gestures. in the meantime, his fingers continue to stroke your sensitive clit, making your hips jump in his hand. it is a punishment, after all.

"i'll be good," you sob the promise. even though it stings, you can't help but rock back onto his fingers, desperate for more. for something more filling. "john - ah, daddy, please, i need your cock, please!"

his fingers are off you in a flash. you almost collapse, relief and disappointment at the lack of stimulation mixing into neediness. you don't have to wait more than a moment before price is flipping you around. muscles flexing, clearly not breaking a sweat as he manhandles you onto your back. he parts your legs, not that you make an effort to shut them. you're too worn out to fight, even if you wanted. you don't, though. he can see the want in your eyes.

"there's my good girl," price groans, reaching between your legs again to prod your puffy lips apart. you whine half-heartedly at him, and he pays it no mind. too busy reaching into his trousers to free his aching cock. it looks an angry red after being neglected for your punishment. he groans, low and deep, as he slides the tip through your folds with almost no resistance. "didn't even have'ta tell you to beg for it. you're so wet f'r me, aren't ya, love?"

"please," you whimper. you feel almost like a broken record, but price clearly enjoys it, the way his eyes somehow go a shade darker.

"alrigh', sweet girl, i got you. i know what'cha need."

price could tease you longer, but he's got a soft spot for you. how can he say no to those tears streaking down your cheeks, especially when you don't even seem to notice them. you took his punishment — it'll be another week or two before you start flirting with one of his boys again. for now he'll give you what you want.

he pushes into you in one fluid movement thanks to the slickness of your cunt. it knocks the wind out of your lungs, head craned backwards and eyes fluttering. the both of you moan in unison; his a low timber and yours a high gasp. you rock against him as soon as he's hilted in you — desperate for another release, this time around his cock. as it ought to be.

for a moment price watches you fuck yourself using his cock with half-lidded eyes, reveling in your enthusiasm. depravity, maybe. whichever it is, he enjoys the view.

then he snaps his hips forwards. you choke on a moan, hands flitting between clawing at the sheets and clawing at his arms. price sets a quick pace; he knows you've got to be exhausted by now. as much as he'd love to spend another hour or eight fucking into your wet, warm heat, he can tell you won't last. already you're clenching down around him, chanting ah ah ahs that has him growling back.

"jus' like tha'," he groans, dropping his head to bury against your neck. your arms wrap around his chest, nails pulling at hair just the way he likes. he might not last either at this rate. he can feel the vibrations of your voice as he plants kisses along your neck — you sound gorgeous. broken.

he shifts his hips, fucking up where he knows your sensitive spot is, and listens to you wail. price nips at your jugular and pounds at the spot. your hands scrabble against his back and he lifts his eyes just in time to see yours roll back. he didn't think you could get any tighter but you do — always making daddy proud, the way you surprise him. he groans again as you come around him, his own thrusts stuttering from their previous machine-like pace. it only takes a few more whimpers from you before he's spilling deep inside. he fucks the both of you through it slowly, before he finally relaxes on top of you.

the two of you lay panting for a few minutes, basking in your afterglow. he gathers you close and presses a kiss to your forehead. chuckles when you pull away, whining petulantly at the beard scratching at you.

"tha's my good lass," he murmurs. "go to sleep, love. i'll clean ya up."

[stcknpoke]

Kiss Me Silly

content Arthur Morgan x reader, established relationship, fluffiest fluff that this rusty old hopeless romantic could write. First fic I’ve written in years, please be nice! Reader welcomes Arthur back home after he’s been away on a mission, suggestive ending.

Word Count: 1270 | AO3

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

The past few days had been a painful waiting game. Many of the men, including your dearest Arthur, had been away with no word on when they’d be back. The days hadn’t been any different than usual; the same monotonous chores driven by Miss Grimshaw’s ever-present nagging, the same mystery stew, the same gossip with the girls. It was the nights that wore down on your soul like a drip, slowly but surely eroding away its own path on a boulder. The quiet of the half-empty camp and the missing heartbeat from your bed were the drip, and the path they wore on you was the fear and the doubt. Only at night was it quiet enough for those ugly thoughts to simmer in your mind; thoughts of Arthur shot down and lying dead somewhere. Thoughts of your big, strong man, who always protected everyone else, being unable to protect himself anymore.

The creeping fingers of night were just beginning to take hold of the land, raking away the last remnants of sunset from the sky. You sat next to Abigail, talking just to keep busy, mending one of Arthur’s shirts as you spoke. You could tell John’s lingering absence was wearing on her. She had confided in you the fears that it brought back to her, the way it reminded her of when he had left. The pair of you tried to chat as usual, but in the tense atmosphere any attempt at small talk came out stilted and awkward. Eventually, Abigail left to put Jack to sleep, leaving you with just your thoughts. Your thoughts, and the shirt that you kept scrunching and unscrunching between your fists. It was Arthur’s, and it needed badly to be stitched up. It was an easy enough patch job, it could have taken just 20 minutes to fix, but you had been avoiding changing anything from the way he had left it. So you dawdled, lazily pulling the thread along the torn edges, wasting time to stop and inhale the scent of smoke and sweat, wasting even more time scrunching it as you absentmindedly did now. It wasn’t until the needle pricked into the palm of your hand that you were reminded of the task that you were so close to finishing in the dying light.

A short while later, after just a bit more forlorn procrastination, the shirt was finally good as new. The sun had dipped low beyond the horizon and the sky had blackened, illuminated only by the campfire. The night’s symphony was in full swing; frogs croaking, crickets chirping, a soft breeze that rustled the leaves in a way it could only do under the cover of darkness. Breaking through the predictable night sounds came a deep and irregular drumming, the beating of hooves on the path. Your heartbeat began to quicken as the drumming grew nearer, with both fear of the unknown and anticipation for the expected. Each second drew on like hours, but quickly the horses reached camp and at once the heartbeat of camp returned. You raced toward Arthur, who barely had time to dismount his horse before your arms were thrown around him. Had it been any other man, the enthusiastic impact may have caused him to sway; but Arthur’s burly frame stood strong against the earth, arms returning your embrace.

“Whoah there, batterin’ ram.” he chuckled low under his breath, fatigue creeping in against the edges of his amusement.

You backed away to study his face, his features tired but smiling down at you. “Sorry, just missed ya is all.” you exhaled softly, wasting no time in embracing the man once again. This time, however, your hands clasping behind his shoulders were met with a sharp sting permeating your palm. Recoiling in surprise, you looked at the palm to see the sewing needle from the shirt you were still holding lodged deep into the palm of your hand. “Shit” you cursed under your breath.

Arthur gently took your hand. “C’mere,” he spoke as he looked at the needle. With one smooth motion he removed the metal from the skin. He lifted the palm of your hand to his lips. “All better.” he murmured against your skin, somewhere between a whisper and a kiss. 

He still held your hand firmly in his, but you raised the mended shirt that you still held in your other hand. “Fixed your shirt.” you said as you raised it, its existence somehow proof of its new quality. Arthur only hummed in acknowledgement as he moved to kiss your wrist. 

The edge of camp where you had run to him was empty now, the other men having left to reunite with the campfire. You took a step towards Arthur, becoming aware of the isolation that the darkness offered. Arms draped over his shoulders and around his neck, you leaned upwards to plant a soft kiss to his jawline. After days on the road, his face scratched your lips in a way it hadn’t before. “I missed you.” you whispered against his shoulder , tracing a finger over the spot on his chin where the hair never grew.

He pulled you tighter into his embrace. “I hate to’ leave ya’.” It was his way of returning your sentiment. 

Your lips followed where your hand had traced, leaving a tender kiss against a long-healed scar. “I know…” you exhaled, cupping his square jaw in his hands. You trailed your soft and pouty lips across his face, weathered and scratchy from his stubble. Peppering kisses across his face; from his temples to his chin, the wrinkled outer corners of his eyes to the bent bridge of his nose. The corners of his mouth, but deliberately avoiding his lips. Every scar, proof of pain, was overpowered by merciful love.

He held you, a tender embrace between terrible people, as he guided your chin with his index finger and his thumb. He met your lips with the kind of comfortable familiarity one rarely finds, even in one's own self. Your lips interlocked together, as if they were puzzle pieces made to fit the other pair. How had life passed by before you had known each other? The lingering taste of tobacco and wild mint clung to him, his lips tasted like home. His rough fingers brushed across your cheek as he moved to hold you by the face, savouring his turn to take in the beauty that he had missed while away. Gazing into your heavily-lidded eyes, obscured in the darkness by thick lashes, he brushed a calloused thumb against your plush lower lip as he leaned in to kiss you once more.

You were a strange pair; two outlaws surrounded by a world of death and hurt and somehow it was the comfort of life that sprang forth whenever your spirits met. Though the grim reaper seemed to be your stalker, and Arthur’s closest business partner, darkness and death turned a blind eye to this love. Like a sense of yin and yang, there was some purity left in the blackened hearts of this world. The pair of you weren’t so different, just two souls forced to do wrong in this world. Together, it finally felt like you were doing something right.

Arthur leaned his head away from your lips to speak. “Been away for so long,” he started, brushing a strand of hair away from your eyes. “I wanna do more than jus’ kiss ya’.” he smirked. 

You grabbed him by the hand, “Well then, Mr. Morgan, I think you are in for a lucky night.” you teased back, guiding him to his tent.

[redhead1180]

My So-Called Punishment

About - JJ x fem!reader

Summary - You have been in a mood all day and JJ decides to take matters in his own hands.

Warnings - MDNI, smut, hair pulling, rough housing (?), cursing, fighting, p in v, oral (f rec), let me know if missed anything

A/N - I was having a bad day and decided, I thought a little pure JJ smut would put a smile on my face. Between multiple moots talking about his biceps and the above gif, I had my inspiration. I wanted out faster, but I needed a nap when I got stuck. Then I needed a few cigarettes to get thru the smut. 🙄 Don't judge me.

Credit to original owners of gifs and @saradika-graphics for dividers. 😊

I had been in a shit mood all day. I really didn't know why, yea work was awful, but what else was new. The shit mood started when I woke up. Even JJ's sexy morning voice couldn't make me smile. When I got back to John B's after work, I had at snapped John B, JJ, and even poor Pope, every time they talked to me.

I had gotten a few side eyes from JJ and knew I was pushing my luck with him. The last snarky comment from me to JJ had earned a jaw snap and 'the look' saying I was about to piss him off.

JJ, John B, Pope, and I were watching a movie later in the evening and I got up to get me a beer. JJ asks nicely, I will give him that, to grab him one and I for no reason snap at him "Are you're legs fucking broken?". That was it, he stands up and comes over grabs my hand to drag me to the spare room.

"Somebody's in trouble" John B sings as JJ pulls me through the kitchen to his room.

"Don't be too rough, bro" Pope yells as JJ pushes me in the room.

"Listen, babe, I don't know what the fuck you're problem is today, but I have had it!" He growls at me as he throws me on the bed, slamming the door behind him. I land on my back and my head snaps back up, but I don't waste any time, I turn over and start scrambling to get up and off the bed. I was in for it, I knew it, but I wasn't going down just yet. Maybe this was what I wanted all day, to let off some sexual steam, cause I could feel the heat growing in my core. But I didn't want JJ to know that.

"Oh no, you ain't going anywhere" he snaps as he grabs my ankles, making me slam onto my stomach and starts pulling me back to the edge of the bed. I am trying to grab anything along the way, sheets, pillows, to get leverage to pull myself away. It wasn't doing any good cause they just came with me.

"JJ I ain't in the mood for this" I grunt as I try to kick and thrash at him. He could easily overpower me, we both knew it, but what was the fun in that. He knew I enjoyed trying to assert my dominance, as much as he enjoyed dominating me.

He slaps me hard on my bare thigh and hisses at me "That's for kicking at me". I buried my face as I let out a small moan, hoping he didn't hear it or see the way it soaked my panties. I still wasn't ready to give in, but the fire in my veins was raging. Before I could move, he reaches over me and grabs my shorts and panties, and yanks them both down my legs and tosses them.

"JJ, I swear to God - " I yelp mid sentence as JJ smacks my ass hard, leaving a red hand print. Then leans over me rubbing my cheek to help with the sting.

"You swear what, hmm love?" he teases me in my ear. He stands back up and sits down, hands wrapped around my ankles, attempting to pull my legs over his lap. I am still squirming and thrashing around.

"Stop squirming and being a brat, dammit!" he growls at me smacking my ass again. "You're only making this harder on yourself" I involuntarily let out a moan and feel my hole clench around nothing. I had slowed down enough, his hand wraps around the back of my neck and his other arm wraps around my thighs like a vice grip. I am literally bent over his lap and can't do anything, but squirm a bit. I was getting winded and the fight was getting knocked out of me. He adjusted his arm, effectively pushing my red tinged butt into in the air.

"Is this what you wanted, did you just need a spanking from daddy?" he questions, "Cause from the way you soaked your panties and are dripping down your leg, that's the outcome you wanted." He lets up on his vice grip and I feel him slide his hand between my thighs and pull causing me to gasp as cool air hits my wet hole. I feel his fingers start to run through my folds. I swallow a moan as the fire in my veins starts raging.

"I think 20 slaps are deserved for your brattiness today." he sternly says, "what do you think, princess, hmm?" He continues to rub my wetness around my folds never quite hitting my clit. I stay silent, using the silent treatment against him. I want to growl and moan at the same time. Against my will, I start to move against his fingers, trying for more. He slaps my pussy, making me cry out.

"I asked you a question" he growls. "I can keep this up all day, love."

"Yes!" I huff out.

He smacks my pussy again, drops of my arousal flying through the air.

"Yes what?"

"Yes daddy!" I huff out

"Count for me and don't mess up or we start back at one." He murmurs.

He smacks my cheek hard, I bite my lip and grunt "One." He smacks my other cheek, I feel the back of my eyes start to burn, "Two." He smacks the first cheek again, I let out a small whimper, "Three". He continues to smack my ass, switching cheeks after each one. When done, I am in tears, sniffling, biting and gripping the sheets for dear life.

He gets up and rolls me gently over, laying between my legs, then reaches up and wipes the tears away with his thumbs. "Are we gonna give daddy anymore problems today" he gently asks, as he looks into my eyes, nuzzling his nose against mine.

"No." I whimper out looking back at him, with big doe eyes, tears still in the corners.

"Aww baby I tried to give you warnings, but you wouldn't listen." He mewls as he starts to kiss my tear soaked cheeks. One hand reaching down to rub my hip and thigh lovingly.

"I know," I sputter "I just been in a shit mood all day and I don't know why. Then work was horrible, dealing with kooks harassing me the whole time. I just couldn't help it. "

He brushes some hair off my forehead, chewing on his lip, as if having an internal debate.

"Well I shouldn't ask this, since you were just punished, but you want daddy to make you feel better?" he asks with a little grin.

"Mhmm, please"

He smirks and leans down, kissing me gently, his hand moving from my hip to snake up my stomach, leaving goosebumps in it's wake, and pinch my already hardened nipple. He breaks the kiss for a second to pull my shirt over my head and immediately reattaches his lips to mine forcing his tongue into my mouth. His hand reaches behind my head to grip my hair causing my to tilt up, giving him more access. What was a gentle kiss had turned into a hungry, tongue dominating, teeth clashing kiss that was making my toes curl and forget all about my stinging ass. I let out a whine as I kiss him back just as hungrily.

I desperately start to pull at his shirt, wanting it off, letting out whines and whimpers as he continues his assault on my lips. Desperately needing air, I pull back from the kiss and he starts to place open mouthed kisses down my jaw and neck.

"You have too many clothes on, daddy" I moan out. I hear him chuckle as uses the hand that was on my boob, reaches behind his head, grabs his shirt and pulls it off. His hand going back to its previous spot. I groan loving the feel of his back muscles beneath my hands. His mouth finds a new home on my other tit, sucking and nibbling, until I was pushing my hips up to meet him.

"Is my baby girl a little needy?" he teases as he kisses down my stomach.

"Yes, need more"

"Daddy's got you, I am gonna make you forget all about your shitty mood..." he kissed a trail from hip to hip and then settles on his stomach between my thighs. He uses his fingers to spread me open, blowing gently on my hole, sending a wave of electricity through my system.

"Please daddy!" you gasp grabbing his hair, trying to pull him toward you.

JJ places an open mouthed kiss on you and begins running his tongue through your folds. "God baby you have the sweetest pussy on the whole damn island." he rasps as he starts sucking your pearl. You know you aren't going to last long, the fire running through you going straight to your core. Without letting up his assault on your clit, he slips a finger in and immediately curves it to that sweet spot that will leave you in tremors.

"Fuck!" you gasp out, throwing your head back deeper into the bed, grabbing his hair and holding him to you. He adds another finger and speeds up pumping his fingers in and out of you, your arousal juices running down his fingers and hand, being slung all over your thighs. That familiar pain settles in your core telling you that you were on the edge.

"I'm cum-" you start to gasp, but it turns into a scream as you topple over the edge. JJ removes his fingers and moves mouth to slurp the juices spilling out of you.

JJ sits up, wiping his mouth with the back of hand, "We're not done yet princess" he drawls as he grabs my hips and flips me on my stomach. He rubs my red ass and then puts in the prone position, laying down on top and wrapping his arm around me neck.

Without any warning, he thrusts into me all the way, letting out a groan and starts pounding into me. I grab his biceps and bite him to muffle my scream, the burn from him stretching me almost too much. JJ hisses "Easy baby".

The pain doesn't last long and I become a moaning mess, letting out "uh-uhs" every time he slams into me. JJ's essence is all around me. I can smell salt water, weed and mint. I feel the warmth of his body all over me as he lays on top of me, his sweat mixing with mine as our bodies rub together. The strength of his arm around my neck, so strong, yet so gentle and never hurts me. His other hand on my hip, gripping me to the position he wants. I consume it all into my senses, like a hungry wolf.

"Fuck baby you taking me so good, so fucking tight" JJ moans in my ear. As he speeds up, arm squeezing tighter around my neck, I can hear little grunts and whines coming from him. "Jesus fuck, princess, I love you" he babbles in my ear.

"I love you too, daddy" I grunt out.

JJ pulls my butt up and hits my G-spot, making me cry out. I use one hand to grab the headboard and the other hangs on to his bicep for dear life. My vision starts to go blurry as I see stars every time he hits that spot. I can feel my orgasm building as he slams into me.

"Daddy I am close" I moan out.

"Cmon baby, let go for me" JJ whispers as his hand moves from hip to my clit. He starts vigorously rubbing figure eights on it, helping me reach my high. I feel his thrusts start to stutter, can tell he is getting close too.

"Be a good girl for daddy and cum all over my cock" he rasps out placing his forehead between my shoulder blades.

The praise was all it took for my orgasm to hit like freight train and cause me to clench around JJ, screaming to God and Jesus as the pleasure rushed over me in waves. There is a ringing in my ear, I see stars, and I feel the gush of liquid rush out of me all over my thighs.

"O fuck babe, gonna -shit- rip my -o fuck- dick off" JJ stutters out. He lets out a loud groan as thrusts in me and stills. I let go of the headboard and reach behind me to grab his head holding it close to me.

JJ continues to slowly thrust in me, riding out highs out, then collapses on top of me. My legs are shaking and I am gasping for breath. He takes a minute, catching his breath, then starts leaving kisses along my shoulder blades. He slowly slides out of me and attempts to get up, I let out a whimper and hold tight to his arm.

"I'm not go anywhere baby" he softly chuckles. "Just moving over to the side so I don't smush you."

I weakly turn over on to my back and JJ is on his side, head on his hand, elbow bent, looking down at me. He reaches up and pulls my hair off my sweaty face. He leans down and gives me a sweet kiss.

"Feeling better princess" he smirks down at me.

I smile, a little wobbly, and whisper "Yes." I pause and and bite my finger, look up at him mischievously "I think my shit mood is gone now"

He bursts out laughing, grabbing me for a hug, "God you're gonna be the death of me."

We both hear John B from the living room yell, "Are y'all finally done fucking?"

[frudoo]

I'm actually crying a bit as I write this, I went out today and didn't realize that I chub rubbed a hole through the thighs of my jeans... On each fucking side... Realized it while I was in the middle of the store, could I get the 141 boys reactions to being out with their girl and this situation occurs? I'm so utterly mortified and humiliated right now and this is the only thing I could think to cheer me up. Thank you for reading this 💙

Aww sugar :( that's no fun. I hope you're feeling better, and that you treated yourself to a new pair!

Warnings: Slight mention of weight gain (in an affectionate way), fem!reader.

Kyle Garrick:

     You’re walking hand-in-hand with Kyle along the mall when you feel the slight sting on the insides of your thighs. When you stop walking, Kyle immediately turns around to see what’s going on, his heart already pounding when he sees the concern on your face. He backs you against the wall and blocks you from everyone else’s prying eyes so you can do whatever it is you’re doing more comfortably.

     “Wha’s wrong, dove? Did ya start?” He asks softly as you examine the rips in your jeans. 

     “No,” you sniffle, chest starting to heave with embarrassment. “No, I- my jeans are ripped.”

     “Aw, poor thing. Let’s go get ya a new pair, or four, hm?” Kyle grins, tilting your chin up. “No tears, my baby, s’normal. We’re already at the mall, anyway.”

     You nod and sniffle, smiling against his lips when he leans down to kiss you tenderly.

     “There’s my girl. C’mon, let me spoil ya.”

     John Price:

     Grocery day is already stressful enough, so when you feel the hems on the inside of your jeans burst and your skin getting raw, you break out in a fit of anxious, irritated sobs. John hears your voice and comes running over, narrowed eyes scanning your aisle and the areas around it for any reason you might be so upset. Finding nobody, he relaxes a bit, turning you to face him and massaging your shoulders gently.

     “What’s got you so down, darlin’?” He asks softly, voice dripping with concern.

     “My fucking jeans,” you hiss, lifting one leg onto the bottom of your shopping cart to expose the tears to him.

     “You’re all red. Are you in pain?” His brow creases as he examines your thighs, gently running his fingertips along your skin.

     When you wince, he nods, instantly withdrawing his hand.

     “1-10, how mean is your brain bein’?”

     “Eight,” your bottom lip wobbles, and he wraps one arm around your waist, maneuvering the cart back to the front of the store with his free hand. “John, we have to-”

     “Mm-mm. We’ll have the groceries delivered. Right now, I’m gonna get you home and in bed, and you’re gonna use my card to buy yourself some new jeans online. Understood?” 

     “Understood.”

     Simon Riley: 

     “M’bout to fuckin’ kick this shelf down,” Simon grumbles, glaring at the miscellaneous car parts that, evidently, are pissing him off. 

     “Don’t do that, please,” you giggle softly, trying not to alert him as to the pain you’re feeling.

     You should know better than to hide something from Simon. He grabs your hand to drag you to the next aisle, cocking an eyebrow when he sees just the slightest tweak in your walk.

     “Wha’s wrong?” He asks, looking you up and down as if he’s analyzing the state of your wellbeing. 

     “My jeans ripped and I’m chafing,” you whisper, looking around to make sure there was nobody around to hear about your situation. 

     “Thighs’re gettin’ thicker, eh?” His eyes crinkle and you can tell he’s smiling beneath the black medical mask he’s wearing. 

     “Gee, thanks, Si. Say it louder, why don’t you?” You huff, smacking his bicep hard—as if that’s gonna stop him.

     “I jus’ might,” Simon hooks his arm around you and grabs a handful of your plush hip, giving it a firm jiggle. “I happen t’like my girl soft and tasty.”

     “Okay, o- Simon! Enough!” You giggle as he starts tickling your sides, making you forget all about your pain and embarrassment. 

     “Now,” he hums, satisfied. “M’gonna get us home so I can get those delicious fuckin’ thighs wrapped ‘round m’head.”

     Johnny MacTavish:

     “Bon’? Ye’ve been in there a while,” Johnny’s soft knock sounds on the dressing room door, worry in his tone.

     “I’m fine!” You respond, clearing your throat and wiping away your tears, praying that he can’t hear the despair in your voice. 

     He does. The next thing you know he’s crawling beneath the gap in the door like a damn dog, spinning you around by your shoulders so he can examine your face.

     “Ah- for fuck’s sake, Johnny!” 

     “Och, quit yer whinin’ an’ tell me wha’s wrong,” he barks, one bushy eyebrow raised high.

     “My jeans are ripped and my thighs are chafed and it fucking hurts,” you blubber, angrily pointing at the holes in the fabric where your poor skin has been rubbed raw.

    “Is tha’ all?” Johnny grins cheekily. “Take ‘em off.”

     “Excuse me?” It’s your turn to raise an eyebrow.

     “Ye heard me. Take ‘em off.”

     Rolling your eyes, you comply, surprised when he does the same. He hands you his own pair and takes yours, and you watch with great amusement as he shimmies into your jeans. His are a little too big for you at the bottom and a little too small at the waist, but your shirt is long enough to cover the fact that you had to leave it unbuttoned. Half of Johnny’s calves are exposed in your jeans and the waist droops around him, but damn that beautiful man and his perfect, muscular thighs, they fit in perfectly. 

     “Damn, hen. We should trade more of’en, these make me arse look fantastic!”

So, all in all, the rest of your shopping trip went smoothly, despite all the workers staring at the odd pair of you—and hey, he was right. His ass does look fantastic, especially when it’s buying you new jeans.

[sourcherryandsprinkles]

Can you do a jj x rouledge reader? when the chateau is burning she goes to get something and gets trapped inside and he and john b start freaking out because they can’t get to you, maybe a bit more angst with u losing consciousness and when jj is a mess john b and the pogues realize why (you had a few almost moments like jiara’s) and when you wake he confesses that he loves you 🥺

my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time

—

Everyone gathered in the middle of the chateau, slightly panicked as they watched the flames surrounding them. They were trapped.

Sarah touched the door handle in an attempt to get out and hissed from the burning hot metal. ‘’Ouch.’’

‘’Sarah get away from the door!’’ John B. warned as the fire was rapidly spreading through the house.

The glass could explode from the heat and hurt her severely.

She immediately stepped back.

John B. pulled her close to him, then searched for you. ‘’Where’s my sister?’’ He looked around, but didn’t see you. ‘’Where’s Y/N?’’

JJ’s ears perked up at the mention of your name. He looked at the couch where he saw you last, but the couch was empty. They both called your name, smoke getting in through their mouth and making them cough.

‘’She’s probably outside,’’ Kie said, figuring you had gotten out using the backdoor right by the couch. ‘’Let’s go. We have to get out.’’

Once outside, they all realized that you weren’t there.

‘’Who was the last of us to see her?’’ Cleo asked, being the most calm of the group. ‘’I was with Pope. And you?’’

Kiara shook her head. ‘’I was peeing. She was with JJ.’’

They turned to the blond, who was freaking out by the memorem tree.

He gripped his head, trying to focus and remember what happened inside. ‘’We were sitting on the couch when I saw the fire outside through the kitchen window. I saw Kie coming out of the bathroom and told her there was a fire and to tell the others. When I turned back to the couch, she was no longer there.’’

‘’And you didn't look for her?!’’ John B.’s tone was accusatory, as if he blamed JJ for losing track of you. ‘’Shit, JJ. She’s all I have—’’

‘’She’s all I have too!’’ JJ yelled back, standing head to head with his friend.

‘’Enough!’’ Kiara said louder, coming between the two boys.

Sarah grabbed John B.’s arm and took him away from JJ. Right now was not a time for a boys fight.

‘’She’s inside the house,’’ JJ realized under his breath.

Pope turned to him, but JJ was already running toward the burning house. ‘’JJ! You can’t go in there,’’ he called at him, trying to stop him from doing something reckless and dangerous, but nothing was going to stop him from searching for you.

Inside, you were terrified — and coughing your lungs out. The fire had spread and you were trapped in a corner of the kitchen. Fuck. You had covered your mouth and nose with the sleeve of your flannel shirt to prevent yourself from inhaling so much smoke, but some still managed to get into your lungs.

Between two coughs, you heard someone call your name. You tried to see through the smoke, but it was dark and thick and making your eyes sting.

‘’Y/N!’’

‘’JJ?’’

You didn’t remember how he got to you nor how he got you out. All you knew was when you woke up, your throat was feeling dry and it was hard to breathe. As if the air could not get to your lungs properly.

‘’Get her away from the fire. She needs oxygen,’’ Pope instructed as John B. ran toward you, relieved to see you.

JJ put you down on the grass near the dock. You coughed and Pope asked the girls to fetch you some water.

‘’Where the hell did you go?’’ your brother asked, crowding over you.

Another series of coughs hit you and you opened one side of your button up, revealing an old giraffe plush you had since you were a baby. Mr. Cuddle. He should’ve known you went back to that stupid plushie.

After your brother asked four times if you were okay, Sarah brought you a bottle of water. It was half drunk, but your throat was so dry you didn't care. You took a long swig, then coughed again.

A hand came on your back, rubbing soothing circles until you stopped coughing. ‘’Don't drink too fast,’’ JJ warned, coming to sit right beside you. ‘’I saved you from the fire, I don't want to save you from choking on water too.’’

‘’Yeah, it would make your head swell.’’

He laughed at your quip.

‘’You came back for me.’’

‘’And I'd do it again,’’ he said without hesitation.

‘’I’m sorry for scaring everyone. I shouldn’t have gone back for Mr. Cuddle—’’

JJ pulled you in a hug, shushing you. It didn’t matter anymore. ‘’I’m not gonna hold it against you. I did the same thing. I saved something that was important to me.’’ He held his breath after his confession, expecting a rejection, but you tightened your arms around him, sinking into the hug. 

—

OBX taglist: @moralina @eudximoniakr @toylewestinnyc @rottenstyx  @sweeterheartxamerica  @jordierama @viridwityy @izzy-laufeyson @kenzi-woycehoski @lilaconner @Katsukis1Wife�� @hawkegfs @mommyruuetrue  @acornacreacure @snownjune @nmedina8611 @slvtherinseeker  @slvtherinseeker @poppet05 @1stevelacyfan @illf4iry @withbeautyandrage

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[bunnyinvanilla]

HII SWEATHEART

me again i hope i am not bothering you but i love your writing and you seem to be so so sweet and kind!! what about reader hearing someone at the bar or other place talking bad about Price and she goes to defend him in a very cute way but the person end up being very rude to her and she has to hold her tears?

again love the way you write never stop!

oh teddy bear you could never bother me promise you if anything im flattered by your kind n nice words thank you so so much muffin !! i think God has put me into this world to be kind and sweet with everyone, being kind is what i love doing the most <333 thank you for this req i just love this idea smmmm ┊͙ ˘͈ᵕ˘͈

🥧 | sugar daddy!john price x sugar baby fem! reader, laaarge age gap, john is in his 40s n reader is 21, rude ppl :(, crybaby reader, little defending her dd?? ughhhh

that costumer was a bit too loud for your taste, his voice rising above the gentle conversations around him. He had a beer in his hand and an annoyed look on his face as he vented to his friend,

“yeah, the owner’s only good at scaring people away from his own bar, acting like he’s on the field all the time, can’t do this, can’t do that, a washed up grump that keeps barking orders like he owns the damn whole town”

you froze mid-wipe, the little cloth pressed tight between your fingers and the wooden countertop, as you carefully looked over your shoulder, towards those men — his voice was a bit too loud for your liking, his words a bit too offensive.

”he’s so arrogant too, its a surprise he doesn’t shoot people for even looking at him,”

John? your, John?

your eyes softened, and your poor, gentle heart sank upon hearing those people talk so meanly about your man :( especially when they couldn’t be more distant from the truth.

they didn’t lie when they said that it was easier to defend someone you loved and cared about, than yourself, which is why you straightened your back, placed the cloth on the side and filled a glass with water, aiming towards their table.

“excuse me,” wearing your most polite, nicest costumer smile, although you could feel it falter on your lips, you placed a glass of water down on their table, “I couldn’t help but overhear your conversation and…thats not nice, he could be here and hear you, you know?”

the man took a slow deep of his beer, giving you a disinterested look, before smirking behind his glass and lowering it.

“oh, I see,” he said with a sarcastic lilt. “You’re one of those, huh? Gold diggers, defending the old man.” He leaned back, crossing his arms. “let me guess…some big, tough man that pays you to be nice with him, just because he can shoot a gun and bark orders doesn’t make him a good person, or a hero”

your sweet smile dropped and you blinked, your chest tightening. You hadn’t expected this. You hadn’t expected to be ridiculed—especially when all you wanted to do was stand up for him, gently, even.

your cheeks burned red with embarrassment, and you could feel your throat constricting, but you held your ground, forcing yourself to speak and maintaining a well mannered voice.

“I—I’m not a gold digger, and- you don’t even know him..you really should be careful about judging someone without even knowing who they are, especially when you’re coming to his bar”

the man rolled his eyes and scoffed. “please, save me the lecture, darling. That man has become filthy rich working with the americans, and when he gets back here he acts like a hero of the country, he should just retire soon, we only come here cause the liquor is old and expensive, just like him”

you stood there, trying to keep your composure, but the words cut deeper than you expected — a lump formed in your throat, and you could feel the sting of tears threatening to escape, you were never good at handling emotions or conversations, the the slightest rude word made you cry.

“he works in the military to protect people, and he’s not a bad man, that’s just- that’s rude, why can’t you just be nice? he’s just doing his job, and he helps people in need-“

“did he pay you to say that too, it only took one slip to his bed, right?”

that’s what you did when you felt like you couldn’t keep up with talking anymore, you ran — without waiting for another response, you turned away, walking back to the bar, frustration sparking off every step of your heels.

why was confronting people so hard? it didn’t surprise you that you only felt safe with John around

the lump in your throat tightened, and before everyone could see the promise of tears being revealed on your soft, kind face, you walked down towards his office, but felt a large hand on your waist, stopping you.

you whipped around, your heart racing.

it was John.

“hey, hey, doll, what’s going on?” he let his eyes dart worriedly around your weary face, tilting his head to peer down at your teary expression — his rough, yet gentle tone cut through the emotional fog that had settled over you “why are you crying, my love?”

you blinked, trying to steady yourself, but your vision blurred with unshed tears. His eyes softened as he stepped closer, his large hands resting on your shoulders.

“did someone say something?” he asked, his voice lowered, sounding more protective, you could hear the slight tone of warning and threat towards whoever might have made you cry. 

a single tear slipped down your cheek, and you quickly wiped it away, embarrassed. But John didn’t seem bothered by it — he’d learned peoples’ different body languages throughout the years, especially yours, his little girl expressed herself through tears, it was his role as a caregiver to read behind the delicate pearls.  

“they were saying mean stuff about you, sir, didn’t like that, just wanted to…to defend you, that’s it, but they thought i was a gold digger and..other things that I don’t wan’ you to hear,”

he quickly caught a silent tear with his thumb, wiping it away and pressing his hand against your cheek “angel, you don’t have to fight my battles, I assure you I don’t care about anyone’s opinion, couldn’t care less, princess, im a grown man,”

“but its unfair, i hate when people say mean things about others…you always treat me so well and they don’t know it, you weren’t even there to say something”

he cooed down at you, the tiniest hint of a small smile tilting his mustache upwards “oh sweetheart, i appreciate it, im honored to be defended by such a cute, loyal bunny, mmh??” he scratched your chin with two fingers, making you smile softly between your tears, and wipe your cheeks, still sniffling, finally feeling comfortable enough to let the faucet running.

“let daddy handle this, I sure as heck don’t fuckin’ care about what others say, love, too old to mind, only care about this pretty thing right here” he lifted his fingers, pushing your chin upwards and giving your nose a little kiss “no more tears for daddy, got it? he can take care of himself,”

you nodded, he exuded control and authority all the time, like nothing ever touched him, and with yet another kiss on your lips this time, slow and firm, he tilted his head towards his office. “wait for daddy there, aight? I’ve ordered some apple cider to try and sell at the bar, for people with health issues that can’t drink alcohol. Go try it and tell daddy if it’s good, okay?”

you almost let your chin wobble again at how thoughtful the idea was, but only nodded again, reaching up to give him another kiss before slipping to his office like a hopping rabbit.

john straightened his back, cracking his neck, his bones emitting a sound he didn’t like. With a serious, unimpressed look, he strolled down towards the tables, his eyes finally finding those two men.

simon and gaz had warned him about some bastards making his missus cry, that’s why you didn’t found him in the office, he’d been looking for you.

without saying a word, he appeared behind them, and clasped his hands tight against the back of their necks, gripping them in a fake, friendly greeting gesture, using too much force — they almost jumped on their seat, their drinks almost slipping from their hands.

“gentlemen, heard ya were' talkin' 'bout me. If ya so bloodyy' interested in me story, you can ask, I don’t bite, what ya say? maybe ya want to enlist with me? want to feel the drill of a mission, maybe not coming out alive?”