Oh lord have mercy on my soul! Your art is so beautiful!
I'm glad you came over to Tumblr. I too am a lover of Price. He is...a treat. A man of quality.
I also love Konig. I'm curious, have you ever tried drawing him, with or without the mask? In cannon, we don't have confirmation of what he looks like, but other artists have made their own designs. The way Bluegiragi does him, is *chefs kiss*.
No pressure, if that's not a character you intend to draw, then I dont want to push you towards it.
If you keep posting nothing but Price, I will not be complaining.
Thank you sm! 💖💖 I agree with your statements on price.
When it comes to Konig... well I don't have much interest in him ngl. I'm only really invested in tf141 and lightly informed about characters they interact with.
That being said....
Here's my take on Konig just for ya :) (a bit lazy w the details)
I really don't mind requests of other characters, I will doodle them or do my take on their faces if they're wearing masks. I've been enjoying studying faces lately so this is fun ^^
But don't expect anymore content (or anything consistent) of them beyond that ✋🤚
The air in the supply closet was stuffy, unconformably so. A single fluorescent light hovered overhead, not giving you nearly enough illumination. The room, much too small for your own comfort. Except, inventory had to be done.
You sat crossed legged on the floor, scanning through barcodes. Logging tablets. Sorting through cables.
You got to your knees and from your position on the ground, reached to the clipboard you had a couple shelves up. Clicking your pen, you checked off the area you just completed.
Half-way done.
Then a familiar Scottish accent filled the small space, “Didn’t take you for the type to enjoy bein’ on your knees, lass. Should’ve said somethin’ sooner.”
A chuckle escaped, and you turned to look up at him, your tone rolling with mirth, “Hello there, Highlander.”
Soap leaned on the door frame. Arms crossed. A brow arched, and a devastating smile playing on his lips. A little lopsided and a little cheeky. “Careful, lass.”
You leaned back on your heels, but didn’t turn completely to face him. Only peered over your shoulder. You toyed with the pen in your hand, a devious smile formed on your lips, “Or what?”
His arms unfolded and with a softness that defied his gaze, he shut the door. Two heavy boot steps is all it took for him to be in front of you. Your gaze never left his as he squatted down. Legs open. His forearms resting lazily on his knees.
He was close. Close enough for his finger to lightly brush the hand holding your pen.
“Or I make good on every filthy thing I’ve said to you this past week.”
You pouted, a slight frown, “That’s not much of a threat now, is it?”
He chuckled, a deep one that you could feel. His eyes glinted with something mischievous in the low light.
You adjusted and twisted around to face him fully, still on your knees, all prim and proper as you said, “It’s not a threat if I want all of those things.”
“Well…” He leaned in, his hands grabbing the shelves on either side of you. Caging you in as he continued, “I could do all of those things, right here.”
Your eyes involuntarily flicked to the door. He saw that.
“Door’s not stoppin’ me.” His voice dropped, accent thicker, “But if it’s yer mouth I’ve gotta worry about, then I bet ye can’t keep quiet while I do this…”
His fingers found the waistband of your pants and slipped just beneath it, “Bet you’re soaked already,” he muttered, breath warm against your cheek. “Bet you’ll be beggin’ before I even stretch you.”
Then, his hand moved lower, slipping between your legs, slow and steady. As though he had all the time in the world to ruin you. As if, there wasn’t an entire base of people beyond that door.
A breathy gasp escaped your lips. You instinctively placed your hands on his shoulders, dropping your pen. It clattered to the floor. The noise felt louder in the small space.
You tried to right yourself and regain some control, your voice sweetened , “Still not a threat, I can be quiet...” You leaned forward, a breath away from his lips, and spread your knees a little wider, adding, “Quiet as a church mouse.”
He arched a brow, his gaze flicking down as he undid your pants. Just enough to let himself in. Your lips parted as his hand slipped down, knuckles grazing the lace of your underwear before resting at the heat of your pussy. His smile turned wicked as he growled out, “Soaked.”
Your mouth went dry as you tried to steady your breathing, silently.
His brow raised, “Impressive, but I’m just gettin’ started, lass.”
Then, he adjusted himself onto his knees. Helping to slide you back, just a bit, so your back hit the metal of the shelf. With a better position, his finger easily slid through your folds. Slow and deliberate. His free hand tangled in your hair, grabbing a firm handful and tugging your head back just enough to bare your throat to him. He pressed open-mouthed kisses to the curve of your jaw.
Your hands fisted into his shirt. The smallest gasp escaped your lips as he dragged his slick fingers up to your clit. Slow and purposeful. He caught the soft bud between his middle and ring finger, pinching just enough to make your breath hitch.
He smiled against the pulse at your throat, voice low, “If that made you gasp, you’re in trouble.”
His fingers began to work in firm, rhythmic circles. All the while he nipped at your throat, licking the marks he made as he went. No rush. No hurry.
The closed door taunted you. Provoked you.
You leaned into him, close to his ear as you whispered, “Is this where you make me beg, or are you gonna get to the good part?”
His smirk deepened as his lips brushed yours but never quite closing the distance as he whispered, “Beg?” he murmured. His fingers dragged lazy, infuriating circles against your clit. “You’re not nearly desperate enough for me to let you do that.”
You twitched when his fingers hit just the right spot. His grin told you that he felt that.
Then, his mouth was on yours. He tasted like coffee, with a sharp bite of mint. His hand, still buried in your hair, gripped tighter. His other increased pace. You moaned softly into his kiss and you could feel his smile against your lips.
His fingers were hitting that spot, over and over. Again and again. You could feel your insides coiling tighter. The pressure building. Your hands slid into his hair as you pulled him deeper into the kiss. When your nails scraped his scalp, he groaned into your mouth. Low and filthy, like he couldn’t help it.
This seemed to give him an extra boost, as his fingers worked relentlessly in short, swift bursts on your clit. Your body shuddered. One hand stayed in his hair as the other dragged across his shoulders.
Your moan caught in your throat just as Soap tore his lips from yours. Your head fell back against the cold steel shelf, bottom lip caught between your teeth as you fought to stay quiet. He didn’t let up. His fingers kept their relentless pace, pushing you straight through your climax as your body trembled under his touch.
The heat spread out from your core, up your chest and through your limbs as a calming release settled over you.
His fingers slowed as your mouth opened. Panting, as you tried to catch your breath.
“That pretty little moan almost gave us away.” He said as he dipped his fingers back into your folds. The tip of one brushing the soaking entrance of your dripping cunt. Pushing slowly into it. His voice grew deeper as he added, “Do ye want me buried in that sweet cunt?”
Your heavy lidded gaze met his and with a devilish grin, you said, “Less talk, more cock, Johnny.”
His eyes darkened and his smirk faded as something more feral passed over his expression.
Next thing you knew, you were spun around on the floor. You ass in the air and your pants yanked down to your thighs.
The metallic clink of a belt buckle echoed off the walls and the shifting of fabric made you clench involuntarily.
Then, he was there, with his legs caging yours in. His cock slid through the swollen and soaked folds of your pussy. Hot and smooth.
He growled out, “Yer the one who asked for this.”
Then he snapped his hips forward, burying himself to the hilt with a filthy, wet sound. Your breath punched out of you as your body arched, your legs nearly giving out from the sudden, delicious stretch. And then he started to move. Slow at first, cruel and deep, like he wanted you to feel it. His arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you back, making you take it.
His voice was low and dangerous as he kept up his steady thrusts, “Still want less talk? Or do ye need me to fuck you speechless first?”
Your hands gripped the shelf in front of you. Mouth opening on a soundless gasp. Chest pressing into the cold floor as your back arched.
Soap leaned over you, his chest hot and solid against your back, breath thick on your ear. The arm around your waist tightened, locking you in place.
Then he whispered, low and filthy, “Try to stay quiet. Go on. Let’s see if you can.”
His hips slammed into you, hard. Your breath punched out of your lungs as he filled you all over again. Your hands scrambled for purchase, hips jolting forward with every snap of his. The lewd sound of skin on skin filled the tiny room. Filthy and shameless as his cock plunged into you with punishing rhythm, dragging across every aching nerve you had.
You couldn’t hold it back much longer, as a soft whimper slipped past your lips.
Soap chuckled behind you, his hand sliding from your waist up to your mouth. His other, planted firmly on your hip.
“Can’t stay quiet?” he purred, “Let’s fix that.”
Then he clapped his palm over your mouth, silencing your cries as he picked up the pace. Rough, relentless, and merciless. The shelf shook with the force of it, your whole body rocked back and forth as he used you. Every thrust, deeper than the last.
Your eyes fluttered shut, knuckles white where you gripped the shelf, and under his hand, your muffled moans grew frantic.
His hand stayed clamped over your mouth, holding you still, keeping you quiet. Your body started to quake around him. He felt it, the way your cunt clenched on him, fluttering, needy, so close to breaking apart.
He chuckled low in your ear, breath hot and taunting, “Tremblin’ like a leaf… all fucked out already?”
His hips rolled with wicked intention. Dragging his thick cock in deep.
“Gonna fall apart all over my cock, are ye?” he asked, his accent a sinful purr. “Ye want to come, lass?”
You nodded desperately, hips pushing back to meet every thrust, shame be damned.
“Be a good girl and make a fuckin’ mess on me.”
And that was it.
Your body shattered, clenching hard around him as your climax tore through you, white-hot and wild.
“There it is,” he groaned, hips stuttering, “that’s it, that’s my girl…fuckin’ soak me, just like that.”
He held you tight as you rode it out, guiding your body through every pulse, every shiver, never once letting up.
Your body was still twitching with aftershocks, legs trembling, breath ragged. But Soap didn’t stop.
He couldn’t.
His pace grew harsher again, sloppier. Less control, more need. His cock was still buried deep, dragging through the mess he’d coaxed out of you, each thrust punching a soft, wet sound into the air. His hands held you tight, like he couldn’t bear even an inch of distance now.
He let out a groan that was pure filth. Raw. Primal.
His hips jerked once, twice, before he buried himself to the hilt. A shudder ran through his whole body as he came deep inside you, cock pulsing. The warmth of him spilling into you.
His breath was ragged, forehead resting against the crook of your neck.
“Fuck,” he murmured, almost a laugh.
His breath slowed against your shoulder, hot and uneven. One hand stayed firm on your waist, like he still needed that last bit of control.
You felt the pulse of him still twitching deep inside you.
“Christ…” he breathed, voice wrecked.
He pressed a kiss to the curve of your shoulder. Then, slowly, he pulled himself up and his hips back. You gasped at the drag of him, sensitive, slick, overstimulated. And when he slipped free of you, he groaned at the sight.
“Look at that…Fuckin’ drippin’.”
You felt the warm spill of him leak from your pussy, sticky and hot down your thighs. Soap’s hand dropped between your legs, two fingers sliding through the mess he left behind.
“Wish you could see how ruined you look right now.”
You chuckled, "What’s wrong, Highlander? Never seen a woman ruined for you before?"
Soap let out a low chuckle, one hand trailing down your spine, “Aye, I’ve seen it, but never looked half as good as you do right now.”
He gave your ass a slow, heavy smack. Closer to a caress. Then, pulled away just enough to tug your clothes back into place. Legs trembling with the aftermath as you sat up on your knees.
“Up you go, lass,” he said with a wicked grin. “Don’t need the whole base findin’ out why I’ve gone soft for a girl in a closet.”
“Please,” you said, smirking. “Soft is certainly not what I would call what we just did.”
Soap chuckled behind you, “Aye, fair enough.”
You let out a breathy laugh, still trying to get your heartbeat under control. His presence lingered for a second longer before he finally stood up.
The room filled with the whispers of both your zippers and rustling of fabric. The metallic click of a belt.
Then, Soap extended his hand down to you.
When you placed your hand in his, he hauled you in one quick motion while capturing your waist. Pulling you in close. You buried your face in his shoulder, trying to muffle your laugh.
As though it was his favorite thing about you, he said, “Yer trouble, y’know that?”
“And yet here you are…” You ran a hand down his chest, lingering. “Still holding on to me.”
He whispered in your ear, soft and low, “Aye.”
You both stayed like that for a few lingering minutes. Hearts beating fast. Breaths syncing. Neither of you ready to open that door.
Your chest heaved as you came down from the high Price put you through, skin flushed and damp with sweat, limbs loose and useless. But even as your body sagged back onto the sheets, he stayed right there. Kneeling between your legs, one broad hand splayed possessively on your thigh, the other slowly withdrawing from you, fingers slick and glistening.
He watched your face the whole time.
“Fuckin’ beautiful,” he murmured, almost to himself. Then his tone shifted, the wolfish glint returning to his voice. “You’ll behave now, yeah?”
You blinked up at him, dazed. “Mmmaybe.”
John chuckled. Low. Dangerous.
He leaned in, bracing himself with one hand beside your head, the other catching your jaw to tilt your face up to his again. His thumb brushed your lower lip, slow and steady.
“Still mouthing off?” he asked softly.
You gave him a lazy, smug grin. “Takes more than that to shut me up, Captain.”
A dangerous pause.
“Cheeky little thing,” he said, his voice darker. His hand trailed down again, brushing through the folds of your swollen pussy, gathering your slick onto his fingers. He dragged them up, slow and deliberate, until he pressed them against your lips.
“Open.”
You did.
“Good girl.”
He let you taste yourself off his fingers, watching intently, and you swore you could feel his cock twitch against the fabric of those damned sweatpants still hanging low on his hips.
“Y’think you’ve earned this?” he asked, grabbing your hand and dragging it to his lap. Letting you feel the thick length straining under grey cotton.
You swallowed. Nodded.
He leaned down to your ear, voice like smoke and gravel.
“Then get on your knees and prove it.”
As Price moved off from the edge of the bed, you slid off, legs shaky but obedient, and sank to the floor in front of him. His eyes followed your every move, arms crossed over his chest like he was appraising you. Judging your willingness. Measuring your sincerity.
You palmed him through the fabric first, with slow strokes along the thick length beneath his sweats. He was hard. Of course he was. You bit your bottom lip as your desire threatened to consume you. The little groan he let slip when your fingers curled into the waistband was divine.
You tugged the sweatpants down just enough, freeing him from the fabric. His cock was thick, flushed, and heavy in your hand. You didn’t waste time. Your lips brushed the head with soft reverence. A delicate kiss. Then, you took him into your mouth, slow and as deep as your throat would allow.
Above you, Price hissed through his teeth. One large hand found the back of your head, firm but not forceful.
“Good girl,” he muttered, hips twitching forward. “Just like that.”
You worked him steadily with your wet and eager mouth, your spit dripping down his length as your mouth slid back and forth. You tried to impress him. Tried to be what he wanted. You even looked up through your lashes while sucking him down, playing the part of the obedient little thing.
And for a second…it worked.
Except, you couldn’t help yourself. The urge to toy with him was devouring you, like a wildfire consuming a forest. You pulled off him with a pop, giving him a smug look. Slick-mouthed, and pleased with yourself.
“Oops” You said with a pout, feigning innocence as your fingers wrapped around him again. “Slipped.”
His jaw ticked. That hand in your hair tightened. And before you could blink, he had you up on your feet. His other hand gripped your jaw firm enough that your mouth fell open under the delicious pressure.
“Slipped?” he repeated, voice dangerously quiet. “You call that slippin’, sweetheart?”
You tried to hold your smirk. Almost made it. But then he leaned down, nose brushing yours, gaze locked in on your lips.
“You keep slippin’ like that,” he murmured, “and I’ll forget all about fuckin’ you. I’ll just bend you over and leave you stuffed full of my fingers again. Let you sob for my cock while I make you say please with that filthy little mouth.”
You whimpered, involuntaryly. And he heard it.
“There she is,” he purred.
He let go of your face slowly, dragging his thumb over your lower lip one last time.
“Now,” he said, stepping back just enough to give you a choice. “Do you want to try again? Or do you want to spend the rest of the night beggin’ and never gettin’?”
Your eyes flicked to his cock. It was hard, heavy, and right there. Your body ached. Your thighs trembled.
You swallowed softly as you dropped your gaze, “…Please,” you said, quiet.
He tilted his head.
“Try again.”
You looked up at him, lips parted, chest heaving.
“Please, John. I want you to fuck me.”
He stepped forward, cupped the back of your neck, and kissed you with a deep possession, teeth dragging across your lip like he could barely restrain himself.
“Good girl,” he growled against your mouth. “Now get on the bed. Hands and knees. Let’s see how loud you can get.”
You scrambled back onto the bed, face down, arching your back instinctively. With your ass raised, you spread yourself wide. Your hands fisting into the sheets. The air felt electric against your bare skin, anticipation buzzing under every inch of you.
The rustle of fabric. His sweatpants finally hit the floor and the sound made your stomach flutter.
Then his hands were on you.
One gripped your hip, the other pressed flat between your shoulder blades, holding you down, guiding you exactly how he wanted you. Helpless and open for him.
“Look at you,” he muttered, voice low with desire, rough with his own need. “Back arched, legs spread... guess you can behave after all.”
You opened your mouth to answer, but gasped instead when you felt the blunt head of his cock drag through your soaked and puffy cunt. He teased you with it, slow, unhurried, rubbing himself against your entrance but not pushing in.
“Please,” you breathed, already trembling.
“Please what, sweetheart?” he asked, still not giving you what you needed.
“Please fuck me.”
He leaned over you, chest against your back, mouth grazing your ear.
“Louder.”
“Please, John,” you cried. “I need your cock! Please, just fuck me!”
His grip tightened.
And then he slammed into you in one deep, devastating thrust.
You choked on a scream. Your vision going blurry as his thick cock, stretched you wide, filling you so deep you felt him in your gut. He didn’t give you a second to adjust before pulling back and driving into you again. Again. Again.
“That's it,” he growled, hips slapping against your ass. “Not so mouthy now, are ya?”
You tried to speak. All that came out was a breathless whimper.
He grabbed both your wrists and pinned them behind your back with one hand, the other gripping your hip like a vice. His rhythm was relentless. He pounded into you, driving the air from your lungs with every stroke.
“Christ,” he bit out. “It’s like this cunt was fuckin’ made for me.”
You cried out, back arching further, the angle hitting something devastating inside you.
He fucked you through it. Unrelenting. Every thrust felt like a punishment and a reward wrapped in one.
“Good girls get to come,” he grunted, voice rough and close to breaking. “Think you earned it yet, sweetheart?”
You nodded furiously, tears in your eyes, sobbing his name like it was a prayer.
He smacked your ass once, sharp, then dragged his fingers between your legs to circle your clit, fast and brutal.
“Then come for me.”
With his command you came apart on a loud and earth shattering moan, your whole body clenching around him as he continued to fucked you through it. You barely registered the broken groan he let out when he followed, burying himself deep and spilling into you, his grip never faltering.
In the pause that followed, the air thick with unspoken words, the only sounds were the rhythmic, heavy breaths of the two of you. You collapsed onto the sheets, gasping, boneless, and ruined. Every muscle in your body trembled as he slowly pulled out of you. Your pussy fluttered around nothing, clenching on air as if it could drag him back in by force.
But he hadn’t gone far.
You felt his hand on the back of your thigh, then his fingers, dragging through the mess between your legs, slow and deliberate.
You flinched. He chuckled.
“A bit much for you, love?” he asked, voice still thick and dark with satisfaction.
You whimpered, trying to wiggle away. He caught your hips easily, pulling you back, keeping you exactly where he wanted you.
“I asked you a question.”
You shook your head weakly into the sheets as you stuttered out, “To-too much…”
He hummed. Mocking sympathy.
“Oh, is my cock too much for you now?” He leaned in again, lips brushing your ear. “Didn’t sound like it when you were beggin’ for it.”
You groaned as his fingers slid between your folds again, gathering slick and using it to rub slow, deliberate circles on your overstimulated clit.
You jerked, gasping. “John…please…”
“Thought you wanted to be good,” he murmured, ignoring your pleas as he kept going. “Good girls take what they’re given.”
You choked out a moan, thighs trembling again. You were going to come again, already, how was that possible?
He kissed your temple, still relentless with his fingers.
“C’mon now. One more for me.”
You tried to twist away, but his hand stayed firm, holding you in place while he worked your clit with devastating precision. His body pressed to yours from behind. He was steady, unmovable, and grounding.
“Shhh,” he whispered when you sobbed. “I know. I know it’s too much. You’re gonna give it to me anyway.”
You shook, overwhelmed, panting into the mattress as the heat built again, bright and unbearable. Every nerve in your body lit up as he drove you toward the edge with slow, confident touches.
“That’s it,” he coaxed. “Let it happen. You’re doin’ so well.”
You could barely form words, but your body obeyed. Your pussy tightened, ached, pulsed, and then you broke. Again.
You came with a strangled sound, half-cry, half-plea, your body convulsing under him as wave after wave crashed through you. It was too much, too raw, too good. He never stopped touching you, even as you whimpered, whispering his name like you could anchor yourself with it.
Only when your body gave out completely, hips twitching and breath hitching, did he finally ease his hand away.
You collapsed fully, shaking, eyes blurry and heart pounding. You were wrecked. Undone. Completely spent.
And then… he softened.
He pulled you into his arms, settled the both of you onto your sides, cradling you against his chest with strong, steady hands. One stroked your hair, the other rubbed circles along your back. Gentle now. Grounding.
“Good girl,” he murmured against your temple. “Took it so well. Proud of you.”
You didn’t have the strength to reply, but the way you melted into him said enough.
He kissed your forehead, his voice low and soothing.
“Let’s get you cleaned up in a bit. You rest. I’ve got you.”
You nodded faintly, letting your eyes drift closed.
Night had already set in by the time you glided your car into your driveway. As you shifted into park and watched your garage door close in your rearview mirror, you sighed heavily. The day had been long. Full of meetings that could have been emails and spreadsheets that should have been meetings. Typical.
You grabbed your bag, stepped out of the car, and slammed the door shut with a bit too much force. It felt good. You threw your heels off. Letting them land wherever they felt like. You were too tired to care.
Opening the door to your home, you groaned when you saw the stairs. Somehow, on the days you were the most annoyed, you always seemed to forget there were stairs. It was only one flight though. Then, you could fall onto the couch.
As you slowly ascended the stairs, each step heavier than the last, you heard something. It sounded like a bag rustling. Then, glass clinking.
You froze.
Then, you slowly removed the pepper spray from your bag. Adjusting it just right in your hand as you continued to move up the steps. There was a light coming from your kitchen. Was a burglar eating your food?
Your shoulders relaxed when you heard a familiar, British accented voice say your name, followed by, “You got any dijon?”
Dropping the pepper spray back into your bag, you groaned as you cleared the last few steps and into the living room of your home. You could see Captain John Price rummaging through your fridge, squatted down low, looking through condiments.
“Yeah, at the bottom. To the left.” You said as you tossed your bag on the floor next to the couch.
He hummed in acknowledgement when he found the mustard, and stood up. He gently closed the fridge and made his way to the counter while you walked over to the bar that separated the living room from the kitchen, taking a seat. Watching him with an unamused look.
“What the hell are you doing here, John?” You asked as you slumped down on the cool granite.
He scoffed as he took a piece of bread off the top of an already made sandwich, “I told you, I’m crashin’ here this weekend. I sent you a text.”
You thought back to your day as he grabbed a knife and spread out the condiment on the soft bread. You remembered now. He had messaged you that morning saying he would be in town. This wasn’t an unusual event. You two had known each other for several years. He had a key. Something you gave him when he complained about the cost of hotels. Your guest room was hardly ever used, so why not lend it out to him a few times a year when he needed it.
You sighed and rubbed your hand down face, “Oh sorry, I forgot. Long day.”
He finished assembling his sandwich, put the mustard back, and was rinsing off the knife when he asked, “Ain’t that merger still, is it?”
You nodded as you placed your chin in your hand, “Yep. Should be finalized by next week.”
He grabbed the sandwich, now cut in half, and around a mouth full asked, “Want some?”
You stared at the food and nodded silently. He handed one half over to you and you both ate in a comfortable silence. He finished his in a few large bites while you were still half way through yours. Too tired to devour it.
“You look like you need a coma.” John said with a low chuckle.
Between bites, and without much thought, you said, “I need to get laid.”
John laughed, “Yeah? Is that so?”
You groaned, “Sorry, it’s been a long week. Fuck, it’s been a long month. A long year.” You finished the last bite of your sandwich and added, “It’s not your problem. Forget I said anything.”
“I can make it my problem.” he said in a low voice, with something more dancing underneath it.
You gazed over at him, raising your brow as you took in his mischievous smile. For the first time all day, a smile broke out on your lips. Growing bigger by the second.
“Oh yeah?” You asked, your tone playful. Your eyes finally roamed his body. He had showered already, his hair still damp and combed out of his face. His beard wasn't trimmed, but it was clean. He wore a plain white shirt that hugged his shoulders in the most tantalizing way. The counter blocked most of the view, but a pair of grey sweatpants clung to his hips.
Your eyes met his again and his smile turned devious, “Like what ya see?”
An even larger smile spread across your lips as a laugh came out, loud and full. You tried to gain your composure as John added, his tone playful, “Oh, is my offer of fuckin’ you senseless, funny to you?”
You leaned back on the stool and crossed your arms, “Maybe. I don’t really see you as the ‘fucking women senseless type’, old man.”
He didn’t move right away. Only watched you, arms crossed, the corner of his mouth twitching like he was deciding how much trouble you deserved. Then, he stepped around the counter, slow and deliberate. His bare feet were quiet against the tile, but somehow he made the whole room feel smaller.
“That so?” he asked, voice low and gravelly. “You think I’m all talk?”
You opened your mouth, to keep teasing and to challenge him again. Except then, he was in front of you, close enough to steal the breath from your lungs. One hand found the back of your stool, the other tilted your chin up until you had no choice but to meet that dark, glinting gaze.
“S’funny,” he murmured, mouth brushing yours, “because you’re about to be beggin’ that same old man not to stop.”
You didn’t get the chance to answer. His lips found yours in a kiss that started slow, and deepened fast. His hand slid from your chin to the back of your neck, pulling you in tighter, controlling the angle like he needed you to feel how serious he was.
By the time he pulled back, you were breathless. He looked entirely unbothered, smirking, relaxed, cocky in a way that had your thighs clenching.
“Let’s see if you’re still laughin’,” he said, voice like a promise, “when I’ve got you cryin’ on my cock.”
Your grin widened, but your breath hitched just a little. He saw it, and that smug, knowing look spread across his face like fire catching dry brush. He leaned in and said, low and rough, “You gonna sit there all night actin’ brave, or are you gonna stand up and let me ruin that attitude?”
You cocked your head, lips twitching. “Might need some convincing.”
That was the last straw.
Without a word, he gripped your thighs and pulled fast enough to catch you off guard. His grip was firm enough to draw a sharp yelp from your lips. You barely had time to blink before he had you off the stool and up and over his shoulder. One arm over your hips and holding you like it was nothing.
“Fuck’s sake,” he muttered, starting down the hallway as you pressed your hands into his back and laughed, “I offered to be nice about this.”
“Mmmm, you sound a little desperate, old man.”
He gave your ass a solid smack in response, hard enough to sting and soft enough to be playful.
“Keep runnin’ that mouth, sweetheart. You’re only makin’ it worse for yourself.”
You could feel the heat building in him with every step, the way his grip on you tightened slightly as he carried you toward your bedroom. The air shifted from playful tension to something hotter, heavier.
When he kicked the door shut behind him, it was like a switch flipped. He dropped you onto the bed. Not rough, but with enough force to bounce, enough to show he wasn’t playing anymore.
“Strip,” he said, pulling his shirt off over his head. “And lose the attitude while you’re at it.”
You propped yourself up on your elbows, still lying back on the bed. “You always give orders like that, Captain, or am I just special?”
Price dropped the shirt to the floor and stepped closer, towering over the edge of the bed with a look that landed somewhere between amused and done with your shit.
“You’re bloody special, alright,” he said dryly. “Special kind of difficult.”
Your grin widened.
He leaned in, one knee hitting the mattress as his hand firmly closed around your ankle. He dragged you toward the edge of the bed inch by inch, slow enough to make your heart pound. You bit your bottom lip trying to hold back the devious grin on your face, but it was a useless endeavor.
“I like a challenge,” he murmured, voice lower now, intimate. “Especially when they moan real sweet once I’ve shut ’em up.”
You started to open your mouth, some smart remark half-formed on your tongue, but he was already moving. He hooked his fingers into your waistband, yanking your bottoms down and off with practiced ease.
“Still got that attitude?” he asked, his voice soft now, too soft.
You nodded slowly, defiantly.
He just smiled.
“Good,” he said, spreading your legs and settling between them like he had all the time in the world. “Makes it more fun when I fuck it out of you.”
You went to snap something back, but the words fizzled the second his calloused hands slid up your thighs. One palm anchored your hip while the other pushed your shirt up inch by inch, baring your stomach to the cool air.
“Arms up,” he said simply.
His tone was calm, commanding, and it sent a surge of electricity straight through you. You hesitated just long enough for him to raise an eyebrow.
“Don’t make me ask again.”
You obeyed, slowly, lifting your arms as he peeled the shirt over your head and tossed it aside. The bra remained, a delicate, thin veil of black lace. The look in his eyes darkened when it was all that remained.
“Mm,” he hummed, fingers sliding under the straps, dragging them down your arms one at a time. “Almost a shame to take this off.”
He leaned forward, lips brushing the swell of your breast through the lace. Then, he reached behind you with one practiced flick of the wrist.
Click.
The clasp gave instantly, no fumbling, just ease. Control.
“There we go,” he muttered, dragging the straps the rest of the way down. He tossed it aside without looking, too focused on the way your nipples hardened under his gaze, the way you shifted under the weight of it.
“Don’t even think about runnin’ that mouth,” he muttered, hooking his fingers into your underwear.
You opened your mouth, another bratty quip forming, but then the fabric was gone. Dragged down your legs and tossed behind him. And then his hands were on your thighs again, firmer this time, pushing your knees apart like it was routine.
His voice was low and thick with something darker now. “Let’s see how long you can last.”
He dragged two fingers through your folds, slowly, deliberately, and barely dipping in. He didn’t look down or let his gaze leave yours. Didn’t need to.
“Wet already?” he murmured, thumb brushing against your clit just enough to tease. Now, he took a moment to look upon your dripping cunt and added, “And you’re still pretending you don’t need me.”
You squirmed, biting your lip. “You’re the one taking your sweet time, old man.”
His gaze snapped up. Steady. Lethal. Like a wolf who’d just decided how he was going to play with his food. His hand stilled, fingers just barely inside you.
“Right,” he said, as if making a decision.
Then, he pushed in. Two thick fingers, quick and deep, curling just enough to make your back arch. He set a pace immediately: firm, unrelenting, no mercy.
“You’ve got a smart mouth,” he grunted, watching your face, “but look at you now. Drippin’ all over my fuckin’ hand.”
Your breath hitched, a choked moan slipping past your lips. You reached for his wrist without thinking, fingers digging into his forearm like that might slow him down.
He didn’t slow. He leaned in, lips at your ear.
“Beg for it,” he whispered. “Beg me to make you come.”
You clenched around his fingers involuntarily, breath catching. He felt it. Of course he did. He bent down lower, his lips brushed the shell of your ear.
“Go on, sweetheart. You were so loud a minute ago.”
You swallowed hard. Bit your lip and shook your head.
“No?” he asked, voice dripping with mock sympathy. “Shame.”
And then his fingers slowed, still inside you, still curled just right, but his pace dropped to a lazy rhythm. His thumb circling your clit with barely enough pressure to keep you teetering. It was maddening. Close, but not enough.
“You can wait, then,” he said coolly, like it was a casual choice. “I’ve got all night.”
You whimpered, hips twitching. He didn’t move faster. Didn’t budge. His free hand came up and gripped your chin, tilting your face toward him until your eyes met his.
“You wanna come?” he asked, his voice low and dangerous.
You nodded quickly.
“Then ask me.”
“Please,” you breathed. “Fuck, please, John…”
“Please what?”
“Please make me come. I need it. Fuck, I need you.”
That was the switch.
His smile returned with a dark satisfaction. The hand between your legs snapped back to work. Fast. Precise. His fingers plunged into you, curling up, while his other hand went to your throbbing clit. His thumb pressed firm, relentless circles against it. You cried out, the heat building in a dizzying rush, all control ripped away like paper in a storm.
“That’s it, good girl,” he growled. “Just like that. Let me hear you.”
You clutched at the sheets, back arching, the orgasm tearing through you so hard you saw stars. And he didn’t stop, not right away. He worked you through it, dragging every last tremble out of your body, until you were gasping and twitching, his name somewhere between a sob and a moan on your lips.
The cool night air felt like a dream on your flush skin as you stepped outside onto the patio. A deep, full breath filled your lungs. Your exhale exploded forth in a cloud. The party inside was still going on, with or without you. And right now, you need to be without. Cold or not.
You stumbled, only for a step. How many drinks had it been? Three? Four? There were shots at one point too. Two? Three?
You grabbed the railing and stared out at the moonlit, snowy mountain ridge. You sighed as you leaned forward, your forearms resting lazily on the smooth wood. Even in your drunken state, this was truly the most beautiful view. A ski lodge retreat generously funded by the higher-ups felt like a well earned gift. It was a shame that such a beautiful view had to be enjoyed alone.
Thoughts of him rolled in. You couldn’t stop yourself. Brooding, guarded, and so many layers to pull back. Ghost was an enigma. One you desperately wanted to learn. His stare was magnetic and intense in a way that sent a chill down your spine. You dared to believe that you loved him.
He was at the party, clad in that black hoodie and those jeans that made his ass look good enough to bite. His mask, off. You nearly fainted at the sight of him. The people here were all familiar and dear to you both. Though, seeing his face was still a rare treat.
König even took off his mask to reveal a rugged handsomeness that had its own charm. Though both shared that tousled dirty blonde hair, in your heart, you couldn't help but see Ghost as the true victor between the two.
A rustle from your left pulled you out of your drooling delusions. You turned your head slightly to see the source. There he was. Sitting in a chair in a dark corner of the patio. The brooding Ghost. He wore that same black hoodie, his blonde hair catching the faint light that poured in from the lodge’s curtained windows.
You turned and smiled, your voice airy with delight and low with desire, “Hello.”
Nothing. A man of few words.
You pushed off the rail and sauntered over, doing your best to stay calm and upright. Your voice still held true with its sultry tone as you said, “You know, I’m glad I found you here.” You stopped a few feet away, averting your gaze as you fiddled with the hem of your jacket, “You’re not an easy man to read, but I started to think… maybe I wasn’t imagining it. The way you look at me. The way you always seem to be there when I need someone to have my back.”
His face was still covered in shadow as you looked up. Still not a word, but you could tell he was looking at you now. You continued on, the whiskey coursing through you was helping to ease your nerves, “So I’m saying it…I care about you. More than I should. More than I expected to. And I don’t know what you’ll do with that, but… there it is.”
Then, without thinking, you closed the distance and slipped onto his lap. Your arms draped around his neck, and when your lips found his, the world narrowed to that single, thrilling moment.
He froze, just for a beat. Then, he kissed you back, deeper this time, with a hunger that stole the air from your lungs. His hands settled on your waist. The warmth of him seeped into your skin, and a spark lit somewhere low in your core, growing with every second his mouth moved against yours.
He kissed like he meant it. Like he’d been waiting. There was a tenderness to it but underneath it, something smoldered. It was undeniable and all-consuming.
When you pulled away, your breath caught in your throat for a different reason. Instead of Ghost’s dark eyes staring back at you, a piercing blue set gazed into yours. König.
His big hand came up to cup your cheek. You couldn’t deny how good it felt to have his cold hand against your warm cheek. Then, his thumb brushed your bottom lip. His eyes flicked to it, and then back to meet your stunned gaze.
Finally, he spoke, his accent thick and his tone heavy with need, “I can’t deny that I have also wanted this, mein süße.”
In your drunken state, you weren’t sure what to do. König did though.
His lips collided with yours again and your mind went blank. He tasted warm and sweet, with the faint spice of cinnamon on his tongue. It made you lean further into the kiss. Opening yourself up. You wanted to taste more of him.
You were lost now. Lost in his touch as his hand slid into your hair. Lost to his warmth as he pulled you closer to him. Possessing you.
There was no stopping it now. The ice had broken and the avalanche fell. Your thoughts of Ghost were long gone, and replaced with the image of König. His imposing figure. Those broad shoulders. The icy stare of a wolf.
He wasn’t who you meant to kiss, but right now, his arms felt like home, and you weren’t ready to leave.
The rain continued to pour down outside the dimly lit cabin. The sky, dark and cold, a sharp contrast compared to the warmth of the fire that crackled in the hearth. Its light casting flickers of gold across the worn wood. Your bare legs rubbed against the rug that adorned the small room and you hummed in content pleasure.
Price sat on the floor, back against the seat of a leather armchair, one leg outstretched and the other bent to allow his forearm to rest on his knee. His glass of scotch held lazily in his fingers by the rim. You curled up between his legs, into his bare chest. Both your clothes, discarded and soaking wet, by the front door. Except Price was kind enough to offer you his hoodie. It was the only dry article of clothing to be found. The smell of cigars still clung to the fabric.
You gently snatched the glass from his hand and took a sip. Not your preference. Though, it did give you the illusion of warmth as the scotch spread through you. You swirled the liquid inside, captivated by how the flickering firelight danced upon the amber hues, enchanting you with its glow.
“Beautiful…” You said absentmindedly.
Price grabbed the glass and sat it on the side table next to the chair. You peered up at him with a half hearted pout. He tilted his head, eyes narrowed slightly, the way they always did when he was calculating something. His beard, still damp from the storm, framed a slow, knowing smile as his eyes held yours.
“You’re quiet tonight,” you murmured, your voice low, like the way you’d speak in a church or a dream you didn’t want to wake from.
“Just thinking how lucky I am,” he said. His voice was gravelly and low, softened only by the hint of affection behind it. “Not many get something like this.”
You smiled, reaching up to brush a finger along the curve of his cheek and temple, where the firelight danced in his eyes. “You say that like you haven’t earned it.”
He hummed quietly. Though, you weren’t sure whether it was in agreement or not, because his head dipped down to place a slow and soft kiss on your lips.
You let your fingers trail into his damp hair as the kiss deepened. The heat between you both rising. There was no rush in your movements, only a slow, reverent exploration, as if this moment was all that mattered, and there was nowhere else you'd rather be than right here.
Price’s hand cupped the back of your head as his other hand glided up from your thigh to your hip. His thumb skimmed the frayed edge on the hoodie. As though asking for permission. You brought your leg up closer, a silent plea.
He understood your unspoken desire. His hand roamed, stopping briefly to allow a small squeeze of your plush rear, before continuing up your back.
Your hands had their own exploring to do. One hand tangled in his hair, while the other pressed firmly into the strength of his chest. Your fingers lovingly weaved through the blanket of hair that adorned his torso.
His thumb drifted along the curve of your breast before his whole hand found it. That calloused thumb brushing over your nipple, elicited a small moan from your lips. Price smiled into your kiss. Pulling away by only a breath.
Your eyes fluttered open and the expression he wore was one of heavy lidded desire and quiet worship. As though you were a deity to be placed upon an altar.
“Beautiful…” He said on a breath, so quiet you almost didn’t hear it.
Adjusting your both, he lowered you onto the rug, your hair spilling out around you like ink in water as he said, “Let me take my time.”
With your back to the floor, he positioned himself between your legs. You could see the outline of his erection in his boxers from here and desperately wanted to reach out for it. To feel its heat in your palm. But then, he pulled the hoodie up. Revealing your stomach. His lips placed delicate kisses on of it. You arched your back and allowed him to push the fabric up further to reveal your breasts to the glow of the firelight.
His mouth found those with ease too. Slow and soft. As though he intended to kiss every inch of your skin in a show of worship.
Your hands gripped the fabric of the hoodie, bringing it to your mouth and biting down on it as his mouth found your hard and wanting nipple. He sucked and licked and nipped. All the while his hands roamed over your exposed flesh. One of them dipped between your legs and that thumb once again taunted you with its delicate touch. Skimming through your folds until it found your clit.
Your mouth released the fabric of the hoodie to let out a breathy sigh, his name fluttering off your lips like a prayer.
“That’s it…” Price said in between his ministrations of your breast, “Say my name like it's the only thing you know.”
He moved his hands up to completely remove the hoodie. Your body, now entirely bare for him. The fire crackled, a soft soundtrack to the way he stared at you with reverence, each movement unhurried, deliberate. His eyes never left yours, not even as he kissed his way lower, down through the valley of your breasts, over your ribs, pausing to savor every inch.
When he reached the apex of your thighs, his lips parted with anticipation, and then he vanished between your legs.
When his tongue slid through your folds you arched up with a soft gasp. Your hand tangled in his thick hair, the scratch of his beard drawing a sharp, delicious contrast to the warmth of his tongue.
He didn’t rush. No part of him ever did. He explored you slowly, as if he were learning you, memorizing every tremble and sigh.
His name left your mouth again, as though he were deity now. When his lips found your clit, your thighs reflexively clenched around his head. His musing never wavered.
You could barely keep her eyes open, watching the silhouette of his broad shoulders shifting with every movement, his grip firm around your thighs, holding you open, grounding you as you drifted into another plane of existence.
His rhythm was practiced and true. Increasing his momentum with every one of your whimpers until he found the right speed. The one that made both your hands grip his hair. The one that made your back arch and pushed stars into your vision.
A surge of pleasure spread out from your core washed over you. A high pitched cry escaped the back of your throat. Piercing through the night like a firework. You bucked your hips up and clenched around nothing, but Price kept you in place with his firm grip. He didn’t stop his tongue until you had shakingly come down from your high. His eyes, watching you from below like a predator.
Your hands released their grip on his hair and your back relaxed into the rug. Only then did Price pull himself from between your thighs. His forearms were braced on the floor and your legs were lazily hanging from his shoulders.
You glanced down at him and immediately covered your face at the sight of him, “Oh my god…your face…” You said with an embarrassed laugh.
He chuckled, “One of bliss I would imagine.”
You shook your head and peeked at him through your fingers, “No! Your beard…it’s…it's covered in, well…me.”
He laughed wholeheartedly and brought a hand up to wipe his chin. Where a slick and glossy sheen covered his beard.
“Well…” He said in a low baritone, “What a nice problem to have.”
You sat up on your forearms and stared at him as he licked his fingers clean, “Stop that.” You said with a click of your tongue.
He arched a brow at you, “Well, I need to clean it up somehow.”
You gave him a lopsided smile, that didn’t convey the scorn that you wanted, “Maybe you should shave your beard.”
He chuckled, low and menacing, “Not happening…but I think I can make a compromise by just shaving the chin.”
You threw your head back and laughed with your whole chest, “The great Captain Price is actually going to shave part of his beard off?”
Price adjusted himself and crawled up to meet your gaze head on. You stopped your laughs, and bit your bottom lip to fight back your unbridled smile.
“If it means I can taste your sweet cunt every night, then I would.”
Then, he kissed you with a deep and unfiltered passion. One that spoke again of that reverence. The taste of you still lingered on his lips. This time, nothing held you back. Your hand found his throbbing cock through the soft fabric of his boxers, drawn in by the gravity between you, by the promise of more. The moment settled around you both like a secret only the two of you would ever understand.
The room was dim, lit by soft golden rays from the sun peeking through the sheer curtains. You stirred, shifting slightly beneath the sheets. Your limbs tangled with König’s, your back pressed to his chest. Your bodies, still bare from the night before. You smiled when you felt the weight of his arm tighten around you. You noticed the subtle shift in his breathing, the press of his hand against the curve of your hip.
He was already awake.
You adjusted your head to look up at him. He was already gazing at you, lids heavy with sleep or desire. It was hard to tell.
“Guten Morgen…” König said, his voice low and rough.
His voice was thick with something darker. Something akin to wanting, deep and unfiltered. Your skin prickled under the sound of it. You bit your bottom lip and hummed softly as you stretched, deliberately arching just enough for your hips to press back into him. You felt him react instantly. The velvety soft skin of his hard cock rubbed between the cleft of your backside.
He didn’t wait for you to fully respond. He rolled you onto your stomach with practiced ease, large hands spreading across your lower back, pinning you there like he needed to feel the weight of you under him again. His mouth trailed down your spine and over your shoulders, a mixture of kisses and low groans, before he pulled your hips up and back.
You sighed happily as you moved up with his grip.
You braced herself on your forearms, your breath catching as König aligned the head of his cock at your weeping pussy. The first thrust was slow and deep, but there was nothing gentle about the grip of his hands on your waist. He set a pace that was intense. Each motion was rough, deliberate, and demanding.
Igniting a fervent symphony of moans and sighs.
You cried out, not from pain but from the sheer overwhelming sensation. Your fingers dug into the sheets. König leaned over you, his mouth hot against your ear, whispering praises in broken German and sloppy English.
Then, he came to a lazy stop, pulling out of you so slowly that it made you whine. Protesting the emptiness he left behind.
He chuckled deeply, “So needy…”
Then, he shifted you again, turning you to face him and lifted you up so you were straddling his lap. Now, his back pressed firmly against the headboard. Your knees on either side of his hips as he notched himself again to your soaking wet cunt.
You had a lovely view of his expression as he watched his cock pushing into you. His teeth biting his bottom lip as he groaned. His eyes, still heavy. You were no better. Your breath, leaving you in shuddered gasps as you seated yourself fully onto his hips.
His hands roamed over your body, palms rough against your thighs as they traced up your stomach and your back. His mouth found one of your breasts. His teeth kissing and nipping at the sensitive underside, then working up to your nipple.
You arched into his mouth. Nails scraping his scalp and grabbing his hair, pushing him further into your chest. Rocking your hips in a tantalizing slow way. Your clit throbbing as you dragged against him in long, languid strokes.
König groaned out, “Scheiße”
His forehead settled in the valley of your breasts as his hands went to the meat of your hips. Grabbing at them hard enough to hurt. You clenched around him involuntarily.Then, there was nothing slow about his movements. It was messy. Intense. Unapologetic.
One of your hands grabbed the headboard and the other made a feeble grasp at his shoulders as his hips slammed into yours. He continued his relentless barrage on your cunt. His pace never faulted. Soon enough, your legs shook with your release as your mouth opened wide on a soundless gasp.
With his face still buried in your chest, he stilled. His hands, still forcing your hips down. Keeping you in place as he spilled himself into you with a long, breathy groan.
You couldn’t help but go limp in his arms. Head lolling back as you failed to keep a solid grip on his sweaty shoulders. His hands slid up your back and he adjusted his legs to keep you upright.
König whispered, “So sehe ich Dich gerne." While kissing a trail up to your collarbone. His mouth opened wide to softly bite into your neck.
As you started to come back to reality, you heard him say, “Time for round two, mein liebling.”
This one's for the scenes with multiple characters, and you're not sure how to keep everyone involved.
Writing group scenes is chaos. Someone’s talking, someone’s interrupting, someone’s zoning out thinking about breadsticks. And if you’re not careful, half your cast fades into the background like NPCs in a video game. I used to struggle with this so much—my characters would just exist in the scene without actually affecting it. But here’s what I've learned and have started implementing:
✨ Give everyone a job in the scene ✨
Not their literal job—like, not everyone needs to be solving a crime or casting spells. I mean: Why are they in this moment? What’s their role in the conversation?
My favourite examples are:
The Driver: Moves the convo forward. They have an agenda, they’re pushing the action.
The Instigator: Pokes the bear. Asks the messy questions. Stirring the pot like a chef on a mission.
The Voice of Reason: "Guys, maybe we don’t commit arson today?"
The Distracted One: Completely in their own world. Tuning out, doodling on a napkin, thinking about their ex.
The Observer: Not saying much, but noticing everything. (Quiet characters still have presence!)
The Wild Card: Who knows what they’ll do? Certainly not them. Probably about to make things worse.
If a character has no function, they’ll disappear. Give them something—even if it’s just a side comment, a reaction, or stealing fries off someone’s plate. Keep them interesting, and your readers will stay interested too.
The folks at amazon customer service have no ability to correct this issue because it’s almost certainly an issue with how the SKU’s are entered in their catalogue. In other words the granola and the coasters probably are identified by the same SKU in the computer system as the boxes.
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