Love all of your 🧼 stories!! Wish i can read more hehe
From the Back 18+
Warnings: romance and everything that comes with it, smut *debby ryan ear tuck*
Notes: iM tHe AsS MaN thAtS mY cHArAcTEr 🦅
Soap said he had an obsession with doggy, but really he was just head over heels in love with your ass.
Soap was an opportunistic man with a thing for doggy. It was kind of a secret obsession, even though there was nothing secret about it with the way he was always slapping your ass.
Bending over a counter to scroll on your phone was a dangerous choice. It wasn’t his fault that you made it so tempting, walking around in those pretty little sleep shorts that always seemed to ride up with every step you took. It gave him the perfect chance to get a good look at the outline of your cunnie, and how was he supposed to resist cupping a palmful of your ass cheek every time he walked by?
If there was a flat surface, Johnny was planting a hand on your back and forcing your face down so he could pull your panties aside and eat it from behind— love feeling these feckin’ cheeks, hen— suffocating himself in your softness.
One of his favourite things to do was to get you when you were reading, forcing you to focus on your book while he pounded into you, each thrust sending you pitching forward a few centimetres, knocking whimpers out of your throat. It was times like that when he got his phone out, unlocking it with shaky hands to film the absolute beauty underneath him.
His eyes always got stuck on the way the pretty fuckin’ fat rippled when his hips kissed your skin. The movement of it was almost hypnotic to him, and there were many times when you looked over his shoulder, wondering why he’d gone quiet, only to find him staring at your soft flesh with blown out pupils and a little drool at the corner of his mouth.
your fics are so yummehh. can i request ex to enemies to lovers with ghost pretty please?
Fuck you? Fuck Me! 18+
Warnings: romance and everything that comes with it, oh god.. it’s smut with feelings 😩mentions of cheating 😡😡
Notes: I’m actually so sorry this took so long I’m a lazy bitch 😀
"Oh, you know what? Fuck you, Simon."
Slamming the door behind you and stomping down the hall of Simon's apartment building, you bit back the tears, ignoring the looks from the doorman you'd made friends with after many late nights of Simon coaxing you into his bed
That was two years ago now.
You'd moved on, really you had. It had taken probably around 100 shots of vodka during the first few months, the sour, offending taste forcing you to focus on the burn in your throat rather than the burn in your chest. A shitty bullet vibrator, sitting offendingly in your beside drawer, the hot pink piece of plastic and motorized pleasure offering you partial relief when you missed the feeling of your boyfriend— ex-boyfriend— splitting you open on his cock.
You'd gotten over Simon, filling your days with friends, family, the dead-end receptionist job where the coffee was stale and the small-talk was frightning. The pit he left in your chest was stuffed with whatever you could find, and slowly, after many sleepless nights, you forgot it was there at all.
Slamming back the strawberry daiquiri, you let the liquid warm your throat, the sugary-sweet taste making your toes curl and your lips draw into a cheshire like grin. The music was pounding in your ears, and you were sure your head would be ringing when you stumbled your way out onto the pavement.
"Y'still drink those?"
Heart stuttering in your chest, the air suddenly buzzing with a familiar presence you recognized so well.
“Simon.” Short, curt, you offered little to the man who had taken so much of you.
When he’d left you to fend for yourself on so many quiet nights, the flat empty as he went and fought in some country that wasn’t his, there was no worry in his mind about having something to come home to.
You could handle it. You told him you could handle it.
Eyes hardened by violence, hands toughened by the hours of holding a gun and not another person. He didn’t notice. You were always there. Ready to greet him with a smile and a kiss on the cheek.
“Y’look different, luv. I.. Y’look good.” Tartness filled his mouth, his bottom lip between his teeth where it was hidden underneath his mask.
Simon didn’t know how to take care of his things, much less his girl. One night at the bar turned to to two, and his returns got later and later in the wee hours of the morning. He shouldn’t have been shocked enough to feel his stomach churn when you suggested that he was cheating on you.
But that was two years ago.
A mirthless laugh sounded from your lips. “I’m not doing this.”
Fuckin’ stubborn thing.
The crowd of the club parted as Simon stalked after you, a looming figure of anger and bitter frustration that sent lesser men scurrying in the other direction. It was a wonder the door didn’t fly off the hinges when he followed you outside. But, Simon could be careful. He could be patient. Even if the only thing he wanted to do was push you up against the alley wall and-
“Could you just leave me alone?” That was more pathetic sounding that you’d wanted, your face screwing up in displeasure at the way your voice came out warbled.
A frown pulled at his lips, hidden underneath the fabric of his black surgical mask.
“Didn’t cheat on ya, luvie.”
He just had to touch you. If he could just touch you, fuck, even get you to look at him, you would see. He would make you see. But you were all teeth, hissing and snapping at him when he tried to reach out and grab at your wrist— keep fighting, puppy— shying away from his touch like it burnt you.
“Could y’just calm down?” Shackled, arms pinned at your side, he kept you in place. “I’d never fuckin’ look a’ another bird, yeah?”
He nearly bit his tongue off when your gaze fell to the ground again, looking all dejected like a kitten abandoned out on the curb. He had left you alone too long, hadn’t he?
“Simon, I’m not-” You hated how easy it was to let your neck go lax, to let him guide your vision upwards until there was nothing in your sight but him.
Yeah, that’s it. Stop fightin’ so hard. “God, dove, look at ya.” He cooed, relishing in the way your pretty doe eyes stared up at him hesitantly, like you were waiting for him to bite. “How could I cheat on a pretty thing like you, huh?”
No, no god, it was so easy for him to get his hooks in you again, rough hands touching your skin like his palms could reach in and cradle your heart.
“Two years, Simon. Two years.” You hissed. “God, you were never around.”
“I know, sweetheart. I know. But I-”
“No!” Twisting your wrists out of his grip, you launched your attack, fists hitting against a chest that didn’t bow under the weight of your fury. “You were never around! Never gave me a second of your time even when you were there!”
People were staring now, hushed whispers swarming around you in a torrent. A spectacle of a girl barking up at a man twice her size. Some lady stumbling by offered her own intoxicated words of encouragement— get him, gurl!
Simon let you get it all out. He deserved it, really. He didn’t fight as you pounded your fists down on his chest, beating your anger over his heart. You were talking, hell, you were touching him, and that was more than he’d expected given how he’d driven you away. Darker eyes stared down at your flushed cheeks, rosy from the alcohol and the anger.
“You didn’t want me. You d-didn’t give a shit and you know it!”
But his heart clenched when his saw the tears flowing down them, moving more than it had in two years.
What was that thing Price told him?
You don’t take care of your things, Simon, they’re gonna break eventually.
That’s what it was, the heaviness in your eyes, the way your voice seemed hollow even as you screamed loud enough for the next street over to hear. It clawed at him, guilt twisting deeper and deeper with every curse you threw. This wasn’t the girl he drove away. But then again, he wasn’t the same man, purposely blind to anything good around him.
Simon had tried to replace you at first. Hours spent at the range, hours spent sparring and earning new scars, his knuckles cracked from over use. Time should’ve fixed it, but even as he gave the punching bags a break the blood on his hands didn’t stop. A scab he couldn’t stop picking at, the sting of his self-injury the only thing he could do to remind him that his bed wasn’t empty once.
“I never meant ta hurt ya, luv.” His own regret was threatening to spill over his waterline. “Should’a taken better care o’ya, yeah?” You shook your head vehemently at his coos, as if you could will everything that was happening to disappear.
“Could never leave ya, pretty girl.” In any other moment, Simon would’ve been appalled at the teary tone to his voice, but right now he was more concerned with how the love of his life had gone quiet, eyes glued to the pavement.
“I love ya, sweetheart.”
If you would just look at him to see how he meant it. Just look at him, dovie, just look.
“M’in love with ya. Could never ‘ave anyone else.” He was pleading now, just about ready to get down on his knees in the middle of the sidewalk. “Didn’t know how to.. to show it, yeah? Never done this before. Never loved anyone before.”
“Simon, if you’re lying to me..” You began, breath hitching when he took your eye contact as invitation you hold your face in his hands.
There she is.
“Never.” He swore fiercely. “Never cheated on ya, baby. Haven’t touched a girl since y’left.”
The confession made you falter. The Simon shaped hole in your chest searing with need. The desperation in his eyes, it didn’t even compare to how you felt, and you realized that everything you filled it with was only temporary. You needed permanence. You needed Simon.
It didn’t matter how you fell back into bed with him, stumbling through his apartment while he pawed all over you, keeping a hand on you like he was afraid you’d disappear. In the few seconds you had before he corralled you into his bedroom, you got a chance to see how little he’d changed. The apartment was bare, the spaces on the shelves where your things once sat had been left empty, like some sort of twisted altar he was afraid to fill.
You’d missed him. And he knew it.
There was no time wasted in the moments it took Simon to get you bare, his own clothes discarded in a pathetically short amount of time before his was diving into your pussy.
“S-Simon!”
He couldn’t slow down. After so many nights spent fucking into his own hand, the pair of panties he’d secretly kept pressed to his nose, he needed the real thing.
Like a man starved, he lapped at your cunt, the flat of his tongue lapping against your clit in just the way you liked— because of course he remembered— getting you to soak his face. The taste of you made his eyes flutter shut and groan obscenely into your pussy, the vibration making your thighs start to close.
Digging his fingers into your soft flesh, he parted your legs open so he could get nose deep, trying to bury himself in you. The slick seemed to drip out of you, making it easy to curl two of his fingers into your leaking cunt. The sudden intrusion had you keening, blindly reaching out to grasp at Simon’s hair. It had been so long since someone touched you right.
“S’that how ya need it, mama?” He crooned, voice garbled as he swirled his tongue in fast circles, your clit pulsing in his mouth. “Didn’t ’ave anyone ta fuck her like she needs, huh?” The taunt held no real heat as he curved his fingers inside of you, searching for that spot that got you to make the most delicious noises.
“Uh-huh!” You could almost feel the way he was grinning into your cunt. “Needed you, Si.”
Humming in approval, Simon pumped his fingers in you with a speed you had tried, and failed, to replicate alone in your bed late at night. It didn’t take long for the pleasure to start bubbling to an overwhelming point, leaving you teetering on the edge, like a pot left unattended on a stove.
Sucking hard on your clit was all it took, and suddenly you were gushing all over Simon’s face, back arching with a broken cry. He took it all, lapping it up like it was the sweetest nectar all while crooning praises at you, making your head fuzzy.
There was a sense of urgency in the sex-scented air, his once steady hands shaking as he sat up on his heels, eyes half lidded and drunk with desire.
“You can touch me, Simon.”
Parched, he licked his lips, savouring the taste of you lingering on his tongue while he lined his heavy cock up to your pussy. He could’ve cum just by running his head up and down your folds, but he resisted the temptation.
He had to take care of his girl first.
The stretch was intense, your body trying to cope with acclimating to the girth of Simon after having so many lovers who couldn’t give you what you needed. Your limbs tensed, hands threading themselves into Simon’s hair, trying to pull him closer, closer.
“Just relax, sweethear’. You can- fuck, you can take me.” His hips met yours and he slotted himself where he should’ve been this whole time. Home. Your body cradling him exactly how it was supposed to. “Just need someone ta fuck ya proper, huh?”
He was dangerously close to coming, rutting into you with uneven, eager strokes that left you gasping, heels digging into his ass as you wrapped your legs around him. You were no better, eyes rolling back in your head every time the head of his throbbing cock kissed your cervix, little punched out moans being torn from your throat.
“M’sorry-”
He managed a garbled moan. “Shh, none o’ that, ya hear me?” You were so good, apologizing for the mess he’d made.
Barely hanging on by a thread, Simon rested his forehead on yours.
“Love of my life, dovie.” His hands were brushing the hair out of your face, and the sheer reverence in his eyes knocked the wind out of you. Mewling, you kissed messily at his jaw, hungry, trying to show him how much you felt for him when you were too fucked out to talk.
“Si-” Heat seared in your belly. “M’gonna- oh, god, m’cumming, I-”
Toes curling, you watched the world explode from behind your eyelids, barely registering the choked words Simon was babbling in your ear as he spilled himself inside you with a drawn out groan.
“I love ya. Love ya, love ya, love ya.”
In the quiet of his bedroom, both of you panting and emotionally spent, you knew you were exactly where you were supposed to be.
why would Johnny have thanksgiving in the first place he’s scottish?! 😀
This might come as a shocker to you?! 😀 but I can in fact decide to include whatever I want in my writing. Also I’m literally Scottish Irish and have thanksgiving
Warnings: romance and everything that comes with it, smut teehee I was just in a silly goofy gal mood today omg ! 🤪
Notes: johnny could stuff my turkey any day-
Something about seeing you all red cheeked and busy with your hair tied up, apron tied around your waist as you stirred over a pot on the stove.
Johnny hadn’t had a real thanksgiving since his mammy died a few years back. His siblings were too spread out, one sister in university, his other brothers off making a life for themselves, walking through parks and going to coffee shops or whatever people did.
And then there you were. Little lamb all rosy and plump, making such good meals for him, soothing his aches when he came home— let me get you a cup of tea, Johnny! Just sit down, kay? All soft, soft, soft.
Look at you, cooking a nice thanksgiving meal for him, huh? Working so hard. With an impish grin, he curled his body around yours, pulling you away from the stove by your hips.
“Johnny, I was-”
Tsk, tsk. “Y’can wait can’t ye, lass?”
Who cared about the turkey when had you sprawled out on the plush carpet, stuffing into you instead? The cum he wrung out of you, frothy and slick around the base of his cock, two of his fingers found their way into your mouth.
Peaking, the pleasure sizzled across your skin. “Can’t, can’t- f-fuck, too much.. S’too much!” Johnny crooned in your ear, mumbling praises. “I ken, I ken, cannae stop, hen. Look a’ you, so tight.”
Hips snapping into yours, jolting your body forwards by a few centimetres every time his cock hit the plug of your cervix. Ingraining his marks onto your heart.
Warnings: romance and everything that comes with it, primal play of you squint like really hard like you need glasses??
Notes: welcome to my cough syrup induced roman empire, there are no survivors (including my lungs) 🔥💯💯😎😎🐺🐺
The leaves crunched under you feet as you let the forest whip by you in a blurry array of yellows of reds.
“M’gonna eat you alive, bunny.”
Saccharine, and tauntingly so. The words curled in the flesh of your tummy, hooking themselves there with a permanent indent as they sunk their teeth into you. Simon Riley was an easy man to be distracted by.
Heat in your cheeks fought back against the biting air, the blood rushing under them as evidence of your misbehaviour. There was no running in the forest, not when your legs solidified with the cold of the lowering sun. Not when he knew every path.
It had been so easy to slip away, too easy, Simon wasn’t a man who couldn’t admit to a mistake. No, he should have kept a closer eye on such a wily thing like you, all soft flesh and warmth. But you had been so good lately, stopping your yipping and hissed words, staying with him over the winter. Taking his cock so sweetly— please, please, put it in me, Si— Course he’d buy you some new tools for the garden, luvie.
So pretty in your little yellow sundress, fiddling with the head of the water hose. Made Simon have to fuck you right there in the flowerbed, huh? Don’t worry ‘bout the dirt, dove.
He should have known you’d run. Left the front gate open, knowing you’d like to wander. An oversight. Oh, you wandered. Having to chase his pretty girl back where she belonged so soon was a sting to his brambly thoughts, a sense of ownership colouring his imagination every time you came into view.
But it was all the same in the end. Dirt under the fingernails. Silence in the forest being ripped open by two bodies colliding in a heap of furious belonging. The fighting fizzled away as quickly as it came.
There would be no arguments when he carried you back to his your cottage, and he’d scrub the soil from your hands in the sink later.
The windows of your room had gone foggy, the freezing rain outside fighting with the steamy, sweat scented air permeating the space.
Cooing at you, Jason spat down on your pussy, letting the makeshift lube drip down your already slick folds. With a wicked chuckle, his rough palm offered a few slaps to your core, eyes gleaming when he saw the way your hole fluttered and clenched around nothing. There was nothing kind aobut the way he manhandled you to your hands and knees, pulling your head down till you were nose deep into his pelvis and choking on his cock.
But that's what this was all about, wasn't it?
"Fuck my throat, Jay." You pleaded breathily. "C'mon, baby. Make me choke on it."
The broken groan that left Jason's mouth made your toes curl, punched-out, sweltering heat licking at your tummy. Without warning, he pitched forward, his heavy cock pulsing in your throat. "Gonna cum."
"Gonna cum down this pretty fuckin' throat." God, you felt so good, mouth warm and wet around him. The little kitten licks you volunteered traded in for the sound of you gagging around him as fucked into your throat with jerky, uneven strokes.
How could he help himself when you made such pretty noises? Jay's eyes stayed fixed on your face, his mouth hung open as he panted like a mut, watching the way your mascara ran down your cheeks, so fucking pretty when you cried.
"Yeah, rub- oh, fuck, rub that clit, mama." Making his abs tense, you moaned around his cock. "So pretty. That's it, make y'self feel good when I- yeah, yeah- cum down this throat."
Clouded by how sweet you look staring up at him with your mouth stuffed full, he pinched your nose, the panicked whine you let out building the electric pleasure until he was cumming, cumming, cu-
"Fuck, fuck, fuck, shit, mama-"
The taste of Jason filled your mouth and you head was pulled forward again, nose buried deep into his skin.
"S-Swallow." You tried to mewl out a plea. "I said swallow, yeah.. that's it. Good girl, good fuckin' girl. So pretty, mama."
Oooh child I needed this today 😭😭🥹 my brain is like FRIED.
Hmm I’d have to say either price or ghost, mostly cuz I like men who are like 3 times the size of me 🤭 and also, have you heard their voices 😩 skdbfjsksksnsjsjdjd
Thank you for the ask pookie!!! Remember you are loved babes 💖💖💖💖😎
Warnings: romance and every that comes with it, SMUT SMUTTY SMUT, daddy kink
Notes: you know who you are babes 💕💖
Your initial meeting with John Price had been embarrasing. A broken heel and a sewer grate in front of a military base didn't exactly make the best combination. But he had been a gentleman.
The offending shoe had been rescued and you left with a number and a new contact in your phone, one that he'd insisted on creating himself. One date turned to two, and soon you found yourself moving in with him months later. Domestic bliss was a good way to put it.
Still, even after 8 months, there was a lingering voice in the back of your head. Bitter, cruel, it spoke to you in whispers as you laid in bed, watching John’s sleeping face. It churned in the back of your mind, stirring that old, sour feeling you'd tried to contain in the corner of your brain. No matter how many times John consoled you, murmuring praises in your ear, worshipping your soft heart and soft body, the scab on your old insecurities remained.
And you couldn't help but pick at it.
Call it self-sabotage, but you curled in on yourself anytime you saw what you thought was a better, prettier version of you. Despite the glares John would send to the bubbly young waitresses who batted their eyes at him, you couldn't help but wonder why his arm was around you. Why did he stay with you?
He saw the doubt in your eyes, but he loved you. And he would prove it over and over again.
“Luv, I tell you every time. Get whatever y’want.”
Staring down at the menu, your eyes darted from the salad to the bacon slathered burger you wanted to order. The perky waitress stared down at you, an impatient grin plastered on her face. She twirled her hair, eying John while she kept tap, tap, tapping her stupid pen on her note pad.
"I'd like a-"
"We have really great salads, you know."
Fucking bitch.
"No, I think I'll take the-" The blonde ignored you as you opened your mouth, chattering on. "Just cause, you know.. you look like you could use it." She smiled.
John's gaze flickered up at that, a glower on his face. Suddenly, the menu was no longer very interesting.
"She'll have the fuckin' burger." The waitress paled, his harsh tone standing out in the air of the fancy restaurant.
"You'd know tha' if you actually let her fuckin' speak."
John saw it in the way that you carried yourself. The tight-lipped smile that you so often wore, expecting to fade into the shadows, unseen and unobserved. So he made sure to keep you in his sights at all times.
He was used to having eyes on him, year after year being the one people looked up to, the person people sought out if there was a problem. He was used to being seen. And he was comfortable with it, more comfortable than you could ever be. John saw the way you shrank yourself, wanting to rip his hair out any time somebody made you feel smaller. You were something made to be worshipped. People would be singing praises and scraping their knees in reverence if he had any say.
But you'd kill him if he put you in the spotlight.
The jangling of the doorknob had his head snapping up. Almost dropping the dishtowel he was holding into the frying pan, he scrambled over to the door.
His cock stirred in his pants at the sight of you. Messy hair, messy eyes, messy face. Your water bottle, keys, wallet, and scrunchie all held precariously in one had. God, he could forget the whole dinner and just take you then and there in the hallway of your apartment building. It certainly wouldn't be the first time he'd tried. Huffing out a breath, the thought was shaken from his head. Later.
Later.
"John?" The cute, bashful grin he was sporting let you know he was up to no good. "What's going on?"
Purse taken and set aside, your coat followed suit as his large hands guided you by the hips into the living room. Flickering candlelight painted the walls, a spread straight out of a Martha Stewart catalogue decorated the table.
"Thought I'd give you a little suprise, luv."
John held his breath. Was it too much? Should he have gotten a strawberry cake instead of chocolate? Did you still like red wine? Maybe it was too much. He could put it all away and just set up a movie. He could-
"You did all this for me?"
"I.. yeah, luvie." Your voice cracking had his heart squeezing in alarm, but the curl of your lip made him feel a little better about putting a foot wrong. "Is.. s'that okay?" Tentative. Unsure of himself for the first time in his life. He would let you take the lead, decide how much of yourself you wanted to bare to him.
"Tha's it." John crooned. "Cum f'me one more time, birdie."
He'd said just one more two orgasms ago. Tumbling into bed had been a very good, and bad idea. Now he was splitting you open with his fingers, scissoring them inside of you with an expert touch. The sheets had long been soaked with your sweetness, the sight of you breathless and drooling permanently ingrained in John's brain.
Curling his thick fingers to hit that delicious spot that had you squealing, John revelled in the sounds you were making, groaning out his own pleasure as he watched you fall apart all over again.
You couldn't think, couldn't breathe. Vaguely, in some all too cognizant part of your mind, you recall begging John to let you take care of him. The plea had been shot down so fast you wondered if you'd gotten a syllable out before he was nose deep in your pussy, eating you out like his very life depended on it. That seemed like forever ago.
"Where y'goin, hmm, sweet girl?" You blinked up at John, trying to focus through the searing pleasure. "You still with me?"
"Yeah."
Taking that as confirmation enough, Price wrapped his hands around the softness of your thighs, lifting them up and pressing them back so your knees were beside your ears. His eyes softened, one of his hands coming to cup your cheek, his thumb stroking just under the curls of your eyelashes.
"Gonna make y'feel good now, okay, little one?"
Slowly, torturously, John split you open with his cock. Inch by inch, he bullied his way in, your walls clenching and fluttering around him like you were made to take his girth. Hushing your hissed whimpers, his lips left a lingering kiss to your forehead. And then he was pitching foreward without warning.
"J-John-"
All of him, right to the back of you so you could feel him in your throat. His eyes were glued to where your already cutely plush stomach rounded from the size of him. Pupils blown out, he reached down to touched where your tummy bulged with each thrust. Rushing into his head like a runaway train, the thought of making you plump and round with his baby had his hips stuttering.
'No, not John, sweetie." Heavy balls slapped your skin, John leaning foreward you nip at your neck. "Y'know my name."
Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck-
"Daddy, p-please."
"Gonna make you a mama, huh?" A rough finger circled your clit.
"Gonna fill you up nice an' round with my kids." His head was spinnning.
"Fuckin' breed you-" John's cock twitched inside of you, his jaw hanging open as he panted in your ear.
"Cum in me." You squealed. "Cum in me, daddy! Please-"
Snap.
Growling out a curse, John's cock slammed into you with a pace so brutal, so deep you thought you might just pass out. His hands pushed your thighs down further, streching you, molding you into the perfect position to take his cum.
"Cum on this cock, baby." The blooming heat in your cunt grew to an inferno. "Cum 'round daddy's cock."
His hand tangled in your hair as you pulsed around him, screaming and twitching as he worked you through the most mind-melting orgasm of your life. Toes curling, your eyes rolled back and you squirted all over his abs, wetness coating him like a permanent brand. The tip of his cock kissed your cervix, cum pumping into your pretty pussy.
Breathless as he pulled you to his chest, he knew he would do anything to keep you like this. Safe. Sure. There would never be a day where you were worrying about being secure in your life, in yourself, not if he could make sure of it.
Warnings: romance and everything that comes with it, very slight smut at the end 🚨
Notes: blah blah blah, my man my man my man 🫠
Jason holds your hand whenever he sees yours shake.
Any time you go to order at a restaurant, the words coming out stuttered and wobbly as you try to tell the waiter what you want, his hand finds yours. Rough callouses holding your softer skin under the table, his thumb rubbing the back of your hand.
"You got this, princess."
Visiting his family at Bruce’s mansion (he insisted you call him Bruce) was no different. You sat through the fancy dinner, listening to Jason’s brothers try and tell you as many embarrassing stories as they could. He’d squeeze your hand when you laughed.
Then in the quiet, and not so quiet, moments in your bedroom. Jay’s body over yours, his eyes trained on your blissed out face as he rocked his hips into you. “Good girl. Good girl, mama.” Anchoring you, keeping you from drifting off on whatever cloud of pleasure he was creating, his hand in yours to remind you he was there.
