You gaze out into the foggy city, taking in the remnants of what it once was, curiosity fleeting your mind of what a monumental place this once had been— you stumbled here, feet snagging on ruined land, knees bruised and hands scraped from your clumsiness. You didn't know what this place was or why your feet guided you here. With labored breathing and a shaky figure, you were just here, the cold winds swirling around your form.
“You came,” the words were guttural, grovely, and low but abundant. There was vice in the tone, “he prophesied it. I believed him.” your eyes squinted, searching through the fog as everything meekly blended, “I strayed not, oh,” the last note came out breathy, relieved “I'm glad I had not cast his stones away.”
Then you saw him, eyes straining to see through the thick perspiration, the metal clanking softly, echoing in the silence. His armored-covered body pushed through the fog, wisps of the condensed air caressing his form as he stepped into visibility. His mass visible, he was massive and beautiful. You would say.
Even in tattered armor, he walked forward as if diamonds and gold had shielded him. The crown on his head rusting, heavily, yet the royalty that honored him never dulled. For who he was and not what he adorned, made him King.
“He said my Queen would show.” his voice low and velvety, “she has shown herself at once.”
soap or ghost comforting their partners “terribly aching” stomachache
PLEASE MINE HURTS RN
-🦎🌸
Why was my stomach hurting too?! I hope your tummy feels better🫶🏽🥺 Also, I'm feeling Simon a lil bit today, might drop a part two to this just for soap👀
"I told y'not to eat all that shit love," Simon sighs, his breath fanning the wisps of hair that obnoxiously frayed from the scrunchie you piled your hair into, "y'know what it does to you." his reprimanding is soft, even through his gruff voice you can tell he means well.
Your head lays just under his chin, nose tucked into his attire as you let his scent waft around you, "it was s'good," he could feel the pout forming on your lips as you pressed your face deeper into his chest, "why bring it if I can't eat it?!" your tone accusing, yet you stay close. Letting puffs of air push through those pouty lips as you bask in his rugged hands thrumming against your aching stomach.
"so it's my fault?" Simon chortles while kneading the achy pudge, "You ate almost all the chocolate love. not good f'you." Your behavior was comical to him, you were so stubborn but so earnest for affection as if it was an act of retribution.
You nudge your head up so your chin rests on his hardened chest instead, eyes narrowing as your eyes connect, " are you judging me?"
"no, never that," he says but you see the tilt to the corner of his lips and hear the amusement ringing in his voice, "just worried f'you. always worried f'you." a kiss to your hairline following his declaration, His words are sincere, they always were.
You were ready to reply, probably to snark at him but you couldn't, I mean what would you say back to him? Banter was almost impossible at his swoon worthy sentiments accompanied by his warm hand caressing the pain away nearly as if his touch was medicine itself.
Hiii! I was wondering if you could do a short lil number about himbo!soap (love that beautiful idiot) and a reader who just got waxed, cue johnny boy💕 not understanding they can’t do the deed right off (or for a whole day depending on how much of a stickler reader is hehe)… I just keep hearing that adorable oaf going “wahdaya meeeaaan off-limits bonnie ☹️”
thank you for your fics, love love them 🫶🏻
- 💐
🥺thank you for loving my fics!!! Sorry for the delay🩵
Himbo!Soap who is especially affectionate, preferring to stay under you or over you at any chance given.
Himbo!Soap who is joyous to see you when you return from your wax appointment, ready to ceaselessly showcase his devotion to you
Himbo!Soap who's brows furrow and head tilts as you explain the aftercare when it comes to waxing when his hands wander to places they shouldn't.
Himbo!Soap who pouts at you when it finally clicks that he can't love on you like usual, defiantly snuggling his body against yours "Johnny no!" you persist, giggling at his antics. Trying your best to abide by the regulations as well, not that he makes it easy with his handsome face so twisted up with distress.
Himbo!Soap who whines back "What d'ya mean?!" Dragging out the words while clinging to you, "off limits, bonnie why?!" he says while caressing your back and neck as he cuddles you.
Himbo!Soap who finally settles down when you break it down for him once again speaking slowly, making sure he grasped onto the importance of it all, begrudgingly so, "not fair," he chides, nestling his face into your neck with a huff, eliciting a laugh from you at his comical behavior.
Simon sighs, his left hand coming up to press against his anguish ridden face. He had just gotten off the phone with work and it was expressed that they needed him there earlier than his allotted time.
He knew you wouldn't take the news well, early mornings were your favorite time to spend with him. Simon wasn't an early bird like you even though his profession called for punctuality. He loved the bed you'd share, snuggling up to you till his alarm shrieked through the master bedroom, every so often tempting him to throw it afar without care. Nevertheless, he knew what mornings meant to you. There was always a reason why he dragged himself out of bed an hour, almost two before he had to leave the house. There was an obligation, one where he had to sit at the round oak table with you perched on his lap, your surroundings smothered in the scent of the steaming cooked breakfast and freshly brewed tea you prepared, faithfully.
"fuck me," he groans, dragging himself around the spacious bedroom, begrudgingly getting ready for the day, "s'gonna be so mad."
Simon could hear the faint pitter-patter of your feet as you danced around the kitchen, fretting over what you should cook today for the both of you.
"Baby!" You call out, looking through the ingredients, "Pancakes and bacon? How bout it?" The thought was a bit mouthwatering, there weren't many things at the moment better to you than some syrup-covered buttermilk pancakes and crispy bacon.
"y'know I'm fine with it." Simon calls back, fastening his attire promptly, "Everything you make is delicious." His attempt to butter you up.
Which doesn't fall flat— you soak it up as if you were just like the pancakes you were preparing, dubious as ever to what was in store for your morning. You noted that the tone of his voice was preppier, more awake than usual. You briefly questioned why he even was fully awake, seeing as you were usually the one to drag him out of bed in the morning. Literally.
Simon, still dwelling in the bedroom, shakes his head, stumped on how to go about this, in a way wanting to just slide out of the front door and ultimately deal with the consequences later but that'd be too rude. Too disrespectful.
"Love," Simon calls out to you, the combat boots strapped to his feet sounding thunderous as he finally rounds the corner into the quaint ivory plastered kitchen.
"yes," you sing, your mouth upturns into a small smile, "I'm actually almost done. I had already made the dry mix, remember before that recipe I found, I just had to add the eggs and but-" Your sentence falters as you gaze up at Simon, eyes going up and down taking in his wear, you weren't a fool and picked up on the circumstances quickly.
The pout that pulled your lips down was instantaneous. "No."
Simon steps towards you, "I know love, they just called me. There s'nothing I could do. I'm sorry."
"mornings are for us." You whine— you didn't want him to go. You wanted to finish cooking and take your rightful seat in his lap while you fed both of you breakfast. You wanted his heavy head to lay on your shoulder, leaning up occasionally to nibble on the bites of food that you pressed to his lips. You wanted his muscular arms to wrap around you, holding you tight against his broad frame as you babbled about any and everything. You wanted that every morning and wouldn't be subjected to change.
"I know," Simon repeats, attempting to move closer to you but the attempt was futile. You blew air into your cheeks, slightly puffing them as you turned back to the stove. "the food." you grumble.
Yes, you knew what Simon's job consisted of, you knew that it required of him to be available at times, even if they were inconvenient. Were you being unreasonable? Slightly. Could you see through your heedlessness? Not at the moment. You couldn't help but feel wronged like this was to spite you.
The silence lingered for some time until you broke it, "when do you have to leave?" you reluctantly ask, absentmindedly tapping the fluffy pancakes with your spatula.
"got'to be there by 6," Simon glances down at his wristwatch, "I should be out the door in the next 15 minutes." His gaze was swift to shift back to you, perturbed by your behavior.
Your shoulders hump, movements becoming a tad more aggressive, "Well guess I have to hurry." The comment is not as endearing as it seemed, there was a snarky nuance to it.
Simon wasn't oblivious to your attitude, he knew the little backhand comment was supposed to be a jab at him but the animosity didn't resonate. He found the slightest of amusement with your current demeanor. The almost undetectable smirk was amiss from your view since your back was to him. He found your displeasure the least bit adorable. Anger wasn't a reoccurring emotion for you, there was no familiarity but when you did encounter it, it could be misplaced at times.
You were upset and it showed easily; it was evident in your expressions, fluid in your movements. Regardless of how you felt, you still packed the heaping breakfast in his sack, and bottled up his piping hot tea, momentarily wishing for him to burn his tongue later on, before pushing his belongings into his hardened chest.
Your hands momentarily brushed against his pecs, recoiling from the touch as if he'd burnt you, dramatics in full effect until your wrists were clasped in one of his large worn hands, reeling you back into him.
"I'll be back," he reassures, looking down at you even though you refused to look up at him, " y'know this." His declaration falls on deaf ears, yet still, he pushes forward, inching his lips closer to your forehead to leave his standard kiss, "I always come back to you." He whispers, lips almost flush with your skin.
Before he can, you pull away, an action that shocks you both. It was unfamiliar to you both, upsetting in many ways but no more than the other.
"stop being a brat," Simon says, his eyes now hard, glaring "You've been playing this little game for too long. Enough." His gaze is unwavering as he once again inclines towards you, his pace treacherous, but to his displeasure you still deny his affection, pulling away from him, prompting him to snag your chin between his fingers, now forcing the eye contact.
"Keep on, y'know this is a game I can play really well."
Later that day...
"feels s'good," your voice whines, breath hitching ever so often from the stimulation Simon gave you. Your head is fuzzy from his calculated touches, eyes unfocused from the momentous pleasure, "m'gonna cum."
"like hell you are," he reproves, "keep those legs up."
Simon's right hand latches on to your thigh, applying a bit of pressure as he nestles between them. He fists his angry cock in his other hand, purposefully nudging your clothed cunt in the process. His movements were harsh, self seeking, paying no mind to your throbbing pussy as it drooled through the thin fabric of cloth that separated your bare flesh from his.
"brats like you don't get to cum." He condemns, his voice laced in the disappointment he felt, "don't deserve t'cum."
Your thighs trembled under his hold, "I do, I do." you cry, chest rapidly rising as the knot in the pit of your stomach grows, begging to be undone. He was ruining you, he was showing you why certain games were too dangerous to play.
"but you don't," he grunts, he fucks his palm faster, crowning your aching clit. The hand that was on your thigh plants you, knowing as you try to roll your hips and meet the thrusts of his cock.
"please! please! Si!" You beg, tears threatening to fall, "mmm fuck-" His bottom lip slips between his teeth, he blatantly ignores your pleading, instead he focuses on his orgasm as his hot cum paints your cunt through the skimpy cloth. His touch is gone as soon as he's sated, leaving you high and dry.
"just like that," Simon entices, pushing a few straggly strands of your hair out the way, " shit, just like that. Good fuckin' slut " he grits out, you couldn't help but moan around his girthy cock at his vulgar tone, the filthy words sending chills throughout your body.
"you like when I call you that?" He questions rhetorically, slightly fucking into your slobbering mouth, he did the action lazily as there wasn't much for him to do since you readily swallowed him. "I know y'r greedy ass does, look at you."
You hollow your cheeks and let out small huffs through your nose as you take him deeper down your throat. Your hands splay on his muscle-ridden thighs, clenching as your airways become filled with his cock— but you love it. You always would. You were a filthy slut that loved gobbling up Simon's bulging cock. You wanted him to remind you of it every time, of how obscene you were for him, so every time you had to eagerly show him that it still held true.
"look at me pet." He commands and you do so, looking up at him through your wet wispy lashes with him still stuffed to the hilt in your greedy mouth. A sound of pleasure pushed through seeing the vision he could never get enough of "Those eyes,"
"you know what they do to me." He grumbles, his cock pulsating in your mouth, adding emphasis to his words.
You knew what was coming next from the slight tremble in his lower half, the way his stomach caved in, and the way he unapologetically slid deeper into the depths of your mouth. You knew the signs like the back of your hand, studying Simon as he took sanction in your mouth had almost become a pastime for you. You ever so briefly remove your mouth from his cock, gasping for a quick breath before bringing your lips back to focus on his prominent tip.
" m'gonna cum all on that pretty fuckin' face." He said, "Don't take y'r eyes off me."
A tuff of air brushes against the nape of your neck as you feel Johnny snuggle closer to you, the sun rise peaking through your cracked blinds, shining light and warmth on the both of you.
"fuckin' hell," he groans, burying his head in your neck, lips brushing against your collarbone, " should've shut them all last night."
You sigh in agreement, the blaring light making it hard to fall back into a slumber. "too late to fret." You voice, raspily, turning in Johnny's arms and nestling into his chest, giggling softly at the wisps of hair that seemed to tickle your face.
"what's funny?" He leans back looking at you with sleepy eyes, overlapping his burly arms around your shoulders "Hmm?"
Your left-hand raises to rake through the silky hairs, "this you loaf. It's tickling me."
" you love it." He smugly declares, gliding a rugged hand down the length of your plush body until you feel his fingers grasp behind your thighs, pulling your leg to rest over his hip and driving you closer to him.
"do I?" You tease, a smile tugging on the ends of your lips as you find comfort in the new position— your hips unironically meet his and you could feel the swell of his morning wood against your bare center.
"seems like we're not the only ones waking up." There was no mistaking your mischievous intentions when you decided to roll your hips against his in that position.
"shit," Johnny groans, his cock nudging against your puffed pussy lips, at the attention, " you love it as well, little tease."
"Who said I was teasing?" There was a tilt of your head as you innocently peered up at Johnny through your lashes. Though the look he gave back was anything but innocent, in a way, almost daring.
One of your hands sneakily sneaks between the two of you, grasping at his erect cock, your thumb absentmindedly circles around the bulbous tip smearing the flowing precum around.
There was no mistaking the lust that infiltrated you. With a tug and twist to his shaft, you hitch your leg higher onto his hip, his hand lazily gripping your thigh as he traces random patterns on your supple skin.
Your cunt pulses, becoming a slippery mess as you align him at your entrance— Johnny was ready to sink into you, unhurriedly taking and basking in one of his euphoric places.
"Always," he murmurs into your hairline leaving a kiss, a content sigh leaving his mouth as he settles into a sensual rhythm, "always so fuckin' wet and ready for me."
John Price was colossal, there weren't many moments where you weren't enthralled by the sheer size of the man. You marveled at the way his brawny body towered over you, in the way his large hands encased your body against his, the width and capacity of his build prevalent over yours. It made him all the more wonderful to you.
You liked looking up at him when he gazed down at you with low eyes and a lazy smirk hanging on his lips. Both of your eyes wandering— taking in each other as you re-memorized every detail. The scruff that adorned the lower half of his face, the almost missable crook to his nose, or maybe even the jealous-worthy curls to his eyelashes. You take in all the details as if they weren't already known to you. His calloused hands would caress your ample cheeks, his thumb brushing under your eye at your unwavering gaze.
You'd almost melt every time he bent down to ghost his lips over yours, still looking at you before the both of you closed your eyes once he finally pressed a firm kiss to your lips. The way he'd suckle your bottom lip in between his, a rumble in his chest brewing as you mewled against him from his sultry affection.
He loved the effect he had on you, the puddle he'd make of you at the mere touches he grazed you with. The blazing looks left you squirming, yearning for the promise behind the stares he gave. He knew that you loved that his eyes only followed you, undressing you and positioning you in ways you'd never object to.
He especially loved when you were under him, when you were warm to the touch and slick with perspiration, skin blushing from the intimacy. The low-eyed look you give him as he clamps his hands around your bare waist always makes blood rush below. You'd always look down in amazement at how easily both hands fit around your abdomen. The way his fingers would press into your soft cushiony skin, the marks he would sometimes leave behind.
It was always a reminder of how he left you thoroughly fucked.
Of how his hands pressed into your sides and hips as his meaty cock nestled into your weeping cunt. You took as much of him as you could, leaving him drenched with your essence after each mind-numbing stroke. You'd cross your sore legs feeling the familiar thump between them at the vivid imagery of him fucking you into oblivion, your face getting hot at the guttural moans that tore through him as your gummy walls suffocated his cock.
sorry to be a bother but no part 2 of invasion of privacy
Never a bother Hun🫶🏽 I stepped away from writing for a bit but I'm getting back into it! Plz just bear with me while I get back into the swing of things🥲
N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs) Simon didn't do intimacy unit he met you. Call him what you need to, but there was something about tenderly kissing your forehead and whispering sweet nothings in your ear as he connected both of your bodies, which wasn't meant for anyone else. With anyone else it was for the sake of pleasure, with you it would always be a ritual of love.
O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc) There was nothing better to Simon than to see you on your knees, eyes watering and puffed lips enclosed around his meaty cock. His rough hands would come up to caress the side of your neck and stretched jaw, encouraging you to take more down your throat, because he knew you could. He loved the way your eyes lit up and cheeks became rosy as you made it your mission to take it all. "just like that, good pet."
P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.) Different times called for different measures. There were times when you and Simon were crunched on time, his job demanding his presence, but the hunger imbedded in his eyes when trained on you was unmoving. He was quick to have your front pushed against the glass shower door, your neck tucked in the crease of his arm and your hand grabbing at it while he stuffed his engorged cock into your wheeping cunt. Or other times, when time's all you had and he would ease you to the edge of the bed, leaning forward to wrap you in his arms as he slowly inched out of you and just as slowly sank back.
Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.) Quickies were essential, they kept a sense of excitement going. Yet, Simon would never pick them over proper sex with you. He wanted every moment he could get to ruin you— he loved making you become a whimpering, blubbering mess under or above him. He relished in the way your gummy walls swallowed him, mouth watering from the way your cunt welcomed him back in every time. It was his own homesick remedy. Rushing that would never be beneficial to him.
R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.) There are times. He loved it when you wore flowy skirts, his eyes would linger on your plush thighs. Sometimes you'd sit in his lap, dubious as ever, but he was swift (thanks to his profession) your panties were quick to be pushed aside, and in one go you'd be stuffed to the hilt. You'd gasp, every time, and curious eyes would fleet over. He didn't care, he would just lean on your shoulder and continue on with whatever while you struggled to keep your composure. Simon in and of himself was the risk, he doesn't care.
S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…) his job was demanding, and in return tiresome. I will not lie and say that he is a rambunctious young man because that would be a lie but it depended on the day. If work had been strenuous, he could give you a strong round that left you both very satisfied before tuckering away into bed but on a lenient day, he'd have you folded up like a lawn chair.
T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?) Simon liked seeing you thrash around from being overstimulated. He found enjoyment in seeing your puffy pussy being filled with his swollen cock with a vibrator settled against your swollen clit. Your tight walls would suffocate him as a consistent vibration would drum between you, the feeling was unimaginable. Though, He was tortuous in his ways, as he would make you hold it while he watched you crumble beneath him.
U = Unfair (how much they like to tease) Simon could be an asshole at times, I think that is pretty clear. He was a tease. The way a corner of his lips would quirk up as you tried to push your hips closer to his yet he purposely backed away from you. The way he clicked his tongue when you whined and scolded him for being unfair. I wouldn't say he was unfair persay because he always left you a satiated mess. He knew where his strengths lay and played into it. He'd have you begging for more, apologizing for nothing, and thanking him for everything.
V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make) He was never loud yet the sounds he made still filled the room. He mostly groaned, grumbling under his breath, right next to your ear as he brought both of you pleasure. The sounds he made were always guttural and when he did speak, praising you for how good you took him and or degrading you "greedy fuckin' slut,", his words were coated in a rasp.
W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice) Simon was definitely the person that'd make you beg to cum, and not in a cute way either. You'd have to beg shamelessly, with your tear-stained face aligned with his snide one. You couldn't do it in a small voice either, it had to be clear and concise, "What s'that? I couldn't fuckin' hear you, speak up."
X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words) hehehehehe ❄️
Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?) Everything wasn't about sex with Simon but he could include sex in areas you would think weren't possible. He yearned for any type of intimacy with you, showing you more than speaking it because what was there really to say? When actions speak louder than words, what would be the point in speaking. In a way, it was his own love language. Simple touches would quickly turn into sensual scuffles.
Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards) There was tranquility when it came to sex, though it wasn't instantaneous, sleep wasn't hard for Simon to succumb to once your fingers strummed through his hair after a session.
[ find a⸺m here! ] Collab with the bestie @deunmiu-dessie
Boyfriend! Gaz was something new to you. His aura was something different, he was a breath of fresh air amongst the toxic gas that poisoned the many.
He loved and cared for you in a way that many couldn't — Boyfriend! Gaz was for you and you were for him.
Boyfriend! Gaz was a gentleman, he took his time with you and tended to you in every way, He's a patient man, and for you time was of no essence. Even when you make it hard.
Gaz's callous hands grasp your plush hips in a firm grip—your legs clasping around his narrow hips, heels digging into his taut behind.
You can feel his warm breath dancing against the skin of your neck, "shit!" He whines softly, thrusting his thick lengthy cock into your slick opening.
"s-so big," you mewl into his shoulder, biting at the skin while he inches toward where pain intertwines with pleasure, "s'too much~"
"Sorry," he mumbles, placing sweet kisses on your cheeks and lips. He drags his hefty length out of your weeping cunt, being met with some resistance.
"You're fuckin' killin' me, sweetheart." The words forcing through clenched teeth, "got'to ease up some."
You flashed a bashful smile, it was now your turn to apologize. " m'sorry."
Older Boyfriend Price was very active, willingly—of course his line of work needed him to be in tip top shape but he enjoyed a multitude of things that kept the body moving.
Hiking, Running, Swimming, Fucking, etc.
There wasn't much he wasn't capable of doing and he loved to extend the gesture your way.
The waves traverse down the rigid rocks in a continuous fashion, the sound whooshing through your ears, reminiscent of one holding a conch shell to hear the sea.
Your knees were on a grassy patch of land, a numbness setting in but you couldn't bother to care at the moment.
How could you be able to care when your face was being stuffed with Price's cock?
His hands had bunched up your hair without a care, messing whatever hairstyle it was in as he tugged your head farther back to sink every inch of his fat throbbing length down your greedy throat.
"Hungry thing aren't ya'?" He chided, in awe at how easily you throated him.
You could only moan around him, there wasn't anything to disagree about, if you could keep his cock stuffed down your throat you would.
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