18+ MDNI can't stop thinking about married price x younger reader and how he fucks you...
the way john sinks into your warm cunt after a long day, letting out a sigh into your neck, relieved that he finally has you all to himself just like he's been thinking about all day...
the way the sheer girth of his cock splits you open like you've never experienced before with any man, making you feel every ridge and vein sliding against your sensitive walls that leaves you ruined and his completely...
the way he has you on your back, his giant form engulfing you entirely, bodies pressed together and drenched in sweat, his hairy chest squishing your breasts as he thrusts into you so soo deep and hard it reaches places that has you screaming his name just the way he loves...
the way he kisses you while slowly fucking you, claiming you with hungry, frantic movements, saliva everywhere as his tongue slips through your lips and explores your mouth sloppily while holding your jaw in a firm grip as if you're gonna move away, biting your bottom lip and licking the metallic taste of blood, leaving you breathless and your lips bruised and swollen...
the way he grinds into you, not thrusting in and out, just a deep grind and roll of his hips that has your toes curl and your eyes roll back into your skull, your legs closing involuntarily around his waist, nails raking all over his back and teeth sinking into his shoulder that would surely leave him bruised the next day...
the way he overstimulates you, thick cock drilling into your sloppy poor cunt that's feeling too sensitive and raw from all the orgasms he's pulled from you. "shh, it's okay, love. just one more." he coos, "you can give me one more, princess. right?" and you babble away some incoherent words in your dazed state as he pushes you over the edge for the nth time, "theeere you go. my good girl."...
but the bubble you've created bursts when his wife calls. "fuckin hell" he grumbles, head dropping onto your shoulder in disappointment as he slowly pulls out, shushing your little wince by a quick kiss before leaving to answer his phone...
older!simon who absolutely adores how much smaller petite!reader is than him. well, typically everyone is smaller than you when you're six-foot-three and counting. doorframes are smaller, airplane seats, ceilings—you get the gist. simon is used to maneuvering the world with his eye-level far above crowds since he was in middle-school by now, but it's with you that he suddenly doesn't know what to do with himself. feels like his huge, lumbering hands are too big for your body, like he'll snap your limbs in half when he takes both of your wrists in just one of his own and pins them above your head. it's like handling fine china, two meaty fingers awkwardly pinching the entire handle of a too-tiny teacup. simon isn't particularly good with metaphors, but i digress.
he always swears he can't fit inside you, but well, you do fit like a gem in the backseat of his car and the opportunity is too good to pass up. it almost feels cruel, you're so small and he's too big, but how could he not? fold you up nice and easy under him, and et voila. you're so brave for him, and it just takes a bit of pushing past the initial resistance to bury his oversized cock inside you. you're tight as a fist around the head of his cock, just at first.
you're easy to manhandle, a real-life ball-jointed doll that even a brute like simon can bend to his whim, or bounce up-and-down on his cock. fun-sized, he'd call it, you're made for the fun stuff. it's a little reductive, maybe, but you inevitably bat your lashes and reply that you were made just for him. he can do whatever wants with you.
— a/n: based on a conversation i had minutes ago, except i immediately started thinking of ghost bc simon riley is better than any real life man. <3
Your favorite part of Simon is the tattoos on his arm. They're just as rugged as he is, scuffed in places and smeared in others. You think it's because he did them himself but you've never asked. You like to imagine a young Simon, probably in the military, hovering over his arm with a stick and poke gun.
You've never been this close with tattoos before, so the fact that he's covered in them does things to your head. It makes you want to trace them every chance you get, feel the way the ink rises from his skin and creates something worth staring at.
Your lips like to follow the path of your fingers.
Simon likes to watch you. He thinks you're like a kitten, rubbing your face on his arm in affection. It makes him feel warm, a foreign feeling to a man like him. You're his good girl, always so sweet to him. How can he deny you anything when you look at him with those doe eyes?
He watches you now, eyes lidded and a smile on his face, as you lick the rose that starts at his elbow. You like the taste of him, even if it's a little salty. You'd lick every inch of him if you could, but Simon is a busy man. You take what you can get.
His other hand comes to card through your hair, pushing it out of your face so he can see you better. "Like that, do you?"
You nod, not wanting to pull away from his arm. You're too focused on the way the ink tastes on your tongue, the way it feels against your lips. You move lower, to the words etched into his skin.
Simon's chuckle is low, the sound vibrating through his chest. "You're a curious little thing, aren't you?"
You hum in response, too lost in the feeling of his skin under your mouth to form a coherent sentence. You're at his wrist now, your lips brushing against the pulse point. You can feel his heartbeat, steady and strong, and it makes your own race in response.
Simon watches as you take his fingers into your mouth, your tongue swirling around the ink on his skin. He can feel your saliva coating his fingers, the warmth of your mouth making his cock twitch in his pants. You look up at him through your lashes, your eyes wide and innocent, but the way you're sucking on his fingers is anything but.
"Christ, bird. You're gonna make me cum in my pants if you keep that up."
You pull away with a pop, a grin on your face. "That's the idea, Si."
He shakes his head, a smirk playing on his lips. "You're a little minx, you know that?"
You just shrug, going back to his arm, your lips trailing down to his shoulder. You can feel the muscles there, the way they shift under his skin as he moves. You want to bite him, to mark him in the same way he's marked you, but you hold back. You don't want to hurt him, not like that.
Simon seems to sense your thoughts, his hand tilting your chin up so you're looking at him. "It's okay, love. You can bite me if you want."
You hesitate for a second, but then you're sinking your teeth into his shoulder, your mouth closing around the muscle there. You suck hard, wanting to leave a mark, wanting everyone to know that he's yours.
Simon groans, his hand fisting in your hair. "Fuck, that's it. Mark me up, bird. Let everyone know who I belong to."
You pull away, admiring the red mark you've left on his skin. It's not a tattoo, but it's a start. You lean in again, this time pressing a soft kiss to the mark. Simon's hand relaxes in your hair, his thumb stroking your cheek.
"Good girl," he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion. "My good girl."
You preen under his praise, your chest swelling with pride. You may not have tattoos like him, but you've left your mark on him in your own way. And as he pulls you in for a kiss, his mouth claiming yours, you know that you'll always be his, just as he's always been yours.
foster fail || Simon "Ghost" Riley & Johnny "Soap" MacTavish
pairing → Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader x Johnny "Soap" MacTavish
summary → You foster displaced hybrids to help them find their forever home. But with your new fosters, Johnny and Simon, you quickly realize they're more than you've bargained for.
warnings → smut (18+ only!), fem!reader, owner!reader, k9!hybrid!Johnny, k9!hybrid!Simon, unprotected sex, knotting, oral (f!receiving), cum eating, Simon's and Johnny's relationship is already established, Johnny is a misbehaving little shit
author's note → Hello. I don't know what this is, I just wanted to try my hand at writing some smut again, and here we are now. I really never know if my smut is good or not, but I hope you like it, and let me know what you think about this. Every like, reblog or comment is hugely appreciated! 💕
word count → 3.8k
(I took the liberty to tag some people who were interested in the idea: @lelisae, @raphieboy-18💖)
masterlist
When you agreed to take in two retired canine hybrids from the SAS you didn't really think anything of it at first. After all, you've helped countless hybrids find their forever home with a loving family or a pack that readily took them in in the past. You were, of course, prepared for a bigger challenge than you usually faced because of these hybrids' past with the military. The files you got on them ahead of meeting them didn't tell you a whole lot about their experiences with the special forces; most of it was declared classified and made it impossible for you to anticipate anything about their characters or wants and needs in advance—only that under no circumstances should they be separated.
So when you meet Johnny and Simon, you've already spent days getting your house ready for their arrival, have bought a ton of new blankets and toys, and have prepared your spare room for them as well as the living room. You are a firm believer in giving your foster hybrids as much privacy and freedom as you could, allowing them to use the common rooms just as freely as you do but always giving them the opportunity to retreat back to their room and close the door whenever they feel like it. And you never had problems with this decision in the past. In your experience, the hybrids are much faster to trust you and feel comfortable around you because of it, and that's really all you want before you start looking for their forever home with them.
And it isn't any different with Johnny and Simon. When you give them the grand tour of your modest but comfortable home, showing them everything, from the living room to the vast backyard and lastly their very own room, Johnny's ears perk up and his tail starts to wag behind him in unmistakable delight. Without warning, he nuzzles close to you, burying his face in the crook of your neck while his entire body presses close to yours, making you stumble back a few steps because of his unrestrained enthusiasm and build.
"Well, I'm glad you like it," you say with a laugh, surprised but not upset about how he's this comfortable with you and being close to you already.
Simon on the other hand takes a lot more time warming up to you and his new environment, but you remain patient with him, giving him the time and space he needs to get accustomed to this new situation, trusting Johnny's uncanny ability to tell you exactly what Simon is currently thinking or needing with only one look at his usually silent companion.
Overall, they're a delight to have around, helping you around the house without you having to ask them and going on runs together with them in your free time that usually end with you questioning all your life choices leading up to the decision to dust off your running shoes while the two hybrids haven't even broken a sweat yet, two pairs of eyes pleading for you not to take them home yet. You always indulge them, of course you do, even though it means your legs kill you with how many miles you ran with them the next day. And the day after that. And also the day after that.
In the evenings, the three of you quickly establish a routine that consists of a big and meat-centric dinner for both of them and a more balanced one for you, doing the dishes together before collapsing on your couch in the living room. You never expect them to stay and watch TV with you, you've told them more than once they're free to go to their room if they'd rather spend some time alone together, but it seems they're more than content to be around you. To no one's surprise, Johnny immediately cuddles up to you the moment you sit down on the couch, laying his head in your lap so you can pet him to your—and more importantly his—heart's content, whining pitifully if you even stop your ministrations for nothing more than a few seconds.
Simon, predictably, takes more time to feel comfortable with being close to you, but eventually he too seeks out your touch willingly, which leads to you being sandwiched between two solid and warm bodies whenever you so much as think about relaxing on your couch for a few minutes after work.
You also learn just days after taking in Johnny and Simon that their bond is much stronger, or more accurately… much more intimate than you first assumed. You never address it, not wanting to pry into their private relationship when you have no right to, and they never mentioned it to you either.
Not that they have to, the muffled but unmistakable noises you hear through the wall separating your bedroom from theirs in the night, low growls and deep moans as well as the tell-tale creaking of their mattress and the rhythmic banging of their headboard against the wall, paired with the angry red marks that run down Johnny's back and the bite marks decorating Simon's thighs, chest and neck you catch glimpses of in the mornings paint a clear picture of their nightly activities.
You try to ignore it, try not to listen to them, you really do, but sometimes they're just so loud that you hear them even over the music on your headphones while hiding your burning face in your pillow, fighting against the shameful urge to just let your hand wander between your thighs and take care of yourself to their sinful noises. You never do though, the unsatisfied heat still simmering low in your stomach when you get up in the mornings, leaving you cranky and much more responsive to even the smallest of touches which coincidentally correlates with the days Johnny's and Simon's understanding of your personal space is especially questionable. They're constantly brushing up against you on mornings like these or trapping you on the couch between them during the evenings, one of them all but crawling between your legs to lie their head on your soft stomach, wrapping strong arms around one of your legs and massaging your thighs with warm and steady fingers, while the other one drapes himself around the rest of your body, pressing his face against your sensitive neck and just breathing you in. And if it's Johnny, you can also be sure that at some point he can't resist the temptation to let one of his sharp canines graze against your soft skin, nibbling gently just to hear you gasp before sweetly soothing the sting with his tongue.
It takes you no time at all to catch up on what exactly they're doing and you're decidedly not pleased with them because of it. After all, you want to rehome them, but with how they're behaving you just know the process of finding a forever home for them will be nothing short of a nightmare. And you tell them as much as you sit them down one evening, scolding them how their behavior is entirely inappropriate and you expect them to behave themselves better starting right now.
Simon listens to you dutifully like the good boy he is, starting to ask for cuddles and pets instead of just trapping you under his solid body and whining at you until you give in and run your fingers through his hair and scratch behind his ears. Johnny, however, seems to take your words as a challenge, bending your rules and testing your patience whenever and however he can, positively driving you up the fucking wall with his behavior.
You're livid when you come home from work one day and you have to kick him out of your room for the third time this week—the only room in your whole house he knows he has absolutely no business being in. Only tonight, he's sprawled out in the middle of your bed like he has every right to, with his shirt pushed up over his toned stomach while one of his hands disappears beneath the waistband of his shorts, wrapped around his noticeable erection, jerking himself off with hurried strokes as precum stains the fabric of his underwear. He doesn't stop when you yell at him to, only quickening his pace as you stomp over to him and grab him by the back of his thick neck, trying to haul him up and off your bed, but he's too strong and heavy for you to get him to move in any direction at all, the wet noise of his fist gliding over his cock obscene and entirely too loud in the small space between the two of you.
"Bad dog, Johnny!" you scold him, your furious eyes boring into his, his pupils blown wide enough to leave only a small ring of his brilliant blue irises around them. But your words only seems to spur the mutt on further, relishing in the feeling of your unrelenting hand clamping down hard on the back of his neck, your skin warm and soft against his burning one, panting and whining as he never stops his hand's movement on his leaking cock until his entire body suddenly pulls taunt and he comes with a low growl of your name, spilling his sticky release all over himself, coating his fingers.
He looks entirely too proud of himself as you make a disgusted face and jerk away from him, and you know he can smell your arousal because of this little show he's put on for you, so you don't dignify him with any more yelling and simply send him to the bathroom to shower, giving you some much-needed time to calm yourself down before facing him again. And most importantly to change into a new, dry pair of underwear.
While you hear the shower running in the bathroom, you silently seethe to yourself as you try to think of a punishment that is not too strict for your liking but will also teach Johnny a lesson he desperately needs without you playing into this little game of his as well.
So for tonight, you simply settle on lying down on the couch together with Simon, guiding him to snuggle up close to you as a rerun of an old sitcom lights up your TV screen, its laugh track ringing out faintly in the background. The shower eventually turns off again and Johnny emerges from the bathroom in nothing but a pair of shorts not soon after, a fat grin plastered on his face as he saunters over to you and Simon. You spare him only a quick and deeply unamused glance before turning your attention back to the TV, telling him to not even think about joining you and Simon on the couch, not after this little stunt he just pulled. Johnny's grin only widens, not believing you're being serious for one second, but the look you give him when he tries to climb onto the couch with you and his companion makes him hesitate at last.
Huffing in indignation, Johnny sinks to the floor and curls up by your feet on the carpet, deep sighs escaping him from time to time while he looks up to you with the best puppy dog eyes he can muster. But you simply ignore his dramatics for the entire evening, never letting your attention stray away from the TV and Simon, gently running your fingers through the hybrid's short hair and cooing softly at him as you scratch behind his ears, turning him to putty in your hands with your gentle ministrations.
But you know Johnny needs a more decisive lesson than this or he's never learning to behave himself.
Some days later, you've come up with exactly that—a suitable punishment for Johnny's past transgressions that at the same time serves as a reward for Simon who has never let his companion's bad behavior rub off on him, always listening to you and behaving himself admirably.
That afternoon, you send Johnny on a little errand all on his own, ignoring his grumbling and whining as he makes his way to the front door of your house, looking back to see if you're paying him any attention at all, only to realize you're focused entirely on his companion, smiling up at Simon adoringly.
When the front door falls shut with much more force than necessary, you take Simon's hand and lead him to your bedroom, the large hybrid following you dutifully, his tail wagging behind him in subdued excitement.
"Let me take care of you today, Simon," you tell him sweetly as you guide him to lie down on your bed, wasting no time to follow after him and straddle his thighs, watching in fond amusement how quickly his pupils dilate and how hard he fights for his restraint not to touch you before you allow him to, his thick fingers twitching restlessly by his sides.
"What about Johnny?" he asks, already breathless, his eyes half-lidded from nothing more than your warm weight on top of him. You coo at him, marveling at how sweet and considerate he is, that even now he's thinking of his companion, one hand coming up to cup his strong jaw.
"Well, Johnny needs to learn a lesson, that only good boys get rewarded," you explain patiently, your thumb caressing his cheek, trailing over the prominent scar there, "And he hasn't been very good lately, has he? But you've been such a good boy, Simon, and you deserve a reward for that, don't you think?"
Simon nods almost mindlessly, too focused on you and your pretty face as you start to close the distance between the two of you. His fair lashes flutter shut when he feels your lips brush softly against his for the very first time, a teasing almost-kiss that has a whine rise up in his chest immediately, but he doesn't dare to just press closer to you or ask for more, simply taking whatever you graciously decide to give him.
His obedience is rewarded when you kiss him in earnest only a few torturous seconds later, tilting his head back as you slide your tongue between his parted lips, Simon all but panting into your mouth, hips bucking up involuntarily, causing his hard length to press against your center oh-so deliciously.
You chuckle breathlessly against his mouth at the feeling, reveling in the broken whine you elicit from him when you press close to him again, deliberately dragging your core over his erection while you marvel at his self-restraint, his scarred hands gripping your sheets in a white-knuckled grasp because you haven't yet told him otherwise.
"Touch me, Simon," you order him as your lips begin to trail down his neck, and he wastes no time following your generous command, desperately pawing at every part of your body he can reach.
When Johnny returns home some twenty minutes later, a bag full of groceries hanging from his arm while he unlocks your front door with the other hand, his mood is at an all-time low, the fluffy dog ears on top of his head pulled back, letting the whole world know exactly how he's feeling about your recent dismissive behavior towards him.
He closes the door with too much force than necessary and toes off his shoes, only to freeze mid-movement when his ears perk up incredulously, picking up a sound from somewhere within the house that makes his blood freeze in his veins—and then boil.
Simon's whines and moans echo off your bedroom walls in unmistakable pleasure and desperation, noises normally only Johnny gets to draw from his companion, noises he made sure you won't be able to ignore once you've taken them in.
When your sweet moans start to mix with Simon's sinful noises, Johnny's self-control snaps almost violently, his ears pinning back against his head while he bares his teeth for no one to see. He drops the groceries right where he stands and stomps over to your room, the sounds only growing louder and louder the closer he gets, the combined scent of Simon's and your arousal heady even in the hallway outside your bedroom, making his mouth water.
Without thinking, Johnny throws open your door, all but barging into your room, and the scene he gets treated to then almost makes him come from sight alone.
Simon is sprawled out on your bed in all his naked glory, his sweaty chest glistening in the low light of your bedroom, pathetically whining and moaning underneath you and looking completely out of it already—just like when Johnny is mercilessly pounding into him in their own room, putting on a show for you night after night. Simon's big hands are holding onto your hips desperately, no doubt leaving your flesh tender and bruised in the morning, while you bounce on his hard cock, your head thrown back with your eyes closed as your own hands travel up your body teasingly to squeeze your tits, rolling your erect nipple between your fingers and moaning shamelessly when a shock of pure pleasure zips down your spine.
Without slowing your pace, without even turning your head or opening your eyes, you suddenly speak up, addressing Johnny who never wants to hear his name leaving your lips ever again not formed around a shaky little moan, even though your words make him feel like crying.
"You stay exactly where you are, Johnny," you tell him sternly, your voice breathless but leaving no room for arguments, "and don't even think about touching yourself."
Johnny only whimpers at your words, as if following your command physically pains him, but miraculously he listens to you without complaint and drops down to his knees where he stands, right on the threshold of your bedroom. His hands grip onto his thighs in order to obey your bidding even when his dick twitches pathetically in his underwear, so hard it hurts, as he can't do anything else but to listen to the wet sounds of skin slapping against skin, of your unrestrained moans and Simon's desperate groans. To watch you and Simon together from the sidelines, watch how your pretty hole stretches around Simon's girth and swallows him over and over again, watch the creamy white ring of your shared arousal gather at his partner's base where his knot is already forming, watch your rhythm begin to falter and Simon's abdomen pull taut.
Simon bucks up into you with one last harsh thrust as he tumbles over the edge with a growl, forcing you to take his knot, the sensation unlike anything you've ever experienced before, and it rips your orgasm out of you almost violently.
You choke on a cry of Simon's name as stars explode behind your eyes and blind you, your ears ringing faintly, and you're only dimly aware of the delicious sting of his knot settling into you fully, your pussy desperately pulsing around it as he spills his release deep inside you, making you take everything he's giving you and not letting you spill even a single drop.
Simon catches you as you all but collapse onto his chest, strong arms coming around you immediately and holding you close as both of you ride out the last waves of your shared orgasm. You feel like you're underwater, everything is hazy and muted and just a little farther away than it normally is, and you bask in the sensation just a little longer, humming contentedly as Simon is the one to run his fingers through your hair for once.
As your awareness sharpens again, you realize Simon's knot is still firmly lodged inside of you, splitting you open and tethering you to him, and you let out a tiny gasp at the feeling before you can stop yourself, at how full you are, the sensation just deliciously toying with the edge of being painful and overwhelming.
And you know you could very well become addicted to it.
The moment is interrupted by a heartbreaking whimper from Johnny somewhere behind you, but you ignore him in favor of pressing gentle kisses along Simon's jaw and neck, quietly checking in with him. It takes only a few more minutes after Simon assured you he's okay, more than okay really, that you feel his knot slowly recede inside of you, allowing you to carefully untangle yourself from the hybrid but leaving you emptier than you've ever felt before.
But you push your discomfort aside and instead turn your attention back to where Johnny still kneels in the threshold of your bedroom, looking—for lack of a better description—like a kicked puppy. A puppy that is horny enough to pass out by the looks of it, his chest rising and falling in rapid succession while his entire face is flushed and his pupils blown wide enough to appear completely black.
Admittedly, you're a little surprised he actually listened to you when you told him to stay, so you gently move off of Simon and to the edge of your bed, your legs feeling embarrassingly unsteady, Johnny's pleading eyes following your every movement. Once you've gotten comfortable there, you beckon the hybrid closer to you and he crawls towards you without hesitation.
You smile down at him as you wordlessly open your legs for him and let him settle between them, one hand trailing down your chest and stomach teasingly before spreading your sticky folds for him, your pussy a mess of your arousal mixing with Simon's thick seed beginning to drip from your pretty hole.
Your other hand reaches for Johnny, who seems nothing short of mesmerized by the sight in front of him, gently settling at the back of his head and urging him closer to your center, the hybrid letting himself be willingly guided by you.
"Show me what a good boy you can be and help me clean up, Johnny, alright?" you all but purr, biting back a laugh when he nods eagerly without his eyes ever leaving this debauched display in front of him, his tail beginning to wag behind him.
You sigh and recline back on one elbow as Johnny's smart tongue first presses against your still sensitive pussy while your other hand threads through his mohawk to keep him close, the hybrid not hesitating to lick a broad stripe from your weeping hole to your clit, greedily lapping up your arousal and Simon's spend.
That night, just before falling asleep between the two hybrids, absolutely spent and satisfied, your body feeling pleasantly exhausted and heavy while the fresh bite marks on your thighs sting deliciously, you must admit to yourself that Johnny and Simon are your first foster fails, because you'll never give them away again for anything in the world. Even though Johnny will without a doubt continue to test your patience now and again, but you're sure that with Simon's help, you'll teach him that only good boys get their treats after all.
Thank you so much for reading <3 Likes, reblogs and comments are highly appreciated!
Feel free to hop into my inbox if you have a fic request or just want to talk ✨
Hii! I was thinking about how Phillip would be at the beach or that kinda vacation.Would he be flirty or...idk.Of course,no pressure or anything.I was also wondering if you were okay since there have been about 6 days since you last posted.Thats all.Bye!!
Oops took me forever to get to this. So sorry! I’ve been posting regularly because of how busy I’ve been with work and grad school BUT I’m back!
-
You wake to Phillip’s work voice.
Low, clipped, and completely out of place in a bedroom washed in warm morning light.
“No. Push it to Monday.”
The balcony doors are open. White curtains drift lazily into the room, carrying the smell of saltwater and flowering vines from somewhere below. Beyond them, the ocean flashes blue beneath the rising sun.
Phillip stands barefoot near the window in nothing but black boxer briefs.
His back is turned to you, one hand holding his phone to his ear while the other rests on his hip. Morning light catches along his shoulders and the old scars scattered across his skin. His hair is still disordered from sleep, curling slightly where it usually lies neat.
“I understand that,” he says. “They can wait.”
You stretch beneath the sheets, watching the muscles in his back shift as he moves.
He looks unfairly good for a man breaking the only rule you gave him for this vacation.
No work before breakfast.
You slide out of bed.
The tile is cool beneath your feet. Phillip does not hear you approach over the voice coming through his phone and the waves breaking outside.
Or he pretends not to.
You wrap your arms around his waist from behind and press your cheek between his shoulder blades.
His entire posture changes.
Only slightly.
His shoulders loosen, and his free hand immediately covers yours where they rest against his stomach.
“I’m still listening,” he says into the phone.
You smile against his back.
His thumb strokes once over your knuckles.
A warning.
You kiss the warm skin between his shoulder blades.
Phillip pauses.
The person on the other end continues speaking.
His hand tightens around yours.
“Go on,” he tells them.
You kiss him again.
Lower this time.
Phillip turns his head just enough to look at you over his shoulder.
His blue eyes narrow.
You give him your sweetest smile.
He covers the bottom of the phone with his palm.
“You gonna behave?”
“You’re on vacation.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
You press another kiss against his back.
“No.”
His mouth twitches.
“Thought so.”
He returns to the call, but instead of moving away, Phillip reaches behind himself and hooks one arm around you. His palm settles firmly over your backside, keeping you pressed against him while he listens to someone explain whatever emergency apparently could not survive until Monday.
You slip your fingers beneath the waistband of his underwear.
Phillip catches your wrist instantly.
He does not turn around.
He does not interrupt the person speaking.
He simply pulls your hand away and holds it flat against his stomach.
You can feel the quiet laugh moving through his chest.
“Careful, Sweetheart.”
The words are meant for you, though the person on the phone goes silent.
“Not you,” Phillip says. “Keep talking.”
You bite back a laugh.
His hand slides slowly up the back of your thigh, fingers disappearing beneath the hem of the shirt you slept in. He squeezes once, almost absentmindedly, like touching you requires no more conscious thought than breathing.
You press closer.
His voice stays calm.
Professional.
But his thumb has begun drawing slow circles against the bare curve of your ass.
“Yes,” he says into the phone. “Send me the revised numbers.”
You kiss the side of his neck.
His head tips slightly, granting you more room before he seems to realize what he has done.
You smile against his skin.
Phillip covers the phone again.
“You got about five seconds to get back in that bed.”
“Or what?”
His gaze drags over your bare legs.
“Or I’m gonna forget there’s somebody on this call.”
“You already forgot.”
His eyes return to yours.
Something hot and amused settles into them.
“Four.”
You step away from him.
Phillip watches as you walk backward toward the bed, his attention slipping down your body without shame.
“Three,” he says.
“You cannot count while conducting business.”
“Two.”
You climb onto the mattress and settle against the pillows, making no effort to pull the shirt back down over your thighs.
Phillip’s jaw shifts.
The wintergreen gum tucked in his cheek gives him away.
He turns toward the balcony again.
“One.”
You lift the sheet over your legs.
“See? Behaving.”
His eyes move over you once more.
“No, you’re not.”
He takes his hand away from the phone.
“Move the meeting. I’ll look at it Monday.”
The person begins protesting.
Phillip stares directly at you.
“Because my wife needs me.”
Your brows rise.
You do not need anything.
Judging by the look on his face, he knows that.
“No,” he continues. “It is not an emergency.”
A pause.
“It better not become one.”
He ends the call and powers the phone off before placing it facedown on the table.
The room goes quiet except for the ocean.
You smile.
“That was very commanding.”
Phillip begins walking toward the bed.
“That right?”
“Very impressive.”
He stops at the foot of the mattress.
“And you were very distracting.”
“I was saying good morning.”
“With your hand in my underwear?”
“I am affectionate.”
“Is that what we’re calling it?”
Phillip catches your ankle beneath the sheet.
You try to pull it away, but his grip tightens just enough to drag you several inches toward him.
“Phillip.”
“Morning, beautiful.”
He bends and kisses the inside of your ankle.
Then your calf.
His mouth moves slowly upward while his hands push the sheet away from your legs.
“That is a very delayed greeting.”
“Was busy.”
“You promised not to work.”
“I promised to try.”
“That is not what you said.”
Phillip climbs onto the mattress, settling between your knees.
“No?” His hands slide beneath the shirt and close around your waist. “What’d I say?”
“You said they could survive without you for three days.”
“They can.”
“They called you before eight.”
“Desperate people.”
“You answered.”
“Moment of weakness.”
His mouth brushes your stomach.
You thread your fingers into his sleep-mussed hair.
“And now?”
Phillip looks up at you.
His hands travel higher along your sides, taking the shirt with them until cool air slips across your skin.
“Recovered.”
He kisses beneath your ribs, lingering there.
Then the center of your stomach.
Then the soft skin just above your hip.
It is unhurried in a way Phillip rarely gets to be at home. No watch on his wrist. No boots beside the door. No vehicle waiting to take him somewhere you cannot follow.
Just sunlight moving over the bed and his mouth wandering wherever it pleases.
“You planned an entire vacation just to stay in the room?” you ask.
Phillip pushes your shirt higher and kisses the skin he uncovers.
“Planned it to get you somewhere nobody can find us.”
“They found you.”
His gaze flicks toward the dark phone.
“Won’t happen again.”
“You sound confident.”
“I own the phone. Can throw it in the ocean if I need to.”
“That seems excessive.”
His mouth curves against your waist.
“You keep touching me like that while I’m trying to work, and excessive is what you’re gonna get.”
You tug lightly at his hair.
“I thought you liked it.”
Phillip rises over you.
One hand settles beside your head. The other remains beneath your shirt, thumb tracing the underside of your breast.
His face is close enough that you can smell wintergreen and coffee on his breath.
“I liked it too much.”
He kisses you.
Not sweetly.
Not at first.
His mouth catches yours with all the focus he had been giving the phone moments earlier. You barely have time to breathe before his hand slides behind your neck and pulls you deeper into it.
Then the edge softens.
The kiss slows.
Phillip brushes his nose against yours before kissing the corner of your mouth, your cheek, the sleep-warm skin beneath your eye.
“Morning, beautiful,” he murmurs again.
You smile despite yourself.
“You already said that.”
“Wasn’t looking at you properly the first time.”
His hand slips around your waist, pulling you against him until there is no space left between you.
“You turned your phone off.”
“Mm-hmm.”
“What if they need Commander Graves?”
Phillip studies your face for a moment.
The teasing in his expression fades into something quieter.
“They get him every other morning.”
His thumb moves over your cheek.
“I spend half my life waking up in rooms without you. They can leave me alone in the one where you’re here.”
The words settle somewhere beneath your ribs.
You pull him down and kiss him before he can see how much they affected you.
Phillip smiles against your mouth anyway.
He always knows.
His arm tightens around you as he rolls onto his back, taking you with him until you are stretched across his chest.
The curtains billow into the room.
His phone stays dark.
Somewhere on the table, the coffee he ordered before you woke grows cold.
Phillip kisses your shoulder, then the side of your neck, his hands moving lazily beneath your shirt.
Stoppp the dramaaa of cheater price x young reader. Me thinks perhaps it could get even more messy say…he was professor price and he can’t just seem to keep his hands off his fav uni student.
thoughts?? 😏 (slides you a $20)
ooo that's yummyy (tnx i really needed that 20 bucks im broke af)
18+ MDNI
say you've been teasing john in class. he glances over at you while teaching, his eyes landing on your low cut tank top exposing your pushed up breasts, your short skirt doing nothing to hide your beautiful legs.
but that's not all of course. you notice his gaze, a smirk forming on your lips as you part your legs slyly, showing him that you're not wearing any panties.
suddenly his words fall into a short stammer, but he gathers his composure quickly by looking down and clearing his throat.
you giggle to yourself.
and on break, you receive a text from him, 'stay after class'. you know what that means. this is not gonna end well for you. you squeeze your thighs together at the thought.
and when you're alone with him in the locked class, he grabs you with firm hands and bends you over his desk, your skirt hiking up in the process to expose your bare pussy.
"you're a little tease, aren't you, pretty girl?" he says, a rough hand suddenly coming in contact with your pussy. you gasp as he slides a finger along your folds, feeling how wet you already are for him.
"you know i have no patience for this behavior, don't you?" he adds, suddenly landing a firm slap on your pussy. a surprised yelp escapes your lips.
he grabs your hair and yanks your head back, "and what's with wearing these clothes?" he hisses, "putting on a show for everyone?" another slap. much harder than the last. "huh, little slut?"
"p-please, i'm sorryyy, s-sir" you cry, broken words leaving your mouth as he goes on spanking your soaked pussy, following by rubbing it as if to soothe the pain.
"you're gonna pay, princess." he purrs before taking out his cock, already hard and throbbing, and shoves it inside your needy cunt without warning. you scream and clutch the edges of the desk.
the way he slams into you with vigorous thrusts sends shockwaves right through your spine, stretching your unprepped walls so wide the sting will surely remain for days.
your knees nearly give out, but he holds your hips in a bruising grasp. the sinful sounds of skin slapping against skin and your unrestrained moans fill the room, resulting in him slapping a hand against your mouth to muffle your loud noises. "wanna get caught, you whore?"
he chases his peak with desperate movements, trying so hard to contain his own loud sounds, letting out only breathy grunts as he watches how his thick cock drives in and out of your soaking wet pretty pussy.
and when he finally reaches his high, it's absolutely filthy. with a stuttered groan muffled by your shoulder, load after load of hot thick cum spills deep inside your cunt, pumping you full of his seed. and when he pulls out his softening cock, it oozes out your sloppy folds.
"up you go, pretty." he pats your ass, sorting himself out as you're left utterly ruined, still panting heavily and trying to calm your breaths and racing mind.
you stand on wobbly legs, walking out with a slight limp while his cum drips down your thighs.
gonna continue this fo sho with more drama and feelsss 👀
