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Main Blog / Stranger Things blog: cherrychilli
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Masterlist 👇
John Price x Secretary! reader - You finally come clean about your crush on your boss
Simon Riley x f! reader - You want to be more than just coworkers with Ghost. Unfortunately, he's not too great on picking up on hints
John Price x f! reader - You surprise John on date night with a new purchase in the form of a vey intimate new toy
🌽 links - Ghost sweeps you off your feet but not in the traditional sense
Pervy! Simon Riley x neighbor! reader - Your first real interaction with your neighbor takes place when Simon hands over an intimate parcel that was mistakenly delivered to his door.
18+ Simon 'Ghost' Riley x f! reader, established relationship, lil pinch of angst and assumed cheating (no actual cheating don’t worry), PIV sex, tipsy sex, rough sex, unprotected sex, and a tiny bit of dub con. WC:2.9K
Summary: At the end of every mission that calls him away for weeks at a time, Simon has coming home to you to look forward to. But there’s only so much loneliness you can take until you’re forced to act out.
Divider credit: @/cursed-carmine
You were really pushing it.
It’s 3.43AM by the time the cab pulls up, Simon barely budging from his spot on his chair as he listens to you drunkenly holler goodbye to your equally drunk pack of friends as they depart. The click clack of your heels on the cobblestones leading up to your front door makes his jaw clench, thick arms crossed over his broad chest, thicker legs filling out a pair of grey sweats, bare feet set apart.
When you manage to work your key into the lock and get the door open you jump a little at the sight of Simon sat there waiting for you in the almost dark, a half-drunk bottle of whiskey on the coffee table and just the one light on beside him. Usually, you would have bounded to him, so tipsy and bubbly as you pounce on to him, peppering a rain of kisses all over his face as he grunts in reply with a couple of soft pats on your ass.
This wasn’t one of those times.
All traces of that bouncy, excitable buzz you’d carried with you up to the door fizzles at the stern look on his face, one of your own taking over as you roll your eyes and let out a curt little ‘hmpf’. You tip your chin up, locking the door behind you, ready to make your way to the bathroom when he finally speaks up.
“How long are you going to keep this up?”
“Oh, so you can speak after all, huh? had me fooled.”
You turn your back on him, slipping your tired feet out of your heels before bending over to pick them up and place them on the shoe rack. You’ve barely set them down when you start at the sudden sound of Simon leaving his chair, the legs screeching against the floor from how quickly he’d gotten up and pushed it back.
In a moment he’s in front of you. Towering. Looming. Casting a shadow that swallows you whole.
“Sweetheart…”, though there’s no warmth or fondness there when he says it. It has the cadence of a warning more than anything else.
“Where the fuck are your panties?”
You bite down hard on the inside of your cheek, your eyes remaining sharp despite the fresh dews of sweat beading at the nape of your neck. Maybe you shouldn’t have bent over in a dress this short.
“I said”, he repeats, just as imposing as the first time. “Where. The fuck. Are your panties?”
This close, the smell of smoke, booze and the little wisps left of your perfume only tick him off even more. He can practically feel the beat of the deafening club music thumping on his skin as it had done yours, dancing in a room filled with strangers. Men eyeing you. Offering to buy you drinks. Trying to work their way in between you and your friends on the dance floor. Trying to coax you into a cab and back to their place.
Simon wasn't the jealous kind. When you’re big enough and skilled enough to beat someone’s ass in a myriad of ways it makes other men seem barely a threat. Them coming on to you? Not a bother. Even when he wasn’t there, he knew you knew how to take care of yourself. But you? Indulging them?
That was a problem.
“None. Of. Your. Business”, you seethe back.
Turning on your bare heel, you’re about to stomp away when one of those giant hands of his reaches out for your tiny wrist, pulling you back around to face him before he uses the other to yank up your tight little black dress.
He gets the hem up to your hips, the vein by his temple swelling and pulsing as he finds your pussy completely bare.
You didn’t…did you?
It’s hard to remain composed when all he can do it picture you sat there on one of those squeaky stools by the bar, sipping on a sugary cocktail with a little paper umbrella hanging over the rim of it as you part your legs a few inches to let the man sat beside you, likely the one to have bought you said drink, see you bare yourself for him.
You try to wring yourself free.
No use.
“Damnit, Simon, get off”.
That’s when he notices the peaks of your nipples showing through your dress too. On another day it would have excited him but now it has him roughly slipping his fingers into the neckline of your dress. He rips it fast. The band aid approach. The material rips down the middle, black stitching coming apart like tissue paper in his grip.
“SIMON, WHAT THE FUCK”, you scream at your forced undressing, arms coming up to hide your breasts though there’s hardly any use in doing so.
“What’s the matter? Didn’t you want to show yourself off?”
“NO!...I just…I just…”
“What? Come on. Out with it. Or did you not think that part through yet?”
It’s a entirely different kind of humiliation to be stripped bare like this in the middle of a fight. How can you stand your ground when you’re standing there completely naked?
“Well?”, he prompts again, even more acidic than the first time.
“I didn’t think you’d care”, you shoot back, letting your hands fall to your sides, fingers clenching into fists.
Despite everything his eyes fall to your body, like strings puppeteering his gaze. He shouldn’t be staring. He shouldn’t be ogling. He shouldn’t be letting the sight of you like this make his cock jump in his sweats.
He’s pissed after all.
And so are you.
All because he’d done it again.
Simon had promised to cut back on these kinds of missions. The ones that went on for weeks and required him to go dark. No communication outside of the team. Weeks of leaving you alone in your shared house, waiting for a text to say he’s still breathing.
He’d gotten back this evening. All of your things were still there. Only you were missing. It didn’t take much to deduce where you’d gone. Your makeup sat out in disarray on the vanity. The hanger in your closet where that tiny dress of yours had hung from was empty. The black stilettos also missing from the shoe rack. That Italian perfume, the one you reserve for nights out, still hung in the air.
He knew you’d seen all the messages too. The ones that came after two weeks of silence. Asking where you were. When you were coming home. So on and so on.
You had a right to be mad. He knew it.
But the thought of you feeling so lonely that you were willing to tease a bunch of strangers for attention made him want to force his fist through the heads of any man who’d dared to look.
Even if it was just looking and no touching, it didn’t feel even slightly better. Both just as acrid as the other to him.
“…You knew I was coming back. You didn’t have to do this”
“No actually, I never know when you’re coming back. I never knew you’d even gone this time until I came back and found your note, if you can even call it that, Simon. I deserved better than a little scrap of paper.”
“You know the kind of work I do.”
“You promised me you’d stop.”
“I don’t have much of a choice.”
“Yeah, that’s what you keep telling yourself”, you roll your eyes, crossing your arms over your naked chest.
“Even Price spends more time with his wife than you and I do. They barely ever leave the room, Simon! You should have seen all the hickeys on her body the last time we went out for brunch.”
He goes mute. Completely unreadable. You can’t bear it.
“I’m going to shower”, you try to take your chance to leave but he reaches for you again, this time he latches on to your upper arm, pulling you back to him.
“You’re not going anywhere”.
Simon's foot hooks behind your heel and he pulls it forward quick, upsetting your balance, sending you backwards, back hitting the carpeted floor, the air leaving your lungs with the blow.
You’re about to yell at him again, cuss him out good for knocking you over but there’s no time. He’s on you quick, getting down to cover your body with his, one hand gathering your wrists together and pinning them above your head.
The other makes for your cunt, cupping his hand over it and squeezing.
“It’s mine, right? Or have you forgotten?”
In his hot, none too gentle hold you’re reminded of all the times you’ve spread your legs for him and told him it was his. His pussy to fuck. His pussy to make a mess of. His pussy to own. That he’d take care of it best. Make it feel good, so good, and all you’d have to do was lay back or get down on all fours and let him. He’d been a man of his word in that regard. Paying your pussy all the attention you craved and more. Sometimes even overwhelming you with it.
“What happened to all that tough talk, huh? Speak up”, he taunts, zeroing in on your clit with his cruel fingers, pinching the poor pearly bud. It sets those thousands of nerve endings alight, fiery pinpricks making your knees wobble and quake.
“It’s yours! It’s yours, Si, I’m sorry”, you buckle and yield embarrassingly quickly, anything to make him take some pity on you.
“Yeah? Then you ought to know better than to flash what’s mine around, shouldn’t you?”
“I-I was just…”
“Yeah? Go on”
“I was mad at you. I went out with the girls. I drank. I danced it out-”
“Alone?” he asked, only this time the question lacked the severity he’d injected into the others. His sharp eyes softened somewhat, enough for you to recognize the little glimpses of hurt that showed. The kind that made your tongue turn bitter in your mouth and your throat feel like it might close up.
“Simon...of course.”
“But-“
“I took them off in the bathroom before getting into the cab, Si. I was going to surprise you but then I got mad all over again when I saw you…so yeah. It was a shitty thing to do but I kind of wanted to get back at you for a moment”, you admit with a wash of nauseating shame.
The man says nothing though you can see the relief cloud his features.
“ 's my own fault”, he releases his hold on your wrists, slipping his fingers in your hair and around the back of your neck to pull your face closer to his, his lips meeting yours at last.
The lingering taste of whisky settles on your tongue in the same way the taste of your many cherry daquiri’s settle on Simon’s. Boozy, heady and sweet. Your hands, now free to wander and roam, press flat against his chest, thick meaty muscle only a thin layer of cotton away under your palms. They trail lower, over the softer plane of his stomach and then to the waistband of his sweats around his hips.
“Get them off”, you mumble against his lips, slipping one hand into his sweats to find that you’re not the only one here not wearing underwear. Of course, it’s too big and stiff to cover with one hand so you have to start with cupping his balls, the grainy hair there scratching pleasantly against your palm. The hair at the base of his cock feels the same until things start to smoothen out when you get to the shaft. Sturdy and hot, you trail your hand up and up every inch, thumb finding the slippery tip all wet and only getting wetter with every glistening drop of precum. He withdraws for a short moment, yanking his t-shirt off over his head and then makes quick work of discarding his sweats too. The last time you’d been naked together feels eons ago despite it only having been 14 days.
When he dips back down, he’s even quicker to manhandle you, folding your legs up against your chest and as far apart as possible. Your folds part, unfurling, enough so that he can easily stare down at your wet hole, only getting wetter when he gathers the saliva in his mouth and spits a hot glob of it onto your pussy. The way your face twists in response might have fooled anyone else but Simon knows all too well how much you like it when he’s crude. When being gentle is substituted with something more unseemly but just as pleasurable, if not more.
“Simonnnn”, you drawl dumbly when the wet plap plap plap of him slapping his shaft down on your clit and coming away sticky sounds out. Your impatience goes unacknowledged as he fits his veiny cock between your plump folds, grinding it up and down in a slippery smooth motion, swollen tip catching on your swollen clit.
“I know I know. You’re not the only one whose been waiting for this”, he grunts without sympathy.
“Then hurry up”, you sass back.
Your skin had been so warm when you said it, enough to make a layer of sweat sheen down your back. But one look at Simon and the way the corner up his mouth twitches up into a smirk and ice strikes deep inside to hug to your bones. Pulling his hips back, his cock slips lower, notching against your waiting entrance and then, swiftly and without remorse, he plunges in.
All you can do is choke on a scream, choke and attempt to gulp down as much air as he’s punching out of your lungs.
“You’ll take it like this or not at all, understand?”
“Yes…yes- yes!”, you shudder and call out, both in answer and begging for more of his harsh thrusts.
“Guess I have no choice. Gotta be around more to make sure you’re not going to act up again”
“That- yeah. That’d w-work”, you whimper and whine.
For the next stretch of minutes nothing else is said, only a harmony of sighs and moans and gravelly grunts taking over. Your lower belly bulges with the outline of his cock and your ankles hang uselessly on his shoulders while Simon draws in and out of cunt, working with and against the way it tries to suck him in and squeeze.
It’s then that it occurs to him to lean down and suck the sensitive skin of your neck into his mouth, pulling wine stain bruises to the surface with ease.
“For the next brunch”, he huffs, then chuckling when he sees the way your blissed out eyes light up.
“More…please?”, you plead between airy gasps.
“You trying to show off to your friends?”
“Yes”, you reply, blunt and entirely too honest.
“Alright then”, he grins.
You’re like a slinky, purring feline under him as his mouth seeks out other places to mark – your neck, your shoulders, your breasts, your inner thighs as he leans in further until the undersides of your knees hang over his shoulders instead of your ankles.
“Baby, I think I’m almost there”, you whimper pitifully, your fingers curling into little fists where they press into Simon’s chest. Feeble and trembling.
“Go on then. Think you’ve been denied long enough, yeah?”
He says it like he’s not teetering on the edge himself, his cock aching to let loose and spew an obscene puddle of cum all over your insides. When you cry out and your cunt bears down on his cock just seconds later, that’s when he lets the façade strip away. His thrusts become uneven and stutter, jaw clenching tight and his short, blunt nails drag along the floor. It’s a desperate display, wanting to carry you through your orgasm all the way before he allows himself to enjoy his own.
Simon denies himself for as long as he can stand, the way you flutter around his cock turning softer and softer to show that you’ve reached the end of your own pleasure. That’s when he feeds his own urges. Fuck, he must be filling you to the brim as he starts to shoot hot, messy rope after rope inside your poor overstimulated cunt. It’s not like he’s had any time to steal away during his mission to jerk off. All of that fell to the very back of his mind but now, all backed up, it’s a blissful relief to spill inside you and stuff you full.
“Fuckkk, I missed this”, you groan, soaking up every drop he can expel.
Simon stays inside you when the last of his thrusts peter out, slowly scooping you up to rest on his front while he turns over to lay on his back.
“No one else gets me going the way you do”, he strokes your hair with a soft touch as things start to quieten.
“No one else gets me going the way you do”, you giggle back, your ear pressed against his scarred-up chest, eyelids growing heavy to the sound of his heartbeat.
“Promise I’ll cut back. Mean it this time, love”, he commits sincerely.
“You better. Or I'll come down to the base and say hi to the rest of the boys in a tinier dress and no panties.”
Simon chuckles. Your threat might be halfhearted but he knows better than to dismiss it entirely.
“Yes ma’am.”
18+ Simon 'Ghost' Riley x f! reader, established relationship, lil pinch of angst and assumed cheating (no actual cheating don’t worry), PIV sex, tipsy sex, rough sex, unprotected sex, and a tiny bit of dub con. WC:2.9K
Summary: At the end of every mission that calls him away for weeks at a time, Simon has coming home to you to look forward to. But there’s only so much loneliness you can take until you’re forced to act out.
Divider credit: @/cursed-carmine
You were really pushing it.
It’s 3.43AM by the time the cab pulls up, Simon barely budging from his spot on his chair as he listens to you drunkenly holler goodbye to your equally drunk pack of friends as they depart. The click clack of your heels on the cobblestones leading up to your front door makes his jaw clench, thick arms crossed over his broad chest, thicker legs filling out a pair of grey sweats, bare feet set apart.
When you manage to work your key into the lock and get the door open you jump a little at the sight of Simon sat there waiting for you in the almost dark, a half-drunk bottle of whiskey on the coffee table and just the one light on beside him. Usually, you would have bounded to him, so tipsy and bubbly as you pounce on to him, peppering a rain of kisses all over his face as he grunts in reply with a couple of soft pats on your ass.
This wasn’t one of those times.
All traces of that bouncy, excitable buzz you’d carried with you up to the door fizzles at the stern look on his face, one of your own taking over as you roll your eyes and let out a curt little ‘hmpf’. You tip your chin up, locking the door behind you, ready to make your way to the bathroom when he finally speaks up.
“How long are you going to keep this up?”
“Oh, so you can speak after all, huh? had me fooled.”
You turn your back on him, slipping your tired feet out of your heels before bending over to pick them up and place them on the shoe rack. You’ve barely set them down when you start at the sudden sound of Simon leaving his chair, the legs screeching against the floor from how quickly he’d gotten up and pushed it back.
In a moment he’s in front of you. Towering. Looming. Casting a shadow that swallows you whole.
“Sweetheart…”, though there’s no warmth or fondness there when he says it. It has the cadence of a warning more than anything else.
“Where the fuck are your panties?”
You bite down hard on the inside of your cheek, your eyes remaining sharp despite the fresh dews of sweat beading at the nape of your neck. Maybe you shouldn’t have bent over in a dress this short.
“I said”, he repeats, just as imposing as the first time. “Where. The fuck. Are your panties?”
This close, the smell of smoke, booze and the little wisps left of your perfume only tick him off even more. He can practically feel the beat of the deafening club music thumping on his skin as it had done yours, dancing in a room filled with strangers. Men eyeing you. Offering to buy you drinks. Trying to work their way in between you and your friends on the dance floor. Trying to coax you into a cab and back to their place.
Simon wasn't the jealous kind. When you’re big enough and skilled enough to beat someone’s ass in a myriad of ways it makes other men seem barely a threat. Them coming on to you? Not a bother. Even when he wasn’t there, he knew you knew how to take care of yourself. But you? Indulging them?
That was a problem.
“None. Of. Your. Business”, you seethe back.
Turning on your bare heel, you’re about to stomp away when one of those giant hands of his reaches out for your tiny wrist, pulling you back around to face him before he uses the other to yank up your tight little black dress.
He gets the hem up to your hips, the vein by his temple swelling and pulsing as he finds your pussy completely bare.
You didn’t…did you?
It’s hard to remain composed when all he can do it picture you sat there on one of those squeaky stools by the bar, sipping on a sugary cocktail with a little paper umbrella hanging over the rim of it as you part your legs a few inches to let the man sat beside you, likely the one to have bought you said drink, see you bare yourself for him.
You try to wring yourself free.
No use.
“Damnit, Simon, get off”.
That’s when he notices the peaks of your nipples showing through your dress too. On another day it would have excited him but now it has him roughly slipping his fingers into the neckline of your dress. He rips it fast. The band aid approach. The material rips down the middle, black stitching coming apart like tissue paper in his grip.
“SIMON, WHAT THE FUCK”, you scream at your forced undressing, arms coming up to hide your breasts though there’s hardly any use in doing so.
“What’s the matter? Didn’t you want to show yourself off?”
“NO!...I just…I just…”
“What? Come on. Out with it. Or did you not think that part through yet?”
It’s a entirely different kind of humiliation to be stripped bare like this in the middle of a fight. How can you stand your ground when you’re standing there completely naked?
“Well?”, he prompts again, even more acidic than the first time.
“I didn’t think you’d care”, you shoot back, letting your hands fall to your sides, fingers clenching into fists.
Despite everything his eyes fall to your body, like strings puppeteering his gaze. He shouldn’t be staring. He shouldn’t be ogling. He shouldn’t be letting the sight of you like this make his cock jump in his sweats.
He’s pissed after all.
And so are you.
All because he’d done it again.
Simon had promised to cut back on these kinds of missions. The ones that went on for weeks and required him to go dark. No communication outside of the team. Weeks of leaving you alone in your shared house, waiting for a text to say he’s still breathing.
He’d gotten back this evening. All of your things were still there. Only you were missing. It didn’t take much to deduce where you’d gone. Your makeup sat out in disarray on the vanity. The hanger in your closet where that tiny dress of yours had hung from was empty. The black stilettos also missing from the shoe rack. That Italian perfume, the one you reserve for nights out, still hung in the air.
He knew you’d seen all the messages too. The ones that came after two weeks of silence. Asking where you were. When you were coming home. So on and so on.
You had a right to be mad. He knew it.
But the thought of you feeling so lonely that you were willing to tease a bunch of strangers for attention made him want to force his fist through the heads of any man who’d dared to look.
Even if it was just looking and no touching, it didn’t feel even slightly better. Both just as acrid as the other to him.
“…You knew I was coming back. You didn’t have to do this”
“No actually, I never know when you’re coming back. I never knew you’d even gone this time until I came back and found your note, if you can even call it that, Simon. I deserved better than a little scrap of paper.”
“You know the kind of work I do.”
“You promised me you’d stop.”
“I don’t have much of a choice.”
“Yeah, that’s what you keep telling yourself”, you roll your eyes, crossing your arms over your naked chest.
“Even Price spends more time with his wife than you and I do. They barely ever leave the room, Simon! You should have seen all the hickeys on her body the last time we went out for brunch.”
He goes mute. Completely unreadable. You can’t bear it.
“I’m going to shower”, you try to take your chance to leave but he reaches for you again, this time he latches on to your upper arm, pulling you back to him.
“You’re not going anywhere”.
Simon's foot hooks behind your heel and he pulls it forward quick, upsetting your balance, sending you backwards, back hitting the carpeted floor, the air leaving your lungs with the blow.
You’re about to yell at him again, cuss him out good for knocking you over but there’s no time. He’s on you quick, getting down to cover your body with his, one hand gathering your wrists together and pinning them above your head.
The other makes for your cunt, cupping his hand over it and squeezing.
“It’s mine, right? Or have you forgotten?”
In his hot, none too gentle hold you’re reminded of all the times you’ve spread your legs for him and told him it was his. His pussy to fuck. His pussy to make a mess of. His pussy to own. That he’d take care of it best. Make it feel good, so good, and all you’d have to do was lay back or get down on all fours and let him. He’d been a man of his word in that regard. Paying your pussy all the attention you craved and more. Sometimes even overwhelming you with it.
“What happened to all that tough talk, huh? Speak up”, he taunts, zeroing in on your clit with his cruel fingers, pinching the poor pearly bud. It sets those thousands of nerve endings alight, fiery pinpricks making your knees wobble and quake.
“It’s yours! It’s yours, Si, I’m sorry”, you buckle and yield embarrassingly quickly, anything to make him take some pity on you.
“Yeah? Then you ought to know better than to flash what’s mine around, shouldn’t you?”
“I-I was just…”
“Yeah? Go on”
“I was mad at you. I went out with the girls. I drank. I danced it out-”
“Alone?” he asked, only this time the question lacked the severity he’d injected into the others. His sharp eyes softened somewhat, enough for you to recognize the little glimpses of hurt that showed. The kind that made your tongue turn bitter in your mouth and your throat feel like it might close up.
“Simon...of course.”
“But-“
“I took them off in the bathroom before getting into the cab, Si. I was going to surprise you but then I got mad all over again when I saw you…so yeah. It was a shitty thing to do but I kind of wanted to get back at you for a moment”, you admit with a wash of nauseating shame.
The man says nothing though you can see the relief cloud his features.
“ 's my own fault”, he releases his hold on your wrists, slipping his fingers in your hair and around the back of your neck to pull your face closer to his, his lips meeting yours at last.
The lingering taste of whisky settles on your tongue in the same way the taste of your many cherry daquiri’s settle on Simon’s. Boozy, heady and sweet. Your hands, now free to wander and roam, press flat against his chest, thick meaty muscle only a thin layer of cotton away under your palms. They trail lower, over the softer plane of his stomach and then to the waistband of his sweats around his hips.
“Get them off”, you mumble against his lips, slipping one hand into his sweats to find that you’re not the only one here not wearing underwear. Of course, it’s too big and stiff to cover with one hand so you have to start with cupping his balls, the grainy hair there scratching pleasantly against your palm. The hair at the base of his cock feels the same until things start to smoothen out when you get to the shaft. Sturdy and hot, you trail your hand up and up every inch, thumb finding the slippery tip all wet and only getting wetter with every glistening drop of precum. He withdraws for a short moment, yanking his t-shirt off over his head and then makes quick work of discarding his sweats too. The last time you’d been naked together feels eons ago despite it only having been 14 days.
When he dips back down, he’s even quicker to manhandle you, folding your legs up against your chest and as far apart as possible. Your folds part, unfurling, enough so that he can easily stare down at your wet hole, only getting wetter when he gathers the saliva in his mouth and spits a hot glob of it onto your pussy. The way your face twists in response might have fooled anyone else but Simon knows all too well how much you like it when he’s crude. When being gentle is substituted with something more unseemly but just as pleasurable, if not more.
“Simonnnn”, you drawl dumbly when the wet plap plap plap of him slapping his shaft down on your clit and coming away sticky sounds out. Your impatience goes unacknowledged as he fits his veiny cock between your plump folds, grinding it up and down in a slippery smooth motion, swollen tip catching on your swollen clit.
“I know I know. You’re not the only one whose been waiting for this”, he grunts without sympathy.
“Then hurry up”, you sass back.
Your skin had been so warm when you said it, enough to make a layer of sweat sheen down your back. But one look at Simon and the way the corner up his mouth twitches up into a smirk and ice strikes deep inside to hug to your bones. Pulling his hips back, his cock slips lower, notching against your waiting entrance and then, swiftly and without remorse, he plunges in.
All you can do is choke on a scream, choke and attempt to gulp down as much air as he’s punching out of your lungs.
“You’ll take it like this or not at all, understand?”
“Yes…yes- yes!”, you shudder and call out, both in answer and begging for more of his harsh thrusts.
“Guess I have no choice. Gotta be around more to make sure you’re not going to act up again”
“That- yeah. That’d w-work”, you whimper and whine.
For the next stretch of minutes nothing else is said, only a harmony of sighs and moans and gravelly grunts taking over. Your lower belly bulges with the outline of his cock and your ankles hang uselessly on his shoulders while Simon draws in and out of cunt, working with and against the way it tries to suck him in and squeeze.
It’s then that it occurs to him to lean down and suck the sensitive skin of your neck into his mouth, pulling wine stain bruises to the surface with ease.
“For the next brunch”, he huffs, then chuckling when he sees the way your blissed out eyes light up.
“More…please?”, you plead between airy gasps.
“You trying to show off to your friends?”
“Yes”, you reply, blunt and entirely too honest.
“Alright then”, he grins.
You’re like a slinky, purring feline under him as his mouth seeks out other places to mark – your neck, your shoulders, your breasts, your inner thighs as he leans in further until the undersides of your knees hang over his shoulders instead of your ankles.
“Baby, I think I’m almost there”, you whimper pitifully, your fingers curling into little fists where they press into Simon’s chest. Feeble and trembling.
“Go on then. Think you’ve been denied long enough, yeah?”
He says it like he’s not teetering on the edge himself, his cock aching to let loose and spew an obscene puddle of cum all over your insides. When you cry out and your cunt bears down on his cock just seconds later, that’s when he lets the façade strip away. His thrusts become uneven and stutter, jaw clenching tight and his short, blunt nails drag along the floor. It’s a desperate display, wanting to carry you through your orgasm all the way before he allows himself to enjoy his own.
Simon denies himself for as long as he can stand, the way you flutter around his cock turning softer and softer to show that you’ve reached the end of your own pleasure. That’s when he feeds his own urges. Fuck, he must be filling you to the brim as he starts to shoot hot, messy rope after rope inside your poor overstimulated cunt. It’s not like he’s had any time to steal away during his mission to jerk off. All of that fell to the very back of his mind but now, all backed up, it’s a blissful relief to spill inside you and stuff you full.
“Fuckkk, I missed this”, you groan, soaking up every drop he can expel.
Simon stays inside you when the last of his thrusts peter out, slowly scooping you up to rest on his front while he turns over to lay on his back.
“No one else gets me going the way you do”, he strokes your hair with a soft touch as things start to quieten.
“No one else gets me going the way you do”, you giggle back, your ear pressed against his scarred-up chest, eyelids growing heavy to the sound of his heartbeat.
“Promise I’ll cut back. Mean it this time, love”, he commits sincerely.
“You better. Or I'll come down to the base and say hi to the rest of the boys in a tinier dress and no panties.”
Simon chuckles. Your threat might be halfhearted but he knows better than to dismiss it entirely.
“Yes ma’am.”
18+ Simon 'Ghost' Riley x f! reader, established relationship, lil pinch of angst and assumed cheating (no actual cheating don’t worry), PIV sex, tipsy sex, rough sex, unprotected sex, and a tiny bit of dub con. WC:2.9K
Summary: At the end of every mission that calls him away for weeks at a time, Simon has coming home to you to look forward to. But there’s only so much loneliness you can take until you’re forced to act out.
Divider credit: @/cursed-carmine
You were really pushing it.
It’s 3.43AM by the time the cab pulls up, Simon barely budging from his spot on his chair as he listens to you drunkenly holler goodbye to your equally drunk pack of friends as they depart. The click clack of your heels on the cobblestones leading up to your front door makes his jaw clench, thick arms crossed over his broad chest, thicker legs filling out a pair of grey sweats, bare feet set apart.
When you manage to work your key into the lock and get the door open you jump a little at the sight of Simon sat there waiting for you in the almost dark, a half-drunk bottle of whiskey on the coffee table and just the one light on beside him. Usually, you would have bounded to him, so tipsy and bubbly as you pounce on to him, peppering a rain of kisses all over his face as he grunts in reply with a couple of soft pats on your ass.
This wasn’t one of those times.
All traces of that bouncy, excitable buzz you’d carried with you up to the door fizzles at the stern look on his face, one of your own taking over as you roll your eyes and let out a curt little ‘hmpf’. You tip your chin up, locking the door behind you, ready to make your way to the bathroom when he finally speaks up.
“How long are you going to keep this up?”
“Oh, so you can speak after all, huh? had me fooled.”
You turn your back on him, slipping your tired feet out of your heels before bending over to pick them up and place them on the shoe rack. You’ve barely set them down when you start at the sudden sound of Simon leaving his chair, the legs screeching against the floor from how quickly he’d gotten up and pushed it back.
In a moment he’s in front of you. Towering. Looming. Casting a shadow that swallows you whole.
“Sweetheart…”, though there’s no warmth or fondness there when he says it. It has the cadence of a warning more than anything else.
“Where the fuck are your panties?”
You bite down hard on the inside of your cheek, your eyes remaining sharp despite the fresh dews of sweat beading at the nape of your neck. Maybe you shouldn’t have bent over in a dress this short.
“I said”, he repeats, just as imposing as the first time. “Where. The fuck. Are your panties?”
This close, the smell of smoke, booze and the little wisps left of your perfume only tick him off even more. He can practically feel the beat of the deafening club music thumping on his skin as it had done yours, dancing in a room filled with strangers. Men eyeing you. Offering to buy you drinks. Trying to work their way in between you and your friends on the dance floor. Trying to coax you into a cab and back to their place.
Simon wasn't the jealous kind. When you’re big enough and skilled enough to beat someone’s ass in a myriad of ways it makes other men seem barely a threat. Them coming on to you? Not a bother. Even when he wasn’t there, he knew you knew how to take care of yourself. But you? Indulging them?
That was a problem.
“None. Of. Your. Business”, you seethe back.
Turning on your bare heel, you’re about to stomp away when one of those giant hands of his reaches out for your tiny wrist, pulling you back around to face him before he uses the other to yank up your tight little black dress.
He gets the hem up to your hips, the vein by his temple swelling and pulsing as he finds your pussy completely bare.
You didn’t…did you?
It’s hard to remain composed when all he can do it picture you sat there on one of those squeaky stools by the bar, sipping on a sugary cocktail with a little paper umbrella hanging over the rim of it as you part your legs a few inches to let the man sat beside you, likely the one to have bought you said drink, see you bare yourself for him.
You try to wring yourself free.
No use.
“Damnit, Simon, get off”.
That’s when he notices the peaks of your nipples showing through your dress too. On another day it would have excited him but now it has him roughly slipping his fingers into the neckline of your dress. He rips it fast. The band aid approach. The material rips down the middle, black stitching coming apart like tissue paper in his grip.
“SIMON, WHAT THE FUCK”, you scream at your forced undressing, arms coming up to hide your breasts though there’s hardly any use in doing so.
“What’s the matter? Didn’t you want to show yourself off?”
“NO!...I just…I just…”
“What? Come on. Out with it. Or did you not think that part through yet?”
It’s a entirely different kind of humiliation to be stripped bare like this in the middle of a fight. How can you stand your ground when you’re standing there completely naked?
“Well?”, he prompts again, even more acidic than the first time.
“I didn’t think you’d care”, you shoot back, letting your hands fall to your sides, fingers clenching into fists.
Despite everything his eyes fall to your body, like strings puppeteering his gaze. He shouldn’t be staring. He shouldn’t be ogling. He shouldn’t be letting the sight of you like this make his cock jump in his sweats.
He’s pissed after all.
And so are you.
All because he’d done it again.
Simon had promised to cut back on these kinds of missions. The ones that went on for weeks and required him to go dark. No communication outside of the team. Weeks of leaving you alone in your shared house, waiting for a text to say he’s still breathing.
He’d gotten back this evening. All of your things were still there. Only you were missing. It didn’t take much to deduce where you’d gone. Your makeup sat out in disarray on the vanity. The hanger in your closet where that tiny dress of yours had hung from was empty. The black stilettos also missing from the shoe rack. That Italian perfume, the one you reserve for nights out, still hung in the air.
He knew you’d seen all the messages too. The ones that came after two weeks of silence. Asking where you were. When you were coming home. So on and so on.
You had a right to be mad. He knew it.
But the thought of you feeling so lonely that you were willing to tease a bunch of strangers for attention made him want to force his fist through the heads of any man who’d dared to look.
Even if it was just looking and no touching, it didn’t feel even slightly better. Both just as acrid as the other to him.
“…You knew I was coming back. You didn’t have to do this”
“No actually, I never know when you’re coming back. I never knew you’d even gone this time until I came back and found your note, if you can even call it that, Simon. I deserved better than a little scrap of paper.”
“You know the kind of work I do.”
“You promised me you’d stop.”
“I don’t have much of a choice.”
“Yeah, that’s what you keep telling yourself”, you roll your eyes, crossing your arms over your naked chest.
“Even Price spends more time with his wife than you and I do. They barely ever leave the room, Simon! You should have seen all the hickeys on her body the last time we went out for brunch.”
He goes mute. Completely unreadable. You can’t bear it.
“I’m going to shower”, you try to take your chance to leave but he reaches for you again, this time he latches on to your upper arm, pulling you back to him.
“You’re not going anywhere”.
Simon's foot hooks behind your heel and he pulls it forward quick, upsetting your balance, sending you backwards, back hitting the carpeted floor, the air leaving your lungs with the blow.
You’re about to yell at him again, cuss him out good for knocking you over but there’s no time. He’s on you quick, getting down to cover your body with his, one hand gathering your wrists together and pinning them above your head.
The other makes for your cunt, cupping his hand over it and squeezing.
“It’s mine, right? Or have you forgotten?”
In his hot, none too gentle hold you’re reminded of all the times you’ve spread your legs for him and told him it was his. His pussy to fuck. His pussy to make a mess of. His pussy to own. That he’d take care of it best. Make it feel good, so good, and all you’d have to do was lay back or get down on all fours and let him. He’d been a man of his word in that regard. Paying your pussy all the attention you craved and more. Sometimes even overwhelming you with it.
“What happened to all that tough talk, huh? Speak up”, he taunts, zeroing in on your clit with his cruel fingers, pinching the poor pearly bud. It sets those thousands of nerve endings alight, fiery pinpricks making your knees wobble and quake.
“It’s yours! It’s yours, Si, I’m sorry”, you buckle and yield embarrassingly quickly, anything to make him take some pity on you.
“Yeah? Then you ought to know better than to flash what’s mine around, shouldn’t you?”
“I-I was just…”
“Yeah? Go on”
“I was mad at you. I went out with the girls. I drank. I danced it out-”
“Alone?” he asked, only this time the question lacked the severity he’d injected into the others. His sharp eyes softened somewhat, enough for you to recognize the little glimpses of hurt that showed. The kind that made your tongue turn bitter in your mouth and your throat feel like it might close up.
“Simon...of course.”
“But-“
“I took them off in the bathroom before getting into the cab, Si. I was going to surprise you but then I got mad all over again when I saw you…so yeah. It was a shitty thing to do but I kind of wanted to get back at you for a moment”, you admit with a wash of nauseating shame.
The man says nothing though you can see the relief cloud his features.
“ 's my own fault”, he releases his hold on your wrists, slipping his fingers in your hair and around the back of your neck to pull your face closer to his, his lips meeting yours at last.
The lingering taste of whisky settles on your tongue in the same way the taste of your many cherry daquiri’s settle on Simon’s. Boozy, heady and sweet. Your hands, now free to wander and roam, press flat against his chest, thick meaty muscle only a thin layer of cotton away under your palms. They trail lower, over the softer plane of his stomach and then to the waistband of his sweats around his hips.
“Get them off”, you mumble against his lips, slipping one hand into his sweats to find that you’re not the only one here not wearing underwear. Of course, it’s too big and stiff to cover with one hand so you have to start with cupping his balls, the grainy hair there scratching pleasantly against your palm. The hair at the base of his cock feels the same until things start to smoothen out when you get to the shaft. Sturdy and hot, you trail your hand up and up every inch, thumb finding the slippery tip all wet and only getting wetter with every glistening drop of precum. He withdraws for a short moment, yanking his t-shirt off over his head and then makes quick work of discarding his sweats too. The last time you’d been naked together feels eons ago despite it only having been 14 days.
When he dips back down, he’s even quicker to manhandle you, folding your legs up against your chest and as far apart as possible. Your folds part, unfurling, enough so that he can easily stare down at your wet hole, only getting wetter when he gathers the saliva in his mouth and spits a hot glob of it onto your pussy. The way your face twists in response might have fooled anyone else but Simon knows all too well how much you like it when he’s crude. When being gentle is substituted with something more unseemly but just as pleasurable, if not more.
“Simonnnn”, you drawl dumbly when the wet plap plap plap of him slapping his shaft down on your clit and coming away sticky sounds out. Your impatience goes unacknowledged as he fits his veiny cock between your plump folds, grinding it up and down in a slippery smooth motion, swollen tip catching on your swollen clit.
“I know I know. You’re not the only one whose been waiting for this”, he grunts without sympathy.
“Then hurry up”, you sass back.
Your skin had been so warm when you said it, enough to make a layer of sweat sheen down your back. But one look at Simon and the way the corner up his mouth twitches up into a smirk and ice strikes deep inside to hug to your bones. Pulling his hips back, his cock slips lower, notching against your waiting entrance and then, swiftly and without remorse, he plunges in.
All you can do is choke on a scream, choke and attempt to gulp down as much air as he’s punching out of your lungs.
“You’ll take it like this or not at all, understand?”
“Yes…yes- yes!”, you shudder and call out, both in answer and begging for more of his harsh thrusts.
“Guess I have no choice. Gotta be around more to make sure you’re not going to act up again”
“That- yeah. That’d w-work”, you whimper and whine.
For the next stretch of minutes nothing else is said, only a harmony of sighs and moans and gravelly grunts taking over. Your lower belly bulges with the outline of his cock and your ankles hang uselessly on his shoulders while Simon draws in and out of cunt, working with and against the way it tries to suck him in and squeeze.
It’s then that it occurs to him to lean down and suck the sensitive skin of your neck into his mouth, pulling wine stain bruises to the surface with ease.
“For the next brunch”, he huffs, then chuckling when he sees the way your blissed out eyes light up.
“More…please?”, you plead between airy gasps.
“You trying to show off to your friends?”
“Yes”, you reply, blunt and entirely too honest.
“Alright then”, he grins.
You’re like a slinky, purring feline under him as his mouth seeks out other places to mark – your neck, your shoulders, your breasts, your inner thighs as he leans in further until the undersides of your knees hang over his shoulders instead of your ankles.
“Baby, I think I’m almost there”, you whimper pitifully, your fingers curling into little fists where they press into Simon’s chest. Feeble and trembling.
“Go on then. Think you’ve been denied long enough, yeah?”
He says it like he’s not teetering on the edge himself, his cock aching to let loose and spew an obscene puddle of cum all over your insides. When you cry out and your cunt bears down on his cock just seconds later, that’s when he lets the façade strip away. His thrusts become uneven and stutter, jaw clenching tight and his short, blunt nails drag along the floor. It’s a desperate display, wanting to carry you through your orgasm all the way before he allows himself to enjoy his own.
Simon denies himself for as long as he can stand, the way you flutter around his cock turning softer and softer to show that you’ve reached the end of your own pleasure. That’s when he feeds his own urges. Fuck, he must be filling you to the brim as he starts to shoot hot, messy rope after rope inside your poor overstimulated cunt. It’s not like he’s had any time to steal away during his mission to jerk off. All of that fell to the very back of his mind but now, all backed up, it’s a blissful relief to spill inside you and stuff you full.
“Fuckkk, I missed this”, you groan, soaking up every drop he can expel.
Simon stays inside you when the last of his thrusts peter out, slowly scooping you up to rest on his front while he turns over to lay on his back.
“No one else gets me going the way you do”, he strokes your hair with a soft touch as things start to quieten.
“No one else gets me going the way you do”, you giggle back, your ear pressed against his scarred-up chest, eyelids growing heavy to the sound of his heartbeat.
“Promise I’ll cut back. Mean it this time, love”, he commits sincerely.
“You better. Or I'll come down to the base and say hi to the rest of the boys in a tinier dress and no panties.”
Simon chuckles. Your threat might be halfhearted but he knows better than to dismiss it entirely.
“Yes ma’am.”
Barry Sloane 😍
some price i made lately :)
a morning in italy~ cap price comm <3
GYAAATTTT GHOST???? CLAP CLAP CLAP CLAP CLAP YEEEOOOOWWCHHHH!!!!!!
18+ Michael 'Robby' Robinavitch x f! reader, daddy kink, dry humping, PIV sex, unprotected sex, public sex. WC:2.3K
A/N: Re-watched the last scene of season one, saw them all having a couple of drinks in the park after that hellish 15 hours and went, what if we fucked Robby there instead? Right out in the open and everything.
Divider credit: @/cursed-carmine
It's almost eerie how still and silent it is at this time, everyone else having retired to bed hours ago. A little like the whole world's left you and Robby behind to share this particular park bench in quiet comfort.
His hands are soft and still smell faintly of sanitizer as he holds one of yours. The whispering scent of antiseptic rests on his fleece green jacket too where you place your head cozily against his shoulder. And a maroon splotch of what's most likely dried blood colors the tip of his shoe where you nudge him playfully with the tip of your heels.
It's been rare these days but it's finally happened again - both of you finishing out your long shifts at your respective workplaces at the same time. That's why you were able to meet each other halfway at the park, sinking down onto the vacant bench for some rest before it it's time to schlep to the train station and back home.
Sometimes he brought beer. Sometimes you brought cider. Not today. Today you simply nuzzled him in peaceful delight and he did the same, both of you quietly reveling in your closeness. If you squeezed a little closer, you'd be on his lap.
Why not?
Shifting from your place next to him to on to him earns a throaty chuckle out of Robby as he lets you get settled nicely on his lap sideways.
The tip of your nose scratches gently against his beard and you wrap your hands around his neck, fingers skimming the grainy golden links of his necklace. His arms loop around your waist too, hands clasped together and resting on your hip.
"Can't remember the last time we had a chance to do this", you sigh.
"Do what?" Robby asks.
"Absolutely nothing".
Robby chuckles again in agreement. You've been missing each other for two weeks now, living together but always kept apart due to different work hours and shifts. One of you alone in bed on some mornings, the other alone in bed at night. This is the first time in a while where that won't be the case.
And suddenly, simply remembering that makes the sleepy haze that'd blanketed you in the last two hours lift away in a bursting gust.
You're together. Right now.
The most time you'd gotten to spend together in the last few weeks was so little.
Waiting for the bittersweet feeling of the mattress dipping on his side of the bed when he tries to sneak under the sheets without waking you was most of it. Bitter because it always happened fifteen or so minutes before your alarm was set to go off, keeping you from tangling your limbs with his and laze for hours like you'd like to. Or even something a little less restful, like you'd like to do just as much.
Now you have the time but home is still some ways away.
The way Robby warms your skin just by being close might have lulled you to sleep on another day. Right now, it makes you want to peel the layers of clothing between you away. His heartbeat against your cheek and his breath in your hair starts to make your toes tingle, curling and uncurling them restlessly. Enough to make you strike fast and hard.
"Daddy...?"
Robby goes still, his breath pausing in the middle of inhaling.
"Baby...?", he inquires slowly.
You've already given yourself away by uttering the word but that doesn't stop you from pretending like you haven't.
"There's something else we haven't been able to do lately", you tip your head up to meet his eyes.
Robby's already looking at you, his fingers digging into your hip.
"Yeah? what's that?"
He wants to hear you say it. He loves it when you're direct.
Before you answer you make sure to look away to survey the surroundings. There hasn't been anyone around since the two of you first sat down. No one nearby. No one in the distance. The park sleeps, the sound of the wind slipping between the trees and their gently rustling leaves. Even quieter is the sound of a little group of fluttering moths plinking against the glass of the only lamppost nearby. The light it casts is dim and flickers on occasion, the bulb probably nearing a burnout. It leaves the two of you shrouded mostly in shadow.
"No one's around", you tell him, turning back to look into his eyes.
Robby nods slowly, like he's wrestling with a part of himself that's yelling out that he ought to know better than to go ahead with something like this.
"Yeah. You're right about that", he answers, the other part of him that screams back 'well, that's no fun' winning the fight with bloodied knuckles and teeth to match.
"I've really missed you", you begin to squirm a little in his lap, deliberately trying to grind against him enough to make that cock of his awaken to stiff attention.
The feeling that wets the place between your legs is the same one that kept you up all those times. You tossed and turned in bed alone, your body refusing to reward the efforts of your own fingers to bring you over the edge.
He's here now though.
It'll be different this time.
"...Fuck", Robby grits his teeth, jaw tensing up as you shift some more, slipping out of sitting sideways in his lap to pressing each of your knees to the wood of the bench, framing his hips and bringing your face close to his. Your arms are still wrapped around his neck too, softly caressing his nape.
The switch in position makes your tight midi dress ride up and over your hips, bunching at the waist but the floor length wool coat you'd draped over it for the cold keeps from letting your ass hang out. They said temperatures were likely to drop during this time. If it had, you didn’t feel it. Not when you’re in this perfect little bubble with Robby.
From where he sits, Robby isn't denied the sight of your body, panties in full view as he stares between your legs, the way your soft, clothed pussy rubs against the cock shaped bump rousing in his pants.
"Fuck, we're really doing this huh? right here?"
"Right here, Daddy", you croon, your hips working with a little more effort each couple of seconds more than the last.
"Ought to punish you for this, you know. How'd you get like this, huh? How’d my good girl get so naughty?"
"Yeah? you gonna spank me?", you giggle.
"Doesn't sound like a punishment when you say it. But I can't just let you off the hook either".
In the same breath, one large hand lands right on your ass, the layer of your overcoat doing nothing to soften the slap.
"Oh!"
The sting ripples through you, a pleasant bite of heat that has you bucking your hips faster, anything to make more pressure press down on your swelling clit.
"Again...please", you whimper into his neck, gasping with glee when another hit lands on your ass.
"Daddy, I'm so fucking wet for you.", you whine softly though all the feelings toiling inside you are far from quiet.
"Heh, I know, angel. Can feel you getting all sloppy through those little panties of yours. You like making a mess all over my pants, don't you?"
"Wanna make a mess on your cock too..."
"Fucking hell, keep talking like that".
Robby unbuckles his belt in a clumsy flurry and you help him with the rest, popping open the button on his pants and yanking his zip down a little harder than was necessary. Well, he wasn't complaining. With the way things are heating up, you have a feeling he'd be quite forgiving even if you'd somehow pulled it right off.
Only then you notice the way you're salivating, spit pooling in your mouth like a dog anticipating a treat as you sneak your hand under the front of his boxers and get his cock out.
There's wetness, you feel it alongside the warmth and it's impossible not to help yourself to the little dribble of precum that rubs off on the pad of your thumb, sucking it like hard candy, getting it all over your taste buds and down the back of your throat.
"Tastes good, daddy. Can't wait to have it dripping out of me"
"Me neither. C'mon baby, don't tease daddy. Put it in like a good girl".
His hands lift your hips and one of yours rests on his shoulder for balance, using the other other to rub his wet tip against your needy clit, whining like you're not the one purposely torturing yourself as you move it lower. His tip glides along your sticky folds, parting them and making its way to your hole as you slowly lower yourself down on his length.
"If anyone fucking walks in on us, I'm killing them. I'm fucking killing them, oh my god, you're perfect...you're so fucking warm. It's going to break my heart pulling out of this pussy"
It's a little hard to laugh at the irony of him being a life saver for a living when his cock's pushing at your walls in all the right ways. You start to bounce, the sound of a lone car passing by somewhere in the distance behind Robby doing nothing to make you slow down.
Let them see.
Let them gawk and point and gasp and sneer even if they had somehow noticed. Neither of you cared right now.
All the slick that leaked from between your legs makes it so easy to stroke his cock with a smoothness he's only ever felt when he's inside you, a wet smack sounding out every time you come down onto his base.
"Missed you so bad, daddy. Couldn't even stand to wait to get home first...it's sick how much I fucking crave you", you gasp and pant.
"I'm no better, baby", he replies between labored breaths, his hand on your breast as he squeezes it, thumb swiping back and forth over the hard little nub of your nipple turning tight behind your dress.
"Know how often you've been on my mind? you make it so hard to be professional when I'd rather be home fucking you stupid and sore like I want to"
You love it when he gets like this. Like you're this potent thing that makes his pupils dilate large enough to swallow up all the whisky brown in his eyes. Like all it takes for his composure to collapse like cracked concrete turning to dust is a tap of your finger.
"We need- we need to get away. Just ah! just for a few d-days? I can't go back to us barely seeing each other again", you stutter and moan and bounce like it's all you know how to do.
"Yeah? Some…somewhere nice and private...the cabin?", he suggests, skillful hands kneading your tits nice and not so gently.
The log cabin left to you by a generous uncle and aunt a few years back. You feel silly not having thought of it yourself but you grant yourself some grace in the moment. It's not easy to make your mind work at full capacity when you've got a thick, sturdy cock rutting in and out of you nice and hard.
It's a wonderfully cozy and private abode. Thick, leafy trees that tower. Birds that chirp together in a melodious chorus. Soft flowers of all shades and sizes scented like perfume. Maybe you'll get to watch Robby be all rugged and outdoorsy too, swinging an axe to chop some wood to get the fireplace going while he smells like cedar and sweat. You could watch him in one of those thin, strappy sundresses that stop halfway down your thighs and blow up over your hips with the slightest breeze. Your bare feet padding around the wood of the cabin, your lips fixed on the rim of a cold glass of sweet tea.
And then there's all the fucking you'll get to do.
Uninterrupted, constant, unrelenting fucking.
"Yes. No one around for fucking miles. No one to hear me screaming your name"
"Shit, you keep saying stuff like that and I might have to convince you that we shouldn’t come back".
You grin.
"So, we’re going? promise?"
"It's a promise, sweetheart", he grins back.
"Oh god, daddy, mmpf!"
It'd snuck up on you. Your orgasm had been circling around you in the last few moments, finally pouncing to climb up your spine like a long, lit fuse, sparks ascending higher and higher.
When it goes off you squeeze. Eyes screw shut, fingers curling into Robby's shoulders, your knees pressing into his hips and your pussy sucking hard enough to wring out his cock. The result is quick, exactly what he needed to shoot sputtering loads of his cum all the way inside you. Hot and nearing copious. All those weeks of no sex, you're delighted for the chance to drain all that built up cum out of his balls and into your still pulsing pussy.
Spent and still connected together, there's an unspoken understanding that you still need this closeness. at least for a little while longer. At least until you feel him turn soft enough to let slip some for his cum out of you.
"I'm going up to HR and applying for leave first thing tomorrow", you tell him, cheek resting on his shoulder, lips kissing his neck.
"Y' read my mind, baby."
OH CAPTAIN MY CAPTAIN!
Men, it really took me a long time to draw his face, it always came out awful. I've been working on this drawing for a month and I only finished it yesterday, haha
18+ Landlord! John Price x Tenant! f! reader, mentions of a toxic situationship with another man, nudes, age gap, oral sex(f), PIV sex, unprotected sex WC:4.1K
Summary: Catching you in the middle of sending nudes to the wrong man should be one of the worst nights of both yours and your secretly smitten landlord's life. That is until a vulnerable moment shared between you two leads to something more.
Divider credit: @/cursed-carmine
"What the fuck are you doing?"
Is one of the last things he thought he'd ever say if he found you half naked in his bed.
Your phone clatters noisily to the floor from where you were holding it at arm's length away from your chest, camera still on as your newly freed arm joins the other in covering up your bare tits.
"Jesus fucking- John! close your damn eyes!", you yell.
"Me?! what are you- what are you doing in here?", he yells back but obliges anyway, clamping a hand over his eyes.
Before he had walked in, you had positioned yourself with your knees bent and your legs folded under you, your ass resting comfortably on your bare heels. Perfectly cute and flirty for the camera. Now you whip around frantically to grab one of his pillows from behind you and paste it to your front, the bottom half of it squeezed between your thighs to shield your sheer panties and the top half covering your tits better than your arms could as you wrap them around the plush middle.
How the hell were you to explain that the lighting in his bedroom was far better for taking nudes than in your own?
"Y-you said you'd be back around twelve?"
"I got off early. Now what the-"
"Oh, what does it look like, John?", you cut him off in frustration.
He says nothing as you watch his Adams apple bob in his throat, gulping nervously.
"...Derek?" he asks in a tone so hushed and so small for a man of his stature.
Oh God.
You let your face drop into his pillow, half ready to scream into it.
You're never drinking gin ever again.
Ever since you'd drunkenly confided in John about your on again off again situationship with Derek, he'd vehemently advised you to drop him.
You knew he was right. Derek was no good for you and the longer you let him sink his hooks into you, the longer you'll stew in the thorny anguish that came with his company.
The man simply didn't care unless you opened your legs for him.
He had a talent for making you feel worse about yourself with every visit. Leaving you to pick your clothes up off the floor and walk yourself home when he was done with you, stinking of sex that made you feel more turmoiled than satisfied.
But you always crawled back for more.
Just like now. Stripping down only minutes after the dreaded "u up?" popped up on your screen. God, you're pathetic.
"....yes", you answer your poor landlord, shame bubbling to a boiling point in your belly, the toxic vapors reaching up into your throat like thick smoke. Any longer and you might actually choke on the feeling.
"I'm so sorry, John. Coming in here was way over the line", you apologize with a little sniffle.
Slowly, he lets slip the hand from his eyes though he's gentleman enough to keep his gaze fixed on the floor.
"You're just going to hate yourself after", he warns as gently as he can. It's what needs to be said though he doesn't want you to feel any worse than you already do after all.
"Too late", you reply, glum.
"You already sent him the pictures?", John's eyes widen with alert and worry.
You jump to reassure him. "No! no... you... you caught me just in time I guess."
You can feel yourself coming down like a house of cards in his bed, fat tears, the kind you can't blink or sniff away, about to dampen your cheeks.
"Oh, that's good then", he comments, very cautiously allowing his gaze to climb a little higher.
It really shouldn't make his cock ache as much as it does to see you like this. Well, he supposes it should though the circumstances make him feel guilty about it.
Here you are, crying in his bed and all he can do is think about is giving you a better reason to shed some tears like fucking you into his mattress till you turn delirious on cock.
"I'll uh, get you something to wear", he breaks away from the spot he'd been frozen in, quietly but desperately making himself busy to distract himself as he pulls at his dresser.
'It's washed. It'll fit', is all he thinks when he gathers one of his casual t-shirts from the stack, gingerly offering it to you as he pastes his gaze to the ceiling next.
Timidly you shift, closing your fingers around the soft grey cotton as you accept his t-shirt.
"...thank you...", you sniffle, slowly tugging it on until you're able to cover yourself up somewhat, the hem of his t-shirt resting halfway down your thighs. You even attempt to make his bed as you stand up, pulling the covering sheet taut until the wrinkles stretch out and disappear. You fluff his pillow and place it back against the headboard too, just like it had been when you first snuck in.
"You don't need to do that", John tells you kindly.
"It's quite literally the least I can do", you reply.
Gaze no longer fixed on the ceiling, John looks at you. Really looks at you and he can feel himself dripping with both sympathy for you and well...he's just glad he's wearing his black slacks today.
"Listen, why don't you sit down? let's talk about it".
You can't help the fleeting, faint smile that twinges at the corner of your mouth. That's so like him. Always ready to lend an ear. Always ready to extend some support and comfort.
"What more is there to say about it?", you ask though you still steer yourself to the foot of his bed where he pats down a spot for you to sit on. John joins you by your side though he's polite enough to keep a good few inches of space between you two.
"So. He called?"
"He messaged".
"And he asked for pictures?"
"I mean not exactly but trust me, it was strongly implied."
"Right. And how did you feel about that?"
You don't even remember placing your hands in your lap but there they were now when you look down, fingers anxiously picking at each other with your nails.
"I...I guess I...just wanted someone to like me. I wanted to feel wanted too... and desirable, you know?", you peek up at him through your lashes, only for a moment before your eyes drop back down to watch your nervous fingers at work.
You might not pick up on it but the words 'I can give you all of that and so much more', resonates with a booming echo in John's head, like a deafening blast of TNT contained within his skull though his lips remain unmoving.
"I don't even think the pictures came out that good", you let out a dry, humorless chuckle next. Right now, it's the only way you can open your mouth without screaming.
Your landlord says nothing, a thick silence hanging in the air for a few painful moments before he says, "can't believe that".
You're almost certain you heard the man wrong until your lips part and your mouth hangs open when he leaves his spot beside you. Casually, he retrieves your phone off the floor and returns to your side, thumb swiping through the newest pictures in your gallery.
"John?? what are you doing?", you utter, completely aghast.
Naturally, your eyes go wide with shock as the man who'd rented out the spare bedroom in his home to you a year ago calmly peruses the pictures of you with your tits out.
And then, he says,
"Can tell you're not into it", he surmises correctly, your stomach dropping as you remember how hard you had tried to plaster on your best fake smile in the hopes of convincing Derek.
"What...whAT the fuck do you think you're doing?!"
You leap out of your spot and on to John, desperately trying to snatch your phone away from the man but he's too quick and strong for you, wrapping his free arm around your waist to keep you restrained in his lap, your phone out of your reach.
"Relax relax! Settle down, okay? there's no need for that."
"No need? JOHN, are you fucking insane?"
"No more than you letting this little boy treat you like some kind of doormat ready to let him get his dick wet whenever he happens to remember that you exist."
That's exactly what it takes to make you go still in his lap, hands dropping, legs no longer kicking, throat dry.
Before you can croak out some painful little sob, before you can let the hurt ruin you and demand him how he could speak to you like that he asks, straightforward and simple.
"Don't you want to be treated like you should?"
There's some sincere heartache there when he asks it. You know the feeling so well that you recognize it instantly as he questions you. It's more than apparent that he feels for you, genuinely unable to understand why you put yourself through this. The truth is, you don't know either but you can't seem to find the strength to answer him. So he continues,
"Don't you want someone who wants to keep you around long after they've cum inside you? Not send you hobbling back home at four in the fucking morning and not even text back for weeks? Don't you want to be liked? to feel good? to put all that shit you've been settling for behind you for good?"
You're speechless, big eyes hopelessly lost in John's intense gaze.
"...how about for someone who's losing it just seeing you in his clothes?" he asks pointedly, his eyes dragging over the sight of your body in his t-shirt before his gaze connects with yours again. Completely absent of any subtlety. There was no room left for subtlety now, he supposes.
"Y-you? with me? you want that?"
John smiles and its effect is instant. One of those kind smiles he reserves for you, all soft and wonderfully reassuring. The type that makes you feel like everything's going to be alright.
"Yeah. So much that, well. I might be pushing papers now but you remember what my work was before that, right?", he asks, waiting patiently for you to muster up a nod that signals that you're on the same page before he continues.
"So much that I wanted to pay that little prick a visit. Really give him what he deserved for what he's put you through...made it all the way up to his door once. Almost knocked too. Turned away just in time when I heard you on the other side. Didn't want you to see that side of me...you've already put up with enough unpleasantness thanks to one man."
You stare. It's like someone's yanked a vital plug right out of its socket in your mind, words scrambling on your tongue. With great effort you're able to spit something half coherent out.
"John...I don't- oh my god..."
A humorless chuckle to rival your own leaves his lips, his eyes set on the floor, shaking his head.
"Guess I'm the one who's really crossed the line, huh?", he hands your phone back to you, eyes still avoiding your own.
Somehow, you manage to take it, your whole body overcome with a bone deep wash of pins and needles but you don't hold it for long. Letting your phone clatter back down onto the floor for a second time, you raise your hands to frame his cheeks, beard pleasantly scratchy on your palms. When your lips press against his he's surprised alright, eyes wide as you let out a muffled little moan, your tongue finding his.
John Price had ticked so many of your boxes when you began living together. Kind. Reliable. Mature. Mild mannered. Attractive. The list goes on. You just never supposed he'd want someone younger like yourself. You never thought he'd ever see you as anything more than his tenant. The sweet girl he shared a roof with and nothing more. Never had he eluded that you might have been his type. And let's not forget the risk of getting kicked out if you made a move yourself when there was nothing to suggest that he liked you like that.
The man kept you fed. Kept you warm. Kept you safe and happy and cared for under his roof. And he always looked good doing it too.
It's been mere moments but being with a real man already feels far too good to waste a single second more without him.
"Take your clothes off, John", you rasp, when your lips part, already unbuttoning his dress shirt to help him get it done quicker.
He doesn't question it, a little caught off guard with how swiftly things have developed but he doesn't need to be told twice, fingers pulling at his zipper as the two of you scramble up his bed.
"Something I said?", he adds to the building tension, the nice kind, as you manage to pull your panties off and let them fall to the floor, eyes eagerly set on the sight of his cock springing free as his boxers join your underwear in a heap. His t-shirt, you make sure to keep on however.
"You could say that", you grin, hands resting on his broad, hairy chest as you kiss him again, keeping him pinned under you with your knees on either side of his hips.
But not for long.
In a quick but careful flip, John gets you on your back, making you gasp as he takes his place on top of you.
"Nice of you to try taking the lead but I'm going to be taking care of you tonight, alright? 'fraid I can't take no for an answer on that."
You can only gawk for a few moments, lips eventually shaping into a pleasantly surprised smile as you settle into your new position.
"Okay. Let me have it".
The second he starts to kiss your neck; it's already a vast difference to what you've been settling for with Derek. Feeling John descend your body with more kisses down your chest and stomach as he pushes the hem of his t-shirt up over your tits, is like a desperate prayer being answered.
John doesn't rush. He doesn't huff and groan in annoyance. He doesn't grab too hard and bruise. He doesn't cuss about you taking too long to get to his dick.
He treats you with decency.
His lips are gentle and his fingers roam and linger with interest. Little whispers about how beautiful you are warm your skin and make your nipples perk up, soft moans falling from your lips when he drags his knuckles over the sensitive peaks.
You're not used to this. Having someone take their time with you feels so alien but oh so welcome at the same time. It's almost embarrassing in a way how your poor deprived body trembles from the affection you've been denied for too long.
It feels even better when his bearded chin meets the tuft of your bush, his nose dipping down to suck in a deep breath of your scent before his lips peck at your clit so sweetly it makes your hips twitch.
"You ready for this?", John makes sure to check, peering up at you from between your legs. You figure the best way to answer him is to bend your knees and lay your legs over his shoulders to present your pussy. Wet and spread out and ready.
"Go ahead. Please", you reply, one of your hands coyly tugging on a tendril of your hair that rests by your breast.
The smile that takes shape on his face is so gleeful, like he's earned some kind of prize that he's been longing for. Bled and sweated and cried for. Being looked at in that way makes you feel so utterly cherished. It's a feeling you could definitely get used to.
When his tongue rolls over your clit it makes your hips jolt, twitching, muscles clenching. Mixed with arousal is a heaping sense of relief. He's going to take care of you. He's going to seek out that lonely ache that's been pulsing inside, the one that's gone ignored up until now and do something about it.
John's lips closing around your little bud makes you sigh and moan, your hands travelling low to find his hair and fix your fingers in it with some light tugging.
"John...that's really nice. Really really nice", you admit.
A few more sucks and he takes your praise as his cue to make more use of his tongue, licking up and down those slick folds of yours until you start to buck in to his face. You can feel him chuckle into your inner thigh shortly after and it tickles, enough to distract you before you're pleasantly taken by surprise by his tongue slipping past to tease your little hole.
Maybe you're just sensitive from all the neglect. Or maybe he's just that good because you're nearing the precipice already, something turning tight and taut in your belly so quickly that all you can do to warn him is throw your head back and whine out his name.
He'd talk you through it. He'd love to do that but a mouthful of you cumming on his tongue is far too sweet to pass up. Face wet, he remains in place, taking each buck of your hips into his mouth, lips sucking until he feels the base of your palm pushing weakly against his forehead.
Pulling away, John makes sure to check if you’re okay and tries not to let it stroke his ego when he sees the state of you, chest heaving, breath short and labored. All because he paid a little attention to your sweet cunt.
"Yeah? was that too much for you?", he can't help but tease.
For the meantime all you can do is shudder and pant, your palm flattened over your left breast to feel your heartbeat thump behind your ribcage.
"Fucking hell, John", you finally manage between breaths, a lazy, satisfied smile tugging at your lips.
"Get up here already."
He's quick to follow through, pulling himself free before you're face to face again. You can smell yourself on his beard. Fuck, you can see it too, the wetness coating the thick, bristly hairs of his greying beard. It makes you feel a little self conscious having made such a mess on him but it doesn't last long once you see the tip of his tongue come out to swipe along his wet bottom lip.
"You better get used to this. I know I will. Taste's so good, you're gonna have to pry me out from there with a crowbar".
You laugh, a little snort sneaking in there too because it sounds so ridiculous.
But what makes your body ripple with heat is how much it sounds like a promise too.
"You are something else, Captain. Now get over here and fuck me."
"As the lady wishes", he obliges, an incredibly endearing, dorky charm about him that you liked to see slip out from time to time.
As John moves closer, you notice a damp little trickle on the sheets where his pelvis had been resting. When you see the thin string of precum hanging off the tip on his cock, you realize where it must have come from.
His cock is sizeable. That much you'd already guessed during the times he wore his sweatpants to have breakfast with you before work. But seeing it completely bare was something else. Thick and curved, the hair at his base and on his balls makes you excited to feel them too. His belly is soft and hairy as well. As are his thighs though you know all around him is some serious muscle packed underneath.
Eagerly you grab his arm and pull him down with you, shuffling yourselves into the right position so that his hard cock presses against your wet, waiting pussy.
"Now. Please. Now" you beg, prompting him to reach down between your slick bodies and guide his cock to you.
When he slips in it's so right. He's not forceful nor uncoordinated. He lets you take him in with patience.
He never breaks away from your face either, closely watching your reactions. Under it all you know he has to be pleased too when he sees your jaw hang open all slack, only needy little moans bubbling up from your throat.
And when he starts to move, he seeks your hand out, taking your fingers between his own, pinning them there by your head. It's so reassuring. An unspoken understanding that he's going to take care of you. So much better than anyone before him.
John doesn't fuck you like an object. You know the man is more than capable of it but that's not how he treats you in this moment.
He makes love to you like you're the only precious thing in his life, cock plunging in and out of you steadily. Like you're the only good that's ever come by him in all his years. Someone so darling and so dear to be pleasured the right way. Your bliss is his biggest reward.
"Oh, John oh that's amazing. Fuck I can't believe I've been missing out on this for an entire yea.r"
"Guess we gotta make up for lost time", he grunts back, his other hand sloping up your waist and to your breast, squeezing it nice and with a kind of roughness you would really like to feel more of.
"Oh, yes we do", you agree.
Slow, steady thrusting, though not too gentle, he works you so expertly, squeezing more and more delightful sounds out from between your pretty lips. You're pleased to hear the ragged grunts he lets out too, all because of the way that your tight pussy wraps around his aching cock.
"John, please tell me you're close because I'm-"
"Me too", he cuts you off, his thrusts starting to build in intensity.
"I can cum inside, right? I'm sorry- told myself I wouldn't bring it up- not during our first time but shit, I gotta-"
"Yes. I want you to cum inside I really fucking do", you grant him hasty but wholly sincere permission.
"Thank fuck", he utters with relief.
Free hand slipping between your sweaty bodies, you circle your swollen clit nice and quick, stirring all of that delicious pressure, building and building and building until-
The feeling of him cumming inside you carries you through the wicked snap of your orgasm. Hot, viscous wetness shoots out in ropes persistently, so much that you're not surprised to feel it find its way out of you from around John's cock.
It's at this particular part of having sex that you're usually, and not so kindly, urged out of bed. After serving your "purpose" as Derek saw it, it was like he couldn't wait to get rid of you.
Actually, it was exactly that. He could not wait to get rid of you.
That's not how you want this particular encounter end, however.
It's why you take it upon yourself to wrap your legs around John's waist, ankles locked together down the small of his back. Despite already agreeing to having him cum inside, you feel the need to make sure that he does and that he stays long enough for the both of you to enjoy it through the come down. John might be a strong man but there's no breaking out of the hold you've got on him right now.
"Don't worry baby, I'm not going anywhere", he teases, sensing your whispering apprehension, his forehead coming down to rest against yours.
"Just making sure", you answer with a giggle.
"Oh, before I forget."
From where you're both positioned on his bed, John's able to reach down and pick your phone up from where you'd discarded it earlier, his cock still very much buried all the way inside you.
Once the device lights up with a press of his finger, he holds it up to you and has you press in your passcode to unlock it.
"John, what are you doing?", you ask once he's granted access.
"Just think it would be rude if we left Derek on read."
You watch on and get the gist as he pulls up your camera, your cheeks burning as he manages to pull back enough and snap a picture of his cock still in you, cum and cream all over the you both.
"Here," he hands it back to you to do the honors.
For a moment, you stall, really considering if you ought to go ahead with this.
And then you remember just how irredeemable Derek is and it's enough to make you punch in a quick 'busy', to caption the filthy picture, pressing send with a grin full of perverse excitement.
"Don't think I'll be hearing from him ever again", you chuckle with relief, watching on as John places your phone aside.
"That's good news. We ought to celebrate", he offers.
"Yeah? what do you have in mind?"
John grins.
"More of this", he suggests, playfully patting at your mound.
"That's exactly what I was hoping you'd say", you smile back.
18+ Landlord! John Price x Tenant! f! reader, mentions of a toxic situationship with another man, nudes, age gap, oral sex(f), PIV sex, unprotected sex WC:4.1K
Summary: Catching you in the middle of sending nudes to the wrong man should be one of the worst nights of both yours and your secretly smitten landlord's life. That is until a vulnerable moment shared between you two leads to something more.
Divider credit: @/cursed-carmine
"What the fuck are you doing?"
Is one of the last things he thought he'd ever say if he found you half naked in his bed.
Your phone clatters noisily to the floor from where you were holding it at arm's length away from your chest, camera still on as your newly freed arm joins the other in covering up your bare tits.
"Jesus fucking- John! close your damn eyes!", you yell.
"Me?! what are you- what are you doing in here?", he yells back but obliges anyway, clamping a hand over his eyes.
Before he had walked in, you had positioned yourself with your knees bent and your legs folded under you, your ass resting comfortably on your bare heels. Perfectly cute and flirty for the camera. Now you whip around frantically to grab one of his pillows from behind you and paste it to your front, the bottom half of it squeezed between your thighs to shield your sheer panties and the top half covering your tits better than your arms could as you wrap them around the plush middle.
How the hell were you to explain that the lighting in his bedroom was far better for taking nudes than in your own?
"Y-you said you'd be back around twelve?"
"I got off early. Now what the-"
"Oh, what does it look like, John?", you cut him off in frustration.
He says nothing as you watch his Adams apple bob in his throat, gulping nervously.
"...Derek?" he asks in a tone so hushed and so small for a man of his stature.
Oh God.
You let your face drop into his pillow, half ready to scream into it.
You're never drinking gin ever again.
Ever since you'd drunkenly confided in John about your on again off again situationship with Derek, he'd vehemently advised you to drop him.
You knew he was right. Derek was no good for you and the longer you let him sink his hooks into you, the longer you'll stew in the thorny anguish that came with his company.
The man simply didn't care unless you opened your legs for him.
He had a talent for making you feel worse about yourself with every visit. Leaving you to pick your clothes up off the floor and walk yourself home when he was done with you, stinking of sex that made you feel more turmoiled than satisfied.
But you always crawled back for more.
Just like now. Stripping down only minutes after the dreaded "u up?" popped up on your screen. God, you're pathetic.
"....yes", you answer your poor landlord, shame bubbling to a boiling point in your belly, the toxic vapors reaching up into your throat like thick smoke. Any longer and you might actually choke on the feeling.
"I'm so sorry, John. Coming in here was way over the line", you apologize with a little sniffle.
Slowly, he lets slip the hand from his eyes though he's gentleman enough to keep his gaze fixed on the floor.
"You're just going to hate yourself after", he warns as gently as he can. It's what needs to be said though he doesn't want you to feel any worse than you already do after all.
"Too late", you reply, glum.
"You already sent him the pictures?", John's eyes widen with alert and worry.
You jump to reassure him. "No! no... you... you caught me just in time I guess."
You can feel yourself coming down like a house of cards in his bed, fat tears, the kind you can't blink or sniff away, about to dampen your cheeks.
"Oh, that's good then", he comments, very cautiously allowing his gaze to climb a little higher.
It really shouldn't make his cock ache as much as it does to see you like this. Well, he supposes it should though the circumstances make him feel guilty about it.
Here you are, crying in his bed and all he can do is think about is giving you a better reason to shed some tears like fucking you into his mattress till you turn delirious on cock.
"I'll uh, get you something to wear", he breaks away from the spot he'd been frozen in, quietly but desperately making himself busy to distract himself as he pulls at his dresser.
'It's washed. It'll fit', is all he thinks when he gathers one of his casual t-shirts from the stack, gingerly offering it to you as he pastes his gaze to the ceiling next.
Timidly you shift, closing your fingers around the soft grey cotton as you accept his t-shirt.
"...thank you...", you sniffle, slowly tugging it on until you're able to cover yourself up somewhat, the hem of his t-shirt resting halfway down your thighs. You even attempt to make his bed as you stand up, pulling the covering sheet taut until the wrinkles stretch out and disappear. You fluff his pillow and place it back against the headboard too, just like it had been when you first snuck in.
"You don't need to do that", John tells you kindly.
"It's quite literally the least I can do", you reply.
Gaze no longer fixed on the ceiling, John looks at you. Really looks at you and he can feel himself dripping with both sympathy for you and well...he's just glad he's wearing his black slacks today.
"Listen, why don't you sit down? let's talk about it".
You can't help the fleeting, faint smile that twinges at the corner of your mouth. That's so like him. Always ready to lend an ear. Always ready to extend some support and comfort.
"What more is there to say about it?", you ask though you still steer yourself to the foot of his bed where he pats down a spot for you to sit on. John joins you by your side though he's polite enough to keep a good few inches of space between you two.
"So. He called?"
"He messaged".
"And he asked for pictures?"
"I mean not exactly but trust me, it was strongly implied."
"Right. And how did you feel about that?"
You don't even remember placing your hands in your lap but there they were now when you look down, fingers anxiously picking at each other with your nails.
"I...I guess I...just wanted someone to like me. I wanted to feel wanted too... and desirable, you know?", you peek up at him through your lashes, only for a moment before your eyes drop back down to watch your nervous fingers at work.
You might not pick up on it but the words 'I can give you all of that and so much more', resonates with a booming echo in John's head, like a deafening blast of TNT contained within his skull though his lips remain unmoving.
"I don't even think the pictures came out that good", you let out a dry, humorless chuckle next. Right now, it's the only way you can open your mouth without screaming.
Your landlord says nothing, a thick silence hanging in the air for a few painful moments before he says, "can't believe that".
You're almost certain you heard the man wrong until your lips part and your mouth hangs open when he leaves his spot beside you. Casually, he retrieves your phone off the floor and returns to your side, thumb swiping through the newest pictures in your gallery.
"John?? what are you doing?", you utter, completely aghast.
Naturally, your eyes go wide with shock as the man who'd rented out the spare bedroom in his home to you a year ago calmly peruses the pictures of you with your tits out.
And then, he says,
"Can tell you're not into it", he surmises correctly, your stomach dropping as you remember how hard you had tried to plaster on your best fake smile in the hopes of convincing Derek.
"What...whAT the fuck do you think you're doing?!"
You leap out of your spot and on to John, desperately trying to snatch your phone away from the man but he's too quick and strong for you, wrapping his free arm around your waist to keep you restrained in his lap, your phone out of your reach.
"Relax relax! Settle down, okay? there's no need for that."
"No need? JOHN, are you fucking insane?"
"No more than you letting this little boy treat you like some kind of doormat ready to let him get his dick wet whenever he happens to remember that you exist."
That's exactly what it takes to make you go still in his lap, hands dropping, legs no longer kicking, throat dry.
Before you can croak out some painful little sob, before you can let the hurt ruin you and demand him how he could speak to you like that he asks, straightforward and simple.
"Don't you want to be treated like you should?"
There's some sincere heartache there when he asks it. You know the feeling so well that you recognize it instantly as he questions you. It's more than apparent that he feels for you, genuinely unable to understand why you put yourself through this. The truth is, you don't know either but you can't seem to find the strength to answer him. So he continues,
"Don't you want someone who wants to keep you around long after they've cum inside you? Not send you hobbling back home at four in the fucking morning and not even text back for weeks? Don't you want to be liked? to feel good? to put all that shit you've been settling for behind you for good?"
You're speechless, big eyes hopelessly lost in John's intense gaze.
"...how about for someone who's losing it just seeing you in his clothes?" he asks pointedly, his eyes dragging over the sight of your body in his t-shirt before his gaze connects with yours again. Completely absent of any subtlety. There was no room left for subtlety now, he supposes.
"Y-you? with me? you want that?"
John smiles and its effect is instant. One of those kind smiles he reserves for you, all soft and wonderfully reassuring. The type that makes you feel like everything's going to be alright.
"Yeah. So much that, well. I might be pushing papers now but you remember what my work was before that, right?", he asks, waiting patiently for you to muster up a nod that signals that you're on the same page before he continues.
"So much that I wanted to pay that little prick a visit. Really give him what he deserved for what he's put you through...made it all the way up to his door once. Almost knocked too. Turned away just in time when I heard you on the other side. Didn't want you to see that side of me...you've already put up with enough unpleasantness thanks to one man."
You stare. It's like someone's yanked a vital plug right out of its socket in your mind, words scrambling on your tongue. With great effort you're able to spit something half coherent out.
"John...I don't- oh my god..."
A humorless chuckle to rival your own leaves his lips, his eyes set on the floor, shaking his head.
"Guess I'm the one who's really crossed the line, huh?", he hands your phone back to you, eyes still avoiding your own.
Somehow, you manage to take it, your whole body overcome with a bone deep wash of pins and needles but you don't hold it for long. Letting your phone clatter back down onto the floor for a second time, you raise your hands to frame his cheeks, beard pleasantly scratchy on your palms. When your lips press against his he's surprised alright, eyes wide as you let out a muffled little moan, your tongue finding his.
John Price had ticked so many of your boxes when you began living together. Kind. Reliable. Mature. Mild mannered. Attractive. The list goes on. You just never supposed he'd want someone younger like yourself. You never thought he'd ever see you as anything more than his tenant. The sweet girl he shared a roof with and nothing more. Never had he eluded that you might have been his type. And let's not forget the risk of getting kicked out if you made a move yourself when there was nothing to suggest that he liked you like that.
The man kept you fed. Kept you warm. Kept you safe and happy and cared for under his roof. And he always looked good doing it too.
It's been mere moments but being with a real man already feels far too good to waste a single second more without him.
"Take your clothes off, John", you rasp, when your lips part, already unbuttoning his dress shirt to help him get it done quicker.
He doesn't question it, a little caught off guard with how swiftly things have developed but he doesn't need to be told twice, fingers pulling at his zipper as the two of you scramble up his bed.
"Something I said?", he adds to the building tension, the nice kind, as you manage to pull your panties off and let them fall to the floor, eyes eagerly set on the sight of his cock springing free as his boxers join your underwear in a heap. His t-shirt, you make sure to keep on however.
"You could say that", you grin, hands resting on his broad, hairy chest as you kiss him again, keeping him pinned under you with your knees on either side of his hips.
But not for long.
In a quick but careful flip, John gets you on your back, making you gasp as he takes his place on top of you.
"Nice of you to try taking the lead but I'm going to be taking care of you tonight, alright? 'fraid I can't take no for an answer on that."
You can only gawk for a few moments, lips eventually shaping into a pleasantly surprised smile as you settle into your new position.
"Okay. Let me have it".
The second he starts to kiss your neck; it's already a vast difference to what you've been settling for with Derek. Feeling John descend your body with more kisses down your chest and stomach as he pushes the hem of his t-shirt up over your tits, is like a desperate prayer being answered.
John doesn't rush. He doesn't huff and groan in annoyance. He doesn't grab too hard and bruise. He doesn't cuss about you taking too long to get to his dick.
He treats you with decency.
His lips are gentle and his fingers roam and linger with interest. Little whispers about how beautiful you are warm your skin and make your nipples perk up, soft moans falling from your lips when he drags his knuckles over the sensitive peaks.
You're not used to this. Having someone take their time with you feels so alien but oh so welcome at the same time. It's almost embarrassing in a way how your poor deprived body trembles from the affection you've been denied for too long.
It feels even better when his bearded chin meets the tuft of your bush, his nose dipping down to suck in a deep breath of your scent before his lips peck at your clit so sweetly it makes your hips twitch.
"You ready for this?", John makes sure to check, peering up at you from between your legs. You figure the best way to answer him is to bend your knees and lay your legs over his shoulders to present your pussy. Wet and spread out and ready.
"Go ahead. Please", you reply, one of your hands coyly tugging on a tendril of your hair that rests by your breast.
The smile that takes shape on his face is so gleeful, like he's earned some kind of prize that he's been longing for. Bled and sweated and cried for. Being looked at in that way makes you feel so utterly cherished. It's a feeling you could definitely get used to.
When his tongue rolls over your clit it makes your hips jolt, twitching, muscles clenching. Mixed with arousal is a heaping sense of relief. He's going to take care of you. He's going to seek out that lonely ache that's been pulsing inside, the one that's gone ignored up until now and do something about it.
John's lips closing around your little bud makes you sigh and moan, your hands travelling low to find his hair and fix your fingers in it with some light tugging.
"John...that's really nice. Really really nice", you admit.
A few more sucks and he takes your praise as his cue to make more use of his tongue, licking up and down those slick folds of yours until you start to buck in to his face. You can feel him chuckle into your inner thigh shortly after and it tickles, enough to distract you before you're pleasantly taken by surprise by his tongue slipping past to tease your little hole.
Maybe you're just sensitive from all the neglect. Or maybe he's just that good because you're nearing the precipice already, something turning tight and taut in your belly so quickly that all you can do to warn him is throw your head back and whine out his name.
He'd talk you through it. He'd love to do that but a mouthful of you cumming on his tongue is far too sweet to pass up. Face wet, he remains in place, taking each buck of your hips into his mouth, lips sucking until he feels the base of your palm pushing weakly against his forehead.
Pulling away, John makes sure to check if you’re okay and tries not to let it stroke his ego when he sees the state of you, chest heaving, breath short and labored. All because he paid a little attention to your sweet cunt.
"Yeah? was that too much for you?", he can't help but tease.
For the meantime all you can do is shudder and pant, your palm flattened over your left breast to feel your heartbeat thump behind your ribcage.
"Fucking hell, John", you finally manage between breaths, a lazy, satisfied smile tugging at your lips.
"Get up here already."
He's quick to follow through, pulling himself free before you're face to face again. You can smell yourself on his beard. Fuck, you can see it too, the wetness coating the thick, bristly hairs of his greying beard. It makes you feel a little self conscious having made such a mess on him but it doesn't last long once you see the tip of his tongue come out to swipe along his wet bottom lip.
"You better get used to this. I know I will. Taste's so good, you're gonna have to pry me out from there with a crowbar".
You laugh, a little snort sneaking in there too because it sounds so ridiculous.
But what makes your body ripple with heat is how much it sounds like a promise too.
"You are something else, Captain. Now get over here and fuck me."
"As the lady wishes", he obliges, an incredibly endearing, dorky charm about him that you liked to see slip out from time to time.
As John moves closer, you notice a damp little trickle on the sheets where his pelvis had been resting. When you see the thin string of precum hanging off the tip on his cock, you realize where it must have come from.
His cock is sizeable. That much you'd already guessed during the times he wore his sweatpants to have breakfast with you before work. But seeing it completely bare was something else. Thick and curved, the hair at his base and on his balls makes you excited to feel them too. His belly is soft and hairy as well. As are his thighs though you know all around him is some serious muscle packed underneath.
Eagerly you grab his arm and pull him down with you, shuffling yourselves into the right position so that his hard cock presses against your wet, waiting pussy.
"Now. Please. Now" you beg, prompting him to reach down between your slick bodies and guide his cock to you.
When he slips in it's so right. He's not forceful nor uncoordinated. He lets you take him in with patience.
He never breaks away from your face either, closely watching your reactions. Under it all you know he has to be pleased too when he sees your jaw hang open all slack, only needy little moans bubbling up from your throat.
And when he starts to move, he seeks your hand out, taking your fingers between his own, pinning them there by your head. It's so reassuring. An unspoken understanding that he's going to take care of you. So much better than anyone before him.
John doesn't fuck you like an object. You know the man is more than capable of it but that's not how he treats you in this moment.
He makes love to you like you're the only precious thing in his life, cock plunging in and out of you steadily. Like you're the only good that's ever come by him in all his years. Someone so darling and so dear to be pleasured the right way. Your bliss is his biggest reward.
"Oh, John oh that's amazing. Fuck I can't believe I've been missing out on this for an entire yea.r"
"Guess we gotta make up for lost time", he grunts back, his other hand sloping up your waist and to your breast, squeezing it nice and with a kind of roughness you would really like to feel more of.
"Oh, yes we do", you agree.
Slow, steady thrusting, though not too gentle, he works you so expertly, squeezing more and more delightful sounds out from between your pretty lips. You're pleased to hear the ragged grunts he lets out too, all because of the way that your tight pussy wraps around his aching cock.
"John, please tell me you're close because I'm-"
"Me too", he cuts you off, his thrusts starting to build in intensity.
"I can cum inside, right? I'm sorry- told myself I wouldn't bring it up- not during our first time but shit, I gotta-"
"Yes. I want you to cum inside I really fucking do", you grant him hasty but wholly sincere permission.
"Thank fuck", he utters with relief.
Free hand slipping between your sweaty bodies, you circle your swollen clit nice and quick, stirring all of that delicious pressure, building and building and building until-
The feeling of him cumming inside you carries you through the wicked snap of your orgasm. Hot, viscous wetness shoots out in ropes persistently, so much that you're not surprised to feel it find its way out of you from around John's cock.
It's at this particular part of having sex that you're usually, and not so kindly, urged out of bed. After serving your "purpose" as Derek saw it, it was like he couldn't wait to get rid of you.
Actually, it was exactly that. He could not wait to get rid of you.
That's not how you want this particular encounter end, however.
It's why you take it upon yourself to wrap your legs around John's waist, ankles locked together down the small of his back. Despite already agreeing to having him cum inside, you feel the need to make sure that he does and that he stays long enough for the both of you to enjoy it through the come down. John might be a strong man but there's no breaking out of the hold you've got on him right now.
"Don't worry baby, I'm not going anywhere", he teases, sensing your whispering apprehension, his forehead coming down to rest against yours.
"Just making sure", you answer with a giggle.
"Oh, before I forget."
From where you're both positioned on his bed, John's able to reach down and pick your phone up from where you'd discarded it earlier, his cock still very much buried all the way inside you.
Once the device lights up with a press of his finger, he holds it up to you and has you press in your passcode to unlock it.
"John, what are you doing?", you ask once he's granted access.
"Just think it would be rude if we left Derek on read."
You watch on and get the gist as he pulls up your camera, your cheeks burning as he manages to pull back enough and snap a picture of his cock still in you, cum and cream all over the you both.
"Here," he hands it back to you to do the honors.
For a moment, you stall, really considering if you ought to go ahead with this.
And then you remember just how irredeemable Derek is and it's enough to make you punch in a quick 'busy', to caption the filthy picture, pressing send with a grin full of perverse excitement.
"Don't think I'll be hearing from him ever again", you chuckle with relief, watching on as John places your phone aside.
"That's good news. We ought to celebrate", he offers.
"Yeah? what do you have in mind?"
John grins.
"More of this", he suggests, playfully patting at your mound.
"That's exactly what I was hoping you'd say", you smile back.
18+ Landlord! John Price x Tenant! f! reader, mentions of a toxic situationship with another man, nudes, age gap, oral sex(f), PIV sex, unprotected sex WC:4.1K
Summary: Catching you in the middle of sending nudes to the wrong man should be one of the worst nights of both yours and your secretly smitten landlord's life. That is until a vulnerable moment shared between you two leads to something more.
Divider credit: @/cursed-carmine
"What the fuck are you doing?"
Is one of the last things he thought he'd ever say if he found you half naked in his bed.
Your phone clatters noisily to the floor from where you were holding it at arm's length away from your chest, camera still on as your newly freed arm joins the other in covering up your bare tits.
"Jesus fucking- John! close your damn eyes!", you yell.
"Me?! what are you- what are you doing in here?", he yells back but obliges anyway, clamping a hand over his eyes.
Before he had walked in, you had positioned yourself with your knees bent and your legs folded under you, your ass resting comfortably on your bare heels. Perfectly cute and flirty for the camera. Now you whip around frantically to grab one of his pillows from behind you and paste it to your front, the bottom half of it squeezed between your thighs to shield your sheer panties and the top half covering your tits better than your arms could as you wrap them around the plush middle.
How the hell were you to explain that the lighting in his bedroom was far better for taking nudes than in your own?
"Y-you said you'd be back around twelve?"
"I got off early. Now what the-"
"Oh, what does it look like, John?", you cut him off in frustration.
He says nothing as you watch his Adams apple bob in his throat, gulping nervously.
"...Derek?" he asks in a tone so hushed and so small for a man of his stature.
Oh God.
You let your face drop into his pillow, half ready to scream into it.
You're never drinking gin ever again.
Ever since you'd drunkenly confided in John about your on again off again situationship with Derek, he'd vehemently advised you to drop him.
You knew he was right. Derek was no good for you and the longer you let him sink his hooks into you, the longer you'll stew in the thorny anguish that came with his company.
The man simply didn't care unless you opened your legs for him.
He had a talent for making you feel worse about yourself with every visit. Leaving you to pick your clothes up off the floor and walk yourself home when he was done with you, stinking of sex that made you feel more turmoiled than satisfied.
But you always crawled back for more.
Just like now. Stripping down only minutes after the dreaded "u up?" popped up on your screen. God, you're pathetic.
"....yes", you answer your poor landlord, shame bubbling to a boiling point in your belly, the toxic vapors reaching up into your throat like thick smoke. Any longer and you might actually choke on the feeling.
"I'm so sorry, John. Coming in here was way over the line", you apologize with a little sniffle.
Slowly, he lets slip the hand from his eyes though he's gentleman enough to keep his gaze fixed on the floor.
"You're just going to hate yourself after", he warns as gently as he can. It's what needs to be said though he doesn't want you to feel any worse than you already do after all.
"Too late", you reply, glum.
"You already sent him the pictures?", John's eyes widen with alert and worry.
You jump to reassure him. "No! no... you... you caught me just in time I guess."
You can feel yourself coming down like a house of cards in his bed, fat tears, the kind you can't blink or sniff away, about to dampen your cheeks.
"Oh, that's good then", he comments, very cautiously allowing his gaze to climb a little higher.
It really shouldn't make his cock ache as much as it does to see you like this. Well, he supposes it should though the circumstances make him feel guilty about it.
Here you are, crying in his bed and all he can do is think about is giving you a better reason to shed some tears like fucking you into his mattress till you turn delirious on cock.
"I'll uh, get you something to wear", he breaks away from the spot he'd been frozen in, quietly but desperately making himself busy to distract himself as he pulls at his dresser.
'It's washed. It'll fit', is all he thinks when he gathers one of his casual t-shirts from the stack, gingerly offering it to you as he pastes his gaze to the ceiling next.
Timidly you shift, closing your fingers around the soft grey cotton as you accept his t-shirt.
"...thank you...", you sniffle, slowly tugging it on until you're able to cover yourself up somewhat, the hem of his t-shirt resting halfway down your thighs. You even attempt to make his bed as you stand up, pulling the covering sheet taut until the wrinkles stretch out and disappear. You fluff his pillow and place it back against the headboard too, just like it had been when you first snuck in.
"You don't need to do that", John tells you kindly.
"It's quite literally the least I can do", you reply.
Gaze no longer fixed on the ceiling, John looks at you. Really looks at you and he can feel himself dripping with both sympathy for you and well...he's just glad he's wearing his black slacks today.
"Listen, why don't you sit down? let's talk about it".
You can't help the fleeting, faint smile that twinges at the corner of your mouth. That's so like him. Always ready to lend an ear. Always ready to extend some support and comfort.
"What more is there to say about it?", you ask though you still steer yourself to the foot of his bed where he pats down a spot for you to sit on. John joins you by your side though he's polite enough to keep a good few inches of space between you two.
"So. He called?"
"He messaged".
"And he asked for pictures?"
"I mean not exactly but trust me, it was strongly implied."
"Right. And how did you feel about that?"
You don't even remember placing your hands in your lap but there they were now when you look down, fingers anxiously picking at each other with your nails.
"I...I guess I...just wanted someone to like me. I wanted to feel wanted too... and desirable, you know?", you peek up at him through your lashes, only for a moment before your eyes drop back down to watch your nervous fingers at work.
You might not pick up on it but the words 'I can give you all of that and so much more', resonates with a booming echo in John's head, like a deafening blast of TNT contained within his skull though his lips remain unmoving.
"I don't even think the pictures came out that good", you let out a dry, humorless chuckle next. Right now, it's the only way you can open your mouth without screaming.
Your landlord says nothing, a thick silence hanging in the air for a few painful moments before he says, "can't believe that".
You're almost certain you heard the man wrong until your lips part and your mouth hangs open when he leaves his spot beside you. Casually, he retrieves your phone off the floor and returns to your side, thumb swiping through the newest pictures in your gallery.
"John?? what are you doing?", you utter, completely aghast.
Naturally, your eyes go wide with shock as the man who'd rented out the spare bedroom in his home to you a year ago calmly peruses the pictures of you with your tits out.
And then, he says,
"Can tell you're not into it", he surmises correctly, your stomach dropping as you remember how hard you had tried to plaster on your best fake smile in the hopes of convincing Derek.
"What...whAT the fuck do you think you're doing?!"
You leap out of your spot and on to John, desperately trying to snatch your phone away from the man but he's too quick and strong for you, wrapping his free arm around your waist to keep you restrained in his lap, your phone out of your reach.
"Relax relax! Settle down, okay? there's no need for that."
"No need? JOHN, are you fucking insane?"
"No more than you letting this little boy treat you like some kind of doormat ready to let him get his dick wet whenever he happens to remember that you exist."
That's exactly what it takes to make you go still in his lap, hands dropping, legs no longer kicking, throat dry.
Before you can croak out some painful little sob, before you can let the hurt ruin you and demand him how he could speak to you like that he asks, straightforward and simple.
"Don't you want to be treated like you should?"
There's some sincere heartache there when he asks it. You know the feeling so well that you recognize it instantly as he questions you. It's more than apparent that he feels for you, genuinely unable to understand why you put yourself through this. The truth is, you don't know either but you can't seem to find the strength to answer him. So he continues,
"Don't you want someone who wants to keep you around long after they've cum inside you? Not send you hobbling back home at four in the fucking morning and not even text back for weeks? Don't you want to be liked? to feel good? to put all that shit you've been settling for behind you for good?"
You're speechless, big eyes hopelessly lost in John's intense gaze.
"...how about for someone who's losing it just seeing you in his clothes?" he asks pointedly, his eyes dragging over the sight of your body in his t-shirt before his gaze connects with yours again. Completely absent of any subtlety. There was no room left for subtlety now, he supposes.
"Y-you? with me? you want that?"
John smiles and its effect is instant. One of those kind smiles he reserves for you, all soft and wonderfully reassuring. The type that makes you feel like everything's going to be alright.
"Yeah. So much that, well. I might be pushing papers now but you remember what my work was before that, right?", he asks, waiting patiently for you to muster up a nod that signals that you're on the same page before he continues.
"So much that I wanted to pay that little prick a visit. Really give him what he deserved for what he's put you through...made it all the way up to his door once. Almost knocked too. Turned away just in time when I heard you on the other side. Didn't want you to see that side of me...you've already put up with enough unpleasantness thanks to one man."
You stare. It's like someone's yanked a vital plug right out of its socket in your mind, words scrambling on your tongue. With great effort you're able to spit something half coherent out.
"John...I don't- oh my god..."
A humorless chuckle to rival your own leaves his lips, his eyes set on the floor, shaking his head.
"Guess I'm the one who's really crossed the line, huh?", he hands your phone back to you, eyes still avoiding your own.
Somehow, you manage to take it, your whole body overcome with a bone deep wash of pins and needles but you don't hold it for long. Letting your phone clatter back down onto the floor for a second time, you raise your hands to frame his cheeks, beard pleasantly scratchy on your palms. When your lips press against his he's surprised alright, eyes wide as you let out a muffled little moan, your tongue finding his.
John Price had ticked so many of your boxes when you began living together. Kind. Reliable. Mature. Mild mannered. Attractive. The list goes on. You just never supposed he'd want someone younger like yourself. You never thought he'd ever see you as anything more than his tenant. The sweet girl he shared a roof with and nothing more. Never had he eluded that you might have been his type. And let's not forget the risk of getting kicked out if you made a move yourself when there was nothing to suggest that he liked you like that.
The man kept you fed. Kept you warm. Kept you safe and happy and cared for under his roof. And he always looked good doing it too.
It's been mere moments but being with a real man already feels far too good to waste a single second more without him.
"Take your clothes off, John", you rasp, when your lips part, already unbuttoning his dress shirt to help him get it done quicker.
He doesn't question it, a little caught off guard with how swiftly things have developed but he doesn't need to be told twice, fingers pulling at his zipper as the two of you scramble up his bed.
"Something I said?", he adds to the building tension, the nice kind, as you manage to pull your panties off and let them fall to the floor, eyes eagerly set on the sight of his cock springing free as his boxers join your underwear in a heap. His t-shirt, you make sure to keep on however.
"You could say that", you grin, hands resting on his broad, hairy chest as you kiss him again, keeping him pinned under you with your knees on either side of his hips.
But not for long.
In a quick but careful flip, John gets you on your back, making you gasp as he takes his place on top of you.
"Nice of you to try taking the lead but I'm going to be taking care of you tonight, alright? 'fraid I can't take no for an answer on that."
You can only gawk for a few moments, lips eventually shaping into a pleasantly surprised smile as you settle into your new position.
"Okay. Let me have it".
The second he starts to kiss your neck; it's already a vast difference to what you've been settling for with Derek. Feeling John descend your body with more kisses down your chest and stomach as he pushes the hem of his t-shirt up over your tits, is like a desperate prayer being answered.
John doesn't rush. He doesn't huff and groan in annoyance. He doesn't grab too hard and bruise. He doesn't cuss about you taking too long to get to his dick.
He treats you with decency.
His lips are gentle and his fingers roam and linger with interest. Little whispers about how beautiful you are warm your skin and make your nipples perk up, soft moans falling from your lips when he drags his knuckles over the sensitive peaks.
You're not used to this. Having someone take their time with you feels so alien but oh so welcome at the same time. It's almost embarrassing in a way how your poor deprived body trembles from the affection you've been denied for too long.
It feels even better when his bearded chin meets the tuft of your bush, his nose dipping down to suck in a deep breath of your scent before his lips peck at your clit so sweetly it makes your hips twitch.
"You ready for this?", John makes sure to check, peering up at you from between your legs. You figure the best way to answer him is to bend your knees and lay your legs over his shoulders to present your pussy. Wet and spread out and ready.
"Go ahead. Please", you reply, one of your hands coyly tugging on a tendril of your hair that rests by your breast.
The smile that takes shape on his face is so gleeful, like he's earned some kind of prize that he's been longing for. Bled and sweated and cried for. Being looked at in that way makes you feel so utterly cherished. It's a feeling you could definitely get used to.
When his tongue rolls over your clit it makes your hips jolt, twitching, muscles clenching. Mixed with arousal is a heaping sense of relief. He's going to take care of you. He's going to seek out that lonely ache that's been pulsing inside, the one that's gone ignored up until now and do something about it.
John's lips closing around your little bud makes you sigh and moan, your hands travelling low to find his hair and fix your fingers in it with some light tugging.
"John...that's really nice. Really really nice", you admit.
A few more sucks and he takes your praise as his cue to make more use of his tongue, licking up and down those slick folds of yours until you start to buck in to his face. You can feel him chuckle into your inner thigh shortly after and it tickles, enough to distract you before you're pleasantly taken by surprise by his tongue slipping past to tease your little hole.
Maybe you're just sensitive from all the neglect. Or maybe he's just that good because you're nearing the precipice already, something turning tight and taut in your belly so quickly that all you can do to warn him is throw your head back and whine out his name.
He'd talk you through it. He'd love to do that but a mouthful of you cumming on his tongue is far too sweet to pass up. Face wet, he remains in place, taking each buck of your hips into his mouth, lips sucking until he feels the base of your palm pushing weakly against his forehead.
Pulling away, John makes sure to check if you’re okay and tries not to let it stroke his ego when he sees the state of you, chest heaving, breath short and labored. All because he paid a little attention to your sweet cunt.
"Yeah? was that too much for you?", he can't help but tease.
For the meantime all you can do is shudder and pant, your palm flattened over your left breast to feel your heartbeat thump behind your ribcage.
"Fucking hell, John", you finally manage between breaths, a lazy, satisfied smile tugging at your lips.
"Get up here already."
He's quick to follow through, pulling himself free before you're face to face again. You can smell yourself on his beard. Fuck, you can see it too, the wetness coating the thick, bristly hairs of his greying beard. It makes you feel a little self conscious having made such a mess on him but it doesn't last long once you see the tip of his tongue come out to swipe along his wet bottom lip.
"You better get used to this. I know I will. Taste's so good, you're gonna have to pry me out from there with a crowbar".
You laugh, a little snort sneaking in there too because it sounds so ridiculous.
But what makes your body ripple with heat is how much it sounds like a promise too.
"You are something else, Captain. Now get over here and fuck me."
"As the lady wishes", he obliges, an incredibly endearing, dorky charm about him that you liked to see slip out from time to time.
As John moves closer, you notice a damp little trickle on the sheets where his pelvis had been resting. When you see the thin string of precum hanging off the tip on his cock, you realize where it must have come from.
His cock is sizeable. That much you'd already guessed during the times he wore his sweatpants to have breakfast with you before work. But seeing it completely bare was something else. Thick and curved, the hair at his base and on his balls makes you excited to feel them too. His belly is soft and hairy as well. As are his thighs though you know all around him is some serious muscle packed underneath.
Eagerly you grab his arm and pull him down with you, shuffling yourselves into the right position so that his hard cock presses against your wet, waiting pussy.
"Now. Please. Now" you beg, prompting him to reach down between your slick bodies and guide his cock to you.
When he slips in it's so right. He's not forceful nor uncoordinated. He lets you take him in with patience.
He never breaks away from your face either, closely watching your reactions. Under it all you know he has to be pleased too when he sees your jaw hang open all slack, only needy little moans bubbling up from your throat.
And when he starts to move, he seeks your hand out, taking your fingers between his own, pinning them there by your head. It's so reassuring. An unspoken understanding that he's going to take care of you. So much better than anyone before him.
John doesn't fuck you like an object. You know the man is more than capable of it but that's not how he treats you in this moment.
He makes love to you like you're the only precious thing in his life, cock plunging in and out of you steadily. Like you're the only good that's ever come by him in all his years. Someone so darling and so dear to be pleasured the right way. Your bliss is his biggest reward.
"Oh, John oh that's amazing. Fuck I can't believe I've been missing out on this for an entire yea.r"
"Guess we gotta make up for lost time", he grunts back, his other hand sloping up your waist and to your breast, squeezing it nice and with a kind of roughness you would really like to feel more of.
"Oh, yes we do", you agree.
Slow, steady thrusting, though not too gentle, he works you so expertly, squeezing more and more delightful sounds out from between your pretty lips. You're pleased to hear the ragged grunts he lets out too, all because of the way that your tight pussy wraps around his aching cock.
"John, please tell me you're close because I'm-"
"Me too", he cuts you off, his thrusts starting to build in intensity.
"I can cum inside, right? I'm sorry- told myself I wouldn't bring it up- not during our first time but shit, I gotta-"
"Yes. I want you to cum inside I really fucking do", you grant him hasty but wholly sincere permission.
"Thank fuck", he utters with relief.
Free hand slipping between your sweaty bodies, you circle your swollen clit nice and quick, stirring all of that delicious pressure, building and building and building until-
The feeling of him cumming inside you carries you through the wicked snap of your orgasm. Hot, viscous wetness shoots out in ropes persistently, so much that you're not surprised to feel it find its way out of you from around John's cock.
It's at this particular part of having sex that you're usually, and not so kindly, urged out of bed. After serving your "purpose" as Derek saw it, it was like he couldn't wait to get rid of you.
Actually, it was exactly that. He could not wait to get rid of you.
That's not how you want this particular encounter end, however.
It's why you take it upon yourself to wrap your legs around John's waist, ankles locked together down the small of his back. Despite already agreeing to having him cum inside, you feel the need to make sure that he does and that he stays long enough for the both of you to enjoy it through the come down. John might be a strong man but there's no breaking out of the hold you've got on him right now.
"Don't worry baby, I'm not going anywhere", he teases, sensing your whispering apprehension, his forehead coming down to rest against yours.
"Just making sure", you answer with a giggle.
"Oh, before I forget."
From where you're both positioned on his bed, John's able to reach down and pick your phone up from where you'd discarded it earlier, his cock still very much buried all the way inside you.
Once the device lights up with a press of his finger, he holds it up to you and has you press in your passcode to unlock it.
"John, what are you doing?", you ask once he's granted access.
"Just think it would be rude if we left Derek on read."
You watch on and get the gist as he pulls up your camera, your cheeks burning as he manages to pull back enough and snap a picture of his cock still in you, cum and cream all over the you both.
"Here," he hands it back to you to do the honors.
For a moment, you stall, really considering if you ought to go ahead with this.
And then you remember just how irredeemable Derek is and it's enough to make you punch in a quick 'busy', to caption the filthy picture, pressing send with a grin full of perverse excitement.
"Don't think I'll be hearing from him ever again", you chuckle with relief, watching on as John places your phone aside.
"That's good news. We ought to celebrate", he offers.
"Yeah? what do you have in mind?"
John grins.
"More of this", he suggests, playfully patting at your mound.
"That's exactly what I was hoping you'd say", you smile back.
18+ Landlord! John Price x Tenant! f! reader, mentions of a toxic situationship with another man, nudes, age gap, oral sex(f), PIV sex, unprotected sex WC:4.1K
Summary: Catching you in the middle of sending nudes to the wrong man should be one of the worst nights of both yours and your secretly smitten landlord's life. That is until a vulnerable moment shared between you two leads to something more.
Divider credit: @/cursed-carmine
"What the fuck are you doing?"
Is one of the last things he thought he'd ever say if he found you half naked in his bed.
Your phone clatters noisily to the floor from where you were holding it at arm's length away from your chest, camera still on as your newly freed arm joins the other in covering up your bare tits.
"Jesus fucking- John! close your damn eyes!", you yell.
"Me?! what are you- what are you doing in here?", he yells back but obliges anyway, clamping a hand over his eyes.
Before he had walked in, you had positioned yourself with your knees bent and your legs folded under you, your ass resting comfortably on your bare heels. Perfectly cute and flirty for the camera. Now you whip around frantically to grab one of his pillows from behind you and paste it to your front, the bottom half of it squeezed between your thighs to shield your sheer panties and the top half covering your tits better than your arms could as you wrap them around the plush middle.
How the hell were you to explain that the lighting in his bedroom was far better for taking nudes than in your own?
"Y-you said you'd be back around twelve?"
"I got off early. Now what the-"
"Oh, what does it look like, John?", you cut him off in frustration.
He says nothing as you watch his Adams apple bob in his throat, gulping nervously.
"...Derek?" he asks in a tone so hushed and so small for a man of his stature.
Oh God.
You let your face drop into his pillow, half ready to scream into it.
You're never drinking gin ever again.
Ever since you'd drunkenly confided in John about your on again off again situationship with Derek, he'd vehemently advised you to drop him.
You knew he was right. Derek was no good for you and the longer you let him sink his hooks into you, the longer you'll stew in the thorny anguish that came with his company.
The man simply didn't care unless you opened your legs for him.
He had a talent for making you feel worse about yourself with every visit. Leaving you to pick your clothes up off the floor and walk yourself home when he was done with you, stinking of sex that made you feel more turmoiled than satisfied.
But you always crawled back for more.
Just like now. Stripping down only minutes after the dreaded "u up?" popped up on your screen. God, you're pathetic.
"....yes", you answer your poor landlord, shame bubbling to a boiling point in your belly, the toxic vapors reaching up into your throat like thick smoke. Any longer and you might actually choke on the feeling.
"I'm so sorry, John. Coming in here was way over the line", you apologize with a little sniffle.
Slowly, he lets slip the hand from his eyes though he's gentleman enough to keep his gaze fixed on the floor.
"You're just going to hate yourself after", he warns as gently as he can. It's what needs to be said though he doesn't want you to feel any worse than you already do after all.
"Too late", you reply, glum.
"You already sent him the pictures?", John's eyes widen with alert and worry.
You jump to reassure him. "No! no... you... you caught me just in time I guess."
You can feel yourself coming down like a house of cards in his bed, fat tears, the kind you can't blink or sniff away, about to dampen your cheeks.
"Oh, that's good then", he comments, very cautiously allowing his gaze to climb a little higher.
It really shouldn't make his cock ache as much as it does to see you like this. Well, he supposes it should though the circumstances make him feel guilty about it.
Here you are, crying in his bed and all he can do is think about is giving you a better reason to shed some tears like fucking you into his mattress till you turn delirious on cock.
"I'll uh, get you something to wear", he breaks away from the spot he'd been frozen in, quietly but desperately making himself busy to distract himself as he pulls at his dresser.
'It's washed. It'll fit', is all he thinks when he gathers one of his casual t-shirts from the stack, gingerly offering it to you as he pastes his gaze to the ceiling next.
Timidly you shift, closing your fingers around the soft grey cotton as you accept his t-shirt.
"...thank you...", you sniffle, slowly tugging it on until you're able to cover yourself up somewhat, the hem of his t-shirt resting halfway down your thighs. You even attempt to make his bed as you stand up, pulling the covering sheet taut until the wrinkles stretch out and disappear. You fluff his pillow and place it back against the headboard too, just like it had been when you first snuck in.
"You don't need to do that", John tells you kindly.
"It's quite literally the least I can do", you reply.
Gaze no longer fixed on the ceiling, John looks at you. Really looks at you and he can feel himself dripping with both sympathy for you and well...he's just glad he's wearing his black slacks today.
"Listen, why don't you sit down? let's talk about it".
You can't help the fleeting, faint smile that twinges at the corner of your mouth. That's so like him. Always ready to lend an ear. Always ready to extend some support and comfort.
"What more is there to say about it?", you ask though you still steer yourself to the foot of his bed where he pats down a spot for you to sit on. John joins you by your side though he's polite enough to keep a good few inches of space between you two.
"So. He called?"
"He messaged".
"And he asked for pictures?"
"I mean not exactly but trust me, it was strongly implied."
"Right. And how did you feel about that?"
You don't even remember placing your hands in your lap but there they were now when you look down, fingers anxiously picking at each other with your nails.
"I...I guess I...just wanted someone to like me. I wanted to feel wanted too... and desirable, you know?", you peek up at him through your lashes, only for a moment before your eyes drop back down to watch your nervous fingers at work.
You might not pick up on it but the words 'I can give you all of that and so much more', resonates with a booming echo in John's head, like a deafening blast of TNT contained within his skull though his lips remain unmoving.
"I don't even think the pictures came out that good", you let out a dry, humorless chuckle next. Right now, it's the only way you can open your mouth without screaming.
Your landlord says nothing, a thick silence hanging in the air for a few painful moments before he says, "can't believe that".
You're almost certain you heard the man wrong until your lips part and your mouth hangs open when he leaves his spot beside you. Casually, he retrieves your phone off the floor and returns to your side, thumb swiping through the newest pictures in your gallery.
"John?? what are you doing?", you utter, completely aghast.
Naturally, your eyes go wide with shock as the man who'd rented out the spare bedroom in his home to you a year ago calmly peruses the pictures of you with your tits out.
And then, he says,
"Can tell you're not into it", he surmises correctly, your stomach dropping as you remember how hard you had tried to plaster on your best fake smile in the hopes of convincing Derek.
"What...whAT the fuck do you think you're doing?!"
You leap out of your spot and on to John, desperately trying to snatch your phone away from the man but he's too quick and strong for you, wrapping his free arm around your waist to keep you restrained in his lap, your phone out of your reach.
"Relax relax! Settle down, okay? there's no need for that."
"No need? JOHN, are you fucking insane?"
"No more than you letting this little boy treat you like some kind of doormat ready to let him get his dick wet whenever he happens to remember that you exist."
That's exactly what it takes to make you go still in his lap, hands dropping, legs no longer kicking, throat dry.
Before you can croak out some painful little sob, before you can let the hurt ruin you and demand him how he could speak to you like that he asks, straightforward and simple.
"Don't you want to be treated like you should?"
There's some sincere heartache there when he asks it. You know the feeling so well that you recognize it instantly as he questions you. It's more than apparent that he feels for you, genuinely unable to understand why you put yourself through this. The truth is, you don't know either but you can't seem to find the strength to answer him. So he continues,
"Don't you want someone who wants to keep you around long after they've cum inside you? Not send you hobbling back home at four in the fucking morning and not even text back for weeks? Don't you want to be liked? to feel good? to put all that shit you've been settling for behind you for good?"
You're speechless, big eyes hopelessly lost in John's intense gaze.
"...how about for someone who's losing it just seeing you in his clothes?" he asks pointedly, his eyes dragging over the sight of your body in his t-shirt before his gaze connects with yours again. Completely absent of any subtlety. There was no room left for subtlety now, he supposes.
"Y-you? with me? you want that?"
John smiles and its effect is instant. One of those kind smiles he reserves for you, all soft and wonderfully reassuring. The type that makes you feel like everything's going to be alright.
"Yeah. So much that, well. I might be pushing papers now but you remember what my work was before that, right?", he asks, waiting patiently for you to muster up a nod that signals that you're on the same page before he continues.
"So much that I wanted to pay that little prick a visit. Really give him what he deserved for what he's put you through...made it all the way up to his door once. Almost knocked too. Turned away just in time when I heard you on the other side. Didn't want you to see that side of me...you've already put up with enough unpleasantness thanks to one man."
You stare. It's like someone's yanked a vital plug right out of its socket in your mind, words scrambling on your tongue. With great effort you're able to spit something half coherent out.
"John...I don't- oh my god..."
A humorless chuckle to rival your own leaves his lips, his eyes set on the floor, shaking his head.
"Guess I'm the one who's really crossed the line, huh?", he hands your phone back to you, eyes still avoiding your own.
Somehow, you manage to take it, your whole body overcome with a bone deep wash of pins and needles but you don't hold it for long. Letting your phone clatter back down onto the floor for a second time, you raise your hands to frame his cheeks, beard pleasantly scratchy on your palms. When your lips press against his he's surprised alright, eyes wide as you let out a muffled little moan, your tongue finding his.
John Price had ticked so many of your boxes when you began living together. Kind. Reliable. Mature. Mild mannered. Attractive. The list goes on. You just never supposed he'd want someone younger like yourself. You never thought he'd ever see you as anything more than his tenant. The sweet girl he shared a roof with and nothing more. Never had he eluded that you might have been his type. And let's not forget the risk of getting kicked out if you made a move yourself when there was nothing to suggest that he liked you like that.
The man kept you fed. Kept you warm. Kept you safe and happy and cared for under his roof. And he always looked good doing it too.
It's been mere moments but being with a real man already feels far too good to waste a single second more without him.
"Take your clothes off, John", you rasp, when your lips part, already unbuttoning his dress shirt to help him get it done quicker.
He doesn't question it, a little caught off guard with how swiftly things have developed but he doesn't need to be told twice, fingers pulling at his zipper as the two of you scramble up his bed.
"Something I said?", he adds to the building tension, the nice kind, as you manage to pull your panties off and let them fall to the floor, eyes eagerly set on the sight of his cock springing free as his boxers join your underwear in a heap. His t-shirt, you make sure to keep on however.
"You could say that", you grin, hands resting on his broad, hairy chest as you kiss him again, keeping him pinned under you with your knees on either side of his hips.
But not for long.
In a quick but careful flip, John gets you on your back, making you gasp as he takes his place on top of you.
"Nice of you to try taking the lead but I'm going to be taking care of you tonight, alright? 'fraid I can't take no for an answer on that."
You can only gawk for a few moments, lips eventually shaping into a pleasantly surprised smile as you settle into your new position.
"Okay. Let me have it".
The second he starts to kiss your neck; it's already a vast difference to what you've been settling for with Derek. Feeling John descend your body with more kisses down your chest and stomach as he pushes the hem of his t-shirt up over your tits, is like a desperate prayer being answered.
John doesn't rush. He doesn't huff and groan in annoyance. He doesn't grab too hard and bruise. He doesn't cuss about you taking too long to get to his dick.
He treats you with decency.
His lips are gentle and his fingers roam and linger with interest. Little whispers about how beautiful you are warm your skin and make your nipples perk up, soft moans falling from your lips when he drags his knuckles over the sensitive peaks.
You're not used to this. Having someone take their time with you feels so alien but oh so welcome at the same time. It's almost embarrassing in a way how your poor deprived body trembles from the affection you've been denied for too long.
It feels even better when his bearded chin meets the tuft of your bush, his nose dipping down to suck in a deep breath of your scent before his lips peck at your clit so sweetly it makes your hips twitch.
"You ready for this?", John makes sure to check, peering up at you from between your legs. You figure the best way to answer him is to bend your knees and lay your legs over his shoulders to present your pussy. Wet and spread out and ready.
"Go ahead. Please", you reply, one of your hands coyly tugging on a tendril of your hair that rests by your breast.
The smile that takes shape on his face is so gleeful, like he's earned some kind of prize that he's been longing for. Bled and sweated and cried for. Being looked at in that way makes you feel so utterly cherished. It's a feeling you could definitely get used to.
When his tongue rolls over your clit it makes your hips jolt, twitching, muscles clenching. Mixed with arousal is a heaping sense of relief. He's going to take care of you. He's going to seek out that lonely ache that's been pulsing inside, the one that's gone ignored up until now and do something about it.
John's lips closing around your little bud makes you sigh and moan, your hands travelling low to find his hair and fix your fingers in it with some light tugging.
"John...that's really nice. Really really nice", you admit.
A few more sucks and he takes your praise as his cue to make more use of his tongue, licking up and down those slick folds of yours until you start to buck in to his face. You can feel him chuckle into your inner thigh shortly after and it tickles, enough to distract you before you're pleasantly taken by surprise by his tongue slipping past to tease your little hole.
Maybe you're just sensitive from all the neglect. Or maybe he's just that good because you're nearing the precipice already, something turning tight and taut in your belly so quickly that all you can do to warn him is throw your head back and whine out his name.
He'd talk you through it. He'd love to do that but a mouthful of you cumming on his tongue is far too sweet to pass up. Face wet, he remains in place, taking each buck of your hips into his mouth, lips sucking until he feels the base of your palm pushing weakly against his forehead.
Pulling away, John makes sure to check if you’re okay and tries not to let it stroke his ego when he sees the state of you, chest heaving, breath short and labored. All because he paid a little attention to your sweet cunt.
"Yeah? was that too much for you?", he can't help but tease.
For the meantime all you can do is shudder and pant, your palm flattened over your left breast to feel your heartbeat thump behind your ribcage.
"Fucking hell, John", you finally manage between breaths, a lazy, satisfied smile tugging at your lips.
"Get up here already."
He's quick to follow through, pulling himself free before you're face to face again. You can smell yourself on his beard. Fuck, you can see it too, the wetness coating the thick, bristly hairs of his greying beard. It makes you feel a little self conscious having made such a mess on him but it doesn't last long once you see the tip of his tongue come out to swipe along his wet bottom lip.
"You better get used to this. I know I will. Taste's so good, you're gonna have to pry me out from there with a crowbar".
You laugh, a little snort sneaking in there too because it sounds so ridiculous.
But what makes your body ripple with heat is how much it sounds like a promise too.
"You are something else, Captain. Now get over here and fuck me."
"As the lady wishes", he obliges, an incredibly endearing, dorky charm about him that you liked to see slip out from time to time.
As John moves closer, you notice a damp little trickle on the sheets where his pelvis had been resting. When you see the thin string of precum hanging off the tip on his cock, you realize where it must have come from.
His cock is sizeable. That much you'd already guessed during the times he wore his sweatpants to have breakfast with you before work. But seeing it completely bare was something else. Thick and curved, the hair at his base and on his balls makes you excited to feel them too. His belly is soft and hairy as well. As are his thighs though you know all around him is some serious muscle packed underneath.
Eagerly you grab his arm and pull him down with you, shuffling yourselves into the right position so that his hard cock presses against your wet, waiting pussy.
"Now. Please. Now" you beg, prompting him to reach down between your slick bodies and guide his cock to you.
When he slips in it's so right. He's not forceful nor uncoordinated. He lets you take him in with patience.
He never breaks away from your face either, closely watching your reactions. Under it all you know he has to be pleased too when he sees your jaw hang open all slack, only needy little moans bubbling up from your throat.
And when he starts to move, he seeks your hand out, taking your fingers between his own, pinning them there by your head. It's so reassuring. An unspoken understanding that he's going to take care of you. So much better than anyone before him.
John doesn't fuck you like an object. You know the man is more than capable of it but that's not how he treats you in this moment.
He makes love to you like you're the only precious thing in his life, cock plunging in and out of you steadily. Like you're the only good that's ever come by him in all his years. Someone so darling and so dear to be pleasured the right way. Your bliss is his biggest reward.
"Oh, John oh that's amazing. Fuck I can't believe I've been missing out on this for an entire yea.r"
"Guess we gotta make up for lost time", he grunts back, his other hand sloping up your waist and to your breast, squeezing it nice and with a kind of roughness you would really like to feel more of.
"Oh, yes we do", you agree.
Slow, steady thrusting, though not too gentle, he works you so expertly, squeezing more and more delightful sounds out from between your pretty lips. You're pleased to hear the ragged grunts he lets out too, all because of the way that your tight pussy wraps around his aching cock.
"John, please tell me you're close because I'm-"
"Me too", he cuts you off, his thrusts starting to build in intensity.
"I can cum inside, right? I'm sorry- told myself I wouldn't bring it up- not during our first time but shit, I gotta-"
"Yes. I want you to cum inside I really fucking do", you grant him hasty but wholly sincere permission.
"Thank fuck", he utters with relief.
Free hand slipping between your sweaty bodies, you circle your swollen clit nice and quick, stirring all of that delicious pressure, building and building and building until-
The feeling of him cumming inside you carries you through the wicked snap of your orgasm. Hot, viscous wetness shoots out in ropes persistently, so much that you're not surprised to feel it find its way out of you from around John's cock.
It's at this particular part of having sex that you're usually, and not so kindly, urged out of bed. After serving your "purpose" as Derek saw it, it was like he couldn't wait to get rid of you.
Actually, it was exactly that. He could not wait to get rid of you.
That's not how you want this particular encounter end, however.
It's why you take it upon yourself to wrap your legs around John's waist, ankles locked together down the small of his back. Despite already agreeing to having him cum inside, you feel the need to make sure that he does and that he stays long enough for the both of you to enjoy it through the come down. John might be a strong man but there's no breaking out of the hold you've got on him right now.
"Don't worry baby, I'm not going anywhere", he teases, sensing your whispering apprehension, his forehead coming down to rest against yours.
"Just making sure", you answer with a giggle.
"Oh, before I forget."
From where you're both positioned on his bed, John's able to reach down and pick your phone up from where you'd discarded it earlier, his cock still very much buried all the way inside you.
Once the device lights up with a press of his finger, he holds it up to you and has you press in your passcode to unlock it.
"John, what are you doing?", you ask once he's granted access.
"Just think it would be rude if we left Derek on read."
You watch on and get the gist as he pulls up your camera, your cheeks burning as he manages to pull back enough and snap a picture of his cock still in you, cum and cream all over the you both.
"Here," he hands it back to you to do the honors.
For a moment, you stall, really considering if you ought to go ahead with this.
And then you remember just how irredeemable Derek is and it's enough to make you punch in a quick 'busy', to caption the filthy picture, pressing send with a grin full of perverse excitement.
"Don't think I'll be hearing from him ever again", you chuckle with relief, watching on as John places your phone aside.
"That's good news. We ought to celebrate", he offers.
"Yeah? what do you have in mind?"
John grins.
"More of this", he suggests, playfully patting at your mound.
"That's exactly what I was hoping you'd say", you smile back.
Sneaky lil peek at what what's coming next😉
Sneaky lil peek at what what's coming next😉
