Older!Toji who’s got you in his lap, big hands covering yours and properly teaching you how to roll a blunt because he’s sick of you begging him to roll for you and then running off with his weed with your friends.

While most boyfriends will caress their girlfriend’s cheek first, Older!Toji who has his hand around your throat while lifting your chin up to look at him. And when you’re stupidly smiling and blushing up at him he’ll snicker, “There’s my pretty girl.”

Older!Toji who pats his lap when he wants to seriously talk to you, letting his big arms wrap abound your waist and rubbing circles with his thumb.

Older!Toji who’s (mostly) retired from taking “odd jobs” and works as a carpenter. He’s always complaining about the job and how is back aches and begging you to give him a massage because your hands just feel so good. He’s a groaning and moaning mess once you finally get the tension out a certain spot, “Fuuuck, I’m gonna eat that pussy so nice when you finish, oh my gAWD baby!” But he falls fast asleep right after everytime. Don’t worry though, eating you sloppy for an extremely late dinner when he wakes up.

Older!Toji who just doesn’t have the patience to pay bills anymore so he tells you to do it with his card. But he’s always hovering over you telling you exactly how to do it, and when you tell him to piss off of your non existent so you can work your magic, he snatches your chin with his fingers, gritting, “Watch your fuckin mouth kid.”

Older!Toji playing whatever music is on your shared playlist from Megan Thee Stallion to The Maria’s. Future to Men I Trust to PinkPantheress— Toji will play it even if he doesn’t know any of it. Anything to make sure you’re comfortable.

Okay maybe he does play Bigger In Texas by Megan or Sugar by Men I Trust more than he’ll admit. Perhaps!!!

Older!Toji who still manages to have the sex drive of a demon so yeah, after a long week of lifting and building and delivering orders, he’s fucking you around the apartment, upward, downward, sideways, plowing down it in your sopping hole while he sits on the damn couch and you’re back is on the fucking ground, using your legs for leverage while his fat balls slap against your asshole— you fucking name it. He’s doing it, just until you’re knocked out and your pussy is stuffed, leaking his cum onto the couch. A western playing on the tv, cigerette lit and hanging from his lips while he brushes your curls back in his lap. And you’re pretty just like this, skin glowing in the tv hue, he’ll bend down and kiss your cheek, mumbling, “So good f’me doll.”

Older!Toji who’s always feeding you, randomly has a snack just for you on him when you meet him after class. Or has you sat on the kitchen counter feeding you the curry and rice he’s just made. Wiping the remnants from your mouth with his thumb, and then patting your now full stomach, “Good job, eat so well.” If he had time, he’d probably make your lunch instead of the other way around. He loves watching you eat good.

Older!Toji who grumbles and scuffs and still acts like he’s tight on cash but always shoo’s you off and tell you to, “Buy the fucking store mama, I don’t give a shit.” He just wants to see you happy. Even if it does mean buying and wearing this matching hello Kitty pajama pants (that he loves to wear because they’re super comfy).

a/n: I don’t know. I genuinely just don’t know what this is. Every time I write for Toji I just don’t think anyone likes it but me. Anyway, Toji has seen Lamp live 3 times (iykyk).

Raspberry Girl masterlist + AO3 Simon Riley/female reader *daddy kink, comfort/caretaking

The cracks appear at noon. 

Raspberry Girl masterlist + AO3 Simon Riley/female reader *period/blood, daddy kink

You stay in bed too long. 

John Price has a plethora of pictures of his younger fiancée on his phone.

Everyone’s already astonished that he is getting married for the first time (again) but then they find out he’s ten years your senior and stunning.

You’re his Lock Screen (of course), one of the ones you can press down and it’ll show a video or something. And it’s you there with your eyes crossed doing duck lips, and when it moves, it raising the camera above your head and kissing John. Everyone wants to see who the cute girl is.

So no, when they ask to see pictures of you, hes not showing the family friendly ones you take outside of a cafe or a cute selfie together— no John has his favorite stash that not even you can get into. Full of his favorite pictures of you. And sure, he’s not the best photo taker in the world, he’s not the best with technology. A chunk of his camera role are blurry pictures, the okay quality ones and then the selfies you take that he sends from your phone because he loves looking at you. He has to be stocked up while he’s away.

But once the man learned how to screenshot on his computer while you had your video calls— ooooh everything changed.

They’re low quality screenshots, a lot of off guards, you smiling at the camera with one of your pet frenchies in your arms to the camera, ones when you had that sultry smile when you were utterly in love with John, head in your hand. Or your feet kicked up on the bed, just got home from a long day of work, glasses low on your nose.

And then his magnum opus that he did show to the boys—

Your curls were all to one side, you were tired, your eyes low, leaned back in the chair and looking right at the camera. A glass of scotch to your plump lips and one of his lit cigars inbetween your fingers, in one of his shirts that went just below your hips, nipples peaking through the fabric, and gorgeous bare legs crossed.

Too captivating for your own good.

The whole crew was suddenly ready to meet steal you.

But John’s greedy, no sharing.

Okay, maybe he did show them that one low quality video he took on his old phone, one of you getting up from the bed, your back to the camera with just panties that covering your plump ass on.

But nothing else, he swears!

a/n: I was listening to Crown Royal by Jill Scott. Yeah… yeah. This is shameless!john but at the same time not but kinda!

I think about this a lot

(simon riley x f!reader, same rank!)

violence, cod inaccuracies, reader is a badass

simon riley never calls you baby

until he does.

You were so fucked.

It was the only thing you could think as you looked at the rest of your team in their gas masks, yours lying shattered on the floor.

You’d gotten some intel about a new terrorist weapon being manufactured in this warehouse. The tip said it was gaseous, so you had come prepared with gas masks. From the surveying the team had done, the warehouse seemed fairly empty. You entered on a stealth basis, hoping to get a sample, maybe sabotage the production, and get out. Of course, things are never that simple.

The team was split up: Ghost and Soap on gathering info from the office, Price on overwatch, Gaz getting a sample of gas, and you setting charges to destroy the warehouse. But of course, just when you thought you had all the enemies accounted for, one came in from a side door in your blind spot. The only warning you got was,

“We have one entering the warehouse from the west.” Came Price’s gruff voice over the comms.

By that time, you were already grappling on the ground, both having knocked your weapons away from each other.

“I’m seeing that, thank you!” You struggled out through the strain of the fight. “We’ve gone loud! I’m in contact—“

The enemy rips the gas mask from your face. “Shit!”

“How copy?” You hear Ghost but you’re currently in an arm wrestle over a gun, “we’re on our way to your last known location, hold on.”

You win the arm wrestle, securing your gun and aiming it at the enemy. In a last ditch effort to save his ass, he lunges for a lever on a tank next to you, ripping open a valve and sending a rush of green gas directly into your face.

You flinch away, abandoning your aim in favor of finding clean air. But you’ve already inhaled, you can feel it stinging your throat and lungs, causing you to cough violently.

“—status? Come in, sitrep now!” You barely hear Price, your brain getting fuzzy fast. The lines of the building start warping, contorting and stretching until the walls look they’re falling on top of you. When you look down at your hands they’re covered in blood, several fingers missing. A roach crawls from the back of your hand to start skittering up your arm. You try to swat it away, breathing heavily and shuffling back. More bugs now, crawling all over you. You don’t know where they came from or what to do, you can barely comprehend everything you’re seeing.

So when you started to scream, your comms still open, their hearts drop. Ghost and Soap round the corner fast, quickly followed by Gaz and Price busting through separate doors.

They don’t know what to make of what they see. You’re hyperventilating, brushing your arms and shaking out, squirming on the floor like you’re trying to get something off of you.

“Get off!” You screech, alongside other barely sensical pleas. Ghost shoots forward to grab your arms and stop your struggling. But when you’re faced with a large, scary man in a skull mask, it just sets you off more.

You see a man whose face is melting off to reveal the skull underneath, grabbing at you with sharp claws and shouting in your face. Suddenly you don’t care about the roaches, a new fresh monster greats you.

Your screaming gets worse, shoving harshly at Ghost, “no no no, stop!”

You’ve attracted the attention of the other people in the warehouse.

“Fuck…Ghost, Soap, sort that out and get to exfil! Gaz, you’re with me, we’re holding here!” Price gives the order.

You’re frightened by this face-melt man. “Please don’t hurt me!” You cry out. Simon’s heart breaks a little. You’ve never been scared of him before.

Simon rips off his mask, “hey! It’s me, it’s Simon!” He’s trying to make sense of what you’re seeing, why you’re so freaked out. He doesn’t care right now about the dangers of taking the mask off. He just cares about you.

Johnny comes next to you both, crouching down to help. “Hey, there, birdie…they gotcha good, eh?” He speaks like he’s trying to calm a spooked dog. He shares a concerned glance with Simon.

Your breathing slows marginally, recognizing their faces but not understanding what’s real, brain going too slow to understand what they’re saying.

A sob bubbles out, “what’s happening?”

“Not sure, sweet’eart, but we gotcha,” Simon grunts out while swooping you up.

The world tilts, nausea filling you quickly. You let out a whine.

“‘S alrigh’, hen, we’re gettin’ ya outta here.”

The rest is a bit of a blur. You hear gunshots and feel the jostle of being carried. It’s hard to differentiate between what’s real and what’s your scary, gas-induced visions. They get you into the exit vehicle, and Price and Gaz pull out of the building, blowing it up with the charges you managed to set.

Still, you’re inconsolable. Screaming and crying and shaking. Nothing they do makes any difference. They just have to sit there and listen to you suffer. They try to hide their flinches at your noises of fear. It takes a while, but finally you settle and pass out.

Eventually, hours later, you find yourself in the exfil vehicle, laying in the back with your head on Kyle’s lap.

“Hey, pretty…how we feelin’?”

You still feel dizzy and slightly nauseous, and you sense you’re missing some time. Looking around, the walls are no longer warping and Kyle looks…normal. Not like he’ll become a scary monster at the drop of a hat.

“Wha—“ you try to get out, but your throat is incredibly sore.

“Johnny, water.” Kyle demands.

He sits you up and you’re able to drink some water and get your bearings, trying to ignore the concerned looks being not-so-subtly thrown your way.

Finally when you’re ready, “what happened?”

They all toss glances to one another, asking without words who will get the duty of explaining.

John speaks first, “some sort of…hallucinogenic gas, as far as we can figure. There was some in the air and you didn’t have your mask. You were…distressed, to say the least. Going on about stuff that wasn’t there.”

You think about the things you saw, flinching a little at the memory. You rub your head, “right…shit, did we destroy the compound?” Your head shoots up at the thought.

“It’s gone.” John assures. “We’re getting you medical ASAP. Don’t know the full effects.”

Normally you’d argue, spew some bull about being fine. But to tell the truth, you felt like shit. You just nodded and mumbled an “m’kay” before looking out the window. Which did nothing except concern them more.

John spent most of the ride looking in the rear view mirror to see you. Kyle ended up pulling you down to have your head on his lap again, while your legs went to Johnny’s lap. Kyle rubbed your head at one mention of a headache, whereas Johnny found comfort in caressing the exposed strip of your ankle. Simon reached back from the front seat to grab your hand, and all the assurance from them meant you were quick to find sleep.

You didn’t wake up again until you were in the base hospital, still surrounded by your boys.

suggestive content below the cut

simon riley with a bird that works hard.

she’s a teacher, works with the young kids. they’re extra rowdy this time of year, antsy because it's almost time for break, but still in the throes of mid year assessments.

she spends half the day projecting her voice to catch their attention and the other half correcting their behavior. she comes home every day and puts on the kettle, before going to the shower, turning the water as hot as it can go, washing away the day.

it’s when she’s lying down for bed that night that she feels it. the little scratching in the back of her throat, dry like her pharynx has turned to sandpaper. She takes a few sips of water, hoping for it to just be some minor dehydration, only to be severely disappointed when it in fact does not go away.

tags .ᐟ 7.1k. reader & sukuna are both in college. nsfw. best friend's other brother. oral m & f. dry hump lol. unprotected sex. creampie. missionary. size kink. dirty talk. light dom. praise kink. teasing. arm pinning. post sex teasing. kinda possessive behavior? unedited per usual, cause we don't believe in that over here !!

you’ve been in their house since you were old enough to walk. same backyard. same childhood summers. same loud dinners where yuji talked with his mouth full and sukuna pretended he wasn’t listening even though he always was.

yuji was your best friend before you even understood what best friends were. sukuna was the older one—a few grades ahead, always taller, always heavier-footed, always lurking on the edges of things like he’d been born allergic to attention.

the three of you were tangled together in that inevitable, you-grew-up-next-door kind of way. not siblings, not cousins, not childhood sweethearts. just that messy, familiar constellation of people you simply belonged to.

bulking season hits ryomen sukuna like a religious calling. one morning you wake up and he’s already at the foot of the bed pulling on a hoodie that somehow still can’t contain his shoulders. he’s heavier this time of year—thicker, all that gym time turning into dense muscle that makes your brain short-circuit every time he walks past you.

his neck is wider, veins popping even when he’s relaxed. his traps sit high enough that half his shirts stretch weird over them. his chest is ridiculous now—the kind of chest that makes you sink into him like a weighted blanket when he pulls you close.

his waist is still tight, but his stomach? bigger, firmer, a bulked-up wall of warmth you can’t stop touching. he grumbles every time you put your cold hands under his hoodie, but he never pushes you away—just mutters, “you’re lucky i’m not cutting,” like he didn’t flex for you two minutes earlier.

his thighs are the worst temptation. they’ve always been big, but now they’re monstrous—thick enough that when he sits down the fabric of his sweats strains, thick enough that sitting on his lap feels like sitting on a damn radiator. he spreads his legs wider without thinking, smug when he pulls you between them.

even his hugs hit different. heavier, warmer. he wraps those giant arms around you and your face disappears into his chest, your feet barely on the ground. he holds you like you’re nothing, like your weight doesn’t register, like winter could never touch you as long as he’s there.

and he knows the effect he has. he’ll catch you staring while he’s meal-prepping some insane seven-egg, two-avocado, mystery-meat bowl and smirk without looking up. “stop eye-fucking me, brat,” he says, stirring lazily, “unless you’re planning on doing something about it.”

and at night? he’s hot as hell—literally. a walking furnace. you wake up sweating because he sleeps with one huge arm slung over your waist, dragging you into his chest like you’re part of him. he growls in his sleep if you try to escape.

“cold?” he mumbles into your neck at 3am, voice gravelly and half-asleep. you nod. he grunts, rolls on top of you, and covers you like a weighted comforter made of pure muscle.

“better?”

yes. obviously yes. because if winter is brutal, sukuna in bulking mode is the cure—a big, warm, terrifyingly jacked boyfriend who keeps you insulated, pinned, claimed, and overheated in every possible way.

© sukurena — do not copy, repost, or translate my work !!

Raspberry Girl Previous + masterlist + AO3 Simon Riley/female reader CW: 18+ daddy kink, sickfic, SFW, requested.

Mara is surprised to see him. "Hey Captain Riley."

SWEET CHALET

— bakugou katsuki x reader

“well, it is your fault for keeping your relationship a secret for so long. how was i supposed to know you’d want to share a bed?”

your friend kirishima directs this question to your boyfriend bakugou as all three at you stare at an old wooden rickety bunk bed. you were the first one to be down for a cabin holiday with your friends at the end of the year. marshmellow roastings, campfires, gloves, hot chocolate and kisses on the tip of your nose. until you realised you were slow to tell your friends you’ve actually been dating the grumpy blonde and now you’re stuck sharing a teeny tiny room with a bunk bed you hope can fit him.

honestly to you, it wasn’t that big of a deal. you were still in a room with him but you were sure that if bakugou stared at the bed any longer, it would set on fire. he’d be happy about that too.

“but you still made us share a room? shoulda got us two separate rooms with bigger fuckin’ beds,” he grunts, crossing his arms across his chest with his black suitcase on his right and your suitcase on his left.

kirishima laughs with a shrug, “that was on kaminari, he thought making you share would push you guys to be together. guess you both were way ahead of us.”

you roll your eyes with a grin while bakugou grunts.

“well i’m taking top bunk. i’m not letting you crush me during the night,” you announce, hanging up your jacket and pushing your suitcase to the ground to get ready for bed.

“i’ll leave you both to it then, see you in the morning!”

after saying your goodnight to the red head, you look up to find your boyfriend still frowning.

“i want another room. i’ll go out and find a hotel,” he states, shaking his head.

Tell Me What’s Wrong

John Price x Fem!Reader

Summary: Reader has been acting odd so John finds a way to figure out why

—————

When you first started dating John, you knew what to expect: the lonely nights of uncertainty, the random thoughts of the worst possible scenarios, and then the relief when he returned. It was the price (pun intended) of having a good man—a good soldier.

But, now, there was a nagging in your gut, a feeling that was always there before he shipped back off. Usually, it was normal, but this time it had you feeling apprehensive around him. You barely looked him in the eye when you spoke, or, when you did, it was quick as if you didn’t want to talk for too long.

At first, John thought your cycle was on the way, recognizing some of the mannerisms when it was around that time, but he dismissed that idea because he tracks your period (of course) and you’d already had it. So, he kept wondering, albeit a little uptight because you weren’t sharing what was wrong.

John Price is a patient man, but this was really bugging him. He wanted to fix whatever was wrong or even just know so he could comfort you, but you weren’t giving anything up. He was frustrated with the situation but wouldn’t push you out of your comfort zone.

Although, the camel’s back snapped when you two went out. John watched as your eyes didn’t light up at every item in the store, your hand seemingly holding him tighter but also keeping him loose in your grasp, your words coming out mumbled and uninterested. When John cut the small outing short, you didn’t even seem surprised, just…somewhere else.

When you two got home, with John vibrating in frustration the whole way there, he was quick to address the elephant in the room.

“C’mere,” he sat on your bed, clothes still on but you couldn’t be bothered to scold him, instead you stared at him nervously.

“W-what?” You asked innocently, as if your behavior recently hadn’t made John a bomb even MacTavish couldn’t dissect.

He crooked his finger, ushering you close and patting his thigh in invitation. You knew what that meant, and despite your hesitance, you knew you could break the scene with one word, but you didn’t.

If this was the way to coax the truth out of you, then John would do just that.

You came over to him, hands holding the ruffles of your skirt in a death grip. You expected him to strip you, but when you looked at his eyes there was nothing but impatience and something a little deeper underneath.

“You know what to do,” John sat back, making space for you to lay your stomach across his meaty thighs. “Now,” he lifted your hips higher, making your back arch and ass poke up in the air, "What' s goin’ on wit’ you, hmm?” He pushed your skirt up, revealing the simple cotton panties underneath, rubbing your ass gently.

When you didn’t answer, just digging your face deeper into the bed, he pulled and snapped the elastic back on your skin, causing a startled yelp to leave you.

You were still quiet, causing him to tsk and pull your panties off. There was no denying how wet you already were, but you would never admit explicitly that this turned you on.

When he gathered your slick with a growl, you tried to push back on the pleasurable sensation, immediately being denied.

“Ah, ah,” he palmed your ass to hold you still, squeezing and playing with a cheek to entertain himself, “tell me what’s wrong first, love.”

Despite his sweet tone, his voice was laced in command. You were anticipating what came next, but it still took you by surprise.

One firm smack to your ass had you moaning aloud and shuddering underneath him, but still, you didn’t say anything .

“No? Okay.” another smack to your ass—harder this time and on the other cheek. The way his hand lay flat afterwards was nothing but a taunt, a warning that he’d do it again as many times as necessary.

But you doubled down in your silence, shooting him a mock glare and failing to look threatening as your face became hotter and hotter.

“Just tell me, sweetheart,” before you could blink, another slap against your ass echoed off the walls, deepening the hand mark that was developing.

You weren’t gonna sit right for a while.

Dropping your head again, you let out a shaky breath, nearly breaking under him, but somehow still disobeying.

“Alright then,” John began to land smack after smack, no breaks in between, no talking, just his big paw to your cheeks over and over.

He only stopped when he heard your hushed sobs and felt you shaking violently atop him.

He landed one more quick slap, before rubbing your stinging ass, “You gonna tell me now, sweetheart?”

Tears streaming down your face, soaking the comforter, you nodded, taking shaky breaths as John positioned you to straddle him. You put your head in his neck, wiping your wet face against it and smelling his cologne.

He held you there, cooing and comforting you with kisses and sweet words.

“Did so good for me, darlin’,” he fixed your skirt back, hands rubbing your back in small circles. “Look at me, please?”

When you pulled away, tear tracks drying against your cheeks, you looked at him, already feeling guilty for what you were gonna tell him.

John just palmed your cheek, rubbing against the irritated flesh gently, “What's goin’ on, hmm? Did I do something?”

His words nearly made you start sobbing again, but you held it together and shook your head with vigor.

“Then what, love?” He kissed your head, “tell me.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, leaning your face back down into his neck. Your arms snaked around him, holding him as tight and as close as you could.

“D-don’t want you to go…” it was a bit childish on your part, but it was the truth and you hoped John wouldn’t be annoyed at it.

John’s eyebrows knitted in confusion for a split second before he realized what you meant. Of course! He felt so stupid and neglectful for not putting two and two together before.

A soft smile took over his face as he put a hand in your hair, rubbing it to soothe any residual anxiety you had. “Oh, I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he sounded apologetic, “I didn’t realize; I’m sorry.” He held you just as tight as you held him, pressing kisses to your temple as you embraced.

When your breathing slowed, it took two seconds to realize you were still incredibly aroused. Despite the sweet moment, a spanking from John always had you hot and bothered.

“J-John,” you sounded pathetic as your hips started to rock against his pelvis, “I-I need—”

“I know, I know,” he was quick to softly reassure you, never one to leave you high and dry. “Let me take care of you, love.”

tw big age gap like my man’s dick (fifties!price x twenties!reader), fauxcest yum, cockwarming but it’s oral, unprotected smut (wrap it before you tap it etc etc).

connected to this post.

soon after getting closer to you, before you even got together, price noticed that you almost always chewed gum. if you weren’t chewing gum, you were biting your bottom lip. he can’t even count how many times he’s watched you bite your poor lip until it bleeds in all the time he’s known you.

“christ, kid. stop doing that.” he’ll scold you and use his thumb to wipe the blood, his expression stern even as you pout. it’s honestly infuriating, how attractive you are even as blood runs down your chin.

and when you’re nervous? it’s your poor nails’ turn. john often swats your hand to stop you from ruining your lovely fingers. other times, when he knows you’re going through a rough time and your anxiety is reaching its peak, he’ll bandage all of your fingers to prevent you from damaging your nails or your cuticles.

he takes his role as your dad very seriously.

though, john loves the more fun parts of your oral fixation. you often bite his biceps or his shoulders, hence why one of his nicknames for you is vampire. my little vampire, to be exact. another perk of you wanting things in your mouth often, is all the times he gets to watch you chew on your pen while you study. it gets the old man going, for sure. he likes to watch you as you do an assignment and murmur words of encouragement here and there. seeing you all focused while you leave little bite marks on one of your pens has him shifting in his seat and adjusting his hardening dick. most times your reward for a study session is an orgasm or two. maybe three if you got a lot of things done and he thinks you deserve some extra love.

having his dick in your mouth for a couple of hours is also a great time. sometimes when he watches a game with you at home, not feeling like inviting the lads over, you’ll get between his knees and nuzzle his crotch until he unzips his pants. “such a good kid for yer dad.” he’ll praise you when you wait for him to take his cock out and let you put it in your mouth. you listen to your dad and it’s just makes his cock throb. the football match is over before he realises and he doesn’t even care if his team wins. all he can feel is your warm mouth around him, your occasional hums making him throb and groan. he’ll pet your head and nod, letting you know you can start sucking. coming in your mouth is the ultimate win.

today is a bad day. terrible, even.

you got up an hour earlier than your alarm and couldn’t go back to sleep. you burnt two pieces of bread before you could make proper toast. john dropped you off at the train station, like he does almost every day, but your train was late and when it arrived, it was so crowded. your best friend was sick and a random prick sat next to you instead. the guy really didn’t know what no meant and kept pestering you the whole lecture. he even tried to get your number multiple times, even after you told him you had a boyfriend. what an asshole.

as if all of that weren’t enough, it started raining the second you stepped outside your university when it was supposed to be sunny!

john comes to pick you up from the train station, eager to see his baby after hours being apart. you really have him acting like a damn teenager. but oh, when he’s met with you looking like a wet kitten, all pouty and shivering, he’s frowning more than the time soap decided to prank him by getting rid of his cigars. “oh, kiddo.” he murmurs and wraps his jacket around you before ushering you in the car and turning the heat on.

you’re quiet the whole way home and he doesn’t say anything either. just puts one of the cds he asked you to burn for him, a few different ones with your favourite songs for different occasions. the good thing about being neighbours is that you can get to his house, or he at yours, whenever. so, he leads you to his place for some much needed tlc.

a warm shower and wearing his clothes has your eyes getting teary. you’ve been so overwhelmed all day and you’ve been keeping your composure but you can’t stop the dam from breaking anymore. not when you feel so safe, with john’s scent on you. so you waddle to the kitchen, where he’s making tea, sniffling like a kid after waking up from a nightmare. well, you kind of are a kid to him, aren’t you? in some twisted sense, anyway.

he opens his arms the moment he sees you and wraps them tightly around you once you fall into his chest. “shh, s’ alright, kid. i’m right here. dad’s here.” he shushes you and caresses your back, his heart breaking with each sob that leaves your mouth. you cry and cry until you can’t breathe properly, scaring your old man. he can’t have anything bad happening to his baby. so he taps your cheek a couple times to get you to look up. “open your mouth.” it’s an order, one that you immediately follow, and he smiles before inserting two finger in your mouth.

the way you instantly seem to calm down is very satisfying to john. he watches you fondly as you suck and nibble on his fingers, caressing your cheek with his other hand. “good, yeah?” he murmurs and you hum around his fingers, making a shiver run down his spine.

after a few minutes, you speak up, not taking his fingers off your mouth. “dad. need you, please.” your words are a little muffled but their effect on him is very clear.

“yeah? y’need yer dad, baby?” he asks as he moves his fingers in your mouth. he feels around your teeth, your tongue, your gums… he loves feeling every part of you, wants to commit each detail of you in his memory. a groan leaves his mouth when your hand cups his hard on and he’s quick to remove his fingers before pressing his lips against yours. it’s a messy kiss, teeth clashing and spit getting all over.

it’s not long before you're lying on the kitchen counter, legs spread with john between them. he strokes his dick a couple times before he slides in, making you moan and clutch his biceps. “dad! oh fuck. da-mph.” you whine and whimper as he puts his pointer and middle finger in your mouth again, his hips moving in quick and deep thrusts. you alternate between moaning and sucking on his fingers, biting down when he hits that spot that makes you see stars.

“so fucking tight.” he grunts and keeps pounding into you like a man on a mission. he keep his eyes on you, unable to look away. you’re like an angel, sprawled over the counter with your pretty mouth around his digits. what a sight for sore eyes. “dad’s got you, kiddo. i’ll fuck those yucky feeling away.”

one of your hands finds his free one, intertwining your fingers. you’re not even aware of how it almost makes him cum on the spot. you just keep grinding your hips and suckling on your dads finger. that’s the only thing in your head. dad, dad, dad. all that matters.

“let go for dad, kiddo.” price uses that tone that has you complying immediately. he can feel you spasming and clenching around him while your fingers dip in his hand, your other hand gripping his so tightly that it has him groaning in pain. it’s enough to push him to the edge, his seed filling you up.

he lets you settle down for a few minutes before he pulls out. “i know. i know, baby. i’m sorry.” he murmurs when you wince and rubs your thigh as he watches his cum drop out of you. “jesus christ. can’t ever get enough of this.”

18+ p in v, cockwarming, poly

johnny loved to game. when he gamed, you were there, sat on his lap with his cock inside of you.

he'd already fucked you to exhaustion. you were laying against him, eyes closed with your head on his shoulder. you were both perfectly content.

for once, johnny was gaming quietly. when he did get a little frustrated and loud, you grumbled against him. he quietened down and kissed your head gently.

simon couldn't find either of you. admittedly, he hadn't tried very hard, enjoying the peace and quiet that, for once, permeated your apartment.

but then he tried to find the both of you.

it was rather obvious where you were, looking back. not the kitchen, bedroom or living room, you were bound to be in johnny's gaming room.

light flooded into the room. you groaned and covered your eyes, but johnny shushed you gently and kissed your head.

"sweet'eart," simon mumbled as he approached the two of you.

finally, you looked up at him. "hi, simon," you whispered and kissed his hand.

"johnny."

johnny didn't tear his eyes away from the screen. "lt," he said, hips bucking up in celebration when he completed the level.

you released a moan.

"christ, fuckin' horny mutt," simon mumbled when he took in the look on your face. "he fillin' you up, princess?" he asked and you nodded pathetically. "want me to take you to bed and fuck you good?" he asked and you nodded pathetically again.

simon kissed johnnys head before he pulled you away from him and carried you back to the bedroom.