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the-goddess-of-mischief-writing · 1 month

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Bouncer Ghost blurb

Just thought about Ghost as a bouncer

Thinking about how you and your friends would go to the pub/club he’s working at, the large man catching your eye and keeping your attention the second you spot him at the entrance

Bouncer!ghost is big, shoulders broad, towering over everyone, has biceps bulging even through his hoodie as he has arms crossed somehow leisurely over his chest, hands big as paws wrapped around those thick arms, the face-covering and hood pulled up making him no less intimidating

For some reason, bouncer!ghost would have you nervously fishing out your ID, fingers tapping against your upper thigh as his darks eyes flickers from your face and down to your photo

A grunt would be the only thing preceding bouncer!ghost’s eyes falling to yours before he hands your ID back again, and you wouldn’t be able to contain the shiver running down your spine as he cocks his head backwards, directing your group inwards as he retake his previous position

Bouncer!ghost would not leave your mind, no matter your friends trying to entice you with the guys scattered around the place, the memory of the huge man making you scrunch your nose at whoever they pointed towards

Each time you glanced around the space, you would drag out the moment when you looked in the direction of the entrance, indulging in how you could watch bouncer!ghost through the window

And as if the universe hears your debauched thoughts about the man, your friend excuses herself to go for a smoke, an opportunity that you jump at quickly enough your friends are almost shocked

You don’t smoke, yet still you exit the building with your friend, something in your chest fluttering as bouncer!ghost’s gaze meet yours briefly, enough for you to give him a small smile as a formal greeting much like your friend did just second earlier, before moving past him and to the arranged smoking area

With bouncer!ghost in your close vicinity again, the drinks you’ve had suddenly feels a lot stronger as you giggle along with your friend as she lights a cig

As someone else asks your friends for a lighter, you advert your eyes to bouncer!ghost, appreciating the view he offers at the entrance as he talks to two guys who even they need to look up at him, god he’s just so big

You would return back inside with nearly dragging feet once your friend is done, having no reason to remain, but your chest flutters a last time as bouncer!ghost spots you nearing and hauls the door open for you

Your smile would be much timider this time around at his action despite telling yourself it’s nothing but custom, yet as you enter first and look back to talk with your friend, your eyes move over her shoulder to meet the brown ones looking after the two of you, feeding your delusion that maybe, maybe there was another reason behind bouncer!ghost’s action

Less than thirty minutes later, without your friend this time, you excuse yourself from your group, needing some fresh air

You don’t even know why you did it, the air not much fresher due the smokers scattered in the caged-in part of the sidewalk outside the building, or yes you did, your eyes flitting and briefly meeting bouncer!ghost’s as he notes your presence as you angle your body to pass him despite the lack of queue to enter

You exhale heavily once you lean against the building’s facade, stone digging into your back, the smell of smoke less potent with much fewer smokers huddled in the area compared to earlier

You try to make your glance around smooth, but when you look to the left, your eyes briefly connect with the pair of brown eyes already upon you

Something about bouncer!ghost makes a warmth erupt in your body and your attention to hastily flicker away, instinctually to the ground before you catch yourself and try to look to the side at the other people catching a break form the stuffy air inside

“Forgot your fag?” The slightly muffled but clearly deep voice catches you off guard, eyes widening as your attention is pulled to the side, bouncer!ghost now having his mask rolled to the bridg of his nose, cigarette currently being lightened between his lips

“M’no”, you answer makes his eyes flicker side-ways to eye you, releasing a deep exhale of smoke into the air as he drops his hand, pocketing the lighter

“Didn’t think I saw one earlier”, he says before taking another inhale, directing his eyes forwards before surveying the immediate area

“What?”

“Ya didn’t have a smoke earlier, only your friend”. Were you shocked he’d noticed? Yes, you were, as you hadn’t noticed him paying as much attention to you as you’d done him.

“No, not a fan”, you explained.

“Why you here then, ain’t much fresh air?” Did you imagine the tug in his lips? No, the same cockiness making his sentence sound more like a statement than question was evident in his eyes when he looked at you.

It made you mouth fall open, before you pressed your lips together and you gave him a shrug, adverting your eyes.

Through the corner of your eye, you noticed how he crushed the remaining cigarette beneath his booth with a confident grind of his foot, suggesting your lack of answer was enough for him to know why. If he didn’t already.

“Think that’s enough air for now”, you excused yourself at the realisation, hearing a gruff sounding chuckle follow your informal end to your joint presence.

“Know where to find me”. Your head snapped upwards towards him as you turned to move to the entrance, effectively also towards him. His eyes hints at his amusement instead of a smirk as he now had pulled down his mask, but you knew the same quirk of his lips as earlier was hidden beneath it.

You couldn’t help how your eyes widened when he gave you a wink upon having caught your attention, nor how your body set alight as he stepped in front of you, making you look up at him, as he opens the door for you again

Bouncer!ghost would notch his head forward to look at you, and if he didn’t square his shoulders and grow another inch in satisfaction when he saw your flustered state

It felt like you had a searing heat in the back of your head the rest of the evening, your friends not helping as they pestered you about the interaction they’d seen

And those very friends would be the ones who pushed you towards bouncer!ghost when you wrapped up your stay to head to the next place

“Asking me on the clock?” You could bet one of his brows raised beneath that mask of his if his cocky tone was anything to go by when you stepped up to him, your friends not too far away down the street.

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes despite the wavering flutter in your chest at the prospect of having bouncer!ghost reject your advance. “Can just say no and tell me to fuck off”.

The bite in you tone after a few more drinks, not nearly to make you drunk but enough to loosen your nerves, apparently amuses bouncer!ghost as he chuckles deeply and takes your phone from you, the device comically smaller in his hands than yours the brief moment he taps the screen. He hands it back locked and with the edge pinched between his forefinger and thumb, so nonchalant in his action.

“Ask your friend to take a picture if you end up on the curb”, it’s mocking, but not mean, having you shoot him a deadpan look that don’t last long as your friends squeals makes your break into a grin.

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the-goddess-of-mischief-writing · 1 month

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#john price cod

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the-goddess-of-mischief-writing · 1 month

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Sideways waltz

summary: Price wakes up with a boner and with you sleeping right next to him he can't help himself.

pairing: cpt. John Price x reader (sunshine universe)

tags/tw: afab!reader, mention of canon related injury, NSFW, mdni 18+ please and thank you, clothed grinding, slight somno (consensual), p in v, teasing, unprotected sex, creampie, implied age-gap, Price's pov

a/n: sigh, I wish Price could start my mornings like this

Sunshine universe MASTERLIST & John Price MASTERLIST

It wasn't unusual for Price to wake up before you. If anything, it was the typical routine.

If he felt cheery enough and if it wasn't the typical British weather outside, he could fill the time between his and your sleeping schedule with a run. Other times, if his body was sore after deployment or the weather was far from perfect —because he dealt with enough piss-poor climates while out in the field to willingly venture into one while at home— he would stay inside, either right by your side or in an adjacent room.

With the hazardous melting of snow outside and his injury, Price was less willing to leave the warmth of sharing a bed with you. The past month was proof, as he more or less found himself right by your side as you woke up every day.

It settled a comfort in his body, one that eased his sharp wake-ups dwelling from deployment. Rather than rousing quickly and clearly with a single opening of his eyes, it was a gradual rising to consciousness, one where he felt his surroundings before observing them— the warmth wrapped around him, the softness giving away beneath the weight of his body, the dull discomfort that grew more tolerable each week beneath his skin.

What was neither as peaceful nor as common was that he woke up due to a raging boner.

It was the first thing Price felt as his consciousness slipped closer, and sleep gave way to his senses. A prickling heat in his limbs. The throbbing between his legs. The uncomfortable restrainment of his underwear. All sensations that made him irritably groan in his emerging slumber.

There were few times he woke with a hard-on. Long over and done with the near-everyday occurrences during his teen years. And less, but still remarkably often, during his twenties. He had grown out of it due to age and the military, or so he thought.

Since getting together with you, Price has found himself waking up with a morning wood much more than he likes to admit. Sometimes, it happened when he'd spent the day with you before deployment, and his mind didn't register that he was on duty again but expected you nuzzled close within his frame. But most of the time, it happened when you were sleeping by his side.

You never seemed to mind if you woke to find his cock rock hard against you. You would only giggle in that newly woken-up fashion that made you seem even softer, somehow finding a way to wiggle closer to him no matter how close you were and with a light, musing voice comment on how 'someone seems excited for this early in the morning'.

Despite always considering it a nuisance, Price couldn't complain all too much about the soft morning sex that always followed. Everything was unhurried, the both of you still waking up.

It was at the top of his ways to indulge in your sweet body, having you so pliant and submissive as you allowed him to pull you close, gentle noises spilling from your lips as he most often slid into you from behind.

In the rare instance you'd woken up facing each other, he got to meet your half-lidded eyes so lovingly gazing at him while that little furrow between your brows and parted lips told him how good it felt to start the day just like that.

And you never failed to mention just how much you loved waking up to him touching your body with a spent smile and eyes still closed as you returned from your high.

As on cue, you were the second thing his gradually awakening mind registered.

Price felt your warmth much further away than he desired. When his eyes ultimately opened with a heaved sigh, he found you in a similar side-ways position as him, facing away as the covers reached your ribcage. You were still soundly asleep, even and deep breaths whispering you were none the wiser of his situation.

It was never hard to lean over, loop his arm around your waist, and slide you over to him, like it was the natural cause of action from how it settled a deep, sated feeling in his chest and from how you always settled right against him as if your unconscious knew what was happening, fidgeting until you settled with a heavy sigh and went still again.

God, Price loved how perfectly you fit against him, his thick bicep filling the dip of your waist as he burrowed his face into your neck.

He inhaled deeply, your hair tickling his cheeks much softer than what his beard on the daily must do to you. You smelled fresh —your body-wash from the night before still lingering— and something inherently sweet that always lingered on your skin. Price could drown in your scent that clouds his mind with pleasant thoughts and memories. All of which intensifies the heat in his gut, the throbbing need making his cock twitch.

The first roll of his hips is unconscious, but the relief it brings makes the second a chase for more.

It's a dull pleasure, the worn-soft material of his underwear an unwanted barrier as Price rubs himself against your backside. And yet, he finds himself unable to push any clothing aside, still drowsy and desperate enough that he only shuffles his hips, angling himself to grind just beneath the swell of your ass.

Price shudders at the sensation, expertly muffling his groan not to ring too loudly this close to your ears. It's addicting. You are addicting, you and your soft, warm body with no choice but to accept his lust-stricken action.

He shuffles impossibly closer, momentarily dropping his hand to shift himself in his pants so his member slots between your thighs.

Price needs to bite his lip forcefully as his eyes press harshly shut, his sharp exhale disturbing your hair when the head of his cock juts against your panty-covered core.

With the groan brewing in his throat, hand fisting the dark shirt covering your body, he moves his lips to your nape, occupying himself by kissing you gently as he starts moving his hips, thick cock twitching between your thighs.

More, he needs to feel more.

Price rucks up your, his, sleeping shirt to worm his way beneath it. Your smooth skin makes him exhale gruffly, stomach clenching, hips jumping. So unbelievably soft.

He feels the flush heating your unconscious body as he trails his palm upwards until his big hand settles over your breast. A warmth radiates off of your skin as he gently kneads the soft flesh in his palm, tweaking your nipple into a stiff peak until paying equal attention to the other.

A soft sound escapes you, a low whine stuck in your chest. It doesn't deter Price. If anything, it sends a shiver down his spine, causing his fingers to pinch your nipple just a tad bit harder.

He grinds more directly against you now, the tip of his cock knocking against your entrance and sliding along the covered heat of your pussy, presumably knocking against your clit from how your body twitches and legs clamp together.

The groan he's been holding off claws out of his chest, guttural and pleasured as your soft flesh nearly traps him between your thighs so perfectly when he rocks his hips. However, his action finally ceases when you continue to stir, your body squirming and breaths switching from deep to stuttering.

"Mm... John?" Half a pitch deeper and much quieter as you rise from a dream state, your voice made him curl his arm tighter around you, fingers digging into your breast still in his grasp.

"G'mornin'". Price knew you liked the roughness of his morning voice, now no different as he catches your wordless, whine-like reply.

Coming to, you writhe in his arms, hands extending forward then upwards before your body roll as you stretch like a cat.

When your hips rock backwards in your attempt to fend off the sleep in your limbs, the flex of your ass —just an inch, a sweet, sweet inch— has you stilling suddenly, without a doubt feeling the stiffness forced almost between your asscheeks by the angle of his hips and the groan he releases into your hair.

Price feels you take a deep breath, now possibly also noticing his hand on your chest from the added weight. If you'd been facing him, he reckons he would've seen the slow smile spreading on your lips that he now hinted at in your voice as your hand dropped to trail along the skin of his arm not hidden beneath your clothing.

"That's why you're still in bed?"

"Didn't feel like goin' on a run", he humours you lowly. Your chuckle is faint, but he feels it vibrate against his hand.

"Because you wanted some help with that?" You grind backwards.

He answers by knocking his hips forward in return, cock prodding into your crotch from behind once more. You inhale, a swift heave of your chest beneath his hand. Price feels how your cunt throbs and your thighs squeeze, humming contently.

"Did I wake you?"

"Yeah", your voice is gentle, senses concentrating on his hand running down your body.

"Sorry", his apology is christened with a low 'fuck' as his hand slips beneath your panties, feeling your heat radiate against his palm.

"Mm, know I don't -oh", a soft moan breaks your drawled sentence when his fingers find your clit. "Yeah, mhm, don't mind", you finish the sentence breathily as Price starts circling your bundle of nerves.

He coaxes the deep, airy breaths from your lungs along the gentle rocking of your hips as he circles his middle finger over your clit. Your shifting working wonders to grind yourself on his cock.

He sits hot and hard between your legs, wetness seeping through his underwear, a combination of his precum and the slick already having soaked through your panties. The damp fabrics convey the illusion he's got fewer layers between your dripping cunt and his throbbing cock.

"John..." you moan, not continuing your sentence as your hands find his wrist, pushing his hand further into your heat with just a fraction of your usual strength, hinting at your still partly-woken state, all while swivelling your hips to have him push right against your entrance repeatedly.

Your urge is all Price needs to pull his hand from your underwear —amusedly sushing your whining complaint as he stops playing with your clit— to pull his pants down and kick them off his legs. Without the confines of his underwear, he notices his tip is flushed a scarlet pink, dribbling pre-cum.

Hooking your panties aside, he twitches in his fist as he guides himself down the curve of your arse as you arch your spine so prettily for him.

Price grunts deeply as he rocks his hips, now without any of the layers between you keeping him from your wet heat. You stutter out and exhale as he bumps your clit with his rocking while coating himself in the wetness already covering your thighs.

The way the wet walls of your pussy give way to his girth when he finally notches himself against your entrance and pushes in is heavenly. Your drooling heat a silk fist unbelievably softer than his calloused fist ever could come close to.

He grunts something into your skin —praise, he reckons, for opening up to him so good despite nothing more than the unconscious prepping of your body— but can't even dissect precisely what he says himself. But the sound is enough for you as you fidget in return, walls clenching around him in tandem with your already consumed whines as he fills you up.

As he hilts himself, he stays put for a moment, eyes closed, revelling in how tightly you're squeezing him, how close your body presses against his, how your breaths are soft even if they're shaky.

The first few rocks of his hips are slow, a grind more than anything. Deliciously making him slide into your sweet spot on both the drag back and push forth. It has your face shoving into the pillow, sounds muffled as you moan into the fabric.

"Let me hear you", he breathes against the back of your neck as his arm —which up until now had been resting beneath the pillows, clutching the feathery cushioning— moves beneath your neck, anchoring around your upper chest, making his forearm rests right along your clavicle, as Price tugs you flush against his chest.

His strength overpowers yours any other day, but the difference shines even brighter in your present state, as you can't resist him when he forces you out of your hiding.

Your soft breaths and moans fill the air as you let yourself be moved by him, head notching backwards against his shoulder.

His hips move slowly still, pausing with a dirty grind when he bottoms out, the hair on his arms standing up when you whine so wantonly when he hits your pleasurable spots. Yet, he moves with purpose when your hands attempt to wrap around his forearm, fingers not even brushing as your nails crest his skin.

Price slides the hand that has been lodged between your waist and the bed down your body, groping his way over your hip down to your thigh, gripping the soft inner flesh as he directs your leg up and backwards over his leg.

It opens you up, tilting your body backwards against his front, making him sink even deeper into you.

He can't contain his growl of pleasure, mouth falling open, warm breath fanning over your shoulder as his teeth gently dent your skin.

You're partly laying on top of him at this point, half your body elevated from the mattress, cushioned instead by his body. His hips are more beneath you than aligned from behind, the position helping him persistently fuck himself deep.

Price embraces your weight more steadily by once again curling an arm around your mid-drift, elated when your arm curls backwards —tentatively to not knock against his still healing shoulder— and somehow reaches around his neck, submitting yourself to the weightlessness of him propping you up.

Digging his heels into the bed, he snaps his hips upwards. He groans in pleasure when you squeeze him so tight, his head pressing backwards against the pillows. You're in no better state. Sleep a memory as the same need that had woken him guides your hand down your body.

Price senses your fingers as they reach your cunt, a finger settling on either side of where he spreads you open, a pitched moan deflating your lungs as you feel how he repeatedly enters you. His thighs quiver, your much cooler fingers a stark, but not unpleasant, contrast compared to your indulgingly warm cunt.

As you press against the sides of his shaft, feeling the way you clutch to him each time he pulls out, Price knows you disturb the creamy ring that's gradually been developing at the base of him. The messy mixture of fluids now coating your entrance, much like the slickness seeping down the crack of your ass paints his abdomen.

And then your fingers shift upwards, playing with your clit. You grow louder, keening at the added sensation, and Price groans at how the squelching sound of your wet pussy grows when you clench around him.

His beard scratches your ear when he angles it towards you. Although feeling how you twitch at the rough sensation, your body is lax enough that you can't escape it, having Price smiling as he speaks.

"Yeah? That what you needed, love?" Your body attempts to arch, shivering in his hold as he husks the words against the shell of our ear. He doesn't let up on his grip around your waist, forcing you down against him, moulding your body to his as he speeds up his thrusts as if punishing you. "Feels good, does it?" His groaned sentence fades at your moaned 'mhm' as you flutter around him.

He puts more force behind his thrusts, rutting against harshly enough for a slapping sound to fill the room, only muted by the covers still covering your lower bodies. You gasp, clenching hard around him, hurtling his edge dangerously close as he feels you shiver with pleasure.

And then everything grows too blindingly good that the muscles at the back of Price's neck tense before going lax, making him angle his face into the side of your neck, grunting against your skin. The centre point between his shoulder-blades tenses, and a warm shiver runs down his back while his stomach clenches and something in his toes tingles.

Price releases a hoarse groan, his orgasm rolling through his body well before the last drive forward of his hips as he continues rocking into you, barely pulling back, hitting that deepest part inside you, messily coating himself with the cum filling you.

As he leaves his cock to settle inside you, twitching in the warm aftermath, you grind backwards and continue to chase the high that he usually spoils you with reaching first. He feels your desperation, the flexing of your ass, the twitch of your legs that can't close from how he keeps you spread.

With a lazy smirk, his hand moves beneath yours, overtaking and matching the frantic speed of your fingers with his own to let you concentrate solely on the pleasure, making you shiver, and your hips squirm.

You release a broken moan before going silent as you come. If not for how your hand shoots to his, attempting to still his movements, and Price's arm flexing to keep you grounded against his front, you would've curled to your side from how violently you squirmed.

Your body blankets his in a comfortably added weight as you gasp for air, your body twitching as he treats you to a dragged-out release by rolling your engorged clit between his fingers.

It's not until he lets up on his overstimulated teasing, which has your walls massaging his gradually softening cock, that your high ebbs and your entire body seemingly loosens.

Your overstimulated chokes and whines fade, much like the weight of your body as you slump to the side the same second Price straightens his leg, and yours slide down from his thigh.

His arm, still trapped beneath your head, is bathed with your warm breaths. Price rolls with you, spooning you from behind by slotting his knees to the back of yours and enveloping you with his arm, heavy over your waist.

His lips graze your clothed shoulder, pressing kisses until he nuzzles into your neck. You don't speak, and neither does he.

Price catches your breathing, much more laboured and deep than the one fanning back into his face. He can practically envision how your face presses into the mattress, eyes closed, features blissfully relaxed as you try to wring your mind back in place and out of the messy cloud of pleasure you're floating on.

When you finally catch your bearings, you push yourself against his chest, upper body no longer slumped forward.

The slight shift makes Price slip out of you. Though spent, he immediately twitches against your thigh upon feeling the warm aftermath that leeks from between your legs.

Your frame shakes against his seconds before you twist in his embrace to face him.

Your eyes are droopy, barely open as they flutter to meet his gaze through the stray strands of hair covering your face. He brushes away the worst of your unruly curtain, uncloaking your glowing skin, only softened further by the quirk at the edges of your lips.

"Can't be ready for another round that quickly?" Your voice is gritty, not entirely in your power to make it even as pleasure is still evident in the edges.

"Gimme a minute, and we'll... see." His sentence becomes something muttered before the last word, its entirety shorter than when correctly spoken.

His body is heavy, sleep closer now than previously, pleasured stained content making him lazy. And he knows you see it, notices the mock behind his words as his hand doesn't travel down your body but comfortably stays tracing shapes against the small of your back.

You chuckle softly, leaving the first of many kisses against his lips for the day. The peck is soft, making him hum as you leave another against the tip of his nose before nuzzling beneath his chin and into his chest. It is the perfect position for Price to press a kiss against your forehead, his lips lingering against your skin as he can't bother pulling away when you sigh blissfully against him.

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the-goddess-of-mischief-writing · 1 month

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“source?” divine intuition, gut instinct, and cryptic symbolism from my dreams

#when you reach that level in academics

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the-goddess-of-mischief-writing · 1 month

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Reblog if you've ever cried over the death of a fictional character

#rdr2 is one of few games that I’ll never recover from

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the-goddess-of-mischief-writing · 2 months

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what's a tumblr influencer? what am i influencing? my mental illness? 😭

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the-goddess-of-mischief-writing · 2 months

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men

#!!!!!!!!!!#cod men

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the-goddess-of-mischief-writing · 2 months

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check-up 🤕

#!!!!!!!!!!#soap art

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the-goddess-of-mischief-writing · 2 months

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Paperwork

summary: While Price's injury is healing nicely, you're growing needier by the minute. But you're not the only one. With the doctors order in mind, you and Price attempts to stave your hunger by having you cockwarm him in his office.

pairing: cpt. John Price x reader (sunshine universe)

tags/tw: afab!reader, depiction of canon related injury, NSFW, mdni 18+ please and thank you, cockwarming, p in v, teasing, masturbation (f), unprotected sex, creampie, implied age-gap

a/n: Well, that little valentines blurb really helped to get the writing going🫡

Sunshine universe MASTERLIST & John Price MASTERLIST

Christmas passed just as slowly and cosy as you'd predicted, perhaps with one slight change of plans.

You'd returned home the night you'd dropped John from the hospital and helped him settle in somewhat. Despite debating whether to stay the night, your soldier urged you to head home to rest properly after spending so much time away.

You understood he tired of your company. In fact, he had a point, seeing how you wouldn't sleep soundly with him, constantly worrying if you would disturb his sleep by sharing a bed. And you needed a fresh set of clothes anyway. But you also noticed that being hurt took a toll on John. He'd accepted that you would be there to help him, but something told you he needed time to brood over the fact he was on med-leave for the upcoming months.

Once you returned to the flat you'd left in a hurry almost two days ago, you wandered aimlessly, trying to finish setting up your Christmas lights. However, whatever adrenaline the past 48 hours provided finally seemed to ebb, and you crashed on your couch shortly after finishing your task.

By the time you woke up again, it had been dark outside. Dinner that night hadn't been glamorous, partly because you didn't have any finished food in your fridge and partly because you were yet to be hungry from the late lunch you shared with John before leaving his place. Still, the bowl of instant ramen warmed the cold feeling settling in your body from merely looking outside your window and down at the snowy streets.

You slept in the next day, waking up with a warm body and nose slightly chilled from the cool temperature in your room. The rest of the day was slow. You checked in on John with a message around noon, accustomed to reaching out to anyone in your closest circle around that time, seeing how no one usually was up earlier on the weekend, even if John definitely didn't categorise as one of those. He'd given you the awaited broody reply, grumbling about a horrid night of sleep and a dull ache even after taking his prescribed meds.

You stared at his message for a minute until deciding to give him a call rather than answer it.

'Hell, love'.

'God, you really sound worse for wear', was your instinctive response as John greeted you with a rough voice.

'Cheers', he huffed in return, a groan following shortly after. At that moment, you rubbed your forehead, an ache settling in your heart at not being there with him.

'How about I come over today already? Christmas is approaching, and we already said we would celebrate together. Wouldn't hurt if I stayed with you in the upcoming days with your shoulder and all...', you trailed off at the end.

'Know you have no problem with it, but I don't want to take up all your time if you have other things planned', he responded tentatively. 'I've managed worse on my own'.

'Don't have to do it alone anymore'. You reminded him, and with that, he didn't argue.

'Pack your bags, then'.

And you'd packed your bags for a week. Although, by now, you'd stayed two, with the occasional trip back to your flat to swap out some clothes.

John's shoulder healed nicely, even if the process was arduously slow, but at least it meant his injury wasn't inflamed. God forbid you would've seen it like that. While you never counted yourself as squeamish, the first time you'd helped John rid himself of the bandages and the surgical tape that, for a seeable future, needed to be changing once a week, you also remembered that neither had you ever seen a freshly sewn-together wound.

His skin was a deep pink, and the sewn-together parts puckered and elevated from the surrounding areas. You almost shied from pulling the surgical tape the rest of the way when first laying eyes on the injury. Upon seeing the scrunch of your nose and worried glance up his face, John made you step back and do the rest, reassuring you it didn't hurt, just strained unpleasantly if he moved wrong.

While it may not have hurt while gently cleaning the wound the first time and that John now could go without the sling, it didn't mean you didn't notice the pull in his features when he did make a too-fast movement or a shift that pulled at the stitches and deeper-torn tissue. He's still instructed not to carry anything heavy, making you catch a grumble of 'a goddamn month more' as you passed by right before your name was called numerous times.

You didn't chide him from initially thinking he would manage on his own, but you both knew what the look you sent him implied and that his thank-you kiss was a silent acknowledgement that you'd been right. It would've been anything but enjoyable for him if you hadn't spent the past two weeks with him.

Even though only two weeks had passed, you quickly noticed John wasn't a man who could go long periods without doing anything. That didn't mean he couldn't take it easy. As he said himself, he'd learned that skill. But, reading so many books while having x amounts of scotches was only as enjoyable and appropriate as it could be to not count as light alcoholism. John was itching to do something more than sit idly around or keep you company during whatever you did.

So, it wasn't a surprise the first time you found him in his study a few days ago. He'd looked up from the papers with a caught-in-the-act look when you knocked on his study's door, the excuse of work piling up that he needed to look over leaving his lips instantly. You'd never been the one so strict about working when home; your free-lancing job was practically based upon it. Therefore, you'd waved his excuse away, padding into the office you'd barely set foot inside despite the many times you'd visited him.

You'd leant against the side of his desk, not more than casting a quick side-eyed glance on his computer to show you noted its presence but not the contents on the screen before your gaze sought his. Upon your curiosity of what it was, John indulged you in what he occupied himself with.

And just like that, John, who usually was so strict about not working when spending time with you, grew lenient on that rule of thumb, restlessness gnawing at his bones enough to slip away an hour or two each day to occupy his mind. But, you always saw him at the same times during the day, joining you on the couch in his living room or in his bedroom, hijacking the TV remote to follow the post-Christmas football matches.

You jokingly poked his side each time he did, commenting on how there were two TVs in his house if he'd forgotten. But you only got a quirk in his lip and wink in return as he proclaimed he needed to convert you into a fan, teasingly anchoring you to his side with a heavy arm if you threatened to escape.

But you both knew you didn't mind cuddling into his side with your head on his chest, following the matches of the day, only if he started getting too worked up when his team played and jostling your head around too much.

And that settled you into a new routine. While you busied yourself around the house, occasionally working a few days here and there, John watched football and occasionally retreated to his study. Although you left him to his work, he always left his door open, showing you it was free to enter if you desired.

Today was one of those days you did your separate things, not having seen each other much since the breakfast you shared, after which John left you with a kiss and 'know where to find me'.

It had been fine. It is fine. You'd gotten ahead of work for the new year, and John eased his workload gradually. And yet, glancing at your phone screen, you note lunch is overdue.

Sure, today had been slow. You and John had laid in bed for a while, basking in the last of the Christmas spirit the days between Christmas Day and New Year's Eve carried. And so, breakfast had been eaten later than usual, meaning lunch was also to be pushed forward. However, at half past one, John should've emerged from his office for a well-deserved break and shared the task of cooking something.

Putting aside your book, you move from the couch and wander outside the range of the fireplace's warmth. Its fire had long since burned out, and now the only parts glowing were the embering coals.

Your fuzzy socks act as a barrier between your feet and the cold wood beneath as you wander up the stairs. Despite the constant blast of radiators and the fireplace harbouring a non-stop fire, the floor always remains chilly when the temperature drops outside.

Much like the past days, the door to John's study stood ajar. But, compared to earlier, when you'd retrieved something from the bedroom, you didn't only pass it with a glance inside, finding John staring down at his computer with his injured arm resting in his lap as his other scrolled whatever he was going through. Now, you pushed the door open, locating him not behind his desk but seated in one of the two Chesterfield armchairs.

The edge of your mouth quirks upwards as you observe his upper body bent backwards over the low backrest, laptop resting in his lap, kept only from slipping by his hand. As you enter his peripheral vision, he glances in your direction. You offer him a warm smile as you close the distance, moving to stand behind the chair.

"How's it going?" You look down at the head tilted far enough backwards that John can watch you, albeit upside down, from where he sits. He grunts in response, eyebrows raising swiftly as he straightens.

You chuckle, hands that previously rested on the leather sliding to rest on John's shoulders, where you immediately dig your fingers into his muscles. He groans again, but this time, his head dips forward as you follow the tight tendons near his neck.

"That much to do?" You hum as you let up on the pressure, concentrating more on his uninjured side, following the muscles out to his shoulder, only to return and follow his spine to the back of his head.

"Not really". A harsh breath follows John's sentence when you find a knot along his neck and concentrate on easing it with your thumb. "The boys can manage, Laswell too, but whatever's possible to be pushed forward, they leave to me, meanin' things that need readin' through and cleared for the go-ahead".

"Imagine it ain't like that book I gave you", you muse, John only scoffing in return.

"Nothin' like it", he almost grumbles. "Would much rather cosy up with you and read that than this". He flicked the screen with his finger, a semi-metallic, semi-glass tick ringing from his action.

"You know very well you can drop work and cosy up with me and that book anytime you want. You're on leave". You remind him with a small smile, knowing he isn't really complaining.

With this being your first Christmas, you'd agreed to not spend too much on presents, even if you both had bought each other spontaneous gifts before, John being the culprit for spoiling you with expensive things much more often. While he'd gifted you a necklace he'd caught you looking at, you'd gotten him a book he mentioned wanting to read and a cigar to add to his collection. One, that at the moment, remained pretty stagnant as John refrained from having a smoke the first weeks of recovery. But you knew he itched for one, catching him eyeing the container he kept them in more than once.

"Hm, 'bout that", John's head lolled backwards, his gaze locking with yours. "Come here", he cocked his head, motioning for you to move around the chair. You did as he wished while he lodged his feet beneath the furniture's edge, moving the heavy armchair slightly backwards to allow you to stand between him and the low table.

With you now in front of him, John placed his laptop on the wide armrest, leaning forward shortly after. Concerning it being the closest, the hand of his injured arm slipped around your naked lower thigh when he sat forward, your oversized sweater ending just above his hand.

"Said here", John nods to his lap, pressing gently at the back of your leg.

"Your shoulder, John", you lightly scold his insistence, knowing where things would go if you ended up straddling him.

"It's fine". He insisted, tugging at your leg again. This time, you relented somewhat, stepping between his spread legs, the armchair's brown leather cool against your shins.

"The doctor told you to take it easy, let it heal." You reminded him of the instructions he'd received, but now, he scoffed at them.

With his head tilted to the side and displeased crease between his brows, his hand slipped down just an inch. The sudden tug as his fingers dug into the back of your knee took you off guard. It made your leg bend, and to not fall forward, your leg caught the excess seat beside his thigh as you caught yourself on the armrest to keep yourself steady.

You send John a look, as his stunt could've easily made you brace against his shoulder rather than the furniture. But he only cranes his head slightly as you hover over his self-satisfied self, a quirk bowing his lips.

"Takin' it incredibly easy, just you who's makin' me work hard for it". There's a glint in his eyes as his hands slide upwards, massaging the back of your upper thigh from how your dress-like sweater has ridden up somewhat, sneakily trying to urge you to settle entirely on top of him. Even so, you remain hovering.

"Missed you, love". You narrow your eyes at the change in his approach.

"Missed me or something else?"

"Both." John's answer is almost boyish in how a half grin stretches his lips and the cock of his head. You roll your eyes but can't withstand his request any longer, the butterflies in your chest never truly escaping when close to the man.

Climbing into the seat with as much grace as possible, you're mindful of his shoulder, bracing against the opposite side on the backrest to ensure you don't accidentally grip it for support. But the armchair is wide enough for your legs to comfortably slot on either side of his hips, and your hands slide to rest on his abdomen instead.

Now planted in his lap and more accessible to avoid straining his shoulder to reach for you, both of John's hands find purchase on your waist.

"That wasn't too hard, now was it?" He humours you with an arched brow as you shuffle in his lap to make yourself comfortable, only to feel something beneath you.

"No, but something seems to be". You tilt your head, alluding to the semi you slowly felt more prominently in his sweats.

"Haven't felt my girl in nearly a month. Can you blame me?" You shake your head with a huff through your nose, gaze cast down until it returns to his.

"Thought you were confident you wouldn't cave first".

"Never said that", John hums as he curves his back to make himself more comfortable in the armchair, making you settle more firmly over his crotch. "Although I remember you sayin' you could go the longest without a proper fuck". He dares you to deny it with a cock of his brows.

You roll your eyes but don't technically argue against him. "With how you are speaking, I could think you're growing desperate".

He clicks his tongue. "Can't guilt trip me for missin' your warm cunt".

"Jesus, John", you flush under his heavy gaze and crude words, enough for you to look to the side.

Fingers knock beneath your chin, quickly redirecting your attention back to him. Greeting you is a pair of blue eyes twinkling in intrigue. "So what you say, wanna keep me warm while I work?"

You eye him sceptically. John had figured you liked cockwarming him, the fact nothing hard to figure when you always pulled out the process of him slipping out of you as you caught your breaths in the aftermatch of whatever session had your body trembling and his clutching yours to anchor himself. But those times often happened after, not before.

"We're not fucking", you point at him.

"Keep still, and we won't". He chuckles at your muttered 'insufferable' as you rise to your knees.

John helps you as much as he can, stabilising you with his un-injured arm as you tug down the waistband of his sweatpants, fingers digging into the fabric of his underwear, feeling the hotness of his still not-fully erect member. He sighs as you pump his cock to bring him to full erection before pulling his length out, rubbing the tip against the fabric covering your cunt.

A warmth, a need, you hadn't felt in the past weeks blooms in your lower stomach.

Since his injury, you and John hadn't had sex. It might only be a few weeks, but having a mostly bare-chested, burly man like him walk around the house nearly every day because it was too tricky putting on a shirt did things to you, things which you repressed in favour of not pushing anything onto John that would strain his injury. Doctors orders.

But as you pushed your underwear to the side, how easily worked up you got whispers of a repressed desire, your slit wet without any proper foreplay, not more than the mere thought of finally feeling him inside you. Even so, you softly whine as you sink down onto him, the stretch as he entered not unfamiliar in comparison to unused to.

A drawn-out exhale escapes John as your tightness slowly swallows him, his hands falling to lift your shirt and simultaneously massage your hips.

"Just like that, love", his words are drawled as blue eyes follow how you inch your way down, having to work up and done with rolls of your hips take him after this long. "Just relax. You always take it so well". His praise makes you flutter around him, making your and John's breaths catch.

With a last shift, your thighs finally touch his, his cock buried to the hilt.

"Fuckin' hell so warm". You glance up at John, having his head notched backwards, lips slightly parted. Calloused hands slide up the smooth skin of your sides, outlining the curve of your hip, making your shirt ride up enough to show your stomach before it slides down again as his hands smoothened down your body again.

"Didn't you say you would work? Hard to do that while coping a feel". Your breathy comment brings John's head forward again, his eyes partly lidded.

"Only need one arm for that". There's a gentle tug in the corner of his mouth as he angles his laptop towards him on the armrest.

While propping his uninjured arm along the armrest, scrolling on the mousepad as he returned to the reading you previously interrupted, John's unoccupied hand gripped your hip as he brought you closer. The slight shift makes him move inside you, and your eyes flutter shut. Shit, this would be much harder than you'd anticipated.

In hopes it would distract you, you lean forward, nose knocking against the column of his throat. You inhale his scent, concentrating on how the typical aroma of rich cigar smoke is vacant from his skin with the lack of smoking.

John's unoccupied hand travels to the small of your back, fingers alternating between massaging your muscles and tracing light patterns against your skin.

Shivers run up and down every part of your body, unconsciously making you shimmy as the shudders reach your shoulders. Your shifting jostles him inside you, causing you to clench reactionary. John's chest heaves, indicating he definitely felt how you squeezed around him.

But he didn't say anything, not verbally, at least. He simply grabs a fistful of your asscheek until flesh spilt between his fingers. The silent scold forces you to resist rocking in his lap, only releasing a quiet whimper, burying your face deeper into the curve of his neck and shoulder.

You inhale to steady your breath.

The shower John took in the morning made his body wash more prominent. But he still smells of a certain alluring warmth, a musk simply describable as him, the one making you nuzzle against his bare upper body. You don't know whether to curse or hail him for not wearing a shirt nowadays, his nude chest distracting you somewhat from the delicious stretch and fullness of finally having him inside you. Until you knew it definitely did not help you.

As the hair dusted over his pectorals tickled against your lower chin and his beard against the upper part of your forehead, you ran your hands up and down his abdomen and chest.

Feeling the thick cords of muscle beneath a layer of fat that made him so deliciously big and broad clench beneath your fingers acts like a lighter to gasoline. Mental images of seeing those muscles work as he pumps himself into you fill your head.

You don't even notice how your hips begin to roll until a heavy hand clutches your side, swiftly preventing the motion.

"Be a good girl, hm?" You glance up at John, but he hasn't even angled his head to face you. His blue eyes simply remain fixed on the computer screen. Even so, you feel how the muscles in his neck flex, and a soundless chuckle shakes his chest.

You squeeze your eyes shut, face falling to hide against his neck again, but your attempt to remain calm has already failed as your mind supplies nothing but the filthiest scenes behind your eyelids. Grunting. Pistoning hips. Flesh grasped tightly.

You force an exhale, refraining from moving with any and all willpower in your fibres as you feel his girth throb inside you. You need a distraction. You need to distract yourself from thinking about how his cock fills you so well.

You start to mouth at his skin, light presses of your lips along his collarbone, trailing only far enough to his shoulder that you didn't aggravate his injury. When you once again reach where his clavicle met his sternum, you begin trailing kisses up his neck. You hum in delight, nuzzling against John's jawline, his beard tickling the tip of your nose. You felt him sigh, his chest pressing against yours before he exhaled through his nose.

God, you pliantly move with him as he shifts in his seat, attempting to find a more comfortable position by sliding down somewhat. But you can't help but momentarily dig your fingers into his abdomen as the slight stir pushes his hips against yours, forcing him deeper inside you. The sting of your nails makes his hips jump more erratically than when he'd shuffled just seconds earlier, and you can't stop a moan as you press yourself down into his lap. The only thought left in your mind is that you desperately need to move. Now.

Rocking your hips, you gave a quivering sigh, eyes fluttering at the feeling of his blunt tip hitting something so sensitive.

"Love", John's voice is even, hinting at nothing more than attempting to earn your attention. However, how his hand travelled from around your waist to your ass, angling your hips roughly in an arch so you were pressed, forced stationary, against his chest, spoke of something else.

When you emerge from his neck, with hands planted on his chest, his blue eyes lock with yours, and how he tilts his head causes a shiver to run down your spine.

"Said to sit still, didn't I?" A soft whine leaves your mouth, lower lip jutting out. "Only going to keep me warm, eh?" He tuts amusingly.

You huff as you catch the amusement in his voice. "You seem to like it".

"Not 'bout likin' it love, but seein' how strong that resolve of yours is", he hums, taunting words brushing over your lips

You could bare your teeth at that response, like a cat hissing at someone, even if they were petting them because they came close. John's cock was literally throbbing inside you, his hips shifting to get more comfortable, only to rock himself deeper into you, demanding, mocking you to do something about your predicament.

As if feeling your body tense, your frustration growing, the menace of a man you're perched upon decides to stoke the fire by giving you a small kiss on your lips.

"Not fair", you hiss against John. This time, his chuckle is audible.

"No one said anything about fair". You send him a deadpan look, but he only chuckles deeply again. "Now relax again, love". His hand pushes against the back of your head, bringing you to rest it against him. You don't fight him, hooking your chin near the juncture of his neck, staring at the bookshelf opposite you.

You knew you'd given a false promise when you said this wouldn't lead to anything. Called your own lie and his with your initial scepticism. But now you're too far gone, too horny after nearly a month of not properly feeling him; you let out a shuddering, displeased moan as you purposefully squirm.

Your constant shifts were too small to bring any real pleasure, erratic enough they would be written off as shifts to get comfortable if it wasn't for how you and John knew it definitely wasn't.

You could already feel your juices dripping, coating your inner thighs and his crotch, probably soaking his trousers. The lewd picture makes your pussy throb around his length again, and you quietly mewl, brows furrowing in frustration as you glare straight forward.

As if to make matters worse, your clit caught perfectly on the rolled-together line of your underwear that pressed into you at the angle John kept you from sinking deeper onto him. The realisation is like a doomsday announcement, as now it's impossible not to notice how your bundle of nerves is throbbing.

The ache is unbearable, especially as pleasure is within sight, the planes of John's lower stomach pressed right against your mound. With such temptation just a breath away, you wriggle your hips, stuttering a breath when pleasure rushes through your abdomen.

You start with small movements, yet more calculated than before. But soon, your squirming evolves into grinds that never fully make you sit back on John's lap.

You reckon that's why he doesn't stop your movements. But what catches you, pleasantly, off-guard is when you feel a slight push of his hand against your backside.

John lazily guides your hips a few times but stops suddenly as if catching himself of what he's doing when his concentration slips from his reading.

He chastises you with a soft pinch to the skin of your hips, and you know what's coming when he grabs the nape of your neck.

"Thought you said no fuckin'?". He directs your head in front of his. John's eyes have darkened, the good kind, his chest heaving more with each breath.

"I'm a big fat liar. That's what you want to hear?" You're quick to reply, the amusement rising in his blue eyes evident as he rolls his lips between his teeth with a content quirk in their corners before he answers.

"Always a delight when you admit you're wrong".

"Yeah, yeah", you roll your eyes, heat licking up your limbs and spine until pooling in the pit of your stomach. You attempt to quell it by mimicking the same move you'd previously done, but don't get far before John's strong hand anchors you squarely in his lap. The sweet pleasure of him filling you to the brim is momentary as the action keeps you there, fixed.

"Never said I would fuck you. I'm quite satisfied with this arrangement". John Price may be a humble man, but sometimes his cockiness soared when having you at his mercy.

"Piss off".

"Goin' to remain right here", he flashed you a devilish smile before returning to work.

His blatant disregard makes your mouth fall open as you stare at him.

You know John saw your reaction from the corner of his eyes, but he was adamant about not acknowledging you. You clench your jaw, sending him a nasty look.

If that's how he wants to play.

With the single coherent thought that you would get your release, no longer desiring to play into the torture John was putting you through, you decide to make him cave right along with you.

With one hand stabilising yourself on his chest, your other hand slide down beneath your sweater. Your mouth falls open when your fingers brush your clit, faintly feeling how he stretches you open, unabashed moan clawing up your throat and out of your mouth.

Oh, you saw the twitch of his head and felt his fingers dig into your waist. You knew how much he desired to look at you but remained stubborn enough not to indulge himself.

What must be a delirious-looking smile spread on your face as your mouth remains open, releasing all the soft breaths and whiney moans you'd muffled earlier. He's still keeping a steely grip on your lower half, keeping you from rocking your hips, but you make do with what he can't control.

You bend forward at the waist, head falling alongside his until you face his throat.

Whereas your previous kisses had been light, worshipping, now they were shy of foul. You don't leave more than a few open-mouthed kisses along his neck as a heads-up before you trace your tongue over the same spots you journey.

You never stop the slow circles over your clit, your heavy breaths fanning over the wet trail you paint against his skin. And with your pleasured sounds so close to his ear, your lips marking him up without abandon as no one but you will be able to see the light marks, a deep groan fills the air.

Silencing your satisfaction that you're slowly tearing his resolve, you release a low whine straight into his ear instead. "John-".

His facade cracks again, head tilting backwards, and you know he's fighting demons to not give in to your pleasure. But you show him no remorse, chuckling breathlessly over the shell of his ear before nipping his earlobe.

Laving over the sweet little spot on his neck, right at the angle where his beard fades and beneath his ear, another grunt fills the air as his other hand abandons the computer and shifts to grab you.

With both of his hands now on your hips, you take your unoccupied hand and drag it down his chest, the wiry hair tickling you as your nails catch his nipple. You paw at his chest as you push your mouth into the shell of his ear, shakily uttering, "Going fill me up, John?"

"Jesus-". His gravelly voice, how he gropes and grabs at your soft love handles, hints at the restrained pleasure leaking through the cracks you're creating. It eggs you on, quickening the fingers rubbing your clit as you try to see if he'll let you rock your hips.

Although he clutches your flesh when you start to roll your hips over his thick cock, he doesn't stop you, hands remaining dormant on your ass. And, since you don't get any resistance from John this time, you don't stop.

You flutter around him, your peak moving a lot closer when you sit straight, looking down at the man who showers you with his attention as you rise on your knees in tandem with the rocking of your hips. And that seems to break the last straw of his willpower.

You thank the heavens when he hastily moves to close his laptop and slides it a bit too aimlessly into the armchair beside the one you're occupying. The amusement in his eyes quickly faded to offer more place for surging arousal.

His uninjured arm rises to settle his hand at the back of your head, tugging you into a kiss as his other hand paces itself as he lowers it, swatting away your hand to overtake the onslaught on your bundle of nerves. As his thumbs find and rub firm circles onto your clit, you moan into his mouth.

John leans away to look at you, watching your features contort in pleasure as your cunt throbs around him. A lazy smirk on his face tells you he has no desire to drag out your or his pleasure any longer.

He starts moving his hips, meeting each of your falls into his lap, pressing him deeper into you than what you'd managed on your own. John sounded fucking heavenly as a fucked up into you, groans and grunts slipping past his teeth, even if he let you do most of the work, taking it easy with his shoulder.

"Fuckin' hell, that's my girl". He jerks inside you upon picking up the wet sounds squelching each time the back of your thighs meet his. "Takin' my cock so well after all this time, s'good for me, fuck- missed you havin' you around me". John's head drops backwards just as his hand falls to give your hips a firm squeeze, helping you guide your hips. You whine, clenching around him, slumping against him even if your hands get trapped between your chests.

He feels so good inside you, girthy length stretching you so deliciously, every ridge and vein rubbing against your walls. You pant against his skin, teeth closing on the tendons in his neck, not biting, but the pleasure just feels so good that you barely know what to do with yourself.

"Feisty today, eh?" John's jab is breathless, rasped from the back of his throat. "Hm, get so needy when you don't get my cock".

"John- fuck", your eyes squeeze tightly shut as your sensitivity is upped, orgasm nearing, the digit playing with your clit making you keen. "Feels so good, you feel so good... shit, missed this", you blabber. He groans at your admission, planting his heels more firmly to get more power behind his thrusts.

An involuntary squeak leaves you as the added force makes you slide forward a bit, your arm swinging around his neck on his uninjured side. It's nowhere near as fierce as John otherwise can shove himself deep inside of you, but after this long, he doesn't need to.

One final thrust sends you over the edge, body quivering, thighs squeezing his waist. Your moan breaks into heaving breaths, hips stilling in their up-and-down movement. John's not far behind, manually grinding your hips back and forth before he rolls his hips upwards, praises falling in groans from his lips as he spills inside you.

"Best believe you're not going back to working after this", you sigh into John's neck, having caught your breath just as he slackens beneath you.

He gives you a shakey laugh yet to level his own breathing. "No thought 'bout it", his voice is throaty as his arms curl around your waist.

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