the-witheredroses

[the-witheredroses]

ps!ghost x of!f!reader au :)

It hadn't even been him who found you. It'd been Kyle.

Look at this lush little doll fuckin' herself on your cock.

Simon's chilled glass clinked on the marble tabletop of the bar as he placed it down, brows furrowed in response. He hadn't even gotten the chance to ask what the fuck Kyle was doing watching porn in public because he slid the phone over in a flash, and as soon as Simon's gaze shifted to the phone, his words instantly lodged into his throat.

You really were fucking yourself on his cock. Well, a replica of his cock. Simon found himself unable to look away. You were riding it, puffy lips spread wide as your cunt took every thick inch of the toy. The way you undulated your hips with every rise and fall had a familiar hunger gnawing at his insides, your fingers— so much smaller than his own— circling your bundle of nerves stoked the fire in his lower belly.

His tongue felt thick and heavy in his mouth when he noticed your soft thighs begin to tremble, the pace of your hand, glistening with your slick— oh, he'd pay for a little taste— quickening as you reached your climax. His teeth sunk into his bottom lip the same way he knows yours did too (it's a shame you're hiding that face of yours, he'd love to see if your eyes cross as you peak), and before the video got to his favorite part, Kyle quickly swiped his phone back.

Johnny's here. Wave 'im down.

Bastard. Good thing he took note of your name.

He'd signed up that same night and tugged his cock to that same video, this time with volume. You keened so prettily, a voice like honey and milk. Gasps when you lifted yourself until just the tip of it remained inside, mewls when you lowered yourself until your lips were flush against the silicone balls (those were inaccurate, he had a full, heavy set thank you very much). Simon stroked himself at your pace, a muted groan escaping him when you gave the toy a pointed thrust, cunt squelching as you did.

The sound you'd made as you climaxed was exactly like he'd thought it'd be, a hiccupped noise that came from the back of your throat, so real, genuine. It'd easily tossed him over his own edge, muscles taut and stomach tight as he spurts thick ropes of warm spend on himself, coating his dark trail of coarse hair under his navel and pubic area.

His cock had barely begun to soften, the loud ringing in his ears starting to fade when he came to a startling realization.

You'd whimpered his name— his stage name— as you hit your peak.

Simon quickly rewinds the video back a couple of seconds and watches intently as your hand stutters, frothy white desire at the base dribbling down in viscous drops (seriously, just a taste), your breath hitches, and—

There.

A warbled, slurred Ghost.

Well, well. Lucky him. He sends you a hefty tip, (for your service, pet) and turns on notifications for your profile. He'd hate to miss a live video of yours.

(His mind is already whirring with the thought of fucking you on his bed, just to see for himself if you really can take him the way you did the replica.)

[the-witheredroses]

Reader introduces their secret husband to the 141! Ghost is just silently sitting glaring at him, soap is definitely “play” fighting him, gaz is having “playful” banter, Alejandro is on his phone secretly searching for dirty and black mail material, and price is privately talking to you asking if “your being threatened into this relationship” and “is this what you really want”

you really really think those boys would just let you be happy and married to someone that isn't them????

[the-witheredroses]

bluecollar!price soft sappy comfort (+ his pervy self probably getting handsy) when his wife says she’s sad about how her body changed with pregnancy 😕

john ‘I love my wife’ price ftw always

c/w: mentions of pregnancy and childhood, mentions of insecurities, john flirts with his wifey <3, groping

“ugh, I hate my body…”

it was a passing comment, one you didn’t really expect a response to. but for price, it was enough to make him look up from his tablet, his eyes narrowing at you over his glasses

you’re stood in front of the bedroom mirror, hands grabbing at your waist and hips with a pout on your face, “why would you say something like that, darling?”

he frowns at you, placing the tablet down and focusing his full attention onto his wife. you shrug your shoulders, looking at him over your shoulder with the same pout, “I wouldn’t give up our children for anything in the world but I wish they would have kept my body in tact when I was bringing them into this world.”

you turn your attention back to the mirror, overanalysing every bit of flesh attached to your bones, “I used to be hot, John. now, I pee a bit every time I sneeze and I can’t fit into any of my old wardrobe. I’ll be fine once I lose the baby weight.” you huff out

John stands up from his place on the bed, walking over to you and wrapping his arms around you, “don’t bother.” he grunts, burying his face into your neck and pressing kisses to your skin

“why’s that?” you hum, taking a hand up to scratch at his scalp. you make eye contact in the mirror and you don’t miss the cheeky grin that spreads across john’s face

“because I’m just gonna knock you up again anyway.” he laughs, carrying on his trail of kisses down to your shoulder, “can’t help it, love. you just look so beautiful when you’re pregnant. don’t think of it as losing anything. you’ve just gone from being my sexy wife to the sexy mother of my children. wouldn’t change you for the world.”

you can’t help the way your cheeks heat up, especially when his hands start to wander, groping at your hips and tummy before moving up to roughly squeeze your breasts. he groans into your neck when his hands go down to cop a feel of your ass, “fuckin’ stunning, love.”

[the-witheredroses]

how bad is it i just want some heartbreaking angst with viking!Simon for him to finally realise his wife is IT for him and how his feelings have developed into love and adoration

sorry this sucks I wrote it on the train home from work 😭

c/w: kidnapping, happy ending

it happens when someone tries to tear your precious family apart. another raid on the village and he’s piled away from the heat of battle by his little wife’s bloodcurdling scream. his heart is pounding when he finds you and you immediately drop to your knees in front of him, sobs ripping their way from your throat

his hands make a home on your elbows, trying to keep you up as your knees just give out in agony,

“our son! they took our baby, simon!”

his blood runs could when he hears this, his hands trembling as his own stand nearly gives out. he cradles your head to his chest, shushing you. he never knew the sounds of pain could make his heart stop in his chest like this

but it’s you. it’s your son. his family. everything that you had both worked so hard to build together. he’ll die before he allows those scavengers to take this from him. he hands you off to price, telling him to look after you before saddling up on his black stallion. he spares you one last look before he sets off,

“I’ll bring him home to us. where he belongs, I promise you that.”

the next few days are torture for you. you refuse to leave your home as the clan try to comfort you. bringing you food and trying to coax you to eat but how can you eat when you have no idea if your husband and son are okay

you sit by the window all day and all night, waiting to see that familiar steed trot back up to the village. it’s the middle of the night when you finally do. the sight of your husband cradling a small bundle to his chest makes you sit up instantly, wiping the tears that had been falling all day

you’re up on your feet instantly, darting out the door before simon can even plant his feet on the ground. when he sees you running towards him, he holds your son out instantly for you to grasp. you hug him to your chest as cries of relief leave your mouth,

“thank you, oh thank you, simon!” you wail, falling against him as he takes you both into his arms. the sight of your reunited family brings tears to everyone’s eyes as simon wastes no time shuffling you and your son back into the house

even once your both settled into bed, your son bathed and changed as he feeds from your chest, the tears don’t stop falling. simon understands, you’re a new mother who had her son snatched from her arms. you’re terrified of losing him again

“it’s okay, love. he’s home with us. where he belongs…” your husband grunts, grasping your chin and placing a kiss to your forehead. affection is still sparse in your marriage but when it happens, it’s all natural

he doesn’t sleep that night. he sits up all night, one arm hugging you to his chest and the other cradling your sleeping newborn. and simon realises that this is what his duty is. not protecting the clan, not being the most fierce warrior but rather, protecting you. his darling with and the precious son that you gifted him

[the-witheredroses]

Simon doesn’t like touch, and no one dares touches him. His history of sexual assault also meant he’s never pursued anything healthy sexual relations, and that’s fine with him. He doesn’t care.

So when he sees you and something urges him to ask you out, he doesn’t care that you say you’re waiting for marriage. I think it makes him feel safe with you, that you wouldn’t try to initiate anything with him.

But you’re also a very affectionate person, at least not so much in the beginning but throughout the months of dating him, he notices the way you subtly press closer. Especially after a hard day and you want to be comforted. You don’t push it, you know it’d push him away.

But then the one time you’d rather just be on your own, frustrated and mad, you come home surprised he’s there. You bump into him, “Sorry.”

And you’re changing out of your work clothes and into running clothes.

“It’s dark.” He states.

“Then come with.” And he does.

———

When you get home you shower first, before he showers, and you’re already in an old men’s shirt and shorts, bare feet padding around your house.

“Why are you with me?”

“I like you.”

“Are you sure? You don’t even hug me, or, or, hold my hand, kiss my cheek?” You say softly, stuttering from the emotions.

“Do you want me to?”

“I want you, to want to. Simon, not cause I want it, because you want to do it.”

He’s silent, which isn’t unusual, but he nods, looking down at you.

“I’ve never kissed anyone.” He admits. You sit on the kitchen counter, motioning him to come closer, he does.

His eyes crinkles, as he returns the gesture.

“Can I kiss you?”

“Yes.” He leans in tilting his head and you lean in, hands in your lap, trying not to scare him off.

“You can put your hands on me.” You look surprised and smile bashfully, hands on his shoulders, he kisses you softly. When he pulls away he asks, “Can I hug you?”

“Yes.” He’s pressing himself into you, arms gingerly holding you. “Something happen?”

“Jus’ missed you.” He buries his head in your neck, his stubble tickling you.

[the-witheredroses]

I'm imagining waking up in a hospital bed with all of the 141 standing around the room, absolutely distraught.

You try to call out to them but there's a breathing tube down your throat. In fact, there's quite a few things around your throat to keep it stabilized. At first you have no idea what's going on, but eventually your memories come back in snippy segments.

You've been strangled.

[the-witheredroses]

being called simon's work wife by johnny is all fun and games til you start spotting the man you've never formally met in the corner of your eye.

imagine being told by a pig-headed superior to make yourself useful and go get him some coffee only to immediately start apologizing, words spilling out of his pathetic mouth like water because your johnny-proclaimed husband's looming right behind you in guard dog mode.

you mumble out a thank you, even though you're not sure what for and he just tugs your name tag.

no one talks to my wife like that.

(forget about trying to clarify that it's work wife, he's got selective hearing.)

i think it's cute til it's not. til you're at a bar, drunk, and he shows up and takes you home. you wake up in a bed that smells of gunpowder and carbolic soap, in a shirt 3x your size and a pair of oversized sweats. when you check your phone, your friend's text reads, your husband is a scary man.

(there's a fucking ring on your finger, too.)

[the-witheredroses]

Simon Riley crying and praying for the first time in years bc you're hospitalized

(self indulgent as fuck, based off of personal medical history bc it'll be more accurate)

You hadn't ate or drank for 5 days, unable to keep anything down. You thought it was the flu at first. Fevers, puking, extreme fatigue. It didn't seem like anything out of the norm. Except for when your fevers started casing full body convulsions that made you look possessed. Chills and cold sweat turned to groaning and crying, muscles all over cramping and clenching, breathing becoming difficult. You figured it was because you hadn't had the flu in years. How wrong you had been.

Once your puke turned green, which was later found out to be bile from your kidneys, Simon rushed you to the hospital. Unable to stand, he pulled a wheelchair from the entrance and pushed you everywhere. Within 2 hours, the nurses had you admitted and on IV meds. Pain meds, IV Tylenol, and bags of fluid were hooked up to you, rehydrating you being high priority. Your body is in shock, resting heartrate being 140. He sat by your side the entire time, holding your puke bag in one hand, and your hair back in the other. The doctors drew blood, running blood cultures, searching for a more accurate answer.

The night you were admitted, they informed you that your kidneys were so infected that one got injured. The bile that was thrown up was caused but how hard you were puking, pulling it up from your kidneys.

He stayed the night, sleeping in the rocking chair, right next to your bed. He woke up when your fevers came back, holding your hand and telling you how good you're doing, calling in a nurse. The morning that followed, he had to go back to the house to make a bag of your immediate needs, clothes, deodorant, hairbrush, and anything else he could think of. When he came back, a doctor and a couple med students came in with important news.

"We ran blood cultures to see if there was possible an infection in your blood due to your symptoms leaning towards that. They came back positive. We are going to give you antibiotics and run cultures every 12 hours to track if the antibiotics are working" The doctor says as gently as possible.

The room begins to feel like it's spinning. Sepsis has a 68% mortality rate, and knowing how deadly it is, it feels like you're already being buried. Simon looks to you with a confused look, not knowing exactly what that it, but knowing it isn't good.

"I have sepsis?" You ask in a quiet voice, throat constricting.

"Yes" The doctor says softly.

"Oh fuck I'm gonna die" you whisper under your breath, tears forming.

Simon looks to you, eyes widening. 'Not again'

"Wait, the hell is Sepsis?" He demands, but not sounding confident, more scared than anything.

The doctor explains it to him, how it when your blood is infected, how the infection can latch onto your other organs and slowly kill you from the inside out. Once it reaches your brain, it's too late. His grip on your hand tightens. The doctor tries to give hope, but she can only do so much without lying. She leaves to give you privacy.

It's silent, neither of you speaking out of shock. The only noise in the room is the quiet hum of the IV machine and Simon's shaky breathing. Your thumb softly glides back and forth over the back of his hands, trying to ground him.

"Si" you softly call.

It takes hour to get him to loosen up a little. It's only when you manage to keep down a popsicle that he feels like he can breath a little easier. Like maybe you'll be part of the 32% that pull through.

That sliver of hope is crushed that night, being woken up by his arm being slapped repeated by you in a panic. His eyes meet yours, concern instantly written on his face. Your hand is on your chest as short, sharp breaths are the only thing you can manage.

"I,, can't,, breath,," you whisper between breaths, unable to say a sentence in one go.

"Baby it's alright, jus' try to breath wit' me, hm?" he tries to demonstrate slow breathing, mistaking it for a panic attack.

"not a,, panic,, attack,, please,, nurse,," you try to tell him.

He nods in a panic, running out to the nurse station and explaining. They rush in and take your pulse-ox just to see your oxygen percentage is at 86% when it should be above 95%. They try to do the deep breathing again before Simon interrupts them.

"It's not a bloody panic attack, she literally can't breath. Get her oxygen or somethin' before she fuckin' suffocates!"

They put you on oxygen until they can get you an X-ray. The nurses try to chalk it up to a panic attack until in the morning they see you still can't breath. They give you an X-ray and when the results come back, they send the doctor in. She informs you that the nurses gave you too much IV fluid and that caused your organs to swell so much that they pushed up on your lungs, collapsing them by 3/4ths. 1/4th of your lungs are still open and they're going to take you off fluid, start you on exercises to open them back up, and keep you on oxygen.

That's the last straw for Simon. Once you fall asleep for a nap, he heads outside to the bench area and punches a wall. His knuckles split but he barely feels it, ringing in his ears drowning out the surrounding noise. With no one around, he sits on a bend, elbows on knees and face in his hands. His breath picks up as his throat tightens and tears threaten to rip out of him.

"Why would ya let this happen to 'er? Aren't you supposed to be lovin'?" He whispers into the wind, looking up at the sky, "That girl in't like me. She's the fuckin' sunshine in human form and she's on death's bloody doorstep."

Tears cloud his vision, unable to keep it in any longer. He blinks them away, falling onto his clenched fists. Years of praying, to a god he later grew to resent, for him to fix his family. A child kneeling at his bed, begging him to get his family out of his father's grasp. Once he got to his teenage years, his desperation became resentment and anger. His jaw began to clench when his drunken father would spew bible verses at him to condemn him. He realized God wouldn't save him, nor would he when Simon's family was ripped from him.

Yet here he was, back to that same god, desperate that maybe, just maybe, he'd have mercy on him this time. He believed himself a rotten man, even if it was subconscious, unworthy of the angel sent to him. His light, reparations for the mistreatment The Father had destined for him.

"You sent 'er to me, it's gotta be for a reason. You've never listened to my prayers before but just this fuckin' once, please don't ignore me." His voice breaks, openly sobbing with no sound, "You sent 'er to me and now I can't live without 'er. She's fuckin' everythin' to me. Don't take back your gift, please" The end of his sentence slips into a whisper.

He wipes his tears on his sleeve and sniffles hard, trying to erase the evidence of his vulnerability. He stands and walks to the door, looking back at the bench before turning back to the door and walking in. 'Amen'

[the-witheredroses]

if perv!simon and bluecollar!simon converged and created a little freak of a man who gets off at work every time the construction managers daughter stops by with coffee for all the guys. it's 7 in the morning and he's delirious but he's never seen something so perfect as *her*.

come over here so I can kiss you on your forehead anon

c/w: perv!simon, mentions of smut and simon being a little weirdo but nothing too graphic

he’s glad all that money that your father gets overpaid is being put some good use. at least his boss’ pretty little daughter is being taken care of. he’d hate for you to have to go without :(

you’re just so sweet, he thinks. much nicer than you’re prick of a father. every time you bring him a coffee with same amount of milk and sugar that he asks for every time, he feels his cock straining against his boxers. he just knows you’d take such good care of him

you’d send him off to work everyday with his coffee in a thermos and a sweet kiss, maybe a promise of a blowie when he gets home :)

never drinks when you come to the pub with your father. he learnt that you like to leave early, getting annoyed with all the horny dogs he works with trying to chat you up. one time you asked him for a lift home and he was too pissed to do it. he’ll never make that mistake again

tries to hide his eagerness when you finally ask him for a lift home again, nodding his head and trying to seem non-chalant but deep down he’s losing his mind that he gets to spend even a little bit of time with you

walks you out to his truck, holding the door open for you like a real gentleman would. simon is far from a gentleman, though. he just figured he needs to pretend to be. you thank him with a lovely smile and it takes everything for this loser not to cum in his pants

his small talk is so BAD. he spends all day keeping to himself. he is just simply a big man who likes to swing a sledgehammer at work and break things :( just let him eat your pussy PLEASE, he’ll make it so nice

walks you to your door like a proper man would, only so he can smell your hair when you turn your back to him to go inside. he’s actually such a little freak but he would be so good for you :( you’d never have to work a day. just cook and clean for him and suck his big, dumb cock when he gets home :(

[the-witheredroses]

“Why do you join the military?”

“Because when I die someone will know, and I’m afraid of dying alone.

TF141*Reader, just some thoughts :) and yes ur reader killer writer is back sorry :D

Price

He knows because he’s the one to sign the report confirming your death.

He knows because there aren’t warm teas and sticky notes with ‘hydrate! capt. :D’ written on them waiting for him on his desk.

Soap

He knows because he can’t find you when he gets you your favorite snack.

He knows because there’s no sweet laughter accompanying him in the training room.

Gaz

He knows because he washed the blood from your dog tag and keeps it from gathering dust every day.

He knows because he helps you take care of your plushie that sleeps alone on your cold bed.

Ghost

He knows because he doesn’t get bantered when he sits in your quarter and tells a bad joke.

He knows because he always feels the morning is too quiet when you’re not here to make tea together with him.

[the-witheredroses]

Mmm, thinking about Ghost going on a date with reader after not having been in a proper relationship in years

He was never one for hookups, and he could never keep long-term relationships. Most lasted about a month at most before he backed out.

Fast forward to now, he's been invited out by you. He figures it'll be like most other dates, a quick dinner at a noisy restaurant before he gets overwhelmed and leaves.

To his surprise, it isn't. You kept his comfort in mind and suggested a walk by the bay instead.

When he walks beside you in silence, you don't seem to take offense. In fact, you don't seem to mind at all. You fill in his silence with easy conversation, keeping it focused on you and not trying to pry into his personal life.

You don't hesitate when he responds with one word answers, instead taking the opportunity to discuss an interest of your own. By the time it's long past dark out, you offer to take him home, apologizing for not acknowledging the time sooner. He didn't want to stop listening to your voice

When he declines your offer, you smile. You tell him to stay safe, to rest well, and to text you when he gets home.

At his apartment, he can't stop thinking about you. About how polite and kind you were. About how you actually cared about his feelings, how you weren't off put by him.

He glances at his phone.

You receive a text at 1 in the morning. A simple 'Back safe.'

[the-witheredroses]

thinking big thoughts today. big, big thoughts.

tags: 18+, bear shifter!price x fem!reader, yandere price, stalking, non–con, somno

bear shifter!price who immediately notices when you start moving into your grandma's old house – the house right next to his – after her passing. the standoffish city girl in fancy clothes who used to visit her grandma once a year and had no kind word for anybody else other than her elderly family member. how could he not when your scent is everywhere now?

price has been patient. he knew of your existence even before you moved in – of course he did, how could he not notice that his future mate was visiting the old can of beans down the street? 

he's patient with you, so so patient. he's patient when it takes you two weeks to reciprocate his greeting, he's patient when he has to dig through your trashcan in the night so he can learn more about you, he's patient when he receives a cold "no, thanks, I've got it" as a reply to his offer to help you clean the eaves of your house that are full of leaves and making you struggle on the ladder. 

he's patient when he can see that you obviously do not trust him. in his mind, he's praising you. praising you for being a careful and guarded woman. obviously, he wants his mate to be safe, and knowing that you're not trusting others easily when the world is full of monsters makes him swell with pride, puffing out his chest when he thinks about it. 

he's patient when you scream at him in fear, startled in the middle of the night when you feel him on top of you in your bed, slotting his hips between your thighs. he'll be patient and wait for you to learn to trust him, to realise that he has only the best intentions regarding his beloved mate. after all, trust is earned, isn't it? 

[the-witheredroses]

Price: Where did you get that bruise? Simon: *flashback to walking into a wall while looking at pictures of Y/N* Simon: I'm in a gang, Captain

[the-witheredroses]

And they were roomates

(Captain John price x F!reader)

Summary: the captain wants somewhere more homely to settle down and when an offer like yours comes alight on Zillow he must take up on it.

Warnings: kissing, a little tinsy bit angsty, flirtatious banter.

part 1 - part 2 - part 3 - part 4 - part 5 - part 6- part 7 - part 8 - Part 9 - part 10

-------------

“Why’re you putting these up anyway?” You say standing at the bottom of the ladder that John is currently stood on, installing cameras he purchased for outside your home.

“Cause i’ll have to return to work this weekend and i’d like to make sure you’re safe.” you smile to yourself at his protective nature.

“I’ve lived here for ages and nothing has ever happened.” you reassure him as he descends the ladder.

“It’s for my peace of mind.” he says quietly between the two of you in the spring air.

“Okay.” you reply as he places a kiss on your forehead.

“Onto the next corner.” he says gathering the ladder, walking to the other side of the house as his tool belt clings and clangs.

—------------

“Anything you can tell me about this next mission you’re going on?” you ask as the both of you lay on the couch.

“I leave on Sunday and don't know when I'll return, that's all.” He tries to make his deep gruff voice soft it’s a cute attempt. He knew this was going to be the hard part for both of you. You want him to stay and he doesn’t want to go but duty calls.

“Mmm.” you breathe into his chest, trying to inhale him, commit his scent to memory sure it’ll linger but this is straight from the source.

“I'll call you when I can.”

“I thought you weren't allowed to bring a personal phone, that’s what Gaz told me.” you rest your chin on his chest looking up at him.

“Gaz isn’t the captain.” he says, raising an eyebrow at you.

“Ah abuse of power is it.” You quip. 

“If that’s what it takes to reach you.” You look away not being able to contain your blush after that as if he couldn’t feel your heartbeat quicken.

He lifts your chin back up, leaning down almost straining his neck for a kiss. Of course this kiss turns into more, you move further up the couch straddling his waist you’re hungry for him, for his kisses, groans, deep inhales of air, all of it. He’s flipped the two of you over pinning you beneath him with almost half his weight.

“John, why’re you teasing me?” You whimper.

“Not teasing, takin ma time.” 

He kisses down your throat, over your pulse to your collarbone ridding you of your shirt tossing it somewhere to be picked up later. This has been a common occurrence recently thing is he won’t fuck you. No, he will do everything else and give you absolutely anything you want except well what you want. 

“John.” You say as he starts to take your pants off.

“Yeah doll?” He slows the movement of his fingers and simply rests them on your hips.

“Why- why won’t you- you know fuck me?” So you did notice.

“Well because I- I actually-“ he’s a stuttering mess for the first time since you’ve met. 

“Do you not want to?” You begin as you sit up.

“Of course I do, believe me, but I want to savor you in every single way I can, you're irresistible as you are if I have you the way I want it’s all I’ll think about whilst also trying to not get killed.” He admits while comfortingly rubbing your thigh.

“Oh, that’s actually quite hot.” You feel a little bad, I mean who are you to demand something that’s literally a part of him.

“When I’m back I promise I'll give you my cock like you so desperately want.” Well damn.

——————

“Do you guys share a room wherever these missions are?” You ask as he dices up tomatoes for your antipasto Salad. 

“Em there’s rarely time for sleep but sometimes depending where we are we do and other times we don’t. Most times there aren’t even rooms there’s tents or simply no sleep.” He answers before tossing them into the large bowl beside his cutting board as you hum in understanding.

You didn’t know he knew had to cook, well sort of. He can grill, but that’s something that you cannot. So recently he’s been showing you how to smoke and grill different meats, today is what he said was the best of them all and longest cooking time, brisket. 

“Do they snore?” You ask as he laughs at your random questions.

“Yeah actually soap snores like a fucking pig, it’s horrible.” Now it’s your turn to laugh as he nods towards the door for you to follow him outside so he can check on the meat.

“Do I snore?” you ask sheepishly. He smiles looking over his shoulder at you, your arms crossed across your chest to make up for your lack of a sweater. When he sees you this way, so comfortable and raw, hair in your face and pajamas at 6PM, it’s everything and more. 

“You do.” your eyes go wide.

“No, do I really?” you seem so genuinely concerned.

“Doll everynight i've got to spend beside you has been the deepest and best sleep of my life, if you snore I've got no idea.” 

“Thank goodness.” You sigh out as he approaches you.

“Ready to eat?” He asks brushing hair from your face. 

“Yes.” 

Dinner is more talking than eating on your behalf, you want to soak up every second with him that you can. He listens intently wishing his brain was a recording machine so he could play it back when he needed to feel sane. 

“God John that was so good.” You say half an hour after he’s already finished his meal which was also his third serving. 

“I’m glad, you always cook. I'm happy to be able to provide you with this one thing.” 

“You’ve provided me with much more than this one thing.” You say with a soft smile, it’s so sweet it nearly knocks him breathless.

“I don’t want you to leave.” You admit.

“I know, doll.” He reaches across the table for your hand holding it firmly but not tightly as he looks away.

“But I know you have too.” His eyes return to yours.

“How will I spend my days without thee John Price? What will I do?” You say it over dramatically.

“Nothing too risky I hope.” He replies, eyes crinkling at the corner.

“Maybe I’ll skydive.” You tease.

“Please don’t.” 

“Can’t promise.” You joke.

“You’re going to give me more gray hairs.” He said showing you the few already on his head.

“That’s exactly what I want, I love the grays.” And he loves you, but he can’t bring himself to admit it although it isn’t even something he can try to rid himself of at this point it has consumed him whole, sprouting colorful and beautiful things inside him.

“Movie time my darling up we go.” He says as he stands motioning for you to do also. 

This is something that has become ritual, dinner then movie. It’s the perfect unwinding time although sometimes most times it turns into more.

“You pick?” You say as you hand him the remote, getting comfortable at his side tucking your head beneath his big arm. 

“You’ll fall asleep half way through this.” He looks down at your already drooping eyes.

“No I won’t.” 

“You will.” He plays a show you two had begun the other week as he settles in more comfortably moving one of your legs to rest across him. 

He’s laughing unaware of just about everything as his whole body shakes, that’s until he notices you’re not and to his not so own surprise you’re passed out cold. 

——————

When you wake it’s sometime deep into the night. The tv shows its rest screen and John is sleeping. Unfortunately after a weak attempt at falling asleep you’ve decided you're no longer tired so you just lay there, hand beneath John’s shirt rising and falling with every breath he takes. The only noise to be heard is his heartbeat and the clock ticking. 

You begin to overthink the more time passes, you’ll be alone in just two days. The comfort and protection John brings you will be miles away. This warmth that fulfills your soul won’t be in your home any longer. It scares you, how much you want him around how much you love him. You wonder if this is as hard for him as it is for you or if it’s something he’s gotten used to. 

It’s overbearing, too much. You untangle yourself from him, sliding your leg over his body and onto the floor, stepping as lightly as you can onto solid ground.

You tiptoe to the kitchen and open the fridge for water. You lean against the counter before taking a sip out of the bottle breathing deeply to calm your racing heart. You’re zoned out completely so much that you don’t notice John come into the kitchen till he’s placing his hands on your hips. 

“You scared me.” You jump slightly as he offers you a sleepy smile. 

“What’re you doing awake?” 

“Can’t sleep.” You say not meeting his eyes.

“Why didn’t you wake me?” He asks. 

“thought you’d need as much good sleep as possible.” You say quietly, leaning your head on his chest.

“That’s not as important as you.” He rubs a firm hand onto your back pulling you close. He holds you like this for what seems like eternity and you relish in it.

“I’m going to paint for a little, please go lay back down.” He looks exhausted as you finally bring your eyes to him. 

“Come paint in my room.” He is tired but he’d rather be sleep deprived than have you anywhere but next to him. 

“What? You’re crazy, all my stuff is in the sun room.” You say with a small laugh.

“Then I’ll move it, I can’t sleep when you’re more than 5 feet away from me.” 

“Okay.” You know he won’t give up so you’ve learned to give in.

You simply watch as he picks up the heavy canvas and its easel hauling it across the house as you grab your brushes and paints and follow. 

He sets it dangerously close to his side of the bed, he even moves the nightstand over to the corner to ensure you have enough room. 

“Perfect.” He says after pulling his desk chair out of his office and over to it.

“Yeah actually it kinda is.” You smile. 

“Well, have at it.” He says giving you a firm kiss then walking over to the bed and getting comfortable. You sit in his very big but very comfortable desk chair and begin to mix colors in the small pallet that rests on your thigh.

“Goodnight.” He says pulling the chair towards him with an outstretched arm for one more kiss which you happily give. 

“Night.” 

—————

Released an hour early as a little surprise

It’s my best lol it’ll get better just getting back into my groove:)

As always love ya!!!

————-

@beebeechaos @ttsbaby01 @arminarlertssword @quakeroaksguy @rafaelacallinybbay @bumblebeesfromvenus @glitterypirateduck @midnights-song @lovelythingsinternal @fruitymoonbeams-blog @kkaaaagt @kit-williams @enfppuff @kythefangirl25 @eviltheleon @here4thespice @dclore22 @raethethey @waves-against-a-cliff @novausstuff @darling006 @vampirekilmerfic @Dreams-of-qian-qian @spngingerbread21 @thepumpkinqueen93 @copiasratscheese @youdontknowe @spyderdoll @angels-gonna-play @viisgrave @lieutenantlashfaz @sunndust @beckythecatqueen-blog @aoioozora @o-birdseed-o @mothmothmothmothmothmoth @ihateuguys @oversensitivitea @spicyspicyliving

[the-witheredroses]

Are you still taking requests for Price fics??? Can I please get a fluff/smut with him and a reader who has insecurities about her body

I most definitely am!! Thank you so much for requesting!! The beginning turned out sadder than planned, so I’m sorry about that. Also, this isn’t my best work; I’m not sure why but my brain wasn’t braining when I was trying to write this so the quality is slightly off.

Marked Beauty

Do not repost

Synopsis: When Price catches her looking in the mirror for longer than usual, he can immediately tell something is wrong. When she voices her insecurities, he makes it his mission to show her just how beautiful she is.

Pairing: John Price x Female!Wife!Reader (I’m sorry, I’m a sucker for husband Price)

Genre: Fluff & Smut. DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE UNDER 18 YEARS OLD

Warnings: Insecurities, dislike of one's body, Mention of stretch marks, scars, and cellulite, body worship, smut, description of male and female bodies, description of male and female genitalia, cunnilingus, fingering, penetrative sex, p in v, soft sex, creampie, use of ‘love’ and ‘sweetheart’ (let me know if I missed anything)

Note: There is no mention of body weight or size in this fic. The reader is not described as having a specific body type - stretch marks and cellulite is something anyone can get no matter their size.

Word Count: 4.5k

General Masterlist COD:MWII Masterlist

GIF not mine (Boobies 😍)

He could tell something was wrong the moment she stepped in front of the mirror to brush her teeth. The way her eyes raked over her own body made his chest ache; there was a certain hatred in them, and he would even go as far as say she looked disgusted.  

Feeling his heart break piece by piece, he stood up from where he sat on the bed and stopped in the threshold of the bathroom that was connected to their bedroom. She didn’t even notice his presence, too focused on judging every inch of herself. He approached her the moment she spat the toothpaste in the sink, his arms immediately moving to wrap around her torso and pulling her close against him.  

She let out a small sigh when he pressed his face into the crook of her neck, and placed her hands atop his, enjoying the feeling of his warm chest pressing against her back. She almost smiled, but the moment she looked into the mirror again, her face turned blank.  

“What’s wrong?” he muttered against her skin, his beard tickling her neck.  

She exhaled sharply, internally scolding herself for allowing him to see through her. “Nothing’s wrong,” she sent him a small smile, “Go to bed, I’ll join you in a sec, alright?”  

He shook his head and pulled himself up to stare into her eyes through the mirror. He said her name softly, his gruff voice barely above a whisper as he continued, “Please talk to me.”  

She looked to the side and away from his concerned gaze, “I’m fine,” she told him.

But John didn’t believe her. He turned her around in his arms and placed his hand on her cheek, angling her face so their eyes would lock, “Sweetheart, we’ve been together far too long for me to believe that.”

He watched as her eyes glazed over, and she quickly hung her head to look at the ground; she refused to let him see her this way. To see her broken and on the verge of tears.  

“Hey,” he attempted to lift her head back up, but she refused.  

It was when she let out a choked sob, and when he felt her hot tears wet his fingertips that he brought her closer towards him. His palm cradled the back of her head as he pressed her cheek against his shoulder, his other hand reaching to rub comforting circles on her back. Her own hands grabbed onto his shirt and cramped it between her fingers as quiet whimpers left her lips.  

“Shh-shh-shh,” he tried to comfort her, placing a loving kiss against her head as he swayed them from side to side. She clung onto him like her life depended on it, quiet apologies leaving her lips when she felt her tears soaking through his shirt. He could only shake his head in response and assure her it was okay, that she had nothing to be sorry for.  

Once she began to calm down – her sobs ceasing and tears drying on her skin – he pulled away, cupping her cheeks in his calloused hands to look at her. The whites of her eyes were a faint red, and her face was slightly puffy from crying.  

“Talk to me?” he whispered, his eyes begging her to tell him what was wrong - what he could do to help.  

Hesitantly, she nodded, and the moment she did he felt like he could breathe again. He pressed his hand against the small of her back and led her back to their bedroom, where they both sat on the edge of the soft bed. His hands reached for hers and he held them, gently rubbing his thumb against her skin.  

“John,” she managed to whisper, and he hummed, urging her to continue, “Do you still find me attractive?”  

The question alone took him aback, but it was the seriousness in her tone that made him freeze. His brows knit together, and his eyes looked more concerned than before as he leaned forward. He searched her face for something, perhaps because a part of him wished this was all just a really bad joke.  

“’Course I do,” he stated in disbelief, “What makes you think I don’t?”  

She shrugged, her eyes gazing down at their intertwined fingers, “I just-” she let out a deep sigh, “I don’t know.”  

“Hey,” he moved off the bed and crouched down in front of her, keeping his hands on top of hers as he looked into her eyes, “You can tell me.”  

She looked more tired from this angle. The way the shadows fell on her face made her look as though she hadn’t slept in weeks. The frown that pulled on her lips didn’t make it any better, only showing how truly devastated she looked.  

His mind began to work on overdrive. Had he said something to her? Did he do something without realising? Maybe it wasn’t him. Maybe someone said something nasty to her, and now she couldn’t get their words out of her head.  

It was as though she could hear the thoughts that ran through his head. She shook her head at him and let out a small breath, “I just... I don’t feel-” she groaned, placing her hands on her face, “Whenever I look at myself all I can see is flaws, and sometimes I’m scared that one day it will be all you’ll start seeing, too.”  

He couldn’t believe his own ears. He couldn’t believe she thought of herself that way, that she saw herself that way. His chest felt heavy as he moved to sit beside her and placed a comforting hand on the small of her back.  

“Did someone say something to you?” he questioned; his voice gentle as he spoke.  

“No.” she assured him, “No, no-one said anything, and don’t worry, you didn’t do anything either. It’s me – I just don’t like the way I look. Honestly, I don’t know what you see in me, John.”

He hummed, taking her words in and digesting them before he opened his mouth, “D’you want to know what I see?”  

She swallowed thickly, “What?”  

“Definitely not the flaws you’re seeing, love,” he attempted to lighten her mood. “I’m not even sure what ‘flaws’ you’re thinking of. All I can see is my beautiful, beautiful wife.”  

Despite the awful thoughts still plaguing her mind, she couldn’t help but become bashful at his words. She could feel the heat on her cheeks, and hated herself for lifting the corners of her mouth into a small smile.  

“There you are,” he said as though he hadn’t seen her in months. He quickly turned serious, a hand pressing against her cheek to turn her face in his direction, “You’ll always be beautiful to me,” he said her name with so much love, she could feel her heart swell, “Even when we’re both old, wrinkly and complaining about back pain. I love you, and that’s never going to change.”  

“You already complain about your back pain,” she pointed out as her arms wrapped around his neck to pull him into a tight hug.  

“See, we’re already half way there,” he laughed, “If you ever feel like this again, you tell me, alright?” she nodded into his shoulder, “I can’t have you feeling like this.”

“I’m sorry,” she mumbled, “For worrying you.”  

“I’m your husband,” he chuckled, pulling away from her, “It’s my job to worry, yeah?”  

She snorted at that, and he couldn’t help but grin at her reaction. With a small laugh of his own, he pressed his lips against hers and used his thumbs to wipe away the dry tears from her cheeks. The kiss started off sweet and gentle, their soft lips melting against one another in the slow dance. But it eventually turned more passionate – more lustful – as he pressed his lips harder against hers, hands beginning to wander down from her hips.  

They pulled away to catch their breaths, their foreheads pressing together in a loving gesture. “Can I show you just how beautiful you are to me?” he asked.  

She knew what he meant by this, and she didn’t even have to think about her answer. She nodded, a small ‘yeah’ leaving her lips as she pressed them against his once again. This kiss was short and sweet and he smiled when they moved apart.

Placing his hands on her hips, he guided her along the bed to rest her head on the fluffy pillows. He hovered above her, hand resting by her head as he leaned down to kiss her once again. His tongue entered her mouth, and the quiet mewl that left her when their tongues met had his body turning hot. They explored one another as if it was their first time doing so; hands ran up and down each other’s bodies and tongues swiped against one another in a loving embrace.  

A string of saliva connected them when John eventually pulled away. His breathing was heavy and eyes closed as he attempted to calm himself down. He pressed his nose against the soft skin of her cheek and decided to press more kisses there, trailing from her cheek, to her jaw, down her neck and stopping just above her clavicle.  

“John,” she whispered, legs moving to rest on either side of his hips.  

He groaned at her needy tone, the sound of her voice only spurring him on as he kissed past her clavicle and over her shirt. His hands slipped underneath the hem of her shirt and rolled up the material to her ribs to expose her stomach. His lips attached to the newly uncovered skin, pressing soft kisses around her belly button.  

As his lips moved downward, stopping at the waistband of her bottoms, he noticed something different. Instead of the usual shorts she wore to bed, her legs were covered with long pyjama bottoms that reached her ankles. He frowned, eyes gazing up at her curiously.  

“Is it your legs, love?” he asked, brows furrowing in question.  

She let out a sharp breath, her tongue wetting her lips as she nodded. He kissed the softness of her abdomen before pushing himself up to look into her eyes. “Can I take ‘em off?” he asked seriously, hand stroking the apple of her cheek.  

She nodded, though he could see the hesitance in her eyes. One of his hands settled on the soft skin of her hip, gently rubbing the area with his thumb as he tilted his head to the side in thought. He let out a soft hum, eyes analysing her own.  

“John,” her voice caught his attention, “I trust you. I just... it’s my thighs...”  

“Are you sure?” he asked, wanting to be certain she definitely wanted this.  

She smiled at him, and pressed a hot kiss against his lips. He groaned at the feeling, and almost whined when she pulled away, “I want you, John.”  

He only smiled before moving his head back down towards her stomach and pressing open-mouthed kisses against her skin. He hooked his fingers at the waistband of her bottoms and began to pull them downward, her hips rising a little to help him get them off.  

Despite him having seen her naked countless times before, and despite still having her underwear and shirt on, she felt more exposed than ever. Yet when she looked into his eyes, which were already staring back at her - scanning her face for discomfort – she felt herself relax; his eyes were so soft, and held so much love, she felt like her heart was going to burst at the sight.  

He pressed his lips against her knee as he held her leg carefully in his hand. He squeezed the soft flesh of her thigh, enjoying how it jiggled underneath his fingertips. Her breath hitched when he lifted her leg further up her body, the top of her thigh making contact with her torso.  

The position reminded her of the many times he practically folded her in half to pound deeper into her. It reminded her of the nights when she finished multiple times in a row, and when her legs felt sore the day after. But this time was different; instead of his fingertips digging into the skin of her hip, they softly held onto her knee; instead of harsh kisses that stole her breath away, he lightly pressed his lips against the bumpy area of her thigh.  

His eyes gazed upon the cellulite that decorated her skin, but unlike her, he didn’t see flaws. All he saw was the woman he fell in love with. The woman he was willing to take a bullet for. The bumpy area of her thigh was nothing but a decoration on her body. And he kissed it. He kissed every bump that adorned her skin, refusing to miss even a single one.  

Her breathing was turning heavy as he travelled from underneath her knee and down to her buttocks. His fingers caressed the cellulite on her thigh before digging his fingers into her skin and moving her leg to expose the cotton of her underwear.  

He moved his face toward her core, and placed a soft kiss against her clothed clit. A soft mewl left her lips at the action, and he smiled proudly at the sound. “You mind if I take ‘em off, love?”  

She shook her head, and practically begged him to do just that. A breathless ‘please’ left her lips, and that’s all he needed. Quickly, yet still as carefully and softly as before, he pulled the material off her hips and almost salivated at the sight of her bottom half bare in front of him. He swore he would never get tired of seeing her like this; with eyes clenched shut and mouth ajar, small sighs leaving her open lips as she subconsciously rutted her hips towards him.

“John,” his name left her lips in a quiet plea.  

He smirked, and on any other occasion he would have waited another moment; he would have her begging to place his lips around her. Yet this time he gave her what she wanted – what she needed – without a second thought.  

His lips were wrapped on her already swollen clit before she got the chance to say his name again. A choked moan left her lips at the feeling, and her fingers went to grab onto his short hair. Her thighs clenched around his head when his tongue pressed against her hot skin, tasting her arousal as he licked her from the opening of her vagina, and up to her sensitive bud.  

She let out a desperate whine as she lifted her hips, pressing her core harder against his face. She felt him smile against her, the hairs of his beard digging into the skin of her thighs. He wrapped an arm around her abdomen and pushed her down to keep her in place.  

His lips were back to sucking on her clit in no time, and she felt as his index finger moved through her labia and gently pushed into her. The feeling was ecstatic, and she couldn’t help the loud moan that tumbled from her lips. “John,” she chanted his name as though it was the only name she knew.  

He pumped the finger in and out, the sound of her wetness seeping out of her making his cock feel even harder than it already was. He added another finger and curled them in her tight canal. Her soft walls clenched around his digits, and when she attempted to arch her back, he knew she was close.  

The pulls on his hair turned harsher, and her soft thighs squeezed his head when her walls began to spasm. He let her push her core against him, his mouth refusing to leave the swell of her clit as she shook underneath him. Her orgasm seeped out of her and drenched his fingers, which he continued to pump in and out until she stopped moving.  

He pulled out his digits from her and placed them in his mouth, keeping eye contact with her when he licked them clean off her orgasm. The sound that left her lips was unholy, and it took everything in him to not grin like the Cheshire cat in return.  

“You’re stunning,” he told her, and smiled when she moaned at his words.  

He moved back towards her face and kissed her hungrily. She could taste herself on his tongue, and the it made her wrap her arms tightly around his neck. She pushed her torso into his, and when her naked crotch made contact with his still clothed dick, she felt how hard he was. She could only imagine how uncomfortable it was, so she let her hands travel from the hard muscles in his back and towards his abdomen, eager to wrap her fingers around his thickness.

Her hands barely had time to touch the soft material before he pulled them away and shook his head at her. “Not tonight,” he told her and stood up to remove the soft material himself.  

His boxers ended up on the floor of their bedroom, and he didn’t stop until he was fully bare in front of her, his shirt joining the small pile on the floor. She shamelessly ogled his form from the bed, now sat up and hugging her naked legs against her chest.  

He let out a small chuckle at the sight of her, “Enjoying the view?” he asked, getting on his knees in front of her.  

She giggled, “Wish I could take a picture,” she answered with a soft smile.  

He breathed out a laugh and grabbed onto the hem of her shirt, pulling it off her before letting it join his own clothes on the floor. “Show me,” he told her and she looked up at him with a confused expression, “What else, love? Show me.”  

She bit into her bottom lip in thought before nodding and grabbing his wrist. Spreading her thighs so he could step between them, she moved his hand toward her hip. He got her to lay back down as he analysed her skin. It was only then that he saw the faint lines on her body, the stretch marks running from the top of her hip and down to her thigh.  

Truth be told, he never paid them much mind. Sure, he’s seen that they were there, but he never would have guessed they caused her such heartache – such pain. He pressed gentle kisses on her hip, smiling against her before moving to hover above her once again.  

“You know, all scars tell us is that we survived,” he pointed at his own torso, which was littered with scars of all sizes. Some were short and faint and others long and deep, but they all told the same story; he survived everything that was thrown his way.  

She let out a sigh, “They’re not scars, John. They’re stretch marks. I haven’t survived anything.”

“Yeah, you have,” he argued, and she knit her brows in question, “You survive every day, don’t you? No matter what’s thrown at you, you’ve survived it all. Like that time you hit yourself on the table – remember the bruise you had for weeks?” He asked and she nodded, “Look, you might not have survived anything life-threatening, but you survived nonetheless. I mean, you survive with me and my, as you call them, ‘awful hats’ everyday, so that counts for something.” He laughed, “They’re nothing to be ashamed of, sweetheart.”  

She could feel the tears brimming her eyes at his words. She managed to nod, pulling him into another kiss as her legs wrapped around his torso. She was becoming desperate, his words only making her want him inside her more and more.  

“John,” she breathed out, “I love you. I love you so much.”  

He groaned when her hand suddenly grabbed onto the base of his cock and pumped him, moving up and down his length. She lined the tip with the wet entrance of her vagina, moaning at the feeling of his hot and sticky skin pressing against her.

“I love you, too,” he managed to say as he pushed inside of her.

The feeling of his cock stretching her out felt heavenly. She could feel every inch of him as he moved inside of her, pushing in until he bottomed out. His pelvis was pressed against her clit, and she clenched her walls around him at the feeling.  

He grunted, tightening his hold on her left hip as his other hand moved to rest beside her head. “Fuck,” he cursed, forehead pressing against her shoulder. He tapped his hand against the side of her hip, and she arched against him, her hard nipples pressing deliciously against his hot skin.

Taking the chance, he moved a pillow underneath the small of her back, the slight lift allowing him to push even further into her. His tip pressed against the soft wall of her cervix, and she attempted to move her hips against his.  

The desperation was clear on her face when he opened his eyes to look at her. His forehead pressed against hers and he finally moved his hips – slowly, sensually. His thrusts were slow and deep, as though he was trying to reach the deepest depths of her being.

She could feel the love radiating off him; the tenderness of his movements, gentle hold he had on her thigh as he pushed it further up his torso – attempting to reach as deeply as humanly possible – and the way he pressed small kisses against her temple. She could feel it all, and it brought hot tears to her eyes.  

He held onto him as the tears began to roll down her cheeks, and her hips moved in sync with his. He whispered her name in her ear, followed by words of adoration, “Fuckin’ beautiful,” he spoke against her ear, his beard tickling her skin.

She clenched around him and her hips stuttered with every word – with every thrust. “So gorgeous,” he continued, lips pressing against the edge of her jaw after every word, “My fuckin’ gorgeous wife.”

Her abdomen felt hot, and the knot that slowly began to form in her stomach was threatening to snap. He could feel it; he could feel her getting closer. He slightly sped up his movements, his pelvis rubbing against her clit with every single thrust.  

It was becoming too much. The words of love he chanted in her ear, the way her breasts rubbed against the scarred skin of his chest, and the way his cock pressed against the wall of her cervix with every single thrust. It was too much, and with a clench of her walls, she felt the knot finally break.  

A loud moan got past his lips as the feeling of her walls hugging him tighter. His own hips began to stutter, and as she continued to spasm in his arms, her pushed into her with one final thrust.  

She felt the warmth of his cum filling up her insides, the feeling only making her whine louder than before. His forehead went to press against hers once more as he fully emptied himself inside of her, his orgasm mixing with hers.

They stayed like that for a moment; he was still inside her, her arms wrapped tightly around his neck and bodies remained flushed together. They were both panting, their chests heaving after the passionate and intense session.  

When she eventually opened her eyes – her vision slightly blurred from her orgasm – he was already staring back at her. The corners of his lips were pulled into a smile, and his eyes held a softness she had seen many times before, yet would never get tired of.  

“Hello, gorgeous,” he whispered, his voice hoarse as he repeated the compliment he had previously chanted like a prayer.  

She smiled, her arms loosening around his neck as she moved to cup his cheeks in her palms, “Hello, handsome,” she replied.  

With a look full of love, he pressed a kiss against her cheek and pushed himself up to pull out of her. She whined at the feeling of sudden loss, her hands grabbing onto his forearms that were on either side of her head. She could feel his release slowly seeping out of her, and before it could trickle too far down – before their bed sheets were ruined – he picked her up from the bed.  

She let out a squeal of surprise when she was lifted into his arms, and with an amused laugh, he took them both to the bathroom. “Bath?” he asked as he placed her on her feet, making sure she was steady and her legs weren’t wobbling.  

She held onto his shoulder for a second, but nodded when she felt the feeling return to her legs. As he went to draw them both a bath, she reached for the towel cabinet and pulled out a small, clean rag. She wet it with warm water and just as she was about to wipe it on her thigh, it was taken from her.

John turned her around and pressed her back against the cold sink, making her hiss out at the feeling. He only chuckled when he grabbed one of her thighs and pulled it up towards him, only to then press the warm towel against her hot skin. He cleaned off the stickiness of her thighs, doing the same for himself before pressing the material flush against her crotch, collecting the arousal that had seeped out of her.  

She couldn’t help but flinch and moan at the feeling, her mouth falling ajar as she grabbed onto her husband’s bicep. “Sorry, had to clean you up,” he told her with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

She almost rolled her eyes at him, but could only smile when he pulled her in for a kiss. The towel was discarded in the sink as his hands moved to rest on her waist. The skin-on-skin contact was nice, the intimacy of the moment causing a certain peacefulness to fall upon them.  

“C’mon,” he eventually said and led her to the bathtub full of hot water.

The moment the water enveloped her, she could feel her muscles relaxing from the warmth that surrounded her. John stepped in behind her and pulled her into his chest, where she rested her head against his shoulder.

His hand moved to lay on the expanse of her stomach, lightly rubbing the area as she nuzzled into him. She finally felt happy, and content with herself. The insecurities that previously burdened her mind were forgotten, and the only thing she could focus on was John, and how he lovingly held onto her. She knew the thoughts would eventually return, and that they would try their very hardest to be the only thing occupying her mind. But she also knew John would be there to put a stop to them every single time.  

“Thank you, John,” she whispered into the silence.  

All he did in return was press his cheek against the top of her head and hum as he pulled her in even closer towards him. He didn’t say anything, and he didn’t need to, because his actions spoke louder than words ever could.  

[the-witheredroses]

living far away out from the town with cowboy!price, where landscapes, instead of wooden shops and small decrepit houses turn into boundless, bright green meadows with fragrant flowers and ploughed dark land.

with a small, comfortable cottage with its own small, but good farm with fattened cattle, a small stable and even garden beds for planting, a place where there will definitely be something to do, with john on your side, his heavy hand on the curve of your waist like an anchor.

with lazy mornings under the dim rays of the sun shining through the thin, fluttering curtains, the sharp sound of your spacious bed thumping against the wall reverberates through the bedroom, as john's hairy, bulky body bends over you, strong hands grip the headboard almost till it's cracks, while his broad hips jerk forward.

with your head tilted back onto the soft pillows with melodious, whiny moans slipping past your swollen lips and past the wide open window, john's bushy pelvic brushing against your slick folds as he rearranges your silky cunt, his fat cock pumping into your cervix and your gooey, pulsing walls clenching around him deliciously tightly.

both of you barely speak, all that escapes from your kissed lips are moans and chesty growls, as your nails dig into his back, leaving thin, fresh scarlet scratches on top of his old scars, as john bends further to lick into your panting, slacked mouth.

this is all you could possibly dream of, a quiet life on the outskirts, which will probably become less peaceful in a couple of years, when john will impregnate you with sweet, chubby kids.

✎ 𝘮𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵. 𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘴. 𝘢𝘰3.

[the-witheredroses]

Going off of him calling reader his wife, Ps! Gaz whose highest rated video with his favorite girl is a "Honeymoon" night concept where it's basically a really romantic lovemaking video.

Their natural chemistry is perfect and the romance feels real; they even joke around a little and take things slow.

And that vid is what confirms for the fans that there's something going on between them that goes beyond the cameras.

- 🦴

part 237423849 of kore writing a drabble/one shot when she probably shouldn't have. not edited because my brain is fried? idk save me, pornstar!gaz, save me

It's late into the night when your phone screen illuminates your face.

A sleepless night quickly plagues you with a wandering mind that won't let go of the images that still haunt you from your last shoot with Kyle. The two of you have filmed countless times together, but there's something about this most recent one that refuses to let go of your mind. It overwhelms you so much that you've got your studio's porn site on your phone at nearly one in the morning. 

Usually, you hate watching the videos you perform in. It crosses an odd sort of boundary in your mind that makes you feel disgusted with yourself, but you can't help but watch the one you filmed with Kyle titled "Honeymoon Getaway." Before the video even starts, you notice the ratings. Tens of thousands of people have watched the video already, and it was only edited and published five days ago. The ratings are all positive, thousands of thumbs ups and bookmarks.

Your teeth sink into your lip once the video starts. Both you and Kyle are dressed in your "wedding" attire; a well fitted suit with the jacket removed for him, and a white slip that covers your bridal lingerie for you. It's... sensual. The way he kisses you. And really fucking weird watching it from a third person perspective. You vividly remember his breath against your face and the way his hand caressed your cheek, but it's not what you're looking for, so you skip ahead. 

When the video loads the next portion, Kyle's face is buried in your cunt. The angle they filmed it at is nothing compared to the view you had in real life. The way he kissed the side of your knee, keeping eye contact with you for as long as he could as he kissed all the way down your thigh until his tongue was on your clit… it’s a sensation that ghosts along the inside of your legs even as you lay there in bed. 

But the video? Fuck, it’s terrible. Focusing more on the side view, obscuring his pretty face with your thigh. At this point, you’re ready to take the camera and film everything from a first person point of view next time you film with Kyle. 

But that’s besides the point. You’re looking for something else. 

Once again, you skip ahead and the sound of your laughter emanates from the speakers on your phone. Kyle, who had been hovering over your body, had quickly rolled you on top of him, switching your spots. It was done so effortlessly, and you try your best not to gawk at the way his muscles flex as you straddle him.

"Kyle," your voice whines over the speakers.

"Better view this way," is all he responds.

You hate it. Hate the way he makes your stomach churn just from a video alone. It almost churns worse than it did when you were really filming with him, pretending to be love-struck newlyweds fucking one another in an expensive hotel room.

You skip forward again, a significant distance this time, and Kyle has you pinned to the bed on your back. With his hands underneath your knees, you're nearly kissing them as he ruts into you. You try not to pay too much attention as the camera pans to a view of your cunt sucking him in like the good little wife you pretended to be.

Luckily, you're not stuck watching it for too long before the film shoots over Kyle's shoulders, showcasing the way your tits bounce at his relentless pace. You grimace when they zoom in, but it's not much longer before you finally find what you were searching for.

"My sweet wife. I love you so fuckin' much."

You sit up straight the moment you find it, and your fingers are scrambling to rewind so you can hear him again. The breathlessness of his voice, the lilt in his tone. It feels like gold on your ears, yet it has your heart shredding into pieces in your chest. It feels real. Too real.

But it can't last forever.

You pause the video, ceasing the sound of your moans and Kyle's fake confession. Everything spins around you when you look up from the screen and at the darkness of your room. Lonely. So fucking lonely and cold. You shake your head as you look back at your phone, and you decide to make the terrible mistake of sleuthing through the comments.

The idea of it all, was finding something that would turn you off so that you could forget it all and go back to sleep. And there were plenty of disgusting comments:

>> need a submissive wife like this

>> great tits

>> too soft with her. you need to learn to put your bitch in place the first night.

It should have been enough. You should have stopped there, but you don't. You can't stop scrolling, and scrolling, and scrolling. It's a vicious cycle that you can't stop, and you're stuck reading every single comment and speculation from anyone who still had living brain cells after jerking off to your video. Each and every one of them destroy you more than the last:

>> I feel like i'm ruining a special moment lmao

>> there's no way these two aren't together irl what the fuck

>> can't wait to see these two on OF together when they realize they don't want to fuck anyone else lol

>> nah, they really snuck in a whole crew on their actual honeymoon that's dedication

>> he sounds like he's about to cry when he says he loves her

You shut your phone off and fight the urge to toss it across the room as you slam yourself back against your mattress. All you want to do is sleep but your chest aches so furiously that it's all you can focus on. Everything feels so real with Kyle, and it's not fair that he's always out of your grasp. Always teasing you with the promise of fucking you off camera, of looking at you like you're the only woman in the world.

A tremble begins in your bottom lip as you shove your face into your pillow. Kyle Garrick is going to be the death of you, you're sure of it. Judging by the tears that soak your pillow that night, you know it's not going to be a kind death, either.