dragonbe-writing

[dragonbe-writing]

sexualizingthatoldman.com/careers

[dragonbe-writing]

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.

#one of the few stories where they do this kink correctly #john price x reader #captain john price #john price x you #cod mw2 #john price #captain john price x reader #john price x female reader #john price x f!reader #captain price #john price x fem!reader

[dragonbe-writing]

Some more here..

#this story breaks me and i love it

[dragonbe-writing]

you’ve relied on yourself for so long that it’s a little jarring when gaz or soap (or both tbh) are there to help you out.

it starts off small, seeing you wobble around the grocery store with your left foot encased in a walking boot. its infuriating to watch as other customers weave carefully around you, as if you’re plagued instead of helping you out. so he takes matters into his own hands and helps you out. afterall, what would his mother say if he hadnt helped a pretty thing like you out?

“need a hand?” he asks but doesn’t wait for a response. instead, he pries the basket out of your hands, ignoring any attempt to take it back. your cheeks feel hot and you stutter through a rebuttal, trying to tell him that you’re okay but he doesn’t pay it any mind.

you spend the next half hour adding items to the basket while he tries to chat you up. by the time you’re done checking out he’s holding your bags and asking where your car is.

the tips of your ears burn when you tell him that you don’t own a car, you actually live close by. he gives you a sly grin and asks you where to, no intention of letting you walk home without help in your current condition. he memorizes your address and makes a note to alter his daily walk route to pass by.

and suddenly this one time thing starts to become the new normal. oh you’re bringing in some new things into your apartment? let him help you! doctor’s told you you’re not supposed to be lifting anything too heavy.

walking out of you apartment on an errand? oh what a coincidence! he’s got an errand to run in that part of town too! why don’t you hold on to him and use his arm as support as you’re hobbling over?

oh no! did the delivery drivers refuse to bring up your package to your apartment! there’s no need to worry love, he’ll help you out. he hoists the package over his shoulder, barely winded asking, “right then, where’d you want this?”

absolutely does not miss the way you gawk at him as you usher him to the elevator. feigning ignorance as he watches you try and fail to not eye him up.

and of course he’s so gracious and helps ease up the tension and stress that comes with being injured, has you on your back, legs over his shoulder, pressing a kiss to the bruised ankle as he rolls his hips into you.

“that’s it. pretty thing like you doesn’t need to worry about anything else but cumming on this cock. let me handle it all for you.”

[dragonbe-writing]

“Nobody’s going to want to sit on high-speed rail for fifteen hours to get from New York City to LA.”

Me. I will sit on high-speed rail for fifteen hours. I’ll sit on it for days. I’ll write and read and nap and eat and then do it all over again. I’ll stare out the windows and see America from ground level and not have to drive. I’ll see the Rockies and the deserts and cornfields and the Mississippi River and your house and yours and yours too. I’ll make up stories in my head about the small towns I see as we go along. I’ll see the states I’ve yet to see because driving or flying there is a fucking slog and expensive to boot. I’ll enjoy the ride as much as the destination. And then I’ll do it all over again to come the fuck home.

[dragonbe-writing]

[dragonbe-writing]

hey you know how you’ve made Ghost, Soap and Gaz (sorta) belly posts?

Can we get a Price one next? 😼

ALSO I JUST WANNA SAY UR ART MAKES MY SKULL SO ITCHY IN THE BEST WAY POSSIBLE I LOVE IT SM ‼️‼️

poor captain was a little hesitant, but here ya go!

[dragonbe-writing]

Hungover: knight!price x princess!reader

"Do you need a bucket?"

"Don't speak to me right now."

Sir John Price didn't try to hide his smile as he stood in the solar near the couch where you laid sprawled out. You had called him there so you could out early in the morning, however you ended confining yourself to the couch with a shawl covering your eyes.

"How are you not bedridden like me?" You groaned and he chuckled.

"Because," He began. He walked to the door and opened it, luckily catching one of the servants and asking her to bring you tea before he shut the door again. "I have a tolerance. You've barely drank more than a cup of wine in your life."

"Don't speak about alcohol, I may be sick."

Price scoffed and walked back over to you. He glanced around the room, shutting the curtains enough to where most of the sunlight was hidden but still illuminated the room before he turned to you. He knew there was no way you were going outside today, maybe not even outside the solar.

Because of that he felt a little out of place. You had no need for him, even if he wanted to stay. It would be a very bad look on you if he were stay around when you didn't need him and he didn't want to jeopardize you. There was also nothing he could do in the solar; he couldn't embroider or play chess because you were not capable.

There were the books but he'd rather do something else to torture himself with them.

"Should I leave, your highness?" He wondered but you shook your head.

"Keep me company. I won't fall asleep." You said softly.

"Do you believe that's wise?"

You peeked at him from behind the shawl and saw his concerned look. He glanced at the door again, saying it without saying it, and you thought for a long moment.

"Servants see everything but they seldom speak to anyone about it." You assure him as you placed the shawl back over your eyes. "And if I tell them I want you here, then they won't question it."

Price hummed, unable to stop the smile that tugged at his lips as he took a seat. You wanted him here.

"Should've brought my cards." He stretched out in the chair and looked through the crack of the curtains.

"You're free to the books." You gestured vaguely to the room before you brought the shawl down from your eyes. "I know, you could read to me."

Price's eyes widened and he looked at you with surprise. His mouth went a little dry as you stared at him with genuine joy at the idea yet he couldn't return it.

"You want to listen to me?" He wondered and you nodded.

"I'll fall asleep otherwise." You argued softly, though you weren't going to admit he might put you to sleep as well.

As much as he wanted to argue he could see that you weren't going to back down. He knew you wouldn't but now he was trapped, backed into a corner with no way to recover from this.

He could only imagine what you would say to him. What you might think, the crown princess of pure noble blood, would do when you found out the best knight in the realm's secret.

Regrettably he stood and walked to the shelf, staring at the many spines of the books.

"What should I read to you?" He's not sure why he asked, it's not like he would be able to pick out the right one.

"It doesn't matter, I've read them all." You hummed and you situated yourself more comfortably. "Which reminds me, I need to get different books soon."

Price hummed, noting that as he pulled out a random book. He eyed the cover, the engraved words meaning nothing to him as he felt himself grow even more nervous.

Perhaps he could come up with an excuse to leave...no he couldn't. He didn't want to hurt your feeling to save his pride.

"This one?" He held it up so you could see.

"Oh, that's one of my favorites! Good choice, Sir John." You smile and he sucked in his lips as his heart sunk.

"Alright..."

Price sat back in his chair and flipped the book open, pointedly ignoring your expectant stare as he stared at the first page. He couldn't even begin to guess what any of the words meant, only being able to recognize "the" "and" and "a". On maps he just memorized what others called the names on them, for letters he made Kyle write them. Here he had no crutch, nothing to fall back on and he shifted uncomfortably.

"Can you read, Sir John?" Your voice was softer but he couldn't look at you.

"No, your highness." He admitted and shut the book.

"Did your father not teach you?" You titled your head with confusion. "All squires get an education."

He couldn't lie anymore. He shook his head and kept his eyes on the cover of the book.

"I was very fortunate that the lord who took me in did, but I was already of age to start training, so I didn't have the time."

Your eyes widened with realization.

"You weren't born a noble?"

"No."

You stayed silent and Price found it hard not to feel some sort of shame. He hadn't deliberately lied, it was just that everyone had assumed he was fully noble without question. He grew up hidden among them, seeing a part of life he hadn't even dreamed of knowing that many of the other knights he had trained with would deny his nobility simply because his parents were peasants.

He knew how quickly things would fall apart if anyone found out, even if he was the best knight.

Now you knew.

It was another nail in the coffin of his unattainable desires. Not only was he a knight but he was technically a peasant. Your mother would punish you harder, which meant it was a good thing it'd never come to be.

Though he could only imagine how much this changed how you saw him.

"Why are you ashamed?" You sat up slowly and he finally glanced at you.

"You're not that naïve. Many would see me as a false knight despite my best efforts." He explained and you looked at him with soft yet serious eyes.

"Do their opinion mean more than your skills?"

Price's eyebrows knitted together and he looked at you for a moment. He had never thought about it that way but in reality the only thing that mattered to him was that the job got done, and that the crown was safe. That you were safe.

When he shook his head you nodded with finality.

"It shouldn't matter anyway. A knight's value is in his skill and you're incredibly well trained and brave." You said and he looked away bashfully. "If I heard such nonsense I wouldn't let it stand."

"You flatter me, your highness." He flashed you a nervous smile and you returned it.

"Better than barbaric."

He scoffed and nodded but couldn't think of anything else to say. He didn't like that you knew but seeing that you didn't care made him feel somewhat better. And knowing how you think of him took most of the embarrassment away.

He grabbed the book and stood up to put it back when you spoke.

"I'll teach you to read." You stated and he looked at you incredulously.

"I can't ask you to do that-"

"You didn't. I said I would."

Somehow you always managed to surprise him in the strangest ways possible. He watched you sigh in thought as you lounged back down on the couch and situate yourself more comfortably.

You stared at him with an unreadable look in your eyes that made him shift on his feet.

"Once I'm better." You smiled and closed your eyes. "Now tell me a story, or we'll both waste away from boredom."

He stared at you, unsure yet he couldn't help the way that his shoulders felt less tense and how...excited he felt to be able to read in the future.

The things he could do for you once he could would be endless.

"A story, eh? This one will be better than your books."

A/n: Sir John Price is not a poet and yet maybe he might write you something someday

Tags: @deadbranch @makayla-666 @glitterypirateduck @dumbbitchgalore @m0chac0ffee @dragonbe-writing @sleepyoriana @twismare @blush-haze @waiting-so-long @sofasoap

[dragonbe-writing]

had a dream that I met a wizard and we fell in love and became unhealthily attached to each other so we decided to meld into one single creature together but the process was horrifically slow and painful and most of the dream was us lying in bed holding hands while lesions opened up in our skin and seeped out blue and green fluid and the wizard said "this is going to take a very very long time" and I said "that's ok"

[dragonbe-writing]

Bad Batch and the Mandalorian have broken me, so I'm posting something other than Star Wars. Well, kind of...

I've been on a MW2 kick right now, so here's Ghost and Soap as Mandalorians. Because if the 141 was in the star wars universe, they would definitely be Mandalorians. "Weapons are part of my religion"? Yea, that's them. And Ghost is the same faction as Din, a purist who doesn't remove his helmet. Soap definitely isn't lol

#oh fuck oh shit #oh fuck me

[dragonbe-writing]

(◡‿◡✿)

(ʘ‿ʘ✿) “what you say ‘bout me”

(ʘ‿ʘ)ノ✿ “hold my flower”

[dragonbe-writing]

when artists draw ghost or price with a soft stomach instead of cut abs:

[dragonbe-writing]

scrambling to the floor to lick it up like a dog

#sorry i was laying on the floor #he always leaves me like that *swoon*

[dragonbe-writing]

cw: dubcon humping. gn reader. he’s just a little pent up guys.

gaz is absolutely the type to squeeze you into a hug that lasts a bit too long.

idk, maybe you’re his best friend or something. someone he instantly clicked with at uni and who’s stuck around despite everyone else in his life falling away like pastry crumbs. devotion that isn’t romantic nor entirely platonic in a sense, but a secret third thing that has you inviting him to stay the night when he returns home and his flat is too far a drive for someone so tired.

you greet him at your door when he arrives. he’s bulkier than when he left for deployment, fills up the arms of his t-shirt and the thighs of his pants. smells like sweat and the faint traces of his cologne (Y by yves saint laurent. you’d gotten it for his birthday.) so sexy you might as well abandon your propriety and slip a hand down the course hairs of his happy trail. but you don’t. instead, you go in for one of your patented this-isn’t-more-than-a-friendship half hugs.

which he does not take. as your one arm hooks around his neck, both of his wrap around your waist and force you to embrace him fully. it’s crushing. so tight you have to lift your head to breathe properly. he lifts you off your feet and sways you back and forth as he whispers little complaints; things about stubborn CO’s or unnecessary bloodshed. you allow it because it sounds like he needs it, this small comfort.

except it verges on longer than a few seconds. longer than proper for a pair of good uni friends. his hand kneads the flesh of your back, and his hips grind against your groin. is he hard, or is that a gun he has yet to unarm? you can’t tell, but it seems to work for him when the hard mass in his jeans catches the canyon of yours. he groans quietly, stuttered, as his thrusts gain pace. as he tightens himself like a cobra around its prey. as he plants his lips onto your neck and starts inhaling the scent of your freshly washed skin.

“…kyle?” you whisper, awkward hands flailing about behind him. your voice comes out in a strained way, vocal chords crushed against his shoulder.

“jus… give- fuck. give me a moment, mate.”

so you do. it doesn’t last much longer after that, anyway. his grinding grows brutal, knocks the little air left out of your lungs. it hurts to a degree. he’s hitting the tendon between your leg and crotch – and you’re sure it’ll be tender in the upcoming days – but you don’t voice your troubles to the man around you, who unravels at such a startling pace you know he’s too far gone to pay proper attention regardless. how else would he be bold enough to grope the plush curve of your ass? two hands latch onto it like dough, anchoring you up so the angle hits just right.

and then he starts to get sloppy. his rhythm loses pace. his stance widens and he fucking whines into your ear as a wet spot spreads across the front of his pants. you’re so dizzy that, when he lets go of you, you have to hold onto his forearm to steady yourself, blinking owlishly at the grin that stretches across his face. as if he didn’t just hump you and cream in his clothes. why are you the one caught off guard?

“thanks for that.” he winks, then pets the flyaways off your temple.

#WHEW #GOOD LORD #i’ll start barking be so fr

[dragonbe-writing]

☀️

Hairy baby boy Soap

#GOD DAYUM #CMERE BABY LET ME TAKE A CHUNK OUTTA THAT ASS #YUMMY YUMMY

[dragonbe-writing]

roll on 18 wheeler roll on (me)….

#call of duty #cod #simon ghost riley #ghost cod #this fridge has all the cake too #ghost #daddy fr #crush me with your bicep please and thank you

[dragonbe-writing]

hot artists don't gatekeep

I've been resource gathering for YEARS so now I am going to share my dragons hoard

Floorplanner. Design and furnish a house for you to use for having a consistent background in your comic or anything! Free, you need an account, easy to use, and you can save multiple houses.

Comparing Heights. Input the heights of characters to see what the different is between them. Great for keeping consistency. Free.

Magma. Draw online with friends in real time. Great for practice or hanging out. Free, paid plan available, account preferred.

Smithsonian Open Access. Loads of free images. Free.

SketchDaily. Lots of pose references, massive library, is set on a timer so you can practice quick figure drawing. Free.

SculptGL. A sculpting tool which I am yet to master, but you should be able to make whatever 3d object you like with it. free.

Pexels. Free stock images. And the search engine is actually pretty good at pulling up what you want.

Figurosity. Great pose references, diverse body types, lots of "how to draw" videos directly on the site, the models are 3d and you can rotate the angle, but you can't make custom poses or edit body proportions. Free, account option, paid plans available.

Line of Action. More drawing references, this one also has a focus on expressions, hands/feet, animals, landscapes. Free.

Animal Photo. You pose a 3d skull model and select an animal species, and they give you a bunch of photo references for that animal at that angle. Super handy. Free.

Height Weight Chart. You ever see an OC listed as having a certain weight but then they look Wildly different than the number suggests? Well here's a site to avoid that! It shows real people at different weights and heights to give you a better idea of what these abstract numbers all look like. Free to use.

#not an artist (yet) but trying to learn