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sh1-n0bu · 8 months

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𝔫𝔬𝔟𝔲’𝔰 𝔨𝔦𝔫𝔨𝔱𝔬𝔟𝔢𝔯 𝔬𝔣 2023!

day 16: thigh riding with ningguang from genshin impact

warnings: thigh riding, exhibitionism, clit stimulation, fingering, slapping (only once tho)

notes: my ladies need some love too

what better way to destress and relax after a meeting with a particularly annoying business people than riding your lover’s thigh all the while spilling the drama about your day?

peppering their face with an array of kisses, stopping the lazy humping of your thigh for a moment as your lover reapplies your lipstcik for you again. when feeling particularly more fussy and words would get too harsh and she would seem more stressed, she would simply melt in your hold as she lets out a breathy moan, your thumb circling around her clit.

truly, what a blessing it was to be in the arms of your lover. what more blessing it was whenever you would gently flick her sensitive clit, slipping a finger inside her wet folds teasingly before slipping it out again. the tianquan would huff out, pouting at you before getting her revenge with more kisses on your face.

your face was a canvas to her. covered in red lip marks everywhere. forehead, lips, eyelids, cheeks, temples — anywhere her lips could reach would be her canvas. and if you saw that her lipstick was diminishing once again, you would hold her hips still on your lap. ningguang would always whine out at that but you would shush her up with a peck before reapplying her lipstick for her. such a doting lover.

“—and the anmfg… annoying bastard said that i-aahh♡︎ lack in politics when clearly i have been running liyue all along!” the tianquan huffs, arms loosely wrapped around your neck as she lazily grinds her slick folds over your thigh. it was slow and lazy in movements, almost as if she was deliberately delaying the blissful feeling of being on your lap.

yes, this was right after her business meeting. yes, you two were in her office at the jade chamber and ningguang didn’t seemed to have minded it at all when she pushed you down on the chair, removing her panties as she straddled your lap. well, not like you minded it either. you loved to make her feel stress free after all.

“what bold words for a mere diplomat. they really did pit you through the ringer, huh?” you hum softly, hands placed over her hips and helping her with her movements. there was no need to rush things but you can feel her leaking all over your pants, indicating that she was getting closer to the edge.

“don’t worry, nin’. i’ll take very good care of ya’♡︎” you whisper in her ear, making the usually calm and composed woman have red in her cheeks. your hands that were simply helping her with her movements squeeze the fat of her hips. right at where she had a hipdip — you always loved squeezing her hipdips, they always fit perfectly on your palms — your hands guide her to move a little bit faster. pushing her down onto your flexing thigh, making ningguang moan out so sweetly.

seeing that she got the hang of your changed tempo, you eventually let go of her hips. slipping a hand under the slit of her dress, going to rest on her ass, gently fondling the plush fat lovingly. your other hand moves towards her front, deciding to flick and tease her clit.

“aanhh! haanh… so good… you always ngh♡︎ know how to take good care of me—!” the tianquan moans, her movements becoming a bit more erratic. bucking her hips, unable to decide whether she should buck her hips back to feel your hand fondling her ass more or to fuck herself over the teasing rubs you were giving to her already sensitive and stimulated clit.

but before she could whine out for you, you make the decision for her. giving her plush rear one good slap — which made her let out a mewl — your hand that was on her ass comes to the front. just as she was about to scold you for leaving her rear unattended to, you slip two fingers inside her wet cunt easily, shushing her up.

“gyaack! ohhm.. mmgh… feels so good… your fingers.. feels r-really good aaanh!!” unable to help herself, she settles on simply sitting on your fingers snuggly. she was so close. her juices were getting all over your hand, making a mess on your pants as well. the feeling of her warm walls clamping down kn your fingers with a vice grip was enough to make you let out a groan.

fuck, you were always so good with your fingers. stretching her needy cunt open with your fingers, wet folds making a lewd noise whenever she would jolt on your lap, fingers scissoring her wide open. and your other hand pinching, squeezing and thumbing around her clit didn’t help either. it made her so sensitive.

hands clenching on the fabric of your shirt, head thrown back as she whines and moans brokenly, leaking cunny sucking your fingers in with every breath and jolt that racks her body.

that familiar feeling of lava swirling in her stomach gets more intense. heat coiling in her tummy, her noises becoming more desperate. a finger thrust deep inside her, other hand pinching at her clit and pulling on it slightly. that was all it took for ningguang to let out a choked up moan of your name. thighs clenching and legs shaking. her heels making clacking, clittering noises on the floor as she comes all over your hand, staining your pants alongside it.

but that was fine. you can just wash it out later. at least you made your beloved tianquan feel good.

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soleilnomoon · 1 year

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i would love to place an order for Meringue Cookies, Dark Chocolate, Jelly Beans, Candy Necklace, & Blan Manje, with Caramel & Honey. Side menu # 1 for Boa or Nami. either is fine! with a g/n reader! These stories are a blast to read!

anon i am so so sry this took forever 😭💕💕💕 but i finally finished and i'm actually happy with it; also ty for requesting, i love boa hancock sfm i wish more ppl wrote for her.

4.3k words, gn reader (no pronouns), nsfw, 18+ mdni; angst angst angst bc that's how i vibe & smut, and if you squint real hard there's some fluff somehow i think. hancock is a brat as usual and reader ain't shit, but they go great together <3 feat. cute things like oral (f receiving), fingering, a lil bondage, hair pulling, some pussy slapping, more stuff that idr anymore ૮₍ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ₎ა (if u see grammar/spelling errors no u didn't ;_;)

tagging lil’ kaia bc she asked so nicely ❤︎ @cvvor

“our love would be death” — anaïs nin

sea salt sifts through the wind, warm and fine enough that most don’t notice its intrusion. it lands on your nose and lips, coats your tongue when you exhale through your mouth; no matter how many times you try to wash away the taste, it still lingers. a persistent annoyance that refuses to leave you alone. it’s a bitter, yet familiar taste — one that fills your heart with memories you’ve long wanted to keep buried. you’re no stranger to heartache, but this is different.

you find that you can never sleep through the entire night without dreaming of your ex — of how you begged them to stay, of how you told them you couldn’t live without them. pathetic, you tell yourself one morning after another restless night — you know you need to find a way to move on, but there’s no way you can, not when you carved so many pieces of yourself to give away without much thought.

what you’re left with is a battered heart that can barely function on its own; it flops pitifully in your chest, rattling against your rib cage weakly. every day it gets harder to breathe, harder to face the truth that you’re all alone — again.

boa hancock doesn’t know why she even fucking bothers, but she can’t seem to stay away from you. it’s a privilege, in her opinion, for you to be graced with her presence, let alone be allowed to touch her intimately. so, when she finds you staring wistfully out of the window, sighing to yourself again she snaps.

“y/n, look at me,” she commands loudly, voice piercing through your body like a thick arrow that keeps you frozen in place. you know better than to disobey her, even though you want to; you know you’re being unreasonable, but the heart always wants what it can’t have, right?

not that she cares about any of that. in her mind, your ex is an ex for a reason. she grabs your face with her hand, squeezing tightly, delicate brows furrowed together as irritation drips down her spine. she could easily kill you and you know it. “i’m the most beautiful woman in the world,” she boasts, although there’s something melancholic about the way she says it.

you narrow your eyes at her, mouth moving before you can think better of it. “and what of it?” it’s not often that you challenge her like that, but today you’ve had enough of her games, of constantly catering to her whims and desires, of her veneer that she insists on keeping even when she’s alone with you.

it dawns on her then what the actual problem is. “you’re still in love with them.” anger seeps through her pores, and she knows if she doesn’t walk away soon, she might say or do something she’ll possibly regret.

you flinch, eyes widening — she’s not entirely wrong, but she’s not right either. you’re just stuck in limbo, unable to move on because you refuse to do so; after seeing them so happy with someone else, you can’t fathom finding any sort of happiness yourself. so, you cling onto the past, even when it threatens to destroy your present life.

for some reason, this pisses you off — that hancock is so much more perceptive than people give her credit for; that she’s not afraid to tell you the truth, despite how your friends sugarcoat everything for you. the rage that’s bubbled deep inside of you for months finally pushes out; you can barely think or see properly, and you forget yourself when you practically shout back at her.

“and you’re just jealous because for once, you’re not the focus of my attention.” you’re not sure why you say it, but as soon as the words leave your mouth, you feel like shit.

there’s rarely a moment where hancock finds herself in absolute shock, but your venomous words cut into her bruised ego with vigor. it's a harsh reality that she refuses to accept, so she lashes out at you again.

“you’re pathetic.” her tone is cold, and she steels her face enough that she almost looks bored with you. hancock releases her hold on you and swivels on her heels to walk away. you don’t bother calling after her, but she pauses in her gait to look over her shoulder at you. “i’m done playing with you, get out of my sight.”

the dismissal is the first slap of many and her insistence on blatantly keeping her back turned while she ignores you is another. something in you breaks, but you know you’ve angered the pirate empress enough for one day. you don’t hesitate before scrambling to your feet and leaving her alone. after you close the door, you hear a shriek that’s accompanied by what sounds like a large vase shattering. you don’t bother checking on her, because you know you’re not wanted in her presence right now.

you should’ve seen this coming. one doesn’t simply think about another lover while in the presence of boa hancock; it’s absurd and theatrical, but it’s an unspoken rule that you keep breaking over and over. in the back of your mind, you know you should go make things right with her, but you just don’t know how.

hancock’s frustration continues to build throughout the day. she doesn’t know why someone — you, a commoner who should be groveling at her feet daily — can be so insolent without remorse. she’s smashed several expensive sculptures, shredded her mattress and bed sheets with large scissors, and cursed out every staff member in kuja palace. her anger only intensifies when she hears someone whisper your name, so she locks herself in her bedroom, refusing meals or assistance from anyone.

you’ve always thought that the pirate empress was annoying, self-centered, and unnecessarily mean without reason. you’ve told her this on several occasions, stunning her into silence — a feat that most cannot achieve. hancock would normally sentence someone to death for those sorts of callous remarks, but for some reason she spares you. maybe it’s because despite her incomparable, unrivaled beauty, you don’t helplessly pine after her.

and she absolutely hates that about you.

hancock’s not someone who’s used to being treated like a regular person, and yet that’s what you do to her. you barely hold any reverence for her, give her the minimal amount of respect owed as a citizen of amazon lily, and you don’t flinch when she threatens you publicly. most are afraid to be associated with you, out of fear for incurring the snake princess’ wrath — not that you care, you’ve known that your personality can’t be tolerated by most because you tend to happily go against the grain.

you’ve always found her beauty to be intense and intoxicating — imposing like the sun, forcing a heat to surge through you that has yet to dissipate. you hate that your attraction to her impedes your daily life, especially when you’re plagued by dueling thoughts of her and your ex. you’re barred from entering the palace, and you’re thankful for it as you don’t know how you’d be able to face hancock after all that you’ve said. you know that you should apologize profusely, but a woman like hancock requires something extravagant and elaborate — something that’ll prove that your adoration and loyalty is genuine and not forced.

the first few days are relatively easy; you work tirelessly to keep your mind and body busy, and you’re so exhausted by the end of the day that you sleep without dreaming. when a week passes, you start to notice that certain things are off; you didn’t make it a habit of frequenting the palace that often, but you were there enough that the staff didn’t give you a hard time when you showed up unannounced. you tell yourself that distance is good — it means you’ll be able to finally focus on the things that are important to you.

but, when you sit and think about it, you’re not quite sure if that’s entirely true.

after the second week, you start getting antsy. your friends keep pestering you, asking why your mood keeps shifting day to day — you’re intolerable and grouchy, snap at minor things and make mistakes all day. your heart, as tired and as worn out as it is, still skips a beat when you think about hancock despite what you try to tell yourself when you’re alone. somehow, you’ve convinced yourself that the only reason why you’re thinking about her, is because you miss fucking her.

the lie is tough to digest, but you keep repeating it and sooner or later you’ll believe it, right?

soon, everything reminds you of her.

on a warm night, a small festival is held, and you wander around listless and slightly tipsy. memories of the first time you met boa hancock — outside of all the fanfare that her royal title awards her — plague you relentlessly. you remember the warmth from that night, similar to this one; you remember how highly oppressive and unbearable the humidity was; and you also remember that you were on your third drink when you unceremoniously bumped into the pirate empress.

at first, her sisters demanded you apologize, but you were annoyed and had just been dumped so you chose audacity instead.

hancock’s irritation was evident, despite her not saying much — and it wasn’t until your rambling struck a nerve that she fired back. it was the first time he’d let her walls down, and her sisters watched in shock as both of you went back and forth over nothing. hancock called you all sorts of terrible names, and you sneered and laughed in her face. the fact that you weren’t cowering in fear or salivating over her beauty set her skin on fire in a way she didn’t understand.

you remember her dismissing the other gorgon sisters, insisting that she’d be able to handle you on her own. and she did, in a way. if anyone were to ask her about that time, hancock would easily admit that she regrets meeting you that night — but it would be a lie. the only thing she regrets is allowing you to infiltrate her heart, to settle without permission, to make her feel less than when she knew she was anything but.

her brattiness is unappealing on the surface and you normally wouldn’t be attracted to a woman who boldly wears such an ugly personality with pride. somehow, hancock has made the trait endearing to you, in a strange way; she’s so unapologetic with her behavior, that you find it rather comical. why people take her seriously is beyond you.

but, despite all of that, you do miss her.

you miss seeing the way her nose would scrunch and wrinkle when she was disgusted with something insignificant and minute; you miss kissing her in the middle of arguments and watching her easily melt underneath your touch; but you mostly miss hearing her complain about your lack of etiquette, about how odd she finds your views on the world, and about how you see her more clearly than anyone else on the island.

that sort of vulnerability terrifies her, and it’s why she’s been so miserable without you.

her sisters pay you a visit one morning and implore you to talk some sense into hancock. they tell you about how her temper tantrums have gotten uncontrollable (even for them) and how she barely eats or bothers leaving the palace these days. that bit surprises you, as hancock thrives off the validation from the populace. at first you mean to refuse them, but when you take note of how marigold anxiously fidgets with the gold bracelet around her wrist and the way sandersonia has dark circles under her eyes, you give in.

after taking a long, long soak in the bath, hancock pads back to her room naked, deciding to keep the windows open so she can air dry properly. you find her shortly after, out of breath from running over to the palace; she didn’t lock her door — and why should she? she’s the empress, after all — so you enter her room with ease. because she’s been so out of it lately, she’s been sluggish in her reactions to certain things; especially since she hasn’t stopped thinking about you.

with the door shut and locked behind you, hancock’s mind clears a bit; she blinks slowly, her dark eyes honed on you, taking in your thick thighs and toned body. as usual, hancock’s face only features an impassive expression, and she keeps her tone flat when she addresses you.

“why the hell are you in my bedroom?” she grabs the silk robe that’s draped over her mattress and puts it on in a rush.

before you can answer her or move closer, she picks up a large pillow and chucks it at you in the hopes that you’ll get the hint and leave her alone. you sidestep the attack, lips pressed together as you hold back a laugh; she can’t honestly think that a pillow will stop you, can she? hancock keeps throwing things, anything within her reach that isn’t nailed down to the floor or wall. you try to reason with her, try to make your way closer, but stop when you see the way her lips quiver.

she keeps fumbling with tying her robe properly, keeps looking down at her trembling fingers — the same ones that have tugged on your hair more times than you can count — but still she won’t say anything else to you.

after a minute, hancock manages to compose herself once again, her lips pressed tightly together as she fights the urge to berate herself for looking weak in front of you — as if you care about any of that. your silence compels her to swiftly make her way towards you, long legs shimmering in the sunlight, captivating you so much that you forget you’re supposed to be angry with her.

“look at you,” she stands tall, her pride giving her the confidence she needs to verbally tear you apart. “you’ve come begging for my forgiveness, right?” she doesn’t wait for you to respond and simply flips her hair over her shoulder before continuing. it’s all she can do to keep her composure around you; she knows if she gives you even a fraction of an inch, you’ll take a whole damn mile. “i should have you gutted for entering the palace without permission. you should know your damn place.” while her words are harsh, her delivery doesn’t quite match the expression on her face. maybe it’s because you haven’t taken your eyes off of her since you entered her room; or, maybe it’s because she’s standing much closer than necessary but can’t physically move herself away.

did you cast a spell on her without her knowledge?

while her eyes do narrow at that possibility, she highly doubts that you could, as there’s no one on amazon lily that doesn’t succumb to her treacherous beauty. but you continue to defy her expectations and you never know when to quit. which is why she just wants to grab you by the neck and toss you out the window; maybe if she actually kills you this time, she’ll be done with you forever.

except, she could never bring herself to harm you — not really. so she continues with her rant, reminding you that you’re beneath her, that you should be happy someone like her gave you any attention at all, but the more she talks, the more you want her to just shut the hell up.

“you’re right,” you say, cutting her off without remorse or any regards for your own safety, “and i deserve all of that,” and possibly more, but you don’t add that bit in. it becomes a little difficult to focus, what with hancock watching you with a different kind of intensity than you’re used to. “i… should’ve just explained myself properly before. but, more importantly,” you decide to take a risk and gently grab her by the hips.

silence wraps around her, blending into her thoughts, warping her perception of everything that’s happening. your hand is warm — much too warm, hot almost; she can feel the heat through the flimsy fabric as she presses her body closer to yours. whatever it is you want to tell her doesn’t matter — maybe she’ll pester you about it all later, but right now all she wants is you.

so, you give in and allow yourself to be more selfish than usual.

when your lips brush against hers, she completely comes alive — the longing you both felt for weeks, the irritation and unsaid words, they all prompt her to wrap her arms around your neck. it’s something short of a loving embrace, but you know better. your kiss goes from slow and tender to something much more fevered and enthusiastic; her lips are soft and supple, wholly inviting and terribly mesmerizing. you back her against the wall as she threads her fingers through your hair, tugging on it roughly, her patience practically nonexistent from all her wanting. you laugh at her in between kisses, breath warm against her skin — a feat that simultaneously annoys and arouses her — and remind her to play nice.

when she tugs on your hair again, you bite her bottom lip hard enough to draw blood, but run your tongue along the miniature wound to soothe the sting. she inhales sharply, the pain not noticeable, but the way you suck on her lip makes her head spin while also leaving her breathless.

a woman like hancock doesn’t beg, but when you grab her ass roughly — aggressive, yet completely undoing — she lets out a whimper so pathetic she’s almost ashamed of herself.

she should slap you, but all she does is roll her hips forward once you spread her legs and run your fingers against her folds. in a fit of desperation, to excuse her reactions, she tells herself that it’s because she hasn’t been touched in so long — but deep down she knows the truth; she knows it’s because there’s no one else she’d rather have here with her, and that is a terrifying revelation. still, she’s very receptive to your touch, her back arching as soon as you spread her with your fingers.

her arousal drips down slowly, and while you’d love to take your time with her, you also know that if you don’t hurry up you might actually lose your mind. you trail kisses down the length of her neck, and hancock presses her lips together to keep from making any more embarrassing noises. it’s ridiculous the way her body can easily be commanded by you without much effort; she wants to hate you for leading her down this path, but she can’t ever bring herself to do so.

love makes people incredibly foolish and tender indeed.

“that won’t do,” you remark lightly, gliding your fingers back and forth, barely grazing her clit. her breathing stops momentarily when you open her robe completely and drop to your knees in front of her. “why are you holding back?” you don’t ask her because you actually want the answer; you ask because you know it’ll annoy her greatly.

you tease her entrance with your fingers and a shiver fires through her entire body; with her lips parted, you strain your ears a bit, but you hear through her all of her light panting, her softly saying please, please, please. she’s trying so hard to hold it together, and you commend her for her efforts by inching your fingers inside of her slowly. hancock’s façade finally shatters, and you hear her moan audibly as you plunge your fingers in and out of her pussy. you love the way she clenches around your fingers — warm and tight, soft in a way that just doesn’t make sense to you — and the way she moves her hips once your tongue playfully swirls around her clit.

you drape her long, shapely leg over your shoulder and scissor your fingers inside of her pussy; you hum against her skin, thoroughly enjoying the way her chest heaves and how she can’t seem to stop moaning your name.

if only she was always this compliant.

a heat passes through your body as her nails rake against your scalp, and if you weren’t so hellbent keeping her steady, she’d probably fall over by now. you eat her pussy with vigor, swapping your fingers for your tongue; you thrust it inside without remorse, and she quickly becomes a whimpering mess as she chants “yes, yes, yes.” you mean to tell her to keep it down, but a part of you also enjoys it when she lets go and gives into her desires. you don’t want to get caught, but the thrill of it incites you to lap at her pussy — greedy and eager, as if it’s the most savory meal you’ve ever had. her wetness drips down your chin, glistening along your lips but you don’t stop.

she watches you in a trance, unsure if she’ll ever be able to let you go after this. possessive by nature, hancock never thought she’d find herself in this sort of position, but there she is, completely under your spell. every swipe of your tongue brings her closer and closer to the edge — a dangerous dance that she does without thinking. she brings her free hand to cup and knead one of her breasts — hefty and round, moaning repeatedly, voice already straining as she shamelessly rides your face.

you love it, though and when you suck on her clit roughly, lightning wraps around her veins, time slowing down around her, causing her vision to blur. she’s so wound up, that the orgasm takes her completely by surprise — her hips buck wildly and you hold her firmly as you work your fingers back into her pussy. you pull away just to give her a haughty look — one that she catches by accident through her tear-stained lashes — voice low and husky as you continue teasing her. “you’re doing so good,” you lick her clit hard enough to have her eyes roll back, “do you trust me?”

it's not fair of you to ask her genuine questions right now, but you need to know.

hancock swallows hard, unable to think properly, but answers without hesitation: “y-yes.”

her voice is sweet, much more demure than you’re used to; your heart suddenly feels much too big for your chest, the beats growing louder and thunderous; a dangerous combination when coupled with your cowardice. but you know better than to cower away, so you muster the courage to quietly respond with, “good, i’m glad.”

you’re not sure why you ask her that, but you keep thinking about it when you have her naked on her bed with her hands bound above her. thanks to you, her normally blemish-free skin is littered with bite marks and dark red bruises — small and harmless, but you do feel a sliver of remorse when you realize she’ll have to cover herself up for a bit when she’s outside of the palace. you tell her she’s a masterpiece worthy of exhibition, and she tells you that you’re insolent for stating the obvious.

she’s so beautiful and vulnerable in this position — flushed cheeks, tears in her eyes, legs shaking as they’re spread wide for you; her pussy is swollen after you slapped it a few times when she gave you lip a few minutes ago. out of habit, hancock wants to run her mouth again when you hover over her, but her words never come out. she looks up at you, silently wondering why you keep coming back to her. the melancholy that accompanies those thoughts is heavy enough to make her want to cry, so she ignores it. she wraps her legs around you as you rock your hips against hers, cunt still dripping — eager and inviting.

fucking hancock is like being trapped in a feverish dream, one where you fall over and over, unable to predict if you’ll survive in the end. it’s an unending maelstrom — powerful and unpredictable, wild, and all-consuming. sweat pools at your temples, but you don’t slow down until you wrench another orgasm out of her. her voice grows hoarse, and she claws at your chest; you lick the tears off her cheeks and kiss her in a way that deludes her into thinking that she’s your one and only.

when you finally cum, it’s with her name on your lips. your hips stutter and your breath is uneven — for you, your pleasure comes mostly from watching her unravel underneath you. hancock never lets you stay over, but she’s surprisingly soft with you afterwards, even letting you run your fingers through her silky, ink-black hair.

the intimacy scares both of you, but you can’t stop yourself from touching her like that. and even though you’re both sticky and sweaty, skin burning in a way that doesn’t make sense, you still stay close to one another.

she opens her mouth several times, the compulsion to curse you out for driving her mad grows weaker as time passes. she watches you fall asleep and she admires your features without restraint. she refuses to tell you that you’re much more attractive than she’d like you to be; she’d rather you be hideous with a shitty personality, but that’s not the case, is it? she’s hopelessly enamored with you, and you with her.

nothing will ever be perfect between the two of you, but you don’t need perfection or superficiality — not with her; you like dealing with the true, raw version of herself. there will be a moment — not now, but in the near future — where you’ll be brave enough to finish your confession; but for now, you keep it to yourself, tucked safely away in your heart, and enjoy the way your limbs are tangled with hers.

#*cries softly*#i am finished!!! finally #fic request #500+ followers event #milestone event #🍭✨🍨sticky & sweet event🧁✨🍭#one piece smut #one piece angst #one piece x reader #one piece x y/n #boa hancock #boa hancock x reader #boa hancock x y/n #boa hancock smut #hancock x reader #hancock x y/n #one piece imagine

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ryethebrokengae · 10 months

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Just thinking about Price walking into the base kitchen in the middle of the night to find you{Trans masc, post T and top chop reader} dancing to Closer by NIN[This shits gonna be nasty, enjoy]:

You were making yourself a snack, not being able to sleep. You put on your play list while moving around the kitchen to gather the things needed to make yourself pancakes.

One of your favorite songs, Closer by nine inch nails, came on and you started moving your head to the beat.

Once the first verse came on you started moving the rest of your body with the music.

'You let me violate you,

You let me desecrate you,

You let me penetrate you,

You let me complicate you'

You move your hips to it, spinning around while putting together the dry ingredients. While jamming out you didn't notice Price leaning against the door jam to watch you.

'(Help me) I broke apart my insides,

(Help me) I've got no soul to sell

(Help me) the only thing that works for me

Help me get away from myself'

You mix the wet ingredients into the bowl while head banging to the beat. Mouthing along with the words, twisting your torso in time with the words.

Unknowingly giving Price a great show of your ass.

'I wanna fuck you like an animal,

I wanna feel you from the inside,

I wanna fuck you like an animal,

My whole existence is flawed,

You get me closer to god'

Once the song gets to the chorus you're full on dancing. Head banging with your eyes closed, spinning in a slow circle while you roll your hips back and forth. Left hip moving back while the right one moves forward.

'You can have my isolation'

You suddenly feel Price's hands on your hips while you're turned to face the counter again. Suddenly stopping your dancing.

'You can have the hate that it brings'

You feel Price's lips on your neck, kissing you slowly. Whispering into your skin.

"Don't let me stop you."

'You can have my absence of faith'

You grin to yourself, resuming the motions of your hips. Now purposely rolling your ass back into his hips. Feeling him almost growl into your neck. His hold on your hips tightening, but not restricting your movement.

'You can have my everything'

Price suddenly shoves your torso to be pressed to the counter. Impatiently pushing away the ingredients you had laid out.

You let out a small squeak at his shove, teasingly shaking your ass against him.

'(Help me) tear down my reason,

(Help me) it's your sex I can smell,

(Help me) you make me perfect,

Help me become somebody else'

Price leans over you, nipping at your neck. A rumble coming from his chest in warning.

His fingers hooking in the waist band of your sweat pants, pulling them just past your ass.

Price let's out a groan at seeing you're not wearing any boxers. Running his thumb along the very inside of your thigh, enamored by how wet you are already.

"Fuckin' hell, Sargent." He whispers out, quickly shoving a single finger down to the third knuckle inside of you.

'I wanna fuck you like an animal'

You let out a yelp at the sudden intrusion. Quickly recovering from the surprise. Pressing yourself further against him. Head landing on your arms resting on the counter. You let out a loud moan.

'I wanna feel you from the inside'

Price hooks his finger inside of you, feeling your walls until he brushes against your g-spot. Causing you to buck your hips back, releasing a pathetic moan.

Price is barely hanging onto his self control. Quickly removing his finger from you. Shushing the whine that leaves your lips. Unbuckling his pants, and pushing his boxers down just enough to let his cock slap against his stomach. Resting the hard length on your ass, rubbing the underside along your pussy. Collecting your wetness.

'I wanna fuck you like an animal'

You feel Price pull back slightly, the weight of his hard cock no longer resting on you.

When you feel the tip of him pressed against the entrance to your cunt. Pushing himself forward until just the tip is in.

You let out a loud whine at the stretch, hips twitching down. Unconsciously rolling your hips down.

You hear Price groan in unison with your whine. Hand running along your spine, pushing your shirt up with it. Fingers pressing into your skin, short nails gently scraping your skin.

'My whole existence is flawed,

You get me closer to god'

At the end of the second chorus Price thrusts forward, filling you completely. His head falls back, panting slightly.

Your hands in the counter grasping, trying to find anything to hold onto. Panting harshly, cunt clenching around him once. Causing him to thrust forward again, pulling a small scream from you.

As the instrumental portion of the song plays Price pulls back and starts a good, harsh pace of fucking into you. Hands on your hips, gripping so hard you can nearly feel the bruises forming already.

Every few thrusts a whiney moan falls out of your mouth, face hidden in your arms. Price tut's behind you, grabbing your hair.

'Through every forest'

"I don't think so." He pulls your head back, forcing you to arch your back.

You moan loudly, clenching around his cock once more.

'Above the trees,

Within my stomach,

Scraped off my knees'

You hear a restrained groan fall from Price's lips. Thrusting forward harshly three more times, before you feel him start to fill you.

'I drink the honey'

You can feel the sheen of sweat cool on your skin. Clenching around him again purposefully.

He lets out a strangled moan, grip on your hips tightening.

"S-stop that" The Captain grunts out.

'Inside your hive'

You feel Price lean back, pulling out of you slowly. You let out a whine at the sensitivity. Pussy clenching unconsciously once he's fully pulled out. Causing drops of him to leak out of you, slowly dripping down the inside of your thigh.

'You are the reason'

Price chuckles breathlessly, squeezing your ass once last time before gently pulling your sweatpants back up over your hips. Cum most definitely staining the crotch of them.

You hear Price put himself back in his boxers. Before rebuckling his pants, while you catch your breath. He rubs your back through your shirt, leaning forwards to press a kiss to the back of your neck.

'I stay alive'

"Looks like you're gonna need new pancake mix." He whispers into your ear.

You turn your head to find you had spilled all of your pancake mix on the counter during your 'activities'. Somehow only getting a few drops on your skin.

You groan in frustration, dropping your head onto the counter again.

Price chuckles. Rubbing your back again, before you no longer feel him behind you. Peaking your eyes open you see Price grabbing paper towels to wipe up the mess.

You push yourself off of the counter to help him clean up. But he tut's at you, shaking his head.

"No no, you just sit there for me. I've got this." He says, picking you up to sit you on the counter. Pressing a sweet kiss to your cheek.

You feel yourself flush watching your Captain clean up spilt batter, then re-gathering the ingredients to make a new batch. His eyes moving from the task at hand and back to you all the while.

&A/n: I'm still working on the Simon Riley smut, but I thought of this in the middle of the night while I was making myself a pancake XD.

And pretend the song isn't just 6 minutes lmaooo

#captain john price #john price smut #john price x reader #john price #captain price #captain john price smut #captain price smut #captain price x reader smut

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