dix0nspretty

[dix0nspretty]

blunt!simon!riley during your honeymoon

cw: dubiously consensual language / power imbalance, breeding kink / pregnancy kink, possessive + degrading language, obsession + ownership themes, implied somnophilia (waking you up with sex) marking, bruising, overstimulation, territorial behavior / isolation kink, objectification

a/n: divider by @bernardsbendystraws

he doesn’t take you to a beach. no cute sandals, no cocktails. he takes you to a cabin in the woods with no cell service and blackout curtains.

“honeymoon’s for makin’ sure it sticks.”

you don’t leave the bed for days.

you’re wearing nothing but his t-shirt and your wedding ring. your thighs are sore. your voice is gone. you’re leaking everywhere, and he won’t stop pressing his palm to your belly like he’s checking.

“doesn’t feel full enough. think i need to try again.”

he eats you out in the kitchen. fucks you over the balcony railing. carries you from room to room like a doll. he lets you nap only so he can wake you up by slipping in slow and whispering:

“’s your honeymoon, sweetheart. you want me to take care of you, yeah?”

you lose track of how many times he finishes inside you.

and he keeps whispering that same promise into your ear, every time your belly tenses up or your breath catches or your thighs shake:

“gonna give you a belly, yeah? a bump. little ring on your finger and a fuckin’ baby in you. real wife now.”

[dix0nspretty]

Gorgeous SAS man’s voice and the fucking muscle memory in his movements…

even the instructor forgot how to speak

[dix0nspretty]

He’s so baby, I adore him

Airing Simon Riley

He’s such a baby. And he can’t text.

Simon isn’t really big on texts. The occasional love heart sent your way between clashes while he’s deployed. When he’s home, a funny video or two. Perhaps a cheeky sext when you’re working late.

You always message him though. Thoughtfully thinking of little ways to brighten his day, a photo of a pansy with little patterned black and white leaves turning to the sun, or a picture of your coffee shared with the hope he’ll be home soon.

Does Simon relish the thought of your virtual offerings? Probably not. But still, you miss him. Even a picture of you in your nicest bra and panties might only get a cursory “I’ll take em off with my teeth later…” if he’s feeling frisky.

It’s fine. Really it is. Until the inside of your lip is chewed and anxiety starts to gather in the seams of your mind. One of your friends tells you it’s odd he has no social media, that it’s a red flag his digital footprint is bathed in shadows and secrets. No school reunion photos, or any evidence he exists at all.

But you suffer in silence. Until one day, you don’t text him good morning, or goodnight. The day spans silently between you both, quietly confirming that nagging doubt that he really isn’t interested in the cat that sometimes visits the entryway of your apartment.

Strange how that lack of something can be so loud. It echos, rings in all the corners of your psyche that wanted to be reassured. Only when you’re deep within the cave of isolation, do you realise how honestly you miss the light of the sun.

Two days pass. A full bloody moon rises and begins to blink across your living room, before you hear the slam of the front door. It makes you jump, twitching in your skin as though you’re suddenly uncomfortable in it. A heavy bag is deposited somewhere on the floor, while the metal on it twinkles innocently in the low light.

One heavy boot step, then another.

“Hi!” You smile at him softly.

Simon just glares at you, dark brown eyes seething pits. Two thick arms get crossed over his chest, the greyscale, faded ink under his skin bristling. His hair is tousled, the usual buzz cut a little grown out. Shadows wedged beneath hollowed sockets reminiscent of things that weigh heavily, more than one lifetimes worth of grief to bear.

“I didn’t expect you this early…” Trying again seems logical, even though the sternness in his face should raise alarm. Simon lets out a short chuffing nose, rolling his shoulders along with those ash framed, whiskey coloured irises.

Blinking at him, you wait.

“There’s dinner in the—”

“Is it over?” He rasps, quietly before you can finish. You notice then that he’s paler than usual, his freckles dotted against milky skin.

“Huh?! Is what over?” Perplexed, your mouth opens with a pop.

“Us - this.” Simon gestures between you jerkily, heavyset and blunted fingers that could eclipse yours shaking slightly. “This your way of finishin with me?”

You’re so shocked, for a second all you can do is look blank. Simon sniffs like he’s holding himself together with brute force and clenched teeth. His hand falls to his side limply, jaw working as though chewing something intensely unpleasant.

“You didn’t text me.” He grunts finally, when you’ve caught a few flies through sheer incredulity. “Two days I ain’t had a peep. Not of the cat or nothin. Expected a fucking dear John letter left on the kitchen counter.”

He actually scuffs his boots on the floor restlessly, a little boy about to throw an almighty tantrum. Usually he’s so restrained, operating under a fine layer of almost icy disregard. His bottom lip pouts and the wild urge to giggle makes you clench your own teeth.

“You like my cat pictures?!” It’s about the only thing you can manage to leverage off your tongue.

“Yeah I do actually.”

“Oh, I didn’t realise…”

“Like anythin you send me. Specially tha voice notes n’ videos.” Finally the truth starts to unravel, while you both gaze at one another. “Have I fucked up? Why ain’t you been talkin to me?”

“Well…I wasn’t sure if you even read them to be honest! Also it gets boring having a one sided conversation sometimes Simon!” Defensiveness leeches into your tone, while he tilts his head, the scar slicing through his upper lip drawn tight.

“Alright. What do I have to reply then?”

“Pardon?”

“What do I have to reply to get you to send more?” Earnestly he stares at you, and the desire to laugh madly starts to make your throat hurt.

“Are you being serious?!”

“Deadly.” He replies without hesitation.

“You don’t have to reply! But just a thumbs up emoji would do fine.”

“How do I do tha?” He frowns at you, brows knitting in the middle. “Send ya a photo or somethin of my hand?”

You can’t hold it in anymore, a snort of laughter escapes and bubbles in the air. Once that’s out, several more follow, until he looks entirely hurt at the sound of it.

“Don’t fuckin laugh. M’all pent up. Been worried sick about it.”

“Oh my fucking god Simon come here!”

He doesn’t even take off his boots, crawling into your lap on the couch, resting his head on your chest like a huge, black clad weighted blanket.

“I wouldn’t leave you a letter on the kitchen counter.” You tell him gently, while his breathing regulates. “I’d FaceTime you at least before I posted my key through the letterbox.”

“S’not funny.” He mumbles and gradually your laughter subsides.

“Don’t ever think I ain’t interested in you. S’been shite wakin up without your messages.”

“I’m sorry! You can have all the cat pictures you want going forwards!”

“Slip a few of you in ya knickers in too, ta?”

[dix0nspretty]

sometimes you do forget that the general population doesn't necessarily find a guy cumming prematurely in his pants hot

[dix0nspretty]

I can be so Normal

control pt ii | simon "ghost" riley

cw. pet play, age gap, needy! reader, teasing, dumbification, established relationship

synopsis. you remind simon a lot of an untamed puppy in need of self-control

masterlist

this is a continuation. pt i will be linked here!

the second you finish gulping down his cum, you leap back into his lap, eager to be rewarded for your hard work. you wriggle in place eagerly, dragging your soaked pussy over his now half hard cock that's glistening and oversensitive. you don't even care how you just had an orgasm and that you're sensitive, you want him inside now.

"si- please fuck me, please," you beg, voice cracking. "i was so good! didn't you see? i earned it!"

he sighs at your constant yipping at him and his hands land on your waist, not to pull you down but to hold you off. you freeze, big, glassy eyes blinking dumbly at him. you try to roll your hips, but he holds you so tightly that you can't. you're immediately upset, and that sentiment grows tenfold when he lifts you up off him to tuck his cock back into his pants, zipping them up and looking over to see your distraught little face.

"what?" you stammer, trying to reach for his belt again. "no, no, no! what're you doing?"

"oh, you want more cock?" he drawls, leaning back casually on the couch. "now that you've had a taste?"

"i was good!" you repeat, face scrunched, clawing at his thick thighs. "i drank it! i showed you-"

"you were sloppy," he says calmly. "and outta control. not the good pup i trained you to be."

you whine, attempting to grind down on him again, but he blocks your hips with both hands once more, squeezing firmly.  "no more rutting. my cock's away now, pup. y'missed your window."

you whine, lips curled in a pout. he swears if you had puppy ears, they'd be pinned back in agitation. your tail would be limp at your side.

simon laughs at you, tilting his head. "poor little pup. all that effort, and still no cock in ya." he grins, getting a sick pleasure out of your agony. "maybe if you beg some more i'll let you rub your sloppy pussy on one of y'pillows."

you whine, not able to handle the teasing right now. you're having a full meltdown, cheeks wet, thighs sticky, but you don't care. you just want cock.  "simon please, you said, you said i could have it! why're you lying to me?"

"you're so fucking spoiled," he mutters. "it's pathetic." he reaches up to grip the nape of his neck and makes you look at him. "do you even know what you're saying? you're begging for cock like it's oxygen. like your little cunt can't go a single day without getting stuffed full."

without waiting for you to respond, he reaches one hand down to press his hand into the mess between your thighs. you squeal, hips jolting up like you've been electrocuted, grinding down immediately on his palm. he slips two fingers into your panties. "damn," he mutters. "you are soaked."

simon leans in closer to you, lips nudging yours but not applying pressure. he swallows up your moans when he curls his fingers inside you, just resting inside so you can take the stretch of his thick digits. when you do, he rewards you with a soft, mocking kiss to the corner of your lips, not a long, deep one like you want. "you're just so stupid, puppy." he whispers, "so fucking dumb for my prick, y'can't even think straight."

he pumps his fingers in you, curling and twisting and burrowing them inside your sensitive pussy knuckle deep, then pulling out just to the tips of his fingers and uses them to push down on your gummy walls.

"oh fuck, simon-" you keen, thrashing as he begins to lay you on the couch, flipping you onto your tummy, purposefully forbidding you from looking at him, he scissors his fingers inside you from behind while your face is stuffed into the cushions, hips twitching and moans leaving your mouth. then suddenly he tugs his fingers out of you just as you feel yourself getting close to cumming again. "no!"

you're about to complain some more, loudly and with lots of whining, until he mutters, "easy, pup. 'm givin' ya your treat." then unzips his jeans and shuffles them down once more, pushing his boxers down along with them so his fat cock bobs up and slaps his tummy.

again, his cock is fat and swollen up from arousal, even though he came just a few minutes ago. you lift your ass in the air, presenting for him like a good puppy. you're shameless, excited to feel the delicious stretch of his tip notching into your hole, pushing past your plush walls and filling you to the hilt, but instead... all he does is slap it against your cunt.

you jolt out of shock, clit pulsing from the contact. your slick coats the head of his cock after it hit your dripping folds. you lean back, trying to chase his dick and get him to put it in you, but his hand presses you against the couch, stern and unforgiving.

"down." he orders firmly.

he drags the head of his cock along your slit again, slow, lazy. you gasp, thighs trying to close around him, but he knocks them apart and slaps his tip against you again.

you yelp, body jumping forward as again, you weren't anticipating the move. "please," you gasp. "please, just put it in, si" you sob, tears coming down hot and wet down the sides of your face. your whole body's heaving, hands clenching around nothing while your hips rut uselessly, trying to find his.

his cock rests against your cunt, not inside, but pressed flat between your asscheeks and against your holes, heavy and hot. he rocks the heavy shaft up and down, thrusts shallow and slow. he's using you, grinding against your soaked, swollen cunt like he's warming up. dragging the head over your clit and back down to your folds, slapping the head against them and listening to the nasty squelching sounds they make.

"simon! please," you moan loudly. "i can't do this anymore, put it in-"

"quiet," he responds, still dragging it back and forth, head catching on your entrance and then slipping back up, never going in fully.  " 'm givin' ya what you asked for, pup." he pushes just the tip in just enough for you to feel it breach, stretch... and then pulls it right back out.

you're sobbing loudly at this point, while he's painfully nonchalant, voice reduced to heavy puffs of air leaving his lips, or soft whispers of  "mm...fuck" and "shit... so tight,"

he tilts his head, admiring your teary, red cheeks. he way you're begging with snot leaking from your nose and your face blotchy with tears. then, finally, he pushes the head of his cock to your soaked, swollen entrance, the heat of his throbbing cock making your cunt drool. slowly, he presses inside, stretching you open steadily, and to your relief, he doesn't stop at the tip.

your whole body arches, hands squeezing into fists as he slides in inch by inch. his cock is so thick that your walls stretch to take him in and flutter around his girth. when he's just barely halfway in, you mewl, scrambling up onto your hands and knees before he can push you down, and you flip onto your back.

your thighs snap shut behind him like a trap, ankles hooking at the small of his back, heels digging in so he can't pull away, so he can't tease you anymore. he'd slipped out a little during your flip, but you'd ensure to grab his length and put him back inside you, moaning loudly. "oh simon!"

simon pauses and looks down at you, panting and groaning at the new angle and the way he can now see your face in all it's entirety. "haa fuckin' hell, you are done bein' teased, huh?" he grins, leaning over you, planting a hand by your head. "little pup finally grew a spine."

you nod frantically, nails digging into his shoulders. "stay, simon. stay, stay, stay-"

he leans down closer to you. "alright, alright," he says, giving you a peck on the lips. "silly lil' mutt." and then he pushes all the way in all at once.

your mouth drops open and your whole body seizes. the moment he bottoms out and his thick cock finally fills you, hitting that deep spot and stretches you completely open, you gush around him. with no warning, you release on his cock just from him filling you all the way. the teasing must've triggered the hell out of you. you sob, pussy squeezing around him in tight pulses. you swear your vision goes sparkly for a second.

"oh, fuck me." simon groans, feeling you clamp down on his cock and squeeze your plush walls around him. "you just came? from that?"

you nod. you're drooling a little, still super floaty from cumming for the second time already and creating a wet mess between the two of you where his cock enters you. you've soaked his pelvis with your juices. "it's your cock," you whisper,  "i needed it so bad, simon, i told you i needed it."

he pants, hips grinding deeper as he grinds his tip into your gummy insides. "bloody hell, puppy." he tuts. "one stroke and you lose your fuckin' mind."

even as you're shaking and crying from how hard you just came, you're still clinging to him, nails dragging down his back. your body won't stop trembling and curling in on itself like you're trying to escape but there's nowhere to go. you're too full.

simon's fucking you so slow with cruel, lazy thrusts. he drags his cock out of you achingly deep and slow. then, he presses back inside just as slow, letting you feel every ridge, vein, and thick inch of him all over again. "simon!" you gasp, voice cracking, pitifully. "i can't, i can't, it's too much,"

he braces one arm beside your head and reaches out to grab your thigh with his other hand, spreading you open further and pushing your knee up to your chest, fingers bruising into your skin where he holds you wide for him. "you're takin' it jus' fine. look at you, y' pussy's fuckin' gripping me."

you clench around him each time he pulls back and then slide his cock back inside. every time he sinks inside you to the hilt, you cry out, lips parting with messy, high pitched moans leaving your mouth. simon reckons you sound like you're in a porn video.

every slow thrust hits deep inside you, messy cunt stretched wide around him, walls swollen and slick, the squelch of each slow thrust. if you had the brainpower to feel embarrassed right now, you'd feel a little shy at the way he's cooing down at you and mimicking your mewls, or the sound of his cock shoving into your soaked hole. but you don't have any intelligence left at this point, too focused on the relief of finally having him inside, while also wanting him to go harder and faster.

"si, I feel full," you babble, "can't…can't take it but- mmh! i need it, i need more, please, simon, i want more!"

he snorts and fucks into you with a particularly rough stroke that lands his tip right against your cervix, tip kissing the deepest part inside you. "which -haa, fuuuck- do you want, pup? more or less? do you even know what you're asking for?"

"i dunno," you slur, reaching for his face. "please don't stop!"

he huffs a laugh, nuzzling his nose against your jaw. his lips move over to your ear, and he whispers to you. "be my good little pup and lay there and take your cock."

you whine, nodding, babbling again. "i love it! i love your cock, i love it, i love it, i love you!"

"fuck, i love y'too, dumb girl. " he groans, hand sliding under your ass to hoist you up. and fuck into you from a new angle. you squeal and flail a little, but he doesn't let up or let you hide, even with how sensitive you are. your thighs are still shaking and your cunt is sore and messy from coming already. despite that, your hips are still twitching, rolling up to meet every one of his deep, pounding thrusts.

he lets out loud, breathy groans. both his huge hands bracket your hips, gripping hard, slamming into you. he grabs both of your wrists and pins them above your head in one hand, holding you down completely. with the other, he reaches between your bodies and presses his palm flat on your belly right where he's deepest, right where you can feel the outline of him inside you.

you scream.

"look at that," he grits. "see how deep i am? feel that?" he fucks into you so hard and fast that your whole body rocks beneath him. the only thing keeping you coherent is the stretch of his cock, the weight of him holding you down and the deep, brutal pace he's set. "you're mine."

you make a weepy moan at the thick drag of his cock inside you, stretching you open, beating your poor cunt into submission. "gonna fuckin'- fuck, pup, i'm gonna cum," he grits out, sweat dripping off his brow down to your cheek.

"inside," you plead. "please! inside me, please fill me up, si!"

he slams into you deeper than you thought possible, your whole body curling into itself as he cums hard. thick seed coming flooding your womb in a ridiculously copious amount. your hands scrabble weakly against his chest, your cunt squeezing around him like you're trying to milk him dry.

he keeps going even as he comes. he stays buried in you, locked tight, grinding deep into you to make sure none of it escapes. he wants every last drop to flood your womb. he only pulls out once he's sure it'll take, then he pulls out.

you sob at the loss, twitching when his cock slips from your stretched, messy hole, leaving you gaping and dripping and ruined. his cum follows, thick and warm and so much of it, spilling out of you in a hot, sticky stream that coats your thighs and the couch cushions below you. as if he didn't make a filthy mess of you, he scoops you up for a bath, pecking your forehead. "such a good puppy."

[dix0nspretty]

I need him, your honor

Alone Time

John Price x F!reader CW: Sexual content, BDSM, consensual restraint, mildly suggestive language.

Your husband, God bless him, doesn’t always know how to deal with you, which, to be fair, is completely valid.

To understand his exasperation with your general aura and personality, you must first understand Johnathan Price. As an SAS captain, he’s had enough danger, excitement, and spontaneity to satiate him for the rest of his life.

This is what had originally attracted you to him, truthfully: how peaceful he made your life. No dramatic arguments, no real issues, actually. Sure, he’s a tad controlling, but it’s nothing overbearing, and truth be told, you never minded giving him that control. It’s no surprise the wedding happened so quickly after meeting; who wouldn’t give up today’s very questionable dating scene in favor of a man who finds whiskey and the newspaper “fascinating”?

Despite what most may consider ‘boring,’ you love your husband and his strange little interests. You think he must feel the same way about you, but in reverse: you’re the woman who barks at men in the pub just to weird them out enough to leave you alone; the woman who puts karaoke on the TV just to make him laugh; the woman who says things like, “How do we feel about me learning the harmonica?” and “What if I turned into a chicken… what would you do?”

He adds peace to your life; you add some much-needed energy to his. Your husband’s ‘boring’ nature, however, does not extend to the bedroom, because thank God, he was neither shocked nor put off when the third brown Amazon box this week showed up to your home.

“What’s that?” he hummed from his spot on his recliner, blowing out a plume of smoke as the words left his lips.

“Straps for the bed,” you said nonchalantly. Any embarrassment you may have once had pertaining to sex left your head a long time ago.

“Good purchase, love.” He chuckled and smiled. You knew that look: he was going to put that to good use. And good use he did. That evening, you two thoroughly tested the restraints, had what was honestly probably some of the best sex of your life, and knocked the fuck out.

The straps, your new favorite toy for the time being, got broken in a few more times in the next few weeks before you both inevitably lost a little interest. Despite the fact they hadn’t been used in over a month now, they still remain attached to your bed. “Just keep ’em there,” John had said. You figured maybe he planned on having one of those days he plays a little rough in the near future and left them. However, you were incredibly deceived.

Because your husband, while he loves your wild nature, also values his alone time, and he found his way to get it.

“Lovie,” John’s voice called from the bedroom. He typically doesn’t have to call more than once; that loud, deep voice could get anyone’s attention. So you made your way up the stairs to your shared bedroom, only to find John standing beside the bed.

“C’mere,” he said, the sound deep in the back of his throat. As you walked up to him, to put your hands on his bare, hairy chest, he lifted you, surprising you a bit, but you definitely were not complaining. You let out a little squeak as he placed you on the bed.

For a moment, your interest was quite piqued when you watched him grab hold of one of the straps to fasten it around your wrist. He hadn’t undressed your clothes, but you figured maybe that was part of the game.

“Oh?”

“Mhm.”

You lay there, waiting patiently as he tightened all four straps. You didn’t speak much, just watched him. However, what was turning into excitement died and turned into confusion as he grabbed the remote to the telly once he’d adequately had your hands cuffed.

“What are you doing?” you asked, raising an eyebrow at him, the confusion visible on your face.

“Bunny rabbit,” he began with a little smirk, a mischievous look on his face that you very rarely see.

“Yes, sir?” you asked, laughing at him just a little bit, more out of amusement or confusion than anything else.

“I have been trying to read that book for three weeks. Do you know why I can’t?” he asked you. His question had no genuine irritation or anger; his words were followed by soft laughs.

“No?” you asked. If you were being honest, you hadn’t even realized he didn’t finish that book yet.

“Well, I can’t concentrate, because you’ve been humming that song nonstop, and I can’t focus… so I’ve come up with a solution. I’m gonna turn on a movie, and you’re gonna stay here until I finish my book.” He smiled. Both you and he knew that if he had just asked you to stop humming, you would’ve. Clearly, this was fun for him. You weren’t in any harm, you weren’t upset, so you decided to go along with it. It’s been forever since you’ve actually sat down and watched a movie anyway.

“Seriously?”

“Dead serious, rabbit.” And so, through your giggles, you watched as he checked the straps, turned on some ’90s movie, and left the room. Actually, you ended up falling asleep in the middle of the movie, but John finished his book.

Only John would think to use the sex toy you bought just to get some alone time.

CoD Masterlist

[dix0nspretty]

when he fucks you, simon's usually just a panter. some grunts might find a way to slip their way out of him but he's gotten adept in keeping quiet, focused on hearing you and your noises and how to make them that much louder–that is, until the first time he fucks you raw.

after that, he's crumbling. trapping you in between the mattress and his heavy-as-a-ton mass of a figure, giving you little to no time to breathe in between the deepest stroke he can manage.

your shoulder is a mess of his sweat and drool as ghost pounds himself into you, groaning and whimpering at how he can feel every single soaking twitch and warm hug of your walls. how you leak and cream out so much your arousal that it mixes with his and splatters between the two of your jerking bodies. his accent slurs into something unintelligible, sounding worse than drunk whenever he speaks, most of his words either thick swears or shaking croaks of your name.

he cries and clutches you and wails so loud that you can no longer hear the thump of the bed against the wall when simon comes, stuffing you with a gushing load he just uses as lube to keep his thrust. completely intoxicated by you, simon can't quit. you just feel too good and he's too wrecked to not indulge.

© 𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐡𝐨𝐞𝐯𝐚

[dix0nspretty]

Forfeit

or: you and Country!Simon get in an argument and he fucks the anger away.

cw: 3.3k wrds, 18+ mdni, smut with little plot, jealous!simon, no use of y/n, married!reader (to Simon), angry sex, p in v, creampie, cunnilingus, pussy pronouns and slaps, back shots, cowgirl, nipple play, exhibitionism (if you squint), outdoor sex, daddy kink (papa/pa), breeding kink, country!simon, lucky!reader.

a/n: forfeit by Kiana Ledé was my inspo

It’s not that your friends were bad, quite the opposite really, they were great and easily welcomed your husband into the group even though he was on the quieter side. They’d come from the city to congratulate you on the marriage since just your two best of friends came to the wedding.

It was your friend, Vee, her boyfriend that didn’t know his fucking place.

He saw the way you looked at Simon, all heart eyed and yearning for his approval. And Simon’s pretty seafoam orbs would dance all over you, to your pretty face, to your lips to your chest and back to your dark mocha eyes and pretty skin, give you a smile under his skull bandana that no one would understand but you. And Simon would just know you were blushing because you’d look away with smiling harder than ever, squeezing his arm as you continued conversation with your friends—

God, Simon was in love with you. Could’ve done anything for you.

Would’ve beat the breaks off your friends boyfriend if he was alone for a second.

It couldn’t be more obvious that you were a happily married and taken woman. But that stupid bastard couldn’t keep his eyes up, continued to ask about you brushing off Simon, and to top it off you were acting like it wasn’t happening. Still entertaining conversation with him, laughing— giggling.

“Where did you two meet? I’m suprised a city girl like you would move so far just to live in the country.” The fool asked in the middle of conversation, cutting you off from talking about some story from college.

Strike two.

“O-Oh, we’ve known each other since we were younger—“

“—We fucked like dogs right in that old barn when we re-introduced ourselves though.” Simon doesn’t miss a beat. He’s not really one for white lies and he doesn’t care if the truth hurts.

He’ll be as crass as he wants to prove a point. Your friend’s boyfriend, the idiot, was staring too hard. Simon doesn’t mind when people looked, you were as pretty as rain. Curves nice as ever, that jaw dropping smile, pretty brown eyes and curls he loved to play with no matter how long or short. His drop dead gorgeous baby, married to him in the backwoods. Heavy on his.

Heat rushed through your whole body, embarrassment, while your friends squealed in excitement. Your friend Shauna teased, “[+], I didn’t know you were such a naughty girl.”

You washed it down with a sip of wine though, a playful smack to your husbands shoulder— a warning— “Nothins wrong with a little fun. Right Simon?” You emphasized his name. The first time you’d said it all night.

Five and a half times in that barn, but who’s counting?

The wild man gave a cheeky grin, “Course Darlin.”

More squeals from your friends, they thought Simon was right out of a movie. A dream man. He was.

Not when he was acting territorial.

When dinner finally rolled around Vee’s boyfriend, Samuel hate this whore, offered to help. It was the touching that was an issue. The sly touch to your back when he was moving around you, how he kept trying to brush fingers and you’d jerk your hand away— he’d knock the poor boys head off. Simon swooped in of course, told Samuel it’d be best if he sat, ‘let the man ‘f the house handle it’ while wrapping his arm around your waist and tugging you a little closer as you held the baked duck in your hands.

strike fucking three.

Thankfully, everyone was tired after their long plane ride down and the wonderful dinner you prepared. You sent them off with a tight smiles and big waves, yelling how you couldn't wait till tomorrow to show them around.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ 🍀 ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

Simply put, Simon never liked arguing inside the house.

Didn’t matter if it was cold or raining outside. He’d rather take it on that porch. Get out everything that needed to be said, even if he was giving you a spanking— he didn’t want that energy festering inside the house. Apologizing could be done there or in the house but don’t hold a grudge.

Ever since he’d been with you, the house was truly the definition of one of those wall decorations that said, ‘home sweet home.’ Peaceful, loving, quiet. The method Simon had you two so hung up on, worked.

Any anger or irritation got left at the door. You’re mad? Go for a walk or figure it out on the porch.

You’ve really only had a few arguments since your short time together, little things and could be resolved before they could even begin erupting. Nothing like this, that had you scrapping food off dishes to harshly and putting them in the dish water and washing the poor dishes so roughly.

Simon leaned against the counter, arms crossed over his chest, eyebrow raised, bandana that once covered his face sitting on the counter.

“You gonna break the dishes if you keep doin it like that.”

You mumbled, shaking your head, completely incoherent, “Fuck off.”

“What’d you say?”

“I said, fuck off!” you yelled, placing the dish in your hand ever so gently on the drying wrack.

You laugh, nothing but sarcastic, “Why did you have to talk to him like that, huh? He was being friendly! Everyone was havin a good time!”

“Did you not see the way he was talking ‘nd ogling his damn eyes at you the whole night? Son of a bitch acted like he wasn’t looking at a married woman!” Simon scuffed.

“He was not!”

“[+] you can’t be fuckin—“ The older man cuts himself off. Takes in a deep breath— get to that porch. He grits, “Come on, let’s talk.”

You know exactly what he means, you know he really isn’t asking. But you’re unmoving, simply continue the rest of the dishes in the sink.

“No.”

“What?”

“I said, no! How many times do I gotta fuckin repeat myself tonight?! I don’t wanna do your talkin on the porch shit! I wanna finish the damn dishes and go to sleep on my side of the bed! You listen to everybody but me! Your fuckin wife--“ Simon doesn’t let you finish, just manages to get you over his shoulder. The utensils you had in your hand clanging to the floor as you slap at his back, shouting and thrashing to get out his arms.

You land on your feet when Simon puts you down on that hard wood of the wrap around porch. You shove at his chest, “You think you can just move me as you fuckin please, Riley!? I’m a person! A human being!”

“A human bein, I’ll move again if I fuckin want to till you fuckin get it in your big ass head-“

“—I do not!—“

“—You’re big ass head,” he repeated, “that, that idiot was fuckin flirtin with you! Lookin at you like a meal on a silver platter, kept tryin to touch up on you with his own damn girlfriend sitting next to ‘em! And ya went ‘nd encouraged-“

“—Don’t fuckin lie Simon! I would never encourage anyone to- to flirt with me! And the whole night I was lookin at you! Could barely get a handle on myself because I’m hung up on the likes of you!” You poked at his chest. He knew you were right, you’d never do anything like that, not even if the thought graced your mind.

You were a gorgeous little thang, any man with working or non working eyes would fawn over you just from your kindness alone, your pretty voice too. But for someone to do it so blatantly. Do it while Simon was right there. Oh, he hated it.

“Just fuckin admit it, you’re fuckin jealous! I don’t why you wanna pick a fight with me when you should be mad at your damn self for acting like that.”

Oh the unruly thing— to speak the truth on jealousy.

Forfeit the fight and apologize.

Simon’s hands clenched and unclenched, chest heaving up and down— he chose the latter.

Let him show you how you were his and his alone, right on that porch. He’d think of an apology mid fuck, say sorry once or twice and say it again to you tomorrow. Proper, make you breakfast and talk all soft how you like. Make you squirm in your seat with kisses on your neck till you shrug and whisper, ‘I-I guess Mr. Riley.’

Fuck, you were so damn cute. Couldn't keep his hands off you.

Till then, he’d bend you over while he sat in one of the rocking chairs. Hike that pretty white skirt up to your hips while bringing your mushy mess of clothed pussy right to his face.

How’d he do all that so quickly? Well it’s quiet easy when your both a little mad, a little cynical in your own right— so pissed off that you both need to “cool off” your own emotions. Rub one out.

That southern man would yank you close by the hip with his large hand and plant a kiss on your needy two tone lips. Roughly intertwining your mouths, if you’d interject (or tried to get another word out), he’d slap your ass a few times. Enough to get a moan out of you, telling you to ‘shut the fuck up.’ You’ll stumble over to the chair together and he’ll spin you around, do what he has to do.

And God, did he loooove fucking you on that wrap around porch. Whether it be at the end of a long work day or right after the chickens crowed on his day off that had to be spent with you and no one else.

Mouth salivating, Simon ripped apart your white cotton panties in two, with a cut pink bow and embroidered with Mrs. Riley on them, causing you to yelp out, swatting at his shoulder while he spread your pussy lips apart. Staring at the glistening pink mess only he could see, only he could create.

“So gorgeous mama. Ruinin this underwear, who’s all this for?”

He whispers, not to you, not to himself, to God— ‘Thank you for the meal’ he’d give your cunt a sweet peck before letting his flat tongue swallow you whole. Slurping up every drop that came out of you.

“F-fuck you Mr. Riley, seriously fuck you!” You gasped, hand reaching behind you to spread yourself wider.

He groans against you, slapping at your sopping mess once, “Lil girl, I’m tryin,” he flicks his tongue around your hole before sliding two fingers into you. “Therrre you go Lucky, all that damn talkin, just needed somethin in your pretty little hole huh?”

You moan, “Talkin c-cause I’m right! hngh- You’re just- hah- just so hardheaded- aangh!”

Simon thrusts his fingers harsher, sucking at the fingers you were getting wet, then down to your pretty button of a clit. You kick your foot out right when his fingers curl into you juuuuust right, almost falling forward till he wraps an arm around you to keep you steady.

“Stay still baby girl, or you’ll fall.” he gruffs, lapping his tongue every to slowly through your folds.

“Mr. Riley- I can’t! Shit! Augh“ you hiccup, you gut twisting in knots.

“Shhhh Mrs. Riley? Yer bein so loud when me ‘nd her are talkin.” Simon buries his face in your cunt, fingers slamming into creating a loud sloshing of your wetness until he feels you flutter once, his takes a breath away, his voice horse as your syrupy cum trickles down his throat and onto the floor. “This is just what she needs baby, just hush and take it.”

He bites the beautiful fat of your ass before diving back in, slurping and letting his fingers work in and out of you till you’re shattering around his thick digits. Screaming as you wet his face. And Simon swallows it all down. Sticking his tongue in your sponginess of your walls as you clench repeatedly.

Simon pulls away, turning you around while your still in a daze, face wetter than ever with your slick. He pulls you on top of him, springing his aching cock free from the boxers that restrained them, that slaps right at his abs. You rested your head against his, letting the man rub his aching red tip against your hole.

With a slap to your ass, you ease yourself down on him, a pornographic moan of pain and pleasure leaving your plump lips.

“Take this off.” Simon huffs, fingers pulling at the straps of your bralette and grinding up into you.

“Mmph- But Simon i-it’s strange.” You hiccup. You always get so nervous when you two go at it on the porch. His shy baby, he’d remind you that no one, especially at 1 or 2 in the morning, is coming or will ever hear your loud moans. But maybe you’d sound like a banshee if this man got anywhere near your chest. Your nipples had become so sensitive as of late and you didn’t know why.

Simon on the other hand, adored it. Couldn’t get enough when they got all puffy and the way you whined when they hurt. Like music to his ears. But he soothes you, rubs your back and rests his chin on your chest.

“Ain’t strange f’me tuh have what’s mine, is it? Come on, show ‘em to me. You know I looooove how pretty they are.”

You bite your lip, this man could get you to do anything. If this was 10 months ago, you would’ve laughed in your own face if you said you were fucking outside, let alone mindlessly listening to a man. You took off the material holding your breasts, throwing it off to the side.

Simon cups them both in his large hands, groping and squeezing at them, “Pretty tits gonna be filled with milk for our kid soon, huh mama? Can’t wait to see you feedin ‘em. Gonna look so beautiful.”

You moaned his lap, attempting to cover your mouth with the back of your hand as he gave one of your nipples a little suck. Gently taking it between his teeth and nipping at it.

You looked beautiful, your pretty mounds bouncing right in his face while you moved up and down, taking every inch of his veiny cock he was willing to give you. All while he sucked your hardened nipples, looking you right in the eyes. A groan escapes you lips, grinding your hips even harder.

He grunts, meeting you half way and thrusting up into you when your legs began to shake, “Love when I suck on ‘em don’tcha Lucky? Need it to get off.”

You only whimper, eyes fluttering, as you fight your own pleasure. You manage to stifle up a, “Shut up Mr. Riley.” But it does no Justice to the way your rubbing your perfect tits in his face. Begging for more. Wanting him to suck just a little bit more.

“Lil girl, I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what you want, can I?” He tuts, looking up at you with such lust filled eyes.

“Please Si, need you, please?” You keen, letting your nipples rub against his face to feel something, anything.

Simon would give you anything at the drop of a hat, even if you didn’t have any manners, and most definitely if you used that ultra rare nickname with him. He grips your hips, slamming you down on his dick, taking your gorgeous nipples in his mouth and sucking like his life depended on it making you moan. His tongue swirled around your areola, French kissing both of them equally while he rudely bullied his cock through your velvety walls.

Your fingers find his golden locks of hair, running through them while he rams into you, finding your g-spot causing you to squeal, more of your slick dropping past your thighs and onto Simon.

“Fuck me baby, Gonna cum, you want it?”

“Want it so bad Mr. Riley. Nng- Need it all in me.” You whine. Your head falls on his shoulder as he sob his name like a prayer, clutching onto him as your walls tighten around his length, spasming.

“That’s it pretty, that’s it, s-shit.” Simon fills you to the brim, working his cum deep inside you, bouncing you a few more times.

You don’t even know how you got to the floor.

You fluttered your eyes open and Simon had you on your knees, the meanest arch with your back and your face pressed up against the hardwoods floor. Your mixed cum was dripping down to the floor while he smacked his tip against your sloppy cunt. You shuddered at the feeling, mewling in want.

Simon heard your phone ring from his back pocket, he scuffed yanking it out from his pants, just to see that idiot calling you. And probably while his girlfriend was sleep, that fucking cheating bitch. A curse feel from Simons lips.

“Mr. Riley?” You keened, You looked back at him with those big brown eyes, batting those long lashes, a pout adorning your face. You shimmied your ass back on him and he groaned.

Were you too cock drunk to hear your own damn phone vibrate? A devilish grin on Simons face, he’ll get what he wants and fill you up just how you need to too.

He answered it, leaving it on speaker before tossing it in the chair Simon just fucked you in.

“[+]? Are you there?” The stupid prick asks in a whisper, and right then Simon rocks himself into you. Giving your ass a harsh slap before drilling his dick inside your cum soaked walls.

“Fuuuuck- feels so goooood Mr. Riley!” You practically screamed, eyes fluttering shut. That was answer enough, honestly. Your Mr. Riley was fucking you dumber than dumb, your mouth forming a ‘o’ with movement.

“Tell me darlin, who you in love with?”

“M-my huuushband.” you slurred out, drool leaving the corner of your lips, nipples grazing the floor with every harsh thrust.

“And who’s that?”

“Mmmph- you Mr. Riley.”

The ends of Simons lip curve up, such a good girl taking his cock. A white ring forming at the base of his length, “ ‘S that right pretty?”

“I-I love you soooo much papa! More than- hngh- mooore than anything, I swear!”

Papa? New.

He likes it.

Simon snickers at your response, stretching you out so fucking much, and giving you the sluttiest, cruelest thrusts of his life. The loud, smack, smack, smack of your hips colliding could be heard miles away, “Pa loves you too, don’t I, Lucky?”

“So much, fuck, love on me sooo much Pa!” You breath hitched,

And it’s just enough to let that bastard hear exactly what Simon Riley does to you. Simon glances at the phone and it’s already hung up, he's sure the idiots dick got wet from the precious and needy sounds you and your sobbing cunt were making.

Love making was a be-au-tiful thing between a married couple who loved each other, wasn’t it?

Simon bends down, tweaking your nipples in his hands as he rams into you faster, swiveling his hips into you.

His voice is low, gentle, and he whispers right in your ear which makes you tingle all over, “I’m sorry sweet girl, was jealous.”

“I- shit, shit, shit, I know. Mmph- ‘s okay. Love you so much, always want you sooo fuckin much papa.” Your words turn into sobs, tears filling your eyes as you jerk in his arms.

“That’s my girl.” Simon mumbles against your cheek, holding you closer, makes you take his thick cock while he bruises your poor cunt. His hand comes down to your clit, giving it small circles with his thumb, and you cum. Hard. And maybe you were as loud as a banshee, completely soaking the dick that was splitting you cunt in half.

And Simon didn’t stop, fucking you right through your orgasm that seemed to never end.

Simon growls at the feel of your gummy walls, managing to get tighter while he gives you frantic thrusts. Gobbling at your neck while he snaps his hips into yours, kissing your cervix with his leaking tip. Grunts and moans of ecstasy fill the star fill sky as you two cum. Ropes of cum leaking right into your womb, just as you needed.

A good filling.

Simon pats your stomach, “That’s right where our babies gonna go Lucky. Promise, tonight a baby's gonna be right in there.”

You giggle, eyes low and dazed, “G-gonna make you a real Daddy, Mr.Riley.”

“Yeah,” he swoons breathlessly. Kissing the apple of your cheek making you giggle again. “Can’t wait to see our pretty baby sweetheart.”

a/n: this was a request so lmk what you think bubbas (I know it wasn’t that icky but idk I still think it’s cute). Also @bunnybeaches proofread for me so thank you so much🥺 I luv you.

most recent masterlist more country!simon

[dix0nspretty]

something something gifting soap one of your hairbands so that he can wear it on his wrist, marking him as yours, but the man is such a fucking pervert he ends up with it around his cock, wearing it like a cockring

[dix0nspretty]

Being the pretty bird that works at the little art store at the corner— the one Johnny visits every Saturday following his medical discharge from service. Art being one of the few things he has left that the bullet couldn’t take from him.

And it’s easy to fall in love with people who are in love with what they’re doing. And Johnny falls a little more in love every time he hears you— asking questions about things he had never really intended to buy just to listen to you explain them. The differences between tube and pan watercolors, how to use acrylic media, the importance of using high contrast photos when making gel prints.

You’re used to his little outbursts. His impulse control is shot. You’re used to him zoning out while you speak.

“Sorry, hen— can ye explain tha’ again? Got distracted imaginin’ wha’ ye’d look like pregnant.”

That one’s new.

[dix0nspretty]

Soap about to go nuclear because he’s seeing you pull all of the stereotypical cutesy ploys to get intimate with ghost and none of them are landing

Holding your hand up to his and acting in awe of how much bigger it is than yours

In cold safe houses telling him you should just sleep in the same bedroll to keep warmer

Asking him if he wants to fucking share chapstick with your lips all pursed and shiny

Soap pulling ghost aside with a death grip on his shoulders saying “c’mon man yer focking killing me. Please just fuck her”

And ghost being like “idk what you’re talking about she doesn’t like me like that”

And soap being 2 minutes away from just grabbing your heads and making you kiss like dolls

[dix0nspretty]

Johnathan Price fucking you while he makes you recite your wedding vows all over again because you were being a brat and telling him how you hate him.

[dix0nspretty]

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ 𝑫𝒂𝒓𝒚𝒍 𝑫𝒊𝒙𝒐𝒏 𝑵𝑺𝑭𝑾 𝑯𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒄𝒂𝒏𝒐𝒏𝒔 ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆

Daryl won’t ever make the first move. He wouldn’t risk making you feel uncomfortable or putting you in that type of situation. He knows that with the apocalypse, you have to deal with all different kinds of men and wants you to know he isn’t one of them.

When you make it clear that it's what you want, he’ll do whatever you tell him to. He wants you to feel good, he derives pleasure from seeing how you react to his touch. The way your temperature rises when his hands explore your curves. Or how your eyes flutter when he’s climbing between your legs. The soft moans that escape your mouth when he hits the right spot. How your hands dig into his flesh, all of it gives him the motivation to keep going.

As much as Daryl loves leaving you nice and full, on occasion he will paint your face, stomach, and right on top of your pussy. He attains a certain gratification from watching you pick it up and lick it off your finger. 

Daryl loves the way you taste. He loves burying his face between your plush lips. Soaking up all the juices you release for him. The way your hands run down to his hair. He keeps your thighs to bed as you arch your back, mind desperately trying to run from his tongue. However, the way your body reacts every time he’s near, it’s clear how badly you're infatuated with him. 

He loves leaving kisses all over your body when he’s inside you. He can feel your extra heartbeat around him, a feeling of pure ache and pain. When you're under him, unable to form complete sentences. He’ll grab the back of your hand and leave kisses all over it.

He describes making love to you like having ice-cold water on a hot day. Relief washes over his entire body. Feeling the liquid crawl through every inch of his body. The way you envelop him sets his body on fire. A flame that could burn forever. 

The contrast between his hardness and your spongy softness is a sensation that can only be described as connection. Feeling his cock hit that spot right before your cervix does nothing but send a wave of pleasure throughout your entire body. 

You love watching yourself expand to house his entire length. Spellbound to see his cock disappear inside you. The initial rush of his first movements gets your blood rushing and pulse rising. Your body naturally welcomes him in, like you were made for this.

Once Daryl is close, his pace begins to get messy, slamming into with all the strength in his body. All he feels is your warm, moist, and slimy guts that make his muscles weak. All he can do is give into you. 

That spot that sits on the far back side of the cervix. Pass your G-spot. When he hammers into you, it creates a lot more lubrication, only furthering his actions. 

Daryl loves cumming in your mouth. There's no better sight than seeing tears swell up in your eyes, drool oozing from the sides of your mouth. Seeing how hard you're trying to please him. 

Even though he’s strong enough to manhandle you and throw you around, he doesn’t. He loves being gentle with you, slow and sleeping morning sex with you before he goes on about his day. Making each other feel good early in the morning, showing how much his body needs you. 

Spooning in bed together is often a nice way to unwind after a long day. Though some nights his hand will crawl through the blankets to reach your pussy, slowly massaging your clit. Making you squirm under him, trying to pretend you're sleeping. It’s pointless because you’ll always release a plea for him to go faster. 

Daryl would love fucking you outdoors. Pounding you into a tree, while the others are busy taking care of work. He’d grip your breasts to protect them from the rough bark. Letting a mixture of your juice fall down your legs. With your panties around your ankles.

Words of affirmation!1!! This man will constantly remind you how good you feel around him, how toasty you make him feel. Sometimes he’ll talk to your pussy saying things like “Does my pretty pussy wanna go again?”

When you ride him, Daryl would lock his arms around you. You’d stop riding him when he says so. And when he gets you in this position, there's no getting out, you’re practically a living fleshlight for him.

Daryl wants to fill your pretty pussy to brim and then clean it up with his tongue.

[dix0nspretty]

Currently I have this thought of Johnny being the perfect fuck boy (what do you mean by the perfect fuck boy) who has got all this charm and very charismatic aura around him that does attracts men and women alike (my boy bi), and then there is you the nerd who is trying to get dicked down because everyone makes fun of you as the innocent virgin friend.

Johnny has a mate, Simon who is also a fuck boy, but more on the scary side— totally your type, big, buff, scary dog privileges. Oof— but he doesn't do virgins, inexperienced sweethearts; so when you come up to Simon with your request he's flicking you off ain't got time for innocent birds sweet'art and dismissed you.

So you go to his best mate, Johnny ofc to get fucked. And Johnny complies because you're such a sweetheart stuttering and so shy asking and almost on the verge of tears because Simon rejected you. And Johnny does fuck you good, so good but the whole time you're crying on his cock over Simon's rejection.

Johnny has never been turned on and annoyed, he just fucks you harder because Lass I'm the one making ye feel so good, why thinking about that wanker? Hmm?

(in my head simon joins the fuck, it's a threesome)

[dix0nspretty]

None of the 141 could risk fumbling their bird- coz Johnny is there.. starving 👁️👁️

[dix0nspretty]

top 3 daryl sex headcanons?

୨ৎ — baby boy is vanilla as all fuck. despite the fact that some of my writing is not vanilla, he is. i know i’m writing him ooc a lot but that’s just cause a girl can dream. okay?? but he is so vanilla it’s unfair. he doesn’t even know how to initiate sex and just goes into an internal panic at the thought of it.

୨ৎ — he doesn’t care about his own pleasure as much as he does about his partners. he’s not big on sex, never has been, probably never will be. in all of the apocalypse, we’ve seen him (onscreen) have sex once, and technically we didn’t even see him. i just think he’s more into little acts of affection, like leaning on each other. i think even holding hands for more than a few seconds is too much for him. but when it does come down to sex, he’d much rather take care of his partner and make sure that their needs are fulfilled than worry about himself.

୨ৎ — he cums almost instantly. he just be cumming and cumming. he’s so unused to the feeling of sex that it overwhelms him quickly. sometimes he’s barely inside - which can take a few minutes because i just know that he’s thick - before he’s having to spill inside you or pull out. then he’s all apologies and flushed in the face with embarrassment. such a sensitive little cutie patootie.

[dix0nspretty]

(john price x reader who basically manifests him into her life)

It all started with a pie.

A blackberry pie, to be exact. One that you’d spent a good part of the morning perfecting- balancing the sweetness and tartness with the precision of a master alchemist concocting a love potion. You were almost convinced that this particular pie might finally be the answer to your mother’s prayers: an offering so mouthwatering that it would distract her from once again insisting you marry that insufferably dull miller’s son, Thomas.

You had just placed it on the windowsill to cool, the aroma curling through the cottage like a siren’s song, when your mother barged in, cheeks flushed with determination. “I’ve invited Thomas for supper.” She announced, as if she was a witch summoning a dark spirit.

You almost dropped the teapot. “Mother, no.”

“Mother, yes. Darling, you’re not getting any younger.” She clasped her hands like a pious martyr, staring heavenward as if appealing for divine assistance. “Why, you are practically ancient now. Do you know how many children I had at your age? Three! And you- still unmarried. People are talking.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but that’s when inspiration struck. Perhaps it was the sweetness of the pie that made your thoughts reckless, or perhaps the desperation of avoiding Thomas’s endless ramblings about grain prices, and so you straightened your spine. “… But I already have a suitor.”

Your mother paused, mouth pursed like she’d bitten into a particularly sour lemon. “You what?”

“Yes.” You adjusted your apron with all the gravitas of a queen revealing her long-lost heir, except you were revealing a beloved. “He’s a soldier. Off fighting bravely in the war. Captain… John Price.” You plucked the name from thin air, thinking it sounded stalwart, military-ish and utterly believable.

Your mother’s eyes narrowed. “And why haven’t I heard of this… Captain before?”

“Well, we didn’t want to make a fuss. You know how people talk.”

Her suspicion melted, replaced with gleaming hope. “A soldier, you say? A captain?”

“Yes,” you continued, your voice growing bolder. Let ir never be said that you did not inherit some of your father’s love for theatrics. “He writes to me. Beautiful letters, whenever he has the chance to, and I always reply. I’ll… I’ll show you one!”

That’s how you found yourself hunched over your rickety desk that night, ink staining your fingers, spinning an epic tale of love and longing so good you justknew Shakespeare was probably rolling in his grave

Dear Captain John Price,

My heart is but a lonely swallow without you. The days stretch long and tiresome in your absence, but I hold steadfast, knowing that one day you will return to me- my brave, rugged soldier.

Yours, faithfully.

You took great care in writing the letter, wanting it to look as if it had been penned by a devoted girl waiting patiently for her beloved captain. Before folding it, you pressed a dried flower between the pages and lightly scented the paper with a dab of your favorite perfume, the fragrance soft and sweet, leaving no doubt that the writer was a gentle, affectionate soul and not an absolutely insane woman tricking her parents. You even tied it with a delicate ribbon, imagining how any soldier would feel cherished to receive such a letter.

To your utter (non)surprise, it worked. Your mother clutched the letter to her chest with a tearful sigh, whispering something about true love. And from that moment on, Captain John Price became your imaginary lover, a sturdy bulwark against matchmaking attempts.

And so, the years passed, and John Price became a part of your life. You wrote letters to him whenever the pressure to marry reached critical mass, each one a little more elaborate than the last. You even took to carrying one of his supposed letters (which you also wrote yourself) in your apron pocket, just in case anyone questioned your devotion.

You never expected, however, for the Captain himself to show up at your doorstep.

It was a crisp autumn evening when the knock came. You barely registered it, too busy trying to salvage the stew that was steadfastly refusing to thicken. When the knock came again, louder and more insistent, you huffed and flung open the door, still clutching your wooden spoon like a weapon and a mighty glare on your face.

There stood a man. A mountain of a man, truthfully. Tall, broad-shouldered, with a commanding presence that seemed to make the very air hold its breath. His face was framed by a well-groomed beard, his eyes a piercing blue beneath a well-worn cap. And clutched in his large hand was a bundle of letters- scarily familiar letters, actually.

His mouth curved into a slow, wolfish grin. “Well, love. You’ve got some explainin’ to do.”

You froze, spoon hovering mid-air. “You- how- who are you?”

He chuckled, the sound more than a little smug. “Name’s Captain John Price. You might recognize me from your rather… heartfelt correspondence.” He held up one of the letters, the familiar scrawl of your handwriting a stark betrayal.

Your stomach dropped. “…Coincidence.”

“Oh, I don’t think so,” he drawled, stepping inside as if he owned the place. “Imagine my surprise when your letters kept landing in my hands. At first, I thought it was just some lonely girl scribbling fantasies. But the boys kept handin’ them to me- said they lifted spirits, readin’ how you were waitin’ for me.”

You spluttered, backing up as he prowled forward. “But- how did they-“

He shrugged, almost casual. “You put my name and rank on the letters. Found their way to me eventually. You’ve been rather… devoted, haven’t you?”

You sputtered. “Devoted? I was just- avoiding marriage!”

His eyes darkened, jaw tightening. “Didn’t stop me from thinking about it. About you. When I read how you longed for me- waited so faithfully- made a man think. Would’ve kept any other bastard from sniffin’ around, I’d hope.”

Your tongue felt heavy in your mouth. “I didn’t think you were real!”

He leaned closer, the scent of tobacco and gunpowder curling around you like a trap. “Oh, I’m real, love. And now I’m here. Reckon you owe me a bit of hospitality after all those love letters, no?”

Your mouth opened and closed like a landed fish.

“Didn’t matter if you didn’t mean it, you still wrote it. Made me think of comin’ home to you, of claimin’ what’s mine.” His fingers brushed your jaw, thumb tracing your cheek with surprising tenderness. “You made yourself mine. And now, I’ve come to collect.”

Before you can muster a protest, he leans down, capturing the corner of your lips in a kiss, your face frozen solid in shock. When he finally pulls back, his thumb brushes your swollen lip.

“That clear enough for you, wife?”

p2