Hi
Since I’m in some sort of writers block moment, I bring u a snippet from an unfinished little sequel to my John Price x Reader feet kink fic. Wrote this before my lil writers block, there might be some mistakes. No actual smut in this one but some teasing. MDNI
Tw: feet kink. If it’s not your thing, scroll away. 🦶👣🦶
F!reader x John Price
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After his ‘secret’ was out, Price dropped all pretense, almost excitedly demanding to see your manicures and in particular pedicures, when he knew you had gotten your nails done. He always knew - he paid for it after all, sometimes shyly requesting colours.
Even though you didn’t quite get what his thing was with your feet, you didn’t mind it - especially not when you realized how easily you could turn him on sometimes. How you could rile him up with almost nothing, knowing this little dirty ‘secret’ of his.
So, when he had caught you masturbating - you were horny and missed him, and he wasn’t even supposed to be home that early - he stopped you before you could finish, making you whine and whimper. But no mercy was shown and since you had dinner reservations out, you behaved, not wanting to sit on a burning, spanked ass.
Dinner was a wonderful experience however and you almost forgot your little plan - until he teased you as you waited for your desserts, asking if you wanted his hand or belt.
And while you were in the punishment boat, you figured that you might as well go down big. Which was why you slipped off one of your shoes discreetly beneath the dinner table, your feet hidden by the white tablecloth, pressing it against his knees while casually answering, “hm, I don’t know. Technically I didn’t finish, did I?”
You didn’t even wait a second before moving your foot a little further up his leg, the realization on his face worth every spank you might earn yourself. His jaw dropped open for a moment, which almost made you giggle - and then your big, bad SAS soldier blushed, much to your delight.
“Bloody hell, bird,” he rumbled, one hand sliding beneath the table, to catch your ankle. His hand was warm and the strong fingers held onto you as you snickered when the waiter then returned to the table. You were given your desserts and while Price was slightly red in the head, you thanked the waiter with a happy smile.
The moment the waiter left, his eyes were instantly back at you as you innocently picked at your icecream, feeling the hand tightening around your ankle.
“You’re diggin’ your own grave deeper, pet,” he muttered - to which you smiled over at him, slowly taking a bite of your ice, letting out a small, over dramatic pleased moan - before stretching your foot, pressing your toes against his groin.
You could see the way his jaw tensed and you wiggled your toes a little, his grip tightening even more before he pushed you away a little. A part of you were convinced you could feel his cock harden beneath your toes.
“Sweetheart,” there was a warning tone to his voice, as he pushed your foot away, a slight red color to his cheeks.
“Eat your ice cream,” you answered, teasingly acting as if you weren’t feeling yourself getting wet from the way his voice became a little darker, “before it melts.”
You wondered if you could make him cum like this, from having his cock touched by your foot, even with the fabric of the pants and boxers between it. If he would roll his hips and grind against them, if he would keep his grip on your ankle and move your foot as he pleased. If he would stain his pants - or if he would just do the walk of shame with a boner.
John Price, the big bad captain who often made you scream with how well he fucked you, leaving you an absolute dripping mess, let out a huff. Then turned to his ice cream, picking up his spoon as you pulled your foot away , slipping into your shoe again.
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Okay but, closeted trans lady pregnant prompts... 👀
Alright, different angle, lets seeeeeee........
Tgirl gets pregnant, she's still in the closet with her job but like, that's not a big deal, she works from home! She's a software dev who is very independent and good at her job, so 99% of the time, she gets to sit at home, code through her shift, collect her paycheck, and mind her own business. And that suits her just fine. No coming out, no drama, she barely speaks to her coworkers outside of emails, and she has browser plugins to replace her deadname and old pronouns with her current name, so... from her perspective, it's like they already know? 38 weeks crawl by, and the combination of a sedentary job with a twin pregnancy and the accompanying cravings means she really blows up. Her belly is ALL out front, and she's a little squishier too. Her due date is soon, but no big deal, she has a year's worth of vacation PTO saved up, so she can covertly squeeze in pseudo-maternity leave and be fine. She's kind of liked the pregnant lady life. Sure, she had to order a couple of maternity dresses for doctors appointments, but otherwise she gets to sit at home with her belly out and just... exist peacefully. Granted, nearing her due date means she's at the apex of her growth, and she looks every bit as pregnant with twins as you can get, but the belly makes a good snack table! And she can "rubber duck" code with her unborn twins, so there's even a nice work benefit. Then the fateful day comes. She finishes this quarter's big project, and she goes to submit for all that sweet, sweet maternity vacation time... when her submission doesn't take. She gets an email 10 minutes later. "Hey, HR messed something up with remote PTO submission. Could you come into the office tomorrow? We'll process that request manually. Sorry for the inconvenience,"
The Egg-iest tgirl egg you've ever met gets knocked up. They don't think they're trans, but they've also not dabbled in feminine anything, and while the writing is on the wall for everyone else they know, THEY are going to be the last person to know they are trans. Their belly starts to fill out and swell, and their old wardrobe just... stops working. A friend of theirs who has kids offers one of her maternity dresses. "Just try it. At minimum, it's comfortable, and it'll keep you warm when december rolls around" she says. They begrudgingly accept. One night, frustrated with their mid-term tummy causing their pants to ride down and shirt to ride up, they put it on... and it takes a moment before they realize... wait a minute, this is really nice? They feel pretty, they look it too. The pregnancy glow suits them. A few weeks later, they paint their nails, a couple weeks later, they shave their legs (or try around that now officially third trimester belly)... they're gonna wait to try heels until after they give birth, their balance is bad enough as it is. One day near their due date, their friends are all around throwing them a baby shower, and they finally pull the trigger and come out. Everyone is of course super supportive and happy for her, but after the party each friend comes to her independently, saying something to the effect of "We love you, but we totally called it".
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