Girlfriend! Reader Finding Out Johnny Still Talks To His Ex Because Their “just Friends” But She

Hello! I noticed that you’ve been liking my work 🥰 I’m glad you’re enjoying them!

So sorry for the late reply but of course of course. Your writing is truly amazing and I've fallen in love. Thank you and I hope you continue 😘😘😘

PRICE ROT now????

kyle who very early on realizes that you can't fall asleep to silence, putting the pieces together that first time you walked him through your setup on a late night call. he doesn't mention anything, lets you play it off as this ritual you've put in place, picking a movie to put on every night for weeks on end. he says nothing, only keeps track of how often you change movies, unsurprised that it was an early marvel film that kept you the longest. he hasn't spent the night yet and he knows the exact volume and brightness settings you pick for bedtime. he just waits and listens, matching your pace.

and after months of bedtime calls and snuck-in goodnight messages, kyle is rewarded with a gift, one he recognizes in its entirety. you ask him what you should put on.

a couple of weeks prior, you mentioned the light coming from the tv starting to keep you up, so the timing is perfect

what about a bedtime story?

your knee jerk reaction is to laugh, less at the suggestion and more at the words. that's such a silly thing isn't it? it's something a kid does, something a kid needs. and you don't.

you like my voice, you fall asleep on calls with me all the time

you can't even try to deny that, you know you've both kept score and it doesn't add up in your favor. okay, fine, you'll bite. but what if he doesn't have something to read from? what would it even be about?

do you trust me?

you do. you do.

you're nervous that first night, going through all of the motions of settling while on the phone with him. part of you worries that he'll realize that this is silly and he'll back out. which would be fine, you tell yourself. if it doesn't work, it doesn't work. the remaining part of you is scared it will.

the only light left in the room is the glow from your phone when he starts. his tone is low and deep, a slow steadiness you hear most often when you're in his arms. you don't focus on the words, just the sound of his voice, closing your eyes because when you do, you can almost feel the warmth of his body next to yours. slowly, you relax, softening into the bedding, pillows cocooning you all around. you remember hearing a smile in his voice as your breathing evens out.

the next morning comes in a flash and you find yourself in the exact same position you fell asleep in. you scramble to turn your phone, afraid he's disappeared. but there's a text already waiting for you.

sleep well?

he'd be entirely too proud of himself if he could see the smile on your face, but you can't bring yourself to lowball him. better than you can last remember, you tell him.

good. i have another picked out for tonight

a single night is all it takes for kyle to become your nightly ritual.

as your nightly calls grow longer, you're no longer sure quite when they end. fuck, you can't even keep track of the narrative. he could be telling you the same story over and over and you wouldn't even know. you fall asleep too fast to catch any of the details. and still he calls, every night he can

he even records himself for the nights he can't call, sending you a different story every time he has to leave. that way you both know he's still with you, and he knows you're sleeping well.

https://twitter.com/lovingthegoods/status/1672620597535289344?s=46

⬆️Ony and connie seein how many times u can squirt🥴

https://twitter.com/lovingthegoods/status/1677044748517793794?s=46

⬆️Ony teachin you a lesson while he only halfway in😮‍💨

1. omgggg you making me wanna write thisssss😛

2. this video gets me every time i swearrrrrr😩😩

because i know y’all will appreciate my creation 🖼🧎‍♀️

Happiness Will Come To You.

❥𝘗𝘳𝘪𝘤𝘦 𝘢𝘴 𝘢𝘯 𝘈𝘭𝘱𝘩𝘢

《𝘊𝘞 - 𝘖𝘮𝘦𝘨𝘢𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘦, 𝘏𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘴, 𝘙𝘶𝘵𝘴, 𝘍𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘋𝘰𝘮 𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳 + 𝘚𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘭𝘺 𝘚𝘶𝘣 𝘗𝘳𝘪𝘤𝘦 𝘛𝘰𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘥 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘌𝘯𝘥》

We already know he has a dad vibe so I really feel like he’s the best alpha to have. He’s traditional, sure, but he loves you. He’s definitely a nurturing alpha while also being somewhat of an authoritarian alpha. Remember when I said he’s traditional? Yeah…he’s not that traditional. He doesn’t force you to wear a collar around your neck though, if you want to wear one he’ll make sure to buy you to most comfortable collar ever made. So what it’s like 200 dollars?? He only wants the best for his beautiful omega!!

He’s the Captain of a task force so we already know he’s a force to be reckoned with. Most Alphas can tell by his scent that he’s demands respect and nothing less than respect and that transfers to you too. If any alpha DARES to make you uncomfortable or does something to harm you in ANY way, they will be dealt with. During your heats all he wants to do is knot you. You want cuddles? You’ll get them! You’ll just also have his knot in you. You want a Popsicle to make your fever go down? Here, let him move you to the couch…then he presses his knot inside you.

Wanna cuddle and watch movies? Cool! Turn on Netflix and ignore the fact he’s pulling your panties to the side.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

A small whimper escapes you as you feel Prices fingers dip into your slick cunt.

“Shh, just continue watching the television, sweetheart.” John mumbles as he curls his fingers inside you, gently prodding at your g-spot. Your legs tremble and shut around his hand causing him to chuckle and spread your legs again.

“Just relax for me.” His arm that’s wrapped around tightens slightly as he increases his pace. Another whimper escapes you as you open your legs again and grind your hips into his hand.

“That’s it, doin’ so well love.” He praises as he kisses your neck. He continues to rub his fingers against your g-spot, sending you quickly into an orgasm. He gently kisses your neck and hums in satisfaction.

“Did so well for me, love.”

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

Price isn’t a slave to his alpha nature. When he goes into Rut he’s able to control himself pretty well. He might be a bit snappy and slightly irritable but the base knows it’s because he’s in rut, they don’t take him snapping to heart. When it comes to you? He wants you in control. He wants you riding him as if he’s nothing but a sex toy. He wants you to treat him rough. He fuckin’ loves it when you dominate him when he’s in rut.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

Price huffs as he gently push him back into the bed.

“C’mon, Love. Do what you want to me. I can take it.” His voice shakes slightly as he looks up at you as if you hung the moon yourself.

It doesn’t take long for Price to get lost in your tight cunt as you begin to slowly ride him. Small trembling moans and choked whimpers as he claws at your hips only for you to pin his arms back.

“You told me to use you how I want, and right now I didn’t give you permission to touch.” You say with a small smirk. Price can only arch his back to urge you to go faster as you fully take charge.

Raspberry Girl Previous + masterlist + AO3 Simon Riley/female reader CW: 18+ daddy kink

You’re trying. 

Your body language betrays you. The effort and the turbulence beneath, your eyes flicking rapidly through the parking lot, the ramrod straight line of your spine, your quadricep tensing and relaxing under his palm as he works his fingers from your knee up, back and forth. 

“What’s wrong?” You sigh. Slump. Turn to face him with an anxious pout. 

“I just… I don’t love the restaurant store.” He gives you a chance, and then prompts, pushes just slightly.

“What’s the rule?” 

“Tell you when I’m scared, or anxious. Or overwhelmed.” He squeezes approval, and you continue. “It’s chaos, especially on a Sunday, and… it’s like a warehouse so the sound bounces…  all of it is really loud.” You latch onto his forearm, hard intake of breath sharp before softening, your fingers applying firm pressure. He doesn’t mind. You’re anchoring yourself to him, with him. It’s all he could ask for. 

“It’s okay baby, we’ll get it done and then go home. I’ll be with you.” Your head bobs repeatedly with a nod, but you make no effort to unbuckle your seatbelt or get out of the car. You need a little comfort, a little encouragement, things that are his job to provide, so he’s out of the truck on his side to open the passenger door, reaching over to unbuckle your seatbelt. “Close your eyes and open your mouth.” He works his thumb behind your teeth and rests it on your tongue, a pleased flush rushing through him when you immediately pull and suck on him. “Good girl.” You calm almost immediately, strained muscles and back turning plush, tight corners of your eyes smoothing away. When you lean in, looking for more contact, he decides to test the limits. Your limits. “Breathe through your nose,” he murmurs encouragingly as he presses deeper into your mouth, “there we go.” You try, but when his knuckles meet your lips and his thumb brushes your throat, the back of your tongue, you seize up, trying to swallow, trying to find air, and jerk away, gagging. He follows the movement, width of his hand against your neck with a finger against your pulse, keeping you steady and still through the swift rise and then decline of panic. It crashes like a wave, receding just as quick and leaving something in its place.

You blink rapidly, gears turning, so obviously trying to reconcile something you’re feeling, something he can so easily read. Worry. Shame. Spiral.

“Stop.” He brushes a kiss across your forehead. “Don’t go there. When it’s time, I’ll take care of you. Do you understand?” Your chest loosens. 

“Yes daddy.” Music to his ears.

“Does your throat hurt?” 

“It’s okay.” He cups the back of your head, guides you into his arms, and place your ear over his heart. You’ve started to tap your fingers with the rhythm, against your skin or his, self soothing, and it makes him whole. It’s not just a sexual dynamic with you, it’s everything, an entire soul under his shelter, a whole human using his heartbeat to ground themselves, and nothing is more fulfilling. “Ready to go?” You tug on him instinctively, hopping from the truck, keeping your grip locked in his. 

“Yeah.” He smiles at your resolve, the confidence. 

“Brave girl. C’mon.” 

It doesn’t bother him that you lock up again, the store is a madhouse. It’s overcrowded, and loud, the metal roof of the warehouse doing nothing to dull the senses, bright lights and too many boxes, bags, things being tossed around. 

You’re wide eyed, rooted to the floor, still clutching his arm in a stranglehold and he herds you towards a corner. 

“Tell me.” You don’t start immediately, scrounging around for words, and he encourages with a gentle reminder. “Remember your rules baby.” It doesn’t take anymore coaxing after that. 

“I’m overwhelmed.” You blurt, wincing, but just as he predicted, hoped, you visibly relax, and he takes your face in his hands. Holds his whole world. 

“Proud of you sweetheart.” Tears shine in your eyes, dew drops in the corners, and when one falls he wipes it away. “Do you need me to finish your list?” 

“Please, if it’s…” He doesn’t waste time, just moves you to the cart, stations you at the helm so you can steer and he can manage the rest. 

“You’ll push the cart, and stay in the middle of the aisles. I’ll get the things you need.” You blow out a breath. 

“Okay.” 

“When?” 

“Dunno. Sometime next week, I think. Wasn’t real clear.” Simon groans, rubs his nose into his palm and then pauses, listening for footfalls in the hall or the adjacent bedroom.

“Well, if they’re goin’ we are too. I’ll see what’s going on, let you know later.” Gaz grunts an affirmative and hangs up. He’s been restless, itchy, just like the others, but Simon’s in no rush. 

Not now. 

Not when he has you, here in house, with your things in his bedroom, his bathroom, with your toothbrush next to the sink. The slow migration of your stuff has begun and is in full swing, two fuzzy blankets, your switch, your kindle, even that weird pillow you have that you call Pusheen. It’s a stuffed cat of some kind, he thinks, and you use it as a pillow half the time, which means it’s little eyes are sometimes staring at him in bed. 

But you love it, and you don’t know yet, but he loves you. 

Every sweet piece, even the weird stuffed cat. 

Which is why he’s dreading the next mission, the next time he loads onto an airplane and drops into an undisclosed location, the next time he has to turn his mind dark, shutter his heart, forget about anything that could interfere with completing an objective. 

For the first time in his life, he doesn’t want it. 

And he doesn’t want to dwell on it right now either, so he shoves back from the desk and closes his laptop, opting to find you instead. 

You’re in the kitchen. There’s a beater in your hands, something else that’s new to him, and the rich scent of chocolate in the air. 

“What’s this?” He tugs you close, holds you against him with your back to his chest, kisses your ear. 

“Whipped cream.” You shiver, goosebumps raising the hair on your arms. “It’s for…. I made hot chocolate?” 

“Is that a question?” He nips your skin. it’s getting harder to control the instinct, the urge to mark you in every way possible. 

“N-no it’s… I made it. You can make whipped cream! I don’t know why anyone buys whipped cream in a can. I mean, I know. It’s because they don’t realize how easy it is. It’s really so simple and so much better. Obviously, people don’t have time to make it by hand, I know that, I’m not trying to make anyone feel bad, but…” 

“But?” He squeezes your hip. 

“But… it’s so good this way.” The stainless steel bowl glints under the kitchen’s pendant light. “Do you want some?” 

“Of course.” You bounce a bit on your toes, the smile he dreams about lighting up your face. “I don’t think I’ve ever had hot chocolate.” You give him a shocked look.

“Wha… what?” He shakes his head and sips. It’s silky and smooth, but not something that would rot your teeth. There’s a hint of decadent bitterness to it, well balanced, a roasted coffee taste of some kind.

“Didn’t get a lot of sweet stuff, ’til you.” Whipped cream dots your upper lip and he tries to tamp down the rushing blood in his veins. 

“That’s um… that’s…” He puts the mug down, already half empty. 

“It’s what, sweetheart?” 

“It’s nice.” You whisper, drifting closer, and he slides his hands up under your hoodie. 

“Hmm,” You’re so soft, everything about you, head to toe, and you tremble under his touch, the circles he scrawls into your skin as you try to regulate your breathing. He can’t help himself. “You were such a good girl for me today, weren’t you?” 

“Yes daddy, I tried.”

“You were. So good, and so sweet,” he taps your phone and sighs at the glowing numbers on the screen. Tomorrow. “It’s late, and you should be asleep already, go on.” He urges you away from the kitchen with a pat on your ass, even as you try to protest. “Bed, little berry girl.” 

“I can clean up-” 

“Bed,” he pauses, cocks his head and reaches for the bowl of whipped cream. “Will this still be good in the morning?”  Maybe he’ll wake you up with his mouth on your nipples, tongue working circles through cream as he drags his teeth across them, pinching them so he can hear your surprised little squeak. He’d paint you with his own if you were ready, decorate your body with his cum, drag it down to your pussy and then smear it over your clit, working back and forth until you were making your own mess on his hand. 

“Um… yes? If it’s left in the fridge.”

Maybe… 

“Perfect.”