Only Good Girls Get To Come (Cont.)

Only Good Girls Get to Come (Cont.)

Part 1

Your chest heaved as you came down from the high Price put you through, skin flushed and damp with sweat, limbs loose and useless. But even as your body sagged back onto the sheets, he stayed right there. Kneeling between your legs, one broad hand splayed possessively on your thigh, the other slowly withdrawing from you, fingers slick and glistening.

He watched your face the whole time.

“Fuckin’ beautiful,” he murmured, almost to himself. Then his tone shifted, the wolfish glint returning to his voice. “You’ll behave now, yeah?”

You blinked up at him, dazed. “Mmmaybe.”

John chuckled. Low. Dangerous.

He leaned in, bracing himself with one hand beside your head, the other catching your jaw to tilt your face up to his again. His thumb brushed your lower lip, slow and steady.

“Still mouthing off?” he asked softly.

You gave him a lazy, smug grin. “Takes more than that to shut me up, Captain.”

A dangerous pause.

“Cheeky little thing,” he said, his voice darker. His hand trailed down again, brushing through the folds of your swollen pussy, gathering your slick onto his fingers. He dragged them up, slow and deliberate, until he pressed them against your lips.

“Open.”

You did.

“Good girl.”

He let you taste yourself off his fingers, watching intently, and you swore you could feel his cock twitch against the fabric of those damned sweatpants still hanging low on his hips.

“Y’think you’ve earned this?” he asked, grabbing your hand and dragging it to his lap. Letting you feel the thick length straining under grey cotton.

You swallowed. Nodded.

He leaned down to your ear, voice like smoke and gravel.

“Then get on your knees and prove it.”

As Price moved off from the edge of the bed, you slid off, legs shaky but obedient, and sank to the floor in front of him. His eyes followed your every move, arms crossed over his chest like he was appraising you. Judging your willingness. Measuring your sincerity.

You palmed him through the fabric first, with slow strokes along the thick length beneath his sweats. He was hard. Of course he was. You bit your bottom lip as your desire threatened to consume you. The little groan he let slip when your fingers curled into the waistband was divine.

You tugged the sweatpants down just enough, freeing him from the fabric. His cock was thick, flushed, and heavy in your hand. You didn’t waste time. Your lips brushed the head with soft reverence. A delicate kiss. Then, you took him into your mouth, slow and as deep as your throat would allow.

Above you, Price hissed through his teeth. One large hand found the back of your head, firm but not forceful.

“Good girl,” he muttered, hips twitching forward. “Just like that.”

You worked him steadily with your wet and eager mouth, your spit dripping down his length as your mouth slid back and forth. You tried to impress him. Tried to be what he wanted. You even looked up through your lashes while sucking him down, playing the part of the obedient little thing.

And for a second…it worked.

Except, you couldn’t help yourself. The urge to toy with him was devouring you, like a wildfire consuming a forest. You pulled off him with a pop, giving him a smug look. Slick-mouthed, and pleased with yourself.

“Oops” You said with a pout, feigning innocence as your fingers wrapped around him again. “Slipped.”

His jaw ticked. That hand in your hair tightened. And before you could blink, he had you up on your feet. His other hand gripped your jaw firm enough that your mouth fell open under the delicious pressure.

“Slipped?” he repeated, voice dangerously quiet. “You call that slippin’, sweetheart?”

You tried to hold your smirk. Almost made it. But then he leaned down, nose brushing yours, gaze locked in on your lips.

“You keep slippin’ like that,” he murmured, “and I’ll forget all about fuckin’ you. I’ll just bend you over and leave you stuffed full of my fingers again. Let you sob for my cock while I make you say please with that filthy little mouth.”

You whimpered, involuntaryly. And he heard it.

“There she is,” he purred.

He let go of your face slowly, dragging his thumb over your lower lip one last time.

“Now,” he said, stepping back just enough to give you a choice. “Do you want to try again? Or do you want to spend the rest of the night beggin’ and never gettin’?”

Your eyes flicked to his cock. It was hard, heavy, and right there. Your body ached. Your thighs trembled.

You swallowed softly as you dropped your gaze, “…Please,” you said, quiet.

He tilted his head.

“Try again.”

You looked up at him, lips parted, chest heaving.

“Please, John. I want you to fuck me.”

He stepped forward, cupped the back of your neck, and kissed you with a deep possession, teeth dragging across your lip like he could barely restrain himself.

“Good girl,” he growled against your mouth. “Now get on the bed. Hands and knees. Let’s see how loud you can get.”

You scrambled back onto the bed, face down, arching your back instinctively. With your ass raised, you spread yourself wide. Your hands fisting into the sheets. The air felt electric against your bare skin, anticipation buzzing under every inch of you.

The rustle of fabric. His sweatpants finally hit the floor and the sound made your stomach flutter.

Then his hands were on you.

One gripped your hip, the other pressed flat between your shoulder blades, holding you down, guiding you exactly how he wanted you. Helpless and open for him.

“Look at you,” he muttered, voice low with desire, rough with his own need. “Back arched, legs spread... guess you can behave after all.”

You opened your mouth to answer, but gasped instead when you felt the blunt head of his cock drag through your soaked and puffy cunt. He teased you with it, slow, unhurried, rubbing himself against your entrance but not pushing in.

“Please,” you breathed, already trembling.

“Please what, sweetheart?” he asked, still not giving you what you needed.

“Please fuck me.”

He leaned over you, chest against your back, mouth grazing your ear.

“Louder.”

“Please, John,” you cried. “I need your cock! Please, just fuck me!”

His grip tightened.

And then he slammed into you in one deep, devastating thrust.

You choked on a scream. Your vision going blurry as his thick cock, stretched you wide, filling you so deep you felt him in your gut. He didn’t give you a second to adjust before pulling back and driving into you again. Again. Again.

“That's it,” he growled, hips slapping against your ass. “Not so mouthy now, are ya?”

You tried to speak. All that came out was a breathless whimper.

He grabbed both your wrists and pinned them behind your back with one hand, the other gripping your hip like a vice. His rhythm was relentless. He pounded into you, driving the air from your lungs with every stroke.

“Christ,” he bit out. “It’s like this cunt was fuckin’ made for me.”

You cried out, back arching further, the angle hitting something devastating inside you.

He fucked you through it. Unrelenting. Every thrust felt like a punishment and a reward wrapped in one.

“Good girls get to come,” he grunted, voice rough and close to breaking. “Think you earned it yet, sweetheart?”

You nodded furiously, tears in your eyes, sobbing his name like it was a prayer.

He smacked your ass once, sharp, then dragged his fingers between your legs to circle your clit, fast and brutal.

“Then come for me.”

With his command you came apart on a loud and earth shattering moan, your whole body clenching around him as he continued to fucked you through it. You barely registered the broken groan he let out when he followed, burying himself deep and spilling into you, his grip never faltering.

In the pause that followed, the air thick with unspoken words, the only sounds were the rhythmic, heavy breaths of the two of you. You collapsed onto the sheets, gasping, boneless, and ruined. Every muscle in your body trembled as he slowly pulled out of you. Your pussy fluttered around nothing, clenching on air as if it could drag him back in by force.

But he hadn’t gone far.

You felt his hand on the back of your thigh, then his fingers, dragging through the mess between your legs, slow and deliberate.

You flinched. He chuckled.

“A bit much for you, love?” he asked, voice still thick and dark with satisfaction.

You whimpered, trying to wiggle away. He caught your hips easily, pulling you back, keeping you exactly where he wanted you.

“I asked you a question.”

You shook your head weakly into the sheets as you stuttered out, “To-too much…”

He hummed. Mocking sympathy.

“Oh, is my cock too much for you now?” He leaned in again, lips brushing your ear. “Didn’t sound like it when you were beggin’ for it.”

You groaned as his fingers slid between your folds again, gathering slick and using it to rub slow, deliberate circles on your overstimulated clit.

You jerked, gasping. “John…please…”

“Thought you wanted to be good,” he murmured, ignoring your pleas as he kept going. “Good girls take what they’re given.”

You choked out a moan, thighs trembling again. You were going to come again, already, how was that possible?

He kissed your temple, still relentless with his fingers.

“C’mon now. One more for me.”

You tried to twist away, but his hand stayed firm, holding you in place while he worked your clit with devastating precision. His body pressed to yours from behind. He was steady, unmovable, and grounding.

“Shhh,” he whispered when you sobbed. “I know. I know it’s too much. You’re gonna give it to me anyway.”

You shook, overwhelmed, panting into the mattress as the heat built again, bright and unbearable. Every nerve in your body lit up as he drove you toward the edge with slow, confident touches.

“That’s it,” he coaxed. “Let it happen. You’re doin’ so well.”

You could barely form words, but your body obeyed. Your pussy tightened, ached, pulsed, and then you broke. Again.

You came with a strangled sound, half-cry, half-plea, your body convulsing under him as wave after wave crashed through you. It was too much, too raw, too good. He never stopped touching you, even as you whimpered, whispering his name like you could anchor yourself with it.

Only when your body gave out completely, hips twitching and breath hitching, did he finally ease his hand away.

You collapsed fully, shaking, eyes blurry and heart pounding. You were wrecked. Undone. Completely spent.

And then… he softened.

He pulled you into his arms, settled the both of you onto your sides, cradling you against his chest with strong, steady hands. One stroked your hair, the other rubbed circles along your back. Gentle now. Grounding.

“Good girl,” he murmured against your temple. “Took it so well. Proud of you.”

You didn’t have the strength to reply, but the way you melted into him said enough.

He kissed your forehead, his voice low and soothing.

“Let’s get you cleaned up in a bit. You rest. I’ve got you.”

You nodded faintly, letting your eyes drift closed.

Safe. Warm. Held.

And completely, utterly, his.

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1 month ago

Price's Beard

The rain continued to pour down outside the dimly lit cabin. The sky, dark and cold, a sharp contrast compared to the warmth of the fire that crackled in the hearth. Its light casting flickers of gold across the worn wood. Your bare legs rubbed against the rug that adorned the small room and you hummed in content pleasure.

Price sat on the floor, back against the seat of a leather armchair, one leg outstretched and the other bent to allow his forearm to rest on his knee. His glass of scotch held lazily in his fingers by the rim. You curled up between his legs, into his bare chest. Both your clothes, discarded and soaking wet, by the front door. Except Price was kind enough to offer you his hoodie. It was the only dry article of clothing to be found. The smell of cigars still clung to the fabric.

You gently snatched the glass from his hand and took a sip. Not your preference. Though, it did give you the illusion of warmth as the scotch spread through you. You swirled the liquid inside, captivated by how the flickering firelight danced upon the amber hues, enchanting you with its glow.

“Beautiful…” You said absentmindedly.

Price grabbed the glass and sat it on the side table next to the chair. You peered up at him with a half hearted pout. He tilted his head, eyes narrowed slightly, the way they always did when he was calculating something. His beard, still damp from the storm, framed a slow, knowing smile as his eyes held yours.

“You’re quiet tonight,” you murmured, your voice low, like the way you’d speak in a church or a dream you didn’t want to wake from.

“Just thinking how lucky I am,” he said. His voice was gravelly and low, softened only by the hint of affection behind it. “Not many get something like this.”

You smiled, reaching up to brush a finger along the curve of his cheek and temple, where the firelight danced in his eyes. “You say that like you haven’t earned it.”

He hummed quietly. Though, you weren’t sure whether it was in agreement or not, because his head dipped down to place a slow and soft kiss on your lips.

You let your fingers trail into his damp hair as the kiss deepened. The heat between you both rising. There was no rush in your movements, only a slow, reverent exploration, as if this moment was all that mattered, and there was nowhere else you'd rather be than right here.

Price’s hand cupped the back of your head as his other hand glided up from your thigh to your hip. His thumb skimmed the frayed edge on the hoodie. As though asking for permission. You brought your leg up closer, a silent plea.

He understood your unspoken desire. His hand roamed, stopping briefly to allow a small squeeze of your plush rear, before continuing up your back.

Your hands had their own exploring to do. One hand tangled in his hair, while the other pressed firmly into the strength of his chest. Your fingers lovingly weaved through the blanket of hair that adorned his torso.

His thumb drifted along the curve of your breast before his whole hand found it. That calloused thumb brushing over your nipple, elicited a small moan from your lips. Price smiled into your kiss. Pulling away by only a breath.

Your eyes fluttered open and the expression he wore was one of heavy lidded desire and quiet worship. As though you were a deity to be placed upon an altar.

“Beautiful…” He said on a breath, so quiet you almost didn’t hear it.

Adjusting your both, he lowered you onto the rug, your hair spilling out around you like ink in water as he said, “Let me take my time.”

With your back to the floor, he positioned himself between your legs. You could see the outline of his erection in his boxers from here and desperately wanted to reach out for it. To feel its heat in your palm. But then, he pulled the hoodie up. Revealing your stomach. His lips placed delicate kisses on of it. You arched your back and allowed him to push the fabric up further to reveal your breasts to the glow of the firelight.

His mouth found those with ease too. Slow and soft. As though he intended to kiss every inch of your skin in a show of worship.

Your hands gripped the fabric of the hoodie, bringing it to your mouth and biting down on it as his mouth found your hard and wanting nipple. He sucked and licked and nipped. All the while his hands roamed over your exposed flesh. One of them dipped between your legs and that thumb once again taunted you with its delicate touch. Skimming through your folds until it found your clit.

Your mouth released the fabric of the hoodie to let out a breathy sigh, his name fluttering off your lips like a prayer.

“That’s it…” Price said in between his ministrations of your breast, “Say my name like it's the only thing you know.”

He moved his hands up to completely remove the hoodie. Your body, now entirely bare for him. The fire crackled, a soft soundtrack to the way he stared at you with reverence, each movement unhurried, deliberate. His eyes never left yours, not even as he kissed his way lower, down through the valley of your breasts, over your ribs, pausing to savor every inch.

When he reached the apex of your thighs, his lips parted with anticipation, and then he vanished between your legs.

When his tongue slid through your folds you arched up with a soft gasp. Your hand tangled in his thick hair, the scratch of his beard drawing a sharp, delicious contrast to the warmth of his tongue.

He didn’t rush. No part of him ever did. He explored you slowly, as if he were learning you, memorizing every tremble and sigh.

His name left your mouth again, as though he were deity now. When his lips found your clit, your thighs reflexively clenched around his head. His musing never wavered.

You could barely keep her eyes open, watching the silhouette of his broad shoulders shifting with every movement, his grip firm around your thighs, holding you open, grounding you as you drifted into another plane of existence.

His rhythm was practiced and true. Increasing his momentum with every one of your whimpers until he found the right speed. The one that made both your hands grip his hair. The one that made your back arch and pushed stars into your vision.

A surge of pleasure spread out from your core washed over you. A high pitched cry escaped the back of your throat. Piercing through the night like a firework. You bucked your hips up and clenched around nothing, but Price kept you in place with his firm grip. He didn’t stop his tongue until you had shakingly come down from your high. His eyes, watching you from below like a predator.

Your hands released their grip on his hair and your back relaxed into the rug. Only then did Price pull himself from between your thighs. His forearms were braced on the floor and your legs were lazily hanging from his shoulders.

You glanced down at him and immediately covered your face at the sight of him, “Oh my god…your face…” You said with an embarrassed laugh.

He chuckled, “One of bliss I would imagine.”

You shook your head and peeked at him through your fingers, “No! Your beard…it’s…it's covered in, well…me.”

He laughed wholeheartedly and brought a hand up to wipe his chin. Where a slick and glossy sheen covered his beard.

“Well…” He said in a low baritone, “What a nice problem to have.”

You sat up on your forearms and stared at him as he licked his fingers clean, “Stop that.” You said with a click of your tongue.

He arched a brow at you, “Well, I need to clean it up somehow.”

You gave him a lopsided smile, that didn’t convey the scorn that you wanted, “Maybe you should shave your beard.”

He chuckled, low and menacing, “Not happening…but I think I can make a compromise by just shaving the chin.”

You threw your head back and laughed with your whole chest, “The great Captain Price is actually going to shave part of his beard off?”

Price adjusted himself and crawled up to meet your gaze head on. You stopped your laughs, and bit your bottom lip to fight back your unbridled smile.

“If it means I can taste your sweet cunt every night, then I would.”

Then, he kissed you with a deep and unfiltered passion. One that spoke again of that reverence. The taste of you still lingered on his lips. This time, nothing held you back. Your hand found his throbbing cock through the soft fabric of his boxers, drawn in by the gravity between you, by the promise of more. The moment settled around you both like a secret only the two of you would ever understand.

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agree-to-love

10 months ago

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agree-to-love

5 years ago

eri ✩ episode 86

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agree-to-love

5 years ago

You know what? After the phone call that sounds like the most perfect day to me! I’m glad your fic is almost done too! Were you writing for a character you’ve never written before?! - 💐

Yes, I’m writing for Bakugo. I have honestly never had a huge interest in him. I like the growth in his character development, but he was never my favorite. However, it’s always good to expand one’s horizons.

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agree-to-love

5 years ago

Ahh I love cream cheese bagels too! So good! More questions for you! What kinds of things do you like doing in your spare time?! Whether it’s during spring or not. Also I hope you’re having/had a good day! - 💐

Sadly, I’m a workaholic. I am working from home right now. I write a lot. It’s my favorite hobby, always has been. It’s how I destress. I’m usually watching tv with my husband. We are night owls. He stays up way later than I do, usually playing WOW. Sometimes I play video games too. Like the Kingdom hearts or Uncharted games. I like story telling games.

Like I said before, I like the outdoors too. Hiking and kayaking are my top two. During the summer, I tend to go on really long walks with my dogs. When it’s warm, I try to get out as much as possible. However, winter is the opposite. I’m a true homebody in the winter.

I am having a good day! Hope you are too!

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agree-to-love

3 years ago

Tips for Writing a Difficult Scene

Every writer inevitably gets to that scene that just doesn't want to work. It doesn't flow, no matter how hard you try. Well, here are some things to try to get out of that rut:

1. Change the weather

I know this doesn't sound like it'll make much of a difference, but trust me when I say it does.

Every single time I've tried this, it worked and the scene flowed magically.

2. Change the POV

If your book has multiple POV characters, it might be a good idea to switch the scene to another character's perspective.

9/10 times, this will make the scene flow better.

3. Start the scene earlier/later

Oftentimes, a scene just doesn't work because you're not starting in the right place.

Perhaps you're starting too late and giving too little context. Perhaps some description or character introspection is needed before you dive in.

Alternatively, you may be taking too long to get to the actual point of the scene. Would it help to dive straight into the action without much ado?

4. Write only the dialogue

If your scene involves dialogue, it can help immensely to write only the spoken words the first time round.

It's even better if you highlight different characters' speech in different colors.

Then, later on, you can go back and fill in the dialogue tags, description etc.

5. Fuck it and use a placeholder

If nothing works, it's time to move on.

Rather than perpetually getting stuck on that one scene, use a placeholder. Something like: [they escape somehow] or [big emotional talk].

And then continue with the draft.

This'll help you keep momentum and, maybe, make the scene easier to write later on once you have a better grasp on the plot and characters.

Trust me, I do this all the time.

It can take some practice to get past your Type A brain screaming at you, but it's worth it.

So, those are some things to try when a scene is being difficult. I hope that these tips help :)

Reblog if you found this post useful. Comment with your own tips. Follow me for similar content.

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agree-to-love

4 years ago

Coming into a fandom late

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agree-to-love

5 years ago

Okay I think I’m gonna try a mixture! I don’t often do fluff so we’ll have to try and see how this goes! Do you have any ideas who I might be yet or are you still at a loss?! I’m so excited to gift this fic to you I really do hope you enjoy it and I do the character justice for you! 💕 - 💐

I’m still at a loss. Sorry. I’m really excited to read it! It will be great! I know it!

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agree-to-love

5 years ago

Oooh!!! Bakugou! It sounds like I’ll be enjoying your fic on the 28th too then! I’ll be excited to read it! It’s always fun trying out characters you’re not as confident on. It’s almost like a nice challenge??? I hope you’re feeling well today! - 💐

Well, I hope you also enjoy it! I finished it today! I enjoyed writing it. There was a period where I was getting frustrated, because I wasn’t sure if I was capturing the character. A lot of editing.

Working title: Boom boy wants an invitation

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agree-to-love

5 years ago