Pairing: afab!Reader x oldman!Price, your ex's dad.
Sick of the dating apps and desperate for a real shot at lasting romance, you start chatting up older men in hopes of finding any sons that might be up to your standards. But maybe the man you were meant to end up with was never the boy—it was his father.
Reader Pet Names: darling, dear, sweetheart, sweetie, my girl, baby
Content & Warnings: 18+ MDNI!!! abortion and miscarriage mentioned, cheating, age gap (26f and 50m), slow burn romance, incesty-ish but not really, depressive episodes, breakups and divorce woes, angst, fluff, yearning, smut (PinV, oral, daddy kink, breeding kink).
Music Inspo: Here We Go (Uh Oh) [Remix] By Coco Jones (feat. Leon Thomas)
The Set Up
It Takes Two
Lessons of Lesser Men
Moving In
Moving On
The Problem
The Man You Deserved
Getting It Right
The Talk
Epilogue : Always Meant to Be
THE CASUALNESS OF THAT COLLIE SLIPPING RIGHT OUT OF THEIR COLLAR. That dude is a Willing Participant of this walk and by god everyone else is going to follow the RULES.
Pairing: shy afab!reader × problematic dom!Johnny, ft. Simon
Reader Pet Names: bonnie, birdie
Content & Warnings: car sex, no seat belts, noncon, dubcon, coercion, intimidation, manipulation, humiliation, exhibitionism, voyeurism, begging, smut (fingering, cunnilingus, unprotected PinV, orgasm control, orgasm denial, squirting), bad BDSM etiquette, brating, subspace, cucking?
Word Count: 2.6k
There's a secret signal you give Johnny when you want him.
His libido far outpaces yours, the horndog, so he's made it clear that whenever, wherever he's game. Within reason though, you were a little shy and fucking in pub bathroom was not something you wanted to make a habit of. You had to clarify that the signal didn't necessarily mean, now-now-now, but let's say our goodbyes and leave.
So here you are, in the back of the car day dreaming. Simon was at the wheel and Johnny crowded next to him in the front. It must have been the bumpy countryside road that did it, a good hour of crunching gravel and rumbling from the engine that warmed you up. You snuck a hand through the crevice on the side of the vehicle, finding his hand. Without a word he adjusted in his seat to give you better access to it.
You played with his hand for a few minutes, comforted by his touch more than anything else, stroking up and down his palm and fingers, massaging and mapping all the scars and callouses. After a few minutes, that's when you started making the sign, drawn on the inside of his palm, over and over again until he pulled his hand away. You held in your disappointment, you didn't think he'd recoil from you. He’s never done that before.
Five kilometers down the road, he broke his steadfast stoicism. “Pull over a beat, Si.”
“Dont wanna be late.”
“It'll be quick, don't even have to put it in park,” the Scot sang.
When Simon pulled over, you didn't raise an eyebrow when Johnny stepped out…until he went for the rear door handle and shoved himself inside. You raised your eyebrow then, “Johnny?”
“Drive, Si”
Simon didn't know or really care what Johnny was up to, and he let off the brake rolling back onto the road. He just wanted to arrive at their destination and stretch his legs, on time.
Johnny descended upon you like a landslide. He crammed you back against the door, seatbelt digging into your neck. His lips slotted over yours, stealing your breath and licking into your mouth. Teeth clacking and tongue twisting, he ate away at you. Your head spun and you tried to counter him, and failed. The seatbelt restricted your movements, you were buried alive under the mass of him. A moan bubbled up in your throat but you sealed your lips shut, cutting off his access. You tried again, pushing back on his thick shoulders.
“—Johnny, I didn't…” you pleaded after unsuctioning his mouth from yours.
But he ignored your protest—silenced them really—by pulling your legs apart under your dress and running his fingers through your damp folds, and easing in a finger. “Needed me bad, yeah bon?” His breath curled against your ear, voice thick with lust.
“Really Soap?” Simon interjected.
Johnny began to move torturously in and out, and you tensed around him, trying to push your thighs together. Your brows furrowed and you bit your lip after it fell open in a silent moan. “Not like this,” you hissed and shook your head at him.
Johnny tracked your eyes as they flicked to the driver’s seat and back, he caught your meaning. A devilish smirk spread across his face, “Oh, big fella’s not paying attention, eyes are on the road right.”
Simon offered no response, pretending nothing was going on in his backseat.
It didn't make you feel any better though. There was no privacy here. Just because he wasn't looking, didn’t mean he couldn’t hear, or smell, or feel movement. If he checked his mirrors, he'd see more than enough—more than you wanted. You couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling that Simon was watching, even though you were right behind him and under Johnny.
You captured Johnny’s attention with soft palms on his face, looking like a scared animal searching the eyes of your apex predator. They were overblown, bright blue overshadowed by his appetite. Bargaining with him couldn't sway him, and you tried.
“There’s not gonnae be ‘nough time after we get there, bon. Gotta have you now.” Slipping in another finger, beckoning all your reservations to melt like ice in the summer sun. His fingers had the power of persuasion. Your body betrayed your will, sucking him deeper. A stifled moan climbed up your throat. You squeezed your eyes shut, like that could shut out the world.
It didn’t.
It only made everything worse. His fingers dragged along your walls, and the wet sounds grew louder now. Scratching stubble blistered the swell at your neckline, his mouth hot where your skin was bare. A cold rush followed the wet trail he licked up your throat. The seatbelt pinched and pressed into your waist. Anywhere his mouth wasn’t, the coarse texture of his other hand polished your skin until smooth. The motion-sickening swerve of the car dazed and disoriented you.
Johnny released your seatbelt and you squirmed in place, trying to shrink smaller and sink deeper into the seat and away from him. He retrieved his fingers from your dripping cunt and grabbed your thighs. “Just a taste first,” he said. It was a rough whisper meant only for your ears, but so loud in the small space.
His hands flew, firmly rearranging and folding your limbs like kama sutra origami until your back was against the door and legs pressed to your chest, feet in the air. He rolled your wet panties up and off, never to be found again, and latched onto your cunt. You inadvertently bucked your hips up into his mouth, grinding on his face while he lapped up your slick and sucked on your clit. Vibrations carried to the sensitive bud when he groaned into your pussy. There weren’t any noises to mask the slurping, no music was playing, the engine was drowned out by the obscenity. Your mind fought the pleasure he was causing, breathing gone shaky from holding it.
This was too vulnerable, too exposed, and your self consciousness held you back. The embarrassment burned hot under the weight of Simon's presence. Inescapable, his phantom pressure bore down on you.
Your hand dug into Johnny's mohawk. Gripping at the roots, you tried to pull him off, but it only encouraged him to dig deeper, tongue swirling inside your walls. “That's enough, Johnny,” you urged him to stop, this time with more seriousness and resolve.
He retaliated, biting your tender flesh, teeth sharp and jaw hard enough to make you yelp. Then he came up, nose, lips, and beard shiny with your arousal. The image made your heart kick hard against your ribs, stuttering, and you swore you could feel your own eyes dilate.
His tongue circled his lips, like a dog licking their chops and he rose up on his haunches. Canting forward, he encroached your space, sucking up all the air, and pinning you down with his hungry stare. There was no mistaking the message in his eyes: you weren’t prey, you were possession.
“Nah hurtin’ ya,” he rasped. His breath, humid with your scent, fanned across your face. “An ‘m nah gonnae. But ya gonnae quit with these games and do as you're told,” he growled.
Your stomach churned, anxiety and thrill blending into something molten and foul, something that should not exist at all. It was forbidden and writhing. Whatever happened after this would be nothing but brutal consequences. You didn’t know that he was a steaming bull, all muscle and fury, when you waved your red flag in his direction. It only tempted him to charge.
Johnny sat back, shifting to shove his pants down, thick thighs spread in the middle seat, and he pulled out his cock. He was the perfect size, big, but not too big. Uncut, thick and veiny, with a slight upwards curve and a thick patch of dark hair. You shuddered, the air in your lungs was stuck from the vacuum he left.
Maybe you could placate him with a handjob, you thought. But you silently salivated for something more.
You reached out for him, but Johnny intercepted. Grabbing your arm, he pulled you to him, wrapping an arm around your back. He was strong enough that even in these close quarters he easily scooped you up into his lap. Johnny reached up and tugged down on your neckline, threads popping and ripping, and freeing your braless tits to the humid air.
“Johnny! I just bought this,” you whined.
“Hush. I'll replace it—with one that has better access,” he mumbled. Stubble bit into your skin as he moved from your throat, flaying sensitive skin down to your chest. He licked and pulled each bud until they were hard and rubbed raw, then pushed up your skirt. You throbbed when he notched at your entrance, and he drew his tip through your wetness. “See…know what you need, bon. No need to be shy…We're all friends here.”
A shiver ran down your spine. Facing the back of the car, with only Johnny to fixate on, you almost forgot about Simon. Successfully seduced to the point of putting on a show for his best friend. You tensed back up again, just in time for Johnny to shove himself inside.
Tears rose up from the stretch and the car filled with the sounds of sex; the wet, rhythmic slap of skin against skin, the creak of the leather seats, Johnny's rough grunts. You braced your hands on his chest, nails digging into the fabric of his shirt as he used your body, driving up into your heat with animalistic force, pushing through the squeeze of your cunt.
Some hidden part of you didn’t just want this — it reveled in it, thrilled at how rough and mean he was to you, how he treated you like something to be taken rather than asked for. The rest of you scattered, shutting doors, silencing your own noises as if hiding from yourself. The air inside you pressurized, tight and scalding, until you could feel every pulse in your body screaming for release. In the end you broke, your hips rolling of their own accord, taking him in and moving against him like you’d been starved for it.
A small part of you didn’t just want this, it delighted in how rough and mean he was to you. Johnny had never treated you like something to be taken rather than asked for. The air inside you pressurized, tight and scalding, until you could feel every pulse in your body screaming for release. In the end you broke, your hips rolling of their own accord, but you still held back, because Simon was still there, seeing, sensing, and hearing.
“You wanna come bon?”
You nod, half drunk.
“Ask Simon if you can come.”
Like a record scratch, it ripped you back to your reality. “What? No!” you whined like a spoiled child.
“Can’t come til he gives permission.”
“No.”
His hand cracked down on your rear and winced in pain. He spanked you because you were being a stubborn brat about it now and his would be the firm hand that set you right. “Not gonnae make you come if ya don't want…” His hands gripped either side of your hips, so tight, fat spilled from between his spread fingers and he fucked you however he wanted, punishing you for defiance, controlling the pace, the rhythm, the angle. “Gettin off in your cunt either way.”
Your orgasms were like a lock, if you didn’t have the key, you had to be talented enough to pick it to release it. Johnny was a skilled locksmith when it came to you, but he cast aside all his delicate tools of the trade, picking up a sledge hammer instead.
Your eyes rolled to the back and lighting coursed through your body. Even when he avoided your sweet little spots on the inside of your walls, he was too big not to graze them by accident. He came inside, unashamed and loud, and pulled you right off, riding his high without you wrapped around him.
His dick was coated and glistening. It twitched while the tip kept oozing, leaking down to his balls. You wanted to clean him off—that was your job. A realization dawned on you and him from the way you looked at his dripping cock, you were losing yourself in this. You wanted Johnny to fuck you more than you needed air to breathe. You were so close, built up and crazed, tears threatening to spill.
“Johnny—”
“Wrong lad, bon.”
You whimpered.
“Shush. ‘M still hard. Got one more for you, can hop back on—” he grabbed your face, the motion jerks a single tear free, dropping onto his shirt “—if Simon says,” he finalized with a shit eating grin.
You sniffle. “Why can’t you just…” you pouted. “I don't want to with him here.”
His expression soured on you, temper flaring, and he corrected you again with a strike to your rear. That hurt the most and you could feel a handprint shaped heart beat on your ass.
“That’s impolite. Ghost’s been nice enough to let me fuck you in his car.” His fingers threatened to bruise where he gripped your waist and rubbed to soothe your backside. “Now apologize.”
You didn’t have to obey if you didn’t want to, but you surrendered when Johnny brought a hand up to draw lazy circles on your clit, making your tired legs wobble. He rubbed harder, making you stutter though the apology. “‘M sorry, Simon. Didn’t mean to be rude or hurt your feelings.” Johnny encouraged you to keep going with a nod. “And it won’t happen again. Please forgive me.”
You said all of this staring into Johnny’s unkind eyes, lip trembling and tears streaking down.
“It's always polite to ask when you're a guest,” Johnny teased. And so you begged his best mate for permission to be fucked by him. The question came out in whispers at first, until Johnny brought another hand down on your rear and you spoke up properly. “Please Simon, can I-”
“Yes. Go for it” weak and rough
Your skin erupted in goosebumps and waves of sensation rolled all the way down to your toes. A filthy deep moan rolled from your throat, the loudest you’d been this entire time. The light in your eyes changed, focused on rebuilding your ruined orgasm.
Johnny filled you back up with his aching cock, this time exactly how you needed. He watched you adjust your stance on the back seat to ride him more enthusiastically, breast bouncing in his face with every thrust. It was too tempting not to rub his face into them, gnawing at the flesh and burning them sensitive with his beard.
“Can feel you're close, bon. Know what to do?”
You licked your lips, you were drooling. Beads of sweat coated your body, exertion began to take its toll and your steady rhythm stumbled.
“Simon,” you whined for him. “Can I come for you?” you panted.
Johnny whispered praises in your ear and rubbed circles on your clit as a reward while you kept throwing yourself on him. Over your shoulder, he caught Simon white-knuckling the steering wheel. “One more time, bonnie thing. Make it count,” he cooed sweetly in your ear.
For the first time, you craned your neck to get Simon in your periphery. “Please, please, sir,” you stuttered. Johnny arched an eyebrow, you never called him sir like that. “Am I allowed to come, sir?”
He held his tongue, like he might refuse to answer at all, until his breath rattled out and broke it. “Christ—shut her up, Johnny.” The words hit harder than he meant, rough and laced with frustration.
“You're the only one that can give the order, sir.” Johnny was sweating, you were going to draw blood with your nails and choke his cock off if you got any closer.
Simon audibly sighed. The confirmation tore from him, more confession than consent, through gritted teeth. “Yeah, birdie. You can come.”
You slammed down one more time and came, crying and whining, legs shaking, dripping and spraying all over Johnny. He reached so far up inside you, it hit the off button on your brain. Lights out.
Inspired by real events and real delusions.
Content & Warnings: 18+ MDNI!!! DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT: hardcore(?) bdsm, dubcon, somno, bondage, degradation, dom/sub, cnc, free use, rough sex, punishments, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, traffic light color system, safewords, use of safewords, subspace, dirty talk, spanking, spitting, slapping, breeding, PinV, creampie, implied cunnilingus, fingering, choking, manhandling, implied aftercare, possessiveness, biting, bloody lips, bruising, marking.
Simon came home early from his mission, having no interest in living to see another sunset or sunrise without you next to him. He wanted to sleep in the soft bed you kept for him, even if it meant zombie walking himself home. You flew out of the bedroom to plaster him with kisses, surveying for new injuries while he unlaced his boots. His ungloved hands gently took your tiny ones, bringing them to his lips. A kiss is pressed to your ring, and he halts. His eyes flick to yours, cold and dark.
Shit, you've been caught.
His grip turns rock hard.
“What's this now?” And he shoves your three middle fingers into his mouth, inhaling deeply, biting down at the base of them.
You tried to pull away, but between his teeth and his arm locked around you, there was no escape. He bit down harder, wet velcro muscle sliding and twirling between each digit, sucking on the tips of your fingers before letting them go, and leaving teeth marks. You’re in trouble now.
“Know that taste anywhere, love.” There's fire in his eyes, but not a hint of warmth despite their redness. “Playing with my pussy without me. Without permission.” He tuts at you. “And here I was gonna to reward you for being a good loyal girl. Know you're not s’posed to touch yourself while I’m gone...” His voice was monotone, but he couldn't disguise the calculation and disappointment loaded in his words.
Your face scorched hot, “I—”
“Look I'm tired and not in a proper state of mind to punish you, so let's just sleep for now.”
You dropped your eyes and nodded.
He brought a hand up underneath your chin forcing you to look at him. “‘M not angry, know you missed me,” he sweetened his tone up for you, but you didn’t quite believe him deep down. “Come to bed, we'll discuss your punishment in the morning,” and he led you into the bedroom. Tucked into his side, you fell hard against him, drifting blissfully asleep, reunited with your husband.
......
Simon was moving, a light sleeper. It sometimes took him a few days to adjust back to a regular schedule. It was still dark on the other side of your eyelids, but you could hear the faint beginnings of birdsong as you stirred to partial consciousness, just enough to roll over or flip the pillow to the cooler side if you wanted. Your arms felt numb and heavy and your legs were fuzzy, a sign of a damn good dead sleep.
A wash of cold air activated goosebumps shivering across your skin.
Wait. Where did your pajamas go?
You jerked awake, thrashing, but your arms locked you down in place. They were tied above your head to the headboard, but your feet were free. You strained your neck to look around.
“Good, you're awake.”
You exhaled a deep sigh of relief knowing he was there, but a splash of fear doused your insides. Flight or fight kicked in and you tugged at your restraints on instinct, a sharp pain shot through to your left shoulder. The ropes weren't too tight or painful on your skin, as long as you didn't struggle. Usually if Simon tied you up, it was just your hands together in front or behind, but he also had only ever done so when you were awake.
“I've decided what your punishment is going to be.”
A stone dropped into the pit of your stomach and your heart started racing again. You were scared in a sense, not of being hurt, but of the unknown. Anticipation.
“Remember your safeword and colors?”
You nodded, “yes sir.”
“Are your restraints comfortable enough? Do I need to adjust them before I start?”
“They're okay. I'll tell you if it changes but—” He silenced you with a firm hand over your mouth, fingertips digging painfully into the fat of your cheeks and mandible.
“No more speaking out of turn. Don't make me gag you so we can be safe, pet.” There was something haunting about him, ominous in a way you didn't often get to experience. Primal hunger was the only emotion you could make out in the dark, but his voice kept it leashed in chains of unpolished steel.
“Might need your words for this, best to save them.” Simon moved wordlessly into position and began.
.....
Between his hands and mouth you were three orgasms deep in subspace now; lethargic and moaning, legs shaking like a leaf while he barreled you into a fourth, noises growing more and more inhuman.
Your punishment was the restraints. Hands in rope jail, locked up for crimes committed. Guilty as sin, stinking of sex. They robbed him, stole from him. A pair of thieving criminals that touched what wasn't theirs. Masterminds in their own rite, needy and greedy. They loved to trace and tangle up inside him, make him weak for you, pull him close, tell him how and where you wanted to please him. He couldn't allow you to play unfair this time and turn the tables of your own punishment.
After your fourth, you were drenched and slick, chest heaving. He got up to fetch a towel and repositioned you top of it, fluffy terry cloth material felt like sandpaper scratching your buzzing skin. There was a dull sting in your muscles, tight from tensing, a sharp contrast to the fiery meltdown of your pussy, and the rest of your senses were jacked up to the highest sensitivity setting. Simon checked your hands and the knots that tethered them to the headboard, you wiggled your fingers to show they were feeling okay. He gave you a sip of water and you wheezed your color, then he climbed between your legs once more.
Simon did not ease himself into you, this was a punishment. Ropes, overstimulation, and a rough unforgiving dicking down. As greedy as your cunt was, it struggled to take his massive size, clamping down before he could take his rightful place inside you. Possession clutched at your throat and jaw, spit in your mouth instead of kissing you, slapped your tits, called you a whore, and made bruises with his fingerprints, until he could force the rest of his cock all the way in.
Simon grunted, fucking you raw and hard. “Fuck this pussy back into the shape o’ me. Remind her who she belongs to.” His harsh thrusts made your body lurch, adding slack to your ties, breasts bouncing, flesh rippling from impact. The taste of iron leaked onto your tongue from biting your lip to keep words from forming. The sound of skin smacking, lewd squelching, and your moans filled the bedroom. He knew your body was primed for your next orgasm, walls fluttering and body jolting like an earthquake. Reaching down, he furiously rubbed your clit and bullied your g-spot with his tip until it sent shockwaves of prickly pleasure through you. “Cream my cock, slut. S'what you wanted innit?”
The only reason you were coming at all was because he wanted you to. You didn't beg him to stop despite the overstimulation that forced tears to down your face and your muscles to spasm. You loved to turn boneless and brainless for him to use. You needed him to be whole and he provided the hard structure you needed to go soft around him. Yin and yang.
“Gonna make you come so many times you can't come without me.” His plan was to ruin you for everyone else. As if he hadn't already done that and married you because of it.
“You promised me you would wait. How am I supposed to trust you when I'm not around?” He looked down at you with a sneer, knowing how to tug on your heartstrings and summon tears.
“Won't happen again, sir. I'm so sorry,” you whimpered.
Simon pulled out of you so fast it gave you reverse whiplash, like being turned inside out. The air that he'd been beating out of your lungs finally rushed back in, filling you with enough oxygen to get you high and floaty. His big hands slapped down, roughly gripped your hips and flipped you onto your front, ropes twisting in place. He pulled your hips up and shoved his cock back inside. Fingers hooking into the softest parts of your waist, he pulled you back to meet his violent thrusts, hitting deep enough to make you gasp.
“Like hell it won't, slag. Can't follow simple directions.” Simon punctuated his words with the heavy crack of his hand on your rear, and he laid a few more into you before you convulsed around him. Head buried face-first into the mattress, your tears stained the sheets, and you gasped for what little air you could find. Your legs were liquid and couldn’t support you anymore, so he tightened his grip and held up your hips. He kept fucking you while you rag-dolled, body collapsing under his relentless brutality and the extreme euphoria forced into you by another mind-altering orgasm.
Your hips fell helplessly off his cock when he let go. One day he's going to blow your back out, paralyze you, and keep fucking you anyways. Sick freak. Your back was sore from his trusts compressing your spine and the angle of the arch he bent you into. You relaxed what you could into the comforts of your bedding, rubbing your thighs together, toes curling and cracking. His broad hands came up to your face, one moved hair out of the way, and the other applied a bone-crushing grip to your jaw, forcing you to look at him.
“Color?”
There was none in his eyes. With his bottomless stamina, he could keep you tied up like his personal sex toy and use you for days. He hadn't finished once in the hour (hours?) since the session started, and you knew he had to be aching for release. You twitched in your restraints, but the silken bite from the rope couldn't overide how much you wanted to touch him and coax him to come. You'd do anything to make that happen.
“Green.”
He pulled your ankles apart and slot in to fuck you prone. You moaned and your eyes rolled to the back of your head when he stuffed his fat cock in you again. Each position hit a little different, this time the tingling radiated in your kidneys when he pounded you from the back, dislodging every broken breath from your lungs. He was reaching depths that only he could navigate. Only he knew what buttons to press and strokes to place to have you unraveling.
A hand wormed its way underneath to press above your pubic bone. “Another,” he commanded. On cue, the band tightened and snapped. You exploded while he fucked you with abandon, squirting and shaking, choking on sobs, while he crammed you full. “That's it, filthy slut. Didn't put a towel down for nothin’.”
Simon pulled away from you once more and moved you onto your back. Your fluids were dripping wet down his cock, he flexed or twitched and it bobbed in the air. He was leaking precum and his pubic hair was slicked down and frothy from your previous climbaxes.
“Clean me off.” He walked himself closer to your face and touched the tip of him to your swollen lips, and you greedily sucked him into your mouth, worshiping with your tongue. It was salty, and sweet, and sticky when it transferred and dried on your face. His hands cradled the back of your head forcing you to take more than you were ready for.
Tears welled up, drool filled up your mouth, and you struggled to switch to breathing through your nose. He pulled you off by your hair, saw the glassy eyed expression on your face, and scowled. “Cock drunk whore enjoyed being face fucked too much. Can't have that.”
Simon moved back to between your legs, using the towel to wipe off the arousal that spilled from your bullied hole and coated your thighs. A smack of his hand sent a sharp shock to your blistering clit, then a couple fingers scooped some of your cum from your core and reapplied it to work the hard bud rapidly back and forth with the rough pads of his fingers.
Your body panicked, stuttering breath and hacking up your lungs. It hurt. It burned. It was too much.
The overstimulation caught up with you and you felt only pain. Your eyes went wide, “yellow-ow-ow-ow,” you cried. And Simon backed off your poor sensitive clit.
He trailed a hand down one of your trembling legs, his touch gentler than before. Normally he would reward you for using your colors, but that would have to wait until after he finished playing with you. “You should be thanking me for this, letting you come so many times. What is it seven? No...it would have been, but you just couldn't handle it. What happened to my greedy girl?”
You writhed where words failed, seeking any form of solace on your supercharged skin, but everywhere he touched blazed and scratched instead. The world spun around you, like the forever falling feeling of intoxication.
“But you're not done till I say so,” he whispered in your ear. “You're mine. Any orgasm you have belongs to me.”
He grabs your face again, squishing your cheeks, bringing your eyes to connect with his again, and with the other he worked his fingers back inside, starting with two, then three, targeting that spot that turned your vision dark. Your clit was too painful, so he'd have to be rough with you in other ways, and he knew your cunt could take a beating better than anything else, so resilient and hungry for attention. It's what drove you to break the rules in the first place.
But if you never broke the rules, then he'd never have cause to punish you. It was all fun and games as long as you didn't make a bad habit of it.
You were on the ropes now, beat up, bruised, and broken. His favorite little toy, marked and strung up in red for him. Fuck he was so hard for you, fighting his own release. He loosened his hold on your face. “Open.” And your tongue lazily rolled out of your parted lips. He spit, your walls pulled tight around his fingers, and you swallowed dutifully. “There she is. Go on. Take it then.” Your legs tensed and your mouth hung wide open, eyes fluttering shut, while you rode another wave of pleasure on his thick fingers.
Before you had a chance to fall back to earth, he ripped his fingers out and stuffed them in your mouth. He bent down to leave bite marks down your chest, on your breasts, stomach, and down to your hips. Your lips curled around licking and biting down on his thick fingers, gagging down when he shoved them deeper over your tongue to the back of your throat. You closed your eyes and tears escaped out the corners, savoring the taste of yourself on his skin. He pulled them out and you released them with a wet pop, licking your chapped lips after.
Simon molded your lifeless lower body to him next. “You don't even deserve the cum I'm gonna pump you full of. Was saving it up just for you.” He slid all the way into your aching heat, lunging closer. Taking your lips into his mouth only to bite down on them, tasting the dried blood from your earlier split lip, he chewed and pulled at the tender flesh till it split again. It was not a forgiving kiss, and he let himself enjoy it a little too much, groaning deep enough for the vibrations to pass from his chest into yours. Releasing your face, your head dropped back onto the bed, bracketed by your weak arms.
His grip moved to encircle your neck and waist, pinning you in place while he fucked you breathless. You felt him up in your ribs, piercing your diaphragm. He was a lump in your throat that couldn't be swallowed down. Your pulse hammered beneath his grip as you came once more, eyes rolling back and wet heat sucking him deeper. You were scraped like a fur hide being turned into leather, stretched thin across the universe. Head in the clouds was too grounded of an expression to process, let alone comprehend.
.....
You must have blacked out, or died and come back to life. When you came to, your legs were thrown over Simon's shoulders, knees pressed to your shoulders. He was splitting you in half with his cock, and drunk on the sweet friction. A static cling consumed your hands and feet but slowly dissipated.
“Maybe I otta get you ol’ big and round with my kid so you can't touch yourself wi’out me. Huh?” He splays his hand under your belly button pressing down on his cock moving inside while you gush around him. “Want me to fuck a fat baby in you to keep you busy while I'm gone?” Making no effort to hit your sweet spot, in a trance, he watched himself breach your depths, brutalizing your cervix with each thrust. He knew what he was doing. “You like that? Pussy so tight on me, like she wants to be bred. Come on, I know you wanna be full.”
He was sweaty and panting over you. The wet sounds of sticky skin slapping proved there was already a thick mess running down your crack.
How many times had he come inside you? You didn't get to feel him twitching inside while he filled you with his first load or hear him groan at his peak when he lost himself inside of you.
Another punishment, worse than all the others. Now you really saw things. How could you be so selfish? You sniffled, lip quivering, tears welling. “Sorry—so sorry—love—you.” Your voice was hoarse.
Simon shushed your sweet sobs, “That's right. Let it out.” He tipped you over the edge with more dirty words, “One last time, just to make sure it takes.”
After your ninth, he took your hands down, undoing the ropes, massaging blood flow back into them, and easing the ebbing tension from the prolonged stretch. For the first part of aftercare, he made the sweet kind of welcome home love to you in the warmth of sunrise that spilled over your bed. Kissing you languid and deep, praising you, driving his spend deeper into you, slowly rolling his hips against your clit just how you liked, kind and soft hands caressing until you came together by design.
Ten times you came, he counted. A record for you sure, but to him each one meant something more. One for each week he was gone. One for each month until your baby would arrive. One for every carat in your wedding ring. One for each deployment you've welcomed him home from.
(Eleven would actually kill you though, so it might be for the best to not let him catch you next time.)
Inspired by real events and real delusions.
Content & Warnings: +18 MDNI!!! established relationship, smut (morning sex, somno, blow job, 69, cunnilingus, fingering, cum eating).
Morning would start the same way every day if it could. Dull light spilled through the curtains, beckoning you to shore from your dreams. You came to, wrapped around your husband, cheek pressed against his chest, drooling. Delicately, you ran fingers through the hair on the pecs and up his neck to caress the stubble on his cheek. It was a lazy Sunday morning, but he would be up soon. You were tuned to the same frequency, so in sync that even fate might hesitate to draw a line.
He made a little groan so you followed his chest hair back down this torso, over his belly to tease his happy trail and the waistband of his shorts. Eyes stayed on his innocently sleeping face when you slipped under the fabric to palm him. He was half hard and you carefully worked him up with soft slow strokes, watching for any signs of consciousness and pressing little kisses to his chest. When his eyebrows pinched together, just a flicker before relaxing back to neutral, you pulled back off his chest to get a mouthful.
It laid heavy on your tongue as you lightly sucked, getting it slick and relaxing your jaw before you tried moving. With one hand anchored at the base, you slowly eased up and down on him, until your lips could touch your hand. Tongue swirling in time with your hand, you bobbed in a steady rhythm, taking him a little deeper each time, spit drooling down his balls.
A wet heat pulled at him and twisted his dreams. Johnny started moaning and nodding his head, not even fully awake. His voice rumbled deep, suffocated by his drowsiness, “Bonnieee, ugh.”
He opened his eyes to a tightening in his core, bucking his hips into your mouth. His hands shot down to cup your head as it went down on him. The sight of his sweet insatiable wife sucking him off triggered a rush of endorphins. Extra blood surged in his cock and he pulsed inside, captured by your plush lips and tongue.
Johnny had to do something. He leaned forward and reached your lower half. Tugging you closer, he slid a finger into your dripping hole. It was futile to wear underwear to bed, your husband was always ripping them off. He curled his finger over that one spot which had you moaning on his dick and his eyes rolling back. The finger came out, coated your arousal, and he grunted as he sucked the digit clean.
He motioned for you again, dragging you away and you released him from your mouth to question. “On my face, love. Need to taste ya,” he answered, arranging your legs into place over him. Two hands gripped your hips, and he pulled them down to make out sloppy with your pussy. You groaned and rocked onto his face, while his tongue explored through your folds, lapped at your clit, and dove inside your core.
It was so good and you got lost in it for a minute until your eyes landed on his neglected penis, flushed and dripping pre on his belly. Licking your lips, you braced yourself on his muscled thighs to lean down and take him deep. Your tongue laved on his salty taste, massaging and mapping every bugging vein as his tip nudged the back of your throat.
Johnny's hands repositioned. One arm wrapping up to press his palm against your tailbone, keeping your flush to his hungry mouth. The other snaked down to rest on the back of your head, gently pushing you all the way down. Motions synchronized so that he fucked your throat the same way he plunged his tongue into your walls and you swallowed arround his cock the like how you clenched on his tongue. You spurred each other on like that, fucking each other and racing to the finish line. Loser would make breakfast.
He came first, deep and safe down your throat. Each rope of cum sent shockwaves through him, hips sputtering, and he growled into your pussy when you sucked him dry through it all. It left him gasping, and only able to suck in air fragranced with your sweet scent.
His mind had gone haywire, “You suck cock like a champ, bon. C’mere, lemme kiss ya.” Johnny sat up and you climbed around, breathing carefully through your nose. Before leaning into the kiss, you showed him your tongue. It was coated thick with part of his load you hadn't swallowed. Black had long since eclipsed the blue in his eyes. “Fuck me bon, that’s…,” his hand cupped your jaw before drawing you for a nasty kiss.
Holding you tight, hands pawing at your bodies while you tasted yourselves in the other's mouth. While your tongues tangled and lips mashed, Johnny finally brought a hand down between you and thrust two thick fingers inside. They curled deep and stroked until you were fluttering from the fill. You ground down, fucking yourself on him and moaned into his mouth when he brough a thumb up to rub wet circles on your clit.
Only a few more strokes and he conjured the orgasm from you. Muscles spasming and body shaking, waves of pleasure crested inside, filling your bones with hot liquid. When the tide pulled back, it left you breathing heavy into each other and slumped against your husband’s chest once more.
Luxuriating in each other’s touch, strong limbs intertwined and shared their burning comforts. Hearts pounded as one and slowed together in tandem. Just one more breath, one more heartbeat, you wished, bartering the sun for another minute of his shoulder beneath your cheek. The world hums low beyond the curtains, but here, the clock forgets itself like the sheets pooled at the foot of the bed. The morning had already risen, but morning would come again.
"I don't write my draft before I start writing, I simply write, and then if I don't like it, I edit it, and when I say I'm done, I UPLOAD IT. I AM NOT WRITING THAT SHIT AGAIN."
im supposed to be prioritizing one of them because I want to start posting in January (for multiple reasons) but I keep getting sidetracked by other wips and getting writer's block.
