Ghost: Isn't the whole life saving thing supposed to be "you saved my life, now I owe you a debt?"
Y/N: Nope, other way around. You saved my life so now I'm your problem
Y/N: God wanted me dead and now you get to find out why
simon and reader who has a hard time sleeping (nsfw):
simon wakes up when he hears you turning around, slipping away from his arms.
"go back to sleep love..." he mumbles, his voice deeper than usual, big hands reaching out for your waist, pulling you into his arms again.
"i can't..." you whisper, turning around and burying your face in his chest, a bit sad that you woke him up.
simon knows the drill, he has done this countless times before and he will gladly do it over and over again.
gently, he turns around so your back lays kn the bed, his bulky arms keeping you caged under him. "i'll take care of that lovie, don't worry"
and that night can go different ways, simon pounding you until you are tired, simon esting you out until you pass out, simon using his fingers as he whispers sweet nothings into your ear.
the list goes on, but when he is done, you are sleeping soundly in his arms, inner thighs soaked, a pretty blush on your cheeks and a soft smile on your lips.
I love the head cannon that Ghost likes to stare a lot. Not at anything in particular, just staring.
Then he realizes that he really likes staring at you. He's fucking you in missionary, basically rocking both of your bodies and the bed with each deep and heavy thrust, putting his body weight into it. He's got his large hands planted beside your head, maybe your legs clenching on and off his hips as he thrusts.
Between your moaning and his fat dick making your pussy drool, you don't notice him staring into your face, huffing and groaning every now and then but otherwise quiet.
Between your moaning and crying about how good he feels, grasping onto his thick wrists for support as he pounds, you finally acknowledge him staring into your eyes.
"S... Simon?" You say breathlessly, being a little confused.
He stares a little longer before realizing what he's doing and shakes out of it, leaning down so your faces are right against each other, but not quite touching, slowing his thrusts down into a deeper, more loving pace, "You're fuckin' beautiful..." He whispers.
He captures your lips before you respond, not that you could with the way he's fucking and loving you.
His thrusts get sloppier, still deep and hard, his tongue intertwining with yours messily. You couldn't believe how much you turned him on by just being looked at.
Nor could he, yet here he was, groaning as one thick hand wrapped around the back of your neck, kissing you harder as he cums ropes inside of you.
I love the head cannon that Ghost likes to stare a lot. Not at anything in particular, just staring.
Then he realizes that he really likes staring at you. He's fucking you in missionary, basically rocking both of your bodies and the bed with each deep and heavy thrust, putting his body weight into it. He's got his large hands planted beside your head, maybe your legs clenching on and off his hips as he thrusts.
Between your moaning and his fat dick making your pussy drool, you don't notice him staring into your face, huffing and groaning every now and then but otherwise quiet.
Between your moaning and crying about how good he feels, grasping onto his thick wrists for support as he pounds, you finally acknowledge him staring into your eyes.
"S... Simon?" You say breathlessly, being a little confused.
He stares a little longer before realizing what he's doing and shakes out of it, leaning down so your faces are right against each other, but not quite touching, slowing his thrusts down into a deeper, more loving pace, "You're fuckin' beautiful..." He whispers.
He captures your lips before you respond, not that you could with the way he's fucking and loving you.
His thrusts get sloppier, still deep and hard, his tongue intertwining with yours messily. You couldn't believe how much you turned him on by just being looked at.
Nor could he, yet here he was, groaning as one thick hand wrapped around the back of your neck, kissing you harder as he cums ropes inside of you.
Most of your friends were already making their way home, but you decided to wait for your brother to pick you up as he was hanging out with his own friends nearby. But half an hour passed and he still wasn't there. It was only when you ordered another drink that he called you to say his car broke down and you should take a cab home.
With a groan, you took a sip of your cocktail and browsed your phone to see if you could call anyone. Being alone at home didn't sound like fun, but no one seemed to be available. Your ex, maybe, but he was trying too hard to get you back despite the terrible things he had done to you.
This guy who was tall and muscular, almost comically huge, sat on the bar stool next to you and watched you with a small smile, studying your every move as if you were under a microscope. You bit the inside of your cheek, suddenly unsure of what you should do now, because a part of you wanted to get away from this scary man, but there was another part, a much weaker and curious part that wanted to find out what he wanted.
âSo you need a ride home?â he asked casually while he pointed at his empty glass and asked for another round of beer.
Was he listening to your conversation? What a creep. âI'll manage, thank you.â
He let out a deep laugh. âI wasn't offering to take you home. I drank a few beers so I don't drive tonight,â he informed you.
A responsible man. What a nice change. Some of your friends would hop in a car without hesitation. But if he wasn't offering a ride, what did he want from you? Before you could ask him, he typed something into his phone and put it in front of you.
âThey specialize in taking women home at night. Female drivers only,â he told you, then took a big sip of his drink.
So he was trying to help you? âThanks,â you said slowly as you opened the website on your phone. âWhy are you helping me?â
âCan't risk a pretty thing like you getting in trouble on the way home.â He kept a pause, watching your surprised expression with an amused smile. âMy friend's sister uses this method in Scotland. They can be found in all major cities in the UK.â
Only now did you notice those charming amber eyes of his, surrounded by long blond lashes. There was a scar on his chin, his nose looked like it had been broken at least once in his life, but these flaws made him strangely handsome. You felt a strong need to pry for information about him, to find out what he did for a living or if he had anyone waiting for him at home.
He finished the rest of his beer then stood up, not leaving you time to start a conversation now that you considered him trustworthy. âI'd better get going. Stay safe.â
The next time you met him was in the gym.
When you entered, there he was, having a chat with a guy at the reception, not noticing you until he heard you speak to the receptionist next to them. You asked for a monthly pass, but only then realized you left your bag in the car, the only thing you had was your duffel bag on your shoulder.
âIâm sorry, give me a few minutes, I'll go grab my stuff from the car,â you told the young woman with an apologetic smile.
âLizzie, let me take care of it,â the man from the bar spoke up, pulling out his phone from the pocket of his jeans to pay.
You quickly shook your head and reached out to push his hand away. âNo need, I park right outside, I will beââ
But he interrupted you with a smile. âDon't worry about it, love.â
It was clear that arguing would be pointless, so you nodded and quietly thanked him. Once he paid and you finished the registration, he said goodbye to his friend, then began to walk to the locker rooms with you on his side.
âFirst time here?â he asked as he looked down at you. You nodded. âNeed someone to work out with? I have fun helping newbies.â
âI went to another gym until now, but the new owner ruined the place,â you explained.
He let out a thoughtful hum. âThen why did you ask for the personal training option?â
âHaving someone to push me helps.â
âLike I said, I'll gladly help. Cheaper than a personal trainer,â he added when he stopped in front of your destination with his arms crossed. âCome on, let's change then meet here. If you don't like it, you can ask for a personal trainer.â
You agreed with a defeated sigh. When you saw him a few minutes later in a pair of basketball shorts and a tank top, you couldn't help but gulp. You knew he was in a good shape, but those muscles made you weak. He looked like an ancient Greek god, a sight that burned into your brain and you knew you would have some dirty dreams at night.
As it turned out in the following hour, he was right. Working out with him was good, he was truly patient and doing rounds together helped you focus on your goal. So you agreed to meet again in a few days, and you found out his name was Simon.
After a week or two, he asked if you wanted to have a drink with him in the pub where you met. He paid for everything. Then the drink turned into dinner. Once again, he paid for the meal. Then he bought you smart watch since you didn't have one, saying you needed one to track your workout. Then he got you new earbuds. âThe ones you have are a piece of crap, this is way better,â he explained the purchase.
But if you put these gifts aside, you had to realize he was a truly nice guy. A little rough around the edges, sure, but once he warmed up to you, he acted like a real guard dog. Some guy tried to flirt with you despite you already saying you weren't interested? He would be by your side in a second and ask, âIs everything all right, love?â Whoever tried to bother you left right away.
You began to fall for him, but you didn't want to ruin whatever you had going on. Maybe with time he would make a move on you. Maybe he would show any sign of his interest in you.
But when he rented you an apartment after your landlord broke your lease, keeping a set of keys to make sure you could ask for them in the event of losing your own, you realized this was something you would have never expected to happen. You became a sugar baby.
One of the most embarrassing moments for a woman, is when she unexpectedly gets her period. No pads or tampons to help save her. So sitting in the bathroom of the pub you and the task force were celebrating at was anything but ideal. You were at the bar ordering a drink when the slippery feeling began to grow between your legs. You knew it wasnât arousal (even though Simon sat beside you the whole time) but it was also too early to get your period.
the way your eyes widened as you felt it drip down your leg and spread across your thighs brought nothing but embarrassment to your face, seeing a small drop of blood drip onto the floor beneath your skirt. Quickly running off to the bathroom, you locked yourself in a stall and let out small choked sobs. Many would say itâs natural, and you know it. But that doesnât stop anyone from feeling embarrassed about what happened. You pulled out your phone and sent some quick texts to the first person in your contacts - âSi Pieđ«¶đ„§ â
-âAsk a waitress for a padâ 16:09
-âplease quicklyâ 16:10
sitting and waiting might have been worse than seeing the bloody mess on your thighs and down your legs. But when you heard the bathroom door open and then close, you expected a woman to slip you a pad that Simon gave her under the door, but instead there were Salomon hiking boots and a deep voice.
âopen up, love.â The low voice brought comfort, stuffing your panties with tissue quickly and the pulling your skirt down to open the door.
the moment you saw his eyes soften at you under the balaclava, you broke out into tears once again. He gently pulled you into his arms and rubbed your sides to soothe you. âNo need to feel embarrassed, aârigh? Just clean yerself up ând weâll go back out together.â
listening to him, you went back into the stall, cleaned yourself up to the best of your abilities and then walked out to see Simon leaning against a wall. He motioned for you to walk ahead, gently placing a hand on your lower back to massage away some cramps. Once back at the booth, there was a glass of water in your spot. Everyone continued to chatter, as did you, feeing yourself ease up as Simon linked his arm around you and rubbed your lower tummy.
through the mask, slobbering on his hands and knees like the mutt he truly is; like his only salvation is the ichor that drips between your thighs. like your cunt is the only thing that could save his wretched, blackened soul. he wants to roll in the tang that'll stay on the back of his tongue for weeks into deployment, that'll stay soaked into the fabric of his balaclava because fok no he isn't washing it before he leaves (he'll nearly tears the thing to shreds when he can no longer smell you on it).
large, calloused palms scratch over the sensitive skin of your quads and inner thighs as he opens you up for him, watches your folds part like that of a carnation (love, devotion, distinction, fascination) as he pushes your knees up to your chest. drags his tongue all over you, the creases where your vulva and thighs meet and gets you shaking before he's even touched your clit. before he's even taken the mask off. brushes his thumb over the little bud reverently, fondly. he thinks the way your thighs tremble in response is the most precious fucking thing.
and when he finally breaks watching you drip onto the cushions below, he's feral. rabid. barely gets the damned mask up to free his mouth before he's on you again, slurping up your slick and sucking your clit into his mouth. the suction is heavenly after so much teasing, and if his tongue finds its way to your ass too, that's his business. your toes curl in the air where your feet dangle uselessly, panties you're sure that simon will pocket later still around one ankle.
simon's relentless when he's like this, a dog chasing after it's favorite toy. he won't let up, won't even palm over his cock until you're at least three climaxes deep from his mouth alone. totally pussydrunk and ready for more.
simonâs never been one for naps. never seen the point in them really, heâs spent too many years on high alert and ready to move at a moments notice to indulge in them. scoffs when johnny jokes about him not needing sleep. thereâs a million other things i could be doing in that time, he grumbles.
but when he meets you, simon starts to see the allure.
he finds you curled up on the couch in the rec room one day tucked into your blanket and just stares for a moment. thereâs a look of serenity on your face that heâs both captured by and in awe of. in fact, heâs a little bit jealous. heâs not sure what he looks like sleeping, but definitely not as a peaceful as you.
(johnny says he scowls in his sleep sometimes. even curses at him every now and then.)
when you and simon first get together he comes to find that one of your favorite pastimes is tucking yourself away in bed for a good nap. no harm in it, you shrug.
those words rattle around in his head the first time you ask if heâd like to join you. he blinks and scratches the back of his neck, asking if youâre sure about that because heâs ânot exactly cuddlyâ and probably wonât fall asleep.
âitâs alright. i just want you next to me.â simon bites back the urge to brand your name into his heart.
one hour is all it takes to change his perspective. suddenly, crawling into bed with you for a quick snooze becomes the most indulgent activity he could think of. simonâs quick to mold himself against your body, breathing in the tranquility of the moment. your breaths turned shallow not too long before and heâs shocked to find himself following you down the rabbit hole into a dreamless sleep.
itâs the vulnerability that gets to him. to lay in each others arms and slip away from the world together - itâs a level of intimacy heâs never experienced before and it intoxicates him. soon enough, heâs pulling you to the side during end of the day trainings, staring down at you with molten brown eyes. âi want to lay down with you after this.â
insists youâve spoiled him, although youâre not sure how him finally getting enough sleep is a bad thing. but when he starts whining (if you could call it whining in that voice) that you should be laying in bed with him instead of doing whatever youâre doing, you start to think he might be right.
simon! never really thought he'd settle down, not with someone by his side at least.
he'd sort of assumed his life career that he wouldn't even get to, that he'd be dead in a ditch somewhere before he got to flee the murky city for the cottage he'd been dreaming of since that day he'd enlisted.
yet, here he was. late thirties, retired and soft as ever to the touch. he watched you from the porch he'd built with his own two hands, admiring the way the sun wrapped around your sweet form.
your belly was swole under your white sundress, cheeks flushed, and hair tucked behind your ears. taking care of your vegetable garden in your second trimester was proving to be tougher than anticipated, but you insisted you could do it yourself, shooing simon away.
and so he watched on, a permanent smile etched onto his lips, rocking back and forth in an old armchair, with a babe in his arms as his wife continued to be stubborn as ever.Â
simon was the only one who could understand you. of course, he understood your interests and your distastes, but he was the only one who could understand you.
on days where you couldnât get out of bed, couldnât shower, couldnât live, simon was the one who understood. heâd lay in bed with you, bathe with you, even when he barely fit in the tub and would have to maneuver his legs in an uncomfortable position to fit the both of you.
when the world was against you, simon stood tall by your side.
when you didnât have it in you anymore to keep on going, simon gave you a second chance.
he knew how you felt. how when things got bad again, nobody was there to pick you back up, to tell you things will be okay, to hug you. simon never had that for himself, so when he met you, a shattered reflection of himself, he provided you with what he didnât have.
unconditional love. undying affection. admiration on days where you felt you didnât deserve it. everything he didnât get before you, he gave you twice as much.
simon glued back your broke pieces with the utmost care. and when you broke again, heâd do it all over.
simon loved you for you. he loved every fragment that cracked along the way. loved you on days where you didnât love yourself, and loved you on days where you felt like you were on top of the world.
where most people saw an ugly flower, shriveling up into rotted petals, he saw the garden of eden blossoming right before his eyes. he watered every intricate flowers, providing you with warm rays of sunshine in order to assure you would grow.
he took his time with you. he remained patient, because love always is. after all, you canât bloom a garden without the occasional parasite or weed, and simon would get on hands and knees, fingers in the dirt if it meant tending to you.
c/w: lowself-esteem!reader, mentions of smut, self-projection on my part lol
he tracks you down after his video with you goes absolutely viral. it instantly becomes one of his top rated and most viewed works, comments filled with people gushing over the way john held your hand each time he made you cum, or the way he held you in his arms for a few minutes when you need a breather :(
asks if youâd be willing to make some videos with him for his private subscription channel, says heâll split the earning with you completely 50/50. promises you all that lovey-dovey stuff you asked for when you won that competition because it opened up a whole new department of content for him
seems like a win-win situation to you, good and consistent dick along with money? no question about it. he assumes youâre gonna fall in love with him, poor thing hasnât had much experience with men so obviously youâre gonna be head over heels in no time
except thatâs not what happens, and itâs him who falls first. he knew you lacked confidence, but he didnât really count for the sad reality that you naturally assumed you had no real chance with him anyway so your brain completely rejected any possibility of falling in love with him
but he didnât assume that your pouty lips and sad eyes would grip his heart in a death grip. each time you looked up at him, tears welling in your eyes when he calls you his good girl because you know youâll never be his
but john was yours the second you asked him to just make love to you the first time you met, to please just let you imagine what itâs like to be in love and to have someone utterly you⊠even if itâs fake and even if itâs just for a few seconds
Also, friendly reminder that although this is a sfw drabble, my blog is 18+, Minors and Ageless blogs dni
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Y'know how Ghost pulls out some jokes here and there and is generally good at quips?
Imagine that the boys are out, just having a little get together at a bar after a successful mission and Simon pulls out one of his shit jokes.
You happen to sit nearby, your friend in the bathroom so you have nothing to do other than drink and listen to the environment around you.
"What's the difference between an oysterman and a prostitute with diarrhea?"
...
What?
Slowly, you set down your drink and listen carefully as a deeper, gruff voice behind you starts off a bit.
The Scotsman of the group groans audibly, "Steaming Jesus... What?"
"One shucks between fits, and the other fucks between shits."
Immediately, your forehead hits the counter as a fit of giggles bubble up and spill from your lips, uncontrollable, especially with how the joke, so fucking stupid, keeps replaying in your head. Your laughter is highly contagious as it seems, as the group of men behind you begin chuckling along.
"LT, ah think they liked yer joke."
Through little giggles, calming down from that little fit of yours, you throw a peek over your shoulder, catching onto the darkest yet equally shining pair of eyes, crinkling with a small grin as the large blond regards you with amusement and intrigue.
Simon has a bad dream about you, it's not specified what he dreams but if you read the comics, you'll know what I'm referring to....
Simon looks at you, devastation is his eyes and when you try to touch him he draws back.
"I dreamt of you.", he rasps and it makes something in you squirm uncomfortably. Evidently it was not a good dream.
"What happened Simon.", you ask carefully. He sighs and looks to the ceiling but you still catch a glimpse of the way his eyes are glassy and wet.
"Lovie, I...", his voice breaks and he looks at you wet eyes begging you to help him. "I did things to you. Horrible horrible unimaginable things. I... what the fuck.", he whispers and you see the first tear fall.
You knew Simon struggled with violent thoughts and fantasies. The only blessing he was given was that they had never included you.
You eyes find his and you're face is nothing but pure love. "It's okay, Simon. It was just a dream."
He shakes his head. "How can my brain even think of something like that. The usual thoughts and dreams are bad enough but you?! I would never do that to you."
When you hear the shattering guilt in his voice you step into his space and wrap your arms around him. He doesn't return the gesture but he allows you to hold him, which is a good sign.
"Exactly, darling. Human brains come up with fucked up shit a lot. Having those thoughts does not make you a bad person. Acting out those thoughts would make you a bad person. But instead you choose the opposite.", you soothe and he finally wraps his arms around you as well, hiding his face against you.
"There you go, Simon. I've got you. You choose to be soft with me, even if you have violent thoughts, and that is who you are. Your thoughts don't define you, your actions do."
He exhales shudderingly and cradles you in his arms, as if you'd break if he moved wrong. Soaking up your gentleness like it's the only thing keeping him alive.
it is proven that majority of women canât orgasm from intercourse alone. So imagine reader who canât make herself cum, no matter how she touches her swollen little bud.
itâs becoming more annoying as you keep trying, different speeds, pressures, and angles, but nothing seems to work for you! Itâs gotten to the point where youâve quite frankly given up on even touching yourself. Youâve tried for so long, yet always get nothing.
so imagine telling Simon when he asks you, oh so kindly when on deployment, to touch yourself with him to make you both feel good. The silence over the phone when you say you canât.
âWhat?â
âI just canât. Iâve tried, but it just doesnât work for me.â
ââAve ya-?â
âIâve done everything, Simon! I canât, okay?â
it was clear that this was something that you werenât comfortable with talking about. It made you upset that you didnât âfunction correctlyâ like other women. So the night Simon came home, he greeted you with a soft kiss. There wasnât any harsh underlying emotion, just soft and sweet love. His large and calloused hands would cup your cheeks and look at your eyes, watching the slight confusion slip into your gaze.
now laying against his sturdier chest, looking at yourself in the mirror with him behind you, you knew what was happening. He gently pulled down your sleeping pants, taking his time to let his fingertips brush against every inch of your thighs, all the way down to your ankles. And soon enough, off came your panties too. He started by admiring the slight glistening of your slick right by your entrance, using his fingers to gently dip into the fluid that he loved. Dragging his fingers upwards, he brought his fingertips to the side of your clit, letting your slick be the lube for his fingers.
Simon looked at you through the mirror, keeping eye contact as his fingers pressed onto your clit. The gasp that left your lips was sudden, almost reaching down to grab his wrist, but stopping when he gave you a stern warning look. Everything felt different - his touch felt electrifying, while yours felt like watching paint dry. Why was it so different? Your eyes fluttered shut, head resting on his shoulder when he started speeding up his small circular motion. Your thighs spread a little more, shuddering when you felt a build up in your lower tummy. That burn you never felt unless you used a toy, the burn you got before you were clouded with euphoria; it was coming. You let out small squeaks and whimpers as your hips lifted and you came undone. Usually thatâs when youâd stop, let your body just relax, but Simon kept a firm hand across your torso, using his leg to keep yours pinned down so he could still rub you till complete satisfaction.
once his movements slowed and he was panting along with you slightly, he pressed a gentle kiss to your shoulder, looking at your eyes through the mirror again.
âI donât care what time of day it is, if ye need tâcum, yâtell me and Iâll help, love. Alrighâ?â
you mustered a small nod, droopy eyes falling to the wet and sticky mess between your thighs, and the lovely hands that helped you along the way.
You go through Ghost's search history on his phone to try and figure out what sort of porn he watches but it's all videos of incredibly complex miniature landscape builds and model trains
â note; lowercase intended!! this is kinda told from ghostâs point of view, if you wanna pt.2 lmk
â tags & cw; gendered reader, slight sub!ghost for a second, pet names, afab!reader, eating out, pussy drunk!ghost, whiny!ghost, mention of sex, fingering
"i crave you..." that moment of vulnerability was what sparked the current events of simon's lips kissing your neck, his calloused hands holding your waist so gently, afraid you would break in his grasp. he had the tendency to ruin everything good that came to him, selectively or not but you... no, never you. you were pure, his innocent y/n, you meant the world to him and you'll never know it. just looking at you saved him from his thoughts, his head was finally out of the rain clouds and was now staring in awe at the beauty you projected.
a goddess. that's what you reminded him off, a goddess of relief if there was ever such a being. his heart was heavy of trauma and sadness, so much so that he believed he didn't deserve good things but when he looked at you, truly looked at you, he saw his salvation. he was like the thirstiest man alive who had just seen an oasis in the desert, he needed you, you were like oxygen to him. "i'm all yours." you whispered and no matter how many times you say it, it still sent his head into a spiral. his? you were his? of course you were.
placing your hands on his cheeks, his stubble tickling your palms as you tilted his head to look at his eyes. "is everything okay?" you asked, watching him lean into your hands and soften with a loving look. "everything's fine." he replied, his voice barely above a whisper, his brown eyes watching your every move. "i just need to feel you." it wasn't quite a whimper but the emotions hanging in the air was too much, he felt so high off of your presence and he wanted more.
"okay, baby, that's okay. where do you want me?" you smiled, following him as he sat on the end of your bed, climbing onto his lap as he guided you onto his thighs. "please, love. can i kiss you?" your face softened and you reached a hand from his wrist to gently and slowly pull his partially lifted mask off completely, leaving him exposed to you. "of course, doll."
a grumble left his throat at the pet name, a hand grasping onto your hip while the other pulled your face closer to his own, his lips attaching to yours. "god, i love it when you call me that." he admitted, whispering against your lips as he tightened his hold on your hip. "hmm, is that so?" you grinned, leaning forward and pushing him against the bed so you were hovering over him, your hair creating a curtain around your faces. "huh? are you my good doll?"
simon groaned and moved his hands down to stroke your thighs, gripping the clothed skin tightly ever so slightly. "are you gonna be a good boy for me?" you smirked, tracing shapes on his shirt covered chest, watching as a blush worked up his neck to his cheeks, meeting the black grease paint that surrounded his eyes. "just fuckin' kiss me." he rasped out, lifting a hand from your thigh to slide his fingers between the strands of your hair and pull your head down.
your lips moved against his and he guided your hips back and forth, a groan leaving his mouth against yours at the feeling of your clothed cunt on his hardening cock. âfuck⊠can ya feel how hard youâve made me, ya fuckinâ minx?â you chuckled at his question, pressing your hips down harder making the usually stoic male throw his head back with a hiss.
âwhat? do you wanna fuck me? huh, ghost? wanna hear me scream your name and see me cry for you?â you teased sliding your hands down his hard and built chest, feeling very muscle tense and flex under the shirt before you slip them under the fabric. he shivered slightly at the feeling of your cold fingers against his warm, scarred skin. âwell, donât threaten me with a good time, sweetheart. fuckinâ you until youâve lost your voice sounds fuckinâ peachy right âbout now.â
you teasingly pouted and pinched his nipples between your fingers, another hiss leaving his mouth in response, âand whatâs stopping you? hmm? too pussy to follow through?â all of a sudden, you were on your back and simon was hovering over you, his hands pushing your thighs against the mattress, leaving your clothed cunt wide open for him. ânever.â
grinding his hips down, he watched as you bit your lip with a grin, gently digging your nails into his skin while you drag your hands down his torso, âwell, then. câmon big guy, fuck me.â the kiss was messy when his lips appeared on yours again, tongue and teeth clashing as you pulled each otherâs clothes off, throwing them around the room absentmindedly.
pulling away from the kiss, simon stared down at you, panting from lack of oxygen while his hands slipped under you to unclasp your bra, throwing it over his head when you pulled your arms through. âfuck⊠youâre gorgeous.â he whispered before lowering his head and attaching his lips to your perky nipple, biting it teasingly, listening to you let out a soft moan in response.
he pulled away from one tit and attached his lips to the other, your back arching when he sucked a little too hard, your hand tightening in his hair. his blonde hair fell out of your hands as he made his way down your body, kissing every inch of skin as he went. âgod, i canât wait to taste you.â he hummed, excitement filling his body as he got closer and closer to your now exposed cunt. âplease, simon, please.â
he moved his body between your legs and kissed your pubic bone, smiling up at you as you shuddered. âcan i?â He took the gentle approach, looking up at your face that watched his every movement with pleading eyes. âplease⊠please.â was all you said, more like begged through already panted breaths. he smirked and noticed how wet you looked, his tongue poking out slightly to lick his lips. a fake sad look overcame his face as he made eye contact with you, âsuch a pretty pussy.â you looked at him and went to speak but was cut off as his lips wrapped around your clit softly, kitten licking the bundle of nerves as a soft and quiet moan left your pink lips.
âkeep quiet, love. you never know who might hear you.â he commented, his teeth letting go of your clit as his mouth blew hot air on your sensitive cunt with each word. you nodded and let your hands fall to his hair, gripping tightly when you felt a finger tickling your entrance. reattaching his lips to your swelling clit, he slowly pushed his finger in to the first knuckle, curling teasingly as his eyes stared at you, taking in your features as he took the slow approach. âmore. please, s-simon⊠i need more.â you whispered, listening to his order of staying quiet.
he hummed at you pleas and flicked his tongue up and down in slow, agonising movements, pushing his finger further in as your pussy pulled him in, eager to feel him. a long breath was released from your chest as you ran your fingers through his hair, your painted nails digging into his scalp as he scraped his teeth gently against your most sensitive spot, your back arching as he fucked another finger into you. he was taking his time, enjoying the fruitful flavours that danced on his tastebuds, your addictive juices coating his tongue. he felt high, his head rang with repeated sounds of your moans, his cock straining against the fabric of the bedsheets.
he couldnât get enough of you and it scared him slightly, he had never craved someone before but the way you whimpered his name and pushed his head closer to your clenching pussy made him whine into your folds with need. you were delicious, you were beautiful, everything he needed to make him feel human but he closed that side of his brain off and enjoyed the feeling of you squirming underneath him as he pumped his fingers in and out of you. his eyes were half lidded as he watched your face, your eyes squinted closed as you flexed your thighs around his head, digging your heels into his back painfully to pull him impossibly closer. he was drunk off of your taste. his chin, mouth and hand was covered in your wetness but he didnât care, his hips rutting down against the bed to create stimulation against his aching cock.
pussy drunk. that was how simon would describe himself, he was intoxicated by your taste, his head felt heavy as you came, his mouth eager drinking all of you down his throat but he didnât stop, he couldnât stop. his head was leaning against your trembling thigh as he licked, sucked and bit at your swollen pussy, he needed more. âanother one.â he half-whined, half-ordered, attaching his lips to your clit again, ignoring the ache in his arm and jaw. wrestling with your thighs with his free hand, he pulled another orgasm out of you, one of your hands flying to your mouth where you bit down on the skin to conceal your shouts, a whimper sounding from your throat as it rumbled in your chest.
again, he couldnât stop, he wanted more, he wanted to be full of your taste. âplease, p-please⊠love⊠another. one more-â he practically begged into your sobbing cunt, your body shaking in overstimulation as tears fell from your pretty eyes. âi-i canât.. i canât.â you shook your head but your hands pulled him closer to your pretty pussy, his fingers still inside you and soaking wet. âplease, sweetheart, please. you taste so good.â he drooled, licking at you more aggressively and a high pitched whine left your mouth. more helpless moans left your lips before you nodded and he continued, quickening his pace that he fucked his fingers into you, adding a third one while you whimpered at the stretch.
he became more harsh as he threw your legs over his shoulders and gripped your thighs tightly, the skin bruising under his hold. he became desperate to pull another orgasm out of you and it was quickly approaching, he could taste it and a fulfilled groan rumbled in his chest. with a full body shudder and a smothered shout, you came again, your entire body trembling under his gaze as he watched you closely. he wanted this moment tattooed into his brain, he didnât want to forget the way you moaned his name, the way you clawed at him and pulled on any body part you could get your hands on.
he let you down gently, sliding his fingers out of you. âcan you fuck me now?â you whined, a slight wiggling of your hips teasing him as he sat up, letting your legs fall from his shoulder. âask me nicely and I just might.â he grinned, licking his lips as he trailed his hands up from your ankles to your waist.
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