Ink & Needle // Tattoo Artist Simon “Ghost” Riley x Female Reader
A night out in London to celebrate your friend’s upcoming marriage ends with a quick hook-up in a club’s green room. You don’t expect to see your masked man ever again, and you leave it as a one-time thing. Three years later, you’re back in England, and find yourself facing the man you walked away from at that club. He’s running a tattoo parlor just down the street from where you’re staying. Over time, your paths cross and cross again until the two of you are tangled up in a messy web. Will it last? Or will one of you walk away?
pairings: various avatar men x female na'vi reader
(jake sully, miles quaritch, neteyam, lo’ak, & ao’nung)
series notes: neteyam is aged up to 23, lo'ak & ao'nung are aged up to 22, reader is aged up to 25, reader is morally grey and a coy bitch, infidelity from jake and lo'ak, suggestive themes and smut, varang and miles & lo'ak and tsireya exists here intimately. made up clans and practices for the sake of this series, misogyny, men being men, big age gap for jake and reader & miles and reader, change in canon events and facts.
series prompt: there is only one clan that could turn the tides of the war, the zä'raiya clan. whoever they favor, eywa will bless. it just so happens that aid will not be the only thing that these men will beg for but for a woman who’s form of entertainment is stringing along men, mated or not.
“y’think i haven’t been losin sleep over you?” he continues, dragging his mouth along your jaw. “think i didn’t cum with your name in my mouth last night, after you begged so nice n pretty f’me to fuck y’senseless?”
sober you is a lot less bold, but simon is a man of his word. 18+. insane amount of dirty talk, reader afab, PIV. smut smut smut smut. size kink.
——————-
the headache you wake with is devastating.
biblically so.
and not in the sunday service, water‑into‑wine sort of way. this is old‑testament vengeance. locusts and brimstone and a hammer slamming the earth between your temples. divine retribution for every godless thing you said, every blurred line you crossed - like some higher power watched you drink yourself stupid last night and said let there be suffering.
and fuck, suffering you are.
you’re barely coherent, hardly sentient, when you squint into the cold morning light and find the realization of what happened last night dawning in on you in fragments. out of order, scrambled like eggs - simon’s arm around your waist. you calling him big. military‑issued. ruin‑her‑life‑in‑a‑single‑night kind of hands. been into you for ages. god yes. please. y’don’t know what you’re askin for, sweet’eart. the way he said you’re makin me hard like it physically pained him.
practically moaning into his motherfucking palm.
wait - practically? no. you did.
you spend majority of the morning with your head buried under blankets and pillows mourning the death of your past self because you know your soul must be charred. burnt like the edges of hell where your feet are now firmly planted.
“you, wakin up with my dog tags round your neck and nothin else.”
fuck sakes.
you’ve known hangovers, you’ve known embarrassment, but this - this is some divine hybrid of the two. a cocktail of humiliation and mortification laced with whatever residual high you’re still riding from him saying come say it t’me sober like a goddamn dare.
and of course it only gets worse when you finally make it to your feet - teeth brushed twice after two whole water bottles and a shower hot enough to burn the devil out of hell - and notice something silver glinting on the table by your door that most definitely wasn’t there yesterday morning.
“oh…god.” your heart flips up into your throat.
his dog tags.
you’ve known simon long enough to know what this is. he didn’t forget them. he didn’t misplace them. he left them there to tell you he heard every fuckin word you said and he’s not letting you off the hook for it. it’s a test. if you meant it - which you did - you’ll bring them to him. you’ll say it to him sober like he asked.
a man of morals. who knew war criminals had it in them.
you spend what has to be a full ten minutes just staring at them - like maybe you’re still drunk, maybe you’re seeing things and they’ll vanish if you focus hard enough. maybe you can unsay every devastatingly honest thing you said with sheer mental fortitude alone and they’ll magically fly back to him on their own.
spoiler alert: they don’t move. because of course they don’t. and it takes another ten before you finally stuff them into your pocket.
it’s probably best to just rip the bandaid off. bring them to him before you have to face him infront of the others in mess or briefing - damage control before the rest of the world finds out about the stunt you pulled. you don’t even know what you’re going to say - sorry? thanks? let’s just pretend i never told you i fantasize about fucking you when i can’t sleep?
fuck. it doesn’t matter. you know you owe him the return. a peace offering, a penance, a silent white-flag kind of knock on his door.
and so you walk the hall like it’s the green mile. you’ve never done a walk of shame but you imagine this has got to be as close as it comes. his door is shut when you reach it, and you stand in front of it like a coward for another unnecessary amount of time - complexion almost ill. ghostly. like you could float right through the fuckin wood if the wind blew hard enough.
finally, you knock.
it’s a moment, and then he answers, filling his doorframe with those thick shoulders stretching a tight black t-shirt, looking right as rain besides damp hair and bloodshot eyes.
you wonder, fleetingly, if he even slept. but then his gaze drops over the length of you and you busy yourself with fighting the urge to run for your fucking life.
you clear your throat. “can i..uh. can we talk?”
he nods and pops the door open, gesturing for you to come in. you take a few steps into his room - dark, organized, rather sparse - and nearly jump out of your flesh when the door shuts behind you. the click of a cell door closing, announcing your sealed fate.
you spin to face him once his boots have stopped dragging across the tiles, and find him leaning back against his desk - ankles and arms crossed.
you swallow, and pull the tags from your pocket. “i um. i think you forgot these.”
his brow twitches, barely, as he takes a glance at your hand. a flash of something behind his eyes you can’t name.
“did i?” he doesn’t move.
you shift your weight. the mortification could eat you alive. you’re certain it currently is.
“figured i’d bring them back.” you add, quieter now, trying your fucking hardest to sound normal. like you didn’t just spend the night saying all kinds of unholy things into the palm of his hand. “incase…uh, you were looking for them.”
he still doesn’t take them.
“strange,” his lips tilt. the first sign he’s shown that he's enjoying this. “coulda sworn i left em’ somewhere on purpose.”
your stomach flips. you try to laugh but it’s brittle. “right. sure.”
he shrugs. “not the kinda thing i usually misplace.”
you bite the inside of your cheek so hard you think it might bleed, unsure how to respond to that. it’s hard to even breathe with the way he’s watching you - like he’s taking notes - reading everything you’re not saying in the line of your mouth, in the way your fingers tremble around the chain of his tags.
“shaky this mornin, yeah?” he says, just casually knocking the rest of the wind out of your chest.
“i-“
you falter, because what the fuck are you even supposed to say? no, i’m fine. i’m totally good, actually. i definitely didn’t spend all morning curled fetal, praying to gods who’ve certainly damned me for a head injury so i can forget the mental car crash that was last nights events.
simon waits, eyes blazing like you’re a twitchy little experiment. trying to see which wire makes you spark the hardest.
you clear your throat. try again. “m’just tired.”
“mm.” he hums with a lazy nod. “musta been all that talkin you were doin.”
and there it is. here it comes.
“can’t really remember, but i’m sure it’s part of it.” you lie with a forced laugh. lie so awkwardly it hurts. “tequila. you know how it is.”
“do i ever.” he replies, dragging a hand through his damp hair.
silence stretches thick, after that. it’s so thick it makes the walls feel closer, the floor feel further away. you avert your gaze, and realize almost immediately how big of a mistake that is because the motion pulls your eyes across his forearm - his bare, inked forearm, tendons flexing with the movement he’s making.
you remember that arm last night, wrapped tight around your waist. pulling you close before you moaned god yes and please beneath the big hand attached to it like fucking gospel.
when you flinch, he smirks. not even pretending like he didn’t notice. “y’remember nothin from last night, then?”
your eyes snap up to his. you hate yourself for the fact that all of last nights confidence seems to be no where in fucking sight.
“well, uh, it’s fuzzy but…i remember bits.”
“bits.” he echos. nodding. “yeah. must be a shame.”
oh god.
“shame?”
“shame t’forget all that detail.” he lets the words sink in, watching your face as he leans a hand on the desk behind him. “pretty interestin things. real deep. could write a bloody novel, the way y’were goin on.”
“oh.” you choke, again, and mentally slap yourself. get it together. “well. thats-“
he hums again. “suppose i could walk y’through it.”
“walk me-“
earth tilts. he doesn’t let you finish. “y’know. help piece it together. fill in the gaps.”
“you don’t-you don’t have to-“
he lifts a hand to gesture vaguely toward his bed. your pulse races to the moon.
“your room, y’were right there. lookin at me like i was gonna eat y’alive.” his voice lowers. you swallow and it tastes like sin. his finger shifts to the space before his bed. pointing at the edge. “and i was right there, tryin’ like hell t’be a fuckin gentleman.”
you could laugh, maybe cry, or just absolutely combust right there on the floor because it all floods back in an instant. the way you moaned his name when he knelt over you to undo your boots. the way your thighs tensed as you told him you think about him. the way you stared at him while your brain short circuited and your mouth betrayed every secret you thought you’d die with.
part of you did die, you suppose. the part with your dignity. right there on the floor of your room, next to your boots he took off.
“look, simon-“
he steps closer now. just a step. “y’said you’d been into me for ages.”
you blink, holding your breath.
“said y’think bout me when y’cant sleep.” his voice is a rasp now, the muscle in his jaw ticks. “i asked y’a question, then. d’you remember it?”
fucking hell.
“yes.” you exhale.
“what was it.”
your heart is a jackhammer, breaking through your sternum.
“you-you asked if i think about you when…” you hesitate, and he cocks an eyebrow. “…when i touch myself.”
“yeah.” he says lowly. a breath, not a word. “tha’s right.”
your skin is burning and your limbs feel foreign, at this point. you feel nerve endings pulsing in place you didn’t know you even had nerves.
“d’you remember your answer?” he continues, taking another step toward you.
and it’s then that the anxiety takes over - you blink twice and bite down until you taste blood, shaking your head no. not because you’ve forgotten - fucking hell you remember everything - but because saying it out loud feels like jumping out of a plane without a parachute.
he doesn’t buy it.
“mm, sure y’do.” he calls your bluff, says it so soft it’s almost a coo. “y’know i know your tells - two blinks while bitin the inside of your cheek.” his eyes gleam as his lips twitch. “y’can’t lie t’me, princess.”
christ, you can’t help but laugh at that. it’s exactly the reason why you’ve been into him - he’s perceptive and cunning and cocky all at once.
this is the man you’ve thought about fucking for months.
“yes.” you whisper in admittance. “i said yes.”
“god yes.” he corrects with another step until he’s so close you have to kink your neck back to meet his eyes. his shoulders swallow the edges of your vision until all you see is him. “…still true?”
you nod. a broken thing. “yes.”
“yeah?” his head tilts, the heat of him sweltering. “y’think bout me when y’put hands on yourself?”
“simon-“
he hushes you with a shake of his head, eyes dipping to your lips. “tell me.”
it’s then that you realize dragging this on is for nothing. whatever drunken confession you made last night clearly cracked open whatever restraint simon’s been exercising for months.
clearly whatever you feel, he’s feeling it too.
“yes.” you confess, as firm as you possibly can. nothing coy in it now. “yes, i think about you when im alone. when i touch myself…doesn’t even feel right unless im picturing you. your hands. touching me.”
it all comes out of you in a rushed whisper, desperate and dripping sweet from your lips like it’s been saturating behind your teeth for too long. when he doesn’t respond right away, you realize you’ve stunned him, and pull on whatever courage you have left to press forward.
“i’ve wanted you for so long ive stopped tryin to figure out when it started.” you murmur, lost in his eyes. “and you?”
his breath catches. just the faintest hitch, like he wasn’t prepared for the edge of your honesty to turn and face him instead. it’s delectable, the slight composure tilt, but it doesn’t last long. because slowly - slowly, his mouth curls into something wrecked. something that says fuckin hell, it’s on.
his knuckles come up to graze your jaw, he lowers his head until his lips find your ear—
“y’askin if i think bout you when i’ve got my fist wrapped round my cock?” you inhale sharply, then choke on it when his mouth brushes your lobe. “course i fuckin do.”
your hands lift timidly to find his shirt, curling into it, dog tags still clinking between your fingers.
“y’think i haven’t been losin sleep over you?” he continues, dragging his mouth along your jaw. “think i didn’t cum with your name in my mouth last night, after you begged so nice n pretty f’me to fuck y’senseless?”
your lashes flutter. his free hand slips around your waist. “fuck, simon-“
“i know, sweet’eart.” he murmurs it, almost gentle, like it’s something you share. “tha’s what y’need, ain’t it? f’me to admit you’re not the only one losin mind here.”
you nod, partly frantic and partly delirious, and he exhales something strained - something from somewhere deep, catching on the parts of him dying to stay patient.
“good.” his hand slides up the back of your shirt, while the other finds the one of yours still holding his tags. “y’really come here just to return these, then?”
“no.” it chokes out of you instantly, mouth tilting toward his. “you wanted me to say it to you sober. made a promise bout what you’d do if i did?”
something feral flashes over his face, at that. translated through the grip he tightens on your waist, the exhale he washes over your jaw.
“yeah.” he says, tight. “i did.”
his mouth is barely a breath from yours.
“well here i am. sober.” you whisper. “wanting you more than i did while drunk.”
he makes a sound you’ve never heard before. not a groan, not a moan, something deep and feral punched straight out of his chest.
“fuckin hell.”
and then he’s kissing you.
no more waiting, no more games. simon’s a man of his word and it shows in the way his mouth crashes into yours - hungry and bruising and impatient - teeth knocking, one hand fisting in the back of your shirt and tearing it off you while the other pulls you in. he spins you both so your ass hits the edge of his desk, and then breaks away - trailing spit slick lips down your jaw and throat, thick fingers working to tease the band of your sweats.
“tell me where y’want me, sweet’eart.” he growls into your pulse.
you blink, dazed. “i-what?”
his teeth graze just enough to make you whimper, before his mouth drags back up beside your ear - ruinous in the inflection.
“tell me how you’ve imagined it,” his finger tips slide under your waistband, just teasing. “what you’ve pictured when you’re thinkin’ of me like this. right ‘ere.”
“oh god, simon.” you moan by his words alone, too wound to be embarrassed, fingers cinched tight in the fabric of his shirt. “your-your fingers. your mouth. your cock-“
that sound again. deep and devastated. restraint being ripped out by the roots.
“fuck. filthy thing f’me, aren’t you?” he says, as two fingers slide lower, slipping under heat soaked fabric and finding your slit, pressing in no further than they need to before circling back up - spreading the mess you’ve made just to feel it. “you’re fuckin soaked.”
you whimper as he teases your clit. his mouth finds your throat again, teeth grazing where your pulse stutters wild beneath flushed skin. you don’t trust your legs to hold you upright under the weight of it all - his touch, his voice, the feral gleam in his eye when he looks at you like you’re some prophecy being fulfilled.
“s’this what i do t’you?” he murmurs. “just from talkin t’you like this?”
you nod, a frantic little thing. “yes-god, yes.”
he exhales hard like it's kicked out of him, tugging your sweats down until they slide off your ankles before he lifts you back onto his desk and parts your thighs with hands so big they nearly span the entire width of them.
you fucking moan at the sight.
and of course it only fuels him - braces you back on your elbows, spine arched, breath caught in your throat as he steps in close between your legs. his eyes drag down to where you glisten in the dim light - slick, flushed, waiting - and he lets out a curse before returning his fingers to your aching cunt.
he presses in one digit slow, then adds another. knuckle deep until your eyes roll, hips jerking at the stretch.
“oh, fuck-“
he hisses through his teeth. “tight little cunt. fuckin meltin f’me.”
his thumb catches your clit in the same motion - rubbing soft circles, pushing you closer, dragging you toward the edge with every brutal curl of his fingers inside you.
“that feel good?” he growls against your jaw. “touched y’self in bed thinkin bout me between your thighs like this?”
you’re panting now. shaking.
“i-“ you gasp. “yes, simon-yes-“
“yeah?” his thumb speeds up, his fingers pump deeper, your head spins. “and did y’cum like this? like you’re about to f’me now?”
you don’t answer fast enough. he bites at your jaw.
“tell me.”
“no-n-never like this—”
he growls something vile under his breath. “poor thing. s’okay. i’ve got you.”
your walls flutter around him, your thighs shaking where they frame his hips, and he feels it - feels the beginning of the end stutter through you.
“simon-“ you whinge.
he cuts you off. “look at me.”
you do. barely.
“tha’s it,” he breathes. “cum on my fuckin fingers. show me what i’ve been missin.”
you’re starved for it, beyond saving, and its only a couple more deep pumps before you break.
it floods through you - white hot and searing. you cry out his name as you clamp around his digits, trembling apart on his desk while he watches you like you’re art - jaw clenched, pupils blown - his fingers still moving, dragging you through it until you’re sobbing into his shoulder.
“there we go.” when it passes and you’re limp, blinking up at him stunned - he withdraws slowly. “attagirl. s’fuckin good.”
you swallow, watching wide eyed as he brings those same fingers to his mouth and sucks them clean.
“been dreamin bout that taste, knew it’d be sweet.” he purrs as he leans down, wiping his spit slick digits over your cheek. “gonna need it proper soon.”
you don’t even have time to question or respond to that, because then he’s unbuckling his belt.
when you finally look back up, his eyes are wild.
“s’this what y’want?” he murmurs, tugging leather through loops before undoing the button at his waist. “when you came t’me this mornin, all flushed and pretendin t’be innocent. was this it? wantin’ me to bend y’over and take what y’fuckin offered?”
you choke as he tugs himself free - thick, leaking at the tip and throbbing - bigger than anything you’ve ever seen, nevermind taken.
the nod that follows is compulsive desperation. “holy fuck-yes-“
he smacks light at your thigh. “stand up. bend over f’me.”
you do as you’re told without hesitation - legs shaking as you stand spin and lean forward over the desk - breath still stuttering in your chest, heart going a mile a minute. your hands barely meet wood before he’s on you - no preamble. no breath between. grabs your hips like it’s instinct, like his hands were molded to hold you like this, and yanks you back against him with a roughness that steals whatever’s left in your lungs.
you shudder when he slides his cock against your slit once - twice - dragging the head through slick and stalls notched just shy of your entrance, breathing hard like it’s killing him to wait.
“y’remember what else y’said last night?”
you barely manage a nod. your mouth opens, but nothing comes out. he exhales something like a laugh.
“not compliments. not the fantasies. not the whining.” he drags through your mess again, slower this time. deliberate. “you said—“ his hips press forward just enough to make you gasp. “—you wondered if it’d hurt.”
you whine, embarrassed, but god it shoots straight through you. he bends low now, chest flush to your back, mouth to your ear.
“truth is, it might.” his lips curl into a smile. “so don’t fuckin run now.”
and then - only then - he pushes in. you gasp so hard your chest deflates on impact, thick head stretching sopping walls wide and dragging deeper than you’ve ever imagined - too much and not enough all at once.
“ohfuck-simon-“ your head drops toward the desk, eyes stinging.
“mm. tha’s it.” he groans, loud, burying himself halfway before pausing there. “tightest fuckin—bloody hell.”
he presses forward a little more - just enough to make your knees shake as he steadies you with one hand at your hip and grits his teeth. he pulls out just to feel you clench, then shoves back in - hard enough to jolt the desk and feed you all of him before you can even brace for it.
“ffffuck-ohfuck-“ you wail, knuckles bloodless where they clutch the desk. “you-you’re-“
“deep.” he bends over you, grabs a fistful of your hair, and drags your head back to his mouth, voice hot on your skin. “i fuckin know.”
he thrusts once. hard. then again. slower. deeper.
“jesus christ,” he undoes your bra with his free hand, paws at your tits until it hurts. “walked around this whole time with this cunt made f’me and didn’t say a fuckin word.”
“fuck simon-“
“yeah.” he grits against your ear. “tha’s how you moaned it last night. just like that.”
it’s punishing, the pace he sets. each snap of his hips smacking against your ass drags stars down into your retinas - body rocking and cervix kissed with each thrust - his grip is bruising and his mouth works at your neck, forcing noises out of you loud enough to rattle the fucking walls.
it doesn’t take long before your chest collapses onto slick wood, drool coated cheek pressed to the desk - vision bleeding white around the edges. he’s relentless - driven, brutal in rhythm, like he’s trying to fuck the memory of your voice out of his head, the memory of your thighs pressed together last night when he walked away instead of dropping to his knees and giving in.
he groans, open-mouthed, flushed everywhere. he’s not just fucking you. he’s wrecking you. dragging you across the edge by the throat and holding your broken pieces together with his own.
“mmf-fuck.” he snarls, burying his fist back in your hair. his palm cracks hard across your ass before snaking around your thigh to find your clit. devastating. “this. this is what i thought of for months. you. fuckin boneless f’me.”
he pulls out slow with a shuttering exhale, just enough for you to whine before he roars back in - hard and fast, fingers never slowing.
you shriek, squirming with no where to go.
“y’got no fuckin clue what y’did to me last night.” he’s panting, fingernails burning your scalp. “sat there slurrin filth. darin me t’do somethin bout it. tested every fuckin moral i’ve got.”
your second orgasm is a charging tide - and god, you know he feels it. you know by the way he rolls his fingers faster to chase it, moans in your ear when your walls flutter around him, fucks you deeper and slower just to drag you over by your hair.
“cum f’me. give me another.” he grits. “let me fuckin feel it sweet’eart.”
“ff-fuck simon! yes-yes-“
you sob, and then it hits you - violent and wet and cataclysmic - like every single one of your fantasies brought to life, like every pathetic orgasm you gave yourself to the thought of him and his fuckin hands all combined to create this. it’s stratospheric depths of bliss, all the colours of the rainbow erupting behind your eyes as he fucks you through it, not stalling his fingers until you’re sobbing.
“mhm. messy little thing.”
he growls with it before pulling out just enough to slap his cock against your soaked cunt, watching the slick stretch, the way you whine and arch out of pure fuckin instinct.
“look at this pretty cunt,” he rasps, teasing his tip over your clit. “drippin. tremblin. fuckin cryin f’me.”
you try to say something, try to catch a breath, but that all falls void as he thrusts back in without warning - one brutal, complete thrust, pushing everything out of you. screams, his name, your fucking soul. he groans as his hand finds your jaw, forcing your head to turn just enough so he can see your face. cheeks flushed, tears caught in your lashes.
“shh. don’t run—don’t fuckin run,” he growls against your mouth, arm cinched tight across your waist when your hips jerk away like it’s too much. “y’asked for this. said it t’me sober.”
“si-simon. please.” it’s breathless, ruined, wrecked beyond meaning, your mouth falling open on another sob when his hips grind deeper, when the head of him kisses a spot that has your knees giving out entirely. “fuck. s’good. s’m-much-“
“yeah?” he snarls. “s’good, huh?”
you nod something pathetic, lost for words. broken around him.
“want y’to think bout this when you’re alone.” his free hand drags down to your stomach, rests just high on your pelvis, feeling where he’s drilling. “how deep m’buried in this tight little cunt. how good my name feels in your fuckin throat.”
another nod. another hiccuped moan dragged out of you. “y-yes-yes i’ll think about it-mmff-“
“mhm,” he kisses you once. fleeting and viscous and hot. “good. s’good.”
a few more ragged thrusts and a sound gets torn from him, pulled from somewhere deep, feral and hoarse and ragged. his hips punch forward one final time, burying himself to the hilt, and then—
“fuck—fuck.”
he lets go.
he groans, voice breaking at the edges, forehead falling to the space between your shoulder blades. he pulses deep inside you, all of his pent up heat flooding you full until he’s spent, until he’s got nothing left to give and collapses against your back in one shuddering, boneless exhale.
and when it’s over, it’s just breathing - a long quiet moment full of everything neither of you know how to say before you register that he’s moving - leaning over you to grab at where his dog tags were discarded on the desk.
he slips them around your neck, and then pulls out.
“man of m’word, sweet’eart.” he whispers against your jaw. “this isn’t over.”
Task Force 141 x Omega OCs | Main Pairing: Ghost xOC
Content & Warnings: Omegaverse, Multiple OCs, Mention of Violence and Sexual Content
Current Word Count: ~186.6k
A 28-year-old omega ends up on the wrong side of the law, forcing her to make a daunting choice: serve a lengthy prison sentence or become one of four omegas for Task Force 141, an elite alpha pack known for their high-risk missions and no-nonsense attitudes. The omega opts for the latter choice and gets placed against 100 other omegas for a spot as one of four omegas in the elusive task force's all-alpha pack. Now, she dawns the callsign "Boo" and is forced to grow in ways she didn't expect to to in order to win the heart of an alpha. Extremely slow burn with themes of found family, self-improvement, and learning to love.
11.2k words of porn with plot. Going out with a bang for Halloween (pun intended). Everyone’s hands are everywhere and I may or may not have lost track at some point. M’bad.
It was honestly Graves’ fault.
Not that you’d admit that to him, the man’s ego was insufferable enough without adding fuel to the fire. But the chain of events that led to… well, everything that came after, started with him and his inability to keep his goddamn mouth shut.
Though to be fair, he couldn’t have known what he was triggering. He didn’t understand the fundamental truth about Task Force 141, the thing that everyone who worked with them learned eventually:
They were the most competitive bastards in the entire British Armed Forces.
It wasn’t just legendary; it was documented. There were actual incident reports.
Like the time Soap and Gaz had turned a simple training exercise into a competition over who could complete the obstacle course faster, which escalated into them sabotaging each other’s runs, which culminated in both of them dangling from a cargo net they’d somehow set on fire. Price had made them write individual apology letters to the base commander. They’d turned that into a competition too, each trying to write the most eloquent apology. Price had been furious. The base commander had been confused. The letters were still pinned to the bulletin board in the rec room as a warning to others.
Or the time Ghost and Soap had disagreed over the best way to clear a building, and instead of just… discussing it like normal people, they’d run the same scenario seventeen times in a row, each trying to beat the other’s time by mere seconds. They’d only stopped when Price physically removed them from the kill house and threatened to make them do paperwork for a month. Even then, Soap had muttered that he’d been winning.
Even Price wasn’t immune. There was a pool table in the officer’s lounge that no one was allowed to use anymore after Price and a visiting colonel had gotten into an increasingly intense game that lasted six hours and ended with the colonel’s transfer request. Price maintained he’d won fair and square. The indentation in the wall from where the cue ball had been hit with unnecessary force suggested things had gotten heated.
They competed over everything: marksmanship scores, mission completion times, who could do the most push ups, who could hold their breath longest, who could spot the enemy sniper first, who could drink the most without getting drunk (that one had ended poorly for everyone), and once, memorably, who could go longest without speaking. That had been a peaceful week for you, right up until they’d all broken at the same moment and started arguing about who had technically lasted longer.
Ghost had won that one by pointing out he never spoke much anyway, so it hadn’t been a challenge. Soap had thrown a boot at him.
The thing was, it made them excellent soldiers. That competitive drive pushed them to be faster, sharper, better than anyone else. They held records across multiple bases. Their mission success rate was unmatched. When Task Force 141 was assigned to an operation, people breathed easier because they knew it would get done.
But it also made them absolutely insufferable when they decided something was a competition.
And they decided everything was a competition.
Which brings you back to Graves.
The rec room was unusually crowded with Shadow Company temporarily stationed at the base. You’d been dealing with Graves and his people for three days now, and while professionally everything was running smoothly, personally you were ready for them to leave.
Graves had a way of taking up space, his Southern drawl filling every room he entered. He wasn’t a bad guy, exactly. Just… a lot.
You were refilling your coffee when he sauntered over, that trademark smirk firmly in place.
“Well, well. Didn’t expect to see you here,” he said, leaning against the counter in a way that was probably supposed to be charming.
“It’s my base, Graves.”
“Phil, sweetheart. We’re past formalities, aren’t we?” His eyes gleamed with something that made you tense. “Especially considering.”
Across the room, you felt the 141 paying attention. Price had looked up from his report. Soap’s conversation with Gaz had died mid sentence. Even Ghost had shifted slightly in his seat.
You should’ve known then. Should’ve recognized the signs. The 141 had a sixth sense for potential competitions, and they were already alert, already watching.
“Considering what?” you asked, keeping your voice level even as warning bells started ringing in your head.
“Oh, come on now. No need to be shy.” Graves’ smile widened. “Though you weren’t particularly shy that weekend in Berlin, as I recall. Great even.”
The room went very, very quiet.
You sighed internally. Of course he was going to do this. Of course he was trying to posture and mark his territory. “That was two years ago, Graves.”
“Phil,” he corrected again, clearly enjoying himself. “And I gotta say, you’re looking even better now than you did then. If you ever get tired of the 141, Shadow Company’s always recruiting. I’d be happy to conduct your… interview process.”
The temperature in the room dropped ten degrees.
Oh no.
You saw it happen in real time: Soap’s hand tightening around his mug, Gaz going unnaturally still, the way Price’s report crinkled ominously in his grip, how Ghost’s head tilted in that particular way that usually preceded someone having a very bad day.
“I’m good where I am,” you said firmly, trying to de-escalate. “Thanks.”
“Your loss.” Graves straightened, addressing the room now, playing to his audience. “But between you and me, and well, everyone else here” he stage whispered conspiratorially, “totally worth the operation debrief we had to sit through the next morning half dead from exhaustion, if you know what I mean.”
Oh no.
“Graves-” you started.
“I’m just saying.” Graves straightened, clearly enjoying the attention. “But hey, you know where to find me if you change your mind. I’ll make sure to clear my schedule. Maybe we can recapture some of that Berlin magic.”
He winked- actually winked- and sauntered off to join his team.
The silence he left behind was suffocating.
Finally, Soap broke it. “Berlin?”
You shrugged, returning to doctoring your coffee. “It was a joint task force operation. Two years ago, like I said.”
“And you…” Gaz trailed off, eyebrows raised.
“Yes.”
“With Graves.” Soap’s voice was flat.
“With Commander Graves, yes.” You turned to face them, meeting each of their stares head on. “Is there a problem?”
Price folded his paper with deliberate precision. “Did we say there was a problem?”
“You’re all looking at me like I kicked a puppy.”
“We’re just… processing,” Gaz said diplomatically.
Ghost’s voice cut through, dry as bone: “Didn’t take you for someone with poor judgment.”
You snorted. “It was one weekend. Casual. And for the record, it was perfectly good judgment at the time. Mission was over, we were both consenting adults, and I have no regrets.”
“No regrets,” Soap repeated, something dangerous in his tone. “About Graves.”
“Should I?” You challenged, feeling your own temper stir, offended as they questioned your life choices. “I’m pretty sure I’m allowed to have a past.”
“Course you are,” Price said, but his jaw was tight. “Just didn’t realize your past included…”
“Included what? Men you don’t like?” You crossed your arms. “Grow up.”
“How was it?” The question came from Ghost, and everyone turned to stare at him.
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me.” Ghost leaned back in his chair. “How was it? With Graves.”
You could’ve deflected. Probably should have. But you’d never been good at backing down, and something about their collective judgment made you want to defend yourself even if a voice in the back of your head said you were just going to poke the bear.
“It was alright,” you said with a shrug. “Better than most, if I’m being honest. Actually…” you paused, taking a sip of coffee, “probably one of the best I’ve ever had.”
The reaction was immediate and visceral.
Soap’s mug hit the table with a thud. “You’re joking.”
“One of the best?” Gaz’s voice had gone up half an octave.
Price’s knuckles were white where they gripped the report.
Ghost had gone preternaturally still.
You blinked at them, genuinely confused by the intensity of their reactions. “What? You asked.”
“One of the best,” Soap repeated, standing now. “Graves. Commander Philip Graves, who can’t shut his mouth for five seconds and wears those ridiculous sunglasses indoors-”
“I didn’t say he was perfect, I said the sex was good. There’s a difference.”
“Better than-” Gaz cut himself off, glancing around the room. They were still in public, even if most people had cleared out when the tension started rising. “Better than most?”
“Are you actually offended right now?” You stared at them. “This is ridiculous.”
“It’s not ridiculous,” Soap said hotly. “It’s-it’s-”
“It’s Graves,” Price finished, and somehow that explained everything.
You looked between the four of them and suddenly understood. This wasn’t about you having a past. This was about their egos. Their pride. Their absolute inability to accept being second best at anything, especially to someone they considered inferior.
And especially not at this.
“Oh my god,” you said slowly. “You’re jealous.”
“We’re not jealous,” four voices said in unison, which was probably the least convincing denial in military history.
“You are.” A laugh bubbled up despite yourself. “You’re actually jealous of Graves.”
“Not jealous,” Ghost corrected. “Competitive.”
“That’s the same thing!”
“It’s really not,” Gaz muttered.
Soap had started pacing. “One of the best. One of the bloody best. What does that even mean? Top five? Top three?”
“I’m not ranking my sexual encounters like a mission debrief, Johnny.”
“Why not?” he shot back. “Seems like useful information.”
You pinched the bridge of your nose. “Can we not do this here?”
“Do what?” Price was genuinely curious now.
“Have a breakdown because I slept with someone and thought they were good.”
“It’s about-” Gaz gestured vaguely. “Standards. You have standards, right? And if Graves meets those standards, then what does that say about-”
“About you?” You finished. “Nothing. It says nothing about you because you’re not in competition with my past.”
The look they exchanged said otherwise.
“Don’t,” you blurted out preemptively.
“Don’t what?” Soap asked, voice too casual.
“Whatever you’re thinking. Don’t.”
“We’re not thinking anything,” Gaz said, which was absolutely a lie.
You knew that tone. You’d heard that tone before, right before they’d decided to turn a simple reconnaissance mission into a competition over who could get the most actionable intelligence. It had been effective but exhausting.
“It was two years ago,” you said firmly. “It was fine, it’s over. Can we please move on?”
“Fine?” Soap pounced on the word. “You said fine? But Graves was great.”
“It was an exaggeration.”
“Was it though?” This from Ghost, who had actually stood up now. “In my experience, Graves is many things, but he doesn’t usually undersell his own accomplishments.”
You stared at him. “Are you defending Graves right now?”
“I’m establishing accurate parameters.”
“Parameters for what?”
The look they all exchanged was brief but telling. In that single moment of silent communication- the kind they’d perfected over countless missions- you saw them come to some kind of collective decision.
“Nothing,” Price said, but his slight smile suggested otherwise. “Just thinking it’s interesting, that’s all.”
“What’s interesting?”
“That you considers Graves some of the best you’ve ever had,” Gaz said thoughtfully. “Makes a man curious about the standards being applied and if someone can raise them.”
“Oh my god.” You could see where this was going now, clear as day. “No. Absolutely not.”
“No what?” Soap asked innocently. Too innocently.
“Whatever competitive insanity you’re all cooking up right now, the answer is no.”
“We’re not cooking up anything,” Price said. “Are we, lads?”
“Nothing at all, Cap,” Gaz agreed.
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Soap added.
Ghost said nothing, but his silence was somehow the most ominous of all.
You pointed at each of them in turn. “I know how you people think. I’ve seen you turn loading supply trucks into a competition. You’re not turning my sex life into another one of your challenges.”
“Your sex life?” Price raised an eyebrow. “No, love. This isn’t about your sex life.”
“Then what’s it about?”
He moved closer, and despite everything, your breath caught. “It’s about performance metrics. Ensuring quality control.”
“Quality control,” you repeated faintly.
“We’re the 141,” Soap said, appearing at your other side. “We don’t do second place. In anything.”
“And if Graves-” Gaz made a dismissive gesture, “-thinks he’s set some kind of benchmark, well…”
“Someone needs to correct that misconception,” Ghost finished.
You looked around at all of them, these competitive, stubborn, absolutely impossible men who apparently couldn’t stand the thought of anyone- especially Graves- being considered the best at something.
Even this.
Especially this.
“You’re all insane,” you managed.
“Probably,” Price agreed easily. “But you’re still here.”
You were. God help you, you were still here, and you weren’t walking away, and they all knew it.
Which is how you would up on Price’s bed with Soap’s head between your legs.
One second you’re in the rec room and the next you’re ushered upstairs, Soap’s mouth on your cunt, and your whole body jerks like someone plugged you in.
It’s wet and hot and pressure. Not a fluttery kiss, he seals over you and pulls, drawing your clit into his mouth and your hips come off the mattress a good inch. His hands slam to your thighs and push, spreading you wider and pinning you at the same time.
“F-fuck- oh god- Johnny.” That’s when your pulse drops, leaves your throat and settles between your legs in a hard, responsive beat. Every time his tongue flicks, it kicks. Every time his mouth sucks, it swells. The nerves there go loud, drowning out everything else.
You can feel your own slick on your inner thighs now, warm and a little messy. When he drags you closer, you slide on it. The sheet under your ass is going to be damp.
He angles his head and finds the exact spot.
You know it because your calves tense and your fingers curl. You try to close your legs around his head, curl around the pleasure, and he just laughs into you, low and smug, and forces your knees apart again. Your hip flexors burn from the stretch. You can feel the tremor start in them.
Above you, the bed dips; someone leans in. A broad, callused palm plants over your lower belly and holds you down. That single extra point of contact changes everything; now you can’t roll, can’t run, can’t arch away. All you can do is feel.
Soap increases his tempo.
Slow at first; long, wet licks from your entrance up to your clit, pausing there, circling. Then tighter, faster, little pulls of suction. Then when you gasp right, he adds tongue and lips and pressure and it becomes this relentless little engine of sensation, over and over, no mercy.
Your stomach knots. Your thighs start to shake properly now, not just twitch. Your nipples rub against the fabric of your bra every time you breathe, and they’re hard, throbbing, needy from the rubbing.
You make a sound.
It’s not pretty. It’s a half choked, wet, needy thing, and it spills out without permission. Someone coos at you for it. A thumb strokes your cheek. Fingers thread through your hair. It all blurs together because the center of you is flooding with heat.
He pushes two fingers inside you and the stretch is immediate; fullness to match the drag of his tongue. A sharp, perfect ache along your inner walls where your body says yes, there. Your cunt clenches around him like it’s trying to pull him in farther. The wet sound is obscene. You hear someone suck in a breath and say “Fuck, look at ‘er.”
Your chest heaves. Your ribs can’t expand enough. You can’t get a full breath because every time you try, Soap does something with his tongue to take it.
You’re right on the edge of that bright drop and your thighs try to close again. He forces them open again.
Your hips try to lift. The hand on your belly forces you down.
Your head tosses side to side, too much, too big, too good. Fingers- whose? Price’s? Gaz’s?- catch your jaw and bring you back to center.
“Look.”
So you do. You blink through the blur and look, and there’s a pair of baby blue eyes watching you come apart, and that alone tips you.
You break.
It’s hot and it’s fast. Your whole pelvis locks, then pulses. Your cunt clamps around his fingers in hard, greedy squeezes. Your clit is burning from the drag of his mouth and you are so wet you can feel your slick slide down toward your ass. Your toes curl, calves cramping, thighs shaking. At the crest, your vision goes white at the edges and your ears rush.
You come hard.
He stays on you.
That’s the killer. He doesn’t back off. He gentles, yeah, but he doesn’t stop. He licks you through it, slow, teasing, gathering everything he pulled out of you, making you feel every last pulse.
Your body shudders in aftershocks. Little heat flares. The muscles in your stomach flutter. You can’t do anything but take it.
Someone’s hand comes up to your chest and rubs, grounding. Another slides under your knee and bends it, easing the strain in your hip. Another strokes the inside of your thigh where his stubble has made it pink.
You sag.
You’re warm everywhere now, skin buzzing, limbs heavy. Your cunt still pulses in little sympathetic squeezes around nothing. If Soap slid his cock in right now, you’d pull him in to the hilt, no resistance.
They move you, fabric drags over your oversensitive nipples and you hiss, arching away, and someone laughs softly and unhooks your bra, slipping it away, soothing your nipples with their thumb. The bed squeaks, wood complaining. A knee slots between your legs and you ride it without meaning to because there’s still ache there, still want.
Another mouth finds your throat. Teeth scrape, gentle. A hand cups you, broad and warm, palm pressing over your still wet clit.
You were still shaking when they decided one orgasm didn’t prove anything.
The bed dipped and shifted around you, weight moving like a tide. You were on your back, knees loose, underwear somewhere halfway down one thigh, trying to remember how to breathe, when a warm hand slid up your stomach and settled just under your ribs. Big palm, callused, heavy enough to say stay right here. Price, then.
“Easy,” he murmured, more in tone than words. You felt it in your skin, not your ears. “You’re alright.”
You were. Your muscles, though, hadn’t caught up. Your thighs had that post release tremble, the one you couldn’t command away. Your belly kept fluttering in little afterpulses. Between your legs you were hot and slick and sensitive, pleasure still fizzing under the surface like it hadn’t decided to leave yet.
And they were all still there.
You were aware of them the way you’re aware of heat behind you. Soap, breathless and smug near your knees. Gaz, closer to your head now, arm along the pillow so you could lean if you needed. Ghost, solid at the side of the bed, one knee on the mattress so he could reach you without crowding.
Four men. Four sets of hands. Four different temperatures of want.
Your body knew it before your brain did: we’re not done.
Price’s hand slid down from your ribs to your hip, then lower, thumb brushing the still damp inside of your thigh. He hummed, quiet, pleased. “Good,” he said like he was noting it for the record. “Soft and wet.”
That should’ve been embarrassing. It wasn’t. Not with the way they were looking at you- like this was data, yes, but also like it was a gift you were like this for them.
Gaz tipped his head, watching your chest rise and fall. “She’s coming back,” he said, the way he might’ve said her vitals are up. “Look.”
You opened your eyes. The room swam into focus- concrete walls, rain on the window, four shadows leaning over you.
Soap grinned down at you, face flushed, mouth a little swollen. “So?” he said. “Better than Graves?”
You meant to snap at him. You really did. But the second your mouth opened, a thumb- Ghost’s, gloved and warm- smoothed over your cheek, and whatever retort you’d had melted.
“Don’t make her talk through it,” Ghost said, voice low. “She’s floatin’.”
You were. Your head felt light, your limbs felt heavy, and under all of it, your cunt still pulsed, slow and needy, because that first orgasm had taken the edge off but not the want. If anything, the want had gotten worse; looser, lazier, more give me more of that.
They saw it.
Price shifted, sitting on the edge of the bed so your back could rest against his thigh. The fabric of his pants was rough against your bare skin, but his palm was warm, moving in soothing circles over your belly. You let your head fall back against him without thinking.
“There we are,” he said voice like gravel. “Let’s get you comfortable.”
Comfortable was relative. Comfortable meant supported while we do more to you.
Soap crawled up again, this time on your left, bracing a hand beside your shoulder, his body radiating heat. Gaz mirrored him on the right, thigh pressed to your hip. Ghost stayed at your feet, big hands sliding up your calves, over your knees, pushing your legs apart again with maddening patience.
Your thighs quivered under his hands. He didn’t let them close.
“Look at that,” Soap said, and there was honest admiration in it. “Still shiverin’.”
“Sensitive,” Gaz agreed, eyes crinkling. “Makes it a fair fight.”
A fair fight. You almost laughed. Nothing about this was fair. It was four world class overachievers deciding one loud American didn’t get to be the gold standard in your head.
Ghost’s hands were firmer now, thumbs pressing into the tender spot where thigh met hip, easing you open inch by inch. You felt the cool air on you again. Felt your own wet, slick and warm against the inside of your thighs. Felt the ache start to build again, low and heavy, because even being held open like that sent a pulse of want through you.
He didn’t touch you right away. That was almost worse. He just kept you open and looked, head bent, breath brushing your inner thigh through the mask. His gaze flicked up to yours, unreadable.
“Still want more?” he asked.
You swallowed. Your throat felt dry. “Yes.”
Price’s hand on your belly stilled for a beat, then resumed, slower. You could practically hear the satisfaction in his silence.
“Good,” Ghost said. “Because we’re not lettin’ Graves win on a technicality.”
Then he touched you.
He dragged two knuckles through your slick and the sensation was so sharp after what Soap had just done to you that your hips tried to jerk away. Price’s arm across your middle kept you exactly where you were.
“Easy,” Price murmured, mouth close to your ear. “Breathe for me.”
You did. In through your nose, out through your mouth. Your body settled, but only in the loosest way. Every nerve from your navel down was on.
Ghost circled you first. Slow, deliberate, dragging wet over the most sensitive part of you in lazy, cruel little loops. It made everything there swell, throb, wake up. It made the ache bloom again, hotter, until you were whimpering into the air, panting from the heat of it.
Then, when you were looking at him, when he had your eyes, he slid two fingers into you.
You gasped. Couldn’t help it. Couldn’t hold it back.
It felt deep immediately. You were still soft and open from the orgasm and your body took him to the knuckle. You could feel your walls flutter around him, a helpless, greedy squeezing. You could feel just how wet you were, how easily he moved, how the motion made obscene, slick sounds between your thighs.
“Fuckin’ hell,” Soap breathed. “Listen to her.”
You heard it too. The wet. The way you caught on his fingers on the way out, then sucked him right back in. Your cheeks burned. Your body didn’t care. Your body wanted more.
Ghost set a rhythm- deep press in, slow pull out, lazy twist at the top that nudged right where you were still sensitive. Every stroke made your hips roll, made your breath catch, made moans spill out past your lips, made that warm, liquid feeling in your belly spread.
Price’s hand slid up to your breasts, fingers curling over the weight of them, thumb brushing your nipples. They were already sensitive and the touch made them tingle more. You arched into his palms without thinking and he made a pleased sound low in his chest.
“Responsive,” he said, mostly to himself. “Like that, do you?”
You managed a nod. Your voice was somewhere under the bed and you could only answer him with moans.
Gaz leaned in and kissed the corner of your mouth. “You look wrecked already,” he murmured, smile against your skin. “That’s good. That’s how we like you.”
Ghost crooked his fingers inside you.
The pleasure changed. Went from warm and spreading to sharp and right fucking there. It sent sparks up your spine. Your thighs tried to close again and Gaz and Soap clamped their hands on the fat of your thighs, held you wide and open, while Ghost worked that spot over and over.
Your breathing went ragged. Your hips started to chase. Your toes curled in nothing. Your hand flew up, searching for something to hold, and landed on Soap’s forearm. You clamped down hard. He just laughed, turned his arm so you could get a better grip.
“Yeah, that’s it,” he said, eyes hungry on your face. “Hold on.”
You could feel yourself climbing again. Already. So soon. Your body didn’t care. It liked his fingers, liked the way they filled and dragged, liked the way Price’s thumbs kept circling your nipples in lazy counterpoint, liked the way Gaz’s mouth kept brushing your jaw, your cheek, grounding you.
“Still with us?” Price asked quietly.
“Yes,” you got out. Barely.
“Good girl.”
Your cunt clenched around Ghost’s fingers at that. Hard. Instinctive. You felt the heat in your face flare.
He felt it too. “Oh, you like that,” he said, tone gone velvet dark. “That what he said to you?” A pointed reference- Graves? Did he say it like that? It should’ve annoyed you but it didn’t. It just sent another pulse of want through you.
“Doesn’t matter,” Gaz said, amused, kissing your temple. “She’s gonna hear it better from us.”
You were too close to answer with a retort. The pressure was right there, sitting low, throbbing. Your thighs were fully trembling now, little uncontrollable shakes. Your belly was tight. Your breath came in hot pants. You knew if he just-
He did.
He added his thumb.
The extra point of pressure on your clit lit you up. It was too much and exactly enough. Your head tipped back on Price’s shoulder. A sound tore out of you, high and helpless.
“Let it happen,” Price said into your hair. “Let it.”
You did.
It rolled over you harder than the first, because your body was already primed, because you were being held this time- one hand at your throat, another at your breast, hips braced, legs kept open. You didn’t have to hold yourself up. You didn’t have to be quiet. You didn’t have to pretend you weren’t falling apart for them.
Your climax ripped through you in tight, fast pulses. Your walls clutched around Ghost’s fingers like you were trying to keep him. Slick flooded out around him, hot and embarrassing and perfect. Your thighs shook, heels digging into the mattress. You might’ve said someone’s name; you weren’t sure which.
They talked but it washed over you. What stuck was touch: Price’s hand on your sternum, grounding; Gaz’s thumb catching a tear you didn’t realize had slipped; Soap’s palm tightening on your knee like there you go, that’s our girl; Ghost’s fingers slowly, carefully easing out of you when the aftershocks got too sharp.
You sagged back, boneless.
Your cunt still fluttered, slow little squeezes in the afterglow. Your thighs glistened. Your skin hummed. You were warm all over, skin prickling, heart finally starting to settle.
Somewhere near your ear, Price chuckled. “That’s two,” he said, smug. “He give you two?”
You huffed a breath that was half laugh, half groan. “Oh my god.”
“She’s not arguing,” Soap crowed.
Gaz leaned his forehead to yours. “That’s because we’re winning,” he said, delighted.
Ghost wiped his fingers on the sheet, then rested his big hand over the inside of your thigh, thumb stroking once, slow. “We’re not done,” he said, and the promise in it made your already overworked nerves spark again.
You believed him. Every part of you, flushed, wet, and trembling, believed him.
Price shifted behind you.
“Alright,” he says, voice low, that command layer threaded through it. “My turn.”
You feel him move, feel the bed dip differently, feel his thighs open so there’s room for you. A hand slides under your knee and guides your leg over his until suddenly you’re straddling one of his legs, back against his chest, his arm a wide band across your front, holding you steady.
He’s warm everywhere you touch him. Solid. Bigger than you in all the places that matter for this. You can smell him, too, smoke, wool, the faint metallic smell of weapons oil. Familiar. Comforting. Infuriatingly hot right now.
You’re still soft from coming. Still wet. When he palms your hip and pulls you backward over him, you feel just how wet; you slide on yourself, on the inside of your thigh, on the sheet. You make a small, uncontrolled sound at your own slickness.
“Yeah,” he murmurs against the side of your face. “That’s what I thought.”
There’s movement below you: a belt unbuckling, the soft metal jingle, zipper down. You don’t have to look to know what he’s doing. Your body knows; your muscles get ready. Your hips go loose and expectant. Your cunt gives a slow, hungry little pulse like yes, now.
He fits his hand between your legs first, checking like he didn’t just watch Ghost make you flood. His fingers drag through you, gather you, stroke you. The touch is gentler than Ghost’s was, not searching for a spot, just confirming you’re ready for weight.
You are. God, you are.
“Still open,” he says, and you can hear the approval. “That’s good, sweetheart. Gonna make this easy.”
You don’t even realize you’ve tipped your head to his shoulder until his beard scrapes your temple. His mouth is right there, breath warm, words for you, just you. That alone makes your chest go hot.
“Hands on me,” he says. “Hold on.”
You do. One arm goes back around his neck, dragging his collar down so you’ve got something to grip. The other braces on his thigh. You can feel the muscle there, hard even relaxed.
The others have gone quiet.
They’re still close. You can feel Soap at the edge of the bed, practically vibrating. You can feel Gaz leaning in to see. You can feel Ghost standing sentry, watchful, but there’s a charged waiting in all of them now; the kind you get right before breaching.
Price angles his hips.
You feel his cock thick, hot, and heavy pressing against you from below. It’s blunt at first, just a nudge at your entrance, sliding in your wet. Your breath stops. Every muscle lower than your ribs goes tight, held in that exquisite almost there.
He hears it. “Breathe,” he reminds you softly. “Don’t lock up on me.”
You force air into your lungs. It shudders on the way out.
Then he pulls your hips down.
It’s a slow, controlled push. He’s too big and you’re too sensitive for him to just drive in, so he eases you over him, inch by steady inch. The stretch is immediate and deep. You feel it all the way up your spine. Your body parts around him because you’re open and slick and primed, but it still burns for a second and tells you you’re getting full.
“There’s it is,” Soap said somewhere off to the side, almost reverent. “Look at how she’s takin’ him.”
You felt it even with your eyes closed: three men leaning in, watching the way your body gave for Price. You were too busy feeling it to be shy.
Because once he got past that first thick resistance, your body just… went. The muscle ring eased, the wet did its job, and you sank. You could feel every ridge, every vein, the heat of him. You could feel the difference between the blunt, stretching first half and the deeper, thicker second half. You could feel your own slick being pushed up around his cock.
Your breath came out on a shaky, “Oh-”
“Good girl,” Price said in your ear, voice gone rough. His arm tightened around your middle to keep you from scrambling away from the intensity. “Knew you’d take me.”
That praise lit you up. Your cunt clenched around him hard. He groaned low in his throat, vibrating against your back where you felt it more than heard it.
“Fuckin’ hell,” Gaz muttered, delighted. “She’s squeezin’ him already.”
“Course she is,” Soap said. “She’s still warm from before.”
Ghost didn’t say anything, but you heard the small, sharp inhale he always did when something impressed him.
Price held you there for a beat, fully seated, your ass on his thighs, your back to his chest, his cock buried in you to the hilt. It was a lot. Full, hot, so deep it nudged at places Ghost’s fingers hadn’t reached. It made your stomach feel heavy and your chest feel light. Your body wanted to move, to rock, to chase, but he didn’t let you. Not yet.
“Feel that?” he asked quietly.
You nodded, too breathless to speak.
“Tell me.”
“S’full,” you slurred, cheeks hot. It felt silly to say, but it was the truth. “You’re- full.”
“That’s right.” He sounded indecently pleased. “That’s the bit he couldn’t give you.”
Your back arched when he pulled almost all the way out.
The drag was obscene, long and slow, your walls gripping, reluctant to let him go. You could feel the way you narrowed again around the thickest part of him, the way your wet clung, glistening on his cock. At the top of the stroke he stayed right at your entrance, head just inside, letting you feel the emptiness he’d leave if he pulled out.
Your whole pelvis tipped, chasing him back.
Price laughed, low. “Oh, you liked that.”
Then he pushed back in, a little faster.
It rocked your whole body every thrust translated through his thighs and into your spine. Your breasts jostled; his forearm across your chest pushed them up. Your head fell back on his shoulder, mouth open.
He found his pace quickly, not jackhammering- he wasn’t showing off for the lads. He was demonstrating. Deep, confident strokes, bottoming out every time, giving you the full length so you couldn’t accuse him of holding back.
Every thrust pressed you down onto the mattress and up into his chest at the same time. Every thrust made your clit drag against the heel of his hand where it was braced on your hip. It stacked sensation- deep stretch inside, blunt friction outside- and your nerves lit right back up.
Your thighs tried to close and his big hand slid down and caught the inside of your knee, pushing it back open, letting the others see him inside you.
“She’s made for it,” Gaz said, softer. “Look at her.”
You were half gone already. Your breathing had gone high, breathy, those quick little pants that always came out of you when you were being taken instead of doing the taking. Your hands had locked on him, your cunt fluttering around him every time he bottomed out, that desperate, helpless squeezing.
He felt it. “There she goes,” he murmured. “She’s climbing again.”
You were. Faster than before. It hadn’t even been five minutes since Ghost worked you over and already your body was stringing itself tight again because now you were full, now you had weight, now you had rhythm. Your clit, still tender, zinged every time he drove you down. Your belly tightened. Your toes curled.
Price angled his hips a fraction and suddenly he was hitting a spot that made your vision blur.
You made a sound- high, keening, moaning.
“There?” he asked, voice tight.
“Yes- yes- don’t stop- please-”
He hit it again. Again. Held you down this time so you couldn’t wiggle off it. Your mouth dropped open. Heat flooded your face, your chest, your whole pelvis. Your legs shook against his hand.
“That’s the one,” Gaz said, almost delighted. “Right there.”
“Keep her there,” Ghost said. “Make it clear.”
He did.
You couldn’t run. You couldn’t even think of running. His arm was a bar across your chest; his hand was a clamp on your thigh; his thighs were solid under you. He just kept driving up, slow and merciless, right into that spot, each stroke punching a breathless sound out of you.
Your first and second orgasms had been waves. This one built like pressure. Tight, hard, insistent. Your cunt started to clamp in short, frantic squeezes. Your nails dug into his shoulder. Your head tipped back, baring your throat.
He bent and bit you there making you gasp.
That did it.
You broke around him, muscles locking and then spasming. Your walls gripped him so hard it dragged a groan out of his chest. Heat rushed down through you, out along your thighs, up through your spine. Your whole body shook. You might’ve said “Cap’in,” you weren’t sure.
He didn’t stop. He rode you through it, pace steady, letting your spasms milk him, letting you feel every inch of him inside you while you were at your most sensitive as he groaned and spilled deep into your cunt with a groan.
“That’s three,” Ghost said, satisfied. “He do three?”
You couldn’t answer. Your brain was white noise. All you could do was gasp and babble and hold on and feel.
Price finally slowed, then stilled, cock still deep, arm still locked around you. You were limp against him, boneless, chest heaving. Sweat was cooling on your stomach. Your thighs were a mess between wet and shaking and being forced open.
He kissed the side of your head. “Good,” he said, praise thick. “That’s my girl.”
Around you, the others moved.
You felt Soap climb onto the bed properly now, not just hovering. Felt Gaz shift closer to your knees. Felt Ghost come around the foot, big and quiet, watching you with that evaluating look.
“You want a turn?” Price asked, still inside you, not even pretending he’d pull out yet.
“Oh, absolutely,” Soap said, hungry. “She’s soft as fuck now.”
Gaz laughed. “You just want to see if you can top that.”
“Mate, I know I can top that.”
Ghost’s eyes flicked over you, taking in the flushed face, the trembling legs, the way you were still clenching around Price even as you came down. “She can take more,” he said.
You made a weak, protesting sound that wasn’t really a protest.
Price chuckled into your hair. “Hear that?” he said. “She wants it.”
Price kept you on him for a moment longer, big arm banded across your front, chest to your back, thighs snug under your ass. You were still pulsing around him in little, involuntary squeezes, and every one of them made his breath hitch warm against your ear.
“Well?” he asked the room, smug. “That feel like Berlin to you?”
Ghost shifted at the foot of the bed, mask tipped like he was taking notes. “So far,” he said, dry as bone, “that’s us: 3. Graves: fuck all.”
You managed a laugh, weak and breathy. “You’re all… ridiculous.”
“Competitive,” all four of them said at once.
Price finally eased you off him. You felt every inch of it; felt the drag, the last thick stretch, the way your body tried to hold him and then had to let go. You gasped softly at the loss, hips twitching. He steadied you with both hands, murmuring, “Easy, love,” as he guided you forward.
The second you were clear, Soap was there.
“C’mere, then,” he said, hands already on your waist, warm and eager. “My turn.”
Soap pulled you onto your hands and knees near the middle of the bed, the mattress complaining. You were loose limbed and shaky, so he did half the work himself, tucking your knees under you, keeping a palm between your shoulder blades so you didn’t fold.
“Oh, look at you,” he said, a low whistle in his voice when he got a full view. “Messy wee thing.”
You flushed hot. You were messy: your slick on your thighs, Price’s cum dripping out of your on the blanket, thighs still trembling. You would’ve dropped your head in your arms if Gaz hadn’t reached in and tipped your chin up.
“Don’t hide,” he cooed. “We wanna see you.”
Ghost made a little approving sound. “That’s the point.”
Soap looked over your shoulder. “So?” he challenged. “Cap do good?”
Price, still catching his own breath, wiped a hand over his beard. “She came,” he said, a little too pleased.
“Then I’ll make it four,” Soap said. “An’ then we can tell Graves to get fucked.”
“You did tell him that,” Gaz reminded him.
“Aye, but now I can tell him why.”
You felt Soap line up behind you, heat against the back of your thighs, chest to your back for a second as he reached down to guide his cock towards your entrance. His left hand stayed right in the small of your back, keeping you in position.
Soap pushed in.
He wasn’t as patient as Price- he was eager, and you felt that in the way he rolled his hips, in the way his hand tightened on you when he felt how easily you took him. You were wet enough, and already open; your body gave. You gasped- couldn’t not, after being so full already. Your arms shook. Gaz immediately slid closer on the bed and let you grip his wrist.
“Price did the hard work,” Gaz said, but he was grinning, cupping your cheek with his free hand so you’d look at him. “How’s he feel, love?”
“S’ good,” you got out, words breaking on a breath. “He’s-”
“Better?” Soap said, smug, starting to move for real now.
You couldn’t answer right away because Soap fucked differently than Price. Price was heavy and deep and sure. Soap was energized. He rolled through his hips like he fought, like he danced, like he couldn’t keep still if you paid him. Every stroke had a little snap at the end, a little lift of your hips, a little grind that dragged over every sensitive place Price had already woken up.
Your arms almost gave. Your elbows dipped. Gaz caught you around the shoulders and pulled you up, settling you half against his chest so you weren’t bearing your whole weight. It changed the angle, your back curving, your hips tipping, and Soap groaned when he felt it.
“Oh, that’s better,” he said. “Fuck, that’s better.”
Price moved in behind him, one hand landing on Soap’s shoulder like, pace. “Don’t blow your load in five seconds, Sergeant.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it, Captain,” Soap said, but he slowed just enough to keep you from being overwhelmed.
Your body, though, was already there. Every thrust pressed slick heat up where you were still tender. Every time he bottomed, you felt that deep, aching fullness, your walls clinging to his cock. You could hear yourself wet, obscene, a steady rhythm under the creak of the bed. Your thighs started to shake again, traitorous.
“She’s goin’ again,” Soap said, awed, angling his hips, his dick pressing deeper and making you whine against Gaz’s throat.
“She’s not gonna last long with you showboatin’,” Price said.
“She doesn’t have to,” Gaz said, mouth at your ear. “That’s the point.”
Ghost had moved closer, right at the foot now, one knee on the mattress, watching you from the best angle. You could feel his eyes on where you were joined. You could feel the heat of him even not touching you.
“Look at that,” he said, voice gone low, almost hungry. “That’s four. She’s taken two cocks and she’s still asking for it.”
You were. Your hips were pushing back to meet Soap’s, small desperate motions. Your hand on Gaz’s wrist had gone from holding to clutching. Your breath came in high, sweet bursts.
Soap slid his hand around your front, over your belly, down.
“Johnny,” Price warned.
“Relax,” Soap said. “I’m helpin’ her.”
His fingers found your clit, already swollen and slick and went straight to steady, tight circles, timed with his thrusts. Your whole body jolted.
You made a noise that wasn’t words.
“There she is,” Gaz murmured, holding you upright. “There we go. Let it happen, pretty girl.”
Soap laughed, ragged. “Aye, let it- fuck- listen to her.”
You couldn’t hold it back. Your body was too ready, too worked, too wet. The combination- full inside, rubbed right there, held and watched and praised- ripped another climax out of you. This one was messy and loud, your muscles going tight-tight-loose, thighs shaking so hard Soap had to clamp his arm around your middle to keep you from dropping as he buried deep and came, flooding your sensitive cunt with his release.
“That’s four,” Ghost said immediately. “Graves: still nowhere.”
You dropped your forehead to Gaz’s shoulder, breath tearing in and out of you. He cupped the back of your head, pressing a kiss to your hairline. “Good girl,” he said. “So good. You with us?”
“Yeah,” you panted, tears sliding. “Yeah.”
“Need a minute?” Price asked, voice back to that command soft.
You thought about it. Your body was thrumming, muscles liquid, thighs sore in a good way, your cunt still fluttering around Soap where he’d slowed to a lazy grind to keep you from getting shocked. You could have taken a minute.
You didn’t want to.
“No,” you said, surprising yourself with how sure it came out. “Don’t… stop.”
You felt all of them react to that.
“Fuck, I love her,” Soap said, groaning, pulling out slow, another long, obscene drag that made your eyes roll. “Right. Trade.”
Gaz laughed, delighted. “My go.”
He was smoother about it.
While Soap eased out, Gaz was already shifting you, rolling you gently onto your back again, then tugging your hips toward him. His hands were warm, steady, different from the other two: less force, more coaxing. He bent, kissed you once, slow and deep, like a palate cleanser.
“How we doing?” he asked against your mouth.
“Fuzzy,” you murmured. “Good. Fuzzy.”
“Fuzzy’s good,” he said. “Means we’re doing it right.”
He pushed your knees up, opening you again, and glanced back at the others. “You lads want to see?” he asked, shameless. “Come round. She’s gorgeous like this.”
They did.
Price came to your left, hand braced by your head, beard shadowed, eyes heavy. Soap flopped to your right, still flushed, watching like he wanted to dive back in the second he got the nod. Ghost stayed at the foot of the bed, looming, mask down, eyes dark.
Gaz stroked you first, just fingers, slow up your slit, spreading your slick and Price’s and Soap’s cum along your cunt. “Still so wet,” he said, low. “God, you’re perfect.”
Then he pushed into you.
He was between Price’s deep and Soap’s eager. He sank in steady, watching your face, slowing when you gasped, pushing when you relaxed. Your body welcomed him, open and dripping and aching for it. Even so, the stretch made your breath stutter and your hands grab for whoever was closest.
Price gave you his, lacing his fingers in with yours. “Here,” he said, and you held on.
Gaz bottomed out and stayed. You could feel him everywhere, thick inside, pressing low, your walls hugging him after so much use. Your belly fluttered again.
“Fuck,” Soap whispered. “She’s still clenchin’.”
“Means we’re not done,” Gaz said, beginning to move.
His pace was cruel in its own way. Not the driving authority of Price or the showy roll of Soap, this was measured. Just fast enough to keep you on the high, just deep enough to hit where you were tender. He knew he didn’t have to prove he could make you come, Price and Soap had already done the heavy lifting. He wanted to prove he could keep you there.
He did. Within a minute you were right back on the ledge, breath short and hiccuping, thighs trembling, slick loud between you, hands switching from Price’s wrist to Soap’s forearm, back to Price’s shirt, sobbing and sniffling with each thrust. Your clit was throbbing, begging for touch.
Gaz gave it, of course. Thumb down, gentle circles, perfectly in time.
“Yeah,” he murmured when your mouth dropped open and your back bowed and lewd desperate sound fell past swollen lips. “There she is. Gimme another.”
“Another?” you gasped, half pleading, half hysterical laughing.
“You said Graves was ‘one of the best,’” he said, smiling through the words. “We’ve got to bury that score, love.”
You couldn’t even argue because you could feel it right there again, that tight, spiraling tension building from the inside out; because the others were watching you like they were cataloguing every twitch; because Price was murmuring, “C’mon, love,” and Soap was chanting, “There ya go, there ya go,” and Ghost was saying nothing but looked satisfied.
You shattered again.
It rolled over you like a breaking wave, less sharp than the last, but wide, everywhere, making your toes curl and your back arch and your fingers dig into whatever you were holding. Your cunt spasmed around Gaz in hot little pulses. He groaned, hands tightening on your thighs, but kept moving slow to draw it out until you were scrambling and wiggling and sobbing from the sheer pleasure of it.
It was the wild look in your eyes, the near frantic pleasure at being overstimulated, blubbering into the air as Gaz kept thrusting, prolonging your orgasm into too much, that broke him, pushing in deep and stilling with a groan as he added his cum to Price’s and Soap’s.
You whimpered, overstimulated now, hips trying to twist away. Gaz caught it immediately and slowed, then stopped, still inside you but not moving. “Okay,” he said softly. “There we are. Breathe.”
You did, trembling all over now, thighs, stomach, even your arms. Sweat dripped on your neck. Your hair stuck to your cheek. You were aware of everything: the wet between your legs, the steady heat of a cock still buried in you, the weight of hands on your knees, your chest, your cheek.
Then there was Ghost.
“Shift,” he said quietly.
No one argued. Gaz eased out carefully making you whine- God, you felt that- and ghosted back. Price and Soap moved enough to give him room. You were boneless, pliant. You watched him take off his gloves, one finger at a time, setting them on the nightstand.
He came to the foot of the bed and took your ankles in his bare hands. His palms were hot, big enough to wrap nearly around. He slid you down toward him, closer to the edge. Your ass met the edge of the mattress, thighs spread over his forearms, knees kicked up, your back arched because there was nowhere else to go.
You were already wrecked.
Everything from your navel down felt wet, hot, loose. Skin clammy from sweat. Inner thighs slick where your own arousal had dried and then been replaced and then smeared again. Your muscles had that aftershock tremor- little twitches in your quads, belly fluttering, shoulders quaking when you tried to push up on your elbows.
He took one look at you and huffed behind the mask, low and satisfied. “Yeah,” he said. “That’s more like it.”
He wasn’t rushed, but he wasn’t delicate either. He hooked your right leg up over his shoulder; high, opening you farther than the others had and the stretch at the back of your thigh burned.
“Easy,” Price murmured from somewhere by your head, palming your shoulder. “He’s got you.”
Ghost caught your other knee and shoved it out with his hips, there was nowhere to put him. He took up the whole end of the bed, arms, shoulders, chest, all of it. You were small against him now, laid out, thighs spread over a frame that could pin three people if he wanted.
You felt his size before you felt him.
His shadow blocked the ceiling. His thigh brushed the mattress and the whole thing groaned. His hands spanned your hips like they were handles. When he bent a little, bracing one palm beside your ribs, the bed dipped like someone had dropped a sandbag.
“Want more?” he asked.
You nodded, breath already short.
“Good.”
He dragged his cock through you once and that alone nearly short circuited you.
Because you were soaked now, used and soft, and he was thick. Thicker than Price. Different shape than Soap. Longer than Gaz. He slid through your mess in a long, slow stroke, head bumping your clit, smearing heat everywhere. Your hips jumped like you’d been shocked.
“Oh-”
“Christ,” Gaz breathed, watching from beside your knee. “She’s still that wet?”
“Yeah,” Soap said, all wonder. “We did that.”
Ghost lined up.
You saw it only in a flash- cock big, flushed, heavy in his fist and then it was gone, pressed to your swollen cunt, right where you were open. You felt the blunt head nudge and everything in you locked, not from fear but from pure instinct: big, big, big.
“Breathe,” he said, like he’d been waiting for it. “Or it’ll hurt.”
You pulled air. Chest rising, shaking. Price’s hand slid up to your throat thumb under your chin to tip your face up so he could see your eyes.
“Right here,” he said. “With us.”
Ghost pushed.
There was zero give for the first second. You were open, but you were also swollen and sensitive, and he was a lot. The pressure was deep, powerful, like someone slowly forcing a fist into clay. Your mouth fell open in a silent oh, eyes going wide.
“Fuckin’ hell,” Soap said again, because apparently that was his phrase tonight. “Look at her-”
“Johnny,” Price warned, but his voice was tight too.
Ghost didn’t slam. He didn’t have to. He just leaned his weight in, inch by relentless inch, and let your own wet do the rest. Your body had to yield. And that was the moment your brain just… flickered.
Because it was too much.
Stretch, deep in your pelvis. Burn, not sharp but huge. Fullness that pushed on places the others hadn’t. Your back arched hard, heels digging into his shoulders, trying to find leverage that didn’t exist.
“Si-” you gasped, name torn out of you.
“Yeah,” he said, voice low, pleased. “Say it.”
He was halfway in and you already felt full. Crowded. Your cunt squeezed around him in shocked little spasms, trying to pull him in and push him out at the same time.
“Fuck,” Gaz said, softer. “She’s clamping down on him.”
“’Course she is,” Price said, hand still at your throat, thumb rubbing your jaw. “He’s wreckin’ her.”
He was. He absolutely was.
Ghost gave you maybe two seconds to adjust, then he pushed the rest of the way.
It knocked sound out of you. A strangled, punched out cry that wasn’t even a word. Your vision went hot white at the edges. Your hands flew out, grabbing for anything- blanket, shirt, wrist. Soap shoved his forearm under your palm on reflex so you had something solid to claw at.
“Got you,” he said, eyes wide. “S’okay, s’okay.”
Your body took Ghost’s cock, because it had no choice, because you were so wet he could’ve slid forever, because the three men before him had already made you pliant. But where Price and Soap and Gaz had felt like they fit, Ghost felt like he filled. Like there was nowhere he wasn’t.
He bottomed out and held.
You could feel him in your belly- cock heavy, hot pressure low and deep. You could feel him nudging at your cervix, you could feel your own slick squeezed around him, you could feel your pulse beating against the underside of him.
Your brain went white.
Not “I can’t think of a comeback.” Not “wow, this is good.” Actual blank space. Everything narrowed to he’s inside me, he’s so big, I can’t- I can’t- oh god-
You stared up at the ceiling, mouth open, chest stuttering. Sound was distant- men talking, praising, swearing- but it was like it was happening down the hall. The only thing close was his weight and the bed and the way your body was struggling to remember how to relax around him.
“Breathe,” Price said again, firmer. “C’mon, love. In. Out.”
You dragged air. It trembled.
Ghost’s big hand slid down your thigh, over your knee, to the underside of it. He hitched your leg higher over his shoulder, angle changing, hips dipping so he wasn’t ramming your cervix, just pressing deep.
“Good girl,” he said then, and you felt the words more than heard them. “Took me. Look at you.”
You couldn’t. Your eyes rolled a little. Your fingers dug into Soap’s arm; he hissed and let you.
“Look at her,” Soap said, voice gone soft with awe. “She’s floatin’.”
Gaz laughed under his breath, gentle. “She’s gone.”
Ghost started to move, a slow, dragging pull, to the point where you could feel every ridge of him, your own walls clinging desperately, and then a steady, heavy drive back in that rocked your whole body. The mattress creaked. Your breasts bounced. Your mouth kept making these little punched out sounds you couldn’t control.
The best and worst part was the weight. Every time he came down, his hips met the backs of your thighs with a solid, meaty thock, and because he had your legs hooked over his shoulders, it pinned your pelvis to where he wanted you. You couldn’t lift to meet him. You couldn’t squirm away. You could only take that deep, filling stroke.
Your eyes unfocused.
Your mouth went wet and open.
Your thoughts- what was left of them- ran in circles: big, deep, can’t, yes, yes, yes-
“Yeah,” Soap murmured, almost proud. “That’s the one, Ghost. That’s the one that’s gonna wipe Graves right out of her head.”
Ghost’s eyes flicked up at him, dark and amused. “That the brief?”
“Absolutely the brief,” Gaz said. “Mission critical.”
“Then hold her,” Ghost said. “She’s slippin’.”
Price’s arm came under your shoulders and lifted you partway so you weren’t flat, so you had him to lean on. Your head flopped to the side against his chest, lips parted. He cupped your jaw, thumb on your cheek, steady.
“Come back,” he said quietly. “Want you to feel him.”
“I-” you managed, voice thin. “I feel him.”
“Oh, I know you do.”
Ghost changed the angle again, just a small shift of his knee, a deeper drive of his hips and that was it. That was the key. Suddenly he was stroking over that spot inside you the others had found, but from lower, heavier, fuller, and your whole body spasmed.
“Oh- oh, fuck-“
“There she is,” Gaz breathed. “There it is.”
Your climax came up like a sucker punch.
No build. No slow climb. Just here. Your cunt clenched around him so hard it wrung a low, filthy sound out of Ghost. Your back bowed against Price’s arm. Your legs tried to close around his shoulders and couldn’t, he was too broad, he kept you open, made you take every pulse of it.
It was the kind of orgasm that blanks a mind.
Sound dropped out. Vision whited at the edges. Your ears filled with rushing. Your body just contracted around him over and over, pulsing, milking, trying to drag him even deeper. Hot slick spilled around him, down over your ass, onto the sheet.
“Fuckin’ look at that,” Soap said, half-laugh, half-disbelieving. “She’s squeezin’ the life outta him.”
Ghost’s jaw flexed. He held your hips down, taking it. “That,” he said, voice gone rough, “is better than Graves.”
Price laughed, low and triumphant, hand stroking your cheek as you rode it out. “There we are,” he said. “That’s the record.”
You could only whimper, body shaking, cunt still fluttering around the thick length still buried in you. You weren’t thinking about Berlin. You weren’t thinking about Graves. You weren’t even thinking words. You were just full, and held, and done.
Everything cut to soft static; weightless, cotton wrapped nowhere. Sound went muffled, like you’d ducked under warm water. Your body was still humming on some deep, molten frequency, but your mind had…let go. Like someone had hit the breaker.
You felt big hands moving you, but from far away.
Your leg was lifted- careful, careful, don’t cramp her- then lowered. Cool air on your thighs for a second, then something warm pressing in. You twitched, a tiny reflex, and a palm smoothed down your hip right away.
“Shhh. S’alright.”
You heard it as vibration, not words.
Your body knew them, though. Knew the cadence of their voices, the way each one sat in your bones. Even floaty as you were, they were still buzzing in your nervous system. Nobody else could’ve touched you right then.
You were rolled, whining because you were sore, onto something broad and warm. A chest. Hair rough under your cheek. Beard bristle against your temple. Arms closing around you, not tight, just there. A heartbeat under your ear, deep and steady. You made a small noise, half sigh, half childlike hum, and melted.
“There we are,” Price murmured, and even though you barely heard it, your neck relaxed. “That’s it. Got you.”
Everything else turned into hands and heat.
Someone at your legs, wiping between your thighs in slow, respectful strokes. He paused every time you flinched and whimpered, waited, then kept going. Someone else tugging the sheet away and swapping it for a cleaner blanket. Someone tucked the blanket under you so you stayed warm. Someone lifting your limp hand and putting a bottle in it, then guiding it to your mouth.
“C’mon, sweetheart,” Ghost said, low and uncompromising. “Need water.”
The rim tapped your lip; you didn’t open.
A thumb stroked your jaw, firmer now. “Open.”
Your mouth parted on reflex. Cool water slid in, shocking compared to all the heat. You swallowed slow, almost lazily. It dribbled from the corner of your mouth; someone thumbed it away.
“She’s barely there,” Gaz said, voice soft with that pleased note medics get when a patient is post op and not distressed. “Look at her eyes.”
“She’s lookin’ right through you,” Soap said, proud. “We sent her to fuckin’ space.”
You weren’t following the words, but you were following the touch. Every time you slipped a bit deeper- down, down- someone reeled you back just enough. A hand over your sternum. Fingers in your hair. A palm cupping the back of your neck. You didn’t have to do anything. They were moving you like a sleepy doll.
Your arms wouldn’t work. Your legs felt like they belonged to someone else. Your whole pelvis was one slow, warm ache, like the echo of being filled was still there even though you felt…empty? Clean? You couldn’t tell. Everything was soft.
“…never seen her this quiet…”
“…you almost did break her…”
“…well she asked for it…”
“…Graves couldn’t do that…”
You drifted lower, your nervous system had finally decided, oh, we don’t have to do anything now. We can just exist. Your breathing slowed. Your mouth stayed parted. Your eyes blinked slow and out of sync.
“Christ, look at her eyelashes,” Soap repeated, grinning. “She’s fuckin’ gone.”
Price huffed a laugh, hand big and slow on your back. “Yeah. She’s ours now.”
Ghost was the only one still a touch clinical. “She’s pale?”
“Flushed,” Gaz said, checking your cheek with his knuckles. “Warm. She’s good.”
“Heart?”
“Steady. Bit fast.”
“Yeah, well.” Soap’s grin turned sharp. “We were spectacular.”
That actually tugged a weak breath of a laugh out of you, more an exhale with a shape. Four heads turned toward you instantly, like you were a radio that had just crackled.
“There she is,” Price said, pleased. “Back with us?”
You were and you weren’t.
You could hear them better, now that you’d taken water and your brain had floated a smidge closer to shore. But your body was still out in the warm sea, rocking. Every sound was filtered through cotton. Every touch was in slow motion. You had no urge to move. No urge to talk.
You were aware mostly of warmth. Warm arm under your shoulders. Warm thigh under your hip. Warm palm at your nape. Warm blanket over your legs. Warm, satisfied men around you like a wall.
“Alright,” Soap said, mischief back, because of course he would ruin the soft moment. “Moment of truth, then.”
“Johnny,” Gaz said in warning.
“What? We have to know.”
“We already know,” Ghost said, perfectly calm. “Look at her. She can’t remember her own name.”
“Yeah but I want t’hear it.”
“Ask her later,” Price said. “She’s milk-brained.”
Milk-brained. That made you want to laugh again. It came out a tiny smile against his shirt.
Soap saw it and crowed. “See? She’s not dead.”
“Fine,” Price sighed, indulgent, rubbing your shoulder. “One question. Then you let her sleep.”
“Deal.” Soap leaned over you, upside down in your vision, eyes bright, hair a mess. “Hey. Sweetheart.”
Your eyes slitted open. Barely.
“You with us?”
A slow blink. “Mhm.”
“Gonna ask you a very important thing, yeah?”
Another blink. You were so tired. But his tone was playful and your body trusted him, so you let the sound out: “Mm?”
“How,” Soap said, sounding like he could burst from smugness, “do we compare to Graves?”
The name hit your fogged brain like a stone dropped in deep water- plop… sink… gone.
Your brows knitted faintly. Your mouth worked. You genuinely searched and came up empty. Not a coy empty. Not a “I’ll say this to boost your ego” empty. A real, floaty, no file found empty.
“Who…?” you mumbled, voice slurry, eyes already sliding closed again.
The room erupted.
“Fuckin’ yes,” Soap yelled, triumphant.
“Told you,” Ghost said, not loud but so satisfied it rang.
“God, that’s beautiful,” Gaz said, laughing, head tipped back.
Price’s chest shook under your cheek. “That,” he said, pressing a kiss to your hair, “is what I wanted.”
You were already gone again, body boneless in their hands, drifting on their voices like sleep:
johnny loved to game. when he gamed, you were there, sat on his lap with his cock inside of you.
he'd already fucked you to exhaustion. you were laying against him, eyes closed with your head on his shoulder. you were both perfectly content.
for once, johnny was gaming quietly. when he did get a little frustrated and loud, you grumbled against him. he quietened down and kissed your head gently.
simon couldn't find either of you. admittedly, he hadn't tried very hard, enjoying the peace and quiet that, for once, permeated your apartment.
but then he tried to find the both of you.
it was rather obvious where you were, looking back. not the kitchen, bedroom or living room, you were bound to be in johnny's gaming room.
light flooded into the room. you groaned and covered your eyes, but johnny shushed you gently and kissed your head.
"sweet'eart," simon mumbled as he approached the two of you.
finally, you looked up at him. "hi, simon," you whispered and kissed his hand.
"johnny."
johnny didn't tear his eyes away from the screen. "lt," he said, hips bucking up in celebration when he completed the level.
you released a moan.
"christ, fuckin' horny mutt," simon mumbled when he took in the look on your face. "he fillin' you up, princess?" he asked and you nodded pathetically. "want me to take you to bed and fuck you good?" he asked and you nodded pathetically again.
simon kissed johnnys head before he pulled you away from him and carried you back to the bedroom.
Simon's got a bit of a crush on 141's new secretary, and it's making him do crazy things. He can't help but get infuriated when he learns you're seeing a doctor on base. He knows it's wrong, but you know what they say...drastic times call for drastic measures.
Contains: simon POV, American!reader, moderate stalking, obsessive!simon, pining and yearning, drinking, unprotected piv sex, oral sex, (f receiving), very brief breeding kink, simon is a lovesick puppy with an emphasis on the sick part
Word Count: 10.4k
Masterlist
Simon wasn't sure how much more he could take.
As much as he loved the sound of your laugh, hearing you laugh because of something another man said was driving him insane.
Ever since you'd replaced Meredith, 141's previous secretary, he'd been plagued with...less than appropriate thoughts of you.
You were a sweet young thing, much too beautiful to be flitting around a big military base like this one. Though you had no military experience, you had filled Meredith's shoes and then some. You were always on top of their paperwork, were a great liaison between the gruff and sometimes grumpy 141 and other departments, and you never forgot their coffee or tea preferences.
At first, he had tried to simply ignore how his gut tingled when you smiled up at him, prompting him to ignore you in an attempt to get over this annoying little crush he seemed to have developed. He knew deep down it was different than how Gaz and Soap felt, both men shameless in the way they flirted with you. Always feeding you cheesy pickup lines that made you roll your eyes and laugh.
He tried to convince himself he was just a man, and staring at your bottom in the skirts you wore around the base was merely instinct. How was he supposed help himself from noticing the color of your bra through one peephole where the buttons in your blouse strained against your breasts? But as time went on, he couldn't ignore how his hands got a little clammy when you'd draw a smiley face on the paper cup you left at his seat, tea made just the way he likes it.
What's worse was Simon knew that he wasn't getting any type of special treatment from you, that you were sweet and even little flirtatious with plenty of other people on the base. Which is what started to drive him mad in the first place. He chastised himself for wanting something as silly as to be the only one getting your little notes and small smiles in the hallways.
He also knew that you were fucking one of the base doctors, Dr. John Carter.
Well, technically he didn't know, it's not like either of you told anyone. But he wasn't stupid.
The guy made up any excuse possible to come all the way up from the med bay to personally drop off paperwork at your desk, always lingering and chatting your ear off until he was paged back. At first, Simon figured he could handle some scrawny, pretty boy doctor lusting after you. Hard to blame him really. But what made it worse is soon you were doing the same thing. You jumped on any reason to go down to the med bay.
Which is where he was now, in the med bay, sitting with Soap as a nurse inspected the bruising welt on the man's arm, which Simon had given him on purpose because he knew you had volunteered to oversee the med student evals.
He watched, silently seething, as you helped him fill out a trainee evaluation from where you were perched delicately on the edge of his desk. Everything he said made you laugh, and Simon had to hold himself back when he watched Carter's eyes trail down to your ass as you walked out of the med bay, papers in hand.
Soap, always down to help his Lt., was giving empty answers to the annoyed nurse who was trying to help him with something he didn't really need help with. As soon as you were out of the room, Soap shooed the nurse away as politely as possible, standing with Simon as they followed out after you. Carter called out a friendly farewell to them and they both simply raised a hand in acknowledgement.
"What's yer plan?" Soap said lowly once the door clicked shut behind them.
"Dunno." Simon mused, "Have'ta think about it."
Soap offered a few options, none of which seemed fitting. Sure he wanted you all for himself, but they couldn't just kill the base's attending.
But truthfully? He had a plan in mind, just not one he ever thought he'd have to put into action.
── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──
He laid in wait for a few days, scoping your apartment out to see what kind of alarm system you had. To his surprise (and dismay) you didn't have one. He tutted to himself, shaking his head as he picked the lock on your back door.
You were trusting a few easy locks and a deadbolt with your life. Eventually, when he moved you in to his house, you'd be perfectly safe.
Once inside, he tried his hardest to remain focused, but he couldn't help himself. He looked all around your things, figuring out your favorite foods, the products you used, the medicine in your bathroom.
He pressed his lips together as he read the label on your antidepressants, concerned about how much of your bubbly personality was a mask. He hummed in satisfaction when his eyes fell on your birth control, at least you were being safe. There were a few other things that caught his eye, your multivitamins and allergy medicine. There was so much he had to learn about you.
Gently closing the medicine cabinet, Simon reached in his pocket for what he came here to do. He slinked around your apartment, not making a sound even on your creaky wood floor, placing a few bugs around a couple rooms. He placed one in your living room, your kitchen, and upstairs in your bedroom. Once he was satisfied, he slipped out the back door, locking it as if he had never even been there. In a parking lot across the street, he was sitting low in the drivers seat of his truck, accessing the mics from the bulky old laptop he refused to get rid of.
He didn't have to wait long, as your car came rolling down the street about 30 minutes later. He couldn't see your apartment from his viewpoint, so the mic in the living room picked up you unlocking your door, he rolled his eyes at the first voice he heard.
"I just can't believe that." Carter said, making you laugh lightly.
"Come on John, you weren't exactly easy on him either." you mused.
The two of you talked about the medical evals from earlier that week, before you put on an American sports game. The sound from the TV muffled your conversation slightly, but Simon had accounted for that in his placement.
What he couldn't account for was when he felt that all too familiar twinge in his chest as he listened to you and Carter chat so casually. You and him were both American, and you were even from the same city. Which Simon had figured was a big reason you gravitated towards Carter in the first place, he reminded you of home. It was probably the only thing Simon was willing to concede that Carter bested him at.
But Simon was going to learn every little detail about you so that you thought of him as home.
He listened as the two of you were engaged in the sports game, cheering and groaning together as your team got the lead, lost it, and then got in back just in time to win the game.
Maybe he should learn more about basketball...
Unfortunately, Simon also had to listen to you and Carter having sex. He had placed the mic right at your headboard, so he heard every gasp, every moan, every squelch of your pussy around Carter's cock.
Selfishly, Simon had hoped you wouldn't sound like you were having a good time. Of course he wanted you to enjoy yourself, but with him not with Carter. But the doctor seemed to be putting his knowledge of anatomy to good use, with the way you were keening for him, whining out his name amongst a slew of curse words and pleas. Simon was mentally filtering out Carter's own words and sounds, only really wanting to hear you. He pondered replacing the mic with a camera, so he could learn what you liked and what you didn't like. But he would prefer for the first time he saw your bare figure to be in person.
As much as you sounded like you were enjoying it, Simon realized you kept having to repeat what you wanted. Where you wanted Carter to touch you, put his mouth on you, how fast you wanted him to go. You were begging him to keep pace, so close to your own finishing line, and Simon chuckled to himself when he heard Carter slowing down and making you groan.
Simon knew he could please you, without you having to think about anything but how he felt inside you.
He chuckled again when he heard the buzz of a vibrator, Carter whining out as he came, and your strangled orgasm came through the headphones.
Soon, you would't have to worry about that anymore. Not in his bed.
He begrudgingly listened to your light pillow talk, before Carter got his things together and left. You cleaned off in the bathroom, and he turned the volume up as you drifted off to sleep, your breath evening out as you dreamt.
Only then did he drive off, back to his own flat, grumbling to himself as he stepped under the hot water in his shower. As he leaned on the cool tile, he wrapped a fist around his cock, which had been screaming for attention since he heard you moaning in bed. Though he was alone, his cheeks still burned with a light tinge of shame as he cast his spend on the wall of his shower, your name falling off his lips.
── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──
It had been two weeks, and Simon was growing tired of his routine. Not of you, he could never tire of you.
But the more he listened to you and Carter, he was growing restless. Not only was he sick of being unknowingly cuckholded, Carter wasn't even consistent in bed with you. Since the first time he listened to the two of you having sex, he learned that you didn't always finish. Simon could tell when you were faking it without even seeing your face. Carter never seemed to know, or maybe he just didn't care enough. Your pleasure was a happy byproduct and not his priority. If Simon had to listen to you turn that vibrator on after Carter was through the door one more time he was going to lose it.
The thing that was keeping him sane was that you never asked Carter to stay the night, even when he offered.
Simon hadn't needed to return past the threshold of your house, but his audible snooping provided him with so much information. So if you went out for a night, sometimes he'd slip inside and poke around. In his defense, most of his poking was innocent things, just to get to know you. Through your CD collection he learned your music tastes, ranging from country when you missed your mother, classic rock when you missed your father, and a mix of pop and hip hop in between. Through your bookshelf he learned your favorite books, a surprising mix of horror, romance, and celebrity memoirs. Through your TV stand he learned that you had a penchant for buying a physical version of movies instead of just renting it.
Simon was also learning your little habits. You hummed and sang while you cooked and cleaned, never doing anything without music to back you up. You cleaned on Sundays, always washed your face even when you came home drunk, and you had broken down and called your ex boyfriend about a week ago. He listened to you talk on the phone with your friends back home, telling them that despite being very happy here in England you still missed them.
Today he was happily lifting weights in the gym, absolutely buzzing. Even his team had commented on his good mood, one they so rarely saw from him at this point.
Last night he had listened in as you had a few friends over for a movie night, and they were asking how your job was going, all normal things. He rolled his eyes at how you talked about Carter, and how your friends swooned when you showed them a picture. But none of that mattered, it was what you said about him that had him on a high.
You had told them about all of 141, making him chuckle with your descriptions of his teammates. According to you, Price was handsome but strict in a fatherly way that sometimes made you feel like you were being babysat. Soap and Gaz were both hot and though they laid it on thick you were under the impression that it was all just teasing and they didn't really see you that way. Simon knew those two well enough that if you gave them the chance they'd fuck you right there on base. Hell, even Price would probably sink his teeth into you if offered the chance.
But when you brought him up that's when he sat up and really tuned in.
"He's so...big." you said, making them all giggle, "And he always wears this skull mask. I've never actually seen what he looks like."
"He wears one all the time?!" one of your friends asked, an annoying but familiar question. You took it in stride.
"Yeah, around base its usually just a black balaclava or one with a skull face printed on it. But the one he wears on deployment is like..a big skull plate right on the front. I've never asked but, I dunno, I think it's kinda sexy." you said, the last few words muffled as he pictured you raising your hands to your face in embarrassment.
His chest almost burst. Sexy.
"Not seeing his face is sexy??" a different one asked.
"Listen, like I said he's huge. Super tall, built like a truck. His arms are massive. With tattoos." your voice sounded so much sweeter when he was the topic on your tongue.
"And you have a super cute doctor who's basically in love with you." your other friend said. Before he got too angry at your friends for swaying you in the wrong direction, Simon had to remind himself that they only had your best interests in mind. As soon as you were his they'd know the best thing for you was Simon.
"And maybe if he was staying here then I'd be more open to putting a label on us." you said, making Simon's brow furrow. It was the first time he had caught any wind of Carter potentially leaving the base.
"Plus Simon has been so nice to me lately." you said, smile evident in your voice.
"Nice how?" a friend giggled.
"He's kind of got a reputation on base as a grump." you giggled, making him chuckle, "Like the new recruits are terrified of him. But he's so sweet to me. And he must be paying attention to my desk because he always brings me a hazelnut croissant from Tratoria."
Simon was happy you'd noticed his extra efforts toward you. You were right, he had studied your desk to know what your order from the coffee shop was. He started bringing you your favorite sweet treats, sitting next to you in meetings, making jokes under his breath for only you to hear. You were responding in kind, no more smiley faces on his notes, they'd all been replaced with hearts. Checking in with him while he was in his office, lingering at your desk long enough to walk out with him.
For the rest of the night, you and your friends talked about your love lives, but as your friends droned on he sat there grinning. You had noticed his soft spot for you, and it wasn't going unreciprocated.
While he grinned under his mask and put the weight plates away in the base gym, he recalled that you had mentioned never having a 'real' conversation with him, so he was going to fix that.
Hours later Simon's good mood was being tested by Price, who had thrown him a proverbial mountain of paperwork that would likely take him the rest of the damn day. However, when he heard a soft knock and looked up, the grin was back under the cotton of his mask as you leaned around the doorframe with a little crease in your brow. He waved you in and kept his eyes trained on your face as your heels clicked across the tile.
"How ya doin' in here? I heard Captain Price gave you a bunch of files, and I haven't seen you in hours." you said empathetically, your concern for him making his heart thump in his chest.
"M'fine, sweetheart." he sighed, leaning back in his desk chair with his arms clasped behind his head. He pretended not to notice the way your eyes darted to his chest, then further down to where his shirt was tucked into his cargo pants.
The weight of your stare made gave Simon an idea, "Actually, walk with me?" he asked, making your eyebrows rise in surprise.
"Sure. Where to?" you said with a grin and he matched it, regardless of whether you could see it from under the mask. He stood up and rounded his desk, gesturing to the door.
"Just around the yard. Need some air." he suggested, and you eagerly fell in step next to him.
The two of you walked for 30 minutes around the yard, chatting casually, and it was the happiest Simon had been in years. He bit the bullet and asked if you had heard anything about Carter leaving.
"Oh, yeah," you nodded, "He's headed back to the states to work at hospital in Chicago."
You didn't sound happy about it, but you shrugged as if it was no big deal. After confirming that it was his last month on the base, Simon moved on and changed the subject.
One month, and then you would be untangled, unless of course one were to count your minor entanglement with Simon.
── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──
Over the next month, the two of you took almost daily walks, peppering each other with questions. One day you had come in a little late to the office, worrying not only him but everyone else on the team. That morning you had waved them off with an apology, but on your walk with Simon you confided in him that your neighbor had cornered you, pressuring you to go on a date with him now that he had noticed Carter wasn't coming around on the regular. It had shaken you, and infuriated Simon. He should have been there, but truthfully he had been listening in less and less now that he talked to you so much during the work day.
He offered to be your ride to and from work, and to his slight surprise, you agreed. You had been quieter that day, and he could tell you were still keeping something back about what happened with your neighbor. He had given you his phone number, and told you that if you ever needed him for anything, to call him.
Though you hadn't called him for any emergencies, the two of you texted as much as Simon could handle, as truthfully he wasn't the best texter. And after Carter was gone, you had started leaning on him more, and he was more than happy to be there for you. He'd gotten Soap and Kyle to invite you out to the pub after a quick mission, and you'd started to join them more and more after that.
It was almost amusing to watch men's behavior when you were out at the bar. You seemed oblivious to it but plenty of them paused to watch you walk in, lots had their eyes on you, and you couldn't head to the bar without someone chatting you up, something that seemed to annoy you when Soap teased you about it. You always rolled your eyes, laughing and waving him off as you settled on to the barstool on Simon's right. That's always where you stuck yourself, between him and the wall. Safe.
On the nights he knew you were joining them at the pub, he always drove, and never got drunk, that way he could have an excuse to drive you home. Tonight, you were supposed to be meeting them at their normal pub after you were out with your friends, so he had been nursing a pint for a while now.
"Oh Lt., you are in trouble." Soap laughed, nodding his head towards the door. Simon turned around and his eyes widened as they fell on you.
You had a big grin plastered on your face, hair a little messy from the breeze outside. The tight mini skirt that clung to your hips was a far cry from what you wore around the office, and Simon could feel the fabric of his boxers strain against his hardening cock as his eyes fell on the bottom hem that was dangerously close to your bottom. You scanned the busy room, eyes lighting up as they fell on Simon as you made your way through the crowd.
He had to let go of the pint glass in his hand before he crushed it, watching several men crane their necks for a better view of your ass as you walked past them. He was trying to remind himself he was trying to get you to love him and not be scared of him. No reason to crush anyone's skulls because they were admiring your beauty.
Yet.
Soap let out a whistle when you made it over, making you laugh.
"Why don't you wear this at work, aye?" he slurred, and you smiled, leaning on Simon's shoulder.
"Because I would get fired." you mused, sliding across his back as you tucked yourself into his side as always.
"You want a drink?" he asked you, surprised when you shook your head.
"I think I've had plenty for one night," you groaned with a light laugh, "I need to sober up."
He patted your knee, standing up anyway to get you a glass of water and some crisps. When he got back, you gave him another dopey smile and a soft 'thank you'. He felt his heart tug at the way you trusted him with your safety, something he did not intend to take lightly.
You all chatted and laughed for another hour or so, and you seemed to be sobering up and getting tired so he offered to take you home. You smiled and nodded, bidding the other guys goodbye.
Your arms were wrapped around his bicep on the short walk through the parking lot, a walk that he purposely made slower to drag it out as much as possible. If you had said anything he would have told you that he was walking slower to make sure your heels didn't trip you up. But he just wanted to extend any time you had on his arm. For the first time you had kept your grip on his hand as he drove back to your place, fiddling with his fingers while his hand rested in your lap. The casual nature of the touch making it impossible for Simon not to smile to himself under the mask.
He did as he normally would and walked you up to your door, watching your back as you unlocked it. But this time instead of giving him a hug or a kiss on the cheek before saying goodnight, you hesitated.
"You alright?" he asked, tilting his head to the side. His eyes fell to your lips where you were chewing on your lower lip in nervousness. You blinked a few times before deciding with a shake of your head.
"Yeah, no I'm - it's fine." you said, tripping over your words as you looked down at your feet but staying planted where you were. He didn't respond, put held his eyes on you. When you looked back up at him you reached out to hug him around his neck. His palms splayed across your back as you sighed into his neck. This hug was longer than the others he had gotten from you, and this time when you pulled back you held his face close.
"I really wanna kiss you."
It was barely a whisper, but it made his brain stop short. Your big doe eyes were staring up at him with a look of genuine of affection that Simon was not accustomed to being on the receiving end of. He didn't say anything, opting instead to lift the bottom hem of his balaclava up to his nose. His hand moved up from the small of your back to gently grip behind your neck, pulling you up towards him as he bent down a bit to press your lips to his.
Simon wasn't too proud to admit that he had been thinking about this very moment for months. He'd probably been thinking about it the entire year you'd worked for them. And now that he was in it, feeling the plush skin of your lips press on his it felt like nothing he had ever felt in a kiss before. Sometimes he'd wonder about that 'spark' that some people talked about feeling when they kissed someone, unsure if he had just missed it in previous kisses.
But here in this moment with you it all made sense. The feeling of your lips moving against his, the sound of the sigh you let out as you pressed yourself against his chest, it was all perfect. His arms wrapped around your waist, holding you in place as you craned your neck to kiss him deeper. He smiled into your mouth as your fingertips tugged at the small amount of hair that was now sticking out of the bottom of the balaclava.
You had to be the one to break the kiss, because Simon would have suffocated to death if it meant he never had to detach from your lips. So when you pulled back and took a breath in and giggled at him, his brows furrowed.
"What?" he asked, unable to help the smile on his lips as you grinned. Your hand moved around to the side of his face, your thumb swiping along his bottom lip.
"I got my lip gloss on you," you giggled, making him roll his eyes.
"That's fine," he said, pulling you back up to him so he could kiss you again, "I'll get it at home." he said into your lips. The way you laughed into his mouth went directly to his groin, and this time he was the one to break the kiss as he tried to control himself. Though you were responding in kind to him, you were still drunk and in no shape for any type of sex. This time when you pulled back you just stared up at him.
"You have such a nice smile." you said, voice reverent and fingers still exploring his jaw, "You sure you don't wanna stay?" you added coyly, batting your eyelashes and tilting your head to the side. He almost groaned at your tone, clearly wanting him to come inside and fuck you.
You weren't making this easy.
But he was a man of morals, and he was not John Carter.
"Course I do." he said, his thumb rubbing at the skin above the top of your skirt, "But you're still drunk, my darling." he laughed at the way your bottom lip poked out in protest.
"Oookaaay," you sighed sweetly, drawing the vowels out, "You're missin' out though."
He cocked an eyebrow at you, though he knew you couldn't see it, "Oh?"
"Mmmhmm," you nodded, one of your hands sliding along his arm as he still held you in place, "I've been told I'm a lot of fun when I drink tequila."
"That's good to know," he said, leaning down to speak lowly in your ear, "But the first time I fuck you, you will have your head on straight. Okay?"
He smirked to himself when he heard your little breath, coming out in a huffed laugh. When he stood back up to full height, your pupils were dilated as you nodded up at him.
"Okay." you said, the obedience in your tone and demeanor making his mind go a little fuzzy.
He planted one more kiss on your lips, before the two of you said goodnight and he started to leave. He turned to make sure you were getting inside, both of your heads snapped up to an argument happening a few yards down the road. From what he could see, a man was in the street arguing with someone in an apartment, throwing things up at the windows and kicking bins around in the street. He looked at you and you were already looking at him, all flirtation gone from your eyes.
"Are you sure you can't stay? At least for a little?" you asked, your voice laced with fear. Once Simon heard the waver in your voice he already had his answer. There was no way he could leave while some drunk asshole was causing a problem on your street. You looked relieved as he didn't hesitate to walk back up to your door, gently pushing you inside as he followed you in.
"You don't have to stay long I-" you started, but he waved you off as he locked your door, frowning a bit when he slid the flimsy chain lock that added almost nothing to the actual lock on the door.
"M'not leaving now." he said, pinching your chin between his thumb and forefinger as he placed a quick kiss on your lips. He took a brief moment to savor the casual nature of the peck, satisfied that the two of you had finally crossed that particular line and he could take all the kisses he pleased from now on.
You nodded at him and asked him if he did intend staying the whole night, which he pondered for a moment. It was already pretty late, and neither of you had to be on base tomorrow. So there was really no reason why he would have to leave, nor was there any way he would be able to leave without knowing that you were completely safe. But if you kept telling him how much fun you were on tequila he was in for a difficult night.
"As long as you, young lady, remember that-" he started, and you rolled your eyes and groaned before interrupting him.
"Okay, okay," you said, waving your hand before heading through the living room and into the kitchenette, "I'll stop trying to fuck you. Fine."
As he watched you kick your heels off and pad to the fridge, he wasn't sure he'd ever heard you curse before. He followed you, his boots suddenly sounding heavy on the linoleum.
"You don't gotta stop," he said as you grabbed the water pitcher from the fridge and poured two glasses of water.
"No, no, no. You lost your chance Lieutenant Riley." you teased, and he sucked his teeth as he heard his rank fall from your pretty lips.
"Lieutenant Riley?" he questioned, caging you in against the counter as you turned back to him. You hummed in satisfaction as he pressed his lips on yours again, smiling into the kiss. When he pulled back, you handed him the cool glass in your hands, silently urging him to drink it.
"Unsure where you're gonna sleep though," you pondered, "I don't have a guest room, and that couch is way too small for you, but if you can't control yourself..." you trailed off, making him chuckle.
"I can control myself. Dunno if I can say the same for you, though." he laughed as your face scrunched up at him.
"Hmmm," you hummed, eyes looking him up and down before responding, "Maybe. I don't even know what you really look like. Maybe I don't want you to sleep in my bed."
This earned another laugh from him, but he knew that this day was coming sooner rather than later. So as he felt your eyes on him, he lifted his free hand up and gripped the top of the balaclava. He pulled it off, the skin on his face relishing in the cool air of your flat. He blinked down at you, your eyes wide. He didn't say anything, just cocking his head to the side to prompt a response from you.
"I want you to sleep in my bed." you said, your hands coming up to clasp the sides of his face as you pulled him into another kiss. He smiled against you and reminded you about control, making you groan, "You're so mean. It better be worth the wait."
"Oh it'll be worth the wait. I can promise you that." he chuckled.
After the two of your finished your water, you led him up the stairs to the second floor and showed him your bedroom, and he was mindful to act as if he had never seen it before. You left him alone as you went to wash your face, and as the door to the bathroom closed he peeked around your bed frame at the bug he had placed forever ago. He had listened to so many of your most intimate moments through this tiny piece of technology, and soon enough it would send the sounds of your first time with Simon to the recording device he had in his truck. Something he intended to come back to when he was away on missions, a reminder of his pretty dove back home.
He sat on the side of your bed, untying his boots and slipping them off. As he undressed down to his undershirt and pants, he chuckled softly to himself at how he was really here in this moment. Months of waiting, months of work, and the first time he'd in bed with you Simon was white knuckle-ing past your attempts at sex. He had sat back down you came back in the room, bare faced and absolutely beautiful. You smiled warmly at him before turning to your dresser, fishing some pajamas out of the bottom drawer.
"You want me to change out there?" you smirked, nodding to the hallway.
"Your house, love." Simon replied, feeling the way his eyes darkened as he eyed you. You shrugged and placed the pajamas on the top of the dresser. It felt like the world was moving in slow motion as he watched you peel the tight mini skirt off your hips, exposing the lacy blue thong that barely covered your ass crack. Your arms crossed as you lifted your top off, and Simon couldn't see the smirk on your face but he knew you were sporting one as you reached back to unclasp your bra.
"Y'could at least turn around." he heard himself say lowly, his words met with a giggle from you. You opted to pull your panties down unbelievably slow, bending at the waist so Simon had no choice but to watch the way the gusset peeled off of your pussy. By the time your hands were at your ankles, your rear was spread open just enough for him to admire both holes. They were practically screaming for Simon to reach out and touch, for him to sink his tongue into them.
When you straightened up, you continued his torture, turning around and giving him his first look at your naked frame. You let him drink in the sight of you, his eyes traveling over the swell of your breasts, your hips, thighs, everything he had never been able to see in your smart work clothes. Simon's cock leapt to attention when his eyes focused on the hard peaks of your nipples, each decorated by a silver bar pierced through them. There was a glittery piercing hanging from your bellybutton as well. When he met your eyes again you were still smirking, but this time you had an eyebrow cocked.
"What?" you asked innocently, making him try and swallow his saliva to lubricate his throat.
"You have your nipples pierced." he croaked out, making you giggle again.
"You know," you mused, stepping towards him and making his heart jump, "I'm not just some boring secretary who wears ugly skirts all the time." you crooned, settling between his spread legs and carding a hand through his hair. Simon's eyes fluttered shut at the touch, but he didn't dare let them close fully when your breasts were being presented inches from his face.
"I didn't think that." he said, voice coming out as nothing bit a whisper as he looked up at your smiling face.
"Better not have." you responded lightly, bending to kiss him briefly before standing back up and gently gripping his jaw in your hand, "And if you tell Johnny that I have my nipples pierced, you will never fuck me."
Now that made him laugh. You giggled along with him, turning and going back to the dresser and slipping the pajama set on and ending his show.
"He'd be drooling into a pool on the floor." he said as you made your way back to him.
"He would have fucked me." you teased, making him roll his eyes.
"True. But he's no gentleman." Simon retorted, not meaning for the words to come out as stony as they did. You hummed, pressing his chest back slightly as you climbed into his lap, making him lay back as you straddled his hips.
"That's probably true." you mused, and Simon relished in the feeling of your hands exploring his chest. He watched your eyes as you traced your fingertips lightly over the scars on his chest. After a few silent moments you gazed at his face and giggled again.
"What now?" Simon asked.
"Nothing," you said, leaning down so your face was above his, "There's just something sweet about big bad Simon Riley lounging on my pink sheets."
He rolled his eyes at that, but the sentiment did warm something in his chest. Now that he was here in your bed, no mask on, guard down for you, Simon realized that he had never been this way in his life, not romantically at least. The rest of 141 had seen his face on occasion, and he had a few little flings in the past, but nothing like this. No one like you.
So instead of saying anything, he reached up to cup your face with both his hands, pulling your face down to his so you were laying down on top of him while he kissed you. For a while he just held you there, and you seemed to have no intention of doing anything but be held. Eventually he moved you both onto your sides, wrapping his arms around you without breaking the kiss.
"You have no idea how long I've wanted this," he murmured into your lips, greedily drinking in the sigh you let out as your fingers tightened where they were perched on his biceps.
"Don't say things like that to me," you groaned as he pulled back and frowned at you.
"Why not?" he questioned, his serious tone lost on you as you looked up at him longingly.
"Because I really want you to fuck me." you whined, the sentiment going straight to his already aching cock.
"I will baby," he crooned, "Just not tonight. I have morals."
"So you'll never fuck me drunk?" you asked, and he smiled at your little pout.
"Not for our first time." he said, shifting his body so he was perched above your flat frame on the mattress, "Like I said, the first time I fuck you, you will have your head on straight."
He kissed your pouted lips, moving to get up and out of the bed. You whined again, asking him where he was going, and as he told you he was taking a shower he couldn't help but smile to himself.
Simon had gone over this almost a thousand times in his head, this moment where he finally crossed the line from your friend to your lover. He had thought through every scenario his mind could conjure up, thinking of ways he could get you to depend on him, to need him. As he'd already proven there wasn't much Simon wasn't willing to do to ensure he steered you in the right direction, whether you knew it or not. He'd been prepared to tap your phone, follow your every step, go through your mail, or hack your laptop. Hell, when there was discussion of John Carter staying on base he was prepared to kill the man.
Nothing was going to stop him from having you.
But he hadn't expected it to be so simple. There was no convincing you, no need for added external pressure, none of it. And yet here you were, mewling for him like a pathetic kitten desperate for his affection. He'd been in countless upturned regions, been tortured for information, been through things and made decisions that would keep most people up at night. But turning away from you, lounged out and gazing at him from those pink sheets, was the single hardest thing he'd ever had to do.
You mumbled a direction, sleepily telling him where the bathroom was, not that he needed it. Simon hopped in the shower to douse himself in cold water, trying anything to quell the ache of his throbbing cock. Once he had calmed down, he dried off and put his clothes back on.
Back in the room, you had tucked yourself into your side of the bed, and had left the blankets open on the other side in invitation. Simon shut the light on your bedside table off before he climbed in behind you, wrapping his arm around your midsection to pull you close to his chest. You hummed sleepily, adjusting yourself a bit so you were peeking over your shoulder at him in the darkness.
"I don't think I've ever done this," you said, laughing softly, "Sleeping with someone before, y'know, sleeping with them."
Simon smiled, pressing a light kiss to your forehead before giving you a squeeze and wishing you goodnight. You turned back over, settling into your spot and bringing his hand up to your chest. You laced your fingers with his and it didn't take long for him to recognize your breathing pattern to know you had fallen asleep.
Sleep wasn't typically easy for Simon, but as your breath danced on his knuckles and his nostrils filled with the sweet scent of the perfume in your hair, he felt it creep up on him sooner than expected.
── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──
When Simon awoke, he swore he was still dreaming. He wasn't the best sleeper, between nightmares and muscle aches he usually woke up a few times every night. But with you by his side apparently you were the perfect cure, as he had slept deeper than he could ever remember.
Cracking his eyes open was when he was convinced he was dreaming. The sun rays were shining through your cracked blinds and washing over the both of you, still tangled together amongst the soft sheets. You were still sleeping flush with him, but you were turned to face him now, cheek smushed against his bicep as the light danced across your face.
Simon had never laid his eyes on anything more beautiful.
So he laid there until you stirred. He drank in every second that passed, every shallow breath you took, focused so hard like he was memorizing the particles of dust in the air. With a deeper breath, you finally stretched as you woke up, not opening your eyes quite yet. You hummed to yourself when you reached out and your hands discovered his chest, finally opening your eyes to look at him. Before he could say anything, he watched a shy smile creep up on your features before you quickly looked away from him, making him lift an eyebrow at you. A small part of him was a bit concerned that you had sobered up and regretted the things you had said and done last night.
"Morning," he said, his voice still thick with sleep. You echoed him with a shy 'good morning' before sitting up and rubbing your eyes.
He quietly watched you, trying to study your body language before he asked what was on your mind. When you turned back around, he caught your eye and tilted his head a bit.
"What?" you asked, brows furrowing in worry.
"Why ya acting shy?" he asked, trying his best to sound playful, hoping he wasn't coming off accusatory. You laughed lightly, laying back down beside him before sighing and looking up at his eyes.
"Honestly?" you started, chewing on your lower lip before continuing, "I'm a little embarrassed."
"About what, love?" he said gently, clasping a gentle hand around your wrist and pressing his thumb on your pulse point.
"I kinda...threw myself at you, huh?" you laughed sheepishly, peeking at him as if to gauge his reaction. He offered you a soft laugh, pulling your body closer to press a kiss on the side of your head.
"You don't need to be embarrassed." he said softly, "Do you remember what I said to you last night?"
"Some of it." you said, brows furrowing in concentration.
"I told you that you have no idea how long I've wanted this," he said, moving his head so he was looking at you at you eye level, "And I meant it." he affirmed, satisfied when the crease in your brow softened a bit.
"So you don't think it was, like, completely pathetic?" you asked, and he smiled.
It was a little pathetic.
"No." he lied, pressing a gentle kiss on your lips as you giggled.
"Just don't tell anyone how desperate I was," you groaned, smiling up at him.
"Never." he nodded earnestly.
"Thank you." you sighed, "I would have to quit if Johnny and Kyle had that ammo on me."
Simon chuckled at that, aware that if he did share details of your behavior (and physique) with his team you would never hear the end of it. Price wouldn't tease you about those details he was sure, and Gaz would give up eventually, but Soap would be relentless. But if Simon had it his way, no man would ever know the beauty of your naked form ever again, even if it was just through his own word of mouth.
"They won't." he assured you, greedily taking yet another kiss from you. This time you held him there, and as you shifted your weight to tuck yourself as close to him as possible, something in Simon snapped. The feeling of you underneath him, kissing him so very needy, it was enough for him to move his own weight around so he was on top of you.
"I'm sober now. Scouts honor." you said softly, clearly not wanting him to pull away like he did last night. He laughed into your mouth and opted to bite your lower lip gently.
"Oh I know." he said, the desire rumbling in his chest obvious in the way his tone dropped. You whined at him as his mouth traveled from your lips down the column of you neck, smirking into you when he found a spot that made your hips buck up into him a bit. He bit you gently there, licking the skin to soothe the pain as your hands gripped his shoulders as if he was going to get up off of you and leave.
Simon moved his knee and brought your leg up with it, opening you up so he could settle his hips between your thighs. You opened up so beautifully for him, your obedience once again making his cock twitch. You were finally settled beneath him fully, hands cradling his face as your legs were wrapped around his hips to anchor him in place. Though he wanted so badly to rip your pajamas off you and devour you for breakfast, he stayed put, mesmerized when you moved his face back up to yours to kiss him.
The two of you stayed there for a while, lost in a deep kiss that had been brewing for months. It wasn't until you shifted your hips and rubbed against his crotch that he broke. His hands left your hair and moved your sleep shirt up and off of you, quickly followed by your shorts. Simon did not climb back over you like you thought he would, he was frozen in place by the sight of your glistening pussy, spread open and so fucking pretty. Lowering himself onto you, he heard your breath catch as you watched him descend on your sex, painting a long stripe with his tongue flat to catch as much of your flavor as possible.
The second your arousal hit his taste buds, he knew nothing would ever compare. No drink, no food, nothing would ever be this good. He ate you as if he was on death row being served his last meal, hungry and desperate for more. The sounds coming from you were music to his ears, spurring him on as he teased your clit with his flicking tongue, sucking it in and teething it every so slightly. The feeling of your soft, wet flesh in his mouth felt like forbidden fruit and he suddenly understood why Eve bit the apple.
Pulling back only to take another look at you, he watched your hole clench around nothing, so he obliged, inserting his middle finger and exploring your walls as he sucked your clit back into his mouth. You gasped, your hands somehow finding purchase in his buzzcut, hips bucking up into his mouth. He cursed under his breath at how tight you were, massaging every inch inside of you to gain the reward of more juices leaking from you for him to lap up. Another finger and you were moaning his name this time, and Simon could feel his cock wetting the front of his boxers at the sound of it.
He worked you open, pumping his thick fingers in and out of you, stretching you as much as he could before he even thought about notching his tip inside you. Simon's other hand came up to spread your lips open, allowing him better access to the red bundle of nerves that was making your thighs twitch when Simon so much as breathed on it. The way you were clamping down on him, your back arched and your hair messy, he knew you were close.
With his eyes trained forward on you, he watched your orgasm seize you, all your muscles going tense before you lost control of your body. Your tits were bouncing with how much you were squirming on him, and the way his name was coming from your mouth made him hum into you to cruelly overstimulate you through your peak. By the time he let you pull him off, you were panting, sweaty, and your eyes were glazed over as you watched him stand up.
He licked his lips, and sucked his fingers clean as he stood at the foot of the bed before you. He wished he could take a picture of you in this moment, and you were probably still in such a blissful high you might even let him. He finally took off his shirt and underwear, feeling a bit smug as he watched your eyes widen at the sight of his cock. Your lips parted ever so slightly as you watched it swing heavily between his legs as he climbed back on top of you.
"You're so big," you said hoarsely.
"I'll go easy on you." he assured you, planting a kiss on your lips as he lined himself at your entrance. All it took was the tip and your brows furrowed at the stretch. He planted his forehead on yours to watch your face as close as possible as he pushed in, you pretty features scrunching so cutely as he split you open. He fucked you with a few inches at first, adding more and more as he worked you open gently.
It wasn't easy, going slow. Simon wasn't used to slow. He was used to fucking, hard and fast and dirty. But this wasn't fucking, this was making love. And he intended to make love to you to prove that he was worthy of your affection, worthy of your time, worthy of your pussy.
You seemed to think he was worthy, clawing at him and begging for more as he slid in once again. "Fuck, please, Simon! I can take it I promise!"
Who was he to deny his woman?
So he sank into you fully, both of you relishing at the feeling. Your walls were pulsing a hypnotizing rhythm around his shaft, enticing him to plant his seed directly where he was sat at the door of your womb. Your face went blank for a moment, eyes closed in bliss as he let you adjust to his full length. When you opened your eyes and looked back up at him all Simon could hear were wedding bells. You were looking at him like he had hung the fucking moon, like he wasn't just a cold blooded killer, like he was a man.
So he fucked you like a man should. Deep and slow and passionate, one of his arms around the small of your back to hold your soft breasts flush with his chest and the other arm cradling your head so he could hear every hiccup and moan that left your sweet lips. Your hands were back around his neck, hips rocking with his as he sent his cock straight into your center. He'd listened to you so many times, but these sounds were new somehow, and it pleased him that he was making you feel like you'd never felt before. One long, drawn out whine in particular almost sent him over the edge.
"Y'like that baby?" he grunted in your ear, your head nodding immediately.
"God yes! Fuck, m'so full, Simon,"
"Takin' me so well, you were made for me."
Simon was sure of that. The way he was sliding in and out of your wet pussy so easily, you were practically sucking him back in. And fuck it felt good. Better than he could have ever fantasized about. You were wet and warm and fucking heavenly. Shifting slightly to angle deeper, your walls clenched down on him in desperation, another orgasm tantalizingly close. He didn't speed up, didn't switch positions, he just kept up the pace that had you whimpering like a bitch under him, begging him to keep going because you were so so close!
He only moved right as it crashed over you, shifting back so he could watch your face up close this time. You were such a vision, orgasmic pleasure suited your features so well. He'd give you 100 if you could handle it, just to see your lips fall open in that cute little 'o' right before you threw your head back and moaned his name. The pulse in your cunt had picked up, urging him to release his spend inside of you.
"G'na fill this pretty pussy up." he grunted, finally speeding up his rhythm to chase his own high. The want, the need to cum deep inside you was making him feral. You held on to him and talked him right to the edge, your pretty voice begging him to use you and fill you. He felt your eyes on him as he felt the rubber band inside him break, his balls flexing as they sent his cum through his shaft and out into your welcoming walls.
You whined out at the feeling, and he dropped to his elbows to cage you in as he fucked you through his release. Your fingernails were absolutely leaving marks as you clawed at his back, and the thought of being marked by you elicited a groan deep from the back of Simon's throat. Once his cum finally stopped flowing, he pressed himself down on top of you and lazily fucked into you as he gradually softened inside you.
He felt you sigh under him, followed by a soft laugh. "You were right." you said, voice slightly muffled by the muscle on his shoulder.
"About what?" Simon asked, lifting himself up to look down at you.
"It was worth the wait." you said softly, pulling his face down to yours and planting a soft kiss on his lips. The softness felt like it was eating Simon alive. He wasn't used to this, and his head was swimming with the knowledge that this wasn't the only taste he was ever going to get.
After a few nice moments of the two of you catching your breath, still tangled together, you groaned and tried to shove him off of you. You dangled the prospect of breakfast in front of him, laughing when he jumped on the opportunity and finally released you. Simon made a point to toss you his shirt, just because he wanted to see you cooking in it.
If you caught wind of his reasoning, you stayed quiet, slipping the garment over your head and smiling as you dug in your drawer for a pair of underwear. After slipping his boxers back on, he followed you down the stairs like a puppy.
You shooed him away once you were both in the kitchen, and knowing he'd be no help to you anyway Simon took a seat on one of the stools by the kitchen island. He let his mind wander, chuckling to himself over you pleading to not disclose your rendezvous with the other team members. They'd know he fucked you, that's for sure, but now that the topic was on his mind he wondered how much ribbing he was going to get. He could hear that stupid Scot's voice in his head, singing your name along side Simon's and an obnoxious
K-I-S-S-I-N-G.
"How do you like your eggs?" you asked, snapping him from his thoughts.
"Runny." he said, smiling at you like a fool. You nodded and made your way back to the stove, putting a new pan on the element to heat up some oil.
You finished making breakfast, offering him a tea in the middle of cooking his eggs. As Simon leaned on the counter and watched you, his eyes zeroed in on your nipples poking through the soft fabric of his shirt. Seeing you cooking after listening to it for so long had his chest buzzing at the domesticity of it all. You were humming a song he didn't recognize, and as you were putting food on two plates he was suddenly hit with an unexpected and vivid image of you tutting around his kitchen pregnant. His balls twitched in his boxers at the thought of you swollen with his child, breasts heavy and full.
Simon had never considered children, not with this work and his upbringing. But he had also never found anyone that triggered a thought like that in his mind. But clearly his feelings for you were stronger than even he understood, because the thought of filling you up so much that it takes was so clear in his mind. He could almost hear you shuffling around, whining about your back and begging him to help you put your shoes on. Completely reliant on him.
The sound of you setting the plates on the table snapped him from his albeit perverted daydream. You grinned at him knowingly, rubbing his shoulder.
"Whatcha thinkin' about?" you mused.
"Fucking you." he said plainly, relishing in the way your expression dropped into a shocked open mouth one before he walked to the table and sat down.
"You're insane." you said, shaking your head as you followed his lead and sat across from him. He smiled at you, popping a piece of sausage in his mouth. With the amount that he knew you preferred to cook vs order takeout it shouldn't have been a surprise that you were such a good chef. He complimented your skills anyway.
"It's just eggs and sausage." you said and he shrugged
"I'da burnt the fucker." he lamented, making you laugh loudly.
"I'll teach you, don't worry." you said, reaching out to pat his forearm.
After a while you spoke up again, softer this time, more serious.
"Thank you for staying."
"Course, sweetheart." he said, noting the way you smiled at the pet name.
"I mean it. You didn't have to," you said before smiling cheekily, "You didn't even know your reward was gonna be so good."
"No I didn't," he laughed, "But between that drunk cunt down the street and your neighbor I wasn't leaving. Especially with that piss poor lock y'got."
"Hey! Listen I rent," you giggled, "I can't just install a huge deadbolt because my - you don't like my chain lock." Simon didn't miss the way you stuttered over the possessive, but he decided to let it sit for a while. He let you eat for a while, lulling you into a false sense of security before he sprung something on you.
"You should be my girlfriend." he said, once again very plainly. You coughed into your orange juice, and looked at him wildly.
"Huh?!" you asked, making him smirk.
Simon repeated the sentiment, rewording it just a bit, "I want you to be my girlfriend."
You blinked at him, brows furrowed in confusion. He desperately wished he could read your mind to know what was going on in that pretty little head.
"I didn't know you did things like that." you said finally, eyes flickering from his face down to your plate.
"Did things like what? Date?" he asked.
"Girlfriends and stuff." you shrugged, pushing a piece of egg around with your fork, "I thought you just wanted...y'know."
"To fuck?" he offered, to which you nodded. He paused a moment, opting to just give you the flat out truth.
"I've never had an actual partner, to be fair. So you're not wrong." he mused, "But how I feel about you is different. It's more."
This seemed to settle you a bit, "Okay. I mean I really like you. Like a lot. So if you're sure that's what you want I'd really like to be your girlfriend, Simon. But I wanna make sure you really want that... don't want you do it just for me."
He smiled at your flustered expression, clearly a bit embarrassed at how you were rambling on. It was almost funny, how little you knew about his feelings for you. Those drastic measures still unnoticed.
Sure, Simon had absolutely no idea what he was getting the two of you into, but in his gut he knew it was right. He had a lot of learning to do, and a few HR conversations to have that were sure to make Price grumble.
But for now, he had you, a full stomach, and the morning light.
Taking your hand and bringing it up to his face, he brushed his lips across your knuckles.
Simon sees you as a blackberry. Sweet, tart, and a little complicated. There’s something about getting a blackberry seed nestled in the bed of your molars and grinding down until you taste the bitter oil alongside all that sweetness.
Price sees you as a pomegranate. His to crack open, spread out, stain his fingers. To pluck carefully. A pomegranate isn’t a fruit for the impatient— it’s for those who have time, patience, and aren’t afraid to get a little messy.
You’re Soap’s peach, of course. Ripe, summery, fuzz in all the right places, and sure to have juice dripping down his fingers and chin. Not to mention that seam— the perfect place to drag the tip of his tongue.
Gaz thinks of you as an apple. There are so many types of apples, all with different looks and different tastes, but when you find the one you like? It always makes you so happy to see it. Sweet, dependable, and makes such a perfect pairing with so many things. But they’re not delicate— an apple can come on adventures, too. He’d keep you like a honey crisp in his jacket pocket if he could.
You’re Nikolai’s pear. Regarded as troublesome by some and rarely praised— too soft, too easy to bruise and mar, not fit for travel. But Nikolai loves the flavor, the texture, the way that plump bottom sits in the curve of his palm… He happens to think it’s worth a bit of trouble— that a fruit which shows fingerprints is the only kind worth eating.
Bonus:
König sees you as his strawberry. He could just about have you on anything— the same way there’s strawberry cake, yogurt, ice cream, candy, syrup, cereal, trail mix. You could be in every little morsel of his life and he’d be delighted every time.
read this blurb from @softaestluv however many days or weeks ago and i finally drew it bc i couldnt stop thinking about it ( if you couldnt already tell from literally seeing me reblog the post like 2 posts before this one LOL)..... I lowkey feel like i shouldve made him look a little more ugly looking but OH WELL.
venom!sevika × fem!reader, smut, nipple play, cunnilingus (r!receiving), tentacles/tendrils, slight bondage, tendrilcock/strap (she feels it), vaginal penetration (r!receiving), slight overstimulation, mention of aftercare, venom being an annoying little shit, wc: 2.7k
venom!sevika who is really fucking scared of hurting you with this weird thing she has to deal with now. Her new brainmate is not typically known for being gentle or careful. Constantly throwing things around and just being messy doesn't earn the symbiote any trust from her either.
venom!sevika who eventually caves and tells you, it's not like she could hide her new secret from you for long anyway. And she'd rather have you find out in a somewhat calm situation (given that she has been constantly grumpy due to venom just not shutting the fuck up inside her brain, especially not when you are around), than you finding out by some shitty news report talking about sightings of her. And the suspicions and rumors no doubt soon to be stirred up by the trail of headless bodies she leaves whenever her little friend gets hungry would reach your ears sooner or later anyway. Best to tell you herself.
venom!sevika who is definitely surprised when you don't react with disgust or fear, but with clear interest and very poorly concealed arousal. It's simple to you; your ultra sexy girlfriend now has the ability to turn into an even bigger and more muscular version of herself, plus she has slimy tendrils and can essentially grow extra limbs at will — that's the hottest surprise she could have presented to you. Admittedly, venom has its own will and a matching attitude, but at least it seems to be intrigued by its host's girlfriend's fantasies. Enough to be willing to help the both of you out — enthusiastically, that's for sure.
✧˖*°࿐
You caught her mumbling to herself angrily, or at least, that's what it looked like to you. In reality, she'd been arguing with her symbiote about what was okay for it to do, and what activities would be off-limits, strictly. She quickly found out that threatening someone, or something, that she shares her body with might not work if said entity can just choose to gleefully munch on her organs at will.
venom!sevika who, with enough sweet words and even sweeter kisses, agrees to try some of the things you suggested. as long as the two (or rather three) of you start slow, no diving in without knowing whats next. It starts with her just letting you feel her in her new form. it would be way more peaceful if venom would keep its comments to itself, but feeling your hands run over her new physique still feels like she's about to light on fire any moment. the excited glimmer in your eyes and the way you all but press yourself against her dont make it any easier to focus on taking it slow.
venom!sevika who can feel her restraint slipping when you start slowly sliding one of your fingertips over venom's sharp teeth. She can feel it, in a weird, unfamiliar way. You're fascinated with her new form, that much is obvious from the way you're already squirming in her lap. Her hand finds your waist — she's so much bigger like this, her hand dwarfs your midsection easily, more so than it usually does anyway — and slips under the fabric of your shirt to steady you.
"Easy, baby," she leans down to your ear, and you can feel sparks of electricity shoot up your spine at the proximity. "Getting exited already?" She doesn't need an answer, can easily feel how soaked you are though your panties where they stick to her muscled thigh.
venom!sevika who licks along your jaw with her new tongue. The movement is a little clumsy, the long muscle feels a little out of her control in her new form's mouth. Still, you whine, hand gripping at the slightly slimy muscle of her biceps. Your girlfriend just chuckles, big hand sliding up your spine under your shirt.
"Wanna get these off, baby? You've been so good, so patient. Think you deserve your reward, no?" You nod enthusiastically, arms already lifting over your head before sevika even finishes her sentence.
venom!sevika who just stares once she gets your clothes off. Stares at how you look with her hands all over your skin. Cups your tits in her big palms, squeezes and pinches until you whine for her to actually do something. She doesn't mean to tease you like this, really. She just can't help herself when you look so delicious covered in the black slimy substance that venom is.
It doesn't take long until venom itself speaks up again. The comments never really stopped, not for sevika, at least. The symbiote had been whispering in her brain the whole time. About how gorgeous you'd be wriggling on its tendrils, grinding on its tongue. Sevika would be lying if she said the pictures her mind had painted to those words didn't mess with her patience.
Now, venom addresses you directly. And oh, how you blush at the downright filthy words the raspy voice whispers. It's not sevikas voice, that much is clear. It's deeper, a little more feral and venoms sharp-toothed maw curls into a sly smirk when it sees the effect its words have on you.
venom!sevika who traces every inch of your skin with her tonge as she makes her way down to your core. It's wet and messy, but she's getting the hang of how to control the long wriggling muscle now. Your hands are already searching for something to hold onto when she gets to your bellybutton and places a slimy kiss there.
Her grin is so smug you almost blush just from the way the rows of long sharp teeth glint at you in the dim light of your shared bedroom.
venom!sevika whose new symbiotic form is so huge your legs have to spread wide to make room for her when she ducks down between your thighs. She throws one of your legs over her shoulder, and a slick, black tendrils immediately wraps around your thigh to keep it in place.
She grazes her razor-sharp teeth over the inside of your thigh so softly it feels like a breath of air and watches you shiver, your thigh twitching against the tendril's hold on your soft flesh. Your eyes close, head lolling back on the pillow with a whine, because Gods, you're getting frustrated here. You're soaked, can feel the damp fabric of your panties clinging to your cunt like a second skin, and you know your girlfriend can see it too.
You're just about to protest — lips already parted and a complaint sitting on the tip of your tongue — when you can feel her tongue press against the gusset of your panties. Her hands hold your hips in place as they buck against her open maw — you're not even sure if you're trying to get closer or flee from her touch. The sensation is new and unfamiliar, her tongue is so much bigger like this, longer too. It feels like it's the first time she's eating you out all over again.
venom!sevika who can feel not only her but also venom's hunger thrumming within her. They mingle together, intertwine until she can barely tell them apart. It's making her head dizzy with desire; to cherish this moment, let it melt on the tip of her tongue until you do, too. And then there's the hunger; all-consuming as it makes her skull buzz with the need to devour you whole, ravish you until there's nothing left for her to take.
She slips your panties off your hips, meaty hands shaking with restraint. The sight of your bare cunt still makes her feel like she's about to faint, anticipation running like lava in her veins. But when she looks up from between your thighs, she can see the trust you put in her shining through the need in your glossy eyes.
Gods, you're so beautiful like this. Vulnerable and open for her, and so eager to get a good feel of what this new form of hers can do.
venom!sevika who starts slow, pressing the flat of her tongue to your hole and lets it rest there for a moment to feel the faint pulse that betrays your need for her. She can practically smell it on you, how bad you want this; want her.
You've already begun to moan softly when her teeth graze over the twitching pearl of your clit. There's so much noise in her head; your sweet sounds and the way she swears she can hear your pussy calling for her, begging for her tongue, her fingers — anything. But then there's venom again. Just won't shut up and let her have this moment with her girlfriend.
She shoves its insistent voice aside as best as she can and instead answers your cunt. It's just the tip of her tongue at first, flicking against your weeping hole before it pushes in. Your reaction is immediate — a squeaky moan and a shiver that runs up your spine like electricity, making your back arch off the mattress as if you're trying to flee from it.
Your girlfriend takes this as a confirmation to go deeper, wet muscle wriggling an pushing into you until she can nudge the tip against that sweet spot hidden in your gummy walls. And Oh, your reaction is priceless — whimpery moans keep spilling from your lips, hips bucking against her maw to chase the high she's giving you.
And then you start begging for more, sevika, please, need more and something inside her snaps.
venom!sevika who pushes her tongue in as far as your glossy cunt allows and then some more. The tip of it is pressed snugly to your cervix, wriggling there just to hear your scream for her, your hands scrambling to grab her hands, her arms, anything you can reach in your pleasure-drunken haze. She can feel every little squeeze your pussy gives around her wet muscle, taste your juices right from their source — and she loves every second of it.
Her hands grip your hips so tight they might bruise, but she couldn't be moved to care as she pulls you closer to her face, desperate to devour you. Your hips twitch in her hold, clit aching to be given just the tiniest bit of attention, but it seems like your girlfriend has other plans. The noises coming from between your thighs are downright pornographic; wet squelching and nasty slurping that only seems to grow louder the longer sevika spends buried in your cunt.
venom!sevika who only pulls away from your swollen pussy when your hands start pushing at her head, whines bubbling from your lips. It's too much and not enough at the same time, clit twitching for attention above your sobbing hole. Her tongue leaves your pussy with a slick pop that makes heat rise to your cheeks.
"Impatient again?" A tendril shoots from her shoulder and wraps around both of your wrists, pinning them to your abdomen. They're surprisingly strong as you try to pull your wrists
free, and the amused chuckle coming from between your legs has your pussy clenching around nothing.
✧˖*°࿐
venom!sevika who is on top of you now, towering over you where you're sprawled out on the mattress. Her tendrils are wrapped around each of your legs, keeping them wide open for her and giving her the prettiest view of your glossy cunt. There's a thick, tendril-like thing growing from her crotch. It looks almost like her favore strap, just that it's so much bigger — like everything about her is, in this form.
She still has that sharp-toothed grin on her face and it only seems to grow more smug when she sees the look of needy anticipation on your face. One of her hands plants itself next to your head on the mattress, steadying her muscular frame as she leans down, her long tongue darting our to lick along your jaw while she lines her makeshift cock up with your entrance.
venom!sevika who can feel everything when she pushes inside. It has her cursing under her breath, jaw clenching as your pussy wraps around her like a vice. She can't decide where she wants to look — You've got this beautiful look on your face, features twisting with pleasure. Your cunt looks just as gorgeous — slick hole stretching wide to make room for her, almost like you're trying to pull her in deeper.
"Easy, easy. Open up for me, baby." One of her tendrils presses against your clit, wriggling there to rub the swollen bud. It earns her a high-pitched squeak from you that quickly turns into a string of needy moans as your hips try to buck up into hers.
venom!sevika who starts with slow, shallow thrusts — doesn't want to overwhelm you too soon. She can feel her tip kissing your cervix each time she bottoms out. You're singing now, the string of moans and whiny pleas never ending as the sweetest sounds spill from your spit-slicked lips.
She wants to take it slow, she really does, but the way you clench each time her cock hits that sweet spot tucked deep inside your gummy walls has her head spinning and control slipping away. Her hips grind into yours, sharp gaze locked on your face to not miss any moment of your pleasure written on your features.
Two of her tendrils crawl up your sides until they reach your tits, playing with your nipples and flicking against them so see your back arch into her touch. Her thrusts are faster now, hips slapping against the back of your thighs with wet plap, plap, plap 's.
venom!sevika who thinks she might die like this, wrapped so snuggly in your warm cunt. She can tell you're getting close, each of her thrusts has your pussy clenching tighter around her cock, and your moans have turned into needy whimpers. "You wanna cum, baby?" Her tendril on your clit presses down harder, drawing quick circles on the sensitive pearl while another tendril wriggles its way into your stuffed hole.
It's a tight fit, and it has your eyes rolling to the back of your head, head bobbing in uncoordinated nods. She grunts, angling her hips to bully her cock into your sweet spot with every snap of her hips.
It barely takes ten seconds until your hips are bucking up wildly, a drawn-out moan ripping from your lips as white-hot pleasure shoots up your spine like bolts of lightning, painting stars over the canvas of your blurry vision.
venom!sevika who keeps fucking you through your orgasm, barely slowing down to let you regain your breath. You feel heavenly on her cock, extra sensitive and so tight now that your pussy is pulsing around her with every beat of your racing heart. Her own orgasm hits her like a truck, her hips pressing into you as deep as your fucked-out pussy allows. She's breathing heavily on top of you as her tendrils withdraw from your body slowly, disappearing into her again.
venom!sevika who only collapses onto you once she's fully back to her usual form, all traces of venom gone save for the whispered comments in her brain. She buries her face in your neck, kissing up the side of it until she can whisper into your ear, her hand massaging the nape of your neck gently. "I wasn't too rough, was I?" She sounds worried, now that the pleasure and the thrill of the moment have subsided. You just shake your head with a hum to let your girlfriend know you're fine, brain too mushy to bring yourself to answer properly.
The two of you stay like this for a moment until sevika pushes herself up on one elbow, looking down at you with soft eyes. You blink one of your eyes open, looking up at her as she begins to pepper kisses down your chest and over your stomach, the soft press of her lips only interrupted by mumbled words of praise.
venom!sevika who falls asleep with her face pressed into your abdomen, arms wrapped tight around your waist to keep you close.
Nikolai x female!reader, omegaverse, omega reader, alpha Nikolai, heat, nesting, lots and lots of sex, oral, fingering, breeding kink, LONG FIC 3.5k words
Thank you my beloveds in the discord for encouraging this monster @gazstations @vinnierobot748 @lialucis
You escaped notice, mostly. It was your job- you were a floater, assigned whatever task was necessary but not worth the time of the actual, important people. You coordinate schedules, take stacks of files to be digitized and others to be shredded, run between meetings with updates and sign off for deliveries of things you don't want to know about. A secretary without the sex appeal, you joke to yourself, and put your head down and request your heat time off in advance.
When it comes, you swallow the lump in your throat and wave bye to the handful of people you talk to, and go back to your room with a heavy step. Alone, locked doors and a nest made of your regular blankets and pillows, a couple toys to help the ache. Your head fucking kills, and you curse at yourself for not prepping enough- but there were three different fires to put out this week, one literal, and so you couldn't eat and couldn't rest and haven't been able to even think ahead for anything.
There's someone leaning on your door, and your steps slow. You know him by reputation only, the sort of man who appears and disappears as needed, and not on anything official. He looks like he's made himself comfy, and you scowl at him when pain spikes behind your eye, wanting to just get past and lie down and sleep the heat away.
He doesn't move though, staying right there to block your way, and his scent is heavy in the air- something dark and cool- and his frown lines deepen when he moves his sunglasses up on his head. You don't say anything, waiting for him to break the silence.
"Sweet omegas need to be taken care of, not care for everyone else," he says finally. "I see you running around like a chicken. Come, you can spend that heat with me." He pushes off your door and reaches for you, frowning again when you yank your arm back.
"A chicken-!" You sputter, before realizing that's not the main point. "How do you know I'm in heat? Or who I am?" That's not quite it either, dammit. "Who are you?"
He grins, unashamed, and this time his hand makes contact with your arm, tucks into your elbow and draws you in closer. You can't help but feel the warmth of his skin, the almost refreshing scent in your nose. You know you're all over the place right now, stressed and tired and aching, a pain in your head and a warmth in your belly. You just want a break.
"I am Nikolai, call me Nik," he says, and lifts your hand to kiss it. "And I know you keep this shit hole running smooth and no one sees it. No one notices you, do they? I do." Tears spring into your eyes, and you gulp them back. He kisses your wrist this time, the thin skin inside, where your pulse beats. "Come with me, sweet, let me help you. I can take care of you."
Your head hurts and behind you is paperwork and stress. Your door leads you to a flat mattress and small comforts you got for yourself.
Nik smells strong and soothing, you think about old growth forests and rain clouds. It's probably a stupid decision, but he's gone right to your heart with a couple sentences. Why the fuck not?
You step into his space, and lay your head on his shoulder, scenting him properly. Your neck arches, and his lips touch your skin as he does the same, breathing you in.
"Poor sweet thing," he purrs, "you're in good hands, now," and tugs your arm to follow him away from your room.
-
Nik drives with one hand on the wheel, the other on your thigh- patting up and down over your clothes, not groping like you half expected- just soothing over your flesh until it's so normal you forget about it. There's a paper bag between your feet with little snacks in it- fruit and honey bars, some spicy jerky, a cup of something juicy and rich. You dive through them eagerly, hungry, and catch Nik grinning when you moan a little in delight.
It's probably a bit much, but you can't help feeling better, some old instinct being soothed down as you ride away from the base. Your head still hurts, but the empty stomach at least has eased off by the time he pulls up to an honest-to-god log cabin, half buried in trees that look impossibly big to your view out the window.
You step out of the vehicle, looking around, and jump when Nik catches you up in his arms.
"What," you start, and then all your tension floods out as he tucks his chin over your shoulder and purrs.
It's deep and rumbling and soft, vibrating into your chest, and you sag in his hold, gasping. You've never had this, never had a purr just for you, and Nik cups the back of your head with his big hand. "Easy, sweet," he says, and kisses your throat. There's a burst of heat like fire in your belly. "Come inside, all is ready. I have you, I will take care of you, come," and he scoops you up off your feet.
The inside of the cabin is cool and dark, curtains half drawn, the corner of the single room dominated by a huge bed. It's carved top to bottom, thick curtains hanging down over it, the open side showing you what you register immediately as a nest- thick quilts, pillows, actual fucking furs- is this guy for real?
You whine a little as Nik sets you on your feet and begins unbuttoning your shirt. Your head is swimming, and you stumble out of your shoes- bed, bed, that nice heavy soft bed- and crawl into it mostly naked. If you were at home, your little room, you'd be in old soft shorts, thick socks, but nothing sounds better than feeling that rich softness on your bare skin right now.
Fucking heat.
Nik laughs a little behind you, easy, and tugs your pants off the rest of the way. "Rest, omega," he says, and tucks your hair behind your ear as you wrap a thick blanket over your shoulders. He draws another up, and all but buries you into the bed.
Your smile is soft and shaky up at him, feeling caught off guard and vulnerable, worried about being too much and also still not enough. His hand on your forehead strokes down, makes your eyes close. He doesn't do anything else, just picks up your clothes from the floor and steps away, and you slide into a sleep deeper and more restful than you've had in- ever.
-
You wake up to heat, to liquid warmth in your belly and between your legs. There's someone strong and hairy against you, muscles flexing as he moves, and you come with a wavering moan as you remember Nik.
His fingers slip from inside you, and there's a wet sucking sound. He's licking them. You can't see, it's fully dark and the curtains boxing in the bed are thick. The blankets on you are suffocating, suddenly, and you push them away.
"Nik?" Your voice is soft, muffled under the layers of dark and fabric. You can smell yourself, hot, nearly steaming with it, all the rich layers of omega scent overwhelming, and moan in relief when you find Nik in the dark and breathe into his neck, the cool breeze of him calming your fever. The purr in his chest keeps rumbling for you, a pleased alpha.
"Here, sweet, right here- so good for me, you taste so good. So wet." His fingers trail down the side of your cheek, sticky, until they find your mouth; you open and suck for him, tasting yourself. He groans against you. "Eat a little more for me?"
You don't know how he does it, you can't see an inch, but his other hand meets your lips, holding some little morsel. You leave his wet hand for this one, and bite into meat- something warm and dense, spice on your tongue, and moan aloud as Nik feeds you another even as his fingers slip between your legs again.
You feel swollen and achy, pulse pounding in your clit, and he circles it gently. You're so slick for him, he can just slide right into you, and he tells you this as you swallow the food. Your whole body aches, limbs trembling, as the alpha provides you with- good, rich food; a warm nest; a body to writhe against and take pleasure from. You want to cry, because it's so good and so perfect, his scent and purr going to your head like liquor.
Nik kisses down your face, scenting against your throat, and shifts so you can feel his cock against your leg. He's so hard, thick and wet at the tip, and you find your hands exploring down his body to it. He's stocky, chest hair soft under your palms, trailing down his belly to his groin, his thighs. His cock jumps when you stroke it, and you yelp as his teeth suddenly bite into your shoulder.
"Sorry," he pants, and you realize with a bolt of lust that he wanted to bite your throat, had to stop himself, that he wanted you.
"Please," you gasp, "yes, do it, bite me-!" Nik groans, almost snarling, and licks up your neck, under your jaw.
You come again, clamping down on his fingers, and and shove at Nik to make him move over, letting you roll onto your belly.
"Alpha," you plead, and lift your hips, "Nik, please, please," and your thighs spread open, your hand spreading open your folds so he can just slide in, take you, please just fucking- get inside, need it, the heat and the coiling pressure in your belly, the forest in his scent and the warmth of his body, the strong arms wrapping around you and keeping you in place as he finally, finally, spears you onto his cock.
You moan and shake when he bottoms out, full and stretched open. Nik groans, a hand fumbling up your side until he can get his hand into your hair and wrench your head to the side, burying his face into your throat, puffing hot breath over your skin. He sucks hard as he thrusts, wet smacks between your bodies, and you clamp down on his cock. He's sucking and licking at your throat, scent blooming up off you, and he drags in a deep breath and moans. He's so good, heavy and strong, and you feel the ache settle into something deeper between your legs. This is what you needed, a cock in your pussy to fill you up, thick thighs bouncing off yours, alpha scent in your nose as you moan and squirm for him, his big hands squeezing at your thighs, arms, breasts.
Nik gently pinches your nipples, tugging a little, making you gasp. In heat, you think of them leaking milk, heavy and full for the swollen belly he's going to give you, and plead for more until he's grunting into your ear and getting both hands on your tits, groping harder as your pussy squeezes his cock.
You lose your words, just sinking into the heat and sensations- soft furs under your knees, alpha inside you, hands and skin and sweat all rippling together. You clasp one of his hands with yours, twining your fingers, and he leaves your throbbing nipples alone long enough to grip your jaw and turn your face to his, kissing you messily.
He speeds up, hips smacking into your ass, and your arms give out as you feel his cock swelling. You moan wildly, letting Nik grab your ass and thighs, thumbs digging into your flesh as he pants. Your pussy clings to his cock as his knot swells, tugging at it every time it pops in and out, making your back arch, toes curling. You're so close, and Nik bends over you, forcing your ass up higher, your face pressed into the furs.
Nik shoves a hand under your belly and rubs furiously over your clit, and you feel his knot swell and lock into you as you come, gushing over him, limbs all quivering as your belly tightens and releases, flexing, the throb of your pussy milking him as he groans and falls over you.
His teeth sink into the side of your throat, sharp, finally, and you come with another slick gush, his knot so deep and full you can't get anything out around it- plugged up so well not even your own come can leak out- he moans and his cock twitches inside you, coming in spurts, filling you up full.
The heat takes over you fully now- you're an omega under your alpha, taken, knotted and held in place to be pumped full. Your pussy squeezes with each twitch of his cock, milking his knot, and your alpha groans and rumbles and purrs, steady and strong, letting you take everything you need from him.
-
The heat-haze stays over your mind longer than usual. You doze on Nik until his knot releases, and orgasm as his tongue licks his own come out of your pussy, crying for the pleasure and the need to keep it inside, too empty!
Nik's a good alpha though, he plugs you back up after he's done, fitting his cock back into you as your clit is stroked gently, soft as silk after he sucked it so much. You splay on top of him this time, legs open over his thighs, and he takes your weight easily, stroking over your pussy where it's stretched open around his knot. His fingers play with your folds the same way his tongue flicks along your ear, until you're coming again for him, his knot throbbing as he fills you more.
The next time is face to face- you lift your legs up, knees as high as they can go, to let Nik get your body in place, pressed down, pinned. He can't reach your clit like this, but you don't mind. Instead he sucks your nipples, squeezes your breasts and leaves over them with his tongue as you pant and whine.
"настолько мягкие, что наполните их молоком*," he moans, and you don't understand but he lifts both your breasts up together, pressing the flesh in tightly, and bites your nipples. You keen at that, attempting to thrash even as his weight holds you down, the sticky mess between your thighs getting hotter and wetter again. He keeps alternating them, biting and sucking until your nipples feel swollen and hot, until the flick of his tongue makes you moan and clench around his knot.
Your heat has a strangle hold on you- all you want is a knot, and between fucking Nik has to coax you to eat, feeding you more bites of meat with his fingers, petting your tongue when you swallow for him, sips of cool water poured down your throat. It's never been like this before- you could think, prepare, fuck yourself on some knotted dildos and snack on whatever you set next to your bed- Nik drizzles honey on your lips and licks it off, bounces you in his lap and drapes both your bodies in the furs and blankets.
Light spills through the gaps in the curtains, pale and thin, then brighter, golden. You stretch and roll into Nik as he purrs, kissing you as you open your legs for him again. He slides into you easily, so wet and worked open that it's nothing at all to stretch for him, and the day slips past in flashes of light on his skin, highlighting the curve of his shoulders, the sweat on his forehead, the way shadows dance across your belly as you come again, crying out, so sensitive you're sore- or so sore it's sensitive, pussy and clit all a warm, swollen mess, nipples aching.
You roll over, presenting with your hips up and chest flat to the bed, sweat dripping down your spine. Nik purrs at you, pleased with his omega, and you moan and arch further. His hands span your ass, lifting and bouncing your cheeks, and when his thumb rubs over your asshole you whine, clenching as he slips it inside, gently fucking you just a little while his knot settles into your cunt. Each push inside makes you clench, milks his cock, and you whimper into the pillows as he adds a finger, another- so tight where your cunt is so stretched out, your own slick and his come smeared into a thick lube that he shoves into you.
You think about his cock in that hole instead, knot bulging in your guts, as you beg for it to be fucked into the right hole, and come as he fingers your ass, Russian words dripping from his lips.
The orgasms pulse through you. Nik is as sweaty and wrecked as you are, moaning with you each time his knot fills and releases, using his fingers and tongue to drive you insane every time. You gasp for breath, shaking, sucking food and water from Nik's hands with big, soft eyes. The alpha tucks your hair back, kisses your lips, cradles you down in the nest as you cool off a little. Thoughts begin to slip back in, and you notice the bags of food and bottles of water tucked into a shelf built into the bedframe out of the way. The next time Nik brings you a bite, you reach for another and press it to his lips instead.
He holds your eyes as he takes it, teeth scraping your fingertips, and you swallow hard. He lets you give him some water too, and you pass the bottle back and forth. Cool droplets fall from your wrist when it spills a little, shaky hands, and Nik licks it up.
His tongue follows your wrist down, and your pussy pulses as he licks the crease of your elbow, jumps over to your breast to lick your nipple again. "Nik," you moan, surprising yourself, the only word you've had has been alpha for- hours? Days?
He hums around your nipple, the lines around his eyes creasing in a smile as he flicks it with his tongue, making you whine.
"Nik- again, please," you beg, and he groans and buries his face into your breasts.
"Killing me, sweet," he says, and lifts your hips up to meet his. His cock is still heavy and hard, leaking steadily, and you reach down to caress the half-blown knot as he pushes into you. "So good, letting me have you- taking me so well- let me hear you again, omega," and he shifts his weight and just fucks you, hard and sharp, making you moan on each thrust. You're too sensitive for such a harsh fucking, but it's too good to stop, all the heat building up into another orgasm too quickly, almost painful. Your pussy hurts, soaked and swollen, and you feel tears slip down to your temples as your body takes it again.
Nik groans, mouthing at your breast, until you lift his face up to yours. You kiss him, sucking on his tongue as his hips gentle, slowing, and fumble blindly for another bottle of water. He pants as you tip it to his mouth, spilling it between your bodies, and he follows the trail down your throat, where the side of your neck is marked up purple and pink, swollen, stinging as the cool water drips over your skin.
You finish the bottle yourself and find instead of orgasm, your body is settling down at last- you stay soft and open, Nik's knot bumping against your hole as he works it inside, teasing your pussy with it until it swells up, locks in. You whine and let him bite you again, clenching down, feeling the ache catch and release, release, limbs all going liquid and falling down as Nik spurts a little come into you- just enough to feel the twitch of his cock before he settles his weight down, your hips splayed open, warm and wet for him to rest inside.
The light has shifted again, going dim, and you doze off and on. Nik has shuffled you to your side, still locked together, and is nuzzling your cheeks and nose with his. You play with his hair, coiling the dark strands around your fingers as he falls asleep himself, the low snore vibrating through him like a purr. Everything feels liminal, outside of time- just the nest, soaked in sweat and come, a hidden space away from everything else. The cabin itself creaks in the wind, the forest noises quiet for the night.
You fix your teeth into Nik's throat and bite, laving your tongue over his skin, sucking as he rouses up, moaning, his hand coming around the back of your head to hold you in place as you mark him, taking him, his knot finally easing out, deflating fully, still joined to your cunt with the thick web of come and slick smeared between you.
-
The morning sun slices through the curtains right across your eyes where you're sprawled over Nik, a quilt hanging off you, rising and falling with his chest as he snores.
You have to pee so fucking bad.
You stagger off the bed, legs wobbling, and manage to make it to the narrow door of what you pray is a bathroom. You're successful, and not even the absolute life ruining heat you just had compares to the simple relief of peeing for the first time in- what, two days? Three?
Back to the bed is another feat of strength, and you drop into the pile of pillows and furs gratefully. There's a pounding ache between your legs, your back hurts, you're monstrously thirsty again. Nik is no better off, his hair matted with sweat and his cock soft and bruised looking, a muscle jumping in his thigh even asleep.
You press your lips to his chest, feeling his heartbeat. He still smells good, still that old-forest-dark-clouds, under the new layer of sweat and sex. More kisses up his pecs, across his collarbone, until you can gently lick at the purplish bite mark decorating the smooth skin under his ear, right where you can scent him the strongest.
He rumbles a little, waking up, and you smile up at him as he turns his head to you, taking a soft kiss from your mouth. "Morning, sweet," he says, and kisses you again.
You half expect him to start shooing you out the door as soon as it was clear the heat had finally released you, but instead he keeps going- he feeds you breakfast, bites of the same fruit and honey, thick bread spread with butter. You hum in delight- it's delicious- and he blushes, telling you almost shyly about learning family recipes, ones from his grandparents days, made for nesting omegas. The bread is thick and strong, packed with herbs, and your praise makes him blush even more, which is too cute for a man of his size and strength.
You nap, Nik snoring into your ear, and when he wakes you the sunlight spilling through the windows is fading. The little bathroom- it looks tacked on, and you wouldn't be surprised if this place was built when outhouses and chamberpots were standard- sputters warm water, and Nik even joins you in the shower.
His body feels amazing under your hands, his scent mixing in the air with the plain soap. You use your hands to scrub him down, stroking over his arms and legs, and he moans and swears when you kneel down for him, kissing along his cock as you soap up the tender skin around his balls, behind them.
His knot stays down, but you suck him anyway, eager to give him a little more pleasure when he did so much for you. His cock is sensitive, and you treat it gently, conscious of the way your pussy clenches each time he moans, the taste of his precome on your tongue. He rubs his fingers along your cheeks when they hollow out, pressing in, and you blink the water out of your eyes and look up at him, watching his face as he groans and comes for you. There's not much of it- you're surprised he has anything left in him- and you smooth your tongue along along the underside as his hips pump forward into your mouth, letting him go only when he whines, overstimulated.
Your own fingers slip across your clit, barely touching, but still enough to make your eyes roll back as over-sensitive nerves spark and catch, the little quivering orgasm pulsing through you. Warm water slides off your back, over your legs, as you sigh and lean against Nik's legs, feeling him petting the wet strands of your hair. He even coaxes another flutter from you, rubbing soapy fingers across the folds of your pussy, one teasing your asshole again- without heat clouding your mind, it feels dirtier somehow, and he grins when you squirm and hide your face, trying not to think about how your hips work back onto his hand.
Your clothes are stacked neatly on a chair, and feel strange on your body after the luscious nakedness in the bed, Nik's hands as he cleaned you up in the shower after. Nik doesn't seem in any hurry to move things along, you get the feeling he'd be happy staying here another day or three, but you have a job waiting for you.
You gently push forward the idea of leaving, going back to the base and home- though thinking of your room as home feels strange now too- and Nik just kisses you again. He loves doing it, you've learned, taking any chance to kiss your hand, your lips or cheek, nuzzle up under your jaw and along your throat.
"I know, sweet, time to go back," he grumbles, and you help him strip the bed- a huge bag is filled with the sheets and quilts, the furs stacked up in a pile he carries to the truck still waiting outside. You ask him about paying for the laundry and he just laughs.
"Laundry? Sweet, I will be sleeping in the scent of you just as they are," he insists, which is thrilling and a little gross. You help him load back up through, packing in all the left over water, snacks, the small loaves of bread wrapped in paper and carefully placed where they won't be crushed.
You pick the music on the way back, your head no longer spinning and able to appreciate the drive, the forest as it speeds past, and realize you're laughing in joy- when you glance over Nik is grinning back at you.
The base seems quieter, less overwhelming, when Nik drops you off at your door. You hesitate with the key in the lock. It feels wrong to walk away from him- you've spent the last few days in this fog of desire and need, that he so perfectly carried you through- but what can you say? What can you do? How do you move forward with someone when you don't know their last name, barely met them, but they made such a mark on your life? Maybe you should just tell him thanks? Ask for a date? Does he even want to date you?
A soft, deep brown fur lands around your shoulders like a shawl, stopping the spiraling thoughts. You breathe in and smell Nik, cool and dark, mixed in with yourself- something like sunlight breaking through the leaves. Peace and comfort.
You breathe in deeply, and Nik's hand cups your cheek. "I'll see you soon, милый**," and kisses your lips before he winks at you and just- leaves, whistling, a spring in his step that wasn't there before- you're pretty sure. The bag with the loaves of bread, the small snacks that he fed you through the heat, is at your feet.
Your smile could light up the hallway on its own. Food, soft materials for your nest that smell of him. A promise to see you soon.
You'll need to get a Russian dictionary- he might be taking care of you, but there's a few things you can think of to give him as well.
a/n: the content warnings are scaring me omg I promise it’s not that hardcore.. more desperate!sevika for yew guys cus ily ♡
Enjoy ♡
Jinx blinks. Just once. Then again.
“..You good?"
Sevika looks like sin incarnate—glassy red eyes, teeth sunk into her bottom lip, arms caged tight around your waist like she'll die if she lets go. You're straddling her, panting, flushed, and trembling.
You don't even speak. You just nod, slow and stiff.
Jinx stares for a second longer. Then, as if her brain suddenly boots back up, she gags. "NOPE—NO, actually—you two are sick—freaks—I'm leaving."
The door slams shut before you can even say anything.
Silence.
Then Sevika exhales through her nose, a deep, strangled sound—half-laugh, half-panic.
"She saw," she slurs.
"She's gone," you whisper, still seated on her lap, still catching your breath.
You lean in, nose brushing hers.
"Breathe, baby. You're okay."
Sevika doesn't answer. She trembles.
You can feel her hands still gripping your hips like a lifeline.
Her eyes flicker open. They're darker than before. Wrecked.
"I'm not," she mumbles. "I'm fucking not. You don't get it—You don't—"
"Shhh..." you coo. You kiss the corner of her mouth. "What's goin' on in that crazy brain, huh?"
She huffs. "I can't stop. I can't stop thinking about it. About you. Fuck—look at you—sitting on me like that—grinding like that—your fuckin' body—your smell—your heat—your thighs, fuck-"
Your brows lift in faux-innocence. "You wanna get me pregnant, huh?"
She freezes.
You shift your hips just a little, grinding down soft and slow.
Her head drops back against the floor, a rasp torn from her throat.
You smile, mean and sweet. "You wanna cum so bad inside me, don't you?"
"Keep doing that," she begs, voice raw.
"Say that shit. Say it again." You roll your hips harder, taking your time. Her hands slide to your ass, squeezing so hard it burns.
"Want me like this?" you purr. "You want me slow, needy, makin' a mess on your lap while you try to hold it all in for me?"
"Fuck," she groans. "Don't stop—don't you dare stop—“
The moment stretches. Gets heavier. Wetter. The wet spot between your thighs grows, soaking through your shorts and onto her jeans, darkening the denim right where her cock would be. You know she feels it. Her body shudders.
Sevika lifts her head. Looks down. Sees it.
And her entire soul exits her body.
"Oh my God," she whispers. Like she's seen an angel. "You're soaked."
You smile slow. "I know.”
"I didn't even touch you yet," she says in awe. "Didn't even—fuck—what the fuck."
Her hand slides between your bodies, cupping you right over the wet patch.
You whimper, and she moans right with you, palm flexing.
"You're like—dripping." She's talking to herself now. "Just from grinding. That's—fuck, baby."
You lean down, breath warm against her ear. "You're lucky I love you like this."
Then she snaps.
She grabs your thighs, stands up with you still straddling her, and walks straight to the bedroom, jaw clenched like a man on a mission.
You yelp. "Baby—!"
She throws you onto the bed—soft but heavy, just enough to knock the air from your lungs.
Then she rushes to the dresser and pulls out a little vial of glowing, dark-blue liquid.
You stare. "What is that..?"
Sevika hesitates. Her fingers are trembling.
"It's a potion," she mutters. "Magic. I—I got it from this guy. At that fucked up bar in Stillwater."
You blink. "Okaaaay... what does it do?"
She swallows hard. "It gives me a cock.
A real one. For an hour."
Your stomach drops. "Wait—what?"
"I've been keeping it," she says, voice low, raw with shame. "For months. I didn't know if you'd want it—if you'd hate it—I didn't wanna scare you. But I can't—fuck—baby, I need you. I can't pretend anymore."
You sit up slowly, eyes softening. "You kept that from me?"
"I'm sorry," she chokes. "I was scared. I didn't want you to think I was fucked in the head. I just—please tell me you're not mad. Please—please tell me you still want this."
You crawl to the edge of the bed, cup her face, and whisper, "I-I want you in every way you want me.”
And that's when she loses her mind—
Her eyes—fucking blown, wild, locked on you like a starving animal—flicker to your face as if asking one last time. One last chance to back out. One last breath before drowning.
You nod, panting. “It’s okay.”
And you just whisper, "Do it, Sev."
Your lips just barely touch hers when Sevika grabs your hips and rolls you underneath her.
"Lay back," she growls. Her voice is wrecked. "Show me."
You obey instantly, falling onto your back, thighs already spread for her.
Sevika crawls over you, hovering—one knee between your legs, one hand braced beside your head, the other still clutching that glowing blue vial like her life depends on it.
"You sure?" she breathes.
"Sevika," you whisper, trembling,
"Drink it."
She pops the cork with her teeth and downs it in one gulp.
The change is instant. Her whole body jolts, muscles tightening beneath her skin. She groans through gritted teeth, grabbing at the bedframe like she's grounding herself. Then her eyes snap open, bloodshot and wide.
And you feel it. A hot, pulsing pressure growing between her legs. She shudders, staring down at you like she's about to lose her mind.
"I can feel it," she pants. "Fuck—I can feel you already-"
You whimper. "C'mere, baby. Let me see."
She leans back, undoes her belt with shaking hands, and drags her jeans down her hips. You blink—
And your whole body goes stiff.
Thick. Heavy. Veiny. Leaking.
"Oh…. my God."
Sevika's face is pure, desperate hunger.
"You still want this, right?"
Your legs fall open wider. "I need it."
She moans like she's already inside you.
"Fuck, fuck—Baby, look at you—“
Her hands roam like she doesn't know where to touch first. She palms your tits, mouth crashing down to suck and bite at your nipples until you're whining and arching under her. One hand moves lower, sliding between your legs, feeling how wet you are—
"Shit," she pants. "You're dripping. You're gonna take all of it, yeah?"
You nod frantically. "Yes, baby—I promise. Just fuck me—please—“
"No," she whispers. "Not like this."
She grabs you and manhandles your body off the bed, dragging you toward the giant floor mirror mounted to the wall. She kneels behind you, legs spread, guiding your ass down onto her lap.
"Want you to watch," she growls, licking a stripe up your neck. "Want you to see yourself cum all over me."
You moan as her tip nudges your cunt.
She holds you tight. "You ready, angel?"
You whimper. "Fuck me, Daddy—please—“
Sevika freezes. Her breath catches. Her arms flex around you like she might break in half.
“...Say that again."
You smirk, eyes hazy. "Please, Daddy. I want it so bad—I wanna feel all of you—“
She slams up into you in one deep, brutal thrust.
You scream.
Her hand clamps over your mouth, muffling the cry as her cock slams to the hilt. Your eyes roll back. Your stomach bulges—visibly. Sevika sees it in the mirror, sees the thick outline of her dick pressing up through your gut— and she fucking collapses.
She bends low, breath hitching, kissing a trail down your trembling torso while she moans against your skin.
“Look," she breathes, mouth still on your throat, voice muffled and shaky. Her hand grabs your jaw, turns you to the mirror.
"Look what I'm doing to you," she slurs against your skin, still kissing between the words like she can't help herself.
"Mmm—Too big—“ you whimper.
"You're taking it," she growls. "You're fuckin' made for it—"
Her free hand slides down your body, rubbing messy, wet circles over your clit. You gasp, thighs twitching.
"Mmngh! Sev—!”
"Such a good fuckin' girl," she slurs. "So pretty—so full—Daddy's got you, yeah?"
You nod frantically, tears running down your face. "I'm yours—fuck—I'm yours-“
She grabs your chin and shoves two fingers into your mouth. "Suck."
You moan and obey, drool spilling out, running down your chin and soaking her whole hand. Sevika groans, fucking up into you harder, faster, letting your spit coat her fingers before pulling them out and shoving them between your legs, rubbing your clit with your own spit.
“Ohhh—fuck—Fuckfuckfuck—“
"Like that? Like when I force you to drool all over me?" she growls. "So messy—so fuckin' wet—You're dripping all over my fingers—“
You try to respond, but all that comes out is a garbled moan. Sevika leans in and bites your shoulder, hard, as her hips snap up again.
"Beg," she pants. "Say it. Say ‘Please, Daddy.'"
"Please, Daddy," you sob. "Please please please—don't stop—I need it—"
Her pace gets brutal.
Every thrust hits deep, hitting the same spot over and over until your whole body's shaking, your gut visibly bulging with every slam.
"Feel that?" she hisses. "That's how deep I am. Nobody else'll ever get this far, baby—nobody."
Your legs buckle. She holds you up.
You clench around her, so close it hurts.
"Holy shit—I-I'm gonna cum—“
"No," she growls, and suddenly pulls out—
You squeal.
"Fuck—!"
"Face down. Ass up. Now."
“Why—“
“Do it.”
You scramble to obey, legs shaking, falling into position on the bed. Sevika climbs behind you, grabs your hair, and yanks.
"Good girl," she pants. "So fuckin' obedient for me."
She slides in again—deeper than before. You scream into the pillows.
Sevika watches your body in the mirror, sees you arching back into her, taking every inch like you were made for it.
"Say it again," she begs. "Say 'Daddy."
Tears run down your face. "Daddy—Daddy please—don't stop—“
She whimpers, "Fuck—I love it when you call me that, princess."
She leans over you, chest to your back, hand sneaking under to rub your clit again.
"You're gonna cum for me," she whispers. "Gonna milk me for everything l've got. Gonna take it like a good little cumslut. You want me to breed you, baby?"
You nod, sobbing.
"F—Fuck," she gasps, voice cracking.
"Baby—I'm close—shit—gonna cum-"
You twist around to look at her, barely able to breathe. "Y-you're gonna cum?" you whisper, clenching around her on purpose. "You gonna fill me up, Sev?"
She groans, nearly folding over you, arms trembling. "Fuck—fuck—don't say that—"
"Why not?" you whisper, teasing, lips brushing her jaw. "Don't I feel so good around you? Y—Fuck—You like how I squeeze you, baby?"
"So fucking good," she chokes out, rolling her hips deeper, slower. "You're perfect, shit—l- fuck—I can’t—“
She bites your neck and cums inside you with a guttural moan, hips stuttering as she fills you to the brim. You break with her, crying out as your orgasm hits, walls fluttering around her cock as she throbs inside you.
Your reflection shows it all—your open mouth, your tears, her possessive grip, her whole body trembling against yours.
She stays inside. Doesn't move. Just pants into your shoulder, arms wrapped around you like a cage.
"Fuck," she whispers. "You're mine."
You whimper softly, your body limp in her hold—but Sevika doesn't pull out.
Instead, she presses a slow kiss to the back of your shoulder. Then another, lower. Her mouth trails down, lazy and warm, brushing over your spine.
You twitch, breath catching when her lips dip lower, lower, until she's kissing the curve of your lower back.
She groans quietly, hands gripping your hips—then sliding down to squeeze your ass, possessive and worshipful.
"Fuck," she mutters against your skin, voice raspy, almost delirious. "Look at you... look at this perfect fuckin' body..."
You whine, cheek smushed against the pillow. "Sev..."
But she's not done. She climbs back up, her front still flush to your back, cock still inside you, thick and twitching. She presses soft, open-mouthed kisses behind your ear, down your neck, her breath hot and uneven.
"You're so fucking beautiful," she slurs, like she's drunk on you. "Your little sounds, your body—mine, all mine—I'm so fucking lucky..."
You moan softly, overwhelmed, gasping when her hips roll again—slowly, deeply, dragging her still-hard cock along your overstimulated walls.
"Fuck—Sev..." you whimper, thighs shaking, "s-still?"
"Mmhm," she hums into your ear, voice thick with need. "Still hard, baby. You feel too good. Gotta ride it out..."
She thrusts again, slow and deep and praising, her grip firm on your hips. You try to keep up, try to arch your back again for her, but your arms shake and your body sags.
You let out a broken little cry, muffled into the sheets. "I'm tired... it's too much f'me..."
Sevika's hands slide up your sides, holding you gently but firmly. Her lips graze your ear again.
"Mmno," she murmurs. "Don't do that, baby. Don't go soft on me now."
You whimper again, already crying. "C-can't..."
"Yes, you can," she whispers, voice tender but commanding. "Just a little more, princess. C'mon, arch that pretty back for me. Be good for Daddy..."
She kisses your temple, then nips your earlobe as her hips start rocking again—slow, deliberate, drawing out every second of the overstimulation like she's savoring your cries.
"You were made for this," she breathes.
"Made for me."
Your voice is broken, whimpery, barely a whisper: "You feel so good inside me..."
Sevika stills, chest heaving against your back. "Yeah?" she breathes, low and rough, almost like it hurts to speak.
You nod fast, breath catching. "I love it. I love your dick so much, Sev—I love the way it makes me feel so full—safe.. nobody has ever made me feel like this before.”
She groans.
“And nobody ever will.” She grits out. “Love splitting you open like this.. and actually feeling it—feeling you.”
You whisper, trembling, “You fit so perfect, Sev..”
”I know, angel.” She whispers so softly you barely heard it.
"Still leaking out of you..." she mumbles, voice raspy, thick with awe. "Fuck. Look at that. You're dripping, baby."
Her thumbs spread you just to see it-her cum sliding out of your swollen pussy in slow, messy rivulets. Her cock still buried deep, keeping it inside like a plug. She watches it for a second. Then thrusts again.
Slow. Deep. Possessive.
She plants more kisses down your neck, “You’re fucking gorgeous, Y’know that?”
“Shut up.”
“Yes ma’am.”
You're barely coherent by the time she slows down. Just soft, choked whimpers escaping your lips, face flushed and wet with tears, body twitching under hers.
Sevika finally exhales shakily into your neck, body trembling. "Holy fuck..."
She pulls out slowly, and you gasp—your whole body shudders at the stretch and the heat that spills out of you, dripping messily down your thighs.
You blink blearily at the mirror, eyes wide as you glance down between your legs.
"Jesus….." you croak. "I didn't know it was that big."
Sevika lets out a breathless laugh against your back, still catching her breath. "Didn't feel that big when I was stuffing you full like a good girl?"
You shove her arm weakly with a whine, collapsing fully onto the mattress.
She sinks down beside you, both of you half-naked, sweaty, and shaking. Her hand finds your waist. She's quiet for a second, pressing gentle kisses into your shoulder.
You can feel her heartbeat pounding against your back.
"..you okay?" she mumbles, almost shyly.
You nod into the sheets. "Mhm. Just... full. Fucked out. Pretty sure my soul left my body."
She lets out a low chuckle, nose brushing your cheek. "Good."
You snort. "Good?"
"Yeah," she says quietly, possessively.
"I want you ruined. Want you walkin'around tomorrow knowing nobody's ever gonna touch you like this."
"Jesus," you whisper, laughing breathlessly. "You're crazy."
"For you?" she hums. "Every fucking time."
Your chest tightens at that. You roll slightly to face her, and she pulls you close without hesitation, burying her face in your neck.
"You're so pretty when you cry," she mumbles against your skin. "So fuckin' soft. My favorite girl."
You blush, heart melting. "You're gonna make me cry again..."
She just kisses your jaw. “I love you.”
“I love you too.”
Then suddenly, she sits up and scoops you into her arms like you weigh nothing.
"Sev!" you squeal, clinging to her neck.
"What?"
"Nothing.. you're just really strong..." you mumble against her collarbone.
She smirks, carrying you toward the bathroom. "Yeah? You like that?"
"Mhm..." you whimper. "My strong girl..."
"Damn right," she grunts, nudging the door open with her foot. "Strong enough to keep you like this forever."
You shiver. "Forever?"
She kisses your forehead. "‘M not going anywhere."
this is so lazy and i hate it but u guys asked for p2 so ofc i had to give it to you ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა
criticism and ideas are heavily appreciated (˶ˆᗜˆ˵)
ellievsbear
romaincrisis
tangentwithtanner
2087
janainaart
turnnoffyourmind
vaporwave
dailybridgerton
