hidden hills⛰️

20 idk i just shitpost posts are mainly based off song lyrics☹️ (formerly miami mint <3) she/her!

[enfermizada]

Skipping the storyline and going straight into the fucking part..

[secretaryfemme]

how i feel as a certified FREAK knowing it’s finally kinktober:

[toastbutteregg]

[capricornluna-deactivated201810]

this blog hates donald trump

[pearlmarley]

Look how many people hate him. I’m pretty damn happy about that 😁😁😁😁😁😁

[aggressivetapdancing]

I’ve never reblogged something so fast

[sparkleshakes]

I’M TIRED OF SMUT, I WANT TOOTH ACHING FLUFF AND HEART SHATTERING ANGST.

[couchchewer-deactivated20250722]

Simon Riley likes to be crushed. Fuckin' smushed beneath your weight. He loves having you sleep on top of him, sprawled over his chest or all curled up; doesn't damn well matter.

He pouts and grumbles if you hover over his face, especially after he demands you sit on him. He grips your thighs in his big, meaty paws; pulls you down onto his face if he has to.

If you say you're too heavy, he scoffs. It's unacceptable, to have you thinking like that. You can't possibly think he's that weak, can you? No. That's a foolish though.

"Shu' up," Simon mutters into your flesh, lightly slapping the meat of your thigh. "Can 'ear ya thinkin'."

His crooked nose is buried next to your clit, eyes nearly rolled back in sheer bliss. Every word is mumbled against your folds, unshaven jaw nuzzling your sensitive skin. He's in utter ecstasy like this.

"I ain't a weak man, pretty thing."

[bebx]

reblog if you’ve read fanfictions that are more professional, better written than some actual novels. I’m trying to see something

[sargeant-bxrnes]

you’re how i pray.

summary: reluctantly, you found yourself reaching out to the church for guidance, to better your “wrongs.” only to meet father charlie and realize there was a whole world of sins you’ve yet to indulge in. [REQUESTED.]

pairings: charlie mayhew x fem!reader

warnings: conversations about religion and moral, blasphemy (?), charlie is a manipulative freak!. SMUT: this is DIRTYYYY, fingering (fem), oral (fem), unprotected sex, manhandling, dirty talk.

WC: 3.6K (sorry, i got into it)

my masterlist!                     requests are OPEN!

Your steps echoed against the cold stone floors of the church. The towering figure of your aunt walked ahead, moving with self-righteous purpose. You rolled your eyes, biting the inside of your cheek to stifle the irritation that boiled beneath your skin.

Of course, therapy had been a good start. You had actually been making progress, learning to manage your anger, to quiet the voice inside you that urged you to rebel against every rule, every boundary. But your family… they believed therapy wasn’t enough. They had another solution.

Father Charlie. You had heard of him. A young priest, charismatic and well-liked by the community.

Your aunt wasted no time, walking straight up to the office where Father Charlie stood. His presence was larger than life, draped in his priestly robes, and yet his eyes—those piercing brown eyes—held a spark that didn’t quite match the image of a humble servant of God.

“Father Charlie, thank you for meeting with us,” your aunt began, already launching into a tirade about you. Words like rebellious, problematic, and sinful spilled out as though they had been rehearsed. You stood there, arms crossed, glaring at the rows of candles flickering on the altar.

Father Charlie nodded sympathetically but his gaze never left you. He didn’t interrupt your aunt’s sermon, though, and once the woman was satisfied that she had delivered enough holy condemnation, she patted you on the shoulder.

“Father Charlie will talk to you, sweetie. He’ll help you.”

With that, your aunt left, leaving behind a cloud of forced piety. The silence settled in as Father Charlie waited until the doors shut behind her.

“Guessing by your expression, I’m sure this wasn’t your first option, coming to me.” he said, his voice unexpectedly soft.

You shrugged, leaning back against one of the wooden furnitures of his office. “Yeah. My family has unfortunately convinced themselves that I’m a lost cause, and that only God can save me. Or so.”

Father Charlie smiled, and something about it made you feel more cautious than comforted. “Why do you think people see you that way?”

The question took you by surprise. Not the usual condescending lecture, not yet, anyway. “Because I don’t see the point in all these rules they’re obsessed with. I do whatever I want, and that annoys people. We’re born into this world, and instead of living the lives we want, we’re told what to do from the moment we can speak. Doesn’t that sound a little… cruel to you?”

“Rules are there to keep the community together. Without them, society would fall apart.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Maybe. But what’s the point if those rules only help some people? The rich keep getting richer, while the rest of us… we’re always at the bottom. And that’s okay as long as we obey, right?”

“So, you think life is about doing whatever you want? No restrictions at all?”

“Not exactly,” you said. “I just think people should be free to make their own choices. To live without constant guilt and fear hanging over them. This whole idea that we’re supposed to follow blindly or be damned… it doesn’t sit right with me.”

The priest studied you for a moment, and you could feel the intensity of his gaze. “Do you believe in God?”

Your lips pressed together in a thin line. “I don’t know. Maybe there’s something out there, something bigger than us. But the people in this community? The hypocrisy. The way they use their faith to control others. It’s toxic.”

Father Charlie nodded slowly. “You’re not the first to feel that way. But you’re not as alone as you think, either.”

“What do you mean?”

His smile was back, but this time, it held something else. Something darker. “Let’s just say… not everyone in this church follows the rules as strictly as you might think.”

A shiver crept down your spine, but you couldn’t tell if it was fear or something else. His words, his tone—they didn’t match the image of the holy man you had been expecting. You sat down on the couch, to keep some distance.

“Let’s talk more,” he said, his voice dropping an octave. “I’m curious about your thoughts on freedom. On life… on sin.”

Your pulse quickened as he took a seat next to you, far too close for comfort, but you didn’t move. There was something magnetic about him. Dangerous, but magnetic.

“You know,” Charlie began, his fingers lightly tracing the soft edge of the couch beneath both, “a lot of people in your position feel trapped by expectations. You said it yourself: you don’t like the way rules seem to be designed to keep some people down.”

You nodded slowly, unsure where this was leading, but already feeling a shift in the atmosphere.

He tilted his head, his gaze holding yours, and there was a glimmer of amusement—something almost wicked—in his eyes. “You’re not wrong to want freedom. To want more. But what you have to understand is that most people… they’re too afraid to admit it.”

“Too afraid?”

“Yes. They bury their desires under obedience, hoping it will make them feel whole. But deep down, they crave… more. They want to push against those boundaries.” He leaned in closer, his tone growing silkier. “Don’t you?”

“I don’t know,” you said, though you did know. It just didn’t feel safe to admit it—not to yourself, and definitely not to him. “I mean, I get frustrated, but… it’s not like I’m going to rebel against everything.”

“What if you did? What if, just for a moment, you allowed yourself to explore that side of you? The one that questions. The one that craves freedom… and maybe, other things?” Charlie’s eyes sparkled with something that felt far more dangerous than faith.

Other things. The way he said it, as if it were an invitation, hung heavily between both. You could feel the tension building, the heat.

“I think…” you started, your voice shaky, “I think people would lose their minds if I did something like that.”

His lips curled into a slow, knowing grin. “Maybe that’s exactly what they need.”

He let the words sink in before continuing, his voice dipping into something darker, more seductive. “You don’t need to live your life based on what others expect of you. There’s power in choosing for yourself.“

This conversation wasn’t going the way you’d imagined. You had expected judgment, correction—but instead, he was… encouraging you.

“What do you want?” he asked, his voice almost a whisper now.

You looked away, feeling a flush creep up your neck. “I don’t know.”

“You’re lying,” Charlie said softly, his voice dipping even lower. “I think you know exactly what you want. You just haven’t allowed yourself to feel it fully.”

Your heart pounded against your ribs, and you couldn’t ignore the way his words wrapped around you like a dark temptation. There was a part of you that did want something—something wild, something free, something dangerous. But this? Here? With him?

“It’s okay to admit it,” Charlie said, leaning closer, his lips dangerously close to your ear now. “Sometimes… surrendering to what you really desire is more powerful than fighting it.”

Your breath caught, and for a second, you leaned into him, drawn by the magnetism of his words. It was intoxicating—the way he seemed to know exactly what to say. But you pulled back, confusion warring with the strange attraction that was blooming inside you.

“You’re a priest,” you said, as though reminding him—and yourself—would somehow break the spell.

Charlie chuckled, the sound low and smooth. “I am. But that doesn’t mean I don’t understand temptation. Sin is… fascinating, isn’t it? Especially the kind that makes you question everything you thought you knew about yourself.”

There was something so wrong about this conversation, and yet, you couldn’t deny the pull. The way he was making you feel—seen, understood, even desired—was something you hadn’t expected to find in this place.

He held your gaze, his confidence palpable. “You crave connection. An escape from the chains of expectation. You want to live life on your terms, even if that means stepping outside the lines drawn by those who think they know better. I admire that.”

“You really don’t know what you’re getting into,” you said, trying to regain some control.

“Perhaps,” he said, the corner of his mouth quirking up in that infuriatingly charming way. “But what if I’m willing to take that risk? To explore those uncharted waters with you?”

“Is that what you do with all the girls who come in here, Father?” you shot back, trying to mask the way your pulse quickened at the thought.

“Most don’t provoke me the way you do,” he said, his voice low and velvety. “They’re afraid to stray too far from the righteous path. But you… you have a light about you that beckons me closer. It’s intoxicating.”

Your cheeks warmed under his intense scrutiny, but you quickly shook your head, refusing to be swayed. “You shouldn’t say things like that. You’re a priest.”

“Ah, but that’s the thing, isn’t it?” he replied smoothly, his gaze unflinching. “What does that really mean? I wear the collar, sure, but I’m also a man—one who understands the darker desires that lie beneath the surface. You’re drawn to them, aren’t you?”

“Maybe I’m just curious,” you replied, attempting to sound nonchalant.

“Curiosity is a dangerous game,” he said, his voice a seductive whisper. “Especially when it leads you to someone like me. You could explore all the answers to your questions, and perhaps even find the absolution you didn’t know you were seeking—if you dare to take that step.”

“And what’s the price for that?” you challenged, not ready to give in but undeniably intrigued.

“Just your trust,” he said, his gaze piercing through your defenses. “Let me guide you. Allow me to show you that the rules can bend, that the lines can blur. And in return, you’ll discover a side of yourself you never knew existed. It’s a fair exchange, don’t you think?”

“Maybe,” you finally replied, your voice barely above a whisper, “but I’m not so easily led.”

He leaned in closer, their faces mere inches apart. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

He ran his thumb delicately along your lower lip. “Lose yourself in me. Let me be your forbidden pleasure, your dark indulgence. Together, we can create a sin so divine, it will set your soul free.”

You feel his thumb diving inside your mouth. He pressed his thumb deeper, exploring the warm, wet cavern of your mouth as if mapping your innermost terrain.

“Mmmm, so eager to please," he purred, his other hand sliding down your side to grip your hip, holding you steady. "Your mouth was made for sin." With a subtle twist, he coaxed your tongue to swirl around the intrusion, a sinful game of give-and-take that left you breathless and wanting more. "Such a willing little temptress,"

And before you can process, he’s kissing you. And things gets heated, fast. It doesn’t seem to matter that you both were sitting on the couch from his office, inside the church. He claimed your mouth in a bruising kiss, his tongue plunging in to dance with yours in a primal, urgent rhythm. The scent of your arousal mingled with the musky undertones of his cologne, fogging the air with a heady, addictive haze. His hands roamed your body, possessive and demanding, as he pulled you closer, his own arousal throbbing against the confines of his trousers.

“So sweet," he growled against your lips, breaking the kiss only to nip and suck his way down your neck, leaving a trail of heated, open-mouthed kisses. "Such a delicious little sin."

His fingers deftly unfastened the buttons of your blouse, revealing the lacy bra beneath and the creamy swells of your breasts. You gasped, feeling his lips on your skin. Desperate and wanton, hungry.

He kissed and licked a path downward, pausing to toy with the lacy edge of your bra before tugging the delicate fabric aside with his teeth. His hot mouth closed over the swell of your breast, his tongue swirling to coax forth a responsive moan. His lips slid lower, fixating on your nipple. He suckled, the rhythmic pull of his lips and the scrape of his teeth sending jolts of pleasure-pain shooting through your sensitive flesh.

“Mmmm, you taste so divine," he purred, his free hand sliding up your thigh to brush against the damp fabric of your panties. "Every inch of you is made for sin."

You could foresee his intentions even before he started to move. His lips went lower down your chest, over your stomach, to the waistband of your skirt. With practiced ease, he slid his hands down your curves, peeling away the last of your garments with a hunger that bordered on reverence.

Your skirt and panties joined the discarded heap of your blouse and bra on the floor, leaving you bare and vulnerable beneath his intense scrutiny. His eyes raked over you, drinking in every inch of exposed flesh as if committing it to memory. The sight of you, spread out before him, was a feast for his sinful appetites.

“Exquisite," he breathed, his voice thick with desire. "You're a vision of decadence. I'm going to indulge in every moment of our encounter, savoring every morsel of pleasure you offer me."

With that, he sank to his knees before you, his fingers brushing against your inner thighs as he gazed up at you with a wicked promise in his eyes. He leaned in, his breath a hot whisper against your most intimate flesh.

And he went at it, eager to devour. He started off with a long, languid lick with the flat of his tongue, licking from the edge of your slit all the way to the clit. It was utterly sinful, erotic.

He lapped at you, his long, dexterous tongue swirling and delving with a sinful expertise that made you gasp and squirm. The flat of his tongue glided along your slit, gathering your sweet essence before he darted the tip to tease the sensitive bump of your clit. He licked and suckled, alternating between long, languid strokes and fast, frantic jabs of his tongue, each one designed to drive you a little crazier with need.

“You taste so good,," he purred, his words muffled against your pulsing flesh. "I could eat this sweet cunt all day and never tire of it."

Two fingers slipped inside you, stretching and filling you as his tongue continued its relentless assault. He pumped them in and out, matching the rhythm of his tongue's movements as he brought you closer to the edge. His fingers curled, seeking that special spot that would send you plummeting into ecstasy. With each pass, his touch grew firmer, more insistent, as if trying to coax the very essence of your being from your depths. His lips and tongue never ceased their worship of your clit, suckling and flicking against the throbbing nub in a maddening dance of pleasure and desperation.

He could feel you teetering on the brink, your sweet cum flooding his fingers as your hips bucked and writhed in mindless need. His tongue worked frantically against your clit, a dizzying whirl of licks and suckles that left you breathless and begging for more. One last, long lick, and you were sent hurtling over the edge, your orgasm ripping through like a thunderclap.

“Yes," he hummed, his voice a reverent whisper. "Let it happen. Let me feel you cum for me." And as the waves of your climax crashed over you, he remained, drinking in every last drop of your release like a man dying of thirst.

And you thought that would be it, but no. He rearranged you, laying you down as he stripped off his cassock in a hurried tug. The garment joined the pile of your clothes, and he wasted no time unfastening his belt and shucking off his trousers. His massive cock sprang free, the thick, pulsing length already flushed and throbbing with need.

He loomed over you, his thick, throbbing cock jutting out before him like a red-hot brand, burning with the need for release. With a knee, he pushed your legs apart, spreading you in blatant invitation, before positioning himself between your thighs. One hand tipped your chin up, forcing you to meet his burning gaze as he lined himself up with your most intimate entrance.

“Last chance to turn back," he growled, the tip of his cock notched against your aching flesh. "Once I sink into you, there's no going back. You'll be mine, body and soul." He paused, his expression almost wistful. "But I know you won't refuse me. You want this, as much as I do."

With that, he surged forward, burying himself in your warmth with a groan of pure, unadulterated pleasure.

He filled you slowly, deliberately, each inch a decadent slide into heaven as he stretched you impossibly wide around his girth. The sensation was overwhelming, the burn of his intrusion mixing with the sweet, tingling pleasure that only he could evoke. When he finally bottomed out, he paused, savoring the feeling of being completely sheathed within you. He was huge, and you could feel every throbbing inch of him as he pulsed and twitched inside you.

“So perfect," he breathed, his voice low and husky with satisfaction. He took a deep breath, his forehead coming to rest against yours as he fought to regain his composure. "You were made for me. Every curve, every hollow, every inch of your sweet cunt is tailor-made to take my cock."

He began to move, slow and deep at first, withdrawing until only the thick head remained before plunging back in, his strokes growing firmer, more insistent as he lost himself in the mindless pleasure of the joining. — He took you like a man possessed, his pace growing faster, more erratic as he chased his release. The couch creaked in protest beneath both, the sound mingling with the ragged breathing and the obscene squelch of his cock sliding in and out of your soaked pussy. Your back arched, pushing your pert breasts toward his devouring mouth as he feasted on one while still pounding into you. He growled against your skin, the vibrations adding another layer of sensation to the maelstrom of pleasure wracking your body.

Your eyes rolled back, feeling him pounding deep into your cunt as he suckled your tit. Wary, you used a hand to cover your mouth, trying to muffle the sound.

His mouth left your breast with a wet pop, and he sealed his lips over yours in a fierce, dominating kiss. His tongue invaded, claiming yours in a sensual dance that left both breathless. All the while, he continued his relentless pace, his cock pistoning in and out of you with brutal efficiency. He could feel your walls fluttering around him, your sweet cream coating his shaft as you teetered on the brink of another orgasm. With a groan, he broke the kiss, his eyes blazing with a primal intensity as he prepared to unleash his own release.

“Cum for me," he commanded, his voice a raw, desperate snarl. "Take my cock, just like that. Fuck- come for me. Come on my cock.”

The mix of the sensations and the sheer desperation on his voice, how needy it suddenly sounded did it for you. As your orgasm crashed over you like a tidal wave, your inner walls clamped down around him like a vice, cum gushing out to coat his cock and balls. The sensation was enough to tip him over the edge, and with a hoarse bellow, he buried himself to the hilt and came, his thick seed pulsing deep inside you as his body shuddered and spasmed.

“Fuck!" he gasped, his hands gripping your hips like an anchor as he rode out the waves of his climax. "Yes... oh, god... yes..." He collapsed on top of you, his weight pressing you into the couch as he struggled to catch his breath.

As you recovered, you started to process. Thinking to yourself. Did you- did you just fuck a priest? Maybe you ARE as troublesome as people claim.

He slowly pulled out of you, his softening cock slipping free with a wet plop. He leaned down, capturing your lips in a tender, lingering kiss, his eyes never leaving yours. "Don't overthink it, my sweet," he murmured against your mouth. "Just enjoy the afterglow."

He leaned on his elbow, his free hand gently brushing the hair from your face as he took in your flushed, sated features.

"We've both crossed lines. Lines we can't simply erase. But perhaps that's for the best. Perhaps this is the key to setting you free." A sly smile played on his lips as he stood, his naked form glistening with sweat in the dim light. "Now, how about we continue this little sin of ours in the bed, hmm?"

And as that idea enticed you… you realized that perhaps you ARE a lost cause.

[shellshocklove]

brat! | joel miller

pairing/AU: joel miller x brat!female!reader – no outbreak

summary: joel is having a brat summer.

warnings: this is an 18+ fic so mdni! age gap, enemies to lovers vibes? swearing, drinking of alcohol, smoking of cigarettes, reader wears a dress, heels and lipstick but otherwise no other descriptions, use of pet names, brat tamer!joel, dom!joel, manhandling, a little exhibitionism? fingering, choking, spitting, a little dacryphilia, oral (m receiving), cock worship, spanking, degradation (whore, slut), some sub space territory, unprotected sex (don’t do it!!), creampie, one use of the word ‘daddy’, no use of y/n

a/n: this was fun! and naughtier than i thought it was gonna be 💀 i’ve never written a reader so far removed from my own personality lol and i’m kind of obsessed with how this turned out. anyways stream brat by charlie xcx and happy reading! <3

main masterlist / series masterlist / ao3

from the river to the sea, palestine will be free 🇵🇸 this account stands with palestine. the creator of tlou is a zionist, and the second game is largly based on israel/palestine. please, everyone who interacts, educate yourself about the genocide happening right now, and support/donate.

Blitzes of red, green, and blue danced before your eyes. The beating in your temples in tune with the bass vibrating in your chest. Around you the faceless bodies moved in slow motion. The heat rose around you as the sweat clung to your skin.

You’re sure you’ve lost your friends. Well, not lost lost. They were in the dancing crowd somewhere. Behind you, the same ugly guy had been rubbing up against you for a minute too long. You knew because you’d tipped your head back once and his borderline bowl cut hair, polo shirt with deep sweat rings under his arms, and tan chinos, were not it.

His breath stank of tequila when he leaned into your ear, “Hey,” he slurred, “wanna get out of here?”

And that had been your cue to leave.

With a scoff, you turned around to get a good look at him. You’d sized him up, made a show of it, and laughed in his face. Then you pushed your way through the crowd, coming up for air by the bar.

The earlier buzz you’d been sailing on, had weaned off a long time ago. It had been last minute, you weren’t even going out tonight, just having dinner with your childhood friends while you were home for the summer. But then one of them had ordered shots for the table just as the last plate had been cleared, and soon you were at the club cruising on a couple of glasses of wine and a lousy shot. Not that it mattered, usually you ended up twirling some sorry man around your finger long enough to get yourself a couple of rounds, before you’d excuse yourself to the ladies’ room and leave with your friends.

Looking down the bar, you searched for tonight’s victim.

To your right a group of girls huddled around the edge, waiting for their own drinks by the looks of it.

Not them.

Down to your left, a boy with a face full of acne fumbled with his card as he paid for a round of beers. He didn’t even look old enough to be in here, but that wasn’t your problem. You had to hold back a laugh as you watched him struggle to figure out how to carry the five beers he’d ordered back to his friends. He ended up gathering them in a circle to wrap his hands around, and you’d seen this go wrong plenty of times to feel the pull of an amused smile on your lips.

When he’d vanished into the crowd, your eyes flicked back to the bar, to the man sitting there– and he was a man. Probably somewhere in his fifties you reckoned, but he looked gorgeous. A real dilf. Your interest was piqued.

You slid down the bar.

He didn’t look particularly amused where he sat at a bar stool, nursing a beer in his hands. Who sits at the bar in the club? He looked nice. Brown hair, dark jeans, and a grey t-shirt stretched deliciously over his chest. When you got closer you could see a flannel resting beside him on the bar.

Is this what older men wear to the club these days?

He didn’t seem to notice you as you sat down next to him – either that, or he ignored you. You kinda wished for the latter, it would make it more fun.

You gave him a few more minutes of silence, of your presence, to see if he’d say something to you. When he didn’t you asked him over the music, “Aren’t you gonna buy me a drink?”

You said it innocently, but like it was obvious and he hadn’t caught on yet. His head turned towards you, still unamused, but with his eyebrow raised.

Okay, you could work with that.

You didn’t say anything as he studied you, drank you in like you’d done to him from afar. You felt his gaze over your clinging dress, your bare shoulders, before they found your eyes.

Something tickled in your core, and you were reminded of how long it had been since you’d been properly fucked– fucked by someone who wasn’t some drunk guy at your college’s parties, but fucked by someone who knew what they were doing.

The man turned towards you; a smile tickling the corner of his mouth.

“Does that usually work f’you, sweetheart?”

You weren’t expecting his rebuttal, but you liked it. He wasn’t some boy who’d trip over himself for the privilege of being in the presence of you. The boys – they made it too easy – but this man would make you work for it.

Putting on your most saccharine smile you slid closer to him, “You looked so lonely over here– thought I’d keep you company.”

A scoffing laugh escaped him, and his head dipped, “’s that so?” His eyes found yours again.

“Haven’t seen you here before,” you ignored his question, and brushed your heeled foot up the length of his calf.

“Ain’t ever been here before,” he kept his eyes on your face, his drawl pulling at the words and twisting up your insides.

“So, a virgin, huh?” you teased, and that seemed to amuse him.

“What– you’re here to pop my cherry?”

This time an amused smile pulled at your face. You liked this man. “Not without a drink first,” your foot slid down his calf, “what do you take me for?”

A bright sense of pride filled your chest when you made him laugh, filling you up with confidence.

“D’you want me to answer that?” he rebutted.

He didn’t say it with any malice, it was teasing and playful, and it pulled at the veil inside you. A genuine smile pulled at the corners of your mouth, “Probably not.”

“What can I getcha, then, sweetheart?”

“G&T?” you said, and bit down on your bottom lip coquettishly.

Turning away from you, the man got the attention of the bartender. You watched his profile, followed the line of his jaw, the shape of his nose. You decided then and there that your night was gonna end in this man’s bed.

“Sooo,” you sang, when you’d gotten your drink, “first time here, huh?” The man just nodded, before he sipped his beer.  

Not much of a talker, huh?

“You here alone, or? With the wife maybe?”

That pulled a laugh from him. “I’m here with my lil’ brother… bachelor party,” he shook his head, like he couldn’t believe he’d gotten dragged in here, “he’s gettin’ married next month.”

“Ah,” you nodded and took a sip of your drink. “So, where are you heading next? A strip club?” you teased.

The man just shot you an unimpressed look, and you thought about how you’d never seen a man look so out of place, ever.

“What? The wife won’t let you?”

A sharp huff escaped him, “Ain’t got no wife no more,” he said matter-of-factly.

You took another sip of your drink to hide the smile from forming.

Bingo.

“I take it you’re a man who does what he wants, then?” you said it innocently, and subtly slid your hand over his knee. His eyes caught yours at the touch, and you swore you saw something change in them.

You’d hooked him now, all you had to do was reel him in.

He turned his body towards you – he did it slowly, like every muscle he moved had been calculated beforehand. Then he leaned in closer, his hot breath huffing against your ear.

“Takes one to know one, ain’t that right?”

Under your skin, you buzzed, your heart beating out of your chest at the new proximity. You had to stay cool, play it off, act unbothered. So, you pulled away slightly, and turned your head to meet his eyes.

“What?” he challenged with a raise of an eyebrow, “Ain’t used to people talkin’ back?”

When you didn’t say anything right away, a smug grin coated his lips, “Yeah, I know girls like you.”

“There’s no girls like me,” you argued back, his confidence both pissing you off, and turning you on at the same time.

“Oh, but there are– Spoiled daddy’s girls who ain’t had anyone tellin’ them no their whole life. They do what they want, and play with who they want– I know a brat when I see one.”

Your eyes narrowed at him as he pulled away, that infuriating smug grin not going anywhere. The worst part was that he was right, but you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction.

“But you like that don’t you?” you challenged, “I bet you live in some sad house in a sleepy suburban cul-de-sac, go to the same boring job every day, and wish your wife never left you.”

A flash of hurt could be seen across his face as those last words left your lips, and you thought you’d maybe gone too far. A beat of silence passed between you, the buzzing beat of the club music keeping the tune of the tension building.

You were about to apologize when he finally spoke, “You’re a rude one, aren’t ya?”

His voice didn’t sound as hurt as you’d thought, and you realize he was playing your game. You almost had him.

“And what are you gonna do about it?” you challenged, hammering the final nail in the coffin.

“That depends on you, sweetheart.”

Outside the club, Joel (the man had finally introduced himself) leaned against the bricks of the alley as you fished a cigarette from your purse. According to your phone, your uber would be there in ten minutes. The fresh air had sobered you up slightly, exchanging the buzzing alcohol in your veins with excitement.

You didn’t know what you were in for.

Over your skin, you felt his gaze roll over you, and you let him look. Let him study your body filling out your sheer, white, almost see-through dress. You didn’t offer him a cigarette; he’d have to ask for it himself, or take it, if he wanted a drag.

“So,” you took a drag of your cigarette, savoring the first tar-y breath, before exhaling through your nose, “where are you taking me?”

Joel shifted his weight against the bricks as his arms crossed over his wide chest. “Whatchu call it? My sad house?” he said, his voice bordering on cold if it wasn’t for the smug smile covering his features.

You gave him a sultry look as you stepped closer, crossing one heeled foot in front of the other, slowly.

“Mmm,” you hummed, as you tilted your head with an uninterested face, “Sounds fucking boring to me.” Your finger climbed up his chest, eyes traveling from his chest to his face. His stern face gave nothing away, as you took another drag of your cigarette and blew the smoke in his face.

Finally, he’d had enough. His large hand wrapped around your wrist, and tightened, before he turned you around and pushed you up against the wall. You let out an exaggerated huff as your body hit the bricks, your cigarette slipping from your fingers. He pushed himself up against you, and you couldn’t contain the satisfied grin on your face, pleased to have pushed his buttons enough to finally act.

“Oh, I’ll show you boring, brat.”

A rough hand danced up the side of your thigh and under the hem of your dress. Challenging him, you squirmed against the grip of his other hand around your wrist.

“Nuh-uh,” he shook his head, and he was so close now you felt his breath ghost over your lips. With a twist of your arm, he pinned it behind your back, Joel now completely in control, and a buzz of arousal spread through your body at the thought.

“You listen’ up now, and I’m only gonna say it once: you’re gonna do as I say, when I say it, and no talkin’ back, we clear?” His voice was stern, but his dark brown eyes gave him away; how they’d widened with lust, blown out and dark. Your panties already soaked at the thought of what he had in mind for you tonight.

“Yes,” you said playfully, biting down at your bottom lip through a smile.

“Yes, sir,” he corrected as his rough hand on your thigh slid closer and closer to the seam of your thong. “Good girls who do as they’re told get rewarded, you understand?”

You nodded, sucking in a breath as you felt his fingers brush over your clit lightly. He was testing you now, teasing you, and pushing your buttons. You felt like you were on fire, burning from arousal; it licked up your thighs and flickered bright in your core.

Where was that fucking uber?

“But you ain’t no good girl,” he snickered, sliding his hand past your panties, “teasin’ me– tryna provoke me,” he shook his head, and a slick sound of your arousal could be heard as he worked two thick fingers through your wet folds.  

His finger poked at your hole where it ached for him. The thick tension between you weighed heavy with arousal as Joel leaned in closer, his breath ghosting over the shell of your ear.

“Imma have to punish you for that, baby, put you in your place.”

A gasp left your lips as he pressed two fingers inside. The stretch stung slightly, but you welcomed the pain, liked it. A satisfied grin blossomed over your face as he started moving his fingers. They felt so good inside of you, so thick, almost like a cock, and the way his palm rubbed against your clit– it gave you just enough stimulation to push you towards the edge of an orgasm.

“Look at you, slut,” his breath was hot as he whispered in your ear, “so desperate to get fucked.”

A strangled moan escaped your throat, and you couldn’t help but grind against his fingers to chase the pleasure he was giving you. The degrading words and humiliation only made you wetter. Joel couldn’t get any more perfect– so far, he'd played his part to the T.

“In your– fuck!” You moaned as the pad of his fingers brushed up against your g-spot. Just a little more now, and he’d have you coming on his fingers.

“Didn’t hear you, sweetheart, y’need to speak up,” he taunted, continuing the pace of his fingers.

“In your d-dreams, old man,” you tried to spit out, but the pleasure he gave you was taking over, making you stumble over your words.

Quickly, Joel withdrew his fingers, sliding them up the front of your cunt, giving your clit a slap, before he backed off completely. You gasped; face pulled tight in a disappointed frown.

“What the fuck!?”

And then he fucking laughed, fucking laughed at you.

“I already told you, sweetheart, only good girls get rewarded.”

He stepped closer again, his hand cupping your cheek while the other pressed the fingers coated in your arousal to your lips. “Clean up your mess, and we’ll see ‘bout that reward.”

Parting your lips, he stuffed his fingers inside your mouth. They tasted of you, a sweet-salty taste. You closed your lips around them, and sucked, letting your tongue tease around his fingers the way you’d tease his cock. “That’s it, good girl,” he grinned, and it sparked a small flame of pride in your chest.

When he was pleased with you, he slipped his fingers from your mouth. He let them glide over your lips, smearing your lipstick and coating your lips in your own saliva as a set of headlights illuminated the street. Then, he patted your cheek, nodding towards what you assumed was your uber as it rolled to a stop in front of you, “Go on, get in the uber.”

In the uber Joel was quiet, ignoring you as were forced to make small talk with the driver (you’d give him a bad review just for that). When you thought the small talk had been torture enough, Joel slid his hand up your thigh, resting his big palm right at the seam of your leg as he looked out the window. If your panties weren’t already soaked from what he’d done to you in the alleyway of the club, then they definitely were now as the anticipation only grew.

Joel’s house wasn’t sad at all. It was quaint, and suburban, but homey. Nice. No expensive designer furniture, but sturdy and of good quality either way. He had no rare art, but a decent amount of family photos and what looked like a child’s drawings. You stopped in the middle of the stairs to admire them. In one of them Joel looked as old as you were now, with a baby in his arms, in another he had his arm around the shoulders of another man who looked a lot like him, just with darker hair. His brother probably, the one getting married. The little baby was a little girl, and she grew up in front of you; birthday parties, first days of school, soccer uniforms. Your eyes landed on a photo of her in a graduation cap with Joel and the other man at her side, grinning wide with a college diploma in her hands. This man wasn’t who you’d thought. He had a family– a daughter your age. The wall of memories squeezed at your heart, made something inside you always kept hidden break forth–

“You comin’?”

Joel waited at the top of the stairs for you, his face pulled into a confused frown. You skipped up the stairs, happy to have left your heels by his door. When you got to the top, you pushed at his chest, “Just looking at your sad things.” With a roll of his eyes, he led you to his bedroom.

“Get on the bed,” he ordered, but his voice was distant, the bite from the club was gone.

It felt like the perfect opportunity to play with him.

“No,” you blinked innocently, your eyes wide as you watched him unbutton his green flannel, “you’ll have to make me.”

He let out a laugh that sounded more like a sigh, “I’m serious, sweetheart, I need to talk to you first.”

Talk?

“You can’t get it up, is that it? You’re too old?” you teased but sat down at the bed either way.

“You really are mean, aren’t ya?” His laugh sounded like a surrender. “A man wantin’ to be a gentleman and establish boundaries before he ruins her, and this is what he gets?”

Shaking his head, he walked closer, and cupped your head in his hands. “I plan on bein’ rough with ya, sweetheart, and I think that’s what you want too, isn’t it? Get fucked so hard you can’t think?” You nodded your head in his arms, the velvet bass of his voice going straight to your core.

“Listen’ closely– if I do anythin’ you don’t like, you say ‘red’ and we stop, and if you can’t speak then you pinch me, you hear?”

You nodded again.

“Words, baby, need y’to say it with that pretty voice.” His thumbs brushed over your cheek.

You nodded again, “Yes, sir… if I want you to stop, I say ‘red’, or pinch you.”

“Good girl,” he praised, “Anythin’ else?”

“Um…” Your front teeth caught on your bottom lip, “I’m on birth control– you can come inside me if you want.”

A noise rumbled in Joel’s chest. “Such a naughty girl,” his thumb brushed over the plump of your lips, “letting a stranger come inside her, huh?”

You nodded again, a wicked smile breaking against his thumb before you opened your mouth, and bit down. Not hard, just enough to pull a reaction from him, and you did.

Like a switch, the warm whiskey eyes faded into a deep black. The grip on your chin slid downwards, where it found your neck. He didn’t squeeze, but his grip wasn’t gentle either, holding you in place like a warning.

“You ought to treat me with more respect, brat…” he spat, his thumb digging into the column of your neck, “Apologize for your rude behavior.”

Against his hand, you shook your head to the best of your abilities, his grip tightening with your movement. You wished he’d choke you properly, make your head all fuzzy and empty– filled with nothing except for him.

“No.”

His face turned to stone above you, and you felt a giddiness flutter in your stomach.

 He didn’t like that.  

In one quick motion his hand was ripped from your throat as he stepped away. He didn’t look at you as he sighed, his hands falling to his belt buckle, sharp metal clinking.

Taking advantage of the moment, you admired the man before you. How big and broad he was. How his t-shirt stretched tight over his broad chest, biceps bulging against the woven fabric. You studied his hands as they fiddled with his buckle, thought about how good they’d felt inside you earlier, the pleasurable sting as they’d stretched you out.

“Get on your knees,” he ordered, voice cold.

When you didn’t move, he took matters into his own hands.

“Get. On. Your. Fuckin’. Knees.”

His grip around your wrist was tight, as he pushed you down. The hardwood floor dug into your knees as he manhandled you, sure to bruise tomorrow. He stood his ground in front of you, legs slightly parted as you were now eye level with his inviting bulge. He was big, and you felt your eyes widen. Even hidden away in his jeans you could see it, see the length of his hard cock strain against his thigh – it made your mouth water as you squeezed your thighs together.

“Look me in the eyes,” he told you, and your eyes flicked upwards – obedient for once. “Eyes up here at all times– Don’t you fuckin’ dare look away.”

He made it hard to do as he’d ordered, popping the button on his jeans, and pulling the zipper down. You wanted to see his cock, touch it, feel it inside you. He couldn’t possibly expect you to not look when it was right there.

"Disobedient slut.” 

The slap came quicker than the stolen glance, and your hand came up to graze your cheek on pure instinct. It stung under your palm, like a thousand little knives.

“What did I jus’ say?” He spat out the question, his hand gripping your chin to force eye contact.

“Look away?” you tried, your voice rising an octave.

“Open your fuckin’ mouth,” he sighed, leaning closer, “I ain’t wanna hear any more of your fuckin’ attitude.”

His grip tightened on your chin and your mouth dropped open by itself, “Open your mouth– that’s it… wider, just like that.”

Then he spat, right into your mouth.

You flinched at the suddenness of it, but Joel’s grip on your chin held you still– kept your mouth open, as you felt his spit slide further and further into your throat. You had a feeling you shouldn’t swallow until he told you, so you didn’t, your head pliant in his hand as you let him study you. A wide grin spread across his face as he moved your head from one side to the other, his rough fingers denting into your skin as you waited for your next command.

“Swallow, brat.”

He let go of your face, and you closed your mouth, swallowing down his spit with an audible gulp. “Good girl,” he muttered and stood tall, hooking his fingers into the waistband of his jeans.

The rough sound of denim against skin filled your ears as he freed himself. You were on your best behavior now, gathering your hands in your lap, sitting pretty for him as you locked eyes with him coquettishly.

“That’s better,” he said, “Actin’ like a proper good girl now,” he praised.

It took everything in you not to look, as he stepped closer.

With a fist tight around his cock, he brought the head to your mouth. He tapped it on your lips, smearing the precum beading at the tip and ruined your lipstick.

You wanted to taste him so badly, but he couldn’t know that. Pinching your lips together, you shook your head with wide coquettish eyes. His eyebrows pinched together in a frown, eyes narrowing at you as he pushed his cock against your lips.

“Open that pretty fuckin’ mouth, f’me,” he ordered.

Pretty. He called you pretty, and it was enough for you, you gathered, and stretched your mouth open for him.

“That’s it, wider.”

You twitched in surprise as he slapped the length against your tongue. It was heavy on your tongue, the salty taste of his precum mixing with your saliva as he rubbed the head over your tongue, in and out, in and out – coating his big cock in your saliva, “just like that, baby, get it nice ‘nd wet.”

Closing your lips around the mushroom tip, you ran your tongue around it in circles, teasing the underside and the slit, before you tipped your head back. His cock bobbed in front of you obscenely, a frown formed on his face again and you knew he was about to tell you off.

Gathering a blob of saliva in your mouth, you spat on his cock instead. A low humming laugh rumbled from Joel’s chest, as he collected your spit and rubbed it in over his shaft in slow strokes. The spit dripped down, down over your front where you felt it darken the fabric of your dress. Subtly, you reached your hands behind your back to pull at the zipper.

“Yeah, that’s right, get those pretty tits out f’me.”

He let you maneuver out of your dress while he stroked his cock slowly in front of your face, and finally, you could get a good look at him. He was bigger than you’d thought from his bulge. Veins lining his thick shaft as you watched the way his fist moved up, massaging the tip gently, and down again in a slow, steady rhythm. At the base unruly curls of dark hair shone in the spit gathering, and you let your eyes wander downward to his balls where they hung heavy.

You wanted to taste them, too.

With your dress discarded on the floor beside you, you sat up slightly, spreading your legs and tucking your calves up to your thighs. Almost naked, safe for the thong splitting your cheeks, you arched your back slightly, making sure he got a good view of your ass.

A groan rumbled in Joel’s chest, and a hand came down on your head, “You want my cock, don’t you, slut?” he spat, slapping his cock on your right cheek, spreading your spit on your skin.

“Do you make all your girls wait this long or is it just me?” you tutted, almost rolling your eyes at him.

“There’s that fuckin’ attitude again.”

Slapping his cock harder against your cheek, he leaned forward letting a blob of spit drip from his own lips, coating both his cock and your face as he rubbed it in with his cock.

It was obscene, degrading, and you’d never been wetter.

In desperation to taste him again, you opened your mouth and stuck your tongue out. The hand he’d used to stroke himself, wrapped around your skull, caging his cock between his hand and your face as he started thrusting against your face, his heavy balls rubbing against your chin with every slow push.

It was messy, sloppy, and wet. He held your head steady with his other hand, while he continued rubbing his cock over your cheek, nose, and forehead. His spit mixed with your own as you lapped at the underside of his cock; trying to taste as much of him as he’d give you.

“You dirty little whore,” he smiled, “You like that don’t you?”

Under him you whimpered, clit pulsing with want as he made you his plaything, did what he wanted with you.

“Yeah,” you moaned unabashedly, licking greedily at the underside of his cock.

At that, he laughed, and the grip on your head loosened as he pulled back. You only had time to take a deep breath before he stuffed his cock down your throat. It was abrupt, and harsh – the hefty length of him making room for himself inside your mouth.

You couldn’t fit him all inside, gagging as the head of him hit the back of your throat. He held you there still, one second, two seconds, three seconds. Your hand found his thigh where you tapped at him, and finally he pulled away.

You gasped for air, your breath wet with spit as small tears pricked at your eyes. His hand landed on top of your head again, grounding you to the moment as he searched your eyes, checking in.

No, you tried to convey, you’re not too rough.

Pleased, his cock bumped against your lips again, and you dropped your mouth open for him again.

“That’s it,” he murmured, thrusting his cock back in your mouth, “let’me fuck that throat open.”

Dropping your jaw, you tried to make room for him in your mouth. It wasn’t easy, your lips stretched wide around the girth of him as you tried to calm yourself, to open your throat for him to abuse. His cock was easily the biggest cock you’d ever sucked, and you told yourself you needed to relax.

He pressed himself deeper, and you let out a whimper. “Work with me, slut, hold still.”

Trying your best to obey, you breathed through your nose, staving off your gag reflex the best you could as the head knocked at the back of your throat. His other hand cupped your chin, keeping your head still between his large hands. A tear rolled down your cheek when he rutted into your mouth, testing the waters.

“Good girl,” he praised, fucking gently into your mouth. Saliva gathered in your mouth, drooling down your chin with each thrust. “Such a fuckin’ mess– Look me in the eye as I fuck your throat.”

Your hand wrapped around his wrist, keeping you steady as you locked eyes with him. It was difficult, tears clouding him in a vignette, but you did as you were told. He studied you closely, tested your boundaries, completely in control.

You gasped for air when he finally pulled back again. A wet string of saliva connecting your lips to the tip of his cock. A proud smirk coated his lips, while his hand stroked your head in praise.

The small moment of relief passed quickly, and soon his cock was back in your throat, bruising it in a steady rhythm.

“Take that fuckin’ cock all the way down your throat, whore,” he spat, his thrust a little rougher now that he knew you could take it.

He had you at his mercy now as he ruined you. Ruined your throat, ruined your body, ruined you for other men. Tears mixed with snot, which mixed with spit as it ran down your chin, dripping lewdly onto your tits where it made a mess.

Over you, Joel rambled.

“Good fuckin’ slut.”

“Choke on that big fuckin’ cock.”

“You love it don’t you?”

And you did, you loved it. Joel made you feel useful for once in a life – a fucked up thought, but then again you never said you weren’t fucked up. Joel’s words were filthy and dirty, and as humiliating as they were he made you feel wanted.

You just wanted to be wanted.

Another gasp of air filled your lungs as he slipped from your mouth. His grip on your head was tighter now, his cock throbbing in front of you. As much as you wanted him to fuck you, you wouldn’t complain if he came down your throat. He’d given you so much already.

“Fuck,” he whispered and let go of your head.

You took the opportunity to catch your breath, sniffling as you wiped at the snot that clogged up your nose. His hand came down to squeeze at the base of himself, clearly staving off his orgasm.

“What,” you croaked, your voice hoarse after his assault on your throat, “you’re so old you can’t come now?”

His eyes darkened as they locked with yours, and a giddy bouncing feeling twisted in on itself in your tummy. You wanted to see what he’d do to you– how he’d fuck you, and if you’d have to push his buttons to see it, you gladly push the big red button.

His hand wrapped around your bicep, digging into the skin as he dragged you to your feet and pushed you towards the bed.

“Still a fuckin’ brat I see,” he spat, “We can’t have that can we?”

Putting on your best puppy dog eyes, you bit down on your bottom lip. “Who me?” you said innocently.

“Bend over, slut,” he ordered, his voice coated in a tone that said he was fed up with your bullshit. Strong arms turned you around, manhandling you, and pushed your front down on his bed, “’nd spread your fuckin’ legs.”

With a kick to your ankles, he forced your legs open. Tipping your head up, you locked eyes with your reflection in the window, like a camera lens capturing your ruin at Joel’s hand. He hovered over you, his eyes trailing over your naked body, laid out for him to take.

The first smack came quickly, hard, and brutal on your ass cheek. It made you jump, the muscles in your ass clenching as you tried to reel yourself in. Joel’s rough hand soothed over the burn immediately, and you turned your neck to find his eyes.

“I wanna hear an apology from you, brat,” he said calmly, one finger hooking into the lace of your thong.

You shook your head. Stubborn. “No.”

His head fell between his shoulders, while his finger hooked in your thong tightened its grip, and with a hard tug, he ripped it in two.

“Then I’m gonna have to punish ya.” He said it with a deep sigh, like he had no other choice.

You couldn’t hide the excitement that filled you at those words, your cunt now dripping with need. A need for Joel.

With the scrap of your thong now discarded his hand danced over your ass. You tried not to hold your breath, but he drew it out, and you couldn’t help it. The tension in the air so thick, you couldn’t focus.

Smack!

He spanked your other cheek hard, and the tension was released with a whimper. A tickling feeling of pins and needles spread through your cheek.

Smack! Smack! Smack!

They came in quick procession, your hands gripping the sheets for a lifeline as he put you in your place. Moans fell from your lips without abandon, and you felt yourself drip down your legs.

Smack!

“Look how wet you are,” he noticed, running a finger through your seam, “You like it? Only desperate whores like to get spanked.”

He leaned over you, his soft belly (when had he removed his shirt?) pressed against your back, coarse hair tickling your skin, as you felt his hard cock rub up against your sore ass.

“But that’s what you are, ain’t you? A desperate fucking whore.” His breath in your ear, had goosebumps erupt down your spine, and you sobbed out a whine.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” he whispered, and pulled away – taking his warmth with him.

Smack!

Tears pushed their way behind your eyes, not because you didn’t like it, but it stung like a motherfucker. Joel wasn’t all brutal, he rubbed your skin between hits, but fuck if it didn’t also hurt with pleasure.

“Say you’re sorry,” he demanded.

Turning around you shook your head, big wide eyes watching him as he spanked you again.

Smack!

“You’re tearing up, little girl– It stings doesn’t it?” he asked, voice laced with fake pity.

You nodded.

“Well, maybe you should be a good girl then– say you’re sorry.”

Smack!

“I’m sorry!” you blurted out, voice cracking.

Finally.

Joel stopped immediately, his hand twisting around your waist to flip you on your back. His eyes danced over your body, almost tenderly but still full of lust. His hand moved up and down your sides, down the thick of your thigh before they gripped your ankles and tugged.

A squeal escaped you as he manhandled you, his large hands cupping your face while he fitted himself between your legs. “Good girl,” he cooed, thumbs stroking your cheeks, “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

You shook your head in his hands, popping your lip out in an innocent pout.

“No,” he cooed, removing a hand to fit between your bodies.

You gasped when you felt the head of his cock bump your clit, the first real stimulation you’d had since you’d left the ally by the club. Your hips bucked by themselves, chasing the friction of his touch.

“Who owns this cunt?” he asked you, dark eyes staring into yours as he dragged his cock through your soaked folds.

“You do, sir,” you sighed immediately, your whole body aching for him.

A wide wicked grin spread across his face, “Lookit you bein’ such a good girl– finally know your place, huh?”

With no warning, you felt the blunt head of him press at your opening, and then Joel pushed inside you. Your mouth parted in a gasp at the intrusion; eyes glazed over in bliss as you felt yourself get split in two around the girth of his cock. He was so big, filling you up inch by inch, a heavy pressure poking at the deepest part of yourself.

“There you go, baby– you jus’ take it. Take all that cock inside,” he grunted, eyebrows pinched tight.

All you could do was moan as you felt him bottom out inside you, “Shit,” you gasped, “So fuckin’ big.”

“I know, baby, you’re doin’ so good f’me,” he praised, starting to rock his hips into you.

He picked up the pace quickly when he was sure you could take it, splitting you open on his cock as he made you takeit. Under him you could feel yourself float away in the pleasure. His hand came up to wrap around your neck and a big smile spread across your face.

You felt so warm. Joel felt so fucking good.

He reduced you to a puddle, a puddle of pleasure and ecstasy. It was better than any drug you’d ever taken. Better than the first day of summer vacation. Better than anything you’d ever known. The sound of skin against skin faded away into a tranquil rhythm of pleasure. You belonged to him now, lived only for him and the way his cock felt inside you.

“Feel how deep that is?” he asked you, somehow having maneuvered your knees to press into your chest.

You couldn’t do anything other than nod, desperate and whiny. You needed to fucking come. Inside you, his cock bumped into a spot no other man had reached before, and a fluttering feeling coiled itself in your core.

You were so close now.

“Joel,” you gasped, searching for the words as he continued his pace, balls slapping hard against your ass.

“No,” he told you, teeth gritted, “You hold it, slut, you hold it ‘till I give you permission.”

Later, a thought of how he’d had you so close to coming without even a tap at your clit would graze you, but in this moment your thought were only filled with Joel. A hand found his bicep, you needed something to hold on to or you’d burst, and squeezed. Above you Joel’s groans and moans got louder.

“Hold it.”

Tears streamed down your face, as you heaved for breath. You were right there, right on the edge now.

Please, Joel, please, sir, please.

“Come.”

Arching your back off the mattress, you shook as you finally tipped over the edge of bliss. The sounds escaping your throat weren’t your own, they were someone else’s, someone possessed with pleasure.

A “Thank you,” fell from your lips, but you don’t think he heard you. Above you, Joel’s movement became more and more erratic, thrusting himself deeper and deeper before a loud groan vibrated through his chest.

“You take it,” he growled, “take all that fuckin’ cum inside.”

He slammed his hips hard against you, pushing himself as deep as he could inside you, and came with a loud primal groan. His cock twitched within your walls as he emptied himself inside your cunt, the warmth of him filled you up as he painted your walls with cum.

“Good fuckin’ girl,” he mumbled, burying his face in your neck, “That cum feels so good inside, don’t it?” he cooed, and you nodded, your hands tangling in his hair. He pulled back and thrusted inside you again, fucking his cum deeper inside.

He stayed inside you as you both caught your breaths. His weight felt good on you, you were safe, as you floated somewhere between reality and a space you’d never been pushed to before.

And you missed him when he pulled away, sliding his half-hard cock from your fucked out cunt, dragging you with him up the bed. You reached for him, laying your hand open against his sheets, but he didn't see it, eyes mesmerized by his spend dripping out of you. His fingers slid through the mess, pushing his cum back inside as his eyes found yours.

Then something in the air shifted, and whatever had come over you, was gone. His fingers left streaks of wetness down the inside of your thigh as he pulled away. For the first time in your life, you didn’t know what to say.

You were ruined now – he’d ruined you for everyone who wasn’t him.

You sat up, turning your head over your shoulder to watch him, watch how his eyes trailed your body.

“Smoke?” you asked, your voice more unsteady than you’d thought.

Joel shook his head as you slung your feet off the bed to find your purse. He sat up against the pillows resting against his broken bed frame. Your eyes raked over his naked body as you fished a cigarette from your packet; drank in his strong arms, his wide chest and followed the dark hair of his happy trail down his belly to his soft cock between his thighs, still coated in your combined cum. Between your legs you could still feel his thick spend leak out of you.

You brought the cigarette to your lips, and just as you were about to light up Joel’s rough voice spoke, “Out the window,” he ordered with a nod in the direction of the window.

Everything was back to how it was before.

A dramatic huff escaped you, “All right…” you muttered.

You felt too heavy– he’d messed with your head; made you show him the real you. He couldn’t see that. So instead, you put your mask back on, turning to face the window to conceal the mischievous smile threating to spill across your face.

“Daddy.”

Behind you, as you cracked open the window, you heard the bed creak. You played it cool, lighting your cigarette and blowing the smoke out the window.

Joel’s breath teased at the back of your neck and over your bare shoulder, making goosebumps dance down your spine, “Thought I’d fucked the attitude out of ya,” his voice was stern.

“Guess I was wrong.”

part two -> here!

i hope someone liked this? a comment telling me your favorite part is always welcome, and my ask box is always open to chat <3 other than that thank you for reading!!

© shellshocklove, 2024 i do not give any permission to repost, translate, feed to AI or redistribute any of my writing, with or without credit!

[joelscruff]

is it that sweet? (joel miller x f!reader) 18+

masterlist | a/n i've had no motivation to write lately but this randomly popped into my head the other day and suddenly my brain was like okay let's roll!! let's do this!! let's jump in!! so idk what that says about the current state of my subconscious. anyway this is filth! pls read the warnings! love u. summary: you probably shouldn't let some random middle aged man on the beach take nude photos of you, right? right? rating: 18+ explicit warnings: pervy!joel, age gap, voyeurism, coercion, objectification, sneaky picture taking, nude photos, paying for sexual favors, dirty talk, praise kink, pussy pronouns up the fuckin wazoo, oral (f receiving), nipple sucking, unprotected p in v sex, standing sex, creampie word count: 8.4k ao3 dividers by @saradika-graphics 🤍

He's been watching you for about an hour. You'd sussed him out almost immediately after settling onto your beach towel and digging into your bag for your sunscreen, mildly aware of the shape of him in your peripheral vision. He's old, definitely in his late fifties, but certainly not the most unattractive man who could be eyeing you. You're used to it by now anyway, almost feed into the way men seem to gawk at you sometimes now that you've finally thrown caution to the wind and stopped giving a fuck about your beach body. You used to be self conscious about your curves, your tummy, your thighs - you decided this summer that it had to stop.

And you're glad you did. Because now he's staring at you, this unnamed, completely anonymous middle aged man only a few feet away. And it feels fucking good.

Should it feel good? Probably not. Should you tell him to buzz off and leave you alone? Take a picture, it'll last longer, something like that? Probably. But will you? No.

You like feeling his eyes on you.

Older men like you, you've noticed. They stare. They stare more than men your own age - boys, really. Twenty somethings who try to play it cool and more often than not come across as disinterested in their interest. They're cowardly, obnoxious. And you suppose some older ones are too, especially the ones with wives - they want you to be impressed by them, ooh and awe over their high paying jobs and big mansions, their fancy cars that they think make up for their tiny dicks.

But every now and then you'll come across one like this. You can read him like a book, peering at him from over your sunglasses every so often as he lounges behind a vibrant blue umbrella. His eyes caress your bare shoulders and chest, your exposed stomach, your soft thighs. They linger on the places they shouldn't and it makes you tingle. He's appreciating what he sees, basking in it, taking his time.

You could be content just lying here and letting him look. He is handsome after all, greying curls and soft scruff flecked with white, golden skin that almost glows underneath the sun. His legs stretch out over his own towel, long and lean and strong. He's got a soft looking belly, hanging out a little bit over his trunks, and now your eyes linger for a little longer than they should.

But you won't say anything. If he wants to talk to you, he has every opportunity to. You're not going anywhere for at least another hour, not until the sun starts setting and it's time to head back to your friend's vacation home. You've only been in California for a short period of time, but it's like it's somehow molded you into a different person - a more confident, sexier version of yourself that's been dying to get out for years. A version of you who lets this old man stare and get his fill as you smirk and turn over on your towel, arching your ass up into the air.

Oh, he likes that. You can tell because of the way his jaw clenches, neck tightening as his eyes fall to the globes of your cheeks. With a barely there smirk, you arch a little more, stretching and flexing and letting him take in the way your bikini bottoms barely contain them. Your breasts hang low onto your towel, practically overflowing from their own containment, and you have to admit - you're getting a little wet posing for him like this.

He licks his lips, eyes flickering downward again to something closer to him, something in his hand. You crane your neck a little bit to peer around the blue umbrella, and your breath hitches.

He's taking pictures of you.

It's obvious now, should have been obvious this whole time, really. Only one of his hands has really been visible, the other settled low against his side behind the umbrella. Now you can see that he's got his phone angled toward you, the camera peeking slyly out from behind the blue nylon as he repeatedly taps his screen with his thumb. To test him a little further, make sure you're really seeing what you think you're seeing, you push down into the sand with your hands and rise up a little bit on the towel, almost into a lazy downward facing dog. Your tits jiggle below you, threatening to escape, and out of the corner of your eye you watch as the man adjusts the camera to get a better angle. His thumb and forefinger glide across the screen, undeniably - and unashamedly - zooming in.

You're definitely wet now. You know you shouldn't be. You know this has probably gone too far and you should get up and leave, potentially tell someone about the creep on the beach taking photos of women in bikinis.

Instead, you make eye contact with him, settling back down onto your towel with your ass still perched a little in the air. He seems to freeze, eyebrows going up in the realization that he's been caught. In response, you blink slowly at him, pout a little bit as if to say, Really? You arch your back a little more and shimmy your hips, tilting your head as you continue to gaze over at him, eyes going a little hooded.

Come fuck me, you're almost saying, even though you know there's no way in hell you're gonna let him. It's just funny to watch him squirm, phone gripped tight in his hand as his adam's apple bobs in his throat. You arch a little more and then grind your hips into your towel, flattening yourself against it, holding his gaze. You rest your head and smile at him teasingly.

He's getting up and shuffling toward you in no time at all.

"Hi, darlin'," are the first words out of his mouth when he reaches you, and you certainly did not expect a Southern accent to fall from those plush lips. He's gorgeous really, now that you can see him up close - wide shoulders and big arms that strain against his white shirt, strong chest covered in little freckles, chocolate brown eyes that shimmer in the sunlight.

"Hi," you say with a smile, blinking up at him.

"I'm sure you saw what I was doin'," he seems a little embarrassed, voice apologetic as he scratches the back of his neck, "I know I shoulda asked, but you seemed so relaxed, I didn't wanna disturb you."

Bullshit, you only came over because I smiled at you. Any other reaction and you'd have run for the hills.

"I'm Joel," he reaches his hand down for you to take. For some reason, you shake it without hesitation. "I'm actually a photographer, believe it or not."

Huh. You raise an eyebrow at the words, doubt immediately swimming in your mind as you assess him.

"If you're a photographer, where's your camera?"

He chuckles, "Back at my hotel. I just came out here to relax, wasn't plannin' on takin' any photos. But then I saw you, and, well..." he smiles at you sheepishly, "You're just so pretty, darlin'. Never seen somebody like you before."

The words are not special. They're nothing you haven't already heard, nothing he hasn't probably already used on countless other women. And yet... you smile back at him, cheeks warming a little at the way the compliment sounds coming out of his mouth in particular, all Southern and sweet. "Thank you."

His eyes suddenly leave yours to flicker back toward your body again, scanning the length of you. As if on instinct, almost to show off, you tighten the muscles in your ass cheeks and then release, letting them jiggle a little bit under your swimsuit. He swallows tightly.

"Would you be interested in posin' for me, sweetheart? There's a little spot down the beach, outta sight. Still public though, of course. I wouldn't ask you to go anywhere unsafe," his eyes linger on your ass for a few more seconds before he's meeting your gaze again, soft and sincere, "I'd love to get some pictures of you in that bikini, and some with it off too, if you're comfortable with that."

Oh, he's fucking brave. You can feel disgust brewing in the pit of your stomach, a scowl beginning to dawn on your face. This is where you should draw the line. This is where you should get up and leave, tell him to go to hell, tell him he's a pervert and-

"I'll pay whatever you think is fair," he continues, "How's three hundred as a starting point?"

On second thought...

"Beautiful, baby," he's telling you softly, "You're so pretty like that."

You hum in contentment, laying in the sand with a little smile tugging at your lips as Joel maneuvers around you with his phone, snapping pic after pic as you peer up at him through rays of sun. You're a little ways down the beach now, in a sparser area behind some rocks. He was right about it still being public - if something happened, you know you could raise your voice the tiniest bit and be heard immediately by people on the other side. Somehow though, despite his forwardness and slightly perverted habits, you trust that he isn't going to force anything on you.

You've already got three hundred dollars in your purse. He'd given it to you before you'd even gotten up from your initial spot on the beach, placed it in your hand with a grin as your eyes widened. You suppose you could've taken the money and run, but part of you wanted to play it out, test the limits, see what else he'd pay you for.

Which leads you here, laying sensually in the sand with the strings of your bikini dangling a little looser off your shoulders and hips, a little careless, a little more teasing. The poses so far have been pretty basic, and you've tried your best to emulate what you think a supermodel on the cover of Sports Illustrated would do. Based on Joel's responses - excited nods and gentle praises - you think you're doing a good job.

"Turn over now," he tells you with a playful grin, "Put that cute little ass in the air again for me."

It should be demeaning, the way he's talking to you. There's a lot about this situation that should be wrong, and yet you can't help but feel pride swell in your chest at his directions, his compliments. You do what he says, flipping over to dig your hands into the sand and arch your back, turning your head to eye the camera directly with a sultry little smile on your face.

"Perfect," he's murmuring, thumb tapping the screen like his life depends on it, "That's so perfect, honey." You listen to the fake little shutter sounds the phone makes, still wondering if he's even really a photographer. Would it even matter? Wouldn't you have still let him do this anyway?

With this new angle you can feel the loose strands of your bikini top starting to slip, unraveling at the back and trickling gently against your sides. You watch with what should be a worrying lack of urgency as it cascades down onto the sand below, leaving you topless.

He whistles low under his breath, "Well, would you look at that. The girls are out."

"That's an extra fifty," you say with a coy eyebrow raise, "Or else I cover them back up."

"Extra fifty, no problem" Joel echoes, "Can you shake your ass for me again, darlin'?"

You nod, tilting your head and peering back at him as you tighten and release your muscles with a giggle, basking in the way he stares at it, like it's a five course meal he's about to devour. You do it a few more times, arching your back a little more and spreading your thighs slightly to allow for more recoil, more jiggle. He makes an odd sound in the back of his throat and you grin.

"How much to take these off too?" he lowers the phone and peers at you with pleading eyes, brown and soft, "Huh? How much extra to show me this lil' peach, honey?"

You grimace, looking down at the sand and trying to calculate an appropriate cost in your brain. You bite your lip, "You know that's not the only thing that'll show."

"I know," he murmurs, eyes trailing downward again to eye your ass, still perched high and plump, "Your peach and your pussy then, how much?"

Fuck.

"I won't touch you," he promises softly, "You can just tug it down and show her to me, lemme see her up close, yeah?"

Her?

Her.

"Christ," you mumble under your breath. He's filthier than you thought, and not in a bad way - in a fucking hot way. "Another fifty," you decide, voice firm, "And... and I wanna see you put the money in my purse first. And no touching my... her."

"I can do that, sweetheart," he's already digging into his wallet and yanking out the money, opening your bag slightly to place it inside. It could be counterfeit for all you know; this whole thing really might be a completely worthless venture, and yet -

He watches as you reach backward to untie the strings of your bikini bottoms, doing it in one fell swoop and then spreading your thighs again, knees digging into the sand. You arch and press your face against your towel, feeling goosebumps rise all over your skin at the knowledge that he's staring at where you're now completely bare.

You hear him groan, a rough little sound that goes straight to your core, and a few little shutter sounds go off, "Now, that's a pretty little pussy you got there, baby."

Heat rises throughout your body, up through your chest and to your cheeks. You turn a little to look at him shyly, lashes fluttering when you see where his gaze has settled.

"Yeah?"

"Oh, honey, she's so pretty," he breathes, "She's all wet. Leakin' for me, you see that?"

You can't see it of course, but you can feel it; feel the way you're dripping, knowing that he can see it, has a 1:1 view of the way you throb and drool for him. This random old man who about twenty minutes ago you'd never spoken to in your life.

"And your little clit is sayin' hi to me too, babygirl, can see her pokin' out." Fuck. You squirm a little in place as his camera continues to go off, legs spreading a little more unconsciously as you tilt your head downwards and close your eyes. Your clit twitches under his stare.

"Swollen little thing," he breathes, barely loud enough to hear, "Perfect pussy."

Jesus Christ.

"Roll over for me again, sweetheart," you hear him say quietly, "Show me all those pretty parts."

You don't know why, but you whine a little at his words. It's subconscious, a burning desire you can't describe as you slowly flip over and lazily lay back on your towel to show him your entire naked body. He stands over you with his brow furrowed in a gentle kind of way, eyes appraising you up and down like you're some kind of goddess. And fuck, he's kind of making you feel like one.

"Legs open a little bit, baby, that's it." You obey, spreading your legs and looking up at him with lidded eyes, lips parting a little. You bring your arms up to rest behind your head and he takes note of the way your tits bounce for him, shivering back and forth beneath his gaze. "You're perfect," he murmurs, "You're absolutely perfect."

"Stop," you say, unable to stop a grin from spreading across your face, "M'not perfect."

"But you are, darlin'," he shakes his head, eyes full of wonder as he kneels down to get some closer pictures. You watch as he brings his phone down directly in front of your pussy, snaps a few close-ups of your puffy lips and swollen clit. "I'd love to kiss her, honey, if you'd let me."

"N-no," you say quickly, though your voice cracks, "No touching."

"I'll pay you extra," his eyes return to yours, locking your gazes, "You name it, baby. I'll pay anything to taste how sweet you are down here."

You look at him calculatingly, tilting your head. Anything?

"Two hundred," you practically whisper, "In the bag."

You're half expecting him to tell you that he's run out of money, that he couldn't possibly give you any more than the four hundred he's already blown on this. But he surprises you, reaching back into his pocket to grab his wallet and tug out the bills. It's like he has an endless supply, and you're beginning to wonder if maybe this is a hobby of his, something he prepares for, carries money around to be ready to spend on women like you. Maybe he's rich rich, has unlimited money to throw away, and this is just his weird perverted thing he does on the side of something else.

Maybe you should have asked for more.

But he's already kneeling back down into the sand and you're already opening your legs wider for him, allowing him to settle between them and lean his head forward to place his lips gently against your pussy. You watch with heavy lids as he kisses you so softly there, his mouth tender and inviting and deliciously scratchy from his scruff. Without really thinking about it, you reach down and run a hand through his curls, smiling a little fondly as he kisses you again, and again, and again.

"That feels nice," you breathe, watching as he continues to press incredibly slow and gentle kisses to your cunt in an almost respectful way, a reverent way.

"Good," he murmurs, lips vibrating against your core, "Want it to feel nice for you, baby."

You let out a soft moan the second his tongue breaches your folds, wet and warm. You watch as he closes his eyes and seems to get lost in it, tasting your pussy like it - or she, as he'd said - is some rare delicacy he's never indulged in before. He trails the tip of his tongue through the mess you've made, maneuvering your puffy lips and flicking it against your clit. Your hips buck and another moan slips out, quiet and pitiful.

"That's it," he murmurs against you with a little half smile, "So sweet for me, honey." He dives back in immediately and slowly plunges his tongue inside your entrance, fucking into you a few times before carefully pulling back and opening his eyes to peer up at you again. God, those brown eyes are fucking sinful. He gives you one more smile and then reaches down to grab his phone.

"Gonna get some more pics of this messy girl, okay?" he breathes, and you're a little startled when his left hand is suddenly coming down to touch you there, two fingers carefully scissoring you open. You don't say anything, too horny to protest, too intrigued to see what he's going to do. "Gotta open her up a little," he tells you softly, answering your unspoken question, "Wanna take a little peek at what she's hidin' inside her, baby."

A little whimper falls from your throat again as his fingers scissor you wider, holding you open and baring your hole to his camera. You can feel your walls twitching and pulsing, contracting and leaking; you can only imagine what it looks like. Your eyes roll a little when his middle finger taps your clit, another gush of arousal flooding past your opening.

"Look at this lil' hole, huh?" he's murmuring, but your eyes are closing and your head is falling back onto the towel as he plays with you, "Oh, she's alllll messy for me down here, baby. And it's no wonder your clit came out to see me, she loves gettin' played with, don't she?"

Christ, he knows how to talk. His words send another helpless little sound past your lips, thighs trembling as he slowly caresses your clit with his finger, pressing down on it with just the right amount of pressure.

"Aw, you're all sticky here again, baby," he whispers and you whine, feeling your juices dribble down toward your ass, "Shh, I'll take care of it," and then he's leaning back in to lap at your folds, a little faster this time, more desperate, "Tastes so good, pretty girl. So sweet."

He suckles your clit into his mouth and you let out a breathless moan, brow furrowing as he suctions the swollen nub and lets one of his fingers fall to slip inside your entrance. You're so close you can feel it, coiled inside and ready to snap at any moment, his thick index plugging you deliciously as his tongue swirls. You tighten around it, thighs squeezing a little around his head, and then-

He's pulling away, removing his mouth and finger. Your eyes flutter open and you watch as he stands up with a little groan, older age apparent in the way he clutches at his back and exhales once he's upright. You want to tell him to get back down here, finish what he started, but part of you feels like it'd almost be letting him win, somehow. This perverted creep on a public beach that's somehow managed to lure you away and get you naked, take photos of your body and eat your pussy. He doesn't deserve to have you beg for him - even if you want to.

"Can you stand up for me now, honey?" he tilts his head, squinting against the sun and smiling like he didn't just ruin your orgasm.

On shaky legs, you manage to pull yourself up from the sand and stand before him in all your naked glory, legs crossing a little as you squeeze your thighs together. He smirks but doesn't say anything about it, instead angling his phone toward you again and snapping some full length photos. You immediately do your best to go back into Sports Illustrated mode, posing a little and trying to ignore the ache between your legs, the relentless throb of where his mouth just was.

"Squeeze your tits together for me," he tells you, voice a bit deeper, rougher, full of arousal, "Cup 'em a little, show me those cute lil' nipples."

You do as he says, biting your lip and showing the camera exactly what he wants to see. Your nipples are peaked and hard, begging to be teased and tugged, but you refuse to do it yourself - you're not giving him the satisfaction, not after what he just pulled. He takes a few up-close pictures, camera so close to them that you shiver with sensitivity, the smallest bit of air from his movements causing them to tighten even more.

"Those are so beautiful, baby," he murmurs softly, gaze trailing upwards to meet yours, "Can I give 'em a kiss too?" God, his eyes are so fucking soft and sincere, like fucking boba pearls. You wonder if anyone's ever been able to say no to him.

You swallow, keeping eye contact, "For another fifty, sure."

He chuckles at that, "You drive a hard bargain, darlin'."

"I know what I'm worth."

He smiles, nodding slowly, "That, you do." He pulls out his wallet and slips another bill into your bag, then shuffles toward you again. You try to keep your breathing calm when one of his hands comes up to cradle your bare back, pulls you in a little bit as he lowers his mouth to your right nipple. With hazy eyes, you watch as he presses the softest little kiss to it, then does the same to the left.

Part of you wants to pull back and say that's it, that's all you get, just to see what he does, give him a taste of his own medicine. But then he's wrapping his lips around the pebbled bud and suckling, your eyes going glassy, jaw dropping a little as your hands come up to hold his shoulders. Your pussy throbs at the sensation, thighs rubbing together again as he suctions just the right amount and swirls his tongue all over the hard peak. It's impossible not to let a quiet moan fall past your lips, something he returns with a little mmhmm around your nipple, a wordless I know.

It feels so good that you feel your guard going down even more than it already has, feel your head falling forward to rest against his. His greying hair is so soft, so warm from the sun. You blink slowly and inhale, cheek smooshing into his temple as he sucks and sucks and sucks, then turns his attention to the other one. Little whimpers are tumbling past your lips, your hands squeezing and caressing his shoulders as you feel yourself starting to drip down your inner thighs.

It's so fucking intimate, much more intimate than you anticipated. And when he finally pulls away and comes back up to peer into your eyes again, leaving your nipples puffy and a little sore, you betray yourself by leaning forward to kiss him softly, tugging his bottom lip into your mouth and returning the favor with a little suckle. You feel him smile against you, the hand on your back tightening as he brings his other one up to tangle in your hair. His lips are plush and wet - a little chapped from what he's just done to your nipples - and he tastes like pussy.

It's fucking heavenly.

"I wanna show you somethin', babygirl," he murmurs against you after a moment, and you nod a little too quickly, a little pathetically. You're starting to realize that you're losing the battle here, if there ever even was one.

He pulls back a little, eyes still soft. You watch as he reaches down to his swim trunks and unties them, heart suddenly in your throat as he slips his hand inside and comes out with an absolutely beautiful dick. It's long and thick, rounded and full at the tip with an extremely suckable looking mushroom head, as well as a prominent vein trailing up his shaft that makes your mouth water. You both stare at it for a few seconds without speaking, your lips parting but no words coming to mind.

"You wanna take some pictures with my cock, honey?" he asks you quietly, and you think he's probably looking at your face now, watching your expression, but you're still just staring at his dick.

"W-what?"

"Just a few, like...well..." he shuffles forward a bit and very gently presses the warmth of his cock against your bare stomach, letting the tip sit just above your belly button, "Like this."

Your brain is blank.

"That okay?"

His cock is so heavy.

"Darlin'?"

And warm.

He pushes some of your hair behind your ear, cradles your face in his big hand, "I know, honey," he murmurs, "You just gotta say okay."

Okay?

"O-okay," you finally whisper.

"Yeah?"

Yeah. You think it but don't say it, can't say it. You feel beyond overwhelmed, eyes still glued to where his throbbing tip is smooshed into your belly. You can't stop looking at it, ogling it, awed by its impressiveness and girth, the way it leaks a little onto your skin. You've never seen a dick this pretty before. You almost forget that you're standing there without any clothes on, barely aware of the shutter sound as he snaps multiple pictures on his phone.

"Good girl," he murmurs softly, "That's a good girl, just look at it."

Every few seconds he repositions a little, pulling you in closer to capture the way his cock stands at attention between your bodies. Precum gurgles from the tip and makes a sticky mess in his happy trail, dribbling down onto your skin. Without thinking about it at all, completely unaware of even doing it, your arms are suddenly around his waist, holding him close with your gaze still locked onto his cock.

"Yeah, that's for you, baby," he tells you softly, grinding his hips a little bit against yours and essentially fucking his cock against your stomach, "You did that to me."

It's only when he suddenly takes a small step back, holds the base and angles it downward to gently prod the sticky head against your pussy lips, that you finally come to your senses.

"Wait," you gasp out, yanking yourself back from him and shaking your head, "W-wait a second."

"M'sorry," he says quickly, brow furrowing as he puts his hands up. His cock hangs from his trunks almost comically, bobbing up and down as he takes a step back, "Shoulda asked first."

"Y-yeah, you should've," your voice cracks, heat flooding your face, "I'm sorry, I don't know what came over me just then, that was too far." Why the fuck are you apologizing to him?

"S'not too far," his words are gentle, alluring, "We're just havin' fun, aren't we honey? You were havin' fun, got lost in it. It's okay."

You take a breath, staring at him as you try to get your bearings. Were you having fun? Is this fun? What the fuck are you even doing right now? Your thoughts are cloudy, hazed with arousal and attraction to this complete stranger in front of you. Are you really gonna let this continue? Is it really worth it? Your gaze falls back to his cock and the question is almost answered for you.

"What am I doing?" you ask aloud, a breathless little laugh escaping your lips.

"You're just havin' fun with a new friend, s'all it is."

You raise an eyebrow at him, trying to ignore the way your hands tremble, "Is that what you are? My friend?"

"I'll be anything you want me to be, darlin'," his mouth turns up at the corners, eyes sparkling, "I sure would like to be your friend."

He peers at you for a moment, waiting for you to speak. Your mouth opens a few times but no words come out, your thoughts scrambled as you try to make heads or tails of this situation. You're suddenly painfully aware of the fact that you're still completely naked, and you quickly peek your head over the rock formation to make sure there's nobody nearby - there isn't.

Why are you checking?

"C'mere," Joel finally says, and you turn back to look at him with your lip between your teeth. He's standing there with his arms open a bit, cock still heavy between his legs. By all accounts, a fucking perv. And yet...

And yet.

Fuck it.

You're back in his embrace in no time, hooking your head over his shoulder and allowing his cock to press warmly into your skin again. You close your eyes and sigh as he brings one of his hands downward to squeeze your ass.

You know what he's going to ask before he even says it.

"Can I put it inside you, darlin'?" he murmurs softly, pleadingly, "Just to get a pic of your pussy all full?"

You don't say anything.

"Won't take more than a minute," he urges, "I promise, baby. Just wanna see it stretched around my cock. Don't you wanna see that, pretty girl? I'll pay extra, whatever you want."

More silence.

"I know you wanna see it," he's relentless, his other hand coming down to squeeze your other cheek and pull you impossibly closer, "You wanna feel that, don't you, baby? Big cock fillin' you up before you go?" His middle finger slides between your cheeks and settles at your pussy, slowly teasing your entrance, "Don't gotta do anything at all, just gotta stand here, we'll do it standin' honey."

"Standing?" you ask softly, pulling back to look at him with intrigue, and your response suddenly has him grinning from ear to ear as he slowly inserts his finger. You shiver, eyes fluttering closed as he fills you with it.

"Standin'," he repeats, "Just like this, baby, don't gotta do anything 'cept open your legs a little for me. You can do that, can't you?" The hand on your ass comes up to hold your chin; he pinches it gently between his finger and thumb and gives you another soft look as he starts to fuck you in earnest, "I know you can, 'cause you're a good girl, yeah?"

"Y-yeah," you breathe, arms tightening around his body.

"Yeah," he adds a second finger, smile faltering into a sympathetic pout when you let out another soft moan, "And you want that cock, don't you? I can see it all over your face, honey. Don't gotta pretend."

"I do," you whisper with a nod, swallowing thickly and trembling in his arms, "I want it, I do."

"So..." he's waiting for you to say the words, to tell him to go ahead and put it in, do what he wants, let him take control. His fingers are relentless inside of you now, plunging in and out at a speed you know he's purposely using to distract you, cloud your decision making.

Which is why his eyebrows go up in surprise when you're suddenly reaching down to grab tightly to his wrist, yanking his fingers out of your pussy in one swift pull.

"Three hundred," you state, "Take it or leave it."

To your surprise, his face alights with a gigantic smile, a deep laugh tumbling past his lips as he nods and digs his hand into his pocket, seeking his wallet one more time, "Yes, m'aam," he grins, "I'll take it."

You've never had sex standing up before. Not like this, face to face and completely upright with your feet planted on the ground. It's a little awkward at first, Joel having to crouch a little to align his hips with yours, one hand gripping your waist while the other grips his phone. God, this fucking phone. You're pretty sure you'll never wanna see a phone case with this ugly shade of cerulean blue again, let alone hear those obnoxious shutter sounds.

Your annoyance is quickly overpowered by the sensation of the warm head of Joel's cock pressing gently to your pussy. You look down to watch, lip between your teeth again as Joel snaps image after image of the way his tip crowds your outer lips, pushes them apart. You have to admit, it's certainly a sight to behold.

"Yeah, look at her open for me, baby," he's murmuring, thumbing the base as he slowly rubs his cockhead back and forth through your folds, "Bloomin' like a little flower."

The top of your head rests against his shoulder, face angled down to watch what he's doing. A tiny whimper falls from your lips when he very slowly eases the head of his cock inside of you, the stretch barely noticeable with how wet you are. He releases your hip to reach down and open your pussy lips with his thumb and forefinger, exposing where you're joined.

"Tell her to smile for the camera, babygirl," he whispers, and while part of you wants to roll your eyes, another part can't help but feel a gush of arousal at his words, soaking his cock even more, "Good, that's good."

He feeds his cock to you slowly, making sure to take as many pictures as he can. Little whines and squeaks erupt from your throat and your hands claw at his back, fingers tangling in the white crocheted material as he fills you up. It's only when he's fully sheathed inside of you that he suddenly tugs his trunks down a little more to expose his balls, heavy and round and full. You stare at them with a longing in your eyes you can't describe, lower lip trembling as you watch them bounce and settle against where you're joined.

"There you go," he murmurs, snapping one last picture before tossing his phone into the sand and bringing his hands up to cradle your back, pulling you close, "All done, baby, that's it."

Your toes curl in the sand as you embrace the feeling of being so full of him, his tip pulsing delicately inside the deepest parts of you. A distant thought in your brain wonders why he just threw his phone on the ground, but it doesn't seem to matter when you feel like this, so full and wet and warm, lost in a hazy glow. You bury your face in his shoulder, letting out quiet little whimpers as he pulls you in tighter. He presses a gentle kiss to the top of your head, seemingly reveling in the moment too as you stand there listening to the ocean waves, impaled on a stranger's cock.

"How's that feel, honey?" he asks you softly, thumbs tracing shapes along your bare back, "Hm? Feel good?" You don't answer, just nuzzle your face against his skin and let out another soft whine, hands clamoring underneath his shirt to grip his back. He chuckles, "Yeah, I know, baby."

You both stand there for what feels like forever, until you finally have enough sense to pull away from his shoulder and get a look at his face. He's watching you fondly, brow furrowed, eyes still incredibly soft and inviting. He really is gorgeous. Pervy, but gorgeous.

"You dropped your phone," you mumble, words faint and slightly slurred.

"Don't need it anymore," he murmurs, "Got my pictures."

"Then why are you still inside me?" you ask softly, eyelashes fluttering, "If you're done?"

He shrugs, smiling, "'Cause it feels good, don't it?"

You stare at him for a few seconds but end up nodding regardless, turning your face a little to peer over at the ocean, "It does," you admit, "Feels really good."

"Mmhmm," he kisses the top of your head again, then your temple, stroking his fingers through your hair. The way he touches you is reverent, delicate, like you're something fragile he needs to keep safe. It's not what you'd expected, that's for sure. But something you're not as sure about is what happens now, where you both go from here.

It doesn't take long for him to decide.

You feel his thumb on your clit, drawing your attention away from the ocean and back to his presence. You peer at him through bleary eyes, a dazed little smile curving your lips as he carefully rotates the swollen nub. His belly caresses yours, warm and soft, and you smile even wider.

"Feel good?" he asks you again - tender, kind.

"Yeah," you whisper.

The hand on your back comes up to cradle your hair, pulling you in close again and allowing you to rest your head against his smooth chest. You moan as his thumb picks up speed, the sound muffled by his tan skin.

"You want me to make you come, honey?" he murmurs, fingers brushing carefully through your hair, "You wanna come all over that big cock inside you?"

"Yeah," you repeat, a little broken this time, "W-wanna come."

"You've been so fuckin' good for me, you know that?" he breathes, barely a whisper, brow furrowed as he continues to rub your clit, "Posin' all pretty, showin' me that soft little pussy, lettin' me taste her," he gives a low whistle, shaking his head, "And now she's all full, huh? She full?"

You nod, eyes rolling a little, "Y-yeah." Apparently yeah is currently one of the only words in your vocabulary.

"She all messy for me?"

Again, you nod, expression blissful as you let out a moan, "Yes, Joel," you whimper, and you're pretty sure it's the first time you've said his name this whole time. It's like you've been trying to be disconnected from it, from him, and now suddenly he's everywhere; inside you, in front of you, above you - there's no escaping him. And you don't want to escape - what you want is him. Badly. Desperately.

He seems to realize this at the exact same time you do, the moment he hears his name fall from your lips. Which is why you're not surprised in the slightest by his next words.

"What if I wanted a pic of my cum leakin' outta this little pussy?" he whispers, mouth suddenly directly next to your ear, sending insane amounts of pleasurable tingles throughout your whole body, "Huh? How much would that cost? Tell me."

"You can't," you mumble, lightheaded, but you're lying to yourself, completely lost in the pleasure he's giving you, the movement of his thumb and the girth of his cock.

"Only take a few seconds, honey, m'already close," as he speaks, you feel his hips slowly begin to buck, cock pulling from you for only a moment before easing back in, making you shudder, "You don't gotta do nothin', 'cept show me how she drools when she's full. You can do that, can't you baby?"

"Joel," you whine again, eyes shut tight as you dig your toes into the sand, holding tight to his back as he slowly starts to fuck up into you. He's so big, so thick, plugging you full and then leaving you again, slow and warm. You can only imagine how it would feel to have him burst inside of you, to fill you to the brim.

"I wanna see her drool, honey," he murmurs, voice desperate again, full of arousal, "Wanna see her push it out."

"Fuck," you moan, high and whiney as you suddenly grip both sides of his face in your hands to peer directly into his eyes, "A thousand," you whimper, your hands clawing at his scruff as his hips pick up speed, as his hands fall to your waist and hold tightly as he starts to pound up into you, "A thousand and you can come in my pussy."

He presses his forehead against yours, lets out a guttural sound and then hisses, "Deal."

And for some reason, you believe him.

Getting pounded while standing upright is a fucking trip. His nails dig into the pebbled flesh of your hips, knees bending and unbending as his cock fucks up into you relentlessly without stopping or slowing. Your hands are still holding his face, eyes locked with his as your mouth pops open in a silent scream, thumbs digging into the apples of his cheeks. Holy fucking shit.

"I know, I know, I know," he's groaning, voice wild and unhinged, groans vibrating in his chest, "Fuckin' take it, s'what you were made for, honey. Knew it the second I saw you, knew you were gonna go wild on that dick."

"Please," you moan out, tears pricking in your eyes, the sensations almost too much to bear, "Please, please." You don't even know what you're begging for, thoughts muddled as you release his face and wind your arms around his neck, "Keep fucking me, keep fucking me, don't stop, please."

"I got you, honey, I got you," you feel his thumb return to your clit as he speaks, the sounds of your skin slapping together almost rivalling the sound of the ocean waves, "You gonna come, pretty girl? Huh? You gonna cream on my cock?"

"Yes," you practically squeal, and before you can really process what you're doing you're suddenly jumping up from the sand to wrap your legs around Joel's waist, ankles tangling together behind his back. He has no issue shifting positions, his arm cradling you and holding you in the air while his thumb continues to ravage your clit. You feel it building in your stomach, tightening more and more with the insistent pressure of his thumb and the continuous thrusts of his dick hitting your cervix over and over.

"Ohh, I feel her, baby," he groans in your ear, "Sloppy little cunt wants to make another mess, doesn't she?" And that's all it takes for your orgasm to hit you, your legs squeezing tighter and tighter and tighter around Joel's body as you moan and whine and cry, grabbing fistfuls of his hair and shaking in his arms. It's like having the wind knocked out of you, arguably one of the best orgasms you've ever had in your life, your eyes rolling back into your head as you sob into his neck.

"Joel," you whimper, pussy pulsing repeatedly around his dick through the aftershocks, "Joel, come inside her, please."

"Oh, fuck."

You feel it then, the twitch of his cock and the warm ropes of his release pumping into you. You sigh almost dreamily, burying your face in his shoulder and listening as he groans, feeling the way his fingertips dig into the soft plush of your ass. It's steady - there's so much more than you thought there'd be, and the sensation is enough to make you whimper again, murmuring his name one more time as he empties himself.

You stay like that for a moment, the ocean loud in your ears, all other sounds seemingly drowned out by the hiss of sea against rock and sand. Eventually, he carries you a few steps to your towel, your ears ringing and his body trembling a little as he carefully lowers you down. You let go of him a bit reluctantly, a pout on your lips as he lays you out and then slowly pulls himself from you with a wet squelch.

"Good girl," he's murmuring - you realize he's been saying it the whole time - "Good girl, that's it, open your legs."

There's no hesitance at all anymore, not after that. You open your legs wide with abandon and sit up on your hands, watching with heavy lids as he grabs his phone from where he'd discarded it, bringing it down to your leaking pussy.

"Look at that," he breathes, awestruck, and your eyes trail downward to see what he sees. You feel heat return to your cheeks when you see the way his creamy white release is slowly beginning to dribble out of you and onto the towel.

"Wow, that's a lot," you whisper with a faint little giggle, eyes coming back up to look at his face as he watches it drip. You're not sure he hears you, intensely focused on where you're swollen and leaking, but you don't mind. You push back lazily on your hands and smile fondly at him as he takes his precious photos. In the afterglow, you find that the shutter sounds aren't that annoying, not really.

"Open her up for me, baby," he tells you softly, "Spread her wide and push it out."

You sit up a little, feeling drowsy and dreamy as you reach down and pull yourself open with your hands. You apply a little pressure, closing your eyes in a daze and hearing the wet little sounds as you push his cum out of you and onto the towel. You hear him groan, hear the shutter sounds again, and you can't help but grin.

"Are they good?" you ask him, genuinely wondering, "Is she pretty?" As you speak you pull yourself a little wider, allow him to take one more picture as close inside as possible before he pulls it away.

He looks up from his handiwork with that familiar soft smile on his face again, brown eyes shimmering in the sun that's already beginning to set, "You're perfect," he tells you, "And don't argue with me, I just gave you almost two thousand dollars."

You snort, releasing yourself and falling backwards onto the towel to stare up at the sky. Your limbs feel heavy, eyelids drooping as you watch Joel in your periphery slipping his soft cock back into his trunks, as well as his phone.

"It's real money, right?" you ask, a little unsure.

"I promise it's real money," he says with a chuckle, walking over to stand over you, "D'you wanna come back to my hotel with me and get cleaned up? Maybe have some more fun?"

You bite your lip, "Would you pay me?"

"I'd pay you."

Admittedly, as reality begins to wash over you, the idea doesn't sound anywhere near as appealing as it might have an hour ago. With a little effort, you sit up again and reach for your bikini, half buried in the sand near your feet.

"Nah, I think I'm good."

Joel reaches his arm down and you take it, letting him help you to your feet. As you put your bikini back on, you watch with a little smile as he digs the rest of your money out of his wallet, slipping it into your purse like it's just second nature at this point - which, it basically is. He stands there then, a little awkwardly, like he's not sure what to say.

"Well, uh, thank you, darlin'," he finally says, taking a step back and nodding toward you with a kind expression, "Not many girls would have, um... not many would've done this. I'd offer you my number, but I get the feeling that's not what this is."

You wince, shaking your head, "Yeah, this, uh- this isn't gonna go anywhere, sorry. But it was fun."

He nods, "It was. And, I mean, those pictures aren't just gonna collect dust, I can tell you that much."

You laugh, walking forward a little to pick up your bag. You stop in front of him and, after hesitating for only a moment, lean forward to press a soft kiss to his lips. Just a peck - a goodbye.

"Have a good rest of your summer," you tell him as you pull away, heat rising in your cheeks again as he looks at you with those beautiful eyes, "And uh- maybe try to be a little more covert with that camera."

This time it's his turn to blush, his cheeks tinging a dark shade of pink as he laughs and tosses you a wave, turning to begin walking away from you. He only makes it a few steps, and then-

"Hey, Joel?"

He turns on the spot, a hopeful look in his expression that makes you wonder, if only for a moment, that maybe you're making the wrong choice.

"You're not really a photographer, are you?"

His blush deepens, a look of embarrassment crossing his features, "No, I'm not. But after today, I just might try my hand at it."

[naileadevoras]

the urge to fuck him when he starts rambling about nerdy shit i don't understand

[hiddenhills0]

I L L I C I T ☆ A F F A I R S !

in which your boyfriend cheats on you and you take revenge in the most deliciously sick way possible <3

pairings! older simon ‘ghost’ riley x younger chubby fem reader

summary! when your boyfriend’s gambling habit and the occasional stripper donations cause you to lose your shared apartment, you move in with his father who you try to keep in the dark about his son to protect his image. but when you find solid evidence of his infidelity, you take your frustrations out on the older man who promises he’ll take care of you better than his son has. his proof? who did you think was between your legs the last few weeks?

warnings! 18+ MDNI. smut. filthy fucking smut. age gap (simon is 56, reader is 27) p in v, unprotected (wrap it up!) dubcon/con oral (f receiving), somnophilia, fingering, simon is absolutely obsessed with your tits, rough, degrading, humiliation, praise, dumbification (if you squint), choking, pussy slapping, squirting, impact play, cheating, daddy kink, mutual masturbation, creampie, cum play, oral (m receiving), hard yet soft dom simon, barely proofread :,)

author’s note! my last post was so sweet and i just have to follow it up with something fucking filthy <3

word count! it was 6:34 am when i started this and i did not count. my deepest apologies ☹️

“you’re a fucking idiot.”

“you’ve said that so many times. i’m sorry! my god.” your boyfriend mumbled as he grips the steering wheel tighter when the GPS announces that you’re five minutes away from your destination, his father’s house.

your boyfriend was, well, an idiot. when you first met, he was kind, caring, and loving. he went above and beyond (above and beyond being the bare fucking minimum) getting you flowers(once), taking you out on dates(once), and just being an overall sweetheart. you’d spend your afternoons and nights at his father’s house whenever he was deployed laid up on the couch with your head on his chest and his hands on the small of your back. his arms were once a comfort, a warmth a blanket couldn’t bring. you found yourself having trouble sleeping without him and he loved it. he wanted nothing more than to spend his nights with you.

well, at least he didn’t before he started going to strip clubs after work.

you’d find yourself alone in your now shared apartment, unable to sleep while he was having the time of his life, his hands that were once wrapped around you now wrapped around the waist of the woman giving him a lap dance. you couldn’t understand the switch. had he been that way all along and were you just too dumb to see it? or did something else happen? either way, he wasn’t shy about this habit and would tell you that as long as he wasn’t having sex with these women, it was okay. it’s not like it was cheating, right?

he’d blown so much money, resulting in late bills he just ‘forgot’ to tell you about and after a night in vegas with his work friends, your apartment manager called and advised you both to pack your things immediately, leading you to the position you were in now.

you were embarrassed. beyond that. you’d never lost an apartment before and prided yourself in the hard work you’d taken to get your apartment along with the grueling hours you worked to keep yourself financially stable. you were a new nurse and though you were good at your job, exceptional as your peers would say, it didn’t help the fact that your eight hour shifts would often turn into you working doubles and the fact that you were coming home to an empty bed didn’t help. your boyfriend had completely disregarded all the effort you put into to having everything you had and he didn’t care at all. his apologies sounded as empty as your stomach because not only was he never home, he relied on you to cook.

just another fucking thing you’d have to do.

when you arrived at his father’s house, you grabbed two out of the four suitcases you’d packed and walked towards the front door, knocking gently before being met with his father, simon riley.

you’d met simon a multitude of times before and you liked him. he was kind to you and thought you were what his son needed to settle down. you were a good woman and he often told you that you would’ve been exactly his type when he was younger and that the apple didn’t fall far from the tree. he was an attractive, older, military man with muscles a fifty-six year old shouldn’t have had. the scars that lined his arms, neck, and biceps only added character and you’d find yourself listening to every story behind them, sometimes taking care of him when stitches would come loose or scabs would re-open.

“i’m so sorry, mr. riley. obviously this isn’t ideal and—“

“the day i begin to mind your company will be a cold day in hell.” he steps aside to let you in, patting your shoulder and sending a surge of shivers down your spine. you drag your suitcase to the guest room and begin to pack your clothes into the empty closet and dresser, not uttering a word to your boyfriend who you can feel is staring at you. you don’t even want to look at him.

“babe—“

“shut up.” you grumble in response. “you’re lucky i still respect you enough to not tell your father that this was your fault.”

“thank you for that.” he speaks in a whisper, rubbing the back of his neck as he digs his heels into the wooden floors. “what, uh, what do you want for dinner?”

“don’t act like you’re going to cook.” scoffing, you dismiss him and spend about an hour or two putting everywhere where it needs to be. your scrubs hung up in the closet along with your more outside-wear, and your house clothes in the drawers along with socks, undergarments, and other items. you can hear him and his father talking and as much as you’d love to talk to his father, you don’t want to face your boyfriend, so you curl up on your bed with your phone and answer a few messages from family before ultimately falling asleep.

by the time you wake, it’s dark outside and it has been about three hours since you first arrived. yawning, you stand up, take a shower, and brush your teeth. as you stand there in your towel, you look at your drawers. you didn’t care much for modesty when you lived alone, resulting in most of your clothes being either too short or too tight. you were a chubbier woman, but that never stopped you from dressing the way you wanted, especially at home, but now that you were in someone else’s, you wanted to be respectful, so you settled on a knitted white sweater that was a bit baggier than normal with black sleeping shorts that did little to hide your plush thighs.

when you emerged, you only found simon on the couch and fought the urge to let out a groan because you knew exactly where your boyfriend was, but instead, you smiled. “good evening, mr. riley.”

simon wanted to slap you.

you were so formal, so respectful, so put together.

he hated it.

you’d been in his life for about a year now and he wanted nothing more than for you to be more than a little informal with him, for more reasons than one.

the main one being that it made him feel like you were uncomfortable with him and he didn’t understand why. he tried his absolute best to make you feel safe in his presence and his home and sure, he was an intimidating man, but to everyone but you. hell, he rarely smiled at his own son. but you? he couldn’t stop smiling when he was talking to you. you were just the ray of sunshine that he’d needed. your kindness was infectious and he hated that his idiot of a son was the one receiving said kindness.

the other reason being that the man was filthy and would give anything to get between your legs.

on top of being kind, a successful nurse, and an overall good person who deserved way more than his son, you were gorgeous. beyond it. he adored the way that you weren’t as thin as his son’s exes, despite his son’s constant complaints of your weight to him. see, his son wouldn’t know a good thing if it sat on his face. but simon? he wouldn’t take any inch of you for granted. he’d kiss every inch of your body, he’d grab every bit of extra fat, suck on those heavy tits of yours he had to literally fight himself to not stare at. god, he loved your tits. he knew you were not a fan of more modest clothing and he loved whenever you’d wear something a little too low cut for your own good so he’d have an excuse to stare at the stretch marks that led an absolutely tantalizing trail to your cleavage. he knew he was gross for said thoughts, absolutely filthy, but he didn’t care. he couldn’t. he first thought it was just because you were younger than him and it was a plain attraction, but after he’d began to moan out your name while not only jerking off but while having sex with other women, he knew he’d been getting too deep. most men would distance themselves from the object of their obsession, but simon didn’t care. he wanted to be closer to you and so when his son told him about your situation, he was more than happy to take you in. he truly couldn’t have cared less for his idiot of a son, but what he did care for, was you.

“can i ask you a question, sweet girl?” he hummed as he attached his lips to the can of beer in his hand. it wasn’t odd for simon to call you pet names and honestly, you liked them. in your head, it just solidified the fact that he approved of you.

“always.” you give him your full attention, turning your body towards him and folding your hands in front of you. you notice the way he grimaces at your stance, which makes you blush in his harsh gaze.

“why so formal with me, love? been around me for almost a year and you’re so respectful.” setting the can down, he stands with his hands on his hips, towering over you.

“cause you’re my boyfriend’s dad.” you shrug. “i want to show you respect because im in your home.”

“that’s great and all, but seriously, let loose, love. i like you and i don’t want you to feel uncomfortable around me.” his tone is genuine, as if this is something that truly bothers him.

“i’m never uncomfortable around you.” the thought of yourself being uncomfortable around simon is absolutely outrageous to you. if anything, you’re more than comfortable with him. he shows you a kindness your own boyfriend couldn’t show to you and you find it absolutely adorable. “i’m the complete opposite. i enjoy being around you.”

“really?” he seems shocked, so you laugh and step towards him, placing a hand on his forearm. “yes, simon. i like that you have more life experience and you’ve made me feel so accepted. of course im comfortable around you.”

you’re unaware of it, but the hand you place on him drives him insane. the surge of blood that rushes to his dick makes it hard for him to keep his composure as he smiles and you step back.

“while we’re talking, i do wanna apologize again for my intrusion. it’s completely my fault that we’re in this situation and i’m sorry.” you’re lying through your teeth, but you don’t want to ruin your boyfriend’s relationship with his father.

but simon isn’t stupid.

you’re the most hardworking nurse he had ever seen. he was aware of the long hours you’d work to make sure you had enough for bills, food, and luxuries, so the entire story that this was “all your fault” was bullshit he knew better than to fall for, but before he could call you out on this lie, you’d moved to the kitchen.

“any dinner preferences?” you ask from behind the counter as he shakes his head.

“you drove an hour to get here. relax, sweetheart. i’ll whip somethin’ up.”

you’re.. surprised. despite this man being older with so much wear and tear on his body, he doesn’t mind standing in front of a hot stove for you. he takes into account the drive and moves into the kitchen, opening the fridge and pulling out some ingredients while you stand there slightly confused. “thanks.” is all you say as you sit on the couch and watch him intently. the way his large, veiny hands cut into the chicken breast he’s making to go into the alfredo, the way he moves about the kitchen without a grimace as if he’s truly enjoying cooking for you.

the whole thing is just attractive to you. you were being taken care of as opposed to being the person taking care of someone else and it was nice to just lay back every once and awhile and remember what it feels like to relax. and of course, the man himself was attractive and you were more than attracted to him, but he was your boyfriend’s dad, which was the only thing stopping you from jumping his bones then and there. not his age, not the fact that he’s more experienced, but simply because you could never do that to your boyfriend.

“how’s work, honey?” he hums from the kitchen. “i have some stitches that are coming loose. think you could patch ‘em up for me?”

“always, and work is fine. i’m working a double tomorrow, so, you know how that goes.” shrugging, you walk over to him. “where’s your stitches?”

he pulls up his shirt, revealing his scarred yet toned abdomen you want to drag your tongue across. you fight the urge to stare and look at the messy stitches he’d gotten done on the field and click your tongue. “shouldn’t take too long to fix.” you lead him to the couch before grabbing your supplies and sitting on your knees between his leg. the stitches are lower on his abdomen, so the position was better for the both of you.

but simon being the filthy man he was could only imagine you doing literally anything else between his legs other than stitching him up. by the time you’re done, he was far off into his own head and hadn’t even realized you started until you pulled away. “you’re good to go.” standing up, you dust yourself off. “call me when dinner’s ready, yeah?”

simon’s tongue darts out to moisten his lips, unaware of just how very his mouth had gotten. “yeah.”

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

after eating, you stayed awake for hours, the hope that your boyfriend would soon return fading away, along with sleep. despite everything, you still couldn’t sleep without him so when you did for an hour, you were more than grateful. you stirred gently at this odd sensation between your legs and when you woke, you were too exhausted to scold who you thought was your boyfriend between your legs.

“it’s, like, three in the morning. what are you—“

before you can finish your sentence, you feel something wet press against your bare cunt and before you can ask yourself when he’d gotten home, when he’d shed you of your pants and panties, and got between your legs, he begins to kitten lick your clit, eliciting a low moan from you.

yet, as good as it feels, you can’t help but feel like something’s.. off. not only does your boyfriend despise eating you out, but he seems more.. skilled. more experienced. maybe if you weren’t so tired, you would’ve noticed the difference in just how smooth and messy the hair you were grabbing at was. your boyfriend was obsessed with the way he looked and he hated when you’d pull at his hair when he begrudgingly ate you out, but he seemed to be leaning into it, one of the hands that he was using to keep your thighs apart moving to wrap his fingers around your wrist, almost as if silently telling you to pull harder.

“god, you’re never this good.” you breathe out as you shut your eyes, your small fingers gripping his hair tighter. “if this is your way of apologizing for losing the apartment, you have a long way to go.”

so it wasn’t your fault.

as if he didn’t already know that.

suddenly, he eats you with more fervor, pulling his hand away from your wrist to push to fingers into your cunt. you know something is off but you don’t care. you can’t care. he’s slurping and sucking at your cunt as if he hasn’t had a meal in ages and you love it. your sex life had been nonexistent and you’d faked every last one of your orgasms so this was something you’d allow yourself enjoy.

simon knows he’s gross, knows that he shouldn’t be doing this, but the taste of your cunt is absolutely addicting. the way you’re writhing beneath him, moaning out for him, even if you don’t know it, is driving him absolutely insane. he doesn’t dare talk because he knows his voice is deeper than his son’s and will give him away, instead he speaks with his tongue as it circles your clit before he takes his freehand, using his forearm to keep your thigh down as he pulls back the hood and sucks on it directly, causing you to squeal and try to run from the pleasure, but all he does is fuck his fingers into that special spot inside of you that makes you see stars. the way you moan is all he needs to confirm the fact that his son isn’t taking care of your pretty cunt the way it needs to be taken care of.

you’re a mess, your cunt wetter than it had been in ages as you throw your head back and your back arches. “‘s too much!” you call out, your body not really knowing how to respond to such pleasure. “stop, stop, stop, your dad—“

but he doesn’t stop. his fingers get faster and he flicks at your exposed clit with his tongue.

“‘m being too loud—slow down!”

but he doesn’t.

he won’t.

and you find yourself having to cover your mouth as you let out a shrill scream, your thighs convulsing as your hips buck into his mouth. you’re cumming and you’re cumming hard. your vision is not only blurred from your exhaustion, but the pure ecstasy he’s causing you. when you come down from your high, you notice the way his hips begin to stall before he grows sloppy in trying to clean you up, retracting his fingers to grab at your thighs harshly.

you can immediately tell he’s cum in his pants and though it’s new, you find it attractive. he’s never gotten so much pleasure off pleasuring you and you relish in it for a few seconds before you fall asleep once again.

when you wake to find an empty bed, you can’t find it in yourself to be as mad as you’d normally be. not with the way he’d eaten your cunt the night before. it’s seven in the morning and you’re preparing for work only to stop after sliding on your soft pink scrubs when you hear humming from the kitchen along with the smell of food.

you leave the guest room only to find simon at the stove, flipping bacon and whisking eggs. “good morning, my dear.”

“you’re in a good mood, and up early, something good happen?” smiling, you walk towards the island and sit down on the bar stool. simon’s happiness is contagious and you can’t help but smile as he smiles back at you. “just feeling sweet.” he grins as he hands you a plate with eggs, bacon, and pancakes on it.

“well thank you.” he hands you a fork and you waste no time as you begin eating. you never really have time to cook on days you work so you often go hungry, but the gesture is kind and you know it’ll help you get through the day. simon opens the fridge to pull out a strawberry milkshake. “my son bought you this.”

“but—“

“but he forgot you’re allergic to strawberries, so,” simon throws away the milkshake and hands you a piña colada smoothie. “i got you this.”

yet another kind gesture that shouldn’t make your cunt pulse. though you can’t have strawberries, you adore pineapple. it’s your favorite fruit and the fact that your boyfriend doesn’t remember but his father does shows you that he cares. “thanks, simon.” smiling, you wrap your lips around the straw and hum. “when did he get home?”

“around two in the morning. got up to use the bathroom and he scared the shit out of me.” simon’s lying but he knows better than to create a timeline that doesn’t align with what had happened. “left an hour ago.”

you fight the overwhelming need to roll your eyes and nod gently. when you finish eating, simon, of course, pulls out a soft pink lunchbox filled to the brim with different snacks, baked goods, and savory foods. “told me you didn’t really eat at work and i want you to be at your best.”

“simon, really, this is so nice. i can’t—“

he clicks his tongue. “aht-aht. you will. you’re working a double and god knows if you faint at work because you’re hungry i’ll have to stuff you full.” (of cock.)

“thank you.” taking the lunchbox, you put on your shoes and grab your purse. “have a good day, simon.”

“you too, baby.”

the second you leave, simon’s in the guest room rummaging through your panty and bra drawer, cock in hand as he imagines the way each pair looks on you. some are lacy, some are plain, but he doesn’t care. the one he finds himself most drawn to are a pair of plain pink ones with white hearts on them. they’re just so.. you. so adorable, so soft, and so unexplainably attractive. he knows that you have no idea that it was him between your legs and he knows that he should feel bad, but he can’t. you tasted so fucking good. the sweetest thing he’s ever had and he can’t help but want and need more. almost all of him is confused. his son had something so special, so beautiful, so deliciously sweet, and he was taking it for granted for women who wouldn’t give him the time of day if they weren’t being paid for it. he just couldn’t understand why he was so okay with not being with you all the time. hell, simon was sure he missed you when you were at work more than his own damn son did.

the thought of being between your legs again, the thought of the way you tasted making him cum in his pants was all too much and he spilled into the pink panties he was holding, letting out the loudest of moans as he laid back on your spot on the bed, the thought of you having previously laid there enough to get him hard again as he looked at your now cum-filled panties and had no shame in taking them back to his room, along with a few others.

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

when you return at around nine thirty that night, you’re more energized than usual. the food simon packed for you seemed to have done the trick because you were smiling all throughout the day. you didn’t need to sit multiple times to keep yourself from passing out, you didn’t need to hope the water in your 40 oz tumblr was enough to get you through the day and you were eternally grateful. “simon!” you call out, wanting to greet the man and thank him, only to be met with the sight of your boyfriend.

“calling for my dad and not me? should i be hurt?” he jokes and you can’t help but feel irritated at the mere sight of him.

“is he here?” you look around him and try to walk away, but he grabs your hips. “hold on.” he chuckles. “why do you care so much? i haven’t seen you since i left this morning. wanna spend some time with you.”

you groan internally. “i just got home from work and i need to shower. can you tell him i said—“ he doesn’t even let you finish your sentence as you groans and moves to kiss at your neck.

“but i need you.” he pouts. “my dad isn’t home and you can be as loud as you want.”

the loud in question being your fake screaming when you faked an orgasm.

“please?” he begs and you groan but allow him to take what he needs, the small glimmer of hope that he’ll eat you out as expertly as he did the night before fading away when he gets between your legs and starts bitching and moaning not even five minutes in and you’re faking a moan to make him stop. when he puts you into your hands and knees and fucks into you from behind, you’re beyond grateful that he’s too focused on himself to notice your bored expression in the mirror. when he finishes, you don’t even fake an orgasm as you pull away and shower to wash his cum off of your back and ass. you hate sex with him for so many reasons, the main one being that he was entirely too focused on his pleasure and the other one being that he was so vanilla. you wanted to be choked, spanked, to have bruises lining your body and despite you mentioning this to him and saying it was the perfect way to make sex more interesting, he didn’t care.

you’re not surprised when you find him gone after you shower, having already grown used to this cycle and you can’t find it in yourself to care anymore.

you walk into the kitchen with your towel wrapped around you, opening the fridge to see a box of cut up pineapples and smiling because you know simon got it for you. you set it on the counter and grab a fork, zoning off into space as you eat. the house is quiet and you’re soaking it in.

but in your day dreaming, you failed to hear the car pulling into the driveway so when the front door opens to reveal simon, you screech and run into the guest room after yelling out jumbled and fast apologies. shutting the door, you flop onto the bed and whine in utter embarrassment, your entire body hot and your face flushed. sure, you had a towel on, but still. it didn’t make it any less embarrassing. “oh my god, oh my god, oh my god.” you whisper, shoving your face into the mattress.

simon, on the other hand, immediately walks to his room and grabs one of those bras he’d stolen earlier that morning and has to bite down on his shirt to keep himself from moaning as he pumps his cock. while you’re embarrassed you were caught in your towel, he was wishing you’d dropped it.

he came incredibly fast and cleaned himself up before knocking on your door, hearing the way you groaned and whined on the other side.

“‘s just me, love.” he chuckles.

“i’m sorry!” you call out.

“i’ve seen a lot more than just girls in towels. you’re all good, sweet girl.” he reassures. “nothin’ to be embarrassed about.”

there’s silence before you open the door, your eyes looking up at him with your face still flushed. he takes notice of the low cut white shirt you’re wearing and doesn’t even hide the way he’s looking right at your tits.

“really?” you speak, causing his eyes to meet yours as he snickers. “yeah. c’mere.” he pulls you into his arms, his biceps flexing around you as he places his head atop yours, noticing the way you bury your head in his chest and let out the softest of laughs. “i’m still sorry.”

“if you apologize again, i swear to god.” pulling away, he ruffles your hair and smiles. “what are feeling like for dinner?”

“it’s fine, i’ll cook—“

“no, what you’re going to do is sit your ass down and relax.”

his assertiveness just screams dominance and you can’t help but imagine what he’s like in bed. does that dominance shine through? what does he like? does he like bigger girls? is he more skilled than his son?

you snap yourself out of your thoughts and nod as he walks into the kitchen as you sit on the couch, turning on the tv and watching some random romcom.

“got a question for you, angel.” he hums from the kitchen.

“what’s up?” you turn to him.

“my son, is he, uh..” he trails off before deciding to just be blunt. “is he being faithful to you?”

the question piques your interest. sure, you knew your boyfriend had a habit of spending money at strip clubs, but you’d never really thought that he was being unfaithful. you think about the late nights you’d be up waiting to him, the nights he’d come home with merlot on his mouth, the nights he’d have scratch marks down his back and something in your head clicks. you turn to simon and shake your head, lying once again. “i think he is.”

simon knows you’re lying, but he doesn’t question you. he instead continues cooking. why? because he knew his son was being unfaithful. the idiot had accidentally sent him a sex tape once. and simon would’ve appreciated the misclick if it was you he was fucking in the video, but it wasn’t. instead, it was some thin brunette woman he had no interest in seeing and that his son shouldn’t have been sleeping with. of course, his son had unsent it before simon could even think of saving it and sending it to you, meaning he had no proof of the infidelity. having to sit back and watch you so happy with a man who didn’t treat you like the goddess you were when he could’ve treated you so much better, when he did treat you so much better.

after eating one night, you do some snooping in the guest room only to find nothing. you just know that he’s cheating on you but there’s nothing to prove it.

at least, not until you get a text the next morning at work.

samantha <3

‘hey girlie’

i met this guy at a bar last night and i think he’s your boyfriend. i’m so so sorry. i had no idea he had a girlfriend until he gave me his instagram and i saw that you’d tagged him in a bunch of posts. he recorded a sex tape and i just feel so gross for sleeping with such a dick. you’re so so beautiful and i’m so sorry for my part in his cheating.

samantha was more than happy to send you said sex tape and wished you luck on confronting him.

at first, you were sick. you threw up everything simon had made you for breakfast that morning and found yourself completely void of emotion during work. but as time passed, you grew angry. angry that he had the audacity to lay with you after fucking someone else, angry that he’d probably been doing this for months with other women, angry that you were so clueless.

you didn’t want to cry, you didn’t want to confront him.

you wanted to get him back.

you wanted to make him fucking hurt.

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

when you returned home from work, you sneered at his absence in the house and knocked on simon’s door, not bothering to change out of your scrubs as he opened his bedroom door and you pushed into his room. “forgive my language, but your son is a fucking dick.” you start as simon sits at his desk and watches as you pace angrily. “this girl messaged me at work and sends me the fucking sex tape he made of them. he’s probably been doing this forever and i’m not even sad, simon! well—i am. i don’t understand how someone as sweet and as kind as you could raise such a disrespectful man—but i don’t want to cry. i don’t even feel hurt. i want to get him back.”

simon stared at you and nods, trying to bite back a grin. “so get him back, baby.”

you’re rambling stops as you hear his words. you turn to him and raise an eyebrow. “so you’re not the slightest bit mad at me for calling him a dick? you’re not going to defend him in any way you can?”

“considering it was his fault that you’re both staying here and the fact that despite my teachings, he hasn’t learned to appreciate a good woman, i say you get him back. hit him where it hurts.”

“wait—you’ve know it was his fault?” you ask.

“you’re not the type to be evicted, my dear. with how hard you work, you’d only leave if you wanted to. not because you had to.” he shrugs.

he knows you so well it almost makes you want to suck his dick, but you know that it’s just your revenge fueled anger talking, so you hug him and thank him for his understanding as you go to take a shower. while you sit under the warm water, you think of all the friends he have that would give anything be between your legs, but you decide not to. if you’re going to have revenge sex, it’s going to be the best you’ve ever fucking had.

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

the next few weeks, you’re trying to come up with the most painful way to hurt your soon to be ex boyfriend while also trying to stop the incredibly vivid wet dreams you’ve been having about simon. it’s hard to think about the perfect revenge when you wake up with a swollen, wet, and achy cunt because you’re dreaming about the older man once again. at first, it was just at night. then it started happening when you took naps. hell, you’d fallen asleep in the car with simon because he was driving you home from work and you’d had a dream right next to him. it was as if your cunt was calling out for him.

and then it clicked.

you had off work that night, simon had gone out, and only the lord knew where your boyfriend was and who he was inside. you took an hour long shower, taking time to shave your arms, legs, and cunt. you washed your hair, used the expensive body scrubs you only used when you were anticipating sex, and applied your most expensive body wash. even after getting out of the shower, you took time doing your skincare, rubbing a sweet scented lotion into your body and putting on your best set, which was a lace blue bra with a matching lace thong. you purposefully wore a low cut shirt that did little to hide the tits you know simon had trouble not looking at and the shorts you were didn’t help either. you made dinner and waited patiently for the older man who returned just as you finished pouring out a glass of wine.

“what’s all this?” was his first question as he stepped into the house and shut the door.

“well, i figured out how im going to get him back. wanted to tell you over dinner and wine.” you shrug.

simon can smell the perfume you’re wearing and it almost drives him feral as he shuts the door and smiles before sitting down. “well thank you for cooking, love, but you really didn’t have to.”

“i know, but you’ve done it for me the entire month i’ve been here. wanted to repay the favor.” sitting down, you and simon talk about his job, your job, and a few other things that you normally talk about before you finish eating and he lets out a sigh. “so, what’s this plan of yours?” he almost seems to eager to know what you’re planning on doing, and he is.

instead of actually answering you sigh. “simon, you have been so kind to me the entire time i’ve been here. work has been so much better ever since you started packing me lunches and you pay attention to the things your son doesn’t. you remember my strawberry allergy, how much i like pineapples, what songs i like so you can play them in the car, cook for me. i just want to thank you—“

“scarin’ me, love. sounds like you’re leaving.” he mumbles, his smile slowly dropping. “are you?”

“no, simon. i’m not.” you stand up and walk over to him before boldly sitting in his lap, wrapping your arms around his neck. “quite the opposite, actually.”

simon short circuits. he wants to grab you, to buck his hips into yours so you can feel how hard he’s gotten in a mere four seconds and the feel of you on top of him. but he doesn’t. his mind goes blank and all he can do is look up at you. you push your chest towards him and that’s all it takes to snap him back to reality as he reaches up to grab your tits before snapping his hand away. “i’m sorry—“

you don’t let him mumble out the apologies you know he’s going to give before you lean down to kiss him, tasting the wine he’d just drank on his lips and when you feel how quickly he grabs you, his hands groping at your tits as he pushes you back against the table, you know he gets the idea. he doesn’t dare part from you, letting every sick urge he’s been holding back out as he moves one of his hands to push both of your glasses and plates off the table, not caring for the way they shatter against the floor as he hoists you up onto the wooden table, eliciting a gasp from you.

“simon, the dishes.”

“i could not give less of a fuck.” is all he replies with as he literally tears your shirt in two and doesn’t bother to take off your bra properly. instead, he pulls your tits out and sucks on them as if he’s needed them, as if he’s been yearning for them. a part of you wonders why he’s so willing to have sex with you, and so you voice that thought. “you’re so okay with this.”

“because i’m a gross old man who has wanted nothing more than to fuck his son’s girlfriend ever since he first saw her.” he’s not ashamed or embarrassed as he voices this. “called out your name so many times when i fucked other women, jerked off so many times when you were in the room right down the hall, and i don’t care.”

the revelation doesn’t gross you out. all it does is make your cunt throb in anticipation as you lay your head back on the table and relish in the feeling of his tongue swirling around your nipples. you want to hear more about it and he’s more than happy to tell you.

“been eating you every fucking night because god knows he’s not. at least, not the way you need to be.”

you jolt up, looking down at him and noticing the way his pupils dilate as he looks back up at you. “wait—wait, you’ve been eating me out while i sleep?”

“yeah. sucked hearing you call out his name because you didn’t know it was me, though.”

you’re not mad. not in the slightest. your pussy is soaking and he can tell by the way you’re staring down at him and that you’re not bothered, so he continues. “those ‘dreams’ you’ve been having? not dreams, my angel, just be sucking on your pretty clit while you sleep. and that time in the car? had my fingers deep in your cunt and you didn’t know a thing.”

when you don’t speak and for a second, simon pouts. “mad at me, love?”

“no, i’m turned on. touch me.”

and simon’s more than happy to oblige. he moves to suck your left nipple as he rips off your shorts, but savors your panties, before plunging his fingers into you with a deep chuckle. “so wet f’me. you ever get this wet for him?”

“never.” you confirm and all it does is make him smile. his fingers are thicker and longer than not only your own, but your boyfriend’s, filling you in an almost familiar way as you recall the ‘dreams’ you’d had of him. you lay back and shut your eyes, but simon can’t have that. he wants you to see him. wants you to see who’s making you feel a way his son can’t.

and sure, he could just gently tell you to open your eyes. but where’s the fun in that? instead, he slaps you, grabbing your jaw. “eyes open.”

it hurts, but you relish in it, opening your eyes and giving him a dazed smile. the impact is something you’ve always wanted and when you give him a gentle nod to tell him you’re okay with it, he nods back. his free hand is grabbing at the tit he’s not sucking while his other hand is deep in your cunt. when you let out a moan, he slaps you once more. “wanna hear her.” the her being your cunt that is making the filthiest noises. the squelching and wet sounds coming from you are almost pornographic and the fact that it’s not his son, but him making you feel good is a pleasure simon’s certain no one else will ever give him.

“she’s so precious, isn’t she, love?” he hums out. “and these, god, these are perfect.” he moans into your chest. when you begin to reach your climax and try to pull away from the pleasure, he pulls his fingers out of you to slap your cunt, loving the way your body jolts in response before sliding his fingers back in.

when you reach your climax, your back arches and you push your hips into his fingers, filling you in a way that’s absolutely perfect as you squeal and your hand claws at his forearm that’s still grabbing at your tits. when you come down from your high, he doesn’t pull away to stop. he instead sucks on his fingers before getting on his knees and pulling your thighs apart, eating you the same way he had been for the past month. usually, he starts slow, but he doesn’t care enough for that right now. he pulls the hood of your clit back the same way he had been and you’re not sure why, but the fact that you now know it’s him and always has been makes it all the more intense.

“tell me what he doesn’t do to you.” he rasps out as you tangle your fingers into his hair, struggling to keep your thighs open.

“doesn’t—nghh—doesn’t listen to me. told him to choke me and he wouldn’t. wouldn’t finger me, eat me out, couldn’t fuck me right.” your words are rushed and you can’t focus on what you’re saying, but simon understands you perfectly as he slurps up your arousal.

“what else, baby?”

“didn’t wanna spank me, didn’t listen to my kinks.”

“what kinda kinks, baby?” simon’s intrigued. he’s thought about what you like time and time again and he’s eager to hear more.

“like having my hair pulled, being told what to do—“ you stop to let out a moan but when he slaps your thigh, you continue. “that. i like that too.”

“yeah, angel? like when i slap you like that?” he hums and repeats the action, making you moan and nod.

“gonna make you feel so good you’ll forget how bad he made you feel.”

and that’s a promise.

when you cum, he has no trouble picking you up and taking you to his bedroom, throwing you on the bed and pulling off his shirt before he sits at his desk and pulls off his sweats to reveal not only how hard his cock is, but how big it is. it’s not only bigger than your boyfriend’s, but anyone you’ve ever had and when you reach touch it, he slaps his hand away. “aht-aht. wanna watch you play with her. make her feel good, baby.”

the request surprises you. it’s something you’ve never done or thought of doing and you feel almost embarrassed. “simon—“

“wasn’t a question.”

you push aside your embarrassment, the need to get rid of the aching feeling in your cunt due to his assertiveness overwhelming you. laying back on his pillow, you spread your legs and bring your fingers to your clit, feeling just how wet he had made you for yourself.

“play with her the way you do when you think of me.”

you recall one night you’d buried your fingers into your cunt while images of simon played in your head, so you repeat those same actions, pushing your fingers into your heat easily as you bring your other hand to wrap your fingers around your throat, applying just enough pressure to make you lightheaded as you call out his name. your fingers weren’t enough, they never were, but you still tried, applying more pressure to your neck and hoping that would add to the intensity.

simon knows that your fingers aren’t doing what he could, but he’s enjoying watching the way you plunge your fingers as deep as they can go while your other hand is wrapped around your neck. and sure, he knows he should be looking at your cunt but your tits look so pretty. the way they jiggled when you’d push your fingers in was absolutely tantalizing and he swore he was going to cum right then and there.

“daddy—“ you choked out, making the both of you stop. “simon—i meant simon.” you correct yourself immediately, reacting your fingers and shaking your head as you stare at simon who’s just staring back at you with an unreadable expression. “fuck, i’m sorry.”

when he stands, you prepare yourself for the worst but instead, he slaps you and grabs your jaw before connecting your lips in a manner that’s nothing but rough. he doesn’t pull away until you push him away for air. he slaps you once more and only grins. “didn’t know you wanted to get fucked by daddy that bad.” is all he rasps before he pulls you over his knee and slaps your ass so hard you know it’s going to leave a mark.

“so you’re not mad?” you drape your head in embarrassment and instead of answering, he spanks you once more. “gonna slap you for every month you’ve been with my idiot of a son and then i’m going to fuck you until you can’t think.”

you didn’t know that thirteen simple slaps could hurt so bad but feel so good. your cunt is pulsing and you can feel your arousal dripping down your slit and thighs and though you’re sobbing by the end of it, you’re not in pain. all of you feels nothing but pleasure from the way he gives you one extra slap before turning you over to cradle you, his fingers teasing your clit. “tell me what you want daddy to do to you.”

you’re an incoherent mess and when you take too long to compose yourself, he slaps your cunt, forcing a rushed response out of you. “want you to fuck me! please!”

“yeah? want me to fuck you like a whore?” he mocks as he looks at your teary expression. “you’re so sweet all the time, does he know how fucking filthy you are?”

you shake your head. “no, no. he—he never wanted to do stuff like this. always wanted to be gentle.”

he clicks his tongue and shakes his head. “now that’s no way to treat a slut. can’t be sweet and gentle with them.” he flips you onto your hands and knees his hand holding both your wrists behind your back as he pushes your head into the mattress. “can’t be nice to them.” he aligns himself with your entrance and despite him just putting the tip in, you’re asking him to stop.

“simon—stop.” you whisper through strangled sobs.

“you’re doing so good, baby. did i say something wrong? are you okay?” it’s odd how his demeanor switches. two seconds ago he was just calling you a slut and now he’s kissing down your back and stroking your hair. it’s nice, but you want him to be rough. you’ve had enough of the sweet simon and you want him to let loose. despite his size and your need to adjust, you push your hips back no matter how bad it hurts and sob into the sheets as simon lets out a soft ‘ohhh’ as he realizes that you want him to be rough and to make you take it, and so he does.

he knows that he does need to be slightly gentle, so he pushes in slowly, but the second he’s got his full cock inside of you, he’s using yours wrists as leverage to fuck you back onto him. it hurts, it does, but you can’t find it in yourself to care as your pain turns into pleasure and you’re moaning loudly, no care for the possibility that your boyfriend could return home. “daddy—fuck!”

“look at you! taking my cock so good despite me being your boyfriend’s dad.” he chuckles. “y’know a part of me thinks you’re enjoying this.”

the thought absolutely humiliates you but you don’t feel an ounce of shame as you whimper. you want to deny it, to lie and say you’re not, but the way your cunt is sucking him in and the white creamy ring forming at the base of his cock was a dead giveaway that you were.

“how do you think he would feel? or are you just a whore who doesn’t care about anything besides getting her cunt filled?” he slaps your ass, making you yelp.

“he’d be so mad—so fucking mad.” you rush out. “don’t care. need your cock, daddy.”

“‘m giving it to you, silly girl. is that not enough? do you need me to fuck you like this?” with no warning, he lets go of wrists and grabs your hips before absolutely slamming into you, the tip of his cock bullying your cervix as he fills you to the absolute brim. his cock is so big, so fucking fat that you’re positive every inch of your walls is stuffed full of his dick. his thrusts increase in speed and get more forceful as he takes one of his hands to pull on your hair, wanting to hear every last one of the sounds you make for him.

“yes! god fucking yes!” you yell out, using your now freed hands to grab at the sheets. every sound that he coaxes out of you is sinful and he loves it.

“feel so fucking good, baby. she’s so tight. so eager f’me.” he whispers out. “didn’t know you’d take me so well. must be a true whore. i don’t know many girls who are so eager to fuck their boyfriend’s dad, but here you are. got so fucking mad at those other girls for being with him ‘nd now you’re finally getting him back. how do you feel, baby?”

“good! i feel so fucking good.” you’re yelling but you don’t care, and unlike the way you used to when your boyfriend was buried inside you, every moan, every stutter of your hips, every whine and whimper was real. your tears blur your vision but you don’t miss the bright white light coming from simon’s phone and the first thing you try to do is hide your face, but he’s not having any of that.

“don’t run from it, whore. was so willing to fuck me but don’t wanna show your face?” he pulls your hair and forces your head away from the bed. “show ‘em your face, angel, c’mon. let ‘em see how pretty you are.”

you want to shake your head, to hide in shame, but when simon spanks you, it elicits a low moan and you turn your head towards the camera, not missing the way he smiled. “tell ‘em what you are.”

“‘m a whore. a dirty fucking whore.”

“and who’s making you feel this good?”

“fuck—you, daddy!” you don’t dare to shut your eyes and simon is reveling in just how glossy they look in the light of the camera. of course, he’d never send these to anyone, but why not have a video so he can replay the best sex of his life? “nasty fucking girl.” he slaps your ass once more and let’s go of your hair only to wrap his bicep around your pretty neck, flipping the camera so you can catch sight of your fucked out and tired expression. your cheeks are tearstained, lips are swollen, and your eyes are puffy and red, but you love it. simon can only smile as he continues to fuck into you, only looking away from the camera to nip at the shell of your ear as he applies more pressure to your neck, making you lightheaded.

when he does stop recording, all he does is pull your hair so you can choke you harder and when he does, you’re positive he’s purposefully sending you to the brink of passing out before allowing you air once more. it’s erotic in the filthiest way possible and simon is loving how receptive you are to it. when he squeezes, all he can do is mock your choked sobs as you try to push him away for air, but he doesn’t budge. “you can take it. this is what you wanted, right?” his free hand reaches down to play with your clit and he squeezes your neck tighter with the muscle that shouldn’t be as attractive to you as it is. “look at you, you’re fuckin’ drooling. just a sad whore who only wants to get filled.”

his words, his hand, his cock, the bicep that’s cutting off your air supply is all too much and when you reach your climax, it’s explosive. you let out a strangled cry of his name and all he does is squeeze your neck harder, matching the way your cunt is squeezing his cock, which is pretty damn tight. your walls are so slick, so velvety, like a forbidden silk that he has nothing but the pleasure of dipping into. you’re sopping wet and when you come down from your high with shaky legs and pants, you soon fall limp, which only makes simon frown.

“‘m not done with you yet, angel.” he pulls away from your cunt that has now relaxed due to your unconsciousness and slaps you, bringing you back to reality. your vision is blurred and your body is attempting to become reacquainted with the feel of air in your lungs as simon looks down at you. “there she is.” grinning, he plants a kiss on your head. “how you doin’, baby? ‘m i being too rough?”

you appreciate the check in and allow yourself to enjoy the moment of calm. “‘m okay, simon. just need a break.”

“as long as you need.” he nods, ignoring how hard he is and stroking your hair as he kisses over your reddened and tear stained cheeks. “doing so good for me. i’m so proud of you.” his voice is soft and the reassurance only makes your cunt throb. “being such a good girl for me, love. doing everything i say and taking me so well.”

the praise continues until you give him the okay and he gives you one last kiss. he lays on his back and because he knows you were out cold less than ten minutes ago, he’s more gentle when you wrap your lips around his cock and get to work, moaning out at the taste of not only him, but yourself. he’s bigger than you’ve ever had, but you do your best to put as much as you can of him into your mouth.

“such a good girl.” he praises, brushing your messy hair out of your face. “so proud—fuck—so proud of you.”

his sweet words only make you speed up, sucking your cheeks in as you run your tongue up and down the underside of his cock. you revel in his every moan and whimper, loving the way he pulled your hair to keep himself grounded and the way he was bucking his hips up into your mouth while muttering out whiny apologies. “‘m sorry. i know i need to be gentle, but your—nghh—your mouth is so good.”

you nod at him to silently tell him you’re okay and even though your head is still fuzzy, you take all of him, not caring for the way you’re choking at the base of his cock and the spit pooling around the corners of your mouth. the action makes him let out a loud and shameless whimper before he pulls you off. “ride me.”

and so you do.

you get on top of him and with a blank mind, you force yourself up and down his cock, letting out moan after moan as simon slaps your face and buries his head into your tits, his tongue swirling around your nipples as he looks up at you with hazy eyes. “that’s my girl. make yourself feel good, baby.”

and so you do. your head is completely empty as you throw it back to let out a cry of his name. your cunt is sucking him in and when the moment he touches that spongey spot inside of you, you gasp and place your hands on his chest for leverage, only making him moan louder.

until your phone starts buzzing on the side table.

and it’s your boyfriend that’s calling.

you don’t slow, you don’t even stop moving as you pick up the phone, knowing he can hear the sounds of your pussy squelching around his father’s cock, the sounds of your hips meeting his thighs, your moans and sobs as you put the phone on speaker. it doesn’t take him long to realize what’s going on, and when he does, he’s livid.

“who are you fucking right now?!” he yells out, eliciting a cock drunk giggle from you.

“who have you been fucking?” your voice is slurred and simon only smiles as he strokes your cheek with his thumb before slapping you, only making you moan and laugh. you’re completely drunk on the man below you and you’re not trying to spare his feelings.

“what are you talking about?” he tries to lie but all you do is click your tongue and shake your head. “mm-mm. samantha—oh fuck, that’s it! right there—she sent me the video.” you don’t care that he can hear your pleasure driven cries and his silence from the other line tells you all you need to know.

what throws you for a loop is when simon shamelessly speaks. “shame you cheated on such a good woman. her pussy is perfect. dunno why you’d ever give it up.”

there’s more silence before he gasps. “there is no way in hell you’re fucking my father—“

before he can finish his sentence, simon lazily smiles. “close, aren’t you, baby?”

“so close, so close.” you whimper as he slaps you once again. there’s something different about this building orgasm. it’s much more intense, more prominent in the pit of your stomach as you look back at simon with a teary expression, the feel of his cock pounding into your g-spot beyond more intense than it had been and when you try to pull off of him to escape the intense feeling, he sighs and grabs your hips before slamming back into you. “you know better, don’t you, baby?”

“yes, daddy—fuck!—‘s too much, too much.” you grab your tits but simon slaps your hand away and replaces it with his own. “you’re gonna fuckin’ take it like the whore you are. let him hear how good i make you feel.”

and once again, you do, almost having forgot that your boyfriend was on the phone as you let out every whimper and whine his cock coaxes out of you.

“listen to how a real man treats his woman.” he scolds his son. “he makes her feel special and the disappointing sex she told me about makes me ashamed to be related to you.”

“you’re literally fucking my girlfriend!”

“ex girlfriend.” simon corrects before letting out a moan. “fuck, fuck, ‘m gonna cum. where do you need it?”

“in me, please.” you breathe out, the thought of simon having been the only man to fill your cunt driving you so much closer to the edge.

“do not fucking cum in her or so help me god, i’ll—“

“you’ll what? not make her cum again?” simon cuts off his son. “tell him who makes you feel this good, my love.”

“you, daddy! always you.”

“then cum f’me angel. let him hear how i make you feel.”

and with that, you’re cumming.

more and harder than you ever have in your life.

amidst your moans and screams of simon’s name, the squelching sounds of your cunt grow louder and when you realize you’re squirting on him, you only search for the feeling even more, your body moving itself as you drag your cunt up and down his cock while the beautiful spurts of liquid absolutely coat yourself and him. simon moans aloud, throwing his head back as he looks at your phone.

“she ever squirt for you? because she did for me.” he chuckles.

“i’m coming home now.” is all your boyfriend says before he hangs up, but simon doesn’t stop.

“that was so pretty, so beautiful—fuck! ‘m gonna cum in you.” every ounce of pleasure that simon has felt and is feeling makes his hips stutter as he pushes into you one final time and groans as he fills your cunt with his cum, his head moving to grab and suck at your tits with eyes on you as he does so. the warmth of his cum makes you let out a soft moan as you lean forward to rest your head on his chest, not wanting to pull away from him just yet.

simon strokes your back as you shut your eyes, and let out a shaky sigh. “so how’s revenge feel?”

“really fucking warm and filling.” laughing, you pull back and slide off of simon, allowing him to push any of his cum that threatens to spill out of you back into your cunt as you lay back and pull his blanket over your bare and bruised body. “what should we do about him?”

“don’t give a fuck. soon as he gets here, he’s getting out. i don’t fuck with cheating and he knows better than that.” he shrugs, stroking your hair and kissing his head. “tell me you’ll stay.”

“‘course i will. couldn’t give up sex like that.” you confirm.

“but i’m—“

“i don’t care how much older than me simon. only thing that stopped me from fucking and pursuing you ages ago was the fact that you were his dad. now that he’s out of the equation, i’m more than happy to be with you. even if you’re a sick and gross old man.” laughing, you press a kiss to simon’s nose and pull away when you hear the sound of a car turn off. “gonna go deal with him?”

“eh, rather just lock the door and play with this pretty pussy some more.” just before he can, you catch sight of your bra and you don’t miss the cum staining the inside of the cups.

“simon, is that my bra?!” you sit up and he pulls away just as the front door opens.

“oh, look here! he’s home. i should go deal with that.” simon whistles as he locks and shuts his bedroom door, wanting to keep his son who’s yelling to see you at bay while you lay back and enjoy the sounds of him sobbing the same way you would’ve wanted to when you first heard about his unfaithfulness if he wasn’t such a dick.

besides, revenge tasted pretty damn good to you.

[sukunasuka-deactivated20250505]

warnings: somnophilia, dub con, non con? (you don’t know who’s actually between your thighs), nsfw🔞 (megumi is aged up to 19) this is a long one~

dating a man in his early fourties’ who has a nineteen year old son can be difficult, being that you’re in your early twenties and closer to megumi’s age than his dad. but when toji wakes you up with his head between your thighs, you think maybe it’s not so bad.

you can feel his shaky, deep, hot breath fan against your bare pussy, he likely yanked your panties to the side before you woke. but oddly, he’s not even touching you or licking at you. he’s simply lying between your legs with his two flat palms pressed softly into your inner thighs to keep them open, you blink your tired eyes open at the buldge of his head under the blanket with confusion.

“baby? what are you— ” you question tiredly, cutting yourself off with a soft gasp when you feel a single finger press against your nub. he doesn’t even swipe it or circle it, he just presses down on it like a button

your brows furrow a bit and you grip the blanket to see what he’s doing but before you can lift it, his finger starts to circle your clit agonizingly slow causing you to let go of the blanket and breathe deeply in soft pleasure, eyes closing and brows raising slowly

“mmm— so gentle” you coo at him with a slight teasing to your tone, grinding your hips into his finger which seems to motivate him to add another to swipe slowly against your throbbing nub. toji’s never so gentle, usually ravishing you with his tongue or slamming you against his fingers or cock. not to mention, he’s being so quiet, normally he’d be teasing you by now

“why are you being so quiet— f-fuck!” as if he’s intentionally cutting you off, he quickly presses his flat tongue over your clit in place of his fingers. but he doesn’t move it, he simply adds pressure. you feel so pent up, likely because he’s been toying with you long before you awoke, that the soft natural shake of his tongue is driving you crazy

“stop teasing me, toji,” you whine pathetically, still half asleep, attempting to grind your hips against his tongue. but you don’t get far because he wraps his arms around your thighs and holds you down with such strength that it hurts

you sit up with a hiss, leaning on your elbows and adjusting your hips as much as he allows, to get more comfortable

his unmoving tongue begins to make slow basic licks up against your clit, ignoring your attempt to adjust your position. it seems like he’s not using any technique, like he’s just gliding his tongue over the entirety of your clit instead of targeting the underside of it or the side. it works to stimulate every nerve within your little bundle softly, and gently.

“s-shit— that feels really good,” you coo between deep breaths, head tilting back and hands gripping the sheets. little moans start to escape your throat, your legs beginning to subtly shake in need. it’s like he’s teasing you intentionally, that or he doesn’t know what he’s doing. but forty-one year old toji is experienced to say the least so it can’t be the latter.

you whine after minutes of this taunting, wanting more. “toji, baby, this is sweet and all but i need more.”

and as if punishing you, he nips at your clit, causing you to jolt and squeak in surprise. it’s as if he’s silently saying, ‘you’ll take what i give you.’

you pout and whine dramatically in protest, but that quickly turns into a confused tilt to your head, eyes peeking open at the bulge of his head when he pulls his tongue away and uses one hand to spread your lips apart. you wait for some kind of touch, his tongue or his fingers but it doesn’t come. it’s as if he’s analyzing your pussy, he’s most definitely just looking at it because he’s not even stimulating you now.

you’ve only ever been insecure with toji when you first started getting intimate, but that quickly changed as toji praised your body relentlessly the entirety of your first time together. but now, heat arises on your cheeks as he just stares at your throbbing pussy. it definitely doesn’t help that you can’t even see his expression or know why he’s doing this

“what’s gotten into you, toji? quit it,” you whine, reaching to pull the blanket up once again but before you can, he harshly takes hold of your wrist with the hand connected to the arm wrapped around your thigh and holds it against your lower belly as to stop you from moving. it’s so dark that you can barely see his hand around your wrist

you tsk, pouty and irritated as he continues to stare. before you can say something else, he suddenly closes your pussy lips until they touch each other with the same fingers that were holding them apart. you gasp softly in surprise, only becoming more confused when he opens your lips again, it feels weirdly good and extremely teasing. he continues to slowly repeat the motion a few times over, and you can’t help but feel awkward and embarrassed as your squelching fills the room. it’s like he’s curious how pussy folds and lips work. you aren’t sure if this is due to his age, maybe something guys of his time used to do? but it confuses you

“toji, i swear to god,” you groan at him, impatiently. and it’s like he just doesn’t care because even though he stops opening and closing your pussy like an accordion, he starts to brush his fingers through your small patch of hair above your pussy instead. he does it like he’s brushing his fingers through the hair on your head. and it’s just too weird to feel pleasing. toji had told you he liked when you grew out a lil patch for him because when he sheathes his cock completely inside, your pubes combine and he thinks it’s romantic. you don’t question it, he’s an older man after all, there’s a lot of things he prefers that you don’t quite understand.

you pull against his grip on your wrist frustratedly and when he doesn’t relent, grip instead becoming harsher, you use your free hand to reach under the blanket in attempt to grip his hair and push his head down to -get to work, so to speak.

frankly, you’re exhausted, it’s gotta be something like one or two am and you had a long day yesterday. it seems like he just woke you up to toy with you and you genuinely have no idea how he has the energy to pull this shit when he’s been working his ass off at work recently. you guys hadn’t even had the chance to fuck the last few days.

just when your fingers feel the tips of his hair, his hand that was brushing through your pubes snaps up and brings it down to join your other hand in prison. it happens so fast that you feel like you have whiplash. he transfers both of your wrists to one hand, his one hand being large enough to encase both. he uses his now free hand to keep your thigh open for him.

“so mean,” you whine loudly, “you know i like to touch you.” you grumble, pulling sharply against his hand holding your wrists in resistance. it’s not unusual for toji to be controlling or demanding in a ‘mean’ way but he’s never kept you from touching him, especially when he’s between your thighs. and though your intention was to push his face into your folds, it’s not like you don’t wish to simply touch him too.

then, you feel a cool breeze of air blow against your wet folds, causing you to shiver and hiss in mild relief. your chasm clenches and your nub twitches from the stimulus and after a moment of seemingly watching your pussy react, he does it again.

now, you’ve never growled in your life and why would you? but you find your fed-up self growling in annoyance. your growling threat does make him move on, but not to what you need. you gasp as he uses two fingers to pull the hood of your clit back to expose your sensitive nub.

embarrassment is bursting at the seams but not as much as confusion is. and just when you’re about to say fuck this and utter your safe word so you can finally go to sleep, he lays his tongue against your exposed clit. it feels as though electricity shoots through your body. a shockingly loud whimper strangles out of your throat and your eyes clench shut when he starts to kitten lick it.

“w-what the fu- what are you doing- too much!” you shout at him, head tossing back and forth with eyes clenched shut as your toes curl. it hurts just as much as it feels euphoric, half of you wants him to stop and half hopes to god he doesn’t. your thighs close and open around his head sporadically in futile attempt to cope. if you weren’t in such a distraught state, maybe you’d have noticed how his hair feels a bit different on your thighs, shorter layers on the top that are sticking out in all different kinds of directions.

after he seems to have his fill of torturing you, he lets go of your hood and allows it to cover your exposed nerve again. you sigh deeply in relief, taking deep breaths and relax your clenching eyes into gently closed, relaxed ones. you throb painfully as arousal leaks from your hole, trials down your ass, and pools on the sheets— it’s as if your pussy is crying and if it could cry, it would be.

then, after just a breath of a break, you feel one of his fingers make contact with the lowest part of your pussy. your brows twitch in confusion as he attempts to push it inside, quickly realizing your chasm curves up a bit when his fingertip push against your bottom wall as your other walls cling to him

he twists that finger into you slowly and awkwardly, opening you up and working you open as the room fills with gasps and wet mushing sounds

but even though you’re moderately wet, it still stings when he tries to add another finger before even getting the first one in all the way. you hiss, hips attempting to jolt away from his insertion.

“ngh—hurts,” you whine, hinting to stimulate your clit while he fucks his fingers into you to ease you into the intrusion but instead, he freezes. a beat passes as you await his next move. but he doesn’t do anything.

it’s not the craziest idea that toji is just teasing you intentionally but something feels off. but you’re so tired and he’s been taunting you this entire time, so you help him.

“your tongue, wan’ your tongue,” you coo at him, impatiently. instantly, he takes your advice.

but you aren’t prepared for the speed he fucks his fingers into you when he finally starts sloppily making out with your clit. you practically scream at his force, back arching off of the bed, it’s not harder than he’s ever fingered you but its definitely faster. and it’s odd because the way he’s finger fucking you is so sloppy, no direction and no technique. it reminds you of your high school boyfriend when he finally got his fingers in you, toji can be so impatient sometimes. you assume he’s just fingering you to prep you for his cock and not for your pleasure.

so when one of his jabs push against your top wall where your sweet spot is, you moan loudly.

“there! right there! please!” you beg, whining and legs now shaking something violent.

you can’t help but babble ‘thank you’s’ over and over like a prayer when he listens, immediately focusing on your g-spot.

you get so loud that you start to bite harshly on your bottom lip in attempt to stay quiet.

“m-megumi! he’s sleeping, can’t stay quiet— s-slow down!” you slur out, eyes rolled back and thighs basically crushing his head with force. the morning breakfast with megumi after an intimate night with toji is always awkward to say the least. he’s kind enough to act as though he didn’t hear anything but you know he did

and for the first time all night, he moans against your pussy from your words. you can barely hear it over your desperate moans and squelching. the only reason you know he did is because the vibrations of it rip through you.

your high sneaks up on you so harshly and quickly that you feel as though you black out for more than a few moments as tears fall from your eyes.

“c-cumming!” is all you can grit out, and it’s not like you had to tell him that, he can feel your pussy tighten around his fingers like a vice. somehow you’re not so out of it as to not notice the stutter in his movements, the way the bed creaks where he lies on his stomach, and how he pathetically groans louder than ever. you’re not an idiot, he just came in his pants.

and maybe it’s the fact that he jizzed his pants from just eating you out, his sounds, the abuse of your g-spot, or the painfully annoying teasing he conflicted on you leading to this but you cum harder than you have in weeks. your orgasm lasts minutes and you see fucking white.

as you come down, you whimper as you grind your hips against his face. he catches onto what you’re doing and sticks his tongue out eagerly, slipping his fingers from your sticky, slippery hole to allow you to focus on his tongue.

“oh baby, you’ve gotta start teasing me more often. that was— fucking amazing,” you praise, catching your breath and slowing your grinding. even though it was a little too slow sometimes, it was nice to feel toji being so gentle and taking his time with you for once.

he again, stays quiet to your dismay but he collects the cum escaping your chasm with his eager tongue, making you whimper in overstimulation.

“jesus. you really missed me, huh?” you breathe out deeply in relief and he pecks your clit one last time in affection, as if silently saying ‘your welcome,’ before letting go of your bruised wrists and readjusting your panties to cover you again.

and though it’s a bit odd that he’s been so silent tonight, when his silhouette crawls out of under the blanket and slips out of the dark room, you think nothing of it. toji’s always getting up to get water or a snack after you fuck. “hurry up— wan’ cuddle” you slur out, groggily as your heavy eyes fall closed

you’re so tired from the day before that you allow yourself to close your eyes and drift to sleep, the post orgasm relaxation taking over. toji will wake you up if he wants to fuck or cuddle when he comes back, you assume he will so it’s no big deal

waking up the next morning, you turn on your side and cuddle into toji’s bulky body lying beside you, nuzzling your head into his chest before opening your eyes to look up at him.

“wow~ goodmorning, little one. what did i do to earn such a cute greeting this morning?” toji’s deep voice inquires as he wraps an arm around you and squeezes the fat of your ass, he’s likely been awake for a few minutes before you.

“can’t a girl just be happy to wake up next to her sexy boyfriend for no reason?” you tease with a playful smile, big doe eyes gazing up at him, subtly grinding your panty-clad pussy into his thigh. the gusset of your panties are still a bit damp from having not changed out of them last night

he smirks down at you and lays a long kiss onto your lips, humming into you before parting and peppering your neck with kisses that make you giggle as he holds you deep into himself.

“how lucky am i? you still find this old man attractive, sweetheart?” he mumbles into your neck and you giggle.

“i don’t know.. you’re getting a bit slow these days, old man.” you tease, biting your lip as you smile up at him playfully.

you squeak when he flips you over and pins you down by your wrists. he leans into your ear and nibbles on it. “careful, this old man is getting real close to fucking that attitude right out of you, girl.”

you nudge the side of your head against his affectionately and hum, seductively. “oh yeah? you all talk or are you actually gonna do it?” you wrap your legs around his hips and lift yours to grind against his hardening cock through his sweatpants.

he chuckles and pulls away from your ear to look you in the eye, gaze flickering down at your unrelenting hips with a clench to his jaw. “fuckk, i wish i could baby.”

and immediately you whine, a pout forming on your lips. “noo, again? you’re really gonna go to work now?”

you love being toji’s little housewife but he’s been so busy lately. the only company you have is megumi and his friends while he’s away and it gets so awkward since you’re all around the same age

he gives you one last peck to your lips and you chase his lips as he parts from you. he sits at the edge of the bed before stretching and grunting, loudly.

“sorry, sweet girl. wish i could say i’d be back later but ‘fraid it’d gonna be a long one. i’ll be back in a few days.” he sighs as he stands and enters the master bathroom to brush his teeth

you groan to yourself dramatically, pouting as you lay back with your eyes closed. “shiu might as well be your girlfriend at this point.”

“i’ll make it up to you when i get back, baby.” toji shouts to you as the faucet turns on. you know he hates leaving you like this too but someone’s gotta pay the bills, he’s got you and a kid to support after all

you sigh, there’s no use in making him feel worse than he already does so you put on a playful smile and press your thighs together.

“oh really? i’m still sad you didn’t wake me up to fuck last night after you ate me out like that.” you sing at him, seductively causing him to chuckle deeply.

“last night? you want this old man so bad that you’re dreaming about my tongue now? i was at work last night sweetheart, didn’t get back till late.” he shouts back at you, you can tell he’s speaking with his toothbrush in his mouth.

you immediately shoot upright with blinking eyes, suddenly wide awake. you chuckle, nervously as your face drains of blood. there’s just no way that was a dream, it was so vivid. you quickly check your wrists and sure enough, you have slight bruises forming on them of finger prints— but they’re not prominent enough to be sure.

“a-are you sure? it felt so real,” you gulp, almost speaking more to yourself than him.

“very sure. got here like three hours ago, was wondering why your panties were so wet. naughty, naughty girl.” he teases you, thinking nothing of your dream

you look down at your panties and your brows twitch in confusion. your pussy feels all kinds of sensitive, like it always is the morning after getting sexy with toji. can wet dreams get that vivid to where you can feel the after effects of it?

you shake your head and stand up before changing your panties and slipping on some sweatpants. there’s no use in dwelling on it, it’s not like someone broke in last night to eat you out and then left, right?

“pancakes this morning?” you inquire as you open the bedroom door.

“eh—too sweet, toast? kind of in a hurry,” toji calls back as the shower turns on.

“okay, baby.” you call back before leaving your bedroom and entering the kitchen.

as you put on the coffee pot for toji, you hear megumi walk in with a yawn behind you before he takes a seat at the kitchen table. you clench your eyes shut briefly in embarrassment. you aren’t sure if he heard you having a wet dream last night or if you even made any noise at all

“good morning, megumi.” you greet him, kindly as you lean your back against the counter to face him.

he hums groggily and offers a small smile. you exhale in relief, usually megumi won’t make eye contact after a night of hearing you and toji fuck so you figure you’re in the clear.

“i’m making toast for your dad but i’m down to make whatever if you’re craving something specific.” you cheerfully offer as you throw some bread in the toaster.

“uh- no it’s okay. i’ll make my own.” he voices as he turns on his phone to scroll on it. megumi’s always rejecting your offers to make him food, do his dishes, or his laundry. you can tell he thinks it’s weird that you’re only a year older than him and acting like his mom while fucking his dad. but still, megumi is hard to read, he’s even more bitch-faced than his father is.

you sigh and put on a small smile. “okay, let me know if you change your mind.”

and then it’s pretty silent until toji comes in, showered and holding his work bag.

toji downs the coffee you offer him quickly and shoves a piece of toast in his mouth before he pulls you in and slaps your ass then grips it, making you squeak and blush with megumi just feet away on his phone.

“t-toji!” you gasp at him, futilely pushing his chest away as he chuckles and finally lets go of your ass but he still holds you close.

“oh hush. he doesn’t care, do ya, kid?” toji nonchalantly asks megumi as he takes a long wiff of your neck.

megumi simply sighs, clearly annoyed with his father like usual.

ignorant toji kisses you deeply before reluctantly letting you go and snatching the other piece of toast you made him.

“be back soon,” you pout lovingly, following him to the front door before he opens it and turns to you.

“i’ll miss you too, sweet girl. i’ll call you.” he looks down at you with affection and sighs as he finally exits with a wave.

you watch him pull out of the driveway and leave as you chew on the inside of your cheek.

you fiddle with the lock on the front door and it seems to be working fine.

once you’re back in the kitchen, you sit at the kitchen island and lean your chin onto your palm as you watch megumi cook for himself, back facing you by the stove. you just can’t drop the idea that your ‘dream’ wasn’t just a dream. the way toji poked and prodded at you like a teenage virgin was so odd— not to mention how he didn’t speak or let you touch him.

“how’d you sleep?” you inquire and megumi stops moving the spatula around in the pan when you speak briefly before clearing his throat and then continuing.

“good. why?”

“just wondering, do you know for sure if i locked the door last night before we went to sleep?” you ask, obviously not wanting to scare him into thinking someone broke in— but at this point it’s a possibility.

“uh- i think you did, what happened?” megumi inquires, not even turning to face you as he stirs his eggs

you sigh and blink down at the counter top, “nothing, nothing.”

now, he turns to you with his natural lidded eyes and indifferent face but he seems more observant of you right now.

“you think someone broke in or something?” he huffs out of his nose but he doesn’t even smile, as if he’s more focused on how you react.

you gulp. “i- probably not. i’m being ridiculous.” you wave him off.

and he simply hums before turning back to his eggs.“something happen?” he asks after a few moments of thinking to himself.

it’s not like you can just flat out tell your boyfriend’s son you think someone broke in to eat you out and left.

“just didn’t know when toji came in last night.” you utter, as if that’s a plausible explanation for thinking someone broke in.

“think it was four.” megumi hums, turning back to face you once again with his natural, bored gaze.

you blink at the counter and then up at him with a confused twitch to your brows. “you.. you were up last night?”

and you gulp as you gaze at his hair that sticks out from all directions, unlike his father.

he hums in confirmation, the smallest hint of a smirk on his lips as his gaze flicks down to your bruised wrists, his smile so faint that you’d believe it wasn’t actually there. lips that make you think about if you ever felt toji’s scar on your pussy last night.

your breathing begins to quicken but you’re deep in denial, your mind protecting you by forcing yourself to deny the idea that megumi could have been the man between your thighs last night.

“o-oh, couldn’t sleep?” you inquire, attempting to steady your voice and hold a normal looking smile. honestly you couldn’t care less that he couldn’t sleep, but at this point, you’re trying to continue the conversation like normal so he doesn’t suspect that you know anything.

“yeah, i had a sweet tooth.”

————

lowkey already have pt 2 planned out🙂‍↕️

[screampied]

❛ PHEREMOANED ?! ❜ t. fushiguro

☆ sum. after three long years in the slammer, toji returns home to you—his pretty sweet fiancé. to surprise him, you decided to spray on your new expensive pheromone perfume. was it the best idea? probably not. you wanted to tease him, not make him feral.

warnings. fem! reader, ex-convict toji, pwp, feral toji, scent kink, unprotected, manhandling, size kink, cúnnilingus (he eats it from the back), toji has a tongue piercing, brēeding, marathon séx, choking, spít, impact play, hair pulling, overstim, tummy bulges, overstim.

wc. 6.2k

toji fushiguro never knew how to stay out of trouble—he had a temper and that wasn’t really a surprise.

he’s lucky he got released early on good behavior. three years, one thousand and ninety-five days, twenty six thousand hours and thirty six months spent apart from him. regardless though, you were patient—making sure to visit him during visiting hours and all. but the day he gets released, you get an idea. scrolling online, you read an article about pheromone perfume and skimmed across some pretty eye-catching stories. you ordered it about two weeks prior, waiting for his release to actually try it. spritzing a few good sprays on yourself, you wait by the front door where one of his friends, presumably shiu was dropping him off at.

creaaaak, the wooden door opens and there stands toji. he’s still in his orange jumpsuit, tresses of shaggy sable bangs brushing down his eyes, briefly occluding his vision. “hey, girl,” he gruffs, catching you in his arms once you tackle him into a hug. his big big arms cage you in before he kisses the top of your head. “missed y-”

toji pauses, and you let off a gasp once he abruptly digs his face inside the crook of your neck. “hn. . new perfume, baby?” good, so it really does work. his scarred hands rest toward your hips before he starts to sniff all down your neck, groaning against your skin.

“y- yeah,” you stammer, feeling his hands grip against your blouse. “you like? it was on sale.”

“i love it but it’s damn strong,” he murmurs, and out of nowhere—he lifts you up, tossing you over his shoulder. a giggle nearly leaves from your lips as he starts to trod toward the bedroom, loud boots clanking against the marble-made floor. “did you spray it between your legs too? fuck, you’re just asking to be ruined tonight, baby.”

well shit.

everything happens so fast,

one second you’re hugging your fiancé who just got released from prison and the next, he’s tossing you on the bed, making you spread your legs.

you’ve seen a lot of different faces of toji but this, this was entirely new. he’s got the type of look in his eyes where he wants something and he won’t hesitate to take it . . even if that something is you.

seeing you like this, sprawled all out on the bed with that cute perplexed expression of yours, fuck.

three years. three years without any kinds of physical contact he had to endure, and with the addition of your new pheromone perfume. perhaps you had some kind of death wish.

“spread ‘em,” he huffs, clicking his tongue. toji’s eyes were already hooded and half-lidded. he’s panting already and he’s not even looking at you.

just from staring between your legs, he could almost taste you on his tongue - his tastebuds were already salivating at the carnal thought. toji’s verdant dim eyes stare straight between your legs, right near the very crevices. “wait, no,” and you gasp again once he flips you over, making you flop down on your chest. “ass up baby. i don’t wanna look at you right now. wanna look at her.”

his hands were so hot, quite literally.

his bare palms had all kinds of scars painted near the centers with such rough texture as he feels against your ass. you try to suppress an incoming moan as your back willingly arches forward. your cheek’s being smushed against the silky red cover of your own pillow before he leans in.

toji’s wetly kisses against your ass cheek, nearly ripping your skirt in two. “mhm,” he groans, and even now, he’s still smelling you. your legs start to shake and quiver once he’s smelling every part of your thighs. toji drags his nose up and down, he’s making sure he can take in all of your perfume, he even licks down your legs. you’ve seen him feral before but never like this. his palm continues to rub against your skin before the button tip of his nose reaches toward your panties. “fuck, don’t know how much i missed you, princess.”

“t- toji,” you whine through gritted teeth, and he’s flicking his tongue against the lace pad of your panties. your smell, it was so good - he just couldn’t get enough.

it scratched a obscene itch in his brain, making him so aroused—so much so that you weren’t helping the strain in his jumpsuit sweats at all. toji’s boner was almost painful, it prods against the thin fabric of his jumpsuit and your scent only made his throbbing so much worse.

his hair tickles against the corners of your thighs as you feel his warm breath ghost against your sopping entrance. oh, right. you were kind of sort of a bit drenched—you had played with yourself out of pure boredom. you failed to make yourself finish but he didn’t have to know that.

toji noticed right away and he raises a brow, two pinching fingers pulling your panties to the side. “she’s soaked,” he utters in a low voice—he sounds almost offended. “wonder why that is.”

you let off a broken moan once he peels your panties to the side with just his teeth, dragging a fat swollen thumb right down your drooling slit. “fuckk, smell so good baby but i bet you taste even better.”

and within seconds, his tongue delves right between your legs. once he starts—there’s no prying him off. whenever it was pussy involved, toji was an animal.

he could eat you out for hours, no breaks, not caring at all if his jaw locks and tightens. he ate you out as if it wants some sort of competition, and he’d always get a gold medal. every single time. .

you’re facing the opposite way while he’s eating you from behind, two open palms squeezing against both soft cheeks of your ass. the tiny ball of his piercing gradually flicks against your clit and you nearly let off a shriek. the stimulation has you gasping for air and it felt so good—you’ve never felt more sensitive.

toji spreads your ass wider, dipping his lengthy wet tongue in and out before spitting down your entrance. “ptf,” and it’s a glossy slimy trail that dribbles straight down the cracked slope of your ass before oozing near your puffy pussy. it’s so sloppy, he laps it right up before spitting on it again and again.

toji hasn’t tasted you in forever, three years felt like forever and he wanted to make sure he’d make up for lost time - with his tongue.

“mhm, keep squirmin’ doll, see where it gets ya,” he’d gruff in a husky tone, feeling your entire body starting to writhe and shudder all from his mouth.

despite his jaw already locking—his face was flushed and tears of sweat sprayed against his forehead. even still, the dark haired man showed no signs of fatigue. you just tasted so sweet, and your loud pheromonal smell made things worse.

you slouch back against the cushioned mattress, peering behind you to see him sloppily give your pulsating cunt three second slurps. fuck, his tongue. it was so long.

you felt every extending inch of it trace and curl all throughout the swollen walls of your pussy. he had to make sure your pretty pussy remembered who it belonged to. his rosy pink tip swirls around and around, side to side, up and down—he makes it toy in every witch direction. toji then starts to merrily spell out the thirteen notorious letters of his name over and over.

t - o - j - i - f - u - s - h - i - g - u - r - o.

once his tongue curls in such a slick spiraling manner, your tummy heaves once he spells out the letter ‘s’ with his tongue. it twirls from up to down, and he even grumbles out the letters under his breath in that low, raspy voice.

two big hands cling onto your rickety thighs before he spanks your ass once he sees you trying to reach down between your thighs to touch yourself. “watch it, little girl,” he snarls, the sudden pitchy tone in his rough voice making you throb right on his tongue. he’s practically making out with your cunt now, french kissing your slobbering entrance. toji’s just casually nose deep, taking every few seconds to smell against your clit. “she’s mine.”

“tojiiii—” you moan, continuing to rock your unsteady hips back into his face. toji’s patchy stubble rubs all over against your skin until it’s just profusely dripping from your slick juices.

the scar that runs down the right side of his lip smears against you also. it feels so rough as it scraps against your folds. your pussy twitches as he starts to drag his face back and forth against your slick and you gasp once his tongue slides further up.

up, up, up until it reaches there.

“ah, now what do we got ourselves here,” he whispers, and you moan once he plugs a fat thumb against your puckering hole.

your teeth dig into the cottony fluff of the pillow that’s sat right in front of you. toji’s thumb, he circles it around before lolling out his tongue. even though you’re not directly facing him, you can just hear how wet it is—how wet you are.

you’re squelching so loud that it bounces off the walls, ricocheting against every peeling corner.

the syrupy saliva that departs and smacks from his lips once he open his mouth. “god, ‘yer fuckin’ wet, baby. just for me,” he murmurs, and he creates a long slippery slicking trail from the starting point of your throbbing clitoral hood all the way until he reaches your hole. he pauses as sheeny drool following his mouth. saliva continues to slip away from his wry crooked lips as his lips open and close. he’s fucking sloppy.

it was no secret—toji fushiguro was feral, happily smearing his face against your cunt whilst his tongue multitasks, licking near your ass.

it’s a sensation that almost tickles but oh, you weren’t laughing. your toes curl up in pure ecstasy and your face scrunches as he’s just devouring you whole like the starved man he was.

“ngh, tojiiii,” you whine, feeling the luscious twirl of his fat long tongue run over against every part of your pussy. your estatic nerves felt it all, he was very precise and never missed a spot.

toji’s lip scar that swoops down the right curve of his mouth faintly brushes up near your clit as his head continues to move. he hears you ‘ooh’ at the ticklish feeling and he chortles darkly. he likes to loll out his tongue even further, repeatedly thwacking the center of his tongue against your clit just so you can grow dumb from his piercing.

with your chest continuously dipping and heaving, you’re shivering against the as he’s got a face full of your ass—he feels you reaching from behind, grabbing near his overgrown unkempt strands to give it a nice mean tug. you’re dragging his head against your pussy now, even if your grip was a bit weak. “ohmygod, ‘s gonna make me cum too quick, toji.”

“taste so sweet, he grumbles, your viscous slick gluing all against his reddened scarlet lips. toji continues to dip and delve his lengthy flat tongue in and out of your sweet puckering hole before trailing it back up towards your cunt.

you let off a pretty mewl that lasts for multiple seconds, feeling dewy saturated strings of his spit run away from his own two lips and slabber all over your wet flaps. if it’s one thing toji does, he makes sure that you’re always wet for him.

you’re biting your fist until your knuckles split, occasionally hearing him spit against your cunt again, using a clammy palm to smother it everywhere.

“my wet girl,” his lips purse, soft pants of breath fanning right against your slick. you’re frantically quavering—shaking, and those warm ghostly breaths that waft by your rear doesn’t make things any better. various tingles roam through your body as he’s eating you out from behind, savoring your taste entirely. “mhm, don’t get lazy on me now. shake y’er ass against my face, baby. fuck me back.”

you moan once he gives your right bare ass cheek a firm squeeze. cupping it into his palm, he spanks it before you obey his command. jolting soft skin recoils and jiggles against his face and toji snickers, lying his wide tongue even flatter against your exposed wet pussy.

“uh huh, atta girl, lemme taste all of you,” and as he’s slurping, it doesn’t take long before you’re shooting utter blanks yet again.

interrupting static deafens your ears as a roaring wave crashes through your veins. your knees abruptly buckle until you’re collapsing forward in the mattress and its silky sheets. only then do you now finish on his tongue, letting off a shrilling whine.

“mhm, there it is, there’s my sloppy baby,” and a lustrous stream of your sweetened juices spew down his chin. his chin’s now shiny, and your glistening slick even decorates his stubble.

“fuck,” he takes a moment to breathe, flicking his tongue against his lips. so sweet, toji’s dark eyes rove down at your cute elated state as you slumped into the pillows. you’re trying to crawl away but with two hands, he’s reeling you right back into him. “oh, no ya don’t. get back here, pretty girl,” and your lips part into an ‘o’ as you gasp, feeling his teeth playfully nibble against your pussy.

and toji doesn’t let you escape his grasp. not yet anyway, he was starving. he missed you, and his tongue showed that.

you hadn’t realized how much time’s passed whilst he’s between your legs—you’d guess it’s been a few hours since it was almost dusk now.

toji was a eater, he’s got you lied flat on your back now as he’s slurping you clean. his tongue flicks underneath his bottom lip, tasting the mess you caused that’s pouring down his slick chin. it’s probably been your fifth orgasm and your legs can barely hold themselves up.

“mhm,” and he’s just munching your pretty pussy, glossy strands of his own saliva mixing with your sap continues to dribble down his chin. he’s made such a mess, all because of you. “you sprayed between your legs, didn’t you baby?”

“n- no,” you lie, dragging his head back and forth against your cunt. you did, but to be fair you didn’t think it’d work. you thought it was just another scam. but it wasn’t — toji was here, eating you out as if your pussy was the last edible thing in world.

make no mistake, he was a filthy man. his entire chin’s cascading with a stream of your syrupy mess and he barely bats an eye. you didn’t know how much more you could take before he chuckles, finally departing his lips.

“you’re a bad liar,” and his voice grows deep again. you meet his eyes and that’s when toji makes you get on all fours again. “ass up. y’know the drill. atta girllll,” and you almost shiver from his touch. toji stares at your perked ass, bringing a palm towards your left templed cheek. smack, you moan from the abrupt sting before he later caresses it. “god, i missed you. those idiots wouldn’t even let me touch myself, baby. thought about you the entire time i was rottin’.”

and as he speaks, your cheek presses further against the pillow. toji tugs on his the sweats of his orange jumpsuit—the fabric writhes against his slim waist before falling down, now exposing his boxers. he watches as your ass writhes and he hums, springing out his thick cock. “shit, you don’t even realize how good you smell, do ya?”

“no,” you breathe, feeling a lump circle near the inside of your throat once he brings his tip towards your entrance.

it’s sopping wet, weeping with honeyed tears of slick before he smacks it against your puffy hood.

“fuuuck,” you whine out, the feeling of his bulbous mushroom tip bringing you so many memories. he brushes it down your sensitive slit and you feel the slimy remnants of precum that oozes off his frenulum. a hand of his wraps around his veiny length, giving it a few striking pumps before toji groans. “fuck me toji, f- fuckin’ hurry up.”

“now girl,” he brings another smack towards your rear. this time it’s harder, the recoil rings through your ears and makes you chew the inside of your cheek. “don’t rush me,” and as the bass in his voice pitches lowers and lower, you feel yourself pulsate right between your sprawled out thighs.

toji’s aligning himself, hearing your sloshing weeps sloppily exit out of your pussy. a wry smile compresses against his lips before he wraps a few fingers over the back of your throat with his free hand. “ ‘m gonna take my time with you. so, do me a favor baby. arch that pretty back ‘n shut the fuck up.”

it was such authority in his voice—despite his tip barely even being in, he felt your cunt twitching almost right away.

it makes him snicker to himself, caressing your stinging back side with a scarred bare hand.

“good girl,” and he leans further in, taking yet another whiff of your salaciously rich scent. “here it comes,” he lowly purrs, and you bite your lip once he’s finally entering inside of you.

toji’s slow, purposely. he loves more than anything to see your patience wearing thin, squirming and just aching for a crumb of dick. as he’s perfectly aligned, his swollen angered cockhead gradually starts to disappear inside of your pussy.

“biiiiig stretch, there we go babygirl. take it.” and you’re moaning at each ridiculous inch burying its way inside of you. with little to no ease at all, he’s mending your squashy walls and shaping them all due to the size of his thick cock.

he’s so big, so big that his dick makes your tummy cave in a bit and your thighs start to rattle.

toji’s got a fat delicious hook that always curves inside of you as he’s going in. it’s so good - so good to where you’re feeling butterflies brew up inside of your stomach . . unless that was just his bulge.

“toji, ohmygodohmygoddd,” you babble out, gasping with slick parted lips at the gaping barrage he makes with his dick. he’s only halfway in and yet you feel so full. you almost forgot what it was like for him to fuck you, and oh did you miss it. “you’re not—ngh, not gonna fit.”

“silly girl,” he huffs, already starting to feel himself break a sweat. his forehead’s starting to get clammy the more he’s easing his way in. the raven haired man towers over your jittery body before you feel his hungry gaze rove down your back. “we’ll make it work, princess. just like we always do, i trained this pussy well.”

squiiiissssh!

right after he speaks, you’re already gushing from his cock being so deep inside. his tip gets covered with your slick and he hums in amusement.

“even she agrees with me,” he hoarsely utters, preparing his sharp keen hips. you’re just so wet, you nibble down on your tongue as he’s losing himself further inside. it feels like forever until toji’s finally fully in. you hear a ringing ‘pop’ and that’s when you knew he was fitted nice and snug. “there we go, told ya. i always make it fit just for you—oh fuuucckk.”

your scent’s filling up the room now and it’s just driving him crazy. it gives him a headache, the kind of headache where he actually likes the pounding.

he can’t get enough of you, whether it’s your perfume, your body, or just you in general. all he knew was that he missed you and he was gonna show you how, with his deep pivotal thrusts.

“hngh, toji fuck,” you whimper out, and it doesn’t take long before he’s starting up a fast pitiless pace. the bed immediately dips from the harsh amounts of weight and pressure. toji’s got both hands glued to your hips.

his fat tip rudely thrashed at your sweet pulsing cunt time and time again. he’s simply relentless.

as he’s moving with such speed, you feel his full swollen base tap against your ass over and over.

you almost drooled, imagining how much he’d cum inside of you this time. his fingerstips dug so far into your skin that he left brief marks - it wasn’t too bad, but he’d definitely look back at it later just to tease you. “mmph, fuck toji. right there, that spot, baby.”

“i love you sweetheart but you talk too much,” he grouses, and you’re caught off guard once he pauses mid thrust just lean up close against you.

with your back still turned the opposite way, he pulls down your panties all the way, stuffing them in your empty mouth. “there, keep those pretty things in. only sounds i wanna hear is from y’er pussy, she’s the star tonight.”

toji’s cock was just merciless.

if you thought he was mean in bed, his hips were even meaner. ruthless, you’re being fucked against the springy mattress that’s creaking and the same babbles come out of your lips every time.

those same pathetic cries of his name. . it was like music to his ears. you couldn’t see yourself but you just knew you looked a mess.

you were drooling all against the satin pillow case as your eyes were just bulging out of their sockets. toji always knew how to stretch you good and stretch you right.

he was thick, driving his hips into you at such barbarous force that you were almost sure he was gonna break you. he wasn’t lying when he said he missed you. being away from you for so long was practically torture, and yes it was entirely his fault for getting locked up in the first place but still.

“ugh, mmph!” you whine, your noises becoming muffled from the bawled up panties that were stuffed inside of your puffed cheeks.

he was unapologetically drilling into your cunt as if he was a construction worker. if it wasn’t thanks to toji’s grip with hands, you’d probably fall of the bed and land flat on your ass.

“squeezin’ me so fuckin’ tight—shit,” he growls, his dark brows curling up together in frustration.

your walls were so clingy, they always were. his dick knew just the right spots to make you scream. after a few sloppy hits, his sweltering hot crown starts to break through your walls, pounding in and out until you’re just dumb full of cock.

you were stupid, entirely dumbfounded—and not a single thought crossed your mind as he’s hitting against that same sweet spot. you feel your toes curl up all the way until they feel numb and you let off a inaudible squeal. “pussy’s such a crybaby, look at how much y’er sobbin’ on me, princess.” he points out, purposely slowing his thrusts down just to ogle at the glimmering cobwebs of your own slick streaming down his cock.

it’s so pretty, you’re drenching his length each second and he feels himself twitch - you feel him twitch inside of you.

as he’s still vigorously delving his fat cock in and out of you, you feel toji’s grip around your neck softly tighten. silvery fingers stroke against your tender skin and you moan, a cock drunk smile spreading across your lips whilst your mouth’s full of your own damn panties.

you even taste yourself and it leaves a bittersweet taste in your mouth. toji then suddenly raises your ass up just a bit more.

“hey,” he grumbles, swatting a hand against your ass. you’re snapped out of your own lewd thoughts once the sting meets against your rear.

dark sly eyes flicker toward your body that’s twitching underneath him and he hums. “fuck back against me. don’t be a lazy girl,” and your cunt’s so close, you’re on the very verge and almost every nerve that’s buried between your thighs prepares itself for its elated finish. “fuck. me. back.” he repeats, his words an almost growl.

you whimper, quickening your hips again and he stares at your ass that’s gluing against his sharp pelvis, smack smack smacking away. the recoil was always his favorite part, he groans at how good you stick against him, luxuriating in your sweet filth.

you’re clinging onto the creamy white sheets for dear life while you’re also just casually getting the life fucked out of you.

toji always fucked like he hated you—of course, he didn’t. he loved you, he even put a pretty rock on your finger and couldn’t wait to take your last name. or vice versa.

alas, whenever the conversation went towards the bedroom, that was an entirely different story.

he was mean, sharp angered hips would plowed into you like he hated your guts. his tip’s a crimson red, kissing up against your sweetest spot that’s buried so far deep inside of you that it leaves a mark. your stomach continues to seize as he’s driving himself in and out of you, leaving a little bulge that prods near the lower part of your tummy.

“aw,” he glances at you trying to feel near the exact spot with your hand.

toji grunts lowly at the sharp twinge near his thigh, he’s almost out of fuel but he hasn’t had enough of you.

not yet.

“feel me there, yeah? ‘m really that deep, princess,” he whispers in a raspy tone, and you can hear just how out of breath he is. every few words were broken up and he’s panting right with you, pinching the bridge of his nose to suppress his own moans. “our future baby’s gonna be riiiight in here someday, princess. gonna make you the prettiest fuckin’ mommy.”

“mmph—mmph!”

“oh, right,” he cackles darkly, leaning in to pull your panties out of your mouth. once he does, you’re matching the drilling speed of his pants.

toji keeps jackhammering into your sopping wet cunt and you’re just hysterical. a raw squeal dies out from the back of your throat before you abruptly end up cumming.

it’s quick, you cream all down his cock and your eyelids fatally flap shut. “the fuck,” he pauses, and you feel yourself throbbing all around him. you’re shook, your eyebrows twist together in pleasure and you’re just trying to gasp for any breaths you could get. you pout once he stops his hips all of a sudden, still shoved numerous inches inside before he releases his hand from your throat. “i know you didn’t just cum on me baby.”

you gulp, still heavily sensitive. your body’s practically on fire and you hated that he suddenly stopped.

toji didn’t like whenever you came—without asking first at least. “ ‘m sorry,” you moan, hearing his heavy pants directly from behind you. there was a sweet bratty lie underneath your two words and he knew that. toji fushiguro was no idiot. “sorry toji, didn’t mean—”

“oh, babygirl i’m sorry too,” and you’re confused for a moment before he makes your face squish even further against the pillows. a hand of his lightly pushes your head back into the mattress. you whine once you feel him starting up again.

your pussy resumes to freely constrict around his length before he’s starting up his insane pace again. toji feels you trying to crawl away again, weakly trying to paw your hands at the edge of the bed but he’s pulling you right back.

your ass slams against him and you moan, feeling him thrash against your beloved g-spot yet again.

“nah, we aren’t running today. get back here ‘n take this,” and he talks over your sweet babbles and mewls, speaking in a faux tone to match yours. “you’re a big girl aren’t ya, yeahhh? so whatcha runnin’ for?”

as toji reels you back to his raunchy rude hips, they snap into you at full force and you’re just choking on your own mewling whimpers by this point.

hours past, many many hours of you being fucked in any and every position.

toji’s got you screaming at the top of your lungs from each delirious orgasm that he coaxed out of you. he tells you to give him one more, just one more—but that ‘one more’ ends up being at least six more.

you’ve never felt more dumb out of your mind, and every few seconds he’d run his nose down your back just to get another whiff of your sweet enticing scent. by now, he’s lost count of how many times he smelled you. whatever perfume you were wearing, it was now his favorite.

he had you creaming down his cock again and again, your legs shook in defeat and you moan once he prepares to start up again.

but that’s when you lie him back.

“ugh,” he falls back, and his arms rest over the headboard of the bed. there you’re met with the eyes of a very feral man. toji’s jumpsuit was half on, barely even on at this rate. you take a chance to look at him and he’s just so swole. your eyes roam down his beefy body. he’s definitely got more toned since the last time you saw him. his body, it’s as if he was a sculpture. his and were similar to a greek god, droplets of sweat race down near his sharp v-line and you were mentally drooling. you peer down at a few of his tats that ink into his skin, a few veins running down his forearms. “now, that’s pretty damn rude, baby. pushin’ me over like that. oughta—”

“shut up, toji,” you murmur, still trying to get over your most recent orgasm. your ears rang, so loud that it’s putting bells to shame. with hooded eyes and that same sleazy grin, he holds onto your waist as you make your way on his lap.

toji snickers, a palm of his hand squeezing your ass tight. “oh, so y’er gonna ride me. ‘s that what this is, princess?” and you could hear the smug in his tone.

he didn’t think you had the guts. .

the dimples that poke against either side of his lips confirmed his haughty expression. “cute, but fine. go ahead then, girl,” and he spanks your ass, burying his face into your neck, licking against your sweet skin. “ride me.”

you barely even last a few minutes—toji’s just too fucking big.

you’re babbling yet again at how he’s not gonna fit and he just wryly grins at you. seeing you struggle to take him for the umpteenth time continues to feed his annoying ego.

but like the gentleman he was, toji helps you.

big firm hands attach to your waist and he helps you align yourself once more. your cunt’s profusely drooling, aching for more despite the overstimulation that’s continuing to dumb you down.

“such a baby. gotta help ya with everything,” he whispers, hiding his face inside the crook of your neck.

your scent was still so loud, the smell of you alone made him throb and you felt it from the inside of your gripping pussy.

your clingy walls clamp and squeeze around him tightly before you start up your frantic hips again. twisting your brows together in lewd rapture, you whine—tossing your arms over his broad shoulders. after a few seconds, then do you start to move your hips. “fuck, that’s it baby. ride me good, yeah. move those hips, shiiit.”

he groans, feeling his pumping cock drag its way through every part of your slick walls. he never misses a spot, and he sticks his tongue out, dragging it down your collarbone.

“mhm, fuck me. ride it like you want it, princess.” he spanks your ass, hearing the bed wail and creak out frail groans of its own. your hips threw itself in a circle as you’re on his lap, taking in every inch of his thick heavy cock. toji closes his eyes, inhaling your scent for the nth time, and it’s almost as if the second you started riding him, your smell got even stronger.

your slick glosses down his cock entirely, and it’s so pretty. every chance you get, you stare down between your legs just to see the sloshing mess that’s slapping right directly right underneath you. strands of glistening juices blissfully mix with his and just it’s filthy.

it even tangles into a mere cobweb the quicker you bounce up and down his dick. “f- fuck, fuck,” you stammer, and you’re so full—full of nothing but long girthy inches.

again, his maddened plump tip was just rude.

it’s smacking against your spongy sensitive spot constantly, dragging out those cute whimpers from your throat. your fingertips claw down his back whilst your hips becoming incredibly sloppy. “toji, ‘m gonna cum again. fuck, gonna cum again. hngh, please lemme c-cum.”

“let me think about it,” he sighs, and your face cutely drops at his teasing. toji nips small minuscule bites near your neck as his cock stills inside of you. “hmmmmm,” and he even hums over your pleading whines. burly arms wrap around your waist before he squeezes near your ass. he waits for a good seven seconds before darkly chuckling, lapping his tongue directly underneath your chin. “fine. go ahe—fuck.”

toji groans because right as he speaks, he ends up cumming right with you. his teeth bites into your skin as he’s dumping in a fat load inside, creamy globs filling you up almost right away.

his body violently erupts, feeling a ripple of vibrations jolt through his body and you feel the exact same.

you felt a spark surge through your veins and your brain just turned into complete mush. as your dead hips feebly writhe against him your jaw is just hanging open. “hngh, ‘s full,” you wheeze, feeling him continue to overflow your pussy with such thick amounts.

it’s a lot, so much to where it’s drooling all down your thighs, matching color against the ivory colored sheets.

it was so warm - hot even.

you hear the sloshing spurts that it makes and you’re panting just as much as he was.

toji saved so much for you.

his jaw tightens as he leans back, one hand still glued to the right cheek of your ass. “god, i fuckin’ missed you,” he groans, feeling a tingly sensation at the way you swallow every drop with your drooling cunt. your hips waver over him, and once toji brings his face up to stare at you again, he cups your face. “you alright, princess?”

“y- yeah i—” but before you could even finish your sentence, he pulls you in a deep passionate kiss.

it’s sloppy more than anything, and you feel his hands creep down toward your tits, squeezing against your plump swollen mounds. you whine in his mouth as both tangled tongues move in tavern. shaggy bangs brush against your forehead as you wrap your arms around him. as he’s hungrily shoving his tongue down your throat, that’s when he feels your hips slowly starting to grind again.

after a few long seconds, toji pulls away, watching the lustrous trial of saliva leave from both lips. he’s still so sensitive and so were you.

“baby,” he says, raspy and out of breath. he leans in, giving you one more sniff before groaning in your neck. the insides of your thighs were sticky, glued to the very crevices with his hot gluey cum and you definitely milked him. “i need more—fuck, i need more.” and you gasp once you’re suddenly flipped over on your back.

leafy green eyes bore into your ass and you moan once toji drags a big thumb down your cunt that’s slobbering with milky globs of his seed.

“shit, look at this mess,” and he slides his tongue across his lip - specifically, across the scar that runs down his sly crooked lips. “hah, y’er tummy’s not full enough yet, princess,” and you can almost hear the pout in his voice as he’s stood behind you.

toji vertically smears his thumb against your cunt that’s weeping with such thick velvety amounts of cum. he inches his face toward your rear before bringing a kiss towards your wet entrance.

“before i give you more though, ‘m gonna have ‘ta clean this mess,” and you let off a surprised gasp once he dips his tongue back into your pussy again, the cold pierced ball that lies on his tongue making you whimper. “so be a good girl ‘n bend over again for me,” and he starts to nibble against your clit, feeling you ardently pulse against his tongue.

“heh, but i gotta say, this food right here’s so much fuckin’ better than the shit they serve us in prison, princess,” and toji spits right on your folds one last time, giving it a playful smack. “so much better. . ”

[hiddenhills0]

Soft n’ Warm!

in which simon ‘ghost’ riley can’t keep his hands off his adorable new neighbor who sees herself as so much less than she is <3

summary! when ghost returns from deployment, he notices the house next to him has been moved into by the most gorgeous woman he’s ever seen. too bad she doesn’t realize it and he’s about sick and tired of hearing her talk down on herself.

warnings! 18+ MDNI. simon ghost riley x chubby fem reader! p in v, unprotected sex (wrap it up, babies are expensive), whole lotta praise, dumbification (if you squint), reader looks down on herself a lot, body image issues, fingering, oral (f receiving), squirting, body worship, marking, biting, spanking, cum play, creampie, ghost has a slight obsession with tits, slight impact play, overstimulation, dacryphilia, age gap (20 years) ghost is 46 and reader is 26, reader is referred to and refers to herself as a ‘pig’, porn w plot

authors note! thought i’d write a chubby reader oneshot-ish thing because i’m a bigger girl and absolutely love accurate representations of my body type!! also thank you for reading, it’s nice to know people enjoy my silly little ideas! i’m so so proud of this post and i hope you guys enjoy <3

word count! idk :,)

there was nothing ghost was more excited for than to be in his own bed after six rough months of deployment. he loved his job, he did, but there was nothing better than being able to sleep in his own bed with the ac blasting as opposed to sleeping in a sand bed in the desert because god forbid he took two extra minutes to take a piss and all the beds were taken. he couldn’t wait to shower by himself, to be able to walk around in his boxers without having to worry about a centipede or something crawl up his dick hole, to be in solitude. just the way he liked it. he was a simple man and enjoyed smile things, like smoking a cigarette on his porch in the dead of the night when the only thing he could hear were the crickets, or reading books while drinking vodka on his couch, or being able to get his dick wet.

when he pulled into the driveway, he could sense something was off with his quiet neighborhood. it was six in the morning and he could hear soft music buzzing from one of the houses, even while sat in his car. when he got out, he noticed the sleek black car in the driveway of the house next to him, which was new. the house had been empty for years. not because it was ugly or anything, but because it was a small neighborhood and most people preferred the louder, busier cities. his town was quiet, and with a population of only 1,000 people, it was rare anyone left or anyone new entered. though ghost wasn’t around much, he had interacted with a few of the other people in the town and they were relatively kind. kids smiled at him, women did little to hide their attraction to him, the usual. the houses were rather small, just simple one stories with one-door garages and intersecting/overlaid hip roofs that covered the garages. Small couples with one to two children were usually the ones who entered the town and didn’t share the secret of the silent town with anyone, which he didn’t mind in the slightest. like he said, he loved solitude.

he chose to mind his business, shutting his car door and grabbing the pack of cigarettes that sat in his pockets before standing on his porch and lighting in, looking out at the grassy field in front of him, looking at the blossoming dandelions. ghost despised mostly everything about summer, the beating sun, the bugs, but he hated the heat most. it didn’t matter what he wore, he just always seemed to be hot. it was six am and yet, it was at least seventy degrees, the only thing keeping him from going inside being the thick storm clouds that were hiding the sun from view, but it didn’t do much for the humidity. ghost could feel himself sweating under his military uniform he hadn’t yet taken off, but he so badly wanted to finish his cigarette, so he stayed outside.

and that’s when he saw you.

when he heard your front door open, he initially ignored it, not wanting to stare or come off as odd to the new neighbor who’d probably thought no one lived in his house due to his car never being there and the house being dark at all times of day. but when he caught a glimpse of pink, he just had to look.

and god, were you a sight for sore eyes.

he watched you intently as you stepped out of your doorway and trotted down the stairs of your porch, humming whatever song to yourself as you walked to your mailbox. his eyes widened as he saw the crimson tint on your chubby and well rounded cheeks, your button nose also being a soft pink. your hair was up and out of your face, revealing more of your delicate and almost angelic features while a pair of black framed glasses sat perfectly on your nose, only helping to accentuate your innocent, doe eyes. you were beautiful, gorgeous, every fucking compliment in the book. you looked young, at least in your early twenties, which almost made ghost feel bad for gawking at you like this. almost.

he didn’t miss the way you were dressed in an oversized an oversized soft pink hoodie that enveloped you, the cuffs of your sleeves down to your cuticles and revealing your fingers that were decorated with white acrylics. the white sweatpants you wore were also rather baggy, which kinda made him upset. call him a perv, but he wanted to see your body. your clothes didn’t give him the slightest idea of your body type and he wanted to pout at the fact, he refrained as you grabbed your mail pieces and slowly walked to your door while reading them before you looked up.

you noticed the car in the driveway of the house you could’ve sworn wasn’t lived in. sure, parcels and mail were still delivered there, but you’d just assumed that they’d moved out and their information hadn’t been changed in the system. you’d moved into the quaint and quiet town about three months ago, wanting to get away from the big city for one single reason. not because you hated it, no, in fact, you loved it. you loved the hustle and bustle of honking horns, the busy and filled streets, the people absolutely everywhere at all times. you were a social person, although it didn’t seem that way at first glance, you were. you enjoyed going out, hanging out with friends, and talking. you could talk and talk for hours about absolutely anything when you were comfortable enough, which was pretty much the only thing you liked about yourself. you were easy to talk to and people loved that. what they didn’t love, was your body.

you’d been a bigger girl since you were a child and growing up in new york didn’t help that at all. you were picked on for the simplest things. your wore short sleeves but a full shirt? ‘ew, why are your arms so fat?’. you wore long sleeves and a full shirt? ‘ew, i can see your rolls.’ you wore a baggy shirt? ‘hiding your body, you pig?’ but kids were mean, so you tried your best to not care. you thought when you got older and entered the big world, people wouldn’t care anymore.

but they did.

god forbid you wanted to wear a dress to a club with your thinner friends. you watched as males flocked to them like hungry birds and you were left to watch. you watched as men and women looked at you and laughed, their eyes saying the harsh words they normally didn’t say, their sneers filling your head with every negative thought you could possibly have in the moment. god forbid you wanted to go to a cafe by yourself. the constant ‘she doesn’t need that sandwich’ or ‘she should be at the gym’ always managed to ruin your appetite and you’d always leave before even getting to eat your food.

what caused your move was a double blind date your friend dragged you to. you had already started hiding in your house at that point, not wanting to deal with the harsh words people who didn’t even know you had to say, but despite that, you put your friend first and went. her date was thrilled, but yours? not so much. upon seeing you, his first words to his friend were ‘why do i always get the fat ones?’

you turned on your heel and left your friend on her dats, returning home and sobbing hysterically as you packed whatever you could fit into your car and left, not bothering to inform anyone. you had no destination, no idea where to go, but you didn’t care. you wanted to get as far away from the city as you could.

luckily, you managed to buy the house you had now and ever since then, it was rare you left the house and when you did, you didn’t dare wear anything that gave people the smallest glimpse of the body you despised. you hated the way your thighs would rub together when you walked, the way your arms would jiggle when you’d raise them, but what you hated most was your stomach. you hated the way it never failed to protrude through any shirt you wore, the way you could feel it folding into rolls whenever you sat down, the way it would cover your cunt and ruin any attempt you made at masturbating because it was always in your way. you despised the fat on your body and how it seemed to define who you were. you didn’t even want to try to meet new people because your body would always be your problem. it would always deter them. it didn’t matter how kind, how thoughtful, how respectful you were, it would always bother everyone.

the house next door that you thought was empty gave you some kind of peace, making you comfortable enough to sometimes wear shorts or tank tops when you got your mail or allow you to on your porch with a salad as you watched the sunset. but now that you knew it wasn’t, you could almost pout at the thought of not being able to do that anymore. and it didn’t help that the man who lived there was attractive. too attractive for you. he was tall—really tall with muscles you could see through his military uniform and eyes so deep and pretty you wanted to get lost in them, but knew better than that. a man who looked that good couldn’t ever and wouldn’t ever be attracted to you. he looked older, but that didn’t deter your attraction that you’d never, ever voice aloud.

you didn’t want to be rude, so you gave an awkward smile. “hi.”

god, your voice was so sweet, almost honey-like, and it didn’t help that you were blushing. well, it could’ve been because it was humid and you were dressed in thick hoodie and sweatpants, but simon wanted to believe it was because of him, so that’s what he would do.

“hi.” he replied back. “when’d you get here?”

you didn’t miss his british accent, his deep voice sending chills down your spine as you turned to him. “i could ask you the same thing.”

“been livin’ here for ten years, dollface.” he chuckled, quirking an eyebrow at you. “how ‘bout you?”

“three months. never seen you before.”

“been on deployment, love.”

you don’t miss the pet names he calls you and you don’t really know why. you didnt mind love because the man was obviously british and that was a common thing, but dollface confused you. it’s a pet name you haven’t heard before, probably because no man was ever attracted to you, so you chalked it up to him just being nice.

“really, where?” your curiosity gets the best of you.

“the desert. if you think it’s hot here, the sand there would feel like fire.” his chuckle sends a deep shiver down your spine as you laugh with him before he licks his lips and looks you up and down, and though his expression is unreadable, it still makes you aware of the pudgy body you’re hiding beneath, and so does his next comment. “speaking of the heat, what’s up with your clothes? ‘s like—“ he pulls out his phone. “eighty degrees.”

he doesn’t miss the way you blush in embarrassment and seem to subconsciously cover your abdomen with your hands, “my house is freezing. my ac is always on blast.”

though he feels like there’s more to it, he takes the answer. “i get it. the heat’s a cunt.”

you smile at him before looking down at your mail. “i should head in. nice to see someone lives here.” it’s nice, really, you just wished he had come back at a later time, when you managed to stop pushing off the gym and managed to lose more weight.

“nice meetin’ you, love.” he hums as you head inside and close the door, your pink curtains hiding you from view as ghost drapes his head and thanks god you hadn’t noticed his growing cock. everything about you seemed so.. sweet. your syrupy, honey laced voice, your crimson cheeks that resembled tomatoes when he’d asked you about your clothes, the way your doe eyes would squint as you smiled. the sound of your laugh echoed in his mind and he made it his mission to hear it to more, to talk to you more, to be more.

𐙚 ⋆˚.⋆

ghost was coming back from the grocery store a few days later, having run out for a frozen pizza, some cigarettes, and a smoothie because the older man had the largest sweet tooth. he entered his house and set the pizza in the oven before heading out to his porch to light a cigarette before seeing a soft pink light radiating from your porch. then he saw you, sat in a porch swing in a large crewneck and pajama pants that once again, hid your body from view. you were just looking at the setting sun while eating a salad that looked absolutely fucking disgusting to him. don’t get him wrong, he didn’t mind salads, but you were practically eating grass. it was a mess of shaved carrots, corn, lettuce, and kale with ranch on top. there was absolutely no way that was satisfying to you and he could see the way you picked at it as if you didn’t really want it. when you noticed him looking at you, your heart dropped upon seeing his stare. he looked as if he was going to say one of the many, many, self deprecating phrases you’d grown used to hearing, whether it be that you needed that salad or that it was good a pig like you was laying off the calories. you were unmoving as you watched his lips curl into a smile, preparing yourself for the worst.

“pink porch lights?”

you went from being scared to confused before remembering the led lightbulb you had bought and smiled. “yeah.” you nod. you were.. surprised he hadn’t made a comment, most men did. but just because he didn’t, it didn’t mean your guard was down. you set your salad aside, not wanting to eat until he went inside.

“it’s cute, love. fits you nice.” he hums. “is it your favorite color?”

“oh my god—yes.” you laugh, not being able to keep yourself from yapping. “love everything to do with it. it’s just so pretty and people say it’s basic—but, like, can you blame me?” as soon as the sentence fell from your lips, you felt stupid. it’s not like he cared or was interested.

but yet again, he surprised you.

“not at all. ‘s a cute color, no matter how basic.” he responds. “let me guess, you got about twenty pink plushies?”

you laugh, “actually it’s forty six.” you like that he’s not shaming you and for a second, you can feel your walls begin to crumble before you build them back up.

“you consider that a lot or a little?” ghost’s question is phrased that way on purpose, trying to figure out what you thought was too old through your amount of stuffed animals. he was forty six and he’d be lying if he said he wouldn’t be disappointed if you said you thought forty six was a lot.

“a little. i have forty six that are pink and thirty-two that are other colors.” you chuckled, the sweet sound going right to ghost’s dick.

“that’s funny, i’m forty six.” he wants to laugh, but he’s too busy watching your reaction. wanting to see if you recoiled in disgust or gave him an odd look, but you didn’t. instead, you smiled. “what’s it like being old?” you teased.

“hey,” he feigns hurt as he leans over the banister to look at you. “ ‘m not old.”

“oh, you’re totally old!” you snicker.

“how old are you then?” ghost can’t bite back his smile as he watches you place your hands into your lap, your face almost glistening in the warm glow of the setting sun and the pale light coming from the rising moon. “twenty six.”

“maybe i am old.” he shakes his head and doesn’t miss the way you laugh. you’re so sweet, so perfect, so… pure.

god, he wants ruin you.

he looks over at your salad then back at you. “love, can i say something?”

your heat quickens again and you once again prepare for the worst.

“your salad. it looks like absolute shit. why not get a pizza or somethin’?” was he silently hoping you’d agree so he could “conveniently” say he had one on the oven right now and invite you in? absolutely.

meanwhile, the comment once again left you confused. you didn’t really understand it. you were used to people telling you to eat better, not.. worse. they often told you that you needed salads, not pizza. you didn’t really know how to respond and you couldn’t stop the soft “what?” that slipped past your lips.

“i said, why don’t you get a pizza or somethin’? veggies are good or whatever, but, c’mom, kale?” he repeats.

“are you serious?” you mumble, your expression unreadable. you weren’t mad, you were just..confused. you didn’t understand what he was saying or why he wasn’t acting like everyone else. his words, his kind words almost made you uncomfortable because they weren’t what you were used to.

ghost’s face dropped. “shit, ‘m sorry, love. it doesn’t matter what you eat—i mean—if you want a salad, that’s okay—i was just saying that—“ he cuts himself off, feeling rather stupid for even opening your mouth or commenting on your eating habits. he was a confident man, almost egotistical, but the sight of your face made his heart drop and his lips curl into a frown. he hadn’t meant to hurt you.

“no—no, it’s okay.” you say all too quickly, not liking the way a frown looked on his face. “it’s just—“ you trail off, debating on whether you should open up to the man. he hadn’t said anything but that didn’t mean he was like the others, but at the same time, it would be nice to finally get it out.

however, you couldn’t bring yourself to tear down your walls, so you shook your head and put on your best smile. “it’s nothing. you didn’t upset me.” you confirm, and although ghost doesn’t believe you, he doesn’t question it when you stand up and grab your salad. “i’m gonna head in. have a nice night..” you tail off, not having gotten his name yet.

“simon.” he speaks. “and you too..” he trails off and you smile before giving him your name and heading inside.

𐙚 ⋆˚.⋆

the next morning, you find a large bouquet of different colored tulips along with a strawberry smoothie and a box of chocolate chip cookies. you look down at your them before seeing the note tucked into the bouquet.

‘i’m sorry for commenting on your salad, love. i didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable or upset you. i hope this doesn’t make things weird between us and i hope you’re okay with strawberries and chocolate chip cookies. - simon.”

the smile that creeps up on your face is one that’s uncontrollable. your body heats up and it’s not because you’re wearing a baggy long sleeve and sweatpants in 80 degree weather. the gesture was kind. the kindest thing anyone had ever done for you and even said to you. though he hadn’t made you uncomfortable, his fear of doing so was.. nice. it had been years since someone was so afraid to upset you. people normally didn’t care how you felt and it showed in their cruel comments on your body. you picked up the bouquet and set them into a soft pink vase before looking at the smoothie and cookies. the guilt that came with eating was one that crippled you, terrified you, but as you sipped on the sugary drink and bit into the soft cookie, you allowed yourself to smile a bit.

when you had your fill, you stepped outside and approached his porch, your hand hesitantly going to knock on the door until it opened to reveal ghost in a black compression shirt with grey sweatpants. the shirt hugged his muscles tightly, showing off his large biceps and his toned abdomen that you were incredibly jealous of. His hair was messy and almost covered his eyes that widened when he saw you. “hey.” he hummed.

you opened your mouth to speak, but it was as if your brain had short circuited. you felt the pulse in your sweatpants as you cleared your throat. “hey.”

ghost didn’t miss the way you blushed and moistened your lips with your pink tongue. “thanks for the flowers and stuff.” your voice sounds like a whisper as you grumble under the man’s gaze, feeling small and not only because you were, but because no matter how badly you wanted him, you knew it wouldn’t happen because of your weight.

“no need to thank me, love. ‘m sorry for what i said about your salad.” he sighs.

“simon, really, it’s not your fault. it’s me.” you speak out, deciding that you won’t let him feel bad for your issues when he hasn’t done anything. he quirks an eyebrow that silently asks you to elaborate, and so you do.

you sigh before speaking. “look, i don’t have the best relationship with my body. people have said mean things and i—i dunno. what you said was probably the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

“me telling you to eat a pizza rather than a salad is the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to you?” he blinks in disbelief before shaking his head. “no. that’s just not true.”

you chuckle a little as he stares down at you. “there is just no way that’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said of you.”

“i know, i know. it’s funny.”

“funny?!” he gasps. “love, that is sad. not funny.”

you’re now confused. you’re so used to the negative comments that though they hurt you, you didn’t really see them as negative anymore. “what—“ but he doesn’t let you speak.

“no one’s ever told you how beautiful you are? how pretty? how—“

you cut him off, once again becoming aware of the pudgy stomach hiding beneath your oversized shirt. “no.” you say all too quickly and ghost is genuinely surprised. “that is just wrong, dollface.”

you chuckle, the sound ringing in ghost’s ears as he bites back the urge to reach out for you. you look back towards your house and sigh. “anyways, i just wanted to say thanks. so thanks.” smiling, you turn on your heel and walk away, which makes ghost pout. he wants to talk to you more, to hear you laugh, to see you smile, but all he does is smile back at you as you step into your house and close your door.

𐙚 ⋆˚.⋆

it doesn’t take long before the two of you become close. when you come home from work, he’s outside smoking a cigarette and he waits until you step back out for your normal salad-by-the-sunset dinner and you both talk. when he gets to know you, he can’t help but fall deeper into his obsession with you. you’re so.. talkative. and he loves it. it doesn’t matter what he brings up, you’ll find a way to make it sound like the most interesting thing you’ve heard in years. you’re so much more bubbly than you appear at first glance. you’re fully of smiles, laughs, giggles. he loves the way you get so passionate when talking about one of your interests, whether it be your new car decorations, tim burton movies, your love for music, he wanted to hear it all. there was nothing better than sitting outside with you for hours and talking about absolutely nothing and everything at the same time. he started to leave the curtains to his living room open, waiting for the pink porch light that signaled you were outside.

and you felt the same. of course, ghost was attractive and all, but he was so kind to you. he didn’t seem to get sick of you the way others had. for the first time in a long time, you felt seen, heard, and understood. of course, you still hid your body from him, knowing that no matter how many hours you spent awake talking, how he’d always rush out to his porch when you’d turn on the porch light, how he’d constantly let pet names ranging from angel to my dear slip past his laps, your body would be the thing to drive him away.

it’s six in the morning and you’re dressed in a white tank top that emphasizes the body you hate. your stomach protrudes and your chest is heavy, the flab of your arms visible even when they aren’t resting at your side. the shorts you wear do little to hide your fat thighs that have no gap between them, your flesh rubbing together as you look out of your curtains to look at the driveway to simon’s house. you knew better than to go out dressed like this when he’s home and when you don’t see his car in the driveway, you let out a gentle sigh of relief. it’s reached an all time high of a hundred degrees and the want to not overheat overwhelms the need to cover yourself up. when you know he’s not home, you open your front door and head to the mailbox, humming gently as you grab the letters and subconsciously look up at simon’s house, only to see him standing there with an agape mouth.

he wasn’t supposed to be home.

his car was gone, so why was he here?

you freeze under his gaze, your skin now feeling like a prison you so badly wanted to crawl out of and hide. you know he’s seen you and you can’t help the tears that brims your eyes as you rush inside and shut the door without even saying hi.

simon’s awestruck, but not because he’s disgusted. far from it actually.

he’s in love.

hes fucking sure of it.

he saw the way your plump stomach showed through the tank top that did little to hide just how large your chest was. your thighs were full and plush, jiggling with your every step when you’d so quickly rushed inside. you’re beautiful, so fucking beautiful. he’s almost certain that he’s going to faint, his head and mind fuzzy as he recalls the way your plump curves looked in the tight clothes he’d never seen before. when you’d hid your body from him, he hadn’t understood why and he still didn’t. there was simply no way you could be ashamed of curves as perfect as yours. every stretch mark that lined your chest, every bit of cellulite on your thighs, every dip in your body was perfect. the thought that you could possibly be embarrassed of a body like that doesn’t make any sense to him. he wasn’t a picky man, but he always preferred his women with more meat on their bones, mostly because of his terrible groping habit. he loved feeling their plump flesh in his large hands and he loves it even more when despite how big his hands are, he still can’t manage to grab all of it.

he wants to comfort you, but the older man simply goes inside, shuts his door, and wraps his fingers around his cock while he replays the image in his mind. he knows he should check on you because you were definitely crying when you’d run inside, but right now, all that matters to him is trying to ensure his cock wouldn’t stand at attention when he did go to your door. he wants to squeeze you, to feel your soft skin beneath his fingers and the thought of watching your ass recoil as he fucks into you is what makes him cum in a shamefully quick amount of time. when he’s cleaned himself up, he knocks on your door, but you don’t answer. you pretend to not hear him as you sob into your plushies, thinking you’d just ruined your friendship with the only man who was ever kind to you when in reality, he couldn’t be more obsessed with you.

when he connects the dots that the only reason you felt comfortable enough to collect your mail in that attire was because you thought he wasn’t home, he simply heads back inside. though he cannot wrap his head around why you’re embarrassed, he knows you are and he knows that for right now, you’re entirely too ashamed to face him. so he waits.

it takes an entire week for you to pull yourself together and grab the mail once more, the black hoodie that you’re wearing covers you entirely as well as your sweatpants in the way you’re comfortable with, but you’re still not comfortable. you’re still ashamed, and you’re still embarrassed which makes it so much worse when ghost comes out of his house and calls out to you. when he senses that you’re going to run inside, he steps off of his porch and moves to stand infront of you, the black wifebeater he’s wearing emphasizing his biceps as he looks at you. “wait.” he speaks, his voice gentle as you sigh.

“don’t.” you repeat to him. “don’t—just don’t.”

he quirks an eyebrow.

“dollface—“

“simon, i know what i am, okay? been hearing it my whole life and id rather not right now. i dont want to hear how i need a salad, how im fat, how absolutely disgusting my body is. ive heard it all and i really, really dont want to hear it from you.” you breathe out, trying your best not to cry.

he looks absolutely bewildered.

“people say that?”

“don’t be coy.” you fail at your attempt to not cry, tears slipping down your cheeks. “seriously, simon. i’m fat and i know that’s unattractive to absolutely everyone. i’m a pig, im well aware of it and i know that it’s completely ruined things—“

“love.”

“and i’m sorry that i didn’t tell you soon enough. i know you’d never be romantically interested in me—like, ever—but it was still wrong for me to mislead you like that.” you’re sobbing now, your lower lip trembling.

ghost is pissed.

absolutely fucking fuming for more reasons than one. not only had people made you think you were less, made you think that you weren’t anything short of absolutely perfect, but you thought your weight would upset him. people had gotten in your pretty little head and convinced you that you not revealing your weight to them at the start was misleading when it was truly your choice and when you made the choice to, they shamed you?

and you thought the body he so badly wanted in his arms deterred him?

he was a grown man, not a boy.

the fact that for your entire life, people had been commenting on your weight, on the love handles he wanted to grab, the stomach he wanted to mark and kiss all over, the tits he wanted to grab and suck on until you pushed him away, made him damn near murderous. you truly believed that your weight drove him away when it was what made him all the more attracted to you. you were so kind, so.. bubbly and cheery. everything about you had sucked him in from day one and the longer he heard you talk shit about yourself, the more upset he became. for the entire week you hid yourself away from him, he replayed that memory hour after hour, constantly having to jerk off to keep himself at bay. the pain that came from his constant need to touch himself at the mere thought of you turned into a pleasure that only increased his need for you.

“love.” he says louder, stopping your tear-induced rambles. he so badly wants to tell you how he’s called out your name while touching his cock, but he knows it’s not the time or place, so instead, he places a hand on your shoulder. “your weight doesn’t scare me.” he reassures. “you’re beautiful, dollface. that was the first thing i thought when i saw you. you are absolutely gorgeous and there is absolutely no need to hide from me.”

his reassurance only makes you sob harder. you couldn’t understand why he was being so kind to you. it was so much easier to hear people say mean things about you that coming to terms with him not being at all disgusted by you almost made you lightheaded. “simon—“

“i’m serious, angel. ‘m never going to judge you for your body nor do i think ‘s gross. you’re my friend and your weight does not and will not change that.” he speaks firmly but gently, trying to get his words to stick and he smiles when you nod and wipe your eyes. he looks at the parcel in your hands and smiles, pointing down at it. “that the new pink cutlery you were tellin’ me about?”

“oh my god, yes!”

and just like that, your crying stops and your stood going on and on about how the pink utensils would match perfectly with the white plates and bowls you’d ordered a few months ago. he lets you talk and talk and talk, just smiling like an absolute idiot, your voice a symphony he’d pay any amount of money to hear more of.

over the next month, you no longer hide from him. you have your late night porch talks while wearing tank tops and shorts, the salads still your choice of dinner, but your comparability with him seeing your body growing. each time you come out and he didn’t comment on your body makes your heart swell and despite other girls seeing it as the bare minimum, you adored it. it’d been so long since you were so comfortable and you have ghost for thank for it. of course, your feelings for him only grow but you know better than to act on them. you know he doesn’t mind your body as a friend, but you knew that if he’d ever seen you undressed, it would change his mind.

or so you thought.

𐙚 ⋆˚.⋆

“no, no, no!” you pout at your ac that’s finally given out. it’s early august and it’s been uncomfortably hot. your ac is what keeps you sane and now it wasn’t working. “please!” you beg the object that refuses to turn back on before flopping onto your couch as heat floods in. at first, you think you can withstand it but after twenty minutes, you’re knocking on ghost’s door.

he answers and smiles at you. “hey, love—“

he’s surprised when you push past him upon feeling the cold flow of air coming from his air conditioner and enter his house, letting out a satisfied groan. “my ac is busted and my new one isn’t coming in until tomorrow. sorry for intruding, but i’m hot.”

“yes you are.” he mumbles under his breath as he shuts his door. it’s the first time you’ve been in ghost’s house and you like how overall simplistic it is. it fits him. you sit on his couch and hum. he stares at the way your arms and collarbones are exposed in the short sleeved, off the shoulder shirt that’s a bit baggy, covering the stomach he adores so much. he can see the stretch marks that lead down to your covered chest and he curses himself for thinking such impure thoughts about such a pure person. the white shorts you’re wearing do little to cover the stretch marks and cellulite on your thighs and he has to bite his lip to keep from moaning out at the sight.

you are so fucking beautiful.

“hungry, love?” he asks after clearing his throat.

“a salad would be nice.”

“no.”

you look over at him with a raised eyebrow. “huh?”

he chuckles and opens his fridge, grabbing two water bottles. “i know how much you like your rabbit food, but in my house, you’re eating a meal that doesn’t consist of lettuce and carrots.”

“but—“

“been watching you eat salads all summer, angel. let’s get some real food in you, yeah?”

it’s a simple gesture, another reminder that ghost doesn’t care about your body and he couldn’t care less about your weight and it shouldn’t make your pussy throb the way it does.

you watch as he opens his fridge and grabs some fruits. “know you like eatin’ healthy, so i’ll make you a side of fruits, that okay?”

“that’s okay.” you nod, watching him slice the tops of your strawberries before he cuts them into little hearts and cuts your pineapple into triangles. he’s so.. careful, wanting each shape to be perfect. when he’s done, he tosses the heart shaped strawberries, star shaped pineapples, and kiwi cubes into the bowl. it’s cute that he remembered how cute you think shaped foods are despite telling him about it months ago and you smile as he hands you the bowl and goes back into the kitchen to make you a bacon, egg, and cheese on a bagel. it’s still early morning so it’s fitting for the time and when he hands it to you, you don’t feel an ounce of guilt simply at the way it melts on your tongue. it puts your rabbit food, or salads, to absolute shame.

“thank you.”

“no need to thank me.” he sits beside you, some distance between you two so he can keep himself at bay and not touch you the way he wants to. you look so gorgeous when you’re truly enjoying your food and if seeing the way you happily lick your lips and smile at him means he’d have to make your every meal to keep you away from salads, that’s what he would do.

you spend a few hours just talking, like usual, before it gets late and you prepare to head back to your house, which ghost pouts at and stops you.

“where you goin’?” he frowns.

“ghost, i’ve gotta go back home.” you chuckle. “i’ve been here all day and i don’t wanna intrude more than i already have.”

“you’re not intruding.” he speaks as he stands and reaches out to hold your wrists. “your ac isn’t working and it’s 100 degrees outside, just stay the night.”

you raise an eyebrow. “you—you sure?”

“yeah.” he nods. “we can watch a movie and i can order whatever you like for dinner—“ he pauses. “as long as it’s not a salad.”

you laugh and agree, sitting back down as he hands you the remote. “here, you pick a movie and ‘m gonna go take a shower.”

he leaves and you settle on some random romcom, scrolling through your phone as you wait for him to shower, trying to distract your mind from imagining him under the shower head, water trickling down his perfectly sculpted body. before you know it, your hands are circling over your clothed clit as you cover your mouth, your eyes shut. you feel so dirty, so fucking dirty. ghost is none the wiser as you’re sat there, an orgasm building while you imagine the way he looks, the way his cock looks, how big you think he is.

when you hear footsteps, you stop, despite not being able to cum as ghost enters the room in just a towel, his hair wet and clinging to his face while the towel did little to hide his ever so perfect v-line. in those moments, you wished you’d lost all the weight you wanted so he’d actually be attracted to you, but you bite back your thoughts.

ghost, on the other hand, knew exactly what he was doing. and he knew exactly what you were doing. he couldn’t miss it. the imagine of you sat on his couch, your fingers over your shorts and circling your clit burnt into his brain. he wants to comment on it, but he knows that he shouldn’t. so he doesn’t.

you both settle on ordering tacos for dinner and when he’s done getting dressed, he sits beside you in his loose grey sweatpants and white wifebeater. his hair is still slightly wet, but it doesn’t bother him as he grabs a throw blanket and tosses it over the both of you as you press play on the movie, which is incredibly stupid. you spend the entire hour just laughing and making fun of the movie before it ends and your food arrives.

“you okay with horror, gorgeous?” he asks as he sits back down and hands you your tacos. you shrug gently. you weren’t the biggest horror fan because you were easily scared and often had to watch cartoons to ease your mind, but he was nice enough to let you stay the night so you wanted to repay him in any way you could. when he presses play, you notice how he hands you two extra tacos you don’t remember asking him to order. he doesn’t speak, he just sets them down on your plate and acts as if he hadn’t, his eyes on the tv in front of you two. the lights are off, per his insistence to make it ‘scarier’ and you can’t lie, it does increase your fear.

halfway through, you’re both done eating and the movie is reaching it’s climax (like you would be, very, very soon.)

you hadn’t noticed how close you’d scooted to simon until there’s a jump scare that makes you jolt, your hands reaching out to wrap themselves around his large biceps as you hide your face in his skin. when you realize what you’re done, you go to pull away but he shakes his head. “‘s okay, love.”

so you cling to him every single time something scares you and he couldn’t be more thrilled. he knew exactly what he was doing when he’d chosen this movie and he knew exactly how you’d both end up. as you hide your face behind his bicep, pulls it away and instead wraps it around you, pulling you closer.

you don’t mind it and for the first time, you can smell his cologne and the way your cunt throbs is sinful. he was your friend. you may have attracted to him but he wasn’t attracted to you.

when the movie ends, you insist on turning on barbie to calm your racing mind and he agrees. you get to talking and simon takes the chance to try to understand why you’re so insecure.

“love,” he speaks. “if you don’t mind me asking, why does your body bother you so much?”

it’s a sensitive topic and usually it would bother you, but you know simon and you’ve grown so close that you open up rather easily. “i dunno. it didn’t really bother me when i was a kid because i thought it would stop but it didn’t. guys are pretty mean when you’re not their ideal type.” you snort the last part bitterly. “but i can’t blame them. i’m not what anyone wants. i used to blame the guys but, i dunno, i guess i came to terms with me just being fat and i hid myself away to keep anyone from saying anything.”

“really?” he hums.

“yeah. it’s the reason i moved here but it had been happening long before that.” you sigh. “it’s not easy, but i got used to it. my weight drives everyone away. i’m surprised it hasn’t did the same for you.”

ghost was so tired. every single time you talked down on yourself he fought the urge to show you just how fucking gorgeous you were and instead hoped you’d realize it, but you hadn’t, and he knew he now needed to give you that extra push.

“love, do you think i’m not attracted to you?”

you laugh. loudly. fully thinking that he was joking before you see his serious expression. “oh, you’re being serious?” you hum. “of course you’re not, simon. i mean—look at you! you have so many abs and your biceps are huge. you’re fit. there’s absolutely no chance you could ever be attracted to me. i’m a pig.”

“hm.” he hums before hands grab your jaw and he brings his lips to yours, not giving you a single ounce of room to pull away. at first, you’re confused. you don’t understand why he’s kissing you but you quickly become thankful that he is because you think it’ll never happen again, so you lean into it, your lips moving with his as he lets out a moan into your lips. “so tired of hearin’ that shit.” he whispers out as he moves to kiss at your neck.

“what?”

“always sayin’ that you’re fat and ugly and whatever the fuck.” he continues on. “you’re so fuckin’ pretty. don’t know how you don’t see it.” his teeth are on your neck and he’s sucking on your skin as if he was afraid you’d pull away, but he soon did. “stand up.” he instructs, and so you do.

he placed his hands on the underside of your thighs, gesturing you to jump, but you shake your head. “simon, i’m too heavy—“

he groans in pure annoyance before he picks you up, his strong arms not buckling once under your weight as he carries you to his bedroom. “heavy my ass. you’re lighter than a feather, love.” his hands grab at your ass and he absolutely loves how it fails to grab all of the plush flesh.

it shouldn’t make your pussy as wet as it does but it’s so.. hot to see this man carrying you around when you’d worried that no one would ever be able to. he sets you onto his bed gently and sits besides you, his hands going to the end of your shirt before you stop him.

“simon. i—i can’t.” you whisper, your embarrassment overwhelming your need for him. “you won’t like it—“

he wants to tell you he will, that he knows he will, but he knows his words haven’t worked so far, so he instead rips your shirt into two as he mutters a promise of ‘i’ll buy you a new one’. you gasp as your plump stomach is exposed to him, the way the pudge turns into rolls because you’re sat and he can see every bit of your stretch marks. your bra was on, as were your shorts, but you feel so exposed, as if you’re naked. he’s silent, just staring at you and you’re about to start crying when he whispers one single thing.

“perfect.”

it falls from his lips so easily, as if he’s thought it to himself time and time again. he can’t keep himself at bay anymore and he lets every single dirty thought he’s had about you roam through his head as he gently pushes you down and his hands explore the extra fat on your body. “so fucking perfect.” he groans aloud, squeezing your skin. he buries his face in your tummy and kisses at the soft skin. “can’t believe you’ve hid this from me for so long, love. so pretty, my god.”

it’s as if the man is drunk on you. his words are slurred and his eyes are hazy as he babbles out a variety of compliments before looking up at you. “off. off.” he pouts as he moves his hands to your bra, sloppily pulling it off and throwing it somewhere in the room before marveling at your heavy tits, the way they fall out of your bra is downright fucking sinful and he can’t help but marvel at their size. they’re so big, so soft, and so fucking warm. he wastes no time sucking on your puffy pink nipples as you moan beneath him. you don’t understand why he’s so obsessed with your body, why he’s not deterred, why he’s not disgusted with you. it seems that he’s absolutely infatuated with your every roll, your every stretch mark, every bit of cellulite.

his hands are groping your tits and he doesn’t care that they don’t fit into them. you notice how he becomes more.. sloppy. how he’s not trying to stay clean as spit drips down your nipples and his chin and he’s rutting into absolutely nothing before he lets out a low moan. his body is shuddering and you can see his cock twitching in his sweats along with the wet patch that follows suit. he pushes his face into your soft tummy and whimpers into the skin, squirming beneath you in a way that makes your cunt wetter than it had ever been before.

“did you just—“ you stutter out when he pulls away and pants. “simon, did you just cum in your pants?”

“couldn’t help it. ‘m sorry.” he whimpers out before he sits up. “more. more. i need more of you. now.” he’s ravenous as he pulls your shorts and panties off before looking at your pussy. it’s so plump, so pretty. your clit is swollen and your arousal coats the entirety of your ever so perfect cunt. he eats you like a man starved, his tongue lapping up everything you give him without a care in the world. you can’t help it as you close your thighs around his head before pulling away and apologizing, which only makes him eat you with more fervor.

“put ‘em back.” he whispers.

“simon, i don’t—fuck!—i don’t wanna hurt you.”

so he takes it upon himself to grab your thighs and push them around his head, effectively trapping him between them as he eats your pussy like a madman. you’re moaning, your hands are in his hair and you’re tugging at it so hard you’re afraid you might be hurting him, but he doesn’t care. he doesn’t care at all. he wants to make your mind so fucking soupy and mushy that you can’t help but agree to his every compliment, which is why he draws three orgasms out of you. you’re sobbing, your cunt so sensitive that you’re sure you’re going to die until he finally pulls away. you think it’s finally over until he looks up at you. “sit on my face, c’mon love.” it’s a test. he wants to see if he’s dumbed you down enough to make you agree to put your full weight on him without worry that he’ll be disgusted or that you’ll hurt him. and when you mutter through broken sobs that you’ll crush him, he sighs.

“gettin’ real sick of this ‘i’ll crush you’ shit.” he grumbles as he lays on his back and pulls you up before sitting you down on his face, his arms holding you down tightly to keep you from even thinking of pulling away. you yelp out, only getting wetter at the fact that simon is doing absolutely fine despite your weight. you’re not suffocating him, you’re not hurting him. in fact, he’s relishing in the feel of your plump thighs around his face and fat cunt in his mouth.

“simon!” you cry out. “can’t—i can’t! ‘s too much.” it had been so long since you came this much and so hard. your insecurities often stopped you from touching yourself and the jump from rarely having an orgasm once a month to almost four in a single night was melting your mind to absolute mush.

“‘s never too much, baby. you can take it.” he purrs from beneath you, sucking on your clit before his tongue finds its way inside of your hole before he pulls back to moan into your cunt. “jus’ as warm as i thought it would be.”

his words are going in one ear and out the other, the sensitivity and your overstimulation driving you absolutely insane.

“touched myself to you so many times. had to jerk off every hour to keep myself sane.” he whispers and when he notices you’re too wrapped up in your head to respond, he smiles. “cum on my face, baby. i’ve got you.”

and so you do, for the fourth time, your pussy contacts on his tongue and you let out a strangled sob as he cleans you up and rubs small circles onto the sides of your chubby thighs. when he releases your thighs, you sit up a bit and he takes the opportunity to slide two fingers into your cunt while his other hand squeezes your tits. “my girls are so pretty. so plump and full.” he groped you shamelessly as he plunges his fingers in and out of you until you cum on his fingers, your arousal dripping down in a way that drives him mad as he brings them to his lips.

you’re about to tell him you can’t take much more when he looks up at you. “think you can take my cock?”

and your energy has been reinstated.

“on your knees, c’mon love.” he instructs helping you up and pushing an arch into your back as he looks at your ass that’s just so big and so fucking soft, he can’t help himself as he slaps it. he’s about to apologize when he hears the moan that leaves your mouth. “oh?” he quips as he spanks your ass once again. “you like that, love?”

you nod and normally he’d want words, but he’s so close to frying your brain that he doesn’t ask for them. can’t have his pretty, dumb baby thinking now, can he? no, that’d be horrible. she’d start spewing shit about how she wasn’t pretty enough and he would have to start alllllll over again.

when he slides into you, the moan that leaves his lips is loud and absolutely shameless. “my god, you’re so warm.” his hands grab your hips. “so fuckin’ soft.” and with that, he’s pulling you off and on his cock, your wetness coating his shaft as you moan loudly. youre squeezing him so tightly, as if you’re afraid he’d pull away and he loves it so much. when he slows to draw the encounter out, you whine and begin to move yourself, the feel of his cock inside you driving your movements. ghost watches in pure lust as your ass bounces whenever it collides with his lower abdomen and he moans. “fuck yourself back on my cock, baby. that’s it.”

and so you do.

at this point, you’re doing everything he tells you.

when you get tired and your movements slow, he takes over one again, leaning forward and using his bicep to almost choke you as he lifts your head from the sheets you’d been burying your head in. he loves feeling your tears drip onto his arms. he hates when you cry in general but when it’s because of how good you feel, he relishes in it. “let it out, love. sob for me.”

and you do, your cries a mix of moans, whimpers, and strangled sobs as simon moans into your ear and occasionally leans down to bite your neck. “so pretty. so fucking pretty.”

“si—mon.” his name claws its way up your throat as your eyes roll back. “close, close.” you can barely form sentences and simon coos at you. “i know, baby, but not yet. came so many times, you can wait a little.”

“‘s too much! can’t.” your hands are clawing the sheets and your legs are struggling to keep you upright.

“‘s okay, baby. ‘m right here. you’re okay, i’ve got you.” he speaks to you so sweetly, which doesn’t match the roughness of his thrusts. “such a dumb girl to think i couldn’t love a body like this. my silly, dumb, girl.”

“but—“

“shh. don’t think. just feel good, baby.” he hums as his hands move back to grab your hips and pull you back onto his cock. his tip is pressing against your cervix and you love the pain it brings, the way it turns to a pleasure you’re certain only he can bring.

then he pulls away.

“no—no, no, no.” you sob hysterically, needing more, needing to cum, needing him.

“‘m not stopping, baby. jus’ need you to lay on your back.” he whispers as you turn to face him. he kisses away your tears as his hands grab at your pudgy tummy. “see all this?” he looks down at your stomach as you nod. “i love it. never wanna hear you say you think i don’t ever again. love grabbing it, love lookin’ at it, love feelin’ it in my hands.” he chuckles as he grabs at your fat. “see how it doesn’t even fit into my hands? so fuckin’ sexy.”

when you smile and whisper out a soft “really?” he knows he’s finally done it. finally dumbed you down enough to fill your pretty little head with whatever he wanted. and so when he has you lay back and pushes you into a mating press, he gets real close to you, watching the way you pout as you cry and beg for more, but he doesn’t give it to you. he’s deliberately slow for many reasons that become apparent when he speaks. “tell me, love, who’s the prettiest girl in the world?”

“more.” you cry out, but he shakes his head. “not until you answer me, love.”

“me.” you mewl, and he speeds up, smiling down at you. “that’s right, baby. who’s absolutely fucking perfect?”

“me—fuck!”

“that’s it. never wanna hear you talk down on yourself. you’re so sexy, so beautiful. ‘m obsessed with you and your body and ‘m gonna pump you full of my cum so you don’t forget it.”

you moan lowly, your cunt squeezing him tightly and he knows you’re close, so he keeps it up. “silly girl was so sure i wouldn’t like her cause of her weight, as if.” he scoffs before he whimpers and lowers his head. “so much for me to grab, to taste, to love.”

“close.” you breathe out, but you notice how the pressure that builds up in your stomach is more.. intense. your cunt is clenching around him as if trying to stop him from moving, as if trying to lower the intensity of this knot building in you.

“not gonna let you cum until you tell me how pretty you are—nghh—“ he’s cut off by a moan and his thrusts grow sloppy and he’s whimpering out into the air.

“‘m pretty.” you say through broken sobs. “‘m so pretty. fucking perfect the way i am.” and you actually believe the words slipping from your lips. you truly feel pretty.

“yeah you are—fuck!” he cries out. “can’t hold on much longer. too perfect, too pretty.” he buries his face into your tits, licking and sucking at any skin you gave him access to. he’s obsessed with you. absolutely infatuated with you. and he’s gonna make sure you don’t forget it.

suddenly, you jolt and sit up, the scream that slipped from your lips echoing throughout the otherwise quiet house as you cum. hard. harder than you ever fucking have in your life. your mind goes blank and fuzzy and your vision goes hazy as you slump back and yell out different cries of his name. you don’t even realize you’re squirting on him until you re-open your eyes and see the mess you’re currently making. it’s splashing on your thighs, your tummy that he loves so much, the bed, and simon himself.

“oh my fucking god.” he whimpers into your ear. the way he’s rutting into you is shameful and he feels like a virgin who’s eager to get his fill. “fuck, fuck.” he’s whining, he’s whimpering, he’s an utter fucking mess and god, does he love it. “gonna cum in you, is that okay?” his words are rushed because he knows he can’t hold on any longer and though he said he was gonna fill you, he wants to make sure you’re okay with it, so when you nod, he whimpers out your name and he gives you one final thrust as he fills you to the brim, your walls squeezing him so tight you can feel his cum ooze around the spongy spot inside of you that makes you cum and squirt on his cock once again. he doesn’t dare pull out until he’s certain you’re done, not wanting it anywhere but all over him.

when he pulls himself out, he moans softly at the sight of his seed dripping out of you before he takes his thumb and pushes it back in, eliciting a low moan from you.

you’d never felt so beautiful in your fucking life.

“c’mere, gorgeous.” he whispers, capturing you in the softest of kisses as his thumbs wipe away your tears while you sniffle. when he pulls away he strokes your hair and smiles at you. “don’t even ask if this is a one time thing. ‘s not. gonna fuck you until you truly see how pretty you are.”

you aren’t disgusted with yourself for the first time in a long time and when he moves to lay behind you, spooning your body as his hand squeezes your tummy, you smile lazily and lean into the touch, not feeling a single ounce of shame for your weight and simon loves it. you were so soft and warm, how could he possibly not?