soft pregnancy sex with Simon maybe 😋😋😋 (i love ur work sm, I followed recently and I’m devouring it)
The way this man would be the gentlest person alive while ur pregnant..
Simon had never envisioned his future beyond the field. After the death of his own family and the continuous torture from his Father, starting his own was never a playing card.
Especially not with someone like you.
You were this pure form of light, always happy and carrying around a gorgeous smile like it was second nature. You were every part of him he wished he could be, and maybe that’s why you both worked so well.
You were Simon’s blessing in disguise. The person who taught him that it was okay to be vulnerable and express innocence, that he didn’t need to keep his guard up. The Lieutenant’s love for you was evident through every slight movement, whether he was standing next to you in line, towering over anyone who dared to glance at you too long, whether it was him carrying every single grocery bag, or whether it was him writing you sloppy love letters before he went away.
Simon also showed his love for you through touch, a gentle caress of your thigh turning into his tongue, lapping at your nectar before he was splitting you open, pussy clenching around his staggering size as your breath choked between your airways (that was the night you got pregnant).
Now you were 5 months, your belly plush and swell, breasts tender and heavy as your lower back ached with a dull ring. It was impossible for Simon to leave you alone, his hands always on you, rubbing, touching, groping. How could he not? You were so full and round with his child.
You were always so compliant, so gentle with the way you spoke as your thighs wrapped around his head needily, clit throbbing with anticipation as you gagged on the pure lust that leaked from your pores.
“Si –“ you would squeak out, gushing endlessly as he toyed with your eager cunt, pussy drooling at every subtle lick he gave it.
The man was breathless, growling into you with fervour as he slurped, grinding his wet muscles into your folds. He was a starved man, always in want of you. Simon pulled away, taking in the flushed sight of you, your belly nice and round, your tits achy with every movement, nipples perkier under the temperature as he groaned, your face glazed with the dewy complexion of beauty.
His hands were by your head, soft kisses delicately trailing across your face as you giggled, leaky tip lined up at your weeping entrance before he nestled into your walls, instantly hissing at your tightness.
“Pussy’s so tight for me, m’ perfect girl, so f’cking gorgeous.”
He was so slow, trailing his cock through every crevice inside you, feeling every ridge and texture that greeted him before he nudged against your sweet spot, your eyes wide with pleasure, and your lips coiled into a tight ‘o’. His thrusts were gentle, allowing you to milk his cock with every push and pull as you whined into the still of the night, the subtle paint of moonlight reflecting onto you both.
He was careful, groping your tits as he rolled your buds between calloused fingers, enjoying the way you cooed at him before he would lean down, biting at the lobe of your ear as he rocked his hips into you.
It was perfect like this. You were perfect.
Simon enjoyed taking his time, letting your pussy cry around him as a hand lazily rubbed at your delicate nub, pushing against it with slight pressure as full balls grazed the fat of your ass. It was his favourite sight as he watched you come undone, thighs locking up before release before your head was thrown back, eyes flushed with ivory as you gripped onto him, his cock pressed against your cervix before his own release followed, his cum littering your walls as you sighed, pulling him in for a kiss.
Summary - DOD contracted civilian is perfectly confident and brooks no nonsense at work, but when she hooks up with Simon not knowing it's Ghost, he gets whiplash seeing her other side.
"Sir, I'm not the one drawing up the CONOPs, and even if I was, arguing with me would not change any of the things outlined in them."
Ghost could hear her from his office across the hall; prickly and stern. A platoon leader from another section had come in about 5 minutes ago, guns blazing and irritation tainting the peaceful vibe of your space, demanding to speak with whoever put out "-That bullshit order to the distro." Ghost heard you try to be amicable at first, only to then get steamrolled by the captain in your office. He considered shutting his door. It was irritating listening to the prick complain, but the satisfaction of hearing you knock down someone so pompous was far greater.
Then came the angry and exasperating rhetoric of, "Well, what do you suggest I do about this than? Hm?"
"Well Sir, to be quite frank I don't really care, but I had assumed that at such a senior rank and with all the experience you boast of, that you could figure it out on your own." You aimed a rehearsed smile at him and folded your hands on your desk. Ghost leaned back in his chair, watching through the open doors and tapping his pen on his desk. Clicking his jaw shut, the captain silently glared at you for a moment before you gestured towards the open door with an elegant wave of your hand. A signal of 'you can go now' that caused an amused huff of air to escape Ghost's nose. Taking in a slow, deep breath, the captain turned and stomped from the room. Ghost just tracked him with his eyes as he turned down the hall and fled.
The deep sigh that emanated from your office had his eyes trailing back to your doorway. Whispered ranting and mockings of the bastard had Ghost fighting down a grin. You appeared in the doorway suddenly, looking at him with an incredulous look on your face and threw your hands in the air. He just shook his head in response. He didn't think either of you had ever actually said more than a few greetings to one another; you just shared silent exchanges like this one. Rolling your eyes, your hands flopped to your sides as you scoffed and stomped back to your desk.
So much attitude in that little head of yours.
Tinted lipgloss stuck to Simon's cock. Make-up tainted tear tracks stained your face from the way he was throat fucking you. He was gonna cum in the next 15 seconds if he didn't stop, so he squeezed the base of his cock and pulled you back by your hair with a breathy grunt. The way you looked up at him panting with a mix of drool and precum dripping down your chin made his cock throb dangerously. Your wet doe eyes and soft hands were not what he was expecting when he lied his way into your bed. At work you were known as a bitch. A hard ass, DOD contracted civillian brought in by Laswell to plan and track special forces missions and everything to do with them.
The image of the you from work crossed with the vision of you in front of him. On your knees with your head resting against his thigh as you looked up at him. You were the perfect image of a sweet and obedient little lover-girl tonight. He smoothed a hand over your hair, trailing it down your cheek until his thumb was pressing against your bottom lip. Humming dreamily, your tongue laved at his thumb before he pressed it into your mouth. Your furrowed eyebrows were just so cute. He'd never be able to look at you the same after this.
"You want somethin' from me, lovie?", he teased, pulling his thumb away and replacing it with his cock. You nodded with a small, whiney, "Yes, please." "Open up, than greedy girl."
You stuck your tongue out, letting him smack his cock on it a few times before kissing and licking the tip. With one hand holding the back of your head, Simon carefully eased his cock into your mouth. You held fluttering eye contact as he slowly began thrusting faster; beginning to throat fuck you once more. His mean little coworker... seeing you so different out of your usual setting and the fact that he had been practically edging himself made quick work of him. A minute was all it took before he was pulling his cock from your mouth and jerking himself off as he came all over your face. He let you continue licking at his cock as he leaned against the wall, recovering.
Simon didn't even realize his eyes had closed, but at the sound of your pathetic little whimper they shot open. Hand between your legs, cheek resting against his thigh, you looked up at him with a sad little pout on your lips. "You're a good girl ain'tcha?" His hand caressed your hair while you nodded. "Don't worry, dove. I won't dare leave ya without a reward."
He guided you to the couch and had you on your back in an instant. With your legs pushed to your chest, your wet cunt was fully on display. He wrapped his arms around your thighs and dragged you toward the edge, closer to his face. His thumb lightly rubbed your clit making your whole body twitch. A low chuckle rumbled in his chest, "Poor girl is so sensitive..." He gives your clit a wet kiss before laving his tongue along your cunt, eating you out. Your moans and squeaks had his cock stiffening again. He teased his two middle fingers into your cunt and watched your expression; carefully prodding until he saw your eyes heavily flutter and your skin flush a deeper shade. Simon pressed into that spot until your moans pitched higher and your thighs squeezed his head.
"Oh fuck, oh fuck, yesyesyesyesyesyes-" One hand pressed into your lower stomach while his other hand continued to fuck into you. He pulled his mouth from your cunt, leaving a string of spit and slick behind. You squealed, body flexing and squirming before your head fell back, squirting on his hand. He dove back in, letting you use his tongue to ride out the rest of your ogasm until you were whimpering and whining.
Simon grabbed you, readjusting you into a more comfortable position. Your fingers slid into his hair, lips brushing and eyes meeting. That soft, dopey look had him pressing in to kiss you; hand fisting into your hair, pulling your head back as he kissed down your neck. He used his other hand to wrap your leg around his waist. Feeling you cum on his fingers had his cock painfully hard again. Now it beaded precum as it rubbed against your slick cunt. Simon grabbed his cock and positioned it, slowly pressing into you and shushing you as you whined.
"Oh yeah...", he sighed. Your cunt was just as soft as you were right now. Your hand reached for his forearm and squeezed as he bottomed out. He ran his hand up your body, his gaze trailing it's path. The way your tits jiggled with his first few thrusts altered his path until he was groping and massaging your breast with one hand and gripping your hip with the other. You pushed your chest into his eager hand; your cunt clenching. The way your hips meet his every thrust... a secondary wave of arousal washed over him.
How could he ever look you in the eye after this? He'd never get another ounce of work done again with you around.
Pulling out, Simon flipped you onto your stomach and pulled you up onto your knees. For the first time, he noticed the tattoo on your back. What a little minx. His hand slid up your spine and he leaned forward to place a wet kiss against the inked skin. Suddenly his hand was gripping the back of your neck and shoving your upper body into the cushion. Whining with your face half in the pillows and pushing back into his hips, your ass rubbed up against his leaking cock. Simon chuckled deep in throat and squeezed the back of your neck. "You wanna take it so bad don't you?" Unable to nod, you whimper, "Yes, please." His free hand landed a sudden smack against your ass causing a gasp to tear from your throat. Hand smoothing over the stinging skin, he cooed at you.
Pulling his hips away just slightly, Simon slowly guides his cock into your wet cunt. He let's a low sigh out at the feeling of being back inside your pussy. This angle feels so much better, bordering painful, but you can't really tell the difference at this point. He bears down on you so close, you feel his hot breath. His hips are firmly and intentionally grinding against your ass. His dick causing shivers to run through your body. The recoil of your ass when he begins thrusting again is mesmerizing. He grabs a handful of your ass and spreads you open, slowing his thrusts down enough to watch his cock sink into your wet cunt over and over. Moving to grip your waist with both hands, Simon speeds back up; practically using you like a doll.
The way you tighten up on him is dangerous. "Shit-" He breaths panicked. Cum spurts from his cock before he can even pull out. "Shit!" He growls, quickly stuffing his cock back in your cunt to roughly fuck himself through his orgasm. His hands shake as he finally pulls out. You feel his cum spilling out of your cunt as you go to push yourself up, but his hands grab your hips and roughly pull you backwards. Simon lays back as he drags you up his chest, placing your cunt right over his face. Any words you had formulated turn to a moan when his mouth latches onto your clit. His arms snake around your thighs and hold you against his mouth. His hot mouth that feels so good. You were already so close when he came that you know it won't be long before your orgasm burns through you. His tight grip loosens when he feels you trying to grind against his face. If he wasn't 2 ogasms out, the way you moan and grip on his thighs would make his dick hard again.
One arm uncoils from your thigh to land a rough smack to your ass. He feels your pussy clench at the act and lands another light smack before he kneads the area with a rough hand. Simon can tell from the way you tighten your thighs that you're close to cumming. He decides to lock you down with one arm wrapped around your waist. His other hand trails back, wetting his fingers in the mix of fluids before slipping 2 fingers inside of your pussy. Your head is thrown back with a pleased gasp as he finger fucks you. Curling them into your g-spot relentlessly until you're squirting; cum dripping down his chin and neck onto the bed. He keeps fingering you until you're reaching back, begging him to stop with dewy eyes and weak hands.
He's grinning as he lifts your pussy away from his mouth.
"Lieutenant Riley, you're not even paying attention." You sternly accuse.
Simon takes a deep, slow breathe in as he repositions himself higher in his seat, blinking a few times to clear the haze of his daydream. He clears his throat, glances at you and nods for you to continue. All you do is purse your lips; sparing him a scalding look as you continue where you left off in the PowerPoint.
"So, first round of weapons draw is going to be 0600. Buses will show at 0700 to take the troops to the range. Second round will be 1100, so buses will show at 1200. That gives all the firers about 5 hours to hit a qual out on the range. They can come back as soon as they qual, but I do NOT want to work passed 6pm tomorrow." You turn to look at him again and your lips purse.
He must look disinterested. Not only had he already been told the timelines for the range, but the entire time you'd been talking, he had been thinking of your escapade from this previous weekend. Every time he looked at you since you came in Monday morning, he could only see the pliant little thing you'd been Saturday night when he fucked you and Sunday morning before he left. Right now though, he could see you about to throw a fit over his lack of attention toward your presentation.
"Don't worry, dove." He stood up and pushed his chair in. "I wouldn't dare to cause mess of all your hard work and planning." Simon circled the table and loomed over you. The look in your eyes shows your recognizition of the combination of the pet name and his voice.
"Well, I-"
"It's OK, lovie." He smoothed his hand over your hair and to the side of your neck until his thumb brushed your cheek. In an instant, you looked just the same as you did this weekend. Furrowed brows relaxing at the realization and a doe eyed look replacing the severe one you'd been giving him. You looked almost like a deer caught in the headlights; completely unsure of what to do.
How cute.
"So you want me to open up the Arms Room, right?"
All you could muster up was a tiny nod.
"I'll be there at 0500 to do an inspection and ready everything. I'll allow troops to start drawing their weapons 10 minutes early, too. Okay?" As he spoke his thumb traced your bottom lip. So entranced by his actions and your realization, you could only muster a breathless, "Okay." In response.
The way you looked up at him had his body moving to lean down for a kiss, but his self control stopped him before he could even get an inch. Instead, Simon just pressed his thumb down against your bottom lip and left you go. Running his tongue along his teeth, he averted his gaze from you and walked back over to his office.
okay I thought I should maybe share a few thoughts I have on Brahms and his relationship with music and a lil headcanon of mine + a little bit about the movie score as well!
(please excuse my poor phrasing I feel like it's all over the place :'D)
There are several points I wanna go over but first off I wanna quote his mother, Mrs. Heelshire
"Music Ms. Evans, I don't know how Brahms would go on without his music. It's his world. [...] It gives him so much joy, I don't dare take it away from him"
this quote alone, if you want to give his mother any trust in her words which I certainly do, should already make you a bit more curious if you just focus on the music aspect while watching the movie which brings me to my next point of the instruments
the most obvious being the piano (which I believe in the movie is either a harpsichord (with one key row) OR a Bartolomeo Cristofori due to the softer sound compared to a harpsichord but please don't quote me on that I'm no professional or a musician, if anyone knows more about that feel free to add :) ) and the violin!
so headcanon time:
I'm pretty sure Brahms knows how to play the piano probably due to his parents making him take piano lessons as a child but to add on top of that I also think he knows how to play the violin as well since we see two of them in his children's room and one in his wall room
that plus all the music sheets put up in his wall room just really give me the thought and feeling of him really, REALLY being into music, classical music at that
he's listening to it, playing it! "It's his world" after all!
I'm almost certain he plays his violin inside the walls every once in a while and that he's probably also really good at it as well! (he had years and years to practice, I'm like 100% sure he sounds like an angel playing it don't @ me)
here's another piano (+music sheets!)
the violin (+music sheets!)
more music sheets! :D
this man literally surrounds himself by music and I think it's such a cool thing which brings me to the next point because I also think it's important to note that Brahms himself is named after the german musician Johannes Brahms which they have a little bust of him standing on the piano :) another nice detail!
but that's not it!
Johannes Brahms wrote the piece "Wiegenlied" (Lullaby) which is seen and played shortly (by Greta) in the movie
and also is the most recurring piece of music in the movie's score if you pay close attention!
for example you can hear it in the tracks like "Family Photos", "Come Play Pretty Greta", "The Phone Call and the Letter" (the whole beginning for this one!), "Out of the Mirror" or "Goodnight Brahms" (at the very end before the movie ends)
it's basically Brahms' theme and I think it's so clever they worked this classical piece into the score in many different ways!
I'd really recommend just listening to the score itself tbh to fully notice it!
I know this has been all over the place but I just needed to get it out of my system since it's such an interesting thought to me :')
brahms was huge? like grizzly huge? was rich? had a mansion? good wine? lifetime of free groceries and bills? obsessed with her so he would never cheat? english hence the sexy accent? would have sliced anyone who looked at her wrong (or simply looked at her and i am not complaining)? obedient? adored her? would have cooked for her if she asked?
Unfortunately, König would be ridiculously controlling in a relationship.
It stems from him being overprotective of you and ridiculously insecure of his conventionally unattractive appearance, fearing that you'll come to the realisation that there's better looking men out there who won't treat you like a puppet or a toy. He can't stand the idea of another man laying eyes on your figure, the thought of another perverted and gross degenerate — similar to himself — getting off to your innocent, cutesy selfies. You're for König's eyes only, and he'll make sure of it. He'll plead with you to delete the recent pictures of you wearing a skimpy and revealing bikini while on vacation that you'd recently uploaded onto your Instagram page. His rage and frustration grows beyond comprehension when you refuse. He'll demand that you should at least private your account, block all the men following and liking your posts. Let him protect you.
Oh, you have plans to go out drinking with your closest friends? Well, that's too bad. That's far too dangerous and risky. Anything could happen to a group of intoxicated, tipsy, and delirious women. He's just looking out for you, little mouse... Why don't you come lay down beside him, rest your head against his brute chest and watch your favourite movie together, listening to the sound of each other's heartbeat? He'll take great care of you. It's safer, anyways.
König doesn't care how long you've known your friends for, if you've known them since childhood or not. He'll convince you that they're a horrible influence on you, that they're toxic and manipulative, and that you don't see through their toxicity. He'll claim that they don't look out for you like König does, that they put you in life-threatening situations where your life is placed in danger. He'll sneak onto your phone while you're soaking yourself in the bubbly bathtub, going out of his way to block and get rid of your friends — making an effort to threaten all your male friends while he has the time.
Sure, it's bound to result in an argument and a screaming match between the two of you, but you just don't understand — you don't see it from his perspective. You should be grateful, Liebling.
A/N: My kinktober (2023) is about Brahms Heelshire this year. I saw the movie a few weeks ago, and I had to write it out of my system.
Important: After kinktober is over, I won't write more about him. As I said, I just need him out of my system. It also means that I don't take requests about him.
More: This series of oneshots is about the same Reader and her life with Brahms, but they can be read as stand-alones since they are mostly smut with barely any plot.
Have fun!
Brahms Heelshire
2023
Brahms's playtime - Brahms comes out of his hiding place while you are asleep. /18+
A shocking night - You find out Brahms is alive and wants to protect you. /18+
Another night - Brahms wakes you up in the middle of the night to take care of him. /18+
Forget them all, Wendy - Brahms gets bored while you are reading him. /18+
Compromise - Brahms lets you out of the house after making sure you know who you belong to. /18+
Reward - Brahms is upset but you need internet. /18+
New things - Brahms learns new things on the internet. /18+
Yours - You want to make his first time memorable. /18+
A new morning - Brahms wakes up with a new-found energy. /18+
Records - You let Brahms record you. /18+
Behind the walls - You go after Brahms after an argument. /18+
Run - Brahms wants to play. You have to run. /18+
Bedtime story - You are more interesting to Brahms than the book you read. /18+
For breakfast - Breakfast can wait while Brahms is dreaming about his future with you. /18+
"Can you do that, Brahms?" You ask him for the second time when, instead of answering your previous question, he pouts at you with a slight, moody wrinkle between his brows. "Can you promise you won't spy on me for a few hours?" The corners of your lips twitch as you listen to your own words. You can't even imagine what other people would think of Brahms or you if they heard you right now. Or any other time.
"But why?" His voice is higher with a couple of octaves than before. His hands on your waist tighten while you keep your arms around his lean waist.
"Because I want to surprise you," you tell him. "It's just a few hours, Brahms. Please."
His chest stretches with a heavy sigh. "Fine."
"Great!" You squeak out, reaching up for his neck to pull him down for a quick kiss. "You won't regret it." It's funny you say that; Brahms already feels the regret eating at him when you disappear upstairs.
You have been waiting for this day ever since you decided to stay with Brahms. Well, you like to think you had a choice in the matter. You had doubts when he dragged you into the shower with himself the first time, but after the first kiss you shared, you knew it for sure. He has no experience with women and intimacy. You weren't even surprised. The man lived most of his life behind the walls of Heelshire manor. In the beginning, he had barely any idea what to do or how without your guidance. It was fine, though. You love the power you had over him and his pleasure. You built him up patiently and softly. And today, if he is okay with it, you are ready to take the next step. You are surprised he hasn't initiated it yet. Brahms has no patience when it comes to what he wants, and you learned it rather quickly.
So, you take the first step.
You start with your room after making sure Brahms doesn't lurk behind the walls. You gather more pillows and blankets, adjusting them on the bed to your liking. You even go and unpack the lights you ordered since Brahms is not really comfortable around fire. You put the lanterns and fairy lights all around the room until you are satisfied with the result. By the time you are done, it's already dark outside, and your room looks like a cozy nest with dim lights and the scent of fresh strawberries because of the tray of snacks and drinks on the bedside table.
You are really satisfied when you leave your room to get Brahms, who is already in the living room with his mask on. You can't help but frown at the sight of him.
"What's wrong, honey?" You ask him softly, cradling his face in your hands as he accepts you stepping between his legs. His warm palms find their way to the back of your thighs immediately.
When he doesn't reply, you continue. "Do you not want to see my surprise? Do you want to do something else?"
He shakes his head.
Ever since you earned Brahms's trust, the man avoids wearing his mask around you as much as he feels comfortable without it. By now, you only see it on him when something is wrong.
Biting your lip, you think through your next step. "Do you want to take a bath with me? Bubbles and everything."
Finally, he nods.
"Good," you smile at him, taking one of his hands in yours to link your fingers together. "Come, then."
He follows you up to his room like a lost puppy, watching you prepare his bathroom without a word.
"You can take off your clothes," you tell him, glancing at his towering figure over your shoulder when you check the water's temperature for the last time.
You didn't share your plans with Brahms, but maybe he can feel it in the air. He knows something is coming, and you want to give him the chance to say no.
"You know," you start. "We can watch a movie, too. Or I can read."
Both of you are in the bathtub, enjoying the warmth of the water. The air is heavy with steam and the scent of the bathbomb you used. The water is green and glitters a little under the light of the lamp hanging from the ceiling.
"No," he says. The porcelain of his mask is cold on the side of your face as he rests his head on your shoulder. His arms are around you while your back is against his broad chest. His hands are cupping your breasts, just holding them for his comfort.
"But you can change your mind at any second, okay?" You ask him. "What is our safeword?"
"Doll."
"Good boy," you praise him, reaching behind you to pet his hair.
You take your time in the bathroom, making sure to wash his worries away until his body is relaxed in your hands. You massage his shoulders, caress his chest, and play with his curls while he lets you pamper him until the water is almost cold and you have to get out.
"Do you feel better?" You ask him, leading him out of the room with his hand in yours.
"Yes," he replies.
He still wears his mask, but you don't mention it. You know he will take it off when he is ready.
"Did you change your mind? We can go to sleep, too, baby."
"No. I want to see your surprise."
"Okay, love," you smile at him soothingly.
You step into the room first so you can see Brahms's reaction. You know it's nothing fancy or grand, but you want to make him feel comfortable and cared for. Even after all the things you did together and with each other, you want to make his first time special.
Brahms doesn't even know how to feel at the sight of your room. He can see the pale face of the moon through the window above your bed, which is full of soft pillows and warm blankets. Small lights hang from here and there, mixing with the dim glow of the lanterns. He had never seen anything so inviting and comfortable.
"What do you think?" You ask him after a while. Your heart thuds against your ribcage since you can't see his expression.
"I love it," Brahms answers, caging you in his arms to pull you to his body. His chest is still bare, and your fingers rake through the soft hair. "I love you."
"I love you too," you grin at him, kissing the cold lips of his mask. "Do you want to lay down a little?" You ask him. "We have snacks."
Brahms follows you to the bed, resting his large body among the soft fabrics while you put the tray in the middle between your bodies. He still feels amazed because of everything you did for him.
"Comfortable?" You ask.
He nods. "Thank you."
"Anything for my baby," you grin at him cheekily just to lighten the mood. "I'm glad you like it, though. And I'm proud of you for keeping your promise."
"How do you know?" He asks, pushing his mask away a little to eat some grapes. The fruit pops under his teeth, flooding his mouth with its sweet taste.
You shrug, not knowing how to answer. You just know it. Brahms became such a deep part of you that you simply feel him whether he is around you or not. But you are right, though. Brahms wanted to respect your wishes even if it drove him bad most of the day while he waited for you.
"Do you want me to read you?" You ask him. "Just a few pages."
Even though he is much more relaxed than before, you can still notice his fidgetiness.
"Please."
So you read him for a while, letting the remaining tension leave his body as he almost melts on the bed. Every now and again, you have to glance at him to check if he is still awake.
"Come here," he says when you pause for a second. "I want you close."
Putting away the book, you crawl up on him to straddle his hips.
"Do you feel better?" You ask him, playing with the hair on his chest. Your thumbs rub over his nipples a few times.
"Yes," he hums, watching you. His shirt is big on you, but he can see the soft line of your breasts and the pretty pebbles of your nipples. He is already pulling on the fabric to get rid of it, but you stop him.
"No," you say, and he can't help but be surprised. You never say no when he wants your tits.
"What?"
"I said no," you tell him. "We will learn new things today, Brahms."
He doesn't like it but keeps quiet. You already did so much for him.
"I know patience is not your strong suit, but we will work on it today."
Oh, no, just not on my patience, he thinks, grimacing under his mask.
"And we will learn about building," you grin. You don't have to see the man's face under you to know he doesn't like what you say. "Do you trust me, Brahms?"
He nods without thinking. You are the only one in the whole world he fully trusts.
"Then believe me when I say you will like it."
He nods again.
Brahms watches you with interest as you grab a strawberry from the tray. The fruit is red and ripe.
"Do you want to take off your mask?" You ask him. When he shakes his head, you continue. "Then push it out of the way a bit."
He can do that.
He lets you feed him fruit after fruit while he stares up at you the whole time. He is surprised at how intimate the act is despite its innocence.
"Good boy," you break the silence after a while. "Now, the next step."
You can feel his body tense under you with anticipation.
Putting another strawberry in your mouth, you lean on his chest to reach his lips. For a second, Brahms just stares at you, not knowing what to do before smoothing his hand on your hips and accepting the fruit from your mouth. Both of you munch on it until your lips meet in a soft kiss. The edge of his mask pokes your face, and you want to take it off and throw it as far as you can but decide against it. It has to be Brahms's choice.
"Do you want another one?" You ask him. Your words brush over his lips, and he wants another kiss but nods anyway.
Repeating your previous actions, you stay capturing his lips with your own. You let yourself taste the fruit on his lips, licking into his mouth with a satisfied hum. Brahms's nerves are on edge as he lies under you, holding onto your hips while you play and tease him. He barely has time to deepen the kiss when you back away to nibble on his bottom lip, biting into the soft flesh softly and soothing the slight pain with your tongue.
"Y/N," Brahms says your name with a dreamy sigh as your lips trail down on his bearded jaw and hairy chest. Your tongue flicks over one of his nipples, and he gasps at the new sensation.
"Oh!"
"Did you like it?" You grin at him, caressing his abs. He is warm under your palm and curious fingertips.
"Yes," he grunts. The curve of your lips widens when you see him reaching up to his mask to tear it away from his face and letting it drop next to the bed.
"And here is my handsome boy," you croon. "Hey."
His heart flutters and the shade of his cheeks darken under your appreciative gaze. "Hey."
You lean up to kiss him again, letting him dominate the motion for a few seconds. Your bottom still rests over his crotch. His erection twitches and throbs every time you rub against it as you move.
"How are you feeling, Brahms?" You ask him while peppering his face with small pecks. His fire-marred skin is rough under your lips.
"Good." Brahms stays with the easiest answer when he can't find the right words. He is excited and hungry for you, but at the same time, he feels soft, and his heart could burst out at any moment because of all the things you make him feel.
Your nails crawl over the front of his body, sending goosebumps all over his skin as you move down until you hoover above his knees, and your face is level with the obvious tent in his pants.
The world starts to spin around Brahms with you in the focus when you tug on his pants, and his cock springs free. His desperate grunt is loud in the quiet room when you hold him in your hand and stroke up on his shaft.
"I want to see you," he says breathlessly.
For a second, you want to deny him but decide otherwise. Quickly, you get rid of his shirt while you stay bare on top of him.
You are so beautiful, he can't even breathe. Your skin looks soft under the dim lights, and every dip and curve of your body seems to beg for his touch. His palms tingle with the need to reach out for you. And he does. A moan escapes your lips when he sits up a little to knead one of your breasts. His thumb runs across your skin, following the curve of your flesh before rubbing over your nipple.
"I want it in my mouth," he breaks the silence again, hoping you will give in to his wants once again.
"Not yet," you shake your head. "I want to prepare you first."
He feels prepared enough, though but can't argue when he chokes on his own saliva when you focus your attention back on his cock. For a long second, he hears nothing but the ringing of his ears as you stroke up and down on his length. Your thumb follows the line of one of his bulging veins until you reach the tip.
"You are so pretty," you hum under your breath, still teasing the bulbous head of his cock. You can feel him throbbing in your hold.
Brahms's chuckle is breathless and hoarse. "Me or my dick?"
You grin. "Both. And you taste good, too."
The man saw you take him in your mouth several times already, but the sight of his cock disappearing between your lips is still mesmerizing. You are warm and wet around him. Your tongue is flat against the underside of his shaft.
"Y/N!" He gasps out your name, tightening his hold on the blankets around him. Black dots dance in front of his eyes as you suckle on him, gathering his pre-cum on your tongue to gulp every now and again.
You take your time, though. You don't chase him to his orgasm, and he never imagined suffering so sweet.
A desperate whimper escapes his closed lips when you move away from his cock. He wants to cum so badly.
"It's okay, Brahms," you coo, smoothing your hand over his chest. "You will get your reward for being so patient."
The man watches with wide eyes as you settle back above his crotch. Your pussy is nestled against his cock, soaking him with your juices. Something curls in his stomach with anticipation as he stares at the motion of your hips. You rock back and forth, letting your wet heat slide over his cock repeatedly. The tip of his cock nudges your clit every time.
"How do you want me, Brahms?" You ask him, panting. The slow pace you set is hard on you, too. Your pussy aches, and your walls flutter with need. After all these months, you want him inside you.
Brahms's lips open, but no word comes out. His mind does not want to work.
"Do you want me to stay on top?" You ask him. "Or you want to change position?"
"Top," he grunts. Your hips rock and twist the whole time. "You."
"Okay, baby," you nod.
Lifting yourself from his lap, you still hover above him with your hand between your legs this time. You slide your fingers over your pussy, rubbing your clit for a few seconds before pushing into your hole. A relieved sigh leaves your lips at the familiar stretch, but it's not near enough. You finger yourself above Brahms while the man can do nothing but grip the fabrics around him to keep himself from cumming. At this point, you don't even care about the slight pain you cause yourself. You add another and then a third finger until you are sure you are prepared enough to take his cock.
"Okay," you break the silence, mostly talking to yourself. You need several deep breaths to push down the impatience crawling up your spine. You want it soft and gentle, and if you lose your head, it will be anything but.
"Are you ready?" You ask Brahms, glancing at his face. His eyes are glassy, and his lips open. Sweat sticks his curls to his forehead.
"Yes," he grunts. "I want you, Y/N."
"Good, love." Your smile is shaky. "I want you too." You never wanted anything so much in your life.
A heavy groan is punched out of him when he feels your entrance at the tip of his cock. Your hold on his shaft is steady and firm as you press him into you. You slide down on his slick cock inch by inch, enjoying the pressure in your walls and the way he slowly fills you up. Brahms doesn't even dare to breathe. He just lies under you, watching his cock disappearing in your tight hole. The noises escaping his throat are a mix of groans and whimpers. You are warm and wet around him, squeezing his cock all the way to the base.
"How do I feel?" You ask, sitting on him with his whole cock in you. Your question is shaky.
At this point, Brahms can't form words anymore. His brain is a mush of pleasure and need in his head. You envelop him tightly. He can feel himself rubbing against your inner walls as you start to rock your hips. They are small movements, but fireworks spark behind his closed eyelids at the feeling.
A throaty groan is the only answer you get from him.
"You can cum anytime you want, baby," you tell him, watching a vein bulging on his neck as he clenches his teeth together.
"No," he growls, slipping his hands to your waist for a squeeze. He wants to feel your pussy when you cum around him. "But please," he continues, gasping. "Move!" To give some weight to his words, he grinds deep inside your wet hole. He reaches every nerve and every spongy spot that steals your breath away.
"Fuck!" You wheeze, pushing down against him as you begin to rock back and forth on him more rapidly while his cock twitches and throbs.
"Brahms!" You cry out his name, bracing yourself on his chest as you lift yourself a little and drop back on his cock again.
"Fuck!" You both groan at the same time. The man's hands slide up to your tits, palming and kneading your soft flesh. He works on you mindlessly, rubbing and pinching your nipples in reflex.
"Again!" He demands, and you repeat your movement several times until you bounce on his cock with his hips pushing up in rhythm into your pussy. You can see as his stomach tightens and your juices soak the trimmed hair at the base of his shaft.
You feel light and drunk on his cock. Your eyes are half closed, and your limbs shake as you force yourself to move. Your pussy squeezes around the grith of Brahms's cock, wanting it to stay inside you until he floods you with his seed. Brahms wants that, too. There are moments as you grind to each other that he is sure his dick will fall off because of the way you work on him. There are no thoughts behind his teary eyes as he stares at you, moaning and groaning. His hold on your breasts is painfully tight, but you have no mind or energy to stop him as he slides in and out of your drenched pussy.
Your vision blurs as you gasp for air. "I'm gonna- I'm-" Your toes curl in pleasure, and the burning coil in your stomach snaps in two. Your pussy flutters around his cock as you reach your climax, still bouncing and rocking. You cry in ecstasy as you fall into a deep spiral, twitching and jerking. Pleasure flares in your veins as you fall apart on his erection while he bucks into you deeper. You can't even tell anymore where your moans end and where his groans start. Your walls clamp around his cock while he empties himself inside of you. Hot spurts of cum fill your hole, and every shot makes you tremble and cry some more.
Brahms's cock still jerks and twitches inside you when you go limp on his body. Your mixed juices flow out of your pussy, soaking his balls and the sheets on the bed. Your muscles burn, your pussy aches from the stretch, and your limbs tingle. And while you fight with your heavy eyelids, Brahms has to learn how to breathe again. His chest heaves under you, and a low groan escapes both of your lips when you lift yourself from him and let your body fall close next to his.
"How do you feel?" You pant.
"Fuck," he groans, holding your thigh in his hand. You are soft and sweet against him.
You grin. "I'm glad." You want to put away the tray that is still on the bed behind you, but there is no way you can move.
"Thank you, Y/N," Brahms breaks the silence after a while. "It was… I just…"
"I love you, too, Brahms," you hum, cupping his cheek and raking your finger through his thick beard until both of you fall asleep in each other's arms.
A drooping posture can convey a sense of defeat and sadness. Keep shoulders slightly slouched, and avoid standing tall or with a straight back.
Facial expressions play a crucial role. A downturned mouth, furrowed brows, and a distant or vacant gaze can all indicate inner turmoil and heartache.
Men often avoid eye contact when they're feeling vulnerable. If you're experiencing heartbreak, you might find yourself looking down or away when speaking to others.
Restlessness can manifest in various forms, such as tapping fingers, bouncing legs, or constantly shifting positions. This indicates inner turmoil and an inability to find peace.
Movements may become slower and less purposeful when someone is experiencing emotional pain. This can include gestures like reaching for objects or adjusting clothing.
Men in heartbreak might withdraw from social interactions or participate less actively in conversations. They may seem physically present but emotionally distant.
Deep, heavy sighs are often involuntary reactions to emotional distress. They signify a release of tension and an underlying sense of sadness.
Heartbreak can drain one's energy. You may notice a decrease in enthusiasm, vitality, and overall liveliness in how you carry yourself and engage with others.
Crossing arms, hunching shoulders forward, or clasping hands in front of the body can create a barrier between oneself and others, reflecting emotional guardedness and pain.
Gestures may become less expressive and more restrained. Hand movements may be smaller in scale and less animated compared to usual.
It was as if his bones were made of glass, shattering into a million pieces with every movement and sending waves of sharp, shooting pain coursing through his limbs.
His muscles screamed in protest with every step, each movement sending jolts of electric pain shooting through his body.
The ache settled deep into his bones, a dull, persistent throb that seemed to resonate with every heartbeat.
Every inch of his body felt tenderized, as if he had been used as a punching bag in a brutal workout session.
The sensation of blood trickling down his skin was a grim reminder of the violence he had endured.
His ribs screamed in protest with every breath, each inhalation a sharp reminder of the blows he had taken.
The world seemed to spin around him in a dizzying blur, his vision clouded by the stars of pain that danced across his field of vision with every movement.
A sharp, stabbing sensation shot through his lower back, making him wince.
Her temples throbbed with a relentless, pounding headache.
He clutched his side, pain radiating from the bruise with every breath.
Her muscles screamed in protest, the soreness a reminder of yesterday’s workout.
A burning ache spread through his chest, each heartbeat intensifying the agony.
She bit her lip, trying to stifle the groan as pain flared in her twisted ankle.
His knuckles were raw and throbbing, evidence of the fight.
She pressed a hand to her forehead, a dull ache settling behind her eyes.
A searing pain lanced through his knee, nearly buckling his leg.
She gripped the edge of the table, knuckles white as pain shot through her arm.
Her trembling hands betrayed the unyielding agony in her joints, a relentless companion.
Doubled over, he fought against the relentless cramps that seized his stomach.
A sudden, searing pain in her wrist forced her to relinquish her grip, the cup clattering to the ground.
Every step reverberated through her aching feet, a reflection to the miles she had traversed.
Rubbing his shoulder provided little respite from the persistent agony that gnawed at the joint.
A sharp sting on her finger brought fresh irritation, the paper cut a small but sharp reminder of vulnerability.
His tooth throbbed incessantly, a deep, pulsating ache that clouded his thoughts.
Each movement of her stiff and sore neck elicited a fresh wave of discomfort, a constant reminder of strain.
A stabbing pain in his chest made each breath a struggle, a reminder of mortality's grasp.
The throbbing in his hand, where the door had slammed shut, served as a relentless reminder of his own clumsiness.
A dull ache settled deep within her lower back, rendering even sitting a feat of endurance.
His leaden legs protested with every step, each movement a symphony of agony.
His head spun, the pain behind his eyes making it hard to focus.
Sharp pangs in her side served as a reminder of the physical toll of her exertion, a stitch from pushing too hard.
His throbbing ankle, swollen and tender, made each step a test of willpower.
Gritting her teeth against the shooting pain, she cursed the strain from overuse that tormented her wrist.
Pressing a hand to his chest, he felt the pain radiate outward in relentless waves, a reminder of vulnerability.
Her burning shoulder protested each movement, the pain a constant reminder of her injury.
He winced as sharp pains flared in his elbow, each movement a reminder of his body's fragility.
A deep ache throbbed in her hip, a persistent discomfort that refused to be ignored.
His fingers tingled with pain, a result of gripping the tool too tightly for too long.
giving simon his first ever handjob, watching the way his back arches when you barely even touch him, never having felt the touch of another on him. he was so used to his own big, rough, scarred hands that when your soft, gentle, and much smaller hands pulled him out of the confines of his pants, he was already starving off his orgasm to the best of his abilities.
but you knew, despite his poor attempts at holding back his whimpers, that he had never felt like this before. he had been leaking precum ever since you two were kissing, a prominent wet spot covering the front of his pants. it was adorable, the way such a big man could barely control himself, his hips twitching away from the onslaught of pleasure, his own precum being used to make the movement against his cock more slick.
the only sounds in the room were his helpless, muffled sounds of pleasure, and the sick, obscene noises of your hand moving over his overly slick cock at a punishing pace. and when you cupped his head, the man was cumming like no other, his entire body contorting, thighs trembling and spasming, his hands pushing at your thighs where you sat on top of his.
you didn’t stop just yet, your hands moving as he whimpered out a few pathetic words about how much it hurt. you had to tease him then, because a man as big as him shouldn’t be complaining like this while getting his cock rubbed raw.
“you can’t be in pain, simon. you go through much worse everyday, stop being such a baby”
