ENEMIES TO LOVERS SIMON AND READER WHERE YOU HATE HIM AND HE WANTS TO KISS YOU BUT YOURE LIKE “you can on one condition”
“yeah luv, wha’s tha’?” “you get to kiss me only if you can recite the whole bible in japanese”
and he just- he does? what
what do you mean he’s- where the fuck did he learn- pause- WHY did he learn-
you’re so shocked that after he speaks for a couple minutes he grabs your waist, pulls you closer and kisses you, it’s gentle but he’s exploring your mouth, lips parting yours and licking into you slowly
when he pulls away he’s smirking, lips pulling on one side and eyes so full of satisfaction, murmuring something about ‘make it harder next time swee’hear’’ and you’re still shocked and standing there like an idiot
sumn about reader being very inexperienced and very sensitive at the same time, trembling and squirming from every little touch; while simon, being mildly annoyed at first that he just can’t plough into you with the same force he did with all the others, because you just get overwhelmed and overstimulated to the point of loosing your breath, but then he slowly becomes amused at how responsive you are to every little thing.
he’s set on trying every position with you, on corrupting you and making you perfect. on showing you what kind of pleasure you can experience. the 1:9, 2:8 game? he can’t wait. prone bone? dreams about it. missionary? his favorite just because he can see your little fucked out expressions, your tongue falling out and eyes rolling back when he goes particularly deep and slow, one hand splayed across your jiggling stomach and the other gripping your thigh to make sure you always stay connected.
you whimper so much at the slightest touch, the slowest drag of his cock doing back shots. so much, all the time. after some time you’d successfully pavlov’d simon to get instantaneously bricked up whenever he hears your voice
sumn about reader being very inexperienced and very sensitive at the same time, trembling and squirming from every little touch; while simon, being mildly annoyed at first that he just can’t plough into you with the same force he did with all the others, because you just get overwhelmed and overstimulated to the point of loosing your breath, but then he slowly becomes amused at how responsive you are to every little thing.
he’s set on trying every position with you, on corrupting you and making you perfect. on showing you what kind of pleasure you can experience. the 1:9, 2:8 game? he can’t wait. prone bone? dreams about it. missionary? his favorite just because he can see your little fucked out expressions, your tongue falling out and eyes rolling back when he goes particularly deep and slow, one hand splayed across your jiggling stomach and the other gripping your thigh to make sure you always stay connected.
you’re late to your friend’s birthday. they’re throwing a party at the popular italian restaurant in the city centre, and even invited a “new friend” of theirs for you “to meet”, whatever that means. and you’re late.
your mood is sour solely because of your inability to choose an outfit.
you sneak in, your friend group loud as ever in the middle of the dining hall. hardwood oval table bustling with wines and delicious food. you feel even smaller. why are you so lost today?
catching your friend’s eyes in a silent apology you wave for everybody to see.
“sorry, guys, ‘m late again,’ you raise your hands in a gesture of surrender.
“‘t was worth it, honey.”
your eyes snap to the source of the husky remark, the compliment.
dark hair, huge shoulders. a mustache. a very smug smile. you weigh him with your gaze for a moment.
“thank you.” as simple as it was it did send tingles down your spine.
“my pleasure. John,” he introduces. the sly bastard.
you take a seat nearest to him, making a show of it because maybe you liked the compliment. and the guy’s intense eye contact. John, you repeat in your head.
once your plump behind is comfortably seated in the chair next to him, and you’ve managed to accidentally brush knees, you hold out your hand to greet him and say your name, as sweetly as you can, for him. as a thank you. because yes, you liked the attention.
you glance him over once again, admitting to yourself that your friend knows you a little better than you’d like and make a mental note of the way John’s shirt sits tight on his chest, and of his thighs, spread wide, and of his thick fingers you are sure can spread you wide.
very well, you think. a comfortable buzzing pit sets in your stomach, the cause something else entirely than the riches on the table.
somehow, by the end of the dinner, you’re hungrier than you were before.
ai companies can fuck right off i do not consent to feed their models with my writing
ᥫ᭡ Most fun to edge from most to least ⨯ 141 Edition (18+)
Johnny—Absolute brat behavior. Deserves to be edged for days when returning from a deployment only to have his fat prick put in a pink cock cage in between edging sessions. He needs it to come (literally) back to his senses before he can even function right. Very whimpery and whiny. Make sure to put down sex towels (plural), because this man leaks copious amounts of pre. Longest he lasted before mewling his safe word and begging you to let him come was eight days. He's very determined to break that streak.
Simon—Took him a while to realize how into it he actually is. This man, who's usually so eerily quiet during sex (except for the occasional grunt or groan when he first slides in), becomes an absolute whore when you edge him for longer than 30 minutes. Moaning, keening, whimpering. Serves a whole new palette of sounds to you. Watch this absolute unit of a man crumble while you sit between his trembling thighs, stroking his big cock with two hands; ghostly skin sticky with sweat and musk, tip drooling milky pre down your knuckles. He's also the cutest to ask for a session—comes crawling into your lap and flutters his pale lashes up at you with a prominent tent in his pants.
Price—The old man doesn't believe in edging, doesn't see the appeal of it until you make him. Prefers his sex to be old-fashioned and vanilla, actually, but whenever he tells you he's tired, it's code for please take care of me, lovely—so you do. And each time, you have to tie his wrists up to the headboard to really make him submit to you, before you get to edge him good. Doesn't last long before he half demands/half begs you to let him come. It's always a treat, but a rare one.
Kyle—Man's an interrogations and negotiations specialist. One of his hobbies is actively pissing you off until you're laugh-crying—but in a fun way, not a toxic one. Kyle is also the most dominant one of the pack, so he prefers to be in control. Once every full moon, he will let you have your fun for a while, but only because he loves to turn the tables and talk you into caving in, uttering the most delicious filth in that slightly breathless, sexy voice of his—until you end up being the one edged to tears.
tw: problems with portraying simon’s accent accurately but doing it anyways, p i v obviously, ovulation, reader shy af and can’t talk, let me know if i missed any
you caved and called him in he middle of the day. he picked up after a beat, sounding a little worried.
“yeah?”
your stomach flipped at the grittiness of his voice. he probably hasn’t spoken to anyone today at all for how he sounds like he just woke up.
“hi-i,” you smiled sheepishly, “si, when are you going to be home?” your usual brusque manner of speaking to men forgone at your predispositions today. look at you, all giddy just because you hear him breathe into the phone static.
“‘round seven.”
you audibly whined at that but hoped the crackles of the phone line hid it. that’s too long, it’s only quarter past three pm now.
“something up?”
something was indeed up. besides those horrible cramps, the slashing and poking pain that is killing you the whole day, the dampness between your thighs wouldn’t stop annoying you. you’ve tried everything. toys, fingers, humping a pillow, everything. it wasn’t satisfying. a persistent thought nudged at the corner of your conscience. if si was here you wouldn’t struggle so much.
after a while you just gave up on finishing what you’ve started and curled on your bed, annoyed ball of blankets and pillows. thank god you have your work-from-home-day today.
“no no, i-it’s okay… just need to see you.”
you were mortified. another full 3 hours and then some till he can help you.
“honest?”
you debated it for a while but what is the harm in telling him anyway? he’s a good roommate, he always helps you when you ask.
“no, i-i mean, yeah…,” you stumble over your words, “i just need your help with something.”
you can’t bring yourself to say ‘i really need you to fuck me’.
“wha’s up, bird?” it’s somewhere past seven o’clock in the afternoon. he beelined straight for his bedroom the moment he set foot in your home, where he finds you curled up. his permanently sad eyes look worried, white lashes framing the most beautiful blue oceans you’ve ever seen, eyebrows cinched together.
look at you, all putty just because your roommate has a habit of calling you petnames.
you whimper something about ovulation cramps and show to your belly, pressing on the spot where it’s the most intense.
“here?” he places his hand over yours, warm palm engulfing yours, “i’m sorry. can a massage help?”
“maybe…” you whimper again, your quivering voice just a tone above whisper. look at you, all tingly just because you roommate has a habit of being a gentleman.
“cmon, let me help you.” the warmth of his palm is comforting and you want more of it so you remove your hand and you let him help you. simon puts intermittent pressure on your abdomen which surprisingly works wonders and eases the tense muscles. you relax into it after a while, shoulders falling, letting a big shaky breath out.
“there you go,” he kneads your belly, “better?” a husky whisper burns your ear.
“mhm,” you’re not responsible for what your hips are doing.
“mhm?” he mocks you. the bastard.
“can i help you with anything else, love?” you can hear the smirk on his lips, his fingers still pressing into your abdomen and tracing little clockwise circles, “anything at all?”
you hope that continuing to grind on him would tell him. you hope that the slyness in his tone has good footing behind it. because you, in fact, are a horny mess and words vaporized off your brain’s surface when you felt the dip of the mattress as he laid down behind you and crossed one arm over you. as he whispered, nosing the sensitive space behind your ear, your neck, the ball of your jaw. as he started to grind his bulge into your ass, matching your movements, sharp breaths escaping him all the while.
you feel your pussy lips part, opening just the slightest bit, when you angle your ass towards him even more.
“s-si…,” your broken whisper slid from your throat.
“what is it?”
oh he wants to tease you to death. you whimper, annoyed at him. he still hugs you tightly to his chest and kneads your plush form.
“tell me,” his tone is soft but demanding. he understands your desires, he just needs the vocal approve, “i will do what you need me to. you just need to tell me, love. so, what d’ya want?”
“si, i… can you, please… i need your dick,” is all that you manage. pathetic, but it is what it is.
“you need my dick,” he hums into the lobe of your ear, “where precisely, sugar?”
this is so not fair. he meets you with a push of his hips once again.
you take his hand that rests on your belly and pull it down on your mons.
“here… please…,” you tell him, politely.
his hand travels couple inches down and cups your clothed pussy, the breezy, cold material of your shorts a stark contrast to the heat of his palm.
“want me to fuck you?” he rasps, “need me to fuck you, don’t ‘cha, love?”
he doesn’t wait for your attempt at a comeback, finally.
a breath catches in your throat as his hand slips under your panties and parts your folds baring your puffy pussy to the cold air. you feel his finger on your slit, gathering the slick wetness that pooled at your hole.
“already s’ wet,” he spreads your slick all over your puffy folds, “trouble making yourself come, little one?”
“needed your help…” you pathetically admit.
simon freezes for a split second. he didn’t expect you to call him while he’s at work, and certainly didn’t expect you to be so forward. he usually helps you with your inconveniences, like the true gentleman that he is, whenever you come up to him. that is, usually, late at night, crawling into his bed without knickers on. he always gets you to vocalize your need before he starts anything though. today, you just seem to be in a frenzy.
“trouble, tha’s what you are,” he shakes his head with a chuckle, and slowly pushes one finger in, and you lose it. this is so much better than your fingers.
you still, forgetting to breathe. you want to feel every inch of his thick digit inside of you, curling, prodding your spongy spot, dragging in and out.
somewhere in between the numb buzz of pleasure and the slick sounds that come from beneath his palm your brain conjures up a sentence. you turn your head and part your lips.
“can you kiss me please?” you manage to look up at him through half-lidded eyes, heavy with want.
he chuckles and lowers his head. your dry lips graze his, and as soon as his hot wet tongue makes its way into your mouth your eyes roll back, brain falling into a foggy bliss. this is what you needed - to feel his taste again, to drink him in.
he slowly kisses you while his fingers pump into you, the ball of his palm kissing your clit.
he releases your mouth with a wildly inappropriate wet sound, grinning at you.
“‘course i can, love.”
he’s going to be the death of you.
you are left laying there, mouth open, panting hot short breaths as he suddenly removes his fingers.
they were not enough anyway.
“now,” he said with an urgency, your eyes widening at him licking his fingers, “would you tell me how many orgasms do you need?”
“i don’t know, si! please just… please, put it in…” you whine, the way he’s prolonging your suffering not even slightly funny.
he chuckles again.
“yes ma’am.”
finally you feel him shift to release his cock from his pants, you hear him spit and slather it all over the shaft. simon holds your leg up by your thigh as you’re still laying on your side, his big fingers indenting your flesh, and your abdomen muscles tighten in anticipation when the tip of his cock first prods at your entrance. you go slightly cross-eyed as he slowly slips the head of his cock inside you, the pressure of him alleviating your pain.
“fuck, s’ tight, doll,” he sounds strangled.
the stretch makes your brain go numb, your leg completely slacking in his hold, your head falling back onto the pillow. simon always had that effect on you.
“you ok?” he stops.
“yes, yes, please, simon… don’t stop, please,” you babble out.
“we can do tha,” he nods and grunts, rolling his hips into you while you whine and struggle to keep your conscience.
when his hips are flush with yours, he stills, letting you adjust to his size.
please…” you squeak, mind frenzied with want.
“patience,” he orders, “i don’t wan’ t’ hurt you.”
“you won’t, i’m okay… feels good,” you try to get him to move with whatever hip movement you can muster. he really is taking every chance he gets to annoy you.
simon huffs and shakes his head, you feel his chest heave behind you and his fingers tighten on the flesh of your thigh. his resolve is not endless, you realize. you shimmy a little closer to him, so you can feel more of his skin on yours.
“please?”
your hips violently arch at the first roll and you keen. he sets a pace - shallow thrusts so the most sensitive parts of you can feel the most drag of his cock.
he’s being deliberately slow, as he always is, but tonight it might just make your blood boil.
he ruts into you until your walls start to flutter.
“you have to tell me when you come,” his gritty demand rings in your ears. he slowly brings you to your orgasm.
“i’m gonna…” you breathlessly cannot finish a sentence.
“are you?”
“yes, yes, yes,” you sob, “gonna come!”
simon holds you close while you shudder, slowly driving his cock in and out of you, drawing out your peak, panting into your ear as your walls flutter around him.
“good girl,” he says, slipping his cock out of your heat.
“no, no, wait!” you sound so disappointed, “didn’t want you to pull out.”
simon chuckles and rolls you over to your back, situating himself between your legs.
“feel empty?”
“uhuh,” you nod and grab at his thighs and abdomen trying to get him to be closer, opening your warm soft thighs so sweetly for him.
“don’t worry, love, won’t be for long.”
your gaze darts to his, dark desire and tainted bliss dimming the light blue shade of his eyes. you shudder when he slaps you puffy overstimulated pussy with his slicked heavy cock, tip red and swollen.
“si!” you squeak.
“sensitive?” he asks with a grin, already knowing the answer.
when he presses inside, into you, he lets a moan rip from his throat. you see the muscles on his abdomen rippling under the tight freckled skin and your conscience finally gives out.
“way better with you under me,” he blurts out.
you agree. so much better. so much deeper.
he pushes and pushes and when his hips are flush with yours he settles there, the heavy weight of his body pressing into yours. you love when he goes slow and deep, thumping your slick red pussy lips.
your ankles tremble. despite the lack of control you still want to have the visual of his cock plowing into you.
“so good, si…”
“you feel good, doll,” he has the brain to return your compliment, always does. you don’t know how it is possible but you’re blushing. look at you, look what a compliment does to you. he probably doesn’t even notice it.
but simon does. he does notice all the obscure little things.
he smiles crookedly, dips his head, low on his forearms and gives you a kiss on your cheek. the action almost undoes your tiny mess of a heart.
“i need you to come on my cock again,” the words come punctuated with tight breaths. it’s not so much a request as it is a demand. it’s also a promise. you clenched around him, your pussy even more shy than you are.
he winces when your second orgasm hits you, and holds you by your hips, unceasingly fucking you through it.
“come inside me.”
the words are out of your mouth before you can stop yourself. his hips falter and break the pace.
“tha’s not fair, you know what this phrase does t’ me,” he tries to save his crumbling sense of control.
“please, please, simon”, you beg him, unbothered of your own shame, “need to feel it, need you to come inside.”
“i can, pretty girl? can pump this pretty pussy of yours full of my come? make you forget your name?” he grunts out, every question punctuated by increasingly harder thrusts.
you nod eagerly. “yes, please. i want it.”
“fuck, doll,” he draws out. he latches his mouth onto your neck and starts pounding into you like it’s the last time he’ll have your body to toy with. it’s not.
you relish in the moment when he starts quietly whining, the sounds of his pleasure only driving yours into the next universe.
he snakes one hand between your bodies and starts flicking your clit, slick with your pleasure. your body thrums under his hands, tingles zapping through you like lightning.
“one more time, doll,” simon rasps, “i need you to come with me. can you do tha’ f’ me?”
“yes, si,” you sob, “please, i’m gonna come!”
your legs fall open further and your tongue falls out of your mouth, completely unsure if you want to receive his seed in your throat or your pussy. let him decide.
his brain short-circuits at the sight, and before he knows better he settles two fingers into your mouth. your tongue immediately swirls around them and you suck on his digits like it’s his slick cock making the inside of your mouth so hot.
you come hard, shuddering, chanting for him to come inside, your vision escaping you as you feel him plug your pussy with his hot seed.
when the panting calms down he rests comfortably atop you, and you are content with it. you don’t want him to pull out.
you both are so far gone.
he lazily laps at your neck and jaw, sucks your earlobe in, nips at your collarbone. kneads your plush hips, denting the sweet flesh. slowly makes you forget your name.
“almost bit my fingers off,” he smiles into the soft spot behind your ear.
you swat at him, granting him your most colorful laugh yet. simon is giddy for he is the only one here to behold you as you are.
“thanks,” you whisper into his hair, “doesn’t hurt anymore.”
he gives your hip a firm squeeze.
“always happy to lend a hand for my sweet girl.”
“oh, that, you are,” you giggle.
contentment swirls comfortably in your body. as you’re laying in his bed, under his weight, you realize you won’t ever ask anyone else for help. you both know of it.
i do not consent to feeding ai with my works so shoo the fuck away
after the longest time when he was basically sustaining on military rations that are pretty much just ship’s biscuits, and water, and a processed meat if we’re being generous, coming home to a warm freshly cooked meal has him on cloud nine.
he’s so blissed out after dinner sitting on the couch with you, tv low in the background, warm meal in his belly. his hands are resting on your shins, weakly squishing the flesh once in a while as he sleepily tells you how he’s been. you truly got him so pliant and soft that he won’t protest when you climb onto his lap and start kissing him slowly but thoroughly.
you’ve been missing him like mad and you’ve been so patient this first day for him to settle in your home and let go of the tenseness. and you believe if you wait just a tad longer your insides will curl onto themselves. so you don’t wait anymore. and it feels good, feels like home. holding his sleepy smiling face in your hands, straddling his thighs. slowly, you start to rock your hips just enough to make him uncomfortable in his own pants. his hands on your waist tense ever so slightly and start to move on their own. you relish in the heat that builds up between you. the faint shaky breaths, saliva on your lips, the pink on his cheeks, his nose tickling yours. this feels like heaven. you explore his mouth, curl your tongue over his, move on to his jaw, and then the neckline, licking it, sucking the skin. marking? marking. he grunts and you bare your teeth in a smile. his hands knead the flesh of your waist, ass and thighs, leaving little dents from his fingernails. you inhale sharply and whine when he gets a little carried away.
‘baby’, you whisper. a warning. or a plead. maybe both.
‘shhh i know’, he soothes you and brushes your hair. it has gotten away from you when his attention shifted from being languidly unaware of his surroundings to very concentrated on making your flesh feel how bad he missed you.
you stare at your spit trickling down the cords of his neck to his collarbone. enamored, you raise you finger to it, contemplating if you want to take a bite (if?), and smother it all over his freckled skin. lowering your head, you decide to taste your work. the skin is warm and uneven under your tongue.
simon loves his warm welcome meal and you love yours.
tw: sexy sex, no plot, well maybe minor plot, breeding kink if you squint, general nasty behavior, uneducated scottish accent mimicking
minors shoo! away!
you knew what you’ve been doing all along. wearing all those skimpy little frilly shorts and tops when your roommate is home. but you just didn’t have any other choice. you didn’t, because it was Johnny.
it was Johnny and you just wanted to tease him. just the slightest little bit, not doing too much. bending down at the right time. batting your eyelashes and always wearing that damned red lipgloss that made him hot in the face. really you were just bored, honestly, and isn’t it mighty fun teasing your sexy roommate when he’s home from wherever he’s been? definitely, in your opinion.
so, if all of this was just the smallest most innocent bit of teasing why then, for the love of gods, you are now finding yourself breathing heavily while Johnny is slipping a finger inside of you under that heavy blanket and it feels hot all over. you whispered his name a thousand times by now, your head on his shoulder, eyes closed and hot breath leaving your open lips. the joke is definitely blown out of proportion by now.
you were so giddy when you both agreed to stay in and watch a movie tonight. ‘he’ll get his serving of Netflix and chill.' you thought, arrogantly and not matter-of-factly. you put on some scary horror movie and your panties were wet after you let the first jumpscare frighten you so much you grabbed onto the couch and jerked. Johnny laughed and made a remark about somebody being a “scaredy cat” and scooted you over near himself, draped his arm across the back of the couch letting you lean into him. all with talking your ears off about how you’re a little pussy not able to watch a scary movie with dignity. the second jumpscare you grabbed onto him. you were leaking arousal. that’s how horror movies work, right? anyway. at the end of the day, you were just bored and he was Johnny.
he was Johnny, the handsome 6’2” scot with a mohawk you didn’t really know a lot about. ‘sure, hen.’ he’d reply, when you asked him to tell a little bit about himself. he was employed, paid bills, mentioned some friends. you guessed he was some kind of private contractor, due to the state of his form. nobody keeps himself in that tip top of a shape if they’re not having to apply said form in various physical ways.
‘physical ways’, your mind wandered off. you smiled crookedly at your thoughts instantly remembering the smile, or rather the grin, he gave you whenever your teasing became too on the nose. he’d always acknowledge it by looking straight into your eyes smiling like he’d just stolen something from you, and wanted you to guess what it was. an interesting and endearing reaction. to you, it was encouraging. 'how the fuck', you thought, 'am I supposed to not tease him? it’s so easy!' you thought. in reality, you were hooked like a little fish.
you stifle a moan and your chest heaves with hot air as you melt into him more by the second. you feel his hands everywhere which is a bit preposterous, you try to reason, but then he slips his finger out of your wet heat and all thought leaves your brain.
‘this is not fair,’ you whisper in a pleading voice. ‘stop teasing!’ you don’t really know why you’re whispering, you guess it will be a legitimation of your endeavors with him if you speak aloud.
‘tha’s rich comin’ from ye, bonnie.’ he replies, and you just know he’s smiling with his crooked fucking smile which commanded you to start teasing him the first time you saw it. really, you had no other choice but to do it. it’s his fault. you wiggle and squirm on his lap while he holds you tight against his chest. you don’t really want him to let go. 'yep', you think, 'the joke’s over'. you want him to hold you tighter, his chest pressed against you, his big arms holding you. you want to feel like a helpless pliant thing. you want to feel his hard-on against your backside. you want him to fuck you. that, you say to him, under your breath.
‘say what, hen, didn’t quite hear ya.’ he rasps into your ear.
'that bastard', you think. you can almost hear the shit-eating grin he has on his face. you take a couple of breaths, in and out, just to cool you off before you say something so embarrassing. you feel his fingers, wet with your arousal, on your hip.
‘I want you to fuck me, Johnny, please… please just…’ you stutter out a bit louder and after a skipped heartbeat you feel rumble in his chest.
‘and how should I do it?’ he inquires. you think it’s a joke but silence proves he is genuine. 'what a fucking cockroach, making me say all that', you think.
‘just… put it in now, please,’ you mutter, feeling your face get hot. all your arrogance and attitude gone all of a sudden.
‘sure, hen.’ he spreads your legs wider with a demanding tap on your thigh. his fingers circle your pussy lips spreading them slightly apart, working them. 'please', you think. he kisses your ear and slightly bites it, leaving it cold and wet and your face even more hot. you feel his leaky tip touching your lips, prying them open. you know you are not able to take him fully now, but you just want to sit in his lap while he tries to fit himself in.
with a low grunt he slips in and your eyes roll to the back of your skull. your hand shoots to his thigh and squeezes it so hard your manicured nails dig into the skin. he breathes out shakily into the back of your neck and snakes an arm around your stomach to steady both of you. you’ve never felt him touch so much of your exposed skin and it is overwhelmingly nice. your brain is melting. you timidly buck your hips ever so slightly just to feel how far you can go. not that far. but it’s enough for now. you start to slide on his dick, trying to get more friction and you feel his arms tightening their hold.
‘fuck’, he forces out, squeezing his hand on your hip in a warning.
‘feels good’, you plead, eyebrows furrowed from all the effort you’re putting in. after a while you slump in his hold, breathing heavily.
‘not enough… i want it deeper’, you whisper into the air.
‘jesus christ, pet.'
you hear a hiss, a grunt and a ‘what are yer doin’ t’ me’. his cock slips out and next thing you know, you’re on your back.
‘thank you’, you smile and immediately reach your hands to slip your fingers into his black hair. you wanted to do it for so long now. it feels even better than you’d imagined. it appears to you that you are awfully vulnerable right now. you realize you trust him enough not to sabotage this moment of yours. you are so needy you don’t really care anyway.
he chuckles and shakes his head. 'he’s pretty' you think. he sits back, spits on your pussy, and lines himself up and you cuss yourself out for those butterflies in your stomach that threaten to coil into something more vulgar. you bite your pointer finger, because if you make any sound now it will be really embarrassing.
Johnny slaps your dripping cunt with his heavy dick making that soft pleading sound escape you still. that sound made him twitch against your core and as this knowledge gets to your brain you smile, realizing he is just as desperate.
he pushes the tip in, your legs tremble and you exhale shakily with relief.
his low grunts and raspy moans fill your ears, your mind, he fills the entirety of your space and you don’t want it to end. his dick slides in and out so sweetly, but he keeps that torturous slow pace and his grin is really annoying. at this point you decide you’re over his attitude, really, you’re over both of you, and you reach out to pull him into a kiss. you kiss him sloppily, sucking on his tongue. his stubble is gently overstimulating your senses. you lick his teeth and your lips after that. his hips falter. it is hot all over.
he cannot keep the steady leisurely pace after that. he gives you long passionate thrusts and you feel him going in to the base. you start to feel dizzy and lose reason completely and your tongue unties, finally.
‘it feels so good with you’, you babble out, legs spread as wide as the couch allows, to welcome him into your heat as deep as possible, ‘please don’t stop, please, please.’ you sob and mewl, eyes watering and chest tight with desire for more. he fucks you faster and you chant his name with each thrust. ‘tha’s it, pretty girl, come f'me.’ he feels your walls flutter and tighten and it takes all of him not to come inside of you when you so sweetly come all over his dick.
his broken hiss reverberates through you body, his dick twitching inside you while you come down from your high.
‘ye ok, pet?’ he asks, ‘ye need’a minute?’ all the while starting to move his hips again. you jolt from the overstimulation.
‘ah! Johnny, sensitive!’
‘sensitive?’ he coos, ‘ok, hen, I’ll give yer little pussy a break.’ he settles comfortably inside of you. you feel so small suddenly.
it is maybe your fourth orgasm when he decided it appropriate time for him to come. your second orgasm came fast after he started pounding you relentlessly.
him rabidly whispering ‘ye’ll squirt f'me, pet, I’ll make ye’ is all you can recall before your third one because you really did. for him.
you’re so fucked out, your tongue is out and you look at him through half lidded eyes when you feel his pace starts to quicken and break.
‘Johnny, please, inside.’
‘pet.’ he speaks, warningly. ‘don’t say tha’, he grunts, ‘unless ye really want me t'.’
you lock your legs behind his back.
his thrusts become frenzied and he sounds dangerous ‘ye really wan’ me t’ come in ya?’
‘yes, please.’ you plead softly.
‘fuck.’ he swears in a cracked voice, his accent thick, grabs you by the hips, where you’re sure to find violet marks next morning, and fucks himself with your pussy, like it’s so easy to lift your flaccid body and jerk himself off with it. you come simultaneously with him, your legs shaking and stomach jumpy. Johnny comes inside you, spurting his thick hot come. he lays down on you, burrowing his nose in the crook of your neck, making his weight your stabilizer, grounding, and comforting.
you lay there, feeling his come leak out of you, lazily messing up his hair, not wanting him to pull out. wanting to feel more of his hot breath on your neck and his tongue lapping at your collarbone, his chest rising and falling, steadily. you want to lay like this a little bit longer. under him, pressed into the couch by his weight, safe.
