simon’s not a virgin by any means, but the first time he sinks his thick cock into your tight, sweet little cunt, he absolutely loses it.
the sugary tone in which you gave him permission to fuck you after he asked, begged you so nicely, like he was even deserving of it.
how he has to bite down on the rugged knuckle of his fist when he presses the head of his cock to your soaked cunny, failing to stifle down his groans but already too fucked-out to care whatsoever once he bottoms out (or at least as much of his cock he’s able to fit in).
the way his name spills from your puffy lips when he finally starts to move, just barely an inch in and out with each ‘thrust’ because you’re just so fucking warm and welcoming and he doesn’t want to separate from you for even a split moment.
how your fingertips lightly graze between the divots of his flexed, pronounced abs, nails raking over his skin with a softness no one has ever shown him. he’s turning greedy for you; needs more and more.
you turn dumb in a matter of seconds. so dumb, in fact, you haven’t even noticed he finished inside you the instant his cock was fully sheathed within your tummy, and how he’s already coaxing out his second load to join the first one fucked deep into your womb.
and you can’t even blame him, considering he was fucked utterly stupid from the moment he set eyes on you :(
would i be crazy for saying ghost enjoys (mostly) clothed sex more than anything. well, more for him than you.
like, just being able to get you down to your cute bra and panties, propping you up on his desk so he can thumb at the swollen, little bud beneath the cotton you wear. humming when the fabric starts to get wet and sticky, playing with the puffy thing as he pleases.
you contradict him in every way; pretty, pink lingerie hugging your frame a stark contrast to the black, heavy-duty cargos that hang off his hips and an equally dark, though certainly not loose, t-shirt to show off his broad shoulders. soft skin up against his rough exterior, gentle lips pressed to his scratchy beard. your clothes intricately detailed, light and lovingly cared for, while his are embedded with smoke and gunpowder and an overwhelming need to devour you whole. you’re far too sweet for him, he thinks.
he drinks in your sounds, the soft little hums that spill from your throat when your jaw falls lax shooting straight to his dick. his lips even twitch into a smile when your hands fist at his shirt, your hips nudging forward a bit when his knuckles graze your nerves teasingly.
he snickers at your giggles when he has you unbuckle his belt for him, just ‘cause he finds it amusing when your fingers struggle a bit with the leather in your dazed state. a tender grip on your wrist guiding your hand into his boxers rather shamelessly, having you knead him to a full erection before you’re finally allowed to take it out.
he usually hands you whatever you’d like and on a silver platter, without the need to even ask, but sometimes he makes you earn it. he promises it’s for your own good, sweetheart. you can’t complain.
he carefully urges one of your legs up and onto the desk, knee bent with your foot planted right on the edge for better leverage, a more depraved sight. rubs the pretty tip of his cock up against your wet spot, the only intimate bit of him exposed as his fingers are curled tightly around his shaft, guiding his movements.
and he fucks you just like that; your panties pulled to the side, further ruining the perfect pair as he gradually pushes into your sweet cunt.
he’s benign at first—slow and careful as he gives you time to adjust to the stretch, hardly moving much at all as he lays kiss after kiss to your forehead as a means of grounding you—but it isn’t long before you’re crumbling into that world where you’re dizzy, dumb on his cock, and the only noises coming from you are sharp huffs punched straight from your lungs. he isn’t too fast with you, but he’s fucking deep, and big in every sense of the word.
he holds you delicately compared to it all, with his hands at your waist and hips, giving you a faint squeeze in allotted intervals that seem to match up with his groans. similar to that of a cat preparing its sleeping place.
you know that’s what he plans for later, anyways. your pussy always knocks him out.
and sure, he’ll let you hike the hem of his t-shirt up just enough to stare down at his pretty abs, to rake your nails across his navel as he renders you speechless on his cock. he might even have you take it off for him completely if he’s going for multiple rounds with you.
but otherwise, that’s the best you’ll get from him on most days.
perhaps it’s the power dynamic, or maybe he simply feels more comfortable like that; either way, you know it’s fucking hot.
just imagine ghost getting his Jacob's ladder piercing while he's dating you and after it's healed yall have sex for the first time and it's just like sensory overload
i know absolutely nothing about piercings, but this idea is simply too good to pass up. my brain is melting.
hmmm, thinking about ghost who, despite not being able to properly get off himself, is still so attentive to his sweet girl throughout the whole healing process; offering you his mouth and fingers whenever he notices your focus beginning to drift off and shift elsewhere, having you rub yourself up on his jean-clad thigh when you can’t seem to shake the burst of energy.
because while you never outright asked him for anything of the kind, he just knew.
and even if you were the one so insistent on following the piercer’s advice—taking each and every precaution possible in avoiding the risks that simon shrugged off as ‘not gonna happen.’—you still felt bad. though, he couldn’t resist your stern pouting for long, turning weak the moment you cocked your head and promised him a sweet treat when he’s all healed up.
so, of course, ‘whatever you say, doll.’
anything to put your pretty mind at ease. he is a soldier, after all. he can wait, even if it kills him. it got pretty damn close to it, too.
which is what makes the first time back so fucking good. that reunion, and the return of that glimmering look you get in your eyes every other time he presses his pink lips to your collar and gently hikes you up the mattress after a long time away.
and truthfully, he was done in the moment you tapped him on his shoulder and told him to guess what day it was.
“shit, baby—” he grits out with a heavy breath, eyes trained on your own as he watches you reverently lick up the underside of his cock. your fingers tighten around the base when his abs pull taut, tongue gliding over the cool metal.
taking your time in feeling each and every barbell leading to the tip, making him twitch in your hand at the hot and wet drag over his sensitive skin. a heavy breath seeps from his lungs, his jaw clenching as he fights to hold off. jesus, you’re too good to him.
a sweet fucking treat, indeed.
you giggle before taking the head of him between your swollen, spit-stained lips, reveling in the quick hiss he sucks in through his teeth as you whine at the familiar taste of his pre leaking onto your tongue. your other hand slips up his thigh while you squeeze your own together, your freshly done-up nails leaving little, pink crescent shapes in his thick skin.
“fuck— not gonna last ‘f you keep that up,” he warns, a struggle in and of itself, and it’s an utter miracle he doesn’t collapse to the floor when you only hollow your cheeks and suck in response. he hardly manages to stifle an embarrassingly whorish moan at that.
god, you look so pretty down there, on your knees for him. so fucking debauched, and so, so perfect.
the way your thumb toys with the piercings as you have your own fun, and how you preen in his hold like a sweet cat when he slips a hand to the back of your neck. he’s going to miss it when he forces himself to pull you away, frowning at the pout you give him as he’s lifting you off your feet and carrying you over to your bed.
“’m sorry, sweetheart… just too fuckin’ pretty for yer old man anymore— didn’t want it t’go to waste.”
he kisses your temple, mumbling his apologies in your hair. you hardly even register your bare back making contact with your sheets, so wrapped up in his hold, before he’s kissing his way down your neck.
“wanna fill yer pretty cunt,” he murmurs, and it’s nearly incoherent as his lips press against your racing pulse point. “make ‘er cum ‘round my cock… know y’missed it too, sweet girl. a proper fuck…”
he’s talking more to himself than anything, and a small gasp from you follows soon after when his arm is snaked between your bodies and his fingertips make contact with your swollen, little clit. won’t even stretch you out with his fingers; he’s had his fill of that over the course of the last month. let him feel how much you missed his cock.
“poor thing’s soaked f’me, baby.” he groans as he adjusts on his forearm and regains his bearings, dick twitching against your thigh with every noise squeaked out from your throat. “cunt’s gonna take me just right, lovie… so fuckin’ well…”
he rambles a lot when he’s needy, you’ve come to learn.
you whine when his hand leaves you to take his cock in a fist, your nails digging into his chest and shoulder when he presses the head to your messy pussy. just the tip in and you’re already seeing stars, the shared moan between the two of you raw and pornographic.
he’s gritting out his swears before you try to shush his dirty mouth with a kiss, and he accepts it greedily, almost too eagerly.
your body reacts to his, simultaneously craving more and trying to wiggle away from the overwhelming sensation all at once. your brain is fuzzy by the time he’s nearly bottoming out inside you, ears deaf to the unabashed sounds spilling from your lips as the feeling of his fresh piercings dragging against your every sweet spot burns itself into your memory.
and before you can catch your breath, a thumb is being pressed up against your sensitive bud once again, your legs constricting around him involuntarily as you jolt with a cry. heat prickles at your skin, his teeth at your jaw making your spine tingle.
he’s telling you to cum, begging you to make a mess of his cock.
his hand picks up its pace, hips grinding against yours sloppier than ever as he pleads right up against your temple for you to use him, just finish him off, fucking cum for him.
you squeeze around his cock like a vice and pull him straight under with you, arms locked tight around his neck as your pretty cunt utterly wrecks him. making him throb and twitch, fucking himself dumb through his high and wringing him dry of everything he’s kept pent up for you. at least for now, anyway.
his and your panting rings out in the room as he sits back on his knees, his cock still hard as he gently pulls out of you. watching his pearly cum bead from your slit, your chest gradually slowing down within the time he takes to drool over the sight of you.
it’s not long before simon has you laying on your tummy with your head in the soft sheets, a pillow slipped underneath your hips to prop you up. not making you do an ounce of work as he uses your warm, pliant cunt as his sweet cum dump for hours on end.
fucking you gently, lovingly, all while trying his best to keep his weight off your back. he kisses behind your ear, cooing praises and choked grunts that make your tummy flutter with butterflies. you can only giggle into the pillow nestled in your arms as he makes up for all the lost time.
filling you with load after load, the number becoming lost on your fuzzy mind after a certain amount, until your belly is achingly full and his cock is numb from overstimulation. only to coax you onto your back, easing your limp legs apart to watch his cum leak from your pretty hole. pressing a flat palm to your lower tummy, sighing in time with your strangled noises as your sensitive pussy drips more of his spend. leaning forward and licking it all up like some starved mutt; groaning at the taste, arms tightening around your hips as he eats his mess out of his pretty girl.
(nsfw p!visuals) simon riley who would absolutely adore recreating these [one + two] photos with his pretty girl <3
it started off as something small, only for himself in the moment, where he’d have you sit just behind his cock for a patient few seconds as he admired the sight; how you looked straddling his thighs, how fucking deep he’d be hitting in your tummy, all before watching you slowly sink down on the mean thing like the sweet, eager-to-please girl you are.
but it quickly became not enough for him—he needed you to see it for yourself. for you to realize just how much he treats you to every night, for you to be more proud of your effort on the rare occasions you do try to ride him. because fuck, is it a lot to take in.
so, one night, he reaches for his phone on the nightstand after coaxing you into such a position. you’re shy at first, though it lessens a bit when you learn he’s merely snapping a quick photo, not a video.
relax, doll, he tells you. just a little somethin’ for myself, yeah?
and well, you can’t be mad at that. especially when the cock you’re craving so badly is resting right up against your belly, taunting your poor pussy into throbbing.
look’it that, simon coos gently, pride lacing his tone as he turns the screen towards you. you nearly choke on a quick breath, heat prickling at the surface of your cheeks. y’see how deep i go, lovie?
besides, you know how pent up he gets when he’s away… and maybe you wouldn’t mind having a little something for keepsake, as well.
ghost fucking himself dumb with your pussy while he sucks on your fingers, shoved knuckle-deep between his pink, swollen lips. bucking his hips unrhythmically, nothing but needy, and with hearts in his eyes as he stares down at your pretty, pliant body.
his poor dick throbs surrounded by your tight warmth, his harsh grip on your hips minute to the way he’s relentlessly rubbing up against that sweet spot in you.
he’s already filled you up once and he’s barreling towards another high in the matter of seconds, evident with the sweat slicking his biceps, the heavy rise and fall of his chest in short intervals, even his lesser-controlled noises that spill out around your digits. there’s no such thing as a ‘quickie’ with this man; he can’t help but always press past one round, especially after you ask him so, so nicely for more.
jaw slacking as his abs pull taut with the pressure building in his tummy, eyes fluttering shut on their own volition, posture lurching forward above you when he spills his cum deep inside you. grinding himself through his high, sloppy as ever, and you’ve never felt more satisfied as you take in his every expression.
he’s grown obsessed with the feeling of having his mouth stuffed full. allowing himself to turn utterly light-headed and brain-dead around you, to touch and fuck you unsophisticatedly, and without a worry in the slightest.
poor simon settling for just the tip with his pretty girl late at night, having just gotten home from work and finding her sleeping soundly in their bed. he gently coaxes you awake, going against every nerve in his worn out body to let you rest, and he asks you so, so nicely.
begs, more like it, and you simply can’t refuse.
with your sweet permission, he slicks up his cockhead and eases it into your little hole with some effort from the both of you, his eyes fluttering shut as he fights to maintain his promise. just the tip.
and he shows such good restraint for you! moaning through his clenched jaw as he slowly fucks the tip of his cock in and out of your pretty pussy, whining when the exposed length of his dick pulses from neglect. he’s sat back on his knees and heels with your hips pulled into his lap, not trusting his tired muscles enough for missionary. still, he can’t keep his hands off of you.
he may be desperate, but he couldn’t bring himself to hurt or force anything onto his princess. that would be the true death of simon riley. he even runs a gentle thumb over your swollen clit to make you melt into the pillows, urge those lovely little noises from your lips, the same ones he’s been hearing in his daydreams while he’s at work.
they make his dick throb, the seasoned soldier’s hand trembling as it soothes over your lower tummy. gosh, he missed you so much.
and you read it all on his face; how much he respects your wishes, but also how badly he needs relief. the slackened jaw, panting chest, droopy eyes heavy beneath furrowed brows. it makes you frown.
“simon,” you whine out softly, and his eyes snap up to meet yours. the look on your face makes him stifle a choked moan. “c’mere…”
you reach up as he leans forward for you and, to his surprise, you tug him in by his neck for a needy kiss. you wrap your legs around his lower back as best you can, locking them tight in the divot of pure muscle, and you reel him in closer.
consequently, the rest of his cock fully sheathes inside you and the sudden stretch makes you whimper out, him groaning loudly like a whore as he buries his heated face in your collar. christ, he fucking came just from one stroke of tight, wet warmth. and it feels so good, too good for him. he works hard, you think, he deserves it.
you giggle as you hold your baby close, let him catch his breath and grasp his settings before he rolls over, you held clasped in his arms.
he falls asleep in the matter of seconds, with his face in your chest and his dick in your cunt, like a good soldier. probably mutters some strained apology in between, even though you couldn’t be happier.
ghost and his horrible habit of falling asleep on your tummy, using it as a comfy pillow after going down on you for the past hour, maybe two. you keep telling him you need to clean up but he promises he’ll do it for you later, just let him bask in the quiet moment for a few more minutes… until you go to poke him five minutes later and he’s out cold.
it’s your fault for being so damn kindhearted and sweet on him!! scratching the back of his head and neck as you praise him for how good he made you feel, your doughy thighs squishing his temples so soothingly, grounding him back on earth so effortlessly. you’re his favorite safe-space, and your gentle breathing once you’ve finally come down from the high he gave you is simply far too welcoming for him to not be tempted. even if you do manage to wake him up soon, it’s still some of the best sleep in his entire, rugged existence.
something about the way könig wraps both his arms around your entire frame and cages you in as he fucks you in prone…
something about his meaty biceps, which have surpassed the width of your skull, constricting around your own as his equally impressive forearms are pressed tightly to your front, sandwiched between your bared chest and the mattress. occasionally palming at your cute tits greedily, maybe even coming up to wrap around your exposed neck and dig two fingers into your racing pulse point.
each snap of his hips pushing all the remaining air from your lungs in sharp huffs that turn into whines the harder he goes, causing you to claw at his arm in some attempt to urge him to slow down as you drool all over your pillow. sometimes it works, and other times he snickers sweetly before cooing to his pretty girl that he knows you can take it.
you always immediately change your mind and pout about it when he does listen to you, anyways.
something about the manner in which he pants and grunts in your ear so shamelessly with every time he bottoms out in your tight cunny, sucking him in and treating him so well despite the painful stretch. his groans mingling with your strained, soft whimpers so prettily, and so pornographically. next time, he murmurs into your temple, he’ll have to put this on film for when he’s far away from the home which is your sweet, sticky cunt and pliant body beneath him.
and finally, there’s just something in the idea that he could crush you where you lay, so easily. the fact that you’d be helpless against his strength not fleeing from your thoughts no matter how fucked-out you become, the knowledge that he’s far past the achievement of strong enough incessantly swarming your naive mind. the mean-sounding german he mumbles against the back of your head making your tummy flip in its place, reminding you that he’s in power, and that anything is a possibility when he’s in this sort of headspace.
but maybe that’s why you like it so much; he doesn’t, and he never has, even when he could. and that makes you all the needier for more, and he utterly adores you for how much you trust him.
instead, he snakes a hand below your belly and wrings you dry of countless messy orgasms, forcing your overworked body to convulse and come around his cock until you’ve ultimately lost your voice and he can fuck his warm spend deep into your waiting core.
because he’s a sweetheart like that, but only for you.
ghost who just loves playing with your precious cunt with his hand stuffed down your pretty panties. seeing how his knuckles stretch the cotton as it fights to fit his large hand, watching the fabric gradually soak with the mess he’s making you make. coaxing orgasm after fucking orgasm from your trembling body as he coos sweet praises in your ear and listens to your babbling of pleads along with his name, before leaning back to watch as you claw and scratch at his wrist and tumble over the edge of euphoria for the nth time.
he works your poor cunny ‘til your thighs are clamping around his arm on their own volition, and his fingers are pruned and his knuckles are locking up, but even then he still wants to continue! :(
and afterwards he cleans you up so, so gently. peeling your sticky panties from your shaky legs, tossing them in the hamper in case they’re salvageable (they aren’t). kissing your temple and forehead and the tip of your nose as your teeth buzz in aftershocks, totally not brushing your swollen nerves lightly with the warm rag on purpose just to hear you whimper and jolt one last time before you knock out.
he coddles and holds you tight as you nap soundly on his chest, now kissing the crown of your skull as he murmurs quiet remarks about how well you did for him, just how proud he is of his princess <3
simon riley would be running around the house playing airplane with his daughter perched on his shoulders and then get distracted, probably by your pretty voice coming from another room asking for his help. he comes to your aid, as always, but ends up so fixated on finding you that he forgets to duck through the doorway and your kiddo wounds up with a wall to the face, doorframe bonking her in the brow hard, the little thud echoing through the room.
you gasp, dropping everything you’ve got in your hands to join simon in cradling her with endless sympathy and ‘sorry’s, smoothing over the little red mark appearing quickly on her skin.
and, oh, he feels guilty. like, painfully so. this is worse than any war crimes he’s committed, by far.
he’ll break the geneva conventions a thousand times over before even daring to put a single scratch on his precious family.
but your little girl doesn’t cry, at all. not even for a second.
all giggles and smiles as she rubs her forehead and exclaims faux disappointment in her daddy, and simon takes so much pride in that. claiming he only raises tough girls, you included as he’s ruffling your hair. you kiss both their cheeks and hum in agreement, opting not to suggest that maybe she’s like this because the exact same thing has happened more times than you can count, to a t.
simon riley loves letting you play with him. he adores when you push him around, and while he doesn’t think he could ever allow himself to fully lose his guard, he merely goes dumb when you have him.
when you hold his face in both of your gentle hands, soft against his scars and stubble as you look at him with nothing but benevolence.
pinching his cheeks between your fingers to get him to open his mouth, jaw falling slack to welcome your other ring and middle fingers against his tongue, knuckles nestled between his pink lips.
he keeps his eyes on yours, somewhere far in the back of his mind wondering what exactly made him like this—how the big, bad ghost had wound up on his knees for a pretty girl such as yourself, half his stature and with not an ounce of meanness in your bones—before his brows are pinching and he’s groaning lowly around your digits as you apply more pressure down onto his rough tongue.
like him fucking you in missionary; the way his shoulders completely block your field of vision and his large hand planted right by your ear dwarfs your own by the masses. his meaty, veiny arm leading up to his panting chest, usually pressed fully against your own as it gets him so worked up to feel your tummy and tits, hard nipples and soft skin grazing his calloused build. the big man comes with big scars!!
speaking of scars, he gets so fucking weak in the knees and heart when you pay attention to his various marks scattered on him. he never tells you the full stories—rarely even a spec of the truth, most often—but he still gets a little flustered when you kiss them better.
simon can usually hold it together, but sometimes (all the time) he gets sooo hard and blushy when you touch and squeeze his biceps and feel up his abs. call him your strong and impressive man and he’ll have you on your hands and knees in the matter of seconds, shoving his dick in you from behind to cover up how pink his cheeks turned.
he loves coming up behind you in the bathroom while you’re getting ready, putting on your pretty lipgloss or adjusting the bow in your hair while he watches through the mirror like a quiet, curious dog.
seeing how the width of your shoulders only reach his pecs when you’re centered at his front, and christ, the height difference.
placing his large palms on your hips, one of them maneuvering to flatten out on your tummy and pull you further into him. he wraps his arms around your entire frame for the tightest bear hug ever.
call him cliché, but he has such an evil habit of comparing your hand sizes. it turns him on and makes you giggle, each and every time.
the one time you asked him to slip his arm around your waist and head in the crook of your collar for a mirror picture had resulted in your neck being sandwiched between his bicep and forearm, and long lasting marks on your hips from where they hit the counter repeatedly as he fucked you hard in a chokehold.
you just get him so riled up! but it’s okay, because he kissed your temple a lot throughout and afterwards apologized with cuddles for ruining your nice outfit and makeup <3
ex-boyfriend simon riley making you admit you still love him if you wanna cum <3
he can be such a jerk sometimes! calling you up one evening, claiming he was just wanting to check in on you and how you know how overbearing protective he can be sometimes, acting surprised when you snapped at him barely after his greeting.
“what has you so frustrated, hm, dove?… christ, can practically feel you seethin’ through the screen.”
you bit your tongue and gave him the truth over the phone; how he shouldn’t be calling you without warning like this considering you’ve broken up, and it’s inappropriate to be labeling you those sweet pet names you unfortunately and unknowingly still adore deep down.
how you don’t appreciate his abrasive bluntness, then again, he should know very well that you never have liked that part about him.
you told him the truth, though you couldn’t be entirely honest with him, in the sense of how fucking needy you’ve become with his absence. for touch and care, proximity and security, and all that.
but you are over him, undoubtedly, and you let him know that.
“yeah, baby, whatever you say…
…bet you rub that little cunt raw every night thinkin’ve me.”
and that shut you up quick.
he hummed in understanding, like your silence was readable.
“poor girl prob’ly hasn’t had any proper attention since i’ve been gone… shame such a pretty thing has to be so neglected, eh?”
butterflies invaded your tummy at the compliment, and you cursed yourself for your hasty, blind acceptance of it. but you can't blame yourself; what girl wouldn’t at least begin to crumble at that voice?
“i’m right, yeah?” he taunted, and it almost made you sick when you caught yourself rubbing your thighs together at his meanness.
“c’mon, sweetheart… you know you can be honest wi’ me.”
and god, was his cocky tone so infuriating; you wanted to reach through the phone and slap his smug face straight for overstepping your relationship’s boundaries so blatantly, and with such a deeply rooted nonchalance in his voice that always had you heated and wet.
“say the word, ‘nd i’ll come over and fuck you right now.”
…which is why you had eventually asked him oh, so nicely:
“please..?”
you could practically hear the shit-eating grin on his face, followed by the faint noises of boots hitting hardwood floor and then the clicking of a door’s lock, the obnoxious ringing of keys clanging together.
“just give me ten minutes, doll.”
and now, as he bullies and buries his cock deep in your warm cunt, reaching all those sweet spots you or another man could never even come close to, you can’t really think much of his misbehavior.
truthfully, you can’t think much of anything at all, at the moment.
he had teased you prior to finally managing his way inside you, for god knows how long. his mouth, his fingers, his cockhead; all had brought you to the edge rather quickly, over and over after each other, but he was yet to give you that final push.
he puts his full body’s weight on you, strong pecs pressed up against your heaving, sensitive tits, and his stubble tickling your neck unceasingly. you can’t stop squirming and writhing beneath him, and his hot groans right up against your skin aren’t helping, either.
it’s always been a feat taking his cock, being crammed in your precious cunt almost every night when you two were together, but now it’s been weeks, and you nearly forgot just how big he was.
you missed it, admittedly. all of it; the veins and ridges, the unforgiving stretch. the slight twinge of pain he always hushed with his fingertips pressing your swollen, little clit, or a calloused thumb shoved between your puffy lips to suck on and drool over to distract yourself.
you missed his stamina, his libido. most striking of all, his selflessness in the entire act. he’s a soldier, he serves you right. most times.
“fuckin’ christ, sweetheart… missed this tight, messy thing wrapped ‘round my cock… practically stranglin’ me ‘n with no remorse, eh?”
shit, and you missed his dirty talk most of all.
“gonna fill this pretty, little pussy… keep ‘er happy all night, make up for lost time with my girl.” he wraps his hand gently around your jaw, making your eyes meet his. “you’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
you nod frantically, swallow as best you can, before sucking in a breath. “yeah— yes, please, si… i-i want it really bad… please.”
he kisses your lips with a smile, and then all over the side of your face, up to your forehead. he just can’t seem to stop kissing you.
“tell me, sweetheart. y’wanna cum, too?”
“i do, si—! i really, really do- fuck, please?” you beg and beg, and as much as it turns him on, digs at his heart to just give in, he sticks to his guns and merely adds:
“then say the words, pretty girl,” he coos, making you whimper in frustration. “that’s it, y’know what i wanna hear.”
you huff a whine in response, albeit your breath is strangled when he doesn’t halt his movements for even a second.
you really, really don’t want to give him the satisfaction.
he’s nearly panting himself, big chest and even bigger shoulders rolling upwards with every thrust. “y’ain’t cummin’ til i hear you say it, baby. c’mon, now. jus' admit it, that you still love me.”
he buries his cock to the very hilt, taking your slackened jaw tighter in his hand as he watches your eyes grow even hazier from his pelvis rubbing up against your vulnerable, needy clit. the stern look he gives you tells you he's serious about his last statement, but you'll later swear you sensed a bit of sadness, even despair in his expression.
“i love—” you choke on your own breath, desperate to sputter out the words. “i love you, si…”
and he practically has hearts in his eyes. “you mean it?”
“yes—! yes i do, i promise i still love you, please,” you spill, sounding closer to a temper tantrum than anything. “just lemme cum, please, si… really need it, please, i-i’ve been good...”
he hums lowly, contented, satisfied for once. as if those three words themselves — i love you — are the ones actually stroking his fucking cock. his ego maybe, you’d think, but jesus.
if you knew just how badly off he was beforehand, you never would’ve let him get this cocky and in control.
“love you too, sweetheart.” he kisses your puffed out lips, wipes a tear you hadn’t even noticed was trickling down your cheekbone. “always been my good, patient girl, haven’t ya?”
you nod once more, pinched brows and bleary eyes doubling in severity at his soft tone. simon praising you and being so, so uncharacteristically sweet has always made you fawn after more, even now. especially now.
“tha’s right, baby, you’re my good girl… now do me a favor and cum on my cock for me, yeah? lemme feel every last bit of ya.”
he ultimately resumes moving inside you, and it makes you wonder when he ever even stopped. your brain shuts off when he snakes a hand between your bodies, smoothing over your tummy before his middle and ring fingers quickly find your tortured, little bud. pressing hard, making you writhe with oversensitivity.
he works you over the edge diligently, and embarrassingly fast on your part, taking into account just how long he had edged you for. the sight and sweet noises you make are a dream; a reality he awfully missed, and something no other girl could compete with.
"that's it... easy, sweetheart," he coos softly.
he gives you a moment to come down from your high, softly palming your throbbing cunt to assist in grounding you, but you're barely able to finish catching your breath before he's doing it all over again! resuming flicking at your clit, rubbing you harshly and overstimming you enough to make you fruitlessly jolt and cry out beneath him.
he frowns down at you, damn-near condescending. "again, for me?"
you twitch and moan relentlessly as he gradually coaxes another orgasm from your tuckered body, his cockhead hitting that part deep enough inside you to make you see stars, his hard abdomen pressed against your tummy making the pressure of it all skyrocket tenfold.
the sensation of you finishing around his length once more has him barreling into his own orgasm, and soon fucking his pent up cum deep into your cunt with a few hard thrusts and a grumbled, broken groan right at your temple.
endless praises spill from his lips as everything becomes a blur for you; from the moment he's pulling out of your used cunt—crawling down and giving it and your pretty tits a couple sloppy kisses before briskly redressing himself—to being coddled in bed and squished between his muscular arms and torso.
he holds you so close to him that it makes you wonder why, or even how you could ever turn your back to it. he truly makes you feel like a spoiled doll in this sort of space. a doll with shaky legs, ruined makeup, and half a conscious.
"remind me why we broke up again?" he chimes.
you groan aloud, burying your face somehow further in his chest. "shut up, simon."
he laughs softly, pestering you with even more quick kisses, one after another to the crown of your skull. large hands rubbing up and down your back, moving to knead at your ass and thighs for a short moment. he just loves touching you so much.
“c’mon, pretty girl. let’s go get you cleaned up,” he mutters with an exhale. "how's a hot bath sound?"
you have no time to interject, other than a displeased pout and shake of your head, before you’re being hoisted up on your wobbly legs, then swept up and carried to your restroom when you couldn’t even make it three steps before your knees began to buckle on you.
you’re dizzy, utterly dazed and half asleep as he bathes you. making sure you don’t lift a finger as he works, treating you as nothing less than a princess. your loosened muscles somehow melt even more with his precise touch and strength, and you remember just how much you love being turned utterly numb and dependent on him.
you’re pretty sure you fell asleep the moment you were wrapped in a warm towel, pulled into the strong embrace of his meaty arms, but something he said moments beforehand had stuck with you.
“hey,” he whispered, soapy hand turning you to face him. he leaned in and kissed the area between your brows. “i’ll be better this time.”
“you promise?” you mumbled. your head fell atop your knees, arms wrapped around your legs and keeping them close to your body.
your extended pinky finger made him chuckle a bit, and he quickly looped his own around yours. solidifying his words. “promise.”
könig always takes his time prepping his girl to take him. he spends the better part of an hour on his stomach or knees, licking and lapping at your pretty pussy ‘til you cum on his tongue, many times. just to crawl back up so he can sweet-talk you into a couple more orgasms, delving his fingers into your dripping seam for the same, long amount of time. only after, will he finally fuck you with his cock.
at least when he’s living at home, anyways.
but when he’s been gone for upwards of a month or few, just now seeing you for the first time since his departure? christ, he’s utterly desperate. ripping your panties down your thighs so quickly you hear a tearing noise in the fabric, barely making it to your knees before he’s rushing to have his big head beneath your sundress. wasting no time in devouring you limp and swollen, cramming his fingers in without warning to make you cry out in surprise, pumping them in and out feverishly as he sucks on and tongues at your little clit.
it’s a bit painful at first, that’s a given, but you quickly become relaxed and dulcet by the time he’s coaxing out a second load, the first one already fucked deep inside you and coating his cock in a creamy sheen. you’re lucky he finishes quick after such a dry spell.
he feels bad afterwards, and he always tries to make it up to you as best he can; from the moment he pulls out before lowering himself to watch his pearly cum drip from your precious pussy, leaning in and eating it out of you, to the many days that follow. like, major princess treatment. nonstop kisses and praises; he’s at your beck and call. it’s all absolutely, without a doubt, crucial to his and your routine. <3
simon taking care of his sergeant by eating her out when she gets desperate, finger-fucking her to satiate her needs before they begin clouding her judgement on the field. because he’s a good lieutenant.
but sometimes, once she’s all tuckered out and content, he’ll just get so worked up from the sight and be forced to jerk off right in front of her pussy. hot strings of cum landing on her twitchy clit he’ll have to clean off with his tongue again afterwards as he just has so much respect for his teammate, never actually putting his dick in her because somehow that is where they would be crossing the line; a line he so badly wants to tear in half, but could never outright ask for.
Your last ask about hungry simon and eating your leftovers just warmed my heart!
Like he would have a field day with me cause I can't eat much in one sitting but get hungry easily and sadly get sick fast if I can't eat.
Just Imagine him always having safe snacks on hand and loving strolling around and getting snacks from vendors and such and he just gets more than half of everything cause you get full so fast
Or
Hear me out
You're always cooking for a football team portion wise and and and him praising the food and just really loving it (not me with a praise kink) and you're just glad it doesnt go to waste and he gets to feel full and satisfied
~🍯
[one, two, three.]
honestly!! simon has to carry snacks around with him twenty-four/seven. like, bag of pretzels being dwarfed by his giant palm while he’s walking around the house, emptying a large bag of beef/steak jerky every day and a whole carton of eggs every two days.
being eyed by the employees of a store while you try on clothes because food and drinks aren’t allowed in store yet none of the staff want to be the one to confront the six-foot-four, intimidating, hulking man with an apple in his hand as he watches you do a twirl for him.
and you’re so real for the last part! si has manners, undoubtedly, and he won’t hesitate to let you know how much he appreciates you and your hard work; he’d be such a fool not to.
just walking into his home office while he’s working at his desk, bowl of cut up strawberries and kiwis in hand for him to munch on as you find your place in his lap, possibly for a quick nap. bonus points if you cut the fruits up into little shapes or cover them in melted chocolate.
he gives the best hugs; it’s a given, considering his mass, and he could never say no to the sensation of your arms wrapped around his neck, pretty face buried in his collar, and the calming rhythm of your breathing against his chest reminding him that he could use a break, too.
he loves the effort you put in for him when he doesn’t even ask, and he always makes sure to pay you back for it. sometimes it tugs so severely at his heartstrings that, despite never wanting children or anything of the sort, he suddenly wants to make you a parent. only with him, and so fucking bad that it makes him sick.
but anyways my american brain is taking over and imagine going to a state fair or carnival with him, or just any theme park in general. you know he’s already getting in line for a vendor while he still has the prior’s food in his hand. the idea of him carrying around one of those ginormous turkey legs is so silly to me.
you’re going home with the half-dozen giant stuffed animals he won for you at the shooting games while he’s balancing two funnel cakes and an elephant ear in one hand, and your bag, filled with various sweets and memorabilia, in the other as you hike back to the car.
also, in my mind retired simon would still work as a consultant on a nearby military base a few days of the month or whenever he’s needed, and now i’m thinking about packing him nice lunches for those days, and how absolutely adorable he finds it. he’s glad he still has his own desk because the little love notes you leave in his box quite literally have his heart racing and knees buckling.
guys the demons are winning and now i can’t stop thinking about how good of a (girl!) dad he would be. i’m in shambles.
Do you know what is my love language? Men (Simon) eating my leftovers so I don’t feel guilty wasting it :) I can make as much as I desire and there won’t be anything left to throw 😩
this is so real!! this simon loves leftovers with all his heart.
that man is literally a vacuum. like, if you two had a dog and you ever fed him/her dinner scraps under the table, simon would deadass get jealous. as if he hadn’t just finished his third serving of the night.
usually he finishes everything, but two, three times a week you’ll wake to an empty bed at a strange hour, when it’s still pitch black outside. trudging downstairs to be met with the bright kitchen lights flicked on, and simon sat at the island counter or couch, munching on whatever was shoved into the refrigerator after your tasty dinner.
sometimes he’s watching tv, other times he’s working on those tedious tasks he saves for when he’s not in your presence and spending quality time with you. either way, you know he’s snacking.
you always curl up to his side in these instances, grumbling sleepy blurbs and wound up falling back asleep on the couch ‘til morning.
but also he’s so insatiable at restaurants most of all. he’ll down his entire plate before you’re barely getting started on yours, and you’re lucky if you’ve made it halfway through your meal before he’s ordering a second dish. it’s a miracle how fast his metabolism is.
always waits patiently for your food to arrive if his came first, though. no matter what, he’s a gentleman.
whether you’re too full, not hungry, or simply don’t like the food, his chest always swarms with love when you push your plate towards him or tell him to take the side items for himself. he does it every time, very happily, no questions asked; there’s not a single picky bone in his body, and it’s practically routine for you two at this point.
he ends up ordering a second dish anyway, to go. he also never passes up on dessert, and will never not drag you along with him.
this man is walking life support for those whose love languages are gift giving and/or acts of service. baking him brownies would actually resuscitate me. i’m gonna gnaw on him like he’s a dog bone.
