his voice reverberated against your whimpers, possessing a soft lilt to his husky tone. his lips ran its course on your pussy. not even eating you out, just a damn tease.
his lower lip dragged itself, tracing your puffed folds. your wetness smeared on his lips. he pressed the gentlest, firmest kiss on to your throbbing cunt.
your hips lifted, just a little to meet with his mouth again but all he did was let out a chuckle at your desperation. ânow, now, letâs be patient, alright?â
âspread your legs a bit more. can you do that for me, baby?â he blew a cold gush of soft air directly on to your clit, making you gasp, complying instinctively with his request.
he straightened himself up, away from your pussy, and tugged his trousers downâ unveiling his thick, robust and undeniably hard of a cock, smeared with pre-cum on the tip.
prominent veins decorated his cock. the entirety of it was bruised a regal shade of purple and blue, purely from restraint, agony of not penetrating the pretty hole.
one hand of his wrapped itself around the base, slowly jerking it up and down sensually, coating his girth with the pre-cum from his. his other hand had adjusted his hair, pushing the wet strands of hair back. âlook at me, baby. see what you do to me, sweetheart?â
âyouâve got your man so damn fucked, huh. doesnât happen that oftenâ you could truly see it, his face flushed, crimson injecting itself in to him, as blood was coursing to his head with profuse intensity.
his canine bit into his lower lip as he slightly lowered himself to you, a spread of his torrid tempered hand lay on your marked thighs while his knees pressed on to the mattressâ softness.
the tip of his cock maliciously kissed your ready hole, only a little, not entering like you had desired for. his hold on his cock tightened as he vehemently guided it up and down your raw pussy.
your juices coated his length as his tip steered through your cunt, drenching on the mess, thrusting between your folds.
one hand of his had pinned your thigh around his waist while the other was too lascivious, shamelessly spread your pussy lips apart with his thumb and index fingers. âhm, yeah, look at her. so wet for my cock. yeah, makes so much sense, doesnât it baby?â he raises one of his eyebrows while a smirk graces his wintry face. âso damn wet for me. nothing new thoughâ
he was so egotistical, especially now seeing the condition you were in. cheeks burning with an impaling desire, mouth parted to whine and moan, cunt wet enough to completely deep throat him.
his cock, still idly dousing itself with your wetness in a cadenced pattern, a rhythm curated by him only. one that had a burning contact of skin on skin but deprived you of pleasure.
and as if he couldnât get any more cockyâ he slowly dragged his meat from your succulent hole to your lonely clitorus bud as he repeatedly slapped it, then, slowly nudged on it. the slit of his tip incessantly nudging around your clit had you instantaneously moaning his name in stutters. âi know, the dickâs too good huh?â
he was stimulating your pussy so well. consistently dragging the head of his cock between your labia, arrogantly chuckling every time you moaned in dire need. âfuck yeah, want me so bad donât you? of course you do. why wouldnât you?â
he had mockingly put it inside but slipped out of quick, a fake pout formed on his face. âshitâ oops sorry, canât put it in, cutie. itâs too big for you. what should we do? hm?â he feigned a sad look while teasing your entrance. how annoying.
âg-god, youâre so full of yourselfâ you, somehow, muttered through your gritted teeth which had earned a chuckle from him.
Ghost with erectile dysfunction, but he'd never waste a moment to have you even if his body doesn't cooperate in the stolen moments.
So he fucks you with the suppressor on his pistol instead.
Huffs about you being "such a slag for me, hm? Take anything i give you." When you only screw your face in disgust but open your thighs wider for him. Notches the suppressor just barely inside and kisses you, one hand roaming your body, until you're grinding down on it of your own accord.
"Gonne cum for me? Make me a new favorite weapon?" He teases, smiling at the desperate little groan you let out. Ghost starts fucking the suppressor into you properly, pushing further and further until he can angle it just rightâ
"There you go..." a delighted growl when your whole body seizes, the edge of the suppressor brutally massaging that perfect spot inside you.
He doesn't stop until you're shaking with overstimulation and desperately grabbing at his wrist to pull out the gun.
You earn a kiss on the cheek for schooling the embarrassment on your face after a moment, and a promise "why don't we work through the rest of my collection this weekend?" When he leaves you in that closet, holstering his pistol.
"so good baby keep going" he praises, taking a drag out of his cigar as you whimper and roll your bare cunt on his thigh, clutching his biceps for dear life as one of his large hands guide your hips
your moans grow louder as you find the perfect angle clit trobbing against the steady pressure. your head tips back, hair falling across your face as price's hand comes up to cover your mouth
"shhh we don't want the others to hear, huh love?" you muffle between his fingers, squeezing your eyes shut as he flexes his muscles beneath you, making your cunt leak more slick onto his trousers
"such a fuckin little mess" he mutters, circling his thumb over your clit adding more stimulation. your cheeks burn from humiliation as you bit your lower lip trying not to make a sound. he presses harder on your clit whilst you rut faster and deeper on his thigh, making your stomach tighten
"john no mor-" you cry out, a low whine tearing its way out of your throat as you release yourself on him. he drags you over his thigh, forcing you to ride the aftershocks as you shudder and shake in his grip, over sensitivity burning through your core. your forehead drops to his shoulder, breath stuttering as the last waves of pleasure leave your body. he slaps your swollen pussy in satisfaction, your body jolting from the contact as you curl into him like a kitten
"that's my girl" he whispers forcing your chin up, meeting your dazed eyes with his. his lips curl into a smug filthy grin seeing your teary eyes and the prominent wet stain imprinted on his trousers
"lunch times over doll. back out you go" he murmurs after a while, leaving sloppy kisses on your neck as you gather your senses and come back to reality. he leans back on his chair, puffing his cigar as you wince and scramble around trying to make it seem you didn't ride your boyfriends thigh in the middle of work
this might have been your favourite lunch break yet
the night had become increasingly strange. the man you considered your closest companion - or at least the closest thing you dared call one in the privacy of your own thoughts - had returned from the mountains carrying a bloodied hairbrush as though it were the most natural gift in the world. you would never call him that aloud. doing so would likely earn you nothing more than a scoff, a deathly glare, and perhaps a reminder from his sharp tongue that he was no one's companion. you preferred avoiding that.
which left you here. staring down at a beautifully crafted hairbrush stained with someone else's blood. the white sleeve of your robe had already begun absorbing crimson where the brush rested in your lap.
across from you, sukuna remained crouched in the doorway, his enormous frame occupying most of the entrance. melting snow dripped from his robes onto the wooden floorboards. his geta sat half-soaked beneath him, the wooden sandals darkened from snow and slush. as expected, he appeared completely unconcerned by the cold.
you doubted he could feel it. or perhaps he simply refused to acknowledge it.
your head tilted slightly. your expression pinched. the blood was admittedly unpleasant. still, your fingers wrapped around the gift.
the craftsmanship was remarkable. even beneath the dried blood and dirt, the comb was elegant. the polished wood was smooth beneath your thumb, its carved details delicate enough to suggest noble ownership. some of the blood had already dried, preserved by the mountain cold.
you had become rather accustomed to blood during your time here. enough that you found yourself rubbing part of it away with your sleeve. a quiet scoff escaped you. nothing more than a puff of air. yet it was enough.
four crimson eyes narrowed. one corner of sukuna's lip twitched. displeasure.
"âŚthoughtful gift." the words finally left your mouth. you raised the brush above your head, examining it beneath the moonlight filtering through the room and the lantern glow spilling in from the corridor behind him.
sukuna stared. silently. honestly, he had likely expected many reactions. that was not one of them.
"you can throw it away." his voice was flat. "or shove it down your throat if you dislike it." there he was. the king of curses. his face had gone completely expressionless. only the slight exposure of one fang hinted at irritation. one set of fingers tapped lazily against his knee.
"is this your idea of gratitude?" he asked clearly not expecting an answer.
another arm slipped free from the folds of his sleeve. he planted a hand against the doorframe and pushed himself upright. the movement seemed effortless despite his size.
blood from the deer had already begun spreading across the threshold. his geta smeared crimson through the corridor as he stepped backward into the hall. his attention immediately shifted away from you.
the deer. of course. he bent down and seized one antler. your gaze followed him. the sudden dismissal was almost impressive. if you had offended him, you couldn't tell. this was simply sukuna.
"âŚit's nice."
the words left your mouth quickly. sukuna didn't even glance back. he lifted the entire deer and swung it over one shoulder as though it weighed no more than a bundle of firewood.
"nice." the word rolled from his tongue. mocking. his head turned just enough for you to catch the judgmental look he shot over his shoulder. "then it's nice."
his tone remained unchanged. calm. indifferent. yet something about it felt oddly pointed. as though your lack of enthusiasm had failed some invisible test. which was absurd. surely. and yetâŚ
you found yourself wondering if he had expected more. gods knew with him. you unfolded yourself from your cushion and carefully placed the brush atop the low table.
by then, sukuna had already begun walking away. bloody footprints marked his path through the corridor. not that you needed them. the sharp clack of his geta echoed throughout the shrine with every step. quiet had never been one of his talents.
you followed. the corridor stretched ahead beneath hanging lanterns. their light reflected off polished wooden floors and painted the paper screens in warm gold. his broad back remained visible. the deer's body hung over his shoulder, swaying slightly with every step.
he knew you were there. you were certain of it. a low sound emerged from somewhere deep within his chest. a rough groan. almost a purr. the kind he occasionally made when tolerating your presence.
his gaze never shifted from the corridor ahead. yet somehow you knew he was aware of every step you took.
"i meant it's very nice." you quickened your pace. "i like it."
you were walking beside him now. well. as beside him as someone could walk beside sukuna. the deer's torso swung unexpectedly and nearly collided with you. you stepped aside. only to accidentally move closer to him instead. one pair of crimsons tracked the motion instantly. the left set. watching from the corner of his vision. his head never moved. his expression never changed. no response came. nothing.
yet the sensation remained. he was watching you. in that unsettling way of his. like a wolf observing something beneath its notice. the silence stretched. you exhaled. the pressure of his gaze forced you to continue.
"thank you."
there. finally. you tilted your head upward, attempting to sneak a glance at his face. sukuna immediately ruined the attempt. without warning, he grabbed the deer and tossed it. the carcass hit the floor near the entrance leading toward the kitchens and storage rooms with an unpleasant, heavy thud. the sound echoed through the shrine. several birds nesting beneath the eaves outside immediately took flight. restless as you two.
whether the deer was meant for uraume, the servants, or simply whoever was unfortunate enough to find it first remained unclear. but sukuna was already looking at you. directly. his head tilted slightly to one side. moonlight caught the blood smeared across his cheek and shoulder. for a moment neither of you spoke. then-
"clean the hall." you blinked. "what?"
his split brow rose. the scar cutting through it shifted with the motion. amusement flickered across his features. your confusion was entertaining him. again - "clean the hall."
"âŚat this hour?"
the task itself wasn't unusual. the timing was. and for a brief moment you wondered whether he was simply trying to get rid of you.
sukuna glanced past you. toward the nearest opening that overlooked the snow-covered grounds. the moon hung high above the shrine.
"the hour doesn't seem to stop you from wandering the halls." his gaze slid back toward you. slow. heavy. "or waiting by windows like some restless spirit."
the corner of his mouth twitched. not quite a smile. far more dangerous than one. his upper arms folded across his chest while the lower pair disappeared into his sleeves. his chin lifted. arrogant. imperious. every bit the king he believed himself to be.
"unless." his eyes narrowed. "you're only useful when the sun is out." the insult landed exactly where he intended it to. "then by all means." his voice became smooth. elegant. cruel in that effortless way only sukuna could manage. "fetch yourself a lantern and prove me wrong."
there it was. the dismissal. not subtle. not kind. an order disguised as mockery. the disbelief written across your face earned nothing more than a low groan from him. as though your confusion had become tiresome. one broad, bloodstained palm settled against the middle of your back. firm. without warning.
the pressure nudged you forward toward the more secluded wing of the shrine, where his own chambers, the private bathing rooms fed by the hot springs, and the restricted halls lay beyond heavy cedar doors. few servants entered that part of the estate without permission.
"you can do that." he drawled behind you, his voice carrying the same effortless disdain as always, "or join me in the springs." his hand remained where it was. "wash the blood off my back." your steps faltered. confusion only deepened. sukuna had always been a man of contradictions. one moment he dismissed your presence as though you were little more than another servant wandering his halls. the next⌠this.
the invitation if it could even be called one came with the same indifference as ordering someone to sweep a corridor. there was no embarrassment, no hesitation. to him, having attendants assist during bathing was no stranger than having food prepared or robes laid out. noble households throughout the heian period often treated such tasks as ordinary service. still⌠he had never asked you. never needed to. seeing your hesitation, his hand left your back only long enough for blunt claws to scratch thoughtfully beneath his chin.
"âŚit's late." his gaze drifted over you. "you're available, are you not?" the words landed with deliberate carelessness. as though your own thoughts on the matter carried no weight whatsoever.
before you could lose yourself trying to understand what had possessed him, his palm found your back again. this time higher. between your shoulder blades. his hand spread across the fabric of your robe with unsettling familiarity, mapping the space for only a heartbeat before withdrawing just as quickly, leaving nothing behind but lingering warmth through the layers of cloth.
"it is either cleaning the hallâŚ" a pause."âŚor joining me." his four eyes settled on you. waiting. not because he expected uncertainty. because he already knew there wasn't any. "well?" his split brow lifted. "move."
there it was again. that unmistakable arrogance. the assumption that the answer had already been decided for you. as though lingering here to think was merely wasting his time. his gaze dipped over your expression before returning to your eyes, one corner of his mouth pulling upward into something far too cruel to be called amusement.
"or has standing there with your mouth half-open become tonight's occupation?" another measured pause. "if you're incapable of choosing between a bucket and warm water, perhaps i've been expecting too much." the words were delivered with effortless elegance, every insult wrapped in perfect composure. sukuna turned away before you could answer. entirely certain you would follow. or obey. either outcome suited him just fine.
Canât stop thinking about Trucker!Simon whoâs been rolling for four straight days without a real shower, big frame crammed behind the wheel of his rig, the sleeper cab behind him smelling like diesel, old sweat, stale cigarette smoke, and faint grease of last weekâs truck stop burgers.
Trucker!Simon whoâs got you- the pretty little bird he picked up on the side of the interstate at 2am, thumb stuck out in your pretty little sundress, soft tits spilling heavier over the neckline every time you breathe, panicked, after youâd quietly explained through the open window that someone had ditched you out there, hundreds of miles from home with nothing but your bag and you just needed a ride to the next town, anywhere, please- in his sleeper, curled up on sheets stiff with old sweat and cum, stained more than clean.
Soft thighs pressed together, pretty mouth parted, eyes wide and already glassy in the low light from the dash. Heâs too big for the space, has to duck his head, shoulders brushing the sides, and he fills it completely when he crawls in after you.
Shirt half unbuttoned and stuck to his chest with sweat, jeans open and shoved down, freeing that heavy cock that youâve seen the outline of under his oil stained pants when heâd palm at it, bulging against his thigh when he drove under street lamps to this trucker stop.
It hangs thick and flushed between his thighs now, heavy balls drawn up tight, the skin at the base dark with dried sweat and the pre heâs been leaking into his boxers since he got a whiff of your sweet floral perfume as you climbed into his rig.
Kneels on the mattress, one big hand braced on the low ceiling, the other reaching down to fist his cock slow and lazy, eyes dragging over you, your soft curves, the way your pretty clothes are already rumpled from being in his rig, the little tremble in your thighs that only gets worse when he leans in closer.
Mattress dipping under his weight, until his chest is right in front of your face, heat rolling off him intense. You wrinkle your nose hard, trying to turn your face away, shoulders curling in like you can escape the stench.
He shifts his weight anyway, knees forcing between your thighs, spreading them wider, one nicotine stained hand wrapping around yours, yanking it down to wrap around his cock. Itâs hot, heavy, the skin at the base tacky. Your fingers donât quite meet around it.
You flinch violently, trying to yank your hand back with a soft disgusted sound, but he just wraps his bigger one over yours and makes you stroke him once, twice, slow, firm drags that smear fresh precum down the shaft while your lower lip wobbles and your breath comes in tiny, hiccuping gasps. He groans at the skin of your hand around his cock which is all too used to the feeling of his calloused hands and scratchy sheets and not at all used to soft and warm.
His fingers thread into your hair, digging into the base of your skull, and he forces your face down the trail of coarse hair on his stomach until your pretty mouth is pressed right against the root of his cock.
The smell is strongest here, musky and sharp, the faint bitter trace of old piss where heâs been too lazy to stop properly. You squeeze your eyes shut and try harder to twist away, soft disgusted whimpers catching in your throat, hands pushing weakly at his stomach, nose wrinkling as you gag at the smell of him. He holds you there until your lips brush the tacky skin.
Rocks his hips forward, the fat head of his cock smearing across your soft cheek, leaving a shiny streak. âOpen up.â
When your lips part and you take him in, he grunts low, the wet heat of your mouth making his balls draw up tighter. He pushes the taste of road and sweat across your tongue, then deeper.
You choke immediately, a wet, panicked sound bubbling up as your hands fly to his hips, pushing hard. Tears bead in your lashes and spill down your temples, nose wrinkling hard at the stench, but he doesnât let you pull back. Both big hands sink into your hair, fingers twisting tight at the roots, dragging you down, groaning when he pushes into your throat, feels it convulse around the fat head of his cock.
âFuck,â he rasps, barely a word, more a punched out sound of satisfaction.
Then he shoves you down the rest of the way, using his grip on your hair to force your pretty mouth lower, inch by inch, until your nose is pressed flush against the sweaty, crusty hair at the base of his cock.
Your throat spasms hard around him, fluttering and squeezing, and he groans again, deeper this time, hips twitching forward. Saliva floods your mouth instantly, thick and messy, spilling out around your stretched lips and dripping down his balls in shiny strings.
He holds you there, nose buried in the damp, crusted pubes that smell like days of sweat and road grime, cock buried to the hilt in your spasming throat.
One thumb slides forward, pressing against the outside of your neck, feeling the obscene bulge of his cock stretching your throat. He rubs it slowly, while your eyes water and more tears track down your face.
Then he starts to rut, grinding his cock deeper into your throat while saliva pours out of you. Every time he pulls back just enough for you to gasp a wet, choked breath, thick strings of spit stretch between your lips and his cock before he shoves you back down again.
Your hands keep pushing at his thighs, manicured nails scraping over sweat slick skin, but he just tightens his grip in your hair and fucks your throat harder, deeper.
The wet, gurgling sounds are obscene in the cramped sleeper. Your mascara is running, pretty face a mess of tears and spit, nose still wrinkled in disgust even as your throat keeps fluttering and milking him. He groans every time you gag, the sound low and satisfied, hips rolling in steady, filthy ruts that smear more of your saliva into his pubes and down his balls until theyâre shiny and dripping with it.
He doesnât let up until your vision starts to blur at the edges and your hands go slack against his thighs. Only then does he pull you off with a wet, obscene pop, cock shiny and flushed dark, strings of spit connecting your swollen lips to the head. You cough and gasp, chest heaving, tears and saliva dripping from your chin onto the stained sheets while he fists his cock once, twice, smearing the mess you made all over himself.
Then his hands fall to your hips, manhandles you between his highs, one big hand under your soft legs. The sundress gets shoved higher, bunched under your tits, grips your panties and pulls, ripping them off, forcing your legs wide even as your thighs tremble and try to close.
Youâre crying harder now, soft hiccuping sobs, hands pushing frantically at his stomach and chest as he lines up, eyes wide and pleading up at him.
âPlease- waitâ your voice cracks, small and teary, â- condom? Do you have a condom?â
He pauses for half a second, the thick head of his cock nudging against your slick folds. Then he answers, low and rough, âAinât got one.â
The stretch of his cock is immediate and overwhelming, feels like heâs splitting you in half. Your back arches hard, a broken whimper slipping out as your hands beat harder at his chest, trying to push him off, soft thighs shaking uncontrollably.
Heâs too big for the cab and heâs too big for you, hips grinding forward, heavy balls pressing tight against your ass, coarse hair at his base rubbing against your soft skin while fresh tears spill down your temples.
You keep pushing at him, palms flat against his sweaty chest, trying to create space, soft disgusted sounds mixing with the first helpless little moans that start slipping out every time he bottoms out.
The mattress creaks. The sheets stick to your back, stiff and filthy. Every thrust makes the cab rock slightly on its suspension. Sweat rolls off his chest in fat drops, splattering onto your soft belly and the swell of your tits while he fucks you in deep, heavy strokes that grind right up against your cervix. The wet slap of his heavy, pendulous balls is loud in the cramped space, scent getting thicker the harder he works, mixing with the new smell of sex and your own unwanted arousal until the whole sleeper reeks of it.
He breathes heavy, low grunts punched out of him every time your cunt flutters and squeezes around the thick drag of his cock. One hand stays braced on the ceiling, the other gripping the back of your soft thigh hard enough to leave bruises, holding you open while he uses you.
Your hands are still on his chest, pushing weakly, fingers slipping through the thick sweat coating his skin, but the resistance is turning sloppy. Your pretty face is scrunched, eyes going glassy, mouth falling open on broken little moans.
He fucks you through an orgasm like that, grinding rolls that drag the fat head of his cock inside you until your soft body locks up and you sob out a high, whiny sound, cunt pulsing and gushing around him.
He doesnât stop. Just keeps using you, sweat dripping from his jaw onto your collarbone, the wet slap of his balls getting filthier as your slick and his precum mix into a messy froth at the base of his cock.
Youâre babbling now, soft and fucked stupid, little âah- ah- plea- â sounds that donât quite form real words. Your thighs are shaking so hard they canât stay wrapped around him. He catches one and folds it higher, nearly bending you in half on the narrow mattress, and the new angle makes you wail, eyes rolling back as he grinds right up against your cervix with every thrust.
When he gets close he drops forward heavier, chest crushing your soft tits, the full weight of him pinning you down into the stiff sheets.
You panic the second you realize whatâs about to happen, hands shoving harder at his sweaty chest, legs kicking weakly, soft sobs turning frantic. âNono, pull out, Iâm not on birth control- please-â
He doesnât even grunt in response, just wraps his arms around your body, shoves you down on his cock throbing deep inside you, and then heâs cumming thick, hot spurts pumping straight into your womb, flooding your uterus with daysâ worth of heavy, pungent load. Itâs so much it forces its way out around his cock in messy rivulets, smearing down your ass onto the already ruined mattress.
Empties every last drop deep inside you, flooding you until your lower belly feels warm and full. Only when the last spurt finishes does he pull out, thick strings of cum stretching between his cock and your messy cunt.
Before you can scramble away he grabs tou, big hands flipping your soft, trembling body onto your stomach, then hauling your hips up so your face is shoved down into the filthy mattress. One heavy palm plants between your shoulder blades and stays there, pinning your face into the stiff, sweat-and-cum-stained sheets. Your sundress is rucked up around your waist, soft ass presented, and heâs already lining up again, the fat head of his cock nudging through the mess leaking out of you.
You try to twist, try to push up on your arms, panicked little sounds muffled into the mattress. âWait- wait, you canât- â
He pushes in anyway.
âHavenâ fucked anyone in months,â he mutters, hips snapping forward hard enough to jolt your whole body and your mouth opens on a moan, drool pooling onto the mattress beneath your head. âBalls been so heavy they ache. Ainât wastinâ it on these fuckinâ sheets again when I got a pretty little hole right here to fill over and over.â
Maybe you should have just walked to the next town.
i'm so gone for the idea that the first time that you tell john, "i love you," is during sex. maybe missionary, but i'm thinking during proneboneâwhen john's pressing all his weight onto you, gripping you by the back of your neck, rutting and humping like he's trying to impregnate you then and there (not yet, but soon; that's a promise). you are so drunk in your pleasure, all drooly and whiny, that the words just spill from kiss-swollen lips.
i love you, you hiccup. john stops just for a second before a litany of his own confession drop from his maw, unstopping and unwavering like now that the dam's been unlatched, everything just begins to pour out ceaselessly.
i love you too, baby, i love you so much. the light of my life, huh? look at you, such a pretty thing for me. want daddy to kiss here, this deep? yeah? oh sweetheart, such a lovely puppy for me.
đৠNanami Kento fingering you in a crowded train
cw. mature content
Seeing your husband after work in his usual tight fitted navy blue shirt, his leopard print tie hanging low as he walked towards you. Today nanami had a work party and it was very unusual for you to get a call from his colleagues that he had gotten quite wasted. That's what had made you go and pick him up, you smiled brightly up at your husband as you saw his sunken eyes softened.
"Hello darling, thank you f'coming, I missed you terribly." He slurred a litte, walking closer to you as he leaned down and captured your lips. "Missed you too ken! Never thought I'd see my hubby get so wasted!" You giggled against his lips, staring up into his pretty brown eyes, "c'mon let's go!" You tugged at his hand, gripping it as you both started to walk towards the train station as you rambled about your day, Nanami smiled as you talked his ear off, he loved listening to what happened in his sweet girl's day.
The train station was very crowded as you both arrived at the platform, people getting on the last train home after working overtime or after getting wasted just like your husband. You both made it on the train, thanks to your husband's intimidating frame that made people in his way part through. Kento guided you until you both were tucked away in a corner, your back to a train door's with him standing infront of you, shielding you from everyone else.
His large hand planted firmly beside your head as he stared down at you with a small smile, his other hand tucked your hair behind your ear as he admired your beauty, "You look amazing, sweetheart" You smiled in response, fixing his tie as your eyes dropped down. The way his shirt stretched over his muscular chest, the suspenders taut over his pecs as you blinked with a sigh.
Being the brat you were, your hand placed on his arm, staring at the way his thick veiny bicep thrummed beneath your fingers. Your hand traveled to his chest, lightly squeezing his pec as you smirked up at him, watching as kento's eyes widened in warning, "Don't." He whispered, his jaw clenching as you grew bold and slipped your hand down his hard abdomen to rest directly on the bulge in his pants. "Don't what?" You played innocent, loving the way you were riling him up in a public transport.
Kento gritted his teeth, his hand clenching beside your head while the other grabbed your waist, pressing you firmly against the cool train wall. "Don't.. touch me, love." He leaned down, grunting low in your ear, making sure only you could hear him in the sea of people. But you ignored his warning and squeezed his crotch once again, your eyes watching as his slacks tightened, his cock growing hard in your hand.
"Fuck." He cursed low in his throat, he turned his head to look around him, tired people buried in their phones or having their eyes closed half asleep. His mind reeled as he thought rationally, can he fuck you here? Would these people notice? And maybe it was the beer he had drank that made his mind hazy that made him grip your wrist that was on his cock and pinned it down before his other hand slipped under your skirt, lifting it but making sure nobody else could see you.
You gasped a little, you didn't think that he would touch you right between the sea of people on a crowded train but guess everyone has a hidden sight. Your thoughts were cut short as kento's large hand delicately ran over the fabric of your cotton panties, his finger finding the tiny bump of your clit. He couldn't help but press onto it, the corner of his mouth lifting into a small smirk as you let out a tiny whimper.
Your right hand was still pinned under kento's left as he worked expertly on your little clit, touching the bud sore through the flimsy fabric. "K- Ken.." you whispered out, you weren't sure what you wanted, did you want him to continue? To stop? Did you want to secretly cum in a crowded train? "Don't even dare stop me honâ you started this." Oh, fuck. He pinched the buttony pearl before two of his fingers slipped past the fabric and right in your slick cunt.
His fingers curled right into that slightly goey spot, pressing hard before pulling his fingers back fully and thrusting them in again, your pussy squelched but not loud enough for the tired man beside you both to hear. Kento smirked as he pushed them inside again, making you grip onto his forearm as you bit his collarbone peeking out from underneath his shirt to muffle any sweet noise you'd let out.
Your eyes rolled back at the way your husband was roughly teasing you out in public, just the feel of his rough fingers pumping in your plump cunt had you shaking in the knees. "K- Kento, pleaseee!" You whined out near his ear, hiding your face in his chest, "Please what darling? Be a big girl and use your words." He chuckled, the hazy look still in his eyes as his fingers pressed harder on your spot while his thumb pressed down upon your clit. It was as if his fingers were trying to feel themselves through the soft skin of your pussy.
"Nooo- stoopp! Fuck, stop teasing me!!" You nearly screamed with how good his fingers felt if it hadn't been for your husband's large hand, covering your mouth while the other sped up inside of you, thrusting deeply as you panted against his palm, your pussy clenching tightly around his fingers as your eyes opened and you could see the hungry look that glinted in your husband's eyes. He let out a soft groan, "There ya go baby, good girl. Cum all over my fingers, let everyone know who you belong to."
He chuckled as your release soaked his fingers, dripping down to his hand and pattering on his watch. "You okay hon?" He whispered, pulling out his hand as he licked them clean, making you blush, "Ohmygod ken!!" "What? I'm not someone who waste's honey, you know that and can't waste my sweet wife now, can I?" He chuckled with a smirk, his free hand pushing out your hair from your face as he helped you adjust your skirt.
"Do you think anyone noticed??" You asked him, looking around the packed train, hopefully everyone was way too tired to even care but as you were about to look away, your eyes met with a particular big looking raven haired man. He was across the train, leaning against the automatic doors with his buff, muscular arms crossed as he smirked at you, highlighting the scar down the side of his lips. He held up one of his hand, just enough for you to see and curled them in a O before his other hand, pumped fingers through the gap, making the crude gesture very clear.
"Oh fuck."
đ i'm a slut for reblogs and comments so plz give it to me :D it's not proofread so plz ignore mistakes
you think that you are sooo good at hiding the fact that you like missionary and prone bone because of the way that john is pressing against youâcrushing you with his weight, and rutting the two of you on the bed in a messy tangle of salt and warmth âuntil john finally croons at you about it. he praises you, says how you are so cute in the way that your body is anticipating the drop of john's weightâcunt clenching around him even tighter, your moans splintering into shattered rasps of john's name.
the denial comes quick. "no- john, i-"
john tells you that you don't have to deny it. that you don't have to lie.
"i love it," john murmurs, a satisfied preen coating his words. he nuzzles his scruff against your shoulder, nipping at his baby's flushed skin because vulnerability is closing in. "i love how you love my body, baby."
you cry, cumming weakly at john's confession and throughout the tremors overtaking you, john holds you tight. he humps into you shallowly, trying to coax one more orgasm, and you do give a weak squirt just as his cum fills you, and it is thick and hot and delicious.
he slides his hand down to cup your gut, fingers dimpling your skin. "there," he rumbles. "now you're full too."
Thinking about alpha!price who is obsessed with providing you with plenty of nest materials...
He questions you extensively about your nest preferences, asks to see photos of your previous nests, keeps a notebook of possible materials for you. Price may be a bit old school, he thinks it's an alphas job to provide his omega with the best possible nest.
Every so often, a new blanket or pair of clothes gets added to his den to soak up his scent. It's important he always has fresh den items for you to choose from, after all.
He spends hours cuddling with you in his den, rumbling all happy to make sure the materials only smell like good memories. To price, a healthy nest is a sign of a strong relationship.
So it drive him absolutely mad that you have zero interest in building a nest!!
You tried to explain that it's just a generational gap thing, that many omegas your age don't nest like that.
Because really, all you want it that hoodie he always wears. It's thick and light, reeks of all of your alpha. You can wear it anywhere and sink into that warm safe space, always have his comfort with you.
The compromise is every week you refresh the nest with him, picking out materials you like and arranging it in a way that makes your mild nesting instincts hum. In return, john knots you as much as you want until the nest is broken in and really smells like you two.
Simon Riley really delving into his oral fixation.
See, you'd asked Simon to stop smoking after reading that it would damage his sperm. Trying for a baby apparently meant he needed to give up his vice.
But you were his missus, and he'd learned a long time agoâdon't fucking argue with the missus.
Already by day three Simon was buying multiple packs of gum a day. Grumbling around base and the house. But he wouldn't take it out on you, never on you.
Your tits? Different story.
Simon had been sucking on your tits for almost an hour, switching between your now swollen and spit slick nipples. Yes, it felt fantasticâbut Jesus Christ what was his obsession tonight?
"Simon." You murmur, tugging at his hair to pull him up. "You're usually inside me by now."
Simon grumbled, licking his lips. "You had me quit smokin' my fucking mouth needs to be doin' somethin'"
After that confession, Simon was always on you.
He comes home from work, and he pushes your shirt up while you read some book on the couch. His mouth immediately locking around your nipple. The tension built throughout the day leaving his body.
He'd suck on your tits of a morning instead of going for his usual smoke. Though you point out that he spends a lot longer on your nipples than he ever did his cigarettes.
You can't even take your shirt off around him without Simon pawing at your tits and sucking on you for at least five minutes before you finally batt him off to go cook dinner.
After a long weekend though, you went to work with sore tits. Your coworkers getting excited after hearing you'd been trying for a baby and now you were adjusting your bra all day.
Simon only chuckled when you complained to him that afternoon, letting you frustratedly throw your bra at him. "Just tell them that your husbands helping you practice for when you're actually breastfeeding."
Late Night Talking | cw: 18+ mdni, fauxcest (uncle!Simon), smut and plot, mĂĄsturbĂ tĂon (m), p in v, no prep, unprotected sèx, age gap(40 something Simon, 23 yo reader)
a/n: more plot heavy than god intended. So sowry. Can be read solo dolo.
part one. 1.5. next
Simon hates when you ignore him.
I mean, to the point he can feel a migraine coming on. Irritation building, knee bouncing, snapping a little more than usual. He told you not to come over for a little bit, just needed to âsort some things outâ. Maybe the space would make that want he felt radiating off of you disappear. Make that kiss you shared nothing but silly imagination, you could go back to what was.
But was it ever ânormalâ?
Maybe it was a car crashing into a wall, feelings bound to come rushing in all at once. The car being put in drive when he noticed how pretty that smile was, how gorgeous you were talking and laughing absentmindedly around the house, or when you called to check up on him, the engine revving and lurching forward without warning when he saw that damn cursive on the side of your hip in passing. âHoneyâ in cursive, the exact same spot he got a tattoo heâd only recently told you about. Watched the way your shirt rose and fell over it, every curve of your body becoming more recognizable, hypnotized in the thought of touching each of themâ the crash. Feeling your body against his, eyes scaling him up and down till he caught you, the electric shock of your fingers against his.
It was almost as if kissing you was unavoidable.
So keeping his mind off you wasnât possible, not when the house only became a home with you in it. Your belongings scattered around the house still. He ignored you for two weeksâ you ignored him for three. He tried to call and youâd block him. He showed up to your parents as an excuse, still at a loss of words of what to actually say to you, and youâd still picked up your siblings before he got there.
And still, the thought of you only entrapped him. Heâs seen it over and over, the image of you on top of him, tantalizing, tossing your shirt to the side, hands sliding all over his body, down his slightly pudgy torso, his happy trail, and every single time youâre about to pull his cock outâ he jolts awake. Heâs too old to be having wet dreams, too old for morning wood. Or popping a boner after imaging you in his living room, on your knees, plump lips wrapped around his cockhead while you stare up at him through your lashesâ fuck.
Heâs quick this time to catch it, too frustrated with the feelings youre giving him, standing on his feet, one knee on the edge of the bed. rolling his hand down his own rock hard length. Simon slipping his boxers down just enough it springs out. Only getting stiffer with every twist of his rough hand down his shift. He lets out a shuddering breath, he can imagine it in full detail. Too clear. Letting him thumb rub the rest of his tip leaking pre, the way youâd circle your tongue around it, let it get all wet, with your saliva till your pushing your hair to the side, you hand on his thigh till his manhoodâs got you choking.
âShit honey bee,â he grunts out, low moans only growing now, how rough youâd try to be with him, spit gurgling and bubbling onto your cum coated lips, fast, tightâ makes him grip himself just the way your mouth would be, warm sucking him through teary eyes. His hand at the back of your neck, rubbing the hairs on your nape, and Simon shudders, lifting his shirt and taking it into his teeth
Heâs gotta calm down, but he canât, muffled groans and huffs filling the bedroom, stroking his dick with vigor, eyelids low, can see the pudge of his stomach, the way heâs making his hand dirtier, every squelch while his hand works itâs way up and down his throbbing shaft. âBloody. Fuckin- mmph!â
How would you look underneath him right now? That face with your mouth agape, curls sprawled out, making his maddening red dick shine with your quivering hole. Howâd you keen so beautifully, âuncle Simon, oh- uncle Simon-â
And the old bastard chokes on a muffled groan, mind fogging with every way he dreamt of slamming into your cunt, his hand feeling the way his hips buck. Simonâs eyebrows knit together, balls tightening while spurts of white fluid lands into his hand.
It wasnât right.
The man couldnât even look himself in the mirror as he washed the cum off his hands.
Worse, he heard that damn door unlock. Having to rush out of the bathroom and down the steps. Had he always been this nervous- no- so eager to see you?
And when you saw that look on his face, flushed, confused, unprepared. You thought the worst first, but thatâs not your business either, if he has someone else over. Heâs your Uncle. And just that. Nothing more or less. You could play along for the rest of your life if need be. Pressing your lips together, you drag your bag of laundry further inside.
âIâll be quick,â you huff out, not bothering to look him in the eyes, âMy washer went out again.â
Youâve been complaining about he old thing for ages, Simonâs offered to buy you a new one when he attempted to repair it. But you declined, told him to spend his money on something better. And then there were the offers for you to just move in, another declined offer. Something along the lines of, âIâd be inturding, er- um- itâd be too much for you Uncle Si, got too much goin on..â
But who wouldnât want to be with you, see you every morning, help you when you needed, see that beautiful faceâ Simon follows you to the laundry room.
âJust laundry?â He asks.
You nod slow with a blasĂŠ look, turning clothes inside out and tossing them into the wash, âMhm.â
And that couldâve been the easy way for the both of you, letting you do just that. Not ask any questions. Let the rhythm of you bring uncle and niece fall back into place. Itâs late already, around 11 pm, leave the idea of fucking you to rust and die, right along with the kiss youâd shared.
But he hears you sniffle, movements only getting more aggressive.
âHoney-â
ââItâs been a⌠hard week âs all.â Another sniffle, shutting the washer machine shut, pouring in the detergent and then running it. Setting it down on the shelf gently. You can only spare him a quick glance as he fills the doorway, brushing past him in search of space, anywhere where you wouldnât feel trapped with this older man. Your feet guide you down the hall to the dimly lit kitchen, clearing your throat, âIâm sorry for what happened. I- I shouldnât have done that.â
â[+] yâdidnât do anythin-â
You shake your head fast, words tumbling out faster than your tongue can register, ââIâm not perfect, you know how my family is, Iâm trying though. Someoneâs got to.â You let out a chuckle that doesnât reach your eyes, pushing yourself into the counter. The only Riley is across from you. Leaning against the fridge, you canât read him, but you know his eyes are glued to you even if you dove have a good view of his face in the kitchens light. You take a deep breathe, âBut this week, I just- I really needed you, but I didnât know if I could come and see you, o-or just hear you. And I crossed the line, and Iâm sorry. Iâm sorry Uncle Si.â
It makes his heart squeeze when he hears those hiccups erupt out of you, feet dragging across the hardwood floor, cooing, âNone âf this is your fault Dove. Was ollâ on me.â
You fiercely wips your tears, letting him cup your cheeks, only leaning into his warm touch, âI just- I donât wanna be thrown away. Please, I canât do it Uncle Si.â
You hesitate, but Simon lets your hand rest on his back, the gap between you only growing smaller. Your eyes close, hot tears still flowing down your pretty face, âI need you Uncle Simon, I need you- hck- but we canât-â
ââShhh, shhh, lovie, You need me,â he hushâs you softly, tilting your head up to look at him. Letâs his thumb run across your full plump, mahogany brown eyes getting lost in yours, enchanted, âHow do yâneed me honey bee. Hm? âll Do exactly what yâwant.â
You feel your knees almost buckle, clutching onto his shirt, hands sliding up his back. You donât even realize youâre pressing yourself against him, begging for what your head canât even register, âJust need you, need you Uncle Si, need you.â
This older manâs lips are so soft on yours, gentle, guiding. He tilts your head to the side, encapsulating more of your lips, his tongue runs over your lip, gaining access to your mouth. Simonâs in no rush, kisses so slow, tougues swirling around each otherâs, moaning and groaning into each others mouths. His hands slide down the globes of your ass, squeezing, before lifting you and setting you down on the counter.
Youâre left breathless, string of saliva leaving your lips once he pulls away, but not too far, getting between your legs, pulling off your shirt with his to follow. You can only mumble, hands already sliding down his torso, his tattoos, the scars youve already memorized, âWhy am I the only one- hmph- in hurry.â
He sets his hands on the sides of you, grinding his chubbing member against you through his sweatpants, âSweeâart youâve no idea what you do tâme. Hahâ Should I be rougher with you then, huh? âS tha what you want?â
You let out a whine, pussy clenching down on nothing, âWant everythin Uncle Si, everything.â
Itâs a blur, how he got your pants off, underwear hanging off your ankle, slapping his mushroom tip on your fat clit, through your folds, and to your slippery hole and back. Your stomach coils, squirming as he holds your legs open, nipples growing harder as you whine, âDonât tease, mm- hurry.â
He hisses, teeth gritting as he buries himself inside your warm walls, âFuck- Youâre bein greedy baby.â
Your velvety walls clench around him, shivers rolls down your spine, you choke on a moan, your eyes shot when you look up at him, âOnly way I can get what I want.â
Your head starts spinning, the way Simon starts to snapping his hips into yours, working you open, filling you to the brim, and you can see it. The slippery soaking mess youâre making around his heavy girth, angry red and . His hips flex, fucking into deeper that has your eyes rolling to the back of your head, hands clawing down his back as he kisses your neck.
âAangh! Uncle Simon!â
And it only makes him harder, bullying himself till you feel him hitting your g-spot. He groans while your hands run through his hair, âThis what you wanted? Wanted your uncle tâ finally fuck you tight little cunny like youâve been needing.â
âMmm- D-Donât call itâ shit- right there! âS right there!â Your pussy trembles as his paces picks up, the countering daring to shift with every filthy thwack, your skin slapping against each other. Balls of your feet are in the dip of his back while he only diggs deeper inside you, drawing out your orgasm that has your toes curling. Mewling, âuncle simon, uncle Simonâ
He lifts you off the counter, calloused hands kneading the globes of your ass, his cock still slotted deep in your honey dew walls, hiking up higher with every step he makes out the kitchen
You whimper, hands gripping onto his beefy shoulders, âWait- Si- nngh- Uncle Si take it out, I-Iâll cum again.â
âThen do it, let me feel you honey bee.â He slams you down on his cock, hungry for it, groaning at the grip youâve got his cock in, the way his cockhead brushes against your womb.
Your hips buck, arch backing while your sensitive pussy throbs around him, your clit all swollen, crying out as topple over again.
Your skins all sweaty as your back hits the mattress of the bed, can see the slick slipping down your mound, letting him box you in with his body. Simon French kisses you again, groaning in your mouth as you suck his tongue, spreading your legs, his member hitting your thigh.
âNot done with you yet dovie,â he grunts, slipping back into you slow, till his balls are pressed right against you, hands pressed down right where the crown of his cock is kissing your cervix, âGotta show you just how much your Uncle missed ya.â
a/n: well, how was it? I ended up going the needy/âooga booga itâs forbiddenâ route (which is cliche right?) to the point I just had to follow through with it before I deleted itâ ď¸, itâs okay I think. Gross (complementary)
He'll have you sit on his lap naked, just so you'll get his jeans dirty. Something about it really makes his cock throb.
Or, he'll fuck you on his fingers while wearing his favourite pair of gloves before a mission, just so he has something to lick and smell when he gets lonelyâand you do get a helluva fucking when your scent wears off his gloves sooner than usual. As if you can control that.
After one too many punishments for that though, you pushed him down and sat on his face while he wore his balaclava. Practically waterboarding the bloke with your arousal. Simon always loved when you were just as perverted as he was.
The thing that turns you on disgusts you the most? You'll be bent over in your kitchen, garden, laundry; and Simon'll come up behind you, shove his fingers in you before pulling them out before you can properly register what he's doing, walking off and sucking his fingers with a pleased hum.
You've scolded him for it countless times, yet the pervert doesn't care. Smiling at you in a way that from any other man? It would make your stomach twist in disgust. But from Simon? You can't get enough.
And yes, he is in fact the type of guy to pull your asscheeks apart so he can lick his thumb and press it against the spasming ring of muscle,
"If she keeps winking at me like this, I'll have to fuck her too." Growled in your ear while you whine in disgust, as if you don't have a pretty little collection of plugs in the back of your dresser already.
You and Simon just loved pretending like you were being corrupted by him.
â§Â°. âđšâ°đşâ. °â§
Buy my cat a treat? (â˘Ë â˘ă.á
Might change my divider, and way of colouring text. I dunno guys. Anyway hiiiii lol please don't sound me for not posting until now. Can women be sounded? God I hope not.
simon's riley cock so big you can take just a tip, he's aware of his own size, the thick, veiny girth with mushroom tip that no one could take before at all. even sucking him off is a real struggle, making your lips stretch uncomfortably, sensitive skin left torn in the corners, aching and stinging. so you found another way to make you both enjoy this.
not just with your palm, although he enjoys the feel of your smooth, tight fist stroking his warm cock, length pulsing and throbbing, beading precum down your fingers and knuckles. the sight is enough to make him near his orgasm, abdominal muscles tensing, rippling as simon grunts and moans. biting at his pale lip, hips bucking up to fuck in the tight squeeze.
rudy crown of his cock coated with beading, glistening drops of precum, as simon slaps his still hard shaft against the puffy, slick folds of your pussy. your hips squirming at the feeling, moaning short and sweet, and he shudders at both the feeling and the sight of you. spreading your pretty cunt, showing your pulsing, wet hole that waits for him, as he rubs down, smearing the tacky liquid from his length against your fluttering lips.
making you arch up into the feeling, grasp onto his forearm that is braced next to your head, nails sinking into the ink tattooed over his pale skin. his leaky tip breaches your hole, sinking along the snug, warm walls of your pussy, feeling every pulse and clamp that is already makes simon tremble. thighs tensing as they pump forward, sheathing in as much of his gorged girth as he can.
simon ruts in messily, unstoppable in his sloppy, frantic thrusts, groaning and grunting at the feeling, sweat dripping down his rippling back as he tenses against the tingling sensation. lightheaded to the point where his eyes turn opaque, pupils dilated, drunk at the fast approaching orgasm that pools low in his stomach. your mewling gasps a tumbling background to the rising, slick squelch of your cunt.
you both cling to this sparkling feeling, how good it feels, being so close to sink fully into your tiny, needy hole that clenches in rapid pulses around him. but simon has to hold back, calloused palm splaying across at your fattened clit, brushing a thumb over, rolling. it's enough to make your tight gummy walls clench down harshly, gushing unexpectedly, bringing him to his release faster than ever.
Imagine joining an online chatroom because you struggle meeting people in real life, but god do you want to lose your virginity, right?
Most of the men you meet aren't all that interesting, but there's this one guy...fucking hilarious, witty, a bit dry. His chat name might be "deadmeat" but by the pictures he sends it's anything but.
Deadmeat: thought of you again, bloody mess. Can't wait to have you.
The picture attached is his usual, hard cock covered in at least two previous loads, tip flushed pink and wanting. The calloused, tattooed hand it's cradled in is what drew you in initially. Most folk in the chat room were...well...gifted in size, and as fun as it is to imagine you can hardly manage two fingers on a good long day.
But this man? Perfect fit. About the width of his palm, fingers easily wrapping around. Not small by any means, but definitely not heart-stopping in a bad way.
You: just a few more days. Got the motel booked?
You make sure it's safe, of course you do. Swapping photos together in anticipation for the day.
Deadmeat, or ghost as he requested you call him now, is...a little different than you expected. Tall, for one, nearly brushing his head on the top of the doorframe when you nervously unlock the motel room.
You don't quite realize the breath of your mistake until you and ghost are half undressed in bed and you slip a hand under his waistband. You slide you hand along the soft hair at his base, wrap your hand over it andâ
...no. no way.
The amusement on ghosts face as you frantically shove his pants down and pull out his dick is palpable. Holy shit, he's massive. You're a few centimeters shy of wrapping your hand around him, not to mention the length.
You swallow thickly, glance up at him.
The fucker has the audacity to chuckle, reaching down to wrap his impossibly large hands around his dick, give himself a few pumps "well? Everything you were expecting? Don't worry, i can make it fit."
đৠSucking simon's soul through his sweet cock :p
cw. mature content.
Simon never thought he'd love someone's mouth on his cock, ever. Just the thought of being so intimate with someone has him shuddering, sure he doesn't hate it. His past hookups were decent enough, he never went down on them because that wasn't really his thing and he never forced them to do the same either but when a few of them insisted, he gave in. But ofcourse it didn't really get him going.
So when you came along and sink down on your knees for the first time, blinking up at him with those pretty eyes, simon can't help but caress your hair. You unbuckled his cargo, pulling down the zipper as you stared at the prominent bulge straining against his boxers. You eagerly pulled them down, just enough to reveal his massive throbbing cock, "woah.. it's big" you whispered in awe. Your hands gently took the bulge in your palm, feeling it twitch to life in your hold.
He bit back a groan as you rubbed your small thumb on his swollen tip, the bead of precum smearing on your fingers as you let out a giggle and pulled away, bringing the finger to your mouth as you licked it clean, making simon grunt, "Fuck, don' do that luv." But you couldn't help but smirk as you looked up at him and while maintaining eye contact, you pushed his cock down your throat in one go.
Simon couldn't stop the groan that slipped as his large hand gripped your hair tightly, "Fuckin' hell", you choked around him, your spit dribbling past your mouth as you tried to hollow your cheeks but just the sheer girth of it has the inside of your cheeks stretched wide as you gagged. You could barely breath as he quite literally had blocked your windpipe, your hands fisted into simon's jeans as tears burned in your eyes. You pulled back before trying to take more of him but you just couldn't! He was just too big!!
You fully pulled back now, sputtering as you tried to catch your breath but simon groaned in frustration, "Bloody hell!" His hips bucked, chasing your warm mouth, "can't sii, you're so biiig!" You coughed as his tip poked your cheek but simon's hazel eyes looked down at you, wide with new found obsession, "ya can take it." He muttered before gripping your hair and thrusting his cock in.
He let out a grunt, pushing your head deeper onto his cock, not caring if you gagged or cried. Would it be sadistic if he happened to like the sounds you made as you struggled to take his cock down your throat, it did hurt him seeing your poor jaw slacked open as you tried your best to take him but he's make sure to kiss your face better, his poor dovie. Your cheeks sucked on his girthy length while your hands travelled to his heavy balls, squeezing them as he bucked his hips in sudden excessive pleasure.
"Jesus!" Simon's hand gripped your hair as his stomach scrunched and he came right down your throat, making you gag as you pulled back. His cum flowing down the side of your mouth as you coughed, sniffling as tears and snot ran down your face. It was such a mess and honestly as simon stared down at you, there was just hearts missing in his eyes, this had just become his new favourite view. "Ya were amazin', luv."
discoholicmusic
pixelskylines
s-u-f-j-a-n-s-t-e-v-e-n-s
germansingergirl
2087
prguitarman
