I asked my bf if he wanted to hear which warhammer primarchs were on my hear me out cake and he said no???? He said he didnt want to hear which of his heroes i would fuck. Like im sorry did anyone hear about Sanguinius and also just decide that he probably lovesssss eating pussy when who ever is on their period. Ferrus Manus is 100% book boyfriend coded. Fulgrim is begging to be the sexy demon seducing one of the most devout worshipers of the emporer, or convincing an aldari prince to sacrifice their craft world to be gifted ascention to demon prince and be by fulgrims side. I mean Roboutte is def fucking that aldari girl.
cw: jealous Simon Riley, sex at a party, dub con, hair pulling, rough sex, use of being owned, mentions of male masturbation, mentions of cumming untouched, reader gets fucked stupid, use of instagram and people messaging the reader, filming a video/ pornography?, creampie
Simon Riley who isn't a jealous boyfriend. So what you're absolutely drop dead fucking gorgeous and gain every males attention in the room, he didn’t care. He wasn't going to let their gazes get to him, how low do you think of him? You weren’t theirs, they didn’t own you- he did.
One strong, muscular, arm draped over your shoulder as his eyes locked on a man across the room, lips puckered with irritation as he sipped from his beer at your friend’s Halloween party. They knew better than to look at you, they knew better than to even think about competing against him. He’d kill them- he’d enjoy it too.
Simon Riley who isn't a jealous boyfriend but has to blink away his emotions when you walk over to him. Hips swaying and tits bouncing in your revealing little Halloween outfit- the outfit he couldn't get enough of. You had posted a photo on your story once you'd arrived; Simon, of course, being behind the camera, making sure your body look divine and your pretty little face impeccable.
His sexy little girl had to look her best on camera. Your red lipsticked lip quivering in fear as you held out your phone to him, his eyes scanning the messages some sorry excuse of a man had sent you.
'My dick would look so good inside you.' Was written, followed by a 'I'm fucking my fist to your photos.' It was perverted, pathetic and overall just sad. Simon could almost see why they’d sent that, he would’ve done the same have you had not been dating.
Who wouldn't think thoughts like that? Who wouldn't stroke their cock to the sight of you, so innocent and lovely. Simons dick hardened as he remembered the first time you’d met. Your eyes alluring him, having him cumming in his jeans just from one look, he had to keep you for himself after that.
His hand grabbed your small one, the roughness of his scared palm contrasting between your moisturised hands. Smooth soft skin against his textured one. He lead you upstairs in this guys home, walking into an empty bedroom before circling around the edge of the bed, signalling for you to join him there.
Upon entering the unoccupied room, your shifted in the air, high heels clacking against the floor as you stood hesitantly, unsure. Swallowing down the caution in your voice, your eyes locked on to Simon.
"What are we doing?" But he just continued to instruct you over, grinning playfully. You sat on the bed beside him and before you could process anything he pushed you down against the duvet, grabbing you by the hair and laying you on your front. Hand guiding downwards to rip your thong off before grabbing your phone and pressing record.
His cock slammed into your pussy hard, hips thrusting faster than ever as you choked out a sob, tears pouring from your eyes as Simon used you, fucked and fucked you before he spoke up.
Voice dark and husked, slightly strained from how good he was feeling as he brought your pussy into shot, filming the way his cock slid inside and fit perfectly. Capturing your skimpy Halloween costume practically falling off of your body too.
"O’s cunt is this?" He growled. Words sprawled uselessly from your lips: too lost in the pleasure. The only thing you could mutter being a 'you' before returning back to your whimpering and drooling mess. Simon couldn’t contain his laugh, slowing the pace down just a little. The slap of his balls hitting you as his thrusts calmed. The fist buried deep in your hair clutched as he yanked you back, face facing the ceiling as you breathed heavily.
"Say it. Tell him who owns this cunt, baby." And you cried, managing to say Simon through the ecstasy you were feeling, so lost and drowning in pleasure to care anymore. You didn't care why he was fucking you, how he was fucking you or what he was going on your phone- you just wanted him to keep going and not to slow down until you finish all over his cock.
Simon flipped the camera around, capturing himself a redden cheeked, lidded eyed mess with sweat droplets falling from his forehead, panning the camera down once more to show his muscular body thrusting in and out one last time.
"That's right, it’s mine. My tight pussy- my wet hole to fuck. Oh it’s all mine- you’re mine baby. She’s fucking mine." Before ending the video, spilling deep into you, coating your insides white before sending it off. Brown eyes flickering up to watch as your body melts, the warmth and comfort of what just happened casting a fast sleep over you.
His hand rubbed soothing circles over your back, watching as you shifted to get comfortable, smiling down at you protectively. He quickly opened the messages one last time, not feeling fully satisfied, typing something quickly before shutting the phone off and throwing it somewhere on the bed.
Oh and mate, feel free to go fuck yourself as much as you want to this video. Because you will never ever be in my position. Never.
@beebymoonlight there's no point in pulling a baddie if ghost never shows her off
he throws the invite on her makeup table as soon as price hands it to him and she picks it up with pinched fingers like it's a bug. ghost usually hates military balls, but he sees the way his girl's eyes light up at the prospect of showing off and knows he's got her.
obviously he pays for everything, happily handing over his card at each annoyed pop of her gum when someone asks how she'll be paying for hair, nails, make-up, the dress. oh he loves the dress, has to stop himself from cutting it to ribbons the first time she models it in the fitting room, settles for holding you against the wall and fucking his fingers into her until he can wipe her slick on the lining. it's worth it for the way her hips sway as she walks into the ball, every eye in the room raking over the way she positively glows. which makes it all the more satisfying for him to glower behind her, ruining her entrance with his mere presence, sticking close by to keep any interaction just at the edge of awkward, until she starts getting fed up with him and he can see her eye starting to twitch.
it's his favorite part when she breaks and whisper yells at him in a corner after he told a general that for "how much I paid fer the bra, 'er tits better look good."
"shut the fuck up, oh my god." she hisses at him, and all the blood rushes straight to his cock. which means she's probably soaking those little panties he bought her.
"pull yer tits out," he tells her just to watch her eyes narrow, "give ya a new necklace."
So don’t think about Ghost keeping the SUV steady on the dark back roads, one hand loose on the wheel, while you’re kicked back in the passenger seat- plush thighs spread just enough that every passing headlight catches the soft shadow between them. He hasn’t said a word in miles, but his eyes keep dragging down, heavy lidded.
Right hand suddenly leaves the wheel and sneaks straight under your waistband. Thick gloved fingers press right against your panties. The second you squeal and swat at his arm he clicks his tongue, completely unbothered.
“Bet that cunt’s already drippin’ just from me drivin’ you around. Makes my cock ache.”
He gives you one slow, firm rub before pulling his hand back. A minute later the road turns rough and he hits a couple potholes on purpose. When you complain about the jolts, Ghost reaches over again without even glancing away from the road, hand sliding straight down the collar of your shirt to cup one tit, squeezing it hard as the car bounces. “Tits bouncin’ every time we hit a bump, love.” Making you roll your eyes.
Later, you stretch your leg out with a little sigh, getting comfy, foot pressing against the dash. Ghost lets out a low, rough groan from deep in his chest. One hand leaves the wheel completely and lands heavy between your thighs, palming your cunt right there through the fabric l, grinding the heel of his palm against you.
“Fuckin’ hell, that camel toe’s got me hard as a rock. You know what that does to me? Drivin’ you around while you do nothin’ but look like a wet dream?”
His fingers press firmer, voice dropping to that gravel growl while he steers one handed.
“Stay spread like that, lovie. Don’t you dare close those thighs. You’re not doin’ shit but sittin’ pretty and gettin’ me hard. Whole job is lookin’ fuckable while I handle everything. Next quiet spot I see, I’m pullin’ over and you’re ridin’ this cock.”
⚠️: age gap, virgin!reader, Simon got some perverted thots about you.
Part 2
Back from the dead but I can’t stop thinking about truck driver!Simon Riley hitting on the cute, young and eager dispatcher!reader.
The company you work for doesn’t have a strict dress code, so you’re always wearing cutesy outfits and fuck, it’s drives Simon mad.
Of course, the outfits are appropriate, not too showy, but your rainbow-sunshine, mixed with a little shyness makes Simon wanna corrupt the fuck out of you.
Especially during the summertime when you show up to work in your cute summer dresses. He comes inside to drop off some paperwork, and you’re sitting at the receptionist desk, eagerly getting up and greeting him so so happily.
Can’t get over your beautiful smile, eyes, soft hair and your tits that sat so perfectly in the corset portion of your dress.
It didn’t help that you clearly liked him back. He noticed how you’d perk up when you heard his voice in the morning. In fact, a few of your co-workers teased you about your little crush on Simon, and you never denied it. You’d become flustered and look away.
Simon Riley was everything you craved for. A man who could protect, love, cherish and take care of you. Every morning, when he showed up in his rough, dirty jeans, his thick, black sweater that reeked of his musk and grease, and the gloves. Lord have mercy, the sight of his hands, his fingers, had you drooling.
So when the opportunity came, you were right there to snatch it.
Your company threw BBQs every summer. In the morning, everyone worked, but as soon as noon hit, the grill was fired up and everyone was outside, eating and socializing.
Simon had finished his load in the morning and stopped by in the afternoon. He was sat next to Price, beer in hand while they talked about the best kind of cigars or whatever.
He kept his eyes on you throughout the evening. Soon the sunset, and people were leaving. You were in charge of cleaning up, so you were one of the last ones to leave. Simon sat around with Price, their conversation seemingly never ending.
It wasn’t until Simon overheard your co-worker asking if you need a ride home. And you responded with, “I’ll just call an Uber.”
No no no no no no no.
Simon spoke before he could even think.
“Birdie, you need a ride home?” His asked, voice gruff.
“It’s okay, Simon. I’ll Uber home.”
“It’s alright. You’re on my way, birdie.”
With Simon’s insistence and for fuck sakes, it was Simon, you agreed.
He helped you into his lifted truck (you absolutely despised these kinds of trucks), but for a big man like Simon, it was fitting.
The ride home wasn’t awkward, he lets you yap away about some workplace drama that he’s missed out on. When you arrive to your apartment complex, you’re compelled to invite him in for some tea.
Tea, that ends up with you sprawled out on your bed while Simon kisses every inch of your body. You’re already naked, meanwhile, Simon hasn’t taken anything off beside his stupid gloves.
When he fingers you, your tightness catches him off guard. Of course, it turns him the fuck on, but the way tears well in your eyes tell him that there’s something more.
You’re gripping his tatted forearms, eyes wide, looking into his, “it’s my first time.” And Jesus Christ, Simon’s dick damn near explodes in his pants.
Just an unedited blurb. Lemme know if you want more:)
You knew you should've put your gas mask on. You were just in such a hurry to get that wing of Makarov's base cleared - you broke down the door of a laboratory-like room, no time to react before some sort of pink gas flowed out.
You got several lungfuls of the sweet-smelling gas before you managed to get your gas mask over your face.
You needed to warn the others. You cried out into your comms, "Gas! There's some kind of gas, west wing! Get your masks on!"
The others responded affirmatives. You proceeded into the lab, gas mask firmly over your face. The pink gas had dispersed. You weren't feeling any different. No burning as you breathed, not even a headache.
The lab was empty. Not a soul in sight. There were still beakers of chemicals, equations, and lab notes scattered across the tabletops. You took everything you could.
You finished clearing the western wing when you started feeling... strange. You felt hot. Sweaty. Before you could really even realize what was happening, you were face-first on the floor.
You woke up in the back of the humvee. You'd been stripped down to your t-shirt and shorts. You still felt too hot. Every touch and brush of fabric against your skin sent sparks down your spine.
You let out a low whine, pulling at your remaining clothes weakly. What the fuck was that gas?
"Hey, hey, calm down, love. You're feverish, just lie back down," Gaz murmurs, capturing your wrists in his hand, "Cap, she's awake."
You moan at the feeling of Gaz touching you, even your fucking wrists. Gaz jerks back like he'd been burned, face etched with shock.
You could feel the stares of the other men as you writhed in your seat, tugging off the rest of your clothes. Your skin was burning hot to the touch and covered in sweat.
You kicked off your panties, moaning as your fingers brush over your clit.
"What the fuck..." You heard Price mumble, staring at you through the rear view mirror, "What the fuck did she breathe in?"
You hear Soap respond with something like, "We won't know till medical does a tox screen, but probably a chemical weapon of some sort..."
You grind up against your fingers, whining loudly. Your pussy is dribbling, leaking all over your fingers and down your thighs. Your clit was throbbing.
It took you less than five minutes to coax an orgasm out of yourself, moaning and shuddering. You don't stop pumping your fingers in and out of yourself.
Your head lolls backward, and you slump over onto Ghost. You feel Ghost stiffen under you. His hands latch onto your waist, tugging you into his lap.
You shriek, your oversensitive pussy throbbing against the rough canvas of Ghost's pants. You let out a weak little whine, grinding against Ghost's bulge.
"M not gonna fuck you, lovie. Not while you're like this." Ghost grumbles, grinding you back and forth on his bulge. Ghost grunts. Your pussy is boiling hot and sopping. "Easy, easy. You'll hurt yourself."
You manage to cum a few times, just like that. With your Captain watching. With the Sergeants watching. In a fucking humvee, speeding out of enemy territory.
You plead and beg for more. Ghost refuses to give it to you. You can hear Gaz frantically jerking his cock next to you. You can hear Soap sucking Price's cock in the front seat.
Something solid presses against your entrance. You instantly grind down on it, moaning. You sink all the way down to the hilt. You're whining.
"Fuckin' whore. She's fuckin' herself on it!" Soap laughs.
You look down, and you're riding the handle of Ghost's fucking knife. Your pussy flutters around it as you cum from the sight.
You stayed sat on Ghost's lap, the handle of his knife deep in your pussy, for the entire ride to the exfil point. Ghost was soaked from how wet you were.
"We're not done yet, baby. Still got our chopper ride yet."
Warnings: drunk sex!, p in v, unprotected sex!, choke hold, you catch konig masterbating!, very hrny reader, shoving ur undies in his mouth :3, a bit of pervy konig!, creampie!, overstimulation
You loved teasing your new roommate, there was always something sexy in seeing a big scary man get real shy.
Konig pretended he didn’t notice the pair of boxer underwear you used as shorts. He ogled you from the kitchen counter as the outline of your puffy cunt came into view. You were looking for the remote, kneeling and arching yourself to fit under the couch, arm swatting around. “Found it!”
The pink flimsy cloth left almost nothing to the imagination. You walked around cluelessly, pretending you didn’t notice Konig frozen in the corner of the room.
-
You stumbled into the flat as the clock hit 1:00 am. “Shhh” you whispered to yourself in a giggle. You froze when you heard an unfamiliar sound coming from the far corner of your apartment.
The sound of heavy breathing and skin slapping snapped you out of your tipsy haze. Was konig masterbating? You pressed your ear onto his door, listening for it again.
Your eyes widened as the sound of your name came out seething from his mouth.
There was no use in fighting the way your thighs squeezed together as the wet sounds grew louder from his room.
You turn the knob slightly, pushing it slow as you peek your head in. “Jesus konig” you gasped at the sight of konigs bahemoth body sprawled on his bed, jerking himself with a pair of your lace pink undies.
Konig jumps, eyes widening in surprise but he doesn’t stop. He just looks at you with watery eyes, jerking himself messily.
“Mhmm” you purr as you walk towards him in a haze. He was so fucking big. In every way.
You tug your flimsy thong off from under your dress, tangling it in your fingers before you straddle konig. You shove the thong in his mouth, smiling as he sucks on the cloth for a fresh taste.
Konigs eyebrows furrow as the smell of alcohol lingers on your form. “Hey hey, you drunk?”
“Just a little, you don’t have to worry konig. I’ll fuck you even when I’m sober, I just needed a little push” you coo.
Koing was a pervert but his mother never raised him to be type of man to take advantage of a woman. He felt guilt building in his stomach. You looked lucid but the smell of tequila in your breath said another.
“Please konig”
Fortunately, It really didn’t take long for him to give in. He’s a man after all.
You were face down ass up, heavy thrusts knocking the wind out of you. “Yeah you like that? You better stand by your word and let me fuck this cunt all I want” Konig seethed.
Tears filled your eyes as he pushed himself inside you to the hilt. Your nails clawed at his chest from behind “k- koniggg” You slobbered out. A guttural moan rumbled from konig you as your cries grew louder.
A heavy hand landed on the back of head, yanking you and forcing your eyes to connect “Ya were begging for this” Konig seethed. He let go of your head with a heavy shove.
Air left your lungs as you felt konigs arm wrap around your neck, locking you in with a choke hold. “Yeahhhh baby look at that pretty face, all full of tears and drool. Beautiful little angel” he cooed on as he smacked your face around.
Your legs trembled as he nudged at that gummy spot in your tummy. You were so full, you could feel your muscles adjusting with every thrust. Your nails dug into his meaty arm, a satisfied groan vibrated on your back as your cat like nails dug into his skin.
“Mhpm! K-“ you felt your brain go fuzzy as your orgasm hit you. All you could do was bask in the bliss of what you were feeling.
Konig choked on his salvia as you shoved back onto his lap mid orgasm. A smile curved on his lips as he came inside you, not bothering to try and pull out as you pressed yourself flush against him. The room was full of moans as both of you rode out your orgasms.
“Fuckk” Konig groans as he spreads your thighs a bit, now fully faced with his dick plugging your cunt with his cum. Strings of his seed spilled down your folds as he moved slowly, groaning as he fucked himself deeper into your ovaries.
“How about you stay like this for a bit longer mhm? Yeah? Thank you love” Konig chuckled as you laid there nodding to whatever he said.
Thinking about John price who helps his girl study, a young precious thing in college. His fat cock stuffed deep in her cunt as she sits on his lap, her back against his chest, legs spread wide and shaking. He put a blindfold on her so she couldn't read the textbook he was holding. One hand gripped her hip. Everytime she gets an answer right she gets three thrusts and just as the pleasure starts, it stops suddenly leaving her whining trying to desperately move but he holds her in place. He tsks, "Now now love, just five more questions" he scolds ignoring the way his cock twitches inside her gummy walls.
It's been 2 hours.
Tears are streaming down her face from frustration, needy and wanting to be fucked dumb which was a promise if she gets most of them right. She studied hard for this so she deserved to be pounded, held down and take it. Arousal has long since puddled on his lap creating a sticky mess.
Finally when she gets them right, he puts the textbook down kissing her neck with a gruff, "Good girl" and holds her down by the hips as he starts thrusting roughly into her, a fast brutal pace which has her moaning loudly. He praises her for being so smart and that she's definitely passing her exam tomorrow as she screams his name.
Married!reader x Obsessed!Simon Riley. cw: fem!reader, Cheating, Oral, fingering, p in v, hair pulling, manhandling, pregnancy, getting caught.
Simon Riley who dreams of having you to himself. Too bad you're married. That's not stopping him.
Can you blame him? it's hard not to when you're oh so sweet to him. when you take extra time to make sure he's not too hurt after a mission, when you bring him baked goods your supposedly "good" husband won't bother eat.
And especially when you have your pretty lips wrapped around his cock like the good girl you are.
Simon Riley who makes sure you choke on every inch of him, knowing your husband is in the next room and everyone knows these walls are thin.
Simon Riley who can't help but to watch your every expression while his fingers are thrusting in and out of your wet cunt.
Simon Riley who can't help but to enjoy how hard you're trying to be quiet while the others are in the next room.
Simon Riley who forces you to look in the mirror at yourself while fucking into you as one hand is pulling at your hair and the other gripping your hip tightly making you take every inch of him.
Simon Riley who fucks you so hard you can't help but to scream and cry as he overstimulates you.
Simon Riley who wasn't the one to get jealous, but when it came to you it was different. Bending you over whenever he saw you talking to that lowlife of a husband and reminding you his cock can't fuck you like his can.
Simon Riley who makes you scream his name so loud he knows your husband heard it.
Simon Riley who smirks upon hearing that door slam open.
Simon Riley who was thrusting into your wet pussy that when he looked back and saw your husband all he did was grin and kept going.
Simon Riley who groans when he feels your cunt tighten around him as you cum.
Simon Riley who is ecstatic to hear 5 weeks later that not only did you get a divorce but that you're pregnant.
being the new, shy tech for the 141 introduced by laswell, and the boys are already trying to tease you. (18+)
you’re playing a game of truth or dare, taking shots and laughing and trying to relax even though the pub is so loud. it’s a saturday, there’s a footie game on, and you’re just trying to get to know them better.
well, johnny and gaz dare you to ask ghost out. the big brute that’s standing like an awkward statue ordering more drinks at the bar. and there you go, swaying on fawn legs, poking ghost gently in his meaty arm. the boys watch as ghost has to bend down to hear you over the noise, and you stand on your toes, putting your hands on his shoulder and murmuring in his ear.
you disappear with that big giant man’s arm around your waist, and when you come back to the table about twenty minutes later, you’re giggly and a little sweaty and stumbling just a little more. johnny leans over the table, confused.
“what happened? what did he say?”
“huh?” you raise a brow.
“what did he say? when ye asked him out?”
“oh…” you go warm all over, pressing the backs of your hands to your cheeks. “is that…is that what you meant? i couldn’t hear you!”
“what?”
the booth rattles when ghost sits his weight down right beside you, big fingers wrapping around the nape of your neck and curling you up so he can press his forehead to yours. the eye contact is intense, and you break out into another fit of giggles as you stare right back at him.
big, scary bear. adorable giant.
you turn back to johnny, shrugging your shoulders.
“i thought…i thought you said to ask him to eat me out.”
Johnny MacTavish who heard the priest say “Be fruitful and multiply and fill the earth.” during Sunday Mass and developed the biggest breeding kink as a result.
As a lad, it was just words, rote scripture drilled into him alongside Hail Marys and Our Fathers. But as he grew, hitting puberty, it twisted into something profane, a burning itch under his skin. The verse became his gospel, fueling fantasies that had him waking sweat soaked and hard as steel.
In a perfect work, he was a virile force scattering his seed across continents like a storm. He’d picture it in vivid detail: pinning a lithe operative from MI6 against a Berlin safehouse wall during a layover, her legs wrapped around his waist as he rutted into her.
“Take it all, lass,” he’d tell her in the fantasy, flooding her with hot spurts, imagining her womb clutching greedily at his cum. Months later, in his dreams, she’d be back in London, belly distended like a ripe fruit, stretch marks mapping the conquest of his DNA reshaping her body.
Or that sultry informant in Kabul, her dark hair fanned out on sandy sheets as he bred her deep. He’d visualize the aftermath: her cradling a fat, chubby babe against her swollen tits, the infant’s eyes opening to reveal that piercing, astonishing blue- his blue, a genetic brand.
The fantasies escalated in intensity, borders blurring. A backpacker in Sydney, fucked senseless in a beachside hostel, her cunt milking him dry, pulling out just enough to watch his seed drip from her puffy folds, only to shove back in and plug her tight. Two girls in Tokyo- friends he’d claimed in a neon lit love hotel, alternating between their slick heats, breeding them both in one frenzied night.
Soap’s cock would ache at the thought of their transformations: breasts heaving with milk, nipples dark and leaking, cunts perpetually slick and stretched from carrying his brood.
He’d imagine the sounds- the wet slap of flesh, their pleas turning to moans as he stretched them wide, the guttural cries of labor birthing his kids. Left him dizzy, knowing he’d altered their very biology, left them marked forever, multiplying his line until the earth teemed with echoes of him.
But the SAS was a jealous mistress, chaining him to the grind of ops and ops alone, the ceaseless cycle of infil, exfil, and debriefs- all smothered the fire, turning it to embers.
Demolitions became his outlet, the boom of C4 a pale substitute for the explosive release of his fantasies. He’d channel it into the fight, but at night, alone in his bunk, the verse would whisper back, urging.
Until he saw you.
Soap clocked you instantly in that dim pub. You were sipping a drink, oblivious, but he saw it all in a flash: your body, perfect and primed, swelling grotesquely beautiful with his babies.
Hips widening to cradle multiples- twins, triplets- your skin taut over the mound he’d pump full night after night. Tits ballooning, leaking sweet milk he’d lap up while rutting into your drenched, pregnancy sensitized cunt. Those blue eyed kids clinging to you, more on the way, your womb never empty.
The intensity hit him like a gut punch, cock straining against his jeans as he pictured breeding you feral- tying you down if needed, flooding you until it took, over and over.
A smile curved his lips as he stood. But, he needed to be smart about this- he needed to charm you, take you home, eat you out so many times you were too fucked out to question not using a condom.
And if you did… well… first, before he approached you, Johnny ducked out back, fingers closing around the sewing kit in his vest as he did so.
vacation!john price makes the most of his time off by folding you–the pretty thing he caught staring at his rental boat–in half so he can come inside you nearly every night. he's bending your legs in ways you didn't know possible, pushing your thighs to your chest so he can see the mess you're leaking around him. sometimes, if he's lucky, the light will catch you just right, the man to grunting and cooing at the shining ring of cream at the base of his cock.
"f-fuck, you're deep... feels... feels good." your praise comes out as a stuttering, slurred mess. "really fuckin'–oh, god–s'good."
"christ... s'too bad holiday's almost done, dove." john groans out the reminder, a touch of sad slipping in just under the puffs of pleased breaths. you whine at the hand he presses onto your belly, the sound and sight distracting john, who just tilts his head with pride in his grin. "oh, fuckin' looook a'that, huh. think i might have'ta take ya back home with me... would be a shame ta let a face 'n hole as pretty as yours get away too easy, wouldn't it?"
all you can do is gush and slosh around john as he keeps stuffing himself inside you. holding your knees and puckering your lips every few thrusts so he'll rub his hairy front against your chest and belly every time he bends to kiss you.
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