╰➤ INCLUDES: desperate Adrian, whining, sprinkle of dacryphilia, established relationship, sappy, codependency vibes, hurt/comfort
Adrian wasn’t a sentimental man.
He walked the tightrope of psychopathy with a grace that most sane people lacked entirely. He didn’t flinch when he took a life, when he hurt someone, when someone hurt him. That lethal indifference to the conditions of his physical body let him do what he did, let him keep the streets clean. He’d take a bullet if he had to. Would kill a kid happily if Peacemaker couldn’t manage it. Anything for the cause, anything to ensure justice was carried out.
He wasn’t sure if he was someone who felt love in the way others felt it, but he felt an equivalent. When you stripped him down to bare bones and organs, there were names carved messily on his heart just like anyone else. People who had managed to win his disgustingly solid loyalty, his devotee tendencies. Chris had been the first, then John, and now you.
You hadn’t meant to put your name there, hadn't even realized he’d handed you the knife until the wound was already bleeding. You were nobody special, certainly not someone capable of dismantling an alien race. You were just a friend of a friend, someone who existed in quiet pockets of solitude and occasionally visited Emilia when you knew she was nearing an edge. That’s how it started, how he’d cemented himself as an irreplaceable aspect of the life you now shared with him.
You worked a job that normal people worked, being different from them only in the tremendous weight of your worry. Your co-workers weren’t dating the deranged defender of their homely city - that was just a you thing. Your co-workers weren’t completely consumed by the possibility of a criminal getting the better of their partner, of having to see headlines about it, of having to watch people celebrate it.
You were. You could barely breathe with the gravity of it sometimes.
When the butterfly threat had been neutralized, you were thrilled to have Adrian go back to thieves and dealers. It wasn’t ideal, but he loved it, and you loved seeing him fulfilled. More importantly, he could handle those threats. He made it look easy with how equipped he was for it
Post 11th Street Kids, you and him had managed weeks of peace and domesticity. Nothing deadly hung over your heads anymore, just quiet nights and shared laughter over the absurd headlines being written about him. It was perfect, and it was calm, and it was yours. Something the two of you had all on your own.
After Chris tasked your lover with helping him clean up the corpse of his doppelganger, you knew that time was over. Something new was starting, and at the core of Adrian’s involvement was, yet again, Peacemaker.
You never liked him much. You’d been excited to meet him after hearing the man you love speak so fondly of him. How he was a legend, how he was a role model, how they were best friends. After you’d met him, though, you saw the acidic truth that Adrian’s dedication wasn’t always reciprocated. In this case, it wasn’t even respected.
You’d tried your hardest to voice it, to tell him what you’d felt, what you’d seen. How it seemed like Chris enjoyed him only as long as he was useful, only for the purposes he could serve. He’d looked heartbroken before you even finished talking, so you stopped. You cleaned it up, said Peacemaker just wasn’t your kind of person, but that Adrian was his own man. If he valued the friendship, that was what mattered. You showed your distaste through pointed stares and flat tones whenever you saw him, letting his pleasantries rot in the air like neglected fruit.
Chris had been the cause of your first fight in months. Something entirely too burdensome for such a late hour. He’d called for Vigilante a little after 9, saying that he needed something in the other dimension, and he wanted backup for it. You told Adrian that the request was ludicrous, that not only was it late, but that it wasn’t his problem. Whatever strife the helmet-clad asshole was dealing with was something of his own doing. He should stay, go to bed, stop running to Chris’ every beck and call.
He slammed the door on the way out. You went to bed angry. Something you both had promised never to do.
The door didn’t slam on his way back in. He shut it gently with the hands of a man who’d lost a battle. His footsteps dragged, presumably staining the floor of your holy place with inevitable sins of the outside. It woke you up immediately, the irregularity. He didn’t walk like that. He didn’t open things like they’d yell at him if he pressed too hard. He entered spaces as he was, grand and malevolent. It made you nearly question his identity, question whether or not it was him who’d just walked into the bedroom. His breathing was audible for a moment, sounding like his lungs were shaking the oxygen out instead of fondly pushing.
You sat up when it was clear he was standing still, waiting for something. The room was dark, but light from the window made him decently visible to eyes that had been in darkness for hours. You saw his lips part, as though he was trying to speak, but he just couldn’t.
The sheets were parting around you before you even registered you were moving, allowing your legs to straighten as you stood up. You moved over to his slouched form, all the accumulated rage from before dissolving into nothing but cold air. Was he hurt? Why wasn’t he saying anything?
“Woah, hey.” His neck was craned down, eyes drooping cruelly to the floor, like he couldn’t bear the sight of you. Your hands burned with the heat of his flushed face, tilting his head back up to eye level. “What happened?”
The second he felt the heat of your fingers, the warmth of life, he collapsed into you, forcing you on to the wrinkled sheets of your shared bed. His arms wrapped around you like a ravenous snake readying the prey for consumption. His forehead met your shoulder, nearly crushing you with how close he pressed himself. His cheeks were wet, he’d been crying.
That put the fear of God in you. Adrian Chase didn’t cry.
“Saw you die over there.” You were surprised at how cohesive his speech was, although slurred and thick with bottomless horror. His arms gripped tighter, somehow. Like he was trying to tuck you inside his chest to stop the ending he’d seen. “I saw you in the street and some guy just…”
You didn’t have words that could properly convey the hurt radiating off of him. You weren’t equipped to talk him off this particular ledge.
You put your hand on the back of his head, wrapping both your arms harder against him. Reassurance felt wrong, and comfort felt unreachable with how shaken he was. He could clearly tell you were still alive in the world that was his, but it seemed like he couldn’t digest it. Like your voice, and your smell, and your presence wasn’t enough to stop the fact from slipping through the cracks in his heart.
“I’ve just been sleeping, Adrian. I’m okay.”
You said it as softly as you could, not wanting to shatter the stillness of the air. He nodded against your chest, but he still shook like he was watching what happened play on loop.
“I know.”
You sunk your head down slightly, kissing the side of his head and further messing up his curls that had puffed from the exertion of his outing.
You felt his hands find home on your hips, pushing his fingertips into the pliable flesh in a very specific way. Something he only did when he was needy, when he was aching for the intimacy of being taken, of being seen.
His name slid through your barely parted lips, a warning in the softest degree. He was mourning, barely holding himself together enough to tell you what happened. You didn’t want to hurt him, didn’t want him to do this and then regret in the morning.
“Please, I know. Just need to feel you.”
You went to object, truly. Some vague declaration of his ill mind, his sleep deprivation, his grief. The start of it met his ears both irrefutable and insignificantly. It didn’t matter what you’d almost said, because the latter half died off at the first roll of his hips. The attire you rested in every night was made of thinner material than the clothes you wore during the day, making it that much easier for him to catch you at just the right angle.
A heavenly groan fled from his lips, settling as a tiny vibration against the skin of your neck. Your hands were gripping him tight. Tighter than anything that could be covered by the guise of comfort.
This was greed. Something mindless and insurmountable found only in the childish grinding, in the shameful moisture once again flowing from his glossy eyes.
“Fuck - just like that. Just need this.” His head stayed put against the crook of your collarbone, as though you could shield him from whatever sights were hidden behind his eyelids. “Don’t even wanna be inside you. Just need you close to me.”
Sounds you’d never heard yourself make were pouring mercilessly out of you, not even encroaching the territory of the man above you. He was pitiful, exhaling whimpers so sharp and so wonderful that they could have sliced your skin on impact. It was a magical thing to hold him like this, to be someone so deep within him that this was the result of seeing someone with your face fall victim to circumstance.
He was evidently hard now, and you swear the material of his suit was even rougher when felt through more layers. It’s solid and it’s perfect. The friction of his pumping hips burns you in a way you’d never anticipated, licking stripes of smooth fire up the length of your spine.
“You’re too good for me. ‘m sorry I need you so much.”
You couldn’t think properly enough to interject, simply resorting to shaking your head in disagreement. The pressure of his evident bulge made you continuously clench around nothing, made your inhibition pour out of your ears like soap. You could feel evidence of your own arousal soaking through your underwear. You needed him just as bad, just as carnally.
“But I really fucking do. Couldn’t live without you. Wouldn’t want to.”
He was so strung out that his sentences were bleeding into each other, wobbly and coarse. He was certain of only one thing - you. Your state wasn’t proving much better, head dizzy and fingers tight in his hair. The rhythm you’d managed to find with him was innate, as though your body knew what his was doing before it’d even been considered. It felt so fucking good that you didn’t know how to be with him, didn’t know how to be anything in that moment except whatever he chose to make you.
“Couldn’t live without you either, Adrian.”
If someone had heard an isolated recording of that response, they would most likely assume you were inebriated. Some type of alcohol or laughing gas making your words loopy. Devoted, even. Like someone who’d found the keys to the universe.
And being there with him, it felt like you just might have.
“Shit -”
You could tell he tried to warn you, tried to tell you that he was done for. He didn’t manage to get the cautionary remark out of his mouth, breathing one of the prettiest noises you’d ever heard into your neck like he was sealing a secret into you. Branding you with the time he’d cracked open before you, with the time you’d held his fragments in place.
Maybe in the other world you were gone. A speck of dust to be blown away amongst all the other extinguished life. But here, you were his.
Summary: The Party shows up at Dustin’s house at the wrong time, hearing things that may just scar them for life.
Genre: Smut and fluff, Drabble, blurb, kind of drama? Bro, I have no idea anymore.
CW: Small amount of smut, vague mentions of seggs, brief mention of creamp!e, (I do not apologize for it.) Reader is twenty in this fic and Dustin is eighteen!! use of pet names (baby and sweetheart), use of y/n, second person point of view, Fem!Reader, Byers!Reader, in my mind Reader is plus size/fat, but of course you can read it if you aren’t, no descriptions of Reader’s appearance, she/her pronouns, Reader is very vocal and loud, embarrassing and awkward conversations, that’s basically it!!
Word Count: 1.9k
A/N: This is for the other two Dustin lovers out there! I noticed the extreme lack of Dustin fics so I took it upon myself to write one! I’ve written like three or four others so if anyone is interested in reading those…let me know ;). Anyways, I’m in love with him and I wanna fuck him so here’s a fic! (Barely proofread, let me know if there are spelling mistakes or anything.)
⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆
You stare up at Dustin through wet eyelashes, tears rolling down your cheeks as his hips roll perfectly against you. You’re so lost in the moment you don’t realize the three boys now entering Dustin’s house.
“Why didn’t he answer his radio?” Will questions, walking in behind the other two and shutting the door.
“I don’t know, he’s probably busy getting the campaign ready.” Lucas answers, throwing his bag on the floor.
“Do you think he forgot?” Mike asks next, hopping up on the kitchen counter. “He does seem a little distracted lately-“ Mike’s cut off by the sound of your high-pitched moan. They all jerk their heads to Dustin’s bedroom door, eyes wide and jaws slack.
“Fuck!” You scream, head thrown back against the pillows. Dustin’s been fucking you for the last hour and a half, never letting up despite you already coming three times. He continued thrusting into you, moaning and whimpering in your ear like you’re the best thing he’s ever felt. “Please, please Dusty!” You beg, voice raising. “I-I can’t, please! Need you to come, please.” You whine, crying as you screw your eyes shut.
“You’re okay, being such a good girl for me, yeah?” You whimper at his words. “I’m close, baby, doing so good.” He groans, burying his face into your neck. Dustin was very vocal but he always made sure you were the only one able to hear it, pushing his face close to yours. He liked that you were louder, screaming for the whole neighborhood to hear. He wanted everyone to know you were his and that he was able to pleasure you exactly how you liked.
“Please, please, Dusty!” You squeal when his buries his cock deeper, feeling him hit that spongey spot inside you.
“Oh my god.” Lucas says first, mouth still wide open as he looks back at his friends. “Since when does Dustin have a girl?!” He whispers-yells. Mike stays silent and stares off into space while Will tries to block out the sound.
“I don’t know, he hasn’t mentioned anything about having a girlfriend.”
“Maybe it isn’t a girlfriend.” Mike finally chimes in, snapping out of his daze.
“What?” Will questions, hands planted over his ears.
“Maybe it’s a fling.” He shrugs, making Lucas cringe.
“First of all, disgusting. Second of all, Dustin isn’t that kind of guy, he loves romance.” Will responds, trying not to throw up on the spot. Their conversation is once again cut short when your screams echo from his bedroom, his own grunts becoming audible as he finishes inside you. They all cringe, both Lucas and Mike now covering their own ears.
You lay beside Dustin for a few moments, catching your breath as he wipes away your tears. You start to doze off when he gently shakes you.
“You need to go use the bathroom before you fall asleep.” He whispers, god why did he have to know that?
“I don’t wanna move.” You whine.
“You need to, baby.” He kisses your forehead. “Then you can come right back and lie down while I make you some food.”
“Mmm, food.” You mumble, smiling.
“Yes, food.” Dustin chuckles. “Now come on, I’ll help you up.” You groan but follow his orders. You sit up on the edge of the bed raising your arms so he can pull your very oversized T-shirt over your head. You adjust the neckline before grabbing his hands, he pulls you up off the bed and holds you when your legs wobble.
“God, when did you get so fucking good at this shit?” You mumble, shaking your head as you try to remember how to walk properly.
“Practice makes perfect.” He chuckles, making you slap his chest. You leave the bedroom first, walking into the adjacent bathroom and shutting the door. Dustin pulls his boxers on and leaves the bedroom next, immediately stopping when he spots his friends in his kitchen. His eyes widen as he whips his head back and forth between the kitchen and bathroom. “What the hell are you guys doing here?!” He whisper-yells.
“D&D, you didn’t answer your walkie so we just came over.” Will answers, finally unplugging his ears.
“Shit.” Dustin mutters, hand coming up to rub the bridge of his nose.
“Since when do you have a girlfriend, man?” Lucas asks, mouth full of chips he stole from the cupboard.
“For a while, the point is you all need to leave. Now.” He moves over to Lucas and tries pushing him toward the door.
“Woah! Don’t we get to meet her?”
“Sure, but not right now, for fucks sake.” Dustin hisses, continuing to push Lucas.
“Is it normal for her to scream that much?” Mike asks, having zero filter. Dustin whirls his head back to look at him, eyes bulging out of his head.
“How fucking long have you been here?!”
“A while.” Will answers with a disgusted shiver.
“Is it though?” Mike circles back to the question.
“For her, yes it’s normal. Jesus, can you all fucking leave now?!” Dustin cringes at the answer he provides, hands waving around as he tries to get them out of his house.
“Woah.” Lucas smirks while Will gags. “So you’re telling me she screams that loud every time.” He chuckles.
“I am not answering that.” Dustin shakes his head, throwing his hands down in exasperation.
“That’s a yes.” Mike laughs.
“Seriously, you need to leave. Especially you!” Dustin motions to Will, making him stutter.
“What? Why ‘especially me?’ I haven’t even said anything!” He protests.
“Because she-“ He’s cut off by the sound of the bathroom door opening and your voice. You start walking down the hall, bare feet padding on the carpet.
“Dusty, what are you making-“ You instantly freeze when you walk into the room, looking between all three of your friends and boyfriend. Dustin buries his face in his hands, groaning in embarrassment. “Shit.” You whisper.
“Y/n?!” Will shrieks.
“Hey, Will.” You give a small wave, cheeks flushed.
“Holy shit.” Mike huffs out a sound of disbelief.
“You’re fucking Will’s sister?” Lucas asks with an open mouth, trying so hard not to burst out laughing.
“Don’t say it like that, god!” Will groans, hands coming up to run through his hair. Lucas and Mike’s faces both fall at the same time, realizing it had been you screaming and moaning like that. They both make sounds of disgust, gagging and avoiding your eyes. ”How long have you two been a thing?! Why did you keep it from me?!” Will asks, stepping toward you.
You stutter and watch as Dustin finally pulls his face away from his hands.
“I uh, would love to continue this conversation but I need to-“ You try to turn away but Will stops you as he shouts.
“No, we need to talk about this right now! I can’t believe you kept this from me! Wh-“
“Will!” You scream, cutting him off and making him go quiet. “I do not have any underwear on, so unless you want to continue this conversation knowing that fact, I’m gonna go put on some boxers. Alright?” Will slowly nods, swallowing thickly. “Great.” You pull your shirt over your ass as you walk back to Dustin’s bedroom. Dustin finally steps toward his room, turning around to address his friends.
“You two need to leave, you can stay.” He points at Will before moving to his room.
“Wait, where are you going?” Will asks with a grimace. Dustin rolls his eyes with a sigh.
“She’s been anxious about you finding out for a long time, she’s probably having a fucking panic attack right now so I’m going to comfort her. You two start fucking moving!” Dustin yells at Lucas and Mike before entering his bedroom. You whip your head back to look at him, face falling as a tear runs down your cheeks.
“Dusty.” You whine.
“I know.” He holds out his arms and you run into him, arms wrapping around his waist. You bury your face into his neck, sniffling. “I completely forgot we were playing D&D today, I’m so sorry, baby.” You shake your head, letting him know it isn’t his fault.
“I’m just so embarrassed. I can’t believe they were all just sitting there, and now Will found out in the worst way possible.” You groan, finally pulling away to look at him. “Do you know how long they had been there?” You whisper, worried you don’t want to know the answer.
“Apparently a while.” Yeah, you didn’t want to know the answer.
“How long is ‘a while’?” Dustin tilts his head from side to side.
“Long enough for Mike to ask me if ’it’s normal for you to scream that much.’” You groan loudly before slamming your head against his shoulder.
“Goddamnit, I told you me being so loud would eventually backfire!” You gently punch his chest. He grunts but smiles, grabbing your hand before placing a kiss to it.
“I’m sorry, I love it when you’re loud, sue me.” You pull away again to scowl at him. ”Sorry, sorry. Come on, I’ll make you some food while you talk to Will.” He grabs your hand and leads you out of his room once more. You follow after him anxiously, looking at Will when you enter the room. Dustin nods at you before going into the kitchen and starting your food.
“Hey.” You greet him, plopping down onto the chair next to him. You bring your knees up to hold against your chest, curling into yourself. “Ask away.”
“How long?” Will asks first, wasting no time. You sigh, shaking your head. You can’t believe this is happening today.
“Two years.” Will chokes on air, eyes going wide.
“Two years?! How the hell did I not know?!”
“We’re sneaky, and lucky.” You respond, shrugging.
“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”
“I was afraid of how you’d react. I mean…I’m two years older than him, some people think it’s weird. I didn’t want you to think it was weird too, or think it was gross. I was scared, I couldn’t stand the idea of you hating me for it.”
“I’d never hate you for it, I just…I’m surprised.”
“I know, Will.” You reply softly.
“Are you…happy?” He asks, finally staring over at you instead of the floor.
“Extremely. The happiest I’ve been in like…nine years.” Will smiles, nodding at you, which you know is him giving you his blessing. “I’m sorry we didn’t tell you, we should have but again…I was terrified.”
“I understand, don’t worry.” Will laughs, shaking his head.
“Good. You aren’t mad at me are you?” You ask, biting your lip.
“No, I’m not mad. Kind of disgusted and disturbed, maybe even a little traumatized…but not mad.” You both laugh, the sound making Dustin’s heart melt. He places the grilled cheeses on a plate before turning off the stove and walking over to you. You look up with sparkling eyes, smiling and taking the plate from him.
“Thank you, sweetheart.” You peck his lips and take a large bite out of the sandwich, not realizing how hungry you were. Dustin stands beside you, hand resting on your shoulder. Will looks between the both of you, watching Dustin’s face as he gazes at you. His smile is so wide, cheeks pink as he admires you while you practically inhale your grilled cheese.
How could he possibly be mad when Dustin’s looking at you like you’re the only thing that matters? That’s all you’ve ever wanted, and now you finally have it. No, he could never be mad about that.
Sworn sword Ser Duncan the Tall, who has dedicated his life to protecting you, the heir of your House. Pining for you, watching from the corners of your hall, following you everywhere, always three steps behind.
Your literal shadow.
Until the keep is raided and pillaged, burnt to the ground by Blackfyre men, and he barely gets you both out by the skin of your teeth. Your pretty gown tattered and singed, teary cheeks pressed against his armoured back as you both ride away; his stallion trots through the hidden paths in the deep woods, shielded by the cover of the stormy night.
Ser Duncan, dismayed by his proper lady, who strips down to nothing with him, ordered they huddle together for warmth during the night, since a fire was not an option, with the enemy still so close.
He still makes sure you’re taken care of whilst on the run, even if it means he goes without... Stopping by an inn for the night after a few days of travelling? Well, he’ll make sure he gets the innkeeper to run you a steaming bath with scented oils and soaps.
Ser Duncan always makes sure you have a glass of wine with your dinner, not ale or cider for his fine lady. He gives you the bigger portion of food even though it gets placed in front of him.
He pays kids he saw plaiting and braiding each other’s hair with some candies to restyle yours for you; your pretty locks have tangled without the maids to take care of it. Meanwhile, he trades a warmer cloak for you from the local market when you aren’t looking.
Gods forbid his lady feels discomfort; he just wants you to feel like yourself, even in the uncertainty.
Dunk who is so devoted to your well-being that he's blind to the way you take care of him. How you fix the broken straps of his armour, mend the gashes on his clothes, clean the dirt from his brow with your handkerchief.
He's oblivious.
When you cuddle up to him, your head is on his big, muscled arm, one hand on his chest, rising and falling along with his breathing; the times the hedge is your shelter for the night.
Warmth, however, is only an excuse.
You wait for the moment sleep has fully taken him, and your palm begins to slide south until you reach his groin, the tips of your fingers drawing circles on his cock as it starts to grow under your hand.
The moment his hips start to buck under your ministrations, you stop. hesitating for a few heartbeats until he settles again, cock hard as iron under his breeches. Slowly you slip the hand you used to arouse him to the heat between your thighs.
Moments later, as the pulsing of his groin becomes unbearable, Duncan wakes up to you shaking and panting against him, your body curled up and covered in a thin sheet of sweat.
And he feels so guilty, cockhead leaking and throbbing. Clearly, you had fallen ill during the night, while he was having a pleasure dream about you.
Sworn sword Ser Duncan the Tall, poor knight who has no idea his Lady wants to fuck him dumb.
₍ᐢ..ᐢ₎ 🍥 toji - the old man next door that you crave finally catches you in the act n punishes you. chubby!reader
tw : watching (?) while masturbating(fem), grinding, pet names, hair pulling, bent over counter, spanking, fingering, stretching you out, finger sucking, penetration ,lil bit of degradation, manhandling, creampie. (lmk if i missed any >ᴗ< )
𝜗𝜚 ‘click!’ your window locks in place, wide open, feeling the peaceful breeze hit your face. your neighbor, who’s name you’ve figured out by his not so quite one night stands, Toji ; is doing his usual workout out back. In his basic attire which is no shirt and sweatpants that hung a little too low.
over the past few months of moving and living next to your hot new neighbor, you learned a few things. one : he has women up and down this block knocking at his door. some he gets to know for a night, others not. two : man do those women have a point. this man, was a sight. big broad shoulders leading up to bold bulky arms, a naturally cinched waist, thick muscular thighs, he was a beast alright. and finally three : this beast is actually a geezer. probably mid thirties.
nonetheless he was one that you wished to run into while taking out the trash. to sneak a peek at while on a morning walk. till you found out about his work out sessions in the backyard.
You first noticed the slow build up of a gym in the back yard through your bedroom window. It was a warm summer day, so you thought why not open the window, let the breeze in. As you unlock the window and push it open, you hear the sounds of chains and grunts. Your eyes search for the source till they land on the tiniest flash of hair. You lean forward, stretching out and see your neighbor, striking a punching bag.
You gasp and retreat back inside, hoping he didn’t see you. your heart is racing, the image of your neighbor sweaty, focused, lingers in your mind for the rest of day.
from then on it was like a routine for you too. cranking open your window and savoring the view of your sweaty neighbor. his large chest heaving from his heavy breathes, his muscular arms flexing, all of it made your plush thighs clench and mind wonder.
what if he was panting like that on top of you?
what if it was his arms flexing beside your head?
it went on till eventually you had a chair neatly placed by the window and played with yourself. staring at the old man work out.
your fat pussy clenches every time he grunted a little louder, pudgy fingers twitching inside of you. feeling and prodding your gushing walls. you curl your fingers deeper inside your sweet pussy, thrusting them repeatedly, in and out. you imagine it was his famous cock that somehow the whole neighborhood had a taste of besides you. you press your thumb into that delicious buddle of nerves that has your plump hips buckling. moaning and swirling tight circles on that sweet spot. whines leave your mouth as you watch and listen to toji banging up the punching bag, his focus only getting more intense and his sounds getting more heavy, bringing you closer to the edge.
his sweaty fierce frame clouds your mind, he grunts and groans, while you finish, overwhelmingly. your fingers sped up as you near your orgasm, you close your eyes and hear his croaks and imagine it’s him on top of your soft full figure, stuffing you full of his fingers instead and cum. a loud whine leaving your pretty mouth as you come undone.
maybe a little to loud.
“who’s there?” it’s almost as low as a murmur. you gasp and tuck yourself back into the shadows of your room. hidden from his point of view, you think your safe, free from all possibilities of toji finding out just how perverted his chubby little neighbor really is.
you’re wrong.
at first it was just a little bit of small talk, asking for some help on fishing out some keys from a narrow space toji was far to big to reach. he knew of your bubbly body figure, although plump your still smaller in comparison to him.
while retrieving his keys toji stands back behind you and enjoys the view of you. bent over searching for said lost keys, ass out, thighs pressed together, rolls on your plush figure squished. he drinks you up with his eyes, licking his lips and walks closer to you. “found them yet, doll?”
“No,” you huff, “Toji, are you sure you dropped them here?” you glance back to see a closer, almost looming toji right behind you. you feel the heat radiating off him and the ever so creeping shadow over you. he chuckles and reaches a hand in his pocket. you hear rustling and jiggles before he pulls the supposed lost keys from his pocket. “Huh, would you look at that.” he smirks, “i got em’ right here..” your face twists into one of confusion. he’s pressed up against you now, flesh on flesh, his big broad body on your chubby one.
you gasp then whine at the feeling of his already half hard cock on your ass. you shift your gaze up at him and see the hunger in his eyes now. “but you can help me with this aching cock.”
he grinds his dick on your ass and you moan, hands on the counter you were just bent over and watching his hips roll against the fat of your ass. you grind back against him, the feeling making your core grow needier and needier. “eyes forward, hun.” he suddenly has his hand in your hair and one on your lush hip, shoving you down on the counter, manhandling you to position you on your pudgy stomach. you yelp as he swats your ass. you glace back at him in shock, till he growls and thrust his clothed dick into you rougher. his hand in your hair taking control again and forcing your head forward again. “what’d i jus’ say?” he slaps your ass. your thighs start to tremble but your pussy is getting wetter “yeah, like that? is this what you imagined when you’d watch me out back, doll?”
your eyes grow big. he knows. you freeze momentarily till you feel another smack on your ass. “yeah nasty fuckin’ girl. thought i didn’t know? that my little chubby neighbor was a fuckin’ pervert and watched me workout while touching this wet pussy?”
he reaches a hand in your shorts and over your panties. the pads on his finger tips collecting and rubbing your wetness on your clothed clit. you whine and push back against him. “heard you moan’in the other day for me baby and i knew i just had to fuck this nasty pussy.” he presses his fingers on that sweet spot that had your dangling legs jolting. rubbing his fingers up and down your wet cunnie. toji give your clothed cunnie a little pat before he bunches your panties to the side and rubs your wet pussy. he leans down and presses his chest against your back, dragging his thick digits down to your slick entrance and sinks two fingers inside your fat cunt. “gotta stretch you a lil before the real thing babe.”
you whimper at the stretch of his thick fingers inside you. pain but hints of pleasure also. his fingers are bigger than your pudgy ones and reach deeper. he curls them and starts doing a scissor like motion, truly prepping you. spreading your glossy folds and trembling hole. you can feel his hunger in the thrust of his fingers, mean and long strokes on your pussy. your legs shiver and your breath grows heavy with his fingers touching you. the pain subsides now and the pleasure has never felt this good with your own fingers.
his hot breath is on your ear when he says “gonna fuck this tight pussy good ma ” he drags his fingers out of your gushing pussy and straightens his back out again, towering over your bent over frame. he grabs hold your shorts and panties and tugs them down to your ankles. reaching for his hard aching cock from his grey sweats and hiking the pants down till just his cock is out. he runs his already leaking tip on your sloppy cunt, teasing you. dragging the tip up and down your slick folds. you stops at your entrance to thrust his dick in slowly. careful not to hurt you anymore than the stretch of his thick cock does. you whimper, a long throaty one from the stretch of him. he groans as he bottoms out and feels your fat ass pressed against him.
“damn baby, soo fuckin’ tight.” he swatted your ass again. the pain is back, and it’s noticeable, more than it was before. “T-Toji! its’ to much!” you whimper at the stretch of his cock. it was big, throbbing inside you. aching. he leans back down, chest to your back and shoves his fingers in your mouth. “clean up your mess doll n’ maybe i’ll think bout being nice.” you whimper and taste yourself on his fingers. large bulky fingers inside your mouth while your fat pussy is being stuffed full. it was just what you wanted.
at first he grinds his dick inside you, too needy to stay still, but still sweet and doesn’t ravage you completely. you whimper around his fingers and he groans, straightening his back out again, taking his fingers out your mouth and leaning his hands on either side of your head. watching your plump body squish then relax while he grinds into you. “sooo fuckin sexy ma.” he groans, bringing one hand to your side and groping your rolls and caressing your softness. “fucck.” he says as he pulls a few inches out and plunges it back into you, sharply. “Ah-!” your yelp turns into moans at the sudden change in pace. “Sorry doll, i jus’…” he trials as he continues to pull just a few inches out.
“ i can’t wait any longer. ” toji says, then slams his hips into you. “t-toji!” you whine, the girth of him makes you tremble. he’s soo thick, thrusting in and out of you at a steady fast pace. he was starved, not just hungry now. your face is smushed onto the counter now, he wasn’t gentle, he was rough. like he had been waiting for this moment. to be inside you. to ruin you. and that’s exactly what he was going to do.
his thick cock hammers into you at a fast rough pace. cock disappearing in and out of your fat pussy. you whimper and let out such sweet moans that only fuel the fire inside him. he grabs hold of your wrist, bringing them down to your sides and uses them to fuck into you harder. “Ah! to-jiii-!” your back arches at the change of deepness. feeling him hit all your sweet spots, not one is untouched by this fat cock. veins and the curve of him making sure to hit all your bundles of nerves inside.
“yeah slut take it, fucckk-“ you clench around him and he hisses. “Tryna’ break me ma?” he challenges, shifting his hips and angling his dick to hit your cervix. you squeal at the raw sensation of him deep inside you. sounds of him pounding into you fill the room. his pelvis smacking your fat plush ass as he brings a hand down on your ass. spanking you as you start to tremble at how good he fucks your fat pussy. “Cause i’m not one for losin’, doll.” he grunts, your chubby pussy squeezes around him, making such sloppy noises. “tight fuckin pussy, milkin’ me huh?”
this is excatly what you thought of when touching yourself by the window. toji, in his big jagged ways, dicking you down like you needed it. rough and mean with it. the air in the room grew thick and heavy. toji eyes trail all over your body while fucking you. the way your rolls tremble from his mean cock. the way your ass jiggles with every thrust. he licked his lips, like an animal enjoying its prey.
your brain turns into mush, gripping the counter below you till your knuckles turned white from the intense pleasure. your soaked around him, dripping into his cock. he grabs your hips hard enough to bruise, his hips snapping into yours. pounding, balls deep into you. you feel yourself edge closer to your release and clench around him. “m’ close-fuck!” you whimper and whine. “fuck- that’s it ma, cum for me, cmon.” his pace doesn’t falter, he keeps that same rough pounding into your fat pussy going. fucked raw and getting wrecked by his huge cock.
your core clenches and grows tighter till you finally snap and cum on his cock. “F-fuckkk! toji-!” you squeal, your fat pussy creams on his cock and your thighs tremble. sloppy chubby pussy so tight around him, he grows closer to cumming himself. cock twitching inside of you, buried deep inside your chubby cunnie. “oh shit- ima’ cum baby, fuck-” he groans as his hot seed spills into you. cummming so deep, making you feel warm inside.
you both stay in that position, recollecting your breaths for a moment till you say, “Ya didn’t have to lie, ya know?”
“I know” he smirks and smacks your ass. “but what’s the fun in just askin’?”
Uzui Tengen slapping your chubby thighs or butt to get your attention or just doing it in passing as a form of greeting. He does not make a single sound and you don't know he's there until you feel the sting of his slap and his boisterous laughter ringing in your ear as you yelp and scream at him
Pierced through the heart, but never killed || Ghost x Fat!Reader ||
One shot (9.8k)
MoodboardAo3 link.
Simon pays the price of his recklessness in the field, but his reward may be worth the pain.
CW: reader described as fat/plus-sized/curvier/chubby, Patient/PT dynamics, Perv!Simon, reader is a nervous talker, mature language and content, suggestive language and content, graphic depictions of wounds + violence, rehab shit, military shit, protective!Simon, possessiveness, dom/sub dynamics, size kink, hand kink, praise kink, slight knife play (blink and you’ll miss it), unprotected piv, degradation, lots of cum, oral (fem!receiving), breeding kink, scar worship(?), body worship, clearly 18+ MDNI.
He really fucking didn’t want to be there.
There was no one else to blame for his current situation other than himself. Seating in the sterile waiting room of the health services unit of undisclosed location military base, with his fucked up hand wrapped and immobilized in a splint. Simon was bored out of his mind.
He was waiting for the medical staff to finish their briefing, they were starting him on physical therapy for the foreseeable future. It turns out that all the ligaments and tissue surrounding the carpometacarpal and metacarpophalangeal joints were more complex to heal than one might think. If only he'd known that before using his hand as a shield against a machete.
At least he could take comfort in remembering said weapon buried in the skull of the big Austrian fucker that thought it was a good idea to wear a dirty rag for a mask and come at him with a blade in close quarters, the imbecile.
“Lieutenant. They’re ready for you.” Finally, He stands up and silently follows the nurse who’d accompanied him since they removed the stitches a couple of hours before. She was an older woman, with a stern face and of few words, who hadn’t tried to chat him up while you worked on him, and at first, he thought it was because of his mask, but after a while he noticed she was short with everyone else.
The facility itself had no natural light, only a bright fluorescent-lighted ceiling with sad white and beige painted walls, it was dull and depressing. As they approached the rehab unit, he noticed you, all warm and soft in contrast with the environment.
A fat birdie in baby blue scrubs that accentuate all your attractive curves, with a beautiful welcoming smile adorning your round, pretty face. Like a sucker punch, It made his stomach clench, and other parts of him stir in interest.
Like the nurse, you didn't seem to be phased by his typically intimidating looks; it wasn't that he was actively trying to scare you either, it was just how he came across, plus the black balaclava made him look like a double-edged sword, he was aware of it.
“This is your assigned Physio for the time being, she’ll be in charge of your care from now on… I'll leave you to it.” And with that, the nurse was gone.
You seemed too fucking sweet to be in this place (he’d been in military hospitals that were as hospitable as a Man U pub in East London), and that thought is confirmed the second you open your mouth.
You welcome him like he’d just landed in a beachside resort, he'd never been to one, nor was he opposed to visiting. But now that he thought about it, he could perfectly picture you in a skimpy bikini, lying under the sun, with those tempting lips sipping on a straw from a coconut, that's suddenly turning into a phallic shape-
“Lieutenant, could you please follow me this way?” Your voice -strangely familiar- cuts off his naughty thoughts. Something itches in the back of his mind, like he knows you, maybe from another base, but surely he would remember. He could never forget a face like yours.
“Just Ghost.” He remarks and follows you. Oh boy, does he follow you, like a Malinois taking orders. The moment he gets a good look at your behind, he's sold; that ass and those thighs moving in front of him are his personal version of being hypnotized. Luring him, drawing him in.
Perhaps being here won’t be so bad after all.
He’d done PT before, for his leg and lower back. Yet he’d grown accustomed to the constant ache. The shot of electricity that sometimes ran down his legs, the fatigue that bullied his lumbar spine after an adventurous mission with the 141. He certainly didn’t expect that a few sessions hooked to the TENS machine would magically heal all the shit he’d put his body through during his years in active duty.
Yeah, he’d done PT before…
But it was nothing compared to this, never like this.
Starting with the pretty thing massaging, rubbing, and pampering him. Talking his ears off about everything that had to do with his injury, what the treatment would consist of, what the next couple of weeks were going to be like, what stage of cicatrization he was on, etc.
It felt like heaven, having a pretty lass all over him. Until you flexed his wrist and sharp pain shot like fire from his fingers to his elbow.
You apologize, even though it's not your fault, and try to make light conversation in an attempt to distract him. His answers are short and not as friendly as yours, not because he doesn’t want to be, but because he’s concentrating on blocking out the pain, like he’d been trained to do, like he was used to.
Your breast constantly squeezing against the table the two of you were seating on certainly helped.
The softness of your hands on his scarred one was fuel for his filthy imagination. Your sweet words of encouragement soothed him every time he grew frustrated, and the delicious scent of your perfume made his mouth water, tickling something nostalgic in his subconscious.
And then he started to forget about the pain.
Two weeks go by faster than Simon expected. He was getting better, it was less painful to close his fist, but his strength and fine motor skills were still fucked. He was no longer bored, though, he was using his free time as an excuse to become ambidextrous.
The image of your soft, delicate hands holding him. The contrast of his scarred, calloused skin against yours, how you studied every uncovered inch with such attentiveness, it fed the thing inside him that wanted to sink its teeth on your neck and lock the fuck in.
Wanking off twice a day to thoughts of his PT was turning out to be quite the exercise. His brain had also decided it was a good time to let his breeding kink resurface -It hadn’t gone anywhere to begin with- because his muse had the perfect body for it. When he allowed his thoughts to wander down that path, he would come so fast it left him dizzy.
And you were so witty, and smart, and so goddamn sweet it satiated his sweet tooth, so attentive it filled his chest with a feeling he couldn’t name. Yet, you were a feisty little thing, a kitty with its claws sheathed. You would banter with him about football, throw bad jokes in reply to his, and scowl at him when he tried to cheat during his exercises.
Yeah, he was feeling better than ever.
But then came Soap, giving him shit left and right about wanting to visit Simon at one of his sessions.
Johnny had shown up -uninvited and unauthorized- just in time to see the plump birdie remove the hardened layers of paraffin wax from his hand and start stretching his strained tendons. The tender touch of your cool hands on his hot one and the sudden presence of the Sergeant in his peripheral view made him flinch slightly. It was a small movement, but enough for Johnny to take notice, the bastard smirked, amused, before locking eyes on you, then he lit up like a dog with a bone.
The thing was, Johnny was also into bigger women. Johnny was into anything with a hole. They’d shared porn links of BBW getting pounded once or twice before (BBW getting pounded and bred to be more specific), so Simon knew exactly the kind of nasty shit lurking on the Scots mind. Chances were Simon had already thought of it.
The second Soap arrived, Simon knew he had to lay down limits. No looking, no touching. Easily communicated with a grunt and a subtle shake of his head. Turns out Johnny boy read that as an invitation, and not as the warning that it was.
Soap had then proceeded to grab a chair, and sat backward on it while facing them in the small table that had become yours since day one. And then the mutt-with-a-death-wish introduced himself and started to flirt with you. Right in front of Simon.
You were oblivious, laughed at Soap's usual shenanigans and threw cheeky comebacks here and there, keeping the conversation light and as professional as you possibly could while dealing with Johnny.
“Poor Bonnie, ye probably exhausted after dealing with mean ol’ Lieutenant.”
“You’re wrong there, Sergeant. Ghost is one of the best patients I’ve ever had… You’d be surprised at how rude patients can be sometimes.” That last part was said quietly, and by the expression on your face, you immediately regretted saying it. Simon wanted to delve more into that, but Soap kept talking and changed the subject.
“Bet ya wish it was me in yer care, we’d have a fun time every time…”
When it was over, after the nurse kicked Soap out of the rehab unit for his boisterous behavior, Simon grabbed him by the scruff (with his good hand, he wasn’t going to fuck up your progress) and shoved him into a wall, he made it clear to Soap that he was not to do that again. “A’ight, no messin’ with yer doc, got it, now let off Lt.” He giggled in between forced breaths. Only then did Simon lift his forearm from his throat.
The next day, he decided to go in earlier to apologize for his squad mate's behavior. What he stumbled upon, was an example of your accidental confession.
“I’ve said it a hundred times already, I can’t fucking do it! What’s the fucking point? I’m just wasting my time.” He heard the pitchy shouts before he saw them. A rookie soldier in crutches, towering over you, face red and nostrils flaring. While you were holding onto the handrail of the parallel bars like a lifeline.
“Let's just give it a try, this is the last exercise for the day, alright?” Even dealing with the man's tantrum, you kept your polite demeanor.
“I don’t fucking want to, I’m done.” The soldier started to maneuver his way around the bars, and you followed him, still unaware of Simon's presence. The nurse was arranging some papers on the other side of the room, watching everything unfold silently.
“Sir, we’re not done. I’m here to help you recover, there’s no need to be uncivil.” This time your words were stern, your face frowning in determination. Simon thought it was cute.
“There is no need to be a pain in the ass either, fat bitch!”
And that was enough of that, with a few long steps Simon was in the young man's space, looking down at him and sizing him up, ”Quiet.” One word was enough, the thin veil of anger that disguised the soldiers' fears vanished from his face. “Stop your whingin’. Apologise and sod off.”
“Apologies, ma’am.” the soldier said over his shoulder grudgingly. You acknowledged it with a single nod.
“Not good enough, look at her and say it like you mean it, boy.” Simon ground his molars and clenched his fist to stop himself from doing the violent things he wanted to.
The soldier turned clumsily on his crutches and muttered another apology, slightly more sincere than the first. Simon took a step aside to let him go, he didn’t give a fuck about pulling rank over the lad, he just wanted him gone and away from you. He would deal with it more thoroughly later. He was sure Johnny would enjoy giving him a hand.
Once the shell shock case walked out, Simon approached you. Even though you didn't seem upset from the confrontation, he noticed that your chest was heaving as you took deep breaths to calm down. You were staring at the floor, eyes a little hazy, with a hand resting on your soft belly, working on controlling your breathing.
“Y’alright?”
“No, yeah-” You paused and tilted your head up at him. “Yes, yes. I’m fine.” Your cheeks seemed flushed. Simon assumed it was anger, yet he found you deliriously hot.
Raising the hand he was jealous of from your navel, you comically looked at your naked wrist, “Well, look at the time, right on the dot,” He was not, it was still early. “I’ll just… grab a cup of tea, and then we’ll begin our session. I’ll be back in a moment.” You dashed away, leaving him with the nurse, who now looked at him with her arms folded, one brown raised and lips pursed, clearly not amused by the situation.
After that day, things were… different. Since you were usually the one to start most of the conversations, your frequent chats became strained. In fact, you hardly spoke to him anymore (well, not really, he just got used to your constant yapping), only to give him instructions.
He found that he missed it, your sweet attention talks, what he normally detested in others, he found charming in you. Not having that made him feel uneasy. Not only that, but he desperately wanted to return the gesture. He knew that his usual nonchalant and sarcastic tone wasn’t gonna cut it this time.
You made every effort to avoid meeting his gaze, as it would only become more intense as it sought to meet yours constantly. Because if he couldn’t have your voice, he’d settle for your pretty eyes. He was aware that he was behaving a little insane -like a hunter stalking its prey- but he was unable and unwilling to control himself.
One day, you caught him by surprise and set a gun on the table. A Clock 17, unloaded and with an empty mag, a cleaning kit laying beside it. You told him to get into it and put those fingers to work, then you pulled a .19 from the pocket of your thigh, sat beside him instead of your usual spot on the other side of the table, and started to disassemble it with an efficiency that rivaled Kyle’s. He wanted to fuck you right then and there.
He grunted while appreciating you with a warm smile hidden by his mask, but still evident in his eyes. You turned at the sound, finally meeting his gaze, you gifted him a bright smile that blinded him and made him feel a little hazy.
He blinked slowly, pulled himself together and started to go through the motions of a deep cleaning for a Clock. He could do it in his sleep, blindfolded, and hog tied. Only to find he was a sloppy mess that somehow could not even pull the slide from the frame without struggling with the catch levers.
“You got it, Lt. Slowly but surely.” You encourage him. He carried on, watching your soft hands handle the weapon felt like you somehow were touching an extension of him. Another thought to not share with his therapist.
As he got lost in his thoughts, Simon still had that nagging feeling in the back of his mind. You felt so familiar, there was just something nostalgic about the way he felt about you. Like he was longing for something he couldn’t quite remember, a word on the tip of his tongue. Or maybe he was getting too attached, too fast.
A few weeks after the incident with the rookie, he graduated from the rehab unit and was back at the gym (still with some limitations) and other duties, but still you insisted on going down to the shooting range with him. You wanted to monitor his improvement during work activities, which in his case meant shooting big guns, reloading them, and throwing sharp knives. He’d not been given the all-clear on hand-to-hand combat yet.
It was a mistake. Simon knew it the second you left the comfort of the indoors behind. You were out of your usual scrubs and instead were dressed up in a pair of cargo pants, tan army boots and a black compression shirt that stretched to sinful limits around your shape. It was torture. All the men watching you parade through the base made his hands itch to pull eyes out of sockets.
And then you were pampering him again, carefully massaging and moving his hand before he started shooting at a target. Standing close to him to better assess his hold on the guns, you called him out when he misplaced a shaky finger to avoid discomfort, reminding him that it was important to practice without any compensatory movements, so he didn’t develop bad habits.
You were all over him again, all your attention was on him, on the way he stood, on how he unloaded and reloaded, on how he shot round after round. Not even Price and Gaz introducing themselves diverted your focus. It was elating, he felt intoxicated.
By the time you were done for the day, Simon escorted you back to the barracks sporting a semi. Then he practically jogged to his room and proceeded to jerk off like a madman with the smell of gunpowder and your scent still on his nose. Fantasizing about coming inside you, filling you so full of him, claiming your little holes and-
He was hanging on to his self-control by the skin of his teeth, one little nudge away from losing it.
It should've been no surprise to him that in the end, it was knives that did it.
Oh, the irony.
You were alone, standing in the small warehouse next to the shooting range. It was poorly lit, equipped with big wooden circles with targets painted on them, a marksman table bolted to the floor and a utility wall full of all sorts of sharp paraphernalia.
You were closer than the day before, again in your new uniform, looking hot and smelling as tempting as ever. Meanwhile, he was fucking up all his throws.
You’d been at it for half an hour now, and he was getting more frustrated by the second.
“You are holding them too tightly, you have your full strength back now. The goal is to practice micro-dosing it when it requires gentle movements. Let me show you.” You said while studying his form.
You stand on your tiptoes to reach his injured hand that's been holding the KaBar knife over his shoulder in a throwing stance. Your soft front brushes against his side. Your fingertips lightly touch his tense fingers gripping the handle, and then your voice is right by his shoulder, whispering dirty-sounding words of encouragement.
“Relax a little bit, yes. Just like that.” Your breath caresses his skin, and he suppresses a shudder, “Yes, yes, perfect! Now, do it!” He throws the knife.
Neither one of you sees it land with a thud in the center of the target.
He’s on you before he can stop himself.
With his hands wrapped around your throat, he pulls you impossibly closer to him, you gasp and instinctively grabs his wrists. His thumbs on your soft jaw tilt your head to make you look into his eyes. You moan, an involuntary noise that escapes your throat. The sound travels like high voltage through his blood to his groin.
“Lieutenant…” you whisper, voice cracking with fear and a hesitated question.
Simon growls, slightly tilting his hips against your belly, wanting you to feel his hard cock, his need.
"Always on top of me, touching me, tempting me." He turns slowly, keeping you in his grasp, and you move with him. "You have no idea how long I’ve been stopping myself from putting my hands on you," two steps forward, and he traps you against the old marksman table. Left speechless, your hands fall to his hard chest. Not punching him away, he notes.
His hands travel from your throat down to your hip, gentle but heavy petting your curves, He leans close and nudges your cheek with his clothed one. Your breathing becomes more labored by the second. "So sweet, yet so oblivious to the effect you have on me." He whispers next to your ear as he tightens his grip on you, his fingers digging on your softness, "But I can show you."
Simon picks you up, you shriek and throw your arms around his neck as he sits you on the table. He swipes one hand behind you, clearing the table of the clutter that falls loudly to the floor, purposely missing a small knife, he grabs it and brings it up to point at you with the sharp tip, “You’re gonna owe me a mask after this.”
He lifts the bottom of his balaclava and cuts a piece off to reveal his mouth. Pink and plump lips split by a long scar all the way from his nose, down his cupid's bow, to just above his dimpled chin.
He doesn’t give you time to appreciate the new exposed piece of him, because Simon leans down to claim your mouth in a passionate, claiming kiss. His eyes flutter close as you share the warmth of his body, and the truth of his confession. Your hands slid to his arms, gripping his biceps as you pulled him closer, your tongue tentatively meeting his in an unspoken invitation for more.
The kiss grows more urgent, his tongue diving into your mouth as he tasted the sweetness of your submission. His hands roaming your body, familiarizing themselves with every curve, fingers tracing circles underneath your breast and on the softness of your waist. Your own hands started to explore him, your nails digging into the skin of his exposed arms as you traced his muscles like you’re memorizing him.
Pulling away from your mouth, he nuzzled his masked nose against the apple of your chubby cheek, "If you don’t want this, now is the time to say so, before I lose myself." He was giving you a way out of his possessive grasp before it was too late, before he sunk his sharp teeth into your juicy peach and decided he was not going to let go.
“I want you!” Your voice was a desperate whimper at the mere notion of stopping. You want it, all he would give you, you’ll take it. Your hands grabbed his shirt and tugged, trying to take it off, you managed to untuck it from his pants before he grunted and grabbed both your wrists in each of his hands to stop you.
He kissed you once more and bit your lower lip, making you gasp, He took the opportunity and licked inside your mouth. “Tongue.” he barked, you obeyed and shyly stuck your tongue out. Simon licked, sucked, and bit again. It was utterly erotic.
He pulled away from you and made quick work of undressing, took off his shirt, and then undid the button and zipper of his cargo pants. He was so big, all over. Packed with muscles and a layer of fat that made it seem like he was naturally bulletproof, even when you knew that wasn’t the case. The scars he wore were a crude and raw testament of the truth.
He moved close again, reached for your knees, his thumbs pressing into the sensitive flesh behind them, causing your legs to fall apart slightly. You watched, transfixed, as his hands moved closer and closer to the apex of your thighs. The teasing was agonizing, but you didn't want it any other way. Instead, you took a deep breath, your chest rising and falling with each stroke of his hand.
With a predatory grace, Simon leaned over you, his eyes never leaving yours as his hand traveled up your leg over the thick fabric that separated you from his touch. You felt the anticipation coil tighter in your stomach, a knot of excitement and fear that made your breath hitch. He paused just before he reached your center, his fingers tracing your sensitive inner thigh. You could feel the heat of his body, his scent mingling with sweat and arousal.
"You know," he said, his voice a low growl, "I’ve been dying to know what you taste like." His thumb hovered just above the fabric over your pussy, the pressure of it making you tremble. "Do you want to help me with that, baby?"
Your eyes widened, and you felt a rush of warmth spread through your body. You had never felt so exposed, so vulnerable while still being clothed. But there was something about the way he talked to you, the way he looked at you, that made it feel so sexy. "Yes, Ghost," you murmured, the words slipping out before you could stop them. "I want that."
The Lieutenant's smile grew, his teeth a dangerous sight in contrast with the dark fabric of his mask. "Good," he said, his thumb finally sliding over the seam at your center.
With swift motions, he kneeled down to unbutton and yank your camo pants and panties off, making your hips rise and fall involuntarily, revealing your fuzzy, glistening wet pussy. The coolness of the air made you gasp, and you felt a thrill as his gaze locked on your most sensitive parts. Simon leaned in closer, his nose just inches from your sex. He took a deep breath, his nostrils flaring as he inhaled your scent, his eyes closing in pleasure.
The sound of his deep inhale made your stomach flip. You felt a strange sense of power, knowing you could elicit such a reaction from him. His eyes snapped open, and you saw the hunger in them, the raw need that was no longer hidden behind the veil of indifference he usually donned. "Mm," he murmured, his voice thick with lust. "You smell so good, baby."
Without another word, Simon leaned in and placed a gentle kiss on your fat mons, his stubbled cheek brushing against the naked skin of your inner thigh. Your hips jerked upward at the contact, a gasp escaping your lips, the intimacy of the moment almost too much to handle. He kissed you again, this time a bit closer to your clit, the stubble grazing your skin again, sending sparks of pleasure through your core.
"Your pussy is so perfect," he murmured, his breath hot against your skin. "So soft and plump. Just like a ripe little peach." He placed a hand on your hip, holding you in place as he continued to shower you with wet kisses, each one closer to the center of your desire. It was so bewildering, the way he was rough and gentle with you at the same time.
Your breathing grew ragged, your body trembling with each tender touch. Then, without warning, you felt wetness on your clit as Simon leaned in and let a bead of saliva fall from his mouth onto your sensitive flesh. You gasped at the sensation, the coolness of his spit mixing with the warmth of your slick. His tongue followed the droplet, tracing a wet line up the center of your pussy, and you felt a bolt of electricity shoot through your core.
"Ghost," you whimpered, your hands clutching the edges of the table.
"Shh," Simon soothed, his eyes never leaving yours. "Just relax, sweetheart. I got you." He slid his middle finger along your slit, the tip of it teasing your swollen clit before delving into your wetness. Your back arched as he pushed the digit into you, his knuckles grazing your sensitive skin. "So tight," he murmured, his voice filled with fascination. "So perfect."
He began to pump his finger in and out, the motion sending waves of pleasure crashing over you. You felt so full, so overwhelmed, still you craved more. You could feel your body responding in ways you didn't know were possible, so out of control, it was like an outer body experience. He had barely touched you.
“This was all I could think about every time you were holding my hand,” Simon said as he watched, transfixed, at the way his finger moved. “Making me all better just so I could repay you like this.” Your pussy clenched around his finger, begging for more, and you couldn't help but rock your hips in time with his movements.
"Tell me how it feels," he murmured, his voice a firm command that made your body quiver. "Does this pussy like when I play with her?"
Your cheeks flushed, but you couldn't lie. "It feels… amazing," you admitted, your voice shaking. "I've never felt like this before." You leaned back on your elbows and let your head drop back.
Simon's eyes lit up with excitement. "Good," he said, his voice a low rumble. "I want you to feel good, baby. I want you to know just how much I appreciate you." His thumb began to circle your clit as he continued to fuck you with his finger, the dual sensation making you moan even louder. "But we're just getting started. There's so much I want to do to you, so much more I want to do with you."
He stood up and with his free hand grabbed you by the nape of your neck to pull you upright, “Show me your tits sweetheart, take that fucking shirt off.” You hesitated for two heart beats and he amped the pace of his thrusts, “Take. It. All. Off.”
You swallowed the nervous knot that formed in your throat and started to strip off your shirt. Once you were covered in only your sports bra, you took a deep inhale and straightened your back, reassuring yourself that there was nothing to be self-conscious about.
“You gonna make me repeat myself?” His tone dropped lower, his words a playful threat. You shook your head and off went your bra. As soon as you were bare before him, Simon ceased to move, his fingers still inside you, you even thought he stopped breathing for a moment. A nasty, insecure thought scurried across your mind, but it got squashed by the way Simon was looking at you like he wanted to devour you.
Then he snapped.
He leaned closer to you, his breath hot against your neck. You felt his hand move from your neck down to your chest, his calloused thumb grazing your nipple before he took it into his mouth. It was overwhelming, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin as he began to suckle. The sensation of his mouth on you, combined with the new relentless rhythm of his finger inside your pussy, left you on the brink of a form of pleasure you had never experienced before.
With each second that passed, your breathing grew more erratic, your body moving in time with his. The sound of his mouth on your skin blended with your moans and the distant sound of the shooting range. The warm flush on your face was a stark contrast to the coolness of his saliva as it dripped down your chest. His free hand moved to your other breast, kneading and rolling the nipple between his thumb and forefinger. It was a symphony of sensations, each one building upon the last until you felt like a supernova.
"Do you like that, baby?" he murmured against your skin, his teeth scraping your nipple before capturing it between his teeth. "Do you like how I make you feel?"
Your breath hitched, and you nodded frantically. "Y-yes, Simon." you managed to gasp out, your voice tight with need.
Simon's smile grew wider when he finally heard you say his name, and he leaned closer, his face inches from your chest. He took your other nipple into his mouth, his tongue swirling around the tight peak as he began to thrust his finger faster, your pussy clenching around his digits with each vicious stroke. He swapped back and forth, his mouth moving from one breast to the other, never letting the sensation ease.
As he sucked, he let out a low groan, the vibration sending waves of pleasure through your body. His hand moved to your other breast, giving it a playful slap that made you jump. You felt so aroused, so desired, the thought of someone walking in any moment made you forget about any insecurity, and you couldn't deny the thrill of it. It felt like he owned you, and you were his to do with as he pleased.
With a sudden, almost feral growl, Simon pulled away from your breasts, his eyes locking onto yours. He leaned back slightly, taking in the sight of your finger fucked pussy, his hand still working your clit. Then, with a slow, deliberate motion, he leaned between your legs, his cheek brushing the tender skin of your inner thighs. You felt a strange mix of fear and excitement as you watched him, his massive frame casting a shadow over your most intimate parts.
"Fuck." he murmured, his breath hot against your skin. And then he lowered his mouth to your pussy again, his tongue sliding through your folds with the ease of a hot knife through butter. The sensation was overwhelming, the combined feeling of his rough stubble and the warmth of his mouth sending you spiraling into a whirlwind of pleasure. You felt the muscles in your stomach tighten, your legs trembling as you tried to hold herself still, and your throat tightened, trying to not let out a sound.
Surprising you with his strength, He lifted one of your legs and placed it over his broad shoulder, his hand wrapping around your thigh to keep you in place. The new angle made you feel even more exposed, your pussy open and vulnerable to his every whim. He took full advantage of the position, his tongue delving deeper, reaching places you didn't even know existed.
Your moans escaped you and grew louder, filling the closed space of the warehouse as the cool air caressed your heated skin. The fabric of his mask kissed your bare thighs as he moved between your legs, it tickled your sensitive flesh as he licked and sucked. You could feel his hot breath against your clit, the sensation making your hips buck involuntarily, nobody had eaten you out like this before, with such desperation.
The Lieutenant's tongue was playing your body like a fine instrument, he knew just how to touch you, just how to make you whimper and beg for more. Each flick of his tongue was a sweet torture, bringing you closer and closer to the edge, without pushing you over just yet.
Your eyes squeezed shut, your teeth digging into your bottom lip as you tried to hold back the scream building in your chest. You could feel the tension coil tighter and tighter, your body hanging on the precipice of something you had only ever read about in your stash of romance novels.
"Simon," you gasped, voice a needy whisper. "I'm… I'm going to… "
Your words dissolved into a whimper as you felt the heat inside you build. Simon's tongue had become relentless, swirling and flicking against your clit with a skill that seemed to defy his brusque exterior.
His teeth grazed your sensitive flesh, the slight edge of pain mixed with pleasure, sent you spiraling higher and higher. You could feel your pussy tightening around his finger, the muscles in your soft stomach seizing up, your body shaking with the strain.
Your obscene sounds grew louder, filling the air with the sweet symphony of your impending orgasm. Simon's eyes remained locked on you, the intensity in them unwavering as he felt your body tense beneath his touch. He knew you were close, and the thought of making you come sent a jolt of excitement through his own body.
"That's it," he murmured in between licks, his voice thick with lust. "Let go for me."
He moved one of his hands to spread your pussy lips apart even farther, using his thumb and forefinger, he kept the speed of his tongue while doing it. You could feel the orgasm growing, a rush of bliss that stole the breath from your lungs. His mouth was a brand of fire on your sensitive flesh, and you couldn't hold back any longer. You let out a keening cry, your body arching off the table as you came, your pussy convulsing around his fingers. The waves of ecstasy crashed over you, leaving you trembling and gasping for breath.
Simon didn't stop. He continued to lick and suck, your juices coating his lips and chin as he drank in your sweetness, dampening the fabric of his balaclava. The feeling of his tongue on your clit was exquisite torture, each stroke sending another wave of pleasure through you. You could feel the muscles in your pelvis spasm, your legs quivering as you rode out your climax.
When the last tremor of your release faded, Simon pulled back, a smug smile on his face. His cheeks and lips were wet with your cum, a glistening trail of saliva connecting his mouth to your pussy. He licked his lips, savoring the taste. "Mmm," he murmured, his dark eyes never leaving yours. "You taste so delicious, baby."|
You felt a flush of embarrassment as you looked away, your pussy still spasming slightly with aftershocks of pleasure. Reality started to creep in on your lust-addled mind. But the way he talked to you, the way he looked at you, it distracted, you felt beautiful, desirable. He was overwhelming. "Si…" you whispered, unsure of what to say.
Simon chuckled, a satisfied sound that resonated in your very bones. "Look at me, baby," he said, his voice a gentle command that you couldn't ignore. You lowered your eyes, meeting his gaze. "You're so beautiful when you cum," he murmured, his thumb still rubbing lazy circles around your clit. "Your whole body just lights up."
He bent over you, the weight of his massive frame pressing you into the table. You could feel the heat of his chest, the dampness of his skin against your own. His breath tingled your skin as he leaned in, his breath hot on your face. "You liked that, didn't you?" he whispered, his eyes searching for approval in yours, his hand still playing with your pussy.
You nodded, unable to find the words to describe the wave of emotions that surged through you. You could feel your heart racing, your chest heaving with each ragged breath you took. He pinched your clit, the sensation sending aftershocks of pleasure through your body, overstimulating you.
"Good," Simon murmured, his eyes darkening with satisfaction. "Now, give me that sweet mouth."
He shifted his weight, his powerful muscles flexing as he moved to lie on top of you. His body was like a blanket of warmth and security, his weight pressing you into the table. You felt your heart race even faster, your eyes never leaving his as he lowered his face to yours. The edges of his mask and his scruff brushed against your cheek, the scent of him -musky and manly- surrounding you.
His lips found yours in a kiss that was consuming and possessive. You felt his tongue slip into your mouth, tasting, exploring, as if he couldn't get enough of you. Your body responded instinctively, your arms wrapping around his neck to pull him closer, your legs spreading to accommodate his thick thigh between them. The strokes of his tongue slowly became more forceful, and you could feel his hard cock pressing against your soft stomach.
The kiss grew sloppier, wetter, as you both succumbed to the overwhelming passion that had been building for a long time. His spit mingled with yours, the salty taste of flesh mixed with faint remnants of nicotine and the lingering sweetness of your juices. It was messy, raw, and utterly consuming. The stubble on his chin scraped against your skin, leaving a trail of heat in its wake.
With one hand on your jaw and the other still buried between your legs, a sudden primal need took over Simon, he pulled back and spit into your mouth without warning. It was an act of dominance, a claim that left no doubt of his intentions. The saliva slipped over your tongue, warm and slightly bitter. Your eyes went wide with shock, but you didn't pull away. Instead, you swallowed, the gesture feeling almost like a declaration of acceptance.
"Mm, such a good girl," he murmured, his hand sliding up your body, over your curves, to rest on your hip. His thumb stroked your skin, his eyes never leaving yours, feeding all the eye contact you had starved him off. "You're so soft, so precious. Yet I could crush you with my bare hands if I wanted to."
You felt said massive hand grab your waist, his fingers spread wide and sinking into your love-handles as flesh spilled out from between them. He was so much larger than you, his body a testament of his strength and power. You felt like a mere slip of a thing in comparison, it sent a thrill of euphoria through you.
"Nearly became a lefty, and not because of your little exercises, love. I had to jerk off every time I left you." Your eyes went wide, and you felt your cheeks flush. The feeling of being so fervently desired by him was electrifying.
"Do you want to see my cock?" he tilted his head slightly, it was almost comical, but his deep and gravelly voice rumbled over you.
You had seen a few before, nothing bad but nothing memorable either. The thought of seeing Simon Riley's cock was dizzying. "Y-yes," you stammered, your voice barely above a whisper.
With a predatory grace that defied his size, Simon stood up, his towering form casting a shadow over you. He hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his cargos and boxers, and pulled them both down with a swift move, revealing his thick, muscular thighs and the massive cock that jutted out from between them.
It was huge, the size of which you had only ever read about in books and seen in the most exaggerated of porn, but still so pretty. The sight of it made you gulp, your eyes widening with anticipation and excitement. You could study it and write prose about it if given the time.
"Look at it," he said, his voice filled with pride as he took his cock in his scarred hand and stroked it slowly. The skin was velvety and pink, the veins standing out in stark contrast against his pale flesh. "This is me, baby. This is your man."
You couldn't help but stare, your eyes drawn to the thick, pulsing length of him. His pubic hair was a wild blonde thicket, a stark contrast to the rest of his body, which was mostly hairless. His balls were massive, heavy, and full, hanging low with desire. He cupped them in his other hand, rolling them gently, the motion causing his cock to bob and sway. "See how big they are?" he asked, his voice a low purr. "These are just for you."
Your eyes flicked up to meet his for a second as you nodded, only to drop back down to his movement, feeling too overwhelmed to find words. He was so imposing, so commanding, and you were at his mercy. "They're huge," you murmured, your voice barely a whisper.
With a wicked smile, Simon leaned back over you, his cock still in hand. "You make me feel things I thought I never would," he said, his voice a low growl. "Can you believe that?" He began to stroke himself more vigorously, the sound of his hand moving up and down his shaft a wet, slick sound that echoed through the air. "Lust, for one. Possessive, for another. Just for you."
Your eyes remained glued to his cock as he spoke, the size of it making you feel intimidated and incredibly turned on. You had never seen anything so brutally masculine. You swallowed hard, your mouth feeling dry as you imagined what it would feel like inside it.
"Tell me, baby," Simon rumbled, his hand moving faster along his shaft. "Do you want to know how it feels to have me inside you?" he asked like he could read your thoughts.
You nodded frantically, the words trapped in your throat. Your pupils were blown wide with desire as you watched him stroke the pre-cum beading at the tip of his cock. You were craving the feeling of being filled by him.
"Good girl," Simon praised, one hand moving to squeeze the base of his shaft and the other grabbing your thigh once more, his cock hovering just above your pussy. "Now, let's put those pretty feet of yours over my shoulder," he said, his tone a gentle command.
You complied, your legs shaking with a mix of excitement and nerves as he lifted your hips off the table and moved you closer to the edge. He positioned you so that your ankles rested on his broad shoulders, your pussy at his mercy, your soft belly and breast offered like a banquet to indulge his appetite. The buzz of anticipation of what was to come making you squirm beneath him, it was almost unbearable.
With a wicked grin, Simon began to drag the tip of his massive cock over your slit, teasing your clit with every pass. It was exquisite, the slickness of his pre-cum combining with your own wetness created a deliciously slippery path. You watched as he worked himself over you, his muscles tensing and releasing with each stroke, his hand moving with the determination of a man who knew exactly what he wanted.
Your breath caught in your throat as he guided the full length of his shaft over your core, the sheer size of him making you feel small and unbearably empty. It was so different from when he used his hands and mouth, so much more intimate, it had your entire body quivering. You could feel the head of his cock nudge against your opening, the bluntness of it hinting at the pleasure to come.
"Look at that," Simon murmured, his voice low and filled with fascination. "Look how eager you are for my cock." He leaned down, his mask brushing against your cheek as he whispered in your ear. "You're going to be so tight… So tight around me."
Your breath hitched, your eyes still glued to the sight before you. The tip of his cock was now perfectly aligned with your entrance, the head nudging gently against it. You could feel the warmth of him, the pulsing need that seemed to radiate from his very pores. "Simon," you breathed, your voice trembling.
He was going slow, almost agonizingly so. Simon watched the head of his cock finally breaching your slick folds, and he groaned. Your eyes went wide, your body stiffening as you felt the first inch enter you. It was glorious. He was so big, so thick, it felt as though you were being split in two, like there was a “you” before and after this.
"Look at that," he growled, his voice thick with satisfaction. "So tight, so wet for me." He began to move, inch by inch, filling you up with his massive girth. With every push, you felt yourself stretching, accommodating more of him, and you couldn't help the moans that slipped from your lips. "That's it," he encouraged, his eyes fixated on your pussy. "Take it all, baby. Take every last inch of your man's cock."
There was a faint pain despite being prepared to take him, it was laced with something pleasant. Each time he pushed forward, you felt yourself opening up to him, your body reshaping itself just for him, for his cock, every cell of your being responding to his steady thrusts. His breath tickled your neck, hot against your skin, as he whispered sweet taunts that sent shivers down your spine. "You're such a good little slut," he said, his voice a low growl. "Letting me fill you up like this."
Your cheeks flamed with both embarrassment and arousal. The words should have offended you, but instead, they made your pussy clench around his cock. You could feel yourself getting wetter, your arousal making it easier for him to slide deeper into you. His movements grew more deliberate, the slow, torturous pace driving you crazy with need.
"Look how much of me you can take," he said, his voice a sensual purr. "You're such a good little slut for me, aren't you?"
The words were like a brand, searing themselves into your soul and leaving a trail of fire in their wake. You liked it, the way his words made you feel both dirty and desired. With a final, agonizingly slow push, he bottomed out, fully buried inside you, his balls resting against your ass. The sensation was indescribable, a mix of pain and pleasure that had you panting and writhing beneath him.
"Atta girl," he murmured, his eyes gleaming with hunger and lust. He leaned down, capturing your mouth in a bruising kiss, his tongue pushing past your lips with the same demanding force as his cock had your pussy. The taste of him filled your mouth, mingling with your own sweetness.
As the kiss deepened, Simon began to move, his hips rocking in a slow, steady rhythm that had your eyes rolling back in your head. He pushed in to the hilt, filling you completely, before pulling back almost all the way out. The sensation was maddening, the friction of his cock against your inner walls making your toes curl, and your nails dig into his skin.
With each thrust, he grew more aggressive, his grunts growing louder, filling the quiet warehouse with the sounds of your sexual consummation. Your moans grew in tandem, your breath hitching with every stroke. You felt like you were being claimed, owned, and the feeling was intoxicating. The pleasure built inside you, a heat that grew with each stroke of his cock.
Simon held your hip with a tight, possessive grip, his strong hands pinning you in place as he fucked you with a brutal efficiency that defied his gentle touch from before. The look in his eyes was like a storm, swirling with emotions that you couldn't quite decipher. Was it just desire? Lust? Or something else, something far more profound? You didn't know, and you didn't care. All you knew was that you needed more of him, you needed him deeper, harder.
Your eyes fluttered shut, unable to bare the weight of his stare, but he was relentless. Forcing you to meet his gaze, "Look at me," he growled, his voice thick with passion. "Look at me when I fuck you." your eyes snapped open, and you found yourself lost in his gaze once again, your breath coming in ragged gasps as he fucked you.
He went rougher, his balls slapping against your ass with every deep thrust, the sound echoing off the walls of the warehouse. It was a primal, carnally satisfying sound that seemed to resonate through your very core, driving you closer and closer to the edge. Each thrust sent a jolt of divine pleasure through you, mixing with the pain of his intrusion to create a cocktail of sensation that was more addictive than any drug.
He lowered his head to your neck and murmured, "I can feel your heartbeat around me. It's driving me fucking crazy, baby." His teeth nipping at your skin. "You make me feel strong when I'm inside you. Like I can conquer the word." More heat bloomed in your core, "You're going to swell up with my cum, love."
Your eyes widened, shock and arousal coursing through your veins, the thought sent a thrill through you. "You like that, don't you?" Simon asked, his voice a low rumble. "The thought of being filled with my cum, growing round and lush with my seed?" He leaned down to nip at your ear, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin. "You're going to be the best little breeding slut, aren't you?"
Your cheeks flushed at his words, but you couldn't deny the way your pussy clenched around him, the way your hips began to lift to meet his thrusts. He noticed the change in you immediately, the way you moaned louder, the way you arched your back and pushed your breasts up towards him, like a heavenly offer. "Oh, you do," he said with a smug smile, his strokes becoming more forceful. "You want my cum, don't you?"
"Yes," you whimpered, the word torn from you as he hit a spot deep inside you that sent waves of pleasure through your body. "I want it."
"That's what I thought," Simon said, his grin wicked as he leaned back and began to fuck you with a viciousness that left you gasping. Each thrust was a declaration, a claim, a promise of what was to come. "You're going to be so full of me, baby. So full of my cum." His words were sweet, almost tender, laced with a brutal certainty that had your pussy spasming around his cock.
He placed his scarred palm over your opened mouth like he was trying to suffocate you, his fingers were spread apart and roughly grabbed your face. ”Kiss it,” He demanded, “Lick it, baby.” He gripped you by the waist with the other hand, your soft flesh giving in to his ruthless hold.
You did as he commanded, making out with the flesh you knew so well, licked and kissed the scar you healed. You got lost in the feeling of worshiping the creased skin of his hand. Worshiping him.
With a roar, Simon plunged two of his fingers into your mouth, thrusted in you one last time and you felt his entire body tensing as he reached his climax. You felt the hot, thick spurts of his cum fill you as you sucked on his fingers that still tasted like you. It was exhilarating. His hips jerked against you, his cock pulsing as he emptied himself inside you.
The feeling of his seed spilling into you was unlike anything Simon had ever experienced before, a primal rush that resonated through his very soul.
Your own orgasm followed quickly, your body shaking with the force of it. Your scream muffled by his digits, your nails digging into the skin of his thighs, you held on as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over you. Simon never took his eyes off of you, watching you fall apart beneath him with a ferocious and possessive stare.
The sound of your combined release filled the air, a symphony of moans and grunts that echoed off the walls surrounding you. His cock swelled even larger, his spurts of cum painting your inner walls and claiming you as his, you could feel his cock jerk with each one, filling you to the brim, stretching you impossibly wider.
"Ten," he panted, his body finally stilling above you. "Ten spurts of my love, baby." He leaned down, kissing you softly, his tongue slipping into your mouth, sharing the taste of the moment with you.
You felt boneless, the scale of your climax leaving you trembling and overwhelmed. You could feel his cum inside you, a warm, thick presence that filled you completely. The reality of what they'd just done settled over you, a mix of shock and euphoria.
Simon's cock twitched one last time before sliding out of you with a wet pop, leaving your pussy gaping open and exposed. He watched you with smug satisfaction, his chest heaving with exertion. The head of his cock was still coated in your combined juices, a white foamy ring around the base showed how good the sex had been.
You lay there, your chest heaving, your legs trembling as you tried to come to terms with what had just happened. You felt… changed, somehow. Different. The intimate nature of the encounter only served to amplify your afterglow, leaving you feeling both sated and yet insatiably hungry for more.
Simon’s cum was slowly trickling out of you, the sticky warmth of it reminded you of the unhinged way you’d acted. You couldn't believe you had begged for it, begged to be filled with his seed. But you had, and now you felt both ashamed and strangely proud of yourself. It was as if a switch had been flipped inside you, awakening something you didn’t know was there.
Simon stood up, his massive cock still semi-hard and wet with your slick. He looked down at your pussy, a proud smile playing on his lips as he gently removed your legs from his shoulders. "You did so well, sweetheart," he said, his voice still gruff with desire. "Can’t wait to get you on my bed."
You felt a swell of hope at his words, he wanted more too. Despite the anxiety and confusion that fought within you, you had never felt so alive, so desired. "Thank you," you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.
Still standing over you, he offered you a hand up. As you took it, you felt the tremble in his fingers, the residue of his own climax. He helped you to your feet, his gaze lingering on your naked form, committing every detail to memory.
"I could just bend you over right now and fuck that sweet, tempting ass," he said, his voice a gruff purr. "But I've got to get you cleaned up. Somebody is bound to show up, so we’ll leave that for later." He playfully slapped one ass cheek, making you jump and shriek. It stung, leaving a warm imprint off his palm, a clear gesture of ownership. "You stay here while I look for something to clean us up," he ordered, his tone gentle.
You watched as he strutted away, his muscular frame flexing with every step, the wetness on his cock glistening under the dim light. You couldn't help but admire him, the way his cock bobbed slightly with each movement. It was an erotic sight, one you could get used to.
As he looked around, and the afterglow cleared from your foggy brain, you pondered how to tell him the story; about a young soldier you met in the ICU years ago, when you were just an intern. A handsome young man who had a tube down his throat and a wound on his lower back from ricochet shrapnel. How you had been the one assigned to move all his joints and stretch all his muscles, two times a day, every day, while he was unconscious. How you would talk to him about anything and everything, even if he didn’t answer. How you were the one who took care of the man until your rotation ended, and you were sent elsewhere, never knowing what became of him. Never seeing the soldier again.
Until Simon “Ghost” Riley decided to use his hand as a shield against a machete.
Sevika is the type of woman who needs eye contact whenever pleasures you or fucks you. That woman needs your attention she thrives on your validation , your soft gazes does things to her heart. The way you so sweet look up at her , biting your lips trying to supress a moan .
I know she missionary, that way she can admire you , praise and love you. Hungry eyes watch how you well you take her. "Fuck baby thats it .."
Whenever youre angry with her ot upset and try to avoid her gaze she forces you to meet her gaze , no matter how angry you are those eyes vetter meet her gaze otherwise she cant breathe.
Sevika loved the idea of claiming you in front of your new mirror she went feral for it so when you decided to get a new mirror she went about feral about it.
Sevika loves mirror sex she gets to admire every inch of you , every roll , your sweet hips and thighs and those gorgeous eyes that meet her gaze in the mirror she loves the mess you are because of her. Nothing better than to pound into in front of a mirror and claim her pretty girl.
Sevika was a rough woman, she didn't do sweet shit — hell she killed men with her bare hands like it was nothing. skin covered in scars and marks from battles. She hated when people got two close thinking they could touch her , like they had any right to get this close in the first place. However when it came to you Sevika craved your touch - she couldn't wait to get back home and have you all for herself. Burying her face into your chest take a big long sniff of your perfume , a warm body waiting for her , a heart that loves her despite the darkness. To come home to a warm and soft body with such gentleness, she was afraid she might break you. Sevika didn't mind your touch nor the closeness , hell she was obsessed with it, you hands roaming over her muscles. touching those thick and muscular thighs.
When sevika comes home she needs you , she's the type of woman that needs eye contact and reassurance. Her grey eyes studying your face as your lips form an 'O' when you're close. Nails digging into her bicep as she thrusts into you like a depraved animal after weeks of not being home she had to remind you who you belong to.
Sevika loved the mirror in the shared bedroom she had a lot of fun watching you lose yourself only to force you to meet her eyes. when she had you on all fours sevika loved to pull your hair grey eyes drinking your fo her gaze in the mirror while she gave
