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writersdrug · 1 year ago

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Konig x Reader: Fucking You to Sleep

All credit goes to @legitchase for this lovely idea! I had so much fun writing this, please send me requests if yall want to see more!!!

Summary: from @legitchase

"Ok ok hear me out new COD MEN idea

You and your cod man, you two came from a mission he is still sort of energetic while you are really exhausted.

As you two lay in bed he softly grinds against your ass so you gave him permission to fuck into you softly as you went to sleep, making little moans in you sleep as you man makes you feel so great while drifting off to sleep"

Warnings: smut, somewhat somnophilia but consensual, fingering, slight edging, p in v, size kink, stomach bulge, google-translate German, writer never played COD :(

Konig opened the door to your shared room, stretching his limbs and sighing. "Scheiße, it's good to be back." he strode inside, heading straight to the small coffee pot the both of you had stolen from the mess hall. He started making coffee, stretching out his left hip, then his right.

You trudged into the room, bags under your eyes, muscles sore, and shoulders slumped. Your feet dragged underneath you as you closed the door behind you. Tired was an understatement - you were exhausted to the point that you were perfectly content to pass out on the cold ground and call it a night.

The mission had gone smoothly, almost as perfect as one could ask for. Konig had been positioned near the outskirts of the field, obediently waiting for the hostages to be delivered to the pick up point. You, on the other hand, had been involved in clearing the way to the hostages, as well as the path to Konig's group. You had shot, stabbed, kicked, and punched so many enemy soldiers, sometimes fighting two at once. Your mind was overworked as well as your body, and you had a few sore spots from the occasional soldier that had landed a hit on you. You never got the chance to sleep on the way back - and your body was about to make that happen, whether you were in a bed or standing up.

Konig pulled off his sniper hood, watching with a smile as you dragged yourself to the bed and flopped onto it. He chuckled. "Schatz, aren't you ecstatic? You did a great job out there!"

"M-hmph..." you muttered, your face smushed into the pillows. You sank your muscles into the mattress, groaning in both relief and pain. If only KorTac hadn't deemed the massage therapist unnecessary...

You heard the coffee dripping into the pot, followed by Konig's heavy footsteps. He crouched down, gently turning your head so he could look at your face. You kept your eyes closed.

"Engel, are you tired?" he asked sarcastically, caressing the side of your face. His head was slightly tilted to match your eye level.

You huffed sarcastically. "Just a 'lil bit." you mumbled. You opened your eyes, meeting Konig's piercing blue ones. He had a small pout on his lips.

He ran his large hand down your shoulders, squeezing the muscle gently. You whined squeezed your eyes shut at the painful relief, furring your brow as he kneaded away. He moved down to your arm, skillfully massaging it with his calloused hands. He landed on your hand, taking it between both of his and flexing your fingers, rubbing each knuckle tenderly. You hummed in appreciation.

You opened your eyes again, noticing Konig's pupils had widened the slightest bit. Oh no... nope, nope nope. You thought. You were WAY too tired to give him what he needed right now. Not that you were ever unwilling to be his fuck toy when he wanted it - you just didn't know if you could stay awake for it.

"So schön, meine Liebe..." So beautiful, my love... He muttered. You felt his breath on your face as he planted a kiss to your forehead.

"You think this is beautiful?" You asked with a smirk. "You're a simple man, Konig." You smushed your face back into the pillow, ignoring the desperation in his eyes.

"Why don't you go get a shower, hmm?" He said, rubbing the palm of your hand. "I can grab us food from the mess hall - you can stay here and unwind."

You hummed and nodded in response. Konig pulled your hips to sit you upright, kneeling himself between your legs. Your head rolled to the side, unable to even hold it upright for long from the soreness. Konig gazed up at you lustfully. You pretended to ignore it and yawned instead.

He squeezed your hips once before moving away, letting you stand up. "I'll have some coffee first, then I'll go. You wash up."

You slipped off your boots and haphazardly dropped them by the edge of the bed. As you made your way to the bathroom, you heard Konig scoff, as he moved your shoes and placed them next to his, perfectly aligned and neat. You chuckled.

-----

The entire bathroom was filled with steam. You had the water as hot as it could possibly be. It beat fiercely against your muscles - exactly what you needed. Your braced your hands against the wall in front of you, savoring every sting and ache of the hot water against your skin. You didn't even have the energy to actually bathe yourself at the moment. You would attempt that in a little bit. For now, you soaked up the heat from the shower, letting it seep into your bones.

You heard the bathroom door creak open, then it shut. Konig hummed as he moved on the other side of the curtain. You assumed he just needed something and would leave in a moment. He rustled around for a bit, the sound of fabric hitting the ground, followed by his feet quietly slapping against the tile floor.

Moments later, he threw the shower curtain back.

"Holy shit!!" you exclaimed, jumping further into the shower, startled. "The hell - I thought you went to the mess hall?!"

Konig casually stepped into the shower with you, his eyes flickering over your naked body. "I was going to, but I probably need a shower too." He closed the curtain behind him. "Why waste the water, since you're getting one already?" He smirked mischievously.

"Konig, there's hardly any room in here for both of us." You stated. You were crammed against the shower wall, purposefully avoiding looking at his obvious hard-on. It rested against your stomach as he stared down at you, eyes half-lidded in lust. Your hands rested on his chest as you tried to create space between the two of you, although you didn't mind his muscular body being pressed into yours.

He ignored your protest. "Liebling, you haven't even bathed yourself." He said, running his hands down your back. "Let me help you, bitte? You just relax, I'll wash you."

You wanted to say no, since you knew where it would lead, and you were too drained to even think of it. But it was hard to deny Konig, especially as he ran his soap-lathered hands over your arms, delicately massaging the muscles under your skin. You let out a long sigh, leaning into his touch as he masterfully worked the knots out of your shoulders, your flanks, and then your hips, lingering there a while longer. His hands combined with the hot water and the smell of the soap... your mind was practically numb under his touch. You felt yourself relax more and more as he worked the tension from your body.

Konig stared down at you, pupils blown wide. You were the kind of person to get all shy when you were naked, even though the two of you had been together for a while now. But here, in your tired state, you wordlessly submitted to him. You had come back from the mission as a hard, cracked, and dry wad of clay, and Konig was using his large hands and the hot water to mold you into what he wanted. His cock was painfully hard at the thought of you, too tired to fully push him away from you, forced to give in to his advances as he fucked you in the shower wall. You're muscles were too sore for you to fight back - he would slam himself into you until you passed out from exhaustion, your overworked little body trembling and twitching as he held you against the tiles. Your little throat would barely be able to whimper his name out.

Just the thought of him fucking you to sleep was making precum drip from his cock. It rested heavily against your back as he was running his hands down lower, squeezing out the tension from your muscles. You involuntarily let out a soft moan - the feeling of his hands was soothing, comforting... and also getting you aroused. As tired as you were, every grip from his fingers sent pleasure shooting from your core to your chest. You felt his cock twitch at your moan.

You lazily tilted your head back against his chest, looking at him through your lashes with a soft smile. He smiled back, desire settling in his lower abdomen. He leaned down and kissed the crown of your head. Slowly, he snaked an arm around your waist, pulling you closer against his chest.

"Mein süßes mädchen..." My sweet girl... whispered, lips pressed to your head. "How about I make you feel good, yes?" His free arm climbed up your abdomen until it reached your breasts, grabbing the left one and massaging it between his fingers. "You did so well earlier - I want to reward you for it." He rolled your nipple between his fingers and tugged at it.

You arched your back against him, mewling and whining. His fingers were massaging the flesh of your stomach and pinching and pulling at your nipple... it felt so good, you would have let him take you then and there. But the more aroused you felt, the more you noticed how tired you were. "Konig, baby, can - can we please do this in the m-morning?" You whimpered out.

Konig groaned, half aroused, half frustrated. "I promise I can be gentle, schatz. I won't make you cum too much." He started grinding his cock along your ass, his arm squeezing tightly around your waist. His dick throbbed, aching to feel your cunt squeezing him tight.

You exhaled a shaky breath, before gathering your resolve and turning to face him. He let out a soft moan as your skin dragged along his cock as you spun. He gripped your shoulders tightly as you looked him in his eyes.

"Tomorrow morning, love." You gently held his face between your hands, smiling. "I promise. I'm just too tired tonight." You pulled his head down to plant a long kiss on his lips. He groaned against your mouth, before a sigh escaped through his nose.

He pulled back, caressing your face with his thumb. "Alright. Tomorrow then. Let's get you cleaned for now, and then some dinner, yes?"

The both of you continued to shower, Konig insisting on washing your hair. You stood with your eyes closed, basking in the feeling of his fingers massaging your scalp. You were starting to get frustrated yourself, between feeling both aroused and sleepy. But you focused on the feeling of his hands on your hair and the water hitting your skin (or whatever skin it could reach - Konig took up most of the stream).

Konig did his best to focus on washing your hair and body. His eyes kept wandering over your silhouette from above, cock throbbing as he watched the water running down your breasts, to your pussy, and then trailing off down your thighs. He pushed his desires away, concentrating on taking care of you.

-----

After your shower, Konig had left to grab some food, while you dried your hair and slipped into your night clothes - which consisted of your underwear and one of Konig's army-green t shirts. When he returned with some protein bars and bananas (the mess hall's only options since it was after hours), he faltered as he caught a glimpse of you. You were seated at the edge of the bed, practically swallowed in his shirt, nipples threatening to poke holes in it. You smiled gratefully at him. Despite having his sniper hood back on, you could see the tinge of pink in his face, as he quickly looked away.

The two of you ate your food, Konig splayed out in a chair across the room, sniper hood on the desk next to him, you still sitting on the edge of the bed. You talked about the mission, it's faults and it's victories, Konig saying that he would have preferred that you were the one to stay at the pick up point, and he should have gone to retrieve the hostages.

He always did that - he would complain after the fact that your team's captain would consistently put you in the more dangerous situations, rather than having you on the safer end of things. Konig would have even preferred if he could have been there with you, but that's never how it was. Either you were both in dangerous situations on opposite sides of the field, or it was just you, and he was forced to wait on the sidelines, far away from the danger. He never doubted your skill, and he would never try to hold you back. But he wished that you could be closer to him than the danger. You found it sweet, but preferred it this way. Better you close to the danger than Konig - you would never live if something had happened to him.

And if something happened to you, neither could he.

After dinner, Konig changed into sweatpants, opting to sleep shirtless. ("You're wearing my shirt, after all.") You climbed onto the bed, feeling Konig settle in behind you, wrapping a heavy arm around your waist, pulling you flush against him. You held it tightly and intertwined your legs with his. His warm breath fell against the back of your head as he nuzzled into your hair, which still smelled like your shampoo.

You felt safe. Finally home, finally in your bed, with your Konig. His hold on your body felt protective, something you didn't have the luxury of feeling for the entire mission. You were finally able to relax. You sighed contentedly... the cool sheets, Konig's strong arms, the rise and fall of his chest, the fact that you could sleep in tomorrow morning... It soothed you, and you let the wave of sleep slowly begin to pull you under, bit by bit.

Konig let out the smallest, quietest whine. He knew you were tired. He didn't want to disturb you. But he was still hard from earlier. His cock was so swollen and painful, he was going insane. He couldn't hold himself back any longer, especially not with your pussy just a few pieces of fabric away. He pawed at the flesh of your abdomen, using his other hand to rub down your thigh. Slowly, he began pushing his clothed cock against your ass.

You stirred; you had been on the brink of sleep, when you felt Konig kneading your stomach and grinding against you. You recognized the heat pooling in your pelvis, letting out a small whimper. "Konig, please..." you begged - not entirely sure if it was for him to stop, or to move faster.

"I'm sorry, prinzessin..." he said desperately... "I can't help it, I... mph, I'm going insane... I need to feel you around me, please?" He was now pathetically humping your ass, already pulling down his sweats until he was just in his boxers. You felt his pulsing, warm cock pressed up against you. "Bitte, liebe..." he began kissing your neck, right in your sweet spot.

You moaned lazily. "I'm just too tired, I'm sorry-"

"Schatz, you don't need to do anything." he cut you off with desperation in his voice. "Let me take care of you, bitte... you don't have to lift a finger. I just need to be inside of you right now... please, please..."

His hands groping your waist, his breath on your neck, his lips sucking at your skin... and his pathetic begging, won over your better judgement. You knew you wouldn't be able to hold him off in your current state, and he would end up taking what he wanted anyways. And despite being so tired, you were still aroused... Would you really be able to fall asleep if you deprived yourself? "Alright, love."

"You sure?" he answered immediately, whining needily.

"I'm sure."

And that was all he needed. Placing a kiss to the back of your head, Konig carefully removed your panties, letting them hang off of one of your ankles. With one hand, he pulled the waistband of his boxers down, freeing his cock and letting it slap against your ass. He moved his hand from your stomach down to your pussy, prodding at your clit with two fingers. You rubbed your thighs together, feeling a mix of soreness and wetness, as he rubbed your swollen bundle of nerves between his fingertips.

"So fucking wet for me..." he groaned in your ear, "... even when you're tired, you're so needy." He slipped a finger past your clit, running it along your lips. You didn't have the energy to buck against him - instead, you tilted your hips back, trying to angle yourself to feel as much pleasure as possible. He teased you, prodding the tip of his finger just past your lips, before pulling it back. You whined, your juices spilling over his hand as your arousal grew even more.

"Please, Konig..." you begged, your voice barely above a whisper. Despite the desire settling in your stomach, you could feel yourself being pulled back into sleep. Your moans were lazy and low, and your body was limp in his arms.

"I know, love, I know..." he whispered in your ear. He brought his hand to his mouth and licked your wetness that coated his fingers. He groaned, savoring the taste, his erection twitching painfully. "I'm going to fuck you to sleep, liebling. You deserve it, you worked so hard... Just let me take care of you, alright?" He dipped his fingers back down to your pussy, rubbing your clit in slow circles with the pad of this thumb.

You couldn't answer him. Instead, weak, soft whimpers fell from your lips, followed by the quiet clicking sounds of his fingers teasing your cunt, finally dipping inside. A pang of pleasure shot from your core, and your walls instinctively clenched around him, sucking him deeper into you. You pathetically mumbled in pleasure as he slowly dragged his fingers in, and out, and in, and out...

Konig kissed the side of your neck as your moans enticed him, making his length drip with precum as he continued to grind against your ass. He felt your walls tightening around his fingers, greedily sucking on him. He spread his fingers and pushed them against your walls, curving one of them just right to hit your sweet spot. You whimpered and rocked your hips lazily, trying to push him deeper into you.

"Hmm, look at you..." he whispered low in your ear, followed by a soft kiss on your temple. "I thought you were sleepy, mein engel..." he teased. You whined, barely audible, as more and more of your juices dripped onto his palm. "So helpless, so fucking small in my hands..." he pumped his fingers faster, flicking his thumb back and forth over your clit.

You felt the familiar coil tightening in your lower abdomen, and at the same time, you knew you were drifting off to sleep. You moaned as he continued to finger-fuck your cunt, unable to produce more than a high-pitched cry. Your thighs weakly rubbed together as your impending orgasm built in your core.

"Konig, please, bitte, bitte, bitte..." you babbled quietly, your consciousness drifting as your walls began fluttering around his fingers.

Your pleading in German stirred a fire in Konig's abdomen. He growled low, "Gutes verdammtes mädchen, das ist es..." Good fucking girl, that's it... He flicked your clit harder, relishing in the small, high whimpers that sent an electric shock through his core. He snaked his other hand under your side, coming around to gently squeeze at your throat. "Komm für mich, meine müde Prinzessin..." Cum for me, my tired princess... he grunted as he drove his digits into your pussy, curling them to prod against your g-spot. "That's it... yes, yes, yes..."

Your hips instinctively rocked against his fingers, mind going numb as your orgasm ripped through your body. Your one hand grabbed the one of Konig's that was deep in your cunt, pawing helplessly at his forearm. Your legs began to shake as the pleasure overtook you, making you mewl and whine. Your slick flowed freely over his fingers and into his palm, and you heard him growl and felt his cock twitch against your ass. You closed your heavy eyelids, his hand still firm around your throat, feeling yourself drift into the ecstasy...

Konig continued to flick your clit, hoping to overstimulate you for a while longer, until he felt your body go limp in his arms. Your legs were still shaking from your orgasm, but the rest of your muscles were slack against him. He smiled proudly to himself, pulling his fingers out of you slowly. He felt your walls clench one more time around him, as if they didn't want to let him go. He brought his fingers up and once more licked your cum off of his hand, making sure none of it was wasted. He softly moaned at your taste.

"Oh, liebling..." he said lowly, "I'm not finished with you yet." He used his wet hand to pump himself a few times - his cock ached under his touch, red and hot and desperately needing relief. "I said I was going to fuck you, and you're going to take every inch..." he pulled himself down the bed slightly, so that your dripping pussy was positioned right above his swollen member. "... even in your dreams."

With both hands on your hips, he slowly guided himself into your cunt. He stopped halfway, hearing you whimper in your sleep, your brow furrowed in pleasure. Your eyes remained closed, but your mouth parted slightly, sucking in a short breath.

Konig absentmindedly shushed you, pressing a kiss to the back of your neck. "I know, schatz..." he said shakily, "I know, I know... you can take it, you're such a good girl, I know you can." He groaned lazily, feeling your walls stretch slightly around him, and he pushed the rest of his length into your cunt. His exhale caught in his throat, and his fingers gripped the flesh at your hips, sure to leave marks in the morning.

Your hips bucked slightly as your pussy squelched, trying to make room for all of him as Konig was balls deep inside of you. He panted, sweat covering his entire body. Your wetness felt so good as he twitched inside of you. Slowly, as he was trying to be considerate of your sleeping form, he ground his hips into you. He moved one hand to the front of your abdomen, feeling around until he found the buldge pressing forward in your stomach. He growled when he touched it, imagining his big cock barely fitting into your tight cunt. He pressed his hand down onto the bump, and your body reacted, shivering around him.

He stuttered in pleasure, biting his lip to keep his moans at a low volume. The quiet sounds of his balls slapping against your pussy echoed through the room, accompanied by his rhythmic grunting and your weak whimpers. His cock throbbed inside of you, sending jolts of pleasure through his lower abdomen with each thrust. His face was flushed and his pupils were blown wide as he huffed, burying his face into the crook of your neck, mumbling sweet nothings in German into your ear.

He felt himself teetering closer to his orgasm - the sounds of him fucking you to sleep, the feeling of the mixed juices coating his cock and his thighs, your high whines and mewls, the lingering taste of your cum on his tongue... He was so close to the edge, desperately trying to hold himself back as to not disturb you, and to last a few moments longer...

"I'm gonna fucking breed you, liebe..." he mumbled, whimpering as his orgasm approached quickly. "... gonna fucking fill you up, and there's not a damn thing you can do... Scheiße, so fucking tight... You take my cock so well, meine gute kleine Schlampe..." My good little slut... He felt your walls clenching rhythmically around his member, and your whimpers got higher and higher, your back arching against his as a second orgasm overcame you.

He felt his cock twitching, and a cord in his lower abdomen snapped. "Fuuuck, liebe, take it, take it, fucking take it, Scheiße..."

His thrusts became shallow and sloppy - he sank his teeth into your neck as an attempt to quiet his grunts and whimpers as he pounded into you, his cum spurting through his cock, filling up your cunt. "Mph, scheisse!" he whined into your neck. He rode out his orgasm, the room filling with sloppy squelching as his cum seeped out of you, dripping onto his thighs and the sheets.

He felt your body relax once more, his own muscles going limp around you. He lazily ground his hips into your ass, his cock still embedded in your cunt, now going soft. He gently thumbed his cum back into your pussy, pushing it in between his member and your lips. He sighed contentedly, wrapping both of his arms around your waist and pulling you closer onto him. He nestled his face in the crook of your neck, feeling the layer of sweat that covered you both.

"Du bist mein perfektes Mädchen..." You are my perfect girl... he mumbled into your ear, planting a kiss on the top of it. You stirred gently, your hips briefly moving away from his. He gently held you down on his cock. "No, schatz..." he hummed, eyes closing, "... I want to stay in this warm, sweet pussy of yours... oh, verdammt, I've missed you... I'll never let you go for so long again..."

He placed one last kiss to your neck, before hugging you tighter, his length still buried deep inside you. As he drifted off to sleep, he had one last thought. "Don't think I forgot your promise for tomorrow morning, liebling..."

#konig cod #konig x reader #call of duty #konig smut #cod smut #konig x reader smut #konig

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evermoreal · 1 year ago

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it always leads to you ࿐

pairing: simon riley x reader

genre: dad’s best friend au, fluff, smut, a touch of angst

cw: smut - this is 18+ minors dni, age gap (ghost is in his 40s, reader is in her 20s), fem!reader, reader is implied to be shorter than ghost, unprotected sex (bad idea!!!!!), praise kink (excessive use of ‘good girl’), oral (m & f receiving), face-fucking (he’s gentle abt it), ummmm a man that is Not ghost makes unwanted sexual advances, small mention of blood (someone gets a cut on their forehead). please lmk if i missed anything !!!!!!

summary: coming home for the holidays is both a blessing and a curse — cheesy music, bittersweet nostalgia, and simon riley, your father’s best friend and the man you’ve had a stupidly big crush on for years.

author’s note: hiii!! um a Few things . firstly, i seldom write smut & when i do i never post it. i have put off posting this for so long bc i was so nervous — it was originally meant to be a christmas gift to u guys 😭😭 n e ways we Prevail. also i despite being Obsessed w him i’ve never written for ghost !!!! i want to do soo much more for him & the other cod men, so if u have any reqs/ideas, my asks are always open !!! love u guys soooooo much i hope i enjoy ! 💋💋

word count: 11k (sorry 😭)

credits: title is from tis the damn season by taylor swift, and the beauuuutifullll render/edit of ghost is by user dwisesz on twitter!

before you met him, you’d heard endless stories. for as long as you could remember, your father recounted tales of his friend ‘ghost’ from the army. every time he came back from deployment, there’d be something new — ghost’s snipe from 2,700 meters away, ghost making your dad laugh so hard beer came out of his nose, ghost making a new recruit cry simply by staring at them.

there were others, of course, too; gaz, who your father had quite the soft spot for; john, who quickly became your favourite when you met him a few years ago and he snuck you a sip of wine at dinner; soap, who was new to the team but had enough passion to carry an entire army on his back.

ghost, though — he was your dad’s favourite. though he claimed to be too honourable for favourites, the way your father spoke about him made it clear. a simultaneous respect and affection woven through every recounted story.

it was a shock you didn’t meet him until your freshman year of college. your father and ghost’s leave fell around the same time, and your father had invited him to stay with your family. your father never revealed much about ghost’s history, but you knew it was dark and splattered with blood. he was alone now, and though he claimed he preferred it that way, he’d accepted your father’s invitation.

from your bedroom, you’d heard the front door creak open, and without so much as a breath you were bounding down the stairs, bare feet smacking against the hardwood. your father was in the midst of putting down his bags when you threw your arms around him. “dad!”

he reciprocated immediately, pulling you tightly against him. “hi, honey. i missed you.”

as you pulled back, he patted your head, and you spotted a shadow along the floor. following it toward the still-open door, you found a broad, menacing figure, blocking most of the sunlight. he was nearly as wide as the doorway, and the top of his head just barely made it under the threshold. over his face was hidden by a black balaclava with the faint impression of a skull along the front, faded with age and use. despite the endless stories, you were immediately intimidated, and stepped closer to your father.

your dad squeezed your arm, chuckling. “lieutenant, this is my daughter.”

looking between the two of you, simon took a slow step forward, and extended his hand. his movements were careful, like you were a wild animal he didn’t want to spook.

hesitating briefly, you slipped your hand into his. the warmth of ghost’s hand bled through the gloves he wore as he squeezed yours once. “nice to meet you, sweetheart.”

“it’s nice to meet you, um, mr ghost.” you had to crane your neck to look him in the eye.

a low, raspy chuckle rumbled from his chest, and beneath the balaclava, his eyes creased into tiny half-moons. “just simon is fine, love.”

and, really, he didn’t even give you a chance. there was no warning, no preamble. in an instant, fear ignited into something far more dangerous — attraction.

with a warm stomach, you smiled, and tried your hardest to keep it from growing too wide. “right. um. simon. yes.” you bit your cheek. “i’ve heard a lot about you.”

finally releasing your hand, he murmured, “terrible things, i assume.” his wink was quick and cheeky and certainly wasn’t meant to release a swarm of butterflies in your stomach, and yet . . .

“mostly,” you joked, and beside you, your father laughed. it was a rude awakening — ice water splashed over your silly little daydream. this man was only a few years younger than your father — in no universe would he give you a chance, and in no world should you want him to.

as quickly and as unassumingly as you could, you excused yourself, claiming you were in the middle of packing — which was mostly true. you were due on campus in less than two weeks, and if you didn’t start now, you’d leave it until the night before and end up forgetting something.

initially, you’d dreaded spending two weeks under the same roof as simon. it was a surefire plan to end up embarrassing yourself, because you’d never really been able to act normally around a crush, especially one in the shape of a 6-foot-whatever behemoth. yet, as the days went on, that dread steadily began to lift. despite your school girl crush, simon was easy to talk to. a lot of the time he was quiet, but his eyes never wavered from you, listening intently and humming where it mattered. he was fun, too — he recommended good movies, took you shopping while your father ran errands, taught you the best places to hit a man if one attacked you.

(a picture of simon, dramatically curled up in pain after you’d accidentally kicked him in the balls during a lesson now sits in your phone’s ‘favourites’ folder).

two weeks went by far too quickly, and before you knew it, your dad and simon were lugging your belongings up and into your dorm. not a single bag was left for you — you were tasked with the important duty of telling them what went where. when all was said and done, simon handed you a tiny piece of paper with a ten-digit number scrawled messily across it.

“in case you ever need me,” he explained, warm brown eyes peering at you beneath terribly long lashes. “i know your dad’s always there, but — just in case.”

then, he’d patted your head and squeezed your shoulder, murmuring a, “good luck, kid.”

and, though he was lovely to look at and talk with and exist around, you knew it would never be anything more. no matter how desperately a silly little part of you wished it. he spent time with you because he didn’t have anyone else. never had a daughter or a niece to spoil or playfight with. it was endearing, the way he interacted with you. wholesome and innocent and if that was all you’d ever get, you’d be happy.

— ∘♡༉∘ —

college was a lot. it was simultaneously the best and worst time of your life, passing by at both a snail’s and bullet’s pace. somehow, you ended up halfway through your final year. the holidays had rolled around, leaving you on a train, weaving over the tracks as you made your way back home.

in the years you’d been away, you’d kept in contact with simon. he joined your family for every holiday, and beyond that, you texted him often. sent him photos of your proudest grades, spirit days, or yummy meals. he’d even occasionally text you first, asking how your classes were going, if it was raining there like it was here, if you got home safe on the nights he knew you went out.

the landlord he’d rented his shitty apartment from ended up selling the place and simon had to relocate, finding a place only a few minutes from your dad’s. they loved to bug you, now — sending selfies and videos. to occupy themselves on their offtime, they’d opened a car repair shop together, and it only got worse.

you weren’t supposed to be home until tomorrow, but you were feeling homesick and your bags were already packed. before long, you were stepping out of a taxi, bags in hand, and ambling up to the shop.

the reception area was tiny, sweetly decorated for the holidays and playing some generic christmas station. leaning against the desk was soap, slyly flirting with the blushing woman behind it.

his eyes lit up upon seeing you. “the fuck’re you doin’ ‘ere, lass?” he questioned far too loudly. immediately, you shushed him, and he caught on. “ooh, i love surprises. they’re back in the garage, workin’ away. y’want me t’film it?”

giggling, you shook your head, accepting the quick side hug he gave you. when you slipped through the garage door — opening it bit by bit, never too quickly lest it creak, soap returned to the customer.

the garage was stocked with cars in disrepair and various parts you couldn’t name if your life depended on it. the stench of motor oil, cigar smoke, and antifreeze stung your nose as you made your way over, where simon was wheeled beneath a car, thick thighs flexed inside oil-stained jeans. your father was turned away from you, bent over a shoddy metal table table and observing an array of papers. an ancient radio sat next to them, croaking out a rock song from your childhood.

“one of these days, i’m gonna teach you to use spotify,” you called, voice bouncing off the cement walls and ceiling.

a bang proceeded your words, and in the same instant, your father turned around, exclaiming your name and wrapping you in the world’s tightest bear-hug.

“we were supposed to pick you up tomorrow!” he said, voice muffled to your ears beneath the suffocating squeeze of his arms.

“figured i’d surprise you,” you supplied, stepping back from his grasp once it loosened. immediately after, you were enveloped by simon, who stunk of grease, cheap cologne, and tobacco. you inhaled; it was lovely.

“my favourite college student,” he murmured into the top of your head. “how y’been, trouble?”

when you pulled away, a dark splotch caught your eye. a small but growing patch of blood stained the top of his balaclava, turning the black fabric a murky shade of brown.

“shit! you’re bleeding!” you yelped, stepping away from him and searching your surroundings — there wasn’t much for medical supplies in a garage.

beside you, your dad was laughing; a deep, wheezy sound. “did y’hit your head?”

simon grunted, shooting you a playful glare. “if college doesn’t work out, kid, y’ve got an easy spot on the one-four-one. you’re quiet as a mouse. scared the shit outta me.”

despite yourself, you snorted. “i’ll keep that in mind. d’you guys have any bandaids?”

“there’s some in the office. bottom drawer of my desk,” your father replied, voice tinged with amusement.

“thank you, dad. simon, come. i took a first-aid course in high school.”

obediently, simon followed, keeping just a step behind as you moved through the garage. from his table, your father called, “we’re going out for dinner tonight, don’t make plans!”

“sir yes sir!”

simon and your father’s office was a small room just off the garage. carpeted, with off-white walls and dusty blinds letting in yellowish rays of sunlight. dusty photos hung from the wall; a few of you and your father; the 141; a german shepherd simon adored.

moving to the desk, you bent over and dug through the mountain of junk in the bottom drawer. the box of bandaids was shoved into the corner, bent and creased. simon copied your movements, rounding the desk and sitting on the worn desk chair.

“d’you know if you have anything to clean it with? hydrogen peroxide, saline, any kind of antiseptic?” you questioned, opening the drawer above it, which contained only invoices and a chequebook.

humming, simon stood, moving to the cabinet and pulling out a bottle of whiskey. at the roll of your eyes, he chuckled. “it works, doesn’t it?”

“i suppose it does,” you replied, collecting the fast food napkins you’d spotted while searching for the bandaids. then, after he’d sat once more, you softy placed your fingers at the bottom of simon’s balaclava. “may i?”

whenever simon’s eyes met yours, your breath hitched. every single time. whether it was because of that stupid crush that never went away or because his gaze were simply so intense, like an entire world existed within small pools of deep brown. pulling you in, drowning you. it was impossible to look away.

again, he hummed, granting you permission. gently, you rolled the fabric up, revealing his face inch by inch. this wouldn’t be the first time you’d seen his face — he spent far too much time around you to hide it. he still wore it more often than not, though, and every time he bothered to tug it off, it was like seeing it for the first time. roman nose, full lips, the scar across his brow, the prickly dusting of facial hair along his jaw. it was a shame he hated photographs — you’d frame it if you had any less sanity.

in your distraction, the tension had grown thick, humming in the silence of the room. clearing your throat, you took the whiskey from him, turning it over in your hands. “this stuff is shit.”

his face twisted. “how the hell d’you know what whiskey tastes like?”

snorting, you uncapped the bottle, and began to soak the corner of a napkin. “y’know, riley, i’ve been legal for a while now.”

his lip twitched, forming a crooked smile. “i know. it’s hard not to. y’keep growing. every time i see you, you’re . . .”

he trailed off. placing a gentle hand on his forehead, you tilted his head backward, and began to gently wipe at the cut. “i’m what?”

imperceptibly, he shook his head, careful not to jostle you. “more of a woman.”

you barked a laugh at that, and his smile grew. “more of a woman? what does that mean? i had tits when i met you, simon.”

simon rolled his eyes. “that’s not — what i meant. you’re . . . not a kid. you’re meaner now, for one.”

resuming the cleaning of his wound, you pouted. “mean? you wound me. maybe i’m just not scared of you anymore.”

“no, you’re not mean. always been a sweetheart.” his eyes fluttered shut beneath your ministrations. “you were scared of me?”

you giggled, and placed the bloodied napkin in the trash. then, you dug out a bandaid. “no, not really. nervous, maybe. intimidated.”

“is my handsome face really so daunting?”

this time, your laugh was lacklustre — he’d hit the nail straight on the head. “you’re bigfoot in a skull mask. before you spoke, i was a bit nervous.”

“but you’re not? now?”

peeling the parchment from the back of the bandaid, you met his gaze. “no. why would i be?”

this time, it was simon that looked away. you delicately placed the band-aid over the cut, before he said, “thank you, angel.”

you smiled, and, like you were drunk of the proximity of him, placed a quick, daring kiss to the band-aid. “if i wasn’t such a generous nurse, i’d say you owe me. you’re lucky.”

simon breathed laugh, and if you didn’t know better, you’d think the tops of his cheeks were pink. clenching and unclenching his jaw, he murmured, “lucky indeed.”

— ∘♡༉∘ —

in hindsight, believing your high school friends were capable of growing up was one of your less intelligent ideas. call it boredom or stupidity, but when a few of your old friends invited you out to the bar, you were compelled to accept.

it, unsurprisingly, went dreadfully. the first half of the night was fine — the first round of shots was purchased by one of the sweeter ones. you caught up over murky-coloured cocktails, swapping stories about your new lives and reminiscing over your old ones. the alcohol warmed your skin and loosened your limbs. the night went on and the amount of patrons doubled; you recognized a lot of them from old classes or bus rides or kindergarten friendships.

a boy from high school, one that hadn’t said a single nice thing to you in the entire four years, approached you with something that was supposed to be a smirk. you were polite at first, nodding along to his slurred words, exhaling when he attempted a joke. he dragged a hand over your thigh, and when you shifted away he easily followed. you excused yourself, muttering something about using the restroom, and he took it as an invitation.

“y’like it public, huh? never took you as the type,” he garbled, sliding off the barstool and following your movements. “i like whatever you like, baby.”

“no, i — actually need to pee,” you stated, glancing around the bar for your lost friends. he stared at you for a long minute, eyes narrowing.

“mm, fine. i’ll — i’ll pull up my car, we can head back to my place.”

“no, i—” you began, eyeing his sleazy grin and glazed-over leer. “i don’t want to go home with you. i’m not interested. i’m sorry.”

it takes a few moments for him to wrap his head around your words; each one spelled out across his face as it’s processed. finally, his expression twisted into a sneer.

“should’ve fuckin’ known not to waste my time with you,” he barked, unfocused eyes glaring daggers at you. “once a whore always a whore, huh?”

the most embarrassing part of this was the tears. you didn’t let him see them — too prideful to let them fall before you muttered a “fuck you,” and escaped out the side door.

the night air was freezing, twinged with the sharp bite of early winter. without a jacket or alcohol — you’d sobered up as soon as his hand touched your leg — to warm you, you were left hugging yourself, digging your phone out of your purse.

you could have sobbed when a red battery symbol lights up the screen, before flickering back off, dead. you just might have had you not spotted a pay-phone a few meters away.

there were only a few coins in your purse. had it not been kept for just-in-case situations like these, there would be none at all. shoving a few into the coin slot, you dial the number you’d had memorized from childhood.

it rang several times, wind whistling in your other ear, before your father’s voice stated, “sorry, can’t reach the phone. leave a message.”

a choked sound left your throat. what the hell were you supposed to do? most of your friends had split off into tiny sub-groups, and you were too ashamed to ask any of them for a ride. there was the option of asking a bartender to call a cab, though the idea of that was, for no real reason, profusely embarrassing. then, you remembered the one other phone number you’d memorized.

you don’t really know why — there was no reason for you to remember it, especially over any other phone number. yet, when he’d handed you that crumbled sheet of paper, your eyes had traced over the shapes of the numbers, and for some reason committed them to memory with no further effort.

whatever the reason was, you didn’t feel like questioning it. you were merely thankful you did. with cold fingertips, you pressed the digits into the payphone.

he picked up on the fourth ring. “who’s this?” was the greeting.

“it’s me,” you replied, and you barely were able to finish saying your name before he was cutting you off.

”what’s wrong? are you alright?”

huffing a quiet laugh, you said, “‘m fine, simon. i just—” you sighed, clutching the phone tighter in your hand. “i went out with my friends, an’ i—i’m just not having a good time. i tried to call my dad, but it’s past ten, so he’s passed out. i’m sorry—”

“where are you?” he asked, and there was a rustling in the background.

there were only a few bars in town—he knew immediately where this one was. “i’m on my way, i’ll be there in ten. are you in a safe spot, sweetheart?”

“i’m in a telephone booth. my phone died.”

“of course it did. would you be willing to go in an’ ask the bartender to use the phone?”

“no.”

“alright. okay. just stay on the line with me then, okay? d’you have any extra change, in case y’run outta minutes?”

”yeah. i should be good. i’m—listen, si, i’m really sorry—”

“if i hear that word come outta y’r mouth again we’re gonna have issues,” he said, and you laughed despite yourself. “‘m glad you called. now i’ll get t’see your pretty face.”

a girlish giggle sounded from your chest, and if it weren’t so damn cold, you might’ve been embarrassed. “i hate bars.”

“y’go to the wrong ones,” he replied. “one day i’ll take you out to one of my favourites. show you a decent drink.”

“my drinks are decent,” you argued. there was a whooshing sound on the line, and you panicked. “you’re not driving your motorcycle, are you?”

“didn’t have anything else with me,” he said. “y’got a problem with my harley, trouble?”

“your harley is a death machine.”

simon chuckled. “i’ll drive slow with you.”

“you should be driving slow now.”

another laugh. “i’ll be there in three.”

“simon!” you admonished. “you said ten!”

“that was four minutes ago.”

shaking your head, you said, “your lack of self-preservation should be studied.”

in the few seconds he took to reply, your teeth clacked together, and simon swiftly asked, “are you chattering?”

your lack of response served as one on its own, and he continued, “doll, what’re you wearing in this telephone booth?”

“um,” you started, chewing your bottom lip. “a skirt.”

“and a jacket?”

“uh.”

“christ,” he swore. “your lack of self-preservation should be studied. it’s not even 5° out.”

“jackets are a lot of work to carry around in a bar,” you argued, though you knew it was fruitless. “and i wasn’t really planning on spending any time in a telephone booth.”

“y’should always prepare for the worst,” he stated. “what if i hadn’t picked up, hm?”

“you always pick up.”

for a short moment, the other line was quiet, with only the quiet whoosh of the wind brushing past the speakers. then, “yeah, i do.”

the way he said it — so tenderly, like an admission — had any response dying on your tongue. your heart felt oddly warm, and didn’t quite know what to do with yourself, curling and uncurling the phone cord around your fingers.

“‘m here, trouble,” simon said, saving you from further awkward silence. a headlight glared against the glass of the phone booth, hallowing fingerprints and rain stains. squeaking out an, “okay,” you hung up the phone with a click and stepped out.

he was off his motorcycle already, immediately tugging off his jacket and wrapping it around your shoulders before pulling you against him.

“god, you’re a fuckin’ ice cube, sweetheart,” he said. he held you like that for a while, arms wrapped so tightly around your frame that you worried you’d morph into him. not that you minded — he was warm.

afterwards, simon cupped your cheeks, tilting your head upward as he examined you, as if you were ill or injured. furrowing his brow, he asked, “were you crying?”

you attempted to look away, ashamed, but in his grip it proved futile. “not much.”

“what happened?” he asked, and there was something in his voice, laced in the low rumble of it, that sounded threatening. it wasn’t meant for you, that was clear — he’d never direct anything hostile toward you. before he had even the barest idea of who or what made you cry, he was already furious at it.

“it’s nothing.”

“tell me,” he demanded. then, softer, “please. i just — need to know.”

moving your gaze from a far-off shape in the night towards his, you were unable to keep it from him. “i—this guy. i went to high school with him.”

a spark lit his gaze. “what’d he do?”

for a few breaths, you were quiet, trying to sort the words into something only mildly wrath-inducing. “he wanted, um, to take me home. i didn’t want to. he got upset.”

the spark caught, lighting his gaze into a furious blaze. even beneath the balaclava, you could see his jaw clench. he stepped away from you and set on a warpath toward the bar.

“simon—no,” you yelped, hurrying to catch up with him. it was a difficult task—your shoes weren’t comfortable and his long legs moved swiftly. finally, you caught his leather sleeve in your grasp. “don’t. please, don’t.”

at the sound of your voice, soft and warbled, he stopped, turning to face you once more, and whatever he saw on your face had his eyes softening.

“i don’t want to deal with him any more than i already have,” you said, staring up at him. “i just—i just want to leave. can we go to your house, please? i don’t want to be alone. i don’t want to think.”

the neon bar lights cast strange shadows across your frames, illuminating you in various bright colours as you stood, gazes caught in one another. simon seemed to fight with himself for a moment, fury and something far more tender battling for authority. the latter won out; he exhaled a long breath, hand cupping the back of your head and pulling you into him once more.

“let’s go, yeah?”

you nodded, following with your arm wrapped around his as he led you to the bike. attached to the back was an extra helmet, which he placed atop your head, adjusting it with a heady stare you couldn’t meet. the helmet smelled like pine and tobacco and vanilla and simon — it was everywhere, and you blissfully drowned in it.

when it was to his satisfaction, he tugged his gloves off and pulled them over your fingers. they were large and loose on you, and they were still warm from his skin. afterward, he pulled his own helmet back on, and held a hand out, helping you onto the back of the machine. large hands adjusted your hips, manhandling you into the right position, and it took everything in you not to make some sort of embarrassing squeak.

“okay,” he murmured, bent over your shoulder. “i’m gonna sit on the front here. you’ll have your arms wrapped around my torso, okay? and you’re not gonna let go, at all. yeah?”

you nodded. “mmhmm.”

“i need to hear your words, love.”

meeting his gaze for the briefest second, you repeated, “i won’t let go.”

“good. i won’t too fast with you, but if y’need me to pullover, just let me know, yeah?”

another nod, and this time he gave you a pointed look. “i’ll let you know,” you stated, lips just barely twitching.

with a gloved hand, simon pat your helmet and mounted the bike. after the briefest moment of hesitation, you wrapped your arms around his middle. even through the leather, he was warm; you couldn’t help but burrow a bit further into him. with merely a glance at simon, it was obvious he was built — far more than any other man you knew. to feel it beneath you, though, was an entirely separate thing. he was solid and unyielding but not harsh; a thin layer of fat kept him just soft enough.

“good girl,” he praised, patting the hands you’d entwined in front of his belly. you pressed your eager grin between his shoulders.

the motorcycle rumbled beneath you, and, slowly, he eased the gas, weaving through the tightly-crammed parking lot. just as he was about to exit the lot, he asked, above the exhaust, “you alright?”

“mmhmm,” you hummed, cheek pressed against leather. then, “yes.”

with that, he accelerated onto the road, joining the late-night traffic. the wind whistled in your ears and bit at your exposed legs; you pressed yourself further against him, and his back vibrated with the sound he made in acknowledgment. above, yellowish streetlights warmed the pavement and passing cars. gas stations and markets and various homes passed by in a colourful blur.

at a red light, while you sat still, simon’s hand came down, brushing over your knuckles in slow circles. the movement was featherlight and you wondered if it was unconscious — as soon as it flicked back to green, he moved the hand back to the handles without any acknowledgment.

the ride to his place was closer than it would have been to yours. simon lived in a small, red brick townhouse, far enough from downtown to be quiet, and close enough to access it without any hassle. he could afford better, though he opted for this because ‘it was all he needed.’ a stove to cook on, quiet neighbours, and a bed to sleep in — these were his only requirements.

steering the motorcycle beside the curb, he parked it there, and leaned backward into you. “how was that?” he asked. the world seemed strangely quiet without the hum of the engine.

“fast,” you said lamely, honestly. “not as bad as i thought, but i still prefer cars. they have walls. and heat.”

simon laughed, shaking his head. the sound echoed through his shoulders, which you were still pressed against. “when i get you a jacket i’ll make sure it’s heated.”

the idea of simon purchasing you a leather jacket to ride with him more often — it made your face heat up and your cheeks ache with a restrained grin. you were barely able to get yourself under control before he was sliding off the bike and offering a hand to you. even with his help, maneuvering your way off with mostly-numb legs was a difficult task. you just barely were able to land steady-footed on the pavement. as if simon knew this, he kept a hand on the small of your back as you walked up the steps to his home.

inside, it smelled like simon. pine, english breakfast tea, and something unique to him. the only thing missing was the stench of a cigarette; you knew he refused to smoke inside.

the decorations were minimal yet cozy; it was surprisingly neat. besides the pair he’d just kicked off, the shoes were lined up along the wall. you’d been inside very few times, and never long enough to observe. in the living room, the lamp was still on, bathing the room in warmth. there was a cup of tea on the coffee table, only a few sips left. beside it was a novel you didn’t recognize, dog-eared halfway through.

every detail felt important, like a glimpse into him. had the bar not left you feeling sticky and unkempt, you could have stayed here observing for hours. yet, your shirt felt suffocating across your chest, and the nape of your neck felt sweaty despite the earlier chill.

“um,” you began ungracefully. “do you mind if i use your shower? i feel . . . icky.”

his lips twitched at your choice of words, and he nodded. “yeah. lemme show you the bathroom, sweets.”

following him up the stairs, he directed you to the bathroom, pulling two towels out of his linen-closet. then, he said, “shower’s fuckin’ complicated. too fancy. lemme get it started for you.”

you watched as he ducked in, fiddling with buttons and knobs until steam danced over the glass doors. afterward, he looked back at you, peering at your figure. “that’s not very comfortable.”

you followed his gaze, glancing over your outfit. “well, no.”

he huffed. “i’ll get y’something of mine,” he stated, and made his way toward the door. “i’ll leave it on my bed, yeah? just down the hall. if y’need anything, sweetheart, just shout. i’ll be downstairs.”

giving a soft smile, you nodded and said, “okay. thank you, simon. really.”

“no need. i’d let y’live here if it meant never going to that fuckin’ shitehole again.”

“it wasn’t that bad of a bar.”

he gave you a dead-pan stare. “shite. hole.”

amused, you rolled your eyes, and pushed the door shut. on the other side, you heard a chuckle — the smile that bloomed on your face at the sound was unbidden.

it’d be a lie to say it didn’t feel strange to strip in simon’s house. the fact that only a few walls stood between you sent a strange thrill through you. it was in your best interest to ignore it — your heart and body had incredibly inappropriate reactions to the man, and tonight they seemed to be at an all time high.

he was being kind, nothing else.

once your clothes were peeled off and discarded on the tiled floor, you stepped into the shower. immediately, the warmth enveloped you, melting the tension out of your muscles and washing it away.

simon didn’t have much of a selection when it came to soaps. you were thankful he had a decent face wash, though — at least there were no three-in-ones.

the body wash smelled lovely — that dizzying, woodsy scent native to simon danced alongside the steam in the bathroom as you lathered it across your skin. though it was tempting to stay for longer, you didn’t want to waste too much of his water. you stepped out, and wrapped a shockingly soft towel around your abdomen.

the house was quiet when you stepped out of the restroom, clothes collected in your hands as you padded toward simon’s bedroom. this was the one room you hadn’t yet seen, though you could have predicted quite a bit of it. neat, minimal decorations. a king-sized bed because anything smaller wouldn’t fit him. folded atop were joggers and a sweatshirt.

it wasn’t a surprise you had to roll up the pant legs until they were ridiculously cuffed at the bottom. the sight of yourself in the mirror made you snort; you were drowning in simon’s clothes. butterflies swarmed your tummy, too—you were in his clothes, like you belonged to him. the train of thought was dangerous, you quickly looked away.

exiting his bedroom, you heard a quiet, continuous popping sound. padding down the stairs, you followed it into the kitchen where simon stood, collecting a bit of butter and a salt shaker.

though your steps were quiet, simon’s eyes were on you before you even stepped inside the room. his gaze swept your figure, dwarfed in his clothes, lingering just long enough for you to catch it before he was shifting it away, jaw twitching beneath his balaclava.

after a moment too long, he said, “hey, trouble.” his voice was low. “making popcorn. there’s tea.” he gestured with his chin to the counter where two mugs sat, one of which you’d gifted to him nearly three years ago now. a black cat was painted on the front, a grumpy expression wrinkling it’s little face (“it reminds me of you,” you’d said). in a significantly less interesting mug was your tea, several shades lighter than his black.

“thank you,” you murmured against the lip of the glass, wincing slightly when a sip burned your tongue.

“do you—” he began, taking the popcorn out of the microwave and pouring it into a bowl. “how’s a movie sound?”

you grinned. “it sounds lovely.”

“there’re dvds in the cupboard out there,” he explained, sifting the butter and salt through the popcorn. “take your pick.”

a snort. “why am i not surprised you still use dvds?”

simon raised a brow. “i spend half my life in barracks. netflix is a scam, love.”

“sure,” you said, grinning impishly. “grandpa.”

despite your teasing, his movie collection was vast. a lot of them you hadn’t heard of, though you picked out a familiar one, presenting him with your choice when he joined you in the living room.

“diehard, hm?” he gave a crooked smile. “tis the season, i suppose. you have good taste, sweetheart.”

“i know,” you stated proudly. “but you should keep complimenting me.”

simon huffed a laugh, and placed the disc in the dvd player. “i already feed your ego too much.”

making yourself comfortable on his couch, you agreed, “you really do.” then, when he procured a blanket and draped it across your lap, you snorted. “this isn’t helping.”

placing the popcorn between you, simon tugged off his balaclava and shoved a few pieces in his mouth, saying, “sorry, sweets. can’t help it.” his smile was lopsided and boyish, charming. the tv flickered on, basking the room in a blueish glow, before simon clicked ‘play’ on the movie.

together, you watched the opening scenes of the movie. a few jokes were muttered back and forth, but, other than that and the sounds of the film, it was quiet. the popcorn was delicious, lathered in an unhealthy amount of butter and salt, you shovelled it into your mouth.

the tea, too, was lovely. warm and sweet, and, combined with the comfort of simon’s presence, you were sleepily lulling back into the plush couch. with low eyelids, you tried to make yourself comfortable, manoeuvring your body this way and that. huffing, you stared down at the couch, searching for a decent position, when you spotted simon’s lap.

all muscled and soft, he’d make the perfect pillow. would he mind? you sincerely doubted he would. it was innocent, after all. you simply wanted to relax. the only one it might be awkward for was you, and if you could get past your stupid crush for a single hour, it’d be perfect.

after one more moment of doubt, you stretched yourself out and hesitantly laid your head on simon’s lap. beneath you, he tensed for a moment, and you just about thought you’d fucked everything up before he relaxed back into the couch. a large hand made a home on your back, running soothingly up and down your spine.

laying against simon like this — it was so peaceful. your mind hushed to a low hum as you nestled further into him, eyes trained on the screen. his fingers trailed upward, tracing a pattern on the nape of your neck and returning south.

the movie was entertaining, though you felt yourself slipping into sleep. occasionally, simon’s fingers would slip over a ticklish slip of skin, and you’d shiver, causing him to exhale a chuckle.

slowly, as your mind quieted, so did the sound of the film, until it was an unintelligible mumble. the world started and ended with simon’s thighs beneath your cheek, and his hand against your shoulders.

against your eyelids, the screen was bright, lighting them up uncomfortably. huffing sleepily, you pressed your face into simon’s lap, burrowing further in an attempt to make yourself comfortable. beneath you, something firm prodded against your cheek, and at once you were very awake.

simon, suddenly, stiffened. the hand on your back halted, fingers hovering over your skin before dropping away completely. “oh, fuck—christ, sweetheart, i’m so sorry. i’ll drive you home, okay? or—i’ll call a cab, if you’d rather that—”

“simon.” the word was firm enough to catch his attention, quieting him if only for a moment. your mind swam—a mess of confusion, lust, excitement, and need. when it proved too difficult to sift through, too impossible to cohere, you voiced the one word you could manage:

“please.”

despite the long-forgotten movie being your only source of light, the reaction simon had was the clearest you’d ever seen. his breath hitched, chest rising and falling rapidly. his gaze, so dilated it was almost entirely black, narrowed on your face. it darted between your features, like he was searching for some sort of hidden meaning in your words, like he didn’t quite believe you.

in retaliation, your hand, trembling only slightly, came up and grazed the too-large tent in his trousers. immediately simon’s hand gripped your wrist, squeezing his eyes shut and inhaling sharply.

“kid—” he said then, and the word was wrapped in molten heat. it was gravelly in a way you’d never heard before, a rumble in his chest. goosebumps broke out along your skin. “don’t start something you’ll regret.”

“i’m not,” you stated bravely, daringly. you adjusted your position, only to face him better, and he did not let go of your wrist. you hoped he couldn’t feel the rapid thrum of your pulse beneath his thumb. “please, simon. i want this. i’ve wanted this.”

that snagged on something in his brain; caught his attention and held it. he stared at you, intense as ever. behind his gaze was a dilemma; a war you could only see traces of. after a few suffocatingly long moments spent beneath heavy tension, something won out, and the grip on your wrist loosened.

immediately, with years of want behind your touch, you grazed your hand over his clothed length once more. the breath in your chest stuttered when you grasped it, feeling just how big he was beneath your fingers.

a sound rumbled in simon’s chest; a groan of sorts. exploratorily, you tilted your head down, holding his burning gaze as you brushed your lips over his trousers.

“fuck,” simon cursed, hand grasping the back of your skull. he didn’t push or move you at all; he simply held it there, like he couldn’t bare to not be touching you himself.

the button of his trousers was difficult to undo with shaking hands, but you managed, pulling down his fly barely seconds after. with uneven breaths, you delved beneath the band of his briefs, pulling him up and out of the fabric.

the sight of simon’s cock was enough to get you off on it’s own; too thick for one of your hands to wrap around it, long enough that it bobbed against his shirt as you stared, too entranced for embarrassment. he was uncut, and there was a mound of curly, dirty-blond hair at the base, trimmed just enough to stay out of the way. you exhaled, breath ghosting along his length. the grip simon had on you tightened

again, you looked up at him. simon’s gaze was unwavering, as if looking away was some sin he was too pious to commit. it was then, as he gazed down at you with a burning gaze, that he seemed to read something in your expression. a pleading, a search for guidance. whatever it was, it had him speaking. “go ahead, sweet girl. get y’mouth on me.”

like his words triggered some sort of instinctual response in your body, your mouth was immediately moving. you licked a long, languid stripe from base to tip, revelling in the warm, salty taste. then, your lips wrapped around the head, suckling slightly before descending another inch.

“fuck,” he cursed again, hand moving in soothing circles against the back of your skull. “good fuckin’ girl. such a good listener, aren’t you?“

the words pulled a whimper from your throat. you released his dick for the briefest moment, a string of saliva connecting you, before wrapping your lips around him again, hollowed cheeks taking as much as you could manage. the fact that it was only half was disappointing.

“christ, angel. y’mouth is — heaven. fuck.” the choked sound of his voice only emphasized his point. when you made another noise, something between a whimper and a whine, he chuckled, and said, “like me talking to you like that? telling you how good you are? fuck, y’re so sweet. my sweet girl.”

moaning against him, you attempted to take more. betrayed by your gag reflex, you pulled back, choking, eyes glistening with tears.

simon cooed, hands cupping your jaw and thumb brushing over your cheek, wiping away a tear that’d escaped. “oh, angel, y’don’t need to take so much so fast. you’re doing so well. lemme show you. is that okay? can i help you?”

swallowing the excess drool in your mouth, you nodded, and his eyes crinkled with a smile as he pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“words, love.” though his voice was soft, it was a command. “thought i taught you this already.”

“please,” you whispered. “show me how,” his face was close enough to see the thin wrinkles around his eyes, the soft dusting of a five o’clock shadow over his jaw. “wanna make you feel good.”

simon’s lips curved before they pressed against yours, all gentle and soft like you’d break if he were any rougher. it was inebriating to be treated so reverently, hands holding your jaw like you were something precious. simon made you feel like you were.

his lips moved languidly. he took control of it easily, guiding your lips with his own. he didn’t escalate it, didn’t shove his tongue into your mouth like so many other boys had. he kissed like he found pleasure in this alone.

arms tangling around his neck, you gently ran your nails over the nape of his neck, where fabric met skin. simon groaned, softly nipping at your bottom lip. you giggled.

as much as you adored this — you’d kiss simon for hours if he’d let you — you were getting impatient. you’d gotten a taste for him, and you were quickly becoming addicted.

when you pulled away, he let you, stare darting between your kiss-swollen lips and glazed-over eyes. he watched your gaze trail back down to his crotch, and chuckled quietly.

“eager thing, aren’t you?” he questioned, leaning in to press one last kiss to the corner of your mouth. “go ahead, trouble.”

you didn’t need to be told twice — keeping your head on his lap, you laid out on your belly, across the couch. his hand found your head again, and this time, he gently guided you forward, allowing your lips to find his cock once more.

“that’s it, love,” he murmured. he had you stay like that for a while, suckling contentedly on the head and lapping your tongue over his slit.

“if y’need to come up for air, tap my thigh, alright?” he instructed. you nodded, before correcting yourself, allowing him to slip from your mouth only to voice, “okay.”

simon exhaled, the sound shaking towards the end as your long laved the underside of the head. “good fuckin’ girl.”

though you’d blown guys before, this — simon — was different. something about him, his scent or the sound of his voice or simply his presence, created a haze that had your mind going cloudy. with your lips wrapped tightly around his cock, your world started and ended with simon riley.

little by little, he inched you down his cock. never too quick and never too much. in that moment, he seemed to know your body better than you. always stopping just before your gag reflex was triggered, just before your limit was reached.

“look at you, breathing outta your nose. you’re a natural.”

your breathy moan vibrated against simon’s cock; his thighs tensed, though he didn’t buck his hips or push you down. he continued his languid pace, inching you down only when you could handle it.

“so good,” he muttered. at this point you’d taken more than half of of him. breathing steadily out of your nose, you used a spare hand to grip the remaining length, pumping it in time with your mouth. “fuck. ah, angel, ‘m gonna cum if you keep tha’ up.”

spurred on, you hollowed your cheeks and took another inch, blinking away tears. his pelvis barely a few centimeters from your nose, now, and with one last deep breath, you swallowed back the rest of his cock.

“fucking christ—!” simon swore, pulling you off of him as gently as he could manage. you sputtered, coughing and sniffling as tears ran freely from your eyes.

“oh, none of that now, love,” he cooed, big hands cradling your jaw as he kissed away your tears.

“did i do something wrong?” you asked. your voice was raw.

“no, no. of course not, love. you could never do anything wrong,” he stated, pressing a lingering kiss to your hairline. then, he chuckled, warm breath ghosting along your skin. “‘m not as young as i used to be, pretty girl. ‘n if i’m finishing tonight, i want it to be in this sweet cunt.” to make his point, he cupped you over your panties, which had become embarrassingly wet over the last bit. sensitive, you whimpered, curling further into him and grinding down. “how’s that sound, hm? y’gonna let me fill y’up?”

vehemently, you nod, gripping the wrist that’d snuck up your skirt for support. “please. yeah, yeah. i want that, si.”

with shaking hands, you gripped the bottom of your top in an attempt to yank it off. swiftly, simon stopped you, one hand large enough to catch the both of yours. “mm-mm. if ‘m gonna fuck you, ‘m gonna do it proper. y’deserve better than a shitty couch, dove.”

in the next breath, you were swept up into simon’s arms, legs wrapped tightly around his torso. a high-pitched squeak escaped you and tapered into a laugh as he carried you up the stairs, towards his bedroom.

“such a gentleman,” you joked, toying with the collar of his shirt.

“i try’,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your palm when it cupped his jaw.

after closing the door behind him, simon gently dropped you on the bed. you giggled as you bounced, bracing yourself on your elbows and looking up at him. for a moment, simon stood, gaze locked on your frame, fists clenching and unclenching at his sides.

“fucking hell,” he cursed, finally. “you’re a dream.”

“a dream?” you echoed, grin simpering into a smirk. “y’been dreamin’ about me, riley?”

in a single, fluid motion, simon tugged his shirt off. he was a mass of muscle, age just barely softening his edges. tattoos ran up his arms and across most of his chest, where hair the same shade as his happy trail grew.

“‘course i have,” he answered, like it was obvious. then, he kicked off his slippers and fit himself between your legs, arms bracing himself just inches above you. “making me act like a fucking teenager again, wakin’ up to wet boxers.”

the thought of simon having wet dreams about you made your head spin. dumbly, you blinked up at him, and found yourself unimpressed with the balaclava still covering the upper-half of his face.

“can i?” you asked, voice quiet enough you wondered if he’d even be able to hear it. his small smile, though, gave him away. he nodded.

little by little, you rolled the offending material upward, revealing every mesmerizing inch of his face. tossing it to the side, you took a long moment to admire him: the long blond lashes, the sloping scars, the light spattering of freckles, his crooked nose.

“y’so pretty,” you stated, honestly. rose blossomed across his cheeks and nose, leaving you with a wide grin. simon pressed a kiss behind your ear, though you had a sneaking suspicion it was to hide his face.

“think that’s supposed t’be my line, love,” simon replied, gently nipping your throat. as you giggled, he continued downward, kisses growing sloppier as they reached your collarbones. then, he pulled back, fingers slipping over the hem of your shirt. he met your gaze for a brief second, searching for the permission you’d always give him, and tugged it off.

left in only the lacy scrap the lingerie shop deemed a bra, simon stated openly at you. this time, it was your turn to squirm, hands instinctively reaching to hide your face. easily, he caught your wrists.

“no. no. i wanna see you,” he said, squeezing your arms once. “cover your face and i stop, alright?”

huffing, you kept your hands at your side, and he twitched his lips. afterward, he smoothed large hands across your skin, over your stomach and ribs, cupping your chest. “so gorgeous.” he squeezed. “fuckin’ hate the idea of you going out in somethin’ like this when i’m not with you. no more. if y’wearin’ this, it’s for me, yeah? no one else.”

biting your lip, you nodded, not trusting your voice enough to speak. simon disagreed with your decision, seeing as he pinched your side. “no one else,” you affirmed.

“good girl.” he drew out the words, eyes trained on your chest, before he was reaching behind and unclamping your bra with his fingers. sliding it off, he tossed it haphazardly into the growing pile of clothes on his floor.

simon wasted no time in resuming his assault on your skin, leaving a kiss here and a bite there. he swirled his tongue over your tits, paying special attention to your nipples, playing with one while he had his mouth on the other. little marks littered your saliva-soaked skin when he reached the top of your skirt.

one more glance at you and he was tugging it down, along with the flimsy nylons you’d worn. swiftly, he pressed an open-mouthed kissed to your cloth-covered cunt, easily keeping your hips down when they tried to buck.

the air was cold against your soaked cunt when he peeled back the fabric, pulling it over your ankles and discarding it on the floor. as had become his habit, simon took a moment to admire you. eyes blazing and turning the skin beneath it warm. your hands fisted the blankets as you resisted the urge to cover up.

“so pretty,” he said, moving backward down the bed and climbing off it. then, he tugged you with him, earning a tiny yelp, before kneeling at the end of it. “wanted t’taste you for fucking ever. y’gonna let me, sweetheart? hm? you gonna let me taste your sweet cunt?”

nodding, you squeezed your eyes shut and breathed, “please, simon.”

his fingers, warm and steady, trailed up your thighs, pulling a shiver from you. “spread your legs a little wider for me, baby. there y’go. good.” then, slowly, they inched towards your centre, spreading you open. you didn’t have to look to know he was staring.

all at once, his tongue was on you, licking a long stripe up your folds and over your clit. you moaned embarrassingly loudly, trailing off into a long whine when he didn’t let up. your fingers knitted themselves in his blond waves, tugging as gently as you could manage. he groaned in approval, the sound vibrating through your cunt and sending your back arching.

“fuck! simon,” you yelped. his hands held your legs apart when they attempted to close, overwhelmed by pleasure.

he slipped away from your heat only to say, “keep sayin’ my name.”

whining, you pushed his head back into you, and he chuckled, resuming his ministrations on your cunt. simon was talented with his tongue — something jealous burned you at the thought of how he got so good. the thought was quickly scrubbed from your brain, though, when he flicked the tip of his tongue over your clit, circling it once, twice, before descending again.

“please,” you whined, though you didn’t know what you were asking for. his pace had slowed, now, sloppily making out with your cunt like it was something he could worship. “simon . . . ”

the pleasure was inescapable; your body was torn between grinding down on his mouth and trying to wriggle away from it. it didn’t help that he was doing it so leisurely; tongue moving languidly through your folds and over your clit like it was for his pleasure instead of yours. that thought got you off all the more.

your legs trembled, winding around simon’s head and damn near suffocating him — not that he cared. when you glanced down, he was watching you, nose shiny as it brushed against your clit. simon smirked — you could feel the movement against you.

had you been in any other state, the sound you made as you tumbled over the edge might have embarrassed you. as it was, though, you didn’t have the mind for anything other than pleasure as your back bowed off the bed and your legs tightened around simon’s skull.

he was saying something — you only understood bits of it, but it sounded like a mindless litany of praise. “there you are, there we go. so good, so fucking good.”

he paired each praise with a kiss to your cunt until you were trembling from overstimulation, just pushing past the edge of too much. simon climbed up the bed and pressed wet kisses across your face; when he licked into your mouth and you tasted yourself, you moaned.

“you’re a fuckin’ vision, sweetheart. never knew you’d cum so pretty. y’gonna let me see it again? hm? y’gonna let me fuck you, baby?”

you were nodding before the words were even out of his mouth, snaking your arms around his neck and kissing him deeply. without breaking it for longer than a few seconds, simon moved the two of you further up the bed until your head rested against his surprisingly soft pillows.

simon groaned appreciatively when your nails scraped against his skull. you grinned, and breathed, “you like pain just as much as me.”

simon chuckled, biting your chin. “maybe. when it’s you.”

“what was that you said earlier? something ‘bout feeding my ego?”

another laugh, and he joked, “i’m too far gone, now, i think. i’m just here to serve.”

“prove it.” your lips curved into a lust-drunk smile. “fuck me.”

with one last peck against your lips, simon smirked, and said, “yes ma’am.”

he leaned over you, then, tugging open the creaky drawer to his bedside table and fishing around. “shit.”

“hm?” you hummed, following his gaze to the foil packet between his fingers.

“‘s fuckin’ expired.” simon’s brow furrowed, and he brought the packet closer, squinting. you grabbed it from him, tossing it on the floor.

“i don’t care,” you said, probably stupidly, but the thought of not fucking simon right now had something foul twisting in your belly. “want you.”

running broad hands over your legs, simon gazed down at you, like your expression would say otherwise. you rolled your eyes. “i’m clean. i’m assuming you’re clean, if your condoms are expired.” simon pinched your side, and you giggled. ”please? want you to fuck me, simon.”

simon exhaled, and shook his head, smirking. “yeah?” he asked, fingers trailing over your belly. “y’want me to fuck you? cum in this little cunt?”

“yeah, yeah. please. want that.”

his lips press against yours again, hands continuing their journey downward until he was exploring your sensitive folds. you whimpered, quietly, but simon caught the sound and tutted. “i know, sweets. but i’ve gotta stretch you. don’t wanna hurt you, right? not tonight.”

lubing his fingers up with your slick, he started with his middle, circling your hole before slowly pushing inward. your earlier orgasm had relaxed you already, and he was able to add a second in no time. he explored for a moment, pumping his fingers in and out, curling them upward until he found that spongy spot that had your head rolling back in pleasure.

“there it is,” he said, and though your eyes were squeezed shut, you felt his smirk against your skin; heard it in his voice. “that feel good, pretty?”

the answering nod you gave was shaky and sudden, hands gripping onto his forearm for dear life. “fuck me, si. please—want your cock.”

“i know, i know. one more finger, how about that? then we can give you what you need.”

with a groan, you nodded, and sent him a short glare. he snorted, and muttered, “so impatient.”

“been waiting for fucking years,” you argued, though your point might’ve been lost in the quiver of your voice. “‘m allowed to be a little impatient.”

“years, hm?” his third finger prodded at your entrance. “guess i should hurry, then. poor thing.”

the way you dug your nails into his skin was both in pleasure and retaliation. three thick fingers pumped slowly in and out of you, curling in a way that had your thighs shaking.

finally, he slipped the fingers from you, the whine you gave turning into a moan when he plunged them into his mouth instead, savouring every bit of you. “so fuckin’ sweet.”

when simon’s fat tip ran through your folds, you tensed, and questioned if three fingers would really be enough. “simon . . . ”

though his voice was strained, he stopped, glancing up at you. “yeah, sweetheart?”

“i don’t—” his tip ran over your clit ”—fuck, i don’t know if you’ll fit.”

simon tsked, the hand not controlling his cock coming up to brush the hair out of your face. “don’t gimme that, sweets. you can take it, i know you can.” he kissed your jaw. “i’ll make it fit, yeah? how’s that?”

shakily, you exhaled, meeting his gaze. truly, you didn’t know if it’d wavered from your face all night. his eyes were so sure — you could do nothing but believe him. it’d fit. you nodded.

“yeah, yeah. there’s my girl.” again, his lips were on yours, tongue licking into your mouth. minty toothpaste, tea, and cigarettes overwhelmed your senses as his thick tip pushed inside, swallowing every moan you gave.

when he’d made it a few inches, simon pulled back. “how’s that?” he questioned. “y’okay, lovey? want me to keep going?”

you couldn’t nod fast enough. there was a bit of pain, but the pleasure of the stretch won out easily. tangling your hands in his hair, you yanked simon back down for a long, messy kiss. really, it was more so a clash of teeth and tongue and heavy breathing than a kiss, but you digress.

by the time simon was fully sheathed inside you, it felt like he was in your fucking lungs. he gave you as much time as you needed to adjust, though the way his fists clenched and unclenched beside your head proved how greatly he wanted to move. digging one of the legs wrapped around him further into his skin, you urged him to.

“fucking christ,” he groaned. simon dropped his head for a moment, hot breath fanning over your neck as he slowly rocked in and out. “y’so fucking tight.”

“m’not tight, you’re just huge,” you argued, a furrow in your brow. simon bit the juncture between your throat and shoulder—you giggled, the sound delirious.

propping himself up on his forearms once more, simon slowly pulled out, leaving only his tip inside of you, before swiftly thrusting back in, setting a harsh, steady pace.

little high-pitched sounds came from your chest with every thrust, cock abusing that spongy spot inside you that lit fireworks behind your eyelids. with the way you were clawing at his back, you’d be surprised if simon didn’t look like he was mauled by a wildcat tomorrow.

“so good. gripping me like a fuckin’ vice. swear it was like you were made for me,” he breathed, teeth grazing over your ear.

sense had long since left you — you only nodded, murmuring back, “for you, f’you.”

maybe the way his cock kissed your cervix would have you cursing tomorrow, maybe the way your back bowed with pleasured tension would have you hunching over in the morning — you didn’t care. right now, your world consisted of simon’s searing brown eyes and the toe-curling pleasure he supplied.

“feels so good.” your words were breathy, punctuated with a tug to his hair.

“yeah?” he questioned, smiling lopsidedly. “good. gonna fucking ruin you. you’ll never be able to take another cock without thinking of me—thinking of how good i made you feel.”

shaking your head, you whines, “no. no one else. only you.”

simon growled, thrusting especially hard as he licked and sucked at your throat. “yeah. you’re mine, aren’t you? my girl.”

“yours,” you nodded. “‘m yours, f’rever.”

simon groaned out a slew of curses, cock twitching inside of you. one hand reached down toy with your clit, making quick, slippery circles. “want you to cum again, baby. ‘m not gonna last much longer and — fuck — i need t’see it again.”

you’d already been dancing along the edge — his thick fingers and raspy words were a harsh push, leaving you dangling by one hand.

your eyes rolled back into your head, and his other hand was swiftly gripping your chin, gently shaking you. “on me, love, keep y’r eyes on me.”

with great effort, you kept your hazy gaze on his face, which was twisted in the effort to stave off his orgasm. you whimpered, and murmured, “say it again. say i’m yours. please.”

“oh, sweetheart,” he groaned, head dipping into the crook of your neck for a moment before finding your eyes again. “you’re mine, ain’t ya? my sweet girl. yeah. an’ i’m yours — always will be.”

the second the words left his mouth, you tumbled over the edge. your entire body shook, curving inward and wrapping itself around simon like it was trying to burrow inside him. in the haze of it, you heard simon shout, before warmth was spilling inside your cunt, filling you up to the fucking brim. if simon wasn’t simon, you were sure the grip you had on him would’ve broken something by now.

when you came back to, the world was quiet — soft breathing echoed through your ears, his and yours indistinguishable from each other. simon’s head was buried in your neck, the weight of him just bridging the edge of uncomfortable. it was bliss.

eventually, he rolled over, cock pulling out with an equally disgusting and enticing squelch. his spend leaked out of you, dirtying his sheets. neither of you minded, it seemed — he easily pulled you across his chest, pressing his lips to your warm forehead.

“y’with me, lovie?” his voice was barely more than a murmur.

you hummed, hand moving upward to trace over his sweat-soaked chest. “i think so.”

a quiet laugh vibrated in his chest, breath dancing across your face. you smiled in turn, crooking your neck to gaze at him. keeping in theme with the rest of the night, simon was already staring at you — his eyes seemed to shine when they found yours, and his lips curled up in a rare smile. you were met with the embarrassing urge to take a picture.

“you’re a mess,” he stated, chuckling quietly as his eyes darted across your face and body.

narrowing your eyes, you pinched his pec, and his chuckle became a laugh. “a beautiful mess, sweetheart. ‘s the prettiest you’ve ever looked, i promise.”

you rolled your eyes, and argued, “‘s your fault.” then, attempted to sit up — though his strong grip on your shoulder kept you down. simon frowned. “where d’you think you’re going?”

“i need to pee,” you stated, and he let you up with a huff. “then i need to fucking shower, again.”

simon made a sound. “how ‘bout i run you a bath, hm? lemme do the work.”

smiling softly, you glanced back at him. he took your hand that lingered on his chest and brought it to his mouth, pressing kisses over your knuckles. “that’d be lovely.”

simon stood, and when you looked over him, you smiled. hair mussed, lips swollen, skin glazed in sweat — he was just as much of a mess as you. in a single movement, simon swept you into his arms. with a yelp, you clung to him, and he carried you, bridal-style, into the bathroom.

placing you on the lip of the bathtub, simon left for only a moment to dig through his linen closet, and returned with a wash cloth. after running it under warm water in the sink, he helped you up once more and gently ran it between your legs.

afterward, while you used the restroom, simon ran the bath, using that intoxicating body-wash as bubble bath. spotting his back, which was covered in bright-red scratches, you giggled, feeling only a little bad.

“i’d say sorry for y’back, but really i look no better,” you stated. hickies and bite-marks littered your skin, decorating your neck, chest, and thighs.

snorting, simon moved to look in the mirror, eyes tracing the pinkish abrasions trailing from shoulders to spine. “i’ll wear ‘em with pride.”

once the tub had filled, steam dancing around the mound of bubbles, simon, again, helped you up. his skin was warm, and if the bath wasn’t so enticing, you’d be tempted to stay here, pressed against him.

easily, he lifted you up and into the bath, following you not long afterward. it was a shock he could fit all of his limbs in the tub, even moreso when you could fit between his legs. it was a bit squishy, but you couldn’t have traded it for anything — laying against his chest while his hands ran up and down your body. thighs, stomach, chest, arms — he touched you softly, reverently, lips pressing behind your ear.

“did you mean it?” you asked. the quiet hum of your voice seemed loud in the silence of the room.

“mean what, love?”

swallowing, you played with his fingers, and supplied, “that ‘m yours. that you’re mine.”

simon exhaled, and you could feel the small curve of his lips against the back of your neck. “i meant it.”

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mxiaogod · 2 years ago

Text

— 15. [FANTOMĂ] GHOST / SIMON RILEY X FEM! AFAB READER

WARNING : MANHANDLING, DEGRADATION, PRAISE, FEAR PLAY, DOUBLE PENETRATION, KNIFE PLAY, BONDAGE, SPIT PLAY, MASK KINK, IMPACT PLAY, OVERSTIMULATION, BLOOD, PRIMAL PLAY, SIZE KINK, DARK CONTENT! NSFW, (DNI IF YOU AREN’T 18+)

A/N : The story will be substantially altered, and certain portions may not be linked to the original lore of COD. I do not play the game, nor am I educated in the military field; this is simply self indulgent. ALL OF THIS ARE A WORK OF FICTION AND IS LABELED AS DARK CONTENT, PROCEED WITH CAUTION.

And a big thank you for 342 followers.💐

— Ghosts are a tale, a haunting narrative; some may find them symbolic, but they are essentially a mental construct; some may believe in them, while others do not. They are terrifying, instilling fear in the hearts of those who cross them.

Your trembling fingers grasp the firm soil beneath you, gripping it with might. The thumping of your heart synchronizes with the heaves of your chest, under your nails are caked with dirt, twigs and dead leaves entangling with your hair. You’ve been running for what felt like hours now, you’ve fallen and got back on the soles of your bare feet more times than you can count, your frail fingers grazing the tender bruises trailing down your thighs as you try to ignore the constant throbbing in your skull.

A twig snapping causes your head to snap up, wintry wands, waved by nature's hand, take on a bold black silhouette in silvery air; a sob caught in your throat. You get up by the palms of your hands, sliding your back up against the tree as you run, tears blurring your vision by the sheer fear that has its grip in your heart. Multiple debris has dug into your foot but you paid no attention. Through the dance of fog, the twirl of mist, a small, cozy cabin sits atop of firm land, big enough to play cat and mouse with whoever is running after you. You immediately seek shelter, your frail body slamming the aging, oak door. You slam it shut, pushing an old book case to block the door with whatever strength you had left.

You grab ahold of the ends of your dress, wet from the rain and caked with mud, wringing it with your hands. You start to look around, a measly wooden chair and table sits on the corner, spotlighted by the moonlight, book shelves after book shelves that are littered with rubbish. Your feet thud against the wooden floor as you near the lone desk. A wall of newspapers, pages torn from magazines and books are slacked onto the peeling walls. You grab one that piqued your interest, ripping it off the wall and reading it with trembling fingers.

As you take in the information, a prickling sensation by your nape alerts your senses, tears brimming your eyes as your gut drops. The paper crinkled in your hand as you fell to your knees. “No, no, no!”

“Found you.” Strong arms held you by your armpits, lifting you into the air. A scream tore from your throat, pain spiraling up to your spine by being slammed onto a shelf. “Fuck! What do you want from me, please let me go!-” You were interrupted by a pointer finger touching your cold lips, “Shh” he said. You finally had the courage to open your eyes, widening as you were faced with a man bigger than you, his face concealed in a skull mask, eyes blown with primality. Your mind, hazed from previous events, is confused by the calmness emanating from him, but the danger was overpowering.

Your whimpers subside as tears lick the flesh of your cheeks. He brings you into the bathroom, tying your arms to the shower head with a crimson rope he picked up on the way.

He steps back and admires his work as your chest heaves from the intakes of air, nervousness and fear wrapping it hands and gripping your throat, along with your heart.

"What did I say, hm?" He inquires gently, his deep voice rumbling deep within his chest. He's so large that you had to bend your head back to face him. As a display of defiance, you shake your head and purse your lips.

“I asked you a question, love.” He repeats, “To- To stop roaming these forests.” you respond, voice steadying. “Right, and you didn’t listen.” you can’t help but feel ashamed for defying him at his disappointed tone. “You said I can’t be here because there are dangerous people around, but you’re lying, I haven’t seen anyone around, except you.”

“Exactly.” His tone is gruff as he tears your dress off down the middle, ridding you of clothes except your underwear. You gasp and cross your leg, tugging your arms down in an attempt to cover yourself.

“You look so beautiful like this, all filthy and afraid.” As his fingers caress the apple of your cheeks. You flinch from his touch, turning your face to the side. “You scared of me love?” he says, almost humorously. “Isn’t that the reason you come here, everynight? To come see me? Because you know you’ll only get that fear you crave from me.”

“Does it make you wet, knowing that people fear me? Knowing that you’re the only one who has gotten close enough?” He chastises, “Your curiosity will get you in danger, my love.” Your stomach caves, thighs pressing together as you try to resist the nature of your very being. You tried, tried to resist the chase, the thrill, the fear that this man has brought to you, but it had gotten so addicting, so inhabitable to the point you live and breath for it.

You tell yourself that it’s wrong, so wrong to be living like this, living with threats behind, chasing after you but you couldn’t resist the temptation, couldn’t stay away from him, so raw and untouched.

His face had gotten closer, you could feel his hot breath on your cheek through his balaclava, your lips part open as you welcome all the ugly parts of him, all the sick and twisted elements that you’re willing to take from him, and he knows that with how you bare yourself to him, like an offering to a god. “Please.” One word was enough for him to kiss your lips through his mask, your hips immediately rutting against his thigh. “I’m going to fuck you til’ sunrise.”

His big hands grip the plush of your hips, helping you to tilt your hips back and forth in his thick thighs until he sees you forming a wet spot on his combat pants. “Look at that, grinding on my thigh like a little slut. My little slut.” He moves high thigh away, and you give him a desperate whine in return.

A sharp, glinting metal trails from your sternum, to your hips, a sharp cry escaping from your lips as it digs through skin, just light enough to leave a scar. The knife moves to the side of your hips, tearing through the thin fabric of your underwear, baring your swollen cunt to him.

He circles your clit with the rubber handle of his knife, spelling his name, you couldn't decipher it with your hazy mind, pleasure rolling off in waves. He trails it back up your torso, your slick sticking to your skin. “Spit on it.” He instructs and you do, sticking out your tongue and letting your saliva drip into the handle while maintaining eye contact. Your arousal and your saliva mix together as he inserts the handle into your cunt, your legs automatically widening to welcome his assault. “Feel so good” you moan through heaving breaths, he smiles under his skull mask, kneeling down on his knees as he lifts half of his mask, exposing his red lips, parted open and wet with his saliva as he sucks your clit into his hot mouth. You throw your head back, hips gyrating on his face as the knife pumps in and out of you, his hands that grips the sharp end of the knife, digging into it, his crimson blood trailing down his forearm dripping down his elbow onto the bathroom floor. Your eyebrows knit and your eyes close in pleasure, your hips shaking from the stimulation. He spits into your clit as he rubs it with his other hand, his eye trained on your face, there’s nothing he loves more than seeing your face contort with pleasure.

“Look down so you can see how I’m on my knees for you, bleeding and desperate to taste you, look and cum for me.” He stated firmly, you trail your eyes down and meet him and it was a sight you’ll never forget, pleasure climbs up your spine, coursing through your veins, consuming you whole.

“That’s it, scream for me, sounds so beautiful.” You come down from your high, head lolling to the side. He nips and sucks you clean until he’s satisfied, “That’s my good pussy, yes it is.” He coos. .

He stands back up, throwing his knife to the side as he turns you around, the rope twisting harder into your wrist as you wail in pain. His combat boots kick your left feet to the side, widening your legs for him. He grabs ahold of your waist, his other hand pressing down your lower back, arching you beautifully.

He presses his hips into your bare ass, humping and thrusting as he releases groans beside your ear, you bite your lips as you thrust back, his movements getting harsher and harsher until you hear him zip his pants down, hurriedly taking his cock out.

You look back at him, stroking his cock, standing tall with his tip swollen and dripping with pre cum, veins bulging as he grabs himself at the base, his hips rutting into his palm. “Please- want it so bad.” You plead, throwing your ass back onto his hips as he catches it with his palm, steadying you as he guides the head in. “Fuck-”

“Does that feel good?” He asks as he pulls out, and thrust back in. “Oh I bet it does.” He pants as he thrusts his hips, making you take the entirety of his length. A beaded chain, wraps around your thighs, his hand curling against it as you feel it embed into your skin, the chain dangles as he fucks into you, his dog tag.

“Fuck, it’s too much, can’t anymore-” as your hands push his pelvic back.

Smack!

“You’ll take it because I said so.” He said, thrusting harder, tilting his hips as he repeatedly hits your g-spot. “This is for doing a good job.” He whispers, wet lips ghosting the shell of your ear. You feel him spit into his hands, his thumb circling your puckered hole as he inserts it inch by inch, “And this is for being a good girl.”

“Gonna cum, gonna cum-” You warn as your head falls back onto his shoulder, he lifts both your legs up, lifting you as he continues to chase his high, his cock bulging out your stomach.

“So good love, so good, fuck, cum with me- now.” His ragged moan beside your ear pushed you to the edge, pussy clenching on his girthy length. His hot cum fills your pussy, your eyes rolling back, saliva dripping into the side of your mouth from the immense pleasure.

You feel your arms loosen, as he unties the rope that binds your hand.

“Care for a bath?” He whispers, rubbing his warm hands on your lower back as he carries you bridal style.

“What’s your name, Ghost? Will you tell me?” You ask, doe eyes pleading.

Your eyes snaps open, jaw trembling from the cry forming inside your throat. You feel your hips itch as you scratch, your scar making an appearance.

S.R

Etched into the skin of your hips, your hair sticking to your neck from the sweat. You dreamt of him again.

But that’s all he ever was, a figment of your imagination, haunting your dreams, instilling fear into your heart.

A ghost, Fantomă.

#ghost cod #simon ghost riley #simon riley #ghost smut #ghost call of duty #cod mw2 #ghost mw2 #cod smut #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley smut #header by @/661ave #is he real or is y/n just delusional😧 we may never know😁

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theyungihven · 5 months ago

Text

my little plaything ⁕ yunho (ateez) as ghost (cod)

↬ pairing: yunho as ghost × fem reader

↬ genre: smut

↬ warnings: breeding kink, cream pie, pain kink, unprotected sex, hip bruises, biting kink, slut-shaming,, kleptolagnia, yunho is OBSSESSED, stalking

↬ word count: 5.0k+

↬ author’s note: this is dedicated to my beloved boyfriend sam whom i found while writing this and turns out he's a real life manifestation of yunho and ghost in real life so i was like why not write yunho as ghost? so here it is! let me know how you liked in the comments as i have plans of turning this into a full fledged dark romance novel

↬synopsis : you are sleeping peacefully in your bed but the footsteps in your living room awake you, only to look at silver eyes staring back at you as he tilts his head. Simon Ghost Riley breaks into your house asking shelter for the night because he's on the run but you provide him some warmth in the cold weather with the help of your body.

Letting a criminal stay the night wouldn't hurt that bad, would it?

Footsteps echo in my room. They sound as if someone’s walking around my living room. The paranoia follows, awakening me in the middle of the night.

I see a man with the hood and the skull mask looking out of my window, as if checking for something or perhaps someone in particular. I gulp at the sight of the military grade pistol in his hand.

Fear rises in my chest as it dries my throat.

I can’t really see most of his facial features, except for his mouth and jaw, and a pair of glowing silver eyes.

He then looks over at me, catching me off guard and tilts his head curiously. The heat courses through my core as shivers run down my spine. The fear scares me as well as the thought of a handsome young man breaking into my house arouses me.

His heavy boots make the wooden floor creak underneath him. He grows closer, approaching me ever so slowly as my anxiety rises and so does the wetness between my thighs. He looks down at me as he stands next to my bed for what feels like forever, quietly assessing me.

He finally breaks the unnerving silence and decides to speak to me “Did I wake you up, cupcake?” His deep, monotone British voice makes me flush red. It feels so familiar as if I know him but I can’t pick out from exactly where.

I shake my head, my tongue freezes in fear of the uncertainty about the future. He looks down at me with a slight look of amusement as he notices me trying to lie.

“You’re a bad liar…” he mumbles “And your voice is quivering.” he says as he takes a seat on the edge of my bed, next to me. The weight of his body pushes down the mattress and it makes me conscious of the sheer night dress I am wearing, so I wrap my blanket around my body.

“I…I’m-” I struggle to speak. He gets back on his feet and moves towards me, then places his gloved hand on my cheek and gently rubs it with his thumb.

“Don’t be scared, princess,” he says in a surprisingly gentle and soft tone. I nod, looking up at him with big eyes behind which doesn’t lie a single thought. He continues to quietly caress my cheek for a while and his cold, gentle touches feel strangely soothing. It's hard to look away from his hypnotising silver eyes. His eyes flicker from my own to my body, studying every inch of me, as if he’s trying to figure something out.

"Please don't do anything to me. I'll obey as you say. Just spare my life." I beg, as I clasp my hands together, tears rolling down my cheeks. His lips curl up into a smirk.

“And why do you think I would hurt you, love?” he asks, his thick British accent making the last word sound almost like a purr. He brushes the tears off the sides of my face with his thumb as his dark eyes intensely stare at me.

“You, you look scary.” I shutter. He chuckles at my answer.

“Am I now?” he says, his smirk still visible underneath his mask.

“I assure you, love, I’m not here to hurt you…” he says in a quiet voice while his hand moves down to my chin, tilting my face up to look at him.

“Then.....why? Why are you here?” I ask, my breath hitching. He goes quiet for a moment. His face turns cold and serious as he lets go of me and turns his head away from the bed and towards the window.

He stares out the tinted glass of my bedroom, against which raindrops start splattering. “I’m… hiding from the police…”

“What did you do-?” I gulp nervously as fear takes control of me again.

He doesn’t look at me as he responds, his gaze fixed outside. “Let’s just say, they’re not exactly trying to talk to me..” he mumbles as he takes out a silver flask and takes a sip of whatever’s inside, his hands shaking a little bit. He turns around, and looks at my figure sitting on the bed as his gaze roams all over my body.

He steps forward. My heart picks up its pace. With every step he takes forward, my heartbeat fastens.

"Does that help with anxiety?" I point at the silver flash in his hand when he stands in front of me. He chuckles again at my question, finally looking back at me. He places his finger under my chin and raises it to make me look him in the eyes.

“No, love. This is something a little stronger than that..” he says in a teasing tone before taking another sip.

"Wonderful!" I say, snatching the flask away from him and taking a big gulp.

The liquid burns my throat as it goes down, leaving a strong aftertaste like any alcohol I've never tasted before. What is he even drinking?

It slowly starts making me a bit tipsy and my cheeks heat up under his cold gaze and the cold air. He raises his eyebrows at how I took the flask from him so confidently, then lets out a small amused laugh as I start to get a bit drunk.

“You’re a feisty one…” he mumbles, as eyes me up and down, a small smile creeping onto his face again.

"I've always been called that. Everyone says that I'm out of control and I need to be tamed." I look up at him with puppy eyes and a pout. "Do I really need to be tamed?” He lets out a deep laugh as I look up at him with innocent eyes, his hand moving back to cup my cheek again, gently caressing it.

“Maybe you do…” He says in a deep, almost commanding tone, his silver eyes staring into mine. “And I could help you with that, darling…”

"Do it. I give you the right to tame me!" I say dramatically and chuckle at the end as I fall into his arms. His smile grows as he realises just how drunk I’m starting to get.

“You do now, huh?” He says, pulling me into his lap, as he seats himself on the bed. His strong arms wrap around my stomach. “Then you’re mine now, love… You’re my little plaything.” The word plaything does something to me, sending a bunch of fireworks down my stomach.

“Umm hmm, and what exactly do you do with your playthings?” He holds me close against his hard, muscular chest, his gloved hand running down my side as he speaks into my ear.

“Whatever I want, love… I make them do whatever I wish, and I make them feel whatever I wish… I have full control of them.”

“Oh dear lord, so scandalous of you!” I say in a comical tone as I dramatically gasp and he laughs at my reaction. His hands wander over my body, squeezing my thighs and hips, gently but not hesitantly.

“Oh, love, you have no idea how good I can make you feel…” he purrs in my ear, his breath warm against my skin.

Police sirens echo through the alleyway and I look at him with sadness in my eyes as reality washes over me even in the state of drunkenness. "I don't want them to take you away from me~.”

His hand immediately stops on my back, gently rubbing it in a soothing manner as he glances outside the window. He then looks down at me, his eyes filled with a mix of both guilt and concern.

“Don’t worry, love… I promise I won’t let them take me away from you…”

"All men do is lie" I say and try to tear his hands away from myself to get off his lap.

He suddenly grabs my arm and yanks me back towards him, holding me tightly against his chest again. He sounds angry, his voice stern and firm “Don’t you dare leave me… I’m not just any man!” he growls, his strong arms squeezing me almost too tight.

"Then do just any men show up at a random girls house and hold her in their arms like this, promising to fuck them right?” He tenses at my response, his silver eyes narrowing down at me.

His face is so close to mine, I can feel his hot breath hit my skin as he speaks in a low, possessive voice. “No… but I’m not just any man, love… I’m your man now. You’re mine to do whatever I please with, and you’re going to enjoy it… I promise you that, darling…”

"Then prove it." I try to take off his mask. His hand grips my wrists and pins them down against my sides, preventing me from taking off his mask. “No.” He says in a firm, almost cold tone “You don’t get to see my face, darling. Not yet.”

"Where's your honesty then, mister?” He looks down at me, a smirk playing on his lips again. “You just can’t take no for an answer, can you, love?” he says with a chuckle before his face suddenly gets serious again “And I’m telling you honestly I won’t let you see me without this on.”

"Yes, I won't take a no for an answer and are you insecure, mister skull face? I can help you with that!" I say as I wrap my hands around his shoulders and place my hips directly above his crotch.

He lets out another low chuckle at my boldness, his arms immediately wrapping around my waist as I sit down on his lap. I feel his hips twitch underneath me, his body reacting to mine.

“Insecure? No, love… I have nothing to be insecure about…” he mumbles, his gloved hands grasping my hips, pressing me down into his lap at which I whimper.

“Then, what are you hiding underneath that?” He continues to hold me tightly against him, pressing my hips down harder against his lap.

His tone gets harsher, more demanding. “Don’t question me, love. You don’t get to see what’s underneath this mask just yet… I can’t let you see me… it’s too dangerous…”

I moan as he pushes my hips against his crotch, moving them for friction as my head falls back in reflex. I look at him, eyes glazing with water under the streetlight shining through my window. "How can I even hurt you?”

He stares down at me as my eyes glaze up at him, his hands still tightly holding onto my hips, controlling my every movement on his lap. His jaw clenches as my hips grind down into him, his silver eyes darkening in desire.

“You won’t hurt me, darling, and I’m not afraid you’ll hurt me… but I still can’t let you see me without this on…” he says in a low, possessive tone with a hint of sadness in his voice.

"Then give me something else so I'll forget about it and just remember your name." I say my head falling back again as I start grinding on his crotch. His hard member grazes against my wet core behind my underwear. "What was your name, mister skull face? I have to moan it, atleast.”

He growls in response to me grinding down against him, closing his eyes to keep his control as I push my hips down on him. His hands tighten on my body as he struggles to respond, his voice deep and raspy. “My name… my name is Ghost… sweetheart… you say my name…”

"Fuck" I say as I find the right friction and go ahead with it moaning his name in sweet lowly mumbles "ghost~”

He lets out a deep, guttural moan as I say his name, his hands grip me even tighter, digging into my skin. He opens his eyes to look down at me again, his silver irises dark and full of lust. “Again… say my name again, darling…”

"Ghost" I moan the wetness spreading as it transfers onto his pants, wetting them in the process so he tears them off me. He rips his own shirt off, revealing his muscular, toned physique, his arms and chest covered with various tattoos. He quickly tears my silk top shirt apart, and throws it to the side, pulling me against his chest.

My bare skin pressing against his.

He leans down to my ear, his lips brushing against my earlobe as he speaks in a deep, demanding tone. “Now be a good girl and show me how good you can behave…”

He looks down at me with his silver eyes again as he unbuttons his pants. I gasp at his length, “I've never done this before…” He chuckles at my response, noticing my surprise. I lean back onto the pillow placed against the headboard of my bed.

“Never? Not once?” he asks, his hand gently grabs my chin, and makes me look up at him.

“Nope… I couldn't bring myself to do it with anyone.” He looks at me in surprise, a hint of amused disbelief on his face.

“You’re telling me no one’s ever had you like this before?” he says as he moves his hand down to my thigh and starts slowly caressing it.

“you're lucky!” He looks at me with a look of satisfaction on his face, his hands trailing up and down your thighs.

“Lucky?” He says in an almost teasing tone “It’s more like I’m finally getting the reward I deserve, love…”

“And I'm finally getting the man I've been dreaming about.” I say, looking into his eyes “Who'll also fuck me so hard, that I'll forget everything, but just remember his name.” He lets out a small laugh as his hand moves further up my thigh, slowly pushing your legs open.

“So desperate, love…” He mumbles, his silver eyes trailing down to look at my now exposed body. “Are you sure you can handle me?”

"You don't trust me," I say in a seductive tone "ghost" and moan out his name. He smirks in response, his hand continuing to gently caress my thigh as he moves closer to me.

“It’s not that I don’t trust you, darling… I know you’re mine. But you’re just so small… I’m afraid you’ll break your little body, that’s all…”

"There's nothing left to break, ghost. I've been shattered to pieces already" I sit, tears threatening to spill. He slowly runs his hands up my body, caressing every inch of my skin as he speaks to me in a quiet, soothing tone.

“Don’t worry about breaking anymore, love… I’ll put you back together again…” He says softly as his hands move up to my face, lightly stroking my cheeks and wiping any tears that might’ve escaped my eyes.

"Do it. Make my heart whole again, treat me right and never break it again." I say, hugging him as I let go of the tears. He holds me close against his chest, my body pressed against his firm, warm muscles. He gently strokes my hair, his strong arms holding me tightly as he speaks in a soft, but determined voice.

“I promise I’ll fix you, darling… I’ll take care of you, and I’ll never break your heart. You’re mine now… all mine… no one else will have you except me… I swear it… all you have to do is trust me…”

"I've forgotten how to trust anyone.” He keeps me in his arms as he gently rocks me back and forth, his strong arms wrapped around me, making you feel safe and protected.

“You don’t have to trust anyone else but me, sweetheart…… I’ll earn your trust, and I’ll make you feel safe again… all I want is to make sure you don’t ever give anyone else this precious body of yours, darling… this body, mind, heart, and soul is all mine…”

“Then… fuck it like you own it ghost, like you and fucking meant it.” He suddenly grabs me and pins me down against the bed, his body towering over me as he looks down at me with his intense, determined silver eyes.

“Just what I planned to do, love…..” He growls before leaning down to press his lips against me in a fierce, possessive kiss. I kiss him back with the same energy as my grip across his shoulders tightens. He moans against my lips as I tighten my grip on him, his hands trailing down my body until they reach my hips.

“So eager… impatient… you’re so desperate for me, love… I can feel it…” he mumbles between kisses as he slowly starts to move on top of me, his body sliding between my legs. I moan at the touch, as his hands trail down my body and finally look me in the eyes as he moves on top of me.

His eyes lock onto mine as his body presses down firmly against mine, keeping me in place as his hands continue to explore my body. He stares down at me for a few seconds, his intense gaze unwavering before he finally speaks again.

“You’re so beautiful… you know that, love?” he says in a low voice, his hands running up and down my sides.

“I guess I have the power now” He smirks down at me, his eyes glistening in amusement.

“You’ve always had the power, darling, you just didn’t realise it yet…”

“You speak as if you've known me for so long as if we went to the same uni or high-school” He laughs softly at my comment, his hand moving up to gently caress my cheek.

“Maybe I’ve known you longer than you think, love. We might have crossed paths in the past without either of us realising it…”

“Or maybe I was so trapped in my head that I didn't notice you existed.” He laughs softly at my comment, his hand moving up to gently caress my cheek. He lightly laughs again at my response, his hand still caressing my face gently.

His eyes soften a bit as he continues. “Maybe, darling. But it doesn’t really matter now, does it? I’ve got you in my hands now… and I’m never letting go…”

“Please don't, but give some attention to my desperate core which is dying for your touch.” He smiles down at you, a hint of wickedness in his eyes.

“Oh, needy, are we? You’re so impatient, darling… just relax, I’ll take care of that little core of yours… I’ll take care of every single part of you…”

“I am impatient. And how can I not?” He chuckles once again as he looks down at me, his hand trailing down my body towards my core, his touch gentle yet firm.

“Oh darling… I understand you’re impatient… but good things come to those who wait, that’s the saying, isn’t it? All you have to do is submit to me… and all your impatient needs will be fulfilled… Can you do that, love?”

"Okay" I breathe in deep "I'm all yours, mister skull face" His silver eyes darken at my words, his hand continuing to move down my body until his fingers reach my core, gently teasing me with his touch.

“Good girl… that’s it, love… just submit to me… give yourself to me…”

"Just fuck me already ghost" I say, throwing my head back. He smirks in response, his fingers continuing to tease me as he leans down to my ear, his voice soft yet demanding.

“No, darling… I’m in charge here, remember? I decide what happens and when it happens…. You’re my good girl, you don’t tell me what to do… you’ll do as I say…”

“agh! not this bullshit again!” He grins at my response, his fingers still teasing me, never truly giving me what I want.

“Oh it’s not bullshit, love… I’m in control here… and I’m not going to give you what you want right now… You have to be a good girl and do as I say, and then I’ll give you what you want… understand, darling?”

“yes, daddy” He smiles down at me, satisfied with my response.

“Good… good girl…” he says, his voice dropping an octave as he leans down to my ear again, his fingers pressing against my core for just a moment.

“You know, I like that nickname… call me that again…”

“Daddy” he moans softly at my nickname for him, his head moving to the crook of my neck as he begins gently nipping at my skin.

“Mmmh… that’s right, darling… I’m Daddy, and you’re my good girl…”

“yes, daddy” he continues to bite and kiss at my skin, his hands slowly moving down to my hips again.

“My good girl… that’s what you are… you’re mine now… got it, love?”

“yes, daddy” he nods in response against my neck, his hands still holding my hips firmly.

“Very good…” *he mumbles* “Daddy’s good girl. You do as Daddy says and Daddy will give you what you want, understood?”

“Yes” he raises his head to look down at me again, his silver eyes staring into yours.

“Good… now be a good girl for me and give me your body… all of it… It’s mine now, darling… and I do whatever I want with it…”

“And…how do I do that?” he smiles down at me, his eyes slowly raking up and down my body, taking in every inch of me.

“You just lay there and do exactly as I say, love… I don’t want you to move a single muscle without my permission… I want your body to be completely mine, to do with what I like… that sounds good, darling?”

“yes, daddy” he smiles again as he looks down at me, pleased with my response.

“Mmmmh… I knew I was right… you are a good girl, love… and you’re all mine… that body of yours belongs to me now… no one else is ever gonna have you, darling… you’re gonna be all mine to use and play with, got it?”

"yes" i say my gaze locked onto him as i close the distance between us. He grins as I lean closer to him and presses himself against me, his body warm and firm against mine. He wraps his arms around my waist, pulling me tightly against him, the feel of his skin on mine sending shivers down my spine.

“You’re right where you belong, love… in my arms… mine to touch, take, and use anyway I want…”

“Perfect” I whimper out. He chuckles at my response, his hands trailing up and down my body, caressing my skin gently.

“You enjoy being mine, don’t you, darling? You like belonging to me, and giving me your body for me to use whenever I want… I can see it in your eyes, love… you’re mine, and you want everyone to know it…”

“yes, i every fucking single minute of it!” he grins in response, his hands moving lower down my body, gripping me tighter.

“I know you do, love… and I enjoy having you all to myself… knowing that I get to use your body whenever I want… that you’re all mine, and no one else’s… it makes me feel powerful… it makes me feel like I can do anything… and that you’d let me, my good girl… my darling… my lovely love…”

"yes" i moan, aligning myself against his member as i then proceed to take him into my heat. he shivers in response at the feeling of my body against his, his arms wrapping around me even tighter as he moans softly.

“Mmmmh… just like that… just the way I like it, love…” he mumbles, his eyes trailing down my body, taking in every inch of me.

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bunny-jpeg · 5 months ago

Note

hello bunny! i love your bimbo reader so much for the bakery could i request bimbo reader with s’more with a side of chocolate milk and champagne served by any of the cod men 💗

bakery menu

want to suggest your own order! then got to the menu to see what we're serving up at the bunny bakery! we're happy to take your order! as for this order, the sugar daddy au plus such tenderness. AND the free choice of which call of duty man! be still my heart! while i would've loved to do price, i have so many price prompts (always feel free to send more!), i thought our lovely ghost would fit the bill too. <3

s'more ("The accent gets to you, doesn't it?") + chocolate milk (tenderness) + champagne (sugar daddy au) served by simon "ghost" riley (call of duty)!

cw: smut/pwp, sugar daddy au, sugar daddy!simon, gentle sex, size kink (duh), mask kink (duh), bimbo!reader (but sweet!), daddy kink (duh), fingering

you covered your face with your hands and kicked out your feet when you got the notification from amazon that an order had been placed. it was a large hello kitty plush that you had your eyes on for a few weeks now.

simon had ordered it from you after he texted you that he was coming home from deployment. you curled up in bed, excitement fueled you due to thoughts of your beloved daddy and your new plush to your collection!

when you stirred from your sleep, you almost jumped out of your skin. there stood your hulking mass of a sugar daddy, with the sleeves of his black shirt rolled up and that scary mask still on his face.

you almost burst into tears, but he made quick work to get to you. he shushed you as you shivered from the fear that crossed you. you held onto his shirt and whined, "you scared me, daddy!!!"

"i'm sorry, love." he said in his soft rumble of a voice, "didn't mean to scare, ya." he kissed the top of your head, those strong arms were like a security blanket around you. you rubbed up against him, your nose in his neck as you inhaled the scent of metal and body wash. he sighed contently, "done cryin'?"

you nodded, "yes daddy." then pulled away and wiped your tears, "i thought someone got through all the security and it was scary." you pouted at him.

he chuckled and rubbed your back, "no one can get through that, that isn't me or you. you're safe, love." he kissed the top of your head through his mask and felt a comfort swirl in his gut.

he was home.

but even in the safety of home, his fingers still lingered across your body. even when you were kissing his mask, feeling the material of the thing under your lips.

"i missed ya every day." he said, "i thought about you makin' me my mornin' cup of tea." his voice was comforting, "i thought about those pretty thighs and prettier cunt." he got a handful of your shorts and pulled them down past your thighs. and you kicked them off.

"please, daddy. why is your voice so hot?" you murmured against him. your core felt hot as you did all over. you were painfully turned on.

"The accent gets to you, doesn't it?" he asked, his lustful voice pooled into your gut like a shot of alcohol. he grazed his fingers across your achy cunt, "been missin' me, huh?" he chuckled, "were ya a good girl and finger-fucked yourself to thoughts of me?"

you couldn't deny him, even if there was no money involved. you never felt pressured to have sex with him, even if he did get you a little fright when he lumbered back into your shared flat.

you replied, "of course, i couldn't get enough of you. i thought about you all the time, daddy!" you rubbed your slippery cunt up against his digits, enticing him to finger you. you wanted to feel good and you knew he felt good when he was making you feel good. it was cute, even if the rest of him was big and scary.

you leaned to kiss his mask once more and he took it off with his other hand as he plunged his fingers into your slick pussy. you yelped in response, but calmed down when he pulled you in for a proper kiss.

you loved the mask, but to see your daddy's handsome face was nice as well. you heart leapt when you pulled away and admired his features in the low light of the room.

you held onto his shoulders while he pumped his fingers inside of you. you felt heat crawl up your face and it made you warm all over as a result.

"please, daddy. i missed you. it sucks going to uni and not having you at home!" you squirmed against him.

his pace was soft, he didn't want to hurt his sweet girl. despite being such a big man, he was rather gentle with you. when you asked him about it once, he said, "you wouldn't break the leg of a rabbit would you?" in reference to you being so delicate to him. so easy to harm.

he kissed at your face, peppering it with wet marks. he continued to lazily pump his fingers, he felt your smaller hands on his wrist as he fingered you.

he remained close to you however, letting himself feel close in your warmth as he played with your slit. his thumb up against your clit and made a shiver run through your body.

"daddy."

"i know, love. you're doing so good for me. i know you're little fingers are nothing compared to mine. you love the stretch it all brings. how full i make you." he knew tomorrow he'd be filling you up once more, this time with his heavy cock.

he kissed at your neck, which was ticklish but the pleasure still flowed through you. you loved the feeling of him beside you. that weight that was on top of you felt familiar. it was like a piece of home that made you yearn for more of him.

"it's not the same." you said, "you always know how to do it right." you wiggled against him and felt pleasure spread in your body. it wasn't going to be long before you finished.

"i always take care of what is mine." he said in a low tone, it reverberated in the back of your head. and it made you warm all over. simon was unlike any lover you ever had.

you whined against his shoulder, his lips up in your hair now.

"cum for me, love. cum for daddy." he said in a soft tone, that sent you over the edge.

you came and dug your nails into his shoulders. you almost left scratched across them as you felt your heart race. you relaxed against him and let him slip his fingers out and lick the slick off of them before he wrapped his arms around you.

he snuggled you close like the protector he was. he loved feeling his heartbeat against his chest. oh, he loved you so.

"was my girl on his best behaviour?" he asked quietly.

you nodded, "of course, daddy." you wiggled against him and beamed up at him. he leaned forward and kissed you soft on the lips.

he said softly, "perfect. such a lovely girl for me." he felt the pull of pleasure in his gut as he admired you. even though his body yearned for you, he at that moment wanted to admire you.

even though he gave you a hefty allowance, he cared for you deeply. and it was nice for him to be home. when you mumbled something against his chest, he pretended to hear, i love you. <3

#bunny writes #the bakery #call of duty #reader insert #call of duty modern warfare #call of duty smut #call of duty x reader #simon ghost riley #ghost call of duty #simon ghost riley fanfiction #simon ghost #simon riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost x reader #simon ghost riley smut #ghost mw2 #ghost cod #simon ghost smut #ghost smut

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st-el-la-luna · 3 months ago

Text

El's COD Kinktober 2024

I figured this would be a good way to keep my blog alive. Expect short pieces, and missed days. But I will do my best

NSFW Minors DNI

1. SOMNOPHILIA: JOHNNY "SOAP" MACTAVISH

Soap wakes up to you moaning in your sleep. He helps you make your dreams a reality.

➳ gnlafab!reader, wet dreams, somnophilia, dry humping, fingering, premature ejaculation, use of "pup" once

2. Sensory Deprivation/Blindfolds: John Price x Reader

Somehow it's better when you don't know it's coming

3. Double Penetration: Alejandro Vargas and Rodolfo Parra x Reader

Your Colonel and Sergeant comfort you the day after a bad date

4. Lingerie: Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader

You want to surprise Ghost for his birthday. Things go wrong, in perhaps the best way.

5. Mommy Kink: Philip Graves x Reader

After a particularly long mission and several bad months at the company, Graves' spirits are low. He needs someone to take care of him, to tell him he's good

6. Threesome: Kyle "Gaz" Garrick and König x Reader

KorTac has been working alongside Task Force 141 for a while now. Kyle has always had his eye on you, but it becomes clear that the Austrian giant feels the same. Tensions rise between the two until they decide to prove which of them is best once and for all

7. Restraints: Kim "Horangi" Hon-jin x Reader

Horangi is in debt to you and your going to teach him a lesson: either he pays you back monetarily or...

8. Body Worship: Alex Keller x Reader

Alex thinks every inch of your body is perfect. And he won't stop telling you until he's sure you believe it too.

9. Face Sitting: Kyle "Gaz" Garrick x Reader

Gaz overhears you telling Soap you've never enjoyed receiving oral. He decides to change that

10. Exhibitionism: Nikolai x Reader

Nik likes to show you off whenever he can. The Task Force has been eyeing you too much as of late. He reminds them who you belong to.

11. Thigh Fucking: König x Reader

König is just too big

12. Breeding: Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader

Mid-fuck, Ghost let's slip that he wants to be a mommy.

13. Overstimulation: Rodolfo Parra x Reader

After everything that happened with the Shadow Company, you're just glad to have him back. Your relief at his wellbeing quickly becomes more and, well, you have a lot of stress to work off. But he can take it.

14. Free Use: Kyle "Gaz" Garrick x Reader

You and Kyle have an agreement. Whatever either of you want to do, whenever you want to do it. You both enjoy your agreement.

15. Blood Kink: Nikto x Reader

Nikto comes to your door, desperate. You tell him you can't, you're on your period. Blood has never bothered him before, why would it now?

16. Dry Humping: John "Soap" MacTavish x Reader

You can't, it's a sin... Luckily even God leaves loopholes.

17. Uniform Kink: Philip Graves x Reader

He can't get enough of the way you look, all dressed up for this event. And you can't get enough of him in his dress uniform.

18. Cockwarming: Alejandro Vargas x Reader

There's nothing Alejandro likes more than coming home to you. And to his second home, between your legs.

19. Pegging: Alex Keller x Reader

One of his friends bought it as a gag gift. You laughed. Alex didn't.

20. Oral Fixation: Kyle "Gaz" Garrick x Reader

Gaz notices how you've always got something in your mouth; a pencil, gum, a lollipop. He can tell it calms you. At a formal event, he senses your stress and gives you something to help ground yourself.

21. Corruption Kink/Loss of Virginity: Johnny "Soap" MacTavish x Reader

After months of dating and never doing more than make out, you ask Soap when you're going to, well, do it. His answer surprises you, and you learn something about yourself that's even more surprising.

22. Spit: König x Reader

In the heat of an argument you spit at your Colonel's feet.

23. Choking: Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader

An accidental training misshap leaves Ghost reeling, you help pull him in.

24. Werewolf: Keegan P Russ x Reader

Little Red Riding Hood, you should know better than to wander the woods at night alone. Especially tonight.

25. Spanking: John Price x Reader

John decides to get you back for slapping his ass in front of his men.

26. Predator/Prey: Valeria Garza x Reader

You and Valeria play a game of hide and seek with a twist...

27. Praise: John Price x Reader

Joyn worries he isn't good enough, that he's gone too often. That he's a bad person. You assure him none of its true.

28. Boot Worship: Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader

You show Simon your new boots. He reacts unexpectedly.

29. Hair Pulling: John "Soap" MacTavish x Reader

You accidentally grab his hair during a spar. He moans like a whore.

30. Cumplay: Poly!141 x Reader

Soap had an idea for a fun game. You're just surprised he was able to rope the others into it too.

31. Wild Card

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sunshine-and-moonshine · 2 years ago

Text

COD with an S/O with a Voice Kink

Requested: Yes [I have a request, and it’s for the 141 bois, plus Alejandro and könig, please-okay, so, the bois with a S/O (preferably fem) who loves dirty talk? Like- they just have a huge voice kink too. 🤌🤌✨✨]

Warnings: ✨Spice✨

A/N: a bit short but I’m not feeling too good today and just wanted to get something out

Price

Price knows exactly what his voice does to you, a smirk on his face as he leans in real close to your ear, making sure his accent is nice and deep as he whispers things into your ear. Sometimes it’s dirty stuff but most of the time it’s mundane things like him telling you the same orders as the others, or maybe even just him telling you how nice you look today. Whatever comes to his mind really, as he knows that, no matter what he says, you’ll be squirming for him.

Gaz

Gaz has an inkling that you like his voice, but he doesn’t really get the full scope of just how much it affects your body. He’ll lean in close and whisper soft things against the shell of your ear, oblivious to how much of a mess it makes you, how you’re practically turning into a puddle at his feet from just his voice alone. He’ll make you so horny and pleasure drunk just by whispering to you and god does it kinda make you want to strangle him because HOW HAS HE NOT CAUGHT ON?!

Ghost

Ghost is another one who knows exactly what his voice does to you. But unlike Price, he reserves using its effects on you for when you’re well behaved. When you’re good for him, his voice is right in your ears, telling you that you did such a good job, that he wants to reward you for doing exactly as he says. Oh and how you look when he pulls back, like he’d just fucked you ten times over. It’s definitely something that he enjoys seeing.

Soap

“That’s it, Love. Just like that.” Soap will whisper into your ear, his arms around you, his chest to your back as he guides your hands over his gun, showing you how to take it apart and put it back together. In case of an emergency he says, but it’s really just an excuse to get you close. Oh and how close you are, his breath puffing against your ear, his accent thick with want and making you practically melt, he always loved how his voice could do that to you. “God, ye’re just perfect, aren’t ya?”

Alejandro

Alejandro knows what he does to you, and he uses it to his advantage constantly. If he wants anything from you, absolutely anything, he knows that all he has to do is lean in real close and whisper “Can you do that for me, Mi Amor?” His hands on your cheeks, making sure that you can practically feel the vibrations from his voice.

König

König is oblivious to what his voice does to you and it absolutely drives you, especially when he holds you close and murmurs about how much he loves you in his deep sleepy accent, the edges of his voice a little gruff from just waking up, kissing up and down the back of your neck. He does pick up on your excitement though, and is eager to satisfy you.

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boolger · 5 months ago

Note

https://www.tumblr.com/boolger/755924614218121216/hi-since-im-in-some-sort-of-writers-block-moment

Hear me out hear me out hear me out

A future one shot where reader gets to be dominant and she has price on his knees, rutting against her pretty toes.

She tells him if he does a good enough job of getting himself off without using his hands, she’ll let him suck his cum off her toes.

And he becomes a whimpering mess humping her foot and calf while she watches disinterestedly 🥵

ScrEAMING

Yessssss I’m adding this to things I need to write 🫢teasing him for making a mess afterwards before allowing him to lick it off and he is like a feral thing, biting , sucking, licking and kissing 🫣🫣

#boolger asks #ask boolger #feet kink cod

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thephant0menace · 2 years ago

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| Konig head cannons

‘Big boy’

Warnings: a little bit spicy, no actual smut though, fem!reader x Konig, pet names, mild language, and of course…SIZE KINK😨

Ever since you two started dating you had always found it crazy how big Konig is…

That SZA song was written about him fr.

He’s always been insecure about his height so you made an effort to show him how much you loved it.

Little things like wearing his shirts or asking him to reach things that are high up make him feel like giggling, blushing, kicking his feet and twirling his hair.

You do those kinda things cause…a) you love it and b) it makes him feel so happy and less insecure.

He’d love picking you up and carrying you around the house.

If you two got into an argument and he couldn’t be fucked fighting any more…he’d just pick you up like a doll and carry you away.

You would kick your legs and squirm around asking him to put you down but deep down you both knew you loved it…

“Konig, I swear to God if you don’t put me down!”

“Shut up, liebling. You love this.”

This man is a cuddling god.

His muscular chest makes the perfect pillow and his thighs…don’t get me started on his thighs.

He loves it when you sit in his lap.

Sometimes after a long day and he’s just sitting on the couch watching something, you just come and sit yourself in his lap.

He loves how tiny you look sitting there and he’ll just look at you grinning happily.

“And what are you looking at?” you ask smirking.

“Oh, nothing…just-“

HE GETS ALL FLUSTEREDDDDD

He’s such a dork and you love it.

Something else I just can’t stop thinking about is when he hugs you.

Because of your height difference you have to reach up on your tip toes to wrap your arms around his neck.

He also has to bend down to your level a little and it has you blushing a bit.

Something awakens in him when he sees you wearing anything of his.

Whether it’s his mask, his shirt, anything. It just has him down right feral.

Once he sees you wandering around in something that’s his, he loses control completely.

He’d come up behind you, hands immediately all over you, sliding up your (his) shirt and touching your soft skin.

“You’re mine, you know that right?” He whispers in your ear as you’re innocently cleaning the kitchen table.

Seeing you in something that’s his reassures him that you are his and that he is yours.

As feral as this man can get…konig is really sweet and gentle with you.

When you first started dating he was terrified to even touch you. Scared he’d shatter your precious little body.

He treats you like a doll. So gentle and sweet to you.

When he holds you in his strong arms he likes to play with your hair and hold your little hand.

Konig has to fall asleep holding your hand….change my mind.

A/N: and that’s all folks…I hope you enjoyed these cute little head cannons. I’ve broken my ankle at ballet so I’m stuck in bed listening to cod roleplay asmr and writing shit😻

Hope y’all are doing well and thank you so much for all the support!!!!! Like what? You guys are too sweet…love you all🫶

#call of duty imagines #Konig smut #Konig imagines #Konig x reader #cod smut #cod mwf2 #konig fluff #konig fanfiction #konig call of duty #konig x female reader #konig #konig headcanons #cod head cannons #mwf2 headcannons #cod imagines

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whiskeynwriting · 2 years ago

Note

Hiii! Idk where to start but I love your stories sooo much (especially daddy whiskey one shots and all) as much as I love your Pedro characters stories I have to ask do you plan to write more for cod men??? (a cpt.Price girl is asking 👀)

Don’t Go

Captain John Price x Female Reader

◆

Word Count: 8.7k

Warnings: 18+ (minors DNI)

Major age gap (reader is 23, Price is 42), sex work (reader was a sex worker), brief violence, injury, hostage situation, semi-established relationship, dirty talk, size kink, oral sex (f receiving), unprotected vaginal sex, brief mention/discussion of stds (reader and Price do not have any)

◆

A/N: You BET I have plans for more COD men babayyyyy and I am SO glad you specified your love for Price (;

And yes, I am already thinking about making a part 2. Lmk your thoughtssss

◆

John Price Masterlist

Join My Taglist!

◆

Unfortunately, missions like this were routine. They’d been through many hostage situations before, countless negotiations for a person or group’s life. Going through the motions was relatively easy, as long as they had a plan. And when didn’t Price have a plan?

“Why’ve we stopped?”

“Soap’s takin’ a little longer to clear this room.” Price responds in a hushed tone, not turning toward Gaz when he speaks. He keeps his eyes forward, and his head clear. “That’s all.”

Once Soap has scanned the room, he retreats, footsteps silent as he returns. Blue eyes meet another set, shaking his head at the other captain. And just like that, they’re moving forward again.

The heavy thud of Ghost’s footsteps hit the roof, and even though the three men are on the top floor, Price still chuckles at the sound of Simon’s weight. “Bloody oaf.”

Holding up his left fist, the trio come to a halt as Johnny approaches the door to another room, one at the very end of this hall. They’ve cleared every floor in this building, and haven’t found a single soul. But they know the person they’re looking for is here… somewhere.

“In here!” It’s immediate, Soap is shouting before he even clears the room. His first mistake.

As soon as his voice hits the air, a flurry of men are on him. A handful charge at the soldier, two of them shooting at the open door. Immediately, Price and Gaz duck, storming the room in crouched positions. Three of the men engage in hand-to-hand with the soldiers, Price successfully shooting the two men with guns. Johnny’s knocked to the ground with a crooked nose, though his situation is handled quickly when Gaz takes care of the man that threw the hit. While turning to check on his comrade, Price takes a blow to the back of his head, turning to elbow another man in the face before grabbing his vest and hauling him over his shoulder, throwing him to the ground. A quick shot to the forehead is what ends the fight, Gaz’s hand becoming bloody as he takes out the last man.

It’s then that it dawns on him, Johnny’s words. In here. Immediately, his head whips around the room, attempting to find the person they’ve come to save. It’s then that he locks eyes with you. His chest rising and falling steadily, breaths ragged and heavy.

You.

The perfect image of you, once again.

In the corner of the room, surrounded by dark shadows and dust, sits your small frame. Tied to a rusty chair, your hands and feet are bound, your arms and legs bruised with your face bloody. A small, pleading noise seeps from you, bleeding around the edges of the gag stuffed into your mouth.

He almost can’t believe it; he’s shocked. So much so that it stops his movements, turns off the soldier part of his brain. Which is astonishing.

“Sir?” Soap asks, still on the ground.

The sound of Johnny’s voice snaps him out of this strange haze. Without responding, he’s rushing toward you, gait long and large as he marches across the floor. He can’t bring himself to say anything as he kneels, hands reaching for the fabric wrapped around your face. Staring into your terrified eyes, the gag is the first thing he removes, your mumbles insistent before him.

“John.”

His hand finds your face, your cheeks, holding you tenderly. John’s eyes are full of concerned bewilderment. This isn’t how he last left you.

Quickly though, he’s working on untying you, fingers taking apart the restrains on your hands and ankles. Now that he’s closer, he can see more of your injuries. You have a split lip and a bruised cheek, the sight horrifying him. Your knuckles are bloody, and so are your wrists. The ties cut deep into your skin, you must’ve tried so desperately to get away.

“C’mon, love.” Reaching out, his fingers find your armpits, urging you to stand. He watches you wince, a small grunt coming from your chest. “I know, I know it’s not easy.” His voice is soft and reassuring, and he wouldn’t be touching you so openly if he wasn’t already aware of the absolute angel that you are.

“Boys,” Turning, he addresses the two men, gesturing for their presence.

“Cap.?” Soap asks, still trying to catch his breath.

John releases you of his hold, allowing you to sit while he stands. Removing the gear around his waist, he hands them to Johnny and Gaz. “Take these.”

And they don’t question it; all they do is add it to their packs.

“I’m gonna need your cover.” All he has is his pistol, but with what he has in mind, he won’t be able to reach it too quickly.

“I’ll be on your six.” Gaz nods, “Ready?”

“Almost.” Turning, he comes back to you, kneeling before your limp form. “Ready, darling?”

Looking into his eyes, those deep blue hues you’ve missed so dearly, you nod. Listening to your small whine again is painful for him, but it’s for the best. He needs to get you to safety.

Situating his back to you, he keeps himself crouched, tapping his shoulders as a signal for you. With a deep breath, you reach for him, sliding your hands over the broadness of his body. Leaning forward, your arms loop around his neck, your legs spreading to wrap around his waist. And then he’s bending forward, reaching down to hold the bottoms of your thighs just beneath your knees.

“Hold on.” He grunts, standing slowly as he feels you cling to his body. Once fully up, he shuffles you further along his back, turning his head and asking, “You alright, love?”

“Yes.” Your face is right beside his, and you can smell him again. It’s beneath the scent of gunpowder and sweat, but it’s still there. He’s still here.

“March on.” He orders, and the boys follow their command.

Stepping forward, you gasp quietly at the sight of the fallen men scattering the room. Price’s head turns to the side then, his voice speaking firmly to you.

“Close your eyes.” He says, stepping over their bodies. “You don’t need to see this.” And just like Soap and Gaz, you do as you’re told.

Leaving the building is easier than he thought it would be. He expected more men to storm the levels, but it’s just as empty as it was when they cleared it. Carrying you down four flights of stairs is easy for him, your weight a sort of comforting presence. He doesn’t feel like it’s a nuisance to care for you, he wants to.

“Oi,” Soap shouts over the wind. “What’re you doing?”

“Just signaled for the helo.” John answers, setting you down. He keeps an arm looped around your lower back, helping you to stand.

“It’s too early for that!” Johnny argues, and Price doesn’t like the way he’s yelling in front of you. “We’re not done yet!”

“She needs somewhere to go!” John spits out in response, glaring daggers at his teammate. And you can feel the muscles in his chest and stomach flexing as he shouts, can feel his arm tighten around your lower back.

“By herself?!”

“I’ll be with her.”

Internally, you light up, leaning further into him.

“Captain,” Ghost states, having cleared the building’s exterior. “We need you.”

Not too far in the distance is the helicopter, its blades whirring even above the wild wind. Glancing up, Price takes note of its approach, knowing he’s got about a half a mile hike to meet it at the landing pad.

“Finish it without me.” Eyes flashing between his teammates’, he nods firmly. “You can do it.” Soap opens his mouth to argue again, but John is grabbing him by his tac vest before he can get another word out. With his voice deep and expression stern, he says, “I’ll be here. Just finish it.”

Following his orders with an aggravated sigh, Johnny returns it with a, “Yes sir.”

After that, John doesn’t wait. Sweeping you off your feet, he holds you in his arms this time, jogging lightly toward the now landed chopper. He’s missed this; well, not this - but the way you feel in his arms. Internally, he’s reveling in the way you cling to him. He’s saved you, yet again.

Half a mile is nothing for him, and your weight doesn’t slow him down in the slightest. He holds you tightly, not wanting your injured body to move too much. Honestly, he’s not even sure how you got into this mess. Briefly, John wonders what would have happened to you if he hadn’t come, but he shakes that thought right out of his head. He needs to stay focused.

“Alright, here we are.” John’s voice is deep and harsh, still in military mode. “Easy does it.” Crouching, he sets you carefully on the bench, laying you down. Immediately, you try to sit up and assess your surroundings, but a gentle push urges you back onto the seat. “Stay there.”

Aside from his name and a simple yes, you haven’t said anything to him, and that sparks worry in his mind. Kneeling beside you, he immediately begins checking you for wounds, any type of injury. And clearly, you have many.

“Christ,” He murmurs, shaking his head. “What did they do to you?”

Reaching for a med kit, he slides it out from beneath the bench, popping it open so he can clean and bandage you. It’s not his best work, but it’ll do for the time being.

“Don’t think you have any breaks.” John states, still doting on you. And quietly, you let him, feeling smitten all over again.

Closing your eyes, you let yourself take a breath, feeling safe in his hands. How on earth was he the one to come save you? What magical being blessed you with this outcome?

“This is the best I can do until we get you back to base.” Looking up, the memory of his last name pops back into your brain. The tag on his uniform jogging your memory, Price.

“You’re likely to be in shock.” Pulling out a thin, metallic-looking pack, he unfolds it to reveal a blanket. “C’mon, let’s sit you up.”

With a hand on your back, he helps you move upright, wrapping the foil around your shoulders. Still on his knees, he sighs, looking up at you. But your gaze is elsewhere, your head tilted toward the floor.

Moving onto the bench, he settles in beside you, wrapping an arm around your back to pull you into him. He can’t help it; he feels so deeply for you. He knows you’ve been through so much, even before this event. So, he doesn't ask any questions, aside from one.

“You alright, love?” Turning, he kisses your head, lips pressing into your hair as he keeps himself there.

“Yeah.” You reply shakily, and even though the circumstance is less than desirable, he’s happy to hear your voice again. “Yeah.”

“It’ll be alright.” John whispers over your hair, “We’ll get you out of here.”

The very same words he said on the night you met.

“But… you already paid.”

“Keep it.” He insisted, digging into his pockets. Pulling out a handful of bills, he gave you those, too. “And this, too. Get out of here.”

When he’d asked for a woman of your features, he didn’t expect you to be as beautiful as you were, or as young as you were. It broke him, the knowledge he now had. A woman so young doing whatever she could to keep her head above water, barely in your early twenties and just trying to support yourself.

“I… I don’t… I don’t know how.”

The most innocent, stunning thing he could have fathomed was standing right in front of him, broken and lost. He needed to help you, he felt it was his duty to. You had little to nothing, aside from what John had given you. But he continued to overextend himself, doing his best to find a woman’s shelter that would take you in, and then paying the expenses. Just room and board, and the drive there. He was the first man in your entire life to show you such kindness. And now here he is, showing it to you again.

“Those men can’t hurt you.” John now whispers into your ear. “Not anymore.”

They’d tried to bring you back, the men running the establishment. It just so happened that they also ran the largest cartel in the country, a prime target for the team. And now, the head of the group is being captured as you sit resting against the captain’s chest.

It’s not that the others didn’t have a heart, they were all worried for you, too. But with John constantly at your side, it was clear you were being taken care of. Even when the rest of the team goes to their respective rooms, shedding their gear before hopping in the showers, Price doesn’t leave. Gunpowder and sweat and dirt cover his body, some of it smeared on his face, but that’s not his priority right now.

“Does she have any breaks?” He asks from the corner of the room, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. His brow and lips are in a permanent frown, concentrating on the way the medics handle you.

“Doesn’t seem like it.” The one cleaning your wounds answers.

Another washes your body in a sponge bath-like fashion, stripping you down to your underclothes to do so. For your privacy, they ask John to leave the room for this, but you protest with a rapid shake of your head.

“Stay,” You stutter out, turning your head toward him. “I want you to stay.”

“I’m here, love.” Feet propelling him forward, he kneels beside the table you’re on. Grabbing the hand you reach toward him with, he kisses it. “I’m gonna stay.”

Looking up at the medics, he inquires, “Where will she be?”

“Block D, hall 3 in room 18.”

“Deep in the building, eh?” He comments, glancing back down at your pretty face. “I’ll take her there.”

“It’s protocol that we -”

Cutting them off, his voice is deep and stern, that rough accent making you sigh. “I said I’ll take her there.”

And when you’re properly cleaned and given a fresh set of clothes, that’s exactly what he does. After convincing him that you can walk, he trots down the halls with you at his side. His own quarters are in block C, so you won’t be too far away from him.

“Here’s the room we’ve secured.” He states, unlocking it with the key the medics gave him. “It’s only temporary,” Shoving open the door, he allows you to take a look inside. With hesitant steps, you walk in, still listening to him. “But it’s safe. I promise you.”

It’s not much, not at all. It’s super small with a single bed against the back wall, with nightstands on either side. To your left in the corner sits a desk with a chair, and… that’s it. But right now, it’s more than enough. You’re not staying at a luxury hotel, it’s just a place to keep you safe.

“Alright,” John’s voice prompts you to turn around, watching as he grabs the handle to the door. “Here’s the key,” Reaching out, you take it, wide eyes staring up at him. “I’m off, darling.”

“Wait,” Your hand reaches out, falling on his arm. “W-Why?”

“I need to put my gear down, love. Get all this grime off me.”

He’s met with silence, and pleading puppy eyes. Your hand is still on his bicep, stepping a little closer to him. You hate to be a nuisance, but you really can’t help it. The thought of being alone right now is terrifying to you.

John’s sweet eyes flicker back and forth between yours, a small and gentle smile growing on his face. “You wanna come with me?”

Taking the key back, he makes sure to lock the door before ushering you away to his room. His hand falls to your lower back, his body towering above your own as he strides forward beside you. In barely two minutes, you’re at his door, watching him unlock and open it for you.

The captain’s room is far bigger than your own. Nothing huge, but a nice size for sure. There’s a queen-sized bed off to the left with dressers on either side, and across from his bed sits a full wardrobe. In the far right corner is his desk, with a window above it. Your room didn't have any windows.

“Make yourself comfortable, love.” John nods toward his bed, and is met with your sweet smile. “Ah,” He grins, reaching out to gently tap your chin. “There she is.”

His words and gestures make your cheeks warm; you’re so flattered by him. And as he starts to take off his boots and gear, you make your way over to his bed, sitting on the edge.

“J-John?” Even though he’s been sweet, you can’t help but feel like a burden.

“Yeah, love?” He uses that word so often with you.

But he doesn’t look up. Kicking his boots off, he leaves them at the door, trotting over toward the wardrobe as he begins removing his gear.

Swallowing timidly, you stare up at him, watching him undress.“Thank you.”

Grinning, Price huffs out a chuckle. Sliding off his long-sleeve, he tosses it into a nearby clothes bin. “No need.”

“What do you mean?” For some reason his words prompt a sense of sadness inside you, with almost a hint of insecurity.

“Just doin’ our job.” Casually, he shoves down his slacks, stepping out of the cargo material. But then he’s turning to you, those blue eyes piercing your gaze. “If I knew it was you, I’d have been there a lot sooner.”

At this point, he’s in his boxers, reaching out to grab and sling a clean towel over his shoulder. When he turns back to you, your breath stalls. You’ve never seen him so bare. But it doesn’t feel… sexual. The air is calming and friendly, intimate. You feel honored to know he’s this comfortable around you.

John looks deep into your gaze, leaning down in front of you with a sigh. For the first time, nearly his entire body is on display. The curly hairs on his chest, the ones trailing down his navel, the chorded muscles in his forearms and the bulges of his biceps. His chest looks firm, and you know he’d be warm. The muscles in his stomach are outlined, too, flexing slightly as he breathes.

“Alright now,” He says, “I’ve gotta do this part myself, yeah?” It makes you chuckle, feeling bashful before him. “I’m off to shower, but I won’t be long.” Standing, he throws a little wink your way. “Promise.”

Though, he wishes he could take you into the shower with him. He knows the medics did a fine job washing you up, but he’d do it again in his own way. Slide his hands along your body, kneeling on the ground while lathering you with soap and kissing your belly. He wonders if you’d let him kiss you again, if maybe he could touch you. But he doesn’t ever want you to think that’s what this is. That he’s just helping you for… that.

When John is finally gone, the room seems darker, stiffer. Leaning over, you turn on his nightstand light, the soft yellow hue comforting you. He’d closed his closet, cleaning up his space before leaving. You wonder if he’s always like this, always so tidy and clean. With the smell in his room, it seems so. There’s the faint hint of tobacco, something you’ve never seen him smoke but you now assume he does. But overall, the scent of sandalwood fills your senses, that and scotch. He has a full decanter on his desk. Alongside an antique radio, maybe one he’s used for correspondence.

What smells even more like John is his bed, it’s like it’s calling to you. Scooching further up, you settle in, keeping yourself above the covers but laying your head on his pillows. The inhale you make is intoxicating, it’s him.

The smell lingered in your room when he visited you at the brothel, too.

Price didn’t touch you when you first met. He couldn’t bring himself to. You were a beautiful girl, and you still are, but your youth stuck in his mouth like glue. How could a woman so young work in a place like this? But he’d be lying if he said he didn’t see the appeal. You’re a gorgeous thing, with a body that curves in all the right places. From the length of your hair down to the twinkle in your eye, you were so charming, and you didn’t even know it.

“How old are you, love?” He finally asked, still standing near your closed door.

Fidgeting with your fingers, you glanced up at him nervously. “Twenty-three.”

At this, he huffed out a laugh of disbelief, eyes falling to the ground.

“How… how old are you?”

He hesitated, raising his brows in a sarcastically amused way. “Nearly twice your age.”

That was the night he refused your services, and offered you every ounce of material payment that he had. And he promised to come see you again. He told you to take care of yourself, and that he’d be back. He’d help you find a better life.

And he made good on his promise. The very next day, he was back in your room, claiming to pay for your services but not laying a finger on you. All you did was talk, discussing your lives and ways to make them better. He offered his help, his knowledge, being that he was twenty-plus years your senior. It was incredibly relieving to have such a dominant male figure in your life that was also kind, and loving. John didn’t care because he had to, or because he knew he’d get something in return. John cared because it was in his nature to.

“Have you ever been with a woman before?”

“Plenty.” John chuckled, eating the dinner he’d packed for the two of you.

Smiling, you glance down at your plate of food. “I mean… here? In a place like this?”

This time, his answer is said with a low sigh, nodding his head as he mumbles quietly, “Plenty.” But then he’s lifting his head, waiting for your eyes to meet his again. “But none of them have ever been as lovely as you.”

It was on the third night that you made a small advance, helpless to the attraction you had for him. He was incredibly handsome, smart and kind, skilled and strong. Saving up money for your escape was going to take a few days, but you didn’t mind, not as long as you had his company.

He accepted it, allowing you to crawl slowly onto his lap. You were entirely clothed, and so was he, but it did nothing to dull the heat in your bellies. You straddled him, bringing his uncertain hands to your hips. Your movements were careful and calculated, you didn’t want to overstep with him. And you didn’t. With your delicate hands finding either side of his face, fingertips petting at his finely-groomed hair, he leaned in. John’s hands were gentle and kind, and so were his kisses.

Gradually, he built up the nerve to move his hands, fingers sliding along your lower back and caressing your covered skin. The first night you met him he smelled like sweat and smoke, but every night since then, he’d smelled fresh. He kept his appearance up for you. And kissing him then allowed you to smell and taste the freshness of his breath, the hint of bourbon on his lips.

“You don’t deserve this.” He mumbled against you, eyes still closed as he pressed his lips to yours.

“I deserve you.”

John never saw himself as a man that would spend nights in brothels. But that night, he did.

It was the next day that he took you to the woman’s shelter, about forty miles north of where he stayed. During the week he cared for you, he made it his mission to keep you safe, to make sure no other men would lay their hands on you. But watching you walk away that day, it really killed him. He couldn't protect you anymore, but he had to keep his faith, faith in his plan and the fact that this was the best route for you. He did his best for you.

Snapping out of your haze is the abrupt opening of John’s door. It’s him, walking in with only a pair of sweats hanging on his waist. His navy blue boxers are peeking out along his hips, the hair on his chest gleaming with a small hint of dampness.

The mutton chops along his cheeks lift up with his smile, how cute. He likes seeing you all cuddled up on his bed. With a small grunt, he settles in beside you, resting his back along the wooden headboard of his bed. And then you do something that makes his heart soar; you lay your head on his lap.

Looking down, he grins, brushing your hair out of your face. “Haven’t been gettin’ into any more trouble, have ya?”

“I think you know the answer to that.” Comes your quiet reply, trying to force humor into your voice.

Looking up, you admit quietly, “I missed you.” It’s been six months, and you didn't know if you’d ever see each other again.

Inhaling sharply, he replies with a sympathetic nod, “I missed you too, angel.” Gently, he pets your head, doing his best to ease any of your worries. “Still just as beautiful, aren’t you?”

It was hard for him to let you go, and honestly, he’s glad you wanted him to stay with you, whether it be in his or your room. If he were here by himself, he knows he’d just be thinking about you.

Internally, you ponder your reaction. He’s been a bit flirtatious since your reconnection, and it makes you buzz inside. And honestly, it makes you want to reciprocate. Taking a beat from your first sensual act, you lift yourself, gradually crawling onto his lap.

With a big smile, he watches you move, feeling your limbs wrap around his body in a firm hug once you’re fully straddling him. Those strong arms hold you tight against his chest, feeling your face nuzzle into his neck. Breathing in his scent, you sigh. Now, you really do feel safe.

Lifting your head, you inhale a breath, taking in the sight of him. Of his bushy facial hair and pretty blue eyes, his smooth lips and clear skin. Just like before, when you first did this, you can feel his muscles resting beneath you. And with him shirtless, they’re more prominent than ever before. The hair on his chest makes you grin, the muscles in his chest and abdomen firm and warm, just like you remember them.

“John…” Fingers gliding over his beard, you release a heavy breath. And he does, too.

“I know,” He says, licking his lower lip. “C’mere.”

With his hand on your cheek, you let him guide you in, meeting his lips. It feels like a mini zap of excitement but it also feels like home. His scruffy facial hair rubs against you, trailing over and tickling your lips as you accept him.

When both your palms find his face, his right hand drops back down to your waist. Gently, he squeezes you, a light moan vibrating across your lips. A great sensation of satisfaction overcomes him. He’s contemplating keeping you this time. And you’re hoping for the exact same thing.

Now that he’s in your arms again, you don’t want to let him go. And if you have to, then you don’t want to have any regrets. You want him; even if it’s just for tonight, you want him.

John moves his lips over your own nice and slow, taking his time with you. He’s soft and gentle, listening to your quiet hums and eventual moans as they spill into the room. Repeated connections make your insides stir, your fingers curling into the hair along his jaw as he continues to make you breathless.

Amidst the excitement of it all, your hips begin shifting over his lap, testing the waters of your intimate act. And to say he’s shocked by this would be an understatement. With everything in him, he wants you to continue, wants you to do it naked, but instead, he stops it. Feeling his hand plant firmly along your hips, he successfully ceases your movement.

“You don’t have to do that.” He tells you gruffly, looking into your eyes. “You won’t ever have to do that again.”

“Do what?” You’re whispering, the moment feeling tender. Like it could shatter at any moment.

“Fuck a man for payment.” His words are blatant, raw.

“I, I don’t…” Gulping, you release a shaky breath. Everything leading up to this point has given you the impression that he finds you attractive, that he’s interested in you. So, why is he rejecting you? “You don’t want me?”

His response is immediate. “Don’t ask me that.” John doesn’t ever want you to feel pressured into that, not in general and especially not with him.

“You don’t?”

“Princess,” Releasing a harsh breath, those cerulean eyes bore into your own, a sense of longing swirling within them. “Of course I do.”

“Then be with me,” It comes out before you can stop it, but you don’t regret it. “Please be with me.”

Shuffling on his lap, you move in even closer, holding his handsome face in your hands.

“I’ve missed you so much, John. I, I’ve never had someone like you in my life.” All he can do is stare into your eyes, and his stare is full of so much genuine love for you. “I know I can be a burden, I know you’ve had to take care of me, but… I like it, I really like it, baby.”

A heavy breath is forced out of his nose at that word, the first time you've ever called him baby.

“You’re never a burden.” He tells you firmly, shaking his head. “You’ve never been a burden to me.” And it’s true. Everything he did, he did willingly. “I want you to depend on me. Because I’m here.”

“I know you are.” And now, you’re whispering, bringing yourself in to rest your forehead against his.

The dim glow of the room makes the moment feel that much more special to you. His fingertips continue to caress your back, now dipping beneath the edge to feel your skin.

“That doesn’t mean you have to do this.”

“I know that!” You state passionately, “Who says I have to? I haven’t, ugh.” Closing your eyes, you release a quiet yet frustrated breath. “I haven’t done that in months.”

“Good.” John’s response is stern, “That was my hope for you.”

Sliding your hands down his face, they land on his chest. “John, it’s okay if you don’t want me. But I need you to know that I want you; and if I could, I’d keep you.”

Your words stir every emotion inside his chest. It’s all he��s been wanting to hear, all he’s fantasized about since the day you left. He can’t count how many times you’ve floated into his head, day or night, friendly or sexual; it’s like you never truly left him.

“Well, who says you can’t?” Leaning up a bit, he moves into your space, hands becoming possessive as he grabs you.

With a small breath, almost a gasp, the edges of your lips turn up into a grin, fully leaning into him.

“Think you’re gonna leave again?” He asks gruffly, dominant hand rising to the back of your neck. Now, he’s less than a hair’s breadth away from your face, dark blue eyes dipping down to your lips before returning to your twinkling orbs.

“I don’t want to.”

“Yeah…” Looking between your eyes, he gives his head a single shake. “I don’t want you to either.”

Pushing you forward is the force of his hand on the back of your neck, your lips meeting once again. This time, the hand on your hip urges you forward, John sighing heavily into the kiss. Both hands remain on his handsome face as you let him move you like this, rolling your hips over his.

“You sure you want me like this?” That low voice asks with a laugh. “Old captain in the military?”

“You’re exactly what I want.”

Not allowing a response is the movement of your mouth, the gentle slide of your tongue. Your body movements seem urgent but the way you kiss him is tender, languid and sweet. And now that you’re truly mouthing at him, the tent in his pants is more than apparent.

Your collective motions have become heated, John’s kisses becoming passionate and sloppy. Timidly, his hands wander down to your legs, squeezing the soft flesh of your outer thighs. Because you know he won’t do it himself, at least not yet, you reach down to slip your longsleeve up and off your head.

“A burden,” Price huffs, eyes dipping down to your chest. “Do you know how lovely it is?” Another sloppy kiss, another heavy breath. “How lovely it is to take care of a little girl like you?”

“John,”

Pressing yourself to him again, he feels the softness of your chest over his, and he groans. You’re still wearing a sports bra, but with how eager you were to take your top off, he knows he’ll be able to rid you of that soon.

“It’s perfect, so perfect.” Sliding one of his hands down, it lands on your backside, massaging you kindly. “Feeling needed by you.”

He hasn’t been wanted in this way for so long, longer than he cares to admit. Women in brothels weren’t the same as you, they didn’t want a relationship with him. But you yearn for him, he can so clearly see it.

“I couldn’t stand to see you leave.”

“I know,” Remembering that day hurts your heart, you were convinced you’d never see him again. “I didn’t want you to go.”

“You’re a strong girl.” He expresses, his praise heating your body. “Could’ve made it without me.”

“But I don’t want to. I don’t want you to leave again,” Rolling your hips over his lap, you can feel the occasional pulse from his tip. “Please don’t go, not again.”

“I’m not,” John’s lips have barely left your own, only for a short breath and a handful of words. “I’m not going anywhere, princess.”

Securing one strong arm around your lower back, he changes your positioning. With gentle movements, the captain turns, laying you down on your back in the center of his bed.

“I’ll show you what it’s like.” He promises, kissing your cheek while settling above your body. “Show you how a real man treats a woman, yeah?”

Smiling, you run your hands up the sides of his face, fingers carding through his hair.

“Yes, baby.”

“Oh,” John groans low, leaning in to press his lips to your neck. “I like the sound of that.” Making his way down your throat, your collarbone, and now to your chest, his eyes find yours once again. “Can I take this off, love?”

Thick fingers toy with the edges of your sports bra, your expression going soft as you nod. You love hearing him speak to you like this. And after you’ve given him permission, he’s sliding it up and off your beautiful body, hearing your small breaths hitch.

“Oh, Christ…” Immediately, his eyes are on your breasts, leaning back a bit so he can cup you with both hands. “Such a beauty.”

Diving back down, his open mouth finds your chest, giving your soft flesh sloppy yet passionate kisses. Gasping, you find yourself arching against him, into him, cradling his head as those smooth lips wrap around the peak of your breast.

“John, yes…”

“That feel good, sweetheart?” Licking the pad of his thumb, he then rubs it against the nipple he hasn’t yet sucked. Glancing up, he witnesses your euphoric expression, your head tossed back and lips open in a silent moan.

Happy with this, he gives your solar plexus a kiss, continuing to work his way down. He gives time to every space he can reach, using his mouth to appreciate your breasts, your ribcage, your belly and pelvis. Occasionally, he’ll nip at your thin skin, but never enough to leave a mark.

“What about these?” Pressing his lips to the hem of your sweatpants, he speaks his inquiry gently, so quiet you almost couldn’t hear it.

“Yes, John. Yes, please.”

As he slides them down, he continues his worship of your body, licking the sweet flesh of your grabbable thighs. When your pants are discarded, and you’re entirely naked for him, he leans back to take it all in.

Laying a hand over your lower belly, he rubs up and down, sighing. “You’re perfect.”

“Baby…” Your own hands find his forearm, caressing him.

“I want you all to myself,” Bringing himself back down, he shuffles between your legs. “You know that?”

“I know.” You confirm, your words light and airy as his breath fans over your naked sex.

“Darling, she’s so pretty…” And he’s talking about your pussy, the way it flutters when he spreads your delicate lips. “Can I touch her, love? Looks like she’s waiting for me.”

The gentle roll of your hips is all it takes for his tongue to drag up your sensitive center. You never expected him to ask permission like this, and for each little thing. But you understand it; he doesn’t know what you’ve endured in the past, and he wants to be a gentleman. He won’t take what isn’t given to him.

The rough hairs of his beard scrape against your inner thighs, rubbing over your skin as his mouth moves. It’s continuous, the firm drag of his tongue up your center while his first and middle fingers keep you spread. And the taste of you on his tongue is making him go mad, your tangy-sweet flavor finally available to him. Settling in, he savors it, wrapping his arms under your legs and over your pelvis, grabbing onto your hips when you begin to wiggle beneath him.

Every shudder, every little whimper, he pays attention to. If it’s the last thing he ever does, he wants to make sure you feel good.

“Oh, right there, huh?” He inquires cockily, feeling you jerk in his touch when the tip of his tongue dances over your clit. “Right above the hood…” And then he’s doing it again, fingers tightening their hold while you writhe from it.

Your moans are wanton, desperate, your hips rolling up toward his face whenever he leaves to take a breath. But it makes him smile all the same, your neediness.

“J-John,”

“Gotta be quiet, love.” He mutters, leaning in to suck on your lips. “Mm… boys are right down the hall.”

“I-I can’t, I…”

You can feel your thighs shaking, and so can he. Pinning your legs down, his broad shoulders keep them open, his mouth incessant as he continues to taste you. He switches from tongue-fucking your center to swirling the tip of it around your clit, but when he suctions his mouth to that little bundle of pleasure, that’s when you lose it.

“Baby, babybabybaby.”

He’s sucking on you, and doing so sloppily. The soft wetness of it echoes throughout the room, your fingers curling into his plain bedspread as you do your best to relax.

“Quiet, now.” He chastises gently, feeling the tremble in your lower belly. With sweet touches, he pets at your upper pelvis, soothing you. “Quiet for me.”

Your small cries are nearly helpless, every desperate whimper spilling from your lips. He’s licking your clit, that wet, warm tongue rolling against it. And everything about it is so perfect, the way he’s touching you, the way he’s handling you and speaking to you.

“John, I’m gonna,” Releasing an airy laugh, you finish with. “You’re gonna make me cum.”

“C’mon, then.” He encourages without a lick of hesitation. “Why don’t you do it for me, eh? Right in my mouth.”

“Fuck me,” Reaching down, your fingers find his hair, curling into those gorgeous brown locks.

Rutting up, he lets you use his face, rolling your hips over his mouth while he lays his tongue out for you. The entire act has his body vibrating with energy and excitement, and you haven’t even touched him yet. It’s the fact that he’s pleasuring you, that’s what’s really getting to him.

When you really start to shake, his hands lower to your backside, squeezing you harshly as you reach your peak. He’s groaning into you, listening to your shrill cry. And with as loud as it is, he can tell you’re doing your best to be quiet.

Clinging to him is what keeps you grounded, what keeps you from floating too far away. It shivers through your body, blooming from your hips and spreading everywhere. When you start to jerk too much, or move too far away, his hands are back on your hips, keeping you down. But he works you through it; he’s patient and continues to lick you, even when your body begins to come down.

“Precious thing,” His face is wet with you, his beard; you can tell from the feeling of it rubbing along your inner thighs.

Opening your legs wider, you inhale a steady breath, keeping your eyes closed as you relax. Below, John licks his lips, placing one last, tender kiss before climbing over you.

“Come on,” He coos, kissing your cheek with slippery lips. “Come back to me.”

Even through his sweatpants, you can feel how big he is, how heavy he’s hanging between his legs. “John,” You whine from it, opening your eyes to find his. Reaching up, you caress his face in your hands, even though it’s wet with your slick. “Please.”

“Please what, gorgeous?”

“Please fuck me.”

He’s surprised by your wording, he’d assumed you’d say something softer to him. But he likes it; it shows that you’re becoming more comfortable like this.

“Christ,” With a grunt, he’s sitting up and leaning back on his heels. “Thought you’d never ask.”

Grinning, his fingers curl into the hem of his pants and boxers, sliding them down his muscular legs. You giggle when he side-steps out of them, his weight dipping on the bed. But your giggles quickly subside when you see him, leaking and red.

“Oh…” Leaning up with a small moan, you reach out for him, your delicate fingers wrapping around his shaft. “Baby.”

“You like it?” He wonders aloud, glancing down.

He’s thick in your hand, and lengthy. He’s cut too and nicely trimmed, a small bit of hair still remaining. Which you like; John’s body hair makes you feel hot inside.

“Yes.” It comes out as a small whine, a breath of disbelief. You can’t believe you finally have him like this. “Baby… you’re so big.”

“You flatter me, angel.” He grins, shaking his head. But that cocky attitude fades when you swipe your thumb over his tip, his sticky precum sliding over his reddened head. “Fuck me.”

Huffing out a few breaths, he lets you do this, lets your hand stroke him languidly. “I, uh…” Glancing up, you give him your sweetest expression, prompting his stutter to continue. “Don’t, I don’t have a condom, sweetheart.”

“That’s okay, baby.”

“Still want me?”

“Mhm.” Your reassuring smile is a gift to him, a breath of relief falling from his lips.

“I… hate to ask, but…” Clearing his throat, he reaches down, stopping your motions. “Haven’t got anything to worry about, have I?” Now that he’s thinking about it, he probably should've asked before going down on you. Hindsight is 20/20, but your answer reassures him all the same.

“I’m clean, baby. They tested me at the shelter, came with the health program you paid for.” Something about your words make him feel proud, knowing he was able to successfully care for you.

With a blissful grin, you reach out for him, grabbing his shoulders and gently guiding him back in. Slowly falling back to the bed, he settles above you once again. John’s talented lips find you again, his naked pelvis resting above your own. His kiss is brief, eyes glancing down as he angles himself between your legs.

“I’m so thankful for you.” Whispering into his ear, you grin, kissing the shell of it.

With a low breath, something like a groan, John buries his face into your shoulder, the sloped tip of him rubbing against your outer entrance.

You haven’t had sex in more than six months, and your traumas are definitely still there. But everything about John screams safety to you, safety and security. And you want him to have you.

Lifting your legs, you rest the soles of your feet on his bedding, your arms encircling his neck. John’s humid breath fans against your shoulder and throat, a small moan floating from his chest when he truly slides in. His tip stretches you, but not painfully so, thanks to his extensive foreplay. But the deeper he dives, the fuller you feel, and from the emotions of it all you think you could cry.

“John,”

“I know, sweetheart. Almost there.” He coos lovingly to you, releasing a heavy sigh when his pelvis meets the sensitive space between your legs. “That’s it, that’s it, darling.”

Fingernails scraping into his back, you whine when he rolls his hips, not at all pulling out but just grinding into you. Both of those large arms slide beneath your back, holding you tightly against his muscular frame.

“Like that,” That gruff voice tells you, his hips now retracting. “Those cute little whines.”

“Baby, more.”

“Eager thing,” He comments, returning to your warmth at a slightly quicker pace.

“I’ve been eager for you since the day I met you.” Comes your breathy admission, nails trailing down his sculpted back.

His pace is passionate, sensual and sweet - exactly highlighting tonight’s mood. Every time he leaves your sex he’s diving back in like he’d never get a taste of it ever again. Even without force, he’s hitting you deep, throbbing against your warm channel whenever he feels you clench.

“H-Harder, baby.” You’re whining, gasping beneath his weight. “Please.”

Lifting himself slightly, John’s left hand reaches down to your hip, putting his entire weight into keeping you still. With his other, he lifts it to rest on his forearm, breaths ragged and heavy as he shoves himself into you. And he does it exactly as you requested, not going fast but applying more pressure and intensity.

“Oh, I’ve wanted you.”

“I want you, John. Please, let me see you ag -” But then you’re crying out, feeling his tip punch against your sensitive spot. “Again, please let me see you again.”

“You’re staying here until I say.” He declares, “You’re staying with me.”

Absolute relief washes through your bones, your limbs tingling with continuous waves of pleasure and it’s from him, all of it is from him.

“We’ll move your things.” John promises, grunting with every thrust. “In here, we’ll bring them here. Keep ‘em with you and me.”

“Really, baby?”

“You think I’m gonna let you out of my sight? Darling, you’re mine.” The rough drag of his length along your walls is debilitatingly blissful, the wetness from his tongue and your high aiding in the smoothness of his thrusts. “You’ve been mine from the start.”

It’s overwhelming, his words and the things he’s doing to your body. You’ve wanted this for longer than you can remember, to be held in a man’s embrace. But not any man, not a man that treated you like a commodity. A man like him. Who cared for you, mentally and physically, who did his best to protect you and nurture your well-being. To keep you with him, to help you grow and in turn, help him.

“L-Love you, John.” Head snapping up, those stunning blue orbs search for your own.

What did she say?

Meeting his eyes with an all too tender expression, you repeat fully this time, “I love you so much.”

Your name is breathed out of his mouth, the hand on your hip leaving to find your cheek. He cups you firmly, lowering himself to meet your lips. And you like it better like this, when you can hold him.

“Sweetheart,” The crack in his voice makes your lips break out into a wondrous grin, his emotions seeping out of him. “I loved you then,” Kissing your cheek, he leans in, pressing his forehead to your temple. “And I love you still.”

And John absolutely basks in the presence of your love, in your sweet words and the way you cling to him. You’re his now, his to care for and protect. And he hopes he can give you that, he knows he can give you that.

“I’ll treat you right, angel.” He’s devoted to you; a woman has never had such a hold on him before you. “I’ll keep you safe, keep you happy, yeah?”

Fingers curling into his hair, you lift your hips, meeting his every thrust. And it makes him choke on his own breath, makes his throat go dry from how harshly he groans.

“Let me be that for you, let me take care of you.”

“John, yes. I want, I want that. Want to be with you.”

“Then you will be.” He can feel the way you pulse around him, the way your nails scratch at his skin and the way your lips suction to his neck. It’s all-consuming, you’re pulling him in. He’s falling into an abyss that he never wants to be free of. “I’ll give you the goddamn world, princess.”

“Just don’t go.” Moaning, you feel the muscles in his stomach tense, the erratic jut of his thrusts. “Please don’t leave me again.”

Forcing himself into you a half a dozen more times, and he’s spilling inside, shoving himself in as deep as he can go. And even through all the ringing in his ears, he hears one thing. Only you.

Thoughts of what could be flash through his mind, a life with you. Pleasure bursts through his core as he rides out his high, rocking his hips into your center, keeping your body close. You’ve left at least a handful of hickies on his chest, marks he’s eager to see in the morning. But he can wait for that, his goal right now is to cherish you.

Painfully, he’s reminded of the image he was met with when he rescued you. Gagged and bloody, bruised from top to bottom while tied to a rusty chair. He’ll never forgive himself for letting that happen to you.

“Never.” He promises, chest heaving as he attempts to steady his breaths. Both hands slide around your body once again, pressing your breasts against him. Your soft giggles make him grin, his facial hair tickling your skin. Sweetly, he kisses you, looking into your eyes as he says, “Never again.”

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