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writing-mlm · 1 month ago

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Will you love me again?

Summary: Simon’s returned home after 20 years but the suitors have finally grown restless of waiting for you to pick a new King of Ithaca. Pairing: King!Simon Riley x King!Ftm!reader Wc: 6.1k Tags/Warning: Canon-level violence, talks/planning of S/A, Epic the Musical Ithaca Saga spoilers! Most of the words are literally lyrics so ig song fic, oral (r!receiving), fingering, stomach bulge, reader has a vagina, no protection, creampie

His skin remembers the touch of your lips, the way they’d press against his tense muscles, the way they’d kiss his scars and carry soft whispers and songs. How your hands would touch him, run up his arms, cradle his face, and remove his helmet. He remembers the sound of your voice, how you’d talk to him while weaving against the window, your kingdom standing below your castle.

The castle he’d built all those years ago as a declaration of his love for you. A castle that grew colder as the years stretched on since he’s been there; taken away for a war.

A war, born from a greedy man kidnapping your cousin. A war Simon hadn’t wanted to participate in because, despite his oath to your cousin's husband, the Trojans have never helped Ithaca in their times of need. And even more so, he had you, his husband, and your newborn to watch over. To protect. He’d only agreed to help after he’d been tricked.

A war that was supposed to be no more than five years had turned into a twenty-year journey. He’d left a twenty-year-old, rising to power in Ithaca with a newborn son. Now he’s forty, his home just out of sight, and his son would be twenty. He imagines how you must look now. How your hair must’ve greyed, how you picked the hyacinths and bluebells from the garden.

He wonders how his son is doing, what he likes, and what he’s accomplished. How he’s missed his whole life.

Simon strains as he pushes the raft from the island, the goddess he left on the sandy shores crying for him. Begging him to stay; she loves him. He loathes her. He loathes the years he’s stayed trapped on that island, how she’d been persistent on loving him. Gods, provided she wasn’t a goddess, he would’ve killed her the first time she even hinted at such.

His head hurts when he remembers his fallen friends; Gaz, Price— and Johnny. He’d gotten his brother killed, he let all of them, all six hundred men die under his watch. The cyclops, Scylla, Circe— Zeus, Poseidon. He recognizes the pain turning into red-hot anger as he pushes past Charybdis. These past years cannot have been in vain. The souls that haunt his dreams won’t have died in vain.

He’ll make it home, he’s sure of that.

—

You stare at the suitors gathered at the palace gates, angry men eager to become the next king one way or another. All the while your son, Johnny, stands in front of them with a spear and your old armor. You know that look in his eyes, that Athena's determination he has because Simon had it, too.

You sigh, undoing the threads you’d made the day before. For the funeral shroud you’ve been making for ten years with the promise that once it’s done, you’ll pick from the suitors and give Ithaca a new king. You almost laugh when you remember how many years ago that had been now. How foolish the suitors had been to agree to your demand. How you fear you’ll have to finish it one of these days.

You look at your sword hung in the corner of the room. You remember your newly made armor, tucked in your closet, the new bow and arrow next to it. You remember the feeling of warm blood on your hands.

Even if you must finish the shroud they’ll never get their wishes. No one will rule alongside you and if you must, you’ll take a queen. Perhaps some common woman with nothing better to do; drown her with all the things a queen would desire all the while you continue your duties as king.

Standing, you close the curtains to the window and grab your sword. It feels like home in your hands, reminders of your time as a warrior of Sparta and then Ithaca. You’ve never forgotten your lessons, the teachings so ingrained in your very being they feel like second nature when you swipe the air.

It’ll need to be sharpened before tomorrow.

That night a storm rages on the coast of Ithaca. You watch from the balcony, the wind blowing your hair and clothes as you try to see inside of the storm. Poseidon fights, you can tell that much, and gods, you know in your bones. You know it’s time to set your plan in motion.

You call a maid to send the news; the Challenge you’d set up after five years of Simon being gone was happening. You rush to gather Simon’s old bow, carefully undoing the string while the servants gather twelve axes from the armory.

—

“I’ll be back soon,” Johnny promises the next morning. You stand at the pier, watching as he loads onto a boat; about to head off for a mission for the kingdom.

“I know you will,” You smile, giving him a dagger that he places on his thigh strap. You don’t pretend to notice the group of angry suitors hiding behind ships, watching as you watch your son leave. Leaving you alone for who knows how long, the mission shouldn’t take longer than a day, though.

As the ship leaves, you look at where the storm had raged, sure that you see a small object floating towards Ithaca shores. You smile, hanging your head before thanking whatever God had allowed him home and return to the castle. The suitors follow, ready for the challenge you’d sent messengers to talk about that morning. You ride your horse back, letting them climb the mountain to the castle as you prepare for what’s to come.

Their footsteps are heavy, echoing in the halls as a maid guides them to the throne room. You sit at your throne, the half-finished shroud draped over Simon’s throne. His crown sits under it, shining like the first day it was made. A reminder to them and yourself that your husband is out there, that they’ll never sit on that throne as long as you’re alive.

As you look around, you inhale and look over the crowd of men. There are dozens of them, some bigger, some smaller. All of them hungry for power, all of them greedy in a way that makes your stomach turn.

You stand, shoulders back and head held high as hold back a deep, etching frown.

“The Challenge,” You start as the murmurs die into a silence that had overtaken the castle all those years ago. You grip the bow, raising it in the air for everyone to see. “Whoever can string my husband's old bow and shoot through twelve axes cleanly,” Your gaze travels to the axes, lined up in a straight line, the hole only just big enough to allow an arrow to slide through. “Will be the new king and rule with me.” Cheers echo through the halls and you hand the bow to the first suitor before you take your seat. Your throne.

You hope Simon knows that you’re buying him time; that you’ve bought him twenty years of time to return. That he’ll climb the mountain from the shores to the castle before they grow behind restless. Bloodthirsty with one goal on their mind. You hope your son doesn’t come back to see you in such a state if Simon doesn’t make it on time.

They grow more frustrated as the hours tick by and they find that no one can string the bow. Eventually, the sun sets and you tell them they can try again tomorrow. They all agree, with some grumbles and you take the bow back from a suitor who bares his teeth at you. He resembles a beast, a beast that you don’t dignify with a reaction.

—

“Screw this competition,” A man that Simon knows all too well, Graves, snarls as he tosses his old bow to the ground. “We’ve been here for hours. None of us can string this; we don’t have the power. Screw this damn challenge!” He rakes his hands through his hair, the stress clear in his actions that make Simon proud. Of course, you’d set up something only he could do, of course, you’d waited all these years for him to return.

“No more delay. Don’t you see that we’ve been played?” Grave’s eyes travel amongst the men crowded around him. Men that are so easily swayed by simple words that it makes Simon seethe. “This is how he holds us down as the throne gets colder. Hold us down as we slowly age. Hold us down while the boy gets bolder.” Grave continues, daring to even hint about Simon and your son. “Where the hell is our pride and our rage?” A couple of the men agree, egged on by each other's stupidity.

“Here and now,” Another man says as Grave smirks; clearly his plan is working. Like a moth to a flame, they take his bait. “There’s a chance for action; we can take control. Here and now we can burn it to ashes.” Too big for his pants, Simon assumes.

He leaves for a moment, gathering their weapons and hiding them in the armory, making sure to leave it unlocked before he returns to their conversation. By that point more men had gathered; you’d long since left the throne room so Simon didn’t worry about you hearing their voices any longer.

“Haven’t you noticed who’s missing? Don’t you notice the prince is not around? I heard he’s on a diplomatic mission and I heard today he's coming back to town.” Grave continues, and crosses his arms over his chest. Simon’s eyes dart down from his place in the room, overlooking the shores of Ithaca as a boat slowly approaches.

“So…?” A different man speaks from somewhere in the crowd.

“I say we gather near the beaches. We wait till he arrives, then when he docks his ship I say we breach it. Let us leave now, today we can strike!” Grave doesn’t feel the sharp glare that hits his head as he speaks. Unaware that his words have just set his fate into motion; a fate that Simon has become oh so familiar with these past twenty years.

“Hold him down, till the boy stops shaking.”

He counts the men; seventy in total.

“Hold him down, while I slit his throat.”

He’s taken down worse. More.

“Hold him down, while I slowly break his pride, his trust, his faith, and his bones!”

He can’t wait to watch them bleed. The feeling of their blood on his hands; something he hadn’t realized could feel so good until now. He wanted to chase it like they plan on chasing you and your son.

“Cut him down into tiny pieces. Throw him down in the great below that way when the crown wonders where the prince is only the ocean and I will know.”

Watch their light leave their eyes; hear their screams. Beg him to spare them. The gurgling sound as they choke on their own blood.

“And when it’s done,” Grace smirks. “The king will have no one to stop us from breaking his bedroom door. Stop us from taking his love and more. And then we’ll…”

He’ll savor Graves the most, he quickly decides. He won’t dignify him with a fast death. He’ll hurt him, hold him down, and break his bones. He’ll drag him by his legs into town, parading him around to not only show he’s home to his throne, to his husband and his son but to show that anyone who had thought any different will face the same consequences.

“Hold him down.”

“While the gate is open.”

“Hold him down.”

“While I get a taste and we share his spoils. I will not let any part go to waste.”

He rises from his spot, his hand a deathly grip on his knife as the men try to leave the halls, one of them pointedly staggering behind. Drunk on wine. The perfect way to announce himself.

He doesn’t waste a second, stabbing the man in the throat and he watches as he gurgles on his own blood as he returns to his perfectly hidden spot. He watches with glee as the light leaves his eyes, staring down at him as his body goes limp.

The men stop at the door, having heard the noise. When they turn they only see a dead man and then nothing around him. Quicker than they can react, the torches around them snuff out one by one, and then the door behind them locks. Like rats they scramble, searching frantically on the ground for anything they can use to defend themselves.

“Twenty years,” Simon growls. “I suffered from the wrath of Gods and monsters to the screams of my comrades. Watched my men die like cattle. I come back to my palace, desecrated and sacked like Troy. Worst of all,” He reaches into the darkness, grabbing a random man who shouts, tugging at Simon’s wrist to be let go.

“I hear you dare to touch my husband and hurt my boy! I… have had… enough.” He snaps the man’s neck in three motions before stepping over his now limp body as he watches the men scramble in the dark. He supposes he should thank Calypso for living on such a dark island, now he can watch them as they scramble for torches. Lighting them with the nearby lighters.

He grabs his bow, stringing it with ease while the others run in the castle. The darkness that shrouds them is emphasized by the setting sun. Simon struts after them, listening to their footsteps and breathing like a predator.

“We have the advantage; we’ve the numbers and the might.” A man says, clearly not knowing who he’s up against.

“No!” Shouts a man who does, he wonders if they fought together before. Somehow that makes him all the more angry as he grabs an arrow from his quiver. “You don’t understand! This man plans for every fight.” An arrow flies through the air, stabbing him through the neck and the others shout, watching as he drops and the torch rolls away from his limp hand. Everyone scrambles away, fleeing down the hall.

“Where is he? Where is he?” Someone shouts, his eyes as wide as they can go and he looks into the darkness.

“Keep your heads down, he's aiming for the torches!” Someone else hisses and they all duck, holding the torches as high as they can manage without dropping it.

“Our weapons! They’re missing!” Simon grins at the fear in the man’s tone, stringing another arrow.

“We’re empty-handed,” Someone says, the realization that they’re fucked dawning on him. “Up against an archer.” He mutters, looking around the dark room.

“Our only chance is to strike him in the darkness. We know these halls our odds can be titled.” Someone tries to comfort him before flinching at the sound of Simon’s snicker.

“You don’t think I know my own palace? I built it!” Another arrow flies, hitting a man in the head. He walks after them as they run away.

“It’s the old king!”

“No! Our leader is dead!”

“Old king forgive us!”

“Let’s have open arms instead!” He stops walking, notching yet another arrow as he’s reminded of Gaz. His chest tightens when he remembers his friend, his brother.

“No,” The arrow flies, he doesn’t care to see who it lands inside of. He knows Graves isn’t with this group and heads the other way; towards where he’d hidden their weapons. He’ll deal with the others later, for now only one person has a giant target on their back.

“Dammit,” Grave hisses as he opens the door to the armory. “He’s more cunning than I thought. While we were plotting he hid our weapons in here.” He waves the torch through the room, each weapon highlighted by the burning flame.

“I find it hard to believe that the sharpest of kings left his armory unlocked,” A man mutters, his frantic eyes looking outside of the room because he knows what’s out there, waiting for him.

“So what?” Grave scoffs as he grabs his sword. “Let’s make the bastard rot.”

“Behind you!” He spins, watching as Simon stabs a man through the chest with a sword, his piercing eyes glaring at Graves over the man’s shoulder. The man collapses to the floor while Simon takes the sword out, flicking the blood onto the walls.

“Put the weapons down and I’ll spare you,” He tells the men and immediately they do but Graves doesn’t. Simon tilts his head, eyes flickering to the ten men around Graves.

“How do you dare? Haven’t you seen what he’ll do to us?” Someone asks him, his hands held up in fear.

“The prince!” Someone shouts and Simon makes the mistake of looking behind him. The men in the armory jump on his back without hesitation, shouting to attack the prince that way he’ll have to stand down. Simon struggles against them, his sword clattering to the ground when he sees the torches illuminating his son.

He chokes as he sees his son falling to the ground, scrambling to his dagger that had gotten thrown in the fight.

“Stop struggling and we’ll show you mercy,” Grave whispers in Simon’s ear, holding his hair in an iron-tight grip.

“Mercy?” A voice cuts and Simon feels blood running down his cloak. He hears the sound of someone being impaled and then another in quick succession. The weight on his back lessens and he charges forward.

“Mercy?” Simon bellows, taking harsh steps toward the now-fallen Graves. Unable to find his footing again as more men die around him. “My mercy long since drowned. It died to bring me home. And as long as you're around my family's fate is left unknown. You plotted to kill my son.” In one motion he scoops Graves up, bringing him to his feet and then against the wall. The tip of his blade presses against the man’s neck as his eyes squeeze shut, feet trying to find purchase aside from the tips of his toes on the cold marble floors.

“You planned to rape my husband! All of you are going to die!” He stabs Graves six times, huffing as the body slumps against him and then against the wall when Simon shoves him away.

He stands tall, listening to the shouts of the scared, trapped men as their fates quickly find them. He knows who is fighting at his side; he knows so well but he doesn’t register it until everyone is dead. Until the torches line the walls and he sees his foes splayed on the floors.

“Father?” The sword in his hand clatters to the ground as he spins around. Johnny stands where he was once pinned down, blood dusting his tunic and his face. None of which is his own, Simon thanks the gods for that fact.

“Son,” His voice cracks as he takes a step forward. His chest heaves as he looks at his boy, and how he’s grown into a man. Johnny rushes forward, pulling him into a hug.

“I’ve waited my whole life for you. Twenty years,” He cries into Simon’s chest, his sobs growing as he feels his father's tight embrace.

“Oh my son, look how much you’ve grown,” He whispers, fighting back his own tears. “Oh, my boy. My sweetest joy. I captured the wind and sky for you.”

“My son, I'm finally home.” He finally cries, looking at his son's face for the first time in twenty years. He sees you in him, he sees himself. Simon presses his forehead to Johnny’s, holding the back of his neck as he cries. He cries and he weeps, relief, something he hasn’t felt in years, floods his body as all of the suffering he’s endured has been worth it.

“My love?” He hates to look away but he does, his chest tight when he sees you removing your helmet. Your sword stuck in some man’s chest as your feet carried you across the hall and into his arms.

He calls you, your name falling from his lips and you cry into his neck. You’d nearly forgotten the sound of it on his tongue.

“Is it you?” You ask, pushing away from him after the initial shock. He’d warned you all those years ago, not to trust anyone who looked like him. He knew the Gods and their tricks; you knew them, too. “Have my prayers been answered? Or am I dreaming again?”

“I am no’ the man you fell in love with,” He admits as your eyes scan over him. You pick apart everything about him that’s changed over the years as doubt creeps in the back of your mind. “I am not the man you once adored; I am not your kind and gentle husband and I am not the love you knew before.” You frown as he takes your hands, falling to his knees before looking up at you. With a gaze, you tell Johnny to leave the two of you for now.

“Would you fall in love with me again if you knew all I’ve done? The things I cannot change. Would you love me all the same? I know that you’ve been waiting for love.” He begs, his bleary eyes unable to look at anything but you.

You nod, holding his face before guiding him up to his feet. “What kind of things did you do?” His head dips down in shame as the two of you move to stand outside in your garden. Free of blood and bodies as you sit under the olive tree he’d planted for you all those years ago.

“Left a trail of blood on every island. I traded friends as though they were objects. Hurt more lives than I can count. But all so I could come back to you.” He cries, holding your face, his cries growing as you lean into the touch. “Tell me, please. Would you fall in love with me again?”

“If that’s true,” You start, moving his hand from your face and he falters, eyes darting between yours as if they’ll reveal your choice before your voice does. “Could you do me a favor?”

“Anything,” He nods.

“Just a moment of labor that would bring me some peace. See that wedding bed? Could you carry it over? Lift it high on your shoulders and take it far from here?” You ask, your eyes darting between his own as you wait. Wait as you’ve done for twenty long years.

“How could you say this?” He asks, his hand moving from your face. “I built that wedding bed with my blood and sweat. Carved it into the olive tree where we first met. A symbol of our love everlasting! Do you realize what you have asked me? The only way to move it is to cut it from its roots!” He shouts, almost standing due to the anger bubbling in him.

“Only my husband knew that!” You sob, holding his hands again. “You’re real! My Gods, you’re real!” He calls your name as you shudder. You shake your head, pulling him close as your hands search his body, holding him impossibly close.

“I will fall in love with you over and over again. I don’t care how, where, or when. No matter how long it’s been. You’re mine. Don’t tell me you’re not the same person, you’re always my husband and I’ve been waiting for you!” He blinks, brushing your tears from your face before he kisses you.

You crumble under his touch, your hands shaking as you cradle his face. He holds you tightly, pressing your armored chest flush against himself. You pull away first, tucking his now long blonde hair behind his ears to see his face properly.

—

You don’t get a chance to admire the new Simon, not between the kissing and his insisting that you share the bed with Johnny for the night. You agree, of course, the two of you squishing Simon while he happily holds the two of you in his arms as the night draws on.

Simon wakes up first, he’s gotten so used to being forced to share a bed with Calypso that he’d made his body wake up early to escape her. He looks at you and Johnny for a while, softly crying as he knows he’s home. Eventually, he gets up, hating the way the two of you whimper at the lost feeling between the two of you.

He doesn’t venture far, just far enough to grab a bowl of water and a blade. Settling in front of a mirror, he shaves his face for the first time since he set out to Troy and then cuts his hair. He’s never seen his grey hairs before. Despite knowing that he was aging while he was out there he hadn’t realized he was aging. He wasn’t twenty anymore, he certainly didn’t look it either.

He has scars on his face, he has grey hairs, he has the starts of wrinkles, eye bags— he could list them for hours.

He looks back at you as you sleep. At your grey hairs, at your wrinkles and he smiles. You’re just as beautiful as the day he met you.

Stepping towards the window he sees the castle workers dragging the bodies out of the castle and into a carriage. Tossing them unceremoniously and he makes his way down.

“Load them and wait. Do not touch them any further,” He tells one of the maids without looking at her, his gaze locked on the men who had dared to try and defile his family. “Send word to the people of Ithaca. Meet at the pier by noon.” She nods, waiting to be dismissed by the king but he turns on his heel and returns to your room.

You’re awake, rubbing your eyes as your sleepwear slips from your shoulder.

“Did I wake you?” He asks, crawling into the bed and kissing the exposed skin. You roll your head at the feeling, holding the back of his head to keep him in place.

“No,” You murmur, head against his. “I missed you.”

“I missed you, too,” He pulls you onto his lap and you let him, too tired to fight back as he lays down again. “Trust me, ‘m not leaving ever again.”

“I like the sound of that,” You yawn, rubbing Johnny’s hair as he reaches out for the two of you. “We need to get up, though. Clean the halls,”

“Already taken care of, love.” You hum, head resting on his bare chest, fingers tracing against his skin.

“You cut your hair,” You point out.

“Mhmm, like it?”

“Ask me later; ‘m too tired.” He chuckles and pets your cheek with his knuckles.

“Rest my love, I’m not going anywhere.”

The next time you wake up, he’s engrossed in a conversation with Johnny. He’s still holding you, but now it’s sitting up on the bed while Johnny all but bounces around the room. He talks about his own adventures with Athena, how he’d almost beat up Graves this one time, how you always kept a place for him. He talks about the stories he grew up hearing about the great King Simon of Ithaca.

Simon listens, committing his son's voice to memory while he inhales the smell of your hair.

A knock at the door stops their conversation and Simon calls for whoever it is to come in as he pulls the blanket over your body.

“It is nearly noon, King Simon.”

“Thank you,” He nods, watching the door close before he looks down at you. “How long have you been awake?” He chides upon seeing your very much awake eyes on him.

“Long enough,” You respond but make no action to move. “What’s at noon?”

“You’ll see.” He lifts you with ease, picking himself up in the process and you laugh, holding onto his shoulders while Johnny gags and rushes out of the room.

In the tub, Simon sits first, letting you slowly sit with him before he kisses you. His lips and teeth pull and suck at the skin of your neck while you coo, squeezing his shoulders. The cold water wakes you up more than the kisses do, but when his hand dives between your legs you swear you’re more than awake.

“Mmm-mm,” You shake your head as you reluctantly push his hands away, he pouts but doesn’t fight it. “I want it to be in bed. To reclaim it,” His pupils dilate at the idea, you feel his pulse against his wrist and you grin, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“I can do that,” He nods, instead moving his hands to start washing the two of you.

The two of you dress together in your finest tunics, adorning yourselves in the royal jewelry and colors before getting Johnny from his room. Again, Simon finds himself between the two of you as you head down to your horses. Even more so when you’re all squished into a chariot.

The wagon of dead bodies follows behind you, the smell of death present as the townspeople watch. People gasp at the sight of Simon, and whispers of the long-since departed king's return echo throughout Ithaca.

Simon steps onto the platform, bringing you up with him and you stand next to him while Johnny stands in front of the two of you.

He starts a speech, making a point about the dead men. He talks of the disrespect to his house– to his family. He dares someone else to try to ruin his family, to hurt his son, his husband. He declares himself back, the two kings of Ithaca ruling again. Merciful, he calls the act of bloodshed the two of you had committed the night before. He calls the men’s mothers, their fathers, their wives, their children. He tells them they can weave their funeral shroud for them. Or else he’ll burn them to keep your room warm.

He watches as they collect their sons, their husbands, and their fathers. He holds you close, fingers a bruising grip against your waist.

The two of you head back; Johnny stays behind to venture around the kingdom. You think it’s so the two of you can be alone for a little while.

—

“I’ve missed you, husband,” Simon says, his head between your legs. He’s thrown them over his shoulders, his hands kneading the flesh of your stomach. He’s dreamt of this sight for two decades and yearned to dive his head between your legs again. Savoring the taste, feeling the way you’d clench around him.

“I’ve missed you, husband,” You parrot, reaching down to hold his chin. He leans into the warm touch, eyes closing as he savors it. You trail your hand up, holding his hair as he dives down. You gasp when he presses his tongue flat against you, slowly dragging up and down while watching you.

“I’m yours,” He murmurs, pressing sloppy kisses against your warmth while you twitch under his hold. “Only yours.” You pant, holding the cotton sheets for a reprise as his tongue makes figure eights around you, how he sucks and nips at your sensitive bud. He moves, sliding a finger into you; his eyes stuck on your face as your back arches. It’s an adjustment, just as it had been the first time you’d done this.

Your body had almost forgotten the feeling of his fingers inside of you, how skillful they’d been during your marriage. How he knew your body inside and out, what points to press on, and how fast to go. He maintains a rhythm that makes you cry, your arm across your eyes as you try to compose yourself. Not let yourself come undone so fast.

“Simon,” You breathe, trying to get to your elbows but he starts moving his finger. He's pushing and pulling, curling inside of you and it makes you fall back on the bed. He shudders, that tone in your voice, that feeling on his finger, the taste on his tongue. It’s all he’s ever wanted; it’s what kept him going all these years. “I need you,” You cry, eyes closed as your stomach tightens. He adds another finger, the added pressure makes your jaw drop.

“You have me,” He swears. “Look at me, please,” You try, honestly you do, but the tightness reaches a high and your eyes screw shut. Your fingers tighten around his hair, your voice echoes in the room and Simon feels you clench around him. He almost laughs, not because it hadn’t taken much to push you to the edge but because he’d already come. It hadn’t taken anything, all it took was you saying his name and he spilled into the bedsheets.

“You okay, moon?” He asks while crawling on top of you, his lips leaving scattered kisses across your body. You nod, face blissed out and eyes watery. “Can you take another?”

“I can take a million more,” You breathe and he laughs, head dropping between your neck. You laugh along, legs raising as he bites your skin. He moves so he’s holding himself up with one hand, his other grabs his dick as it hardens again.

“You sure?” He asks and you nod, kissing his shoulder.

“I can take it,” You moan, feeling the tip move across your folds. It slips and prods before he eventually pushes inside in one fluid motion. Your back arches, pushing your chest against his as he fills you.

“Full, ‘m so full,” You pant against him and he nods, moving your hair from your face.

“Full ‘n’ tight f’ me, yeah?” He teases, slowly rolling his hips against yours. He relishes in watching your expressions, how your mouth drops open and you’re unable to control the sounds you make. “Waited so long f’ me, didn’t you?” As he’s speaking, he raises up from you, his right hand holding your stomach down while the left starts rubbing soft circles on your clit. “So patient, my love. Thank you.”

His eyes dip down, looking at the bulge in your stomach as he slowly enters and exits you. He moans at the sight, eyes closing for a brief moment as he begins to pick up pace. You struggle to look at him, one hand holding the wooden headboard behind you while the other loosely holds the wrist that’s circling you.

“Missed you s’much,” He moans. “Missed all of you.” He slurs, leaning down to kiss you. He bites your bottom lip before his lips capture yours, his hips pressing against your own with each thrust. “Gods, you’re so tight.” He grunts as he pulls away, moving your left leg to be over his shoulder while the right leg sits at his hip. He speeds up, twitching as your moans only grow louder. Your nails drag against his chest and circle to his back.

He feels his scars under your nails, the sensitive skin prickling hot as you open his flesh. He hisses, the pain far easier to manage than anything he’s faced while away but so different. So loving.

“Inside me,” You moan, finally able to look at him as you bite your bottom lip. It’s throbbing from the pain of him biting it but you don’t care. “Inside me, Si, please.”

“Who am I to deny you, my king?” He grins and then drops his head down to your neck, feeling your walls tighten around him. You hear him whimper and moan against you and it only eggs you on. He’d chased that feeling for years, spilling inside of you as your high starts approaching. He continues for you, continuing his bruising pace until your body stops moving, your mouth falls open and your breathing goes ragged. Tenderly, as he always used to do, Simon holds you close to him. Your head rests against his chest so you can listen and feel his heart beating against your ear.

His hand stops circling your clit as he slowly pulls out from inside you. The sounds that come from him and you spur him on more but he contains himself. Instead, he watches as his cum leaks from you. On instinct, he pushes it back inside, loving the way your legs twitch when he does.

“Do you need a break?” He asks, eyeing the sweat on your brow. You inhale, thinking about it before shaking your head.

“I can take more,” You swear and he raises his eyebrow. “Please, Simon.”

“Your wish is my command.”

#x male reader #x reader #simon riley x male reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley x ftm reader #ftm reader #simon riley x trans reader #trans reader #simon riley smut #ftm reader smut #simon riley x you #ghost x male reader #ghost x reader #ghost x you #simon riley x y/n

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starryey · 4 months ago

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God, think of trans dombot! Simon with a very submissive subtop! reader and you are literally a monster but you can’t function without Simon’s voice giving you orders and you would follow him without question even if it costs you your life.

Think of how dombot! Simon puts a collar with leash on you while he’s lying back in his seat with his legs spread wide for you. Your thick cock stretches his already wrecked hole mercilessly as your heavy balls slap against the plump mass of his ass over and over again.

Dombot! Simon holds the leash to keep you in check, giving you a few tugs every now and then and keeping constant eye contact. You can see his lustful, commanding eyes through his mask as your already labored breathing hitches, he’s so handsome you just want to make him a baby just as cute

You continue pounding his pussy like a vice, listening to his moans and incomprehensible ramblings until your orgasm becomes imminent and you begin to beg him to let you cum, it's what you deserve after having done such a good job on your last mission

You cum as soon as Simon gives you his confirmation, leaving your fat cock stuck to the hilt as your balls empty into his swollen and reddened pussy, he'll probably get angry as soon as he comes down from his own ecstasy, but that's not important right now.

Dombot! Simon has the leash tightly gripped with his eyes rolled up and mind totally blank, the only thing he can feel is the pleasant stretch of your cock and your baby batter filling him to the brim. Just as you had anticipated Simon scolds you a while later, but you cared little when you were busy admiring your baby batter dripping from his pretty, abused pussy

Oh how you adore this man

#simon riley x male reader #simon ghost riley x male reader #cod mw2 #modern warfare #141 x male reader #male reader #trans!simon ghost riley #top male reader #sub character

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gofishygo · 10 months ago

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everyone always talks about ‘medic reader’ this and ‘teammate reader’ that but what abt weapons engineer/mechanic reader ?

just a silly little fella who helps out the 141 with their weapons when they go out of whack, who works very closely with the team to coordinate certain weapons for specific missions .

they’d probably have a really close bond with soap , both having fun with testing demolitions together . who’s able to add in ideas and carry conversations with you when you ramble on about weapons . johnny pulls you close to him when they get startled from the loud noise of an explosion , laughing a little at how they excuse their sudden vulnerability with ‘not expecting it to be that loud’.

price who seeks them out when he’s having issues with his cm901, having to endure your age-long lectures about not accidentally slamming the barrel to hard. he subconsciously makes sure the brush his hand over yours when he finally retrieves his now-fixed weapon.

yeah nyways weapon mech! reader has my heart

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simonsrileyhusband · 3 months ago

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Ftm (your choice of)hybrid reader x Simon Riley

Reader thinks they look stupid because they are a hybrid and Simon decides to show them how pretty they actually are.

(i just had to make reader a bunny hybrid, sorry)

nsfw:

"what did ya' just say lovie?" simon is leaning on the door frame as you stare at yourself on the floor lenght mirror of your shared room.

"i just said i look goofy... like, look at my ears, don't you think they are... stupid" you shake your head softly making your long ears wiggle against your head. "and my tail, so annoying to cut holes in every single jean and short i buy..."

simon walks to you, standing tall behind you, his hands slidding to your waist pulling you closer to him. "that's not the way to talk about my bunny." he kisses your cheek softly. "i think i have to remind my baby how pretty he is..."

his bulky arms pick you up, draging you to the bed making you sit on his lap facing the mirror. "do ya' feel that, mhm? tell me baby, do ya' feel how ya' make me feel." you wiggle on top of his hardening cock, his hands gripping your hips and making them move around, your clothed pussy rubs against his hard jeans making your sensitive area crave for more.

"simon please..." you whine out, looking back at him with big pleading eyes. "nu-uh, look at the mirror bunny, look at yourself. i'll make sure to fuck those stupud ideas out of ya"

#ghost x male reader #ghost x reader #simon riley x male reader #simon riley x reader #ghost smut #simon riley smut #hybrid reader #ftm reader #ghost x trans male #ghost x ftm reader

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rodolfoparras · 5 months ago

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Thinking about comfort sex but instead of reassuring words and gentle caresses it’s this big burly man hovering over your face, hand scruffing your neck before shoving you into his warm wet heat, riding your face like you didn’t just tell him you had the works week of your life and there aren’t tears prickling your eyes and a big fat knot in your stomach, treating you like you’re only a warm wet mouth solely meant for his pleasure, telling you to shut up when groans or grunts escape your mouth because toys don’t talk remember that, won’t let you touch yourself even though pre’s pooling on your stomach and you’re withring under him, being anything but gentle as he clenches his thighs onto your face and erratically ruts his hips, refusing to budge even when you claw at his legs in a desperate attempt to come up for air, practically on the verge of passing out when he finally finishes.

It’s only afterwards he tells you that you did well, hand gently cupping your cheek calloused thumb stroking the skin before he slots your lips together, tongue swiftly slipping past your lips, lapping at ever nook and cranny til all he can do is taste himself on his own lips “so good for me puppy,”

#mlm Nsft #trans Nsft #t4t Nsft #queer Nsft #Gay Nsft #sub male reader #dom male character #Nsft puppy #price x reader #price x male reader #ghost x reader #ghost x male reader #toji x reader #toji x male reader #GOJO x reader #GOJO x male reader #geto x reader #geto x male reader

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thegnomelord · 10 months ago

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if you write a thing about the creaming the zussy i will kiss ur boots

The boots better be shining when you're done.

How To Cure Zombies 101

CW:NSFW MDNI, crackfic obv PiV sex, TLOU Clicker trans Ghost, Top Male Reader, established relationship, happy ending, dub-con because Simon consented before he got bit but reader is apprehensive, zombie sex (does it count as necro?) how does this work? idk porn logic. Don't ask me how this happened, i hope this doesn't become what my blog becomes known for.

When the Cordyceps spread across the planet and turned millions of people into shambling mushroom infested undead, the world ended.

When Simon got bitten. . . your world ended.

You still remember it like it had been yesterday; He came back bloody, an empty look in his eyes as he showed you the bite on his arm. Your hands shook as he wrapped them around the grip of the gun and aimed it at his head. You both ended up on the floor with you crying into his chest, unable to pull the trigger.

You remember the resigned look in his eyes when he had agreed to let you do whatever you needed to him to cure him, but both of you knew there was no way, what made you immune to the fungus was as mysterious to the rest of the world as it was for you. His lips had been burning hot when he laid a soft kiss on your forehead, the last sense of warmth you've felt since the docs took him to where they kept the infected for study, your heart leaving with him.

And now?

Now the scientists that have been prodding you like a lab rat since Simon got bitten nearly a year ago say they have a way to bring his mind back, to get Simon back.

And the way to do it?

"So let me get this straight?" You begin, your voice tense, your body even tenser. "You want me to fuck the corpse of my lover? And that will cure him?"

That. You're not sure how the eggheads arrived to this conclusion, frankly all of their scientific jargons had flown over your head. All you understood was that the man you had fallen since the first time you met him could be brought back.

You sincerely hope you won't make some type of super fungus through this.

Words can't describe what you feel as you look at Simon's (is it even Simon?) bound body writhing on the gyno chair, naked and bare to you. You doubt you even know what you feel, hope and fear simultaneously curling in your stomach— You hadn't had the courage to look at him ever since the scientists took him away; The harsh laboratory lights make it easy to see the mycelium filling his veins beneath the ashy pale skin, mushroom caps growing beneath his pecs and across all other scars he has. Red and yellow mushrooms have eaten away his nose and spread out to follow the contours of his face, growing in a way that makes the mushroom caps blend together into a skull shape.

Your heart aches when you see his eyes haven't been eaten away yet, the once deep brown turned milky white and staring lifelessly past you, thrashing about in the bindings, rotten teeth gnawing on the ball gag in his mouth, small hisses and malformed muffled clicks echoing through the room.

You try to look down and you stop at his stomach, forcing yourself to breathe in and out slowly because your heart is beating so fast it feels like you'll have a panic attack. You have no idea if this will work and doing this to Simon only to find out it's as useless as all your previous attempts to cure him. . . you're sure it would break you. Closing your eyes and counting to ten you will yourself to focus, your eyes opening slowly and following the trail of little mushroom caps down to his groin.

It's not what you expected., but it's. . . a lot; Mushroom caps have replaced the lips of his cunt, similar to the hard growths on his head but these look thinner and longer, almost like flower petals framing his cunt, bright red at the corners and getting progressively lighter as it nears his hole. A sort of morbid curiosity compels you to reach out brushing your fingertips against the caps. They're surprisingly softer than you had expected, smooth and slick with some kind of slime. You can't help but notice how a longer stalked mushroom grows from what had been his clit.

You jerk your hand back when a second brush of your fingers makes his body to jerk back and attempt to fight against the restraints, more angry clicks vibrating his throat.

But you also notice a kind of… sweet scent in the air and it's coming from him. Cautiously you brush against the caps again, slowly dipping your fingers under to touch the gills underneath. You keep your hand where it is when he thrashes again, but you're certain that smell is stronger now, and you catch the glimpse of clear viscous slick slowly leak from his hole.

Carefully you push a finger into his hole in an attempt to stretch him out. Logically you know that he probably doesn't feel it, but it feels wrong to just stick your cock in him; He's cold. You know he's dead but you had held out some hope that he would be warmer, that there would be some signs of life despite how stupid that sounds.

He's dry right now, but more of that clear fluid seeps around your fingers and lubes the way as you experimentally push your finger all the way up to the last knuckle, and you felt his muscles flutter around you, clenching down as if trying to draw you in deeper. His head continued to thrash around, no change in the feral behavior, but you still try to be gentle, pushing one then two fingers in and slowly scissoring him open.

You pull your fingers out when his hole has relaxed enough to let you easily slide your fingers in and out, and he's produced enough slick to completely drench your hand. You try to look at him as you press your cock against his fluttering hole, but the sight of his milky eyes almost makes you soft on the spot so you screw your eyes closed and slowly slide in.

Despite how cold and wet his cunt is, you haven't felt anyone's touch, even your own, since he got infected, and a part of you feels disgusted at how a bit of pleasure traces up your spine. He continues to hiss and click as you bottom out, his hips bucking wildly you have to press them down. You set a slower pace than you're used to, keeping your thrusts even and consistent, afraid to tear anything but your fear is seemingly misplaced. He's so much wetter than he'd ever get before he got infected, slick wetly squelching as you bottom out over and over again, clicks and snarls accompanying every move you make.

You're ashamed to say you don't last long. Fuck, is he tight you've been ignoring your body for so long that when you accidentally brush against the stalk growing from his clit and his cunt suddenly tightens up like a vice you cum on the spot, your hips doing little minute twitches as you empty so much of your cum in his cunt that your balls hurt. You pull out just as slowly, both of your mixed fluids leaking out and almost getting caught by the soft mushrooms framing his hole.

You muster up the courage to look him in the eyes, and your heart breaks when his lifeless eyes blindly stare back at you.

You feel like a fool when the first time doesn't work, he's still just a body pupated by a fungus. And you feel like an even bigger fool when you agree to do this a second time.

But the third time. . .

You don't know if it's just wishful thinking but he seems more. . . alert. His head always follows you when you approach him but now his milky eyes almost seem to be looking at your face instead of staring straight through you. He's strangely still on the chair, teeth gnawing on the ball gag but he doesn't try to get out of the restraints.

He doesn't screech when you gently caress the soft outer mushroom caps framing his cunt, instead his chest vibrates with more deep clicks. Nor does he start to wildly writhe on the chair when you slowly sink a finger into his cunt, finding it's already wet with slick. If anything he almost seems to chase(more like stumble) after the sensation, his hips doing small little movements to push your finger deeper into him.

Emboldened by childish hope you do something you hadn't before and reach with your other hand to slowly trace the long stalk of the clitshroom (not a term you coined), before rubbing the base of the cap like you would your own cock.

You nearly jump out of your skin when the gentle pressure of your fingers makes him buck into your hands and let out an ear-piercing screech that the gag has trouble muffling. You pull your hands away and that worsens the problem, the shrieking turning into literal chest rumbling snarls as Simon starts to struggle against the bindings.

Panic rushing down your system you put your hands were they were, gently stroking the 2 inch long mushroom growing from his clit. His hips buck up to chase after your hand, the snarls reverting back into shrieks, but as you stroke him longer they gradually die down to low pitched clicks and whistles. You're stumped; the clicks sound a lot like a cat's puff, his hole fluttering and clenching around your fingers as you slowly push them inside.

He's warmer now, not quite how he was before, but not cold as a corpse either. You know that you've gone completely mad by the fact he starts to gyrate his hips— grinding down just as you get knuckles deep so your fingers can brush against the sensitive spots inside him — makes your mind think that it's a bit of your Simon coming back.

You shake your head and pull your hands away, taking hold of his trembling thighs. You're greeted with another deep snarl but he quiets down immediately when you start to slowly push into him. He feels even tighter now, and you watch how his head falls back on the headrest, a long series of low clicks and whistles squirming past the gag.

His hips move to meet your slow thrusts, tight warm walls squeezing down every time you attempt to pull out just like he used to do. And that thought has your body increasing the pace automatically, your balls slapping against his ass, every sharp thrust hitting something spongy inside him and drawing out a sharp click, the rough pace leaving you panting.

Mindlessly you look up, too caught up in the moment remembering how Simon loved eye contact to remember the situation you're in.

He's looking straight at you.

You halt mid thrust, the low hiss he lets out falling on deaf ears as you tilt your head to the side. You're not insane, his eyes follow you. They're still milky, but they don't look through you. He's looking at you.

Another rough clicking sound leaves him and he thrusts his hips down against yours with enough strength to bruise, almost impatient. Despite how stupid it is you reach out and quickly unbuckle the gag with trembling fingers. "Si?" You say, unable to hide the hope in your voice. "Are you there?" You lean over him, looking hopefully into his eyes. "Do you remember me?"

His jaw moves like he's munching on a survivor, but all that leaves his mouth are more clicks and rough grunts.

Fuck. You are a fool.

A sob tears through your chest before you can stop it, ducking your head down to lay it on his chest. You're unable to keep the fresh tears from falling on him, watering the damned mushrooms that had taken him from you. You can't stop the sobs from coming, your back bowed and shoulders shaking as you cry just as much as the day you first lost him.

His chest vibrates with another long series of clicks and whistles, just pouring salt on the gaping would in your chest.

Your name rights through the room.

It's scratchy, rough, almost incomprehensible to your ears, but it's your name.

You look up so quickly you almost snap his neck. "Simon?" You whisper, staying in him even as you feel yourself soften. "Are you in there?" You slowly reach out to hold his face, careful not to cut your hands on the sharp mushroom caps along his cheeks.

He looks at you back, jaw moving still, but he doesn't try to bite the flesh of your palms despite your hands being right there. "Ckckck-" He clicks, pupils going from pinpricks to blown out, "Ckckrkck- Mo- ckck-ve." He manages, a thrust of his hips accompanying the order.

Your heart leaps to your throat and you can do nothing but follow it, sliding one hand down to dig your nails into his thigh, looming over him as you pull out until only the head is inside and them slam into him that there's an audible clap of skin on skin as you bottom out. A half shriek half click half "Yes!" escapes him as he throws his head back, slack jawed.

A whole range of noises escapes him as you hammer into him with all you've got, one hand remaining always on his face. You can feel him getting hotter the longer you pound into him, body shaking as each thrust nails his sensitive spot. He gets progressively tighter and tighter as you fuck into him, and you let go of his thigh to carefully strike along the long shaft of the clitshroom.

He shrieks at the top of his lungs and his cunt clenches down on you like a vice, fluttering around you and gripping your cock like it doesn't want you to pull out. It pulls you into an orgasm,

"Simon?" You whisper, staying in him even as you feel yourself soften. He's too silent compared to how vocal he had been a few moments ago. "Are you in there?"

His head rolls a bit, peering at you through through his lashes, tongue moving heavily in his mouth and lips twitching up into a soft of barely-there grin. "Cckck- l- ckckc- love- ckrk-you -ckkckrkckck-"

Taglist: @dead-end-stuff

#gnome correspondence #cod mw2 #x reader #male reader #top male reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #cod simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x male reader #the last of us cod au #the last of us #trans character #idk how this happened #Clicker Simon Ghost Riley

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heartfullofleeches · 5 months ago

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Darling dared by their group of friends to walk past a bus stop known to be haunted by the ghost of a young woman looking for her groom - following those she deems to be a suitable partner home. They'll be totally fine and safe since they aren't a guy!

"G-guys?! There's somebody sitting on the bench. She's standing up and staring right at me!"

"Haha- Nice try, Y/n-"

"I'm serious! She's coming this way! I'm not even a-"

Trans Male Darling, years along the line - staring at himself in the mirror: ....

Trans Male Darling: ... Can't even say I'm surprised by how things turned out anymore-

Ghost Wife Yan, resting her head on his shoulder:<3

#yandere ghost #yandere imagines #yandere x reader #yandere #yandere x you #yandere scenarios #yandere blurb #yandere oc #yandere insert #yandere headcanons #female yandere #trans male reader

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stellewriites · 8 months ago

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trans!soap who buys one of those dick molding kits and drops it in ghost’s lap, asks him to do it so he can have a braw cock to fuck his new girlfriend with.

“need something that’ll leave her weak-kneed, ya ken? an’ i know from personal experience that yers’ll do the job, lt.”

#is this??? anything??#it’s been floating in my head non stop for a week but i know ill never do anything more with it #simon scoffs and rolls his eyes ‘maybe she’d prefer the original’ he’d goad but he’d get up and do it immediately for johnny #drop it off the same day with a suggestion to try it out and make sure it’s just as good so his birds not missing out #obvs this would eventually lead to ghoap x reader but idk how exactly it’d get there #also braw is scottish slang for good lmao #uhhhh how to tag this i dont usually do shorter stuff :p #johnny soap mactavish #soap x reader #soap x ghost #ghoap #johnny soap mctavish x reader #johnny mactavish x reader #trans johnny soap mactavish #trans soap #trans johnny mactavish #stelles fics

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dimlylittorch · 1 month ago

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soooo this is my first like REAL writing for Ghost :3 idk how but this is my longest writing so far.. 6K+ so yall be warned

My Masterlist🌱

18+ drabble MDNI

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x virgin!chubby!pre-op!transmasc!reader

he’s big and mean but i feel like he would be really soft with sex :((

warnings: slight daddy kink at the end, maybe some insensitive language (fat) it’s good tho i promise, female parts are referred to with said names (i’m pre-op so saying like t-dick is weird for me lol)

tbh this is my first ever like in depth smut so forgive me if it’s bad🙏

You had only recently moved away from your home town, deciding to shack up in a big city with more opportunities. Back home it was hard to make friends- let alone date. Being trans wasn’t easy, let alone being chubby on top of that. You’d never even come close to having a boyfriend.. or a hook up for that matter. But why not go to a big city? You didn’t need to reinvent yourself. You knew you were likeable.. maybe you were just fishing in the wrong pond.

Settling into a small studio apartment wasn’t ideal, but it was home. After moving in and getting into the groove of a new city and a new job.. you decided it was time to try and make friends. Or maybe even a boyfriend. But- we couldn’t set our hopes too high, right? Don’t settle, but don’t expect too much. Something you found yourself repeating constantly.

You’d never gone ‘clubbing’ before. Your home town was small, and the only bars had a lot of old drunkards in them. So you didn’t exactly know what to wear. It was chilly outside- you could work with that. You knew you wanted to look cute. Picking out a fitted turtle neck, you adding a pair of nice pants to wear with a belt. And boots! That made the whole look.

Well. You thought that would make the look. It turns out people don’t really.. wear clothes like that to clubs. Girls in short dresses, guys in plain shirts.. you definitely stood out. Thank god it was a little dark in there as you walked through the crowded club, drink in hand. You could try to dance.. but you knew you wouldn’t be a huge fan of getting shoved around or groped. What did people even do at clubs? I guess it’s not very interesting if you’re not with people.

With a sigh you walk along the back, eventually settling against the brick wall that led into the back hallways of the club. You stood near one of the back doors, sipping on your drink as you people watched. It was something you’d gotten used to- seeing other people live. Be human. Be real. There wasn’t anything as humbling as that.

When you hear the slam of a door, you look off to your left down the hallway. A large man lumbered out of the door, pushing a smaller man against the wall before practically tossing him aside. The larger man had a man or two behind him.. bodyguards? It’s dark and hard to make out much, but you see a flicker of light for a split second.

As the large man walks to exit the hallway, that’s when you see really how tall he is. Definitely over six feet, large muscles with a lit cigar in hand. As he glances around the club, his eyes eventually fall on your small form, shrunk back against the wall. His eyes trailed over your unusual outfit. What was a little thing like you doing in a place like this? When your eyes met his you quickly looked downcast, taking a sip of your drink. God, he was tall.

Stalking over to you, he stops only a foot or so in front of you. “Ya look lost” he says lowly as he stares down at you.

Looking up at him with slightly wide eyes, you chuckle awkwardly. “Well.. looks like someone found me”

He huffs at your words, crouching down every so slightly to be more on your level. “We ‘ave a dress code here, yknow” he says gruffly.

Your eyes narrow and you quickly look down at your outfit. “What?” You question. “I’m dressed nice-“ you start to say.

“Tha’s the problem, love” he mutters. “Ya gotta look slutty in a joint like this. Or like a bum.”

You stare up at him with disbelief. “This- this is the tightest shirt I have!” You scoff as you put your hands on your hips. “You want people to look trashy?”

He chuckles as he looks down at your turtle neck with an amused look. “Tha’ trashier they look tha’ more money they spend.” He muses. “You ain’t spending a pretty penny at a place like this, eh?”

“You talk like you own the place” you huff, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Tha’ I do” he smirks. “Now- get outta my club. Pretty bird like you ‘ill get roughed up.” He murmurs as he opens the back door, waiting for you to leave.

You look up at him with a glare. “Are you kidding me? What if I want to enjoy myself?”

He sighs, letting the door close and leaning down. “Lovie.. yer standin’ against tha’ wall. You havin’ fun?”

You open your mouth to speak, but slowly close it again. He was right. You weren’t having fun. Looking downcast, you cross your arms over your chest again. “What do people here even do for fun?” You mutter. “Other than getting drunk.”

He hums, standing up and glancing around the club. “My.. patrons” he mutters. “Come ‘ere for booze, drugs or sex.” Leaning down again, his eyes meet your own. “Which one will it be?”

And that.. was how you found yourself following the large man who you later learned’s name was Simon upstairs to the second floor of the club. Of those three, you figured you’d go with the last. Something you’d like to experience, at least. What you didn’t expect, was for him to invite you on up. As the two of you reach the top of the stairs, he unlocks a door and when you step inside you realize- he lived on the second floor.

“Now” he says plainly as he locks the door behind the two of you. “Which team ya’ play for?” He asks as he gestures for you to relax.

“Um.. guys. Men.” You murmur softly as you set your bag on the couch, looking around gently at the neatly furnished apartment.

“Well” he huffs as he walks into the kitchen, grabbing a glass and pouring a drink for himself. “I could use a good fuck. But if ya want someone else we got options” he murmurs with a shrug as he leans over the counter.

Tentatively walking over, you stop on the other side of the counter, eyes downcast. “Can I be honest?”

He chuckles faintly, nodding. “Never lie to a man as big as me, birdie” he smirks.

Leaning over the counter, mirroring his position you gently look up, eyes meeting his own. “I’m a virgin.” You say softly. “And.. um.. female. Technically. But I’m a guy. If that makes sense.”

He pauses at your words, looking down at you silently for a few moments. “Transvestite? Is tha’ what they call ‘em?” He questions.

Pulling a soft laugh from you, you shake your head with amusement. “Transgender. But- good try” you smile softly up at him. “You.. think you got someone for me?” You ask shyly.

He sighs softly, setting his glass down and looking at you. “Ya got me. I wouldn’t trust any other man ta’ take yer virginity” he says quietly. “Men get impatient. They’ll hurt a soft thing like you. But me? Been in the forces. Patience is all I know.”

Looking up at him for a few moments, your eyes soften as they take in his features. You can tell he’s seen combat.. the scars are there to prove it. “Thank you for your service” you say softly as you look downcast, cheeks flushing slightly at the thought of being with him. Sure, he looked rough.. but opposites attract, right?

He snorts at your words, setting his glass down. “Haven’ heard tha’ in a while” he muses. “Look.. yer nervous, I get it. But we ain’t gonna do this if ya aren’t ready.”

Sighing softly, you run your fingers through your hair. “I want to do this.” You say quietly. “I.. I’ve been waiting for a long time, you know? I’m tired of waiting.” You murmur as you push off of the counter, walking around to where he stood and looking up at him. “You don’t have to.. be with me. If I’m not your type.” You clarify as your eyes meet his own. “I’m not exactly the beauty standard or anything” you snort slightly. “But if you want to- I’d like to.”

His eyebrows quirk at your words, a smirk crossing his lips. “I’ve been with jus’ about everyone” he muses. “Yer nothin’ new f’me.. if that brings ya some peace of mind.”

A small sigh of relief leaves you, and you feel yourself relax slightly. “I appreciate that” you sigh. “So.. sex.” You murmur faintly. “Right. We- um.. how do you want to..” you trail off.

Before you can say anything else you feel a heavy hand land on your hip, gently pulling you forward into his chest. Looking up you find him gazing down at you, eyes flitting over your soft form as his fingers gently hook into the hem of your pants, tugging them down ever so slightly to feel the fat of your hip. As you suck in a sharp breath, he reaches with his other hand and grabs your own, pulling yours to rest on his hip. His neck cranes down to brush against your ear, deep words hitting your skin. “Yer allowed ta’ touch me little thing.”

Letting out a shaky breath, your eyes shift downcast to his hip where your hand was frozen. After a faint moment you gently start to feel the hard muscle of his hip, a contrast to your own body. Little did you know how the contrast drove him crazy. Staring down at your soft form made his heart beat faster than it had in weeks. Little birds like you hardly ever came into his club.. soft things that need protecting. He’d quickly grown tired of the usual quick fuck he’d find for himself on a random Tuesday night. You seemed real. And you made him feel real.

“I like your belt.” You whisper faintly, brain growing slightly fuzzy from the entire interaction. You’d grown so touch starved that it was almost overwhelming being able to touch someone freely- even if it was just a clothed hip. “Looks nice with your outfit..” you murmur. A black leather belt that matched the shade of everything else he wore.

He chuckles faintly, breath heavy against your ear. “Could say the same f’r you.” He breathes. “Cute little thing.. overdressed an’ all.”

A small smile crosses your lips when you recognize his teasing tone, your hand tentatively pulling his shirt out of where it was tucked on his left side. Slipping your fingers under his shirt, you gently graze against his toned skin, hard with a nice layer of fat over his stomach. You hear him suck in a breath at your touch, and you look up at him with soft eyes. “This okay?” You whisper.

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d done things slow. Usually he’d rip off a persons clothes within minutes, eager to get a quick fuck.. that sense of release that lasted for only a few sweet moments. But with you it was different. He didn’t want to push you over the counter. He didn’t want to shove you onto the couch cushions. He wanted to explore. Take his time. Watching you explore his body.. christ, it did something to him. When was the last time he truly enjoyed sex?

“Mhm” he hums lowly. “Ya ain’t even gotta ask.. ya could peg me for all I care” he smirks softly. His heart warms when he hears the laugh that slips past your lips, and he can’t help but place a faint kiss to the skin of your neck, drawing a gasp from you. “Tha’ feel good?” He questions.

Leaning into his touch, you nod slightly. “More than good.” You confess. “Would you do it again?” You whisper after a small moment. “Please?”

He audibly groans when he hears your plea, placing another kiss against your neck, this time with more passion. “Yer like a bunny.. all soft and sweet” he murmurs against your skin.

Feeling your face flush from his lips on your skin, you gently reach up to wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him as close as possible. He couldn’t remember the last time he held someone like this.. he’d usually put them on their knees and take them from behind. But he liked how soft you felt in his palms as he pulled you closer, your body melting in his hands.

You shyly bury your face in his neck, placing a small kiss to his skin, earning another groan from him. “Anything in particular you’ve been wantin’ ta’ try?” He hums against your skin as his kisses grow deeper to your skin. “Any positions yer pretty little self thinks abou’ all tha’ time?” He smirks.

Feeling your face flush more you bury yourself against him as much as you can. Letting out a shaky breath, he grins when he hears your words. “Doggy.. looks nice.”

“Tha’ it is” he muses. “You’ll feel me real deep, love.. that what ya’ want? Wanna feel full?” He smirks against your skin.

Whining softly, you can’t help but nod. “Mhm.”

“Alrigh’ then. I’ll get tha’ job done.” He grumbles, making you squeak as he picks you up, wrapping your legs around his waist as he brings you into his bedroom. “Bet ya ain’t never been carried like ya deserve” he huffs as he kicks the bedroom door closed, setting you down gently on the soft blankets and sheets, a nice dark gray color.

Shaking your head no, you can’t help but gaze up at him. “You’re really strong” you whisper softly.

He gently reaches forward, his hand cupping your chin as he stands over you. “Tha’ I am. But yer not heavy either.. nothin’ wrong with bein’ soft. Ya still deserve someone ta carry ya every now and then.” He murmurs as he leans down, his lips meeting your own.

Before you can stop yourself you moan against his lips, your face flushing heavily. He smiles, pulling away and looking at you. “Didn’t know ya could make those pretty sounds, hm?” He muses.

Shaking your head slightly, he reaches down to undo his belt, watching how you swallow slightly, your eyes moving to his crotch. “Ever had a cock in front of ya?” He asks as he pulls his belt off, tossing it aside and unzipping his fly.

When he sees you shake your head no, he sighs. “I’m a little bigger than tha’ average man.” He warns. “Ya ain’t gotta do nothin’ ya don’t want, alrigh’?”

“Okay.” You whisper softly, eyes glued to his crotch. Before he can pull his cock out of his briefs, you gently lean forward to palm him through the fabric. He moans out of surprise at the feeling, hunching over slightly.

“Fuckin’ christ-“ he groans. Before he can say anything else, you lean forward more, pressing your lips to his clothed cock, kissing along the fabric sweetly. He looks down at you with wide eyes, chest already heaving slightly. No one had ever done that before. “Tha hell?” He questions before you look up at him with adoring eyes.

His heart skips a beat when he sees your gaze, completely wide eyed and full of emotion. “Does that feel nice?” You whisper softly. “You feel pretty hard..” you say faintly before you look back down, starting to place open mouthed kisses along his clothed bulge. He curses to himself, placing a hand on your shoulder to keep himself steady. He can feel the heat of your mouth soaking through the fabric onto his cock which was already as hard as it could get. You were practically worshipping him and he had no idea how to handle it.

“Yer driving me wild” he chokes out. “Where tha fuck did ya learn to do tha’?” He asks quickly.

Sighing contentedly against his bulge, you look up at him innocently. “I read a lot” you say softly. “Am I doing it right?”

He laughs breathlessly, slipping one of his heavy hands into your hair. “I think yer doing it better than anyone else has..”

When you feel his hand in your hair you whine weakly, leaning into his touch as your eyes flutter closed. He feels his chest burn when he sees how soft you are- a pretty little thing that just wants to be touched. “C’mere lovie” he says softly as he bends down, picking you up slightly to scoot you further up the bed. “Can tell yer just a cuddle bug.. want ya within an arms reach, hm?”

Nodding quickly at his words, you let him move you up to the headboard, resting your head on the pile of soft silk covered pillows he had. He moves on top of you, knees on either side of your legs as he looks down at you. “Gonna give ya doggy just like ya wanted, alright?” He questions as he pulls his shirt off, tossing it across the room.

Copying his movements, you sit up gently so you can pull your turtle neck off, setting it aside on the edge of the bed, leaving you in your binder. Your face flushes as his eyes trail over your torso, licking his lips slightly. When he sees your embarrassment, he moves his hands to your thighs. “Tell me somethin’ ya like about yourself” he says gruffly.

Your eyes look up to meet his own, a look of confusion on your face. But you don’t question him. “My.. my hair is soft.” You say quietly. He hums, reaching up to run his fingers through your hair once again.

“Tha’ it is. Something else?”

Humming softly, you look down at your body to think. “I.. I like my shoulders.” You whisper faintly. “They’re broad.. for a female. They make me feel more manly.” His head tilts slightly as he moves to look at your shoulders with a soft hum.

“They’ve got little lighting bolts an’ everything” he murmurs, glancing at the stretch marks that lined your body.

“Yeah” you smile softly, your gaze shifting to his torso. “I like your scars.” You add. “I.. I think they’re pretty.”

He can’t help but smile at that. He’d grown to be content with his scars- no longer hating them like he used to. “I think you’re pretty.” He replies with a small smile before leaning forward to kiss your shoulder. Grinning shyly, you can’t help but kiss his cheek.

He lets out a soft breath against your skin, looking up to meet your eyes. “Something ya don’t like?” He whispers. Your smile falters slightly, looking downcast. He can see something pop into your head, but you try to think of something else. “No, no- tell me. Tha’ first thing ya thought of.” He orders.

“It’s embarrassing” you murmur faintly.

“I’ve seen combat” he snorts. “Nothing is embarrassing to me anymore. Be honest.”

Looking away from his gaze, your cheeks felt hot as you tried to put it into words. “I.. well- obviously I don’t look like.. other people in porn.” You murmur as quietly as you can. “I know it’s unrealistic. But.. still.” You sigh. “I’ve never really.. seen anyone with a.. chubbier..” you confess, gesturing down to your crotch.

When he realizes what you mean, he hums, leaning back slightly as he looks down at you. “Ya got a fat cunt, ya mean?” He smirks.

You quickly feel your cheeks flare, reaching up and playfully slapping his chest. “Shut up!” You hiss.

He laughs lowly, smirking as he looks down at you. “Cmon lovie- those are tha’ best kind. Gives a big guy like me more room to work with, eh?”

Laughing shyly at his stupid smirk, you relax some. “I guess that makes sense.” You smile.

“Alrigh’ now- back to business” he chuckles as he grabs the base of your binder, pulling it over your head. His breath hitches when he sees your chest, tossing the binder across the room.

You scoff playfully when he throws your binder. “Hey! Those are expensive-“ you start to say but your words are cut off when his lips touch your chest. You instantly arch into his touch when he pulls you close, his arms wrapping around the middle of your back as he pulls you up into his face, leaning down and placing kisses all along your chest. Blushing heavily you let out shaky breaths, slipping your fingers into his hair. “Si-Simon” you say weakly.

He groans as he sucks one of your nipples into his mouth, teasing at the bud with his tongue while his eyes flutter closed. He pulls off with a faint pop, grabbing your now slick breast with his hand and kneading it. “Christ in heaven” he breathes out as he starts to suck on your other breast.

Whining faintly, you can’t help but tug on his hair slightly. When he feels the tug he lets out a low moan, the vibrations hitting your nipple just right to make your thighs clench around his waist.

Before he can catch himself his hips start to grind against the mattress, making his arms tighten around your body. He hears a moan slip past your lips and he looks up, his clouded eyes meeting your own. “Ya like that?” He murmurs. When you look at him slightly confused, brain clearly fuzzy, he squeezes his arms around you again. When he sees that same look of pleasure he smirks, moving his arms and crawling up on top of you. “is tha’ right.. little thing wants ta’ be held.” He teases as he presses his lips against your own.

Whining at his words you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him as close as possible. “Mhm” you whimper against his lips.

He kisses you deeply, his tongue slipping past your lips for a moment before he pulls away. “Fuck..” he breathes out. “Yer so touch starved even a hug turns you on, eh?” He muses. “Pathetic little thing.”

When he feels how you tense at his last words, he already knows he’s said something wrong. He quickly pulls back, looking down at you. As his eyes search your own, he leans forward to place a small kiss to your forehead. “Sorry love” he says softly. “Only praise for you, yeah? We can work with that” he murmurs.

When you let out a small sigh of relief, his hands shift down to get his pants off the rest of the way. As you move to undo your own belt, he growls softly and takes over, pulling your belt off and tossing it aside before pulling your pants down to your thighs. “Ya know wha’ you are don’t ya?” He murmurs softly as he pulls your pants off the rest of the way. Setting your pants aside, he starts to tug at your briefs as he leans up to whisper against your ear. “Yer a good boy” he smirks against your skin.

You swear your heart stopped for a second when you heard those words. You felt yourself squirm under his touch, and your face felt like it was burning hot. It was one thing reading words like that- but hearing them? Christ.

He chuckles when he sees your reaction, shucking your briefs off as quick as he can. Your legs snap shut, turning your head away with embarrassment. “Ah, ah pretty boy” he muses as he pulls your hips down closer to his own, pulling your thighs open. “Don’t ya wanna show off f’me?”

Whimpering slightly when the cold air hits your cunt, you bury your face into the silk covered pillows. Your body was already on fire, just from the way he touched you. Being exposed like this was awful- but amazing at the same time. You’d finally done it.. let someone see you like this.

“Fuck me” he groans when his eyes lock on your cunt. “Let me eat him, yeah? Treat him real nice, promise lovie” he says almost pleadingly as he gets onto his stomach, wrapping his arms around your thighs so he can hold you in place. “An’ would ya look at that” he smirks. “Not even a little wet..” he teases, his hot breath fanning over your skin, making your thighs tighten around his head. “An’ why is that? Sweet boy like you.. thought you would’a been leaking for me” he smirks.

Breathing heavily as you hide your face away, you can only whine in reply. You shiver when you feel two large calloused fingers rub against the lips of your cunt, spreading them open as wide as they can go. “f-fuck” you gasp out weakly when you feel your slick start to spill out slightly, shaking in his hold.

“There he is” he muses. “Ya weren’t lying about havin’ a soft cunt, were ya? Little pussy is so tight it keeps all those juices inside, yeah?” He chuckles, slipping a finger into your tight hole. “God almighty yer tight.. squeezing my finger like a vice sweet boy” he sighs. When he hears you whimper at the intrusion, he coos softly. “Be a big boy f’me.. I promise ya can take it baby. Just a little finger.. it’s my cock ya gotta worry about.”

“too b-big” you whine softly.

With a sigh, he withdraws his finger, slipping it into his mouth and sucking it clean. “Ya really are a sweet boy.. cunt’s made of honey” he hums. “I know what I want.. flip over love” he orders.

With a shaky breath you follow his command, moving onto your knees. You look back for instruction, eyes hazy. Before you can say anything Simon has moved onto his back, scooting himself under your legs. He’s also gotten rid of his briefs, his hard cock now hanging heavy in his hand. “Gonna ride my face, alrigh’ baby boy? Want ya to soak me” he says gruffly as he’s face to face with your pussy.

You stare down at him for a moment, clearly hesitant. He rolls his eyes, grabbing your thighs and pulling you down before you can protest. A sharp gasp leaves your lips as his tongue laps at your tight hole for a few moments, the feeling making you grab the headboard. As much as you don’t want to crush him, he makes your legs give out almost instantly, pussy pressed right against his face. You sit there for a moment trying to gather yourself, but you feel a slap to your ass, making you flinch. When you do so your hips buck, and his nose hits your clit.

“Holy fuck” you choke out, quickly repeating the action, chasing that same pleasure. As his crooked nose bumps against your clit over and over you repeatedly cry out, quickly covering your mouth. With another spank to your ass, your hand falls away and he pulls away for a moment.

“The second ya stay quiet the second I stop.. means m’doing somethin’ wrong” he says plainly before returning to your now soaked cunt. Looking over your shoulder you get a glimpse of how his hips are bucking up into his hand, pumping his cock eagerly. The sight makes a wave of slick pour out of you, greeted by and groan and a quick tongue. “Simon” you whine when his tongue slips over your clit, circling the bud before sucking it into his mouth making you moan out sharply.

You can barely make out what he says into your cunt, but you can tell he’s enjoying himself. “fucking christ- suffocate me love” he groans as he laps at your clit. “Yeah- yeah fuck- can’t wait to get my cock in this hole.. gonna suck me in so good, can already tell” he rambles through huffs of trying to catch his breath.

After a few more moments you find yourself leaning over, barely able to hold yourself up anymore. “f-feels funny” you whimper, your hips slowly down but he grabs onto them, forcing them over his face as hard as he can. “Simon! it feels weird” you say quickly, voice slightly frantic.

He groans against you, slapping your ass again. “gonna feel so good baby” he promises as he sucks at your clit. “gonna make you lose yourself, I swear” he promises. Before you can say anything else you feel a large rush of slick pour out of you, crying out as your face feels a rush of heat. You try to speak, but no words can form, only weak moans of pleasure. “Fucking hell- yeah sweetheart, let me drink ya dry” he sighs as you cum on his face. He keeps your hips going, making sure to drag out your orgasm for as long as he can. “good boy- good fucking boy”

Breathing heavily, you can’t help but whine at his words, tears forming at the corners of your eyes. “simon” you plead, your pussy sensitive to his tongue.

He sighs softly, a faint air of disappointment in his tone as he pulls you off of him, sitting himself up and moving you into his lap. “I got ya” he says softly as he wraps his arms around you, pulling you into a tight hug. “Ya did so well.. never woulda’ thought ya were a first timer. Yer cunt loves attention, hm?” He muses against your ear. You whine faintly in reply, curling up in his arms as you try to slow your breathing. His heavy hand rubs along your back, holding you as close as he can. “Perfect, you are” he murmurs against your ear. “God, that cunt feels good. Ya realize that yeah? Felt good getting my tongue sucked like that, hm? Fat lips returning the favor.. bet they were disappointed it wasn’t my cock” he breaths against your skin.

As you rest against him, he can’t help but reach down to rub your clit a little more. “Simon..” you warn tiredly, your eyes looking up to meet his own. “Need a minute”

He sighs softly as he looks down at you. “My cock disagrees” he chuckles faintly, moving his hand to his hard dick and slapping his upwards against your cunt making you gasp. “C’mere- gonna fuck ya in doggy like ya wanted” he murmurs as he turns you onto your knees once more. Not having the energy to keep yourself up on your hands, you let your face rest against the pillows. “Good boy.. head down ass up, right? Ya already know the drill” he smirks as he gently taps the tip of his cock at your entrance.

Your voice has become hoarse from moaning, so how your noises were weak and gravelly. A groan slipped past your lips as your hands grasped at the blankets, back arching your ass into the air. He smirks at the sight, letting his tip rub up against your clit. “Silly boy.. say yer not ready but then ya put yer ass up begging for it”

“fuck- fuck si” you choke out when he rubs his fat cock against your slit, the tip bumping against your clit repeatedly. “please-“ you whimper.

“Oh? Now ya want it in? Fickle little thing you are..” he muses, but before you can reply the head of his dick prods at your tight entrance making you gasp. “Oh fucking hell.. i was right baby- yer fat cunt makes it ten times better, i swear” he groans.

You practically squeal at the initial little stretch, slapping your hand onto the mattress as you try not to cry out. Simon quickly leans over you, resting his head next to yours as he whispers against your ear.

“Cmon lovie- yer alright.. promise baby boy- you’re doin’ so good for daddy. ya wanna call me that? ya can if it helps” he says sweetly against your skin.

You let out a weak sob at his words, tears spilling from your eyes as he puts the tip in completely. “daddy” you choke out faintly. You knew you had a bit of a daddy kink- but you didn’t think it would come out for your first fuck.. turns out it helped with it all. Made you feel safer.. more cared for. “daddy- b-burns” you plead.

Simon groans as he slips in a little further, his chest heaving from how tight you are. “I know baby- fuck, i know.. burns for daddy too” he chokes out. “fuck, your little hole is tight. gotta work ya open a little more, okay lovie? half way there”

Whining sharply as he presses further in, you’re gasping for breath from the sensation. You suddenly feel his fingers on your clit, swirling quickly to relieve some of the burning sensation. “That feel nice?” He whispers against your skin. “i bet it does.. makes ya all wet f’me. yer doin’ such a good job.. such a good boy for daddy” he murmurs against your skin as he places soft kisses along your shoulder.

With his large body encompassing yours, you’d never felt so safe. He was all you could feel, completely surrounding you and your senses. The entire world faded away except for him. “fuck- feels good” you whisper pleadingly.

“there we go.. that’s it” he says softly as he bottoms out, fingers still circling your clit. “you did it baby.. daddy’s gonna make you feel good, alright? promise ya- promise it’ll feel good.”

With a weak nod, you let your face fall back against the mattress. You hiss as he starts to pull back out, but when he pushes back in it’s not nearly as bad as the first time. And what definitely helps is hearing him right in your ear. Heaving grunts and groans as his hips buck up into you, getting faster as you open up more.

“God- your fat pussy is sucking me in so good” he chokes out against your skin. “Ya hear that?” He moans, referring to the loud smack of his hips against your wet cunt. “Ya hear how good this cunt is? Holy fuck baby- gonna keep this all for myself- how’s tha’ sound? Letting me suck on this cunt every day? Promise I’ll pound ya this good every time” he pleads against your ear.

Moaning sharply as his balls smack up to meet your clit, you tilt your ass up more so he can get even deeper. “fuck!” You cry out.

As he pumps faster into you, he holds you tighter against him as if he’s afraid you’ll disappear. “please cum baby” he chokes out pleadingly, his resolve slipping away. “oh fuck- please cum for daddy- wanna feel ya squeeze my cock so good- i know it’ll feel so so good, please” he rambles breathlessly as your cunt clenches tightly around him.

Whining at his words you reach down to grab his hand and press his fingers against your clit a little harder, making you gasp out loudly. He feels a flush of slick rush around his cock, your walls tightening around him so hard it almost hurts. “ah! Fuck- fuck, lovie- yer so fucking tight, gonna pull my cock off” he grunts against your ear as he tries to buck against you more, whimpering slightly when he feels the resistance. Before he can move again he moans against your ear, his thick seed streaming into your cunt.

With a weak sob of pleasure you collapse onto the mattress completely, Simon pulling you as close as he can while still on top of you. His hips buck up slightly as he cums, gasping every time he feels your walls flutter around him. “ohhh fuck yeah, take it” he grunts. “taking it so well” he murmurs against your skin as he empties himself inside of you.

After a few long moments he opens his eyes to look down at you, seeing the tear soaked pillow under your face. “You okay sweetheart?” He says softly, his voice hoarse. When you nod weakly he sighs, pulling you close as he moves to lay on his side. “Can’t believe no one fucked ya before that” he murmurs against your ear. “Fucking incredible you are.. honored you let me break ya in.” He chuckles faintly.

When you didn’t respond, he looked down at you and that’s when he saw you with your eyes closed, breathing softly. You were snuggled up against his chest.. and you’d already fallen asleep. He sighed, grabbing the blankets and pulling them over the both of you, still staying inside of you. “I’ll clean ya up after a nap” he whispers against your hair, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Perfect boy.” He whispered before he fell asleep with his body holding yours tightly.

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