#ghost x transmasc!reader

[buttdumplin]

For my dear sweet 🌙 anon, who asked for a piece in which transmasc reader clarifies his pronouns with the boys.

cw: poly!141 x transmasc!reader, established relationship, complex gender feelings, comfort

word count: 1070

It’s in the kitchen that you gather the courage, “Can we try something?”

Four heads turn to you, sandwich assembly line quickly forgotten. Maybe this wasn’t the best moment to speak up, your tummy is grumbling already. But you’ve started, so you should see it through. 

“Good god, keep your pants on. This is serious,” you say, voice growing quiet, “And about me.”

The boys swarm around you, eyes burning and ready. Sitting at the table was supposed to let you watch them as they work on lunch, but their looming turns it almost ominous. The sounds of you cracking your fingers, which you tend to do when you’re nervous, does not go unnoticed. 

Johnny chuckles, trying to keep the mood light, “Maybe shoulda phrased it a little differently, love.”

It took you forever to find the right dining table, one big enough to fit all of you and your plates. Days and weeks turned months as you scoured for the perfect one. But as they take their seats, it feels too small. The air is tight. 

“Do you guys remember that talk we had? About gender and me maybe not feeling wholly like a woman?”

They lean towards you, further dwarfing the table, waiting for you to continue. Your belly feels like it’s boiling, tumbling with nerves. That conversation went well, so surely this one will too, right?  If you take the time to look up at them, you’ll see their soft expressions. Simon hunches, blatantly trying to make himself smaller, as if wanting to create space for you to speak. Kind grins adorn Johnny and Kyle’s faces, remembering the conversation well and trying to be encouraging. John just looks proud. Silence breaks as you take a deep breath.

“I think I’m a guy,” you whisper. 

Smiles spread, bodies still, waiting for more. 

“I’m a guy,” you say louder, their grins coaxing yours out.

Kyle takes your hand in his, squeezing gently, “Watch out lads, I’ve got a boyfriend.”

What starts as a giggle soon overwhelms you, turning into a deep belly laugh and running tears down your cheeks. You cling hard to Kyle’s hand, wiping your face a little sloppy. It’s your first time saying it out loud, and there’s no way you could have predicted how fucking euphoric it would be. A spark’s been lit inside your chest, and you think that this must be what true happiness is. It feels so right, and Kyle’s immediate claim fuels you. Another deep sigh steadies you. The hard part is not quite over.

“I hope this doesn’t…” the words come out slowly, “Doesn’t change anything.” Your hand moves in a wide circle, gesturing at each of you.

Their bodies stiffen, caught off guard. Of everything you could have said, that was not what they expected. Worry melts their posture and brings their shoulders down to droop. John and Kyle exchange glances, failure written on their faces. If they’ve left room for this concern, they’ve clearly done something wrong. Johnny cocks his head, confused because why would that be a question? 

When Simon speaks, he almost sounds exasperated, “We’re all men.”

“Yeah, but-”

“All men,” he cuts you off, eyes locked on yours, challenging you to try again. “Boyfriends, like Kyle said.”

“Boyfriends,” you repeat, grin back in place. 

“Get to confuse the cashier at the grocery even more now,” he winks, relieved to see you smiling again. 

A calm silence settles the room again and easy breathing can be heard from all of you. The sinking pressure is lifted from you, letting you bask in the moment. Everything is okay. Your world didn’t crumble. Boyfriends, they said. Sweat threatens to slip your hand from Kyles, making his grip tighten. The pride on John’s face is loud, his dimples growing more pronounced. Johnny drops his chin into his hands, elbows on the table, an impishness about him.

“Logistics,” he says, “Pronouns, please?”

“He/him,” your voice shy.

He cups his ear, “What? Didn’t catch that.”

“He/him,” you say, fullbodied.

Under the table, he squeezes your knee with support. If you weren’t sitting, you’d be squeezing the life outta them, cracking their backs with the force of your hugs. They didn’t even fucking take a beat to respond, they were so immediately onboard. Darling boys continue to bring warmth into your life, erasing your doubts. Though truthfully, it was the possibility of losing them that you were most scared about.

“Terms?” John asks. 

You hesitate to respond, not having gotten quite this far just yet.

“Sweet boy?” he prompts.

Hearing it makes you gasp, your eyes widening and face burning. It hits sweet in your chest and the pleasure of it is visible. It’s the only confirmation John needs. Easing back into his chair, he crosses his arm with sweet satisfaction. The rest of the boys smirk, taking note, minds filling with more ideas.

Kyle has to clear his throat, and thoughts, before he speaks again, “Who do you want to include in this? How do you want to navigate it?”

“I’ve already told my doctors and it’s in my file,” you say proudly, and Johnny answers with excited whooping.

“He/him pronouns in public?” Kyle continues.

“Yes, please,” you eye your guard dogs. The four of them beam, chests swelling from knowing you have so much faith in their abilities to protect you, to keep you safe. 

“Please tell us if there’s ever a situation in which you don’t feel safe doing so. We play by your word,” he swears.

You nod in response, his words spreading a new and lovely warmth through your body. They must have done some homework after that initial conversation, always wanting to be prepared. And it couldn’t be more fucking soothing. Air returns to the room, bringing in levity once more.

“Lovely lads all around,” Johnny looks at each of you, wicked joy painting his face, “What a lucky bastard I am.”

His toothy smile is infectious, catching the rest of you until your faces hurt from mirth. Of course they were amazing with this, they’ve put so much work into maintaining this relationship. All those late nights working through clarifications, the probing answers and check-ins. And they’re doing the same thing now, meeting you head on. And eager to boot. Sweet boys stay sweet. 

“Well,” you say, giggles bubbling from your lips, “Your boyfriend is hungry, so yall best get lunch done.”

[captainjamster]

hihi!! I just seen your post about writing things for those who feel under represented in the community; and I was wondering... could you do one where Simon takes care of trans masc!reader on a really bad day of endometriosis pain?

Hey there anon, you're the very first request! Thank you so much for asking! This was originally going to be just 800 words, don't ask how we ended up at almost 3k lol. Sorry it took a few days, I hope you enjoy the fic! It's also on AO3 :)

Pairing(s): Ghost x transmasc!Reader w/ endometriosis (SFW) Warnings: Blood, menstruation, two off-handed mentions of sex Wordcount: 2.8k Summary: Simon takes care of your morning, despite your attempts to soldier on through a painful menstrual cycle. AO3 Link: Right here! <3

A/N: I hope this is enough "taking care" for you! Reader is indeed transmasc, but point of transition and upper anatomy is for you to decide. I might revise this one and upload an improved version, change the level of debilitation, add in HRT and increase how much Ghost does for you. But for now, here you go!! I think of Ghost as someone who conveys his love and affection through acts of service, and he'd die happy if you let him quietly manage every need you have. <3

Endometriosis currently affects around 10% - around 190 million – of women and girls of reproductive age. This statistic does not include the rate of endometriosis in non-women individuals with female reproductive genitals, which inflates the number even further. Despite the existing prevalence, endometriosis is underdiagnosed and overlooked within those who suffer from it, and this becomes even worse within trans individuals. I hope this fic can provide some love and representation for those struggling, especially my trans ppl <3

Full fic is under the cut <3

A dull throb in your stomach, pressed against the mattress is the first thing you register as consciousness slowly trickles through the thick fog of sleep. The sheets stick to your thighs as you try to roll over. Simon’s bulky, warm figure isn’t there to stop you from rotating flat on your back, encroaching onto his cold, empty spot.

You crack an eye open, looking at his vacancy in disappointment. The room is filled with an early, pale glow that peeks from around your curtains, brushing against the frame with each soft breeze from the open window. It’s not unusual for Simon to be up so early, but you miss the opportunity for morning cuddles.

A particularly sharp contraction in your stomach breaks the peaceful moment, your hand coming up to knead at the sore, bloated flesh. The last few days had left you in a pool of pain, the familiar ache creeping into your stomach and worming its way down your legs and up your back. Accompanied by the unsettling nausea and fatigue that wears you out even during a nap, you’ve resigned yourself to the fact that your least favourite friend would be making a visit this week.

Rolling back onto your stomach, you sit with the uncomfortable sensation throbbing through your midriff. It takes a moment for the damp, coldness beneath your pelvis to register, contrasted to the dry sheet your back was just resting on. Your eyes fly open, pushing yourself up and back onto your knees with a pained groan.

Even such a simple movement has a strong wave of pain flare through you, but your dismay at the mess staining your sheets is stronger. Your friend has arrived earlier and heavier than expected. The dark grey sheet is soaked in patches of black, tacky enough that you know it’s had more than plenty of time to steep into the fabric – thank god for the mattress protector Simon persuaded you into getting for other activities. Looking down, your skin is dappled with red, crusty and dried around the hairs scattering your stomach. The worst is pooled between your thighs, boxer-briefs drenched with a sharp iron scent that crinkles your nose.

Pushing through the wave of dizziness persuading you to the floor, you grab at the blankets frustratedly. You check them meticulously, scrutinizing them for even a speck of blood, but they’ve been far luckier in their escape of your mess. Throwing them haphazardly onto the floor, you set into action, working to hide the messy consequences of your cycle.

There’s no real need for the urgency that you move with, especially as every aching fibre in your body screams at you to slow down. Rationally, you know Simon wouldn’t react poorly to your calamity in the slightest, even if you asked him to change the sheets while you cleaned yourself up. He’s stayed with you during other cycles, never blinking an eye at anything menstruation throws at you. Yet he’s not here to help, and interrupting whatever he’s doing just to do something you feel capable of seems selfish. On another level, you don’t want Simon to see this right now. Frustration eats at you – for being stuck with this, for being surprised with an early cycle, and maybe just a little bit because you really wanted those goddamn cuddles. You’ve wrestled three of the four corners off when Simon catches you stripping the bed, a towel drapes around his neck, shirt damp with sweat that still drips from his hair.

“What’re y’doin’, handsome?” He rumbles, an eyebrow raised as he stands on the other side of the bed. His eyes flicker between the blankets clumped on the floor and the sheet you’re mid-tugging off the mattress.

Though his question is fair, the obviousness of your situation, and your irrational irritation makes it feel like he’s rubbing your misfortune in. Gritting your teeth, you wrench a little harder than needed at the fabric. “S’my fault, I’ll chuck it in the wash.” You grumble, pulling up the mattress to unhook the last corner, ignoring how your back groans with the motion. Simon makes a noise of protest, not unkind as he snatches the sheet you’re trying to bundle in your arms. “Don’t be daft, mate.”

His tone is flat and slightly exasperated as he pulls the sheet from you, looking at the myriad of stains on your front, glazing over the angry expression you’re giving him at his little quip. Before you can open your mouth to say something, he turns you by your shoulders, escorting you to the bathroom.

“What’re you doing?” You huff, taking your turn to ask an obvious question as you let him steer you to the ensuite. A grunt is your only response as he pushes you through the door, his warm hand leaving your shoulders to pull back the liner fully. You watch as Simon turns the taps, listening to the pipes creak as water begins to dribble from the head. He doesn’t make any move to pull off his sweaty athleisure, just fiddles with the tap, turning it much hotter than Simon would usually take his showers – oh.

Taking the hint, you pull off your boxers, wincing as the cold air hits your now-exposed, sticky skin. Simon’s hand is under the water, breaking the droplets’ fall as the water warms, but his attention is now focused on you. When you straighten up, tossing your briefs to the hamper, he meets your unhappy look with a question.

“Pancakes?”

You blink at him, indignance still plastered on your face in a grumpy scowl as your brain struggles through the pain fogging your thoughts, and Simon just raises an eyebrow.

“Eggs ‘n toast? Take-out?’

A moment of bemusement passes as you think for a second, until your mouth drops into a little o-shape, and guilt tints your cheeks red. “Oh.”

Simon huffs affectionately, echoing your “oh” as he pulls his hand back, waiting for you to answer.

“Pancakes?” You mumble, looking up at him through your lashes. The corner of his lips tug into what you’ve learnt is a forgiving smile, and he leans over your figure to press a soft, unexpected kiss to your forehead. His lips are soft – good, he’s had a drink after working out – and the appetising, musky smell of his BO fills your mouth as he leans in.

“Pancakes it is, darlin’,” he murmurs, pressing another kiss to the top of your head as he moves out the room, leaving the door slightly ajar behind him.

Before anything can drip from you and create an additional mess you can’t be bothered with, you climb into the showerbath, making sure the plug is hung up to avoid any water filling the tub. He’s perfected the temperature, and you feel like just lying down in the empty tub as your body goes boneless, feeling water drizzle down on you from the showerhead. It’s just enough to soothe the way your body aches, but not enough to make you feel any dizzier. By the time you’ve finished in the shower, your skin feels red and tender, but the heat has temporarily worked your muscles into a sleepy stupor. Though you swear the scent of metallic fetor lingers on your skin no matter how many scents you use, any visible remnant has been washed down the drain.

Pulling the liner back, a towel sits on the vanity, folded neatly with two painkillers resting atop the fabric’s surface and a half-full glass next to it. On the other side, a pair of your boxers and one of Simon’s shirts hangs from the edge. You didn’t even notice Simon slip in to leave them there – despite how long you’ve been with him, it’s still unnerving that such a big man can move without a sound.

Scooping the pills up, you take them with a mouthful of water, before unfurling the towel to dry yourself off. The ordeal is short, pausing to pull on your briefs and a sanitary product of choice before you finish drying your tender legs, hanging the towel to dry over the rail nailed to the wall.

A whiff of sweet, buttery batter permeates the bedroom as you step back into it, mentally bracing for a brutal war of ‘how many sides can I get on before one pops off’ with your goddamn super king sized bed. However, surprise stops you in your tracks, feet stuttering as you find the floor empty of blankets. They’ve returned to the bed, which has been made with a rehearsed, militarized perfection, corners tucked tightly in with barely a ripple across the taut fabric.

With one chore covered, you grab the hamper from the bathroom, walking out into the living room to the source of the smell. Simon is hidden in the kitchen, his back to the entrance as he stands over the stove, but the sound of your feet padding around the corner raises his head.

His hair is light and fluffy, the tips still damp as he puts down the spatula, walking over to take the hamper from you despite your objections. The musky sweat coating him earlier has been replaced with the artificial, clean scent of shampoo and soap - you have no clue how he’s managed to change the bed, wash himself in the spare bathroom, and make a start on breakfast before you finished your own shower.

Resigning, you move to the stove and take up the spatula, patting the pancake as bubbles rise to its surface. Barely a minute passes before Simon’s arms slip around you, taking the spatula back and letting it drop to the counter to interlock your fingers.

“Independent this morning, pet?” He murmurs, carefully placing his other hand over your stomach, feeling as it rises and dips with your laugh. The warmth that radiates from his palm is ridiculous, seeping into the sore muscles that are starting to ache again.

“C’mon, you’d call me feeding myself independent.” You tease, leaning back until your head meets his chest. It shakes as he huffs a quiet laugh, bouncing you slightly before answering.

“When I could be feedin’ you? Don’t reckon I’m wrong.” He grunts, wrapping your hand around the handle, his own still encompassing yours, smiling into your hair as he helps you flip the pancake with a flick of your wrist.

You give his retort an overly dramatic groan, but his attention is captured by an electronic beeping that sets off. The moment he pulls away, your body misses his heat, watching him open the microwave door to pull out a very familiar, tear-shaped heap of fabric. You step away from the stove, reaching out to take it from him as he extends it towards you. The cartoon-ish looking figure of a little ghost heatpack is hot to the touch, emitting the faintest smell of lavender and chamomile, and he gives you a small smile as you wrap your arms around it, holding it against your torso.

“You think of everything, huh?” You laugh, heart squeezing as he answers you with a lop-sided grin and turns back to the stove, pouring in the last of the batter.

“Not everythin’ – how ‘bout you make a cuppa and sit down, hm?” He rumbles, gesturing to near the fridge. Two cups are already coupled together on the counter, and you skip boiling the kettle again as lazy tendrils of steam already climb from its spout. Grabbing a couple of tea bags, you tuck the heating pack under your arm, filling up the mugs as you listen to the sizzling of the pan. Simon gives you a quiet “thanks, love” as you set down his mug next to the stove, but when you reach for a plate to start dishing out the cooked pancakes, you’re interrupted by a chiding “ah!” and large hands turning you around. “Go sit down love, I got this.”

The look you give Simon over your shoulder does nothing to sway his rejection of your help, big brown eyes staring back at you with an expectant look as he gently nudges you to the exit. Though it’s tempting to ignore him and stay, the effort of staying upright is slowly sapping any hint of energy you recovered in the shower.

Bringing your drink out and flopping yourself onto the couch, your legs scream in gratitude when your weight is finally shifted from them. The small ghost sits across your abdomen, radiating a relaxing warmth that soothes the muscles cramping violently underneath it.

Though it’s barely minutes that pass, Simon comes out to find you curled in the couch’s corner, wrapped up around the heating pad with a slight frown in your brow. The gentle clink of the ceramic against the coffee table stirs you from your light sleep, cracking your eyes open as Simon sinks into the couch next to you, his plate balanced on his thighs.

“Sorry love,” he murmurs apologetically, raising an arm to let you bury into him. You jump at the opportunity, shuffling yourself to press against his side, and a content relaxation falls upon you as his arm covers you protectively. Without moving you too much, Simon leans forwards to grab your plate, resting it on your lap and tucking a fork into your hand.

Looking at the pancakes, he’s given you an extra one in your stack, drizzled generously with your favourite toppings. Your chest squeezes at the sight, each carefully placed topping another homage to the tenderness that your lover struggles to verbalise.

“You’ve done so much for me this morning, Si.” You start remorsefully, eyes downcast to your stack of pancakes. With a grunt, Simon reaches for his fresh mug perched precariously on the couch’s arm, using a spare finger to hit the on button of the remote sitting next to it. “Not allowed to give my special boy some love when he’s roughed up?”

You give him a good-natured huff, digging into his side playfully. “Make it sound like I’m wounded, Si.” Simon snorts, pulling his eyes away from the TV to shoot you an amused look. “With the amount of blood, y’could’ve convince me.”

You laugh at the comment, letting the light warmth fill your chest until it’s dampened by the unspoken guilt still sitting miserably on your conscience. “Sorry for bein’ grumpy earlier,” you mumble.

Simon hums, pulling you tighter as he cuts into a pancake with his fork, raising it to your mouth. “Kinda figured you wouldn’t be top shape after seein’ the blood, s’alright pet. Y’ve told me that this shit hurts more than normal.”

Taking the mouthful, you give him a small, grateful smile, reaching for your own plate and cutlery to share a piece back. The pancakes are light and fluffy, not heavy enough to upset your stomach, but enough to be filling for how insatiable your appetite can get. “Thanks, Si. Still appreciate you’re patient with me, though.”

He hums thoughtfully as he chews, gently rubbing his thumb mindlessly against your thigh. “Patient? Nah. Johnny said y’deserve a ring for bein’ patient with my shit after deployment – he’d take the piss if I told him you’re thankin’ me for being patient.”

The way Simon drops the idea of marriage is so calm and casual, a significant contrast to how it makes your heart soars in your chest. Reigning in your excited response, you take another mouthful, giving him a grin that can’t quite hide how much you like the idea. “Hope you told him how useful this little guy has been,” you gesture to the ghost on your lap, “because it’s definitely my second favourite ghost since he bought it.”

The narrowed glare that Simon gives the plush heating pad has you giggling around a forkful of pancakes, looking at him with light-hearted exasperation. “Oh c’mon, I said second favourite!” You chuckle, watching him roll his eyes with a grumble.

“Yeah, yeah,” his tone is low and playfully grumpy, rumbling through you. “S’long as it’s me you’re cuddlin’ at night, ‘m not havin’ a toy steal my man.”

Mindful of your plates, you wrap an arm across his chest and ignore how your stomach complains at the movement, squeezing him lightly. “Never, Si. My favourite ghost.”

With a satisfied noise, he looks down at you, a mischievous half-grin on his face. “Good, that thing couldn’t fuck you half as well.”

The cheeky remark gets him a deeper dig in the side, enough to pry a grunt from him as he squirms, though he’s still careful with how much he jostles you. Silence quickly falls over you, Simon watching the news with a protective arm around you. He sips at his tea as you finish your plate, running a hand through your hair every now and then, placing a few kisses to your scalp.

When you’ve finished your meal, you put the plate on the coffee table, reaching for Simon’s to stack them together. Reaching forwards has you wincing, a pulsating pain in your core that makes your tailbone ache, and Simon swoops in to stop you in your tracks.

“Sit your ass down already,” he grouches, pushing you back into the couch as he scoops up your plate. “Told you, you’re bein’ dependent today.”

[simonsrileyhusband]

i’m absolutely obsessed with your blog, loving the male reader representation 🫡🫡

could i pretty please hear your take on ftm reader who’s too stressed out and simon’s solution is just fucking him until he’s too subby and floaty to worry

(def not projecting who would ever think that)

nsfw:

everytime you start complaining about work or studies simon know what he has to do.

he slowly moves closer to you as you ramble, simon starts with a few kisses on the cheek and nose that slowly drift down to your neck and everytime you ask what hes doing he will answer something like "nothing luv, keep talking" or "dont mind me, what else did he say?"

and he would slowly make his way down, pulling your shirt up, kissing and bitting on your stomach, pulling down your pants.

when you are stressed out simon loves to eat you out, he says its the best way to make your mind shut up. he gets as messy as he wants, pushing his fingers inside of you and he sucks on your clit, his mouth and jaw drenched.

and when you cum for the second time he gives your clit a little kiss before he pulls away.

"imma fuck that stress out of ya', m'kay? ill take care of you, luv."

[dimlylittorch]

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.

[adnauseum11]

Love the way Sy captures the nervousness and trepidation. Excellent work as always.

final part of piercer!simon. read the previous bit.

simon x transmasc!reader. ~2.1k words. +18 only. Note: Cunt, cock, and clit are used to describe genitalia of a trans masc reader’s body. Hit the back and/or block buttons as needed. CW: description of piercing procedure, dubcon touching (reader is interested and generally consenting, but a lil scared because simon), packing, minor negative self-talk, needles (mentioned), invasive questions, simon riley’s bad filthy jokes, mild degradation, praise, fingering, frotting, just the tip, italicized dialogue

Want to see what a Duke piercin' would look like on you?

No sooner than you mutter a ‘yes’, Simon helps you to your feet, and orders you to strip from the waist-down. He turns away to rummage through an acrylic cabinet. Hands trembling, you pop your fly and pull the zipper. At the sound, the broad set of shoulders and back in front of you tense. You hesitate, fingers curled around your waistband, and his head swivels a fraction. He’s listening.

Your breath shudders. This is a preview. Not the actual piercing. 

Your jeans are barely to your thighs when he faces you again, steel forceps back in hand, two bells pinched in his fingers. Staring through half-lidded, dark eyes, he gestures to your boxer briefs with the instrument.

Those too. All the way off. Nothing I haven’t seen before. 

You doubt it. Slow as molasses, you peel the cotton down, carefully taking the modest foam packer with it. Your eyes fix themselves to the crease of Simon’s bent arm, the inky black of his tattoo, but you can’t close your ears to how he inhales deeply through his nose. Not in the way you expect. With interest, like he’s trying to sniff you out.

All the way off. He repeats.

You obey and step out of the pile of clothes. Simon hums. Reluctantly, you meet his gaze and find him staring. His eyes narrow slightly, apparently having waited, then drag down your body. Their weight palpable when they reach your cock.

Pretty.

Simon steps closer and chucks your chin with the forceps. The cold makes you swallow, and his subtle crows' feet crinkle. 

Do you trust me?

He knows the answer. You’ve paid him to stab you over a dozen times, but he needs a ‘yes’, and you give it to him. He moves. Both you and him.

Despite the cool, sterile atmosphere of Simon’s studio, you feel like you’re melting. Heat licks up your back, curling around your neck and cheeks, blistering with a mix of humiliation and anticipation. Every nerve ending alight, and Simon hasn’t even touched you, at least, not where you want him to.

Comfy?

Another ‘yes’ ekes out.

Legs spread and hauled over Simon’s thick thighs, you recline between his legs, facing a mirror. One hand guides your hips into a slight angle, putting your cock on display. His arms slip under yours, smoothing the corner of the bandage protecting your fresh navel piercing.

A chuckle rumbles through your back and tightens your chest. The hand on your stomach shifts, and his arm bands around your middle. Tucking his head into your shoulder, paper mask skimming your cheek, he draws the forceps closer to his target, and his breathing quiets in your ear. Beneath the lingering smell of disinfectant, smoke and cardamom wafts off his skin.

Gonna be cold. I’ve got you.

And it is, and he does. You fight your reflexes as he maneuvers the instrument between your thighs, brushing your cock and the sensitive dip of skin and hair. Gently exposing you further, he coos in your ear, a smugness edging his voice when it twitches. Look at you. Perfect candidate. 

The chill bites as the blunt jaws hold the skin away from your cock, and your eyes dart between it and your cunt. Your fingertips dig into his thighs at the sheen of arousal threatening to pool and drip. There’s no way he hasn’t noticed.

Hold these. Simon taps the handle. Don’t move or it’ll hurt.

Your hand takes over, and his grip relents. A barbell in each hand, he slowly moves the jewelry into places, his breath deep and even. Rapt, your mouth parts. The symmetry is simple, yet—

Gorgeous. Eyes flicking to him in the reflection, you preen, and his deep, rattling breath makes you shiver. Do you get hard often?

You wilt and think to rise, bail, but then he rubs the steel along the sides of your cock, coaxing it to attention. The move chokes his name out of your throat, and you nearly drop the tool. A huff of laughter filtered by the mask warms your face. He meets your eye in the mirror and continues.You like that, pretty? Can feel how stiff you are.

His thighs open further, taking yours with them, his covered mouth pressing to your neck. His fingers stray from the bells every other arc against your cock, gingerly stroking. At the escape of a whine, he drops the pretense altogether. The jewelry clatters to the ground abandoned, and he reclaims the forceps. He drags the flat, oval tips over your skin as if they were as soft as a feather. His free hand snakes under the hem of your shirt, shoving up until it glides to the base of your neck. A thumb rests in the hollow of your throat. The sight in the mirror renders you speechless, watching his dexterous fingers manipulate the metal to tease and toy, winding you up until you shake.

Normally can’t get you to shut it, now you’re as quiet and as fidgety as a church mouse. Simon ditches the tool next, splitting two thick fingers to take its place. They edge down, slick soaking the latex, and he groans against your head. The digits creep further, slow, one experimentally touching the tender underside of your cock, while the other pets over your hole, clearly telegraphing what’s next. 

Simon removes his hand altogether, chuckling at the whine that follows. Yeah, like that. He holds your gaze, licking the tips of his gloves clean before biting a latex tip and tugging the glove off. He hawks the thing to the floor with a wet slap, and pulls his mask under his chin. Pale, old scars decorate his face and knuckles. There’s a story, and you think to ask, but he pushes his fingers past your lips and stuffs them into your mouth. Sweat and hand soap dance over your tongue as he makes use of it, wetting his fingers up to the metacarpal, groaning at the sight of spit collecting on his skin. Wanna hear you, pretty.

You’re dripping by the time his fingers return, and with a single shaky nod in the mirror, he sinks them into your sopping cunt. Electric currents buzz bilaterally in your spine, and sparks ricochet behind your eyelids when you shut them tight and rapidly open again. His naked mouth finds your ear with whispered, unintelligible filth. He grins, self-satisfied, half-hidden by your head. Was thinkin’, he purrs with a slow pump of his fingers, I usually put holes in you. Don’t mind plugging this one.

If he wasn’t knuckles deep, you’d leave. Definitely. Wrench yourself off his—his fingers crook into a devastating angle, petting with the precision his job demands. The wet seal of your hole around his fingers is a sight, walls molding to the intrusion. He stokes a fire in your belly, simmering beneath the bandage, finally cajoling words from your mouth. Your voice, saturated with desperation, begs for more.                                                                                

Simon’s hand grasps your neck, giving it a squeeze in time with a thrust of his fingers. Greedy boy. You always want more. More jabs. He punctuates with a deep plunge and vulgar squelch. More attention. More me.

His mouth latches over your neck and suckles, groans muffled when you clench around his digits. He breaks the suction with a wet pop, trailing his spit to a lobe. Had a feeling when you started booking me. Didn’t think much of it. 

He extracts his fingers at the early pulses of your orgasm, spanking the wet tissue with a few harsh pats. You’re fuckin’ annoying. He chuckles at the ease of his fingers’ reentry into the tight clasp of your cunt. But you’re good like this, aren’t you.

He repeats the process twice. Gets you twitching, squirming in his lap. The blunt shape of his erection digs into your bare skin, the denim chafing. Half-consciously, you ride it, trying to rut back into it as he fucks his fingers in, thumb minding your cock. A hand migrates to the bulge of his forearm through your shirt, and the sweat on the palm leeches into the cotton.

He grunts into your ear between sloppy kisses to your jaw and neck. His thumb presses the flushed tip of your cock once, reminding you of his plans. The metal he wants you to wear. Leagues more intimate than any collar or ring. The thought makes you twitch, makes your hole clench.

Simon’s grip on your neck loosens, climbing to your jaw, holding your face straight to the mirror. His eyelids curtain blown pupils, licking a line on your skin. Let go, pretty. Be a good boy and cum on my fingers. The command triggers detonation, your orgasm obliterating the vestiges of your self-control. Hard, fast, and white-hot, it rips out of you in a pitchy cry, hands scrabbling at his thigh and arm, certain you’ll ascend heavenward too early. He holds fast, fingers secure in the vise of your cunt as it tries to milk honey from their stone.

Mind fuzzy with static at its edges, you hear him mutter. All you get is a moment’s rest before you find yourself upended, dragged bodily off the floor, supported by his arms. You ragdoll a second, jerking when your toes drag, and he settles you back on the lifted cot. Your eyes loll in their sockets, blinking, finding sudden clarity when his hips knock your knees apart. His cock, heavy and leaking, rests on the cradle of his opened zipper and juts into the meat of your leg. You tense. The light glints off the row of barbells adorning his length, and your breath catches. If his girth didn’t intimidate you, the ladder did.

What? Afraid it’ll hurt? He drags a thumb slowly over the raised ridges, the metal lying beneath the surface. His gloved hand grips the crease of your thigh, thumb resting above the crown of your engorged clit, caressing the damp hair. He strokes himself with the other, hissing through the first few pumps. You inhale as he slaps his cock, already slick with your release and his precum, against your sensitive flesh. It catches your tip, then briefly the mouth of your soaked cunt, garnering a whimpering protest out of you. Not today. Promise.

Sweat and cum coat his fingers as he pushes his cock to yours, gradually finding a course and a rhythm. The heat of him is heavy, the smooth ends of his piercings drumming along your cock and skin. It’s embarrassing how quickly Simon wrests a second orgasm out of you, mortifying when he breathlessly comments he wishes you squirted, that he loves a mess. It’s not as all-encompassing as the first and doesn’t threaten to rattle you off the table. You’re lucid when he notches his tip to your fluttering hole. Fuck, need a taste, jus' the tip.

Simon’s thrusts are shallow and controlled—enough to drown out the alarm bells, illustrating the power held back. The blunt head stretches with a slight burn despite his fingers and the mess of your cunt. To your relief, he keeps his word, means it, just the tip. He pulls back a half-step, a choked groan preceding the thick ropes of spend he spills over your inner thighs. He releases his softening length, hand planting on the bed, and leans into your space. His head skims your shoulder, gathered beads of sweat fall from his temple, ragged breaths subsiding into quiet puffs. He withdraws, lips ghosting over your cheek, and turns to the acrylic cubbies. 

Simon cleans and tucks himself away first, then you, amused by your squirming. He retrieves your clothes and insists on holding your underwear and jeans for you to step into. You swallow your pride to let him help. Aftershocks ripple through your thighs, the muscles and nerves pulverized into gelatin, malleable from his touch. He adjusts the packer, drags a knuckle over the fly seam, then holds you close with a finger hooked in a belt loop. After all that, he asks if you want the piercing now that you’ve seen the placement. He can pencil you in a month from now.

After all that, he asks if you want the piercing now that you understand the placement. He can pencil you in a month from now.

You don’t miss how the suggested date falls on a Friday evening. You tell him you need to think about it. It’s quite the commitment, from what you’ve learned.

Simon unlocks the door as you gather your jacket from the waiting area out front. Bars the exit with an arm, an aftercare kit dangling between two fingers. You pluck it from him, meeting his eyes over the fresh surgical mask.

My Johnny loves his Duke. Could show you, might change your mind.

[astr0exe]

CW / info : NSFW : tm! reader : he/him : no y/n

Camboy!reader who’s main donators are loser!Soap & Ghost. Both men deny being gay cause your lives are just a way for them to get off even though they jerk each other off to your delicious symphony of moans from through the screen

Camboy!reader who loves when Soapie and S.Ghost join your lives, making sure you put on a proper show for your favourite boys:(

Loser!Soap and Ghost who spend most their wages on Camboy!Reader, with donations and buying them outfits or toys. You even have silicone molds of both their dicks:(

Camboy!Reader who invites Simon and Johnny over as a thank you for all their donations and offers to let them fuck them live, in front of their audience.

Losers!Simon and Johnny who JUMP at the chance, pawing at you like horny dogs, whining and drooling all over your perfect body

Loser!Simon who tries to eat you out as Johnny plows into you but he doesnt know how but makes up for it in enthusiasm

[sexydoffyman]

*cough cough*

❗NSFW REQUEST❗

Ghost with Ftm!reader who's infertile

He can breed his manpussy without worrying about him getting pregnant.

HE DOESN'T NEED TO WORRY

navigation

genre: smut

characters: Simon Riley

A/N: If you know me irl don't read this.

He would have never guessed you were trans if you hadn't told him. It was a medical emergency. And of course, he was proper with his act thanks to you telling him. It ended with you being able to get the right treatment in time.

His views on you didn't really change. He had liked you way before you told him. But your actions gave him ideas. Ideas that he wanted to try.

The first time he got you in his bed, he was gentle, soft, caring. He was sweet with his words and actions. Poor you. You didn't even know what you were getting yourself into. He somehow managed to sneak a question into your conversation without being suspicious.

The question being, "Can ya have kids?" It seemed like a totally normal question that one would ask out of curiosity. Of course, you had to answer honestly.

He became obsessed with the idea of having you spread out on his bed only for him to fuck. Only for him to breed. He wanted to fill your walls white. He wanted to push your body into the mattress and whisper filth into your ear.

It was a while after training, and he was impatient. He wanted and needed to feel you. He approached you, talking awkwardly. He asked you if you wanted to fuck with him, to which you responded with the same level of awkwardness.

He had everything ready. It was a winter night, so he made sure the room was warm before letting you in. Even tho the heater was only on 1 it did the job. The blinds were shut. The light was dim. The bed was made nicely to impress you. And if anything went wrong, he had a plan b pill lying in a cupboard.

He was so fucking ready to do this. To fuck you up. To make you his. He was slow at first getting you used to his size, which was always a concern of his due to his and your size. He moved his hips softly, not being too harsh on you.

You always valued the way he didn't rush you. He'll be rougher from the start when you've shared a couple more nights together. Oh, don't worry. He lost himself after the first few minutes of being inside of you. The feeling was mesmerising.

He thrusted into you with no intention of leaving you able to walk in the morning. He stopped thinking and let his dick lead the way. You looked just perfect in the dim light.

He didn't last long that night for a very obvious reason. He finished inside of you, pushing any of his sperm that leaked out of you back in.

His dreams finally came true. It became very strange to others when they saw you leaving Ghost's room at midnight every now and then.

[buttdumplin]

The boys ask you about your feelings on packers.

cw: poly!141 x transmasc!reader, established relationship, complex gender feelings, comfort word count: 1036

A/N: An immense thank you to @mikichko for having my back and encouraging me with this. Some shit got worked out and it couldn't have happened without her love and support <3

“It’s the potential for disappointment that scares me.”

You lay spread out on the couch in the living room and four sets of eyes turn to you. Simon and Kyle, already sitting nearby, inch closer and you welcome it. They’ve got your head propped up by the softness of Kyle’s thigh, your feet and lower legs resting on Simon’s lap, by the time Johnny and Price come in from the kitchen, lunch prep abandoned. Avoiding their unspoken pleas for eye contact, you turn your head and half bury your face in the warmth of Kyle’s belly. 

“What are we talking about here?” Johnny’s worry evident. 

“Packers,” Kyle explains softly, tracing your features with his fingers.

A little out of it, Johnny turns to Price for further explanation who simply grabs at his own crotch instead of speaking. Johnny nods, quickly back in the loop. He takes a seat on the couch arm, pressing close against Kyle. John settles on the floor, kneeling at your side. You all want to say something, move and offer your seat to him, to spare his knees, but the huff he gives warns that this is not the time.

“And what would the disappointment be?” he gets straight to it.

“I wouldn’t feel it.”

“You’d feel the heft of it, the pressure of your clothes,” Kyle offers.

Johnny follows up quickly, “Change the way you walk and sit too, feel the motions.”

“But I wouldn’t feel it. On me, sure. Against my body, yeah. It would change how I maneuver, but I wouldn’t be able to feel through it. I’m scared it will be a painful reminder of what isn’t.”

John gently cuts through, “Do you want what isn’t?”

You don’t have to deliberate over your response, “No, I’m happy with my growth.”

“So are we,” Kyle winks down at you, Johnny nodding along with a wicked grin.

You chuckle, easing open from the full-body curl you hid in, Simon’s hand squeezing your calf with encouragement. As much as concern might be pinching their faces, all the boys’ bodies are soft in that moment. They all lean towards you, engulfing you with their support, attentive gazes watching every move and response. It’s startling to think they can see so much of you, see through you, but it just envelops you in a nest of safety.

“Then it’s sensation,” John tries again. He eases back a bit when you nod, can’t help but feel a little successful as you open up.

Johnny’s eyebrows scrunch, “But you love the strap.” 

“Yeah, but that’s different.”

“How so?”

“It just is.”

“But you can’t feel that either.”

“I know that.”

The back and forth isn’t very long, but your rising frustration is evident. Just as you’re about to get up to take a break from the conversation, Simon speaks, big, brown eyes meeting yours with a vulnerability of his own.

“Is it because the packer would be specifically for you and not something to be directly used for someone else or their pleasure? Because it would be for you and how you feel and you’re worried how that might detract from any perception of the ‘usefulness’ of it, and that makes you feel selfish?”

Your tears answer him, your throat too choking full of emotion to do anything other than let them fall silently. Your fingers scramble across your body to take his hand, and he meets you with an almost terrifying force, his grip locking you into place as he bends closer to you. 

His eyes remain fixed to yours as he speaks, voice rumbling from his tears, “You deserve to have your needs met. All of them. They do not have to be convenient or in any way beneficial to others. They are your needs, and that makes them important. Doesn’t matter what they are, we will meet them.”

You pull him down against you as your breath finally breaks into a sob, drowning yourself in the warm weight of his body. You can hear him sniffle by your ear, his tears wet your temple. Wrapping your arms around him, comforting him with every little touch, you repeat thank you’s into his skin. 

Kyle stirs and you look up to see the other three boys. John’s face is serious as his speaks, wide shoulders set straight, eyes sharp. Kyle and Johnny take in every word, their posture rigid and familiar as they listen to their instructions. You can’t quite hear what they say over the roaring in your ears, but when John looks down at you with a smile, you know to trust their actions. 

After a couple of minutes of what must be questions and suggestions floating between the three, your breathing eases, as does Simon’s. He slowly peels himself from you, still staying within your reach, and you sit to properly clean yourself up with the tissues Kyle hands you. 

John turns to you, his tone firm, “You want to try.” You nod again and he smiles, shoulders dropping into a more relaxed pose, his voice softer this time, “Need to hear you say it, sweetheart.”

“Yes, I want to try.”

“Good. That’s all we need to know. Johnny will look into the packers and Kyle will find the appropriate wear for them. I know you’ve been wanting a jock strap for a while now,” there’s a hungry spark in his eyes and your face burns at his words. Trust him to remember that detail. Still, the fact that they’re willing to take on that work, to alleviate the stress and frustration and potential overwhelm of looking through options, makes your heart glow.

“They’ll bring you what they find so you can take your pick, at least this first time.”

You turn towards them and they meet you with smiles, eyebrow waggling in an excessive show of giddiness, but you can see a sincere eagerness to help clear on their faces. 

“Simon stays here, you two cozy up while I finish dinner. After we eat, we’ll come back here so the boys can show us their findings on the big screen.”

You startle a bit, “Oh, this is happening tonight?”

John shrugs, smile bright and wide, “Think of it as dessert.”

[eleganthologramcolor]

TEASER FOR SIMON RILEY X TRANS FTM READER

Anyway I haven't gotten it all sorted out yet but what about a stereotypical bad boy biker Simon x Preacher's daughter (no, son!) AU...

Warnings for religious stuff / transphobia, toxic parents, mean Simon? But for a good cause Ig it's technically forcemasc, implied corruption

You've heard all about him, he's big, he's bad, he's fucking disgusting and gets into bar fights because it gets him going. He's heard about you, too, how your mum and dad whisper to the other elders at the church about you, about how you're about ready to move out and they're afraid of you going through with those 'childish dreams' of yours, how you might just change your hair, or throw away the little girls' edition of the Bible and talk with a doctor about changing it up. How you are such a sweet little thing, an obedient little lamb who wilted at the mere thought of disappointing your parents. How he manages to bump into you at one of those little bake sales for the church, and little by little he coaxes you out, brings you farther and farther away from the safety of watchful judgemental eyes and starts telling you how stupid those dresses look on you. Takes you out somewhere on his bike and peels them off, asking you if you wanna know how real men play.

[nocturnesmoon]

Writing this while laying in bed and trying to combat my period pains. The painkillers are in fact not working, so maybe fantasizing about these two will instead-

Simon "Ghost" Riley x John "Soap" Mactavish x Transmasc!Reader

I just feel like Simon and Johnny would be amazing at caring for you, doing your period. Maybe they wouldn't be the most knowledgeable at first, but they are quick intuitive learners, and seeing their darling in pain isn't something they can stand for.

If they happen to be home during your period, expect the utmost and best care of your life. Don't feel like eating anything? Don't worry, they've made something just in case you get hungry. Need to take a shower but don't got the energy, don't worry, I'm sure both of them would be happy to help you out.

There is not a single craving they will not help satiate. Chocolate? Johnny's got something to spare, chips? Already in the cabinet, gummies? One of them is going to the shop while the other one cuddles you. That one very hype specific food craving that's really an absolutely ridiculous request? What do you mean ridiculous love, they've got it right here.

I normally get really bad cramps, and the only type of painkiller I'm allowed to take, doesn't help whatsoever. And if that was the case, I just have to believe that, the boys would then do everything else in their power to make you comfortable. They've got the heating pad ready in the charger, a hot beverage on the bedside table. If the heating pad isn't enough, they'll help with pressure instead, by either laying on top of you or having you on top of them and pressing their rough hands on the spots where it hurts.

You're not left alone for a second, unless you specifically request the alone time. If one has to go somewhere, the other will stay with you until they get back. He would put on your favourite movie, while you lay in his arms and snack on whatever it was you're craving. Don't feel like watching something? That's okay, you could read a book together, play a game, or even just lay and talk.

If there are chores to be done, they'll get it done for you, unless you insist that you can manage. Even then, once they see you huff and puff in pain, they'll practically order you away from the task, taking over for you and finishing up.

They know you're perfectly capable of doing it yourself, even in pain, but they'd rather have you resting on the couch, as comfortable as you can get, while they take care of it for you. You already do so much for them when they're home from deployment, doing everything you can to make sure they're resting, and spending quality time with you. Let them return the favour once in a while, making sure you're well cared for.

They know that your period can be a source of dysphoria, when it turns extra bad. They won't stand for your own self-deprecating thoughts. They'll reassure you at all the right times, as if they can read your mind. Reminding you that, you are their beautiful boy, the only man they could've ever wished for, that no matter what your silly head makes you think, they've always seen you as exactly who you are. It doesn't matter what you think your physical appearance might say, to them, you'll always be their man.

Maybe I'm just delusional, but I just feel like they'd be amazing for you. No matter what you might need from them, they'll do their best to provide. They love you so dearly, if there is any slight thing they can do to alleviate your distress, it's already been done before you can even ask.

I think the fact that I'm laying here alone, and I don't have a Simon or Johnny to take care of me should be a crime.

Anyways that's all Moon out-

[simonsrileyhusband]

Helloo!! Could we get nerd!ftm!reader x simon, pleaseee??? - reader would be talking a lot about his special intrest in the evening and simom would get bored and start to tease reader. But simon would want reader to keep talking while he playing with his €lit 💗 thank youu (LOVE YOUR WORK!!) - 🍀

nsfw

"mhm, what did ya' say love?" he asks, his breath hitting your neck, his hand buried deep inside your underwear, drawing little cirlcles on your clit.

"simon-"

"tell me, i couldn't hear ya" he mumbles, kissing your neck softly.

"i-i said that max verstappen got a new dog."

"oh, did he now?... interesting." he actually didn't care, he was too focused on making you stumble on your words or become so needy that you beg him to just fuck you.

"yeah, h-he likes cats." your voice gets shaky as simon pushes one of his fingers into your wet hole.

"yeah, i know." simon whispers, moving his finger inside of you. "you gonna keep talking about him or can i kiss you?"

[dimlylittorch]

these boys yall.. why have 1 when you can have 4😭🙏

My Masterlist🌱

the 141 x chubby!transmasc!sweetheart!volunteer!reader

warnings: mentions of violence, blood, hurt/comfort

you had decided that you wanted to do something more purposeful with your life. Instead of working a retail job during the summers between your college courses, you decided to start volunteering with the Red Cross (or whatever your equivalent would be).

You end up being sent to work at a military base, mainly focused on the care and comfort of the soldiers. you were almost acting how a therapy dog would- you go around and interact with the soldiers sweetly, doing your absolute best to be a ray of sunshine for them.

you kept a clipboard on you at all times, keeping track of every soldiers name, rank, and adding little notes for things you wanted to remember. There were a lot of men here, and keeping track of them all was hard- especially when some didn’t even show their faces.

Always wearing silly little pins on your shirt, one with your pronouns, another that said ‘free hugs’. You liked them and you always felt a little smile creep up over your lips when you felt some of the men reading them.

You quickly became familiar with the task force 141, as they were some of the more highly trained soldiers, easily setting them apart. You had also been assigned to focus on a certain sector of barracks, which just so happened to include their own. Little did you know what it would be like to be a bunny walking into a wolf’s den.

The first person you met was Ghost. You had decided to do a ‘treat day’ once a week, where you went to each barrack and knocked on the door, either handing the soldiers their treat or leaving it by their door. The other three hadn’t answered, but when you get to Ghost’s dorm you heard a huff and the click of the lock.

What you never expected was to see Ghost shirtless in dark gray sweatpants and his mask pulled over his face. He looks down at you with a hard stare, and naturally your eyes flit to his bare chest for a moment before quickly looking up to meet his gaze. You’d seen him in passing, but you’d never spoken.

“You’re Lieutenant Riley, correct?” You smiled up at him, doing your best to act like he wasn’t half naked in front of you.

“Call me Ghost. Wha’ do ya’ want?” He mutters gruffly as he keeps one hand on the door and the other on the door frame.

Smile faltering for just a moment, you quickly reach into the small satchel you had on. “I’m the new volunteer that’s assigned to your dorm sector” you explain as you pull out a little bag of cookies, tied with a ribbon. “I thought I’d do a treat day for you all once a week” you murmur as you offer him the bag.

He stares at it for a few seconds, a little caught off guard. He gently takes it from you, looking at it carefully before looking back at you. “Dogs get treats.” He mutters, though there’s no real bite to his tone.

Your smile quickly widens, a soft chuckle slipping past your lips- which immediately makes his heart stop for a moment. That laugh.. that laugh was something he knew he’d want to hear again. There was nothing soft or sweet on this goddamn base. They couldn’t even hire someone for the night- no way to sneak them in. But then you showed up on his doorstep.

Closing your satchel, you look up at him with a playful smile. “Good boys get treats. I don’t think the species matters.” You grin before you offer a small wave of goodbye, walking down the hallway onto your next stop. He stands frozen in his doorway, watching you as you walk away. You just called him a good boy? Christ almighty.

It was pretty damn obvious what happened next- Ghost told the rest of the boys about you. How soft and sweet you were- how you flirted with him and made it seem like nothing. You were a natural at being kind. Something they weren’t used to.

The second to meet you was Gaz. He was a charmer, and unlike Soap he was actually successful at it. He’d had a whole plan of how he was going to be all suave when he introduced himself to you formally- but that changed pretty quickly.

You had been doing some work right next door to the medical ward when some soldiers returned from a mission gone wrong. Multiple men were injured, and without even thinking you went in to help. You weren’t qualified to work in the medical field whatsoever, but you knew you had to help.

When you ran into the med bay injured soldiers were being brought in one after another. Someone saw your jacket that indicated you were a volunteer and in the midst of the chaos assumed you were working in this ward- meaning you had training. They pointed towards the doors and yelled at you to check for anyone else outside.

You immediately followed orders, running outside and seeing different vehicles parked. Running up to them you checked the backs for anyone else, finding one injured soldier left with his side bleeding heavily. When you look around for help there is no one to help found, everyone within the area inside to help.

It was a good walk to the doors, and you knew the keys weren’t in the truck. You huff, opening the back of the truck and pulling him out, taking a deep breath before helping him down. He can barely walk, and even you know you can’t lift him. You try multiple positions to see if you really could lift him, or help him walk, but he was too weak.

You end up settling on hooking your hands under his shoulders, pulling him the best that you could. It was incredibly difficult, and you felt like your shoulders were going to pull out of place. But in the heat of the moment you tugged as hard as you could, simply worried for his safety.

Gaz had just walked outside to get a breath of fresh air when he heard something, looking off to his left. His eyebrows quickly raised when he saw you practically killing yourself trying to lift and pull a man that was way too heavy for you. He quickly ran over, and seeing how distressed you were and the injured soldier he crouched down, picking the guy up himself.

“Fucking hell- what happened?” He says with a grunt as he starts carrying the man inside.

Taking a shaky breath and wiping your eyes, you follow him, opening the doors for him when you reach the building. “I don’t know” is all you can manage to choke out in the heat of the moment.

Once the injured soldier is settled, you look down and find yourself stained with his blood. When you’d tried to pick him up you must’ve gotten it all over you- god and you left a trail on the floor. Before Gaz can come check on you like he intended to, you disappear into a janitors closet, pulling out a mop as you try to clean up the trail of blood you and the soldier had left.

When Gaz sees you frantically trying to clean up the mess, he walks over and puts his hand on your shoulder. “Hey, hey.. you’re alright.” He says softly, gently taking the mop from your hands. “Someone else will do that. Let’s get you taken care of, hm?” He hums comfortingly as he leads you out of the medical ward and to your dorm area.

You sniff softly as he closes the door behind the two of you, helping you out of your blood soaked vest. “I’m sorry” you whisper faintly. “I just- I was scared I couldn’t help him.”

He gently shushes you, turning on the shower in your small bathroom for you. “You did good, love. The best anyone can expect from you.. it was out of your job description, eh?” He smiles softly. “I’ll go get this cleaned for you, alright? Just worry about calming down, I’ll come check on you in a bit.”

He came back maybe an hour later to you all cozied up in a sweatshirt and sweatpants with fluffy socks, hair wet with an apologetic smile on your lips. Taking the now clean vest from him and setting it aside before gently slipping your arms around his neck, hugging him. “Thank you for being gentle with me” you say softly against his shoulder before you pull away.

He left your room with his cheeks slightly flushed, and already head over heels for you. He thought Ghost must’ve been exaggerating at least a little by saying you were the sweetest thing he’d seen- but Gaz knew he was right.

Meeting Captain John Price himself was a bit of a dream for you. You’d always see him in the halls and you couldn’t deny how attractive he was. Of course, all of the boys were attractive- but there was something special about John, with him being older and his thick beard.. he was just so strong and soft at the same time, always offering you a kind smile when you passed each other in the hallway.

The first time you really spoke to each other was right around Valentine’s Day. You’d been there for a few weeks, but with John being so busy you hardly ever saw him. He heard a lot about you though with how much the boys talked. He knew they were all obsessed- even Soap when he hadn’t even had the chance to speak to you one on one yet.

You’d knocked on the door to his office, and when you heard his gruff voice tell you to come in, you gently opened the door and peaked inside. “Captain Price?” You said softly with a shy smile.

The second he heard your voice he quickly looked up, a smile crossing his face. “What can I do ya for?”

Stepping inside and closing his office door behind you, you hold your clipboard to your chest as you speak. “Well- with Valentine’s Day coming up, I wanted to do something sweet for the men.” You smile softly. “I just wanted to ask if you thought they would prefer flowers or chocolates” you chuckle.

His eyes soften as he hears your words, and he can see what his boys meant now. Christ you were soft. Flowers? Chocolates? Who would even think of giving that to a soldier?

“Flowers.” He says firmly. “Can’t ‘ave my boys getting pudgy on me, can I? Got to keep ‘em on their game.”

Smiling sweetly, you nod before politely excusing yourself. When Valentine’s Day rolled around, all of the boys were surprised to find a red rose taped to their door with a little personalized note for each and every one of them. Imagine how annoyed they were when they realized you had to give them to every soldier and not just them?

And last but not least is Soap himself. While you’d seen his goofy antics from afar, you hardly ever truly spoke. Just passing flirts and teases, brief hallway conversations. You’d only ever seen him in an upbeat mood- never truly upset or angry. The first time you see behind the puppy dog facade is surprising to say the least.

You had heard a crash a few doors down from your dorm, and you immediately rushed up- not bothering to put on your binder or even your shoes. Darting down the hallway to find one of the soldiers in their room throwing things and yelling, clearly having some kind of mental break. When you read the name on the door you rack your brain, trying to remember any information you can. That’s when you recall he has PTSD- and he’s probably having an episode.

You were the first one there and without a care for your own safety you opened his door, speaking as gently as you can as if you were talking to a wounded animal. Soap had been a few hallways down coming back from a mission, fully planning on getting a good nights rest. When he saw people running and heard yelling he immediately went on alert, running towards the source.

When he got to the room he saw a higher up on the phone with medical, but no one was doing anything. When he looked inside, his heart stopped when he saw you- how you were putting yourself in danger. You were a few feet away from the soldier, arms out trying to show you weren’t armed.

“Hey- hey, sweetheart you’re okay” you say as comfortingly as you can, the man clearly confused. “Adam- Adam, right? Honey you have to look at me, okay?”

Soap had seen how badly PTSD episodes could end, and the thought of you being in there put him on edge. Without thinking, a higher up rushed into the room, pushing past Soap. Of course, the sudden movement triggered the soldier, sending him into a panic. Since you were the closest person to him, he grabbed you by the neck and shoved you against the wall, yelling at the other men to get back.

The second Soap saw how he touched you, he immediately ran in and rushed the man, shoving him off of you. Gasping when your throat is released, you start to cough heavily, bruises already starting to form on your skin. Before you know it, Soap is fighting the man, throwing a punch before you can grab him and pull him back. As the medical personnel run in and restrain him, you’re left with your arms tightly around Soap’s torso, his back to your chest.

Shaking from the adrenaline of it all, he quickly turns around and pulls you close into his arms. “Fucking Christ lad- never pull that shite again, alrigh’? Gonna get yerself killed.” He says as his voice starts to calm.

Without a second thought he brought you to his room, examining your throat and making sure there weren’t any cuts or scratches. He can see how you’re still shaking, and he sighs softly before moving back onto his bed, motioning for you to follow.

“Won’t try nothin’, eh? Jus’ gotta stop yer shakin’.” He says quietly. Hesitantly moving onto his bed, he pulls you to rest on your side in between his legs, holding you against his chest. “Ya got a big heart lad.” He says softly. “Gotta keep ya safe, yea? Me an’ tha’ boys will do tha’ from now on.”

me while I’m reading my own writing: ‘this is great and all but when do we fu-‘

[thechaoticfemboystar]

IDEA

What about a ftm Ghost, ftm Soap, and ftm reader? Ghost being the top because of course, Soap being the switch, and reader being the bottom? I either saw this somewhere and if I did I can’t remember, or I had a very nice dream. Can someone please right this? Because I can’t get it out my head and I do not have the capabilities to write something like this and make it even remotely good.

[astr0exe]

hi!! i hope you’re doing well<3 can i req maybe some bunny reader n owner price with also some owner simon n puppy Soap?? soap meeting prices sweet bunny boy for the first time?? please ignore if you’re uncomfortable with this!!

also have a great trip!! 🩷🩷

aghs eating this idea rn cause gdksgdkshis tysm for the ask darlingg !! 🩶🩶 I’ll try have a great trip but ima be so busy:(( its gonna be super pretty tho so thas good :))

would anyone want a pt.2 maybe ? :]

ALSO WTF THANK YOU SO MYCH FOR 200 FOLLOWERS M GONNA SOB 🫶🏻🫶🏻

// CW : tm!reader , praise , doggy , lots of hair pulling , degradation , creampie , aftercare

Your ears twitch softly atop your head as you sit on Prices lap, slightly curled up with Prices large hands stroking your large floppy ears. The anxiety is radiating from you with your twitches, your nose, tail and ears give away your slightly hyperactive behaviour whilst you gaze at the duo in-front of you curiously. A large puppy hybrid with a mohawk called Johnny, who is grinning sloppily at you and his owner, Simon, who’s staring down at you curiosity is shown on his face slightly.

Soap can’t help it when his dick hardens in his sweats:( you’re just too cute bunny, so fucking sweet to look at with your soft ears and twitching nose.. Your eyes are glued to his crotch when you notice the bulge, Price smirks when he notices what your attention is on, moving to murmur in your ear “You like the look of Johnny’s cock bunny? What?.. What is it lovie.. You want it don’t you?-“ your blush is prominent which makes all the men laugh “Oh my little whore is so needy huh.. so flustered…”

Whilst John is talking both Soap and Simon make their way towards you, their smugness shown on their handsome faces as Soaps tail wags rapidly, his arousal and excitement showing as he basically vibrates with energy, just itching to get his hands on you, to taste you on his tongue and to feel you clench around his cock. His face is inches away from yours as he finally stops moving, his lips pulled into a smirk as his hands move to hold you, his large hands gripping your waist as his eyes gaze hungrily at your lips, “Soap, calm down..” Is all Ghost can bring himself to say, mesmerised and turned on by the obvious tension between you and his Johnny.

But Soap can’t help but disobey his owner.. his mouth meeting yours in a passionate kiss, filled with teeth and light biting. The soft assault on your lips makes your tail shake as you moan softly into Johnny’s mouth gripping his ears and tugging on them, your hips grinding lightly on Soap’s leg. The action makes Simon grin, inching ever closer, looming over both you and Price, who is just sat back lazily watching his bunny get used and played with. Simon’s hand moves slowly between your legs, as it touches your soft thighs you jump, goosebumps litter your skin due to Ghost’s cold fingers.

Your dumb bunny brain just completely shuts off as soon as you feel Simon’s fingers on your soaked hole and dick.. Whimpering into Soaps mouth loudly whilst Price tugs your ears and two of Simon’s massive fingers worm their way into your tight hole, your juices make the intrusion so much easier. Your whines are like music to the men, even with Soap’s mouth muffling them. The rhythm Ghost starts is surprisingly soft, but once he realises you can take it, his resolve shatters as he hears your sweet sweet moans and your quiet mumbles of “please.. harder.. can take it fuck… sir.. Please..” and something shifts in Simon, something primal. His fingers roughly slide in and out of your cunt, your tugs on Soap’s ears only grow harsher with the increased pleasure but Johnny only laughs and groans. His eyes flutter shut with every tug.

Your legs shake slightly, pushing away Soap softly as you grab Simon’s wrist, leaning against your owners body as your eyes roll back and your tongue lolls out of your mouth, Price holds your waist as your body shakes from the pure intensity of Simon’s fingers in you. As soon as your eyes are open again, Soap is on you, pulling you off Prices lap and onto the floor carefully, manhandling you until you are on all fours, your back arched and face pressed against the hard wooden floors.

Simon can’t help the appreciative groan that leaves his mouth from the sight of your bare arse in front of him, Price only gazes down at you pulling on your fluffy ears until you make eye contact with him. “You look so good like this bunny, perfect little slut for us to play with huh?” Price smirks down at you, the grip on your ears tight.

Your eyes widen as you feel Soap’s thick dick against your sopping hole, the eye contact with John is intense whilst Soap thrusts into you. Your breath is punched out of you with every thrust, Johnny’s tail whacks against the floor as he moans. The symphony of sounds the both of you are making is enough to get both Simon and Price rubbing their dicks through their pants. “Fuck bonnie.. good boy.. g-good bunny-fuck..” Soap mumbles, completely pussy drunk, chasing his pleasure with his fingers playing with your hard cock.

Your legs are quivering, your eyes rolling back as your arms give out, the only thing holding you up is Price’s hold on your ears. He can’t help but laugh at how fucked out and sensitive you are, already cumming around Johnny’s thick dick. Your cunt clenching around him tightly, causing his hips to stutter, his orgasm brought on by your own as his cum spurts inside you. Your eyes focus back in, your soul feels like its returned back to your body whilst you get wrapped up in Simon’s arms. He is just holding you softly as John grabs you and Johnny some water. “Just rest bun, me and John will have our fun soon enough..” He says, kissing the top of your head.

[theunholybastard]

Kinktober: October 25th - Food Play (Papa Emeritus II x TransMasc!Reader)

IM SORRRYYYYYYYY about the not on time updates ! I would be doing so much better at this if I didn't have the damn flu 😭🙏 The missing days WILL all come before November, just unfortunately late </3 Hang in there !!!

Tags: Established Relationship, Minimal AFAB Language Used, Food-Play, Nipple Sucking, Cunilingus, Blowjobs, Cum-Shot, 2nd Person POV

Secondo had something special planned tonight for your anniversary. You expected something big and extravagant, like going out to some ridiculously priced restaurant and having him fill you up on expensive wines and cheeses, like what he usually does for your date nights. But tonight, he insisted on something more subtle, intimate. You were thankful for that, as much as you loved your usual outings. You really weren't feeling like getting drunk in public and spilling wine on yet another one of your suits.

He had made you dinner at your house. You knew whatever he cooked was going to be better than any fancy restaurant he could've potentially taken you to. He was a God when it came to cooking. The table was set, the room was lit with candles, your favorite music was playing softly on a record, and the meal was still steaming as it was being placed on your plate by yours truly. There were multiple courses, each one more delicious than the last. You knew he was intent on stuffing you to the brim, but this isn't what you thought he meant. Not complaining though.

You were already getting full, but your taste buds were screaming at you to continue, both because it tasted divine and you wanted to please Secondo. Just when you were reaching for another helping of carbonara, Secondo put a hand over yours. "Don't fill up too much now, you must save room for dessert."

"Oh, there's an actual dessert? I just thought that was a euphemism for your cock." You quipped, taking a sip of your wine to cleanse your palette.

"That too," He laughed. "But there is an actual sweet treat prepared for you, dolcezza. Would you like it now?" As bountiful as the feast he prepared for you was, your stomach was begging you to get it over with before it explodes. You decided to trust your gut, literally. You nod, and he eagerly stands up to go get it. He places the small plate in front of you; tiramisu. A relatively easy dish to conjure up, so it's not like he pushed himself with this one, but still a classic, flavored with a dash of coffee liqueur just how he likes.

You usually liked to drizzle a soft chocolate sauce on top, and tonight he allowed you no exception, setting a bottle beside you. "Help yourself, amore mio." He offered. "I don't want to overdo it and ruin your dessert." You obliged, squeezing the bottle over it in a way you thought was gentle, but apparently not gentle enough. Chocolate sauce splattered all over the plate, and a little on your cheek, the bottle making an embarrassing fart sound doing so.

"You're supposed to shake the bottle first, amore." Secondo chuckled, holding back a particularly hearty laugh to not make you feel any more embarrassed.

"I know that now." You frown.

"Oh, my poor boy." Secondo cooed, approaching you with a twinkle in his eyes. He eyed the chocolate dripping down your cheek. "Let me get that for you." He purrs lowly, dipping his head down to slowly lick the sauce off your cheek. You shiver at the feeling, but just as the arousal shot through you, it was over, pulling away and returning to his seat. "Eat up, dear." He says innocently.

With your hand shaking, you pick up your fork, digging in and taking a small bite. It was delicious, the soft, spongey tenderness of the cake held a taste that was bold and bittersweet, mixed with a sweet creaminess. The alcohol gave it a different kind of warmth. But you could hardly focus on the taste, not with Secondo staring at you like you were his next meal. You have another bite, then another. You don't even get halfway though before you slam your fork on the table impatiently.

"Let me cut to the chase. Are you gonna fuck me or not?" You spit, the tension too much to handle. Secondo grins mischievously. "Is that what you want?" He quirks a brow. This dickhead knows what he's doing. "Well... then meet me in the bedroom. And bring the chocolate sauce." He winks suggestively, voice low and seductive, walking off. Another shiver went up your spine.

Impossibly quick, you shot up and rushed to the bedroom where he was, holding zero composure, stopping only to grab the chocolate sauce you almost forgot. Arriving at your destination, you realized he brought some things with him too. Whipped cream, peaches in a basket, the whole nine yards. Now I know why he wanted to dine alone. Who knows how long he must've been thinking of trying this shit, watching you eat at those fancy restaurants, spilling and making a mess of yourself must've gotten him all worked up.

You speedily unbutton your dress shirt, imperative to not stain yet another article of white clothing. Secondo has already unclothed, half hard cock resting on his thigh, twitching appreciatively the more you strip for him. "Why don't you get on the bed so I can worship you, mio amato?" Secondo sighs, stroking himself lazily, his length growing steadily. Of course you instantly plop down on the bed, legs spread and ready for him.

Normally, he would delve into your cunt as soon as he possibly could, but he held a cocky smirk, inching down painfully slowly. Just when you thought you'd finally feel his tongue on you, your eyes shut tight in suspense, you felt a cool dripping of some sort of creamy liquid on your lower bits. You open your eyes in confusion and could not believe the audacity of this man.

The fucking chocolate sauce.

He squirted chocolate sauce on your fucking clit.

Finally, his mouth is on you, pulling away the laugh that was bubbling in your throat and replacing it with a moan, licking you clean of the chocolate. Even after a three course meal, he ate you like he was starved, slurping and sucking like you were his life line. Your orgasm was already building up, limbs tightening and stomach in knots, a knot ready to come undone. It's like he was sucking the soul out of you.

You came, hard and rough, your body feeling heavy and boneless. Still, you needed more, just a little more. You needed him, in any way, in any hole. The frustration is unbearable. He lapped up your arousal, savoring the taste somehow more than you savored any of his dishes. When he came back up, you expected him to pull you in for a kiss like he always does, but he hesitated, pulling out a ripe peach from the basket at the bedside. "Bite into it." He commanded. "I want to taste your mouth in a state even sweeter."

You bit into the plump peach, juices dripping down the front of your chest unabashedly. He watches with wide, hungry eyes, licking his lips at the sinful sight. The moment you swallow, he's on you, knocking the rest of the poor peach to the ground. Such a shame, that was a damn good peach. His tongue fought yours violently, something that is usually classic foreplay for him, but this time you suspect it's just to get as much taste as possible. Still not a bother to you at all regardless.

He pulls away from the kiss, strings of saliva connecting your mouths from the passionate encounter. He dips his head down, laving the leftover juices that ran down your chest. He uses the opportunity from cleaning you up to take one of your nipples into his mouth, swirling over the sensitive bud, alternating between sucking and biting. You writhe underneath him, fingers digging into his biceps, fighting desperately to keep yourself grounded. His mouth works wonders everywhere.

You feel his cock throb against your thigh, and have a wicked idea. While he continues to work on your nipples, distracted, it doesn't take much force to push him off of you, flipping so now you're on top. He smiles, enjoying the change in dynamics, excited to see where you were going. "You like playing with your food?" You tease in a sing-songy voice, taking out the whipped cream. He knew where this was headed. "Now it's my turn."

You spray some in your mouth at first, just for shits and giggles, before spraying some on the tip of his dick, which stood tall and proud, ready for you. Secondo laughs, definitely tipsy from the wine, way more entertained by this than he should be. You dip down and lick it off, slow and sensual. That make him suck back his laughter real quick, a deep pleasurable sigh escaping his lips. He lets his head fall back on the headboard, relaxing. You swirl your tongue around, the cool sweetness of the cream mixed with the heaty, savory taste of his manhood intoxicating.

His mouth hung in a perfect 'O' shape, brows furrowed, the pleasure overwhelming. "Cazzo..." He mutters under his breath. You inhaled him deeper, hollowing your cheeks in order to take him all the way. It was when your hand came to play with his balls that he felt his own orgasm approaching rather quickly. "Ah-! Amore..." His voice faltered in warning, breathing picking up. You removed yourself from his cock, finishing him up with your hand furiously jerking him.

He whined in protest at the lack of your perfect, tight mouth, but he quickly finished, cum spurting from him and all over his hairy stomach, catching on his abs and pooling in his bellybutton. As he came down, he looked down at you, dazed and still fueld with desire. "I'll give you a proper fucking soon enough," he huffed exasperatedly. "O-once I recover..." You smiled and nodded, happy to bounce on his cock the second your sensitive hole stops throbbing.

He sighed and pulled you close, sweat dampened bodies intertwined. He leaned in to your ear. "Caro, can I ask you a question?" He muttered. You stirred slightly, humming to show your interest. "You know I would never complain about such a thing, but I was simply wondering... why didn't you swallow? You usually do." You snickered.

"I'm full."

-

[struckd0wn]

𝐃𝐚𝐲 𝟏: 𝐔𝐧𝐢𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦- 𝐆𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭

Simon has you propped up on his thigh, fully dressed in his uniform. You had expressed your interest in his tactical gear, so he decided to indulge you. His idea of indulgment was to torture you. Ghost leaned back on the couch, watching a show and completely ignoring you. He refused to touch you until you made yourself cum on his thigh.

You were desperate at this point, clawing at his bulletproof vest in hopes maybe he'd just do something. Your whining was music to his ears as he watched you struggle to get off with the lack of his attention. Eventually, Simon gave in, bouncing the leg you straddled, but playing it off as if it were an idle movement. This did help you out though, the vibration of his leg under you combined with your movement and the friction of his jeans against your throbbing sex were enough to make you finally cum, making a mess all over the lieutenant's legs.

Simon is silent as he watches you ride out you high before collapsing onto him, feeling his jeans soak with your wetness. "Right. I guess you deserve that treat then."