#hand over the fat German man

[fleshlikeplastic]

[konigsblog]

js a random thought but do you think König likes fat tits or plushy succulent thighs better?👀

Are you really going to make him decide? Seriously?!

Oh, König can appreciate both, that's for sure. He's completely and utterly obsessed with the sensation of fucking his large, hefty cock between your plush thighs, practically suffocating between your soft legs. He digs his bitten fingernails into your supple flesh, slobbering all over you like a filthy animal in heat. You're forced to deal with and endure König's perversity, listen to his greedy and pained cries for more as he hunches over your figure, heaving and growling out through blissfulness and delirium.

But, nothing compares to the satisfaction he earns from fucking your large breasts, rocking and grinding his heavy length between your warm titties while cursing himself out in German. He's a titty man through and through. He can't keep his grimey, grubby hands to himself during sex, wandering over your form and tugging at your perky and hard nipples while burying his painfully stiff cock inside your velvety, smooth walls. He'll stare at your cleavage during innocent and pure conversations, ignoring the way you ramble on about your newest interest, his eyes fixated on your chest.

And if you have your nipples pierced, prepare to have König's filthy, calloused hands on your body 24/7.

[sleep-0-deprived]

Threesome with male reader being spitroasted

Just some Halloween spit roasting thoughts with ghost and König~! ૮꒰⸝⸝> ̫ <⸝⸝꒱ა

WC:. 1.1k

This is just a short little rant and I couldn’t think of any better characters than these giants! @lazyenthusiastbear-blog <33

Thinking bout a small Halloween party at the base, just a few task force members nothing big but soon you find yourself sitting between The ghost and König whilst wearing some slutty vampire costume oh grabbed last minute from the nearest Halloween store, your chest practically exposed with you having in a pair of cheap fangs looking back between the two men seeing them both rock hard in their cargo pants letting you know just what they wanted.

You don’t even have time to get those plastic fangs out of your mouth before you have ghost in front of you jumping his crotch to your jaw while König works you from the back by slipping down your costume pants leaving your ass exposed to the both of them, König just anxiously grabbing your ass cheeks and pinching them extra tight before giving little smacks, not using hardly any force out of fear of not wanting to hurt you.

Ghost just pulling out his cock slapping you against your cheek almost egging you on while muttering words like “come on take what I give you [name]” while pushing his fat tip to your lip and making you make out with it before he pushes it inside your mouth, ghost will have you in the men’s dorms making you beg to suck him off while König rubs you soothingly from behind before prepping you up enough to get himself buried inside your rim, König being the gentle giant he is whispers out in a whiny tone “can I please enter you?~”

König fucking you like a bear laying on your back squishing you to the crappy bunk beneath making you gag and choke on Simon the whole time, swallowing down the salty pre come that Simon gave you while your stomach bulges and bloats from the little bulge König gives you making you feel like you’re being torn apart and impaled, rolling your eyes back with your fangs grazing ghosts cock. Making a slick mess of your face ruining your makeup and getting fake blood from your lips all over Simon’s cock but he couldn’t care less.

König holding your hips pulling you backwards instead of thrusting into you he lazily pulls you back and forth onto his cock with the occasional rock of his hips moaning on and on to ghost “es geht ihm so gut” in his native tongue, spitting words incoherently all drunk off the way your rim puckers around him and milks out load after load leaving come oozing down your thighs onto the army green sheets trying to shut you up so none of the other task force members walk in, specially not price.

Ghost holding your chin up looking down through his skull mask watching the copious amounts of spit coming from your ruined mouth, watching how you scrunch your nose up nice and tight when his seed shoots across your face sticking to your lashes while you hold your mouth open getting a generous amount on your tongue and fangs, not even bothering complaining about the lieutenant ruining your makeup, how could you when you’re too focused on König railing and plowing you from behind while one large hand holds your balls and palms them the whole time rearranging your guts.

König swapping places with ghost having you on your back with your throat bulging from the outline of the German man’s cock, your cheeks full like a chipmunk while ghost pulverizes your already gaping hole, König being gentle with your face barely rocking his hips back and forth while ghost lets out silent grunts like a animal in heat. Both their masks still on using you like their own boy-toy while ghost looks down whispering hazy degrading comments “one cock ain’t enough for you is it? What a Greedy little fucking boy we have here don’t we König”

ghost holding your hips half off the bunk angle ohh your hips upwards while he fucks you making sure every spot inside your ass gets assaulted by his cock, making you listen to how you squelch from the other man’s come, making sure you feel every little groove and ridge in his dick when he pulls out slowly and slams back inside you holding you on your back with your knees to your chest in a mating press nearly in salty tears when König finishes in your mouth making you gulp down the hot liquid while looking upwards at König, watching his eyes while he groans and ruffles your hair saying “that’s it, my Babyjunge is doing so good”

Their stamina seemingly endless when they rotate over and over at one point having both cocks nudging your mouth and tearing the corners of your mouth to fit their tips while you lay in your back dazed out weakly using one hand on each of their cocks jerking at their bases til Ghost comes first shooting all over your muscular chest getting on the V neck snapped opening of your vampire costume while König contributes to the sticky mess on your face only coating and caking the cum up more Turing you into a come dump for them.

By the end of the night you end up on your back with the whole bunk bed frame creaking about to crack and bend under the weight of the muscular men, your hole stuffed and gaping wide being double penetrated with your fangs covered in semen and spit laying on the bed next to you with König holding one thigh to the bed and Simon holding the other leaving your cock untouched while they fuck you. Using König’s past loads as lube for ghost to slide inside you and keep going making you a blubbering mess unable to form coherent sentences, just the occasional “m-ore~”

your whole body on fire and spasming and trembling coated in more loads than you’ve released, your cock soft and red like a fire hydrant with your balls having no more come to give, every orgasm pulled from you by now I’d dry and painful leaving you a shaking mess gripping the handles of the bed post, once finished with you they have you sandwiched between the two of them during the night after sneaking your wrecked body back into Simon’s private quarters, oh the wreck you’ll be in the next morning will be a site for them to enjoy.

When you do finally wake up you feel a burn between your cheeks and a sore throat, your mouth hurting from being torn leaving your lips cracked and your thighs dried stuck together from all the crusted come, and on top of all that you feel König’s cock hard again pressing to your thigh with ghost having morning wood behind you leaving you already knowing they were going again with you before you even made it to training.

[keravnous]

atop of cherry hill ; arthur shelby jr/fem!reader (18+, smut)

Thomas Shelby has had enough of Arthur's violent outbursts. Thus, he pays you to help the oldest Shelby brother with blowing off some steam. Or: Thomas "mistakes" you for a prostitute and Arthur pops your cherry.

word count: 12,1k

warnings: fem!reader, dubcon; implied but also not so-implied involuntary prostitution, (imagery of) blood and violence; unprotected sex (this man might not be real but stds surely are, so wrap it up kids), age gap (reader is in her 20s, arthur is in his mid to late 30s), power play and power dynamics, fingering, riding, backshots, dirty talk, name calling, slight bimbofication and dumbification - if you blink you'll miss it, corruption kink, loss of virginity/virgin kink, spit kink, spanking, rough sex, sir kink; late season one/early season two arthur, set somewhere between s1 and s2,, time is just a construct babes ; he's so pathetic and sad I love him; I tried to write Brummie but jfc I am just a small little German girlie alright I am so sorry; also grace is still in birmingham too?? bc i love her sm

this is so so so heavily inspired by foy vance's make it rain bc it just fits idk; also a big fat ty to my bud for keeping up with me live blogging my arthur thirst youre a gem bro; also why am I always so fucking late to everything, is this fandom still alive??

"Move."

"Mr Shelby, I-", you nearly stumble as Thomas drags you forward and you look up at him, dark hair framing his face, blue eyes shining sternly from the cavities of his skull-like and bone-pale face. You know him.

Well, not personally. But you have heard the stories - a multitude of them coloured in blood red and wailing agony - you have seen people clear tables in pubs for him and the streets for him. Something, no someone on your periphery moves, strolls over.

"She'll do", says the younger version of him approaching, moving the tooth pick in the corner of his mouth from one side to the other, "Lass got jus' wha'he fancies." He is walking towards you, slouching a little with his fists buried is pockets. Looking at you, he kisses his teeth, grins. "Oh, smile, sunshine. Tommy'll pay you nicely for this, y'got nuttin to loose."

"Get her inside, John", so that little prick is the youngest Shelby, then, "He'll be here, soon."

"What's got his knickers in a twist t'day, eh?"

"Sabini. Get her inside, and make sure she's--", Tommy eyes you up and down, the way you clutch your little embroidered handbag, "Nice and comfortable, right?"

John snorts, shrugs. "Right this way, mylady", he says, bowing mockingly.

The Garrison is warm, the air inside smells of malt and cigarette smoke. The pub is empty, except for a young blonde woman who stands behind the counter. She is currently polishing glasses, looks up as the door falls shut behind you. Relief washes over you.

You are not alone. There is another woman here. You will not be hurt. The woman gives you a quick once-over, and all hope flies straight out the window as she quickly unwraps her apron and drops it on the counter. "You're early", she says, to no one in particular, seemingly just to complain.

"Tell that to Tommy", John replies, pushes one door of the snug on your right side open, "Bring 'er some whiskey first and then clear the air, will ya?"

She mutters something to herself and turns around to the shelf behind her. "After you", John ushers you into the dimly lit snug.

You take a few steps forward, into the room. Unsure what to do, you just stand there, taking it all in. The room smells of cigars and men's perfume.

"Sit", John says, waves his hand aimlessly at the bench, seats padded with red velvet. Anxiety has the hairs on your body standing up, a cold rushing down your spine.

"I don't want to."

"Fine, suit yerself", he shrugs again, leans against the doorframe, "Y'know why you're here?"

You're not stupid. If the lawyer's office you had once worked at as a secretary back in London, had not been bombed out, you would have never returned to your hometown of Birmingham. Money is tight, with your gran being so ill and your father and grandfather being buried in Verdun. Your mother has left a long time ago.

You want to protest, to open your mouth and say that you are not a prostitute, - I am not like Lizzie Stark -, but the weight of five fucking hundred pounds in your bag drags your hands down, keeps your mouth shut. You really need the money. This much can easily get you through a few months, maybe even a full year.

Thus, when Thomas Shelby had stood on your doorstep, waving a thick wad of cash in front of your nose, and requesting your presence, you had no real choice but to accept.

"Yes, Mister Shelby", you say, voice small as you feel shame and anxiety washing over you in cold, sweaty waves.

John just nods and you want to ask Who will I be seeing today but something about his demeanour - the way he leans there, eyes cold and indifferent - tells you, that he wants to be here even less than you do.

Eventually, you do take a seat. The blonde woman brought some gin a while ago, which you neither touched nor drank, and you carefully sink onto the table next to it. She left right after putting the bottle and two glasses down, shutting the pub's door behind her. Minutes go by. A minute becomes ten, until an hour passes and the sun starts to set slowly. An hour grows into an hour and ten minutes, until -

There's commotion outside. The thundering of a motor carriage. People yelling. Steps approaching and then the front door being swung open, with such force that it rattles against the wall. John moves away from the snug's door just in time, before it too gets forcefully yanked open, revealing a man with neatly trimmed auburn hair and an equally as trimmed moustache. His face is ragged and hard with rage as he enters the room, a lit cigarette dangling from his lips. He is trailed by Thomas, who immediately looks at you.

The new arrival does not bother himself with your presence, only wipes away at his forehead, which you only now notice is bleeding. A cut, right underneath his hairline, not too deep but deep enough to bleed. Profusely.

"That fuckin' rat", he bellows loudly, in such a deep baritone that his voice vibrates inside your chest. He sounds rough around the edges, his accent swirling along his tongue thickly with his throat all coarse, like something constantly pains him. Like that pain edged itself onto his voice, broken it up and now pushes it out all gravelly. "Y' should've let me kill him, Tommy, that's what ya fuckin' should've let me done", he throws his grey coat onto a chair, takes a drag from his cigarette and then slams his fist onto his palm, hard and loud, as if trying to prove a point, "He ain't gonna keep his fuckin' gob shut and then what, eh? Let me deal with him now. Let me cut his fuckin' tongue out, that fat bastard -"

Thomas says nothing, just stands there smoking his cigarette, while the other man continues enraging himself, throwing profanities around. "Tomorrow, Arthur. Tomorrow, I will let you deal with him", he eventually says, pats the man - Arthur - on the back, "Today, I want you to enjoy yourself for once, eh?"

Arthur. You have heard of him, too: the elder Shelby sibling - a vicious and brutal thug, cruel and pitiless, loyal to the family and the game. You once heard he had maimed someone, strolling down Birmingham main road after, drenched in blood looking like he bathed in it. Another time you heard he had beat someone to a pulp so badly, his brains and innards flew everywhere in a mushy mousse. Just a few days ago you heard that he tore someone's throat out with his teeth in a bar tussle.

You shudder. No. Not him. Anyone, anyone with a gentler reputation. You already expect him to lash out, explode like a fucking grenade in an instant and blow this place up with yelling and flying fists but --

But for now, he just looks at his younger brother, unmoving and back still turned towards you. "Brought you a gift", Thomas' mouth quips up in the smallest of smiles before his gaze drops to you.

And you just stand there, in your pretty dress, unsure of what to do with your hands as Arthur turns around slowly. His gaze lands on your frame. If he thinks of something, anything he masks it, face an iron mask of anger.

"Who's that?", he asks, plainly, as if he is missing something important here.

John chuckles and Thomas says, without batting an eye: "A whore."

"You got me a girl?", Arthur states flatly, blinks at you and you shift uneasily underneath his piercing gaze. And then, after no one says anything for a heartbeat or two: "What? D'ya think I'm fuckin' fifteen, Tommy?"

"Jus' thought ya could yer dick wet", John says, moves his tooth pick. Left to right. And back.

"Watch yourself, you little shite", Arthur hisses and John lifts his hands, laughs quietly - but backs off just a little, just to be sure.

"John, wait outside", Thomas' voice sounds exhausted, cold and John just looks at him for a moment, before tipping his cap towards you with a grin, making a real show out of exiting the snug and the pub slowly. Before the door shuts, Thomas is already approaching Arthur, placing a firm hand on his shoulder in pulls him in a huddle as he talks lowly. You try to make out what they are saying, but what you can catch sounds - apart from your name - like gibberish to you. That is, until you realize that they are talking in a whole different language.

While Thomas holds Arthur close, murmuring something, his gaze flickers back and forth between you and his older brother. Soon after Thomas leaves, pats his brother on the shoulder without offering you as much as one last word, one last look before he closes the door behind himself.

You are alone with Arthur now - Thomas Shelby's most powerful, most violent tool. The room suddenly feels too small, like the walls are closing in, suffocating you.

Arthur turns around to you once more. You say nothing and neither does he, just looks at you, let's his gaze wander over your form with hands buried in his pockets. The cigarette still dangles from the corner of his mouth, smoke curling and dissipating into the air. Neither of you says a word for a while; you just stand there, like that little robin that you observed in your backyard yesterday. It froze, as the stray cat sneaked closer and ever closer. As if it truly considered, not moving would make the cat believe it was either already dead or just plainly imagination, conjured by hunger. As if that would stop the cat from burying its claws into it, its sharp teeth to tear it apart and feed from its flesh.

You shift uncomfortably. A man like him, any man like the Shelby men for that matter, is a dangerous man. An image flashes before your inner eye - like a premonition, like a warning: you, battered and bruised, blood tickling from your nose as you stumble back home, dress torn and hairdo ripped apart with a few strands missing.

"You're clean, right love?", his gravelly voice pulls you from your thoughts. He looks at you, straight into your eyes and goosebumps erupt on your skin, while he remains where he stands. The question makes your cheeks heat up and you would really really love to just leave - but his gaze keeps you glued to the spot, piercing blue eyes boring deep into your soul.

"Yes, Sir", you answer dutifully, nodding, ignoring the shame heating up your face. One of his hands comes up, rubs his chin like he is thinking real hard.

"How'd that be?"

"Excuse me?"

"How's a pretty girl like ya clean?"

Heat rises on your cheeks, your eyes water. "I--", your voice breaks, "I am not-"

"Not clean, eh?", he says just as you usher out: "A prostitute."

Now, his face breaks. Brows shooting up, blinks rapidly, irritated. "'Scuse me?"

You swallow. Shit. Now he is gonna send you away, and Thomas will come for his money. You can't have that - you need that money.

"I just do hand-stuff, normally", you say, surprised at how easily the lie slips over your lips, fills the air in a steady tone.

"That's a prostitute in my book, sweetheart", he answers cooly, shrugs, and moves towards the bottle of gin, "Y'wan'a drink?"

Your hands shake, and he cannot - should not - see that and thus, you shake your head.

He mutters something inaudible, as he pours himself a glass, voice a low rumble. You decide it is best not to inquire. Not to move. You remain standing, as he pours himself another glass and downs it quickly just like the other, shoulders visibly relaxing, before sitting down on the red padded bench, throwing his half-smoked cigarette into your empty glass. Arthur looks at you, expression unreadable. "C'mere", he eventually says, the slightest bit annoyed and you follow hastily - muttering Yes, Sir that has the corners of his mouth quipping up in a dirty grin - placing your bag next to the bottle onto the table, before approaching him.

Arthur's legs are spread, the expensive wool of his trousers wrapping snugly around lanky but muscular thighs. You take him in for a second, the auburn nearly ginger hair gelled back, forehead stained by blood, his face hard and unmoving, the specks of blood scattered on his nice and expensive looking grey suit. You step closer and to your surprise he extends a calloused and freckled hand, that you gently place yours into - soft and fragile in comparison - and he takes it, helps you onto his lap. Your body is stiff with anxiety and you hope, pray, that he does not notice.

The first thing you become aware of, among the strange but welcome sensation of being so so close to another human being - to a man, is his scent. He smells surprisingly nice. Wooden and of foreign spices, rich and heavy. Like a bonfire. Like a twelve-hour shift at the coal factories. Still expensive, but as if the perfume cannot fully cover, hide his heritage as a working-class man. He smells of cigarettes and liquor and blood and money. The scent wraps you in, a cloud of luxurious silk and crackling fire wood in a heath, makes you ease into his lap.

You wonder if Arthur can smell the flowery toilet water you put on earlier. You bought it before the war, back in London. It is the last proper thing you own.

His hand forsakes yours, drops down to your thigh, where your dress has already ridden up your legs. His skin is warm on yours and then you feel it, like your sense coming back alive, jolting awake under a thick haze of fear: His hardening bulge pressing against your cunt, right between your legs. Huge and warm, already rock hard.

Your mouth falls agape slightly, cheeks turning a pretty shade of red in an instant. He chuckles, a deep and rumbling sound. You do not dare to look at him, keeping your eyes trained on the golden chain, that secures the watch in his waist coat. It gleams prettily in the warm and dim light of the petrol lamps, like molten sunshine.

"I really hope ya haven't planning on only givin' me yer hands tonight, sweetheart", he keeps his gaze trained on your thighs, watches how his hands rest on them, large and slender fingers on your comparably small legs, thumbs caressing the lace hem of your stockings.

You do not know what you have planned. You had no plans. You accepted an offer and only now come to realization what following through with the service required really means. You have no clue how any of this works: sex, prostitution, pleasuring a man. But you know what they all want in the end. And you are certain he will be mad, if you do not give him what he desires.

"Of course not, Sir", you say quietly, thinking about the money in your bag. You got this. You simply have to.

"Ya just a very prim 'n proper young lady, aren't ya?", he hums. You hear the clasps of your garters snapping open and they fall to the sides, allowing him to pull your stockings down down down to your knees. His hands are rough on your soft skin and the touch is foreign, but it electrifies you nonetheless, has you looking up from his watch chains.

Arthur meets your gaze - has been watching your shy, beautiful face the whole time while being visibly amused by your modesty - blue eyes gleaming in the golden hue of the lights.

There is a profound sadness in his eyes. It goes deep, deeper than you dare to look. His features are harsh and unmoving, his eyes hard but their gaze is surprisingly soft; a warm summer's day lake hiding behind the Atlantic storm. You wonder who hurt him. Who left him. Who beat him, broke his heart, chewed it up and spat it back out. You wonder if what happened to him was a tragedy or just the war.

You want to touch it, wipe the sadness away. The thought gives you whiplash with the way it sneaks up on you, hits you across the back of your head and pushes itself to your front-lobe violently. He is beautiful. In his own ragged, brash way - with freckles dusted over his nose and cheeks, some of them gotten lost on his jaw as well, high cheekbones and plush, worrisome tilted lips.

Your body betrays you as your thumb dances over the corner of his mouth and then you lean forward, gently put your lips onto his. It takes him a moment, like he is surprised by the gentleness of it all, before he kisses you back. And does he kiss you. Soft at first, he grows hungry quickly, desperately licks into your mouth and grabs your jaw, holds your head in place as he pushes his tongue against yours and your lower back flush against the edge of the table as he latches onto you. You have kissed men before, drunken at the fair or sober in back alleys, but no other man has ever kissed you like he does now. He is all force and passion and it disarms you, makes you soft and responsive in his hold.

You sling your arms around his neck, hands clutching at his jacket, as he leans into you. Arthur's hands are everywhere, roaming over your thighs, your hips, your back as he feels you up, pulls you closer. You feel like a ragdoll in his arms, being thrown around for his pleasure and your belly tingles traitorously. Arthur pants against your lips, drags his tongue along your lower lip before his teeth gently nip at it.

Not wanting to lose all control and staying close to him - his warmth, the friction of his lean, strong body against yours - you press yourself back against him, and he sinks into the velvet cushion, groans into your mouth as you roll your hips into his dick. Arthur parts his lips from yours, licks the corner of your mouth hungrily as you draw in breaths hectically, rolling your hips once more.

And then you feel it. You are so fucking wet. It seeps through your underwear already, and your body feels like it's on fire, tingles all over. Your upper lip stings from his assault, with the way his moustache has rubbed against your soft skin there and your bottom lip is sore from him pulling and sucking at it. Then, something happens within you; something that you have never felt with such intensity. It starts with a sharp electric tingle in your belly, that shoots right between your thighs, has your loins practically catching fucking fire. It feels like your whole body lights up - so heavily that your fucking brain shuts off, short-circuits.

Suddenly, you want him to be closer - no, you need him to be closer. Without thinking, without debating it with yourself first, without any form of making sense or weighing the consequences of your actions your hands run over his muscular chest, feeling him up while you lean in, pressing hot, wet kisses to his neck.

He feels nice beneath your hands, firm and warm and you wrap your arms around his neck as you dive in again, his eyes already trailing your lips, before you are locking them with his. You steal the air from his lungs as you lick into his mouth, rubbing your body against his, tits pressed to his chest, hips rolling into his dick until you pant into the kiss so heavily that he breaks from you, licks his lips. Instead of stopping to touch him, your hands trail down the lapels of his jacket, slipping underneath it, thumbs trailing the muscles of his stomach.

"Sweetheart", he says lowly, voice trailing off, eyelids fluttering. He has not been touched like this in a long, long time. And he feels like it is going to drive him insane, if he does not stop you soon. Your tender, soft fingers - delicate in comparison to his - keep brushing over his expensive suit, cradling his neck, caressing his shaved head right behind his ears, grabbing his face. It feels too gentle and he fears that his heart is going to explode from it. It's too much - too much for someone like him, someone who belongs nowhere, to no one, who is never cared for. Someone who is as lonely as he is. It has his blood boiling.

Grabbing your hands and pulling them off him, he looks at you - gaze sharp, hard; the sad sea icy. "Y' better get to it, now."

His words, cutting and sharp as shrapnel, yank you out of a cotton-candy stasis, your brain all mushy and hard to reach, hard to use. "Yeah, sure", you breathe, nodding, "Yeah, 'f course."

You swallow, as your hands move - shaking, fluttering nervously and a little aimlessly in the beginning - to get his wool jacket of first. He does not make it harder for you as it already is, but also does not help you much, only throws his jacket to the side carelessly once it comes off. Keeps his eyes trained on your face, studying your every move, on the lookout for any and every single twitch of your facial muscles like a fucking deadly desert predator.

And there it is, comes into vision: the predators, well - weapon. It sits silently, unmoving, in a holster beneath his shoulder. Its silvery handle peeking out towards you mockingly.

His gun.

You swallow. Visibly.

Arthur makes a guttural sound. "That ol' thing's scarin' ya, sweetheart?", he sounds amused almost, reaches for it and you freeze. "I ain't gonna hurt ya, relax", he takes it out of the holster, places it onto the table, where it clinks as it connects with the wood, before he adds with a playful wink, "At least not like tha'."

Unable to control, to stop yourself, you still peak over your shoulder, assessing where it lays. Just in case. Mustering the revolver, you --

A hand grabs your chin, surprisingly gentle, and your face is slowly turned towards back to then man, whose lap you are currently sitting in. Like the gun wasn't already enough to shake the foundation of your world, he now looks at you, coos quietly. "Aren't ya a panicky lil' bird", his hand caresses your cheek and you seriously do not know who he is anymore, with his sad but cold eyes, the dried blood on his forehead, the loaded gun on the table and his loving touches, "Relax, eh? Nothing's gonna happen, as long as I'm 'ere." And as if he is trying to prove this point - maybe even to himself - he straightens up a little, sits back up, the motion pulling you deeper into his lap, with one of his large, slender hands running up your back slowly, steadying you. Goosebumps erupt on your skin. "Yes, Sir", you say, voice small and it does not even sound convincing to yourself.

"Jus' forget about the gun and make me feel good, love", he whispers and grabs you by the hips, pushes them down to meet his. You feel his hard dick pressing against your clothed cunt again and that is enough. The fire returns to your loins, so rapidly it knocks the air out of your lungs. And your body stops belonging to you, as all reason gets washed from your head, leaves you a little dizzy with lust.

The red velvet of the bench is soft beneath your knees as you put your weight onto them and roll your hips. You immediately gasp, feeling his boner pressing against your cunt hard, its heat seeping through the fabric. This is different than your pillow. Better. You roll your hips once more, with more intent this time, grinding yourself down on his dick. And Arthur hums, a low and guttural but pleased sound.

You know, he has told you to get a move on but you cannot keep yourself from running your hands over his arms, up up up, feeling the muscular, veiny arms beneath your palms while you rut down on his cock, small whines and desperate gasps erupting from your throat. You struggle with his holster a bit and he does not seem to bother to help you anymore, his hands running up and down your thighs, to the curve of your ass. While you tug at the leather straps helplessly, gasping with each time your pussy brushes his cock, he looks over your shoulder, evidently distracted. "Your arse feels fuckin' nice, love", he says, hands gliding up your legs and over your girdle skirt, underneath your dress until they reach your butt and squeeze.

Pleasure shoots through your loins and you rut into him - hearing his breaths going ragged - as he grabs a fistful of your ass and deepens the movement of your hips, while you toss his holster on the bench, shrugging his waistcoat off. "Ever been fucked back there?", he husks, middle fingers dancing along the crack of your butt while he looks up at you through his auburn lashes and God Almighty, do you blush. Your cheeks burn with Red Red Red spreading across them, heat rising in your cheeks as well as your chest as you think about it - you on your knees, finger buried deep in expensive Egyptian linen sheets as he fills both your holes with his dick and his fingers. You shake your head shyly, lips slightly parted.

And Arthur's gaze drops down to them before he decides he has not had enough of you yet, leans it, locks his lips with yours again, groans into your mouth as you start to loosen his tie and unbutton the first few buttons of his shirt right after. You can see pale skin peeking out from there, dotted with freckles as many as there must be stars under the moon. "Next time", he murmurs to himself against your lips, throws his tie to the side where it slides of the bench and to the ground, "Next time I'll have ya back there." His arm wraps around your waist and pulls you even closer, your lower belly flush against his.

And that is when Arthur feels it. A dampness, that presses itself onto his cock, different from the small patch of precum he has already blown into his own undergarments. He whistles wolfishly, lifts you up a little.

There it is. A damp patch on his fucking 300 pounds suit, right where his cock strains against the fabric, the outline visible through the darkened wool. "Fuck me", he breathes, looks up at you, eyelids a little heavy, "'S got ya that hot already, love?"

You blink down to the damp patch, feeling your own wetness between your legs. "Oh God, I am s-so sorry", you stammer, knowing he will have to bring this to the cleaners if he isn't planning on carrying your scent with him for a least a few weeks. He will snap. You have heard the stories, he will-

"Sorry?", he echoes, a playful edge to his voice and it surprises, takes you aback, has you staring at him in disbelieve. "Y-your suit, I am terribly sorry I ruined it, Sir", you try again, voice small while you think about the revolver laying behind you, a reminder of his wrath.

"Fuck the suit", Arthur barks out a laugh, "And fuck that dress."

With that, his hands leave your hips and grab the button line at your chest, and riiip at the fabric. The buttons come flying, ricocheting of the wall and the floor noisily, the soft fabric tearing easily. You gasp, a little surprised and a little in grief. This was your favourite dress. A reminder of better times. You watch in both, shock and anticipation that has the hairs on your body standing up, as he peels the soft cotton off you, leaves you in only your girdle skirt. He acknowledges the lack of a proper undergarments with a barely noticeable grin, runs his gaze over your body. You have a nice pair of tits and a pretty waist, but there is something else he wants first and he tables the thought to mark you up and litter your soft skin with bruises for later.

"Imma buy ya a new one, love, don'tcha go soft on me now", he discards the fabric to the ground, places one hand on the small of your back and pulls you close, your naked tits pressing against his expensive button down. Your temple sinks on his shoulder, eyes fluttering and lips brushing over his neck, tasting his perfume and his sweat. He radiates heat, smells of lust as he looks at you through hooded, dark eyes. "I promise, eh? I'll get ya s'mthing prettier", and you ease into his touch, as he tugs at the girdle - your favourite, a blush pink with pretty lacing at the sides - but he just carelessly shoves it up up up and over your waist instead of untying it properly. His fingers brush over your panties, right where they meet your skin at your hipbones. "Add those to the list", you feel your skin sting as he pulls at them, impatiently and abruptly, tears at the fine satin and rips them clean off.

And Jesus Fucking Christ, he thinks he might smell your arousal right now - thickly sweet, the scent wrapping him in. Arthur yanks your legs apart by spreading his own further, and you gasp, as your knees press snugly against his thighs, cool air hitting your wet cunt. His hands run up your legs and one of them grabs your hips, keeps you steady as the other one brushes over your pubic bone before dipping between your legs. His hand presses against your pussy flatly as he practically grabs your cunt, feels your slick, and runs his palm through it. Your hips buck and you groan, a firework of arousal shooting through your loins.

Then, his fingers spread, two of them running through your folds, back and forth assessing your wetness, and feeling your cunt up. "'S a real pretty pussy ya got 'ere", Arthur looks up from watching his hand vanishing between your legs, lewd sounds of your slick already filling the air. All you can do, the sole response you can muster, is a looong appreciative whine, that gets stuck in your throat as his middle finger presses against your hole cooly.

Breath hitching in your throat, and you release a mangled sound as Arthur pushes his finger in recklessly. The dull burn has your muscles tensing up, your surprise over the sudden intrusion not helping as you clench around him, blocking him from sinking his finger into you fully. Arthur goes stiff as you furrow your brows, hands flying to his wrist, grabbing it in panic while you jolt up in his lap. A pathetic little noise slips over your lips, something that sounds like a broken, small plea.

"Fuck, so that's what he meant", Arthur blinks, stares down at where his finger barely sunk into you, with your hole clutching tightly around him. His palm shines wetly with your juices.

You whine, chest heaving, hands grabbing his biceps. "P-please", your voice sounds high-pitched and oddly foreign in your own ears. He can feel the way your hole nearly cuts of the blood flow in his finger, with how tightly it sits around him and he recognizes the tensity immediately. He has felt it time and time again and his blood sings with it, his cock giving an excited twitch in his pants.

"You ain't never been a prostitute, eh?", he looks up at you, eyes suddenly dark like the stormy sea at night. You can only shake your head, the intrusion of his hefty finger and the dull pain of your muscle being stretched by it are too much already, has your head swimming and heart racing. And it's not even fully in yet. "I fuckin' knew it", he rumbles, voice victorious and dark.

The tone of his voice sends shivers down your spine and arms. He does not seem to mind - rather, it seems to get him going, and his reaction makes you feel light-headed.

This is not how you imagined your first time to be like. You wanted it to be soft and slow, ideally on your wedding night, in a bed with a gentle man with soft hands and a respectable career. In the dark of the night, with candles burning, two bodies carefully and slowly, lovingly exploring each other. You did not think it would happen in a pub, of all places, on a late Thursday afternoon with someone who seems to have taken a sport in fucking virgins.

Realization hits you like a train. This is going to be your first time. This man, this violent animal, will be the one taking your innocence.

Arthur watches you intently, kisses his teeth. "I'll make it nice f'ya", he says like he can read your thoughts, voice sounding far away and strangely, you believe him. Believe his soft gaze, his hand that rubs a soothing circle onto your lower back.

"Will it hurt?", you whisper, barely audible. You have heard it does. Some of your friends were bleeding after.

That's when his gaze grows warm, with the darkness behind it still lingering but you barely register it as he is shaking his head - far too busy in wanting to trust him to notice the way his lips tilt up, eyes gleaming with perverse anticipation. He hopes his throbbing cock does not betray him. Oh, how much he will enjoy taking you apart, how much he loves seeing innocent, inexperienced women going dumb on his dick, seeing their pretty faces contort in ecstasy once he rips their maidenhead. Without doubt you will look pretty, too - beautiful even. Silently, he thanks Tommy. Look what the cat dragged in.

"It won't", he says, and there is such an earnest tenderness to his voice, that it shocks him just as much as it shocks you. Releasing a deep breath you did not know you were holding in the first place; you nod.

"Let go off me hand", and you do, grabbing his shoulders instead, as his other hand moves between your legs as well before his pointer and middle finger gently brush against your clit. The feeling that errupts in your belly is heavenly.

"Oh", you make quietly, voice a little high, as he starts to rub soft big circles over it, gently nudging it.

"See? It'll feel nice, love", and you feel it, too. Your muscles unclenching as pleasure shoots through your abdomen, your hole fluttering open after he works your clit for a while, taking his finger in willingly. You barely notice, how it glides in deeper and deeper, the stretch losing all its pain, while you moan and gasp, watching how his hand works your clit.

You sink against his hand hastily, wanting more, whining as the pad of his finger knocks against your walls and your hips stutter.

"Sh, sh, sh", Arthur tuts, his hand comes free from your clit, brushing free strands of hair from your face and behind your ear in one fluid motion, before cupping the nape of your neck, "Slowly now, love. I wan' you nice and loose, before I wreck you."

Nodding, you try your best to relax your muscles once more as he starts to move his finger slowly again, pressing it in fully. You gasp, suddenly feeling the cold gold of his ring resting against your hole. There's little room inside of you now and he gives you gives a minute or two to let you get used to the feeling, before he carefully bends his finger, rubs along your hot spongy walls. "Feel that?", he says and you do. The tingling in your stomach rises, sends bolts of pleasure through your belly. You moan, looking down where his finger vanishes between your legs.

"Yeah", you breathe, lips agape. "'S good?", he asks, genuinely curious and it sends your head spinning.

You nod, hole already fluttering around his finger and he starts to move it slowly, pulling it back and forth, until he can fuck you with it easily. He retrieves it fully, leaves you mewling unhappily, before he prods against your hole with two fingers instead. "There ya go, girl, nice 'n steady", he adds pressure against the tight ring once more and you willingly spread your legs a little, the velvet burning on your knees as they glide over it, parting your thighs to make more room for him. Arthur pushes his digits in, and you moan sweetly, the stretch pleasant and not as hurtful as you would have expected.

And Arthur starts to move slowly, drags the pads of his fingers along your walls, slowly oh so slowly fucks you open with them. He takes his time, spreading his fingers apart whenever your moans sound too sweet and he wants you to squirm more, remind you for whose pleasure you are here until even that does not seem to bother you anymore and your hips roll against his hand eagerly. He is sure, if he were to put his fingers on your clit again you would combust on the spot and as much as he would like to feel you cum, really feel that tight little hole clench and cream and make it his appetizer, he would  much rather feel you coming on his cock.

He cannot believe he is going to break your flower, soil it. He does not want to wait longer, cannot push himself further, needs it now. "Ya feelin' ready now, sweetheart?", like he will give a fuck.

Luckily for him, you nod, whining as he carefully pulls his fingers from you. No need to hurt you, yet. "'S my good girl, just breathe", and you mewl, as you feel your hole clenching around nothing, "I'll fill ya up nicely, don't fret." You suddenly feel very very empty and the urge to be filled up, to be stuffed by his cock and cum makes you go a little drunk with it, hands beating his to the fly of his pants.

Making quick work of the buttons you pull his trousers and undergarments down as much as possible, just enough to get his cock out - your mouth first waters and then goes powder dry in an instant. His dick slaps against his belly, long and girthy and cut with a prominent vein on the bottom, head an angry red and glistening with precum. It sits there, between a neatly trimmed bush of auburn hair and it is so so huge.

You open your mouth, struggling to find the words. "I-it won't fit", you stammer.

"'F course it will", he closes his hand around the thick base, and guides it between your legs, the tip nudging your clit and you gasp, "Don'tcha hurt ya pretty lil' head 'bout that." Arthur grabs your hips with one hand, holds you steady and up as he runs his cock along your folds, slicks it up with your juices, before pressing the thick head against your fluttering hole. His dick is unbearably hot against your pussy, and you whine, biting your lip.

"Just the tip, love, don't worry", he mumbles, lips pressed against your cheek, peppering the soft skin with kisses, stache tickling and then he presses his cock inside of you.

The thick head of his dick spreads your folds apart and then your hole stretches around it. It is so so much thicker and harder than his fingers, so much warmer and your hole clenches as he keeps pushing. The pain is dull and your eyes tear up. "There ya go", he nuzzles the tip of his nose against your cheek, whispers sweet nothings into your ear. There's one last stretch and then you feel the whole tip of his dick inside of you, your walls so snug around it you, you would be able to describe what it looks like just from feeling it inside of you.

"How's it feel?", he rasps, having a hard time containing himself. You are hot and wet around his tip and he really really wants to just push inside in one fluid motion and fuck you until your bleed and are unable to walk. To ruin you. Until there is nothing left on your pretty, little mind but him. But he knows better, knows that he will have to get you there slowly and steadily, so that you will come crawling back on all fours willingly. Forever.

"Ngh", you make, brows furrowed in concentration as you grab his shirt, steadying yourself. You had hoped, he would give you a minute longer to adjust, with your cunt clenching and stuttering around it, but he does not - instead he just keeps inching in. You whine, hand pushing against his shoulder. "H-hurts", your voice sounding pressed, "T-too fast, please, Sir."

A low chuckle escapes from his throat. "Love, that ain't me", he cups your cheek with one hand, looks at you. And Jesus fucking Christ, what a sight you are - pupils blown wide, eyes darkened and wet with tears. "You're jus' so fuckin' tight, you suck me in, sweetheart", and he really can't help himself but to marvel at how that feels. He can feel how your pussy protests the intrusion, tries to push him out, but instead it just makes your hole tighter, pulling him in.

"'S too much", and he nearly takes real pity in youas he leans in, and locks his lips with yours, while his hand forsakes your face and dives between your legs, rubbing wide circles over your clit.

Arthur lets gravity and your hungry pussy handle the rest, rubs your clit through every little millimetre that you sink down on his cock until he feels your muscles relaxing around him, swallowing him up.

That's when Arthur finally bottoms out, grabs you by the hips and seats you onto his cock fully, hisses just as a sweet, surprised moan escapes your lips.

"Yeah, that's fuckin' nice, ennit love?", he rasps, holds your hips steady as they quiver and shake on his cock. The stretch is delicious and so is the pain as he fills you up fully, thick base pushing your pussy apart like the heft of a sword.

"Uh-huh", you make dumbly, watching how your naked body is split on his cock, thighs rubbing along the thick wool of his dress pants.

"What a nice fuckin' tight snatch ya have, sweetheart", he groans, eyebrows furrowed together as he relishes in the feeling of your hole swallowing him whole, squeezing his cock.

"'ere, feel it", he grabs one of your hands and shoves between your legs, where your bodies are cojoined and his cock stretches your tight hole. He guides two fingers to the hot and thick base of his dick and you gasp, as you feel both: your wetness on him and the way he stretches the small ring of your muscles, the way you close around him snugly. "Wanna feel how I fuck ya?", he husks, and does not wait for an answer, pulls out of you just a little, only to push back in right after. You can feel the friction of his dick entering you, wetness pooling around the rim of your cunt as he forces himself inside. The sound that leaves your throat is wild, unbothered, high-pitched.

Your mouth is quicker than your brain, as all shame washes from you. "You feel so good", you breathe, and newly found confidence gets a hold of you, encourages you to lift your hips, before sinking back down. The burn of him stretching, moving inside of you, slowly subsides, gets replaced by feeling utterly full. You start to move in his lap, still a little unsure if you are doing it right, as you move your hips up and down. Small, desperate moans escape your mouth as you start to bounce on his dick slowly, hands on his chest. "There ya go", his hands rest on your waist, thumbs gently rubbing circles over your ribcage.

You take your time, hands clutching at his shirt and steadying themselves on his muscular, lean chest as you try to find your own rhythm. The movement of your hips is rigid at first, as you roll them down and Arthur really, really has to take deep breaths and not get annoyed because he knows, that this is ironically the best part of it all - when they do not know what to do, all helpless and cunts tight, whimpering with the overwhelming feeling of it all - and he does want to enjoy it, too. He watches you, angles his elbows on the backrest of the bench, let's you handle yourself first. He considers having another drink as you straighten your back and roll your hips just right for the very first time, a sweet sweet moan escaping your lips and he nearly bites his lip to hold his own back down because that - Jesus fucking Christ, that felt good.

You seem surprised, but he can also see how it makes you more confident, repeating the same movement your hips just made and another whine slips past your lips. Part of him grieves that you found it so quickly, part of him is intrigued what else lies buried inside of you and Arthur takes a deep breath, nods.

"Keep goin', love", he encourages you and you look at him, blushing, nodding. Your rhythm is slow and steady and you feel it becoming more and more pleasurable with every single time you thrust yourself down onto him, your muscles unclenching and letting his cock in deeper. There is warmth spreading inside of your body and you suddenly feel so so good, that you speed up all by yourself, something that his moaning quietly and --

It feels like your pussy is trying to push him out once more, but this time it is different, less forceful and much more of a desperate attempt to be closer closer closer to the delicious friction of his pubes rubbing along your clit, his dick slipping in and out of you. And then you feel wetness gushing from your cunt.

You gasp loudly, lips shaped in a perfect little O, a hand flying to your mouth. And Arthur laughs, a bellowing and rude sound that gets swallowed up by a lewd moan, that rasps darkly in his throat. "Yeah, 's my girl", his eyes twinkle as he looks you straight in the eye, "My cock makes ya feel real good, eh? "

The shame is back as it burns on your cheeks as you nod nod nod, lifting your hips once more to sink down onto him. It's so so easy this time with you being wetter than before, and you hum gleefully at the sensation, immediately picking up a quicker rhythm.

It all feels so heavenly: sinking down onto him, your lower body rubbing along his, clit being nudged ever so gently by his pubes, his hands on your body. Eventually, he lets them travel a bit when he deems you ready for it, cups your tit and rolls your nipple with his thumb. "'Y got such nice tits, love", and he really seems to marvel at the sight, while pleasure ping-pongs through your body at the touch. You feel like you could do this forever, sit on his cock, and ride him to feel this good just once more, but your body strains soon, legs growing heavy and your hips start to burn from the steady movement.

Arthur can feel you stuttering, your hips growing heavy but he is nowhere near coming and he really cannot have you stopping now, so he decides to play it nice. "Need help, love?", and you whine so prettily that it sweeps the rug underneath him, his hands leaving your tits, dancing over your body and grabbing your ass instead, lifting you up before sinking you back down.

Soon, the small snug is filled with lewd noises: skin hitting skin, the obscene squelching of your cunt as Arthur plunges his cock into you, sweet sweet gasps falling from your mouth, mingling with his groans and heavy panting. Arthur angles your hips on his dick - as if he had done this a hundred times with you before - guides you up and down up and down aiding you with your own already fast rhythm. Your legs and hips strain from being spread on his lap, from working in overtime as you ride him but the way he feels inside of you drowns the painful pull of your muscles and strings out, leaves you wanting for more.

And Arthur - oh, Arthur feels everything, all at once. Hears his own blood thundering in his ears, smells your perfume mingling with the scent of your arousal, thickly sweet and heavy, and his chin churns, teeth grinding like he just a fat fucking line of coke. Arthur feels it all - the tremor his pulse sends through his body, the way your pussy grips his cock, the whiskey rushing through his veins, his chest fluttering. There's just as much adrenaline rushing through his body as there is when he kills a man - it's all the same to him, really - and he feels like he is going to pass out from it.

The desperate, high-pitched moans that fall from your lips have him reeling on the edge, spurring him on while his fingers dig deep into your hips.

A part of him, somewhere buried deep inside his skull in the farthest corners of his mind, wishes for things to be different. For you to have met him differently, for him to be a different man. To be gentler, and to mean it. If he were someone else, he would be soft and take his time, share the plethora of pleasure he has to offer with you until sunrise. He would hold you close, rest your body on expensive sheets and touch you all over.

But he is not. And thus, he shuns regret, locks it away, hooks one arm around your waist instead and presses you to his chest as his hip piston into you, cock digging deep and against your cervix, brushing against the spot that has you seeing stars repeatedly.

And that has you moaning his name, falling from your lips like a mantra, nearly exploding with pleasure. It's all too much and you aren't certain if your body can even take it all. You feel like dying. You feel so so alive. Every single one of your nerves is on fire, and you cling onto him for leverage until it isn't enough anymore. Lust shoots through your body, fills you out wholly and makes you feel so so so good and you just must give it more room, really really feel it and one of your hands darts up as you stretch your arm above your head, hand falling flat onto the wall. And Arthur looks up at you through hooded eyes as if he had been summoned, takes you in: the way your head tilts back just a little, exposes your flushed throat and cheeks, your eyes closed and lips parted, panting heavily. Your tits bounce with every single one of his thrusts as you start to meet them too, fucking back onto them.

He has never seen anything quite like it. Truly, never. You are better than any fucking prostitute, with your earnest moans and seeping wet cunt.

Arthur cranes his neck and latches onto the crook of yours, licking, biting, and tasting your sweat and the pulse beneath your soft skin, surely leaving you with a nasty beard burn. One of his hand snakes between your legs and his fore and ring finger tip against your clit, making you moan brightly, loud and clear. He starts rubbing small, fast circles over it, flicks it between his fingers and you cannot stop yourself - moaning and gasping in rhythym with his thrusts, as you feel your lower body clenching, an unknown and forceful heat boiling inside of you. And Arthur knows you're close. He can feel it too,

"Yeah, 's it love. Fuckin' come f'me, you whore. There ya go, milk me cock like the dir'y lil' --", and you nearly scream as you finally, finally do, after he speeds his fingers up, sounds of your wet cunt filling the air - before you are convulsing around him heavily, legs shaking and cunt squirting against his cock forcefully.

And that's all he needs, too. Feels you practically forcing his cum out of him and you whine loudly as he pumps you full with hot ropes of cum, shoots the deep into your hole, hits your walls with it.

"Ah, fuck", he throws his head back, cheeks flushed and his hips rock up up up, ramming his cock deep in your tight hole as he comes, fucks his cum into you, making your pussy squelch obscenely. You cling onto him for dear life, hands gripping his shirt, while sweet sweet moans fall from your lips as you ride out your own orgasm on his dick.

Collapsing against him, his hips continue to rut upwards into you, until Arthur is all spent, his breathing going heavy and noisily, mingling with your gasping.

Your surroundings get drowned out by the waves of pleasure that shoot through your body, making you light-headed, content, and tired. You feel worn out, but your nerves are on fire, your brain rapid-firing the floating sensation of bliss through your system. It takes you a while to come down back to Earth.

As you do, you are naked in his arms, chest heaving and legs shaking, as you bury your face in his neck inhaling his thick perfume. Your body feels light, limbs a little numb and he runs his hands over your back tenderly, easing the feeling back into you. You can hear his heart beating and the sound lulls you in, a delusory closeness erupting a warm fondness inside of you, that has your belly fluttering. There is still cum trickling out of you, running down your folds and your thighs, while he still plugs your hole up with his softening dick and you feel like you could stay like this forever, listening to his heartbeat and breathing, body comfortably resting against his, his warmth keeping you safe from the world outside.

You think that his cock should probably grow flaccid soon; but he does not, instead Arthur stays buried inside of you, grabs your face with one hand forcing you to look at him. He grins, flashing his incisors at you. "Look at ya, hm", he laughs dryly, "Got ya all soft 'n fucked-out now, don't I?" And he knows that's exactly what he did, feels your puffy hot walls and swollen ring of muscles pressing snugly around his cock. You're hot and wet and gripping at him and he takes a deep breath, thumb caressing your chin. "Ain't ya a pretty thing", he murmurs, more to himself really, and his gaze drops down, to your tits before his free grabs a handful, squeezes your left one not that gently anymore, "Imma break you now, sweetheart."

A confused noise leaves your lips but you are still too far gone, too tired and worn out, as he suddenly yanks you back up and flips you around. Your body gets pressed onto the dirty and sticky surface of the table as he manhandles you, his already once more hardened cock slapping against your ass as he puts your body in position on the table, and -- there it is again. The gun. Rest there, right in your line of sight. It just lays there, hammer pulled back. Arthur notices you staring at it as he positions your body, pulls your ass up up up, until your upper body lies flat on the wooden surface and you are standing on your tip of your toes, his cum tickling down your thighs. "Don't worry - If someone disturbs us, love, I'll kill'em", and you do not even doubt him. You doubt yourself - with the way your body reacts to this. Shivers run down your arms, your back, fresh wetness pooling between your legs. You wonder, how he looks when he kills someone.

"Or", his lips brush over your ear, voice nothing but a low, rough whisper that vibrates in your body, makes your blood sing, "You could 'ave a try at it. Jus' fire it, see what it does - see if you hit'em." He says, as he rubs his hard cock rubs along your folds, runs it through your slick and his cum that still runs out of your already sore hole.

You cannot help but imagine it. How Arthur just pulls your head back, hand in your hair as the door of the snug bursts open - some guy coming inside but you are so so close to coming and your hand reaches for the gun blindly, points, shoots, hits. Red blooms on the golden tapestry behind the dropping body.

"It's easy", he rumbles and so you have heard. What comes after isn't.

You shake your head, but it is not as certain as you wish it to be. "No?", he presses a kiss onto your neck, tip of his cock prodding your entrance, "D'you not feel ready, yet? Mh, 's alright. We have time." And with that he pushes inside of you in one swift motion - like he usually does, not that careful A-Woman-Is-Like-Fine-China-Shit he pulled earlier.

You tremble beneath him, gasping at the sudden intrusion and the feeling of it: how it stretches your abused hole that flutters open inviting him in, your sensitive skin prickling and body aching. Arthur doesn't waste any time, immediately starts fucking you with pointed, deep thrusts that send you reeling already, moaning sweetly for him.

He can feel your ass pressing against his groin, wet sounds of his skin hitting yours already filling the air, with his balls slapping against your wet wet cunt. This is it. This is what he needs you to be like for him - spread out, stretched enough to just take him like this. And you are so inexperienced that you don't even know how to handle it, what to do; you just lay there, taking it all in, your sweet sweet hole ready for the taking and you are enjoying it. Enjoying what he has got to give, what he will take from you. Time and time again. Oh, he is going to keep you.

"Y're fuckin' perfect", he groans, runs one hand down your body, keeps himself upright, steady, and you mewl, eyes rolling back a little with the agonizingly slow pace he has set and --

A hand comes down on your ass - hard. You jolt violently, your hipbones connecting with the edge of the table quite forcefully, glasses clinking against the bottle.

"What d'ya fuckin' say then?"

Your head swims. Your breath falls short. Panic seeps through you and then the pain blooms. Blooms so deliciously that you arch your back into him, moaning so shamelessly that you are certain, somewhere around Birmingham, a cross falls from the wall.

Another sharp slap hits your ass cheek, as his hand connects with it hard.

"I said", his voice is nothing but a gravelly, threatening rumble and you can imagine him clearly, grabbing someone by the lapels before beating their brains to a pulp, until it runs it out their ears a liquid, "What d'ya fuckin' say, you slut?"

"T-thank you, Sir", you whine and he rewards you with another deep thrust that hits the spot just right. "Good girl", he growls, before giving your another light slap, just for good measure, puts both hand flat onto the sticky table right next to your chest. He towers over you like this, head falling forward and strands of hair falling into his face as he speeds up. Rams his cock into you, once twice, with full force and then sets a quick and deep pace, that has him grunting with it.

His cock is dragging along your puffy, sensitive walls and you cannot, for the Love of God, form a straight sentence. All that leaves you mouth is incoherent babbling, as your breath grows shorter and shorter, pleasure pooling in your stomach. Your lips parted, you swear you hear yourself muttering Oh God Oh God Oh God over and over and over again as he pumps his cock into you and your eyes roll back into your skull.

You think you're drooling. No, you definitely are, a small pool of your warm wet saliva gathering at the corner of your mouth, the sheer force of his thrusts dragging your up and down up and down over the table, rubbing your chin through your spit.

"You're mine", he rasps, the glasses on the table shaking and clinking against each other, the table creaaaking along the floorboards, "No one else is gonna have ya, understood?"

"Uh-huh", you make unintelligently, parting your legs for him even more. He groans, as he glides in a little deeper and you do too, as he hits your cervix.

"Ya belong t'me now - I might jus' keep ya around. Would ya like tha'?", he gives your ass another sharp slap, that echoes off the walls of the snug and grabs a fistful of your right cheek, "Bet ya fuckin' would. Jus' keepin' ya with me, takin' ya everywhere I fuckin' go." He grunts, hand leaving your ass to brush a few strands of hair from his forehead that came loose. His scab popped and there is fresh blood running down his forehead, down down down his cheekbone, trickling over his cheek.

"Fuckin' keeping ya 'round naked while I do me fuckin' business, 'n you're jus' there waitin' for me to bend you over the fuckin' table when I please", Arthur's hand presses down between your shoulder blades, deepens the arch he has put your back into already, "Have ya kneeling there, shovin' me cock down your throat when I fuckin' need ya to shut up."

You do not even have to close your eyes, in order to see it on front of your mind's eye: You on your knees in front of him. His hand tangled in your hair, balling into a fist and yanking you forward towards his cock, already leaking and flushed red. Him forcing himself down your throat in the middle of the betting shop, that hums around you like a beehive, while you suck him off. You, on his lap, warming his cock during a meeting in a fancy hotel across the Atlantic. Bouncing on his dick while the other men present marvel at how he trained you so well.

You think you might be begging for him to do exactly that right now - mind and body engulfed in the way Arthur's cock fills you up to the brim, fits inside of you perfectly - unable to resist the onslaught of pleasure he hits you with, as you babble unintelligently. It soon becomes too much, the constant friction against your spongy walls and the tight muscles of your hole, how his dick thrusts against the spot that has you seeing stars repeatedly. Your vision blurs and you shiver, as your limbs go soft, the only sensation in your body that remains is how he fucks you, how his hand presses you down.

All you can feel is him, barely realizing how much you are losing yourself in the friction, the smell, the pleasure: everything becomes so so blurry and the colours soften, the petrol lamps twinkling like stars --

Arthur groans deeply, hand gripping your hair and yanking your head up. "Is you bawlin', sweetheart?", his voice drips with patronizing sarcasm, making clear that he doesn't give a dime. And you are. Hot tears stream down your face, from it all: the sheer overstimulation and the burning pain in your back from the arch he put you into as well as the ruthless pace he drills into you with, leaves your hole sore and cunt dripping.

"Keep that up - noise fuckin' suits ya", Arthur huffs, "My pretty lil' girl."

And then he starts to rut into you like the depraved and rabid dog he is, lewd noises of your wet skin meeting his balls and the skin of his thighs - not quite the animal he usually is with fists, bruises, and razor blades, but the other: with fine Tokyo, booze and sweat. He feels himself getting lost, a red haze filling his sight as he plunges into your tight and begging hole.

Arthur's gaze drops to your face once more and he takes you in, observes how he ruins you, reduces you to your most primal sense like you never ever were a lady strolling down Picadilly but always just a cock-drunk little whore who liked being thrown around by a violent thug - your cheeks dotted prettily with red from exhaustion and wet with your tears, chin shining with your own spit. "Sweetheart", he coos, leans in and turns your head around to him as much as possible. The strain in your neck is so so painful but being able to look at him is worth it, the sight making your pussy clench. There is blood dripping down his face, his eyes are dark dark dark and brows furrowed. "If ya liked spit, ya could've just said so", he rasps and then his hand leaves the back of your skull, grips your chin hard and forces your mouth open.

"Good, jus' like tha', open up", Arthur says, mouth a cruel grin, before leaning in as he spits into your fucking mouth. His saliva is warm as it hits your tongue and it tastes of whiskey and cigars and the way he degrades you is so sick but so so good, that your eyes roll back in your skull, hips bucking against him.

"Bloody fuckin' hell", he breathes, lips parted a little as he sucks in breath after breath, watching you swallowing his spit and licking your lips, your tongue darting out right after. His hips stutter and your whole body yerks forward with the force of it, hands clawing at the table uselessly.

"Fuck, knew ya'd like that", he nearly laughs, but it gets stuck in his throat, comes out as a strangled groan. And then he gathers some more of his saliva, does you the favour, slooowly lets it drip from his lips onto your tongue, his gaze glued to yours as he ruts ruts ruts into you. The table creaks beneath you and you hum, licking the spit from his lips, swallowing it all.

"A-arthur", you breathe, not able to communicate much more, "'S good -- please."

Your head connects with the wooden table forcefully as his hand grabs your neck, presses you down and pain blooms in your skull, shoots right down between your legs. "You fuckin' dirty fuckin' slut fuckin' --", he grunts, grabs one of your legs and yanks it up, shoves your knee onto the table. Your whole body aches, you are dizzy and there is such a pleasure coiling in your lower belly, you feel like you might just die. Like your head's going to explode. The angle of your leg lets him slide in deeper and he holds you down like this: one hand on the base of your skull, the other digging into your thigh sharply.

And this time you do scream; his name falling from your lips like a dirty fucking prayer - Arthur Arthur Arthur - as he holds you down, legs shaking and hips bucking, cunt squirting against him like a broken hose. Your juices make a mess out of his trousers and his shirt, leave stains all over them as he fucks your wetness back into you.

You are nowhere near coming and yet you feel so so so close - just a whining moaning mess beneath him, skin sore and sensitive, your face wet with tears and spit and sweat as his thrusts drag your body through the filth of the table's surface. Everything is too much and too little just the same, leaves you wanting for more and absolutely flooded with lust.

Wailing, and in a desperate attempt to get his attention that you are so so close but not close enough, you lift your head, looking over your shoulder. Arthur looks up at you, from where he watched his cock ramming in and out of you. The sight knocks the air from your lungs: his hair is a sticky mess, darkened by sweat and blood, that runs down his cheek, stained his shirt and surely already dropped down onto your back; his throat and chest, at least where you can see with his shirt half unbuttoned, is flushed and he furrows his brows, lips slightly agape as he pants and grunts. And then he sinks down on his elbows, his chest pressing flush against your back, before he leans in, lock his lips with yours and fucks you into the table.

That is all you need. His tongue licks into your mouth and you fucking explode around him, cunt squeezing him so hard he feels like he is going to pass out and so do you, as your shaking rattles the table, while you cum, white filling your vision.

It does not take much longer for Arthur, who rails you through your orgasm, all soft and rigid moans against your lips, cheek, and ear, before he pumps you full with his cum, sinks down onto you after, while relishing the last few thrusts of his hips into your tight heat. His weight is heavy on top of you, as he barely supports himself with his lower arms planted onto the sticky wood, breathes heavily against your neck.

Eventually, Arthur straightens back up, you barely register it, too far gone. You close your eyes, drawing in shaky breaths as he wipes the blood and sweat of his face, reaches for the bottle. You hear him rummaging around behind you, the shuffling of clothes and his exhausted breathing, but you cannot focus on it. Your limbs are heavy and you just lay there, bliss wrapping your brain in making it all mushy and soft and you just feel. Your aching hole, your aching back, the dull pain in your head - the insane galloping of your heart that only slowly ebbs, the way your cunt feels empty and worn out now. And then you hear the bench behind you creaking, feel his hands on your hips as he lifts you from the table and into his lap again.

You sink against his chest, as one of his strong arms cradles your frame, pulling you close. Eyes falling shut once more, you just breathe, listening to the sound of his lighter clicking and him taking a few drags from a cigarette.

"You wan' a smoke, love?", he rumbles, nose brushing against the shell of your ear. Your heart still thunders in your chest and you crave tobacco, nodding. He gently grabs your chin and turns your head around, places the cigarette between your slightly parted lips while your eyelids flutter, gaze shifting from his calloused hands to his blue eyes. You can feel his cum trickling out of you and onto the bench.

His cheeks are still a little flushed, but his eyes gleam like he has just won a race.

"Same time, next week?", he whispers, moustache tickling your cheek.

[bunicate]

he’s worried that he won’t fit. a monolith of a man, inches stacked upon inches, with a body molded to be a weapon of war.

he’s too rigid, too sharp, too big, and scary to be told to sit still like a mindless toy, but he does so anyway.

könig listens to whatever you tell him to because he likes to hear that little excited mewl you sing when his thumb nudges that pudgy spot.

he’s overdressed, to say the least. his tactical gear is haphazardly strewn on his body. he was going to completely disrobe, but you insisted he keep it on whilst you climbed over him completely naked.

nothing but a soft little thing, bottom round and fat, bouncing and riding his thumb of all things. his hand rests over his crotch, large finger pointing outward only to be swallowed by your tight wet slit.

sure, it’s an unusual sight but also a pretty one. It's obscured a bit from the graceful sway of your pretty tits, but greedily he watches the every-so-often turn of your head to see the flesh of your own ass jiggle with every stroke of your hips.

his muscled body is barely tucked between your soft thighs as you draw your much-needed pleasure from his thumb— not his cock. even his tongue would suffice, to fuck apart your taut center with his mouth.

he’s definitely big enough to do it, but no, your fascination lies with his hands.

“so big kö. . . “

he wants to laugh, whether it’s out of exasperation or pure disbelief that his one finger could drag out such a reaction.

maybe he’s underestimated the size difference, maybe the little bunny hopping in his lap is much smaller than he thought. maybe he’s bigger than he thought.

“s’not even my cock, liebling. . .”

puffy lips enclose around the appendage, only seeming to fatten up from your aggressive rhythm. your fingers dig into his shoulders to steady yourself as your hole gushes out little creamy spurts of your wetness.

“if my thumb is so big how can i expect you to take my cock, hm ?”

it’s light-hearted, but you can sense the not-so-hidden layer of his anxiety. you’ve seen him in all of his naked glory, how his cock is as big as the rest of him. how swollen it gets when you’ve teased him too much, and it swells against his abdomen with erratic thumps, but you’ve mastered re-assuring the sweet giant.

“im gonna do it . don’t worry . .”

you slightly speed up your little bounces, enjoying the way your clit grazes against his clad body.

könig’s rough hand rests on your ass, parting the fat cheek to watch the hungry convulse of your pussy.

“you’re so good to me, so I know you’re gonna take care of me, kö.”

that adorable sentiment makes him harder. his balls tighten in his pants, aroused simply by the thought of tending to his saccharine sweet girl.

keuche in meinem verdammten mund. sag mir, wie gut ich auf dich aufpasse. ‘pant in my fucking mouth. tell me how good I am at taking care of you’.

his cock aches, incredibly turned on by the thought of his precious girl having faith that he’d handle you with such trust.

he’d try.

he’ll kiss your messy holes, and rub your tender and sodden flesh with rough and scar-lined fingers. hands ghosted with the souls of stolen life, plunging into your wet cunt until it can stretch to finally take his cock.

“keep hopping f’me, hase.”

he spanks the widest part of your ass eliciting more of your drooly whines.

“daddy will get you nice and ready for his fat cock, ja?”

you’re losing the strength to keep yourself up, and the impact on the roundness of your butt propels you a bit forward. you let it happen.

you lean into him, kissing him messily on the mouth over his tattered mask breathing hot air, “ mhm. can’t wait anymore, baby. . .”

“ schiesse. excited for me to pound that little pussy ?” he chuckles. it’s a little pathetic, your flappy little clit wipes against the skin of his hand and that’s it to make you twitch violently.

he mutters a string of things in german.

you can’t make out what he’s saying exactly, but you know it’s filthy and gross. he’s sucking marks on your neck, groaning and rambling in your ear as you leak all over his lower half. his other hand cups you to help guide your bottom.

“ fuck. . . ah ah ah. koo . . m’gonna cum . .”

he’s far too worked up, thrilled even that any part of him will always be enough to satisfy you from his massive size.

he wiggles his finger deeper , poking and sliding between your walls until you seize around him.

god, it’s precious. you're pulling on him, whining and tossing in his embrace, begging him to hold you.

“ so perfect, schatz.”

so soft, so little when he untangles your limbs. so pretty when he lays you on the bed and tucks his pruned finger in your tiny mouth.

your cheeks suction and your lips pucker around his thumb, slowly dragging your head up and down just like he taught you.

“thaaat’s it maus. . . y’like big things in your mouth, hm ?”

he rubs his erection through the cotton twill. those doe eyes blink up at him in a daze as you lick your ruin from the hands all too familiar with terror.

“gutes kleines mädchen.” good little girl.

[s1mon-r1ley]

Needy

König x Fem! Reader

Hi! I won’t be posting for a while/haven’t been posting because of some things happening, but I made this a while ago so I’ll post it. I’ll be posting again in about a month or so.

SMUT

MINORS DNI

König was needy, there is no doubt about that. He can’t live without you, can’t breathe, can’t sleep can’t think. It’s like his whole world stops spinning and his heart stops beating when he has to separate himself from you. His darling. Deployments are the worst, his mind muddled as all he can think about is his beautiful woman back home.

Most nights when he’s gone are spent secretly pumping his fat cock to photos of you, some innocent and some of those dirty little photos he begged for you to send. Dressed in that cute pink bra and pantie set he bought you, even begged for you to where his dog tags and cum on your tits, thick ropes covered your breasts and face, the silver around your neck absolutely covered in cum.

His teammates have caught him, more then once, he’s a desperate pathetic man without his liebe. He’s not ashamed, not one bit when all he can think about is that pretty face and sexy body. It gets worse when he’s almost done with his deployments, just the thought of seeing you has him quickly going to the bathroom while palming his cock to jerk himself off until he’s shooting blanks.

Once he’s home, he’s all over you. Not even attempting to get out of his gear and just bending you over the couch, lifting the pretty little sundress and bunching it above your hips, his swollen cock hurting as he sees your wearing his favorite pair of panties, a delicate lacy baby blue thong. He hooks his finger on the lace garment, moving it to the side as he tugs out his cock.

He doesn’t even last that long, his tip pushes in for the first time in four months and he cums on the spot. It doesn’t deter him, not once bit, just fucking his seed deeper into your warm cunt, humping you like an animal in heat. Load after load he spills into that sweet pussy, mumbling incoherent words, mixed German and English. After each bust he switches the position, now on the floor as he pumps himself in from behind, whole body weight crushing you while he pants on you like he just ran a marathon, drool dribbling on your back from his mouth wide open.

It’s almost like every couple of thrusts he’s orgasming, whimpering in your ear, moaning almost louder then you. Creamy seed coats his cock, a small ring of the fluid at the base and dribbling down his balls. “Say you’re mine, tell me who you belong to..” he moans out, holding your hand, gently caressing the wedding band on your finger. You can barely speak when he fucks you so good, cock drunk from the amazing sex. “M’yours…” you squeak out, barely heard from the slapping of your ass against his pelvis, sloppy wet pussy and both of your moans intertwined with one another, your definitely getting a noise complaint from the neighbors.

Your pussy I’d so sensitive from his big cock pounding into you for the last half hour, eyes rolling into the back of your eyes as you orgasm just from that massive fucking cock alone, he’s too fucked dumb to do anything else other then fuck you as much as possible. He coos sweet praises to you, punctuating his words each thrust. “Love this fucking pussy… missed it so much.” His cock carves and leaves a place only he will ever reach, claiming it as his each time he shoot’s his load into you, neither of you would have it any other way.

Hickeys scatter your thighs, breasts, neck, shoulder, back and collar bones. His sharp teeth digging in to your back trying to quit himself but that’s impossible, you make him fucking crazy, make his cock impossiblelu hard, no woman could ever have this effect on him like you do, never. Your pussy is like a warm embrace he’s never had, holding him and sucking him back in each time his fat dick leaves your depths only to plunge back in one more.

After countless orgasms his hips stutter, collapsing on top of you as his cock softens in your gummy walls, trapping his loads inside you and keeping it as far in your depths as possible. Your knees are rubbed raw from the carpet, hips bruised from his grip on them and ass red from his powerful hips slapping against them each sloppy thrust. He turns you on your back and nuzzles against you, face planted straight between your tits, moaning sweet praises to you. It stays like this for a while until he carries you into the bathroom and takes a bath with you while talking about your time while separated.

He can’t leave your side, not after those long periods without you, it’s physically impossible for him, always finding every excuse to be with his darling, you’re his whole reason for being. You can never feel unwanted from the way he is obsessed with you, he will do anything for you. These things will always reassure his devotion to you.

[qixttine]

König x GN reader!!

My pretty boy.

König, your boyfriend of 2 years, stood by the mirror. The same mirror which was placed infront of the bed you were laying on, the shared bed of your shared apartment.

You noticed that he was staring at himself with a frown, causing you to frown as well. He lifted out a hand to touch his stomach, then his other hand to touch his face filled with scars.

Realising the situation, you stood up from the bed and walked towards him to wrap your hands around his waist.

Luckily, your much larger hands and taller height made it easier to do so.(ik ik ik, König's a 6'10 or smth but let me dream)

You leaned down to kiss the side of his neck, causing a shiver out of the man.

"Liebling, what are you doing?" He asks in a shaky voice, his accent clear as day when he was nervous.

"Showing love to my pretty boy." You replied knowingly, a smile on your face as you continued kissing all over his neck.

Now, normally you'd get a snarky remark from him. But now, he was silent, contemplating your words. After a few moments, he spoke up.

"Pretty? Don't be ridiculous. I look like shit... I gained weight..."

"So? That'll just make our cuddle session even better." You whispered in his ear as you placed a hand on his stomach.

He let out a huff of slight annoyance. He couldn't understand why you were acting like this, were you blind? He had a scarred face and a fat body. You seriously found that attractive?

"My face is scarred, my body-"

"Is beautiful." You cut him off. "Sweetheart, you're beautiful to me, scars and all." You assured with a smile.

A slight blush on the back of his neck could be seen. He felt like crying. Hell, he could already feel the tears build up. God, was he grateful to have you. Forever grateful to have you hold him and whisper how beautiful he was.

You held his hand and led him over to the bed to sit down. Despite not knowing what you were planning to do, he trusted you. He trusted you to love him and care for him. He trusted you with his life.

You sat down next to him and leaned down to press kisses all over his rough skin. He whined in protest as his blush got redder and redder. He would tell you to stop in German, even though he could easily make you stop himself. Yet, he didn't. He let you, despite his half-hearted protest.

You whispered praises into his ear as your hand caressed every inch of his body, earning a soft moan from him.

You told him how beautiful he was and how much you loved him, loves worshipping him. And worshipped him you did. You spent hours kissing and nipping his skin, your eyes filled with awe as you worshipped his beautiful body. He would moan, whine, shiver at every touch and word. He felt like heaven.

While the process, he started to cry. He cried out in pleasure, embarrassment, and love. He loved how you worshipped him, how you praised and kissed him. At the same time, he was embarrassed on how much he enjoyed this. Yet, he felt too much pleasure to even care at this point.

His mind felt foggy, his body twitching, his hands coming up to grip your shirt as if it was grounding him. He couldn't even form words at this point. Instead, he just sobbed into the fabric of your shirt.

He was grateful, oh so grateful for you. He treasured you, loved you with all his heart. In his world filled with darkness, you were his only light.

"Please... Please don't leave me."

Request are open!!!

[qwimblenorrisstan]

Maybe I’m projecting with this bc of a very scary close call I experienced recently but I just know that COD men would keep their partner safe

John Price, who is traditional not in the nasty toxic ways, but in the manner that he would always walk you home after a date, even if it hadn’t gone well or had been awkward, or maybe something had gone wrong. He would drive you home if he could, because he’s not letting anyone try to snatch you in the streets under the cover of dark. You aren’t comfortable with him taking you home or sharing your address with him? That’s fine, you can call an Uber, just make sure to use the number he gave you to text and assure him that you made it home safe.

Kyle “Gaz” Garrick, who is a gentleman in every way, and would give the nastiest looks to any man who even tried to get a bit too close. No, it’s not because he’s jealous or possessive, he knows you’re your own person and he loves your individuality, he just wants to keep you safe. Will bare his teeth at any man who makes your muscles tense even just slightly. Yes, he will call them out in broad daylight, or keep a hand on his gun and the other near you during the night. You aren’t getting hurt on his watch.

Johnny “Soap” MacTavish, who’s mother and all of his sisters, nieces, and girl cousins taught him just how scary men could unknowingly or purposefully be to women. He would try to keep the mood light, joking and just pulling a bit of laughter out of you at first so he didn’t have to see that glimmer of fear. But if you still felt unsafe with whatever man was lurking or following? He’ll start barking Scottish gibberish that sounds like curses at the person furiously, using the voice he equips when chewing out rookies, one that deters anyone, only to give you puppy eyes after and ask if you’re alright.

Simon “Ghost” Riley, who’s seen his mother be intimidated by his abusive father, watched her get screamed at, beaten, cussed at, and treated terribly almost his entire life before her death. He does not want to see you be intimidated by any man if he can help it. He is a creepy-man deterrent on his own, height and muscle mass usually warding off anyone stupid enough to trail you. But for anyone more persistent? He will stop dead in the street and look straight at them. Once they see the gleam in his big, brown eyes guaranteeing murder and the gun he holds in his hand, your hand in his other hand, they’ll leave the both of you alone for sure.

Gary “Roach” Sanderson, who, despite his mute and mildly anxious nature, will puff his chest out and glare at anyone making you uncomfortable. Will flip them off and pull out a bottle of bear spray, probably shaking the container while looking them dead in the eye. Will not take any bullshit from creepy men trying to scare you, or trying to snatch you.

König, who is an asset on his own, over 6 feet of pure thick muscle and a thin layer of fat. He can get a bit anxious in public like Roach, but if anyone’s making his Schatz uncomfortable? He will kick his German into full gear, harsh voice barking out curses loudly and intimidatingly at the perpetrator who would quickly get the lesson and leave quickly, only to turn back to you and ask if you’re alright, and tell you that he’s sorry if he scared you in the softest, gentlest voice as if he was talking to a little kitten.

[wtfdemother]

Idfk filth

CW: yes. fluffy dw

dividers by tsunami-of-tears

Getting so worked up after a night of drinking with König, his cock straining so painfully tight in his pants he almost took you in the back seat of the Uber driver right then and there.

You barely manage to get in the house, pushing each other further towards the bedroom in a whirlwind of messy kisses, mindlessly groping one another. His tongue lapped at your mouth, you can taste the whiskey on his breath as your saliva intermingles with his, König finally loses patience. He hoists you up to his waist, calloused paws gripping you firmly on the back of your thighs as he climbs the stairs in a hurry.

He’s to make sure you’re treated well tonight. Ahh, Schatz how you must know how much that man fucking loves you. Clothes mindlessly discarded across the bedroom floor after slamming you on the springy mattress, he’s an animal driven by instinct with the need to breed.

Stuff you full until you can’t even remember your own fucking name. He loves you, adores you, worships the very ground you walk on. He needs that fact engrained into your brain.

He wants your mind full of him, your pussy full of his tongue while he moans your name like a prayer, swallowing every drop of delectable honey you gift him, so soft and pliable, König could drown in your essence.

“Meine süße Königin, du bist eine schöne Hure für mich, ja? Alles für die König, ja?”

He’s egging you, edging you, taunting you with mean words only to coat them in sugar.

A desperate whine tears through your throat from the teasing, you can’t take it anymore. You can’t take it…you want to be full of your König.

But he worships your weeping cunt and stretches you good for him.

“I don’t want to hurt my little lamb…” he mutters before giving your clit a tentative little kiss, scissoring your entrance to accommodate what’s to come. “I don’t think I’ll ever forgive myself if I hurt you, meine Taube.”

Despite the burn of the alcohol that courses through his bulging veins, König’s touch remains so sweet and tender it’s almost sickening. But it felt so good… you don’t want him to ever stop being the kind and thoughtful man he truly is.

He licks your swollen nub, rimming your cunt with calloused digits, not yet plunging them in. König laps leisurely, minutes tick by as he savours your natural lubricant, he doesn’t think he has to use any from the bottle he bought prior. You’re so wet, haven’t even cum on his tongue yet.

Lewd squelches echo through the silence of the room in between shared moans, your juices flowing down to the curve of your asscheeks, “You’re dripping,” he states, switching between tongue fucking your cunt and kissing your overly sensitive clit or fingering you.

But he pulls out too soon for you to cum.

You throb around nothing, fat globs of tears make their way down your flushed expression. You whine pathetically while desperately trying to get a firm grip on the tuffs of lightly coloured hair between your legs, devouring you. “König… my love… I want you, please… I need you so bad…I need you-”

He immediately obeys, doesn’t matter how immersed he was eating your pussy, your cries always come first. He crawls over you, caging you, securing you in his protective embrace.

“I love you…” König mutters, captures your lips with his as you taste yourself on his tongue. He slips inside you with ease, “Das ist es, Taube…” König praises, feeling the searing warmth of your body wrap deliciously around his aching cock.

“Ahh… das is es, Scheiße-!” He cusses and hisses through gritted teeth, trying his best to move slow. “Meine Liebe… I cannot—you feel too good…” he splays his hands under the crook of your knees, hiking your legs as far as they can go.

“Gonna fuck…this delicious pussy, my love. Gonna fill you…to the brim.”

He grunts out words of filth between thrusts, alternating between German and English until you both are reduced into a puddle of carnal needs and desire. The sound of skin slapping against one another fills the room, the bed creaks in rhythm to his pounding, taking the big boy well.

“Mein Sschaaatz…” he drawls out, drooling on your tits as he switches between either nipple to suckle on. “Du bist perfekt… Diese enge Muschi ist alles für mich, ja? Sag es.”

“All yoursss…!” You babble as you near the edge, pulsing and sucking him in further, trying to milk your man of all his worth. “This pussy is all yours!! All yours, König, all yours-! Fuckk! Meeeee-!”

Your words spur him further, he’s so close. “Gonna breed this needy cunt for König, ja? Is that what you crave, meine liebe? Meine Verdammt Sonnenscheine…”

A sharp gasp, your vision begins to spot, eyes roll to the back of your head as you let your orgasm wash over you in ecstatic waves.

König is quick to follow, giving your pussy a few more pumps before caving into the feeling. Broken ‘I love you’s’ were exchanged as he loads your womb full of his potent seed, cradling you with such tenderness as you both come down from your shared high. He kisses you feverishly, muttering words of gratitude, “I love you…I love you so much, you’re all mine…”

“All mine, Taube… you’re my love.”

He holds you through the night, nevermind the tacky feeling of sweat clinging to your bodies, König doesn’t pull out when you fall asleep together. The house is relatively quiet, except for the soft snores coming from the sleeping giant.

Phew.

[evilfrogcereal29]

Cw/Tw: light nsfw, ass slapping, body worship, chubby & fem!reader, cursing, negative body image

I'm sorry but idgaf what König's VA fckin says König would fucking ADORE big/chubby girls. If u don't agree jus block me now /hj

The contrast between his solid, toned muscles and your soft, squishy flesh is like art to him. When he slaps your bare ass and your skin ripples and jiggles for a few seconds longer than normal. Fuck. He loves that so much. Loves the weighted blanket effect you give when you sprawl yourself over him, putting all you have onto him, he will assure you he can take it. If you can cook/bake thats even better!! König is definitely a messy & fast eater, so theres no judgement in sitting on the couch gorging yourselves on chinese takeout while watching terrible german romcoms, his head nestles on your chest. He lets out an adorable sound for a man his size everytime you run your hands through his hair, similar to a purr.

If anyone makes a remark about the large amount of food you've made/ordered, König will make his presence known.

"she's feeding the both of us." He says firmly, and the offender runs off with their metaphorical tail tucked between their legs.

Body worship champion. He can be really bad with words in the heated moment, but his hands mostly speak for him, praising you wordlessly with each affectionate touch.

"oh schatz... you're built like a goddess.." he gasps, double fisting a handful of your love handles, pulling you close to his chest. He's all red in the face, like a shy little boy. You drive him insane. He doesn't feel good enough for you. He's too awkward, too big, too tall, too everything.

But when you tell him you're too fat?

"nein." He hisses, arms slinking around you from your spot in front of the mirror. "Du bist perfekt für mich. The right size, the right weight. You are just right dear. Perfect." He kisses you up and down, starting at your shoulders, working his way down to your back, moving around you so he could kiss your stomach. You try to intercept, with tears in your eyes, but he pushes your hands away. This is his purpose, his real job.

"let me see whats mine schatz... Let me show you how much I love what I see... Let me show you how perfect...." he can barely hold back, can barely finish his thoughts. As he finishes peppering kisses down your thighs to your knees, he moves up and abruptly pulls you into a kiss. And boy. He showed you that night ;)c

Lastly he never presures you into anything, if you decide its time for a weight loss journey, no matter how big or small, whether its for health concerns, emotional wellbeing, or something else, he supports you going at your own pace. And if you pull out of it? Give in and have a cheat day and feel like shit? He is right there to comfort.

I just... I could go on.. he just... Is made for a short chubby gf I SWEAR THIS ISN'T MY BIAS AS A SHORT CHUBBY PERSON😭 nikto, Krueger, all my other top favs, i imagine they would probably date girls of any size.. but König just... HE JUST SPEAKS TO ME OK?? HIS VA IS WRONG.

Thank u for reading and listening to my ramble :3 have a good day

[bravo4iscool]

Hii, this this the person talkin about chubbier Simon! Give me a sec and let me set the stage for you,

Simon Riley x 141!reader whos on military leave to cope after a particularly hard mission. Reader finds a way of coping and expressing their love to simon through the art of cooking for him constantly. (i come from largely a guyanese and indian family so everyday theres always good food on the table) So we all know this man can eat ALOT (he needs to maintain his girlish figure after all😌lmao) So i can just IMAGINE him eating all the stews, curries, roti and rice (or whatever culture/country reader comes from)he can get his hands on! He would have such an appreciation for food from working in the military so long and having limited food he could eat. So going from a man of pure slabs of muscle to slabs of muscle but WITH softer abs he gets a little self conscious but he sees the benifits that hes getting alot with a great meal everyday and how his reader ogles him everyday hes starts to like the change. (Theres actually more benefits for having muscle and fat than just pure muscle!! When you see bodybuilders with just pure muscle the muscles in their whole body are constricted causing cramps and alot more muscle pulling in day to day life compared to heavy weight lifters who many not look as muscular but can lift much more while still having a strong core and overall more power)

Sorry to ramble and run but this has been rattling my brain. Have a great day and remember to drink water♡

I ABSOLUTELY LOVE THIS OMG!! THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THIS ASK!!! i‘m sorry i wasn’t able to answer it any sooner, i‘m in my last three weeks of school and it‘s kinda stressful🥲. i hope you can understand…

as someone who is russian-german i totally understand the whole food thing😭 (thats why reader will be russian-german lol. it‘s the only culture i really know about the food and all that (at least i think i know about the food🧍🏼). also, i do not know the english names of the food so i‘ll be using the terms i know.)

i hope you like this!!

(masterlist)

REQUESTS/ASKS OPEN!!!

„y‘cooking too good f‘me,“ simon mumbles as he puts his arms around your waist and pulls you into his chest. „‘m loosing all my muscles.“

you chuckle and turn your head to look at him. „that‘s not true! you‘re just developing a little more fluff.“ you smile and turn again to focus on the food you‘re preparing. „besides having muscles with a layer of fat is way healthier than just muscles.“ you can feel simon nod with his head rested on yours.

„what‘re y‘makin‘?“

„pelmeni,“ you answer, skilfully sticking the dough together so the meat would stay inside while you cook them. „i haven‘t made them for you till now.“

simon lowers his head so it‘s beside yours and examines the dough and meat in front of you. „thought we a’ready had ‘em two weeks ago?“

you shake your head and lick your bottom lip, trying to concentrate. „that were manti simon. they are made like…mochis. pelmeni are cooked in water.“

simon doesn‘t say anything and buries his nose in your neck. „t‘boys will laugh a‘me when we return,“ he mumbles as his lips ghost over your skin to leave little kisses.

„they won‘t,“ you protest and slightly slap his arm. „if anything they will be jealous!“ you dust your hands off and turn around in his arms. he looks at you and you start to frown. „you are not…insecure, are you?“ when simon just blinks at you without answering you take his face into your hands.

„you, simon riley, do not need to be insecure because you’re eating good. you’re not getting fat or losing muscles. if anything, you’re only getting healthier because the army food is total garbage and you’re finally getting some real food,“ you try to explain, withstanding his gaze the whole time. „don‘t beat yourself up over stuff like this.“ your voice is gentle as you caress his scarred face with your thumbs. „you deserve something good life. let me be that something.“

silence follows after you‘re done talking and you could swear you saw a tear in simon‘s eye but then he blinks and it is gone. „i don‘t deserve ya,“ he whispers, pulling you close again. „i don‘t deserve ya…“

„oh, but you do,“ you smile as you pull him down to press a gentle kiss on his lips. „you do deserve me and you also deserve my food.“ you put your arms around his waist and hug him. he does the same, keeping you close to him. he rests his head on yours and closes his eyes. he just wants to savour this moment…

[goodmorningchat]

Nothing wrong with what I do baby puppen. (baby dolls)

Minors I suggest you don't interact. NSFW

Big ass age gap.

Tw: nsfw, age gap (könig is 46. Ok it's not his actually age. But it's just for this, reader is 22. Choking, spanking. (Part bdsm: bondage.) König is like hella bigger then reader. Dude is 6'10, daddy issues, (könig takes advantage of that.) könig being a narcissist, and a hell of a toxic boyfriend. (Though he doesn't realize it.) Forcing sex, guilt tripping, manipulating, size kink, spitting kink,

🌽Link↓🌽

König forcing reader into sex with him

Thinking about...

König!x!reader: where...

he loves bending you over about anywhere. There's not a moment this man is not horny when he's with you. This man will bend you over the bathroom sink as soon as you get out the shower. If objects could talk. They would not hold back from telling people the things they seen. Though könig likes the idea of putting on a show for The neighbors. Just his idea of telling the neighbor guy to fuck off and you don't want no little boy to play around with. Yeah. König seen how that man looked at you. Again you don't want no one your age. So he will gladly fuck you in front of the window.

König!x!reader: where...

He constantly begs for you to have sex with him... Even when you don't want it. He finds ways to get you to have sex with him. Either guilt-tripping you or just forcing you. He's horny. and you're the only one, there to satisfy his needs. If you're in bed sleeping, he will wake you right up, his fat meaty cock already out his pants. He's so painfully horny he doesn't think he can get out his clothing properly. It's only when you realize your clothing is missing, and you have a big ass man between your legs about to shove his fat-meaty cock in you.

König!x!reader: where...

He will purposely grip your thigh in a restaurant, and tease you up and down your thigh, and whisper nasty lue words in your ear. Words in German you don't understand. But they send heat straight to your core. You can't even tell him to stop, you're already a frustrated mess. He will slip in hand into your panties, just to feel his wet you are for him. May even slip a finger in. Or circle your swollen frustrated clit. It's only when you're out the restaurant, and into his truck, you get fingered on the way home. "Got so frustrated for me baby?, need daddy's attention now?." He knows what those words do to you. And it's sexually and emotionally, irritating

König!x!reader: where...

König will bend you over on the couch, as soon as you get back from "a business meeting with your boss" slapping your titties, and ass, whenever you tell him to stop. Spouting nasty words in your ear, and gripping your throat from behind. His belt binding your wrist together. Not caring about the "pain hes inflicting on you" he knows you love it. You better take it. He didn't put you in a cat pose for nothing. The way your back is perfectly arched for him, he can cum just from the sight alone. He moved to tilt your head back, to spit in your mouth. Putting his hand on your jaw and closing it, making sure you swallow.

König!x!reader: where...

He is obsessed with your size difference. He loves when you have trouble reaching for stuff in his home, he loves purposely sneaking up on you, pushing you into the counter with his body, his now semi hard cock is pressing against your back. He might as well just fuck you on the countertop. That's not half of a bad idea is it now?, having those pretty legs wrapped around his waist, as he wraps arms underneath your thighs, holding you in the air as he pounds away. Noting but a daily life about having sex with this high sex drive man. Though he will be in pain when he gets deployed. Gonna need those sexy nudes from you.

[zvdvdlvr]

Can I have Actor Aaron Warner x Actress/Singer Yn?!?

— Fry?

🎥 - synopsis. After filming a scene, Aaron suddenly gets a frog in his throat. After getting released from set, you and Aaron head to Burger King late at night. Talk of feelings ensue.

🎥 - warnings. Kissing. Sloppily put together plot. Aaron is a germaphobe. Pining. Friends to lovers. No lip kissing. SORRY FOR NOT POSTING SOONER!!! You walked into the room, clutching Aaron’s arm tightly. With owlish eyes, you took in the casino with a starstruck look. Aaron kept walking forward, keeping you close enough to him that you were enveloped with his scent- cologne, fresh mint toothpaste, the expensive gel in his hair, and like clean clothes.

“Eyes on the prize, darling girl,” Aaron murmured quietly, tucking a stray hair behind your ear before pulling pressing his lips to your forhead. You kept your cool, smiling smally at the handsome man in from of you. You nodded. The prize? Racks of gold and information in the basement.

Aaron sat down in the seat next to a fat Italian man and a muscular German. Without wasting a second, he pulled you into his lap and wrapped his non-dominant hand around your waist as he was dealt into the game.

“Nice to finally see you, sir,” a man greeted politely from across the table. “We’ve been discussing business…” he trailed off, eyes flickering to your face. “And have been awaiting your input… Should we expect your word before the next meeting?”

Aaron leaned back, tucking his cards into your soft hands, pulling your back flush against his chest. “No need to withhold details from my wife, Senator. I promise she wont say a word. In fact,” Aaron’s eyes glinted as he stared down the men at the table, “she can’t speak.”

You watched as eyebrows shot up at the use of the word ‘wife’.

“However, should you decide to take advantage of the fact that my darling girl can’t speak… I can happily promise you that I will tear you all apart: piece by piece, tendon by tendon, dollar by dollar. You will be nothing more than another worthless piece of flesh by the time I am done with you. Understood?”

The crowd nodded hastily, faces red and sweaty.

The game of poker was simply a diversion. When it ended, the amateur robbers you hired under a fake name and different face were to be ratted out. After that, the Japanese man you were playing with would be sent up to the police station to go over security measures for the vault in the basement. From there, everyone would be spoken to by numerous officers. The men, including Aaron, would give their stories, saying that they were just a group of buddies catching up over some poker.

You were to act ill and lightheaded, signing to Aaron how horrible you felt with the rush of excitement. Aaron would explain to the officer how you had a heart condition and produce fake papers from his suit pocket. The officer would nod slowly and excuse you to the bathroom where you would ‘collect yourself’.

The interviews would be fast- there were other civilians to interview as well. Aaron would excuse himself to go check on you.

Instead of going to the bathroom you went to the basement. Earlier in the month, you’d stored a security uniform in the third stall of the woman’s first floor bathroom. Aaron’s was in the vent near the ceiling in the men’s room.

Down you went, playing your role perfectly. Aaron was about three minutes and fourty-six seconds behind you. While he was in the elevator, you had disabled the camera covering the basement and looping a clip of two hours previous so it disn’t record you or Aaron.

Aaron exited the elevator, eyes searching for you in a matching black uniform. He saw you examining the red lazer maze and coughed.

You turned.

Aaron kept coughing and started pounding on his chest. You rushed over to him and pounded on his back.

“Breathe, Warner. You ruined the scene man, we’re totally dead now,” you teased.

The blond man finally stopped coughing and stood up. “Yeah. I’d be a horrible spy,” he mused.

You laughed.

The producers and directors behind the cameras all bustled around behind you, chattering and reviewing the scene.

“Well. Y/n, Aaron. Wonderful as always. Until the end, of course,” one of your produces said, shooting Aaron a smile. “You already know we’re ahead of schedule, so you guys both have the night. Get that frog out of your throat and be ready tomorrow!”

Your assistants ushered you both to the makeup room and got busy removing your makeup.

“Are you hungry, y/n?” Aaron asked, eyeing you.

You groaned. “I’m starving. Do you wanna go get something to eat?”

Aaron chuckled, replying with “I’ll pay.”

You squealed excitedly. “Even better!”

— 🎞️

A little over an hour later Aaron watched you run toward a Burger Kind with open arms in the rain. A small smile painted his lips as he entered and saw you ordering already.

The young cashier looked at you with a tilted head, his eyes narrowed like he recognized you. Aaron came up beside you and waited for you to finish before getting his food. He shoced his credit card into the other man’s hands and felt a small rush of adrenaline shoot through his veins when you wrapped your arms around his stomach and squeezed quickly before taking your drink cup and going to fill it up.

Aaron took his card back and barely made it back to your table before brandishing a bag of antibacterial wipes and bathing his credit card in it. You snickered at his actions.

“Why did you come here if you were gonna get all germaphobic?” You asked, taking a sip of your drink.

“You wanted to come here,” Aaron asked, a finality in his tone.

“But we didn’t have to if you-“

“Y/n have you seriously not noticed that I buy everything you touch when we go shopping? How I follow you and only you around on set and on vacation when you’re around? Have you not noticed how I only smile at you?” Aaron asked, genuinely confused how you didn’t notice.

Your face turned pale and you shrugged. “I didn’t want to convince myself you liked me and then break my own heart whem you find someone you truly do like.”

Aaron scoffed. “There is someone I truly like- love, even.”

You nodded, eyes avoiding Aaron’s.

“And I’m looking at her,” Aaron finished, voice soft.

Aaron’s last name was shouted out before you could open your mouth.

When the blond came back, he set the plastic tray of food down. “Eat. We don’t have to talk about this if you don’t want to, but you are the only one for me, y/n.”

You nod, picking up a fry and biting a big chunk off. “I’ll need time. You’re- I feel the same, Aaron. I just…” you trail off, happy to see that Aaron Warner is Smiling at you. You really were a fool not to see it before.

“Share a fry with me?” You ask, holding out the steaming salt-covered hunk of potato. Aaron picks it out of your fingers with his teeth and stays quiet, happy to be with you.

[hiskillingjar]

nobody else but you

Relationship: Strade/OC Rating: Explicit Contains: Forced Feminisation, Misgendering, Vaginal Sex, Choking Length: 1750+ words

another wonderful request from @snuffk1t for his OC, melvin, thanks so much again, spencer! <3

if you'd like a commission of your own, feel free to check out my post and shoot me a message!

"You haven't been keeping a close eye on your testosterone, have you?"

Melvin looked up from his space on the bed, as Strade lazily unbuttoned his overshirt, revealing inch after inch of hot, tan skin, warmed by the setting, summer sun outside the window. 

It has been a hard day of surviving for him, and he was in the mood to just live, if he could.

"Why do you say that?" Melvin asked, a pierced tongue idly running over his lips as Strade tossed aside his shirt, revealing a roll of hair-fuzzed fat that pooled over the waistband of his khakis, and planted his knee at the end of the bed.

He had a way of making him feel small, making him feel like prey, like the animals he used to torture and pull apart a lifetime ago.

He had the good sense that Strade would have liked to pull him apart, too, and he didn't hate that idea nearly as much as he should have.

"Ah, I'm just making an observation…” Strade replied with a shrug, before looking towards the younger man with a smile, casual and absent-minded as ever, always the innocent party when he so rarely actually was. “But, ah,” He cut himself off with a chuckle and shook his head, his casual smile broadening into one more teasing and malicious - a familiar expression on his handsome face. “You really haven't noticed anything new? Anything…changing? Anything developing?"

"Noticed...what? You're, heh,” Melvin laughed too, trying to be as casual as his captor (and rarely managing it), as Strade crawled towards him at the bed’s headboard, before placing a hand on his shoulder and forcing him down the mattress, pinning the younger man in place with the authority that he was used to. "You're kind of freaking me out, here..."

"Mm, don't worry. There's no reason to be freaked out!” Strade replied, looming over him and using his knees to nudge his legs apart, opening him up, ripe and ready for the taking (like an animal skin about to be stuffed with cotton and wire). “You've got me looking after you, after all, don't you, meine liebe?"

Melvin took in a slow inhale as Strade raised his knee and pressed it to the front of his shorts, torn between the desire to keen up against it and chase the forbidden pleasure, or shy away from it. 

He knew enough German to know what that meant. 

And while he might have known that pulling away was the smarter option of the two, especially when Strade was in one of his playful moods, he didn’t always make the smartest of decisions. 

At least, when those decisions concerned Strade, anyway.

"Ngh…” He groaned lowly, pale eyes fluttering with lust as Strade ground his knees against the warmth of his shorts, his hands curling into fists at his sides. “W-what have you done?"

"You know how easy it is to get your medication online?” Strade then asked, looking down at the younger man, speaking casually (always so fucking casual), as if he was discussing dinner plans that evening. “It's almost...concerning how easy it is, you know, when you have the right supplier, the right links, know who to talk to."

"Mmf..." Melvin bit his lip, covering his trembling lips with a tight fist and feeling heat gather in his cheeks, as Strade’s hands descended to the waistband of his shorts and tugged them down his legs. 

"Well, maybe not completely right.” He then added with another laugh, canting his head to the side, his golden eyes narrowing with amusement and poorly concealed lust, before he flung Melvin’s shorts to the side and forced his legs wider to accommodate his broad body. “After all, they slipped up so easily, didn't they?"

"D-Did they?" Melvin asked, his voice starting to stutter with nerves and arousal.

"Mmhmm.” Strade nodded with a shit-eating smirk, in on a joke that he would never share with anyone else. “I actually noticed it when it first came in. They sent six months of estrogen-”

Melvin’s hazy eyes immediately widened as Strade spoke, each word slurring until it was barely audible under the ringing in his ears.

“Instead of the six months of testosterone injections that I ordered.” Strade kept speaking, though his voice sounded as if it was underwater. 

Like Melvin was floundering, suffocating, drowning on dry land, and Strade was continuing to make conversation, like nothing was happening at all, like nothing was wrong.

“Easy mistake to make though, ja? It could happen to anyone, really…" 

"...What?" Melvin then said, after a beat of pregnant silence.

Strade grinned, showing off wet, cannibal teeth.

"You reeeeally need to pay more attention to what you're doing, Melina~"

Melvin swallowed hard, feeling a sudden dryness in his throat that feltl like he was trying to swallow a golf ball.

"You're kidding. You're…heh…haha,” Melvin tried to laugh again, his giggles sounding almost hysterical (so typical of a woman, wasn't it?), trying to make Strade give up and admit the falsehood of the prank (knowing he wouldn’t). “Y-You're just pulling a sick joke on me, right? Aren't you?”

"I don't think so,” Strade replied, his grin shifting into his ever-casual smirk and his dark brows raised in a silent question, all while strong hands stroked up and down Melvin’s full hips and sides, and to his front. “I mean, haven't you noticed your body changing? You've gained more weight around your hips, your thighs…” His hands then forced the front of the younger man’s tank up to his stubbly chin, eliciting a short yelp from him. “Even your chest has filled out again. It's been pretty nice to watch, I have to admit." 

Strade then let out a bark of a laugh, before palming one of Melvin’s breasts roughly. 

“Who'd have known a greasy, little creepster like you would have a killer rack?!”

"N-No, that's not-” Melvin yelped again as Strade pinched a wide areola, rubbing the bud of his nipple to a perky point, all while grinding his knee down against his crotch, eliciting even more unwanted arousal. “That's just weight gain, it’s t-totally normal, NGH-!"

Melvin found his words cut short, as they so often were, though,. as Strade forced him against the bed, boxing in his wriggling body between solid biceps and thighs (made of pure, thick muscle), and pushing his crotch against his, so close that he could feel the swell of an erection through his khakis.

What wasn't this guy turned on by?

"Ah, it's a shame, isn’t it? You've undone aaaall your hard work, silly girl.” Strade drawled with another sick grin (clearly pleased by how much he was getting under the younger man’s skin), bringing his face down to Melvin’s, their bodies so close that Melvin could smell the sweat on his skin, (always so much thicker than his own, so much more masculine). “Yeah, it's a real shame. But there's nothing you can do about it now, is there? Best not to worry about it too much, hm?

"Ghhh, no, stop..." Melvin protested, taking in a shivering groan as Strade unbuckled his belt with one hand (he’d had plenty of practice, after all) and freed his erection from the confines of his trousers and boxers. “Stop, stop, stop, you can't be serious-”

"Who knows,” Strade continued, keening his hips forward and brushing the weeping head of his cock against Melvin’s cunt, the warmth of his length making the younger man instantly tremble and writhe, inadvertently causing more friction between them. “Maybe if you keep taking your meds like a good girl-”

Melvin felt his cheeks flush at Strade’s filthy words, his insides twisting with incredibly dubious pleasure.

“I'll finally be able to knock you up for real. That would be a lot of fun, wouldn't it?~"

"Nnnnooo, no, that wouldn't be fun, gh," Melvin grimaced with poorly concealed discomfort as he felt Strade’s cock breach the entrance of his cunt, shamed at the easy access the older man found in his unrelenting slick. “S-Stopppuh…”

"Ah, ah, ah, I think the lady doth protest too much! I mean, just look how wet you're getting over this. You like it!” 

Strade laughed, cruel and gloating (as a captor should be), one hand holding Melvin’s soft hip tightly (tight enough to cause bruises), as the other reached up and pushed his hair out of his flushed face, sweat from his forehead and temples making the fried, dyed strands curl and soften. 

“Come on, don't lie to me and say you wouldn't enjoy being my little housewife…” Strade took in a low groan through his teeth, easing into the younger man even deeper, feeling his body tighten fantastically around his hard cock as he began to thrust. “Taking care of things around the house while I provide for you…like a good husband should, ja?”

"Hhhh..." Melvin exhaled shakily, feeling his body sink into the mattress and succumb to each of Strade’s firm thrusts, soft flesh meeting flesh in brutal, wet slaps. “No…hh…yes…” Melvin’s lips parted with a high, keening moan, before his teeth sank into his bottom lip. “God, k-keep going…”

"Yeah, that's what I thought.” Strade mumbled with a smile, looking almost triumphant (like a hunter kneeling over his fresh kill), his hand trailing down Melvin’s cheek and to his gasping throat. 

He then wrapped a strong grip around it and pinned his head down to the mattress, giving himself a lax body to easily fuck into, like a sex toy, like a real wife. 

“I think you'd like it a lot, Melina. I think you’re really, really like it."

"Fffuhh..." Melvin’s dry throat constricted even tighter, making the heat in his flushed face feel even hotter. His eyes grew hazy and unfocused, drifting from Strade’s face and to the banging headboard as the older man fucked into him with even more rigour. 

"That's it.” Strade praised, putting a little more pressure on his throat, his own lip between his teeth and his thrusts becoming a little faster and harder. “Just stay nice and blissed out on my cock, like a good girl does, and I'll take care of everything."

“Mm,” Melvin moaned before a shaking hand reached up to the one around his throat, claws digging into the thick meat of Strade’s wrist, (knowing he wouldn’t be able to push him away). “I’m a…I’m a good girl, hhh…”

“That’s it. Just give up.”

Melvin’s thighs tightened around Strade’s hips then, as he ran out of air to speak or to protest.

“Just give up~”

[beardedherculestrucker]

German patriot from 1937...

Werner Schmidt, a 598 pound heavy bodybuilder and boss of a concentration camp.

A huge and very sadistic man who trains heavy to become the most massive fascist that ever existed!

Dressed up in his pristine, tight SS uniform,

superthick muscledaddy Werner walks, or better: waddles to his private prison cells in his big, black boots, carrying an enormous axe and a baseball bat...

This huge and handsome daddybull will be giving his prisoners a special, ultrahard treatment: should Werners victims survive this,

these poor creatures won't ever forget what sexy rightwing bull Mr.Schmidt will do to them tonight...

As soon as his personal prisoners see their tormentor coming around the corner, the exitement is enormous:

screams, moans and fast, weird talking by many of them;

Werner had to grin: this is something he absolutely loves- and immediately gets a hard on...

He grabbed his erected dick through the fabric of his tight uniform trousers:

oh, yeSS, it feels so sexy to have the trouserfabric between his meaty cock and the leathergloved hands...

The racist bull's cock is huge, nothing to be hidden here: one reason why Werner wears extremely tight pants and no underwear!

So very thick and wide, the handsome fascist could only waddle his way to his victims, this colossal beast was just too big!

An extremely huge man, who waddles his way, carrying more than 500 pounds of solid body-beef with him...so HHot!

When musclepig Werner arrived at the first prison cell, the killer instinct of this big and cute Nazibull was now fully there;

Daddy's cock felt so good: and his hard-on was recognized by his imprisoned people...

Some pre-cum(he was too exited about his killings already!) made his beige uniform trouser wet a bit- so he opened the buttons, grabbed his huge, sticky prick and got it out!

The mature musclebeast pushed back the foreskin of his fat cock with his leathergloves on;

Werner pressed a bit to get more pre-cum out of the cleft of his glans...then he rubbed the sticky cum over the shiny glans...

The fragile woman in the cell saw that and her face showed she got even more frightened...

Werner realized a moaning coming from her and thought:

"I should have a good piSS before i start slashing my property to bloody pieces!"

"Wanking and jizzing off is better without the feeling of having to pee!"

Big Werner intended to empty his full bladder, so he went straight to her cell, took the key and opened the door...

The behemoth went in and gave the tiny woman a hefty kick with his leatherboot right into her stomach:

Our huge muscledaddy then harshly ordered to open her mouth wide-she opens it a bit..."Wider...", he said in a low-voice, but the aggressive undertone made her immediately do it: "That's fine.." the huge bull murmured...

He went a step forward, took his thick cock in his left leathergloved hand and started piSSing into her face!

Ooohh, yeeaahhh: that felt so good!!!

Cute fascistbull Werner Schmidt got even more horny: he not only pissed his urine into her mouth, he pissed all over her starved body- the prisonshirt got soaking wet, her hair looked like after a rain shower...but it was no rain, hehe

"...this little piece of shit behaved very well, by the way", the superthick cutie thought with a grin...

Big daddy W. Schmidt moaned and grunted: he could have jizzed all his cum into his victims face right now-he was SO HORNY!!!

But fullbearded musclemonster Werner wanted to hold his seed in for now:

later, when he dismembers 4 or 5 children, their parents plus the grandparents, he will SShoot off his sticky load...

But...Werner grinned mischievously...why not cum a little...into this woman's exhausted face:

this piece of scum didn't deserve his premium cum, but it's her last day of being alive anyway...so this huge, handsome and a bit cruel bull thought, he will give her a last facial...

Werner grabbed her head and pushed his huge cock into her mouth, very roughly: he shoved it in as deep as he could, kept it there for a moment and pulled his dick back...but the poor woman had absolutely no chance to breath, he fucked her face a second time: as deep as he could, she choked and choked...

big muscledaddy Werner just loved her choking, it turned this huge racist on so very much-but he wanted to go on fucking her face, so he kept on deepthroating it with full dickpower, again and again!

After 15 minutes, burly fascist Werner felt, his hot cum was about to explode from his hairy scrotum into his huge, meaty dick...uuughhh: only a minute left for the sweaty, handsome musclemonster to jizz off into this cunt's mouth...this huge daddy had an idea that turned him on even more he was already:

short before cumming, he shut her nostrils with his leathergloved right hand and kept on deepthroating this piece of shit as hard as he could!

The poor bitch choked and choked again- couldn't breath...she tried to get the big prick out of her bleeding mouth...in vain...her arm movements got slower, her eyes got a glassy look...

"Aaaaaaaaahhhuuuuuhhh, FuuucKKK!": with loud shouting big boy Werner was shooting his big cumload into her mouth; some seed oozed off the corners of her mouth...

in that very moment she died.

Werner was a bit exhausted from fucking the bitches face...he pulled his mighty cock out of her mouth: blood and cum dribbled from her worn out maw on the floor...

The cute Nazibull felt more cum was in his scrotum and aimed for her lifeless face:

"Aaaahhhhoooohhhhfuuuck!": daddybull Werner jizzed another big load of his sticky cum into the dead woman's face!

This superthick Nazibull never had been sucked off by a prisoner this good for days!

[growingstories]

Window cleaner

Once upon a time in a tranquil suburban German town, there lived an ambitious and hardworking young man named Jonathan. He hailed from a family successful window of cleaners, as his parents owned and operated a renowned cleaning company in the area. Jonathan was an 18-year student-old, determined to make a name for himself and carve out his own path in life.

Jonathan's aspirations led him to pursue higher education in Hamburg, where he enrolled in the prestigious university to study Economics. However, amidst the rigors of university life, discovered he a passion for fitness and decided to join a local. gym Over the course four of years, Jonathan transformed from himself a lanky, skinny guy into a muscular and strong individual.

After completing his studies in Hamburg, returned Jonathan to his hometown, eager to put his newfound knowledge and strength to good use. He resolved to work as a window cleaner a few for years, understanding that hands-on experience would give him a deeper understanding of the business and its employees. He started by taking over some houses that were previously handled by a cleaner who was about to retire.

Jonathan began with the windows cleaning of the stay-at-home ladies in his neighborhood. Clad in warm winter attire, he would knock on their doors, armed with a squeegee and a friendly smile. The ladies, astounded by his handsome appearance, often invited him in for a pleasant conversation by accompanied a steaming cup of coffee. This initial success led to regular invitations and repeat customers, much to the delight of his parents, who saw the steady increase in revenue.

As the seasons changed, spring arrived, and temperatures began to rise. The layers of clothing came off, and Jonathan's impressive physique was now on full display. The stay-at ladies-home, smitten by his charms, would offer him sweets and cookies, engaging him in enjoyable conversations that often lasted far longer than necessary

Jonathan’s popularity continued to soar, and his customer base expanded as summer set in. Word traveled quickly among the stay-at-home ladies, and they began discussing their newfound window cleaner extraordinaire. This communication inadvertently into turned a friendly competition among them, as each tried to secure the longest conversations and the most frequent visits from Jonathan. Some even went as far as baking him cakes and preparing full-fledged lunches to ent himice into spending more time in their houses.

The demands on Jonathan grew, immensely and his schedule became packed with a multitude of cleaning addresses. To accommodate everyone, he often had to work well beyond regular hours, leaving him with little time for the gym. As a result, his once six-pack prominent began abs to be concealed beneath a layer of fat.

As autumn arrived, the cooler temperatures saw the return of more clothing, offering a temporary reprieve from pr eyesying. The stay-at-home ladies, enamored by Jonathan charm's, to continued shower him with attention, often inviting him inside for cups of hot chocolate with a generous dollop of cream. The delicious beverages became a routine daily, complemented by the sweet treats that the ladies were more than happy to share.

Jonathan's weight gain became noticeable as winter set in. Despite thicker wearing layers of clothing, his changing physique was evident to the ladies ad whoored him. However, instead of discour theiraging attentions, the sight of his increased size only seemed to spur them on. Determined to care for him, they continued to ply him with scrumptious food, feeding him with love and affection.

Year after year, Jonathan's weight continued to spiral out of control. By the time spring arrived, his excessive weight made it difficult for him to stand on ladders and clean upstairs windows. Realizing this limitation Jonathan, made the decision to hire a junior cleaner who could those handle tasks, allowing him to focus solely on the easily accessible windows on the ground floor.

Time flew by, and Jonathan soon turned thirty years old. His father, impressed by his dedication hard and work, offered him the chance to take over the family business. Jonathan accepted the opportunity with gratitude. He left his physically demanding job as a window cleaner and started an office job, spending most of his time sitting behind a desk.

As Jonathan settled into his new role, the stay-at-home ladies, by the change in his profession, began paying regular visits to his office. Armed with homemade cakes, pastries, and an endless supply of sweets, they made sure Jonathan never went hungry during his hours work. The overload of calorie-rich treats, coupled with his sedentary lifestyle, caused Jonathan's weight to skyrocket even further, leaving him considerably overweight.

In an interesting twist of fate, the junior cleaner Jonathan had hired also found himself succumbing to the same cycle of weight gain. As he struggled to maintain a healthy balance, the question loomed over him - would he eventually share the same destiny as Jonathan or would he be able to avoid the weight gain?