bean cream oh yeah

simon was just going about his day-off as usual, running errands he had been procrastinating for weeks. he owned multiple nice cars, as owning autoshops across town granted him the wealth to be able to do so, and today he was cruising around in his face.

when you happened.

it was your fault that you'd crashed. young and reckless, not thinking about your actions until the consequences manifested in a crumpled hood against the side of another car. a nice, expensive car.

simon was pissed. he knew full well how reckless people could be on the road. hell, he used to drive like them, but he wasn't expecting it to land him in this scenario. he jumped out of his car, fist clenched with rage and ready to tear the other driver a new one.

and stopped dead when he saw you. rage simmered to irritation because the fear in your eyes, airbags deployed around you. your hair was a mess, tears streaming down those full cheeks. simon knew anger wasn't the answer.

so he approached your car, leaning in the rolled down window with a gruff question. "you 'right?"

a soft gasp left your pretty lips, not expecting him to be at your door side so quick. you had seen the manner in which he left his car, mentally preparing for a verbal beat down.

words started spewing from your mouth. apology after apology. "I'm so sorry, it's all my fault, I'll pay–"

"that wasn't my question." he cut you off, blunt and harsh. "are you okay?"

he stuns you. doesn't he care about the car you just wrecked? it looks nice, expensive, and way out of your tax bracket. he should be yelling, berating you, scolding you for the recklessness that caused the crash. instead he's asking if you're okay?

you manage a slight nod. "I'm fine." despite that being far from the truth, there were bigger things to worry about.

yet he calls you out anyways. "yer not. yer shaking', nose's bleedin', and you've got a nasty bruise forming." his eyes scan over you again. "stay in yer car, paramedics'll be here soon."

you listen to his advice, seeing as there's nothing dangerous happening with the car that would force you to get out. it would prevent further injury you'd be paying for.

meanwhile simon turns to ring up his buddy who works for a towing company, calling in a favor to retrieve his and your car to tow back to his shop.

when the paramedics take you away after a once over to simon—deeming him healthy enough, but stressing the importance of a checkup if anything feels funny—he leaves and gets to work.

he spends all day at his shop, working and repairing the car for the sweet, reckless thing that plowed through his car. simon wasn't blind, could tell this car meant something to you, with the panic in your eyes as you looked back at the crash site before being taken in the ambulance.

by the end of the workday, he was finished, waiting around for you to show. he had exchanged information after calling for a tow, texting you when he had finally finished the repair work.

and there you walked in, still a little banged up but just as gorgeous as before. your looks floored simon, which is probably what compelled him to do this. he's easy.

you began rummaging in your purse. "what do I owe you?" you didn't have much, and simon knew.

which is why you were settled on your knees, working up his thick cock with two hands in the middle of his shop. a bead of pre dripped from his slit. the length of him was slick with saliva thag you spat in your palm, twisting your wrist as you gave him his preferred payment.

because this was a common occurrence, which you didn't know, but his mechanic mates did. they weren't phased by the site of a girl taking simon, as it was just another form of payment he offered. he's the owner, he can do what he wants.

guiding the bulbous tip of his cock to your lips, he urged you to take him in your mouth, to suck him off with the audience of his mechanics. you did it, you had to in order to get your repairs for free. you'd be lying if you said you weren't soaking through your panties.

"yeah, that's it." he grunts in praise, forcing inch by inch into your mouth, whether or not you could take it. he smiled a perverse smile as you gagged around him. "lil' deeper, there ya go. atta girl, show m'how eager ya are to make it up t'me."

head bobbing, you swallowed as much of his cock as you could, despite your gag reflex and the way his tip punched the back of your throat.

"show me those pretty eyes." he ordered, and you obeyed. his hand slide around the back of your head, using the leverage to push you down further. "such a good cocksucker, 'nd I bet yer pussy's just as good at takin' cock."

his dirty words do nothing but turn you on further, except he won't get to fuck you properly. as soon as he cums, he smears the excess cum on your lips before tucking himself back in his jeans and sending you off with your car. the glare you send him makes his dick twitch because they all do that when he makes them leave.

just me and the newfound fantasy of being choked— maybe recently I just discovered how disgusting i can be. thats fun (⁠ʃ⁠ƪ⁠＾⁠3⁠＾⁠）

MDNI 18+

cw: creampie, riding, cockwarming to fucking, light choking

—

What's so good other than being in your husband's embrace during a cold winter night, when your fingertips freezing, even your breath feels like they came out of the freezer. Yup, there is—cockwarming him and watched as his chest rose and fell each time you squeezed around his cock. His strong arms cupped the under of your thighs, fingers digging into the plush of your flesh.

"Mmm, what gets you so fuckin' wet, sweetheart?" His voice warms against your ear, kissing you lightly as he lets you drag yourself up and down his cock in lazy motions.

Cockwarming is just an excuse, you just wanna fuck yourself on him, thanks to him being so hella delicious in those rolled-up sleeve and half-buttoned shirt. Damn it, you could just fall for any thirst trap if he ever gets you to one. "Oh, don't ask shit as if you're clueless, Lieutenant," you said with a scoff, capturing his lower lip and biting them gently, "just you, basically."

Simon grunted when your walls clenched hard and slammed yourself down, your cunt swallowing him whole. "Ugh—huh," the spark in his eyes lit up the mischief behind his grin, when he rolled his hips back up, his pelvis deliciously grinding against your clit and keeping you still on top of him.

"Unghh—shit—f-fuuck—"

Your words stammered out, while he watched you in ragged pants, observing your expression change into melting bliss; eyes rolling back with your jaw slack, tongue lolling out from the motion he pound his cock inside you. "That good? Hit the spot, huh?"

The question followed with another sharp thrust, making you shudder and whimper, a sticky glob of pleasure trickling down his shaft onto his balls, making a sticky mess of your arousal on the leather cushion. Everything felt burning, hotter—his hips keep that furiously steady grinding against your clit, while ensuring to thrust, thrust, his cock deeper until kissing your sweet spot repeatedly.

"Siiiimoon!"

A long moan of his name followed after, when he kept you still on top of him, letting him fuck you from beneath. Your thighs were already shaking, sore, and aching from the position, yet he continued to spread them wide open. "Yes, yes, just like that—hnghh—so fucking gorgeous, love."

Somewhat his praise makes you warmer, the tingly promise of your orgasm made you start to move you hips up and down rapidly. "Ngghh! Yesyesyesyess—ahhnn!" Now you're a mess of rambles and moans, as you fuck yourself on him.

It worked incredibly well; Simon was getting harder, one thumb moving to rub your clit with fast strokes that makes you clench even tighter around his cock it choked him. "Oh ffuck—good girl, keep clenching like that—love—" He grunted, rubbing your clit faster until you mewl, your walls clenching—squeezing and milking his cock mercilessly.

"Please—ahh!—don't stop—"

Your fingers are clawing on his shoulder, digging deep into the skin through the fabric, as your hips rapidly moving up and down, taking control over the pace. It was a lie if Simon didn't get so turned on, watching you getting all lost in lust, his own climax already close—his cock throbbing when his hand moved to your neck; wrapping his fingers around your throat.

That was when your eyes widened in surprise, your pace faltering, before Simon continued with a rough snap upwards, making you jolt. "Anghh! Si—"

"Stay still," he growled, keeping you in place as he fucked you harder, rougher, the pace messy and erratic—but your walls were already clenching too tightly around his cock, making every drag a delicious friction against your sweet spot.

Your vision turned white when his grip tightened, your hands immediately clawing his forearm, as a long, breathless moan escaped your throat. Right then, he guided you down hard, meeting his thrust with a heavy smack, keeping you still on his cock—but with your walls clenching like vice; wrapping, squeezing, fluttering—Simon broke.

"Fuck me—" Simon burst inside you, pumping load after load, stuffing you full of his seed. "Take it, take it, love."

As he kept you impaled on his cock, your clit throbbed against his pelvis, each subtle movement sending sparks of pleasure that makes your hips twitch—and your orgasm hit right after him, leaving your eyes rolled back from the bliss of pleasure. The clench from your orgasm made his hips jerk upward, lightly thrusting up into you with a breathless moan of his own.

"That's it..." A kiss pressed to your temple as he catches his breath, keeping his lips pressed against your temple, while his hand remained wrapped around your throat. The lack of protest you gave him made him grin a little, before whispering in your ear, "you like it when I held you like this while fucking, wife?"

Oh, when your walls immediately clench at the question and he just chuckles darkly like... yeah, you like it.

—

just me and the newfound fantasy of being choked— maybe recently I just discovered how disgusting i can be. thats fun (⁠ʃ⁠ƪ⁠＾⁠3⁠＾⁠）

MDNI 18+

cw: creampie, riding, cockwarming to fucking, light choking

—

What's so good other than being in your husband's embrace during a cold winter night, when your fingertips freezing, even your breath feels like they came out of the freezer. Yup, there is—cockwarming him and watched as his chest rose and fell each time you squeezed around his cock. His strong arms cupped the under of your thighs, fingers digging into the plush of your flesh.

"Mmm, what gets you so fuckin' wet, sweetheart?" His voice warms against your ear, kissing you lightly as he lets you drag yourself up and down his cock in lazy motions.

Cockwarming is just an excuse, you just wanna fuck yourself on him, thanks to him being so hella delicious in those rolled-up sleeve and half-buttoned shirt. Damn it, you could just fall for any thirst trap if he ever gets you to one. "Oh, don't ask shit as if you're clueless, Lieutenant," you said with a scoff, capturing his lower lip and biting them gently, "just you, basically."

Simon grunted when your walls clenched hard and slammed yourself down, your cunt swallowing him whole. "Ugh—huh," the spark in his eyes lit up the mischief behind his grin, when he rolled his hips back up, his pelvis deliciously grinding against your clit and keeping you still on top of him.

"Unghh—shit—f-fuuck—"

Your words stammered out, while he watched you in ragged pants, observing your expression change into melting bliss; eyes rolling back with your jaw slack, tongue lolling out from the motion he pound his cock inside you. "That good? Hit the spot, huh?"

The question followed with another sharp thrust, making you shudder and whimper, a sticky glob of pleasure trickling down his shaft onto his balls, making a sticky mess of your arousal on the leather cushion. Everything felt burning, hotter—his hips keep that furiously steady grinding against your clit, while ensuring to thrust, thrust, his cock deeper until kissing your sweet spot repeatedly.

"Siiiimoon!"

A long moan of his name followed after, when he kept you still on top of him, letting him fuck you from beneath. Your thighs were already shaking, sore, and aching from the position, yet he continued to spread them wide open. "Yes, yes, just like that—hnghh—so fucking gorgeous, love."

Somewhat his praise makes you warmer, the tingly promise of your orgasm made you start to move you hips up and down rapidly. "Ngghh! Yesyesyesyess—ahhnn!" Now you're a mess of rambles and moans, as you fuck yourself on him.

It worked incredibly well; Simon was getting harder, one thumb moving to rub your clit with fast strokes that makes you clench even tighter around his cock it choked him. "Oh ffuck—good girl, keep clenching like that—love—" He grunted, rubbing your clit faster until you mewl, your walls clenching—squeezing and milking his cock mercilessly.

"Please—ahh!—don't stop—"

Your fingers are clawing on his shoulder, digging deep into the skin through the fabric, as your hips rapidly moving up and down, taking control over the pace. It was a lie if Simon didn't get so turned on, watching you getting all lost in lust, his own climax already close—his cock throbbing when his hand moved to your neck; wrapping his fingers around your throat.

That was when your eyes widened in surprise, your pace faltering, before Simon continued with a rough snap upwards, making you jolt. "Anghh! Si—"

"Stay still," he growled, keeping you in place as he fucked you harder, rougher, the pace messy and erratic—but your walls were already clenching too tightly around his cock, making every drag a delicious friction against your sweet spot.

Your vision turned white when his grip tightened, your hands immediately clawing his forearm, as a long, breathless moan escaped your throat. Right then, he guided you down hard, meeting his thrust with a heavy smack, keeping you still on his cock—but with your walls clenching like vice; wrapping, squeezing, fluttering—Simon broke.

"Fuck me—" Simon burst inside you, pumping load after load, stuffing you full of his seed. "Take it, take it, love."

As he kept you impaled on his cock, your clit throbbed against his pelvis, each subtle movement sending sparks of pleasure that makes your hips twitch—and your orgasm hit right after him, leaving your eyes rolled back from the bliss of pleasure. The clench from your orgasm made his hips jerk upward, lightly thrusting up into you with a breathless moan of his own.

"That's it..." A kiss pressed to your temple as he catches his breath, keeping his lips pressed against your temple, while his hand remained wrapped around your throat. The lack of protest you gave him made him grin a little, before whispering in your ear, "you like it when I held you like this while fucking, wife?"

Oh, when your walls immediately clench at the question and he just chuckles darkly like... yeah, you like it.

—

simon hesitates. “…ma’am?”

“you heard me.”

the older woman disappears before he can argue. riley riley looks up at him like well?

simon exhales. “alright,” he mutters, and follows.

inside, mrs. henderson’s house is warm and immaculate. simon steps in as riley riley pads in cautiously, tail low but curious.

“shoes,” the older lady’s voice leave no room for argument.

simon obeys instantly.

she gestures toward a small sitting room. “sit.”

simon sits.

she disappears into the kitchen without another word.

simon perches on the edge of the couch like he’s in a briefing room. back straight. hands on his knees. riley riley settles at his feet.

mrs. henderson returns with two delicate teacups on a tray. she hands one to him. “tea,” she says.

simon nods politely. “thank you.”

her own riley pads in carefully, no jumping, no chaos and immediately lowers himself beside her walker like he’s on guard duty. mrs. henderson reaches down to scratch behind his ear. “there’s a good boy,” she murmurs. her riley leans into it with dignified restraint. not a single bark.

simon watches this betrayal in silence. he takes a sip of the tea then. half distracted by the sight he doesn’t smell it. but once the taste hits his tongue there’s no denying, it’s bourbon. he clears his throat and swallows.

mrs. henderson nods approvingly at her dog “he’s very good today,” she says.

“yes, ma’am.”

“wasn’t yesterday.”

simon almost smiles. “he just got a little excited. doesn’t know his size.”

mrs. henderson studies him.

“you live alone?”

“yes, ma’am.”

her riley inches closer to her, resting his chin gently against her knee. simon wants to tell him he’s laying it on a little thick. instead he just smiles at the dog. he leans down to pat his own riley.

“lonely?”

simon doesn’t answer straight away. “…sometimes,” he admits.

mrs. henderson hums.

“she’s good company,” she says, nodding towards his riley. she then looks to her own riley. “as is this guy.”

simon understands.

“my neighbour is also lonely sometimes…”

“oh?” simon blushes. he looks down as he asks, “what about their friend? the one with the loud car?”

Gaz splits up the work. He’s determined to make it so that neither of you feels the burden of the sin. Any killing, butchery, and cooking is done in equal parts. He’s of a rational mind— he’s good at convincing you that there really is no other choice, that it isn’t wrong. And he puts up a decently strong front, as if he isn’t any more than a bit perturbed. He desperately doesn’t want to seem like he needs comfort. But he has terrible dreams of being his knock-kneed, seven year old self again, and being terrified to look down at the plate his mother has placed in front of him— the stark red against the white of the milk glass plate and the faded pastels of the floral tablecloth.

Soap is blessed with the ability to turn his mind off when he sets to a task. As such, he takes on the work. It doesn’t occur to him to hide it from you, either. You know as well as he does that there’s only so many options left, and even fewer that would keep you strong. He’s not a particularly skilled butcher, but any work that requires snipping and precision is a bit like defusing an explosive, right? And cooking, killing— he can do those things in his sleep too. It gets scary. He’ll come back with pounds of flesh and not be able to tell you exactly what happened because all of these days are blending, and so little of him is present when he sets to work. Deep inside, he’s afraid that one day he’ll snap back to reality with you opened up in front of him.

There’s a certain brittle core that exists within Simon. It’s rolled around in him, tapping his vertebrae, crackling and flaking little bits off of it gradually. It’s only in this crisis that you see the black, oozing center revealed. His bezoar. The thing that lets him drink venom like it was sherry. In any hardship, he can find pleasure, if he can only dig his fingers deep enough. He will kill for you, and he makes sure that you know every sordid detail. He will make sure that you thank him. Thank him for feeding you. Thank him for keeping you alive. Thank him for showing you the greatest sin. When he’s pleased with you, he’ll cut off the heads before bringing the body home so you don’t have to see their faces.

Price sees this as another burden of leadership. It’s a decision he’s chosen to shoulder alone. He will not go to great pains to hide what he’s doing— if you know what’s good for you, you won’t pry. He does not tell you what you’re eating, but his eyes tell you that you shouldn’t dare to ask. It’s like knowing where your parents have hidden the Christmas presents. You could find out what they are, and know the truth… but you have this sinking feeling that you wouldn’t be the better for it. That something, irreparably, would change if that boundary was crossed. It’s enough to keep you willfully ignorant… for now.

In reference to [this] post, lets talk about how each of readers concubines were aquired and what they do!

Johnny mactavish: he previously served as a knight under your guard, highly favored by you and would have been a captain had he not lost half his hearing in a near-fatal dual. He was your first concubine, and being that he already liked you beforehand, he's the most eager to lie with you. Also enjoys voyeurism, so he's the one the public sees most often (though in more fabrics than he usually wears)

Kyle garrick: he requested to be taken as a concubine when you claimed his captain, john price. Though you have made the offer clear, he has yet to lie with you. He's still more than happy to give you a show when you want to see price really cry, and is just as eager to watch you have your way with his captain. You'll probably allow them to marry as a gift for his birthday next winter.

John price: a captain you've been eyeing for years, and finally claimed after his kingdom surrendered. His cute right-hand was a nice bonus. He had sustained a broken leg in battle, but after that healed he's been a favourite of yours for nights when you just want to be taken apart completely. You've found leather looks best on him, with ornate metal embellishments. With johnny locked up he's the one taking the brunt of your desire, leaving him exhausted...he likes it though.

Simon riley: forfeit as a war prize by his kingdom, he's your newest concubine. You have yet to lie with him, if he ever will, but delight in the sight of him alone. Large, thick, with curves that suit his silk perfectly. Though you have given him the most 'modest' clothing, it does nothing to disguise the equipment he's working with. The others help him settle down into his new life. you've caught him and soap once before in the hallway, so you expect him to warm up to you soon.

You hear all about his hot teammates and how they ruin him nightly, and he hears all about the new toy you've decided to try out or the occasional dissapointing hook-up.

So really, when soap gifts you a dildo for your birthday, you have no reason to be suspicious.

It'd bigger than the usual realistic ones you see, definitely on the heavier side of your collection and no doubt in reference to the guy you had been recently telling soap about who talked up his dick size far too much. You run your hands over the jacobs ladder piercing, five neat barbells "you peirce this yourself?"

"Aye," soap nods, grinning when he reaches out to run a hand over a prominent vein "sculpted it myself too, took a lot of work."

"Awww," you smile, giving soap a knowing look "probably because you were doing it with one hand, whore."

Soap only snorts, kicking your ankle "fuck you, slag"

Later, after giving it a thorough test run that had you reaching for it every single night, you finally message Johnny about how damn good it is. How the barbells are amazing, how you've never cum that hard from just a dildo before.

Only for soap to send you a photo of some guy standing in a grocery isle. He's wearing a balaclava and baggy hoodie that does nothing to disguise how deliciously beefy and plump he is. At the angle, you can clearly see a bulge in his pants.

Attached to the photo is soaps text "I've got the model with me if you want to give the real thing a try ;)"

work with me.

something something, Simon sees you at a bar all dressed in pink and acting shy around other people and gets intrigued. He buys you a drink, the gentleman he is, and you simply stare at him, the hulking man in the scary mask, before throwing back the drink in one gulp.

Oh. Oh. Now that peaked Simon's interest.

He walked over to you, your friends all but abandoning you the second he started walking over. You blink up at him with big, adoring eyes as Simon buys you another drink.

Eyes that Simon finds himself getting lost in as he drives the two of you home, hand on your thigh, the truck silent as he autopilots to his flat. What a risky move, trusting a man like him to take you somewhere other than a dingy bathroom in the bar.

When Simon pushes open the door of his flat, he's on you instantly, lips locking against yours as he presses you against the wall. His hands roam your body, gripping your hips as he slots his knee between your thighs, listening to you moan and whimper as you rut against him.

He thinks he knows what this is, just a quick fuck with the pretty girl in pink that he met at the bar, that is, until his hands brush your chest and you mewl rather loudly. Now what did he have here.

He scoops you into his arms, carrying you to his bed as he gently tosses you onto your back. Kicking off his boots, Simon walks over to the bed before he gets on the bed, caging you between his arms.

It takes Simon taking off your dress, letting your tits free, before he realizes. In the pale moonlight shining through the curtains, Simon sees them.

Silver bars, pink jewels at the end. Nipple piercings.

His shy little girl, the one with a metal-less face and no tattoos, had nipple piercings.

Oh he was so whipped.