older bf!simon riley who has a nasty corruption kink but has to hold himself back around his virgin/inexperienced partner.
He's practically vibrating with need when he steps into your apartment, forcing himself to be gentle with you when he places a kiss on your cheek, not trying to shove his tongue in your throat and lick at your molars.
And now he's lying in your ridiculous bed with you asleep in his big, burly arms, who even needs this many pillows and blankets, are you really that cold? Poor Simon's balls are so tight and heavy from just a little bit of cuddling and kissing, but he'd never wake up his sweet love and ask you for help. No, he has to take it slow with you, let you set the pace and come to him when you want.
Also, he already knows the first time he finally gets his hand on you, it's not gonna last very long, his swollen tip spurting thick ropes of cum inside your warm, wet hole only after sinking in an inch :(
Now Simon has to go to work without cumming after visiting his lovely partner.
His cock is in a permanent semi-chub on base, his balls so fat and heavy with cum that was meant for you. Poor guy is just grunting and growling at everyone, acting like a proper bitch on base, barking out orders and making the rookies run extra laps for even looking at him.
Even poor Soap is walking on eggshells seeing how agitated and cranky Simon is, watching him adjust himself in his jeans.
Simon's gotta take 5 to furiously jerk off in the bathroom, staring at a picture of you he keeps in his wallet :)
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Simon who doesn't know how to ask for your affection!
It's not that he thinks it's stupid for a grown man like him to ask for something so...childish like cuddles and kisses. What is he? A five year old? He rarely got hugs and kisses from his own mum, he doesn't need it.
It's not like he'll die without it. He'll just wait for you to initiate, like you always do.
Except you're way too busy right now, too caught up in whatever you're doing to even notice he's been standing there and staring at you for the past five minutes.
He's been debating the whole time if he should just ask you for a kiss, but his feet and mouth refused to cooperate with him, leaving him hanging there to stare at you.
"Hm? Did you need anything?" You ask, finally noticing him as you wonder how long he's been there. Must've been a while.
He shook his head instinctively, but his lips formed a thin line and his face held a displeased look. It looked like his words were trapped in his throat.
Luckily for him, you could read him like a book now. It wasn't easy since it didn't come with some sort of manual or tutorial, but it was definitely worth it since you knew that this meant he wanted a kiss from you.
"Do you want a kiss?" You ask again, looking up at him expectantly.
God, you don't think you've seen anyone nod that fast.
(dis was written in like five minutes i havent written for cod in a good while i havent refreshed yet dis is bad)
Simon Riley who's so enraptured when fucking you that he completely blocks out anything else. It's an entire ordeal, a hyper fixation on both your pleasure and his. Doesn't matter if it's fingers, mouth or cock, his focus is honed in, even if you call his name.
"S-Si–" "–Busy, luv."
Vs
Johnny MacTavish who's got his cock stuffed so deep in your throat that you're struggling to not gag - but he doesn't notice. His attention was drawn elsewhere when he noticed the necklace you wore and he rambled about the significance of specific types of metals in jewelry until you finally slap his thigh, bringing his focus back to you.
Warnings: smut, Dex being obsessive, fluff, possibly ooc?
The first time Benjamin Pointdexter let himself into your apartment, it was because you’d left your keys dangling from the lock on the outside of the door. He’d stood in the hallway for a long moment, head tilted, listening to the silence beyond the scuffed wood. Irresponsible. Dangerous. Anyone could have walked in. Someone with intentions far less pure than his.
He turned the knob and stepped inside, pocketing the keys.
“Hey there,” he called softly, moving through your small, cluttered living room. A half-empty mug of tea sat on the coffee table, a thin skin of milk forming on the surface. A throw blanket puddled on the floor. Your phone was wedged between two couch cushions, screen dark, probably dead. You’d lose your head if it wasn’t attached.
He found you in the bedroom, face-down on top of the covers, still in your work clothes. A pale blue skirt crumpled around your thighs. One shoe on, one shoe kicked halfway across the room. You stirred when he sat on the edge of the mattress, the dip of his weight pulling a groggy murmur from your lips.
“Ben?”
“Your keys were in the door.” He kept his voice gentle, no judgment. Just a fact. “Anyone could have come in.”
You blinked up at him, sleep-soft and confused, and the look you gave him was so trusting it made something tighten pleasantly in his chest. “Oh. Sorry. I was so tired.”
“I know you were, sweetheart. Long day?”
You nodded, rubbing at your eye with the heel of your palm. He reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear before you could poke yourself in the face. You smiled at him, small and grateful, and he felt the warmth of it settle behind his sternum like a coin dropped into a well.
That was three months ago.
Now, your keys lived on a hook by the door that he had installed. Your phone buzzed with good morning texts at 7:15 sharp, followed by a reminder to eat breakfast, followed by a check-in at noon. You had a shared calendar that chirped with color-coded blocks of time: work, grocery runs, laundry, and on Saturdays and Sundays, outings with him. Museums, parks, that little bakery you’d mentioned once in passing that did the shortbread you liked. He wrote it all down. He remembered everything. You just blinked those sweet, absent eyes at him and said thank you, Dex, you’re so good to me, and let him fold you into his life.
This morning, you were running late.
He stood in your kitchen, leaning against the counter, watching you scramble from bedroom to bathroom to living room in a flutter of nervous energy. You’d misplaced your work badge. Again.
“Check the drawer by the fridge,” he called, and you veered off course, and there it was, right where he’d put it last night after he’d found it on the bathroom floor.
“Oh my god, you’re a lifesaver,” you breathed, clutching it to your chest. “I’d be lost without you.”
Yes. You would.
“Come on,” he said, pushing off the counter and grabbing his car keys. “I’ll drive you.”
The drive was quiet, comfortable. He kept one hand on the wheel and the other on your thigh, his palm warm through the thin fabric of your pale blue skirt. You didn’t tense up anymore when he touched you there. You’d gotten used to it. That was good. That was progress.
His fingers crept higher, slow and casual, like they had a mind of their own. The hem of your skirt bunched under his knuckles. You kept staring out the window, tapping at your phone, probably forgetting to text your boss about the morning meeting. He’d remind you later.
He pressed against the seam of your cotton underwear, the fabric soft and worn from too many washes. You shifted in your seat, thighs pressing together for a moment before relaxing again. A little sigh escaped you, barely audible over the hum of the engine.
“Ben,” you murmured, not quite a protest. Ben, instead of Dex. A peculiar habit of yours.
“S’okay,” he said. “Just relax.”
You did.
He pulled into the parking lot of your office building and killed the engine. Before you could reach for the door handle, he cupped your chin and turned your face toward him. He pressed a kiss to your left cheek, then your right, then the tip of your nose. You giggled, a shy little sound that made his grip tighten on your jaw.
“Turn your head,” he murmured.
You did, obedient and trusting, and he kissed you properly. Slow. Thorough. His tongue traced the seam of your lips until you opened for him with a soft, surprised sound. He tasted the mint of your toothpaste and the faint sweetness of the orange juice he’d poured for you an hour ago.
When he pulled back, your eyes were glassy. Your lip gloss was ruined.
“Good girl,” he said. “I’ll pick you up at five. Don’t wander off.”
You nodded, dazed, and stumbled out of the car.
He watched you until you disappeared through the revolving doors.
The evening was warm, the last dregs of sunlight painting the city in shades of amber and rose. He was waiting for you outside your building when you got off the bus, because of course you’d forgotten he was picking you up. You’d taken the bus instead of waiting. You apologized three times on the walk up to your apartment, and he hushed you each time, thumb stroking the back of your hand.
“I’m not mad,” he said, and meant it. He wasn’t mad. He just made a mental note to pick you up directly at your desk tomorrow.
Inside your apartment, he settled on your worn-out couch while you kicked off your heels with a groan of relief. He’d stopped at the corner store on his way over and picked up a cone of ice-cream, your favorite, and he held it out to you now like an offering.
“For being good,” he said.
Your face lit up. You padded over to him, barefoot now, and reached for the cone. He caught your wrist and tugged you down onto his lap instead.
“Dex!”
“Go on,” he said, nodding at the ice cream. “Eat it before it melts.”
You straddled his thighs, knees sinking into the couch cushions on either side of his hips. Tentatively, you leaned forward and licked a stripe up the side of the cone. A bead of melted cream dripped onto your fingers, and you hurried to catch it with your tongue.
He watched, enraptured. The way your lips pursed. The flicker of your tongue. The blissful flutter of your lashes.
His hand found the hem of your skirt again, but this time there was no barrier of a car console, no steering wheel to work around. Just the warm give of your thighs and the damp cotton between them.
You gasped when his fingers slid beneath the elastic, ice cream momentarily forgotten.
“Keep going,” he coaxed, and you did, shaky and distracted, licking at the cone while he pushed two fingers inside you. You were already wet. You were always so responsive, so ready for him, even when you didn’t realize it yourself. Your hips twitched, trying to rock into his hand, and he tutted softly.
“Easy. Let me take care of you.”
You whimpered, head dropping forward, and a dollop of ice cream splattered onto his shirt. You made a mortified little noise, but he only laughed, low and fond.
“Messy girl. That’s alright. I’ve got you.”
He curled his fingers, thumb circling your clit with practiced precision. Your mouth fell open, cone tilting dangerously in your grip. He reached up with his free hand and steadied it, guiding it back to your lips.
“Don’t waste it.”
You took a shaky lick, then another, and then you were coming apart on his fingers with a broken moan, your body clenching and fluttering around him. He worked you through it, murmuring praise against your temple, his lips brushing your skin with every syllable.
“That’s it. Good girl. So good for me.”
The ice cream was melting properly now, dripping down the cone and over your knuckles, but you didn’t seem to notice. Your eyes were half-lidded, your breathing ragged. He took the ruined cone from your hand and set it aside on the end table, licking the sticky residue from your and his own fingers.
Then he lifted you, just enough to free himself from his jeans, and guided you back down onto his cock.
The sound you made was his favorite thing in the world. A high, breathy keen that caught in your throat and stuttered into a moan. He let you sink down at your own pace, hands steady on your hips, watching your face the whole time. Your brows pinched. Your lips parted. Your eyes squeezed shut and then flew open again, meeting his.
“There you go,” he breathed. “Taking me so well.”
He started slow. Gentle bounces that barely lifted you off him, just enough to feel the drag of you, the slick heat. Your hands found his shoulders and clung. Your skirt bunched around your waist, pale blue fabric crushed between your bodies.
When you squirmed, restless, impatient, chasing something you didn’t know how to name, he tightened his grip and snapped his hips up harder. You cried out, nails digging into his shoulders.
“Uh-uh,” he crooned, kissing the corner of your mouth. “You squirm, you get it harder. That’s the rule.”
You squirmed again, on purpose this time, testing.
He grinned against your cheek. “Oh, you want it harder, sweetheart?”
You nodded frantically, and he gave it to you, bouncing you on his cock with a rhythm that had the couch creaking and your breath sawing out in sharp, punched-out gasps. He felt you tighten around him, fluttering on the edge, and he pressed his thumb to your clit again, a quick, relentless pressure that sent you tumbling over.
You came with a sob, burying your face in his neck, and he followed a moment later with a low groan, spilling into you while you trembled in his arms.
He stroked your back through your rumpled blouse, tracing the knobs of your spine.
The ice cream was a puddle on the end table. He’d clean it up later.
“You did so good,” he murmured into your hair. “My sweet girl. See how much easier things are when you let me take care of you?”
You nodded against his throat, boneless and pliant. He smiled, slow and satisfied, and held you tighter.
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dex wakes up to feel you up in the middle of the night.
ᯓ tags │ very suggestive, sleepy horny dex
the room was quiet, moonlight slipping through the blinds and painting soft stripes across your sleeping face. dex had been watching you for nearly an hour - curled up in his hoodie on your bed, one arm tucked under his head like a pillow.
he didn’t move. didn’t blink too much. just stared at the way your eyelashes fluttered with dreams, how your lips parted slightly when you breathed out that little sigh every few seconds.
his fingers twitched like he wanted to reach out and brush a strand of hair from your forehead, but he didn’t dare. scared you’d wake up. scared the moment would break.
he memorized everything - the curve of your cheek, the way your nose scrunched just slightly. a quiet warmth bloomed in his chest. the fact that you trusted him enough to sleep right beside him while he stayed awake watching over you like some guard dog.
the moment your breathing changed, shifting from deep sleep to soft wakefulness, dex held his breath. he hadn’t meant to disturb you, but instinct had taken over: one arm slowly curling around your waist, gently pulling you back into him.
his chest pressed lightly against your back as he spooned you from behind, careful not to squeeze too tight. the warmth between you two was immediate and his heartbeat thudded in his ears.
“is everything okay?” your voice came out drowsy and sweet. he felt something melt inside him.
"yeah," he murmured, low and tender, different from his usual voice. "everything's okay."
unexpectedly, dex pressed a soft kiss to the side of your neck, just below your ear. his lips were warm and gentle as they trailed down along your skin, feather-light at first like testing waters but quickly growing bolder when you didn’t pull away or protest.
one hand slid slowly up under the hoodie you were wearing, fingertips grazing bare skin with careful strokes. his touch was curious but worshipful as if every inch of you was something sacred worth memorizing by heart.
his fingers traced the curve of your shoulder, then down your arm, mapping every dip and softness like he was committing it to memory. when his hand reached yours - he laced your fingers together gently.
then he shifted closer. with slow, deliberate movements, like you were something fragile and precious, dex turned slightly and pressed himself fully against you from behind. chest flush to back now, one leg hooking lightly over yours under the blankets.
he kissed a new spot on your neck, a little lower this time and exhaled softly there before leaving another kiss right after. each touch was tender but growing needier by the second. the space between you vanished completely as he pulled you even tighter into him.
his breathing deepened as his warm hand moved upward. fingertips brushed over your collarbone first, then hesitated for just a heartbeat near your chest.
every movement was careful, reverent even as if he were touching something infinitely valuable. his palm flattened gently against you through the thin fabric of the hoodie, applying soft pressure like a question rather than an assumption.
then he kissed you again and at the same time let his thumb trace slow circles right over where his heart was racing against yours.
"dex..."
his fingers slipped fully under the hoodie now, warm fingers meeting your body as his hand glided upward, past your stomach, over your ribs. the fabric bunched slightly around his wrist as he moved.
palm open and tender again, dex let his hand rest gently over you, skin to skin, and a shiver ran through him. you were soft and plush under his touch.
he didn’t grab or squeeze; instead he cupped slowly, the curve fitting perfectly in the shape of his large palm and began moving with delicate pressure: thumb brushing lightly across sensitive skin while kissing down from your neck toward that spot where shoulder meets collarbone.
his touch turned firmer. dex began gently squeezing your breasts through his careful palm movements: soft presses at first, then rhythmic little kneading motions like he was trying to memorize the feel of you.
each squeeze sent warmth radiating between you both - his heartbeat thudding faster against your back - and his kisses grew hungrier down your neck and shoulder.
he wasn’t being greedy or pushy; every action was still loving in its own way. tender even as it became more intimate. but there was need there too - an ache building quietly inside him that made his breath come out warmer, heavier with each exhale against your skin.
his hands moved with more familiarity now, no longer hesitant, but still worshipful in their touch. dex cupped each breast fully this time, thumbs circling slowly before focusing on your nipples, rubbing small circles at first, testing your sensitivity.
seconds after, his fingers pinched lightly, but enough to tease; rolling softly between thumb and forefinger while his other hand kept massaging the opposite side.
you could feel the firm press against your backside as dex held you close. he was completely hard now, a thick ridge straining through his sweatpants where his hips naturally curled into yours.
he didn’t try to hide it or pull away; there was no shame in him. the tension in his body had shifted: every breath came deeper, slower with restraint - but obvious arousal hummed beneath the surface. when you subtly shifted adjusting without meaning to, it sent a jolt straight through him. dex bit down softly on your shoulder before kissing over the spot apologetically.
"mm… I’m sleepy," you mumbled, voice thick with drowsiness, your body going heavier against the pillows as exhaustion tugged you back toward dreams.
a soft whine almost escaped him at your words. he hesitated for only a second before pressing closer again, his arms tightening around your waist and then slowly, carefully began to grind his hips back once against yours.
just a little roll of his pelvis through the fabric; testing if maybe you’d wake up enough to respond. one hand still lazily kneaded your breast while he kissed along your jawline: slow pecks followed by open-mouthed ones that were more breath than lips.
you turned around fully this time, twisting in his arms with a suddenness that surprised even him and your mouth crashed into dex’s.
your lips parted wide, desperate and open-mouthed, kissing him like you’d been wanting this all night without realizing it. tongues met clumsily at first, warm and eager but quickly found rhythm: sliding together in messy, hungry exploration.
dex gasped softly against your kiss; caught off guard by the intensity of it but he didn’t pull away as both hands immediately flew to cup your face. his thumbs stroked along your cheeks while his lips moved frantically over yours: kissing back just as desperately.
the kiss deepened, messy and breathless. your lips clung to his like you couldn’t get close enough; teeth accidentally brushing in the heat of it before tongues tangled again.
dex made a low sound in his throat as he kissed you back harder. one hand stayed cradling your face while the other slipped down to grip your shoulder, then slide around to press firmly against the small of your back.
he pulled you flush against him as much as possible, the space between gone now and tilted his head just slightly so your mouths could align perfectly.
his breathing came fast and shallow through flared nostrils; every exhale warm on damp skin when you briefly broke apart for air.
"dex, we should sleep, have to get up early tomorrow"
he stilled instantly, lips parting from yours, breath catching in his chest. for a second, he just stared at you: eyes wide and slightly dazed, lips swollen from kissing.
his body screamed no, every nerve still buzzing with warmth and want but the logical part of him knew you were right. still, it took everything in him to nod slowly instead of arguing or begging for five more minutes.
"yeah," he whispered hoarsely, voice thick with restraint and maybe disappointment too but not frustration toward you. he tucked your head back against his shoulder and adjusted the blanket over the both of you.
the room settled into quiet again. just the soft hum of the AC and moonlight painting stripes across the bed. dex shifted carefully, curling around you like a human shield. one arm stayed wrapped firmly around your waist while his other hand rested near your face, fingertips lightly brushing your hair every now and then.
dex pressed one last kiss at your temple. the rhythm of your breathing synced first, slow, even inhales and exhales that deepened as sleep pulled you under. he felt the exact moment your body went fully relaxed against him.
his own eyelids grew heavy soon after. the adrenaline from kissing had faded, replaced by a soft drowsiness that spread through his limbs. he nuzzled unconsciously into the crown of your head and his arm tightened around you just once before falling asleep beside you.
Simon Riley knows just how to take care of you | cw: 18+ mdni, dad bf!Simon, after care after rough sex, daddy kink (icky), age gap.
He’s been railing into you all night.
Flipping and turning and bending you every which way imaginable in the right places he knows he can easily get you shaking and moaning. Fuck, do you look pretty while staining the pillows with tears, hair every which way, bruises blooming on your hips, your cunt puffy and leaking with his cum down your thighs and the crack of your ass, withering and twitching as you try your best to collect yourself.
It makes Simons dick twitch, goosebumps down his arms.
But he notices the way your mocha brown eyes are just barely open staring into space, breath ragged and shaking, your plump ass in the air.
“Where’s your head kid, tell me.” He grunts, his hand goes down your spine to your neck, rubbing the curls hair at the bottom of your nape. You shudder at the touch but don’t reply, only panting, your hole gushing and clenching around nothing. Fuckin hell
He, gently, flips you onto your back, getting in between your legs, fingers trailing the marks hes left on your hips and thighs. Then his hand softly oats your cheek, nudging your chin upward with his finger, “Eyes on me swee’art, ‘m right here.” Your pretty brown eyes finally meet his, but he knows better, you’re not there. At least not fully.
“Passed out…. for a’bit- sorry.” You mumble, lashes slowly fluttering. Jesus, you’re gorgeous just like this, so beautiful with your hair all sprawled out on the bed, skin flushed and spaced out, just barely thinking. He bends down, pecks your lips, once, twice for good measure.
“Nothin for you to apologize for, did good lovie, always so good f’me.”
He presses your foreheads together, glancing down at your body one last time, “You okay? Any pain? You sore?”
You nod a little and Simon gives you a small frowns. He sighs, caressing your cheek, “I’ll be more careful next time darlin, ‘m sorry.”
oh what bliss to be with Simon just like this. Basking in the after glow in his arms. It’s painfully sweet, he playfully pokes your cheek, lifting out of bed bridal style, “Let’s get really for bed, yeah? we’ll put the ointment later too.”
You never have to do too much thinking during aftercare, Simon will get the bath ready with salts and bubbles, tie your curls up so it doesn’t get wet, play some good music on your shared playlist and light the incense. He’ll rub all the places that will ache in the future, then rubbing the sudsy towel up and down your body till your all clean, all the while mumbling sweet nothings. 
He’ll kiss your arms, “my strong girl, work so hard all time.”
Your eyes and cheeks, till he knows the heat has risen under them, mumbling that they’ll be adorably puffy tomorrow. Only to him.
Another on your neck, “such a lovely voice, so perfect, Daddy’s gone and fucked it up hm?” And when you slowly nod he’ll let out that soft laugh you love to hear, squeeze you once in his arms from how cute you are.
By the end of the bath your tired, chest to chest, your breath matching his, your head on his shoulder looking up at him. Hes handsome as ever, the scars going up his face and across his nose, to the ones on his body that hide beneath tattoos, cigarette hanging from his lips as his hand trail up and down your back. Simon admires you— well he never really takes his eyes off you, he’s more than enchanted by you— the likes the hickies he’s left behind. They all look like flowers coming to bloom. Sometimes he wishes he wasn’t as rough with you, but he knows it’s just as good for him as it is for him. And you’d never hesitate to say your safe word if anything for astray. Your hand comes to the back of his nape, caressing him right where the blonde hair is.
He jokes, taking the cigarette from his lips and puffing it into the air. “Comforting your old man, hm kitten?”
You nod, gently leaving a kiss on his shoulder, “You need it too Pa.”
And his heart swells full, God he loves you, can never get enough of you. He hums, leaving multiple pecks to your forehead and temple, “thank you baby.”
You don’t remember getting in bed after that, or when Simon out the lotion and ointment on your bruises, but he’s holding you closes by he end of it, patting your back to sleep, mumbling, “love you my precious girl.”
a/n: shut up I love him. Meanie!simon is nice sometimes! This was a request from 300 years ago. Sorry baby.
insisting on patching up dex and he’s strangely calm the entire time, not even flinching when you stitch him up, completely focused on you and intensely watching you and admiring you the entire time until the second you’re done and he pulls you onto his lap… sigh
GOD okay!!! i got a bit carried away and i got a little filthy with it too OOP 🤭 i couldn’t help myself. ended up mixing two asks together for this one, hope you still enjoy babe! xoxo
the push and pull
benjamin poindexter x reader, bullseye x reader
cw: dex and his very obvious masochistic tendencies, a bit of dry humping (again, dont ask me why), he's completely covered in blood but you dont care of course. content is 18+, MINORS DNI
he already knows better than to fight you on it, you’re always so adamant on helping him, every time he arrives at your place all bloodied and beaten up you order him to “take the shirt off, sit down” so you can stitch him up
and he does, like an obedient dog, theres only a hint of amusement in his eyes as he watches you closely, meticulously every time, as if he were entertained and fascinated by your concern for him
his breathing does falter though, when you tell him "this is gonna sting" moments before pouring antiseptic over his open wounds
instead of flinching at the sharp sting, the only visible reaction from him is a slight tic above his mouth, an almost pleased but still quiet “mmph” sound emanating from his tight lipped smile
dex is in a state of elation as you stitch him up, his stomach progressively pooling up with heat at your proximity, his infatuation for you nearly bursts out from the constraints of his chest as he stares, and on top of it all you continue to rub or pierce at his tender and bruised flesh like you don’t even know what its doing to him
you being the one to inflict pain on him (even if its on accident) never fails to make dex’s mind reel with adrenaline and well… devastating want
the moment your teeth finally rips the thread you were using to stitch his last wound up dex sits up so alarmingly fast, his mouth aiming and landing directly on yours, his filthy hands reaching to lift and sit you between his crassly, almost disrespectfully wide opened legs
he kisses like he's starved for it, grunting against your lips when you squeal at the metallic taste of blood clinging to his mouth, his lips still gnashed open because of the hard blows that were inflicted on his damn pretty face
"dex, your wounds-" you mumble in between wet, messy kisses, feeling kinda angry at him for being so adamant on undoing your hard work "they're gonna split open again if you keep moving like that"
good, dex thinks
i want them too, he laughs outwardly at the continuing thoughts inside his head, the airy and mocking sound exhaled straight into your mouth
he thinks he could keep bleeding if it means he gets to watch you patch him up all over again, maybe he'll slice open new wounds just so it takes you longer to finish, to make the rawness and pain on his skin all the more worse for himself, the thought makes his cock twitch inside his pants
"dex im serious-" you say, but theres a shaky, heated quality to you voice, like the mere taste of him, his mind bending intensity and the feeling of his blood stained chest against your bare palms is easing you slowly into forgetting and dismissing his ‘delicate’ predicament
"i know you are” he says simply, separating from your mouth so he can lift a teasing brow at you, but right away his hands are moving your hips to place you on top of him, aching to feel your heat sitting right over the rough black fabric of his clothed (now painfully hardened) groin, guiding you to wrap your thighs completely around him
when you start to keenly whine in response to the rough, hardened friction dex smiles against your mouth, his teeth clanking into yours, he loves that you’re the one who’s always on the losing side when it comes to this part, that you always fall victim to his dizzying and aggressive pace
he still relishes on you putting up a fight though, he loves the push and pull before you inevitably give in to him like he always does with you
you grab the hair at the back of his head in frustration and pull, making his neck crane backwards until he can no longer access your lips, you do it so abruptly and forcefully its evident that you failed to consider the soreness and tenderness of his muscles
so of course dex hisses at the pain, his mouth still wet with your saliva and his blood, he spits out an aggresive “uungh, f- uck!”
“oh shit! baby- i- im so sorry i didn’t think it would-” you’re quick to mumble out the worried apologies, searching his face frantically, looking for any sign that could indicate you hurt him far beyond what he could tolerate, what he can stand
the truth is, so so far from that actually
dex’s face goes from a pained scowl to a dazed smile in a matter of fucking seconds, his near black eyes slowly blink up at you beneath his half closed eyelids, with a soft encouraging nod and a deceptively sweet tone he requests “harder”
Licking on dex scar during missionary… that alone will drive him crazy. he’d get sloppy afterwards mumbling and cursing bcs you could do anything to taunt him; he has the patience for it all but licking the scar??? wheww that’d do it….
WHEWWW
and at first he would be thrusting into you slowly and lovingly, his cock sinking into your tummy and drawing little gasps from you. your quivering legs just closing in on his waist every time he draws back and pushes his length into your cunt. and with how tender dex is being it makes you so needy that you just want to kiss him :(( making grabby hands at him until he smiles and lowers his head down for you, letting you wrap your arms around his neck. “needy girl..” he’ll mumble, knowing he totally loves it when you get like this.
you’re just pecking at his lips and his neck, whines of dex.. and feels s’good.., sweetly leaving your lips after every smooch. you’ve pulled him so close that your cheeks are pressed together and you could hear his breaths in your ear, hard panting and strained groans every so often. and you really weren’t thinking when you did it, your lips were already kissing at his cheekbones when you decided to lick a long stripe against his scar. tongue gliding over the damaged skin with a pant as you hold him close to you, tasting the sweat of darkened scar. and dex just stills in his movements, his cock still snug in between your legs as he takes in how fucking hot that was.
you hear dex groan out a rough, “fuck..”, his hands moving from holding behind your head to gripping at your hips, sloppily pounding into your cunt with need. and he hits right at your g-spot extracting a sob from your throat, instinctively hiding into dexs shoulder. “hey, stop that. keep doing what you were doing sweetheart.. for me yeah?” dex urges, taking one of his hands from your hips and pulling your head from his neck. with tears running down your face you start to lap at dexs face again, and you give him little kitten licks at his scar with a whimper.
his mouth curls into a grin and he bites his lip, eyes shut in pleasure as his hips rock into you harshly. “atta girl just like that..” you hear, feeling your core tighten up with an intense orgasm creeping up on you.
you can barely keep up steady licks on dexs cheek, only managing a slick stripe on his skin every moment from how much he’s rocking you back and forth on the bed. and his thrusts stutter when you clench around his length, tightly squeezing around him while you cum, his cock having to pry itself from your sopping folds. dex is mumbling curses in your ear and you know he’s about to cum himself, cos he gets all sloppy and hazy, cock pulsing with the need to paint your walls. dex plunges his load in your hole with lowly moan — you’re hiding in his shoulder again, and his face is all messy with spit because of you!
Idc, normalize kink shaming. Cause y'all be using “don’t kink shame” and “it’s fiction” to excuse being into incest, pedophilia, cannibalism, etc. Like, be so fr, you ship a 14 year old with a 30 year, want to get railed by your dad and want to see two brothers f*ck each other. I don’t engage with things fictionally that I don’t like/wouldn’t want to do in real life. Yes, I’m judging you.
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creepy perverted roommate könig who always stares at you and makes offhanded dirty jokes that are just statements about what he wants to do to you.
rough grubby hands sniffing through your laundry and pawing at his bulge as he takes a deep breath from your underwear.
taking multiple "showers" a day just to relieve the ache on his swollen red cock, leaving him leaky and extra sensitive. cock too hard and heavy to even stand upright.
going out of his way to hold your waist when walking pass even though the hallway is big enough, and rubbing his hard on against the plump of your ass when he needs to get something from the cabinet as you’re washing dishes.
vs.
shy freak reader who’s equally as depraved.
stealing his shirts and boxers to sleep in and purposely wearing them in front of him, apologizing for the mix up then handing him his boxers stained with slick.
rubbing your hands against his chest and back when you sit beside him on the couch. grinding against him as you watch a movie together, your slick heat obviously showing how bare you are underneath the nightgown.
purposely eating popsicles on the living room couch as you watch tv, your tank top showing your pudgy belly as your shorts ride up. your cute underwear visible as you coyly lick at the popsicle.
watching him stare at you before ending up with your legs over his shoulders as he fucks you into the couch. wet sloppy kisses sharing the taste of the sweet popsicle as he pumps you full of cum.
Hard of hearing!Simon Riley who’s got permanent damage in his right ear from years of explosions, gunfire, and close-quarters chaos—no one on base really comments on it anymore, but he’s used to tilting his head slightly when someone talks, or barking a gruff “Wot?” when the words blur together.
Hard of hearing!Simon Riley who meets you and immediately notices how you don’t dial it down. You talk and talk—rambling about your day, laughing loud enough that it echoes off the walls, filling every quiet corner of his flat like you were made to chase away the silence he’s lived in for years. Past partners always told you to lower your voice, said you were “too much,” but Simon just watches you with those dark eyes and lets you keep going.
Hard of hearing!Simon Riley who starts positioning himself on your left side without thinking, the good ear turned toward you so he doesn’t miss a single word. He never asks you to speak up or repeat yourself; instead he leans in closer, mask tugged down just enough that you can see the faint scar along his jaw, and mutters, “Keep talkin’, love. Like hearin’ you.”
Hard of hearing!Simon Riley who finds your volume oddly comforting after missions. The flat used to feel like a tomb—too still, too quiet. Now it’s full of your voice: you singing off-key in the kitchen, yelling excitedly at the telly, chattering while you cook. He catches fragments sometimes, but the tone? The energy? That comes through crystal clear, and it settles something restless in his chest.
Hard of hearing!Simon Riley who gets a little smug when you forget and raise your voice even more around him. You’ll be mid-rant about some coworker and suddenly boom a laugh, and he’ll just smirk under the mask, pulling you into his lap with one big hand on your hip. “Didn’t catch all that,” he rumbles, “but I liked the last bit. Say it again.”
Hard of hearing!Simon Riley who never once makes you feel like your loudness is a flaw. If anything, he guards it. When Soap or Gaz tease you lightly about being the “loud one” in the relationship, Simon shuts it down with a flat stare and a low, “She talks how she talks. Fuck off.” You’re his noise. His life. The one sound he never wants muffled.
Hard of hearing!Simon Riley whose favorite thing is when you’re in bed and that volume of yours really comes out. He loves the way you can’t stay quiet—whining his name, gasping loud when he drags his cock slow and deep, moaning without shame as he pins your wrists above your head and fucks you harder just to hear you get even louder.
Hard of hearing!Simon Riley who growls against your throat, “Louder, sweetheart. Want the whole fuckin’ block to know who’s makin’ you sound like that.” He angles his hips just right, thick length stretching you open, and when you cry out—sharp, unrestrained, voice cracking on a broken “Simon, fuck, right there”—he swears it hits him harder than any explosion ever did.
Hard of hearing!Simon Riley who buries his face in your neck as you come undone, your loud, messy moans vibrating against his skin while he spills inside you with a deep, guttural groan of his own. Afterward he stays buried deep, breathing you in, one calloused thumb brushing your cheek as he murmurs, “Never get tired of hearin’ you lose it for me. Loud as you want, love. Always.”
He pulls you close, your chest still heaving, voice hoarse from how freely you let go, and for once the world feels perfectly loud in all the right ways.
Daddy rubbing his cock against my cunt, talking about how small I am and how it’s gonna be a tight fit but he knows I can take it cause I’m his good girl
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality
Anya is LIVE right now
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Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming