Munson'sQueen

“are you excited!”

You squealed clapping yours hands, the car turning into the car park as you did.

Simon just huffed in answer helping you out of the car and to the entrance.

“i don’t understand the appeal love, i do this so you don’t have to..”

His words came out sugar sweet as he passed his card to the receptionist taking the noise cancelling headphones.

You just huffed at the retaliation skipping down the hall, you had chosen the end booth to avoid getting embarrassed.

He followed silently grabbing to pistols and glasses for you, he passed you the pistol the sight heaving in your hands.

Simons scarred fingers pulled back your hair behind your ears softly placing the headphones down with a thud.

Next he slipped the glasses onto your face making sure they were comfortable and properly on.

“am i going first?”

Your voice had gone from excited to slightly nervous rambling, before you could add on to your words he had spun you to face the right way.

His hands steady on your waist as he guides your hands up pulling your stubborn hands into position.

“no not like that, like this. Don’t be tense relax.”

Simon’s voice was heavy in your ear and you couldn’t help but clench your thighs.

“jesus, i didn’t think you had to be so specific i thought you just..shoot?”

Your voice was tighter as you stared as the black figure at the end, he let out a small laugh at your comment widening your stance.

“when your ready shoot, try to not hit your self with the gun.”

You took a deep breath, made a face you had seen in Oceans eight, and fired.

And dear god was that scary, your whole body shuddered with the shot the gun coming back and almost hitting you square in the nose.

“holy fucking shit balls!”

Simon just laughed looking at where your shot went, right into the groin of the figure.

“good aim love.”

You hit his chest putting the gun down and smoothing your hair back with another big sigh.

He looked back at you before picking the gun up with practised ease and taking three shots at the head, heart, and groin.

Of course they were all perfect like the show off he is..

“show off,”

“get better then.”

You glared, he smirked.

So of course you spent the next hour perfecting it with a mad man’s consistency.

By the end the recoil was to a minimum and your shots were now shooting the groin on purpose.

Simon was impressed, and showed you how impressed he was in the car.

His fingers aren’t just good with guns

simon was downright beat, another day of extensive labor scratched off the shitty calender on his wall—if he could even make it there. going up the stairs was a challenge he didn't want to face, but the elevators in his building were out of order. steeling himself for the extra ache in his knees with every step, he began his ascent.

it wasn't nearly as bad as he thought when he reached the landing of his floor, trudging his feet along the carpet until he reached his door. a plant in the corner of the hall caught his eye—since when had that gotten there?

he shrugged it off. it was a question for another day because nothing was more important than a fat nap on the couch—too lazy to make it to the bed. he could barely get the key in the door, twisting and turning it with hazy focus before shouldering his way inside.

blasted with warmth and vanilla, simon instantly realized his mistake.

he glanced around, noting the cozy decor and myriad of plants—hanging pots, mini ones on windowsills to big ones scattered in different corners. warm toned lights bathed his skin, lulling him into a sense of calm and clarity. the blankets on the couch did him no favor, practically calling him to stick his face into them.

the sweet scent of fresh-baked goods wafted in his nose, distracting him from the figure that appeared by his side. only having a split second to react to the—naked?—figure wielding a frying pan before everything went black.

simon came to a few minutes later, halfway dragged towards the couch by the same figure that knocked him out cold. jesus. at least now you were clothed. in a robe with a tantalizing amount of skin on display

with a groan, he rubbed his head which prompted you to drop the leg you use to tug him along. a soft gasp of surprise escaped your lips, and you bent at the waist to inspect him.

"simon? what the hell are you doing here? I could've killed you!" a soft, familiar voice fussed, and when his vision unblurred, he was met with the sight of your pretty face.

you weren't exactly simon's neighbor. you lived on the floor directly below his apartment—often complaining about his heavy footsteps. but after warming him up by tons of sweet treats, you two became familiar. he'd return the tupperware with delicious foods, and the trading never ceased. unless he was on a mission—which you quickly learned he was back from.

simon rubbed his head with a grunt. "doubt tha'. fryin' pan's a shit weapon, luv." he drawled.

"says the man laying on the floor after being knocked cold." you hitch a hand on your hip, leg cocked as you stare down at him.

he can almost see directly up your robe, flushing red all over his face as he quickly averts his gaze. not without another peek.

"..." he stays silent for a moment before his muscles go lax. "got me there."

"so why the hell are you in my apartment?"

"thou' it was mine."

your brows furrow, a frown developing on your face. "did you just get back? jesus, you must be exhausted, and a frypan to the head couldn't have helped."

"yer a genius, bird."

"cut the attitude, or I'm kicking you out." you threatened, but it was empty. there's no way you were kicking him out after taking him out with a frying pan. "are you okay, though? like really because that does not look good."

"already achin', can't even tell anythin' worse happened." he's not lying. his entire body suffered the aftermath of his mission. stiff muscles, a headache, and joints that have seen better days. he could barely tell he got smacked in the head.

still, you fuss over him in a way that makes his heart flutter. "let me get ice and something for you to eat while you lay on the couch. would've done it myself, but you weigh a ton." with that, you turn away in a flurry, not wasting a second to take care of the man who broke into your apartment and caught a glimpse of you naked.

"way to flatter a man." he called back before settling into the plush couch, feeling the soft blanket under his fingertips.

୨୧⋅┈∘┈⋅⋅┈∘┈⋅୨୧⋅┈∘┈⋅⋅┈∘┈⋅୨୧ ⋅┈∘┈⋅⋅┈∘┈⋅ ୨୧

You hated when people looked at you after they looked at Simon.

Because it always happened in that order.

Their eyes would land on him first— broad shoulders stuffed into dark clothes, that permanently tired stare, the kind of presence that made rooms quiet without him even trying — and then they’d shift to you.

And every single time, you swore you saw the same flicker of confusion.

Them?

It made your sick.

ִֶָ𓂃 ࣪˖ ִִֶֶָ🥀་༘࿐black rose sinners. part two ♡ part one

you're twirling the black rose he made you between your fingers, stunned that he dyed it all on his own. you thought he'd continue to laugh it off and get sick of your teasing knowing damn well how far from a romantic man he is.

you're looking up at him in your apartment cloaked in midnight, almost wanting to cry. 'it's beautiful, ghost...thank you...can't believe you did this.'

he's cocking his head at you, smirking beneath the mask. 'you like it, love?'

Werewolf bf x fem!reader— rough sex, clawing, marking, biting, brief mentions of blood, edging, aftercare

You had been nervous when you told your Werewolf bf that you were a vampire. You knew there were all those legends about your species being ancient rivals and even worse how some still believed in them. You knew your bf wasn’t like that and yet you were still nervous.

Nothing could’ve prepared you for his reaction. Instead of apprehension or worry, your Werewolf bf’s eyes flooded with lust. About the same time yours overflowed with alarm at the sight of it.

Further alarm moving through you when Werewolf bf jumps to tackle you down onto your bed. Inhaling deeply at your scent he can now pinpoint where he previously couldn’t before he nuzzles into the flesh there, adding his own scent to yours. Tiny growls leaving him as he does. You’re frozen, eyes wide, not knowing what to make of this reaction.

“Do you know how hard it’s been trying to hold back from taking you as roughly as I’ve wanted? Not wanting to break my pretty mates human body,” Werewolf bf snarls.

His hands move down your shape with a new fascination. His love for your body, perfect as it is, grows even deeper. He no longer bothers to be gentle, claws scratching down your form, fingers digging into your flesh, weight leaning on you. All to see how much you can take.

You moan, finally feeling his touch on a higher level than ever before now that neither of you have to hide or hold back any longer. “I want everything you can give me,” you beg.

Werewolf bf snarls, hands rushing to rid you of your clothing. Trying to be respectful but eventually using his claws to simply tear through what left you had on. You cry out, only getting more aroused by his intensified dominance.

“I expect you to bite back,” Werewolf bf snaps cheekily, a feral smirk on his face.

simon likes when you smile-- thinks it's a damn ray of sunshine in a shitty, dark world ( cheeky, he knows. soap gives him enough grief over such sentiments, even if he never voices them out loud. the eyes say enough, LT, and you're bein' real loud-- or whatever bloody shit he says ). it's a reminder of what's worth protecting, of what's meant for him to return to, of what's worth bearing his heart to.

simon, however, doesn't like when you smile at him like that. means you're up to no good. means he better be on alert for whatever you're about to say next.

in theory, yes, simon riley is intimidating : rough voice, a personality with jagged edges, that cold stare-- but to you? forget any of that. strange how you always manage to humble him whenever he tries to stare you down.

"...you called me dove."

he pauses. it's a habit by now, just a mere nickname ; no reason for you to be looking at him like he's some kind of saint.

"and i'll do it again."

"don't threaten me with a good time, si."

that look of feign indifference-- one you always see through, your laughter, and a brush of your lips against his in quiet adoration.

"i'd never threaten you, dove."

Dire

{Zayne x Rafayel}

Vs

You, who’s known the entire time. You, who’s done more than know. You, who’s been bribing, blackmailing, and occasionally outright paying women to sleep with him since the first girl. Not to boost his ego. God, no. You’re simply keeping the old bastard happy and unsuspecting until retirement.

you recognize the gift you’re getting once he finally pulls a box out that he’d kept hidden deep in his closet, taking out old pictures of him from med school, his soldier days. you coo as you lean over his shoulder, and then you go quiet, nearly yanking one from his hand to bring it to your face and get a closer look.

he glances at you, apprehensive as he tries to understand why you’ve suddenly gone so quiet. but then:

“red hair???” you exclaim, your eyes widening comically as your face absolutely lights up with glee.

he lets out a chuckle that’s laced with relief. “yeah, baby, you didn’t know?”

“NO I didn’t know! you’ve never let me see!!” you say, almost offended if it weren’t for your excitement. you rifle through more pictures, gawking at the deep red curls on the freckled boy in all of them.

you don’t shut up about it for a long time after, much to jack’s dismay. you’d pull up pictures that are now saved onto your phone, staring at them with a giddy smile. you’d go up to him with a smirk, and he’d roll his eyes.

“hey baby, does the carpet match the drapes?” you’d drawl, wiggling your eyebrows at him while he laughs and pushes playfully at your shoulder.

“you’ve seen the drapes. they do match - it’s all grey.”

─── ⋆ aftercare

CALL OF DUTY - MWII - SIMON RILEY

𐔌՞ ܸ.ˬ.ܸ՞𐦯 summary: in your last relationship aftercare wasn’t even a concept, but with Simon Riley it’s so much more than that.

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: just Simon giving you aftercare for the first time because what the hell I have free will ALSO 18+ puhlease!! Mdni I’ll boot kick you out.

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: fluff so rotten your teeth will fall out.

Pairings: bf!Simon x gf!Reader

The next best thing to sex with Simon Riley was the aftercare - you thought as your gaze followed him into the bathroom, his frame disappearing behind the doorframe. You were sore, heart hammering and skin slick with sweat as you basked in the aftermath of it all, but a soft smile stretched across your lips.

You felt like you were positively glowing.

It shocked you the first time you both had sex. Not that you expected him to discard you with his back turned. But considering your past relationship, the lack of love after making it was normal for you.

Didn’t make it suck any less though.

So when it came to Simon. A man who practically intimidated every neighbour of yours within a block, muscle and tattoo ridden and who killed for a living - aftercare seemed … overly emotionally strenuous for him. Like it would make things too real? You thought.

But when it came and he held you as though you could crack like strained glass, gently wiping your skin with a lukewarm towel, you couldn’t hide how enamoured you felt.

How did so much care and love come from the same hands that drew blood.

“What’s tha’ look for?” Simon pointed bluntly as he butterflied your hips open to clean your core “nothing just-“ you swallowed thickly, blinking “didn’t expect all this” you breathe. Simon’s brows furrowed in confusion, gaze still tethered to wiping you clean “Christ dove, what kind of men have you been havin’ sex with” his abrasive tone made you huff a laugh “shitty ones” you retorted.

“Fuckin’ clearly” he said, guiding the rough towel over your stomach.

Seconds passed and you were still unable to wipe the adoration off your face, something Simon noticed with a huff of a laugh “ya lookin’ at me like I’ve just bought you a fuckin’ puppy” mirth dripped off of his tone.

You gently pushed him “shut up”

“What kinda man do ya’ take me for” Simon questioned while he moved to soothe the inside of your thighs. You let his words hang in the air before you responded “not a shitty one” he hummed in amusement, his belief of your words wavered thin.

Simon tended to the hickeys and bruises, apologising gruffly for getting carried away. To which you said that you didn’t mind “Good” he said, throwing the towel into the dirty clothes basket before lying down next to you “C’mere” he graveled, arms outstretched.

You complied, draping your arm across his scarred chest. A new found sense of relief flooded through you at the feeling of being so tenderly cared for. Simon heaved a sigh, coiling his arm around your waist to pull you closer “M’fuckin’ girl” he murmured before kissing the crown of your head.

This was how it was supposed to be.

your bodies seem to be glued together. you’re so close, so close that you can barely breathe, but you don’t care, not when pope’s thick cock is penetrating your sensitive walls, kissing your cervix with every thrust, pushing white, sticky cum deeper into you, right into your womb. you pull him even closer, wrapping your legs and arms around his massive body, running your fingernails over his freckled skin and hard muscles.

you moan into his mouth, alternately with broken pleas for more, which only fuels his raw hunger, causing his hips to thrust into you rougher , harder and deeper, triggering a reaction in your body so violent that you can feel every pulse, in every single nerve.

but that isn’t enough for you. you want more , you need more. so you clench your pretty pussy, begging him to come inside you again, begging him to claim you.

and pope's body reacts immediately, like a dog hearing a command. his fat cock thrusts deep inside you, so deep that your fucked-up mind feels like he's in your throat, while his hands grip the soft skin of your hips tightly, leaving red marks from his large, calloused hands. preventing you from pulling away, preventing you from escaping, as he fills you with thick cum.

your pussy greedily milks his cock, trying to take every last drop, but there’s so much of it , so much that you can feel it slowly dripping out of you, staining your inner thighs, your bum and the sheets beneath you. but you don’t mind, no – your eyes are blurry from pleasure and quiet sighs of bliss escape your lips.

"feels so good, andy" you whisper into his mouth, massaging his neck, running your fingers through his damp auburn hair.

"yeah?" he asks, looking shyly into your eyes – a stark contrast to how animalistically he was behaving just a moment ago.

"yeah" you reply, moving your hand down your sweaty body, straight between your legs, using your fingertips to gather the excess of his cum that has flowed out of you "and you taste so good too, andy, so good" you say, licking your fingers, stained with the white fluid, with a cat-like grace.