Trying to walk squeeze by Simon when heâs standing is hard enough, but when heâs sitting? Itâs like a Herculean task. He manages to take up just as much room as he always does, if not moreâlegs spread wide, feet kicked out in front of him. He's like a human-sized boulder, and it's impossible to get to where you need to go if he's in your path.
"Christâ" you kicked at his foot, "Close your fucking legs, LT."
He grumbled something unintelligible, glaring blankly into the middle distance and making no effort to ease up in his seat or grant you the space you needed to pass.
"Iâm serious," you huffed, "Thereâs no way your balls are so big that you canât spare a few inches of legroom for me."
It sort of just slipped out; a low-effort joke you hoped might get him to empathize with your struggleâor maybe embarrass him into closing his fucking legs.
"Might be."
Simon didnât bother looking up at you when he spoke. He remained statuesque, thick arms crossed over his wide chest.
"What?"
"Balls might be âat fuckin big," now he looked up, that deep glare finding your face. "Try findin' time for a wank in 'is line oâwork."
"I find plenty of time," you shot back quickly, trying to keep up with his odd brand of humorâwas it humor? "What? Shower's too good for you? Canât jerk off in bed like a normal person?"
"Tired." He shrugged.
His eyes were half-lidded, frustrated, but not angry, and when he tilted his head to the side, an almost imperceptible gesture, you thought the conversation was done. You thought you might be able to kick your way past his legs; be able to storm off, knowing you had lost this battle, and allow yourself the time to stew over it.
But then he dropped his forearms to his thighs with a quiet huffâwhether it was one of amusement or not, you could never tell with him.
"'Nd the mess ain't worth it."
You swallowed, almost taking a step back out of sheer surprise that he was being so direct. Granted, Simon's only method of communication was to speak candidly, or not at all.
âMaybe you just need someone toâŠhelp you out,â there was no hesitancy to your words, though you couldn't hide the slight waver in your voice. âSomewhere pretty toâŠforâfor easy clean up...â
And thatâs how you wound up face down on Simon's bed, bent over yourself on shaky hands and trembling knees. A calloused palm pressed against your back, forcing you to arch, squirming while he fucked his previous load back into you.
"Pretty liâl cumslut," his voice was almost jovial, despite the gravelly baritone he maintained, as he watched the messy combination of slick and cum drip down the backs of your thighs. "S'at what you are, sweetheart?"
"IâmmhâŠYe-esâ"
Groaning at your easy submission, the quiver in your voice as you confirmed his query, he slid his hand down from your upper back, maneuvering between your shoulder blades and pressing down on the side of your head in a gentle but apparent show of control. You arched further, unable to stop yourself from chasing that perfect angleâthe one that let you feel him between your ribs, that pushed the air from your lungs while he pulled another orgasm from you.
"Yeah, sâright," his free hand came down to rest on the curve of your ass, spreading you furtherâwiderâfor his own enjoyment. "âNd whose fuckinâ cum dumpster are ya?"
"PleaseâSimon!"
Your cry of his name inadvertently answered his question, and he growled in recognition, bringing his hand down hard over the flesh of your ass before squeezing.
"Yeah, sâfuckinâ rightâ" another squeeze, "Mine."
His grip on your ass faltered slightly, just enough to let his palm sweep inwards, his thumb brushing against the tight rim of your asshole while you gasped beneath him.
"Think when Iâve pumped your pretty cunt full, youâll let me fill ya âere?" He pressed lightly, watching your eyelids flutter as you drooled onto his bedspread.
You moaned wantonly, keening at his words; his filthy promises and desperate touches. The lazy arch of your back against the pressure of his thumb and silent mouthing of his nameâthat was answer enough for him.
"Yeahâfuck, gonna give it to ya, sweetheart," he practically crooned it, determined to provide what you both wanted again, and again, and again. "Give ya every fuckinâ drop..."
It was so much easier for him to avoid getting cum on his sheets like this, with you so desperate to take everything he mercilessly fucked into you.
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They were always too big, considering his behemoth size above the rest of his peers. Long, spindly fingers that over the years in the military, became thick with callouses and scars. Yellowed with cigarette butts, a knuckle here and there slightly out of place from all of the fractures and breaks.
The palms of his hands were completely webbed with delicate lines from both age and the extensive length of times he had worn his fingers in a fist. He had tried to make them look a little better, had gotten tattoos, would lotion when he could remember. The ink ran deep, little swirls and designs eating up the thick, aged skin on the back of his hands, fingers blotched on the first knuckle with little images or letters. It had started to bleed and fade that strange sort of navy that tattoos do after a prologued time under the skin.
But no amount of ink on the planet would erase the blood that they carried each day. Breaths silenced by those jagged palms, lives ended with just one pull of an index finger. His hands were dirty. Worse than the muck constantly tucked under his trimmed nails. They were forever stained crimson with decisions he would never be able to take back.
Right now, he was fighting hard to stop his fingers from trembling. Heâd never felt his heart race this way. His palms were tense, outstretched to minimise the age lines that spanned them, and waiting for when the weight settled between them.
His breath stopped.
Bundled up in blankets and a tiny pink hat, those same hands that had carried grenades and guns and knives, was now so carefully balancing a tiny baby girl. No bigger than the length of his hands held open side by side, weighing nothing more than just a small few pounds and ounces.
Just her face was visible. Still a little smushed up from birth, peach fuzz coating the softest, pinkest skin. Her eyes shut, tiny lashes splaying across little rosy cheeks. She had his nose. Well the one before it has been broken four times. A little button nose, a little long, with a tiny bump down the bridge. But she had the poutiest little lips on the planet. Glossy with salvia, undoubtedly a carbon copy of her motherâs.
Simon was breathless and speechless.
This tiny thing, no bigger than this calloused, ugly hands⊠it had come from him. And the fact somebody loved him so much to give him one.
He could feel the hot sting of tears in the corner of his eyes.
His daughter stirred, her little face scrunching up even more before she yawned. Simon only watched, how her tiny pink tongue flexed in her mouth, how the fat of her cheeks shifted to accommodate that teeny tiny jaw to open as wide as it could go. Then, she settled back into the blankets, clearly comfortable in Simonâs hands. She squeaked quietly before settling in completely.
The first tear streamed down Simonâs cheek. Then the next. And the next.
His hands. Those calloused, ink stained, bloodied evil-doing hands. He had hated them for as long as he could remember.
But now, holding the smallest, most delicate, precious being in the world.
Simon likes to joke about the age difference between you two. And by joke, weâre talking about jokes that are too real to be jokes.
He knows that the age difference makes people side eye or do a double take. Heâs aware that he receives strange looks when he tells people that his partner is twenty years younger than him.
It wasnât intentional; it wasnât like he was specifically scoping out someone younger than him. He wasnât a goddamn creep, cut him some slack.
The two of you connected over something entirely so dumb. He had caught you staring at a cereal box at a grocery store with the most disgusted look on your face. âCan you believe they changed the design on the box?â you had asked him.
And all he could do was stare down at you with the flattest expression imaginable. Here you were, a stranger, speaking to him like you came in the store with him. But he played along, âWouldnât be the first. Youâre too young to know what the first design looked like.â
Since that one singular conversation, his life has changed; a complete switch. Instead of his usual âLeave-Me-Alone-Itâs-Bourbon-Saturday,â his weekends now consist of date nights with you.
Or âTaco-Mondaysâ (because Taco Tuesday was so overused in his mind), had now become âSimon gets to spend Mondays trying out new restaurants with his new partner.â
He felt young again; remembering that life was more than gunshots and gun wounds. Or that summer wasnât just a long mission in the middle of a country heâs never been to but rather, a long weekend getaway while the sun burns the fuck out of his back.
âYou got daddy issues,â Simon randomly said as he laid ontop of your beach towel. His sunglasses covered his eyes, a blob of sunscreen was on his nose, and his arms rested by his sides like he was ready for the summer heat to wash him away.
The beach was full of people; all setting up their little spots and kids running away from the gentle waves. You stared down at Simon, whom looked too comfortable tanning. Since when the fuck do men like him tan? Apparently, since he started dating you. âThat came out of nowhere,â you replied, glaring down at him.
âJust saying, love. Not everyone wants to date a man who looks like he could be your fatherâs friend,â Simon replies without a second thought. He didnât moveâ you barely noticed his lips move. Thatâs how serious he took his tanning.
A quiet scoff escaped your lips as you glanced over at the water, the small waves bringing in sand before throwing it back. âYeah, itâs really not my fault youâre like⊠fifty and past your prime,â you joked back. âYou probably have to pop a viagra to get it up before we fuck,â you added with a shit-faced eating grin.
Itâs become a running joke of who could make who feel more uncomfortable at this point.
âHey,â Simon began and finally shifted. âFirst of all, Iâm not fifty. And second of allââ he propped himself up with his elbows before turning around to lay on his stomach, âmy dickâs twenty years older than you and you take it well, so.â
it was past midnight when you shivered awake, teeth chattering softly, turning towards the warm body laying beside you. you expected simon to pull you into his arms, but instead he slid your panties down your thighs, and lifted your leg just enough to guide himself in, cockwarming you.
you fought the urge to rock against him. his face was exhausted from the long mission, dark circles carved beneath his eyes, so you'd bitten your lip, in an attempt to conceal your moans.
you tried to fall back asleep but every time you shifted your body, his cock would brush that sweet spot that made your eyes roll back in pleasure.
he'd unconsciously thrust, groaning in his sleep, whenever your walls squeezed around him, and you'd feel his hot, thick cum filling you again and again.
by the time morning came, your limbs felt sore. simon had cum inside of you five times, keeping you warm and full to your satisfaction.
you're pregnant and simon riley doesn't let you lift a finger.
it had only been a few months since you found out you were pregnant, barely long enough to grasp the fact that you were going to be parents.
simon watched you more closely now, he noticed the way your belly started to show, the way your body was drained by late afternoon, the way he'd find you still sleeping after a morning run, the way your hand anxiously drifted to your stomach when people approached you.
so when you reach your apartment after a long day out, simon didn't hesitate to let his duffel bag slide off his shoulder and thud to the floor, turning his broad back to you, lowering himself into a deep crouch. his hands reached back, gently guiding your legs to hook around his hips.
"si, i can walk. i'm too heavy!" you started, but he cut you off with a low snort, nonsense, which meant no amount of arguing would change it. you eventually draped your arms over his massive shoulders and let your chin rest against the crook of his neck, breathing in the familiar scent of him.
you've felt nauseous for the past few weeks. you couldn't bear the smell of any sort of food. the mere scent of coffee or the neighbor's cooking sent you running to the bathroom. only simon's smell put you at ease.
he hoisted you up easily, as if you weighted nothing. his hands, rough and scarred, secured its grip beneath your thighs, holding you steady. when you felt him adjust his hold, shifting your weight slightly to keep you balanced, you murmured "you can put me down now, si", your lips brushing the shell of his ear. he tughtened his grip in response .
simon's pace was slow, not from fatigue, but because he was being careful, placing each boot deliberately, avoiding the creaky steps he'd been meaning to fix for months.
you pressed a soft kiss to his jaw, feeling the slight stubble scrape your lips, and he tilted his head just enough to glance at you from the corner of his eye, his expression softening.
when he finally reached your door, he didn't set you down right away, he just stood there for a moment, your arms still wrapped around his neck, your belly pressed against his warm back.
he carried you to the sofa and lowered you down like you carefully, then knelt down to untie your shoes. when you tried to get up, he gave you a look and gently pushed you back against the cushions, muttering, "stay here."
he disappeared into the kitchen and returned with a small bowl of strawberries. he'd noticed that they were the only thing you could keep down. he settled beside you on the sofa, holding the bowl in his lap and feeding you one piece at a time, his thumb brushing your lower lip after each bite, watching you with that tenderness that made you feel the luckiest girl in the world.
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thinking about simon 'ghost' riley showing up at your door after a nightmare...
18+ MDNI !!!
cw: fem!reader, exes AND lovers, post-break up sex, angst, hopeful ending, 1.4K word count
âDove?â Simon calls out, half-asleep, tears still fresh on his cheeks from whatever fucked up nightmare his brain had conjured. It isnât until he sits up and feels the cold air on his chest that he fully comes to.
He feels pathetic, really, heâs crying like a child because of a bad dream, and the first thing he does is call out for his exâ you. The one he broke up with. The one he pushed away. Â
He throws on a hoodie and grabs his keys- just to go for a quick drive, he tells himself.
Youâre not sure why you didnât just ignore the knocking and go back to sleep. Itâs bad for you, backsliding, and you can practically picture your friends scolding you already.Â
You wrap your arms around yourself as you make your way to your apartmentâs door. You find some odd comfort in the way it makes you feel smallerâ the same way Simon always did. Â
âI love you.â wasnât what you expected to hear when you answered the door. Not now that youâve finally accepted the exact opposite of what he's telling you. Â
You roll your eyes and scoff at him. âYou donât.â
He stares down at you, and you canât help but wonder why he couldnât look at you like this while you were still together. âCanât tell me what âm feeling, Love.â
âDonât call me that,â you snap. âBut Iâm right,â you continue. You donât love me, Simon, you wonât fucking let yourself! You leave without a word, and you always push me away because you think you donât deserve it- that you need to be punished.â Your words are desperate, as if youâre pleading with him.Â
âAnd, and, you just expect me to take it, to sit by the door and wait for you to come back like a goddamn dog. I canât keep doing thisâ I wonât.âÂ
âI never said that.â He tries to make his voice come out strong and certain, but you know him too well to fall for it.Â
âYou didnât have to.â You settle on.Â
He scoffs, âSo what? Itâs my fault you feel this way? I did this, ruined us?â
âYes! No, I donât,â you sigh. âI donât know. I asked for too much, and Iâm sorry for that, but⊠You werenât fair. You hurt me a lot, but I get it, I guess. You were too scared to stay, and I was too scared to leave.â Â
It was silent for a moment. âLet me in, Dove.â Itâs not a questionâ youâve both been here enough times to know how it ends.Â
Against your better judgment, you step aside, locking the door behind him.Â
His mouth trails your body as if it's the last time heâll taste your skin. You tell yourself it isâ that you mean it this time.Â
Heâs on top of you, caging your body between himself and the bed. The feeling of his bare skin against yours burnsâ you hate to admit youâve missed it.Â
You gasp as he bites your shoulder, his tongue trailing down to your breasts. âNeed to taste her, love, please?â he whispers into your chest. You nod breathlessly, your hand shoving his head further down your body.Â
He presses a rough kiss to your stomach, his eyes shine with tears as he glances up at you. âMissed you, havenât touched another cunt since. Hated myself for leaving,â he confesses before his tongue starts lapping at your folds.
Heâs eating your pussy as if heâs convinced that if he fucks you good enough, makes you cum right, itâll be enough to make up for the pastâ enough for you to let him stay.Â
You whine when he pulls away, running two of his fingers up and down your slit. âSo wet for me, mustâve missed me too, huh Dove?â Despite his best efforts, you can feel the heavy weight in his words.Â
âYeah, I missed you too, Si,â you admit, your voice shaking as you blink away the tears.Â
Your mouth falls open, a near-silent moan leaving your lips when he suddenly pushes two of his fingers past your entrance. He starts at a slow pace as he pumps them in and out of you.Â
âSheâs so tight fâ me, lovie, she always is. Fucking haunted my dreams, could never forget this cuntâ never forget you.â He groans, stretching you out as he starts to spread his fingers inside you.Â
You give a sharp intake of breath, your eyes threatening to flutter shut. He frowns when you pull him away by the nape of his neck. âNeed you, Si, please just fuck me. Swear âm ready,â you mumble, pressing a needy kiss against his neck.Â
His hands roam down to your hips, his rough fingertips pressing hard into your skin. âWhatever you want, âs fucking yours, dove. Swear Iâll do anything you want me to.â
You speak before you can think to stop yourself. âI want you to stay, Simon, let me in. Donât abandon me the second shit starts to get real,â you beg, your hands squeezing his shoulders.Â
He goes quiet, and youâre suddenly hyper-aware of the way his hard cock is pressed against your folds. âIâll stay, swear it, love.â Itâs not the first time heâs promised thatâ youâre well awareâ yet as you spot the tears rolling down his cheeks, you desperately want to believe he means it this time.Â
Your back arches as he suddenly and roughly pushes into your dripping cunt. You can feel his dick throb when your nails dig into his back hard enough to draw blood. âFucking masochist,â you tease, pressing harder into the skin.Â
You both let out a moan as he bottoms out, his balls pressed snugly against your cunt. You can feel the tip of him so deep inside you. It should be too big, too much, but itâs notâ he never is.Â
âNeed you to move, Si,â you whisper, running your hands along his chest.Â
He pulls out slightly before thrusting back into you, setting a slow and steady pace. Itâs different from how he normally fucks youâ fast and hardâ almost as if heâs trying to drag it on. Make it last.Â
He doesnât speak. He just buries his head into your neck and breathes in your scent. You can feel his tears fall onto your skin.Â
âFuck, Simon, feels so good. Needed this, needed your cock, mmm, needed you-â you say with a moan, tossing your head back.Â
He whines against you as his pace speeds up, his hand reaching down to roughly circle your clit.
You tell yourself itâs the way heâs pounding into you so deeply, that itâs only because heâs pressing your sensitive bud so perfectly. The truth is, though, itâs not until he says âI love you, doveâ that you start to come undone.Â
âFuck, hnnng, gonna, gonna cum,â you squeal, your ankles locking behind his back, unintentionally trapping him inside you.Â
His hips start to stutter as he feels you clench around him. Wet noises fill the room with each sloppy thrust. âGotta let me out, please, love, canât hold it any longer,â he begs.Â
You stop his hand when it reaches back to move your legs. âInside, please cum inside me, Simon, need it, swear âm on the pill-â
Thatâs all it takes for his thrusts to falter; heâs spilling his hot cum deep inside you with a low groan. He collapses next to you, his cock still buried in your cunt.Â
You place a gentle kiss on his skin as he pulls you against his chest, and the sound of your mixed breaths fills the room.Â
âStay?â you begâ just like you always do.
He's silentâ just like he always it.
You donât fully remember falling asleep, but as you wake up to the sound of a door slamming shut, youâre painfully aware of how empty your bed is.Â
You fight back the tears and force yourself to head into the kitchen for a glass of water.Â
Youâve barely processed the fact that Simonâs in your kitchen when he starts to speak. âGot you breakfast from that place you like,â he says, avoiding your wide-eyed stare.Â
âYou didnât⊠leave?â Your voice comes out mangled, and your eyes fill with tears.Â
He pulls you into his chest, his hand making soothing circles against your back. âYou asked me to stay. Meant what I said, dove, anything you want.â His words feel real, and a spark of hope makes its home in your chest.Â
It's not a promise this time, but something differentâ something betterâ a fresh start.
All of Simonâs baby photos are hilarious because his hair was see-through bleach blonde for the first year of his life, and he just looks like a perfectly shiny bald child with a little bit of lint glued onto his head lmao
simon is very, very experienced in sex and when he fucks you, he fills you up and stuffs you swollen that you swear that you could feel his cock nudging at the back of your throat.
while stumbling over your words, you tell this to him one night, your voice splintering because of your ripping euphoria, and it's not even meant to be dirty talk or to tease him, but it hits simon so hard, he just fucking cums preemptively.
"si- whu'-"
"shit," he puffs out, pressing his face on the column of your neck, heaving deeply and tensed in his sudden orgasm. "shit, i- give me a sec, hun. give-"
you feel his face heat up from where it's pressed on your skin, his warm breaths turning even more feverish, and, god, how cute. but you stay still, breathing through your mouth, because simon may not be moving but he's still so big inside of you, plugging his cum in that you wonder if you should start worrying now because it's not a safe day, then--
simon moves, a little humping motion, and you squeak, dragging your dull nails along his back at the feeling of him fucking his spunk further in you and it's so debauched and it feels so dirty but, christ, it feels good.
you don't even care that it's simon's way of distracting you from his little "embarrassing" moment -- later, you'll tell him how hot it is actually to just feel him lose it and cum prematurely but for now, you'll enjoy this dance.
ghost who always have a grey, heavy, uninterested air about him but one day he comes to work, and he's got something behind his ribs clawing to be let loose. his teeth are clenched, his eyes sharp. his orders bite harder, his patience runs thinner, and the recruits feel it but don't understand it.
and it's all because you couldn't lie back and get eaten out like every other morning. it was routine. ingrained. automatic. ghost slips under the covers, dips his head between your thighs, and laps at your sex until you leave the mess he loves bestâ the slick, saturated spot he'd sniff while still wet. (can't blame me, luvie. it's sweet.)
you'd gotten up, thrown your clothes on in a hurry, and had been out the door, keys in hand, before he could get a word in.
unacceptable.
(kyle later catches him and asks him if he skipped breakfast or something. not by choice is what ghost tells him.)
Inspired by real events and real delusions.
Content & Warnings: 18+ MDNI!!! DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT: hardcore(?) bdsm, dubcon, somno, bondage, degradation, dom/sub, cnc, free use, rough sex, punishments, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, traffic light color system, safewords, use of safewords, subspace, dirty talk, spanking, spitting, slapping, breeding, PinV, creampie, implied cunnilingus, fingering, choking, manhandling, implied aftercare, possessiveness, biting, bloody lips, bruising, marking.
Simon came home early from his mission, having no interest in living to see another sunset or sunrise without you next to him. He wanted to sleep in the soft bed you kept for him, even if it meant zombie walking himself home. You flew out of the bedroom to plaster him with kisses, surveying for new injuries while he unlaced his boots. His ungloved hands gently took your tiny ones, bringing them to his lips. A kiss is pressed to your ring, and he halts. His eyes flick to yours, cold and dark.Â
Shit, you've been caught.
His grip turns rock hard.
âWhat's this now?â And he shoves your three middle fingers into his mouth, inhaling deeply, biting down at the base of them.Â
You tried to pull away, but between his teeth and his arm locked around you, there was no escape. He bit down harder, wet velcro muscle sliding and twirling between each digit, sucking on the tips of your fingers before letting them go, and leaving teeth marks. Youâre in trouble now.
âKnow that taste anywhere, love.â There's fire in his eyes, but not a hint of warmth despite their redness. âPlaying with my pussy without me. Without permission.â He tuts at you. âAnd here I was gonna to reward you for being a good loyal girl. Know you're not sâposed to touch yourself while Iâm gone...â His voice was monotone, but he couldn't disguise the calculation and disappointment loaded in his words.Â
Your face scorched hot, âIââ
âLook I'm tired and not in a proper state of mind to punish you, so let's just sleep for now.âÂ
You dropped your eyes and nodded.
He brought a hand up underneath your chin forcing you to look at him. ââM not angry, know you missed me,â he sweetened his tone up for you, but you didnât quite believe him deep down. âCome to bed, we'll discuss your punishment in the morning,â and he led you into the bedroom. Tucked into his side, you fell hard against him, drifting blissfully asleep, reunited with your husband.
......
Simon was moving, a light sleeper. It sometimes took him a few days to adjust back to a regular schedule. It was still dark on the other side of your eyelids, but you could hear the faint beginnings of birdsong as you stirred to partial consciousness, just enough to roll over or flip the pillow to the cooler side if you wanted. Your arms felt numb and heavy and your legs were fuzzy, a sign of a damn good dead sleep.
A wash of cold air activated goosebumps shivering across your skin.
Wait. Where did your pajamas go?
You jerked awake, thrashing, but your arms locked you down in place. They were tied above your head to the headboard, but your feet were free. You strained your neck to look around.
âGood, you're awake.â
You exhaled a deep sigh of relief knowing he was there, but a splash of fear doused your insides. Flight or fight kicked in and you tugged at your restraints on instinct, a sharp pain shot through to your left shoulder. The ropes weren't too tight or painful on your skin, as long as you didn't struggle. Usually if Simon tied you up, it was just your hands together in front or behind, but he also had only ever done so when you were awake.
âI've decided what your punishment is going to be.â
A stone dropped into the pit of your stomach and your heart started racing again. You were scared in a sense, not of being hurt, but of the unknown. Anticipation.
âRemember your safeword and colors?âÂ
You nodded, âyes sir.âÂ
âAre your restraints comfortable enough? Do I need to adjust them before I start?âÂ
âThey're okay. I'll tell you if it changes butââ He silenced you with a firm hand over your mouth, fingertips digging painfully into the fat of your cheeks and mandible.Â
âNo more speaking out of turn. Don't make me gag you so we can be safe, pet.â There was something haunting about him, ominous in a way you didn't often get to experience. Primal hunger was the only emotion you could make out in the dark, but his voice kept it leashed in chains of unpolished steel.
âMight need your words for this, best to save them.â Simon moved wordlessly into position and began.
.....
Between his hands and mouth you were three orgasms deep in subspace now; lethargic and moaning, legs shaking like a leaf while he barreled you into a fourth, noises growing more and more inhuman.
Your punishment was the restraints. Hands in rope jail, locked up for crimes committed. Guilty as sin, stinking of sex. They robbed him, stole from him. A pair of thieving criminals that touched what wasn't theirs. Masterminds in their own rite, needy and greedy. They loved to trace and tangle up inside him, make him weak for you, pull him close, tell him how and where you wanted to please him. He couldn't allow you to play unfair this time and turn the tables of your own punishment.
After your fourth, you were drenched and slick, chest heaving. He got up to fetch a towel and repositioned you top of it, fluffy terry cloth material felt like sandpaper scratching your buzzing skin. There was a dull sting in your muscles, tight from tensing, a sharp contrast to the fiery meltdown of your pussy, and the rest of your senses were jacked up to the highest sensitivity setting. Simon checked your hands and the knots that tethered them to the headboard, you wiggled your fingers to show they were feeling okay. He gave you a sip of water and you wheezed your color, then he climbed between your legs once more.
Simon did not ease himself into you, this was a punishment. Ropes, overstimulation, and a rough unforgiving dicking down. As greedy as your cunt was, it struggled to take his massive size, clamping down before he could take his rightful place inside you. Possession clutched at your throat and jaw, spit in your mouth instead of kissing you, slapped your tits, called you a whore, and made bruises with his fingerprints, until he could force the rest of his cock all the way in.Â
Simon grunted, fucking you raw and hard. âFuck this pussy back into the shape oâ me. Remind her who she belongs to.â His harsh thrusts made your body lurch, adding slack to your ties, breasts bouncing, flesh rippling from impact. The taste of iron leaked onto your tongue from biting your lip to keep words from forming. The sound of skin smacking, lewd squelching, and your moans filled the bedroom. He knew your body was primed for your next orgasm, walls fluttering and body jolting like an earthquake. Reaching down, he furiously rubbed your clit and bullied your g-spot with his tip until it sent shockwaves of prickly pleasure through you. âCream my cock, slut. S'what you wanted innit?â
The only reason you were coming at all was because he wanted you to. You didn't beg him to stop despite the overstimulation that forced tears to down your face and your muscles to spasm. You loved to turn boneless and brainless for him to use. You needed him to be whole and he provided the hard structure you needed to go soft around him. Yin and yang.Â
âGonna make you come so many times you can't come without me.â His plan was to ruin you for everyone else. As if he hadn't already done that and married you because of it.
âYou promised me you would wait. How am I supposed to trust you when I'm not around?â He looked down at you with a sneer, knowing how to tug on your heartstrings and summon tears.
âWon't happen again, sir. I'm so sorry,â you whimpered.
Simon pulled out of you so fast it gave you reverse whiplash, like being turned inside out. The air that he'd been beating out of your lungs finally rushed back in, filling you with enough oxygen to get you high and floaty. His big hands slapped down, roughly gripped your hips and flipped you onto your front, ropes twisting in place. He pulled your hips up and shoved his cock back inside. Fingers hooking into the softest parts of your waist, he pulled you back to meet his violent thrusts, hitting deep enough to make you gasp.Â
âLike hell it won't, slag. Can't follow simple directions.â Simon punctuated his words with the heavy crack of his hand on your rear, and he laid a few more into you before you convulsed around him. Head buried face-first into the mattress, your tears stained the sheets, and you gasped for what little air you could find. Your legs were liquid and couldnât support you anymore, so he tightened his grip and held up your hips. He kept fucking you while you rag-dolled, body collapsing under his relentless brutality and the extreme euphoria forced into you by another mind-altering orgasm.Â
Your hips fell helplessly off his cock when he let go. One day he's going to blow your back out, paralyze you, and keep fucking you anyways. Sick freak. Your back was sore from his trusts compressing your spine and the angle of the arch he bent you into. You relaxed what you could into the comforts of your bedding, rubbing your thighs together, toes curling and cracking. His broad hands came up to your face, one moved hair out of the way, and the other applied a bone-crushing grip to your jaw, forcing you to look at him. Â
âColor?â
There was none in his eyes. With his bottomless stamina, he could keep you tied up like his personal sex toy and use you for days. He hadn't finished once in the hour (hours?) since the session started, and you knew he had to be aching for release. You twitched in your restraints, but the silken bite from the rope couldn't overide how much you wanted to touch him and coax him to come. You'd do anything to make that happen.
âGreen.â
He pulled your ankles apart and slot in to fuck you prone. You moaned and your eyes rolled to the back of your head when he stuffed his fat cock in you again. Each position hit a little different, this time the tingling radiated in your kidneys when he pounded you from the back, dislodging every broken breath from your lungs. He was reaching depths that only he could navigate. Only he knew what buttons to press and strokes to place to have you unraveling.
A hand wormed its way underneath to press above your pubic bone. âAnother,â he commanded. On cue, the band tightened and snapped. You exploded while he fucked you with abandon, squirting and shaking, choking on sobs, while he crammed you full. âThat's it, filthy slut. Didn't put a towel down for nothinâ.â
Simon pulled away from you once more and moved you onto your back. Your fluids were dripping wet down his cock, he flexed or twitched and it bobbed in the air. He was leaking precum and his pubic hair was slicked down and frothy from your previous climbaxes.Â
âClean me off.â He walked himself closer to your face and touched the tip of him to your swollen lips, and you greedily sucked him into your mouth, worshiping with your tongue. It was salty, and sweet, and sticky when it transferred and dried on your face. His hands cradled the back of your head forcing you to take more than you were ready for.
Tears welled up, drool filled up your mouth, and you struggled to switch to breathing through your nose. He pulled you off by your hair, saw the glassy eyed expression on your face, and scowled. âCock drunk whore enjoyed being face fucked too much. Can't have that.â
Simon moved back to between your legs, using the towel to wipe off the arousal that spilled from your bullied hole and coated your thighs. A smack of his hand sent a sharp shock to your blistering clit, then a couple fingers scooped some of your cum from your core and reapplied it to work the hard bud rapidly back and forth with the rough pads of his fingers.Â
Your body panicked, stuttering breath and hacking up your lungs. It hurt. It burned. It was too much.
The overstimulation caught up with you and you felt only pain. Your eyes went wide, âyellow-ow-ow-ow,â you cried. And Simon backed off your poor sensitive clit.
He trailed a hand down one of your trembling legs, his touch gentler than before. Normally he would reward you for using your colors, but that would have to wait until after he finished playing with you. âYou should be thanking me for this, letting you come so many times. What is it seven? No...it would have been, but you just couldn't handle it. What happened to my greedy girl?â
You writhed where words failed, seeking any form of solace on your supercharged skin, but everywhere he touched blazed and scratched instead. The world spun around you, like the forever falling feeling of intoxication.
âBut you're not done till I say so,â he whispered in your ear. âYou're mine. Any orgasm you have belongs to me.â
He grabs your face again, squishing your cheeks, bringing your eyes to connect with his again, and with the other he worked his fingers back inside, starting with two, then three, targeting that spot that turned your vision dark. Your clit was too painful, so he'd have to be rough with you in other ways, and he knew your cunt could take a beating better than anything else, so resilient and hungry for attention. It's what drove you to break the rules in the first place.Â
But if you never broke the rules, then he'd never have cause to punish you. It was all fun and games as long as you didn't make a bad habit of it.Â
You were on the ropes now, beat up, bruised, and broken. His favorite little toy, marked and strung up in red for him. Fuck he was so hard for you, fighting his own release. He loosened his hold on your face. âOpen.â And your tongue lazily rolled out of your parted lips. He spit, your walls pulled tight around his fingers, and you swallowed dutifully. âThere she is. Go on. Take it then.â Your legs tensed and your mouth hung wide open, eyes fluttering shut, while you rode another wave of pleasure on his thick fingers.Â
Before you had a chance to fall back to earth, he ripped his fingers out and stuffed them in your mouth. He bent down to leave bite marks down your chest, on your breasts, stomach, and down to your hips. Your lips curled around licking and biting down on his thick fingers, gagging down when he shoved them deeper over your tongue to the back of your throat. You closed your eyes and tears escaped out the corners, savoring the taste of yourself on his skin. He pulled them out and you released them with a wet pop, licking your chapped lips after.
Simon molded your lifeless lower body to him next. âYou don't even deserve the cum I'm gonna pump you full of. Was saving it up just for you.â He slid all the way into your aching heat, lunging closer. Taking your lips into his mouth only to bite down on them, tasting the dried blood from your earlier split lip, he chewed and pulled at the tender flesh till it split again. It was not a forgiving kiss, and he let himself enjoy it a little too much, groaning deep enough for the vibrations to pass from his chest into yours. Releasing your face, your head dropped back onto the bed, bracketed by your weak arms.Â
His grip moved to encircle your neck and waist, pinning you in place while he fucked you breathless. You felt him up in your ribs, piercing your diaphragm. He was a lump in your throat that couldn't be swallowed down. Your pulse hammered beneath his grip as you came once more, eyes rolling back and wet heat sucking him deeper. You were scraped like a fur hide being turned into leather, stretched thin across the universe. Head in the clouds was too grounded of an expression to process, let alone comprehend.Â
.....
You must have blacked out, or died and come back to life. When you came to, your legs were thrown over Simon's shoulders, knees pressed to your shoulders. He was splitting you in half with his cock, and drunk on the sweet friction. A static cling consumed your hands and feet but slowly dissipated.
âMaybe I otta get you olâ big and round with my kid so you can't touch yourself wiâout me. Huh?â He splays his hand under your belly button pressing down on his cock moving inside while you gush around him. âWant me to fuck a fat baby in you to keep you busy while I'm gone?â Making no effort to hit your sweet spot, in a trance, he watched himself breach your depths, brutalizing your cervix with each thrust. He knew what he was doing. âYou like that? Pussy so tight on me, like she wants to be bred. Come on, I know you wanna be full.âÂ
He was sweaty and panting over you. The wet sounds of sticky skin slapping proved there was already a thick mess running down your crack.
How many times had he come inside you? You didn't get to feel him twitching inside while he filled you with his first load or hear him groan at his peak when he lost himself inside of you.
Another punishment, worse than all the others. Now you really saw things. How could you be so selfish? You sniffled, lip quivering, tears welling. âSorryâso sorryâloveâyou.â Your voice was hoarse.
Simon shushed your sweet sobs, âThat's right. Let it out.â He tipped you over the edge with more dirty words, âOne last time, just to make sure it takes.â
After your ninth, he took your hands down, undoing the ropes, massaging blood flow back into them, and easing the ebbing tension from the prolonged stretch. For the first part of aftercare, he made the sweet kind of welcome home love to you in the warmth of sunrise that spilled over your bed. Kissing you languid and deep, praising you, driving his spend deeper into you, slowly rolling his hips against your clit just how you liked, kind and soft hands caressing until you came together by design.Â
Ten times you came, he counted. A record for you sure, but to him each one meant something more. One for each week he was gone. One for each month until your baby would arrive. One for every carat in your wedding ring. One for each deployment you've welcomed him home from.Â
(Eleven would actually kill you though, so it might be for the best to not let him catch you next time.)
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thinking about Boyfriend!König that eats so much at home. he orders takeout in such large quantities that his usual restaurants know his voice - as soon as they hear his little âhello?â theyâre like, âOh, you want the usual? Weâre having a buy-one-get-one-free thing right now on breadsticks.â. if he isnât ordering at least six different things off the menu something is wrong
thinking about sitting down to eat with him and heâs eyeing your food like he doesnât have a buffet in front of him. heâll always let you eat in peace, never rushing you or commenting on what you ordered⊠but heâs drooling over it like he wished he ordered it. thinking about always saving a couple bites of food for König, pretending to be full and insisting he should finish your takeout. heâll always double check with you before shoveling it into his mouth, groaning because it tastes good - you saved a little bit of everything for him, from a little sauce, some protein, maybe some grain or veggies. König always offers you some of his food in turn, and messy eater that he is, his food looks like itâs been through hell. some portions are heavily broken up by his fork, others mixed together because, âIt tastes better like this, Liebling.â
The two of you are trying to mingle with the others in a Christmas social event until you're left alone with your guy by your side. König, whose drunk from too many spirits, is holding up a misletoe for jokes
And as much as you wanna play along because you kinda wanna kiss himâyou can't.
He's standing straight and sure he's drunk and wavers but Man's almost seven feet tall. He's leaning down a bit but not enough for you to actually reach his face.
"give me a kiss-kiss, Maus? Right on my cheek" he teases, not taking into account that you can't reach his cheek, "or how bout meine Lippe? Not too bold, Ja?"
"even if I wanna, König, I can't reach you" you say, smiling up at the big lug. König's dopey smiles is hidden underneath his balaclava but you can see the accents on the fabric. His eyes looks too glazed for you to be convinced he's not too drunk to operate. Man should be lying down and maybe you can reschedule the kiss. "I think you had too much of a Christmas spirit, my guy" and that made König snicker, pulling the misletoe down.
"Ja. Probably did, Schatzi." He agrees with a hum, "take me to my room?" He asked, finally leaning in before putting his arm around your shoulder. He leans down, lips pressing on your temple with the fabric of balaclava in between. "And don't worry. I'm bringing that thingâden Mistelzweigâin my pocket" he murmurs, breath smelling faintly of alcohol.
Tw: kidnapping, sexual content, obsession, dead dove do not eat. (Fem!reader)
Creepy!König who realized you would be the one for him the moment he heard your voice. He rarely went in public, even when he wasn't on deployment, but he did like going to the bar you worked in, mostly because it was as crappy as it could be and no one was ever there but him, the bartender and the same two drunks... and you.
Creepy!reader, you who worked as a waitress in the empty bar König liked, and who started ogling him since before he sat down.
Creepy!König who did the charade of being too drunk and his keys falling to the floor so you had to bend down and he could peek under your skirt "discreetly".
Creepy!reader who more than once dropped beer all over König who so she could see his pants get tighter and make out the shape of his thick tighs.
Creepy!König who started memorizing at what time you left so he could follow you home.
Creepy!reader who sometimes snuck into one of the cubicles in the men's restroom waiting for König to use the bathroom so she could see what was hidden under his pants. But creepy!König left after he couldn't find you anymore:(
Creepy!König who knows you are staring at him, all the time. But he becomes paranoid and thinks you've caught up how much of a creep he is.
Creepy!reader who spiked his drink with an aphrodisiac and tried to be caught in a short skirt at the back alley behind the bar when he left. You stayed there, freezing in the cold and starting to feel scared of someone actually finding you and threatening you. Were you so disgusting that he wouldn't even notice you with the unsafe amount of aphrodisiacs and viagra you put on his drink?:((
Creepy!König who went to the bar restroom to masturbate and cum all over your shirt, the one you kept as a spare in your locker and he stole by paying the bartender/owner to turn a blind eye. He spent hours there, it was almost three in the morning when he left.
Creepy!reader who made conversations with König just to record his voice and play it at night to touch herself to it, unknowingly giving him a show when he stood outside your window. Too bad you were wearing headphones and he never realized it was his own voice.
Creepy!König who sees you trailing after him one day and is sure you know he's been stalking you:(( he's so fucked, he thought he had been subtle, he's trained in this crap for god's sake!
Creepy!reader who's about to lose her mind when König just dissappears into the night after she managed to follow him. You were so close to finding out where he lived.
Creepy!König who started doing much more exercise to fight the beer belly he'd get from going to the bar every night. The owner couldn't be happier
Creepy!reader who thinks enough is enough and slips a tranquilizer into König's drink. He's going home with you once and for all.
Creepy!König who knows damn well what a drink spiked with that kind of drugs taste is like. He might've not found out about the first spiking, but this is entirely different. Were you some sort of spy? You wanted to hurt him??!! He's devastated! Heartbroken! He'd do anything for you!!:(( (Except actually talking to you like a normal human being)
Creepy!reader who thinks her plan worked when König almost strutted to the out of the bar, surely it meant the effects of the drug were working and he was beginning to feel funny.
Creepy!König who was half leading you away to question you, half running away in despair.
Creepy!reader who followed him into an alley. Creepy!reader who soon was cornered in said alley by a very much sober König.
Creepy!König who pulled out a gun (he really didn't mean to pull a gun on his sweetheart, but he thought you were dangerous!!) and asked who were you working for.
Creepy!reader who stammered and blushed and looked at him like the cutest deer in headlights, and pretended not to know anything.
Creepy!König who was palming the gun in his pocket and had a knife in the other hand, both very much good incentives to speak.
Creepy!reader who cracked immediately and confessed like a squeaky, guilty mouse that she did drug him, but didn't want to harm him, she just... liked him. That's what you get for thinking with your pussy.
Creepy!König who needs a good two minutes to process, but soon is beaming like a fool under his hood. Creepy!König who takes your hand in his and starts to caress your waist, knife and gun long forgotten.
Creepy!reader who soon is all over the giant man and is incredibly down for whatever he wants after that.
Creepy!König who takes you home, and after kissing, cuddling and fucking you all night long, does not let you out of the house come morning. Didn't you say you liked him?
könig just comfortably sitting on the couch with a book in hand, completely immersed in it, and completely missing the hungry look you have as you take his figure in, the way his thighs are spread, the way the thick muscle fills his pants, the stupidly hot bulging biceps, the most attractive veins decorating his forearms and hands
youâre on him in a matter of seconds, nuzzling his crotch and pulling down his pants to mouth at his cock before swallowing it down and deepthroating him
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könig is SO the type to obsess over someone who's been nice to him. :(Â
18+ (smut, dd:dne)
cw: fem!reader, stalking (on both sides), obsessive & delusional behaviors, dubcon, voyeurism, implied somno & cnc at the end, reader is not a victim here, okay maybe the dove isn't dead but it probably needs a doctor, word count: 939
âOh my god, Iâm so, so, sorry!â you shriek, grabbing some napkins from your bag before you pat at his chest.
König doesnât quite understand why youâre apologizing; after all, he stumbled into you. He doesnât point that out, though, not when youâre touching him so freely.
You donât flinch at his size or think twice about the mask covering half his face as you smile softly at him.Â
His mouth is dry, voice shaky as he quietly speaks. âApologies, Maus, I bumped into you. Let me make it right?â
You're so sweet, so naive, so trusting that you don't hesitate to let him buy you coffee as an apology.Â
The conversation flows smoothly as you tell him your name, where you work, that you're a localâ your apartment is only a few blocks awayâ freely giving him all this information about yourself.
Being a colonel has taught him self-restraint; heâs content to watch you through the scope of his rifle after he follows you home that night. His stomach lies flat on the roof of a random building facing your apartment windowâ he doesn't even jerk off despite his raging hard on.Â
He isnât some sick, perverted freakâ this is purely about your safety. He has to make sure you're not sharing these parts of yourself with other menâ men who might want to hurt you. Heâs keeping you safe.Â
The scraps of you are enough to placate the deep hunger thatâs settled in his chest at the mere thought of you.Â
Until he gets informed about a month-long mission.Â
You donât even notice the cameras placed all over your apartment: your living room, your bathroom, your bedroom; absolutely no blind spots.Â
If you did, surely you wouldnât be lying on your bed, thighs spread open as you push your digits past your entrance. His camera is angled just perfectly for him to see your sweet cuntâ he can't help but touch himself to the sight.Â
He tries his best to match your pace, hand moving up and down his cock in sync as you pump your fingers in and out of your dripping hole. A soft whimper gets picked up by the microphone, his thighs twitching at the needy sound.Â
âDu bist so perfekt fĂŒr mich, kleine Mausâ you were made for me, ja?â His voice shakes, cock twitching as he watches you cum.Â
So adorable, he thinks to himself. The way your eyes flutter, chest heaving as you try to catch your breath. If youâre this reactive from just two fingers, he canât help but be a little worried about how youâll handle his cock.
He can see it now, your eyes rolled back, body shaking as he thrusts into your tight, wet, hole. Squeezing his eyes shut, he can practically hear you whining his name out as you gush around his cock.Â
As his cum paints the monitor, he swears for a split second he can see your eyes stare straight into the camera.
You spot him before he even notices youâ itâs hard to miss his tall, hulking form as he navigates the streets. You told yourself that youâd be patient and slowly lure him out, but you just couldnât help yourself when you saw him.Â
Pretending not to notice him, you let him stumble into you. âOh my god, Iâm so, so, sorry!â you shriek, grabbing some napkins from your bag before you pat at his chest.Â
Handsome doesnât begin to describe him; heâs got a solid formâ either a gym rat or someone who has to stay fit for workâ the mask covers most of his face, but you can see the faint freckles and acne scars trailing along his skin.Â
âApologies, Maus, I bumped into you. Let me make it right?â
The two of you sip your coffees as you carefully spill information about yourself. Feeding him just enough to make him want more but not so much that he grows tired of the taste.Â
âI canât believe youâve never been here before; they have the best lattes. Iâm lucky itâs so close to my apartment; I can just walk here on my way to work,â you comment, softly smiling as his eyes light up.
Youâve never felt more elated than when he finally put the cameras up in your apartmentâ you'd been giving him plenty of chances for weeks now.Â
You werenât planning on giving him a showâ at least, not yet. It was just too much, the thought of him watching you sleep, shower, and touch yourself. You had to do something about the sticky mess between your thighs.Â
You slowly peel off your clothes before lying on the bed, placing yourself in the perfect spot for him to see every caress and hear every desperate noise you make.
As your fingers curl inside you, you canât help but pretend they're his instead. Plunging the digits in and out of your dripping hole, you try to go at a pace you think heâd like. A soft whimper falls from your lips, your thumb reaching up to circle your needy clit.
Maus. The nickname rings in your earsâ you wonder if heâd call you that while heâs got his cock buried in your cunt.Â
The thought sends you stumbling over the edge. A shiver wracks your body as you clench down around your fingers, crying out as you cum.Â
You hadnât meant to say his name or glance at the camera, but you just couldnât help yourself.Â
As your eyes flutter, you wonder how long it'll be before he finally slips in your window to touch you while you 'sleep'.
Kidnapper König who provides films for you. Not on streaming websites - because then he risks little you getting too curious for your own good and searching for a documentary on your disappearance. He can't have that. But DVDs, an assortment of his favourite fucked up horror films to terrify you and to ensure he knows exactly what you're watching in your free time. He needs to remain in control even when giving you the freeing opportunity to entertain yourself on your own.
He provides pornography for you as well. Whatever it is, films, magazines, an unnamed tape you accidentally stumbled across where he's masturbating. Too entranced by the sheer size of this "pornstar", you didn't even consider the horrifying fact that he would expose you to something so vulgar and intimate of himself.
Fuck, the horror that followed when the camera panned up to his covered face for the first time at the end of the tape left your voice warbling and your bottom lip quivering oh so sweetly you know König's cock would be aching at the depraved sight. It makes you feel nauseous knowing you just got off to something so obscene. Your stomach churns and bile threatens to spill as you shield your eyes, tugging at your hair maniacally and frustratedly while rocking yourself back and forth in a futile attempt to console and soothe yourself.
You hide the tape through shame and humility, your cheeks feeling as though they're burning as you blink back tears that threaten to blur your vision and spill down your sensitive cheeks, your plush thighs coated in a sheen of your slick and shiny arousal from your fresh orgasm, your knees trembling as you worry your bottom lip while you plead with the Gods above to not let König know that you just masturbated to his own perverted video.
And König begins to sneakily replace the DVDs you'd requested - softer, comedy, romance films, a stark contrast to the disturbing genres he frequently indulged in - with his sex tapes.
You know you're deep within your hell of a hole when you frantically search and rummage through your bin of DVDs to find his sex tape. Anything to relieve that tight sensation coiling within you.
