Hi! Okay I Would Quite Literally Inject Your Writing Into My Veins If I Could, But I Wanted To Ask You

Hngggggg. Nikto being balls deep inside you, face buried into your shoulder, murmuring in Russian about how perfect you are, how tight and warm and loving. Made for him. Reparations from the universe for all his pain and suffering. He’ll never leave you, never. He is yours and you are his. He doesn’t care if he has to chain you to him and throw away the key.

EASY, BREEZY, BEAUTIFUL - TASK FORCE 141

+ bonus

just want to have a brown-eyed, broad man pull the covers over the two of us in bed, and say, “hi,” in that way where their eyes crinkle and my face breaks into a grin—before he asks me if I’m okay, and hugs me because he knows I’m not.

you know?

Alt version of my previous ghost portrait

Edit: I made this into a print! :D

cw: post sex drabble, naked bodies

— Well, you done fucked up.

Look at you, waking up in bed right next to that hot neighbor, what was his name again? Simon? Yeah. He had been staring at you the past few weeks since moving in, and you thought he was cute, so of course you thought to yourself, "What's the harm in one good fuck?"

Everything. God he had such a good dick, and he knew how to use it, the benefit of an older man you supposed. By the third time you came you were face down into his soft pillow, whimpering and mewling like a cat in heat. And of course he had the audacity to give your ass a little slap, slowly easing out of you. A hand rubbing your aching tummy, maybe a few wet kisses pressed to your back as he laid on top of you.

A soft coo to follow, "Ah love, you took me so well, look at you, sweet thing."

All you could do was sigh into his big broad muscles, sniffling softly in exhaustion. And of course you fell asleep to his warm, comforting words, and gentle hands caressing you.

And when you woke up, he had you in an absolute death grip, one that signified that this would not be a one night stand. Of course, you could struggle and try to tug out of his big, burly arms. But the moment you heard a slow inhale and feel his grip tighten, you knew you were locked in.

A warm kiss pressed to your back, his rumbly voice crooning in your ear, "Where do you think yer going, love?"

And just maybe, you would let your eyes fall shut, a few more hours of sleep would surely loosen his grip, right??

Simon is the type to wake you up on a precious day off together and spend an hour rearranging your guts, your feet around his ears, bed frame banging the wall till the plaster chips, bedding pulled off the mattress and soaked with gods know what, whispering filth and depravity between groans and grunts… then make you the best bacon and eggs you’ve ever had. It’s a shame your hands shake too much to lift your fork though.

hey i’m the biggest non-verbal-affection-simon enthusiast i just thought you guys should know that

he thinks that pressing his forehead to yours is so important and creates such a huge connection that he can’t put into words and he doesn’t even really want to. believes it’ll spoil everything.

his strong brow bone presses to your forehead, lashes kissing your own in flutters, and his eyes seem endless when they stare into yours. in the morning in bed, on the couch watching tv, an intimacy reserved for only the two of you.

you don’t mind that he isn’t the loudest in the room when it comes to how he feels about you, but it seems you already know.

butterfly kisses and a quiet murmur of something resembling utmost reverence.

love me some big mean simon but love me some big INSECURE overthinker simon even more. simon who's so big and awkward and out of place, certain he's not deserving of such a sweet sweet girl like you and somehow still gets to dig his grubby fingers into you, bruising you like the soft skin of overripe peaches, sinking his teeth into you. you're so smitten with him meanwhile he's convinced that he's the scum of the eart, undeserving to be the dirt beneath your feet. dreamy sigh.

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