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pokechbi · 3 months

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Healing Simon (Chapter 3)

NSFW (18+) MDNI !!!

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Psychiatrist!femreader

WC: 2.3k!

made Simon in this smut scene a little *desperate*, which is something i'm fairly new to so lmk how u guys like it! T-T

enjoy lovies ! <3

Your back presses against the glass of the car window, the cold seeping through the fabric of your jacket. Nothing could pull you from it, or from him. Simon’s mouth was delicious. You didn’t expect it to be anything less, but hot damn. His tongue snaking its way into your mouth, your lips wrapping around it and eliciting a groan from his throat. He slowed his pace, allowing you to suck on his tongue with an unmistakable ferocity. You wondered just how long it would be until you were bobbing your head against the hardening cock between his legs instead. He presses his leg between your thighs, silently giving you the okay to grind your clothed heat against him.

You do just that, a moan escaping from between your lips, the contact sending a soaring heat to your core as you move your hips. You’re practically sitting on his lap now, the wetness seeping through your panties and onto his jeans. You relish in the taste of him, the smell of him and the pure, raw and sexual energy flowing between the both of you. You whine, frustrated at the need for your release.

He separates from the kiss, dragging his lips against yours painfully slow. “So eager to cum already, love?”

You feel his breath, hot against your lips and taunting you as you inhale his scent deeply. You look up at him with pleading eyes, your lips parted and mouth left empty and cold, breathing heavily. You see the smirk spread across his perfect lips, glossy, wet, and puffy from the vigorous kissing. He takes his bottom lip between his teeth and brings his hand up to your face. You watch it as he runs his thumb across your cheek, trailing across your jawline until he reaches your chin. His thumb presses against your lips, big enough to shush your labored breathing. You smile, still aware of your ass basically sat atop his leg.

A car passes you by, honking loudly at the scene of you and Simon eye fucking each other against the door of your car. He pulls his balaclava back over his mouth swiftly, his eyes never leaving yours as he slowly pulls his leg from between your thighs. He looked down at it, a smug chuckle leaving his lips.

“What a pretty mess you’ve made” He purrs against your ears.

Your heart thumped so hard, it felt like it’d break a hole through your chest and run away.

The honking snapped you out of the moment, the realization dawning on you. You had kissed your patient. And not only did you kiss him, but you practically dry humped his leg in public while he fucked your mouth with his tongue. You look down at the wet spot on his jeans, something else stirring inside you. Guilt? No. Arousal? Maybe.

You smile to yourself, partly embarrassed, partly wishing the mess was made on his face instead.

“I’m not usually that eager during a kiss” You chuckle.

“Well now I’m curious to see how much more eager you can get.” He teases, his fingers trailing against your hips, his voice lowering to nearly a whisper. You smile, pushing your guilty thoughts aside. You raise your hands, sliding them under his shirt. You feel his stomach tense, the heat of his scarred skin warming your cold hands as you look into his eyes. He lets out a breath, one that seemed he was holding as soon as you touched him. He steps closer, closing the gap between you.

“Let me show you, Simon..” You lower your tone, the heat simmering in your core rising up to coat your voice in pure need. You see his eyes slant as he smirks, the smile falling softly as you touch him.

You raise your hands up, pressing your nails into his skin softly, dragging them down his stomach. You reach his belt, tugging at it as you take your bottom lip between your teeth in a suppressed grin. He lets his arms hang loose, letting you tease him. Simon didn’t strike you as the risky type, or one to do things like this in a public place. So you decide to press him until he breaks. If he’ll break. You unzip his jacket, watching as his muscular chest rises and falls slowly.

You press the button to unlock your car door, opening it with one hand while you hook the other through his belt loop with your pointer finger. You fall into the backseat, pulling him towards you. He ducks as he gets in, sitting in the seat next to you. His towering frame makes your car look tiny. Simon is just so masculinely…there. Every cell in your body screamed to jump his bones, but you persisted. As he adjusted himself, closing the door behind him, peering at him while kneeling on the seat next to him. You watched him, your eyes trailing down his jaw and chest, until your gaze reaches the growing shaft trapped in his jeans.

You smile to yourself, reaching over and tugging his jacket off. He helps you, leaning over to kiss you softly as you drag it down his broad shoulders. Your lips wrap around each other’s hungrily, soft grunts and moans filling the air. Once his jacket is off, you stare at his arms in awe. They’re covered in a sleeve of tattoos, all the way down to his wrist. Some decipherable, some not. You run your fingers over them, the hairs on his arm prickling at your touch. He parts from the kiss softly, eyeing you. Your fingers run over a scar or two, the muscle in his arms tensing as you get near them. But he stays, watching you with curious eyes as you touch him.

“Got a story for each of ‘em, if you want to hear sometime.” He says so quietly, you almost didn’t hear. You smile at him, running your hand down his arm, landing in his hand. You interlace your fingers with his, noticing how he squeezes your hand in his.

“I’d love to” He chuckles lowly at your reply. He wraps his arm around your waist, pulling you toward his lap. You stop him, placing a finger against his chest. You smile teasingly, backing up as you get on your knees. He chuckles, his hand grabbing his shaft through his pants, adjusting himself. He grunts as he squeezes it, a pained look in his eyes. You kiss his chest through his shirt, making your way up to his throat, licking and softly biting the skin exposed between his shirt and his balaclava. His stubble is rough on your tongue, the delicious smell of his cologne wafting through your nose. He throws his head back, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallows, the anticipation killing him inside.

You smile, kissing your way back down to his stomach, feeling the firmness of his abdomen through the fabric of his shirt against your lips. He reaches up, placing a hand softly on the back of your head. He entangles his hand in your hair, following the flow of your head. He rubs your scalp, running his fingers through your hair, and twirling strands of your hair around his fingers. He lets you tease him, soft grunts and groans caressing your ears.

When you finally reach his belt buckle, he looks down at you, his eyes lidded with frustration, his breathing heavy and labored. You suppress your smile, keeping eye contact as you slowly undo his belt. You swiftly undo the button on his jeans, unzipping them slowly. He pushes his hips forward, a desperate look in his eyes. You move your head back, with just an inch to spare between your mouth and his clothed cock. You hook your fingers in his belt buckles, pulling his jeans down while his bottom is off the seat. You drag them down his legs, never breaking eye contact as they fall around his ankles. You lean forward, rubbing your hands up his legs, trailing them inside his thighs. You smell the arousal coming off of his cock, noticing a small wet spot on the gray boxers tightly hugging his thick frame. You place a soft kiss on it, rubbing your tongue against the wet fabric. He huffs, throwing his head back against the seat.

“Please, baby.”

Your ears perk up, the sound of Simon becoming so sexually frustrated because of you..it stirs your core. You smile, not responding with words. Instead, you take the hem of his boxers, pulling them down just enough to expose the head of his cock. You watch it in awe, swollen and ready. You lean down, running your tongue around it, taking it between your lips and sucking softly.

Simon moans roughly, groaning with a hint of a whine in his voice. You continue teasing the head of his shaft, his hands slowly pulling his boxers down more and more. You pretend you don’t notice, taking more and more of him between your lips as he pulls them down. You help him, dragging them down his legs until they reach his ankles. He huffs in relief as you take him in your hand. Hot to the touch, hard, and huge. The size of it makes you pulse from the inside out, the thought of him filling you fully, forcing you to take every inch until you adjust to him and love it, begging him to never stop.

“Like what you see, love?” He says, a breathy chuckle escaping his lips. You look up at him, a wide grin on your face as you nod your head yes. He smiles back down at you, evident in his eyes as his gaze flits between his cock and your lips. You maintain eye contact as you take him into your mouth again, your mouth beginning to water at the taste of him. You wrap your hand around the base of him, taking as much as you can into your mouth. The tip hits the back of your throat, with a considerable amount of length to spare between your lips and your hand. You bob your head, allowing your wet lips to drag against his cock, the warmth of him making your salivary glands weep. You begin to feel saliva drip down your fingers, dripping down to his balls. You let go of him, rubbing his balls in your hand instead. His hips buck forward as you do this, a strained groan ringing into the air.

“F-fuck..don’t stop” He pants.

You weren’t planning on it. But you don’t say that. Good girls don’t talk with their mouths full, do they?

You look into his eyes, watching him as he admires you. You slowly push your head forward, his cock filling your mouth with every inch you take. Your cheeks puff out as you gag, feeling the tip of his cock stretch your throat. Your eyelids flutter closed, tears beginning to well as you try your hardest to breathe out of your nose. Simon softly places a hand on the back of your head, keeping you in place. You don’t fight it, the feeling of his shaft growing harder a telltale sign that this is not the time to stop. Your back arches as you relax it, trying to angle yourself comfortably.

“I’m close, love..” He says, his voice now higher pitched, a throaty whine in his tone. He lets you up, and you don’t waste a second before you massage his balls again, bobbing your head at a steady pace as you feel his legs tremble under you. You wrap your other hand around the base of his cock, stroking him as you suck the rest of him.

“Fuckkkk- '' He lets out a strained groan as you feel him twitch in your mouth, pushing himself back into your throat. He grabs the sides of your head, bobbing it up and down on his cock as he thrusts upwards. Your eyes spill tears, your nose running and your lips swollen as he finishes inside your throat. Hot spurts of cum threaten to overflow the tight fit, as his chest rises and falls.

He pulls your head up slowly, bringing you face to face with him. Your eyes lidded with lust, you stare at him with a lazy close-lipped smile on your face. He presses a thumb against your lips, his eyes grazing over your features.

“Swallow, baby.” You do as you're told, swallowing the stray drops of his seed pooling on your tongue.

“Good girl.”

…

You sit in your passenger's side seat as Simon drives back to your office. You frantically fix your makeup in the sun visor, trying to make it look like you didn’t just deepthroat your patient. You notice Simon glance at you from the driver’s side, a cloud of satisfaction surrounding him. He reaches over, placing a hand on your thigh. You smile at the gesture.

As he pulls into the parking lot on base, you flip the sun visor back up, satisfied with your makeup again. You smooth your hair on your head, smirking to yourself. You take a minute, you and Simon watching each other with shit-eating grins on your faces. Before you reach for the door handle, he grabs your hand.

“Same time next week?”

You bite your lip, looking him up and down. You’ll never get used to seeing him like this, a stark contrast to the stoic soldier you never thought you’d crack.

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pokechbi · 3 months

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pokechbi · 3 months

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Healing Simon (Chapter 2)

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Psychiatrist!femreader

MDNI !!

WC: 2.1k

enjoy lovies <3 I missed you all! pray to the writing gods that I get out of this funk lol

You stared at the email on your laptop, the cursor blinking on the empty reply line. You chew your nail as you think of a reply. You had given your email to Simon to contact you whenever he needed to talk outside of your office, but never expected him to actually use it considering how he was practically forced by Price to attend your sessions. Although something in you knew it wasn’t so forced anymore. It had been a week since your last session, the night before you’d see him again.

Having a hard time tonight. Can you talk?

-LSR

You typed your reply, hitting send without a second thought.

Absolutely, Simon. You have my number :)

Less than a minute later, your phone rang. You let it ring twice before picking it up.

“Hello?” You say, a slight shake in your voice. You definitely weren’t used to clients calling you personally. Especially this late.

“Up at this time?” He says smugly. You hear the smirk in his voice. You smile, scratching the skin behind your ear.

“Couldn’t sleep. What about you?” You reply.

“Same here. Don’t you have to be up early?”

You lick your lips, biting back a smile at his concern. His voice gruff, yet gentle and warm in your ears.

“I’ll be alright, Simon. What’s been on your mind?”

He takes a pause before speaking. The line is quiet, a stark contrast to your TV running in the background. You grab the remote, muting it.

“Just need to talk, love. That’s all.” His change of tone has you concerned, realizing you need to distract him. But nothing has you captivated more than his painfully British nickname for you. Love. It flows off his tongue so easily, so sweetly. Feels like sugar running through your veins, sweetening you.

“I’ve been gardening lately. Probably not the right time, considering how it's almost winter.” You chuckle. You replied on a whim, knowing he probably could not have cared less about your failed gardening experiments. You hear him chuckle on the other end, the sound shocking you as you haven’t heard his genuine laugh in the months he’d been seeing you.

“What are you growing? Or trying to, at least.” His sarcastic remark makes you smile wider, a small giggle leaving your lips. It was nice, being able to hear how he sounded outside of your office, talking about things that seem small and insignificant. Like a close friend.

“Well, I’ve managed to sprout a few tomato plants, some green onions too. Those things grow like crazy.” You respond.

The line goes quiet again. You fill the silence.

“I’ve got some nice indoor plants too, they’re less complicated to care for, you know?”

“What kind?” He asks.

“The easy kind” You reply, the smile evident in your voice. He chuckles. You feel good, knowing you’re helping him. Even if it’s the smallest bit.

“I can’t keep a plant alive to save my life. Just got no time for it.” He continues with a gentle sigh. You smirk to yourself, imagining Simon overwatering a plant, thinking he was helping it rather than killing it.

“I can show you a thing or two, if you want?” You ask. You don’t know what came over you, or why you thought he’d want to learn how to care for a plant by his psychiatrist. “I’m no expert, though.” You continue, not wanting to break the moment.

“I’d like that.” He seems to jump at the opportunity, not regarding the insinuation that he’d need to come to your apartment to do so. You lie down, turning on your side as you stare at the wall ahead of you.

“Who knows, maybe you’ll become good at it.” You say gently, a hint of hopefulness in your voice, fully knowing Simon was not the type of man to be good at gardening. It couldn’t hurt to try, though.

“I’m sure with a teacher like you love, I’d be good at anything.” He catches you off guard, your eyes widening and mouth hanging agape. You try to find the words, but he interrupts you.

“Thank you for taking my call.” He says, his voice sounding distant. “I needed it.”

You take your lip between your teeth, biting back a smile. “Of course, Simon. I’m here for you. Always.”

“Night, love.” He says, the smirk evident in his voice.

“Goodnight, Simon. See you tomorrow.” You hang up. Your mind races miles a minute, repeating his words in your head.

With a teacher like you, love, I’d be good at anything.

So you weren’t the only one feeling it.

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You sat at your desk, the clock creeping to 2:00PM. Your appointment with Simon was in less than 10 minutes, and you were still strongly feeling the effects of what he said to you last night.

Am I overthinking this? Is he just being friendly? Is he naturally flirtatious?

The questions ran through your head and swarmed through your subconscious. There was no possible way he was actually into you. There were plenty of factors at play. You had been the only one picking at his brain for the past six months, the only one who seemed to care enough to know what was going through his head. Was it that? Or was it the fact that you had been the only consistent thing in his life, and it was taking a toll on him?

You got up, pacing behind your desk as you waited for him. Sure, you were attracted to him. You liked his presence, his strong, unwavering aura. He was a man who was sure of himself, and that was a guaranteed turn on for women who had only managed to attract the wrong types of attention from all the wrong kinds of men.

And yet, there you were: spraying extra perfume in all the most intimate places. Behind your ears, your upper forearms, your ankles. Today, your dress being shorter than the pencil skirts you usually wore, the v-cut just a tad bit deeper. Your heels just a bit higher and your legs just a smidge more shaved than usual.

A knock at the door brings you out of your head. You throw your hair behind your shoulders, walking over to the door. You pause for a moment, then swing it open. Simon stands there, in his usual attire. You notice his eyes shift under his balaclava, a glint of something different in him today. You take notice of this, stepping to the side as you let him in. You close the door behind you, directing him to the chair as if he hadn’t been sitting in it every week for months now. You walk to your desk, your strides slow and calculated.

“I like your dress. What’s the occasion?” He asks suddenly. You turn to him, noticing how his eyes slightly struggle to stay above your chest. You smile to yourself at him noticing your change in attire.

“No occasion, I just felt like looking nice today, that’s all.” He hums in response, nodding his head slightly.

“You always look nice.” You chuckle softly. You walk towards the chair across from him, sitting slowly, keeping your eyes on his. You notice his gaze flit to your legs, and back up to your eyes. The boldness of his glances made your heart leap in your chest.

“Well thank you, Simon. I’m glad you think so.” You fidget with your fingers, keeping eye contact with him. “Do you want to pick up where we left off last week?” You open your notepad and uncap your pen. “What’s on your mind today?”

“Not letting me forget why I’m here, huh.” He chuckles softly, resting his right ankle on his left knee. Simon was often hard to read. And he knew that. He only expressed what he wanted people to see, and it frustrated you. You were putting some serious elbow grease into picking at his brain, yet he kept his walls impenetrable, letting you in slowly but surely.

You capped your pen, setting your notepad aside. You looked at him and smiled gently, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. You leaned back in your chair, folding your leg over the other. You had a feeling this day would come, when Simon needed a break from the professional shrink-talk. He needed a friend, one that didn’t constantly remind him of his duties as a soldier. Someone to get away with. One that wasn’t legally obligated to share his thoughts and innermost secrets with his superiors.

You see a hint of amusement in his eyes as you continue to exchange looks to each other. The silence was growing, but not uncomfortable. He watched as you got up and walked over to the door where your jacket hung. He kept his eyes on you while you put it on, your dress rising slightly as you raised your arms.

“You like coffee?” You ask, grabbing your purse and opening the door. He chuckles, rising from his seat and following you out.

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“They’re closed.” Simon says, bending down to read the cafe’s open hours. You peer inside, seeing nothing but chairs on the tables and the lights completely off.

“Well, shit.” You say, laughing to yourself. He looks down at you, and you swear you see a hint of a smile in his eyes. “What now?” You say shyly, the embarrassment evident on your face.

“Your offer for the gardening lesson. Does it still stand?” He says. You smile, hearing the smirk in his voice. Your breath catches in your throat, thoughts racing through your head. Surely it would be unprofessional. It was completely forbidden in the psychiatry world to allow a client into your home, much less a client who had unbearable tension with you. It scared you. The thought of being alone with him, in close quarters. What would happen? You’re sure Simon wasn’t stupid. He knew what was at play. The stolen glances, the slight flirting between you two over the months. It was obvious.

“Of course. We can have coffee at mine instead.” You say, breaking the silence. He nods, following you back to your car. As you walk back down the street, the wind picks up and your hair flies everywhere. You give up on trying to keep it in place, letting it flow wild. The wind blows your dress uncomfortably high, and you feel a breeze hit you in places that shouldn’t be hit. You look back to Simon, noticing how he watches you struggle to keep it down. You smile at him, smiling nervously. How embarrassing.

You reach your car, pulling your keys from your jacket pocket. Before you could pull the door open, you feel a strong hand wrap around your wrist. His touch on your skin feels comfortably warm, in contrast with the biting cold. You turn, meeting him eye to eye, your lips hanging agape. He takes a step towards you, your chests only inches apart.

“Thank you. For getting out with me.” He says, the look in his eyes sincere. You stare up at him, looking between his eyes. Oh how badly you wanted to reach up and kiss him. The urge settles deep in your stomach. You place your hand on his bicep, squeezing gently. He looks at your hand and places it over yours. He takes it in his, interlacing your fingers. The warmth from his hand spreads throughout your body, settling in your core. It was strong and big, his grip unwavering and protecting.

“Anytime, Simon.” You reply, the shake in your voice giving you away completely. He leans down, pressing his forehead to yours. You close your eyes, tightening your hold on his hand and wrapping your other arm around his neck instinctively.

What the hell has gotten into me? This can’t happen. It feels wrong. He’s my patient, for Christ's sake. But fuck, does it feel so good. He’s so warm. So..big.

You feel his hand rest on your hip, squeezing slightly. You relax into his touch, his body heat practically melting you. You open your eyes, and take a step back.

He wastes no time in lifting his mask, and pressing his lips to yours.

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pokechbi · 5 months

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hi love! would you be able to write a request for ghost x psychiatrist!femreader 👀 who works with task force 141 but she spends her sessions with ghost who always ends up fucking her 😈 (highly unprofessional ik but she melts for him )

also i LOVE your work sm, can I be 🧠 anon?🥺

i have risen :3

Got this idea from this lovely anon <33 tysm!!! Much luv to u bb!! Happy to say that I am making this one a continuing story!!! (dw i havent forgotten ab the other ones lol)

Healing Simon (chapter 1)

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem Reader

NSFW!! MDNI

Fem reader, fem anatomy used

WC: 1.2K

Enjoy <33

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“As for your past, Lieutenant, we’ll be sure to discuss that when you’re ready. If you’re ever ready. Not that there’s anything wrong with wanting to keep it private. Sometimes, there are things we must keep to ourselves no matter what. You don’t owe me, or anyone else an explanation.” You end your sentence calmly, knowing you had the tendency to ramble. Sometimes your clients didn’t need to hear it all at once. It’s how you kept them coming back. How you kept him coming back.

He looks past your shoulders, out of the window behind you. Your clients had the tendency to do so, since the view from the window was mesmerizing. You folded your legs, gently swinging your leg over the other and feeling the leather of the chair peel away from your thigh. You looked behind you, glancing in the same direction he was looking. The tall trees swayed in the fall wind, moving in unison as if to purposely entrance their observers. You felt weirdly jealous of them at times. They seemed to be more therapeutic to your clients than you were. You keep your eyes on him, hearing his breaths behind his balaclava ever so slightly. Deep, balanced and even. He was stoic in all the right ways, his expression never changing. You look downwards, observing the way his jacket hugs his muscles in all the right places. You take in his broad shoulders and chest, a slight heat simmering at your ears. Your eyes flutter upwards once again, noticing the sliver of skin on his neck peeking out from the gap between his balaclava and his jacket collar. You also notice the slight glint of his dog tag chain shining in the light coming from the window. Looking up at his eyes once again, you almost jump as you realize they’re on you. His stare is heavy, weighing your words back down your throat.

You smile sweetly, capping your pen and sticking it inside your notebook, setting it on the small end table beside you.

“Simon, our time is nearly up for today. Went by fast didn’t it?” You ask, trying to stir his attention away from the fact that he just caught you checking him out. You cringe internally, wondering if he’ll bring it up or not.

“Yeah, it did.” His gruff voice comes out almost a whisper. His accent soft on your ears, his eyes seemingly peeling away at every layer of you each time he looked at you. His eyes flit down to your legs, and back up to your face. You smile at him, your heart doing somersaults in your chest as you fidget with your fingers. He stands suddenly, starting his walk to the door. You stand as well, slowly trailing behind him. The smell of him wafts into your nose. It was intoxicating. Addicting, even. A mix of settled cologne, the familiar scent of his laundry detergent mixing with his musky body odor. The smell of him took you by the throat and forced its way into your subconscious. You craved that smell, the manly, homely smell of him.

He stops at the door, looking down at you. His height was significantly higher than yours, your head only reaching to his shoulder. You look up at him through your lashes, placing your hand on his back and rubbing ever so slightly. The muscles tense under your touch, but he doesn’t move. Not an inch. Your mind betrays you, the thought of what his skin might feel like under your nails as he split you open races through your head.

“You did great today, Simon.” You say softly, giving him a reassuring pat on his back. His eyes flit between yours before he starts out of the door again.

“Same time next week, love?” He asks. He had such a smug way of speaking. Such a smug way of making you weak in the knees without even touching you. And he knew it. You nod at him, smiling sweetly as you shut the door to your office. Placing your back on the door, you run your hands through your hair, hearing his footsteps fade down the hall towards the elevator.

You walk over to your desk and sit down. The chair creaks under you, the silence of the office driving you insane. Your head raced with thoughts. All about him.

No one in the psychiatry ward had managed to keep consistent appointments with the Lieutenant. He was a hard nut to crack. The hardest you’d ever attempted. You were getting there, slowly but surely. People swarmed you with questions in the office, everywhere you went.

“What does he talk about?”

“How come he doesn’t talk with anyone else?”“Does he tell you anything about the missions?”

“Have you seen his face?”

“Doesn’t he scare you?”

“Can you get his number for me?”

Questions ranged from pure curiosity, to just downright trying to break patient-confidentiality. It pissed you off. They acted as if he were untouchable. Unlovable. All he needed was to be humanized. You couldn’t imagine how tired he was of his reputation around the base. Never being treated as a normal soldier. Not that he was a normal soldier, anyway. He had earned his rep. But you kept that to yourself.

When his captain showed up in your office, slamming his file on your desk and begging you to make it work, you knew you had to. Price sat across from you, frustrated and scared of losing his best soldier. Not to war, or battle, but to his own mind. Simon had a nasty habit of bottling things up. Letting his thoughts get the best of him and letting them chip away at his sanity until he broke. He holed himself up, letting his trauma dictate who he was not only as a soldier, but as a person.

You hadn’t quite managed to persuade him into unpacking his past just yet. It seemed like an unattainable milestone some days, but others, you came mighty close to it. You spoke to Simon as a friend, not just as his psychiatrist. Each visit, you felt closer and closer to him. To his mind.

As a professional, you knew it would be wrong to take your relationship outside of the two chairs he came to sit in once a week. You thought about him every time you had a quiet moment to yourself. It was becoming something you couldn’t control. It had gone to stealing glances, to unknowingly checking him out any chance you could get. He’d catch you every time, yet never said anything about it.

But he kept coming back, right? The thought made your heart leap in your chest.

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pokechbi · 5 months

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Two months of being gone isn't that long, right? RIGHT?!!

i have twitter now too :3 @pokechobitz

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pokechbi · 8 months

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Waiting for "I bled for you" pt two hhhhh

ITS UP!! GO CRAZY GO STUPID AAAAAAA

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pokechbi · 8 months

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🎀 “I bled for you, dear”PT. 2 🎀

WE BACK !!

Pokechbi?! Doing a pt 2?!

NSFW !! MDNI 🔞

Obsessive König x fem reader

WC: 2.3K

Side note: I rly do want to work on making this a continuing fic, so any and all feedback is greatly appreciated!! 💗

As always, enjoy my lovelys 💗

You fiddle with your fingernails, feeling your palms grow clammy with every painful minute. The leather of the chair sticks to your thighs, your pencil skirt doing nothing to hide the nervous perspiration of your skin. You look to the floor, averting his gaze.

“I am pleased to see that you’ve come to visit me, schatz. But what I cannot understand is why you are sat in that chair, toying with those freshly manicured nails, acting as if you don’t want to sink them into my skin as I fuck you brainless.”

You freeze in place, your eyes shifting up to meet his. Your lips hang agape, opening and closing as if you were a fish out of water. And a fish out of water you were. You tread on thin ice, a mere prey blissfully unaware of the territory you were frolicking on. Countless times you tried convincing yourself that you were just hooking up. Taking what you needed from each other and moving on. You were lying to yourself, straight out of your teeth. And that was the stark contrast between you both. König knew what he wanted. He was a sure man, never sure of anything more. While you sat, debating in your head and weighing your options, he stalked. He watched, studied, and observed. He fantasized about all of the possible ways he could bend you, stretch you, break you. You knew fighting it was useless. Foolish, even. Every cell in your body yearned for his touch. His name on your tongue, his acknowledgment of your existence. The validation you sought from him was unhealthy for any woman to crave. But that didn’t stop you from being mercilessly stabbed and prodded at by these needs and desires. You’ve had your fair share of sexual relations. But nothing compared to the dynamic you had with König. Nothing. No one. And that scared you to all hell. You knew by the time he left you at the medical wing, your shoes glued to the ground as your head burned and boiled with all of the different things he made you feel. And he hadn’t even fucked you yet. And as you sat in that chair, his dark eyes roaming over your body and studying your every move, there was nowhere else you’d rather be.

“Hey, meine Liebe. Stay with me now.” König snaps his fingers at you, ripping you from your thoughts. His voice held a tone of amusement, a breathy chuckle leaving his lips as he watched you. Something about being condescended to by him made him all the more impressive. Any other man would have been met with a fist to the face, or a look of disapproval from your sad eyes. Your stomach rolled around with nerves as you came to this realization. You kept quiet, resting your hands on your thighs.

“Stand up, Liebling. Come to me.” You rose to your feet, your heels feeling heavier than they did a few minutes ago. As you make your way around his desk, you take notice of the mess of paperwork scattered across the surface. He reaches his hand out. You look at it before taking it in yours, the sheer size of his fingers sending shivers down your spine. His grip was gentle, bringing your hand up to his mask. He lifts it above his nose, planting a soft kiss on your fingers.

“Your hands are beautiful, dear. Keep them that way, ja?” He coos, planting more kisses along your fingers. You sway at his words, noticing the smile growing on his face as he watches you. He leans forward, grabbing your other hand as he brings them both to his shoulders. You give them a gentle squeeze, stepping forward as you slide them down his back. You bring them back up, embracing him in your arms. He rests his head on your chest, the hard plastic of his helmet digging into the soft flesh of your breasts. He lets out a deep sigh, his arms snaking around your waist.

The soft embrace came to a halt as he let out a grunt, standing to his full height and stepping towards you, backing you into the desk. Instinctively, his hands make their way to your hips as he turns you around, your back facing his chest. Your breath catches in your throat, a lump forming in your chest as you feel him press into your ass. You feel him grow stiff in his cargo pants, a huff escaping his lips as he wastes no time in hiking your skirt up to your waist. You feel the cool air of his office hit your bare cheeks, the lacy black panties you wore purposely now on full display.

“You really are a sight to behold, my dear. What I wouldn’t give to have the taste of you linger on my lips for all of eternity.” König purrs against your skin, his breath raising the hair on your body. He leaves a trail of searing kisses on your neck, biting and sucking at the skin. He leaves bite marks and bruises in his wake, marking you as his. A telltale sign of possession, that boiling hot feeling in his gut that drives him absolutely insane when in your presence. The urge to destroy you, to make you melt under his very gaze. He takes notice of your choice in underwear, the gesture sending a searing hot primal energy through his veins that coincide with his intentions to absolutely devour you. As if you were made specifically for him, to fulfill his every desire. His hands keep your skirt bunched up, and you feel him lower to his knees behind you.

“Please, taste me König. I need it.” You say breathlessly, the need for him dripping off your tongue.

“Tell me again, Schatz. What do you need?” He asks, inching closer to the spot between your legs that aches for him so, so badly.

“Please..just taste me. I need your mouth on me.” Your cheeks grow hot as he makes you talk, the unfamiliar demands on your tongue electrocuting your nerves. You feel him hum against your skin, his finger hooking under the band of your panties. He kisses along your ass, biting the soft skin and leaving dark purple hickeys where only he can see them. You cry out as he does this, the pain and pleasure swirling through your blood like a drug. You feel him tighten his grip on your panties, only a second later hearing the fabric rip. You gasp, looking behind you at the man on his knees, his face inches away from your heat. He looks up at you, holding the torn lace up to his face as if it were a mere fishing catch.

He wastes no time in shoving them in his pocket, turning his attention to your exposed ass once more. You feel his breath go closer to your heat, hearing him inhale your scent deeply. You push your hips backwards, letting out a shaky breath as you feel his lips against your folds. Uncharacteristically slow, his tongue makes its way between your lips, reaching up and grazing your clit. Your body jolts at the contact, the warmth and wetness of his tongue lubricating your skin. Your legs instinctively part themselve, giving him further access to your most intimate parts. You feel his hands grip your inner thighs, spreading you open from behind. The mixture of temperatures, his warm tongue teasing your entrance and the cold air grazing your clit driving you nuts. He lets out a loud groan, the vibrations of his voice pounding through your body.

You feel him rise, hovering over your back as his hands grip your hips. You can feel the way he’s practically bursting a hole in his cargos, growing harder by the second. He grinds it against your ass, a soft moan escaping his lips as his cock makes contact with you through his pants. He turns you around once more, your back now shoved against the desk. You waste no time hopping on top of it, parting your legs as König’s head dives back between your thighs. He licks and sucks at your clit like a man starved, and a man starved he was. The taste of you on his tongue was enough to make his balls tighten with arousal and his chest to burn with red hot passion. He got off on pleasing you, the masculine power he felt while hearing your moans and whimpers slide off your tongue like hot honey. And to know he was the cause for them drove him mad.

He continues his wrath on your pussy, his tongue lapping at all the right spots. He leaves no part of your cunt unlicked as you writhe beneath him, your thighs tightening around his head.

“You taste like heaven, mein liebe. What a lucky man I am.” He purrs, his hands making their way between your thighs, prying them open. He rises a few inches from your heat, staring down at your pussy as if it were a prized possession. A trophy to reward him for his bloody endeavors. He wastes no time in diving back between your legs, a groan escaping his lips as he finishes his work on you. He rises to his feet, looming over you. His dog tags dangle over your face, glistening in the lights of his office. They sway back and forth, hypnotizing you as you try to catch a glimpse of the engraving on the battered metal.

Before you could protest, you hear his pants drop to the floor and the tip of his monstrous cock slides between your folds. He lets out a grunt as he lubricates himself with you, slapping his heavy shaft against your clit repeatedly. Your body jolts as he does this, the wrath of his tongue still coursing through your veins. He chuckles at your sensitivity to him, your body’s response to him being nothing more than primal. He mewls in the way his actions grip you, his every touch making you whine, moan, and whimper against your will.

He leans down to your face, lifting his mask over his chin as he latches on to your lips. The hot breath from his nose wafts into yours, forcing you to practically inhale him as if he were the last bit of oxygen on earth. He parts from the kiss, looking downwards as he pushes into your tight walls. You watch him as he thrusts ever so slightly, his cock meeting resistance only halfway.

“Open up for me, love.” He purrs, his accent thick on his tongue. You moan aloud against his shoulder, forcing yourself to take him all. The pressure inside of you is indescribable, the pain of him splitting you in two being practically palpable.

“Shhh, I know Schatz. I know. You are taking me so well already.” He purrs. You can hear the satisfaction in his voice, knowing how he’s enjoying your delicious pain. He knows he’s ruined you for any other man. He’s well aware of the fact that you both have started something you cannot finish, how your conscience screams and tears at you to beware of the consequences of this newfound addiction. Yet you stay there, your legs spread for him and your plushy walls fluttering around his cock as if you couldn’t get enough of him.

“Braves Mädchen. Look how well you are taking me” (Good girl) his voice comes out strained, struggling to keep himself from utterly destroying you right there on his desk, not a care in the world about who could hear you scream and cry as he pounds into you mercilessly. His thrusts take up speed, the desk groaning and creaking under your weights as you bite your lip, begging yourself not to let the entire base know what was happening behind that door. His hand travels up your chest, resting on your throat as his other hand finds its way to your clit. He thumbs at it rhythmically, in sync with his thrusts. Your mouth hangs agape, a familiar warmth and tightness forming in your core. You aren’t far from your end, trying to fight it away with every fiber of your being, as to let this moment last forever.

“König” you strain, his head snapping up to watch your face as the pleasure rips through you. Your thighs shake and tremble around his waist, his thrusts speeding up as he fucks you slower, deeper. He groans and grunts as he keeps his eyes on you, your face contorting and your eyes crossing as he doesn’t let up.

“That’s right, my good girl. Let it take you” his thrusts falter as his hand leaves your clit. He grabs your legs, pushing them against your chest as he presses his weight against them. You feel the pressure grow in your chest, his pace slowly but steadily rising and slowing as he feels himself about to burst at the seams. You watch his eyes behind his sniper hood as they soften, his grunts turning into whines and groans as he slams into you, all the way to the hilt. You feel his cock twitch inside of you, followed by the warmth of his seed spilling into you deeply. He halts, breathing over you heavily while he lets your legs fall back around his waist. He leans down, resting his head on your breasts.

You wrap your arms around his shoulders as you stare at the ceiling, caressing the mountain of a man. A tear rolls down your cheek, falling onto the desk below you.

🌷

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pokechbi · 8 months

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Love your stuff! But generally, you don't include two characters speaking in the same paragraph.

Example of how it should be: "Blah blah blah," said Character A.

"Blah blah blah." Agreed Character B.

Not: "Blah blah blah," Said character A. "blah blah blah." Said character B. The two looked at each other now. "Blah blah blah again." Character B groaned. "Blah blah blah impossible." Yelled Character A. They grew worried now, the tension growing thick. "Blah blah blah, I wanted ice cream." Character B clarified.

Also. You can break up paragraphs. Walls of text are not your friend.

💀

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pokechbi · 8 months

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which ever skank anon said that to pookie pokechbi can shove it

SRSLY HAHA -

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pokechbi · 8 months

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Unlike the creature the previous disgusting annon is, I am here to thank you

Thank you for sharing your works with us, personally I am enjoying them greatly ! They are amazing like mg lol they made me bark too ngl I am thirsty 😌

Love you 🫰🏻💕 Hope you're having an amazing week so far ❣️ -💀

I love you SOOO much anon! Asks like this are the reason my heart swells with joy every time I receive one. I adore writing for you all and receiving all this love 💗 I hope you have an amazing one!

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pokechbi · 8 months

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I will ✨ FIGHT✨ that anon if that's the reason you haven't been active 👊😫

AHHHH! absolutely not love xx life has been a wild ride this year, but writing for you horny babes is what I take the most pride in! will be trying to push some stuff out this coming week while handling life and trying not to burn out 💗💗 I love love love you all!

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pokechbi · 8 months

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not trying to be rude AT ALL!! i truly love your writing and you write AMAZING but i just wanted to ask genuinely, why when describing the readers hair you always write it to be curly? just a question, you don’t have to answer but i was just curious! Anyways, love your fics and keep up the awesome work! 🤍

Hi Anon! Totally fair question! And thank you soooo much for the compliment💗💗

I myself find curly hair to have much more personality if that makes sense :) technically speaking, you can do so much with it. You can straighten it, poof it up, and there’s just too many adjectives to describe it which makes writing about it all the more fun<3 and say for example I wanted to write about the reader straightening her hair or doing something special/different with it, I want to be able to have the space to write about such a situation. Hope that makes sense lovely!💗🎀

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pokechbi · 9 months

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girl who hurt you so much everything you write is so pathetic and sad 😂 your life must be so embarrassing

HELP what crawled up your ass and died? 😂 such a miserable person 😭🤚

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pokechbi · 9 months

Text

“I bled for you, dear. You are mine now.”

WHEWWIEEE this one’s a bit different than my usual ones. Hope you all enjoy! 💗

As always, EVERY single interaction is so so greatly appreciated!!

- (Obsessive/Psychotic) König x fem reader

- 18+ MDNI !!!

- CW: blood, SH

- Not my usual smut, pt 2 with more smut is otw!

💗💗

Maybe it was your eyes. Everyone always told you that your eyes were the most expressive part of you. Or maybe it was your hair. The way it hung loosely around your shoulders, sinuously curly and sticking to your forehead when you sweat. Or was it your body? The way your clothes fit snugly against your curves, accentuating the parts of yourself you tried hiding the most. You didn’t know what it was about you that captivated him so badly. That made him like you. That made him utterly infatuated with you.

His failed attempts at subtlety rang through your mind at the end of your work days, your brain swirling with possibilities and hopeless, endless cycles of painful obsessions. His behavior was unhealthy. Obsessive. One of a stalker. But you found yourself thinking of him at night, your mind being your worst enemy. You knew he wasn’t right in the head. He wasn’t right at all. No one in his line of work could be. His hands were bathed in the blood of more men than you could ever comprehend. His mind was filled with constant thoughts of death, battle, fighting, killing. He was a beast of a man, physically and mentally incapable of compassion. In no way was he made for any kind of lasting relationship. And you knew that. Yet, as your fingers made their way between your legs at night, thoughts of him on the battlefield slashing, stabbing, shooting, strangling, penetrated your mind like a train in a tunnel too small.

You’d see him at least twice a week in the infirmary. You’d stitched his mysterious wounds countless times, your flesh burning with every feathery brush of your hands against his skin. Like a snail to salt. You knew it was wrong. You knew as a mandated reporter, you were legally required to report any suspicion of self harm. But you didn’t. And you felt as if you were betraying your very existence to cater to the psychotic needs of the man who you knew had a few screws missing for your own selfish desires. He never spoke much. Just sat there, looming over your small frame, causing your breathing to heave and your hands to tremor. He made you tense. You made him tense. The palpable tension between you just a ticking time bomb, ready to impale any passersby with the sharp shrapnel of his infatuation with you.

It seemed that every time he came to you, his wounds got worse. But they started small. Harmless. A gash in his porcelain flesh, just a few gauzes needed to stop the bleeding in order for it to heal itself. And as many times as you lied to yourself, thinking: maybe it was from training. Maybe he’d lost control of his knife, accidentally cutting himself or mishandling it. And deep down, you knew it wasn’t. You knew he had been purposely hurting himself. Just to see you. To you, it was charming. Fascinating. And it shouldn’t have been. Every cell in your body screamed for it not to get to you. But you saw his harming himself a certain kind of devotion to you. A showing of his ultimate loyalty to you, even though you hadn’t spoken more than ten words to each other outside of medical talk.

He’d been acting this way for months now. Too afraid to approach you with his feelings directly, but not afraid to leave you with constant, subtle reminders of his existence. The smell of him left on the sheet of the hospital bed. The boot scuffs on the floor, yet to be mopped up by housekeeping. The idea of him hurting himself just to come sit on the hard, too-small bed just to see you, conjured a feeling in you that made you nauseous. His behavior was sickening. It truly was. And you knew, with every visit how his wounds got worse, bloodier, deeper…it was only a matter of time.

He sat on the bed, staring down at you through his sniper hood with his arms limp at his sides as you worked on them. His gaze burned a hole through your head, searing any incoming distracting thoughts with thoughts of him. What he must have looked like under that mask. What his skin felt like. What kind of sounds he would make when he fucked. How dangerously big his cock was. And no matter how hard you fought those thoughts with every fiber of your being, the wetness between your legs was a telltale sign. He had you. He needed you. And like a moth to a lamp, you found yourself secretly chasing that high that plagued your senses every time he was near.

Your mind was hyper aware of his every move, every breath. The tension in the room constricts you, making you feel as if the air thickened with his very presence. Your skin burned with every graze of his, the hairs on your arms standing to attention. Before you even made it into the room, you knew he was there. Waiting. Stalking your every step until you made it into the room with him. And before you entered, the fuzz on your neck stood erect. Your gut sensing danger, a predator with nothing but sexually malicious intent awaiting your arrival.

This was your last straw. There had to be a way for this to end. For the never ending silent fight, the vicious cycle of wanting him, hating him, being disgusted by him, being turned on by his very stance. You were almost done stitching him, your gloves bathed in his dark, thick blood. He never so much as winced as you secured the sutures, dabbing the wound with disinfectant. You rolled back in your chair, tossing your gloves onto the rolling metal tray beside you. And as always, he hopped off the bed, looming over you with a steady foot and a half above you as you briefed him on how to clean his wound. But before he could hastily make his way back to his quarters to do God knows what, you absentmindedly grabbed his bicep. He tensed under your touch, never turning to meet your face. Your throat dries painfully as you try to speak, your delicate hands and freshly done nails begging to dig themselves into his scarred skin as he fucked you in a frenzy of predatory sexual hunger.

“König.” You manage to release. Your voice was practically a squeak, making you feel smaller under him than you already were. As if you needed to feed into his nauseating predatorial instinct even more. You cleared your throat, approaching him. With every step you took, his presence sucked away each and every atom of oxygen from you. A pitiless, dangerous black hole that threatened to drain the life from you with its bare hands.

“What are you doing to yourself?” You ask, your voice breaking and cracking. You hated showing him that you were weak. That you were ready to be pounced at, mercilessly eviscerated. And in all honesty, you liked that you were. It was shameful. The way he stood, unspeaking and nauseatingly smug at your worry made you want to drop to your knees and get yourself off on his boots while he watched you shamefully. You wanted him to humiliate you. To degrade every ounce of dignity in you and then more.

“I know this isn’t from training, sir.” You say, running your thumb gently over his fresh sutures. You swallowed the lump in your throat, your mouth and tongue suddenly dry and coarse. You pressed into the matter further, just wanting to beat at his chest until he spoke. Hating him for forcing you to care about him. You were done with this game. The cat and mouse facade that masked the filthy desires swirling between the two of you. He turned to face you slowly, craning your neck to look at his eyes. The egoistic smile in his eyes, the one he made no effort to hide behind his mask.

“Little maus…” Although his voice was gentle, it still boomed through your eardrums. His German accent wet and thick on his tongue. You keep your grip on his arm, as if the feeling of your skin against his would keep your feet on the ground. “Can’t you see? I do it for you.” He lets out a sigh, reaching a hand up to graze your cheek. “I bleed for you, schatz.” He stepped closer to you, speaking as if it were completely obvious that he sliced himself, made himself gush impossible amounts, just for you. And a part of you always knew. You were always aware, always aware how it turned you on that such a man would do such things for a woman like you.

He looked down at his arm, your grip tightening and fingertips pressing into his stitches. He lets out a sharp breath, his eyes fluttering closed as you absentmindedly dug your fingers into his gash. You stared at him, dumbfounded. You feel warmth pool under your fingertips, glancing down at his now bleeding flesh.

“Fuck! I-I’m so sorry. Let me get some-”

“Harder.” He reaches forward hastily, grabbing your arm and stopping you in your tracks. Your lips hang agape, your face growing hot and your breathing growing heavier. He pulls at your arm, bringing you towards him. The room suddenly felt much smaller, threatening to crush you in its walls. The concept of what he wanted you to do made you woozy, your stomach queasy with disgust. But a deep part of you was fascinated by it, a sleeping beauty kissed awake by the nauseatingly beautiful devotion he showed to you. To want to please you. To show you how ready he was to drop dead. Just for you. Even if it were by the woman he loved most.

You stare between his eyes, noticing how his gaze grew softer as you pressed your fingers into his bleeding flesh. He cried out, a disgusting mixture of pain and pleasure lacing his moans. You stepped closer to him, ignoring the feeling of his hot blood trickling down your wrist. You move your thumb around his stitches as you approach his chest, slowly running your hands up his muscles. You stopped below the hem of his mask, twirling it in your fingers. His hand shot up to your wrist, squeezing it with a force you could only describe as starved. Without words, he moves your hand to his stomach. You feel the muscles under his shirt flex as he guides your hand down his abdomen. You don’t think before you do it, but nothing in that moment could’ve stopped you from giving him exactly what he needed. He bled for you. Sliced himself wide open for you. He showed his devotion for you the only way he knew how. By shedding his own blood. Just for you.

You work on his belt buckle, the warm blood weeping from his arm now trickling down to your elbow. As you got his pants open, you noticed it. He was already hard. Practically throbbing for your touch. His breathing grew strained, his head dipping down. You felt a smile twitch on your lips. The world around you seemed to be gone, and it was only you and him in this distasteful moment. You, him, his twitching cock and his bleeding arm. As you took the tip of him into your hand, the warmth of his blood grew hotter as you pressed your thumb deeper into the gash. You stroke him, while simultaneously pushing your thumb forward, eliciting the pained and pleasured moans from the gigantic man before you.

You see him look down, your small hands seeming smaller in comparison to the length and thickness of his dick. He reaches an ungloved hand towards yours, wrapping his large hand over yours. He guides your strokes, the combined warmth of his length and blood traveling through your body and settling in your core. He continued using your hand to jerk himself as his body twitched and slumped, knees bending slightly. You smile, no longer trying to fight the disgusting feelings that plagued your mind. You liked it. You shouldn’t have. But you did. The nausea that rose from your stomach only fueled you more, squeezing his cock harder as he continued stroking himself with your hand.

“Harder, my love. Bitte, ich mache alles. Mach es härter.” (Please, I’ll do anything. Do it harder.) He breathed, his body jerking with painful bliss. You do as he asked, pressing your thumb into his weeping flesh harder. You weren’t concerned how much he was bleeding now, only getting him to come. This was an irreversible, irresponsible decision. You crossed a line with him, and a deep part of you knew. You fought the looming dread that threatened to ruin the moment. You belonged to him, and he belonged to you. And in some twisted, cruel way, you didn’t mind. It was dangerous. It was far beyond recovery. There was no way in hell he was letting you go without dying first. And your newfound sick, twisted desires catered to his very agenda.

“F-fuck…I’m gonna…” His hand painfully squeezed yours, your fingers incapable of moving under his grip. You felt his cock twitch as you continued digging your thumb into his wound, the warmth of his blood bathing one hand, while the heat of his hot cum wetly coated the other. He lets out a string of moans and whines, his grip weakening over your hand. He breathes heavily into the air, your thumb releasing from his flesh. You let go of his cock, both your hands coated in the liquids that came from his soul. In some gruesome, macabre way, you enjoyed it. Loved it, even. The newfound feelings swirled through your mind and made your lips curl into absentminded grin.

The sound of his belt buckle seemed to bring you back down to earth, causing you to rush to the sink and throw the faucet on. You washed your hands, looking down at your arm, now coated in blood. All of your feelings hit you all at once, feeling a strong nausea bubble in your stomach. Before you knew it, you were heaving into the sink, your knees wobbly and threatening to give out under you. You didn’t know why you threw up. You’d seen all kinds of gore, been covered in blood countless times. But this was something else. Something damaging. The looming dread growing darker over your head. You hear König shuffle, approaching you from behind. You feel his large hand caress your back, a soft gesture that did nothing to comfort you from the cold, dark things you’d just done.

“I’m afraid I’ll need some new stitches, dear.” He says, a smile evident in his voice. You nodded your head, feeling airy as you stood up from the sink. You didn’t know what you would do now, the clarity hitting you like a truck. There was no escaping this. No escaping him. You sat him down again, resuturing his wound.

“This cannot happen again, König.” You say sternly, hastily finishing his stitches and cleaning his arm with disinfectant. You stand from your chair, hands on your hips as you pace the room. He stood from the bed, walking over to you. Before you could squeak another word out, his hands were cupping both of your cheeks, your neck craning up to meet his gaze.

“It can…and it will, schatz.” He says, a soft tremor in his voice. And in an effort to combat your fears of him, he swiftly throws the mask off of his head, hishelmet clattering to the floor. You look at him, lips parted. His strong jaw was lined with a dirty blonde stubble, his lips perfectly shaped balanced with the rest of his face. His nose sat crookedly between his eyes, permanently misshapen from breaking it so many times. His eyes, strong and grey, bored into your soul as if he was looking into every possible detail there was to know about you. He dipped his head down, pulling your face towards his as he crashed his lips into yours. You moan into the kiss, his hands keeping your head still as he forces you to keep your lips stuck to his.

He parts from the kiss, looking between your eyes with a deceivingly soft gaze. He leaves you in a stupor as he bends to pick his mask up off the floor, slipping his helmet on over his head. You stand dumbfounded, tears welling in your eyes as you scramble to handle your newfound feelings.

“I bled for you, dear. You are mine now.”

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