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addicted-to-dc · 16 hours

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Simon “I Will Never Be A Father” Riley, and how he ended up with a football team worth of kids.

CW: Like 2k words of fluffy Simon, and then 1k words of filth, massive breeding kink, creampie, disgusting sext talk mess. Enjoy! 🩷

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It's not his fault, it's yours.

He met you really early in both of your careers, before either of you had really any important ranks, nor years of experience.

But a mission together to recollect some intel was enough for the two of you to learn each other's names.

It was back when rage still blinded more of Simon's senses, the loss of her family still recent. But you didn't know, obviously, and he wouldn't tell you.

During that mission, he would constantly snap at you, unnecessary remarks and barks at you whenever you would ask something.

Not that you would back down because of the overgrown chihuahua, usually just shouting back and ignoring him. Letting him to simmer in his guilty feelings.

But the time together helped to learn what buttons to press and when to act as if you hadn’t seen something, and by the time you made it back to base, to your different units; you said goodbye shaking hands and saying: “Nice to meet you, Riley. Don't die.”

He didn't say it back, but he felt it more.

Years went by before he saw you again, and after a while, he simply assumed you did in fact, die.

He was higher in his career, already being respected by most and always addressed as Ghost. The rage of his past was already on a secondary level.

More mature, more knowledgeable, more experienced.

But for some reason, he couldn't forget you. He had come across so many different people who would back down just for him looking at them, yet when he screamed at you, you didn't let him win.

He missed you.

He would never admit it, but he missed the girl he met on that mission those years back. Maybe if he had said it back you would be alive.

Maybe.

“Riley?!” An unmistakable voice asks, radiant with happiness from his back.

He turns around, eyes wide open looking for the source, for the girl he met so long ago, for the girl he thought had died.

But he sees you.

The woman, on the same rank as his, grown, more mature, more knowledgeable and more experienced.

Scars and wounds adorning your body just like his.

“What is that mask, Riley?” You ask, smiling widely. “You turned emo?!”

You laugh loudly as you finally walk up to him, an awkward position of not knowing how to say hi after so long apart.

“Aye, didn't want people falling in love with me like you did.” He says, completely baffling but still hoping it was true.

“Argh.” You say, rolling your eyes as you slap his arm. “Well, excuse me, lover boy. Didn't know you have spent all this time fighting the ladies.”

There hasn't been any ladies. Not after you. He realises it in that moment.

“It's the uniform.” He explains, a stupid smug smirk under the mask. “And you? What have you been up to?”

“The usual, learned German, I knit now, killed a couple of hundred terrorists, and got my flying licence!” You enunciate, slightly jumping with the last.

He doesnt realizes that the mask is not covering his eyes, and that no matter how cold and stoic he tries to act; you can see clearly as day the affection and happiness from seeing you again.

This time, when you say goodbye, you keep each other numbers. A way to stay in contact, to check once a month if you are still alive.

But again, time goes by before meeting in person again.

And when it happens, Ghost is already on the 141; and it's not him the one that sees you first.

“We are having a surprise guest on the next operation.” Price says one morning while they are having breakfast. “She’s from another base, but has an amazing resume. She's a lieutenant too. And with an ugly character, like you” He says, pointing at Ghost.

And he knows it's you.

It gotta be.

And a couple of days later, when you enter the mess hall; walking behind him and slapping the back of his head, he is elated.

“I knew I was smelling trash.” You say, looking down on him. Barely a bit taller than him when he is seated.

He turns his body, resting his arm around your hips. “How long are going to be following me for, ya rat?”

“Hmm, not my fault you can't do your fucking job, useless bitch.” You say with a smile on your face as you rest your arm over his shoulders.

“Well, somebody gotta take out the trash, you cunt.” He says, a smug smile on his face.

“Aww, are you telling me to take you out, lover boy?” You say, resting your hand on your chest. That makes him bark a laugh, patting your side after, before saying. “I'm glad to see you are still in one piece, idiot.”

“The feeling is mutual, dickhead.”

And that was the first time that Simon’s hand was resting on your hips, but definitely not the last.

The first mission together with the 141 was an absolute shit show, everything that could have gone wrong… went wrong. And if it wasn't because of your stubbornness, it would have been Simon’s last mission.

Being trapped under debris, unable to get out of the burning building. Everyone was already out, only him inside, talking on the radio to tell the team to leave him behind.

Except you, who managed to slip through Price's orders and run into the obvious death trap. Able to take the debris keeping Simon trapped with his help, both of you using the extra strength that only comes out in emergencies. Unknowingly, both of you going to the extreme of your resistance to make sure the other didn't die inside the building.

And when he was in the hospital bed, days later, and you came to visit him, and you leaned forward and kissed him. It was the first kiss, but not the last one.

The two of you, already adults perfectly functional, able to instruct armies, take down terrorist organisations, and yet… it was not until 8 months after the first kiss that one of you managed to ask the other out.

“The team were going out for drinks tonight, but they bailed… do you want to go still? The two of us?”

To this day, Simon still believes it was his doing that the two of you went alone to the pub, and you still have not had the heart to tell him it was you the one who asked Price, Soap and Gaz to tell him they couldn't go.

And once the door was opened, everything went smoothly and easily. Not bothering to call the relationship in any way, as if the two of you haven't been exclusive to the other from the first moment you met.

Still, even more time went on before something more than kisses went down. Until the two of you went on separate missions, months spent apart from each other, only to reach base again at the same time.

And as if you had planned, you walked to each other room. Meeting exactly in the middle and jumping into each other arms.

Not that anyone else on the team had doubts about what went on between the two of you, but still was a surprising view. And you pulled Simon by his hand inside of his room, every doubt crumb was erased.

And once it started, everything else went in a blur. By the time you took notice, the two of you were already married for a couple of years, the honeymoon phase was still strong, and expecting your first child.

And Simon, who had always promised he would never have kids, now was obsessed with your pregnant self. During the pregnancy, he couldn't keep his hands away from your body.

Constantly feeling you up, every inch of skin, from your hips, to your breast, to your tummy. Completely obsessed and enamoured with your body, changing and adjusting to bear his child. His big-ass child. That had you wabling from the second trimester.

He missed the birth, away on a mission when you were in your seventh month. Promising the mission would last a week, but he didn't take a step into your house until three months later. He didn't look Price at his face for weeks after the due date passed.

The worst part was that there was no communication with you, complete radio silence. Again, like so many years ago; you could be dead and he wouldn't know.

And when the plane landed, he took the quickest shower of his life. Because the worst case scenario was coming home to an empty house, but the worst second was holding his child for the first time with the blood of his enemies still on his hands. He wouldn't taint such an innocent thing.

The door almost fell from the hinges when he entered, eyes looking through the house. Breathing only because he could see light from the bedroom, and then you walked out of the room.

Looking at him with tears on your eyes as you run to him, jumping on his arms and getting crushed by his hug. Muttering apologies as he kissed your head, he still has not forgiven himself for failing you that day.

You shake your head, grabbing his hand and pulling him towards the bedroom. He freezes on his spot, as if he just remembered that he had a child; your abdomen way flatter than when he left.

“C’mon, Si… Do you not want to meet your son?”

A son.

He had a son.

He followed you into the room, unable to say a word as he saw the tiny human sleeping in the middle of the bed.

He walked behind you, waiting for instructions, his brain struggling to work normally. You tell him to sit down, picking the baby to lay him on his arms. The father finally holding his son for the first time.

And when the baby exhaled a satisfied sigh at the warmth pooling from Simon’s body, the first tear rolled down his cheek.

He didn't sleep that night, it didn't matter that he had barely been able to sleep the weeks before, he couldn't pull his eyes away from the baby. So that night, he stayed seated, with the baby on his arms and with you sleeping by his side.

The happiest night of his life.

He finally took his parental leave, almost smashing the phone against the wall when Price called him; even though it was to congratulate him.

And Simon, who always had believed he would never have kids, now had one. And that might have been the first child he had, but it was definitely not the last one.

Because a couple of weeks later, when the two of you went to base; to introduce the baby to his teammates, Simon couldn't stop thinking about how good you looked with his child strapped to your body.

His little head resting over your full breasts, sleeping and perfectly unaware of every problem in the world. But Simon couldn't stop looking at your chest, body changed to bear and care for his child; it was only fair he paid back.

So when Gaz asked if he could hold the baby, it was Simon who helped you take the baby out of the little koala backpack; letting him hold it.

And with a weak excuse, took you to his bedroom. Barely managing to close the door before bending you over his desk, pulling your pants down and stuffing your cunt with his thick fingers. Giving you barely any prep before the strain on his hardening shaft was too much for him to keep it away from your soaked cunt. Groaning in your ear as he thrusts fast and hard into your sweet pussy, rubbing your clit with his fingertip making you cling into the desk.

“Such a good fucking mama you are.” He moans into your ear. “Driving me fucking crazy every time I look at you, so fucking beautiful, so fucking breathtaking, darling.”

Half of what he says doesn't make sense and the other half you can't even hear from over the sounds of the moans.

“Gonna fuck you full of my child again, gonna keep you barefoot and pregnant, mama.” He moans again, kissing your neck from behind as his free hand keeps roaming your body, needing to feel more and more of you. “Looking like a bloody goddess with my child, gonna keep fucking you until it fucking catches, and then again, and again, and again… Do you want that, mama? Do you want it as much as me?”

“Fuck, yes!” You moan back, just as fuck out as him. The unforgiving pace pushing the breath out of your lungs, your legs barely able to hold your weight but it's not like Simon would let you fall.

More and more words and promises keep falling from Simon's mouth, making it hard for your orgasm to take any longer to wash over you.

But then Simon turns you around, laying you on your back and pulling your legs up, your knees beside your head; before he starts to thrust into you again, his happy trail rubbing against your clit.

“Gonna make it catch, gonna fuck you so deep it is not even going to spill. Gonna get you fucking pregnant again, and this time I'm not gonna go away for a fucking second. Gotta give the little shit a sibling, ah?”

The stretch of your legs being pulled so back into your head making it almost uncomfortable if you were able to think at the moment. Your hands grabbing into his forearms to steady yourself.

“The best fucking mama in the world you are, ah? Taking such good care of him.” He groans, engulfing your boob with his enormous hand. “Getting these tits fucking massive just for him, fucking little shit don't know how lucky he is to get such a good fucking moma.”

And you are ashamed to admit it, but the disgusting praises are enough to throw you over the edge; your head falling back against the desk with a loud cry of his name.

“Fucking hell, darling.” He groans just like you. “That's it, choke my fucking cock, love. Milk it dry, suck it in. Fuck! Such a fucking perfect cunt, I would fucking live here. Sucking me in so good, such a greedy fucking cunt. I'm gonna fuck you so deep, I'm gonna give you twins, darling.”

And he doesn't give you time to breathe, his hips slapping hard against yours making you mewl at the overstimulation. Clenching down at the prolonged orgasm.

You hear him groan over your exhausted body. “Fuuuck… Shit, love. Yeah… just like that, take it in, love, take it in. Hold it in, don't let it go to waste love.”

You fill him spill deep inside of you, pulling your legs impossibly higher lifting your butt off the desk, bending you in half with your cunt completely exposed.

“Such a beautiful fucking cunt.” He says before leaning down, kissing your clit as if he was pecking your lips, only for him to literally make out with your cunt. Making you hiss and pull his hair back to make him stop and be able to breathe for a second.

He pulls his head back, only to accumulate the saliva and arousal on his mouth and spit it back over your cunt making you shudder. He lowers your legs, impaling you back on his still hard shaft, pulling the breath from your lungs once more.

“There you go, mama. Stuffed and plugged, so there is no risk.” He says, letting your legs rest down as he moves his hands to each side of your hips, pushing you impossibly closer to him, hitting as deep as he has ever reached. Slightly moving you up and down so your clit rubs against his pelvic bone, making you whine as you clench around him.

“Simon… Si, I need to fucking breathe.” You whine, trying to grab his hand.

“Nah, you got this…” He says without looking at your face, completely hypnotised by the way your folds part to take his cock in. “You are doing amazing, sweetheart.”

Is only hours later, that Simon comes out of his room. Clothes changed, showered and without you (who is currently sleeping on his bed, too exhausted to even stay awake), and he walks up to the mess hall, where he assumed the boys are.

Picking his beloved son from his captain's hands. “There you are, my boy.” He says softly, picking up the baby that looks ridiculously small in his arms. “Time for bed.”

“Oi, LT!” Soap calls him. “So when is his sibling being born?”

He looks at Soap, his expression changing to a stern one. “Don't be disgusting, Johnny. That's my family you are talking about, have some decency”.

Taglist:

@crashtestbunny @going-to-ikea-for-the-fries @waiting-so-long @mothymunson @cod-z

@lyralein @whos-fran @thevoidwriting @sklt987659 @dumb12bvtch1212

@thatonepupkai @darkangel4121 @spadekip @herefor-tojis-tits @soupinasock

@arbesa-mind @cmbghost @multifandomheathenannie @tooloudarts @panikk-attackkk

@reap3erslov3 @mothsdrabbles @ghosts-hoe @cassiecasluciluce @sleepdeprivedkat

@lunamoonbby @hatterripper31 @contractedcriteria @vxnilla-hxrddrugs @fraserbraw

@rosiehale23 @keiva1000 @sw33tsnow @loveandplanet @sobbingnshtting

@dprmoon @simpsallthetime1997 @ladyxtiger @soapsmohawk-16 @nina6708

@katreintjie @sacvh @archenillo @thesinsoflust @sodavrr

@yuki2129 @mikaronn @idk-justkane @shanhalen @thatoneslvt

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addicted-to-dc · 1 day

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all your life, you'd been convinced that the world would end with a bang, like a world war or a meteor hitting earth. you hadn't expected the sudden geomagnetic storms, shutting down all power and throwing the world into a chaotic, frozen future. those with the financial means to run towards the equator did so, leaving the rest of the world to freeze or starve.

when the world went to icy shit, you'd stayed home as long as you could, duct taping the edges of your windows and doors to keep the cold air from leaking in. it was tolerable for a few days, even with the power out. you did what you could, layering clothes and burning your scented candles, creating a makeshift fireplace in your stove as you burnt trash for warmth and held a rag over your nose to keep from breathing in the smoke. all of that, in hindsight, was extremely short-sighted. temporary measures fit for a temporary problem. when it became clear in a few weeks that this was it, that the constant storms meant that the world would never go back to how it was, you started making real plans.

step one was amassing more supplies. most folks in your small town had tried to run south, loading up toboggans and hoping for mercy at the border. the vast majority of houses, businesses, and apartments emptied. it's strange to see the town you love like this- covered in a thick layer of snow and ice, windows boarded up or broken, your favorite mom and pop businesses with signs in the window reading "save yourselves- take what you need" and "goodbye, good luck, and godspeed". you'd pulled your little makeshift sled down main street, loading up on all the canned goods you could carry and stockpiling for as long as you could. you checked inside if houses, restaurants, and the grocery store, grabbing everything of use and pointedly ignoring the frozen, emaciated bodies you ran across. opting to pick through their belongings with heavy guilt settled into your belly like a lead weight.

you can't help but feel a sort of strange gratitude for your thick, wide build. you're fairly certain that the extra insulation of fat around your internal organs has saved you a dozen times over, and you start to feel a sort of kinship with polar bears as you make your weekly treks around town to scavenge for food, kindling, and blankets. it's sort of liberating, being alone out here and not having to worry about whether fellow survivors watch your food intake like a hawk. you're allowed to be fat and happy, free of any guilt or shame about the shape of your body. your focus is less aesthetic and more utility now, and god is it paying off to be fat.

months have gone by, and pretty soon two things are made abundantly clear: you are the only living person left in town, and the scavenging opportunities are are drying up. if you want to keep living, you're going to have to pack up and move to somewhere new. there's another small town, maybe 25 miles or so south that you think might be your best bet, and you get to work packing your belongings onto the sled. everything's put into plastic bags, strapped together with packing tape and rope, with five days worth of food. you layer up all of your clothes, wearing everything you own, your spare boots tied together by the laces and thrown over your shoulder. as you trudge to the edge of town, you can't help but stop and look back. this place you called home has nothing but ice and death for you now, and as much as you wish you could, you cannot stay. you say your goodbye to the place you loved silently as you approach the sign welcoming visitors to your town. knocking the ice and snow off of it, you pull out a spray can and write the words THERE IS NOTHING LEFT over the words 'welcome to dolly's landing'.

the trudge south is slow, but you manage it within a day. you're sweaty and tired, legs sore from constant use and having to trudge over slick ice patches and through deep snow. nothing seems to have fallen off of your sled, thank fuck, and the first house at the edge of town seems suitably abandoned. it doesn't take much to get inside, nobody ever bothers to lock windows out in the sticks anyways. you gracelessly tumble inside and assess the interior. it's small, which makes heating it easier, and the open, bare cabinets tell you that probably no one is coming back here for a supply run. you close the window and your aching legs make one last push as you stumble your way to an overstuffed couch, collapsing on it's luxurious softness as sleep takes you into her arms immediately.

in the morning, a gentle shake to your shoulder wakes you. there's a man towering above you, snow and ice clinging to his thick beard, wearing a very professional looking white camo snowsuit. you can't help but jump and gasp a little at the realization that you've been caught unawares by a stranger. his grip on your shoulder doesn't relent, hanging onto you as if his life depends on it.

"easy, sweetheart. didn't mean to startle." he says, deep voice practically purring as he looks you up and down with smiling blue eyes. shit, you should've hidden your sled full of supplies, but exhaustion had overridden reason. you could kick yourself for it now. a desperate scan around the room behind him doesn't indicate anyone else is with the two of you.

"i- i didn't mean to intrude, i'll just leave, i don't want any troub-" you stammer, voice creaking from disuse.

"there's no trouble, sweetheart. none at all." the large man cuts you off before swinging a leg over the width of your hips, settling his weight on top of you. oh no. oh no oh fuck oh no. tears spring to your eyes, blurring the face of the man looming above you as you try to wriggle out from under him.

"easy, i said. you're all right, nobody's hurtin' you." the large man coos as he leans down over you, his body weight pinning you down by your hips. "haven't seen a new person in a good long while. where have you been hidin', eh?"

"north. i- there was nothing left up there to eat, i thought i'd try my luck at charlie lake, but i can just go. this is your spot, i won't make trouble, i'll just move on." you croak as he pulls his glove off with his teeth and begins to strokes his fingers along the side of your face.

"nobody's askin' you to do that. prefer if you stayed, truth be told." a small smile creases the corners of his eyes. "let me take you and that little sled of yours over to mine. get you properly warmed up."

it doesn't take a genius to figure out what he's after, not with the way he's talking to you and staring like a hungry predator. frankly, as startled as you are having this strange man sat on top of you, so long as he doesn't get violent or try to steal your supplies, you're not too tremendously upset, just startled. having a hot guy on your hips is more than fine, your only hesitation is the unknown factors about this man. for all you know, he's a cannibal or gets off on stabbing or something. until you get a better feel for who he is, your guard is well and truly up. still, no point in arguing with a man like this, especially when he's got the upper hand. best to placate him for now and think of methods of escape when you're not pinned underneath him.

"ok." you whisper hoarsely through chapped, cracking lips, and the man beams at you. he presses his cold nose against your temple, the coarse hair of his beard scratching your cheek.

"i'm sorry, sweetheart, i know i should be a gentleman and give you some space, but it's been a long bloody time since i've seen a pretty face." he murmurs as he nudges his nose against the shell of your ear. "come with me to mine, yeah? i've got plenty to eat and a proper fireplace, you and me could have a nice time together." he lowers his voice, and his next words make you shiver; "we don't have to be alone anymore, sweetheart."

the offer of food, warmth, and company- especially with the unspoken promise of getting laid- is too good to pass up. after solid months of struggling, rationing, and fighting to stay alive, it's hard to be too averse to the idea of no longer having to fight in exchange for being this large man's plaything. besides, you've been so goddamned lonely with no one to talk to. you hadn't really realized how badly you needed another person's companionship until this guy made you see how desperate you are to have someone, anyone, keep you company.

"should i bring my supplies?" you ask quietly, and it earns you a pleased hum and a kiss to the apple of your cheek.

"the sled out back? i'll pull it, sweetheart. come on," he says with a grunt as he gets up and off of you, holding his hand out for you to take. "let's get a move on, my compass is spinning like a top, so i imagine another storm is on the way."

his name is john, he tells you on the way into town. he's retired british military, moved to canada a few years back to try to find some peace and quiet in the woods. he hasn't seen anyone alive in the five months since the world froze over, not until he came back to town after an unsuccessful hunt and found your tracks in the snow.

"got excited, seeing signs of life that wasn't deer or a moose. or mine. couldn't help but follow your sled's tracks to the house, could i?" he chuckles. "and then there you were, like sleeping beauty, all bundled up and laid out on that old sofa, lookin' like a fairy tale."

"what are you still doing here? why didn't you leave when the power went out like everyone else?" you ask, changing the topic in a fit of self-consciousness. you're still a little meek in his presence, especially now that you can see the big gun strapped to his back.

"figured i was prepared enough, didn't need to take the risk of travelling on foot on the open road." he shrugs. "besides, initially i thought we were just having a cold snap. canada, you know? thought it'd blow over."

you can't help but laugh at that, fog leaking through the scarves wrapped around your mouth, and even through his snow goggles and thick gaiter over his nose, you can see john beaming at you.

"what about you?" he asks.

"i was planning to go with a group, but, uh. they went ahead without me." you say simply, glossing over the pain of abandonment. it had hurt, to realize too late that your so-called friends had skipped town the second they could without bothering to so much as check in on you. mercifully, john doesn't comment on it, and the two of you walk in silence for a while, with him dragging the sled by the rope firmly in one hand and your lower back under the other. he's always looking over at you every few paces, like he keeps needing to double check that you're real. it's funny, there's nothing really to look at. you're covered head to toe, nothing exposed to the bitter cold. you're just a round blob of polyester with a puffball toque on.

suddenly you see it, a dark purple, frostbitten corpse in the snow, naked as the day he was born, lying supine in the snow. you stop dead in your tracks, and john follows your line of sight before snorting out a small laugh.

"don't you worry about that poor sod, been gone months now. when i first saw him he smelled of cheap lager, i think he was trying to make snow angels in negative thirty degree weather. come along, sweetheart, not much further now." john urges gently with a pat on your ass.

"did you know him?" you ask as you continue onward, eyes still glued to the lifeless, frost-blackened body.

"only met him a few times. didn't care for him much if i'm honest. austrian transplant, moved here the year after i did and raised a ruckus by falling head over heels for the sheriff's wife, despite her complete disinterest." john shakes his head. "amazed it was the cold that got him and not kate. if it had been my wife he'd been chasing, it wouldn't be the cold that got him."

you don't respond to that, or the following pat to your backside as you continue to trudge down the road. you've got a decision to make, and soon. you're not a stupid person, you know what john wants from you, what he's expecting of you. under normal circumstances, if you'd woken up to a strange man on top of you who insists you go home with him, you'd try to get out of this somehow, to stammer out your apologies and make a break for it. as it is, you've been completely alone for months. you hadn't heard another human voice since the needle on mrs. man-goughs record player went dull. there's been no one to talk to, touch, or even look at in ages, just you and your reflection in the bathroom mirror. john is a little intense, but you can't help but feel the same sort of clawing desperation to not be left alone again. as you continue to plod down the road, you come to a decision: you'll stick with john until he does something that makes you not want to stick with him anymore. simple as that. something inside of you needs his companionship as much as he needs yours, and, frankly, the idea of getting laid again really does appeal. lately you've been too exhausted and cold to try to take care of those particular needs, and the idea of being warm, fed, and well-fucked really isn't a terrible one.

it's obvious upon arrival which house is john's. it's on the far southern edge of town, the only house with covered windows and a bare roof that's clearly had the snow shoveled off of it. shit, you hadn't even thought to do that, there was just so much more on your mind. clearly john is more than competent enough to survive this, it's not a wonder why he (reasonably) thought he could take his chances in this frozen hellscape.

john leads you to the door, the two of you unloading what little possessions you have into his kitchen. he praises you the entire time you unpack, how resourceful you are, how smart you are to put everything in bags, how well prepared you were to make a real go of it in this new town. you tamp down the strange feeling that bubbles up inside of you as he automatically puts your supplies away in his cabinets and drawers. it feels like your independence is being stripped away, like you're already being absorbed into his life completely, losing your individualism as you become his.

"you've got me feeling all sorts of selfish, sweetheart. you would have done well on your own, i think, but i don't want you to be on your own. i want you to be with me, here." he shrugs, not even a little embarrassed by his sudden proclamation as he shelves another tin of peaches.

all you can do is blink at him as a thought strikes you. he must think all this padding is just layers of clothes, huh? you can't help but get a little fidgety at the thought of how mad he's probably going to be once you're able to get down to a comfortable layer and he sees that the width of your hips isn't solely due to layer upon layer of snow pants. will he be afraid that you'll eat more then your share? will he throw you out? will he at least let you gather your things first before he does? he must see your hesitation, the gears turning in your mind, because he cocks his head and gently pulls you into his arms. maybe it's the loneliness, maybe it's how handsome he is, or maybe it's because he looks at you like you're personally responsible for hanging the stars in the sky, but you step into his embrace.

"i know i'm bein' pushy, but i can't help it. it's been a long bloody time since i've seen anyone else, and i'm not keen on being alone again when there's a pretty girl to talk to." john says, gently tugging at the scarves you've wrapped over your face. it's still cold in the house, but probably not negative considering the insulation and the protection from wind, so you allow him to uncover your face, removing your goggles and layered toques.

"there she is. hello." john grins as you shake your greasy hair out. you just huff out a laugh.

"hello, john." you giggle, watching him lick his lips while staring at yours. "you gonna show me around?"

"yes, of course, this way." john tours you through the little two-bedroom, his hand on your lower back the entire time. it's cozy enough, although it doesn't look particularly lived-in. there's no photos anywhere, no art or posters either. a real bachelor pad. when he leads you to the living room, you nearly laugh out loud. there's a king sized mattress on the floor in front of the fireplace, and it's absolutely covered in furs. it looks like the setup of a really cheesy old porno or something.

"wow. that's a lot of pelts." you blurt out, earning you a little squeeze on your hip and a pleased sounding chuckle.

"thank you. hunting's been surprisingly good, but i suppose i'll have to give it a rest for a while and do my best to forage around town for canned goods if i want that to continue." he looks over to you. "that's how you've been getting along, isn't it? scavenging through houses? you'll have to teach me your secrets."

"open every cabinet and drawer. lesson over." you say honestly, and john throws his head back and laughs, fog erupting from his mouth into the cold air of the living room.

"duly noted. now you make yourself comfortable, i'll fetch some firewood so we can make some tea. be right back." john says with another fond pat to your ass, which just makes you roll your eyes and huff out a laugh. john just shrugs and smiles like 'sorry sweetheart, i can't resist' as he strides out into the hallway, the sound of a door opening and closing not far behind.

you settle in on the mattress, running a hand over the furs. shit, he must be a good hunter. he wasn't wrong to try taking his chances out here, he definitely has the skills to do it. between the two of you, you can probably stay here for a good while before you're forced to make another move.

john's back in no time, getting the fire going quickly and and kicking off his boots. his white camouflage snowsuit peels away to expose a broad chest and soft belly in a compression shirt and shorts. you try not to stare at his very obvious erection, but good fucking lord. it almost looks like he's trying to smuggle a white claw in those shorts. when you finally peel your eyes away, john is just smirking at you, his face illuminated by the fire that's coming to life in front of you. he scoots in close, pressing a chaste kiss to your forehead that's so abrupt it almost startles you.

"you've been strugglin' for so long, haven't you? stayin' alive all this time must've been hard work." he presses a kiss to your cheek. "stay with me, and i'll look after you. i'll keep you fed and sheltered, just stay with me and keep my bed warm. sound all right to you?"

"just your bed?" you tease, and he chuckles as he leans in to kiss your lips, hand gently resting on the back of your head. his lips are soft somehow, and all you can think as he deepens the kiss is that you hope he'll share whatever chapstick reserves he's got.

clever hands make light work of the buttons and zippers on your various layers as he licks into your mouth and sucks at your lip, peeling you out of them in almost no time at all. the fire continues to blaze behind you, and for the first time in a long time, you're actually warm enough that you don't mind stripping down to a t-shirt and your panties. when john pulls out of the kiss to get a good look at you, you can feel your heart stop, waiting for a wrinkled nose of disgust or the look of disappointment on his face. you watch him sweep his eyes over you, taking in every soft, round bit of you, before he tilts his head back and looks up to the ceiling.

"this is the best day of my life." john mumbles towards heaven, and you can't help but be dumbfounded. there's no way you heard that right.

"what." it's not a question. you have no idea what the fuck he's talking about.

"i thought i'd never get the chance to play with a big soft girl ever again. thought maybe that sweet round face might just be a fluke, that the rest of it was just layers of clothes. fuck, i've never been so happy to be wrong." john says as he slides his hand over your hip, and around to under the back of your shirt, bringing himself in close again as he fiddles with your bra strap until it comes undone.

"a soft girl like you needs lookin' after, and i'm going to be the man who does it. i'll take such good care of you, sweetheart, i swear it. let me show you." his forehead is pressed to yours, he sounds a little breathless, and you can see in the light that his pupils are blown.

"please, john." you whisper against his lips, less than one full second before he pounces. your teeth click together as he suddenly pushes you onto your back , rucking up your shirt and loose bra until you take the hint and help him pull it off entirely. between the heat of the fireplace and the furs under your bare skin, it's the first time in a long time that having exposed skin hasn't been actively uncomfortable, and thank fucking god. the idea of fucking with snowsuits on really, really does not appeal. you bite your lip as you watch him pull his shirt off, showing off thick, dense chest hair that trails all the way down his soft stomach. he's built like a bear, strong muscles under a good layer of fat for protection. you want to put your mouth on every inch of him.

"knickers off, sweetheart. let me see you." john says as he grabs the sides of your panties and yanks them off. all you can do is raise your hips to help him work them down over your ankles as he tosses them into the dark abyss of the rest of the living room where the firelight doesn't reach. you spread your legs, holding your soft, squishy thighs apart and grimacing at how you must look after months of not shaving. at least your pussy will never catch frostbite. john groans as he crawls between your legs.

"promise i'll pet her and kiss her nice later, i will, i swear it, but i need that pretty pussy wrapped around my cock right. bloody. now." he wastes no time at all pulling himself out of his shorts, giving it a few quick strokes, rolling the foreskin back a bit as he lines up and pushes in. fucking hell, it's been a while since anything but a tampon has been up there, the stretch pulls a moan out of the core of you as he pushes in in in, deeper and deeper until you can feel the thick patch of hair around your pussy meet with the dense hair around his cock. john stares down at you, expression awestruck as he takes in the soft hills and valleys of your shape underneath him in the warm firelight.

"please, john, please-" you start to beg, even though you're not sure what you're specifically begging for. it's overwhelming being stared at by someone so broad-shouldered and handsome. he groans a little as he lowers himself to rest on his forearms, getting as close to you as possible as he kisses and sucks at the tender skin of your throat as he starts to move. fuck, he's not being gentle but that's honestly more than fine. his pace is frenzied and animalistic right out the fucking gate. it doesn't take more than a dozen thrusts or so before he wraps his arms across your back, holding you tightly against his chest as he roughly snaps his hips while pinning you in place, your legs limply bouncing around him in the air.

"good girl, good fuckin' girl, takin' my cock so nice. you feel so good under me, sweetheart. been dreamin' of a softie like you, haven't i? never thought i'd get another shot at one. luckiest man in the world, me." he pants against your cheek, his beard bristling against your skin. all you can do is cant your hips, trying to meet his thrusts, grinding your clit against him as your brain slowly leaks out of your ears. you haven't been fucked stupid in a long time, and the way john's putting his back into it like a desperate animal, it's pretty clear to you that neither of you is going to last long.

never in your life have you felt more like the wild creatures that roam around outside and howl in the dark. your brain has been reduced to it's basest levels, chasing pleasure mindlessly, uncaring of what sounds or expressions you make as you claw at john's back. he, similarly, growls and nips at the curve of your shoulder, panting loudly as the sounds of the fireplace and skin slapping against skin fill the room. there's no reason to be quiet, nobody anywhere near who could possibly object to the noise, so when your eyes roll back and your thighs shake, you don't hold back the scream that pours out of your mouth. it's wild, uncouth, and as sexy as the sound of a barn owl's call. you'd worry about the sound of it would put john off if he didn't instantly double his pace, sitting up and digging his fingers into the plushness of your hips as your tits and belly bounce rhythmically. he's so close, you can tell by the frantic desperation in his pace and the snarl on his lips. he just needs a little push, and you're pretty sure you know exactly what to do.

you wrap your legs around him, trying to hook your feet together around his back as you clench down around his cock. he curses, low and sharp, face buried in your neck, as he goes rigid before collapsing on top of you with a grunt. you can feel the pulse of his cock as he floods your pussy, and you wrap your arms around john's neck and kiss his sweaty temple, petting at his hair.

"best bloody day of my life." john sighs against your skin as he reaches blindly behind himself, grabbing a large shaggy fur and pulling it over the both of you. it isn't long until you hear soft snoring start up, and you can't help but chuckle as you watch the fire continue to burn and try not to think too hard about anything in particular. for once in a good long while you are safe, with someone who isn't willing to abandon you, seems elated that you're a big girl, and has promised to help provide for you. god, pooling resources with him alone is going to make life so much better, not to mention the sex on tap. it's so much more than you ever could have hoped for just a day ago. hell, it's more than you could have hoped for before the world went to shit. damn, this might actually work out okay. you might actually be okay now, safe with john for however long he'll keep you.

best bloody day of your life.

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