#re4 merchant

[clooownnn]

[eurodynamic]

RESIDENT EVIL 4 REMAKE (2023) dev. Capcom

[princessmelinoe]

Resident Evil 4: Separate Ways - Ada Wong & The Merchant

[wolves333]

Do you guys remember this

cr: @NeoCranium

Heh heh

[fanaticartisan]

Let it all out, stranger. You're safe here.

[unlawfulroach]

leon/merchant fans rise up. all ten of us

[thehmn]

Don’t think I didn’t notice the Merchant covers as much skin as possible (especially in the remake) while Duke let it all hang out.

I already drew Duke and Merchant friendShip. Now it’s time for some shippy ship. Apparently I just want to draw ships nobody asked for these days.

[snehwch]

Say the line

[nightmaresyrup]

Over 'ere stranger!

He's fun to listen to after getting mobbed!

[moodymisty]

✦ 𝕿𝖍𝖆𝖓𝖐 𝖄𝖔𝖚 ✦

Author's Note: tehe :3 I'm normal :> I saw that the Merchant wasn't getting much love and I just finished the remake so....

Summary: The mysterious Merchant that's been traveling around has been mighty helpful, why not give him a bit more than just a thank you?

Relationships: The Merchant/Fem!Reader (no she/her pronouns are used, but there's one brief mention of 'cunt' and petnames like 'sweetheart' and 'love' are used)

Warnings: NSFW, Oral (Male receiving), little bit of deepthroating, Is sucking off a man who's name you don't even know deserving of a warning?, Porn without plot, Some praising dirty talk from the Merchant

Word Count: 2224

Ao3 Mirror

"Ahhh, well look who it is,"

You quickly turn your head, seeing a familiar shape bathed in the soft light of the setting sun outside. It's filtering through the cracks in the walls and the windows; Without it, the only light you'd have would be the glow of your torch with it's slowly draining battery. This whole place still unsettles you, but it's nice to finally see someone just a bit less hostile than the usual fare.

"Lookin' for something in particular?"

He tosses one hand outward, his fingers relaxed and curled slightly inward towards his palm. His pack is on the ground for once, surely resting his back. That weight has clearly done some damage to him however, as he still maintains his usual slouch. Though maybe he's just always had that posture. It's not like you've known him long enough to be able to tell.

But all and all, he's the friendliest face you've met by far. So you have not too much worry coming in closer. Part of you wonders if his niceties are only so he can reap a future reward, but for now he hasn't. That part still has you hesitating, even if just a bit.

"I need some ammo. Fresh out." The last villager you had the displeasure of 'meeting' you'd had to fill with almost a whole magazine of bullets, before they finally went down.

That's the thing; You can kill them, but it's more so the matter of if they stay dead.

The Merchant makes an odd little noise sounding somewhat like an affirmative hum, before nodding to you. Slipping a hand inside the main section of his jacket it's moments later that he pulls out a duo of familiar red boxes, and you can hear the bullets clicking against each other inside when he lightly jostles them.

"Here you go; Just for you." You move to give him what little money you've scrambled together as of late, but he waves a hand, your eyes glancing towards the odd, splotchy complexion of his skin exposed by his fingerless gloves.

"Consider it on the house, Love."

He always calls you 'Love'. Or Sweetheart; Lovey. You've told him your name, so it's not as if he has nothing else to call you.

It's not to say you mind, however. It doesn't sound incredibly skeezy like you'd expect, and if anything, it sometimes makes your neck just a bit hot for no good reason.

He's just a bit of a flirt; You'd be a liar if you said you hadn't volleyed something back a few times.

"O-oh, I," You stutter for a moment, before taking the ammo from him and putting it in the pocket of your jacket. "Thanks." When you give him a small smile, he nods back. You can see by the way his eyes squint upwards that he's also grinning quite widely, or at least something similar.

"You've been more of a help than you needed to be." He brushes you off with one motion of his hand. It's nonchalant, before his eyes train right back on you. He rounds his little table to the side, leaning on it just a bit at the hip. It puts him even closer to you, and now you're almost in his personal space.

"Got to keep my regulars happy, right?"

Has he always been this, tall? And wide; He seems to almost shadow you, his shoulders far wider than your own. Maybe it's the thick, bulky material of his coat, though even then that doesn't remove the fact that even slightly slouched, he seems to have a height advantage on you.

Maybe it's because he's even closer now, having taken another step closer. Or maybe you moved closer and just don't remember doing so, hands hanging in the air close to your own chest.

"And I, uh, wanted to thank you."

Your finger hooks the edge of his coat as an absentminded fidgeting motion and the fabric waves, hearing the chimes and rattling of his 'merchandise'. He allows you for a moment, but when it actually moves, he catches your wrist with a gentle grip. His hands are large, and it swallows your wrist easily. He doesn't move your hand away, just simply stops it from moving any further as his eyes stare right into you, even so slightly hooded.

"I hope you aren't thinking of stealin' with those little hands of yours?" He trails off with a chuckle, watching your face morph into surprise at the misreading of your intentions.

"No! No Not at all; I..." He's still chuckling, it fading quieter and deeper, the uncovered tips of his fingers warm on your skin.

"What else would you want in my coat for then, lovey?"

His question seems genuine, but maybe it's his tone of voice, that makes it sound almost perverted.

Or maybe it's just you; Because the first image that comes to your mind is you on your knees. And no matter how hard you try and shake it from your head now, the thought stays. The idea of doing something that completely debauch on a man you literally don't know makes your neck hot, but not as hot as he himself makes you.

He's been quite the flirt, so maybe he wouldn't mind the treat?

You can't help thinking it; That he's, in an odd, partly frightening way, attractive. Maybe it's the lack of appearance; Or the way his voice seems to hit you in your gut with it's deep, gravely tone. When each time he calls you sweetheart or love, looking at you with those eyes.

He's still waiting for your answer; His eyes on your face as you look away.

"Like I said; I just, wanted to thank you." You hope he can't hear the nervousness in your voice, as you hide behind the 'thanking him' excuse. If pressured you'd deny it, but you know deep down you were already looking at him this way before the thought of thanking him ever came into your head.

The edge of his coat you have pinched between the knuckles of your pointer and middle finger, sliding down the thick seam as you slowly but surely fall to your knees. All the while the Merchant watches, silent. He allows his coat to be parted more fully, enough so that you can see inside. He quickly gets the hint, holding his coat back with one hand.

"Ohhh; Well, who am I to stop you if that's what you're lookin' for, sweetheart."

For a moment his sentence boils you enough to consider backing out and re-considering this, but in the end you don't, as your head leans ever so slightly forward. Your lips brush against the seam of his trousers, fabric course and dirty against your skin. Suddenly his hand is a soft weight against the back of your head, looking down at you. You can see the way his eyes flicker over different parts of your face, intently watching.

Any hesitations you had earlier are absolutely out the window now, feeling how fast your heart is racing.

The chuckle he lets out is what someone might call creepy, one that trails off as he watches you fumble with the buttons of his trousers. You might not disagree with calling it that, but there's no denying the deep grumble it trails off into puts a weight in your gut.

It's the way that your fingers stumble and paw at his clothing that makes him chuckle again, though just as he goes to reach a hand down and assist you, you finally manage to get a handle on the confusing clothing.

Slipping a hand inside his trousers you gently wrap a hand around his cock, feeling his heavy heat against your hand as you reveal it. That feeling in and of itself makes him groan, as your hand experimentally drifts up and down his cock for a few motions. That feeling of your lips brushing against his trousers had already started to rile him up, and soon enough, he's almost completely hard in your hand.

Once you're done experimenting, or maybe preparing yourself, you move your head closer, until your mouth his hovering just millimeters away from him. You can feel the stuffy heat against your skin, and the weight of his eyes watching down on you. They're hooded, lazily looking down at you like he's already having a grand time, even if you've barely started.

His cock is hot against your lips when they finally meet, even twitching as you move to wrap your mouth over the tip. Slowly you take him into your mouth, more and more as you attempt to fit as much as you can.

He's big, the tip of his cock bulges your cheek as you groan, mouth almost completely full. And you're not even to the base, your nose just barely brushes against the unbuttoned fabric of his trousers. He lets out a loud moan, echoing against the halls of the dreary, broken down building you're in. You pull your head back before trying again, attempting to familiarize yourself with the feeling while taking as much of him as you can. A tiny bead of spit forms in the corner of your mouth, as you hear him speak through his muffled groans.

"Fuck sweetheart, you got'a tight little mouth..."

More like he's too big for it, you think.

Your head bobs on his length quickly coating him in your own spit, taking deep breaths through your nose. The last thing you want to do is gag on him, but you're playing with fire; If he decides to get a little rough it wouldn't take much to send him right down your throat.

"Shit, shit, that's perfect," One of his hands presses against the back of your head, but not enough to stop you from moving. Tongue pressed against the bottom of his cock you have the odd, salty taste of precum in your mouth, hands gripping the fabric of his trousers. He can feel your soft moans just as much as he can hear them, not noticing when you glance up for just a moment.

"Ohhhh, fuck lovey," His voice almost shakes; That rough, gravely, nearly tipsy sounding tone grinding against his words. His gloved hand slides against your hair, fingers firm but gentle against the back of your head.

"You're real good at this, ain't ya?"

You're not the best judge of your own skill, but at least he seems to be enjoying it, bad posture exasperated even more so as he leans over you. His other hand presses against the top of the table he has laid out- the one he can fold away when he decides to move on to the next location he chooses- It creaking under the sudden increase in weight. It's meant to hold ammo, handguns and the occasional rifle, not support his bodyweight like this. Not that he cares, letting out a soft sigh and mumbling to himself:

"What'a treat..."

His hips thrust forward, meeting your mouth in the middle as he can no longer stay idle. His boot grinds against crumbled stone and dirt as he takes one tiny step closer, groaning through his gritted teeth behind the mask.

"Ohh, I'm real close lovey, you better..." He trails off, but you get the jist of it more than enough. Hand wrapped around the base of his cock that your mouth just can't get to without tickling the back of your throat, your lips wrap tight around the head of his cock as he twitches in your mouth. When his hand tightens on the back of your head not moments later is he finishing in your mouth, him letting out a muffled, deep groan. It's gravely and hits you right in your cunt, but you can deal with that later.

You swallow, the odd taste in your mouth lingering as he groans. You can feel the way that he's slowly softening in your mouth, and when you pull away, his cock falls from your mouth with a wet pop. Your hands fix his trousers; As if none of this had even happened. When you look up at him, he's watching every little move you make.

"Ain't you just a lovely thing,"

His hand drifts from your hair around to your face, thumb brushing against the corner of your mouth and wicking up a droplet of spit mixed with his own cum. His finger slides over your lips and presses, and your mouth opens under his soft pressure. It just barely brushes against your teeth, only for a moment. When he removes his thumb from the wetline of your bottom lip your mouth closes again. His touch is surprisingly gentle, you notice. His hand rests cupping the side of your jaw, head tilting into it.

Your knees hurt; They've been grinding against the hard floor, tiny pieces of rubble and dirt poking upward through your clothes. When you stand back upright, they yell in pain from being in such an uncomfortable pose for so long.

"Not used to gettin' thank yous, let alone ones like that." His thumb brushes over your lips again, his chest almost brushing against your own.

"Now, are you going on your way, or are you gonna stick around for a while longer?"

[thedragonhermit]

More RE4 Remake brainrot, along with me refining my design for Leon! As someone who had blond hair that gradually turned brown, I like to think that’s what’s going on with Leon’s inconsistent hair colour 

Bonus furry designs:

I considered making Ashley something else, but the idea of President Graham also being a mouse was too good to pass up akjsdhfjk

[heroicgartist]

Affectionately LOVE men that have bad posture, sleazy looking mannerisms/intentions, and something a little wrong with them that they always ignore <3 <3 <3

[cadouisms]

customer service

i played re4 remake for 4 hours and decided i wanted the merchant carnally

the merchant/afab!reader, 18+  also on ao3

“You look like you’ve been through the ringer, stranger.”

At the sudden voice, you jerk. In the shadows of the building you ducked into, a robed man leans against a wall, surrounded by boxes and various bits of shelving. He looks huge. You defensively raise your bloodstained hatchet in front of you, adrenaline still hot and heavy in your veins.

The man shows his palms, placating. “Easy there. I’m not interested in fightin’.”

“What do you want?” Unsurprisingly, your voice comes out shaken, hoarse. You’ve been screaming all day.

“Way I see it, you stepped into my shop.”

“Your sh…” You lower your arms, inch by inch, as you properly assess your surroundings. A brazier burns in the corner, blazing a curious purple. Alongside the boxes, there’s a table covered in bits and bobs — ammo, you think, and some paper. As your eyes adjust to the dim lighting, you realize he’s not as big as you thought; on his back is an oversized bag, and he appears to strain under its weight. A merchant, you think. “What do you sell?”

The man laughs. It’s a gravelly staccato, a quite literal heh heh heh, that unnerves you. “What’re ya buyin’?”

Your pockets are bare. The only belongings you have are the clothes on your back and the hatchet in your hand. Even if you had any money, you doubted it’d be enough to afford even a single hot meal. You shake your head. “No budget for anything.”

“No?” He nods toward your hand. “Seems like you could use an upgrade, mate.”

He’s right. The blade is chipped and cracked in several places and is in dire need of a sharpening, if not a full replacement. You’re afraid it won’t last you much longer. “Please don’t misunderstand,” you say, voice cracking with overuse, “but I literally can’t afford one. I can’t pay.”

“Consider this a one-time offer, then.” The Merchant stands fully and, to your surprise, opens up his jacket. All sorts of knives, guns, ammo, and even tools hang from the inside. He pulls a small handgun from its sheath and spins it in his hand, holding the handle out to you. “She ain’t the most powerful out there, but she’ll get the job done better than that weapon of yours. On the house.”

Even underneath the hood, only his eyes and the bridge of his nose remain uncovered. A purple handkerchief obscures the rest of his features, mystifying him further. There’s no way to discern his intentions.

Fear him, says the rational part of your brain, the part that has kept you alive for the past day. You shouldn’t trust him. You should run and find somewhere else to camp out, take your chances with your shitty hatchet.

…But the lights flickering against the walls are oddly serene, and despite all his peculiarities, the Merchant seems the sanest person you’ve met. Not to mention the fact that you are in no position to refuse a free gun.

Your hatchet slides limply from your hand and clatters to the stone floor as you step closer. The metal of the pistol is cool and smooth in your hand, its weight neither too unwieldy or too light. You slide the magazine out — full — and reload. You double check that the trigger safety is on.

You’d need to find more bullets at some point, but that’s a problem for future you. As it is, you want to find a space to breathe and relax. Even after the horror of a day you’ve had, your heart still thuds rapidly in your chest, energy coiled so tight it’s a wonder you don’t explode. Your body wants to run far from the danger that lurks beyond these four walls, but you know you risk collapsing if you don’t rest.

“Well?” prods the Merchant.

His voice makes you startle. You come back to yourself all at once, and it hits you just

how close the two of you stand. He’s only a little taller than you, maybe more, but he’s much broader by far. Whether naturally or conflated with his oversized robe, you don’t know, but it makes your pulse quicken.

Fear him, your mind repeats. Run — but you’re rooted to the spot. You wet your lips.

All this adrenaline and no where for it to go.

The Merchant tilts his head. The sides of his hood give way enough that you can see his gaze as he looks you over. “Not satisfied yet, are you?”

You haven’t said thanks, you realize. “N-no, I—”

“How’s another special sound? Two for the price of one.” Slowly, deliberately, he begins to back you against the wall. His footfalls thud heavily against the floor.

You allow yourself to be trapped, sandwiched between him and the wall. Arousal throbs low between your thighs.

“We aim for customer satisfaction, sweetheart,” he murmurs, his voice dripping with sleazy promise. “Say the word, ‘n’ I’ll sort you out.”

“Please,” you breathe.

You expect him to be rough, or demanding, or treat you any other callous way. Instead, he finds your wrists and drags them above your head. He moves with intentional slowness to give you time to change your mind or flee. When you don’t do either of those things, he pins your wrists together with one hand (massive, how did you not notice earlier—) and dips his head close. “Watch that trigger finger,” he says. “Wouldn’t want any accidents, now.”

You grasp your new gun by the hilt, four fingers and thumb wrapped around it, as his free hand wastes no time in finding the zipper of your pants. No teasing, no foreplay— he slips under the waistband of your underwear and rubs a fingertip against your clit. The simple touch is enough to make you jolt.

“Didn’t realize you were this sensitive,” he says, amusement tinting his tone.

“Me neither.” You bite back a moan as he wets his fingertips with your own arousal, the newfound lubrication easing the slide as he draws circles around your clit. “S’been a long time.”

The simple fact that a stranger has his hands down your pants makes your head spin. This isn’t something you ever thought you’d do — but then again, that was before the parasites, before the weird cult. This is tame in comparison to the things you’ve had to do.

Then the Merchant slides two fingers into your hole, and your thoughts scatter. You’re wet enough that the abrupt intrusion doesn’t hurt, but you feel the stretch as you accommodate him. The fabric of his glove adds an interesting texture as he slowly pushes his fingers in and out of you. In another life, you’d be worried about the cleanliness of such an action.

Here, you can’t do anything but clench around him, mouth dropping open as you moan freely. “Feels good,” you pant. Then, “More.”

“More?” he parrots. “Greedy, aren’t we?”

Debauched, you think. Depraved. Sinful. You just nod.

“Gonna need more room for that.” He tugs your bottoms down further, enough so they bunch around your knees. The air cools your superheated skin. Your thighs spread wider. “There we go,” he all but coos, voice both condescending and not. He adds a third finger, stretching you much more than you’re used to, and your head falls back against the wall.

That coiled bundle of energy burns hotter within you, and you find yourself barrelling to the fastest orgasm of your life. “Please.” You twist in his grasp, bucking your hips onto his fingers. “Please, I’m so close.”

“Aye, I’ll get you there.” The fabric of his glove catches your clit with every thrust of his fingers, pleasure-pain sparking each time. “That good, eh?”

“Yes!” His fingers have you deliciously filled in a way your own never do. He smells distinctly masculine, like gunpowder and wood and smoke, and it just does something to your little monkey brain, enhances the pleasure. Hell, he could be anyone underneath his mask, and yet instead of fantasizing all you can concentrate on is the feeling in your cunt as he fingers you. “‘M’ gonna come,” you breathe. You squeeze around him as your pleasure climbs, stuttering his rhythm. “Please, oh fuck—”

Your back arches off the wall. In your ecstacy, the gun slips from your hand and falls to the floor. The Merchant laughs but you pay him no mind, moving to clutch desperately at the fabric of his robe as you ride the waves of your orgasm. His other hand, now free, plants itself firmly on the wall beside your head. You fuck yourself on his fingers until there’s nothing left in you, until you finally slump, breathless and boneless, against the wall.

The Merchant pulls away. You fix your clothing, pleasantly limp and fatigued. “I…thank you,” you say. “For the gun, and…”

Under his hood, his eyes glint. His hand disappears under the fabric that covers his face. You don’t have to see to understand what the wet popping noises mean. “Feel free to come back any time, stranger.”

Face heated and legs weak, you can only nod.

[disdew]

"Priorities"

For some reason, I always find it absolutely hilarious that Leon is able to install gemstones into antique jewelry — anytime, anywhere, on the run, without any special equipment whatsoever. Gems just magically snap into place, that's it.

Videogames logic, I get it — but this particular aspect is so funny to me that I wanted to draw a "realistic" scene where the man takes his time during the dangerous secret rescue operation, successfully installing jewels without any previous training, outside, with a half broken tactical knife, IN THE DARK, IN THE RAIN.

P.S. Apparently, I've spent 43 hours and 30 minutes to draw a shitpost. I need to rethink my life decisions.

[fanaticartisan]

New customer!

[lipglossanon]

Anarchy Road

The Merchant x Fem!Reader (third part; one shot)

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, dirty talk, oral (f receiving), light pussy slapping, unprotected sex, creampie, light praise kink

random inspiration 🤷‍♀️ not proofread ✍️

title from Anarchy Road by Carpenter Brut

~previous~

You’re not sure how you made it here, but somehow the castle seems to be even more fucked up than the village. Entering another room, you walk around taking stock of it all. According to your map, in order to progress you’ll need to get past a wall. It seems to be locked by some strange mechanism involving the statue at the end. It’s missing the heads of the chimera which you can only presume opens the wall etched with the same chimera relief. 

Wandering back down the stairs, you open up one of the doors and stumble upon the Merchant once more. 

“‘ello, love,” his rough voice makes you smile, shoulders dropping some tension as you shut the door. 

“Hi,” you murmur, “fancy meeting you here, hmm?”

He chuckles and you feel warmth bubbling under your skin.

“Can’t complain,” he winks at you, “what can I do you for, stranga?”

“You can do me.”

The words are out of your mouth before you even blink. Embarrassment burns hot behind your eyes as the Merchant laughs low in his chest. 

“Straight to the point. I like that,” he moves from around the little wooden table to crowd you against the settee in front of the fireplace. 

Arousal pools low in your stomach as his rough hands grip your hips and manhandles you down onto the loveseat. He kneels in between your legs and helps you take off your shoes. 

“Been imagining this since the first time,” his eyes flash up at you as he quickly works your pants and panties down and off your legs.

He groans as he presses your thighs apart and sees your glistening pussy.

“Bet you’re gonna taste like ambrosia,” he mutters, tugging his hood back, “close your eyes, love, lay back and enjoy it”

Pouting, you tangle your fingers in his dark hair, “Wanna watch.”

He winks, “Maybe later. Now close’em or I won’t eat your pretty little pussy.”

With a whine, your head falls against the back of the couch, eyes slipping shut as you hear the rustle of him removing his mask. Another groan from him and then you feel a hot tongue lick a broad stripe up your slit. 

“Oh fuck,” you gasp, fingers tightening in his dark strands. 

“That’s it,” he practically growls, “so fucking wet.”

You feel stubble scrape against your pussy lips and you widen your thighs even more. His tongue slips inside your drooling cunt and flutters in and out of your hole. With a groan that vibrates your pussy, he licks his way up to your clit. He circles the swollen bud over and over, so slow it makes you hump up into his mouth. 

“Patience,” he teases, pulling away to spank your pussy, making you whimper, “and let me taste this soft cunt how I like.”

He slaps your pussy a few more times before kissing all across your thighs. Using his thumb, he pulls the hood of your clit up and kitten licks the swollen bud again and again. 

“Fuck,” you cry out, slick dripping all down your thighs as he teases you, “please, sir, need you to fuck me. ‘m so empty.”

“Aww,” he coos, accent thick, “poor li’l thing, pussy’s just greedy for my cock, isn’t she?”

“Uh huh,” you mewl as he sucks your clit into his mouth and slobbers all over the pudgy bud, “god, please, want you to stretch me out and fill me up.”

“S’that right?” he pulls away with another slap across your soaked pussy, the sting making your eyes water in pleasure, “such a needy girl.”

Ignoring your pleas for more, he buries his face into your cunt, nose grinding against your swollen clit as his tongue licks and fucks into your pussy eagerly. Tugging on his hair, you grind yourself against his face, moaning as his stubble scrapes against your cunt. Imagining the beard burn later has you gushing even more slick onto his tongue. 

He grips your thighs tightly, gloved hands rough as he holds you open even further, spreading your pussy for his lips and tongue. Groaning, he sloppily kisses and licks your slit, running his tongue up and down your pussy before lapping at your sensitive clit. 

“Can’t wait to bury my cock inside your tight cunt,” he croons, pulling away to spit on your clit. 

“Yes, please,” you beg, “please, sir, want it so bad.”

“So soft and wet,” he flutters his tongue inside your hole before sucking your pussy lips into his mouth. 

Spit and slick drips down your cunt to pool onto the floor. It doesn’t take long until you’re bucking your hips and whimpering, climax teetering on the edge. 

“You’re gonna make me cum,” you gasp out, eyes clenched shut as you pull on his hair. 

He pulls completely away from your pussy and you whine, eyes blinking open to catch a glimpse of his face. His eyes are crinkled like he’s smiling when you look down to see his face covered again. 

“Too slow, love.”

Ignoring his cockiness, you reach down and spread your pussy open, “Are you going to finish what you started?”

His eyes flick down to the apex of your thighs and he grunts in acknowledgement. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll give this lovely little cunt the fuck she needs.” 

He removes his pants and pulls his cock out, head peeking from the foreskin as precum drips down his length. 

“Oh, please,” you arch your back, “fuck me.”

“Love to hear you beg,” he swears under his breath and notches the head of his dick against your hot clenching hole. 

“Oh god,” you choke out, pussy stretching almost uncomfortably as he slowly sinks his cock inside. 

“Maybe I shouldn’t take it slow,” he wraps his hands around your waist and pulls you down as he thrusts forward. 

A scream tears from your throat as you feel too much too fast, pussy clamped down on his dick as your clit throbs in arousal. 

“Oh that’s it, love, fucking squeeze me,” he presses you down on to the loveseat, coaxing your legs to wrap around his waist while he slowly slips halfway out. 

“Too big,” you scratch at his shoulders and arms as he bullies his cock back into your pussy, “but feels so good.”

“I know, perfect fucking cunt,” he rasps, masked mouth pressed against your neck as he breathes heavily, “sweet little pussy not only looks pretty, but tastes pretty, and is always so fucking tight for me.” 

You whimper as he starts up a rough tempo, pounding his fat cock in and out of your cunt so fast that slick wet sounds fill the air. He’s fucking you so good that your brain feels like complete mush. Moans going unmuffled, you toss your head back as he ruts in and out of your pussy with quick deep thrusts. Grinding the tip against your cervix makes you clamp down as that pinching pleasure causes more slick to drip around his thick cock. 

“That’s it, love, let me use your fat wet pussy to feel good,” he chuckles, slowing down so each thrust is more powerful. 

He fucks into you so slow and deep, it makes you drool all over yourself, pussy feeling stretched and used—you love it, not able to think past the feeling of him buried in your guts. 

“S’good, sir, it’s so deep,” you slur, soaked hole squeezing and pulsing around his cock as he humps your pussy. 

Nothing but syrupy pleasure drips from your spine all the way through your body as the band of arousal in your stomach winds tighter and tighter. With a low laugh, he shifts his hips and presses his cock upwards to grind his drippy tip against your g-spot constantly.

“Wettest little puss I’ve ever had the pleasure to stretch out on my cock,” he moans down at you, dropping more of his body weight on you and driving his cock deeper into your body. 

You choke out a gasp, hands clawing at his back, totally out of breath from how much deeper his dick is plunging into your pulsing cunt. One of his hands shifts from your waist down towards your pussy, thumb slowly circling your clit now. 

“So slippery, love,” he murmurs, voice low and smoky, “feels like you’re gonna cum for me.”

“Want to, sir,” eyelashes fluttering as he increases the pressure on your swollen bud, “m’pussy feels so good.”

“That’s good,” he soothes, “want you creaming my cock, love, show me how much this hot cunt wants my cum.”

Your back arches at his words, hips swiveling down to tempt him to thrust into you faster. He leans back far enough to drop a hot glob of spit down onto your pussy, rubbing it into your clit with his calloused thumb. 

“Oh god,” you whine out a mewling cry as your pussy clamps down on his dick, walls clenching and fluttering around him as that final act pushes you over the edge. 

“Yes, yes, atta girl,” he praises you warmly, never letting up on rubbing your pudgy bud, “squeezing me so tight with that little pussy.”

Your orgasm only seems to heighten as he continues to fuck into your squelching cunt, balls smacking against your ass while the fat tip knocks into your cervix until your eyes roll back. 

“Give me one more, I know you can do it,” he coaxes, “let me feel that pretty pussy flutter on my cock.”

You know your babbling gibberish at him, but can’t do much more than clench and grind against him, hips bucking into his powerful thrusts as he rails you into the loveseat. With your second orgasm, it feels like an explosion goes off in your body, pussy contracting violently around his cock as your muscles lock up. You can hear him say something to you, but your bloods rushing through your brain and you can’t make out the words. 

With a few more harsh thrusts, he groans and buries his cock balls deep into your pussy, hot sticky cum spilling from his throbbing tip, painting your walls white. Your pussy flutters and clenches around his dick as he stuffs your hole with rope after rope of his thick cum. He grinds himself against your cervix as he finishes inside your fluttering cunt before slowly pulling out, a creamy mix of cum and slick oozing from your pussy. 

He slowly sits back on his haunches. His fingers spread open your used cunt to watch as his cum leaks out of your clenching pussy.

“Now stranga, that’s a sight to see,” he chuckles appreciatively. 

You blearily look down and see his cock thickening again as he fingers his cum back into your sore cunt.

“Might I interest you in another round?” He lightly smacks his chubbed cock against your messy pussy, “make it worth your while.”

Whimpering, you nod before gasping as he ruts his cock across your slit to bump against your clit, smearing cum and slick against your skin. 

“Good girl.”