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sprout-fics · 14 days

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Mayday Mayday Chapter Three: Bravo in the Green

(Simon "Ghost" Riley x F!Medic "Fix" Reader)

Part Six of Snowblind

Rating: Mature Themes Wordcount: 3.6k Tags: Slow Burn, Whump, Blood and Injury, Active Combat Scenarios, Teammates to ??? to Lovers, Angst, Banter, Flirting, Heavy sexual tension, Mutual pining, The mask comes off Warnings: Descriptions of blood and injury

Wanderers of the desert, you push onwards.

Your team is not pursued, and for that you count a needed mercy against the litany of misfortunes that has beleaguered your team within the past hours. A column of acrid smoke burns up into the stars behind you, the wreckage of the exploded chopper smoldering. With it lay the fallen forms of your would-be pursuers, their comrades limping back into the hills from which they came. Your team hikes further away from the site of the crash, collecting broken forms of your injured brothers between them. You strain under the weight of exhaustion, of your gear, of the shoulder of the injured man beside you as he stumbles up towards the shelter you all seek.

The village is absent of life- and seems to have been for some time. The wind howls between the small collection of buildings, what looks like was once a farm or homestead. Now it is abandoned, the doors creaking as they swing wide in the breeze, desert weeds growing wild against the fences. You can see evidence of lives that once were, interrupted by some great cataclysm. Dishware sits on the rugs, tattered laundry hangs from lines, evidence of some sudden departure you do not know the mystery to.

The team takes shelter in a house up the hill. The marine sergeant takes one of his corporals up to the roof to set up a sniper position. With them goes the comms specialist, and you hear the radio gargling with static from below as you help the wounded inside the dark shadows of the house.

The remainder are left to you. The injured are taken to the side room, and you quickly take in the survivors. Most seemed to have survived the journey well, and the few that didn’t you quickly work on setting to rights with the scarce medical supplies you have left. Their fellows, the ones that carried them half a click east, rest beside them, catching their breath and drinking from the precious water supply with measured sips.

Through some miracle, you don’t lose any more men.

The adrenaline crash kicks in right as you stand to inspect your work on the co-pilot, who you’ve managed to stabilize after he started flagging during the journey. He’s still unconscious, but occasionally you see his head move as he slowly tears himself away from the grave. You sway on your feet a moment, feeling the low ache of fatigue pull at you and settle in your bones. The poison of exhaustion slowly begins to leech into your veins as you wobble a bit towards somewhere a little more private, needing the darkness to cover you as you collect yourself away from your comrades.

You miss the words said to you by the soldier at the door, but they sound grateful, comforting. His hand on your shoulder is that of a friend.

It’s in the shadow of the house’s exterior that you finally collapse, lay your head against the exterior and breathe a deep sigh of relief. Your feet ache from the distance traveled, with you helping support one of the men on one shoulder, and the weight of your weapon in the other. You rub at your neck, trying vainly to relieve some of the ache there, groaning before scrubbing at your face, feeling the scent of blood cling to your fingers along with the grainy sand of the desert.

You’ll probably get a medal for this, you think idly. You try to bring yourself to care past the ache of your spine and dryness of your throat. Of course you’ll have to answer to the base commander about the exploded chopper when you get back- not to mention Price, though you know he’ll have fewer objections, given the circumstances. He’s always been a man of ingenuity and drive, and you know when you give him the mission report he’ll find a way to overlook one exploded helicopter compared to the lives you saved.

The thought of sitting through the paperwork regarding your impromptu escape plan has a weary sigh dragging from your chest. You’re so tired you think you could sleep for days. Now that you’re no longer pursued, and safe at shelter, the possibility of getting home and getting this shitstorm over with has never looked so promising. If you think about a hot shower a little too hard, you can feel your lip wobble a bit.

Just a few more hours, you whisper silently to yourself. Then debrief, which may take hours but at least will be back in the green zone, then a shower, a meal, and then hopefully twelve hours of uninterrupted sleep. The thought alone has you smile for the first time all night, and you cling to it as a lifeline against the temptation of crashing too hard down into exhaustion.

Footsteps approaching, and before they get close you already know them by the stride.

“Any news?” You ask as Ghost approaches and leans on the opposing corner of the house, the edge of him a dark shape in your periphery.

“Bird is waiting for clearance, but we’ll be clear by 0600.” Ghost offers flatly. You nod at that, taking in the good news with a quiet sigh of relief, until a gloved hand enters your vision.

“I don’t smoke.” You tell him as Ghost offers the cig towards you, and Ghost shrugs.

“You should.”

“Those things will kill you, you know.”

“So will helicopter crashes.” He drawls, and you huff a small sound of amusement despite yourself.

That’s true at least, and without much else to say you take the cigarette and lean towards the light Ghost offers you, eyes darting up to watch the orange shadows that dance over the white of his skull mask. It’s been a while since you dropped the habit you picked up in training, but a few puffs in you feel your shoulders drooping with ease as the buzz begins to settle over your brain.

“Not going to have one?” You ask as Ghost doesn’t move to light himself one in turn. You know he smokes, you’ve seen it. In the same way you catch glimpses of his chin and the slant of his mouth when he lifts bourbon to his tongue, you know the shape of his face under the mask, the scar that snakes towards his eyebrow and across his upper lip.

“Not tonight.” He tells you simply, but doesn’t make to move from where he stands.

Guarding, you think. Quiet, profound in the stillness.

When you look up at the sky, you can finally see the stars.

You think about the way the flicker of the lighter caught the browns of his eyes.

The billow of smoke curls away from you as you silently puff the cigarette, Ghost as a silent omnipresent shadow beside you.

“Tobacco isn’t good for concussions anyways.” You offer after a long few minutes of silence, and you think you hear Ghost make a mildly displeased sound. Yet when he doesn’t speak, you go on: “I saw you miss your shot.”

With the truck barreling towards you both, bullets pinging off the metal as the team desperately tried to stop it. You thought Ghost would take care of it- only for his own aim to bury itself deep in the soft, sloping sand.

Ghost never misses his shots. Especially at close range like that. You know him better than that.

Ghost stays quiet. He doesn’t offer excuses to you, and you know he’s not the type. More than that, he knows you won’t believe them.

“I’ll get it checked when we’re back at base.”

You frown at that, finally standing and flicking the remainder of the cig into the dirt, crushing it under your boot.

“Why?” You ask, brow drawing with disapproval. “I can check it out right now.”

Ghost watches you, shifting imperceptibly as if he expects you to close in on his space.

“Told you I’m fine.” He tells you again, voice a little lower in warning.

“Fine enough to miss shots.” You retort, and you can tell even in the dark with his mask on that Ghost frowns at you.

“Watch your tone, sergeant.” Ghost warns, voice low and eyes narrowing, and though instinctively you bite your tongue, you don’t step away from him.

It takes you a moment to realize why he’s being so stubborn. At first you think he sees your insistence as another usurpation of his command, a chance to deem him as unfit to lead and take over as CO. You could, in theory. When it comes to the well-being of the team, you outrank even Ghost. You learned your lesson from earlier though, and you thought Ghost would trust you to not try again.

Then, you blink.

The mask.

“Ghost.” You try again, softer now. “Just let me take a look. Won’t take but a minute. The others can’t see us here.”

Ghost is rigid with defensiveness, a novel expression of hesitation in his eyes. When he speaks, his voice is tight.

“I’ll check into medical after debrief.”

That bullshit and you know it. You can count the number of times you’ve seen Ghost in medical- and only ever for injuries he can’t tend to by himself. Short of a broken bone or bullet wound, Ghost would rather set his wounds by himself in the solitude of his room.

Like you, in the worst of ways you suppose.

You take a step forward into his space, and relish the brief flicker of surprise in Ghost’s eyes.

“You’re going to trust some base medic more than me?” You ask bluntly, resisting the urge to prod a finger against his vest. “Let some random soldier see your face when I’m right here?”

Ghost doesn’t move, his dark eyes boring down into yours as you glare.

“You said something a while back.” You go on as the voice of the past rings hollow in your ears. “Something about putting myself in danger trying to do everything by myself, right?”

In the hallway. Blood soaking your shirt. Your stitches torn as Ghost loomed dark and furious above you, cradling you as you begged him to look away from the things you couldn’t handle on your own.

How are you any different?

You want to accuse him of a double standard just to hear his defense, feel it engraved inside you how he’s different, better than you are- capable of taking care of himself where you aren’t. You want him to say it if only to feed the dark festering thing inside you filled with unjust comparisons, looking towards him as a north star you’ll never reach.

But this night has never been about hypocrisy. It’s been about trust.

Ghost stares at you, eyes unreadable in the dim light. He doesn’t speak. You don’t move.

“Fuckin’ hell.” Ghost grunts at last, and reaches up to unbuckle his helmet and NVGs, a murmur of frustration running through the line of his shoulders. “Be quick about it.”

You do just that as the helmet drops into the dirt beside him, reaching upwards and realizing you can hardly touch the top of his head.

“Sit.” You motion to a crate beside him, and you don’t need light to see the way Ghost sours at the order but complies, begrudging in a way that veils his discomfort.

“I won’t take long.” You try, unclipping your flashlight and holding it up towards his face just as he pulls the mask away and-

Oh.

You feel your breath stutter in your chest.

Ghost...Ghost is beautiful.

You’d dreamt of this moment. You’d dared to dream for months about what Ghost looks like without his mask. You’d let your eyes linger on the slope of his mouth when he smoked, or the way his tongue ran across his lips to savor the taste of bourbon. You’d imagined the taste of him, had dared to wonder what it would be like to feel his lips on yours. In the quiet solitude you’ve been haunted by the glowing amber of his gaze, dark like embers, burning with secrets yet unknown to you.

You’d wondered about the scars you couldn’t see, thought perhaps they’d look familiar to your own that dwell inside you.

Now, illuminated by the fluorescent light of your flashlight, you see him bare for the first time.

He has a strong jaw, and along it there’s the barest graze of stubble that you itch to scrape your fingers through. Your eyes trace the deep, jagged scar that snakes from under the collar of his shirt upwards, grazing the corner of his mouth before veering towards his eye. It looks deliberate, cruel, placed there by someone who rejoiced in their ability to inflict horrific memories upon his flesh. It joins a myriad of others, flicks of a knife and a burn mark just above his brow- and you know that these are not the scars of a man who earned them. They were given to him without his consent, his skin torn asunder by those who took his freedom away.

You feel something inside you tug in familiarity.

His lashes are blonde. As is his hair- buzzed short, a dusky dark color that looks almost like honey. Blood wets a spot at the top of his head, dyeing the color a rusty sort of red as it dries. A drip of it curls down towards his temple, and your eyes follow it back towards his eyes- focused on you with a stare that’s no different from when the mask is on. Driven, dangerous, and in them you somehow see yourself.

You stay there a moment, wound forgotten as you drink your fill of him, trying to engrave inside you all the details you can, wondering if this will be the first and last time you see more of him than you dared to dream.

“Looking respectfully, sergeant?”

You nearly startle at Ghost’s voice tearing you from your thoughts, face warming at being caught ogling him so blatantly. You avert your eyes, clearing the grit in your throat with a little cough, but when you glance quickly back at him you see Ghost is smiling.

It’s a wry sort of expression, the corner of his mouth tugging smugly as he watches you try not to squirm under his stare, and at the reminder of your poor attempts of flirting earlier on the helo. It has no right to be as disarming as it is, catching a glimpse of self-satisfaction flickering in his gaze as you remember to close your agape mouth.

“Very respectfully.” You manage at last, trying to sound professional but more winded than anything. The smile has dropped from his face- there and gone in only a moment, but the syrupy, melting warmth of the expression wells low in your stomach and threatens to further weaken your already unstable knees.

Cheeky bastard.

You avoid his eyes as you look at the contusion on his head, distractedly hovering your fingers over his sweaty hair if only to feel how soft you think it is.

“How bad is it?” Ghost grunts, impatient.

“...You’ll do.” You tell him blandly, scarcely swallowing down the words you want to say. Then, with a hint of retribution: “Still think you’d look better in green.”

The unamused look Ghost shoots you, if anything, seems only to encourage you. You feel your mouth twitch with something close to a grin.

“Stay still for a moment.” You tell him, taking out a bandage and gently blotting at the dried blood on his scalp as he hisses at the touch. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine.” He tells you, reaching up to hold the flashlight as you work. Briefly, his fingers skim across yours as you release the hold on it, and it takes a heavy yield of focus to not let your ministrations cease as your chest flutters.

True to your word, you try to work quickly, cleaning off the blood and as gently as you can trying to apply a smear of antibiotic ointment from your precious, limited supply. At last you secure a bandage to the contusion, and lean back to admire your handiwork.

“I don’t think you’ll need stitches, but you should get checked out on base just in case.” You declare softly, and Ghost nods only once before he’s reaching for his mask again, stealing away the vision of him before you have a chance to look one last time.

“and-” Ghost pauses as you speak, knuckles still grasping the bottom of his mask as he regrettably finishes pulling it over his face once more. “I promise not to tell anyone you’re a blonde.”

Ghost doesn’t move. Hardly even breathes, and after several long minutes of silence you begin to wonder if you’ve pushed him too far.

“Can’t have Gaz and Soap thinking I’m getting special treatment, after all.” You force yourself to laugh, busying yourself with tucking away the medical supplies. Ghosts eyes burn into your back. He’s quiet even as you zip up the med kit again.

“Is that what you call this then, Fix?”

You freeze, shoulders stiff, fingers clasped onto the zipper and thanking heaven you’re faced away from him so he doesn’t see the agape, nearly scandalized expression on your face.

“I-I’m just doing my job.” You stammer after a moment, and regret the words as soon as they leave your mouth. “...Sir.”

You’re almost thankful when Ghost hums as if he doesn’t quite believe you.

You turn to him, hoping the darkness conceals the utter bewilderment and wild hope in your expression. You feel unsteady on your feet, lost in this constant push and pull you’re both caught in, dancing just out of reach and never sure about the others intent. You blame it on the exhaustion when you sway a little on your feet, not expecting Ghost’s gloved hand to shoot out and balance you by your elbow.

Your eyes land on it, travel the path of his arm up to the dark swirl of his irises behind the mask and feel your breath catch and hold in your chest.

Ghost doesn’t speak, doesn’t let go, and in return you find yourself entirely absent of the words you wish you could say.

You want him closer, closer than this. You want to feel the frame of him bracket you against the wall, that same hand traveling up to grab your face as he kisses you. You want him to take the mask off so you can see his mouth again, the pink of his lips that haunts you in your waking daydreams. You want him to say something, anything, that might confirm this isn’t just a dream, that you aren’t creating illusions within your lovesick mind.

You want him so much it aches to not have him.

“Ghost.” You whisper at last, barely audible in case the others somehow hear. Ghost stares at you, dark eyes unblinking, unreadable, until he seems to come to a quiet conclusion within himself.

“Steady on your feet, Fix.” He murmurs carefully, and when his thumb strokes just once on the inside of your elbow, you shudder.

He lets go then, almost reluctantly, and draws away. The absence of him leaves you even dizzier than before, forcing yourself to stand strong as he quietly paces away.

“Get some rest, soldier.” He offers, shouldering his weapon once more and making for the rooftop. “You deserve it.”

You wait until he’s gone to sit heavily on the crate beside you, the one that still has a bit of his warmth from where he perched. You can feel your heartbeat in your ears, skin too warm under your loadout and mind reeling.

The softness of his voice, the wry smile, the lilt of his voice when he teased you, the mere touch of him has you leaning back and blinking dumbly at the sky, trying and failing to think through it all.

You deserve it.

It’s the closest thing you’ll get to praise in all this, but it matters little compared to the image of Ghost with that wickedly handsome grin that you know will haunt you for weeks to come.

Heaven help me.

You think all the sinners and the saints can’t help the way you’ve damned yourself for him.

Eventually you force yourself to stand and make your way back to the team sheltered inside the house. You go through practiced motions of ensuring the injured are set, before finally slumping against one of the corners, where one of the marines makes room for you. He passes you a canteen, which you take gratefully, and when you hand it back there’s a smile that wasn’t there at the start of the mission- something that speaks of trust. Respect.

Above you, in the quiet, you hear Ghost’s voice rumble to the other marine sergeant. On watch, as he always is, keeping you in his six just as you keep him in yours.

You drift off to the vision of his smile, and awaken at dawn to return home alongside him in the chopper, his leg pressed against yours warmly. On the tarmac Ghost lingers as you rush with the others to the infirmary, and you feel his eyes look after you as he fades into the distance.

The phantom press of his stare chases you in the hours to come as exhaustion threatens to sweep your legs out from under you, wishing he was there once more to keep you steady, to hold you. You try to remember his face as best you can, the scar on his jaw, the blonde flutter of his lashes. You try and fail to keep the thing inside you dim, refusing to let the dalliance of hope from alighting it into a blaze that threatens to consume you.

When you finally do sleep in your own bed, you find yourself wishing you weren’t alone, and hoping someday you won’t have to be.

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#simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost x reader #Simon ghost riley x oc #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x ofc #reader insert #cod x reader #fic: shadow and bone #oc: fix #fic: snowblind #It's done!!#Finally!!#Now onto these two FINALLY banging each other and having feelings about it 😭

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unikron-kitten-kat · 1 year

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after that i dont want. i need a part 2 >:) give us the goods!

Oh my Zalgo ITS DONE!! Ya'll wanted some part 2, and you shall receive!! One of my previous posts clears something up about [the reader] in this one, so you can find that if you end up getting confused about a certain something mentioned in here!

Slenderman x Male Reader, Smut this time!

Kinks may include: mpreg; tentacles; praise; nicknames: slender maybe calls you stuff like pet or little spiderling, or stuff like that; overstim;

No tws that I know of in here.. I dont think anyway... Now enjoy!!

His Dearest

Mine Nøw

It has been a while since you have become a Slenderbeing.

A long while.

You are now completely adapted to the warped time of the dimension your Boss keeps you all in, your internal clock warped when you transformed completely.

It was the next day, after your completion.

The others saw you.

And oh boy..

Were they jealous.

Envious..

Angry...

They despised you. They hated how you, a total outsider to them, ripped the spotlight off their stage, and held it over yourself.

But they knew how oblivious you were to it all. They knew. And they hated your.. Naivety. They hated the favoritism.

And don't get me started on the Big Boys, the.. The Proxies Slender favored before he brought you home. Before he introduced you to his other servants finally.

Toby, Masky, and Hoodie were slapped in the face the hardest. They no longer had the large favor they used to have with Slender, and Toby even got into serious trouble with Slender for messing with you.

But now that you were... Like that!?

God, being that close with Slender was only something any other Proxie could dream of now.

But, they don't know the full extent to your closeness. At least, the fondness Slender has for you, anyway.

You see, ever since you started... Blooming.. Really fitting into your new body.. He had slowly become infatuated with you. He slowly started to find you adorable.. Cute.. So naive... Fuckable... Breedable... His to have.. His.. To own.. His.. His...

And lo and behold, after being under his wing for the few decades you were, the universe finally let him have you..

In the form of the results of your receiving a piece of Slender's magic and powerful essence to grow more powerful with... In the form of a Slenderbeing Cadaver.

The perfect chance to finally make you his.

And he took it without hesitation.

If he didn't find you so cute as a tiny little human, he certainly found you cute and gorgeous now.

You are sitting on a log, fiddling with your magic, letting the sparking, ribbony lengths of sickly-green and gold wrap and twine between your fingers, even motioning for it to flow around the chest claws you had.

There was something about the colour that entranced you. Something was off about it. And, you very soon learned what it was. Your magic, green and gold as it was, had some semblance of His. There was a hint of a dark maroon that cracked and sliced through your magic.

You wonder if it had anything to do with the fact it was his magic that made you like this. That his magic gave you your own.

You inhaled sharply, startled, whipping your head to see it was only him who touched your tentacles.

Yours, unlike his, looked like long ropes of whispy cobweb, bundled up. They had your magic coursing through them as well, giving them a green and golden glow in some parts.

"Hello Little Spider.."

"H.. Hey.."

His hands were on your shoulder. Your face flushed, the dark green that was your blood now painted your face a different colour than a human.

He pressed his body against yours. His face rested in the crook of your neck.

Both sets of his arms wrapped around you, and he hummed in contentment. His tentacles wrapped around yours, some even trailing to your body, and wrapped around your thighs or chest.

His arms moved to lift you off the log, him then moving himself onto the log behind you, you now sitting in his lap.

His arms are back around you, holding you against him. He is warm. His arms and tentacles were trailing and rubbing their touch all over, not leaving an inch of you untouched. He wasn't applying any pressure either, just touching you. His touch still felt hot even through your clothes.

His hands, one pair, trailed down from your neck, to your abdomen, and they stopped. The rest didn't stop though. Just the one pair on your abdomen.

You let out an inquisitive whimper, looking down to his hands resting there.

"... Would be.." He paused, and moved his face to the back of your neck, "Would be endearing to see you..", his hands resting on your abdomen rubbed it in circles, "full.. Of my children..."

Your face lit up bright green, your eyes widening, your other eyes even opening in your shock at his statement.

"Wh.. What?"

"Wouldn't you like that, [Name]?"

"I-I-"

"You can't deny it, [Name]. I know.. What you dream about.. I know what makes you wake up wet in the pants.."

Your face might as well be a lamppost with how deeply coloured your face was now, the green glowing bright with the help of your magic, which seemed to.. Imitate your emotion with brightness and fluidity.

"I.. Could see what you dreamed of, you silly little thing. I saw what you thought of when you tried your hardest to keep those... Filthy thoughts to yourself."

You made a small noise, your body tensing with embarrassment at the realization his hands and tentacles were getting more.. Antsy.

The ones on your abdomen trailed down to rest on the inside of your thighs, rubbing the sensitive skin in circles very close to your crotch.

You hadn't realized that your hands, the four, had grabbed onto his arms, your embarrassment leading to quite a grip that human bones wouldn't be able to withstand.

"I mean.. Even if you weren't a Slenderbeing at this current time..", he trailed off, his upper hands slipping under your shirt and trailing up to rub and grope your pecs, his palms would rub over your nipples, "I would still be rewarding you for being such a good servant for me..."

His voice was right next to your ear, his mouth opening to nibble at your jaw.

You were trembling, and your crotch was throbbing, so was that spot on your neck that Slender licked with his tongue a while back. The feeling seemed to only ebb away when Slender got close to touching them.

This made you subconsciously move your throbbing areas against him, chasing his touch there.

His other hands and tentacles were getting more sensual with their touches, squeezing sensitive areas of your flesh, flitting over the ridges of your neck, ribs.. His fingers would ghost over your mouth, his tentacles wrapped around your limbs, opening your legs, and wrapping your arms behind you to pin them to your back.

One hand came up to grasp your chin, his fingers splaying slightly, and his palm gave enough force to push your head back, you now facing up.

The little whimper that scrimped past your trembling lips made Slender chuckle.

"You like this, [Name]? You like my hands on your body? My tentacles on your body?"

You let out a trembly affirming hum. He chuckled again, and he used to fingers to trail down your neck from your chin, and back up.

"Use your words, my pretty mate....." He whispered, his voice trailing off.

Your voice wavered as you spoke, "Y-yess... Mm.. I-I do like it..." Your voice trailed to a whisper.

His sensual touches continued. His hands would squeeze your arms, your chest, your thighs, and rub back up again, his fingers ghosting their touch along the lines your muscles made as his hands traveled. His tentacles resigned to holding you, their slimey cold touch moving as they pulsed and slithered against your skin in the places they held you.

Your pants were interrupted with trembly moans and gasps at his touch and the stimulation.

One of his hands groped your crotch, soon slipping into your pants, his palm rubbing against the wetting slits of the flaps covering your dick, your back arching and a gasp leaving your slightly drooling mouth at the touch.

His fingers rubbed at the slits to your flaps, another hand of his slipping your loose pants off your legs and down to your ankles easily.

Your hands, now held behind your back, tensed into fists with the new attention to your aching, pulsing wet.

Your dick was pressing against the flaps, making it easier for Slender to slid a finger in the middle of the four flaps, sliding them apart, trails of slick and pre covered his fingers and stretched between the flaps. Another hand came down to help his other seperate the flaps, all four now splayed, your throbbing dick out for him to see.

Slender pressed his palm to the base of all your tender flesh, a moan drawled out your mouth, his fingers wrapping around the base of your dick, gently squeezing the knot you now had, and another moan shook your throat.

He stroked you, up and down, your legs shaking, breath shuddering, body trembling. Your tentacles wavered, them finding his own arms and legs to weakly wrap around. Pre beaded at your tip, Slender's thumb rubbing over it to smear your dick with it.

Your back arched more, your shoulders pressing into Slenderman, his upper hands slid down to your hips, to rock you against his own excitement. You settled after he stroked you a few more times, trying to and failing to roll your hips against his touch to your dick.

He kissed your neck. Not where you needed him to though. He scraped his teeth against your skin, gently biting you. He nipped your jaw, trailing bigger bites down. He found sensitive areas you'd shiver at, and sucked them black and blue.

One of his lower hands traced the wet, tender flesh of your unhidden dick lower, to your begging tunnel. He kissed your neck hard, resting his face into your neck as your body arched in his lap again, a quick moan escaping your drooling mouth, his fingers dipping into your dripping hole. His fingers gently and slowly rubbed along your entrance, sliding in and out against your walls, a breathy chuckle came from him.

"You are doing so well [Name]. So good.. Keep being good and I'll give you a bigger reward~" He whispered into your ear.

He hummed at the following shudder that shook your body against him. Your cunt quivered around his fingers, you whimpering, squirming at his touch. Slender dragged the length of his fingers against your entrance, the tips dipping into you briefly. He brought his slick coated fingers to his mouth, where he tasted your essence.

"Mmm, you are tasty, [Name].."

You shuddered, exhaling.

Your clothes were feeling hot against your skin. You needed them off.

You were in quite the daze, so it took you a moment to register that Slender was pushing the both of you up into standing.

Once you both were though, he had to hold you against him. Your legs were wobbly. You weren't used to the increased stimulant of being touched places in this body.

It was the faint but sudden breeze that made you realized he had removed your coat. He was starting on your shirt then too.

He suddenly turned you around, and you were suddenly against a tree. He was removing his suit jacket now.

"Open."

It was your mouth he wanted open. And you opened it, exhaling slightly when you did.

The force of the kiss had you whimpering, his upper pair of hands roughly grabbed your wrists, a pair of tentacles grabbed your lower ones. His sudden roughness had you squirming in between him and the tree, your crotch was also unbelievably hot, and was leaking with slick and pre.

Your upper arms were held against the tree, level with your head, and your lower ones were "cuffed" with his tentacles behind your back, making it arch into him.

He was rough with you. He was grinding his leg in between yours, his pants getting wet with your excrement, he was hardly letting you breathe with the messy kisses with tongues.

Your squirming against him riled him up. Jeez, he can't restrain you enough can he?

He pulled away, finally letting you breath in short, moaning gasps.

You froze and shuddered, a low growl emanating from him. The sound only made you chitter weakly, a groan left your throat as he started trailing nibbles down your neck.

His tentacles were holding your thighs apart.

His mouth was resting on the spot that was oddly throbbing now. You were (trying) to push your neck up into his mouth.

Slender hummed.

He dragged the tip of his tongue along the achy spot, making you shudder and squirm. He pressed against you after hearing the whimpery moan you made.

His skin was smooth, and in your sex-numbed daze you saw prominent veins of magik pulsing with his magik colour along his arms and body.

You gasped as you felt him press against your weeping tunnel.

"You ready, [Name]?"

You whimpered an answer, shuddering at the huskiness of his voice.

You yelped as you were both suddenly down, on a floor, him on top of you, but you weren't able to process that much before his dick started sliding into you.

You were so wet he didn't need to stop until he was completely inside you.

His lower arms were holding your hips as your back arched, his upper ones each had both sets of yours in their grasp, still pinning you down.

He had finally bitten that spot of your neck that ached for it, it sent a pulse of something through you.

You gasped, and moaned sweetly as he started rocking slowly into you, pulling out till just his tip was hitched on your entrance and then pushing back in.

He had you pinned down to the carpet covered floor completely, still slowly thrusting into you, and kissing you roughly, his tongues playing with yours.

As his hips rocked against yours, his body rubbed against yours.

His kisses didn't waver in their passion, and he didn't neglect your 'mark', the specific spot of your neck he bit.

Your moans filled the room. His groans and quiet grunts were stiffled by them. Your cunt would squeeze him, blinding you with stars and filling you with pleasure, making your arch into him. His tentacles were stroking your dick in between your bodies.

The sounds of his dick slipping into you were wet.

"Fuck, [Name], your so tight... And wet... So warm too..."

You whined, his dick felt so large, even despite your new size compared to him. You thought it wouldn't feel as tight.

It was pulsing inside you, the ridges it had rubbed along your walls, making you shake and fat tears well up in your eyes.

He was thrusting very deep into you, you swear even being around his size and height he was filling you much more than you were supposed to handle. But you loved it. His dick was warm, and thick. And hard. Its ridges rubbed against your gummy walls whenever he moved inside you, making pleasure reverb through you.

Despite being pinned, you still squirmed, and pressing into him.

He had let go of your lower arms, the hands of which were tightly gripping his lower shoulders.

He was thrusting so deep. So so deep. You felt him squeeze his way further into you, you felt him in your tummy. It made that area of your body feel tight.

His teeth were marking any place he could bite down on; your shoulders, your collar, neck, nibbling on your jaw, your chest. Anywhere. The moans and sobs of pleasure eminating from you made him warm and riled. He was close to going feral on you.

The crotch tentacles you both had were wrapping around eachother and were trying to pulling your hips closer.

He thrust into a particular area that made moans get caught in your throat, and he didnt stop hitting it.

His rough but soft thrusts would drag his dick along that spot, making your legs turn to jelly, and the breath leave your lungs. The hot, pangy and painful pleasure the motion spazzed through your body made you go limp against him.

He hugged you to him as you arched into him again, his mouth next to your ear.

"You are doing.. So, so good [Name].."

He shuddered as your sopping cunt squeezed him. His tentacles squeezed your dick when it pulsed in their grasp.

Your moans wavered, his hand grabbed your head.

"That's it [Name], be a good little spider. Be a good little spider and spill. Come on, little spider.. Cum for me.."

His deep and gruff words sent you ober the edge, your moans loud, his tentacles pumping you even as you came all over the both of you. His tentacles slithered in spirals around your dick, moving as they climbed and sank, one rubbing over your slit as cum continued spilling from it.

You felt your cunt was quivering, and he laid you completely down to the ground again, hugging you still, as he sped up his thrusts, bringing quick and loud moans out of you.

Your cunt clamped around him as you spilled there too, your claws scratching at his back you came around his cock, and your loud, wanton moans echoed in the room a bit. The pressure from how tightly you were squeezing him made your vision darken and stars appear.

He didn't stop thrusting into you, however. In fact, he did quite the opposite, thrusting harder into you, his dick roughly rubbing along your sweet spot now, the ridges pulling small squeals of pleasure from you.

Two pairs of large tentacles messaged your chest muscles, and smaller tentacles slithered along your body and found ares to suction to to leave dark bruises on your now moon-pale skin.

The hands Slenderman didn't have occupied with keeping you pinned were used to slide and rub across your body, squeezing other sensitive areas.

Your moans quivered and wavered, and your lungs desperate for air, pulling even more desperate pants out of you, and yet he wasn't letting up. You tried to find words to plead for less, to beg him to go easier on you, it was too much, but your voice couldn't muster the words, nonetheless form them in your head.

Drool and tears were ebbing from your mouth and eyes, your eyes were heavy and lidded with the pleasure, your upper ones closed because you were beginning to grow tired and exhausted from how much at once your body was experiencing.

Slender could tell you were getting tired. Your grip on him was softening, your body was practically going limp beneath him, your voice was wavering and stuttering, your pretty song was fading.

The slick and sloppy sounds his dick made as it slid in and out of your soaking cunt were now loud with the added slick from your orgasm, making a mess.

Your dick was beginning to hurt, it was being overstimulated beyond belief. Your hadn't made yourself cum more than once at a time before.

You choked as you felt a second pair of orgasms building inside you, the feeling spreading warmth and making you exhale shakily.

You whimpered feeling him drill into you as hard as he could. He was looming over you, no longer needing to pin you down himself anymore.

He chuckled, the sound making you lazily look at him.

"You look so cute like this [Name].. Had I known you would look so good, I'd have done this to you at least once while you were still human..."

You couldn't react to his statement as the orgasms that were building finally released. Your back weakily arching as both your throbbing dick and swollen pussy released cum at once, your jelly legs weakily moved too, and your upper hands were grabbed by his as they closed from the immense wave of pleasure that shook your body.

When you body went limp again from the end of it, he was still going. Your hands weakily closed around his.

You sobbed as your dick was painfully brought back to life from Slender's tentacles, and your tired pussy was also pushed beyond its limits.

Your body was loosing its strength seemingly. The orgasms came much quicker, a third already sneaking up on you, and your loud wanton moans were reduced to whimpers and whines.

You whimpered loudly as you felt the third orgasm.

"Don't worry, [Name], we'll have.. a nice hot bath when we're done here.." His words were interrupted with his quiet grunts.

It didn't take long for a third set of orgasms to shake your body, tears spilled from your eyes, and drool from your mouth as you let out weak little moans.

It was now you were feeling his movements become sloppy. His lower hands softly grabbed your thighs and folded your legs, giving himself a much better angle to fill you.

But this new angle had him reaching deeper into you, somehow. You looked, a shuddery gasp escaping you as you saw the small but noticeable bulge that showed. Your dick was red, and painfully throbbing.

You let out a pained moan as a fourth pair of orgasms slienced you, your meak moans getting caught up in your throat.

Even more so when you felt the sudden hot spread up into you. You shuddered, whining with pleasure.

He was still inside you, his knot inside you as well.

He was beathing deeply, you were panting.

He thrust slow and gentle a few times, to lessen the mess.

You squirmed, gasping and whining at a bigger lump forcing its way into you.

"Shhhh, it's okay [Name]."

Slender held you cheek.

"It's just my eggs~"

You let out a meak whimpery moan as the lump slid all the way into you, down to where his tip was in you, right up against your.. Ah.. Uterus? Did you have one of those if you had a pussy? Yes. You do have one, and Slender was filling it.

"Fuck, you look so cute all fucked out like this... We should do this more often [Name]."

Your body felt numb, and limp. It felt so warm to, the hot from Slenderman's seed spread through you.

It took a moment before he was done. He had trouble pulling out though. You were very tight now, something all Slenderbeings did when they got their fill. It was a way to keep it all inside.

He pulled out, finally, your cunt actually closing up. He pulled you down, level with him.

He was gentle in pulling you up. And slow.

Your legs were completely jelly. You couldn't even stand with them.

He picked you up though. Bridal style.

"Looks like someone's too tired for a bath..."

You were pretty much asleep in his arms.

You inquisitively whimpered feeling warmth cover you.

You felt him cuddle up with you. Ah, you were in a bed, under some blankets.

"Sleep well, [Name]... I love you, my pretty mate.."

One of his hands stroked your cheek.

"L...love you too..."

You fell asleep in his arms, wrapped up in eachother.