Simon Riley

You’d known from the beginning of your relationship that Simon Riley is a possessive man. He’s not the type of possessive man who makes you cut off your male friends or gets mad if you go drinking without him, but he does make sure that you remember who you belong to.

Whether that be marking you up so much that no makeup in the world could cover it or fucking you until you couldn’t walk properly, Simon never hesitated to remind you of who you go home to. A few months into your relationship, Simon had started talking about tattooing you. It wasn’t unexpected, he became a tattoo artist after retiring from the military and you are a completely blank canvas, but you were also very aware that he’d see it as a permanent mark. A constant reminder of who he is to you.

So you made him wait. You weren't opposed to the idea, you had always wanted a tattoo and having your partner do it seemed perfect. You trusted him more than anything and you do love his art style. It just had to wait. You weren't sure what you wanted and a small part of you was still a little worried that Simon would find someone else. Someone who actually understood what it was like to be a soldier.

You learned very quickly that you didn’t have to worry about that when Simon insisted that you'd let him tattoo you after he proposed. That you agreed to. A proposal is pretty damn certain and what better way is there to celebrate? Simon certainly couldn’t think of one and honestly you couldn’t either. A tattoo done by the person you plan to spend the rest of your life with, the person you trust the most, there really is no better thing.

Simon was surprisingly patient. You had half expected him to propose as soon as he possibly could but instead he waited until your second anniversary. He proposed in what you thought was the most perfect way. It was quiet, peaceful, just the two of you. You couldn’t imagine a better proposal.

That very proposal is how you’ve found yourself here, naked from the waist down in a private room of Simon’s tattoo shop, away from prying eyes. You’re in Simon’s lap, his cock buried deep in you as he tattoos your upper thigh. He had told you the rules at the very beginning. You don’t get to cum unless you hold still, you need to be quiet lest one of his co-workers try to drop off numbing cream.

You’re gripping his shirt with one hand, being careful not to block Simon’s access to your thigh, your other hand is covering your mouth. You had almost failed at the being quiet part of the rules before the tattoo even started when you moaned as Simon bottomed out. Now that he’s tattooing you it’s even harder, soft gasps and whimpers escaping you almost constantly.

“You’re doin’ so good f’me sweetheart.” Simon murmurs, gripping your hip with his free hand. He smirks when you clench around him, the praise definitely not helping you ignore the way his cock stretches you and how desperate you are to move.