#CoD smut

[lay-z]

cotton candy clouds | 4

Synopsis: Due to his rank, status, and many combat achievements, Lieutenant Riley is assigned an emotional support hybrid by the brass; whether he likes it or not.

Pairing: handler!Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x dog!hybrid!fem!Reader

Warnings/Info: 18+ MDNI | Reader is a purebred Samojede (dog)hybrid. Despite ears, tails, and their adapted nature/instincts and personalities, hybrids have human features. | bimbo!Reader; hypersexuality; slow-burnish; heavy smut; tw: past (sexual) abuse/manipulation; cussing; fluff/domesticity; humour; angst; hurt/comfort; eventual romance; strangers to lovers; dub-con elements (Mind the warnings for each chapter!)

☁ ccc; masterlist

Whenever Simon spares you a glance to remind himself that this new and strange arrangement is real, he finds you staring right back at him somehow.

Always making eye contact; holding his unwavering gaze with a silent expectation that makes his chest feel tight and his brain go numb, grappling for answers. Multiple times he's caught himself biting the tip of his tongue harshly to refrain himself from barking “What?” at you, demanding an answer in exchange for his cluelessness: What do you want from me?

He's building a mountain of expectations in his mind involuntarily while lacking the gear and a strategy in how to climb it properly. It's too high, and he knows he can never reach the top unscathed.

How can he possibly take care of you if he can barely take care of himself outside of what is required of him? He keeps himself fit, alive, able to function, always ready to follow an order and go in for the kill. That’s what he knows, what he’s comfortable with, but this?

Simon doesn't play house, doesn't know how to handle something so... domestic and delicate. He never experienced it growing up, never witnessed normalcy. If he would care about such things now, he’d have a wife or something akin to one, but he doesn’t–never even had a partner before, never bothered to believe himself fit for dating, for letting someone in like this.

Even the soft clothes you're wearing make him recoil; pastel colours having the opposite effect of red to a bull–so odd and out of place to him, and he knows the callouses on his fingers would simply catch on the fabric if he were ever to reach out to you for whatever reason, like a sheep’s fine wool catching on a thorn brush, scratching and tearing.

“What would you like for dinner?”

Simon blinks twice, thrice, before the question comes through his thick skull, vision slowly clearing despite him having stared at you for the past minutes while you were sitting on his couch patiently the whole time, eager as ever now that he willingly took you back to his flat again.

Why did you even sign the handlership without knowing him at all beforehand? Are you really that oblivious? That naïve? Or did the brass coax you into signing it?

“Simon?”

The way you keep saying his name so casually, makes his chest ache, makes him inhale sharply each time. What would he like for dinner? It should be such a simple question, but it seems like a puzzle to him–a thousand pieces, all in the same bloody colour.

“Why? Ya offering to cook for me, lass?” He snorts humourlessly. It's ridiculous. No one cooks for him unless he goes to the mess hall to get some grub.

“Of course, I'd love to!” You answer immediately, flashing a genuine smile. His eyes flicker to your tail when it starts to wag again and he curls his lips under his mask. Isn't he supposed to take care of you? What even is this bloody handlership? His brows draw together quizzically, making that deep crease reappear between them. Perhaps he should’ve read it before putting his signature on the damn paper.

Then he sighs in resignation. “Do whatever you want, just stay out of my room,” he replies and makes a half-hearted gesture towards the kitchen. “Not sure wha’s in the fridge. Been a few days since I went to the store,” he admits begrudgingly, kissing his teeth in annoyance when his stomach grumbles.

“Well then,” you say tentatively, tail stilling on the couch, “–why don't we go shopping for groceries?”

It’s already late afternoon, when Simon pulls up to the parking lot in front of the local supermarket in town with a truck he borrowed, deciding it’s better for his own nerves to take you somewhere else but the stores they have on base.

He just can’t bring himself to keep you on a leash around his peers, to parade you around wearing a pink collar around your neck with his rank and military ID number stitched into its leather–a ‘gift’ from the bloody gift basket Price had delivered to his flat along with the initial shock of your presence.

And, by god, he wants to drop the leash and run in the other direction as soon as the automatic sliding doors swoosh open and his boots step foot into the store with you in tow–a red shopping basket clutched in his other hand.

What an absurd picture it must be to other shopgoers–a behemoth with a skull mask and cargo pants buying veggies and snacks with a gorgeous hybrid woman on a pink leash and matching collar. Kinky, he muses unintentionally and grits his teeth, cringing at his own stupid thought. It’s then and there Simon decides to murder Price next chance he gets.

“Mummy, look!” A toddler exclaims, pointing at you as he peeks his head into the produce aisle. Simon’s eyebrow raises beneath his mask as the little boy approaches shyly, his wide eyes fixated on you. Civilians, especially kids and women, usually avoid him like the plague whenever he’s out and about in public, looking like, well–himself.

“Hello there,” you coo at the toddler, crouching down to his level while Simon keeps as much distance as the leash allows him to, knowing better than to interfere. “Are you looking for your mama?” You ask attentively, ears twitching as you look past the boy, already searching for his parents.

The boy shakes his head with a big smile, rocking on his feet. “Nu-uh, she’s–”

“Noah!” The frantic voice of a woman calls out. “I told you to stay by–” Her eyes widen, steps faltering briefly as she catches sight of Simon, who has already anticipated the reaction, slumping his shoulders to try and make himself look smaller, less threatening.

“He’s okay,” you chime in swiftly, straightening up to be on eye-level with Noah’s mother. “We were about to help him look for you, madam,” you assure her, and the boy giggles when you ruffle his brown unruly curls briefly. “Isn’t that right, big man?”

The conversation fades into the background just like Simon’s whole presence seemingly does as you go on to hold a friendly and effortless conversation with the mother and her son. Meanwhile, Simon doesn’t quite remember the last time someone approached him so casually and jovially, and he gets lost in his own rotten mind with flashbacks of the past again–seeing the ghosts of Beth and Joseph in these strangers in front of him, and his heart is gripped by icy tendrils of grief and melancholy until your laugh breaks through the vision, pulling him back to reality at once.

“Oh, no worries! I’m sure it is strange to see someone like me in a quaint town like this,” you chuckle softly, giving a small wave with your hand while Simon’s pale lashes flutter as he tries to follow the conversation once more after what he’s missed. He notices how the toddler is giggling, petting and hugging your fluffy tail while you continue talking to his mum like it’s nothing unordinary. “But working for the military has brought me to the strangest places where hybrids are either a common occurrence or completely rare and more like a myth,” you explain patiently.

And the woman smiles coyly, already smitten with your charms. “Well, you certainly are a looker if I dare say so, miss.”

Once Alice, as she'd introduced herself, and Noah go about their own shopping, Simon catches the odd look on your face, something akin to sadness or longing hidden behind your smile, before you rapidly blink it away as a grumpy-looking elderly man approaches you, asking for help as if you'd know your way around while Simon groans internally, already despising all the attention.

You really do turn heads in a rather positive way if you manage to make the most grumpy old geezer smile in a heartbeat.

“You always this chipper?” He gruffs as he watches you add a pound of butter and coffee creamer to the overflowing basket, not that he'd care about that. You've been nothing but mindful of prices and proper nourishment while strolling through the aisles.

“Hm?” Simon snorts, in amusement this time. There's no way you didn't hear him; he saw your plush left ear swivel in his direction. “Ya heard me jus’ fine, lass.” He mutters, grabbing a box of his favourite biscuits as he walks past them and shoving them in between the other goodies, feeling like a child sneaking candy into their parent's shopping cart.

“Oh, yeah,” you chuckle, keeping your eyes trained on the shelves with different brands of toast before grabbing a packaged loaf. “I guess I am.” Then you stop, glancing up at him over your shoulder, and Simon nearly bumps into you. “You don't like people coming up to us to chat?”

Simon's brows furrow. Us? “They wanna talk you, not me. 'm basically–” He shrugs, making a vague gesture at himself as the leash clinks in his hand.

“A Ghost?” You quip, beaming at your little joke while your tail swishes proudly.

“Right,” Simon huffs quietly. “Smooth.”

He's rather thankful for his balaclava as he continues trotting after you through the store, hiding the tiniest crack of a smile underneath the black cloth.

There’s a match on the telly, an ice cold bottle of his favourite ale on the coffee table on a coaster he didn’t even know he owned, though all Simon can really focus on is this bizarre situation he finds himself watching as you go about doing your own thing in his kitchen.

It’s almost mesmerizing, the way you rummage through the cupboards and drawers, taking out pots and bowls to your liking as if you own the place already, preparing a side salad while the steaks sizzle in the pan–all while you’re wearing that frilly, pale pink apron that you’d fetched from your suitcase earlier, the one that makes Simon wonder if one of your previous handlers is responsible for your peculiar wardrobe, or if pink simply happens to be your favourite colour.

He takes an absentminded sip of his drink when another thought pops into his head: What if you wear all of this hyper-feminine bollocks because people forced you to like it? What if they manipulated you into enjoying stuff to state their own perverted fantasies? Would you rather wear something else?

And Simon imagines it briefly–you wearing something cosy, perhaps one of his hoodies that would most likely swallow you whole. He takes another swing of ale and his nose wrinkles, though it’s not the bitterness making him squinch.

“Dinner is ready in five,” you croon suddenly, popping your head into the living room from the kitchen as the savoury aroma of steak and chips wafts through the flat, engulfing the usually sparse space like a warm, comforting blanket.

With a soft groan and a cracking knee, Simon gets up from his seat on the couch. The least he can do is set the table.

@lucienofthelakes @kakashiislut @jggykhug09090 @edgarapoecolouredglasses @kerst666 @whos-fran @d1zzy-r1v3rs @userinaliel666 @annoyingstrawberryballoon @vmaxis @tessakate @dneicjefx @sushiumex @yourfavreggie @cmbghost @brokexintroverted @mysterygrl555 @bunnybeaches @fmlmf @teapartydreams @nachofriess @slut-lmao @sweetnanah @kodzukenwhore @thefutureastronaut @arael-asuka @oliver-1270

[simonsrileyhusband]

after care with simon but its him the one that needs it.

simon who puts everything on making you feel good, giving you another round and another. who always makes sure you are satisfied and full.

that when he is done he goes quiet, nuzzling and cuddling up to you. closing his eyes and softly moaning when he takes in your scent.

and he gets all shy when you whisper how good he was, making you feel so good. praising him, telling him how big and strong he is, how handsome and sexy your simon is.

he cant help but squeeze you on his arms as you rub his back, like a good little puppy.

[motomamita]

pervert!könig × pornstar!reader

warnings: +18, smut, sextape, könig cums in his pants, let's imagine that his mask has a hole in the area of ​​his lips., creampie!

part 1

könig was tempering, he didn't know if it was from nerves or excitement. as his large body approached the door of your hotel room, he couldn't help but wonder if you were as beautiful as in the videos, and more importantly, if you could have feelings for him.

his legs almost gave out as you opened the door and smiled widely at him. surprisingly you approached him to hug him, surrounding his muscular body with your arms. all your delicious aroma invaded him and he could feel every part of your body on his.

könig tried to say something but only moans came out of his mouth that he tried to hide. he felt discomfort in his crotch and it didn't take long for him to notice that he had just cum in his pants. all your fault and your beauty.

when it was time to record, you were already on the bed, wearing a transparent night gown and with your look that almost made könig finish for the second time. he put on his mask and prepared to fulfill his greatest dream: fucking you.

könig pounced on you and began to kiss you roughly while his large hands ran over your skin under the night gown. his fingers dug into your skin, marking it and making you moan against his lips.

"fuck it, I need to fuck you now."

in a quick movement könig put you face down, as if you weighed nothing. out of desperation, he tore your night gown, leaving you exposed. he placed a pillow under your belly, making your back curve as delightfully as he was used to seeing you in the videos.

könig buried his nose into your pussy, sniffing your scent and sucking clumsily in an attempt to make his cock not hurt you so much. from the videos you had seen, könig had a tremendously big cock and the way he fucked his fleshlight had given you the idea that it was going to hurt.

he tried to hold back and slowly enter you but to no avail. his first thrusts were deep and fast, making you moan and forcing you to grab onto the sheets. you could feel every vein and how his cock throbbed inside you, stretching you painfully delicious.

könig grabbed your hips tightly and moved you as if you were his fleshlight, fucking you on his cock. with each thrust the tip of his cock kissed your cervix and your ass hit hard against his muscular legs.

you turned your face to get a good shot for the camera and noticed how könig looked at you with a lost look, almost as if he were in a trance while he automatically fucked you. totally immersed in the pleasure that your pussy gave him.

you moaned his name, getting his attention. könig looked at you for a few moments before grabbing you by the neck and bringing you towards him, crashing your back against his chest. he continued fucking you but now his eyes were locked on yours. in a loving act, he gave you a sweet kiss on your forehead.

suddenly, he came out inside you to turn you over and place you on your back. you couldn't react when he was now fucking you again with your legs over his shoulders and his cock stretching your sensitive pussy.

könig was out of his mind, totally clouded by pleasure and almost completely forgot that tou were filming. he buried his head in your breasts, licking and biting your nipples while your nails scratched your beefy back.

"im gonna cum, im gonna cum.."

he moaned painfully into your chest, increasing his thrusts and placing all of his weight on top of you. by that time you had completely forgotten that they were recording and you let yourself be carried away by the pleasure.

it only took a few pushes for könig to end up inside you, just as he had dreamed of so many nights.

after a few minutes, when you tried to see how the recording turned out, you noticed that your camera was not recording. you didn't give it any importance and you proposed to könig to record again, believing that it had been your forgetfulness.

if only you had realized that könig turned it off so he could fuck you as many times as necessary.

[wtfdemother]

The downside to König making you squirt is the fucking c l e a n u p after the nasty fucking.

Thankfully, the man tidies up with a smile on his face, a hum in his voice and his lips pressed to your sweaty temple.

You conk out to the soft rummaging of clean sheets and the laundry going, König joins you in bed and passes out shortly afterwards with his soft cock nestled snuggly inside you.

[1simpchunkygirl]

John just had to get a taste of his dessert (≧◡≦) 

18+ minors do not interact!

so you know that stupid tradition of the groom sticking his head under the bride's dress at the reception to pull the garter off? yeah that but every single one of the 141 would kiss your pussy while doing it.

johnny's full on making out with it over your underwear, leaving it sticking to you from a mixture of his spit and your arousal.

simon's got it pulled to the side so he can plant one directly on it and you can hear the deep rumble in his chest when you gasp in surprise.

kyle would place a kiss right over where your clit is under your underwear before running his tongue up the length of it.

and john would stuff his fingers in you while he gives your clit a harsh suck before letting go with an audible pop, comes out from under there with the garter in his teeth and licking his fingers.

[circe69]

"had to get it in, couldn't wait around!" - s.r. x reader

ʚɞ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ who is it? simon "ghost" riley x you

ʚɞ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ what is it? enemies always fuck better, right? you hate him, or so you thought...

ʚɞ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ cws: unprotected p in v, angry simon turned soft, huge d!ck, knife play kinda? ass play, heavy make out. word count: 2.4k

<3

"what the fuck was that about?"

you stomped into an empty, abandoned conference room and stood at the end of a long table, with one masked man sitting at the other end. your arms crossed themselves across your chest, and you popped a hip out to the side as you waited for his answer.

simon motherfucking riley was your arch nemesis. someone you didn't trust, never agreed with, and certainly never wanted to work with. but the world isn't fair. it keeps spinning even when you despise someone, and captain price couldn't care less about your feelings towards simon when it came to the thousands of lives you were saving every mission.

usually, if you're in a group, you don't dare speak to simon this way. you only nod your head at his commands and walk away, hoping that he's receiving the millions of telepathic "fuck you's" you put out somewhere into the universe. but now, you're alone, and there is no better time than the present to tell your lieutenant off.

"if you need to blow some steam, i suggest going for a few boxing rounds w' soap. he's always looking for-" he paused whatever ministrations he was writing on a file and looked up at you slowly, "an easy opponent."

you huff and smirk out of pure anger as you briskly round the table, making your way over to him. "I'm not here to fucking play around, lieutenant, I'm here to let you know I'm pissed because you gave everybody else an assignment overseas next month except for me." you paused and let his eyes meet yours as your strong volume turned into a whisper. "I've worked just as hard, if not fucking harder than the rest of these task force fuckers, and we both know I'd be a good shot out there."

when it comes to you giving your superior a piece of your mind, simon usually submits completely. he never fires back, to everyone else's surprise, and he always allows you to use him, so to speak, to yell at him and get everything out of your system before entering the world again.

but not today.

simon slowly stood up from his chair, keeping eye contact with you as he expanded to almost double your size in every factor possible.

the seconds felt like years as his eyes bore down into yours. your heart rate was doubling every time one of you blinked, and you had to tense every single muscle in your body just to remain stagnant in position. the silence was deafening, and as the seconds passed, you remembered everything you've seen this man do, every corpse he's thrown to the side like a piece of garbage in his way, every knife rusted and wasted because it's been buried deep in the jaw of his enemies, and the eyes that have seen all of this from the first person perspective, are staring right into your-

SLAM.

simons hand comes down onto the wooden table with the force of 10 men, it sounds like, and you couldn't do anything but jump. you flinch. you fucking flinch and it feels like you're waving a white flag.

His gloved fingers reach out to your chin and tug you by the jaw, forcing your face inches away from his, "I have fuckin' had it with your attitude. you can act like a bitch all you fucking want to price, to gaz, and I sure as fuck don't care about how you treat soap. but to me," he squeezes your chin to reinstate your obedience before drifting his hand to rest on your neck, "to me, you either respect me or don't say shit at all. so get used to swallowing your words around here from now on, cause there won't be anywhere else for them to fucking go but down your own throat."

coincidentally, you do swallow. hard and slow, and simons eyes watch and feel your neck bobbing as you begin to shake just slightly under his pressure. as he squeezes, a small squeak releases itself from your lips and you mentally kick yourself for it, knowing that's just what he wants. because once you let yourself go to the stormy waters that is simon riley, you'll never be the same again. he'll make sure of it.

"you say yes sir." his low voice whispered into the empty room, your face somewhere even closer than before, every minute that passes you move an inch. you still can't open your mouth, you're suffering from shell shock and there's no mercy to be found in the eyes of your shooter.

simon pulls out a blade from his thigh holster and presses it to your side, "say. it. now." he yells even louder. you feel the sharp sting of the metal start to break through the cotton of your shirt and tease your skin. a tear breaks free from your eyes, and you are completely gone. you're done for. absolutely dead in every sense but the physical.

"yes sir." you whisper, finally freeing yourself from some kind of paralysis. you feel the blade crash onto the table, as well as the sweet release of your neck from his hand. an extra wave of oxygen that you didn't know you were missing flowed though you in small gasps.

simon said nothing as he walked straight past you, out of the door, slamming it behind him. he left you, his knife, and a part of your soul, there in that room.

ʚɞ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

it had been a few days since simon had blown any ounce of relationship between the two of you into ash and dust, and you can't tell if the looks simon gives you now are filled with rage or just empty. empty meanings, empty promises, because he just doesn't care. but ever since he's made it clear with you that he is not to be messed with, you've unfortunately want him more.

simon riley is a fucking apex predator, and in the past, you've just been standing there, petting him, taunting him, and expecting nothing to happen. well now, you not only expect it, you fucking want it. you dream about all the things he could do to you. but all the things he hasn't said just prove that he couldn't care less.

that night, the only news channel your small tv offers called for rain, a lot of it, mixed with thunderstorms and lightning. as you dry your hair off with a towel, you walk to your window and look outside. your stomach churns at the sight of the angry clouds heading your way. you absolutely despise thunderstorms, and you prefer for a long night because there is no way you would be getting any sleep.

"fuck." you whisper to yourself as it starts to drizzle.

you try to ignore it as you kick off your slippers and get under your soft covers, pulling your duvet all the way up to your ears to try to mute the sound. it was now raining harder, and occasional sparks of electricity lit up your room from the sky, so you tossed and turn all night until you finally fell asleep.

it wasn't until hours later that a large boom of thunder shook you awake. you sat up immediately in a panic, gasping for air and looking around you as if you were expecting anything, something to explain the sound. tears started rolling down your face not only in fear, but in frustration also. you were so upset and so tired. you needed something, someone. just to tell you it was going to be okay. you slipped out of bed with a shaky hand clutching a necklace around your neck as you opened the door of your room and walked out.

the cold air of the hallway caused your skin to raise up into goosebumps and your nipples to pebble through your thin tank top, and even as you crossed your arms over yourself, it wasn't enough.

you headed straight for a door right down the hall. one with a name on the wood that you never thought you would go to in need in a million years. but you didn't know what to do.

your small knuckles rapped on the door, right underneath a nameplate.

simon "ghost" riley

you hear heavy footsteps and several locks unfastening before the door swings open.

a maskless man appears, with no shirt, and a large hand rubbing the side of his face. he was no doubt asleep before this. his eyes squinted as he leaned against the doorframe, trying to adjust to the light. your jaw hung slightly agape at the sight of him, so human. so disgustingly human who's done such non-humane things.

his eyes swept over your face as he noticed the tear stained cheeks, reddened from lack of sleep and continued down your body, down your full teardrop breasts, across your bare stomach, your sweatpants that hung loosely off your hips, and no words were spoken as he grabbed you by both forearms and drug you inside his room.

you gasped as he moved you backwards towards his bed, his much larger and comfier bed, and you no longer had any reason to stop him as he drug you under the covers with him. you couldn't believe him as he snuck in close to you, silently, as if it were normal.

it wasn’t until you felt an arm come up to rest upon your hip, and the floodgates opened. you couldn’t stop tears from rolling down your eyes. you were so confused, so scared, so fucking tired. small whimpers and gasps of breath continued.

“shhh.” came from simon’s mouth as he pulled you closer and softly squeezed your hip.

“you hate me” you whispered back, sobbing louder.

“hm-mm, no.”

“yes, you fucking hate me and you’ve just pulled me into your bed,” you start whining louder as your hands reach up to cover your face.

simon’s eyes slowly opened to look into yours before swatting your ass ,”quit crying n' go to sleep.”

you only responded with smaller, shorter intakes of breath and sniffles.

“y’hear me?” he patted your ass where he had slapped it before.

you nodded and whispered, “yes sir.”

a growl tore threw simon’s mouth as he looked up at the bedroom ceiling before throwing his forearm over his eyes, “fuckin’ hell.”

this time it’s you who reaches out, as you place a small palm on his bicep. he flinches at the touch before sighing,

“c’mere puppy.”

you slowly crawl on top of simon, placing both hands on his arms before allowing your head to fall between his neck and shoulder. a warmth slithered through you as you relaxed into him, and as his hand slowly caressed and squeezed the fat of your ass, the warmth exceeded just below your navel.

you made the mistake of squirming, and he noticed.

he clicked his tongue against his teeth while pulling you closer, “stay still.”

“i-i’m trying to get comfortable-"

"well stop." he interrupted, "just relax."

the wind outside howled, as simon's breath and yours intertwined through the space between you. and just like the storms outside, simon was the most unexpected thing to ever exist. he was trying hard to not scare you off, to be gentle, even though every thing in him contradicts that. but you know better. you know that he is gentle somewhere behind that mask.

you squirmed again, "simon I just don't know what to do." you leaned up to look at him. and there it was, the look that he only gave you, the small and desperate iris' just begging for some kind of affection. even without much light, you could still see him grasping at the frays for you. seconds of intense eye contact went by for simon broke the silence,

"just kiss m'then."

you gasped, sitting back a centimeter, but then nodded. and leaned into his touch. into him.

the kiss was soft and delicate, your lips and his just barely overlapping as you took in his woodsy smell, pine and maple, but that was all it took to pull a groan from simon.

more, more, is all he thought as he grabbed you by the hips and prodded his tongue against your lips. you smiled at the action, and without hesitation, opened up for him completely.

it was nothing but violent, raw, and urgent, the way simon kissed you. you moaned into his mouth as he smacked the fat of your ass, "all it took," he mumbled, "all it took was a little tongue for you to shut the fuck up."

you whined at the loss of contact as simon struggled to pull your pants down, but it disintegrated as he swiped a finger between your thighs, "fuck." simon whispered at the wetness pooling from your sex. "how many times have I yelled at you and gotten you wet?" he said, as he flipped you both around so you were now in your back, head smushing the soft pillow.

you groaned as he discarded his sweatpants and boxers, leaving his cock to spring out against his stomach. "how many times, baby?" he asked again, "you think about me hurting you when you play with this pretty pussy?" his index reached out to circle your clit a few times.

you couldn't help it, your body was betraying you in real time as your walls fluttered around nothing. "yes, yes I think about it, I think about you all the time simon." your babbles spilled out of you like water, and simon was lapping it up.

he chuckled, "don't even n'to prep you, you're a fuckin' faucet, sweetheart." his lengthy cock, with precut oozing out of the tip, was begging to be inside you, begging to fill you up. as he grabbed his length and positioned himself to your weeping hole, he looked you in the eyes, "y'want this?"

your eyes met his and for a second, you felt some sort of fire igniting deep within you, why was he even asking? why did it feel like the monster he is was softening for you?

you grabbed his hip and thrusted yourself, notching the tip of him inside your walls. "yes, I fucking want this, simon."

he chuckled as he watched him disappear inside you, inch by inch, every fucking centimeter felt like a year lived without you. he needed to make up for it, because the one woman that he couldn't stand just happened to be the woman he couldn't live without.

[codnasties]

Hi! not really a request because I see those are closed(ignore this is you'd like), but just some videos I'd like to share for Makarov :)

Being the cruel fucker he is <3

Making you grind on his thigh because he can't be bothered to touch you, says he'll let you cum if you listen, just to deny you anyway"

https://www.pornhub.com/view_video.php?viewkey=63fa0d52f198a

more of him lying and not letting you finish :(

https://www.pornhub.com/view_video.php?viewkey=63e39d5768d62

-🎩

god fucking bless i just had to use this one because it screams cruel fucker makarov...

grinding against makarov's thigh 🐺 (🌽 link)

makarov sometimes does things just because he finds them, in some twisted way, amusing. this man could be blowing up a whole building just because he felt like it. just pure evilness with a tad of egoism and selfishness mixed in.

and when it comes to you, that wild part of him turns into being mean. continuously teasing you, touching you in a sexual way only to then ignore you for hours on end - quite toxic if you ask me, but he's a fully fledged terrorist, so... or edge you and then leave you hanging for days, becasue you are not allowed to touch yourself without his permission.

mean fucking bastard he is when one day he decides he's not touching you but also not allowing you to touch him. he says he's being benevolent when he lets you have his thigh to get off. you ain't even getting skin, just the feeling of his pants.

allowing you oh so graciously to grind your needy wet cunt against the coarse material of his dark coloured slacks. chasing some relief as if you were a mutt in heat, humping the first thing you come across for some releaf. but that does not mean he will let you cum. he for sure will he pulling his leg away from your reach when you are close.

good luck coping with an accumulation of pent up orgasms

[cheeseatlantic]

i want his ass

MDNI!! (photo creds to @ave661)

OVERDRIVE

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Fem reader

The night is still electric, the lingering scent of fuel and asphalt mixing with the crisp air. Your body hums with adrenaline, muscles tight from gripping him too hard during the ride, thighs still buzzing from where they pressed against the sleek body of the motorcycle. Ghost killed the engine minutes ago, but the rush hasn’t faded—not from him, not from you.

And judging by the way he’s looking at you now? It won’t.

He’s still breathing hard, chest rising and falling beneath his leather jacket, but it’s not from the ride. It’s from you. From the way you’ve been teasing him all night, pressing too close, whispering filth in his ear through the helmet, running your hands over his thighs while he was going over a hundred miles an hour.

“You think that shit was funny?” His voice is low, dark, dangerous—the kind that makes you shiver. “Tryna get me to crash?”

You smirk, biting your lip as you lean back against the bike, feigning innocence. “Didn’t crash though, did you?”

His eyes darken, and suddenly he’s on you, all heat and power, pressing you against the still-warm metal. His gloved hand wraps around your throat, fingers firm but teasing, his breath hot against your lips.

“You got a real fuckin’ mouth on you,” he mutters, voice thick with restraint. “You like testing me, don’t you?”

The answer is obvious, but you don’t get a chance to say it—his lips crash into yours, raw and demanding, teeth scraping, tongue forcing its way inside like he owns it. He does own it. Owns you, if you’re being honest with yourself.

You moan against him, and he swallows the sound, pressing in harder, caging you in like you’re not going anywhere. His free hand yanks at your jacket, peeling it off with a rough tug, and it hits the pavement like it means nothing to him.

“Keep pushin’ me,” he breathes against your mouth. “See what happens.”

Your stomach flips at the promise in his voice, but you don’t even get the chance to push him further—he’s already losing patience. Already done pretending he has an ounce of self-control.

He spins you around, forcing your chest against the bike, the cold metal biting through your thin shirt. His hands waste no time—one pressing firm against your back, keeping you in place, the other yanking at your waistband.

“Simon—”

“You knew what you were doin’,” he growls. “Whole ride, grindin’ against me, actin’ all fuckin’ innocent—”

You gasp as he drags his hand between your thighs, teasing, barely giving you what you need.

“—like I wouldn’t pull over and ruin you.”

You whimper, arching back against him, but he doesn’t let up. His grip on you is iron, his breathing ragged as he keeps you pinned right where he wants you. He presses against you, lets you feel how hard he is, how much restraint it’s taking for him not to just take what he wants.

“You gonna beg for it?” he murmurs, lips brushing your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. “Or you gonna keep runnin’ that mouth?”

Your head is spinning, heart pounding, thighs clenching around nothing because fuck, you want him so bad it hurts.

“Please,” you whisper, barely more than a breath.

Ghost exhales sharply, a dark chuckle vibrating in his chest. “That’s more like it.”

He doesn’t make you wait any longer.

His hands are rough, demanding, yanking down your clothes just enough to give him access, fingers teasing through the slick mess he caused. His breath stutters against your neck when he feels how ready you are for him, and his fingers tighten against your hip.

“Fuck,” he mutters. “Knew you liked it rough, slut.”

Then he’s pressing inside, slow at first just to make you feel it, just to let you adjust to the way he stretches you open. A strangled moan leaves your lips, fingers gripping the bike for balance, and he groans at the way you squeeze around him.

“So fuckin’ tight—” His voice is already breaking, but he doesn’t stop. Doesn’t slow down.

Ghost moves like he drives—fast, reckless, skilled. He fucks into you with deep, brutal strokes, pressing you down against the bike, making sure you take every inch. His hands grip your hips so hard you know you’ll bruise, but you don’t care. Not when it feels like this. Not when he’s making you see fucking stars.

“Keep makin’ those pretty lil’ noises, yeah?” he pants against your neck, voice wrecked. “Love hearin’ how fuckin’ desperate you are for me.”

You whine, and his hand slides back up your throat, tilting your chin so he can kiss you—messy, sloppy, needy.

“You take me so fuckin’ well,” he groans, thrusts growing erratic. “Like you were made for me.”

You are. You know you are.

The coil in your stomach tightens, pleasure mounting so fast it makes your head spin. He feels it—feels the way your body clenches around him, the way you’re barely holding on.

“C’mon, love,” he rasps. “Come for me. Be a good girl ‘f me.”

And fuck, you do. You fall apart around him, body shuddering, fingers gripping onto whatever you can as you break. He curses, voice rough, movements turning messy as he chases his own release.

Then—fuck. He buries himself deep, hips stuttering, a strangled groan leaving his lips as he comes undone.

The world slows. The air is thick with heat and the scent of sweat and sex. Ghost leans against you for a second, chest rising and falling, hands still gripping your waist like he’s afraid to let go.

Then he chuckles, low and breathless, lips brushing your ear.

“Still think you can handle the speed, dove?”

get his ass in jail for reckless driving smh.

[cowboybeanbowll]

whipped!simonrileyx!reader

mdni!!!

simon riley was a mean man. he was rough around the edges and blunt, not giving a second thought about hurting someone’s feelings. that was until he met you.

you were his angel who made up for all the wrong in the world. you were perfect in his eyes. so pretty and sweet and it was all for him? he could die happily right then and there. anything you ever needed he would do in an instant.

something broken or need done around the house? it’s fixed before you can even complain. pretty girls shouldn’t have to worry their heads about such silly things.

need help carrying in groceries? simons got it, smacking at your ass to scold you when you even think about carrying a single bag.

bad day at work? don’t worry, he’s got you. he cooks your favorite meal, making sure your belly is full before he stuffs you with his thick cock. no such thing as a bad day when simon is around.

this man loves you more than anything and makes sure you know it.

[simonsrileyhusband]

simon, ftm!reader, and johnny poly relationship maybe?

simon and johnny are the best boyfriends, so caring and loving.

they will make sure you wear your binder only 8 hours, and if they get you to take it off before better.

when you feel dysphoria they aproach on diferent ways. simon is quiet, he puts one of his giant hoodies on you and hugs you, rubbing your arms and back or playing with your hair. and johnny will kiss your cheeks, saying how handsome you are, hoe lucky they are to have you as their boyfriend.

after you get top surgery they are so delicate with you. helping with anything and everything. cuddling and showering you with love.

and when you are fully healed they cant get enough of seeing you shirtless. rubbing your scars or simply laying on your chest.

nsfw:

simon is dominant, he will order you and johnny around. barking orders and praises here and there.

they tend to be rough. wrestling around, pinning you down, biting and panting.

but they can also be very sweet, kissing your cheek and licking your neck. whispering on your ear what a good boy you are, taking both of them so well.

jhonny loves when you ride him, and he loves it even more when you are using him. bouncing for your own satisfaction.

simon is more of a doggy guy, he likes to push you down, grab you by the hair and lift your face, spank you, things like that. he says its to 'rough you up'.

[thatoneautisticshark]

Price had first seen Simon's vulnerability back when he was only a sergeant and Price was a lieutenant. They had been working together a good month, getting along well, and fairly in sync in the field.

So Price wasn't expecting post mission to find Simon on the ground of the locker room, back pressed against the wall, sobbing and tugging his hair out.

Naturally he panicked a little trying to work out what was wrong with his sergeant, crouching down, looking him over for injuries. He knew Simon hadn't been injured but he couldn't think of anything else to help.

Once he calmed down a little he grabbed Simon's hands, tugging them down. “No no no. Don't do that Simon”The younger man remained sobbing but kept his hands still in Price's hands.

Price gently held them, trying to calm his sergeant down. “Come on, can you stand up for me please?”

When Simon followed the order with no arguments, sobbing even dying down, was when they discovered that touch and gentle orders helped.

It quickly became routine, post mission cuddling, giving occasional soft orders. And that slowly spiralled and changed, leading to the current routine.

Price sat back in his seat in the heli, eyes scanning his team. Gaz was sitting on the floor, next to soap, who was trying to teach him a hand clap game. And failing.

It seemed despite being an amazing soldier, Gaz struggled with children's games.

Price let his gaze wander to Simon who was rigid as he always was post mission. Price could see he was digging his nails into his thigh, and gnawing the inside of his cheek.

Price winced, knowing he couldn't help until they were back at base in private. And it was killing him. Simon so clearly needed the stress relief.

“Lieutenant? Can I see you in my quarters after landing?”

Simon nodded “Yes sir.”

Soap grinned. “Ooooohhh is Ghost in trouble?” He chanted in a sing-song voice “What'd he dooo?"

Price gently whacked the sergeant on his head. “No he isn't in trouble, Mactavish. I just need to discuss something with him. If he really wanted to immediately rest he could have denied the request and he knows that”

Simon quietly nodded, confirming the Captain's statements.

Soap dramatically flopped back into gaz's lap, with a groan “Boringggg!”

As the Heli landed, the two younger sergeants practically bounded out. Price stood up, stretching before glancing at the other. “Coming?”

In no time at all they were back in Price's warm comfortable room. Simon stepped forward, burying his face in Price's neck, arm wrapping around his waist. Price huffed a laugh, hugging him back, rubbing a firm hand up and down his back. “That's It, love, relax. There we go, Simon.”

Once they had been standing in the centre of the room for a good ten minutes, price sighed. “Luv, do you want to relax and just cuddle, or do it?” Silence “I need an answer Si, kinda changes whether we go to the couch or bed”

Again, not an answer, Simon just pressed his face further into the crook of his captains neck, rubbing his balaclava slightly against the scruffy beard. Price gently pulled him towards the couch.

“Executive decision, we are doing this. Say if you want to stop okay?” With the burden of making the choice taken off him, Simon relaxed slightly more, nodding.

Price grabbed a cushion, throwing in on the floor, before gently pushing Simon onto his knees on it. He then sat on the couch right in front of his lieutenant, who wasted no time leaning forward, resting his head against the others pants.

Upon his mask being edged up slightly he nodded letting the captain pull it fully off with a whispers praise of “Good boy. That's it, just relax, I got you.”

The older chucked the mask aside, holding Simon's face as if he were precious. His thumb stroking the others cheek. “Such a pretty boy aren't you, one your knees for a nasty buggar like me”

Simons face made it clear he wanted to argue, but was already to far in to form coherent words. He hummed, shaking his head against the fabric of Price's cargos.

Price ran a hand through the blond almost white locs. “Shh darling, don't think. I'm doing all that, just relax” he murmured as Simon pressed his up up against the hand in his hair, much like a needy cat.

Simon, looking up at him though his lashes, eyes glassy and far away. Hair tussled and drool leaking from his mouth always managed to do it for price, making his dick chub up.

The absolute trust the standoffish man had in him, to dip this far into an out of his state. Trusting him to gently take him apart, piecing him back together with no harm.

Price wiped some spit dribbling down Simons chin up, before slowly pushing his thumb past Simons lips, watching as Simon took it, letting it sit in his mouth with a pleased hum.

He knew Simon had an oral fixation, he usually had something in his mouth, gum pens, his own fingernails. The way Simon totally relaxed when he had Price's fingers - Or dick - in his mouth, never failed to amaze the captain.

Simon was absently sucking the finger in his mouth with soft groans, teeth on it, not really chewing but holding.

And god he looked so pretty, flushed and pink like this.

Price groaned, his prick pressing harshly against his slacks, so hard it hurt.

“Mm yeah, just like that good boy”He breathed as he fumbled the zip of his pants open. “Such a good, pretty boy.”

He finally pulled his dick out, tip flushed angry red from the neglect.

His eyes stayed on Simon's face, as he let the finger fall from his mouth. Price stroked himself a few times “Yeah you want this? Don't you lad? You want this big cock down your throat”

Simon nodded, whining desperately trying to put together enough words to beg. “I.. please….I.”

But Price gently shushed him. “Shh, not going to let my baby boy go without. Just relax Lovie. Don't beg love, don't think, just be a good boy yeah?”

Simon nodded, whining again. Eyes still shining with unshed tears, as Price stroked his hair.

Price placed his dick on the waiting lips and tongue, giving a punched out moan as Simon immediately began sucking and licking.

The elder threaded his hands back into his hair, guiding the head on his cock, with praises mixed in with moans “Ah yes.. fuck like that Simon. Such a good boy. Your mouth was just made for this. Like that darling”

With how pent up he was, it didn't take price long to come undone, and Simon swallowed every drop.

When he tried to pull his dick back, he was met with a whine, prompting a chuckle. “You just wanna sit with it for a minute lad? You and your fixation.” He teased, placing his softening dick back in the warm heat of Simons mouth, feeling him hum contentedly as he rested his head back on the plush thigh.

Not to sound beggy, but you guys realise you can send asks? Pleaseee I really want more ideas, I'm not that creative to have infinite ideasss

[annoyance-for-u]

I want the same ☹️

John Price who definitely sees your job as a cute little hobby to occupy your time when he’s away.

He loves hearing you go on and on when you really enjoy it while he’s away. Not so much when he’s home and it’s stressing you out and it’s taking away from his ability to fuck you because of how exhausted you are. So, he does the thing that only makes sense.

He’s calling your office and threatening them by using his job title to get you fired.

A wicked, wicked, wicked man. But he needed you comfortable, you deserved happiness. Not to be stressed out from a job you didn’t need in the first place.

Worst part about it?

He loved to fuck you so you could feel better after being fired. You’d come home, tears pricking your eyes after you slammed the front door shut. And there John would be right there, rushing towards you with the at most concern on his face, asking what’s wrong. He knew what was wrong.

“This is the 4rth time John! I-“ your breath hitched, tears rolling down your adorable cheeks. Poor baby.

“I must be fuckin awful! Everyone- everyone hates me!”

“No, no sweetheart!” He’d coo, cupping your face and kissing your tears away. “Yer good at what ya do, they jus’ hate havin such a hard workin woman ‘round.”

You’re rubbing your face and hiccuping, “Y-you think I’m good John?”

“Of course lovie, you’d be wrong tuh think otherwise.”

You’d sniff, looking up at John with those big brown puppy eyes. “Show me.”

His sweet girl needed him, and after his Oscar winning performance he’d give her the best show she could ever ask for. He’s eating you out right in the foyer, then bending you over on the hardwood floor and slamming you fat veiny, dick into you tight walls like there was no tomorrow.

“Aaaatta girl. Always take me so well.”

“Worked so hard honey, Daddy’s gotta show you how good ya are, hm?”

“Gonna cum? Show me how pretty you can make my cock lovie. Always so. Fuckin. Pretty.”

Captain Price loved his little wife. He’d give you anything if you asked for it.

Except let you keep a job.

Anything but that.

a/n: The only version of toxic Price I can handle 😭

[bluedrizzle82]

Naughty neighbors

Pt 2

Simon stares at you, his eyes admiring your body, he didn’t understand how your husband could leave you the way he does. You’re a beautiful woman, with an intelligent mind and a great sense of humor. “Good morning… let’s have breakfast together I don’t want to eat alone.” Simon lets you in but after closing the door he pulls you into him “how long are we going to keep this up before giving in? I know you want me just as much as I want you”

You feel his chest on your back as he breathes in your scent and pulling you in closer by your hips. Goosebumps erupt on your skin and you subconsciously rest your head on his shoulders “Simon.. you know we can’t.. I-I’m married…” he kissed your neck softly “Your body isn’t telling me to stop… why don’t you let me show you why you married the wrong man” in a swift motion your dress drops to the floor and you only realize once the cold air hits your body. You look down and your breast are on full display making you flustered. Simon gently grabs your breast and pinches your nipples “look at this already topless for me you know you wanted this..” he start sucking on your neck leaving marks all over and turns you around taking a nipple in his mouth. You toss your head back and run your fingers through his hair.

Suddenly he picks you up tossing you over his shoulder and walks upstairs. “If we’re going to do this we’ll do it the right way..” he takes you to his room and sets you on his bed climbing on top of you. You stare up at him still nervous and your heart racing. You had saved yourself for marriage so the only person to touch you was yourself mostly because your husband barely did he only cared about his own pleasure. All he ever did was suck your breast too hard or rub your labia as if he didn’t know what the clit was “Wait…” you stop him as he was kissing down your chest and you prop up on your elbows “I’ve never done this before…”

This hit Simon hard, not only were you a beautiful kind and smart woman but you were a virgin. “Okay well then i guess we’ll have to take it slowly let’s make you feel good today…” despite his cock throbbing in his pants he knew you were probably scared and he wanted you to experience pleasure comfortably. “Are you okay with that?” You nod and relax as much you can. When he pulls off your panties they have a wet spot due to your arousal and Simon smirks “i barely touched you and you’re so wet love.. look at this pretty pussy..” he spreads your pussy open gently and blows air into it making you flinch. “Relax love…” he takes a nice long lick from your pussy to your clit and swirls his tongue around it gently.

You let out a soft moan and you buck your hips into his face desperate for more “Simon… pl-please…” you rest your legs on his shoulders and gently grip his hair. Simon latches onto your clit and drags his tongue from the clit to the hood of your clit repeatedly. He pulls away slightly but you pull him back in “don’t stop please…” with a smirk he continues sucking and licking your clit while you’re relaxed he pushes a finger into you. You hiss at the sting but it fades quickly as his tongue keeps up the pace. You clench around his finger and he knew the day he fucks you will be the day he fills you up because it’s going to be hard pulling out this pretty cunt.

You feel his finger brush against something that makes you arch your back. “Simon!..” you scream and he pushed in another finger this time it hurt a bit more because of the stretch but you slowly relaxed. He starts fingering your sweet cunt and keeps slobbering all over your pretty swollen clit. Simon knew you were so close to cumming and he is determined to make you squirt on his face.

“Simon!…” that was all you could get out before you were gushing all over his face and bucking your hips. You were riding out your orgasm and gripping his hair tightly “shit…. don’t stop please!..” Simon was drowning in your cum but he loved it and drank it all up. As your pussy became sensitive you tried to push him away but he pushed your hands away and gripped your thighs. He continues to eat your pussy “you said not to stop..” he mumbles into your cunt and you whimper softly.

You cum for a second time and this time you push his head away “please Simon… I can’t oh fuck” you lift your head and look up at him. You can feel him abusing your sensitive clit and slurping up all your arousal. He finally pulls away but gives you one last lick. You stare into his eyes “your cunt taste so good love I could eat her all day…”

[konigofmyheart]

I heard you might be in need of an insertion specialist. I am at your service.

other version

[bone-trash]

I’m a simple man. When one usually less than vocal man tells his beloved yapper that his mouth is fucking made for sucking cock, I appreciate it. I’m a fan.

[bluepandastarfish]

Whhhhaaaatttttt

MDNI

Warnings: Accusation of Infedelity, heavily unedited writing (wrote this in a power outage in my notes app xx), fingering, eating pussy, dirty talk, dumbification if you squint REALLY hard.

One message is all it took for you to spiral.

Outrage was an understatement. A month, a single month, into Price’s deployment you had recieved a message from an unknown number. They insisted of Price having an affair with his so-called ‘receptionist.’ Being his wife, you didnt believe it. You and John had been married for years now. He wasnt that kind of man! (You hoped.)

Weeks passed and wheels start turning. Seeds of doubt had started digging into you. The late nights he had stayed at base before his deployment, only sending as much as a quick text of ‘Be home late. Dont wait up.’ Or the necessary secrecy between what happens at his job or deployment were starting to plant ideas in your head you wouldnt have ever had if not for that message. Youre being worn down, and its killing you. Its not like you could ask him; being thousands of kilometres away without any time to do as much as glance at his phone.

So the emotional resentment grew. You find yourself wondering how he could do this to you, crying in your empty home that housed the both of you not long ago. Before you even come to terms with it, Youve packed your bags and lawyered up, letting your resentment fester for far to long without any outside input.

On the third month of Prices deployment, you drive yourself up to base with one intention; leave the divorce papers on his desk to find when he comes back and to leave without confrontation.

Security on base knows you as ‘Price’s missus’ by now, offering a small wave and a smile as you walk by and into your husbands office. You put the papers on his desk, that frustration and hurt bubbling up all over again. He has your wedding photo framed on his desk and it only hurts more. What did you do to deserve this?

You turn to go, heading back towards his door when you hear muffled laughter and the sounds of gear being unzipped and dumped from down the hallway. Theyre back. You pick up the pace, praying you can slip out before he gets close enough to notice. You reach for the door handle, but the door opens before you can even grasp it.

Shit.

And there he is, your eyes drinking in the sight of the awfully more rugged version of your husband; beard outgrown and messy with tired eyes that light up at the sight of you.

That light dies as soon as sees just how mad you look.

“So youre telling me, one message is all it took to lose all fucking faith?” Price practically growls, fingers rubbing at his temples. Hes sat in his chair with you on the other side of his desk, just as furious. “Everything makes sense! The staying late at base, the short messages and lack of updates when your deployed!” You hiss, frustration bubbling over making anything small seem huge.

Price takes a deep breath, a futile attempt to calm his temper. “The shit I deal with doesnt sleep. Theres reasons i stay back that you will never know, love. The law itself, wont let me tell you. Same goes for messages. Im sorry i dont have the time to let you know im okay when im deployed, god knows i wish I did.” He scowls, his gaze so heated and intense that you almost look away despite your own fury.

“And what about this receptionist huh?”

Your tone has changed, soft and shaky. vunerable.

Price’s expression softens, but he doesnt say a word, simply rounding his desk to pluck you out of your own chair and putting you down in his office chair. He sinks to his knees in front of you, hands rested on your thighs. Blue eyes peer up at you, sickeningly sincere. “Love, I dont interact with her unless necessary. This isnt some romance movie bullshit.” Your heart is working overtime, lips parted as guilt bubbles. “You- you understand where my doubt is coming from, though…right? Everything lined up perfectly, and-“

Price simply tuts. “We’ve talked about that pretty little head of yours overthinking too much, havent we?” You freeze, throat drying. You nod. “Answer me, sweetheart.”

“Yes-“ you croak. “We have.”

Price grunts in approval, his hands now running up and down your thighs.

“Have you been feeling neglected, hm? Is that it? My sweet wife needs some attention?” Price rumbles, his large, calloused hands that have been marked by countless battles now playing with the hem of your skirt.

“You’ve got my attention now, luvie. No need to play these stupid games with me.”

Your mind is already growing hazy; your husbands words making you almost want to forget about this whole incident. A finger hooks onto the waistband of your panties, bringing you back to the moment.

“Stupid games? John i was prepared to divorce you-“ he shushes you, dragging your underwear down your thighs, then your calves and over your shoes before slipping them into his pocket. A cheeky smile graces his face. stupid muttonchops.

“Must’ve left you alone for far too long then, if you were willing to take it this far.”

He slings your legs over his impossibly large shoulders, making you squeak as your pulled forward on the chair.

“Wouldve come home and fucked those stupid thoughts straight out of your head if i had known you were having doubts about my loyalty, sweetheart.”

He presses a messy kiss to your clit, making you gasp. He grumbles something incoherent (“Me? Cheat? Silly girl.”), before licking a long stripe up your neglected cunt, causing your hips to buck. The taste of you after going months without has price groaning into your heat. He eats like a man starved, a mix of desire to prove his loyalty and that he finally gets to taste his wife after being away for so long.

Hes fuming, really. Toward you? No.

Towards whatever stupid bastard sent you that message. He’s glad you didnt notice him slip your phone in his pocket, because he knew you’d be against him hunting the fucker down. You just need a distraction to keep that pretty little head thinking too hard. And he’ll give you just that.

“Oh, my poor sweet wife…” He grunts, before sucking on your clit with a renewed fevor. He pulls off with a lewd pop, two thick fingers replacing his previous ministrations. You’re squirming in his office chair, mind hazy and hips bucking.

“Thinkin’ I was out here cheating on ya’… you know better, love.” He tuts.

His fingers curl so nicely into that spongey spot that makes you see stars. “M sorry-“ you’d slur, “I didnt believe it when I first saw the message I promise-“ you gasp as price presses his thumb against your clit, rubbing in small tight circles.

“Lovie, you stormed in here with divorce papers. Dont tell me you didn’t believe it.”

Your head tilts back as you pant, small gasps slipping past your lips.

“There we go.” Price coaxes, his fingers picking up their pace.

“Wouldnt even cross my mind to look at another woman when my gorgeous girl looks like that as I stuff her cunt full of my fingers.” He coos, watching your face intently as your release crashes down; intense enough to make you writhe and moan.

Price pulls his fingers from you, licking them clean before getting up off his knees. Your throat runs dry, bracing for whats to come even as you grapple your bearings. You’re mentally preparing for Price to be dissapointed, upset with you, maybe even mad.

He analyzes your expression, leaning back against his desk. His eyes scrape over your small form sat in his chair.

“Im not upset, love. That pretty little head of yours had months to overthink that message without a voice of reason.”

Price tilts your chin up.

“Lets just not have to do this again, hm? Then i’ll be mad.”

Its sounds like a threat, but it isnt. Price knows he’ll always be there to talk his beloved wife down from the edge.