#but simon? he's just pure silly

[thermodynamic-comedian]

i can understand being a jonah magnus hater. i can understand being a peter lukas hater. but if you hate simon fairchild, i do not understand you. not one bit. you are a liar of some kind, surely

[trainwrecksys]

He’s so me

[starsofang]

Simon didn’t like to hold you. He liked to be held.

At first, you didn’t understand why he’d turn his back to you in bed without saying anything. You thought you’d done something to him, or maybe he was in a bad mood. You couldn’t be any more wrong.

Simon Riley, an absolute brute of a soldier, was silently asking for you to be the big spoon. You nearly didn’t believe it when he finally brought it to your attention.

He was too embarrassed to ask you, so he’d resort to flipping on to his side and wait. And wait. Until he realized you didn’t catch the memo, even after many hopeless attempts.

In his mind, he thought being the big spoon would somehow convince you he wasn’t manly enough, as if his title in the service or his pure stature wasn’t proof enough of his masculinity.

To him, being held was a blanket of security. Where he’d always have to watch his back out on the field, both literally and metaphorically, he didn’t have to keep an eye out at all times with you. It was a chance for him to find solace in a person, and when he explained this to you, he was surprised to find you so willing.

And oh, when it happened, Simon nearly kicked himself for holding back on verbalizing it for so long.

The warmth of your arms when they wrapped around him from behind, your face buried between his shoulder blades, legs tangled in his, he thought that this was what inner peace felt like.

He was silly to think you’d ever be the one to judge him for what most deemed ‘unmasculine’. In all of his broad glory, he felt safe the moment you held him, like a child does when they feel a mother’s embrace except it was from someone he loved dearest to his heart.

And you? You found that being the big spoon was rather enjoyable when the man you’re holding was so damn comfortable to snuggle up to. It was a win-win for you both.

You just wished he wasn’t an idiot that left you wondering all those hopeless nights until the truth came out.

[sweet-as-an-angel]

MW2 Reaction To You Being Their Controversially Young Girlfriend

Warnings: Implied Smut, Legal Age Gap, Age Gap Relationships, Daddy Kink, Older Man/Younger Woman, Older Woman/Younger Woman, Possessive MW2, Degradation, Mention of Corruption, Mentions of Innocence, Mentions of Naivety, Praise Kink (M Giving), Implied Choking Kink, Angry Sex, Groping, Brat Taming, Man Handling/Woman Handling, Dumbification Kink, Gentle MW2, Rough MW2, Self-Consciousness, Mentions of Blood/Injury, Insecurity, Profanity, Pet Names, Fem Pronouns Used For Reader.

Ghost

Pretends he doesn’t care about the age gap, but he secretly does.

You’d never know it, but he worries that he’s roping you into a relationship – a long-term one at that – when you should be out, meeting guys, gaining life experience.

He also fears that, in some way, he’s corrupting you, that his selfish desire to keep you close to him will lead to you being targeted or you eventually resenting him.

It doesn’t matter how many times you tell him otherwise, he’s still going to worry about you.

There are a few ways you can put his mind at ease, though. Namely of the bedroom variety.

More on this later 👀.

He spoils you silly, absolutely rotten. Anything that catches that pretty little eye of yours and he’s already got it gift wrapped. He feels it’s the least he can do after you’ve shown  him that life isn’t just an endless cycle of suffering – an infinitum of anguish – that he does deserve happiness and a chance at love.

Very gentle during sex. Unless you ask him not to be.

Expect a lot of praise in bed.

Many a night have you found yourself pinned under Simon, his mouth to your ear as he pants, moaning, telling you how you’re “Such a good girl, taking me so well,” while he fills you with long, languid strokes.

Other times, he’s not so gentle.

Oftentimes, usually as a result of purposefully making Ghost jealous, have you been pinned against a hard surface – one of convenience rather than comfort – with Simon at your back, the tent in his pants catching you.

His voice is deep, husking and carnal as he reminds you who you belong to.

“Like having your pretty little cunt ravaged by an older man, don’t you, Love.”

He’s very protective of you.

He sometimes construes your young age as innocence, naivete. Hence, he never lets you out of his sight when you’re out together.

Scary dog privileges.

Absolutely feral, down bad for you: you only have to do or say the most minimal of things to make him melt, to become a slave to his adoration for you.

That being said, he’s paranoid that one day you’ll see him as he views himself and leave him for someone better – someone you deserve. Someone younger.

He’s damaged goods, you still have your whole life to live. And yet you stay with him, promise him that he’s the only man you’ll ever love.

As stated earlier, Simon can be persuaded of your dedication to him via special, particular means.

However, if you play into his insecurities, even to get a rise out of him, he’ll pounce on you, grab your wrists and pin you to a wall, gripping your jaw and forcing you to look at him.

And, beneath dark lashes and darker eyes, he makes a promise to you.

“Oh, you think a younger lover can pleasure you like I can?” he says, his head tilting. “Don’t you worry, Darling. I’ll fuck that idea outta that pretty little head of yours until the only thing rattling around in there is me.”

König

Somewhat insecure in your relationship. Especially when he gets disapproving glances and glares from passers-by when they note the very obvious age difference between the two of you.

But, his love for you can overcome any measure of anguish, social or otherwise.

He’s the gentlest giant you could ever hope to meet, both in and out of bed.

When he feels like it.

He treats you like you’re innocent and pure, shielding your eyes from graphic scenes on TV and gruesome stories in the newspaper.

Sometimes he has to remind himself that you’re a fully-grown woman, even if you are younger than him.

You send him absolutely feral whenever you wear his clothes btw.

Seeing as any one of his shirts could be your nightdress, he calls you his “Minnie Maus”, and treats you as such.

Pls sit on his lap, he’ll only be able to die happy once you do.

He fears judgement from others whenever you enact PDA, so to make up for his lack of willing to be physical with you in public, there isn’t a moment where you’re without him at home.

Extended periods of time in your presence tend to send him a bit…funny.

A little bit silly.

And by silly, I mean there’s a single thread of humanity keeping him from tearing your clothes off at any given second.

Especially if he’s seen a younger guy looking at you earlier in the day.

One of the few times he’ll get physical with you in public is whenever he catches someone looking at you with a glaze over their eyes he knows all too well.

He approaches you from behind, slipping a pythonic arm about your waist and pulling you into him.

Only now does your admirer look away, leave the premises entirely, once they catch sight of König’s gargantuan proportions and the rabid look in his eye.

Once you get home, he’s on you before you can even shut the door.

It’s times like these that König doesn’t feel insecure about the age gap between you.

Because he knows, no matter how little you’re willing to admit it, that nobody will ever be able to make you scream and cry and tremble like he can.

“Did you like that boy’s attention earlier, Maus?” he says, his eyes cattish and voice serpentine. He bears down on you, his hand about your throat as the other travels under your skirt.

“Is my love not enough? Are my affections wasted on you?”

His eyes glint in the dim light of the bedroom. His teeth look sharper – primal – in the low glow of the bedside lamp.

“No matter. I’ll make you remember how much you need me,” he presses into you. The bulge between his legs feels far too big for you to take.

“Inch by bloody inch.”

Valeria

You’re her little Angel, her Goddess, the light of her life and her reason for living.

That does not exempt you from her teasing, however.

Sexual or otherwise.

She’s particularly fond of randomly grabbing your backside when she’s walking past, or smacking it so hard that you yelp and she’s grinning from ear to ear.

Even if you use your puppy-dog eyes on her, disobedience is not accepted under her roof.

In fact, trying to wriggle out of any punishment she has planned is enough to make her grab you and pin you to a wall, her grip unrelenting as she sucks and bites your neck, leaving harsh red marks and a sense of helplessness as she does what she pleases with you.

“Don’t go fucking around behind my back again, Chiquita,” she tells you, her nose touching yours and her eyes black. She brings her knee between your legs, pressing into you.

“Or next time I won’t just stop at your throat.”

She loves dressing you up in the finest clothing money (and a ghastly reputation) can buy.

She thrives on having you hanging off her arm like a dog on a leash; she gets to show you off to her subordinates and business partners who know they’ll never even have the thought of having a chance with you entertained.

Valeria’s mood can fluctuate in bed.

Sometimes, she treats you like a common whore she found on the street, fucking every ounce of rage, hate and venom into you until some part of you’s left bleeding as Valeria’s panting on top of you, her lips to your cheeks as she kisses your tears away with a whiplash-inducing gentleness she seemed incapable of minutes ago.

Most of the time, she’s loving and kind, putting your needs above her own.

Sure, she still teases you, makes you work for her love and dedication, but you know she’d do anything for you.

You can tell in her tone as she tells you of how she would “Scorch the earth if only to find a fragment of you in the wreckage.”

You disappearing or being taken from her is her biggest fear, and at night she holds you tightly against her chest, your buffer against the world she would sooner see in flames than relinquish you to.

Price

He’s so father-coded fr.

He calls you his little girl, his Princess, Love, Darling, Dollie — anything that highlights your fragile nature.

Shows you off to his friends just so he can show them what they’re missing. He adores the feeling of you curling further into him under the eyes of his task force, the look in their eyes relating something savage, primal, as they look at your bare thighs – the pinnacle of which shadowed by John’s shirt – and watch something they can never have, never touch.

John hides his insecurity well, but he does secretly worry about the age gap.

Especially when he watches younger men looking at you in ways he does.

The difference being that, while they offered you the world and would give you nothing, you are John’s world.

When you can tell John’s feeling worried, comforting him is a surprisingly easy task.

A kiss to the temple and the promise that he’s the only man for you is usually enough to put his mind at ease and make his face break out into a smile.

On the rare occasion it isn’t, however, alternative methods are at your disposal.

E.g. screaming John’s name into the night as your nails drag down the expanse of his back, bodies scorching as he brings you to tears with his touch and his unrelenting pace.

He will absolutely hold his rank/age over you when he’s like this, no longer a point of contention or shame for him as he tells you he’s the “Only one who can make you whimper like a fuckin’ dog,”

“Such a good girl for me, my good little cocksleeve,” he rasps in your ear as he bounces you on top of him, his hands about your waist, preventing you from fleeing or falling off.

“God, you’re so beautiful — so— fuck— gorgeous.” He’s panting, gasping, growling.

“And all mine.”

Horangi

You’re the only thing that matters to him.

At this point, he only remains as a military contractor to ensure that he can keep you in the style to which you are accustomed.

Calls you 자기야 (Jagiya – Honey, Darling).

His favourite thing to do is sit you between his legs and wrap around you like armour.

In case you couldn’t tell, he’s highly protective of you.

You can make him do absolutely anything — he’s at your beck and call.

You can get him to buy you anything if you give him what he likes to call ‘kitten eyes’ eyes.

Even if you’re being a brat, he remains calm and treats you like his little angel, his sweetpea.

Unless you push him too far.

At which point, he won’t hesitate to tame you if you try your luck.

He’ll have you bent over his lap, holding you down with his forearm as he turns your thighs and backside red-raw with the slap of his belt.

“Don’t start crying now, 자기 — you brought this on yourself.”

He never fails in the aftercare department, though.

Always filling your head with words of affirmation as he bathes you, carrying you to bed and tending to your skin with soothing creams and soft touches.

Hong-jin goes super feral crazy when you call him 오빠.

A common honorific used towards any man older than the person using it.

Even if you don’t understand the implications of it, Hong-jin does. And yes, it does tend to make him a bit silly.

Silly enough to know that he’s not going to last long and needs to get home ASAP to deal with…something.

Which he also makes your problem, pressing messy, desperate kisses to your lips as he tries to get his shirt off, your hands on his chest, feeling his heartbeat skyrocketing.

“I need you, (Y/N),” he says, breathless, almost growling. Yet, his eyes are wide, pleading. A doe-eyed prince with the aura of a wolf king. “And I’ll have every inch of you.”

Alejandro

Pre-established passionate lover.

One who is fiercely protective over you.

If anyone — and I mean anyone — catcalls you, makes passes at you, or even looks at you in the wrong way, Alejandro makes sure to enact righteous fury upon them.

He’ll do whatever it takes to make sure you’re 110% satisfied, regardless of context.

You want a new wardrobe ? It’s done. A new car ? All yours. You need Alejandro now and it can’t wait ? Why, how can he say no when you whine like that, when you tug at his sleeve and tuck your head against his shoulder.

He calls you “mi Princesa” and makes sure everybody knows you’re his and he’s yours.

A thorough lover is how you might describe him.

Especially after he’s so willing to bend you against the nearest surface to get you off, no matter the time of day.

You can bring him to his knees with just a look. Turn him from the most respected soldier in his department into a feral wolf.

Which, if you play your cards right, can end very well for both of you.

Alejandro likes to play a game whenever you’re riding him.

He grabs you by your hips and anchors you on top of him.

“Let’s see how long you can hold on for, mi Corazón,” he says, flashing you a sultry smile before he’s bucking into you at the pace of a mechanical rodeo horse at full speed.

“Holding on” can mean anything from not being pounded off Ale’s hips to staving off your orgasm for as long as you can.

Failure to do either is when you see Alejandro at his most wicked. When he’s all teeth, a shark’s grin, his eyes dark and his voice low as he tells you that he needs to “Train your endurance. How else are you going to take me again, hm?”

Needless to say, you’ll be lucky to be able to get out of bed the next day.

Rodolfo

His heart beats only for you. And as a result, he treats you like royalty.

As he should.

You want it ? You got it. 

In abundance.

You have the best of everything and Rudy loves nothing more than seeing your face light up when you receive one of his many gifts.

That, and having you sat on his lap, raking your fingers through his hair as he tells you about his day.

He omits the more gruesome details, fearing he’ll taint you with the blood on his hands if he doesn’t.

Speaking of lap-sitting, it’s your one-way ticket to an eventful afternoon with Rudy.

Cockwarming is his go-to, your legs wrapped about his waist as he fills out reams of paperwork, pressing kisses to your shoulder and telling you “What a good girl you’re being, mi amor,”

Be prepared for a tidal wave of praise for doing the bare minimum.

It doesn’t matter if Rudy’s topping or bottoming, he’s going to let you know how you’re making him feel, how nobody will ever ensnare him like you do.

“I love you,” he rasps, eyes half-lidded and skin glistening with sweat as you take him.

“I love you, I love you so much–” He growls, back arching into you as you catch a sensitive area. His chest is heaving and his eyes are dark.

“I’ll never let anyone else have you.”

Graves

This guy was made to have a controversially young girlfriend.

Calls you “Babydoll”, “Babygirl”, “Little Lady”, etc.

He unironically refers to himself as “Daddy”.

E.g. “You were eyein’n up that necklace for a while, Darlin’…” His hand slips to the crotch of his jeans, rocking his bulge into his palm.

“Maybe if you ask Daddy real nicely, he’ll get it for you.”

He’s actually very caring. He’d buy you the world if it meant seeing you smile.

He never expects anything from you in return.

He just can’t pass up the opportunity to have you in his arms, to touch you.

Graves can tend to go overboard with the gifts, though.

Calls you “young thing” when he’s feeling humourous.

On the flip-side, he can (and will) use your age gap against you. Like Price, but more Southern.

He’ll be very condescending when he’s mad, tending to use terms that undermine how intelligent and capable you really are.

“If you’d just listened to me and gotten it through your tiny head that I’m doing what’s best for you, we wouldn’t be in this situation!”

On the flip-flip-side, he uses your age gap as a jumping-off point into…dubious activities.

#1 dumbification kink enjoyer.

He’s a switch with top lean, what can I say.

“Can’t do anything without me, can you, Sweetheart.” It’s not a question. His eyes are too serious, too stern, for it to be. He’s  pounding into you, hands either side of your head, caging you beneath him.

Between his panting, he presses a wet, uncoordinated kiss to your lips.

“I’ll make sure you can’t even think without me by the time I’m done with you.”

Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously and it is greatly appreciated :-)

Masterlist Masterlist [Continued] Masterpost

AO3 Wattpad

[qtboni]

╰﹒ 𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓 𝐃𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌𝐒, 𝐌𝐘 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 !

PAIRING: Simon 'Ghost' Riley X Reader

OVERVIEW: Simon woke up to you sleeping far away from him in the bed so he pulls you back to him <//3

C/W: none just clingy simon missing u in his sleep (pure fluff) !!

W/C: 944 bubs

Simon shifted in his bed, feeling the empty coolness beside him. He reached out, wanting to feel your warmth, but his hand met nothing but empty sheets and bed covers.

"Love..?" He whispers faintly, his voice filled with a quiet desperation to find you.

Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, Simon slowly opens them to find you there, on the other side of the bed, lying with your back turned to him.

He lets out a quiet chuckle at the position you're in, your legs flung out in a starfish, snoring the night away. It's a silly sight, but it cracks him up, and he can't help but chuckle softly.

"Baby..." Simon sleepily whines to himself, calling out to you. "C'mere.."

Simon gently moves closer to you, pulling on the sheets to free himself. You feel his arm encircle your waist as he pulls you towards his warm body, spooning you in his arms.

Your skin meets his, and the warmth from his body causes your heart to skip a beat. You feel the gentle rise and fall of his chest as he breathes, feeling peaceful and safe in his embrace.

As he holds you close, Simon's thoughts drift to you. He thinks about how soft he is for you, how you make him feel alive and whole, how he doesn't want to let go, ever.

You're his everything, his world, and he can't imagine life without you. He feels his heart swell with love for you, and the need to be close to you and hold you tight, to never let you go.

With you in his arms, Simon feels complete. He would do anything to keep you close, to love and cherish you every day for the rest of his life.

You're the love of his life, and he will never forget the moment he first held you close, feeling your heart beat against his own, and knowing that he had found his soulmate.

As he holds you close, Simon's body moves instinctively, nuzzling his face in your neck, wanting to feel your warmth, to be closer to you. He wraps his arms around you tighter, unable to bear the thought of ever being apart from you again.

The warmth coming from his body slowly roused you from your slumber, your eyes fluttering open as Simon's arms tightened around your waist. You could feel his heart pounding against your back, beating in time with yours, and your heart skipped a beat in response.

"Simon?" You called out to him, voice still slightly hoarse from sleep, and you could hear the smile in his voice as he responded.

"I'm here, love," he whispered, his voice low and full of love, and you could feel his body pressing up to yours, wrapping around you like a warm blanket. His hands softly carressing your waist and hips. You felt his breath upon your neck, his heart beating in yours, and you felt a deep sense of peace wash over you.

"I love you," he whispered, almost inaudible.

As his arms wrapped around you, you felt a rush of warmth and comfort wash over you. His voice was low and gentle, and you could feel the love and intensity in every word.

You loved him more with each passing moment; each time he held you, each time he told you how much he loved you, and each time you felt his heart beating against yours.

"I love you, too, Simon," you whispered back, further relaxing into his embrace as you pecked his bicep that was hugging you close by your shoulders.

You could feel the love and intensity in every part of his body, from the warmth of his breath against your neck to the way his heart beat in time with yours. You knew that you would always be by his side, loving him and cherishing him for all eternity.

As you drifted back to sleep, his arms wrapped around you tightly, unwilling to let you go and wishing to always be this close. You could feel the love in every part of his body, and you knew that this was the love that could never be broken.

Simon pressed a gentle kiss to the nape of your neck, his breath warm and soothing against your skin, and you felt a pang of love and comfort wash over you.

His arms wrapped around you tightly, unwilling to let you go even for a moment, and he held you against him, feeling your heartbeat against his chest.

"Goodnight, love," he whispered, his voice low and filled with all the love he felt for you as he cuddled you close.

"G'night..." you sighed dreamily and closed your eyes.

As you drifted off to sleep, with your head resting against his chest, Simon couldn't help the rush of affection for you. He knew that you were the love of his life, that he would do anything for you, and that he couldn't imagine a future without you by his side.

Holding you close to him, he felt your heart beating slowly and regularly against his chest, and he felt a deep sense of peace wash over him. Every fiber of his being told him that he loved you, that you were everything he had ever wanted in life, and that he would always be there to protect you, to love you, and to cherish you.

He whispers your name softly, almost inaudible, as he drifted off to sleep, holding you tightly in his embrace. The love and intensity in his voice, in his touch, and in his eyes, was overwhelming, and he knew that you felt it too.

navi / masterlist !

[angelatsumu]

thinking of husband!simon who can't get enough of making you cum. nsfw under the cut. | husband!simon, overstimulation (kinda), fingering

“surely you can give me another, lovie” your husband taunts you, eyes peering at your reflection in the mirror. he’s got your legs spread for him, trapped under his own legs as his fingers—middle and ring—find themselves curled deep within your cunt. he’s smirking at you teasingly while your head’s rested against his shoulder. normally he hates when your eyes break contact with his, but today he allows your brief reprieve from his gaze because he’s feeling generous. truthfully speaking, he knows he’ll be asking for ‘just one more’ at least two more times before you’re boneless before him. your lover curls his fingers along the spongy cushion buried within your walls, prodding the soft material with a coy grin splayed across his features. his eyes are sharp as he watches your hips wriggle against the assault in a weak attempt to free yourself. he’s feeling generous, so he lets that silly little action go unpunished. he figures he’ll tax you for each offense; give him one more for his troubles, sweet girl. you whine at the intoxicating thrusts of his digits against you, body overheating as the coil within your abdomen winds tight. the sounds of your squelching cunt makes your cheeks heat with embarrassment, only worsened with the teasing lilt of your husband’s filthy words in your ear. “doin’ so good for me, sweet girl. ‘s almost too much isn’t it, baby?” he sounds like pure sin, panting as though the sheer feel of your cunt squeezing his fingers would do him in. you both know it would; your lover could cum with the sheer feel of your cunt spasming around his tongue, let alone his fingers. he’s hard against your ass, and each wiggle and writhe of your sweet hips making him grunt deeply against your skin. the tightening in your cunt alongside the soft moans of his name let your lover know you’re so close to the edge, so close that you can practically already taste it. he knows, and he makes sure you reach that peak quicker by circling your hard, throbbing clit with his thumb. “oh, sweet girl,” your husband coos at you as your orgasms crests, leaving you trembling in his grasp. Simon’s a bit cruel with the way he thrusts his fingers harder against that sweet spot while spewing filthily in your ear. it’s too much, always too much when he’s this sexy and all yours before him. as you ride out your orgasm, he coaxes you into rocking your hips against his thick fingers. “ride my hand baby, watch yourself ride my fuckin’ hand,” he moans in your ear, free hand gripping your jaw and forcing your gaze to your reflection in the mirror. the sight is enough to have your cunt squeezing his fingers so tight he could barely move, huffs and whines slipping from your pretty lips while he continues his assault on your overstimulated cunt. “please, Si” you whimper with warmed cheeks, eyes pleadingly looking into his own. he lets out a gruff groan, relishing in the tears that speckle your lash line. “just one more,”he lies to you, and you whimper softly knowing it’d be far more than one before you were done.

a/n: rbs + likes greatly appreciated. also, taking requests. also also, if you'd like the insanely long (and kinda fanon/self-indulgent) oneshot i wrote for halloween!simon, lmk

[charliemwrites]

Ok ok yes I’ve got a million things I’m working on, don’t yell at me. Just hear me out!!

Simon is given a solo mission, per usual. He’s to find and neutralize an enemy “computer tech” that’s been creating programs and viruses that are even causing Laswell’s people some issues.

It’s a simple enough job. One he’s done a thousand times over with perfect execution. Nothing personal, even if most squints are barely a step above civilian. He doesn’t lose sleep over it, things have to be done.

Pure luck that your get held up by 4 silly minutes. Four minutes that put you just behind Simon as he breaks into your home, leaving the door ajar. Four minutes that have him clear your house, realizing you’re not there, just as you slip inside and discover a huge scary man with a gun staring in confusion at your cat-ear headphones.

And well… you tase him.

Like, a lot.

And then you cuff him with the set you find on belt. To the radiator in your bedroom.

When he comes to, you’re not even there! You’ve taken a break from the whole situation, hoping a snack will make things less scary. (It doesn’t but at least you’ve got some food in you.)

Then when you walk back in, you see him awake, see him glaring. Audibly announcing “nope” and walk out again. Have to psych yourself up for fifteen minutes before creeping in again.

“I’m… hi,” you say. “So um…. What are you doing in my house…?”

And anyway, that’s how Simon gets “abducted” by an awkward, nervous, sunshine hacker who Did Not realize her employers were Bad Guys.

[lxvvie]

A silly thought: Simon wakes up by you kissing down his chest, he thinks he’s got lucky this fine morning until you blow a raspberry on his stomach. Man‘s flabbergasted as you giggle. Jokes on you though he flips you over and starts tickling you.

You're giggling because of the look on his face and the fact that he jumped some when you were playing songs on his tummy. Fuck no, he wasn't startled. It was pure reflex, sweetheart.

Whatever, Simon.

He gets you back, though, when he flips you over, calloused hands running over your ticklish areas. Simon nuzzles your neck, his stubble absolutely making you laugh and gasp, and it's all music to his ears. You promise between laughs that you won't do it again and Simon chuckles in response. 'Course you won't, love. You'll keep blowing them so long as there's breath in your body.

And then the tickling and laughter tapers down and becomes something more intimate than that. He keeps his face buried in your neck, you wrap your arms around him tight, and you two just... lay there.

You just lay there and bask in each other's presence.

[dmitriene]

THOUGHTS ABOUT PROFESSOR SIMON CORRUPTING HIS PLIANT STUDENT.

cw: dark mature content, shameless smut, corruption kink, kinda comfort, reader is delirious, possible age gap (reader in legal age) blowjob, pet names, praises and humiliation, pinv, breeding, intense sex, spanking, creampie, kissing, simon is a bad man. pairing: college professor simon ghost riley x college student fem reader

simon hates the feeling when he has to admit to himself that he's a horrible person, horrible by breaking something purer and more valuable, when all he wanted was a quiet, peaceful life.

but can he really break and stain something that was already perverted by itself, a pure, adorable soul that was ready to kneel before him just from the first sight.

and you don't have any shame at all to admit that it's you.

and either don't simon, by admitting that he loves the sight of you on your knees for him, corrupted by your professor and don't even asking for something in reward, just politely and obediently coming down on the harsh floor to suit yourself between his thick, spread muscular thighs, fat cock that oozes globes of pearly precum already fished out of his trousers, ready for your wet, tight parted mouth.

he's doesn't ashamed to paint your tight throat white, making you choke and gag on his bulbous cock that bruises the back of your tight, hot throat, fat tip spurts milky thick ropes of cum and making you swallow it with muffled gurgles, with your pretty face buried in his pubic, slightly trimmed hair, inhaling the musky aroma and rolling your watering eyes back, not at all registering his roaring, punched out growls — “good fricking girl, such a tigh' slutty throa' for your professor, heck„

and you are, a beautiful thing for simon riley, with puffy slicken lips, shining eyes that see only him in person and in your shameful silly dreams, which makes your thighs rub together almost everytime, silky skin exposed just enough by airy skirts that you wear as if special for him, simon guesses, and he's more than right.

simon feels almost bad, he quit army for better purposes — he had this chance more than anyone else in the forces, and wanted to take full advantage of starting an more quiet, peaceful life with teaching lessons at college, but currently the only thing he takes advantage of is — you.

all the guilt rolls off of him, replacing itself with burning coil in his stomach that makes his broad hips snap purposefully into your backside, plush ass jiggling in front of him and begged to be slapped just right, when a ruler lying nearby falls under his scarred arm, coming against your tender skin with bruising, hard slaps, making you yelp and wail with melodious sobs — “mmph! nn, p — professor riley!„

it's only makes your sloppy pussy gush more slick against his meaty cock, the whole veiny girth stretching your gummy walls and fat tip probes against your cervix with sharp, deep thrusts, leaving you limp and shaking beneath him on the cold, smooth surface of the desk, crumpled papers scattered all around the floor, beneath his feet and sticky from your dripping cleary slick.

simon pounds with purpose, looks how sexy your soft flesh looks scattered with red strikes that ruler left, now laying somewhere long forgotten as his calloused, scarred hands grip your jiggling asscheeks and rounded hips, little skirt crumpled and pushed up enough to open you up to your professor in perverted way, urging him to snarl and fuck you on his hard, throbbing cock harder — “look a' you, such a slutty view, and all because of your professors cock„

you can't even utter a single word, nodding dumbly as you just lay splayed and almost drooling, lips agape to let out incoherent mewls and broken cries of pleasure, pussy drooling and pulsing with each harsh thrust that pounds against your spongy spots so deliciously, fat tip of simon's cock almost nestles against your womb and throb, curling upward to make you shake and sob in pleasure, chanting for him — “s..simon.. mmgh! p — professor!„

he abuses your puffy, pulsing and clenching cunt for what feels like hours, until both of you snap, your hot walls clench and pulse around the fat cock that nestled in you to the brim, clamping and creaming to cover everything with your cum and slick, as simon fills you up rope after rope of thick, potent seed, huffing out growled praises — “good, good fucking girl, take it, jus — fucking take it„ as he rocks his hips, making your cheek squeeze against the cold surface of the wooden desk as your body jolts with each agonizing, overstimulating thrust.

the amount of his cum in you makes your tummy ache, you don't really feel when simon slips his cock out just barely, piercing dark gaze looking hungrily at the creamy mix of fluids on his thick length and how his cum gather in globes to leak out of your clenching hole, before he pushes back again, stuffing your cunny, warm palm moving to lift you off the desk just slightly.

you hear his hoarse chuckle, deep smoky sound as his thick fingers clean the drool off your lips and chin, tilting your head and forcing your bleary, unfocused gaze meet his own, back arching deeper and making your ass jutt out, pressing against simon's hips as he lowers his head to slot his chapped lips against yours, chiseled features rub against your face with slightly ticklish feeling of his light, overgrown stubble.

for a first time in a while, he savors the whole colors of situation, licking into your obediently open mouth gently, sucking on your tongue and lips as you smudge saliva all over his lips and chin, answering him sloppily, an eager sweetling, forcing a deep chuckle off of simon as his palm lays on your throat, feeling your calm pulse as his melted, dark gaze studies your disheveled appearance, thin pale lips curling in so wide, pleased grin as he rumbles — “thinky you deserved the extra credits, dove, did so good for your professor„

maybe, simon doesn't really hate this bubbling feeling inside of him when he sees you, especially when you gaze at him so deliriously, eyelashes fluttering prettily and wet, swollen lips forming into lopsided little smile.

simon riley promised to himself to never come back to his darker side, but does it count when an adorable thing like you holds him in your dainty clutches?

✎ 𝘮𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵. 𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘴. 𝘢𝘰3.

[mactavishsgfandwife]

Simon Riley x Curly Haired Reader

universally applicable to any curly girly (who wears her hair natural) 😋 pure fluff beautiful beautiful image from @ave661

When you and Simon first started going out, he only ever saw you with straight hair - you were worried about spending the night with him in case he would see your natural hair after a shower, and find it ‘ugly’. It was silly, but it felt like your curls didn’t look like other curls, they were just… a mess. The first time Si saw your natural hair, he was immediately all over you, even though he’d only come round to pick up his phone. He got so distracted by you that he completely ‘forgot’ about the phone, and just had to visit you again the next day to get it.

Simon Riley who loves to sit and watch you doing your hair. If you two have to stay at a hotel for a special event, and he’s ready way before you (his military efficiency), he is very happy to sit on the bed and watch as you try to fix that one curl that won’t curl like the rest of your head. He has NO idea what you’re doing, like, completely clueless, but you look pretty doing it.

Simon Riley who genuinely thinks you’re the prettiest girl he’s ever seen. You’re hot with curly hair, with straight hair, you’d be hot with no hair - he really doesn’t care, he just loves you. That said, he does secretly have a soft spot for your curly hair. Something about the volume and the aura it gives you is so perfect. That’s his girl.

Simon Riley who lets you buy hair products with his money. He doesn’t care, he likes to spoil you, and he doesn’t understand what’s wrong with his 3-in-1 shampoo but he’s happy to indulge his pretty girl if it makes her happy.

Simon Riley who is GREAT at messing up your hair. It feels so nice and he always has to touch it, playing with a strand when you’re sitting on the sofa together or full on gripping it while you’re making out. He’s finally learnt that he can’t just rake his hands through it (once they actually got stuck) but that doesn’t stop him from constantly tucking your hair behind your ear or patting it when he has an arm around you .

Simon Riley who, failing that, loves to smell your hair. You tell him it’s weird but your products just smell so good!!! And they smell like you!! If you’re in the kitchen, he’ll hug you from behind, and (not so) secretly smell your hair as he mumbles something to you about something totally random or about how much he loves you. One or the other.

Simon Riley who hopes that your kids have curly hair just like their mummy. The idea of his girl carrying around a toddler with identical curly hair, in little pigtails or tiny braids, melts his heart. He’s a tough guy almost all of the time, he’d probably intimidate any other guy on the street by his size and general rough attitude but if you gave him a baby girl that looked just like you, he would be totally devoted. He’d even let her try to put pink hair clips in his short hair, or draw on his tattooed arms. The idea of watching you do your baby’s hair for them melts his heart.

Simon Riley with whom you once tried to do that cute couple thing where you draw each other, and though you did your best to make a realistic drawing of him, he drew you as a stick figure with loopy squiggles for hair and little hearts around you. He was really proud of it, too. Says he hopes your kids don’t inherit his artistic talent.

i don’t know how many cod girlies have curly hair but i do!!! i wish i had a man to buy me nice products tbh

[canyonmooncreations]

Call Me

Summary: Y/n calls her best friend, Simon, when her boyfriend finally pushes things too far.

Characters: BestFriend!Simon x reader

Word Count: 1.6k

Author’s Note: Purely self indulgent, fuck ex boyfriends 

Warnings: mean/potentially abusive boyfriend, tears, mentions of violence

You and your boyfriend, Ben, had been on and off for over a year. It was always up and down, happy and sad. He was a little controlling but was always sweet after. He was angry but also super patient. So hard to predict, it was draining. The only person you can really talk to is your best friend Simon. He was always supportive and always listening no matter what time you called. He supported you rather he agreed with your decision to go back to your boyfriend or not. And you were always in touch with Simon even if your boyfriend was not a fan of “that freak”.

You had recently just graduated from the college where you met Ben and moved to a town that was in the middle of him, Simon, and your family. You had finally gotten your own space and had started the big girl job of your dreams. You couldn’t be happier…. Until it started. 

Your boyfriend was an hour and a half away and with this new space it felt like he had grown a whole new confidence. He was always starting fights and nothing you did was good enough for him. You tried to be happy, but it just seemed like you couldn’t win. Simon knew about what was happening, you called him often to talk about it all. Simon was so supportive and validating your feelings when you needed him most. You used to have the biggest crush on Simon, but you knew you never had a chance with a guy like him. You settled on being friends and then you met Ben. But Simon was the only person you wanted right now.

What you didn’t know was that every time you called him his heart skipped a beat. Simon knew you were just friends and he would never have a chance with a girl like you so he settled for being your best friend. Every time you mentioned Ben, his blood boiled and his fist clenched. He wanted nothing but for you to be happy. Ben was so bad for you. Simon knew Ben read through all of your text messages, so he encouraged you to call him just to be safe. Ben was not typically violent, but Simon knew the patterns and knew it was coming. Of course he couldn’t tell you this because he knew you wouldn’t listen until you were ready for it on your own time. 

What Simon also knew was that your freshman year of college was nothing but depression and alcohol. He was hopeful but knew something bad with Ben could send you down the spiral. He was always waiting for that call to come. The call where you would need him the most. That call finally came. 

Simon was working around his flat, doing some, his least favorite, when his phone rang. It was y/n. The picture he had chosen for you was a picture he had taken at an arcade with you smiling silly holding up the bear you had won (with his tickets). 

“Hey lovey”

“Simon, I- I-”

“What’s wrong?”

“Simon, we got in a big fight and he said he was coming over and I am really scared that he --”

“I am on my way.”

“Simon, no. I live like an hour away from you.”

“I will be there in 45 minutes.”

“Simon! It is an hour drive.”

“Fine. I’ll be there in 30.” 

He hung up at that as you giggled and sniffled. You knew you shouldn’t call him. He probably gets so annoyed hearing all of your problems. But, he was your support system. You decided you would wait for him, right where you were, the bathroom floor. Simon has an apartment key, he can let himself in.

Your head kept racing with thoughts. Was Ben worth it? Was it worth the heartache? What would you tell your friend if they were in your shoes? Did you deserve this? You didn’t think you were the best girlfriend. 

Before you knew it you were sobbing and curling into a towel on your bathroom floor. Too busy crying, you didn’t hear the door open. It was a pitiful sight really and Simon was saddened by what he saw. The world’s most beautiful girl sobbing on her bathroom floor over a boy who didn’t deserve her at all. 

‘“Oh, love.” Simon lowered himself to the floor right beside you. He pulled your head into his lap and ran his fingers through your hair. This was the most soft, innocent touch you had felt in a while. You only cried harder at the thought of someone loving you like they should. You both stayed on the floor until the sobbing subsided after some time had passed. 

“Y/n, can we move this to your bed? This floor can’t be comfy.”

“It is comfier than walking to my bed.” You sniffled as you spoke and this broke his heart. 

“Okay, then….” you felt him set your head back on the towel and his body raise off the floor. You looked at him with confusion as he bent down to pick you up. You giggled as he carried you to your bed. You loved being carried but Ben refused to because it was “childish”. You smacked Simon’s arm as he put you in bed.

“Si, why did you do that?”

“A pretty girl like you should not be crying on the bathroom floor. You will cry in a comfy pillow castle.” He situated your pillows just the way he knew you loved them.

You only smiled at him. You got cozy in bed as Simon walked into the kitchen. The thoughts started racing and the tears started to fall. What if Ben was really coming to “settle this in person and show you who is in charge”. It felt like such a threat, your worst fear coming true. Simon walked back into the bedroom with a juice box and some animal crackers, your favorite.

“What’s the matter?” Simon approached the bed slowly, not sure where your mental state was and how frightened you could be.

“What if he shows up tonight? What if he tries to come inside?”

“Does he have a key?”

“No.”

“Good. Either way, I will be sleeping on the couch and can beat his ass, easily and with pleasure. So nothing to worry about. You’ll be all safe here, princess.”

You only smiled at him as you took the snacks softly. Simon always calls you nicknames, but never this one. You ate your snacks in silence as Simon started to put away your laundry. He knew you hated doing laundry, it was your least favorite chore. It is actually his least favorite too, but he told you it was his favorite and for you, it was. Ben always called you lazy and gross for not putting your laundry away right as it came out of the dryer.

“I can do that.”

“I know.” Simon gave you a reassuring smile. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not really. It’s stupid. I am probably overreacting.”

“Your feelings are valid y/n, no matter what you are feeling. I will listen if you want me to. If not, we can talk about anything else.”

“Do you want to watch a movie?”

“Of course”  You could see that Simon was so excited and you knew he would even let you pick the movie. (Ben would never)

“We can watch… hmmm… I can’t pick.”

“Slasher…”

“Simon! No! You know I hate scary movies. Let’s watch Zootopia.”

“Anything for you.”

You got the movie set up as Simon grabbed some more snacks. You loved these simple moments with Simon. You knew he wouldn’t get angry with you for moving the wrong way, or eating too many snacks. He was simply there in peace. You felt yourself getting tired as the movie played and the tears were about to come back. 

“Simon?”

“Yes, love.”

“Will you… hold me? No, that’s silly. I’m sorry. Forget I even asked.” You buried your face in your hands and the tears just started flowing. 

“Y/n.” He guided your head out of your hands as he wiped your tears. “I would love to hold you. You are not alone in this and I promise you are safe.”

Simon moved so you could comfortably be little spoon, which he knows you love because you always talk about it. He helped move your pillows and got you comfy. He never thought this moment would come. Of course, you had hugged and sat close together, but not like this. You were so vulnerable with all the raw emotions, and you chose him to hold you. With you in his arms, he wanted nothing more than to protect you from the world, and especially from Ben. 

“Thank you, Si.”

“Get some rest and we can talk about everything in the morning. I promise you’ll be safe tonight.” 

He rubbed your side and you cuddled in closer to him. You felt so safe. He felt at home, a feeling he has never felt before. He glanced at you as slept in his arms and couldn’t help but smile and be sad at the same time. You didn’t deserve this pain. You deserved a life of nothing but love and joy. A life he intended to give to you, if you let him. 

[kneelingshadowsalome]

I Never Missed You 2/3 (Bodyguard!Ghost x F!Reader)

Word count: 7.3 k

Tags/warnings: 18+ only. Romance, eventual smut, fluff, light angst, banter, pining, flirting, minor injuries, major character death, HFN ending. Lady/Knight dynamic. Unequal pairing trope. Bodyguard AU. Reader is a rich bitch (how else could she afford a PPO?)

Summary: You hire a bodyguard to protect you and hunt down the one who's been sent to take your life. This man was your lawyer's first recommendation, and you never even looked through his file because you had better things to do. But it soon turns out that this man – this Simon Riley – is very talented... Talented in driving you crazy.

A/N: A three part fic based on this request. Smutty smut ahead in this chapter. Brace yourselves for impact.

Part 1

You have to admit that you look dashing tonight. 

And not because you want to turn people's heads at the party… But because you want him to look at you like you're the most forbidden snack he will never have.

It's selfish and petty, and you're just seeking attention. But at least you have the balls to admit it: you want Simon Riley to drool after you. You want this man on his knees. And nothing else has worked except that bra.

So you turn to the world's oldest weapon. A woman's weapon. Seduction.

"I'd suggest you keep a low profile until we're done."

He looks at you through the mirror while you finish your hair. Uses the word we instead of I. It makes your heart ache… And you take even that lecturing comment as a compliment. So he does think you look nice, or at least nice enough to stand out. You read into every look, every little tone of voice he gives you.

"I thought we were supposed to lure him in," you say while you neaten your necklace. Of course you look nice. You have done everything you can to look ravishing tonight: a deep-cut, thigh-revealing dress, cat eye makeup, red lipstick...

"Yeah but not like this."

"I'm not locking myself inside the house because of this," you announce pointedly. "I'm not afraid to live my life." 

You turn and look him up and down, give him a little tilt of the head. "Don't you have anything else to wear?"

He doesn't shrink, doesn't bat an eyelash. Just looks down on you from that ivory tower of masculine prowess and makes you feel like a fool for being so dolled up.

"There's a difference between courage and foolhardiness," he states, not falling for your attempts to make him feel small in your world. You suspect there is so much more to this man, but you don't care to know about the circumstances he grew up in, the situations that gave him that broken nose and lip. You don't want to know about his broken soul.

Or perhaps you do...

"I suppose you know everything about that," you say while looking straight at the uneven scar on his jugular.

"I do."

"Tragic past?"

"You could say that."

You feel even more silly, standing before him in all your glory, pearls in your ears and silver around your neck. You pay this man for his services; he's supposed to protect you. But something in his eyes told you from the start that there lies an abyss inside this man. And you didn't pay for that: a peek inside his heart. But a door is open a creak now, and what's inside is pure darkness.

"Well, whatever it is, I'm sorry you had to deal with that."

Your cultured attempt to dance around his chasm makes those brown pools melt. Finally, he melts. But not to compassion, or mercy, or anything that would make you believe that you two understand each other. 

He looks at you like you're a stranger from another planet. He's intrigued but doesn't quite understand how a creature like yourself has come to be. You're not only a child in his eyes but a coward as well for not daring to open that door to hell.

"What do you think," you hurry to change the subject. "Will I do tonight?"

He’s always so hyper-vigilant, his stare fixed on everything else but you. It feels childish, to be jealous of his attention when all he’s trying to do is protect you. 

But now… Now that alert darkness bores straight into you.

"You look good in everything, ma'am."

A breeze of arctic wind goes through your scalp, and a fainting warmth settles in your belly.

You tiptoed your way to the fridge yesterday morning, before official breakfast, in your knickers and an old band merch from your youth - the one you still slept in sometimes because it was far more comfier than your silk pajamas. He walked in fully dressed and mighty while you were sneaking back upstairs with a glass of apple juice. The humiliation was overwhelming, especially when he dared to look you up and down in your state of underdress.

"Goodness… Sorry."

It should’ve been he who was supposed to say those words. But you felt like an intruder in your own house. It was a dangerous slip: to look so homely, with no brush stroke gone through your hair, with no toner on your skin. With no makeup and standing there before him in all your…you.

"No harm done."

He had never looked at you like that, and you swore right then and there that you would only descend those stairs with your full battledress from now on.

"Even in an old t-shirt…?" You ask with a tight voice. Desperate. Longing…

"Especially then."

Simon Riley strips you from your weapons and charades in a second. Your tight, seductive smile slowly falls off your face, and from behind it, a fragile, naked hope arises to gape at him. He clears his throat as if he just offered you an entire bowl full of ice cream when he was supposed to give you only a little scoop.

"I'm gonna go take a shower," he says, calm and adamant, like a statue you would go to see at a gallery.

"I'm afraid we should be going already."

"Takes 5 minutes."

You purse your lips, and he's on his way to the bathroom before you can even give him your nod. The guy is used to military showers, then, and perhaps it's for the better that he puts on at least some effort.

When he comes out, you're sitting in the hallway, and he's only wearing a towel. It's the one you gave him when he arrived, the softest you could find from your closets. You remember how the first odd thought you had upon seeing this man is that he probably isn't used to softness.

And now you see why.

You can see the prominent veins and the sketchy forearm ink, his muscles are magnificent to the point of unholy, he has a delicious, thin layer of fat on top of his belly, and the eyelashes aren't the only breath of hair that's pale on this man… But he looks like he has gone through an inferno.

His back is full of scars, and half of his shoulder looks like it has been dipped into a deep fryer. You catch a hollow dent between his ribs, and there's more, but he walks to his room before you see the rest of it.

The taxi drive to the party is filled with silence as you try to digest what you just saw. You want to call your lawyer and demand him to tell you where the hell did he find this man and who Simon Riley truly is. Who exactly does he work for when he's not taking bodyguard jobs? 

But the first thing you do when you arrive at the large party held in a small palace is to go to the punch bowl and down a glassful in one go.

He's on your heels the whole night, eyes everyone with a hawk stare, and does his job perfectly. He grabs your arm occasionally and whispers in your ear if someone seems suspicious. After one and a half hours, he comes to you and practically demands that you two leave. Normally, you would start an argument, but not tonight.

You kind of want to go back home, too. The people at the party seem tedious, and his scars have reminded you that even if you live in a world where violence is not the norm, it doesn't mean that other worlds don't exist. Otherworlds - where people get shot, stabbed, and blown apart. Whipped and cut and deep-fried. You're in danger, and it took his suffering to see that.

You have been so stupid that you just about wish someone would slap you.

Simon has been so patient with you that you nearly apologize on the ride back home. You want to beg his forgiveness and confess you have been a spoiled little idiot.

But again, that's not an easy thing to do. You turn to look at your forbearing bodyguard, ever silent in the taxi, and turn your voice to silk.

"You really should smile more," you suggest. He doesn't answer, just looks out your window as if there were perils there too. You suddenly realize anyone could shoot through the glass or the door at any given time. With a proper caliber, a bullet could pierce that window and coat his black shirt with the insides of your skull.

No. No. I'm not ducking my head.

There's no one there.

"Have you ever tried?"

You turn to humor and flirt to drive those intrusive thoughts from your head. He doesn't yet know that you're afraid, that you have been afraid this whole time. You should have bought that armored car.

"Am I your most annoying client ever…?" There's a smile on your lips, a little pardon for being so infuriating. His eyes drop there, then lift back up to your eyes with surprising seriousness.

"You're my first client ever."

Well… This was news.

"Oh. Why did you accept this job?"

His stare sails away from you and back to the London night. You stifle the urge to grab his hand, a fistful of his shirt, to draw his attention back to you. Every time he's around, you feel safe; every time he looks at you, everything else ceases to exist. 

You want him so badly you could cry.

"They don't teach you manners at the SAS…?"

"No. They teach us how to kill."

You scoff and turn to look through the window, too. 

"Brute."

"You're entitled to your opinion, ma'am."

When you reach your house, he uses that term again. You're 110 % sure he's only trying to annoy you. 

"Good night, ma'am."

"Stop it," you nearly slam your purse on the table in the hallway.

"What?"

"The ma'am thing…!"

You sound like a wife who's looking for an argument after putting on a charade all evening. When the door to your home closes, volcanoes erupt, and bombs drop, your husband-like bodyguard gets the blunt of your fear and frustration.

But how do you argue with someone who never argues back? He's calm like the Pacific during a stormless season, always, always gets calmer when you're going berserk. He walks to the armchair in your living room like he owns the whole goddamn place and sits down with a sigh. 

And there is a smile playing on his lips.

"What should I call you then?"

You look at him, dumbstruck, on that chair, spreading his legs like there's no tomorrow, arms comfortably on the armrests, and mouth drawn into a genuine, peaceful, thoroughly naughty smile.

"Oh, now you're smiling," you huff. The unbelievable audacity of this man… "Some ideas on what to call me popped into your head?"

"Verily."

"Go on then."

"Nah. You should go to sleep."

"I'm not going until you tell me."

You cross your arms over your chest to underline that ruling. His smile only widens. He looks wickedly delicious in that seat with his legs spread, and the chair doesn't swallow him like it swallows you. Actually, his shoulders are wider than the back panel of this enormous chair.

"Well," he begins, "’princess' came up first."

You try to catch what he just said through the stupor of wanting to climb on that wide lap.

"Truly? How original."

"Or spoiled brat."

You stop breathing for a second, then reel straight toward a spiral of–

"How dare you?"

You notice his eyes dropping to your heaving breasts again. This man is so different from a dinner-offering, cunning man in a suit. He has no pretenses whatsoever. He looks at you with that little smile, eyes burning, legs drifting apart even more, probably his cock stirring from how you are trying to chastise him. If you had pearls around your neck, you would clutch them. Or throw them at him.

"You son of a–"

"Pretty."

His next choice renders you speechless; it cuts through your insult before it even flees your mouth. You gape at him, jaw open, breathing and cheeks burning, pussy throbbing - soaked so thoroughly now that you feel a tiny droplet cascade down your thigh.

"Yeah. That's better," the man says as if he's also blessed with a Superman stare, knowing you're seconds away from drenched. "Better than brat or princess, anyway."

The darkness conceals most of him as he settles inside that massive chair he dwarfs. You are falling, or at least that's what it feels like. A tumble, a slip inside his Styx. But there's no bottom, and the water is warm ink, despite the fact that he's so blanched.

"Pretty…?" You whisper into that water, breathe onto the surface of his depths. The darkness answers immediately.

"Very."

Your swallow is a wet, nervous roll inside your throat when you sink into that river of lust and smoke. 

You take your jewels off first, because you know he doesn't care for them. Money's not his chief interest, even if he's being paid. And fat, at that. But he's not here for riches, he’s not here for the jewels – or that's what you desperately wish.

The necklace and pearls are gone soon, tucked away on the table with your trembling digits, and he's sitting there like a statue.

You have no trouble with this dress: the zipper seems to cascade down on its own as you reach behind your back. He's motionless as you slip out of the straps that keep the dark velvet up. You feel like you're the Styx: but the darkness of the river pools at your feet as you let go of the gown, let go of everything and continue your freefall.

He doesn't move, doesn't give evidence that he's even breathing; he just sits there like a long-forgotten king.

The panic snares you with a drool-wet throat: you salivate not because of him but because of your nerves. 

Are you… harassing him?

Does he want this…?

At least he thinks you're pretty – and you could laugh out loud; your thoughts are vain and petty, even when you're baring yourself before him in more ways than just one. Your breaths are audible distress inside that darkness, and he's still: everything's still.

But he moves when you reach for your bra.

It's just a hand that soars through the darkness, an involuntary reach for support and gathering of composure as his fingers find his jaw. They swipe across imagined stubble before he leans his head on that hand, just an ounce's worth of weight placed on his thumb and pointer as if he's simply in his thoughts. But the hawk stare is fixed on the lace covering your breasts as it falls on the floor too.

You hear his breaths now. Quicker on the inhale, heavy on the exhale. Your thumbs slide under the hem of the last piece of your veil, something you got from the store when you were feeling down. Now the underwear makes you feel better than ever - who would’ve guessed it's the moment you slither it off? Slowly, too: you’re being a tease, hip bones giving a two-second dance for him as he continues to watch you strip before him like the queen of the night.

You breathe in sync now, and your nipples perk up – he hasn't even touched you yet and you're more aroused than ever with a man.

Not a word spoken, and you fear you’re being delusional – if you've just imagined the heat between you two, but then those legs flare a hair's breadth more. His voice is the softest whip as it crackles through the void.

"Yeah... You're pretty. Now what?"

You breathe in gusts now. It's exhilaration, damnation.

"Jesus Christ, Simon."

The chair gives a creak as he rises, like an ancient shadow. Intimidating – intense, always, always, and you've been trying to coat him with soft towels and feed him toast. You wonder if he prefers black tea simply because it tastes more bitter than coffee rounded with milk.

Does he want this? Silly softness and toast and–

You get all your answers as he bends just enough to match your height, just enough to sweep you off your feet. Your hands go around his neck on instinct as he lifts you up from your rich, opulent Styx and into his sea.

You're quiet all the way upstairs – he can't fuck you downstairs, then, has to intrude on your luxury and privacy. You don't mind, especially when the steps give a desperate wail under your combined weight. He lets it sing its music to the night: your ruining already makes so much noise.

He reaches for his gun right after he’s placed you on the mattress. The sound of it is heavy when he sets it on the nightstand that has only seen glasses of water and apple juice and perhaps a few books. 

He undresses with soldierly sharpness, no seduction there. But he doesn't have to seduce you: his stare and heavy-cold demeanor have already done that.

He's so, so different from the others… Looks at you on the bed like you're both a piece of tender sirloin and something akin to garbage. That's an accurate depiction of a princess, perhaps. You know wasps gather around both honey and bloodied meat. 

He looks at you like that because you know nothing. And he's not here to ruin you… he's here to insert himself inside you like you're a foe that needs to be infiltrated, plundered and burned until you understand. 

He's big. Daunting. A brute while you’re the princess, could be the sleeping beauty, the way you stay immobile and try to take in this man's sheer power. You saw him half naked already when he came from the shower, but it's nothing compared to seeing all that taut, scarred flesh up close, soon about to fall upon you like a broken mountain. 

And what's between his legs is wholly proportional to the rest of him. That thing is a menace, and it's not even fully erect - hanging thick between thick thighs, foreskin revealing a fat, sloping tip, and he's veined all over… 

Finally, your mouth goes dry.

His gaze sweeps your beauty, and that cock gives a throb – a good, hard pull that stretches out into the open air, and your eyes go wide. Then he prowls, like the king of the jungle, moving with a fluidity that must be scary to those who meet their end by this big brute’s violence.

You are able to take in air only when his hand falls next to your head. The other claims you by the middle as if to soothe you - but the truth is you're caged in like a tiny, quivering animal.

The hand is heavy as it slopes across your stomach and scales your mound. It doesn't cup or probe, only rests there over your most sacred place, like an enemy surrounding a city. Your thighs part slowly, hoping he would just sweep right in.

"This wasn't in the deal," he rasps as he looks down at you: heavy iron judging a diamond.

"Oh shut up," you breathe, thoroughly thrilled and shy. If you weren't lying down, his intensity would buckle your knees.

"Nor do I take orders from you, ma'am."

"I'm not- Don't call me a-"

His eyes spark as the hand dips down like a deep diver into the blue. You gasp a stunned whiff when he's met with a mortifying amount of slickness. Your arousal sings a pretty song as he draws a finger over your slit, the moist sounds followed by another stuttering sigh. 

"Look at you all wet," he remarks, and you grit your teeth.

“Shut…up…”

"You know why I accepted this job?"

He wrecks you with one thick finger, rough skin lathering you with your own juice like he's trying to make a point here. And he is making a point: it comes across perfectly. The princess is a filthy mess for brutes…

And of course he was given a file on you too. With more than just one photo.

"Yeah," he rasps when you only look back at him with your felled deer helplessness. You could swear that he just heard your thoughts. "I think you know."

"You're–ah– a brute," you whisper, eyes shining. Your thighs part even more, feel yourself leaking over his fingers that stroke you agonizingly slow. You swallow with hunger, the need pangs on your cheeks. Your whole body is throbbing for him.

“Sticks and stones, love.”

He's so infuriating that you could slap him. Claw him, rip him apart. But you nearly laugh instead… It's far better an option to let him claw and rip you apart. He's tearing you apart right now, with those eyes and his hand, exploring you like you're the first course and he's here for the whole dinner. How can he be so calm?

"Could you…" You start, then realize you've never begged for this man.

"Hm? Talk to me," he commands. "Whatever ya want."

You whimper – from bliss or relief, you can't tell. The frantic need to serve is fully fleshed out in his tone. It surprises you. You thought he was here for his own pleasure. 

You try to think through the bliss of his fingers. You've had all kinds of things... All you could ever want, most would say. But that's not entirely true. No man has ever promised to please you however you want.

"Could you go…"

"Go down on you?" He places a thumb, broad and hard, on your clit. Teases it with the slightest pressure and a circle.  "Lick your cunt?"

Fuck…

He has no trouble saying it as it is, and you nod, still helpless.

"Sure. 'N after that I'll fuck you nice and good."

He's never, ever sounded like that before. Dark, and rich, the baritone reaching a level that speaks of hunger – no, need.

A brute, a pussy-drunk brute, the blood in your veins sing as he goes down. Nothing can prepare you for the way with which he manhandles his way between your thighs like they're only a petty distraction in the way. They're forced wide apart with a tight grip that speaks of urgency, but he takes his time to admire the sight bared before him. He’s drinking you in like ambrosia, towering above you while you’re being held open for him to just observe you like you’re a center-spread girl in a filthy magazine. 

"You're fucking pretty down here, did ya know that?"

You don't even know what to say - his tone, his observation is base, and still, they're the most beautiful words anyone has ever said to you.

"No…?"

"Well now ya know."

He steals a final glance at you, and the fire in his eyes already makes your legs feel weak. He dives between your parted legs, right into your leaking, glistening folds, and you're suddenly glad that you've done all that yoga… Those shoulders are so broad they force your thighs even further apart as he makes himself home there between your legs. 

A hot mouth presses against you like this man has been starving, even if you've fed him the best delicacies for days. An even, fat stroke is the first thing you feel before your toes curl and your head falls back.

"Goodness, Simon..." You try to keep yourself from stuttering as his mouth opens you like a flower. You should be quiet, for once, and let him do the job. He seems like an expert, even and especially there between your legs. "Do you-ah, always shag your clients?" 

"Told you you're my first," he rasps a husky sigh on your folds. He could ruin you with that voice alone.... He gives you another sweep of his tongue, full and ample, and your fingers curl around the sheets, your hips buck; your ass drives up on instinct, trying to both escape his mouth and rub your pussy against those thin but eager lips. 

"Don't worry," he tells your pussy with a warm chuckle. "This is free of charge."

You sigh, the first laugh of many up into the air. You're supposed to get angry, but you can't. You can't. 

"Have… no words for you."

"Good. It's about time you stopped talking, love."

He grabs your hips to punctuate it that you should indeed shut up. Fingers sink into your flesh like you're a whole goddamn feast - no more fucking toast and teasing. His hands look so huge as they dig into your skin - so different from the hands of men who work in offices or wait for people to serve them. You upvoted those hands to be the best part of this man long ago.

And that bulk of muscle… Some of those men in suits might go to the gym, but they couldn't forge a body like his in a million years: that breathtaking mass built to work and endure harsh conditions. It's not a flex or a sculptured piece of art: it's simply survival - ancient and primal.

He's got darkness, and you got diamonds, but something tells you his depths are infinitely more valuable. You couldn't buy his intensity even if they sold it in the streets. The skull mask was self-made, everything in this man is self-made, and he's sampling what diamonds taste like, and you wonder… Does he think you're cheap, some fake piece of worthless junk? Does he laugh at how easy you are? That under your manners, you're only a spoiled brat and a promiscuous maneater…? Or that he couldn't care less, as long as he can push his cock inside you?

He gives you his best, that's for sure. A working man, with you as his assigned mission, and the feeling of being a spoiled little princess only increases. And how are you supposed to stay still if he's slow and attentive like that? You might be his first client, but you're not his first shag…

His lips seal tightly around your nub, suck it, lap it, sigh on it - he's already breathless from the need to make you moan and cum. A purpose-driven, ravenous man, and when he dips his tongue inside your cunt, your mind finally goes blessedly blank. Your legs shake and stretch, and you can’t prevent your hand from skimming down to grab his hair when he gives you deep, unhurried plunges with his tongue, huffing against you from the mad want to make you feel good. 

You would never have guessed that Simon Riley would get such pleasure from licking a woman.

One hand disappears from around your thigh, and you guess it's one of his fingers that arrives, wide and thick, to tease your entrance. You can feel the smile on your folds as he slips it in, making you nearly jolt on the sheets. Your fingers instantly curl to tug that pale hair, to grab hold of something, and it makes him rumble inside you. 

He doesn’t even wait for you to catch your breath as he adds another finger. Goes shallow at first, then pushes those fingers in to the knuckle. The feeling of being filled - and not being filled enough - is going to drive you crazy any second now.

"Simon…"  

"Yeah?"

“I want you to… want you to…" you hear yourself choking on your beg as he works those fingers in and out of you while his lips are tight around your clit. He knows exactly what you're trying to ask.

And suddenly, it's he who breaks… 

"Right. 'M gonna fuck you now, yeah?"

The spread is gone, and you're being moved - on your belly, and you briefly think whether it's because he can't bear to look into your eyes when he takes you. You don’t even have time to whimper from the loss of his fingers and mouth before heavy thighs force your legs aside. You’re being spread again, crudely, obscenely, like it’s just a procedure that has to be done. He’s both methodical and impatient, and you wonder - has he wanted to rail you like this ever since he saw you? Force you to lie down on your belly while he takes you from behind like a helpless damsel?

His hands come to your hips as if to make sure that you won’t run away from under him. As if you ever wanted to… 

Something far fatter forces its way between your folds and straight onto your opening. He glides over your folds a few times, spreads your wetness all over his tip. Methodical still, but it makes you moan and swallow.

"Jesus…"

The lathering stops, the jutting cock settles right where your depths lie, and he chuckles. "Not quite, love."

Fuck… 

Fuck this man's cheek and audacity. Fuck his size and pride, the way he knows what he's doing all the fucking time. 

“Desperate for it?” 

That stupidly fat cock just resides there, teasing your aching, leaking hole without going in. But it’s like he answers his own question because you feel the thick of him give a notch against your folds. So impatient. Thoroughly needy. It sends you further down the whirpool of desire, a searing white, fathomless deep..

“Yes..”

When he goes in with a leaden grunt, your muscles go into a spasm - he's too big, he hasn't prepared you right, and still, you force yourself to relax.

"Not what you expected?" 

"It's… too much," you admit. He stops, realizing that for once in his life, he might've been an impatient man. Then he crawls forward, and you feel like you're about to be buried under a boulder as his weight bears down on you. Hands sink into the mattress on both sides of you, forcing you further up against him - you're floating, almost, to where you belong.

"Yeah? C'mon… You can take it."

You shudder. It's not even fully in yet?

He speaks too softly for it to be a demand, even when he's hovering on the brink of wanting to simply ram himself into your cunt. It's an encouragement. He’s cheering you on, like a coach. Or a leader... It’s leadership. 

When you don't object, he starts to feed more of himself in. You try to remember how to breathe because you were wrong, you were so, so wrong - it was barely just the tip, and now you're stretched wide and tight. He's endless, and sinking in deeper, deeper….

And you want it so much - all of him- you want to grip him and never let go. One hand comes to sweep over your hip again, it caresses the swell of your ass, and you know he's looking down at how well you can take him after all.

"How are we doin'?"

Your lips are swollen, and your brows are creased tight. It's still not in…? 

You’re fucked. Literally. But you can take him... You must.

You whimper when he slows down almost to a halt.

"Love. Tell me to stop 'n I'll stop."

"Just–gently," you whisper, brittle and shivering from joy.

"Don't worry. I got you."

Slowly, he arrives to the end of him and you. Hips flesh against yours, he’s out of breath before he even starts the thrusts. His length caresses places unfathomable in this position, and his weight is crushing you, even when he's supporting himself. It only feels like the safest place to be. Trapped there between your safe, soft bed and his safe, hard body. 

The first thrust punches the air out of your lungs. It doesn’t hurt, and it’s not uncomfortable; it’s just too much to take. You’ve never been so filled. 

"Fuck…" He swears, somewhere between the third or fourth thrust. "You're…"

"Good…?" You offer him when he doesn't continue. You know he was possibly going to say tight or something crude like that and corrected himself before it spilled. He merely grunts as an answer - a barbarian through and through, you decree. And then the brute speaks…

"The best."

God. You feel like a diamond after all, but you've never been under so much pressure, fearing you might break.

"You-too…" It's a sad little mewl. You sound like a child trying to make friends. Latching a hook on him, no matter how tiny it is. One shake, one ripple from the behemoth, and it will fall loose.

"Don't go lying with that pretty little mouth," he warns.

"I'm not lying."

"Yeah…? Keep squeezing me like that and perhaps I'll believe you."

It's a strange feeling, to meet your mistrust and jealousy on him. He has no pretenses, but he has secrets, camouflage, and flash grenades that blind you from the truth. But even he can't hide it all when he's moving inside you, so close, so terribly close.

You melt into a pool of heat and want, trying to meet him midway by offering your cunt, arching your spine, driving yourself up to give him better access. What was possibly meant as a desperate fuck turns into a sweet, weightless rocking, a rhythm of him and you. The hands on your hip start to gain weight as he holds you still for him, at times even pulls you against his cock.

"C'mon… wanna hear you," he huffs, then slides one hand to your butt and gives it a fond squeeze when you won't instantly make noise. "You're always givin' me that cheek and now you're silent?"

It's a warm question, a thick baritone that settles into your stomach, then shoots downwards and makes you clench. 

"Wh-what do you want me to say?"

"Want you to sing."

Of course the man who never talks won't shut up in bed. But he's not bullying you into submission, nor is he being mean. If anything, he sounds like he's finally on his knees. 

And you don't want to be mean either. Not anymore. But you just can't help yourself from having a little fun now that he's finally desperate and inside you. 

"Make me," you whisper, delivering your cheek with a wicked little smile.

The response is immediate: he dares to land a flat palm on your ass. Like you're a broodmare, a sirloin steak for him to feast on. And it does the job: you almost shriek, or at least that's how it sounds like when a parched little whine pushes through your vocal chords with violence.

"That's better," he barks, pleased with his work.

"You're horrible," you gasp. You're glad he put you face down on a pillow: you can only hope he doesn't see how happy you are in the darkness of his night.

"Yeah? And you're sweet." 

It's said with gravel wrapped in silk. It hits you and ignites, starts a flame inside you without permission.

You want him in ways you shouldn't. You want… more breakfasts, him carrying you up the stairs, taking in the way you tip-toe around the house in an old t-shirt. You want to serve him back rubs and tea and see who he is when he's not being paid. You don't want a lap dog or a guard dog, you simply want... 

Simon.

"I'm– I'm sorry that I've been such a bitch," you whisper. He sinks back on top of you until his nose nuzzles the back of your ear. He leans on his elbows, trying not to break you into too many little pieces, but the feeling of being confined couldn't be more blissful.

"Cock's that good?" He drags the following thrust, sparking your nerves aflame as he hits your core. But it's not brutal; if it is, it's the sweetest wrecking you could ever have imagined. 

"Don't make me take my words back," your lips pull to a smile and a silent, inner laugh. 

"Wouldn't dream of it." 

He's smiling too. Inwardly, perhaps, but you can hear the mirth. His weight on top of you while you're lying under him on your belly, unable to move, unable to do anything other than take the full brunt of his cock as it spreads you open, is pure heaven.

"Want you to cum when I'm inside you," he rasps in your ear, lips brushing the underside of your jaw. "Think you can do that, princess?"

Being told to cum on command is a bit ridiculous, you think. But not when it comes from that Cockney mouth. Not when he asks so nicely. Your cunt pulls, claws at him. 

"... I'll show you princess," you sigh, but it's only a second away from laughter. His fingers dig into your skin, the flush flesh of your ass. It feels possessive… Fond.

"Yeah. Show me. C'mon."

The camouflage gets slightly torn off by a wind of a smile. You can hear it on his lips. Sex should be fun, one of your friends always says. You had never thought about it like that. Bed is not the place for laughter and humor, you had thought. But now you are both on the brink of bursting with it.

"You're a fucking pretty one…" He grunts: a breathless, silent joy. "Know you want this as much as I do. Ain't that right?"

"Yes." 

"That's what I thought. So cum for me. Wanna hear the sounds you make."

You dance on the precipice already, and his voice causes your hand to shoot out to his. You drag that heated palm across your hips and your ribs, curl it next to you as if you were drawing a blanket over youself. It's a lover's caress, and his fingers slip between yours as he wraps around you like the protector that he is. 

Your walls flutter, the thickness inside you makes you swell with every thrust. His hips are relentless as he buries himself into you with blunt force, his flesh clapping against yours and making your cunt clamp down on him. Sweet, sweet, sweet, your blood sings as your lids drift closed. The wave is coming, the final tsunami that will sweep you with it, and you will only succumb with joy.

"Don't-stop," you hear yourself beg through the heavy pants he's grunting on your neck.

"'M not gonna stop," he grunts into your ear, serious now.

"Fuh–Fuck me good and… hard," you're hiccuping through dry tears. It feels like there's a hammer and an anvil placed between your ribs. "I need you hard-"

"Shit…"

You barely grasp that he's about to lose his precious control before the midnight sea takes you under. The world fades into a tight know of blue and white and black, electric, ambient, something soft and hot at the same time. You're choking on your tears, moaning into the pillow like a poor, broken, tortured cat. 

"That's fucking pretty," he swears on your neck as you cum. All humor is gone now, but he's not mocking you. He's just… emotional. The bulk of him rides you through the wave, but the rhythm of his hips becomes erratic. 

"That's it, pretty… I'm gonna…Fuck," he huffs on your skin, a mist of want, and the cockhead rubs something profound inside you and makes you jolt in the middle of your molten euphoria. He grunts, swears, and does it again - bludgeons so deep it forces out a sob, just before he breaks too with a choked, wet swallow and a groan. A trembling colossus, you think, as he thickens and bursts inside you.

You're an aching mess when he comes, his thighs pressing over yours and forcing them far and wide as he buries himself into you to the hilt. He's a behemoth, spasming and crumbling right above you. The broad abs bunch against your back while his hips pin you down and spread you open. The cock pulses inside you, and you are barely able to think how it's a miracle that both his thick flesh and the pool of cum, all of it, just somehow fits there inside you…

A gentle brute until the end, he swallows again, thick and breathless, before giving a few tight rolls of his hips, emptying himself to the last drop. Slowly, you both still inside your bubble of warm, dark blue, something akin to a sea between a tropical storm and a calm sunrise, a drowsy reef shifting with the waves. 

He's broken into a light sweat from the toil when he finally untangles your fingers. Your hips are kept in place with one hand as he slowly pulls out. You feel like you're left emptier than before, even if you feel the cum welling up inside, about to spill over.

Your bodyguard - your late-night fuck - collapses beside you, then reaches to pull you close again. Still back against his chest, still unable to look into your eyes when you're both vulnerable. 

"I'm gonna get you a towel," his fingers tremble as he caresses your arm with the most delicate touch. 

"No–don't, don't go," you whisper, then grab his hand and bring it back over you. You almost squeeze yourself with it. "Please?"

The tension behind your back decreases as he slowly falls back into bed.

"Alright love. I'll stay right here."

It's so peculiar how he reminds you of large water masses. A night sea under a pale moonlight. Not a stormy, roiling one, just a vast depth in an ever-swelling motion.

"I want… I need you to keep me safe," you whisper inside that swelling sea. You never want to come to the surface. You want to learn to breathe underwater. The heavy arm is draped over you; it covers nearly half of your chest as he sighs.

"Then let me do that."

His plea is not humble - nothing in this man is. He's not on one knee, swearing his allegiance and vowing to always protect you. He's not your Lancelot.

But in a way, his plea comes far too close to a beg. You feel a sting near your heart. It's electric, pure pain - the sweet kind, though, as you realize he doesn't only want to do his job… He wants to protect you. He has already tried his best to protect you while you run around like nothing is wrong. 

"Simon… I'm sorry."

"I already forgave you," he hums on your skin, evidently glad that you two finally understand each other. It should send you laughing, the thought that you needed his scars and his…treatment to find common ground. And free of charge, no less.

"Do you still wish you were somewhere warmer…?"

He bows his head against the nape of your neck, and the gush of air from his nose is warm and jovial. "No."

It's hours till dawn, but you wish it would never come. The beauty of the night is only now unfolding before you. It feels far more safe than the violent dawn. You wonder how he would react if you moaned his name as you cum. If he would shudder. You wonder what the hell is wrong with you that you didn't already do it...

"Simon…?"

"Mm..?"

"What happens now?"

There's a pause, but he doesn't shift for more comfort. Still, the bullet vests and battle gears are back on; you just sense it.

"We're gonna get some sleep."

"No, I meant… What does this mean for us?"

"What do you think it means?"

Now he shifts, but only to draw you closer. You feel like jello as he pulls your scent deep into his lungs, then exhales the grace on your skin like you're the only tobacco he needs after a good round of sex.

"Don't worry about it, princess," he murmurs on your skin. So delicately that you could claim this man has never even seen the army, never barked and shouted and smoked his throat dry. "We'll talk in the morning."

You settle into his sea, an embrace full of gentle, heavy safety. It's the sweetest oblivion to slip in as you begin a dreamless sleep, soft and snug. But it's not merciful enough to make you forget that you two… 

You never even kissed.

............................................

Taglist: @lialacleaf @cumikering @val-srz @glitterypirateduck @clear-your-mind-and-dream @milfs4lifee @regatoni1 @glossygreene @raf4el4 @xxmattyboixx @frozenballsack69 @gabygykss @chxrryp0p @sinnisterr @clairdelunelove @megumilover69 @littleobsessionsandlifeslessons @ayavaiia @thedevillovesflowers @tiny-kasper

[yanwriter-archive]

Can I request a yan! Soap, Ghost, and König all liking the same reader? Maybe they have a shared dislike for a new soldier trying to hit on her

Three stones, one bird.

Warnings: Obsessive love, Gore, manipulation

God must have cursed the blood in your veins for you to have caught the attention of three violent, scary, men like Soap, Ghost and König. Whether you think they could share is up to your personal wants, but once an outsider comes in view, especially someone as lowly as a rookie recruit? Their plans are now on hold until this problem is taken care of.

Soap is the most vocal of his distaste at first. It comes off of a casual jealousy, and it can even be seen as cute or silly. Yet, the pure hatred in his eyes tell a whole different story then what he lets on.

König tends to let it boil inside. Honestly, if you didn't see how intense his stare was when you were talking to them, you wouldn't know at all how he was feeling. That's how he wants it.

Ghost understands, he really does. Being on base so long and seeing someone as attractive as you? He can't fault them at all. But his tightly closed fists hovering over his knife when the recruit gets a little too close reminds them that it doesn't matter if he understands.

Now, the recruit still proceeds. Does he really think he can go up agist them? That he actually has a chance? Or is he just stupid. It really doesn't matter, because they take it as a threat.

-

The night is dark, and the chilly air slowly seeps into the building, leaving a draft. The hallway is dim, and most people have already left. You would have left too if the new recruit, Kevin, hadn't stopped you.

"Sorry, you're probably in a hurry to get back," he chuckles softly.

You shake your head. "It's okay, what did you need?"

"Well, I just wanted to..." His eyes raise up and he notices someone behind you. Before you can look, he continues in a much more confident manner. "Would you like to go out this Saturday?"

You pause to think about it. "Yeah, okay, sounds like fun!"

He glances back behind you, a prideful look in his eyes.

"Great! I'll text you the information!" He grabs your hand and places a kiss on your knuckle. "Until then, love." He leaves, giving a wink to the person behind you.

You turn to leave, realizing that Simon was behind you.

"Sorry! Didn't see you there!" You give a polite smile and head on your way.

Simon stays there for a while, his dark eyes lacking any emotion.

Ah, so not only is he an idiot, but he also thinks he has a chance and wants to brag about it.

Simon waits for a moment more before pulling out his phone.

-

Kevin awakes at the loud bang at his door. Slowly, he walks to the door. He knows who it is. You can't flirt with Ghost's interest and get away with it, but he knew that. Kevin almost laughs at how predictable Ghost is.

"I was wondering when you were going to show-" His words were knocked out of his mouth as soon as his door was opened. He didn't predict that Soap and König would be on the other side.

Blood leaked out of his mouth where soap had hit him, and he wondered if he really did fuck up.

"What happened to your smugness? Thought you were askin' for a fight?" Soap stepped into his room. "I've been wantin' to do this for a long while." Soap says, stretching out the word long.

"Pathetic." König's voice rung out, rattling Kevins body. "You thought you were actually good enough for them? You aren't even good enough to feed the worms that live underneath the soil they stand on."

"Are you seriously doing this because of one person? You're fucking crazy." Kevin spits out some blood, "Listen I'm sorry, I was just trying to bang a hot-" His voice was cut off once again by soap's fist, sending him lying on the floor.

"Maybe you only hang around sleezy people, but they aren't somethin' you just bang." Soap sends another punch, this time sending two teeth down Kevin's throat. "Scum."

His scream rings out as König's heavy boot comes down on his leg, a sicking snap following. "It's also unforgivable if you say that you just want to fool her and break her heart."

The sheer force of König's stomp had broken his leg in half.

A new voice appears, as loud footsteps enter the room.

"You learn your lesson?" Simon questions, his eyes holding that same look as before.

"Yes! Please stop, please!" Kevin cries out.

"Good." Simon reaches a hand for Kevin to take. He grabs it, hoping to be pulled up and brought to get help, but his hope is crushed when Ghost yanks him, twisting his arm and swiftly breaking it too.

"Stay the fuck away from them."

-

You were feeling sour as Sunday arrived. Kevin had gotten into a fight with another new recruit and ended up with a broken arm and leg. On top of that, he would rather run away than admit that he completely ignored you all week.

Your mood shifted when Soap suggested hanging out with Ghost, König, and him. That sounded better than spending time with someone like Kevin. Besides, you always felt safer when you were with them.

At least that's what they wanted you to think.

A/N Note: I'm not feeling this one, but I figured I post it anyways.

[xo-cod]

https://www.tumblr.com/xo-cod/738798264594415616/141-k%C3%B6nig-sex-bloopers

sorry yeah that's it i meant irl it's not perfect and stuff happens sometimes :) whatever ignore this im silly

you're not silly, i loved this :') <3 this might be cringe and it's ooc/rushed/headcannons but LMAOO i tried my best :") nsfw/sfw ahead!

part 2

the not so sexy moments of sex with the 141

price trying to be all sexy and suave loosening his top and removing his bucket hat in an act of seduction which results in him stubbing his toe and yelping in pain for a good few minutes

gaz panicking at the thought of his cum going into your eye after a blowjob and proceeding to scare himself for days on the off-chance you develope some sort of eye infection

soap after getting slightly confused with what he was doing grabbed a diagram of a vagina and made you hold it so he could have better success rate of making you cum

simon screeching loudly after snapping on his latex condom a little harder than recommended. bear with him, he has to take a few minutes, his body took a screenshot from how intense it was

price ending up falling asleep during a hand job but in his defence he was on five days with three hours of sleep and a whole bunch of coffee that was keeping him going

gaz very confidently and with that half smirk of his, mid way giving you the best head asking you if you're about to have an organism

soap realizing very quickly that food play is not like the movies and that it stings/burns, proceeds to awkwardly hop and waddle into the bathroom

simon trying be all cute and romantic which results in him spooning you close to his body, only to proceed to hack and choke when he inhaled your hair by accident

price having the lack of coordination after he tried to undress himself trying to come over to the bed and ending up face planting into the floor with a huge thud and a string of curse words following by (this mans just stays falling LMAO)

gaz genuinely ashamed about tearing your expensive lingerie in his excitement that he gives himself a time out and learns the true meaning patience

simon, bless his heart, already breaking the bedframe in his excitement when he grabbed you and pinned you against it.

gaz frantically trying to get it back it up, cussing his cock out and trying to awkwardly laugh but it comes out as a cry for help

simon slamming his forehead into the doorframe when he tried to be all hot and sexy, proceeding to cut himself and cuss everything out within a 10 mile radius (never you though :3)

soap's confidence absolutely obliterating when he was so turned on he ended up cumming while trying to get inside you

gaz making you take a survey after sex and telling you to rate the experience and what he could improve on next time

simon absolutely enraged at the mark on your neck thinking someone had hurt you, completely forgetting he was the one to leave it on you and it was a hickey

soap falling asleep while trying to go down on you after he finished a long mission. his head was buried between the warmth and comfort of your thighs and his eyes fell like shutters, nuzzling deep unconsciously into your heat

simon just zoning out when staring at your tits, lost in a trance and you're wondering if he's going to actually touch them. he does so but after a good 15 minutes

price squeezing your tiddies to paw at them and get them all perky but ends up feeling your ribs in the darkness and gets excited.

soap just poking at your nipple mid thrust in pure curiosity. not even to flick or pinch them, just a small poke before he goes back to doing what he was doing

gaz having a sneezing fit when he tried to lick your neck and chest only to be allergic to the perfume you were wearing

[moody-alcoholic]

Gala

Double upload since I have to focus on my main project now which mean's it's going to be at least a week till I can work on this again. It's a juicy one though please forgive me <3

MDNI 18+ content

Summary: Ghoap x Reader, throuple. Slow burn (sorry but not sorry). 3.7k words. Reader is female (she/her), army nurse, non descript physical features, names used: Ashe.

CW: MDNI 18+ content Smut, blowjob, fingering, alcohol, assault, assault with a deadly weapon (kinda), toxic family dynamic(not reader), hazing, mentions of vomit, hurt/comfort, angst. Little bit of everything here :p

Previous parts - masterlist - next part

Enjoy ya filthy animals <3

“I don’t care who knows, besides it’s not a work event it’s just a stupid show off party.” Johnny said. 

“I care Johnny, I’m going with Price so it is a work event.” Simon replied as he came out the bathroom. “Look, I’ll compromise at telling Price but I don’t need the rest of the fucking world to know our business.” You hear the bedroom door slam muffling their voices. They’d been spatting for the good part of twenty minutes and it was the first time you felt like you were probably not meant to be there.

Instead you just pretended to pay attention to whatever was happening on the TV until you hear the door open and close again. You look over to check who it is then back at the TV. Johnny makes his way over to you flopping down on the sofa. You look over at him playing with his wedding ring.

“I can go home.” You say, he turns to look at you. 

“Don’t be silly c'mere.” He says reaching over and pulling you up against him. He kisses the top of your head stroking your back. A few minutes later you hear the door to the bedroom open. Simon walks through the flat in front of the TV to the balcony door, with a cigarette hanging out his mouth. It’s dark outside, he goes out the door closing it behind him, you see him light the cigarette. The pit forms in your stomach, you feel like you’re invading their privacy. They would ask you to leave if they wanted you too.

You sigh wrapping your arm round Johnny’s chest. He doesn't say anything, you watch out the window seeing the end of Simon’s cigarette light up now and then. Simon's had a long day, been doing paperwork now he’s being forced to go to this stupid event, and with only 24 hours notice. It is stupid, God it was pure unfortunate luck that you happened to be in the same shopping centre on the same day as Chloe. Maybe you could convince them not to go. No that wouldn’t work Simon was right it was a work engagement for him. You watch Simon stamp the cigarette out coming back through the door. He walks over to the sofa, you follow him till he disappears out your line of sight. You feel Johnny move, trying to keep as still as possible. You hear Simon kiss him, that makes you relax, at least they’re not mad at each other. A few seconds later Simon sits on the sofa he pulls you out of Johnny’s arms onto his chest, you feel Johnny scoot closer so he can reach Simon. 

“We really don’t have to go.” You say out loud. Simon kisses the top of your head. 

“If only it were that simple.” He replies sighing, you stroke his chest, he's so tense. You pretend to pay attention to what’s happening on the TV. Some game show, you move to look up at Simon, he looks back down at you smiling, he seems a little relaxed after his cigarette, you lean up and kiss him. You just wanted a quick kiss but he pulls your face up pushing his tongue in your mouth, he tastes of ash, you don’t care. You feel Johnny’s hand run up your back working it’s way round to cup your breast, it’s like they’ve already communicated with each other, working in sync to touch your body. You find your hand moving down Simon’s body as Johnny’s fingers brush over your nipple. You kiss Simon deeper, becoming more eager, your hand slips into his pants you feel how hard he is already. You pull away from the kiss.

“Let me make you feel good again?” You ask looking up at him. He nods, you move so you’re on your hands and knees your ass in Johnny’s face. He doesn't seem to mind pulling your PJ shorts and underwear down to your knees. Your hand frees Simon’s cock and you waste no time locking your lips around the red tip hearing him moan as his head falls back. Johnny’s fingers brush your clit sending sparks up your body. Johnny doesn’t stop pushing two fingers into you, you clench round him which only makes him push them in deeper hitting that sensitive spot while his other hand plays with your clit. You thrust your mouth up and down as Simon runs his fingers through your hair. 

“She can tell when you need to de-stress Simon.” Johnny says. 

“Doesn’t mean you can slack off.” Simon replies, that makes you smile as you feel him react to your change in speed. You would ride it out longer if you weren’t so distracted by Johnny’s fingers all over you, you’re struggling to focus, moaning around Simon’s hard cock, your mouth filling with saliva as he hits the back of your throat.

It’s sloppy, messy almost rough as you try to keep from clenching round him with your teeth, but it's just what he needs. His hips start thrusting into you making Johnny’s fingers move faster. You whimper as you get closer to the edge tears streaming down your face, you don’t stop it feels too good and you know if you make Simon feel good Johnny will make you feel good too.

Simon’s grip on your hair gets tighter and you feel him twitch in your mouth. Johnny’s rubbing, faster his fingers thrusting in and out of your dripping cunt. Fuck, you’re going to cum if he keeps this up. You can feel Simon is close too. Maybe Johnny is trying to time it with him, it’s only when you feel yourself coming you realise Johnny and Simon are making out.

You don’t have time to think about it as Simon fills your mouth, you take him deep feeling each twitch as he pants in Johnny’s neck. You feel Johnny’s fingers pull out as you turn to lean up against the back of the couch, breaking Johnny and Simon apart. You want to feel bad but you’re too blissed out to care. Simon looks down at you leaning to kiss your forehead, your eyes switch to Johnny.

“Give me a second,” you say panting. 

“Don’t be silly lass, I’m more then fine.” He says getting off the couch before you can protest. You see him put his hand down his pants, and the stain soaked down his leg as he walks away. You could have sworn you felt both his hands on you. You sit up confused as he winks at you heading to the bathroom. You hear Simon chuckle behind you as he also gets up off the couch. You pull your bottoms back up trying to figure out what just happened.  

 —————————— 

“Uncomfortable fucking dress.” You say hitching it up as you walk along the gravel path to Chloe’s massive childhood house. 

“How many times have you been here?” Johnny asks his arm looped round yours. 

“Too many to count, before things went even more south with her family we used to spend a lot of time here.” You say. You were nervous and not just because this party was way out of your comfort zone or the fact that you were going to be surrounded by so many officials, it was that Johnny and Simon insisted on explaining the relationship situation to Price and now you were going to meet him for the first time.  

You walk up to the massive entrance butlers standing on the door, you take a champagne flute off the tray nodding at them. You sip it as you walk over to Chloe’s family greeting everyone in the entrance, you wait your turn to walk up to them.

“Very fancy.” Johnny leans in whispering, you smile sipping your champagne.

“Oh sergeant, so happy you could make it!” Chloe’s mother says as she kisses your cheek.

“It has been so long since we have seen you.” You smile accepting the hug. 

“I’ve been busy.” You say. 

“And who is this young man.” She asks looking him up and down.

“This is John-sergeant MacTavish, SAS.” You say hoping she would ignore the hiccup, you look over at Chloe who is sipping a glass of something as she taps her foot. 

“Another SAS soldier how lucky are we! Mark come over here say hello!” She waves Chloe’s brother over, he’s taller then you remember he walks over to Johnny putting his hand out Johnny shakes it. He introduces himself and talks about his unit you’re not listening, you’re trying to catch Chloe’s attention. 

“Well we’re so glad you can make it, there are more drinks out back.” Chloe’s mum says eagerly. You nod and head out to the garden, Chloe smiles at you on the way. 

“Know him?” You ask Johnny. 

“Fucking reserves.” He replies, you scoff finishing your empty glass and placing it on a butlers tray. You head to the bar and each pick up a drink then find a quiet corner of the party to people watch. Johnny doesn’t let go of your hand as you lean back on the fence. The garden is full, lots of people in formals, you're glad it's only officers needed to wear them, formals are definitely not the most comfortable.

“What you expected?” You ask him. He shakes his head sipping his drink. The atmosphere seems relaxed as your eyes move over to the live band.

“Different tax bracket.” He says, you chuckle. “How come Chloe’s so down to earth?” 

“She’s had it tough, she’s the youngest of 5, her parents would always pressure her into what they wanted her to do, which made her go harder in a different direction.” You sip your drink. “Moved out when she was 16 lived on her own without her parents support ever since, only ever comes back here for family events like tonight.” 

“This seems like more then a family event.” Johnny says. 

“You should see their Christmases and new years.” You say laughing. Johnny straightens up as you spot Simon in the crowd. He looks good in formals, almost too good. Johnny leaves you to walk up to him and bring Simon and an older gentleman towards you. 

“Price this is Ashe.” Johnny says, you put out your hand to shake his.

“It’s good to finally put a name to the face.” You say trying not to blush as Johnny’s hand finds it’s way to the small of your back.

“I read your file, army nurse?” He says. 

“Yes, sir,” You nod, you hear Simon chuckle. You look up at Johnny who nods. You’re about to open your mouth to speak when you hear the squeaking of a mic and the music slowly stop. Everyone turns to look at Chloe’s mum beginning to give a speech as the crowd moves forward, you can’t see Chloe though. You listen as she introduces herself and runs through that will happen and when the auction will start. Something catches the corner of your eye. You look over at the outhouse watching the door close. There is a pit of dread forming.

“You okay?” Johnny asks as you’re twisting your body. You look back up at him nodding. 

“I’m just going to use the bathroom.” You say, Johnny nods stepping up to join Price and Simon as you slip out towards the outhouse. You could have sworn you saw Chloe maybe she has a guy in here maybe they’re having sex. You hope it’s sex, because you haven’t seen her since you got here and she’s not on the stage with the rest of her family.      

“Chloe? You in there?” you ask as you push the door in. It’s unlocked, you pull your shawl tighter round you as you walk in, the lights are on. 

“I don’t care if you’re having sex, but you're missing your mums shit speech.” You say trying to squash your nerves. When you round the corner you see 4 boys looking at you one with their hands over Chloe’s mouth another with a pistol in his hand. 

“What the fuck is going on!?” You shout. 

“Come on it’s just a bit of fun.” One of the boys says with a beer in his hands he’s slurring his words. American.

“Yeah a bit of basic hazing.” The one with the gun says waving it around, you duck, holding your hand up. Please for the love of God be a fake gun.

“Hazing? This isn’t a fucking frat house! Put the fucking gun down before you shoot someone.” You say making your way over to Chloe who’s makeup is running down her face from tears.

“Jack said she needed it,” One says. You scoff, pulling the guys hand off her mouth. Of course it was fucking Jack behind this. 

“Hey, fuck you.” The guy behind you says as you wrap your shawl around Chloe. He pushes your shoulder. Fuck you’re too tipsy for this, at least the adrenaline hasn’t let you down yet. You turn to look at him and before you can stop yourself punch him in the face. It’s not hard and you almost miss but it’s enough to make him back off. Then you feel the butt of the pistol hit the side of your face. Fuck that hurt. But you’re still on your feet you turn to look, the guy looks freaked out.

“Put it down before you shoot someone!” You say again steadying yourself and then wrapping your arm round Chloe. You just need to get her out of here. She leans into you as you start to walk to the exit. There’s no way they’ll shoot you it’s just boys being stupid. When you’re outside you welcome the cool air, and the cover of darkeness as you walk to the kitchen backdoor away from the party, still gathered on the back lawn. There are waitstaff mulling around but they pay no mind to you, you take her through to the dining room leaving the door open so you don’t have to turn the light on. 

“Stay here I’ll be back in a sec.” You go into the kitchen to get a glass of water and pick up a glass of champagne for yourself. 

“Here,” you pass her the water and she sips it shaking. “Do you want me to get your mum-maybe not her-your dad?” Chloe shakes her head. 

“You’re going to bruise.” She slurs pointing at where the gun hit your head. You reach your fingers up it hurts to touch. 

“Yeah I’ll just say I got it having really good sex.” You try to lighten the mood. That makes her smile as she sips the water. 

“You want to come and stay at my place?” You ask. She nods. 

“Okay let me go find Johnny and we’ll get out of here, stay here okay.” She nods putting the glass on the table. You down the glass of champagne, now the adrenaline was wearing off and you’re remembering how tipsy you were. You make your way back out looking for Johnny or Simon in the sea of bodies, you spot Johnny from a mile away even with his back turned. You grab his shoulder and he turns to you still mid conversation. You take one look at him and his face goes grim. You want to put your arms out to stop him but it’s too late he’s gripping your arm pulling your chin up so he can get a better look. 

“I’m fine,” you say trying to swat him away. You hear him calling Simon over, Christ, you don’t want to cause a scene. 

“Just come.” You say pulling his arm into the building.

“What happened?” He asks, you don’t want to say anything till you’re away from the party so you keep leading him through the kitchen to the dining room. Chloe is still sat at the table with your shawl round her. 

“Some cunt’s got a bit too excited, I just want to get her home can we leave?” He nods looking at Chloe. 

“You okay?” Johnny asks her, she nods. His face turns back to you touching the red mark on your face, you try not to wince but can't help pulling away from his touch. 

“Fuck, let me get Simon then we’ll leave.” He says going out the room, you pull a chair out next Chloe. 

“What you going to do?” You ask her. She looks at you for a second then at the floor. 

“What fight Jack on his own turf?” She chuckles. 

“I could press charges, assault with a deadly weapon.” You say, she shakes her head. 

“They were only joking, they’re kids, grass on them it’ll end their careers.” She says.

“Yeah, damn right it should, they attacked you, attacked me.” You were angry. “One of them is running around with a fucking gun.” 

“Leave it, you don’t have to fix everything, it’s just stupid kids being kids.” She says her voice laced with something, annoyance? sadness? You’re too drunk to tell, too worked up to care. Johnny and Simon walk into the room before you can respond. Simon doesn’t say a word just steps over to you pulling your chin up, you look in his eyes, they’re burning into you looking round your face. 

“I’m fine Simon.” You say he drops your chin turning to walk out the room. “Simon!” You get up out the chair going to the door.

“Who’s Simon?” Chloe asks, you turn back to look at her rubbing your head feeling the throbbing start, the adrenaline has definitely worn off now. You didn’t have the energy to explain all this to Chloe tonight, she’s probably too drunk to remember anyway. You grab Johnny’s arm pulling him round the other side of the door.

“She was attacked, by some American frat boys, trying to haze her or something, she doesn’t want to do anything about it.” You explain quietly.

“What about you?” Johnny asks.

“One of them pistol whipped me, I’m fine.” you say gripping his arm. 

“One of them has a gun!?” He says gritting his teeth trying not to talk too loud. You look past Johnny seeing Simon and Price in the kitchen doorway. 

“Johnny, I just want to get home.” You say, feeling drained. He sighs pulling you into his arms.

“We’re going home don’t worry.” You wrap your arms round him as he kisses your head. You close your eyes breathing him in, you feel a wave of emotions, you can’t cry now not here not in front of Johnny and Simon. Later. You promise yourself. You feel more hands on you, you’re too woozy to pay attention.

“I’ve got her, go get Chloe.” You feel yourself transferred into Simon’s arms. You lean into him as he walks you out to the front entrance. Price is already stood with a car door open Simon helps you in the back then gets into the front passenger seat. A few seconds later you feel Chloe and Johnny get in the car. 

“You’re cute.” You hear Chloe say. 

“She get’s flirty when she’s drunk.” You say resting your head on the window. 

“I can tell,” Johnny says as he struggles to try and attach her seat belt as she flirts with him. 

“Where to?” Price asks. 

“Our place.” Simon says. You can’t help but look into the rear view mirror Price’s eyes meet yours. You look a way, what an embarrassment you must look. Price starts to drive, you listen to Chloe flirt with Johnny the whole way. At one point she tried to climb in the front seat to flirt with Simon and Price. 

“Man why are all you military guys so fucking hot!” She slurs as Johnny pulls her back. 

“That’s one reason to join,” You whisper under your breath. When you get back to their flat you help Johnny get her out the car. Closing the door behind you Simon stays in the car for a little longer. You help Johnny get her to the front entrance man she’s drunk, she can barely walk. You hear a door close and feel Simon’s arms round your waist, as you all stumble in the lift. You lean into Simon’s touch enjoying his hands being on your body. 

“You bunk with her, we’ll take the spare room.” Simon says, as you get into the flat.

“No let me take the spare room with her.” You say breaking from Simon’s grip walking over to take her out of Johnny’s arms. She sounds disappointed as you walk her to the spare room. You go in throwing her on the bed you walk back out into the bathroom. 

“What about your head?” Johnny asks following you take the bucket out the cupboard. 

“I’m fine,” You lie your head has been pounding since you left the party. “Besides if you get into bed with her she might try and fuck you.” 

“You know where we are if you need us.” Simon says putting his arms round Johnny’s waist pulling him towards their room. You nod going into the bedroom putting the bucket on her side of the bed. You strip her down to her underwear and go into the kitchen to get a glass of water. Simon and Johnny’s door is not fully closed. You pause for a second almost wanting to leave Chloe and just curl up into bed with them instead, you push the thought away going into the spare room putting the glass on her side.

She’s passed out already you tuck her body into the bed going back out into the bathroom. You look at your head in the mirror, yeah that’s going to leave a nice bruise you brush your teeth getting the taste of alcohol out your mouth. While you’re swilling your mouth out you hear her heaving in the bedroom, dropping the brush and running back to the room to make sure she’s getting it in the bucket and not all over the bed. You rub her back as she spills her guts. After the first round, she begins sobbing all you can do is rub her back and encourage her to take sips of water. You empty the bucket once, twice. Eventually she falls asleep again and you crawl into bed next to her, your head throbbing, a pit in your stomach. You knew this party was a terrible idea.

Next part

[aspoetssay]

sunny's thoughts:

ghost admiring his marks in the mirror, nsfw 18+

pairing: simon “ghost” riley x f!reader

The scars on his body carried so much pain that he tried to bury them aside—the nightmares reminded him of every one of them, but that didn’t matter. Not when he was admiring the fresh red marks moving all the way down from his shoulders.

Crescent marks were left on his shoulder blades - a reminder of the pain that felt too good—he gulped. It wasn’t enough - he wanted to see his whole back. Taking a small mirror from the counter he placed it behind him, turning it so he could view through it the crimson on his back.

Fuck—they were so beautiful.

“Eyes on me, doll, come on,” he slightly tapped your cheeks as your eyes were focused on the swinging of his dog tags. Eyes slightly crossing, the little furrow between your eyebrows and your mouth, just slightly agape, showed how scrambled your brain already was.

Your legs positioned at the sides of your head, knees to your chest as he was pounding his cock into you so deliciously, making you slowly drift away from reality and think about him. The way your spongy walls were pulsating against him, trying to push him out—too much too much too much—on the edge of your fourth orgasm you were going to crumble completely.

But he didn’t intend to stop. With a sharp trust, you could feel the way the tip of his cock was bullying your cervix. The pain was burning, but good, too good—you couldn’t even think about it. Your eyes finally raised, meeting his eyes and he couldn’t help, but chuckle mockingly.

The wide, teary eyes of yours were showing how fragile you were. It was almost silly that he was barely done with you and you were already overstimulated. It turned him even more on, that was fucked up of him, he knew that, but when you looked at him like that—

“Atta girl.” He praised, meeting your frantic nodding as you sucked his praises into yourself as a sponge. Completely under his control. He could have you undone with just his voice.

The grip on your thighs only tightened—he’ll leave marks and he’ll kiss them every day after. His thrusts quickened—moans got stuck in the back of your throat, the sounds of his pelvis snapping against yours - wet and sinful - it was too much. Your hands gripped his biceps, moving forwards, wrapping your hands around him and digging your nails into his skin, moving them down—

The memory of the previous night made him lick his lips slightly—you marked him so beautifully. At the corner of his eye, he was forced to turn his stare from his marks to the doorway, where you stood, leaning to the wall.

In his shirt—so fucking pretty. You had a bit of trouble walking this day and any type of clothing seemed to piss you off when you were that sore, so his shirt was like a haven, much to your and his pleasure.

And if he wasn’t a sight to see—that man was pure muscle and scars. Body trained to be a soldier and it was visible. His beauty put Michelangelo’s David into deep deep shame and you felt so smug to be the one to get lost in his soul and beauty alone.

“I’m sorry, love, was I too rough?” You mockingly asked the same phrase he always asked you after sex. The man chuckled, leaning slightly back on the counter of the sink, eyeing you up and down.

His marks were nothing compared with what he left on you.

“Got the tongue right there for someone who couldn’t stand up this morning.”

Rolling your eyes, you scoffed and moved to stand in front of him. His calm gaze looked at you, his hands already on your body, pulling you even closer.

Your eyes moved to the fresh marks on his biceps and a few hickeys and bite marks along his collarbone. He really let you mark him however you wished while he fucked you into oblivion.

Gently touching the hickey you left at the nape of his neck, you noticed the way his skin gently shivered, making you smile a bit. You took the chance and gently, with a feather-like touch you moved down his chest, down to his toned stomach and even lower—

Sucking in a breath, he mumbled: “Wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

Innocently you fluttered your eyelashes at him. He could see right through you, but he couldn’t resist you. “M’just admiring you.”

Hooking your fingers at the edge his sweats, you pulled him closer into a kiss—lazy and slow. He responded eagerly, pulling you closer, but moving slightly with you out of the bathroom. His tongue swirled around your lips, humming into the kiss:

“I’ll be gentle—promise,” he mumbled into your mouth, his lips already moving down to your chin, leaving wet kisses.

“I’ll worship you,” he whispered, kissing the hickey on your neck from the last night as if he tried to reason with you to go down on you. As if you could say no—you wanted him so much even if your whole body couldn’t handle anymore.

Wrapping your hands around him, you let out a breathy moan, feeling the muscles flex underneath your touch. “Keep up to your word now, will you?”

The grin on his face—so fucking wicked and sinful made you feel as if you were with the devil himself. But as if you should care—not when his words made you melt into a puddle.

“That’s my good fuckin’ girl.”