Hare(sy)

The man can talk; his mouth is filthy and blunt in a way that Nikolai enjoys, but John never moans or makes any actual noise to ensure Nik that he's enjoying himself.

Thus, the pilot approaches him with a plan in mind.

Sucking John's cock is something Nikolai loves doing. He likes getting wet, messy and loud about it. Trailing his tongue along the underside of the man's cock and sucking at the head as he strokes his hand over what isn't in his mouth.

He likes the deep furrow between John's brows as he stares at the ceiling, gaze far gone. He likes the way the man's thighs twitch, quivering as he digs his heels into the mattress. It's the only warning he gets that the lieutenant is going to cum before he shoots ropes into Nik's mouth, and he's left to swallow the mess.

Only, for once, he doesn't pull away. Not as John's cock begins to soften in his mouth or as the man's legs fall flat against the bed.

He bobs his head over the other man's spit-slickened cock and coaxes it back to hardness even as John sucks a breath through his teeth, abdominal muscles clenching as his foot jerks and catches Nikolai's thigh.

"Shit, I'm done. Nik, I'm done."

Nikolai keeps going.

He keeps going even as he hears the hitched, gasping noises John makes as if every breath is being punched out of his chest. As the man's hands tremble, his fingers fight to curl against the hard mattress.

He keeps going as John's expression contorts through confusion, irritation and agonised pleasure. Hips spasming, fighting between bucking up into Nikolai's mouth and trying to pull away from the man entirely.

When the other man jolts, Nikolai plants his hands on his hips to still him and his futile efforts against the unrelenting pleasure he's being subjected to.

"Fuck, it's too much."

The shock almost stops Nikolai in his efforts, the whine in John's tone as his tears rim his eyes, and his thighs shudder by the Russian's head. Until he catches sight of John's hand, racked with tremors as he reaches out for Nikolai's hair, only to drop it back onto the mattress.

Then he doubles down on his efforts.

The second time John cums, the man convulses.

His back arches off of the bed, nostrils flaring as his limbs tense until Nikolai can make out every vein against his sweat-damp skin. John's nails pierce the pilot's shoulder as though he's gripping his only anchor, his orgasm pulled through his wailing pleas and shuddering, keening moans as he floods Nikolai's mouth. Only when he swallows around the lieutenant, do salty tears trail down the other man's cheeks.

When John's back hits the mattress, the man is panting like he ran a marathon, and he's flushed from the tips of his ears down to his chest.

"No more."

His voice is ruined, and he looks the picture of fucked out, exactly how Nikolai wanted him.

"You can make noise."

It takes John a while to even register the statement, over his heart pounding in his ears and the black that had begun to overtake his vision. The laugh that breaks free from his chest is hoarse and bordering on hysterical.

"That's what that was for? Bloody hell, Nik. Just ask, you don't have to suck my soul out of my cock if you want to hear me."

Deep in the back of John's mind, he knows that it's fruitless. Now that Nikolai knows how far he can bend John without breaking him, he'll never relent.

Imagine sharing a wall with ghost now that you practically live on base, walls too thin to really keep any privacy, right?

You hear everything that happens in ghosts room, and sometimes you can even hear when he's watching a nature documentary at three in the morning.

"Fuckin' hell..." it also means you can hear him pleasure himself.

You know that ghost has a fleshlight of some sort he uses, and christ you can't help but imagine what it he looks like using it. Wet squelches and grunts travel across your wall, accompanied by the occasional "yeah, there you go, love. Jus' like that–" when he gets really into the fantasy.

You've seen ghosts cock before, impossible not to when you work with him so often.

Thick, physically heavy with the way it hangs between his legs even soft. There's the faintest thatch of dirty blonde hair, cute when paired with his loose foreskin. A nice rosyness—

"Fuckkkk!! Yeah, yes—" ghost grunts, and you imagine his back arching off the bed with the sheer pleasure in his voice. What you wouldn't give to see him all flushed and desperate. "Mghhh–! Ahhh–!!"

Ah, a quick one today. The thought makes you flush, both embarrassed and oddly proud that you know exactly how ghosts day has been based off the sounds of his jerking off.

You settle in to hear him clean up and....oh? No sound of drawers sliding open, or water running in his bathroom, or...anything. a quick zipper, the latch of his door.

...no lock.

Ghosts fleshlight....freshly used...sitting in his unlocked room.

You shouldn't. It's an invasion of privacy. Its fucking perverted. Its disgusting and will certainly get you killed if anyone finds out.

Only for him to end up rutting against the matress while you straddle the back of his thighs, pushing your whole body weight behind your palms to work out the tough muscle.

You never see John relax like this, groaning in delight when you push particularly hard at the spine. Every thrust of his hips has his ass grinding against your crotch, not that you mind when he's so soft and pliant.

You doubt your old man will be up for anything more than a nap after this but...doesn't mean you can't imagine all these delighted sounds in your room afterwards.

The shudder and high keen he lets loose when he cums in his briefs will permanently haunt you.

After several very loud declarations of, "Get it right roon ye."

The occasional, "Christ, the only baws he plays wae are hus ain."

And shots after every goal, Kyle's both drunk and delighted to be included in the celebrations when Scotland wins the match, everyone inside seems willing to talk to the strangers around them about the match. He even gets a "Yer no bad fir a wee Englishman" from an older gentleman who buys him and Johnny a pint when he clocks them as military.

Later, Kyle will forever treasure a blurry video on his phone of himself, Johnny, and the countless faces of people he'll never meet again, roaring along to 500 Miles, all various stages of drunk and red in the face. It should be embarrassing, clinging to a stranger's shoulder and belting out tunes while slightly off tune, but Kyle will always remember the smile on Johnny's face and the light in his eyes.

He thinks a lot about the way Johnny's hands stilled on his own as the man passed over a cigarette outside, the way he hooked a finger around Kyle's pinkie just to keep contact between them.

Him on top, of course, one arm nestled under your torso and holding you close. The other slung above his head, forearm resting just above you in a lazy sprawl.

You've learned that this is his go-to position after eating. Something about a fully belly and feeling safe, warm in your presence just makes him too tired for the more ambitious stuff you usually do. Ghost would much rather lie on top of you, squishing you under his massive figure.

"Fuckin hell— hold still, lovie." Ghost groans when you squirm at a particularly harsh thrust. Not like you could actually go anywhere when he completely settles his weight into you and switches from thrusts to grinding.

"W– what–? Si...c'mon, baby you promised...!" You groan, huffs because he had promised to fuck you earlier!

"I'm inside you, ain't i?" He grunts, slinking the other arm under you too for a proper cuddle, the heavy thickness of his cock still deep inside.

"Yeah, but you know thats not what I— uh....simon? Si...? Oh my god—" steady snoring above you.

Of course he decided now was the best time to nap. Fucking food coma again.

https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZP8yTfqPr/

-🌟

König x afab!reader, noncon, kidnapping, forced oral, bondage, deprivation torture, forced peeing, vibrator, mindbreak vibes

link to the video here (implied kidnapping and vibrator fun)

König cradles your cheeks in his hands. Over the duct tape, your skin is shiny with tears, swollen, your eyes leaking new ones as quickly as he swipes them away.

"Oh, my love, don't worry," he says, and you blink dumbly up at him. You still haven't learned German yet, no matter how often he croons to you in his native language. "I'll be gentle."

john price who enjoys nothing more than watching how flustered his girl gets over him.

he's always complimenting her, telling her how pretty she is all the time and somehow she never gets used to it.

he loves how her eyes look everywhere but his when he says something sweet to her.

"you just look stunning in that dress, love. can't look away from you."

"give me a twirl, won't you?"

and you do.

you feel your cheeks heat up as you twirl for him and when your eyes finally look up to meet his again you see the soft look in his eyes and a small smile on his face.

he lifts a hand up and beckons for you to come over to him, a teasing glint in his eyes.

when you walk over he places both hands firmly on your waist and squeezes gently.

"knew you'd listen to me," he says cheekily.

"john!" you say as you playfully smack his hands away.

he laughs as he reaches out to run his hands over your waist.

"so gorgeous, love. i mean it. how am i meant to keep my hands off you all night when you look like this?" he groans.

"who said you had to?" you say as you wrap your hands over his and guide them where you want them.

The blinds are still closed but sunlight peeks through them anyways.

Your bed is warm with shared body heat.

A heavy, hairy arm is wrapped around your middle.

How you love waking up so softly.

You don’t move, not wanting the moment to end.

A kiss to your shoulder lets you know your husband is awake behind you. The scratch of his beard has your cheeks warming.

His hand travels up, landing on your hip.

You smile.

Not a word is said as you scoot back into him, feeling his chest press against your bare back.

You sigh, feeling right where you need to be.

Your eyes flutter closed once again.

Price squeezes at your arm, his knuckles brushing your skin.

Softly his kisses continue. Another to your shoulder, one to the curve of your neck, the last under your ear.

Your heart beats a little quicker in your chest.

His fingers follow the curve of your waist down to your thigh, giving it a teasing squeeze. The cold metal of his wedding band sharp against warmth of his rough palm.

A familiar coil begins to tighten in your stomach as he drifts his hand over your breast. Lazily teasing the little peaks on your chest with slow passes back and forth.

You hum softly, a sound of pleasure.

His fingers ghost down your stomach, making you twitch at the gentle sensation.

His fingers grip into your thigh, just enough to press small dents into your skin.

Like instinct, your legs spread open.

You lick your lips, watching his veiny hand travel lower.

Carefully his fingers brush into the soft curls of your bush, one finger tip pressing into your folds.

Tapping his fingers to your sensitive bud, each gentle slap makes you jolt at the contact.

His calloused finger dips, gathering wetness only to come and spread it over your sensitive clit in a slow tortuous circle.

You inhale, sharp and quick.

Another kiss to your shoulder grounds you.

You lean back into Price, your eyes fluttering closed as he begins to trace unhurried deliberate circles between your legs.

Your hips move and wiggle trying to follow the friction.

The pressure of an orgasm builds deep inside you at his practiced touch, but dies all too fast each time, you get close. Right before you fall of that cliff, Price pulls you back in with a bigger pass of his fingers, teasing you entrance with a single swipe.

He slows his pace down more, circle by circle until his hand comes to a complete stop.

Allowing you to rut against his hand at the pace you want to.

You take the opportunity to press down into his hand, shamelessly grinding with a gentle slow rock.

Breathy moans and whimpers escape your lips, your mouth forming an O shape as you feel that flicker in your stomach turn into a solid wave of pleasure.

Your first orgasm hitting you so early in the morning your legs feel like they get electrocuted. A tingling sensation so intense you’re unable to curl your toes.

But he doesn’t stop.

His hand cups you entirely, his middle finger teasing your slit with a dip between your folds.

A knuckle dipping into your cunt.

Barely giving you what you want.

What you need.

You gasp, throbbing for something more. Your heels push against the mattress trying to persuade his thick fingers deeper inside you.

When suddenly, he pulls out once again.

Leaving you empty.

You whine in complaint.

Price shifts behind you, his eyes darting to the clock on his bedside table.

A shiver runs through you as his hand lands back on your thigh, still wet from your slick.

He leans back in, the bed creaking under his weight as his lips meet the back of your head.

“Gotta go to work love.”

He murmurs, and just like that the beautiful pleasure making your thighs tremble disappears as Price throws off the covers and stands up.

To your horror, tears immediately begin to gather in your eyes.

But not out of sadness.

Frustration.

A laugh leaves you that sounds more manic than not.

“You’re kidding.”

John is already off the bed, pulling his pants to his hips, a proud smirk on his lips.

“M’not darling. Duty calls.”

He smiles at you flashing pretty baby blues. Bastard knew what he was doing. When he sees the tears trickling down your face he doesn’t panic, doesn’t baby you.

No.

He laughs.

“Damn baby, I make you cum and you’re still gonna cry?”

Despite his teasing his words are full of affection as he cups your face, wiping your tears with one big thumb swiping across your cheek.

“I’ll be back.”

He promises low, his eyes never leaving yours.

You huff, crossing your arms in defiance though a smile pulls at your pouting lips.

You know this isn’t a normal reaction, to cry, but you’re not upset, well— maybe a little, only at the fact that he stopped.

“That’s not fair! You teased me!”

You whine, but it’s half hearted.

He chuckles low and deep, his belly jiggling with the movement.

“You’ll be fine dear.”

With another chuckle he leans in and kisses your forehead.

“When I come back, I’ll fuck you so hard you can’t walk.”

And with that he leaves the room.

Leaving you, a wound up, frustrated, horny wife all alone in the warm bed.

Destined to squirm until he comes home.

Vs

he doesn't have to remember coordinates or how many magazines he has left. he just has to remember your favorite pastries and how you like your coffee in the morning.

if you ask him anything work related while he's home, he acts like he's never heard of anything you're asking. why fill his mind with that when he'd much rather be talking about the new shoes you got or the concert you've been planning on going to for a few months.

doesn't even respond to Ghost when he's at home. Simon or a pet name only.

"who's Ghost? y' been seein another man when I ain't here?"

"Simon Riley!"

"mmm tha's better"

but they all carry something.

simon has a hair tie on his wrist. black, cheap, the kind you buy in packs of fifty and lose all over the damn flat. it sits under the cuff of his glove, biting into his skin, reminding him exactly why he needs to make it home. it always smells like your shampoo for a bit before it starts to smell like his own sweat, he finds himself a new one on the bathroom floor before each deployment.

price wears a watch. it’s not the watch that’s about you, really. it’s that he started setting the second time zone to match yours. he checks it more than he should, especially at night when he can’t sleep and it’s three a.m where he is and eight a.m where you are. he’ll think: ‘she’ll be making coffee, i wonder what she wore to bed’ and that’s the closest he lets himself get to mixing you with work.

kyle wears a bracelet. it’s thin braided yarn, the kind of thing you learned to make as a kid at camp. you made it on a slow sunday afternoon while he was half-asleep on your thigh. he said ‘oh, that’s sick, darling. ta!’, put it on and hasn’t taken it off since. it’s absolutely filthy these days. and when it starts to fray, he simply keeps re-knotting it, sometimes johnny has to help get it tight.

When he finally comes with a grunt over your fingers, thick and sticky, he catches you around the waist and hauls you back against him before you can flee- where do you think you're going? It's not going to clean itself up.

You are drunk and pissed all because Simon decided it was time to leave the bar. He threw you over his shoulder, patted your ass, told you that you have had way too much to drink and walked out like nothing was unusual about the scene. On the way home, you sat angled towards the window, giving him the silent treatment, and every time he tried to touch your thigh you dramatically pushed his hand away and huffed in annoyance.

Such a brat.

Simon knows exactly how to take care of his bratty lady, which is why the second the two of you walk into your shared apartment, he’s throwing you over his shoulder and walking towards the bedroom.

What he doesn’t see is the sly smile spreading across your face when you think of the best way to fuck with him.

You’re face down, cheek smooshed against the pillow, ass up, pussy bare to him behind you, and ready to get on with your evil plan. His hands find your hips, and he nudges his cock at your entrance. Your folds are soaking, glistening under the soft glow of your bedside lamp, and the second his tip pushes through your entrance, you’re biting your bottom lip and shoving your face even further into the pillow.

This will be harder than you thought.