When you irritated Simon, it was fine, but it sure as hell wasn't when he did it back.
Like it was okay that you tried to put your hand in his mouth while he yawned.
It was also okay when you pretended to be a dog and shook your wet hair onto him after washing it.
In your rule book, everything was fine, you were just having fun.
You'd just call him a Debbie Downer if he actually got annoyed with you.
But if he did it, he would never hear the end of it.
You'd huff at him and tell him to quit it and that he wasn't being funny, and he'd ask why you were holding back a smirk if it hadn't been funny, you'd protest that you weren't and that, that was just how your face looked.
Fine, maybe it was okay when he did it back, just sometimes.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality
Anya is LIVE right now
FREE
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
He snuggles up to you, big nose bumping all across the skin of your neck, one of his hands burried deep in your panties, fingers staying there after he made you cum for the second time just now.
He pulls his hand away, inspecting his glistening digits in pure awe before starting to kiss your cheeks as if he can't bear to be just an inch away from you. He shows you his work, wide eyes full of something you can't quite comprehend, raw, intimate.
"What should we do with these? Hm?" He whispers, voice low and way too seductive, he doesn't seem to notice though, too lost in the feel of having you this close. "Should we clean them?"
He sucks his fingers clean without hesitation, making you squeak out in return at the sight, making him laugh. Even compliments you on the taste afterwards, savoring it on his tongue with a narrowed gaze.
He then kisses you senseless, shoving his tongue down your throat, smearing spit all over your lips. Surely you get why he's so addicted, no?
Simon doesn’t get why you hate him so much.
simon riley x sergeant!reader who hates(?) his guts
tags/cw: nsfw 18+, explicit sexual content, afab!reader, simon kind of corners you for a sec so a smidge of dubcon but there’s verbal consent right after!, male masturbation, light masochism, sexual tension, brat kink, degradation kink, sparring as foreplay, hate sex (kind of), dirty thoughts & dirty talk, teasing, oral, orgasm denial, unprotected sex, creampie, FEELINGS, just hear me out okay. [5k words]
based off of this request!, read on ao3
Simon doesn’t get why you hate him so much.
Doesn’t understand why you’re perfectly polite with Price and the others but look at him like fresh shit smeared on your boot’s sole.
Not that he cares; it’s only mildly irritating to have to listen to you talk shit whenever he’s busy tracking a target down his scope.
Better not miss, Lt.
Would be a really big mess to clean if you fuck this up, Lt.
Don’t tell me you’re getting rusty, Lt?
A right anklebiter, you are. It gets worse when you’re both on base– when the verbal pettiness turns physical.
You’re both on the running track, doing your morning runs at the same time.
“On your right,” Simon grunts, just loud enough for you to hear. He pivots just a bit to your right so he can pass.
But then you also slide a bit to your right, speeding up on the way so that you’re still in front and blocking his way. When he tries going to the other way, you zig zag with him. Left, right, left, left, more left, right.
In the end, you stop when he stops. You turn towards him, eyeing him like a moldy meal you forgot to throw out.
“Oh. Hi, Lt.,” you say. “Didn’t see you there.”
“I told you to move, Sergeant,” he mutters.
“Sorry, Lt., what was that?” You cup your ears. “Couldn’t hear you over my music.”
You’re not even wearing any earbuds.
He turns on his heels and leaves with his fists clenched tight.
It’s been like this since you first joined. He remembers it as clear as day-- a younger, somehow more stubborn-looking you.
Plucked fresh from whatever unit you were in before them, you had greeted them— Price, Garrick, Johnny— with respect: a salute, a handshake, and a smile to boot.
But then you hear his name, see his mask, and it’s like hell freezes over on your face.
Lieutenant Riley, nice to meet you– like it was the exact opposite, like it caused you physical pain to even say his name.
Johnny makes fun of him for it. Dae ye know 'em? Face looked like ye curbstomped a bairn or something.
You drop the filter entirely once you settle into the team months later. Tongue gets looser, no pulled punches, thinly veiled contempt slipping into pure snark.
He needs to grab something from a cabinet you’re in front of? Your hand shoots out, waggling your fingers. Five quid and I’ll move, Lt.
Helping him bandage up on an op? He grunts when your fingers dig just a tad too deep into his skin and wrap the wound just a tad too tight. Maybe if you didn’t get hit in the first place, Lt.
It’s infuriating.
But you don’t stop because there are never any consequences.
No matter how many looks Price shoots him when the old man overhears the blatant disrespect.
No matter how many times other soldiers stare at you like you’re out of your goddamn mind (you are) for saying the shit you do.
Why?
Because the reason Simon never writes you up for insubordination is the same reason he's fisting his leaking cock in bed like some horny fucking teenager.
It's the same reason he lets you snark in his ear over comms, quietly grinding his rock-hard erection into cold dirt, and grunts to hide the pleasure that shoot down his spine when your nails dig into bloody skin.
It's the only thing he can think about when he's like this— your nails tracing the muscle of his back and gripping his cock until his spunk gets all over you.
Simon doesn't remember when it started. Doesn’t remember when the want became a need.
Maybe it was the time you sassed him in front of the others, or maybe it was when you looked him straight in the eye and told him 'you look like a cosplayer, Lt.' Or maybe it was since the beginning, on your very first day.
The one thing he is sure about is how much he wants to fuck you.
Simon wants to fuck you until you're all babbles and wails— bend you over in his bed until you can't think straight and all you can muster is how you want more of his stupid, stupid cock.
He wants you to want him as much as he wants you. But he doesn't want to fuck the fight out of you though, no.
Yeah, a part of him still wonders why you hate him so much, but he doesn't mind you sticking to whatever fucked-up preconceived notions you have of him.
Your fire is what makes it fun, and Simon loves to burn.
He cums like that, mind flush with the thought of you fucking yourself on his cock while telling him how much you can't fucking stand him.
When the haze of pleasure finally recedes, he's stuck with one goal in his mind,
—getting you in his bed.
Your lieutenant's acting strange.
Ever since he walked away from you on the track, Ghost has been... accommodating. Moreso than before.
It's suspicious as fuck.
You're not an idiot. You know your behavior should've gotten you sacked ages ago. Even though Ghost might let it slide for whatever reason, it's still highly disrespectful to your CO. (But you have your reason, as petty as it is. He deserves it.)
So it's strange when he starts acting almost-nice to you.
Exhibit A.
Standing up for you.
The 141 is respected amongst operators and soldiers alike; this is fact. But there's always bound to be a green recruit who thinks, I can do it, I'm special, why not me?
These are the ones you encounter most as the most recent and youngest addition to the 141. It's something you had to grow new skin for, but that doesn't mean it isn't fucking annoying to deal with.
"I bet I could take them in a fight. They don't even look that tough," the recruit prattles. "Do you think the captain will let me into 141 if I beat them?"
The group of soldiers he’s posturing to snicker and laugh. They don’t seem to care that you’re standing ten feet away, or that you can very visibly hear their conversation.
You're about to tell them to drop and give you fifty when a big hulking man steps towards the group.
"Think you got what it takes, corporal?" Your lieutenant drawls, staring down at the recruits who look like they're all going to piss their fatigues.
"L-lieutenant! No--yes, I mean, I--"
Ghost jerks his head towards the training mats.
"Let's see how good you are then."
The recruit gets dropped within ten seconds.
Your lieutenant mutters something to him before barking at the rest of the group. Get your asses on the field. You lot are runnin' laps until you know what it means to respect your betters.
Does he even know how hypocritical he’s being?
Later on during dinner, the recruit who insulted you walks up to 141's table, still ruffled from the nasty takedown and sweaty from running around base. He barely manages to squeak out an apology to you, shooting the smallest glance at your lieutenant before running away with his tail tucked.
(How do you grapple with the way your heart turns?)
Ghost doesn't react, doesn't even look up. Only sips his tea like nothing ever happened.
Exhibit B.
Since when did Ghost start talking back to you on comms?
"If you let me die tonight, I'm going to haunt you and your bloodline forever, Lt."
An undercover mission. Infiltrating some invite-only bourgeoisie gala that's an alleged meeting place for many, many VIPs. Coincidentally, 141's newest target happens to be invited and you are the one who's thrown into the lions' pit.
"My bloodline? Not happening."
He's somewhere out there, watching. On the roof of a nearby building probably.
There’s a sense of comfort in that. You may not like his guts, but you’ve never doubted him on overwatch.
"Why? Got no game, Lt.?"
"Got plenty," he says.
The soft rumble of his voice tickles your ear. It's unusual-- weird-- to hear him banter with you over comms like this. He usually only ever does it with Soap.
"Well, make it happen then," you mumble.
A waiter passes by with a tray of champagne. You smile politely, shaking your head ‘no’.
It’s not the highest risk mission, but the amount of armed guards you’re seeing is a bit annoying. That, and your target is still nowhere to be found.
If you have to send another flirty smile to another grimy man while waiting, you're telling Ghost to aim the crosshair at you instead. And then you're going to haunt him.
"You volunteerin'?"
Your brain short-circuits.
What?
Your mouth bobs open, then shut, and then open again. Hoping to whatever deity out there that your lieutenant's scope isn't actively trained on you right now.
Shit hits the fan faster than you can gather your thoughts.
Screams ring out through the ballroom as windows shatter and gunfire fills the air. Chaos quickly spreads through the masses as people run for cover. Ghost's voice flickers in over the noise.
"Sergeant, take cover, now! Go!"
You don't need to be told twice.
There'll be time to think about what he said later, when you aren't actively in danger of being hole-punched.
And then, Exhibit C.
This is how it culminates.
Outside, on the fields with your fellow sergeants and Ghost. The four of you toss sticks to decide sparring partners; it's sheer dumb misfortune that you end up pairing with Ghost.
You've sparred with him before. He's relentless. There's always a bruise or two on your body when he's done with you. Never once have you won against him; you don't expect this time to be any different.
“Let’s see if you’ve improved, Sergeant,” Ghost taunts.
“I swear I won’t accidentally kick your balls, Lt.,” you reply.
The two of you grapple at each other, swiping and pushing, body on body. Ghost is wearing a tight compression shirt today. You'd be lying if you said it wasn't somewhat distracting with the way it hugged the planes of his muscles— no! Keep focusing!
It's never easy to wrestle a man as big as him. But you have to try.
Your hands can barely wrap around his biceps, but you use what you have to your advantage. Nails nearly break skin as you dig deep. He grunts, grip tightening on your arms.
A man's strength can sometimes be his undoing.
You let your weight shift, using his hold on you as an anchor. Tilting back, you let your legs swing forward, grappling around his waist. The momentum has Ghost stumbling back, and you make your final move.
Ghost lets out a surprised grunt as you let go of his arms and force your way through his grip. You push through, pressing your forearms against his throat until his whole body tilts and falls back onto the mat.
Oh, you're gasping out breaths. Holy shit.
You did it.
Ghost is, like you, breathing hard through his nose, eyes lidded. His hands no longer wrap around your arms. Instead, they're settled on your hips, holding you firmly in place.
It occurs to you then the position you're in.
Legs spread over his waist, sitting right on his belly. You're bent forward, hands splayed across his chest and next to his head. Practically laying on top of him.
He's so warm.
An involuntary jolt rolls through your body as you jerk backwards, an attempt to get some distance from his face.
Big mistake.
Holy fuck, this is not happening right now.
You feel it beneath your ass. Unmistakably big, undeniably hard.
A shiver makes it's way down your spine. Your legs clench tight, squishing his abdomen and grinding deeper against him. With the way Ghost's fingers dig into the meat of your thighs, you know he feels it too.
There's a fog closing in on your mind. The sight of your lieutenant under you shouldn't turn you on like this— and yet, the growing dampness between your legs tells you otherwise.
Panicked, you rip yourself off of him and get on your feet. A look over at Soap and Gaz, but they're still in a grapple of their own. It's only a temporary relief that runs over you when you realize they hadn't seen what happened.
"Sergeant," your lieutenant calls out. He's propped up on his arm; you look anywhere but him.
"Sorry, Lt. Feeling a little sick," you say, licking your lips. "Going to freshen up a bit."
You don't wait for him to dismiss you before you're jogging back to your quarters.
Standing in front of your little bathroom sink, you splash cold water onto your burning face. It barely helps.
How did you end up here?
Was it when he started being nice to you, even though you were never anything but rude? Was it when he defended you against egotistic recruits?
Or has it been doomed since the start, when he first looked at you through his stupidly long lashes, like he was trying flip you inside out with his stare?
You weren't lying when you told him you felt sick.
It's a creeping feeling in your gut that's been burning low for a while now. Don't want to call it denial, but what else could it be?
(Betrayal, maybe. You shouldn't feel anything else. Shouldn’t be feeling anything but spite for your lieutenant. It isn't fair to your friend who—)
Knock knock.
The sound breaks you away from thought. A part of you dreads opening it, because you know who stands behind the heavy door. The other part of you is who turns the knob.
Ghost stands there, towering over you.
"Alright, Sergeant?"
His composure is unfair. It's like before never happened. You take a deep breath before replying.
"Yes, sir," you say. It comes out all crackly and rough. "Nothing to worry about."
The silence that falls between you is unsettling.
“If that’s all.” You start to close the door, but his hand catches it.
“Need to talk to you ‘bout something,” he says.
You feel your heart drop somewhere into hell. “Sir, there’s nothing—”
He pushes the door back, pressing into your room. “D’you have a problem with me, Sergeant?”
Eyebrows scrunched, you back up into the wall behind you. “What?”
“I repeat, do you have a problem with me?”
Ghost tilts your chin up. His hand feel like a brand on your skin. Your gaze moves back and forth from his eyes to where his lips shift under the mask, all of a sudden taken back to the picture of him lying beneath your legs. He follows your stare, searching.
“Yes or no, Sergeant?”
His voice is all guttural and deep, like he’s holding himself back from something.
“…N-no, I—”
“Good,” he hums. “Won’t have a problem with this then.”
He moves faster than you can process. Hand slipping his balaclava up, just enough to expose thin scarred lips and a crooked nose. You blink, and suddenly they’re pressing against yours.
Any semblance of self-control melts away after that.
He kisses you like a man deprived of oxygen. Feels more like he's eating you up rather than kissing you. Like he's trying to drink up the air you breathe and more.
But after all he's been doing these past few weeks, the contact feels like a deep reprieve in your bones— a relief you don't want to admit to needing.
You chase him when he pulls back.
“Do you hate me?” He asks, thumb tracing your swollen lips.
"I just let you kiss me," you say, breathless and incredulous. "And you're asking me if I hate you?"
He smirks-- it's stupidly attractive seeing a real expression on him.
"Can't be sure when it comes to you, Sergeant."
You furrow your brows, annoyed. "What's that supposed to mean— mmph!"
Ghost cuts you off with another kiss, hands moving down to your hips. You yelp when he pulls your legs up to wrap around his waist, hauling you up by your ass.
"Arms around me, love," he grunts between pecks.
Once your arms wrap around his shoulders, he pushes off the wall and carries you over to the bed. With surprising care, he drops you on the mattress and settles on top of you.
"Tell me to stop," Ghost growls against your neck. "And I will."
You should say no. No to fraternization, no to betraying your morals.
Stand strong in the face of evil temptation!
"More," you plead instead, because the devil lives inside you. "Want more, Lt."
He groans into your skin. It excites you infinitely more. Leaning back, he pulls his shirt off, revealing firm muscles and a soft belly.
Fuck, he’s so stupidly hot. Your own top and pants comes off a moment later, left forgotten on the floor.
The two of you are a mess of tangled limbs in your little bed made for one.
Ghost kisses down your body, latching onto your soft skin and sucking bruises down your chest. He says things that make you burn a fever pitch— fuckin’ gorgeous, sergeant, knew you needed me, isn't tha' right?
It’s unbearable how turned on you are.
Whines bleed through clenched teeth as you paw at his body. He bites, eliciting a sharp flinch from you.
Always pissin’ me off with tha’ smart mouth of yours, he mutters. Makin' me go wank off like a fuckin' teen.
Your mind is blur— everything is happening too fast, too hot, to process what he's saying to you.
Ghost moves down your body, giving your chest a rough fondle before settling in between your shaky legs.
When he drags your underwear down, your pussy is glistening with how utterly wet you are.
"All f' me?" He asks, pupils blown at the sight of his prize. "Fuckin' drippin'."
You squirm, cheeks searing hot. "Shut up—"
He doesn't let you finish, burying his face between your thighs in one smooth motion.
If Ghost kisses like a man starved, then he eats pussy like it's the only thing keeping him alive.
He pulls you close in his arms and drinks you up like the slick dripping from your pussy is his own personal ambrosia. Moans and groans like it's some divine providence to have his mouth on your cunt.
Your hands claw at his neck and shoulders, but it only spurs him on with more fervor. You feel it simmering into a boil in your belly; the telling signs of your orgasm building.
"Hah—Fuck, Lt., I'm gonna—," you moan, squeezing your eyes shut in anticipation.
But then he stills.
Just stops completely as his mouth leaves your pussy cold and shaking. You lift your head to look down at him, eyes in a frenzy from a ruined climax.
"W-why'd you stop—,"
"Never answered my question, love." He blows cold air on your clit, teasing.
"Huh?"
"Tell me why you hate me," Ghost says, staring at you through soft lashes. "Tell me why you act like such a fuckin' brat, and I'll let you come."
Your breath hitches. “You’re such a fucking asshole—“
You try to kick your leg at him, but he's strong and there's nothing you can do with them pinned down. He nips at your clit, making you yelp out in shock.
"Answer the question, Sergeant."
Ghost shifts his arm, bringing his hand over while still holding your leg down. It's sinful to watch it happen-- his tongue flicking out, licking two of his fingers until they're shimmering with saliva, petting your pussy from the clit down to your pulsing hole.
"Mmhh—"
The stretch of his fingers in your pussy makes you tremble with anticipation. But he doesn't move them the way you want. Only teases you slowly and gently.
"Please, Lt.—"
"Not fuckin' you 'til you tell me, pet."
And isn't that simply the most aggravating thing to hear?
You let out a frustrated whimper. Mind running back and forth over what you could possibly say so that he'll make you come. A shock of pleasure flickers through you when he suddenly crooks his fingers inside you.
Keeping your gaze, he flicks his tongue out and drags it slowly, tracing a line from where his fingers fuck into you, all the way up to your clit.
"Promise I'll fuck you right if you tell me."
The words bubble up your throat before you can stop them.
"...myfriendaskedyououtbutyourejectedthemsoI'mobligatedtohateyou— please, let me come, Lt.," you half-beg, half-sob.
It’s embarrassing. Borderline humiliating to say it aloud.
The real reason for why you treat him like trash— how you only really hate him by proxy.
Truthfully, there's never been any real ill intent. Only a sorry moral obligation to be as spiteful as possible for an old teammate who had confided in you after being coldly shot down by the masked lieutenant of 141— the very one that's currently knuckles deep in your throbbing cunt and covered in your juices.
“Wasn’t so hard, was it, love?” Ghost purrs, fingers still slowly pumping in and out of you.
He's still smirking, that fucking asshole. You wriggle your hips, but he keeps you still with an arm and it’s just not enough.
“Fuck you,” you cry out in frustration.
“I will," he hums. "All tha’ sass for what, hm? Someone I don’t even remember?”
He presses his nose into the plush of your thigh and takes a deep inhale.
"Jerk— hngh!"
Broken moans escape you as his lips find your clit once more. This time, he eats you up without mercy, thick fingers curving wickedly into that one spot inside you. A familiar spark beginning its ascent from where it first fell.
You want to tell him that he's mean, a straight jerk for not remembering someone confessing to them. That this was your friend he was dismissing like a nobody.
(Oh, but what would your friend say if they find out you're in bed with the man who rejected them?
It was so long ago though, your mind whispers. Surely, they've moved on by now, right?)
His tongue laps with just the right pressure on your bud, full broad strokes that make you see stars. His fingers work your pussy with focused precision, sinking into the spot that keeps making you cry out in pleasure.
It's all too much for you to take.
When he finally wraps his lips around your sensitive clit and sucks— you come with blinding lights in your vision, hips grinding up into his face uncontrollably.
"Tha's it, just like that, Sergeant," Ghost coos against your clit, sending another jolt through your legs.
He slips his fingers out of you and pulls himself up back towards your neck, nipping and nestling at your throat. His still-clothed cock grinds gently against your pulsating core.
With the crash comes some of your rationality.
"They liked you, you asshole," you accuse softly, boneless.
"Like me?" Ghost says bluntly against your skin. "They don't even know me."
You roll your eyes. "What, like I know you?"
He pulls back, both arms braced at the sides of your head. Something indecipherable in his gaze.
"Don't you?"
Don't you?
Your breath catches in your chest.
And what would it mean to know someone like Ghost?
His name? His face?
Is it to know the same ten jokes he tells on the field? Or how he always makes sure to give his soldiers a once-over before heading out, and is always the last to exfil?
Or maybe it's to know the sound of his voice in your ears, to be able to pick him out from a crowd of blurry faces. To be able to recognize the scarred curve of his lips, the rough callouses on his palms against your skin.
You sink into the deep end when you realize how close the proximity between you and the man-you-tried-to-hate has become.
"You with me, pet?"
Ghost pulls you out of your thoughts with a nibble on your throat.
"Worryin' too much," he nuzzles into your neck, suckling a sensitive spot that makes you whine. "Couldn't care less 'bout your friend."
You frown, opening your mouth to berate him again, but he beats you with a deep kiss.
“Don't care f'anyone else," Ghost utters between kisses. "Copy?"
The thought makes your head go fuzzy. You nod.
"Good, 'cause 'm gonna fuck you now."
Like a switch, Ghost goes back to teasing you. He kisses you hard, still as desperate and hungry as it was before. Your hands slip down his muscly frame, tugging at the hem of his pants.
"—off," you manage to say between breaths.
Ghost obliges, breaking free from you to tug off his pants. You salivate at the sight; you'd felt it before, on the training grounds— knew it would be big.
His cock is fat and heavy on your cunt when he settles back in between your legs. Even against the size of his bulk, he's fucking huge.
"Scared?" He teases.
You break eye contact with his cock to look up at him. The stupid smirk is back on his lips, irritating you in all the right ways. His eyes stare down you, as heavy as his cock feels.
"I've had bigger," you lie.
He tilts his head. "S'that right?"
Grabbing your hand, he pulls it down towards his cock. His own hands guide yours as he drags them up and down his length.
Holy shit, you can barely wrap your hands around him.
He makes you press his cock against your pussy. It squelches with how wet you are, as his cock slides against your lips. Your breath hitches when his fat tip catches on your slick entrance.
"So fuckin' wet f'me," Ghost groans. "Want my cock inside you tha' bad, pet?"
You whine, needy pussy fluttering every time his nudges his cock at your hole. "Please, please—."
"Please what? Use your words." He presses his tip in, just a bit.
"Need you to fuck me, Lt.—," you plead, grinding your hips down in attempt to fuck yourself on his cock.
"Say my name, pet. I know you know it."
Fucking. Asshole!
Frustrated, you dig your nails deep into his arms, earning a pained grunt from him.
"Oh, go fuck yourself, Simon."
You're not ready for the way Ghost absolutely buries his cock deep inside you with a pathetic whimper.
Your own breath is knocked out of you with how fucking big he feels, legs shaking at the sudden intrusion.
"Fuck— so fuckin' tight," Simon grunts out.
His hips shift back just a bit before plunging back into your ruined pussy, drawing a choked moan from you. The stretch is euphoric— combined with the way his tip rubs up against that spot in your pussy, it's all you can do to keep yourself from falling into the haze.
“D'you know—,” he says, sinking again and again into your cunt. “—how much I thought ‘bout this?”
"'Bout fuckin' this pretty cunt—" Thrust.
"Bending you over in my bed—" Thrust.
"Makin' you come over and over—" Thrust.
It's no use; you lose yourself in the pleasure of his cock, eyes rolling back as he repeatedly pounds you further into the bed. His hands squeeze tight around the curves of your ass, pulling you flush against him and stuffing you full with each thrust.
Simon doesn't stop teasing you.
"What's wrong, love? Got nothin' to say?" He taunts you, lifting both your legs over his shoulders and somehow fucking into you impossibly deeper.
"Cock's got your tongue?"
"F-fu-ungh—"
Tears trail down your cheeks as the simmer in your belly grows overwhelming.
He slips a hand between your legs and starts rubbing circles on your clit, coaxing a string of debauched sounds out of you.
"Sound so fuckin' good like this," Simon groans, eyes hazy and looking just as wrecked as you. "Should jus' keep y'here and fuck you forever."
"—mngh, f-fuck... you," you finally managed to choke out, voice raw and scratchy.
It doesn't distract from the way your cunt clenches tighter than before, not with the way you watch his eyes flicker dark.
He bottoms out with a particularly hard thrust at your words, leaving you a sobbing mess as he fucks you relentlessly.
You grasp away at him as your pleasure begins to overwhelm you— now threatening to boil over. Simon, Simon, Simon is all you can muster, but it's enough.
His cock ruts into you with no reprieve, fingers still flittering over your aching clit.
"Come f'me, pet."
And for once in your life, you obey your lieutenant.
Euphoria burns through your nerves as a second orgasm crashes over you from down under. Your cunt pulses in unrelenting waves, the pleasure borderlining too much. Squeezing his cock even deeper as Simon chases his own climax.
When he finally unravels, it's chaotic and frantic. Simon bends you over, covering you with his body and pulling you close as if to keep you under him. His eyes are squeezed shut, panting as sweat drips into the fabric of his mask.
Your pussy flutters one more time— milking his cock dry at the idea of knowing what Simon Riley looks like when he comes balls deep in your pussy.
“I still hate you,” you whisper, once the electricity fizzles out of the air, leaving only faint static remnants.
But there’s no real venom in your voice.
Simon huffs on top of you. You feel it in the way his chest jumps against yours.
“Right.” He relaxes his body onto you, weight squishing the air out of your lungs with a small ‘oof’. “Keep tellin’ yourself that, love.”
You can't describe the silence that falls over the both of you as comfortable, but... it's not bad, either. There's still a lingering sense of guilt in the back of your mind— but it's no longer screaming at you like before.
Simon's head shifts, the mask pulling on your sheets as he turns and mutters into your temple.
"Still plannin' on hauntin' me now that it's gonna be our bloodline?"
You slap his side as best as you can with your pinned arm.
No thoughts just younger!reader having a little surprise for when price gets home, right?
He's been gone nearly two months, and you're so excited to have your boyfriend back. Waiting by the door like an eager puppy, you bounce on the heel on your feet, a habit picked up from john.
"Love, I'm home!" Price calls as he opens the door. You're greeted with the sight of john in his normal jeans and shirt, obviously having showered before hand, a small tragedy you are willing to overlook when his gaze softens. One arm slings around your waist, pulling you in "hey there, sweets. Missed you."
"You too." You reply, tucking your face into his neck and purring at that familiar aftershave. Your cheeks hurt from smiling so hard, squishing into price with a little hop.
"Mmhm." A thump and john tosses his duffle bag by the shoes, the distinct clunk of weapons in them. "Didn't do anything naughty while I was gone?"
You freeze. There's no way he knew. Shyly, you pull back and look at price "no! I'd never do anytning–"
With a scoff, price forces his thumb and forefinger into your mouth. He pinches your tongue and pulls it out, the taste of oil and dirt rolling over it "then what's this?"
There, sitting on your pink tongue like a pearl in the membrane of a muscle, is your new piercing. The silver barbell glint in the hallway light.
"You call this nothin', kid?" John raises a brow at you in dissapointment, he tugs on it as if to make a point. You can't reply, words coming out slurred. Huffing price lets go of your tongue to grip your jaw.
"I wanted to surprise you–"
His mouth swallows up your words, large body crowding you against the wall so he can properly lick into your mouth. It feels absolutely filthy with the metal sliding between two wet muscles. Just the thought of it has your stomach rolling with arousal.
"Mh. Good choice, at least." Price grunts in approval, face flushed. You're all too aware of this hard line pressed into your hip when price grabs the back of your neck "c'mon, kid. I want to feel that on my cock."
Soap who loses his virginity to you and acts like you owe him something now about it. Follows you like a lost puppy, clings to you and kisses you with an inexperienced, sloppy tongue. Something something 'stole his innocence'. Won't stop joking about marriage- only when he's on one knee with a fat diamond in his hand do you realize he might've been a bit more serious than you thought.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality
Anya is LIVE right now
FREE
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
18+. gn!reader | thinking about making out with our resident loser, konig
you're on the couch, sat in his large lap with your tongue in his mouth. lips pressed against his as you control the hot, quick pace of your make out. hands around his head to pull at the short strands of hair, moving him as you pleased. fucking his mouth with your tongue as you licked him and sucked at his tongue.
your eyes fluttering open to see his beautiful face as you pull back slightly, a string of your spit connecting you two. konig lets out a curse as you back away. leaning his head forward to get back to your lips. you tug back him back with your grip on his head, listening to him whine in frustration.
it has you grinning into the next kiss as you give in and grinding your ass against him. his erection pressed up against you as you whine your hips backwards, letting him just feel the swell of your ass. always teasing him in some manner. getting off on just how touch starved the man was.
how you could be in nothing but your undergarments while he's fully clothed and still in control. he'd still listen to you, wait for you, cum for you. only if you allowed it.
you shift onto your knees, still making out heavily as you shift before sitting back down on his stomach. his hands finding your hips to steady you as you grind against the fat of his belly. hips arching back and forth, grinding as you feel the delicious press of yourself against him. breaking the kiss to pant into konigs mouth, eyes open again just to stare at his face.
to catch that blissed out, needy expression painted over his flushed face.
you moved one of his hands, letting out a sigh as you brought it to your underwear. murmuring for him to pull them to the side for you, and shivering at the contact of his skin against your warm and leaking arousal.
you go back to grinding, using his body as nothing more than a toy, a grinding pad for your pleasure. your slick wetness smearing along his happy trail as you go. hips shifting faster and faster as you chase the feeling of ecstasy starting to build up in you.
hands reaching down to grope at him. digging into his upper belly, squeezing the fat there before smoothing your hands over the red mark it leaves. caressing and squeezing to your content before moving up to his chest. cupping his chest in your hands and jiggling. fingers lighting over pink nipples before pinching them in your grasp.
just the feeling of him has you dizzy enough to cum. everything about him felt like he was made for you. the ginger hairs that littered his chest and lower stomach. his fat chest and stomach, soft and so incredibly hot. the uncut monster of a cock he had straining behind you. desperate for the chance to be used by you too.
you shuddered as you came, dripping onto konigs stomach and not stopping for a second. telling him to pull himself out of his pants now so he could jerk himself while you tested out how many times you could cum on his stomach before needing his cock to split open your clenching hole.
Falling asleep with your head on roommate!König's chest, and he's trying so hard not to wake you up. It's been a long week for both of you, and you're finally able to relax... His heartbeat lulled you to sleep, along with the rumble of his voice in his chest while he rambled about some random thing that happened to him.
This is perfectly fine and seemingly wholesome, except for the fact that he's in hell. You're leaning against him, you're so warm and soft, you smell too good, and now he's getting hard because he's so touch starved and stupidly attracted to you :( The poor guy already has a hard time watching you wander the house in barely any clothes on hot days, he's seen you in only a towel when you're getting out of the shower, he has heard you using that pathetic vibrator in your room at night which he's not jealous of AT ALL, and now here you are practically laying on him. Cuddling him, even.
So now he's forced to sit there patiently while his cock strains against his zipper, throbbing painfully whenever you let out a breath or sigh. The Austrian giant has to force himself to stay still and not fidget while you quietly snore against him, face turning to nuzzle more into his pecs. Part of him dies when your hand somehow ends up on his thick thigh, only inches away from his obvious arousal.
When you finally wake up, König has to quickly excuse himself to take a shower. The water is just loud enough to cover his heavy breathing and pitiful as fuck whimpers as he jerks off under it.
Imagine being the young secretary that recently moved onto base, right?
You're a pretty thing, soft and sweet in am environment that is anything but. The kind of person that makes heads turn when you walk through the halls.
Of course, everyone notices how you seem to spend a lot of time with price.
Sneaking into his office during odd hours, chatting with him in semi-hidden spaces. Everyone assumes you and him are, well...you know.
Of course it drives the guys insane, knowing that price has all but claimed you. You, the forbidden fruit who laughs at ghosts dark jokes. Who leans in close when gaz is telling a story. Who has the softest lips Johnny's ever seen, and he'd love to see them wrapped around his–
Oh, and when they find out price hasn't actually made a move yet? Maybe he's flirted, all anyone could get out of you is that you do not see price in that way, fleeing with a pinched expression before anyone could prove further.
It's too good to believe. Why wouldn't price want you?
One drunken night, ghost asks just that. Voice rough with desire in the way a man deprived of it often is "when are you gonna snatch that cute bird up, sir? Half the base is waiting to take their shot."
Price, his face falls into stone-cold danger. He turns slowly, eyes crinkling "say again?"
"The secretary," gaz offers, too drunk to notice the change in demeanor "cute thing. If you don't want it, just say so. The things I would do to that sweet body–"
"that," price cuts off, hands gripping his glass so tight it cracks "is my kid."
Without fail, drunk ghost always makes you nervous.
Not because you're scared of him, ghost hardly becomes more violent than he usually is with a handful of shots in his system. No, the thing that makes you nervous is much worse.
Drunk ghost has absolutely zero filter with his words.
Sometimes, he says the meanest things. Telling you everything you've done that could have gotten yourself or someone else killed. Sometimes he tells you about his childhood. Sometimes...he's this.
"You know, I really do like you." He rumbles into his drink, making you wince. Ghost is looking at you with the same eyes he uses to assess a threat, intense and dark, though you know he isn't taking in much "i really like you. I'd probably marry you, if we weren't soldiers."
You nod, glance at the rest of the team by the pool tables, and whisper "then why don't you act like it?"
Instead of answering, ghost lazily rolls his head and comments "my dad terrorized Ma for more than half her life. She almost killed me an' tommy."
You know this, ghost has told you the story before. It still makes your throat tighten in sympathy. Uncaring of your lack of response, ghost adds "....I think I'm scared of hurting you. I'm not a good person."
...oh. that's...that's new.
"...you already hurt me, ghost. You cut me." You huff, avoiding the way his eyes snap to you, sudden and bright.
"What?" He reaches for you, but doesn't touch.
You turn your words over in your mouth, smooth them with your tongue. You think about telling him how agonizing it is hearing all his love confessions and knowing all his pain, when sober ghost refuses to even look at you most days. Your reluctance cuts me, you want to say. Instead, you admit "I like you too. It hurts not getting what I want."
"....you're a liability." Ghost says. Ah, seems like your words sobered him up. "I can't...I can hardly focus on missions with you. If...if price made me choose you or the objective....I'm not sure I'd make the right choice."
You drain the rest of your drink, and stand shakily. Ghost stands too, shocked by your sudden departure. You give him a look you're sure his sober self won't recognize "when will I be the right choice?"
You leave before ghost can answer. Neither of you talk about it the next day.
Uhm— ghost who is absolutely addicted to giving you kisses??
You were the one to really introduce him to the concept, giving him a quick peck on the lips after a night out. From that very first brush of soft skin against his, ghost was hooked.
Now, it seems like all he wants to do is kiss. Ghost doesn't care where you are, if there's others around, he'll be wrapping a big paw around your waist and begging "kiss? Please, lovie? Kiss?"
Whenever he fist sees you in the day, he's already hooking a thumb under his mask and pulling it up just enough to firmly press his lips to yours.
Yes, the team gets to see plenty of it, especially when he invites you out to drinks with them. You're the obnoxious couple who will be trading spit in the corner after two drinks, ghosts thighs spread wide for you to sit on, licking into your mouth like he's trying to taste your heartbeat, "c'mon, love, more? I missed you this last op, wanna feel yer tongue against mine–"
Oh, and if you try to initiate a kiss? Ghost is acting like a blushing bride. A quick peck to his lips over his mask earns you an indignant squeak, followed by the facial expression equivalent of his brain restarting, face all red if you could see it. Of course, it's quickly followed by him dragging you back by the collar for "a proper damn kiss. None of that fake shit–"
Whenever someone tries to tease him about it, ghost never falters. He loves you, why would he be embarrassed about kisses? Once, price made a snide remark about ghost acting like your needy wife, and he shot back "when was the last time yer missus gave you a kiss, john?"
Needless to say, you'll never find yourself short on supply of kisses.
For the nonny that wanted to suffocate on ghosts tongue <33 hehe
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality
Anya is LIVE right now
FREE
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
Ghost, the bastard, flips you like a rag doll, weight crushing you into the concrete beneath. His knee drives between your thighs hard enough to bruise, forearm slamming across your throat until black spots bloom at the edges of your vision. You gasp, clawing at his tac vest, but he doesn’t budge. Just snarls low in his chest, a sound that’s more animal than man.
Then you feel it. That unyielding heat, thick and insistent, grinding against your cunt through the rough fabric of his clothes. Your lips peel back in a feral grin, voice ragged.
“That a gun in your pants, or are you just happy to see me?”
His eyes- flat, dead, the skull mask casting long shadows- don’t so much as flicker. One gloved hand leaves your wrist. You hear the leather creak as he yanks the pistol from its holster.
Cold steel presses under your chin, tilting your head back until the tendons in your neck scream. The barrel digs in, right against the frantic flutter of your pulse.
Your smile spreads, slow and wicked, teeth bared, tasting blood. Pupils swallowing the last of the light, wide and black and starving. The barrel bites deeper. You arch into the threat, into him, heart hammering against the steel.
He rolls his hips down, slow and hard, cock dragging heavy and hard along your pussy like he’s carving his claim into you, forcing a choked whimper from your throat.
“Gun’s right ‘ere.” Manchester accent thick as graveyard dirt, voice low and venomous in your ear. “This one’s for you, pet. You tell me.”
rookie reader who always makes themselves smaller, less bothersome, you just have to make yourself seem invisible, shut your mouth and never complain, that’s what you were taught
which results in the other soldiers walking all over you. you’re in the gym? they’re pushing your stuff away and using the same machine you were just using, loudly talking to each other and blatantly ignoring you
you’re in the rec room? they all sit on every empty seat and next to you until you are so squished against the side of the couch your ribs hurt and you can’t breath, until in a moment of loud laughter, the soldier next to you leans away to hit one of his friends and you take the opportunity to jump up from the couch, running out from the room as quickly and silently as you can
you’re in the mess hall, trying to eat in a corner? they see an empty table and all take their seats, pushing and taking up space until half of your ass isn’t even on the bench, and half of your tray is leaning dangerously over the end of the table
you’re quiet, bottom lip bitten raw and stuck between your teeth, your eyes burn with unshed tears, you’ve tried to speak a couple of times but everyone just looked at you with disgusted and enraged looks, like you were such a despicable and annoying person for trying to take space
all of that keeps going, until könig stands behind you, voice low and deadly when he tells the recruits to “move, make space.” with the finality of a man ready to kill if his order isn’t obeyed
they all scramble, trays messily picked up and running away from the table, and you’re ready to stand up and walk away without having eaten even half of your meal, when a rough hand flies over to the back of your neck, grabbing at the hem of your shirt and pulling you down, at the center of the bench
“stay. eat.” he pats your back, moving to sit next to you and eating his own meal, big and imposing but he’s… leaving you space, lots of it too
“take up your space. you’re human too.”
when silent tears fall from your eyes and cover your cheeks in wet tracks you notice how he moves, bending forward and creating a kind of cover so no one can see you, which makes you cry harder, quiet sobs wracking through your chest
Ghost was deadly silent as he stepped through the front door. Pausing to listen for any sounds of life in the apartment before carefully placing his bag down. Taking slow steps towards the bedroom. Tugging off his mask with a smile when he saw the light on under the door.
He entered even more carefully than before. Not opening the door all the way so it wouldn't creak, avoiding the squeaky floor board he hadn't yet had time to fix, and stepping closer to find you curled up at the foot of the bed. Wearing his old hoodie, nose tucked below the collar as you slept. His favourite tail of yours nestled into your ass, one of the matching ears having slipped off your head, probably laying somewhere in the sheets by now. Simon's heart warmed.
Like you knew you were being watched, you stirred, blinking at him blearily. Too sleepy to jump up and hug him, but snuggling closer when he sat by your side.
"Sweet thing... you tried to wait up for me?" His voice soft as he spoke. Trailing his hand down your back to rest just above the tail. "Even got all dressed up... you missed me?"
With a whine you nodded. Rubbing your face against his thigh. Squirming until you were nearly on his lap. Nipping every part of him you could reach. Giving him a tired pout when his hands moved to stop you.
"Why don't you show me how much you missed me, pup. Present."
Despite your drowsiness, at the order you shot to attention. Nothing would stop you from being a good puppy for him. Scrambling away to present, face down on the bed and ass in the air. Unable to stop yourself from wiggling excitedly. Thighs already quivered when his gaze landed on your bare cunt.
A shudder wracked through your whole body when his thumbs spread you apart, trailing a finger down your soaked fold to tease your clit.
"You want me, puppy?"
If your needy whine wasn't enough, the way you shoved your hips back against him surely got the message across. Clenching around nothing when he laughed, patted your ass and pulled back.
You wanted to look at him. You wanted to so bad. Hearing the clink of his belt made you tense eagerly. But he had said 'present', so present you would. Wriggling uncontrollably from excitement.
Both of you groaned loud when he finally slid inside. Months of him gone made the stretch sting so wonderfully. Mind immediately melting as you started to drool on the sheets. Grinding back on his cock when he was still for too long.
Ghost would rather suffer through his childhood again and again til the day he died before he would admit the deep hole you left in his heart.
He broke up with you for an obvious reason, he couldn't be what you deserved, besides, it was terrifying to feel how you consumed his every thought. Every single of his waking moments from early morning to late night, you sat in his mind.
You and your soft voice, gentle touches, sweet laughs. And what made it worse was that ye could handle stress, he could handle anything, but love?
He can't handle love,
can't handle the thought of being away, can't handle the thought of losing you.
He hated being so out of control, of you being in control without even knowing it. He knew you would never hurt him, would never manipulate him, but what if.
And the worse thought was about what you would feel when a mission went wrong, when he wouldn't be able to stay next to you anymore.
So he finally decided to leave you, and definitely make it absolutely seem like his fault, he told you he was cheating, and as soon as a "we can work this out" came out of your mouth in that sad little voice, he knew he had to dig a deeper hole for himself.
Told you how he no longer loved you. How he didn't even care about you actually. Didn't even find you attractive.
Made himself seem like such an asshole, just so you would finally realise that this was for the better.
And you sure did, or so he atleast thought when you finally slapped him across his face and started to scream at him.
But he never got over you. He carried you in his heart wherever he went.
Not that he'd ever admit it.
Because a monster like him doesn't feel love, he can't love. And nothing will change his opinion, not even how sweetly you waited him home at the end of every mission.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality
Anya is LIVE right now
FREE
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
[This] post by @crashingcryptid got me thinking about vampire!reader oughhh
Imagine a wayward vampire catching you alone on the field, his attempt to turn you cut short by the silver bullet gaz lodged into his chest.
Except...you don't recover, not back into a human, anyway. The vampire had stayed long enough to turn you, but not enough to give you the strength you needed. Resulting in a weak, dependent, and very clingy vampire for the team to handle.
But this is a team of trained soldiers who've worked plenty of missions with other vampires! Surely, they can handle this...right?
It's been three days, and you still haven't drank anything. Various animal blood, a bag ghost snatched from the medical wing, even Gaz's own blood when he accidentally cut his hand.
They're running out of ideas and you're looking weaker by the minute. Everyone's gathered in your room, with you cuddled up to ghost on your bed. Just napping, not even attempting to bite.
It's then that ghost asks "...do half-turned vamps know how to feed?"
Which is how you end up being gently shook awake so ghost can guide you to his neck. A low, confused whine slips out of you when he presses your jaw open. Ghost just hums "yer gonna feed now. Open, and bite."
Price leans closer to inspect when you bite onto ghost, and chuckles to find your fangs barely making a dimple in his skin. He slips a hand under your jaw and makes you bite down properly.
The affect is instant.
Your whole body shudders as delicious liquid spills into your mouth, and suddenly you're latching on properly and sucking. Small claws kneading ghosts shirt happily.
Ghost seems to be...affected too. Gaz raises his brows judgementally "really, ghost? You into that?"
"N– no–" ghost groans, head rolling to the side, face flushed "fuckin hell– it feels tingly, and– and good."
With a huff, ghost unzips his pants and shoves a hand down his boxers. He doesn't care, everyone in this room has either heard him jerk off or seen it. He's never felt this sensitive in years, muscles tensing with each lap of your tongue over the wound.
Ghost cums embarrassingly fast, leaving a wet patch on his trousers. You, meanwhile, are still hungry and refuse to unlatch. Leaving ghost to shake and shudder in overstimulation until soap can coax you off.
Simon's hands slid up your stomach, brushing over your chest to finally curl around your neck. Thick fingers pressed against your pulse as he snapped his hips forward. Filling you again as he squeezed. Cock punching the air from your lungs and fist making you unable to suck in another. You quickly felt light headed. Clawing at his wrist, leaving deep red marks in your wake.
"I could fuckin' kill you... Right now... you couldn't stop me..." His voice was strained as he spoke. Lashes fluttering every time his cock speared you open. "Wonder how long you'd stay warm... Fuck..."
His words drifted through your mind but didn't settle. Everything too foggy to focus on as your lungs burned. Lips parting as you desperately tried to draw in a breath. It felt good, incredible even, but you could feel your consciousness dip into darkness. Through a narrow tunnel you could see Simon's face. Brows knit together as his orgasm neared. Each thrust sending sparks through your numbing body.
Finally he let go. Grasping at the sheets on either side of your head as he fucked deep. Deeper than you could comfortably take. His groan strangled in your ear. Filling your aching cunt with cum and slowly rolling his hips to fuck it deeper.
The sudden rush of air made your dizzy. Gasping loud as you clung to him. Adrenaline thrumming through your veins as your orgasm hit you unexpectedly.
"Fuck! Si!" You rasped out. Already losing your voice from the damage he had done.
As your orgasms faded and died down he held you close. Pressing lazy kisses into your temple as you continued to gulp down breaths of air.
"That's definitely gonna bruise..." You mumbled through the ache.
"Good."
love me despite the horror @navinzm - Tumblr Blog | Tumlook
