I write for pretty much any COD character, with that said, I am a straight woman so I do apologise if any LGBTQ+ fanfic aren't so well written, (but I will try to make them as good as possible).
Also, I don't really ever check my grammar or how well I punctuate my stories, just had to make that clear:)
I write 18+ stuff so if you are a minor please do not interact with my blog. Thank you.
If you are a minor please be respectful of the MDNI tag I always leave on my NSFW stories. Now I know I can’t confirm if you are indeed a minor or not but be aware that the topics I write for can be unrealistic standards for sexual intercourse and they can/will ruin your own perception of such intimacy.
Rules for requests:
-Themes that involve paedophilia will be deleted immediately.
- I write on pretty much everything, from kinks, fluff, angst and incorrect quotes to any little drabble I can create from your ideas or mine.
- will not write anything that has to do with the reader getting r**ed.
-I can maybe...just maybe allow consensual non-consent (CNC), but those are very minimal, Dub-Con is acceptable but rare
-will not write anything that has to do with racism, incest, or homophobiaಠ_ಠ
-Full-on smut is an obvious yes.
-I, at times do AUs so you are welcome to make a request about anything like that
-if you want to make a request whether it be Male, Female or GN reader, let it be known or I will end up choosing the gender\pronouns.
Side note:
GN, M, F reader's call sign is 'Grim'.
Kasper Team/Squad is non-canon and has been created by me for my stories.
Anon's can claim emojis!
I’m more of a angst writer than anything, so don’t be afraid to cry
(yes....I named a team after me...but you would too..so shhh)
Please remember that if I haven't done your requests it's either because I am busy or I am in the process of writing it. :)
Also, my inbox is always open for when you just need to rant or vent, just lmk if you wish to keep it only in my inbox lol
Hello! Im still alive! It’s been ages, I know and I’ll probably post super rarely now (much like now) but hi! And also happy pride month to all the lovers out there.
School has been a pain, nothing new. But I’m learning things (taking a course on terrorism and counterterrorism) that will lowkey help further my writings skills for cod fics, so that’s pretty cool. I’ve written some stuff that I’ve been honestly hesitant to post because it’s not to the potential I used to be, which is a shame because I have so many mlm things that I wrote while I was away.
I do have some angst but again, my writing potential is being used for school stuff.
To all my moots, if you ever did dm/tag me, I’m sorry I never responded. Life has been busy, in a good way, finally, and I’m genuinely happy that I’m not isolated as I used to be.
With all the love in the world, thank you for being patient with this forgotten account. And to all the June babies, happy early birthdays, birth month twins. 🩷🌱
Hello, hope you are having a good day/night
I love your ghost fallen angel/demon banner❤️
I was wondering if I could request a Ghost/Simon Riley x Male Reader enemies/rivals to lovers? It's my fave trope! The bickering and angst and tension and straight up maybe even fighting each other!! Than as they start to get to know each other they start to notice the attraction till it just explodes!! 👉👈
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M!Reader, mlm, enemies to lovers,
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A/N: it took me a while to clear my head, but here it is! i hope you love it<3 and also i hope you have a lovely day xx
Despise.
It’s a small word. Clean. Efficient.
It still manages to carry enough weight to settle in your chest every time you look at Simon Riley.
You despise the way he walks into a room like it already belongs to him. Like every man, inside it exists at his convenience. You despise the way command listens when he speaks, as if his voice alone carries authority earned in blood and silence. And maybe most of all, you despise the fact that no matter how much power he throws around, there’s one thing he can’t take from you.
Best sniper on base. No debate. No contest.
Ghost might be a legend. The Ghost. But he isn’t your instructor. He never was. And he never will be.
Maybe that’s what crawls under his skin.
You’re good at everything they give you. Not perfect—no one who’s actually survived this life believes in that word—but you’re consistent. Reliable. Deadly. The kind of soldier command like is because you make them look competent. The kind that the brass watches closely.
Simon hates that.
He hates the way officers say your name like it means something. Hates the quiet pride in their voices. Hates that when missions go sideways, someone always asks where you are first.
And yeah, your background doesn’t help.
Your father’s name still carries weight in the halls. Your family history reads like a recruitment poster. Generations of decorated soldiers, all neat and respectable on paper. Simon calls it nepotism. Says you were handed your rank before you ever pulled a trigger.
You call his reputation a mask.
A skull painted on a man the world thinks is already dead. A myth made useful because no one will miss him if he doesn’t come back.
If you weren’t attractive, Simon would’ve blamed your face for everything, too. Would’ve said you never had to worry about loved ones getting hurt because people wanted to protect you.
That’s the part that really pisses him off.
Because he notices.
Three missions in, the irritation hardens into something uglier.
People gravitate toward you. They listen when you talk. They trust you without questioning why. It feels religious sometimes, like they’re waiting for you to bless their rifles before deployment.
Simon loathes it.
Fuck new gods. And fuck you for making him envy you, even for a second.
The real hatred ignites on a Sunday.
23rd of November. 0800 hours.
Simon walks into the briefing room, and there you are, leaning back in your chair as if you own it. Smug, relaxed, bruised knuckles resting on the table like trophies. You look up when he enters, eyes sharp, mouth twitching.
He hates that smile.
“Operation Vanguard,” Price says, already pacing. “No records. No outside eyes. This doesn’t exist beyond this room.”
Four months of prep. Four months of training. Four months of being forced into the same space as Simon Riley.
You feel him watching you while Price talks. You don’t look back. You don’t give him the satisfaction.
Training starts brutally and only gets worse.
Late nights. Early mornings. Live-fire drills until your hands shake. Price orders you to spar with Simon more than once. He says it’s about teamwork.
It’s never about teamwork.
Trash talk is normal in the ring. Everyone knows that. But Simon makes it personal. He always does.
“What’s wrong?” he mutters when you miss a block. “Can’t take a few hits, princess?”
You grin, feral. “Let’s find out.”
You drop him fast. Three strikes to his side. One to the knee. You pin him before he can recover, forearm pressing into his throat.
“Who’s the princess now?” you ask quietly. “Or are you done already?”
He snaps.
The tackle comes out of nowhere. You hit the mat hard. All restraint disappears. Simon’s fists are heavy, wild, fuelled by something old and rotten. You give it right back. Always have. Blood slicks the floor, red against grey, knuckles splitting, breath tearing out of your lungs.
It takes five men to drag you apart.
“I’m not a fucking princess, Lieutenant,” you snarl, straining against their grip. “Don’t fucking talk to me like one.”
Simon laughs, breathless and bloody. “Did daddy teach you that?”
Something inside you fractures.
“Don’t bring him into this.”
You lunge. He’s still laughing when they pull you away.
The next morning, you sit across from him in the briefing room. Matching bruises. Matching bandages. Price pretends not to notice.
That’s when things change.
Because after that fight, Simon starts watching you differently.
He notices the way you move. Efficient. Controlled. He notices how you check exits without thinking. How you flinch at certain sounds, how your jaw tightens when someone mentions family.
You notice things too.
The way his hands shake when he’s angry. How he goes quiet instead of loud when something actually matters. The scars he never talks about. The way his eyes linger when he thinks you aren’t looking.
The insults don’t stop. They sharpen.
So does the tension.
You’re paired together on night watch, hours of silence broken only by the sound of breathing and radio static. Your shoulder brushes his when you shift. He stiffens. Doesn’t move away.
Neither do you.
It’s not an attraction. You tell yourself that.
It’s awareness.
It explodes on a mission gone wrong.
Close quarters. No backup. Too much adrenaline and nowhere to put it. You argue in whispers behind cover, faces inches apart, breathing each other in.
“You don’t get to make that call,” Simon snaps.
“I already did.”
He grabs your vest. You shove him back. Guns forgotten, tempers flaring, something electric and furious snapping between you.
“Say it,” he growls. “Say you don’t feel it.”
You freeze.
His grip tightens.
And then you kiss him.
It’s violent. Messy. Teeth and anger and months of denial crashing together. When you break apart, you’re both shaking.
“This changes nothing,” he says.
You smirk, bloodied and breathless. “Keep telling yourself that.”
Enemies don’t kiss like that.
And rivals don’t look at each other the way you do afterward.
I was wondering if I could request a Ghost/Simon Riley x Male Reader enemies/rivals to lovers? It's my fave trope! The bickering and angst and tension and straight up maybe even fighting each other!! Than as they start to get to know each other they start to notice the attraction till it just explodes!! 👉👈
I'm in the process of writing this now, sorry it's taken me long to reply
Father John Price stood before the ornate altar, the golden crucifix glinting under the soft candlelight of the church. He had taken his vows long ago, dedicating his life to the service of the Lord and the betterment of his flock. Yet lately, a strange restlessness had taken hold of his soul, a yearning he could not quite understand or control.
Every Sunday, he would stand in the pulpit, delivering sermons on the virtues of chastity and the perils of indulging in worldly desires. Yet as he gazed out upon the congregation, he found his eyes drawn to one particular face, that of you, the young woman who sat diligently in the front pew, your eyes shining with devotion as you listened to his words.
Price knew he should not think of you in such a manner, but he could not help the way his heart raced when you flashed him a smile, or the way his breath caught in his throat when you lingered a moment longer than necessary to speak to him after mass. He was a man of God, sworn to a life of celibacy and abstinence, yet never before had temptation burned so brightly before him. One fateful evening, as the sun dipped low and the church grew dim, Price found himself alone with you. The temptation was too great to resist. His hand trembling slightly, he reached for the ornate bottle of holy water, pouring a libation and allowing the sacred liquid to anoint his fingertips.
"Come, child," he murmured, his voice low and rough with barely suppressed emotion, "come and let me bless you."
He beckoned you closer, until you stood before him, flushed and breathless, your eyes wide with innocent anticipation. Slowly, reverently, he raised his hand, allowing the damp digits to ghost across your cheek, your jaw, your throat. The coolness of the blessed water was a stark contrast to the heat of your skin.
"In the name of the Father," he breathed, as he traced the delicate curve of your ear.
"Of the Son," he continued, his thumb brushing across the softness of your lower lip.
"And of the Holy Spirit," he finished, his fingertips coming to rest at the base of your throat, feeling the frantic pounding of your pulse. His eyes locked with yours, a fierce battle raging within their icy blue depths. Desire warred with duty, temptation clashed with conviction. Yet even as he struggled against his forbidden longings, his hand drifted lower, his fingertips skimming along the slender column of your neck, over the delicate bones of your collar.
Almost unconsciously, he leaned closer, inhaling the sweet scent of your hair, your skin, the essence of your femininity. His lips hovered a mere breath from your ear, his breath sending shivers cascading down your spine."Tell me," he whispered hoarsely, "tell me you want this too."
His voice was rough velvet, a caress and a command all in one. The air between you shimmered with tension, heavy with the weight of his desire and the delicious sin of it all.
He waited, scarcely breathing, his heart hammering wildly in the confines of his black shirt. The seconds stretched into eternity as he searched your face, desperate to find some sign that he wasn't alone in this madness.
Then, slowly, a delicate flush crept across your cheeks, your lips parting on a shuddering sigh. In that moment, he knew - you wanted him just as much. The realization sent a bolt of pure, electric desire surging through his veins.
Unable to resist any longer, he closed the scant distance between you and claimed your mouth in a searing kiss. His lips moved hot and hungry against yours, his tongue delving deep to taste the honeyed recesses of your mouth. A low groan rumbled in his chest as he drank in the ambrosia of your sweetness, his hands coming up to cradle your face, to angle your head just so, deepening the kiss.
He pressed against you, his thumb brushing your lower lip, tracing its delicate curve, as if committing every detail to memory. "Such a pretty little thing, aren't you?" he murmured, his voice a low, intimate rumble. "So sweet...so tempting."
His other hand slid down the side of your neck, his fingers splaying possessively across your shoulder, anchoring you to him. The heat of his touch seared your skin through the thin fabric of your dress, leaving a brand of longing in its wake.
"I shouldn't want you like this," he confessed, his breath ragged against your temple, "but God help me, I do. I burn for you, sweet girl."
He pressed his forehead to yours, his eyes fluttering shut as he struggled against the demons that plagued his mind. The church was silent save for the pounding of his heartbeat, the ragged sound of his breathing.
"Tell me," he rasped, his grip tightening on your shoulder, "tell me you feel this too. That you ache for my touch, crave my kiss. That you need me as desperately as I need you."
His other hand slid from your face to wrap around your waist, crushing you against him, molding. He could feel every curve of your body through the thin fabric of your dress, the way your soft breasts pressed against his chest, the flare of your hips fitting so perfectly in the circle of his arms. His body reacted instantly to the intimate embrace, a rush of blood flowing southward to strain against the confines of his black trousers.
"Please," you whimpered against his mouth, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt, "please, Father...I need...I need..."
"What do you need, my child?" he growled, his voice low and rough with desire. "Tell me what you need, and I shall give it to you."
His hand slid lower, his palm cupping the soft swell of your breast, his thumb finding the hardened peak of your nipple through the thin cotton of your dress. He rolled the sensitive nub between his fingers, sending jolts of pleasure radiating through your body.
"Is this what you need?" he murmured, his hot breath fanning across your ear as he leaned down to nuzzle the delicate skin of your throat. "To feel my hands on your body, touching you in ways you've only dreamed of?"
He punctuated his words with a slow, sensual caress, his hand gliding down the curves of your body. His hand drifted lower still, skimming over your ribcage, your stomach, before settling on the curve of your hip. He tugged you harder against him, grinding the evidence of his arousal against your belly, letting you feel the full extent of his desire.
"Feel that, sweet girl?" he growled, his voice strained with barely restrained lust. "Feel how much I want you?"
He rocked his hips slowly, deliberately, painting a lewd picture with the dance of his body against yours. The friction sent sparks of pleasure zinging through your core, stoking the heat building between your thighs.
"Tell me you want this too," he demanded, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of your hip as he held you fast. "Tell me you burn for me, that you ache to feel my touch, my kiss, my...everything."
His other hand slid up to cup your breast, kneading the supple mound, rolling your nipple between his fingertips until it strained against the confines of your dress. He dipped his head to lave his tongue over the sensitive peak, wetting the fabric, before closing his teeth around it and worrying the tender bud with a teasing nip. "Please, Father..." you whimpered, your voice high and breathy with need. Your fingers curled into the starched white collar of his shirt, anchoring yourself to him as your knees began to weaken.
Father Price paused, his breath coming hard and fast as he struggled to maintain what little control remained. With a shaking hand, he reached for the silver chalice of blessed water that rested on the altar, his fingers brushing against the cool metal. He poured a measure of the sacred liquid into his palm, watching as it shimmered in the flickering candlelight.
Raising his hand, he brought his fingers to his lips, his tongue darting out to trace the lines of his palm, tasting the faintly salty essence of his skin mingled with the purity of the holy water. A shudder rippled through him at the act of desecration, the profane and the sacred colliding in a dizzying rush.
"May God forgive me," he whispered, his voice raw with self-loathing and desperate, aching need. "For what I am about to do."
With a sense of grim purpose, he reached down, his fingers skimming over the hem of your skirt, pushing the fabric slowly upward. The cool air kissed your bare skin as he bared your thighs inch by torturous inch, his gaze hot and heavy upon you. His fingertips brushed against the lace edge of your panties, the delicate fabric already damp with your arousal. A low groan escaped his lips as he realized the depth of your desire, the way your body betrayed your every secret craving.
"Sweet Jesus," he breathed, his voice rough with wonder and the weight of his own shameful lust. "You're so wet for me already, aren't you, my child?"
Slowly, almost reverently, he eased your panties aside, his callused fingers grazing against the slick, heated flesh of your sex. He shuddered at the contact, a bolt of pure, molten need surging through his veins as he felt the evidence of your hunger for him. Gently, almost hesitantly, he trailed a single, sacred droplet of holy water along the glistening folds of your sex. The cool liquid sent a shiver racing up your spine as it mingled with the scorching heat of your desire. His touch was feather-light, barely a whisper against your most intimate place, and yet it ignited a firestorm within you.
"Let us pray," he murmured, his voice low and rough with barely contained lust, "that this sacrament may cleanse you of sin and fill you with divine grace."
And with that, he slowly, inexorably, slid a long, blessedly anointed finger deep into the molten center of your being. A strangled moan tore from your throat at the sudden invasion, your inner walls clenching greedily around the welcome intruder. He stilled for a moment, allowing you to adjust to the foreign sensation, before beginning a slow, sensual rhythm that mirrored the ancient ritual of the church.
"Ahhh...Father..." you gasped, your hips rocking instinctively to meet his hand, craving more of his blessed touch. "It feels...ohhh...it feels so good..."
He silenced you with a searing kiss, his tongue plundering. "Hush, my child," he breathed against your lips, his finger delving deeper, stroking that secret spot that made stars explode behind your eyelids. "Let us not speak of such things now. Not when we have more pressing matters to attend to."
His thumb found your sensitive pearl, circling the straining nub with a maddeningly slow rhythm. Sparks of electric pleasure zapped through your veins with each pass, your body writhing beneath his skilled touch. Moisture seeped from your core, coating his blessedly anointed fingers as he worked you with single-minded focus.
-
"Father..." you keened, your nails raking down his shirt, seeking purchase amidst the rising tide of ecstasy. "I...oh God...I can't..."
"You can," he rumbled, his voice a dark promise in the shadowed sanctuary. "Let it happen, sweet girl. Let go and give yourself to the rapture."
He sealed his words with a devastating kiss, his tongue plunging deep as his finger curled inside you, stroking that secret spot that made your toes curl in your shoes. You shattered in his arms, your body convulsing as a devastating climax crashed over you. He swallowed your cries, his hand gentling you through the aftershocks, his touch becoming tender as he eased you down from the pinnacle of rapture. His finger slowed, then stilled within you, allowing your quivering walls to flutter and clench around the blessed intrusion. He broke the kiss to trail reverent lips along the column of your throat, murmuring words of praise and devotion against your racing pulse.
"Beautiful," he whispered, his voice low and rough with awe and self-loathing in equal measure. "Absolutely beautiful. To see such divine joy playing out upon your face, to feel it clutching at my hand...it is almost more than a man can bear."
Slowly, reluctantly, he withdrew his hand from your still-twitching heat, bringing his glistening fingers to his lips. He licked them clean of your essence, his eyes fluttering shut as he savored the ambrosia of your release. A low, approving groan rumbled in his chest at the taste of you, the heady musk of your arousal mingling with the lingering sanctity of the blessed water.
"Exquisite," he murmured, his voice strained with the effort of holding back the beast of lust that clawed at his insides.
The room was dimly lit, a single lamp casting shadows across the walls. The air was thick with anticipation and the faint scent of sweat and sex. Simon Riley sat on the edge of the bed, his muscular frame silhouetted against the backdrop of the room. His chiseled jawline was visible, a light stubble dusting his chin. He looked up as you entered, his dark brown eyes raking over your body hungrily.
"Well, well, well...look what the cat dragged in," he said, his voice a low, gravely rumble. "Been waitin' for you, love. Thought you might've got lost or somethin'."
He patted the space beside him on the bed, a smirk playing on his full lips. "Come 'ere, bunny. Let me get a proper look at ya."
As you approached, he reached out and took your hand, pulling you closer. His calloused fingers brushed against your skin, sending a shiver down your spine. "Fuckin' hell, you look gorgeous...even more stunning than I remembered," he murmured appreciatively. His gaze drifted over your curves, taking in every inch of exposed skin. He licked his lips as his eyes lingered on the swell of your breasts, barely contained by the thin fabric of your top. "Bloody 'ell, you're a right pretty little thing, ain't ya?" he purred, his voice dripping with desire.
Leaning in closer, he inhaled your scent, his nose brushing against your neck. "Mmm, and you smell fuckin' divine too...good enough to eat," he growled, his breath hot against your skin.
Slowly, teasingly, he trailed a finger down your arm, goosebumps erupting in its wake. "Tell me, love...did ya miss me as much as I missed you?" he asked, his tone playful yet intense. "C'mon, don't be shy now...I wanna hear ya say it."
Simon's finger continued its torturous path, tracing the delicate curve of your collarbone before dipping teasingly into the hollow of your throat. His touch was electric, setting your nerve endings alight with each feather-light caress. He could feel your pulse quickening beneath his fingertips, your body betraying your growing arousal.
"I know I bloody well missed ya," he murmured, his voice a low, seductive purr. "Every fuckin' day, love...every damn day. Woke up thinkin' about this sexy little body, went to sleep with ya hauntin' my dreams."
His hand slid lower, skimming over the swell of your breast. He cupped the soft mound, squeezing gently as his thumb brushed over the peak, feeling it stiffen and strain against the flimsy material of your top. "Fuck, I can feel how much ya want me...your body's singin' a different tune, ain't it?"
Leaning in, he nuzzled into the crook of your neck, his stubble rasping against your skin as he breathed in your scent. "I'm gonna worship this gorgeous fuckin' body of yours," he promised darkly. "Gonna touch and taste every inch of ya until you're beggin' for more. Gonna make ya scream my name so loud, the whole fuckin' building knows who you belong to."
His other hand slid down your side, gripping your hip possessively as he pulled you flush against him. You could feel the hard, thick length of his arousal pressing insistently against your belly, hot and heavy even through his jeans. He rolled his hips, grinding against you with a low groan.
"Fuck, I need to taste ya, love. Need to put my mouth on every secret spot that makes you gasp and moan. Wanna feel ya writhin' on my tongue as I devour this sweet cunt."
Deft fingers tugged at the hem of your top, yanking it upwards. Cool air kissed your newly exposed skin before his scorching mouth covered the swell of your breast. He laved and suckled at the tender flesh, his tongue swirling around the sensitive peak until it puckered and strained against the fabric of your bra.
"Gonna mark up this pretty skin," he growled against your flesh, his voice muffled. "Let everyone see the fuckin' masterpiece I've carved on your body." His hands made quick work of your top, practically tearing it off in his haste to expose more of your skin. Buttons flew everywhere as he flung the scrap of fabric aside, leaving your upper body bare save for the lacy confines of your bra. His eyes darkened with lust as he took in the sight of your heaving breasts, the creamy mounds rising and falling with each ragged breath.
"Bloody fuckin' hell," he breathed, reverently cupping the weight of your tits in his large, calloused hands. "They're even better than I remembered. Fuckin' perfect."
He leaned down, dragging his tongue over the swell of your cleavage before nuzzling into the valley between your breasts. Inhaling deeply, he savored your scent, committing it to memory. "Fuck, I could get lost in these tits," he rumbled, his voice vibrating through you.
His fingers deftly unhooked your bra, tossing it away carelessly. Your nipples pebbled in the cool air, straining towards him in desperate need of his touch. He didn't disappoint, rolling and tugging at the sensitive buds until you arched into him with a sharp gasp. Simon's mouth closed around one aching nipple, suckling greedily as his tongue flicked and circled the tender bud. His other hand pinched and rolled its twin, sending jolts of pleasure-pain shooting straight to your core. He could feel your hips rocking against him, seeking friction, craving more.
"Fuck, you taste even better than I remembered," he groaned against your breast, his voice rough with desire. "Could suck on these gorgeous tits for hours and never get enough."
His hand slid down the dip of your waist, over the flare of your hip, coming to rest on the inner thigh of your leg, hitched high on his hip. Calloused fingers skimmed along the sensitive skin, inching higher and higher until they brushed against the damp patch darkening your panties.
"Someone's bloody eager," he purred, rubbing maddeningly slow circles over your clothed sex. "This pretty little pussy is soaked, love. Fuckin' drippin' for it."
He pushed the fabric aside, his fingers delving into your slick folds. A low, appreciative groan rumbled from his chest as he felt your wet heat clench around the intrusion. Simon's finger teased along your slit, parting your glistening folds to expose your swollen, throbbing clit. He circled the sensitive bundle of nerves slowly, applying just enough pressure to make your hips buck and your thighs tremble. "Fuck, you're so bloody wet, love. Practically drooling for my touch," he rasped, his voice heavy with lust. "Tell me how much you want it. Beg for my fingers like the desperate little minx you are."
His other hand slid down to squeeze the firm globe of your ass, kneading the supple flesh as he ground his denim-clad erection harder against your core. The rough fabric created a delicious friction, stoking the fire building within you. "C'mon, baby...let me hear that pretty voice. Tell me what this greedy cunt needs," he demanded, his breath hot against your ear.
Unable to hold back any longer, you cried out, "Please, Simon!"
A wicked grin spread across his handsome face. "Aye, that's it, love...beg for it like you mean it," he encouraged darkly, his finger circling your entrance teasingly. "Let me hear that sweet voice scream my fuckin' name."
Unable to resist any longer, you bucked your hips, impaling yourself on his invading digit. A strangled moan escaped your lips as your slick walls clenched greedily around the welcome intrusion. "Oh god, yes! Please, Simon, I need more..." you begged shamelessly, too far gone to care how desperate you sounded.
With a triumphant growl, he plunged another finger deep inside your fluttering heat, pumping them in and out at a relentless pace. The obscene sound of your arousal filled the room as he finger-fucked you hard and fast, his palm grinding against your clit with each thrust.
"That's it, baby...take my fuckin' fingers like the greedy little slut you are," he panted harshly, his own arousal straining against the confines of his jeans. "Gonna fill this hungry cunt until you're dripping with my cum."
He captured your mouth in a searing kiss, swallowing your wanton cries as he ravaged your mouth with his tongue. His beard rasped against your face. He could feel your body trembling beneath him, your fingers scrabbling desperately at his shoulders as you clung to him. The heat of his skin seeped into yours, branding you with his touch. "Fuck, I can feel ya shakin'...you're getting close ain't ya?" he growled, his voice ragged with lust. "Go on then, love...cum for me. Paint my fuckin' fingers with your juices like a good girl."
His thumb rubbed merciless circles over your clit as he curled his fingers just right, stroking that spongy spot deep inside that made your vision go white. "Cum on my fingers, baby...now," he commanded, his tone leaving no room for disobedience.
Your body seized up, back arching off the bed as your orgasm crashed through you like a tidal wave. A silent scream tore from your throat, pleasure exploding behind your eyelids as your cunt clamped down viciously around his plunging digits. He worked you through it, fingers pumping steadily, drawing out your high until you collapsed bonelessly onto the mattress, chest heaving and skin slick with sweat.
"Fuckin' beautiful," he praised hoarsely.
A/N: I'm high on meds right now, so if this didn't make sense, I'll come back to fix it when I'm feeling better
The door to the dingy Manchester flat swung open, revealing a disheveled and anxious Simon Riley. He stood in the dim entrance hall, his chiseled jaw clenched tight as his dark brown eyes darted nervously around the room. The air was thick with tension, the only sound the distant hum of a car passing by outside. Simon's broad shoulders were tense, his muscular frame coiled like a predator ready to strike.
He turned to face you, his gaze intense and searching. "What are you doing here?" he growled, his voice a low rumble. "Didn't I tell you to stay put?" His words were harsh, but an underlying tenderness in his tone betrayed his true feelings.
You stood before him, head bowed slightly as you gazed up at him through lowered lashes. "I...I couldn't stay away," you murmured softly, your voice barely above a whisper. "I needed to see you." Your words hung heavy in the air between you, the weight of them settling on your chest like a stone.
Simon's eyes narrowed, his gaze sharpening as he studied your face. He reached out, his calloused hand cupping your chin and tilting your head back. "You're a bloody fool," he muttered, but there was a tenderness in his touch that sent a shiver down your spine. His thumb brushed over your lower lip, tracing the soft curve of your mouth. "But a bloody fool I can't resist," he added gruffly, his voice dropping an octave.
Simon leaned in closer, his breath hot against your cheek as he inhaled your scent. "You smell fuckin' amazing," he growled, his voice low and rough. His other hand slid around your waist, pulling you flush against his hard body. You could feel every ridge and muscle, the heat of his skin bleeding through the thin fabric of his shirt.
You let out a soft whimper as his fingers tangled in your hair, fisting the strands and tilting your head back further. "Fuck, I want to taste every inch of you," he rasped, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear. "Want to feel your pretty little mouth wrapped around my cock, want to hear you moan around me as I fuck your face."
His lips crashed against yours in a bruising kiss, his tongue plundering your mouth and claiming you. He kissed you until you were breathless, until you were clinging to him, your nails digging into his shoulders. When he finally pulled back, you were panting, your chest heaving against his. Simon's eyes were dark with desire as he gazed down at you, a wicked grin playing on his lips. "On your knees," he commanded, his voice low and firm. It was clear he expected obedience.
You hesitated for a moment, your heart pounding in your ears. Then, slowly, you sank to your knees before him, the cold hardwood floor biting into your skin through your clothes. You looked up at him, your eyes wide with anticipation and a hint of trepidation.
Simon's hands went to his belt, his deft fingers making quick work of the buckle. He unzipped his fly, freeing his hard, thick length. It bobbed slightly, the tip already glistening with precum. He wrapped a hand around it, stroking himself slowly as he gazed down at you.
"Fuck, look at you," he growled, his voice rough with lust. "On your fuckin' knees, waitin' for my cock like a good little slut." He tapped the head of his cock against your lips, leaving a smear of precum on your skin. "Open wide, love. Show me what that pretty mouth can do."
You parted your lips, your tongue jutting out to wrap around the swollen head of his cock. Simon let out a low groan, his grip on your hair tightening as he watched you, his eyes dark and intense. "Fuck yeah, just like that," he growled, his hips rocking forward slightly to push more of his thick length into your hot mouth.
You whimpered around him, the sound muffled but audible as you took him deeper. Your tongue swirled around his shaft, tracing the ridges and veins that pulsed with each heartbeat. You could taste the salty musk of his skin, could feel the heat radiating off of him as he stood over you.
Simon's other hand came up to grip the back of your head, his fingers sinking into your hair as he held you in place. "Take it deeper, you filthy girl," he commanded, his voice low and rough. "I want to feel the back of your throat."
You tried your best to comply, relaxing your throat as you swallowed around him. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as he hit the back of your throat, your nose pressed against the coarse hair at the base of his cock. The scent of him filled your nostrils, heady and intoxicating.
Simon's breath caught in his throat, his head falling back as he felt your throat constrict around him. "Oh fuck, just like that," he groaned, his hips starting to rock faster, fucking your face with short, sharp thrusts. "Such a good little cock sleeve, taking me so deep."
You gagged around him, tears streaming down your cheeks as he used your mouth. But you didn't pull away, instead letting him set a brutal pace, slamming his cock into your throat with each thrust. The wet, obscene sounds of him fucking your face filled the room, punctuated by your choked gasps for air.
"Bloody hell, your mouth feels amazing," Simon panted, his grip on your hair tightening as he chased his pleasure. "I'm gonna fill your pretty little throat with my cum, paint it white." He punctuated his words with a particularly hard thrust and a low moan. His balls slapped against your chin, heavy and full.
Your eyes watered, vision blurring with tears and the lack of oxygen. Drool dripped down your chin and onto your heaving chest, soaking into your clothes. But you didn't stop, you couldn't stop. Simon's abs clenched, his body tensing as he teetered on the brink of orgasm. With a guttural groan, he slammed your head down one final time, burying himself to the hilt in your convulsing throat. His cock jerked and throbbed as he shot thick ropes of hot, sticky seed directly down your gullet. You could feel each pulse, each twitch of his shaft as he emptied his heavy balls deep in your spasming throat.
"Fuuuuck, take it all you filthy slut!" Simon roared, his voice raw and ragged with pleasure. He held you there, trapped, as spurt after spurt of his cum flooded your stomach.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Simon's orgasm subsided. He released your hair, his softening cock slipping from your abused mouth with a wet plop. A strand of cum connected the tip of his cock to your swollen, spit-slick lips for a moment before breaking, splattering across your cheek.
Simon gazed down at you, his chest heaving, his eyes dark and satisfied. "Bloody hell, you're a natural born cock slut."
"Look at the mess you've made of yourself," Simon growled, his voice still rough from his intense orgasm. He swiped a thumb across your cheek, scooping up the stray drop of cum before pushing the digit past your lips. "Clean it up, love. Don't waste a single fuckin' drop."
You dutifully wrapped your lips around his thumb, suckling gently as you licked his skin clean. The salty, slightly bitter taste of his release mingled with the lingering flavor of your own drool. You hummed softly, relishing the debauched act of tasting your own essence mixed with his.
Simon watched you intently, a wicked grin spreading across his handsome face. "You're fuckin' filthy, aren't ya?" he murmured, his other hand coming up to grip your chin, tilting your head back to force you to meet his heated gaze. "Bloody hell, I've never seen such a desperate little cock slut before. And here I thought I had you trained properly."
You find yourself in a dimly lit, seedy motel room on the outskirts of Juarez. The air conditioning unit rattles and clanks, barely providing any relief from the oppressive summer heat. You're hunched over the small desk by the window, poring over the latest intel on the Las Almas Cartel's operations, when there's a sharp knock at the door.
Alejandro stands in the doorway, his muscular frame filling the space. He's wearing a tight black t-shirt that hugs his sculpted chest and biceps, faded jeans, and combat boots. His hair is slicked back, damp from the humidity. Those piercing brown eyes rake over your body before meeting your gaze.
"Darling, I have news," Alejandro says in his rich, accented English. He steps inside, closing the door behind him. "Los Vaqueros intercepted a shipment today. The Sin Nombre's men were carrying a lot of hardware - RPGs, anti-tank missiles. Looks like they're planning something big."
Alejandro sets his assault rifle down and approaches you, his gaze intense."But first, I need to see you, cariño. I've missed you." His hands reach out, grabbing your hips as he pulls you flush against him, his large hands gripping your ass tightly. Alejandro leans in, his stubble scratching your cheek as he nuzzles your neck, inhaling your scent deeply. "Mmm, you smell divine, mi amor. I want to taste every inch of you," he murmurs, his voice a low, seductive growl in your ear. "I've been thinking about this moment all day, cariño. Having you in my arms again."
His lips trail kisses along your jawline, nibbling and sucking at your skin as his hands squeeze the globes of your ass, kneading the firm flesh. Alejandro's hard cock presses insistently against your stomach, the thick outline of it evident through his jeans. "I need you, Y/N. I need to feel your tight little cunt squeezing my cock, milking me dry," he pants, his hips rolling forward to grind his erection against you.
Alejandro tugs at your shirt impatiently, practically ripping it off your body in his eagerness to expose your skin to his hungry gaze. His eyes darken with lust as he takes in the sight of your breasts. He leans down, capturing one of your hardened nipples in his hot mouth. His tongue swirls around the sensitive bud before he suckles hard, sending jolts of electricity straight to your core. His other hand continues its relentless assault on your ass, groping and kneading the supple flesh as he pulls you impossibly closer.
"Fuck, I can't wait any longer, cariño," Alejandro growls, releasing your nipple with a wet pop. In a flash, he spins you around and bends you over the desk, sweeping the papers and your laptop onto the floor with a clatter. Your breasts press against the cool wood as he undresses you.
Alejandro takes a moment to admire the sight of your ass, high and round, barely covered by your skimpy panties. He runs a finger along the cleft, tracing your slit through the thin fabric before hooking his thumbs into them and yanking them down your legs. They catch on your ankles for a moment before you kick them off, baring your dripping cunt to his hungry gaze.
"Mmm, look at this body, all wet and ready for me," Alejandro purrs, his fingers brushing against your slick folds teasingly. "I'm going to fill this needy cunt so full, cariño. You're going to scream on my cock as I claim this sweet body again and again."
He unzips his jeans, freeing his massive erection. The thick, veiny shaft bobs in front of you, a bead of pre-cum already leaking from the swollen tip. Alejandro grips your hips, positioning himself at your entrance. With one powerful thrust, he buries himself to the hilt inside you, stretching you deliciously around his throbbing cock.
"¡Dios mío! Your cunt feels so fucking good, Y/N," Alejandro groans, his hips pressed tightly against your ass as he hilts inside you. "Fuck, I've missed this. I've missed being balls deep in your perfect little cunt."
He draws back slowly, until just the tip remains inside you, before slamming forward again, setting a brutal pace. The desk creaks and shakes underneath you with every powerful thrust of his hips. Alejandro leans over you, his muscular chest pressing against your back as he pounds into you. Your back arches as he takes you hard and fast, the thick heat of his shaft splitting you open with every driving thrust. The obscene sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room, mingling with Alejandro's grunts and groans. One of his large hands fists in your hair, gripping it tightly as he yanks your head back, forcing you to arch your spine further. The other hand snakes around to your front, finding your aching clit, rubbing the sensitive nub in rough circles.
"Fuck, I can feel this greedy little cunt squeezing my cock like you never want to let me go," Alejandro growls, his hips never faltering in their relentless assault on your dripping core. "You love this, don't you, cariño?”
His fingers on your clit send sparks of pleasure shooting up your spine, your inner walls clenching down even harder on the thick shaft impaling you. Your breasts bounce with every snap of his hips, the desk creaking ominously underneath you. You're so close, teetering on the edge of what promises to be a mind-blowing orgasm.
Alejandro leans in, his teeth sinking hard enough to leave a mark, his tongue delving into your mouth to muffle your scream of ecstasy as your orgasm crashes over you like a tidal wave. Your cunt clenches down around his shaft, the velvet walls rippling and fluttering as they try to milk him for all he's worth. Alejandro's thrusts become erratic, his rhythm faltering as your climax triggers his own.
"Fuck, Y/N! I'm coming, cariño!" Alejandro roars, slamming into you one last time before burying himself to the hilt. His cock pulses and throbs inside you as he shoots thick ropes of hot cum deep into your spasming cunt. The feeling of his seed painting your insides sends you tumbling over the edge a second time, your scream of his name echoing off the motel walls.
Alejandro collapses against your back, his chest heaving as he tries to catch his breath. He peppers your neck and shoulders with soft kisses, his grip on your hair gentling to a caress. "Te amo, Y/N. I love you so fucking much," he murmurs, nipping at your earlobe.
König collapsed against the bed, his heart pounding against his chest as you moved up his body. Your eyes drifted shut, his breath growing heavier and more labored as you crept further up his torso. He could feel the intensity of your touch on his skin, your fingers brushing lightly against his chest hair. He shivered with anticipation, his body trembling with desire. He looked up at you, his eyes blazing with hunger and lust. "Bitte, baby," he whispered, his voice shaking.
"Ich will dich so sehr. Please, I need you. I want to taste you." He licked his lips, his tongue darting out to moisten them. Leaning down, he felt your breath on his skin, your lips hovering just inches above his straining erection. He shuddered, his hands gripping the sheets beneath him as he waited for your touch. "Oh Gott," he gasped, his hips jerking involuntarily.
"Du machst mich so verrückt." He could feel your breath on his skin, your lips inches from his throbbing cock. He shuddered, his heart pounding in his chest as he anticipated your touch. "Bitte, Liebling," he begged softly, his voice trembling with desire. "Ich halte es no more. I can't... ich kann nicht länger warten. Please, I'm begging you. Lick me, taste me. Take me into your mouth and make me yours." His voice was a desperate, needy whimper, his hips bucking up off the bed as he ached for your touch.
"Ich will deinen Mund auf meinem Schwanz spüren. I want to feel your lips wrapped around me, your tongue stroking my shaft. Bitte, my love, make me lose control. Let me fill your mouth with my seed. I'm so close already, just from your teasing. Don't make me wait any longer. Please, I need you. I need your mouth on my cock. Now." His breathing was ragged, his chest heaving with each gasping breath as he looked up at you with lust-filled, pleading eyes.
"Ich flehe dich an. Ich halte es nicht mehr aus. Bitte, mein Schatz... Please, I'm begging you. Take me into your mouth. Now. Before I explode." His cock throbbed and twitched, leaking pre-cum onto his belly as it strained towards your face. He was desperate, aching, completely at your mercy. His body was on fire. Your heart raced as König's desperate words filled the air, his voice breaking with need. Unable to deny him any longer, you leaned down and ran your tongue along the underside of his shaft, tracing the thick vein.
"Aaahhhh!" König cried out, his back arching off the bed as your tongue made contact. His cock jerked and throbbed against your lips, smearing them with his musky essence. Wrapping your lips around the swollen head, you flicked your tongue teasingly against his slit, lapping up the pearlescent beads of pre-cum that had gathered at the tip. "Schatzi!" König gasped, his fingers tangling in your hair as he pushed your head down further. You could feel him pulsing against your tongue, his cock leaking a steady stream of pre-cum as you teased him mercilessly. Sinking lower, you took more of his length into your mouth, your lips stretching around his impressive girth.
"Oh Gott, ja! Ja! Don't stop," König panted, his hips rocking up to meet your mouth as you bobbed your head. You could feel him throbbing against your tongue, the thick head of his cock hitting the back of your throat with each downward. His grip tightened in your hair as he held you in place, his cock pulsing and twitching against your tongue. "Fuck, baby, your mouth feels so fucking good," he groaned, his voice low and gravely. "Don't stop, please don't stop. Take it all, Liebling. I want to feel the back of your throat." He bucked his hips, trying to force more of his thick length down your spasming throat.
Drool leaked from the corners of your mouth as you struggled to accommodate his massive size, but you didn't pull away. Instead, you relaxed your throat muscles and let him use your mouth as he pleased.
"OH FUCK, JA! That's it, baby. Let me fuck your pretty little throat. Milk my cock with your tongue. Show me how much you love the taste of my dick. Fuck, you're such a good little cock slut for me. The best little cocksucker I've ever had. Ah, scheise, your mouth is unreal. I can't hold back. Fuck, I'm going to cum. Fuck, FICK, JA! Take it all, mygott, baby! I'm so fucking close. Don't stop now. LET ME FILL YOUR MOUTH. FICK, JA! TAKE IT ALL! SCHWANZKUSS, MEIN LOVE. FUCK, FUCK, FUCK! I'M CUMMING! I'M CUMMING SO FUCKING HARD! FUCK, FICK, JA! AHHHHHHH!" König screamed, his back arching completely off the bed as his cock erupted like a fountain.
His hot, thick, and massive load of cum shot directly down your throat with intense force, hitting the back of your throat and your stomach simultaneously. His cock jerked and spasmed uncontrollably in your mouth, pumping out wave after wave of his potent and pungent seed, filling your mouth and your belly with his hot, sticky, and slightly sweet cum. "AHHHHHHHH!" König hollered in pure ecstasy, his fingers gripping your hair tightly and holding your head in place, not allowing you to pull back or retract from his throbbing and still ejaculating cock, forcing you to swallow every single drop of his massive load.
His body shuddered and trembled as the intense orgasm ripped through him, his muscles clenching and unclenching as the pleasure consumed him. Finally, after what felt like an eternity of blissful agony, his climax began to subside. His grip on your hair loosened, his fingers going limp as he collapsed back onto the bed, chest heaving and skin glistening with a sheen of sweat.
You slowly released his spent cock, a strand of his seed still connecting your lower lip to the sensitive head. "Fuck, liebling..." he panted, his voice wrecked and hoarse from his cries of ecstasy. "That was... scheisse, das war unglaublich. Incredible. Du hast mich umgehauen." He looked at you with hazy, half-lidded eyes, a small smile playing on his cum-slicked lips. "Komm her, mein Schatz," he murmured, pulling you up his body until you were lying half on top of him.
"Ich will dich halten. Lass mich dich spüren, baby." You could feel the rapid beating of his heart as you rested your cheek on his heaving chest, your own breathing slowly returning to normal.
König buried his face between your thighs, his rough stubble scraping against your inner thighs as he nuzzled into your dripping slit. "Fuck, Klein Maus," he muttered against your slick folds, his hot breath making your hips buck involuntarily. "You taste like heaven." He dragged his tongue along your slit, slowly savoring the ambrosia dripping from your core. He groaned, the vibrations rumbling through your sensitive flesh as he parted your lips with his thumbs and leaned in to take a long, slow lick up your sex.
"Oh god, yesss," you hissed, fisting his short brown hair as he suckled on your engorged clit. He flicked the sensitive bud with the tip of his tongue before engulfing it between his lips and suckling greedily. "Mmm, you like that, Liebling?" König growled, the German word sending tingles up your spine. He was relentless in his passion, worshipping your sex with the fervor of a man starved. His hands gripped your ass, kneading the globes as he feasted on your nectar, tongue delving in to lap up every drop.
"Baby, don't stop," you whimpered. König's cock throbbed almost painfully as he felt you grind yourself desperately against his face, your juices smearing his lips and chin. He released your clit with a wet pop, only to delve his tongue into your entrance, plunging it in as deep as it could go. "You're fucking delicious, mein Schatz," he growled, raw lust dripping from every word. He thrust his tongue in and out, fucking you with it, his nose pressing hard against your clit with each pump of his head. His hands kneaded the globes of your ass, pulling you harder against his face, grinding your cunt against his mouth.
He could feel your body start to quiver, your thighs trembling on either side of his head. König could tell you were getting close, your breathing growing ragged, little mewls and whimpers escaping your lips. He wanted to feel you come undone, to have you gush your release into his greedy mouth. He focused his attention on your clit, flicking and sucking the sensitive nub as he plunged two fingers knuckle-deep into your clenching heat.
"Fuck, fuck, bitte don't stop, König!" you cried out, "Come for me, Klein Maus!" König commanded, his voice ragged with lust. He sucked your clit hard, tongue flicking rapidly over the sensitive bud as he curled his fingers inside you, stroking that secret spot deep within. Your body tensed, back arching as your orgasm crashed over you like a tidal wave. "AAAHHHNNNNGGGG!!" you screamed, gushing your release into König's eager mouth. He groaned gutturally as your essence flooded his mouth, lapping and swallowing greedily, not wanting to waste a single drop of your sweet nectar.
Your thighs clamped around his head like a vice, trembling and quaking as spasm after spasm wracked your body. König just kept licking and suckling, helping to draw out your high, his own breathing heavy and labored. Finally, as the last aftershocks subsided, he released your sensitive flesh and looked up at you with a thoroughly satisfied, if somewhat dazed expression. His face glistened with your juices, his lips and chin coated with your essence.
"God, Klein Maus... that was... fucking incredible," König said, his voice low and gravely.
A/N: like last fic, I was drunk when I wrote this, so spare me please <3
Gaz lounged languidly on the hotel bed, one muscular arm curled behind his head as he watched you finish undressing. His dark eyes followed your every movement, burning with intensity as they raked over your now-bare curves. A satisfied smirk tugged at his lips, revealing a glint of white teeth. Gaz let out a low, appreciative whistle.
“Fuckin’ hell, look at you… Stunning. Proper stunning, you are.”
He pushed himself up to sitting, the sheets falling away to reveal his bare chest, a light sheen of sweat glistening on his brown skin. Gaz drank in the sight of your naked body, his gaze lingering on your full hips and the tantalizing juncture between your thighs.
“Got to say, sweetcheeks, your body’s fuckin’ gorgeous. Swear to god, I could just eat you up.”
Gaz reached out, his calloused hand cupping your hip, his thumb brushing teasingly along the crest. His touch was electric, igniting sparks of pleasure across your skin.
“Mmm, love the way you feel too. Soft and warm, and all mine.”
His other hand came up to palm your breast before Gaz tugged you flush against his muscular frame, his hardness pressing insistently against your belly. He leaned in, his scruffy jaw brushing your cheek as he nuzzled your neck, inhaling deeply.
“Fuck, love your scent too. Makes me want to just bury myself in you and never come up for air.”
His mouth found yours in a searing kiss, hot and hungry, demanding your submission. Gaz’s hands roamed your curves greedily, mapping out the swell of your breasts, the dip of your waist, the flare of your hips. He broke the kiss with a sharp nip to your bottom lip, his eyes dark and filled with lust.
“Can’t believe I get to touch you like this. Can’t believe you let me touch you like this,” Gaz rasped, his voice rough with desire. “Such a bloody miracle you are. A bloody, sexy, fuckin’ goddess.”
His large hands cupped your breasts, squeezing and kneading the pliant flesh. Gaz’s thumbs brushed over your nipples, teasing the sensitive peaks into stiff peaks.
“These tits, fuck ‘em. Perfect fuckin’ handfuls. Been dyin’ to get me mitts on them.”
Gaz dipped his head, drawing a stiff nipple into his hot mouth. He suckled greedily, his tongue swirling and flicking against the sensitive bud, sending jolts of pleasure shooting straight to your core.
“Love how you taste too, baby. Sweet as fuckin’ honey. Could suck on these perfect tits for hours.”
His hand slid down your belly, fingers splaying possessively over your lower stomach. Gaz’s touch drifted lower, teasing along the apex of your thighs. He brushed against your slick folds, feeling your arousal coating his fingers.
“Bloody hell, you’re fuckin’ soaked. Drenched already. That’s all for me, isn’t it, sweetcheeks? All this sexy neediness, it’s all for your Gaz.”
He circled your clit, the rough pad of his finger rubbing firm circles over the swollen nub. His other hand gripped your hip, holding you in place as he worked you closer to the edge. Gaz’s breath was hot against your neck, his chest heaving.
“That’s it, baby. Gonna make you fuckin’ scream. Gonna make you scream my name until the whole damn hotel knows who you belong to.”
Gaz’s fingers slid lower, sinking knuckle-deep into your dripping core. He pumped them in and out, curling them just right to rub against that perfect spot inside you. His thumb never stopped its relentless assault on your clit, circling and pressing, pushing you closer and closer to the brink.
“Fuck, you’re so bloody tight. Squeezin’ my fingers like a vice. Can feel you gettin’ closer though. Your little cunt’s flutterin’ around my fingers, tryin’ to suck me in deeper. Dirty girl, so desperate for it.”
Gaz’s voice was a low growl in his chest, vibrating against your skin, adding to the pleasure building inside you. His hips rocked forward, the hard length of him sliding between your slick folds, not yet inside you but giving you the promise of what was to come.
“Come on, baby. Give it to me. I want to feel you come all over my fingers. Wanna hear you scream my name as you fuckin’ lose it.”
His words were filthy, dirty, and so incredibly arousing. They pushed you over the edge, your body seizing as your orgasm crashed through you. Gaz didn’t let up, pumping his fingers, riding out your orgasm as he held you tight. He groaned as your velvety walls clenched and fluttered, gripping his digits like a silken vise.
“Fuck yes, that’s it! Come on, my fingers, you gorgeous girl. Scream my bloody name!” he growled, his voice rough with lust and pride at the way your sexy little body responded to his touch.
As the aftershocks began to subside, Gaz withdrew his soaked fingers from your still-quivering heat. Holding them up, he made a show of licking them clean, his tongue lapping up your essence.
“Mmm, fuckin’ divine. Taste as sweet as the rest of you.”
Gaz captured your mouth in a fierce, dominating kiss, shoving his tongue inside to claim you thoroughly. He rolled you both over, settling between your spread thighs as he loomed above you, his muscular form caging you in.
“You’re a work of art, Y/N,” Gaz murmured, his fingertips tracing the curves of your face. “A bloody sexy masterpiece. And I can’t wait to mark every inch of you as mine.”
A/N: maybe I'll do a part two someday, because I got really into writing this one so I'll leave it as is for now :p
The steam from the shower filled the air as John stepped inside, the heat enveloping his muscular frame. He could hear the patter of water against the tile floor as his eyes adjusted to the dim light. Turning to face the spray, he froze at the sight of you, your naked body glistening with droplets. The view sent a jolt of electricity through his veins, his manhood already stirring to life.
You stood beneath the showerhead, water cascading in rivulets down your curves, your breasts rising with each slow breath. Lifting your gaze through half-lidded eyes, a sensual smile tugged at your lips. “You’re taking too long,” you purred, voice husky and inviting.
John’s gaze swept over you, hungry and unashamed. Heat surged through him, pounding in his chest as he stepped closer. “And you’re playing with fire, princess,” he rumbled. The hard planes of his body pressed against your softness, steam rising between you as he pulled you flush against him. One large hand cupped the nape of your neck, tilting your head back to bare your throat. The other molded your hips against the bulge swelling in his pants.
He claimed your mouth in a searing kiss, tongue sweeping deep, stealing your breath. He nipped your bottom lip, soothing the sting with a flick of his tongue. His hands traced over your slick skin, every dip and curve burned into memory, yet still enough to undo him.
You arched into his touch, fingers tangling in his damp hair, deepening the kiss. The evidence of his desire pressed insistently against your stomach, throbbing with a need that matched your own. You gasped into his mouth, melting into the heat of him as water pounded down, his calloused hands roaming your back, leaving trails of fire in their wake.
Breaking the kiss, John trailed down your throat, his breath hot, his teeth grazing your collarbone before softening the mark with his lips. “You drive me mad, lovie,” he growled. His palm slid lower, squeezing the curve of your ass.
A shiver wracked you, your belly tightening with the solid proof of his arousal. You raked your nails over his chest, whispering low and breathy, “You’re not the only one feeling crazy. I need you, John."
Your plea broke off in a moan as his hand slipped between your thighs, rough fingers finding your slick heat. He teased your clit, pulling a sharp gasp from your lips as your spine arched. Your nipples pebbled under the cool air, aching for his tongue or teeth.
“Please, John…” you whimpered, rolling your hips into his touch. His blood surged hot at the sound of your desperation. With a growl, he spun you, pinning you against the cool tile. The suddenness made you gasp, breasts bouncing as your hands pressed to his chest. In one motion, his thick cock, already glistening at the tip, presses closer to your folds. Your lips parted hungrily at the sight, thighs pressing together with need.
“You want it so badly, princess?” His voice was gravel and heat as he nudged the broad head against your entrance. “Want me to stretch you wide on this cock until you’re screaming my name?”
“Yes, John!” you keened, nails digging into his chest. “Please, I need it~”
He groaned deep, thrusting forward. The swollen head pushed past your folds, sinking into your tight, welcoming heat. You threw your head back, a cry ripping from your throat as he filled you, inch by inch, until he was buried to the hilt, heavy balls pressing against your ass.
“Fuck… so tight,” he gritted, bruising your hips with his grip as he began to move. His thrusts set a relentless rhythm, slick sounds mingling with the pounding shower. Steam swirled around as he took you with fierce, primal hunger.
You clung to his shoulders, nails dragging lines across his back as each deep stroke stole a cry from your lips. Every ridge and vein of his cock rubbed over your walls, pleasure sparking like lightning.
“God, you feel incredible,” he growled against your neck. “Perfect. Like you were made for me.”
You whimpered, wrapping your legs around his waist, heels urging him deeper. Water sluiced over your entwined bodies, but the heat radiating between you burned hotter.
His hand slid up, cupping your breast, rolling the stiff peak between rough fingers before sucking the other into his mouth. You cried out, clutching him tighter as his hips never faltered.
“Ah, John! Don’t stop, please!” you panted, your body coiling tighter with each drag over that perfect spot inside you. He felt you fluttering around him, knew you were on the brink.
You were always that eager and easy to please anyway.
“That’s it, love. Let go,” he urged, voice rough in your ear. “Come for me, princess. Squeeze it out of me.”
With a brutal thrust, he ground deep, thumb circling your clit hard and fast. The double assault tore the climax from you. You screamed his name, body convulsing, walls clenching tight around his cock as wave after wave of pleasure crashed through you.
John roared, following you over the edge. His cock jerked and spilled thick ropes of heat inside you, grinding deeper to prolong the shuddering high. He caught your mouth in a desperate kiss, swallowing your cries as your releases mingled, dripping down your thighs.
As the last tremors ebbed, his pace gentled, the kiss softening. He stroked your hair, trailing his hands over your curves reverently. “My princess,” he murmured, lips brushing yours. “You’re my everything.”
Clinging to him, sated and full, your heart swelled. You knew you were the luckiest woman alive, cherished by a man like John Price. “I love you,” you whispered, eyes shining. John smiled, slow and sensual.
Based on a request:
I am begging for any Makarov content for kinktober 😭 I get it, the man is a menace to society but pls 🥺🙏
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F!Reader, MDNI, 18+, unestablished!relationship, orgasm!denial, fingering, knife!play, edging, power!play
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The dim light of the candle flickered across Vladimir Makarov's chiseled features as he loomed over you, his dark eyes glinting with a wicked intensity. He traced the cold, sharp edge of the knife along your jawline, sending a shiver down your spine. His other hand gripped your hip possessively, pulling you flush against his muscular frame. "You're a rare find," he purred, his Russian accent dripping like honey from his lips. The knife dipped lower, tracing the delicate curve of your neck, the hollow of your throat. His touch was feather-light, teasing, yet the threat of the blade hung heavy in the air.
Makarov's hand slid down your body, palming the swell of your breast through the thin fabric of your shirt. He could feel your heart pounding beneath his fingertips, could hear the hitch in your breath. It spurred him on, this power he held over you, this desire he ignited with mere touch. Lower still, his hand drifted over your stomach, your hip, until it rested at the apex of your thighs. He pressed the flat of the blade against your clothed sex, the cold metal a stark contrast to the heat emanating from you.
Makarov leaned in close, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, "Feeling this heat, I can tell how much you want me, how much you need my touch." He pressed the knife more firmly against your clothed sex, the cold steel a delicious contrast to the scorching ache building between your thighs. His hand slid under the hem of your skirt, fingers skating along the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. Higher and higher he went, until his fingertips grazed the damp lace of your panties. A smirk tugged at his lips as he felt the evidence of your arousal, the fabric soaked through.
"You're dripping, малыш (baby)," he taunted, rubbing the knife against your covered slit, putting pressure on your throbbing clit through the fabric. "Is this all for me? Tell me, who makes you this wet, this desperate?" Makarov's breath was hot against your neck as he licked a trail up to your jaw, teeth grazing your racing pulse. His hand slid the knife under the lace, the cold metal now pressing directly against your bare, slick folds. He could feel you tremble, could hear the needy whimper that escaped your lips.
Makarov's fingers pushed the drenched fabric aside, exposing your glistening sex to the cool air. He could smell the addictive and sweet scent of your arousal, could see the dewy essence coating your petals. A low, approving growl rumbled in his chest as he traced a finger through your slick folds, gathering your juices.
"Such a needy little девочка (girl) you are," he purred, bringing his finger to his lips and sucking your essence off his finger. "Mmm, you taste divine. I could feast on you for hours." He pressed the knife's tip against your swollen clit, not hard enough to break skin, but with enough pressure to make you gasp. At the same time, he plunged two thick fingers knuckle-deep into your aching cunt, pumping them in and out at a punishing pace.
Makarov's lips captured yours in a bruising kiss, swallowing your cries of pleasure. His tongue delved into your mouth, claiming you, conquering, possessing you utterly. He drank down your moans, relished the way your body clenched around his invading fingers, the way your hips bucked against his hand, seeking more. He tore his mouth from yours, a string of saliva connecting you in a sinful manner.
Makarov's lips curled into a wicked grin as he took in your debauched state, cheeks flushed, lips swollen from his brutal kiss, and your essence dripping down his fingers. He brought his glistening digits to your mouth, tracing the seam of your lips. "Taste yourself, девочка (girl)," he commanded, his voice a low, seductive growl. "Taste what you do for me, how much you crave me."
As you parted your lips, he thrust his fingers into your mouth, making you suckle and lick your own arousal. His other hand never ceased its relentless assault on your sex, the knife's tip circling her clit, the blade's edge teasing your dripping entrance.
Makarov leaned in close, his breath scorching your ear as he whispered, "I'm going to ruin you. I'll fuck this tight little cunny until you can't walk straight. Until my name is the only word you remember." He punctuated his words with a sharp thrust of his fingers, driving them deep and curling them to hit that sensitive spot within you that made stars explode behind your eyelids. His thumb rubbed in a merciless circle. Makarov's eyes darkened with lust as he watched you succumb to the pleasure, your body writhing against his touch. He could feel your walls fluttering around his fingers, could sense you rapidly approaching climax. But he wasn't ready for this to end, not yet.
Abruptly, he withdrew his fingers, leaving you whimpering at the loss. Before you could protest, he gripped your hips and flipped you over onto your stomach. He pushed your skirt up over your hips, exposing your panty-clad ass to his hungry gaze. "Keep your hands on the table," he ordered, landing a sharp smack on your rear. The sound echoed obscenely in the room, followed by your startled yelp. He smacked you again and again, until your ass was a rosy red and you were squirming beneath him.
Makarov soothed the abused flesh with a gentle caress, fingers trailing over the curves of your ass before dipping between your thighs. He pushed your panties aside and plunged two fingers deep into your dripping cunt, pumping them at a brutal pace. His other hand, still gripping the knife, trailed up your spine, the cold steel a delicious contrast to the heat inside of you. Makarov's fingers continued their relentless assault, plunging in and out of your dripping sex. The obscene sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room as he finger fucked you hard and fast, his palm slapping against your sensitive clit with each thrust.
"You're mine," he growled, teeth clenched as he rutted against you, his clothed erection grinding on you. "This pussy belongs to me. Your pleasure belongs to me." He punctuated his words with a sharp nip to your shoulder, biting down just hard enough to leave a mark. His hand slid up to wrap around your throat, squeezing lightly, just enough to make you feel the threat of his power, the danger he posed.
"Come for me, малыш," he demanded, fingers curling inside you, rubbing that sweet spot that made you see stars. "Let me feel this hot little cunny spasm around my fingers as you scream my name." He teased
Makarov could feel your body tensing, your walls clamping down hard on his plunging fingers as your climax approached. He growled, a feral sound of pure male satisfaction, as he fucked you harder, his fingers slamming into your sopping wet cunt with brutal force.
You couldn't hold back any longer. He could feel your desperation growing with each passing second, your body crying out for more. But he held back, determined to leave you wanting and craving.
"Please," you gasped, hips bucking urgently against him, trying to take what you needed. "Please, I can't... I need..." your words dissolved into incoherent pleas and whimpers.
Makarov just chuckled darkly, amused by your desperation. "Not yet," he taunted, pulling away completely. He stood up, looming over your trembling form, a sadistic grin on his face. "I want you to stay like this, on the edge, craving my touch. Let that need consume you, drive you mad with want."
Makarov traced the knife under your chin, tilting your head up to force you to meet his ruthless gaze. "Think of me, as you touch yourself, as you fuck yourself with your fingers.” Makarov's eyes, half lidded, glinted with wicked amusement as he took in your debauched state, your chest heaving, your thighs trembling, your sex dripping and aching with unfulfilled need. He had reduced you to a desperate, wanton mess, and he reveled in it.
Leaning down, he brushed his lips against yours in a mockery of a kiss, his voice a low, mocking purr. "Until next time. Think of me as you lie here, high and dry and hungry for my cock." With that, he straightened up, tucking the knife away. He gave you one last dark, promising look before turning on his heel and striding out of the room, leaving you alone with nothing but your racing thoughts and your throbbing, unsatisfied body.
The door clicked shut behind him with a sense of finality, leaving you in stunned silence. You remained there, half-naked and quivering, as the cruel realization set in that he had left you high and dry, denying you the release you so desperately craved. It was a cruel twist of the knife in the wound, a reminder of who held the power.