simon ghost riley is sometimes a little blunt (warning: smut)
You adore him for who he is, but it still unnerves you with just how blunt he can be at times.
It usually happens privately with just you:
“In about 5 minutes, I’m gonna eat you out.” He says as you are in the middle of The Goblet of Fire on the couch. You almost choked on your popcorn.
Or you’re doing laundry in the morning. “We need pineapple juice next time we’re out, want you to enjoy swallowing next time you’re suckin me off.” Jaw dropped.
He does it in front of the team too- and sometimes it’s even worse:
You accidentally dropped your lip balm onto the bar floor while fishing it out of your purse and bend to pick it up.
“Haven’t seen that angle in a while, dove. It’s been too long since we done doggy.”
It’s a never-ending series of eyebrow raises when Simon decides to open up his mouth and you’re around, needless to say. You brunt all of the embarrassment and the deep blushes, Simon couldn’t give a shit. He didn’t even clock it when John, Johnny and Kyle would all give him shocked looks. Man just owns it. Completely unbothered.
“Youre wearin the skirt you wear when you wanna get fucked. That your goal?”
“Simon!” You hiss, you can feel the red hot heat rush to your face.
But he just stares back at you, waiting for your response. You can hardly believe how composed he is when his Captain is right there glaring at him.
“So?”
“I need another beer.” John excuses himself, he can’t even look you in the eyes right now. Kyle joins him shortly after making a run for it, but you’re left with a quiet Johnny patiently waiting for you to respond. Eager, almost. Joy.
“You can’t just say things like that in public, especially not in front of your friends!” You lecture, pulling down your skirt in the process.
“Why? If you wanted to fuck, you could’ve just said so, love. Give me 2 to down this pint and I’ll meet you in the toilets, yeah?”
“Simon!” You smack his thigh.
“Can I watch?” Johnny asks excitedly.
“No!-“ “Fine.”
Johnny’s face lights up while yours gives Simon a death stare.
“Do you want it or not?” You roll your eyes and throw your purse over your shoulder.
“You two are ridiculous.” And they watch you walk away.
Simon only shrugs, pounding back his beer before coming after you. Doesn’t make a difference to him if he fucks you here and now or at home and later.
Do you think König is hairy or no? like hairy forearms? Belly, chest, happy trails, down there ya know? do you think he’s cleanly shaved or just trims?
Oh, you're asking if König is hairy? Absolutely. Covered. Head to toe. Not an inch of his skin isn't hairy.
König attempts to keep himself somewhat trimmed, especially during the summer. But, he doesn't enjoy feeling bare. If anything, being covered in thick body hair makes him feel masculine, giving him a confidence boost. It's bad for his ego, honestly. Only when you complain about it, will he trim it down. Not completely, but a light trim for your enjoyment is worth it. Definitely not cleanly shaved, or at least not now, especially in his early forties. During his early twenties, he was quite particular and picky about his body hair, always desired it to be nearly trimmed, and occasionally cleanly shaven.
He's a rough, hairy, nerdy old man, what can I say?
Forearms are super hairy, and don't get me started on the length of his leg hairs. It's an auburn, occasionally strawberry blonde colour. During the summertime and spring, his hair lightens, while his hair darkens to almost brunette during autumn and winter. He has wispy hairs along his abdomen, that get covered in spurts of his semen when he jerks himself off beside you in bed in the early hours of the morning. He adores when you grind and rock your hips against him, straddling his waist and coating his pale, flushed, and freckled skin in a thin layer of your sweet, addictive arousal.
Jerk him off and drag your tongue along his sticky happytrail. Please.
you are literally the best cod writer on this app. hands down. I was wondering if you could write simon and reader getting a noise complaint the morning after he literally makes dents in the wall from the headboard slamming, reader whining, you choose the rest. your writing is literally art 💋
EHEH ARE YOU SERIOUS 🥹🥹 squealing, blushing, kicking my feet 🤭🌷
MDNI. flashbacks of rough sex, sexual language !!
you couldn’t help the butterflies that ricocheted off the walls of your stomach when your husband shot a coy smirk over his shoulder at you. the feds were at the door — clipboard in hand. “sir, we received several noise complaints throughout the night and into the early hours of this morning. . .”
oh.
‘ungh~ tha’sit, lovie.” he croaked against the shell of your ear — the moist, matted foliage of his pelvic bush kissing your swollen clit with ever piston of his drilling hips against yours. “missed ya s’much, darlin.” his voice, husk and dry, reverberated against your sweat-damp temple where gentle pecks left affectionate stamps in their wake. “feel so good squeezin me like that, mmf~”
“oh yeah?” your husband responds, feigning oblivion. “y’sure they was complainin ‘bout us, lads?” they nod at that, peering past the hunk of your husband to acknowledge your smaller self. “yes, sir. said it wasn’t the first time.” they look back to simon, dragging their eyes up his six-foot-something bulk. “apparently this happens whenever you come home.”
“that so?” simon irks them, his pride potent in his tone and stature. “what’d they tell ya?”
“missed you, si!” you whined, nails raking down the taut flesh of his expansive back. “so big!” you complemented, eyes performing somersaults within their sockets. “so good!” and it was. your husband’s thick cock had never felt better; solid pudge rocking into the soft slope of your now no-doubt pregnant stomach whilst his girthy prick went to town on your innards. you mewled, slender digits clawing the memento of that night into his muscular body as his vigorous movements bashed the headboard into the wall behind.
“your neighbours heard a loud ‘banging’ from about dinner time onwards, mister riley.” one officer informs him. “yeah, and what sounded like screaming up until 4 the ‘morrow.” the other adds. you know your husband’s ego just grew ten sizes bigger, his dick likely swelling also. “really?” simon humours them, smirk blatantly present as he says so. you giggle, hand flying to cover your mouth as an embarrassed flush taints your cheeks a raw maroon.
“s-simon! the wall!” you cried, wept. blissful tears poured from your hooded eyes as you craned your neck backward — the paint on the wall crumbling as the metal frame of your headboard collided with it with each of his aggressive thrusts. “leave it.” he grunted, fucking into your exhausted pussy with increased force. “let the whole fuckin’ house tumble down.” hissed into your gaping mouth; tongues tangling and saliva accumulating. “let everyone know who’s fuckin’ you dumb like this, yeah? makin you scream ‘til you cum nice an’ hard.” and you did — milking his fat prick dry as a ring of cream slickened around his hairy base. “cum on this cock, love”
“just thought we better have a look ‘round, if you’s don’t mind.”
simon looks back to where you’re watching with a blush. “not at all, officers.” he winks, to which the heat that blushes your flustered face dives southbound to narrow on your throbbing cunt. “c’mon in.” and of course he directs them upstairs first.
“you can do it, sweet’art.” he groaned into your moaning mouth. “let ‘em hear ya.” his pace picked up, inflated balls bouncing off the underside of your upturned arse as he hammered his heavy cock against the roof of your bruised cervix. “let ‘em know who’s home.” your eyes rattled until their whites were visible, pupils rolling back to stare your brain down when his weeping cockhead bumped into your cunt’s velvety roof — pre-cum mingling with the cream of your impending climax. “that’s it, love. hug me nice and tight.” you let out a strangled squeal at his words, voice breaking whilst he battered your smaller frame into the creaking mattress. the bed frame shook, swaying back and forth in tandem with his zealous rhythm. “gonna wake the neighbours.” you slurred through spit-covered lips — red and puckered. “good.” simon retorted, muffled by the slaps of skin ploughing skin.
“how did this happen?” one of the cops asks, gesturing to where the wall has eroded. the plaster beneath reveals exposed brick where next door attaches to the structure of your abode, loose wiring and pipes hanging down. the headboard is dented, the paint from it now transferred onto what remains of the wall behind. “wear ‘n tear.” simon shrugs, slinging a lazy arm around your shoulders. you lean into him, legs still aching from last night. “besides.” he adds, slyly pinching your backside. “was happy to see the missus.”
blue collar or cowboy!simon riley who would fuck you in the bed of his truck
simon was always out working so hard all day, coming home with dirt caked on his clothes. you'd have to scold him when he would track mud through the house—that you had just cleaned from whenever he came in yesterday.
he'd grovel, pressing kisses to the bare skin of your shoulder, the well-worn, holed shirt you stole from him slipping off your frame. muttering promises between each press of his lips further up your neck, along your jaw.
who are you to resist?
and who is he to either?
your pants pooled at your ankles, shirt hiked up your back and drooping off one shoulder. your inner thighs are slick and glistening with arousal and saliva.
a rough hand pushes down on your back, further squishing your chest into the hard metal of his truck bed, another grasping firmly at the fat of your backside where simon's face is lapping at your dripping cunt.
soft mewls cry from your lips, hands reaching back to grasp as his head, fingers tangling through the shirt locks of dirty blond. he only grunts in response—sorry, luvie, he's in heaven.
your legs are trembling, knees threatening to buckle under you with three orgasms already coaxed out of you on his tongue alone, milking you of your sweet, slick nectar.
your quiet, strained cries do nothing, but aid the tightness in his dirtied jeans, his cock oozing arousal in his boxers, dampening the fabric beyong his zipper. every involuntary shift of his hips causes more friction and tension with the denim, sending a groan throughout your pussy.
his noises vibrate against your pussy, shocking your overstimulated, and oversensitive, clit. all you can do is cry out as he pushes himself deeper, closer. his tongue is merciless, selfish as he threatens to swallow you whole.
at this point, you're begging for relent, repeated pleas of his name falling from your lips as the familiar heat builds in your tummy, and you writhe under his hands. the cold metal turning warm under you as it digs into your skin.
everything becoming overstimulating as the world begins to spin, jaw going slack, saliva pooling in your mouth as it threatens to spill over your swollen lips.
tears are streaming down your flushed face, your hair is frizzy and eyes are practically rolling to the back of your head as yet another release washes over you, sending a shudder through your body.
simon finally pulls his face away from the heaven between your thighs, not without flattening his tongue over your cunt for a last taste.
the lower half of his face glistening, coated in your juices, he desperately licks his lips to savor it. as he stands up from his position, his hand on your back pushes you back down onto the bed of his truck.
"n't done, luvie, be'a gud girl 'nd stay still," he kneaded the flesh of your backside, groaning at the sight in front of him.
his hands meet your hips, pulling you back on his clothed erection. a small yelped wince escapes your lips at the friction against your sensitive cunt. your frayed nerves against the harsh material that soaks up your arousal and previous releases.
you whine as he rocks his hips slowly, grunting as he watches the material dampen so easily before he pulls away from your hips.
his movements are hasty, not wasting any more time as he barely undoes his belt and zipper, freeing his heavy cock from the constraints of his jeans.
he whines softly at the warmth of your puffy, swollen folds as he rubs his cockhead up and down your pussy before catching your slit.
he groans at the tightness that welcomes him, the slick, clamping, spongy walls that pulse around his dick almost milks him of every last drop of sperm that fills his heavy balls.
your voice is hoarse, almost gone by the time his cokc is sheathed in you, his cockhead brushing your cervix as you feel the precum oozing from his slit. you can feel every prominent vein of his cock against your spongy walls, they're practically ingrained in you, your pussy molded to take his dick.
a creamy, white circle forms at the base of his cock as he forces his entire length inside, his girthy dick stretching your weeping pussy with loud, lewd squelches.
he doesn't give you time—he's selfish tonight, unapologetically so because luvie, he didn't track any dirt through the house! this is him rewarding himself for being so good! you can't discourage that, can you?
it isn't long until your backside is red, his hips pistioning into your sopping cunt, the sight of your slick pussy swallowing his red, angry cock so needily, sucking him in so desperately and clamping around him was addicting, and the feel even more so. his pace isn't nice, it's mean, and relentless, and bruising.
"fuck, lovie, couldn' wait t'hav ya," he whined in your ear, his cock drilling into your tight hole as he nipped at your earlobe. calloused, rough and dirty hands kneading the fat of your ass, a sharp slap to your skin causing it to turn even more flushed and red as he fucked himself stupid.
he was pussy-drunk, drool dripping from his cracked, dry lips onto the expanse of your shoulder. he'd press lewd, wet kisses against your supple skin, adding to the trails of saliva that pooled from his lips.
you'd have bruises the shape of his fingers on your ass for days, maybe even a week after, because of how hard his hands grasp your backside, pulling you back onto his cock as he milks himself dry.
"need t'fill y'r pussy, baby," his voice comes out a low, rough whine, despite the heavy grasp and force he exerts, "fuck, 's all f'me, ain't it?"
he'd always make sure to put dirt on the floors if it meant making it up to you by stuffing his face between your thighs.
or, making sure to kick off his boots outside the door if it meant rewarding himself like this, again, and again, and again.
This was inspired by a Tiktok I saw from the creator CrëëpyKönig (Spooky Vexx)! So if you enjoy please go show them love and please remember to be kind and respectful 🩷 Link attached!
Master List✍🏽
>cw: fem/afab, bullying, stalking, obsessive König, non-con, p in v, biting, anal, humiliation, recording
1.6k word count
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On KorTac’s base, König is known as a bully. He is a massive, arrogant, and aggressive man who always seems to enjoy stepping on those beneath him. When you joined a much smaller woman, you quickly found that you weren’t spared from this treatment.
A year into being a part of KorTac and things with König have only escalated. No one is brave enough to stand up to him, so you’re left to fend for yourself. He uses his height to his advantage as well as setting you off by being incredibly sexist. In his eyes, you’re the easiest target on base.
Underneath your calm exterior, a rage was forming. Yes, you’re small, but you know your own strength. Respect is the only reason you haven’t gone completely crazy on your colonel. Everyone knows he deserves it.
It’s been raining hard these last few weeks, leaving the outdoors training field to turn into a muddy mess. That doesn’t stop the military, though. König has his men, and you, outside running drills back and forth through the slick terrain. Everyone is slipping, unable to gain proper footing; yet it’s when you fall that you hear König’s harsh accent boom throughout the open space.
“Pathetic little girl!” König barks. “Get up!”
As you scramble to your feet, you feel his hands violently lift you before setting you on your feet. You can feel your hands trembling, but not with fear; it’s that rage. König looms over you, yelling down at you as everyone around you stops to watch the vicious verbal assault with looks of sympathy on their faces.
Time seems to slow as you lift your dominant hand into a fist, pulling back and punching König with everything you’d got. His head actually snaps back, causing a loud gasp to echo out amongst the team. Your eyes widen once you realize what you’ve done, you just assaulted your colonel.
König feels a sharp pain, followed by the taste of blood beginning to fill his mouth. This little bitch. His eyes snap down to yours with a look of shock.
First, it was one laugh, followed by a roaring laughter that spread between everyone. The smallest tear slips from König’s eye as they widen, glaring down at you. He looks around quickly, trying to fight back the waterfall of tears threatening to be released. It’s as if he’s eleven again and his entire class is mocking him. For a moment, he isn’t the 6’10 280lb colonel; he’s that chubby 5’9 child that didn’t fit in.
Slowly, his look of shock turns into a wild look of horror. Without another word to you, König leaves. He hurries to his barracks, leaving you alone with an odd feeling forming in the pit of your stomach. A few people come up to you simply to thank you for doing what they’ve been too scared to do. Others make sure that you’re okay.
The events of the day came and went. It was talked about for a while, but you were never reprimanded so no one ever reported you. König has backed off of you, leaving you to believe he simply realizes that you’re not the one to mess with. If only you knew how wrong you were.
Then you begin to notice König almost everywhere you are. He’s never obvious, hiding within the cover or crowds and dark corners of the halls. Almost as if he has become your own personal boogeyman. At the same time, it’s base and your schedules line up, so maybe you’re just being paranoid. Simply noticing him where you never did before because of the deep-rooted fear that he might retaliate one day.
Your first thought is the correct one though. König is everywhere you are, watching every move you make, attempting to familiarize himself with every little aspect of your day to day. Ever since you humiliated him, he’s grown obsessed with you. Not even a fully grown man has ever had the balls to do what you did to him. That day he cried like he hadn’t in a very long time, not since his mother passed.
The desire to own you, forever, consumes his every waking thought. His mind continues to replay the look in your eyes when you hit him, the sounds of laughter, and the taste of blood. He’s obsessed with the idea of getting back at you, making you feel the humiliation and torment he felt in that moment.
König was missing from training today, not that you mind, it was just odd. His job is his life and you’ve never known him to have missed a day. Either way, you felt as if you were finally able to relax and focus on excelling at the tasks at hand.
That very night as you walk back to your room, a recruit you don’t recognize walks up to you with a note in their hand. He holds it out to you, looking into your eyes with a blank expression. You reach out and open it to read that you’re wanting to finish signing paperwork. Confused, you look up, ready to ask a question; but the recruit has left in a hurry.
You look down at your watch to see how late it is, wondering if the people in the offices are even still there at this hour. With a deep sigh you turn and head across base. The sun is setting, the sky a beautiful pale blue color setting a calm tone over the moment.
Upon entering the building, you notice that the halls are empty. Some lights are still on, so you just continue on to the room that was scribbled down. You knock. No answer. You know again and wait before trying the handle. You walk in to see a blinking red light in the darkness. Confused, you linger for a second; long enough for König to reach out, grabbing your neck, and pulling you inside.
You get slammed on to the wall as the door closes leaving you in complete darkness. Short shaky breaths flee your lips as you try to not scream; you know it’s König. A million things are running through your mind as you gaze up in his direction.
“What do you want?” You ask, trying to be bold, but your voice cracks.
“You.” König whispers, dragging your body forward and slamming you down on a desk.
Your head hits the cold wood hard enough to cause a ringing in your ears. In a panic you begin to push up against the desk, but it’s no use since König is nearly twice your size. Finally, you realize the blinking light to a camera recording; what is he about to do?
König lets go of your neck and moves his hands all over your body, tracing every curve and contour of your much smaller frame. He completely towers over you, consuming you. Having you underneath his fingers, completely defenseless and vulnerable.
“I’m sorry! Please don’t do this!” You cry out as he begins to strip you of your clothing. His sharp canines dig into your back as he slides your shirt up, pulling a loud scream from you. No one heard you, you're completely alone with this monster.
“You’ve been an arrogant, disrespectful, little slut!” König shouts as he spanks your ass harshly.
He undresses behind you, pulling his pants down to be around his knees. His eyes flick over to the camera to make sure it’s still recording before looking back down at you. Your outline is visible to him as his eyes have adjusted to the dark. He laces his fingers through your hair and pulls your head back to bite your neck. Again, you let out a loud cry making König feel a rush of excitement. The more pain you feel, the more pleasure he feels. He lets go and you fall back on the desk.
“Keep screaming for us, Hase.” He mocks.
Us?
Your thoughts are redirected as you feel his cock slip along your dry folds. You beg him to not do this as your hips squirm back and forth to attempt to get him away. The searing pain of his cock pushing into you causes your body to tense up.
As you lift your abdomen from the desk König slams you back down. His hand remains on your back to hold you there as his hips pull back and slam into you. A soft moan leaves his lips as a pained whimper leaves your own.
“This…” König speaks with a voice laced with lust. “…is what women are made for. To be whores. To be fucked.” He growls as his hips begin to buck forward into you faster.
In infrared, the camera records König’s thick veiny cock slamming in and out of your tight little cunt. The pained look on your face and sad little whimpers coming through perfectly. On the other side of the camera men sit with their cocks in their hands, masturbating to your torment.
“Say you’re a worthless whore.” König demands as he closes his eyes and leans his head back to immerse himself into the pleasure of you.
You say nothing, only angering König more. He pulls out of you, spitting on to his hand to rub on the head of his cock before moving back to you. The tip pushes against your asshole.
“Say it.” He growls once more.
“I- I’m a worthless whore.” You say with a weak voice.
“Ah, good girl.” König whispers as he presses his cock painfully into your ass.
Your humiliation pleases König. Now you feel how he felt when you hit him. How he felt when the squad laughed at him. Now you have thousands of people getting pleasure from watching you getting violated; your small body destroyed in König’s hands.
Part Two of this :] finally CEO price and boss Simon :] not proofread we die like men. Aarrrrmmm 18+ minors blocked on sight Nd there is filthy smut in here so if dat makes u uncomfy stay out!!
Your first instinct is to immediately go seek out your best friend, Soap — with whom you'd worked a good amount of years until you were transfered to the technical unit, and then to the role of assistant.
He lets you ramble as he works (Johny has a bad habit of always working on his lunch hour. You've tried to take it outta him, but he just won't budge, the stubborn bastard) and eventually pipes up when you mention the reason of your ire.
Simon. Mister Riley, as you call him.
"Simon's got you all work'd up? Really? The big ole brute?"
"You try working under him! He- he's like a giant six foot four body of grumpiness and inability to show a grain of appreciation!"
He looks at you, staring for what feels like forever until you let out a whole, long sigh.
"And unfortunately for me, he's also got.."
"That mug of his?" Soap whistles. "Woulda done it, if he wasn' so painfully straight."
You wrinkle your nose at that, shaking away the thoughts of the two of them being together.
You toss your fork back in your plastic plate, very much understanding that hell awaits you when you go back. Which, as you glance at the clock, realize that the time is ever approaching.
"Well. It will have been nice meeting you, Johny-boy."
He pats your head as he gets up, finally taking his eyes off of his screen and going to the nearby trash to dump all of your and his leftovers.
"It'll be fine. Just bat those pretty lashes at him and he'll let you off."
You kiss your teeth, cocking your head as you think maybe. Maybe, it could work for once. Though you're not sure there's anything soft of mellow underneath the constant armor he wears, your sure that... Well.. there is something.
You have to try. For the sake of your job and your livelihood.
.
When you step out of the elevator into the last level of the building — the technical unit's office space, as well as mister Price's office and now Simon's, you notice one thing. It's awfully quiet.
Usually, the technical team is quite chatty. Being made up of mostly young adults fresh out of high school, they always seemed to have something to laugh and giggle about. Which is why the silence now unsettles you.
You also notice, side-stepping the rows of empty desks, that the door to yours and Simon's office is closed, and the glass fogged up — thanks to the technology that allowed him by the click of a remote to make it so.
Usually, his office only goes on full lockdown when he's in serious board meetings, or when he's in a foul mood, and you're ready to bet it's the latter this time.
You chew on your lower lip anxiously as you knock on the glass pane. A voice tells you to come in, and you freeze a little when you recognize mister Price's voice.
You slip in, either way, forcing your frozen limbs to move and take you inside.
The door closes loudly behind you, glass panel knocking agaisnt each other. You clutch the papers you carried all the way up from the reception against your chest, wide eyes going itchy when you don't blink for too long.
"Here she is," Price smiles wide at you. He's sitting on the couch opposite of Simon's desk, a leg propped against the coffee table, and a cigar dangling from his lips.
Your former boss had always been fond of you — had always been so kind to you.— which is why you seek his eyes out first.
"Hi, mister Price." You manage through a right throat. You turn to Simon, who's already staring holes into you, examining you from head to toe, but taking special interest to your face for a moment too long. "I wasn't aware you had a meeting today."
"It was impromptu," John says for Simon, standing from his position. He walks to you, and lays his hands on your shoulders. Something he seems to do a lot — youve noticed when he's around other employees also.
He squeezes yours, maybe a bit too roughly, but nothing that shakes you to the core. If anything, it's a comforting touch.
"How many times have I told you to call me John, kid?"
"As many times as I've asked you to call me by my name, mister Price."
He laughs, loud and boisterous. He turns to Simon, who's still just... Staring. Price points a thumb at me, smiling with fully a fully reconstructed set of teeth, white and gleaming. Though they aren't uncanny like most sets of fake teeth, you can tell when he smiles like this that his canines are too unnatural to be his.
"Always liked her, this one."
"As you've mentioned." Simon practically grumbles.
Price tsks at him, shaking him off with a wave of his hand.
"Come sit with me." He tells you. And because you don't know what to do right now, you listen.
Once youre settled, and Price has taken another puff of his cigar, he clears his throat and gives you a more serious look.
"So. Simon here is telling me you're having... Problems."
"I—"
Did he have to bring the CEO into this? Really? You crumble a little, shoulders caving into yourself.
"I apologize for my words, mister Riley, I was.." you drift off, staring at your hands on your lap. It doesn't feel real at all, that you're here getting reprimanded by the CEO himself.
"This is not about you," the older man says after another puff, and it jostles you a little that mister Price pats you on the knee, keeping his touch respectful. You look at Simon to see if he notices, and his eyes don't let anything betray him. The only thing that gives you pause is the way his hands tighten around the edges of his chair.
"Pardon?"
"It's Simon here, who's been overworking my best girl."
"I—"
You don't know what to say. You stare at the both of them.
Price's left side of his lips tilt upwards at what he finds in your face.
"I told him, when I handed you over, to be good to you."
"Sir, Its really fine —" you say, if only because you don't want to lose your job.
Smoke from his cigar blows towards you, and you cough a little behind your hand, face flaring with heat.
"Quiet, dollie."
You frown a little at that, though an unsettling feeling does grow within you, lower in your stomach.
"Come here, Boy."
Simon moves from his chair, and it's sheer surprise that makes your spine straighten. You'd never heard anyone dare speak to him that way — like a.. dog.
Ghost stands before you, and it's really ridiculous how while you sit, you come face to face with his crotch, and how much you want to lick the buldge.
That thought alone makes you shiver, and you wriggle in your seat.
"Kneel for her, Simon."
A noise rumbles in your boss' chest, but he does, and when he looks up at you, you're starstrucked. He's so handsome, old and rugged, yes, but he is so beautiful. With bright eyes, sharp features and a long face, yet fitting face for all of his features.
And when he looks into your eyes, with those thin fluttery blond lashes, you find yourself not being able to deny whatever he is he's about to do.
A hand snatches your attention from Simon, calloused fingers softly putting strands of your hair behind your ear.
"Simon's gonna show you how sorry he is about being such a pain in that perfect fucking arse of yours, okay, dollie?"
"N-no, I- I don't think that's appropriate, it's really—" a squeak cuts you off as Simon wraps his big, beefy hands around the back of your thighs and pulls you into your back.
You settle heavily, hair like a hallo around you. You can only stare up at Price as he smokes, watching Simon hungrily watching what lays between your pretty legs.
"Such a pretty little thing," Price coos, still a hand on your head.
You don't know why, but tears prickle at your eyes, and your heart is beating out of your chest. You want this — and yet, somehow, youre afraid.
"Go on, Simon." Price orders, and as he does so, he manspreads on the couch further, making it so your head is basically laying against his thigh. Strong and thick, though a bit softer now that he's retired.
Simon grunts a little. "M'sorry, little dove.."
His fingers splays themselves open on top of your mount, a sort of reverant touch you're not all that used to. He toys with your underwear.
"Couldn't let y'go home. Couln't have y'going on dates with tha' manchild..."
"Mister riley—"
"Simon," he growls. "When m'head is between your thighs, it's Simon to ya', pretty."
"It's fine, you don't have to.." your voice is thin, and you don't mean it.
Price ticks his tongue as though he can hear the lies on your tongue. He rubs his hand through your scalp, soothing you. "Show the pretty doll just how much she deserves."
Simon lowers himself, and his lips trail up your underwear, where a wet patch is steadily growing.
"M'sorry, dovie." He says again, sounding everything but sorry. His fingers gently slide your briefs off, and his face flushes at the sight of you, his eyes going a bit more shiny.
You've never seen him that way — always the severe faced boss everyone wants to avoid. But like this.. it looks like he's infatuated and has nothing else on his mind but eating you alive.
His teeth surprisingly sink into your thigh, and you jerk, a noise like a mewl making it out of your mouth. Price shushes you gently.
When Simon pulls back, there's a mark, but you're not bleeding. It somehow makes your heart sore a little to see his mark.
"Don't tease th'poor thing," Price scolds, and you're watering eyes can barely see as he shakes his head at the younger man.
Simon growls, and shrugs. He digs in right away, lapping at you, holding your thighs so tightly you know it'll bruise.
His teeth rake only slightly against your bundle of nerves, and it has you jerking and crying out. Price quickly soothes you though, his now free hand that previously held a cigar rubbing your tummy, but also pressing it down so you stay still for mister Riley.
Simon is good, though. He eats you out like a man starved, and fucks your little hole with his tongue until you're gushing and crying and writhing against his mouth.
Even then he doesn't relent, and Price holds you, keeping you in place.
"C-cant—" you cry out, but Simon growls, and he, somehow, just goes harder, adding his fingers to the mix.
And then he's stroking that spot deep in you, his fingers unrelenting and rough in you, coaxing more orgasms from you.
At some point, you realize that you're seeing stars — literal stars. You can't feel your toes, and your legs on Simon's shoulders.
Simon only lets go because Price feels as you bite his thigh through his pants and pries him off.
Simon's face is slick all over the lower part of it, and he still looks hungry, fingers scissoring you open to look inside you. "Can't wait to fuck you open.." he sighs darkly, and you have to keen impression that he's not talking to you directly.
"Do you know how Sorry Simon is now, dollie? He'll be nice, won't he?"
Simon's eyes darken, and his lips curl. "Sure. G'nna be real nice to ha'."
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