captain john price who thinks you’re cheating on his with his lieutenant, simon riley, so he thoroughly bangs you in his office, making sure to leave visible marks along your jawline and neck which he’s usually so careful about.
he shoves your panties in your mouth, placing his firm hand on top to seal the sticky fabric against your tongue.
and when simon comes in for their pre-planned meeting, he’s greeted with the sight of your head hanging off of the desk and knees draped over his captain’s shoulders.
price commands him to stay, talking through infiltration strategies, potential threats, new shipment of weapons and new personnel changes as all planned. would have been a perfectly normal meeting had price not been rutting up into your soaked cunt the whole time.
and simon is blissfully unaware of price’s accusation, but more preoccupied with making sure his eyes don’t drift any lower than the captain’s stare.
so he sits stiffly, eyes shutting briefly as he hears you mewl when a sharp crack comes down against your clit.
and when price’s soften dick slips out of your abused and dripping puss, he finally peels the panties that are equally as wet with your saliva from your mouth.
that’s when you and simon finally get to explain that all the secret communication between you and his best man was to only plan him a surprise party for his birthday next week.
I’m still thinking about Trucker!Simon. Days crammed in that reeking rig making your skin and little sundress soaked and stiff with the sour, heavy musk of him.
Tosses you a few crumpled bills at a truck stop like you’re a stray dog and you buy the cheapest makeup off the spinning rack, and try putting some onto your face in the piss stinking bathroom.
The second you’re back in the cab he grabs your face with those nicotine yellow fingers, squishing your cheeks hard until your lips pout open like a blow up doll.
Leans in and spits a thick, ropey glob right onto your tongue. Then those filthy digits follow, shoving past your teeth, scraping over your tongue and ramming deep into your throat until your eyes water, cheap mascara running in black, tarry streaks down your cheeks while you gag, throat convulsing, coating his fingers in thick, slimy spit.
When he finally yanks them out, long, viscous strands of your spit stretch obscenely between his dirty fingers and your gasping, drooling mouth.
Smears the whole mess across your face, dragging it through your ruined lipgloss, over your flushed cheek, turning your sad little attempt at looking pretty into a shiny, filthy ruin of spit, snot, and cheap drugstore makeup.
A proper lot lizard now. Messy. Just how he likes his girls.
thinking about roommate!ghost who's a total freak and creep...
18+ mdni !!! (smut, darkfic)
alt link; ao3
cw: fem!reader, icky!ghost, heavy dubcon (reader says stop and is very hesitant/conflicted but does want him & enjoys it), stalking, dacryphilia, forced breeding, ment. of pregnancy, cum eating / cum play, fear play, (probably) a DDNE tbh, i think that's it ?, word count: 2.4k
When you’d first saw the advertisement he posted, you half-expected it to be bait. That you’d show up, he’d answer the door, and you’d end up being just another dead girl mentioned in a distasteful true crime podcast.
Your mother always said: If it seems too good to be true, then it usually is. You should have listened to her.
On paper, the arrangement is perfect; your rent is half the price of a one-bedroom, the apartment is in an amazing neighborhood, and your roommate is gone the majority of the time.
The reality is that living with Simon Riley is complicated– nothing like what you signed up for. To put it plainly, your roommate is a complete and utter creep.
Looking back, it’s almost impressive how subtle he was at the start– at least compared to the things he does now. It made it that much easier for you to brush it off as a trauma response or bad habits from years in the military.
A week into living together, you realize that he has a horrible habit of hovering. Waiting until you’re busy with something, coming up behind you and standing just close enough that you can feel his breath on the back of your neck.
“Think you should buy it in black,” he mumbles into your ear, staring down at your phone as you browse online for a new dress.
You shriek, hands instinctively dropping your device. The loud thud it makes hitting the floor echoes in your ears. You turn around, hands instinctively pressing against his chest in a feeble attempt to push him away– it doesn’t work.
You swallow, hoping he doesn’t notice the way your thighs twitch at the feeling of his hands gripping your wrists tightly. He does– he notices everything about you. “Uh, thanks, I’ll… do that.”
You expect him to let go. Instead, he pulls you into him, wrapping his arms tight around you. You can pretend you can’t feel him pressing his nose into your hair– breathing in deeply– it’s harder to ignore the feeling of his hard cock pressed against you.
“Welcome to the apartment, dove.”
Then came the staring, heavy gaze always roaming your body, staring at you for hours at a time. It's unnerving.
You don’t have to turn around to know he’s watching you– he always is nowadays. “Hi, Simon,” you mumble, hands shaking as you continue to load the washing machine.
He doesn’t reply– he never does– his eyes just continue to trail further down, soaking up every inch of bare skin your tiny pajama shorts show off.
You make it a point to wear loose pants and oversized sweatshirts after that– cover as much skin as possible– somehow that only makes it worse.
You stumble into the kitchen, oversized hoodie rifling through the cabinets to find a mug for your morning coffee.
It’s not long before you feel it again, his stare. You close your eyes, body freezing up at the unfortunately familiar feeling. “Good morning, Simon.” You’re not sure what’s worse, the words he said or the fact that he replied at all.
“Y’ like baggy clothes tha’ much, you could jus’ wear mine, dove.”
You suck in a breath, heart beating so loud you know he has to be able to hear it somehow. “I, I don’t–”
He cuts you off, eyes staring at you so hard you swear you can feel your skin burning under his gaze. “Fuckin’ adorable, thinkin’ those layers are gonna stop me from watchin’ you– droolin’ over you.”
You repeatedly tell yourself that the sinking feeling in your stomach is nausea– disgust–, but you can’t deny the sticky feeling between your thighs.
You don’t get to go anywhere by yourself anymore; he just invites himself to tag along. You once tried to sneak out– a ridiculous notion, you’re a grown woman for fucks sake– but he just somehow ended up there anyway.
There, sitting in a dark booth staring straight at you, is your roommate. Simon hates clubs, so why is he here? Better yet, how is he here?
It doesn’t take long before he’s walking up to you, grabbing you with his tattoo-covered arm, mumbling something about it being time to go home. Your friend grabs your other arm, and you can tell she’s ready to call over security. You quickly wave her concerns off, feeling his grip grow tighter each second she touches you.
“It's fine, he's my roommate– look, I’m just gonna call it a night, okay?”
The two of you lean against the building outside while you wait for the cab to arrive. A lit cigarette hangs from his lips, and the feeling of his arm around your shoulder makes you shiver despite the body heat radiating off of him.
“Simon?” you whisper, staring straight down at the sidewalk. You wait until he gives you a half-hearted hum of acknowledgement before continuing. “How did you know which club I was at?”
The silence he gives you is worse than any answer he possibly could have provided. He pulls you in closer to him, the smell of tobacco smoke is so strong you swear you can taste it on your tongue.
You hate the way your body no longer tenses at his touch– you wonder if it ever really did.
Most nights he’s home, you shoot awake, breathing heavily from the confusing dreams you have about him– not quite a nightmare, but not solely pleasant.
“Simon?” you mumble, eyes slowly blinking as you glance around your dark room before settling into a dark corner.
You scream, your hands reaching to pull your covers off. Legs wobbly as you scurry to reach the lights. “What–”
The second the masked man chuckles– low and mocking– you know it’s Simon. You avoid looking straight at him, never wanting to see that horrid skull mask again.
You don’t realize you're crying until you feel wet tears rolling down your face.
“C’mon, lovie, though’ you liked this? Seen all those blokes you watch on your phone when y’ think ‘m not lookin’.”
You’ve learned now to just close your eyes and go back to sleep, avoiding his heavy gaze from the corner of your room.
Simon’s unashamed in the way he steals from you. It’s not something uncommon to deal with when sharing a living space, but there’s nothing normal about the things he ‘borrows’ from you.
Your dresser drawers are on the floor, and random knick-knacks and papers are scattered across your room. The mood has long been ruined, but you’re now determined to find your misplaced vibrator anyway.
He doesn’t knock when he enters your room– why would he? You don’t turn around or even acknowledge him, continuing to haphazardly rifle through your things.
It isn’t until you hear a faint buzzing sound coming from his hand that he finally feels his eyes on yours. “What the fuck, Simon?” you screech, scrambling to snatch the clearly used toy out of his hands.
He tilts his head, staring at you dead-eyed. “Didn’ think you’d mind. Never say anythin’ when I use your washin’ powder or borrow those lace panties y’ like so much.” The casual confession should make you sick to your stomach– you want it to make you sick to your stomach.
You can’t help but flinch when the door gently shuts behind him, looking around at the mess you’ve made. You glance down at the silicone bullet, fingers gathering up the white, sticky liquid dripping down it.
You spread your fingers, your mouth going dry at the string of cum between them. You’re tasting him before you even realize that your hand has moved towards your mouth. It’s bitter and musky, but that doesn’t stop you from moaning around your digits.
A thought crosses your mind. It’s gross, and wrong, and it makes you no better than him– but he started this.
You close your eyes as you fall onto the bed, quickly kicking your shorts off and to the side. A soft buzzing noise fills the air as you press the already slick toy down harder on your clit.
You act like you can’t hear him breathing heavy on the other side of your door– but it’s obvious in the way your normally quiet whimpers are full-blown moans.
It doesn’t take much– you were already worked up long before he’d stepped into your room. You cum hard, too focused on the low groaning coming from outside your room to fully savor the feeling.
As you clean up your mess, you wonder if you can still claim the cheap rent is why you’ve stayed so long.
You should have known better, but your friends convinced you it’d be a good idea. After complaining to them with half-truths about how horrible and invasive your roommate is, they’d planted the silly thought of getting even in your head.
You shuffle outside his door, hesitantly reaching for the doorknob. You’re not sure what you expected when you decided to barge into his room unannounced– you try not to think too hard about what he does when you’re not there.
He’s sitting along the side of his bed, thick thighs spread wide, as his hand fists his leaking cock. You stumble, your back unintentionally shutting the door, causing him to glance at you.
“Did y’need somethin’ dove?” He doesn’t stop– doesn’t even falter– just licks his lips as he stares straight at you.
Your skin feels like it’s on fire, unable to look away from the obscene sight.
“Wha’, don’ tell me you’re embarrassed? ‘M jus’ havin’ a quick wank– hear you do it all the time.” The admission makes you choke on nothing, his cock twitching at the sound. “It’s jus’ a cock, lovie, ‘m sure you’ve seen plenty.”
You don’t mean to say it out loud, but your mouth moves against your will. “Never any that big,” you whisper, barely audible, but you know he heard it.
“Come touch it.” He doesn’t ask, just commands you to– for the first time since meeting him, you understand why he’s a lieutenant.
You hesitantly move towards him, shrieking when his hand grabs your shoulder and shoves you onto the carpet. He forces you to kneel between his legs, your pussy aching as he wraps his hand around your hand in his, forcing you to grab his hard cock.
You can only stare wide-eyed, lips parted as he moves your hand up and down, your palm growing sticky as his pre-cum gathers on your skin.
“Fuck, tha’s it, dove,” he groans, head thrown back as he uses you to jerk himself off. Your legs snap shut at the wet noises filling up the room.
You feel your stomach twist with disgust at yourself for just letting him use you– the feeling of want dripping down your thighs only makes it worse.
You swallow, arm limp as you stare at the head of his twitching cock. “Simon, stop,” you whisper, making no move to pull away from him.
You flinch, squeezing your eyes shut tight as he shoots ropes of hot cum all over your face. You sniffle, tears falling down your face, when he suddenly leans down, gripping your jaw as he forces you to look at him.
His tongue brushes against your cheek, slowly licking off the mess he spilt on your skin. “Si,” you whine, your nails digging into his arms– he moans against your face when he feels them break the skin.
“I know, I know, lovie, ‘s not fair, is it?” he coos, pulling away now that your face is mostly clean– save for his spit. “Let me make it up to you.”
In one swift motion, he sits you at the foot of the bed, leaning back against the headboard as he pats his bare thigh– cock still hard despite the fact he just came.
It’s embarrassing how fast you discard your clothes before crawling into his lap. His thumb brushes against your cheek before pushing past your lips– looking pleased when you instantly suck the digit.
His fingers on your hip grip you tight, picking you up single-handedly before lowering you onto his length. The stretch burns, sweat coating your body as pain flashes across your face. He twitches inside you, and you know then the lack of prep was purposeful.
Your hands grip his shoulders so tight you can feel his blood pooling underneath your fingernails– his hips thrusting up into you only makes you dig into the skin harder.
He removes his hand from your mouth, reaching down to let his spit-soaked thumb hover over your swollen clit. “Simon, please, jus’ make it feel good,” you beg, grinding your hips against his as you desperately try to meet his pace.
His lips make their way to your neck, harshly sucking before sinking his teeth into your skin. You cry out, cunt clenching down on his cock as the mixture of pain and pleasure.
His lips are smeared with red when he finally stops licking at your wound– all you can taste is copper as he kisses you.
Your orgasm builds pathetically fast, you pant against his mouth as you cum around his length. He pulls away from your mouth, continuing to fuck you through your orgasm.
“You’re mine, my roommate, my dove. Even if y’ don’ say it she knows it– ‘s why she creamed all over me so quickly, yeah?”
Your body aches as you lie limply against him like a rag doll. Your mind’s hazy, unable to focus on anything other than his thick cock still dragging in and out of you.
His thrusts get sporadic, cock twitching deep inside you, and you can tell he’s close. “Si, not, hng, not inside, ‘m not, don’ take the pill–”
He snorts, hands digging into your hips so hard you know you’ll still feel them tomorrow– maybe forever. His hips snap up into you, and you can feel the tip of his cock brush against your cervix.
“Don’ worry, lovie, I won’ go runnin' away when you’re swollen w’ my kid,” he coos. As he spills hot cum in the deepest part of your cunt the promise feels more like a threat.
The thought of it– your stomach round, carrying his baby– is all it takes for you to wail into his chest, body shivering as you reach another orgasm.
The room reeks of sex and sweat, the air thick with the weight of something heavy– something akin to permanence, ownership.
His arms wrap around you, pulling you down onto your side as he buries his nose against the back of your head.
tags: 18+ explicit smut + you're married to John + use of good girl, she, her + blowjob + cum swallowing + praising.
“Look at her, you’ve trained her well, Cap’n.” Kyle’s voice rasped as he sat with spread legs on the couch, his dark coffee eyes trained on you kneeling in front of him and John Price, your husband, who caressed your chin gently as he sat next to his friend and sergeant.
He smiled at you with so much pride and affection that it made you squirm and feel so flustered it felt like a heat wave was pressed down on you, seeping into your skin until sweat misted your naked body.
“She’s so good for me.”
It was hot the way they talked about you like you weren’t there in the room.
With a subtle nod towards Kyle, he leaned in and ran the tips of his fingers along your jawline, forcing you to look at him instead.
The air took on a charged tension; the edges curled in from the way both men looked at you like their next meal. Another stroke would snap it completely like broken glass.
It was dim in the living room, giving it more of a sensual feel, which didn’t help the slick that made the fabric of your panties stick to your leaking cunt. “Look at her, flustered as hell.” Kyle grinned and slid his hand to the back of your neck, where he gripped it softly.
“Come here, pretty girl. Look at you, so soft and such a good listener.” He cooed as you crawled closer to him, glancing over at John, who watched you intently, the cigar tucked between his lips curled with smoke that hung around him in a white haze; the tendrils caressed his face as he grinned.
John could tell Kyle’s praise was further turning you into a puddle; a soft whine spilled from your lips that the younger man traced with his thumb, which you took in your mouth and sucked on.
You met his gaze and smiled, then took the whole digit in, letting Kyle depress your tongue with the pad.
It was erotic to watch you from a different point of view; it was John who got the pleasure of seeing you fall apart under him, but seeing you with someone else put him in a different seat, giving him the chance to see you through a new lens, like the way your eyes fluttered shut as you sucked Kyle’s thumb harder.
The whiny gasp when Kyle pulled away to smear his spit over your lips.
How you reached for him with a glazed look in your eyes, batting your lashes like that would give you whatever you wanted.
“Daddy.” It was directed at John, a soft whisper of encouragement and approval.
Kyle wasn't surprised in the slightest; a chuckle rumbled in his chest when you turned to John. “Yes, princess?”
“Can I?”
It was a conversation that Kyle wasn't privy to, not that he really needed to be because he knew the consequences of stepping out of the drawn boundary lines.
With a click of John's tongue, you dove straight between Kyle’s thighs and nuzzled your face between them. He smelled so good, like clean laundry with the undertones of him.
“Fuckin’ hell.” Kyle moaned; he couldn't help it, not really when you splayed your hand over the bulge in his jeans with a grin.
You leaned closer and grabbed his zipper with your teeth like a little minx and tugged on it as you popped the button. “She loves to give a good blowjob.”
John murmured as he shifted slightly, not touching you or himself, just watching intensely.
It felt like a flame had been lit in your belly that licked up your spine and pooled in your limbs, feeling both of them stare.
Kyle placed his large palm on the top of your head while you worked to free his cock; his musk wafted up to your nose. “I wonder if you taste as good as you smell.” You giggled.
Shifting closer until your tits brushed his legs, you wrapped your fingers gently around the shaft of his pretty cock and kissed the sticky tip smeared with precum. “Mhm, you do.”
A soft thump pulled your attention away to see Kyle’s head thrown back. “All I did was kiss you; I haven’t even sucked your dick yet. Men are easy.”
“You're a little mouthy too, aren't you? It's rude to talk with your mouth so full, love.” Kyle shot back and thrust his hips.
His cock slid past your lips and into your mouth; immediately you sucked him further in and bobbed your head slowly, taking your time to trace the throbbing veins, giggling as Kyle moaned, spreading his legs further apart.
You slurped and sucked, downright drooling all over Kyle’s cock eagerly, which dripped down to the curly coarse hair that padded his pubic bone; it was lewd the way you swirled your tongue over the tip as John watched with a gruff grunt. His hand reached down to pet you.
John’s eyes burned with liquid passion watching as his wife sucked his friend's cock like a melted ice cream cone; your tongue peeked from pillowy lips as you licked up the side of his cock before you sucked on the tip and jerked off the rest of him, moaning softly.
“She looks so pretty like that, doesn’t she?” John asked Kyle, who lost himself in the heat of your mouth; he bucked his hips up, making you gag while he grunted his answer. Nothing more would happen between you and him, so he savored each second of this.
John would never let another man fuck his wife; that’s his job.
But he knew his friend was in need of a woman's touch, and you so eagerly offered the help when John asked a few days ago. “Look at the way he’s melting, Daddy." You giggled, then took him all the way in the back of your throat, relaxing it as you bobbed up and down sloppily.
Sex scented the air in a musky curtain of lust and desire; John’s gaze flickered down to the way Kyle’s fingers gripped the couch as if he would float up from it and disappear into thin air; his moans were soft and heady like smooth chocolate that you wanted to eat up. Each stroke and flick of your tongue undid Kyle, who finally looked down at you, locking gazes as his orgasm broke open, sending him into a frenzy of fucking your mouth and spilling down your throat.
His chest heaved as he came down from his high that you drew out, licking and sucking his cock clean before leaning away to swallow everything. “Let’s see, darlin," John murmured. Immediately you opened your mouth to show him your tongue still glazed with Kyle’s cum.
“Good girl.” John praised and helped you off your knees and onto his lap to give Kyle a different type of show.
Just thinking about: fucked up Price x (cat hybrid) reader
(cw suggestive and violent themes. MDNI)
After Soap’s death, Price went off the rails. He was breaking rules left and right, and spilling blood like water in an effort to find… revenge? Closure? He’d gotten so bad that Ghost, of all people, was sent to take him down.
It seemed everyone had given up on him. Even the worst of the lot said he was too far gone. Now he was a fugitive from his own team. Not that he cared. He had a mission to complete, and it didn’t matter if everyone else abandoned him. The fewer people, whether friendly or hostile, around to slow him down the better.
Price traversed the lonely, dark trail he’d set out on; but it looked like a guardian angel had gone before and cleared it for him. Out of nowhere— a tip here, a lead there. A shot in the dark that saved his head from being blown off. Sometimes, he’d reach his target only to find them dead with a literal bow tied to their body. He’d never been able to trace the messages. Nor had he caught the shadowy figure retreating after saving his life. Not a single trace of evidence got left behind with the corpses.
And corpses there were— tons of them.
She watched him through the cameras she’d bugged the place with before he arrived. She cackled in delight at the stunned look on his face. He almost darted in circles around the scene. She’d sent him an encrypted message telling him the men he sought were at X location. When he arrived, she’d already dealt with them. Death was later on the list; first, she’d interrogated them, milking them of every bit of information they contained, even information Price wasn’t seeking. She had a lot of fun toying with her prey before finally putting them out of her misery.
His jaw tightened at the bloody sight, and she sighed happily. She knew he didn’t give two fucks about her methods: Price was almost as depraved as she was. No. This was about the new glint in his eyes, the fire that started to burn through every atom of his being. His eyes darkened; his hand went to his knife. This was his mission, and someone had dared to play god with it. She could see his resolve to make whoever it was pay hell for that, and it just set her off more.
She’d had her eyes on the older man for a long time. Price had barely ever noticed her. After all, she was a nobody. Just some small cog in the machine of war and world domination. She wasn’t a threat— didn’t look the part either with her big frames, baby face, kitten ears, fluffy tail, and cute clothes she wore to work. Then the fallback happened, Price went to the dark side, and suddenly he was ten times more appealing. She was dripping for his darker, fuller hair, sprinkled with white. He’d aged, but looked more daddy than father now, in a way that had her thighs and cunt squeezing around nothing. She burned for the darkness that had overtaken him. She dreamt about him, violent, filthy dreams. And, like a cat, the best way for her to show her love was by presenting him with corpses.
In the present, she feverishly rubbed herself. Her thighs were slick at the sight of him in all his glory. She froze to gasp as he abruptly looked right at the camera. Then, she leaned back and smirked. Her prey had sniffed her out. And soon, he’d be hunting her back.
I wonder which of them would wake up to find themselves chained in some dark, soundproof basement by the other.
Great news guys!!111!1!!!!! I haven't updated my fics but I wrote nealry 4k words of freaky and diabolical smut for you <3 coming soon <3
Actually, here is a little sneak peak 🤭
"S'still cold, isn't it." He tucks a hand into your blanket cocoon and cups between your legs. "Poor thing." He kneeds, slowly grinding the heel of his palm over your most sensitive place.
"Price..." you moan, clutching at his shirt.
"Who?"
"John." You correct, but he still wasn't satisfied.
"Not what you call me." He tugs you closer. "Go on."
"Daddy." You shiver, and it was close enough. For now.
"Yeah, baby? What is it, hm? What's got you all fussy?" He plays between the heat of your thighs with stiff fingers, the sub-zero temperatures getting to him as well. But he feels you starting to thaw out, starting to relax under his touch just like he preferred you to. He never had to force you for long.
"Can't warm up."
"You can't warm up?" He repeats as if he didn't already know, bouncing you on his knee. "Well, we can't have that now, can we?" He frowns, ducking his chin to meet your eyes. "Don't worry poppet, Daddy will take care f'you. Just let me handle it."
