Ghost

"god, i hate you," sneers simon against the shell of your ear.

but the position that you two are in doesn't seem like he hates you. he's got you in front of him on his bed, one hand wrapped around the back of your neck to keep your face planted into the blankets. the other hand is on your hip, holding your ass up as he fucks you from behind, his cock disappearing inside of your wet cunt over and over again as he fucks into you. and fuck, he's big.

you two have been enemies for a long time, hell, even before you had to work together. he just.. hated your guts. hated your stupidly soft hair, your frustratingly perfect skin, and oh, god he hated your stupid eyes. eyes that could get him to do anything you asked of him, albeit begrudgingly.

a low growl escapes him as he continues to pound into you, his hand tightening around your throat. he switches positions after a second, using one hand to pull your head back, his other arm wrapping around your neck as he puts you in what essentially is a chokehold, one that makes it harder to resist the forceful thrusts into you. he shifts so that he's essentially laying on top of you, supported by only the same arm that he's using to keep you in a headlock, and his palm against the bed.

his thrusts become more rough once he's in a better position, the majority of his bodyweight crashing against yours each time he thrusts in.

he doesn't care if you resist. he doesn't care if you struggle, he's got you where he wants you.

honestly, ghost fucks you often. he needs to get his sexual frustration out somehow, and bloody hell, if you don't already frustrate him.

"yeah, take it," he grunts after one particularly hard thrust, narrowing his eyes when a whimper escapes you and moving his free hand up to roughly cover your mouth, shutting you up. "quietly, like a good fucking slut.." he murmurs.