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See It And Envy It - Omega!Itachi Uchiha

A/N: So many people wanted more Fae!Itachi so here you go you sluts Warnings: mpreg, exhibitionism, mun forgetting how to write porn so its actually terrible Word Count: 1470 Prompts: See Below

It is a beautiful day

Itachi’s face flushes pink but he can’t help but lean heavily into his Alpha’s front, preening at the attention that would normally have him scurrying to hide behind his beloved. He rolls his head back and forth slowly, showcasing the extensive marks littering his neck. The light chiffon shirt does little to hide the ones that trail lower. 

He purrs, closing his eyes as you slip your free hand in his pants - the same sheer chiffon as his shirt but layered to conceal his more intimate areas. He can feel the eyes of his friends on him, watching him intently, but there is no anxiety. He has witnessed too many of their public sexcapades for them to judge his own indulgence now that he’s mated. 

But there is no judgment. If anything, Itachi can see their excitement at this new development in his personality, the joy in his newly found confidence. Their scents sparked around him, easing him away from the tentative grip he has on his prudish tendencies. This was okay. This was fine. 

“Pretty,” you grin, pressing your fingers into the wetness forming between his legs, dampening his panties. His eyes flutter as he turns his head to look at you, dark eyes heavy with desire and affection. He loves gazing at you. 

You toy with his clothed pussy, making your movements obvious to your audience. Your scent overpowers everything else in his senses then, pulling him deeper in the safe Omega-space you create just for him. Gently, your free hand strokes over his throat and glides down his front. His back arches as you trail lower, his nipples pebbling against the shirt. 

“Alpha,” Itachi purrs gently, a sigh of contentment as you gently pull up the end of his shirt, revealing your mate’s bump to the onlookers. It had ‘popped’ only that morning, a noticeable indent on his otherwise flat abdomen. Itachi cried upon its discovery, the bump proof that the doctors had not been lying when they said he was expecting.

It was no fluke or illusion. No trickery of his own mind. No dream of his desires.

Shisui releases a happy cooing noise at the sight, eyes glittering red. The others follow suit, the overwhelming scent of happy Omega filling the sunroom as they offer congratulations without saying anything. You stroke the skin before splaying your hand protectively against the entirety of it.  

That was your baby in there. 

Itachi spreads his legs farther. His scent turns cloyingly sweet, enticing you to touch him further. It makes saliva pool in your mouth. You adjust, slipping a digit inside of him and he gasps breathlessly as you stroke the inside of his cunt. 

“Hmmmm,” he smiles, humming between little gasping breaths as you play with him, “Feels good.”

“Yeah?” 

“Uh huh,” he mewls, “More.”

You slip another finger inside of him, his slick easing the way as you stretch him. He’s still loose from the previous evening but a little extra precaution never hurt. Your job was to make sure he was alright. In every way. 

“May I?” Itachi asks against your mouth, hand disappearing behind him to rub against the swollen flesh trapped in your pants. “Can we?”

“Of course baby.”

His friends rumble amongst themselves, excited. Since he brought you through the circle, Itachi kept you sequestered away in your rooms for intimacy and the rumor mill all but exploded with theories about you, fueled by the countless times you both stumbled from your rooms less than adequately presentable. Several more forward Fae failed in catching you in anything less than robe and slippers. 

The theories of what you have between your legs multiplied and took several….odd…directions. 

Itachi slowly guides himself to the floor between your legs, fingers making quick work of the laces on your pants. Synchronized, you and several of his friends reach for pillows so Itachi didn’t have to kneel on the hard flooring. Itachi bats his eyes demurely as he takes the pillow from you and places it under him, a sweet purr rumbling from his throat. His fingers are well-practiced so it takes less than a moment before he has your cock out.

Shisui smirks approvingly, shoving the pillow he grabbed back behind himself. 

There is an awkwardness in having your dick out in front of a bunch of your mate’s friends, only made worse when they vocally acknowledge it. 

“I can see why you keep them to yourself,” Shishui laughs, reclining back against one of their friends that you can never remember the name of, “With a cock like that…”

“Pardon me,” one of the other Omegas pants before standing up and disappearing from the room quickly, the scent of their slick trailing behind them. 

The pink darkens on Itachi’s cheeks, his eyes reflecting his smug pride despite his smile remaining demure, “My Alpha is quite gifted.” You can’t stop the growl from escaping the back of your throat as he licks along the drips of pre-cum leaking down the side of your shaft. Plush lips suck the head inside his mouth, tongue twirling around the slit to gather more from the source, but you can tell he isn’t in the mood to suck your cock. 

No. He wants more. The gleam in his eyes as he pops off is one you are all too familiar with. 

“You don’t have to…” 

Itachi ignores you and rises from the pillow, dropping his pants and revealing his lack of undergarments as he does, before sitting astride your lap. He leans over to kiss your mouth, arms wrapping around your neck. When he pulls away, he licks at your bottom lip and murmurs, “I want them to envy what they will never have. Give it to me.” 

With that, he reaches back to line you up and sinks down. You can hear a cacophony of horny Omegas from the other seats, mewling and moaning as they watch your throbbing cock disappear into Itachi’s dripping cunt but you pay no attention to them. 

Only Itachi, who moans the loudest as he’s filled. When he bottoms out, you grab handfuls of ass in each palm, spreading the flesh apart so everyone can see how deep you are. 

Look, you want to say. Look at how well Itachi takes me. How easy the glide was. How wet he is for me. How fat the cock inside of him is. How they fit together seamlessly.

You want them all to see it. See it and envy it.

The other Omegas stare enraptured as Itachi lifts up and sinks back down with well-practiced movements. His mouth drops open, eyes fluttering closed as he repeats the action several more times. His eyes never leave yours, even as presses sipping kisses to your hungry mouth. 

“That's it,” you encourage, teasing his mouth with yours, lost in the pleasure of your mate’s body, “It's all yours.”

“Please,” he pants into your mouth, arching his back to rock on your cock, grinding it inside of himself.

In quick succession, you have Itachi on his back on the grassy floor between the seats. He mewls, reaching over his head to dig his claws in the dirt, back arching as you cover his body. His legs fall open on either side of you as you grind your hips into his. You can hear the other Omegas gasp in excitement at the abrupt change but you pay them no mind. Not when you are on the precipice of orgasm.

Growling, you sink your teeth into Itachi’s neck as you ravage him, your thrusts hard and deep and fast. Your Omega cries out in ecstasy at the repeated battering of his sweet spot, the sound tapering off as he cums. 

Your knot swells, catching against Itachi's swelling tie and its game over. With an almost violent growl, you breed into your mate, emptying yourself entirely inside of him. He mewls happily, hips grinding up into yours as much as he can. 

“Yes, yes, yes,” he pants, pressing a smile against the side of your sweaty face, “My Y/N. Oh…oh it feels….”

“I know,” you croon as you paint the inside of his cunt white, “I know sweetness.” 

“I love you,” he whispers, smiling against your mouth, his arms and legs curling around you. One of his hands roams across your sweaty back, encouraging you to rest against him until the knot shrinks. It won’t take long. He’s already pregnant after all. 

“I love you.” 

Itachi’s eyes drift away from yours to those of his audience, several of whom are watching him already, endearment and happiness shining on their faces. Two of his friends are missing, likely fetching you both a snack and some water. 

“My Alpha is such a good mate,” Itachi whispers to them, deliriously happy.

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My dude, that three headed ghost idea is noice, all I can think about is them trying to fight with each other to just a taste, even if it's only a slither of you. Trying to get them to calm down as they ravage you, like a pack of hungry wolves.

Thinking about three headed ghost giving you a blow job, watching them constantly bumping heads because it’s such a tight fit, having the muscles in your thighs crying in protest because you have to sit so wide to accommodate for all three of them. Whenever one manages to wrap his lips around your dick, the jerking movements coming from the other two causes it to slip out his mouth and slap onto the other twos cheeks.

But it’s not long before you got another mouth delivering tentatively kitten licks to your tip, each lick sending sparks of pleasure running down your spine and leaves you bucking your hips.

Just as you’re about to ask for more please, another mouth eagerly sucks you down. The head is quick to set a steady pace as if he knows he’ll be yanked away any second, obscene squelching sound mingle with the strangled sound escaping your lips. “Fuck just like that please!”

Suddenly a third mouth swallows you down to the hilt, taking you so far you can feel the throat muscles working around your dick.

At this point you can practically taste your release, the coil in your stomach growing tighter as his warm wet mouth keeps sucking your dick. “So ah- so close please!”

There’s a frantic urge to lock the head in place, to keep him from moving away. But your legs are spread so wide you’re unable able to move around, practically left at their mercy and silently praying they’ll let you finish.

However he too is yanked away from your grip, leaving your poor cock surrounded to the frigid air, your release dying down with each second that passes.

At that point you’ve just about had enough, ready to pry yourself away from them and finish yourself up but as you turn to look at them you’re met with the sight of two of the heads making out; licking into each others mouth, sucking on each others tongue, moaning like theyre actually sucking on your cock.

All thoughts leave your head as you sit there looking dumbfounded before you suddenly jerk in place as a pair of lips wrap around your dick. The third head looks at you with watery eyes and lips all slack, as if telling you use me, please

And who are you to deny him that?

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I leave you with this horny thoughts thinking about old man price who wears a thong bc he prefers them over jock straps and you just happen to find that out one day while doing the laundry and he’s bursting into the bathroom panic in eyes trying to ask where his- and of course you already have it in hand he’s quick to turn red in the face tripping over his feet to explain himself but you reassure him it’s okay nothing weird about it even though he looks like he’d rather be somewhere else (like somewhere - 6 feet under the ground -else) you don’t prod more on the subject but you keep this tid bit information in mind especially how those pair of thongs are completely worn out they don’t even look like they’re exactly his size (would they dig into his hips if he wore them for a long time? And if so it probably must hurt) so you take it upon yourself to buy him more pairs taking your sweet time to find fabric that won’t irritate his skin, a size that won’t hurt him, subtly adding it to his ever growing collection and although price turns absolutely red in the face when he finds the new pair of underwear he doesn’t say anything instead he wears it feels amazed at how soft it feels against his skin, how the fabric isn’t digging into his soft abdomen but rather gently cupping it and he feels so pretty and less ashamed it’s strange but he happily wears the pairs you get him but one day you bring him such a pretty pair it looks so expensive feels expensive he can’t help but wonder how much you spent on it and when he puts it on god he feels so pretty wants to show you it so bad even though there’s a small voice in his head telling him that maybe he shouldn’t that he’d be a tad bit ridiculous- no he shouldn’t be thinking that I mean you got him all these pairs in the first place right? Before he can think about it more he puts on the pretty pair you got him, cream white color, material that feels like satin; there are even a couple of pearls to add elegance to the piece and he waits for you to come and when you finally walk through the door he’s down on all four head in the pillow ass clad in a thong

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show me

cw: nsfw (minors dni), bottom lestat, sub lestat, amab reader, no pronouns used, obsessive behavior on both sides, jealous lestat, hair pulling, oral sex, sloppy blowjobs, spit kink, facefucking, scent kink, cum eating, blood, vampire shenanigans, etc.

time setting: uhh pre-canon maybe? early 1900’s

word count: 884

notes: getting this out while i finish the other one-shots. still in season one, so i hope i somewhat nailed tv lestat’s dramatics. inspired by this.

➔ you are responsible for your own media intake

It’s no secret that Lestat is prone to hissy fits.

Once, he’d brought up the topic of an open relationship, which was quickly shut down by himself the night after when he came across you sharing a drink with a tourist. It led up to a lot of screaming and cursing and even bloody tears that left rust colored streaks down his cheeks. Sharing is not in his nature. He’s obsessive and possessive and the thought of you leaving is enough to cause a full blown breakdown.

You watch him pace back and forth in the parlor, spitting rapid fire French. The cause of this fit in particular was the bartender who was unfortunate enough to find you attractive and pay for your drinks. Only your drinks. Not Lestat’s. He took offense to it, even though the way you had sat together made you look like a pair of friends rather than a couple, and it only grew when he caught a glimpse of what the bartender wanted you to do to him.

“That— that putain!” Lestat raves, picking up a vase and throwing it right into the fireplace. It shatters and causes the flames to flicker before they lap at the broken porcelain. There goes a thousand dollar antique. “Shameless! Rude—!”

When he goes to walk past you again, you grab a fistful of his blond curls, and he goes sweet and pliant under your hold. Just like that. His mouth falls slack, pupils blown with desire as he looks at you through his lashes. “Show me,” you tell him, casually.

Lestat blinks slowly, and his mouth works as if it takes significant effort to speak, “Mon coeur?”

“Show me what he wanted, Lestat.” You elaborate, carefully pulling him along as you sit down on the cabriole. Lestat falls to his knees between your spread legs, graceful and cat-like as always. You let go of his hair and move your hands out of the way. He swallows thickly, already salivating at the outline of your cock pressed against your pants, hard since you stepped into the house.

He doesn’t need further instructions, doing quick work of the buttons with deft fingers and pulling your cock out of your underwear. All remaining tension melts from his body the moment he has you in his hand. Lestat lets his tongue hang from his mouth, excess spit dripping onto your cock that he uses to lubricate the strokes of his fist. Wet, slick noises fill the room, and Lestat ducks his head to take you into his mouth, closing his eyes in satisfaction when the tip hits the back of his throat and your balls press against his chin.

Pleasure crackles up your spine, making you groan softly. “Oh, look at you,” you say around an enamored smile, “taking what’s yours.” That elicits a muffled moan, and he draws away to press sloppy kisses along the length of your cock. “Fucking gagging for it, aren’t you?”

Lestat grabs your hand and places it on his head, giving you a pleading look. You card your fingers through his hair and pull hard, burying yourself into his mouth. His throat spasms deliciously at the sudden intrusion, and his cry is muffled around your cock, his tongue drooling and lapping at the underside. He takes a deep breath through his nose, pressed flush against your pubes, and his eyes roll briefly. You’ve caught him before, burying his face into your laundry and taking deep lungfuls. Tucking his nose into your hair, the crook of your neck, your underarms, between your legs. The brat prince is obsessed with your smell. Though, you can hardly judge; you’re just as crazy about him as he is about you.

His eyes are wet and pink with blood when he looks up at you again, his lashes darkening and clumping together. His blue irises a thin ring around the black of his wide pupils. The red tears fall in messy streaks down his cheeks, and his hands run up and down your clothed legs in reverent, possessive caresses. He shudders and whines, sucking hard on your cock and drooling all over your balls until your thrusts form a frothy mess on his chin that soaks into your underwear.

Come in my mouth, his thoughts scream in a needy chant. Come on my tongue, mon coeur. Please. My love. My life. Mine, mine, mine, forever—

You yank him down one last time, groaning as you reach your orgasm. You feel his throat flex around your cock, eagerly swallowing every drop of cum you have to offer. Once he’s done, Lestat releases a happy sigh and sits back on his heels. He licks his lips and obediently opens his mouth when you softly tap his cheek. You press your thumb against the sharp point of one of his fangs, letting blood bubble to the surface. He moans breathily as the taste of your blood spreads over his tongue.

“I love you,” you coo at him, delighted by the way his eyelids flutter deliriously.

“Je t’aime. Je t’adore. Please,” Lestat sniffles, tugging at your clothes. His hair’s a tangled mess, his cheeks stained with bloody trails of pleasured tears, his lips pink and swollen and glistening with saliva.

This is the Lestat you can’t get enough of.

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Sigint 6

[Tags: NSFW, 18+ MDNI, Smut, Fluff here and there, Nikolai x Male Reader, Bottom Nikolai, Top Male Reader]

A/n: I hope he doesn't appear out of character. Even if there's limited knowledge about Nikolai, he's a rather interesting character. I'll probably change his portrayal in an actual fic.

Thinking about how Nikolai would always search for you at every extraction point to ensure you're alive and well. When he knows he can provide an exfil to your mission/operation, he volunteers in a heartbeat despite the dangers it entrusts.

Thinking about Nikolai letting out a sigh of relief after seeing you mount the helo, even if you're bruised and battered. All that matters is that you're alive, time will heal your wounds but he'll ensure that your taken care of.

Thinking about Nikolai's hands cupping your cheeks when back at base, his eyes darting around your scrapes and injures before wrapping his arms around you in a warm comforting embrace.

Thinking about Nikolai's stubbornness in staying by your side as a medic checks on you, though he gets a bit irritated of how they tend to you so carelessly. Silent russian grumbles/curses escape his lips as he glares at one of the medics if they so make you wince in pain or discomfort.

Thinking about skipping the debriefing since Nikolai insisted on taking you to your quarters to rest; saying something along the lines of 'it isn't as important as your recovery'. Your superiors are used it by now so they heed it no mind, lest they want an earful of complaints from the russian pilot.

Thinking about Nikolai kissing every bandage, wound, and bruise better persistently stating that they'll recover faster like that. As if it's not an excuse to pamper you with attention and ease his worries.

Thinking about Nikolai feeling guilty for not being able to keep you out of harms way. Though after some reassurance he understands as always that that's just how this line of work is.

Thinking about Nikolai absentmindedly running his hands over your uncovered skin, peppering and lavishing it with affection. Eventually he's either straddling your lap with his fingers tangled in your locks, or laying with you, his hands snaked under your shirt to trace those hard earned muscles that make his knees weak whenever he sees you working out or fresh out the shower.

Thinking about Nikolai getting riled up from the light touches but not letting you do any of the work as he takes care of everything. His lips merge with yours as he reaches behind him, his lubed digits stretching his tight muscle open for you.

Thinking about the endlessly desperate moans and whimpers Nikolai makes after you take over. Your fingers feel so much better than his, he can't help but grind his hips back onto them, chasing after the pleasure they induce.

Thinking about Nikolai getting tired of the teasing and impaling himself on your hardened cock. The pain and burn of getting split open is quickly subdued by the sensation of your lips against his skin. Your hands help distract him as you stroke him in an agonizingly slow pace, focusing on the weeping tip with your thumb.

Thinking about Nikolai grinding against your lap for any kind of friction to get himself off. Needy pleas and whines encourage you to tease him all the more before giving in and indulging him. Your hips rut against his as you thrust up into his tight heat.

Thinking about the tears of pleasure and overstimulation staining Nikolai's cheeks after falling over the edge one too many times, he's lost track by this point. His legs shaky and trembling as he barely has enough strength to lift himself off your lap.

Thinking about the loud moan Nikolai makes when you push him back down onto your cock to fill him with your spend once more. He feels so delightfully full and whole, a definitive whine is sure to escape him when you remove yourself to begin the aftercare. Relishing every tender touch and action you take to ensure he's comfortable after your passionate session of coitus.

Thinking about the cuddle session that's sure to follow, warm covers and a duvet wrapped around you both. Nikolai resting soundly against your body, soaking up every figment of warm affection you're willing to give him. Sleep weighing down on the two of you as you drift off in each other's arms.

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Ok ok maybe in on a stretch here but just hear me out please‼️

Big Dick! Price x Mid/Little Dick! Reader

Like old man price having a dick too big for anyone to take to he comes across you and wants nothing more than to ride your dick dry. That big old man that’s twice your age with a dick too big that’s basically useless and him being teary-eyed and stupid from how dickmatized he is. Who would have thought that a mid sized dick would made that big man fall apart so easily. Him riding you and his large cock hard, leaky, and flopping up and down slapping on your stomach.

I got a lot more to say about this…

Thinking about Price who’s been a top all of his life mostly because of his size, until he meets you and gets to bottom for the first time.

Prep is a breeze with him, years of fucking his own toys and fantasizing about this very moment has made him able to easily take your fingers, greedy hole practically swallowing your four digits, even huffing and puffing when you insist on dragging things out because you’re afraid of hurting the man. But he assures you that he’ll be okay, sighs in relief when he finally feels you line your cockhead up with his entrance, easily sliding into him without much resistance.

It’e when you set a steady pace that he loses his head, violent sobs escaping his lips and erratically bucking his hips, his fat ass practically swallowing your dick, telling you he wants more and more and more even though you’re balls deep and fucking him so hard you’re rocking the bed beneath him.

It doesn’t take much for Price to flip the two of you around or rather demand to be flipped around and start bouncing on your cock, because he just can’t seem to get satisfied until he takes matters into his own hands. You can see the way his eyes roll into the back of his head, can hear the strangled noises slipping past his lips, can feel him grab your hand and putting it on his ass cheeks, looking content as ever as he sets a steady pace on your dick. panting harder faster deeper, please into your ear even though he’s the one riding you, making a whole mess out of himself in a matter of minutes.

And when he tips over the edge it’s like he’s a bottomless pit, his cum pooling on your stomach and staining your sheets, cock still weeping as you chase your own release. Price can’t even find it in himself to be embarrassed because just as you’ve caught your breath he’s sinking down onto your dick again.

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thinking about retired!price, so insatiable with nothing to do, fingering his cunt and grinding against pillows with your musk thick shirt pressed up against his nose. his body becomes softer with nothing to do, love handles forming and a bigger belly growing, with thighs soft and jiggly, and an ass so pretty and plush like a sweet, juicy peach.

you're still away on deployment, a couple years younger than price and still in your prime. you can't wait for the day where you finally retire, where you can spend the rest of your days with your husband.

but price can't wait—he's paranoid that someone else will get your attention and steal you away from him. someone younger, more attractive, and despite your reassurance that such thing won't happen, it eats away at him. so he does the only logical thing he can come up with.

when you come back on break, you have a hard time getting john off you. he's insatiable, his fingers running all over your body, more than happy to pull down your pants and lavish your cock in affection. he'll throw you onto bed, remind you why exactly he was captain, and milk you for all you're worth. he'll run you dry and keep on going, as if he was young again. and sure, his legs burn, exhaustion nips at him, but fuck, he'll keep on making you cum inside his pussy if it means he'll have your kids.

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Thinking about Ghost who loves physical touch but everyone assumes he doesn't.

Sfw/somewhat angsty in the beginning then Nsfw. DNI: Minors, Fem Aligned, Accounts that are ageless and or have no pronouns.

This is my work, don't copy or steal nor put into AI. Thank you :3c 5,163 words

GN reader, but clearly made with masc/men aligned in mind! Nsfw will be at the end and have a - at the beginning and end of it to signify it. Also reader does top by penetrating Simon with only their fingers, and it is hinted at that reader rails him after but isn't written so everyone masc aligned can enjoy! (Also hinted at polyam 141 at the end).

Thinking about Ghost who loves physical touch, but everyone assumes he doesn't. Even those who arguably know him quite well tend to hesitate, or barely have ever touched him.

It stings him a bit when he sees how easily Price taps his hand on Gaz or Soap. How Price will even slap their chest and or call them sunshine.

It burns when Gaz is able to pull Soap into a friendly hug, bantering away with the other man. Sure Gaz will share a joke or two with Ghost, but the easy camaraderie he has with Soap and Price is never shown to Ghost.

It downright hurts when all Soap ever does is touch his shoulders, or bump his fist against his chest. Never pushing further and pulling him into a hug, but he's glad Soap at least banters with him. Pulling small breathy chuckles from him as they share their jokes, from dad jokes to army jokes to dark but actually pretty funny jokes. Those moments soothe the longing and loneliness he feels, soothing the buildup of emotions lodging itself into his chest.

That's why it's a surprise when you come along, having been added to the team by Price.

Price had explained that you were too friendly with your allies, liked to pull people into hugs as a greeting. Granted, you never did so without making sure the person was okay with it. But you were too rambunctious, and while your previous team was okay with it, it got on their nerves and annoyed them as time went on.

When he had heard that, he had let out a laugh. "I'm sure we'll kick 'em off that habit, doubt the newbie would hug me." Garnering chuckles from the 141. Internally, however, Ghost was reeling.

How could anyone get annoyed at physical affection? It's all Ghost ever wants, someone he knows is safe pulling him into a hug. Someone he knows has his back, easily slinging their arm around his shoulders. He wants to be put in those playful headlocks, he wants to be gently moved to the side by someone who isn't afraid to put their hand on his back or waist.

Internally, he thinks your previous team is ungrateful and stupid. And he hopes that you'll share that easy affection with him too.

Of course it takes you a bit to warm up with the 141, not shy around them but obviously trying to gain your footing. But when you do, it's the friendlier ones you start to show affection to first.

The first one is Soap, who had been sent on a solo mission. When he had came back, you were the first one to greet him and pull him into a hug. Congratulating him for coming back safe, uncaring that he's all dirty and reeks. Soap of course, is dead tired and melts into the hug. Clearly needing it by the way his hands shakily come up to your back and grab on. His body leaning against yours as he buries his face into your neck, and you? You had the biggest, most warmest smile on your face as you let the man cling onto you. Not even hesitating to help him towards the showers, muttering how a debrief can wait, and rushing off to Soap's room to grab him some clothes to change into.

He had watched that all with wide eyes, want flaring in his gut as he sees the way Soap tiredly looks at you rush off with a small grin.

"We've got ourselves a sweetheart, don't we Lt?" Soap's tired exhale is lighthearted, his eyes meeting Ghost's.

"We sure do Johnny. Now hop in, you reek." Soap's laughter reaches your ears as you speedily return, making you curious and ask what was so funny. Handing the clothes to Soap who just smiles and pats your arm in thanks.

"Don't worry about it, thanks for this." Soap smiles warmly, turning around to head into the showers and closing the door behind him.

After that, it was Gaz. The man had been feeling down lately, revealing to the team that his partner had broken up with him right before valentine's day. That they had been sweethearts since they were teens, and this breakup had him reeling as he truly thought they were the one for him.

Of course you being the person you are, you had sought out every single thing you knew Gaz liked. You made him tea just the way you had seen him make it, handing it to him without a word and scampering away. Leaving a confused 141 behind, as you do so. All of them sitting on the chairs and couches in the rec room, eyes going to Gaz when he lets out a small noise.

"How the hell has the newbie managed to make my tea exactly the way I like it?" Gaz's eyes are wide, looking at the others with disbelief.

"You guys haven't noticed? The guy's observant, I could practically see the mental notes taken whenever we like something a certain way." Price pipes up, leaning back in his chair as he chuckles.

That makes them all begin to think, sure they had noticed your eyes on them. But had brushed it off as curiosity, and as you figuring out the nonverbal boundaries of the team.

You come back a while later, Gaz's tea long gone by now. With four bags in your hand as you walk in.

"Happy Valentine's day, everyone." You murmur softly, a slight hint of worry in your tone as you dump a bag in Gaz's lap first before dumping a bag in the rests of their laps. You run off once more, to do God knows what, and leave them reeling once more.

"No way!" Is the exclamation that has all of their heads turning to Gaz once more, whose face is now filled with excitement instead of his earlier sad mood.

"All of my favorite sweets, some clothes in my favorite color, flowers, and new headphones to replace my broken ones? This is better than anything my ex ever did!" Gaz's excited words had them all pausing, before eagerly ruffling through their own bag.

It seems you truly did pay attention to them each.

While they all roughly got the same things as Gaz. Sweets they like, clothes they like, a flower (less than Gaz's amount since he did just go through a breakup), and an item they had expressed wanting recently but haven't had the time to grab.

It was the fact that each of their things was truly meant with them in mind. Even Ghost had thought no one had paid attention to his mumbling about his favorite color, or the fact he needed some new gloves from this one brand he likes. The military issued gloves were too rough on his skin, and the brand was just as good but better on his hands.

You hide away for a bit, before finally showing up once more. Ducking your head when they all thank you, Gaz coming up to you and putting a hand on your shoulder.

"Thank you, I really appreciate you trying to cheer me up. It worked very well." Gaz says softly, an easygoing grin on his face. Only to let out a slight oof when you drag him into a hug. Making the man chuckle, but he leans into it, clearly needing someone to simply be there for him.

"It was no problem." You mumble softly, one arm wrapped around Gaz's waist as the other moves up and down his back. Your hand gentle but firm as you rub Gaz's back, making the man breathe out and close his eyes.

"You're a good man, and I know you'll find the true love of your life soon." Sure they had all said the same thing to him, but you're still newish. So it's different coming from you, making Gaz soften just a bit more and melt against you.

The next one is Price. Price who seems to be at his wits end, pacing and storming around the place. His hand smoothing down his beard as he mumbles to himself.

Usually everyone just steers clear of Price for a bit, letting him stew until he makes eye contact with them first. Then they ask him what's wrong, getting the man to finally cease his pacing. Only for them to hear him sigh and shake his head, a firm "nothing" leaving his lips.

But you take one look at him, and just.... Seem to know what to do.

Price doesn't even register your very light hand on his back guiding him towards the couch. Just goes along with it as his muttering continues, only half noting what you're doing.

You stand behind him, your hands running along his shoulders for a moment. Before finally beginning to massage Price's shoulders and neck, lightly at first. Enough to make the man's muttering stop, but his hand keeps smoothing his beard and his body remains tense.

"Tell me Captain. What's wrong?" Your voice low and soothing, not wanting to overwhelm the man.

"It's nothing, just getting too worked up in my head." About to get up when your firm hands push him back down, getting a surprised grunt from him.

"That happens to me too sometimes. I get so frustrated over things, but instead of bottling it up, I do something to get my thoughts and feelings out. What do you do when that happens, sir?" Surprisingly, putting yourself in the same light as him has Price's tight lipped hold on his thoughts loosening. Empathy truly works, as your hands become more firm on his shoulders and neck.

You know you found the right pressure when he lets out a groan, letting you work the tightness out as he finally begins to spill his thoughts to you. The others watch with wide eyes as you do what they never really could as easily, always having to really pry the other man's thoughts out of him.

Ghost, by this point, thought you were afraid to touch him too. Granted, you treated him just like the others but.... You haven't had that breakthrough moment you did with the others with him, and at this point you had been around for a bit longer now. Enough for the term newbie to be freshly dropped away, and your callsign or last name to be used more often.

He had been walking past your quarters when he heard faint sniffling and muttering coming from behind your door. Concerned, he knocks twice gently before you murmur a soft come in. Your puffy eyes and sad smile meet him as you continue to rub off the tears that had no doubt just been on your cheeks.

"What's wrong, are you alright?" His low voice filled with concern as he walks into your room and closes the door behind him, meeting your tired gaze.

"Yeah, I'm alright. Just got something silly in my head, I'll be fine in a moment." You rub your face as you stand up, letting out a weak chuckle as you look at him.

"Are you sure? You know I wouldn't mind if you talked to me or needed something." He says gently, voice as soothing as he can make it. Something he hasn't had to really do in a long time, not having anyone to comfort in years.

He sees you debate his words in your head, a long momentary pause, before finally nodding your head.

"I need a hug, if you don't mind?" Your voice far too weak for his liking, making Ghost's heart clench as he opens up his arms.

"Course, come on then-" Barely finishing his sentence before you're lunging towards him and hugging him tightly, your face burying against him as you finally touch him.

Parts of Simon feel guilty for finding some relief in your hug, especially since you needed one so bad. But a bigger part of him is just happy he can help you during this moment, his arms wrapping around you and pulling you tight against him.

"You'll be sound soon, mate. Just relax for me, alright?" He mumbles lowly, feeling you nod and relax into the hug. The desperation in your grip loosening, but you keep your arms wrapped around him.

After that moment, it seems the wall had been broken down.

You would find him wherever he was and sling an arm around his shoulder, asking him with a smile how his day was so far. Or he'd be making himself tea and grabbing a mug from the cupboards, only to feel your hand on his waist as you squeeze past him. You'd even plop down next to him, squeezing yourself half onto his lap and half onto the seat of the armchair he sits upon, happily talking to him.

He loves it.

But he especially loves seeing the rest of the 141 look on with wide eyes, as if they can't believe he isn't throwing you halfway across the room. Sure they know that's not how he'd actually react, plus they know he doesn't mind small touches here and there. But he knows it's a sight to see when he melts into your touch, not minding more than just a hesitant pat on the shoulder or chest.

What he didn't expect was for the others to start showing him affection too, emboldened by your actions and becoming more touchy with him. Suddenly Price isn't hesitating anymore when he taps his shoulder or chest, even smiling and calling him Simon even more warmly than before. Suddenly Gaz is bantering with him and putting an arm around his shoulder, no longer hesitant to make a harmless joke at Ghost's expense. Suddenly Soap is pulling him into a hug after Ghost is sent on a long solo mission, strong arms easily handling his weight as he marches him to the showers.

It's everything he's been wanting and more, soothing the stings and burning want in his chest that no longer appears. His mood becoming brighter as the days go on, and he knows everyone's picked up on it. All thanks to you, and the ease you have when it comes to affection.

- That's why it surprises him when he starts to crave more, his eyes wandering to your hands and face. Wondering what it is he could possibly want from you now, after all he has everything he's been aching for. What else is there for him to need or desire?

It isn't until you're all at the pub near the base, needing time to unwind from the common stressors of being in the military. He doesn't quite know what or who started this conversation, but he tries to pretend he isn't paying rapt attention to your words as he sips at his drink.

"Yeah I've had men, women, people of all genders in my bed before. Tried quite a few things and figured out exactly what I like." You say easily, not quite as buzzed from the one drink you have in your hand. Smiling when Gaz and Soap turn to you with interest, curiosity in their eyes.

"Really? Would have never thought you were all that experienced." Soap's surprised tone makes you laugh, landing a hand on his shoulder as your own shake in amusement.

"You thought I was a massive virgin? I'm hurt MacTavish." Making everyone chuckle before Gaz grabs your attention.

"So what did you figure out is exactly what you like? If you don't mind me asking." Gaz asks, eyes on you like a hawk that's found something quite interesting. Always being the one to want to know more about whatever he finds intriguing.

"Men. Preferably strong, tall, and manly. Makes them all the more sweeter when I take them apart." You pause, realizing you've just said a bit too much to your team. Making you duck your head slightly as an embarrassed grin makes its way across your face.

"That was a lot, maybe this drink is affecting me more than I thought." You all laugh it off, changing the subject seamlessly after some harmless teasing. But Simon?

Simon was reeling.

He can't help but imagine it. Those hands of yours wrapped around his length, slowly pumping him as your other hand's fingers pushing into him. Your mouth spilling out warm praise about how good he's being, how beautiful he is as you take him apart.... It has him clearing his throat and excusing himself to use the bathroom, unaware of how your eyes follow him with curiosity and guilt. Wondering if you've made him uncomfortable.

He's at the sink, the back of his mask rolled up so he can cool the back of his neck and lower face with water. Hearing you come in, giving you a glance before he continues to try and cool down.

"Hey, I'm.... I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable back there. I know not everyone is alright with sexual topics being a bit vulgar." You mumble, avoiding his eyes in the mirror as you look away. Your words have him pausing, pausing for too long.

"I'll just go, I'm sorry Ghost." But that's wrong, his callsign is wrong coming from your lips when not on a mission. Something in his chest clenching as he rushes to grab your hand, stopping you from leaving.

"Don't apologize, or call me Ghost. I wasn't uncomfortable, you never make me uncomfortable." He whispers, letting go of your hand when you turn to face him.

"Then why'd you leave so stiffly and suddenly, Simon?" Murmuring under your breath, wiping off the wetness of your hand on your pants after his wet hand had grabbed yours. Uncertainty in your gaze as you look at him.

He hates that, never wanting you to be unsure around him.

He breathes in, warring with himself internally. Does he tell you the truth, that what you said had him hot and bothered? Wanting you to take him apart so skillfully, ruining him for anybody else. Or does he lie and say some other asinine thing to make you think the timing was just coincidental.

He pauses, before steeling himself. He'll tell you the truth, and hopes for the best case scenario. Even if things go south and you become awkward around him, he'll give you your space until things can hopefully settle once more.

"I left because what you described had me wanting it badly. I left because you got me all hot and bothered, and I didn't want everyone to see me shamelessly want beg you to take me apart." He tries to ignore the anxiety pooling in his gut as you take in his words, his already damp palms starting to become sweaty as he stands before you. Feeling like a weak schoolboy confessing to his crush, even locking his knees in place the second he feels them wobble.

God, Simon. Get it together.

The relief he feels when you smile at him, leaning in close as you slowly put your hands on his waist. A shudder running through him as you begin to whisper.

"You want me to take care of you, Simon? Take you apart until all you know is how my name tastes in your mouth?" Your voice pitched low, sensual. It has his breath hitching in his chest as he nods, probably a bit too enthusiastically when you laugh softly at him.

"Then come on, sweet thing. Let's head back to base and I'll take care of you, yeah?"

He's glad for his mask as he feels himself become flushed, letting you hold his hand and guide him back to the table with the others. Knees slightly wobbling at the way he can feel your thumb rub soothing circles on the back of his hand.

"Lads, Simon and I are heading back to base. He's not feeling too hot, and I'm feeling peaky myself. Probably a bug going around that's decided to hit us now." Easily creating an excuse, voice so nonchalant that if he didn't know you were taking him to base for other reasons, he'd believe it too.

After the others nod, say they hope you both feel better and that they are staying for a bit longer, you head off. Hand in hand towards the base that Simon wishes was a bit closer so you can have him faster.

When you finally get him into your room, he feels a bit out of his element. Sure he isn't a stumbling virgin, but usually Simon takes the lead. Having his flings moaning and crying out his name, melting into the sheets as he makes them come apart.

So he's a bit out of his depth, standing awkwardly in the middle of your room as you lock your door. Turning around and smiling knowingly at him, walking up to him and running your hands slowly down his arms.

"Relax, alright? Just let me lead, and I'll take good care of you Simon." Your voice sends a wave of heat through him, makes him swallow thickly and breathe out slowly.

"Alright." He echoes back just as soft and quiet, breath hitching in his chest as your hands move to his waist. Leaning forward to kiss his lips through his mask, then sensation making him shudder.

Your lips are distracting, even with the mask in the way, your hands just as much as well. He doesn't even realize that you've got him on laid out on the bed until you pull away from his lips, chuckling when he tries to lean up and follow them.

"Relax, be good for me yeah? I won't leave you wanting, doll." You peck his lips once more, teasing your hands at the hem of his shirt. Simon thanks his lucky stars he decided to forgo his usual layers and just wear a long-sleeve shirt instead. The heat of your hand radiating through that simple touch has him practically about to keen.

He nods, settling down and helping you remove his shirt. Gasping when your hands finally explore his body without a thin barrier blocking the feel of your skin against his. He bites down on his bottom lip when you begin to kiss and nip your way down to his chest, breathing out through his nose when your mouth meets his pecs.

Fuck. You're too good at this. Tongue swirling as you suck on his nipple, treating his chest like he's got the plumpest tits in the world. Your fingers coming up to play with the other side, making his back arch up into the sensations. He didn't even know he would enjoy his chest being played with so much, and the way you're going about it has him weakly moaning low in his throat as he fists the sheets.

"That's it love, sound so sweet for me. Doing so good, behaving perfectly." You nip at his pec, before bringing your mouth to the other one. Making Simon buck against you, breathless as he loses himself in the easy and pleasurable haze you're putting him in. He doesn't even notice the whimpers leaving his slack lips, because you're touching him so fucking good.

He whines, honest to god whines when you pull your mouth away to kiss further down. Licking and sucking your way down his stomach, kissing just below his navel. Nosing his happy trail as your fingers trace his belt, looking up at him with a soft smile.

"Can I?" Laughing lightly when he nods enthusiastically, already lifting his hips up to help you slide them off.

When he's bare under your eyes, you can't help the breathless noise you make as you drink him in. His flush chest is puffy and thighs spread wide, his thick length twitching against his stomach. He looks so delicious like this, surprising you when he reaches up and rips his mask off. Mouth wide open as he pants, and you're struck with the feeling that you did that to him.

"There you are pretty boy, so gorgeous." You hum out, kissing his thighs and smiling as his cock jumps the closer you get. You don't tease him for long, because you need to taste him and hear the sweet sounds he'll make.

Simon doesn't disappoint, crying out hoarsely when you lick slowly up his length. Throwing his head back and fisting the sheets when you take his tip into your mouth, hips squirming with the need to buck up more into your warm mouth. Making you huff through your nose, and hold his hips down, feeding more of his arousal down your throat.

You peer up at him through your lashes, humming around him at the sight you see. Flush chest heaving as he looks down at you, eyes teary and wide. Cheeks darkened by his blush that spans down the length of his neck and reaches up to the tips of his ears. Knowing he's getting close as his thighs tense around you, and his tip steadily leaks more into your inviting mouth.

Pulling off while wiping your mouth, you coo at him sympathetically when he protests. Claiming he was so close, and just needed a bit more. Making you lean down to finally taste those bitten red lips of his without his mask blocking the way, shushing the man up.

"Can I finger you? Unless you want to do things differently? Your choice love." You rasp, throat already beginning to sound wrecked from the fact you had his long length in your throat.

He groans but settles down, going pliant against the sheets while you reach into the nightstand next to your bed. Grabbing your lube, then kneeling between his legs after kissing him breathless. Smiling when he whines once more, letting himself watch you lazily through his wet lashes.

"That's it love, stay relaxed and sweet for me yeah?" Uncapping the lube and pouring it onto your cupped palm, closing and tossing it on the bed. You rub your hands together, slicking your fingers and warming the cold lube. His breathing beginning to calm down, only for him to jolt when one of your warm slick hands wrap around his length to stroke him slowly.

You scoot a bit closer, sitting back on your heels as your thighs hold his thighs up and open for you. His hole twitching as your pointer finger traces his rim slowly, getting him used to the feeling as your strokes quicken enough to distract him. Smiling when he breathes in sharply, biting down on his bottom lip as his hips roll up.

"You ever been opened up like this? Soft and slow?" You ask softly, sinking in the tip of your finger slowly when his mouth falls open to answer. Making the man groan as he shakes his head, fisting the sheets once more.

"No, never.... Never like this, like I'm fragile." He hums when your finger pushes in more, hole swallowing your finger easily because of how lax against the pillows he is. Shuddering when you begin to slowly explore and stretch his walls gently, hips bucking up with a moan when you graze his prostate.

"Right there love?" He nods at your question, eyes rolling back as you press and circle the gland with the pad of your finger. Leaning down to kiss and suck on his chest once more, his hand coming up to gently grab the back of your head. Unable to help his moaning as you play his body expertly, a piano under the hands of a pianist. A violin in the grasp of a violinist, a canvas being painted on by an artist.

"Fuck you sound so sweet, darling. Feels good doesn't it?" You mumble, lifting your head up to look at Simon's face. Cheeks flushed, lips spit-slicked and red, puffs of air escaping his mouth as he looks up at you. And God, you just can't help but taste his lips again. His sweet low moans adding to your pleasure of knowing this big man is all yours to slowly break apart, so strong yet mush beneath your touch.

"I need—fuck—another finger. Please." He pleads against your lips, leaning forward to slot your lips together. Whining into your mouth as another slick finger slides into him, your other hand speeding up its strokes. Punched out groans and gasps swallowed up by your mouth until you pull away, leaning back up to watch where your hands touch and push. Your eyes zoned in on making this man sing for you.

And that's exactly what you do, curling your fingers just right. Stretching him open on another finger, smoothing you thumb against his tip before smoothly stroking down his length. It's easy and mind numbing pleasure for him when he cries out your name, your name ringing in your ears and vibrating around your skull. Pulling your hand on his length away to clean up the mess he made, his cock twitching valiantly when your tongue darts out to lick it up. His eyes on yours as he shudders through the aftershocks, walls squeezing around your still fingers.

With how his chest heaves, you thought he wouldn't be able to go another round. Beginning to slowly take your fingers out when he reaches down to stop your wrist, slowly sinking back down onto your hand.

"We've got all night, and I want to see you taken care of too." He moans when your fingers are fully back in him again, letting go of your wrist to lean up on his elbows. Lazy smile on his face when he hears your sharp intake of breath.

"You're right, we do have all night don't we?" -

The next day you and Simon are clean and dressed, walking towards the rec room and wondering why none of the 141 wants to meet your eyes. You don't wonder for long when Price speaks up, tips of his ears red despite the professional look on his face.

"We all came back right after you two did. So we heard.... We heard everything."

Had you been lesser than, you would have hauled ass to your room. But luckily enough for you, it's Simon who puts a hand on your shoulder. Stopping you from making your great escape to never show your face again.

He leans close, masked lips pressing against your ear.

"Look at them, love. They aren't embarrassed, nor trying to embarrass us." He whispers, voice sending a shiver down your spine as you pay attention.

The other men were looking at you with curiosity, intrigue, desire. Making your eyes widen for a moment, before settling into the thought of taking apart each of the other members of this team. Imagining what each would taste and sound like, if they'd be as sweet as Simon.

And well.... Maybe Simon wouldn't mind sharing as long as he remains the one who's mostly benefitting from your touch.

[imgayforgaystuff]

Imagine Intoxicated Sex With Ghost

CW:NSFW, MDNI, intoxicated sex (weed) Subbot Ghost, domtop Mreader, safe/sane/consensual, smoking, playing with hands, anal, recreational drug use.

Ghost doesn't like being inebriated. Even when out drinking with the lads at the nearest pub he'll never reach the point of intoxication where he can't drive a car or punch a man's lights out if he needs to. He saw what booze did to his pa, saw what the drugs did to Tommy, he doesn't want the Riley 'legacy' to dig it's roots into him — just the thought of it makes his stomach churn and his lungs feel like they're infested with black mold.

But sometimes when both of you are on leave, the battlefield miles away yet the lingering ache of it all filling his bones with static, he'll indulge in the weed his doc prescribed. It took him a while to be comfortable to use it, both with himself and you. But he trusts you, knows you won't do anything to him that you two hadn't agreed to prior; you're good for him like that.

Too good.

Making the blunt feels intimate in a way Ghost can't describe. The way you sit right next to him on the couch, both of you on even level, works to relax some of the usual tenseness in his spine. It's the careful glide of your knife along the cheap cigar to create a clean cut so you can empty the dried leaves into the trash that has his heart beating a little faster — then again, he's always liked the look of a knife in your hands and how precise you could be with it.

He'd die before he told you his thoughts, so he takes the empty cigar paper without a word and carefully measures how much of the weed he puts in, just a little shy of the recommended dose. He feels your nonjudgmental gaze on his fingers as he rolls the makeshift blunt, yours might be the only one that doesn't make his skin prickle with discomfort.

"You're getting better at that." You note. Ghost's blunt making skill isn't such a slop-job as it used to be when he first started doing this, but it's by no means pretty. "Practice some more and they might start looking half-assed."

"Sod off." The edge in his tone would cut deeper if he didn't bump his shoulder against yours. "At least I don't make 'em look like logs of shite."

"Mean." You tut but shoulder his weight without complaint and wrap an arm around his waist. He leans further on you until he ends up laying across your lap, his back pinning your legs down and his head resting on the couch arm, making himself comfortable like a cat in a sunning spot.

"What? Can't handle the truth?" He says, staring at the blunt in his hand. You don't rush him, sitting in comfortable silence with your hand loosely carding through his disheveled hair, fingers scratching his scalp and the soft blond strands curling at his nape for a few minutes while Simon prepares himself. You know he's ready when he pulls the face mask off his face, biting the end of the blunt between his teeth and turning his head towards you.

You reach to hold his jaw, the sensation of your fingers scraping against his stubble both electric and calming for him. With a small 'click' an equally small flame sparks at the tip of the lighter, the fire dances in his dark eyes as you hold it at the other end of the blunt until it's tip is ignited.

Simon holds the blunt with his fingers, eyes closing as he takes a deep and controlled breath. The smoke lazily crawls down his trachea to settle in his lungs, he holds his breath until there's a small tightness in his chest before breathing out just as slowly. It takes a couple more puffs before he can feel the vestiges of that lazy high begin to nibble on his nerves, eyes cracking open to look at your visage through the dancing smoke.

Weed takes the edge off life for him; the constant ache of his body is easy to forget when the pleasant buzz fills his skull, chest full of feathers and a deep floaty calmness settling in his bones. Only his spine feels weird, like his lower back is made of kinetic sand, muscles tensing and relaxing but even that works to calm him down, ground him to the sensation of your fingers carding through his hair.

When a low grunt escapes him you lean down, plucking the blunt from his lips to kiss him. This kiss isn't rushed like most of your intimacy needs to be — you have all the time in the world. Ghost opens his mouth and hums into the kiss, the taste of weed on his tongue as he lazily licks into your mouth and along your teeth, lingering whisps of smoke escaping through the crack of both of your lips.

You part so he can take another drag of the blunt, your warm lips leaving chaste kisses on his forehead, nose, eyebrows, cheeks, eyelids when he flutters them shut, and anywhere where you can reach. From the corner of his eye he sees you turn the Tv on, setting some cartoon on a low volume to further ease him into the mental space of calmness. Then your free hand reaches to loosely hold his own free hand, your thumb tracing the scars on the back of his hand.

Your hands don't wander any lower, letting him feel your warmth while he lazily finishes his blunt until it's gone. "You alright Si?" You ask.

"Like a hog in shite." He manages, tilting his head to further lean into your hand that's scratching his scalp. It's something he loves about you — the slow approach you like to take with him. Not just jumping straight to sex, though that's fun too, but sitting there with him, letting him ramble about who knows what while you two watch some shite cartoon, giving him sweet kisses when his hand tugs on your shirt.

It makes Simon's heart feel like it could leap from his chest if his ribs weren't in the way. Fuck, at times like these he could probably spill his heart out to you if the weed didn't line his tongue with lead. He still tries in his own way, taking your hand that's holding his and starting to play with your fingers. Following the lines of your palm with his thumb, curling your fingers and laying sloppy kisses along your knuckles, humming contently when you hold his jaw loosely and scrape your thumb against his stubble.

Simon doesn't know when he gets aroused. Only that one moment he's not, and by the time you two part from another lazy kiss he's tenting his sweatpants.

"Hey," Simon grunts, holding your hand by the wrist as he nibbles on your finger. "Want you."

"You already have me." You snort.

Even high as a kite Simon's not all too pleased with your humor, nipping your finger just at the edge of pain. "Smart arse." His lips follow his teeth to soothe the bite with a small kiss. "Want your cock."

Straight to the point, that one.

A small laugh escapes you, "Alright, alright." He grumbles like a bear roused from hibernation when you have him sit up. He grips your shirt to demand one more kiss from you, your lips distracting him so he doesn't notice when you pick him up. The face he makes is hilarious, like a dog that thinks he's too heavy to be picked up.

But he gets over it quickly, large arms wrapping around your neck to hold onto you as you stumble to the bedroom. A breath escapes him when you lay him down on the bed and he doesn't let go, resulting in you tumbling into bed on top of him. The curse you let out when you fall on him makes him giggle like a school boy.

He's absolutely no help when you try to take his clothes off, laying there like a sack of potatoes and only occasionally wriggling in place. Simon gives you an annoyed look and a chiding "Why'r you so slow?" when you have him lift his hips so you can slide his sweatpants and boxers down his legs. His cock bobs against his belly, a tiny drop of precum smearing against his skin.

"Because you're no help." You grunt, quickly taking your own clothes off. "Seriously Si, you're like trying to move a mountain."

But you don't mind him being like this. You love it, and you love him when he just huffs something under his breath and flops over on his front. He spreads his legs, his hard cock laying between his thighs and his hole just peeking out from between his cheeks. "Mhm," Humming Simon hugs the pillow, nuzzling his cheek into it as he gives you a lazy look, his pupils blown wide and eyes puffy. "Sounds like an excuse t'me."

Even with you it took him a while before he could turn his back to you like this, trust you like this.

"Fuck Simon, look at you." Gently you push another pillow under his hips to hike them up and the way he arches his back to grind his cock against it has your breath stuttering in your chest. You can't keep your hands off him, gingerly massaging the back of his thighs as you slowly trail up, purposely skipping over his ass to dig your thumbs into his lower back. "Gorgeous."

Simon lets out a slow breath as your fingers make the muscles relax, eyes closing and his back rippling as he melts into the sheets. "Well aren't you a charmer." His voice is mumbled into the pillow and the small wiggle of his ass he does to entice you is cute as hell. "C'mon." He nags, throwing the harshest glare he can at you. "Fuck me already." He demands, but he doesn't try to get up from his position, content to just lay and have you listen to his commands.

That's another thing side of Ghost you only see when he's high as a kite — he likes being a pillow prince, to give you orders and rest easy knowing you won't do anything he doesn't want. If it doesn't make your heart melt, that he trusts you like that, you don't know what will.

"Alright, alright," You placate him by finally groping his ass while you grab the lube on the nightstand with your other hand. You squirt a generous amount on your hand and warm it up between your fingers, settling between his legs in a way you can lay kisses along his spine while you slowly circle your fingers around his hole. You reach around with your other hand to lazily stroke him, the lube making the glide of your hand smooth and pleasant.

He's more vocal like this, a low half moan leaving him as Simon closes his eyes. Usually the feeling of a body looming over his back would have him tensing and bearing his teeth, but all he does now is breathe in and relax, muscles tensing for a fraction of a moment when your fingers breach him before he relaxes again. Simon's arms tense to hug the pillow tighter, the soft material muffling the soft moans and deeper grunts you pull from his chest with every small movement of your finger.

It's impossible for you not to tease him. "You like that, sweet prince?" But your tone is light and loving, pushing your finger deeper and distracting him from the small hints of pain the stretching of his muscles brings by stroking his cock more firmly, thumbing his cumhole.

Simon moans unabashedly and nods, biting the pillow and worrying it between his teeth when you push another finger inside him. "Mhm," He doesn't deny it. He can't deny it when the weed in his system makes the pleasure 10 times stronger, the usual electric pleasure now slowly replacing the marrow in his bones as your fingers twist and curl against his slick walls. "So good fer me." He mumbles.

Simon feels like he's floating on a cloud; Each kiss along his spine makes small shivers race down his limbs, the coldness of you pouring more lube over his hole complementing the heat of your hand around his cock, his drool soaking into the pillow and the sweetest sounds escaping him as you stretch him out. His cock leaks a constant stream of precum, his hips occasionally giving minute twitches to fuck into your hand but he's too relaxed to do more than that.

"Ready?" You ask when you think he's stretched enough, slowly pulling your fingers out of him. His hole clenches around nothing, dollops of slick lube escaping past his rim and running down his heavy balls; neither him nor his body is happy about the sudden lack of stimulation.

"Hurry." He orders, cracking an eye to watch you from the corner of his eye as you trail kisses up his spine until you're draped over him, catching his lips in a sloppy kiss while you lube your cock and line yourself up.

He moans into your mouth when the tip of your cock pops into him. "Fuck, yes lovie- just like that. . ." Your name sounds like honey on his tongue as you slide in deeper. His muscles contract and relax with each inch you push into him until he's left panting against the pillow when your balls finally rest against him. He's so hot around you, slick and pliant and trusting, blindly seeking you out for another kiss as you both adjust to the new position.

"Good?" You lazily stroke his cock again, feeling his back muscles ripple against your front as the pleasure washes over his system.

"Perfect." He moans and rolls his hips into your hand, simultaneously fucking himself onto your cock. "Move."

"Yes sir." You grin. You keep the pace slow and loving, a continuous and slow roll of your hips making your cock drag against his prostate. Reaching out to hold his free hand you rock your hips to meet his own movements. Each slow scrape of your cock against his walls has him whimpering, an occasional sharp thrust earning you a pleased moan, the pillow muffling the little breathy 'ah- hah-hm- ah' he makes when you grind your cock as deep as it'll go while rubbing his shaft.

Pleasure continues to build in his body, muscles tensing and relaxing, every single thought melting out of his skull save for your name that he moans like a prayer, your loving movements slowly and steadily turning Simon into a pile of goo. He doesn't even notice when he cums, it rushes through him like lightning striking a tree, pearly cum spurting over your hand as he shouts a loud "Fuck!".

You slow down only for a few seconds, long enough for him to come down from his high and begin grumbling and whining, showing you that he's nowhere near reaches his limit despite his cock softening in your hand. So you indulge his gluttonous side, starting to slowly thrust into him as you stroke his soft shaft. You cum eventually, his hole greedily clenching around you as you shoot your cum inside him and then keep going on fucking him until his voice becomes hoarse from screaming your name.

By the time you two are well and truly done you're both wrung dry, a sizable puddle of cum formed beneath his cock and his hole loose and lax, trying to clench around your cock and the cum you fucked deep inside him.

You use what sense you have in your skull that hadn't melted through your cock to roll you to over on the side so he's not laying in his own cum. Simon grunts when you attempt to pull out, gripping your hand as tightly as his relaxed muscles can until you get the message and lay back down, spooning him with your cock still deep inside him.

And fuck, the buzz of weed and pleasure from sex has him so loose and relaxed you could do anything to him and he wouldn't object. But you don't, simply cuddling up against his back and kissing his sweaty nape.

He loves you for that. He loves that he can trust you. He doesn't know when the last time was when he was this relaxed. A small giggle escapes him and he tilts his head back so you can lay kisses on his neck.

"Love you too Si." He hears you mutter against his ear before he falls asleep. And for the first time since the last time you two did this, does he sleep without the nightmares of a cold grave and a burning home haunting his dreams.

Tag list: @dead-end-stuff

[imgayforgaystuff]

It's kind of sad to see that so many people hate Wyll because he's too ''nice''. I fucking love the man! So seeing someone write about him makes my heart throb <3

BG3 Men and their favorite ways to have sex (first installment as I will give each man their own post!)

Nsfw do not interact: Minors, Fem Aligned, no pronouns in bio, no age in bio.

Character in this: Wyll

Cw: M!Reader is topping. Sweet sex, morning sensual sex, slight edging, fingering, blowjob, aftercare/breakfast in bed (reader is so sweet to him! As reader should be!)

941 words, I made this. Don't use this/put this in ai. Thank you :3

Wyll likes morning sex. Waking up to your warm hands trailing up his sides, your lips brushing against the back of his neck gently. The sensations send a shiver down his spine, his head leaning back to give you more room to work with. Mouth falling open when your hands reach his nipples, rubbing and rolling his sensitive buds for a moment.

His sleepy state lessens as one of your hands trail down to graze against his hard length. Making him inhale sharply and look down to watch your fingers run over his wet tip. Bare body unrestrained as he bucks his hips up for more.

"I've got you, my love. Just wanted to wind you up for a moment." You chuckles against his neck, kissing it once more before moving to settle yourself between his legs. Wyll already lying back comfortably, eyes heavy and lidded as he looks up at you. Cock twitching as you drink in his naked form, still warm and soft from sleep. His own eyes trail across your form, breath hitching once his gaze lands on your hard length. Much bigger than his own, thick as you slide it along his length. Your precum helping to ease the glide, as you wind Wyll up for just a moment more.

"Don't tease me, love. Please?" Wyll's voice like velvet in your ears, low and soft from just waking up. Making you let out a low noise, bending down to drape yourself over him and kiss his chin.

"Anything for you, always." Bending to his words so easily, how could you not? He's so sweet, and you've fallen for the best kind of man. The kind that's pure of heart, and brave when others falter.

Your hand reaches for the oil on the nightstand, dipping three of your fingers to coat them thoroughly. Returning between his legs while on your stomach, and tracing a finger at his entrance. Not as tight after the night you two shared yesterday, but still, you want to make sure he can take you.

With your head on his thigh, you begin to kiss his tip. Your finger slipping into him as you swirl your tongue on his cock head, making Wyll moan and thunk his head against the pillows. Hands fisting the sheets when your finger finds his prostate easily, knowing the mans body just as well as your own. Sucking only on his tip as you prep him thoroughly, driving him wild as you work him up to the brink. Only to be cruel and pull away, making his eyes fly open as he pants.

"Yes, yes. I'm quite the tease, but you'd rather cum while I'm in you, yes?" Your smile widens when he nods, his playful glare becoming wanting as your tip breaches him. Sliding in so easily it leaves you both breathless, making you lean down to drape yourself over him once more. Wrapping your arms around him as he wraps his arms and legs around you, the angle making him shiver as your cock nestles right against his prostate.

When he's ready, giving you a nod to move. It doesn't take long for the both of you to lose yourselves in the feeling. Lips meeting as you stay wrapped up in each other's embrace, hips rolling your length into him so well.

It doesn't help that Wyll is a vision in the soft morning light, he always is, but in this moment his skin glows beautifully. The streams of sunlight coming in through the curtains, making the beads of sweat forming on his body shine. He's perfect, and all yours.

Every thrust into him you can hear the breathy moans in your ear when you pull away from his lips to kiss at his neck, the soft hums when a you thrust deeply and grind a little. The breathless gasps when you nip at his jaw and perfectly time a thrust just right. Your slick bodies pressed against each other drives him wild, his cock perfectly sandwiched between you both. Driving him further and further to the edge.

You make sure he cums before you, shivering as he does so. Clenching around your length desperately, making you thrust twice more before flooding his walls. Panting against his neck as you both slowly come down from your highs, lips meeting once more.

"Stay here, I'll get you clean and fed, my dear heart." You mumble, pressing your foreheads together. Eyes closed but still you can feel the way he smiles softly, squeezing you once before letting his arms and legs fall back to the bed. The both of you groaning as you slide out of him as slow as you can, missing each other being so close together already.

You wet a rag with warm water, cleaning away the sweat from his face and body. Before gently cleaning away the mess on his happy trail and stomach, then the mess between his thighs. Murmuring soft praise at how he did so well, how gorgeous he is, how much you love him. His eyes closed in content as he lets your words wash over him, practically boneless against the bed as you take such good care of him.

You even move him to the other side of the bed, getting him to lay on the non sweaty part before you cover him with a blanket. Pressing a kiss to his temple before leaving to make you both breakfast. Something simple and easy, enough to fuel you both up and start your day.

And if it fuels you both up enough for another round, well. Who could blame you both?

[imgayforgaystuff]

Bound to Fall in Love

Angel/Demon! 141 x reader

Tags: kidnapping, sacrifices, religious references, reader is too angry to die, reader commits murder lol, canon typical violence??, reader gets a kissy on the forehead, a tad crack-ish

Inclusivity tags: reader is referred to w he/him and they/them pronouns, no bodily description, no y/n

A/n: call my brain an apple w all the worms it's got. This was just a blurb at first, but I made room in there for me to potentially make it into... something I guess.

"Cole, I can't fucking focus while they're just... staring at us like that."

"Ignore it, Bess. We have to finish these candles."

You wish a bolt of lightening would come down and strike all three of you at once. Or maybe the building spontaneously combusting would be better. Anything, anything, would be better at this moment than watching your boyfriend and best friend work together to light a summoning circle after having tied you up in your sleep.

For a fraction of a second, you wonder if any gods are watching, if any of them would be willing to give you a boon and allow you one last chance to punch both of these betrayers in the face.

"Okay, okay, the book," Bess mutters, going to the pick up her ritual book from the coffee table you bought. Honestly, if they were going to try to sacrifice you somewhere, your living room is one of the most disrespectful places. Probably right under your bed room.

"I'm sorry," Cole has the gaul to look down at you with a face stricken with grief. Like you're dead already. "We didn't know what else to do. We're both in bad places and you've always been so good to us, so we figured-"

"You better hope this fucking kills me." You grunt. Cole's face melts into a glare. "Because if I'm still breathing, it's going to take more than Satan's intervention to save you from me. I swear on my mother." You jerk forward, making him jump back a step.

"Cole...?" Bess looks at you, then up at Cole with unease. Cole doesn't say anything for a second, sorting his feelings out with a leer before turning to her.

"Read the book."

He drags you into the middle of their pentagram while she sings Latin words off the old book pages. The candles flicker and waver before their flames grow twice as tall. Cole rolls you onto your back and pulls a knife from his back pocket.

"I meant it when I said I'm sorry," Cole mutters. You snarl, but don't jump at him like you want to.

"Yeah? Yeah, you're sorry? Kiss my ass!" You shout over Bess's reading. "If I'm still alive after this, I'm killing you and burying you in the fucking septic tank!" You crane your head up so you can see Bess as well. "Time to get some stuff off my chest, yeah? Bess, I fucked your older brother on the day we graduated."

Her eyes go wide, and she almost stops talking, but Cole shoots her a look that forces her to continue.

"And his friend Carl, the one you had a crush on. And Cole? I never. Fucking. Finished. Ever! You are the only person I've dated who couldn't get me off." Cole's hand's twitch around the blade.

"Are you serious?"

"Does now look like a time to- ack!" You don't get to finish because Bess finished the spell and it was time for your blood to fuel it. The blade buries in your gut, turning this way and that way at measured increments. You just lay there and twitch, breathy gasps falling from your gaping mouth, the pain only throwing fuel to the fires of your rage.

"Please, we call you here! Honor us with your presence!" Bess chants. Cole step away from you when the candles roar and your vision is filled with bright red and orange.

The ground beneath you rumbles. Whispers fill your ears, nothing you can ever imagine understanding, but something tells you they're other summoners. Or maybe little souls of those who were just where you are now, with a people sacrificing them.

It's odd, you think as blood soaks your back, your hair. You thought you'd be more scared in what could be your final moments. But there's only anguish where there should be fear. Only unfettered violent tension felt in your muscles, and a tongue hungering for iron and gore. You're jaw is wound tight enough to shatter your teeth.

If you could think straight, if you weren't about to die, you might be a little concerned. Never have you wanted to sink your fingers into someone's soft bits as much as you do now. This is normal, right? A normal amount of rage for the people taking your life.

Something in your gut tells you it's not.

In the fog of your rage, you missed the appearance of a pair of men above you. They hover, leathery plum colored wings sagging. One wears a leather strap harness across his chest, while the other favors an unbuttoned silk shirt. One of them looks at you curious as the fire dies, steam and copper colored smoke bellowing from his mouth. A thick cigar hangs on his lips.

"You came! There's... two of you?" Cole gawks, then falls to his knees beside Bess. You can't help but scoff at their sniveling forms.

"We did. There are." The one without the cigar brushes back his long mohawk to get a better look at the whimpering humans. They're nothing new to them, just another set of weak little things looking to get something without putting in the work for it.

Well, they might have had to put in the work to capture you, based on the way you still squirm and fight the rope keeping your arms together. So much blood has left you. You are going to die. Yet you spend your last moments doing what most humans find to be a waste of precious time. Being angry. It's interesting.

"What do you want?" The bearded one in the silk shirt grunts out around his cigar. Bess lifts her head just a bit to speak.

"We want to make a trade. A soul for a better life for us."

There's a moment of silence. You blink your heavy lids, growing too tired to do much else anymore. Both demons look back at you, then to the kneeling humans.

"They're not dead." They say at the same time.

Bess and Cole stiffen and finally chance a glance at you. You're bleeding, a glassy look to your eye and a smile on your face, but you're not dead.

"See, Bess?" You cough up blood only to swallow it back down, "what did I tell you? The cunt can't make me come and can't... can't even make me go."

The mohawked devil pops a wicked smile, not even hiding it from his would-be contractors.

Cole fumes. "I can finish the job. Fuck, am I going to finish the job." He stands, moving to step into the circle only to yelp, the invisible border around the summoning circle becoming visible if only to shock Cole back.

"Not so fast," the bearded one spawns a scroll in his hand. He's eyes glow a molten orange as he scans it. "Section 1, clause 3, part 19 states: executioner(s) must sacrifice one(1) human soul to contractee(s)... Let's see... Here it is: Sacrificee(s) must be dead upon arrival so that proper collection can be done. If sacrificee(s) is still soul bond upon arrival, then they are made the true contractor and all work will be conducted with them."

"In other words," the mohawked one grinned, "you should have went for the heart." He taps at his chest.

"Or the neck." The other devil offers.

"Or that vein in they're thigh."

"The sephenous, Johnny."

"Yeah, that."

"No, no!" Cole grabs at his hair as Bess looks like she's about to start crying. You want to laugh. They deserve the despair. They deserve the horror in their mistake. They were going to kill you!

"That means," the devils lean back to look at you. "You're our contractor. You get two requests at the price of one, human. I suggest one of those requests includes healing you." He flicks the ashes of his cigar on your leg. You don't even have to think of what you want most right now.

"I want you to untie me." You roll on your side. They wait for the rest. Cole and Bess look like they're going to shit themselves from the pale faced looks of terror they give you. Your eyes narrow. "And a hammer. A old fashioned iron and wood handled hammer."

Another beat of silence before the infernals bend over in laughter. The room shacks, sulfuric smoke pouring from their mouths to funk up the room. Cole tries to cox Bess to her feet while they're distracted. Their feet can't move though. It's like they're glued in placed and no amount of pulling and tugging could get them loose. Shame.

"Yer a funny one, love. I'll love having your soul for a few eternities." The one in leather floats over you, tilting his head this way and that way to get a good look at you. You settle him with a neutral look. "My name is Johnny. You sure that's what you want? I think you've only got a few minutes left in you."

"Then let's hurry this up a little, huh?"

"Ooh, you heard 'em." The cigared one snickers and snaps his claws. Two contracts appear in front of your face, both written in a language you can hardly comprehend. A pen appeared in front of your mouth. "Sign on the dotted line please."

You take the quill in your mouth, dip it in the blood beneath you.

"Rah 'ere?"

"Mhm."

You lean forward to dot the paper with your sloppy signature, but bizarrely enough, it seems like the powers that be have decided that they haven't made enough appearances. The floor trembles, and you worry about your poor infrastructure for a fraction of a second, when a set of gold doors spawn right behind you. You roll back onto your back to intake everything. You swear you're hallucinating when a pair of white winged angels step out, the clouded blue of heaven at their back.

"Hello?" You greet stupidly. You must be losing your mind, right? What the fuck is happening.

"Do not sign a thing." The bronzen angel instructs. "Human, we are here as messengers. God sees great things for you in your ascension. Please do not squander that to these demons." He shoots a sharp look at the demonic pair. The angel's counterpart wears a white cloak, obscuring all but his glowing golden eyes. You half expect him to sing "Be not afraid." despite you actively shitting bricks.

Oddly enough, their appearence seems to have some sort of healing property. Your lethargy starts to clear and the blade in your gut starts to get pushed out. Nothing hurts anymore.

"Oh, so we've got a big soul on our hands here, huh?" Johnny smirks. "Price, what's the plan?"

Price the devil throws his cigar to the ground and crushes it.

"Do what we do best. Bargain."

"Don't play with us, Price." The shrouded angel grunts. He's got a mind piercing voice that's got your head ringing, and you swear it echoes despite the room being well furnished. "We can provide them with just as much, if not more, at no cost of their soul." Those gold orbs land on you. "All we ask for is your faith."

"Jesus fucking Christ!" You tug at your bonds with renewed vigor. The angels wince at the mention of their Lord, but only watch as you force yourself upright. "I could not give a rat's ass who gets what! How about this? First one to get me free and a hammer in hand gets my loyalty."

There's two resounding snaps from either side of you. The ropes disappear, a hammer is in your left and right hand. You don't think deeper on what that implies. You finally stand, dropping the hammer in your nondominant hand, and march over to the two people you thought you could trust. They kneel now, seemingly ready to beg for their souls.

"Come on, don't look scared now." You drop your hands on your hips. "What happened to you finishing the job?"

"I didn't want-"

"Say it with your chest." You poke his breast plate with the iron hammer head.

"I didn't want it to come to this!" Cole yells. The divine audience doesn't say anything about it. They watch you curiously as you bounce the hammer in hand. Your soul is visible to them. What should be a glowing ball of light is a red and white morning star, all sharp edges and pulsing like a heart. Your soul will certainly not end up with the others, that much is true.

"I just... I couldn't keep up with you! Your life style, the way you act, your job. I never left good enough. Bess expressed the same thing and we just... clicked. We would have just left, but we could have never lived without struggling, so we just..." He swallows. You can't look at him anymore, hands clenching at what he says next. "The book called for someone we cared for."

''That supposed to make me feel better?" You tilt your head. Cole winces, eyes falling on your feet. You look to Bess. "Thought you were better than this. You were going to kill me. Because what, I was happy? I loved both of you, you could have just talked to me."

"We're sorry! What more do you want?" Bess sobs. You straighten up, bouncing the hammer on your hip, acting like you next action is something to deliberate. You already know what they deserve, and a flash of sadness bubbles in your chest, but it quickly passes as a hot, searing emotion burns a hole into what little hesitation you had left.

"Reckon I want your souls after all the shit you've caused." You grin before swinging the hammer back and caving in Cole's chest.

"Fuck..." is all you can say after everything is done. Cole and Bess lay in a bloody heep, all recognizable features destroyed and crushed. You pant, hands trembling and nothing but white noise and static crunching around in your head. You just killed your best friend and boyfriend. For some reason, you've never felt so light.

Someone's whistle gets followed by a clap.

"Impressive. Done that before?" Johnny chuckles. He floats closer, hand running down your back as he moves past and pokes around the pulped organs. "Shite, did them right in. Can't tell which is which."

"I've never-" you start to answer, but hands are clapped onto your shoulders, shocking you into silence.

"Well, that was a good place to start, lad. Your swings were a bit sloppy, but we can fix that." Price squeezes at your trapezius, massaging the stiffness out of them. A throat clears, and Price sighs like he forgot there was other company.

"We aren't finished. The human is our ward now, Price." The uncloaked angel snaps his finger, pulling you from Price and making you spawn between the two angels. The bronzen angel smiles down at you with teeth so white you could damn near see your reflection.

"There you are. It's nicer to have you close. My friend here is Simon and I'm-"

"Come on, Kyle, you know he's ours!" Johnny spits, his wings flaring out. "We gave him the hammer first, so piss off."

"Uh...huh." Kyle's smile falls. "I think you're a bit mistaken. Look, after executing the human's request, I have his name here." A stone slab appears in front of your face. It's smells like sunshine and warm grass. What the fuck. "His pledge to the Lord has been set and his soul already has a place next to Their throne."

"Right, right, like we don't have documentation neither." Johnny huffs. The stone disappears as a scroll appears next to the devil. The smell of sulfur and smoke wafts over to you. "His name is right there, pretty boy. Getting yer fuckin' lookers on."

Kyle ignores the rude tone and does pull out a pair of reading glasses to go over the scroll. You stand there in the silence, a little too scared to speak up. What could you do anyway? In a blind anger, you didn't really have the mind to think any of this out. Angels and devils are fighting over you because you'd stupid ass was too blood hungry to think past murder. All that can be done is for them to figure this out amongst themselves, and for you to wait for the sentencing. Heaven, or Hell?

"...Simon." Kyle slowly pulls his glasses off. "This is legit. His soul is promised to all of us."

You glance up at Simon, the scary motherfucker. He blinks. Once. Twice. Then pinches the bridge of his nose with a hagard sigh.

"Shit."

That's not good.

Johnny laughs, Price grinning like a dog with a bone. Kyle marches over to you, patting your shoulders with an awkward smile. His demeanor reminds you of the way your mom acted when she said she was going to divorce your dad. And all you can think is "Not this again." Are you going to be spending your afterlife going between heaven and hell forever? Does God get weekends because Their day is Sunday or whatever?

"We need to go and talk this over with some superiors. We'll clean this up," Kyle snaps and the gore is gone, so is the ritual circle and candles. "And we'll get back to you in the morning." He places a feather light kiss on your forehead, and suddenly you're squeaky clean and in the softest set of pajamas you've ever worn. "Stay safe while we're gone and don't allow these two to influence you. Get some rest."

"Blah, blah, blah," Johnny mocks from the sidelines. Price tilts his head, and there's nothing but amusement behind those eyes. Yeah, this is exactly like your parents divorce.

"O-okay? I mean, I'll try." You shrug.

Simon nods. "That's all you can do." He steps back into the golden doorway and Kyle falls in stride. You make some distance, and with a final wave from a white toothed angel, the doors shut with a slam that shakes the house's foundation.

"Just you and us now, stud."

You turn with a comedic slowness to the devils. Price chuffs and floats forward. His assess you, takes you in in all your fluffy white pajama glory, and it seems he finds what he wants when he nods.

"Guess we've got to talk with top brass to see what's going on ourselves. Pity we couldn't stick around longer." The devil's eyes never meet yours, staying glued to various parts of your face. They hop from ears, to your eyebrows, down to your lips. Christ on a bike, is it getting hot in here? His blue, glowing cerulean eyes appear to flash with something.

"Shite, yer right." Johnny groans. "I hate going down there."

"Suck it up, love. You know how I feel about sharing." Price drops his interest in you like an old toy and takes Johnny close by his waist. You watch with a lead poisoned stare as their noses touch intimately, words you can't hear being exchanged. It's kinda of awkward to just stand there and watch but your brain isn't really functioning well enough to tell you to stop.

"Hey, stud." You blink, refocusing on the pair. Johnny seems to have climbed his partner, his legs on his waist and arms around his neck. Price makes busy opening a portal to hell in your livingroom with one hand, supporting Johnny under his ass with the other. "Sit pretty, yeah? 'll be back before those two arseholes, promise."

"Right... yeah." You nod. "Uh, be safe?"

"Be safe, he says." Price mutters. "Cute." Johnny waves until Price steps through the infernal hole and falls from view. The portal closes right behind him so you'd have no hopes of seeing anything but the red hue of smog and dust.

And here you are. A little dazed, a little sad, probably holding back a break down from the last hour of events. But you're alive and you're healed. There's no blood to clean, you're in comfortable pajamas. Could probably sleep right now if your brain would stop for a minute, but it doesn't look like that's in the plans.

So you look for something to do. Cole and Bess and moved around all your furniture to make the summoning circle. Guess you can start there, right?

[imgayforgaystuff]

Imagining Ghost being so soft and sweet after you finally get through to him, like he just absolutely melts wherever you are because you make him feel so safe. Like you just have the most strongest presence, commanding fear and respect from people. Never turning that energy to the boys, or him, always so kind and warm.

Sfw-ish but minors, fem aligned, no age in bios, no pronouns in bio. Leave me alone do not interact please and thank you.

And you aren't even this big hulking man, but people just know not to mess with you. Something about you screaming dangerous to the instinctive parts of a humans brain.

The way you can raze through enemies, heaving them despite sometimes being smaller. The way your eyes have stopped even the biggest brutes in their tracks, it makes Simon melt. Makes him know you are safe to be weak around because of how protective you are of the team.

Even in non combat settings, you are so protective despite knowing they can handle themselves. Sliding a protective arm around Soap's waist when some guy tries to pick a fight with him, glaring the man down into submission. Getting in between Gaz and a man who seems too pushy for your liking, too close to Gaz's personal space so you physically crowd that man back until he's shaking and stammering an apology. Putting a hand on Price's lower back and leading him away when someone keeps touching his shoulders, knowing Price hates it when people physically flirt, and once Price is safe you're turning around and grabbing that person's shoulders to throw them out the pub yourself.

But when you protected Simon? It took all his power not to ask to be ravished by you, or- God- held by you as he sleeps or just- anything- you'd be willing to give that sends the same feeling of butterflies in his stomach.

It had been when some prick had tried to pick a fight with Soap, already having been glared down by you into fucking off. But Simon had been a bit farther away from the rest of you, still nearby but wanting to sit at the bar instead of the table. The same prick walking up to him and starting to blabber a blistering comment towards him that has him standing up to use his height and build, but the fool keeps going. Clearly wanting and gearing up for a fight.

And Simon? Sure he was retorting back, leaning in and getting ready for a fight too because fuck does he want some stupid little fucker to try him today. Won't even hurt the bastard too much, just wants to have him flat on his back and scamper away after being humiliated.

But it's you who treats him like Soap, wrapping your arms around his waist and pulling him back with no effort. Despite the fact he was putting his whole weight into leaning forward and standing firmly on his feet, balanced so he can't be pushed back. But you lifted him like he weighed nothing, putting him behind you and practically snarling in that man's face.

He doesn't know what you said that somehow intimidated the man better than him, but the prick scampers away and out of the pub. Your face set in stone before melting away when you look at him and smile-

Suddenly he got it.

Why the others tend to duck their heads shyly when you're around, why they seem to linger around you or always seek you out in the room. Soap who tends to come up to your side, brushing your shoulders with his. Gaz who tends to make jokes and slap your shoulder or chest when he laughs. Price who's a bit more subtle as his eyes stray to look over at you, but you're so oblivious to the way the three of them practically stumble after you like fawns.

He suddenly gets it.

Because you're protecting him so fiercely, turning to him with a smile reserved only for him and the boys. Has his knees wobbling as his thighs squeeze together, his eyes seeking out the others only to see this smugness in their eyes. Knowing he's now just as screwed as them, can't make fun of them anymore for being so needy.

And turns out, Simon is even needier than Soap and Gaz on their worst days. Practically calling you into his room with his mask off, looking at you with his big brown eyes while you laugh affectionately. Mumbling how you thought he needed you for work, turns out he just wants to lay between your legs with his head on your stomach. Having you ramble or read something to him while lightly scratching his scalp.

Then there's one day, where he's just not having a good day. He's aggravated, movements choppy, not even making a small joke here and there. You don't even hesitate to grab his hand, not even Soap touches him during these moments, and pull him onto your lap.

And at first he's stunned. You're not as big as him, not even close! But you've got him sitting on your lap, maneuvering him to make him more comfortable and then looking at him with an expression too soft for someone like him.

He breaks apart so easily. Rambling about what's upset him, pouring all the emotions he's been feeling build up inside his chest. Feeling your encouraging hands on his back, him straddling you to make it easier to have a face-to-face conversation. His hands on your shoulders as he talks and talks, getting all of his thoughts out.

It isn't until he's hunched over, sliding down just enough on your lap to bury his face in your neck that he stops babbling. Your hand on the back of his masked head, the other smoothing across his shoulder, that he finally hears your whispered words.

He fucking melts when he hears you call him sweetheart, sweet boy, lovely, dear, everything under the sun. Telling him he did so good verbalizing everything, that you're so proud he told you how he feels. And God, it makes him whine and snuggle closer to you.

He's so cooked, and so are the others, but Simon? Yeah, it's so over for him.

[imgayforgaystuff]

Thinking about Digger down on all four, ass in the air head buried in the pillow, with your big hands clamping down onto his fat ass cheeks, pressing down so hard you’re sure you’re leaving imprints on his skin, while painstakingly slowly pushing your cockhead past his puckered rim, watching the way his hole eagerly clenches down on your dick

Curses and complaints escape Digger lips with him telling you he can take it, no need to be gently with him, to just hurry up, please!

You know he absolutely hates this, always one to rush the prep, barley letting you slide a finger in to loosen the tight ring of muscles before he’s sinking down on your dick.

But you love taking your time with him, love to see how responsive he can be, love the grunts and groans that escape his lips as you slowly burry yourself deeper inside him, love the way he’s trying to buck his hips, ass turning red under your bruising grip, love the silence that falls over the room as you finally bottom out, thighs flush with his, sack practically kissing his ass.

But most importantly you love to hear the demanding tone bleed out of his voice, body visibly shaking under your touch while white knuckling the headboard.

“Want me to move?” You say with a smile on your face.

Digger’s voice sounds breathy and stained when he finally musters the strength to say“Please,”.

[imgayforgaystuff]

Leave a mark

MINORS DNI

Monster!John "Soap" Mactavish (with Poly Monster!141 at the end) x Male Reader

Cw: it starts off with Soap but the rest r mentioned and written but not as much as soap, marking with markers, nothing else I believe lmk

Silly thought but like imagine a monster reader who has crazy fast regeneration. Like deep cuts heal in seconds. Maybe you're a ghoul who just has crazy regen, or something like that.

Anyways,

Wouldn't a relationship between Soap, who loves leaving bites and see the aftermath due to his instincts as a werewolf and you who literally heals in seconds.

He loves getting fucked by you, but everytime he leaves a bit unsatisfied. It's not because you can't make him cum or anything, hell you can pull multiple orgasms from the guy and you have.

It's just that he can't leave satisfied knowing that he left a mark on you. He has bit you so much but the marks just won't stay. With the other members he can clearly see the marks he left on their neck and shoulders, even with Price who due to his dragon blood heals faster but the marks still stay for a day or two.

So everytime you two fuck, even if his ass if filled to the brim and his balls are empty he still whines because he can't leave his mark on you. You're a member of the 141, his pack, so it pains him that he can't put a claim on you like he has with the others.

So one day you get a bit creative.

One night in your room where he's riding on your cock, bouncing up and down while you lay your back on the bed, your hands gripping his hips and slamming him down on you as you cum. He leans down and bites as hard as he can on you as the feeling of you filling him up makes him cum. Pulling away and only being able to whine because he can't even admire his mark before it fades away.

"Aw, is puppy unsatisfied?" You tease and chuckle. And before he could insist that he was, you reached to the bedside table and picked up a red permanent marker, "why don't you mark me with this instead?" You say handing him the marker.

He huffs out a laugh at your little solution, but it's the best you got since you can't really make yourself regenerate slower. So he indulges, testing the marker on the back of your hand, the ink incredibly opaque so it stands out against your skin. Then he draws a bite mark at your neck then adds "Soap's Claim" in big letters, covering the whole left side of your neck.

He leans back, the bright red against your skin and the obvious letters, he finally sighs a sigh of relief.

It doesn't go unnoticed as well (just how he likes it)

The other members of the task force noticing Soap's eyes seem a bit brighter and his tail has been swaying peacefully the whole day. And that's where you enter, neck bare for everyone to see (it's the least you can do) Soap grins, happy to finally be able to show off his claim on you.

And now they want to have their names on your body too.

It's all color coordinated too now, Price who loves to write across your shoulder blades, with words like "Price's hoard" or just a simple "Price" with a heart next to it, it's simple but huge.

Gaz with a bright blue marker who likes to do it on your lower back (because he can also rest his head on your ass) writing something like "Gaz was here" and likes to draw wings on you. (Wing themed tramp stamp with 141 between the wings anyone?)

And Ghost with either white or black who loves to mark your chest, either a simple "ghost" or "Simon Riley" on each pec. Also likes to draw a ghost doodle on top of your heart.

And if you five fuck together, you aren't the only one who ends up having ink on you, but you'd have the most. And when you wake up to find a big arrow pointing to your dick and ass that says "Property of 141" written in multiple colors, you'd wish you could show it off.

[imgayforgaystuff]

mdni 18+ not proof read :) also requests are open if you wanna send anything in

currently thinking about eating price out for the first time. price is an older guy, he grew up in a time where his pleasure rarely came first and asking for something like that was basically unheard of.

so, you can only imagine his surprise when you ask, practically beg him to let you eat him out. his eyes go wide and his ears to bright red, giving away how flustered he is at the ask. he starts stuttering, trying to gather his thoughts. mind racing because what do you mean you want to eat him out. he's supposed to be the one giving, not receiving.

you see his obvious hesitance and decide to let him think about it. and boy does he think. it's all that plagues his mind. it takes him slower than usual to finish his paperwork or sometimes you'll catch him staring at nothing, eyes basically glazing over at the thought.

his last straw is when he has a wet dream. he wakes up with his boxers damp and he can feel his cli throbbing and he decides that he's done enough thinking and obviously he likes the idea of you eating him out.

he doesn't say anything until the next day. a rare day that he doesn't have much to do. he sits you down and tells you that he'd like you to eat him out. he's nervous, almost embarrassed at the thought of admitting it, while you're basically shaking in his seat from anticipation and excitement.

you take him up to your shared bedroom before laying him down. making sure to makeout a little before moving down to his neck and chest, giving attention to each nipple and his faded surgery scars before moving down even lower. slowly kissing down his stomach, he stops you be you can't get to his wet drenched pussy.

you stop looking at him to see whats wrong only to see that he has his face buried into his hands. when you ask what's wrong all you can hear is muffled words. you ask him again, pinching his hip area as a warning.

"what if you don't, y'know... like it?" he mumbles. his ears, again flushing because he's flustered. you crawl back up and give him a peck before reassuring,

"i promise you, that i will enjoy this," you respond before grinding your already hard cock down against him, "you feel that hmm? you've already got me hard and I haven't gotten my mouth on you. now you lay there and let me take all those thoughts out your pretty little head".

you crawl back down in between his thighs before settling in. you groan when you see his wetness coating his pussy and inner thighs. you teasingly rub to fingers up and down his folds, smirking when he lets out a little line, before taking those two fingers into spreading his lips apart.

as soon as you see his hole clench around nothing, you dive in, licking from his hole to his clit before gently sucking. letting out a moan at the same time price's back arches from the bed. you quickly place your hands on hips ready to hold him down if needed.

you alternate between fucking him with your tongue, just licking quick swipes over hos entire pussy, and sucking on his clit. and when you finally decide to focus on his clit while thrusting in two fingers and curlin-

oh. price swears he's in heaven.

when you feel him clench down you speed up, making sure to hit that spot just right. and price can feel the pressure building, except this feels a bit different. but he can barely think, barely breathe with how you're fucking him.

the best he can do is try to buck and squirm away to try to get you off of him, but you're adamant, persistent. even through all the attempts to get away you don't let him. too addicted to him. the way he tastes, the way he smells, the way he feels.

he cums hard. he isn't able to tell you but you can feel it. the spurt of liquid coming out and drenching your chin and chest. and you make sure that you keep fingering through his orgasm and making sure it lasts as long as possible.

when price comes down from his high he realizes that you haven't stopped. and he whines and whimpers, the pleasure - bordaring on pain - has him twitching. he weakly pushes at your shoulder but it only motivates you to pull him closer and keep going.

when price looks down and sees you hooded and glazed over eyes, it's as if you're addicted to the essence of him. it's only then when price realizes how long of a night he's in for.

[imgayforgaystuff]

https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZT8okvv33/

Think he calls it his boomerang? (Especially if it has a little curve to it) Who said that 🤨

Anyways... Please ignore how horny my asks have been tonight.... It's very late 😋

-🐧

Thinking about how Digger has a humiliation kink, yet another thing he discovers accidentally. You’d been messing around in bed, kissing and feeling up each other, when Digger mentioned how you got his boomerang excited.

He’d thought you’d laugh it off or maybe scoff and roll your eyes at his words, but instead you had retorted back, mentioning something about his little boomerang.

The word had supringly stuck with him. Now don’t get it wrong he wasn’t offended by any means. Digger knew that he was big. It didn’t take much to see it. However something about you downplaying his size had him hot and bothered. And he wasn’t shy to let you know, either by his words or the grunts and groans rolling off of his tongue, hard cock pressing up against your thigh.

It doesn’t take much before you have him straddling your waist, surprisingly strong thighs working themselves up and down your length and his big cock uselessy rubbing against his stomach, smearing pre cum all over it.

Maybe you’d be so cruel to flick your finger against his tip, a faux look of disappointment on your face as you spoke about his cock as if it were non existent.

Or maybe you’d remind him of the size he’s got and how his big cock is practically useless because he’s such a slut.

Whatever you say has cries of pleasure, tumbling past his lips, with Digger practically bouncing on your dick, before tipping over the edge, ropes of cum painting both your abdomens.

It doesn’t take much before he’s realigning your cockhead up with his rim,and sinking down on your dick, his own cock fully hard, and with Digger eagerly awaiting to hear whatever you’ll say to him.

[imgayforgaystuff]

Brb, putting Digger in a Boomerang-shaped chastity cage to boost that humiliation kink he's just discovered

-💀

Digger would absolutely love the idea at first, all hot and bothered at the thought of his big fat cock trapped in a cock cage, unable to touch himself, or just wearing it while out and about in public, maybe even opting to go without boxers just so the little contraption is clearly shown through his prison uniform, proudly smiling at anyone looking down at his crotch.

However as soon as it’s actually on and he’s unable to touch his dick, he’s over this little fantasy, especially when you go out your way to tease him, groping and rubbing up against him til he’s begging and pleading for you to take the cage off of him, speaking to him in the way that usually has blood rushing down to his dick, telling him how a slut like him shouldn’t mind that his cock is locked up, he doesn’t even know how to use that thing at all, riling him up so much til there’s nothing left to do but show him mercy by pounding into his ass and through your laughter asking him how a greedy slut like him fails to reach his orgasm, knowing fully well it’s because of the little mechanism.

He’d most likely try to find ways to break out of it, getting so frustrated he sneaks away, pants pulled down his legs and thighs parted; ready to take any weapon at hand to the cock cage and if you were to catch him in the act he wouldn’t even care, he’d just smile at you, face flushed from exhaustion, body drenched in sweat, cock finally free, fully hard and weeping and eagerly waiting for you to punish him