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[yawnderu]

ANGEL — John Price x Reader x Simon Riley

WC: 6,048 | Part I

Deep down, you knew Simon's way of telling you it's over between you was the moment he gave you his captain's number. Every single message you left Simon was left unanswered, not even opened most of the time, leaving you hoping that perhaps he was simply busy with his missions.

His deployments are oftentimes stressful from what you saw every time he came back home to you, yet you stopped convincing yourself everything was alright after 7 weeks of no contact. Simon Riley is not a coward— not unless it comes to feelings. You're too good for someone like him, someone who could drop dead at any moment, whose only achievements come from killing, forever tainting his hands with blood he can't seem to wash off no matter how many long showers he takes.

He rationalized for months, thought about it— thought about leaving you, too. Yet that lost puppy look of pure trust you gave him every single time he fucked into you, pretty moans leaving your parted lips and soft hands exploring his clothed body, desperately wanting to feel his bare skin against yours, something he never had the heart to give you. Too tainted, too scarred, too ugly. So like a broken man wanting to keep you safe, he did the best with what he had, leaving his captain's number on your night table the moment he was done cumming.

Over 2 months later, Simon still remembers the feeling of your warm skin beneath his lips, the look of pure vulnerability and love plastered on your face, so angelic and pretty, a sheer contrast to the nervousness on his, despite how natural it was to treat you with a tenderness he's never had with anyone in his entire life.

“He fell from a helicopter?” Crinkled eyes meet yours from across the table, taking a sip of his drink before letting out a dry chuckle, nodding his head.

“Aye, hangin' from a bloody rope. Had me scared, thinkin' I lost my Sergeant.” John said with a grin, his gaze softening at the way you were listening so intently, your full attention on him no matter how boring he thought his stories were.

“Is he scared of getting into helicopters again?” You lean a bit closer to him, your chin resting on your hand as you look up at him. From this angle, you're able to admire John's features from up-close. Every single grey hair adorning his beard, his crow's feet, the tiny beauty mark on his nose, the tiny spots on his face, likely gotten from spending a long time under the sun as a soldier from a young age.

“Of course. Took him a while to trust our pilots again, now he always double checks his gear's on right.” Price always pays attention to detail, the way your pupils dilate the longer you stare at him don't go unnoticed in the slightest. He asks a passing waitress for a check, not even giving you a second to offer to pay for your half before his card is already in her hands, going away to charge him for the dinner and drinks.

“And how's… what was his name again? Soap?” He smirks at the mild confusion when using Johnny's callsign, likely assuming it's simply a sex innuendo.

“Soap, yeah. He's a good kid, kind o' like the son I never had.” That gets your attention, looking away for a second to hold back a small smirk before looking back up at him, eyebrows raised.

“You don't have children?” That earns a small chuckle out of him, shaking his head at the question. He gave the waitress a small smile as she came back with his card, pocketing it and getting up from his chair, offering his arm up to you. There's no hesitation as you hook your arm with his, walking to his car.

“Never had girlfriends after joining the SAS. Became a captain at a young age, too.” He looks down at you as you walk, admiring your pretty features, secretly wondering how Simon could have fucked up that badly— how he let such a lovely and sweet girl go. He opens the car door for you, even going as far as to help you put on your seatbelt, letting you have a whiff at his woody cologne, the smell of smoke from cigars mixing in.

“What about you? Any children?” He asks teasingly, shooting you a playful grin before starting the car, blue eyes fully focused on the road. Unlike Simon, Price knows how to drive well, making you feel safe while on the road.

“Hell no. I've been… thinking about it, but men my age were never interested in that.” Even if he was much older, Simon was never even an option. Too emotionally unavailable, too fucked up to even consider having children.

“Part of the reason I like older men.” Your voice is smooth and even, a sheer contrast to the slight knot of nervousness tightening in your stomach, only coming undone when you hear his amused laugh.

Price's calloused palm rests on the gear shift before daring to move it over to your thigh, running up and done slowly, trying to heat up your cold skin rather than doing it to be a pervert, yet your body still reacts to his touch, warmth pooling on your lower stomach.

“Really, sweetheart?” Price isn't stupid in the slightest, yet unlike Simon, his actions aren't malicious. He simply wants to see you squirm, finding pure amusement in the laugh you both share and the playful slap you give to his arm.

“Stop using your charm on me.” You scold jokingly, unable to hide the big grin taking over your pretty face.

“I'm charming now, eh?” His grip tightens on your inner thigh, applying just enough pressure to tease you.

“According to Simon, you always have.” That makes one of his thick eyebrows raise questioningly, his lips pulling into an amused smile.

“I've known him for a long time, y'know? Back when we I was an LT.” He can't help but allow his mind to go back into the past as he drives, images of the eager Simon Riley, a broken man who simply wanted to change the world, who always helped without even asking for much in return.

“Has be always been… like that?” You ask after a few seconds of silence, allowing yourself to be the cat curiosity killed.

“No.” The Simon Riley he met was not similar to Ghost in the slightest.

“He was 'round 19 when I met him. Better than any recruits I've seen.” Yet still teased by his mates for being an apprentice butcher in the past, for being so rigid and basing his entire life on discipline, unlike the many other young soldiers who have since passed.

“I bet. He has that certain look on him, you know? The eyes. I wouldn't want to mess with him.” Price lets out a dry chuckle, nodding his head in agreement. Part of him is glad that he's been working with Simon because it seems that to know more about you, he needs to know about Simon as well.

“We're here, doll.” He parks the car, getting out of his seat and opening the door for you, his calloused hand resting on your lower back, guiding you to your house. You can feel the warmth from his hand spreading all over your body, soothing rubs up and down your back as you walk.

“Would you like a cuppa?” Mirth dances in his eyes at the audacity, already knowing your intentions, and yet.

“Of course.” Price follows after you, part of him growing excited by whatever you have in mind. Your slightly shaky hands fiddle with the keys before you're able to open the door, secretly thankful that you cleaned up your mess earlier in the day.

“What tea would you like?” You ask, turning around just in time to see Price finishing the once-over he was giving you.

“This isn't about tea, is it, darlin'?” He asks with a knowing smile, his jacket slipping out of his shoulders now that you're both inside the house. Blown pupils stare back at him, taking your time to admire the strong body hugged by his tight black shirt. You can see his bulging muscles, broad shoulders fully relaxed as he steps forward, towering over you. A monument of sorts when you're small.

“If I'm lucky, I hope not.” Your breathy voice was all Price needed as reassurance. His lips crash against yours, warm hands gripping your waist tight enough for you to feel the warmth spreading all over your lower body. The smell and taste of cigar smoke overwhelms your senses, too enthralled by the feeling of his tongue wrapping around yours, a small moan leaving your lips the moment his hand trails down to your ass, groping you with care, as if you're made of glass.

“How far do you wanna go?” His forehead leans against yours as his blown pupils stare back at you, his chest rising up and down with each breath.

“As far as you want to.” A small yelp leaves your lips when he lifts you in his arms, your legs instantly wrapping around his strong, muscular waist.

“Bedroom's there.” You don't even need to point— Price can see the open door, so enticing and tempting, allowing your small giggle to consume his whole soul like a siren's song. With carefulness that contrasts the brutality he uses as a soldier, Price sets you down in bed, strong arms on each side of your head, caging you in.

Your breaths mingle together as he leans down to kiss you again, warm tongues wrapping around the other, using his knee to spread your legs enough for his burly body to fit, subtly grinding against your clothed cunt.

“Been wantin' to do this for a long while.” Ever since Simon showed him your profile picture on WhatsApp, introducing you as a friend in need. He wouldn't dare confess it to anyone, not with the way his calloused hand rubbed his cock until it almost hurt, using your pretty face as a relief from the stress of war.

“Pretty fuckin' girl.” He praised, dragging a giggle out of you the moment his beard started tickling your neck, gentle kisses planted all over your warm, sensitive skin, his tongue darting past his lips to give your neck a tantalizing lick.

He can feel your hands exploring his strong body, his muscles bulging and tensing up beneath your soft palms. He only breaks apart the moment your hands go to the hem of his shirt, helping you pull it off of his body, the piece of clothing discarded on the floor.

“God…” Your whisper holds nothing but pure admiration, catching hints of his strong, muscular body, dark hair covering most of it. Your hand drifts up to his torso, caressing his surprisingly soft skin, not minding the scars you can feel beneath your hand. Price has been shot, stabbed, tortured, left for dead— his body acting as a keepsake of every mission gone wrong.

His gaze is soft as he stares down at you, holding a tenderness unlike a man like him, so naturally gentle and willing to show it without the walls guarding his heart— unlike Simon. His calloused hand rubs your thigh before drifting up to the hem of your blouse, carefully pushing it up and removing it with your help.

“Pretty girl.” His back bends slightly as his gentle lips now go to your bare stomach, planting a rapid-fire of kisses all over the soft skin, descending with each passing second, lifting your skin up to reveal your clothed cunt.

“I'll take care of you.” And he means every single word. Captain Price is a bad man, a bad man with a high kill-count and multiple war crimes to his name, yet John Price is a different story— caring and loving, so willing to fix something he didn't even break.

His eyes close the moment his lips connect to your mound, tongue darting out to get a taste at all he's been craving the moment he saw you. He lets out a small groan as the taste of your slickness overwhelms his senses, his hands roaming up and down your waist, daring to sneak past your bra, finally getting a good feel at your tits.

John is a starved man. A starved man whose only salvation is you, looking so pretty and sweet, panties wet with a mix of his saliva and your own slick. He's careful and gentle, pulling down your panties with both hands and dropping them on the floor, his breath catching in his throat when his gaze drifts down to your pussy, glistening under the light of your bedroom.

He doesn't waste any time, lowering himself again between your legs, licking a trail from your tight hole, to your swollen clit. Your legs try to close out of instinct, a whiny moan making its way out of your lips at the sensation of his beard against your cunt.

“Open your legs, love.” He whispered, running his thumb over your hard bud.

“Let daddy taste you.” He kisses your inner thigh before diving back in, licking and sucking on your clit, trying his best to make you feel good. Your moans are too pretty, your cunt too sweet, and Price can feel himself starting to lose control. His cock throbbed, his own desire growing stronger by the second, focusing solely on your pleasure.

“That's my good girl.” He whispered against your skin, sliding two thick fingers inside you. You're soaking wet yet still so tight, only making his desire grow, desperately needing to be inside you. Your whiny moans fuel him, his warm tongue flickering against your hardened clit faster and faster, mixing in with his sucking, his thick fingers curling inside your needy cunt.

Your hands run through his short hair, pulling at it softly to release some of the pleasure building in, the familiar knot in your stomach tightening up with each lick. Your chest rises up and down with each long, labored breath, muscles tensing up as the knot in your stomach finally comes undone, pushing his face closer to your cunt as his fingers move in and out, dragging out your orgasm.

He pulls his fingers out of you slowly, his blue eyes connecting with yours as he licks his fingers clean from your cum, your heart thudding loudly inside your chest.

“Fuck me.” That breathy whisper was all he needed, getting up only to slip out of his pants and boxers, his dick standing proudly. Despite being uncircumcised, you can see his dark pink tip, leaking precum like a broken faucet. Now that he's standing, he takes his time to admire your bare body, his blue eyes going to your tits when you take off your bra.

“Tell me if you want me to stop, yeah?” The option is always there, and he wants you to know. His knees sink into the mattress as he supports his body on top of yours with one hand, lining his hard cock with your entrance, pausing for a moment.

“Let me love you.” He whispered hoarsely, slipping into you gently despite his primal instincts telling him otherwise. He lets out a loud groan the moment your tight walls grip his throbbing cock, his face finding shelter on the crook of your neck. A small hiss makes its way out of your lips as your legs wrap on his hips, pushing him closer and deeper, allowing him to finally bottom out.

“Bloody hell— you're so tight.” He moans out, his thrusts growing faster as you get used to his thickness. He looks down at you, his eyes filled with desire and adoration, longing dancing within. John's lips part as he feels your long nails dragging down his back, driving him crazy with pure need.

“I'm close.” He whispers out, his hips ramming against you with increasing urgency, reaching out to caress one of your soft tits. He plants open-mouthed kisses all over your neck and chest, his breath warm against your sweaty skin.

“Cum inside.” John's eyes widen at your words, his dominant nature taking over as his hands go down to grip your hips firmly in place, the overwhelming desire and pleasure clouding his judgement, drowning out any concerns. His thrusts are deep and powerful, making you his with an unyielding force.

As he loses himself in the heat of the moment, John's muscles tense up, the familiar feeling of pure heat pooling up within him, slamming himself as deep inside you as he can before his cock starts throbbing, shooting ropes of cum with each pulse. His breath is heavy as he slowly pulls out of you, his gaze fixated on the mess of mixed fluids that coats your pretty cunt.

“My pretty girl.” He whispers out, burly arms wrapping around your body, pulling you closer to his hairy chest, allowing you to hear his fast-beating heart. His lips are gentle against your forehead, wanting nothing more than to relax with you after the intense love-making. His actions are nothing short of genuinely caring and loving, wanting to give you good aftercare, all thoughts of Simon finally out of your head.

“Want me to run you a bath?” Price asks in a whisper, planting one last kiss on your forehead before looking down, just to see your chest moving up and down slowly, eyes closed and lips slightly parted, pulling you closer to his warm, naked body so you can sleep better, deciding to get some well-deserved rest as well.

The smell of eggs and tea is what you woke up to in the morning, rubbing your eyes with the back of your hand. The feeling of large fabric keeping your body warm makes you look down, just realizing that John put his large shirt on your body when you were sleeping, a small smile pulling at the corners of your lips as you get up from bed, making your way to the kitchen.

“Good mornin'.” John turns around for a second, blue eyes lighting up when he's greeted by a big smile and his shirt dwarfing your body, giving you a small wink before he's back to finishing your breakfast. You take your time to admire him, so naturally handsome and masculine, his hairy, strong body only having his boxers on.

“Thanks, daddy.” You quip teasingly as he hands you the plate, a small squeal leaving your lips when he starts to chase you around the house, shared laughs ringing around.

Dating John is a sheer contrast to any expectations you had when you first got into the relationship. Despite the fact that he's often away during missions, he has scheduled delivers for flowers and your favorite foods, calling with you the moment he's available.

“What are you doin'?” Price asks with a small smirk, his gaze softening the moment his eyes meet yours, your cheek resting on his strong thigh while he was trying to complete a report. His hand goes to your head out of pure muscle memory, giving your scalp a soft massage.

“I like you from this angle.” He lets out a small chuckle, moving his leg to make your position more comfortable as you nuzzle his leg, your chin now resting on it as you adjust your knees on the floor.

“You like me in every angle.” A grin spreads on his face, his calloused hand running down the length of your hair before resting on your back, massaging the muscles tenderly.

“True, but specially from this one.” The cheeky smile you throw his way does nothing other than to distract him further from his report of the latest mission, cupping your cheek to examine your pretty features better under the light of the room, mirth dancing in his blue eyes.

“You're clingier than my shadow.” He teases, leaning forward until his lips meet yours in an affectionate kiss, not bothered by your clinginess in the slightest. He breaks away just to give your forehead a tender kiss, staring down at you lovingly. The look of pure trust and love your eyes hold drags him back to one of the many late night conversations with Simon back at base.

“Y'like her?” Simon finally dares to ask, ignoring the growing pain on his lower stomach at the idea of you dating John, even if it was Simon's idea.

“Do you?” Price quips, already knowing the reply. There's been more than one occasion where he saw Simon stare at your WhatsApp profile picture, even if your number was deleted— he still keeps your messages, using it as an odd way of finding comfort despite the growing self-loathing from hurting you.

“You know I don't do that.” There's hints of regret spilling along Simon's deep voice, his bare fingers drumming on the cup of tea on his hand.

“Do what?” He already knows the answer, and yet.

“Love. 'M gonna get the poor girl killed.” Memories of Christmas haunt him even years later, his mind momentarily taken back to coming home just to find his entire family dead. All that blood, yet all his shattered mind was able to do was laugh even as he held a gun to his mouth.

“She'll be fine, Simon. The girl knows how to handle herself. Hell, I'm getting her a better security system soon, too.” Despite being in a committed relationship with you, John knows Simon well enough to know he still likes you, in his own way. He's seen Simon break down, seen the worst and the best of him, and eventually got to see the way he built himself back up, coming back to the SAS as Ghost.

“Wha'? You want me to date her, too?” Even if he asked it as a joke, Price's silence and the subtle shrug of his shoulders speaks louder than words.

“I know what you've been through, son. Think about it, you mean a lot to the bird.” John empties the rest of his tea down the sink, giving Simon one last pat on the shoulder before walking out of the room, leaving him alone with his thoughts.

“I'll go get it.” John is brought back to reality with the soft knocks on the entrance door, tilting his head up as you plant a kiss on his cheek. You make your way up to the door, your heart beating inside your chest when you look through the peephole, a familiar pair of dead brown eyes staring back. There's slight hesitation as your hand goes to the doorknob, resting there for a few seconds before you decide to open the door.

“Simon?” Despite the dark hoodie over his head, you can tell he hasn't been doing well, his skin looking more pale than usual, dark eyebags making him resemble more a raccoon than a man.

“'M sorry.” He mutters, hands deep inside the pockets of his jacket, lowering his gaze with nothing but pure shame.

“That's it?” Your guarded tone makes a part of him feel proud that you're not a doormat anymore.

“No. I'm sorry for… ignoring you, and for being a cunt.” His gaze finally meets yours. You can see the shame, the regret, and the pain.

“I was scared.” I wish I could tell you I survive out there because I don't want to leave you yet. Your lips part, though you decide to be quiet for now.

“I don't know if I'll ever be able to tell you why this shite happened.” Despite the way his hands are fidgeting inside his pockets, he's trying his best to be as honest as possible while avoiding dumping his trauma on you.

“That's bollocks, mate.” Price's voice almost scares the soul out of you, turning around to shoot him an exasperated look. For a man his size, he moves with surprising quietness. You can feel his burly arms wrap around your lower body, bringing you closer to him.

“Give 'er a proper apology.” Despite the hesitation Simon feels, the space Price left open for him is all he needs. You can feel another pair of arms wrapping around your body, the familiar scent of cheap fags and gun powder hitting your nose, bringing you back to all those nights you shared.

It's an awkward hug, a mess of limbs and warmth that you finally decide to take in, your arms wrapping around Simon's narrow waist, bringing his body closer to you despite the way his muscles tense up at the sudden contact. You can feel him relax with your touch, his cheek resting against the top of your head.

“'M sorry.” He repeats in a whisper, his cold face finding shelter on the warm crook of your neck, the urge to kiss you again growing stronger by the second, though he remains respectful. You can feel John's cock starting to harden against your ass, making you look up and give him a confused look. His hand goes up to grip your jaw softly, his lips crashing against yours as he starts to subtly grind against you, only making the confusion grow.

Simon's hold on your body tightens, the familiar sensation of his lips against your neck drags a small moan out of you, muffled in John's mouth. His tongue wraps around yours, your breathing growing more labored by the second, soft hands curling on Simon's muscular back, barely able to hear the door closing until you decide to break away from the kisses.

“What's going on?” The nervous laugh that leaves your lips is only met by a reassuring look coming from Price, his calloused hand running up and down your side.

“Part o' the apology you deserve, love.” You don't even have time to answer— not when Simon's rough lips meet yours, the kiss nothing but a pure display of love and affection. Even a ghost can be a lovely thing when you want it to be.

You can feel John's calloused hands drift down to the pajama shorts you're wearing, sneaking a few squeezes on your ass before his hand sneaks past your panties, using two of his fingers to feel your wet cunt, spreading your slick all over. His lips are now busy on your pretty neck, licking and sucking freely, not caring about any love bites he leaves— he knows you don't mind either.

You can hear his hard breathing against your tender skin, your tongue dancing with Simon's, hands desperately sneaking under his shirt, groping his hard, defined muscles. You can feel the bulging scar on his ribs, caressing it with extra care just to show him every single part of his heavily scarred body is loved.

“I missed you.” Simon breaks away from the kiss only to whisper that in your ear, his rough hand already going up to your tit, squeezing the soft fat while all you can do is moan, the combined sensations of the strong men touching you does nothing but drive you closer to the edge, your wet walls tightening around John's fingers, forcing you to squeeze Simon's bicep to release some of the tension.

“Fuck, daddy—” Simon's breath hitches at your words despite knowing you're talking to John, his own cock throbbing at the slight whine in your tone. His hands go to your waist, holding you up as your eyes finally shut, your forehead resting on Simon's chest as John's fingers move faster and deeper inside you, lazily rubbing your clit with his thumb. Your knees start to buck, more whiny and louder moans leaving your lips as you cum all over his fingers, nails digging into Simon's arm.

“That's a good girl.” Price praises in a breathy whisper, delicately pulling his fingers out of your pulsating cunt, taking a second to admire the way his fingers glisten with your slick.

“Taste her.” Simon is a man with no shame. No shame at all, making eye contact with you as he starts to suck his captain's fingers, putting them in his mouth just to taste more of your sweet slick. The hungry wolf is reduced to a starving dog, a small groan leaving his lips the moment your taste is all over his tongue.

He pulls John's fingers out of his mouth once he finishes licking them clean, your mouth opening ajar when Simon's lips crash against his, your heart beating loudly inside your chest as you watch them kiss. You can see their tongues dancing together, sharing your sweet taste in a passionate kiss, Simon's grip tightening around your waist.

They break away after a few seconds, looking up just to be met by Simon's cheeky smirk. He pushes you further into the house, fingers intertwining with yours as he walks into the bedroom like he owns the place, yet in reality, it's simply something he's done way more times than he can count.

“Pretty fuckin' girl.” His hold is all but gentle as he lays down in bed, pulling you on his lap, allowing you to feel the way his hard cock bulges on his jeans, calloused hands going to your ass to make you grind against him, whiny moans leaving your lips at the friction against your sensitive cunt.

You can hear a zipper going down behind you, only making the excitement grow at the idea of seeing your boyfriend's bare body again— no matter how many times you've seen it already. Price's knees sink on the mattress, burly arms wrapping around your waist, grabbing one of your hands just to guide it to his hard cock. Your hands wrap around it, starting to rub him up and down slowly until his fingers join yours, speeding up the movement.

“Tell me you wanna fuck him.” His voice is a whispered command, a dominance you've never heard before— and one Simon has heard too many times during missions.

“I wanna fuck Simon.” You confess, your back pressing against John's strong, hairy chest as you jack him off, your soft palm rubbing against his sensitive tip, dragging a small grunt out of him as you smear his precum all over his throbbing cock. His free hand goes to your back, pushing you down against Simon as you let go of his cock with a small whine of protest.

Simon is desperate and needy— that much you can tell by the way he removes his clothes with an eagerness you've never seen before. You take your time to admire his strong body, pale skin tattered by scars, yet looking so alluring. You adjust your position as he tries to remove his pants, exchanging a small laugh at the awkward position you're in.

He looks more relaxed and honest than you've ever seen, his eyes crinkling as you're getting your shorts and panties pulled down by Price, finally resting your naked body on top of his. It's a new change of pace for both of you— Simon doesn't like to give up control, doesn't enjoy being dominated, it's too personal and vulnerable, yet for you? He's willing to try anything.

“Show him how you much you missed him.” John's soft command makes you nod your head, looking over your shoulder just to feel his lips against your back, his hand coming up to your jaw to turn your face back to Simon. Simon's calloused hand goes down to his throbbing, veiny cock, waiting until you lift your hips up to line himself up to your cunt, a low groan leaving his lips as your tight walls wrap around him, your back arching once he bottoms out.

“Fuck, Simon…” Your face rests against the crook of his neck, planting kisses all over his warm skin as he starts to fuck into you, the wet sounds of your sopping cunt and needy moans filling the room.

Simon's eyes are closed, fully taking in the sensation of finally having your naked body on his after so many months apart. His hands explore your body with familiarity, bringing one of your hands up to his face to make you cup his cheek, gentle kisses planted over and over on your thumb.

You're too far gone to notice John coming up from behind you, keeping you against Simon's body while his free hand rubs the lube all over his veiny cock, a small smirk pulling on the corners of his lips at how much you're both enjoying each other. You're dragged back to reality when you feel his tip pressing against your tight cunt, already full with Simon's cock.

“It's not going to—” Price pacifies you with another kiss on your bare, sweaty back, slowly pushing in.

“I'll make it fit.” He reassures, a deep moan leaving his lips once he manages to slip his thick tip inside you, giving you time to adjust to the sensation before slowly pushing the rest of his cock inside you, pausing once he bottoms out to give you a well-deserved break.

“Fuckin' hell.” Simon groans out, his face scrunching up at how much tighter your cunt feels now that you have two cocks inside you. His short nails lightly dig into your skin, already feeling so close to the edge despite the fact you're just getting started.

You let out a short exhale once they both start moving, cocks rubbing together inside your tight walls, the sensation of being stretched this much starting to feel better by the second, every single nerve inside your cunt being stimulated. You pull Simon for another kiss, feeling his hand coming up to the back of your head just to pull you closer, wanting to feel more of your tiny tongue licking his.

You're a mess of limbs— sweaty bodies colliding, feeling their muscles tightening up around your soft, smaller body. Simon's moans are muffled by your lips, not letting you pull away from the kiss in slight embarrassment at letting you hear the neediness seeping out of his tone.

Their hips move in a relentless rhythm, each thrust sending waves of pleasure coursing through your veins, forcing your back to arch, only giving them a better angle to fuck into you. Price's hands go up to your soft tits, squeezing and groping as he moves faster and deeper inside you, his breath hot against your ear.

“I'm… I'm gonna cum.” You manage to whisper between moans, muffled once again by Simon's rough lips. The overwhelming sensations build within you, the familiar sensation of your muscles tensing up and fingers tingling starts to grow stronger by the second, the intensity of your connection with both men driving you over the edge.

The sensation of one of their cocks hitting your cervix over and over makes you whine softly, muscles tensing up as they sandwich your bodies between them, finally letting go, your orgasm washing over you as your walls wrap tighter around their cocks, your fingers digging into Simon's skin. It doesn't take long for them to follow after you, fucking into you as deep as they can as they release a thick load into you, cocks pulsating with each rope they shoot.

They remain buried inside you for a moment, chests heaving as they try to catch their breaths. Price is the first one to pull out, watching as their combined cum seeps out of your spent pussy before he lays down next to Simon, your warm body being pulled to the side as Simon lays on his side, his cock still buried inside you even while he's softening.

“I love you.” He finally confesses, tired eyes meeting yours for a second before shutting again as Price embraces you from behind. Your leg is resting over Simon's body, making the position a lot more comfortable as you bring his face closer to your chest.

“I love you too. Both of you.” You whisper, tiredness slowly taking over your body, not even realizing that Simon is already asleep, his face buried on your soft tits. Price lets out a small chuckle, planting gentle kisses all over your warm back, his hands lightly gripping your stomach as a way to let you know he loves you, too.

[actuallysaiyan]

Isn't This Your Naked Body In My Bed?(Nanami Kento x Fem!Reader)

warnings: smut, somnophilia, unprotected sex, breeding kink, nipple play, impregnation kink, vaginal fingering, domesticity, slight lactation kink

word count: 1.5k

pairings: Nanami Kento x Fem!Reader

summary: Kento comes home late one night after work, and he's just dying to be so deep inside of you. The only slight little issue? You're asleep when he gets home. So he's got to warm you up a little bit first.

a/n: Dedicated to the wonderful and talented @seireiteihellbutterfly!!

For this request:

It’s been such a long day, and all Kento can think about is returning home to you. Thoughts of your pretty smile, loving touch and sweet scent are what keep him going. He’s in the car driving home and he turns on the radio. He smiles to himself when he hears the radio station playing your song. It’s the song that had been playing when he first confessed his love to you. It’s also your wedding song.

The car pulls into the driveway and that’s when he realizes just how late it is. He sighs as he opens the car door, shutting it as quietly as he can. Then he makes his way into the house, trying his best not to make a sound. It’s dark inside your shared home, and he knows that you’re more than likely asleep.

Kento slips on his house slippers, hangs up his jacket and places his briefcase at the entryway. He begins to tiptoe into the house, making sure he doesn’t make any disruptive noises to potentially wake you. His eyes scan the kitchen, noticing just how spotless it is. His heart swells with pride and love for you. You really do all you can to make sure he comes home to something so comforting and clean.

Eventually, he heads into the bathroom. With a sigh, he tugs on the knot of his tie and loosens it. Then he begins to undress as the water warms up in the shower. He’s been looking forward to this all day, and he’s practically salivating at the thought of being soothed and massaged by the high-powered shower head and hot water.

Once he steps inside, he can smell soft traces of your own soap and shampoo. He knows you must have had a shower just before bed, or maybe you had a bath. He wonders if you missed him just as badly as he missed you. His mind races, filling with thoughts of finding you in your shared bed all fresh and showered. A soft grunt rumbles through his chest as his cock twitches to life,

He wants to stroke himself, but part of him thinks about maybe saving this arousal for when he’s in bed with you. Maybe you’re still up, which was a possibility. You had a bad habit of lying in bed, scrolling on your phone til the wee hours of the morning. Kento begins to imagine how he could just go into the bedroom after his shower, his towel low on his hips and then he could just so easily press you into his favorite position.

With renewed gusto, Kento finishes up his shower in record time. His cock aches at the thought of being able to be deep inside of you soon. He finishes up his evening routine before padding his way into your shared bedroom. His eyes widen when he notices it’s dark inside the room, and you’re curled up under the covers. But he can’t help himself, he needs to feel you so close. He wants to be able to smell you and taste you.

His hands rip the towel off and he crawls onto the bed carefully. You slowly stir, but you don’t wake up. His eyes are calculating as he watches you slumber; your chest going up and down with soft breathing patterns. Your eyes are closed and a small smile plays on your lips. You look like an angel like this. 

Kento gently rolls you onto your back, causing you to moan. But still, you don’t wake up. His hands are so tender as he caresses your pretty face. He kisses your lips, only to be captivated completely by the smell of your sweet-scented shampoo and body wash. His cock twitches a few more times; the tip is red and leaking precum.

“Look at my pretty angel,” he whispers softly before kissing you again. Your eyes just barely open, but soon you’re back in dreamland.

His long fingers ghost over the soft little negligee you’ve got on. It’s silky and lacy, but it’s comfortable. He remembers when he bought you this little number. It was when he was on a long trip far from home, and he thought of you immediately when he saw it. The way it fits you like a glove turns him on so much, he’s not going to be able to hold back for much longer.

Then he pushes the skirt of the negligee up, exposing your cute little pussy to him. His mouth waters as he sees that you’re a little wet already. He wonders what you’re dreaming about, but he knows that you often dream about him. You let out a soft, sleepy mewl when his fingers part your folds. Your eyes glaze over, opening for a few moments before shutting again as sleep takes over you once more.

“Pretty little pussy,” Kento huffs in your ear as he lays down next to you. “All wet for me, hm?”

You groan as one of his fingers slips into you, “Mmm…Ken…”

You’re on the edge of sleep and wakefulness. There’s that fine line of consciousness. It’s so sexy to watch you react to this while you’re just barely awake. Your silky walls suck in his finger, coating the digit in your juices. Kento begins to pump it in and out of you, his eyes dark and pupils blown wide with lust.

His voice is gravely as he leans in again, “You still sleepin’, angel?”

You let out a mewl as his thumb comes up to rub your swollen clit, “Kento…”

He smirks as he keeps you stimulated just enough to keep waking you up, but you’re so tired and sleepy that you continue to drift off. He gently slides another finger into you, grunting as he feels your cunt gripping his fingers. Slowly and gently, he pumps them in and out of your dripping hole. He can basically smell you from here.

Kento nips at your neck softly, groaning as he gets a whiff of your body wash again. You smell divine. It makes his cock twitch once more, and he presses himself against you even more. As he pulls his fingers from you, he parts your thighs a bit more. Your eyes barely open as you feel the heft of his girth resting on your mound.

“You ready for me, darling?” he asks in a raspy tone. He taps the leaking head of his cock against your clit.

This makes you wake up a little more, a sleepy smile playing on your lips. Your eyes are just barely open as you watch him slipping the head of his cock into your cunt. A gasp is ripped from you as he slides all the way in, his balls plush against your ass. Your hands cling to him, grounding yourself from the intense pleasure.

“Did you forget about what we’re trying to do?” he asks you between soft kisses that turn even more heated.

You shake your head, “N-no, didn’t forget.”

He begins to roll his hips, the head of his cock rubbing up against that sweet spot deep inside of you that causes you to see stars. You can’t help the pathetic little noises that fall from your lips. Kento catches them all with his lips, 

Your legs slowly begin to wrap around him, and his hands come up to your breasts. He cups them, pushing them together before he dips his head down to take one of your nipples into his mouth. You moan as he begins to suckle on your nipples, making you clench around him even more. Kento can see the sleepiness in your eyes slowly begin to dissipate.

“Is it safe to say that my pretty angel is waking up?”

You moan as he slides his hands under your hips, pulling you up against his muscular body. He loves the way you’re so close to your own climax already as he’s been stimulating you this entire time. Kento kisses a trail from your tits to your neck, biting down so gently. His breath is warm as it fans on your face.

“Gonna put a baby in you,” he grunts. “Going to make you a mommy,”

You can’t help but begin begging him for his cum. You’re becoming more and more desperate as your own climax begins building. Flames lick at the fire that’s so deep in the pit of your belly. The coil inside of you is so tight, you swear you’re about to cry from the heavenly pleasure your husband is providing you.

“Please Ken…please, I want it.”

“You’d like that, yeah? You want your big, strong husband to breed you?” Kento asks, feeling you clenching and pulsing around his cock.

He chuckles at just how fucked stupid you are already. Or maybe it’s partly the sleep that still hangs in your mind and body. He kisses you lovingly, and the minute his tongue touches yours, it’s all over. You cum hard, your nails desperately digging into the muscles of his back. Your cunt pulses and contracts around him; your gummy walls are beginning to milk him.

“That’s it, angel. That’s it,”

You whine softly as you feel his cock throbbing within you. Shot after shot of his thick cum begins to fill you up, painting your insides white. Slowly, he stops his pace and nuzzles his face against your chest. His hands come back up to cup your breasts, suckling on your softening nipples.

“I can’t wait for these to be full of milk…”

[undercoverpena]

had to see you

simon 'ghost' riley x fem!reader

summary: And then, he says, “It’s nice.” “You can tell me if it isn’t, I promise I won’t be offended—it’s not as though I cook often.” “It is nice,” he repeats, giving you a look which tells you to stop worrying as if you have any control over your feelings.

an: eventual smut. angst with happy ending. will-they-won't-they, but they do. smut. he loves you 100%. word count: 5.7k || there’s a part two to this here

simon ghost riley masterlist

You love the rain. 

Not so much when you’re away. When you’re strapped up, weighed down by all your gear. The additional weight of being wet makes for an uncomfortable experience, with hair clinging to foreheads and mud sticking to your skin. It also forces things to rub more, chaff. Your skin is often raw from where the buckles and belts sit. 

But, at home, it’s refreshing. 

It’s why you never hated your nickname, the one given to you in jest—to remind you that you are a female, soft, emotional. Only for it to grow more fitting. Because Rain comes from above, sharp, falling where needed—catching people by surprise, and leaving traces behind, but never enough to know where you’ll land next. 

Rain is also one word. One syllable. Short, sharp and easy.

It can be spat, it can be sweetly said and affectionately called. 

On good days, it reminds you of long car rides, staring out of windows at passing traffic as you watch beads of its travel down—racing. On bad days, it reminds you of more unpleasant memories, ones born in moments you’d sooner forget, an emptiness in your chest from betrayal, loss and bad choices. 

At home, rain itself keeps you rooted. The scent, for one, not allowing your mind to whisk you off too old memories of war and enemy territories. The sound, for another, hits your windows and dulls the silence. All three senses are busied by it. It all blends perfectly together with the crackling of your candles and the low-light vibe you have going off in your flat. 

Plus, there’s nothing more British than bad weather. 

Each time you’re able to come home, you hope it’s raining. Landing back, greeted with cold and horrid rain. Preferably the kind which looks misty through windows and soaks you in seconds when you step into it. The kind which makes it hard to know which speed to put your car wipers on, and socks get drenched as puddles form quicker than people can account for.

You didn’t care that you looked like a drowned rat when you unlocked your flat door. Or that your wet clothes were difficult to remove as steam filled your bathroom because you were always going to have a shower. A routine—a tradition of sorts. 

Hands desperate to wash the months away, let your expensive soaps and scents soak into neglected skin and smother old scars and newly gained ones. Plus, the water was hotter at home, almost scolding your skin as you stood under it, letting each droplet massage a part of your neck and upper back as your living room music drifted through the cracked door.

You dress before you really prune, sliding on silk PJs—the ones which you buy as a treat and wear once, maybe twice a year. Your skin sighs in relief, thankful to forget sand, bullets and bruises, the same as your mind. Busying your hands with preparing a lavish dinner, a large dish too ridiculous for one person—but again, you’d missed it. Home.

The scent of gravy, potatoes and meat.

When asked, you’d been quiet about your plans with the others. Them only having a slight idea of which city you call home. It’s not that you didn’t want to see them—not even sure you’d be able to fall asleep without Soap’s snores, Ghost’s huffs and Gaz’s odd bedtime stories. But, you’d gained new nightmares on the last job—ones which you needed to make peace with before they stole another fraction of your soul.

That’s what it did, eventually. Even to the best of them. 

Bad choices, untested intel and wrong moves left little marks before they claimed a piece of innocence, kindness and happiness. 

It’s a little different with the 141. Without realising it, you’re sure you all help smother each other's struggles away. But it’s only temporary. You know it, you can feel it in the muscles in your back and in the knots in your stomach. So, if you saw them now when you needed to heal—if you relied on them—you’d go back weaker than when you left. And they needed you; you needed them. A team where you could only trust one another—having been betrayed so often, you were all each other had.

It’s why you were taken back by a firm knock. 

Short. Deliberate. 

Pausing, allowing whoever they were to realise their mistake. Even if the sound didn’t appear as though they’d chosen the wrong flat or someone who was cherry-knocking. It was purposeful, direct, and your hands quickly dried on the kitchen towel as your feet crossed the tiles and laminate to your front door. 

When you’d left, you’d asked a friend to check in on the flat—fix the peephole. Something having forced it to get stuck, leaving you blind to whoever was on the other side. Your friend is good, kind, and sweet but forgetful. Something which also reminds you of home as you snort, undoing the chain, and unlocking the door, half expecting them. 

Only to see him. 

“Ghost?” 

He has a hood up, and a scarf wrapped around the lower part of his face. 

His eyes fall over you, taking you in centimetre by centimetre, digging into you as if he’d not expected to see you.

You find it just as odd to see the skin around his eyes not tainted in grey or black and that his frame is still as ridiculously large, even in plain clothes, as he holds a duffel bag in his hand.

Suddenly aware of the thin layer covering your body from him. Especially as his eyes drop from your face to the silk shirt with its three buttons undone and then to your legs, where silk shorts did their best but were futile in hiding thighs, knees or legs from him.  

“You lettin’ me in?” 

Instinctively, you move, not even questioning it. 

Even if he didn’t say it like an order, he was still your lieutenant. Even on home ground, you slipped into your sergeant role too quickly. Watching him pass you, turning to face the direction he moves in before pressing your back against the inside of your door. Fingers sliding to the side of you, turning the lock, the sound filling the small space as you watch him stop at your key hook, slowly sliding his feet from his boots—finding him wearing thick, bobbly socks. 

He turns to face you, eyes washing over you again as his hood remains up as he undoes the scarf. It doesn’t matter if you’ve seen his face a handful of times, each time, it still renders you silent, if only for a second. 

Clearing your throat, you rub the back of your neck. “I don’t mean this to come out as rude, but why are you—“

“Someone broke into my place.” 

You move, almost too quickly, from the door. Your hand brushing his shoulder, wanting—needing—to comfort him, soothe him like you would a friend. Before you remembered who this was. 

Almost surprised he doesn’t flinch. Even if he does shoot you a surprised look before you wrench your hand back. 

“S-sorry. Habit.” He frowns, and you wish the floor would swallow you whole. “Not with y—when I’m home, I’m… well, I—did they take anything?” 

“Not sure.” 

Right. “Do you need somewhere to stay?” 

He looks at you briefly before his eyes flick away, the tell-tale signs of him processing and thinking. You’ve seen him do it often, especially when Price is talking and when he reads files. As if he’s choosing where to store it in the filing cabinet, he calls his brain. 

“Please,” he says, the word almost coming out as a whisper. 

As if it’s so rarely ever said. 

You’re unsure what to say, even if there’s so much swirling around your brain. So many questions you want to pepper him with, but he’s not Soap, who’ll answer them all or Gaz, who’ll have already told you everything. 

He’s Ghost. 

Silent. Quiet, Ghost. 

Your oven beeps, his head turning to the sound. 

Sighing, you rub your arms, suddenly aware of how cold your hallway feels, as you cover your chest with your elbows. “You hungry?” 

Silence. 

A beat or two blossoming, your eyes unable to move from his face, even if you know you should, before he licks his lips, saying, “Starving.” 

You smile, “Good. It's not a lot, just some chicken, potatoes… a bit of veg. Nothing huge. And, not quite a typical Sunday roast, but enough to ease me back in.” 

He doesn’t laugh, not that you expect him to. 

“Bathroom is there, to your right. If you need it,” you say quickly, almost stepping past him to answer your beeping oven. “I just need to dish up, and… yeah.” 

You expect to feel calmer by the time he’s back. Especially with your dressing gown on, loosely knotted at your waist, covering more of you from him. 

But you’re more nervous. 

Doubting the food you’ve plated, the scent of the candles, whether the low lights make it romantic and whether you should turn up the acoustic songs playing or let the rain be the soundtrack of the evening. Suddenly aware of how fucking odd this is. 

Him being here. 

And yet, not that odd at all. 

“Hope it’s okay…” you mumble nervously as you place the plate down.

He looks like he belongs at your table, even if your table is small and usually for one-person. He’d helped, in as much of a way as a stranger can in someone’s home, grabbing glasses from cupboards you direct him to, making squash for you and water for him. 

His hands stuffed into the pocket of his hoodie as he waited for further instruction, catching sight of the hood still being up, having noticed he’d swapped jeans for dark joggers before you told him to sit. 

“There’s more gravy… just wasn’t sure how you liked it,” you add. 

Ghost doesn’t answer, not even as you slide into the chair opposite. Your hands have a slight tremble to them as you pick up your cutlery, trying not to watch him take a bite—suddenly feeling like a contestant on a judging show. 

And then, he says, “It’s nice.” 

“You can tell me if it isn’t, I promise I won’t be offended—it’s not as though I cook often.”

“It is nice,” he repeats, giving you a look which tells you to stop worrying as if you have any control over your feelings.

The two of you fall into a comfortable silence, the occasional sound of a fork grazing the plate and the knife slicing through food. It’s almost normal—as though this happens regularly. 

“Your place is nice, too,” he mumbles.  

Lifting your head, you find he’s looking at you already. “You don’t have to lie, Simon. You can still stay even if you think my decor is odd.” 

His eyes widen a fraction before it vanishes like it never existed. A brief moment of you wondering why, until you realise the slip—the way you used his name and not his alias. Making it feel personal. More so than the two of your knees occasionally butting under the table. 

“It’s not what I expected.” 

“You’ve thought about my place?” 

Ghost says nothing, hovering his fork over his dinner as he keeps his eyes down. 

You smile if only to yourself, pushing some meat and vegetables onto your fork, continuing—wondering if he’s hoping you would. That silence would settle over the two of you, the storm outside being enough background noise to keep it from being awkward. 

“I have to ask,” you say suddenly, keeping your gaze down, trying to still your pulse as you manoeuvre food around the sauce. “Why me? I mean… I don’t mind you being here, but I thought, well, I assumed you’d pick Soap—if you needed a place to stay.”

You try not to look, even when you hear a faint snort, seeing his plate—empty, only traces of broccoli stalks remaining—slide closer as the chair creaks in his movement. 

“You were closer.” 

Oh. 

Your stomach drops, suddenly feeling foolish for thinking there could be any other reason. 

Almost wanting to kick yourself for allowing yourself to consider another option, one which you’ve been stuffing down for weeks, months… 

It isn’t as though you were meant to fall for him. The man who originally kept his face a higher guarded secret than his own name. But, it stemmed naturally and out of nowhere. He made you laugh as you moved into an enemy building—nerves humming in your bones. He made it worse when he flung himself in front of you before a car exploded, gripping you tightly against him, not letting go for minutes later before his hand cupped your cheek, mouthing words you couldn’t hear as ears rang and rang.

Smiling, you nod, not sure what else to say as you take his plate and yours, turning your back to him as you hear him clear his throat. 

“I had to see if you were okay.” 

You don’t place the plates down, not immediately. 

Eyes trying to peer at him through the corner of your vision, slowly lowering the porcelain to the counter—too afraid to break the moment with a single sound, even as your heart hammered in your ears, in your chest, and throat. 

He had said it so softly, you have to wonder how long it’s been churning on his tongue. 

Slowly turning, you face him, finding his eyes already on you with an awkwardness in his shoulders as he looks up at you. 

“Well, I’m fine.” 

“Had to be sure.” 

You smile, pulling your dressing gown around you tighter. “Well, that’s because you’re a good lieutenant.” 

His brows knit, lips spreading into a thin light before you notice the subtle shift in his nostrils as though he’s sighed before Ghost nods with his usual professionalism. That’s when your stomach drops, fluttering ridiculously near your feet as you feel you’ve made a mistake.  

“Tea?” you ask. 

Ghost’s face shifts and you’re almost sure there’s a faint smile on his lips. 

“Don’t worry, I know how you like it,” you add, pulling open a cupboard as you retrieve two mugs and flick the kettle on. “I’ve heard you berate Soap for his piss-poor tea skills.”

You make him snort. 

And it does nothing to stifle the fluttering.

If anything, it adds to it. 

Shit. 

Even though it’ll be his bed for the night, Ghost refuses to sit on the sofa and doesn’t allow you to sit in the armchair. Practically insisting you sit how you would if he wasn’t here. Even if you’re worried he won’t be comfortable, the ridiculous chair was bought as a filler—an accessory, rather than something people actually used.

“Fine,” you mumbled, grabbing your blanket and curling up across both seats as he clutched the mug in his hand. 

You put something crap on the TV, the volume low—just in case he doesn’t feel like talking. Your eyes flick to it occasionally, half-listening as you softly wiggle your toes under the blanket—needing something to focus on. Because you couldn’t keep looking at him. 

Not with how your mind was running away from you, imagining ifs and buts and everything else in between. 

He fits here. Your home rarely feels warm and comforting, but with his presence, it does. As though your place has always wanted to be enjoyed by two people, not one person who rarely ever visited it. 

It doesn’t feel weird, even if it should. It makes you feel unsteady, and dizzy. Suddenly unable to stop focusing on the fact there’s a six-foot-something amount of feelings in your chest, twisting and tightening, trying to unlock everything you stuffed down. 

That same instinct and set of emotions which made you try to rip yourself from Soap’s grip when Ghost had entered a blazing building just for a stupid USB; how you’d been so angry, feral—as Soap called it—not able to think, how it had filled you, consuming you. How you’d even told Price you needed benching, unable to even look at your lieutenant, never mind be in the same room. 

He eventually cornered you on the base, pushing you, mixing between berating and taunting you until you slammed your small fist into his shoulder as you called him an idiot, a fucking cunt, a liability, a heartless cunt. How your tiny fist hammered into him with each array of insults until he grasped it tenderly, staring at you until tears bubbled in your eyes. 

You cannot die.

Why?

But, he had to know. His eyes followed a single tear down your cheek as he released your wrist, allowing you to walk away from him and begin the process of stuffing everything down again. 

Then you’d been shot. Through and through. Fire, gasp and fucking pain, your mind rendered uselessly, but he was still the person you called for. Not Soap, who was closer, not Gaz, who could actually stitch you. But Ghost. 

Ghost who came in a flash, telling you what you needed to hear—ordering you to do things like look at him, gripping his arm. 

“What?” 

Blinking, you didn’t even realise you’d been looking at him. Your mind blanking excuses tumbling from your grasp as you offer the quickest smile and a ‘nothing’. 

You forget how good he is at reading people. 

Especially you. Almost sure you make it easy for him, even if everyone else says they struggle. 

Ghost always knows, as though he’s in your head, digging his way through each time he stares at you. You wonder how much you let him in, whether he finds it easy before you want him in there—in your mind, in your heart. 

Now, he’s giving you a stern look, one which makes the truth rattle in your chest and snakes up your throat. 

Sighing, you shake your head. “Fine, I was thinking about how weirdly normal it is that you’re here. That it doesn’t feel weird, alright? That was it.” 

Anyone else, you’d think they’d smirk. 

But with him, it’s the slightest movement of his lip which tells you he has heard you. 

Ghost takes a sip, purposefully holding your gaze as he does so before filling the silence with, “You thought about it, then? Me being here.” 

“Of course I have,” you answer too quickly, wanting to kick yourself as the words hit the air, his brows raising as he sips his tea. “Not… Not like that.” 

“How then?” 

Shit. Swallowing, you sigh, trying to buy yourself time. Shit, bollocks, shit. 

“Should tell you, lying to your lieutenant isn’t smart.” 

You give him a sharp look of your own, and he snorts—actually snorts. Your eyes are all set to roll until he says your name. 

Your real name. 

Not your nickname. Not sergeant or soldier. 

“Fine. I’ve thought about it.”

“It?” 

You groan, pulling the blanket up further—not that it’ll hide the obvious warming of your cheeks or embarrassment. You’re sure that’s painted across the room, likely even doing a jig at your expense. 

“Us. You, me. In a bed,” you mumble. “Happy?” 

Wanting to hide your face, almost about to when the sound of his mug meeting your coaster makes you freeze. Your armchair—the one his frame has somehow fit into comfortably—groans as he moves, and you let yourself see him from the corner of your eye. His forearms leaning on his knees, his hand sliding his hood down as he watches you. 

He’s silent. 

So silent it almost kills you. The adverts in the background do nothing to stop it; the rain, now hammering against the windows, was not stifling it. 

Slowly breathing as you place your mug down, standing before you can even consider the options. “I didn’t realise how late it is,” you say, forcing a yawn. “I should… go to bed. Let you make your bed.” 

You fold the blanket, throwing it over the arm as you try to shrug, and play it off, but he’s quicker at recognising you—he knows you better than that. His hand comes to touch your wrist, like he did months ago, eyes scanning yours.

For what you’re not sure. 

Not wanting to get your hopes up. Not wanting to lose yourself in dreams and imagination. 

So, you smile. As sweetly and as believable as you can as you point to the coffee table chest. “Blankets, pillows, the lot are in there,” you say, almost breathlessly, as he releases you. “Have a nice sleep, Gh—Simon.” 

He swallows, his face remains unreadable as he chokes out, “You too.” 

But you’re already moving, desperately seeking your room—throwing the door open and shutting it as you place your back against it. She’s closing, chest hammering so hard you’re sure it’s trying to escape. 

Go back. 

Go back to him. 

Your eyes slowly open, catching sight of yourself in the mirror as the street lamps partially light your room.

He came to check on you. You. 

Rolling your neck, your fingers flex at your side, twisting your wrists, wanting to shake it all from you. Trying, desperately to rid yourself of the tension and adrenaline. Almost doing so until you hear the floorboards outside your door creak. 

It doubles your heart rate as a lump forms in your throat, suffocating you. You don’t want to give in, but wish to all at once. Your hand cupping your mouth, trying to hide the extra breaths the sound has forced you to make. Needing him. Wanting his calloused fingers to leave marks over your skin, his stubble to slice against your cheeks as his lips capture your breath, words and soul.  

It’s that which makes you shift from the door. Not sure what you’re expecting, what you’re going to see, as your hand twists the doorknob, coming face to face with him all over again. 

His hoodie is gone. 

Expression torn—that same awkwardness in his shoulders.

Your hallway light touches his unreadable expression, highlighting all the lines and shading of his tattoo that stand out against his skin. 

“Tell me to go back to your living room.” 

Inhaling sharply, your hand drops from your mouth and falls limply to your side. 

You are not thinking, thoughts all scattered, scrambled. Not even sure you can find words to tell him you want anything but. That you want him here, right in front of you; you want him to be rough and also kind, you want him to kiss you like he’ll never have the chance to again. 

As though reading you, he moves closer, not even touching you, but your body yearns for him, muscles tensing and spasming at the endless thoughts of what could be—what he could do, what you already know he’d be good at. Suddenly wanting to rid yourself of your dressing gown, of your PJs, of the thin lace between your thighs you’ve already ruined. 

“Words, sweetheart.” 

Sweetheart.

Your legs almost give way, a smile wanting to bloom and spread across your lips, up your cheeks until it's radiating from you. 

“Tell me. Or I’ll kiss you.” 

Speechless, your lips part. 

Yes. Please, yes. 

Not even sure you are even breathing as you imagine his hands on you, his mouth against yours, against your neck, descending down and down—

His hand cups your cheek, pulling your eyes to his as he examines you. He studies you like he’s capturing every fucking inch of you: the curve of your cheeks, the position of your brows, the way your lips are waiting for him. The clear crisis you’re going through is rendered and broken at the mere thought of this becoming a reality. 

“Simon…” you manage to whisper.

Hoping it's enough. Needing it to be enough. 

He blinks once more before he lowers his head, his lips planting against yours and you’re sure you explode. Your heart furiously beating, ears buzzing and burning all at once.

Barely focusing on the way his arm snakes around you as your mouth moves to meet each one of his movements. His lips are soft, even if his tongue is rough; his grip tight, purposeful—desperate, even if yours are gentle, nervous. The pads of your fingers slide past the healed scar on his cheek, moving into his hair, his groan vibrating against your lips. 

Gh—Simon is almost lifting you, moving you back as his foot kicks your bedroom door shut behind him, blocking out the light from the hallway. Only the streetlights dance shadows across your room as kisses grow messier, fingers brushing over skin as he hooks a finger in the waistband of your shorts, then sliding, freeing you, until you’re stepping out of them. Your robe next, falling with a thud as your hands slide under his t-shirt, feeling taut, hard muscle and silver scars which paint stories as your legs find your bed. 

He smells different than usual.

Less sweat and fireworks, and more some combination of Ghost meeting sandalwood and amber as the two of you bend down onto your bed, the frame hissing at the weight and movement—not even aware of what’ll be expected to support soon enough. 

“Shit, woman. Y’know how beautiful you are?” 

His teeth nipping, sucking, leaving an answer to your prayer before you feel him unbuttoning your top, all slow and gentle, as if undoing a present he’s waited desperately for. 

“Rip it,” you moan, his teeth grazing over the space between your breasts before he lifts up. 

His eyes burn into yours, the smallest evidence of a smirk on his mouth as he slowly shakes his head. “I’ve waited too fuckin’ long to get here, I’m takin’ my damn time.” 

If you weren’t already soaked for him, that did it. 

All slick, swollen and hungry for him. Not sure if it’ll even take much, not with how precise you can imagine him being—how fucking thick his fingers are, how he’s staring at you like he wants to break you in all the ways he can before sunrise.

And you want it. Desperate for it. So much so that just the fan of his warm breath against your exposed nipples makes you rub your thighs together, needing friction—something he can tell, he must do. 

“Wait.”

It’s sharp, authoritative, and he’s going to be the death of you. 

Your body is so tense, you’re sure it’ll snap if you keep any more still as he undoes the last button and exposes your skin to the cool air and his breath. So focused on his eyes, you’ve forgotten all about his hand until you feel lace dig into your waist, tightening and tightening—snap.

And he smirks.

The devious bastard smirks. 

Your lips part to make a remark—one you’re not even wholeheartedly sure will come out right—but it dies when he touches you, one finger, one thick calloused finger sliding between your thighs, brushing where you need him. 

“Fuck…”

“Part them, sweetheart.”

And you do.

You do it like he’s said open-fucking-sésame. Two fingers sliding against you, diving between your folds. It’s intense, teasing and everything all at once. It’s making you burn and shiver, sweat building on your brow as you pant and whimper. His name falls freely, almost chanting it, like a song you’re the only one who can sing it. He captures what he can, tasting each syllable you say of his name until you’re tightening and clenching, and he whispers in your ear how good you are, how perfect you are, and you meet your orgasm with blinding lights and arched back. 

The sight of him licking your want from his fingers brings you back, his mouth crashing against yours as you pull him down, knee bent against his hip as his hand comes to rest on your hip—the one you hope he’s bruising. Wanting, wishing for him to leave literal fingerprints as your hand slides between the two of you.

You knew before tonight Simon Riley would be big. 

Almost too big. 

The weight of him against your palm is something else, the thickness of his cock in between your fingers as you make him hiss, thumb swiping over the head as he groans. 

He mixes kissing and nipping at your neck depending on what your hand does, the groans of your name making you desperate—needing him inside you, suddenly empty and desperate all over again, but not for his fingers. 

You want him so deep in you you’ll forever feel empty without him. You want to feel every inch of him, want to rock against his hips as you press half-moons into his skin as nails dig into him. 

The ache growing, worsening as his tongue draws a line from your neck to your earlobe, his fist clenching around your bed sheets at your side. 

“Fuck… stop. Stop,” he groans, a hand smothering yours, halting you as he stares at you before pressing his forehead against yours. 

Letting him go, touching his cheek—his eyes full of lust, searing into you. 

“I want you.” 

“Yeah?”

You nod, his lips sliding up into a half-smirk—a Simon special. “I’ll go slow.”

“I hope you fucking don’t.”

His eyes harden. “I’m going slow. I’ll ruin you later,” he whispers darkly, before capturing your lips, a hand gripping the back of your thigh—shifting it just over his hip.

You're set to argue, and comment you can handle it until you feel him lineup, the head of his cock pushing against your folds. 

You gasp as his hips move forward, slowly pushing himself in, your nails digging into his shoulder, into his waist as shivers run down your spine. The stretch being both too much and everything all at once, your toes curling, him slowly burying his cock all the way in as his fingers stroke your jaw.  

“So fu—tight. Fuckin'-shit, sweetheart.” 

“Simon…” 

Your hips roll, moaning at the way it feels, having never felt so full. Never felt so stretched. 

He’s slow, as he has been since he stepped over the threshold. His determination to take things slow, to take his time, not lessening now that he’s deep inside of you. 

You’re sure you’ve left an array of welts and half-moon marks into his shoulders as he begins to roll his hips, his thrusts purposeful, desperately seeking that spot he already knows. 

“Eyes on me,” he says, thumb against your jaw as your eyes lashes beg to flutter, but land on him all the same. “There’s my girl.” 

It’s sinful the moan you let escape at his praise, your legs almost jelly as he steals it with a kiss—as though to taste it. Your mouth grasping for him when he pulls his head back, gripping your hip, helping you both to find a steady pace.

He does ruin you.

Not the first time, the second, but on the third.

Legs so sore, boneless and aching you can barely walk without his aid to the bathroom. 

You’re not surprised he places you down on the side of the bath, taking a cloth you point him to as he cleans between your thighs as your hisses feel the space. You catch sight of yourself, an array of colours developing across your neck, collarbone and waist—just like you wanted.

A painting in colours of his own design. 

You expect awkwardness once you shuffle back, giving him a moment. Finding underwear, sliding it over shaky legs before surrendering the idea of PJs as you slid between your duvet and sheets. When he returns, you brace for regret—for words you wish he’d swallow, face hidden in the scarf or behind a mask, but he’s in boxers and shuts your door with care. 

Simon crosses the room, lifting the duvet as he slides in next to you, reaching out, tugging your back to his chest as he places a single kiss on the space below your earlobe. 

You want to tell him everything. That you like him, could even love him by now. That you look for him too, that you worry, that you care. You'd tell him that he has pierced your heart, and you welcome the sting, that you'd be there, whenever he needed it. Even with knowing he likes space and distance and everything else in between.

"Stop thinkin' so loud," he grumbles against your skin.

Smiling, you fix your eyes across the darkness, finding the outline of your dresser as his hand finds your hip. Whether to soothe you or silence you, it makes your hands clammy.

Unsure if he knows that someone loves him. Someone wants him alive, wants him uninjured.

“I have feelings for you…” you whisper, fixing your eyes on your dresser as you swallow. “In case it wasn’t obvious.” 

He doesn’t tense, doesn’t move. 

Blinking, you try to trace the shapes of your handles, keeping your mind busy, the silence building and building. 

"Say that again." You turn your head, meeting his stare, watching as he raises his knuckles before he traces your cheekbone. "Please."

His touch is so gentle, so soft that it makes your heart swell—your face relaxing as you repeat it again. "I have feelings for you.

"I care about you and...I like you alive, Simon."

You don't expect a reply, a declaration of his own. The fact he hasn't moved and hasn't pulled his knuckles from stroking your cheek, is enough of a declaration. Your lips turn, meeting them, pressing the softest kiss to them as if saying I know, I don't need to hear it. I know.

Letting your eyes ensure the message lands as you hold his gaze, ever-so-slightly nodding.

“I texted him. Johnny," he says. His fingers spread, cupping your cheek, thumb stroking your cheek. “But, I had to see you. Had to be sure.” 

Your eyes lower briefly, feeling your heart almost stammer at his words. “Because I’m your sergeant or because I’m your girl.” 

You’re my girl. Mine. Fuck, you’re mine. Mine. All mine. You hear me, sweetheart? 

His thumb pauses against your cheek, likely remembering the same words he chanted over and over as he fucked you senseless. His eyes narrow ever so slightly as his lips twitch, and yours try not to smile.

“The latter.” 

You nod. Feeling your body flush with warmth, turning your head back away from him, grinning as he pulls you flush against him.

Your heart thumping mine, mine, mine. Hearing him get comfortable against the pillow, a soft sigh blowing past his lips and kissing your skin.

“You make shit tea, though.” 

read part two

a huge thank you to @ghostaholics for this absolutely gorgeous graphic. I can’t believe how much it encapsulates the entire piece and is just so me, and so pretty. thank you so much, I appreciate it so much 💕!

[granddaughterogg]

men of Modern Warfare and how they are in relationships

Captain John Price

Self esteem: high, and damn rightly so. Heart on his sleeve. Doesn't really get the idea of being emotionally closed off. Seems like such a hassle, innit? He's got a lot to give and is not afraid to admit that he's a giver through and through. His love language is words, but also touch, and this man is insatiable. Will drown you in tenderness if you let him. You want to feel like a queen for the rest of your days together? Marry his ass.

Johnny "Soap" MacTavish

Self esteem: Pretty high. He's impulsive as all out and a motormouth, so even if he wanted to hide his feelings from you - it's a battle already lost. He's way more sensitive that his Bro Persona might suggest and will be equal parts touched and embarrassed if you find out on your own. Showoff. Possessive to a fault. Can get quite cunty with his jokes sometimes, but will apologize for it profusely. He's so afraid to lose you. His love language is fucking your brains out. It's not like you're complaining.

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

He has this healthy belief in himself. Probably the most level-headed when it comes to falling in love out of the whole Task Force. Notices your affection right away and responds bringing his best game to the table - and this man can be Charming! Can get quite harsh when agitated though. Get prepared to be brought to tears if you two fight over something important. He'll notice that you're hurting, but firmly believes that it's not a reason to avoid discussion. His love language is shared hobbies.

Simon "Ghost" Riley

Whoo boy. Self esteem: Unwavering when it comes to his job activities, and fairly bad considering everything else. He's one big walking emotional scar. Doesn't believe to be worthy of love and therefore remains oblivious to it for the longest. Probably has alexythymia on top of it. You have to grab him by the collar and shout I LOVE YOU, YOU BIG LUG into his face or he'll never get it.

Once you two are officially together he will give you plenty of everything that you need- except words. Won't tell you that he loves you unless you're on a hospital bed or something. His love language are everyday acts of service. That joke about a man who got told by his shrink that he should show his wife more affection, so he went and washed her car? It's been written about SImon Riley.

König

Self esteem: terrible. Frankly speaking, he should attend therapy before he even gets in a relationship. But shit happens, right?

He's touch starved, sex starved, obsessive and zealous. When he falls in love, it's as if he regressed into being a teenager again. He will idealize the SHIT out of you, you will become his sun, his sky, his everything. You say "jump!" and he happily throws himself over a precipice. Don't say "jump." If someone hurts you, the police will have a grotesquely mutilated corpse on their hands.

Love language: sex. He is very much a sub, even when he's the one holding a knife to your throat because you've asked him for it.

[sinnersweets]

DogDay x Reader part 4

<;-----part 3, part 5----->

A/N: Making these a little bit longer for you all, enjoy!

Everyone in the Playcare that I walked past stared at me hard. I tried my best to ignore their glances at myself. I didn’t think that I looked that bad, but when I went into the restroom, I saw how wet my clothes looked, even though I did my best to dry myself. My hair looked a little rough as well. No way was I going to work looking like this; I needed to go back home fast and shower. I exited the bathroom and saw Sarah, CatNaps helper. I decided to talk with her first before heading home. 

“Hey Sarah.” She slowly turned towards me and moved her eyes up and down my body before slowly forming a smile. “Haha, what happened to you?” “Oh, just the aftermath of washing DogDay. How did it go with CatNap?” She took out her phone, snapped a picture of me and started texting while answering my question. “It was like fine, I guess. I don’t really wash him ever, just spray him with his lavender scent.” “Okay...well hey when you see him tell him I want an apology for what happened earlier.” I couldn’t tell if she was listening to me or not because she just continued to text on her phone. “Yeah, sure.” I rolled my eyes and started to head over to the cable car before saying something else to her. “Oh, and could you please tell DogDay that I’ll be back later? I gotta go home quick.” “Sure whatever.” I’m not sure how she got hired but I needed to hurry home before Playcare opened. 

--------------- 

I hurried home and threw the wet clothes into the washer and showered. The warm water felt nice, and I no longer felt cold. I finished showering and threw my clothes into the dryer. I had until the dryer stop to redo my hair, should be enough time. The dryer stopped just as I finished my hair. I went to take out the clothes and they were nice and warm. I got dressed and was about to head out before I realized something. I was supposed to smell like DogDay, but I didn’t have vanilla scented softener or soap. Crap. I didn’t want to get in trouble for not having a scent on me, so I decided to use strawberry poundcake perfume. I grabbed my nametag and headband and quickly headed out the door. 

--------------- 

“Wait don’t leave!” I called out but it was too late. The cable car doors had shut and started moving down to Playcare. I groaned in frustration. It took at least sixteen minutes in total for the cable car to go down and come back up. I looked at my phone and saw that I had five minutes to get down into Playcare. I had no choice, I had to take the stairs down. I sighed and quickly headed towards the stairs. 

I underestimated how many stairs there were to get down. I saw how many flights of stairs I had to take. It looked like at least eighteen flights. “Oh boy.” I started making my way down the stairs as fast as I could. The whole time I went down I kept hoping that I wouldn’t fall. Today was just not my day. I was on the last few sets of stairs when I somehow missed a step and fell down a set of stairs. I hated today. The fall didn’t hurt really but I did feel sore. I groaned and slowly got back up and decided to take the last two sets step by step. 

--------------- 

I opened the door that led into Playcare and saw that the lights had turned on. Time for the kids to wake up. I walked over to the Home Sweet Home building, in need of some pain medication. I was about to walk into the building but got scooped up by DogDay. “Angel! You’re back!” He hugged me a held me tightly. “H-hey DogDay!” My body was in a little pain so a hug from someone strong was not feeling the best. DogDay set me down and sniffed into the air. “Hm, I’m smelling something new.” He continued to smell the air and then leaned down and started sniffing me. I hope he wouldn’t be upset that I wasn’t in ‘full uniform.’ “Angel, you smell good! What scent are you wearing?” “It’s called ‘Strawberry Poundcake.’ When I went home and washed my clothes, I forgot that it’s supposed to smell like you, so I just sprayed my perfume.” “I love it!” Good, my boss wasn’t upset with me.  

DogDay asked why I was heading into Home Sweet Home, and I told him what happened, and he started to inspect my body. “Are you okay? Did you get a bruise? You’re not bleeding are you?!” I couldn’t help but smile at him. He was a good friend for being so concerned. I took his paws, held them in my hands, and looked up at him. “I’m okay, my body just feels a bit sore so I was going to see if I could get some pills for the pain.” DogDay sighed in relief and told me how to get to the infirmary. “When you’re done in there head over to the school, that’s where we’ll be at today.” I nodded and went inside Home Sweet Home. 

--------------- 

I got some medicine and started walking towards the school. In the corner of my eye, I saw Damian outside drawing with chalk with CraftyCorn. I walked over to both of them and said hello. “Hey Ms. Y/N.” Damian spoke out. CraftyCorn just shyly waved hi to me. Her voice box was having problems, so they took it out to fix it. “Whatcha doing out here? Shouldn’t you be inside with me and DogDay?” “Yeah, but I did well on an assignment, so Miss Delight gave me a pass to miss the first ten minutes of class. CraftyCorn will keep an eye on me.” He went back to drawing and CraftyCorn gave me a look that said, ‘He’s in good hands.’ “Okay well I guess I’ll see you inside in a bit.” He nodded and continued to draw as I headed inside. 

I found DogDay and he grabbed my hand and led me into the classroom. “Why hello there Y/N! DodDay here has told me so much about you!” The teacher who I’m guessing was Miss Delight spoke so cheerfully to me. She looked like a tall Barbie doll. “Nice to finally meet you Miss Delight. DogDay has also told me a lot about you.” She shook my hand and then turned to face the class. She clapped her hands to get the children's attention. “Alright class listen up! We have a new person joining us here today so please give a warm welcome to Miss Y/N.” In unison the kids said, “Hi Angel!” Miss Delight stared at them in confusion but me and DogDay laughed. 

--------------- 

Me and DogDay sat in the back of the classroom while we watched Miss Delight teach the kids about multiplication. The door to the classroom opened and in walked Damian. CraftyCorn was right behind him and stood in the doorway. “Ah welcome Damian! Thank you for looking after him Crafty!” CraftyCorn nodded and smiled before closing the door and walking away. Damian took his seat at the front and Miss Delight continued with her lecture. 

--------------- 

The bell rang and it was now lunchtime. The kids lined up and DogDay and I led them to the cafeteria. “You feel better Angel?” “Yes, I am thanks for asking.” DogDay smiled and we continued to lead the children into the cafeteria. 

As we entered the cafeteria, I spotted KickenChicken. He started walking towards us but then DogDay picked me up and started heading out of the room. “C’mon Angel let’s get some fresh air, plus there’s something I need to tell you.” I didn’t argue with him and let him carry me outside.  

We made it outside and he sat me down and sat on his hind legs. “You know the little girl wearing the overalls today? Her name is Darla, and I was told that today is her last day here in Playcare.” When DogDay spoke, he sounded a little upset. “That’s good, isn’t it?” “Oh yes, it is Angel, but it always makes me sad when someone from my group gets adopted.” That’s understandable. He’s been with them forever and now they get to leave, and he stays here, forever. “Well, I say you go back inside and spend as much time with her as you can today, and we’ll worry about her leaving tomorrow. I don’t want to see you sad right now, especially since you’re with your Angel.”  

I laughed playfully and DogDays ears perked up. “Haha. You’re right. No need to feel sad when I’m with you.” We looked at each other smiling before DogDay cleared his throat and stood up. “Wanna head back in?” “In a moment, just need to re tie my shoes.” DogDay nodded before saying “Don’t be too long Angel!” and he went back inside the school. My face felt a little warm when he said that. I might need to get my temperature checked later. I tied up my shoes and got up to head back inside before I spotted the drawing that Damian did. It was DogDay, me and him all holding hands. Above us was the word ‘My Family.’  

A/N: Next part will include more of DogDay and you talking. Thank you for the comments in the last part!!

[hellavile]

LUV THIS SHIT | eren yeager.

‍ ‍ ☆. warnings — 3.1k. fem!reader, eren’s pent up from working out, asmr sexting, submissive reader, impact play [ face smack, spanking ] public arousal, indecent behavior, mating press, f!oral, fingering, profanity, established relationship, lots of making out, unprotected sex, eren’s aggressive, floor sex, riding, creampie, artist!reader, pet names, reader has black features, minors aren't allowed! 

‍ merry christmas! ♡

eren starts his day the same every morning. the alarm goes off at six o'clock which is never your favorite thing to hear considering you're not an early bird. usually groaning in your state of sleep and tugging the blankets away from him after he kisses you on your forehead and steps out of bed. you always snuggle on his side before the warmth he created grows cold. proceeds to take a steaming hot shower, tilting his neck back to let the heavy beats of water dampen his long hair. lathers his body with african black soap you picked up from a shop while SONDER plays from his speaker, careful not to blast it too loud to wake you up. it's your off day so he's respecting your wishes to hibernate all day.

he honestly hates leaving you alone in bed. sue him but being your little spoon is the best thing he's ever known. he's never slept so good in his life until he met you. never knew it felt so comfortable being in another persons arms. eren’s next step is to dress for the gym, the only reason he's up this early three times out of the week. a dark gray towel is wrapped low around his slim waist, tatted chest and arms running with water droplets as he wipes the foggy mirror clear to see his reflection. washing his face with a kale, spinach, and green tea cleanser along with brushing his teeth, cleaning his tongue with a scraper and gargling mouthwash. he forgets to do this backwards sometimes considering he has to eat first. the taste lingers and makes his food nasty.

afterwards, he’s moisturizing his face with cerave healing ointment and his pouty cotton candy lips with one of your babylips sticks. lathering his body in vaseline coca butter lotion and slipping on a olive green colored sweatpants with a black cropped metallica muscle tank, wrapping a matching black bandanna over the top of his towel-dried chestnut hair. he spritz this cologne you picked up at the mall when thinking of him called art deco amberwood by clive christian. makes you fall to your knees to suck him off every time now that he thinks about it.

by then it's near seven and he's down in the kitchen with his black airpod max’s over his ears listening to jazz while he blends his smoothie with spinach, kale, strawberries, blueberries, and pineapples. he gulps that down after filling a mason jar completely. and for further consumption, he makes avocado toast topped with chia seeds, himalayan salt and pepper and two strips of bacon each.

before he leaves he makes sure to run back up the stairs to double check on you to see if you needed anything before he left such as picking up a coffee from dunkin or anything from the art supply store. he peaks his head through the door to see you sprawled out, mouth open and snoring peacefully, cuddling his pillow. he smiles to himself, mumbling ‘my pretty girl’ before quietly tiptoeing close to the king-sized bed with satin sheets to give you a kiss or two before heading out, moving your bonnet aside to whisper that he loves you.

he's got his gym bag and his car keys when he leaves, taking the elevator down the parking lot of the loft you two live in, three years now. he finds his car parked directly next to yours. cute. the pretty wolf gray kia k5 besides his onyx lexus rc 300. there's a gym located in the building but he prefers the one your brother owns a few minutes out of the area.

it's around ten o'clock when you fully wake up, missing his presence already and pouting about it before heading to the shower yourself. sitting in a towel for a full hour stuck on tiktok and getting a craving for samyang carbonara noodles and rice cakes. it's really the only thing that made you leave the house today, throwing on a pair of eren’s gray nike shorts you had to roll up to properly sit on your hips, and a black tank, jewelry remaining on your skin everyday from layered necklaces to multiple bracelets. 

you're sitting in the starbucks drive thru which has an incredibly long line but you're not minding the wait, craving a pink drink suddenly. the sun was hitting nicely into your car so you decide to take photos to pass a little time, thumb slipping and accidentally opening the voice memos app with only four recordings, one of them fairly new. created about two weeks ago and you vaguely remember that night. it's about an hour and fifteen minutes long

'luv this shit <3’ is what it's titled. not remembering exactly how it went. you and eren only used this app whenever you're having sex, meaning those four audios were strictly nsfw. you bite your lip in curiosity, deciding to press play to hear it, flinching when you hear how loud you were screaming on top of forgetting that your phone is connected to your cars bluetooth. you swallow in panic, turning it off and sitting back in silence, twiddling your fingers, becoming impatient with the line now because you wanted to hear it. it had to be something the two of you made when you were intoxicated. or else you would've remembered it.

you've retrieved your pink drink, and now it was time to park, too impatient to wait and hear this. sipping your drink, you get comfortable, holding your phones speaker to your ear and pressing play yet again. there's music playing in the background, luv this shit by august alsina in specific, now you knew where the title came from. probably eren’s doing. a rush of heat swarms your cheeks and gut as you hear your boyfriend’s voice, deep and stern as he talks to you while skin connects and your moans overshadow the music. the sound of you kissing wetly makes you shift in your seat, feeling his soft lips on yours at the moment. you loved kissing him.

it lasts for about two minutes before eren’s voice becomes louder than yours when he's fucking you hard, your voice muffled by your hand you assume, doing that a lot since you think you're too loud. “let me fuckin’ hear it,” there's his voice again, unconsciously whimpering along with yourself in the audio. eren’s whining with you, the two of you gasping and listening to how wet you were. a loud smack erupts and you're crying his name, the memory slowly coming back. he smacked your face. the jewelry on his wrist prominent when he does it again, this time it's the outside of your thigh.

“rennnnnn! fuh-uuck.”

“i hear you, baby. come on, come on, come on, cum, cum, cum.” with every thrust he gets louder, hissing as your pussy constricts around his dick. “that's it, pretty. yeah.”

you nearly spill your drink over your lap, the cup slowly slipping from your grip after you zoned out, catching it quick and collecting yourself, setting it in the cup holder. you need to leave. actually, you need to send this to him. he has to be done at the gym by now. then again, you're never sure with him. the man could work out all day if he wanted.

being risky, you grin, pulling up his contact and sending him the audio, following with a text that said . . .

NEW MESSAGE

kuromi princess hello kitty baby star ♡

don't we sound pretty? <3

follicles of eren's hair stick to his sweaty forehead, putting it up before he started his workout, going on for about three hours now. RICH FLEX blasts in his headphones. the neckline of his top is doused with sweat, removing the boxing gloves off his hands to sit down and gulp a full bottle of water. checking his phone, he sees your message. lifting his brow at the audio you had sent, reading your response, and clicking it without hesitating. immediately when he hears your desperate pleading and skin smacking, his pupils dilate, clenching his jaw and checking his surroundings. not many people were in this area of the gym.

“fuck me, baby. fuck me, baby. fuck me, babyyy,” eren listens with wide eyes as he hears your pretty moans, skipping through the audio to hear bits and pieces.

“yeah, speak to me like that.”

eren grows shamelessly aroused from what he's hearing, swallowing hard and shifting his dick back in place, breathing heavier. he's mad at you. mad because you know he's in public and he gets easily turned on by anything regarding you. whether it be your scent, your smile, your eyes, or your fucking voice. when you talk, or scream his name. it's all the same. he's triggered by it all. and you know this, so why test him? not to mention the two of you haven't been sexually active because you've been caught up with work and painting and he's been working doubles. the only time you spend together is brief mornings in bed or one day weekends, usually sleeping all day or being lazy.

all he can think of this moment is fucking you rough and raw. gathering his belongings without another thought and sending you a brief text.

pretty boy ren <3

yea, okay.

it's so stressful walking with a hard dick, and eren really can't wait until he gets home to fuck you up. such a dirty girl needing to be put in place. he forgets his headphones have noise cancellation, so when he's speeding home like a dummy, music continues to thrum in his ears, acting like a complete madman. exactly five minutes before he enters the apartment, you're sitting in your usual corner of the loft where you've made your art station. sitting on the ground while incense flows and sza’s new album plays soundly. a canvas laying on the ground where you sat on a cushion, finger painting a collage of the weeknd’s discography since it's the 11th anniversary for echoes of silence. unaware of the message you received.

that is until you hear the familiar sound of keys jangling and in a matter of seconds, the front door flies open, there standing a big, tall, visibly irritated man. your eyes go wide from seeing him, eren kicking off his shoes, heavy feet stomping towards you and you sit up with curiosity, trying your hardest to hide your devious smile. you knew it'd have that effect on him. eren’s hot hand grabs your jaw fervently, clenching his before yanking your face close to his to connect your lips in a heated kiss. smacking his lips roughly over yours, moaning into his mouth, his eyes focused on your face as you close your eyes too comfortably for his liking. as if you're not in trouble for the shit you pulled.

your hands kept to yourself on either side of his wide shoulders, eren dragging you down to lay on your back onto the cushion you previously sat on, slipping off the black panties covering your neglected pussy, weeping, and waiting for him to get home to do exactly this. staring up at him with glee in your eyes, it's the opposite in his. he can't hear a thing you say because of his headphones, not bothering to toss them off because the only thing on his mind is sliding his dick inside of you and getting his nut off.

raising your knees without his help, he's pushing them further up to your chest, folding you still before arching his neck to release globs of spit onto your cunt three times max, each one emitting a ‘puh’ sound. you clench from his dirty act. his big body hovers over yours, heavy dick practically drenched in precum resting on your mound before eren angles his hips to slip into you. he doesn't give you time to brace yourself, gasping as he groans and thrusts his hips fast, your skin clapping and body jerking under him. beautiful green irises switching darker as he stares into your soul, your moans faintly being heard.

“think you fuckin slick, baby?” eren rasps, your mouth agape, his grip on your thighs harsh. “did that shit on purpose just so i can fuck that pretty pussy stupid on my cock, right?”

“y-yess,” he watches you nod drunkenly, your hands digging on your sides into the rug beneath you. every pound into your slick pussy vibrates into your throat, following his rhythm. happy tears brim your eyes.

“s’okay. ‘cause i got something for you.”

his pace hastens, heavy balls slapping against your ass as he drills deep, jackhammering almost, like a needy, inexperienced boy. your cunts squelching loud, hand pressing at his abdomen in attempt to slow him down but he only fucks you harder, air knocking from your lungs. it's so fucking hot the way he's handling you right now, like he's been so deprived of you for so long he couldn't stand it. couldn't even take his clothes fully off, keeping every piece on because he needed you that badly.

“ooh, i'm fucking cumming. ssss, fuck,” eren moans. you squeal as eren takes both your arms and crosses them over your tummy, holding them there while he puts his weight on you and grunts in your face. sweat dampening his bandanna, breath mixing with yours as he cums inside you. coating your walls with thick spurts of white. your knees buckle from the feeling, his lower halve twitching from the rush.

eren licks his lips, stilling his movements to take a breather, knocking back one of the ears to his airpods to hear how desperate you sound, slowly pulling his dick out, still hard.

“eren, i didn't cum,” you whine, squirming with an attitude.

“i think i knew that.”

you put your middle finger up to him for his smart ass tone, eren arching a brow and scooping you up without another word. smiling, you cling to him as he moves towards the couch, deciding to stay seated on the floor, lifting you so you sit on his lap. his cock resting on his stomach where you're able to see toned abs and a dark, neatly trimmed happy trail to match your cute brazilian strip all cause of that slutty, grunge crop top he has on. his back rests against the furniture. you take the initiative to remove these stupid headphones so you could put your hands and mouth around his neck.

“i don’t think you understand how much i thought about fuckin’ you today. you really fuckin’ don’t.” eren lands a heavy hand on your ass causing you to jump and scoot forward from leaning back on his knees. “could barely fucking focus. all because you sent me that shit.”

“and because you miss me,” you whisper, delicately skimming your lips over his, arching into him as he spreads your ass cheeks apart after smoothing over them. spanking you hard on either side until you gasp into his mouth and he could kiss you again.

“sink on it real slow,” eren taps your clit with the tip to say he wants it done now. sucking on your lip, you raise yourself till he's kissing the entrance and gently easing down, indenting crescent moons into his broad shoulders momentarily. dragging your hands to your waist, you rub over your body, hissing and throwing your head back, feeling a storm of euphoria fuel you. eren hums in fascination as you lose yourself in the bond.

“g’na say sorry with your pussy, baby?” eren taunts in a baby-like tone.

“mhmm,” what eren wants, eren gets. and if he wanted you to ride his dick you were going to. getting up on the tips of your toes and rode only on the tip first, eren choking on his spit with brows furrowed and praising you. soon, inching lower to bounce yourself up and down to his liking, being sure to clench your walls a little tighter just to hear him whine. when eren gets really feral he gets really loud. unable to control what his vocal cords let out. he used to think it was embarrassing, but the two of you have shared enough time together to dismiss judgment. he sounds so pretty when he's getting fucked good.

“shit, you keep fuckin’ me like that m’ not gonna last,” ignoring him, you continue to clap your ass down, skin interaction picking back up, eren’s hands on your hips just for leverage. he never needs to guide you. a few squeezes occasionally since he's so sensitive. painfully aroused it makes no sense.

“i can't last long,” you warn, pawing at his chest as you raise your ass and fuck him faster, eren moaning and helping you out by pounding up into you. you fall forward into his arms, yanking you down each time you'd rise back up. smacking your ass just to hear your voice pick up. “eren, fuck baby!”

“unh huh, keep goin’,” eren’s face scrunches up, whining in your ear while keeping one of his tatted arms wrapped around your backside. your thighs begin to burn but you know stopping isn't an option when he sounds that good in your ear. eren gets aggressive and hits into you harder, same time ass you drop down with more force, tugging at his hair and he whimpers your name.  “keep that shit up, baby. yeahh.”

it feels so good you start crying, missing this so much. holding onto him for dear life as he somehow moves quicker, slouching in his spot so his neck settles back onto the couch, slipping his right hand under your right thigh and raising his hips to fuck up into you, lifting you like you're one of his weights at the gym. you watch as he mumbles ‘fuck’ with his eyes scrolled back and mouth wide open, jawline sharp, and adam’s apple in his throat prominent. he looked so fucking good right now you just had to kiss his neck. eren hitting that spot so good you can't control yourself from screaming, mouthing at his neck and leaving hickeys. he smells good, hints of musk and that damn cologne you love, feels good, looks even better. then wonders why you act the way you did. he’s made a monster.

“you fuck me so good, ‘ren. love you so much, missed you so much,” at this point you're babbling, saying anything that comes from your brain mindlessly. it's enough to make eren bellow streams of curses before hiking your ass off and nutting over your back, eren releasing a high-pitched gasp as he stares up at the ceiling in a daze. vision blurry. 

before you complain, eren’s lifting you higher and scoots further down to sit you on his face, hot mouth munching on your soaked cunt with puffy lips. your eyes cross and you scream into the air, gripping the couch as he slides two fingers, middle and pointer, deep into your hole, thrusting while his fat tongue laps at your clit, silver cuban link on his wrist cold on your stomach. he's swallowing your arousal like he's drinking a glass of water, moaning into your pussy and spanking your ass with his unoccupied hand.

“oh my . . .  god,” you're breathless as you cum, legs twitching and squealing from the intensity of your orgasm, losing balance and falling forward. eren smirks and smacks your ass one last time before moving from below you, sitting on his knees behind you and pushing your back down to fix your arch, turning your head to face him, fucked out face staring at him like he was crazy for putting his dick back inside you. you already feel so sore. 

eren arches his brow. “oh, you thought i was done?” 

˖ ࣪ ⌨ ˚ ﹢tags :: @sailewhoremoon @dejwrites @getosbunny @massivelynervousprincess @gatoru @satotokii @sintiva @shamelesshoefairy​ @minniecums​ @kiitysstuff​ @itsn0ct​ @7inaa​ @444yeager​ ​

[rileyslibrary]

An Unlikely Duo

Request by ✨ anon: Can I perhaps get a Ghost x GN!Reader, where reader got transferred to TF 141 and has two personalities? Like cold and badass on the battlefield and super friendly and chirpy back at base. So Reader, on day 1, already sees Ghost as a best friend and she loves hugs, so she decides to hug him after a missions success and leaves him frozen and a blushing mess?

Relationship: Simon “Ghost” Riley x GN!Reader

Word Count: 1,310

Notes:

Big thanks to my ✨ anon for requesting this. I enjoyed writing it! Hope I did well on my first request!

Fluff (the platonic kind)

Want more?

———————————————————————

You walk behind him, holding a container filled with freshly washed strawberries. His strides are long and confident, making it hard for you to keep up with him as you walk to the truck.

“Would you like a strawberry?” You ask, extending the container to him, but he ignores you and quickens his pace.

You try to catch your breath as you follow him, but it’s difficult. Whenever you think you’re closing the gap, he increases his speed and pulls away again. You break into a light jog to stay close.

“So, I presume... you’re not... a strawberry fan?” You ask, out of breath. Instead of responding, he lets out a dismissive “tsk” and continues walking.

“Why don’t you like str-”

“Get that damn thing away from me and keep moving,” he says as he pushes your hand away. “We have work to do; no time for strawberries.”

You come to a complete halt. “With all due respect, Lieutenant, strawberries are-”

“Just get in the damn car,” he orders, opening the back door and gesturing for you to get inside.

It’s your first day as the newest member of Task Force 141, and the base already feels like a powder keg. But that doesn’t bother you; you’re excited to be a part of such an elite team and contribute as much as possible to future missions. Soap and Gaz were surprised but amused by your cheerful personality when they met you this morning. However, not everyone on the team seems to be on the same page; Ghost was less than impressed. He sized you up from head to toe, looking for any sign that you were ready for the mission. But, instead of finding comfort, he was met by your cheery attitude and endless questions about his fruit preferences.

“What is this, Captain?” He grumbled at Price, “I asked for an explosives specialist, not a fucking Jack Russell.”

“Laswell swears by their abilities,” Price reassured him, “just give ’em a chance, brother...”

Despite his trust in the captain, Ghost remained skeptical. Was it the way you expressively waved your hands while speaking? Was it because you couldn’t stop talking about strawberries? Was it because you couldn’t stop talking in general? Whatever the reason, Ghost was clearly not on board.

He has the same attitude as he sits across from you in the truck, driving to your assigned mission. It’s a look of concern and contempt. as if he can’t believe what fate has brought him this time—like he’s been dealt bad cards yet again.

But that’s okay; you’re used to feeling like an outcast, and you’re not going to let that get in the way of this mission’s success.

“Yo, Lt.?” You ask excitedly, attempting to break the ice by pulling a purple star-shaped charm from your pocket, “Do you like it?”

He looks at you with half-lidded eyes. “You look like you just got out of a toy store.” He comments flatly.

“That wasn’t my question, sir,” you say wryly, “and if that’s the case, then you look like you just got back from trick-or-treating.” You smile and attach the charm to your assault rifle.

“Take that off this instance,” he says, “I won’t let you and your sparkles hinder our position.”

“Okay, first of all, they’re not sparkles—they’re sequins,” you say, waving your gun around so he can see the charm, “and second, they won’t even see it when they’re dead.”

“Stop talking.” He sighs.

“I’m conversing, not talking.”

“Then stop conversing.”

“Like, who doesn’t like strawberries?” you ask, lowering your voice.

“I told you to stop.”

“And sequins are pretty cool, man.” You mutter to yourself as you cross your hands over your chest.

“Shut it and put your helmet on; we’re almost there,” Ghost says sternly.

You fall silent as you gaze out the window at the passing scenery. The tension in the truck is intense, but you refuse to let it get to you. Instead, you take a deep breath and relax.

As the truck comes to a stop, Ghost explains the goal of the mission: get to the door where the valuable information is stored and collect as much intel as possible. After his brief rundown, you quickly exit the vehicle and assume position. It’s game time, and you’re determined to prove to everyone what you’re capable of.

You move fluidly through the environment, using your firearms, knives, and bare hands with precision to take out any targets that come your way. You are agile and swift, never staying in one place for too long and using your surroundings to your advantage. He takes quick glimpses at you every now and then to check if you are okay. He seems impressed yet wary; as if he’s testing you to see if you’re up for the challenge, yet careful enough to not put you in danger. As you work through the guarded area, you keep calm and focus on the task, finally reaching the steel-framed door. However, the door remains unyielding despite using military-grade hammers and refuses to budge.

You turn towards Ghost to plan your next move when you notice an enemy approaching him from behind.

“Get down, Lt.!” You yell and throw a knife at the enemy. The lieutenant is stunned but quickly regains his composure. He turns to thank you, but you cut him off.

“This isn’t a playground, Lt.; I don’t need a babysitter, and I certainly won’t become yours.” You firmly tell him as you push him aside and place the purple star-shaped charm on the door’s lock. “Step back,” you order.

Ghost looks at you, puzzled.” What is-”

“You must learn when it’s the right time for chit-chat and when to listen to the specialist, sir; please take a step back.” You repeat, and he follows your instructions.

With everyone clear of the area, you pull the cord and duck for cover. Five seconds later, your bomb detonates, blasting open the door and granting you access to the information inside. You quickly survey the room and pinpoint the location of the vital information. You approach it with calculated precision, relying on your training and experience to predict potential threats. The room is full of guards, but you’re prepared for them; you take them out, using your weapons with deadly accuracy. The intel is kept in a secure case, and you begin working on cracking it open. You have a special tool for the job, and the lock gives way in seconds. You open the case and extract the valuable information.

After a quick glance at the documents, you are pleased to see that it is exactly what you were hoping for. Ghost calls for backup to secure the scene, collect the documents, and transport them back to the base. As he completes his orders, he turns to the team for a debriefing, but instead is met by the old, cheerful you.

“LT., WE DID IT!” You yell and leap onto Ghost, wrapping your arms around his waist and hugging him tightly. He freezes and raises his hands as if he’s been arrested for a crime.

“Get off me,” he orders with an unusually high-pitched voice.

“No, you deserve it.” You object and proceed to pat him on the back.

“I did nothing wrong to deserve this, soldier; get your fucking ha-”

“Shhh, Lieutenant.” You cut him off by putting your hand over his mouth to silence him. “You must feel the hug.”

“I said-”

“They’re right, Ghost,” Soap interrupts him with a sinister grin, “you must feel the hug.”

“Yeah, listen to the specialist, sir,” Gaz adds, trying hard not to laugh.

Ghost looks at Price for help, who has a satisfied smirk on his face. The captain turns to Ghost and mouths an inaudible “told you so,” establishing you as a valuable member of their team from now on.

———————————————————————

[matthew-gray-gublers-babygirl]

Safe - John Wick x Fem!Reader

Summary: John comes home from work and he is wounded, and as his worried wife, you help him.

Warnings: swearing, oral m!receiving, blood/gore, talk of violence, mainly fluff.

Enjoy!

You sit alone in your large kitchen, biting your nails and shaking your leg as you anxiously wait for your husband to come home.

His profession was extremely dangerous. Every time he went out you didn’t know if he was alive. Whenever you heard a car pass by your house, you wondered if it were the police coming to inform you that your husband had passed.

You knew that you had to make certain sacrifices that came with being married to The John Wick, the Boogie Man, as they call him.

You hear the door unlock, and your breath hitched. Running to the door, you are met with John. You wrap your arms around his neck, holding back tears as you nuzzle your face into the crook of us neck. “Oh, John…”

His hands weakily wrap around your waist. “Y/N…” he sighs, resting his chin atop your head.

Your hand trails down the chest of his suit. You find the red substance of blood on his white shirt. “You were shot?”

“Stabbed,” he says. “Not too bad. I’ve been though worse,”

You sigh. “Yeah, just stabbed.” You say sarcastically. “What if next time you get stabbed even worse, or shot, and you don’t make it through?” You question.

John gives you a saddened look. “I’m sorry, Y/N. You have a right to be mad, and worried.”

You give him an angered gaze, but it slowly fades as you hear the sincerity in his voice. You lean up to kiss him. “You’re right,” you say.

You take him to the kitchen where you strip him of his suit jacket and button up shirt. “This is going to sting,” you say. “I know,” he replies.

The wound was shallow, but it was still gushing a fair amount of blood. Once you were able to slow down the bleeding, you begin to clean it. John lightly hisses as you disinfect his wound.

You quickly bandage it neatly, then reward him with a warm kiss on his lips. “You have to stop this, John,”

“I know,” he says again. “I- I can retire, if you want.”

“Will you really do that for me?”

“Of course, baby. You are more important than work.”

You smile softly. “If you think it’s the best, then you can. I will support whatever you do,” you say. “Will you be safe?” You ask.

“We are safe. We will always be safe.”

“No, will you be safe?���

John pauses for a concerning amount of time. “I will be safe.” He says. “And if anybody comes after you, or me, I will kill them.”

“John,” you say like a disappointed mother. But, you couldn’t help but smile. You loved your mass murderer husband.

“That’s the spirit, love,” he smiles and gives you a kiss.

“You should go wash up,” you tell him. His face was cut, as well as his hair slicked back with sweat.

“Join me?”

“Very funny,” you laugh before sending him up to the bathroom to clean off the sins of the night. “Be mindful of your bandages,”

“Yes, ma’am,” John chuckled.

John finds his way to the master bathroom. He strips the rest of his clothes and got into the shower. His bandage inevitably got wet.

He ran his hands through his hair, feeling as the heterogeneous mixture of sweat, styling gel and water ran down his back. It felt so releiving to wash himself of the stress and torment of his job.

He used a musky scented soap to wash off the sweat and grime he had accumulated through the night. He exited the shower, wrapped a towel around his waist before redressing his wound.

John left the bathroom, towel still lazily around his waist. You were in bed, reading a book as you awaited for your husband to join you.

You couldn’t help but look at his chiseled abs and cutting hip bones. Of course, you also couldn’t ignore his broad shoulders and tattoo covered back.

“Y/N. You’re starring,”

“Oh,” you say. “Sorry,” you laugh, and he smirks. “Is it such a crime to appreciate my husbands body?”

“No. Just funny to call you out on it,” he says. He grabs a pair of sweatpants and slipped them on.

“Come lay down, babe,” you pull back the comforter in the empty space for him to fill. He slowly lays down, and he groans as his aching back hits the bed.

“Are you really going to retire?” You ask as your hand gently rests on his chest. You slowly draw circles on his skin, avoiding any bruised areas.

“Anything for you,”

You smile, and he slowly leans in to connect your lips in a gently kiss. “I will love you forever…” he murmurs agaisnt your lips. “I will love you when I’m below the ground, and I will love you after the earth ceases to exist…”

You rest your forehead against his, shakily sighing. “I love you, too. Always and forever…”

John kisses you again, hungerly needing your touch and presence against his skin. He gently grips your hair as he hums against your soft, pillowy lips.

His hand reaches for your waist, pulling your laying body closer to his. He squeezes your flesh though your sleep shirt. You whine at the tight squeeze.

Johns lips trail off yours, adventuring down your jaw to suck hot sores on your neck. His hand on your waist moves up, dangerously close to your chest. He cups your breast with his sore and bruised hands through your shirt, gently massaging it in his palm. He knew just how to make you fold.

“John-“ you whisper.

“What, love?”

“Not tonight. You need to heal.” You tell him.

He rests his head on your shoulder, sighing softly. “You’re right,” he whispers. “It’s just so hard to keep my hands off you.” He glances down at his lap, seeing the tent growing in his sweatpants.

“Y/N?”

“Yes, baby?” You reply.

“I- um. I know you said I have to heal. But, what am I supposed to do about that?” He asks, moving away from the crook of your neck to show the erection in his pants.

You think for a moment, keeping your eyes fixated on his bulge. “I didn’t say I wouldn’t use my hands or my mouth on you,” you tell him, and he grins.

You reach for the waistband of his sweatpants, slowly pulling them off his thighs. Johns cock springs out from his pants. He was hard and throbbing just by touching your breasts.

You grasp his length. His breath hitched at the sight of your hand around his dick. You slowly begin stroking him. You hover above him, letting a string of spit slowly dripping down onto his tip.

“Oh-“ he mumbled as the warm liquid touches his pulsating crown.

You gently kiss the tip, your hand still stroking his shaft slowly.

“Y/N…”

You whimper against his cock at the sound of his voice. You knew you had to resist him. You couldn’t risk opening his wound and causing him any pain. Hopefully an orgasm would help his aching body in some way.

You slowly take in his length. You suck the tip, humming at the salty taste of his pre-cum. You knew he wasn’t going to last too long. He never lasted long when you sucked him off.

“Just like that, baby,” he praised, “don’t stop- fuck. Don’t stop-“

You didn’t stop, and you weren’t going to stop until you pleasured him to your full ability.

You take in more of his cock. John shivered at the sight of his erection engulfed in your mouth.

“I’m close- shit. I’m gonna cum. Fuck.” He moans.

You began sucking him faster. You felt as your lips glided over the thriving veins on his cock, but always focusing on the tip. He loved it when you toyed with his tip.

His hips shudder, causing you to gag. “Sorry, baby,” he quickly says. You don’t reply, gagging again. You didn’t care if you gagged on his cock. You loved it, because you knew that you were doing good.

His hips jerk up again. He grips your hair, moaning your name as you quickly and steadily suck his cock. He began chasing his release.

“Fuck!” He moans. His eyes roll back, head hitting the pillow as his cum shoots into your mouth. You always loved the taste of his cum.

You finish him off with your hand, swallowing all his arousal as you did. Cum continued to shoot out, going all over your hand as he bucked his hips into your palm.

You happily licked it off, humming at the salty, yet at the same time, sweet taste.

“Fuck. Thank you, baby…” he whispers. The pleasure helped ease some of his pain.

“Anything for you,” you smile. You kiss him, and he tastes his own cum off your lips.

“Can I return the favour?” He asks, toying with the elastic band of your sleep shorts.

You shake your head. “Not tonight. You can in the morning once you have some rest,” you tell him. He frowns, but obeys.

“Okay,” John says. He fixes his sweatpants, and you grab a tissue off the night stand to wipe the spit and cum off your hand, and a bit of the white fluid that got on his stomach. John reachs over to turn off the bedside lamp, groaning as his body was strained to make the reach.

“Goodnight, baby…” you lay your head on his chest, yet again mindful of the bruises and cuts.

“Goodnight. I love you…” John whispers

“I love you too…”

[babasauto]

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[somanyratsinthewalls]

Curiosity Killed the Cat (+18)

Pairing: Massacre Soldier Killer x Female Reader

WC: 2600

Summary: You’ve never seen Killer without his mask. It’s a secret that you can’t help but need to be a part of. Your curiosity gets the best of you and Killer catches you peeping. 

TW: !SMUT PURE SELF INDULGENT SMUT! Porn with VERY LITTLE plot! fingering, p in v sex, unprotected sex, creampies, multiple orgasms, filthy talk, praise kink good girl etc, size difference. it's just porn.

**Minors DNI!!! 18+ only!!***

— — 

You had been with the Kid Pirates for half a year now and during these six months you’ve learned the inner workings of the crew and the Victoria Punk herself. You knew that the best place to take a nap was in the storeroom next to the kitchen. You knew that Heat and Wire have had a game of Dungeons and Dragons going on for the past 6 years and they play every Friday evening. You knew that Killer hated when you left food on your plate at the end of a meal claiming that “a girl needs her strength.” You knew that every morning at 10:00 AM sharp, Captain Kid would render the ship’s only bathroom unusable for at least the next hour. 

There was something that was still a mystery to you. 

You had never seen Killer without his mask. 

It was something you had wondered about ever since you first met the crew’s first mate. Was he horrifically ugly? Maybe covered in scars? Why did he hide himself from the world? He was always the kindest to you of all the Kid Pirates, making sure you were fed and had supplies you needed when you first joined the crew. Your crude captain left a lot to be desired in terms of intelligent conversation, but in contrast, Killer would inquire about the book you were reading or if you needed a late night snack. 

Tonight you were drawn into the kitchen by the delicious smell of garlic and onions being sautéed in oil and butter. You enter the galley and can’t help but flit over to the stove where Killer was diligently working. You lean over the pot of boiling pasta water and the steam feels nice on your dry, salt-worn skin. 

“Mmmmm, smells so yummy, Kil!” He was nearly a foot taller than you, so it was easy to sneak in-between him and the stove to get a better whiff of his decadent culinary creations. 

You feel his massive chest behind you vibrate as he chuckles. 

“Thank you, little one. I hope you’re hungry.” 

*SLAM* 

“Hey, that shit smells good!” Kid exclaims as he barrels into the kitchen, slightly drunk already. Killer whips his head around to look at his captain. You take this moment to lean your head back and try to peek under the gap between his chin and his mask. You strain your eyes but all you can see is darkness. Your efforts are quickly thwarted as Killer returns his attention to the stove to stir the pasta. 

“Are you making that thing I like? The spaghetti cars banana?” Kid asks as he takes a sip of his beer. 

Killer sighs. 

“Carbonara. It’s carbonara, for the last fucking time.” Killer looks down at you. “Dinner’s almost ready, why don’t you wait at the table?”

You smile up at him, searching the holes in his mask for any clue at his expression. You nod and proceed to set the dining table for the evening meal. 

— — 

After you had your fill of wine and pasta (making sure to gesture to Killer and show him your clean plate to which he gives you a playful thumbs up), you decided you’d treat yourself to a hot bath. You were sure that the rest of the crew would spend the rest of the night drinking themselves stupid so you could enjoy a quiet bath in peace. 

You stroll into the bathroom with your towel and lay it next to the tub. You put the plug in and get the hot water started. You search the cabinets for some sort of bubble bath, but end of having to settle on an unmarked bottle of body wash. You pour the soap into the bath and white, fluffy bubbles start to form on the surface of the water. 

Once the tub was full, you shut off the water and stripped yourself of your filthy, ocean-smelling clothes. You step into the steaming water one foot at a time and gently lower yourself into the bathtub. As soon as you’re settled with your head leaning against the edge of the tub you release a deep sigh. 

After a few minutes of soaking, you find yourself almost drifting off. The doorknob clicking open snapped you out of your daze. The wooden bathroom door creaked open and Killer stepped inside the bathroom. 

You instinctively cover your breasts with your hands, but it goes unnoticed by the intruder who went straight for the sink and counter on the opposite side of the room. You realize that he hasn’t even noticed your presence so you hold your breath, not wanting to startle or upset him. He stands at the sink for a moment with his hands gripping the counter. 

He then raises his hands and reaches for the back of his head. 

Oh my god. He was taking his mask off.

You were paralyzed, breath caught in your chest, eyes locked on the golden locks spilling from behind the mask. He leans down and pulls the mask off and leaves it on the counter to his right. You involuntarily slap your hand over your mouth in surprise. 

You eyes are fixed on the bathroom mirror when you see a pair of angled, sharp blue eyes staring back at you in it. 

“I know you’re there, little one.” 

You gasp. You still can’t move, stuck staring into those enchanting eyes. The only other things you could see were worn white bandages and messy blonde hair cascading from atop his head. 

“Come on out now… I want to show you something.” Killer says without turning around. 

You were mesmerized by his sweet voice, so you obeyed and stood up and stepped out of the tub. You dried off quickly and wrapped your towel around your torso before Killer interrupted you. 

“You won’t need that. Leave it. Come here.” 

You drop the towel and hesitantly approach the man at the sink, his muscles rippling in his back through his blue tee shirt. 

“Jump up here. I want you to help me take the bandages off.” Killer pats the counter to his left. 

You were frozen in place and your eyes were glued to the floor, so anxious about seeing his face. 

“Be a good girl and listen. Up.” Killer pats the counter again, more forcefully this time. 

“Yes, Kil…” You squeak and turn around and use the heels of your hands to pull yourself up onto the counter. You still would’t look up. 

“It’s ok… you can look…” Killer puts his hand over yours as it rested on the counter. You slowly raise your head and see a face covered in bandages, the only parts exposed being a thick pair of dark plum lips and those piercing eyes you saw staring at you from the mirror. You suck in a breath. 

“Here..” Killer pulls your hand and places one of the edges of the bandage in it and helped you begin to unravel it. With each pass of your hand across his face, Killer strokes up and down your bare thigh, causing you to open your legs involuntarily. 

With no sounds other than your own heavy breathing, you finally reveal Killer’s face. You gasp as you pull your hand to back your chest. He was so beautiful. His bright eyes such a contrast against his olive tanned skin. His chin was chiseled and his nose was pointed so sharply. You also notice faint scars littering his cheeks, similar to the ones on his left arm. You didn’t care, he was still handsome to you. 

“Killer… you’re… so pretty…” You reach a hand up and gingerly touch his cheek. He smiles softly. You curse him silently for keeping that smile from you for so long. He laughs and nuzzles into your hand. 

“Not as pretty as you, little one. Will you let me see you, too?”

“W-what do you mean?” You question. 

“Put your legs up, spread yourself for me.” He states as he starts bending your knees to place your feet on the counter at your sides, widely exposing your most intimate area to him. You feel blush fill your cheeks and the tip of your nose. 

“Mmm… now that’s pretty…” Killer coos as he slides his huge hand down your inner thigh to stroke up and down your slit with his thumb, sticky slick coating his digit. You find yourself shivering in anticipation under his touch. He begins focusing his movements on your clit as he rubs it in agonizingly slow circles, working you up at a painful pace. 

You can’t do anything but pant heavily and stare at his hand caressing your naked sex. 

“Look at me.” Killer demands. You oblige and look up at his exposed face. Your mouth hangs open as you keep his gaze, his rough thumb on your clit driving your crazy. 

“Killer…” You whimper up at him. 

“You’re so wet, sweet girl. So ready to get stretched out, hmm?” His lips curl into a devious smirk. 

You nod dumbly without breaking eye contact. 

Killer plunges two large fingers into your soaked hole and immediately curls them up into your spot. 

“Shit, Kil!” You cry out and grab his bicep with one hand, supporting yourself on your other palm. He pulls and tugs his fingers repeatedly inside of you while grinding the base of his hand into your clit. 

“I can’t hold it! I’m gonna! Fuck, Killer!” You whine loudly as you feel the coil in your belly tighten dangerously. You slam your eyes shut and grab onto his arm with both hands, leaning forward into him for support. 

“That’s good little one, hold onto me, just let go for me…” 

“OH FUCK!” You cry out and fluids spray out of your body onto both Killer and the bathroom floor. Your core squeezes and spasms, tears threatening to spill from your eyes as Killer helps you through your orgasm by whispering sweet nothings into your ear. 

Slumped over into his shoulder, Killer removes his fingers from your core and scoops you up in one arm off the counter.

“You did such a good job, cumming so nicely for me. Think you can take my cock now?” Killer asks as he hikes you up in his grip, forcing you to look at him again. 

“Yes, I want it, please…” You say softly, still coming down from your previous high. 

“Perfect.” Killer chuckles and turns to carry you to the table that you usually used for folding laundry. He lays your naked, flushed form gently down on the surface of the table and rips his shirt over his head. He quickly unbuckles his belt and shuffles his jeans down his legs and steps out of them. His huge dick bobs in your direction, uncut tip red and leaking. 

“It… it’s not gonna fit…” You breath out as you stare in awe at his member while sitting up on your elbows. 

Killer grins again and steps between your spread legs, slapping his cock on your abdomen, showing exactly how deep it was supposed to go inside of you. You audibly whimper at the thought. 

“Sweetheart… you like being a good girl, right?” He coos down at you, his massive frame eclipsing most of the light in the room. He rubs soothing circles into your hip with his hand.

“Mhmm…” You sheepishly nod. 

“So you’re gonna lay there and take this whole cock in that tight little cunt of yours like a good girl, hmm?” He teases as he pulls back and guides his tip to rub up and down on your clit. 

“Mmmmhmmmm” You whine and buck your hips up into his touch. Killer uses this permission to press his heavy cockhead into your soaked opening. Inch by inch he splits your body open, the stretch causing you to moan out. 

“That’s right, little one… feels good, doesn’t it?” Killer reaches up a huge palm to squeeze and pinch your sensitive nipple. 

“Fuck, Kil! So full!” You squeeze your eyes shut and try to relax on his giant member. 

“Oh, my sweet baby, I’m not even all the way in yet!” Killer gives you a sinister laugh. He takes his opportunity to push his hips flush against yours and your writhe and cry from the sensation. You had never been this full in your life, he was truly stuffing you to your limits and it felt so good. He rubs your clit with one hand as he pulls back out, groaning lowly as he feels your cunt desperately cling to him and try to suck his member back in. 

Killer begins thrusting his hips, keeping most of himself sheathed deep inside of your walls and his hand gripped your waist to pull you back into him with each thrust. 

“Ah!” You moan and whine, grabbing and scratching at Killer’s broad chest as he molds your insides to the shape of his cock. You could barely breath, the man inside of you so large that you felt like he was in your chest. Killer speeds up his ministrations on your swollen clit. 

“Come on sweetheart… I feel you squeezing me, you’re close again…” Killer picks up the pace of his thrusts and you shriek out at the force of his hips slamming into your ass and thighs. “Fucking give it to me!” Killer presses harder into your clit and you scream and explode for the second time that night, for the first time on his cock. 

Tears were now freely flowing down your red cheeks and you could no longer form a coherent thought, let alone a sentence. You were a babbling, bouncing mess being speared by Killer’s massive girth. You were so dick drunk that your eyes were rolling back in your head. 

“More, more, more, more!” You slur out from your helpless state, spread out on the laundry table. 

“What a greedy little pussy… so fucked out and you want more? Want me to fill you, my sweet girl? Make sure you feel me for days…” Killer punctuated his last sentence with a push to your lower stomach. 

“Uh huh! Kil, please! Cum inside!” You try to nod your head but the force of Killer’s strokes made it nearly impossible. 

“Hnnnggg…” Killer slams his hips deep into yours and blows his heavy load into your wet, waiting walls. He leans down and buries his head in the crook of your neck as his cock still twitches inside of you. As his orgasm subsides, he sighs and slowly pulls out of your spent cunt, leaving a heavy stream of semen to pour out of your hole. He holds himself up above your head and looks down at you and smiles. 

You smile back. You lift a shaky hand and cup his cheek. 

“It’s you…” You whisper as he gazes affectionately into your eyes. 

“It is me. And you’re mine now.” Killer says. Before he pushes himself off the table and grabs your towel to wrap around his waist. After fastening the towel securely he grabs you by your sides off the table and throws your nude body over his shoulder. He carries you out of the bathroom, presumably to his bedroom. 

“What the fuck Killer?” Kid calls from down the hallway, spotting you both. “Why is y/n naked? What the hell are you doing?”

“Going to enjoy my dessert.” He calls back at his captain. 

It was going to be a long night. 

— —

xx

[slashers-and-rats]

sweethearts

thomas hewitt x gn!reader | nsfw |

rat chat: this was supposed to be cock warming but it just became comfy fucking your big boy after a long day so. yaaaaaaaay!!

it had been a long day for thomas.

he had woken up at the crack of dawn. he had to peel himself out of your arms, trying his best to ignore your soft spoken protests. he would’ve stayed if he could, but he had things to do. luda mae wanted to do some spring cleaning at the gas station, and he couldn’t leave his mama to do it all by herself. he knew you understood. but, the way you whined at him, and momentarily patted around at his side of the bed for his body made him ache a bit.

that was on his mind for the rest of the day. him and luda rode up to the gas station that morning, tommy eating breakfast on the way and staring out across the dried up farmlands. his focus was still on you when they arrived at the small store and began their work. luda washed windows and swept the front area, while tommy gutted the insides and scrubbed shelves and floors. luda mae said that if the place looked prettier, more hospitable, that they’d get more people coming through and stopping by.

tommy didn’t really care about any of that, though. he tried to seem like he was listening to her talk, and usually he would be, but he was so lost in his own head. he wanted to go home to you. it had become the highlight of his day. it made him feel like the men in the sitcoms and soaps his mama watched. they’d come home after a long day, burst through the door, and their sweetheart would be waiting there for them with smiles and kisses. you were his sweetheart now, and every day when he came home, you’d greet him with open arms and some pampering to soothe him after his hard work. it was a good routine you two had made, and he wished he could just fast forward to the end.

still, despite his yearning to just be home, tommy worked hard that day. he made everything spotless, organized the stock with his mama’s help, and even fixed up one of the old freezers in the back. by the time they were driving home, his muscles were sore and he was exhausted. he barely listened to luda talk, just staring out the window again, watching the familiar scenery pass by as they neared home.

when they stopped in front of the house, he waited for a moment for his mama to shut the car off. he was surprised when the engine kept running, and he turned towards her with a confused look.

luda mae gave a light hearted chuckle. “were you not listening, boy? i just told you i was going to tea,” she said, shooing him out of the passenger seat. tommy blinked a few times. he must’ve been more tired than he thought to not catch that. he shrugged it off, getting out and walking up to the door of the house. apart from the tires of the car screeching off, the home was surprisingly quiet. usually there was some uproar inside of the house, but… everything felt empty.

while, to some, that may seem suspicious, it brought an intense amount of excitement to thomas. the house being empty only meant one thing…

he pushed open the door with a creak, the sound acting as an alarm to the only other inhabitant currently there.

you ran down the steps, skipping a few at the end just so you could bolt into your partner’s arms. tommy grunted a bit when your body hit his, and wrapped himself around you as tight as he could. it made his arms sore, and his back felt like a rusty hinge as he bent over to envelope you in his warmth, but none of it mattered. you were with him now.

“i missed you,” you mumbled, the words smudged against his wide chest. he made a small grumbly noise, patting your back and pulling away just enough to see your face. your smile was wide, eyes glowing with something tommy could never quite define. excitement? adoration? joy? he assumed, in the end, that it was something good, and so he didn’t think much more about it. instead he just admired you, running his hands up and down your sides.

“jeez, you look tired,” you commented, brushing some of his hair from his face. he let out a huff through his nose, like a bull, and shrugged his shoulders. he was tired, sure, but he wanted to be with you. “come on, let’s go sit down.”

you took his hand in yours, leading him over to the family room. tommy took his time to glance around the areas of the house he could see. it really did feel empty. there were no creaks of floor boards, thumps of knives against the counter tops or tables, none of the usual mutterings could be heard through the walls…

you could see the way he looked around, scanning the rooms you passed on the way to the couch. “no one is home.” he looked down at you. “that’s what you’re looking around for, right? well, no one is home. luda mae got everyone running errands today since you two were doing all the cleaning. i don’t think they’ll be back for awhile, either. they’re making a trip to the big grocery store up in the next town.”

tommy nodded. he could feel a growing excitement coursing through his veins. he sat down slow on the couch, leaning back and looking up at where you stood in front of him. you placed your hands down on his shoulders, kneading them.

“y’know, you look really tense,” you nearly purred, a hand coming up to cup his cheek. he pushed into the touch instinctually, finding it only made him relax further into the cushions. “i know you’re probably really tired, but… do you maybe wanna play around a bit?”

he tried not to nod too enthusiastically, but it was hard not to feel the surge of electricity that immediately shot through him at the offer. he kept his eyes on your stomach, not wanting to look at you in fear that you’d see how red his face had gotten, or the desperation that had settled into his gaze.

you knew him, though. you could tell by the way his shoulders grew rigid, and his thighs widened to make way for his growing erection, that he liked the idea.

“we’ll start a little slow. i know you’ve had a really long day.” you patted his cheek gently, sinking down to your knees in between his own. he had to look away again, becoming overwhelmed by even the sight of you getting prepared to do something. your fingers easily unzipped his work pants, and you tugged them down his hips. he lifted up his waist so you could pull the pants down to his ankles, letting them stay there while you ran a thumb over the growing bulge in his boxers.

“must’ve been uncomfortable walking around with this all day,” you teased, leaning forward to kiss at the fabric. tommy was embarrassed that you thought he’d been hard all day, but you were right. since that morning when he left you, all he had thought about was coming home and getting even the slightest glimpse of you like this. he wanted it so bad, but he’d never confess it. his wants didn’t matter. if you wanted to sit and kiss over his clothed cock for the rest of time, he’d let you. as long as it made you happy.

your hot breath puffed out against his erection, and he twitched hard within the confines of his briefs. the bit of friction it awarded him made him shudder. his head went back against the couch, his body further melting into the seat as you teased him.

kiss after kiss was planted along his shaft, the feeling soon becoming too little. he pushed his hips up into you, ever-so-gently grazing his cock against your lips. you were getting the hint, and yet you remained steadfast in teasing him, the only upgrade being that you let a thick coat of saliva cover your mouth before kissing his erection again. it made everything feel damp, and made the fabric grip to him. the way his underwear clung to him caused the slightest bit more friction against his sensitive shaft. it was enough to make him whimper quietly behind his mask.

the sound sent a shiver down your spine. he could see the way it shook you, and made you squeeze your thighs together. your face dipped down lower, your cheek now nuzzling against his balls, as you kissed along the base of his dick. his hand went up to your head, cradling it, and yet also guiding it further into his soft skin. you could smell his sweat and musk, and feel the way his cock throbbed against your face. it made you throb in your own pants, your body growing hot with lust. he bucked up into the heat of your mouth, whimpering again.

you giggled at this, patting his thigh and pulling away, opting to kiss his tummy. it made him whine low, squirming against the cushion, and pushing his hips up into your absence.

“calm down, don’t worry… i just want you to take your boxers off. can you do that for me?” you asked, running your fingers up and down his inner leg.

he nodded with enthusiasm now, not thinking about how silly he may look as he rushed to lift himself up and shuffle his briefs down to his ankles with his pants. it made you smile to see him so excited, and even that made tommy’s cock twitch.

“good boy,” you cooed. you focused on his dick for a moment. it stood thick and proud, the way he was leaning making it settle against his tummy. it was already leaking, much to your surprise. you could feel the heat radiating off of it, and when you reached up to wrap a hand around his base, it pulsed in your fingers. he shuddered at the touch, embarrassed he was coming unravelled so quickly. he should’ve been used to this by now, it happened every time you pampered him like this, and yet he still felt bashful.

you hummed softly, leaning forward to press a soft peck to the tip of his cock. you quickly licked the precum it left from your lips, sighing softly. “you always taste so good, tommy.”

even that slight praise made his balls ache. his heart was racing, the exhaustion from the day mixing with his overwhelming need making him feel silly. he felt like the room was swaying, almost dizzy with arousal, but if you had asked if he needed to stop, he would’ve screamed no. he needed more.

you, never one to deny him of his needs, slipped his head into your mouth. the action made him groan, the sound trailing into a low breath. you got to work, rubbing your tongue over his tip while stroking in slow, short bursts along the base of his shaft.

tommy got lost in it all too quickly. he didn’t have the energy to stay coherent. he simply sunk into the pleasure, every once in awhile letting his hips stutter up into your mouth. other than that, he laid relaxed against the couch, rumbling sounds of pleasure emanating from his chest. he was like an old furnace. heat burned off of his body, and there was a roar of a fire in his stomach which caused the rumbling moans to leave his mouth like a chimney. he groaned and whimpered, even occasionally whispering your name.

he could tell you were amused. the way you indulged him showed that. at every sound, you gave him a little more, rewarding him for his good behaviour. you lowered your mouth further onto his cock, your tongue pressing into all those sensitive spots you had mapped out with practice. your hand squeezed around his base, or dipped down to cup his balls and massage them. you drooled onto his dick, using your free hand to spread the slick of your drool over what you couldn’t fit in your mouth.

tommy watched you when he could manage to pick his head up. he admired the way you bobbed, putting such care into the way you touched him. all you wanted was his pleasure, and all he wanted was yours. it felt good to feel equal.

it all added to that furnace inside of him. ever movement shovelled coal into the embers, and he soon felt like he was being engulfed by flames. his hips began to buck more and more often, soon just turning into a steady string of thrusts into your mouth. he was careful not to go too deep, not wanting to make you gag. it worried him when it happened. he was big, he might hurt you.

you looked up at him as you removed your hands entirely, allowing him to lazily fuck your face at his own pace. you watched him from your position below him, moaning around his cock so that the vibrations shook him. you could tell it worked, because your own sounds of pleasure would cause his rhythm to become uneven for just a moment, before he’d go back to the task at hand.

he throbbed in your mouth, the precum coating the insides of your cheeks. you tried to swipe your tongue across his head when you could, but found that it was just easier to let him make a mess of your mouth.

soon, you were dripping drool down your chin, lips puffy with abuse. tommy was getting close, your sinful image doing nothing to calm his growing arousal. small waves of pleasure ran through his body, all focusing down on his cock. he would cum soon, you could tell.

you didn’t want that just yet, and so you patted his knee, and popped your mouth off. the gesture made him choke on his own noises, and he sat straight up out of surprise. he looked down at you with worry, but you just shook your head.

“we’re gonna keep going. i just wanna have a little fun too, is all,” you explained, getting up to your feet. he looked you over, focusing on every little movement you made as you slipped yourself out of your own pants. he watched you wiggle them down your hips, turning around, and then sitting down on the edge of his lap. “guide yourself into me,” you instructed, before lifting yourself up.

for a moment, tommy was stunned. he didn’t move. he just stared at the back of your head, blinking through the exhaustion and excitement. you wiggled your butt, as if to remind him of his task. it did, and he quickly gathered his thoughts again. one of his hands went to your waist, gripping it gently, while the other pushed his cock up to align with your entrance. he pulled you down towards him, slowly and steadily guiding the head of his cock into your hole.

once again, the fire roared, and a low moan escaped him. he kept you there for a moment, now holding both of your hips with his hands, letting himself feel the way you squeezed around just the tip. he drowned himself in you. you whined, squirming in place, urging him to give you more, and he obliged. he pulled you down onto him, sinking every inch of his cock deep into you, and letting it disappear inside your tight walls.

he surrounded you. he pulled you back against his chest as far as he could, his strong arms wrapping around your torso and holding you in place. he widened his thighs to allow you a comfortable place to settle, but also to trap you further against his body. this is where you belonged, he thought. he’d never say it, but sometimes he wished he could keep you like this all day. you didn’t need to be anywhere else. this is all either of you needed. he knew it.

tommy leaned his chin down against your shoulder, pressing his cheek into the side of your face. you could hear his hot, panting breaths against your ear, and the way small raspy whimpers slipped their way out underneath them. you weren’t any more put together. his size stretched you open, nearly knocking the air from your lungs. you felt so full, so warm, and couldn’t stop squirming on his lap at an attempt to adjust to his length. with every movement, though, his shaft would brush against that sensitive spot inside of you, only making the pleasurable feeling inescapable.

you both revelled in this moment. the only sounds in the house were your breathing and small moans, and the soft squelching sounds coming from in between your bodies. he couldn’t stop leaking precum, and you had become wet with arousal long ago.

tommy was pulled down to earth when your hand overlapped one of his on your stomach. you patted it gently, leaning your head back against his shoulder. “you always make me feel so good, tommy… i’m so full,” you praised.

he grunted against your skin, pushing his hips up into your own. you could feel his thighs tensing under your weight. he wanted more. he wanted to bounce you up and down on him like some doll, or bend you over the arm rest and ram into you. he wanted to hear you try to praise him while you sobbed in pleasure. you were already shaking in his lap, massaging his cock inside of you. it drove him crazy. if he wasn’t so tired, he would’ve dragged you up the stairs and taken you with reckless abandon.

in that moment, he only had the energy to grind lazily into you. despite it not being much, it drove you both crazy. your hips rolled back to meet his own. it drilled him deep inside you every time, and pushed his head right up against your g-spot with ease.

his hands pushed up your shirt, gathering the flesh of your chest in his grasp and squeezing. the feeling made you gasp, arching slightly up into his rougher touch. he kneaded the skin, palms rubbing over your nipples. he swallowed up every little sound of pleasure you made, drinking it all in.

“tommy, baby, please… please fuck me… fuck me properly,” you begged.

thomas nodded, leaning back against the couch and grabbing your thighs. he pushed them up, holding them apart before beginning to shallowly thrust into you. it might not have been much, but it made you both melt. the way he moved you, guiding your hips into a swivel and driving you down onto him, made you both go crazy. with every wet slap of his cock into your hole, he whimpered or groaned, keeping a steady pace. he made sure your legs stayed open so he could get as deep as he needed to.

for once, tommy was able to somewhat keep it together. he was so focused on hammering into you that he seemed almost mechanical. meanwhile, you were coming apart on top of him, trying your best to hold on while he slammed into your spot with every harsh thrust. you were sobbing, gripping onto his arms to keep yourself grounded. tommy had gotten lost in his own needs, simply focusing on the ramming of your g-spot and the squeezing around his cock.

he only snapped out of it when you began squirming hard against his lap, your sounds getting louder and more strained. he nuzzled into your neck, breathing in your scent and watching you get close to your climax.

“you’re such a good boy… so good… you’re gonna make me cum. please cum too, fill me up. i need it so bad, please, please…” you whimpered. you didn’t have to tell him twice. he sped up his hips, chasing after not only your orgasm, but his own.

you came first, though. you squeezed hard around him, letting out a small yelp before beginning to tremble against his body. your thighs shook as you made a mess of yourself, coming hard and desperate on his lap. tommy was quick to follow. the way you milked him made it hard for him not to. he buried himself deep inside with one last thrust, making sure that nothing would spill when he finally shot his load. it flooded into you, his cum filling your hole with a warm, sticky feeling. he cried out when his climax hit, his arms dropping your legs, only to squeeze you hard and rock you against him. you both rode out your orgasms slow.

you stilled after a minute, resting back against tommy’s large body, breathing heavy. tommy could tell you both felt the same now; spent and ready for the day to be done. for a moment, all was silent, peaceful even.

then the door to the house opened.

thomas recognized the creaking sound of the front door, and immediately panicked. he grabbed a nearby blanket, throwing it over both of your lower halves, and quickly switching the tv on. he held you close, and you shushed him quietly. he hoped no one would notice he was still balls deep inside of you, twitching with every little after-orgasm-spasm you had.

“tommy? you here? I’m back from tea!” luda mae called, wandering into the living room. she glanced over you both, and you felt lucky that she was partially blind and had a tendency to keep her glasses dirty. “oh, there you are. and your little sweetheart is here too, it’s good to see you.”

she smiled gently at you, and you nodded and returned the gesture. she glanced over you both, raising an eyebrow. “i don’t usually see you two so snuggled up,” she commented, crossing her arms. then she laughed, “i can see why, though. tommy, your face is as red as a tomato! and just from some cuddle time! you two are so cute,” she laughed, waving you two off. “I’m gonna go start on dinner. y’all should get cleaned up, it’ll be ready quickly. I’m surprised you haven’t taken a shower yet, you did a lot of work today.”

she walked off without even a second glance, leaving you both to let out the breaths you had been holding. you wiggled in his lap, forcing a grunt from his mouth. it made you giggle with amusement.

“good idea with the blanket, i don’t think she suspected anythin’,” you said, patting one of thomas’ legs comfortingly. “keep it there while i pull my pants up…” you added in a whisper, beginning to shuffle so that you could lift yourself off of him. he whined low, pulling you back down against his lap. you felt your face go red, now matching his. “we can’t stay like this.”

“five more minutes…” he muttered in his low, raspy, often unused voice. it made you shudder, and you glanced quick towards the kitchen doorway. luda mae didn’t look like she was coming back, so…

“fine. but then we take a shower like she said, and i get to wash your hair. deal?”

thomas nodded. he got comfortable, nearly purring against you as he settled his chin against your shoulder. within a few seconds, he had managed to fall asleep. this would make things harder, but you couldn’t help but let him rest. he deserved it.

[d10nyx]

sunflower

ft. chris redfield x fem!reader

cw: 18+ content, fluff, ddlg, use of princess parts(sorry) oral(f!recieving), mating press, really sweet chris tbh, pacifier usage, non-sexual intimacy also included, hand holding during sex, p in v, creampie, squirting, multiple orgasms(reader)

a/n: more ddlg w chris... he's so perfect for it sorry... same universe as 'sweet girl' but a complete standalone. ddlg always scares me to write sksjsksjs but hope you all like it <3 feedback appreciated as always :3

word count: 1.6k words

Chris can feel the stress radiating from your body as soon as you walk into the home. He hears you drop the car keys haphazardly on the table. He walks out of his office just as you're hanging your coat up, brows furrowed in frustration with your jaw clenched.

You always got like this after visiting your dad. Chris isn't even allowed to come with you anymore after the last time. He came close to breaking the asshole's nose after he made you cry. He didn't even know why you still put up with him after everything he's done to you, but you always tell Chris ‘family is family’, and he doesn't want to push you.

He'd always be there for you when you got back, anyway. He walks up to you slowly, pulling you into his arms. He can feel the tension in your body, and it makes him frown. He tilts your head up to look at him, his thumb gently rubbing at the crease between your brows until it softens and you're looking up at him with those bright eyes he loves so much.

“There's my baby.” He coos, leaning down to plant kisses all over your face with a smile. He combs his fingers through your hair, carefully untangling a few knots that formed. He finds himself smiling even wider when you finally start to relax in his arms, rubbing your cheek against his chest sweetly.

“Daddy…” You breathe out, hugging him tight. His large hand runs down your back, stopping before rubbing small circles right above your ass. He hums softly, kissing the crown of your head. He knew you needed this when you got like this. Needed him.

“It's okay, baby. Daddy's got you. Let me take care of you, yeah?” He whispers, his breath tickling your hairline as he leans down slightly to be more on your level.

He runs a bath for you, peeling the clothes off of your body slowly. He even puts in your favourite glittery pink bath bomb, despite it being a pain in the ass to clean up. He'd be scrubbing the discolouration off the tub for weeks, and by then, you'd have used it again. An endless cycle, but one he'd endure for as long as he lived if it was for you. He picks you up and sets you in, massaging soap into your body as you sit in the warm water. You melt under his touches, practically purring like a little kitten.

He's careful not to get your hair wet as he washes you, being as gentle as he can. He dries you off with the fluffiest towel in the cabinet and slips you into the comfiest pyjamas you own.  He ends up setting you between his legs in the bedroom with your pacifier in your mouth and hair supplies in his hand, the TV playing Tangled for the fourth time this week. 

It's Wednesday.

He genuinely thinks he might have to get a lobotomy if he hopes to ever get ‘I Have A Dream’ out of his head. He's more than ashamed to admit he's been humming it between sets at the gym. Oh, well. A small price to pay for your happiness.

He cares for your hair as you focus on the movie, detangling any knots gently, just as you’ve taught him to do before. He tries his best to part your hair into two sections, but it ends up being a little messy. At least he learned how to braid. He was quite proud of himself for that one. It only took a dozen YouTube tutorials to figure it out. He carefully twists your hair into two plaits, kissing the nape of your neck once he's done.

“You're so cute, princess.” He coos, his big hands coming to rest on your waist so he can tug you into his lap. He runs his hands under your shirt, gently caressing the skin of your stomach. “I could just eat you up.”

He runs his stubble against your neck, feeling warmth flood his chest as you start to squirm and giggle, teeth clinging onto your pacifier to keep it in place. He laughs softly at the sight, nipping the side of your neck playfully before picking you up, lying you down on your back in the bed. He raises your shirt up, dipping his head down to your stomach.

“Maybe I should. You look so sweet.” He teases, planting kisses all over your soft stomach as you wriggle underneath him. Your paci slips from your mouth as you laugh, your hands coming down to try and push him away by his head. 

“Daddy, you can't eat me!” You say between giggles, kicking your feet out slightly. He doesn't relent, blowing raspberries against your tummy, making you squeal. “You're so silly.”

“Oh, but I can.” He says, grinning against your soft skin. His head trails lower, nudging your clit through the fabric of your pyjama shorts, peeking up at your face as he hears a soft gasp coming from you. “In fact, I thought you liked when daddy did that.”

You don't really get a chance to reply, ‘cause he's grabbing your discarded pacifier and slotting it into your mouth, tapping your hips twice in a gesture that you've come to understand means up.

He slips your shorts and panties off in one motion, his eyes locked onto the sticky string of arousal that connects the gusset of your panties to your pretty cunt as he peels them off. He shudders as he chucks then to the side, his big hands grabbing the fat of your thighs to spread your legs. He dives in, pressing a kiss to the hood of your clit. He chuckles as you whine, the vibrations sending jolts of pleasure up your spine.

“You like it when daddy kisses your princess parts, baby?” His tone is sickly sweet as he speaks just before diving in, tonguing into your entrance to gather up the slick pooling there. All you can do is nod dumbly, biting down on the pacifier in your mouth as you moan around it, your noises muffled by the plastic.

He only ever pauses in fucking you with his tongue to shower you with kisses and praise, talking about how pretty you are as he presses his lips against your tummy and the inside of your thighs. He coos at you and squeezes your hips in his hands, making sure to show you how much he loves you.

He laps eagerly at your release when you finally tense up and come, relishing in the sweet taste that coats his tongue, lips and stubble. He just pulls back and grins, wiping it off with the bottom of his shirt before tugging it up entirely.

Your gaze is locked onto him as he strips, the pacifier in your mouth bobbing as you suck on it. You wriggle slightly on the bed, propping yourself up against the plush pillows so you can watch as he prods at you before slowly sinking into you with a groan.

“You okay, sweetheart?” He says through gritted teeth, doing his best to stay still as your tight heat envelops him. “Not too sensitive?”

“M'good, daddy.” You slur around your paci, your brows furrowed slightly from the stretch of his fat cock. Your thighs are shaking slightly, but he trusts you're telling the truth. His little princess knows better than to lie to daddy.

“Good… good girl.” He hums, running a hand up your side, gripping your waist before he starts to move his hips, slowly fucking into you.  He moves his hands to the back of your knees, pulling your ass flush against his thighs before folding you in half, pressing your knees to your chest by leaning his weight down on you, your legs thrown over his shoulders.

“Fuuuuck.” He hisses, kissing the tip of your nose before pressing his forehead against yours, fucking deep into you with every thrust. He gets so deep like this - filling every inch of you up in a way that has you gasping and whining.

Your pacifier slips from your mouth and drops onto the bed again, one of your hands opening and closing in a grabbing motion. “Hand, daddy.”

His hand finds yours, locking your fingers together and giving it a little squeeze. He smiles softly, his thick length rutting into you as he presses you further into the mattress. He grunts as he feels your walls starting to clamp down on him, his breaths coming out in short pants.

“That's it, cutie. Cum for me.”

“Daddy!” You moan, back arching as your orgasm hits. You squirt all over him, bursts of sticky fluid covering his lower abdomen. It drips down his cock and coats his balls, soaking the sheets underneath you.

“Such a messy baby, huh?” He breathes out, his hips stuttering as you flutter around him, his grip on your hand tightening almost painfully. “Your pretty sheets are all ruined.”

He drops his head into the crook of your shoulder, panting as he bottoms out, shooting thick ropes of cum deep into your pussy. He can't bring himself to pull out, so he pulls you against his body and manoeuvres you so you're lying on top of him without ever leaving you.

“There we go. Such a good girl. My precious angel.” He whispers breathlessly, his chest heaving slightly from the intensity of the orgasm. He runs his hand up and down your back, petting you gently.

“I love you, princess.” He murmurs against the shell of your ear, kissing it lightly.

“Love you more, daddy.”

[femoso-seben]

Task Force 141 X gn Reader

Task force boys meet a myth in their field. Simply a legend.

pt.2

You are a legend. One that does not exist. Simply a myth. You were one of a kind, known and unknown. They’re bets on your existence if you were real or not. You look down at the crowd below you, you have your target in sight. You pull the trigger and the man falls.

You hid behind the wall crawling to the exit and leaving. The crowd below you were freaking out. You slip through the crowd gun dismantled in your backpack. You stroll Through the city and back to your station.

‘The deed is done,’ you text before throwing away the disposable phone into the rumble of a building. You continue walking back to your hotel room. You drop off the backpack and walk away.

Your hair is pulled back and your hands are gloved. No one will remember seeing you, you’re simply a legend. You climb onto the train and travel back to the airport. You pick up the backpack you left in your hotel room.

“How was your business work trip?” You look over to see your roommate on her computer a little preoccupied with school.

“It was good.” You smile setting your bags down and walking to your room. Your room best put it is clean minimalistic, and nearly barren. You unpack your stuff throw all your close into the washing machine and step into the bathroom.

You set a nice warm bath for yourself dropping one of your bath bombs as a little reward for your mission. You lean back and let out a sigh, as the water around you turns a nice shade of red. The floral scent hit you and reminded you you’re home.

“Hey, there’s people here for you.” Your roommate cautiously calls into the bathroom. The door opens and big tall men walk in guns pointing at you.

“Hands up!” One barks at you a glare on their face. You slowly put his hands up and turn to them with a cold bored expression.

“Stand!” You slowly stand up and turn to them, water dripping off your naked form.

“Can I finish my bath? Or do you like staring at my naked body?” You asked with a smirk. The man turns around and sighs.

“You have five minutes!” You roll your eyes and sit back down in the water and sigh. The first minute you sit relax the second minute you get up and unplug the bathtub. You dry yourself off and change clothes.

You open the door to find four men waiting for you. You slowly scanned them, and then turned to your freaked-out roommate. “It’s work related I’ll be back.” You tell her she nods and goes back to her computer and steel glances at the men.

You knew them, of course you did. These were Laswell’s dogs. You scratch the back of your head still damp from the bath. You gesture for them to lead. “John,” you greet them with a nod. The man turns to you a little surprised.

“Lead the way.” You instruct he gives you a cold glare and sneers at you. He took the lead and all three other men walked behind you staring at you with such intensity you thought your heads going to explode.

They shoved you into a car and had one point their gun at you. You fold your arms and look at the person right of you. “Johnny MacTavish. Or should I call you Soap?” You ask him. He looks at you a little shocked.

“You know me?” His Scottish accent is strong and confused.

“Of course, I do my research.”

“For what?” The skull-wearing one asked.

“I was paid to take you all out, paid even more to let you live.” You answer honestly.

“Who?”

“A Russian militia group, your governments paid a hefty penny for your lives.” You explain, they understood.

“You’re a contract killer?”

“I guess. I do the illegal missions the governments don’t want their military to know of.” You explain with a smirk.

They drag you into a warehouse there waiting for you is the woman you know as Kate Laswell. You nod to her and look down at your hands. She looked serious.

“Can I make a call?” You asked. She looks at you with a cold form gaze.

“No.”

“Alright,” You hum and smile at Kate. Kate a woman who you knew of a woman who’s been chasing you down for three years straight.

“Hello L,” she states.

“Hello Kate,” you smile back. She frowns and looks at the men.

“You know us.”

“I do, do you know me?” You smile looking at them with a slight smirk.

“You go by YN, don’t you?”

“It’s a name.”

“Don’t be flaky, is that your name?”

“Of course not, it’s just a name.” You smile crossing your legs and leaning back in your seat.

“Kate Laswell, and Task Force 141, what can I do for you?” You asked tilting your head. They all frown.

“You don’t have any leverages.”

“I believe a single phone call is all I need to change that sentiment.” You spread your arms a sense of calm sets in on you. You had nothing to worry about, everything was perfectly fine.

“And what will a phone call do for you?” Price asked stepping into the light.

“I believe your government wouldn’t want me dead, or in prison.” You mock back with a big frown on your face.

A phone was placed in front of you. You simply called it and told the receptionist the code. She quickly forwarded you to the man you needed to talk to.

“Hello? Yes, I’ve been detained by your task force, end this.” You handed the phone to Kate who took it. Her cold expression changed into one of pure frustration. She silently confirms the caller.

“You’re free to go, YN.”

“What!” Soap yells from behind you. “How is that even possible?”

“Because they’ve been cleared.”

You didn’t move and sat happily in the seat with a small smile, it was content and amused. You look behind you to find all three glaring at you, how did you get out of this? How aren’t you going to jail? Confusion was well in the air.

“Now,” you begin, “what can I do you’re your?” All of them turn to you a little shock.

“What do you mean?”

“You wouldn’t take me in without a reason so, let me ask what do you need from me?” They turn to each other and let either Price or Kate speak up.

“One of your…. Target was a target we needed.”

“Oh?”

“Was it the one in Urzikstan?” You ask tilting your head.

“Yes.” You nod slowly.

“What do you need?”

“Who was he talking to?”

“Russian ultranationalists.”

“How did you know?”

“I recognized their symbol. Their patch.” They nod.

“So you just killed him and left?”

“Yes because my job was done.” From the back, you hear a sigh and turn to see the famous Ghost looking at you with an annoyed look.

“Anything else you notice.”

“Yes, there were missiles being sold and traded.” They froze.

“Too who?”

“Urzikstan terrorist got some missile, while I think the Russian ultranationalist getting support from another source.”

“Anyways I need to get back to my apartment, my roommate must be shitting herself.” You smile standing up.

“Wait.” You turn around to see Kate’s hand outstretched to you.

“I like to commission you.”

“Oh?”

“You want to contract me to this task force?” You ask with a slight smile, a little amusement glint in your eyes.

“What can the legend do for you? Kate Laswell?”

[greynatomy]

vogue

kyra cooney-cross x reader

been in a bit of a writing slump and haven’t written anything until last night when i couldn’t sleep

something a bit different

———

Your eyes flutter open, adjusting to the sunlight that’s peaking through the curtains. Grabbing your phone, seeing as it’s seven in the morning. Rubbing a hand across your face, you sit up with your back leaning against the headboard, you start to record yourself on a camera you were given.

“Hey, guys.” You whisper. “It’s currently seven o’clock and i just woke up. Vogue had asked me to show you all my morning routine. So let’s get started.”

The video cuts to you standing in your bathroom.

“Okay. As you can see, I am now in my bathroom. I gotta still talk quietly though, so hopefully you can hear me.” You grab some things and lay them out in front of you. “So, today is a pretty chill day. I’ve just finished up my tour and I am back to living that domestic life. Since I don’t have any interviews and all that jazz, I’ll just be washing my face with this CeraVe face wash.”

A song plays as you put a headband on to keep your hair off and you wash your face, making sure it suds up nicely.

“Gotta make sure you get every crevice and have it nice and bubbly. I’ve seen other videos of people washing their face, but they’re not? Like I don’t even think they used any soap.” You laugh, rinsing your face with water and wiping it with a towel.

“Okay. Now, I’ve got this moisturizer. Also CeraVe. Love this brand, not sponsored by the way. Once that sets in my skin for a bit, I use this sunscreen that I got from Trader Joe’s. It’s my favorite because it doesn’t leave your face feeling oily.”

As you’re putting your sunscreen on, you fail to notice the door of the bathroom open.

“Darling.”

Turning around, you see your girlfriend slowly shuffling her feet towards you.

“Hey, babe. Finally up are you?”

“Mhm.”

“I’m filming that thing for Vogue. Wanna introduce yourself?”

Kyra pulls out the stool she kept in the bathroom, grabbing your waist to sit you on her lap.

“Oh, yeah.” Kyra is now more awake, now aware of the camera in front of her. “Hello, Vogue. My name is Kyra Cooney-Cross.”

“This is my girlfriend and now it’s her turn to wash her face.” Kyra washes her face as you talk to the camera, getting off her lap for a little while. “She uses the same products I use because she said ‘I know best’ and she didn’t know which to buy.”

Kyra sits back down on the chair so you sit back down on her lap, a routine that the viewers could tell that’s been going on for a while with how fluid the actions were.

“And now she’s going to put whatever products she chooses on my face.”

“Very needy this one is. I usually sit on her lap a different way, but let’s keep it pg.” You put the same products you put on you on her face.”

The video cuts to you in the kitchen.

“Now, it’s time to make breakfast. Kyra isn’t allowed anywhere near the stove because of an incident that happened a while ago.”

“At least I didn’t burn the house down.” Kyra walks up behind you, wrapping her arms around your waist and hold you close. She was now dressed in her training kit.

“But I will be making some avocado toast with an egg for the both of us. This is all we’ve been wanting to eat for breakfast lately so I’m making it again.”

A time lapse shows you and Kyra eating with music playing.

Now back in the bedroom, with clothes all over the bed can be seen.

“Okay. Today Kyra has an open practice meaning that fans are allowed to be there while they practice. I’ve chosen to wear something comfortable so I went with some joggers and one of her jerseys. I was gonna go with a ‘Russo’ jersey but she threw a fit.”

“I did not!” The faint sound of Kyra’s voice was heard.

“She did.” You cup a hand around your mouth, whispering to the camera. “And this bucket hat to hopefully keep me incognito.” You take a step back to show your whole outfit.

The video cuts to you in the backseat of a car.

“We are now on our way to training. I will not be training but they are.” You flip the camera towards your girlfriend, Katie, and Caitlin. “Kyra doesn’t have her license and I refuse to drive on the other side of the road so we’re carpooling! Yay! Guys say ‘hi’ to the people.”

“Hi, people.” “Hey, guys.”

“Katie is the one driving us and Caitlin is the other one.”

“Wow! I’m just the other one?” Caitlin places a hand over her chest, feigned hurt by your words.

“Yup. And that’s really all for my morning routine. I’ll be doing some work on my laptop that I’m bringing and watching all these athletic people workout and make me feel bad about myself. So, yeah. Thanks for coming along this morning. Say ‘bye’ guys.”

“Bye!”