#also this is not a könig blog

[kneelingshadowsalome]

omg what’s cabin!konig? new koooonnnyyy unlocked

Yes, König comes in many forms and he always wants to knock you up. But!

Cabin!König is particularly designed to breed, and he’s very vehement about doing just so.

Hauls you deep into the Alps and shoves you inside this cute cabin that looks minimalistic and weather-beaten on the outside but insanely adorable on the inside. There’s a fireplace and a broad, sturdy hardwood bed (for the purpose of you know perfectly well what...), indoor plumbing for your convenience, an electric oven for you to bake him cookies and pastries (traditional Austrian ones if you wish to pamper and spoil him) and a lot of authentic 19th-century art on the walls, next to the ropes and traps and cast iron pans and pots and wicker baskets that hold woollen blankets in case you get cold.

But you really don’t get a chance to get cold, do you? Because König is on and in you every chance he gets. Man's got a plan, and he has always implemented his strategies and completed his projects with a frightening amount of energy, commitment and willpower. You wake up in the morning to his heated cuddles and soft whines, knowing that you’re about to get taken from behind – again. He’s soft and slow at first, cuddlefucking and spooning you like you’re the best thing in his entire world... but you know it’s all just a warm-up. The thrusts get deeper and more intense as the morning session goes on, until both of you are fully awake and König gets into his full breeding mood. It’s the same thing in the evening, but this time, he’s on top and looks you deep in the eyes as he makes love to you while your toes curl and point to the ceiling. Nothing but the fireplace and some candles lighting the cabin with flickering, warm tones: he’s a romantic soul underneath all that callous soldier’s discipline.

During the day, König has many responsibilites outside: he has to fix the roof of some shed and walk the perimeter to check that no one has found their way here, that no one is disturbing his mating season that lasts from May till August. You know nothing about his hikes, but he has even set bear traps all over the place, and not for the purpose of catching bears…

He of course tempted you here by saying you deserve a holiday and that the mountains would be a good, non-stressful environment to finally try and get you pregnant. He has been talking about wanting to have babies ever since you met: actually, he brought the subject up on your first date - to your horror and intrigue - wanting to know if you would ever want kids and if you were in it for the long haul because he was sick of dating just for some shallow, casual fun.

You could never have known that you would get folded into a mating press every day after only a few months of your acquintance, but here you are: getting stuffed full of potent cum every day, multiple times per day, because König has decided that you are the perfect wife material and the perfect mother for his kids.

He can come off as a little too intense, even rough at times, but he is in fact a very gentle lover and offers impeccable aftercare. His hormones are through the roof here in this sweet little cabin with his sweet little future wife-to-be. König is fully in his element when he gets to walk in the brisk mountain air and then come “home” to the delicious scent of warm buns or apple pie, to the sweet scent and feel of you.

Cuddles you after sex like it’s equally as important as the deed of getting you pregnant. He’s not just trying to apologize for being so needy and urgent with you, he’s actually bonding with you everytime you have sex. It’s like a ritual for him to hold you close and take in your soft panting and warm cheeks after he just made you cum no less than two or three times. You’re still not sure if this is a good idea, and you’re not sure if this man is even completely sane… But he sure as hell is adamant in making you feel good, providing for you and giving you the best sex of your entire life ❤️

[wordstome]

bucca i’m legally obligated to show you these könig fanarts from my fave artist

https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZT8Vt5vNU/

https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZT8VtX8ew/

tiktok's website tagline is Make Your Day and you just fucking did, anon. oh my god. you are so legally obligated.

let's make out anon (THANK YOU FOR SHARING YOUR ART WITH THE WORLD NURIN @nudeerahtryingherbest)

[ghouljams]

Witch does some magic, Fae!Price remembers why witches are so dangerous

this is a longer one(1.4k words), dealing with a lot of spell work, and mostly OC stuff.

One of your friends is laying on your kitchen table. Arms folded to cushion their head, half asleep as you scrub their back with salt. You already washed the table down, chalked your largest circle on the floor, made sure your herbs were prepped. You really don’t know why you keep doing this to yourself. You let your eyes wander to look out your back door, peaking across your garden to your back gate.

“I can come back if you’re waiting on someone,” You friend mumbles, you shake your head. You grab a washcloth and dip it in the copper bowl of new moon water to rinse the salt off their back.

“You’re fine, I want to get this done today.” They hum, sitting up enough to finish their last swallow of tea before passing you the mug.

“You’re always so serious about this.”

“You pay me to be serious about it.” You step out of the circle to put their drained mug in the sink and finish your own. Hyssop tea isn’t your favorite but better safe than sorry. You grab another copper bowl and a small sachet from your cupboard. Another hum from your friend. “Where’d you get the baby ginger?” You ask, removing the small humanoid root from its sachet and placing it in the new bowl.

“Trade secret,” You try not to think too hard about it. There are a lot of things about your friend you try not to think too hard about. “Figure that should be enough to mix a few sessions worth of ash.”

You nod, casting another glance out your back door. You need it open for the sun, for the tie to summer to keep the room warm, but you also need your garden free of distractions. You twist open the jars you’d pulled. Morning Glory, Comfrey, Angelica, Marjoram, Ginger, fuck what are you missing?

“Ruda.” Your friend tells you, their eyes closed peacefully.

“You hate Ruda.” You leave the circle again to grab the herb. It feels like you’ve got everything but the kitchen sink in this bowl.

“The dragon’s blood will cover it,” You pause, at the edge of the circle, stomach twisting, “I can smell it.” Your fingers tighten on your jar, you hate when they do this, talk to you like they know what you’re thinking. Especially when they know better. You step over the chalk circle and deposit a few pieces of ruda in the bowl. You’re quick to strike a match and light the mixture, letting it burn down as you center yourself.

The sound of the wind rustling through the trees, the light herbal small of your garden, the warmth of summer, you do your best to keep your focus on the earth. Stable. Grounded. Your herbs crackle as they burn, the smoke finding its way out your back door, hardly bothering to be contained by your circle. Your house is silent, your fingers are warm and buzzing with potential.

Everything is easier after this, or faster. Magic always seems faster once you set it free to run. You mix the herbal ash with a little alcohol and some chips of dragon’s blood resin to make ink. You clean your needles and set your intention. You trace the patterns already on your friend’s skin and find the breaks that need to be mended, and snap on some gloves.

You poke new lines of honeycomb across their shoulder. Dip your needle in the ink and fix the pentacle on their spine, the salt, the concentric circles. Hyssop, lavender, parsley, you sink comfortably into your work tattooing herbs and wards. You mind is clear, present and gone at the same time. It’s comfortable here. Your friend sleeps as you work, not even twitching as you wipe at the ink. 

You don’t think of it as what it is. Blood magic. Magic you shouldn’t be doing, wouldn’t be doing if it was anyone but them. Magic made just for this singular person, just for their needs. You mumble to yourself as you work, watching the pentacles turn, the sword glint. The honeycomb drips onto the lavender making you wipe at it to check that your lines are all connected. It’s complicated magic, a spell you’ve been weaving and maintaining for years. You trace your fingers around the unbroken ring at the center, the dark abyssal black that fills it. The sink.

You pull back and inspect your work, roll your shoulders, check the time. You pat your friend’s shoulder to wake them up before spraying the fresh tattoo with green soap. They groan and stretch out over your table.

“Feels like a fucking rock on my back.” They grumble. You hum, cleaning your work station to give them room to sit up.

“Gotta charge it, that’s what the sun’s for.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know the drill.” You help them up, careful to avoid breaking the circle or knocking over any of your herbs. They wave you off as they exit your house to your garden, sinking onto the little stool you’d set out. You hover close by, just to be sure they don’t faint. It’s happened before. You glance at the gate when they do, feeling your stomach flip when you catch sight of Price watching you.

Your friend waves you off, shooing you towards your distraction. It’s good you didn’t notice him sooner, it might have broken your concentration. The last thing you need is for a spell this intricate to backfire.

“You have a client,” Price nods at your friend, you don’t bother looking back at them, sure they’re enjoying the sun.

“You haven’t been around in a while,” You counter. Wincing a little at yourself. Truth for a truth. Though one is more an embarrassing acknowledgement that you noticed his absence. Price smiles at that before covering his mouth, trying to spare a little of your pride.

“Did you miss me?”

“No.” You say quickly. He nods, it’s cute the way you lie to him. “Did you need something?”

“Just wanted to check up on you,” He tells you, you raise a brow, clearly not buying it. The “and” that should follow that statement hangs in the air between you. He’s not impolite enough to impose himself on your hospitality when you have another guest. Especially not when you’re working.

It’s strange though, if he hadn’t seen you bringing your client out, he might not have noticed them at all. They look human, but.

But they don’t smell like anything. They don’t have any presence at all. You smell like burnt herbs, ink, residual magic falls off of you and threads through his. It’s terribly distracting. You’re always distracting. Enough to keep his attention off of whatever is in your garden.

“Well, here I am. No need to drop by just to see me.” Price respectfully begs to differ. He has every reason to see you. Your sincerity in the statement doesn’t go unnoticed.

“I thought you didn’t deal with creditors.” Price leans away from the threshold as you turn to talk to your client. He hadn’t even registered their presence.

“Go wait in the house if you’re all charged,” You tell them quietly. Charged. Price knows that term, what were you charging? The whole person? Your client shrugs and turns back towards the house.

Price’s stomach rolls, and he has to stop himself from taking a step back. Fae trap. The blossoming tattoo on their back hums and moves, alive with captured and contained magic. A seal on the client’s presence, a ward, a living hex breaker, all wild fed magic channeled through your spell work. Not human, just disguised as one. He can feel the hooks spinning off of them now that he knows what to look for. The fae itself doesn’t seem too dangerous, but the spell on their back...

You look up at him so innocently. Sweet as can be, waiting for him to take his eyes off your retreating client. “It’s good, right?” You ask, and he knows exactly what you’re asking. Knows that you know exactly what you’ve created.

You laugh, and wave your hand, “Not a chance, too much upkeep. I’d burn through the ink faster than they do.”

“Bloody hell,” Price swears, unsure what else to say to dislodge the knot his stomach has twisted itself into, "So you let a hunter in but not me?

"Hunters are stupid," you look over your shoulder towards the house, "think with their stomachs, easier to guard against. You on the other hand..." You look back at him, it's clearly a compliment, not one you're willing to say aloud, but he'll take it.

“You don’t have one of those on you, do you?” Price asks, a mixture of pride and apprehension rising in his throat.

[t4llhum4n]

See, I'd watch a playthrough of MWII, but I don't want to ruin my headcanon that König sounds like Till Lindemann.

[roadkilli-art]

*ringing comically large bell* KÖNIG SLUTS COME GET SOME

the other version of this got flagged immediately so 🤷

[itsagrimm]

Love how we all agree that König has a nickname for his S/O but it's written Maus and not maus. All nouns in German are capitalised in the beginning no matter where they are within the sentence structure. Just use the nickname like you would use a regular name.

[clementine-thedestroyer]

Hey guys! So, this blog is getting really close to 500 followers- which is crazy- and I wanted to do something a bit special in celebration. I'm not quite sure what I want to do for it yet, so I figured I'd make this poll and get y'all's opinions on what you guys think I should do.

I had a few ideas, so thought I'd share them and see what you guys would prefer.

The first idea is sort of a sick fic to do with Price's exposure to the gas in the MW3 campaign and the aftermath- from getting a medical discharge to learning to live with the permanent damage that was done to his body. It would be pretty hurt-comfort towards Price with reader as his wife/established partner reader.

The second option would be a collection of 5 (hehe, get it? 5 for 500?) smut-shots with 5 different characters- probably my usuals (141) plus König, Valeria, or others.

The other option would be some sort of request game- where I'II make a list of prompts and you'll be able to choose three in any combination to send an ask with. I kinda like this idea because I have trouble coming up with ideas sometimes, like I just need a prompt to kick start my brain into writing mode.

Of course, if you have any ideas or suggestions of your own, I would love to hear them- please do share them with me cause I'm not exactly sure how you all feel about these.

[kneelingshadowsalome]

Imagine stealing someone's phone and this is what you find 💀

[noxacious]

I’ve seen too many fics of people being nice to König and I need change this

[b1rds3ye]

Can you make a fic / short headcanon of how the COD men reacts to reader riding those bull mechanical? Their usual bar/pub has installed a new attraction which is that bull mechanical. Either they dared reader or reader wanted to try to ride, depends on the character. You know how those bulls move makes the rider look like they’re grinding?? Yeah I wanna know how the guys reacts to that 👀

OHOHOHOHO GOT IT thank you for sending in the request!! This is the first one this blog has gotten 🥳🥳 I hope you enjoy~

Ride On

The local bar has installed a mechanical bull for an extra activity among the drunk and whimsical. One day off duty, you decide to give it a go and have some fun, and it seems the boys are enjoying it just as much as you.

Characters: Captain John Price, Simon “Ghost” Riley, Johnny “Soap” MacTavish, Kyle “Gaz” Garrick, König

GN!Reader w/ no physical descriptions (except you're shorter than König)

Word Count: 2.5k (~500 each)

Genre: Fluff, Spice, established relationship

Warning: Spicy (but no smut), 18+/MDNI,  awkward dialogue (it’s the cutest thing during flirty time fight me)

A/N: I don’t even write stuff that’s mildly spicy so I hope I did a decent job - also apparently mechanical bulls can do some real damage oh my god???

Captain John Price

On duty Price may be your direct superior but off duty you were more than free to do as you please even in his presence, he had always been clear about that. So he knew you were up to something when you sauntered up to him asking him for permission to go on the mechanical bull in the middle of the bar

He could only stare at your deceptively innocent smile for a moment before repeating the mantra that you could do what you want, his free hand automatically reaching into his pocket for a smoke as you strutted to the mechanical bull. You were going to be the death of him

He’s sure this is what emperors felt like in the days of old. Food, drinks, some very enticing entertainment and Price feels like he’s on cloud nine. Sitting by a table, he lounges back, thighs spread as he takes up the entire space of his seat and then some, feeling like a king as he watches you on the mechanical bull. He does not move, save for the occasional shift as his pants tighten

When you’re done riling him up, Price stays put as you approach him again. He can’t hide the incredible smugness he feels when the hungry eyes of strangers trail you, only to look at him in envy when they realise you’re already taken. He isn’t bothered by any of their stares, he can easily give any of them a piece of his mind

“You’ve got guts, love,” Price huffed out a puff of smoke. He remained seated by his table while you stood beside him, his face directly in line with your torso. His gaze travelled along every line and curve of your body that was so tantalisingly close, he could feel the body heat emanating from you. He stifled the urge to lick his drying lips.

“I did a good job though, right?” You beamed. He quirked an eyebrow at your sickeningly sweet voice. So you were going to keep up this charade, as if your face was only flushed from the physical exhaustion of remaining upright on the automaton and not from being so close but so painfully far away from him. Even in the darkness, he could see how your pupils swallowed your irises but he chose not to comment on it - he wasn’t faring any better.

“Passable. You’ve got two choices, sergeant.”

You swallowed, a shiver travelling down your spine as Price tilted his head down, idly extinguishing his cigar against the ashtray.

“Either you go back on the bull for some further training, give everyone here a sight for their sore, miserable eyes…”

Price regards you again, head up so that you could finally see his full face. Like a man lost for days in the desert, he gazed at you as if you were an oasis. Eyes lit up in awe, full of reverence, yet glazed over in carnal hunger.

“Or we leave this pub and you give me a private encore.”

Simon “Ghost” Riley

The instant he saw the new attraction he instinctively groaned under his breath. He already knew that you, Soap and Gaz will be provoking each other for some sort of competition. He’ll interfere if anyone seems uncomfortable but if it’s all smiles and laughs he’ll just quietly watch on with a mirth in his eyes reserved only for you and the task force (he will make a quip about you lot behaving like muppets though)

That being said, he already knows how suggestive a mechanical bull can look. When it’s decided that you’ll give it a go, Simon can only exhale slowly out of his mask, mentally preparing for an unexpected trial of restraint

He slinks back into the darkness of the bar, one with the shadows. His eyes shine like jewels as they reflect the treasure that is you. He drinks in the sight, committing it to memory. If from the bull you manage to see him in the gloom, his gaze is so intense it can single-handedly throw you off the automaton

Even off duty, he’s good at keeping his composure. When you return to him, you almost mistook him for being completely unfazed by your little stunt on the bull. But his voice is a little gruffer, the muscles in his throat straining with every syllable. He shows his neediness through his presence, you won’t be alone for the rest of the night as he accompanies you for even the smallest of errands

Rubbing your shoulder that was bruised from falling off of the bull, you beelined for the rest of the task force, only to get unexpectedly pulled towards the corners of the bar where the lights could not reach.

“Simon?” Your voice is barely above a whisper as you feel his hand splayed across your spine. He was never big on public displays of affection, he was possessive in that all of his love will be seen by you only. Daring a move like this has you turning to him in concern, but he didn’t seem uncomfortable in the slightest.

“We’ve got a problem.”

“And that is?”

Simon doesn’t reply, not verbally. He takes your hips in his hands, you can tell he’s trying his best to be gentle but his fingertips dig ever so slightly into your skin. Guiding you back to stand just in front of him, you grunted as you felt a hefty weight against your backside. Now that is a big problem indeed.

“Need you,” he rasps, voice so thick with air they were barely discernible words. You allowed him to pull you further against him, a guttural groan escaping him. “Fuck, didn’t know you could ride like that.”

“I’m a soldier of many talents,” you replied. He huffs against his face mask, digging his face into the crook of your neck. “I suppose I could go again. Just, not on the bull.”

Simon’s lips curved into a smile that warped the mask against your skin. His hands on your hips tighten, you won’t be escaping him anytime soon.

Johnny "Soap" MacTavish

When Johnny’s eyes settled on the mechanical bull, he then took a brief glance at you and his mind went places. This absolute menace is conjuring up a million and one ways to get you on that bull ASAP (with your wholehearted consent, of course)

He’ll do anything, making a dare, teasing you, trying to make a bet, just so he can see you mount that thing. He’s a dedicated man, once he has a goal he’s seeing it through, no matter how many playful slaps and lighthearted glares you give him. He’ll even set an example and go first - he’ll be flattered as hell if he can get you out of all people riled up

Johnny thinks he can handle it, but he’s always overestimating himself when it comes to you. He can’t play off how you’re bothering him as your hips slide forward and back against the saddle. He can only clear his throat uncomfortably and choke out a fake laugh when the rest of the 141 comment on how quiet he’s become

He bit off more than he can chew, he thought he was the smooth one for being blessed with such a sight but he’s finding himself more bewitched by you by the second. When you get off the bull he gives you a feeble punch on the shoulder, trying to act like he’s alright but really he’s completely at your mercy, hovering around you near begging you to give him attention

You didn’t even have time to greet him as Johnny pulled you away from the rest of the task force, down into a quiet corridor of the pub. His silence was unnerving, you asked him if something was wrong but his only response was his lips against yours. When you reciprocated, the Johnny you knew was back with you, smiling into the kiss with an exhale of eagerness into your mouth as he traps you against the wall with his body. His weight against you, it was already hard to get a breath in as he claimed your lips again and again and again. But what truly made you gasp was the hardness that brushed against your thigh. It was initially so brief, you could credit it as a phantom of your own lust, but as Johnny got bolder, it rested permanently against your upper leg.

Now that he made his predicament clear, he reluctantly pulled away from you, just enough for him to speak. His heaving breaths burned against your skin, no more than his azure eyes that bored into yours.

“I got another thing you can ride, aye?”

You burst into laughter as you gave him a playful shove on the chest. It did nothing push him off of you, his smile widening at your countenance.

“Johnny, that was awful.”

“I ain’t lyin’. My li'l MacTavish needs some help.”

“I swear to god I’m leaving you.”

“You know you love me. Now are you gonna help me or no?”

Kyle “Gaz” Garrick

Kyle has a playful streak, when he sees you eyeing the new attraction he’ll approach you with a mischievous glint in his eyes as he slides some cash to you. “This twenty says you won’t last five seconds on that.”

And with that, a light-hearted competition started. Kyle’s intentions were genuinely innocent, he just wanted to have some fun beyond drinking the night away. After you gave the bull a go he was wholly planning to try after you to show you how it’s done - and possibly impress you with superior balancing powers

It started off fun as you laughed at the odd movements of the bull under you and Kyle smiled with you. He’s willing to give up that twenty as you were clearly having fun

What he did not expect was how as the mechanical bull became more erratic, bucking indiscriminately in all directions that the sight seemed more… suggestive. A yelp of surprise from you has him situating himself behind a table, ensuring no one can see the growing issue below his hips

He dares a look at the rest of the task force who are taking in the sight innocently. Soap is shouting encouragements like a battle cry, Price pulls a face that’s a mix of amused and impressed, Ghost offers a single dip of the head in respect and now Kyle feels dirty, guilt mixing with arousal into a sinful concoction that drips down his tightening pants

As you returned back to the task force, Kyle immediately came up behind you. His arms wrapped around your waist, he sat his head on your shoulder, cheek against yours. With his entire body smothering yours, his whole being moved with every inhale and exhale of yours as you tried to recollect yourself after that exhausting ordeal of the mechanical bull.

“Getting touchy’s not going to make me forget about that twenty, Kyle,” you chided with a smile. You hear a little hmph as one of his hands dip into your pocket, resting over your hip bone. He slips the note in but his hand stays there, his thumb tracing over the wrinkles in your pants.

“You looked real nice up there, you know,” he mumbled into your ear before giving it a peck, arms tightening around you possessively.

“Feels like you enjoyed it,” you whispered, voice disappearing as you noticed something firm pressing against your ass. Your laugh came out far too weak. “Is that a pistol or are you happy to see me?”

He chuckled, husky and restrained, too distracted to reply. His hand in your pocket was becoming more animated, rubbing at your skin. Even through the fabric, you can feel how hot he is, only getting warmer as he gets more antsy, his free hand now tugging and teasing at your shirt.

Kyle spares a look at the rest of the task force, clearly distracted with their own drinking and antics.

“Do you think they’ll notice if we leave?”

“... No, let’s go.”

König

König will never ask you to go on the mechanical bull because he’d never go on it himself. Putting on a show for a whole lot of strangers in a pub? Potentially embarrassing himself in front of said strangers, his allies and you? The thought already fills him with dread and he is empathetic to never ask for such a thing from you. That being said, when it’s established you’re more than happy to give the bull a go, he’s not going to stop you

He knew how suggestive a mechanical bull can look but he figured he could handle it; he did not reach the rank of colonel by giving in to every temptation. But he should have known better when it came to you, your mere existence making him feel like he lost all composure and combat experience

Upon noticing the lustful stares of others, König doubles as a bodyguard. He slowly stalks around the bar, using his hulking figure to strategically block the view of you for others. He also takes note of anyone who seems a little too fixated on you, not hesitating to send a glare their way

Once you lose to the bull, he waits by the edge of the ring, taking your hand to escort you back to your friends. He does it both to be a caring partner for you, but also he’s preening as onlookers visibly deflate upon realising that if they want to get to you, they have to go through him

König’s hand was tight around yours, you could feel it occasionally twitch, aware of his own strength and trying to loosen his hold on you.

“Entschuldigung, mein Schatz,” he grumbled. “You wanted the night here, but I must leave.”

“Why?”

König turned his head away in embarrassment, but you noticed his eyes dipped lower for a split second. When you followed his gaze, you took a moment to pride yourself for getting your partner so riled up. It was only broken when he gently took your chin with his free hand, tilting it up - or just anywhere away from his growing predicament.

“It is embarrassing,” he muttered. “You were just having fun, but I am here… needing.”

“Not at all,” you smirked. “I wanted you to notice me.”

“I am always watching you, Schatz,” König whispered. He was getting bolder - or perhaps more desperate - with every word, the hand on your chin moving down to settle on one of your hips. You tilted your hips into his grip and the consequent breath he emitted was forceful and ragged. “I did not think such a machine could be so… crude.”

“But you liked the sight, right?” Your voice was smug as you pulled his face down to be in line with yours. You now had a perfect view of his eyes that were alight with lust, pupils blown so wide you could not distinguish if it was the gaze of a predator or prey.

“Zu viel.”

Call of Duty Masterlist

[konigsblog]

Maybe some college au with nerd! Virgin! König?

His cock is so big but he doesn’t know how to use it :( once you his virginity he somehow makes you squirt

Or whatever :P

(Also I love your blog sm 🫶)

tw: noncon, dubcon, intoxication, virgin!könig, nerd!könig

most women don't make it to the bedroom with him due to his size. not that he's never been in a relationship, but it's never went as far for him to lose his virginity. all of this made him aggressive; easily irritated. and because he never made the first move, always focusing on his studies, that meant he never got out often.

people would find him odd; constantly listening to metal music, loud enough you could hear it through his headphones, whilst relaxing. i guess he just never found his crowd, those with similar interests with him. you, on the other hand, didn't see whatever everybody else was seeing. they were seeing a freak, whilst you saw a sweet, smart boy... or atleast at first.

getting into a relationship with nerd!könig meant that he was easily jealous — yet never admitted it was him, his insecurities. it was other people, not you! don't worry, mäuschen, he's protecting you. what fun will you have with other college boys when you could be fucking your ass back on his dick underneath his desk? on your knees and hands, with him on the edge of his seat, studying with his hard dick out. his pink tip leaked and weeped out into you, feeling as you fucked your ass back against him. you honestly understood what he meant by being a virgin, he was too much! :(

you didn't tell him this though, he had enough insecurities. instead you made an attempt at easing yourself down onto bigger dildos each day, sometimes his instead, in an attempt to try take him whole atleast one day. :((

and when you came back from the parties he told you not to go to, he would ignore you. even when you were desperate for an orgasm, you'd sob into his knee underneath his table and suck him off, gagging uncontrollably and making a sticky mess with his cum and saliva drooling from your mouth. of course, he'd tease you for slobbering all over him drunkenly, whimpering at his harsh tone as he studied rather than giving you the reaction he knew you wanted...

[starstruckmiraclekitty]

Hi! I’ve recently stumbled upon your blog and have fallen in love with it! I was wonder if you could do 141+Konig with a fem virgin s/o? HC or a little one shot- whatever you have time for! Thank you so much! 😊

Thank you SO much for your kind words!! Yes, I can absolutely do this, I've had a few requests for this one. I did a blurb/HC for this, hope it's okay!!🩷🙂

Losing Your Virginity To 141 Boys + König (F! Reader)

Warnings: p in v sex, mentions of oral (f receiving), swearing, cream pie, mentions of pain/discomfort

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Simon Ghost Riley-

So SO incredibly gentle with you

It's not often this man has sex, and he takes it very seriously, so he was quite frankly honored when you wanted your first time to be with him

Will spend as MUCH time as he feels is necessary to prep you. Not only is he quite...gifted down there...but it's also your first time and he's terrified to hurt you

Will constantly whisper praises throughout the night, telling you how beautiful you are, and how well you're doing

Treats you like an angel when you're done, will hold you close, get you a snack, whatever you want, he'll provide it

~

"Promise I'll go slow. Let me know if it hurts too much, and I'll stop." He turned your face toward him gently, his face deadly serious.

"I trust you, Si." You gave him a warm smile before leaning forward to place your lips on his.

He leaned back and cupped your cheek gently, his eyes not leaving yours as he lined himself up with your entrance and pushed himself in slowly.

You let out a silent scream, your eyes squeezing shut as the stretch from him burned at your cunt. It was unlike anything you'd ever felt before, and you knew it was also due to the fact that he was larger than average.

Simon watched you carefully as he began to pepper soft kisses all over your skin. He was a patient man and would remain still for as long as it took for you to be ready.

"Y-you can move, Si." You breathed out after a moment, as the burn started to fade.

He gave a small grunt of affirmation, as he slowly pushed himself all the way in you, eliciting a loud moan from you. Simon had to take a moment to collect himself as he was now fully sheathed inside you, your walls hugging his cock in such a way that made it nearly impossible for him to not cum instantly.

"Bloody fucking hell. This pussy was made for me." The words slipped out of his mouth before he could stop them, and his eyes flew open, landing on you. You gave a small giggle as your cheeks flushed a deep red.

"I'm all yours, Simon." You stated matter of factly, pulling his face down to latch your lips on his once more.

Unable to control himself, Simon's hands flew to your waist as he picked up his pace slightly, desperate to make the both of you cum. He watched as your face scrunched together, your mouth falling open slightly in pleasure.

"That's my pretty girl. Taking me so well." He praised, his cock now pounding in and out of your pussy desperately.

You felt a warm sensation building in your belly as your toes began to curl, and your back began to arch. "Simon, I'm.. I'm."

"Let go, sweetheart, I've got you." He cooed, dipping his head down to latch his mouth onto one of your perked nipples.

With one final jut of his hips, you were sent over the edge as your orgasm rippled through you, causing you to tremble underneath Simon.

Simon did his best to help you ride out your orgasm before focusing on his, but the way your walls were hugging at him made him lose his composure. He gave a final lazy thrust into your soaked cunt, before releasing his seed inside you. A shiver coarsed through your body, as you felt his cock pulse inside your walls.

It took a moment for the two of you to regain your composure before Simon looked down at you, a proud smile lining his face. "You were so fucking good, sweetheart. Are you feeling okay?"

You gave a firm nod, a sleepy smile making its way to your lips as you pulled Simon down onto you. "Thank you, Simon. I'm glad it was you."

Simon's heart melted at your soft spoken words as he pressed a sweet kiss to your cheek. "I'm happy it was me too, Y/N. I love you."

Johnny Soap MacTavish-

If you're really nervous about it, he'd be the type to make light-hearted jokes to lighten the mood

He has quite a bit of experience, but he will never, ever make you feel bad about not having any/minimal experience

Will take it seriously, but tries to make it fun for you

He is the BEST at foreplay. If you're new to it, he'll try nearly everything with you

Won't start anything unless he knows you're 100% sure that you want to

~

You let out a small whimper of pain as he pushed himself inside you, cringing slightly at the sound of wetness emitting from your pussy. Johnny was quick to catch on, and his brows furrowed in concern.

"I ever tell you the time I watched Simon fall down the stairs? Man was piss drunk and proceeded to curse each and every stair once he got back up." Johnny chuckled, as he whispered in your ear. "Funniest shit I've ever seen."

You let out a small giggle, Johnny successfully drawing your attention away from the pain. He was able to slip himself fully inside your walls while he placed loving kisses to your skin.

"Johnny." You moaned out, your nails digging into the skin of your lover's back.

"I know, lass. You're doing so well." He cooed, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "I'm gonna start moving, is that okay?"

You nodded as your nails continued to dig into his skin, the burn from his cock now fading, being replaced with pure toe curling pleasure.

Letting out a loud moan, you arched your back slightly as Johnny began a slow pace, his cock slowly massaging at your walls. "S-so good Johnny."

Johnny was trying his best to focus on not cumming, but you were making it incredibly difficult for him. Between your soft moans, and the way your cunt was squeezing his member, Johnny had to pour every ounce of self control he had into making sure you were taken care of first.

His hand slipped between the two of you as his fingers latched into your clit, circling at it vigorously. "You're so beautiful you know that? Can't believe you're all mine."

You let out a guttural moan as his cock slammed into you, his fingers not relenting their assault on your clit. "A-All yours, Johnny."

"That's right, lass." He chuckled, taking in the fucked out look on your face. He picked up his pace slightly, his fingers matching the pace he set with his thrusts.

You hummed in response, your body tightening from your oncoming orgasm, as your nails started to form crescents on Johnny's skin. "So close, Johnny."

"Atta girl, cum for me then."

~

Later that night, Johnny takes you to shower with him as the two of you share in endless laughter. He makes you feel like you are the only woman on the planet for him, and makes you feel so incredibly loved.

König-

Honestly? Definitely the most gentle out of all of these guys

He's very conscious of his size so he goes extra slow with you

Like Simon, he'll prep you until he feels you're ready for him (which may take a bit)

Will ask you at least a half dozen times if you're sure, more specifically if you're sure you want it with him (he's still quite self-conscious)

Will adorably curse in German

~

"Maus..are you sure?" König cradled your face gently, as his cock teased at your soaked entrance. He'd spent the better part of 30 minutes with his head between your thighs prepping you with his tongue until he felt you were wet enough for him.

"Yes, Kö. I want this. I want this with you." You gave him a firm nod as you enveloped your arms around his neck.

He pressed a loving kiss to your lips as he slowly pushed himself into you. He let out a loud groan against your lips, as your walls hugged his thick cock in a vice-like grip. You let out a small whimper, as you tighetend your hold around his neck.

"Does..does it hurt?" He asked timidly. You hissed slightly in response, the stretch of his cock nearly being too much. König remained still, not daring to move an inch until you gave him the okay to do so.

You patted him on the back lightly, signaling to him it was okay to move. He moved painstakingly slow, pulling himself out of you completely, before pushing back into your velvety walls.

You felt like his cock was splitting you open. He was a large man in every aspect, and you felt the tip of him nearly kissing your cervix. Once König had seen that you weren't in pain any longer, he felt comfortable picking up the speed of his thrusts.

"Heilige Scheiße, you feel so good, Maus." He whimpered in your ear as he pressed soft kisses to your neck.

"Kö!" You cried out as he began to hit a spot within you that had you seeing stars. You'd never felt so full in your life.

"Are you doing okay?" He asked, moving your chin so that you faced him.

You gave him a weak nod, unable to keep your eyes open as a tired smile made its way to your face.

~

König made sure that night that you were taken care of before him. After the two of you had finished, he'd carried you to the bathroom, drawing a warm bath for you. The two of you soaked in the tub for nearly an hour, as he massaged at your flesh gently, whispering sweet nothings into your ears.

He was quite possibly the best person you ever could ask for, to be your first.

John Price-

He's gentle, but he doesn't treat you like a porcelain doll

100% will try to make it all about you

If you're comfortable with it, he'll definitely start talking dirty to you, whispering filthy things in your ear as he slowly fucks you

He's decent at aftercare, too. Will draw you a bath, help clean you up, and cuddle you afterward

It will take everything in him not to pounce on you again if he sees bruises from him littering your body. He doesn't want to push your limits

"It's going to hurt a little at first, baby girl. I promise I'll take care of you, though."

John grabbed both of your hands, interlocking them with his own above your head. He nuzzled his face into your neck, softly nipping at the flesh there as he started to ease his way into your pussy.

"Fucking hell, love. You're so tight." He gasped out, his hands squeezing at yours in a desperate attempt to ground himself. It didn't hurt as much as you'd anticipated it to, only feeling a slight sting as your lover fully sheathed his cock inside of you.

He started at a slow pace, watching your features intently. Once he saw no sign of discomfort, he began to speed up slightly as his eyes fell between the two of you. He felt a warmth spread throughout his midsection as he watched your pussy swallowing him whole, a sight he wanted to burn into his brain to keep for all of eternity.

"John!" You whined, your nails digging into his arms as he continued his pace. It felt like nothing you'd ever experienced, and you wanted more of it. "Faster, please."

John gave a dark chuckle before complying. He could never say no to you, especially not when you asked like that. He could feel your walls flutter around him, and he knew you were close.

"You going to be a good girl, and cum with me?" He asked, grabbing your jaw slightly as your legs squeezed at his sides.

You were close, and you could feel your orgasm approaching rapidly as you gave him a lazy nod. "Please."

Price gave a loud groan as your walls clamped down on him. Unable to prolong his orgasm any longer, he gave a few lazy thrusts before spilling himself inside of you.

You let out a breathy moan, still reeling from your orgasm as John placed a wet kiss to your sweaty forehead. "You were so fucking good, baby girl."

He slowly peeled himself away from you, sitting up slightly at the end of the bed. You fully were expecting him to get up off the bed to grab a towel, but what you were not expecting was him to line his face with your seeping cunt. He gave a chuckle before running his tongue along your folds, collecting the remnants of both your orgasms.

"Be a good girl, and let me clean you up, yeah?"

Kyle Gaz Garrick-

VERY romantic about it

Treats you to a fancy dinner first, gets you very comfortable in the bed before he starts anything

Will get your consent at least twice before proceeding

Keeps checking in on you to make sure you're comfortable

Will constantly whisper sweet nothings in your ear throughout the night, making you feel like the most beautiful person on the planet

The BEST at aftercare. Will get a warm towel for you to clean you up, and will cuddle you until you both fall asleep

~

"You're so beautiful, Y/N." Kyle whispered into your ear as he rubbed his cock through your sopping folds. "Are you ready?"

You swallowed thickly, nodding your head at your boyfriend. You'd heard the stories of how painful sex could be for your first time, but you trusted Kyle deeply. You clutched your hands to his shoulders as he sunk his hard cock into you.

The burn was overwhelming at first, and it felt like he was tearing you open. "Kyle."

"Are you okay?" He asked, struggling to keep his composure. You were tighter than he'd expected you to be, and it'd been a while since he'd had sex. "I can stop, baby, just gotta tell me."

"No, just... just give me a sec." You shook your head, your eyes still squeezed shut. You inadvertently clenched your walls down on him, causing him to groan out softly.

"Am I hurting you?" You asked, your eyes flying open.

"No, no, no. You just feel really good, babe." He chuckled, placing a kiss to your brow. Your cheeks burned slightly, at the clear lack of your experience in the bedroom.

"Are you okay if I move a little?" He asked, his eyes softening as they met yours.

"Yes." You breathed as your head fell backward, landing on the pillow behind you. "Please."

Kyle complied and began to jut his hips in a steady rythym. He felt his heart swell with pride at the small mewls that emitted from your parted lips, as it felt good to know he was the first, and last, that would ever make you feel this good.

~

Kyle held you a little tighter that night as the two of you slept and made sure you woke up to a homemade breakfast the next morning. You deserved nothing more than to be treated like the princess you are.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[theywhowriteandknowthings]

Napping with Gaz | 497 word Drabble

My Blog is 18+ as is 99% of my content. Do not interact if you are a minor/under the age of 18.

Gaz has upped his nap game since meeting you. 

Before you, he would just fall asleep on whatever broken sofa, dilapidated office chair, or cold stretch of floor he could find. You wonder how the man is as lithe and spry as he is, as you know you’d have a permanent crick in your neck if you napped the way he used to. 

Now, he’s got a whole plan, with a Do not Disturb schedule set with only extreme emergency contacts allowed to bypass the setting. He has a special wake up sound for a slow, easy rousing from the nap. He also has specific timers depending on the kind of nap he wants to take. 

One hour for a good, relaxing deep nap to take with you on lazy Sundays. Half an hour for a refreshing nap midday when things are feeling a little groggy. And a forty-five minute nap for those times his brain is on edge and he knows he needs that extra fifteen minutes to wind down. 

Today is the former. He has your shared bed covered in blankets and pillows, and your favourite plushies. There’s a glass of water and a pack of paracetamol on the bedside table just in case either of you wake up with a dry mouth and a headache. 

Your heart swells as you see him in just a pair of sweatpants, his chest bare as he lounges amongst the assorted pillows, hand outstretched to beckon you to bed. He’s beaming ear to ear as he looks at you.

“Gaz,” you giggle as you take his hand, lowering yourself down into his open arms as you gather a selection of blankets to wrap around you both, “You’re an angel you know that right?” 

“Just want to make sure we’re optimising the time and getting the best out of it, babe,” he responds giddily as he arranges one pillows around both your heads, you crane your neck up to let him slide one under you. 

“And I love you for it, thank you,” you say with a sigh as you settle back into his embrace as he spoons you from behind. 

“Love you too,” he says, his smile evident in his tone of voice, “Now, timer’s set, close your eyes.” 

“So bossy,” you chuckle as you do as you’re told, nestling back against his warm body as he pulls you in tight, his strong forearm banded across your middle. 

“You love it,” he returns sleepily as he presses a barely-there kiss to the underside of your jaw before nuzzling into your neck. 

You grumble something in mock-protest as you feel yourself drifting off. You feel warm, protected, safe. You stay dozing, napping, drifting in and out of sleep for what seems like hours. 

As it happens, Gaz set the wrong timer (he set his morning alarm by mistake) and you both wake up groggy and disorientated three hours later. But you don’t mind, clearly you both needed the rest. 

“Just resting my eyes” (Napping with Ghost) Napping with Captain John Price Napping with Soap Napping with König CoD Masterlist

[httpsghostie]

ok this is the video i mentioned, like imagine könig in this, i want to tie his hands and feet and make a mess out of him :((( imagine him crying out of frustration that he can't touch you (and he makes a mental note to punish you as soon as he gets released), so overwhelmed and trying to scape the entire time, so cute :(( you make the context, my brain isn't creative enough to think of how we end up in this situation. sorry if i misspelled something and again i love your blog it's amazing !!*:! also i'm sorry if this make you unconfortable somehow idk?

Enemy pt 1

pt 2

TW: porn

and I strike again with another questionable scenario

this is just... I... uhm... well...

there's no such thing as crossing the limits with me I'm a fucking whore

Summary: you interrogate an enemy soldier in a different approach.

Word Count: 1,5k

Warnings: smut, König x female!reader, they're both a bit crazy, male overstimulation, edging, knife play (if you squint), glove kink, no use of y/n

masterlist

Recently, your team had brought an enemy for interrogation, and you were the one assigned to get the job done.

"Make him talk, we don't care how." They said.

You got in the cell, hands sweating nervously as you saw the man you were dealing with. You've met before, a long while ago, and he didn't change a thing. He's still arrogant, like he wasn't far within a hostile environment, his hands and feet in chains, in a cell that has never seen daylight. The only thing in the room being the chair he was sitting on and a fucked up mattress.

You crossed your arms as you entered the room, not knowing if he was able to recognize you from the mask you wore. But your voice, he could never forget the sweet melody of your voice moaning his name a few years ago when he fucked you senseless at an abandoned house, in the middle of war.

It happened fast, you were sweeping the place and he was there. You missed your shot when he pushed your gun upwards and tried to strangle you, but soon backed down when saw you were a defenseless damsel in distress.

And you found yourself pressed against a wall being fucked by an enemy soldier, just because he felt like it.

You try to shake off the thoughts that creep on your dirty brain, and as soon as the door gets locked behind you, his body relaxes on the chair. 

"So, we meet again." He cleared his throat. Pretentious prick. 

"König." You start, raising your eyebrows. "I guess you won't be using your free will to tell me what the code is, will you?" You walked towards him, he was still tall, even when he was sunk on the chair with his legs spreaded.

"My free will has better things to do than to hand out codes like candy at a parade. I prefer keeping my secret to myself. Yours too." You could feel the creepy smile that lit up his face. How could you ever do that to yourself?

"They won't believe you." You shrug, slowly walking from side to side on the cell, arms behind your back, your heavy boots hitting the concrete floor. "They're too busy torturing your general for info." His eyes widened and he straightened himself on the chair, tensing up. "So, what are you hiding, pretty boy?"

He flexed his muscles in response, trying to get rid of the chains that kept him restrained. But the praise, coming from your lips, it was impossible for him to contain an enormous wave of heat that destroyed any ounce of self respect he had. He lowered his head, but looked at you through his eyebrows.

"I assume we'll have to do this the hard way then." You took the knife from your belt and stood in front of him, running it along his collarbone and stopping at his chin, lifting it up. "Such a beautiful pair of eyes you got, 'wonder what you hide behind that hood." You say, lifting the fabric of his mask.

"Gonna use flirting as your way to get around this?" He chuckles, looking away.

"I'm offended." You fake a gasp and hold a hand to your chest. "Wasn't that what you did to me?" You're just able to get a laugh from him.

"You wanted that to happen." He looked at your eyes again.

"And you're wanting, too." You stick the knife in the wooden chair between his legs and he jolts in panic.

"Fuck, are you insane?" He looks down and at you again, and you laugh. 

You crouch in front of him, spreading his legs further, and laying your elbow on his thigh. The tip of your finger touches the end of your knife and plays with it, watching how his thighs tense.

"I might be." You say, looking at him. "But I always get what I want."

"You're fucking crazy." He chuckles and looks to the sides, trying to contain his embarrassment as a bulge slowly shows up on his pants.

You take the knife from the chair and put it on your belt again, moving your gloved hands towards his belt and pulling him up. He's heavy as fuck, it was almost impossible to do it if he didn't stand up, towering over you.

You pushed him back, and because of his feet tangled in chains, he fell back on the mattress, bucking his hips up as you eagerly unfastened his belt.

"You weren't this straightforward when we first met." He chuckled and looked up.

"What can I say? 'Guess your taste is addictive." You remembered the bitter taste of his release when he ruthlessly fucked your throat back in that house.

You pulled his hard member out, lifting your mask just below your nose to spit on it, and he whines as you wrap your gloved hand around it, jerking it up and down slowly. He pleads, trying to fuck your hand, but you pull away chuckling and he sighs.

"Let's make a deal, shall we?" You ran your finger along his length, stopping at his tip.

"I won't talk." He gritted his teeth.

"Then you won't cum." You give him a sly smile as you pull the mask down again.

Your hand grabs his dick, jerking it roughly, and he can't help but whine as he tries to get away from your touch. He's so desperate it's pathetic, and he moans as you set the pace.

He tries to move, to get away from the chains, he thinks about how bad he wants to be free and pin you down on the mattress and fuck you until you're begging him to stop, knowing he wouldn't stop until he was satisfied.

Your touch becomes too much on him, almost too harsh to bear, and he cries as he feels his cock throbbing as hard as it could, knowing that he wouldn't last long if you kept going this way.

And suddenly, as he's about to cum, you pull away again, leaving him whimpering at the sudden loss of contact.

"Fuck, why did you do this?" He whines desperately.

"It's simple, you give me what I want and I'll give you what you want." You shrug, grabbing his member once again and going fast on it. He cries, feeling his high approaching once again.

"I'm not talking." He shakes uncontrollably.

"Aww, stubbornness only turns me on." You say. He's too overwhelmed to think about an answer, trying to get away from your grip.

You feel his body tensing up again, his hips bucking up, chasing his so wanted release. Your hand keeps its pace, but your other one blocks his tip just as he's about to cum, watching his vein twitch. He's crying and cursing at you in german, his heavy balls filled with cum as he was being denied once again.

"Come on, I'm not gonna let go until you tell me, and it's only gonna hurt more." You say, letting his dick fall back to his stomach, and one of your hands grabs his balls. He's still shaking, completely overstimulated, and you use your thighs to make him stay put.

"I only know part of it, alright?" It comes out high pitched as his voice cracks, you could feel the pain in his eyes. "The general too, and your team is going to need more than just us for the full code if you want to stop that damn operation." It's almost impossible to understand his german accent at how fast he speaks, his chest rising up and down.

His cock twitches, his tip was red and leaking, and you decide that's probably all that he's going to say, and plus you needed him for his part of the code. 

"That's it, please, maus, it's hurting." He cries. Maybe he deserved to get his award now.

"Such a good boy you are, huh, see? It wasn't hard." You stroke his dick, the praise enough to make him see stars. 

As you increase your movements, he becomes a whimpering mess once again, and deep in his brain he's thinking of how pretty you would look with his cock buried in your pussy, and how bad he will ruin you once he has his hands on you.

It's too much to take, he's trembling, making it hard for you to keep him still. And he can't hold back any longer, his thick cum spouting on your gloves and his shirt.

"Maus, please, stop." He pleads, his body giving in. You clean your gloves on his clothed thighs and get up, leaving him there, covered in white. You stand there, looking down at him and his softening length, and slowly walk towards the door. "Where are you going? Don't leave me like this."

You knock two times on the door and one of your men unlocks it. You open it, looking back at König, still there, still messy, still panting and angry, spitting out as you leave.

"You're gonna pay for this."

[cowboydisaster]

Dark Red

pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x fem!reader word count: 5.6k summary: The Task Force 141 goes out drinking, and you wind up on your stomach in Ghost's bed. If you knew it would only take a few rounds of drinks, you would have gotten drunk with him earlier. (eventual smut, lots of family 141 interactions beforehand) a/n: This is my first COD fic and also the first thing I've written since May, so go easy on me if it's ooc pls xx. If you like this fic please give a follow or a reblog, I'm fixing up my blog and I'll be writing a lot more Simon. beta read by @margowritesthings warnings: nsfw, 18+, minors dni (smut, fingering, size difference, doggy)

masterlist

Your dress is wrapped tightly around your frame, held up by tiny golden chains that drape over your shoulders. It's dark green, and just barely covers your ass. It's definitely not the tactical gear that you’re used to wearing. You swallow thickly, pulling it down over your thighs as much as possible as you glance over yourself in the mirror. You barely recognize the reflection in front of you. No eye black, no tac-vest or combat boots. Tonight you’re not a soldier, you’re a civilian.

Price had arranged a night out to celebrate the 141’s latest win. He invited the Task Force alongside some allies for drinks at a club of all places, figuring everyone deserved to unwind. You were hesitant at first, but the boys all reassured you it would be just a few drinks. 

Once all the little details of your outfit are in place, you give yourself a onceover before pushing open Price’s bathroom door. Ghost, Soap, Gaz, and Price are all leaning over the kitchen counter, speaking quietly about the mission. They smile, oblivious to you as you exit the bathroom, feeling a bit self conscious about the dress Kate insisted you wear. That is until Ghost catches a glimpse of you out of the corner of his eye and quietens. He turns, and you watch his back straighten, hands in the pockets of his jeans as his eyes slowly run up and down your body. Something about that stare… you wonder if Ghost would ever see you the way you see him. It's been years now of you pining after him. You could never tell him. He’s your lieutenant, and besides, you’ve heard what happens to the recruits who make a move on Ghost. Every single one of them was harshly rejected and dropped from the program. You can't compromise your job, especially not for someone who doesn’t want you back. 

 Ghost stares, and the other three men turn to you in sync. A fierce blush blooms across your face as four pairs of eyes land on you. Ghost is wearing that familiar balaclava, the one he wears out in public or around the base. It hides everything but his eyes, and you stare into their swirling depths for a moment before the eye contact becomes too much. You clear your throat, glancing down over your dress. 

“Too much…?” You whisper, questioning your choice of fashion and makeup. 

“No…Not too mu–” Ghost is cut off as Soap lunges forward with a smile bigger than Texas and slaps you on the arm.

“Lookin’ good, bonnie lass!” Soap laughs. He looks nice himself. You’ve only seen him in sweats around the base, but tonight all four of your teammates are dressed to the nines. 

“Not so bad yourself, Johnny.” You smile, clutching a small purse to your hip. 

“We ready then, Cap?” Gaz asks, glancing up from his phone for a moment, “Laswell just got there, said she brought König.” 

“Yes.” Price smiles at you, checking his watch, “I've ordered two Ubers. Should both be here.” 

You follow them outside, smiling and nodding to Ghost as he holds the door open for you. The Captain and Gaz take the first car while you file into the second with Ghost and Soap. Soap sits in the front, leaving you in the back with Ghost. Your lieutenant is quiet most of the ride over, letting Johnny fill the silence, which he does. But it's hard to focus on Soap talking. You’re hyper aware of the eyes on you and how exposed you are. Your breasts are practically pushed up into your face, and the dress suddenly feels all too tight. You’re used to fighting, not celebrating, not partying. You take a few deep breaths, knowing that once you get a few drinks in your system you’ll feel better. 

“You alright?” 

Your eyes flick up. It’s Ghost, just barely over a whisper. His eyes are fixated on something out of the window, but he still must have noticed your anxiety. You nod.

“Just nervous.” You admit, “I’m not used to all this.” You whisper, gesturing down to your dress and matching strappy heels, then to the car that is driving you through the nightlife. Ghost smirks under his mask. 

“Me neither. Bourbon helps.” He says. 

“You drink bourbon?” You ask, glancing over. Soap hasn’t noticed your little conversation and continues to chat up the driver. You hadn’t taken Ghost as a bourbon man, he’s piqued your curiosity. 

“I fancy Kentucky.” He remarks. You chuckle. 

“Don’t let him know that.” You nod your head in Soap’s direction. 

“Never.” Ghost smirks, adjusting the cuffs of his sleeves. Your eyes fixate on the tattoos lining his left arm, just briefly exposed. You force your eyes away, knowing if you stare too long you’ll get caught up in the intricate pattern. The thought of running your fingers over those tattoos lingers in your head, soothing you enough to make the ride. 

—

The club is nice. Colored lights stream from the ceiling, a steady thrum of music vibrates lowly through the walls. You take in your surroundings, watching people drink, and dance with one another. It's a bit dark, hard to make out faces. You take note of all the exits while following behind Gaz and Price, both leading you all towards a closed off section of the club. Laswell is already there waiting along with her wife and König. The man must have already had a few drinks because he’s more relaxed than you've ever seen him. König’s eyes immediately land on you, and flutter down to the short cut off of your dress. You gasp as a burly figure pushes past you, separating you from König’s eyes. Ghost. He stands between the two of you and starts unclipping the velvet rope that separates you from the VIP section, much to the bouncer’s frustration. You blush, looking back to König whose eyes are sheepishly staring at the floor. Ghost must have pulled out his famous deadly glare. Your cheeks burn red. 

“There you are!” Laswell exclaims, motioning for the bouncer to lift the velvet rope that secures her area. No one seems to have noticed the little interaction between Ghost and König, thankfully. 

“VIP?” You chuckle. “Was that some CIA shit?” You ask, passing into the nicer, more secluded area of the club. A couch wraps around the corner wall, a table sitting in front of it. 

“Afraid not.” She smiles, wrapping an arm around her wife’s shoulders. You take a seat on the couch, watching as Ghost motions for Price to follow him towards the bar.

“We’ll be back.” He mumbles. Price pats Ghost on the shoulder as you watch them leave. 

“So, König?” Soap asks as he sits down, nodding towards the masked man. You take note that a beanie rests atop his head in place of his usual tac helmet. 

“Hmm?” König asks, suddenly alert. His eyes dart until they land on Soap. 

“How many drinks is it gonna take for you to shed the mask?” The scot asks. König grows quiet, tightly gripping his beer bottle by the neck. 

“Nein, I do not–” König begins before Soap jumps up, fist down on the table. 

“Nine?!” Soap laughs, “Keep em comin’, Ghost!” Soap hollers towards the bar. König shakes his head profusely.  

“No, that is not what I meant.” König tries to clear the situation up, but is drowned out by noise as Gaz and Soap laugh together. Laswell shoots you a knowing glance. You feel for her, being the only woman to watch these children.  

“You went with the dress I suggested.” Laswell notes, a proud smile gracing her lips. 

“I did.” You remark, blushing, “It's a bit tighter than what I’m used to.” You admit, sitting up straighter as a few from the table look back to you. 

“That's the point.” Laswell laughs, shooting you a quick wink. 

Before you can ask what she means by that, Ghost and Price return with two trays of shots. Half the shots are a golden, bronze color and the others are crystal clear. You raise an eyebrow as Ghost sits down beside you. 

“Get your bourbon?” You ask. 

“Had three down at the bar. You’ve got some catching up to do, yeah?” 

As everyone plucks shots from the trays, Ghost slides three in front of you with his knuckles. Two bourbons and one of the clear liquor. 

“What's this?” You ask, picking up the shot and holding it under your nose. It burns your nostrils, stealing the air from your lungs and replacing it with a sharp sting. 

“Patrón.” Ghost replies with a smirk. Your eyes follow as he grabs a clear shot from the tray with one hand, and pulls his mask up over his lips with the other. You’ve never seen his lips before. He brings the small glass to his lips, and you try to memorize the shape of his them, the jut of his jaw. It's gone in a flash as he downs the shot like it’s water before pulling his balaclava down over his chin. 

“Your turn.” He smirks, giant hand pushing the shot glass towards you. 

You follow suit, throwing your head back and letting the alcohol slide down your throat. You grimace at its strength, making a sour face. 

“Fuckin hell.” You cough. 

“You’ve got a bit of catching up to do.” Laswell points out, nodding down the table. You notice as Gaz takes the last shot from the first tray and your eyes boggle. 

— 

An hour later

Steady music thumps through the building. It feels slow, sensual. Maybe it’s because you’re wasted, but your confidence is through the roof as you make your way across the dance floor. Your eyes are locked onto your group, specifically searching for Ghost. The more alcohol that enters your system, the more you find yourself staring at him, noticing his every movement, every breath. You’d never allow yourself these thoughts while sober– the thought of wanting your Lieutenant is out of the question when your mind is clear, but right now it’s not. Your eyes search for him as you make your way back to the VIP section. 

“Lt?” You ask, sliding back onto the velvet sofa. 

“Went for a piss.” Soap exclaims.

“Why don’t you go meet him in the bathroom, maybe he could finally bend ya ov–” Johnny starts. 

“Soap!” Price cuts him off harshly. Soap only laughs, looking down the table to Gaz and the Captain. You look between the two of them, absolutely oblivious to the jokes that have been passed around the table all night.

“Oh, come on, Captain! He wants her and everyone knows it. We all see that shriveled up, cold, dead heart meltin’ at the sight of this bonnie.” Soap points to you. 

“Bloody hell, we bet on it!” Gaz chuckles, adjusting his cap.

“I must admit, I do see it.” König adds in. You squint down the table at him, and he immediately looks away. Price looks down at the boys like he’s schooling children. Your mouth falls open, taking in all the new information. 

“Remember that's your lieutenant you’re talking about. Leave his private life alone. You know how Simon is.” Price interjects, stopping the conversation before it gets out of hand. You blush fiercely, taken aback by their words. You don’t even think about what they’ve said, you can’t. Price looks to you apologetically. 

“What?” You ask, looking between them. “Ghost?” You double check, making sure that your hearing hasn’t totally left you. 

“He’s gone on you, mate.” Gaz adds, tone more serious than you would have expected.

“Christ, just pass me another drink.” You say, extending your hand out as König slides a shot down the table.

—

Thirty minutes later

You can feel his eyes on you. They’re burning through the thin fabric of your dress, where your breasts rest perfectly inside the silk, where the curve of your ass swells just above the hem of the dress. Your cheeks blush, whether from his eyes or the alcohol you’re not sure. Ghost doesn’t even try to hide his gaze, openly staring at you across the floor. His bourbon is held tightly in his hand as he watches you twirl on the dance floor between Soap and König. The lights aren't nearly as bright as your smile, and the night isn’t nearly as dark as the glint in your eyes. 

Ghost had watched men approach you on several occasions, and each time Soap shoved them away from you. You hadn’t given any of them the time of day. But Ghost? You’re taunting him, testing his self control to the point that he’s about to break. Every swing of your hips accompanies a purposeful glint in your eyes, a subtle bite of your lip. You’re teasing him, and he can’t take it. 

He deserves it. This is payback. He’s been apparently wanting you for months, and everyone in the damn Task Force knew about it but you. You’ve had enough of it. You extend your drink out for Soap to hold, accidentally bumping it against his chest and spilling a bit down his shirt. He takes the glass with furrowed eyebrows, looking down at your tipsy frame.

“Where ya headin’ to?” He yells over the music. 

“Have to use the bathroom. I’ll be right back, j-just watch my drink.” You stumble over your words, eyes never leaving Ghost’s. Soap nods, taking your cocktail and continuing his conversation with König. 

Ghost inhales deeply from across the room, eyes fixated on the taunting little “come hither” motion of your finger. You turn away from him, making your way towards the VIP bathrooms. You walk slow enough that he can follow after you, not that you’re even capable of walking too fast, lest you lose your balance and fall over. You push past a few other people, your heart beating quickly as you go. The music is loud and the lights are low, which you’re grateful for. Hopefully no one notices Ghost trailing behind you. A warm buzz radiates in your chest, pulsing down your bones as the liquor you’ve been downing boosts your confidence and slows your movements. 

You push the door open, stepping into the dimly lit bathroom. It’s clean and orderly, perks of the VIP section. Immediately, you walk in front of the oval mirror, checking over your outfit and fixing your hair. You reapply a quick layer of red lipstick, tucking it back into your purse just as you hear the lock click. 

Before you can turn around, a solid warmth presses against your back. Ghost. The sink digs into your hip bones as he sandwiches you in, one hand pushing your hair over your shoulder. His skin on yours is more intoxicating than any drinks you've had tonight. He's never touched you, not like this. You giggle, tipsy as ever as he rolls his balaclava over his nose. 

"Ghost–" You whine, fingers clenching around the sink as he gently nips at the skin of your neck. He inhales your perfume, exhaling in a deep growl that rumbles through you. 

"Simon." He corrects, hands wrapping around your hips. For just a moment, you sober up. He wants you to use his real name? 

Your coherent thoughts fall away as he turns you around, hands nearly bruising your waist. He kisses you. It's sloppy and drunk, but it's everything. All the months of wondering, and hoping– he's kissing you. If you'd known it would only take a few rounds of drinks for the courage, you would have gotten drunk with him earlier. Painted fingernails dig into his shoulders as you lean up for more. His tongue delves into your mouth, and you whine. He tastes like his favorite bourbon, smells like expensive cologne– his signature scent that you could recognize anywhere. Eventually, you pull away for the oxygen that he's so easily stolen from you. 

"Everyone said…" You take a deep breath, glassy eyes flicking from his scarred lips and chin up to his eyes. He waits for a response, but sees hesitation.

"Hmmm, what did they say, love?" 

"They said you wanted me." 

"How couldn't I?" Ghost growls. 

You yelp as he grabs underneath your thighs and lifts you up onto the sink. His hands are massive, maneuvering you as if he was trained to do so. Your legs wrap around his waist, grinding against the pressure in his jeans.

"Fuckin hell, I've wanted you since you first joined the Task Force." Ghost growls in between kisses and bites to your pulsepoint.

You think back to all that time ago. It seems like ages since you met the cool headed, brooding, terrifying Simon "Ghost" Riley. You remember thinking how easily he could break you. Now?– Oh, how you want him to. 

Hearing him say it out loud sends a wave of need straight to your core. Your hands shoot for his black leather belt, but he shakes his head, stopping you before you can unclasp it.

"Not here, love." He shakes his head, gripping your chin to press one slow, sweet kiss to your plump lips. Your eyes slip shut, and you pout as he pulls away from you and slides his balaclava back down over his chin. Disappointment pools over you as you search for an explanation.

"Flat's not far." Is all he says before he grabs your wrist and pulls you off the sink. He unlocks the bathroom door and begins pulling you back towards the crowd. "Here. Order us an Uber, yeah?" Simon asks you, slipping his phone into your free hand. 

It's too much for your drunken mind to take in as he leads you through the crowd of people. Colored lights strobe, making it hard for you to make out faces, but eventually you spot your group across the club. Soap is still holding your drink, but now he's looking around. Price and Laswell are with him, eyebrows drawn together in worry.

Remembering your task, you look down to Ghost’s phone. It's already opened up to the app, but messages are coming in and you can't swipe them away quick enough. The light bothers your eyes, and you attempt to read the messages as they flutter across the blurry screen.

Cpt. Price:

-Is y/n with you at the table? We seem to have lost her. Very worried.

You swipe the message away, and quickly order an Uber to Ghost’s saved home address. It's difficult, and you have to squint to make out all the swirling numbers and bright lights. But eventually, even in your state, you manage to get a confirmation code and receipt. An unsaved number pops up, more than one notification at a time lighting up the screen:

-LT, where'd you end up?

-Y/n asked me to hold her drink, disappeared on me. 

-OH SHIT

-LT!

-YOU HOUND!

-HAHA! Getting a pump, eh, LT? No worries, lad. I'll tell the Cap what's going on.

Several erotic emojis pop up on the screen and you blush fiercely.  Then you giggle. Soap, of course. You shake your head to rid yourself of the idea. The last thing you want is for Soap to blab about this. 

Simon pulls you through the exit and into the cold night. The breeze causes a shiver to run up your spine, and your dress helps none. As he leads you towards the road, you check the address once more and slip Simon’s phone back into his blazer pocket. 

"I d-didn't know you lived in Manchester." You whisper as he leads you out into the cold night. 

"Manny, born and raised.” You can hear Ghost huff through his mask, as if something humors him, “But no one knows where I live." He mutters, leading you down towards the busy street. 

No one except for you.

Cars pass by, and scantily clad men and women rush down the sidewalks searching for the same pleasure that you’re seeking. You bite your lip, feeling a bit nervous now that this is actually happening. Simon squeezes your hand. 

A steady trickle of rain begins to sprinkle down from the dark night sky, and goosebumps trail down your bare arms and legs. As soon as you tense, Simon is pulling his blazer off. 

“Simon, that's not necessary, really–” You begin to protest, but he is already wrapping the expensive jacket around your shoulders. 

“Hush.” He warns, and you obey. It's instinct. He’s your lieutenant after all.

You can see the tug of a smirk under his mask, blonde eyelashes fluttering as his brown orbs flick down over your body. You frown lightly, feeling bad that he’s given up his jacket for your sake. 

“Don’t worry, love. I'll be taking it all off soon, yeah?”

The alcohol buzzing through your system, making everything fuzzy, only intensifies the burning desire in between your legs. You don’t know how much longer you can wait. If you had it your way, he would have already taken you, bent you over the sink and had his way. The thought alone causes butterflies to fall in your stomach. Cold fingers wrap around Simon’s phone, still resting in the coat you’re now wearing. His recent notifications are all from Soap, and you scroll through them until a new one pops up on the screen.

“Car’s here.” You whisper, half lidded eyes searching until you find the sleek, black Volvo as it pulls against the curb. He takes your hand again, pulling you towards the car. 

“Simon, how long is this ride gonna be? I don’t know how much longer I can take this.” You admit, wanting nothing more than to tear your damn dress to shreds and throw yourself at the man beside you. He only huffs, showing a self restraint that you could only dream of. 

“Patience.” Is all he says as he opens the car door for you. You step inside the nice car, scooting towards the other side to make room for Simon to sit in the back with you. You see the momentary panic in the driver’s eyes as a 6’4 masked man climbs into his backseat, but Simon only places his hand on your thigh and politely confirms the details with the man. 

Simon grips your thigh, the large pads of his fingers leaving imprints on your soft flesh. You shake your ankle, distracting yourself from the desire growing in your abdomen.

“Drive fast, yeah?” Simon mumbles, sliding twenty quid to the driver.

—

The door lock clicks. Simon checks it twice. 

His hands are on you in an instant, picking you up by your thighs and pushing you up against the wall. He didn’t turn the lights on, and your eyes struggle to adjust to the dark as Simon’s lips run over your jaw in sloppy kisses. You moan, hands wrapping around his neck and resting on the back of his balaclava. 

“Simon, please–” You whine, throwing your head back as he nips your earlobe. 

“Just a second, darling.” Ghost growls, holding you against him. He carries you through the dark flat, maneuvering drunkenly down an even darker hall. He approaches a door, and kicks it open like a human battering ram. You’re slowing him down, your lips pressing against him everywhere that they can reach, leaving love bites that he’ll still have in the morning. You kick your heels off before he even sets you down, your hands tearing off the blazer from your limbs. It hits the ground, Simon’s phone buzzing silently in the pocket. He’ll find several missed calls from the boys in the morning. You don’t even want to think about the notifications your phone is receiving. Luckily, you dropped your purse as soon as you entered the front door, so it can be a problem for tomorrow. 

Simon gently tosses you down on his king sized bed, and you fall onto the plush black blankets. They’re warm and soft and they smell like him. It’s all too intoxicating. You lean forward and unclasp Simon’s belt buckle as quickly as your intoxicated hands can manage as he pulls his shirt over his head, not bothering to unbutton it. You’re taken aback as you notice a sizable scar on his ribs. It's a messy, deep, pink scar that indents into his otherwise pale skin. Your eyebrows wrinkle, fingertips brushing near the flesh before he snatches your hand away, squeezing it too tight to the point that it hurts.

“Don’t.” Is all he says. It’s a warning, and you blush a deep crimson out of embarrassment. 

“Sorry.” You mutter, quietly. Simon brings your hand up to his lips, pressing a slow kiss to your knuckles. 

Ghost leans forward, hand gripping the side of your neck as he kisses you again. His balaclava tickles your nose as you deepen the kiss, leaning more into him. Any embarrassment or awkwardness from your last interaction falls away as he pushes his jeans down over his legs, lips still interlocked with yours. Simon steps out of his jeans and boxers, and your jaw falls slack. 

“Simon–” You stutter, eyes fixated on the length between his legs. Your eyes flick back up to his face, seeing the proud smirk he wears, even through the mask.. He simply won’t fit. It’s just not possible– He’s too big.

“I can’t-” You shake your head.

“I’ll be gentle, love.” He reassures, climbing overtop of you on the bed. Nervously, you nod. You trust him. Big hands grab you by the waist and flip you onto your stomach. You whine, clutching the sheets below you. He shushes you, and you gasp as golden beads and zipper teeth fly across the room, bouncing off of the floor and the glass window overlooking the city. A loud tear rings out as Ghost shreds your dress from the seams.

“Fuck, Simon! That was expensive!” You yelp as he pulls the ruined fabric from your body, discarding it on the floor. Laswell’s gonna kill you.

“I’ll  buy you a new one.” He growls, warm hand running down your bare back. His finger loops under the black lace thong you’re wearing. Simon smirks, “All for me?” He asks, releasing the lace so it smacks back down onto your skin. 

“Yes– all for you, only you, Simon.” You mumble, pushing your ass back up in hopes that he’ll touch you.

“That’s my girl.” 

You moan at his words, hands moving to your hips to shove the lace down off your legs, but he brushes your hands away, stopping you.

“Leave it on.” Simon rumbles at your back. You nod your head against the pillow, bringing your hands to rest under your head. Ghost pulls your thong string to the side, letting it rest just out of the way.

“Fuckin ‘ell, love.” Simon takes a breath, trying to keep the control that you’re so close to snapping as his fingers trail over your dripping folds. 

“Fuck, Simon. Stop teasing.” You beg, hips pushing back against his hand. He chuckles, dipping two fingers into your throbbing cunt. 

“O-Oh!” You whine, gripping the sheets as he hooks his thick fingers, hitting every sweet spot inside of you. Simon kisses your back, nudging your legs with his less busy hand so that they’re folded under your stomach and spread apart. He positions you low enough that your stomach touches the bed. He curls his fingers, scissoring them occasionally as you throb and whine for him. He groans at the noises you make, working you open until you’re ready. 

“Perfect.” He grumbles, sliding his fingers out of you. You whine in confusion until you feel the tip of his length teasing at your entrance. 

“Ready, love?” Ghost asks. You moan, biting your lip and nodding your head. 

“I need to hear you say it.”

“Yes. Im ready, just– please Simon, fuck!” You stutter. 

Simon slowly pushes in, and you gasp for air as he parts you like the fucking red sea. It hurts a little, and your nose wrinkles as you exhale. Simon notices the hitch in your breath, carefully examining your reaction to make sure you’re comfortable. It only takes a few moments for you to acclimate, and then he feels incredible. His size stretches you, reaching depths you didn't think possible. He hits every sweet spot as he spears into you. 

Simon’s chest presses against your back as he pushes into you. His scarred lips lock onto your neck, biting you as he fucks you from behind. He grips the headboard to steady himself, nearly leaving indents in the wood as he thrusts.

It's rough, drunk and sloppy as he drills into you. He starts out at a slow and steady pace, grinding into you rhythmically so as to not hurt you. Your exhales become sharp huffs, swirling together with the puffs of air he exhales next to your ear. If only you could turn around and kiss him again. You crave his lips against yours, satisfying the craving you’ve been ignoring for so long. But you know Simon might not be ready for that level of intimacy yet. You’ve heard stories, connected the dots. 

All too soon, you find yourself teetering on the edge from his movements. You gasp and moan under him, whimpering out his name so loudly that you’re sure the entire building can hear. The headboard rocks against the wall with every thrust, loudly slamming and leaving dents in the drywall. Neither of you care, too wrapped up in each other to even realize. 

Your neck is bruised from Simon’s lips, adding to the pleasure that’s pushing you over the edge. You fight it, but lose as pulsing heat tears through your core. Stars explode in your vision, eyes shut tight enough that they wrinkle. 

“F-uck, Simon!” You scream, nails digging into the sheets as your whole body trembles with the weight of your orgasm. Your walls squeeze Simon’s length in time with his thrusts, turning him into a groaning mess. 

“Bloody fuckin ‘ell." Simon groans, accent thicker than usual. His warm breath tickles your ear, and you gasp as he bottoms out, hitting your cervix. 

“You- You on the pill?” Simon manages to stutter out between deep grunts. He can’t risk pregnancy, can’t be a father. But you feel so fucking good and he can’t bring himself to unbury himself from your perfect, dripping cunt. 

“Got the patch– you’re good. Just fucking fill me up, please.” You beg, rocking your hips against him. He nearly curses at your words. You have a foul mouth in bed, something he wouldn’t have guessed. You whimper his name, and that’s all it takes. 

Simon grunts deep and guttural, and with one an iron grip on your hips, he fills you up with his spend. You moan, taking it all until you can’t, and it comes dripping out around him before he’s even finished. 

“That’s it, fffuck– y/n.” He grunts as the last of his seed spills out.

You press your forehead against the sheets, wincing as he pulls out of you and collapses beside you on the bed. A sheen of sweat lines both your bodies, but as much as you’d like a shower, you’re exhausted. A digital clock rests on the table beside Simon’s bed, and you sit up, squinting to look at it. 0300. Damn. 

You look back towards Simon. He’s half sitting up against the headboard, half laying down. You notice the thousand yard stare that he’s putting off, and you gently cup his chin, pulling his gaze towards you. 

“You okay?” You ask, rolling up his balaclava with your dainty fingers. You uncover the subtle smile on his lips. You smile in retur, half lidded eyes focusing on the shape of his lips. Your thumb traces over them gently.

“Better now.” He whispers. You press a kiss to his lips, slow and sweet before pulling away. 

“Get some sleep, love.” He says, softer than you’ve ever heard his voice. Much to his surprise, you tuck yourself into the crook of his side, wrapping your arms around his torso. Sleep overcomes you almost immediately. He’s too warm, too perfect. It’d be impossible for you to stay awake next to the comforting, human heater that he is. 

Simon hesitates. It’s been a long time since anyone has been this close to him. The bourbon gave him confidence enough to bring you home, but this is a very new territory, and not even the alcohol can guide him through this one. Sex is one thing, but intimacy? Emotional vulnerability? Simon burned those handbooks long ago.

“Love?” He asks, awkwardly looking to see if you’re awake. You don’t respond, asleep he confirms. Simon’s not sure what to do. He doesn’t want to move you. Are you comfortable? Is he too close? Too warm? 

He sighs, looking down at your arms tightly wound around him. No one’s shown him this type of affection, not ever. He’s not sure how to reciprocate it, but he wants to. One day at a time. Simon pulls the blanket up over your waist, checking twice to make sure that it's covering you. Carefully, he places a hand over your back, feeling your soft skin against his. 

He doesn’t sleep at all, opting to stay awake and watch the small rise and fall of your back on his lap. He doesn’t deserve you, he's sure. But you’re here, and that’s something.