day 2 - TIRING YOU
genre: fluff, smut
He had his eyes on you all the time. You always thought of it as him looking out for you. You were fighting for your life almost all the time, after all. And in a way, he was looking out for you. He also thought he was only looking after you. What caught him off-guard was that he started glancing at you even after a mission.
You were just a pleasure for the eyes. He felt himself relax when he looked at you. That old man found something new in his life again. With you still being younger and him being your captain, he took on a more of a caring role.
And by pure coincidence, you were a little of a workaholic. He felt constantly worried for you. Poor, stressed brit. You were always pure energy during missions, and whatever energy you had left, you used on finishing paperwork. It led to the point where you kept passing out of exhaustion.
This mission was no different than any other. You were as lively as ever. You killed off enemies. You went solo a couple of times. But most importantly, you worried Price.
You have just arrived at the nearby base to get rest from the mission. Immediately, Price ordered everyone to go find a bed and rest. He looked at you. Unfortunately, you were still very awake.
You were speed-walking through a hall of the base. You were ready to go do that damn paperwork. You went to turn a corner and fell to the floor. Wondering why did you just fall, you looked up, noticing Price staring at you with disappointment.
"Good evening, sir!" You blurted out. He had his arms crossed, slightly leaning back. "Bed now, no compromise." He said in a calm, firm tone. He was tired, so he had no idea how you managed to stay awake after such a tiring mission.
"I just have a little work left." You pleaded in hopes of him letting you go with his usual tired sighs. That was not the case here, tho. You stood up, trying to negotiate more effectively. Only did you not know that that was a mistake.
You just gave him easier access to pick you up. And so he did. He grabbed you by your waist and threw you over his shoulder, knowing you couldn't do anything in that position.
He opened a door and threw you into the small room. That was surprising and unexpected of him. He closed the door behind himself and locked it. "You sure you're not tired?" He raised his brow, hoping you would give up easily. You looked at him and tried to negotiate again.
You were cut off by one of his tired sighs. He grabbed you under your shoulders and lifted you up, pushing your back against a wall. When he knew you weren't planning on falling, he grabbed you by your ass to hold you better.
Your neck suddenly got attacked by his lips. Your hands on his shoulders as he slid down his and your pants. You got lost in his movement, feeling relaxed in his embrace.
He slid himself into you, chuckling a little when you let out a surprised whimper. He started moving, rutting his hips back and forward at a steady pace. His thrusts were a little sloppy from his tiredness. He grunted against your neck, letting you know how good you made him feel.
He kept on going, pushing the air out of your lungs. His eyes closed, and his lips still kissing your neck. He opened his eyes to see your face. Your pretty face sent him over the edge. You were pretty close, too, and his final thrust made you see stars.
He put you on the ground, pulling his pants up. "You tired now?" He chuckled. You only responded by your body going limp. He chuckled once more before pulling your pants up.
He carried you out of the room, and you woke up in a comfortable bed in the morning.
A/N: This was fun to write.
You're my favorite writer, and König is my favorite aussie man, so OF COURSE im making you write for him, hal, BEAR W ME !
Alright, what do you think about König with the “You’re here late.” prompt? The reader is part of KorTac and always worked alongside König, since they both entered about the same time, because of the readers personality, they are always fighting, one of these fights are specifically bad, leading the reader to go on a mission with another KorTac member, to help out somewhere else and take their mind off things, when the reader face a problem on the mission and ends up arriving late, König is furious.
Moths Hit the Window
PAIRING: König x F!Reader
SYNOPSIS: Fights with König were always loud, but this time his comments went a bit too far.
WORD COUNT: 5.9k
WARNINGS: Verbal fighting, angst, high tension, blood & stitches, wounds, canon typical violence, guns/weapons, death, suggestive near the end, fluff, hurt/comfort, etc.
A/N: Huge thanks to @idocarealot for the German translations!! Also, König's wearing the arachnid skin in this because I love it sm - enjoy, Anon!
*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*
You seethe. If eyes could turn red yous would be a beautiful shade of crimson—bloody knives ripping out of the cornea to strike whoever happened to get too close. It was as if the very air boiled with the force of a raging tsunami as you stomped down the local military base’s hallways, covered in blood and guts. Never had you reconsidered working for KorTac more than at this very moment.
Maybe I should just become a mercenary, you rip at the torn-apart gloves over your hands and jerk your arm out. Passerbyers quickly avert their eyes as you shove them into a garbage can and continue on with a growl. No shitty rules, no regulations—no fucking partners.
If people happened to slide past without noticing the steam coming out of your ears, they would have immediately locked eyes on the pure elephant of a man trailing fast behind. König’s eyes were goring into the back of your neck, gray and tan garb swaying as the packs and flash grenades on his combat vest bounced with every step. Accents of red do nothing in comparison to his visible flesh—the section of his eyes uncovered by his mask and head rig alight around his obsidian gaze.
König was muttering to himself far under his breath, curses and harsh comments all in German that he wouldn’t say to your face. At least not right now in view of others.
“I can hear you, you dimwit,” you hiss over your shoulder, grinding your teeth as you both make your way to the armory, “curse me out quieter!”
“You are making a scene!” The beast grunts, that heavily accented English striking your eardrums with its harsh dialect.
“Oh, jeez!” You raise your voice even higher, turning back forward and clenching your hands into fists as blood and guts drip off your gear—none of it yours. “I’m just so damn embarrassed, König! I’m making such a large and obnoxious display. Whatever will I do?!” Sarcasm like a valuable drug is injected into the waves of your voice. People from open doorways look out with shock, brows pulled up.
Everyone quickly darts back away when you snap your head in their direction and send them a scathing glare.
No one was surprised to find you and the Austrian going at it again but knew well enough to stay out of the crossfire. Lest someone get roped into it.
“Fuck off!” You spit the last curse into the burning air and shove past a soldier ahead of you.
König’s dark eyes flash dangerously, lips under his mask twisting into a sneer. The man’s shoulders seem to dig in even farther, spine curling over as if a brooding child.
This had all started the second you’d joined up with KorTac. Fresh out of the military and eager to get back into the game after a good vacation the PMC group had been at the top of your list. But if you’d known you’d be paired up with this damn mountain every chance there was just because he’d got into the game at nearly the same time as you, you’d have put in your luck with SpecGru.
“I do not see how this is appropriate behavior,” König follows as you place your palms on the black metal of the armory door, pressing with your shoulders. “I did what I was tasked to do—”
The masked man is cut off as you whirl on your heels, the door slamming shut as his body is shoved into it with strong arms. Dark eyes go wide in surprise, feeling the dig of your nails on his abdomen as your form presses into him and the chill of the door on his spine. You feel his skin bunch under his thick shirt and even if you want to stare him down that’s just not an option. Your warm figures shuffle together with panting breaths and dangerous glints in your eyes.
“Bull,” you drag out the word, growling it right up into his neck; sniper hood caressing your chin. König’s breath hitches with shakes of swirling emotions. “Shit.”
Shoving once more so he gets the point, you push off of him and stalk away like a feral wolf, already unclipping grenades and medical packs from your vest.
“You’re the damn reason the target got away!” Gear is thrown haphazardly to the long table in the center of the room. The Austrian watches with predatory eyes, hands clenched so hard that they quiver. He stays still, watching, as you send scathing glances. “The reason we’re going to be here for ten times longer than we’re supposed to be!”
“It is not my fault you failed to properly check the perimeter before you rushed in like a fool.” Volatile couldn’t be used to describe this…this was nothing short of volcanic. It was as if there were two sides of a scale filled with bullets and gunpowder—fire in the middle that was equally heating both piles as they raised and lowered erratically. König’s voice grates over the air, “I did what I could to fix your scheiße plan!”
“Don’t you shit on my plan!” You point, voice bouncing off the weapon racks as you rip the rifle strap from over your chest, chucking it away.
“I will shit on it—it was…it was…!” König’s voice cuts out and he can’t find the words. The Austrian descends into visceral German ramblings. “Es war so ziemlich der schlechteste Plan, den ich je gehört hab. Welcher halbwegs vernünftige Mensch geht in eine heiße Zone ohne vorher alle Zielobjekte richtig zu markieren?! Ich kann dich und deine Rücksichtslosigkeit nicht mehr leiden — du bringst mich um meinen Verstand! Hast du überhaupt ein Gehirn in deinem Schädel?”
You shake your head to yourself, heart pounding. “You’re still the one that was supposed to focus on the HVT. I rushed so he would flush out, but, no,” taking out the magazine of the rifle you hold it in your hands like an accusatory ruler that a teacher would hold. König shoves off the door and stands to his full height; arms tensed and straining before they coil around his chest in a soothing gesture.
He hated the fighting—the constant strain between the two of you. But when you were together it could never amount to anything else. The room felt like it was a million degrees.
Your eyes stab at him, “No! You had to go and focus on me! I hate to break this to you, König,” feet come forward and you once again find yourself close to him—breathing the same air and taking in the scent of gunpowder and blood. You point the tip of the magazine into his chest. His unseen lips pull; jaw clenching with held-back fire. “But I am not your damn mutt to keep on a leash. I had it under control.”
It’s as if you don’t realize the Austrian could snap you in half with a single kick of his leg, as if the sheer size of König had slipped your mind as a whole. His hands could snap your neck in an instant, but that was only if he got ahold of you.
But that was a line the both of you were never planning to cross. Words were one thing in this profession, actions another. If you ever got into a physical fight, you’d both kill each other, no doubt.
You’d like to think you’re a bit above that, but perhaps not.
König’s chest rises and falls deeply, taking in calming breaths as he tries to get his temper under control. “You didn’t,” he jeers out, “I saved your life, you Heißluftgebläse. And if you wanted to be treated less than a dog,” he grunts to you, head pulling down close to your face, harshly whispering out, “You could have simply asked me, yes?”
You both snarl at each other's throats like rabid animals, the world disappearing all around the obsidian eyes that match with yours; for a moment you get lost in the shining bits of silver in his iris that seem to burn with chilled iron. What little skin you can see is flushed and tight—hawk nose nearly poking out your eye as you’re leaned over like a giraffe near a bush.
Body vibrating, you sharply breathe, “I’m not even going to ask what that fucking means, you tool.”
“Good.” The words are bitten and fast, “because I am not telling you.”
“Perfekt!” You both were arguing like children. Hot faces and unwilling to let the other have the last word. If you got along it might have been funny.
“I’m going to dump all of your Einspänner out on the tarmac.” Your sure voice echoes with a definitive promise to the tone.
Pale lids widen in horror at the threat to the Austrian's favorite beverage, comfortably sitting in the Base’s fridge.
“You would not,” König’s tone is deathly serious and you smirk, eyes dancing. “You…” a guttural growl meets the air, mind translating words and giving meanings, “beast of a woman!”
“Oh, is that the best you can fucking do?!” You yell, splaying your hands out widely and moving away from him. “Now that’s really a show stopper, König, I’m shaking in my damn boots.”
“Ich komm mit dir nicht mehr klar.” König yells, moving back and placing both of his hands atop his head, knuckles white. “You’re rude—you do not even try to get along. You are loud and disrespectful; how do you live like this?!”
Your eyes slightly widen, watching the Austrian.
“Don’t try?” You echo, scoffing loudly. “What do you mean don’t try? I was the one to try and smooth things out between us in the beginning.”
“When?!” König spreads his hands out, knees slightly bent. “Because I have no recollection of such events.”
“Well of course you wouldn’t!” The heat was meeting a breaking point—words were getting more personal, sharper. Like a blade being honed for the kill slowly; being sharpened by rocks and whetstones of conviction.
König points a finger at you, voice going low and thin, “I’ve had enough of you, yes?” His sniper hood moves rapidly with his fast ricochets of breath. “Just about enough. Would you have wanted me to let you die?”
“I had it,” your lips spit, nose scrunched, and forehead tight. The man’s chest vibrates with a mute growl.
In all actuality, you’d never seen him this worked up before. König wasn’t above giving your quips back even if he obviously disliked it—most of that was due to the strange familiarity between the two of you. In large crowds, the man preferred to stay silent. This only added to his almost deadly aura with others, though you knew the muteness was because of social anxiety and not some built silence. He wasn’t shy per se, just afraid he’d say something wrong; mess up the conversation. You did most of the talking in meetings and you never minded it. Added him in when the topic was something he knew a lot about.
Your mind had addled it up to thinking it was cute, actually. How his feet would shuffle; his half-lidded gaze and his intense eye contact to let them know he was still listening. When he’d have to remind himself to look away with a pinch to his thigh because it was starting to seem threatening. It was endearing, even.
But around people König knew, well, he was going to speak his mind. No matter how long it takes his brain to catch up with his lips.
The only thing the two of you were good at was being moths—hitting the metaphorical window over and over on the same topics and tension points. Slamming heads and flapping wings. You were at the end of your rope just as he was.
“I should have never taken you as a partner!” He calls, feet splayed. “Should have gotten out of this the second you were assigned with me. Gott, ich hab wirklich versucht, dich zu verstehen — Ich hätte gleich aufgeben sollen.” Your lips thin, lungs stalling as all the air vacates the room. You stand still and listen to what he really thinks, fingers shaking.
König’s large form towers over all, great sparks of electricity flying out. His gear shakes as he moves, thigh straps pushing fabric to shift and conform to his body. Your blood pumps with brewing hesitance.
Maybe this had gone too far. I’ve never seen him like this.
“I can’t stand you any longer! Pathetic squabbles that mean nothing, absolutely ludicrous plans that make little headway.” Your head bursts with aggression and what little warning signs you have are squashed. “I can’t keep saving you because you can’t do your job correctly!”
“You don’t have to save me at all!” You scream. “You can’t keep your damn eyes off of me for five seconds, König.” Feet move away quickly from the armory door as if someone had come to put away their stuff but thought better of it. The next words burst from you before you can think of the contents. “It’s like you fucking love me or something!”
König doesn’t miss a beat, but for months afterward, he wishes he had.
“Oh, do not make me laugh—” he scoffs ferally, adrenaline making him talk, “as if anyone could ever love a woman like you in the first place.”
Twin eyes widen and both parties immediately fall silent. A sharp inhale.
Under the hood, König’s face goes an embarrassing shade of red all the way down to his chest. Fingers freeze. Jaw slackens.
You feel like your heart was just grasped in his grip and ripped out of your ribs with one violent motion—one sentence out of all the others enough to knock down the rebuttal that had formed on the tip of your tongue. Your throat closes up as you blink in shock.
“I-I…” König stutters, mind blanking as he struggles for words. But anger was easier than pain.
Numb fingers rip off the last of your weapons and belongings as you let them hit the floor with defining thuds as warm shame floods your cheeks. Shaky puffs of breath like a panting dog. Dark eyes watch with regretful panic, heart jumping and eyes flinching. The adrenaline it…it made him forget himself on occasion—how to properly act when not on the battlefield. It was like that with everyone but…but he hadn’t meant that.
Shame that it’s already too late.
Your fisted hand slams into his chest, brutal and unforgiving. König lets off a grunt but does nothing as you slither past, hissing into his ear, “Find yourself a new punching bag.”
His hand snaps to his breast where you had slammed your KorTac patch right into his heart, catching it. It’s many moments before he can think enough through the alarm; form words.
“I…I didn’t…oh, du blöde Kuh!”
By the time the man composed himself, panicked tears burning in his eyes, the door had already slammed shut. His feet squeaked over the tile to an empty audience.
Private Military Companies don’t have ranks. There are no Sergeants, Lieutenants, Generals or Colonels. Just people. Beyond the orders you’d been hired on, there was nothing keeping you in line with König on this mission. And those orders were loose at best.
Adhere to policy and listen to the Base’s COs. Shut up and get the job done.
The Austrian and you weren’t due out for another week because of rotations. Since you’d failed to capture or kill the HVT that you were assigned, another group had picked up the tracks in the meantime. Like an oiled machine, the gears of this operation kept whirling.
Evolve, or die.
“Lieutenant!” You call to the geared-up man on the tarmac—the one heading that very same group. It had been only a few hours since the incident in the armory. You needed a distraction; blood was still running high and brain pounding for release. There were only so many times you could bruise your fists and legs on a punching bag before people started giving you nervous looks. “Need an extra hand?”
Your voice sounds strained, even to you. The man looks you over once and narrows his eyes. Nods not moments later.
“Get tired of your big friend? Okay, how fast can you be ready for me?” You feel your shoulders loosen, a relieved sigh exiting your lips.
“...get to it then. We move in five.”
So that was how you found yourself backed into a corner five hours into the op from hell—bloody knife held tightly in your grip and mouth open in ragged pants.
“Fuck,” your vest is torn and riddled with bullets; your entire chest must be bruised by now because it surely aches like it is. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”
You really are reckless, just like König had said you were. Maybe you’d just never realized it because he always seemed to watch your six. This…this was really bad. The comms were awash with screaming orders and panic, ringing out across the abandoned mining factory that exploded with light from gunfire and the sounds that accompanied it. You knew for a fact three soldiers were down; two KIA.
The Lieutenant is one of them.
Your hand snaps to the radio strapped to your chest, one eye squinted in pain at the ragged slice across your left brow line. At your feet, two heavily armed men lay dead.
“Pull back! They knew we were coming!” But your word didn’t carry weight here. Your face twists between pain and rage. König’s comment still rings in your ears as the onset of tinnitus does, as if anyone could ever love a woman like you in the first place. It wasn’t ideal to be thinking about this now—it was detrimental that you didn’t.
But König and the things he did often stained your brain. No matter how much you tried to distance yourself from that fact.
Snapping the knife in your grasp down in an arch to dispel the blood from the blade, you take a steel-laced inhale and shove off the wall. Limping, but moving. Sprained ankle. Nothing you hadn’t dealt with before.
The concrete under you is splattered with crimson viscera and you stumble over spasming bodies riddled with bullets. With a subdued shink you slip your knife into its thigh sheath, grabbing the FTac Recon strapped around your chest after slamming a fresh mag into it. With a numb calm overcoming you, you slip your forefinger into the trigger guard, poised over the easy press of the trigger itself.
The long shadows spread over you; your head illuminated by the dull sheen of the moon as you pass under a stretch of open sky to slink into the building across the empty street. Feral yells still bounce off the air and you go to them readily, purpose settling in your veins.
Pain flies to the back of your mind, displaced by adrenaline and the rabid puffs of breath that fall like grinding thunder from your lips.
You wonder what König’s thinking right now—he’d without a doubt noticed that you were gone. He’d even probably gone to your barracks room to try and apologize and found it empty. That was just how he was.
Would he be happy? You wondered. Relieved to see you out of his life? You’d both done nothing but fight, but there were moments of peace. Understanding.
Shared meals and comfortable, yet sarcastic, comments; soft glances when the other wasn’t looking. Heat in your face and obviously shown on his when shy hands brushed.
Your hold tightens on your gun, brows dripping with sweat as it dribbles down along with the blood. Gunfire flashes.
Shadows scream on top of a raised walkway attached to an in-mountain compound, targets with trigger fingers firing on your fellows who take cover behind crumbling walls. Pinned down. You watch, unseen, from a broken window as dust and moths collide.
Your eyes lock on the closest hostile and you raise your weapon slowly, barrel resting on the frame between shattered glass. You clock the distance and adjust accordingly; breaths falling steady.
The small insect that keeps hitting the window plays in your mind over and over—drowning out the yells; the fire.
Just a moth readily willing to smash into that barrier until it dies. You hum under your breath and rest the gun into the crook of your shoulder, cheek to stock.
Your finger slams into the trigger.
You stumble out of the loud infirmary with a bloody rag pressed deeply into your forehead, medical pouch under one arm. You hear rushing feet and barked orders from nurses and doctors just before the door closes, cutting off as you stake out on your own.
Limping, you reason there were others with more severe wounds than your own; as blood drips from your flooded rag, your feet take you deep into the base one broken step at a time. You’d figure it out yourself.
Plus, the silence would give you time to think. Think about König.
You just gritted your teeth and decided that was better than taking up space in the infirmary.
In times like these, the Austrian would fix your wounds for you, just as you did his. While you had your disagreements and heated fights, he’d never made it as personal as he had hours beforehand. Never made it hurt.
“Jesus,” you mutter, rubbing your other crusty hand over the mud along your chin. Everything ached and you don’t know if that’s a good or a bad thing.
Flinching along like a downed bird, you shove through into the last door into the barracks; thoughts now stuck on finding a chair to sit down on before your legs gave out. The darkness of the common area was deep—staining your eyelids as you grunt, bumping into the back of the couch.
It’s almost funny the way the lamp flicked on mere moments later.
You hiss, eyes snapping shut as the rays attack your sight, rendering you blind for a moment. The shaking hand on your dripping rag tightens before the spark of pain makes you lighten the pressure.
There’s a dark grunt just as you open your eyes back up.
“You are late.” König.
He sits in one of the chairs—sniper hood still over his head yet only clothed in a large compression shirt and casual camo pants. Like a disappointed parent, the Austrian’s arms were crossed over his chest; feet resting out and crossed at the ankles. With such a big stature the look could strike fear into anyone.
Anyone but you, that is.
König’s dark eyes rove over you, stopping immediately on the fabric you keep to your forehead. The previous, furious, tone stops and the flash of very real concern takes precedence. His hands tighten on his biceps, thighs tensing over the cushion; spine just a little bit straighter.
You watch and say nothing—dead-faced.
Your heart suddenly skips beats, stuck into the framework of the man’s eyes. König’s brows peel back and a timid stutter stays in your breast.
“...Vögelchen?” Lids blink rapidly, and before you can register anything because of your blood loss and fatigue, you’re being dragged to the couch and forced to sit down.
Strong hands encompass your shoulders and small breaths flutter in front of your face as König peels back to kneel in front of you; spying the medical pouch in your under-arm.
“What is this?” He mutters to you, vision flinching along your body but always dragging back to the bloody rag on your face. “What did you do to yourself?”
Scarred hands raise before pausing, obsidian eyes staring deeply into yours as if in frantic question. Your own gaze keeps him close, spying on his veiled fear at the sight of your blood and your disappearance. He’d heard about the mission, then, that much was upfront because of his earlier comment.
The humvee had been late arriving back. Half an hour.
“Fuck off,” you utter, shoving off the couch before you’re captured in an unyielding press again, shoved down. Your anger spikes along with your unease, “König! I don’t have the patience—”
“I’m sorry.” The fight leaves you.
Fingers squeeze your biceps, hold lightly shaking with nerves. “I did not mean it.” Obsidian pierces you, “Please, Vögelchen, I am sorry. Utterly. I speak so fast I misplace words—get far more,” words fail as you stare so intently at him, a strange feeling swirling in your gut. König’s face was going crimson again, though not from anger. His tone was deep and honest, accent becoming more whole with emotion. The hands on your skin stay. “Rude than I intend. It is not an excuse, but…”
In the horizontal oval of his hood, you spy the dots of tiny freckles; the whispers of auburn hair. That hawk nose still points violently from behind the fabric. König never finishes his sentence, just takes a large breath and looks to the side after a moment of silence.
Then he steals the medical pack from your grip and opens the zipper with firm fingers, taking out gloves and gauze. Needle and sutures. It’s all placed on the side table as the bear of an Austrian stays on his knees for you—bending and shifting as the bottom of his shirt rides up.
It’s a tense affair of touching skin; warmth and hissed curses. Gentle shushing. But you say nothing through it. Until he’s up in your face trying off stitches with forceps and a needle holder, breath making his hood lightly caress your bloodless face. His fingers are large and firm, never second-guessing or stuttering over the course of directing tools that dig a needling and thread into your flesh.
He’s warm and every motion elicits shivers. You see his form from the side of your eye; his face’s outline as the lamp light illuminates the hood’s fabric. Shadowy silhouette of König’s strong jaw that shifts with every other breath from his wide chest.
“You’re an asshole for saying that to me, y’know.” you slip your gaze away just as he snaps over. “Adrenaline or not.”
The needle pauses and a swift nod is given.
“I…I know it was. No amount of apologizing can explain how very horrible I feel. It was like I was so…so…” An annoyed grunt was leveled at himself.
“Pissed off?” You offer quietly.
“Yes! Pissed off.” Amused glances were shared, the air slowly smoothing out between the two of you. Dark eyes quickly look away from yours and König clears his throat terse-like. But softer, steadier, “I…could not bear it if I were to see you in harm and be unable to assist you. That…is why I was watching. Why I do watch you.”
Inside of you, it was like there was a pot of water on the stove, steadily boiling under the heat. Your eyes are delicately wide when the man’s hands leave your face; kneeling body still tall enough to stare into you.
“You are…” König pauses, but not to find the words. To ready himself. He takes a long breath. “You are special to me, my Vögelchen. I can not see you hurt,” a gesture to your forehead and creased eyes. As if your pain was his own. “Not like this.”
“What are you saying, König?” You whisper, face twisted with hurt and confusion. Apprehension. “You’re giving me mixed signals. We always fight with each other. I’m not saying I’m blameless, but…c’mon, now. Look at us.”
“Not…always.” He grumbled like a child, tools placed away and hands dripping blood before he slips the gloves off. They meet the side table with a tiny toss. The Austrian leans back onto his ankles, butt to heel. He begins to look at your forehead and you can practically hear his heart break. “I do not like arguing with you, you know that, yes?”
“Me neither,” you whisper, fingers fiddling as a sheen of anxiousness sets in. “You just,” you pause, “confuse me.”
König blinks in surprise, head tilting and large eyes shimmering. Your mind flashes to a curious cat and you try to explain with a burning face and fast lips.
“You say we’re partners but you never act like it,” he stares and listens. When had you both had a conversation like this before? “You make it seem like you can’t trust me to do the simplest task. I’m not,” your voice betrays you, cracking, “I’m not that useless, am I?”
He freezes, muscles going taunt.
“U-Useless? Nutzlos? No, no,” A hand comes to capture your chin and you let him move you where he wishes. Creased eyes lock on yours. “That is not right. You’re not useless to me—how could you be?” Pained brows move in, “did I make you think like this? Like I did not appreciate your skills?”
Your eyes burn, and the aches from your wounds mix with the pure fatigue in your flesh to leave your emotions running between sanity and sadness. A moment later you’re turning your head away.
König recaptures it, hands finding both sides of your cheeks. He looks shaky; desperate.
“No, please, Vögelchen, please. I need you to look at me.”
“König, I don’t—” You close your mouth before you let out the beginnings of a sob. “I can’t keep fighting with you.”
“I know, oh, I know,” his hands are so grounding it’s like you’re the inner pages of a book, and his grip the thick leather cover—leather laced with shared scars and the same that had stitched you up countless times. This push and pull had to end. “I cannot fight with you either—it tears me apart. Oh, du weißt gar nicht, wie sehr es mich schmerzt, dein wunderschönes Gesicht anzuschreien. Mit dir zu streiten bedeutet, meinen Verstand und mein Herz gleichzeitig zu brechen.” König’s thumbs run up and down your skin, still bloody with dried flakes falling to the ground. He seems not to care a bit.
“What can I do to fix this? Anything. Anything to get us to stop doing this to each other.” You stare into his eyes, both creased and glazed over.
There’s a brief moment where you wonder if anyone truly even knew you as well as König did—there was no one else that you shared such a deep connection with. Years upon years of being stuck at his side.
And someone else’s hands had never felt as good as his. They were hard and callused over but cupped your face as gently as one would cup water from a rippling stream. His eyes were stars; visible skin like porcelain, his breath raised a large and wide chest with a fast-paced heart. You could sense his throat trapping air.
König kneeled to you and bared himself.
Anything, he had said, to fix what he had said. To stop this.
There was one way you could think to stop this—it might not have been smart, certainly not, but…hmm…You gradually raised your hand raised from your lap and slipped it under the front of König’s hood.
Slowly, with all the delicateness of a glass dragonfly, your fingers strayed to the side of his neck to press into tight flesh. A rapid pulse.
The man goes to stone. It’s like you’ve stolen his nervous system. Dark eyes stay locked onto yours as you gaze back, hand dragging nails up with a light pressure near to the speed of a slug.
König whispers your name into the empty space and the oxygen seems to dry up. Warm light from the lamp cast phantoms on walls and over skin in a small moment of foreign discoveries. The Austrian swallows saliva and you feel his neck flex. You don’t answer him, just watch and feel his own hands tighten on your cheeks in warning.
But you never listen, do you? Reckless you were called. And König had been right.
You were reckless.
Your hand had now explored like a map the indents of hidden facial scars; long and short over jaw and lips. The hand that was doing this had hiked the sniper’s hood up around your wrist so that the man’s lashes were twitching as the fabric got too close to his eyes. And you watched. And so did he.
A twin pair of moths hitting a glass window, staring from opposite sides at one another until they realized the break in the frame.
“Anything?” You ask in a loose tone, barely heard above the flood in both of your ears.
König was breathing heavily but didn’t pull away. Pupils wide and body heavy to your touch. His spine briefly straightened, until he realized he had moved back slightly and immediately hunched again if only to keep your hands on him.
“I…” he grunts, “A…anything.” Fingers touch his nose, they spread under the hood to trace the bumps and marks he keeps hidden like buried treasure. Your vision takes in the otherworldly hue on his visible skin; the glaze of rapture in his eyes yet still that ingrained heat.
Your body shivers at the gravel in his accented English.
Fingers stall over his lips, hood showing you the pale being of König’s strong chin and jaw. You shift your touch to the side and find chapped lips revealed to you, a small palate scar that had healed to nothing more than a line up to his nostril.
You spare it nothing more than a glance before you look back into obsidian. Dark ether and dead galaxies devoid of stars. Swallowed in a sea of pasts and futures. You look for hesitation; for disgust.
You find none.
“You said that no one could ever love someone like me,” your head leans in, and your breath mingles together with an intimacy that had never been shared between this type of partners. König, as if broken from a spell, takes down a swift inhale of air into his stiff lungs. He stares with far back lids. Flashes of unidentified emotions. “Why did you say that?”
A moment of silence and of rabid hearts. The man’s lips twitch over yours as he answers slowly, not breaking eye contact for a moment. As if he did he’d be turned to rock. As if he’d miss something amazing from happening.
He speaks with a whispered confession.
“Because if they did—I would have to kill them. Because no other than I would be able to love you more.” Your world slows and your ears strain with the breathy words.
Face burning your lips part with shock and awe. Violent to any other, but to you this was a confession from a man that could meet you blow for blow—calm you and infuriate you all in one. Challenge you, but knew when he’d gone too far and how to properly apologize.
He’d waited in that chair for you all night, you’d realized.
For you to come back to him. His partner.
You press your lips to his and hear his pitiful sounds of gasped reassurance. Slipping your tongue into his mouth, you let saliva drip off of your chins to splatter onto bent knees and shaking thighs.
König’s arms cage you; capture your waist and draw you closer, lips breaking apart before you both share a wide-eyed look of momentary pause. There was no room to breathe; to think. Chests hit together and fingers tighten to a tendon-visible hold.
The man's growing smile is wide from where you still hold his hood up by his nose, and with a lick of his red and wet lips, he reconnects your awaiting mouths.
This time, you’re the one to gasp.
“Lass mich zeigen, wie leid es mir tut, Vögelchen.”
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A cumdrunk Simon...
...is a happy Simon. He would spend hours between your thighs, his tongue licking in, out and against your pussy to make your back arch while his hands keep you still so you can't get away from his mouth. Not in this lifetime, not when he's making you feel so good, pulling one orgasm after another from you so easily. A few words mumbled against your clit have your head spinning and the lower half of his face covered with your slick. Not enough, it's not enough, he needs it on his tongue, his chest, his abs, his fingers and his cock to. So much work to do, making you finish so many times, but Simon was always a hard worker.
Need more- König NSFW
Art belongs to: @kinky-thirsty-reader
Based on a request:
reader sitting on desperate!konigs face please
i feel like he would be so shy about it but he would eat pussy so good
F!Reader, smut, MDNI, 18+, mentions of face sitting, f!ngering
This man knows how to eat his meal and make a mess with it. He will have you on the couch, bed, side of the road, kitchen table or counter. Anywhere as long as his tongue is fucking into your cunt. His fingers are deep inside of you. Your moans and your juices that leak from you, making him cum in his trousers. Your clit is being abused by his tongue and fingers. Your hands pushing his face, and oh does he love when you do that. The way he looks at you as he eats you out, the hunger and desire for more of you, always makes him need that sweet taste of your cunt. Your slick coating his lips, the ones he licks after he had the privilege to eat you out.
Sometimes he has you before you drop him off at base before missions, other times he is at the side of the road when you pick him up from the base. He loves it when you wear your pink panties and how he slides them to the side or off your body when his needs get the best of him.
On days when he is actually shy about eating you out, that is when you know the orgasm will be better. He gets flustered, excited and nervous to even lift your skirt up. His face flushed, innocent look to him, a stuttering mess when you guide his fingers inside of you. "Meine Liebling, I-is this..this okay?" he says as he rubs your clit, one look from you or a moan and he is a mess. He licks and kisses your pussy, always whispering how much he loves you and the taste of it all. His eyes are closed when he is enjoying eating you out. The room dimmed making him more and more needy. His hands wrapped around your thighs as he keeps your legs open for him.
Once he has made you cum at least twice he smiles and opens his eyes, "I love it when you are like this, Meine Liebling." two more fingers inside of you. You squirm and moan, feeding his inner desires. He sometimes makes you ride his face, but that is only when he knows you deserve a reward after taking him all night. Your inner thighs are always covered with love bites or hickeys, only for him to see. At times, he gets on his knees and eats you out just like that, but it's always in front of a mirror because he loves it when you watch yourself cum and moan.
Days when he is overstimulated and when he is eating you out is when you see him cry. He loves how much you praise him, he adores how you stroke his hair away from his face or how you nod and smile as you watch him eat you out. His favourite view is watching you get drunk on orgasms. Your smooth skin, your thick thighs and your pussy, that is what motivates this man to always fight to come home.
task force 141 & their favorite toys.
mdni, tw smut. what type of sex toy they like to use on you.
contains soap, ghost, gaz, price.
john 'soap' mactavish is a people pleaser, always has been. he makes it his personal mission to put the wants and needs of others above his own, regardless of the impact it may have on his mental and/or physical health. when it comes to you in particular, he's completely devoted to fulfilling every one of your pleasures. he's the type of man to bury his face between your thighs, nose nudging against the hood of your clit while his smooth tongue laps away at your core before the idea of fucking you with his cock even crosses his mind. it's no surprise that his favorite toy happens to compliment his mindset perfectly.
his hand captures your chin, forcing you to remain eye contact with him as he sheaths his full length deep inside of you. a whimper escapes your lips, mind too fucked out from the overwhelming stimulation of the vibrations against your clit and inside of you. your hips bucked up against him, attempting to squirm away from the mind-numbing sensation.
john chuckled, his free hand capturing the back of your leg to hook it onto his hip, deepening his penetration into you. he was going delirious, his hips growing numb and his cock hardening impossibly more from the lack of blood flow through his cock. the vibrations of the cock ring were making the two of you grow dizzy, each brush of the ring against your clit sending a shockwave through your body.
"f-fuckk, lass," he stammers, pressing soft kisses all over your face as your whimpers grow louder with each hard thrust into you. he could feel your legs tremble around him, the intensity of your climax approaching and forcing your walls to tighten around him. "so fuckin' tight f'me, pretty girl�� yer m-makin' it h-hard f'me to move, darlin'—"
his eyes squeezed shut, his cock pulsing hard inside of you. god, he wanted to cum, wanted to fill your pretty cunt with his seed and fuck it into you until you were swollen with his child. but the stupid elastic ring around his cock made it impossible for him to reach his orgasm.
your tiny whimpers made him twitch, a tiny gasp escaping from his throat as your hands attempted to claw at his biceps. "f-fuck, johnny—" you babbled, your legs now helping to guide the intensity of his thrusts. "feels so good… 'm s-so sensitive.."
john grinned, his hands brushing away the beads of sweat forming on your forehead. "gettin' close f'me, lass," he stilled his movements. he buried his shaft inside of you, the tip of his cock brushing against your cervix while the vibrations of the cock ring pulsing against your clit made your hips buck harder against him. he knew you were close, and he wasn't gonna move until you came first. "not gonna cum 'til you do, princess… wanna take care of ya first…"
simon 'ghost' riley prefers for others to not see his face, always sporting some sort of facial mask while he's outside of the house. it wasn't that he was shy about showing off his face; he already knows that he's a pretty decent-looking lad, but the idea of being so exposed made the hairs on the back of his neck stand. at the beginning of your intimate relationship, simon had been hesitant to show you his face and preferred to commit intimate acts in complete darkness. yet, because of this, he was unable to see you and the entirety of your own vulnerability in the light. he was quick to find a solution to remedy this situation.
"i trust you, si," your words made his heart swell, a soft chuckle leaving his lips as he tied a tight knot behind your head. he made sure to keep your hair pulled aside, not wanting to capture any loose strands with the knot and cause you any unnecessary pain. the black satin blindfold shielded your vision, preventing you from seeing what was going on around you and forcing you to rely on your other senses.
simon pressed a chaste kiss to your forehead, capturing your hands and guiding you to sit on the edge of the bed. he stepped away for a moment to turn the bedroom light on, his eyes widening at the sight of your naked body. his eyes raked over your body, etching every detail into his memory as he walked back over to you. you looked so beautiful with the blindfold on, a small smile still formed on your lips as you "stared" up at simon.
a small gasp left your lips as simon pressed his hand to your chest, guiding you to lay on your back. the bed shifted beneath his weight as he climbed on top of you, looking all pretty with your legs spreading open more to accommodate for his size properly. you could feel the warmth of his breath on your neck, the sensation of his lips brushing against your skin sending shivers down your spine.
a sweet little whimper escaped from you as his fingers toyed with the sensitive folds of your cunt, his index and middle fingers spreading the lower lips apart and allowing the cool air to brush against your needy core. you were already soaking wet from his simple actions, mind growing dizzy with how vulnerable you were in this moment.
"barely even touched ya yet, doll," your legs twitched as simon maneuvered circles against your clit, the slick of your arousal moistening his fingers and making it easier for him to rub all kinds of shapes against your sensitive nub. without even seeing him, you knew that simon had the biggest smirk on his lips, his pupils blown out from the simple way you were making a mess on his hand.
"yer so cute, doll, pussy so needy for my touch," simon purrs, one of his fingers slipping inside of you. he groaned at the sensation of your walls clamping around his finger, his thumb continuing to brush loose circles around your clit. you whined when he added another finger inside you, his digits hooking against the squishy walls of your cunt. "gotta prep ya first, doll... can't wait to watch you cream all over me..."
you can't convince me that kyle 'gaz' garrick isn't a secret voyeur. he enjoys watching you pleasure yourself, simply gets off at the sight of you achieving your release. something about the manner in which your face contorts with pleasure, eyes rolling back and body trembling violently when you reach your peak makes him go feral.
your tongue flicked against his tip, your soft hands wrapped around the base of his cock as you guided it down your throat slowly. you were on your knees, mouth stuffed full with kyle's cock while the tip of a silicone dildo brushed against your cervix. kyle stared down at you with mischief glint in his eyes, a smug smile on his lips as his hands found their place on the back of your head.
"bounce on it," he huffed, his order sending a shiver down your spine. you began to buck your hips, gliding the silicone cock in and out of you at a pace that matched kyle's thrusts. you moaned around his cock in your mouth, the vibrations of your moans and muffled whimpers making his grip on your hair tighten.
your mouth was so warm, your tongue flushed against the underside of his cock. the tip of his cock poked at the back of your throat, your teeth just barely grazing against his shaft as he bulled his way inside of you. kyle could cum at just the sight of your fucked out face, drool seeping out from the sides of your mouth and trailing down your chin, making a complete mess on your chest.
his thrusts were sharp, the muscles of his thighs flexing with each brutal snap of his hips. his balls slapped against your chin, growing wet with each thrust from the amount of salivia staining your lower face. your vision grew blurry as the dildo shifted beneath you, nudging at your g-spot and making your toes curl with each poke against it.
a series of “fuck”s and “shit”s filled the air, kyle’s head tilting to the side as he grew close to his release. his cock throbbed in your mouth, his eyes locked on the sight of your cute head bobbing with his cock in your mouth while you chased after your own release with the dildo drilling itself inside of you.
“s-such a fuckin’ whore,” kyle whined the lewd wet sounds of your pussy and mouth being stuffed sending him over the edge. “g’na cum down this pretty throat— greedy whore, so fuckin’ needy— needs all her holes stuffed, eh?” he bit his lip, fighting against his urge to just cum already. he didn’t want to stop, he was desperate to watch you cream all over the dildo first.
“be a good girl and cum f’me,” kyle slammed his hips into your face, your nose pressed hard against his pelvis. the trimmed pubic hairs tickled your nose. you could feel his cock all the way down your throat, the walls of your throat spasming around his girth yet you continued to fuck yourself dumb on the silicone cock. tears spilled down your cheeks, a sick smile forming on kyle’s lips. “nasty lil girl, fuck yourself silly with that cock— c’mon, baby, let go f’me—”
there's no way in hell that john 'bravo six' price isn't a total ass man. he's obsessed with your ass, you can always catch him staring at it regardless of where you two are or who's around. his hands always manage to find a place on one of your ass cheeks as well, subconsciously kneading and toying with the plump flesh. this behavior tends to carry over into the bedroom.
john stared down at you with a shit eating grin, absolutely drilling into you while his eyes remained locked on the sight of the pale pink anal plug stuffed inside of you. his nails dug into the flesh of your ass cheeks, greedily pulling them apart to give him a better view of your cute hole swallowing up the rose glass plug.
your face was flushed hard against the cushions of your mattress, a puddle of drool forming beneath your mouth as he jackhammered his cock into you. his tip poked at your g-spot, bringing you closer to your release while the walls of your ass clenched hard around the plug.
"fuckin' look at this ass," john hissed, delivering a hard smack to your ass. he watched with glee as the skin reddened from the slap, your back arching more to raise your ass higher for him. "ya g'na let me fuck this pretty ass next, right?" he questioned, reveling at the sight of your fucked out state.
your head bobbled against the mattress, incoherent words spilling from your lips as he continued to drive his cock into you at a mind-numbing pace. your body was so weak— your mind dizzy and too dumb to even process his words.
john chuckled, absolutely possessed by your pussy and the view of your stretched ass hole. his thrusts grew faster, sloppier and stronger as he began to reach his climax. he let out a loud groan once he came— a thick load of cum staining your tight walls white.
you whined at the sensation of the plug being pulled out from inside of you, your anal walls clenching around empty space before you felt the familiar sensation of his tip poking at the entrance. he slipped in at a slow pace, allowing you to accommodate for every inch of his length before he would make any sort of movement.
“g’na stuff this hole with my cum too, okay princess?” john asked, slowly pulling his cock out to just his tip residing in you before slamming it back in at full force. you were a whining mess— growing more dumb by the second. “wanna see both your holes drip with my seed…”
.ೃ࿐ Format: Drabble
.ೃ࿐ Ratings: Fluff/Mild NSFW.
Touchy!König who constantly makes you sit on his lap when you're trying to watching a movie just so he can trace and pick with parts of your skin.
Touchy!König who comes up behind you when your cooking dinner. His hands snake towards your stomach locking together as he plants sweet kisses your neck and nibbles on your earlobe.
Touchy!König who convinces you that sleeping over at his house is more important and that he'll make up whatever money you lost for coming in late to work that day.
Touchy!König who enjoys sharing a shower with you because he gets to properly examine your body. He won't keep his hands to himself, he's lathering you up making sure to cup and fondle your chest.
Touchy!König who let's you lay on his chest listening to his heartbeat while he plays with your hair and mumbles sweet nothings in German.
Touchy!König who plants a kiss on your forehead as you sleep knowing you'll be safe from the harm of the outside world.
( cw. quick drabble, makeout sesh. könig & reader. grinding / dry humping. + google translate german used. )
“mmh! schatz, wai—”, könig and you had a mission no less than four hours from now. both of you knew that, if the two of you were caught by price, again, only god knows how he’d reprimand the two of you this time. [t. sweetheart.]
but könig’s lips were so distracting. they were full, his upper lip being a soft pink and his lower lip being rose pink, with a scar on the left side. if he didn’t want makeout sessions all the time, why would he put on a show just for you?
“jus’—fuck, hands on my hips, babe.” you said between kisses, placing his gloved hands on your hips before going back to gripping his hair and grinding against his cargo pants.
“too—engel, engel–gott, ich werde— zu viel!” he cried, squeezing his legs shut after you had pulled his swollen lips away from yours. [t. angel, angel–god, i’m gonna—too much!]
you grinned, wiping away the stray tears from his tear-stained cheeks, “we have . . a little longer, yeah?”.
“liebe, trainin’—hah, ah!”. you pressed your hand against his mouth, you motioned for him to be quiet as you unbuckled his belt. könig bit his lower lip, nodding slightly as he watched you place his belt on top of the duffel bag. “we—training, though, the mi–oh, god–the mission!” you situated yourself on top of his lap before tilting your head. [t. love.]
“we have time. three hours and some minutes, [we] won’t be late like last time, swear.” you mumbled, pressing kisses against his jaw whilst slowly grinding against the crotch of his black briefs. könig nodded slowly, his mind becoming clouded by his urges, “we—yeah, yeah,” he mumbled, agreeing, his hands going underneath your shirt and situating on your waist.
you pressed soft kisses against his adam’s apple to which he tipped his head back with a soft groan. “yes—we definitely . . hah, we definitely have more time.” könig whispered, licking his lips before smiling and gently pressing his lips against yours.
Here and Now (Husband!Ghost x Wife!Reader)
Pairing: Husband!Ghost x Wife!Reader (Papa!Ghost AU)
Category: Fluff and Smut (18+)
Warnings: Tooth Rotting Fluff, Swearing, Slight Roleplay, Implications/Mentions of BDSM, Oral Sex (F!Receiving), P in V Sex, Unprotected Sex (You Know the Drill), Creampie
Word Count: 5k+
Summary: Simon surprises you on Mother’s Day. 😊
Author’s Note: Happy Mother's Day! 🌸 Lily is almost three in this fic while Tommy is ten months old. (BF/N) = “Best Friend’s Name”. I hope you all enjoy!
“HAPPY MAMA’S DAY!”
Lily’s small, sweet voice drew you out of your sleep. You fluttered your eyes open, smiling at the sight before you. Lily was carrying a plate of scones to your bedside, Simon trailing behind her with Tommy in his arms. You yawned and stretched, your legs shifting beneath the covers. You beamed as Lily tried to balance the plate in her small hands.
“Is this for me?” you smiled. She nodded and raised the plate above her head, the scones nearly sliding off. You placed a hand over your heart before you took the plate from her.
“I helped Dada make them!” she chirped. You set the plate on your lap before taking a bite. The dough was still warm and fluffy, the buttery goodness melting over your tongue. You hummed as you chewed it. Tommy gurgled in Simon’s arm as he reached his chubby hands for you.
“That was so good!” you sang. Lily squealed and clapped her hands. Simon stepped forward and laid a kiss on your lips. Tommy softly cried out for you, his hands still reaching out.
“Aw, Tommy,” you cooed. Simon bounced your son in his arms before resting him next to you. His rosy cheek squished against your arm as he tried to balance himself. You smiled and brushed the tuft of brown hair on his head. He gurgled as you helped him sit up, staring at you with his papa’s dark eyes.
“Happy Mother’s Day, sweetheart,” Simon beamed. You grinned and pecked his lips again. Lily began to reach for your scones. Simon chuckled, giving her a raised brow.
“You hungry too, Lil?” he asked. She flicked her hand away, hiding it behind her back while her eyes grew wide.
“Uh-huh,” she nodded. Your husband grinned before scooping her up into his arms.
“Let’s go downstairs and get some breakfast, yeah?” he hummed. She raised her hands.
“Yay!” she cheered. You giggled. Tommy latched his mouth onto your arm, slobbering over your skin. Simon looked over to you.
“Want me to take him, too?” he asked. You looked down at the babe, his eyes sparkling as he gazed up at you in wonder. You shook your head, keeping your hand on Tommy’s back.
“Actually, I was thinking all of us could have breakfast in bed?” you suggested. Lily gasped.
“Bed! Bed!” she squealed loudly. Simon laughed.
“Well, you heard her. Let’s get our grub, Lil,” he chuckled as he rubbed noses with your daughter’s. She giggled as he carried her out.
“Bye, Mama! Be back soon!” she called, waving her hand as Simon went down the hall. You waved back before turning to your breakfast. You let your back rest against the headboard as you slowly chewed on your sweet-savory food. Your eyes flicked over to a card resting on your nightstand. Curious, you slid the card between your hands.
You heard your husband’s lumbering footsteps grow louder as he walked in through the door. Lily jumped up into your bed, picking up Tommy and setting him in her lap.
“Do you want me to open this now?” you asked Simon. He shrugged before giving Lily her plate. She happily began to eat her scones, doing a little dance as she chewed.
“It’s up to you,” he said, taking his seat on the other side of the bed. You looked back down and tore open the envelope. Lily watched you curiously, Tommy drooled over his chin as he played with your blanket. You smiled at the dandelions that were pressed inside of the card. Lily’s eyes lit up as you took them out.
“I picked them, Mama!” she exclaimed. You smiled and brought them up to your nose, smelling the squished golden flowers.
“They’re very pretty! Thank you Lily,” you beamed. Your daughter smiled before squeezing you with her small arms. You kissed the top of her head, squeezing her back. Tommy huffed, annoyed with being squished by his big sister.
“Sorry, bubba,” Lily said before kissing Tommy’s cheek. He cooed softly, as Lily pulled him into her arms. You grinned and went back to the card, reading the message:
Happy Mother’s Day! You are such a brave, kind, and incredible woman. I’m so thankful to have you as my beautiful wife and the amazing mother of our children (who get their good looks from you, by the way).
You rolled your eyes at Simon. He chuckled, knowing exactly which sentence you just read.
I love you so much. I can’t wait to see the new memories we’ll make in the years to come.
P.S. Make sure you dress up for tonight. I have a surprise for you.
You raised your brows.
“A surprise?” you asked, tilting your head. Simon nodded, taking a bite of his scone. “Do I at least get a hint?” you giggled. He shook his head and swallowed.
“You’ll just have to wait and see,” he drawled.
“Thanks again for watching the kids, (BF/N)!” you called from the front door. Your best friend smiled as they sat at the table painting pictures with Lily. Tommy gurgled in his high chair, banging on it with his tiny fist.
“No problem. Have a good time you two!” they replied. You grinned before a sudden thud drew your attention down the hall. Simon was wearing his skull balaclava, the tattered, grim mask a sharp contrast to the crisp suit he wore. His phone suddenly fell on the floor as his eyes raked over you.
“Like what you see?” you purred, striking a pose. He dipped down and grabbed his phone, his eyes still on you all the while. His pupils were blown as he quickly came closer, his shadow overcasting you.
“You look gorgeous, darling,” he breathed, taking your hand and pressing it to where his lips would be. You chuckled and caressed his cheek.
“You don’t look too bad yourself, Casanova,” you winked.
“Love you, Mama! Love you, Dada!” Lily yelled from the kitchen, waving her paintbrush in the air. You smiled and waved back.
“I love you too, baby!” you grinned.
“Love you, sweetpea. Be good for (BF/N), okay?” he asked. She nodded.
“Okay, Dada!” she chirped. Lily danced in her chair as she went back to her painting. Your husband turned back to you.
“Ready to go, Mrs. Riley?” Simon hummed while hooking his arm around your own. You smiled and pecked his cheek.
“Whenever you are, Mr. Riley,” you smiled. He waved to your friend before stepping through the door, walking you to the car. You smiled as he opened your door for you.
“Why thank you kind sir,” you replied with an exaggerated tone. You gasped as his hand slipped to your backside as you slid inside. “A little handsy, are we?” you mused. Simon simply shrugged.
“Not my fault you have such a cute arse,” he stated. You rolled your eyes as he closed the door.
Your heart fluttered with excitement on the drive over. It’s felt like forever since you’ve had a date that wasn’t just dinner at your table or a movie night in the living room. Your eyes trailed down to Simon’s free hand resting in his lap. You smiled as you slid your hand into his, your wedding ring reflecting off of the lights as he turned onto the motorway.
“Seriously, where are you taking me?” you asked. His eyes remained trained on the road as he squeezed your hand.
“Afraid that’s classified,” he droned. You sighed. Your shoulders raised as an idea popped into your head.
“What would happen if the information got leaked, hm?” you inquired, your index finger poking out to trace circles on his thigh. Simon’s fingers clenched on the steering wheel as his foot pressed slightly harder on the gas pedal.
“You’d be charged with insubordination,” he replied with a crack in his composure. His Adam's Apple bobbed in his throat as you continued to motion your digit across his dark slacks. You leaned over, your seatbelt tugging on you as you pressed your lips close to his ear.
“And what would be the necessary disciplinary actions, Lieutenant?” you whispered. You could see his resolve begin to crumble as you unlatched your hand from his grip, tracing your fingers over the top of his belt. You knew calling him by his rank or call sign was a quick way to get him riled up. Your husband cleared his throat.
“I can think of a few ways to deal with a disobedient soldier like yourself,” Simon responded, a dark shadow reflecting in his eyes. Your throat hitched as he trailed his fingers up your arm, goosebumps erupting in their wake. “One, I could have you bound and gagged,” he rumbled, his hand sliding down to your hand, tracing over your wrist. You bit your lip, your legs squeezing tightly together. His hand came and rested on top of your thigh, his fingers splayed across the bottom hem of your dress. “Two, I could search you…if there’s probable cause,” Simon murmured. His gravelly voice sent shivers down your spine as his fingers bunched up your dress. You shifted in your seat, face flush with a dark merlot as he exposed your upper thigh.
“A-And three?” you swallowed, eyes blown with lust. Your mouth went agape as the pads of his fingers brushed the inside of your plush thigh. His dark eyes glanced over at your desperate expression before flicking back to the road.
“Corporal punishment,” Simon grunted as he roughly squeezed your thigh. Your teeth captured your bottom lip, tightly encasing it at the pressure that grew between your legs. The pads of his fingers dug in deeply as he emitted a smooth groan. You moaned quietly, your core beginning to feel wetter the longer he touched you. Your eyes were lidded and mouth watering as he released his grip. You sighed as he rubbed the red marks before slipping his hand back to the wheel. His expression remained a mystery behind his menacing mask as he continued driving. Your chest heaved, his marks still sending a dull pain that melted into a pleasure that leaked into your heat. You wiggled your hips, leaving your dress still hiked up as you eyed him.
“Almost there,” Simon stated as he made a right turn. He peered over at you again, the corners of his eyes crinkling slightly. You bit your lip, your eyes flicking down to the beginning of a tent in his slacks.
“Are you sure you don’t want to tell me...Ghost?” you drawled, your hand cupping the inside of his thigh. You heard his jaw click, his fingers drumming across the steering wheel as he made another turn.
"(Y/N)..." Simon warned, his eyes locked onto you briefly. You gave his a coquettish smirk, hand hovering above his clothed cock. You yelped as he came to a sudden stop. Your brows furrowed as he chuckled, proceeding forward on the road.
"Sorry, sweetheart. Can't just blow through a stop sign," he shrugged. You pouted, then wiggled your hips ever so slightly.
"I'll show you what I can blow through," you muttered.
"What was that?" he mused, You opened your mouth, only to gasp when something caught your attention. Twinkling lights brightened your vision as you drove closer to a rather elegant looking hotel. A valet waved and came around while Simon put the car into park. You hid a laugh when the man’s friendly expression quickly became hesitant when your husband stepped out of the car.
“G-Good evening, sir,” the valet squeaked. Simon nodded with a grunt. He slid the keys into the valet’s hand before he grabbed a bag from the backseat. He walked around and opened the door for you. His eyes were dark yet warm as he watched you slip out of the car. Your heels clicked on the pavement as Simon helped you up. You looked up in disbelief at the intricate detail of the building. A large, crystal chandelier hung in the foyer as you two made your way inside, your arm wrapped around Simon’s. He chuckled at your bewildered expression.
“Happy Mother’s Day, love,” he said before pressing his masked lips to your temple. The receptionist, a brunette woman, smiled widely as the both of you approached.
“Good evening! Welcome to the Tour de Marbre!” she chirped, unphased by Simon’s appearance. You were still gaping at the decorations, watching as lobby boys and guests passed by.
“Evening. Reservation for Riley,” your husband stated matter-of-factly. She nodded before turning to her computer. She looked back up, her bright, blue eyes lit up when she saw you.
“That dress is absolutely lovely,” she complimented as she typed away. You grinned bashfully, shifting where you stood.
“Thank you,” you replied, your heels echoing along the polished marble floors. You looked up at Simon, wishing you could rip off his mask and kissing him deeply right then and there. His brown eyes met with yours as he squeezed your arm.
“You didn’t have to do this…this place looks so expensive,” you whispered worriedly. Simon tilted his head before leaning down to your ear.
“For you, my dear, it’s worth it,” your husband murmured back. Your heart nearly burst, warmth flooding into every corner of your chest. Just as you opened your mouth, the receptionist made a triumphant sound.
“All set!” the receptionist beamed as she slid two room keys to him. “You’ll be staying in Suite 808,” she hummed.
“Thank you,” Simon said. She nodded.
“Enjoy your stay!” she sang. You smiled, almost telling her the same thing before quickly sealing your lips. Both of you were quiet as you made your way up the elevator. The small enclosure smelled crisp as the doors closed gently. You immediately jumped up, not caring about any passerby who could walk in as you tackled him. He puffed out a quiet laugh as you kissed the sides of his mask repeatedly. “I take it you like your surprise?” he asked. Your grin was so wide, you thought the corners of your lips would have reached your ears.
“Thank you, thank you so much,” you breathed out. Simon smiled, holding you close as the elevator dinged.
“Of course, love. Anything for my lady,” he grinned. Your eyes scanned the hallway that was adorned with beautiful, dim lighting as you made your way to your room. Simon’s footsteps were nearly thunderous compared to yours as you moved through the labyrinth of rooms.
“Here we are,” he smiled. He tapped his card on the lock and the door clicked. You went to step inside, yet he kept a hand out. You knitted your brows.
“Hold on,” Simon said. You cocked your head as he slipped inside. He came back out, the bag removed from his shoulder. You released a small laugh when he showed you a silky cloth in his hand.
“Were you not kidding about the punishments you mentioned earlier?” you teased. Simon chuckled, though you didn’t miss the pink that filled his cheeks. He spun his finger in a circle. You sighed as you turned around, making sure to jut your hip out. You could practically feel him shake his head as he wrapped the fabric around you.
“You’re a little minx,” he muttered. You smirked, rubbing your ass against his crotch ever so slightly just to prove his point. Simon’s large hand gripped your waist. “Careful, love. Someone could see us,” he warned with a low growl. You tilted your head back, lips curled into a smirk. A low rumbling noise rose from his throat. “Such a naughty wife I’ve got on my hands. Maybe I should combine those punishments,” he rumbled while leading you inside, his hand sliding down to cup your ass.
Your heartbeat pounded percussively with each step you took. The scent of vanilla and rosewater immediately floods your senses, drawing you into a state of relaxation. Your body lurched forward slightly when Simon suddenly stops you.
"Let’s take our shoes off real quick,” he said. You nodded, hearing his dress shoes thud against the floor before he helped you out of your heels. You sighed when the cool air hit them, stretching your toes out.
“Alright. Keep your eyes closed, sweetheart,” he softly commanded. You nodded, biting your lip as he undid the knot. After the fabric fell, he stepped back. “Okay, you can open them now,” Simon said. You blinked a few times, your eyes adjusting to the shift of lighting. You nearly fell back into the wall. Before you was a plush bed sparingly covered in rose petals. Candles were lit on the nightstands, their soft glow the only light pouring across the merlot-colored room. You slowly turned to your husband, mouth agape. His mask was off now, resting on the dresser. He smiled with his hands tucked in his pockets.
“How…when?” was all you could mutter. He shrugged.
“I might’ve had a little help,” Simon said as he squished two of his fingers together. You crossed your arms.
“Johnny helped you, didn’t he?” you asked. His shoulders tensed.
“Maybe,” he replied curtly. You laughed before wrapping your arms around him.
“I love it. Thank you, babe,” you smiled. He grinned down at you, tilting his head so he could capture your lips in a deep kiss. You sighed and closed your eyes, soaking in his warm presence before his own arms circled around your form. Your heart raced as Simon pulled back, his eyes beaming as they raked up and down your body.
“What?” you giggled. His hands snaked down and grabbed at your ass. You squeaked as they moved beneath your thighs. Simon grunted as he carried you over to the bed, laying you down on the end. Your legs were draped over the rose-scented comforter as he hungrily kissed up the side of your face. You sighed blissfully when he took the shell of your ear in between his teeth.
“Fuck, you’re so gorgeous,” Simon breathed. You shivered, a wave of arousal shooting down your spine and straight into your empty cunt. You bit your lip as he hovered above you, his eyes staring deeply into yours.
“Si,” you cooed. He smiled before kissing down your jaw and suckling where it met with your neck. Your legs spread on their own as you arched your back.
“Such a sweet wife, you are,” he muttered, his hands wandering from your shoulders to gently rub over your breasts. You squirmed beneath him and yelped when he flipped you over, exposing your back to him. You felt Simon’s strong thighs cage around your waist as he sighed, his fingers gripping the zipper. You swallowed and turned your head to the side, watching him with enlarged pupils. Simon purred as he slowly undid your zipper. He leaned over, lips dancing over the shell of your ear.
“Let me take care of you tonight, love,” your husband hushed. You wiggled beneath him as he finished with your zipper.
“Please,” you begged softly, body burning like a raging fire. You heard him make a noise of approval as he spread your loose dress around your shoulders. Your mind was in a haze, thoughts scattered as he peeled your dress down. He shifted above you and tossed it aside. His chest rose and fell as he stared at your nearly naked form, how your bra and panties perfectly hugged all of your curves. Simon looked at you like you were the most delicious, succulent dessert: and all for him to indulge.
“Everything about you drives me wild,” Simon purred, his fingers undoing the clasp of your bra. You shifted your thighs together as heat rose to your cheeks. He groaned when he flung the bra elsewhere, his fingers dipping down and tracing over the curve of your spine. You shook, the feather-light touch making your pussy start to flood with arousal.
“Every curve,” his teeth nipped down your spine, making you shiver. “Every scar,” his hands splayed over your hips, rubbing the flesh in circles. You gasped as he pulled your panties down, a wet string of arousal clinging between your folds and the fabric. He groaned, his lips coming even further down, kissing over the globes of your ass before stopping just above your cunt. “Every stretch mark…everything makes me want to fuck you right into this mattress,” his hot breath fanned over your lower lips.
“Simon, please,” you gasped out. Your husband grunted before he grabbed your waist and slowly turned you back around. Your heart nearly ruptured in your chest when he eagerly spread your legs farther apart, mouth nipping at the stretch marks that adorned the inside of your thighs. He eyed you, silently asking for approval. You nodded, thrusting your hips towards his parted lips. "Please, baby-I want to feel you so badly," you whined. He growled before licking his lips, his hands splayed on the inside of your legs.
"Finally, been wanting to get a taste of your perfect pussy," he rumbled. You shuddered as he leaned down, pressing light kisses over your clit. You squealed as his lips puckered around your nub, applying just the right amount of pressure for your core to ignite.
"Oh God," you choked. A wave of bliss rolled over you just like how you rolled your hips on his broad chin. He smacked his lips before slipping his tongue out, gently sliding it across your puffy folds. You moaned when he licked a long, languid stripe up your gushing slit, tapping your clit once he reached the top. The tip of his wet muscle repeatedly flicked at your swollen nub, making your thighs clench.
“Simon, baby-feels so good,” you keened while arching your back. Simon groaned as your slick gushed into his mouth, his tongue swirling around your engorged nub. You moaned and rocked your hips at a faster pace, your wetness smearing across his chin. His eyes fluttered closed, his face mirroring that of a man devouring the most savory cuisine. You cried his name when he nibbled on your clit, capturing it between his teeth.
"You taste so sweet, doll,” Simon rumbled before diving back in. He pressed a full, open mouth kiss over your cunt, moaning as the full, heady taste of you spilled onto his tongue. You mewled, your breasts jiggling with each uneven breath you took. He shook his head side to side. You could feel heat begin to bubble up in your lower belly when his fingers came down and spread open your labia. His eyes glowed at the sight of your dripping, puckering hole. Your entire body shook as his tongue lashed at your aching pussy. Your hands came down and clung at his locks, bunching them in between your fingers.
He kept your lower lips spread open with his thick fingers as he painted an array of wet, sloppy ‘I-LOVE-YOU’S’ over your soaked cunt. You felt your eyes roll into the back of your head when he audibly slurped some of your arousal into his parched mouth.
“Si,” you cooed, your body shivering as you careened closer and closer to the precipice of your orgasm. He hummed into your pussy before spreading your entrance open with his wet muscle. You cried and shook around him as he thrusted his tongue in and out of your walls, hungrily lapping at your juices. “‘M gonna cum!” you slurred, arms now squeezing the sides of his head. Simon only sped up at your words, his tongue lashing into your shivering cunny. The whole room spun as you felt your walls constrict around his tongue before your hips snapped up.
“SIMON!” you wailed, legs shaking as you came into his mouth. He greedily ate your nectar, drawing out all you had to offer him while you rode out your high on his face. His nose bumped into your clit, sending waves of overstimulation crashing over you as you cooed and babbled, mind completely drunk with ecstasy. You whimpered when your love pulled his face back. Your eyes widened at the sight of his lower face completely drenched in your juices.
“I-I’m sorry. I didn’t realize how messy I was-” you blushed. You moaned when he took the slick off with his fingers and dipped them into his mouth. He hummed as he slipped them out slowly.
“Don’t apologize, sweetheart. What you call a mess, I call dessert,” he sighed before licking his lips. Lava coursed through your veins and spilled into your dripping cunt. You watched he slid off the bed, quickly stripping himself of his crisp outfit. You bit your lip as he unbuckled his belt, his pants and boxers falling to the floor not long after. Your eyes raked over his sculpted body, landing on his cock raised to the dimly lit ceiling. Simon gave you a wry grin as crawled over top of you. He leaned his face down.
“Gonna go slow this time. That alright?” Simon asked as he crawled back on top of you. You nodded your head. His hand came up to grip your chin, his fingers and thumb squeezing your cheeks. “Use your words, hun,” he said.
“Y-Yes,” you mewled, your hands coming up to grip his scarred upper back. Your husband groaned as he kissed you deeply, setting his length down over your folds. It was burning. Simon nodded, locking his lips with yours he grinded his hips into yours. You gasped, fingers clenching deeper into his shoulders with each delicate stroke of his dick. You whined when he slowed to a stop, only to feel your mouth swell with drool as he guided the tip of his throbbing cock to your weeping entrance.
"You ready, baby?" he asked. You shifted your hips upwards, his cock threatening to slip past your tight hole.
"Fuck me...please," you begged. His dark eyes lit up with a hungry gaze.
"Yes ma'am," he chuckled. He sucked in a sharp breath as he pushed himself inside of you. Your fingers curved into his back as his bulbous tip pressed into your walls, spreading your cunt wide open. “Fuck-you feel so good, baby,” Simon groaned as he reached farther into your heat. Both of you gasped as he bottomed out, his full balls lightly tapping against your ass.
“Simon,” you keened below him, gripping onto his back for dear life. His lips immediately found yours, his kiss only igniting the heat that spread across your body.
“What’s wrong, lovie?” he asked with furrowed brows. You shook your head, lips curved into a smile.
“Y-You just feel so good-filling me up,” you gasped as you felt his cock throb against your cervix. Simon groaned before stealing a heated kiss from you.
“Fucking hell,” he grunted when he parted from you. You playfully took his bottom lip between your teeth, nibbling on it gently. A deep rumble erupted from his throat as he began to pull his cock out. You felt your skin tingle from head to toe as he rocked his hips into you at a slow, tender pace. The vanilla and rose-scented room began to mix with the smell of sex as Simon raised your legs slightly, spreading them further with his leviathan grip. “So perfect, so good to me,” he growled as he began to pump into your pussy more deeply.
His cock stroked your gummy walls so deliciously, hitting the right spots every time. You keened and threw your head back as he pounded up into your g-spot, euphoria bursting from your core. Your sex squelched lewdly with every single hearty thrust, your slick from earlier gushing from where his cock was pistoning into you.
“Love you, Si. Love you so much,” you keened. Simon’s eyes snapped open, his pace relentless as he dove down to hungrily kiss your lips. You felt him fall towards you, spreading your legs farther up, causing him to sink even further into your clenching walls.
“I love you too, sweetheart. Love you-” his words were cut off when your walls spasmed around him, hugging his cock in a vice. Simon continued to pump his cock into you, helping you ride out your second orgasm. “That’s it, that’s my girl,” he cooed as you writhed below him, jaw slack as your body trembled with a warm ecstasy. You felt so heavy and light at the same time as your high began to fizzle out. The sound of your wet sex being relentlessly fucked would’ve made you blush had you not been swimming in a pool of bliss.
“Gonna cum soon, sweetheart. Where do you want me?” your husband asked, his head kissing your cervix with every snap of his hips. You moaned, his words seeming distant in your euphoria-clouded mind.
“I-Inside,” you slurred, your face painted with a deep crimson. He nodded before going into overdrive, pistoning his hips into you with a feral hunger. Simon growled when his whole body tensed, cock twitching inside your plush walls as he released rope after rope of his thick cum. He thrusted into you a few more times before slowly pulling out, his cock softening. He dramatically collapsed next to you, his lips quickly finding your cheek as he enveloped you in a bear hug. Both of you remained quiet, the only sounds in the room being both of you gasping for air.
“That was, that was incredible,” you smiled. Simon mirrored your expression, his eyes twinkling as he rocked you in his arms.
“Maybe we should do this every once in a while,” Simon said. You turned to face him.
“Have sex?” you teased. He chuckled and shook his head.
“You know I can’t resist you for that long, love,” he mused before pinching your asscheek. You scoffed and slapped him playfully. “No, I mean getting a hotel room and having the night to ourselves,” he stated. You hummed.
“That sounds lovely,” you sighed. He smiled, pressing soft kisses to your temple. “But…” you began. You were pleased when you emitted a gasp from him, guiding him to rest on his back before you straddled his hips. His brows shot up when you rubbed your soaked folds over his flaccid cock, a concoction of your slick and his cum smearing across his length. “Why don’t we focus on the here and now?” you asked coquettishly with a slow roll of your hips. His hands wandered up to your hips, his cock throbbing beneath your lewd ministrations.
“I like the way you think, Mrs. Riley,” Simon murmured with a wry grin.
Thank you for reading! ❤️
Price, answering his phone: Hello?
141Sweetheart: Hey Cap! Just wanted to call and tell you that Ghost made it to the med bay.
141Sweetheart looking at Ghost:
Ghost, eyes closed and not moving:
141Sweetheart, crying: HE'S D E A D
Ghost: I WAS JUST RESTING MY EYES
which one of the boys fits this scenario?
play fighting but things get kinda heated so now they’re fucking you from behind while having you in a headlock 😭
a/n: hm... my mind immediately went to gaz ;) anon u have a big brain, this awakened something... though I only see this happening if you two were in some kind of relationship other than platonic.
☾𓂃❛🍰❜┊ training in progress
warning(s): explicit content (18+), established relationship, p^rn w/ little plot, p in v sex, primal play??, size kink if you squint, breath play, degradation + praise, unsafe sex, fem!reader, no use of y/n
word count: 900 ♡ masterlist // requests // ask box
bf!gaz who always took his time with you, but wasn't afraid to give newer, more rash things a try. he thought about it before, though it seemed he was waiting for you to pitch the idea first. or more so... an opportunity.
bf!gaz who for once, wasn't thinking of those desires tonight. the two of you were "sparring" on the living room floor. well, more like; kyle pinning you with ease, taunting you, and then giving you seconds to flee.
bf!gaz who gave you a few seconds to crawl away and attempt to restrict his arms in any way. you kicked your legs into his toned abdomen, earning merely a grunt that only plunged him closer. ❝no, you don't!❞ gaz grunted, giving your legs a whack while twisting your torso; forcing you onto your stomach.
bf!gaz who snaked an arm around you, your neck pinned by the strength of his arm; a successful headlock. he had just now figured out he had his golden opportunity. what could you do, besides voice an actual refusal? which of course, hadn't happened yet. kyle grimaced to himself, other hand slithering down your stomach, soon finding the inside of your panties.
bf!gaz who both degraded and praised you for being aroused, ❝so fuckin' wet for me, good girl.❞ all he had done was wrestle with you and you had soaked your panties. perhaps it was all the grunting, the taunting, or how your legs found their way around his waist after each relentless pin he had you in. in other words, twenty minutes of pent-up sexual tension, disguised by a playful sparring session.
bf!gaz who wasted no time practically yanking your bottoms off you, all while your back has been against his chest, a helpless squirm to get out of the hold — yet no refusing the idea of him fucking you like this. his clothed erection, pressing against your rear, it only remained clothed for seconds, before kyle sprung it from his boxers.
bf!gaz who gave you no time to adjust to him, because he knew you would be good for him. his cock, dripping with pre-cum — guided with force into you slick core, before he began to thrust like it was the last time he'd ever be inside you. ❝such a slag, i bet you're enjoyin' this, aren't you?❞
bf!gaz who couldn't accept moans or whines as an answer. at least not tonight. the headlock you were in tightened, until you could barely suck in oxygen, ❝asked you a question.❞ he hissed into your ear, thrusting even rougher, as if to enhance his taunts.
bf!gaz who loosened his grip once he heard your attempt at a formal answer, smirking at every stammer in your sentence. though, despite you doing so well, this headlock was too enhancing to remove you from. kyle's full length, bottomed out inside you with each rut into your cunt, rasps growing in frequency and volume.
bf!gaz who was using his strength to his advantage, using you as if you were his own personal toy tonight — to be manipulated into whatever position he desired until he finished. ❝don't whine, you asked for this. christ... can't believe this is all mine.❞ his forearm dug into your neck again, like a python had slithered around your throat. he was close, seconds from spilling his seed inside you.
bf!gaz whose groans were insignificant compared to the sounds of skin slapping echoing through the living room, combined with your incoherent babbling and gasps for air.
bf!gaz who knew he would cum in seconds, using his pressing weight to pin you against the floor, head raised from the hold. ❝gonna cum inside this cunt, make it mine, hm?❞ you were seeing ebony spots, but so deep in pleasure that it didn't matter. if anything, the constriction was only tightening the sensation of his pounding thrusts.
bf!gaz who came so hard he had to slow down, muscles tensing to the max — probably the last squeeze you could handle without passing out. his thrusts halted as he spurted his seed deep inside you, draining every last drop, a drawn-out curse right into your ear as his climax concluded.
bf!gaz who pulled out of you to watch the semen drip out of your cunt, down your legs, and some on the hardwood. you were out of the headlock, catching the breath you had lost while on your hands and knees. the act dropped when he asked if you were alright, earning a nod of approval from your fucked-out self — all you could muster. unlike earlier, a silent answer was more than acceptable.
... bf!gaz who wasn't done yet. he stroked himself for a few moments, then guided his cock into you again, re-inserting all the evidence of his last climax right back into you. it was near overstimulation, being rutted into all over again.
bf!gaz who went gradually this time; moderately paced thrusts into your cunt during the second round, holding your waist tenderly. this time no restriction on your airflow or your replies to his traunts and praises.
bf!gaz who kissed your clothed shoulder blades, sinking into the fabric of your shirt to hold his pace accountable. kyle felt the pool of wetness forming around his length — some slick from before, some from now, and some lubricant being his own seed. each agonizing thrust met with a wettened squelch from your soaked and core.
bf!gaz who knew you must be filled to the brim by now, literally and figuratively, but needed to cum again. this time, with less brute force. ❝so fuckin' good, sweetheart,❞ his methodical rutting continued, enough to make your eyes half-lidded. kyle's rhetocial question, answered by himself, and only himself; ❝should i make you cum this time? i think you've earned it.❞
Be gentle, man!
Synopsis: You and the team go undercover to a dinner where high-profile guests are invited. You need to acquire vital information while acting posh at the same time. Good lord, help you all.
Relationship: Simon "Ghost" Riley x F!Reader, Task Force 141 x F!Reader
Word Count: 1,519 (approx. 6-7 min reading time)
This is the second (and final) part of the story but you can read it as a oneshot. Here’s Part 1 if you’re interested.
No warnings; casual read with platonic relationships.
The Athenian Palace: You’ve heard of the place a few times, mainly through the news, but never had the chance to visit. And why would you? Are you the president of a country? A diplomat? A wealthy businessperson with significant influence over government decision-makers? No, you are just a soldier among the many considered expendables. Your duty is to protect your country with your life—the same country that many attending the event have a vested financial interest in.
But today, everything is different. Today, you’re supposed to act like someone who comes from money.
For the past month, you and the rest of the team have undergone extensive training in formal dining, conversation, walking, and dancing. Everyone has adapted to their undercover personas somehow, except for Price, who couldn’t accompany you since he’s been undercover in a similar instance some years ago and poses a threat to the mission if he gets recognised.
Gaz required the least training among the four of you. You haven’t yet determined if he was naturally suited for this role or if his assigned persona was more straightforward than the rest. Nevertheless, he seemed comfortable conversing about the tech industry and acting like James Sinclair, the alleged tech entrepreneur.
On the other hand, Soap was the complete opposite of Gaz. Your etiquette instructor, Lady Theodora, struggled to mould him, but he always found a way to break free. Eventually, she found the tipping point to channel Soap’s extravagance to benefit the mission.
“What would you do if you were a trust fund child?” She asked, to which Soap replied that he would be “poised and all” but at the same time act “like Paris Hilton in the 2000s.” And that’s how Maxwell Vanderbilt—or “you can call me Max,” according to Soap—was born: with a mohawk, a loose-fitting suit, and an unchallenged attitude. You hated to admit it, but he was the most authentic and convincing among the four of you.
As for you and your Lieutenant, you were still adjusting to your role as a couple, particularly with the required intimacy. Yet, with Lady Theodora’s help, you managed to get closer, even if that involved a few unorthodox ways of doing things. One day, for example, she duck-taped your hands together and ordered you to spend the entire day together. She taught you how to dance, touch each other in public, and show, without telling, how you and Ghost— or Sir Ethan K. Wood—would infiltrate the facility and gather vital information as a couple.
He hated the name. “Why should I pretend to be fucking Ethan?” He asked, but Lady Theodora explained that it was a name forged by Laswell and she could do nothing about it. And when you told him you were named “Constance”, he spitted out his drink and immediately became grateful to Sir Ethan K. Wood.
Arriving in a Maserati Levante, you were greeted by a team of three people, two opening your doors and one guiding your hand as you stepped out of the car.
You wrap your arm around Ghost and approach the entrance.
As you walk through the imposing double doors, the room reveals itself in all its glory—a high ceiling decorated with murals stretch towards the heavens. The ballroom’s walls are draped in exquisite fabrics of gold and burgundy while crystal chandeliers cast a soft glow, illuminating the space and creating an inviting and elegant atmosphere.
The ballroom’s focal point is a large dance floor. It invites guests to dance while a live orchestra, hidden in a corner, fills the room with melodies. Surrounding the dance floor, elegant tables decorated with crisp linens showcase elaborate floral centrepieces, while towering candelabras provide additional illumination.
You look at the guests; men wear tailored tuxedos, and women glide in flowing gowns and sparkling jewellery. Your gaze shifts to Ghost, who looks dashing in a three-piece navy suit, a matching tie, and a white handkerchief in his chest pocket.
“Are you ready, my dear?” You ask with fake confidence.
“Ah, my love,” Ghost replies, “in for a penny...”
“... in for a fucking pound.”
“Language, Constance.” He corrects you sternly.
You enter the crowd, mingling with the elite. Ghost introduces you as his wife, guiding you with a firm yet gentle touch on your back. Engaging in conversation, you discuss the land you supposedly own, the inflation—that most people in the room are the direct cause of—and collectively sorrow over the economy’s current state. All this while sipping champagne from crystal glassware that’s worth more than your annual salary.
Among the guests, you spot Soap conversing with a group of Wall Street figures. He appears relaxed, holding a glass of whiskey with an orange peel garnish.
“Ah, what can you do?” You hear his Scottish accent echoing in the room. “It’s a self-regulating market, after all.”
Lots of things baffle you in this world. Soap, talking about self-regulating markets with a bunch of Golden Boys who nod and agree with him just added another paradox to your list.
“Darling,” Ghost says, with his hand finding yours and interlacing your fingers, “dinner will be served shortly; let us find our table.”
You approach your seats, and Ghost pulls out a chair for you. As you settle in, you look around at the surrounding tables, searching for familiar faces. Gaz, sporting a suit with no tie and fake glasses, is seated at the table next to yours and talks with the people around him.
The evening unfolds with a symphony of courses served with artistic precision. Each dish arrives like a work of art—a culinary masterpiece. You apply Lady Theodora’s training and indulge in the exquisite feast while engaging polite conversations. You observe and listen closely to the guests’ discussions, hoping to obtain any valuable information that might aid your mission.
With dinner concluded, everyone moved to the ballroom for the entertainment segment. Ghost discreetly signals for you to follow him. Excusing yourselves, you navigate the corridors of the Athenian Palace, with the music and chatter fading as you reach the server room.
“This is it,” Ghost whispers as he approaches the servers. “The information we need should be here. You need to get to work.”
You nod and navigate the complex digital landscape, leveraging your technical expertise to penetrate the encrypted files. Meanwhile, Ghost maintains a vigilant watch and stands guard, ensuring no unexpected disruptions throw a wrench into your plans. Each creak or distant voice makes him reach for the gun in his inner jacket pocket.
Minutes pass like hours. Suddenly, your face lights up.
“Got it!” you shout, and Ghost brings a finger to his lips, urging you to keep quiet.
“Got it!” You repeat, this time in a whisper.
“Good girl,” he replies softly, “now let’s go find the others and get the fuck out of here.”
You begin your return to the ballroom, but things feel strange this time. The calm conversations surrounding the place have turned to screams, and the music sounds somewhat different than when you left the hall.
Ghost puts a hand in front of you and stops you.
“What’s going on, Constance?” he asks, concerned.
“Let’s find out, my love,” you reply, loading the pistol strapped to your thigh.
You run through the corridors, but there’s no one there—it sounds like everyone has gathered in the main hall.
Just before entering the ballroom, you compose yourself, adopting the poised stance Lady Theodora taught you. You enter the hall to uncover the reason behind the change in atmosphere.
Soap stands on a table in the centre of the ballroom, flipping his mohawk from left to right in sync with the rhythm of “Macarena”, played by the orchestra. Ties are now worn as headbands, and champagne glasses have become shots.
Dumbfounded by the spectacle unfolding right before your eyes, you approach Gaz.
“Ga-James, what’s the deal with all this?” You ask while looking at Soap dancing on the table.
Gaz chuckles, adjusts his fake glasses, and points towards Soap. “This fucking genius had a brilliant plan to create a diversion while you two were working your magic behind the scenes.”
Ghost raises an eyebrow. “So, this whole… thing is Soap’s way of keeping the spotlight off us?”
Gaz nods. “Exactly, mate. Soap figured throwing a wild party would divert the security’s focus from their employer’s safety.”
You look at Soap, who has now started a conga line. “If their employer is too drunk and occupied, they won’t care about outside threats,” you utter.
“Indeed,” Gaz says, “they have a whole other worry; their employer not getting any more shitfaced.”
“That audacious, brilliant motherfucker,” Ghost shakes his head in awe, “he just created the perfect cover for our mission.”
Soap notices you looking at him and raises his hands triumphantly. He looks so proud of his achievement. He brings his thumbs to his chest and mouths something.
“What is he saying?” You ask, confused.
Ghost’s lips curve up, and he leans towards you.
“He says,” he whispers in your ear, “like Paris Hilton in the 2000s.”
Soap's mistake haunts him
part 1; (Soap making fun of your moans)
Warnings: angsty as fuck, shy!reader, insecurities, triggered fear of intimacy very much self-indulgent, reader is short, mentions of past abusive relationships.
and he learns the hard way.
eventually, when you do decide to forgive him, he's already on his knees, begging for an ounce of your attention.
"I'm so sorry, bonnie."
"I know, Johnny." you cradle his head against your chest, trading your fingers through his hair. "Never do that again, okay?"
No matter how soft you cooed, Soap knows a threat when he hears one. Ears perked at the sound of your words, the sharp edge to them, despite how sweet the tone.
"Never again." he pulls back, eyes remorseful as he gazes at you. "I've learned my lesson."
You hum, smiling. "Let's hope so."
for a time, things are good.
he is all too relieved when you settle next to him on the couch for movie nights.
he all but drags all of your stuff back from the guest room.
your pijamas, night gowns, skin care products, everything goes back to your shared room.
"where it all belongs." he says with a smile as he kisses the side of your head.
but there comes a time when you and him are making out of the couch.
when his hands wander a little too far
when his kisses turn a little too heated
when he tips your back against the couch and gently lays between your legs.
"I missed this..." he murmurs lowly into your mouth. "I missed you."
You missed him too. So much. His touch was all you could think of in the last few weeks/months. You missed his weight on top of yours. You missed the warmth of his hands. You missed the molten warmth of his lips on your skin.
But when his hands skim too far down, slipping underneath your skirt, tugging your panties, you freeze. All too quickly, the sound of his mockery floods your head and you're just punched out of the present time.
But Soap, ever so perceptive notices that something's wrong and he's pulling back, worry painting his expression.
"What's wrong?" he asks, his breathing a little heavy from the excitement, hand cupping your cheek. "Did I hurt you?"
"N-no, I..." Your eyes couldn't meet his. Your shoulders drew in. "I'm sorry."
You didn't want to have to say it. To bring it up felt... foolish. You don't want him making fun of you for being stuck up in the past too. You've had enough of that from previous boyfriends.
"It's okay." Johnny places a kiss on your forehead. "We can do this some other time."
he's a little disappointed but it's fine, if you're not ready, he won't push.
but he is concerned.
the way you reacted frightened him.
like his touch jolted your nerves and not in a good way.
not in the way he likes.
and he wants to talk to you about it.
Soap doesn't think he hurt you that one time. he truly hopes he didn't.
but the forlorn expression on your face haunts him.
it wears down on him whenever he wants to initiate sex.
it's to the point where he tries to avoid the subject altogether.
not for long tho.
the second or third time he tries and gets the same result, he has to sit you down and have a talk with you
not because he wants to demand sex, no, he would never.
it's because he is just riddled with guilt.
"Tell me wha' I'm doin' wrong, love." He holds your hands in his, but you won't look at him. "You don't have to lie if I'm hurting you—"
Johnny would never forgive himself if he hurt you like that. He'd never live with himself knowing that you would've rather kept quiet to appease his desires than speak up if you didn't want to be intimate with him.
He hoped that with the time you and him have spent building a solid foundation for a relationship, that scenario would never come to pass because you're not afraid of him.
"You're not!" you try to placate him, but your voice becomes weaker and weaker the more you speak, "You're not hurting me, okay? I just— I'm... I..."
You don't trust him.
It's blatantly clear, even if you won't say it out loud. And it cuts him deep.
reminds me of the time i panicked and violently recoiled when my bf (at the time) touched my ass while we were making out... yeah...
part three :)
Support my Kofi
@sofasoap @sodonuthideout @wickzbby
omg congrats for 5k doll! i wanted to slide in and see if i could have a protective!bf Gaz written since my baby is so underappreciated??? i saw this tweet about the scene in mw where gaz's disabling a bomb and is unable to and price throws the guy off the balcony, but this time the bomb in strapped to his love and he's and he's struggling and sees price out of the corner of his eye and remembers what happens last time and panicks and goes all 'you won't do that to her'. just a thought, love all your work!
—Don't Look At Her
⇢ ˗ˏˋ 5k Drabble Masterlist ࿐ྂ
╰┈➤ ❝ [The bomb starts ticking down, rapidly firing to zero. Gaz won't let Price near you. Not after he'd remembered the Captain's actions when they'd first met.] ❞
"Gaz," your voice wavers, watching the rapidly working man and seeing his darting eyes—lit with panicked fervor. He doesn't answer, so you speak again. "Gaz!"
"No!" He barks, brown eyes instantly meeting yours. Lips pull in a right frown; there's a glint in his gaze that you'd never seen before—not in the many years you'd known him. Kyle's firm hands don't leave the wiring attached to your chest. The vest.
"No, Love," he grates out, immediately getting back to work as you try to keep your tears at bay, body jerking back and forth as your boyfriend pulls at the straps and bits. "Don't even say anything. You're going to fucking fine, you hear? It's going to be okay."
It was the product of bad intel, really. You'd been sent in without the proper know-how, leading to a scuffle where the butt of a gun had been slammed into your temple. When your eyes opened again, it was already too late.
Kneeling in the middle of a large office building, the glass of the windows shattered behind you, and the wind whips the back of your skull aggressively, you stare down at Gaz. Trying to form words on a tongue that won't cooperate.
"You need to run," you whisper out, resigning yourself as the rapid beeping increases. Your heart moves so fast you can't feel the skin of your chest anymore. "Kyle," pleading, you watch his jaw clench something fierce. "Listen to me—!"
"I'm not leaving you!" A sharp snap of a metal piece hits your ears, the piece of the vest clattering to the ground in a violent display of desperation. Gaz glances back up at you stubbornly; as if uncaring about the impending incineration only minutes away. "So you stop bloody talking like that, yeah? I'm not just giving up!"
The sides of your eyes dribble out rabid tears, lungs a mess of air and inhales that can't even be considered breathing anymore by how wheezy they sound.
How would it feel? Exploding into a patchwork of blood and fire—instantaneous, sure, but feeling Kyle's heat and his puffs of air; his fear, you can't imagine him dying like that. Not him.
"Look at me," Gaz pants, fingers pulling at cords in search of the one he needed to cut—unable to pinpoint it through the hack-job that had been done to your vest.
There was every color under the sun except fucking yellow. His teeth clench so tight they hurt his jaw, but he sends you quick glances as you shakily do as he says.
Brown eyes soften, and while the both of your hands shake, for a second there's a relief at the eye-contact. "Repeat it, Love."
You lick your lips and stammer, "y-you're not leaving."
Lips press firmly into yours, and you clench your eyes tight at the sensation, tiny sob breaking the contact.
"That's right." Gaz growls. "Not on my life."
Rapid footsteps race into the room, but before the Sergeant can reach for his weapon, the familiar call from the Captain echoes out.
"Friendly!" It's as if Gaz doesn't even register, still digging and fearfully looking at the timer.
50 seconds. 49. 48. 47...
"Sergeant," Price jogs over. You can barely find the inner strength to look up at him. "Sitrep."
Blue eyes dart from the vest to you and the Captain's serious face goes grim. His expression flashes with the inner workings of his mind, eyes narrowing and a grunt stuck under his lips.
"I have it," Gaz speaks quickly, and the words strike you as odd, though you don't comment. Price slid him a sharp look.
"Don't even look at her." Snarling like an animal, brown orbs are volatile enough to rend stone in two as they meet the older man's. You and John are rendered speechless, sharing a swift glance in shock like teenagers hearing their parents swear for the first time.
Kyle's eyes are wild, sweat slicking his brow. "Come fucking on!" He yells and your body is snapped forward as Gaz pries on the straps, having to steady yourself on the man's shoulders for support. Every muscle in his body is taunt; shaking with force.
Perhaps it was the memory that invaded his brain like a parasite that had made him snap at his superior like that—a stab to his fine tissue that digs all the way down his rail-straight spine.
Piccadilly Circus. Tanto building. Hostage with an explosive vest.
Kyle's fingers bleed as they peel back rough velcro, having ripped off his gloves to be nearer to you.
It all flashes past his mind in horrible increments, the past, but instead of a man—the hostage is you. And Price was burning his neck with a harsh stare once more.
He's going to throw her out the window, Kyle panics and you watch with the deadly realization of the situation. No. No, I won't let him. Not her.
"Garrick," Price says, voice deep. But he doesn't move. "You need to get your head back on."
"I've got it screwed on just right, Captain." Gaz grunts. "Trust me."
12 seconds. 11. 10. 9...
You stare at Gaz and memorize the make of his handsome face—the dates and the late nights speaking about the future sticking to your skin like leeches; sucking away every instance of love and happiness. His laugh. His brown eyes.
Oh, you want to see your Love smile.
"Sergeant!" Price yells, moving forward to grapple onto Kyle's shoulder. "It's going off!"
Your boyfriend rips out of his hold, fists clenched and screaming.
"Get the fuck off of me! I can save her!" Your back hits the ground with a slap and a ragged gasp from your lips, the Brit straddling your hips in a desperate play to deactivate the bomb.
"Kyle," you look up at him, pleading. "You have to take cover, it's...it's okay. I love you, I need you to know that—"
"Bloody shut," eyes spark, locking on the bright color under the front of the vest. Gaz snaps a hand under the material and rips at it in a ruthless wrench of his arm. 2 seconds. There's a deafening snap of wire. "Up!"
The beeping stops and the world stills.
Your wide eyes can't stop crying as you stare up into brown eyes with astonishment; struggling to breathe. You can't tell if the building is vibrating or only you, but nothing seems to be able to focus as a wave crashes down on you; adrenaline still striking you.
Everything rings inside of your ears, pounding in your head.
Hands grasp the base of your jaw and lips descend to yours, tears slapping your skin from above in a wave of feral agony. Gaz stifles his sob on your mouth as you shake wildly, panting over your flesh.
Price gives off a large sigh from behind, standing straighter and turning his head.
Gaz's forehead connects with yours, but there are no words to be said—just the silent gazing and lingering fear of death. He won't let go of your cheeks, and, quivering, you go to grasp tightly at the sides of his arms.
With a shuddering breath, he closes his eyes and sags into you.
@luuvbuzz, @emerald-valkyrie, @anna-banana27, @blueoorchid, @cryingnotcrying, @writeforfandoms, @homicidal-slvt, @jade-jax, @frazie99, @elmoees, @littlemisstrouble, @alpineswinter, @phoenixhalliwell, @idocarealot, @lavalleon, @facelessmemories, @h-leigh, @20forty9, @glitter-anon-asks, @emily-who-killed-a-man, @neelehksttr, @aeneanc, @escapefromrealitysm, @i-d-1-0-t, @pparcxysm, @hawkscanendme, @caramlizedtomatos, @konigsleftkidney, @sanfransolomitatm, @maelstrom007, @jemandderkeinenusernamenfindet, @pheobees, @glitterypirateduck, @uselsshuman, @fan-of-encouragement, @halfmoth-halfman, @ghostlythunderbird, @I-inkage, @pukbadger, @kopatych11, @0nceinabluem00n, @cocrorapop, @knightofsexyness, @abnormalgeil, @smallseastone, @jacegons, @330bpm-whiplash, @simon-rileys-housewife, @4-atsu, @tiredmetalenthusiast
Oh stars I absolutely love your stuff!! :3 Any chance you could write Ghost who likes to call his average height partner short to get on their nerves that ends with smut where Simon manhandles them to show how small they are compared to him? Again I love your work ♡♡♡
I'm glad you enjoy my work! I hope you'll continue to do so!
Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem!Reader
Tags: nsfw, smut, being manhandled, size difference, degradation, objectification, size kink, brat taming, dom!Simon
A/N: I would give Simon attitude just to see what he'd do. I just hope I wouldn't annoy him with it haha.
Simon often uses his superior height to his advantage. He takes your coffee mug and holds it up, demanding a kiss if you want it back, he lifts you up when you need to reach for something instead of simply reaching for it himself, and of course it's all to easy for him to pin you down against the bed to fuck you senseless.
"You make it too damn easy for me, babygirl. At least give me a bit of a challenge every now and again. I could put you into any position I want and use you like a toy. You're about the size of one. My cute funsized girlfriend. What's that look for? You know it's true."
He often hears you argue about how you're of average height, he's just the size of a fucking mountain. Besides he should be lucky to have you be as open-minded about his size as you are. When you saw his enormous cock you wanted it stretching your pussy out, no fear or hesitation from you.
"Quite the size queen. I was a little surprised at how easily you agreed to taking someone my size in your little hole. I had no idea you had so many toys to practice with beforehand. Makes me happy you went out of your way to prepare yourself for me."
Since he's going on and on about how short you are maybe he could fuck his own toys cause he's starting to get real annoying real fast. But he's not hurt when you pull away from his kiss, he can see the smile on your lips, he knows what it means. You're being a fucking brat, and you need to be put in your place. You need to be thrown on the bed, naked, ass up, hands held behind your back and have your pussy railed open by his cock.
"Should have known this was your plan. All those times I called you short, compared you to my sex toy, never guessed you really wanted to be treated as one. Fine then. If you're gonna be that way I have no choice, I'll be using your holes all night tonight okay? Say yes, come on baby, I need to hear you want it. I need to hear you say you want to be my fuckdoll."
Playing Dangerous- Keegan P. Russ NSFW
F!Reader, P-in-V, unprotected sex, smut, MDNI, 18+, police officer!Keegan, f!ngering
Everybody knows I'm a good girl officer
A night routine by this point, you driving home alone so late. A suspicious police officer, doing a check-up routine on his usual route. He stops you once he notices that your taillight is not working. You, as always play the temptress when an officer stops you. You adjust your chest and look innocent yet seductive for whoever dares to stop you.
"Ma'am, do you know why I pulled you over?" he leans over, blue eyes looking into yours. "Well, no officer, but I'm sure you'll explain?" You look up at him, innocent voice yet hinting at more. "Well yes, your taillight seems to not be working, you'll have to make sure to get that fixed." There was more he wanted when he noticed how you leaned over and made sure your chest was showing.
"I won't get arrested over this, officer?" It is a sweet game to play innocent and a little stupid with men like him. He chuckles, "No, ma'am, although this is a warning, okay?"
"Will this be on some sort of record?"
"Can I do something to make sure it doesn't get there?"
He lets out a soft chuckle and makes sure to adjust his composure. "And what would that be, sugar?"
"Why don't we get in the back of your cop car, officer? and you can ask me anything you want, anything." You look up at him, with lust. You look at his left hand then smirk, "Do you have a girl? I don't see a ring on your finger."
"Want to be my girl for the night?" Just like that, he was hooked. Sex and being bored, what an exciting combination for you. You get out of your car and he leads you to his. He opens the back door and you both get in. You slowly unbutton his shirt, "What a bad officer." You begin to kiss his neck only for him to make sure your legs open up for him. He pushes your panties to the side and teases your entrance. You let out a soft moan and his trousers' bulge grows increasingly.
When you unzipped them and took his already hard cock out, the size surprised you, what a big man he is. "C'mon, sugar. You can take it, be a good girl for this officer, yeah?" His hands stroke your hair and you nod. "Obedient little thing," he says and slowly guides you to his tip.
Your tongue slicks and kisses the tip, earning soft moans from him. After that, you began to stroke his cock as you went back up to kiss him. He attempted to pull away but was unable to because of the undeniable attraction towards you. "I shouldn't," he mumbles in between kisses. "You already have me touching you, might as well enjoy." Your kisses trailed down to his jaw and neck.
He then moved you to straddle his hips, your panties tossed to the side of the back seat as you slowly pushed his tip further into your tight cunt. Keegan let out a soft gasp as he felt your insides, it took seconds for him to go deeper, letting you adjust to his size. His hand was on your back while the other reached your neck to hold you in place.
"You're going to ruin me, R/N" He whispers as he returns your neck kisses.
"Good, that's a good officer." Your hand was on his shoulder, your hips moving slowly. Keegan let out a quiet groan, his grip on the back of your neck tightening slightly. "Fuck, R/N, you really know how to treat a police officer," he whispers, his voice heavy with desire. You moan and push him deeper into the seat, he throws his head back and bites his lips as he tries to maintain control of himself. "R/N," He moans becoming shallow. "Please..." was all he could manage to say.
His large cock ruined your insides, moulding your wet cunt for his size. Most of himself couldn't fit inside of you, so you leaned a little forward and stroked what couldn't fit. You slightly bounce on his hips, and his fingers find their way to your clit and start to finger you, you let out a loud moan. What a sweet way to make you pay for making him get closer to cumming. His hand still gripping your neck the more you made him get closer.
It was unlike him to not have so much stamina but what a good pussy you must have. As he was also making you get closer to climaxing, you knew you had to make him cum at least a few more times. A man with his size and godly touches to your sweet cunt deserves more than cumming once.
"R/N," Keegan's voice faded as he groaned. his head tilted back once more, his body tensing up and freezing. He let out a loud gasp before collapsing back into the seat, his voice barely a whisper. "I, uh..." He giggled, his face and neck red in embarrassment. His cock still throbbing inside of you. "I'm- Sorry... I couldn't..." He panted, his chest rising and falling deeply as he caught his breath. His thick cum leaked down your thighs, he had cummed so much in you that it was all leaking.
But you weren't done, not after he left you wanting your climax. You placed his hand on your clit, "Make me cum, please" Your hips continued to move as he let out a whiny moan. As he rubbed your now throbbing clit, his neck kisses intensified. "Aren't you a handsome cop?" You smile then moan. "I could arrest you right now for that." He teased, his voice breaking as you continued to ride him. He was impatient and wanted to make you cum so you could only focus on him and his pleasures. You gasp, your hands on his knees and you lean back, watching him finger your cunt and fuck you with his massive cock. Cum still leaking from you.
You lean forward, legs trembling as he fucks his size into you. Your moans are so pornographic and only for his ears. "Fuck...fuck fuck fuck,..just like that..yes..I..fuck...ah...ahh." Your voice turned from soft moans to whimpers to loud moans. You gasp and then relax on his chest as he finally makes you cum, your juices mixing with his inside. He flicks your hardened nipples that are visible through your shirt, he bites them and then looks at you. So sensitive and still recovering.
You wanted to please him more, your hips moving once more, earning a moan from him. Keegan couldn't hide the moan, his eyes closing as he enjoyed such a moment. "Stop... Stop doing that." He muttered, his free hand reaching out to grab your chin.
"I can't handle it." He groaned. What a sensitive thing you had turned him into. You pace growing fast, his eyes shot open and he let out a loud groan. He tightened his hand around your chin, his fingers digging into your skin. "My girl, I will break..." He whispered. "Good, I want you to," you kiss his neck. Your pace continues, his cock on the verge of yet another orgasm. He whimpered loudly, his body tensing up and remaining still for a moment as you kissed his neck. His fingers dug in deeply as if he was using your chin as a coping mechanism.
"I- oh..." He started, his voice faded and breathy. "I might...fall too hard for you," he whispered. You lean in and whisper, "This is how I show my gratitude, officer." You reach for the part of his already sensitive cock that didn't fit in, and you stroke it. He breathed out heavily, his eyes closed and lips parted. What a mess you are making him. "You... you have no idea what you're doing," he whispered, his free hand reaching for your chest. "My... I'm losing control." And just like that, he came inside of you, filling you up for the next days to come, that's for sure.
Keegan's eyes fluttered open. He tried to reach for a word in response, but all he could do was sit there and whimper. He was completely out of control, unable to think of anything but the pleasure you brought him. In the heat of the moment, he didn't realize how tightly his hand was digging into your chin. You kiss his neck and lean into him, he holds you there, you both panting and resting. He kisses your forehead, his cum now dripping down your thighs to his. "You...you are a goddess, R/N." He whispers and strokes your hair.
A/N: I needed big cock Keegan as much as @snowberrycherry did, so you are all now welcome. :)
mdni, tw smut. the groceries will be fine, babe, don't worry. he just can't keep his hands to himself, not when you look so pretty in your little babydoll dress. keegan's so apologetic, but he just can't wait to get back home when you're looking so ripe for the taking right now.
"what the fuck, kee!" you snapped at your husband, your feet lifting just a bit as the elevator came to a complete abrupt stop. his cobalt blue eyes twinkled with mischief, a subtle smirk tugging at his lips as he set the several tote bags full of groceries on the polished floor.
you and keegan had just finished grocery shopping for the rest of the week, but he had spent the entirety of the late morning focused on the sight of your plush ass cheeks squeezed into an ivory mini dress. the thin fabric left little to the imagination, sculpting your ass perfectly while the ruffle-trimmed hem brushed against the middle of your cute thighs whenever you reached for a pantry item just barely out of reach.
thank god he was a few inches taller than you, his height providing him with the perfect line of sight to stare down your slightly exposed cleavage. it took everything in him not to bend you over and shove your face in the stock of produce while you inspected the ripeness of lemons.
but now, he finally had you all to himself and was tired of waiting. keegan's arms snaked around your waist, pulling your body close to him as his hands found their place along your waist. his thumbs rubbed at the soft cotton fabric of your dress, drawing circles against your hips while his lips captured you in a desperate kiss. you were taken aback, gasping into the kiss, prompting him to slip his tongue between your lips.
"couldn't help myself, darlin'," his kisses trailed down the side of your face, his tongue licking at the smooth skin of your jawline. he lifted you up, your legs locking around his waist as he pressed your back against the cool metal of the elevator. "been wantin' to fuck you all mornin', doll."
keegan's hands trailed down to your ass, giving the fat of your ass cheeks a firm squeeze with a sly smirk once he realized you wore nothing underneath. "such a naughty little minx," he whispered against your skin with an open-mouth kiss, his fingertips brushing against the slick folds of your cunt, collecting a thin layer of your arousal. "no panties, huh? plannin' for me to stuff this pretty pussy with my cock?"
"y-yes, kee," you whimpered, arms wrapped around his neck. keegan's fingers swirled around the entrance of your cunt, spreading the remnants of your slick around with a teasing touch. "w-wanted to s-show you when w-we got home," your hips bucked against him, poorly attempting to grind your sopping cunt against his fingers.
"don't worry, doll," keegan tsked, his body shifting against you as the sharp hiss of his jeans zipper filled the air. "gonna give ya all ya want, baby girl."
keegan's hips snapped up into you, driving your body further against the elevator's wall. your nails dug into his shoulders, the grip of your legs around his waist tightening as he bounced his weight against you. he drove into you with a quick rhythm, the symphony of skin slapping and loud moans echoing through the tight space. your forehead leaned into the crook of his neck, and your eyes squeezed shut as he buried every inch of his cock deep inside you.
your throat was hoarse from your moans, and your mouth was starting to dry out from the cries you let out as he stretched you beyond your limits.
"d-damn— would ya listen to that, darlin'," keegan cooed into your ear, his voice soft and low compared to the brutality of his thrusts. you whimper out a whine in return, your mind too fucked out to say anything in return. "gettin' dumb on me, princess, fuckin' soakin' for me,"
you shook your head in protest, your adorable whines growing louder in unison with the messy, squelching noises beneath the two of you.
"keegan.. keegan.. holy f-fucckk—" and, before you know it, you're creaming all around his shift, your tight walls spasming against him while his reddened tip continued to bully your g-spot.
"came so quick f'me, doll," keegan says in a quiet voice, his thrusts slowing down to a languid pace. he's burying himself balls deep into you, your body slack against him. his fingers brushed stray hairs from your face, his lips pressing a kiss to your forehead as he purrs, "can't get enough of ya, doll, gonna stay like this for a little while longer—"
"what about the fresh meat cuts, kee," you whined, your tired half-lidded eyes swelling keegan's chest with pride. you always looked too cute after cumming, your expression causing keegan's cock to throb inside you.
"don't worry about that, darlin'," he purrs with a sly smile, shifting you in his arms for a better grip. "just focus on my meat, ok?"