just a massive simp

you mean the world to me ✨ she/they ✨ pansexual | semi-nsfw multifandom monster fucker writing blog: @hungryhornet

[bnanamlkluvr]

𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 just an angel lost in the wonders of mortal emotions and pleasure. drowning in the kisses that do not even linger along her skin, they phase through while she yearns.

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‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾. This blog contains mature content. Please do not interact if you are below the age of 18 and an ageless/blank blog.

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-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈ ANGEL, twenty-three, infj, she/they, aquarius

Content in my works of fiction may contain DARK THEMES, so please do take the time to read the tags before consuming any of the fics you read. Scroll away if you do not like the au, genre, or details of the fic; this blog is dedicated to those who find comfort in chubby self-inserts. Majority of these will be Female or Gender-Neutral 'x reader'.

I am currently not taking requests, but I shall let you all know beforehand.

ANGEL'S SANCTUARY ANGEL'S FREAKTOBER 2025

works in progress: - Head Detective!Yunho x Assassin!Reader - Priest!Choi San x Demonness!Reader - Song Mingi x Reader - Ex!Park Seonghwa x Ex!Reader - Office Junior!Yunho x Boss!Reader

© 2025 bnanamlkluvr. Do not copy, steal, or translate my work on any other sites

[ghostedink]

Packed with love.

୨୧⋅┈∘┈⋅⋅┈∘┈⋅୨୧⋅┈∘┈⋅⋅┈∘┈⋅୨୧ ⋅┈∘┈⋅⋅┈∘┈⋅ ୨୧

Simon Riley was a terrifying man to most people.

Six foot somethin’, broad as a doorframe, tattooed arms, permanent frown carved into his face like stone. The kind of man who could walk into a room and make conversations die mid-sentence.

Which was exactly why the bright pink lunchbox sitting on the briefing table looked so absurd.

Soap stared at it.

Then at Simon.

Then back at the lunchbox covered in tiny white hearts.

“…That yours, LT?”

Simon didn’t even glance up from cleaning his sidearm. “Obviously.”

Gaz coughed into his fist to hide a laugh. Price suddenly found the paperwork in his hands very interesting. Soap, unfortunately, feared nothing.

“Christ alive.” he muttered, lifting the lunchbox by two fingers. “It’s got a bow on it.”

Simon’s eyes lifted slowly.

Dangerously.

Soap set it back down immediately. The room went quiet for all of three seconds before Gaz spotted the sticky note attached to the handle.

Pink ink. Curly handwriting.

Don’t forget to actually eat today. I mean it!— ♡

There was even a lipstick kiss pressed onto the corner. Soap made a strangled noise. “SHE LEFT YE A WEE KISS MARK.”

Simon took the note off carefully before Soap could touch it with his grubby hands. He folded it once and tucked it into the pocket of his vest with complete seriousness, like it was something precious.

Because it was.

“You keep those?” Gaz asked before he could stop himself. Simon gave him a look that practically said watch your mouth.

“Aye.”

The boys exchanged glances.

Not because Simon had a partner. They all knew that. And not because Simon was soft with you. They knew that too. It was the fact he never acted embarrassed about it.

Ever.

Didn’t hide the matching pink phone charger you bought him because he “always stole yours anyway.” Didn’t complain when you painted tiny strawberries on his phone case. Didn’t care that his keys now had fluffy pink pompoms hanging off them because you’d smiled so proudly while showing him. The man simply accepted every little piece of you with both hands.

Like loving you loudly was the easiest thing in the world.

Later that afternoon, Simon finally opened the lunchbox during break. Inside was organized chaos. Pink Tupperware containers stacked perfectly. Heart-shaped strawberries. A sandwich cut neatly in half. Little notes tucked everywhere.

One on the drink—

Hydrate or I’ll become evil.

One on the fruit—

You’re handsome. That’s unrelated, I just thought you should know.

And one folded beneath the sandwich.

Simon opened it quietly.

Miss you already. Come home safe so I can kiss you properly instead of leaving lipstick on paper.

His eyes softened instantly.

Not dramatic.

Not obvious.

Just enough that Price noticed from across the room and looked away to give the man some privacy. Soap, however, leaned over his shoulder with zero survival instinct.

“Awwww—”

Simon shoved him back without heat.

“Piss off.”

But there was no bite to it.

Soap grinned. “Ye love that shite.”

Simon took another bite of his sandwich.

“Aye.” he answered simply.

No hesitation.

No shame.

Just certainty.

Because you loved pink things. Cute things. Soft things.

And Simon loved you.

Which meant he loved those things too.

୨୧⋅┈∘┈⋅⋅┈∘┈⋅୨୧⋅┈∘┈⋅⋅┈∘┈⋅୨୧ ⋅┈∘┈⋅⋅┈∘┈⋅ ୨୧

A/N: I love a man who isn’t embarrassed by the things you love.

[skyrimhusbandmaterial]

[huh-i-guess]

Mr. Ghostface, I wanna be in the sequel!

(Captain John Price x F!reader x Simon "Ghost" Riley)

Summary: A tipsy Halloween night out with the 141 has you craving your commanding officers, who both happen to be dressed as one of the sexiest slashers.

Warnings: 18+ (MDNI), dub-con bc of Alcohol, dirty filthy nasty dancing, mask kink, size kink, grinding, freaked out thoughts, reader loves pink and is feminine, unedited but also a rewrite

WC: ~ 4.6K

The five of you walked into the dimly lit club and were immediately engulfed with the sounds of an entrancing beat that dictated the flow of the crowd ahead of you. 

You, Soap, and Gaz had done a number of shots before leaving base under the amused gazes of your two commanding officers. Soap and Gaz were tied, each downing 6 shots, while you’d only been able to stomach 4 and kind of a half. You knew that if you’d had anymore in that short span of time, the boys might have to carry you out of the club.

It was Halloween night and the boys had all decided to dress as figures from classic horror films. Soap had decided to emulate Chucky, with a bright striped shirt, a pair of overalls and a cheap red halloween wig. Gaz felt that the Candyman might have been a good fit, so he tugged on a faux fear coat from who knows where, and donned a plastic hook for a hand. Your commanding officers however? The two had decided that Ghostface was the best fitting costume, seeing that there was almost always a duo behind the classic slasher. It was the quickest costume to get into. 

You, on the other hand, were absolutely sick of being in camo, stiff pants, t-shirts, and boots, so you decided to be a fairy. 

A bright pink fairy. 

You ordered the cutest flowy wig you could find, a pink flower crown, a sparkly pink mini skirt, a danceable baby pink pair of heels, a pair of pink wings, and a fluffy pink top that ruffled around your hips like the petals of a flower. You went all out with your makeup; layered on the blush, faux freckles, various shades of pink eyeshadow, lashes, and a soft neutral lip. 

To say you looked gorgeous was an understatement. You felt soft and feminine and surprisingly none of your teammates heckled you for being pretty in pink.

A part of you wondered what the club goers thought as they watched the lot of you walking in. A bright pink fairy with a group of slashers at her side.

Intimidating or ironic?

The cold air from outside barely had an impact on you, Gaz, and Johnny since the 3 of you felt a layer of warmth stemming from the liquor in your system.

 The group found a booth that was tucked into a corner next to the dancefloor with clear visualization of all entry and exit points. You dropped your purse off at the table with the boys and made it your mission to lay eyes on the bar.

Once your eyes landed on the packed counter, you buzzed through the crowd in long confident strides, with a smile plastered on your face, and a bundle of  “excuse me’s” ready on the tip of your tongue. You squeezed your way through the bunch of people crowding the bar and rested an arm on the polished wood, readying yourself to order a round for the table.

You just barely flipped your hair off of one shoulder when your gaze landed on a tall, ever imposing ghostface making his way toward you. The liquor running through your system blurred your ability to make distinctions between who was Price and who was Simon. The black drapes that flowed over the man’s body ruined any chance of you clocking any distinguishing features. You’d hoped that the man would say something, so you could place his identity. 

Your lidded eyes traced their way down his massive body as he stopped and stood behind you, clearly at the ready like a guard dog. He pushed just a bit further forward so that he was right next to you leaning on the wooden counter. 

It wasn’t difficult for the man to take notice of the way your hazy eyes trailed down his body. 

Subtlety and drunkenness never mixed well, so your mind wandered. 

Either man could be perched next to you as your mind ruffled through a list of their shared traits. They were both large and intimidating and their presences had already commanded any room they entered. Being masked and swallowed by a sea of black increased the intimidation factor tenfold. 

Simon being masked was completely normal and had grown on you, but in the beginning it was unnerving and a point of anxiety for you, not being able to distinguish features and all. You'd grown to rely on reading his body language. Simon’s commitment to being masked had grown on you so much that you’d had a number of dreams of him masked, geared up and breathless, pressing into you.

The liquor was starting to warm your body in other ways and standing next to the unidentifiable behemoth of a man fluttered something deep inside of you. 

You hadn’t even realized that you were still staring at the man with lazy, doe-like eyes and your bottom lip tugged between your teeth. Your gaze flicked up toward his eyes and a warmth flushed through your face as you realized you’d been caught. 

You cleared your throat and flipped your hair in his direction with a soft smile and asked, “You playing babysitter tonight?”

His head tilted a bit under your stare and the action had you remembering what your purpose for being at the bar was. Before he could respond you turned and attempted to wave down one of the bartenders that was bouncing back and forth like a pinball in a machine.

“Depends. How much you plan on drinkin’?” He huffed and moved a step closer to you so that the sides of your hips bumped into each other. The closeness allowed him to rest his gloved hand along the small of your back. 

The palm on your back that was almost inappropriately close to your ass, covered a considerable amount of space and was warm as a furnace.

The touch had you wondering what it would feel like if he dipped it just a bit lower and cupped the plush flesh that sat just below. 

You pulled your lip harder between your teeth as your mind painted a picture of the gloved extremity sliding upward and around your neck or dipping even lower underneath your skirt. 

You should have been making an effort to find out who the voice belonged to and not fantasizing about the size of his hands. Your cloudy mind and the music around you made it hard to pinpoint how deep the voice was and whether or not it was a Manchester or London accent. 

He held his other arm out in front of him with his card in hand, name facing away from you and the bartender almost immediately turned his attention to the mountain of a man next to you. Your thighs clenched at how easily his action commanded attention.

“What can I get you, boss?” The bartender's gaze was locked onto your teammate but that black, masked gaze was frozen onto you, chin just barely jutting toward you as he waited for you to respond. 

Your breath caught in your throat at the action before you moved to answer the man.

“3 shots of Tequila and 2 bourbons, please.” The bartender nodded his head, went to work before grabbing the man’s card. 

The hand resting on your back rubbed a small affirming circle, before you felt a soft pat above your bottom and then a complete removal of the paw. You had to fight a whine from leaving your mouth at the loss of touch.

The length of time between your last passionate, touch filed escapade and now had left you absolutely craving any and every form of touch. It didn’t help that Price was always physically affectionate; a pat on the back here, a curt side hug there, a quick grab and shake of your shoulders as he applauded you for a job well done. His touch was always strictly platonic but your desperation had you searching for more. 

Simon on the other hand had to warm up to touching you but once he started he never stopped. You’d noticed he’d always find an excuse to get his hands on you but it was always under the guise of being work related. He’d always been thorough in checking your gear, yanking you in every direction he chose, warm hands checking the harness straps wrapped around your thighs and behind. It had always been done with a dark chuckle as he’d teased you for how flustered the action made you. He’d be quick to steady you on the heli as a soft apology slipped from your lips at the tough take off. He’d only ever reply with a deep hum and a firm squeeze to your shoulders. He’d grab your hips to yank you out of enemy fire instead of opting to use the straps on your gear and maybe even go as far as ruffling your hair when you popped off your helmet in safe zones. The type of touching that was taking place tonight was lingering and maybe even charged, but most definitely not innocent. That’s what your mind has told you at least.

“Good girl then.” The man hummed from next to you, appeased that you’d remembered his drink order. An aching want shot through you at the statement and your body lulled as your mind painted pictures of ways you could earn his praise. 

A quick flash of a hand in your hair, pulling, hard. 

A thought of a low voice groaning in your ear as you straddled and rocked on top of a set of solid hips. 

An image of your back pressed against a thick, solid body that rumbled and huffed with every press of their pelvis to yours. 

A choked gasp from a set of pink lips as you swallowed around a thick, leaking cockhead. No.

 A choked gasp from a set of pink lips tucked behind a thick beard as you swallowed around a thick, leaking cockhead. 

You were ripped from your lust and liquor fueled thoughts as the man bumped his hips into yours to get your attention. He hummed next to you, his hands gripping the tequila shots and with a quick jerk of his head, he motioned for you to grab the bourbons.

 The two of you turned away from the bar as he led the way over to where the rest of the team sat in the booth. They were already joking and laughing in their varying states of inebriation. 

Just as you thought, the crowd parted for the man without any hesitation or effort from him. 

When the two of you reached the table, Soap’s face had a slight flush to it, almost giving him a doll-like appearance that fit well with his costume. A light sheen of sweat began coating Gaz’s skin as it appeared he was fighting a battle between the liquor filled heat and the actual heat from the pelt that covered him. The other Ghostface, Ghostface #2, had his arms folded over his chest as he softly shook his head at a slightly slurred, heavily accented comment that fell from Soap.

Gaz’s attention landed on the pair of you walking over, “Ah yes! That’s what I’m talking about.” he clapped as you and Ghostface #1 placed the drinks down.

“A sight for sore eyes, you two are.” Soap chirped, rubbing his hands together in anticipation. 

You passed one glass of bourbon over to Ghostface #2 with a floaty smile and then tapped your hip against Ghostface #1’s while you moved his drink to his hands. You, Soap, and Gaz all moved to grab your shots with dopey, inebriated smiles on your faces. 

“Here's to those who wish us well, and those who don't can go to hell!”” You said as you raised your glass to the sky, smiling as your team cheered in agreement, clinked their drinks down on the table and threw the shots back with rough jerks of their heads. 

The Ghostfaces just barely tilted their masks up their faces and a small huff fell from your lips as your eyes strained in the dim light as you attemopted to see who was who. The light and the liquor tag teamed your struggle as you failed to see which one of them had a beard. As you lowered the shot glass to the table, shaking your body to fight the burn of liquor going down your throat, the song playing over the speakers shifted to a bouncy, higher tempo with a heavy bassline that had your hips moving with a mind of their own. A cheesy smile spread across your painted lips and a satisfied sigh fell from your lips as you patted Ghostface #1 Ghostface #2 on the shoulder with a nod of your head.

“If you guys need me, I’ll be dancing in there. Somewhere.” You motioned to the dance floor with a thumbs up and turned on your heels while swaying your hips to the beat. 

You swayed and rocked to the beat while you shuffled your way through the crowd until you were almost at the center. Your gaze was just a bit hazy as you took in your surroundings.

The crowd was a mass of shapes and colors. And animals too? It was Halloween so you shouldn’t have been surprised to see an inflatable T-Rex’s head bouncing and shifting through the sea of people. 

You shook your head and chuckled to yourself and you closed your eyes, letting the fuzziness of being tipsy take over you as you started to feel the bass that was flooding through the speakers. Your body had already started moving as you bopped to the rhythm. 

The center of the crowd was hot and packed but the people around you gave you enough space to dance alone without smacking someone with your wings. The music had you entranced on the floor. Hair was swishing, wings bouncing, and your shirt flowed with your movement as you swayed. 

You felt like you had not one care in the world. With the nature of your job, being in a crowd like this would have normally made you uncomfortable. You’d become used to being hypervigilant, overcritical, and overthinking, but something tonight told you to let yourself unwind. With some liquid courage, you let yourself kick back, hoping to enjoy yourself. Very rarely do you let yourself get this drunk, but it’s one of your favorite holidays and you’ve been working so hard these past few months.

Price smokes his cigars and sips his bourbon every chance he gets, Johnny and Gaz get blackout in the rec room watching rom-coms biweekly, and Simon… already has way too many unhealthy coping mechanisms to count so you are more than welcome to get drunk and dance around every once in a while. Plus if shit hit the fan, the guys would get you out of there in no time. You were more than capable of taking care of yourself, but you told them that tonight you were turning your mind off, and they listened.

You swayed and rocked to the beat, feeling light as a feather in the center of the crowd, like you were locked in your own little world before you felt a solid, warm presence at your back.

The liquor was already taking control so instead of looking behind you to see who had pushed themselves onto you, you leaned into the warmth. You’d missed the feel of a warm body behind you, so you rocked your hips to the rhythm. 

Hopefully the man wasn’t planning on just standing behind you, stiff as a board. You reached behind you and placed your hands on his hips, hoping to get him to move in time with you and the beat. The figure behind you slowly began to rock to the beat of the music, tensely, like he hadn’t danced in a while, but on beat enough for you to rock with him. 

A gloved pair of hands found their way onto your sides and you hummed at the touch. They slowly slid up and down your flanks until they finally parked themselves on your hips, giving the meat that rested there the slightest squeeze. The action pushed a soft sigh from your lips even though you should have been disgusted by the gall of the stranger. 

The man’s massive hands occupied so much space on your hips that you couldn’t help but to imagine what they would feel like as they pressed you face down, into a warm, plush bed.

The drunk part of you said that you were beyond touch starved and that you needed this. So you leaned into the touch. You pressed your body flush against his and felt just how large he was, not only tall but also wide and firm, an absolute unit. 

You loved it, mind already filled with all of the possibilities. Being tossed around like a rag doll, being picked up and used like a toy, being held down by his tree trunk of an arm and a tongue flitting through your folds. Your mind went haywire as you ground your hips against the stranger. Your body flushed with warmth as you felt your core heat up.

You could feel that you were rubbing against something thick. It wasn’t hard but it was definitely solid and surly heavy. Your ass was pressed against the man’s pelvis so there was no doubting what was pressing against you.

A soft moan slipped from your lips at the feel of him behind you. Just the feeling of the bulge that sat between his legs, had your mouth watering, suddenly feeling very empty. 

The music’s tempo had lowered to a much more intimate almost sensual pace. The two of you swayed in time with the rhythm and you felt his member twitch against you. The confirmation that you weren’t the only one being impacted by the heavy petting left you feeling devious. 

You bit your lip and pressed your hips further back into his so you could feel just how much of an effect you were having on him. You just barely heard a muffled groan as he tightened his grip on your hips and lightly rolled his own up into your plush ass. A pleased hum fell from your lips as you slowly wrapped your fingers in his gloved ones for support. You couldn’t stop yourself even if you wanted to so you bent forward at the waist. 

“Fuuuuuck.” Muffled and long fell from his lips as he just tilted his head back. You shifted your ass against his bulge and shook your hips so that your ass shook against his front. 

“Bloody hell, love.”

You felt the bulk of your ass moving against his hardening cock and your mind loved that you could feel your impact on him. You could feel his cock twitching and swelling against you and you absolutely loved it. You just barely dropped your hips so that your ass could press up from the bottom of his clothed length before you swiveled them back up so that you were standing up straight again.

 A bratty side of you that had been lulling just beneath the surface was begging to take over. 

You wanted to play with him. 

You had to play with him. 

You know how good you looked bent over and you loved that you were putting on a show for him. You also knew that you wanted to feel just how big he was all over. 

There was some sick part of you that hoped that the man behind you was either one of your commanding officers. 

Price and his thick, solid, almost bear-like body. 

A man like that was built for endurance.

Built to sustain. 

Built to lead, to provide. 

You’d imagined being bent over his desk with the soft but strong press of his stomach against your back as he fucked you into the oak that sat in the center of his office. 

You’d spent nights with your fingers rubbing your clit imagining that it was Price’s tongue slipping through your folds as his beard scratched the delicate skin between your thighs. You'd thought about straddling those thick hips and thighs while taking him deep inside of you as he leaned back and lazily smoked a stubby cigar with a dazed look on his face. 

You'd wondered if he was the kind of man to shotgun the warm smoke from his cigars into your mouth as he planted you firmly onto his cock. 

You’d wonder what his already gruff voice would sound like as he huffed into your ear while his hips pistoned up into you. Would he be stern and mean? Would he tell you how good you were for him? Would he make you beg for it? Would he spit on it if you asked him to? 

The thought of your Captain and all the things you wanted him to do to you had your body rocking back even harder into the stranger as his hand made its way along your front, gently cupping your breast. 

Your breath caught in your throat at the touch. The both of you were being bold tonight and you definitely didn’t have any complaints about it. Your mind was already cloudy with absolutely sinful thoughts and you knew it would never happen so why not indulge some of those feelings? Why not let someone touch you the way you’ve been so desperately craving for months? 

You brought your hand up to meet the strangers and placed yours on top of his. Even with your eyes closed you could feel the absolute mass that this man had to him. You gave his hand a squeeze, leading him to tightly grope your breast through your shirt. 

Your lip pulled itself between your teeth again and a hum slipped from your mouth. He just barely slipped a finger over your covered, peaked nipple and you felt your core flood. 

His other hand made its way up your chest until it rested on your neck. The action had you pressing your hips even further into him, trapping his growing cock between your bodies. 

Would it be bad if you asked him to squeeze? 

You wanted him to make everything even fuzzier. You wouldn’t need another shot if he just squeezed down on your neck. You wanted to beg him to squeeze, so badly. You wanted him to pull you closer and whisper in your ear all the things he wanted to do to you. You could feel how bad he wanted you, it wouldn’t be hard to make something happen. You wanted to hear his breath in your ear as he told you how hard he was gonna fuck you.

He was just so BIG. Absolutely solid and clearly strong. 

Could it be Simon? 

Simon the absolute tank of a man. 

Simon, your big boy with the skull face. 

Your big bad lieutenant. 

Oh you hoped it was him or John, touching you like this. 

Everything about him was large, his hands, his thighs, his waist. Surely his cock was too. It had to be, especially with the way he walked around. That walk could only belong to a man that was absolutely hung. 

 You had dreams about pressing your face into the fat bulge that sat between his thighs.

Hoped that you could get a decent view of it as he readjusted his hips in meetings.

Some part of you almost wanted to beg him to let you kiss it, anywhere, anytime, any place. If he wanted it in a meeting, in front of the whole team you’d do it there and then some.

You’d thought about him holding your head down on his fat cock. Choking and sputtering around his girth. Would he leave you struggling to catch your breath? Would he laugh as you sputtered and struggled around his length? 

You’d thought about what it would be like to sit on his pretty pink lips that he loves to keep covered up. 

You’d even thought about the way that the man would smell as he fucked you. 

Not wanting to ruin the fantasy, you kept your eyes closed, and slowly turned yourself around in the man’s grasp. 

You pressed your front to his, as you slid your arms up to rest behind his neck. His large hands shifted themselves to the plush fat of your ass. You rolled your body into his with the mellow beat that poured from the speakers and felt your breath catch in your throat as his hands gripped the fat of your bottom, and he pulled the two globes up and apart. 

You couldn’t stop the moan that fell from your lips. Feeling electrified by his movements, you pulled a hand from the back of his neck and trailed it down his front. Eyes still closed, breath coming out in shudders, you pushed your hand in between the two of you and rested your palm along the man’s thick, very hard member. 

“Fucken’-” You could hear a strained huff leave his mouth at the contact. Emboldened by the shots you took earlier, you closed your hand around the man’s thick length and gave it a firm squeeze as you let out a soft purr next to his ear. 

“So big.” You hummed next to his ear as you felt his hips pulse into your grip. You just barely ran the top of your thumb along the man’s covered tip before you felt another presence at your back. 

“Ouuuu handsy as ever, Bonnie.” You whipped your head around and locked eyes with the smirking blue eyed Scotsman, whose face was even redder from the shots and the heat of the club. 

“Johnny. My god.” You sighed and turned your body toward him completely. “You almost scared me half to death.”

“Should be scared of that big beastie you’re about to fuck on the dance floor.” He laughed as he threw his arm around your shoulder. 

You turned your head to glance behind you, hoping to see exactly what the man you were dancing with looked like, but were quickly let down when you were met with a blank space behind you. You were a bit disappointed that you hadn’t actually taken the chance to open your eyes with the mystery man, but part of you loved the thrill of not knowing. 

Gaz popped up next to you without his massive coat on and wrapped his arms around the two of you, most definitely about to start professing his love for the two of you. His weight surprised you and you stumbled in your heels against Johnny. 

“So bloody happy-”, hiccup, “that you guys are my teammates.” Gaz’s head pops up and he points over to the table that you all were at previously, which has an almost clear line of sight to where you were standing in the crowd. He finishes his thought while pointing, “Them big fuckers too”. 

Your vision, cloudy as ever, lands on a pair of Ghostfaces. One leaning back in the booth with his legs spread wide, arm thrown over the back of the cushion, mask fixed on your group, and the other, sitting at the edge of the seat with his arms propped on his knees, hands clasped together and a predatory glare that makes itself known even through the blackened eyes. The sight was probably a bit frightening to the other club goers but in your state, you were moments away from bursting out into a fit of giggles. 

You leaned on Soap and almost burst out laughing at how red he was before you looked back over to the booth. You couldn’t help but to wave at the pair of slashers that occupied the booth. The two of them shared a weighted look, before they slowly rose from the cushions and made their way toward the rest of the team. You knew that their dark eyes were locked onto you. 

“Bonnie, you gonna take ‘em both this time?” 

[kkusuka]

this is in the "141 and john price's wife" universe. still gn pronouns. i also don't think price texts that much- old man syndrome.

the 141 absolutely have a group chat dedicated to pictures and information (porn) about their little wife.

it starts, as many silly things do, with johnny and a picture of you asleep on the couch. cuddled into the armrest covered in the tortilla blanket he'd gotten you as a gag gift, and it was just too good not to share. (although he only sent one of the thirty he actually took, he's gotta keep as much of you to himself as he can.)

then it was kyle with you in the yard, laying in the grass after cutting down branches in the sweltering heat (something john would never let you do if he'd know about it, but he appreciates the flush of your cheeks and the angle of the photo makes it seem as if you were under him doing another strenuous activity.)

and it continues like that for months, cute little pictures of you gardening with price, walking with simon, watching tv between kyle and johnny- just sharing the daily life of their pretty bird.

but the real nature of the group chat doesn’t start until simon sends a picture of you bent over, putting something in the oven, in the tiny, red daisy duke shorts that are only just long enough to be considered inappropriate for the public.

sr: fuckin' lucky that shit only takes 10 minutes to cook or we'd be in the kitchen all day.

soap: fuuuuuuuuckin' hell

kyle: don't rub it in simon, we'll be home in two days

sr: don't worry, i'll warm 'em up for you

price: Behave yourselves.

and it all just unravels from there.

john's the next culprit. he has loads and loads of less than decent pictures of you, perks of being the first husband, but he's not reaching into the stash for this one. he has a point to make: if anyone's getting off to pictures of his wife, he's gonna be the one sending them.

it's barely two hours after the other three left that something is sent into the chat. face down, ass up, cunt dripping with cum as price uses his thumb to keep your pussy open to the camera, the rest of his hand palm down on your ass, the ring on his finger glistening in the flash.

sr: fuckin' filthy captain

soap: BRING ME BACK, PUT ME IN CAPTAIN

kyle: tell 'em i said thank you

it's not surprising that the minute he comes back, johnny's on you. methodically placing the camera, making sure it captures all of you and his face buried between your thighs. it wasn't the first video sent into the chat but it's definitely one of the best ones.

your head thrown back, hands in his hair, gripping what you can so you can grind your pussy on his tongue. his phone is just close enough to hear your small pants and groans as he sucks on your swollen clit.

soap: i could spend the rest of my life right there

sr: you let 'em fuck yer face like that?

soap: lt i'd let 'em gag me

soap: then step on my dick

soap: then leave me on the floor to rot

*kyle, price, and sr disliked three messages*

soap: like you fuckers wouldn't

and kyle is not a man to be left out, but he is also not as keen on sharing his private time with you as johnny is. so there aren't videos coming from him, instead he has 4k close ups of your tits after he spent almost an hour sucking hickeys into every part of your chest he could reach.

and kyle is like an artist, he makes sure your hair is splayed out perfectly, and that you're just fucked out enough to give him a bright smile. he also makes sure that the locket they gave you, the one that's has their names engraved on the inside, sits perfectly above the swell of your boobs. and goddamn is he proud of his pictures. (it's not hard for you to look pretty in pictures because you're already pretty but kyle thinks he's the best at actually capturing it).

soap: another two things i would put my face between until i suffocate

*sr, price, and kyle disliked a message*

soap: go fuck urselves

and simon is just mean, fingers peaking under your panties, finding your clit just to sit there, finger pressed on your bud, only moving for a few seconds before falling still again; his other hand hold your hips down so you can't do anything but wait for him to move again. and he does it the entire length of the manchester game until your panties are completely soaked through.

soap: stone cold, lt. stone cold.

but before he can do anything, he has to take his picture so the other fools can remember what a whore you are for him. and because it's between games he'll let you sit on his dick and grind into him during commercial breaks. maybe he'll even film in and send it to the guys, let them see you drip all over his lap whole stretching to fit him in your cunt.

but whether his team loses or wins, he'll flip you over and fuck you into the couch cushions, so at least you get that!

then they're all away on a mission, and you know about their little chat (it's hard not to when suddenly they have a camera out every time you're in their vicinity.) so you take it upon yourself to give them their fix. and why not play around with them well you're ar it?

it starts when you go shopping merely three days after they left. they tear up your bras and underwear so obviously you would need to buy more eventually. but usually when you go shopping one of them is with you to share their opinions, but since they're away, you just have to send pictures instead!

a whole catalog, in facts. you've got angles, dressing room lighting, and a whole lot of time on your hands.

*you sent 22 photos to 'the bird house'*

you: i can't choose :(((

you: help me out?

kyle: give me 6 hours to fly home and i'll help you with anything

price: Looks great. But I can't tell from the pictures, you'll have to try them all on again when I get home.

soap: licking the screen isn't working, captain i think i need to go home.

*sr saved 22 photos to Camera Roll*

kyle: smooth riley, real smooth.

and of course it doesn't end there. you have a chance to torture them a little bit with zero consequences and you're going to take it.

but it takes a while for you to send videos, usually you send  your outfits, or the tiny bathing suit top you wear while tanning, even one of you in the kitchen in nothing but your tiny apron. (it's the only one that john does not appreciate, popping a boner between briefings as a captain is not hie proudest moment.)

but as the months go longer and longer, you get more and more desperate. your toys are reserved for times like this, a small bullet vibrator and a thick 8-inch dildo. it's nowhere near as nice as fucking your men but it'll have to do for the time being.

and you know them being away is not their fault and they'd be home in an instant if they could choose to be; but if you have to deal with your pent-upness, so do they.

so you set up your phone, leaning it on the lamp that sits on your bedside table, so it captures your entire body, covered only by sheer light-blue lingerie and your locket, as you sink down the length of your dildo, vibrator pressed to your clit. you send four different videos, one for each of them, in the order they came into your life (you think it's cute, they're one picture away from firebombing the whole country they're in and flying home).

you: just something to hold you over until you get back!

kyle: so good for us babe.

soap: yer evil bonnie.

soap: my arm can't keep up with this

sr: birdie thinks it's real funny now

you: i do

sr: not gonna be so funny when we get home, yeah? might have to give you a refresher about what happens teasing birds.

price: 6:30am tomorrow, get everything you need in order because you aren't moving for the foreseeable future.

*you loved a message*

[bnanamlkluvr]

GOD IM FUCKING FERAL

[drmonstersdungeon]

Kyle is pretty sure he's going to blow his load just from this. His cock twitches against his lower belly as he buries his tongue deeper between her honeyed folds. Alternating between little kitten licks at her throbbing clit and sliding his tongue down to where she's dripping and fluttering around nothing.

"Please," she whines bucking against his face as he latches his lips around her clit and sucks so hard her back bows off the bed.

She's been begging for him to sink his cock into her for the last hour it feels like. But Kyle wants to stay here, his fingers dug deep into her plush thighs, tongue pressed into her pretty pussy.

He had warned her.

"Be still, pussy's so sweet, baby. " He slurs against her as he spreads her wider and licking down to her puckered hole for a taste as he finally slips a thick finger into her sopping cunt. He's never heard a more pretty sound as the near broken sob of relief from her lips. And then a second one as he slurps greedily at her clit, curling his fingers to hit every nook and cranny feeling her squeeze, clench and attempt to swallow his lithe fingers.

"Please Kyle, Kyle Im gonna-" the rest is cut off as his head is squeezed between her doughy thighs as she squirts all over his chin and fingers.

He should stop, his dick is aching, leaking onto the sheets. Practically begging to be sucked into those velvety walls.

But Kyle was anything but a quitter. A munch maybe, but not a quitter.

AN- I need to quit clenching my teeth while writing.

[pluiexx]

`✦ ˑ ִֶ TOO BUSY FOR LOVE ⊹

CoD men when you're too busy to give them attention pt.2 .ᐟ

KYLE GARRICK . ۫ ꣑ৎ

You were in your element—laptop open, headphones on, bouncing between spreadsheets and meetings like a machine. You didn’t even hear him come in.

Gaz stood in the doorway for a minute, just watching you. You looked so damn serious, lower lip tucked between your teeth, fingers dancing across the keys.

He loved seeing you focused. But he also missed you.

So he waited.

And waited.

Then, quietly, he placed your favorite snack and a bottle of water on your desk.

Still nothing.

Finally, he leaned down and murmured against your ear, “D’you remember you’ve got a boyfriend, or should I send you a calendar invite?”

You jumped. Yanked your headset off. “Kyle—!”

He grinned, tugging you gently by the wrist out of your chair and into his arms. “I’ll give you ten more minutes. After that, I’m takin’ you hostage.”

You laughed against his chest.

God, you missed him too.

KEEGAN P. RUSS . ۫ ꣑ৎ

You’d been locked in your room for hours—typing, pacing, scribbling, repeating.

Keegan didn’t say much when he came in. He never did. But he lingered longer than usual. Watched you. Waited.

After thirty minutes, he came up behind you and placed his chin on your shoulder.

Still, you barely reacted.

“You gonna keep pretending I don’t exist?” he muttered.

You sighed. “Keegan, I’m on a deadline—”

“And I’ve been gone for three weeks.” His voice was quiet. Flat. “Didn’t even get a kiss.”

You finally turned to look at him.

He wasn’t mad. Just… blank. Distant.

That was worse.

You wrapped your arms around him, burying your face in his chest. “I’m sorry.”

He said nothing.

But he hugged you back—and didn’t let go for a long time.

SEBASTIAN KRUEGER . ۫ ꣑ৎ

You were hunched over your computer, absolutely obliterating your to-do list.

Krueger leaned against the wall, watching you. His arms crossed, one eyebrow slightly raised. He didn’t say a word.

But he judged.

Hard.

You were too deep in the zone to even notice.

Until suddenly your chair was spun around and your legs were lifted—you were being carried. Bridal style. With zero warning.

“Sebastian—!” you yelped.

“You’ll die like that,” he said flatly, heading toward the couch. “No food. No breaks. No affection.”

“I have work!”

“You have me,” he corrected, plopping you down on the cushions like a ragdoll and climbing on top of you like a cat. “You’ll survive ten minutes of me.”

“…You’re insane.”

He smirked, sliding his hands up your sides. “And?”

NIKTO . ۫ ꣑ৎ

You knew he was there. You felt the room shift the moment he walked in. But you didn’t turn.

You were busy.

Nikto didn’t talk. He didn’t ask. He just watched. From the shadows. From the corner of the room. Silent, unreadable.

Then the lights dimmed.

Your Wi-Fi cut out.

You froze.

“…What the hell?”

He finally spoke, voice dark and amused: “Now you have time.”

You turned slowly, eyes meeting his mask.

“Nikto. Did you—did you just kill the fucking internet?”

“I freed you,” he said, stepping closer. “You waste too much time serving strangers. I want what’s mine.”

You swallowed hard. “...That’s kidnapping.”

He smirked. “That’s love.”

All Rights Reserved © works are exclusive to this tumblr.

[bnanamlkluvr]

cmere gaz my love we’re gonna stay in bed ALLLLLL. NIGHT

[wonwhilebeingyoung]

the streets are sayin the netflix fans thinks dante in the games is ugly… I BEG YOUR FINEST PARDON?!

[sunday-bug]

[metallictastinglifesupportliquid]

Y/N: Fuck me if I'm wrong but- Ghost: Wrong. You are wrong Y/N: I haven't even said- Ghost, taking his shirt off: You are WRONG

[gloomwitchwrites]

Per a suggestion from an Ao3 user:

A/N: I had a lot of fun with this one. It's silly. It's a little mean, but really all in good fun. I did try to keep on theme with the requester's suggestions about the guys. Anyways, enjoy!!

For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE

Task Force 141 x Reader (can be read as gn!reader)

Content & Warnings (MDNI): brief swearing, domestic fluff, established relationship, brief suggestive themes

Word Count: 800

ao3 // main masterlist // imagines & what if masterlist

John Price

“Sorry, love. But I need you to repeat that.”

You clear your throat, putting more strength behind your voice. “I would like you to step out of the bedroom.”

John crosses his arms over his chest. He leans forward a bit, amused. “And why is that?”

“I’m changing.”

“I don’t believe it,” he mutters, more to himself than to you.

“I want privacy. And I would like it if you stepped out.”

“Did I do something wrong?”

“No,” you shrug.

John’s mouth opens slightly like he’s about to say something—but promptly shuts it, exhaling loudly. “Okay. I’ll go.” He starts to walk away but then turns around. “I’ll be right outside.”

“Thank you, John.”

He shakes his head as he exits. You wait a few seconds, before testing what he said.

“John?”

He promptly returns, standing inside the door. “Yes?”

“Just making sure.”

“Fucking hell,” he mutters just loud enough for you to hear.

Once you’re dressed, you go out into the hall, and find him leaning against the wall. His neck twists slowly, his gaze pivoting to you. There is a bland, mostly unamused expression on John’s face.

“What?” you ask, all innocence.

“Never ask me that again.”

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

“Kyle?”

“Yeah, love?”

“Could you step out?”

Kyle turns. “Step out? Step out where? To the store?”

“No,” you laugh. “The bedroom.”

“Why?”

“I’m changing.”

Kyle blinks. “For what reason?”

“I’m changing.”

He shrugs. “You change in front of me all the time.”

“Yes. But right now, I want to be alone.”

Kyle completely turns in your direction, arms crossed over his chest, concern creasing his brow. “Is that what you want, love?”

“Yes.”

He doesn’t look happy, but he starts to make an exit.

“Are you okay?” he asks suddenly, turning on his heel.

“I’m fine,” you tell him.

Kyle starts to pivot back to the bedroom door but stops. “Did I do something wrong?”

“No.”

Kyle’s gaze narrows. “Are you hurt?” he asks, tone soft. And then, with a little growl in it, “Did someone hurt you?”

“No, Kyle. I’m fine. Really. I just want privacy.”

Frowning, he takes one step backward. “Everything is fine?”

“Everything is fine,” you confirm.

With another nod, Kyle leaves the room.

You think you’re alone, but then you hear his voice from out in the hallway.

“Is it a new outfit?”

“No.”

Silence. Then, “It’s not my birthday.”

“No, Kyle. It’s not.”

John "Soap" MacTavish

“Can you leave the room?”

Johnny turns, his toothbrush sticking out of his mouth. “What?”

“I need to change,” you reply. “Could you leave?”

The middle of his brow furrows. He pops the toothbrush out of his mouth. “Serious?”

“Yes,” you affirm.

“Why?” he asks.

“I need to change, Johnny!”

“So?” he counters, and then, with a sultry voice, “I’ve seen you naked.”

“I want privacy.”

He laughs softly, and promptly plops himself onto the edge of the bed. “No. Staying right here.”

“Johnny.”

“I’ll close my eyes.” He returns the toothbrush to his mouth, crossing his arms over his chest. “See? Not looking.”

He does close his eyes.

“Promise?”

“Promise,” he says.

As you remove your robe and begin to reach for the first article of clothing, you glance over at Johnny. One of his eyelids is open. He’s sneaking a peek.

“Johnny,” you scold, smacking his arm.

He smirks, returning to his original state.

You put on the next piece of your outfit. This time, Johnny steals a quick touch.

“Johnny!”

His eyes pop open and then he leans back on the bed, muscles on full display. “Couldn’t help myself,” he replies with a shrug and cheeky grin.

Simon "Ghost" Riley

“Simon?”

“Hm?”

“Could—could you leave for a moment?” You put some nervousness in your voice.

Simon is fresh out of the shower. Water droplets still remain on his skin. A crisp, white towel is wrapped around his hips, but it looks so small on him compared to his large frame.

“Leave?” he asks, turning in your direction.

“Yes. I need to change.”

The corners of his mouth turn downward. “To change?”

“I would like it if you left the room while I dress.”

Simon blinks but his features don’t change. “We just had sex. And you want me to step out of the room?”

“That is what I’m saying,” you affirm with a nod of your head.

He shrugs. “Okay.”

Without hesitating, Simon exits the bedroom. He doesn’t come back in or attempt to steal a glance. You’re completely alone, left to do whatever it is you need to.

Once you’re dressed, you call out to Simon. “I’m done.”

You hear is heavy footfalls, and then he returns. “Good?”

“Yes.”

He nods. “I’d like you to leave now.”

“You—what?”

This time, Simon smirks as he reaches for the towels tied at his hips. “You make me nervous, love.”

[bnanamlkluvr]

GAZ MY LOVE 😭😭😭😭😭😭 CMERE WE’RE GONNA FUCK NOW

[killfarrell]

✮ using ghost/simon as your own portable stand, mirror and chair wherever the two of you go.

it's almost routine now whenever the two of you leave the house, as soon as it hits the one hour mark you're opening your camera app and handing it over to him to hold, eyebrows furrowed in slight concentration as you touch up your lip liner and gloss. or when you turn to him and ask if you should fix your hair or clothing. "jus' a bit, love. you look perfect any'ow."

and if you're feet are feeling sore from walking for too long in your heels, simon's immediately finding a place to sit where he can pull you onto his lap instead of letting you sit directly onto the public space and messing up your pretty clothes with dust.

all the while, his eyes are practically gazing at your beauty in awe, not like some uncontrollably lovesick puppy, but there's a softness that only appears when he's admiring your beauty. so long as you give him that sweet smile of gratitude when you're done, he'll gladly let you have your way with him.

©killfarrell. all rights are reserved to me and plagiarism is prohibited and will be reported. hope you guys liked it!

[bnanamlkluvr]

A MAN >>>>>

[https-lovvers]

simon's little imaginary (?) wifey

t141 are used to simon muttering about his missus. to be honest johnny and kyle thought he was insane, because there is no way in hell lieutenant simon 'ghost' riley has a wife. especially one that he describes to be so soft and sweet.

when they pry and ask about you, he happily tells details, but will never disclose your name or show them a photo. he just has to keep you alllll to himself. naturally kyle and johnny don't believe him.

then simon starts arriving on base with lunches. real good lunches. johnny watches in envy as simon will lift his mask over his mouth and open his little (big) box, juicy steak covered in a real nice sauce.

"y'must be an awful good cook sir" johnny mutters, entranced in the smell of good food.

"told ya my missus makes it for me" simon would grunt. he silently pockets the small notes you would leave him.

i miss u <3

or

im proud of u <3

or

want u to fuck me real good tonight ;)

he would pocket the latter to jerk off to in his office later.

one day simon forgets his lunch. and being the everso caring and worrying wife, you rush down to the base to bring it to him.

when a pretty thing such as yourself arrives on base, the recruits can't keep their eyes off you. especially johnny who approaches awful confident.

"you lost lass?" he can't help his eyes drifting to your pretty tits spilling over your top.

"no" you bat your pretty lashes at him, "my husband left his lunch at home, i thought i could give it to him!"

johnny nearly fell to his knees in agony when you said husband. sighing he said, "aye then, do you know his rank or platoon number?"

you hum trying to recall. "i think task 141, his name is simon riley." you quickly reconfirm, "oh wait everyone here calls him ghost"

johnny stops dead in his tracks.

"you're LT's wife?"

you look up at him with a pretty smile and nod proudly. johnny had to hold back a groan, god you were beautiful.

and you were real.

you follow behind johnny while he leads you to simon and when you reach his office, johnny knocks once.

"come in" is grunted out slightly harshly

any hostility is quickly wiped off simon's face when he sees his pretty little wife standing next to his sergeant.

"hi si! you forgot your lunch" and you almost gallop over to simon in excitement holding out his lunchbox for him.

fuck. when is it johnny's turn :(

"you're excused soap" simon grunts, "although i'll get you to escort her back off base so stick around."

thats how johnny ends up sitting outside simon's office getting having to listen to the clattering of items on simon's desk as well as your sweet moans and whimpers while simon thanks you for making his lunch.

he can't stop staring at you when you stumble out on shaking legs with messed up hair and smudged lipgloss.

he has got to tell kyle that not only are you real, but you're fucking ethereal.

[valyrra]

Some more screenies from DMC HD Collection. idk if I'm such a pro gamer that the game is hella hard for me at times, but like man. I enjoy it. CREATIVITY this game has to offer for you to witness is incredible, I love it. Gothic aesthetic, gameplay, weird as fuck enemies... The only thing I'm complaining non stop is camera angles... But this was normal for that time of game development.

[celinelikecelinedior]

kyle “gaz” garrick who loves when you ride him after coming home from deployment.

-

kyle doesn’t hide his feelings when you take over. riding him. using him as much as you like. he gets hard just thinking about it days before he’s sent on leave.

you start teasingly slow. rolling your hips and grinding your clit against his pelvic region. your two hands planted on his chest, occasionally traveling down to his abs, digging your nails into your skin.

kyle looks mesmerising. he looks blissful beneath you like he needed it and he did after two months away from home. his brows furrowed, he’s losing his mind because of how tight, wet and warm your pussy is. his mouth slightly opened from how good everything feels, your cunt wrapping him and how angelic you look above him. he often bites his lower lip when your squeeze, knocking the breath out of him “fuck... yes baby”, he groans. his hands tracing all over your body. caressing the underside of your breasts then your waist, giving it a small squeeze then a firm grip on your hips. as if reassuring himself that you’re real. realer than all his assignments.

his hands go back to your breasts: rising and falling as you breath. first covering them with his hands then groping them— kneading them. his thumbs teases your tits, rolling them around, they harden under his touch. “ah… kyle”, you moan. he pinches them with his index finger and thumb. twisting and taunting them. kyle has a thing for making your nipples well swollen and sore.

“closer, love” he gently guides you closer to him so your breasts are right above his face. taking in one nipple in his warm mouth, slightly shuddering and moaning at the first contact. sucking them like their his pacifiers. while your nipples in his mouth he likes to roll them with his tongue then releasing with a wet pop and finally flicking them with his tongue or sometimes sucking the flesh around your nipples . “fuck— ky-ky” you can’t help but move your hips a bit faster thanks to his assault on your tits. your slick pussy dripping down his throbbing and ever oozing pre-cum shaft and his balls, leaving a trail down his thighs to the sheets. the wetness of both of your fluids make his dick creamy. “mmh” kyle hums around your nipple. one hand kneading your unattended breast, the other firm on your hips, not controlling but feeling. “move as much as you want, love” he mutters under your glistening tits. “take what you want. it’s all yours, i’m all yours” his voice is rough almost drunkenly so.

you didn’t meant to squeeze at his words but his voice just does that to you. of course the sergeant noticed. “you like that?” he moves to the next breasts. “uh-huh!” you moan as a response, increasing your pace. you hips moving faster, the sound of wet skin on skin slapping against each other filling the room. each rise and fall on his dick makes your eyes roll back. the stretch has moans spilling from your lips uncontrollably. “you like when i tell you th-this cocks yours?” he teases making you squeeze again, he hisses to your gummy walls wanting to milk him dry.

“harder baby. use me. i know you can do it” he encourages, raising a hand to spank your ass and give it a good squeeze. the spank makes you whimper and give his thick cock a good squeeze. acting on his commands, your hips move quicker. adjusting to squatting on his dick, you can slam your cunt down on him properly with no restrictions. “yes ma’am— just like that” he moans.

the change in position makes kyle leave your swollen and sore breasts. now he can watch them sway as you use him for all his worth. “uh-! ah-! ky-! so-so good!” you’re heads thrown back in the euphoric feeling of his cock hitting the right spots deep in you. your pussy lips stretching each time his cock kisses your cervix when you slam down.

“fuck baby, fuck baby” he groans, his eyes darting to how you swallow him, watching his cock disappear and reappear in you. the squelches and creaminess of the both you has his cock twitching in you, “you’re doing so good for us baby. uh- fuck, taking this dick so well”. ky loves to praise at any given moment.

“love it! love you! love this cock. want you to cum in me ky-. ah- want it so bad! please ky-!” your voice high pitched and your moans spill unapologetically loud. leaning forward into his skin, a need to fuse with him, your face rest at the crook of his neck, biting, kissing and sucking. sure to leave marks.

“i love you more. you deserve it and more, love. cum on this cock before i fill you yeah?” he grunts, his grip on your hips tighten. helping your slam down harder, rougher. the mix of fluids splattering all over.

feeling that familiar knot in your stomach, your release is mind altering. squirting a little on his dick before your thighs lock up and cum on him. “kyle—! ky- ky-!” you scream, gripping his shoulders. “that’s it baby.” he is sure to hold you tight while your body violently shakes above him. he groans feeling your gummy walls squeeze him too much, kyle swears to himself that he is seeing white. “gonna fill you baby” he grunts, bitting your shoulder that has little precipitation on them.

he holds your hips, enough to bruise, as he fucks up into you hard. the overstimulation causes your legs to shake. the next moment is kyle slamming you down in tandem with his hip thursts one last time before he releases thick spurts of warm cum into your greedy pussy. a guttural moan escaping him, spanking your ass harshly as his climax hits him harder than expected. he cums so much that it spills out of your plugged cunt. too much for you to hold, it’s toe curling.

the both you are sweaty and well spent. limbs tired and gel-like — well only for you. the sergeant before you still has stamina waiting to be spent. kyle caresses your back, his hands all over you, grounding you, trying to soothe your heavy breathing. kissing your shoulder and temple. “you did so good sweetie, my sweet girl” that british voice you love so much whispers more praises into your skin.

“gonna clean you up with my mouth yeah?” his voice soft. he guides your face to face his so he can kiss you sloppily.

-

stop i’m obsessed with him.

i don’t see many smut about him so i’ve taken it upon myself to be the one to do it.

guys he’s like so pretty wth. even the more reason to sit on it. ah-!

rewatching the mw reboot was the best thing i’ve done this year. it’s 2am rn.

brrrohkaybye!

[twolegsandbleeds]

simon ‘ghost’ riley who never bothered learning how to flirt properly so is just horribly blunt with you all the time.

“tits look good in yer top love.” uttered with a straight face over his coffee mug in the morning. “makes me want to fuck ‘em.”

bend over in front of him to pick something up? he's groaning and tipping his head back, palming himself through his jeans with a, “fuckin’ christ love, look at you. perfect fuckin’ arse. c'mere, don't walk away when I'm picturin’ you face first on the carpet.”

it's worse if he's had a few drinks. he can't help but tell the lads how his “missus ‘as the prettiest cunt I've ever fuckin’ seen.” before abruptly leaving so he can go home and see it for himself.

and when he does get home with whiskey on his breath and smoke laced through his clothes? he just pulls you to the edge of the sofa; your pajama bottoms and underwear gone before you can blink. “there she is.” he mutters, spreading you open with two fingers and dropping a kiss on your clit. “there's my pretty little thing.”

[bnanamlkluvr]

he’s so fucking hot i hate british people

[reideneris]

i might get alot of flames for this but,

the x reader "consumers" on tumblr lowk are so entitled, i said consumer bcs these people do nothing to support the writers but complain about FREE fanfics that other people write for FUN and for the LOVE of the game. THEY DON'T OWE YOU ANYTHING.

i'm so tired of you people who can only pressure these writers, make memes, and ridicule them for writing something that was not fit to your standards or liking.

you don't even write or contribute anything to the community, don't even support or atleast reblogs to the writers you actually like.

stop filling the tags with your consistent complaints about the fanfics that obviously wasn't meant for you (not to your liking) and start learn how to write.

[bnanamlkluvr]

SPEEEEAAAAAAAK LOUDER OML