behind closed doors || Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem!Reader (smut!)
insomnia blurb || Simon "Ghost" Riley x GN!Reader (sfw)
EventSecurity!Ghost || Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem!Reader (smut!)
könig headcanons || König x GN!Reader (sfw & nsfw!)
hey, y'all!
i'm tate, welcome to my blog :) this is a multi-fandom blog, and i've got a lot of posts on here, so refer to the masterlists if you're looking for something specific <3
right now i’m mostly writing for call of duty men (ghost & könig, mainly, but i have plans to write for others as well)
also please be sure to check the dni/byf post as well. please note, this is an 18+ blog that posts and interacts with nsfw content regularly.
feel free to send me a message! i am not currently taking requests, but if you wish to send me thoughts or comments about my works or anything, please do
spreading more Switch!Simon “Ghost” Riley propaganda mhm mhm
Switch!Ghost x Fem!Reader thoughts. (NSFW)
Simon “Ghost” Riley who loves pinning you against the mattress. One hand holding you down by the back of your neck as he plows into you from behind, his other gripping at your ass and spreading your cheeks so he can watch his dick slide in and out of your dripping cunt.
“That’s it,” he groans. “Takin’ it like a good girl, yeah?”
You’re just drooling into his pillow, whining each time the tip of his cock kisses your cervix.
AND
Simon “Ghost” Riley who lets you use him however you want. You’re sitting on his face, barely holding yourself up as he laps against your pussy. Your face is inches away from his achy leaking cock that you’ve been lazily stroking for the past ten minutes. Each time you pant out and your hot breath fans across the flushed tip, it jumps just a little and a helpless whine catches in his throat.
“Please,” he mumbles against your swollen clit. “Please put it in your mouth, baby.”
You just laugh a little, gently licking at the bead of pre-cum that threatens to drip down.
“Hmmm,” you hum, slowly grinding your hips against his face. “I guess you’ve earned it.”
AND
Simon “Ghost” Riley who edges you for twenty minutes straight after you decided to make a snarky comment to him. Using his fingers and tongue to get you just to the breaking point before pulling away and clicking his tongue at your whines and breathy pleads.
“Beggin' won’t help now, baby,” he taunts, wiping his slicked mouth with the back of his hands.
AND
Simon “Ghost” Riley who shakes and shivers as you pull another orgasm out of him. He’s shooting blanks at this point.
“No more, no more,” he whines as you lap at his cock, his wrists twisting in the ropes securing his arms to the headboard.
“Oh, you poor, sweet thing,” you hum. “Thought you wanted to come? You were begging for it earlier, remember?”
Simon’s eyes roll to the back of his head as you drag a thumb over his tip.
“Yes, yes, but-”
“I think you have one more in you, right, Si?”
His hips thrust slowly into your cum slicked hand. Even at his most overstimulated, he can’t deny it feels so fucking good. He whimpers as you guide his half-hard cock into your pussy.
“Yes, ma’am. Please make me come again. Please. Feels s'good– you feel s'good.”
grrrr! bark! bark! - me when i see my big boy könig
könig x gn!reader (i wrote the nsfw ones with fem!reader/a person with a uterus in mind, but they ended up still being gender neutral)
cw: sfw & nsfw!! (nsfw under the break), mentions of sex/sexual acts, most of these are relationship headcanons, some are just stand alone/könig specific... the nsfw stuff is explicit/detailed (i got carried away, of course), no description for 'reader'
i just brain dumped into a google doc incoherently for nearly an hour about these... so here's a few of them... also, i read through these but there might be typos... i can't be bothered to check again, so i'll do that later lol
sfw:
König can cook pretty well. He grew up with a strong woman figure (mother, or grandmother) that taught him.
Can bake too, but does not enjoy it.
Very tidy. Got that trait from the military.
Doesn't have a lot of decor up in his home (especially before you move in with him), but has a few paintings, large prints, or posters hung up in each room.
Prefers minimalistic decorations. Anything too crazy makes the space feel cluttered/messy.
Keeps his head buzzed since it's more comfortable under his gear.
He grew it out once in between missions, but it basically grew straight out from his head and stuck up in weird, unmanageable, ways.
Contrary to popular belief, I think he is very socially adept. Or, can at least fake it well enough.
He is a high ranking officer in the military... he simply cannot be soft, or shy, or nervous. He would not have made it.
He did have social anxiety growing up (canon), but once he entered the military, he quickly got over it.
He won't go out of his way to start up a conversation with a stranger, and typically keeps his response short if he is looped into one, but he can hold a polite conversation.
Dry/sarcastic humor ("heh... and they said i couldn't be a sniper.")
So incredibly bad at responding to texts that aren't urgent/work related.
He definitely has a separate personal and work phone. He forgets to check his personal phone a lot. Don't take it to heart though, he's a busy man.
He prefers/needs a partner that understands this as well, and won't get upset if he forgets to respond.
He also prefers a partner who can reciprocate his sarcasm, and not get super offended. He would never out right say anything that is offensive, or mean, but he can be quite blunt and monotoned, so his partner needs to understand that. Plus, he finds it endearing if you're able to banter with him.
I definitely feel like he prefers a partner with some sort of ambition. And especially wants someone who has a job.
Since he works a lot, and is gone on missions for weeks to months at a time, he can't be worried that his partner isn't thriving/is just staying at home all day, waiting for him to return.
An at home job is fine. He just wants his partner to be self-sufficient, so they don't need to worry about him, and he doesn't need to worry about them (let's be honest... he doesn't have time to worry).
Knows his big, and is proud of it.
In school, he might have slouched to make himself feel/look smaller, but now he holds himself straight and takes up space (also got that from military training).
Loves to touch and hold you.
He'll pull you into his lap by your hips as you walk by him sitting on the couch, then wrap his arms around you so you can't get back up.
He'll give you a kiss on the head, or cheek, as you're cooking dinner, and stand/sit near by to watch (and critique... lovingly, of course).
But he is not big into PDA. Holding hands is okay. Sitting close on public transportation is okay. But excessive kissing, cuddling, or groping is reserved for private.
Loves parallel play. Will pull up another chair next to his as he plays video games so you can read/do whatever it is that you want close to him.
He'll also just sit quietly and watch you as you do some sort of craft.
Honestly, he just loves being in your presence.
Sometimes he needs his space, closed off in his home office, especially after a long or hard day at work. But, he knows you understand and will respect it. And he will do the same for you.
nsfw:
Will absolutely smack your ass as he watches you cook. Not hard, but enough to make it jiggle just a little bit.
Sometimes, he'll search you out in your shared home just knead at your ass for a few moments, before wandering off to continue whatever we was doing.
Back to knowing he's big and proud of it....
Will absolutely manhandle you in bed.
He wants you on all fours? Boom. You're ass up before you can even think about moving.
Wants to hold you in his arms, spreading your legs as he stands and fuck you mid air? Easy.
In fact, that's one of his favorite positions. It's just so easy for him. Plus, you can't squirm away when you start getting overstimulated on his long, thick cock.
He does not want to hurt you. Ever. Even if you ask, he will not spank or choke you.
Hickeys are off the table too. He doesn't like giving them. Nor does he like receiving them. Thinks they're a little childish, which he does tell you.
He has no problem edging you though. Loves it, too.
He'll have you sit on his face until your legs are literally shaking and you're a whiny, blabbering mess begging for him to lick you, suck you, finger you, fuck you-- whatever he wants just so you can come.
Really likes watching you come undone. Yeah, that little attitude you had earlier? The sarcasm in your tone? Just melts away and you turn into putty under his touch.
His sex drive is pretty unpredictable.
Sometimes, he's exhausted and sore from training. Other times, he's about ready to pounce on you the second he comes home.
Prefers being in control. Once in a blue moon, he'll give it up. Just a little. He's still in control, but he likes it when you think you are. So, he lets it happen.
Not very vocal in bed.
He will praise you, though. Just because he likes how it feels when you squeeze around him as he does.
Swears too. A "fuck" as your sucking him off so messily there's drool dripping down his balls. A "so fucking tight" as you arch your back and bounce your ass back in times with his thrusts.
He'll grunt most of the time. Until he's about to come. Then his moans start to ring out. Like music to your ears. They pitch up as he spills over the edge.
If he's fucking you in missionary, he'll lean down and press his face into your neck. That's when you can really hear him.
Pants. Moans. A shaky breath as you scratch along his shoulders or biceps...
He may not like visible marks, but he can't hold back a shiver as you dig your nails in just slightly as you come around his cock.
As for aftercare... he'll hold you against his chest as you both come down from your highs.
He'll let you clean yourself up, use the bathroom, whatever, then it's back to cuddling and sweet little kisses on the top of your head as you start to doze off.
hope y'all enjoyed ;) likes, reblogs, comments, etc. are always appreciated <3 - tate
cw: sfw, unrealistic military standards and behavior, suspend your disbelief, silly fun, G/N reader, reader's friend is called a young lady once, reader is implied to be an adult entertainer but not really, just laugh its silly
also MDNI please 🔞
None of them were particularly jazzed about this arrangement.. you nor your friend were either. the music had long been turned off, the curtains opening to the dense forest behind the secluded cabin closed not 10 minutes after your new guests arrived.
could you call them guests?
4 foreign men head to toe in military gear, one of which completely masked.. these were NOT guests in your book, but your friend insisted in playing along if only to stay out of immediate danger.. you'd argue 4 british men with guns are immediate danger but according to them there was someone worse following behind.
there was very little introduction past names and even those werent what you were expecting. 'Soap? Ghost?' not exactly names you felt confident in.
"what do you 2 do for work?" the man with the mohawk was trying to be casual as he swept through your living room and kitchen, gun lowered but not cast aside by any means.
"content creators.." "actors." you spoke in unison with your friend
after clearing the house 'Soap' was comfortable enough to imply they had lost them in the forest, but the one with the beard 'Captain' was adamant about keeping a close ear out for anything outside.. hence your music being turned off.
"im really not interested in having my vacation interrupted by a federal crime," you mumbled to your friend who had joined you on the sofa. the both of you watched as the group of 4 rustled around the cabin, checking deadbolts, mumbling about potential escape routes and the like.
"yeah but im not in the mood to die.. and I think the one with the mask wouldnt have any qualms about doing it.." your friend whispered, but you didnt think it mattered considering 'the one with the mask' was now posted in a dining room chair, deep set eyes locked on the 2 of you.
"checked the whole house, no one else's 'ere. we should be good to wai' for Laswell's word.. Hopefully she can find us." the friendliest of the bunch, Gaz, had checked back in with the man in the mask, Ghost. even as he acknowledged Gaz's word's his eyes didnt peel away from you or your friend.
"I really dont see how this is allowed! I mean dont you need a warrant or something?!" you were trying to give at least Gaz some grace. he seemed the most reasonable when they first snuck in through the cellar door being the first to lower his weapon at the sight of 2 young adults armed with fire pokers and bear spray. however when he assured you they didnt want to do any harm, you weren't necessarily at mercy to do anything but go along with their plan considering the guns!
and the guy in the mask! everyone just seemed to be ok with the guy wearing a hard skull face plate. meanwhile you were left dumbfounded staring into the eyes of a 6'4 grim reaper sitting in a dainty rich people dining room chair. you hated them, but at least you were more secure in their construction with him sitting on them
"I know this is stressful but we'll be out of your hair as soon as possible.." Gaz raised his gloved hands, "you have my- our- word," he gestured to Ghost.
"yeah. our word.." Ghost echoed.
"im having a hard time believin-"
*KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK*
certainly there was not THIS much traffic at night at a remote private cabin.. after the look you shared with your friend the 2 of you shot nervous glances at your "guests."
"are there more of you?" your friend asked directly.
Gaz shook his head, his hands instinctively going back to his gun. Shockingly you found Ghost at your side much quicker than you'd expect someone of his size to move.
*KNOCK KNOCK*
Soap flicked the music back on, lower volume than before and slipped behind the kitchen bar counter gun in hand.
"what the fuck is going on here," you were trying to keep your voice low but it was slowly rising to a panic.
your heart was suddenly in your throat and before you realized it the man they called Captain was leaning down speaking directly to you and your friend.
"need you to cover for us. just tell em.. we aren't h-"
"im NOT doi-"
"if those men out there know we're in here all of us are dead do you understand me?"
"said y'r actors, yeah? put onna show.. like we ain' 'ere," Ghost leaned down gesturing towards the door.
he lead you with his gloved hand by the shoulder, firm and heavy. you werent supposed to be finding reassurance in him but yiu couldn't find it anywhere else. He broke from you to tuck for cover across from his captain. set a few feet back from you and your friend behind the walls of where the foyer opened to the living room, Ghost and the Captain readied their weapons. Soap and Gaz had clear shots to the door from the kitchen and living room respectively, all you could do was pray they didnt get you in the process.
*KNOCK KNOCK KNO-*
"coming! coming sorry!" you pretended to rush to the door with your friend in tow.
the large wooden door popped open to a small group of more men.. in more military gear. head to toe in black, all of them masked except one in the front. you assumed he was the one knocking.. a blonde man with a suspicious smile and a black spade patch.
he stared down at the 2 of you, all of them did.
"uhm.. can we help you?" half of your body was tucked behind the door, your friend poking out fro. behind.
"you 2 haven' seen any.. fugitives around have you? about 4 of em? got guns nd a man with a skull mask. real dangerous." you wondered if he turned up his southern twang to try and disarm you or if that really was how he talked.
you shared a look with your friend before.. a little lightbulb flicked on in your head. a friendly smile stretched across your face and you opened the door a little wider. Ghost and Price glanced at each other and started to ready their guns a little higher before your tone shifted.
"oh! I see! you guys are the actors!" you laughed. keeping your tone teasing and flirty, reached out to touch the blonde man in front of you.
quickly your friend fell in line giggling and snickering as they approached the masked men further behind the man who spoke. "i thought they were supposed to be firefighters!"
almost immediately there was chatter and bickering amongst the men, some of them trying to maintain complete professionalism and a few strays egging on the sudden shift.
the blonde laughed and slipped from your grasp, putting his hands up to imply no touching on the job or at least not in front of his men. he slipped a hand into one of his many pockets and pulled out a sleek card adorned with the same spade as his patch.
"aht aht, your handsome firefighters must be runnin behind schedule, beautiful. if you see the men we're lookin for give me a call. its pertinent.. national security."
"oh that's so scary! are we safe here Misterr..." your friend let their words trail off, implying they were asking for a name.
"Graves. Commander Graves," he shifted his weight, looking behind and passed the 2 of you into the house. seeing no signs of life he returned his eyes back down to the 2 of you. " 'Nd yes young lady you will be just keep your doors n windows locked.."
"thank you so much! and I hope you find them.. Commander," you put a soft flirtatious lift on your voice, looking up at him from the card in your hands.
he nodded to you and then to his men to send them off to their unmarked military vehicles.
"stay safe now."
"you too, thank you!" you and your friend were smiling until you returned inside. trying to stay completely natural until you were out of sight of the windows they could see you through you finally fell into the waiting lap of your sofa.
legs like jello and heart beating throughout your entire body now the adrenaline of what you had done finally making you crash. and your friend wasnt far behind, collapsing on the other sofa with a loud groan.
"grea' work," Ghost looked down at you from behind the sofa, arms crossed axross his wide chest. "maybe we'll get ya into some espionage." you could almost hear his smirk and it pissed you right off.
"NOT FUNNY," you yelled into the cushions.
"fuckin Shadows.. hate the bloody fuckers" Soap peeped through the sliver of open curtain, watching their taillights slowly disappear..
"while we wait for Laswell.." Gaz said a little too casually
"go' any tea..?" Ghost followed up, following behind Gaz to the kitchen.
cw: NSFW!! MDNI!! smut, mentions of drinking, marital affair (reader is married, Ghost is not), Ghost is horny, reader married her husband for a not-so-good reason, semi-public sex in a private dressing room, almost getting caught, "unprotected" p in v, pull out method, some dirty talk, bent over a vanity, mirror sex, spanking (twice), choking, "good girl", "sir" (once), "doll", "needy thing", written from Ghost's POV, no use of y/n
Retired!Ghost who takes up a part-time job as event security for a local venue. He just can’t sit still in his retirement, always needing to do something, and he thought it would be best to not put his certain skills acquired during years of service to waste.
EventSecurity!Ghost who kind of hates attending weddings. He'd much rather pick up a job for a work event. Weddings are just too loud. Too chaotic. Inevitably, someone gets so drunk that he has to carry them out to their ride. But after he received a text from a co-worker about needing to go to the hospital the night of a wedding because his mother had fallen ill, he took his shift for him. He felt bad for the man, kind of. Really, he just was getting bored sitting at home most of the time during the peak of the wedding season.
Ghost stands diligently at one of the entrance doors during the reception. Arms crossed across his chest. Eyes scanning through the crowd of already half drunken people as they dance to some, in his mind, interesting music choices. He notices the bride, you, getting more-and-more fed up with your increasingly drunk newly-wed husband. Sweet, sweet, smile falling from your face as your husband gets up on a table, his shirt half unbuttoned.
You’re beautiful. All wrapped up in a white dress that does nothing to hide your certain physical assets. Hair done perfectly. Make-up just right. He first looked over when you gave a little speech at dinner. Your sweet, soft, voice carried through the speakers as you talked about meeting your husband, and falling in love.
It wrapped around his brain and squeezed all of the blood in it straight to his dick. Immediately, he was entranced.
He wondered how you’d sound that night. Would you moan loudly? Did you whine? He likes to think you get all breathy and whiney just as you're about to come. Could your husband even make you come?
His dick twitches lightly in his pants. God. What he would do to get you bent over, dress half hiked up to expose your ass, and fuck you. Just to find out what pretty noises you make as he buries his thick cock into you. Stretches you out. Ruins you, just a little, before your husband gets a chance to.
Ghost’s crossed arms tense slightly when you catch him staring at you from across the room. You’re swaying slightly to the music, a glass of champagne in your hand. You break the contact first, leaning over to whisper something in the ear of one of your bridesmaids who gets a slightly concerned expression on her face. It quickly dissolves when you smile at her and place a reassuring hand on her shoulder. She returns the smile and nods, taking your glass from you.
Ghost’s eyes follow your frame as you draw nearer to him. Everyone’s attention is on the groom, so they don’t notice as you slip away. Your eyes flicker up to Ghost’s as you pass, hand gently reaching out and skimming along his belt. Perfectly manicured nails sparkling under the dimmed lights of the event hall.
“Going to piss,” he speaks into his small comms device. You’ve dipped around the corner, headed towards the bride’s suite.
“Alright, mate,” his other co-worker replies.
Ghost disconnects the microphone and ear piece from the receiver. He saunters down the hallway, catching a glimpse of you checking over your shoulder as you enter the small room you got ready in. You leave the door open.
“Noticed you staring at me all night, sir,” your voice is hushed as he enters. You’re sitting on the small couch, leaning against the arm rest. Your tits are basically spilling out the top of your dress, enticing him, luring him in. “Like what you see?”
Ghost was right. You do get loud.
His hips slam into yours as you're slightly bent over the vanity, make-up and hair products shoved out of the way. Your mouth hangs open as you pant out lewd, porn-adjacent, moans. Your knuckles are turning white from how hard you’re gripping against the slick top of the vanity.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you whine, squeezing your eyes shut. “Feels t’good. You’re s’big.”
Ghost grunts at your words, his fists tightening into the fabric of your dress as he holds it bunched against your back, just above your ass– just how he imagined it.
“Yeah, doll?” he moans, leaning in closer to your ear. “Open those eyes f’me, look at how much of a mess I’m makin’ ya.”
You do, eyes half-lidded as you look at yourself in the mirror in front of you. Your lipstick is smeared from kissing him and sucking his cock moments earlier. Your mascara threatens to drip down your face as pleasure filled tears pool in your eyes.
Ghost, the filthy man, loves this look on you more than when you looked like a perfect little painting. He reaches one hand around to cup your jaw, tilting your head back and forcing you to arch nearly painfully as he stares into your eyes.
“Good fuckin’ girl, takin’ me so well,” he huffs. “On your wedding night, too.”
You mewl, pressing your ass back in time with his thrusts so well Ghost’s hips stutter for a moment.
“Needy little thing,” he says. “Your husband not treat you this well?”
He’s not surprised at the small smirk that crosses your face as you shake your head no in his grip. He releases your jaw, moving his hand down to around your throat, squeezing at your pulse just lightly. It has your eyes rolling back as you face the mirror again.
“Only married him for his money,” you mumble.
Ghost’s other hand grips into the fat of your ass, spreading your left cheek so he can watch himself go in and out of your dripping, squelching cunt. He slaps the cheek once, testing. When you let out a surprised, yelped, moan, he does it again. Just to hear the noise get a little louder.
His hand around your throat clamps to your mouth as he hears someone approach the door, their heels clicking softly against the floor. But his hips don’t let up their thrusts. You’re basically drooling into his palm as a soft knock echoes in the room, and your name is called. The locked handle jiggles slightly and your head twists towards the door.
Ghost removes his hand. Slows his thrusts, just a bit. Enough so you can let out a half convincing “I’m alright! Just need a moment alone!” through a pant. Enough to feel you squeezing around him, teetering on the edge of an orgasm. The person on the other end says “okay” then walks away.
Ghost picks up his thrusts again after a few seconds, slamming into you harder now, and shaking the vanity. You gasp and arch your back.
“Need you to come, doll,” Ghost says lowly in your ear. “Y’can do that, hm?”
You nod quickly.
“Good girl. Come on my cock so you can get back to your wedding,” Ghost snakes a hand around you, fingers quickly finding your clit and rubbing harsh circles into you.
Your moans get higher in pitch as your hips start stuttering against him. Ghost nearly comes in you as you come undone. Whining, and panting, and twitching so good around his cock that he has to hold himself still inside of you just to stop from spilling over. He’s not entirely a monster. That privilege is reserved for your new husband.
Even though you seem to disagree as you start circling your hips. Ghost lets you, for just a moment. You ride out your orgasm, legs shaking and struggling to keep yourself upright. Then, just as he feels himself on the edge, he pulls out, pumping his cock with his fist as he spurts strings of sticky, white, hot cum onto your ass.
You whine and pout at him through the mirror, your plump bottom lip poking out as you wiggle your hips at him.
Ghost smirks at you, gently pulling up the white thong from where he hastily pulled it halfway down your thighs and smoothing the dress back over you. You sit down at the vanity, moving to fix your smeared make up as he adjusts himself in his pants.
“That was fun,” you muse, patting under your eyes with powder. “We should do it again.”
Ghost doesn’t say anything as you write down your number on a loose napkin with an eyeliner pen. You fold it, and seal it with a kiss, leaving a perfect pink lipstick mark on the paper.
“Maybe,” Ghost hums, taking the napkin from you and shoving it into his back pocket.
You leave first, after pressing another gentle kiss to his lips. Ghost stares in the mirror at himself, hand hovering over his pocket as he contemplates throwing out the number. Instead, he wipes the back of his hand across his lips, then waits a few more moments before returning to the reception– only to catch you kissing your husband like nothing even happened.
Like you don’t have Ghost’s cum drying on your ass under your dress. Like you didn’t admit you only married that man for his money. Like your phone number isn’t sitting in his pocket. Ghost tilts his head slightly as you meet his eyes, his mind already decided on shooting you a text next week.
not trying to be mean or anything but in your insomnia blurb u used the word "contempt" which means like strong dislike or disapproval. i think u meant to use "content" which means pleased or satisfied...at least, that's what makes more sense in that context. just thought i should let you know.
how embarrassing omfg THANK YOU!!! i typed that out in about 10 minutes on my phone and did NOT catch that 😭
my insomnia has been bad lately. enjoy this self indulgent blurb <3
husband!simon “ghost” riley x partner!reader (no gendered terms used, so gender neutral reader)
cw: none. fluffy cuddling <3
you haven’t slept for more than 6 hours total in the past 3 days. not from lack of trying. sleep was just avoiding you, for some unknown reason. you’d lay in bed, staring at the ceiling while simon snored softly next to you.
you are jealous of the man, who seemingly falls asleep about 5 minutes after closing his eyes each night. meanwhile, you’re tossing and turning, trying your damndest to close your eyes and just sleep, but somehow your eyes would just open on their own.
you know it’s bad. unhealthy, even. your brain needs to rest to function properly, and you’re starting to feel the effects of little sleep more and more.
you huff slightly, throwing a leg out from under the covers, before deciding its too cold for that after a few seconds. you try laying on your side. but pretty soon your arm falls asleep and becomes unbearably uncomfortable to lay on.
it’s not like you’re stressed about anything. or nervous. you’re content. happy, even. your husband is home, keeping you safe.
you just can’t fall asleep.
as you flop onto your back, simon rolls onto his side to face you.
“love,” he mumbles in that half asleep way that makes you feel bad for moving around so much and waking him up.
“sorry, si,” you whisper.
“c’mere,” he hums. his arm slinks around your waist and pulls you into his chest. you tuck your head under his chin, inhaling a mixture of him and his body wash deeply. he tightens his grip, then rolls onto his back, pulling you to lay fully on top of him with your cheek pressed into his bare chest.
you wiggle in his grip slightly. readjusting yourself to get more comfortable. after a few seconds, his arms tighten around you.
“quit movin’ s’much.”
you still. his hands pull at the shirt you stole from his side of the closet, lifting it until your back is exposed. slowly, he rakes his nails down your back. then back up. it sends a small chill through your body, but it feels so good. you can feel yourself relaxing into him at each pass. his heartbeat thrums steadily in your ear. your eyelids start to feel heavy.
“that’s it,” simon says lowly.
he rests a hand on your head, the other rubbing gentle circles into the center of your back.
pretty quickly, you’ve dozed off. with your mouth slightly parted, and little breaths fanning simon’s chest.
he slows his hand, but keeps rubbing gentle circles into your skin. his eyes close. he won’t be able to fall back asleep like this, but he doesn’t care.
yea, i imagine ghost can fall asleep pretty quickly when he wants to…
How do the members of 141 handle reader with a high sex drive? Reader is insatiable. Can they keep up or do they tap out early? Do they beg for more or beg for rest?
requested by @/unknownbooklady
For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE
Task Force 141 x Reader
Content & Warnings (mdni): sexual content, oral sex, rough sex, swearing, established relationship, gn!reader
Word Count: 800
ao3 // main masterlist // imagines & what if masterlist
John Price
“Trying to kill me?” huffs John, chest heaving.
Sweat-slick and naked, John runs his palm over his face, fisting the hair at the top of his head. The man is exhausted, but you said over text that you wanted to breed him, and you’re not finished now that you’re home.
Head bobbing, you bring John back to aching hardness, relentless in your pursuit of having it off. There isn’t nearly enough of John’s cum in you. Fullness is the goal. To leave him empty and you stuffed to the brim.
With a wet pop, the head of his cock bounces from between your lips, pointing toward the ceiling. “John,” you sigh, dream-drenched and heavy. “You don’t need to do anything.”
Hands slide up his hairy chest. Come back down. Fingers running over thick muscles. You take your time, curling those fingers to lightly drag your nails over his skin. He inhales sharply, and you grin.
“Bloody hell,” he groans, hips lifting as you tease him with your tongue. “You’re insatiable.”
With a mischievous smile, you shift, giving John your back. Lifting your ass, you provide him with a clear of you sliding down on him before you start to bounce.
Kyle "Gaz" Garrick
The room smells of sweat and sex.
“I need a moment,” says Kyle, his breathing deep. “Shit. Give me a moment.”
Kyle holds you in his arms, face nuzzling the top of your head, his eyes closed as he attempts to steady himself. You, on the other hand, are perfectly fine. As Kyle contemplates life and his sanity, you play with his dick.
“If I recall,” you begin.
“Hush, you,” mutters Kyle.
“You said you could keep up with me.”
Kyle grunts, a sliver of annoyed defeat in it. “I did.”
Hand roaming down to cup his balls, you gently squeeze them. “Are you sure now?”
A long pause, and then Kyle finally speaks. “Don’t know if I can come again that fast.”
You shrug, snuggling closer. “Sure about that?” You bring your hand back to his dick. “Feels hard to me.”
Kyle snorts and gently grasps your wrist. You cease stroking him. “I’m serious, love. Might be done.”
Drawing your hand away, you bring it to rest on his chest, placing a soft kiss on Kyle’s cheekbone. “Tomorrow?”
Kyle’s arm tightens, bringing you in until you’re smushed. “Telling Price you’re putting me on the path to an early retirement.”
John "Soap" MacTavish
Fisting the base of Johnny’s cock, you give it a loving squeeze. A dribble of cum emerges from the tip, you suck it up greedily. And yet, you’re not finished. Hardly even started. Already you’re stroking him, teasing up that build until Johnny is rock-hard and throbbing.
“Oh, aye.” Johnny chuckles at your eagerness. “Want another round?”
You arch an eyebrow but don’t cease. “That a problem?”
Johnny shakes his head. Bringing his arms up, he tucks them under his head, a pleased smile forming on his lips. “No. Surprised is all.”
“Surprised?” you question, almost mocking. “Didn’t think I could fuck like this?”
Johnny snorts, clearly amused by the exchange. He’s trying to turn this around, to bring you to heel. Funny how he thinks you’ll take orders from him. A quick swirl of your tongue and the man is chocking.
“Talking about the stamina,” he manages, eyelids fluttering as you take more of him.
You head slowly ascends, lips suctioning until his eyes briefly roll back into his head. When the head of his cock pops out, you speak. “Is my stamina too much for you?”
Johnny’s gaze returns to your face. “Maybe. Won’t know unless we try.”
Simon "Ghost" Riley
Beneath you, the sofa shifts, imperceptibly moving with each hard thrust.
At your ear, is Simon’s voice, gruff and thick like he’s smoked too many cigarettes. “Think I can’t keep up?”
You know that tone. Simon uses it when you’re in trouble, or you’ve pushed him a bit too far and he drawn up a punishment. You hold your tongue. While you want to brat over this, to continuously poke at him, that’ll only take you further than you can go.
Simon doubles his efforts at your silence, fucking you harder. His fingers are in your mouth, cutting off your words anyway, though you could use your teeth. Simon’s brute strength severs your ability to do anything except take his cock.
“Always think you can out pace me, bird.”
He’s the one poking now, shifting the power to his hands, leaving you helpless. It’s always where you want to be with him, but the thrill is not knowing how much he’ll deal out.
Saliva pools around Simon’s fingers, dripping onto your lips and chin. Deep enough to stifle but not choke.
Simon lands a sharp slap to your ass. “This is mine. Always mine. You’ll be the one who tires.”
summary: An established "situationship" with your lieutenant begins to blur the lines of "just hook-ups" and something more.
Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem!Reader
wc: around 4700
cw: SMUT!! MDNI. A little bit of plot, somewhat confessions, Reader is a Task Force 141 Operator, reader's call sign is "Wolf" because Author could not think of anything else, 'unprotected' p in v, oral (fem! receiving), fingering, multiple O's, cream-pie, a little bit of aftercare, Ghost has feelings, SoftDom!Ghost, Switch!Ghost, Switch!Reader, kind of SoftDom!Reader, maybe exhibitionism?, ghost is pussy WHIPPED bro, no use of Y/N
cross posted on ao3 @ zieds
“I am not having this conversation with you, MacTavish.”
“C’mon, Lass. Y’know you won’t scare any of us off,” Soap chuckles slightly. “It’s part of the game. You gotta give us his—or her, I don’t judge— name.”
You roll your eyes.
“I could report you. For sexual harassment at the workplace,” you bite the inside of your cheek to keep from smiling. You would never, of course, actually report him. Hell. You’ve had worse conversations with the man than just sharing the name of the last person you had sex with.
The only thing stopping you now, is that person– who’s eyeing you as he swirls his whisky around in the bottom of his glass. And that the hook-up was only… 23 hours prior, when you and Ghost arrived on base for the mission briefing.
“Alright, fine,” Soap grumbles. “At least tell us something, c’mon. If you won’t give us a name, how ‘bout… a rating? One to ten, how good was the person.”
You roll your eyes, again. “This is highly inappropriate.”
“Hey, now! You’re the one who went all in on the details last time! That… Luke guy… y’know the one you said didn’t give good hea-“
“Ugh! Do not bring him up. You know how that situationship ended, Soap. Plus, I told you that in confidence!” you swat his arm. “But, fine! If it will get you off my ass…”
You trail, eyes meeting Ghost’s from across the table. His head tilts.
“An 8,” you hum. One point for every inch, but Soap doesn’t need to know that. “However, there is still room for improvement. He knows I like it a little… rougher than what he gave me.”
“Wow, jeez. What the hell did I miss?” Gaz asks as he returns to the table, sliding a fresh cocktail in front of you.
You see Ghost’s eyes narrow just a bit before returning to their normal, relaxed state.
Soap gives you a rough pat on the back while laughing. “Aye, lass, that alcohol finally starting to settle in?”
You laugh slightly and peel your eyes away from Ghost’s. The conversation continues, with Soap sharing his most-recent threesome story while he was back home, and Gaz teasing him saying “sounds like the girls did all the work, mate, you sure you’re not the pillow princess?”
“What about you, L.T.? Who’s your most recent?” Soap prods.
Ghost never feeds into these conversations. Just brushes it off with a gruff “that’s none of your business”. The group of you thought, for a while, that he was celibate… or maybe just wasn’t into sex. You, of course, know that’s not true. Yesterday’s hook-up wasn’t the first between you. Not even the second. In fact, it became… a sort of ritual. Before every mission, you’d have sex. After you got back, if neither of you were sent to the med bay, you’d have some… mind-boggling blow-off-some-steam sex.
The last three weeks of leave you both had, he spent a majority of it at your apartment, gathering up all sorts of noise complaints from neighbors.
So his usual response of “leave me out of this, MacTavish” won’t be surprising.
“Wolf.”
What. The. Fuck.
Gaz sets his pint down with a thud, and stares at Ghost for a moment before looking at you with a confused expression. You stare at the masked man, trying to keep your expression neutral, but you can’t seem to wipe the bewildered expression from your face.
Next to you, Soap nearly chokes on his beer before letting out one of the loudest laughs you heard from him in a while. Gaz joins in. Then you do too.
“Wolf? You mean, our Wolfie? This Wolf, here?” Soap fights out through his laughter, pointing between Ghost and you as he does. “You’re outta your mind, L.T.!”
Ghost just stares at you, then shrugs. He lifts his mask just enough to down the rest of his whiskey, then sets the glass down as he slides out of the booth.
Soap finally manages to calm down his laughter to bid the man a goodnight.
You drown out the conversation between Soap and Gaz as they continue to talk about women, and the other shenanigans they got up to while on the brief leave. A buzz in your back pocket pulls you to reality. You carefully check the text message, making sure to angle the phone away from Soap and Gaz when you see the name pop-up on your screen.
Simon: My room. Ten minutes.
Shit. Fuck. Shit.
You quickly shoot back the rest of your cocktail and nudge Soap to let you out of the booth.
“I’m calling it a night, boys,” you stretch your back as you stand. “Oh, and, blondie behind the bar has been eyeing you all night, Soapy.”
The blonde bartender averts her gaze as you motion towards her and Soap follows your point. He smirks slightly, and Gaz rolls his eyes.
“Goodnight, don’t stay up too late with our Ghost,” Soap teases with another laugh. You scoff then walk away.
You don’t think you have a choice.
Outside of Ghost’s door, you’ve barely raised a fist to knock before you’re pulled inside the room and pushed back against the door. A small bedside lamp illuminates the room, and gives you a clear look at Ghost’s blown pupils.
“An 8, hmm?” His hands push underneath the skin tight tank top you elected to wear out that night, pushing up the fabric to expose your bare breasts. “That’s not what it sounded like last night.”
You suck in a breath. “You’re lucky they thought you were joking, Simon.”
“Ah. No. No ‘Simon’ tonight, sweetheart.”
The fabric of his mask rubs against your neck as he leans down to whisper in your ear. His hands leave your torso and grab both of your wrists, bringing them above your head and pinning them against the door with just one of his hands.
“It’s Ghost. I want this whole fucking base to know who you belong to. Don’t forget, Johnny’s sleeping next door. When he gets back, I want him to hear that you know I’m much better than an 8. Got it?”
“Y’all have some sort of big dick contest going on?” You tease, pushing your hips forward to grind against him. “Might as well call him in here so he can watch.”
Ghost pulls back, his eyes narrowing at you. “You’d like that, huh? To show off for him? Show him how your pretty body reacts to me?”
You suck in a breath as his free hand curls around your neck, not tight, just enough to hold you in place.
“Too bad, I don’t like sharing. You’re mine. Mine to see, mine to fuck. Got it?”
His words send a chill down your spine, and a heat between your legs. He’s never said anything like this before.
“Careful,” you muse. “I might think you actually want a relationship with me.”
Ghost’s shoulders tense. You watch as his chest rises slowly, then falls with an audible exhale. His hands drop back to your waist and hoist you up. You wrap your legs around his waist and reach for the edge of his mask. Before you can grab it, he jerks his head away.
“Mask stays on, sweetheart,” he mumbles.
You give him a quizzical look, but don’t push it. Is the mask a turn on? Yes. But, he’s never actually worn it during sex. In fact, he’s very adamant about separating work-him, from the stuff he has with you. Behind closed doors, he’s not Ghost. Usually.
Ghost sits on the bed, pushed into the left corner of the room, with you in his lap. You lean forward, pressing a kiss into his cheek through his mask. You trail down, ghosting your lips over his neck. You feel him shudder underneath you.
“You gonna let me kiss you properly,” you pause, leaning in close to his ear. “Ghost?”
A noise reverberates in his chest. One second you’re sitting in his lap, the next, you’re flat on your back with him kneeling on the floor between your legs. His eyes are on you as he places both of your legs on either side of his head, so the bend of your knees rest on his shoulders.
“I think you’re forgetting who’s in charge, Wolf,” he says in a low tone. A warning. You’d never thought the stupid call sign that you’ve carried with you since your days in the Navy could sound so hot. But in this moment, it sends a wave through you, and makes your thighs tense.
His hands wrap around the tops of your thighs and pull until your ass is dangling off of the bed, and your—still clothed—cunt is mere centimeters away from his face. You wiggle slightly. Testing. His grip tightens, his blunt nails digging into the exposed skin of your legs.
Ghost’s eyes flick down between your legs. You know he can see the red lace of your panties peeking out from beneath your too-short denim shorts. Maybe he can even see the small wet patch you can guess is forming from the way you feel it drip out of you. You sit up enough to pull your tank top fully off, throwing it to the floor somewhere— you’ll have to search for it later.
You arch your back slightly, your hands finding Ghost’s head and trying to push him closer. One of his hands engulfs both of your wrists, pulling them off of him.
“Ghost,” you plea softly. The ache between your legs is growing. Your wrists twist where he holds them pressed against your stomach.
“Keep them there,” he presses your wrists gently down. “Or I stop.”
You huff, but nod.
Slowly, his hand leaves your wrists. You do as you’re told. Both of his hands hook under the waist band of your shorts.
“Wait they’re kind of tight, you’ll have to unbutt-“
The sound following his tug makes you gasp. A jagged, tearing, as the shorts rip at the seams, turning into nothing but a wad of fabric on the floor.
“Those were my favorite shorts,” you say. You can’t deny the action made your pussy twitch, however.
“Shorts,” you can hear the slight grin in his voice. “I wouldn’t have called them that, baby.”
You almost jump as his masked lips press into the center of your panties. He exhales slowly through his nose at the contact. God you want to rip off that stupid balaclava. Your fingers twitch slightly, and you mimic his breath.
“Can feel how wet you are through all of this,” Ghost murmurs. The slight friction from his lips, making you squirm slightly.
“Ghost,” you breathe out, pressing your pussy harder against him. The tip of his nose brushes your clit. “Please.”
“Hmm,” his head pulls away. In place of his face, his thumb presses your clit softly. Not moving. Just a tiny amount of pressure. “‘Fraid that begging won’t work.”
His thumb circles once. Just barely brushing against your sensitive nerves. Even still, it’s enough to make you take in a sharp breath and clench your toes slightly. You lift your head to watch, and meet his eyes. His pupils are blown so wide you can barely catch the light color of his irises. He presses his thumb a bit harsher, making your mouth fall open softly.
“There she is,” he sweet-talks. “My pretty girl.”
You bite your bottom lip, bringing your elbows to rest beside you so you can hold yourself up and watch him. Your right knee wraps around his head, pulling him closer again.
“C’mon, Ghost,” you hum. “I know you want a taste.”
His eyes roll back and flutter just slightly.
“Fuck,” the swear comes out sharp. His free hand fumbles a bit to lift the bottom edge of his mask up until it rests on his nose, exposing those perfect lips you’ve seen wrapped around your clit multiple times before. His tongue swipes across his lips to wet them before he leans in, kissing at the fabric. You pull your leg tighter, and he grunts.
Ghost is putty in your hands at this point. He likes to put on this tough-guy “you listen to me” act. But you know how to break that down pretty quickly. His tongue presses against the wet spot pooling in your lace. The warmth of it in contrast to the cool air of his room makes your toes curl.
Ghost circles his thumb faster as he sucks at the fabric, the addicting bitter taste of your pussy coats his tongue. He groans again, his arms tensing around your thighs, trying to pull you impossibly closer to his mouth. His eyes flicker up at you, and you can see the center of his brows quirk upwards as your eyes meet.
“That’s it, baby,” you whisper. He huffs against you, hooking a finger under the crotch of your panties and pulling until they too resemble nothing but a strand of ribbon.
“Those were my favorite,” Ghost nips at the inside of your thigh. “I’ll buy you new ones.”
You giggle and wiggle your hips, taunting him. He takes the bait and leans back in. His tongue presses against your perineum, gathering the wetness that dripped down. He flattens it, then slowly drags upward to your clit. He hums as he wraps his lips around the bud, sucking softly and using his tongue to rub circles against it.
Your head lulls back and you pant out a swear. He repeats his last motion for a while; sucking your clit and rubbing his tongue against it. You pant out, grinding your hips slowly on his face. He breaks away with a gasp for air, then kisses your hole that flutters from the loss of contact. His tongue prods at it, gathering more of you. His finger replaces his tongue as he returns to your clit.
No matter how many times you fuck him, you will never get over how he feels. He watches your face as he slowly slides his middle finger into you, curling it gently upwards at his second knuckle, hitting that one spot inside of you he knows will make you a mess. You moan at the feeling, arching your back just slightly.
Ghost breathes heavily against you. “Fuck, you taste so good. You like that? My mouth on you feels good, huh, baby?”
“Yes, fuck, yes,” your breath catches.
He pushes a second finger in, continuing the curling motion and stretching you out. His tongue doesn’t stop its assault on your clit, either. You bite your lip. The hand that’s still gripping the top of your thigh, squeezes at the flesh, then lifts and gives it a gentle slap.
“Don’t hold back those moans,” he licks his lips. “Want them to hear, remember?”
“Okay,” you nod with a gulp. “Okay, okay. Just please, Ghost, keep going.”
You might consider it embarrassing that he can make you come too quickly with just his mouth and fingers, if you were in a less hazy, less horny, state of mind. But in all honesty, he is just that good.
Ghost obliges your plea, groaning into your pussy as you begin to twitch around him. His fingers pick up their pace a little, now curling into that spot with precision. It makes you see stars.
“Holy– fuck, Ghost!” You nearly scream.
“That’s it, sweetheart. Tell them who makes you feel this good. Come on my face for me. C’mon, you can do it,” Ghost laps at your clit like a starved man.
“M’close,” you whimper, your leg still wrapped around the back of his head, tenses harder and forces him to stay focused on your clit.
“So, so, close,” he teases.
You feel the coil in your belly buzz. It’s teetering over the edge. Sweat beads on your brow as you squeeze your abs, letting the white hot euphoria take over your body.
“There you go,” Ghost coos as you fall over the cliff. Your body convulses as you come around his fingers. The leg around his head falls away, and your arms collapse, sending you falling onto your back, as you pant out his call sign in broken moans.
“That’s it, keep going, baby,” he continues talking you through it. “You feel so fucking good twitching on my fingers like that. Jus’ like that.”
He lets out a soft, pleased, hum at the sight of you coating his fingers. It’s practically dripping onto the floor. Carefully, he repositions you so you're laying fully on the bed. He stands, then kneels on the bed with his knees on either side of your hips.
You watch as he leans over, sticking his middle finger coated with your cum into his mouth and sucking it clean.
“Want a taste?” He offers his ring finger to you. You giggle and open your mouth, letting your tongue fall out. He mimics you while rubbing his finger across your tongue and towards the back of your throat. You wrap your lips around it, gently bobbing your head and swirling your tongue to clean it.
“So fuckin’ filthy,” he groans as he pulls his hand away. You swallow thickly, and can’t fight against the heat that rises in your cheeks and at your core.
Ghost leans back, expertly undoing his belt and pulling it out of its loops with one hand. He stands, and motions for you to put your wrists out in front of you. Really, all it is now is a curl of his fingers, since you’ve done it so many times now. Tying your hands up is one of his favorite things to do. There was probably one other time when he didn’t, and it was your first hook-up, before you had discussed what you were into with him. You hold your hands in front of you, with your wrists touching. Ghost seems to hesitate for a moment. Then gently grabs your hands, kisses your knuckles, and tosses the belt to the floor. Something flutters in your heart at that. But before you can ask about it, his lips are pressed against yours.
You lace your fingers around the back of his neck. The hand not holding himself up above you works to unbutton and remove his jeans. You hear a soft shuffle as he kicks them away.
Outside of his room, there is a slight jingle of keys, and a hushed “g’night, Gaz” from a familiar Scot. You break away from Ghost and he pauses, turning his head slightly towards the door. A shadow passes under the door. More jingling of keys. A door opening. A door shutting. Then a thud as Soap flops onto his bed on the other side of the wall.
“Sounds like Johnny’s home,” Ghost hums, gently brushing your hair from your sweat slicked forehead. You take a moment to admire his biceps, which are squeezed in the sleeves of his t-shirt. You push the shirt up, running your hands along his muscles.
Ghost reconnects his lips with yours. You part your lips to bite gently on his bottom lip. Using one hand to hike your left leg up to rest on his hip, he nudges his way between your hips. Between your legs, pressing into your cunt, you can feel his stiff cock, and you can feel a small patch of precum as it leaks through them. You whine into his mouth as his tongue runs against yours.
“Shhh,” Ghost hushes as he pulls away. “I know, I know. You need me so bad, hm?”
“Yes, please,” you whisper.
“I can’t hear you,” he snickers. “Please, what?”
You whine, rolling your hips up to grind against his cock. “Please, Ghost. Need your cock.”
Just as easily as you can make him give up control, he can get it back.
“One more time, whose cock do you need?”
“Yours! Ghost, pleasepleaseplease, fuck me,” it comes out a little too loud for your own liking. Soap will be teasing you for months after this. If he can even bring himself to believe it.
“Look at you, you needy little thing. Begging for it. You’ll get it, baby,” he brushes a hand down the side of your face before leaning up and swiftly taking off his shirt. You watch as he slowly pushes his boxers down. His cock springs free, slapping him on his stomach. You nearly drool at the sight of it. The tip is flushed pink, and leaking precum, which threatens to drip down his shaft.
If he doesn’t slide it in to you in the next two seconds, you might lose the rest of your composure. Thank god, Ghost seems to be able to read minds tonight, because he quickly spits into his hand, pumps himself a few times, and lines himself up. His free hand lifts your leg until your ankle rests against his shoulder. With the same hand, still holding your leg close to him by the crook of the elbow, he pulls the mask over his chin. You pout slightly.
“Don’t give me that look,” he pushes into your cunt slowly. “You know you like it.”
A sharp moan leaves your throat as he fills you completely. He groans, his head lulling back for a moment as he sets an agonizingly slow pace with his hips. You use the wall behind your head as leverage, with one hand planted firmly against it, you roll your hips in time with him.
“You feel so good,” Ghost moans, his hand squeezing your ankle tightly as he pressed a masked kiss to the inside of it. “Takin’ my dick so well. Like it was made for you–fuck, keep squeezing me like that–like you were made for me.”
You clench around him as he pulls his hips back. He leans forward, using his left arm to brace himself against the wall as he starts to pick up his pace. You reach up, running your nails down his tattoos. He groans, rutting his hips forward harshly. You keen at the pressure against your cervix.
“Feels t’good,” you whine, arching your back. “Feels s’good, Ghost.”
“Fuck, yes, sweetheart.”
Both of his hands are against the wall now, his hips setting a near brutal pace. Sharp noises are forced out of your lungs and ascend in a staccato in time with his thrusts.
Thunk. Thunk. Thu–
If Soap didn’t hear your moans, he definitely hears the bed knocking into the wall. Ghost’s arms flex as he pushes the bed further from the wall to make it quit. You look up at him through your lashes, meeting his ecstasy filled gaze through his mask. You can feel the coil in your stomach start building again, and lower a hand to rub circles into your clit.
“Good girl,” Ghost breathes out. “Come on my cock, f’me.”
You nod quickly. At this point, your mouth is hanging open and you can’t even try to cut back your moans that fill the room, and probably bleed out into the hallway. Ghost grabs your hand at your clit, and replaces your fingers with his own.
“But, you come with me, when I say, got it?” He punctuates the sentence with a grunt.
You whine loudly, your hand grasping onto his wrist between your legs. You’re so fucking close.
“Can’t–can’t hold back, Ghost.”
“You can, and you will, sweetheart. You want my cum in you, yeah? Want me to fill you up?”
You babble out a string of pleas and begs, interlaced with his call sign. He’s never come in you before. Always preferring to make a mess of your face, ass, or tummy. But, god, does the thought of it flip something in your brain.
“Please, please, come in me,” you beg, arching your back and trying so hard to hold back your orgasm. You swear you start seeing stars when his moans pitch up. He’s close too.
“Look at that fuckin’ body,” he bears his weight on his knees again as his hand pressed against the wall drops to your right breast, giving it a gentle knead while pinching your nipple. Goosebumps erupt on your skin in the wake of his fingers as they dance across your stomach. His palm flattens on your lower tummy, pressing lightly so he can feel his cock prodding you through the flesh.
Heat pools under his hand, and you have to bite your lip to distract yourself from coming. You squirm slightly, gasping for air.
“Let me come,” you beg. “Please, Ghost, let me come. Come with me. Come in me–fuck!”
The pressure in you is slowly becoming unbearable, you don’t know how much longer you can hold back. Ghost whines, his hand on your ankle falling to cup your knee and pull you closer.
“Fuckin’ hell,” he grunts. “Okay, baby, come on my cock. C’mon, come with me.”
At his word, the coil in your belly snaps impossibly hard. You arch your back, mouth falling open in a silent wail as stars form in your eyes and your whole lower body nearly goes numb. The pressure in your lower tummy releases as Ghost’s hips stutter against yours.
“Fuck, yeah,” he groans, pushing himself fully inside of you. “Just like that, love. No one’s ever made you feel like this, hmm?”
A loud whine tears through your throat. “No one makes me feel this good, Ghost.”
Ghost chuckles looking down at you. “And no one else will, hmm? Are you mine?”
“Fuckin’, yes. I’m yours, all yours,” you babble, still reeling from your orgasm.
His hand on your tummy rubs small circles. He slowly pulls his hips back, watching as his softening cock pulls out, and your pussy flutters around nothing. His thick, white, cum threatens to drip out, but he catches it with a single finger and pushes it back into you.
“Don’t spill any of that, I want you to feel it drip out of you as we head out in the morning.”
You whine as he fucks his cum deeper into you with two fingers, already overstimulated. His lower stomach, groin, and sheets are soaked with your cum. Ghost gently sets your left leg onto the bed and steps back. You pant, trying to catch your breath, as he looks for a towel.
He comes back after wetting a rag in the small bathroom connected to his room. He runs it along your inner thighs, and across your stomach where you, well, splashed on yourself. Then uses the same rag to wipe himself down.
You manage to push yourself up, scooting to the edge of the bed to try and stand.
“Stay here tonight,” Ghost takes off his mask as he speaks, laying it on his bedside table.
You look over at him. “Really?”
You’re a little shocked. Most of the time, apart from when he stayed at your apartment for a few days, it was sex, then sleep in your own beds.
“Yes,” Simon says almost matter of factly, like he can’t believe you’re questioning it. He extends a hand holding his shirt from earlier.
“But, they're going to see me leave your room in the morning,” you protest, taking the shirt from him and slipping it over your head.
“Yeah,” he smirks. “I think they already know that.”
You scoff and roll your eyes. “Okay. I’ll stay, but I get the dry side of the bed.”
“Bed’s too small, you’ll end up sleeping on me anyway,” Simon sits on the bed as you scoot over. He flicks off the lamp before going under the sheet, folding an arm under his head and placing the other on his chest. You scoot closer, trying to make room between you and the wall so the rough plaster isn’t digging into your back. You place your head on his left pec, wrapping your arm around his torso underneath his arm. He lets out a long exhale.
“Simon?” you whisper.
He hums, already half asleep.
“I think we need to talk about this when we get back from this mission,” you trace small circles on his stomach, watching as he flexes slightly under your touch.
“Yeah,” he pauses. “We’ll sort it out.”
thanks for reading! comments, likes, and reblogs are appreciated! - lovertate
