the wicked will look up and cry "mercy!"

and we will look down upon them and whisper "no." kay, 30, us (est) | 18+, blocks blank blogs

[friarslantern]

CONQUEST 08.08.25 send me a ko-fi

[ghouljams]

John Price is the king of cowgirl. You want to save a horse, you better be prepared for Price to try and buck you off.

Which feels a little silly when you throw your leg over his hips and reach between your legs to get his thick cock notched against your tight hole. It feels silly to think that a man who lays back and keeps an appreciative, if loose, grip on your hips, might give you more than the bouncing you've bargained for. John Price has never been a lay back and enjoy sort of man though, at least not without a little input. He likes keeping hold of the reigns, even when he is the proverbial pony.

"Such a good girl for me," he murmurs as you ease yourself down his length. The stretch aches just on the wrong side of uncomfortable. You feel tight, having to raise back up before trying again. He's big, thick in a way that makes you gasp every time he sheaths himself inside you. Working yourself down him like this only drives home how big he is. When you finally seat yourself fully on him, let out a breath at the feeling of fullness, his fingers tighten on your hips.

"Take your time sweet'eart," John hums. His hands wiggle your hips a little, and you feel his cock shifting inside you. "Don't move 'til you're ready," he tells you. You nod, and he nods back. His fingers squeeze your hips, dig into the soft flesh, and then he moves you. His biceps flex and he drags your hips forward, pushes them back, and his cock grinds against something inside you that makes you gasp. It's molten, aching and tight. Your hips buck into the feeling, your body trying to curl into the pleasure.

John grins, his teeth predatory and too pleased. He drags you back and forth again, forcing you to grind against him and hitting that sweet spot every time. It hurts, hurts in such a soul shatteringly pleasant way that you're starting to see stars with every forward motion. Your hands are planted on his shoulders, your head hung low, and your breath barely filling your lungs before it feels like it's punched out of you. He keeps moving you, back and forth, back and forth, ache and release as the pleasure tightens and builds. Up and up. Your stomach clenches with molten heat, your cunt tingling and hot. Your clit grinds against the coarse hair trailing from the base of John's cock up his stomach, his cock pushing against your soft walls until your brain feels like it's melting out your ears.

"Look at you," John sighs, his brows pulling down as your eyes roll back, "so pretty riding my cock." Back and forth, back and forth. Your cunt feels like it's about to melt, your body is tightening to a painful degree, your muscles pulled taut as you settle at the precipice of orgasm. John grabs your arms and forces you up, your hips following his path even without his guidance. It feels too good, you want to feel good, you want to come. John holds you up, leans you back enough to hit that aching soft spot as he bucks up into you.

Your back arches and you scream, your orgasm splitting down your spine as his hands return to your hips to work you through it. Your muscles shake, your breath heavy as you try to blink the bright spots from your vision. Fuck.

"God," John breathes. His fingers tighten to bruising, his pace picking up as he continues moving you. Your hips jerk on the first forward stroke. Your muscles clench tight, and he groans at the feeling of your cunt pulsing around his cock. "Just like that," John growls, "just like that baby, lemme see you come."

And you do. You come again, and again, and again. Until you're shivering against John's chest, your elbows digging into his firm pecs to try and keep yourself up as he grinds your hips down against him. You can barely feel your legs, every movement sends a pulse of overstimulated pleasure through you, and you're having trouble getting enough air to give him your safe word. Although you're not entirely sure you want to. There's a puddle of your watery come pooled around John's cock, your thighs are slick with it, and still he doesn't let up. He pulls you back each time, fucks up into you hard and fast until you come apart with moans that dissolve into whimpers.

"You- you," you sob out a beg, his cock pressing, releasing, pressing, releasing.

"Me what sweetheart?" He coos, "gotta use your words."

"Come, please," you whine.

"Oh sweet girl," he smiles, "you don't think that's goin' to stop me, do you?"

[ikeyilmaz-deactivated20240405]

💋💋

[beebymoonlight]

mmmm i have thoughts about being threatened because you're simon riley's girl and them realizing that you're not the lady in distress they thought you would be (18+)

it is late when you get to your car. your shoulders sag from a long night at work, and you can't wait to curl up on the couch with something warm to eat and something strong to drink to lull you into a peaceful sleep tonight.

you're alone. he should be home any day now, but you aren't fortunate enough to know when that is. that is how this works, and you accepted that a long time ago. if anything, it made you appreciate the times when he is close, when he is at home. it makes your connection special, and you are comforted by the fact that your bond is more than physical.

your eyes droop, and you don't pay attention to the vehicle three cars behind you that's been tailing you since you left. you press the brake and toe the accelerator on autopilot and memory alone, and you zone out as you cross familiar streets. you think you saw a new movie to watch last night, and you think about how nice it'll be to play it as you cook dinner.

you park in your usual spot, getting out and shutting the door behind you. you open the backseat, grabbing your bag and closing the door. in the reflection of the mirror, you see someone behind you, just standing there.

you react first. you toss your head back and smack him with the back of your skull, and you're satisfied when you hear the telltale crunch of a nose breaking. when you spin around to face him, he's shouting, cradling his nose, but he flicks a blade out quickly, pressing you up against your car and putting the sharp edge to your neck.

"fuck!" he cries. "fuck! what did you fucking do?!"

you raise a brow, "you sneak up on a lady like that, and you wanna start complaining?"

"shut the fuck up," he snapped. you don't flinch, even as he digs the blade a little more into your neck. you tighten your jaw at the feeling of the edge pricking you a little. you narrow your eyes, tilting your head to the side.

"this isn't random...is it?" you ask. he stands tall, taller than you at least. he's a scrawny thing, but he's still bigger than you, and he has a weapon. his pupils are a little dilated, telling you he have taken something for the edge, and he fidgets. he's wearing a black bandana to cover the lower half of his face, but you can see the peek of brunette curls and the wild green of his eyes. you memorize the eyes, the accent--ukranian, georgian, russian? you try to place it as he speaks again.

"mm..." he shakes his head, "you're smart girl, i'll give you that."

you click your tongue, "then i don't have to tell you what a bad idea this is, do i?"

"it's because of that, that's why i'm doing this--" he comes closer, and his breath stinks, even through the mask. "they fucked with me, so i'll fuck with them. starting with their whores."

you tilt your head to the side, "oh...you really..." you smile a little, and it is off-putting. he frowns a bit momentarily. the smile you wear startles him. "you really don't get it."

"no, this is--"

"they won't just come for you," you whisper. "they're going to come for your family. mom. dad. sisters. brothers. cousins, friends--" you grit your teeth, "anyone that even so much as opens a fucking door for you or shines your goddamn shoes is going to lose a limb, are you ready for that?" you snarl a bit. "and when they find you, which they will, believe me--" you laugh, "it will be slow. it will be painful. you think you're the first?"

"fucking--"

"you aren't," you snap. "you're not the first, and you won't be the last." you glare at him, meeting his crazed eyes, and you take a deep, shaking breath. "so i want you to think again about what you're doing. i want you think about what it is you're going to do. because for every scratch they find on me...they are going to give it back to you." you blink, "so think. i'll wait."

you lean back against your car, your posture relaxed, your feet steady. it unnerves him, how calm you are. how you don't flinch, how nothing scares you, not even with his blade right against your soft skin. it doesn't phase you, and it's terrifying.

"they stole from me," he says finally. "eye for an eye. you'll just have to accept that."

you sigh, pouting a little.

"god, i...i really wish...i really wish you hadn't said that."

you bang on your car with one hand, drawing his attention away from you for just a moment. with your other, you slip your keys into your fist and you swing. you block his knife-wielding arm, sinking the pointed end of the key into his face, and you go for the vulnerable spots. back to his bleeding, broken nose, against his mouth, and the finishing blow, right into his eye.

he screams, the knife clattering to the floor, and he drops to his knees, cradling his bloody face. his hands shake, and you put your foot to his chest and kick, knocking him onto his back on the pavement.

you pick up the blade, holding it steady before you step on his neck, making him wheeze. he thrashes, preoccupied with wondering if he'll go blind in one eye.

"i told you," you spit. "you're not the first."

for a moment, your resolve breaks. your lip trembles, and you squeeze the handle of the blade tight for stability. this is the price you pay for loving someone. this is what you must do to keep a ghost, and although you feel strong and resilient and capable, you feel fear, too.

"he'll have to be the last, then."

your head snaps to the side when you hear it. he stands on the sidewalk, duffel bag at his feet. he's still wearing his gear--and fuck, he looks so big when he wears it. he looks so broad, the boots make him just that much taller, and it seems as if he hasn't had time to unload the artillery he normally wears. there's a gun holstered to his thigh and magazines stuffed into their pockets in his vest. he still wears his mask, eye-black smeared messily across his pale face.

it means he came here immediately--it means he didn't have time to undress. it means he wanted to come home, and come home fast.

you breathe easier when you see him there. when you step aside and the man beneath you gets a look at him with his good eye, he starts to cry. he sputters, starts to beg, but it falls on deaf ears.

the gravel on the pavement crunches under his boots as he comes near. like a magnet, a gloved hand comes up and grips you firmly on the back of the neck, and you lean up on your toes, tilting your head back just enough to kiss him through the mask.

it's soft, sweet, a little hungry after the time apart. you pull away slowly, smiling up at him. he narrows his eyes, angry, but it isn't at you.

"missed you," you whisper, and he grips your jaw with one big hand, tilting your head to the side. he grunts when he sees the thin line left behind from the blade, tiny droplets of blood beginning to peek out from it. "missed you so much--"

you gasp when his hand falls and gropes you. cupping one side of your ass, squeezing the fat of it in his paw and drawing you near. he pressed the front of you against him, despite the layers that separate you, and he hisses.

"are you olright?"

you nod. "just fine. he's new at this, i think."

you hum as he squeezes your ass again, patting it gently before nodding back towards home.

"get inside," he leans down and presses his covered mouth to yours again, and you can feel the rumble of his growl deep in his chest. "gonna rid y'of the rubbish, sweetheart."

[gold0kapi]

Covert Ops Soap in the Zombies Lobby<3

[ceilidho]

prompt: blue collar worker ghost knocking reader up in a gas station bathroom on a whim. (nsfw, 2k)

-

Just to look over at him on the driver’s side drives you crazy.  

His buzz cut uncovered by a hood or balaclava is the new normal. It makes your blood rush to think of dragging your fingers across it, never long enough to really grip; heats you up faster than sitting by a fire or plunging into warm water. It’s the same new normal as the bristly, naked skin of his jaw, which flexes under scrutiny. He hadn’t gotten around to shaving earlier—rarely does these days as long as he can keep to a five o’clock shadow—and it makes you shiver when you think of the raw tenderness on your inner thighs, a consequence of that decision. 

These are the consequences of trust and loyalty. Not long ago, you wouldn’t have expected more than a glimpse of dark eyes behind a mask. 

The window is cracked open just enough to let the smoke from his cigarette out. Black fingerless gloves, nails bare and trimmed, dirt and ink trapped always in the grooves of his fingers. Eyes heavy lidded as always from poor sleep, shot nerves the takeaway from an old life of brittle thin sleep. His cortisol levels, to this day, must ride high in the bloodstream. You’d give anything to ease it at a touch, but that’s not how things work. 

“Keep lookin’ at me like that and we’re gonna have a problem,” Simon says when you glance over at him for the fifth time in as many minutes. 

“A problem?” you repeat. You’re not trying to be coy—you’re really not—but it comes out that way regardless. A bit breathlessly too, you realize with a small degree of embarrassment. You’ve got no shame these days. 

He grunts instead of answering. Your fists close over your thighs as you dry to concentrate on the road ahead of you instead of the persistent ache between your thighs. It’s not his fault that your pussy picked now of all times to get desperate. 

You peer over at him again out of the corner of your eye. 

“Bird,” he growls. Doesn’t even have to look over at you to know that you’re staring. Just another weird six sense from another life. It’s a warning though, one you hear loud and clear. 

“I didn’t say anything,” you say in a huff, turning your head fully away from him now to stare out the window. 

Only a handful of minutes tick by with you watching the brown patches of grass and the trees lining the motorway before you shift in your seat. Acutely aware of the wet spot between your legs, the way Simon’s fingers curl over the steering wheel loosely when he drives one handed, the smell of smoke on the upholstery, the grimy spots on the windshield where the wipers don’t reach, the moment he shifts and the weight of him makes the leather squeak. 

You peek over at him again.

He doesn’t bother signalling before veering into the rightmost lane, ignoring the furious honking from the car right behind you. You yelp when he takes the exit at a breakneck speed, fingers gripping the underside of your seat before whipping your head around to glare at him. 

“What’s the matter with you?” you scream, spine stiff from the sudden lane change. 

Simon doesn’t answer you, but you notice that the exit leads to a rest stop just off the motorway. It’s one of the less frequented ones—just a cluster of fast food restaurants and a gas station. He pulls into a parking space and practically slams on the brakes, making you jerk forward in your seat. Simon’s never been the most cautious driver, but this is a whole new level for him.

“Simon—Simon, what are you doing—” you hiss through clenched teeth, but he’s already up and out of the car, circling around to your side. 

Your heart goes hummingbird quick in your chest, stomach in knots. When you pant out a breath, it comes out shaky with nerves and excitement. You toy with the idea of pressing down on the child lock when he comes around but think the better of it. There’s already a twitch in his eye. 

You look up at him through your lashes when he opens the door and leans in to release your seatbelt. 

“Get out,” he orders, and yanks you out before you can reply. 

The walk to the gas station is tense and you struggle to keep up with him. He walks too fast and expects you to keep up, growling down at you to move it, but you drag your feet a little. It’s shameful how even that gets you worked up. 

“Are we gonna—?” you ask breathlessly, irritation seeping out of you. Simon doesn’t answer, just tightens his hand around your wrist. 

A chime above the door jingles when the two of you walk in, heading straight for the back. You catch the attendant staring at the two of you with open contempt and give a tight, embarrassed smile back. Simon doesn’t so much as glance over. You think he’d let the man call the cops if it came down to it. 

The gas station bathroom is one of the crummier bathrooms you’ve ever been in, but you hardly register that with how Simon hauls you up against the door he just slammed shut and kisses you within an inch of your life. His kisses are ever slick and wet, dangerous for you—drugging when he drags his tongue over yours and a hand cups your head to angle it just right. You want to give as good as you get, but it’s easy to let yourself get swept away and open your mouth to let him in because you feel his hunger. 

“That cunt never gets tired of me, does she?” Simon mumbles into your mouth. He steals your words from you when he slots his lips over yours again. Only gives you enough space to drag in a sharp breath. 

It’s in your best interest. The only words available to you are pathetic little pleas, desperate fingers digging into his jacket and trying to pull it off so you can feel the muscle underneath. Trying to get as close as possible to him, to wrap yourself around him. A needy, pitiful thing. 

“Poor thing,” he sighs, pulling away from your mouth and laughing when your lips chase after him. Standing up on your tiptoes to kiss him again and kiss, hands tugging him down by the back of his neck. “So horny that you nearly made me crash the fuckin’ car.”

“Couldn’t wait,” you whine, peppering his neck with kisses when he draws up to his full height, nearly dizzy now. “Sorrysorrysorry, please—please fuck me, Simon—please—”

“Not here, bird—want you to see how desperate you look.”

He drags you over to the other side of the bathroom and makes you stand on his boots and face the mirror covered in lipstick and sharpie and god knows what else—“c’mon, up you get”—while he rucks up your dress. The stark contrast between the two of you in the mirror makes you baulk. Like you haven’t slept with him before and lived to tell the tale. He’s all dark clothing and mountains for shoulders, mouth always set in a flat line of impatience that would make anyone else turn the other way. 

You, however, press yourself back into him. 

Rough fingers tug your panties to the side, not bothering to check if you’re wet. Assuming that you are—that you always are with him, eager to cant your hips and offer yourself up to him.

You try not to think about how your pelvis is already tilted towards him.

Simon holds your head up with a single hand under your chin, squishing your cheeks a little. “Fuckin’ hell…look at that,” he rasps, eyes almost black with lust. 

“You’re being mean,” you whine, pushing back against him and wiggling your hips. 

“Doesn’t matter how many times I give it to you—always whining for it. Cock hungry bird.”

It would hurt if you didn’t already know how much he wants you too, the deep rasp in his voice betraying an aching, insatiable hunger. An arm locks like a bar across your chest to hold you in place, his hand fitting over a breast just to have something to hold. He can tell you again and again that it’s just you, but you know that he wants it just as badly as you do. 

He reaches around to undo his pants and then you feel a familiar cock bully its way into you, a tight fit only eased by the wetness almost glistening on your inner thighs. He grunts when his cock pushes into you, the same hand reaching around to rest low on your stomach, pinkie brushing the top of your mound. 

The first thrust jostles you, forces your palms to slam down on the mirror even though the arm across your chest keeps you tight to his chest. It’s sticky under your fingers. You wince when you think of how much Purell you’ll need after this, but the thought melts away when he pulls his cock almost all the way out of you before slamming back in. 

“Yes, yes—fuck—” you gasp, staring at your reflection in the mirror. After a couple hours on the road, you’re not exactly in tiptop shape—sweaty and in need of a shower and coffee—but any timidity evaporates under Simon’s hot gaze. It eats you up. 

His jaw flexes with each thrust, eyes flitting between your tits bouncing under your dress and your face until it stays there, devouring you in a single heated look. Every time your shoes almost slip off his boots, he pulls you tighter into his chest; you couldn’t get out of his hold even if you wanted to. The thought makes the blood rush through your ears. 

“Almost need someone else jus’ to take care of you when I’m not around,” Simon growls. He gives your breast a rough squeeze, an admonishment. 

“No—no one else—” 

“Jus’ me then, pet? No one else can take care of this little cunt?”

You shake your head, maybe nod, maybe sob a bit. It’s hard to tell. The hand on your low belly grips into the flesh, holding you in place while he rails you over the sink. Impossible to look away from the man towering over you, a man you’ve let willingly bend you over and get between your thighs. You wouldn’t even if you could. He’s the summation of everything you’ve ever hoped for, packaged in the too big body of a gun for hire, riddled with nerve damage and a nasty temper. You wouldn’t trade him for anything in the world.

Your eyes slip shut.

“Tell you what,” he breathes into your ear, the burr of his stubble rubbing your neck raw. “I’ll give you somethin’ else to keep you busy.” 

Your eyes spring wide open.

He shifts his stance and drives into you with renewed vigour, muffling your sounds with a hand over your mouth. The mirror fogs up through the gaps between his fingers, the room damper and stickier now than when you entered it. Tears build in the corners of your eyes. 

When he goes quiet, you know what’s about to happen. Your toes curl in your shoes when he exhales a ragged breath, gritting his teeth when he meets your eyes again in the mirror. Something about his gaze alone makes you come, like a deep press into your soul. The fat cock stretching you out is just a bonus. 

The come down is harsh, laboured breaths panting out of you until your chest finally settles, until it feels safe enough to move. You lower one foot from on top of his boot just for Simon’s arms to constrict even more, holding you fast to his chest. He can probably feel your heartbeat against his wrist. 

“Quit squirming,” he scolds, giving you a little warning squeeze.

“‘M sweaty,” you complain.

“We’ll towel off at home,” Simon says, rolling his eyes. “Don’t bitch.”

“I’m not bitching, I’m hot—” 

He lets you carp and moan about your inner thighs being covered in beard burn and come while straightening out your dress, pulling your panties back into place. He’s quicker with himself, doesn’t even bother grabbing a paper towel to wipe himself off before shoving his cock back into his pants and zipping up. When you ask him to hand you one, the look he gives you scorches you right to the bone. 

“Wait ‘till we get home,” he says, hand on your back when he unlocks the bathroom door.

“Like you aren’t gonna do it all over again the second we get there,” you mutter.

His smirk isn’t smug, but it’s a near thing.

[bloomishere]

[bits-and-babs]

✰ 𝐒𝐀𝐔𝐂𝐘 - 𝐒𝐈𝐌𝐎𝐍 ‘𝐆𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐓’ 𝐑𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐘

↳ summary: prompt: “Shall we put that mouth to better use?” — A particularly crass comment over the radio almost exposes your secret situationship with Ghost.

↳ pairing: Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x f!Reader (Delta)

↳ [1k] content: 18+ MDNI. Violence, murder, injury detail, slight jealous Simon, secret relationship, panties as a gag, size kink, p in v sex, punishment, soft!dom-sub dynamic, tied wrists.

ghost masterlist I| main masterlist |I join taglist

“Taking out the trash, Ghost?”

You shouldn’t have said it– It just slipped out. A reference to a ridiculous joke that Soap had made over the coms once. You can hear the Scotsman giggling over the radio, evidently finding your remark hilarious. 

“You’re pushing it now, Delta,” Ghost’s gruff accent crackles across the coms, the thud of a body slumping to the floor punctuating his warning. It’s terrible, really. You watch him work through a wall of mercenaries, jabbing his serrated huntsman’s knife into the soft walls of their jugular veins and shooting them through the temple with a silenced gun while you observe from the relative safety of the CCTV centre. “It’s like I’ve got deja vu.”

“Sorry, Lieutenant,” you mumble, trying to move past your obvious overstep. 

“You’ve been spendin’ too much time with Soap,” Ghost cuts through your quiet apology like the throats of the men that crumple to his feet. “Gonna start assignin’ you missions with Alejandro instead.”

The spluttering disbelief of the Scotsman on the line just makes you smile, shaking your head at the jealousy Simon was attempting to disguise with authority. You watch him peek over the crate he’s hidden behind, scanning for hostiles. 

“To the left, Lieutenant,” you advise him to advance. He crouches his gigantic body as low to the ground as he can, flipping the knife handle in his hand for a better grip. The blood of his victims paints his hands dark on the grainy black and white footage of the CCTV cameras. Soap ceases his wordless, bumbling protests while you both hold your breaths, waiting for Ghost to take the mercenary out. 

It’s a simple dispatch. Simon plunges the crimson-laden blade into the neck of the unsuspecting target and lowers the body to the floor as he scrambles at his neck desperately. You hear the choking death rattles over the radio before he falls silent.

“She’s learnin’ from the best, L.t.,” Soap continues, finally piecing his incoherent sounds into a sentence. You hear the muted scoff on the other end of the mic and can’t help the giggle that falls past your lips. 

“There’s a lot more where that came from,” you smile, watching Ghost clear the courtyard. The members of Task Force 141 watch from the shadows, readying for his approval to advance and open fire on the inhabitants of the abandoned construction site that the local drug lords appropriated as a central hub. 

“How ‘bout we put that mouth to better use?” Simon answers with little thought, the coquettish comment catching the attention of the others on the line.

Gaz whistles, and you hear Alejandro chuckle. 

“L.t!” Soap speaks up, and you can tell that he’s grinning from the smug tone of his voice, “A little saucy, don’t ya think?” 

“Careful, Sergeant.”

No one dares speak up again, the silence over the coms only broken when Ghost gives the order. Conversation is replaced with the roar of bullet spray and bodies thumping to the floor.

                                                    ✰

Arousal coats your tongue as Simon’s gloved fingers shove the cotton fabric of your panties into your mouth. You whimper softly, tears welling in your eyes at the burning stretch. Ghost had thrust into you all at once, the blunt head of his cock searing up against your cervix and blooming white hot in the pit of your stomach. 

“Shush,” Simon scolds you, but his gruff voice holds no malice. It’s punishment, you think, retribution for putting him in a position where your little trysts could have been found out. Of course, there’s no real blame aimed at you, but Ghost likes having a reason to penalise you, so to speak. 

You choke back a sob, feeling the rippling muscles of his abdomen rear up beneath your fingertips and thrust deep inside you. He’s bruising your guts like this, settling you on top of his hips as he lies back. Wrists bound behind your back with a crystal-white zip tie, your skin blooms with a bruise as you kneel helplessly over his cock, forced to take whatever he gives. 

“Got nothin’ to say, love?” The midnight black of Ghost’s mask conceals the smirk you know is tugging on his plush lips, and you can just barely make out the gleam in his eyes through the murkiness of the tears welling at your waterline. The sweet taste of your own slick soaked into the cotton of your panties gags you, and you can only manage a desperate shake of your head before Simon brutally thrusts up into you.

The ache is brutal, each savage stroke rattling your lungs and jolting your body upwards. Your nails dig into the soft skin stretched across Simon’s rock-hard abdomen, and you hear him groan beneath the balaclava fabric. His huge palms swallow your hips, digits burying into the flesh there.

“Be good for me, love,” he growls, “Nice and quiet now.” 

It’s pointless, you just barely think. The cot beneath you is so rickety that you’re sure that the team will hear the squeaking of the metal frame even past the stone walls of the safehouse you all shared for the night. 

A fierce snap of Ghost’s hips winds you, a squeak working past the bunched-up fabric of your panties stuffed in your mouth. Your head lolls back, eyes rolling as his cockhead punches up against something mind-numbing. It sparks white-hot plasma across your skin, tendrils spidering down your spine. 

“C’mon,” he urges, the rumble in his voice almost breathy with exertion, “Stay quiet, and I’ll give you what you want.”

You can’t. As the orgasm builds in the pit of your stomach with how Simon’s cock batters something blissful inside you, needy, muffled wails of bliss worm their way up your throat despite your best efforts to swallow them down. You needn’t bother because Ghost is too far gone to care who hears, chasing his high with a strained choke of your name.

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[whateveriwant]

Not With a Bang but a Whimper

Summary: Simon has a tendency to be quiet in bed. But maybe, just maybe, you can get him to break his silent streak for once.

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader

Word Count: ~2.5k

Warnings: language, SMUT 18+ (vaginal sex)

A/N: Hello! So we all agree that Ghost's voice is hot, right? And so the thought of him moaning; the filth he'd grunt in your ear… Ugh, I just had to write a little something that would scratch that itch Ghost inflicts on my brain. As always, I hope you enjoy! :)

There's something about the darkness, the vast visual emptiness, that heightens all of one's other senses.

The tang of sweat. The scratch of sheets. The rhythmic, wet thwapthwapthwap of skin against skin.

They all come together to create a harmonious symphony of the flesh that overrides the benefit of sight, though you're sure that wouldn't detract. 

And it's perfect, really. All of it. You wouldn't change a single, microscopic detail. Except, well… Perhaps…

Simon's breath fans warm across your face, a shaky exhale that hardly sounds as it passes through his lips. There's an intake, a pointed swallow, the thick gulp of exchanged air, but then not half a second later he's right back to it – a grave-like silence worthy of his namesake.

In all the time you've been together, you've never known Simon to be a very talkative man. Sure, once he's comfortable around someone, he tends to open himself up more. But for the most part, he's never been one to speak beyond that which is necessary – a fact you'd long known and come to accept. And yet, despite this truth, somehow, you would've never predicted the Ghost's deathly silence extended to the bedroom as well.

Aside from harried breaths and the occasional throaty grunt, Simon might as well be a mute for how much sound he emits whilst between the sheets. And beyond those baser noises, what few words he has said have always been blunt; directional. 'Roll over. Hands here. Arse up.' and the like.

Of course, the case could be made that you make enough noise for the both of you combined – a circumstance you know Simon doesn't mind one bit. But still, hearing Simon's own unsuppressed enthusiasm is a fantasy you've not yet made reality, a dream you haven't seen come true.

But who says you won't ever?

A deep thrust has your back bowing off the bed, your mouth falling open in an airy moan. Another drive forward and you're clenching eagerly around him, restless hands kneading the wide, muscled expanse of his shoulders. 

In and out, deliberate and methodical, he drags his thick cock along your walls. Gradually, mind-numbingly, the even tempo of his hips stokes a heat within your belly, and you try arching up to meet him, building the flames higher and higher.

As you rock, a low, droning moan tumbles past your parted lips, underlining the measured creaks of the bedsprings, the noisy rattle of the headboard. Simon hits a spot within you that leaves you gasping, panting, and your desperate hands seek purchase higher, sliding up the sweat-slicked line of his neck. 

Reaching the soft, damp hairs of his exposed nape, your fingers find home, threading carelessly through the tousled strands at the back of Simon's head. Another drive of his hips has you inadvertently tugging downwards, and suddenly, as he's pulled towards you, you hear the sweetest noise flowing past your ears.

A groan.

Just a small one, hardly above a whisper, but it's rich and it's coarse and it's oh-so-deliciously-deep.

But before it can swell to something more, Simon's burying his face in the top of your chest, smothering the sound to extinction. 

No! Not again. Not if you can help it.

"Simon," you whine, lifting his head back up to yours. Though you can't quite make out his eyes in the darkness, you know he can still see you; still read you plain as day. "Please. W-Wanna hear you. Let— Let me hear you."

Maybe it's pointless – maybe it's pathetic – but you'll never know if you don't at least try.

Unfortunately, he remains woefully quiet despite your pleas – a few desperate cries not enough to dismantle years of practiced silence. Either that or he just wants to hear you beg some more, which you wouldn't necessarily put past him, but you hope he's not so cruel when you're this wanting.

Tangling your fingers further into his hair, you bring him even closer, lips brushing aching lips. You just want him to let go, to break free from whatever's holding him back, to shrug off those internal bonds keeping his voice hostage.

"Let it out, Si. Please." Please please please please please.

Unthinkingly, you squeeze your grip tighter, pressing your nails down just enough to pinch. Honest to God, it was unintentional on your part, but then suddenly, miraculously, euphorically, it's like the floodgates open all at once.

An unfiltered moan rolls through Simon's throat – low and timorous at first, just edging past reluctant, before it rises in intensity, volume steadily increasing, ultimately peaking in a stuttered curse.

"Oh, fffuck," Simon husks to himself, thighs clapping firmly against the cradle of your legs. "Fuck, pet, y— you're—" his words dissolve as you clamp down around him, the keening sound of your voice mingling with his own.

The moment Simon let down his restraints, your reaction was near-instantaneous – skin prickling, toes curling, hairs standing at full attention. This, THIS, is what you've been waiting for – for Simon to reveal what's been hidden beneath that hardened shell of his. And it's so much better than you ever possibly imagined.

Simon grabs at you hungrily, like now that he's let loose, he can't get enough of you. "Feel so fuckin' good. So fuckin' wet." He snaps his hips a little bit faster, emphasizing the obscene squelch of your cunt.

Already you can tell you're addicted to this new side of him; it's honestly embarrassing how a minor change can make you unravel so quickly. Well, at least, you would be embarrassed if you could find the strength to care. Or really, find the strength to feel anything other than surging, dripping ecstasy.

A calloused, firm thumb makes its way to your clit, and a sharp cry bursts forth from your chest, your head craning way back. Simon nips at your jaw as he circles his thumb expertly, swirling your slick around and around until you're trembling beneath him.

"That feel good, yeah? That what you like?" he questions, perhaps with double meaning.

As you try to speak, you find you've lost your voice in the process of Simon recovering his own. Thus, all you can do is nod emphatically, hitching your legs up higher on his hips to urge him on.

You feel him chuckle against your throat at your nonverbal response. Clearly, he's enjoying himself as much as you are, the cheeky Brit.

Your tongue is utterly paralyzed as you let Simon unleash on you, only able to let out small squeaks and strangled whines as you take the full force of his vigor. Your hips pang, thighs ache, and stomach clenches as he slams into you over and over again. The smack of his balls against your ass carries shamelessly throughout the room – the sound loud and obnoxiously wet as he sticks to the juices running down your rear.

"This messy little cunt's fuckin' gushin' all over me. Think you're ruinin' the sheets, pet," he teases darkly.

Another several flicks of your clit has your core tightening tellingly, walls pulsing as you feel yourself inching closer to that blissful release. Simon must also sense your impending finish because he tries adjusting his approach, and you almost sob as he suddenly pulls his hand away, frustrated at the loss of contact. But then he's pressing flat against you, grinding his pelvis along your throbbing, swollen clit, and your cry of anguish quickly morphs to one of unbridled ecstasy.  

Snaking both hands beneath your shoulders, Simon grips the base of your skull, pushing your sweaty foreheads together as he goes to speak against your mouth. "Christ, you're gonna make me cum," his breathing is choppy; stunted. "S'gonna be a big one, I can feel it." The bed jolts as he picks up his pace.

Strings of whispered expletives weave with broken moans and animalistic grunts, creating a salacious melody that overlays the sound of him taking you apart piece by sopping piece.

You're seconds away from shattering, heat flooding every nerve and vein. The only thing stopping you from falling over the edge already is your want to milk this for every second that you can. But ultimately, you can't hold on forever, and neither can he.

"M'close," Simon's huffs, movements turning sloppy. "Can I… inside?" he asks without presumption.

Your tongue still feels like lead as it droops lopsided in your mouth. But you'll try to find your voice again for him, just so there's no confusion.

"Y-Yes," you whisper, more ragged than anticipated. You try swallowing but it's punctured by a whimper, your legs beginning to shake as you feel the endorphins flowing through you. The rising crescendo has you quivering, thighs squeezing him tight, and soon, you can't stop the words from pouring out, bleeding together until you're an incoherent mess. "Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes, yes, yes—!" 

All at once, everything comes crashing over you, leaving your body spasming, brain buzzing, eyes rolling to the back of your head. You claw ferociously at Simon's back as you reach your climax, and you bring him over the crest with you, feeling his harsh, stuttered thrusts as he empties deep inside.

You're almost certain you hear a growl as he spills into you, but you can't be totally sure over the ringing in your ears, hardly able to recognize your own euphoric wails.

You ride out the cascading wave of your orgasm until you're boneless, breathless. Even as you start to wind down, it's like you're detached from your body – skin tingling, limbs numbing, chest heaving uncontrollably. You're still shaking as the fog over your senses slowly lifts, and it's only as you register Simon still moving within you that you come back to yourself fully. 

He gives a last few lazy thrusts, pushing his cum even deeper, before he's spent and slumping down, leaning on you heavily. His weight is smothering as he rests on top of you, like an anvil's been dropped on your chest. For a moment, you think he's going to snuff out the remaining air in your lungs, but then he raises up on his elbows, letting you both take a much-needed breath. 

With a choked gasp, Simon slips out of you, a similar noise escaping you as you feel his cum drip from your pussy. He flops face down on the bed, the harsh sounds of his breathing muffled by the pillows. It's another few beats until you feel somewhat collected yourself, and even then your mind is still reeling, replaying what just happened.

Holy shit. That. Was. Incredible. You didn't expect Simon letting loose to be like that, and already, you're eager to experience it again.

"You… should do that… more often," you say deliriously, earning a rumbling chuckle from the man beside you. With a little difficulty, you roll over to face him, your sensitive folds brushing together as you turn. You're just able to make out his silhouette in the dim, and you see how he shakes his head to himself, then peeks up at you from the pillow. 

"You're a greedy little minx, aren't you?" he mocks.

"For you?" You reach over, brushing your fingers through his hair. "Always." He exhales what sounds like an amused breath at your comment, your hand coming back down to rest by your side. "So… 10 minutes? I should be good to go again." That earns a heartier laugh from Simon, though you're not making a joke, the heat still roiling in the pit of your stomach.

He shakes his head again before shifting on his side to mirror you. "At least let me grab a shower and a bite first. I'm not a bloody robot." 

Oh, you're well aware of that. Machines don't feel nearly that good.

But before you get a chance to retort, a swift peck to your lips cuts off anything you intend to say. You lean into the kiss, pressing your palms to his slick chest, but aren't able to get carried away before you feel him pull back.

You sigh begrudgingly. Alright, fine. You guess you can afford him a short break to recover, but no longer than half an hour before you're dragging him back for round 2.

Simon must notice your reluctant acceptance because he chuckles once more, lightly tapping his hand on your hip. "Tell you what. I'll let you join me in the bath if you can keep your hands to yourself."

You nearly scoff at the offer, brows scrunching in annoyance. He knows that's an impossible feat for you. It'd be like dangling a prized carrot right in front of your nose and expecting you to do nothing but lick your lips and stare.

Simon again snorts amusedly as he rolls to exit the bed. "Figured as much. You'll just have to wait then, pet."

You're about to argue with him when he suddenly hauls himself to his feet. He groans as his back cracks loudly in protest, another grunt as his knees pop one after the other. More gruff noises escape him as he walks stiffly towards the bathroom, joints creaking and crackling with every other step he takes.

The noises erupting from his mouth almost sound exaggerated on purpose, like he's trying to exactly mimic the ones from earlier – the ones that had you melting mere minutes ago.  

"Okay, now you're just torturing me!" you accuse half-heartedly, pressing your sticky thighs together to quell the hollow feeling inside. He's riling you up on purpose because he knows you just have to sit there and take it!

"The only torture here is my bloody joints," Simon calls over his shoulder, planting one heavy foot in front of the next. "'S half your fault my knees 've been shot to shit anyway," he grunts. Half the blame to the military, half to missionary, you suppose. 

His lack of acknowledgement to your plight has you huffing loudly, blowing out a harrumph through pouty lips. In response, Simon clicks his tongue in soft admonishment, unswayed by your whiny tones.

"Quiet," he chides, not bothering to look back at you. "Couple more years and I'll be lucky if I don't yell every fuckin' step," he says, though you figure he's just being hyperbolic. As he's just about to duck through the door, leaving you to your own devices, you hear him grumble, more to himself than to you, "Then I'd really give you somethin' to cry about."

Forced to wallow alone in your own self-pity, you roll onto your back with a sigh. Maybe Simon's right. Maybe you should just be content with what you have. You've already gotten so much more from him tonight than you ever have before. Maybe you shouldn't push too hard.

As you hear the faucet crank on, water pelting tile, you can't help how Simon's last words almost echo through your mind. 'I'd really give you somethin' to cry about,' he'd warned, dark and low. Though he meant it as a threat, and though you know it's your sex-clouded brain getting carried away, those words coming from that voice have you damn near trembling, but not out of fear. And as you lie in bed naked, staring up at the darkened ceiling above, all you can do is grasp at your messy sheets and think to yourself…

You kind of like the sound of that.

__________

A/N: I'd love to know what you thought! Thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoyed!

[sweeetestcurse]

Alex Keller in Call of Duty: Modern Warfare 03/??

[rowarn]

NEIGHBORLY.

simon riley/reader feat. soap + gaz

tags: smut, established relationship (engaged), retired!simon, neighbors!soap+gaz, afab!reader, gn!reader, age gap (not specified but i imagine 30s/20s), long winded pwp

cw: voyeurism, size difference, no foursome, cucking, throat fucking with fingers, blowjob, dacryphilia, pet names: love/lovie/sweetheart, praise, outdoor sex, cunnilingus, wet&messy, simon picks up reader bridal, striptease?, fingering, dirty talk, praise, lots of compliments!!!, masturbation, clothed/naked sex, standing sex, hand on throat!!!!!, creampie

; two guys called soap and gaz move in next door and aren't good at hiding the crush they develop on you. your fiance, simon, decides they're fun to play with.

"You had dressed up so nicely for your company and here he was, stripping it off of you in front of them instead."

8.5k words

When your fiancé surprised you by buying a quaint little house for the two of you to spend the rest of your lives together in, you were elated. It was straight out of your dreams, cute and cozy, yellow on the outside and enough room for a little garden if you so wished. It was in a quiet neighborhood but near enough to everything you needed that you could walk there if you so chose. 

It was all so perfect – living with the love of your life in your first house together. Ready to start your lives and plan the upcoming wedding. Things were peaceful and you couldn’t have been happier. 

Then the house next door sold. 

“You really have to give them away?” Simon huffed from where he sat at the table, cheek resting on his propped up hand. His lidded gaze followed you as you flitted about the kitchen, cat-themed apron covered in flour.

You laugh over your shoulder, “It’s the polite thing to do! We have to be good neighbors!”

“They smell good…” Simon muttered, only making your smile broaden as you walked over to him.

His hands found your hips when you placed yours on his broad shoulders, black t-shirt getting white specks all over it from the flour still on your fingers, “After I get back from delivering these I’ll make a whole batch just for you, deal?”

He tongues the inside of his cheek before nodding, “Let’s get it over with.”

“You’re coming?” you ask, brows raised in surprise. 

“Of course,” he huffs, giving your bottom a little pat when you bend over to grab the tupperware out of the lower cabinet. 

You giggle and carefully place parchment paper inside before organizing the cookies in a way that looks nice. You pop the lid on and make your way to the door where Simon is leaning against it with his arms over his chest. 

You try your best not to ogle him but he looks damn good; a simple pair of blue jeans fastened with a leather belt and a tight shirt that hugs his pecs and stretches the sleeves around his biceps when they flex. 

“Maybe when we get back,” you hum, slipping your feet into your slides, “You can let me suck your dick on the couch, yeah?”

Simon rolls his eyes but doesn’t do a good job of hiding the crooked smile that slips across his face. He turns his back to you and opens the door for you before following you out and down the porch.. 

His heavy boots pound against the stairs, reminding you just how intimidating his stature is. It makes you pause, halfway between your yard and the new neighbors. You turn around and look up at him.

“What?” he raises a thick brow, crossing his arms over his chest again.

“Just…” you take a few steps backwards, playfully squinting at him with pursed lips, “Stay here, okay? We don’t want to scare the new neighbors.”

“You implying I’m scary, love?” he huffs, a smirk on his lips.

“I’m not implying it, Si,” you grin, “Just stay here while I deliver these.”

“You’re the boss,” he sighs. 

True to his word, his feet remain planted right where he stands as you cross into the new neighbors yard. You hop up the stairs and ring the doorbell. 

You hear a clamoring from the other side of the door before there’s a slam against the surface and muffled cursing. You bite back a laugh before smiling politely when the door swings open. 

Two men stand in the doorway, one with a mohawk stands closest to you – probably the one who ran into the door. 

“Oh,” he clears his throat, fixing his posture before flashing you a crooked grin, “Can-can we help ye?”

The other man, with pretty, brown eyes scoots closer, bumping shoulders with the other man, “You’re from next door.”

“Huh?!” The mohawk man gawks, whipping his head over to stare at the other man, “We had a pretty neighbor this whole time and you kept it to yerself?!”

“Are those for us?” he ignored his companion and looked at the tupperware in your hands.

“Oh!” you brush off mohawks comment and nod, holding the box out, “I made you some cookies. They’re just plain chocolate chip, I hope you don’t mind.”

“That’s very sweet of you,” he kindly smiles and takes the container from you, fingers brushing against yours. 

“So,” mohawk rests his arm up on the door frame, eyeing you up and down, “My name’s Johnny but everyone calls me Soap.”

“Nice to meet you,” you nod your head in greeting, introducing yourself before looking at the other man who has opened the tupperware to take a cookie out.

“Kyle,” he offers before taking a bite, humming in satisfaction, “These are delicious.”

“Hey, don’t hog those for yourself, ye pig!” Soap cries, snatching a cookie out of the container before shoving the whole thing in his mouth with a moan, “These are good.”

“Thank you, I’m glad you like them,” you giggle, “You can return the tupperware whenever you’re ready.”

“So,” Soap hums before you can leave, “You’re pretty and you can bake, what else can you do? How about you come in and we can get to know each other more.”

You bashfully lower your head and laugh, “I don’t think my fiance would appreciate that very much.” You gesture over your shoulder. 

Both men comically lean out of the doorway to look into the yard where Simon still stands, arms over his chest, brown eyes practically piercing through them.

“Ah, that’s a shame,” Soap mutters under his breath before sighing, “Figures, I suppose. Lucky bastard.”

You shake your head tossing a little wave to Simon before looking back at your neighbors, “I’ll be seeing you guys around. Enjoy the cookies!”

You can feel their eyes on you as you go and it isn’t until you reach Simon that you hear the door shut. 

Your fiance looks down at you when you stand in front of him, “They liked the cookies.”

“Bet they did,” he hums, letting you take his hand and lead him back to the house where he proceeds to demand a fresh batch just for himself – as you promised. 

The next time you see your neighbors, it’s just Kyle. You’re outside, kneeling in the grass with your hands covered in dirt as you plant some flowers. 

“Hey there, neighbor,” a friendly voice calls from behind. 

You turn to look to see Kyle dressed in a compression shirt, shorts, and running shoes, “Oh hello, Kyle!”

“Doin’ some dirty work, are you?” he asks, eyeing the holes you’re carefully digging.

“Just getting started on my garden,” you explain, “What about you? Going for a run?”

“That’s right,” he nods, “May be on leave but gotta keep movin’ or I go crazy.”

“Leave?” you ask, sitting up straight in interest, “You’re in the military?”

His eyes light up as he nods, “That’s right. Soap and I both.” 

“You don’t live on base?” you ask, unable to hide your interest. 

“Nah, had to live in the barracks for way too long I couldn’t handle it anymore,” he laughs, a charming smile that makes you smile back, “You interested in military men, love?” he asks, flirtatious tone more than obvious.

You laugh softly, “You could say that,” his brows raise in interest, “My fiance is ex-military. Discharged at Lieutenant for an injury.”

His smile is wiped from his face quickly and you bite back another laugh, “Right, your fiance.”

“I could introduce you, if you’d like,” you offer, “Simon doesn’t really get to talk to many people who know what the military is really like–”

“That’s alright, love,” Kyle says, smiling politely, “I’ve got a run to go on, I’m sure I’ll get the chance to meet him soon enough.”

“Alright,” you wave, hands still covered in dirt as he makes his way back to the sidewalk before jogging off and out of sight. 

You finish planting and watering before you place all your tools in the shed and head back inside. Simon sits at the kitchen table, watching the tv that plays some movie from the living room. 

“Hey, sweetheart,” he greets without looking away. 

“Hi baby!” you chirp, making your way over to the sink so you can scrub your hands free of dirt, “I ran into Kyle outside!”

“Who?” he asks, barely showing any hint of interest. 

“One of the guys from next door!” you remind him, turning off the water and grabbing a towel to wipe your hands dry, “Turns out they’re both in the military!”

“Is that right?” that finally gets his attention.

You nod, turning to look at him, “I offered to introduce you but I think they’re a little scared of you after all.”

He laughs through his nose before standing up, approaching you in a couple broad steps. He crowds you against the counter, hands on either side of you to prevent you from fleeing, “Think they wanna fuck you, lovie.”

You swallow thickly and look up at him, “Th-They’re just flirts…”

He hums, leaning down to press his lips against your neck, “Think I don’t know blokes like that? Young guys in the military like them only think about stuffing their pathetic pricks into whatever tight, wet cunts they can find.”

“S-Si, I haven’t showered yet…” you whisper when he starts trailing his lips along the side of your neck, “I was outside, remember?”

He scoffs, “What kinda man do you take me for?”

You giggle, squirming your way out of his hold, prancing past him and towards the stairs, “You can show me what kind of man you are after a shower.”

A grin spreads across his face as he chases after you, your sweet giggles music to his ears and cock already hard and heavy against his thigh, ready for you to be beneath him or the night.

He waits patiently for you to finish your shower. The second you’re out, a towel the only thing wrapped around you, he has you pinned on the bed. 

“You like keeping me waitin’, lovie?” he huffs, nipping at your jaw as he tugs your towel open so he can palm your breasts. You spread your legs for him, legging your knees rest on his hips, “Leavin’ me here with a hard-on. Got my cock achin’, sweetheart.”

“Si…” you sigh wistfully, lashes fluttering as his dirty words make you clench around nothing, “I-I’ll make it up to you.”

“Oh?” he grins, broad tongue licking flat over one of your nipples, “I like the sound of that. You gonna let me use that pretty cunt?”

“Mhm,” you whimper, hands coming up to grip his strong shoulders from the pleasure his tongue brings you.

“So sweet for me,” he hums, rough hands sliding down your body, over your hips and trailing along your thighs until goosebumps rise on your skin. He brings two fingers between your legs to spread your folds apart, the sticky noise audible between the two of you and it makes him snicker, “You’re this wet?”

Your cheeks burn in humiliation, “Sh-Shut up, don’t be mean.”

“Mean?” he asks incredulously, “You’re callin’ me mean while I’m playin’ with this pretty cunt?”

You open your mouth to retaliate but he slides two thick digits into your pussy. You whimper at the burn that it causes but it fades quickly when he crooks his fingers just right to prod that sweet little spot inside you. 

Your blunt nails dig into his shoulders, clutching the fabric of his shirt as he surges up to pull you into a kiss. You whimper into the kiss as he continues to stretch you open on his fingers, carefully introducing a third so you can take his cock later with ease. As you kiss, you grind your hips against his hand, his palm rubbing against your clit. The pleasure makes you sigh and shiver, a sweet little sound that makes Simon’s cock twitch in interest. 

The kiss is sloppy and wet, messy strings of spit between your lips every time you part to take a breath. Your cunt clenches pathetically around his fingers as he fucks you with them, scissoring his digits to really stretch you out. He doesn’t know how much longer he can wait 

“Please, Si,” you gasp, the plea making him stop, glancing over your face to see how badly you really need it. 

He sits back on his knees, flingers sliding out of your cunt with an obscene schlick. He unbuttons his jeans and moves the fabric out of the way so he can pull his hard, leaky cock free. He wraps his hand around himself, using the slick covering his fingers to lube himself up. 

“Take it off,” you whine, making him pause. 

He wants you so bad, just wants to fold you up and stuff his aching cock right in the tight, hot clutch of your pretty pussy. But the puppy-dog eyes you’re giving him has him huffing and obeying. 

“You’re lucky you’re cute,” he mutters, hooking his fingers under the hem of his shirt so he can yank it over his head. 

“Fuck,” you whisper, leaning up to run your hands over his chest and abdomen, feeling the firmness underneath your explorative fingers while he rids himself of his pants and boxers. 

Once he’s finally bare, he gives you no more time to admire his body before he’s pinning you down underneath his massive weight. You can’t do anything but let him, breathing in his scent while enveloped by his overwhelming warmth. 

He grips the base of his cock and slides the tip up and down between your folds, circling your clit to spread his precum all over it before meanly slapping the head against the little bud. The impact makes your thighs twitch and jump, a choked whimper of his name escaping your throat. 

You arch your hips just right, finally drawing the fat head of his cock into your clenching cunt. He grunts, thumb coming up to swirl against your clit.

“Oh, that feels so good, Si,” you whimper, your praise making his whole body shudder as he works his hips forward, sinking more of his cock into you.

“I know, love,” he chokes out, eyes pinned on where you slowly take him inch by methodical inch, “I treat this little cunt just right, don’t I?”

“Uh-huh!” you whimper, thighs twitching against his waist when he hits that sweet spot with practiced ease, sinking balls deep easily with how absolutely soaked you are for him, “No one fucks me as good as you, Si.”

He plants both hands on either side of your head, pulling his hips back so only the head is enveloped by your hot little pussy before he rolls his hips forward and stuffs his full length right back inside. He hits your cervix, a painful shot zaps up your spine and makes you grasp his arms to dig your nails into his skin. 

“I’m the only one who gets to fuck you, lovie,” he huffs, pressing a sweet kiss to your temple as an apology for hurting you. 

His next thrust isn’t as deep, avoiding slamming against your poor cervix but still deep enough that he can grind his pelvis right against your clit every time his hips meet yours.

“Simon!” you squeal, eyes rolling back at the feeling of your orgasm building.

“Fuck, look at that,” he grunts, head hanging between his shoulders, his wild hair tickling your face as he watches the creamy mess you’re covering his cock in, “Makin’ a fuckin’ mess, lovie.”

“You’re gonna make me cum!” you sob, hands slapping against his shoulders when he suddenly redoubles his efforts, encouraged by your announcement.

“I know I am, sweetheart,” he grunts, teeth clenched, “Always make this pretty cunt cum don’t I?”

“Yes, yes, yes!” you wail, throwing your arms around his neck, nails drawing thick, red marks down his back, “Cumming, cumming, cumming, Si! Fuck!”

He curses right in your ear, one arm wrapping under your arched back to pull your chest snug against his. He grinds his cock into you, no longer pounding into the gushing heat of your pillowy cunt, humping his pelvis against your clit to work you through the orgasm. 

When you sag against him, sticky cunt still spasming around him from the aftershocks, he starts fucking you again, this time to his own end. He grunts and groans in your ear, body trembling from the effort of getting his own orgasm – his reward for making you cum nice and hard around him like you deserve. 

“Shit, I love you s’much,” he slurs, lips getting loose from how close his high grows closer. His heavy balls slap against you, aching from how full they are, needing to fill you up with the load he built up just for you, “My pretty baby, so sweet and wet for me. A nice, perfect cunt for me to fuck, shit.”

Your cunt clenches pathetically at his filthy words, hearts in your eyes as you watch how handsome he looks with his brows furrowed and his pupils blown huge, making his brown eyes appear black, “Love you, Si. Please cum inside me, wanna feel you cum, please.”

He pants, slumping against your chest as he uselessly works his hips until his orgasm finally washes over him, spilling his cum inside you with a final, long, drawn out moan. 

“Shit, that’s it, baby,” he whispers, hoarse and breathless as his cock throbs and pulses, spitting out ropes of cum that fill you up just right, “Take it all.”

“Ah…Si…” you sigh softly, carding your fingers through his hair as he rests against you, waiting for his cock to stop twitching from the aftershocks before he pulls out. 

“You alright, lovie?” he coos, soothing his large hands over your body, “You did so well.”

You smile, cheeks warm and body buzzing from the incredible dick he had just given you, “Never better. You’re so handsome.”

He scoffs, rolling over to toss his legs over the side of the bed to stand up. He picks up  his discarded shirt and uses it to wipe off his softened cock, cleaning the mess of your combined cum off of himself.

You hum, “I have to take another shower. Would you like to join me this time?”

He looks up at that, eyes twinkling in interest.

One afternoon, there’s a knock on your door that interrupts your peaceful dinner preparations. You wipe your hands off on your apron and make your way to it, passing by where Simon is transferring the wet clothes into the dryer. 

On the other side stands Soap, an empty tupperware container in his hands. 

“Hey there, darlin’,” he greets, holding the box out, “Gaz and I loved ‘em.”

“I’m glad to hear it!” you giggle, taking it from his hands, careful not to touch his hands with leftover vegetable residue on your own.

“Somethin’ smells heavenly,” he groans, leaning over your shoulder to take a whiff of the aroma drifting from your kitchen.

“I’m just making dinner,” you explain with a little shrug.

“Guess you’re one hell of a cook too, huh?” he compliments, a charming smile on his face.

“I get by,” you laugh.

“Say,” he says suddenly, “Is that big bastard really your fiance?”

You blink in surprise at his bold question, “Y-Yes..?” your response comes out more as a question. 

“Is that a problem?” a deep, annoyed voice comes from behind you. 

You jump when Simon’s firm, tattooed arm wraps around your waist, “Si, you should be watching the stove.”

“You go ahead and finish up, lovie,” he mutters, kissing your temple before shooing you away from the door. 

“Ah,” Soap clears his throat awkwardly, as his back straightens, “Simon was it?”

“You’d be wise to watch your tongue,” Simon warns, “I’m not above putting you in your place.”

“Y-Yes sir,” Soap whispers, hands clasped behind his back, “I’ll be more mindful.”

“Get the hell off my porch,” Simon orders, watching the young man tuck his tail and dash down the stairs. 

Simon quietly closed the door and made his way back to the kitchen where you were plating the food, “Everything okay, Si? You weren’t too hard on him, were you?”

Simon bites back a smile and takes the plates from your hands to put them on the table for you, “Who do you think I am?”

You give him a skeptical look before taking a seat in front of your food, “I don’t want to make enemies with our neighbors, Simon.”

He sighs, taking a seat across from you, “Alright, I’ll be nice, love. I promise. I’ll go over tomorrow and apologize for bein’ rude, will that make you happy?”

“Yes,” you smile, “They’re not too bad. They’re just…rambunctious. You said so yourself, you know how their types are! They’re just flirts.”

He nods, “They’re…interesting characters.”

The next day, true to his word, the next morning, Simon is standing in front of their door. 

“Oh, hello neighbor,” Kyle greets nervously, “Is there something you need?”

“Your friend,” Simon grunts, “I’d like to talk to him.”

Kyle looks worried for a second, glancing over his shoulder where Simon assumes Soap was, “Whatever he did, don’t mind him. He’s just an idiot.”

Simon huffs out a laugh through his nose, “I wanted to apologize to him.”

“Oh!” Kyle gasps before looking back over his shoulder, “Soap, door for you!”

Soap rounds the corner and freezes when he sees Simon standing there, “Hello, sir.”

“Soap, right?” Simon says, “Listen, I was rude last night. I wanted to apologize.”

“Ah, well,” Soap shifts on his feet, casting a sideways glance at his friend, “I-I deserved it, I shouldn’t have said what I said either. Your relationship isn’t any of my business.”

Soap actually looks like a kicked puppy and Simon feels his own interest piqued, “Pretty, huh?”

“Sir?” Soap blinks in confusion.

Simon says your name, “Pretty little thing. Can’t blame you for makin’ eyes.”

“I…” Soap licks his lips, blue eyes wide in shock, “W-Well, yes, sir. Very pretty.”

Simon laughs softly, glancing over at his house where he knows you’re bustling about inside, “You think they’re pretty now. You should see them in nothing, bent over the kitchen table in tears.”

Soap’s throat moves as he swallows around the lump in his throat, mind conjuring up sinful images. Kyle’s eyes practically bug out of his head at Simon’s words.

The large man gives a tight lipped smile as a goodbye before he's stalking off of the porch, leaving the two young men slack-jawed and stunned into silence. 

When Simon’s in the safety of his own home, he places a hand over his face and lets out the low chuckles he had been holding back. 

“What’s so funny, Si?” you ask when you descend from the stairs, a laundry basket in your hands – the second load from yesterday that you hadn’t had the chance to do.

“Nothin’, lovie,” he grins, sharp canines on display, “Let me help you with that.”

“Did you make up with the neighbors?” you ask, letting him take the basket from your hands.

“I sure did,” he coos, pressing a kiss to the top of your head before leading the way to the laundry room. 

You give him a suspicious look but decide not to press the issue further, instead choosing to focus on the other chores you still had to do for the day. 

Things seemingly settle down for a little while. You don’t see either of your new neighbors except for polite greetings in passing. All in all, things seem to quiet down. 

You’re relaxing with Simon on the back veranda, curled in his lap on a swinging bench with a book in your hands. Usually, you’d be scrolling on your phone but Simon was always adamant about being tech-free when you were outside together like this.

Enjoy nature and relax he would say, only laughing when you would call him an old man. 

Just as you start a new chapter in your book, Simon’s hand begins to wander. Your lips twitch as you fight smiling, watching his fingers slip beneath the leg of your lounge shorts. The feeling of his callused skin brushing against the hem of your panties already has you clenching around nothing. 

“Look so pretty like this,” he coos in your ear, hand coming from between your legs to wrap around your throat.

You smile against his lips, “I haven’t even gotten dressed yet today.”

“I know,” he breathes, pressing his lips to yours in a sweet, simple kiss before pulling back to add, “You’re pretty without even havin’ to try, lovie.”

“You’re just trying to butter me up so I let you in my pants,” you tease, practically melting at the feeling of his thumb stroking the skin of your cheek. 

“Don’t gotta butter you up for that, do I sweetheart?” he coos, “You’ll let me right between those thighs without even havin’ to ask.”

Your lashes flutter at his words, heart pounding in your ears because he’s right. Even right now, your panties have grown sticky. His thumb traces over your lips and you open your mouth to let the digit inside. The action makes him raise a brow.

“You want somethin’ down that little throat?'' he asks. You nod your head, not caring how desperate you look, “Even with our little audience over there?”

He watches your eyes widen, clearly startled out of the moment. Your gaze flicks past his face to see your two neighbors Soap and Gaz on their back porch, both nursing beers. They look away when your gaze falls on them but it’s clear they’ve been watching the whole interaction with your fiance. 

“Don’t care,” you find yourself muttering, eyes falling back onto your fiance.

“That’s what I thought,” he huffs, leaning forward to brush his lips against yours, “Knew you were filthy, don’t mind if anyone watches you as long as your pretty cunt gets to cum, yeah?”

You feel breathless as you nod your head. Simon brings his index and middle fingers to your lips that you eagerly open up for him. 

“Good,” he praises, slowly slipping the fingers into your mouth, careful not to gag you on them until you’re ready. 

Your lips seal around the digits, rolling your tongue over the salty skin until they’re covered in spit. Then he slowly starts sliding them deeper into your mouth until the tips are buried in your throat.

“Relax, just like that, good,” he praises, cock leaking against his thigh at the sight of your eyes filling with tears. He pulls his fingers back carefully just to stuff them back in, biting back a groan when you choke around them. 

Simon casts a glance over his shoulder to see the two neighbors you were giving the show to watching with wide, unblinking eyes. Neither could take their eyes off of you as you eagerly let your fiance fuck your throat with his fingers. 

He could see Soap had his hand on his crotch, no doubt gripping his hard cock. Kyle at least had enough pride to not touch himself to the sight of you. 

You reach up to grab Simon’s wrist, signaling for him to pull his fingers out of your mouth. When he did, a string of thick drool connected your lips to the tips. The sight made his cock throb painfully, desperate for some kind of friction. 

“I want you, Si,” you whimper, reaching down to cup his hardened cock through his pants.

“Is that right?” he asks, raising a brow, “Is that pretty little pussy wet?”

You nod your head, “Want your tongue, Si.”

He licks his lips, chasing the fantasy taste of you before glancing back over to the neighbors who now don’t even bother hiding the fact they’re watching the two of you.

“Want me to eat you out right here?” he asks, subtly gesturing his head to next door.

“Don’t care about them,” you whine, a cute little frown on your face that he just couldn’t say no to. 

Before you knew it, Simon was on his knees, tugging your shorts and panties off in one fell swoop. You eagerly spread your legs, locking your arms around your knees to let Simon have as much room as he needed. 

“Look at you,” he coos, using his thumbs to spread your lips apart, exposing your drooling entrance and swollen clit. 

The little bud twitched under his heated gaze, hole dribbling out more thick juices that made his mouth water. He can’t resist the call anymore, leaning forward to slide the flat of his tongue over the length of your cunt, ending with a flick against your clit that made your whole body twitch. 

“Thaaaaat’s it, pretty,” he coos, muffled from the way he refuses to part from your cunt, “Let us hear you.”

Your mouth falls open as he starts eagerly tonguing your pussy, swirling the muscle inside your hole before coming up to wrap his lips around your clit. He eats messy, not caring for all the drool and cum that covers his face or drips down to the floor below. 

He uses his thumbs to keep your folds spread so he can focus on your clit. His tongue swirls around and around, lathering the poor little bud in a heavy film of his spit before he’s wrapping his lips around it again and sucking. 

The feeling makes your back arch and you can’t help the loud moan that tears from your throat. Your nails dig into the soft meat of your thigh, the only thing you can grab from the position you’ve chosen for yourself. 

Simon’s eyes are closed and there’s a crease between his brows of concentration. Neither of you even remembers the fact you’re outside and have an audience of two just next door. All you can think about is how good your fiance’s tongue feels worshiping your clit. 

“Si!” you squeal when he reaches up to tug the hood of your clit back, exposing the little bud for him to tongue at. It’s so sensitive that it aches but it feels too good to stop him, only able to lay back and twitch as you take it. 

He groans in response to you calling his name, cock leaking down his thigh so much that his sweats are sticking to him. Your slick drips off of his chin and he can think of nothing but how good you smell and taste – a 5 star meal all laid out just for him.

“Oh, I’m gonna cum!” you cry out, “You’re gonna make me cum, Si!”

He can’t even bring himself to pull his mouth off of you to encourage you like he usually does. Instead, he doubles his efforts, slurping and sucking at your clit. His jaw is aching but it’s barely a blip on his radar as he feels the tender little bud throb beneath his tongue. 

Your orgasm washes over you quickly and hard. Your eyes roll back in your head as your jaw falls open, a symphony of pleasured cries flit through the air. Your fiance eagerly works you through the orgasm he so easily gave you, tongue swirling and circling your clit until your thighs clamp shut and you push him away, still trembling and shaking from the aftershocks. 

He pulls back, chest heaving as he finally takes the first deep breaths he’s gotten since he started. 

“Good?” he asks, licking his lips to clean your cum off of them.

You nod, breathless, “Take me inside and fuck me, please Si.”

He’s on his feet in seconds, scooping you up bridal style before hurrying back inside, forgetting all about the book you left behind – and the audience still on the porch next door. 

You learn that Simon seems to really enjoy torturing your two neighbors when just a few nights later, he corners you in the bedroom. 

“Our neighbor’s a nosy little bastard,” he coos into your ear. 

You cast a glance over to the window where you can see Soap is lingering in front of his window, acting like he wasn’t watching and waiting to see what would happen next. 

“He’s waitin’ so patiently,” Simon says, “It’s only polite of us to give him somethin’ to look at.”

“Glad to see you’re finally being neighborly,” you tease, a cheeky grin growing on your face. 

Simon’s fingers hook under the hem of your shirt, sliding it up and up until you lift your arms and let him tug it over your head. Your bare breasts bounce free and Simon sucks in a breath at the sight.

“Fuck,” he coos, large hands cupping them, “Can’t believe I get to marry you some day.”

“We still need to pick a date,” you mutter, voice cracking when he wraps his lips around one perked nipple. 

He groans against your chest, “I’d marry you right fuckin’ now if you’d let me.”

You whimper, hands carding through his messy hair before he abruptly pulls away. He grips your shoulders and turns you so your back is pressed against his chest and you’re facing the window – and Soap, who still stands there stunned. 

Kyle pops in from the left, mouth dropping open at the sight of your tits on full display for them to ogle. Simon stares over your shoulder, watching their reactions as he gropes your breasts, pinching and rolling your nipples between his fingers. 

You can’t stop the soft whimpers and gasps that fall from your lips as he plays with your nipples. Your thighs clench together, a weak attempt to quell the ache that settles in your cunt. You never thought you’d enjoy being watched like this – it felt so dirty and wrong but that’s exactly what turned you on. The fact your neighbors wanted you so badly that they would just watch you get touched like this. 

“You wanna give ‘em a show?” he asks, voice dark and deep in your ear, “Somethin’ they’ll be fistin’ their cocks to later?”

“Yes, anything, Si,” you whimper, hands coming up to grip his wrists as he squeezes your breasts, “I’ll do anything you want.”

“Then get on your knees,” he orders, letting your chest go so you can drop to your knees in front of him, “There you go. Just where you belong.”

He unbuckles his belt and pulls his zipper down, reaching inside his boxers to pull his half-hard cock out. You watch with wide eyes as he slowly strokes himself to full hardness. 

A bead of precum oozes from the tip and it makes your mouth water. Before Simon even says anything, you lean forward and wrap your lips around the head of his cock. A soft, sweet sound comes from his throat at the feeling of your hot, soft tongue sliding over the sensitive skin. 

His hand comes down to cradle your jaw, lidded gaze watching how you start to take him deeper. 

When he feels his cock pop into your throat, it feels like the air gets punched out of his lungs. His touch moves from your jaw to your throat, feeling the way it bulges the deeper you take his length down. 

He glances out the window to find Kyle has joined watching with rapt attention at how you swallow his cock. The sight of it makes him pulse in your throat and you whimper at the salty taste of his pre-cum on your tongue. 

When you’ve swallowed all of him that you can take, you bring up a hand to stroke him to the same rhythm that you bob your head. Simon tosses his head back, brown eyes rolling into his skull at the sloppy sounds of you choking and drooling all over him. 

He feels your spit dribble down his balls and over your chin to his hand. It’s everything – it’s messy and sloppy. He can’t even bring himself to look at you, too scared he’ll blow his load right down your tight little throat before he can even fully enjoy it to the fullest. 

“Fuck,” he groans, the sound going straight to your cunt. You can’t help but slip your hand down your panties, finding your cunt slippery and wet. Your fingers circle your clit as you gag around your fiance’s thick cock.

“That’s it, lovie,” he huffs, “Touch that pretty cunt for me.”

Your lashes flutter at his words, rocking your hips against your own touch. Simon’s hand rests on the top of your head, slowly starting to rock his own hips, heavy balls slapping against your chin with the movement. You halt stroking him with your hand and brace yourself against his thigh, giving him permission to fuck your face as he wants. 

“There you go,” he grunts, teeth gritted, “Cum on those fingers for me and I’ll cum down your throat, yeah? Think you can do that?”

You nod your head, doubling your efforts between your legs. The mess of drool that Simon fucks out of your mouth froths and drips everywhere, the entire endeavor growing messier and messier with each thrust he makes. 

Simon watches the way your eyes roll back in your head, thighs twitching and spasming around your hand. He can feel the muffled vibrations as you whine against the cock filling your mouth. 

With a final, deep groan, Simon’s balls draw up and his brows furrow before he’s spilling right down your throat – as deep as he can. You eagerly swallow around him, taking down every single drop he has to offer. 

When he’s finally done, cock still twitching in sensitivity as he slowly softens, he pulls out. His cock was a mess, drool and cum still clinging to the skin in sticky strings. 

“Fuck,” he laughs breathlessly, “That little throat is dangerous.”

You giggle, biting your lip as he moves towards the window, sending a last look to your neighbors before drawing the curtains closed. End of the show, it seems.

You never thought about how you would feel when you’d have to face your two neighbors again. Given the fact they were actively in the military, you could go days before you caught sight of one of them again. Ever since Simon had started this little game of teasing the poor guys you hadn’t actually spoken to them face to face. 

“I invited Soap and Kyle over for dinner,” Simon muttered one late afternoon as he sipped on a cup of tea.

You nearly dropped the knife you were using to chop vegetables as you turned to look at your fiance in shock, “You what?!”

“Saw them while I was out on my mornin’ run,” he explained, taking a sip from his cup that was all too nonchalant for the utter anxiety that you felt, “Thought I’d be neighborly and invite them for dinner since we haven’t yet.”

“Simon!” you cry out indignantly, “How am I supposed to face them!?”

“What do you mean?” he asks, hiding his smile behind the cup.

“Th-They’ve watched us do all sorts of shit!” you whine, turning back around to anxiously cut the vegetables once again.

“So?” he hums, “We’re all adults. You think they can’t act normal just ‘cause they’ve seen you with a cock down your throat?”

You let out a frustrated sound, “You’re so-!”

“Relax, sweetheart,” he croons, placing his empty cup down, “It’ll be okay, I promise.”

You should have known better than to believe him. Simon seemingly couldn’t resist teasing the two men. As soon as all four of you were sitting at the table, you knew right away that this was not going to be the peaceful dinner you were hoping for. 

Kyle and Soap were painfully quiet, trying their best to keep their eyes off of you in fear of making your fiance angry. Simon was keenly aware of this and before any of you had a chance to finish your meals, he was pushing his chair back and pulling you from your own seat, your back pressed against his front.

“I think we all know what we want,” he sighs, “So why don’t we cut the shit and get on with it.”

Rough, experienced fingers slowly start undoing the buttons on your shirt. You had dressed up so nicely for your company and here he was, stripping it off of you in front of them instead. 

One by one the buttons came undone, your fiance giving you ample opportunity to stop him and back out should you decide this wasn’t something you wanted to do. But you never did.

Your breathing fastened and your heart raced in your chest at the excitement of the whole situation. Soap and Kyle sat in their seats, wide eyes following each methodical movement of your fiance until the final button was undone and they were able to see your bra. 

Kyle licked his lips at the sight of your breasts wrapped in the sheet material, giving just a hint at what was beneath. 

Soap follows Simon’s hand as it slides down your front to the button on your jeans. The button comes undone followed by your zipper, giving a little peak of the maroon colored panties you wore. 

“What do you think?” Simon asks them, nosing softly at your cheek until you let your head fall to the side, exposing your neck for him to kiss. 

“A fuckin’ dream,” Soap whispers, sounding like he’s in a daze. 

Kyle audibly gulps, too lost in a daze to say anything as his eyes practically burn holes into you. 

After pressing a kiss against your jaw, Simon finally slides the shirt off of your shoulders. The fabric flutters to the ground but you don’t have time to think about it before the clasp of your bra is undone and your bra joins it. 

Both men at the table inhale sharply at the sight of your bare breasts. 

“Prettier up close…” Kyle mutters, resting his chin on his hand, simply admiring the view before him. 

Simon takes a second to cup your tits, squeezing them in his rough hands before his thumbs hook under the band of your pants and tugs them down. You shimmy in place, helping him tug them over your hips until they pool on the ground and you can step out of them completely. 

“Steamin’ bloody Jesus,” Soap whispers, leaning even closer from where he sits, trying to get an even better view of you standing in just a pair of pretty, sheer maroon colored panties. 

“Aren’t they so lucky?” Simon coos in your ear, one hand slipping between your thighs to cup your clothed pussy while the other eagerly gropes your tits, “Gettin’ to see you like this when only I should get to.”

“Si…” you whimper, gripping his arm in your hands as he carefully strokes you through your panties. 

“What do you say, men?” Simon asks sharply, glaring at your two guests.

“Thank you, sir,” both of them say in unison without taking their eyes off of you. 

Simon hums, seemingly satisfied enough to slip your panties down so you’re completely bared – the only one naked in the room. It made your cheeks burn in humiliation but that humiliation only made your wetter. 

Simon’s fingers slid between your folds, a sticky noise accompanying the movement. You hear him suck in a breath when he feels your slick coating his fingers. You lift your leg and place it on the nearby chair, giving both men at the table a perfect view of your pretty cunt being spread by your fiance’s fingers. 

“There you go, lovie,” he coos, “Show them how wet you get for me.”

He slips his middle finger inside, letting it slowly sink in the final knuckle. Your lashes flutter at the feeling of being stretched but it’s not enough – one finger would never be enough when you’ve had his perfect cock inside you so many times before. So Simon quickly slides his ring finger in right alongside his middle and your head falls back against his shoulder. 

You practically forget about the two pairs of eyes on you when he crooks his fingers just right and grinds the tips against that gooey little spot that makes your thighs tremble. 

“Si!” you squeal, nails biting into his wrist as you grind your hips, humping your hardened clit against his palm. 

“Yeah?” he responds, tucking you firmly against him so he can fuck you properly with his fingers. 

You’re unable to stop the cries and sobs of pleasure as he brings you closer and closer to orgasm with every press of his fingers against your sweet spot and every slap of his palm against your clit. Drool drips down your chin as your whole body twitches, eyes rolling back in your head as the orgasm builds and builds. 

“Fuckin’ hell,” Kyle breathes, a trembling hand placed over his mouth in awe. 

Finally, your high washes over you and you slump forward, held up only by Simon’s strong arm grappled around you. Your knees tremble as Simon’s fingers continue to fuck you through it until you’re gushing in messy spurts all over his hand every time his fingers are stuffed back inside. It splatters to the floor and drips down your thighs, making your cheeks flush in embarrassment. 

Simon pulls his fingers out of the hot clutch of your cunt with a humiliatingly loud squelch before he pops the digits right into his mouth, humming at the taste of your cum on his tongue. 

He lifts your chin up and immediately plants his lips right on yours, letting you taste yourself on his tongue. You sigh into the kiss, cum-drunk brain getting lost in the familiar affection. You don’t even notice Simon undoing his jeans until you feel the hot, blunt head of his cock prodding your entrance. You whimper into his mouth when he simply ruts his hips, sliding the head back and forth, over your clit and back down – coating himself in the cum he had already fucked out of you with his fingers. 

“How are you boys enjoyin’ the show?” Simon asks, suddenly reminding you of their presence. 

You dazedly look at them, finding both of them sitting back in their chairs, stroking their cocks in the open. Soap’s got a thick, veiny cock that looks like it would make you cry if you tried to take it down your throat. Kyle, on the other hand, has a long, pretty cock adorned with a piercing on the tip that makes your cunt clench around nothing just imagining what it would feel like. Maybe you should ask Simon to get a piercing just to see.

“Fuckin’ incredible, sir,” Soap chokes out, squeezing his cock tight in his fist. 

Simon chuckles under his breath before his attention turns back to you, a well-practiced rut of his hips sinks the head of his cock into your warm, sticky cunt. Your mouth drops open at the feeling, eyes accidentally locking onto Kyle’s, who is watching you with a dark, focused gaze. 

You find yourself unable to break eye contact as your fiance slowly and carefully stretches you open on his cock until he finally sinks to the hilt, full balls sleeping against your clit. Your eyes roll back and you bite your lip to suppress the absolutely sinful sound that threatens to escape your lips. 

Simon groans at the feeling of being clutched so tightly by your precious cunt. Your hand comes down to circle your clit with desperate, shaky movements until you’re suddenly cumming around his cock.

“Shit!” Simon practically howls, blunt nails biting into your skin as he holds your twitching body against his through the sudden orgasm you’ve given yourself, “Cummin’ just from gettin’ my cock in you? So sweet, lovie.”

You whimper his name in a little hiccup, tearily looking up at him from where your head thumps back against his shoulder. The pathetic look in your eye is what prompts him to start moving – fat cock sliding out of you before a powerful roll of his hips ends it back deep. He prods your cervix in a way that makes pain mix deliciously with pleasure – an addictive feeling that only Simon could ever give you. 

His harsh thrusts jostle your entire body, your tits bouncing in time to the movement. You’re not able to keep quiet, every time he sinks deep, it punches a moan out from your lungs. His heavy, fat balls slap against you, only adding to the lewd sounds of squelching and moaning. 

Soap and Kyle continue to stroke their own cocks to the sight of your getting fucked. Leaking cocks squelching quietly in their own grips. 

“Shit…” Soap groans through his teeth, “Wish I could wrap my lips around that pretty clit, darlin’.”

You whimper, eyes rolling back at the very thought of having a tongue worshiping your neglected clit. With Simon’s cock stuffing you full, you know it would work the most magnificent orgasms out of you. 

As if sensing your greedy thoughts, Simon wraps a rough hand around your throat, forcing you to look up at him, “Felt that little cunt squeeze me when he said that. My cock not enough for you?”

“Y-You are!” you sob, tears filling your eyes from how he starts an even rougher pace, “J-Just wanna cum, Si!”

Your fiance scoffs at your words, harshly knocking your leg off of the chair that you had it propped up in. You cry out at  how the angle changes with his hand still wrapped around your throat, forcing you to arch your back to look up at him. His cock grinds incessantly against that gooey little spot that makes your entire body twitch every time he pounds against it. 

It’s even more difficult to keep yourself upright without the chair to help, both your knees are shaky and if Simon wasn’t holding you tight against his chest by your throat, you’d certainly be slumping to the floor. 

Simon’s hand tightens around your neck and it cuts off the noises that are escaping. Your vision fuzzes up as your orgasm builds and builds. 

“Si, Si, Si–” you choke out, drool dripping down your chin, “Please, I’m gonna cum, you’re gonna make me cum!”

“Course I am,” Simon snarls, letting his free hand drop to your clit, harshly slapping the little bud before rubbing soothing circles around it. 

That sends you over the edge, gushing all over him and down your thighs. You squeal, unable to do anything except hang on for the ride as Simon fucks you through your high until he reaches his own end – spilling his load inside you without a second thought. 

You’re left trembling and twitching, gasping and whimpering with tears dripping down your cheeks. Finally, Simon allows you to slump forward, your chest meeting the kitchen table as he pulls his softening cock from your dripping cunt. Sticky, thick strings of his cum connect to his length from your clenching pussy. He soothes his hand down the length of your spine, soothing the little trembles that still wrack your body as you come down. 

“Holy fuckin’ shit,” Soap pants, wiping his cum-covered hand off on his pants.

“You,” Kyle adds, “are one hell of a neighbor.”

property of rowarn. do not modify, translate, or report on other websites. reblogs OK!

[sweeetestcurse]

Captain John Price in Call of Duty: Modern Warfare 18/??

[sweeetestcurse]

Captain John Price in Call of Duty: Modern Warfare 15/??

[sweeetestcurse]

Captain John Price in Call of Duty: Modern Warfare 16/??

[mewmosh]

GhostSoapPrice <3

[oceantornadoo]

“captain john price. surely you’ve heard of him?” the secretary blinks at you, faking a smile. “oh, that john! and who are you?” you want to rip her lashes off one by one. “his wife.”

that gets her to stop blinking, to actually look at your ID. “your last name isn’t price.” the gall. “it’s the twenty first century, sweetheart. now check the list and let me through.” she diligently checks the list, nodding at the match. seemingly gone mute, she gestures at you to follow her as she walks down the base hallway, passing countless doors and plaques. she stops outside of his door, doe eyes locked on the name plaque. one knock, then two. “sir, there’s someone here for you. your wife.” a pause and then. “send ‘er in.”

she opens the door and gestures you in. you can’t help the smile that grows on your face as you take in the sight of your surly man, a cigar in hand as he overlooks paperwork. he looks up at the click clack of your heels with a smirk matching your own. dropping your bag on the nearby couch, you round the very large wooden desk to stand in between his legs, john already having turned to welcome you in. there’s just one thing missing. “you can go now.” you turn your head owl-like to meet the secretary’s eyes, noting the shock on her face. she closes her gaping mouth abruptly, then shuts the door with no further ceremony.

“wasn’t aware we got married.” you turn your attention back to john, whose hands are already trailing down your calves to take off your heels as you stand on his comfy office rug. you hum as he removes them one at a time, callused hands brushing the frail bone of your ankle, the arch of your foot. once that’s done, your hands slide into his beard on instinct, settling yourself in his wide lap and thanking the ikea gods he has a humongous chair. “your secretary is pushy.” he snorts, leaning a weathered cheek into your touch. “she’s new.” you cut him off with a kiss, lips brushing his like you’ve been wanting to for days. missing the feel of his skin, the scent of cedar and cigars, lonely and pining for him in bed.

“you haven’t been home in three days, johnathon.” the full name comes out when you’re mad or playing at it, a sly trick to make sure he doesn’t know which is which. unfortunately he can read you too well and ignores your schemes anyways. “mission’s movin’ fast, lovie. been only sleepin’ a couple hours here and there.” you steady yourself on his lap, pushing closer and closer until your pelvises meet. “where?” his eyes flick to the office couch and you hum.

“i’ve missed you.” it rushes out like a wave, too intimate to take back. you shouldn’t be showing your cards so soon but he smiles anyways, blue eyes gleaming. “that why you’re terrorizing the office staff?” you nod against him, too choked up for a proper answer. can’t describe how cold and desolate you are without him to warm you up, inside and out. “i’ve missed y’ too, sweetheart. your feelings aren’t too big f’ me, don’t worry.” he always gets you, unfortunately. you lay your head down on his heartbeat, purring as his hands caress your ass and thighs. “i’ve missed my big strong man taking me to bed.” you emphasize it with a hip roll, grinning at his groan.

“ yeah, baby? missed daddy treating you righ’?” you groan at his embarrassing words. “johnnn, you can’t just say shit like that.” he laughs again, beard brushing the top of your head. “can if it’s true.” you sigh, planting a kiss on his collarbone. “hav’ to get used to that talk if you want the wife excuse to be real one day.” you freeze at his words. surely not. but…maybe? you have to check. “your wife?” the hands that have been exploring pinch your ass, sending you further into his arms. “tha’ alright?” you contemplate it. mrs. price. nice ring to it. “yeah,” you nod, and that’s that.

—

slight misogynistic undertones at the bitchy secretary but it’s fiction oops

[gelik1x]

Morning