do y'all remember this "tapping out" tradition, I don't know if it's a thing in the British military, but if it would be. . . I can only imagine how a teammates girlfriend "taps out" ghost (just because he has no one coming to him) and he randomly decides that huh. she seems like the one.
can't stop thinking about if it was soap's girlfriend. she taps him out first, of course, thick arms wrapping around her waist and pulling her close for a messy, almost obnoxious cheek kiss that has her giggling and swatting at him, playfully chiding that he's going to mess up her makeup. and he sees simon there, staring ahead and knowing no one is coming for him. no one has before, so soap's always done it himself. but something's changed between the two of them, their bond growing deeper, so he whispers in her ear to tap him out, a grin on his lips as she does so. such a shy little thing, going up to this mountain of a man, almost shaking as she touches him feather-like, not wanting to startle or upset him. simon doesn't move for a moment and her heart drops to her stomach, thinking she's made a mistake. but he looks to soap, sees the glint of understanding and encouragement in his eyes, the slightest nod of his head before he, too, is moving to crush her into a hug, feeling the way she hugs back to him without hesitation. maybe this is what love is. maybe this is what he's been waiting for his entire life.
you’re in early, like always. lights on, coffee half-finished, cardigan sleeves pushed to your elbows as you tidy the desks just so. your sundress floats gently with each step—soft blue today, the one with the little flowers on the hem. the school hasn’t quite woken up yet. the hallway’s still quiet.
so when there’s a knock at your door, it startles you.
you turn—and there he is.
john price, standing in your doorway like he owns the place. cap low, beard trimmed, fatigues neat but somehow still menacing. he nods once, slow. confident.
“mornin’, love.”
you blink. smile automatically, polite.
“captain price. you’re early.”
“mm. wanted a look at the battlefield before the troops show up.”
he steps in without waiting for permission, eyes dragging across your classroom like he’s assessing a threat. your posters. your bookshelf. the string of fairy lights along the board. all of it feels suddenly... childish under his gaze.
“cosy,” he says, tone unreadable.
“i try to make it welcoming,” you murmur, shifting your clipboard to the other hand.
he steps closer. slow, measured. eyes on yours.
“bet they love you in here.”
you glance away. “the students?”
“mm,” he hums. “them too.”
you pretend not to hear the implication. instead, you start gathering the stack of forms from your desk, fussing with the edges to avoid looking at him too long.
“you’ll be speaking during second period. i’ll introduce you to my class before that, if that’s alright.”
“more than alright, sweetheart.”
he doesn’t move. doesn’t leave. just leans one hip against a desk and watches you work like he’s got all the time in the world.
“what do you teach again? history, was it?”
“yes.”
“so you tell ‘em the truth, do you? or just what’s in the books?”
you look up. his eyes are sharp, curious, but there’s a challenge there too.
“i tell them what matters,” you say quietly. “what they’re old enough to understand.”
he nods slowly. “fair enough. still think you’ve got your work cut out for you.”
“why’s that?”
he smirks. closer.
“‘cause you’re soft,” he says, like it’s a compliment. “kind. got that voice that makes people want to sit still and listen. but that don’t mean they will, yeah?”
you feel heat crawl up your neck. “i manage.”
“m’not sayin’ you don’t. just sayin’... wouldn’t last long on a base lookin’ like that.”
your breath catches. “like what?”
he shrugs, lazy. unconcerned.
“floaty dress. bare legs. that sweet little voice. no wonder the boys don’t give you trouble. probably all got bloody crushes.”
you stare at him.
he just grins.
before you can answer, the bell rings.
you’re saved. for now.
your students filter in, loud and chatty, and john shifts back into professional mode—if only barely. he stands by the board with his arms crossed, watching as you gently quiet the class.
“alright, everyone, we have a guest today,” you say, trying to keep your voice steady. “this is captain price. he’s here to speak about military recruitment.”
a few of the boys sit up straighter. one of the girls whispers something and giggles.
price gives you a nod, then scans the room.
“pleasure. won’t waste your time—unless you’re lookin’ to waste mine.”
the class actually listens. not out of respect, but curiosity. fear. maybe both.
you stand off to the side while he talks—sharp, clean delivery, his voice made for command. but every so often, his gaze flicks back to you. quick. deliberate.
and you feel it. like a brand, every time.
when the bell rings again, you thank him quietly. he waves off the compliment like it’s nothing. but then—then he lingers.
offers to help you tidy up. again.
and as you reach for a stray folder on the desk, his hand brushes your waist.
“steady there, love.”
you freeze.
his hand stays just a second too long.
“wouldn’t want you to twist an ankle in those little shoes, would we?”
you clear your throat. try to step away, but he’s already one step ahead, bending to grab the folder for you.
“s’nothing, sweetheart. happy to help.”
he hands it to you with a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes.
“i’ll be back next week. same class, yeah?”
you nod.
“good. maybe i’ll get a proper tour next time.”
and then he’s gone, just like that.
but you know—you know—this isn’t the last time you’ll see captain price in your classroom.
no spoilers, nsfw, mutual masturbation but reader isn’t aware, obsessed!mickey, kinda got carried away at the end lol, might be a bit ooc :(
Obsessed!Mickey Barnes sneaking into your room while you’re working to sniff your undies. He tells himself this is the last time, that he’ll stop after this, but he never does. The second your door slides shut behind him, he’s on his knees, rifling through your laundry, heart pounding in his chest. When he finds what he’s looking for, he brings it to his face immediately, inhaling like a man starved. It’s pathetic, but he needs it—needs you.
Obsessed!Mickey Barnes watching you like you’re the only thing that exists. It’s embarrassing how much he stares. He knows he shouldn’t, but he can’t stop himself. You could be doing anything—tying your hair up, chewing on your pen, stretching after a long day—and his mind takes it and runs wild. He memorises everything, every tiny detail, like his life depends on it.
Obsessed!Mickey Barnes jerking off to the thought of you every night. He tries not to. He swears he tries. But the second he’s alone in his bed, his hand is already slipping beneath the covers, stroking himself to the memory of the way you smiled at him that day, the way your fingers brushed against his when you handed him something. He bites his lip to keep from moaning your name, but sometimes he slips. He wants you so badly it hurts.
Obsessed!Mickey Barnes getting hard just from being too close to you. It’s humiliating. You’ll brush past him in the halls, and suddenly he has to think about something else—anything else—before it becomes obvious. He swears he isn’t some pervert, but his body betrays him every single time.
Obsessed!Mickey Barnes stealing little things from you just to feel close. Hair ties, pens, even the smallest scraps of paper with your handwriting on them—if it’s yours, he wants it. He keeps them hidden in his room, a little shrine of stolen pieces of you, pulling them out when he needs to feel closer.
Obsessed!Mickey Barnes dreaming about breaking the rules for you. Kenneth’s no-sex rule? He wants to follow it. Really, he does. But if you ever whispered, “No one has to know,” in that soft, teasing voice of yours, he wouldn’t hesitate. He’d break every rule, risk everything, just to have you.
Obsessed!Mickey Barnes hiding in your closet when you come home early from your shift. He wasn’t supposed to be there. He had just come to be close to you, to lie in your bed for a moment, to breathe you in. But when he heard the door open, panic set in. There was no time to escape, so he scrambled into your closet, heart hammering, praying you wouldn’t notice the way the door was slightly ajar.
Obsessed!Mickey Barnes who ends up watching you without meaning to. He swears he didn’t mean to see anything. He should have closed his eyes, should have turned his back away from the gap in the closet. But then you started touching yourself—right there, in your bed, technically in front of him, although completely unaware that he was hidden just feet away. His mouth went dry, his whole body frozen as he watched, mesmerized, unable to look away.
Obsessed!Mickey Barnes who can’t help but touch himself too. He tries to stay still, to stay quiet, but it’s too much. The way you whimper, the way your breath hitches—it’s torture. He palms himself through his pants, biting his lip so hard he almost draws blood. He knows it’s wrong, knows he shouldn’t, but the way you moan has him coming undone, desperate and aching for you in ways he can’t even describe.
Obsessed!Mickey Barnes hating himself for it but knows he’d do it again. When you finally sigh, when you finally relax, he’s still trembling in the dark, spent and ashamed but so, so addicted. He waits until you’re asleep before slipping out, forcing himself to pretend like it never happened. But deep down, he knows—if it ever happened again, if fate ever put him in that position once more—he wouldn’t hesitate to touch himself once more.
Summary: A little verbal slip-up leads to Wade going down on you. It's the only way to shut him up. (Female Reader)
Word Count: 1,092
Warnings: SMUT (Minors Do Not Interact). Explicit Sexual Content. Oral (Female Receiving). Sort Of Sub! Wade Wilson. No Y/N. No Deadpool and Wolverine Spoilers.
Crossposted on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/58067737
A/N: My friend I watched Deadpool and Wolverine in the cinema a few days ago and it re-awakened my crush on Deadpool. This is my first time writing a reader insert for Deadpool, please be nice. This contains NO SPOILERS.
“I could just eat you out.”
“Out?”
“I mean, eat you up. Sorry, verbal autocorrect.”
“No takebacks!”
That was what had led to this, had led to you leaning back on your sofa, legs spread with Wade kneeling between them, holding onto both your thighs as he kissed the insides of them, teasing you as he got closer and closer to where you wanted his mouth. When he once more stopped just short of your clit you groaned and gripped onto his shoulders.
“Stop teasing me, Wade.”
“Where’s the fun in that?” He grinned up at you before sinking his teeth into the flesh of your thigh, making you whimper quietly. “Now where’s that smart mouth you always like to run? Come on, speak up.”
“I run my mouth? Have you-- Have you listened to yourself lately?”
With that, you used the heel of your foot pressing into his upper back to bring him closer, releasing a sigh of relief when his mouth finally connected with your dripping folds. You watched him blink in surprise but then quickly, he shrugged his shoulders and ran his tongue up between your lips, making you gasp in pleasure.
“Finally!”
His small chuckle sent vibrations right through your core and you moaned out, legs clenching around his head as your nails dug into the flesh of his shoulders. “This is great. I’ve always loved tacos.”
“If-- If you call my pussy a-- a taco one more fucking time, I’ll kick you out.”
Wade pulled back at that, cocking his head to the side and giving you an affectionate grin. “And punish yourself? Please, don’t make me laugh. I get you so wet that the first few rows in the cinema will need a flash warning.”
“Do you ever shut up?”
“You could make me.”
With that, you used both the heel of your foot against his back and your hands to pull him back until his lower face was buried inside of you. And thankfully, he did shut up for more than five seconds in favour of properly eating you out, tongue lapping at your folds, fingers digging into your thighs and nose brushing against your clit. It didn’t take long for you to dissolve into a moaning mess under his ministrations, your nails leaving small crescent shapes in the flesh of his shoulders as your thighs clenched and quivered around him.
Every clench of your tighs around his head got a moan out of him that send vibrations right into your clit and you gasped out almost in unison with the noises he was making. When he moved on from lapping at you to gently wrapping his lips around your clit you let out a high-pitched whine, making his eyes widen. You didn’t know whether or not he knew this noise to be one of pleasure or if he thought he’d hurt you but you didn't care either way. Before he could pull back even an inch you stopped him.
“Don’t-- Don’t stop, please.”
That was all the encouragement he needed as he began his gentle suckling of your clit, his lips periodically parting to make way for his tongue so he could circle it around the small bud of nerves. Pleasure shot through your body and you all but choked Wade with your thighs which unsurprisingly made him even more eager in his ministrations. His lips moved along yours, tongue circling your clit and the obscene slurping noises he was making were pushing you closer and closer to the edge.
“Wade, so-- so close!”
You had expected him to say something because when had he ever not kept his mouth shut but he kept quiet, pressing his face further into your core with such vigor that it made your head spin at the sight alone. He was so eager, lapping at your folds, tongue switching between exploring your pussy and licking at your clit while his hands clutched at your thighs.
“Fuck, please don’t stop. You’re so good at this. So good, Wade.”
One of his hands left your tigh, disappearing down his body and you heard the noise of a zipper being undone but he didn’t say a word, mouth much too occupied. The other hand now also left your tigh and you gasped loudly in surprise when he plunged two of them into your pussy, scissoring them.
“Deeper, please. Almost there.” You gasped out as Wade put another finger inside of you, angling them in just the right way. “Fuck, you’re so good, Wade. So good.”
Another keening moan tore from Wade’s throat at your praise and that, combines with a particularly precise thrust of his fingers and his wet tongue pressing tightly against your clit made you stumble over the edge. Your orgasm ripped through you in waves, legs quivering, pussy clenching around Wade’s tongue and chest heaving. Vaguely, you registered him moaning against you, his eyes falling shut as he worked you through your orgasm.
When you eventually came down from your height and felt him still lapping at your pussy, you brought your foot off his back to use it to shove him off you, too sensitive to let him continue. With a kiss to your clit he relented, drawing back and resting his cheek against your tight as he grinned up at you, chin and lips glistening with your juices and eyes hooded with pleasure.
You sat with him for a few moments, hands behind your body and leaning back onto them, eyes locked with Wade’s as he stared up at you in utter adoration. The hand he’d previously had inside of you came down to wrap around your calf, fingers gently digging into your flesh. When he nuzzled against your thigh you moved one of your hands to his face, cupping his cheek and stroking your thumb over it. He released a soft sigh and turned his head to kiss your palm.
“Nothing to say, Merc with a Mouth?” You asked softly, getting a small chuckle out of him before you nodded your head toward where his other hand was still resting down his body and out of your sight. “Want me to return the favour?”
He shook his head, bringing up the hand so you could see that it was coated in his semen before he wiped it at his pants. “No need.”
“I keep forgetting how quickly eating pussy shuts you up.” You chuckled affectionately, still stroking his cheek gently. “I should ask you to do it more often.”
something about best friend simon not knowing any boundaries (or, deliberately bulldozing through boundaries)—
the way he’s the one who picks you up in the airport even though you and your boyfriend already made arrangements for the pick up, but simon just says he offered to take over because your parents needed help setting things up in their lake house and that your boyfriend offered to help them.
(simon made him offer to help. it’s hidden so well behind honest concern that your boyfriend didn’t notice that simon’s been pushing him into the role until simon's calling out his goodbye's, saying he's off to pick you up now.
"oh, i can-"
"don't sweat it, mate," simon replies with a pinched smile. "i'll drive carefully, promise. bring her back, all safe and lovely.")
you didn’t even know simon’s invited to the vacation, but you gladly murmured to him your thanks, too caught up in your exhaustion to notice the little mean grin that tugged his lips up.
you clamber to his rover messily, blinking slowly, and before you can reach over to buckle your seatbelt, simon leans over and does it for you.
"could've done it myself, y'know?" you whine.
"sure you can," he grunts as he pulls himself back to his seat. "not like y'were one blown wind away from keeling over, but sure."
you roll your eyes at him playfully before biting a giggle when he scrunches his nose at you in reply.
he takes the long route back.
"want anythin' to eat?" simon asks after a while.
"don't we—" you pause, yawning. "need to hurry back?"
"not really," he replies, eyes flicking to the side mirror before he rounds a sharp curve. your body jostles, falling to the side, slipping towards the gear, and simon's hand falls to your lap to steady you.
he doesn't remove it even when the road straightens.
"okay," you finally reply, tired eyes blinking at the size of his hand on your leg. "m'kinda hungry."
he huffs a fond laugh and says he knows a place close by.
it's a local burger joint, apparently known for their fries and milkshake. simon buys you one.
"aww," you croon, grabby hands pulling the cold cup closer to you. "thank you, si."
you two eat in his rover, too lazy to actually settle in the diner.
it's greasy and messy and delicious. simon says you look filthy, before reaching over to wipe the stray milkshake on the corner of your lips. you poke your tongue out to him in reply; he says to swallow that back in before he yanks it out.
you laugh, chucking a balled-up napkin towards him before jumping out of his SUV to run to the bathroom.
(you didn't notice the throngs of messages coming in from your boyfriend nor the way simon swiped your phone from your back pocket and kept it.
he remembers your passcode—still unchanged even after all these years—and reads the messages that your boyfriend sent.
he's asking if you've landed or if you and simon are on your way back. he says he also misses you dearly, and that he can't wait to finally be with you again.
simon deletes them all.)
the two of you return when it’s well into the night, and everyone's gone to sleep. you sigh, feeling the exhaustion hitting you harder now, and amble to your room where you know your boyfriend must be waiting for you, only to stop when simon holds your arm.
"wanna sleep with me?"
"what," you begin, turning your sleepy eyes up at him. "no that's alright. my boyfriend's—"
"asleep, already. probably got ordered 'round by your pa, huh?" he smiles, his thumb swiping along the side of your forearm. "y'might wake up the poor lad if you go there so why don't you sleep in my room just for tonight?"
simon's words wash over you and you know, somehow, there's something wrong with them, with him, but your mind is bogged down by your drowsiness. you can't rationalize what's going on, so you say yes.
that's all simon needed to pull you to his room and into his bed.
you slip out of your clothes, per simon's instructions—his words all muffled as you try to stay up awake—and slip into something loose and baggy—stretched in its overuse but so comfortable on your skin.
it's simon's shirt, you'll learn tomorrow, but for now, you drop to the bed, your eyes shut close, and fall in deep sleep.
the last thing you feel is the heavy dip on the mattress behind you before a thick arm is thrown over your side, pressing into the fat of your stomach to push you back and into simon's front.
limbs lay tangled together, breaths shared, and the summer heat buzzing as skin meets skin.
-
simon doesn't get any better after that. he gets so clingy, and intrudes in your space and forces your boyfriend out.
your boyfriend complained, of course he did, but what could you do? what could you say? simon's your childhood friend so there's nothing malicious between you two. there's nothing more into it.
he gave up fighting then, fists tucked close to his sides as you kissed his jaw and told him to trust you on your words.
but—
how can he calm down? how can he not burn in anger when he sees the way simon pulls you to his lap and you readily nuzzle close. granted it's all because the two of you are watching some game on your phone and the position must be the only way to watch it comfortably, whatever, but it rubs him so wrong how familiar you and simon fall into each other.
how can he not doubt your words when he catches simon's eyes narrowed at him in quiet delight, before deliberately curling his arm around your stomach, and throws the other one on your lap, so dangerously close to your crotch.
it's even worse when the family gathers to the lake, and you and simon are chasing each other, playfighting in front of everyone. simon picks you up with ease, big hands digging into the fat of your belly or your thighs or gripping your ass like simon's so intimately familiar with your body.
how can he not hate himself a little bit when he realizes that it was always you and simon. that that's the dynamic.
-
(and if simon successfully seduces you during this vacation, well—)
I'd like to imagine he's good in bed. I mean have you seen what this Fandom did to our boys??
But what he's even better with is the simple things. Since he's absolutely ass with his big boy words, I think he'd be great at subtle affection. Hand in your hair, on your hip, holding your hand.. You know, the good stuff.
Kisses on the temple when you can't figure out where you put your keys and you're freaking out because that meeting is in less than twenty but with that kiss they suddenly appeared on the kitchen counter.
Hands over the ears when overstimulated.
Hear me out okay??? From behind, he doesn't want to block your view but everything is too much and God your ears are ringing and shit can't that girl not chew so loudly—?
Oh but his hands have such a subtle pressure on your ears and it muffles the sound to a buzz and the warmth???
simon didn’t care about dying. if he was going to die one day by the barrel of a gun or the blade of a knife on the field, then he was going to do enjoy the finer things in life without much care for the toll it may take on his body — one of the finer things being smoking, of course.
a nice cigarette at the end of a long, dragging day was like a reward. the burning hiss of smoke filling his chest, the bitter taste of tobacco tainting his tastebuds, the swirls of billowing smoke polluting the air. it filled him with an ebb of warmth and poisoned his lungs an ugly black.
johnny always told him he needed to take it easy, take a step back. it wasn’t healthy, the packs of cigarettes that would litter his vest pockets or his sleeping quarters, and it would be the thing to kill him one day. and who wanted to be a kickass lieutenant, only to die from something so measly like a cigarette?
simon didn’t care either way.
at least, he didn’t care… until he got a pretty bird that wrinkled her nose up whenever he pulled out the little packet of cancer. he suddenly became hyper aware of your distaste, became a tad bit guilty when you’d tell him the effects smoking would have on him. it was like johnny but tenfold, and somehow, you saying it hit harder.
simon suddenly cared about dying.
the uncaring little part of him that used to tell him to live life how he wanted, that he was going to die at war anyway, was now having a change of heart, all because you wanted him to grow old with you.
he made the ultimate decision to quit. seeing you light up whenever you’d ask him did you smoke today? and he’d reply with no was worth the tough effort.
it was a lot more difficult than he thought it would be. of course, he’d done it for so long, his body was addicted to the nicotine. but he also was discovering that it wasn’t just that — he had a horrible oral fixation with cigarettes.
what better way to satiate the craving to have his mouth on something than to do so with his tongue on you every chance he got, eating you out like a starved man? he got to make his pretty bird cum, while he got his fix for the day. win win.
Feeling frustrated and in desperate need of support, you run to Ghost to let it all out.
A/N: Platonic fluff & the usual banter.
———————————————————————
“And then guess what he said to me!” you shout, turning to look at Ghost. You’d expect him to sit at the edge of his seat, ready to storm out and confront that jerk. But no. Instead, he is reclining in his office chair, swivelling left and right. He has dismantled a stapler during your rant and laid out each piece on the table, apart from the spring, which he twirls between his fingers.
“Are you even paying attention?” You ask, placing your hands on your hips.
“Sure,” he murmurs, even though his posture says otherwise. He closes one eye and peers through the spring with the other.
“Oh yeah?” You tilt your head. “What was I saying then?”
Ghost rolls his eyes, throws his head back, and sets the spring down among the other parts. He pulls his mask down, then adjusts it on his nose.
“On the day of the tactical training—which, according to you, shouldn’t be so close to the physical training because it makes your back hurt, and you don’t shut up about it—you were teamed up with Sergeant Dickinson,” he says with furrowed brows, “whom you refuse to address by his rank and call him what instead?”
“Shart-geant,” you reply, waving your hand. “But that’s irrelevant.”
“I disagree,” he says. “Wasn’t the surname ‘Dickinson’ enough to mess around with?”
“Nah,” you scoff, flicking your wrist. “Too easy.”
“Fair enough,” he nods and continues. “So, apparently, Sergeant Dickinson was a real asshole towards you, bossing you around and whatnot. At the end of your training, he supposedly said something that justifies you SWATing my office and disturbing my peace.”
He finishes his summary, leaving you staring at him with your hands still on your hips. “That’s correct,” you finally confirm.
He looks proud, almost too smug at your agreement. He picks up the spring again and continues playing with it. “Well, don’t leave me hanging,” he prompts, motioning for you to continue, “what did he say that was so terrible?”
“No!” You protest, pointing a finger at him. “No, you guess what that fucker told me.”
“Are we seriously doing this now?” He asks, amused.
“Yes,” you assert, nodding. “Yes, because, chances are, you won’t believe what he said.”
“Fair enough,” Ghost sighs, fully turning his attention to you. “Did he tell you to eat shit?”
“What?!” you ask, raising an eyebrow. “No!”
“How about calling you a horrible, uncooperative, egotistical teammate?”
“No, Ghost,” you shake your head. “As a matter of fact, I was the perfect teammate.”
“Oh, I know,” he says, pointing a finger. “How about—”
“Never mind,” you cut in, frustrated. “I’ll tell you what he said.”
“You sure?” He asks, his smugness returning. “Because I could keep guessing.”
“No, no, that’s enough.” You reply. “He told me to go fetch him the car.”
“Oh, wow,” he murmurs, leaning back on the chair. “Un-be-fucking-lievable.”
“Well, it’s not as dramatic as your guesses!” You exclaim, throwing your hands in the air. “Eat shit? Horrible teammate? Who says that?”
“Well, clearly not Dickinson,” he mutters.
You shoot him a side-eye, to which he responds by concealing the spring in the palm of his hand. There’s a hint of a smirk behind his balaclava.
“So you were bothered because you were asked to get the car.” He states.
“Fetch the car!” You shout, throwing your hands in the air. “Fetch! Like I’m some dog!”
“Are you a dog?” He asks deadpan.
“What a stupid question!” You shout again. “Of course I’m not!”
“Then why does it bother you that much?”
“Because it’s demeaning, Ghost!” you declare, pacing back and forth in front of his desk. “After everything in that training, all the crap he put me through, that’s how he dismisses me? Like I’m not worth his time?”
Ghost tilts his head, his eyes narrowing. The spring is now forgotten in his hand. “Is that how you feel when I shout at you to ‘shut the fuck up, stop acting like a baby, and bear the pain’ during physical training?”
You stop pacing and meet his gaze. “No,” you admit, shaking your head. “No, that’s differ—.”
“How?” Ghost interrupts sharply. “How is it different?”
“You outrank me,” you whisper, dropping your gaze.
“Dickinson outranks you too.” he points out.
“And he shouldn’t!” you shout, stepping forward and slamming your hands on Ghost’s desk. “I should’ve gotten that promotion! I was the one who deserved it, and you know it!”
“So it’s not about fetching cars,” Ghost says calmly. “It’s an ego thing.”
Your eyes widen. Your mouth opens slightly as you lean on the desk, towering over him. Ghost, on the other hand, remains unbothered.
“Are you gaslighting me, Lt.?” You whisper. “Someone treats me like a dog, then it’s suddenly my fault?”
Ghost avoids your question. He instead turns to look at you with eyes full of empathy. The first time in so long.
“We often ridicule what we secretly desire,” he says. “That’s why you mock his rank and not his name. It’s not Dickinson you have an issue with; it’s the fact that he has become a Sergeant instead of you. That’s what bothers you.”
“Th-that’s not true,” you whisper, turning away to hide your blush. “It’s about respect. About being treated like I matter. I don’t envy Dickinson or his stupid rank.”
There’s a soft chuckle behind you, and you turn to look at him. Ghost is shaking his head, his shoulders moving slightly up and down. He reaches into a drawer of his desk and retrieves an envelope.
“Why the laugh?” You ask, crossing your arms in front of your chest.
“You’re not envious, that I agree,” he says, pulling out a letter and pushing it towards you. “You are jealous.”
“I’m not jealous!” You exclaim, eyeing the piece of paper. “What’s this?”
“It’s a letter from your bestie,” Ghost replies, leaning back in his chair. “Just read it.”
You pick up the letter and unfold it. It’s from Dickinson, addressing Ghost. It reads:
Lieutenant Ghost,
I wanted to take a moment to commend Corporal Y/N for her outstanding performance during our recent tactical training exercises. She consistently demonstrated exemplary teamwork skills and a commitment to the success of our missions. Despite our challenges, Corporal Y/N remained composed under pressure and willing to assist her teammates in any way possible.
Her dedication to her duties and her team is commendable, and I believe she has the potential for leadership roles in the future. I have no doubt that she will continue to excel in her career.
Sincerely,
Sergeant Dickinson
You fold the letter back and place it on the desk, still looking at it. You scratch your cheek and run a hand through your hair.
“I received it on the day of the training. Dickinson wanted to ensure it found its way to your file.” Ghost says, his eyebrows shooting up. “What do you think about it?”
“A week hasn’t passed since his promotion, and he’s already signing as Sergeant?” You mock.
“You really are a bundle of joy, aren’t you?” Ghost scoffs, throwing his hands up. “And they say about me.”
“Why didn’t he just tell me this himself?” you ask, your eyes darting back and forth while trying to process everything.
“There are lots of reasons,” Ghost contemplates. “Maybe he has trouble with expressing things.”
“Are you projecting much, Lt.?”
“Maybe I am,” he shrugs, playing with the spring more uncomfortably than bored this time. “But I also think he is a show-off who likes to suck up to his higher-ups—”
“—hence addressing the letter to you,” you murmur, finishing his sentence. “Gosh, I feel like an idiot.”
“Don’t just feel like it,” he jokes. “Embrace it instead.”
You scoff and lean on his desk, messing up the stapler parts he so carefully placed on the table. He playfully swats your hand away and shows you the door.
“Now go, and stop being so whiny all the time,” he orders, holding up the spring and pressing it between his index finger and thumb. “It’s ok to stress, as long as you bounce back stronger, like this.”
POLY 141 reaction to when they are the biological father
poly 141 with pregnant reader if they are not the Dad
Price: He never thought he would be the dad. The doctors told him many years ago that he would never be able to have kids, so when you got pregnant, he was there for you but knew he would never be the biological father, and he was okay with it. When the baby was born and was hairy as a bear and had a dot on his nose just like John, he didn't believe it. He didn't want to raise his hopes. "It is Soap's, definitely." After a week, the paternity test came back, stating he is the father. John couldn't stop crying; he was the biological dad despite all the odds. He was the happiest man on earth.
Kyle: He held your hand while you gave birth, so concentrated on you that he didn't even look at the boy when he came out. When the nurse placed his boy on your chest with the remark "prettiest baby they have ever seen," he looked at the boy who looked like an exact copy of him, with beautiful amber eyes, his skin color, and already forming a charming smirk. It was over. "Just a pretty boy like his dad." The baby turned out to be like Kyle, and you were so proud of him. Gaz was such a wonderful father, treating every one of your kids, whether it's Simons, Johnnys, or Johns, as his own.
Soap: He knew it from the beginning. MacTavish genes are so strong, so he was always sure he was the dad. To cut him some slack, you and he had the most biological children together, three copies of Johnny, who made you rethink all of your life choices. It was a bad birth since the baby weighed already 10 pounds, a typical MacTavish baby. He started to cry when he saw the striking blue eyes. "You did such a good job, Bonnie, gave me a perfect bairn," he kissed you and the baby all over, apologizing to you about the birth, and overall became the perfect dad. And all the kids loved him, whether biological or not, so bad that you had four boys with mohawks all the time.
Ghost: He was more afraid to be the father than anything else. "What if I turn out just like my dad?" He didn't. He was one of the best dads you could ever imagine. When he looked the first time at the girl, he was 100% sure it was his. Blonde hair, pale skin, and already way too big, it was a Riley. He always held the baby on his bare chest, a thing he learned in all the books he read. Skin-to-skin is so important. He became the international best girl dad. This bulky man wore her pink backpack, made tea parties with your daughter, and overall was smitten. He loved all your children equally, but still, his little girl was his world.
Author's Note: All of them treat the children equally, whether they're biological or not, but it's still somehow something so deep for them when they see their mini-mes. You, on the other hand, are pissed how none of the children turn out to look like you despite being in labor for hours. "Not fair." "No more sex." "Go away, Johnny, with your fertile genes." "Mhm, Kyle and John can stay."
He sniffs the baby so much, to the point it makes Babygirl cry of discomfort. He loves the newborn smell, especially after a bath.
He will not co-sleep!!! Very anxious first time parent, he believes one of you will crush the baby, so he has a bassinet in your guy's room. No naps together, nothing.
Is a baby talker.
Don't hold his baby. (he's a baby hog)
Makes people wash their hands. all. the. time.
Simon being a parent to a toddler is so hectic because he will argue with a two year old.
Hates to see his daughter cry and will buy her anything she wants, and will do anything, because he hates to see her sad.
Simon loves to watch tv, and he makes the baby watch tv with him, she always falls asleep but he doesn't care.
Always hugging his babies, giving them kisses, patting their heads, he just loves his kids so much i'm gonna cry rn WAHHHHHHHHH
When you have your twin boys, Simon decides maybe he shouldn't be in the SAS anymore, he has babies he needs to come home to.
Twins look exactly like Simon it's creepy. Simon thinks it's hilarious, and tells the boys he made them in a military lab using his blood. He went too far one time and made them both cry because he said the government was looking for them.
His eldest is favorite, if he could shrink her and put her in his pocket and protect her from everything.. he would.
Will wrestle with his children, doesn't matter the age.
After the first, he wants at least five kids. You always say no.
When you were pregnant Simon always rubbed your belly at home, in public, where ever, the man loves a bump.
HOME VIDEOOOOSSS, birthdays, births, holidays, school plays, recitals, award ceremonies, sports. whatever it is he's there with a camera.
Takes little league football very seriously, and is having a deep ass conversation with the coach and assistant coach. This is children's football we're talking about, lay off the 4 year olds.
summary: Glimpses into your life as a housewife and free use toy for the 141 post-retirement. (Reader POV, second person)
cw: soft sex, half-drunk sex, light somnophilia, anal sex
note: last kinktober of the month! sorry i got off by a day at the end here, but i hope you guys have enjoyed everything so far :) btw this is less "free use" and more "sex with the 141 while living in domestic bliss"
Your days are filled with sex. Sex with all of your boys, in every position you can think of, in every room of the house they’d bought for the five of you after retiring.
You all split the chores evenly these days. No one does more than they’re more comfortable with, and you’ve all found your stride, something to give you purpose, after the rigidity of the military.
Gaz has taken to bee-keeping. As odd as it sounds, he’s got the patience for it, and he’s quite protective of his bees, even has nearly an entire library of books he’s taught himself with. Price helps him out by selling the honey he harvests, keeping track of his profits and managing the household’s finances.
Ghost hunts, spends his days out finding game to bring home, tracking herds and predators around your property. Johnny does a little of everything - fixes things when they break, chops firewood every morning, helps Simon skin his prey, tries to help Gaz and his bees.
And you take care of the house. You make the meals, clean up after everyone, and find yourself perfectly happy to keep your men fed and warm.
Your other chore is to bend over whenever they want. Well, bend into any position whenever they want, Ghost and Soap tend to enjoy getting a bit more creative. It’s not really much of a chore, considering how eager you are to do it.
It’s a great deal for you. Johnny and Kyle are always eager to get you off, and neither Simon nor Price is stingy with the orgasms these days either. You live your life floating between domestic labor and orgasms - not a bad existence, by your metric. You get to live without a care in the world, four men to take care of and four men to take care of you. It’s like a dream come true.
———————————————————————
You hum to yourself as you dance around the kitchen, wearing nothing but a frilly apron as you wait for your pancakes to cook. The small radio on the dining room table plays music from a local radio station, something cheery to start your day. It’s hard not to smile, with sunshine pouring in from the windows and a batch of fresh eggs to scramble on the stove.
Your small moment of bliss is interrupted by a pair of hands on your hips and a large body bracketing yours.
There isn’t even a moment of fear, you instinctually lean back into the man behind you. A moment later, a rough beard brushes over your cheek.
“Pancakes this mornin’?” Price asks, big paws resting on the softness of your hips.
“Hmm,” you hum, tilting your head to claim his lips. He sways the two of you back and forth slowly, to the beat of the song, and lets you take your time with him. “Blueberries in yours,” you tell him when you come up for a breath of air.
One hand shifts to your ass, the other to your stomach, and you feel him smile. “Thank you, love. Got time for a quick round before they burn?”
You mimic his smile, let him bend you over slowly. “You’re just in time, Captain, I haven’t cracked the eggs yet.”
“Perfect,” he purrs, pressing himself to your backside. He tucks his plaid pajama pants down a little, rubbing his warm morning wood against you. You fold your arms beneath your head, let your eyes drift closed as his fingers make quick work of getting you ready.
Moments later, the heavy length of his cock fills you slowly. You moan, shifting your legs a little bit wider as he massages your waist.
“There you go,” he sighs, bottoming out and grinding himself slowly inside of you. “Tight as always, perfect girl.”
You giggle a little drowsily, wiggling your hips against his. “Always for you, John.”
He sighs contentedly, pulling out slowly. “Don’t I know it.”
He fucks you slowly, a steady pace that drags against all your most sensitive parts on every thrust. John’s thick, and the stretch isn’t quite comfortable with no prep. But you’re still a little loose from your time with Soap and Gaz last night, so it’s far from painful to take him.
He hunches over you as he gets closer and closer to the edge, elbows resting on either side of you and breath ghosting across your nape.
“Aw,” you hear Soap say,voice rough from sleep as he steps into the kitchen. “I wanted first go today.”
“Early bird gets the worm, Johnny,” Gaz teases, settling into a chair in the little breakfast nook Simon had built soon after moving in. “You’re the one who stayed up so late with her last night.”
“Wasn’t just me, jackass, you’re the one who-”
“Boys,” Price grunts, hips slamming against yours, leaving you squirming beneath him. “Will you shut the fuck up while I’m balls deep in our girl?”
You can’t help but snort beneath him, pushing yourself up enough to arch your back further, stick your ass further out for him. “Ye-yeah, boys.”
“Hush,” Price scolds, one hand shifting to your neck where he forces you flat to the counter again. “‘M almost there…”
He groans lowly as he buries himself deep inside of you, pumping slowly as you tighten up, trying to milk him. “Fuck, feels good…”
You smile against your arms as the pleasure that had been building inside of you starts to dull to a simmer, something warm in the root of you.
Price pulls out only moments later, two thick fingers tucking into you to keep any of his come from dripping out. “Keep me safe inside you, pretty thing, c’mon. Clench down.”
You take a deep breath and try your best to listen, straightening up and doing your best to keep yourself from dripping down your thighs.
He turns you around, leaning you back against the counter and cupping your cheeks in his hands, tugging your face up to give you a soft kiss. “Thank you,” he whispers into your mouth, just quiet enough for you to hear.
“Of course.” You reach up to grab his wrists, holding him close. “Never gonna say no to you, John.”
The two of you linger in the moment, sunlight warming your skin as you breathe into each other.
It’s Soap that interrupts you, an intentionally obnoxious clearing of his throat nearly making you jump. “Any chance at coffee sometime today, bonnie?”
You huff a laugh into Price’s mouth, pushing him away and shooting a half-playful look to Johnny. “Can’t give me a minute of peace, can you?”
He smirks, “Nope.”
John scoffs as he pulls away, moving you with him and giving you a quick tap to the ass to send you over to the counter with the coffee machine. “Someone’s gotta teach you some patience, MacTavish.”
“If Ghost still hasn’t gotten it into him, no one is,” Gaz laughs, shifting enough for Price to join him on the bench.
“Who says I haven’t?” Ghost says, stepping from the hallway. He’s already got a cigarette lit between his lips, and you wave him away with a spatula.
“No!” You scold, trying to shoo him closer to the window. “No smoking in my house! You know I hate the smell.”
Ghost rolls his eyes good-naturedly but lets you herd him to the open window, resting a shoulder on the windowsill and blowing a mouthful of air. You hmph, satisfied, and move to flip the pancakes. “You’re not the one who has to get that smoke out of all the furniture, you know.”
Ghost sighs, but he’s dramatic enough about it for you to know that he’s intentionally exaggerating his annoyance. “Awful early for all that nagging, woman.”
You glare at him playfully, picking up an egg to crack. “Awful early for a cig, too.”
He huffs and you crack your egg, the kitchen shifting into a comfortable silence. You continue your humming as the song changes to something more upbeat, unable to keep a smile from your face.
———————————————————————
You’re half tipsy, giggling into Soap’s mouth as the two of you stumble into the house. You manage to trip over the lip of the entrance, and you yelp as you start to fall.
Johnny just barely manages to twist and catch the both of you in time, grunting loudly as he hits the ground. The breath is knocked from the both of you, and you lay there in the dark for a moment, still.
You’re giggling as soon as you can breathe again, unable to stay still with all the energy and wiggling against his chest. “Jo-Johnny!”
“What?” He pants, still not fully able to take a breath in. You can see the outline of a smile, though, and his hands come up to fully cup your ass. “You were the one taht tripped, lass!”
That only makes you laugh harder, kicking your feet against his shins. “I-I know!”
Now he laughs, a full-bellied sound that has you bouncing on his chest. He manages to push himself up so that you’re in his lap, and presses his mouth to yours without warning.
You make a high sound of surprise but quickly kiss him back, licking into his mouth when he parts his lips.
Your kiss is messy, both of you a little too drunk and a little too needy to bother for tact. Johnny’s softer than he usually is, all tongue and no teeth. You wrap your arms around his neck, shifting so your knees rest on either side of him and squeeze his hips.
“Need you,” he pants into your mouth, shifting you over him to start a slow grind. “Need to be inside you, bonnie.”
“Yeah, please,” you say, quickly dropping your hands to his belt and clumsily working at his belt. It takes several tries for you to get it undone, and both of you get more and more desperate. Your underwear get more and more damp as you work yourself over the rough denim of his jeans, your skirt rucked up around your hips as he palms at your ass.
“Come on,” he growls, landing a harsh slap against the meat of your thigh. You yelp at the sting, then giggle, and finally manage to get his belt loose, quickly tugging it off.
“There you go,” you mumble, throwing the belt to the side and hearing it slide against the hardwood. “C’mon, c’mon, need you now, Johnny.”
He nearly snarls into your mouth, jerking your panties to the side and stuffing two fingers into you with no warning. You jolt higher on your knees and moan, digging your nails into his shoulder.
“Sit still,” he growls, tugging you back down and scissoring his fingers quickly to spread you. He slips a third finger in easily, your cunt already slick and dripping for him. “Stop fuckin’- stop wigglin’ around.”
You can’t help but giggle again, pushing your smile against his lips and nipping at his chin. “Can’t hold me down, MacTavish?”
You feel him grin, growling playfully, and before you can keep prodding him he’s got you flipped onto the floor beneath him. You squeal when he somehow manages to keep his fingers inside of you, pushing deep as he pins you down. He tucks your knees higher, both of your legs resting on his shoulders.
“I’ll show you held down, lass,” he growls, smile just barely visible above you. “Want it rough, then?”
You bite back another laugh, pushing up just enough to bite his bottom lip and tug it down with you. “As rough as you’ve got, MacTavish.”
It works as the perfect taunt you’d meant it as, and he’s buried in your tight heat before you can try and push him any further. Your head falls back against the hardwood floor as his falls to your throat, both of you moaning loudly as his hips meet your thighs.
“Fuck,” he groans, teeth pressed against your throat. When you arch your neck even further, he bites into your flesh, sucking a hicky and making you ever wetter between the thighs. “Fuck.”
“She tight, Johnny?”
You both yelp at the sudden voice, Johnny jolting away from your neck and shifting inside of you, causing you both to melt again.
There, in the corner of the room, is Ghost. He’s smoking a cigarette by the window, illuminated only by the glow of his cigarette butt and the moon. You can’t quite see his expression, but you can just imagine the cocky smirk.
Johnny groans above you, sinking back down to press kisses along your throat and forcing your knees almost to the side of your head. “Scared the shit outta’ me, Ghost,” he sighs, pulling out just enough to give you a few tiny thrusts. You moan, letting yourself relax into the floor.
“Not surprised,” Ghost says, and you watch as he stubs out the cigarette and take a few steps to where the two of you are tangled in each other. “How much did you two have to drink?”
You laugh at the question, but it melts into a moan as Johnny starts to find a rhythm that works for both of you. Your knees nearly knock against your own face as he makes his way across your neck, leaving bruising kisses.
“Not-” you choke a bit on a particularly rough thrust, just barely managing to keep your eyes open and watch as Simon settles into an armchair. “Not that much.”
“Yeah,” Johnny pants, lifting himself up enough to look down at you. “How-how much’ve you had, L.t.?”
Ghost snorts, taking a swig from a beer bottle you hadn’t noticed before. “Less’n you two, I can tell that much.”
You and Johnny both snicker, half out of breath already, but none of you try and keep speaking as Johnny starts to really fuck into you, finding a perfect rhythm that’s just a little messier than usual, a little jerkier.
The two of you make no attempt to be quiet, moaning and whining loudly as you work to find that peak. Even with folded in half as you are, you try to push into him as much as you can to help him hit the perfect spot inside of you.
You nearly scream when he does, clenching down so tightly onto him that he’s forced to a still inside of you, his length throbbing in time with your heartbeat.
The world blurs around you as Johnny takes your lips again, pressing your tongues together in a slick slide as he batters inside of you.
“Clo-close,” you gasp, clawing down his shoulders. Your nails dig in enough through his shirt to have him moaning, arching further into your touch.
“Me too, bonnie.”
He shifts enough to lean his weight further onto your thighs, newly freed hand smoothing down your chest and stomach to work against your clit. You melt beneath him, muscles going loose as you turn into nothing but a limp doll for him to fuck.
Your eyes squeeze shut as your orgasm starts to overcome you, Johnny’s work against your clit and the hot length inside of you finally shoving you over the edge.
“Fuck- fuck!” Johnny nearly shouts above you, your orgasm triggering his own. You cling tight to him, dragging his body as close to you as possible while your muscles clench down around him. The two of you are nearly drooling in each other’s mouths, eager for as much physical touch as possible.
It feels like an impossible amount of time later when you hear Ghost crouch down next to you, see his shadow cast over both you and Johnny. “You two done, then?”
You feel Johnny huff where he’s leaned against your cheek, feel his smile grow against yours.
“Yeah, Si,” you say, squirming a bit beneath Johnny to try and get out from under him. “I think we’re done.”
Johnny gans a little but he obliges and shifts back enough for his softened cock to pull out of you. You both whine in sync at the separation, and he finally lets your legs fall to the ground, heels thudding against the floor.
Johnny rolls off of you, flopping to the floor next to you. “Carry us to bed, L.t.”
You giggle and blink up at Simon, softened from your orgasm and the lingering buzz from your night out. “Yeah, L.t.,” you lift your arms high, making grabby hands like a toddler. “Carry us to bed.”
Ghost snorts above you, but he still leans down and scoops you up beneath the knees and the back. You squeal when he hefts you over his shoulder into a fireman's carry. He ducks low again and you grasp onto the bottom of his sweatshirt, then giggle when Johnny flops bonelessly over Ghost’s other shoulder.
He carries the two of you effortlessly down the hall, and Johnny’s soft laugh joins yours - well, at least before you hear a muffled slap and he quiets himself/ Of course that only makes you laugh, earning you a spank of your own.
You’re dropped rather carelessly onto the massive mattress all five of you share these days, hand flopping against what you’re sure is Price’s chest as Ghost falls on top of Johnny where he’s dropped.
You hear a muffled oof! from next to you and curl into Price with a smile, tucking yourself close to his chest. He rumbles a low noise, instinctually tucking you close. You can hear Gaz getting annoyed with Ghost and Soap, feel him kicking at them to fight for his own spot on the mattress. You fall asleep with Ghost’s back to yours and Price’s chest to yours, surrounded by warmth.
———————————————————————
You groan into the sheets in frustration, fists clenched tight. “Simon, come on, please.”
He spanks you sharply, but the pain is hardly noticeable compared to the need you’re drowning in.
“Quiet,” he grunts, three fingers spreading your ass. “Need to stretch you out properly, don’t want any tears.”
You whine, arching your back and pushing your ass further into the air. “I’m ready, I promise, just need you inside. I’ve been stretched for the last ten minutes!”
“And you’ll get stretched for ten more if you don’t quit complaining.”
It’s almost impossible to bite back a complaint at that, but you manage to dull it down to just a near-painful eye roll. You try your best to stay still for him, stay patient, even as you feel like your pussy is dripping like a faucet.
Ghost has fucked you with far less prep than this, you know he’s just trying to be an asshole - no pun intended. You also know that the more you rush him, the slower he’ll go. So you force yourself a little looser, let your body sink more comfortably into the position he’s got you in.
It doesn’t make the wait any easier.
You’re not sure how long it’s really been when he finally deems you stretched enough, but he finally pulls his fingers free. You whimper at the cold dribble of lube as he spreads a bit more across your stretched hole, the slick sounds echoing in the room telling you he’s likely spreading it across himself too.
“Alright, love,” he says, notching himself at your back hole with both hands on your hips. “Loosen up for me now.”
The stretch is sinful as he finally gives you his cock, enough for you to feel the sting but not at a painful point. Your eyes roll back in pleasure instead of frustration, and your knees shift just a little wider to welcome him more fully into your body.
“Fuck, you feel good<’ he grunts, grip tightening on your hip.
On a normal night with Ghost, you’d expect minimal prep and long rounds of edging. He likes to keep you from coming for as long as possible, then coax an orgasm that feels earthshattering from you when he finally shoves you off that ledge. Either that, or he fucks you quick and dirty - in the yard outside, in the shower, in the middle of the night, really any time he feels like getting off. With you around, there’s no need to masturbate. That leaves you getting bent over and used at any time he feels the slightest urge to get off, but you couldn’t mind less.
Now, though, Ghost paces himself far more slowly than usual. His thrusts are long, bottoming out and pulling back until the head of his cock just barely breaches your hole. If you couldn’t feel the way his hands bruise your hips, you’d almost call his pace leisurely.
The two of you are near silent as he fucks you, content to fill the air with soft moans and the occasional whine instead of dirty talk. It feels nice, such slow sex with Simon. It’s a side of him he rarely lets you see, even now.
He knows you can’t come from anal alone, and is feeling generous enough to grab one of your hands and shift it down, telling you, “Rub your clit for me, love. Wanna feel you come.”
And, well, who are you to disobey?
You bring yourself to a slow, rolling orgasm with rhythmic circles against your clit, hips working against his even with his grip. You moan more loudly now, moith open and spit spreading across the pillow.
“Si-Simon,” you gasp. “Feels so good, so deep.”
“Yeah? Deep in your ass, huh, love?”
“Mhmm, mhmm. Can hardly br-breathe around you, Si.”
“I know, so big in your little hole. You’re taking me well, though, being such a good girl for me. Gonna - fuck, love - gonna make me come, give you a nice load then plug you up.”
“Yes, yes…”
“You want that? Want to be stuffed with my come? Keep me inside of you ‘til I say you can take the plug out?”
“Yes, I’ll keep it in for you, Si, be so good for you.”
“Oh, I know it, love. Always a good girl for me, most perfect girl… fuck, feel so good around me…”
He groans when he finally gets himself off, pulling you back onto his harsher thrusts and letting your channel squeeze the come from him. You rub your clit a few more times, ignoring the aftershocks in favor of forcing your muscles to milk him a bit.
When he finally pulls out, he tucks a good-sized plug into your loosened hole before any of his come can slip out. You shift from your knees to your stomach with a soft hum, tugging a pillow into your arms as your eyes drift shut.
“You stayin’ in here for a bit?” Ghost asks, brushing some of your hair away from your face and dipping down to press a dry kiss to your cheek.
“Hmm. Gonna take a nap before dinner.”
“Alright. Need any help tonight?”
“No,” you hum, curling deeper into the bedding. “You can set the table, if you really want.”
You hear him laugh as he pulls away, weight shifting off of the mattress. “I’ll leave that to Johnny, I think.”
A few moments later the door click softly shut behind him, and you float into a peaceful slumber while trying to half-plan dinner.
———————————————————————
You’re half-asleep when you feel someone shift in bed next to you, their body covering yours. There’s a distinct hardness against the small of your back, and you press back against him.
“Stay still,” you hear Gaz whisper in your ear as he urges you further onto your stomach. You hum a little in response as he settles over you, kneeing your thighs apart enough for him to rest between them. “Don’t wanna wake anyone else up, right sweetheart?”
You hum again in what’s probably supposed to be agreement, but is really just a half-asleep sound. You trust all your boys, though, so you’re perfectly content to let Kyle do whatever he wants.
You sleep naked these days, so it’s easy for him to spread your cheeks a bit, to rub at your folds. You’re still a little damp from the shower sex with Price you’d had right before bed, and Kyle doesn’t seem to think you need much more than that.
You’re almost asleep again when you feel the tip of his cock at your hole, and then the familiar weight of him entering you. It’s hard not to groan, especially when you’re so dazed, but you think you do a good job.
Well, until Kyle shushes you loudly, stuffing a few of his fingers into your mouth.
You make a small offended noise, but it shifts into a sound of pleasure when he sinks fully inside of you.
“Hush. Don’t wanna share you right now, just needed to feel you for a bit.”
You feel his hips shift against yours before he sort of falls to the side, taking you with him. You’re left spooning him, his cock buried deep inside of you and kept warm by your body.
He sighs, pleased, against your back and pulls his fingers from your mouth, letting his hand float down to rest on one of your breasts. He squeezes you for a few moments, but that only works you up more and has you squirming against him.
Kyle makes a small, whining noise and squeezes you more tightly to him. “Stay still, love. Just want to hold you, let you hold me. Go back to sleep, yeah?”
You sigh, debate trying to get him to finish what he started, but ultimately decide that it sounds like far too much work for your current state.
So instead you let yourself relax into Gaz, body quickly adjusting to the weight and stretch of him. It’s easier than you might’ve thought to doze off like that, held close to Kyle’s chest.
