Simon Riley is the kind of man who will be staring at his tray in the middle of the mess, poking at whatever slop they’ve been handed, and say something like “my wife used to make this. Hers was better” in this low, hollowed out voice that makes every man at the table go quiet and exchange a look.
Nobody says anything.
Oh, they’re all thinking. She’s gone, then.
He keeps a folded photo in his front breast pocket, worn soft at the creases from how many times he’s handled it. He doesn’t show anyone. He just takes it out sometimes and looks at it with this expression like he’s being slowly gutted and then puts it away again.
Half drunk at the pub between deployments, leaning heavy on the bar, he’ll say “I just miss her, s’all. Wish she was still here with me” and someone will quietly offer to get him another pint because what else do you say to a grieving man.
Whole time you’re at home perfectly fine, he just really fucking misses you.
smut !! p in v sex , public sex , degrading ( ish ) , 3rd party finding yall ! enjoy — <3
taking price and ghost fighting and running with it.
some stupid argument about john not following rules in their little tuesday off base bar games blossoming into two weeks worth of high level pettiness.
snide remarks, shoulder shoving, hell the only time they even looked at each other these days was when they were on the mats. knuckles red and angry as they tore at one another. pride too solid to shake.
which is how you landed beneath simon.
wobbling cries muffled by the thick of his glove. baby doll tee pulled over your swaying tits and showing off a glistening sweaty back to him.
"s-si'! hun—" you hiccup, words slurred beneath the fabric. back stinging with wicked pleasure as he bends you into a mean arch. he watches the fat of your ass ricket with every drive home of his hard pelvis.
"sh, lovie. can' let big man see us 'ere hm?" he grins, balaclava pulled over his nose. he licks a fat wet strip up your nape. groaning at the musky sent of sex that pours over the room. "fuckin, juusstt like tha',"
prices room.
atop prices desk.
without price.
he curves his hand around your right thigh, smacking harshly at the puffy skin of your ass. you squirm, nails digging into the wooden desk. moans only meeting his covering hand.
he dips his hand down to the slick cream mess between you two. stringy connections of cum pull taught each time he drags out all the way to his tip, just to shove all the way back in as he hauls you backwards and shoves his hips forwards. you scream, eyes white as you claw at the hand around your jaw.
he gathers the slick, white ring around his cock creating gummy noises he isnt bothered to muffle.
simon also knows important papers lay just beneath your rocking body. he rubs at your clit messily, juices soppy. you keen, stomach throbbing with the buldge he bullies into you. you smack at his hand, water brimming your tearline.
everything blurs hot for a second. the slamming of a door doesnt register past your clotted ears.
"wot the fuc—" price barges in. face hot with anger before his eyes slot to yours. he watches as shameful lust swirls in them before he flickers down to the wet connection between you and the lieutenant.
you whimper, would be more embarrassed if you hadnt fucked them both before.
simon plows into you feral, blunt covered nails digging into your cheek.
"gon' cum pretty girl? righ' on the old mans shite?" his fingers move from over your mouth to cupping your jaw firmly. moving your head to arch it back. eyes bearily finding him upside down.
he grins, eyes squinted in pure joy.
looking back up to price as he feels you tighten around him the most deliciously. browns burning with complete intention. youre lost, too worried about your impending explosion of a release to truly care as price watches you melt dumb.
he kisses your temple. feeling you muddle over.
babbles leave swollen lips and brows completely furrowed. "there! t-there, please si'! f-fuc—" with his mean pinch on your clit you choke on your moans, blanking as all crashes down on you.
nails dig into simons skin, blood prickling beneath. raspy screaming moan bouncing between both mens ears.
by the time you blink back to current reality, youre carefully laid over johns ruined desk. damp body smudging papers as they stick to your panting chest.
simon dutifully rubs your hips. smiling at john like the asshole he is.
How do the members of 141 handle reader with a high sex drive? Reader is insatiable. Can they keep up or do they tap out early? Do they beg for more or beg for rest?
requested by @/unknownbooklady
For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE
Task Force 141 x Reader
Content & Warnings (mdni): sexual content, oral sex, rough sex, swearing, established relationship, gn!reader
Word Count: 800
ao3 // main masterlist // imagines & what if masterlist
John Price
“Trying to kill me?” huffs John, chest heaving.
Sweat-slick and naked, John runs his palm over his face, fisting the hair at the top of his head. The man is exhausted, but you said over text that you wanted to breed him, and you’re not finished now that you’re home.
Head bobbing, you bring John back to aching hardness, relentless in your pursuit of having it off. There isn’t nearly enough of John’s cum in you. Fullness is the goal. To leave him empty and you stuffed to the brim.
With a wet pop, the head of his cock bounces from between your lips, pointing toward the ceiling. “John,” you sigh, dream-drenched and heavy. “You don’t need to do anything.”
Hands slide up his hairy chest. Come back down. Fingers running over thick muscles. You take your time, curling those fingers to lightly drag your nails over his skin. He inhales sharply, and you grin.
“Bloody hell,” he groans, hips lifting as you tease him with your tongue. “You’re insatiable.”
With a mischievous smile, you shift, giving John your back. Lifting your ass, you provide him with a clear of you sliding down on him before you start to bounce.
Kyle "Gaz" Garrick
The room smells of sweat and sex.
“I need a moment,” says Kyle, his breathing deep. “Shit. Give me a moment.”
Kyle holds you in his arms, face nuzzling the top of your head, his eyes closed as he attempts to steady himself. You, on the other hand, are perfectly fine. As Kyle contemplates life and his sanity, you play with his dick.
“If I recall,” you begin.
“Hush, you,” mutters Kyle.
“You said you could keep up with me.”
Kyle grunts, a sliver of annoyed defeat in it. “I did.”
Hand roaming down to cup his balls, you gently squeeze them. “Are you sure now?”
A long pause, and then Kyle finally speaks. “Don’t know if I can come again that fast.”
You shrug, snuggling closer. “Sure about that?” You bring your hand back to his dick. “Feels hard to me.”
Kyle snorts and gently grasps your wrist. You cease stroking him. “I’m serious, love. Might be done.”
Drawing your hand away, you bring it to rest on his chest, placing a soft kiss on Kyle’s cheekbone. “Tomorrow?”
Kyle’s arm tightens, bringing you in until you’re smushed. “Telling Price you’re putting me on the path to an early retirement.”
John "Soap" MacTavish
Fisting the base of Johnny’s cock, you give it a loving squeeze. A dribble of cum emerges from the tip, you suck it up greedily. And yet, you’re not finished. Hardly even started. Already you’re stroking him, teasing up that build until Johnny is rock-hard and throbbing.
“Oh, aye.” Johnny chuckles at your eagerness. “Want another round?”
You arch an eyebrow but don’t cease. “That a problem?”
Johnny shakes his head. Bringing his arms up, he tucks them under his head, a pleased smile forming on his lips. “No. Surprised is all.”
“Surprised?” you question, almost mocking. “Didn’t think I could fuck like this?”
Johnny snorts, clearly amused by the exchange. He’s trying to turn this around, to bring you to heel. Funny how he thinks you’ll take orders from him. A quick swirl of your tongue and the man is chocking.
“Talking about the stamina,” he manages, eyelids fluttering as you take more of him.
You head slowly ascends, lips suctioning until his eyes briefly roll back into his head. When the head of his cock pops out, you speak. “Is my stamina too much for you?”
Johnny’s gaze returns to your face. “Maybe. Won’t know unless we try.”
Simon "Ghost" Riley
Beneath you, the sofa shifts, imperceptibly moving with each hard thrust.
At your ear, is Simon’s voice, gruff and thick like he’s smoked too many cigarettes. “Think I can’t keep up?”
You know that tone. Simon uses it when you’re in trouble, or you’ve pushed him a bit too far and he drawn up a punishment. You hold your tongue. While you want to brat over this, to continuously poke at him, that’ll only take you further than you can go.
Simon doubles his efforts at your silence, fucking you harder. His fingers are in your mouth, cutting off your words anyway, though you could use your teeth. Simon’s brute strength severs your ability to do anything except take his cock.
“Always think you can out pace me, bird.”
He’s the one poking now, shifting the power to his hands, leaving you helpless. It’s always where you want to be with him, but the thrill is not knowing how much he’ll deal out.
Saliva pools around Simon’s fingers, dripping onto your lips and chin. Deep enough to stifle but not choke.
Simon lands a sharp slap to your ass. “This is mine. Always mine. You’ll be the one who tires.”
the nickname had started with simon first. passing you in the hallway, hand falling on your lower back as he squeezed past you, greeting you with a good morning and “s’cuse me sweetheart, just gettin’ past”
he’d say it when catching you working out in the gym, complimenting you on your form with a hidden “nice form, sweet girl, keep those legs apart”. somehow he’d find his way behind you, pressing his body against you. you never knew how he ended up there.
then it spread to soap, with a little more enthusiasm. greeting you in the hallways, calling the name out loud enough to get the attention of everyone. “what’s our sweet girl been up ta’?”, “anything new goin’ on, sweet girl?”
you couldn’t lie, it turned you the fuck on. especially when simon said it with his low voice, creeping up behind you and rasping it in your ear. soap almost made a humiliation ritual out of it, causing you to run to a private area to play with yourself— thinking of the two having their way with you, all while calling you “sweet girl”.
it was even worse when gaz got to it. he spoke it with such love, smiling with that natural charm he had. “hey there, sweet girl,” smirking as usual. during gun training one day he had your panties soaked from all the praising and pet-names. and you think he knew it.
price catching on is the cherry on the fucking cake. he just knows how to use it in a way that his boy’s don’t. “what’re ya’ doin’ there sweet girl?” “sure you can handle all that?” “need some help there, sweet thing?”
it got so bad you knew it had to be a running joke! something they were all in on. but it wasn’t, you really just were their sweet girl <3
i wrote this at like 3am bc i wanted to do some sfw stuff but ended up being SLIGHTLY smutty bc… phew. anyways !! asks are open !!
"Fuckin' hell, you're tight, Bonnie." Soap groans, sinking into your hole in one smooth motion.
You whimper around the cock stuffed down your throat. Ghost grunts in response, his hips twitching.
"Easy, Johnny. Poor thing'll end up chokin' on me." Ghost says, slowly fucking into your mouth.
It's all so much.
Soap's cock pounding into you, hitting those perfect spots with each pass.
Every one of Soap's thrusts forcing you further onto Ghost's cock, your nose being pressed against his balls.
You can feel Gaz toying with your nipples. You can tell it's him by the soft flicks.
Nikolai's sucking hickies into your hips and stomach, making you squirm even more on the cocks impaling you.
Ghost cums down your throat with a surprisingly high-pitched groan. He pulls out, wiping his tip on your lips to clean himself off.
"That's it." Ghost grunts, stepping back.
Gaz uses the opportunity to kiss you, practically licking Ghost's cum from your mouth. "Fuck, you taste good."
You whine, feeling Soap flood your hole with his cum. "Ah, oh fuck..."
Once Soap steps back, Nikolai's flipping you onto your front.
"Kyle, you get the front. I want the back, da?" Nikolai says, spreading your ass to watch Soap's cum dribble from your hole.
"Yes, sir." Kyle responds, moving your head to his lap, gripping your hair to push you down on his cock.
Nikolai doesn't warn you before he plunges into you. At least you've been pretty stretched out.
You cry out onto Gaz's cock. He tugs your hair harshly, thrusting up into your throat.
"Got a good mouth, yeah?" Ghost comments.
Gaz moans, "Fuck yeah."
Nikolai fucks into you like he hates you. The grip he has on your hips is bruising. Each thrust jolted you forward, choking you on Gaz's cock.
You come around Nikolai's cock, spasming and gagging. Gaz groans, forcing your head down to his pubic bone. Nikolai's cum joins Soap's.
"Alright, let 'em breathe, son." Price says, his hand on Gaz's shoulder.
Gaz and Nikolai leave you on the mattress, shivering with oversensitity. Price straddles your prone form, ignoring your whiny noises.
"It's okay, lovie. Just gonna make ya cum once more." Price shushes, easily sheathing his cock in your hole.
Price presses his chest right against your back, caging you against the bed. You whimper and sob into the sheets.
"Can't hear ya," Price grumbles, yanking your head back by your hair, "C'mon, moan pretty for us."
High-pitched squeals and moans force their way out of your throat with each thrust. Whenever Price decides you aren't being loud enough, he tugs on your hair, forcing your back into an arch.
You come again, shrieking and soaking the bedsheets. Price groans at the sudden tightness, pulling out to cover your ass in his come.
John Price is the man to help you stop from bouncing your leg when anxious. During a meeting, he notices your habit of bouncing your leg up and down, so he carefully glides his hand on your thigh to stop it from bouncing anymore and gives your thigh a little squeeze in reassurance.
Simon Riley is the type of man to help you to stop picking at your lips, either with your fingers or your teeth. He hates to see you make your lip bleed for a while so whenever you do, he grabs your hand and holds it. Telling you to not pick at your lips anymore because you're hurting yourself.
Johnny Mctavish is the guy who will stop you from fiddling with your fingers in nervousness, maybe when you're both at the bar. He notices right away. Your hands fiddling so he takes your hands and lets you fiddle with his own fingers, comparing it and getting you distracted from being nervous.
Kyle Garrick is the type of guy who will calm you down when he notices your anxiety spiking up, guiding you somewhere calm and private and playing with your hair. You love when he plays with your hair. His fingers slowly and carefully sliding in between your strands. Giving your scalp a little massage until you've calmed down.
No one can take you and Simon anywhere with them in public, you hear? Just inside jokes galore. It's you hitting him with the, "Hey there, handsome..." Simon just rolls his eyes in faux irritation and grumbles, "I'm married, sweetheart."
"So am I." Cue the snort, mortified stares from onlookers, and you laughing so hard, you're crying.
Next go round? "What's a pretty thing like you doing here?" "...Waiting on the missus, luv." "Oh. Wanna wait together?" Simon smirks, you guffaw, and you notice someone haul ass from your periphery.
But the crème de la crème? When one (or all) of the boys happens to be out with you two. "Haven't seen you around these parts before. Fancy a shag, gorgeous?" Simon goes, " 'm not that kind of bird, mate. Gotta ask my boyfriend." Kyle and Johnny are a good lot, playing along. Price has rolled his eyes so many times that they practically live in the back of his head at this point, and you can't help but feel sorry for the kindly old couple who heard it all. Poor bloke's eyes were wide as saucers, and his poor wife was clutching her pearls in shock.
