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random-thot-generator · 11 months

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Try a Little Tenderness

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Fem Reader

Summary: Simon has just returned home in the middle of the night from a mission in less than stellar condition. Understanding that he was in desperate need of some TLC, you put aside the ‘frenemy’ dynamic the two of you usually operate within to take care of him, instead. Your gentle ministrations elicit a reaction that neither of you expect, but perhaps have been yearning for all along.

Warnings: Language, explicit sexual content, touching of naughty bits - Simon gets a helping hand in the bath, fluff and feelings, no Y/N

(A/N: This is a thot connected to an idea I had for a series. Still not sure about the series, but what ev.

This is just me exploring the intimate relationship between the characters. It is minor smut compared to what I usually write, meant to be a vulnerable moment for Simon, and for reader as well. I dunno, I feel like a certain amount of trust needs to be established before Simon allows himself to be with someone in an intimate way.

For a little backstory, Reader is Simon’s housekeeper/roommate/frenemy. It’s been platonic up to this point, but there have been some charged moments leading up to this. This is the turning point in the relationship, the first time Simon allows himself to really indulge in reader’s attention and care. Reader and Simon have been living together for about a year by this point but have known each other for almost two. Simon’s pet name for reader is ‘Doll’; reader’s pet name for Simon is ‘Grumpy’.)

Word Count: 2777

It was almost midnight by the time Simon shuffled through his front door. He was dead on his feet, still wearing the same clothes he put on three days ago, covered in filth and stinking to high hell. He would normally have stayed on base, cleaned up, ate and retired to his quarters to rest, but for some reason, he’d texted you mid-flight to tell you he was on his way back. He hadn’t been expecting an immediate answer, but he got one.

[DOLL]: What’s ur ETA? I’ll wait up 4 u. Have u eaten?

Simon had hovered over his phone, glancing about the plane, not sure how to respond. He supposed he didn’t have to stay on base. He’d just never had a reason to return home before. He knew he should tell you not to wait up, to go to bed, that he would see you tomorrow, but instead he found himself tapping out a different message.

[GRUMPY]: Landing in twenty. Be home approx 2hrs.

[DOLL]: I’ll be waiting. C u soon.

He re-read the message several times. ‘I’ll be waiting.’ This was new for him, having someone to go home to, having someone there expecting him, waiting up to see him. Sure, he had come home to you before, but not like this. This was... premeditated.

As he closed the door behind him and locked it, he heard your feet padding through the sitting room and turned. He couldn’t help the smile that spread under the balaclava when he saw you. You were dressed in one of his old T-shirts, a pair of flannel sleep shorts peeking out beneath the hem, and a pair of those ugly fuzzy socks on your feet. Your hair was loose and hanging down your back, not quite dry yet from an earlier shower, and your face was free of makeup. He liked seeing you like this better than any other way.

You were looking at him in that direct way that always got to him, assessing him, checking him over. He waited for one of your customary snarky greetings, but instead your brows furrowed.

“You look exhausted, Si. C’mere. Sit down,” you instructed, pointing at the entryway bench. Simon didn’t even hesitate, just did as he was told. He watched you kneel before him and start unlacing his boots.

“Ya don’t got t’do that, Doll. I can―“

“Si, hush,” you murmured, your voice soft and gentle. “I got this, okay? You’re home. Relax.”

He didn’t have it in him to argue, so let you have your way. You removed his boots and stuck them under the bench by his trainers, then stood and held your hand out. “C’mon. You need a bath.”

He let you lead him up the stairs, but instead of taking him to his ensuite bathroom, you led him down the hallway to the bathroom that you used. You motioned for him to sit down on the toilet while you stoppered the tub and turned on the taps. He watched with curiosity as you opened the cabinet below the sink, taking out a glass jar filled with some sort of pinkish granules, sprinkling a generous portion of it into the filling tub.

“Wha’s that?”

“Epsom salts with lavender and eucalyptus. It’ll help ease your sore muscles,” you told him, replacing the jar in the cabinet. You turned to look him over again. “Let’s get you out of those dirty clothes. I’ll get you some clean ones once you’re in the bath. C’mon. Arms up.”

Simon thought about objecting. He was a grown man, he could undress himself, but as soon as he felt your hands on him, all complaints went right out the window. He held his arms out so you could pull the tail of his shirt out of the waistband of his jeans, shivering when he felt your fingers graze his lats as you peeled it up and over his head.

“I smell like shite,” he grumbled, embarrassed for you to be this close to him when he was in such a disgusting state.

You huffed, the sound low and amused. “You smell like a soldier who just got back from deployment. Believe me, I’ve smelled worse.” You motioned for him to stand again. Once he regained his feet, your hands went to his waist, undoing the belt and pulling it free, then you undid the button and fly of his jeans. You pushed them down until they bunched around his knees, then instructed him to lean on you while you tugged them off his legs.

And he just... let you. He had not had anyone care for him like this since his last stint in the medical bay, and that had been a male nurse with hands rougher than his own. He’d not had a woman care for him like this since he was a small boy, when his mother would get him ready for his bath. He felt his chest constrict, almost told you to stop, but your hand on the back of his calf silenced him.

“Foot up,” you said, letting him lean on you again as you stripped off first one sock and then the other. Once you straightened, you placed a hand at the small of his back and gave him a gentle push towards the tub. “I’ll go get you some clean clothes while you get in,” you said, then stooped to gather up his dirty things. “Be back in a minute.”

You left him staring after you, disappearing down the hallway. He turned back to the tub, eyeing the hot water lapping at the sides. Aromatic steam rose from its surface, too tempting to ignore. Pushing his underwear off his hips, he let them drop on the floor and stepped out of them, then climbed into the tub.

He groaned long and low as the hot water enveloped him, certain he had never felt anything better in his whole life. Closing his eyes, he dropped his head back on the edge, only then realizing that he still had on his balaclava. He hesitated for a moment, then reached up and pulled it off as well, dropping the dirty hood on top of his underwear. Fuck it. You’d seen his face before and hadn’t made a big deal out of it, didn’t even comment on it, really, just took it in stride like you did everything else.

He cracked an eye open when you re-entered the room, watching as you placed his clean clothes on the counter next to the sink. You opened another cabinet and removed some towels and a washcloth, glanced over at him, then opened a drawer and took out what looked like a pack of wipes and a squat, plastic jar with a pink lid. You brought it all to the tub with you and knelt by the side, near his head. You held up the pack of wipes and pointed at the black paint around his eyes.

“Figured these would help take that gunk off. I’ve got some cold cream, too. Can I...”

You wanted to touch his face. His mouth dropped open to say no, but then he closed it and swallowed. You were looking right at him, a normal expression on your face, not flinching away or averting your eyes. If it didn’t bother you, then he would allow it. For now. He gave a slow nod of assent.

You opened the pack of wipes and set them beside you, then opened the cold cream. “Lean your head back and close your eyes for me.”

Simon did as he was told, though his brain was sounding a klaxon alarm in his head. He was exposing his throat to someone, was closing his eyes and leaving himself vulnerable to your mercy. Did you see how tense he was? Could you see the muscles spasming as he fought not to move, to push you away, to fend you off like an enemy? Did you understand what this was doing to him right now?

Apparently, you did, at least to some extent.

“Okay, Si. I’m going to put this cream around your eyes. It will feel cold, so don’t freak out. If you need to stop, just say the word. Alright?”

“Yeah,” he croaked out, waiting, steeling himself for the contact.

The first touch had him flinching, but he forced himself to remain still as you spread the cream around his eyes, working it in with your fingers in small circular motions. When you finished, you set the jar down and picked up the wipes. “I’m gonna clean all this off with these wipes. They’ll feel cold, too.”

This time, he only nodded, more relaxed now. Your touch had been soothing once he’d gotten used to it. It was... nice. He didn’t even twitch an eyelash when he felt the cool pressure of your fingers against his jaw, letting you tilt his head towards you. Your other hand began wiping gently at his face with one of the wipes. They smelled slightly floral, similar to the cold cream; he liked it.

It took several minutes to clean his face, neither of you saying anything. You were patient and methodical, cleaning away all the paint until none of it remained.

“Okay. Done with that,” you murmured, fingers moving from his face to his hair. “I’m going to wash your hair next, okay?”

“Hm,” he hummed in consent, not even bothering to open his eyes.

You wet his hair and then poured shampoo into your palm, working your hands together before placing them on his head. As your fingers curled and began to work his hair into a lather, Simon couldn’t help the low groan that rumbled out. It felt like heaven, the way your fingers massaged his scalp and neck. He could have whined when you stopped, but his breath hitched when he felt your fingertips under his chin, tilting his head back.

“Just need to rinse your hair, Grumpy. Keep your eyes closed.”

Again, he did as you instructed, not offering so much as a grunt of complaint when you rinsed his hair and then used the washcloth to dry his face. You raked your fingers through his hair, noting how choppy and uneven it was. Maybe he’d let you cut it some time, but for now, you would stick to what you knew he would allow.

“How ‘bout I wash your back for you and then I’ll go downstairs and make you something to eat while you finish your bath?”

He blinked his eyes open and stared at you. The steam and trapped heat from the bath were making you sweat, a light sheen making your skin gleam in the warm light. He had the sudden urge to run his thumb up your throat, collect the moisture beading there and taste it. He felt his cock give a twitch of interest below the water and brought his bent knees closer together. Grasping the edges of the tub, he pulled himself in to a sitting position, back bowed towards you.

Pleased to see him so cooperative, you dunked the washcloth in the water and grabbed your body wash, squirting out a couple of dollops. Working the cloth in your hands until you had a good lather, you rested one hand on his shoulder and used the other to slowly scrub the cloth over his back in large circles. You could feel the tension easing out of his shoulders, watched his head tip forward until he finally crossed his forearms on his knees and rested his forehead against them.

When you were done with his back, you didn’t stop, moving up to his shoulders and then down his arm. He leaned back, studying the way you washed each finger, working the cloth between them. You glanced up at him. “Other arm?”

He twisted around and held his arm out to you, resting his wrist on the edge of the tub. You washed it with as much care as you had the other, leaning over the tub to reach his underarm. When you went to slide the cloth away, he caught your wrist and pulled it to the center of his chest. He then closed his eyes and leaned back, letting his head rest against the edge again.

Slow circles worked the lathered cloth over his broad chest and collarbones, and you smiled when he tipped his chin up to let you wash his neck. A soft breath hissed between his lips as your hand dipped below the water’s surface to wash his sides and stomach, his brows ticking together when you brought the cloth back up. He shifted, his knees going wide to lean against the sides of the tub.

You were beginning to feel heat simmering in your lower belly that sent a blush creeping up your neck. “Do, uh... I can wash your legs next. If you like.”

He caught your hand in his, eyes still closed, and pushed it beneath the water again. “Wash here,” he replied, his voice like gravel in his throat.

You held your breath as he guided your hand down to his cock, let him wrap your fingers around its swollen girth and hold them there. His chest was rising and falling, chin tipping forward to rest on it when he felt you grip him tighter. Your lips parted as you gave him a tentative stroke, your breath puffing out in little pants as you watched him let out a shuddering breath, his eyes rolling open to reveal a lust-dazed expression before sliding closed again.

Your hand slid up and down his shaft in slow, even strokes, working him gradually, wanting him to enjoy what you were doing to him. His pleasure incited your own, and you could feel your panties grow damp with your arousal as you watched him slowly fall apart. He was panting now, head lolling back once more, hooded, hazy eyes staring up at the ceiling, his knuckles going white as they gripped the edge of the tub.

Your thighs squeezed together when a wrecked moan tore from his lips as you worked at him beneath the cloudy water, wishing it was clear enough for you to see him as well as feel him. Your tongue darted out to wet your lips, the feel of his hot length pulsing in your hand almost too much to bear.

“Ah, fuck...” he huffed out, his back beginning to curl forward. He lifted his eyes to yours, mouth open and panting, a look of near desperation on his face. His hand came up to grip the nape of your neck, drawing you close until his forehead rested against yours, holding your gaze. His nose brushed against yours in an intimate caress, lips almost touching, the two of you sharing the same air. “Don’t stop,” he husked out.

The speed of your strokes increased, your hand slipping up to focus on the head, making his knees draw up as he tensed. You could feel him swelling in your hand, growing bigger and harder as he neared his release. His eyes grew wide, mouth falling open as his jaw went slack.

“It’s okay, Simon,” you whispered to him, “I got you,” and that was all the prompting he needed.

His grip turned into a vice on the nape of your neck as he erupted beneath the surface of the water, and he growled against your mouth, teeth gritting into a snarl as he pulsed in your hand. You didn’t stop stroking him until his eyes closed and grip loosened on your neck, his breaths puffing out in exerted gasps over your lips.

You let him rest against you, not bothering to move or say anything, wanting him to have this quiet moment, to just relax in the knowledge that he was home and safe, that you were here for him. You closed your eyes and let yourself enjoy the moment as well, relishing the quiet, the peace.

Simon’s eyes flickered open, not sure what to expect, only to find your eyes closed, lashes shadowing your cheeks, a gentle smile on your face. You looked so calm, so at peace. You looked... content.

You blinked your eyes open, startled, when you felt the hesitant press of his lips against yours, but you didn’t shy away, instead letting him feel you smile against his lips before you tenderly kissed him back.

#simon ghost riley x fem reader #cod ghost x fem reader #simon riley x fem reader #ghost x fem reader #simon ghost riley x reader #cod ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #cod ghost smut #cod fanfic #cod mw2 smut #cod mw2 fanfic #soft smut

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trashland-llamas · 1 year

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Tangled Bedsheets

p/s/s—preferred streaming service/site; Netflix, Youtube, Hulu, etc

Fem reader

Ghost was simply trying to help. Not aware that he was poking at some of y/n’s previous trauma. She hadn’t realized how difficult it’d be to get used to sharing her space with someone else. While wary, she agreed to helping Simon make the bed. A task that was basically automatic for Ghost, an act he passed by quickly without any embellishments. Now he had to deal with fluffy blankets and throw pillows. ‘Any good shows on p/s/s?’ He asked as he gently took the mattress cover from y/n’s hands.

Mattress sheet—fitted sheet—blanket. Just like the first, he kept taking the items, assuming that they’d created an assembly line of sorts. But Ghost noticed, it was like day and night. They’d never had problems completing chores together. Dinner—laundry—gathering the trash. All of it went without a hitch, hell, most of the time there’d be conversation or music flowing through the halls. Usually her favorite music artist or genre, playing whatever song was stuck in her head at least three times. The rare times he’ll let himself goof off and get off task because he felt that comfortable, that safe. But this, it was as if he was interacting with a mirrored version of himself. The shortness of her responses, she sounded so snippy. So unlike herself. Slowly piecing together that she was stuck inside her mind when he noticed the glazed over look in her eyes.

Grabbing her hands, Ghost decided the task could take a rain check. That they needed to pause as Simon needed to know what she was thinking. Sitting down on the bed sans decorations, ‘Hey, what’s going on in that pretty head of yours?’ Wiping away the tears. Ghost hated how red her eyes were, how irritated they were. ‘I don’t know how to say it without sounding like—it’s not important.’

‘That’s okay, I’m listening. If it’s bothering you this badly, then it’s obviously important.’ Removing his balaclava as an attempt to calm her nerves. Whatever it was, it wasn’t the time to be intimidating. She needed Simon, not Ghost. Her roommate, not the calculated lieutenant.

‘When I was a kid, my parents would always yell at me when it came to my room. Hell, my dad would say it looks like a bomb went off,’ Y/n reached for her childhood stuffie, hugging it close to her chest. ‘my mom once made me stay up until the bed was made. It wasn’t that I was refusing to, I just didn’t know how. I didn’t know how to put a fitted sheet on and whenever I asked, she’d do it for me.’ While Simon didn’t exactly comprehend it all, he sympathized. While it truly seemed like nothing, there’s things that one simply never forgets. No matter how hard they tried. No matter how fast they ran and he knew that well. ‘I thought I could let you help, I did. But I got frustrated and then bottle it all up.’ Hyper-independence, it was a trait he’d seen in her before.

‘That’s okay, would it do good if I stepped out and let you finish this on your own?’ Mirroring the way y/n comforted him. ‘I think so, yea.’ Leaving the room, Simon decided to make them both a cup of tea.

‘Thanks.’

‘It was the least I could do.’

#call of duty #cod x reader #x fem reader #x female reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley x fem reader #cod ghost x reader #cod ghost x fem reader #ghost x reader #ghost x fem reader

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naivegh0ul · 6 months

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Thinking about Ghost helping you out when your breastmilk is clogged 🥴

I mean, he was totally obsessed with your chest before the baby, before you were even pregnant, but now? With your tits all swollen with milk, your nipples puffy constantly? Oh, he's completely crazy for you.

He'd be a little jealous of the baby. They get to have their lips on your pretty tits all the time, why can't he? He almost creams his pants just from you asking him all shyly to help you with your milk because it's backed up and you're sore.

You're not getting him off you after that. His head is constantly under your shirt, lips wrapped around your nipple and his hand pawing at your tits, squeezing and squishing them lightly as he tries to coax the milk out, hoping and praying that he'll get to taste some.

He'd slobber all over your chest, saliva spilling down as he moans and sucks roughly on your perky, sensitive nipples.

"Mmh, come on, sweetheart. Let me taste it, be a good girl." He'd mumble, letting out a loud, lust-filled groan as he felt a small but steady trickle of your milk spilling into his mouth.

"That's a good girl. So good f'r me. Perfect."

#fem reader #dad!ghost #ghost cod #ghost #simon ghost riley #simon riley #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost x female reader #simon riley x female reader #ghost smut

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chaosandmarigolds · 22 days

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My fav genre of Simon Riley is the: can't flirt for shit version, where he' gets flustered or just...not comprehending

ie:

"You know....we go could go back to my place."

"We live together. Obviously we're going back home."

"Simon-oh my god just go with it."

"....Sorry, I mean I would love to go back to my home where my bed is and go watch tv on my telly and in my living room-"

"no, no, no it's- no, stop."

---

"Oooo, look at you...my handsome man, my beautiful boy, oh...i love you so much."

...

"Simon?"

....

"baby are you breathing?"

quite literally squeaking, "Thank you."

#simon ghost riley #simon riley fanfic #ghost x you #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x you #cod fluff #simon riley imagine #simon ghost x reader #cod x you #simon riley x reader #cod ghost #cod imagine #coco's chaos <3 #xfem!reader #x female reader #x fem!reader

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ave661 · 1 month

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#fun fact this was my 1st version for Ghost for v day series #simon riley x reader #simon riley x fem #simon ghost riley #simon riley #call of duty #cod #mw2 #cod mw2 #mw3 #cod mw3 #modern warfare 2 #661ave

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yawnderu · 5 months

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''You're such a fucking asshole and—'' Your words are interrupted by a whiny moan when Keegan starts to thrust up, not letting you get distracted by anything despite your rant.

''Yeah? Keep going, baby. Ride this fucking cock.'' You do as he says, getting on your feet to be able to ride him harder and deeper, the tip of his cock hitting your spongy cervix every single time he goes all the way in. One of your hands is on his hard chest for support, while the other one is holding his jaw, keeping his mouth open to hear the downright lewd groans leaving his lips.

''And... annoying. Cocky. Arrogant—'' Each insult is punctuated by you dropping on his cock, walls tightening up even more when you feel him throbbing inside you.

''Horrible.'' You keep ranting about him despite how good he feels inside you, despite the way his fat cock has your lips gripping on him for dear life. He is all of those things and more, but the tension that has been building up to this day was impossible to ignore. You're impaling yourself down on his cock and he's letting you, mouth open slightly ajar and eyes rolling to the back of his head.

''Fuck— yeah?'' He finds the energy to speak despite the way you're destroying his cock, not even thrusting up anymore and simply letting you do all the work. His hand trails up your spine, grasping at the hair on the back of your neck and keeping your head in place, letting you ride his cock despite his rough hold.

His hand lets go only to slap your face, making you ride faster despite the stinging pain. What a fucking asshole. It doesn't take long for you to return the favor, hand coming up to slap the annoying smirk off of his face— and it works shortly, he looks shocked at getting slapped back, yet pure amusement is soon written all over his annoyingly handsome face, seeing it as a challenge.

You know you fucked up when his calloused hands grasp your waist, holding you in place before using his strength to switch positions, now on top of you. His cock thrusts even deeper like this, hitting your cervix over and over at an almost punishing pace.

''Acting like a fucking bitch all day—'' He groans out, words interrupted by the sharp hiss leaving his lips at the way your pussy tightens more around his cock. He looks down at your lips, leaning closer while managing to keep his brutal thrusts.

''Open that fucking mouth, baby.'' You obey, too fucked out to even think much about it. You're barely able to register the way he spits into your mouth before kissing you, tongues wrapping around the other in a disgusting mess of spit. His hand comes up to grope your tit, fingers squeezing and pulling on the nipple every few seconds as he kisses you, ignoring the way your mixed spit is dripping down the corners of your lips.

The air is heavy with the smell of sex and the sounds of your muffled moans, his grip on your body bruising, fingers digging into your skin as he fucks you with an almost animalistic hunger. He doesn't stop making out with you even when his thrusts become even more brutal, spilling into you with a final, deep thrust. His hot white cum filling you up only makes your body tense up, riding out your orgasms together before he collapses on top of you, his weight keeping you pinned to the bed.

''Get off of me, fatass.'' Your protests go ignored, the asshole only making himself even heavier on top of you even when you try your best to get him off.

#call of duty ghosts keegan #keegan p russ #keegan russ x reader #keegan smut #keegan p. russ x fem!oc #keegan p russ x reader #cod x reader #call of duty #cod ghosts keegan #cod ghosts #call of duty ghosts #cod keegan #keegan russ #cod ghosts x reader #keegan x reader #cod smut #smut

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saturncodedstarlette · 1 year

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Dad!Ghost, eating an apple :

K/N, looks up at their dad : Daddy?

Dad!Ghost, looks at his child : yeah, kid?

K/N, tilted their head : Where’s your dad?

Dad!Ghost, slowly stop chewing : Where’s my dad?

K/N, oblivious : Yeah. Where’s your dad?

Dad!Ghost, mentally preparing himself :

K/N : Why didn’t you meet your dad?

Dad!Ghost, internally sighs : . . . I was adopted, actually.

K/N : Why?

Dad!Ghost, shrugs : Because my dad didn’t want me.

K/N, feels bad : Awww……

Dad!Ghost, nods : I know.

Dad!Ghost : ……my dad never wanted me, so a new dad (Price) came and got me.

K/N, being unfairly adorable : I want you. 😊

Dad!Ghost, froze :

Dad!Ghost, suddenly becomes emotional :

K/N, giggles : Your daddy was lame.

Dad!Ghost, kneels down to his kid’s level : Please, give me a hug, kid.

K/N, embraces dad tightly : ☺️

Dad!Ghost, rests his face against his kid’s face : That’s exactly why I had you.

K/N, laughing gleefully : I want you daddy!

Y/N, recording from the other room with tears of joy : 🥺🥹💞

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random-thot-generator · 10 months

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'S'

Ghost x Fem Reader

Summary: Your mystery lover 'S' has finally returned and is on his way over. You prepare for his arrival, ready to meet his every need, gladly catering to each of his unique desires.

Tags/Warnings: Explicit language, swearing, explicit sexual content, light voyeurism, mutual masturbation, PiV sex, slight breeding kink if you squint, dirty talk as foreplay, lil bit of edging - Ghost likes to edge himself to save it all up for reader, mention of oral sex- male and female receiving, light Dom/sub dynamic- Ghost likes it a certain way & reader submits to his every whim, allusions to an innocence kink, no Y/N

(A/N: After reading the NSFW Ghost HCs one of mutuals posted, I mentioned maybe writing a fic for them, so this is it. It's debauched, little to no plot, just a filthy one-shot to weave all her HCs together. Lots of dirty talk. Sorry, not sorry. Enjoy the smut.

You can check out Rhea's HCs here .

@luminousbeings-crudematter I didn't forget. This one's for you, sweets.

Word Count: 3540

You're putting away groceries when your cell phone dings an alert. You scoff, leaving the fridge door standing open, and turn back to the counter with a bag of grapefruit dangling from your hand, sliding the phone closer to read the screen.

'S sent you a message.'

A tingle starts at the base of your skull that tightens your scalp and lifts the hairs at the nape of your neck. You huff out a shaky breath and open the app with a trembling finger to read his text.

[S]: omw. eta 30m. b ready

You inhale slow and deep. He's back. He's home. He's on his way. He'll be there in thirty minutes… and he wants you to be ready to greet him.

You scramble to get the rest of the groceries put away and hurry to your bedroom, stripping clothes as you go. A quick shower, like the fastest you've ever taken, and then you're in your closet, looking for that one white sundress with the tiny orange and yellow flowers in the print. It's his favorite. He's never said it, but he always takes his time removing it, toying with the straps, rubbing the eyelet trim between his fingers.

You utter a quiet, "Yes!" when you find it.

Skip the bra. The straps don't look right with the dress anyway, but the panties…

Which pair should you choose?

You hold up thongs and high-waist French cuts and boy shorts in multiple colors and textures. No. No. No… but then you smile when you pull out a pair of white cotton bikini panties with the tiniest pink satin rose sewed onto the stretch-lace waistline. He loves the innocent look, the virginal white. You slide them on and then shimmy the dress over your head, contorting your arms to work the zipper up the back.

You feel a little frantic, knowing he is just minutes away.

Now what? you ask yourself, and somehow your brain supplies the answer.

The lotion. God, how could you forget the lotion?

He likes to watch you put on lotion; says he loves how it makes your skin feel like silk. You grab the bottle from the bathroom and set it on your little vanity table, then arrange yourself on its cushioned stool just so. You check the time on your cell, then put it on silent and wait, heart pounding in your chest.

'S' has his preferences, some run-of-the-mill, others more unique in taste. The mask he always wears took a little getting used to, and his refusal to share his name. He could have lied, given you a false name, but he didn't. He only gave you an initial - 'S', but you are confident it actually is his real initial. Say what you want about the strangeness of your relationship, but at least it's honest, which is more than most can say about their own relationships.

You hear the muffled jangle of keys and the squeak of hinges as your front door opens, then silence. For such a big man, he moves about with such eerily quiet steps, but you can sense his presence in the other room. He'll take off his boots and leave them by the door before he joins you. He never walks around your flat with shoes on; he thinks it's disrespectful to track up your floors. You cross your legs when you hear the creak of a floorboard and begin rubbing lotion into your calf.

You can feel when he stops at your door to stare. The jamb gives a soft pop when he leans a shoulder against it, but you don't look up, giving him time to watch as long as he wants. Eventually, there's a sigh from the doorway and you finally glance up at him, a little smile on your face. "Hey."

His mahogany eyes are half-lidded, lazy, but their gaze is avid as they follow the motion of your hand. "'Ello, love. Miss me?"

The rough gravel of his voice in that familiar Manc accent settles along your spine, sinks into the marrow of your bones, both a thrill and a comfort to hear. You hum at the sound, smile widening. "Always."

He watches you a moment longer then comes to sit on the bed across from you, eyes still locked on the hand smoothing lotion over your skin. "Just get out of the shower?"

"Mm-hm." You tug the hem of the skirt up higher to reach your thigh. A tingle of anticipation sparks to life deep in your core and radiates a warmth through your pelvis.

He'll start talking now, you think, telling you everything he thought about while he was away.

He pulls the hem of his shirt out of his pants, begins to undo the buttons down the front, his movements casual, leisurely. He's in no hurry. "Missed the smell of that shampoo ya use. Always makes my cock hard when I get a whiff of it."

…and here we go.

You try not to squirm as you recross your legs to lotion up the other one. "Yeah?" you murmur, keeping your voice low and soft. "The herbal one with lemongrass?"

"Yeah. Tha's the one." He breathes out a heavy breath and reaches down to adjust the bulge in his pants, giving it a little squeeze before releasing it. "Like t'think about it when I fuck my fist in the shower."

You feel that heady drop of arousal in your lower belly as you let a little smirk play around your lips. "Is that all you think about while you're fucking your hand?" you goad.

He huffs out a grating chuckle. "'Course it's not, love. It gets me goin', but I usually think about yer cunt to get off. How wet ya get for me. How tight ya squeeze me when I fuck ya good an' deep. What ya feel like when ya cum. The thought of it's got me leakin' right now." He reaches down to grip himself, eyes meeting yours. "Want t'see?"

You peer at him through lowered lashes, biting your lip to hide your coy grin. "Yeah. I'd like that."

He removes his shirt, tosses it to the foot of the bed, then reaches for his belt. He's patient, methodical as he strips it from the loops and lays it aside, then undoes his pants. He pulls his cock out over his underwear, cupping his balls in one hand while he strokes his length with the other. He swipes his thumb over the tip, gathers the precum. "See how much I've missed ya?" He holds it up for you to see. "Want a taste, sweetheart?"

You nod, leaning forward, stretching your torso out to meet him. He rubs his thumb over your parted lips before slipping it between them, letting you suck and tongue at his thumb before pulling it back, dragging it down your bottom lip. "Thought about this mouth, too," he murmurs, his deep rumble sinful and low. "I almost like fuckin' it as much as yer sweet lil cunt. Like how ya use yer tongue on me, how ya swallow 'round my cock. Feels so fuckin' good, makes my balls draw up so bloody tight. Nothin' in the world like it."

You preen at the praise and your channel clenches, slick oozing into the already damp cotton of your panties. You love this game, but it's torture, listening to him talk about all the things he imagines you doing to him, all the things he wants to do to you. It's a kind of foreplay you've never experienced with anyone else, at least not to the extent that he takes it.

Sure, you've been with 'talkers' in bed before, but their words were always said in the heat of the moment, gasped out and desperate. He does all his talking before the main event, his words even and deliberate, building up the anticipation as he describes his debauched thoughts in detail. It leaves you dripping before he ever touches you.

"Had a dream about ya," he says, giving his cock a languid stroke. "You were on the bed, arse up in the air, and I'm just poundin' ya, an' yer makin' those fuckin' noises that make my gut twist. I swear I could feel how wet ya were, how it felt slidin' in an' out of ya. Woke up to find I'd made a bloody mess o' m'self," he laughed, short and husky. "Bet ya like that, don't ya, lovie? Do ya like that ya make me cum in my sleep like some horny fuckin' kid?"

You smirk at him, nod. "Yeah. I do." You can't take your eyes off his stroking hand, how it looks wrapped around his thick length. You rub your thighs together for a little friction. Your clit is throbbing so hard right now.

He grunts. "'S my fault. Gave it a wank before I fell asleep, ya know, just a few tugs while I was thinkin' 'bout ya. Pissed me off, losin' my load that close to comin' home. Ya know I like to save it all up for ya, give it to ya proper, fill up that sweet lil cunny of yers."

You let your knees fall apart, feel the skirt drape between your thighs as you press your fingers to your clit through the cotton, too turned on to resist the urge to touch yourself. Your eyes flutter closed with a breathy sigh. You lick your lips. "I don't have that kind of strength," you confess. "If I think about you, how good you fuck me, it always makes me cum. I can't stop myself."

You hear his low groan and slit your eyes open, see the way his head is thrown back, resting his weight on one arm while he continues to stroke his cock. You want to push him, so you continue to talk, watching him.

"I think about what your tongue feels like when you lick my pussy. God... h-how good it feels when you fuck me with it or suck my clit. Love how you look with my cum on your lips, how it tastes when you kiss me." Your voice has gone high, edging into a whine.

"Fuc-kin' hell…" he breathes out. His hand torques down on the base of his cock. He's reached his limit. Anymore and his cum will be arcing through the air to splatter on the floorboards between you, and he'll be damned if he's losing another load like that, not when you're this close.

He stares at you as he grips his cock, watches your hand circling in the folds of your skirt. "C'mere, love," he rasps out. "Come stand in front of me."

You're on your feet in an instant, teetering a bit before he reaches out to steady you. He draws you closer to stand between his knees, hands skimming down from your waist and over your hips, fingers trailing along the skirt until he reaches the hem. "Want me to touch ya, love?"

You nod, swallowing down the spit that's lodged at the back of your throat. "God, please touch me," you sigh out in a rush, resting your hands on his bare shoulders to steady yourself.

His eyes crinkle and you know he's smiling beneath the cloth mask, pleased by your words, the needy way you said them. "'S alright, sweetheart. Ya know I've got ya. Spread those pretty legs for me a lil, yeah?"

You widen your stance, a shiver racking your body as he places his fingers feather-light on your calves and then glides them up beneath the hem of your dress, sliding past your knees to skim over the smooth skin of your outer thighs. He doesn't stop until he reaches your hips, thumbs caressing your hips bones through the cotton panties. He slips them underneath the elastic that circles your thighs, calloused pads pressing lightly into the meat of your mons. His thumbs meet right above your clit, and your mouth falls open as you prepare for that first touch.

It's euphoric.

The pad of one thumb grazes over the swollen nub; it's a light touch, but slow in execution. He slides his thumb over it again, up and down in a slow, steady rhythm as he increases the pressure. When he finally begins to rub circles into your clit, your knees threaten to give out and a pool of slick puddles in the crotch of your panties. "Oh, my god…"

He's watching you with rapt attention, eyes zeroed in on your face. His chest is visibly rising and falling with his heavy breaths now, his voice strained as he rumbles out, "Take yer knickers off for me, sweetheart. Do it nice an' slow."

You blink your eyes open and nod, stepping back. You hitch the skirt up and hook your thumbs into the sides of your panties. He leans back for a better view, his cock flexing against his lower abdomen when he sees you pull the white cotton down from between your thighs. You lower them slow, just like he asked, letting them go when they go past your knees.

"Look so fuckin' pretty when ya do that," he murmurs, sitting up again. He grazes a hand over the front of your skirt, voice gone to gravel when he tells you, "Hand me yer knickers and hold up that skirt, love. Want t'see that pretty lil cunny. I've missed it."

It feels so obscene to be holding up your dress for a man to stare at your naked pussy. He' still stroking his cock, your damp panties clutched in the other hand, and he's pressing them against the mask covering his nose. You can hear him taking deep breaths, filling his sinuses with your musk, low moans escaping when he exhales. Eventually, he brings his hand down, and the panties disappear into the front pocket of his jeans. You won't see those panties again, you know, so you make a mental note to buy more just like them.

"Yer so beautiful," he sighs out, pulling you closer to press his face into your stomach. He breathes you in, muttering into the folds of your skirt. "Pull up the mask, sweetheart, like I showed ya."

Your trembling hands slide from his shoulders to his neck, cool fingers curling beneath the fabric, giving him a moment to adjust to the sensation before you slowly begin to peel it up. You stop when you reach his nose, leaving the lower half of his face exposed. You feel a shiver quake through his form and he groans.

His hands slide up to knead at your breasts through your dress, rolling and pinching your nipples until they're hard and tight beneath the fabric. He slides a hand behind your back and pulls down the zipper, then hooks his fingers into the straps, dragging them down your shoulders. As soon as your breasts are exposed, he's yanking you forward, hitching your legs up around his hips as he wraps an arm around your waist. His hand comes up to cup your breast, fingers indenting the flesh as he dips his head to suck the nipple into his mouth. He moans as he rolls his tongue over it, then grunts when you grind against his cock.

He releases your nipple and grinds up into you with a filthy grunt before he captures the other nipple between his lips, eyes locked with yours as he catches the bud between his teeth and worries it. You're whimpering, pressing your chest into his face, throwing your head back with a gasping, "Hah!" as he draws in as much of your breast as he can fit into his mouth. He's ravenous with them, biting and marking, staking his claim.

You're mindlessly grinding against each other now, his cock gliding through your slick heat, making the most obscene wet sounds. You feel his hand slip from around your waist and burrow underneath your gathered skirt to grip your ass, and then you're being flipped over, landing on your back with an 'oof!' as he settles his weight against you.

He only pauses long enough to push his pants down past his hips and then he's notching the head of his cock at your pulsing entrance and pressing forward, a guttural groan vibrating through his chest as he sinks into you. He doesn't stop until the head of his cock bumps against the sensitive barrier of your cervix, and then he holds himself there, panting through gritted teeth.

You know he won't move until he'd regained some control. He'll wait til he feels the muscles in your channel relax, the spasms easing into pulsing undulations that milk at his cock. His eyes slide halfway open and lock with yours as he begins to move inside you, bracing his weight on his arms so he can hover over you, so he can watch your face as he fucks you. You know he won't speak again; he can't. It renders him as speechless as it does you, catching you both up in the heady sensation of being joined after so long.

All of his focus is on you now, intent on making you cum for him. He won't be satisfied until your clenching around him, just a shaking wet mess lying beneath him. He fucks you slow and deep, drinking in every detail of your face as your jaw goes slack and your eyes haze over. Your breathy pants morph into moans when he begins to thrust harder, snapping his hips, clapping his balls against your ass in a steady tattoo. You see his eyes roll back, his lids slide shut, but he blinks them open with a grunt, determined not to miss a moment of your pleasure. It gets him off to know he makes you feel so good.

He hits that spot that only he can find, a pleasure-pain that vibrates deep in your core and radiates out to thrum through your clit. Tears begin to swim in your eyes and thoughts fade into the background. Nothing else exists except that building pressure in the cradle of your pelvis, each thrust he delivers threatening to burst the dam holding it back. Your channel flutters, begins to spasm, and his low moan becomes a choked whine when your walls clamp down.

Your heels dig into his ass, your fingers raking down his back, and he growls through his clenched teeth. Your neck arches as you tilt your chin up to the ceiling, body tense as a wire and vibrating around him as you teeter on the very edge of orgasm. One more hard thrust sends you over, and you inhale a sobbing breath as the world melts around you.

It's a rush of bliss, a cascade of liquid heat that flows like warm, sticky honey throughout your lower body. It comes in waves that pulse in time with the throb in your clit. You can feel your cum flow over and around his cock, hear the squelch of liquid as he continues to rail into you with unhinged pleasure. With one final thrust he buries himself balls deep and cums, growling as he empties himself inside your spasming walls. He finally allows his eyes to roll shut, chin lowered to his chest as he gives a few more sloppy thrusts, wanting to push his seed deep into your pulsing core.

With your feet still hooked over the backs of his thighs, your legs quake around him as you shudder. He lowers himself to an elbow, brings his other arm back to run a soothing hand over your trembling thigh, soothing you as you ride out your orgasm. His mouth descends to cover yours, his tongue snaking out to tangle with yours in a wet, sensual kiss.

He only releases his claim on your mouth when he feels you go slack beneath him, completely spent and utterly wrecked. Wrapping his arms around you, he drags your limp form further up the bed until your head is resting on the pillows, your body sinking into the mattress. He stretches out beside you and gathers you against him, his arm around your waist pulling you snug against his side. His lips brush over your temple as he sighs, relaxed and sated for the first time in months.

"Missed you," you murmur into his chest, sliding an arm around his waist and a leg over his thigh. "Stay with me tonight?" you ask, like you always do.

"Maybe," he lies, but he holds you close, and you feel his hands grip you in remorse. If he could, he would stay. You know he would. "Jus' sleep, love. I'll be here when you wake up."

You close your eyes and pretend it's the truth.

#simon ghost riley x fem reader #cod ghost x fem reader #ghost x fem reader #simon ghost riley smut #simon riley smut #cod ghost smut #ghost smut #cod smut #gift fic #showing some mutual love

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trashland-llamas · 1 year

Text

Let Me Help You

Fem reader

‘Ssh, let me help.’ Ghost had dealt with y/n squirming in his lap during the whole movie. Cluing into the problem when he heard them sigh, placing his callous-worn hand on their lower stomach. Y/n repeatedly rocked into it. Ghost had waited until the credits rolled to manhandle them. Hooking their legs over his knees. ‘I don’t want to have sex though.’

Kissing their shoulder blade, ‘We don’t have to, can take care of myself later. Is it okay if I continue?’ Ghost only continuing after y/n gave him a verbal response, not wanting to make them uncomfortable. Ghost deftly inserted two fingers into their slit, thumb circling around their clit. Ghost’s breathing picked up as his hawk eyes drank in y/n’s responses. Other hand pulling them flush to his chest by their waist. ‘Such pretty sounds, all for me. My little songbird.’ They let out a whine in attempts to tell him not to tease.

‘But I love hearing my little birdie sing.’ Removing his fingers, Ghost brought his hand up to y/n’s mouth before returning to their rightful place in their pussy. Kissing them, Ghost whispered, ‘you taste so sweet.’ Y/n’s hips began to buck as they got closer to orgasm. Ghost added another finger, thrusting them faster while his free hand came to replace his thumb. ‘You gonna cum for me, angel?’

‘Yes! Ghost, please, don’t stop.’

‘There we go, that’s it. Doing so good for me,’ Ghost cooed, easing them through their little death. Wiping his hand on their thigh, Ghost gently unhooked their legs as he moved them into a cradling position. ‘Satisfied?’ Nodding, y/n kissed his collarbone. ‘I love you too, no need to thank me.’ Ghost getting the attached silent message.

#mdni #cod #call of duty #cod x reader #x female reader #x fem reader #ghost x fem reader #simon riley x fem reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley #ghost x reader #cod ghost x fem reader

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the-californicationist · 2 months

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They Help You Practice

Task Force 141 asks you to be the bait for a secret assignment. So, they make you audition for the role. You end up getting gangbanged by the whole team and loving it!

TW: gangbang, vaginal sex, anal sex, oral sex, gay sex, degradation, explicitly consensual, spit? please check AO3 link at bottom for full tag list

You let yourself into his office, shutting the door behind you, and stood before him at a sharp parade rest, waiting to be informed about your fate.

“Sergeant, thank you for coming. There is no need for formalities. This is just a chat.”

You moved to a more relaxed rest and nodded.

Price continued,

“This is going to be quite the ask. Would you be willing to perform duties which are…outside of your current scope?”

“Yes, sir,” you responded just as you should have, as you were trained to, but Price was hoping you would understand exactly what you would be getting yourself into.

“I need you to go undercover to a Konni restaurant cover in Minsk…as bait. Am I making myself clear?”

A pause. But, to your credit, you didn’t flinch. You did raise an eyebrow and ask a clarifying query,

“What kind of bait, sir?”

“Our next target, Dimitri Sokolov, will be at the Black Pearl bar in Minsk tomorrow, and we won’t get a better chance to lure him away from his bodyguards. He almost never makes public appearances, so he must be making an exception. Sokolov has,” he paused for a moment, trying to find the words, making general, suggestive motions over his own chest, “particular tastes in his women. You just so happen to have the right profile for the job. Again, this is not an order, Sergeant. I need to know if you’re willing to accept.”

“Yes, sir,” you tried to appear fully in control. You knew your breasts were large, but you had never been asked to use them as a weapon. There was a first time for everything, you supposed. You would do anything to help the team.

The captain loved your composure. He knew you would be perfect for the job.

“Good. Let's brief the team.”

Price walked with you down to the meeting room at the end of the hall and found Soap, Ghost, and Gaz sitting in the desk chairs every way except the way they were designed, lounging over the furniture like big cats, melting into the various surfaces they encountered. They fixed themselves when the captain walked in.

“Gentlemen,” Price opened, “this is our bait. Her code name is Rabbit. Rabbit, this is Soap, Ghost, and Gaz.”

You nodded politely and resumed a semi-formal rest position.

The men had noticed you around the base but hadn’t been formally introduced. You were a desk rider, but still, you were hard to miss. The baggy military clothing had almost managed to conceal a bounty of soft curves, but your lush body persisted beneath it, and the outlines of your feminine form made heinous suggestions in the fabric. Unfortunately for them, you didn’t hang around the gym or the common area enough for them to have generated a fully accurate image of your enticing body, but they were certain it was delicious. They watched you like peckish wolves. Waiting hungrily, shifting in their seats in anticipation. For what, you weren’t sure.

“Rabbit is going undercover for us to take down Sokolov, Vladimir Makarov’s new shipping controller. He has a particular penchant for,” Price paused just long enough for anyone to understand his true meaning, “certain types of women. Rabbit fits the mold, so all she needs is the gear and the training.”

Price cut open three large cardboard boxes to reveal slinky dresses and a number of questionable garments.

“I’ll need to try them on,” you offered, “Do you want me to get changed, Captain?”

“Sounds good. Come back in when you’re all set,” he smiled, enjoying the view as you left the room.

Ghost crossed his arms, clearly with quite a mouthful to share and but refusing to. Gaz stared down at the knife he was playing with, bashful. But Soap would not be cowed, and as soon as you left, he said,

“Feeding her to the sharks like bait, Captain? I dinnae ken any of us was so expendable.”

“Soap,” Price warned, “the sergeant is more than capable of handling -”

“I wasnae askin’ about the lassie’s capabilities. Send her in to slit his throat with a knife in her hand, for all I care. But to send her in unguarded, unarmed? No. It’s not right,” Soap crossed his arms.

“He’s got a point, Captain. Why take the risk of losing an operative?” Ghost spoke coldly.

Price furrowed his brow at their short-sightedness,

“And do what, exactly? Have the Russians scurry back underground at the first hint of an assassination attempt? We’ve failed that mission three times, boys. I’ll not have this go south again.”

“I’m sure she is capable, Captain. But, is Rabbit committed to this plan?” Gaz asked.

“Sure,” Price tried to sound reassuring, “we spoke in my office. She agreed to come down here. Besides, she’ll have you three as backup. You won’t let anything happen to her.”

Gaz did not seem convinced. All three soldiers wore a scowl on their faces, and even though Ghost’s was obscured by his mask, his body language communicated his displeasure. Price carefully ashed his cigar to renew the glowing tip, taking a long drag while they waited for you to return.

You were back without too much of a delay, but when you walked in, your colleagues were visibly stunned. They didn’t recognize you at first. A short black dress had replaced your camouflage fatigues, showing off miles and miles of smooth, shining skin. Your thick thighs stretched the silky fabric, and your ass threatened to escape from the edge of the dress with every step you took. Your new heels clacked sharply against the cold concrete, making your legs flex and tense, showing off your well-formed musculature. You did not miss squat day very often, apparently.

But, the assets you were trying to use for this particular mission were the real stars of the show. Your heavy breasts battled against the low dip of the dress, providing a deep display of cleavage, hinting at pink perky nipples hidden just below the line of the black silk. Your tits jiggled as you struck the floor with each careful step, making the room full of men breathe a little heavier at the sight.

Soap’s big mouth betrayed them all,

“Christ in Heaven. There you are, bonnie.”

Ghost backhanded him hard on the shoulder. Price glowered.

You had put on a little more makeup than might be socially acceptable in an office setting, making the suggestive outfit complete. Finally, as you stood at the head of the meeting table, you took out your task force regulation braid and pulled your fingers through your hair, breaking up your long waves as they spilled down your neck and back.

You smiled,

“Well, do I look the part?”

Price coughed, inhaling too much smoke on accident. Gaz hadn’t moved since you walked in the room. He just stood there, dumbfounded, arms held at an odd angle as if frozen in time. Ghost cleared his throat to save them,

“Yes, Rabbit. You clean up very nicely, don’t you?”

“Well,” you sighed, “this is sort of the raunchiest outfit I found in the box. I was going to go with something a bit more casual, but I thought I’d better be noticeable if we’re going to nail this asshole.”

Gaz finally came out of his locked state, aghast,

“Noticeable? Sweetheart, this is more than noticeable. Goddamn.”

“You think it’s too much? I don’t really know what would get his attention,” you shrugged, looking shy as you confessed, “I don’t get asked out very often.”

“You could go out with me, lassie,” Soap edged his way closer to her, slinking around the table, “We’d have a hell of a time, so we would.”

“Don’t listen to Johnny,” Ghost stood in front of him a bit, snaking an arm around your cinched waist, “He thinks takin’ his birds to the dog races is a good date idea.”

“Well, isn’t it?” Soap protested.

Gaz grabbed your hand tenderly, examining your fingers like they were a precious work of art,

“Maybe you could come with me to Berlin next weekend, babes. There’s a killer music festival going on, and we could have a really good time. How does that sound?”

“Boys,” Price interrupted, “I’m sure she has plenty of work to finish here; can’t just be galavanting off with you muppets. In fact, why don’t you stop by my office after this mission, bunny rabbit, and we can work on your projected shipment dates together? You know, I used to be a logistics man, myself.”

Ghost rolled his eyes at the Captain,

“Please, logistics? You drove a truck back and forth on base delivering food to the canteen twenty years ago. I’ve read your file.”

The men all started talking over each other, forgetting your presence in favor of coming out on top of the dog pile. You smiled to yourself, eager to push more of their buttons.

Slipping one skinny strap down your shoulder, you spoke through the din,

“You know, this dress can be strapless. Do you think Sokolov wants it up…” you locked eyes with Captain Price, seeing his throat swallow hard as he watched you in the silence you had created, “or down?”

The other soldiers were stunned, unable to look away as you slipped both straps off of your shoulders and tucked them into your dress. One strap was still partially visible, and Ghost slowly moved one gloved finger up your arm, tracing your skin lightly, and finished tucking it in for you. He lingered, caressing the side of your breast as he removed it.

“You gonna be able to seduce this Russian bastard, Sergeant? Or, do you need some practice?” Price asked with a low, threatening tone.

The whole room held its breath waiting for your answer. The four men towered over your short frame, casting shadows over you like black spells, hoping you would relinquish your control over them. All of their eyes watched as you slowly, achingly lifted a hand and traced it up Gaz’s canvas pant leg, stopping when you discovered the heavy head of his cock, hardening down toward his knee. With the back of your hand, you pet it like a skittish animal, reveling in its smoothness and warmth. Your eyes found his as they fluttered, blood rushing through his body in a panic,

“I think I could use some practice, Captain.”

You felt Gaz’s rod leap at your answer. He bent down to kiss your mouth, slanting his lips fiercely against you.

Soap came up behind you, gripping your ass through the silk of your dress roughly,

“We’ll help you, lass. We’ll help you practice, won’t we, boys? Jesus, you smell so good,” he buried his face in your neck and sucked against your skin.

Ghost found your other hand and held it tightly, using it to steady you from Soap and Gaz’s assault. Price moved Gaz out of the way, earning himself a glare, and peeled the dress off of you in one fell swoop, revealing the expanse of uncovered skin underneath.

“Holy shite,” the captain breathed, whispering his lament, “Sergeant, where are your knickers?”

“I guess I forgot them, Captain,” you blushed, batting your eyes up at him, doing actual damage to his psyche.

He didn’t have much time to savor the moment though because Ghost was shoving him out of the way to pick you up by the thighs to lay you on the table. The giant knelt between your legs, pulling you by the knees until your ass was hanging off of the low wooden planks. He lifted his mask just enough for you to see him lick his lips over sharp, white teeth before feasting on your wet folds, letting the cloth of the balaclava hide most of his efforts.

Ghost created a soothing, yet electrically wet warmth in your core which made you keen loudly, only to be muffled by Price’s smoky kiss. You could taste the burned tobacco on his tongue and your skin was scraped by his thick mustache.

Gaz’s voice got your attention. He had freed his cock from his pants and started to stroke it, standing by your side and playing with your breasts with his free hand as Price savaged your mouth. He tugged on your nipple and told you,

“You know, Rabbit, you’re going to have to really put yourself out there tomorrow. Show him these gorgeous tits of yours. Make him think you’re hungry for his cock,” Gaz rubbed his head, hard and hungry for you, “Can you do that? Let us see how good you can be, princess. We need you to ace this mission”

You felt Ghost dip his hard cock between your pussy lips, distracting you from Price’s tongue in your mouth. You broke the kiss and looked up at Ghost, dazed, into his masked face,

“I promise, sir. I’ll be good,” you looked around at all four of the men, reaching out to grab Soap’s cock that he was stroking for you, “Will you show me how?”

You didn’t give Soap time to answer. The Scot gasped as you devoured him, sucking him down into your throat, making yourself gag as he fucked your throat in and out in long thrusts. He tangled his fingers in your hair. Ghost matched his rhythm below you, pounding his cock into your wet hole. You thought you could feel something on his dick. Was he pierced? You could see your slick gleam on his lips and chin where his mask was still askew.

“Yeah,” Ghost smiled haughtily, “you like those piercings, don’tcha baby?”

You didn’t have a chance to respond. Price pulled your head away from Soap’s dick, kissing your mouth lewdly again before giving you an order,

“Open your mouth wide for me, love.”

You obeyed. Then, he spit onto your tongue, warm and bubbling, before shoving your face down onto his own fat rod. It made your lips burn with its cruel girth, even though it felt relatively soft, and you thought fleetingly that there was no way your poor little cunt was going to be able to take him, Ghost was big enough to be filling, but the captain was carrying around a true weapon.

He pulled your head off of him roughly, watching as the strings of drool connected your tongue to his cockhead, growling in short, lustful breaths.

“Alright, boys. Make sure she’s good and ready for me. You know the drill,” Price barked, and then he was gone.

The drill? You looked for him, confused, and only found Gaz, who was now slapping his long dick on your cheek, knocking for entrance. He let you take his head into your mouth, having a much easier time than you did with your captain. You bobbed your head up and down dutifully, not realizing just how long his cock was until he tried to force it into your throat. He held you down for a moment, moaning shamelessly, before releasing you to let you breathe.

“You alright, babes?” He laughed.

You nodded, moaning. Ghost took himself out of your wetness and pulled you off of the table. Soap hopped up to lay where you were, and you moved to ride him, making sure to get right to the edge with him to let Ghost back in. You’d never taken two men at once, much less four, but there was a first time for anything, and you were a quick learner.

Spearing yourself onto Soap felt like someone had created a warm, custom, living dildo just for you. He was a perfect fit, and you both cried out in pleasure from the sensation. Ghost slapped your ass, hard, and you screamed, clenching around Soap’s cock. Soap moaned darkly.

“Keep suckin’ that big cock, baby. Need to teach you how to multitask,” Ghost threatened as he bent to eat your asshole, wiggling his tongue into the tight rim to gain entrance.

He started to fuck you with it, his long wet muscle moving in and out as Soap thrust himself up into you, hitting your g-spot every single time like magic. You took Gaz back into your mouth and tried your best to take him deeper into your throat. Every time you did, you would gag, and your muscles would involuntarily clench, and the whole room would moan. You started to come, feeling yourself flood around Soap, whose mouth had latched onto one of your nipples, suckling like he was trying to feed from you.

You could see Price out of the corner of your eye. He had lit another cigar and was smoking it, stroking himself, still not at his full capacity. You were scared of him. He looked like some sort of demon, breathing fire, as big around as your forearm. He wasn’t as long as Gaz, nor as delightfully curved as Soap, but he made your legs shake without even touching you. When he did touch you, rising from his chair when he wanted to fondle you, pinching a nipple, pulling your hair, forcing your head down on Gaz, it lit you up like you were kerosene and he was the match.

Suddenly, Ghost’s tongue was gone, only to be replaced by his heavy head. He was going to fuck your ass, and there was nothing you could say to stop him. You’d only done anal once or twice before, and you knew it might hurt. He went so slowly that you could feel each and every piercing as he popped them into you, one by one. Then, as he pulled back out, you felt them pop as each one went through you again, raking himself in and out gently, as careful with you as he could be. When you were more pliant, he began to throw his weight into each thrust, and Soap started to groan below you from the sensation.

“Don’t you fuckin’ dare, Johnny boy,” Price threatened, his voice full of stern warning.

You weren’t sure what he was warning him about until Soap pulled his cock out of you and came all over your stomach, Ghost’s thrusts making the fluid smear between you two, rubbing your bodies together. Ghost pulled out next, and you felt his hot, thick ropes spray onto your ass cheeks, melting down your thighs.

Gaz abandoned your mouth and took over for Soap, feeding himself inch by inch until he found your end, leaving some of his cock out in the cold. He fucked you faster than the others, not caring to move out of the way as Soap rolled off of the table, whining like a whore the whole time.

Captain Price came around to your face, holding your chin in his hand, looking down at you without pity,

“Garrick’s got a long cock, don’t he, love? You’re being so good for my men, such a good girl. Sweet little slut, hm? You’re going to do so well on this mission. Those areholes won’t know what hit ‘em.”

He grabbed your hair fiercely, hurting your scalp, forcing you to turn and look back at Gaz. Price took a long puff from his cigar, blowing it past your face,

“Baby, he could fuck you for a hundred years. He’s not gonna come until you scream his name.”

You heard Gaz moan louder at Price’s suggestion, so you did. You screamed for him over and over, not caring who might have heard you, begging for him to come in you.

“He’s not allowed to come in you, love,” Price kissed your open panting mouth, “But, don’t worry. It’s about to be my turn, and you’ll be feeling my fuckin’ come drip out of your cunt all night long.”

Price’s voice made your blood run cold with fear. He wasn’t making threats. Those were clearly promises. Predictions of the future. His cock was tucked back into the band of his pants, but it lay in wait there like a serpent, eager to strike.

Your heart pounded in your chest as Gaz pulled his long shaft all the way out of you, his come shooting onto your lips and ass, feeling him use his hand to rub it into your skin, making you sticky. Your captain gave him a warning look, and you realized they had done this sort of thing before. Perhaps many times before. As you watched Soap and Ghost comfort each other, breathing close together, touching themselves, you wondered if they ever fucked each other as well. Picturing the four of them rutting into each other made you hungry, deep in your belly, starving to witness such an act.

Finally, it was your captain’s turn. The look in his eyes made you tremble. You knew he wouldn’t be cruel, not on purpose anyway. He wasn’t a heartless man, but he wasn’t one to hold himself back from what he wanted either. You knew that he would fuck you the way he wanted to, as hard as he wanted to, no matter how much complaining you might do about how his cock would stretch you out - even to the point of pain.

“On your back, love. Legs up. Spread that pussy open for me,” he commanded.

You did as he told you, opening yourself up shamelessly, letting your folds spread wide.

He walked around the table to gaze upon your form, staring at your pink flesh like it was a hot meal, and he was starving. He moaned, rubbing his hand across your sticky mons,

“Mm, that’s my pretty little Rabbit. Now…” he paused for effect, sinking three fingers into your hole roughly but ever so slowly, twisting his arm as he did, corkscrewing his knuckles into you, “...I want you to understand that there’s a reason I’m last in line, love.”

You cried out from the pressure of his huge hand. It felt like you were going to tear. Then, after a few hard thrusts, he released you. The emptiness you felt was heartbreaking. You looked for him, pleading with your eyes for him to return to you. He pulled his cock free from his waistband, unable to connect his finger to his thumb as he wrapped around it. You whined involuntarily, something animal in you recognizing its fate.

“Shh, baby, I know,” he drug out his voice, “I know…”

He positioned the heavy shaft on top of your body, measuring himself from base to tip, reaching your navel. As he slapped it against you, it made a loud thudding noise, slamming into your muscles like a fist. Price was so heavy. You’d never even imagined a man could feel like he was pure, warm, thick marble. Your pussy seemed to understand the panic you were feeling, flooding itself, preparing for the upcoming invasion.

“I’m so fuckin’ eager for you, love,” he slapped you again, quick taps right to your swollen clit.

Then, he put his head inside of you, squeezing himself in. He left it inside of you and started to pump himself with his hand. Between the vibration from his fist and the fact that it felt like you were sitting on the end of a steel bat, you couldn’t hold back your keening, loud and high-pitched.

Price began the steady, slow march forward, swelling harder and harder by the moment, making your walls feel like they might break. It seemed as if all the blood in your body was rushing down your belly and up your legs, hurrying to your core.

Your eye were wild, full of your fear, tears forming at the corners of your eyes,

“I can’t, please! I can’t. It’s too big, fuck…”

Price didn’t stop. He just kept feeding himself in and pulling himself back out, wetting his cock’s skin with your soaking hole.

“You can, and you will, love,” the captain growled, “Now, shut that pretty mouth and take it.”

Your cheeks were wet and your eyes burned, he was so deep within you that it felt like he was thrusting into your throat. You couldn’t breathe.

Suddenly, Soap grabbed your hand, kissing your palm, using his tongue to lick your skin,

“It’s alright, bonnie. I’m here, lass. Breathe with me, lass.”

He bent down to kiss you, but he didn’t quite connect, letting his lips graze yours featherlight. Soap breathed in and breathed out in steady, measured beats. You felt yourself begin to relax. It had such an immediate effect that you heard Price groan, able to slip himself a bit deeper than he had done.

It was like a chain reaction, the more relaxed you became, breathing with Soap, feeling him suck and lick your nipples softly, the more Price was able to squeeze himself in.

Finally, you felt his hair at the base of his cock, thick and curled, and as he sighed, he settled inside of you, impossibly pressing against your whole body, making a clear outline of himself in your lower belly. He rubbed it, almost fondly, and you felt every inch of him throb against your walls, his head bullying your womb.

You cried out again from the strain. Ghost and Gaz joined Soap. Gaz began to suckle from your breast on your left side, fondling himself as he did so, getting hard again. Ghost was at your head on the end of the table, and he bent to kiss you, upside down, his tongue running all the way down your throat, long and slippery against your own.

He pulled away, petting your cheek as Price began to grind himself into you,

“You alright, Rabbit? You enjoying your captain’s cock, hm?”

“Mm hm,” you whispered, whimpering through your tears.

Ghost smiled, and his straight, white teeth looked menacing as he did, sharp, wolf-like,

“I know you are, babe. You’re doing so well. Look at him. You can see him inside of your cunt.”

He lifted your head by your hair, showing you the grotesque shadow of Price’s heavy rod as it shoved itself into you. You reached your hands down to it, feeling it through your skin. It was so unique. His size wasn’t like anything you’d ever experienced, and your body was sending confused signals of passion, your orgasms coming in shattered, broken waves. Feeling incomplete. Too powerful, and yet drawn out like the last note of a symphony.

As you touched him from the outside, Price moaned aloud for the first time. It shocked you. You looked up at him, managing to meet his eyes.

“Fuck,” you moaned, “You feel so good inside of me, Captain.”

“Mm, yeah?” He replied, using his hands to press yours down onto his cock, making you gasp, “You like it, baby? I’m gonna make sure you never want anybody else.”

Price reached down and grabbed you by the throat, scaring away Soap and Gaz. He lifted you up, making his dick fit inside of you that much tighter with the change of angle. Then, he began the true performance. He thrust himself in with fast, punishing strokes, slamming himself into you. You were sure you would bruise, and you felt dizzy, almost like you’d pass out.

Soap was at your side again, holding your hair away from your face,

“Look at you, lassie. Such a good girl for your captain. Takin’ that cock so damn well. Can’t wait to be back inside you, girl.”

He kissed your cheek, palm massaging his dick which was back to full mast, eager again.

“Alright, Johnny,” Price grinned, “Since you asked so nicely.”

Without any strain whatsoever, Price lifted you up by your hips and held you in the air as he fucked you, bringing you around the table so that Soap could position himself at your asshole. Ghost’s earlier efforts had made it ready for him, and you could very acutely feel how much he was throbbing to be inside of you, pulsing as he fit against Price.

“Ungh, fuck, lass,” Soap groaned as he began to thrust into you, pistoning with the captain, “He’s got you so tight for me.”

“Yeah? It feels so good. Mmm…” you whimpered, feeling more full than you’d ever been.

Johnny was holding your breasts as Price lifted you up, brutalizing your pussy. Every thrust felt like an electric pulse, making you cock-drunk and mindlessly pliant.

They worked in tandem for what felt like eons, pistoning in and out with each other. Eventually, after he had felt you come, Soap addressed his captain directly,

“Sir, I’m…please, sir, can I?”

“Can you what, soldier?” Price grunted through gritted teeth, testing his sergeant.

“Can I come, sir? Please, Cap…”

“Yeah, Johnny. C’mon, mate. Let her feel it.”

“F-fuck! Fuck…” Soap groaned, pushing himself flush against your asshole, pumping his come into you.

He caught his breath while he was still in you, kissing the nape of your neck, and then he pulled away slowly. He helped Gaz replace him, holding your ass wide apart so his comrade could position himself inside. And just when you thought your poor pussy would have room to breathe, Gaz’s incredibly long shaft was piercing your hole again.

You felt him sigh, his breath against your neck. He took over holding you up, and Price praised him,

“That’s it, Garrick. She’s all yours. Take it.”

Gaz reacted to his words in a way that made you rethink their entire dynamic. Then, you remembered how he had come when you said his name. He seemed to get harder and harder the more Price praised him, and you wanted to give him that same validation.

“Gaz,” you whispered, leaning your head back to rest on his shoulder, “It’s so big, baby. It’s like I can feel you in my throat. Oh, Gaz. Gaz!”

“Mm,” Price put his mouth to your neck, groaning, “That’s it, love. Tell him how much you like that long cock.”

“So much, Gaz. It’s so good,” you added.

Then, Price took his left hand and wrapped it around the back of Gaz’s neck in a moment of surprising intimacy. As Price kissed the front of your throat, Gaz kissed your shoulder and nape. You felt like a peeled fruit being shared between them, a ripped rind, your juicy flesh being split in two; two halves of a ripe orange.

Gaz lasted longer than Soap had when he fucked your ass, but Price’s attention seemed to spur him on. His movements were slippery, and you could feel the remnants of Soap’s come frothing around your entrance, easing his efforts.

“Captain,” Gaz whined, desperate for more of that approval.

“C’mon, Kyle. She’s ready for you. Good lad.”

The use of his first name made Gaz thrust up into you with a feverish pace. He cried out as he came, hard, into you. Feeling him fall back out of you made you imagine the tendrils of a giant kraken, seeming to travel forever just to remove himself from your body, slithering out of you with a terrible squelching noise.

Gaz let Price hold you again, and you turned, expecting Ghost. Price laughed at you, chuckling softly,

“Missing your masked man already?”

You looked at Price, feeling raw and used, waiting for an explanation,

“He’s a little…preoccupied.”

Price laid you back on the table, letting you turn your head to see Ghost, buried in Soap’s asshole up to the hilt, furiously jacking him off, slamming into him a little too roughly for your liking. It was violent, but Soap seemed to be enjoying himself beyond measure.

Your pussy, though, disagreed with your assessment, clenching around Price’s cock while you watched Simon abuse his friend’s hole.

“Mm,” the captain moaned, feeling your muscles react, “You like that, love? You wanna be fucked rough like that?”

He didn’t give you a chance to answer. Price wrapped your legs beneath his chest in a full mating press and wrecked you, pounding into your body like a giant fist. You felt your bones shudder beneath his behemoth form. Just when you thought you might puke from how overstimulated you were, you felt him pause. Then, your pussy felt like it was leaking, and it was. Price’s come just kept milking its way out of you, his cock pulsing inside, making your walls throb.

When he finished, he kissed you on the mouth, almost lovingly, reverently. He started to slide out of you, being extremely careful, and you’d never felt so empty in your entire life. It was as if you’d never be full again. You found yourself whining, whimpering for Price to return.

“That’s right, pretty girl,” Price smiled, “Never gonna want anybody else, are ya?”

You smiled, shocked and in considerable discomfort. Gaz scooped you up off of the table, cradling you, sitting down with you in his lap in a large chair. He reached down for some water and handed it to you, helping you recover.

Price was standing with his hands on his hips, panting from his exertion. Ghost and Soap were connected like two hounds, locked together, the Scot cock warming his tall lover, groaning on every exhale.

“Well, what do you think, lads? Do we have a winner?” Price asked.

“Yeah, we fucking do, Cap,” Gaz pet your head, moving your sweaty hair out of your eyes.

“Fuck yeah, mate,” Ghost growled, pawing at Johnny again, rabid for him.

“Hear that, bonnie?” Soap managed to ask, still moaning in little breaths as he was being speared by Ghost, “Got yourself a new permanent assignment.”

Price walked over to you, grabbing you by the face and kissing you once more,

“You belong to us now, love. Perfect little slut.”

AO3 Link

#call of duty fanfic #cod mw2 #cod mwii #cod #call of duty #tf 141 x reader #task force 141 x reader #task force 141 #tf 141 #141 x reader #call of duty mwii #x female reader #x fem!reader #captain john price #johnny soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #kyle gaz garrick #the gang's all here

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naivegh0ul · 8 months

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I'm obsessed with older!Ghost. Just a filthy, perverted older Ghost who's obsessed with you, his younger neighbour. He's in his late 40's, and you're just a young college student who has no idea that your neighbour, who looks like a friendly man, fucks his fist each night to the thought of you.

He's always peeking out of his window, a cup of tea in one hand and his cock in the other, slowly stroking as his eyes track you as you walk down the street. God, how he wished he could touch you, bend you over the nearest surface and show you how a real man fucks.

He hears when you bring people back to your home, the walls are thin, after all, and he hears the way you moan and whimper. He can imagine you writhing in your bed, back arched so pretty and those plush lips slick with spit and maybe even cum.

He imagines himself in the place of the person fucking you, imagines splitting you open on his thick cock. He imagines pushing his cock past those beautiful lips of yours, letting you suckle on his tip like a good little slut, before thrusting further in, letting you gag and choke on his cock. The things he'd give to see your gorgeous eyes, glazed over with lust and tears spilling out from how roughly he's fucking your face.

His fantasies are- like always- rudely interrupted by the sound of you moaning another person's name, and he brings himself back to the present, reminding himself that he's not the one currently fucking into that tight hole of yours.

#i need this man so bad #older!ghost #fem reader #ghost cod #ghost #simon ghost riley #simon riley #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost x female reader #simon riley x female reader #ghost smut

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chaosandmarigolds · 21 days

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Yeah yeah- Simon’s big and protective and he’s scary but THIS MAN- ahem, this man’s love language is physical touch. Don’t ask me why. But it is

Simon! Who begs for kisses as soon as you’re the sanctuary of your home like a man starved

Who likes touching you but like in the most innocent way possible (and not depends on the mood) with a hand on your back, thighs, or his cheeks pressed against the spot inbetween your shoulder blades

Who loves kissing your joints- wrists, ankles and knees

Who! Does flinch when you try to kiss his neck and practically recoils from his but lord knows he loves giving neck kisses

Who! Stole your perfume and sprayed it on his coat whenever he’s deployed

Who! Doesn’t get checked up when he’s back from deployment cause he is going home and he going to eat good food, and he’s going to see you so therefore he does not care about the gash in his side that was quickly stitched up by the field medic (spoiler, you made him go get medical care)

Who! Listens to your heartbeat like a baby, head on chest, and he just listens…he said it was soothing

Who! Did almost tear up when you tried to leave him at a family get together of yours because your cousin was dragging you away and you told him to stay with the dads (separation anxiety, he’s a puppy I’m telling you)

Who! Is mean to everyone. Literally everyone but will then turn to you-

“I’m sorry-“

“Sorry ain’t fuckin cutting it, get it done or I’ll have your hide on my w-“….”Hi, luvie.”

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley #simon riley imagine #simon riley fanfic #simon riley x reader #cod fluff #ghost x you #cod x you #xfem!reader #call of duty x reader #ghost fanfiction #x fem!reader #coco's chaos <3

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diejager · 5 months

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Saccharine and Monstrosity pt.1

Pairing: Eldritch Horror!König x mermaid!reader

Cw: kidnapping, manipulation, DARK FIC, trap, luring, mention of breeding kink, protective König, mention of partial nudity, hunting, tell me if I missed any. Wc: 4K

I got inspired by @konigsblog ‘s post.

You enjoyed the sun as much as any other betta fish mermaid, laying on the warm rocks and bathing under the bright, yellow sun. You lived in a school of fish that moved near the shores of a tropical island a few generations before, building houses under the coral reef and rocks where newly placed branches would grow and work as a natural shield. The world you lived in - the part of the ocean you called your home - was bright and colourful, the shallow waters clear and gleaming under the warming sun.

You liked all things bright and colourful, either big or small, you decorated your part of the cave with things you found while swimming around your territory. Be it a golden coin shining on the ocean floor, or a shard of coloured glass, you picked it all up and stuck it around your room. Sometimes, you found pretty things near the limits of your home, and other times, you ventured closer to the edge of the darkness when something shiny caught your attention.

Over the ridge of sand that drew the start of the darkness, that deep and menacing slope down to the deepest part of your ocean, where darker, meaner and cruel beings born of cruelty and madness lived. It was somewhere all mers were warned of, to stay far away from the darkness and never stray from the light that fed and protected you. You thrived in the light, your body absorbing the warmth from the sun that made your scales vibrant and feeding from the fauna and flora that lived beside you: seaweeds and small fishes.

Your kind grew up with stories of horrifying monsters and cruel creatures that lived in that abyss, lingering near the shallow to catch a pretty, little mer for their hoard. Whatever became of the taken was still unknown, once a mer was taken by One, no one would hear from them from then on. Your parents had warned you about straying too close from the shallow, daring fate when you swam over the ridge to collect those pretty gems you fancied so much.

“Don’t worry,” you’d grin at her, fins flickering behind you. “I’m a fast swimmer, mom!”

You were a fast swimmer, slipping between rocks and corals, hands cradling your little shells while you fled from the dark, twisting over the ridge and vanishing between the corals. That’s what you did most days, picking up people’s trash to make it your treasure, fingers cleaning the sand off the holes and crevasses before sticking them to your walls. You also tinkered with metal creations you found, a silver fork or a rusted-looking instrument.

Granted, you joined in hunts, catching sardines and herrings, claws digging into its scaled bodies and teeth ripping into its flesh, the only other taste being sea salt, or bathed under the sun, but you preferred scavenging for loot. Although mers hunted alone, most found it easier to do it in groups, swarming shoals of fish and catching in a group of a dozen at a time for your little colony. So when you were fed and rested, you were back out, treading the line between the shallow and the abyss.

You swam slowly, head turning left and right for anything that would catch your attention, for that small glint hidden under a thin veil of sand or a long metallic object sticking out from the ground. You already had a few things in your arms, a few shells, human objects thrown overboard or floated into the sea, and small treasures: white pearls. You picked things up from both sides, mind in a comfortable and pleasant space, prideful of your catch so far that you were oblivious of the eyes following your colourful body.

His pale eyes wandered over your puffy cheeks and sweet lips, those squinted eyes in mirth as you searched for more. He went down the curve of your shoulders and the swell of your breasts, perky nipples covered by pretty shells, over your soft stomach and that bright, colourful tail of yours that first caught his attention. Every scale glistened under the sun, reflecting the light on the sand while you swam, your fins curving with the twist of your tail.

You were the prettiest thing he’d ever seen, an angel collecting treasure, just like he did. He saw the batch in your arms, clutched between your breasts when you dove to pick something up on his side. You were as adorable and innocent as you were pretty, your action oblivious of his predatory eyes, dipping into his territory without fear of retribution on his part. He liked that bold and daring attitude of yours, fitting for someone so courageously bright and flashing your bold colours to him.

If he were to drop something closer to him, would you still swim towards it or ignore it for something closer to the ridge? If he hid until you were close enough, would he be able to wrap his limb around you? To feel your soft skin and coarse scales under his slimy arm. He was glad he decided to hunt today, searching for both prey - mer or fish, he isn’t picky about what he ate - and treasure. Hidden under a couple of tentacles, he dropped a golden coin a few feet away from him, his veil and the darkness helping him hide from your sight.

His heart soared when he saw your eyes widen, a smile curling at the corners of your lips when you saw his little coin, diving towards him with enthusiasm. You were so close to him, hand stretching to grab the object with small, clawed fingers. When you held it in your hand, appraising it, he felt pride bubble in his chest, rising to his mind as he took this occasion to get his arm around you. You flinched when he wrapped the tip of his tentacle around your tail, squirming around in terror. In a panicked struggle to escape him, you dropped everything you’d collected and fled from him with a cry.

He watched you swim away from him through saddened eyes, hearing the thudding from the things you dropped, even the coin he gifted you. His eyes never left your fleeing body until you jumped over the edge, your tail the last thing he saw in that moment of self-deprivation and sadness. He hoped you’d come back, forgetting the fear of his sudden attention and daring fate once more.

He came the next day and the day after that, but you weren’t there, your precious smile and happy eyes were a memory in his mind, a fleeting moment in his gloomy world. He came back every day, hiding in the darkness, on the line between pitch darkness and light shading. He wished you were there every day, his eyes bleeding with optimism and hope for a single smidgen of bright colours.

He hadn’t seen you in the following week. His shoulders slumped and caved into himself in sadness every time he came by, his blue eyes dulling bit by bit, that hopeful thinking drowning under realistic thinking and a pessimistic mind. Then he caught a glimpse of colour against the white sand. Before long, he saw arms filled with shiny items, trailing nearer to your side than his, but still chasing for treasures.

If he wanted to approach you, to touch your soft-looking skin and run his arms over your scaled tail, he’d have to find a way to lure you in. He watched you the first few days, his tentacles curling on itself and burying himself in the sand, the hundreds of suckers searching for buried treasures to leave for you. When you turned your back to him, his unwinding arm left the things he found near the ridge for you to find and take. Little gifts for you, courting gifts he left and gifted you in an attempt to woo you.

You were skittish and fleeing but took all his gifts with shaky smiles and grateful eyes, you knew he gave them to you. Of course, you did, you were his brave and smart little mermaid, approaching his offerings with apprehension - he felt hurt you feared and got nervous around him, but he understood you, his kind ate yours - and scanned the sand around you for any danger before crossing the line. He felt giddy when you added them to your stack, his mind-blowing with dreams and thoughts of you decorating your little cave with the things he gave you. On the ceiling, against the wall and on the ground or surfaces, you would use the things he gave you for your home.

It sent him up the walls of his caves with joy and excitement, his limbs curling to rearrange his home to prepare for you, to accommodate your arrival to his big, lonely home.

It took a week or two - or so he thought, his perception of time was and had always been warped in some way - before you became comfortable enough to approach him, to let him curl his slimy tentacle around your tail and up your body. He could finally feel you and it made him ecstatic - he was over the moon every time he got to touch you. Little pokes, fleeting squeezes and feathery bites from his suckers on your flesh, all things he let himself taste before your coupling. A coupling between the prettiest and the cruellest beings in the ocean would unwind the seams that made your worlds, pulling the string that separated the beauty and the beast in this cursed universe.

Granted, you hesitated to cross into the pitch darkness of the abyss, dancing just a few inches from his abode with an armful of trinkets from König. Your slow and steady breath, words you blessed him with when you muttered to him, calling out to know if he was there and your grateful grin were a common, yet welcome sight in his daily swim. While a bit reluctant to join him on the other side, you eventually swam across, your eyes melting into the black before you. You were unseeing as much as you were blind, if not for the guiding palm of the Eldritch creature that you befriended and the shine of treasure you saw around him.

You wished you could see anything but the gleam of treasure and the black mist of the abyss, your hand wandered over his, searching for his body, to feel the one who’s been gifting you treasures. Your fingers trailed upwards, feeling the tightness of his muscles, the curves and hardness of his arms were sinful. You truly wished you could see him at this moment, but you kept at your advance, clawed fingers moving slowly with unbridled curiosity. When you reached his broad shoulders and well-pronounced chest, it rumbled, a purr coming from König. Its deep sound shook you with need, your tail enthusiastically moving back and forth as you listened to him.

“Are you happy, Schatz?”

His voice was even better than his soft purrs, in a way that made you want to melt into his arms and never bother moving if he kept talking to you, the sound of the creature that gave you gifts and affection. König’s spine-chilling voice seemed like a mix of many voices, both soft and raspy, and both deep and smooth, but it was something you enjoyed, that you found yourself liking a bit too much.

“Yes,” you breathed, eyes travelling skyward, towards the source of his voice.

Your breath caught in your throat, choking a gasp at the prettiest blues you’d seen staring down at you. They were majestic, gem-like with a pretty sheen that made them glow like a beacon of light. You wondered why you’d never seen them, seeing how bright his eyes were. They lit up his face, or the veil he wore over his face, showing the pale streak of makeshift tears down the incision he made for his eyes. You shamelessly admired him, unbothered by the lost puppy-like stare you gave him in your glowing beauty.

You’d crossed a threshold, where a creature of light never dared to cross, stepping into the arms of an Old One and embracing their madness. Although you were oblivious to his intentions, the loud proclamation of his courting rituals and attempts of crying out his love - the Old One’s rituals and cultures were much of a mystery to those who didn’t study them, much of a taboo for anyone outside of delusion and greed - he hadn’t refrained from his deliberate show that would be nearly shameful and embarrassing to others of his kind.

Some wouldn’t bother with such frivolous acts: confessions from the deepest part of their dark soul, proclamation of love and undying adoration, or having to scavenge for gifts - offerings - to the subject of their attention. His kind took and took, reaching for that small glimmer of hope and beauty and corrupted it, bending it to their liking and building something from the ashes. It wouldn’t - would never - be the same as they were before, but that was how the Old Ones liked it: control, corruption, ruin, madness and power.

König wouldn’t do that, he wanted to cherish you, add to what you were and watch it bloom like those bioluminescent creatures in the abyss; even against his creator’s wishes. He’ll put you on the highest pedestal he has, eternally imprinting the image of you as his most precious treasure into his mind. You’ll be a thing of miracles, a thing of blessings, a thing of new beginnings. He wanted all and everything with you, but he’d have to take it slow, to coax you into this redundant pattern that ensured your trust and comfort and have you follow him of your own volition.

He doesn’t mind waiting, he’s had hundreds of years of sitting and waiting, patience was a virtue he grew to learn, to hold in his giant palm and clutch like a gift from the ever-growing, chaotic universe. He can wait and plan, so he will, König will lay down his plan and wait until he can bring it to reality.

Wait he did, for you to grow comfortable enough to follow him deeper and let him pull you in from your side. It took you a month of back and forth, squirming around your infatuation with König and exchanging trinkets, words and fleeting kisses with him. He adored your little giggles when he traced your sides with a bolt tentacle, curling under your plush tits and the tip sliding under your strap. He loved the pretty shells you gave him, cleaned from sand and any barnacles, it showed him how much time you spent on it for him. His heart bloomed and swelled to impossible heights when you pecked his lips, giving him shy and gentle kisses that he grew addicted to.

You were so sweet and so soft, your lips the taste of heaven for a creature of madness. Your hands were gentle like a cool balm over a burn, soothing his wild thoughts. Your little gifts for him - reciprocating his affection - were currently the most important things in his cave, a sign of your love and devotion. It made him wonder what would you let him do once you gave yourself to him. Would you succumb to the everlasting pleasures he could give you, or would you demand to help him take care of his own in a mutual haze? He couldn’t help himself, letting his chaotic mind conjure the most absurd and erotic dreams, his body vibrating with excitement; and now, at the peak of your trust in him, he watched his plan - a well-placed trap - come to fruition.

“Come, Schatz,” he beckoned you forward, his burly arm stretching to coax you to follow him, holding out his open palm to you. “I have something I want to show you. Pretty things.”

Without a thought, to question his intentions or to ask why he couldn’t have bought them for you like he usually did, you took his hand and let his fingers curl over yours, intertwining your smaller digits to his as he pulled you to his chest. His embrace was as safe and pleasant as the last one - yesterday - and caused a flurry of emotions to erupt in your chest, he was warm in the cool darkness, loving in all the ways you could think. You could close your eyes and imagine a smile rippling across his face with joyfully squinted eyes peering down at you.

Held against his chest, his other arm wrapped around your waist with a firm squeeze of his hand where your skin turned to scales. He whispered sweet promises, words of encouragement to see the way to his home and excited explanations of what awaited you. Pretty things, he said, you knew what he meant - at least you think you did - you shared much in common, and pretty things were something you both agreed on: shiny metals, interesting trinkets, shimmering shells or finely-minted coins. All things humans valued before throwing away; one man’s trash is another man’s treasure.

How unfortunate that you couldn’t see in the dark, yet how fortunate you wouldn’t know the way back, it was something he relied on heavily to keep you, if you didn’t know how to navigate in this utter blindness, there were no risks of you trying to escape his caring hand. You were smart, you wouldn’t simply venture off without knowing where to go and how to see, especially with how vast his territory was and how dangerous it was. He shared his home with other simple-minded animals, sharks, fishes, eels and any other abyssal creature that lived and depended on the dark to live.

Your innocent curiosity about the things he deemed pretty enough to hoard made his heartbeat, that addicting feeling he got from touching you, kissing you and speaking to you. Even if the deeper he went, the colder it became, you never once complained, your wide eyes and grinning face were the only thing you gave him. He was truly relieved to know that you were patient and understanding of his home, not one hiss or pout while you shook and clung to him, depending on him for warmth. He liked that, to see you rely on him so much.

“We’re here, mein Liebling,” he hushed, cradling your face as he dove down, through the entrance of his cave. He shielded your fragile body with his many arms, protecting you from the rush of water current flowing against him. He chose this one to build his nest, using the strong current as a natural barrier against weaker creatures.

When the waters calmed to a still, he loosened his hold on you, unravelling his arms to let you explore the many passages and alcoves in his home. To accommodate you, he strung up bioluminescent flora, using them as light to find your way around, with silken algae over a few rocks to mimic the beds mers slept in and a few other things that he thought you’d need: a mirror, a few floating plants to add to its mystical beauty and clusters of soft materials in nearly every room.

He let you wander, your tail flapping back and forth to lead you down the long hall and explore the many rooms. He used a room to sleep, one as a pantry and storage, and another one to hold his hoard, but he had a lot of empty and unused space, more than enough for you and your children to thrive. He wanted to let you roam at your own pace, but he had something to show you, something he was proud of making.

He pulled you from your little cloud of joy, wrapping an arm around you, his sticky suckers latching onto you as he coaxed you his way. Only then had you taken the time to admire König under blue light, cheeks warm with a burning flush and doe-like eyes staring at the naked expense of his hard abdomen, stomach sculpted to perfection that had Adonis shying away. His arms were big and round, muscles straining the scarred skin with delicious appeal.

Downwards, following the sharp dip of his navel, were dozens of dark tentacles lined with round, pulsing suckers. Like an octopus, they were covered in a slimy sheen, every limb flexible and able to move independently. The lower ones were thick and soft, acting as a cover for whatever he hid beneath them, while some were thinner, whose source came from under his veil. Those, however, were a mix of normal and horrific tentacles, some had eyes replacing the usual suckers, tinted in the same colour as his irises, that glowing, pale blue.

It made your body heat up, fingers tingling with nerves - or was it? When faced with something you found appealing, it’d be natural to feel flustered, no? König thought so, that’s how he spent the first days reacting to you, heating up to a bothersome flush to everything you did. He watched your awed stare, that daydreaming haze in your eyes when you looked him over, his whole body clear under the gentle light in his cave.

“This way.”

Without making your gaze leave his figure, he drew you in, heading towards his biggest room where he caught and strung everything to fit his pleasure and mood. It was somewhere deeper into the system with walls strong and sturdy, and the round ceiling higher than the other rooms. On one side was a pile of golden objects of all shades, light yellow to a darkish gold, nearly bronze; on the other was a mix of pretty silver things and metallic black objects, rusted by age and the salty ocean; and on another, the smallest of them all, comprised of a few dozens of colourful shells and corals frozen in time that you’d given him.

He saw your chest expand, your smile growing brighter and brighter at the pile of gifts you gave him, your bubbly laugh as you swam towards it, twirling around it proudly. You looked around the room, admiring his large collection and how it seemed to spill down every pile in an attempt to reach the other one, forming a protective ring around your presents, but always coming back to the bright pink, blue and yellow shells. You were happy and appreciative of the time he spent working and arranging his hoard. If he could, he’d preen and purr to you, to show just how much your proud smile meant to him, watching you appraise his work was satisfying.

He already felt like things were falling into place perfectly, he could see the life he had envisioned with you coming to life, the little intricacies that popped into his mind seeming too appealing. His dreams were slowly becoming a reality, the things that he could only imagine were now tangible to his hands, and the future he salivated at was so, so close that he could sink his teeth into its flesh.

He knew it. He knew it when he watched you swim to him with that big, adorable smile on your face, that it was in his hands. He could see it now, how his lonely cave would be filled with life and laughter, children with a mix of your beauty and his madness chasing one another between the many openings and your round, swollen stomach welcoming another of your children to the world. That was all he could think of while he cradled you in his arms, his tentacles latching to your tail and back.

“You’re happy, ja?”

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