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whateveriwant · 3 months

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The 141 getting you to stay in bed

It gets a little spicy towards the end so 18+ please

Soap

Waking up to the feeling of a numb arm is extremely unpleasant, but you suppose it comes with the territory when trying to cuddle 200+ pounds of rugged Scotsman

You manage to free your trapped limb and roll to the other side of the bed, but that space behind you remains empty for only about three seconds before Johnny's pressing himself flat to your back

Now with his arms around your waist, he holds you tight to him, mumbling unintelligibly against the back of your head

He drifts back to sleep quickly enough, his grip on you starting to loosen, only for it to tighten again when he feels you try to wriggle out of his hold

The incoherent grumbles from his throat grow increasingly displeased the more you try to shift away from him, until finally he huffs a grumpy, “Quit it,” into your scalp, hooking his leg over yours

If you still don't listen, he'll have no choice but to take drastic measures to keep you still. Fed up with your squirming, he simply rolls on top of you, pinning you to the mattress below him

You can try beating on his back, telling him that you can't breathe, but he just shrugs and says, “Use my breath.”

Don't even bother trying to explain how oxygen doesn't work like that, because he doesn't care. “Tough,” he mumbles into the crook of your neck. “‘Cause I'm no' movin’.” And by extension, neither are you

Gaz

Kyle is also a stage 5 clinger, but he's less boa constrictor and more baby koala

So when your alarm goes off at 8am precisely, it's no surprise that the man behind you grumbles in protest

“It's Saturday,” he bemoans. “Why you getting up so bloody early?” When you tell him you like to keep your routine even on the weekends, he just groans and mutters, “Five more minutes.”

You can try to squirm and wrestle out of his hold, but he'll just tighten his arm around your midsection, keeping his front firmly glued to your back

But you need to get up! You have to pee for goodness’ sake!

“Use the empty bottle on your nightstand,” he mumbles into your hair, peeking an eye open as you crane to look back at him. The look you give him at such a horrid suggestion has him sighing. “Alright, fine,” he relents and releases you. “But be quick. Bed gets cold without you.”

Once you've answered the call of nature, don't be surprised to find Kyle waiting for you directly outside the bathroom. He's wrapped up in your comforter like an oversized burrito, only his face and feet visible as they peek out from under the plush cover

With a sleepy pout, he holds his hand out for you, tugging you back to bed with him. Oh, he’ll make sure you get those five more minutes alright. Even if he has to drag you kicking and screaming

Ghost

First of all, don't even kid yourself into thinking you'll stand a chance of waking up before him or sneaking out of bed without him knowing. This man is the epitome of a light sleeper, whenever he does sleep, that is

So when you do finally wake up, it comes as no surprise to see Simon already up too. But just because you're both awake now doesn't mean you have to immediately be productive; quite the opposite, in fact

With how busy and stressed he is all the time, Simon loves nothing more than to just lie in bed with you and do nothing for hours

If you try to get up, he's stopping you with a gentle hand on your wrist, his voice quiet but firm as he commands, “Stay.”

You'll lay back down for a bit to appease him, but it won't be long before you feel guilty since you have so many things you should be doing instead

But actually, no, you don't have anything to worry about. He's already taken care of everything before you woke up, he humbly informs you

The cat's been fed, the bin’s been taken out to the curb, he's even gotten your breakfast typed up on his phone – just give him the word and he'll place the order

So now when he opens his arms for you, having you bury your face in his chest, you've got nothing to worry about except savoring this moment with him

Price

John is also a very light sleeper, so it only takes .02 seconds of you trying to stand from the bed for his bear-like snores to cease and his eyes to flit wide open

He'll grab you by the shirt hem, mumbling, “Where’re y’ goin’?” But it doesn't really matter what your answer is because his response is always the same: “No y’r not.” And pulls you back down. “Y’r stayin’ right here.”

He'll lie on his stomach, face smushed in the pillow, a big, warm hand tucked under your shirt resting against your belly

With nothing better to do, you scroll through your phone, catching up on your socials, the news, etc., but it's not long before you hear him grumble, “Put that away, will ya? ‘S too early to be meltin’ your brain with that thing.”

Well, what does he expect you to do? Lie there and stare at the ceiling for an hour? “Expect you to be good,” he tells you. “Don't make me get the handcuffs out again.”

Now that you have to laugh at. If he thinks it's too early to be on your phone, it's definitely too early for that

He smirks, opening his eye just a sliver, and the hand on your stomach begins to rub soft circles. “Is that so?” he taunts, his touch sneakily edging downwards. And when he slips beneath the band of your shorts, well…

Let's just say you're not leaving that bed anytime soon

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suguann · 2 months

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✎. simon will do this, if it makes johnny feel better.

tags. fem!reader, established relationship (simon/reader), threesome, double penetration in one hole, slight size kink, dirty talk [18+ only]

featuring. simon, soap

masterlist

Simon doesn’t share, but he makes an exception this time after his best friend’s date is a no-show, and he isn’t heartless enough to let Johnny hang out at the pub alone. Anybody will tell you: he can be a real nice guy when he wants to be.

And you don’t mind the extra company or another mouth to feed, that the flowers in the vase you put on the counter were meant for someone else, how Johnny gets flirty after his fourth beer, or—

“Fuck, love,” Simon grunts into your shoulder when he finally eases his cock into you beside Johnny’s. “I guess you can take it like a champ, after all.”

But you hardly hear him over the sound of your heart pounding in your ears and the creaky mattress below your knees.

Johnny thumbs away your tears while you tremble above him, cupping your face to pull you into a kiss so you have something to focus on other than the feeling of being split down the middle—it takes an extra amount of effort not to clench down when you already feel like you’re about to break in two.

“Look at you,” Johnny mumbles against your lips. “Never thought you’d really let me do this.”

Then he pulls out, slick heat gripping him the whole way, and pushes deeper inside, punching a shaky breath out of you.

He and Simon are in perfect sync, keeping you full while the other drags his cock out, only to fill you up again. It’s almost embarrassing how wet you are—at how much you like it—a hazy cloud settling over you as they use you for their pleasure.

Because Johnny’s sad, and you have a thing for making people happy.

Simon sucks little possessive marks into your shoulder and across your spine, murmuring filthy praise against your skin that consists of “sweetest and tightest pussy, my perfect little fucktoy” and “so fucking pretty.”

“That’s it.” Johnny’s voice is low and strained, barely heard above the loud squelching between your legs, but he sighs it into your mouth as he slowly comes apart. “Fuck—ah—you feel so good.”

A hand dips between you to press against your belly, where you can feel them, hot and heavy against your walls, making you squeal as a little ball of warmth travels down to your toes and all the way to the tips of your fingers. Simon fists your hair, tugging you away from Johnny so you’re looking up at him upside down.

“So greedy that you needed two cocks to fill this soft little cunt, huh?”

You whine, unable to form an actual response outside of a few jumbled syllables, but a slap against your ass makes you whisper a shuddered yes.

He tells you to open your mouth before he spits onto your awaiting tongue, some of it hitting your cheek. When you swallow obediently, he smears what doesn’t make it across your lips with the thick pad of his thumb.

“Don’t forget who you belong to,” he sneers, at odds with the soft way he kisses your cheek and reverently chokes on your name. Neither of you hear Johnny groaning under you as you clench down hard at the possessiveness in his voice—because at the feel of his wedding band pressing against your throat like a brand, how can you forget?

Simon doesn’t share, but this, he’ll do. Just this once because you’re already his, and he wants Johnny to know what it’s like to have a woman like you.

#simon riley smut #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley imagine #simon riley x reader #simon ghost x reader #ghost x reader #ghost smut #ghost imagine #cod smut #cod imagine #cod x reader #mw2 x reader #mw2 smut #mw2 imagine #soap x reader #soap smut #john mctavish x reader #.things i write

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theywhowriteandknowthings · 11 days

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Napping with Captain John Price

My blog is 18+ minors DNI

No warnings, allusions to smut but nothing hefty. Price is a sleepy idiot.

Price sleeps like the dead, so clear your schedule if you’re planning on napping with him. No alarm will rouse him, no tactfully placed elbow shall wake him. One nap lasted four hours and you missed your dinner reservations, and you lost the feeling in your right hand for an hour afterwards.

Nap with the Captain at your own peril.

But you’ve never been good at taking your own advice.

You rouse slowly, a great weight pressing you into the mattress makes your breath hitch. John’s face is pressed between your breasts, his hot breath tickling your skin as he sleeps peacefully above you.

“John,” you groan as you try and shift the half-naked man from atop you, but it’s no use. You look up at the ceiling and let out a frustrated sigh. Your phone is just out of reach as you stretch out to try and grab it.

“John, come on,” you whine and try to wiggle under him, but you’re pinned, completely immobile as he smothers you from the chest down.

“Sleeping,” he grunts, making your skin vibrate at the low timbre of his voice, “Go back to sleep.”

“Come on, I’m hungry,” you protest as you shove at his broad shoulders, but it only serves to encourage him to nuzzle his face into your breast once more.

“Five more minutes,” he bargains, before humming happily as he presses a soft kiss to your clothed chest.

“You’re incorrigible,” you grumble as you scrape the nails of your free hand along his scalp.

A soft “hmmm” is all you get in response as John is drawn back into the deep dark abyss of sleep.

You stretch a little further to try and grab your phone, but still, it’s just out of reach.

You smile to yourself in exasperation, you know you’re going to wake up in five hours to a disorientated and – very likely – horny man.

Might as well get some sleep yourself.

It’s going to be a long night.

“Just resting my eyes” (Napping with Ghost) Napping with Soap Napping with Gaz Napping with König CoD Masterlist

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shotmrmiller · 3 months

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09 wife jealous of how obsessed Johnny is with his girl, takes it out on 22 Ghosts and he fucks the attitude out of herrrrr and throws in one I love you that holds her off for the next hundred years

my.

god.

yesysyeesyeyseyes

ok ok. can this just be multiverse ch 4? im feeling inspired. ch4 everyone i like this.

You are so happy for your friend, truly. But goddamn, if it doesn't sting seeing Johnny just embrace her, accept her love for what it is when Simon has been fighting you tooth and nail over your feelings.

It comes to head when everyone's in the lounge and Johnny looks at his wife with so much adoration in his eyes, and he plants a kiss on the corner of his wife's mouth.

You're lurching out of your chair so fast it tips over behind you— almost jogging back to your shared quarters with Ghost.

A couple of minutes later, there's a knock on the door.

Damn. It must be Soap's wife.

You're opening the door with an apology already on your lips when you realize it is definitely not her.

"Why are you knocking?" you sneer. "It doesn't matter, what're you doing here?"

Simon just stares at you, and you bite your lip to prevent yourself from saying something you might regret.

"Let me in, pet."

Oh, so he can speak in a neutral tone.

With an aggravated sigh, you step aside and turn around, giving him your back. You won't cry again. Or at least try your best to not cry again.

The door softly clicks shut and you begin to feel like he's just pushed you into a corner.

"Look at me," he mutters.

He's definitely cornered you.

You don't turn around as you answer him. "Why, Simon? So you can continue to look at me like I'm worth nothing? Like I'm—" Your words turn to ash on your tongue because Simon's suddenly standing behind you, encircling his arms around your waist.

That starts the waterworks.

You spin to face him, returning his embrace. "Why do you hate me? I didn't choose to be here. I've never wanted to be a burden to you." Simon tightens his hold on you, pressing his cheek on the top of your head.

"I've never hated you."

"Well, that's news to me, isn't it?" you shakily snarked. You couldn't help it; your heart had taken enough of a beating.

He tips your head up with his hand under your chin, and you take in a sharp breath. He took his mask off.

Simon's as handsome as you remember. His lips are a soft, rosy pink. The bisected left eyebrow, the silverly long, thin scar on his upper lip, the crooked nose, even the bloody stubble— all of it the same.

And his cheeks are flush, with life.

"I don't hate you, love. How could I when you're my wife?" he breathed.

His wife. He called you his wife. His wife.

Simon gently lowers his head, and you rise to your toes, and when your lips meet, there's a switch in you that's flipped. The kiss turns hungry almost instantly, and you're moaning embarrassingly into his mouth, but you don't care. You don't fucking care.

He tastes the same, he even sounds the same when you suck on his tongue lightly. He's gruffer here, but he's still yours. And now you're going to take what's yours.

You start to fumble at his clothes, because why won't they just come off fast enough? Simon chuckles into the kiss and with his help, you're both swiftly naked.

His body is radiating heat, scalding under your touch. When you wrap your hand around his heavy cock, the groan you swallow is so lewd that it has you squeezing your thighs together in anticipation.

Breaking away, you roam your eyes over his bare body before pushing him back with a hand on his chest. He lays back on his mattress, and you waste no time in straddling his hips and lining him up with your slit.

Simon's hands up to grab your waist, and chokes out, "Wait, you don't need me to—" and he doesn't get to finish because you've got the tip of his head in you already.

"Another time, tomorrow, yesterday, whenever you want just not right now. I need to feel you inside of me." That's the only warning he gets before you slowly start to sink down onto him, slick cunt spreading open for him beautifully— moaning loudly when his head kisses the entrance of your womb.

Oh, you've missed this. Yeah, you've missed Simon too but this... he slots himself where only he could ever fit— like it was made for him. And you have no doubt in your mind that you were, in fact, made for him.

You place your hands on his chest and start to ride him, keeping it slow because you want to savor every second, memorize how he looks like in bliss. Your pace stays the same, a gentle up-down when you feel his grip tighten around your waist. Simon's biting his bottom lip, his molten eyes are locked onto where you take him in, and he's starting to tremble.

He's about to come.

You quickly rearrange yourself to be on your feet and start to fuck yourself onto his twitching cock. Now he's groaning loudly, sonorous noise from deep within his chest, and you angle your hips forward slightly— taking him even deeper.

Your body is slick with sweat, hair matted on your forehead from the exercise, and Simon starts to thrust himself up into you as you come down— now fucking you in turn.

His fingers are painfully digging into your soft flesh, when he looks up into your eyes, mumbling, "Kiss me, oh god, f-fuck, kiss me please."

How could you say no to that?

You rearrange your feet at his sides and lean down to slant your lips over his, but he gets impatient, pulling you down strongly— teeth clacking against his, but the slight pain is overridden when his thrusts start to turn choppy, brutal. It's so familiar that you pull away, your words spill from your lips unbidden.

"I love you."

He grunts as he comes inside of you, coating your slick walls with his essence, and you kiss him again, languidly this time.

Simon's head falls back onto his pillow, and he rubs your waist as he tries to catch his breath. You try to rest your head on his chest when he stops you with a hand to your sternum.

"You didn't finish," he asserts.

Of all the things... "No, Simon, I'm more than satisfied with..." you quietly moan when he begins to lower his hand until he's at your mons and uses his own cum to make the pad of his thumb slippery— rubbing tight, precise circles on your neglected clit.

He plays you like an instrument, and your walls are fluttering around his softening cock in minutes.

When your thighs begin to shake around him, he pulls you down with a hand to the back of your head and whispers against your lips what you've been waiting to hear all this time.

You climax to his words.

"I love you too."

Johnny gapes at Simon the next day, because his demeanor is vastly different to the usual surly.

"Ye slept with her, didn't ye?"

A tsk. "None of your business, Johnny."

"Ye did! About damn time, if ye ask me."

Simon doesn't rebuke that. You were another's' but now you're his. Only his.

And he's never letting you go.

#call of duty #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x f reader #simon ghost riley x reader #cod mw2 #multiverse cod #simon riley x reader #cod mwii #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley smut #simon ghost riley x you

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chrollohearttags · 4 months

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random firefighter!ace headcanons (while I finish this fic!)

warnings: nothing too bad! some fluffiness and silly!ace, a few nsfw things under the cut, alcohol mentions, food mentions

firefighter!ace is surprisingly a neat freak. At least around the firehouse..he does weekly inspections and is very meticulous about how the equipment is stored. He has his own little system and everything. (his apartment is another story though!)

firefighter!ace thinks he is the appointed cook in the firehouse. Mans throws down in the kitchen and will make enough to feed an army. (he’s half Filipino in my head idc idc) so he cooks a lot of Asian fusion dishes, recipes passed down from his mom and family and yes, he insists on making them for (y/n) too on ‘date’ nights.

firefighter!ace is a CLOWN and a half. He keeps everybody in high spirits, especially after a rough call. Dancing, playing music, cracking jokes, playing cards..he will never let his team stay down for too long! (hc that he loves Bad Bunny, J Balvin and a lil bit of dancehall 🤭.) went to the club with (y/n) once and you were shocked when you started whining on him and he knew what to do with it!

firefighter!ace keeps teddy bears and dolls in the fire truck in case there are children at the scene and he always rushes to comfort them.

firefighter!ace spends his days off hiking, camping, running and doing a bunch of nature-centric activities. He loves the outdoors and wants to share that passion with you! He gets sooo excited when you agree to go on a hike with him up to this canyon he’s trekked a few times, surprised when you beat him up there. “You’re really good at this, rookie. You can run more than your mouth.” “Nah, I just wanted to kick your ass, that’s all.”

firefighter!ace is an animal lover. He has two cats and the firehouse dog is his literal son. He pets random animals whilst out at the park and will come over to your apartment just to ignore you and play with your kittens! “Anyways, I’m not here for you. I came to see my daughter, thank you.” 😭

firefighter!ace is the life of the party and that even gets worse when he drinks. He can handle his liquor pretty well so he doesn’t fall all over the place but he is way too lively when he’s drunk!

firefighter!ace does have a bit of a fashion game. He and his brother are sneaker heads and collect them so his closet is filled with all sorts of shoes. He has more a rustic, indie/hippy aesthetic but he dresses really nice when he needs to.

firefighter!ace loves the idea of sneaking around the firehouse with you. Getting in quickies with the very little free time and privacy you have. Covering your mouth as he gets you up against the wall in the bunks. “C’mon, rookie. We only have a few minutes, don’t get us caught.”

firefighter!ace is a back kisser, neck licker and suck toes. He’s so attentive and loving when you guys do get your alone time. Especially when you’ve had an attitude all week and he knows what you need. He will give you the slowest strokes while looking deep in your eyes and prone bone because he doesn’t want you doing any of the work. “Is this what you wanted, baby? Needed me stretch you out? Should’ve just said that from the beginning.”

firefighter!ace lovesssss showering together. Not just for the sexual aspect but the intimacy of it. Touching and feeling every inch of your skin, kissing you real slow underneath falling water and holding your face. Seeing your skin all lathered up in soap and just admiring every inch of your body. “You’re so soft..I love it.”

firefighter!ace gets so intense and passionate, becoming a little possessive..fucking you like it’s the last time after extremely dangerous calls. If there was an instant where your life has been in danger or he was scared of losing you, he all but puts you through the mattress, making you whimper and claw at the sheets as you scream his name. He cries into your neck/shoulder, just confessing his feelings. “You’re mine..you got that? Don’t you ever scare me again.”

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ave661 · 5 months

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Hiiiiiii 👋😙

With all the lovely dad!Ghost renders you graced us with, can i ask if you have any headcanons for them? Can never get enough of Ghost having a family he never got to have as a kid. I just wanna hug him frfr okay I'm done babbling 😭🫶🫶🤍

Helloooo! ♥ Ok, so this is interesting ask! Some of my renders are random, but some have a story

Simon forgot to take off his balaclava. Child saw it on him and by the time he realized, it was already too late. He expected baby to cry, be afraid of him and not recognize their dad, but when they didn't and even got interested, he got emotional. Maybe he realized that Ghost wasn't just a soldier and even he became a father - not just Simon.

He wanted to introduce his baby to "Ghost". Wants little one not to be afraid of him and to know what their father does for a living

I imagine him as a dad who likes to chill with his kid in living room. Maybe he turns something on TV and waits for them to fall asleep, and when they do, he closes his eyes for a moment and eventually they both end up snoring

Riley's first introduction to his baby. Simon was afraid of dog's reaction, but baby wanted to give Riley a toy. They definitely liked each other and became friends.

These are either before or after mission - last hug or a warm hello. Maybe his partner wanted to surprise him and came to the base with their baby to welcome him?

Now some of my random dad!Ghost canons! >.<

10000000000% girl dad

he certainly never planned to have children, due to his own traumas and dangerous job, so having them was by an accident for sure.

feeling first kick, seeing a baby bump or ultrasound made something "click" in him

once he becomes a father, he is overprotective and wants to provide child with a safe and calm environment, which he never had

delicate and distant at the beginning. He doesn't think he deserves a family, and if he does have one, he's afraid of losing it.

he is action and giving type of person. A new swing in the garden? Installed in a few hours. Repair a broken toy or paint walls in new color? Done. Take baby to the doctor? You can count on him at any time. This is his love language.

grumpy type with a dad humor. Always has a lame joke up his sleeve

at the same time, as the child grows up, he also learns what it means to show love for them as a father. So only with time he starts to feel comfortable hugging his baby, playing with them, etc.

once he gets it, oh boy, he throws this kid all over the place while playing. Yes, he is the type of father who throws his child on the mattress and pretends to play WWE

have you seen this photo of Chris Hemsworth where he holds his kid by leg on a beach? Yes, this is Simon

or wraps them up like a burrito in a blanket and watch them struggle with smile on his face. The best way to tire them out, so it's a win for everyone if they fall asleep faster!

but he also likes to watch cartoons with them and cuddle (falls asleep after a few minutes)

he does THIS a lot

his kid/s definitely color his tattoos. And no, he doesn't wash them off. He's very proud of them. Definitely shows them to Soap.

seeing blood during a mission in his life was nothing compared to changing baby's diaper. Avoids it like the plague.

definitely did a fake tea party once. Little plastic chair broke under his weight.

has a lot of vids and pics on his phone of every possible situation of what his child is doing - sleeps, eats, talks, plays, smiles.... Once in a while shows them to 141

but he definitely likes photos where baby is sleeping the most. Because then he sees their calm expression and it gives him a sense of peace and fulfillment

#simon ghost riley #dad!ghost #dw I still have a few ideas for dad!ghost renders up my sleeve :*

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vanderilnde · 2 months

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world stopped when #that gym vid went live. i blacked out and woke up with this in my drafts. dont remember a thing. enjoy.

cw for dubcon smut, breaking and entering, soap dragging you across the ground, fleeting knifeplay, and greasy ex bf soap!!!!!!

You wake in a daze.

Your mouth is hot and clammy, tongue sticking to the roof of your mouth. Your eyelashes are glued together with sleep, your underarms perspiry and the skin of your back dewy.

It’s the baby monitor that stirred you. Languidly capitalising off your motherly instincts, thinly crackling and humming and rousing you awake. When you reorient, the indistinct, enigmatic shadow in the corner of your room turns into a pile of undone laundry. You rub your eyes, hackles raised, as the baby rustles, her fussing carrying through the monitor, tinny and jangling as she whines.

You swing your legs over the mattress, and her whines ripen into giggles. They’re high-pitched and brayed, accompanied by her clapping hands. She’s squealing while you edge into your slippers, wrapping your arms around your slip dress, padding into the corridor.

Your eyes are too unfocused and filmy to notice the telltale signs. Your panties missing from your hamper, your closet open and forged. The lockbox where you keep your pistol pulled from under your bed and unlatched. Empty.

You turn the corner to your daughter’s room and freeze. There’s a glow spilling from it, into the hall. It’s her owl-themed nightlight, soft and moulded around a pair of kevlar-plated shoulders. Outlining a clunky chest rig and a heavy belt. Longer hair, curled at its ends and flat with sweat. The shadow of a knife. The steel of a gun.

It’s the reaper himself, and he’s made his way into your home.

Your mind wrestles between attacking him and sneaking away to call the police. He’s a harvester of life, a macabre memory unheralded and in the middle of your house, but your baby is, at least, safe with him. Stronger than the scythe he carries—his own flesh and blood. You peel your feet off the floor and creep backwards, fleet-footed and rushing down the stairs and into your kitchen, working your way around furniture in the dark. You don’t turn on the light, don’t want to run the risk, so you bump into the lip of your counter, reaching over it and grasping the landline.

It’s bulky in your hand. Almost slips out with how sweaty your palms are, with how you scramble to dial the police.

But you feel him before you see him.

It’s like echolocation. He’s using his skill, you know, to sneak up behind you. Capitalising off whatever he learned in the military to soften his feet and prowl behind you. It’s his breathing that’s low and rumbling, reflecting off your spine, rolling like thunder.

It’s now, you remember, that Johnny is an ambush predator.

He leans over you before you hit the dial, smashing the hang-up button. A long honk succeeds it and precedes deafening silence.

Your lips warble. You clutch the phone to your chest, quivering, and steel yourself. “How did you get in?”

Johnny chuckles, and it rumbles against your spine. Through the silk canopy of your slip dress and into your bone.

“Wore this for me?” He ignores your question. Noses the strap of your slip so it curls like a wisp of hair off your shoulder. “Y’know I love this colour on ye.”

“I want you to leave, Jonathan.”

He spins you around. Bullies you back and cuts the hind of your spine into your countertop. He looks rugged and stinks of sulfur, like he came straight from downrage, and chucks your slip over your hips, kneading your flesh.

“Ye can’t keep me from my bairn,” Johnny mumbles. He wraps his arms around you like a serpentine, licking a belt up your neck. “We’re in this together. Isn’t fair of ye t’hide from me.”

“You’re sick in the head,” you sneer.

Johnny’s cheeks engorge around a malformed, gnarled grin. He feeds off your disgust, a flayed moan ripping from his throat, as he reaches down to palm his cock.

“Say it again,” he huffs. “Tell me how sick I am, hen.”

You draw your hand back and swing it across Johnny’s face in rash judgement. He stumbles back in shock, his cheek burning with a ruddy hue beneath the peppery hair of his beard. He blinks, catatonic, and rubs his face. The silence is ear-splitting. Like the calm before the storm.

Then, you’re free-falling. Johnny grips you by your hair and pulls you to the floor. It’s now, you realise, that you’ve gravely miscalculated his strength. His calibre of ruthlessness as he forcefully tugs you along, heedless if your shins bump into the corner walls or grate against the carpet. He pulls you outside, over the wide-combed, lightly-pitted brick of your driveway, towards his scrap metal pickup truck that’s been eaten away by yellow rust and dog-eared bumper stickers.

The hem of your silk slip turns threadbare as you’re dragged across the ground. You shiver as the cold air furls over the wet smudge he’d licked up your neck. You consider yelling into the night. For help, for atonement, to right whatever wrong you’ve done to deserve this. To deserve him. But Johnny slaps a palm over your mouth before you’re able to do anything. His hand is so big, splaying over the expanse of your face.

This, you suppose, is your penance.

The door to his truck rasps as he swings it open. He throws you inside with a dull thud and awkwardly clobbers in behind you, too big for the door, his stature exemplified with all his clunky tactical gear.

He sinks his knees into the pleather bench seat, grinning as if he’s done nothing wrong.

“Dinnae mind the mess, hen,” he laughs. There’s mud-clogged boots thrown on the bed floor, a couple of plastic water bottles littered around the front. “Wasnae expectin’ you ta put up a fight.”

Johnny shucks his jeans to his boots, followed by his boxers. His cock springs out, long and hard and lazy against his navel as he leans back, languidly stroking it.

He smooches your cheek, and his beard—something he’d grown recently—is spindly like steel wool, dragging against the hull of your ear.

“Did I pull ye too hard?” Johnny asks. His concern is masked with a colour of arousal, lukewarm and lacking in conviction. “Dinna fash yerself, I’ll pay for yer salon appointment.”

When you plaintively sniffle, Johnny starts jerking off faster. Meaner. His fist tightly winded around his cock, his cheeks pink and his puppy lips parted open. His lashes fluttering as his eyes roll back, every sigh and gasp out of him materialising as off-white smoke in the cold tract of his truck.

The sticky sound of Johnny rolling his palm over his raw cock is too much. Precum drools over him, between his thighs, indigo and pearlescent in the moonlight. Your eyes are dewy but your pussy is swelling. It clings to your panties, as hot as it is uncomfortable.

“No need to be a minter,” he pants. Releases his dick with a pinch and lets it hang, reaching out to you. His slick, big hand swallows your flinch and pulls you close. Fishes the combat knife from his pocket, twisting it in the light. “I’ll help you, Birdy.”

Johnny slips the knife below the band of your slip dress. He tilts it up, slicing the strap over the steeple of his knife, letting it curl off your body and reveal your breasts, your tits goose-fleshed in the frigid air of his truck.

He takes it upon himself to repeal that. Johnny leans forward and latches his lips around you, flicking his tongue around your nipple, kneading your other breast with his opposite hand. He doesn’t stop going back and forth until you try peeling him off, squirming, trying to push him away.

Johnny’s as sturdy as a steel wall. He chuckles, low and hollow, and pulls off his gloves, snaking his hand lower. Towards your pussy that radiates an unwelcomed, pulsing heat. Johnny’s fingers are deft and hardened, splitting you open like a fleshy fruit, coaxing out your honeyed juices, fingering around for that sweet spot. He grins when you writhe, and he knows he’s found it. Knuckle-deep and deeply-seated in your warm cunt, curling his fingers, pushing the heel of his palm into your clit and sinking himself deeper.

You wildly flail your legs like a deflated balloon trying to fly away. It’s to tame a feral animal as Johnny pins you down, crawling over you, his fingers sinking deeper and the pad of his thumb circling your clit. You preen with embarrassment at the sticky, wet sound of your cunt spreading open.

“Just as tight fo’ me,” he mumbles. His words melt through your lips and into your lungs. Burns you from the inside out. “Didn’t shag anyone while I was gone? Kept yerself sweet for me?”

A sob wracks your ribs. It prompts Johnny to go a little deeper, a little meaner, in how he curls his fingers into your walls. Your sticky spine peels off the pleather seats, shiny with sweat and shaking, and suddenly, Johnny pulls out. You feel yourself crash into nothing, your winking hole stretched empty and cold. Your thighs, quivering.

“How about ye gimme another, eh?” He says. Lifts you up like you weigh nothing and drops you onto his thighs. Lines his fat cockhead up with your clit, gives it a few, irritable taps. “Always wanted a hoachin’ family.”

Johnny tries to ram it in, you think, but he’s too thick. It requires time and patience, squeezing into you, but those are two things Johnny doesn’t have. It feels like you’re being flayed as Johnny slams himself into you. He shatters you as he pushes himself deeper, his hold on your waist breaking your skin, his hips ripening into a bruising, splitting pace. Johnny rubs his tongue along the round of his cheek and spits on your cunt. It slips down, over your clit, frothy around the base of his cock.

Sweat travels down the coils of his beard, dripping onto you. You’re folded in half as Johnny batters into you, pounding you with a lack of inhibition. He chases after his orgasm like a dog chases after its own tail, the stretch of your pussy around his cock so stifling it flares into a sweeping pleasure.

He reaches down and blindly swipes your clit. It’s sloppy. The dead, rough skin of his thumb pressing down on your bud and tracing circles with a slap-happy hand. It’s a disgusting mix of stickiness and squelches. The windows fog up, and your legs tremble. Johnny’s hips slam into you sharper, and you feel your orgasm shivering like a gurgling kettle. Hot to the touch and almost at your climax, expelling white hisses of steam.

It rockets into you without warning. You’re scratching and crying, and he’s rolling into you. Slowly, as if that’ll sink him deeper, as he gives you his come. Thick, white ropes that paint your walls and plant a seed. You gush around him and Johnny peppers you with kisses as if that will placate you. As if that’s his cobbled together, screwed up idea of penance.

He lets his cock soften in you. Johnny rests his head on your shoulder, kissing it. He slips out and a thick, shapeless wad of come follows suit. Sticking to the pleather of his seats, leaving you empty.

Johnny collapses, falling on you like a dog that doesn’t know how big it is. Feels for the come that slips out of you and uses his fingers to stuff it back in.

“Left the door unlocked agin,” he mumbles. “Guess ya wanted me to find ya, ye ken, Birdy?”

#johnny mactavish x reader #soap mactavish smut #soap mactavish x reader #cod mw2 #soap/reader #soap mactavish #john soap mactavish

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cyberchronics · 2 months

Text

・。.・゜✭・.・✫..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

choso kamo + make up sex ♡

★ cunnilingus as an apology, choso is an eater, bed humping, no power dynamics ★

✩∘₊ ✩*✯☆⃟⃟⃟✯*✩₊∘✩

choso doesn't get into arguments with you. he's always patient with you, staying quiet even when he knows you're wrong and fixing things behind your back to make sure you won't get upset. for you, he's willing to keep his temper under control. but that isn't to say he never slips

it's never intentional. but sometimes after a long day, his will crumbles and he accidentally lashes out. the harsh words taste like poison as he spits them, and when you mumble out a soft apology before slinking away instead of yelling back it's as if his heart is being torn out.

he always regrets it. emotions are still a bit hard on him, making him unable to find the right words no matter how hard he tries. but there is another way… and actions always speak louder than words, right? why would he spend days trying to come up with a semi-decent apology when he can say sorry and make both of you feel better at the same time?

eating you out all night long is just the sensible solution. it's what any rational person would do, curse or otherwise.

∘₊ ✧───────────────────✧₊∘

It's late when Choso slips into your shared bedroom. He had spent the last twenty minutes trying to make himself forget about the way he overreacted, cringing internally as the scene of him blowing up at you for the tiniest thing replays once more. Such a stupid thing to get upset over, yet he still made you get that sad look on your face and hole yourself up in the room. At least he has a foolproof method to make everything better.

He's always quiet at night, but when he's focused on making you feel good he practically goes non-verbal. Slender fingers pull back the blanket, massaging your thighs gently to gauge if you even want his touch. A smile pulls at the corner of his mouth when you spread your legs slightly, sitting up slightly to catch a glimpse of him.

“Relax.” The low voice is accompanied by a squeak of the mattress, the sound echoing through the room as he settles between your legs. “Let me make it up to you.” Choso pulls at your hands as he kisses up the soft skin of your thighs, squeezing them just hard enough to get your attention and placing them on his head. He's gentle yet firm in his actions, kissing and biting at it until your hips buck down towards him.

As if that wasn't enough to remind him just how much you love this position, the way your lacy panties start to dampen gives you away. He presses his lips to your puffy clit through your underwear, teasing you momentarily before pulling them to the side without a care.

Being face to face with your shiny cunt makes him feel dizzy. You smell like his favorite soap, filling his nose with floral sweetness and drawing him in more and more. It doesn't take long for him to commit fully and lean it, pressing sloppy kisses to your cunt.

He's always been a messy eater. Pressing his face into you, spreading your juices over his face without a care, and using his thumb to coax out even more of that sweet nectar. Those skilled hands know just how to make you feel good, thick tongue bullying its way inside of you and bringing you to the edge of orgasm in no time.

Choso clearly feels it too, his hips rolling against the rough mattress for friction and soft moans sending vibrations up your spine. “On my tongue.” He chants quietly, pulling your legs over his shoulder and burying himself against your soft pussy. “Want to taste you.” The precum making a stain in his pants doesn't matter. All he's focused on is when you finally let him hear that distinct whine he's blessed with every time he manages to push you over the edge.

That rough tongue eagerly laps up your cum, not wasting a drop even as you arch off the bed and squeeze his head with your thighs like you're trying to kill him. By the time you manage to catch your breath, Choso looks ruined. He rests his chin on your stomach with his ponytails barely holding up anymore, his face shining with the proof of your love and a pleased look on his face.

There's a moment of silence as you make eye contact, basking in the post-orgasm haze together before he lets his hair down and reorganizes it into a messy bun. His eyes return to your own, giving you a telling grin before he pulls your legs over his shoulders.

He still hasn't finished apologizing to you. It's a good thing the night is still young, isn't it?

・。.・゜✭・.・✫..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

a/n: everytime I can talk about this man giving head I will... you don't understand how special he is to me :333 // next fic will be up next week, a fun little multipost ive had on the brain

#jjk x reader #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #kamo choso #choso kamo #choso x reader #jjk choso #jujutsu kaisen choso #pushing the eater choso agenda #i don't think u understand how in depth I've thought about this

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empresskylo · 1 year

Text

Again...

no plot, just ghost sneaking into your room at night to force you to orgasm without taking your clothes off.

a/n: this idea was literally taken from the book i was reading lmao. anyways, have some visual treats of ghost in sweatpants.

cw: smut, dub-con

simon "ghost" riley x afab!reader

wc: 1.6k+

masterlist

𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐔𝐓

Ghost had been staring you down more than usual lately, making you shiver under his watchful eyes. He looked like he wanted to eat you whole.

You felt him brush against you after your last meeting and your whole body went hot. He must have noticed your shock because you could see his eyes squint in a smile. You felt your breath get lost in your throat when Ghost lifted you up during training, his hands lingering far too long on your waist.

And so you were startled when you felt his body slip into the bed behind you. You turned your head and saw Ghost as he snuggled in against your back, spooning you.

“Ghost,” you said exasperated. “What’re you doing?” You hissed.

“Soap’s snoring was driving me crazy.”

“So your solution was to come to my bed?” You asked flustered. He had never actually made a move like this on you. He simply just fucked you with his eyes. His arms draped around your waist and you got goosebumps. “Your beds’ warm,” he cooed, his breath hot on your neck. You could smell the whiskey.

“Any bed with a blanket is warm, Lt.” Your voice stuttered, and that only made Ghost grin in arrogance.

“Been dying to feel you,” he mumbled against your shoulder. You gulped as he pulled you into him, your body flat against his, his cock unmistakably hard and digging into your ass. Your voice wavered, “Ghost.” God, what was he doing? You wanted to kick him out of your bed, and yet your voice was getting lost in your throat as his hands groped you. You shut your eyes momentarily as Ghost’s hands traced along your stomach, then over your thighs. One of his hands grabbed your breast through your sleep shirt and you shook yourself out of your daze. “You shouldn’t be in my bed!” You whispered harshly.

He hummed against your neck, his mask brushing your skin. “You really want me to leave, yeah?” His hand squeezed your thigh while his other pinched your nipple between his fingers. “Y-Y-Yes,” you fumbled, your head leaning back against him in pleasure.

“Sure doesn’t seem like it,” he teased. His hand snaked to your crotch, his hand cupping your pussy and his fingers digging into your clothed entrance. You yelled. “Why don’t you ride my fingers, pet.”

You groaned, “No. This-It’s not appropriate.” You snarled.

His fingers began to move against you to get you started and you gasped. Your hands gripped the sheets as he teased you. Suddenly, he halted movement. You whined. “Ride. My. Fingers”, he commanded in your ear. You don’t know what came over you but you began to slowly move your hips so your clit brushed against his hand. Ghost held still as he watched you use his hand. You knew it was wrong. You knew you shouldn’t be doing this. It was dirty and absurd. But, fuck, his hand felt better than your own.

You could feel Ghost’s cock pressing against you harder now. You wiggled and rolled your hips as much as you could in this position, his fingers feeling so good against you. “Gonna come without me even having to do anything?” He asked, an annoying tinge in his voice. His words made you wetter. You groaned in your throat as you dug your hips down so his fingers pressed further against you. You swirled your hips and you could feel a warmth radiating throughout your body.

“That’s it, love,” he praised. He couldn’t help from grinding his hips against you. That sent you over the edge, making you whither and shake beneath him. You gripped his arms, moaning as he moved his fingers on his own, helping you ride out your high.

When you relaxed back into the mattress, you opened your eyes in shame and stared into the dark. You could feel Ghost’s hot breath on your ear. What the hell were you doing? This wasn’t like you. You should not be doing this with your fucking lieutenant of all people.

You went to tell him to leave but he was quicker than you. He rolled over so you lay under him, your face buried into the mattress. You gasped. “ Again ,” he said with a sudden darkness in his voice. It sent shivers straight to your core.

“What? No, I can’t—“ Ghost’s hand remained against your core, the weight of his body making his hand dig into you. He began to grind against your back, pushing you into the mattress and into his hand. You moaned, shoving your head into your pillow to muffle the sounds. You wanted to scream from the overstimulation. Ghost’s cock rubbed against you with each thrust. His knee came between your legs and spread them, resting himself between your thighs. His cock dragged against your core with each rut of his hips now, his hand digging into your clit. You couldn’t move under his weight as he kept shifting on top of you. You whined, struggling to breathe under him. You were forced against his hand, your clit sending sparks up your spine. Finally, you were writhing under him again, your legs shaking and bending upwards, your mouth gasping for air.

You sank loosely back into your bed, a sweet wave of your lasting climax washing over you.

“ Again ,” Ghost growled lowly in your ear.

Your eyes widened as he began to thrust against you again. You groaned in pain that slowly mixed with pleasure again. “Ghost,” you whimpered. You wouldn’t be able to orgasm three times in a row, there was no way! He grunted as he rocked his hips against you, his cock slamming into your clothed entrance with each go as if you were actually having sex.

Ghost’s fingers curled so he pushed you roughly into them each time he rutted into you, making you yelp. It felt so good. You felt your eyes rolling into the back of your head at the overstimulation. Ghost picked up speed, humping against you faster and rougher now, your bed squeaking. You mewled under him, your legs beginning to shake again, your hands ripping into your sheets. You shoved your face into your pillow to muffle your scream as you came hard against his hand again. Ghost groaned loudly in your ear, coming in his sweatpants as he lazily thrusted against you a few more times. You didn’t even know it was possible to orgasm that many times.

He finally collapsed on top of you, your body still trying to calm down from the three orgasms. Ghost rolled over and pulled you with him. “You ever come three times in a row like that?”

You looked down at his mask-covered face, your hands against his chest. “I told you to stop!” You hissed, out of breath.

“Answer my question or I’ll make you come a fourth time.”

Your eyes widened. There’s no way you could…

You shook your head. “No. I never came three times like that. Happy?!”

Ghost pulled you down against him. “I love how much you wiggle and squirm beneath me.” You gulped, his grip tightening around you. He could feel your nipples harden against his chest.

“On second thought, I think I’ll make you come again just for the hell of it.”

“Ghost, I can’t. I’m too—“ You tried to plead. He rolled on top of you, your back pressed into the mattress this time. Ghost was settled between your legs, his cock already hard again and pressed against your core; this man was crazy. You squirmed as he looked down at you. His eyes were dark and hard to make out but you knew he was ravishing you with his eyes. He couldn’t get enough of how flustered you looked. Ghost began to grind into you, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist. You immediately groaned lowly, pain and pleasure shooting through you. “Ghost,” you whimpered, his face resting against the nape of your neck.

“Keep sayin’ my name, baby.”

You moaned into his shoulder as he thrusted against you. His cock dragged against your swollen clit with each snap of his hips. His body crushed you beneath him, barely holding himself up as he lazily humped you. Your nails dug into his clothed back. You mewled under him, bucking your hips up into him. “Mhmmm,” he hummed, the head of his cock bumping against your clit. His hand fisted your hair. “Oh my god, Ghost,” you whined breathlessly. Ghost immediately picked up speed until he was thrusting against you with such force that your bed was slamming into the wall. You didn’t care at this moment that others might hear the lieutenant dry-humping you into another universe as your bed hit the wall. You tried to buck up into him again but his weight overpowered you. You began to moan, your legs shaking, your nails dragging along Ghost’s back, making a chill of pleasure run down his spine. Ghost grunted in what sounded like pain as he came in his pants for a second time that night. You gasped, trying to catch your breath as this large man crushed you.

“Fuck,” he grumbled, his accent heavier than usual. “Imagine what we could do without clothes.” He finally stopped moving his hips against yours and he rolled you both to the side so he spooned you like earlier. With him getting what he wanted from you, you expected him to up and leave now. “Aren’t you gonna go back to your room?” You asked, faking annoyance in your voice and trying not to sound so exasperated. You felt your forehead sweating from the power of your fourth orgasm.

Ghost settled around you, his head nudged into your hair. “Nope,” he said with a grin, pulling you tighter into his chest, his hand far too close to your breast. “I wasn’t kiddin’ ‘bout Soap’s snoring.”

#ghost #simon riley #ghost smut #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #cod #simon riley smut #ghost cod #ghost fanfic #simon riley fanfic #ghost mw2 #ghost call of duty #fluff #angst #ghost angst #cod mw2 #smut

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ghcstao3 · 6 months

Text

“Simon?”

Soap’s tone is gentle, light. It’s warm and inviting, a soft prompting for a reply that only has Ghost wanting to bury himself further into Soap’s hold within the comfort of their bed.

“What’s’t, darling?” Ghost mumbles, throat scratchy and rough with sleep. He sighs deeply, wishing to sink all the way into the mattress. Mornings with Soap always felt peaceful in a sense he never knows otherwise.

Soap hums, breath skating over Ghost’s skin as he moves his mouth closer to Ghost’s ear. He presses a chaste kiss to the hinge of his jaw before whispering in that same tone as before, “Need you to move your fat arse off my arm, Simon. It’s gone numb.”

Ghost scoffs, though he can’t be bothered to throw a haphazard arm back to swat at Soap like he might another morning. Instead he only makes it clear he wouldn’t be budging any time soon.

“You’re a strong man, Johnny,” he says. “Smart one, too. Figure it out yourself.”

Soap gives an experimental tug on the arm that is trapped beneath Ghost if only to prove the point that he had already tried his own solution when his limb remains in place.

“Just roll over a bit,” Soap insists. “I need to be able to feel my arm if you ever want me to jerk—“

This time, Ghost untucks his pillow from under his head and hauls it over his shoulder to smack an indignant Soap in the face. He bites his cheek to keep back a grin, but can’t help the way his shoulders shake in silent laughter.

“You’re insufferable, Simon Riley,” Soap hisses, though the words hold no real malice. Ghost feels merciful enough to shift over just a little so that Soap can finally free himself.

“You never had to go out with me,” Ghost retorts. He nestles beneath the covers again, already halfway to drifting back asleep. “So whose fault is it really, Johnny?”

“Och.” Soap swats at Ghost’s shoulder with his newly freed hand. “It’s yours for fallin’ in love with me.”

A quiet yawn drags out Ghost as he tucks his pillow back in its place. “Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

Soap snorts. “Not spoonin’ you, that’s for sure.” The bed frame creaks with his weight as he leans forward to plant a proper kiss on the crown of Ghost’s skull. “I’ll wake you when breakfast’s ready, if I ever get this lousy arm to work again.”

Ghost listens to the gentle pad of Soap’s feet against the hardwood as he leaves the bedroom for the kitchen, laughing quietly to himself at Soap’s complaints.

And as the sounds of Soap milling about their flat begin to fill the air, Ghost falls back asleep with a faint, but fond smile on his lips.

#ok i lied one more post #morning conversations except they can’t be perfect and domestic ever #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #soapghost #ghost x soap #ghostsoap #ghoap #writing

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sideeve · 2 months

Text

⠀⠀⠀𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐀𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐘𝐑𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐃 𝐓𝐎𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓

alt text ✘ jjk men as lyrics from pyramids

contains ✘ fem!reader , satoru gojo , kento nanami , toji fushiguro , fingering , broke!toji , DOM!toji , cowgirl with nanami

announcement ✘ this is my 200th post on this account which is crazy because i thought i would've ditched this account by now. and a mini celebration for hitting 2.5k🥳 thank you so much. i know haven't been very active with the fan fictions and i appreciate the patience. thank you.

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐟𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦

𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔

" you showed up after work, i'm bathing your body

touching you in places only i know

you're wet and you're warm just like our bath water. "

the pool of warm water surrounded you and Gojo as he had you pressed up against his back. the pads of his fingers would glide up and down the meat of your thighs, beginning as chaste touches. the foaming of soap covering your breasts was enough to turn a switch in his brain, his length rising a bit.

you were in the midst of telling Gojo about your week until he interrupted you, kissing a trail up your neck before mumbling "you're so beautiful." his fingers drop down a level, meeting your inner thighs. he knew you enough to know it's not just the wet water he's feeling.

he turns your head you him, taking your lip to his as he plunges two fingers into you, taking your moan in his mouth. his unoccupied hand gently glides up to your breast, two fingers pinching and rolling around your nipple.

"so pretty." he whispers before plunging his tongue into your mouth, leaving no crevice undiscovered. he had a habit of making you melt under his touch. he was a natural at this point--he was amazing at it.

Gojo felt your walls pulsate around his digits, giving signs of your release being close. he chuckles, "not yet, baby."

𝐓𝐎𝐉𝐈 𝐅𝐔𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐎

" the way you say my name makes me feel like i'm that nigga

but i'm still unemployed. "

the headboard continuously rocked against the wall, creating mini cracks in the walls as Toji pounded himself in you. one moment you were complaining about him not having a real job, and the next, you were chanting his name like a mantra. "Toji!" you whine. the side of your face was pressed down on the mattress, your back arched, giving him more space for his cock to explore.

"that's it, baby." he groans, his head hanging low, watching as he disappears inside of you. "fuck." a hand strikes against your ass, your bottom recoiling. your body leans forward, moving away from where Toji's hips met yours.

"don't run away, girl." he chuckles. his large hands grip both sides of your hips, pulling you right back on his length. you squeal, the pleasure becoming overwhelming.

"please!" you sob. your hands reach back to push Toji off you. he takes both of your wrists and holds them into an X behind your back. now you have nowhere to run. "just fucking take it."

𝐊𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐎 𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐈

" you say it's big but you take it.

ride, cowgirl. "

the sounds of Nanami's frequent grunts and moans and your slick covering his length filled the room. you needed a sexual release and the toys just weren't doing it.

you needed your husband. your husband who would only come home at the asscrack of dawn just to restart the same routine. as they say, absence makes the heart grow fonder. it also makes the body grow hornier.

the pace you rode was unbearable. he's never seen such intensity from you. he wasn't complaining either, he loved to see you on top of him. it saved him the worry of hurting.

"fuck." you bit your lip, leaning forward. your hands were pressed against his chest, propping yourself. Nanami's hands wander up your hips, helping you out a bit as he could sense that you were tired. "i missed you," you whisper, leaning down to plant a kiss on his. he moans at the contact, chasing after you as you pull away. "i'm make sure this i'll never leave you this needy."

#（ ✶ 𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔 .）#（ ✶ 𝐊𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐎 𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐈 .）#（ ✶ 𝐓𝐎𝐉𝐈 𝐅𝐔𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐎 .）#gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #gojo smut #nanami kento x reader #nanami smut #nanami x reader #toji fushiguro x reader #toji x reader #toji fushiguro smut #toji smut #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen

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mintmatcha · 5 months

Text

MONSTER FUCKING

Fandom: Dungeons and Dragons

The night continues with Obsidian.

cw: cisfem reader, feminine nicknames, female receiving oral, OC x reader, monster fucking, a TINY BIT OF DUBCON, overstimulation

PART TWO OF TWO (Part one: here)

a/n: again, big thanks to @saetyrn9 and @tyga-lily <3

He doesn’t return until the fire is burnt low, nothing but embers. His figure is nothing but a silhouette against the hall light as he creeps, doing his best to move silently around the room. His dirty clothes are replaced by the sheerest of shirts and pants, thin enough that even in the low light you can see how his scales shimmer in hue, purple and green where the firelight touches. Every now and again he throws a glance towards you, tucked neatly on your side of the bed, and then sighs, low and forlorn.

It feels wrong to watch him while he thinks you’re asleep. Even alone, he makes his movements so small, crouching to take up little space as he fiddles about, oiling his scales and the other mundane things he has to do before sleep. It hits you that he might be insecure about the space he takes up.

The world is not kind. It is tragedies and maladies, injustice and inhumanities. Tensions are always simmering under the surface, chaos always threatening to boil over. Horrible, awful things plague this world and not a single person is left untouched or unchanged.

Through all of that, Obsidian somehow remained gentle. That’s what you admire most of him- the softness he carries himself with. There’s a bitter edge that clings to you, a callus that won’t come off of your palms. He treats you well anyway, despite it all.

“You never got to ask your questions,” you say, voice only just louder than the last licks of fire.

Obi starts at the sound of your voice, then his shoulders soften. He drags himself to the edge of the bed, hands folded politely in front of him like a scolded child. He smells faintly of lemon and soap: soft, sour, and refreshing.

“Why are you still awake?” he whispers, affection honey sweet in his tone. He reaches to grab your ankle, then hesitates before dropping back to his side. “My curiosities can wait for another day.”

The night air is cool against your cheeks and the sheets are not thick enough. Obi, in all his emotional and physical warmth, is just out of reach. When you extend an arm for him, he doesn't meet you at first, hemming about like a child. It’s goofy, for such a grown man to seem so shy- you have to bite your lip to hold your smile back.

Instead of waiting for him, you peel back the sheets and crawl to him. It’s impolite and unladylike, but it earns you a smile from him and an outstretched hand. This time, he doesn’t pull away when your fingers loop with his, instead closing tight.

“I’m sorry Kiri said all that.”

“You don’t have to apologize for her behavior,” he says, eyes never leaving the spot he’s chosen at the end of the bed, “I heard how you… scolded her.”

The innkeeper had threatened to kick you all out after the way you berated the poor girl, screaming in the hallway in just your nightgown, but the elf had deserved it. She’s barely older than a teenager in elf years, you remind yourself, but that isn’t an excuse for bad behavior.

Tomorrow, when the sun is up and emotions aren’t high, you’re sure the group will discuss it all, but for tonight, you want to tend to Obi’s wounds.

“Was I too harsh?” You trail a thumb across the back of his hand. Knees on the mattress, he’s still much taller than you, able to rest his chin on your head if he wanted.

“Too harsh? No,” The hint of amusement you’ve come to love is back in his voice, “Too loud? Debatable.”

Imitating you, he drags his thumb back and forth in comfort, the rounded nail grazing against your skin. Finally, he meets your eye, the green piercing even in the night. The feeling of want is thick, slowing every breath as if your ribs are stuffed with molasses, and all you can think is that you hope he feels this too-- hope he wants this too.“I appreciate you standing up for my honor.”

“Always,” you say. A heat drips into your core as you realize his claws are trimmed and rounded-- just for you. “Anything for you.”

You rest a hand against his chest and wait in the silence, savoring the luxuriant feelings that fills your throat: want and need and desire and greed and contentment and bliss-- all a muddle you can’t swallow again, filling you, but also leaving you with a hunger that can’t be sated.

“You should rest,” he says as he slides his arms around you, grabbing handfuls of cloth.

“Ask your questions first.”

Verdant eyes flicker down, marked by his chittering. It’s like a purr, you realize-- a sound of pure contentment. Feline is the way he moves, elegant and fluid.

“Does it really feel good-” His knuckle drags down your chest and hints over the apex of your breast, “When these are touched?”

He hesitates there, a breath away from you, wondering, hoping. The air crackles a bit wilder with magic for a moment- a response to his excitement.

“Obi,” You loop a finger under the strap of your nightgown and guide it off of your shoulder, pushing the neckline dangerously low. “Do you like my tits?”

“You should know that it’s very cheeky to answer my question with a question,” he leans forward and bumps his head against yours, nuzzling ever so slightly The ridges and tiny horns ruffle your hair and all you can do is giggle and squirm into it, bumping your noses together. His touch has wandered dangerously low, cupping under your ass and lifting you into him.

Then, he sobers, voice lower than ever.

“Yes.” He takes the satin edge between his fingers and delicately, carefully, lovingly moves the other strap down the other shoulder, guiding it until your breasts fall free. Obi swallows thickly, then runs his tongue across the upper ridge of his teeth as he takes in everything about you. “I like them very much.”

His nose is textured against your skin, grooved yet smooth against your clavicle. Each breath is released so slowly that it blooms with heat, crawling across your chest as he moves down, loving every inch above your breasts. The journey is marked with kisses and nips, the lightest touch of his teeth. The way he reveres the boring parts of you makes your heart flitter and, by the time he’s sucking a bruise into the fat of your tit, your body is trembling for him too.

“I didn’t realize they were so…” Teeth sink into your tit, testing the give. The other is cupped by his wide palm, lifting it into the side of his muzzle. “Malleable.”

When he opens his jaw again, wider this time, it’s marked with the click and suck of wet. Strands of spit string together for a fleeting moment, following his panting tongue.

Oh, he’s no longer feline. He’s closer to a dog, feral and drooling for you.

The rough edge of his tongue dragging against your nipple rips a gasp from you, but it only serves as a siren’s call. His body presses into yours, folding your legs back and forcing you back into the down of the bed. The sheets crunch under you as you’re moved by the force of the way he indulges. You should scold him or warn him of the way you’ll bruise in the morning, but a heat consumes every aspect of you, robbing you of any thought. The scorch of his mouth, the delicious drip of spit trickling down your ribcage, the ambient heat that’s simply him- it all ignites that pulling, twist, blazing heat in your core, a fever you can’t sweat out.

Obi pulls away just enough to look at you through slitted eyes.

“My fawn,” he purrs, “Now you are being too loud.”

His hand grips your side hard enough that even the trimmed edge aches.

“People are going to hear you,” he continues, tongue dragging down the sweat touched valley between your breasts, “They’re going to know you’re being bedded by some beast."

That makes your stomach flip, then flip again, tying your insides into a sickly knot. Your hands find the ridge of his horns on their own. Their length is surprisingly long for his age, more than enough for you to tug and stop his descent. Obi glances up at you, giving you the reprieve you need. Both of you lay there, breathing in sync.

"Don’t say things like that," you say once you've caught yourself, "I don't like that. You're not…"

Lemon oil, mixed with the pressing of some sort of shrub nut- that's what he oils his scales with. It makes his skin so soft and makes the air always marked with him.

"You're not some beast." You rub a thumb down the ridges of his horn, "You're my prince."

The words feel so corny coming out of your mouth. You're no wordsmith, unlike him, but you can see the statement physically hit. At first, he just slightly draws back, then his eyes go wide before becoming intensely soft. Then, he curls in, tucked his chin and resting his forehead against your collarbone.

"Oh," he says, voice on the brink of laughter, "Oh, my fawn, my princess--"

He squeezes your hips again. "You're going to shatter my heart one day, aren't you?"

Before you can respond, he's kissing you for real. It's different from anything else you've experienced with humans and elves; his mouth is different, firm lips unable to fully pucker. The feeling is strange, with too much teeth and pressure,but so, so, welcome.

Obi must enjoy it too; he shifts and writhes, finding his place between your awaiting thighs. You can feel how he grinds into the mattress, strokes long and slow and rough, searching for any sort of pressure. You want to touch him again-- no, need to. You need to see his cock for real this time, coax it out of his body for you to ride.

Another tug on his horns pauses him.

"Stop, just for a second," you say. He obeys, pulling back fully, and you untangle yourself from him.

"Are you alright?" Obi says, a tad dejected, "We can stop-"

You wriggle out of your slip and clumsily push it to the foot of the bed with your feet. A sliver of doubt wrangles its way into your thoughts; even in the dim, you're sure he can see your body and all its imperfections, the scars, the marks, the bits you simply don't like: does he know what to expect? Does he even know what humans look like naked?

The room is cold without the fire going. You have to remind yourself who the man is on top of you. It’s not some stranger-- it’s Obi. Your Obsidian. A friend, a confidant, a brother in arms, and the kindest soul you’ve even met. It strikes you then that maybe you have feelings for him outside of all of those definitions, something closer to love than simple lust.

"I haven't shaved in a while, I'm sorry-"

"You have the body of a nymph," Obi blurts out, voice high with surprise, "You're exquisite."

His pupils are fully round, engulfing almost all of the iris as he soaks in the sight of you.

"Human's do not like this?" He leans down, head just below your belly button, examining when your body meets your cunt. His fingers run through your pubes, "But it's so…"

Mid-sentence he halts, mouth parted just enough that you can catch the jagged edge of his fangs. He swallows deep breaths, sucking more and more until his chest is puffed against yours. Strong, forceful hands loop under your knees and cram your legs apart. You squeal and kick, giddy in your embarrassment and barely able to contain your laughter.

"Oh, you smell so good," he exhales each word, only inches from your cunt. He’s pressing into you, almost folding you in half so he can creep into the bed with you. "That's your quim? That's what you've been hiding?"

He traces two fingers up the clef, admiring it even closer than ever. The rumble in his chest, the purring, is so grand that it shakes your thighs. Like this, strung up and spread apart, you feel so exposed, so vulnerable. You muster up even more embarrassment when fingers part your lips and his steamed breath tickles your most inner parts.

“Don’t look so closely!” you scold, but he doesn’t listen.

"Humans get so wet." You try to close your knees on instinct, but the mass of his body stops you, "Is this usual? Do you always?"

"Only when-- a-aa-ah-"

You find out that he was not looking for an actual answer. Obi takes you by the hips and drags you down into his muzzle, wasting no item before dragging that damned tongue across the entirety of you. He's eager and unaimed, licking and sucking and drooling across every inch of you except where you want him. The crest of his brow digs into the puff of your mound, blocking you from reaching down and playing with your clit yourself.

The want, the need-- it's dizzying. Words fail you every time you try to speak, your comprehensibility robbed by the hiccupped whines Obi is pulling from you. Teetering on this edge is deliciously painful, but you're already losing patience.

Frustrated, you grind your hips down and Obi's nose bumps against your clit. The pressure makes your body sing, so you do it again and again, claiming your pleasure on your terms. A laugh rumbles through your skin as Obi chuckles and obliges, lapping at exactly where you need him too.

Heat sears through you as you cum: hard. It's almost a surprise, boiling over when you least expect it. It’s a flex and release of your muscles, a quick, simple thing that gives you just enough release. It’s nothing life changing, but it’s better than what you get with most men.

You breathe and wait for Obi to move or comment, but he's still, waiting for you to pick up your pieces.

"That was nice." You say after a bit, "Now, why don’t you come here and let me ride you?"

Whe he doesn’t respond, you sit up slightly, only to be caught. A hand presses down on your stomach and locks you in place against the mattress. Dark eyes glance up at you, narrowed.

"Stay still," he says, voice rougher than ever, "I can do better than simply 'nice.'"

Immediately, you regret teaching Obi where you liked to be licked. He abuses that knowledge, focusing on your poor, overstimulated clit until you're nothing but whimpers. Your brain cant think when he's touching you; all you can do is whine. Reaching and grasping for hair that isn't there, your nails run across his scales head and find no purchase.

Then, your own head is tapped by… something. You screw back and realize he's ran you into the fucking wall; you have to extend both hands to stop yourself from being crumpled even further.

"Shit, shit, shit, shit--" This one's going to be big. You can feel it rolling in, coming like a wave.

Two thick fingers press inside you. If you weren't impossibly slick, the stretch would ache, but there's no friction left to resist the intrusion. He explores a bit, pumping and curling and-- there. That's all you need to tumble again, falling and falling and falling-

Until the drop hits.

You're left boneless. There's no resistance in your body as he adjusts you again, throwing your knees over his shoulders-

"Obsidian, no," You drum your heels against his back, "No, no, no, no, I can't take another--"

A deep, rolling growl fills the room as he squeezes tighter, locking you together as his long, firm tongue presses inside of you. You realize he’s speaking an unfamiliar tongue-- Draconic, most likely. It’s sultry tones and clicked vowels, rolling deep and slow into one long slurred sound. Maybe he’s scolding you, maybe it’s praise: you don’t care. He holds you like he owns you-- like he controls you, and you find that you like that.

“Please, please, please, just fuck me already-” You find yourself blabbering, “Need you, need it, just-- oh, Gods and Stars-- Please fuck me, please--”

You clutch on to the mattress and hope the world stops spinning. “On me--- in me, just-- Gods, fucking cum already-”

“No,” Common slips from his mouth, “Not yet.”

The night is a blur after that. There’s no possible way to count how many times you cum; they all roll into one in your mind, an unstable peak. He’s everywhere, he’s everything. You always imagined him as a patient lover, but you’re quickly proved wrong. He’s mean and demanding, drawing everything from you until the ache in between your ribs grows unbearable. Slick runs from your thighs to your knees, ruining the cotton beneath you both. The unbearable sounds of wet fill the room, marked by your occasional protests.

You hate him, you think. Maybe you love him. You can’t tell when your brain is absolutely swimming in dopamine.

“‘m gonna pass out,” you whine, weakly batting a hand against his forehead. The dragonborn pulls away with a dot of a kiss, finally listening.

“Then do, fawn.” Obi’s chest and face shine with a mixture of your excitement and his spit, “Sleep. That doesn’t bother me.”

With that, he spreads you open again. You eventually do drift off, too overstimulated and absolutely fucked to even keep your eyes open. There has to be something to it. The taste? The smell? Dragonborns are more sensitive to pheromones, you think. Maybe he's high off of you?

No, it’s too focused to be solely for him; it must be for your pleasure. He must get some sort of sick fucking satisfaction from unraveling you down to your very core and then continuing. You feel unwound, a ball of yarn left to uncoil and flounder in the breeze

In the moments of twilight between sleeps, you manage to catch him moving, legs positioned around your rib cage as he whines, voice tight when he speaks. It’s mumbled nothings, ripping through his broken voice. Draconic seems to be paced so much slower than Common, each word rolling carefully slow off of his tongue.

Exhaustion sits so heavy that you can't keep your eyes focused. You have to keep one eye closed to even get a glimpse of what he's-

Oh.

Above you, inches away from your face, Obsidian Vyke fists his cock. Contrary to what he said, his body is not very similar to a humans. All of the important parts are there, of course, but the shape is much, much bigger, with a tapered end and ridges running down the bottom. It's an ashen purple, the same color as his skin under his scales, and his balls are a bit darker, hairless and slick with his precum. The head pulses every couple of strokes and you know he's dangerously close to cumming himself.

You want that. You’ve been begging for it this entire night and it’s there, inches from your face. That needs to be inside me, you think, but your poor pussy is twitching and raw from all the attention.

You settle for the next best thing.

With all the effort you can muster, you prop yourself up ever so slightly. You stick up your tongue and the pillow of his cock presses against it. It only takes a couple of kitten licks for him to spill; he crumbles into a whine and your mouth is suddenly painted with thick, potent seed.

It’s… different from other spend you’ve had the displeasure of tasting. Less astringent, more… you’re not sure. When your ex husband used your mouth, you always winced at the taste, but now you close your mouth and suck. His cock doesn’t stop kicking, dribbling more than a man could ever dream of producing. It’s hot enough that you flinch with it touches the back of your throat, but you don’t stop swallowing, draining it down as fast as you can.

The taste was enjoyable, you realize. You liked that, as if you were a common whore. Before any sort of shame can set in, Obi scrambles away, cooing and stroking the side of your face with his usual warmth.

“Oh, sweet fawn, you didn’t have to,” he says, “Let me get you something to spit that into.”

You shake your head and open your mouth again, tongue extended to show him it’s already gone.

"Little minx." Obi speaks with a wild amount of warmth and you bathe in it, letting your eyes close again. "Beautiful, dirty thing.”

There’s no way you’re beautiful now, with your makeup smeared and your hair ruined, but you choose to believe him. The swipe of a tongue against your cheek, comforting, not erotic, elicits a giggle from you. Gods, it hurts to even laugh.

“You’re dripping in sweat. I’m going to steal a towel to clean you up with, alright?” Obi pauses, presumably waiting for your approval, before hurrying about. You can make out the slip of fabric being pulled up, the creak of floorboards, the-

Sleep overtakes you.

The sun is much, much higher than you’d like it to be when you awake. The town is in full force, boys screaming the news, merchants peddling their wares, but you can’t seem to find the energy to join them. Not when the bed is so warm and welcome.

Obi is gone. He’s always been an early riser, so that doesn’t bother you much. Besides, you aren’t sure you want him seeing you like this, knock-kneed and drained as you try to gather yourself together. Down there is unbearably slick still, even after all the time that's passed, and that fills you with a sick excitement.

It’s not until after your bath that you feel remotely human again. The glitter and lust of last night begins to fade as you strap yourself into your clothes, but a relaxed giddiness still hangs on.

By the time you meander downstairs, the inn is busy serving lunch. The air is tinged with salt and spices-- the familiar kind you haven’t smelt in ages, let alone tasted. Familiar faces are crowded into one of the smaller booths, Obsidian’s comically large shoulders bumping against his two elf companion’s. Tensions have clearly calmed since last night. The elf is busy spooning bits of vegetables out of her stew and plopping them into the dragonborn’s.

“You must take my carrots. I know how you like them,” she demands, “And I’ll have your rabbit, since you don’t eat meat. Does that sound good to you, sorcerer?”

Obsidian is already obliging, cornering the bits he doesn’t want out of the bowl. “If that’s what you want.”

"You'll take this bread too. I grabbed an extra for you."

"Oi, you didn't grab any extra for me."

"The Sorcerer probably weighs fifty times what you do, he needs more."

Obsidian pats his stomach with concern. "Fifty times?"

“She awakes!” Tig, Kiri’s lover, croons, head in their hands as they notice you. They are just as lean and beautiful as Kiri is, but painted much, much fairer. “We feared you dead, Rogue!”

“Aye, both of you act as if I would leave her rotting,” Obi bemoans. Both elves turn to the poor man and coo, patting his shoulder comfortingly. Your speech clearly had some effect on the group and that deepens your giddy feeling.

“Did you bathe again?” Kiri hands her bread over to the dragonborn as promised, “I thought you had done so last night.”

You glance over at your… lover? Friend? You aren’t sure. He watches back, brow quirked, waiting for you to lead this dance.

“Just taking advantage of the water,” You reply as evenly as you can, taking the empty seat. Your relationship news to be figured out before you make it public knowledge, especially since your last relationship ended with such…

The dragonborn slides a roll across the table with a crinkle of his eyes, sparing you a train of thought you’re not emotionally ready for. It steams as you rip into it and cram it into your mouth. Hunger suddenly rips through your body and you perk up, searching for the source of this stew.

“Did you sleep well?” Tig asks between mouthfuls. They aren’t as proper as Kiri; they spread their legs wide and take up as much space as they can, holding their utensils like a shovel. If they weren’t so ethereal and genderless, you’d think that they were a half elf.

“Hopefully I didn’t keep you up,” Obi says, offhandedly, “I’d hate to think I kept you awake.”

Oh, that rascal. His nose scrunches as he tries not to laugh.

“You bothered me a bit,” you reply, equally placid, “But I don’t mind.”

“What a shame.” He takes a spoonful of the meal and chews it thoughtfully. Then, he pauses, pressing two fingers into the crook of his jaw. “I must have sleep strangely because I woke with this awful ache in my jaw-”

A swift kick to the shin silences him.

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bettyfrommars · 5 months

Text

perv!eddie x fem!reader

thank you to my darlings @onegirlmanytales and @mrsjellymunson for requesting some perv Eddie from me, since I was begging for it. Decided to go with biker!eddie. I wrote this really fast, it is so silly. Just to clarify, I do not consider "perv" to be a negative thing, especially not in this instance. I think it's very adorable behavior.

18+only, masturbation, smut fantasies, dirty talk, ejaculation, armpit kink, reader owns a cardigan

wc: 784

The first time you met Eddie and rode in his tow truck, you left something behind, and it wasn't until a week later that you realized it was missing. It was a lightweight cardigan that seemed to go with every outfit, but after a while, you gave up looking, and figured you must’ve left it at the library, or at the park, perhaps.

Eddie noticed it that same night on his way home; it was slumped down between the passenger seat and the door.

The material was dark and soft, and the first thing he did was smell it. A tentative, quick sniff at first, but then he closed his eyes and pushed a handful of the material against his mouth and nose as if it were a breathing apparatus, sucking in deep.

He remembered the way the swing of the door shutting you in the cab earlier that day sent a shockwave of your smell over to him, catching in his throat, making his mouth water.

That sweater was his excuse to see you again, and he clutched it close, making his way up to his apartment above Munson’s Garage.

The next night, he took a shower, sat down in the comfy chair adjacent to the TV to have a beer, and your cardigan just so happened to be on the arm rest---so he decided to smell it again.

There were subtle notes of whatever perfume or lotion you wore embedded in the fabric, as well has hints of laundry soap, but then, there was something else. The natural pheromones released from the pores in your skin, but also…

He lifted up the sleeve of the garment to follow the shoulder seam down to the curve of the spot he wanted, and then he breathed in a few greedy pulls.

Oh, fuck, right there.

That bit of sweat, and twinge of body odor after a long day at work and being stranded by the side of the road in the sun. The way he imagined the crease of your inner thigh might taste after a long night of fucking.

Shirtless, with wet hair hanging down his shoulders, he took hold of his growing length inside his boxers, pumping himself a few times.

One-handed, he flipped your cardigan inside out to get closer to the scent, to get closer to you.

He imagined licking the sweat from between your breasts after you rode him good and hard, and then letting his tongue work deep inside your pussy, spreading your legs further.

“Just like that, baby? You want to cum on my tongue? You’re so good for me,” his voice was muffled as he spoke into the material, imagining his face buried in your sweetness.

Fist moving faster on his uncircumcised foreskin, his hips bucked up, precum dribbled out, and he groaned your name.

“I want to be inside you too, baby, fuck, so bad,” he said aloud, answering your imaginary plead, giving his hard shaft a few long strokes. “But not until you cum for me. I want to taste you.”

In his mind, he imagined feeling that tight bud at the top of your slit getting taunt under his sucks, and then you are pleading with him that you were close. You’d be clutching onto his hair, saying his name over and over, until you eventually lost control, arching up of the bed, heels kicking on the mattress.

His hips shot up off the chair and they vibrated there, frozen, his hand jerking at the tip, imagining working you through your orgasm.

He dropped the sweater from his face and then, breathlessly, he imagined plunging his cock inside of you, diving down into your eager arms as you kissed him, burying himself in your still fluttering walls.

“OH fuckkk you feel so good,” he hissed, throwing his head back as his warm release leaked over his hand and onto his belly. “That’s my girl, that’s my fucking girl. Take every last drop.” He huffed, stroking the wetness as long as he could before it got too sticky, squirming in his seat, pretending to linger inside you.

In the aftershock of it all, he pulled his boxers up and felt almost embarrassed. What would you think of him if you knew?

Regardless, he had every intention of returning the sweater to you, but time went on and he forgot.

No, that’s a lie. He consciously decided to keep it.

About a year later, while helping him pack up his place, you’d find it tucked in the far corner of his closet.

“Baby,” you ask, holding it up by the shoulders so that it unfolds slowly in its crinkled state. “Why do you have this?”

#perv!eddie #biker!eddie #I'm on fire #Eddie Munson smut #Eddie munson request

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the-froschamethyst4 · 3 months

Text

Nicknames that I think will make them fold

COD men Headcannons

——————

König

I wanna say the nickname Handsome

Since he like anxiety of all kinds and even a bit of insecurities calling him handsome by his lover just makes him go insane

“Hey handsome,” was all you said as you sit next to him on the couch

His arm goes behind your head and pulls you closer to him

“Hey,” he smiles under his mask

★★★★★

Ghost

Sometimes just calling him ‘Si’ will make him go crazy

But you’ve called him stud one day just jokingly and he was on top of you in minutes

He didn’t think some dumb nickname like that could make him pound into the ground

“Hey stud,” you sexily said, pushing yourself on him

“Stud?” He questions.

“Yep?” You felt like maybe you struck a nerve “WOAH!”

You were pushed to the couch and within seconds your clothes were off

★★★★★

Price

You call him sexy, handsome, sweet thing, daddy, and hot shot and those barely make him do anything, the common dirty nicknames don’t make him go wild it’s the boring classic nicknames

Honey, teddy bear, muffin, babe, baby and Captain

Ohhhh don’t get me STARTED on Captain

Captain John Price will put you on your back in minutes

Ass in the air and you could be very much not walking for DAYS!!!!

“Captain can you help me with dinner please!” You yell from the kitchen.

“What’d you call me?” He asked pushing himself against your ass to feel his hard dick

“C-Captain.”

Next thing you knew you where on the kitchen counter ass and pussy being DESTROYED

★★★★★

Soap

My Knight

That sent him into a coma

He loves when you call him your knight, it makes him feel special

“My knight can you help me with laundry please.”

“Your knight is coming to the rescue,” he says kissing your temple and helping you separate the clothes and throwing the first wash into the washer

Your knight is also very keen on being your king, placing you on your back fucking you into the mattress or couch cushions

★★★★★

Alejandro

If you are a foreigner and don’t know Spanish that well but when being with him you’ve manage to pick up some Spanish

So you call him mi luz meaning my light

He loves it

If you do speak Spanish

You call him every name that pops into your head and it makes him go feral

Mi vida my life, mi sol my sun/sunshine

You’ve called him idiota (idiot) it makes him go crazy

“God I love you,” Alejandro says.

“Idiota,” you say making him chuckle and kiss your temple

★★★★★

Gaz

Angel eyes, love and Romeo

Those nicknames make him look at you as if you were his King/Queen and makes him go crazy

Like only YOU!! Can call him those nicknames

“Romeo! I need you real quick!!” You called

“Yes?” He asks pushing himself up behind you (but not like Price)

“Can you cut the carrots for me please?”

“Only for you,” he kissed your temple.

#cod modern warfare #cod mw2 #cod mwii #cod x reader #fandom #fanfic #call of duty #mw2 #cod #headcanon

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peachesofteal · 5 months

Note

Soap on the escort mission with Cypher to her temporary base: they're both given rooms, but he tricks her into thinking they were only given one so they only have one shower and bed. He gets her into sleeping in the same bed, copping a feel and cuddling her so tight it feels like he's suffocating her

Oh my god yes but also this sent me off the deep end, sorry.

18+ mdni / soap x cypher (fem reader) / dark and twisty themes

First of all, the entire trip is nauseating. You weren’t given much notice. You’ve never ridden in a helicopter before, and Sergeant MacTavish has to show you how to buckle the straps, knuckles brushing along the tops of your thighs as he clips you in. You’re way outside of your comfort zone. You’re so off kilter, more changes, adjustments to your routines, more strangers. When you get to the outpost, it’s even worse. The systems are rudimentary. You can work with anything, because you’re good, but harvesting the data that Laswell has tasked you with is going to take longer than you’d like. The group you’re with is… small, as well, just you, Sergeant MacTavish, and Sergeant Garrick, who confidently ignores you unless you speak directly to him.

All of this piles and piles on top of you until you’re practically having a nervous breakdown on the first day. Nothing goes right, no one at the outpost is kind, and they all stare at you as you work, like you’re some kind of freak. You’re pretty sure you even hear someone make a joke about you under their breath, something cruel, something that sounds like the things kids used to call you in school. Awful, isolating things, things that always made you feel more alone than you already did. It picks at you, picking and picking, and then you break.

You run into Sergeant MacTavish in the hall, who stops you, alarmed. You try to tell him you need to go to your room, that you need some time to decompress and sit in the dark, but you can't get the words right, they come out messy and mixed up, and you get stuck on a few, repeating them more than once, embarrassment simultaneously trying to melt you into the floor. You’re ripping at the skin on your fingers, digging into the cuticles, trying to keep a lid on yourself when he informs you that the outpost is over occupied, and you’ll be bunking with him.

After the initial shock, he herds you with efficiency to the room, firm hand on your shoulder blade, and you’re surprised at how well the touch grounds you, closing your eyes, sinking into it, listening to the sounds around you, his breathing, the scratch of a door handle, a lock clicking closed.

"Keep 'em closed." He coos, and the command relaxes you. You like the dark, it comforts you, and you think he knows, because the lights never flick on, even though the room is nearly pitch, only one little window in a concrete box, the standard issue. When you don't respond, he hums, pulling you back into the warmth of his body. "Do ye need a lay down?" He murmurs into your hair, petting over your skin, under the neck of your shirt-jacket combo, and you nod, fingers still picking at your skin until his hands overtake them, separating them by force. "Words, sweet Cy."

"Yes, sir." You croak, and he rewards you, in a way, with his arm across your chest, pressing you harder against his front, his chest, stomach and waist, the pressure working like a tea kettle that's boiling, letting off steam.

"Good. That's good, bonnie. Let's get ye comfortable then." He works your clothes, unbuttoning your jacket, your pants. He lays you on your back, eyes still closed, pulling your boots off, divesting you of everything but your underwear, folding your feet onto the mattress together so your knees are bent, and then laid to the side, outwards. You let him move you, shift you around like a doll, unable to protest. The words just won't come out, half afraid you'll earn yourself a punishment, and half afraid he'll stop whatever he's doing right now. You don't want this, do you? Don't you? A hot mouth washes over the inside of your thigh, thumb pulling your panties to the side to expose your cunt, and he clucks his tongue. "Ye need a shave, wee sweet." Oh my god. Oh my god? Your cheeks burn, entire body doused in gasoline and then lit on fire with shame. "Dinnae worry, we wonae be doin' it tonight." His mouth is closer now, you can feel it, the thorned silk of his stubbled cheek against your leg, nose nudging into the curls between your legs. Your heart thumps inside your chest at the first contact of his tongue to your clit, and even with your eyes closed, you think you can see the moon, the sun, the fucking stars.

"Fffuuck." You moan, unable to keep yourself quiet, and he brushes his calculated touch back and forth at the perfect rate and speed, pad of his thumb rubbing soft circles into the flesh of your thighs at the same time, pressing them wider and wider, giving him more and more access to your weeping pussy.

"My sweet Cy." He breathes into your body, flicking around your clit, across it, electrical pulses spreading up through your belly. "Ye jus' need someone to help ye. Take care of ye and this bonnie pussy, aye? Treat it nice." He's working you over so well, like an expert on your body, pushing and pulling you towards the cliff, and you writhe on the bed, the burn spreading, shoving your too busy brain and too busy thoughts slowing slipping away with every second.

"Yeah." You pant, dumb. What? What are you saying?

"Want ye to come for me, baby." His voice goes serious, mouth pulling away a fraction, and you whine a little, confused. "But ye need to be good, and ask. Ask yer Sergeant for permission."

"S-s-sir. Can- Can I-" You struggle with it, brain overloaded, floating away on a cloud, and he smacks his palm against the flesh of your ass, from the side.

"Try again."

"Sir. Please. Pleeease. Can I- I come?"

"Aye, wee genius. Come for me, let me see it." It only takes a few more seconds, long strokes of mouth and tongue against you and then you're bursting into stardust, wild and fast orgasm slamming into you, as he coos to you about how good ye are, how ye wonae need anyone else now, he'll take care of everything, anything, how sweet, and your brain glitches trying to piece together his meaning until you're turning to putty, sinking deeper into the mattress under the aftershocks.

Later, not long after, he folds you into bed fully, nestled under the covers in the dark. He slides in behind you, blazing heat of his body against yours, hard cock against your ass in his boxers, and you gasp, squirming, trying to shift away until he tightens his grip, smothering you still, arms locking around you too tightly, and soothing you with calm touch in all the right spots until you're drifting off into sleep.

#peaches asks #peaches writes #soap x cypher #john soap mactavish #soap x reader #johnny soap mactavish #john mactavish x reader

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batfleshh · 4 days

Text

Late night visit

Ghost X M!DH!Reader

Warnings: NSFW, back on my dog hybrid agenda bc I miss Ghost, insomnia sucks, trouble sleeping, gay sex, no established relationship, you ride him, sleepy sex ig, idk how to put warnings these, praise, cockwarming(?), pup is said, soft and gentle Simon guys, spit as lube, not proofread

Every clock you look at makes you feel so helpless, watching the way the red numbers tick down is so agonizing.

4:28 AM

4:29 AM

You’re wandering around base aimlessly, your eyes burning from lack of sleep but you just can’t seem to force yourself into that unconscious state. You’ve tried cuddling up with Price in his bed, only to lie awake with your ears twitching at his snoring. You left his room after that, opting to go lay with Soap instead. When you attempted it, you quickly learned how much the Sergeant moved in his sleep. You left that room too when you were shoved unintentionally off the bed. You grumble out of frustration, knowing you’re gonna be in hell trying to keep yourself awake the rest of the upcoming day.

You finally stop in front of Ghosts room after a while of walking, fiddling with your shirt before cracking open the door. You weren’t entirely sure if you were allowed in there or not, but you just decided to take the chance of being scolded and yelled at. You approach his bed, his large silhouette not hard to miss laying in his bed. You walk up to his bed, reaching a hand to tap at his arm. You yelp in surprise as his hand grabs your wrist out of reflex, whining as he shoots up and glares at you. You lets go after realizing who you were, huffing in annoyance as he glances at the digital clock resting on his nightstand.

“Why are you up, solider?” He questions you, staring at you and taking note of your body language. You begin to tell him about your troubles sleeping, and how you’ve tried multiple times to lay somewhere and get rest. He grunts out a response, scarred hand rubbing his forehead. He mumbles something to you along the lines of, “don’t lay too close to me,” and you excitedly climb onto his bed. You feel the mattress dip under your weight, curling up next to him and finally shutting your eyes. You sigh through your nose, trying to get yourself to sleep.

You lay there with your eyes closed for a while, before you sit up, whining and looking over at the clock again. It reads “4:56 AM” and you feel like you want to cry out of both frustration and annoyance. You sit up, moving closer to Ghost and shaking his arm. It doesn’t take much force to get him up, his eyes glaring at you in the darkness of the room, only being illuminated by the moonlight shining through a window. You mumble about how hard it is for you to fall asleep, small sniffles starting to leave you as he sits up, sighing. He notices your emotions starting to spill, sighing once again and cursing to himself.

“What do you need, boy? What do you need me to do?” He questions you, pulling you closer to him and letting you nuzzle yourself against him. You just shrug, ears twitching on your head. You give him a look, a whimper falling past your lips as you stare at his clothes, eyes traveling down his body. You hesitantly move your hands toward his pants, looking at him for permission before you continue. You watch his eyes train over your movements, a noise of approval leaving him as he guides your hand closer.

“S’That it, pup? You wanna get fucked to sleep?” He asks you with a rough edge to his voice, humming as you nod into his neck. You straddle him, rubbing your eyes and freeing his cock from his clothes. You give it a few strokes, his size catching you off guard at first. You whine at the feeling of it in your hand, feeling him move around to prep you. You feel your boxers be lowered, moaning softly at the feeling of his saliva coated fingers prodding at your entrance. It takes him a little bit, but Simon places a gently kiss to your neck when he’s done getting you ready. You’re lifted up and leaned forward against him, moaning and whimpering at the feeling of his tip entering you.

It takes you a bit to get fully relaxed, tears prickling in your eyes as you’re stretched open by every inch of his cock. You latch your hands onto his shirt, his scarred face leaned up against your head. Your tail wags slightly behind you, Ghost thrusting his hips up into you made you feel blissed out. His pace is slow, allowing you to get your own bounces in as you rub your face into his neck. Being treated this gently with Ghost always put you in a certain headspace, allowing you to let go knowing you’re able to get taken care of. You both had rare moments like this, especially with how much you would cling to Price most of the time. But you still appreciate his efforts regardless.

You whine as your eyes grow heavy, slowing your pace down. You can’t help but squirm around on his cock, panting and whining more. You feel his larger hand wrap around your cock, helping you finish before you end up knocking out right then and there. You bite down on his shoulder as you release onto his knuckles, breathing heavily as you lay your head down on the same shoulder. You begin to shut your eyes slowly, listening to Simon hush you as whimpers fall past your lips. Ghost lets you stay on his cock, not bothering to help you off of it. He kisses at your shut eyelids when you finally close them, finally able to start drifting off.

~ ★

a/n: I’m tired

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