Hi, I’m New Here! I’m Not Sure If Requests Are Open Or If You’re Currently Writing For Ghost, But

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem!reader

Fandom: Call of Duty

Character(s): Simon Riley, Reader

Summary: A new relationship means excitement, an uncontrollable craving for each other. When an early morning romp is interrupted with a scheduled weekly meeting, will you be able to keep your hands to yourself when Price begins to drone on? And if you can't, what will your lieutenant lover do once the meeting is over after you've tempted him for far too long?

Word Count: 7.8 k

Warnings:

“Come on, just a quickie before you gotta go,” you try to bargain as you roll onto your knees on the mattress, moving to straddle yourself over top of Simon’s lap so that he can’t get out of your bed yet. “Promise I'll make it worth your while.”

You sit on his thighs as you wrap your arms around his neck and he grabs onto your hips with those large hands, only his boxers and your panties keeping you apart. Gently you run your fingers through the short, dirty blonde hair at the back of his head before bending down to try enchanting him with your kiss to stay a little longer before you both have to start your day. You know if you can get him going, quick is the last thing it is going to be and all you want is more time in his company. It’s getting harder these days to let him go. 

Your lips meet and he sighs long and deep as he drinks you in. This new development in your relationship is only a couple months in the making, but you already have him in a chokehold that he can't seem to break free from. Goddammit your kiss is like heaven and he wants nothing more than to shove you back into the mattress and get lost in the ecstasy of your body all over again, but obligations of the job that you have so conveniently forgotten about are fast approaching this morning. As much as he hates it, clearly he’s going to have to be the responsible one. Christ, you aren’t making it easy when your pretty eyes are begging him for more as you pull agonizingly slow from his mouth and roll your hips over top of him. 

“We can’t,” he says with an agitated groan as he bites the corner of his lips so the pain will stop him from losing it and leaning back in; if he doesn’t show some restraint now it’s not going to happen. “Officer’s meetin’, ‘member? Don’t wanna start any rumors with our absence, do ya? Rather not have to have a discussion with Price today. So, ya best stop fuckin’ lookin’ at me like that ‘fore ya get us both in trouble. Cause ya know if I get started, I ain’t stoppin’.”

Fuck, is it that time of the week again already? You’ve nearly forgotten the date, so absorbed in having the hulking military lieutenant all to yourself over the weekend. Instantly your heart sinks as you realize that your request isn’t going to get fulfilled now, not if you want to keep this relationship on the down low. No, you don’t want your good thing ruined by stirring up trouble, no matter how much your body still trembles to be beneath him right now.

Fine, your hands are tied at this point, so you’ll just have to be strong and table this till later. Or at least… you’re gonna try. 

“Just can’t get enough of you,” you say, resigning defeatedly as you move to rest your forehead on his.

Eyes shut, he takes a few seconds just to enjoy the closeness with you before he speaks. “Later,” he reassures in a husky whisper. “Not like I can fuckin’ stay away from ya.”

A warm kiss is swiftly pinned to your temple and you sigh defeatedly before you move off of him to sit at his side. He gives you a look before he gets to his feet to find his clothes strewn about the floor, dressing as you watch on with hungry eyes until his body is covered once again. Instantly you are missing the sight of it now that it’s gone. Later already feels like a lifetime away as you fall back against your pillow with a groan and cover your eyes with your arm. 

The sounds of rustling clothes and the jingling of a belt buckle lasts just a few more seconds, followed by the sound of heavy steps before you feel a depression next to you on the bed. A rough hand removes your arm from your face and you are met with those coffee eyes and cheeky smile poking out from beneath his half pulled down mask as he leans over top of you. “See ya at the meetin’, luv,” he says before leaving you with a quick kiss as he rushes to get out the door before that one small action ruins it all and he ends up getting you both caught from sticking around too long.

You watch the door shut behind him and in the silence that follows you can hear the sound of your heartbeat throbbing in your head. How are you meant to keep it together now?

Getting dressed feels like an impossible chore, but eventually you finish and arrive at the conference room with a bit of time to spare before the meeting starts. You enter the space and are immediately dragged into making small talk with a few of the others standing around the conference table, exchanging pleasantries till Price arrives. The heat in your cheeks struggles to dissipate from the morning and it is only made worse as a tall, burly figure enters a couple minutes later and makes his way to the back of the room as if it’s nothing. Your vision constantly darts over to that masked man in the corner as you chat, your pulse keeping your face hot because you can tell that he is doing the same, though the shadow created from the fabric covering his face gives him the advantage in keeping his dark eyes on you.

Trying to force his sight not to linger on you today isn’t an option, not when he can see the product of his kiss still spread through your face. It’s captivating to be in the presence of something like that belongs to only him, so why the hell would he not want to soak you all in? It’s like he is hypnotized. He hasn’t felt like this in a long, long time and to say he isn’t a little obsessed would be a complete lie. Just looking at you gets his pulse racing now and it’s almost instantaneous how he has to adjust the crotch of his pants as they have suddenly gotten a little tight as his body reacts to the sight of yours.

He’s gotta snap out of his insatiable craving right now or this meeting is going to be brutal to try and get through. Moving to the back of the table, he takes his seat to hide the bulge growing in his pants. That’s when a familiar voice rings through the room just the same as it has week after week and Simon feels like he can breathe a little easier.

“Mornin’ everyone,” the distinct voice of your superior is heard over the small crowd. “Let’s get started, shall we. Got things to do.”

Captain Price doesn’t waste any time, arriving precisely on the hour just as he always does and everyone immediately takes their seats just like clockwork. Good, now all he has to do is get through the hour and then you’ll go your separate ways until the end of the day. However, as he looks on as the chairs around the table get filled, he realizes that your usual seat towards the front already has a body sitting in it that isn’t yours and the only free chair left is at the back of the table right next to him.

Your eyes meet and your breath hitches as you see the empty spot beside him and it feels like you can’t get enough oxygen as you make your way over; no sense in prolonging your agony. Simon’s shoulders stiffen as you take your seat, the tension caused from your proximity making his mind hazy, even before Price begins to drone on about nothing of major significance. It’s all just daily reports and mandated updates from around the base, so it doesn’ take long before it all becomes background noise to the beating of his heart in his ears. 

You aren’t fairing any better as your mind begins to wander and it’s in that loss of attention that the trouble starts to brew. 

Sensory-filled memories of the past couple of nights play through your mind on repeat: sweaty, tangled limbs, burning kisses that steal your breath, ecstasy filling you up until all you can do is lay back and let it consume you; it’s the type of euphoria that could make you an addict if you're not careful enough. The vivid sensations associated with the images flooding through your mind chip away at your calm so that about halfway in your sanity has deteriorated. 

You cross your knees over one another and clamp your legs together to stop the ache blossoming between your thighs, but it does nothing to help. You have to do something to ease the agony because you cannot squeeze your legs together any tighter or the danger of you accidentally letting out a moan will become a real threat. Desperately your eyes dart around the room to try and focus on anything in particular, but there is nothing that grabs their attention until they stop back at the table in front of you and out of the corner of your sight you notice the top of Simon's thigh peeking out from under the table. Those juicy bits of his body that you know intimately as they have been pressed between your legs before are a magnet for your sight and suddenly there is a need that is awakened in you.

Fuck, now you have a new problem. The longer you look, the harder it gets. Imagination isn't enough anymore. Shoving your hands into the tight space between your crossed legs you try to bury the feeling, but your desire pleads with you to reach over and get a feel.

Just a little touch won’t hurt, right? 

He probably won’t even notice if you are careful enough, at least that's what you try to convince yourself of so you don't sound so fucking desperate. Maybe giving yourself a little treat will help ease the pain enough that you can move on. As Simon leans back in his chair, trying to adjust his position to keep himself focused on Price, you take that as a sign that you should just go for it.  

Simon notices the way you shift in your seat, inching in closer to the edge of the chair nearest his side. You pause for a few seconds before he catches you moving again and now your shoulders are almost touching. He wonders what you’re up to getting this intimate, but just as the question enters his mind more movement grabs his attention and he watches as you lean in and your shoulder twitches. Then he feels it, a delicate bit of pressure on his thigh that immediately sends him spiraling.

You have reached over and are now running your fingertips over the outer seam on the leg of his pants, but the moment you make the slightest contact with him a yearning blossoms in your chest so strong that you can’t stop yourself and your fingers begin to wander thoughtlessly. Soon you find your touch on the outer edge of his thigh and then the middle and still you can’t force yourself to stop.  

Simon risks a look down into the shadow underneath the table only to see your arm stretched out and your hand creeping in towards the middle of his lap. He pries his sight back up and catches you peeking over at him from the corner of your eye. Your gazes meet and your chest begins to rise and fall more heavily than it had a few seconds ago as you shoot him a tempting look.

Oh, so this is what’s going to happen today; his strength of will is going to be tested. Fuck.

Carefully and quietly, Simon repositions himself in his seat. Without turning his face at all, he inclines his head to the side so that it is nearly pressed against yours. “Ya sure ya wanna start this?” he growls his question in a whisper near your ear, yet he does nothing else as he sits back up straight. 

Your hand continues on undeterred and makes it in between his thighs without any resistance; it’s clear that neither of you were finished with what was trying to be started this morning as a small peak already meets your hand before you’ve even done anything.   

Simon exhales a shaky breath as your hand makes contact with the crotch of his pants and it takes all his willpower to hold steady as you run your hand over the mound just under the zipper. Thank God he’s wearing his jacket today, otherwise the way his chest starts to heave with each labored breath as you stroke your palm consistently over the swell would give him away to everyone here. Behind the mask, his mouth hangs open slightly as he forces himself to quietly pant as if under duress. 

Being this close to him, you can hear the change in his breathing and those subtle deviations in his respiration guide your movements further. You press down and he has to bite his lip until he tastes that first bit of copper to keep himself under control. And yet he doesn't pull your hand away… because he doesn't want to. His pretty thing needs to feel him, he isn’t going to deny that. It’s a risk, but it’s one he is more than willing to take just to keep you locked in this moment with him.

Over and over you go in with insatiable intent, stroking until the tip of his thick cock throbs with his pulse against your touch as a throbbing of your own. The sound of your captain is barely a faint whisper at this point as all of your  awareness is focused solely in the silent tension shared between you and your lover as your hand draws him closer and closer to release just from the pressure alone. 

The tingle in his lap radiates out in waves that make his limbs feel heavy and causes a cold sweat to break out across his skin and just as Simon thinks that he can’t take a second more of stimulation because he’s going to burst, the meeting finally comes to an end. Quickly you have to pull your hand back out of his lap as your fellow officers’ attentions are no longer focused towards the front of the room and you pray that they can’t see the way your body shudders. 

You don’t dare get out of your seat yet; at this point your legs are like jelly and you are sure that if you try to stand you will make a fool of yourself by stumbling around. Instead, you pull out your phone to pretend you are making a note of something important as everyone leisurely files out until all that is left is you and Simon in the empty room. 

He hasn’t said a word since his cautionary question, instead moving out of his seat the moment he could to lean up against the wall near the door with his arms crossed over his broad chest. The last person makes it out and yet he’s still standing there soundlessly as if he is waiting for something, his shadowed gaze locked onto your form. 

Eventually you calm yourself enough to make it out of your seat and back onto your feet without falling. You take a few steps to leave and you nearly make it out of the room before the door is promptly pushed shut in your face and Simon places himself directly between you and the exit. Instantly you are stopped in your tracks and you stand there curiously as that familiar click from the lock being engaged is heard and the room falls silent, not even the sound of people coming and going can be heard on this side of the door. 

“What was that, hmm?” he asks in fake anger, his bright eyes giving him away even with the mask covering the majority of his features.

You shrug. “What are we talking about?” you ask in return with a tilt of your head. Ever the little actress, it seems.

He chuckles deeply as a spark flashes through the irises of his eyes to make them shine the way an animal’s does before it goes in for the kill. You know exactly what that look means. “Playin’ games, are ya?” he asks. “Or did ya already forget the way you were just tryin’ to make me come?”

“Is there a problem?” you ask back as the corner of your lip upturns ever so subtly. 

He takes a step towards you and you move back with it; another and you do the same. This continues only a few more paces until you run out of space and back into the edge of the table, allowing Simon to move in without a problem until his body is within a few feet of yours. Reaching out with one of those large hands he wraps it around your wrist and pulls your arm forward into him. 

“Oh, we ‘ave a big fuckin’ problem now, sweet,” he groans as he takes your hand and pins the palm just to the side of the zipper on his pants. You don’t even have to look down to know what he’s talking about as there is a hard, stiff peak that meets your touch; the tip of his cock strains against your hand as he presses your palm down over it. “See what ya did?” 

An unintentional moan escapes your lips at the feeling that you try to disguise with a cough, but Simon has already caught it. With a hook of his thumb under the cloth of his mask, he pries it up off of his mouth and in the same motion he jerks your arm past his body to pull you in the miniscule distance still between you both so that you are now plastered to his chest. Since his mask isn’t an issue anymore, his hand captures your chin in its grip and he holds on firmly. 

The intense domination of the movement feels like an ambush on your sanity and with that one simple motion he already has your heart fluttering just like he wants. You’ve played your little game and gotten him riled up, and it’s got him craving you so bad he can hardly keep his thoughts straight. Now it’s his turn at it and he isn’t going to stop until he has chipped away at your resolve so that you want him just as badly. 

Keeping his grip tight on your chin he cocks your head to the side to move it out of his way as he leans his face in towards the soft, tender skin that has been revealed to him just under your jawline. 

“Now, how’re we gonna fix this? Can’t go ‘round wit this thing at full attention,” his balmy breath travels over your skin as his lips rub along the side of your neck, the tip of his nose catching that sweet spot just behind your earlobe. 

The very faint stumble covering the lower half of his face prickles your skin as he presses his lips against you gently at first to let the feather-light pressure tantalize the flesh around that pulsing vein under your jawbone. He can feel it begin to race under his touch the quicker your heart pumps and he has to force himself to take a breath. To observe the physical reaction you have to him, to feel the way you come alive in his hands, it’s enough to bring him to his knees and if he isn’t careful he can easily lose himself.     

“Ya owe me–” he trails his kisses upward until his lips are pressed along your jaw “for–” those heated kisses keep going over the contour until he hovers right over your mouth, lips ghosting over yours just out of reach “–all that teasin’.”

You attempt to move in and collapse the distance between your mouths to zero, but his hold on your face keeps you at bay. Again you struggle to embrace his mouth and again he pulls you back and it’s clear what the game is now. If you want his kiss on your lips, you are going to have to meet his conditions. 

“What do you want?” you ask coyly as if there is anything else that he could possibly be after at this moment. 

Simon runs the tip of his stout tongue over the middle of his bottom lip as he stares at yours, the skin on your mouth growing redder with each erratic inhale of breath you take, before he drifts his gaze back up the short distance to your eyes. He admires how they shimmer with unspoken wants as he meets them again. 

You know full well that the door is locked, Simon is certain you heard him secure it since you were close. That means you both are cut off from the rest of the base while in here and with the meeting over, there is no reason for anyone to come around. The room is yours for as long as you want.

“Well, we’re all alone, luv,” he says. 

“Mmhmm,” you agree as if he’s asked a question.

Taking both his hands, he cradles the back of your head as his thumbs rest against your cheeks and he takes a step so that his hips block your body against the table. He inches in ever so carefully, making sure that his lips will not touch yours, but be just close enough that the agony caused from their proximity will make you fucking burn to feel them. It’s a game that he has perfected over his time with you and one he prides himself on being the master of. 

“Ya know what I fuckin’ want.” 

The heat from his warm breath wafts over your lips to make them tingle from the change in temperature. This close you can finally catch the scent of his natural musk mixing with the sharp notes of his spicy cologne and the smell reminds you of your sheets where the fragrance still lingers. It is overwhelming your senses until you feel delirious and out of control. 

“Wanna take ya on this fuckin’ table,” he breathes into your face in a growl the comes from somewhere deep inside. “Can’t wait.”

His voice is pure sex on a good day, but in these moments when his full attention is on you as he plays up the sultry notes of his tone to match his growing need, you can’t help the way you squeeze your legs together as a shudder of pleasure runs like icy water straight through to your core. 

“Undo - your - pants,” he orders, his deep, heavily accented voice breathy, but firm. “Now.”

Your pulse is pounding in your ears with your short, quick breaths and he takes the moment to tempt you further by having the tip of his tongue gracefully slither out of his mouth to catch the edge of your upper lip, lightly grazing the inner bit so that you shiver and it takes all your strength not to buckle at your knees and stumble in his grasp.  

Finally gaining control of your limbs through the haze spreading in your mind you move your hands over your abdomen, using touch alone to find the fastener at the front of your pants as he holds your head in place, forcing you to keep your eyes focused on him. Finally you locate the button and as swiftly as your shaky fingers can manage, you fidget with it till it opens and you can guide down the zipper. 

A ravenous grin spreads across Simon’s lips at the sound of your clothes being shed. It’s Pavlovian the way it immediately makes his mouth salivate with anticipation as he knows that soon he is about to enjoy a feast that includes all your delicious curves ready and begging for his special brand of ecstasy.

You’ve done what he’s asked and now you desperately want your reward, but you should know by now it isn’t going to be that easy. He is a man of mutual obsession and you’ve only barely just started to ache with the overwhelming intensity that he wants; he needs you in shambles just like he’s had to be this whole time as you stroked him under the table.  

“Please,” you plead tacitly as multiple words seem too cumbersome to have in your mouth.

Simon shakes his head. “Not yet. Push ‘em down,” he demands. “Take ‘em off.”   

You scramble to follow his dictation and grab onto the waistband of your pants, jerking them down over the curve of your rear and continuing until they are past your calves, slipping out of your boots so that you can step out of the fabric now bunched at your ankles. You stand back up straight and immediately those rough fingers are outlining the band on your panties just below the hem of your shirt and each time they graze over the tender skin of your pelvis, you gasp inaudibly into his face as the electricity from his touch makes your skin tingle. 

As one hand plays, the other that is cradled at the base of your skull draws your face to him. “Ya got me wantin’ ya so bad it fuckin’ stings,” he admits. “Is that what ya want, sweetheart? Ya want me a goddamn mess wheneva you’re around?”

His thumb tugs at the corner of your mouth as he drags it over your bottom lip and the action takes your breath so you have to forcefully catch it. “I want you to want me as bad as I want you,” you answer as your heartbeat hiccups in your chest.

Simon chuckles. “Greedy girl,” he says, drawing out the words, his voice getting more and more gravely. “Ya know how fuckin’ hard I was strugglin’ to not just throw ya on the table and take right there in front a everyone? Ya got me outta my goddamn mind insane for ya with just a touch.”

You look up at him with starry eyes, the kind of sight that makes him feel like you think he’s hung the fucking moon for you. “Take…me now…” you beg.

He can feel you tremble in his hands as you plead for your sanity and it pushes him to his breaking point. “That what ya want?” he asks. “Let me hear it, sweet.”

You nod without even having to think about it. “Please, Simon. Please. I haven’t stopped needin you since this morning. Just give it to me.”

Fuckin’ hell he is going to absolutely wreck you after that.

Tilting his head to one side he moves in and with a sharp inhale of breath before the plunge, he hauls your mouth to his and crashes his lips on yours. The deadly potency in his embrace knocks the little bit of air you just drew in from your lungs and in an instant you are left gasping for breath again while not wanting him to pull away.  

That huge, hulking body with all of its bulky muscles overwhelms your own as he pins himself harder against you, pushing your hips together to grind that stiff peak roughly against you with rocking movements, hips rolling into you again and again until you join him as your frantic fingers rip the jacket off his shoulders and down his arm so that you can feel his skin under your hands.   

His mouth is insatiable, stealing sloppy, desperate kisses one after another until your lips burn from the abrasion. The contrast between the rough way he embraces you with the delicately smooth feel of his lips is a sensory overload in the best way. Those long fingers of both of his hands are now tangled in the strands of your hair at the back of your head, not wanting to give you the chance to get away from the harshness of his lips as he claims your mouth as his. 

You match his energy and your fingers find the hem of his mask that still clings to his face and you slip them up underneath to pry it off the rest of the way so that you can caress the back of his head and make him buckle from the shiver as you run your fingertips over his scalp. He holds you tighter as a blunt grunt of pleasure vibrates up from his chest and he breathes it into your open mouth for you to swallow down. He is so caught up in the passion of the moment that he nips aggressively at your lower lip until you gasp as it stings so good. 

The warmth from his breath tingles along the raw skin of your mouth as he buries his nose in your cheek the harder he pushes in. No matter how close you are, it isn’t enough; he wants…no he needs to be closer. He isn’t sure yet if he likes being the type of man that goes feral with an insatiable appetite for his lover, but if you are going to be greedy with wanting his attention he is going to be greedy in the way he reciprocates it.

You are suddenly on the move as Simon easily slides his strong hands up under your arms and picks you up to set you on top of the sturdy table, tugging behind your knees to pull you forward so that you are at the very edge of the surface. You hadn’t realized how warm you are until the instant the cool table touches the bare skin on the back of your legs.

A hum vibrates in his chest as he rubs the length of your thighs before he lockes his hands around them to pry them apart and moving in with his palm, he slides it up into the crotch of your panties and cups his wide hand up over your sex.

“F-fuck,” you whimper as he presses down to pin your lips up into your clit. “I need…I need…”

“Whatcha need, sweet?” he asks through panting breaths as he pulls back and pushes in again, making you squeak out a high pitched whine. “Tell me, use your words.”

You swallow hard. “Need… your fingers…” you struggle to say as he does the same maneuver again.

“Does that sweet little clit need my attention?” he asks. “Achin’ for my touch? Ya think I should jus’ give it to ya after the mess ya made a me when I couldn’t even get at ya yet?”

He keeps his hand pinned down and the pressure makes your hips buck in reaction. “I know… I know…” you stammer out the sloppy confession as you fight to create any words at all. “Couldn’t help it.”

If he had been in a more calm state, he would have liked to tell you to get yourself started to see how you’d follow his directions, and then if you did a good enough job he would come in, but Simon wants to feel you just as much as you crave his touch. The strangle you have on his sanity is making him lose it fast and there isn’t much time he is going to be able to spare, but even in his inebriated state as he slowly drowns in your ecstasy, his mind concocts a devilish plan. 

Maybe he can have both his cake and finger it too.

Suddenly he takes your hand in his, wrapping his larger one over top while making you match the way his two middle fingers stick out with yours, and forces them both to descend down the tingling skin of your lower abdomen into the front of your underwear as he rests against you with foreheads touching. Working your combined fingers in tandem, Simon parts through the lips of your pussy and moves both sets right up against that tiny bundle of nerves just above your core.

“Already wet, pretty girl?” he groans with a hiss as his finger makes contact with a bit of warm moisture once inside. “Not enough, though. I want ya fuckin’ drippin’ for me. And we’re gonna do this how I want. Now we’re gonna make ya a mess so I don’t feel so alone.”

It hasn’t left his mind that this isn’t the safest place to be, that even though the room is only used on those weekly occasions when Price gathers his personnel to keep everyone up to speed, even though the space is vacated and the door locked, there is no guarantee that someone won’t try and get in. He has to be quick, but he is going to do this right. 

Simon expertly guides your finger over your clit in that very distinct way that he does it, rubbing in concise circles over the nub with both of your fingers, using a bit of light pressure as your knees fall apart to give him more access and it doesn’t take long until your mouth falls open so that all those pretty sounds can escape unhindered just as you know he likes.

Their sound only adds fuel to his desire. Having him pilot your movements, forcing you to pleasure yourself under his control, adds another level of euphoria that he had not previously thought possible. Fuck, does he feel powerful to take you like this, both of you working together until your wetness dribbles down his fingers as the heat warms his hand.  

His face is so close to yours that he can use your breath to fill his lungs as he runs out of air; the only thing he wants to sustain his life at this moment. Breathing you in, tasting you, feeling you; he only wants to be consumed by you like a man possessed. He has never needed anyone in the way he needs you and the more he causes you to sing, the more he has to be sure that no one else can ever satisfy you the way that he can. It’s his mission now to completely ruin you for anyone else.

Your legs start to shake as the pressure continues to build from the sensitivity and your calves crush his hips as a pitiful whimper you let out sends him over the edge and drives him insane in his already weakened state. There is no stopping the feral part of his brain from taking over to guide his movements and suddenly your clit isn’t the only thing he wants to play with; he needs to fill you.

You can feel your hand on the move, slithering down until the tips of both your fingers reach your entrance. And quickly they ascend up into you to stretch you out as your legs vibrate, the flood of blood to your cheeks making your face burn like you’re on fire as he keeps shoving up inside until he reaches the amalgamation of your combined knuckles. He keeps his eyesight down to watch the way your hands make your panties bulge as your pussy is filled with the both of you.

The unexpected fullness causes your back to arch and your head to fall back as you struggle to stifle a desperately loud cry from being stretched. Instantly Simon drags your head up and harshly connects your lips with overwhelming savagery to stop the sound from getting out, sucking it down his throat with his mouth pressed to you so securely as you continue to groan in short bursts until you finally are able to calm yourself enough to keep your volume down.  

Your body grips both of your fingers tight as he begins to rhythmically work at your G spot with rough and intense movements, unable to calm down. The harder he goes the more dampness covers the fingers inside you and it drips down onto the back of his hand and begins to stick to the inside of your thighs. Your walls flutter around his fingers the more they swell and that lets him know that you’re close. His pulse is racing to feel it, that moment you come; no single sensation ever gives him more pleasure than being the reason you fall apart.

Your hips begin to grind onto your hands for more friction. “Fuck…fuck…” you mutter in agony under your breath. It’s nearly there, just a bit more. 

Stroking and grinding, stroking and grinding, it feels like an eternity stuck at the edge of that cliff as the warmth gathering in the pit of your stomach grows in intensity, but suddenly and without warning, like a wave washing over you, that warmth reaches its peak and shoots through you as you fall over the edge.  

Simon makes you ride out your orgasm on your fingers until you settle and only then does he gently pull your hands out from your still quivering core and up out of your panites, never letting you go. He holds them up and your fingers glisten with the product of his work under the fluorescent lighting. After taking a few seconds just to admire the way they look he locks eyes with you and holds your gaze as he brings those coated digits on your hand straight up to his mouth and sucks them inside that wet cavern. He uses his tongue to swirl around your fingers to clean them, sucking on them thoroughly to get all the taste of you off and you nearly faint from the erotic nature of his action. 

The way he has no shame when it comes to enjoying every bit of you is staggering to behold. He is insatiable and you can’t get enough.

Giving your hand back, Simon steps up right against you between your legs as his hand slips between your bodies and he shifts his hips slightly so that he can undo his belt buckle, then the button on his jeans, and finally pull down the zipper. Sticking his hand inside the shadowed recesses of his boxers, he pulls out and releases that thick, veiny appendage that has been throbbing for far too long without relief. It stands at attention and bobs with his pulse, a mouth-watering view of all that girth ready just for you. 

The knuckle of his finger bushes over your still overly sensitive cunt as he hooks the digit into the seam at the crotch of your ruined panties and jerks them to the side out of his way before the tip of his cock presses into your petals. So slowly he guides himself past that first barrier in through your lips and carefully he strokes his cock in your cum, coating himself in the heated moisture his touch produced. 

Calloused fingers suddenly divide through the strands of your hair at the back of your head so that his grip is securely woven into you as the others dig into your hip. “You drive me wild, pretty girl,” he says with covetous aggression, “but if ya ain’t careful, I may not be able to contain myself like I did today. So unless ya want me ta fuck ya in front a everyone, you’re gonna wait till we’re alone to start things, yeah?”

You nod in agreement.

“Then I’ll make sure ta get ya so fuckin’ good,” he whispers as he pulls out just enough so that he adjust himself to align his swollen tip with your entrance. “Won’t let ya go till you’re satisfied, promise.” 

He prods against the opening, pushing up against it until you feel drunk on the feeling of anticipation as you wait impatiently for when he finally thrusts hard enough to get all that girth in. “Lift your hips,” he hurriedly demands and you lean back on your hands to help angle your pelvis upward.

Those coffee-colored eyes meet yours one last time as his hand gives your hair a tug. “Let’s finish this right, yeah?” he breathes and his hips snap forward as he pulls yours down.

The moment the tip breaks through the threshold of your body you both involuntarily share a gasp between your open mouths. You are so wet and clearly more than ready to take him, but he still has to pace himself getting in or else he’s going to come before he’s had a chance to really fuck you good. Still your body sucks him in every single inch he gives you until he reaches the base of his shaft where he pauses. 

The width of his cock pushes against your walls until they form around the contours perfectly and his hand on your hip burrows harder into the skin in an attempt to let any other feeling get through the overwhelming sensation of being inside you so that he can last. He focuses back on your face where your eyes are shut tight and something about that just won’t do. He wants those blown-out pupils that rest behind closed lids to be fixated on him as if he is the only thing in the entire fuckin’ world that you crave to look at.

Because you are the only thing in his.  

“Eh, eyes on me, sweet,” he growls desperately to get your attention back. “Need ta fuckin’ see ‘em. That’s it, just like that.”

You open your eyes and your aching gaze renders Simon speechless. How in the fuck did he get so lucky to call you his and why in the hell didn’t he make that happen sooner? Without any more of a pause he begins to thrust in and out of you with a ferocity that makes your body burn as his desire overtakes him. Each stroke stretches you out more until the sting subsides and all that’s left is the satisfying euphoria that comes with being filled so full.

Your cheeks feel like they are glowing and on fire as thrusts after thrust he pounds into you, stretching you and filling you to the brim on all of his passion for your body as the sound of slapping skin against skin fills the silent space, accentuated by the sound of threads snapping as your panties are stretched to the point of ripping. Panting heavily into your face with mouth open, chest heaving up and down with laborious breaths, Simon unleashes himself upon you.

“Fuck,” he says, jaw hanging slack with desire, “wish ya could see how pretty ya look right now.”

Harder and harder he thrusts into you until the table begins to rock with him as he shoves his fat cock as far up into you it almost hits the back of your cervix. He desperately tries to keep the pace even, but it is reaching the point of no return.  

“Ya feel so fuckin’ good, baby,” he stutters with a groan low and guttural as he starts the feel that pressure again building at the base of his spine, ready to shoot through him at any second of he keeps this up. “So fuckin’ good. Can’t ever get enough of ya.”

You buck against him, meeting his movements with your own as you use your legs wrapped around his hips as leverage. The risky nature of your triste barely registers anymore as the stimulation from his cock hitting that sweet spot over and over again inside you clouds all your thoughts except one: the need to come. And it is fast approaching the longer he goes until it is right fucking there; all he has to do is keep going.

“Shit, don’t stop Simon,” you plead in distress to him, your toes curling into the air as you focus on your erratic breathing. 

“Tha’s it, sweet, come for me,” he growls, “Come all over my fuckin’ cock.” 

His pace is relentless as he pumps with those powerful thrusts that bury him deep within you, unyielding and relentless with his need to render you completely satisfied. And just like that everything comes to a head with a shudder as your orgasm rockets through you fiery hot, making your body writhe in his grasp. You squeak out in a whine before you clamp your lips together tight to make sure you can stay as quiet as you can as you ride out the depth of your pleasure on his cock. God, it doesn’t stop, second after second it just keeps building stronger and stronger. Simon does not let up and soon you are whining from the over-stimulation.

He isn’t far behind though and it doesn’t take many more strong thrusts until the warmth that had been building to this point twice now finally shoots through his body, coursing like a burning river of fire through his veins as he rips his cock out of you and through your thighs as he pulls up your shirt over your tits to cover your stomach in sticky semen as he comes hard.

Leaning forward, Simon opens his mouth and latches it fully onto your collarbone through the fabric of your shirt, digging his teeth into the muscle to keep himself quiet as he milks himself dry with your thighs. He grinds up into those juicy bits of your legs as he grunts laboriously into the muscle of your shoulder so that it vibrates from the intensity while his wide hips continue rolling upward until he has nothing left to give and his shoulders slump forward with exhaustion as he comes to a stop.   

The muscles of his arms are shaking as he releases your shoulder from his mouth. “Goddamn, sweetheart,” he says out of breath, wrapping his arms around you to hold you close, “I ain’t ever been to a meetin’ that ended this way, but Christ should they.” 

You chuckle as you incline up into his face to catch his mouth in your embrace. Releasing his lips, you are met with a contented smile as he strokes your cheek sweetly with his thumb. You both know you need leave, you’ve spent too much time here already, but Simon just can’t let you go. At least, not yet. Not when you look so good in that post-coital hazy state of bliss that it makes his heart flutter.  

series

virgin!eddie | part i // ii // iii // iiii // v // vi | smut | x reader | 13.9k

oneshots

i get off | smut | x reader | 1.4k

hysteria | smut | x reader | 3.2k

she's got the look | smut | x plus size!reader | 2.1k

don't you want me baby | smut | x plus size!reader | 2.3k

living dead girl (kas!eddie) | smut/noncon | x reader | 3.7k

knocking on heavens door | smut | x reader | 1.7k

lay your hands on me | smut | x reader | 3.9k

the sex is good | smut | x reader | 3.7k

'what're you wearing?' | smut/phone sex | x reader | 2k

'you're cute when you beg' | smut | x reader | 1.5k

'you wanna get cucked by steve?' | smut | eddie + steve x reader | 2.1k

two for the price of one | smut | eddie + steve x reader | 1.3k

'you want some help with that?' | smut | eddie + steve x reader | 2.8k

this must be the place | smut | eddie + steve x reader | 8.6k

like a secret in your throat | smut | eddie x steve | 1.1k

isn't that so sad | angst/mental health | eddie x steve | 1.9k

blurbs

'go on, what else would i like?' | smut | x reader | 1k

'are you that easy for me?' | smut | x reader | 1.7k

'those are gonna be hard to cover up' | smut | x reader | 1.1k

'i bet i could make you squirt' | smut | x reader | 1.1k

'same time tomorrow?' | smut | x reader | 1.1k

'you'll take what i give you' | BULLY!EDDIE smut | x reader | 1.6k

'dunno, eddie. i feel funny.' | BULLY!EDDIE smut/piss kink | x reader | 1.1k

'sorry? too little too late.' | BULLY!EDDIE smut/dubcon | x reader | 1.1k

'i need to see you cum.' | VIRGIN!EDDIE smut | x reader | 1k

grower not a shower | smut | x reader | 1k

eddie & steve dp | smut | eddie + steve x reader | 1.5k

virgin!eddie watching porn | smut/phone sex | x reader | 1.2k

rockstar!eddie signing your tits | smut | x reader | 1.2k

drabbles

'who's the desperate idiot now?' | smut | x reader | 672 words

'tell me, was he as good as me?' | smut/dubcon | x reader | 1k

save a horse, ride a cowboy | smut | x reader | 503 words

'your perfect little nose' | smut | x reader | 248 words

'fucking hate you, munson' | smut | x reader | 557 words

'you think bad girls deserve to cum?' | smut | x reader | 866 words

'shit sweetheart, didn't see you there.' | smut | eddie + steve x reader | 730 words

'so desperate you couldn't wait, huh?' | smut | x reader | 495 words

‘s’not all gonna fit is it?’ | smut | x reader | 945 words

'oh shit, sorry, m'gonna-' | smut | x reader | 246 words

eddie fucks fat girls | smut | x reader | 362 words

eddie 'minuteman' munson | smut | x reader | 200 words

edging eddie until he cries | smut | x reader | 847 words

perv!eddie likes to make you squirt | smut | x reader | 246 words

modern day!eddie + reddit | fluff | x reader | 449 words

eddie + sick reader | fluff | x reader | 537 words

'i never thought you could hurt me like this' | angst | x reader | 630 words

'here comes the airplane' | fluff | x reader | 266 words

'i was gonna knock your socks off' | fluff | x reader | 461 words

eddie and your daughter | fluff | x reader | 383 words

eddie finds out you're pregnant | angst | x reader | 659 words

updated january 14th '24

“Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore…”

-Edgar Allen Poe, The Raven

Starting 10/01/23

Masterlist

Handjob - Neteyam

Eating Out - Neteyam

Thigh Riding - Tsireya

Choking/Spanking - Lo’ak

Daddy Kink - Jake

Blindfolded - Neteyam

Blowjob - Lo’ak

Voyeurism - Lo’ak

Accidental Stimulation - Neteyam

Knife Play - Quaritch

Restraints - Recom!Neteyam

Fingering - Tsu’tey

In Public - Neteyam

Sixty-Nine - Jake

Size Difference - Neteyam

Toys - Spider

Begging - Neteyam

Mirror Sex - Neteyam

Threesome - Neteyam/Ralak

Edging - Neteyam

Phone/Throat Comm Sex - Neteyam

In The Shower/Tub/River/Ocean - Ralak

Biting - Neteyam

Rough - Werewolf!Neteyam

Caught Masturbating - Neteyam

Overstimulation - Neteyam

Anal - Lo'ak

Praise/Degradation - Tonowari

Dirty Talk - Neteyam

Mutual Masturbation - Neteyam

A/B/O - Neteyam

Patience my sweets...Titles and characters will be progressively updated✨

Kinktober guidelines by @pandoraslxna

art student!reader x life drawing model!Eddie Munson

E 18+, so nsfw Words: 7048 read on ao3

find the sequel here

Paint It Black Summery: You’re frustrated with your latest work and look for distraction by attending the open life drawing class on what looks like a very ordinary Thursday. Eddie, the new model, is everything but ordinary but definitely a distraction.

CW/tags: characters somewhere in their twenties, meet-wild, smut, fluff, some sort of voyeurism/public erection, gets a little rough, unprotected sex, piv penetration, oral for everybody, v fingering, biting, love marks, talky sex, aftercare, art school bullshit, messy sex, artsy sex (I guess), love at first sight (I guess)

A/N: @edsforehead made me do it. (thank you so much)

comments and reblogs are so appreciated

The air is cold, stinging your cheeks as you ride your bike through a clear and crisp winter morning. It does wonders for waking you up and clearing your mind; you had spent way too long in your studio last night, hovering over this painting that just wouldn’t go the way you wanted. Inside your mind, you hoisted it off the wall to place it right in the middle of the room, a bucket of thick black paint in one hand, the other one dipping in until the medium reached your wrist. You drop down to your knees and get to work, blacking the wretched thing out one large swoop of your arm after another, sending hours of work into oblivion.

Oh my, it was so tempting. Your fingertips tickle with the urge to turn your frustration into something wild and rough and… simple.

But your Professor had sworn to make your life very hard if he ever got wind of you destroying one of your works again, so you followed the advice he had given you: You had decided to take a break. Do something different, something simple, something rewarding and easy to clear your mind to recharge your drained batteries.

So it is Thursday and you crawled out of bed after four measly hours of sleep to go to the life drawing class. You are early as always to get one of the good spots. The small auditorium is still empty except for your teacher who is busy untangling the cords of the various space heaters that will keep the model warm for the next hours.

“Ah,” he says as he sees you, “haven’t seen you here in a while.”

“Yeah, been busy wasting paint.” You smile and walk down the steps of the middle aisle and drop your bag on the best chair: first platform, second chair on the right from the aisle. It had the perfect distance and angle and the top of the backrest of first row to put your feet on so you could rest your paper on your thighs and wouldn’t have to struggle through two hours and a half hours of numb feet.

“Good decision to waste some graphite instead today,” your teacher says and grins. “I’m excited to see your progress.”

You hum, unpacking your supplies. “Who’s the model today? Someone familiar?”

“No, actually, I finally could recruit someone new. He should already be here though. Maybe he has difficulties finding us.” The building was old and could be confusing if you never set foot in it before.

“He,” you say, sharpening your pencil. “Guess it’s my lucky day.”

Male models were rare - maybe two out of ten sessions - and you start to get excited about coming in today.

Your teacher climbs up the stairs past you, “I’ll go and see if he’s wandering around somewhere.”

 —

The room fills with students; you say your How are you?’s and What are you working on?’s and when the clock shows 9:37, you brace yourself for the session getting cancelled. Just then, the door opens and your teacher hurries down the stairs.

“Good morning everybody. Sorry for the delay, our model got lost in our hallways. Let’s hear: anybody working on something particular and has some requests for poses?”

You crane your neck up to the back of the room towards the overflowing coat rack while your teacher keeps going through the usual procedure.

The model’s back is turned and you see a long black coat being shrugged off of lean shoulders and underneath: more black. Black lines of ink meandering out of the sleeves of a black shirt; a harsh contrast against pale skin. Ringed hands come up to the back of his head to put the long dark wavy hair into a bun.

No! you plead internally, surprised by that strong reaction.

He chooses the far left aisle down, almost disappearing behind the rows of students but your eyes follow him with a burning curiosity as if you wouldn’t get the chance to look at him for hours in a moment. You shake your head and open your sketchbook to do just anything but stare. There was a difference between observing and staring and the latter wasn’t fucking appropriate inside this room.

“Everybody,” your teacher announces, “this is Eddie. Eddie has never done this before so be patient and just let him know if he’s moving too much.”

You look up and grind your teeth. This Eddie is fucking gorgeous.

“Uhm, hi!” he smiles into the room then looks back at your teacher. “So, uh, I just get naked or what?”

Everybody laughs, but you don’t. You’re taking a long slow breath.

“That’s the general idea,” your teacher grins. “You can put your things on that table in the corner and then just come back to this spot.”

But Eddie does not move to the mentioned corner, he simply pulls off his shirt and throws it the distance to the table. More tattoos come to light; all black, no color. He then kicks off his shoes and you watch his fingers as they open his belt and his fly, how they lodge into the hem of his black, frayed jeans and pull them down in one swoop. There are giggles as he throws the bundle, aiming at the table like he’s at the bowling alley, completely naked.

And then you realize, Eddie didn’t wear any underwear.

“The rings too, please.”

“Oh, sure.” He picks them off his fingers; one two three from one hand and one more from the other. Eddie looks at them on his palm for a moment and grins. “Nah, not gonna throw those.”

The class giggles again as Eddie takes two three long strides to the table to put his rings down carefully and prances back, taking his spot in the middle of the small platform surrounded by space heaters.

There is a soft crack coming from your lap and you look down to see that you had pushed your pencil to the paper so hard that you’d broken the tip.

—

It’s as always: a series of short poses to warm up. One minute, then three and up from there.

Except it is not like always. You're flustered, you’re hot and you spend way too long staring, not finishing any of the one-minute poses.

This has never happened to you before and you had been presented with a lot of good-looking people over the years but this guy was something else.

Three-minute poses and Eddie is slouched back in a chair, long legs spread, left arm resting on top of his head, the right one on his thigh. This was sinful. You just corrected the angle of his left thigh for the third time when you look up and find him looking right back at you. No lost glance into the distance over your shoulder, no: your eyes meet. And those eyes are big and dark and curious and he holds the gaze for several seconds before the timer beeps and announces the change of poses.

He’s not only beautiful and scorching hot but also incredibly adorable. He’s giddy between poses, shaking his arms and legs - and with that his cute little ass - bouncing on his toes and you start to think that holding still normally isn’t his forte. When he lies on his belly, soft gaze on the floor, he tries to stifle a yawn once, twice and only lets it out when he’s allowed to move again. You like his dedication.

Five-minute poses and you finally get into the flow; things start to make sense on the paper until you find him looking at you again. And not only that: he mouthes a small 'Hi'. You bite your lip and look down, feeling the looks of some of the students on you.

He’s cross-legged, leaning back, hands braced on the ground behind him. The angle is weird and it doesn’t help that the way his lean, inked chest moves every time he takes a breath makes you want to bite down on those sharp collarbones. You hold your sketchpad in your outstretched arms doing those quick back-and-forth glances to find out where to correct the mess when his eyes move back to you. Every time you meet his gaze makes your spine tingle more and more and you have to bite down on your lip again to not let a fucking noise slip from your mouth.

Ten-minute poses and your teacher has made it to you to give you some feedback. Nothing you hadn’t expected: you go about it too complicated, want to do too much in too little time, too much detail. Eddie is stretched out on his back and smirks towards the ceiling.

On the next round of feedback, he tells you to really look at Eddie’s hips. You get the angle wrong, it throws off the stance, and you know why all your stupid drawings look a little wonky: you try to avoid looking at his cock for too long. You never thought about a penis as a cock before in this class and it drives you up the walls seeing it twitch slightly while your teacher keeps explaining things you already know and you’re forced to stare at Eddie's crotch, knowing he's side-eying you and your flustered expression the whole. Damn. Time.

Eddie gets a brief pause to stretch and have some water and you want revenge. While his back is turned to you - shoulder blades rippling deliciously under his skin - you open the top two buttons of your blouse, sliding the collar off your shoulder.

One final five-minute pose before the session ends with a twenty-fiver and Eddie is crouched down with his knees pulled under his chin. He shuffles a little before he really settles, tilting his head slightly in a way that forces him to look in your direction unless he wants to lower his eyes to the floor for five minutes.

When he finally looks up, you’re waiting for him, head titled yourself exposing the side of your neck down to your shoulder where your bra strap is barely holding onto your skin.

Eddie’s eyes widen and you smile, tongue poking out just a little to lick your bottom lip before you focus on the paper in your lap to roughly map out the pose. You don’t linger on him while you draw, quick glances only, but you can feel his gaze heavy on you.

This sketch is turning out to be the best so far. You lean back a little, biting down on the back of your pencil and start rolling your shoulders. One gets stiff sitting like that for so long, so people stretch all the time and nobody will notice that you’re giving Eddie a little show. You tilt your head to the right and run a hand over the muscles in your neck, massaging the achy spot right beyond your skull for a moment. When you give in to look down at him, you do it from under your lashes, taking the pencil stuck in your mouth between two fingers and let your tongue play with it ever so slightly.

Eddie takes a deep breath; you can see it in the way his shoulders rise and his knees are pressed forward. You grin and he pulls up his brows and you can’t tell if he begs you to stop or go on.

Twenty-five-minute pose and the crowd demands him to stand.

“Twenty-five minutes of standing is ok?” your teacher asks Eddie, who hasn’t jumped up like a spring toy after the timer rang.

“Uhm, yeah,” he says, legs still drawn to his torso. “Sure thing, uh-hn.”

It takes him another beat to push himself up and come to a stand. Your eyes wander from the top of his cheeks, tinted in a pretty pink, down to those hips to find him not exactly half hard, but on a good way to it. You feel your eyes roll up.

Shit.

Your teacher instructs him how to stand, feet wider apart - a little more, perfect - arms crossed over his chest which too is now slightly pink. His biceps’ flex a few times as he waits for more instructions.

“Can you turn a little, to the left?” a guy in the top row asks and Eddie does.

“Like this?”

Like this you get him in a three-quarter-view and your heart is racing; will he look at you again or did you push it too far?

“Anything else?” your teacher asks and you want to bite down on your tongue but instead it’s moving and forming words.

“Can we have the hair down for this last one?”

Eddie’s head snaps up, catching you in the middle of your request. He pinches his eyes shut at the approval of your fellow students. Below the waist, he’s twitching again.

Loosening his hair tie, Eddie musses around in his dark waves with practised fingers until he seems satisfied with what he sees in the mirror across the room. You suppress a moan, breaking the tip of your pencil again. He’s not looking at you, this time choosing to turn down his eyes while his face points in your general direction again. You curse at yourself internally; you should have just gone to him after the session and slipped him your number or asked him if he was busy after this while the both of you were still flooded with whatever this was and—

Shit!

Whatever Eddie is thinking while not looking at you did not help with what was going on in his loins. That pretty cock was getting bigger: half-hard-hello! And judging by his current state, he was big. You involuntarily grind your hips on your chair and drop your pencil in the process. A groan escapes you, sounding much too pleasant for a case of dropped art supplies and you bend down to get it back. When you come up, brown eyes are waiting for you. There is a smile playing around them while his pretty pink lips are slightly pressed together. Thank god he doesn’t look mad or annoyed, only the blush giving away that something was going on.

You can’t help it, you’re biting your lip, eyes wandering between his face and his cock and his brows draw slightly together before he averts his eyes again, breathing a few times: deep and slow.

Deep and slow.

Holy shit you are throbbing and wet and all you can do is fake another stretch and while shuffling around, press your thighs together for a little bit of friction. You tilt your hips down slightly and the sensation is so good and welcome that your eyes pinch close and your back arches. The movement is jerkily and you stretch your arms over your head to conceal it, slowly opening your eyes again.

Eddie is watching. Eddie is hard.

You grab your pencil and start drawing the spectacle in front of you; concentration isn’t the right word for the sharp focus that settles over you. It’s fucking lust.

It’s not the first hard-on you’ve seen in this class, not by any means. It happens now and then and usually a slight blush from the model was the only reaction. But this wasn’t any hard dick: you did this. You did this to this gorgeous man and you wanted to capture this with your own hands. In case he just bolted right after the session, you would have something to remember this.

You’re leaning in, literally, sketch pad balancing on your knees and bent over your thighs you almost forget the additional loosened buttons on your blouse until you catch those eyes directed at your chest. Seems like Eddie figured the damage was done anyway so why hold back now?

And fucking hell was that precum glistening at the tip?

 This is when the timer starts announcing the end of class.

Eddie shoots you one final look, a sharp grin, a slight shake of the head, tips of his hair tickling his shoulders and hops off his little platform to get dressed.

“Holy shit,” says the guy next to you, leaning over. “Have you seen that dick?”

You huff a laugh that throbs in your pussy. “Hard to overlook.”

“Exactly,” he groans and picks up his things.

—

You look at drawings of Eddie of all kinds. They are all beautiful, even the bad ones. You rub your forehead catching that corny thought and look across the room where Eddie is talking to two people, gesturing to the drawings on the floor, laughing. The two of you are slowly moving towards each other. The journey consists of looking, talking: This is a good one! and That one is crap, right? and glancing to your right. You reach the row with your own stuff, groaning internally at how very off everything looks, everything but two.

Suddenly, a chest presses to your back and an arm sneaks past you to point at a drawing.

“That’s amazing.”

The explosion in your insides barely travels to your voice and you’re impressed with yourself. He even smells amazing. “Thank you.”

“Oh, that’s one of yours then?”

You turn to face him. The smile on his face is obscene.

“Hi.”

“Hi, Eddie.”

The smile shrinks a little and his nostrils flare with the air he pulls in. His voice is low and deep when he speaks. “You… uh, made that a very hard job to do.”

“I’m almost sorry,” you croon. His face is way too close; one uptilt of your head and you could bite his plush bottom lip.

“Don’t be,” he licks the spot you just imagined nibbling on. “I didn’t start it for nothing.”

You both jump when someone hijacks your moment. “Those detailed studies are really nice.”

“Yeah, right?” Eddie says with genuine enthusiasm. “Almost the only ones who got some of my tattoos…”

“Uhg, tattoos are hard in that short time, man and you know, not really anatomy.”

The exchange goes back and forth a little longer until Eddie loops his arm under yours and not so causally pulls you in the direction you’d come from under the disguise of looking at sketches.

“So, uh, what are you doing, like, right after this?”

“You, I hope.”

“Shit…” he shakes his head, hair falling into his face. “You’re killing me already… where do you want to go?”

You think about this for a moment, greedy and soaking through your panties you’re in no mood to wait much longer to have him naked again.

“I have a studio two corridors down…”

His brows shoot up. “You ahm…” he blurts out, then lowers his voice, “want to do me here at school?”

“Yes, Eddie… like the pretty little muse you are.”

—

His hand is warm in yours as you pull him along behind you through the hallway past your fellow students who throw curious glances over their shoulders.

Eddie catches up to your side and leans close to your ear, “Are you already wet for me? The way you moved on that chair…”

“Drenched,” you breathe against his neck and almost stumble over your own feet. Eddie sneaks his arm around you, keeping you steady.

“Easy, sweetheart. Let me be the one to bruise you, ok? I’ll do it in aaall the nice places.”

You stare at him, mouth hanging open.

“Promise,” he adds, tapping the tip of your nose, a devilish smile spreading on his face.

You drag him on and he laughs behind you until he catches up again. There is a brief moment where you leave him in the middle of the empty foyer to get your key from the doorman, interrupting his lunch break, praying to whoever deity will listen to your horny call that none of your studio mates is in there already. You almost moan when the guy hands the key to you and you bump into Eddie’s chest face first when you turn around in a hurry.

“Fuck you’re so pretty,” he rasps, takes your face in his large hands and bends down to press a hot kiss to your mouth. Your fists close around the lapel of his coat as he licks along your teeth until your tongue finds him. The world around you feels vague and unimportant until the doorman behind you knocks against the glass of his booth.

“I don’t need to see this, folks.”

This time Eddie takes your hand and walks on. “Show me the way, babe, or I’ll have to hoist you up one of those windowsills… you people are doing performance art here, right?”

Eddie is mumbling filthy things at you the whole way down the empty corridor where your shared studio is the last room on the left. You try to fumble the key into the lock and drop it because Eddie is already busy bruising your neck. Pressed flat to your back he brushed your hair to the side and started sucking at the spot just below your ear, his hands sneaking around you, cupping your tits through your blouse. As you bend down to pick up the key, Eddie grabs your hips and rolls his own against you, almost pushing you into the door. You both laugh and he pulls you up by your waist.

“Sorry,” he chuckles as you finally unlock the door. “I couldn’t help myself.”

You let him inside and lock the door behind you.

“What’s your workspace?” he asks, already poking his nose into things. “No! Don’t tell me… it’s… this one.”

“How did you know?” you ask surprised, taking off your coat and fully unbuttoning your blouse while he looks at your work lined up on the wall, hand on his chin like a proper little art critic.

“Well, I saw your drawings and this stuff here… it has the same… Duktus?”

“Christ,” you moan and he looks at you. “That was so sexy.”

“Hey, you’re starting without me?”

Eddie rushes to you, hands instantly sliding inside your open blouse against your bare skin. His hands are rough, calloused in some places and the slight scratch is making you shiver in his arms. He pulls the fabric off of you and drops it to the ground. His coat falls next, then his shirt. Eddie hisses as you sink your teeth into his collarbone as soon as you have access to them.

“Too much?”

His eyes are lidded and so very dark as he shakes his head. “Just start pulling my hair too and you’ll never get rid of me again…”

“That a threat or another promise?” you purr as you open his belt and fly over the impressive bulge in his pants.

“Which one turns you on more?” You hook your fingers into his waistband and drop to your knees, pulling his pants down with you, making his breath hitch. “Oh, s-shit…”

This is the close-up you've been yearning for all morning. Fully hard and flushed a deep pink already; you wonder if it will feel as heavy on your tongue as it looks. You run a finger along the underside and it twitches again, bobbing up and down in front of your face. You lean in, stick out your tongue and give the swollen tip a lick that makes Eddie whimper above you.

Again you meet his eyes and the expression in them is so unexpectedly soft that you almost whimper too. Your cunt is clenching around horrible nothingness as you lick him again, flat tongue sliding along the underside, feeling a vein, tasting salt, watching those big brown eyes roll up and close as a moan escapes him.

“You’re gorgeous, holy shit.” You firmly grip his cock around the base and stroke him a few times, your mouth watering, before you close your lips around the tip, your tongue swirling in lazy circles around it. Eddie’s breath is uneven and laced with soft moans from his glistening parted lips while you softly play around with his cock. Every twitch of his face is a delight, the way his abdomen tenses when you press small kisses to the length of his shaft makes you swoon with adoration. You reach up one hand to trace up the lines of a tattoo on his ribcage and he catches it, pressing it flat against his chest. Eddie’s heartbeat pounds against your palm and you moan around his cock.

“Holy… fuck… I wanna watch you so bad but I don’t know if I can take it.”

“You can take it, big boy,” you say in a low voice. “Look at me.”

It takes him a few more seconds until he opens his eyes and looks down at you; the moment you lock eyes you take him down as far as you can. A string of loud but mostly intangible curses echoes through the large room as you suck him down again and again in long leisurely motions. Your lips stretched around his girth curl up into a smile when his hands look for something to hold onto in your hair and you place your index finger at the corner of your mouth without stopping your onslaught to signal him to keep the volume down.

“Sorry, ah fuck fuck FUCK… I’ll try… shit I’m balls deep in your mouth and still don’t know your name—”

You don’t want to stop, not even for the moment to tell him your name. There’s a big portfolio folder leaning against the wall and you point in the general direction before running your fingers through the dark curls around his base and up the trail to his stomach while he’s trying to figure out what you’re showing him, failing at his attempt to stay quiet.

Then he says it: your name, no, he moans it. And he doesn’t fucking stop.

Suddenly your abdomen is on fire and you have to pull back to catch your breath. But you can’t, not really, because Eddie has kicked off his pants the rest of the way, dropped to the floor and pushed you to your back to peel you out of your clothes.

The floor is cold under your ass and back and you thump your head a little as he wraps his arms around your thighs and pulls you closer to him.

“Shit, you okay?”

“Yeah,” you giggle, “keep manhandling me.”

Eddie grins like the devil himself and goes to work. He’s everywhere: kissing, lapping biting at your mouth, your jaw your neck your tits, his fingers pushed into your thighs and you know it will bruise. He’s keeping his promise, leaving wet tingling marks all over you, a purple trail of small galaxies. His fingers find your cunt, finally, and Eddie eats the moan out of your mouth.

“Shh,” he says with a cocky laugh, his forehead pressed to yours, two fingers circling your clit in dragging motions. “You’re loud, beautiful. You don’t want us to get caught before I had a chance to fuck you.”

“N-no… ahhh.” Two thick fingers slide into you and your muscles grip down hard at the sudden intrusion.

“Hi,” he grins down at you as if he wasn’t just pounding your g-spot out of nowhere and making you see stars.

You hold on to his face, grappling for purchase and finally wind your fingers into this wild tickling hair and pull.

“Jesus, finally!”

“I— I’m so close.”

“Keep holding on,” he groans and moves down your body, fingers stilling for a moment.

You keep your hands in his hair, pulling in frustration from the ebbing pleasure.

“Of course, you have the prettiest fucking pussy, you—“ he doesn’t finish his thought, diving in with his tongue to lap at your clit like he’d been starving for you his whole life.

You bite the back of your hand to keep from yelling out at the sight alone. His eyes meet yours, of course they do and he sucks one of your lips into his mouth.

“You’re a fucking tease, Eddie… what’s your last name?”

“Munson,” he mumbles against your core and keeps on feasting.

“You’re a fucking tease, Eddie Munson… ahhh don’t stop please.”

And he doesn’t. He gives you his fingers and his mouth, his eyes fixed on you— well, most of the time, he keeps looking to a spot behind you but you have no time to inquire as your legs start to tremble and everything inside you starts to tense and pulse and you’re coming apart under his mouth before you’ve really seen it coming.

Yeah, that guy was something else.

When you’ve come down he gently pulls his fingers from you and litters your thighs and belly with kisses. His fingers are sticky against your skin but a slight roughness remains.

Your head lolls against the floor while you’re still blissed out and Eddie still puts those feathery kisses to your skin.

“You… you’re a musician…” you drawl out.

He looks up. “Yeah! How do you know?”

You take his hand from your chest and lick your wetness from his fingers before you turn his palm to him, sliding a fingertip over the calloused skin.

“You like that?” he grins.

You let go of his hand and nod. “Something with strings?”

“Guitar. And vocals.”

“Fuck you, you’re way too hot as it is…” you squeeze him with your thighs and his eyes go to that spot behind you again before he kisses your chest.

“What do you keep looking at?” you wiggle and crane your neck. It’s that painting. The one that has been haunting you for weeks.

“Sorry,” he scrunches up his nose. “I don’t know, draws me in somehow… it’s… weird… sorry.”

“No, no, don’t be…” you say and pull him up to you, kissing him. “You’re right.”

“Yeah?” he glances over again. “Well, fuck… yeah… m’ not gonna lie to you it’s kinda terrifying.” You both laugh. The warmth in your chest only expands more.

“Want to slather me in paint and fuck me against it?”

Eddie’s eyes widen as he glances between your face and the canvas. “Yes? Fuck yes!”

He pulls you up and into a hungry kiss, his thick cock hard against your belly.

 “Is that stuff safe to use?” he points his chin to some paint tubes on the trolley in the corner.

“No, oh god, no. But…” you leave him to look for a large bottle of black paint letting out a triumphant ha when you find it. You turn around beaming. “This here is… and will wash out of hair with no problem.”

“Come here…” he curls his finger to beckon you to him. “And hand that over.”

“Is that turning you on?” you ask as you join him.

“You have no idea.” Eddie takes the paint from you and wraps an arm around your shoulders, pulling your back to his chest. “You’re so pretty already with all my marks on you.” He walks you over to the canvas that way, his lips pressed close to your ear.

You turn in his arm and reach for his cock, stroking him softly. “How do you want me?”

“Fuck if I know… gimme a second and don’t stop that.” He looks at the canvas, really thinking about this. You suddenly want to pull his hair again. “Hands above your head, babe,” he says, opening the bottle of paint and squirts a generous amount into his hand. “Keep them clean. You have to put me inside you.”

You lean against the canvas; it’s large, so large that your outstretched arms above your head just graze the wooden frame inside.

Eddie’s hands are dripping black paint as he grabs your hips, bends down and sucks your nipple into his mouth before he kisses up to the crook of your shoulder to suck on you once more. “One last one before I make a mess out of you.” The contrast between the warmth of his lips and the cool paint as he slides his hands up your sides to your ribs makes you squirm and whimper. Eddie steps back to look at his work.

“Fuck, I’m an artist.”

He grabs the bottle from the floor and gets more paint, letting it drip right to your tits before smudging with splayed fingers. You watch him, mesmerized. When he is satisfied, he spins you around and pats your thigh as a sign to widen your stance. You feel him shuffle behind you as he presses himself against you and your chest against the canvas.

“Ready?”

You reach down, fumbling in the air for a moment before you find him. “You ready?”

 “Ye—ahhhh, you little minx,” he groans as you line him up and push back on him half the way. He holds you steady and slides in the rest of the way breathing out a long low fuuuuck. Then he stills. “Are you holding your breath? You ok?”

You are more than ok and you let the air out, your forehead dropping against the canvas. “It was that or letting everybody in the building know I’m getting stretched real fucking good right now…”

He angles your hips back and pushes closer. “Yeah, you are… shit, you’re unreal.”

“And you’re big. Gimme a moment.”

“All the time you want, I’m cosy here.”

While you get used to the stretch, Eddie caresses your back, rubbing small circles up the sides of your spine.

“I have a show next Tuesday,” he says kissing your shoulder. “Would love to see you in the first row.”

“Wouldn’t miss it… I assume it’s something hard?” you wiggle your ass, making you both sigh.

“You like it hard?” he laughs. “Music, I mean.”

“I do.”

“’Course you do. Can I fuck you now? Please?”

“Yeah,” you sigh. “Before the paint dries.”

He starts slow, pulling out almost all the way and sliding back in till he bottoms out. Your front slides against the canvas blackening out parts of it in big splotches.

“How’s this?” He’s so careful it makes your throat feel tight.

“You feel in-incredible.” You push back, meeting his thrusts as he picks up the pace.

“You’re incredible, sweetheart.”

Then you’re just getting lost in each other. His movements get rougher, more confident as he thrusts into you. You feel him deep inside you lighting little fires everywhere. A hand presses to the canvas next to your head, an arm loops around your waist and you yelp as he sharply slams into you. You beg him to do it again but he’s already on it, relentlessly fucking you into the canvas. Most of the paint is dry now, it’s prickling on your skin. Eddie moans your name into your ear, squeezing your tits and you squeeze your muscles around his cock.

“Shhh, babe…” you chuckle after he cries out.

“Fuck you,” he laughs hoarsely into your hair.

You’re so close again and you slip your hand between your legs but Eddie stops and pulls your arm to your back. “No nono, shit, not-not like that…”

“Eddie…”

“Stay like that,” he says and pulls out of you, leaving you empty and confused. There is some shuffling and then he is back behind you. “Going to be cold.”

“What— uhn!”

Paint trickles onto your arched back, sliding down your spine and making you shiver. Eddie gives your ass a little smack and turns you around, crowding you against the canvas, and hoists you up by your thighs.

“Oh my god,” you huff, wrapping your arms around his neck while he balances you out.

“Can’t do that all day but you’re close ‘n I wanna see that face when you come.” He leans you back to create some space between you. “Help me out, put me back inside you…”

You do as you’re told and you clench your thighs hard around his hips as he starts up almost at the same pace he stopped. He kisses you, so sloppy so wet you feel a string of spit between your mouths when he pulls back again to hook his arms under your knees and spreads you open so wide that you’re crying out his name.

“I got you,” he assures you, pounding into you at a new angle, so deep it makes you dizzy. “I got you, you can juuust fall apart…”

The noises you two are making where you’re joined are obscene.

“Holy shit,” you moan, “li-listen… those sounds.”

Eddie drops his head to your shoulder, sweat dripping from his forehead onto you. “Like fucking music…”

You laugh. “Fucking music indeed.”

“God, you’re perfect,” he presses out through a laugh and really leans into you. You grab a thick strand of hair and pull as your insides begin to tense.

“Oh… oh shit, don’t stop.”

The world tilts as he leans you back again. “Wouldn’t dare… touch yourself for me, I need to feel you come around me.”

“Come inside me, yeah?” you rasp as you circle your swollen throbbing clit.

His eyes bore into yours, the strain and pleasure all over his face. He’s a mess as much as you are. “Come on, darling… come for me… I want you to run through my fingers.”

And you swear you do: your head thumps against the wood frame as your muscles try to create a black hole or whatever happens under so much pressure, but who cares when this stupidly perfect man fucks you through the hardest orgasm anyone ever had while looking at you like he was fulfilling his fucking destiny. You can’t hear him over the blood rushing through your ears, but he looks so pretty with his nose scrunched up, a streak of black paint running over the bridge and his eyes shut tight. A few more thrusts and he collapses against your chest with stuttering hips, pinning you so hard against the wall that it drives the air out of you.

There is only breathing, hot air from his lungs against your tickling skin. You cup the back of his head and stroke his hair; he nuzzles deeper into your skin and makes a noise that sounds like fucking home.

“I need to put you down now… sorry.”

He puts you down but doesn’t let go. Kisses cover your face until you cup his cheeks and claim his mouth while he’s dripping down the inside of your thighs.

Then you giggle together, Eddie squeezing your ass with both hands, smiling at you so silly and soft. You’re thirsty, you let him have the bottle first and he gulps the water down, spilling down his chest, creating little rivers of paint that let the ink show through. You want to study those lines up close without twenty people around you, without the blinding fire of lust, but calm, taking your time asking questions.

“What’s going on up there?” he asks, tapping a finger against your forehead.

“I wanna study you some more,” you say, taking the bottle and down what’s left.

He doesn’t ask you what you mean, only tilts his head and smiles. Then he sits down in that worn-out armchair your mate had dragged in a few months ago, still naked, it isn’t time to cover up yet and you find a clean enough rag, climb into his lap and clean the paint off his face as gently as you can.

“Stop,” he grabs your hips, “do you have a camera or something?”

You do and the timer takes too long for you two not to start fooling around before the soft click of the shutter sounds. One more and one more and the film has only two more left and he pulls you in to kiss you just before the camera rewinds.

“You want to join me when I make the prints?”

“You, red light and chemicals?” he grins. “It’s a date.”

The painting is dry already; Guache dries rather fast, you explain to him. It’s itchy, he adds and scratches his chest, small flakes of black falling down to the floor. You sit in front of both your work, your head against his shoulder and your fingers fumbling with a strand of his hair that is stiff with paint.

“You know,” he says, “it would have made a damn good record cover before…”

“You can have a picture… I document every night before I go home.”

“Really? I mean, the picture?”

You brush sweaty hair off his forehead, “I’m sure it’s in good hands with you.”

He almost shoves you over when he kisses you, the giddy streak you saw earlier during class showing when he chuckles and licks your cheek like a puppy.

“It looks really good now though, don’t you think?”

“You’re just horny,” you laugh.

“What? You don’t like our work?” he pouts and this shouldn’t pull at your heart that much.

“I do,” you kiss the pout, “I was just teasing.”

“I mean it,” he looks at the canvas, “It’s a bit crooked and dented now, but that just adds to the charm.”

 “It has nothing on you though when it comes to charm.” You lean in with a sultry smile and his palm cups your breast and then—

A knock on the door. “Come on, you still fucking in there? I need to work.”

You look at each other with large eyes and break out laughing, scrambling for your clothes. Eddie hisses sharply when you slap his ass just before he pulls up his jeans and you forgo the bra because one strap did not survive Eddie’s enthusiasm. There is paint sticking out of his collar that you couldn’t clean before your photo shoot and you remember to put the film in your pocket while he kisses your temple because he seems to can’t help himself but stay close to you.

“Ready?” you ask and he grabs your hand and nods, following you out.

“Finally,” your mate says, but smiles when she sees you. “Aren’t you that new model?”

“Muse,” he grins without further explanation.

You hand her the key, mouth a small sorry and admit it when she calls you out on your lie.

His hand is warm in yours, his thumb playing with your knuckles as you walk back through the hallway.

“So,” he says, “we gonna shower at your or my place?”

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give peace a chance

I missed you, you want to say, but you know it’ll do nothing to change this routine. You settle on a question he’ll have a response to, for all it can do to uncover thoughts he’d want to bury deep.

pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x f!Reader rating: explicit (18+ mdni) word count: 3.4k summary: you’re always there, waiting on him warnings: size kink, blowjobs, facefucking, thigh riding, masturbation, squirting, angst, brief mentions of death, canon typical violence, mild mild gore, fluff notes: had 'Yes to Heaven' by lana del rey on loop while writing this one. out of body experience fr. anyway, i finally gave in and wrote for the boogey man. he's been occupying too much headspace for me to not.

You don’t hear him come in. 

Crisp, white sheets gather in a knot at your midsection – previously pristine, wrinkles pull at its surface now. You can’t sleep, but that’s most nights.

Your curtains dance with an incoming drift, lazy gauze, sheer in the cresting moonlight. If you weren’t so absorbed in the white noise of your whirring fan, you could catch the quiet click of your backdoor. You always leave it open, just in case; people know not to dare take advantage of the liberties you exhibit. There’s the invisible threat, protection, of a shadowed mercenary over your toytown home. 

His missions are incalculable. That’s the one thing he cannot promise you. Come back soon, you beg, but he leaves you with a silent kiss and nothing else. 

There were once days where you’d tag along. Your chest twinges at the uncomfortable reminder. Cracked bone, spilt ichor; the bullet had barely missed your heart, lodged between the throbbing organ and a major vessel. He’d raged to get you decommissioned, incensed demands – they’d never seen him as angry. 

Carpet flattens under your bare feet as you crawl out of bed, soft, like all things here. You hadn’t the luxury of comfort before, when Simon was Ghost and you were a rookie under him, but he’d granted you a life you sought only in your dreams. The first few days in paradise, you were torn over appreciation and resentment at the act, bandages wrapped around your chest – but you’d healed and found the irreversible damage etched into the hard plate of your clavicle – a rounded, discoloured scar. 

You’re glad you’d left that life behind. 

Padding out to the kitchen, you pour yourself a drink. The cupboard underneath your sink contains only bourbon – blended, straight, kentucky – so you fish out juice from your fridge. It’s sickly sweet, all natural sugars, your ass. 

“Shouldn’t drink that stuff.” A voice cuts the tranquillity, rugged and choppy on harsh consonants – a cockney accent. You soothe the alarmed surprise racing in your gut, a gentle smile turning your cheeks. 

His eyes pierce back at you, a smudge of white against an otherwise charcoal canvas. He’s sitting at the dining table, just across your kitchen island, his massive form illuminated by the warm light you’d turned on. You don’t know how you missed him, but then again, the man lives up to his name. Ghost; creeping up like the dead. 

“We’re all out of milk.” You respond, your tease lilting to an affectionate whisper when it hits your tongue. Simon scoffs. “Not like whiskey’s any better.” 

You pour him a glass regardless. 

He’s still equipped in his tactical gear, his gun set on the chair next to him. It adds unnecessary bulk, layers on layers of insulation, conservation – impossibly, he looks bigger like this. Larger than life. Your hands run along the coarse material of his bullet proof vest; you think you can feel his muscles tense, despite the surfaces separating you. But he takes the bourbon with little fuss, wrapping a strong arm around your legs so your knees knock the side of his thigh. 

“Hi,” You giggle, beaming down at him. 

“Hey.” He mocks, setting the drink down. 

His hard-shell mask conceals any tells you may glean. In just the balaclava, you can catch the shape of his lips, the curve of his nose, when he smiles – the painted fabric pulls taut over his features. But a skull stares back at you, and all you have are his eyes, framed with ashen lashes. They’re only enough to tell you one thing; he’s happy to be home. 

You love the way they catch the light, a subtle glimmer in them. 

For a while, the two of you just stand there, revelling in the weighted company of one another. His gloved hand presses circles into your flesh, just under the hem of your sleeping shorts, while yours find every bit of exposed skin you can. There’s not much – just the small stretch of neck you can reach, tucked behind his collar before the rest of him disappears. But you find it with reverence, smoothing over it, his heated body slowly easing by the minute under your ministrations. Some part of you realises the desperation you observe him with, the hurried glances at his back, his stomach, his legs. You look for darkened, sticky fabric. You look for blood. 

You don’t have the courage to speak your fears into fruition. 

Simon slowly begins to pull the heavier parts of his armour off. The night vision goggles on his head, the packets of ammo stuffed into available pockets. You move to help him, humming, shifting as you unbuckle the back of his plate carrier. His groans are wicked, deep waves of relief stemming from somewhere in his chest, and you hide the blush that arises at the sound, throwing the layer into an unknown corner. You remember the soreness, the knotted shoulders from days in the same kit, your spine in aching need of a good long stretch. You make a mental note to rub his back later.

You take off his gloves. There’s little give – they’re crusted in dried gore and gunpowder, the bones on their front almost entirely camouflaged. A sharp tug is what it takes to peel them off his hands. But then his skin is bared to you. You survey the grit that dusts the contours of his veins. Dirt has sunk through the fibres. 

When he’s left in just his mask and underclothes, he finally slumps, posture altering from that of a soldier’s to one of a tired man. His legs spread, thick thighs filling his pants, and he reaches for his drink again, lifting the bottom of his mask and balaclava to take a large gulp. His newly revealed Adam's apple bobs with the motion.

I missed you, you want to say, but you know it’ll do nothing to change this routine. You settle on a question he’ll have a response to, for all it can do to uncover thoughts he’d want to bury deep. 

“How many men?” You speak into the space. He pauses, his pink lips pursing at the brim of his glass. You have half a mind to regret asking, but you do this for your own solace. 

“Jus’ three.” Just. To anyone else, he may sound indifferent, his tone etched in that low timbre, unwavering with the grief over lost comrades. To you, you know that his pain is cavernous, a bottomless chasm he’ll undoubtedly return to. Indicatively, he pulls his mask back down over his face. It isn’t just three men. It’s three too many – but it’s on the lower end of the casualties the 141 usually faces. 

You wait for him to say the words you’re looking for. 

“They’re alright.” 

You nod. Al Bravo team was not amongst the fatalities. Gaz. Price. Soap. You cling onto the reassurance of your friends’ continued survival, a buoy until the next raging storm. 

Simon’s hand returns to its place on your leg, tracing long lines along the back of it. You shiver, suppressing the heat that spreads up your tummy like wildfire. His steel gaze is indecipherable as he looks up at you; your emotions flit across your face erratically. You wish he’d take the mask off, get on even footing with you, but it takes a while for him to come down from his missions. For as long as he’s racked with enduring adrenaline, he’ll keep his guard up. 

He’s surrounded by the safe walls of your – his – home, but he’s in over his head. 

You bow down, placing a gentle kiss on the curve of his jaw. The arm wrapped around you draws you closer. 

He smells like saltpetre, guncotton, hints of kerosene floating in the air between you. You push your face nearer to his, and you’re able to catch a faint whiff of his aftershave, traces of the cleanliness and cologne he leaves behind here, with you. You open your mouth to comment on it; he beats you to your cause: 

“Lovely girl.” He squeezes the flesh on your upper thigh – not quite your ass, but almost. 

“Mmm, Simon.” You start, capturing his eyes. They bear down on you with an intensity that makes your core ache. “Y’Can’t keep doing this to me.”

You imagine he’s smirking when he retaliates. “Can say the same for you, expectin’ me to focus out there when you look this good.” Like a giddy schoolgirl, you bite your lip at his compliment. 

Stirring to kiss his jaw again, you slowly start to unzip his windbreaker. Your fingers span the front of the black hoodie underneath, tracing the hard plane of his chest, feeling it rumble with a noiseless groan. His legs spread wider. You catch a telling bulge in your peripheral. 

“Need help?” You murmur, purring when he slips underneath your shorts to give your rear a feel. His callouses dig into you.

“Need you.” He says. 

The hand that was on his chest inches downward now, your nails raking along. You give a half-suppressed laugh as his abdomen tightens, bracing against your ticklish assault. You want to feel it bare – to extricate the exhaustion from an uncovered torso and watch as his muscles roll, solid brawn unravelling with the slightest touch. But you’ll settle on this, you know he needs it. His mask does unspeakable things to you, anyway. 

“Relax.” You encourage with a breath. Simon doesn’t listen; he still kneads your flesh with an unforgiving grip. His thumb brushes close to the soaked patch on your panties – with the appreciative grunt he gives, you know he senses the arousal emanating from you. 

His cock strains his pants, taking up all the space it can. You coo, poor thing, as you cup the underside of it. He gives you a reproaching spank, and your hips buck in tandem to his. As you do, you realise now how uncomfortable of a position you’re in – your neck cramps in this angle. Really, it’s a silly thing to be hung up about, but Simon must read the subtle cringe you give, for he urges you to kneel, guiding you by your head to crawl in between his open legs. 

You’re halfway under the table when you look up at him again, cheek pressed adoringly against his knee. He’s seemingly content like this, petting round your forehead to the ridge of your chin. His palm is large, dry, warm. You quickly lose trajectory as he caresses you, all droopy eyes and small smiles. 

He catches when you rub your legs together, chasing a friction that will never amount to him. You can never escape his scrutiny; Simon captures everything. 

He pats your cheek and pinches it before his touch leaves you. Newly awake, you perk up, perching on your haunches to lean further into him. You’re always eager, but his chuckle at your barely concealed anticipation beckons a stone to lodge itself in your throat. It’s a ball of desire, denser than most things, snowballing with every passing moment in his presence. You’re tuned in on him, rapt to every subtle thing – the deep exhales, the anchoring of his boots to hardwood floors. It’s take, take, take, an absorption of anything he’s willing to give. It tends to be like this after he comes back –  was like this back on the base, when you’d known nothing but his moniker and callsign. 

You recall rubbing one out to the staticky crackle of his voice over the channel, your headset pressed tight to your ears. You’d never told him that; you figure now’s a good time as any. 

“Used to fantasise about you, y’know.” You sigh, ironing over his calves. You move your brushes to his hulking thighs when he begins to undo his pants, wetting your lips. 

His next exhale is torn, steadiness ripped to shreds by your less-than seductive words. “Oh yeah?” He remarks, scooping into his boxers to pull his heavy cock out. “What about?” 

It springs free just then, angry head flushed a deep red, blood supplied by pulsing veins that branch to the top. You keen at the precum that beads at the top, rushing to catch it with your index to slip it onto your tongue. He says nothing, merely contemplating as you wriggle with the heady taste of him. 

“This,” You add after a long moment, before licking a long, wet stripe up the base of his dick. His whole body jerks unexpectedly, and he grabs onto your head to steady your impatient efforts. 

“Fuckin’ hell.” 

“Gone soft on me? I see.” Chortling, you play with his tip, batting it back and forth to tap your lips. He is anything but soft – regrettably, though, the rise you get from teasing him is too great to pass up. 

“Shut it, pet, before I turn your insides over.” He urges you forward once he’s settled. You don’t tell him how much you’d really like him to. In due time. 

Your lips wrap around the bulbous head, sides stretching to accommodate his girth. You’re familiar with the drill by now; hollow your cheeks, keep your jaw nice and loose. Use some teeth, he chokes at the pain. 

His skin moves with you as you sink down , rolling your tongue over the ridges that cross your path. Your breath is hot, your mouth even hotter – sweltering, you suck him in and coat his rock-hard with a film of saliva, which aids you when you bob back up. You can’t reach the root of him, not yet – he’s way too big – so your hand wraps around the length not in your mouth. 

“That’s it.” Simon rasps, now pushing you down in support. Your hum is lost in the lewd slurps, but he twitches with the vibrations it produces. A glob of drool leaks from you, seeping down to gather in his scruffy curls – you use it as slick to twist your wrist around his base. 

He’s ripe with the salty taste of sweat and precum, a dizzying combination – you hope you’re subtle as you slip your free hand down your pants, pressing up into the plush of your cunt. You find where you’re most sensitive, a tight bundle of nerves, and touch yourself, all the while savouring the masculinity that engulfs you – his muscled thighs by your ears, his giant hands pressing down on your head. 

A particularly loud groan sounds from above. You triple your efforts, delighted at your part in helping him unwind. At one point, his added pressure pushes you down all the way. You gag, blubbering with choked gasps, but your lips stay sealed around him, an unforgiving vacuum. His happy trail scratches your nose,

“Gonna cum, you lovely thing. Righ’ down your throat. Take it all, understand?” He asks. You’re able to discern the wobble in his abrasive voice – his balls spasm at your lips, ready to erupt at any moment. You nod, gaping at him earnestly, with wide, watery eyes. His own soften, downturning at the corners. “‘Atta girl.”

With the hazy memory of his face before he’d left, you can draw an abstraction of what he might look like right now. You trick yourself into thinking he’s smiling down at you. Gentle, caring. 

You don’t have to try as hard to believe it. 

Your fingers work fervently over your sopping cunt, slipping between velvet folds. Your exertion, combined with his pure fucking magnetism, is almost enough to tip you over the edge. A cluster in your gut stiffens, grows, upends. You stroke yourself impossibly faster. 

Simon curls inward, his mask now directly above you. A bit of his cock drags from your mouth – your bottom teeth scrape a vein in consequence. He jolts. Then, rich, long ropes of cum shoot into your awaiting mouth, painting you with musky white. You keep jerking him as he does, urging more, more, more, milking him to spill his all into you. 

A tap of your shoulder is all the evidence you need to pull off him with a pop. You didn’t cum, it doesn’t matter, you hardly feel the mounting desperation amidst the grand scheme of things. Simon’s back hits the chair, his head tilting as he takes you in. 

“C’mere,” He grunts, pushing backwards to allow you space to stand. You oblige, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand – it only serves to smear the mess across your cheek. Your back brushes the table – he beckons you closer – until your bruised knees hit the edge of the chair. 

When he’s satisfied, his hands run up your sides, starting at your arms, then downward, so they can hook into the waistband of your shorts. You lock onto his all-consuming stare, dark with an unspoken question, his pupils blown wide with lingering lust. 

“Go ahead.” You coax. 

He nods and pulls your shorts off with one, swift movement. 

Cold air meets soaked cotton – you tremble, whether with goosebumps or the weight of his study, you don’t know. You’re the farthest thing from a blushing virgin, but Simon manages to propel you back into that bashful headspace. Every time with him is ruthless – stifling broken sobs while adjusting to his width, utter pleasure and the smallest bit of pain. 

Perhaps you’ll forgo that this time around. He’s quickly softening against his pelvis. You understand – stamina tends to dissipate after holding out for so long. Though he’s anything but a selfish lover.

He guides you to straddle his thigh. 

You squirm, hip flexors burning with the strain of splitting over the breadth of him. He keeps you steady with his hands on your waist – you clutch onto his wrists. His sleeves have rucked up to reveal his tattooed forearm. You trace the ink, reverent, requiring as much skin-to-skin as possible. It flees the fastest, that sensation, running up behind him when he exits the door. The bruises, the bites, the cramp from hitting your cervix one too many times, on the other hand – they all endure, keeping you sated long enough so that you aren’t compelled to rejoin him. He might do that on purpose, in fact. 

Your clit folds as it meets his leg – a new surge of slick spills from you. 

“A-Ah! Simon, y–” 

“I know, pet. Jus’ ride me, yeah, like that.” 

Your bottom half ruts into him, finding purchase on the solid surface of his thigh. Your panties slide, preventing the potential for divine friction, so you push them to the side, wedging it in the crevice of a lip and your pubic bone. You stutter apologies to Simon for the mess – your natural lubricant smears onto his cargo pants, sullying the fabric. He assures that he’ll wear it proudly. You’re a prouder medal than blood. 

You’re whimpering now, wailing about everything and nothing all at once with your face tucked into his neck. He embraces you – sturdiness forcing you to stunt your movements to short, hurried grinds – and says nothing. 

Something terrifying begins to burn in you; promising a cataclysm. It’s him. His scent, his strength, his size, his presence. I missed you. I missed you. Your impending orgasm crawls up the tendons in your pelvis, seeping into bone and flooding like a high tide. Your pants grow shallower. Your lungs feel cramped. Something about this, here, with him, lights every synapse in you, flashing bright with colours and promises and safety. I miss you. 

“I miss you,” You finally gasp, broken as you peer up at him. He stills – you keep your pace. Sweat beads at your temple. 

He slowly removes the mask. 

The balaclava follows soon after. 

Simon then bows down, pressing his lips to your furrowed brow. 

And then, everything in you compresses, fierce and tight. You wind your fingers into his hair, pulling his head back to bite the column of his neck. You do it to muffle the sob that bubbles when you erupt in searing agony atop him, back arching, toes curling. Your body goes completely rigid. 

He groans with the cut of your teeth, and your cunt pulsates again, spilling down on him, your fluids draining to double your mark on the man. 

“Missed you too.” Simon rustles in response. You seize his mouth with yours, uncaring for how messy it is. It’s what you need; to feel your teeth knock, to bind yourself to him. 

You kiss in him the intent to never let you go. You know it won’t last, but for now, it’s enough.

permanent taglist: @saintbedelia @tusk89 @cactuswaterscactusfields @lexloon

since i've only written for star wars previously, if you're on this list and want to be moved to a character specific one instead, i've added the option on my form!

join my taglist!

Light On

Simon Riley masterlist

Simon has a new neighbor. His new neighbor has a baby.

Simon Riley/female reader Single mom, neighbors fic. Fics are listed in chronological order

Simon discovers something unexpected Simon realizes where you live Simon gives you a hand Simon comes over for dinner Simon eavesdrops Simon spends time in the garden Johnny learns his LT's secret Simon helps you out last minute Simon gets a phone call Simon accompanies you to the park Simon steps in Simon answers the phone in the middle of the night Simon learns something about you You miss your neighbor Simon's choice has consequences

I lost every friendship I ever had and it still hurts.

1. Finneas O’Connell / 2. Ocean Vuong / 3. adampvrrish / 4. Otessa Moshfegh / 5. Fairycosmos / 6. Richard Siken / 7. frenchtoastlesbian

Call Of Duty Audio Smut!

I realised I have not kept up with G W A reddit for a while and what has been going on? More Ghost, some König and Soap too! So here’s for your enjoyment :3 I have included both link to the post on G W A and straight to audio, since not everyone has Reddit, but please go give the artists some praise and comments if you like the audio! All audios are M4F, so male voices for female listeners. Have fun (as long as you’re an adult, MDNI!)

Simon “Ghost” Riley

Caught by Ghost by Badjhur (audio) (Mdom, dubcon)

Zero Hour by Badjhur (audio) (Mdom, squadmates to lovers)

Ghosting the Party by Badjhur (audio) (Mdom, interrogation)

Testing the Perimeter by Badjhur (audio) (Mdom, squadmates to lovers)

Only a Specialist’s Touch by Badjhur (audio) (Mdom, keep quiet, squadmates to lovers)

Training a Military Brat by Badjhur (audio) (Mdom, brat taming duh)

Clouded Conscience by Badjhur (audio) (Mdom, friends to lovers)

Lesson in Biochemistry by Badjhur (audio) (Mdom, sex pollen, dubcon)

Ghostly Comfort by  AmbroseKincaidVA (audio) (Mdom, comfort sex)

König

Doktor’s Orders by Badjhur (audio) (Msub König, established relationship)

Trapped in a cave? How about I touch you down there? by gehwild (audio) (Msub, size kink)

Taking Care of König by gehwild (audio) (Msub)

John “Soap” MacTavish

Coming Clean by touchshriek (audio) (Mdom, enemies to lovers, manhandling outdoor sex)

Late Hours by ScotsLibrarian (audio) (Mdom, interrogation)

and wouldn't you love to love her?

Warren Rojas x Fem!Reader

djats masterlist

Word Count : 2.1k

Summary : basically my fic they long to be (close to you) with a warren!ending. OR the one where Warren reveals he can't sleep without you anymore.

Warning!! I have not read the book or the show!!! All info I have gathered has been from other x readers I have read. sorry in advance if I have butchered your fav show/book because I have plainly made shit up in favour of satiating my own need for more warren fics xoxo

Moving to LA had been much more isolating then you'd ever thought it'd be. Sure, you'd moved with there with some of your closest friends, but it still felt harrowingly lonely compared to what you were used to in Pittsburgh. In your small hometown, everyone knew everyone, so wherever you went, you saw someone you knew - here, in LA, you felt lucky to accidentally make eye contact with a stranger on the street.

Warren was the number one person happy to fill the needed affection you often sought out since moving to LA. He, himself, was quite the lover - always one to take a cuddle and hold onto a hug for way longer then most would deem appropriate - which was exactly what you needed. The two of you had spent many nights in bed together in LA just for the company of it, and not that you didn't like it, you just wished it was with someone else, instead.

"You coming to bed, sweet girl?" Warren asked with a tired drawl to his words, extending a hand out to you while the other held the remainder of his joint to his lips.

"In a little." You hummed back, taking a hit out the joint he offered out to you, the joint being held to your lips by Warren instead of taking it into your own hands. "I'm not tired enough to sleep."

Warren pulled the joint back to his lips, his other hand coming to brush your hair out of your eyes and behind your ear, his hand resting against your hair and keeping you tucked in the crook of his neck. "You want me to wait up with you? Or you can come keep my company? I'll put on some Fleetwood Mac, it'll help you sleep, baby girl."

That was another thing that you missed about Pittsburgh; the constant nicknames you let the others call you. Back in Pittsburgh, everyone had some kind of name to call you except the one you were born with. Now? Karen called you sweet-pea, Eddie called you birdie, Camilla called you sunshine as did Graham and even Billy, but Warren? Warren called you whatever he liked; sweet girl, baby girl, baby, doll, his.

"No, it's okay Warren, you go to bed." Warren scooped you up in his arms, placing you down in the spot next to Graham who had already opened up his blanket for you, then pressed a kiss to your cheek. "I'll leave the door open for you."

You let your head fall to Graham's shoulder, who pulled his arm out from between the two of you and wrapped it over the back of the sofa. He allowed you to tangle your legs up in his pyjama covered ones, making sure you were comfortable before he turned his attention back to the tv screen.

"You and Warren are sleeping together?" Karen had been the one brave enough to ask, the conversation between the two of you not unnoticed by the rest of the group - it being the only thing to break the silence in the past 40 minutes. 

All heads turned to you, attention suddenly on something that had the potential to be more interesting then the rerun of Scooby-doo that had just started. "Not like that." You answered softly, eyes still focused on the cartoon dog and his gang on friends, not noticing how everyone else was now looking at you. "We both just like the company of it. I don't think either of us realised how lonely it would be coming out to LA."

"Cute." Camilla mused, a warm smile curling on her lips as she took in that even in your sleep you were reaching out for the touch and warmth of someone else.

"You're always welcome in my bed, sweet-pea." Karen added, a smile curling on her own lips as she managed to take your attention away from the tv. "I swear you run cold. Would be nice in the LA heat."

"You can't steal my blanket buddy." Graham gasped, pulling you tighter against him and furiously tucking the blanket around the two of you. "She's the perfect amount of cold. The windows open, with the blanket, with y/n is the perfect temperature for me."

"I'm going to have to pass on that one Karen, unless you want to come down to my room." You countered her offer with a soft smile, attention moving back to the tv once more. "Warren says your room is haunted."

Laughter spread through out the room as you sided with Warren even in his absence; he was so sweet to you, and that's what friends do, so how could you not?

"What?" You asked, laughing yourself. "We left it empty until your arrival for a reason." That caused another round of laughter to break out in the room, everyone enjoying the way the two of you were slowly but surely morphing into one person with the more time you spent confined in the LA rental.

A particularly loud shout of "scoob!" from the TV had everyone's attention turned back to the cartoon, letting the nature of your relationship with Warren lie for at least the time being.

By the end of the third episode, only you, Graham and Eddie remained in the room. Graham was fast asleep, his head leaning against yours making you trapped in his hold, and Eddie was sat in the armchair against the wall, legs curled into the seat and a bottle of warm beer in his hands that he'd been nursing for the last half an hour.

As the intro to the next rerun of Scooby-doo blasted from the TV, Graham startled awake, literally jumping out of his seat and pulling the blanket with him. He grumbled some attempt at what you thought was a goodnight, and stumbled sleepily out of the room, the warmth of him and the blanket leaving you alone on the couch.

Eddie got up from his seat without a word, joining you on the couch with his arm stretched over your shoulders and across the back of the couch cushions.

"I know you like him." Eddie teased, letting his arm fall around you and pull you into his side. He pulled the blanket off the back of the couch and placed it over the two of you, trying to keep you warm now that Graham had stolen your provisos blanket. "I can tell, I think we all can."

"Everyone except Warren, I guess." You complained, letting your head fall back against his shoulder, taking the warm beer he held in his hands and having a sip of it.

"He likes you too you know." Eddie laughed at the face of disbelief you pulled, taking the beer back from you to have another sip for himself. "All I'm saying is, you don't see me in his bed every night, and he likes me just fine."

You hummed into him, tucking your head away from the light of the tv screen, thinking about what Eddie was suggesting. His fingers moved to run through your hair, soothing you to sleep even if he hadn't meant to.

It wouldn't be the first time you had ended up in this predicament, you and Eddie cuddled up together on a couch in someone's living room, the night having gotten away from you. But it was the first time since coming to LA, the first time since you'd basically moved into Warren's bed, and if it weren't for the fact you were already half asleep, you would've felt sick about it.

Eddie wasn't far behind you when it came to falling asleep, his fingers shortly stilling and beer left half drank and held loosely between his fingers.

As people slowly began to filter into the living room the following morning, you made yourself plenty comfortable in Eddie's lap - instead of taking up the whole couch - allowing him to wrap an arm around your waist and hold you up and against him by your thighs. You lazily tuned into the conversation everyone else seemed to be having, mainly focused on eating the bowl of cereal Camilla had given you and the feeling of Eddie's fingers toying with the hem of your shorts. Picking up another spoonful of food, you offered him a mouthful, him taking it with a grateful smile.

"I thought you and Warren were sleeping together?" Billy asked, gesturing at you and Eddie with the tip of his spoon accusingly.

"And I thought we discussed this last night." You deflected with a shrug. Everyone apparently knew of your feelings for the curly haired brunette according to Eddie, but that didn't mean you had to admit them to them. It would only give them more ammunition to tease you with anyways. "Me and Ed's stayed out here last night, tried to stay up watching scooby-doo but failed, that's all."

"You and Ed's, huh." Graham asked, his eyebrow raised in suspicion.

"You're just jealous that she doesn't have a cute nickname for you." Eddie spat back, quickly coming to your defence as you offered him another bite of your cereal.

Scanning your eyes around the room, you took notice of the lack of a certain member of the sixes presence. "Where is Warren, actually?"

"Wouldn't you like to know?" Graham teased, earning a smack on the chest from Eddie who came to your defence as you left the room, leaving him with your cereal and an unusually rowdy Graham.

You crept into Warren's room, quiet as a mouse, hoping not to wake him up as you made your own way to bed. Despite your claim last night, you headed over first to the record player in the corner, pulling out your Fleetwood Mac vinyl and skipping to where Rhiannon should start. Turing the volume down enough that it wouldn't go outside the room but would reach you from Warren's bed. Cracking open the window just enough to let in a cool breeze, you finally got into what had become your side of Warren's bed.

No sooner then you'd lied down and turned on your side to slowly wake him, Warren was cosying himself into your side, nuzzling into your shoulder and wrapping his arm around you, intertwining your fingers.

"I didn't mean to wake you, m'sorry." You murmured, wiggling your arm out of his hold to wrap it over him, tangling your fingers in his mess of curls. You scratched gently at his scalp, Warren preening into your touch, yearning for it. "Well I did actually, but not like this, it's nearly 9."

"You didn't wake me, sweet girl." He purred, pressing a kiss, then another, then another to your shoulder. "Can't sleep without you, just been sat here all night trying to."

"Warren." You whined, shuffling to face him better at his confession. "You should've said so. I would've come with you when you first asked. You could've come to get me."

"I didn't want you to think I was needy." He whispered, avoiding your eyes as he busied himself in trying to get comfy now that you were in his arms again. "Plus, when I did come out to get you, you seemed pretty cosy with Eddie."

"We just fell asleep watching tv, that's all." You promised, feeling as a smile creeped onto Warren's face at your admission. "Nothing else. If I didn't have the blanket I would've come here, to you. I promise."

"You're here now, baby girl. That's all that matters to me." Warren was already dropping asleep, his need for it catching up quickly now that your presence was beside him, now that he was safe in your arms. "All that matters."

At your lack of response, Warren began to move, exhibiting the most life you'd seen in him since you'd walked into the room minutes ago. "C'mere hot stuff." Warren opened his arms to you, letting you shuffle down until your head rested against his chest and your arms were wrapped under his, going up his back and holding onto his shoulders from behind.

You gently scratched your fingers up and down his back, lulling him to sleep just as he was lulling you sleep with the soothing circles he was rubbing into your hip. You were quick to fall asleep again in his hold, as you did every night in Warren's bed, as did Warren, who, like he'd just admitted, couldn't sleep without you in his arms.