"If Tampons Should Be Free, Then So Should My Diabetes Meds."

Y/n, bursting in: my day was just made!

Ghost, not looking up from his report: What kind of cat was it?

Y/n: ORANGE!!

I have a nuvaring in rn. I swear this bitch better work or Imma rip out my uterus then Im mailing it to my doctor.

I, also, can kinda feel it in there. It’s an odd ass feeling.

I don’t know what’s going on.🫨🫨🫨

There is someone on twitter that thinks it’s okay to start a relationship with me calling him daddy. 😂😂

ⓘ You can Bite your Friends.

Help me! Smells are triggering me to wretch like a cat, noise and all. I wanna gag every time I smell meat. (This is just me being weird, not pregnant. lol)

I’m absolutely feral at the thought of being filled by John Price. Just imagine him plowing into you whispering about how he is going to fill you and getting you pregnant so you’re a mama and he’s a daddy. He holds you in a press and angles you up further so his cum won’t leak out of you.

He’d call you a good girl as you cum around his cock. You will be called such a good mama/mommy. He thinks about you getting round and your tits getting heavy with milk for your little ones. 💖🥺

(Slightly inspired by @chamomiletealeaf I absolutely adore you.🥺🥺💖💖

gonna get you kneeling

Pairing; sub!Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x dom!Fem Reader

Summary; People don’t understand this dynamic between you and Ghost. They make jokes, but they truly have no idea what you get up to behind closed doors…

Warnings; 18+ minors dni!!! age in your bio or BLOCKED! anywayyy sub!simon, dom!reader, collar and leash play, breast worship, kinda oral fixation, scent kink (he just likes how u smell okay), premature cumming, mention of breastfeeding/nursing, uhhh can’t think of anything else-

(a/n); uh. right. title is from High by Stephen Sanchez. uhm. i hope u guys like this. if u do pleaaaase let me know I’m nervous about it lmao. suddenly had a feverish burst of writing motivation and whacked out the last 1k so if it’s shit or doesn’t make sense or seems rushed then uhhhhh I apologise whoops-

Word Count; 5.8k

People don’t get it, this thing between you two. They really really don’t. They talk about it on base, they make jokes and look at you in that way Simon hates so much. 

He hardly even remembers how it started, a comment you said once he thinks. Someone made a joke about it, it was just something an officer said about his girlfriend, Simon wasn’t there he just knows it was something about BDSM or some such thing. And all you did was say ‘the lined collars are apparently much more comfortable’ with a smirk, as a joke, apparently confirming to everyone on base that he likes to collar you at home. 

It’s become a running sort of joke. Sometimes you hand him paperwork and apologise for it being late and the soldiers around him share a look. A quiet ‘she gonna get punished for that LT?’ came from one of them once but he never caught which one it was.

Simon mulls this all over as he watches you talk through a file with Price, lounging back in a chair and trailing his eyes over your form, slightly bent over the desk. As if on cue, you lean further over to reach something, trousers tightening around your ass for a moment. Simon drops his eyes to it immediately, before swallowing and looking back up to see you shooting a glance over your shoulder at him with a little smile. Tease. 

He thinks about fucking you over the desk for the rest of your informal meeting with the captain. 

He can’t help it, it’s just so easy to imagine. He thinks about the way his cock always rubs up and down your slit just before the head notches in your entrance, lubricating him with your wetness and stimulating your clit for a few seconds. Simon likes doing that, he likes the noises it elicits from you, but he loves being inside you more. He’s always ready to push straight into you, curl his body over yours as he gasps through your tight, wet, heat swallowing him up. But no, he wouldn’t do that he wouldn’t push straight in, he’d wait a little bit, see what you do. 

By the time he’s imagining your walls clenching around his shaft as you milk him for all he’s worth, you’re straightening up and turning back his way. A small smile plays on your face as you wander over, his body going taut and alert at your presence. His eyes stay trained on yours as you lean over him, still sitting down, but when you get to eye level he can’t quite help it. Your blouse just dangles so alluringly below, revealing the cups of your bra concealing where he really wants to see, and his eyes drop. 

Simon only means to glance for a split second, he just means to indulge himself quickly before paying proper attention to you again, but of course his eyes get stuck there. He gazes longingly at the skin peeking out from your bra cups, the way it’s pushed slightly over the top as you lean forward. Behind the balaclava his tongue flicks out over his lips and he thinks of later, later tonight when he’ll be able to-

A small giggle cuts him off and his eyes dart back up, where you’re watching him with amusement painted all over your face. He grins guiltily, knowing you can see by the way his eyes crinkle, and waits for you to say whatever you came over to say. 

With a glance around to check no one is looking too intently, you press a chaste kiss to his forehead and whisper that I’ll text you later, ‘kay? and I’ll see you at home?

His heart speeds up at that, just thinking about what will come later. All alone, in your shared flat, just the two of you and no intrusive soldiers on base watching you both. None of the prying eyes that are so certain they know exactly what you both get up to in your private time. 

Simon practically counts down the minutes until he’s home and waiting for your text. He knows you have more work to do, and that you’ll be another couple of hours yet, but he can’t stop imagining, fantasising. He’s not often home before you are, most of the time you leave together, but his lower belly warms at what this means for the rest of your evening. Simon wanders into the bedroom and opens the wardrobe, retrieving the box at the bottom. You haven’t texted him yet but he thinks he knows which way tonight will go. There’s a few options of course, it varies as to your moods usually, but he’s hoping for one in particular. 

His phone buzzes on the bed behind him, and he drops the lid of the box back down to reach over and check it. 

💬 Knees. 

-

With his hands trembling and his heart racing, Simon waits in position. 

He’s done this a number of times, it’s become one of his favourite ways to spend the evening, but it still excites him anyway. 

There’s a couple of footsteps close to the front door and he can hear your keys jingle on the other side just before you put them in the lock. Simon clenches his hands where they rest on his thighs and loosens them slowly, trying to calm himself for what’s to come. He wants to be here, be present and relaxed. 

The door opens and his head jerks up. 

A light in the hall shines behind you, and from his position it looks like a halo around your head. It makes your body look shadowed, but his eyes accustom to the light as he gazes up at you. The look on your face is satisfied, pleased, as your eyes trail over him and he hardens a little, your silent praise always enough to excite him. 

Simon curls and uncurls his toes, trying to prevent cramp from kneeling for so long. It’s worth it though, if you’re pleased. He kept his briefs on, the tight grey ones you prefer, and the collar he took from the box. Otherwise, the leash is the only other item, clutched tightly in his hands as they rest on his thighs. He twists it gently in his hands, wondering if he made the right move by not attaching it. 

Of course, you notice the movement. 

Nervous, Si?

He smiles, tension releasing from him in a small chuckle as he drops his eyes. Simon shakes his head, swallowing as he looks back up to your grinning face. You raise your eyebrows at him, clearly wanting a verbal answer-he wouldn’t want to disappoint you of course, so you receive a quiet no-no just-jus’ wanted y’to do it-

His head dips down again, cheeks beginning to flush as he speaks to you, but then your fingers lift his chin delicately, and his eyes go wide as he stares up into yours. 

He never thought his body, his strength, his voice, would lend themselves to being submissive in any way, shape or form. But you’d promptly changed his mind about that, after the first few times you’d been together you’d asked to try something. He’d been curious, said you could pretty much do what you wanted-he hadn’t expected the next two hours to be him gripping your shirt tightly and tearing up as you tugged on his balls lightly to stave off his orgasm for the fourth time. He’d begged and pleaded with you, tried to fuck up into your hand and tried to pleasure you in the hope that he might be rewarded, he’d promised he’d be good and that he’d do whatever you wanted, and eventually he’d been allowed to cum as you cooed in his ear how much of a good boy he was for you. Simon had blacked out after that for a few minutes, having orgasmed harder than he can remember ever doing, and come back to himself to you gently wiping him down and linking your fingers with his. 

He’d worried afterward, apologised haltingly to you for begging so much and chuckling self deprecatingly about his voice and the hole he ripped in your shirt. You’d kissed him then, in the doorway to the bathroom, hands clutching his face to yours intensely, and breathlessly reassured him that having a man his size reduced to a whimpering mess and his gruff voice begging and breaking as he looked up at you was truly heavenly. Simon had gotten hard just from the way you said it all to him, and a repeat of the event had shortly followed. 

A few months later you’d presented a little box to him. You’d squeezed his hand and kissed him softly, opened the box and presented him with a navy blue, fur lined collar. 

He’d almost stopped breathing at the sight, fingers tracing over the fluff inside and heart rate picking up as you quietly explained he didn’t have to, not at all, you just thought maybe it might be a nice sign of, well, something more. Something concrete, a symbol for you both. 

You’d tried it out that night, let him fuck you as you tugged on it where it was fastened tightly around his neck. He’d cum embarrassingly quickly, whimpering and drooling slightly into your neck as his mind went fuzzy. 

And now, your thumb brushes over his bottom lip as you murmur your question, as you tell him to use your words, si, what do you want me to do? If you don’t tell me what you want you won’t get it will you?

Simon stares up at you as your words wash over him, leaning slightly into you and subconsciously pushing the tip of your thumb into his mouth. He knows there’s an order in there somewhere, something he needs to do or reply to, but the idea of having you occupy his mouth somehow has been on his mind for the past few hours and he can’t resist the temptation.

He whines when you pull your hand back, chasing it a little before you tut at him and he recedes. 

Tsk, I asked you a question, si, didn’t I? Or have you forgotten every thought in that pretty little head already? I’ve barely done anything-

He flushes again at your words. Twisting his hands around the leash again, he tentatively holds it up to you. 

I jus’-uh, jus’ wanted you to-to put it on-

Simon presses his lips together, dropping his gaze and wondering if this was the right move after all. Maybe he should have just done it, maybe you’d have preferred it if he already had it attached, maybe you think he’s being lazy or disobedient or-

You pluck the leash neatly out of his hands, pulling it through your grip and trailing your eyes over it. It’s simple black leather, good quality and with lining around the loop for your hand. Simon clenches his jaw, watching you handle it deftly and admire it, salivating at the sight of you holding his leash. It’s not even attached to his collar yet and he can’t get enough.

One of your hands goes back to his jaw and he leans into it again, big eyes trained on you as you stroke his jaw affectionately. In a fluid movement, you slip the hand down his neck, over the column of his throat-squeezing gently for a split second just to hear his breath hitch and watch his cock jerk in his briefs-and down to hook a finger into his collar. Simon sucks in a breath at that, shuffling forward a few inches on his knees and baring his neck for you to attach the leash. 

You chuckle quietly at his eagerness, and he keens. He never thought it would be something for him, but the times when you laugh and giggle at how needy he gets or how hard he is just from making out? His mind goes a little fuzzy and empty at it. Together you’ve discovered that he likes praise the most, being obedient and being called a good boy as he gets rewarded, but every so often he has nights where he gets a little bit bratty. He disobeys your orders in small ways, just enough to tick you off, and eagerly awaits his punishment. His favourite part of it is when you’re doling out the punishment, spanking him or edging and denying him etc etc, and you mock him for how needy he is. Something about the way you laugh and tease him for the wet patch growing on his briefs reaaally does a number on him.

Simon doesn’t think he’s quite up for that today, the desire to be your good boy and be rewarded is stronger he thinks, but whatever you decide will be best, naturally. 

You lean down over him to find the link in the collar, and his eyes fall down yet again. You’re still wearing the same blouse from earlier, and he’s been thinking about the way your breasts almost spill out of your bra since that morning. A small metal click makes him blink and look at you, now realising that you’ve attached the leash. A rush of breath escapes him, pupils dilating and cock twitching as his mind goes quiet. He’s not quite sure what it is, but something about finally having the collar and leash attached and in your grip always puts a sort of blanket over his mind, he becomes one track, just wired to please and obey you and he can’t get enough of it. 

What do you want, baby? Tell me and i might reward you with it tonight-

Simon blinks up at you, doe eyed, already dizzy with the thought of a reward. He hasn’t done anything yet and you’re being so nice to him, letting him know there’s the opportunity to earn a reward at all. 

He blinks and tries to muddle through his thoughts a bit, sifting through the jumbled mess to figure out what he wants to ask for, what you might grant him. His gaze drops again, flicking between your questioning gaze and the swell of your chest. Swallowing, his tongue flicks out over his lips and he tries to find the words. 

He doesn’t find the words. 

He stares at your chest again for a few seconds, presses his lips together before glancing up, and immediately looking back down again. He can’t help it, he can see the way your chest moves as you breathe, the teasing cups of your bra covering what he wants most, the pretty swell and the shade of your skin he loves so much. 

uhm-I-can you-can I-uh-

That laugh again. That soft little chuckle as he stutters over his words, so fixated on your breasts he can’t even properly say what he wants. All of a sudden you’re straightening up and he’s opening his mouth to protest-no, to beg, to beg you to come back and let him see-just-just a little-

A stern look stops him and he swallows, shifting his tired legs again as he watches your movements avidly, not wanting to miss a second. Slowly, your fingers undo the buttons of your blouse, one by one starting from the bottom, until the blouse hangs open to reveal your bra. 

It’s really nothing special, just a plain black t-shirt bra that came in a multipack from a few months ago-but to Simon it’s heavenly, and he can’t stop looking. Subconsciously he begins to shuffle forward, eyes fixed on your chest and hands beginning to reach up. It’s been too fucking long he can’t do it anymore, it’s been forever he thinks, but really any time he doesn’t have his mouth on your chest is wasted time in his opinion. 

It’s another thing he never hugely thought about, people would talk about being a tits or ass man and he’d shrug, figure they were both pretty nice he doesn’t see why he would pick. And then you guys started exploring, you started tiptoeing into submissive territory, and now Simon is never happier than when you’re riding him or jerking him off and let him put his mouth on your breasts. He’s borderline obsessed with it, he fantasises at work and daydreams at home of sitting down next to you, of you lifting your shirt enough for him to start licking and sucking as you play with his hair. 

He did that a few weeks ago. Had a long day at work and came home with only one thing on his mind, found you leaning back on the arm of the sofa and settled himself down next to you, big body squashed onto the piece of furniture as he gently pushed your shirt up over your chest. You hadn’t been wearing a bra and he’d almost started drooling, wasting no time in attaching his mouth to you, gently lapping at your skin with his tongue and suckling at your nipple as his eyes fluttered closed. 

He knows you’d been a little surprised, he does it a lot when you’re having sex or when you’re teasing him, but having him just come home and use you almost like a pacifier? That was new. It hadn’t been long before one of his legs hooked over yours though, pressing the bulge in his cargo pants up against you. You hadn’t even done anything, didn’t even move, just let him whimper and whine around your nipple as he sucked gently and rutted against your leg. Only a few minutes later his other hand had come up to squeeze and grope your neglected breast, moaning into your skin and kneading your flesh as his hips stuttered and pressed firmly against you, trembling a little before pulling back and exposing the wet patch seeping through his clothes to you. 

To your surprise, he still hadn’t stopped. 

Simon had kept at it, slowed his movements a little as his other hand loosened to a gentle hold on your breast. He’d simply laid there with his eyes blinking drowsily up at you and sucked softly at your nipple. Eventually your hand had come up to run your fingers through his hair, and he’d closed his eyes fully again, dozing off lightly a few minutes later but still suckling somewhat at you. 

A small tutting noise reaches him and brings his mind back, just in time for you to take a step back out of reach. The hands he was raising to touch your chest fall back to his thighs and he looks down despondently, realising he was about to try and touch you without permission. 

Silently chastising himself, Simon peers up at you imploringly, hoping you might forgive the slight. He’s been punished for less when you haven’t been in a very forgiving mood, but he hopes tonight will be different. He wants more affection tonight, wants the praise and adoration you bless him with on some evenings like this. It’s up to you of course, but he can hope. 

He watches you tilt your head and look at him calculatingly, chewing the inside of your lip as you evidently debate what to do with him this evening. 

If you stay like this while I go and shower, you might get what you want. Might, if you’re a good boy-think you can do that for me?

His body tenses, hands balling into fists as his eyes dart between you and the bathroom door. 

No-no I-

Your eyebrows raise and his cock thickens in his briefs, aching from the way you look down so condescendingly. 

You can’t be a good boy? You can’t or won’t?

Simon gapes at you, hand unfurling and fingers twitching against his thighs as he fights to not touch you, grab at your thighs, pull your leg between his so he can hump it, anything. He fumbles over his words again, unsure how to say what he means. He’s sort of broached the subject before, but not like this. Not when you’re staring down at him like you can see every part of him laid bare, like he’s offering up all his thoughts on a silver platter but you’re making him say it anyway for the fun of it. 

No-yes I-I mean I can-I will be-m’just-don’t wan’ y’to leave-wan’-want y’to stay-stay here-

He avoids your eyes. 

That’s enough, surely, maybe you’re feeling generous and will let him off with that, with his desperation peeking through his words as he implores you to stay. 

Why?

Simon squeezes his eyes shut, hands balling up once again and becoming sweaty as he tries to calm his racing heart. One word from you and he’s fumbling again, glancing at the knowing look on your face and feeling his cock twitch at being made to spell it out properly. 

I-I don’t want y’to shower-

He swallows thickly and clamps his mouth shut. Enough enough enough, no matter how much you experiment or learn together or research, he still gets skittish when something new is exposed. He gets twitchy and grumpy, and he realises how you’ve decided to deal with it. The times he cums the quickest are the ones where he’s forced to tell you what he wants, where he has to use his gruff voice that he was so convinced could never be submissive to ask you for what he wants. And now you’re doing the same to extract this new information, to needle out a kink waiting to be explored. He breathes out shakily as he realises he never would have said anything if not for this, and you wouldn’t be asking if you weren’t on board. 

I’ll ask again, Simon. Why?

His big eyes peer up at you, seeking any sign of displeasure on your face. You don’t like having to ask more than once, he knows. Shifting his thighs to give some weak sort of friction to his aching shaft, his mouth waters as he imagines, as he fantasises about why. 

You-I don’t want-want y’to-I-

His breath comes quicker, tongue tangling with the words as he tries to relax. 

The warmth of your hand cupping his chin startles him for a second, but he leans into the thumb stroking his jawline eagerly. 

It’s okay, you can take your time. I’ll get it out of you eventually-

Simon has no doubt you will, but he doesn’t want to displease you. He can say it, he will say it. 

Speaking slowly and blinking at an invisible point on your leg, he tries again.

I-I don’t want y’to shower be-ah-because I-you-your scent-you smell…good-

He looks up at you like a kicked puppy, itching to hold you and waiting with baited breath for your response. 

Your lips curve into an innocent smile, entirely fake. 

But…I’m all sweaty from working all day, Si…

He whimpers before he catches himself, head ducking down slightly against your hand. Your grip turns tighter, grasping his jaw and pulling him back up to keep eye contact. 

I know-I-I like it-

A smug grin stretches across your features as you let him go, finally satisfied that he’s telling the truth. 

Delivering a soft kiss to his forehead, you whisper my good boy at him and he melts, eyelids fluttering closed as he preens at your affection. 

He thinks it probably will be that type of night, you seem like you’re going to be generous and praising with him-his cock jerks again at the thought and at the remembrance of the reward he might be granted. Eventually his eyes get stuck on your chest, subconsciously shuffling forward another few inches and waiting with baited breath as you shrug your blouse off and reach behind you to unhook your bra.

Simon’s mouth hangs open as you drop the garment to the ground and slowly lift your hands, cupping your tits and rolling your nipples between your fingers and thumbs. He should be the one doing that, he should be touching you and worshipping your breasts like he so desperately needs to, rather than just listening to your soft sighs of pleasure as he sits motionless. 

He opens his mouth, has to close it again to swallow because his throat is so dry from need, and he simply utters please-

He’s rewarded with a small giggle from you, and your hand winding the leash around your wrist to tighten it, tugging him forcefully up on his knees rather than sitting on his heels. 

Stand

You say it simply, patiently, yet he practically scrambles to his feet. It’s a clumsy movement, nothing like his actions on the battlefield or around the other soldiers. Ony clumsy for you, in your presence, because of what you do to him. Because of the anticipation of what you might do to him. 

Simon keeps his eyes trained on yours, intent on being your good boy tonight, intent on earning his reward and being obedient, with being perfect for you and being praised as such. Pulling the leash behind you, you amble toward the sofa, turning as you reach it to tighten the leather around your hand again and manoeuvre him onto the cushions. 

He sinks onto the sofa with a grunt, the furniture creaking quietly in protest of his large stature. His thighs automatically widen a little and he sucks in a breath as the material of his briefs chafes against his sensitive tip. His shaft has been throbbing for ages, for too long, and his head swims as he imagines you taking pity on him soon and indulging him.

One step forward and you’re situated between his legs, chest hovering enticingly in front of his face. His mouth waters, and he licks his lips. Your nipples harden fully in front of him, and he sucks in another breath as he tries to reign himself in. It fills his nose with the tantalising scent of you, the scent he’s so addicted to, that he couldn’t bear to let you wash away with perfumed products and lotions.

One finger finds its way under his chin, digging your nail in slightly as you drag his face to turn up to you, tearing his gaze away from your bare breasts-even as he tries to flick back down to see again and again. 

Maybe I’m being a little cruel-you have been very very good for me, and I know exactly what you want as a reward. You can use your mouth-but if you misbehave and make me regret this you know you’ll be punished don’t you? Simon gulps and nods at you, inching his face forward to try and finally, finally fucking finally get his mouth on your breasts, to be able to suck your nipples into his mouth like he’s been fantasising of for hours, days. 

Just before his mouth reaches you a sharp tug on the leash pulls him back a few inches, leaving him panting and grunting as he tries to pull forward and poke his tongue out, attempting to lick at you even though he’s too far away. 

Please-ah-please I will-I’ll be so-s’good-I’ll be a good boy I-please-lemme just-

His hands scrabble at the fabric of the couch cushions, gripping them tightly as you look down sternly at him.

I know you will, you always are for me-he preens at that, cheeks dusting pink as his throat bobs with a nervous swallow-but be careful. I’m still kind of sore from the last time I let you do this, so be gentle or-

Or I’ll be punished-I won’t I’ll-I’ll make sure m’gentle-make it feel good f’you-please-now please can I-

He knows he shouldn’t have done that, he shouldn’t have interrupted you. By all rights you should be stepping back and yanking his leash, gripping his jaw and hissing that you warned him what would happen if he misbehaved. But it seems he’s been good enough so far to let it pass, and you only eye him for a few more seconds before nodding, acquiescing to his needy desires. 

Without wasting another second Simon lurches forward, latching his mouth around one of your nipples and sucking hard. The movement pulls the leash from your hand and he vaguely hears you gasp as your palm instead comes to cradle the back of his head to you, apparently surprised by his eagerness. 

Simon feels you sway on your feet from him pressing against you and takes a risk, hooking his arms around your waist to crush you further into him as he sucks greedily. 

Oh-okay okay easy-I said-oh-I said gentle remember? Si-Si I said gently-or I’ll have to stop y-

He doesn’t even let you finish, the thought of being stopped abhorrent to him, he just whimpers as he loosens his grip around you, lessening the pressure of his mouth and laving over your pert nipple with light strokes of his tongue for a minute. 

Soft brown eyes stare up at you, wide and round and seeking your approval at his change, his restraint. Barely contained, but restraint nonetheless. He spends another few minutes licking and sucking gently at your nipple, running his tongue over it and moaning to himself as he sucks your soft flesh into his mouth. Breathing hard, Simon shifts and presses his face harder into you, moving to pepper kisses over the swell of your breasts and your collarbone. 

When he reaches the crook of your neck he falters for a second, inhaling deeply as his fingers spasm on your waist and his hips buck up a little into nothing. He hears a small huff of amusement come from you but he can’t bring himself to focus too much on it, not when he’s been given such a reward-he certainly does not intend to waste the opportunity and shifts both hands to cup your breasts, groping and squeezing them. 

Feverishly, his head ducks back down again, nose pushing along the crease under your breasts and inhaling again. A shudder racks through his body and he can hardly believe his luck when you shift forward, gently settling a knee either side of his lap and taking care to hold the leash tightly still while you straddle him. Again, he doesn’t stop. He can’t stop, his mind feels foggy and blurred as he keeps kneading at your chest, leaning his forehead on your sternum and all but pressing your breasts against his cheeks, smothering himself. 

His breaths come hard and fast, inhales that seem far deeper than his exhales, as if he’s trying to cram as much of your scent into himself as he possibly can. With his hips bucking still, jerking up into nothing as you still hover just too far over him, he switches his attentions back, running his tongue sloppily along the underside of one of your breasts. The tip of the muscle tickles a little, dancing deeper and smearing spit over your skin as he pants and grunts against you. 

The coiling in his gut suddenly becomes noticeable as he draws your nipple into his mouth once more, suckling it and letting his eyes fall closed, and he startles at it, not wanting his reward to be over so soon. He can wait, he can hold out, he’ll be better-

You’re drooling on me sweetheart-

Simon's eyes fly open, shooting up to meet your gaze. He blinks slowly, and his eyes become heavy lidded as he keeps sucking, falling into the pacified state he did last time. Through his dazed thoughts and desperation he manages to listen to you, pulling away with a trail of spit connecting you to his lips to look down briefly. 

There’s drips on his thigh, globs of spit on your lower belly from his copious attentions, and he looks blearily at the spots for a few seconds before deciding he needs more, and he presses himself to your chest again. 

There’s a steady leak of precum dripping from his cockhead by this point, beading through the tight fabric of his briefs, and Simon whimpers when your thigh brushes against him, realising how sensitive he is. Cradling your breast in one hand, he squeezes gently as he sucks, repeated draws of the tight suction in his mouth that make you gasp before you giggle again, fingers combing through his hair. 

Christ Si, at this rate I’ll end up nursing if you’re not careful-

A contented sigh escapes you at the end of your sentence, and you settle down a little further into his lap as you do so. All too soon Simon recognises what’s happening, hears your words slip through the fog of his mind and sucks harder, squeezing his eyes shut, as his cock flexes in his briefs. He’s never thought of nursing before, doesn’t even want kids. He’s never thought of any of that, but the fantasy of doing this, being able to consume, being able to take and taste and relieve the ache you would feel-

No no not yet not yet not yet-

The fingers stop moving in his hair but he can only focus on the blinding pleasure that blurs his vision. More spit escapes him and smears over your skin as the wet patch saturates his briefs, his hips fighting to stay still and his arm still clutching you close while his other hand continues to knead the breast he can’t stop suckling. It thrums through his body, blinding him and dullinh his hearing for a few seconds as pulse after pulse of sticky cum throbs from his shaft, flared tip dragging along the material of his briefs and pushing a couple more dribbles of the pearly fluid from him. His balls pulse with every jerk of his cock, tightening and lifting toward his shaft before they finally feel empty and his thigh is warm with his sticky release.

His legs stop trembling eventually, leaving him weak and bone tired but still unwilling to take his mouth off of you. He only separates for a split second at a time, trying to stutter out his apologies. 

I-m’sorry I-s’too-couldn’t help it-I couldn’t-

Your fingers start moving again gently, nails scraping softly over his scalp and he melts into you. With a satisfied sigh he lets up a little bit, simply laves his tongue in broad strokes over your chest and breathes in the sweat soaked after-sex scent of sorts that clings to you. It fills him wonderfully once more and he smiles into your chest, face glued to your sternum and framed by your soft tits, the way he fantasises about every other minute of the day. 

A contemplative sound comes from just above his head and he pauses his ministrations, remembering with worrying clarity that his reward was to put his mouth on you, not to cum. He didn’t even ask, didn’t even try to get permission.

Simon looks up tentatively, and is met with a smile crossing your features. He knows that smile far too well. 

Well, I suppose tonight can be about stamina training then can’t it?

comments and reblogs huuuuugely appreciated bcus likes don't share my work 😔😔😔 really hope you enjoyed and thank u for reading if u made it this far! <333

🎀💞

I just know that Simon Riley wants his face sat on🤭

nsfw below the cut 🪷 mdni

You'd always been a little shy when it came to sex, understandably so considering that your boyfriend was a real life Adonis, some kind of cruelly beautiful deity come to taunt you for your prudishness. Obviously, you and Simon had done it, you'd fucked countless times when he came back from deployments or frustrated from debriefings gone bad, but it was always, for lack of a better word, tame. You'd always assumed, given his past, that he wouldn't be down to have sex, period. The beginning of your relationship was a minefield of navigating boundaries and understanding the complexity of the beautiful man you got to share your bed with. What you foolishly failed to recognise, however, is that whist you subconsciously saw Simon as wounded, he saw your fragility as clear as day, like a ripple under the surface of clear water.

He'd aways been so impossibly gentle with you, even when you'd wanted things differently, too afraid to ask him and send Simon spiralling back into that dark place he'd only recently been pulled from.

"Want you to fuck my face." Simon's deadpan voice snaps you from your reverie, brings you back to where you lay sprawled and waiting in the centre of your shared bed.

"I'm sorry?" You barely manage to splutter, propping yourself up on your elbows to look at where he sits patiently between your knees, not even needing to look down to your panties to know that your cunt is already dripping.

"Fuck, love." The sound of his exasperated sigh makes you feel like you've done something wrong, but the almost pained crinkle of his eyes confuses you. "You need me to spell it out? I'd like you to sit on my face and let me eat you out." Simon's words make you choke, jaw hanging agape as you process the fact that not only is he willing to take such a step in your sexual relationship, but also that he's so seemingly comfortable with the idea of you essentially fucking his face. Sure, he's eaten you out before, but never in such a compromising way. "Are you -" A soft kiss being placed to the sensitive skin of your inner thigh is enough to silence you as you look down at Simon practically grovelling between your legs.

"If you don't want to, you can say no, baby." "It's not that I don't want to. I just don't want to - fuck." You huff, slumping back against the mattress with a sigh as you struggle to find the words you need to express the way you feel. "You don't want to fuck?" He smirks wickedly at you, one hand still cradling your outer thigh as he presses his cheek to the warm skin, trying to lighten the mood. Ease you up a bit. "Simon." "Tell me what you're thinking. I'll make it make sense." God he's always so unbearably patient. It almost has you in tears.

"I just - I'm not so confident with stuff like that, you know? I mean it took us six months of having sex for me to even feel comfortable enough to ride you. Now you want me to sit on your face?"

Simon's eyes soften at your reasoning, and he practically drags himself up the bed until he's face to face with you, propping himself up on his elbows to stare down at your face, so beautifully flushed and bashful.

"If you don't want to do it, that's fine, but I need you to know, that I look at you and get hard okay? You're the most beautiful thing I've seen. Ever. If I died by being suffocated between your legs? Fuckin' kill me already, yeah?"

His words have you giggling softly as you play with his hair, distracting yourself from the burning arousal in the pit of your tummy.

"Okay." You nod, slowly, meeting his eye to make sure that he sees you're serious. "You don't have to say yes if you're not sure." "I'm sure, but can we go slow?" "Of course, baby. We can do whatever you feel comfortable with."

It doesn't take long for you to be sat nervously on Simon's hips, clothes piled on the floor, discarded in order for you to sit naked atop him, bottom lip pulled nervously between your teeth. "Do I just -" You point awkwardly between the general vicinity of your cunt to Simon's face, heart fluttering when you catch the way he gazes up at you like some sort of statue, some masterpiece. "Mhm." He nods slowly, pupils blown impossibly wide, the chocolate of his gaze turning almost entirely black. You feel his massive palms take your hips, guiding you up to your knees before settling your slick cunt just over his face.

"Sit." He grunts when he doesn't immediately feel the press of you against his mouth, his nose barely touching your puffy clit. "What if I hurt you?" "I'll let you know. Now, sit." Before you know it, his fingers are digging into your hips, leaving you gasping at the suddenly overwhelming sensation of his entire lower face stuffed against your pussy.

"Holy sh-" You whine, already beginning to roll your hips in search of stimulation, all whilst Simon gives a contented hum which rumbles through you and has you clenching around nothing. His hands guide your hips in their rhythm as his tongue licks a flat stripe between your wet folds, leaving you stuttering and your eyes rolling back, all whilst you grip onto his hair like of you let go he'll disappear entirely.

He sets a languorous pace with his tongue, eating at you like you're his final meal, hands digging firmly at the meat of your ass whilst he uses the slight bump at the bridge of his nose to press up against your clit, making you dizzy. Whilst he uses both hands to guide you, you use the hand not tangled into his hair to roll a hardened nipple between your thumb and forefinger, the sensation going straight to your pussy and making you gasp. Simon, perceptive as ever, notices your want and pushes his tongue inside you to push just that little bit further - and he can tell that you're close by the way your thighs clench around his ears and the fact that you're wonderfully more vocal than usual.

Similarly, sensing your oncoming orgasm, you desperately attempt to pull yourself off of him, all of a sudden shy about cumming on his face like you haven't done it countless times before. Your wriggling is met with a small slap to your ass which has you seeing stars as the small sting snaps the elastic band stretching taut in your lower belly, and Simon laps up every bit that you'll give him.

"Didn't think that men like me got to go to heaven." Simon sighs when you both lay sprawled and happy in bed together.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

I did not intend to write 1.1k of smut when I opened my laptop this evening but boundaries and communication are just so !! sexy !!

N e ways I'll just leave this here for y'all💕

Into the Fire

TF141 x f!reader

Part 6

Series Masterlist

TW: MDNI 18+, violence, injury description, blood, horror elements, character death, p in v, rough sex

AN: this is it, the last part of my mini epic and I am so happy you’ve all stuck with me with this. It’s great to see how many people enjoy my version of Gaz! And it’s been great to write for the rest of the characters as well. Now enjoy 🖤⚔️🛡️

Cold dread settles into the pit of your stomach at the guard’s words, and talk of boats appearing in the harbour as if by magic. Squires hurry in carrying weapons and armour, Price and Simon give orders and begin to direct the defensive forces. A hand grips your arm and you turn to see Laswell pulling you from your seat.

“Come on, let’s get you somewhere safe,” she says firmly, her expression grim. With a final glance at Kyle, who gives you and Laswell a brief nod, you let her escort you from the room. Already you can hear distant yelling echoing through the halls, screams of fear and pain, the clashing of steel on steel as the fight enters the castle.

“Keep with me,” Laswell says, trying to reassure you and distract you as you wind your way through the twisting halls.

You come to an abrupt halt as Laswell freezes, peering around her you see Valeria standing there, blood smeared on the short arming sword in her hand and on her clothes.

“I just killed one of the enemy,” she announces before either of you can question her. “Come, it’s safe this way,” she says, gesturing for you and Laswell to follow her.

“Where were you?” Laswell asks firmly, not moving and slowly edging you behind her. As you shift, you see her pulling a dagger from a belt sheath hidden at the small of her back. Frustration flicks quickly across Valeria’s features, darkening her eyes further as the Steward refuses to take the bait.

“Doesn’t matter, I’m here now,” she shrugs, and you notice the tightening of her grip on her sword. “Graves wants her, now give her to me.” She lunges forward, sword raised to stab into Laswell’s guts. Laswell reacts with incredible speed, hand lashing out and knocking the other woman’s wrist away as though she knew it was coming. She shoves you harshly to the side, bouncing you from the wall and sending you crashing to the ground with an undignified grunt. The two women grapple, Laswell slightly hindered by her skirts but still managing to overpower the smaller woman.

You clamber to you feet just as Valeria is struck with the pommel of Laswell’s dagger, knocking her out cold.

“Are you okay?” you ask, beginning to move towards her but something stops you dead in your tracks.

A wave of cold nausea makes you stagger, almost doubling over as it feels as though all the warmth in the air is sucked out by something. An unspeakable feeling of dread prickles your skin, and you want to curl up and hide, but something in your chest pushes back, a tiny spark of heat, that forces you to turn your head and look back down the corridor. It’s as though the torches shrink back, too afraid to burn as the dark figure steps around the corner.

“It’s Graves…” you hear Laswell whisper, the name too apt for the creature. He walks towards you, stepping over Valeria’s unconscious form and ignoring Laswell. Her eyes go wide as he ignores her, and she takes her chance to lunge with her blade at him as he moves past. A tendril of pure darkness and shadow slithers from beneath his cloak and cracks out like a whip, sending her reeling backwards into the wall with tremendous force, and she crumples to the ground. The tendrils grow in size and number, climbing the walls around him and spreading like twisted vines everywhere except where the torches burn on the walls.

“There you are darlin’, I’ve been looking for you,” he purrs, grinning to show those rows of inhumanly sharp teeth. His skin is the pallor of the undead, pulled tight over the bones beneath. You get the impression he was once handsome, but now he looks as he is, a shadow of a human. “You’ve got a little passenger in there, haven’t you?” He continues as he walks closer. “I can’t let you walk around with that.”

Simon’s words surface in your mind: run. You turn and sprint away from Graves, hearing his frustrated snarl as you do, and you try not to imagine the sight of him chasing behind you. In your terrified state you go the only way you know by heart from where you are, which is right towards the healer’s work rooms. If you’re lucky you can get there and bolt the door before he reaches you, that’s the only plan you have. Shouts and screams echo around you as you run, fighting guards and knights spilling through archways and doors.

Something screams in your head that the enemies are different, they move in a staggering walk, helmets covering their faces. One nearly knocks you over, tugging its axe from the skull of a downed guard and turns to you at the last moment. Its helmet has been lost and a rotted, eyeless face turns to you.

They’re dead already… an army of risen corpses at the command of The Shadow, Graves. You rush past the inhuman warrior, your speed redoubled in a bid to get away from that as well as the creature chasing you.

You make it to the healer’s rooms and throw open the door desperately before plunging inside. Graves is close behind you, his dead eyes meeting yours as you push the heavy door closed, but his shadows pin the door open as he approaches. Although it's futile you push against the door but there is no hope to close it.

You smash into the table, thrown back by the force of Graves ramming into the door, and you slide across the surface taking everything on the surface with you. Glassware shatters beneath you, cutting into your hands and knees as you land painfully. The brazier tumbles in a shower of sparks and burning coals, rolling across the flagstone floor, coming to rest against your skin. You blink, looking down at the still burning black lump, and then at a smash bottle of alcohol that still holds some of the volatile liquid.

“C’mon darlin’, let’s get this over with,” you hear Graves taunting you as he moves around the table.

You lift the coal in your hand, the skin hot but not burning, refusing to blister and blacken as it should. The liquid in your mouth irritates your nose, eyes watering and streaming from the burn of neat alcohol.

“What the..?” No…!” he shouts, thrusting a wall of darkness between you as you blow as hard as your lungs will let you. The spray ignites on the coal in your hand and a spray of fire blossoms from your lips, shredding the shadows and coating Graves. You keep blowing until your mouth and lungs are empty, but something shifts and lets go, leaving you in that same conflagration and ensnares the lich.

He screams and howls, twisting and writhing as the living flames devour him. A storm of fire fills the room, your clothes and hair whipping in a frenzy around you as you stand up, but only the undead creature burns. Slowly, in a daze, you step backwards, moving away from the lich as he curls in on himself, smoking and bubbling tendrils of shadow falling limp and twitching to the ground as they burn, and you edge towards the door. Wrenching your eyes from the horror you turn to the door and find Kyle, bloodied and stained, staring at you in disbelief.

“You still alive?” Kyle asks, eyebrows raised in concern. He holds out his hand, and you step through the flames on trembling legs until you grasp it, letting him pull you out of the fire yet again. He smells of coppery blood and sweat as you bury your face against his chest, ignoring the hardness of his chainmail against your skin, and focusing on the tightness of his arms around you as he pulls you tight against him.

The flames die down, leaving a congealed black mess on the floor by the hearth, but everything else is unburnt. As you glance over you swear you see something shining flutter away and up the flue.

“Come with me, let’s get you out of here,” he mutters into your hair and leads you away towards the main courtyard.

The main doors of the keep stand open, wounded and dying guards lie where they fell, and the crumpled corpses of Grave’s risen army are scattered between them. It seems Shepherd put his trust in the lich’s dead army and brought few living combatants with him, and now the Baron kneels on the ground before Price, blood leaking from a blow to his ribs. You see the other Simon and MacTavish behind him, coated in blood and gore, Farah and Alex nearby just as stained and bruised from battle.

As you near them, you hear Price and Shepherd speaking, the tip of Price’s sword pressed against the bald man’s throat.

“I am not going to beg for my life, not from you or anybody else,” the Baron wheezes, hand clutching at the gushing wound in his side, leaking through his fingers and onto the floor.

“Wouldn't do you any good,” Price replies. His eyes narrow slightly and he pushes his full weight behind the hilt of his weapon, sliding it into Shepherd’s neck with a crunching of cartilage. There’s a wet, strangled sound and you turn away until you hear the heavy thud of the man falling to the ground dead.

“It’s not over,” Price grunts. “Where’s Graves?”

“Dead, well, completely dead,” Kyle answers. “She disintegrated him.”

Farah catches your eye and nods at you, a small satisfied smile on her face.

“Then we owe you our thanks, healer,” Price says, wiping his blade on Shepherd’s cloak before sheathing it as his hip. aswell emerges from the keep looking pale and dazed, helped by Alejandro. Beside them, Rudy drags a bound Valeria, spitting curses and threats, her head still bleeding.

“I’m sorry, it was Valeria who opened the gates,” Alejandro snarls, ignoring the woman’s poisoned words. “She’s yours to do with as you see fit.”

“She goes to the cells, I’ll deal with her later,” Price sighs, shaking his head and he glares at Valeria. She struggles against Rudy’s grip, but you suspect it is for a show of defiance rather than any real intention to try and escape. If she broke free now, anyone in the immediate vicinity would gladly slice her in two.

The clean up is exhausting, so many dead, so many wounded. The rotting corpses left by Graves and Shepherd are carted away and burned, their ashes scattered into the sea to be swept away by Alejandro and his crew. The charred remains of The Shadow and likewise disposed of, the oily mark left on the floor scrubbed and scrubbed until it fades away from sight. Price has Shepherd’s remains removed by the priests and taken to be embalmed for his kin to retrieve, if they wish to do so. You work day and night, caring for those that can be saved.

Laswell makes a full recovery and her wife takes care of her.

It feels like days until you finally sit down and rest, body aching and mind about ready to unravel completely having not slept in a bed while tending to your patients. You make it back to your own chambers, feet dragging on the floor as you shuffle through the door and slump at the table. After rubbing your hands over your face you notice the bowl of apples before you, a smile creeping to your lips as you admire the shining red fruit.

“You’re not going to start throwing those again?” Kyle asks from the doorway, and you pick one up.

“I don’t think I have the energy to do it, even if I wanted to,” you smile over your shoulder at him. He shuts the door and walks over to you, gently taking your hand and pulling you up to stand with him, and carefully taking the apple from your hand and placing it on the table. You smirk as he does so.

“You’ve not had time to talk so I kept out of the way, but I wanted to say how proud I am of you. You saved a lot of people by taking on Graves like that,” he tells you, his face sombre.

“So you saved my life, and I was in your debt,” you say, tapping your chin thoughtfully. “But now I’ve saved lots of lives, so does that mean you owe me a debt now?” you grin despite your fatigue. His expression softens, and he smiles, pulling you against him by gripping the softness of your hips.

“I suppose that’s right,” he agrees. “So, I’m yours to do with you please.” His eyes linger on your lips for a moment, and arousal ignites in your tired body.

“I think, I think I’d like my knight to take me to bed,” you reply, and you see his pupils flare at your possessive choice of words.

“I am yours, but you are still mine,” he whispers, leaning down so his lips brush softly against your cheek.

“I think I can live with that,” you sigh, letting your eyes flutter closed as he presses a kiss to your neck. He does as you ask, with great care he guides you to your bed, slowly undressing the pair of you until you lie on the soft, clean sheets and he lies beside you. One rough hand glides over the swell of your stomach and cups one of your breasts, while he leans over and kisses your lips, kneading the plump mound and catching your nipple between his finger and thumb.

His kisses become more demanding, his hand roaming across your skin, caressing and squeezing whatever he can touch, and your heart pounds in response. Your tiredness ebbs away, replaced with a desperate need for closeness, to feel alive and most importantly, for him.

“Kyle, you need to fuck me,” you rasp out hoarsely, and him smirks, his cock already hard and leaving a wet trail as it rubs against your thigh.

“Do I?” he grins, voice low and deep, and you feel his chest rumble against you. “I’d better do as My Lady says.” Without preamble his shift between your thighs, spreading them wider than necessary so he can admire your glistening pussy. Watching your face and drinking in your expression, he sinks himself slowly into your aching heat, the stretch making your arch beneath him.

“Is that what you needed?” he groans, voice laced with gravel as you tighten around his length.

“Fuck, yes,” you trill back at him, clutching at his biceps as he holds himself above you. He draws back and fills you again, and again, each slap of skin against skin pulling a reedy moan from you. Your fingers curl and you nail dig at his skin, and your legs wrap around his lithe hips, urging him deeper inside.

“You want more?” he hisses into your ear, cradling your head between his forearms. You burble an incoherent agreement, and he tenses his arms against your shoulders before pounding into you mercilessly. It’s nearly impossible to breath as he pins you below him, fucking you with all his strength, and your pussy makes lewd, wet noises. You pull him harder with your legs, muscles tightening and your orgasm building much quicker than you’d anticipated. Every thrust pushes you closer to the edge as every nerve sparks with pleasure, and your mind goes blank, registering only the feeling of being completely surrounded and filled by Kyle.

The tension crests, the pleasure peaks, and you wail as you come, clenching around his cock enough to make him moan and his hips stutter. Your gasp in greedy lungfuls of air, sweating blossoming on your skin and his, and he slows the motion of his hips to a lazy rolling. Once the waves ebb, his places a gentle kiss to your lips.

“Hmmm… that’s one,” he grins, dark eyes sparkling down at you.

“What d’you mean?” you whimper, aftershocks catching at you still as he grinds into you.

“I mean,” he mumbles against your lips, “we’ve only just started.”

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I feel so fucking nasty. I absolutely want death.