🐈

Him on top, of course, one arm nestled under your torso and holding you close. The other slung above his head, forearm resting just above you in a lazy sprawl.

You've learned that this is his go-to position after eating. Something about a fully belly and feeling safe, warm in your presence just makes him too tired for the more ambitious stuff you usually do. Ghost would much rather lie on top of you, squishing you under his massive figure.

"Fuckin hell— hold still, lovie." Ghost groans when you squirm at a particularly harsh thrust. Not like you could actually go anywhere when he completely settles his weight into you and switches from thrusts to grinding.

"W– what–? Si...c'mon, baby you promised...!" You groan, huffs because he had promised to fuck you earlier!

"I'm inside you, ain't i?" He grunts, slinking the other arm under you too for a proper cuddle, the heavy thickness of his cock still deep inside.

"Yeah, but you know thats not what I— uh....simon? Si...? Oh my god—" steady snoring above you.

Of course he decided now was the best time to nap. Fucking food coma again.

taking price and ghost fighting and running with it.

some stupid argument about john not following rules in their little tuesday off base bar games blossoming into two weeks worth of high level pettiness.

snide remarks, shoulder shoving, hell the only time they even looked at each other these days was when they were on the mats. knuckles red and angry as they tore at one another. pride too solid to shake.

which is how you landed beneath simon.

wobbling cries muffled by the thick of his glove. baby doll tee pulled over your swaying tits and showing off a glistening sweaty back to him.

"s-si'! hun—" you hiccup, words slurred beneath the fabric. back stinging with wicked pleasure as he bends you into a mean arch. he watches the fat of your ass ricket with every drive home of his hard pelvis.

"sh, lovie. can' let big man see us 'ere hm?" he grins, balaclava pulled over his nose. he licks a fat wet strip up your nape. groaning at the musky sent of sex that pours over the room. "fuckin, juusstt like tha',"

prices room.

atop prices desk.

without price.

he curves his hand around your right thigh, smacking harshly at the puffy skin of your ass. you squirm, nails digging into the wooden desk. moans only meeting his covering hand.

he dips his hand down to the slick cream mess between you two. stringy connections of cum pull taught each time he drags out all the way to his tip, just to shove all the way back in as he hauls you backwards and shoves his hips forwards. you scream, eyes white as you claw at the hand around your jaw.

he gathers the slick, white ring around his cock creating gummy noises he isnt bothered to muffle.

simon also knows important papers lay just beneath your rocking body. he rubs at your clit messily, juices soppy. you keen, stomach throbbing with the buldge he bullies into you. you smack at his hand, water brimming your tearline.

everything blurs hot for a second. the slamming of a door doesnt register past your clotted ears.

"wot the fuc—" price barges in. face hot with anger before his eyes slot to yours. he watches as shameful lust swirls in them before he flickers down to the wet connection between you and the lieutenant.

you whimper, would be more embarrassed if you hadnt fucked them both before.

simon plows into your feral, blunt covered nails digging into your cheek.

"gon' cum pretty girl? righ' on the old mans shite?" his fingers move from over your mouth to cupping your jaw firmly. moving your head to arch it back. eyes bearily finding him upside down.

he grins, eyes squinted in pure joy.

looking back up to price as he feels you tighten around him the most deliciously. browns burning with complete intention. youre lost, too worried about your impending explosion of a release to truly care as price watches you melt dumb.

he kisses your temple. feeling you muddle over.

babbles leave swollen lips and brows completely furrowed. "there! t-there, please si'! f-fuc—" with his mean pinch on your clit you choke on your moans, blanking as all crashes down on you.

nails dig into simons skin, blood prickling beneath. raspy screaming moan bouncing between both mens ears.

by the time you blink back to current reality, youre carefully laid over johns ruined desk. damp body smudging papers as they stick to your panting chest.

amateur porn star reader and friend soap where soap so happens to stumble into reader’s videos accidentally.

he doesn’t mean to at first, it was just a coincidence that he didn’t even register the possibility that it could be you- that is until he caught the familiar anklet you always wore.

then, it was just pure curiosity. the more he watched, the more he couldn’t stop…and he kept telling himself it was just that: curiosity…

but it wasn’t until late one night when he’s fisting his cock to the various videos in your library, does he pause when he sees a familiar man- that tattoo…that mask on that dresser. that damn fucking mask. Thats when he knows it isn’t just curiosity anymore.

he forgets the urge he has to cum and immediately picks up the phone, leg bouncing before he heard a click on the other end. “Hello?”

“YOU DID PORN WITH [x]?!”

“mate, it’s 2 in the morning,” replies a groggy voice on the other end.

“Ghost, did you, or did you not, have sex with [x]?”

there’s an audible sigh on the other end before a response comes through. and to soap, it’s like a whole era has gone by. “It was like a friends with benefits thing. we both had feelings for each other but with deployment round the corner, we decided to keep it casual. as for the porn thing, that was her idea and I just went along with it.”

fuck. soap mumbles from the other end of the line. “dude, you gotta get me in on it.”

“fuck off. ask her yourself.”

soap grumbles a response but quickly hangs up and quite frankly, ghost is too tired to actually care so he doesn’t bother following up.

over the next few days, soap is constantly trying to dance around the topic- “what d’ya think of simon?” “does the mask thing turn you on?” but you somehow have an answer for everything and if he didn’t know better, he’d leave it there. so, he does what he has to do-

“I know you did porn with ghost.”

and from there, everything unravels. he’s not shy about his intentions and as much as you try to push him off, he’s just so damn persistent. so with his stupid puppy dog eyes, you find yourself saying yes.

soap just can’t wait for your next stream. he gets a haircut, even shaves himself prim and proper for the camera and shows up jittering with excitement.

and you? you can’t even look him in the eye while you’re setting up the camera.

“I thought the shy act was just for the camera but I guess you’re just always like this.” you swallow a lump in your throat from the insinuation: he’s watched you before.

immediately, he’s on you. poor bastards who can only watch you through their screens, he thinks. a sharp clap comes down on your ass, your tits, your cunt- anywhere he can get his hands on. “like it rough, huh? aye, I know you do.” he doesn’t need to ask, he’s seen the videos.

he’s eating you out feverishly, fingers stuffing your cunt to the brim and curling them to a delicious angle that just makes you delirious.

you grab your pillow, covering your face with it while muffling your pitiful moans. “look at this whiny clit, oh she’s just beggin’ for some love.”

despite the embarrassment from the narration, your high builds up quick, but soap is a stubborn man who denies you that climax. “wanna hear you say you’re my little cum dump, baby.”

and although you were naked and spread wide for him, you still had your pride so you bit on your tongue to stay quiet. but soap isn’t deterred. instead, he’s sucking on your clit for dear life, alternating between languid movements up and down your slit and rapid flicks against the bundle of nerves.

he does this over and over and over- threatening an all night stream if you don’t give him what he wants. so eventually you mumble- “I-I’m your…your cumdump,” your words are broken with sobs but they’re audible.

soap smirks triumphantly, grabbing a fistful of your hair and forcing you into a nasty arch. “Louder, let your audience know just whatcha are.”

you sniffle, so close to breaking from a mind shattering orgasm. “Y-your cumdump Johnny! Johnny! Pl-please…c-cumming!”

and with the best seat in the house, he quite literally watches your mind go blank. your body trembles with the vigor of all the stolen orgasms that came before. and the haze in your head was so intense that you don’t even notice your screen flashing with a notification-

oh yeah. god forbid johnny is a little curious after hearing your unyielding cries and moans through the wall last night. it’s not his fault he wants to know what all the fuss is about. it can’t be as great as you’re advertising.

and of course he’s rummaging through your drawers to find yours. no he isn’t buying his own when yours is just waiting for him, tucked beneath your nearly folded underwear. it’s already charged up and everything!

it doesn’t take him long to get hard, not when he’s surrounded by all of your things, your smell, your sheets, the underwear he dug through to find your toy. he’s sporting a stiffy in no time at all.

he starts as usual, stroking up and down, gripping harder at the base and thrusting his hips up into his palm. standard procedure.

when he’s nearly halfway there, that’s when he turns the toy on. studying the mechanics before positioning it directly above his tip.

he’s cumming instantly, and harder than he’s ever cum before. he bucks his hips involuntarily, rubbing his bare ass all over your nice, clean sheets.

he doesn’t have time to do anything about it, though, because you’ve just opened the front door, ready to unwind after a terrible day at work.

he does what he can to conceal the evidence, giving the toy a sloppy wipe against his shirt before running to greet you like nothing happened at all.

breathless and a bit red, he asks you about your day.

“you’re being weird, johnny...”

and god if the disgusted look you give him doesn’t make him hard all over again.

“….i’m going to my room.”

you pull your toy out of your drawer and immediately throw it back down. johnny’s cum glistens on the red silicone.

You're a lone survivor in the apocalypse, group having been picked thin from well...everything. zombies are one thing but humans are another.

Maybe ghost thinks he recognizes you, some intern that used to work on base, or at least close enough. You're defenseless to this monster as he drags you further into the abandoned apartment complex he seemed to call home. He? It? You're not sure.

The days are long of it simply following you everywhere, he doesn't try to restrict your movement around his...territory? Happy to let you roam, watch you scavenge for food.

Nights are...worse.

The monster forces you into his den, a pile of clothes covered in old blood. Some items he holds often, a blue cap, a boonie hat. Sometimes it puts them on you, wraps you up in all three arms. Grumbles and Gurgles in your ear, not sleeping but playing at it.

The hand never strays lower that your waistband but...surely it won't stay like that.

What will you do then? ...would you run?

 nerd!gojo with a corruption kink ՞. .՞

satoru is obsessed with the idea and making you do things you wouldn’t do. 

he likes the fact that you’re sweet and quiet and only save your giggles for him, but he also likes when you’re gagging on his dick with tears filled to the brim dripping out of your eyes with your hand in between your thighs. 

his eyes glued to yours with mischief, his stomach swirling with butterflies because of how easy it is to get you to do things with him and him alone.

you and satoru are one and the same, both perverted freaks; the only difference is that you never explored it. 

way too sweet and fragile before, not even realizing when satoru asked you to come study at his place it meant him being balls deep inside of your mouth giving you instructions. 

you didn't even touch yourself alone; that’s when satoru knew he had a gem, his own personal doll to corrupt and bark orders to, knowing you would do them. 

the first thing he did was have you sit in his lap while he showed you porn of women that looked exactly like you, talking you through the video while his hand slowly slid in between your thighs, rubbing you through the thin fabric you had on for panties. 

“already that wet just from videos? "fuck, you’re cute.” 

this was his own wet dream come to life, having you unexperienced, wet, and horny in his lap waiting for what came next.

the first thing he ever made you do was try to touch yourself while he watched, knowing you had no prior knowledge on how to do it, his eyes glued to your hand and how it trembled while your index and middle fingers made contact with your slick that coated your slit. 

“there you go, you’re a pro already.” 

a sly smirk on his face while he watched, saliva coating in his mouth and his palms getting sweaty watching. 

as much as he wanted to swoop in and put his hand over yours guiding, watching felt better, naughtier, like a guilty pleasure. he wanted to see you ache and get frustrated with yourself because you couldn’t properly get yourself off. 

the more this went on, the more stuff he started bringing to you.

“it’ll feel good, i promise. if it doesn't, you can slap me.” 

before sliding in between your thighs and licking down your slit, gathering all your sweetness that coated his tongue and fingers that slipped into you.

gasping as time went on, his tongue flicking repeatedly on your clit and his fingers curved inside. 

“you know what this skirt does to me, luv,” simon growls lowly in your ear, his front pressed firmly against your back as his hands roam down your thighs, bunching the material up as it reveals your ass and the cute little panties you had on underneath.

“don’t know what you’re talking about” you smirk, playing coy. you knew exactly what you were doing.

“maybe i should remind you then, huh?” he gives you no time to answer as he pushes you down against the kitchen counter, the marble cold against your skin. a stark contrast to the heat coming from simon behind you.

his large hands reach for your panties, pulling them down with ease and exposing your glistening cunt. a groan falls from his lips as he sees this, immediately fighting off the urge to just delve head first into your sweetness.

“so fuckin’ pretty,” he says more to himself than to you.

After the life Simon Riley has had, it’s really not surprising that he just can’t get it up anymore. He’s tried, time and time again, but the blood doesn’t pump through him the same way it did. And it isn’t that he doesn’t have a sex drive, god no, one look at you and he wishes he could fuck you into the mattress until your tears stain the pillows and the only sounds falling from your mouth are screams of pleasure.

You walk around the apartment, his big t-shirt on, no panties underneath, and it drives him insane. You’re an entire decade younger than him, young and sexy, and he can’t help but feel guilty for letting you stay with him knowing that he can’t give you what you want in bed.

It doesn’t stop him from eating you out until your clit is puffy and your walls are rubbed raw by his calloused fingers. When his head is between your legs, he tries, he really does. He gets so worked up, grinding his soft cock against the bed, willing it to get hard so he can fuck you right after, but it never does.

All it ends in is you cumming on his face one too many times and him walking out of the room without saying a word in pure humiliation.

You don’t take it to heart, you know he beats himself up for it, saying he isn’t good enough, that you should find someone who can actually give you what you want and keep up with you at that. Every time you reassure him, that he does satisfy you, that he never fails to make you feel good regardless of how he does it, but it seems to go in one ear and out the other.

But tonight, tonight is different and you will find a way to fuck your man.

P★rnstar!Simon who was ready to leave the industry until Johnny showed him a video of yours one night.

Maybe one more video wouldn’t hurt.

P★rnstar!Simon who’s on the phone the next morning telling his manager to get something booked. He doesn’t listen when Price rambles on about how you have completely different audiences so it might not work.

“All due respect, I don’t care. Either way if I’m in a video, people will click regardless and by the looks of it the same goes for them and their viewers.”

P★rnstar!Simon who insists the two of you get to know one another before filming because if you want an intimate shoot, he’ll give you exactly that. What better way than to become familiar with each other? You know, just to double check the chemistry will be convincing. And who are you to turn down a free lunch date with an attractive man?

“No no, don’t worry about the bill, it’s on me.”

P★rnstar!Simon who brings you your favourite tea on the day of filming and thoroughly listens to you over everyone else on how you want it to be carried out. His usual onscreen genre hasn't been so tame but he finds himself looking forward to this scene with you more than anything he’s ever done in his career.

P★rnstar!Simon whose touch is so gentle and caring whilst filming. He takes his time, making sure everything he does is the way you want it. He keeps an eye on your every reaction, every sound he brings out of you. The scene is raw, natural and he forgets for a moment that the cameras are on the two of you. Has to stop himself from getting carried away, reminding himself that it’s all fake, even when it feels truly genuine.

“God, you feel so good wrapped around my cock, love.”

P★rnstar!Simon who has tons of videos published, and not a single one of them has him kissing his scene partner. Yet he just can’t stop his lips from connecting with yours as he shoots his cum deep inside you, hands intertwined.

P★rnstar!Simon who checks on you as soon as the cameras are off, making sure that you’re alright and everything's good.

“Y’alright sweetheart? Can I get you anything?”

P★rnstar!Simon who manages to get your number but is too scared to contact you after that day in case he screws up and says something that comes across as weird. It takes a lot of convincing from Johnny before he finally calls you one night.

P★rnstar!Simon who smiles to himself when you pick up. The two of you talking on the phone for hours about the most random things in the world until you both fall soundly asleep, phones still in hand.

“open your eyes,” he commands you, his voice deep and rough. “I said, open em. are ya gonna piss me off too?”

and so you find it in you to open them despite the embarrassment that sits low in your gut as he ruts himself into you. It’s not hard to make out who’s in front of you. his warm skin and signature hat makes him easy to identify and as your vision focuses, you can make out the crimson on his cheek and the sweat building on his neck.

you look at him, almost apologetically, as if saying “I’m sorry you have to see me like this,” because Kyle truly is an angel and the idea of his knowing what your eyes looked like when all fucked out seemed like a sin on its own.

first, he calls out soap for texting you late at night. john fists the hair on your head till you’re facing the scot who’s not looking at your eyes, but somewhere lower. “y’know what couples do at night, Mactavish? I’ll give you a hint.” price snakes his arm between your legs, pinching and rolling your clit to which you let out a pained and delicious mewl.

and next in line is gaz, whose gesture of buying you your favorite foods has gone unliked by price. luckily, Gaz is sitting right next to soap so you don’t have to strain yourself to find him. Gaz knows he shouldn’t stare…but he can’t help himself and surprisingly, the captain hasn’t told anyone to stop so he swallows the lump in his throat, and commits the sight before him to memory.

then there’s ghost, who refuses to acknowledge he has actively done anything. “bullshit. wanna tell me why you’re always staring at her ass?” which shuts the brooding man up immediately.

your orgasm comes quick, as it always did. your words come out broken and desperate but they barely register to your boyfriend who has his own agenda.

your eyes roll back as you climax, the euphoria sending you into a blissful state of haze. but john doesn’t stop, not when he has a point to prove.

so he fucks you through your high, and then he fucks you more. your hand presses against his thigh with no real pressure, sobbing cries of overstimulation.

“after today, i want no more foolery from any of you. I’d suggest you take today for all it’s worth because after tonight, you can all go to your beds and jerk off your pathetic cocks to the memory of this and. nothing. else.” he punctuates each word with a sharp thrust, willing either your legs or the desk legs to give out.

“do i make myself clear?”

You're slumped over your bed, feeling the familiar feeling of a dick sliding through your wet folds, but the thing is you're fully dressed and home alone, the team left hours ago to the pub.

Your back arched, clit throbbing and slick pooling in your panties. The person could be any one of your team mates, they're all horny mutts who can't keep it in their pants.

A moan slips from your mouth, feeling a fat tip slip in and out, nothing more nothing less.... clearly ghost.

That's until you felt another head slip in beside it, your back arched even deeper, knees digging into your bed. Soap. They're both taking turns sticking just the head in, it's driving you crazy.

A few minutes of this and you feel the familiar buzz of a vibrator press against your clit, you gasped, grabbing your phone to text the team but before you can even hit send your body locks up into a strong orgasm, legs quivering violently and your jeans getting soaked.

“kyyyle,” you slur, leaning over the table to which Gaz cracks a smile. “so pretty…anyone ever tell you you’re pretty? like ‘men should be buying you dinner’ pretty.”

soap snorts, an amused smile on his lips. “Ya don’ even get a handsome, just fuckin’ pretty.”

“oi, piss off, soap,” replies gaz with no real heat behind it. “and you,” he starts, bringing his attention backed to your slumped form, “are a shitty drinker.”

you giggle, barely lifting up your head from the table.

price shakes his head, taking a large swing from the pint. “kids these days.”

the laughter dies down, everyone enjoying the relaxing ambiance that’s been so hard to enjoy with missions on end these days. that is until-

“ugh- I’m so horny.”

the table stills, all eyes landing on your slumped form before soap bursts into uncontrollable laughter. his fist slams the table as gaz tries to still the man who’s slightly tipsy and leaning back in his chair.

“bloody hell,” ghost mumbles, crossing his arms. “you’re one them, huh? those honest-to-god-drunks.”

“you shouldn’t be saying those things out loud,” advises price, knowing full well that it’s going to go unheard seeing as you’re shit-faced drunk right now.

you groan, forehead connected with the table again. “you don’t get it. you’re old- probably have the sex drive of a tumble weed.”

gaz and soap have a poor attempt at stifling a laugh and even ghost cracks a small and an unseen smirk at your comment. price doesn’t bother with a retort, knowing you’ll have your regrets when they tell you about this conversation in the morning.

soap puts an encouraging pat on your back. “aye, cmon lass, if ya wanted to get laid, all ye gotta do is ask.” it’s clearly a joke but your head perks up anyways.

“don’t tempt me, cause I’ve thought about it.”

“you don’t say…” his eyes light up with interest.

ghost interrupts with a warning tone. “don’t encourage her, Johnny.”

“too late, LT.” soap stalks around your chair, sliding his arms ‘round back. he leans in close till you pick up the scent of beer on his lips. “tell me, what d’ya think of?”

you match his lean with one of your own, eyes blown wide and curious. “are you rough in bed? tell me you’re rough in bed.”

soap smirks, flashing a charming wink. “aye, lass. why? want my handprint on your ass?” ghost flashes him a stern look but soap merely shrugs unapologetically.

you groan at his answer, “god, I hope I remember that in the morning.”

“we get it. we get it. you’re horny for soap. let’s stop before I hurl.” gaz puts his hand on your shoulders, urging you to drink more water.

“dont be jealous, gaz. you’re in there too.”

and suddenly, the angel on his shoulder disappears. “oh yeah?”

“god, you have no idea how hard it is to work with hot men all day long. takes everything in me to not just give up on the mats and let you just pin me down.”

by now, soap has his phone out, recording this for evidence when you’re inevitably going to try to walk back on your words in the morning.

“would love to be bent over a desk, don’t even care who’s behind me. or who’s the biggest? LT? probably not you then- at least not first.”

you ramble on and on… about how you could get off to the gruff sound of your captains voice alone, or how sometimes you’d be soaking wet through your panties if they praised you enough.

and it’s not until you go into an explicit and ultra-specific scenario that involves all four men, some rope, vibrators, and a blindfold, going to ultra-specific detail about soap in your pussy, price in your mouth, and how maybe you’d even let someone in your ass, does someone do the sensible thing of slapping a hand around your mouth.

“I’m gonna take my hand off’ya, and you’re gon’ be quiet, yeah?”

your eyes glance up to a stone cold stare behind a mask, meeting his gaze before you nod. “good girl.”

his hand slowly withdraws and you’re silent. it stays that was for a moment, everyone unsure how to break the tension left in the air after your revelation…that is until-

“aye, what’s that LT?”

and that, would be the stiffy that’s hardly concealed behind his jeans- perhaps he needs to buy baggier clothes from now on.

not in a mean way- he’s the sweetest and most perfect man you could ask for. He gives you “just because” flowers, he insists you never touch a door, and hell would freeze over before he lets you leave home without a kiss.

but he loves to kiss you fat tears away as he bullies his cock inside of you, his chin and lips glistening with your sweet arousal.

“I know, baby, I know, I know. Poor thing must be so sensitive.”

Upon your arrival you greeted everyone accordingly, settling into the barracks. For the rest of your first day Soap kept attempting to get to know you, but hell you were even less talkative than Lt, just nodding along or dryly responding to his questions, your face emotionless for the entire duration of the small talk.

Then, Ghost mutters a single dry comment from the corner of the room and you smirk—fucking smirk, nearly chuckle too.

After that, Soap couldn’t stop noticing the tension between you and his Lieutenant.

The lingering eye contact during briefings. The arguments that felt too personal. The way he would stand just a little too close beside you during training, gloved hand brushing your shoulder as he corrected your stance.

“You’re overcompensating,” Ghost said one afternoon behind the shooting range.

“I’m adjusting for wind.”

“You’re adjusting badly.”

You shot him a glare over your shoulder. “Funny coming from someone who missed center twice.”

Soap felt like he was interrupting something with the way the two of you stared each other down like the rest of the world had vanished.

Later that night, he cornered Ghost near the armory.

“What's going on between ya too?”

Ghost didn’t even look up from cleaning his rifle. “Nothing.”

“Oh, piss off,” Soap scoffed. “It’s bloody obvious.”

Ghost reassembled the magazine with slow, deliberate movements. “You imaginin’ things.”

“I’m telling you, Lt, every time she walks into a room, you both look ready to either kill each other or tear each other’s clothes off.”

That finally earned him a glare, “Drop it, Johnny.”

the transport home is awkward to say the least. you’re whimper, humping your seat lamely while you’ve practically soaked through your panties, cargos, and down onto the seat itself.

“eyes forward, men.” says price from the drivers seat. his calm demeanor gives nothing away if it weren’t for his sweating palms that have a death grip on the drivers wheel.

you whine- a fucking delicious and needy whine. “please…please captain…please can someone help me? please? pleasepleasepleaseplease?”

“oh lord,” mutters soap from beside you. his eyes are oddly focused on the pattern of the roof. “lord please give me the strength right now.” his fingers twitch with ache and his leg is anxiously bouncing up and down. he continues to mumble prayers- which is odd since soap isn’t known to be a religious man.

“please- please it’s so hot. need to take these off. please,” you beg, hands fumbling with the button and zipper of your cargos.

“stop it, kid. Kyle, soap, hold ‘er down.”

gaz and soap look at each other, face full of emotion- uncomfortableness, concern, arousal?

“S-sir…don’t think it’s a good idea for me to touch the lass right now.” Soap admits, taking a slow and deep breath as his eyes unwillingly stare you up and down.

Gaz steps up. Not because he’s eager to touch you, not because he needs an excuse to get his hands on you- but because he genuinely believes that if anyone can have the restraint, it would be him. “I’ve got it, sir.”

he bunches your hands together by the wrist, bringing it away from your pants that are left unzipped but still fully on.

you let out a broken sob that just breaks his heart but stiffens his dick. “Nonononono, just a little touch please? please? Hurts s’bad. Need to…just once, please?”

gaz gulps, and for a second his grip loosens on your wrist. “Garrick!”

gaz jerks, meeting the stare of his lieutenant who’s sweating at the base of his mask. “we’re almost there. keep it together.”

you squirm, crossing and uncrossing your legs in any attempt for a piece of friction that is just never enough.

the rest of the ride is painfully silent, each man thinking the same thing but none of them willing it out loud. It feels like ages when the transport is finally parked at the base and three heads turn to their captain for his decision.

You’re shaking and sweating, holding the base of the chair so tightly that your knuckles turn white. The circular sensation against your clit has been non stop and your brain is about to turn to mush because of it.

“You okay, love? You look tense.” You glare at price to which he gives you a knowing smirk. “Not too much now. I’m still your captain. Could send you to train the recruits if I wanted to.” There’s an intentional pause- as if to leave the mind to imagine. “although I doubt you’ll be able to demonstrate much in this state.”

You lift your hips off the chair in hopes to alleviate some of the friction but to no avail. A string of curses leaves your lips. “Fuck…I’m gonna cum.”

“Easy now.” Ghost chimes in. “Still in a briefing. Keep it professional, kid.”

“You could just take a guess- put an end to it.” Kyle so kindly suggests. There’s a few menacing chuckles in response. “Remember your forfeit though.”

And just like that- the sensation stops. It’s both a blessing and a curse. On one hand, you no longer have to climax in front of your team at a mission briefing, while on the other, your thighs are now rubbing against one another for any amount of friction that could just give you that relief you need.

Later in the day, Soap finds you curled up on a couch, clutching your lower abdomen and eyes just a little bit glazed over. “You look like shite.”

And you felt like it. “One of you fuckers has been edging me all day,” you mumble, pressing your legs so tightly together as if that would do you any good.

“At least you know it’s not me, you know I like to give ya what you want.”

You shoot him a glare- because Soap will let you cum. The problem is, that’s all he does. You’re climaxing at least once an hour when he has your pussy, and he’s not shy to experimenting.

He’ll grind the toy against the corner of his desk, he’ll hold it under running water, he’ll even go so far as to tie it to a vibrator as he’s sleeping just to make sure you’re left satisfied.

And the day will always end the same- soap locked inside his room while you’re banging for him with cute glistening tears, begging and sobbing for him to stop which just isn’t enough for him until you’re sitting in a puddle of your own arousal outside his door.

“C’mon, lass. Just take a guess.” He steps closer, lifting your chin with a finger. His eyes glimmer with excitement when he sees the way you’re practically looking through him and not at him. “You get it right, you get your cute cunnie back. And if you get it wrong…” he leans closer to your ear, “I’ll take ya first and you know I’m good at making ya cum.”

The offer is tempting, and you almost mutter a name in his advice but suddenly you gasp when you feel a low vibration make contact with your sore clit.

You hunch over, gripping the back of the couch. “What’s going on?” You don’t even have the strength to look up but from voice alone, you know it’s Gaz.

“Looks like someone’s having fun.”

Gaz’s eyes trace from a smug soap to a pitiful you. “What d’they got going on?”

Your voice strains as you try to speak. “V-vibe.”

Gaz nods in understanding. “Sounds like ghost or price. Me? I’m a traditional man.”

Soap snorts. “Oh, we know.”

Gaz, cursed at him, rolling his eyes with no real heat behind it. But soap was right. Gaz always talking about how he wants to meet the love of his life “naturally” and properly court her, have a romantic wedding, have two kids (one boy, one girl), basically he was traditional in every sense.

This includes in the bedroom where he doesn’t believe in the need for toys. Instead, he’ll plunge his fingers in your pussy till it’s sopping and crying, and then he’ll drink it all up with the tip of his nose pushing against the hood of you clit- all to do it over and over and over again.

The pair continue to argue but you drown out their voices as you feel that sinking feeling deep in your gut again. The vibrations are so perfectly pressed against your clit that it has you seeing stars.

It has to be price, right? The fingers from earlier were rough with experience but the movements themselves were patient and experienced. They move in perfect circles up and down your folds, playing with them like pages on a book before teasingly flicking against your clit.

Or is it ghost? It’s more likely for ghost to be using a vibrator than price. He loves his toys, has a whole fancy collection that are “just for testin’” he says. But usually ghost is a little rougher, isn’t he? So maybe it’s-

The thought is cut off when you feel a blunt, large head of a vibrator forcefully being pushed against your opening. Your eyes widen, and whoever is toying with you isn’t in the room but you instinctively scream anyways which draws the attention of both Gaz and soap. “waitwaitwaitwait- It won’t fit!”

God- fuck- it had to be him. It had to be. Oh shit, just say a name. Or is it price? No- he wouldn’t. Or? Fuck- you could literally count down the seconds as the head stretches you wider and wider and - “Ghost! Stop it!”

And just like that…it stops. And for a moment, it feels like time stops.

“Oh? Looks like we have a name.”

You’re panting for dear life, vision blurry as you curl up in the couch, oblivious to the rest of the team flooding in the room.

Price kneels by your side, placing a warm hand on your forehead and using his thumb to brush away the hair that sticks to your forehead.

Once you catch your breath, you roll over slowly. Your vision is a blur, but it gradually comes to focus and you recognize price’s look of concern with the rest of them peering over his shoulder.

“Did I get it right?”

The men pause, none of them giving it away, until you notice a twitch of Price’s mustache followed my an upward turn of a crooked smile. “Oh, fuck.”

A deep and amused laugh confirms what you already know and Soap is already taking off his belt, “I’m going first, lads.”

“Why do you go first? Price did all of the work.” Gaz retorts, finger twitching in retaliation.

“Called dibs. Didn’t I, lassie?”

Gaz lets out a sputter of disbelief. “Oi, You can’t just call dibs on something like that!”

“Her mouth is still open if you want it.” Soap is already at your legs, grabbing them by the ankles and pulling them apart.

this photo but its blue collar worker!simon and fem!reader … walk with me.

Tags !! - smut, public sex, spoiled!reader, smut

blue collar worker!simon who loves to spoil his pretty girl. loves to buy you everything you’ve ever wanted; stuff you couldn’t get in your childhood or teens years and then some. loves to give you his hand every time you get up into his lifted truck, even puts his hand on your ass to make sure your skirt doesn’t ride up. jealous man, doesn’t want anyone even getting a glimpse of your round ass. especially not in those frilly outfits you like to wear; the ones with the high socks. if it makes him strain against his jeans, he knows what its doing to men passing by.

almost likes it in a way; showing you off in public whenever he’s able to take you out to nice places. which is often. puts his whole weeks worth of paychecks into making sure you’re brought to only the nicest places. and not because YOU demanded it; you asked nothing of him.

you just deserved it. perfect girl.

his perfect, put together little lady that he like’s to ruin at the end of the day.

simon physical cannot get over the way you look spread out on his cock, tight pussy clinging to his cock so hard he could barely move. such a shy girl; can’t even take it in public after all this time.

because blue collar worker!simon riley is a sucker for public sex. especially when you’re all dolled up, and he’s still covered in grease from work. doesn’t even bother washing his hands when he gets home sometimes, just so he can fuck on you and grab at those curves— leaving hand prints.

that and just seeing the physical work on his hands against your soft, plush— and beautifully clean skin. always smelling so good of some sort of perfume or oils.

also; he fucking LOVES when he keeps his belt on, and he just knows you feel it hitting the back of your thigh with every thrust. loves when the sound of his belt buckle and keys are the only sound mixing with the echos of your bodies snapping together, black stained fingers shoving themselves into your mouth so you’d stay quiet.

wouldn’t want anyone finding you in such a humiliating situation, would you, sweet girl?