"It won't fit!!" You hiss, trying to squirm but unable to with the weight of ghosts hand pinning your hip to the bed.

"C'mon, lovie, look at it. Not that bad." Ghost coos, pressing his cock to lie against your pelvis, fhe tip practically at your belly button. Oh shit. "Bit o' work, but..."

Ghost slips his other hand down to your entrance, three fingers easily pop inside and you still know it isn't enough. Not when his cock jerks lazily and drools precum over your skin.

Some deeper part of you really wants to know what it feels like, wants to feel him in your mouth, between your hands, on your skin, inside you.

"Mh. Good choice." Ghost hums in delight when you allow your thighs to fall open that last bit, nervous but determined. He rubs his tip in circles around your entrance just to make you nervous, laughs to himself as the embarrassed whine you let out before pressing in—

"Fuckin' hell—!" Ghost groans, doubles over and only catches himself from falling on you by bracing a forearm next to your head. You can feel the huff through the fabric of his balaclava "christ— fuckin' tight—"

"Holy shit– ghost, ghost— fuck—" you toss your head back with a high keen, whole body burning from the sudden fullness. You've never used anything but your fingers before and nothing could have prepared you for this.

You grind into him as best as you can both overstimulated and still asking for more, completely lost in just how good it is—

"Fuck– you're so big—" you feel your core tighten and are unable to do anything, back arching off the bed, pulling ghost into a kiss as your orgasm crashes over you.

Only after you've caught your breath you notice ghost shaking, and slowly realize that asshole is silently laughing at you–

"Not even halfway." He snorts, presses a kiss to your jaw then sits up, still inside you, to show his still-hard cock, only a third of the way in.

You just came and ghost is only a third in.

Your station acts as an added layer of security, encrypting the route the channels take in the event they are hacked. Sure, you work with other teams but the 141 are your main group.

One...small caveat of being in charge of their comms, is that you have to actually listen to their conversations in case they request a patch to someone.

Which leads to you hearing...way more than you'd like.

Gaz: sir. Stop poking it. Soap's waitin'

Ghost: think he had health issues. Look at his femur, odd texture.

Gaz: oh shit, really? Let me see—

Followed by far too graphic descriptions of the poor blokes leg. You had to skip lunch that day. You do most days they have missions, gross fuckers act like you can't hear all the shit they say.

Meaning, of course, that you hear too damn much about their sex lives or lack thereof due to missions. It's nothing new, and given you know what they look like, it doesn't paint a bad picture.

But this time? You're shocked by the subject of conversation.

Soap: ahm tellin' you, it's been too damn long. The poor lass is crying for attention!

Gaz: why not the guy from IT? He's eager enough.

Soap: no. Not really feeling that right now. Actually, you know who sounds nice?

There's that characteristic smirk in soaps voice you've long since learned to identify. You absently hear ghost prompt him to continue, wondering how the hell price tunes them out so well—

Soap: our waypoint.

You choke, splutter. Your own coughing making it impossible to hear gaz and ghosts reactions, but when you tune back in soap is viciously defending himself

Soap: no, no! Listen! Have you heard that voice?? Christ, just that and I could get a better wank than I've had all month! C'mon, ghost, I know you agree—

Ghost: you know they can hear you right now, johnny? Got anything to say?

Gaz: *chuckles* besides asking to get his dick wet? Maybe beg for a moan or something?

....silence

Soap: ....hey waypoint? You there?"

You shouldn't. Christ you shouldn't respond.

All comms are recorded, and waypoints should only talk when absolutely necessary but— but the 141 comms are wiped every 24 hours and...

You lean close to your mic, voice weaker than you'd like.

You spend so long in that little cave, tucked into the shadowy corner whenever the big mer swam by. He was just so big! And spiky in places you aren't, and all the wrong colors!

After awhile he leaves you alone, instead swimming laps in the giant pool, chirping...something. you still don't understand him. It was easy to calm down in your cave, knowing he couldn't fit. It was harder to ignore your growing hunger.

You don't know how you'll get food, it's too scary to swim up and do the tricks! Just the thought of doing your usual splashing and flying from the water with the big mer around....no. best not to.

So you hunker down, tuck your tail over your arms and open you vents for the long night. It's not the first time you'll go without food but it never gets easier.

Something thunks outside your cave entrance, startling you out of your half-sleep.

A....crab? It's definitely a crab! Oh, wow! You didn't know there were any in the pool! Excited, you swim out to say hi. chest brushing the rock so you can be eye level, you chirp "hai!!! Helloooo!!! Hi!!"

The crab doesn't move. Hrm. Strange. You bat at it, churring in curiosity when it simply floats away a bit, still not moving. You paw at it, inspecting it, worried it might be sick and—

A loud rumble above you— the mer! You go to dart back into your cave only to realize it's so far away. He rumbles more, reaching a giant hand down to pluck the crab from its place, and instead place food down!

Ah. He must be helping the crab out.

You eat the food, making sure to save some for the big mer because even if he's scary he's helping the crab so you suppose he should eat too. He brings more and more, and you eat your fill for the first time in...a long time.

Reader who’s been atleast 4 of your closest friends maids of honor and you’re just so sure it’s not in the cards for you.

Literally, you’ve gotten tarot readings that keep telling you to “wait” and “it’s coming soon” but soon has already came and went and you’re still nothing but the background character in your own love life. There are the few guys who circle you but your just a good friend to hang out with, to have a good laugh with or when a man needs a nice and quick fuck.

How could the helpless romantic be romantic-less?

And you’re a maid of honor at another wedding- your sisters, clipboard in hand, giving out direction, making sure the family that shouldn’tve been invited anyway is far away from the bride, making sure the bridessmen aren’t drinking too much, with that giddy smile is still you, curls bouncing with every step while walking around like a chicken with its head cut off— you finally get a break. Tapping your fingers on the bar tabletop, and setting your check marked and note filled clipboard down.

You’re mid sip of your margarita when you hear that low voice next to you, “You’re pretty good at oll’ this, yeah?”

Your eyes widen in shock, coughing on your drink as you take in this big masked man beside you. Decked out in all black, You give him a nervous laugh, “I think so.”

There’s a moment of awkward silence, ice in his glass sweating, “Do y’ like oll’ this then?”

You shrug, “Sure! It’s not too much since theres a wedding planner-“

“—No, y’like playin assistant for them ‘nd not yourself. Not your first merry go round, is it?”

You blinked eyes furrowing, “How do you-“

“—Mary is my cousin.” He clarifies, naming your close friend whose wedding was less than six months ago, “Deena-“ he points over to your sister’s future wife, “she’s my co-worker.”

You bite the inside of your lip, nodding in understanding, but it all makes you feel smaller. How long are you gonna keep doing this? Working your ass off and no benefit—

“Well I-I’d want them t’ do this for me.” And it comes out meek, sillily so. You’re clutching onto the bar for strength. And this stranger watches you, the way your lips purse out, rocking on your heals, curls falling in your face.

“Well would you like t’ try it?” He asks, setting his glass down and turning to face you finally. He’s handsome, you can tell. Unconventional to some, scar on his hairline, another from his cheek to his ear. Blonde hair styled messily. You’re intrigued.

“Try what?”

“What it’d be like, t’be a bride.”

You shaking your head, chuffing out a laugh, “That’s silly.”

“Is it?” He leans back in the bar stool, arms folding over his chest, his knee brushes against yours, “Wouldn’t be so bad t’be center of attention f’once. I’d be- whot do they call it- shit- manifesting what you want.”

You swore he was just another guy, just letting you hear talk you’ve been itching to hear. That he’s a complete stranger, and you could be putting your life at risk. Or trying to scam you—

“You’d really think it’d come true if I tried?”

In theres such sincerity in his eyes, a gleam so warm in this whiskey brown that runs right through you, fingers brushing against yours, “Promise swee’art. Won’t waist y’time.”

How could you say no to that?

vs

Imagine sharing a wall with ghost now that you practically live on base, walls too thin to really keep any privacy, right?

You hear everything that happens in ghosts room, and sometimes you can even hear when he's watching a nature documentary at three in the morning.

"Fuckin' hell..." it also means you can hear him pleasure himself.

You know that ghost has a fleshlight of some sort he uses, and christ you can't help but imagine what it he looks like using it. Wet squelches and grunts travel across your wall, accompanied by the occasional "yeah, there you go, love. Jus' like that–" when he gets really into the fantasy.

You've seen ghosts cock before, impossible not to when you work with him so often.

Thick, physically heavy with the way it hangs between his legs even soft. There's the faintest thatch of dirty blonde hair, cute when paired with his loose foreskin. A nice rosyness—

"Fuckkkk!! Yeah, yes—" ghost grunts, and you imagine his back arching off the bed with the sheer pleasure in his voice. What you wouldn't give to see him all flushed and desperate. "Mghhh–! Ahhh–!!"

Ah, a quick one today. The thought makes you flush, both embarrassed and oddly proud that you know exactly how ghosts day has been based off the sounds of his jerking off.

You settle in to hear him clean up and....oh? No sound of drawers sliding open, or water running in his bathroom, or...anything. a quick zipper, the latch of his door.

...no lock.

Ghosts fleshlight....freshly used...sitting in his unlocked room.

You shouldn't. It's an invasion of privacy. Its fucking perverted. Its disgusting and will certainly get you killed if anyone finds out.

ough

Johnny wiggling his finger into your cunt beside his cock, crooking it just enough to give you some extra stimulation. it's fun and it feels good and you're cock drunk enough that you don't care what he's doing as long as he keeps doing it. then he adds another finger, and another and it pinches a bit, the stretch starting to burn alongside your confusion. what the fuck it he doing? but every time you try to get the words out he's pinching your clit and kissing at your neck, making you just a little looser, a little more pliant for him until finally he feels like he has a chance at doing what he wants

he pulls out enough to wrap his fingers around his cock, reaching lower to grip his balls, tugging the loose skin up to press against the underside of his dick. he keeps them tight there and then presses in again.

it's a tight fit, and you huff and fight him on it the whole way. you don't understand, poor thing, but he's dizzy with the thought. maybe he can't knot you properly but this is the next best thing right? you'll like it once he gets them in, you'll drool and moan like the omegas in those naughty little stories he's caught you reading.

That sundress does nothing to hide your frame, the swell of your breasts peeking out the top of the dress, a pretty necklace hanging in your cleavage, his cock chubs up nicely in his work pants, wishing he could just bend you over and take you in the middle of the street. He'll settle for just this for now.

30 minutes later Emily drags you to Simon to introduce you as "the pretty lady from next door" and you awe at her before sticking your hand out for a handshake towards the big brute.

He extends his thick calloused hand and shakes it firmly, feeling how soft your hand is, he feels no ring... good. He'll change that soon.

You end up talking for a while exchanging numbers before heading off to wherever you were going before.

cw: 18+ mdni, nsfw.

And how he’d make naive!reader sit in his lap when he notices and older woman standing in subway isle.

“Thank you, both of you.” The older woman giggles as she takes the empty seat.

“‘S no problem ma’am.” Simon nods, wrapping his arms around your waist and resting his chin on your shoulder. “She’s so cute isnt she love?”

You can’t even focus, his hardened erection pressing into your ass, in those jeans that Simon loves so much. Couldnt stop staring at the way your thighs spread as you sat down, every curve on you, that charm you have in your brown eyes. You wiggle in his lap but he only presses you down harder, he tsks in your ear, “Don’t move baby, or everyone ‘ere will see just what you do t’me.”

You feel him grow with every shake of the train against you, only smirking as he sees the way you can’t look anyone near you in the eye, heat rising under your skin with that slightly tense look on your face. You try your best to give a smile and wave to the old woman but Simons hands roll down your skin, down your your thighs that makes chills run down your spine, “Bloody hell, can’t wait t’ get off of ‘ere, fuck you right against the wall in the alley across the street from our stop, you’d like that wouldn’t you?”

Your lips purse out, breath hitching, “Simon!”

“ ‘F Course you would doll,” he draws out, calloused hands going to your hips, giving them a nice squeeze, humping up into you, “Or should I have you keep keep my cock warm right here, sliding it in your hole so eeeeveryone can see that pretty face you only make with me-“

You can’t help the little mewl you let out, his covered manhood pressing against your cunt, “Simon-“

“—I know, I know swee’art,” he coos, kissing your cheek, “Won’t do tha’ to ya.”

The subway rattles again and you bite the inside of your lips, nervous eyes flickering down into the mahogany brown eyes staring back at you. Glint shimmering in them.

“Not here, anyway.”

Simon lets his hand caress the apple of your cheeks from behind, squeeze them together that makes him chuckle, “Would you let me take you to the bathroom though? Hm love?”

You play with your fingers, checking the time on your phone, before muttering so quietly, “For j-just a little bit, I don’t wanna miss my show tonight.”

And the older man underneath you groans happily, eyes crinkling, rubbing his hand up and down your back, you’ve made the man go red in the face, “M just jokin baby, god, you’re so fuckin loveable.”

a/n: I hope you’re hungry— for nothing.

ghoap/female reader - omegaverse au

Farmhand!ghost who works with you most days. Works hard, too. He doesn't complain one bit about the labor your dad has him do, communicating solely in grunts and single words while he works up a sweat. He's not exactly welcoming company, but he's easy on the eyes and with the way he works you both can afford a longer break in the afternoon heat.

Farmhand!ghost who soaks up everything you say to him silently, or you hope he does. Your father doesn't hire many men, and most of them are either eager to get back home to their family or too wary of your last name to let any bond form. But ghost, the stranger who insists on wearing a silly bandana over his face, he gets close. Sometimes you'd even consider him a friend.

Farmhand!ghost who's got you bent over the hay bails in the barn your dad owns, pants shucked down to your knees and a thick cock pressing into you. That bandana now held firm against your mouth, just in case anyone walks by, ghosts scent and sweat soaked into the fabric. At least he had the decency to put his jacket over the hay before defiling you in a way none of the other farmhands were brave enough to.