#bottom cod men

Your captain who just adores to bury his face into you, no matter when or where.

On a mission? He'll nuzzle into your shoulder in the truck or helicopter between locations. He's not even fussed when the others wolf-whistle or take pictures, just hums and gives them the middle finger.

In the mornings? You'll wake up with him snuggled by your side: as close to you as physically possible, fast asleep with his beard tickling your bare skin. You run a hand through his tussled hair, watching his pretty eyes flutter open as he murmurs a tired "mornin', my boy," and wraps his arms tighter around you.

You need to fix something high up? He'll come up to you with a soft smile, then burrow his face into your thigh, one hand on your lower back to make sure you don't fall off the chair or desk you're precariously standing on.

ohmygod YES okayy

amab masc!reader x bot!ghost

You've lost count of how many times you've finished inside Simon at this point, but you both know it's a lot. His legs are shaking but still clinging on to where he's wrapped them around your waist, cock leaking against his stomach as he claws at your back, craning his neck to bury his head in your shoulder whilst he sobs. You're buried deep in him, not moving and it's driving him up the wall, tears streaming down his flushed cheeks as he tries desperately to get your attention.

"Please, move, love, please," he keeps whispering, nipping and kissing at your neck but you just won't keep fucking him, instead teasing him relentlessly as he whimpers.

And you've got this stupid grin on your face as you murmur about how "big, scary Ghostie, begging and crying just for me, yeah?" He nods, mumbled begs falling from his damp lips, brown eyes gazing desperately into yours as his head falls back against the pillow again, pulling your face down to kiss him.

Whispered praise and pleas escape him, whines of "you're doin' so good, so so good, please move, please," in between him trying to shove his tongue down your throat as if he's attempting to inhale you.

"My gorgeous boy, looking so pretty right here," you murmur, finally starting to rock your hips back and forth again, making him groan loudly, back arching as he clings onto you.

"Faster, faster, sir, please." You kiss him again, biting at his lower lip to make him whine when you speed up. "Gonna cum again, please, please-" he's cut off by his own moans as his load spurts out over his abdomen, new tears of overstimulation falling as you quicken your pace.

"Didn't even touch you," you chuckle, kissing his cheek softly. "You want to stop, or are you gonna let me cum too, princess?" Simon grabs at your face, shaking hands desperately trying to pull your lips to his.

It took years for Simon to trust you enough for this. It was a slow process, neither of you rushing, instead taking your time with your relationship: building it up over time, his and your confidence gradually raising with each new thing - small kisses, hugs; then eventually occasionally making out, regular cuddles.

But this? You'd thought about it, sure - but you couldn't quite believe it was actually happening until your lips were on his in your bedroom, hands delicately on his waist as if terrified he would break. Cautiously slipping under his shirt, pulling it over his head slowly to give him time to yank it right back on again if he needed. Eyes open, watching him slump back against the wall as his gaze follows you dumping his shirt on a nearby chair, then taking off your own and chucking it on top. His balaclava crumpled on the floor next to it.

"This alright, love?" you check. One hand moving to cup his cheek, the other hovering in mid air - unsure what to do. Ghost doesn't respond. His eyes are fixed on the carpet; scared. "You wanna stop, Si?" You shove your hands in your pockets.

His head snaps up, stare suddenly on you, laced with curiosity and still, slightly hidden away, fear. "No." His voice is blunt yet whispered, and he tilts his head slightly, "do you? We- we can, if y' want."

Your heart beats in your chest, trying to read his face. You shake your head. "Need you to be comfy, sweetheart," you insist, tentatively moving your arms to wrap around his waist, studying his reaction, "tell me what to do."

He hesitates, leaning into you, chest to chest as he lays his head on your warm, bare shoulder. Your fingers run absentmindedly up and down his back, tracing various scars like you have a million times before. His lips press to your neck, pausing a second more. Simon kisses your flesh, open mouthed and nipping a little, hands in your hair as he leaves a trail of marks up to your jaw, where you turn your head to capture his lips with your own.

"Gonna show me instead, pretty boy?" you murmur against his mouth, and he chuckles quietly; genuine, soft laughter for only your ears to hear. He brings you both together again, tongues in each other's mouths as you stumble towards the bed, clumsily sitting down on it with him straddling you.

Your hands drift to hold his belt, fingers skimming his body so he knows they're there; he breaks away for a bit to look down at you undoing it and his trousers, lifting himself up onto his knees so you can attempt to shimmy them down his hips.

"Stand up, love," you instruct gently, and he does, allowing you to take off his trousers and throw them on the chair - then doing the same with your own again. You'd seen each other in only boxers before, to change or go to bed, but this was different; of course it was.

"You're hard," he comments as if it's normal conversation. Taken slightly aback, you look down at yourself through the fabric then glance over at him.

"So are you," you grin, sitting back down on the bed, "want me to help with tha-"

"Yes."

Simon steps over to you, leaning down to kiss you again - slightly desperately, you note - and tugs a little at your hair. You hold his thighs, breaking away from his face to press small, loving kisses to his stomach and hips, your lips against the soft fabric of his boxers as you kiss his thighs. He doesn't make a sound other than slightly heavy breathing, but his hands massage your head, holding you close to him as if you're the sun on a cold, dark day.

You run a thumb between his skin and the waistline of his boxers, looking up at him. "Can I?" Waiting til he nods, then taking them off; noticing how he doesn't look down as he crawls properly onto the bed.

"Yours," he whispers simply, gesturing with a glance. You nod once, taking yours off too, shuffling to sit nearer to him, a hand on his chest as you lean in, kissing him deeply.

"Gonna prep you, okay?" you kiss his cheek, reaching for the lube on the side table and putting some on two fingers. "One at a time, and you say if I'm going too fast or anything, yeah?"

He lies down a little, tentatively spreading his legs; your heart skipping a beat realising how how vulnerable he feels right now. You open your mouth to reassure him, but he shuts you up by taking your clean hand in his own and giving it a light squeeze. "Ready," he murmurs, face turning red as you gradually push a finger into his hole.

"Relax, Simon," you coax, your index halfway in him as he holds your hand a little too tight for you to know he's comfortable. "You're okay, baby, promise."

Ghost cracks open one eye, staring at you. Relaxing - just a tiny, tiny amount. His voice is husky and shy. "Hurts."

"It'll feel better in just a minute, sweetheart." Reassure him. Kiss the scar on his ribs. Wait until he calms down then ever so gently pushing the finger in all the way; thumb stroking his knuckles when he groans quietly.

You're endlessly patient, letting him take as long as he needs to to adjust before topping up the lube on a second finger and carefully easing it in, pressing delicate kisses to his jaw and muttering praises in his ear; "doing so well, baby. Won't go faster than you want me to, love."

He rewards your care with half-held back moans and grunts, eyes opening every few moments just to check it's still you, hips bucking a little when he's ready for a third finger. And you give it to him, hesitating when he lets out one small sob; but then he whines a quiet "please," free hand nudging your arm to let you know it's alright.

Working gently to scissor him more than loose enough, terrified at the idea of hurting him, reassuring him it's okay when he asks if he can touch himself using as few words as possible. Easing him onto his side when he's prepped properly, facing each other cuz you know he'd hate any other position.

You put lube onto your cock; he watches, cuddling his head into your shoulder and his hands now tracing patterns onto the skin of your chest. You kiss his cheek, forming eye contact.

"Are you sure you want this?" You check, making sure he actually thinks for a moment before nodding. Your lips connect with his and you pull your hips together, groaning as he uses his own hand to put your dick into him. Giving him time to adjust before he's kissing your neck impatiently, big arms tenderly wrapped around you and little whimpers leaving his mouth that he needs you to move.

Rocking your hips into him, mixed moans filling the room, making sure to comfort and praise him and remind him to take care of himself as well. When he does, he's quick to cum all over yours and his stomachs, whining and pulling your bodies even closer.

"You want me to pull out when I cum, Si?" you ask, not stopping as you tilt his chin up to face you. He nods, smiling softly at being given the option. You slide out of him, kissing away his half-hearted complaints until you groan and thick white ropes of cum spurt from your cock, mixing with his on both your bodies, leaving the two of you panting and holding each other, sharing kisses every few seconds.

After several moments of just lying there, Simon grumbles and shifts uncomfortably. "'M all sweaty," he huffs, nuzzling his face into your chest even so. You run a hand through his hair, thinking. He pipes up again. "M' legs all shaky." You smirk knowingly.

"Want me to carry y-" he cuts you off with an eager nod. Cheeky bastard didn't even let you finish the sentence. Nevertheless, you haul his large frame into your (thankfully) strong arms, taking him into the bathroom and setting him down on the edge of the tub. "Bath?" He shrinks into himself a little at the exposure, but hums in agreement. Still vulnerable. Still scared.

You turn on the taps, getting the right temperature before sitting on the bathmat on the floor. Si slides down to curl up in your lap, clinging to you and scattering kisses along your jaw. When the bath is full enough, you let him get in after you. Keep him feeling secure. You hold his hand to steady him as he steps into the water and lays down. Cradle him in your arms, palming water through his hair and washing the half-dried cum off both your bodies.

thinking about biting captain mactavish as if i'm a fuckin cat

Biting him as I kiss his neck and his collarbones, nibbling the skin of his throat, my hands in his hair and on his face and tugging his shirt over his head.

Kissing down his torso and biting his chest, nuzzling my nose against it affectionately then nipping at it just enough for him to gasp out in anticipation.

Resting my head on his inner thigh and looking up at him adoringly, breathing soft as he absentmindedly runs a hand through my hair, sitting up properly so I can see the bite marks I've left on him.

Pressing my lips to his stomach, closing my eyes and the corners of my mouth twitching upwards when I gently dig my teeth into his flesh again, his grip on my hair tightening as he sucks in a breath.

Price who tells the K-9s off for sitting on the sofas and chairs, and you who teases Rottweiler!hybrid!Soap by also telling him off when he sits on the sofas and chairs.

And he knows it's bullshit because he's seen you pull Riley (and all the other dogs) up onto the sofa to sit with you when Price isn't there, but he still isn't really sure how to react whenever you tell him "Soap, off."

The first time you did it, he sort of just stared at you blankly, with Gaz and Ghost wheezing with laughter over to the side. Price's grin was immaculate as he turned to Soap and said "off," joining the other two's wheezing when he actually slinked to the floor.

But then you start doing it far too often for his liking, and he finally snaps back whilst you're both staying the night in a safe house, along with Price. You tell him "Soap, off," when he curls up on a bed, and he glances at Price, then stares you straight in the eye, scowling as he stands up.

"Guess you'll have to fuck me on the floor, then."

Fucking Gaz real hard cuz he was just that liiittle bit too cocky today. One too many cheeky retorts and you're calling him into your office only to pin him against the wall, hands slipping under his shirt as you capture his lips in messy kisses, pulling his top off him and quickly working on his belt, throwing them both to the floor.

"Shut up real quick when I kiss you, huh, love?" you taunt, kneeling to take off his trousers. He goes to argue but you use a firm hand to push his hips back against the wall, making him grunt in surprise. Standing up, you grab his chin, making him look at you with almost curious eyes. He balls up the fabric of your own shirt in his fists, tugging on it as he leans up to kiss you again.

Feeling generous, you let him undress you until you're both in just your boxers, a hand in his hair the whole time to guide his greedy lips away from your hard cock when he finally slides off your underwear. He rests his chin against your thigh, opening his mouth to speak before closing it dumbly, simply gazing up at you pleadingly.

"Not today, sweetheart. C'm'ere," you murmur, bending to pick him up and hold him against the wall again. His legs wrapping around your hips almost instinctively, arms slung over your shoulders, lips chasing yours. Your tongue slides into his mouth as you carry him to your desk, placing him down and pulling his boxers down to his ankles. Gaz kicks them off, smirking as you pull a small bottle of lube from your desk drawer.

"Just for me?" he quips, the mischievous glint in his eye returning when you go to put some on your fingers. You pause. Glare at him. Wordlessly change your mind, watching the way his face falls a little when you lube up your cock instead.

Pulling him off the desk and bending him over it, muffling his noise of surprise with a hand. Pushing your cock into him, feeling him moan against the hand over his mouth, pressing a small kiss to his back as you start to move your hips.

Your other hand wraps around his own dick, pumping quickly til he cums, crying out; scolding him for getting his mess on your office floor and desk. He lays his cheek against the surface, trying to look back at you as you fuck into him.

Price whose blush covers his entire face when he's flustered. And you fucking love it.

Walking up to him and leaning over to murmur in his ear, telling him exactly what you're gonna do to him later; grinning as his eyes widen a little. Him pulling his hat down over his face to hide how red it's gotten with there being other people in the room.

Kissing him in front of everyone when one of you returns safe from a mission, your arms wrapping around his shoulders to hold him. Pulling back to see his flush, laughing fondly when he buries his head in the crook of your neck, shade deepening.

Going into his office at random points in the day, checking he's alone before climbing onto his desk chair to sit on his lap facing him; watching how flustered he gets when he pulls your hips closer to his. Sometimes you'll just sit there, happy to let him continue his work with one hand on the small of your back. But other times you're feeling more needy - desperate to see him so ardent. So you'll start to kiss and suck at his neck, eyes open as you nip the skin softly, gazing up at how your captain quickly turns crimson just from you.

You just adore it when the two of you are in his room, your calloused hands holding his waist and his arms slung around your neck, strong biceps resting on your shoulders. Both your shirts discarded on the floor, your bare chests pressing together as you messily make out, stumbling around in a blind search for the bed. His skin is pink, reaching all across his face and down his neck, and your eyes crack open every so often to admire it.