and those were the last words john uttered before slamming the palm of his hand down against his desk and leaving. spoken the way most things he says are - gruff and final, with no room for argument - stunning the room into silence until the door shut hard behind him.
everyone just looked at each other, dumbstruck.
“should we wait for him to come back?”
“what the hell does that mean—”
“is that code for something?”
“wait, he’s married?”
price didn’t hear a word of it - by that point he was already halfway down the hall, boots pounding concrete with purpose, fluorescent lights buzzing overhead, everything else dissolving into white-hot static behind his eyes.
he can take a lot of bullshit. does it daily. but fuckin’ hell - they wouldn’t stop. wouldn’t stop talking, hovering, circling him like crows. clipping questions at him in endless fucking rotations.
what now, captain? what’s next? what do we do about makarov? do we move now or wait for shepherd’s greenlight? have you seen the updated file? should we pull soap and gaz back? do we burn the safe house? double-tap the asset? what’s the protocol—
jesus fuckin’ christ.
it’d been too long. john’s mentally checked out and he knows it. doesn’t care. he didn’t want to be in that room. didn’t want to sit at that table. didn’t want to give another goddamn order with five pairs of bloodshot eyes looking at him like he’s meant to have all the answers and none of the doubt.
he needs a break. not a debrief. not another satellite feed. not another fucking decision.
he needs to go home and fuck his wife.
needs to put his hands on something solid, something that he doesn’t have to second guess. something that’d let him burn off all the static and pressure and noise building between his temples without asking anything much in return. his sanctuary where he can fall apart and come back clearer. reset his head before it spun off his shoulders.
so he peeled out of the parking lot before he’d even properly put the car in drive, and sent you one text:
‘take off anything you value and put away anything breakable. i’ll be home in 15.’
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18+, simon ghost riley filthy thoughts because i can
simon's obsession with your cunt is the filthiest secret he keeps, the one that makes his hands shake when he thinks about it in the middle of briefings.
he can't fucking help it. ever since that first time - your naked body spread out on his bed, begging for his touch - has been completely, utterly hooked. addicted. he can't get enough of the way your pussy feels clenching around his fingers, his cock. the way you taste when he buries his face between your thighs, the sweet musky smell that drives him insane. especially how you look when you're turned on, swollen and glistening for him.
it's gotten bad. really fucking bad. he'll spend hours just playing with you, watching your face as he works you up, sees the pleasure build until you're writhing and moaning his name. loves feeling your slick coating his fingers, how fucking wet you get for him. and god, when you squirt - when you soak his face and hand because he finally pushed you over the edge - that's his favorite part. that's when he feels like he's won something.
he's even started recording it. little videos of you coming apart on his fingers, your pretty pussy spasming as you cry out his name. watches them when he's away on missions, craving you like the worst kind of addiction. it's the only thing that gets him through those long, lonely nights, knowing he'll be home soon to bury his face between your legs again.
on longer ops, he's gotten even more depraved. he steals your panties before he leaves. tucks them into his pocket, pressing them to his nose when he strokes himself. loves that faint scent of you, a desperate reminder of home, of your body waiting for him.
johnny and gaz have no fucking clue. none of the task force knows that their stoic, professional lieutenant is completely pussy-whipped. they'd never believe it if they found out. but simon doesn't care. as long as he gets to keep indulging in his favorite pastime, he'll keep his shameful little secret to himself.
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.
4 orgasms later you finally feel both of them slip out. God you need a change and a gun. Maybe to murder them, maybe to point it at them while riding them till they whine. You'll never know until they show up. You're just glad Price or Gaz haven't had a turn... they've got more stamina.
simon was not the type to enjoy moving house. as much as he were used to moving away for long times from long deployments, simon hated it. he hated how moving required picking up what life he'd established, even if it were small. he didn't understand how people could pack their lives up and ship across the country just like that. and plus, being deployed was different. a home was somewhere he could stay in peace, away from the gunfire.
but even he, too, needed a move here and there. wasn't really a must, but he wanted to downsize—he needed something a little smaller than what he had. it's not like he spent all his time there anyways—he was usually on base, and taking care of a bigger apartment was asking too much.
so he packed up, moved a few blocks away, holed up in a little apartment building. the day he moved in, carrying just a few boxes (he didn't have much to begin with), he couldn't help but notice the person right beside his door.
cute. you were wide-eyed and cute. stared at him across the hallway before sheepishly asking him if he minded moving out of your way so you could get to your apartment. lo and behold, you opened the door beside his and slipped in.
simon didn't give it much thought, to be honest. didn't really care how cute you were. he wasn't the type to want anyone, let alone a sweet little bunny. he doubted you could defend yourself if you joined a fistfight with a gun—he needed someone who could protect themselves while he was gone on long deployments.
but you thought differently. walked past his apartment extra times a day, hoping you'd catch him on the way out so you could get a better look at his biceps, or the scar on his cheek, dragging down to his lip. the bear was handsome as hell.
you lengthened your grocery lists, made sure the bags were a tiny bit too heavy, just in case you might see him in the parking lot and ask him for help.
you knocked on his door in the afternoon, shyly looking up at him with those big doe eyes, biting your lip and asking him, "um, sir, do you mind helping? my sink is leaking... and i just don't want to... bother anyone else."
simon had been pissed, the first time he had met you. he always heard some kind of excited prattling from through the thin walls, as you excitedly rambled to a friend. you just talked, and talked, and talked—simon's ears were going to fall off, subject to your loud conversations through the walls.
so maybe, if it shut you up, he'd entertain your silly little requests.
so here he was, under your sink, on his back, his shirt under his head as he'd taken it off.
(you'd increased the AC in your room, hoping he'd take his shirt off. sneaky little thing.)
you sat on the counter, uncaring about what he was saying about your sink. he kept talking and talking about the mechanics of it so you could fix it for yourself next time, but you were hooked on the slight rasp of his voice and the way his abs flexed as he tightened your pipes.
then simon was done, and you grabbed his arm as he sat up. you didn't want him to leave, not so soon."sir? can i pay you? um... don't have much money on me to give you, but i could give you something else."
and fuck him, you were so needy. felt your hand on his arm tighten every time he moved as if to leave. simon knew he was falling straight into a trap, and if he was being honest, he's not sure he minded. he sighs, the crease between his brows deepening. "'yer alright, luv. ain't gonna ask y'for anythin'."
you pouted. like a sad, kicked bunny. pouted at him with wide eyes and flattened ears, tail twitching unhappily. "please? stay a bit, let me... um. i can make you something to eat. cookies? i make really good cookies."
simon was really good at dodging negotiation tactics. really good at surviving the harshest forms of torture. but he hadn't been trained to dodge the torture suddenly straining in his pants as he took you in, pretty pink frills on your skirt, your thighs which dissapeared under the fabric. so he stayed, sat there whilst you busied about the kitchen, whipping together some cookies.
when they were done, you presented them to him, real giddy, jumping on your heels. "here, try one."
before he could reach for one, you sat yourself in his lap, right on top of him, offering the cookie to his lips. simon grunts, his hand instinctively moving to grip your hip. "watch y'rself, luv. don' wanna start somethin' you ain't gonna finish."
shame, that you were so confident, really. maybe then you wouldn't have ended up grinding on his lap like a bitch in heat. maybe then he wouldn't have bent you right over the counter, pushing your pretty skirt up to leer at the sopping wet patch of underwear over your cunt. "mh, she's real pretty, eh, luv?"
you were so confident up until you came on his fingers. simon didn't even give you a second to think, his fingers pressing deeper, squishing against your gummy walls. "c'mere, darlin', jus' wanna have some more."
you were losing your mind, hands gripping against the table, cheek mushed to the wood, your ears barely registered the thumping of the chair's legs every time he forced his fingers back into you. then it stops, and before you can whine, the sound of his fly unzipping reaches your ears.
in one smooth stroke of his cock, the rest of your confidence dissipated. the stretch burned, like he was splitting you in half, god, he was too fucking big. "s-sir, sir, it's too big..."
"hush, take it. y'asked for this, bun," he grunts, practically folding you over, his hips forcing against yours, his hand on your jaw. his thumb rubs over the corner of your mouth, swiping up the drool that slips from your mouth.
poor thing. you shouldn't have poked the bear, but you just couldn't help it, could you? craved the way his cock filled you up so good. he was going to ruin you for everyone else.
"ah, m'gonna fill you right up," he grunts out into your ear, heavy breaths puffing against your skin.
"ah, fuck... yes, please. please, sir, want you..." you're cut off by a desperate moan as he thrusts into you heavily, his bodyweight pressing against you. the chain around his neck, dog tags, press into the skin on your back, branding against your skin, leaving a little red mark, pressing his name into you.
when he comes inside you, he huffs, rubbing your clit gently as he pulls out, softening cock resting against your thigh. "good fuckin' girl."
(you may just have to poke the bear a little bit more.)
Pt. 2 to this.
Careful what you wish for.
TF141 x reader
+18 mdni
TW: Heavy smut warning !!!!
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Honestly, you didn’t know what had completely possessed you to suggest such a thing. Maybe it was the crushing lack of sleep, or perhaps the raw adrenaline of finally making it back to the safe house alive. But before you even realized the gravity of what you were doing, you were standing entirely bare in front of four hardened men whose intense stares burned into your skin with a nasty, unyielding need.
A volatile mix of too much testosterone and months of touch deprivation had completely sealed your fate. You knew exactly what they had in store for you.
With a slow, deliberate movement, you freed your hair from the towel, allowing the damp, dark strands to cascade down your bare shoulders. You watched with a smug satisfaction as the four of them stood entirely frozen, practically vibrating with tension as they waited to see who would dare make the first move.
Deciding to set the pace, you sauntered over to Gaz. His eyes were darting frantically between your bare breasts and the floor—a nervous little lamb caught in a trap. You stepped directly into his space and wrapped your hand firmly around his clothed erection.
A sharp, ragged groan tore from his throat the second you palmed the thick length of him through the fabric. A wicked smirk caught the edge of your lips as you watched him completely crumble from the faintest touch.
“Aww, I think little Gazzy boy is enjoying this, hmm?” you teased in a low, mocking tone. The taller man’s face scrunched up with pure pleasure, his hips instinctively bucking a fraction of an inch into your palm.
The other three just stood there, completely entranced as they watched you handle their teammate through his tight cargos. Almost in unison, their hands instinctively dropped to their own fronts, desperately trying to relieve the uncomfortable, suffocating tightness in their pants.
Before Gaz could pull away, you smashed your lips into his. A soft moan escaped your throat as his tongue immediately fought yours for dominance, tasting of raw hunger and desperation.
The dingy room only offered an old, weathered mattress resting flat on the floor, but it was more than enough for what you had planned for your boys.
“Strip,” you commanded, pulling back from the kiss just enough to look Gaz in the eye.
Without a single second thought, he scrambled to tear off his heavy tactical layers. You turned your attention to the remaining three, who were already standing there with their dicks practically in their hands, and gave them a sharp, commanding gesture to do the exact same.
As the clothes began to fly, you caught Simon about to pull his balaclava over his head. You stepped in immediately, your hand arresting his movement.
“Ah, ah, big boy. I want you to keep that on. Can you do that for me?” you murmured. You pulled the dark fabric back down into place, locking your gaze onto his wide, dark eyes before leaning down to press a slow, deliberate line of kisses down his heavily scarred chest.
Ghost could only nod eagerly, his massive frame shivering as he stood there, wanting nothing more than to completely lose himself in your touch.
As you continued to trail sloppy, hot kisses down Ghost’s chest, a strong pair of hands suddenly locked onto your hips from behind.
“Are you sure about this, Sergeant?” Price’s deep, raspy voice rumbled directly into your ear. His hot breath tickled your skin as you tilted your head to the right, leaning into his touch. “Because once we start, there won’t be any backing out. Not after you let us in.”
“I think I know what I’m doing, Captain,” you cockily retorted, though the sudden friction of his thick cock rubbing right against your bare ass sent a violent shiver straight down your spine.
Price didn't hesitate. His heavy hands traveled up from your hips to the swell of your breasts, his thumbs ruthlessly pinching your hyper-sensitive nipples. Your back arched instantly from the pleasure of it, which only served to push your aching body closer into Simon’s space. Ghost took full advantage, his thick fingers slipping down between your thighs to tease your soaking folds, extracting a breathless string of moans from your lips.
“Aye, don’t you two go having all the fun here,” a gruff Scottish accent cut through the dark room. Soap stood just a few feet away, his eyes wild as he stroked himself, completely transfixed by the sight of you already coming apart under your superiors' touch.
“Easy, MacTavish,” Simon growled darkly, his fingers still rhythmically playing with your slick, needy entrance. “Why don’t you and Gaz break her in for us?”
He looked down at you through the eyeholes of his mask, a dangerous glint in his stare. “She’s going to need all the preparation she can get.”
Ghost chuckled darkly, finally pulling his hand away and stepping back to let his two sergeants have their way with you. The pure gravity of his remark stirred an unsettling, intoxicating wave of excitement deep in your stomach. Before you could even process it, Price let out a low laugh and delivered a harsh, echoing smack to your bare ass, causing your entire body to jolt forward.
You didn't even have time to register the shifting movement in the room before Johnny’s hungry hands locked onto your waist, lifting you effortlessly and pinning you flat against the weathered mattress.
Soap flipped you onto your stomach with terrifying ease, his rough hands immediately kneading the soft flesh of your ass as he admired the stark red handprint left behind by the captain.
“What’s it gonna be, Gaz? Heads or tails?” Johnny joked darkly, his voice thick with a heavy, predatory amusement.
Gaz didn't bother answering with words. He walked over to the head of the mattress and dropped to his knees, lining his swollen tip up mere inches from your face. He reached down, tangling a fistful of his fingers into your hair while his rough thumb stroked your cheek.
Any trace of his previous nervousness was entirely gone, replaced by a dominant, sinister look that made your insides coil tightly, leaving you completely soaked.
“Nah, I think heads suits me just fine, Soapy boy,” Gaz murmured, a dark grin spreading across his face. Without a shred of warning, he shoved his length deep into your mouth, forcing you straight down to the base.
Your eyes widened at the sudden, suffocating fullness. A muffled gasp caught in your chest as you choked slightly, your throat struggling to adjust to the sheer size of him.
“Not so bratty now, are we, princess?” Gaz mocked in a tone of faux sympathy. Clamping both hands around your head with a crushing grip, he began guiding his cock down your throat at an unforgiving, relentless pace.
Behind you, Soap wasted absolutely no time. He lined himself up with your slick entrance, dragging his swollen tip along your wet folds until your entire body shivered with desperate need. With a heavy, deliberate shove, he buried himself inside you, completely stretching out your tight little walls.
The sudden, overwhelming blend of burning friction and fullness made your eyes roll back, an involuntary moan vibrating directly against Gaz’s cock. The tight constriction of your throat made Gaz grunt, his teeth biting into his lower lip from the sheer intensity of the feeling.
“That’s it, lass. Good little slut for us, aren’t you?” Soap grunted. He delivered a hard, encouraging pat to your thigh before gripping your hips in an iron hold, instantly picking up a brutal, rhythmically punishing pace.
You were quite the sight—stretched and thoroughly used at both ends by your fellow sergeants, completely caught in the middle of their raw, unbridled hunger. From the shadows of the room, Price and Ghost could only stand and watch. Their dark eyes were completely fixated on the chaotic spectacle, slowly stroking themselves in heavy anticipation for their own turn to completely ruin you.
Drool escaped the corner of your lips as you continued to take Kyle deep into your mouth, hollowing your cheeks as you looked up at him through tear-stained, lustful eyes. The visual alone was enough to push Gaz straight over the edge.
“S-shit, you’re fucking enjoying this, aren’t you? Such a fucking slut” he panted, his chest heaving.
You let out a muffled, wicked little giggle around his length in response, which only caused his thrusts to become entirely erratic. His head snapped back in pure pleasure, his face completely scrunched up as he released a hot, heavy load straight down your throat. He kept his hands locked in your hair, holding himself deep in your mouth to ride out his high and ensure you swallowed every single drop of his cum.
Behind you, Johnny was close behind. His brutal thrusts were becoming sluggish and heavy, his deep, guttural grunts echoing off the dingy walls as his climax neared.
The moment Kyle finally pulled out of your mouth, Soap gripped your hips and flipped you over onto your back, pulling his twitching cock out just in time to release all over your chest. You let out a shaky moan, watching the sticky, white substance coat your sensitive breasts. You dipped a finger into the mess, licking it off your skin as Johnny milked himself dry above you.
“That’s it, lass. Rub it all over that pretty body,” Soap growled, his voice thick and raw. He reached up, his firm hand wrapping around the back of your neck to pull you into a deep, bruising kiss, forcing you to taste his juices on your own tongue as you submissively allowed him to invade your mouth one last time.
You lay there flat on the weathered mattress, completely fucked out and floating in a haze of pure bliss—entirely unaware that you weren’t even close to being done.
From the shadows, the two older men stepped forward, stalking over to the edge of the bed like apex predators finally cornering their prey.
“Why don’t you lads go get cleaned up,” Price instructed. His voice was entirely calm, but it carried the unyielding weight of an order rather than a suggestion. Before either sergeant could even think to protest, they gathered their gear and slipped out of the room, quiet, satisfied smirks plastered across their faces.
Then, the door clicked shut, leaving you entirely at the mercy of your Captain and Lieutenant.
You could only let out a weak, breathy whimper as you looked up at the two men standing over you, their expressions dark with a terrifying, unyielding intensity. Your naked body was utterly dwarfed by their massive, towering builds, and the stark contrast only added to the frantic nervousness fluttering in your chest.
You knew right then and there that they had absolutely no intention of being gentle with you.
Dropping to your knees between them, you were completely caged by their sheer size. Their heavy, scarred hands began to roam freely over your already exhausted body—tugging at your waist, squeezing your hips, and delivering sharp, possessive slaps to your breasts that wrung helpless mewls of pleasure from your lips.
“Captain, I—”
You were cut off instantly by a sharp, stinging slap to your cheek. It wasn't enough to truly hurt, but the force of it was more than enough to put you directly in your place and let you know exactly who owned the room now.
“It’s Daddy to you, little miss,” Price commanded sternly.
His thick fingers clamped around your jaw, his thumb roughly forcing its way past your lips. Driven by the sudden, intoxicating shift in the dynamic, you immediately began to suck on his thumb, your wide, needy eyes locking onto his.
With his free hand, he reached down and pinched your nipple, calloused fingers rolling the hyper-sensitive bud so ruthlessly that a muffled yelp escaped around his thumb.
“Use your words, little miss,” his voice dropped to a deep, gravelly rasp.
“Y-yes, Daddy,” you managed to choke out, your chest heaving as you looked up at him through long lashes.
A low, gruff voice from directly behind you pulled you right out of your dazed thoughts. “Here’s how it works, dove,” Simon murmured, his tone cold, commanding, and absolutely unyielding.
“Since you were brave enough earlier to pull that stunt, we're going to see just how much you really mean it. You won’t disappoint us, right, little one?”
It was terrifying how easily you crumbled into a desperate, eager-to-please mess the second Ghost gave you an instruction. But before you could even nod, a massive, gloved hand slid between your thighs, finding your over-stimulated nub and pinching it firmly.
“What did we say about using your words, princess?” Simon warned, his voice vibrating against your back.
“Y-yes, s-sir… I’ll b-be so good,” you breathlessly choked out, completely undone by the agonizingly beautiful pressure building all over again.
"Good girl", Simon praised from behind.
Price lay back on the mattress, his dark eyes fixed on your trembling form as Simon lifted you with effortless, terrifying strength, guiding you directly over the captain’s waiting cock.
If you had thought Gaz and Soap were big, you were in for a brutal, rude awakening.
Price’s large hands clamped securely onto your hips, providing the leverage to slowly and unyieldingly ease you down onto his massive, twitching size. He stretched your tight walls like nothing you had ever experienced before.
Panicking from the sheer fullness of him, you instinctively tried to pull away and escape, but the iron grip on your hips held you completely paralyzed in mid-air, forcing you to take him.
“That’s it, pretty girl. Nearly there,” Price cooed, his breath hitching as he felt your tight, aching muscles convulsively swallow him down, forcing you to sink all the way onto his terrifying length.
Your aching core finally bottomed out against him, your chest heaving as you tried to catch your breath. But just as you thought the worst of the stretching was over, Simon’s massive hands slid around your waist, adjusting your posture and tilting your hips forward.
His heavy palm pressed flat against your spine, pinning you in place as he lined himself up directly at your tight backdoor entrance. His tip was already leaking pre-cum with anticipation, rubbing in small, maddening circles against the hyper-sensitive skin of your second hole. You squeezed your eyes shut, bracing for the inevitable impact.
“Be a good girl and breathe in for me, dove,” Simon murmured darkly.
Before you could even draw air into your lungs, a sharp, burning fullness invaded your lower half as he shoved himself straight inside you without an ounce of warning.
Your head flew back, your eyes rolling to the ceiling as a breathless, ragged scream died in your throat. The absolute pressure of having both of your superiors' cocks stretching both holes simultaneously was overwhelming. If it was even possible, Simon felt even larger and thicker than Price—which shouldn't have been surprising given the sheer, beastly size of the Lieutenant.
You were practically seeing stars. Your mind completely whited out as the two older men began a brutal, unyielding rhythm, bullishly pistoning in and out of your poor, tired holes with a relentless, synchronised force.
Your legs were shaking violently at this point, entirely spent and completely unable to keep you steady. But you didn't have to worry about collapsing; two sets of massive, heavily calloused hands held you in an iron vice, keeping you firmly locked in place as they thoroughly broke you in.
“Fuck…” Simon started
“That’s it. You’re so fucking good for us, little dove,” Simon growled, his deep voice vibrating right through your back. The raw praise only amped up your bliss, making your head spin. With what little strength you had left, you leaned back against his massive chest, hooking a tired arm around his neck to pull him even closer into you.
“Knew she would make us proud,” Price beamed, his eyes completely transfixed on your flushed, completely fucked-out face. He gripped your hips even tighter, brutally picking up the pace from below.
The room was filled with the lewd, echoes of wet friction and heavy skin slapping against skin, completely drowning out your strangled moans.
“F-fuck… i-it’s too m-much,” you practically begged, your voice cracking as you felt that familiar, tight knot in your stomach winding up all over again.
But your desperate pleas only encouraged your superiors to push you even harder, driving you right over the cliff.
Before you could even process the sensory overload, your climax tore through you yet again. Your entire body went completely limp against Simon, your muscles twitching helplessly. There was no physical way you could keep this up, but the two men had absolutely no intention of letting you off the hook just yet.
“What do you think, Cap? I think she’s got at least one more in her, don’t you agree?” Ghost asked. His breath was ragged and hot against your ear, and you felt his large, heavy hand slide up to wrap firmly around your neck, his grip on your throat tightening just enough to restrict your breath and force your head back against his shoulder.
The sudden restriction of oxygen made your vision blur with stars, your pulse hammering frantically against his palm as your tight, overstimulated cunt convulsed around them.
“Think you’re right, Lieutenant,” Price panted, his dark eyes darkening further as he watched your helpless, choked-up expression.
With that, their rhythm became even more brutal than before, their heavy bodies pistoning in a relentless, synchronized assault.
All three of you were completely slick with sweat now.
Simon kept his iron grip on your throat, using his other hand to reach around your torso, finding your hyper-sensitive, throbbing clit and rolling it at an evil, unforgiving pace that made you screech out a muffled cry.
At the same time, Price leaned up, capturing one of your sensitive nipples between his teeth and sucking hard enough to leave a deep, dark bruise.
You had never experienced this much overwhelming pleasure in your entire life. Somehow, your body found a second wind, and you crashed into another shattering orgasm—so intense you genuinely thought you were going to explode.
Both men were right behind you. With a final few deep, punishing thrusts, they both let out guttural roars, spilling their hot, heavy cum deep inside your holes, completely filling you to the brim.
As they finally pulled out, your legs gave way entirely. They gently lowered your trembling, spent body onto the weathered mattress before stepping back and standing up.
Lying flat on your back, you could only blink through the haze, admiring their toned, god-like statures. They stood panting in the dim light, their skin glistening with a mixture of sweat and your own slick juices as they proudly admired their handiwork.
“You did well, Sergeant,” Simon murmured, his voice returning to its usual quiet rumble. “Maybe that'll teach you to not be a brat in the future”, he teased, turning to leave the room to grab you a glass of water in a merciful attempt to bring you back down to reality.
“Think this should probably become a regular team-building exercise,” Price panted, chuckling to himself as he followed closely behind the Lieutenant.
You lay there frozen on the mattress, your muscles twitching as you tried to comprehend what the absolute fuck had just happened—while secretly hoping this was far from the last time they’d break you in.
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you've got used to simon’s silence when he's deployed. no calls. no texts. he simply vanishes from your shared life.
before his last mission, you’d pressed a small, matte black disc into his palm.
“what th’ fuck is this?” he’d grumbled, eyebrows knitted together.
“pocket pussy,” you’d deadpanned back. “best one i could get. you fuck it, i feel it. means i know you’re still alive… and we can both get off while you’re gone.”
his ears went red, but he’d tucked it into his bag without another word.
now, almost every night, you feel him.
thick fingers parting your folds, brushing over your clit until you’re soaked and trembling. then comes the stretch - his cock pressing into you from halfway across the world. you recognise every ridge, every vein, the perfect shape of him.
sometimes he fucks you hard and fast, like he’s angry at the distance, hips snapping until your back arches and you cum with his name falling from your lips. other nights he’s slow, teasing your clit with absent circles of his thumb while he edges you, leaving your legs shaking and your voice hoarse from begging even though there's no way for him to hear you.
you’ve even felt him in the middle of the day - once when you were doing the big shop, having to pretend to be closely examining the nutritional information on a packet of cereal whilst your legs trembled. once in the shower, knees buckling as he thrust into you without warning, the stretch absolutely obscene.
but every time he uses that little black disc, relief floods you.
"Hurry up, Soap!" Gaz complains. "I want a turn with her before we have to go!"
"She has other holes!" Soap grunts, his hips harshly slamming into you.
"Easy, boys. There's more than enough of that pussy to go around." Ghost laughs. His hand comes to pet your cheek, his thumb parting your lips.
High-pitched, squeaky moans are forced out of you with each harsh thrust. You clench around Soap hard enough for him to curse, his hips stuttering.
Gaz practically body slams Soap out of the way to get to you, or more adequately, your sloppy, dribbling pussy. "Shh, easy, honey. It's just me."
Gaz's thrusts are deep and harsh, making you repeatedly sob and cry out his name. Your whole world narrows down to Gaz and his cock. Nothing else really registers with you.
You sob at the loss when Gaz pulls out of your spent, swollen pussy. You whine, confused when no one moves to replace him.
