Ghost Never Defines Your Relationship, And In A Lot Of Ways What Is Allowed Is Determined By Him. And

Anyways, being fucked nasty in the back of Gaz's car after a date. Pulled off into some unlit, unpopulated parking lot so he can have the back door open while he rails you into the seats. Clawing at the upholstery of the car as he fucks you, each thrust inching you up just a little only be pulled back down by his iron grip on you. Flipping you around so he can lean over you and bring you in for a kiss and tell you how good you're doing good for him while your pussy clenches down around his thick cock.

so I’m a little freak that gets a raging boner when stupid doofus characters realize how much they messed up and hurt someone

would cum in my pants a little if you made college Johnny from the promethean series suffer I’ll be real

I’d like to think Simon actually manages to coax shy!reader out of their shell and make some cute noises for him during sex :(( and Johnny has to hear just how sweet they sound when someone fucks them right

need that dog to come begging for scraps (please)

This also gives me a boner

Promethean: Coming home to roost

Why is he doing this? Why is he doing this?

He’d come to Simon’s room to talk about his their the bird. The logic just didn’t click in his brain in time. Obviously if his door was closed, it meant she was inside with him, didn’t it? That he was inside of her—

Soap was about to knock when he heard it. Angelic. That was the word for it, really. He prided himself on his skills, but he didn’t know women could sound like that. That you could sound like that.

Johnny had made you cum. Every time he was with you— at least once, usually more. But your sounds were so hushed. You bit your lip and whined. It was cute, and he wasn’t so invested in your pleasure that he needed you to scream for him or anything. He knew you were having a good time, that was enough. Right?

But the moans he heard through that door. He could picture you, mouth wide and back arching while Simon held his calloused fingers at your clit, his strokes careful and deliberate. Soap felt himself rooted at the door. He shouldn’t be listening. But he can’t bring himself to walk away.

Your sounds change. Punctuated. Like you’re crying out for more with every thrust. Johnny can just barely hear the wet smack of flesh on flesh, of your cunt gushing she takes everything Simon has to give.

“Yes, yes— Simon, oh, fuck— please? Oh my god—“

Johnny’s used to getting so horny is brain fogs up. It’s normal for him to get hard and think “this is the hardest I’ve ever been”. But this time it might be true. And he hates it. Why didn’t you sound this good in his bed? Why did he give a fuck?

He knew why you didn’t sound as good back the . He could hear your cries being swallowed by Simon’s mouth as he kissed you. Fucker probably had you in missionary (he did) and was holding your hand (he was) while cooing in your ear about how gorgeous you were and how perfect you felt (it was more like growling).

You were getting fucked proper. And here he was, the once proud hound now pawing at the master’s door like a stray. He doesn’t just want you back, which is horrific enough to realize— he wants to be in the room with the both of you. Wants to see how Simon’s cock is making you feel religion. Wants to stroke his cock and watch how it’s done, then take a turn in your creamy pussy after he’s done and get scolded with Simon’s hand pinching his neck from the back— scolded for not knowing how to fuck you, love you, appreciate what you’d—

Your near sobbing cry from beyond the door snaps free the coil that’d wound so tight in his belly.

Oh fuck. No, no, no. He couldn’t have. Untouched? Never— not him. Fuck.

You’re on your side, nestled under Simon’s arm and nuzzling into his chest when you hear a door slam in the hallway.

I’m sorry this train just won’t stop

More Johnny and Ghost with Ghost’s selectively mute (edit; I originally labeled reader as non-verbal, but I was made aware mutism more accurately describes this!) gf

Soap loves it when Simon fingers you in front of him, movie totally forgotten, and lets him cum on your stomach when he jerks off. And seeing Simon wipe it from your pretty belly and put his fingers between your lips? Goddamn.

But you know what makes him feel over the fucking moon? When you hug him at the door when he’s heading out. When you say goodnight so, so quietly in his ear.

We all know that man is a dog. And now you’ve got him by the fucking leash. He’ll do anything to hear more of that voice.

He’s totally addicted. Now every time he meets up with the guys and you’re along, or he comes to your place for movie nights, he’s leaning down for you to whisper hi, Soap, or goodnight, Johnny. Two little words and he’s melting. And he starts unlocking more little bits— learning to prompt in ways that you’ll respond.

Instead of asking how you’ve been, what you’ve been up to, running his mouth the way his thumping heart is telling him to, he just asks “you okay?” So he can hear your sweet, quiet tone when you say I’m ok.

Makes him fucking hard. He’s never been so hard on so little before. Just two fucking words and he feels like he’s gonna pass out from his blood rushing down.

MDNI 18+

loser simon riley unaware that he is largely endowed getting laid for the first time

cw: loss of virginity, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, simon is down bad

simon getting pussy for the first time and doesn’t know how to act

“fuck si, your huge,” your hand gently stroking his cock, as he tried his best to not come right there and then. everything felt like a wet dream, a pretty girl like you all dolled up fisting his cock as you kissed his neck, perched up on his lap. your pretty pink lace panties tossed on the floor as you grinned on his muscular thighs, the idea of his cock deep inside you made you feel little achy in between your legs.

“i don’t know if it’ll fit,” you whined as you rubbed it along your glossy cunt, his cock painfully hard as he smeared the pre cum all over you. “it’ll fit, i promise,” simon groaned when you gently nudged his sensitive tip to your soppy hole, barely in and he was already a mess.

he would make it fit, god he would do anything to feel your small cunt around him.

you sank down inch by inch, but the stretch was too much, burning slightly as your cunt accommodated to his length. “is it all the way in si?” your voice trembling as you bit down on your glossy lip, your body already trembling.

“almost half way,” his large tatted hands gently holding your sides, “please, i need all of you.”

simon didn’t care if he sounded pathetic, because he was. he was so god damn desperate to feel something other than his calloused hands, or the stupid flesh light that he got.

“please, jus’ a lil more, i’ll make you feel good, please.” he begged, barely half way in and your cunt felt so warm, so welcoming - he couldn’t just let you go.

slowly you took him all the way in, your body shaking as the prominent bulge in your stomach was displayed, your breaths coming out in pants.

“i’ll make you feel good, i promise.”

his thrusts were awkward at first, you were just so damn tight like you are sucking him back in, barely pulling out a few inches before slamming back into you.

“too big si,” your nails slowly digging into his skin as your gummy walls clenched around him. “you can take it, yer doin’ so well.” he cooed softly as his mind went hazy with pleasure, a guttural groan leaving his lips as he bounced you on top of him.

you were like his personal flesh light, so warm and loving, your sweet cunt tightly snug against his cock - god he wasn’t going to stop.

his thrusts turned sloppy, the sound of skin slapping filled the room as you bounced mindlessly on his cock. you were too damn cock drunk to even think, his fat tip hitting all of your sweet spots.

“si, i think i’m gonna come.” the comment alone snapped simon out of his trance. the thought of you clenching tightly around him, whilst you came on his cock, it dribbling down almost made him come right there and then.

he wrapped his tatted arm around your waist, pulling you to his chest as he thrusted into your cunt harshly, your body trembling trying to get away from the amount of pleasure. “stay here please, i’ll make you feel good,” simon mumbled as he held you tightly in his arms,

the moment you came so did he, the feeling of your walls clenching around him was too much, he wasn’t used to it after all - only the feeling of his rough palms and the loveless toy.

“did you just-”

“fuck ‘m sorry, you just felt too good.” he grimaced at his apology, his hands wrapped your waist as if he didn’t want to let you go. “jus’ one more please?”

his eyes glued to the way his cum slowly oozed out of your cunt.

tag list: @happysmappy @mydickishuge560 @prettyinpink-bimbo @dolli333 @madebyyicarus @l-otti @butlerslut @vampwifee @i-wanabe-yours @bluebarrybubblez @cinnamongrl2006 @akkahelenaa @yanfeiiiiii @actualpoppy @lilyalone @other-fandoms-reblogs @goonette6969

When you blow johnny and just keep gagging and choking he'll most likely laugh at you. But because you don't just let things slide–that man needs to be put in his place anyway–you pull out one of your dildos, and tell him to suck it. He laughs incredulously at first, though not totally opposedto the idea. But once he saw the expression on your face he knows you're serious. And he was never one to turn down a challenge.

Safe to say he's gagging like a bitch. Can barely take half the thing without tears stinging at his eyes. And if you're mean you tell him, "well, that's pathetic, baby." In a mocking tone. (lt makes his cock twitch dw) and if you're even meaner you decide to 'help out'. Forcing the toy down his throat with your hand. Do it over and over. Like he does when fucking your throat without consideration. He's a mess by the end, sweaty, eyes red with tears flowing from them, drooled all over the toy, down on himself like some mutt. But some time during it he came without even being touched.

He doesn't make fun of you again.

Deployment

Thinking about being a little too good at getting Johnny off. The way he grits his teeth as he thrusts into your fist, whining and begging: “Not yet—fuck—please not yet.” Brain begging for one thing, body begging for another. Hmmm

homemade hair masks for gaz when he comes back from a deployment. especially from dryer places where you know his hair's suffered. aloe vera blended with avocado, egg, honey, and olive oil to help with moisture and protein. maybe a little bit of xantham gum to thicken it up if you want. sitting him down on one of your yoga mats, an old bleached towel on his shoulders as he leans his cheek on your inner thigh while you apply the mask straight to his hair while he watches tv, his shoulders relaxing the longer your fingers work through his hair. eyes fluttering softly as he tries to stay awake at the soft, delicate movements that he only ever receives at home.

in conclusion:

And stop inviting everybody to the cookout. (Especially just because they can do a lil two count and hold a tune)

Sinners spoilers without context.

Price x Reader. Age gap. Divorced Price. Older BF Price. Vaguely smutty. Follow-up to this.

Price realizes you’ve never had a reliable man in your life exactly the second time he discovers you looking up DIY home maintenance for very simple projects.

It missed him the first time because he was deployed. You’d mentioned offhand how you were figuring out how to rebalance a ceiling fan, and he’d just automatically assumed that you were doing it yourself because he wasn’t there, so he simply praised you for your resourcefulness and lived for the next three weeks off of the way you’d absolutely glowed at his words.

But then he gets home, and one evening on the couch he catches you googling “how to fix a leaky sink.”

“What’s that?” he asks you, tamping down on the sudden feeling of masculine inadequacy that reared up almost immediately at the discovery.

“Faucet handle’s leaking all over my counter when I turn it on,” you say, not looking up from your phone. “Landlord’s out of town and can’t fix it.”

“I’m in town, ain’t I?”

You look up at him then, brows raised. You hadn’t even considered asking him, then.

“Oh—I didn’t want to bother you, John, you only just got back, and you’re tired…”

You trail off at the droll expression on his face.

Price has learned a lot of lessons from his previous marriage. The foundational one: just because he hasn’t been asked to help doesn’t mean he is believed to be unreliable. Adding that lesson to his knowledge base about you—young, modern, independent—calculates out an obvious answer that curtails any sour mood that might have sprouted up over the issue.

He puts his hand over your phone screen and lowers it down to your lap. “I’m fixin’ the sink,” he says simply.

He enjoys the way your eyes dilate at the assertion.

The next day, he shows up at your flat wearing old work clothes and carrying his heavy toolbox in his hand.

(You don’t live together yet—something he’s keen to rectify—but he has a toothbrush in your bathroom and permanent space in your bedroom drawers. He can be content for now.)

And you—you answer the door in the filmiest of sundresses, the ribbon tie on one shoulder hanging at a loose angle.

“Heard you need some plumbing done,” he says in the gruffest of voices, already understanding the game.

“Oh, thank goodness you’re here,” you say, barely able to hide your giggle, “I’ve been so worried.”

He steps in close to you, close enough to feel the heat of your body radiating off of your bare skin. He has half a mind to put the charade aside and lift your skirt here and now, but another lesson helpfully springs to mind: anticipation of the act makes the finale all the sweeter.

“I’ll show you to the kitchen,” you murmur, looking up at him with warm, dreamy eyes.

When he gets under the sink, he finds the problem easy enough to fix—the cold water supply line simple isn’t screwed in tight enough, and when he wiggles the whole contraption by the valves he finds that nothing has been tightened up to standard. A couple of years knocking the thing around had probably loosened up the locknut.

He elects to fix the whole problem in one go, while in the meantime you stand off to the side, watching him. He feels your eyes on his legs, trailing up to the hair on his belly exposed by his shirt riding up.

“Sir, I’m sorry, I should’ve said before,” you simper, “but I’m not really sure how I’m gonna pay for this.”

His cock jumps in his jeans, and he feels your gaze move to it as if it’s a physical touch.

He levers himself out a little and meets your eyes, keeping a stern expression on his face.

“I’m sure you’re gonna figure it out,” he says. Looking down at his groin and then back up at your face might be a touch unsubtle, but clear communication had been the most important lesson of all.

He slides himself back under, and pretends he doesn’t feel you approach, or lower to your knees between his spread legs. He ignores your gentle hands falling on the closure of his jeans, the pop of the button coming undone, the parting of the zipper as you pull it down.

“Of course, sir,” you say, “I’m sure I will.”

The softness of your hand meets his growing erection, caressing the head of his cock with your thumb—followed very close behind by the wet, liquid heat of your mouth.