#tank x johnny | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

kitten4sannie · 5 months ago

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trendsetter

reach for my goals, hit it dead center

pairing: idol ex! mingi x fem! reader

genre: an actual idol au omg, smut

summary: mingi reminds you why he was so hard to leave in the first place, well, the first few times, anyway.

w.c: 3.3k

bc i’m bigger, better

warnings: brief weed use/shotgunning (mingi’s a plug in another life btw <3), mingi’s kinda a dickhead and a master manipulator (damn double homicide), dom! mingi, subby! reader, mingi’s got a big cawk, glove ? kink? idk bro, exhibitionism, teasing, praise/degradation, pet names galore/name calling, tit play, spit, fingering, finger sucking (leads to some gagging), oral (giving), deep-throating, cum eating, grinding, kissing, size kink, breeding kink, mingi fucks reader raw on the hood of her own car hallelujahhhh

a/n: don’t blame me for this btw,, blame mingi mango and the things he’s been posting on ig 😮‍💨 this man makes me delirious istg. also i wrote this while incredibly sleep deprived just so yk !! there might be some grammar and spelling errors (as well as a general sense of lunacy ✨) regardless i hope you enjoy and please do let me know if you liked it bc feedback is like a treat for me and im a treat hungry lil goblin uwu <3

song recs: so damn into you by vlad holiday - come 2 me by johnny goth - liquid by boston manor

Mingi barely made it two steps past one of the various emergency exit doors of the booming, hectic arena, dropping his lighter on the ground when his favorite ex suddenly came waltzing back into his life again after just swiftly exiting it for the nth time.

“Where are my car keys? I know you have them,” you abruptly confronted him, snatching the lighter from the ground before he could grab it and sliding it inside your tank top, right in between your tits.

“Why would I have your car keys, sugar?” Mingi sighed exasperatedly, walking in your direction until he towered over you, gently clasping his calloused hands around your upper arms so he could rub them up and down in an effort to calm you, gently turning you around until your back pressed into the cool metal of the emergency door. “Can you use that pretty little head of yours for me, Y/N? I just performed right now. I was busy rehearsing before that. Do you really think I would take your keys from you just to keep you from leaving?”

“Yes, I do. You always do some fuck shit like this when I try to leave. Every time, Mingi.” Despite the furrow of your brow and the contempt present within your words, you couldn’t help but watch as Mingi’s thumbs began to press into the sides of your tits. When you didn’t say anything, he began to press the rest of his gloved fingers into the softness of your chest.

“Some fuck shit like this?” Mingi asked under his breath, studying your flushed face to gauge your reaction as he squeezed your tits against the palms of his rough hands, rubbing his thumbs teasingly against the thin material of your sports bra until he felt your nipples harden. “You aren’t tell me to stop, baby. Cat got your tongue?”

“I hate you…” you whispered softly, not understanding why you never had the strength to deny him, even in a public, though empty alleyway, even after you just broke up with him only a little while ago.

“You don’t seem to hate this…Your body’s responding to me…” Mingi suddenly pinched your nipples through your sports bra, chuckling at the gasp you let out. He leaned down, bringing his lips to your ear to whisper, “I bet you don’t hate how wet I’m making you right now, either. Is your cunt throbbing for me already, Y/N?”

“N-no…” You bit into your bottom lip when your ex let out a disapproving ‘uh-uh’ as you turned your head to look away from him, squeezing your thighs together, hoping your arousal wouldn’t drip past your short skirt.

With one hand still clasped around your tit to play with it, Mingi brought the other up to grasp your chin, making you face him again, so close that you were breathing in each other’s air, your parted lips almost touching. “You’ll let me check to see if you’re lying, won’t you, sugar? Can I see how many fingers I can fit inside your tight little cunt?”

You hated how much your body and soul still burned for your lecherous ex, hated how desperate you suddenly were for him to have his way with you, but what you hated most of all was the way you whimpered out, “Please, Minnie.”

Mingi groaned softly at the use of his pet name, feeling most of his blood began to head below the belt, letting go of your chin, the both of you watching as his hand disappeared underneath your skirt. He instantly slipped two thick fingers inside you up to the knuckles, despite wearing a pair of thick leather gloves, the both of you moaning at the squelching sound your bare, wet cunt made. “That’s my girl. You wore this slutty little skirt and no panties just for me, didn’t you? You don’t even care about getting out of here with your keys. You just wanted me to put my hands all over you one last time, yeah?”

Just as you were about to respond, Mingi suddenly stuffed his leather-bound fingers into your mouth, making you taste your own warm wetness. “A-aaahn,” you moaned around his moving digits, feeling them slip along your hot tongue, looking up at your ex’s intensely dark gaze.

“Suck,” he simply requested, smiling fondly at the sight of your plush lips closing around his fingers, pushing them further and further back until he made you gag around them, his cock throbbing at the sight of your teary doe eyes. “Oh, baby, if you’re going to be looking at me like that and making those pretty noises, I’m gonna lose it…but, you can take it, right? My fingers in your throat?”

You whined softly, trying your best not to gag more around his moving fingers, relaxing your throat enough so that the only sound that could be heard was your moans and the abundance of saliva in your mouth.

“Good girl.” Mingi slipped his fingers out of your mouth and pressed his lips onto your cheek, whispering, “Can you take my cock down your throat next, pretty girl? I worked so hard to perform tonight, you know. Don’t you think I deserve head from my favorite ex?”

“Uh-huh,” you found yourself agreeing, your head still fuzzy from having his fingers inside your mouth, desperate to have something else warm and thick on your tongue, thankful for the heavy hand that began to push your head down until your bare knees were resting against the cold concrete below.

“Say ‘aaah’,” Mingi cooed darkly from above, expertly undoing his thick belt buckle and lowering his pants until his stiff, reddened cock smacked up into his abdomen. It was then that his hands were drawn to either side of your head, barely giving you enough time to open your mouth before he thrusted forward, the tip of his cock instantly hitting the back of your throat. “Fuckkkk, that’s a good slut. You don’t have to be my girlfriend to be my fuck toy, huh, baby?”

Your moans of approval were instantly muffled by the massive cock that was being stuffed inside your throat by your eager ex, as you reached up to grasp at his hips, the shiny lighter that was still sitting in between your tits starting to jostle around due to Mingi’s rough movements.

Suddenly reminded of his post-concert ritual, Mingi reached into his back pocket and placed a joint between his lips, then fished the lighter out from between your tits, but not before he squished one of them for the hell of it. He rolled the dial on the lighter a few times before a flame sparked, bringing it up and lighting the tip of his joint.

The strong aroma of Mingi’s flower reached you in an instant, having to blink your many tears away to watch him take a deep puff of it and blow it out into your face. Your lips tingling from the immense stretch, you sputtered around his pulsing cock, suddenly pulling away, letting your spit laced lips rest against his leaking tip, weakly licking at the pre-cum that spilled from it. “M-minnie…”

“Why’d you stop?” Mingi grunted, biting on the tip of the joint to keep it from falling from his lips, looking down at you with his sharp, slightly red eyes. Using his free hand to jerk himself off with his cockhead pressed to your lips and smearing his pre-cum over them just for his own enjoyment, he slowly realized what was up. “Oh, you want a hit? Aren’t you precious? Come here.”

Mingi slowly lowered himself down into a crouching position, letting go of his cock to grab your chin with his arousal coated fingers, taking in a deeper inhale, the majority of the joint turning to ash, just as he flicked it away into the gutter. He pressed his lips onto yours in an open-mouthed kiss, neither of you bothering to close your eyes as he slowly filled your lungs with smoke.

Just as you began to choke while trying to exhale all the smoke, Mingi dragged his tongue across your own and over your top set of teeth just because he felt like it, before standing back up. “I bet you’re feeling real good now, baby. That was top shelf.” He spat into the palm of his hand and lubed up his cock, before patting your cheek and sliding himself back into the hot haven that was your throat, not wasting a single second to begin pumping himself inside it again, almost like he had never stopped.

Now that both your body and brain were delightfully clouded with a heavy, lustful high, you felt like you could cum just from getting ruthlessly throat-fucked alone, your nails digging into Mingi’s bare hips, more and more tears and saliva dripping along your flushed skin the longer he abused your tiny throat with his oversized length.

“Fuck, I can’t handle it when you cry and drool like that just from sucking my cock, baby. I’m gonna fucking cum,” Mingi groaned deeply from above you, rested his forearms against the emergency door, thrusting sloppily into your mouth. He let out a few short, whiny moans once he began to shudder, plunging his throbbing cock deep inside your throat and staying still. “Oh, shit, I’m cumming. Take my load, princess, ohh my god, that’s it.”

You swallowed the warm, salty liquid as it shot down your throat, only to open your mouth and present your tongue when Mingi pulled out and began to slowly milk his cock, taking the rest of his load on your tongue, not swallowing and simply letting it drip down, a few drops spilling down your chin and getting onto your tits.

“Mm, that’s my messy girl. You’re waiting for me to feed it to you, huh?” Mingi licked at his plush lips from witnessing your obedient nod, pushing his soft cock back into his pants and waiting for you to stand up so that he could collect some of the cum that had escaped your mouth and pushed it back into your mouth. “That’s right, babygirl, clean it all up for me. Mm-hmm, just like that.”

Once you slurped the rest of his load off of his fingers, you wrapped your arms around Mingi’s neck, pressing your heated body into his. “Mingiiii, please fuck me, I can’t take it,” you begged him underneath your breath, pressing your lips onto his neck up to his tense jawline.

“Oh, yeah? You can’t live without this dick, can you?” he questioned you huskily, bringing his wrists up to his mouth one by one to pull his gloves off with his teeth, before reaching past your waist to roughly squeeze his warm hands into your ass. When you grimaced up at him, he tugged your skirt up and spread your ass open to run his fingers down your wet slit from behind, making you whimper. “Admit it, and i’ll fuck you stupid, princess.”

Swallowing down any remaining dignity you had along with the remnants of your ex’s load, you lifted one leg up to hook it around his slim waist, allowing him easier access to you wet cunt, shuddering at the sensation of him shallowly slipping his fingers into and out of you just to tease you. “I can’t live without your cock, Mingi, okay? No one fucks me like you do, so please, make me yours.”

Mingi rubbed the abundant wetness around your cunt, licking his lips hungrily, staring down at you past his dark shades. “Right here? Right now?”

“Yes.”

“What if someone sees, princess?”

“I don’t give a fuck if someone sees, just fuck me, please!”

Mingi grinned crookedly, finding deep amusement in your desperation, considering how you were acting just a little while ago. “Where’s your car, baby?”

You pointed down the dark alleyway. “It’s just around the corner over there.”

Mingi looked over his shoulder, then picked you up from the ground, hooking both of your thighs around his waist and carrying you over to your car, massaging his hands into your thighs on the way. “I don’t have any condoms, you know.”

When Mingi laid you down on the hood of your car, the cool metal sending goosebumps up and down your exposed, heated skin, you shook your head and smiled softly. “When has that ever stopped you?”

“Don’t act like you don’t love when I fuck you raw, and leave you stuffed full of my cum…” Still in between your legs, Mingi bent down to leave kisses, licks, and bites along your neck and collarbone, lowering his pants down just enough to free his length, his slick cock growing hard and heavy against your bare cunt. “Fuck, and when I use my fingers to shove my nut back inside your cunt after…mm, I’m honestly surprised you’re not knocked up for me already…”

“Mingi,” you whined disapprovingly, despite the fresh wave of slick coating your ex’s cock as it repeatedly rubbed back and forth along your cunt.

“What, I thought you liked being my cumslut…my little breeding bitch…my pump n’ dump princess…” Mingi recited playfully, teasing your fluttering hole with the tip of his cockhead, just about driving you to the brink of insanity withi his teasing.

“Shut up, Min, oh my god…”

“Why don’t you shut me up then?” he suggested, hovering close enough to your face for you to pull him in for a desperate kiss that consisted mainly of tongue and teeth, your mouths occasionally making contact in between tongue swipes and lip bites, the both of you panting all the while.

Growing impatient, you slipped your fingers into his choppy hair, tugging his head back until your lips parted, a few strands of saliva still connecting them. “If you don’t put your cock inside me in the next two seconds, I’m going to bite it off. You hear me, Song Mingi?”

Groaning breathily when you tugged at his hair again, Mingi let out a few soft chuckles, taking his shades off and setting them down on the corner of the hood. “Using my government name like that….I must’ve teased you too much. My poor angel, so desperate for cock. I’ll fuck you good, baby. I’ll make it up to you,” he sighed, as he wrapped his fingers around his length, guiding the tip to your entrance and sliding all the way in with ease, the both of you letting out obscene moans. Without any hesitation, Mingi began to buck his hips wildly, his metal belt banging against the hood of your car with each thrust. “Oh, fuck. You feel that? Is it good for you?”

“Yes…!” you cried out, barely about to speak, let alone function, now that your beloved ex was rearranging your guts with his colossal cock.

Huffing, Mingi threw your legs up over his shoulders and laid his body weight on you, essentially folding you in half. He ran his tongue along your jaw, before nipping at it, whispering, “God, you’re always so fucking tight, princess. Gonna milk me for all I’ve got, huh? Cuz’ you’re my good little slut, aren’t you?”

“Uh-huh, just for you, Minnie…”

“Mm-hmm, that’s why you’re still here even after you broke up with me earlier, baby…why you’re taking my cock on the hood of your car where anyone can see you…” Mingi continued, squeezing his hands into the plumpness of your thighs, getting a good grip on them, so that he could drive himself into you as hard as he possibly could, punching short, breathy moans out of you. “You sound so pretty for me, baby, and fuck, you’re so wet right now….You’re gonna cream all over my cock, aren’t you?”

As soon as it felt like Mingi’s oversized cock had slammed directly into your cervix, you let out an abrupt yell, an overwhelming amount of pleasure suddenly shooting through your body like lightning. “Fuck…! I’m cumming, Minnie, it’s so– oh my god.” You were gonna start whimpering and crying when Mingi gently placed his warm hand over your mouth, watching him nod his head knowingly at you, his suddenly softened gaze never leaving yours.

“That’s a good girl, such a good girl for me, Y/N,” Mingi sighed against your ear, the hot, wet sounds of your bodies colliding together and the ringing inside your ears almost too loud for you to hear him properly. Feeling your wetness pour out onto his cock, Mingi let go of your mouth and cradled your face instead, pressing slow, meaningful kisses onto your lips, a few drops of sweat dripping along the shaved sections of his hair just as your trembling fingers drifted along it. “Want it inside, yeah?”

“Yeah…” you whispered against his moving lips, not even realizing when you were clutching him impossibly close to you.

“That’s my baby…” Mingi pulled all the way out, your mixed arousal forming a milky foam around the base of his cock, before he slowly pushed all the way back in, just in time for him to paint your insides white with his seemingly endless load. He hugged you close to him all the while, pressing kiss and kiss onto your lips, face, and neck, knowing that your turbulent time together was about to come to an end, and wishing he could turn the clock back to spend another second with you.

Once your highs began to fade, you cleared your throat and slowly sat up, the both of you silently fixing your disheveled clothes and hair in a poor attempt to look presentable in the case of a random passerby.

“So…since you don’t have my keys, I’m not sure how I’m gonna get out of here,” you sighed, about to push yourself off of the hood of your car when Mingi helped you off instead, annoyed that he was suddenly acting gentlemanly when he had shown you nothing of the sort beforehand.

Smiling apologetically, Mingi fished around in one of his pockets and held your keys up to you. “I took them out of your purse before the show started.” Seeing the anger blossom on your pretty, flushed face, he continued, “Listen, I just wanted you to hear me out before you left and never came back to me, baby. I love you.”

You snatched the keys out of his hand and crossed your arms over your chest, leaning back to sit on the hood of your car, keeping your thighs pressed together to keep everything from leaking out of you. “You don’t get to say that after you just made me your ‘pump n’ dump princess’, you idiot.”

“But I didn’t dump you, Y/N. You’re the one who dumped me!” Mingi whined, his lower lip jutting out in a pout, his brown eyes growing wide and puppy-like.

You couldn’t help but begin to laugh, not only at the ludicrous situation you were both in, but at the truth of his statement. Wiping a tear from your eye, you clicked your keys to unlock your car and walked around to the driver’s side.

“Where are you going? Are you leaving me?”

“No, we’re going to the store to get Plan B, dummy. I’m not about to let Mingi Jr. run around and terrorize the city,” you replied, gazing at your ex, the sight of his childlike amusement making you feel a bit soft towards him.

“I call shotgun!” Mingi called, eagerly heading to the passenger door, practically bouncing on his heels.

“There’s only two of us,” you giggled, sitting down in the car with him.

“For now.” Mingi wiggled his eyebrows at you.

You turned the ignition on, shaking your head, the corners of your lips hurting from how long you had been smiling. “Never say that shit again.”

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canyonmooncreations · 6 months ago

Text

Simon Shares

Simon x reader, TF 141 x Reader

Summary: The team gathers at Simon’s house where his perfect girl hosts them. It’s a typical gathering, until it’s not (reader takes them all)

Authors note: I haven’t written a full piece in so long! I hope you don’t hate it 😭 just horny thoughts 😭

Warnings: reader is a needy slut, takes them all, p in v, spanking, overstimulation, and I think that’s it?

You and Simon have been together for quite a while. Engaged actually. That being said, you’ve meet his team several times and have grown to like them and they have grown to love you plenty. You’ve hosted them for cookouts, watching the ball games, and sometimes just for cards and beer.

When the boys are over, you’re always sitting on Simon’s lap or close enough for him to have a hand on your thigh or around your hip.

You’re comfortable around them. They don’t mind that you join them. Simon doesn’t mind the way their eyes rake over your body when you’re serving them food. He doesn’t mind the comments they make after you’ve walked away. To be truthful, he doesn’t mind the idea of sharing his pretty little thing with them.

Usually the night ends long after you’ve gone to bed. Waking up to Simon crawling into bed and wrapping you in his arms. Tonight was different

The boys were coming over for a cookout and cards, typical. When you were on your grocery run you decided to not only buy their beer but also some fruity little drinks for yourself. Simon didn’t mind when you put them in the cart, only replying with a hum. He knew this could end with trouble but wanted to see how it played out. He knew alcohol made you horny and needy. He knew bratty you got when you didn’t get your way. But maybe this was his opening…

The night began like any other. The boys arrived and found their seats on the patio. You served them dinner. They made their remarks as you walked back in the house. Simon smirked as he noticed the extra sway of your hips as the alcohol gave you some extra confidence.

After dinner, you found your spot on Simon’s lap. He could tell you’ve almost reached your limit. He noticed the way wiggled in his lap. He noticed the pout on your lips when his hands stopped your movement. John was the first to notice. He noticed your little show and saw the pout of your lips. John flashed a smirk at Simon and was met with one back.

The boys continued to play their cards and you continued to get needier. Johnny could help but notice the way your nipples perk through your little tank top. Nudging Kyle to look too.

You were oblivious to the three men staring at you and chuckling at your neediness. All you wanted was Simon’s attention and he was too busy playing cards.

You eventually realized you weren’t going to get what you wanted and decided on just pouting. Arms crossed, pouty lips, and your back to Simon’s chest. You could feel the occasional chuckle but refused to acknowledge him.

“Baby, w’don’t ya go grab us some more beer?” Usually this was met with a kiss to the lips and you finding your way inside. Today, however, he was met with nothing.

John chimed in. “Yeah sweetheart, could use another cold one.” He flashed you a smile. Nothing. You refused to acknowledge any of them.

“I think someone is pouting”. You didn’t miss the mocking tone in Kyle’s voice.

“Am not!!” You all but yelled at him. Voice laced with attitude.

All the eyebrows were raised. You hadn’t ever dared to act like this around them. Them only ever seeing your sweetness.

Simon didn’t hesitate to pick you up and carry you inside. He sat you down on the kitchen counter and let his hands fall to either side of you. He wanted to give you a chance to fix it.

“What’s the problem? Hmm?”

You could feel the tears welling in your eyes. “Just need you!” Your pouty lip returned. Simon chuckled. “It’s not funny”, you say as you attempt to push him away.

“I know, baby, I know. I’ll give you all the attention you need later. But for now, I need you to be a good girl. Can you do that? Can you be patient?”

He didn’t miss your eye roll or the way you squirmed at being called a good girl. Nonetheless, you nodded and wiped your tears. Simon moved away to grab some beers from the fridge.

“Now when we get back out there, you’re going to apologize for your attitude and just sit patiently. Be a good girl, hm?”

“Yes, Si…” Simon helped you off the counter and guided you back to the patio.

“Oh thank you for the drink darling” Johns voice dropping with amusement as they could all see your tear stained eyes and pouty lip still present.

“Yah, such a sweet girl” Johnny replied.

Simon was still standing behind you as you finished passing out the drinks. He landed a gentle (for Simon) smack on your ass as a little nudge to get started with your apology. He didn’t miss the way Kyle and Johnny were readjusting in their seats

“‘m sorry for having an attitude…” your sentence was punctuated with a sigh as you sat down onto Simon’s lap again. The boys chuckled and began their card game once again. Simon readjusted you to where you were straddling one of his legs. Playing it off as he needed better access to the table.

Your neediness had subsided for only a few minutes before your hips began to roll on Simon’s thigh. Kyle and Johnny’s eyes widened at the sight. John only smirked.

As John was passing out the cards for the new round, Simon cleared his throat.

“The winner of this round can take care of this needy slut I have here. Can’t help but be needy. Isn’t that right?”

You suddenly got shy, sinking back into Simon.

“Oh come on baby, just so needy. It’s okay, we’ll get somebody to take care of you”

A whine escapes your lips as Simon ignores you in his lap. The game carries on with every man playing and praying for a chance at the pretty little thing in Simon’s lap. The round ends as Simon places down his last card.

“Come on, that’s not fair!” Kyle exclaims. Frustrated and bulging in his pants.

“Rules are rules” John replies as he eyes Simon.

“Your lucky day” Simon readjust you and begins to unzip his pants. Your panties are soaked at this point. Pussy dripping with desire at the idea of Simon taking you right here in front of them or the idea of one of them taking you. “Take em off”.

You get a little shy as your realize Simon is really going to take you right here. In front of all of them. “Come on baby, show em what they missed out on.”

You slowly take them off and Simon lowers you down onto his lap. The boys are drooling at this point. Palming themselves through their pants at the sight of Simon’s giant cock sliding into your soaking little pussy. Simon lets you ride him for just a little until he can tell you’re close to cumming. He hands still your hips and a whimper leaves your mouth.

“That’s enough baby. Gonna let someone else feel you. Whoever is lucky enough to win this round”

The round goes on for what feels like hours. Simon still hard inside you with his hands finding your hips anytime you try to move. He gives you a warning squeeze as he stills your hips once more.

You can’t help it. You’re just so so needy. You find your hips moving once again in search of any release. What you didn’t expect was Simon’s hand coming down, smacking your pussy.

“That’s enough.” His sentence punctuated with another slap. A moan escapes your lips. The round finally comes to and end as John puts down his last card Simon chuckles as he lifts you off his lap. You’re hesitant. Is this really happening? Is Simon really gonna let someone else fuck you? You question is answered with a smack to your ass. Your legs are wobbly as you make your way over to John. He already has his dick out, hand moving up and down.

“Come here sweetheart.” His hands find your hips as he guides you down onto him. You moan as he moves you up and down. “God Simon, such a perfect little thing you have. Taking me nice and good.” John fucks you nice and slow. Rolling your hips and helping you bounce up and down

All cards are on the table as all men have their hands wrapped around their cocks. All rock hard at the sight of John fucking Simon’s little play thing.

As you chase your high, John’s quickly follows. Your eyes meet Simon’s. His laced with lust and desire. You’re laced with need. Simon stands and makes his way to you, where you still sit with John’s cock inside you.

“There’s my good girl. Why don’t you show Johnny just how good you can be?”

You let him help you off of John’s lap and over to Johnny’s. Simon moves to behind Johnny and removes your top. Leaving you bare and vulnerable. Simon leans against the railing and watches as his teammate fucks you He doesn’t give you much time to rest. Johnny doesn’t take you as soft as John. He’s pounding in and out of your pussy. Tits bouncing in his face. He fucks you hard and fast. You’re quick to come again, Johnny coming with you. Your face falls to his shoulder “where’s that attitude now?” Johnny quips.

The boys chuckle as the pout reruns to your lip. “Oh there it is!” Kyle laughs as Simon guides you over to Kyle.

“Need help? Hm? Need to me help fix that attitude?” Kyle is grinning as Simon helps you onto his lap.

“Yes she does. Help her out Kyle” Simon is leaning back on the railing as the moans escape from your lips. Kyle isn’t gentle or nice. His hands find your nipples as he makes your ride him. More moans escaping as your hands find his wrists. His hands find your hips as he notices your slowing down from being tired. He pounds into you as you once again chase your high as he does too. “Too much” you mutter.

Simon helps your off his lap and bends you over the table. Before you can protest, he’s deep inside you pounding in and out.

“Is this what my needy slut wanted? Did you want me to fuck you here in front of all of them? Did you want them to fuck you? Just so needy.”

You can’t help as the tears fall down your cheeks. It’s just too much. You can’t take anymore.

Almost as if he can read your mind, “come on baby, just one more”. The boys coo at you as Simon takes you from behind. Their hands find your nipples, your ass, roaming your body. Their hands make your body burn from the overstimulation of taking them all.

Simon coaxes one more out of you and comes in you as the other boys cum leaks out. He can’t help but moan at the sight. Pussy dripping with all their cum, hips and ass red from their hands guiding you up and down, and cheeks tear stained from it being all too much.

John returns to the patio with a wet rag, not that you noticed he left. Simon helps your get cleaned up and Kyle helps you get dressed. Johnny brings you a glass of water and fixes your hair out of your face.

Simon picks you up as your wrap your legs and arms around him. He carries you inside and helps you to bed. He leaves you after holding you for a few minutes with a kiss on your forehead

He walks back outside to all the boys with a huge smile on their face. What you don’t realize is that it takes Simon way longer than usual to join you in bed. Too wrapped up in conversation with his boys about how beautiful and perfect you are.

Let’s just say, the gatherings are way more eventful after today. The boys finding more and more reasons to come over. You finding more and more reasons to host them. Simon doesn’t mind and you definitely don’t.

#fanfic #call of duty #ghost #ghost cod #simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon riley x reader #cod smut #ghost x reader #simon riley smut #tf 141 x reader #tf141 smut #tf 141 #tf141 x you #cod mw2 #cod mwii #mw2 #ghostsoap #simon riley x you

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xo-codbby · 2 months ago

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blue-collar!141 x reader

continued

when you managed to get the number to their service from a friend, you didn't expect too much. just 4 men, an ordinary team. and you needed someone to repair the damages to your house, the entire thing needing to be constructed from the start

it's only when they arrived, your friend had failed to mention just how big and broad they were. like walking tanks, their presence demanding attention as you explained while they listened intently. catching a few of their eyes flickering to your lips and then back up as you tried to maintain your composure. they were 100% your type and you desperately wished you had met any under different circumstances but this had to be professional. any other thoughts had to be shut down immediately

soap and ghost work in sleeveless vests, price had his shirt off. you know how it gets, the england sun (no matter how rare) was too hot for him to work in and gaz with his top unbuttoned, showing off his chest. yeah it might've been a little unprofessional but the job was still getting done, did it matter so much?

a pretty thing like you didn't need to offer them anything but they were so grateful for it either way. and they were very professional at first, purely focusing on the task at hand. but slowly when you started to offer them drinks and snacks, letting them wash off the dust and grime off of their bulging muscles, the lines were a little blurred

it was taking weeks, some parts of you wondered if they were doing it purposely. needing four hands for a one man job but you grew to become fond of their company, becoming acquainted to friends.

"s'too dusty f'you to be here, hen" soap's drawl fills your ears as you hold a tray of iced drinks and some food. they were big men, they needed bigger portions of food to eat. you watched them pause on their equipment, watching as johnny leans in to give a side hug. his musk permeated the air but funnily enough you don't mind, not a bit. it makes you hang on a little closer subconsciously and a soft sound from him emanated, his hands squeezing your waist a little before he reached for a drink.

"yeah, don't want you to start sneezing here sweetheart" gaz smiles softly, the back of his finger gently smoothing your cheek for a moment before he holds the tray off from you. dirt marks stain his cheekbones, dust clinging to his skin but you don't think he could look any better, under the sun and sweating. it's hard to take your eyes off the men as you offer a soft laugh, mumbling a response as you avert your eyes. hoping they don't see how flush you look

"y'mind checking on ghost for us, pretty?" price whispers too close to your ear, his hand coming to touch your shoulder. you can feel the warmth coming from his palm, from working or the sun you're not too sure but it makes you feel weak. his lips curved into a gentle smile, looking at you with amusement flickering in his eyes. the little crinkle you've grown to admire everytime as you tried to compose yourself. maybe the sun was doing you more damage than you thought

"of course" your answer came next, blowing out a soft breath when you turned. feeling the gentle touch of his hand against the small of your back, fingers softly stroking the skin for a second but it was nothing, it had to have been nothing

you entered your home, coming up the stairs. about to knock until the bathroom door unlocks and opens. and there, ghost stood in all his glory. the towel hangs dangerously low on his hips, exposing the v line you desperately wanted to touch. you can barely catch your breath, feeling overwhelmed from the sun and their presence. watching his muscles shining with water drops, the steam rising from his skin. the tattoos shining along with the scars he had littered on his skin

"y'lookin' f'me, doll?" his deep baritone voice caresses your senses and your throat dries up for a second, unable to speak. just wanting to appreciate him and his body. his hand squeezes your shoulder so softly, his body pressed against yours for a moment too long. you can feel his palm trail across your waist, his scent sparking heat straight to your core. without all the dust on his face, without the black mask he wore, you get to see all his features and it makes you shiver at how gorgeous he seemed to look. his gaze is much more intimate and he only offers you a half smile, eyes glinting before he straightened up and headed to the other room to change. not before skimming his lips across your forehead, your body tense wanting to follow him to get out of your clothes and feel what you've been aching for all this time

but it was all professional, it had to have been. right?

#simon ghost riley #simon ghost x reader #cod 141 #simon riley x reader #john price #kyle gaz garrick #simon riley x y/n #141 x reader #gaz x reader #simon riley x you #soap x reader #john soap mactavish #john price x reader

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whoreforgyu · 9 days ago

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pb&j

MDNI 18+

✌︎ pairing; neighbor!kim mingyu x fem!reader

✍︎ genre; smut, neighbors to lovers, au, fluff

ⓘ tldr; after finally mustering up the courage to ask your fine ass neighbor for help opening a jar of raspberry jelly, he makes sure to fill yours up with some cream by the end of the night 😏

⚠︎ warnings; under 21 drinking (20yrs but turning 21 in a few days (& dw even though i am 19 i don’t drink personally, this is just for the fic 😭)), mingyu has a slight thing for older girls, mingyu is a sophomore and reader is a junior in college, mentions of ‘95 liners, awkward reader, mentions of food, lowercase intentional

✎ note; i’m a new writer so this is my first fic let me know how i did 🫣 got the idea to write this after i spent all night trying to open up this jar of coconut oil from trader joe’s lol 😭

⇅wc; 2.4k

after what felt like an eternity of twisting, turning, and damn near college level research on how to open a glass jar, what are the odds that not a single thing has worked.

“run it under some hot water” they said.

“tap the lid with a heavy object to break the seal” they said.

“slap the bottom with the palm of your hand” they said.

but despite the hundreds of google searches and youtube videos you’ve watched, the tin lid to your jar of organic raspberry jelly hasn’t budged an inch.

“ugh!” you screeched, nearly throwing the damn thing at the wall. but you would much rather go to bed hungry than have to clean up fruit preserves mixed with shards of glass from the ground, or even worse, eat a dry peanut butter sandwich without jelly.

now, was there a quick an easy solution that you have thought of, but didn’t dare to act upon? well, yes! but that would require having to interact with your fine ass, johnny bravo-esque, tank of a neighbor— mingyu. at first, that option was off the table, but soon hunger got the best of you.

so here you are, standing in front of apartment 406 in some skimpy boy shorts that expose wayyy to much ass and a sweater, holding the infamous jar of raspberry jelly.

*knock, knock, knock*

the apartment goes silent, you feel nervous as the sound of foot steps walk up to the door, pause, and a zipper opens moments before hearing the lock turn. your cheeks heat up at the sight of him in a tank top with grey sweats. trying to stop yourself from ogling at his biceps, triceps, and quadriceps on full display, and you peep how his matching grey hoodie is coincidentally hanging from the coat rack.

the smell of sweet and savory spices bless your nose, if there’s one thing about mingyu, that man could cook. sometimes he’ll hand deliver you a bowl of whatever food he’s making, under the pretense of, “i made extra,” as opposed to “i was thinking about you, so i made a larger portion just to share with you.” and you swear he’s ruined your whole perception of food, you can’t help but think about how much better everything would taste if mingyu was the one who made it instead.

“oh hey _____, is everything alright?” he asked, looking up and down your figure, taking notice of the jar of jelly in your hand.

“yup!” you say awkwardly, accidentally look down at his man-cleavage “i just wanted to know if you could open this for me please?” an innocent grin plays on your lips as you shove the jar towards him, trying to ignore the way he was staring at them.

he laughs while gripping the jar and lid, twisting them in opposite directions before hearing a-

*pop*

“there ya go,” he says, handing back the jar. you sigh of relief before thanking him and turning to walk back to into your apartment, all while feeling a pair of eyes burning into your ass.

“y’know,” he blurts out. stopping you in your tracks, turning around to listen to him. mingyu couldn’t help but trip over his words at the sight of your doe eyes looking expectantly at him. “i’m making dinner right now, n’ i was just about to bring some over to you,” the tips of his ears now turning red, “but- i mean, since you’re already here, would you mind joining me?”

“yes!- i mean no- like no as in i wouldn’t mind,” shit, you think to yourself, what the fuck am i saying?

“okay perfect” mingyu says trying to hold back his smile (you know that cute 😗 face he makes), letting you into his apartment, allowing himself a closer look at your ass.

to no surprise, his apartment layout was an exact copy of yours, only furnished to his liking, of course. a dark stained wooden coffee table accompanied by a matching tv console, upholding a flatscreen tv and ps5, and a dark blue ribbed suede couch. hm, interesting.

“almost done, just need to finish sautéing these veggies,” he says now facing the stovetop, and you take the opportunity to get a real good look at his back muscles. you’re so glad you got front row seats to see them, since the view through the peephole of your door every time he came back from the gym wasn’t cutting it.

“could you help set up the table?” mingyu turns off the stove and grabs some plates and glasses from the cabinet above, breaking you out of your trance.

“yea, of course” you squeak, hoping he hadn’t noticed the way you were drooling over him just then. you set down the jar of jelly you, for some reason, still had in your hands on to the counter, and grabbed the placemats, utensils, and glasses from the drawers mingyu directed you to. he brings over the dishes and sets them onto the table before going back to grab a bottle of wine.

“you drink?” he asked raising a brow.

“not really, but i don’t mind having a glass,”

“how old are you?” he questioned.

“twenty one, how ‘bout you?” you wary.

“twenty.” he replied. there’s a brief moment of silence between you two before he’s sporting a stupid grin, like he knows he’s doing something he’s not supposed to, waiting to see your reaction.

“so where the hell did you get that from?” you pressed, raising your voice, baffled by his audacity to ask for your credentials when he, himself, isn’t even qualified.

“a frienddd~” his tone playful as he laughs. “relax, i consider this my early birthday gift, i’ll be twenty one on the sixth of this month.”

you think it must be from one of of his older friends, specifically seungcheol or jeonghan, those dudes from your engineering class who come by often, not that you’re keeping count. you sigh, you can’t blame him. you’ve had your own fair share of alcohol during your birthday party that you celebrated the weekend before your twenty first, especially since you could not afford to get lit on the wednesday night before your exam.

“fine,” you gave a tight lipped smile as mingyu pours you both a glass, starting to loosen up as alcohol soon calms your nerves.

“wanna watch that new ‘baby reindeer’ series, i heard it’s crazy as shit!” mingyu laughs, as you two are finishing dinner.

“ yeah i’ve been meaning to start! just haven’t gotten around to it,” you finish up the rest of the bottle, while mingyu takes the dishes to load them up into the dishwasher. you grab the remote turning on the television, and plop down on the couch, briefly pausing to remind yourself that this isn’t your place, but he sure does make you feel like it.

after drying off his hands mingyu plopped himself right beside you, leaving only about an inch or two in between, and smoothly snakes his arm around you, being careful not to make contact though. you laugh to yourself at how respectful he’s trying to be, and wonder if he’s truly oblivious to the not so respectful feelings you have towards him.

half way through the first episode, you can’t help but feel warm, almost hot due to his body heat. his scent isn’t helping either, he smells like fresh clean laundry and natural musk. you want to study his face now that you’re up close, but it’d be too obvious, he’d notice right? wrong, frankly, his ass is not paying attention to you, so you take initiative and scoot closer into his touch, resting your head onto his shoulder, smirking at the sudden tension of his body.

“you alright?” mingyu speaks lowly into your hair, subconsciously helping himself to your scent. turning down the volume on the tv, he tilts his head to hold your gaze, dammit, there she goes again with those eyes, he curses. swiftly glancing at your lips, and back up to your eyes, it’s like he can read your mind. cautiously, lowering his hand to your ass, he helps you onto his lap. “whatchu tryna get into?” mingyu teases.

“i dunno know you tell me, you’re the one who’s got me on their lap” you tease back giggling while biting your lip.

mingyu uses his teeth to now bite your lip between his before kissing you deeply. he couldn’t wait for the day he could he could get his lips on your pretty plump ones. not a day goes by where he doesn’t think about getting the chance to mess with his pretty ass little neighbor.

whimpering at the sensation of his sunken fangs into your lip, you quickly match his energy, grinding your dampening cunt against his growing erection. his hands now gripping your ass like a vice, increasing the relentless speed and friction between you two. hand nearly getting crushed in the process, you reach between your bodies to free his now rock hard cock from his sweats, beginning to stroke him while slowing down to a more sensual pace. he breaks the kiss, letting out a loud whine as you spread the bead of precum, focusing right on the tip, and dip the pad of your thumb right into the dimple before rubbing circles around it.

mingyu’s body shudders as he throws his head back in ecstasy, blabbering a whole bunch of nonsense, while you lick and bite the sensitive skin from his collarbone all the way to his jaw. continuing to stroke his aching cock, “ah! ouu~ shit- baaabe- baby oh! fuuuuck~ m’ boutta-” are the only coherent words he’s able to slew before you cease all movement. his head shoots up, wide eyed as he looks at you as if your head’s missing.

you give him a sweet— almost taunting, smile before reaching under his tank to reveal his sculpted torso, chest rising and falling as you scrape your nails against every nook and cranny of his flesh. you lean forward to give a few licks and and sucks to each of his nipples. mind you, the man is still staring at you in disbelief. giving a sinister laugh, he holds you by your hips and and in one swift movement, shifts his body under you, so instead of sitting on his lap, you’re now sitting on his face.

mingyu wastes no time lapping at the mere outline of your pussy, desperately sucking your arousal through the fabric of your shorts. like a rabid dog he rips through the fabric with his teeth, lips immediately latching onto your clit like a vacuum. you let out a loud cry desperately grabbing fistfuls of his hair as a poor attempt to ground yourself before he’s gripping your waist, gliding your cunt alllll over his face.

“gy-gyuuu~” you whine, your legs starting to shake as you the feel pressure building up in your core. your thighs now locked tight around his head, you’re scared you may suffocate him but you’re far to worried about reaching your own orgasm to stop. “mmmph~ shiiit pleaseee~ oh my- no gyu! piece of shit!” you scream, as mingyu removes himself from under you, a shit eating grin playing on his lips, his face covered in your juices.

you squeal as mingyu rips off any and every remnant of clothing you still had on, and throws you over his shoulder— face down ass up, giving it a quick harsh slap before heading into his bedroom. throwing you down on the bed, he immediately attaches his lips to yours as he slips his thick middle and ring fingers inside of you, curling them just enough to make you cum better than any one of your pathetic toys ever could. if he could give you mind blowing orgasms just with his fingers, just imagine what universe he’d take you to on his cock.

mingyu teases your entrance with his fat tip, gliding it along your wet folds. his cock was looong, thick, and heavy, a vein running along the left side of the shaft. it felt like steel wrapped in velvet. he begins pushing his way into you, nothing could prepare you for the stretch he gave, he felt invasive, greedy, selfish. invading any space he could find inside your small tight cunt.

“just hold on to me baby,” he growls in you ear, his breathing ragged as he bottoms out, pelvis right against your ass. the man desperately trying to help himself from releasing right then and there at the feeling of your wet pudgy walls sucking him in, as if your body was trying to create a mold of his cock to remember forever.

your legs wrap tight around his torso, nails digging into his broad shoulders as he’s rutting into you like a dog in heat. he desperately pants, holding another vice-like grip onto your hips, the combination of your pornographic moans and walls beginning to clench and spasm around him making his cock twitch inside you like a bolt of lightning.

not even science can measure the amount of pent up tension that has built up in your core, the feeling painfully delicious. the sharp thrusts of his cock soon becoming sloppy as you feel him starting to shudder once again, his mouth now on your neck, sucking harshly at the flesh. he brings his hand down to your cunt, beginning to rub messy circles onto your clit making you cry out, sending you over the edge.

the knot in your abdomen comes un done, feeling like an explosion as mingyu shoots what felt like the entirety of earth’s population into your poor pussy. your body goes numb, your vision, seemingly no different than looking out of a kaleidoscope, seeing shapes and colors you didn’t even know existed.

mingyu lays on top of you, cock still sunken deep inside as if he’s trying to fertilize each one of your millions of eggs, his heavy breathing sinking you into the mattress even deeper than you were before. looking up he sees your fucked out state, locking eyes with you before giving you the filthiest smile you’ve ever seen.

you smile back, matching his same filth, before pulling him into another heated make out session. “ready for round two?”

#seventeen #seventeen smut #seventeen x reader #svt #svt x reader #svt imagines #mingyu #kim mingyu #mingyu x reader #kim mingyu smut #mingyu fanfic #mingyu x y/n #seventeen x y/n #seventeen imagines #seventeen au #mingyu au

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kociarz200rawr · 2 months ago

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HELP i had to do this gacha trend with them its so funny to me

ophie: 🚶

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slater-baby · 6 months ago

Note

i keep thinking how funny it’d be to be working out or training with ghost and just staring at his chest (cause it’s right there) and being convinced that his chest is bigger than yours

I know you probably thought of this as a cute scenario but........this turned out super horny alkjdflkjaf I apologize profusely

Tags: Simon Riley x f!reader, ogling, suggestive comments (without explicit consent), elements of hypermasculinity, flirting, semi-public fingering, Simon and Reader are both perverts

*DESCRIPTION HEAVY*

Word count: 6k

Sweat trailed down your forehead, the small droplets falling from your nose with every thrust of the barbell. You grunt as you shove your hips up, feeling the strain up the back of your legs, and with a final, triumphant noise, you drop the weight back to the floor. With one shaking hand, you wipe your face from your forehead to your neck, grimacing when you see the darkened spots on your sports bra.

Fuck, you pant, lifting your arms, How was it even possible for an armpit to sweat this much?

Lazily, you roll your eyes, shimmying out from under the bar. You go through the motions, re-racking each plate while taking leisurely sips from your bottle. However, just when you begin wiping down your bench, a hand slaps you on the back nearly hard enough to send you face-planting into the leather.

“Soap—” you grunt, pawing at your back like an idiot when you turn to face the man, “What was that—”

“Nothin’, Lass,” he chuckles, sidestepping your attempted swat to reach for the dumbbells, “Just wanted to say that was some good shit there,” he points towards where you were sitting just minutes earlier, “New PR, was it?��

“Not really,” you pant, “But it’s better than last week.”

Before Soap can even answer, you spin dazedly in the mirror, groaning when you see the wet palm print he left against the back of your bra. In the reflection, you can see Johnny’s face contort into a snort when he sees it, too. You send him a deadpan look just for that.

Ugh, you shudder, grimacing at the feeling of Soap’s sweat against your back, Even if I sweat like a pig, at least I don’t sweat like these boys…

Just to make yourself feel better about your soaked bra and leggings, you spare a glance at Kyle and Johnny, both of whom are flexing in the mirror between camera flashes, veiny arms shaking with the strain it takes to get the perfect Instagram story. However, judging by the way they hunch over the phone like a pair of pouting little boys between each photo, it’s not going too well.

“God,” you say, loud enough for Soap to hear, “If you’re gonna sweat that much, can you at least contain it to your side of the gym? I’m just an innocent bystander…”

“Dinnae mean to catch you in the crossfire, lass,” Soap turns then, hands on his hips. His tank top—ripped from beneath his arms to his waistline—is plastered to his chest and practically see through. His mohawk is limp against his scalp, idly dripping sweat into his eyelashes. And even Kyle, who had the sense to take his shirt off before the temperature reached sweltering levels, was still flushing with heat from the doglegs around his neck to the old sneakers on his feet.

Compared to them, you look like you’d taken a short walk in the rain. The two of them might as well pass themselves off as wet dogs.

“Just tryna tell you m’proud of you,” he stares down at you from beneath a curtain of sweaty eyelashes, “What? That illegal or something?”

You scoff with a smirk, shoving him away before his muscular arms can envelop you in a sweat-slick hug.

“It is from you, MacTavish,” you giggle, swiping your water bottle off of the bench, “You just wanna cop a handful.”

“What?” Soap calls after you as you walk back towards the benches, “Just sayin’, Lassie…keep liftin’ like that ’n you’ll have the best arse on the squad…”

With every step you take, you swear that you can feel Soap’s eyes glued onto your swaying hips and ass, looking his eyeful and then some. You can’t help but roll your eyes at his antics.

Fuckin’ dog, you laugh in your head.

“Yeah, and you’d just love that, wouldn’t you, Soap?” You fire back.

“Whatever,” the scot yells back, shaking his head as he pulls a dumbbell off the rack, “You basterds just don’t appreciate my expertise…”

“Your expertise?” You laugh, turning on your heel just to send Johnny a suggestive waggle of your eyebrows.

“Careful, Lassie,” Soap quirks his head while he curls the dumbbells, winking at you in the reflection as another drop of sweat crests the edge of his hairline, “Or ye just might get what yer askin’ for.”

“Soap,” you fake a gag, “How many times do I have to say ‘I love you like a brother’ before you stop hitting on me?”

“Brother,” he grunts with another curl, “Or step-brother?”

At that, your jaw drops, and you don’t miss the way Kyle’s eyes go wide the next time he hits the flash. When he turns to Soap, he’s got a hand clapped over his mouth, stifling howling laughter. If you weren’t so shocked, you might have been laughing just as hard.

“Neither,” you grimace, shaking your head, “God, Soap…you’re disgusting.”

“Tell that to the girl I had last night,” he chuckles, laughter transforming into a low groan with another rep. Instantly, a small chorus of joking gags resounds around your small group, the loudest of all being Gaz, who ambles over to Soap with his hands on his hips.

“Trust me,” Kyle shakes his head, “I fuckin’ heard. Wouldn’t be surprised if the entire barracks could hear it last night,” he snags his shirt off of the bench, walking behind Soap to whip the fabric across his back like a horse crop. Soap shocks forward at the feeling of it, nearly dropping his weight in the process. While you hide your giggles behind your hand, Johnny only frowns into the streaky mirror.

“Wasn’t that loud…” he pouts. His voice is much lower than before.

“‘Wasn’t that loud?’” Gaz deadpans, “It was bouncin’ off the fucking walls, mate—and you were moanin’ louder than she was!!”

Instantly, laughter overcomes every gym goer within earshot, and instantly, Johnny has to drop his dumbbells just to process what Kyle had just said to him. You would have noticed the cold shadow enveloping you from behind if you weren’t so busy wheezing at the look on Johnny’s face.

“Ay—you lot quiet down,” Ghost barks from his position behind you, “Can barely hear my own fuckin’ thoughts.”

“Yeah,” Gaz smirks, “That’s about how loud it was last night.”

“Now yer just takin’ the piss, Gaz,” Soap gripes loudly.

“Soap,” Ghost barks, instantly shutting down the conversation, “Stop exposing your porn history in the gym. Swear to god,” he shakes his head, “Everything I fuckin’ know about you’s been against my will.”

“Hate me that much, sir?” Soap grunts.

“Depends,” Ghost cocks his head, steely eyes pointed resolutely at Soap, “How badly do you wanna get written up, sergeant?”

Idly, you purse your lips, watching the drama unfold with nothing more than a bat of your sweat-slick eyelashes. For a moment, the silence continues, a simmering tension filling the air between the two officers. Weirdly, you can’t help but think that it’s something of a bastardized stand-off—like two bulls locking horns in a stalemate. However, as much as you love Soap, you had to admit he was barking up the wrong tree. Beneath the towering lieutenant, Soap looked more like a fledgling puppy than the grisly wolf he hoped he was, and unfortunately for him, the Alpha male didn’t have a problem with biting though a few throats just to get a couple minutes of peace and quiet.

At the mental image, you snort.

Men, you muse, craning your neck to look at where Ghost stands behind you, Always manage to turn everything into a pissing contest.

“No, sir, LT,” Soap submits, voice lowering.

“Good,” Ghost sighs behind you, ambling back towards the machine he’d been working on, “Too hot for this shite anyway…”

With that, the four of you ease back into a comfortable silence, nothing more than the ambient music and the clacking of steel to fill the air. Soap continues with his set, Kyle fiddles with his earbuds, and Ghost hunkers back down on his bench. Your eyebrows raise when you hear how the leather squeaks under his weight.

God, you muse, inconspicuously watching him crack his neck, Just how big was that man?

You’d been in the 141 for a few years now, but even so, the initial officers’ meeting was anything but a forgotten memory. That day, you’d been sitting in the conference room waiting for your contract offer, sweating under the collar of your pressed uniform, leg bouncing so violently that you were sure your kneecap would be swollen by the end of it.

You’d been expecting some white-haired officer to meet you in the conference room. That, or some young secretary whose whole job was to send emails and peruse their Amazon shopping cart when they were on the clock. However, when two thirty-something, dressed down operators walked into the room—t-shirts clinging to their swollen biceps like they’d just walked off the cover of a magazine—it was safe to say you were entirely speechless.

You’d shaken their hands with clammy palms, practically trembling beneath their steely gazes and baritone voices. Price—whose mustache you were silently marveling at the entire meeting—eased your nerves without breaking a sweat. Naturally homely and charming, it wasn’t long before your jitters disappeared around him altogether.

However, the man at his side, darkened eyes hidden within the shadows of a skull mask, had had your nerves singing like a church choir for months on end.

For the first few days, you’d almost thought it was coincidence, the way he’d show up around every corner and turn, barricading your path with his barrel chest and veiny arms. The first time you’d ran into him in the hallway, you’d practically whimpered when you nearly ran into the broad expanse of his shoulders, barely able to muster a stuttered apology before you were running off, hiding behind your manila files just so you wouldn’t have to stare into those alarmingly pretty eyes any longer.

How was it fair, you’d lamented the first time you ran into him, That a guy who was as scary as that had eyes the color of a sparkling ocean?

It just didn’t make any sense. And for weeks, you’d walked the halls in constant fear of both his attention and his praise, shrinking into your uniform any time he so much as looked in your direction. Perhaps it was a fawn response (it had to be), but something inside of you heart yearned for his wordless stares and rejected them all the same, like a seed that your body just refused to take.

It was only after he’d cornered you one day that your ill-fated game of hide and seek had come screeching to a halt.

You’d been exiting the conference room, trying to hustle back to the barracks before Ghost could catch the timid expression on your face, only for the door to slam shut in front of you before you could even reach the handle. Ghost had stepped in front of you, cocking his head in a gesture that was so backbreaking you actually released a small squeak at the sight of him in front of you.

“Um—LT?” You’d asked him, voice barely audible.

“Are you scared of me?”

Dumbly, you’d blinked blankly, staring at his collarbones like the answer to all of your problems could be found therein (because you still couldn’t look him in the eye without feeling like your entire skeleton was shuddering in terror at the sensation). And as you stood there, biting your lip nearly hard enough to draw blood, you’d only had the brain power to dazedly admit that he had beautiful collarbones.

They peeked out from beneath the collar of his shirt, the fabric wrinkled in the middle of the chest from the wrought plains of muscle across his torso. In the center, the hem of the collar dipped from the strain of his muscle mass on the shirt, and just underneath the glinting metal of his dog tags, you could see the defined lines of his collarbones—skin smooth and scarred, shining with a few droplets of dew.

Idly, you’d imagined that’s where he sprayed his cologne when he got ready in the morning, and yet, standing so close to him like this, the notes of his scent were delightfully complex. From the acrid, lingering traces of tobacco, to the clean smell of his shampoo, only the barest hint of fragrance remained, buried beneath the heady musk and sweat of a man on the job.

It was something icy, virile, and so, so dreadfully intoxicating.

Seconds had passed. He’d cleared his throat. But with your head spinning, lost in the daze of his misplaced male pride, there was only one thought that crossed your mind: He’s wearing Polo Black. Definitely.

Needless to say, when you’d finally managed to find your words, he had been woefully unimpressed.

“What…?” You’d mustered, unblinking.

“Are you scared of me or something? It seems like every time I need to talk to you you go scurrying off somewhere. So tell me, sergeant, you got a problem or something?” He’d pressed, unconsciously crossing his arms.

And after that, his words might as well have gone in one ear and straight out the other, because your attention was focused anywhere but on his moving mouth. No, your eyes were centered straight on where the edge of his wrist bones cut into the plush muscle of his pecs. The indents they made were looked soft to the touch, like a cushion just waiting to be squeezed. And while his voice slowly transformed into TV static inside of your mind, yet another unwitting thought went speeding through your brain.

I wouldn’t mind using him as a pillow, your mind croons, practically batting your lashes.

And eventually, when the pillowy surface of his chest had been adequately committed to your memory, your eyes had fallen to his arms.

God, his biceps.

You could have started purring just at the sight of them. Throughout your enlistment, you’d been surrounded by no shortage of well-built men. If anything, there was an overabundance of them. The boys practically grew on trees at this point, and once you’d grown out of basic, you’d quickly stopped fawning over veiny forearms and bulging muscles.

Well, that wasn’t entirely accurate, per se. On one hand, the majority of the men you worked with looked like they could pick up a car barehanded, and once everyone achieved that feat, it therefore ceased to be one altogether. And yet…there was something about how soft hard earned muscle became when it was bare and flushed, when it was sweaty and panting, whispering low words in your ears between each and every thrust.

Absently, you’d felt heat climb into your cheeks, heart beat racing.

Maybe it was the fact that you’d just taken this position—a position on a squad that had never had a female recruit until you came around—that you feel this way. Between the missions, the training, the briefs, paperwork and coffee runs, there wasn’t much to do aside from collapse into your bunk and wait for morning to come. The walls were thin and privacy was scarce. Hell, with the lack of estrogen on base, the female locker rooms and showers were decidedly cramped, and the only “personal time” you’d been able to snag had been in a bathroom stall with the gusset of your training suit pulled to the side.

Yeah.

Maybe that was it.

Maybe that’s why you could practically imagine it, the slick swipe of his skin over yours, fingers tracing each and every vein of those mysterious tattoos, while he put those sweat-slick muscles to work in between your spread thighs.

His voice would be raspy and deep, low and barely noticeable. But maybe if you hooked your legs around his waist, maybe if you managed to look him in the eye for once, he’d all but crumble inside of your embrace. Warm skin, beating heart, darkened eyes—everything. As much as they terrified you, you couldn’t stop yourself from imagining them in a different light—a light in which they were wholly and utterly yours. That skin, bare and shining, from his thick neck to those criminally slim hips, moving against your own. That pulse racing against your chest, hitching with every move of his pelvis. And those eyes, locked onto your bouncing tits and burning flesh, lost in just as much of a trance as you found yourself in right now.

Does he drink protein powder?

You couldn’t help but wonder. After all, how did someone get that big unless they were packing on protein like it was going out of fashion? He must eat like a horse. A very big, very muscle-y, very well endowed—

“Sergeant? Are you listening?” His voice had shocked you out of your reverie, and your head had begun to spin when your feet finally hit the ground.

“Um—yes?” You’d asked him, inconspicuously shifting on your feet to ease the wet ache between your thighs.

“So what is it then?” He’d huffed, voice stiff—almost as if he were pouting, “Is there a problem or no?”

“There’s…” you take a deep breath, swallowing as you tried valiantly to stop your eyes from slipping back onto his covetable muscles, “There’s no—no problem.”

“So,” he’d shook his head, almost as if he was perplexed by your answer, “There’s no problem? None at all?”

He’d leaned down then, looking at you with all the blue eyes and wispy blonde lashed your midnight fantasies ever could have conjured. Truthfully, you can’t be blamed for the tiny squeak you’d released when it’d happened.

“Nope,” you’d answered dumbly, looking over his shoulder just so you wouldn’t stare down his shirt instead.

“Good,” he’d stepped back, pulling open the door, “Then I’ll see you for tea tomorrow morning?”

“Tea?” You’d blanked.

“Yeah…” he’d scrunched his brows so hard you could see it even beneath the mask, “It’s just…” he'd pursed his lips, and his pupils had dragged over you from head to toe, lingering just a little too long on where the buttons of your shirt stretch around your bra, “Figured you and I should get to know each other. One on one. Just to communicate effectively in the workplace, y'know?”

“Oh—” you’d faked understanding, nodding your head like it’d do something, “Oh, yeah, definitely. See you tomorrow morning then.”

“See ‘ya.”

And when the door had slowly closed behind him, you would be lying if your stare didn’t drop straight to his backside as he walked away. Deadpan, you’d leant up against the wall, rubbing your thighs together to gauge how wet your panties were.

Fuck.

Of course he had to have a nice ass, too.

And like that, you find yourself staring into space once more, unconsciously lifting your water bottle to your lips like you hadn’t drank the last few drops ten minutes ago. When a low noise emits to your left, however, you finally find the sense of mind to ground yourself, looking down at yourself in a daze.

“Fuck,” you mumble under your breath, eyeing the glistening spots of sweat underneath your arms. Idly, you walk over towards the weight rack, snagging your towel off it to wipe over your face.

God, the boys might be going stir crazy without any recent assignments, but they were definitely right about one thing: it was dreadfully hot in here. The air conditioner on base always got a bit finicky around the summer months, but it’d never been this bad before. Maybe all those years of strain had finally taken their toll. You sigh as you rub the towel against your hands, lifting it to your face next to wash the sweat out of your eyelashes.

However, the second your vision is covered, another low noise bellows from the side.

“Fuck, it’s too goddamn hot in here.”

You drop the towel.

You nearly go blind with what you see next.

Ghost, chest rising and falling with every harsh pant he makes, pants dangerously low around his hips and shirt curled around two of his fingers, just barely exposing a pair of defined hipbones that disappear into the waistband of his joggers. Without even noticing, saliva begins to collect on your tongue, especially when you spot the blonde trail of hair that sinks into the hem of his trousers.

Fuck, you curse without thinking, eyes unwittingly drawn to the spectacle when he yanks his T-shirt over his head.

And within an instant, it’s revealed to you.

The promised land, you’re sure.

Because his chest is just as soft and plush as you thought it would be, all but dripping with sweat, and when a single droplet makes it down the valley of his pecs, leaving slick lines all the way down the velvety expanse of his abs, you would be lying if you said your mouth wasn’t going dry.

Without even blinking, you clumsily raise your water bottle to your lips, trying desperately to summon even a single ounce of liquid to cure the blazing heat that overcomes your body at the sight of him.

With another crack of his neck, Simon sits back down on the bench, leaning comfortably into the backrest. And when he sits down—a tiny grunt emitting from his covered mouth—any hope of hiding your shock is erased within a single second. Because, just like any other man, he spreads his legs around the leather, giving you an uninterrupted view of the heavy bulge between his thighs.

Unconsciously, you drop your bottle, unable to tear you eyes away—especially when he reaches for his waistband to readjust it.

His stomach flexes as he straightens up, the veins in his biceps and hands shifting as he carefully shuffles the band down a bit further around his hips, exposing the black, sweat-drenched boxer band beneath his pants. He sighs, and the fabric snaps back to his body. But when he reaches between his legs to pick up the first dumbbell, the side of his palm just barely brushes over the front of his pants.

You bite through the skin on your lips, crossing your arms to watch as he heaves two gigantic dumbbells into his arms. He lifts them like they’re nothing more than paperweights, something he could throw around without even breaking a sweat.

But that’s not the whole truth of it. It’s not. Because he is breaking a sweat. And, god, if he didn’t look good coated in a glistening layer of it, smelling like every bit of the hardworking man that he was.

Dazed, you lean to place your hand on the rack, having to steady yourself on your feet when you miss it on the first try. You watch as he shifts into an incline chest press.

With every push of the weight, the muscles of his chest jump and twitch, flexing with the practiced motion, like the rippling waves on an icy sea.

Up and down.

The dumbbells are so big they nearly overshadow the length of his forearms in their entirety. But, somehow, you find another way to get your fill.

His stomach.

His happy trail.

His hips, biceps, and pecs.

Fuck.

His chest is heaving with every thrust now, hips jumping against the seat—all too similar to how you imagine he looks when he’s laid up in the barracks, hand beneath his waistband, chasing a high that even the gym couldn’t gratify.

And, god, that opens a whole new can of worms, one that your mind doesn’t hesitate to run free with.

What did Ghost look like when he touched himself?

You bite your lip, vision blurring.

He’d look just like he does on the bench, the lines of his abs disappearing and reappearing with every gasping breath. Small groans—not unlike the raspy moans that escape his mouth on the next rep—muffled under his mask while he looked at what he was doing to himself, at how his body was reacting to his own stimuli.

And in your heart—in the very depths of your soul—you just know that it’s big. The bulge between his legs didn’t hide any secrets, and when his thighs jump at the strain, you swear you can see the way his flesh moves beneath the shoddy fabric.

For possibly the hundredth time in the past minute alone, your eyes drag down the blonde hair on his stomach. Down, down, down. All the way down to where it leads into his boxer band, just barely out of view.

It’s matted to his stomach with sweat, shiny and golden. And yet, your mind doesn’t fail to twist even that mundane detail into something else entirely.

What did it look like when he was stroking himself, body heaving with pent up energy and testosterone, precum leaking down onto his swollen balls, signaling his impending release?

What did it look like when he finally got there, abs clenched in an unforgiving knot when he finally spilled over his own two hands, the droplets sticking to his sweaty chest and thighs?

What did it look like flecked with his own semen, his gruff moans the crescendo of the scene?

God, you lament, feeling yourself begin to leak in your panties. You should look away. You should gather your things and head back into the locker room. You should go back to your room and dig that dildo out of your pack, if only so that you could stop yourself from having such indecent thoughts about a close friend—one who just so happened to be your CO, as well.

However, when Simon drops the weight with a heavy clunk, sitting up against the bench, any thought of looking away goes flying out your mind.

Because then, his sore chest is exposed to you in all of its glistening glory. The muscles are pumped and flush with heat, reddened against the pale set of his skin tone from the exertion. Sparse hair—so blonde you would have seen right through it—decorates his skin, thinning into a small trail that leads from his sternum all the way down to his pants.

But what steals the show is the way they flex when he sits up, the way they squish between his arms when he picks up his water bottle once more. Not for the first time, you find yourself wondering just how soft they really are. If you pressed your fingers into them, would there be indents left? Would his skin carry the memory of your touch for even a single fleeting second?

It’s a heady thought, one that’s only made worse when he begins to drink from the water bottle, a small cascade of water mixing with the sweat on his chest.

Fuck, you think, looking down at your breasts. You looked good in this bra—Soap definitely had no problem telling you that—and for all intents and purposes, you had no reason to be dissatisfied with your own chest before.

But looking at Ghost like that, body swollen from adrenaline and exhaustion, the jokes just make themselves.

Fuck, you laugh in your mind, He’d probably need a bigger bra than me.

Forget about asses, Ghost might have the best rack on the team.

Somehow, you hope he realizes that. Lost in the color of his skin and sweat, you forget yourself, oblivious to everything aside from the slick collecting in your panties and the delicious redness on his pale skin.

That is, until his voice calls out for you gently—almost as if he didn’t want the others to hear.

“You good, sergeant?” He asks softly, cocking his head, “Looked like something caught your eye there for a minute…”

Instantly, your stomach drops and you fumble with your water bottle. You look down at the floor, trying to ignore the way your cunt clenches in between your legs.

“No, it’s—it’s nothing, LT,” you reply, shaking your head, “Just…at the rate you’re going, you’ll have the biggest boobs on the team soon.”

“Yeah?” He chuckles, but the smile he wears isn’t joking. No, it’s…insistent. Impatient. Teasing, “Worried I’ll take you out of first place?”

“Honestly?” This time, you purposefully look him over, heat rushing through your cheeks, “I think you’re running a close second. But don’t worry, LT,” you joke, smiling, “I’m not all that competitive. We can share the podium.”

“Hm,” he huffs, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his thighs, “Bloody shame, that.”

At that, you furrow your brows, confused.

“Why?” You ask.

“Nothin’ just…” his eyes flick up to meet your own, so dangerously dark you could drown in their depths, “Thought you might wanna compare. Y’know, just to make sure we’re both telling the truth. I mean…”

His gaze drops to your chest then, biting his cheek when he sees how droplets of sweat collect in the valley between your breasts.

“I dunno what you look like beneath that bra, sweetheart,” he comments, “Ain’t it a little unfair? That you know what I look like without a shirt, but I’ve never seen you without one?”

At his words, your jaw drops. Once again, just like that day in the conference room all those years ago, you find yourself speechless, all but helpless to watch as he stands and comes closer. With every heavy step, the sheer mass of his muscles makes itself known. And when he stops just in front of you, the musk of his perspiration—a badge of his hard work in and of itself—envelops you like a fiery hug.

In a haze, you look up at him, feeling your core pulse when he pointedly dips his chin, looking down at the slopes of your breasts.

“Sure you wanna give up that easily?” He whispers, and his voice paints shivers up your spine. His head lolls the other direction, and at his side, he lifts one burly hand.

However, before he can touch you, your entire body is consumed with nerves. Without even thinking, you slap your hands down on his bare chest—a sound that (thankfully) Kyle and Johnny can’t hear over their own conversation—stopping him before the heat inside of your body can devour you once and for all.

“That’s—I’m really not that competitive. I mean, I—” your ramble breaks into a flustered giggle, and you step away from him awkwardly, “This bra—it’s…I’m pretty sweaty. It’s hot in here, isn’t it? God, the air conditioner must have broken or something.”

Your laughter is obnoxiously tense. So tense you swear you can see the confusion in his eyes.

“Just—I’m just gonna head to the locker room, and….change my clothes,” you huff, already walking away, “Uh—good job on your PR, LT. If you keep lifting like that—well…”

You snap you jaw shut before you can repeat Soap’s horrible line from earlier. At that, Simon’s hand drops lazily back to his side, head cocked—this time, in utter confusion.

“That wasn’t a PR,” he calls after you, but you’re already walking away, slamming the locker room door shut behind you before his horrible, stupid, delicious voice can follow you any longer.

For once, you thank the universe that there aren’t more women on base. Because the instant you burst through the doors, you have the locker room all to yourself. Panting, you collapse onto a bench, gripping the wooden seat like it might stop you from doing something you might regret.

Yet, your brain remains outside, back in the gym, with your bare hands against his naked chest, his body heat warming your palms like a hearth. And suddenly, it’s impossible to contain yourself any longer. Before you can stop yourself—before you can even think about what’s right and decent—you spread your legs on the bench, swiping a hand up against your clothed cunt.

And just like you suspected, your slick has already leaked through your panties and leggings, a barely noticeable dark spot over the front of your pants. Just at that singular touch, your body sings and your pussy aches for more. For something purposeful. For something harder. Thicker. Longer.

Your brain is overwhelmed with your own needs.

Water.

Touch.

Heat.

Love.

Him.

“God…” you curse, plunging your hands into your pants when it all becomes to much. Instantly upon spreading your folds, you find an unabashed swipe of slick. It paints over your knuckles from front to back, and your fingers barely have the grip to spread yourself long enough to circle your fingers around your clit.

“Fuck,” you moan quietly, but in the stark silence, each and every breath sounds like a bomb dropping.

Blood rushes straight to your core, and just when you finally manage to get a good rhythm, something hollow and aching cries out within you—something baser, something that was so innate it was only a part of your biology, not your person.

And it cries out for something more. For something to fill you—for him to fill you—if only so that the horrible emptiness in your cunt would fade back into the recesses of your body.

And yet, it doesn’t. It nags on your mind. Tugs on your heart. It screams and begs until rubbing at your clit feels pointless—until you relent with a bitten mewl, shoving two fingers inside of your dripping hole before you can think better of it.

At the sudden intrusion—however small and unsatisfying it may be—your body calms just the slightest bit. It’s just enough for you to shakily rest your heels on the edge of the bench, chin dropping to look down at where you brazenly touch yourself in the middle of the locker room. Slowly, you push in and out of yourself, watching your hand move beneath the soaked black fabric.

Just a bit more, you tell yourself with every push, Just enough to tie me over until I get back to the room.

But the longer you watch, the longer you sit there and try to fulfill a fantasy that’s impossible for only a single person to realize, the more desperate you become. And before you know it, tears spring to your eyes, frustration welling up inside of you.

Your fingers aren’t gonna cut it.

Whimpering, you bite your lip. The toy you kept in your room might do it. It wouldn’t be the same. No, it couldn’t even compare to a living, breathing person, but it was the best you were going to get. Hurriedly, you tug your hands out of your pants, swiping your fingers over your leggings in a haphazard attempt at cleaning them. You grab your things, making a beeline for the door.

—only to slam straight into a firm chest the minute you step outside the locker room.

Once again, you’re enveloped in that scent.

Tobacco.

Body wash.

Sweat.

Musk.

Man.

And before you can think better of it, you shakily raise your eyes, unable to hide the way your body thrums with discomfort and need when he overshadows you like this. Again, you’re swallowed up in everything that he is. His proximity, attention, and intensity. And mercilessly, he comes closer, sweat drying against his skin.

The gym is empty and quiet now.

It’s just the two of you, and the silence could not weigh heavier.

With a single look, he knows.

He knows what you need.

In the back of his throat, he makes a deep noise, one that reverberates in the very chambers of your heart. Before you can even stop him, he reaches out and delicately takes your hand into his. Experimentally, he brushes his thumbs over your knuckles, looking down at them intently.

“Is this sweat?” He says lowly, “Or something else?”

Your heart rate spikes when you look down at where he holds you—at where the few remaining lines of your own slick stain his fingertips. Useless, you struggle for your words, but your jaw can only open and close stupidly, completely inarticulate.

Watching the pitiful sight, a smirk overcomes his lips.

He drops your hands.

He plants his palm against the flat of your chest, right above your hardened nipples.

And when he slowly backs you up into the locker room once again, you can’t find it in yourself to push him away—especially not when he hooks his finger under the hem of your bra, tugging it down over your cleavage. He licks his lips when he sees the obscene way that the fabric indents the fat of your tits.

“Just need to make sure,” he tells you.

Notes:

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