#x force (2024)

[kiwicopia]

MDNI | Themetober: Tricked

Fae!Geto x Fem!Reader

CW: noncon/dubcon, kidnapping, imprisonment, chained reader, mentions of starvation/dehydration, mentions of impregnation, dacryphilia, cunnilingus, overstimulation, licking, biting, body worship, face fucking, sex against the wall, creampie.

tags: @sweetchildcloud

Themetober Masterlist

He had to give credit where it was due, truly. Not many humans could evade a fae for as long as you had, but even you had limits to this evasion. He just had to find them; however, he wasn’t as patient of a fae as he should have been. The desire to have you as his was overwhelming to the point that drastic measures had to be taken. One little slip-up was all he needed, and the very second it occurred, he whisked you away to his domain.

“Darling,” he cooed, dark eyes watching as you shied away from him. Your body moved further back in the cell, and the soft clinking of the chains caused the corners of his lips to twitch as he smiled. “It doesn’t have to be this way. Things would be easier if you would simply give in.” Geto inched closer to the bars of your cell, his fingers tightly wrapping around the cold metal as he rested his forehead against it. “You���re being childish.” 

You hadn’t eaten or drank anything in three days, having refused him each and every time he would bring you something—it was such a childish thing for you to do. His eyes lowered, squinting as he assessed your huddled form in the corner of your cell. Geto didn’t want things to be this way. He couldn’t understand why you resorted to such stubbornness, which only resulted in an inevitable deterioration of your body. 

The fae huffed in irritation, brows creasing as his mind came to a single conclusion: be forceful. Honestly, this was the last thing he wished to resort to, but he couldn’t think of any other way to make you see reason and listen to him. With a quick tap of his forefinger against a metal bar, the door to your cell opened and he stepped inside. Your wide, teary eyes watched as he came closer to you, causing you to squish yourself against the cold, hard wall of the cell. 

“You have left me no choice,” he said. Geto then snapped his fingers, causing the chains connecting you to the cell wall to quickly slide back, which lifted your body to your feet. He came closer, stopping a foot in front of you before reaching a hand out to gently caress your cheek. He thumbed a tear away, tutting softly before letting out a small sigh. “You’ll see reason soon enough.” 

Disgust bubbled in your stomach as his hand drifted from your face and down to your thigh. His other hand followed suit, and you squirmed as his fingers wrapped around the flesh beneath your tattered dress before forcing your legs apart. Geto hummed softly, his smile broadening as he lowered himself to his knees. 

“So beautiful,” he whispered. His thumbs rubbed gentle circles against the skin along your inner thighs before cupping the plump flesh and lifting your lower half up. It was just enough for him to roll his shoulders underneath your legs, situating them over his shoulders perfectly—though he still kept his hands cupped beneath your thighs. Geto’s lips kissed along the skin, trailing his movements further up to your awaiting cunt. “So beautiful, and all mine.” His nipped at your flesh, causing you to cry out before attempting to wriggle away from him. 

The fae tutted softly, shaking his head a little before tightening his grip on your thighs. You should know better than to refuse—not that you could if you tried. “Please,’ you begged. His eyes flitted up to your tear-filled expression. The way you cried and pleaded for him to stop brought forth a low rumble in his throat, as well as causing his cock to chub at the sight of more of your tears. You were so beautiful like this. Teary-eyed and pleading; a real sniffling mess as you attempted to wriggle away once more, but to no avail. “Please don’t—.” 

Your words died midsentence upon feeling his tongue lick a thick stripe along your folds, the tip curling slightly to catch your clit at the right angle. His ears rang with cries that spewed from your pretty lips, only to be ignored as he continued lapping at your cunt. The fae’s fingers dug into the flesh of your thighs to quell the constant squirming of yours as you tried pulling your hips back. Geto’s nose soon brushed against your bundle of nerves the further he pressed his face against your pussy, earning a shrill cry as you tossed your head back against the cell wall. 

He couldn’t hold back anymore. The soft slurps rang in your ears, and the fact that your body was so eager to wet itself with arousal as he pleased you felt so wrong. You didn’t want this, you never wanted this. But it felt good. No longer could your mind hold the disgust for what he was doing to you; that feeling now fading as a sick and twisted need for him to continue festered in its place. 

The second your hips began to grind against him, he knew. You were giving in, and he groaned softly as his cock twitched beneath the fabric of his pants. It ached to be free, to be deep inside of you, but not yet. Geto still needed you to give in entirely, and there was only one way to get that. His pace increased as his tongue delved past your folds, lapping up the slick that now coated his lips and chin as he feasted on you like a starved beast. 

His nails dug into your flesh the more you fucked yourself against his face, now whining and moaning for more. You needed more, wanted it, craved it, and he delivered. The fae held your lower half up as your body shook upon releasing a sudden, sharp cry. His dark eyes watched as your back arched while your senses flooded with pure ecstasy. “Pretty girl,” he chuckled. Geto flicked his tongue along your puffy clit, relishing in the whiny moan that slipped out from you. “I’m still not finished eating.” 

He lapped at your sensitive, slick cunt again, pulling orgasm after orgasm from you until he finally felt satisfied. The fae’s tongue licked along his lips after he pulled his face back, relishing in the sweetness of your multiple releases. Your body still twitched from the effects of him overstimulating you, which made you perfectly pliant for him as he stood to his feet and pressed his chest against yours. Geto kept you balanced between him and the wall, with an arm around your waist while a free hand worked to release himself from the confines of his pants. 

His cock sprang free—the tip angry and weeping arousal—and he slowly rubbed the thick head against your folds before easing himself inside. You whined at the stretch, body tensing from the sudden burn that ached the more he disappeared inside of you. The fae’s arm around your waist tightened as his hand moved to grip your hip, and his face buried itself in the crook of your neck. Your scent wafted through his nostrils, causing his dick to twitch inside of you, and Geto gave you a small moment of adjustment before pulling his hips back and slamming himself into you. 

The pace was relentless, with little to no room for gentleness as he fucked you. Gods, you were so tight and warm, with walls that sucked him back in with ease—so heavenly to him, this feeling. His arm soon unwound from around your waist, and both of his hands firmly pressed against the cell wall. Your tears were long gone by now, with eyes rolled back as you babbled nonsense in his ear, to which he let out a breathy chuckle at. 

You were adorable. His little human, getting herself fucked by a fae she thought she could evade. The thought of his little tricks almost not working on you days ago didn’t sit well with him, and he now desired to make you his in more ways than one. Fucking you just didn’t seem to be enough for him. Geto could impregnate you, force the swell of your belly with his seed. Then you would be his forever. 

Such an idea spurred him on, his body squishing you against the wall as his cock bullied your sopping cunt. “Take it, take it, darling,” he panted. Those words spilled from his lips like a mantra, a heavenly chant that would ensure your bond to him for life. Gods, it was enough for him to finally come undone. With a low growl rumbling in his throat, Geto fucked into you one last time, spilling into you and painting your walls in thick, creamy cum. 

His thrusts had slowed, gentling out as he kissed along the side of your neck. You were too fucked out to comprehend what had even happened. Too overstimulated from orgasms prior to realize the fate he resigned you to. Geto was a fae that had always gotten what his heart desired, no matter how sick and twisted it was. 

If impregnating you kept you bound to him, then so be it. Simply another little trick that had to be done. 

[etclouie]

kinktober day seven - size kink 

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 summary: your boyfriends always been bigger than you in more ways than one, but there’s one in particular he likes best (Simon Riley x fem!reader)

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 warnings: size kink/difference, no reader bodily descriptions other than being smaller than simon, reader gets praised by simon, poorly written smut, smut with zero plot, unprotected sex, reader calls simon ‘big boy’ at the end, lmk if i missed any

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 word count: 745

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 a/n: feel iffy about this one cause ik it doesn’t follow a size kink directly

prev day | next day kinktober masterlist | main masterlist

Simon had always been bigger than you, mainly due to his height and the sheer strength of him in comparison. always grabbing things from the top shelf when you couldn’t reach, but mainly making you feel safe in his arms. 

that was his number one goal, always. 

even when he was pushing you to your limits when fucking you, your safety was always his main concern. 

just like now. 

he had you laid out on your back, his hands having pulled your legs around his broad hips while he positioned his cock at your entrance. 

his touch soft and his gaze holding yours, and his thumb drawing shapes onto your hip. 

watching him through hooded eyes as his cock slowly pushed into your warmth, whining at the stretch to accustom yourself to his size while your nails scratched down his back. 

“i’ve got you, ‘s okay luv”

he whispered out low and soft, his head dropping to your shoulder while you held him as close as possible. breath shaky and back arched up into him as his hips slowly pushed against yours and his cock sliding further into you. 

the thing with Simon was that everything about him was huge; especially his cock. 

you’d almost lost your mind when you first seen him naked. chest scared and a thin trail of hair leading down to his cock from below his bellybutton, and eyes widening as his cock rested against his thigh. 

so now, with his hips rocking against yours and his cock pushing you to your limits, it highlighted the sheer size of him. 

shaky breaths leaving you and fingers tangling in his hair, barely audible murmurs of his name leaving your lips as your walls fluttered around him. 

“doing so good f’me sweetheart”

his voice kept its soft tone, his hands resting on your hips as his thrusts continued at their steady pace. humming softly as he kissed across your jaw before capturing your lips with his, his kisses chaste and soft. 

despite his softness when you took him, trying to accustom yourself to his size; he loved the fact he was bigger than you. it fuelled something almost primal inside him, and his need to push you to your limits growing by the second. 

the feeling of your walls fluttering around his cock had muffled groans spilling from him as he kept his head in the crook of your neck, lips pressing kisses to your skin and the sound of skin slapping against skin growing louder. 

“Si, close baby, please” 

the shaky plea had his head reeling, heat flushing his cheeks and the warmth emitting from his cheeks warming your skin where you were in contact. 

his right hand slid between your body to press his thumb against your clit, moaning at the contact and your head lulling back. 

“cum f’me sweetheart, i’ve got you”

the reassurance and approval in his voice mixed with his thumb against your clit had you tumbling over the edge, eyes screwed shut and a ragged cry of his name following. 

his hips continuing against you, and his cock throbbing in your warmth, lifting your head enough to watch him withdraw enough to see your release coating his length before he pushed back into you. 

“there’s my girl, doing so good f’me luv”

he praised, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear as he continued. his thrusts growing sloppy as his climax neared, his cock throbbing in your warmth and a groan leaving him as your nails scratched down his back. 

pressing a kiss to his temple and drawing a groan from him, fingers moving to tangle in his hair and pulling him into a kiss. his tongue pushing past your lips to tangle with yours, and whining into the kiss as he withdrew from your warmth. 

his right hand wrapping around his cock and stroking himself, while his left hand braced himself on the pillows next to your head. 

groans spilling from his lips and his cock throbbing in his hand, his eyes panning down your body and his hips rocking forward into his touch as his climax washed over him. 

his release spurting out and coating your stomach, his groans turning into whines as he milked himself. dropping his head to your shoulder and letting go of his cock as the last drop spilled from him, his breath ragged and uneven while you raked your fingers through his hair. 

“i’ve got you, big boy”

⋆˚࿔ reblogs are highly appreciated 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

[v1x3n]

M I R R O R S E X

john price x reader ⸝⸝ navigation kinktober masterlist

୨୧ synopsis : you feel ugly and unattractive when you see yourself in the mirror, so john fucks you silly in front of it to show you how pretty you are!!

୨୧ tags : smut - insecure, chubby reader, shit writing sorry, praise, orgasm denial, p in v.

“Say that again” John grunts, smoothing a hand over your chest as he pinches a nipple, “cmon, baby�� he hums into your neck. His hips thrust up into yours as his spare hand held around your chin - forcing your face towards the mirror that was placed in front of the two of you. 

The sight of your pussy getting pounded , your soft stomach with your plush thighs connected to your legs which are dangling down as your boyfriend's large hand hips onto the dips of your hips. “I-i am perfect” you mewl out while John's fat cock shoves far into your cunt. 

“Yeah?” he grunts, you nod at his words, you weren't really sure what was happening. Your mind was in pieces, a whole hour of John's length thrusting deep into you. Your eyebrows knit together when your boyfriend's hand trails down your stomach, landing on your clit. Your body jerks forward, trying to escape from grasp, his free hand keeps a hold of you, tightly keeping you aligned with his body. Your trembling legs, daring to break as his length hits deep inside of you, making your entire body go numb, start to give out, dropping down as your body flops.

Looking forward to the mirror, “look how gorgeous you are, daft thing, saying you aren't” 

Oh yeah, that's how this had started. This morning- well, no, all day you weren't feeling your best. Your thighs looked too… chunky, your stomach looked big, your arms looked chubby. Everything looked wrong. You felt unattractive when you looked towards john. Look at that fucking handsome man and hes with you. Ugly, unfit you. That's what your mind was playing over and over when you saw yourself in the mirror. 

You stood there, gripping the fat of your stomach and sighing. Tears rode down your cheeks whilst you stare at the inhuman appearance in front of you. That's when John saw you, “Love, you seen my phone?” he mumbles, walking into the room, seeing the sobbing mess. “Oh..” you peer up at him, wet streaks down your face, dropping down your chin and onto your chest. 

He walks over to you as you tell him your worries and he scoffs, “youre so fucking pretty, darling, you think id get so hard when seeing you if you werent?” a gruff voice whispers into your ear when you feel his hard on pressing against you.

That's how you got into this position, you sat on top of your boyfriend while he held up your drooping body, tears brinking your eyes - luckily not sad tears this time - with your eyes forced to look back at yours through the mirror.

“Cant fuck-” he groans into your ear, slamming your hips into his once more, “belive you would ever think of yerself as unattractive” after finoshing off his sentance, his lips connect to your neck, you move your head to the side to give him more access. Your moans start to grow more loud and repetitive while you put a hand on the side of his thigh to steady yourself.

“John” you whine out, your eyes squeezed together, shutting out the view of the body which you despise getting split in half with your handsome boyfriends member. Your climax closens when your eyes shut, your stomach feels tight, a cog deep inside of you slowly becoming undone. As soon as your walls tighten around John, his rough yet loving movements come to a halt, “w-what?” you mumble, a weak brain obviously confused at why you were denied a needed orgasm. 

“You're gonna cum at the sight of what ‘m doing t’ you or not at all” his teeth bite onto the lobe of your ear, his voice making your mind go numb. “O-okay” you nod, not caring about what it takes, you just want to cum.

His cock slides through you puffed-up folds and deep into your tight cunt whilst your eyes focus on the desperate  body in front of you, the reflection staring back at you as John's pace speeds back up, his tough hands that held your waist as if it were a handle for him to use your glistening pussy. “Look at how pretty you are” the man that brings you to the brink of an orgasm whispers in your ear before forcing your pussy to swallow his whole cock then he lifts you up, a hole that was made for john appears then filled instantly when he moves your hips back down. Making you bounce up and down on him.

Your tits bounce along with his rough movements. Your gasps and whines grew louder as your so needed orgasm clouded your mind, the only thing you could focus on was him, his cock and the way he used your body as if it were a fleshlight  to him.

“J-john” your voice chokes out, your eyes on his yet through the mirror, his caring but lust filled gaze on yours. “Gonna cum” you moan out, gripping hands onto his thigh, scraping the skin. “That's it, love, cmon” he grumbles under his breath as he continues to help you over the edge.

Your bodies banging together, wet slapping of skin comes to your ears as your senses overflow. “H-hah!” you breathe out, your clit twitches as a hand of johns comes down and flicks the nub a few times, as soon as he does that your orgasm washes over you.

You whimper as loud as you could, a long stripe of wet leading up your neck as john licks your salty skin - adding yet another thing that made your orgasm so fucking right.

You begin to babble nonsense, while tears cover your eyes, a blurry haze hiding your vision. cum spurts out onto his cock, wetness dripping out as he pulls his cock from inside of you, “so fucking perfect” he groans breathlessly after harshly biting your neck. Leaving a bulky red mark. 

“Jo- ah!” gasping when he nips the bulging mark heaving from your sensitive skin, your brain fuzzy as you stare at yourself through the mirror. All messy. “Let's have a shower now, hm?” john's lips trace over your ear, his beard tickling you when you move your head to the side to see his sweet face while you nod.

[the-californicationist]

Cali's Kinktober: Day 07

Kinktober Masterlist ad captandum vulgus - "to captivate the masses" TF141 x f!reader Kinks > glory hole, anal virginity, gangbang Full tags on AO3 - MDNI - Read at your own risk.

Your four boyfriends are overrun by stress. Hunting terrorists is a full-time job, so you take matters into your own hands to help them blow off some steam.

Sorry I'm late! Working on catching up right now. Y’all ever watched those Czech Fantasy glory hole videos? Anyway, can't get enough of those, so here's this.

The soft, silicone cock in your mouth was muffling the cries coming from deep in your chest as you felt two thick fingers pry their way into your cunt. You were laying on your back inside the dark, empty void of one of the weapons crates in the warehouse on base, the top half of your body concealed inside of the wooden box, and your lower half sticking out of a hole in the side, naked and exposed to the chilly air. Your legs were tied up, ankles hooked up to the metal storage shelf racks, thighs spread open, forcing your pussy lips to splay wide and wet and ready for someone’s mouth and fingers and prick. 

The voices outside of the crate were muffled, but you could just barely make out their words. 

“Pretty cunt on offer, huh? Free for any bastard to come and take,” you heard your lieutenant’s dark chuckle as he pushed his fingers even further inside of you, curling them to shove and prod against the pliant spot that made you scream. 

“Wha’s all this, then?” Kyle’s voice came through from the side of your box as he made his way over to where Simon was hard at work, making your hips writhe and hump his hand. 

“Our perfect little slut…” You heard him cruelly spit onto your clit, and you felt it, warm and slick, slip across your skin, “Got all set up for us. Wanted to welcome us home from our mission.”

“Needy slag, innit she?” John purred, and you felt his hand join Simon’s, pulling at your plump ass cheek to make your holes stretch and gape. 

“Lemme go first, LT. I cannae wait any longer,” Johnny begged. 

“Alrigh’, Johnny,” Simon pulled away from you, “But, don’t be too rough with her. We all want a turn, mate.”

You immediately felt a familiar mouth seal itself across your clit, sucking up Simon’s hot spit and your sticky precome all in one savage gulp. You’d know that tongue anywhere. Johnny ate you in the most blindingly erotic way. You felt like he was consuming you, inside and out. You didn’t know what was lip or tongue or finger, but he used them in symphonic unison to drag you, writhing and screaming, into an orgasm. But, your Scot was as cruel as his masked friend, and he didn’t care if you were in the throes of a hard come; he would double down, shoving his tongue down your hole and slurping your gifts into his throat. 

Then, he pulled away, leaving you with nothing, curling your hips to reach for him, until –

“Oh, shite. Tha’s it, right there. Unghh…” Johnny groaned. 

He was shoving his fat, curved cock into you, slow and steady, scraping his head on those same sensitive spots Simon had been torturing with his fingertips. Johnny still played with your clit as he rammed himself into you, stretching you, pulling you apart at the seams, making you feel like you were being stuffed beyond your limit. 

You wanted to cry out, to tell him to slow down, but you couldn’t. The gag would only let you scream against it and swallow your hot, thick drool as your mind began to burn away to a blank nothingness. 

He fucked you so hard that the box creaked, over and over, the wood crying out the same as you, whining from being overused. 

Then, you felt him dig deeper inside of you, dropping load after load of his come into your hole, deep enough that you could feel it sliding around in your soft channel, foaming and hot like milk in coffee, creamy and smooth. Two loving slaps against your ass as he slid out of you were the only thanks you got before you felt the next man at your hole. 

You couldn’t tell, at first, which one of your boyfriends was having his way with you this time, until you realized how long it was taking him to slide his entire length into you. Kyle’s prick always preferred a long drive in and a long retreat back out. He loved it when you stroked his entire length with your hands clasped together around him, soaked in lube and slowly massaging him from tip to root, and he used your pussy in much the same way. It was hypnotic, and when he did finally squeeze himself all the way to his base, it made it hard for you to take a breath. 

Usually, he was Mr. Foreplay. He’d spend twenty minutes on your tits alone, much less fondling your wet little hole. He loved getting you screaming for him before he even had himself out of his pants, but today, something was different. It was as if the box allowed him to be selfish. He didn’t care about your pleasure this time. He just wanted to take and take and take. 

So, he did. He stroked himself with your quim like you were his toy. You were just a warm, wet fleshlight, there to be used and nothing more. You were made to take his load, nothing more. The feeling of him being so unabashedly greedy was electrifying. His cock was so mean to you, ignoring your pulsing, writhing signals and blowing past your clenching quivers. In and in and in… out and out and out… that was all you knew. He had wiped your mind clean. 

Then, the final time he shoved himself in, he stayed there, grinding into you, humping and thrusting at a punishing pace, milking himself with your gooey textures and grunting like an animal as his hands clutched the corners of the box, blocking out the light from where his palms dug into the pine. 

You were so close to coming, but right when you began to tense up, he felt you, and he came to a sudden halt. He was teasing you. You tried to fuck him back, pushing your hips in every direction, working to fit his thick base back inside you, but he stopped you, gripping your body in his huge hands and holding you still.

Once you stopped fighting him, frustrated by the futility of it all, he watched your muscles melt back into submission, and he rewarded you with slippery, firm strokes along the hardened body of your clit, rubbing it affectionately like a well-heeled pet. It was not enough to bring your orgasm back to the surface, but instead, it caused your pleasure to roil and turn inside of your core like an unfed beast, pouting for its dinner. 

“Too greedy, babes,” he laughed at you with a tinge of ridicule, knowing the others were watching, “You only come when I want you to come.”

Kyle returned to his long, aching strokes, working his cock like the piston of a machine, unwavering in its rhythmic pattern or its ferocious power. Then, just as his pacing increased, he pinched your clithead between his knuckles, bringing tears to your eyes. In the middle of the most intense pleasure you’d ever been given, he had made you deal with this sharp agony, and your mind could not handle both at once. So, you lost your orgasm, but he enjoyed his. 

You sobbed as you felt his prick jerking inside of you, spitting fiery hot ropes of his come all over your walls and womb, filling you deeply just like Johnny. 

You expected him to pull out, and you were already grumbling about it in your head, silently bratty and plotting your revenge. But, he didn’t. He’d come in you and yet he was still seated inside, sealed like a sword in its sheath. The same fingers that had been so malicious were now back to their delicate, coaxing affection. He was pressing soft circles around your clit, picking up speed when he felt you pulse around the softening body of his dick. 

You were going to come, and you knew you were going to come hard. 

“Tha’s it. Good girls get rewards, innit that right, Cap?” 

John hummed, obviously watching your body sing for its conductor. 

The pressure within you built and built, and you were having trouble breathing. You wanted to cry out, but the gag was in your way, and you had to keep swallowing around it, stuck in a loop of feeling full in both ends of your body. 

Just as you were about to crash into bliss, Kyle ripped himself from you, and at the same time, your pussy beared down, thinking it had something hard to press against. But, you were empty, and so all of that force sent the come that you had been keeping warm in your belly squirting out of your hole and onto the floor. Sliding out of your cunt, it dripped down your ass cheek and pooled on the ground, making you look every bit the freeuse slut that you knew you were. 

“My, my…” Price’s dark growl commented, “Filled her to the brim, didn’t you, Sergeant? Good lad.”

You could feel John playing with the stream of milky come that was oozing out of your hole, spreading it around. He scooped it onto his fingers and began to shove it back into your pussy, fucking you with his middle and ring fingers gently at first, and then not at all. He was fucking you on his hand hard enough to shake the box, and you knew he could make you squirt. He loved it. He didn’t care how overstimulated you were; he would keep pushing your buttons over and over, watching you spray your liquid joy all over him and you and whatever else was in the way. 

You twisted, trying to escape him, but he was too strong. 

“C’mon, love. Come for me. I wanna see it.”

You’d just come from Kyle’s big dick, but Price didn’t give a damn. He yanked another one from you, making you feel as if you were wetting yourself, pressing deep enough and firm enough to force your pussy to squirt all over his palm. Your whole body seized, unable to control the movements he was putting you through. You felt like his helpless puppet, stuck on his hand and thanking him for it. 

Price left you there, your ankles hanging limply in their ties where you’d stuck your feet in them, your legs trembling like a fawn, shaking and shining from your come, your body begging for more and your mind too fuck-drunk to protest. 

Then, he was back. You knew it was him because you always struggled to take his girthy cock. The head was immense and hard like a fist. It bullied its way into your cunt, using your other boyfriends’ come as lube. Even so, he had to retreat over and over, whetting himself repeatedly, just so that he could make progress. He stretched you so far that it ached like a bruise, and your pussy, already primed to come for him, started up again, making you tense and squeeze and roll and spread yourself for him, opening wide like a whore, like he paid you for it. 

“Fuck, I willnae ever get tired of watchin’ how he makes her do that. Struggle on that cock, bonnie. Your man loves it when you fight, don’t he?”

“Yeah, I fuckin’ do,” Price agreed, the tips of his fingers held tight together and slapping sharply on your clit and mons, stinging your flesh as he fucked you deeper and deeper. 

Someone else’s fingers started to grope your thighs and ass, gripping you hard and trailing wet kisses across your skin. You felt your body melting into his touch, such a stark contrast from John’s lustful torment. When his mouth dragged its way up your thigh, his nose bumped your calf, and you knew it was Simon, your Ghost. He was still in his mask, and you could feel the folds of it against the bridge of his nose, scrunched up to let him use his mouth on you. 

Simon played with you while Price stuffed you full of cock, his captain set on pounding your pussy until it was hot from his work. You felt Simon’s fingertip dip into the tight hole of your ass, testing your leniency. He’d been begging you for weeks to let him try anal, but you had told him that he was too big. Now, he saw his chance. His finger sank deeper, down to the first knuckle, and he made firm circles around the rim, massaging you open, getting you ready for him. 

Price held you around the waist, both of his thumbs pressing down into your womb, taking away any remaining space inside of your stuffed cunt, making you feel every single ridge and vein on his prick. It made you want to come, and he knew you were about to explode. 

“I know what you want, love. Take it. C’mon, make me come. Make this fuckin’ pussy grab my cock,” Price talked you through each suffocating wave of your orgasm, barking orders like you were one of his men, knowing you could follow them like he’d trained you to. 

You wanted him to come with you, to fill you up with his soft seed, but he didn’t. He pulled out and then stuck just the tip of his dick inside of your asshole, letting his spend shoot through your forbidden hole, lubing you up for his lieutenant. 

“There you go, Riley. Should do the job, aye?”

“Yes, sir. Cheers, mate.”

No sooner was Price gone from you than Simon had taken his place, settling his dick on top of your pussy and dragging it through your slick skin, letting your lips lick him wet. He teased you with his hard length, using his dick like a toy, jerking his shaft so that his head would vibrate against your clit, making you squirm beneath his touch. 

“Deep breath, princess,” he murmured, just loud enough for you to hear, taking two fingers of your pussy’s sticky fluids and smearing them across your asshole. 

His pet name for you sent butterflies through your stomach. He only used it on special occasions, and for him to use it now, when you were hidden away and splayed open, vulnerable as you’d ever been, made your head swim. He was really going to take your asshole right here in the warehouse, shamelessly taking your untouched hole in front of your other lovers, claiming it for himself. 

The press of his head was enough to make your blood rush through your body and head for your core. You felt dizzy. He pushed forward gently, going so slowly that it didn’t seem as if he was even moving in you, using his head to kiss your tight muscles until your body relented, allowing him through. Then, you felt him spread your walls apart, making contact with Price’s come and using it to ease his path. 

It made you feel full in a new way. You were familiar with fingers and tongues invading your space, but having Simon’s heavy cock there gave you a whole different kind of experience. You were so sensitive, and what you thought would be painful or upsetting was actually warping itself into a wild, unbridled kind of pleasure. It was like a scalding hot bath that, once you got used to the heat, made you dissolve into the delicate warmth of it like fine sugar. 

“Mnghff-fuck,” Simon groaned roughly, “Tha’s it, baby. Relax for me just like that.”

Another pair of hands began to play with your pussy, two fingers at your clit, two inside your cunt, and Simon rutting himself steadily into your asshole. 

“Takin’ you so well, LT. Didnae think it’d fit.”

“She’s perfect, Johnny. Just wait until you try her arse. Fuckin’ heaven.”

You felt Johnny’s mouth on your clit as another man finger-fucked your pussy, and he sucked greedily on your overstimulated clit, swollen and sore from all the attention. But, he didn’t hear your protests, and he simply suckled away, licking you and using his jaw to spread your folds so he could use his tongue to reach for more of your taste. 

Simon had reached his root, shoving his damp curls against your core, and now he began to slowly and shallowly fuck you, worried that more would be too much for you to handle. You wanted to tell him you needed more, wanted to scream for him to bury himself in you, to fuck your asshole like he would your pussy. But, he didn’t. He was careful, deliberate, and you could feel the shudder of his body from just how hard he was holding himself back. 

“Bloody fuckin’ hell,” Kyle’s deep voice came through a smile. You could tell he was pleased by something, “You should feel her cunt, mate. She’s lovin’ this.”

He was the one fucking you on his hand, and all of your excitement was obvious from your pulsing need. 

“I can feel her,” Simon grunted, overwhelmed by the knowledge that you were indeed enjoying your ass being invaded by his throbbing rod.

His trembling was getting progressively worse, and you felt it in his hands as he grasped your thighs. He kept readjusting his grip, but you knew that his hands were shaking, the tremors of his restraint exacerbating his ability to hold his own pleasure at bay. He hissed as you started to come from Johnny’s mouth,

“So fuckin’ tight, princess. Fuck!”

You wanted to bring him with you into the swirling mesmerism of bliss, so you stayed tight, using your weak muscles to squeeze him as much as you could, imagining your holes like soft, wet fists, grasping at his tool and trying to use him to work yourself into a high, vicious fever. 

You could feel the fabric of his mask as Simon leaned his forehead against your leg, the heat from his panting breaths, his exhaustion breaking your heart. You promised yourself in your heart that, as soon as you were out of this box and fully recovered, you’d show him how well you could take him. He didn’t need to temper his passion. 

The only time you got a glimpse at his true hunger was right as he started to come. His hips jerked forward, as if he was shoved, and he thrust his cock far into your asshole, spreading his slick cream as deep as he could reach. Johnny had stepped back, and Kyle pulled his fingers from you, moving out of their lieutenant’s way as he completed his ritual, marking your insides, making you his. 

You felt the sweetest kiss against your ankle just before he slid himself from you, trying to go easy on your used hole. But, you couldn’t feel any pain. Not anymore. Your body was racked with pleasure. If someone had even brushed their finger over your pussy, you thought you might come. 

Simon’s hands fumbled with one of the ropes around your foot, and someone else took care of the other. Then, bright light filled your eyes as John pried open the crate. Then, all four men peered inside, starting down at you with wide smiles and satisfied grins plastered across their faces. 

“Hey, love. Let’s get you out, yeah?” Price purred, removing your gag and wiping your mouth with his thumb. With ease, he pulled you from the crate and cradled you in his arms, helping Johnny wrap his jacket around you. Johnny leaned forward to kiss your forehead, and Simon lifted your fingers to his lips before he replaced his mask. 

“Let’s get you cleaned up, babes,” Kyle spoke to you in a low tone, petting his thumb across your cheek. 

“Took such good care of us, lass. It’s our turn, now.”

You let them take you back to their shared room, holding onto them and letting them bathe you and set everything right, tucking you into bed and sitting with you as you dozed. They had all sprawled across the mattress, laying on you and each other, not truly caring whose limbs were whose. 

As usual, Simon was the last to doze off, and you whispered to each other in quiet voices.

“You alright, missus?” He asked, his voice attempting to hide his troubled concern.

“Mmm,” you nodded, “More than alright.”

There was a bit of a lull; he was considering something, and then he asked,

“Did you like it? Was I too –”

“No,” you stopped him in the middle of his worry, “You were perfect. Maybe next time we could –”

“Next time?” His surprise warmed your heart, and you smiled up at him, lifting his mask up to kiss his mouth.

“Yeah, next time.”

[tony-loon]

Huxloween 2024 - Day 13 - Apocalypse (again) -aPOEcalypse - (Get it??? Because Oscar Isaac played Apocalypse in X-Men???? ... .. yeah, jokes get better when they are explained) Inspired by  @huxloween 's promptlist :3

[themarvelproject]

Summer fun with the X-Men by Kaare Andrews in an interconnecting series of variant covers from Unknown Comics that was also published as a Marvel Signature Print as a San Diego Comic-Con exclusive (2024)

[literallyneurodivergentandaminor]

cringetober day 2: tsundere! well i took some liberties here

[shaisuki]

notes. conclusion for kinktober 2024. didn't finish the whole but phew. i'm going back now to finishing requests.

📍 day one: spitroasting + tsukishima kei & kyoutani kentaro

📍 day two: hatefucking + ego jinpachi

📍 day three: exhibitionism + aizawa shouta

📍 day four: body worship + taiju shiba

📍 day five: gun play + toji fushiguro

📍 day six: cuckold + baji keisuke & chifuyu matsuno

📍 day seven: gangbang + seijoh four

📍 day eight: dacryphilia + Itadori yuuji

📍 day nine: food play + rengoku kyoujuro

📍 day ten: somnophilia + bakugo katsuki

📍 day eleven: edging + gojo satoru

📍 day twelve: breeding kink + shinmon benimaru

📍 day thirteen: hand kink + trafalgar law

📍 day fourteen: voyeurism kink + kuroo tetsurou

📍 day fifteen: praise kink + hajime umemiya

📍 day sixteen: dry humping + barou shoei

📍 day seventeen: monsterfucking + sukuna ryoumen

📍 day eighteen: cockwarming + hibino kafka

📍 day nineteen: corruption kink + hawks/keigo takami

📍 day twenty: cnc + sanemi shinazugawa

📍 day twenty-one: sex pollen + nanami kento

📍 day twenty-two: recording + atsumu miya

📍day twenty three: stepcest + choso kamo

📍day twenty-four: hypnosis + kenma kozume

[choco-youmi]

Day 4

[tame-the-lion-writes]

oct i | ghost | bondage

Simon Riley, your long-term boyfriend, who asks if you can try out something new. Simon Riley, who asks you to wear your softest, sweetest, pastel coquette dress. Simon Riley, who takes your pretty little wrists and ties them together in a delicate silk bow. The lines dipping gently into your skin, held fast and firm. Ribbon matching the one in your hair.

"So pretty," he murmurs, pressing a palm to your cheek as you kneel before him, weight settled on your two-inch heels.

You could slip out any time, really. Undo the binds. But there's something so quaint--something so intimate--about gossamer and satin, and the way he glances down at your pouting face and soft doe eyes. It's you who chooses to be here, and to give in; you who sinks into the fluttering touch of the fabric just as much as you sink into his.

His thumb finds your bottom lip and presses down, fingertip slipping into your mouth.

"That's my girl."

[sister-lucifer]

Love After Life

Claude Theroux (Ghost OC) x Male Reader

Genre: Smut 

Summary: When the ghostly groom mistakes you for his lost bride on a dark Halloween night, you can’t stop yourself from giving into him. 

Content/Warnings: AMAB Reader, unprotected anal sex, cumming inside, Reader crossdressing as a bride for Halloween, a little dubcon but not really only at first, mentions of death + fire, pet names (my love, my darling, various French pet names, etc), Claude refers to Reader with feminine terms because he has weird ghost brain stuff going on and doesn’t realize he’s not his wife, pregnancy/breeding, does this count as force fem?

A/N: Happy (slightly late) Halloween, everyone! ʚ♡ɞ

THIS IS NOT FULLY PROOFREAD! PLEASE LET ME KNOW IF YOU SEE ANY TYPOS!

Believing in ghost stories is a feat that has always hovered just outside your field of reality, what you know to be true. Sure, you can suspend your disbelief to humor a friend now and again, but nothing beyond that. Of course, curiosity has a nasty habit of overpowering basic logic; when your phone pinged with a video from a friend about the supposedly haunted manor on White Oak Hill, you couldn’t resist giving it a watch. 

You rolled your eyes at the cheesy music that immediately started up upon hitting play, snuggling into bed with your free hand in a bag of snacks. You didn’t expect much at all, really. From the look of the video, it seemed like just another ploy for views from a subpar channel profiting off of kids who are still scared of monsters under the bed. You were far too intelligent for that. 

“The haunted house on White Oak Hill has been circulating once again, now that Halloween is coming around,” the narrator spoke, putting on an obviously forced voice while stock b-roll of a graveyard panned across the screen, “but what really happened to make it so haunted? Stay tuned to find out, but first, we want to tell you about our new merch drop—“

You groaned aloud, immediately skipping ahead. You could not be less interested in whatever they were peddling.  

“…and it was then, in July of 1945, that tragedy struck.” 

Ah. That’s more like it.

“Newlywed French aristocrats, Suzanne and Claude Theroux, had just arrived at White Oak Manor, where they intended to spend their honeymoon…”

Ugh, how cliché. You skipped forward a few more seconds, running out of patience fast. 

“…The couple moved downstairs, still dressed in their reception clothes, and completely oblivious to the fire blooming up in the master bedroom. Somehow, a recently lit candelabra had knocked over, causing the charred wick to burn one of the curtains, and the flames were growing rapidly. In their panic, Suzanne managed to escape, but Claude was not so lucky…” 

The music faded out, as did the visuals. As much as you’d hate to admit it, they had reeled you in. You didn’t even realize how close you’d gotten to the screen throughout that monologue, at least not until—

“…but first, a word from our sponsors.” 

Oh, fuck this! 

The shrill text tone jolts you out of an embarrassingly deep sleep. You wipe the drool from your chin as you scramble to sit up, phone sliding off of your chest. Looks like you fell asleep watching that video. So much for scary—you slept like a baby. 

You pick up your phone and look at the notification. You can’t help but roll your eyes as you type out your reply. 

Unfortunately, you actually had to consider that. 

You’re not exactly strapped for cash or struggling to scrape by, but it sure as hell would make you a lot more secure and comfortable to know you at least have that extra hundred put away in case of an emergency.

…Ugh. 

“Oh my god,” you mutter, stumbling through the doorway of the old house, “this is stupid. This is so stupid…” 

Somehow, you’ve gotten this far without putting all of this to a stop.  Maybe it was the hundred dollars floating just out of reach like a carrot on a stick, maybe it was morbid curiosity, or maybe it was just plain idiocy, but you really let this happen. Wow. 

Each step makes the wooden floors creak underfoot, the boards hissing in protest to your weight. You struggle to keep your balance in the tacky heels you were forced into, which are as uncomfortable as they are humiliating. To add insult to…well, another insult, you aren’t even wearing regular clothes under the dress as promised; they made it nearly impossible to get the damn thing on, and it was just too uncomfortable. You were allowed to keep your briefs, at least. Not that that makes you feel any better. Your dignity is strained, to put it lightly. 

You scratch at your arm rather aggressively, the itchy fabric of the tulle sleeves irritating the skin there. The entire dress is painfully cheap, and promises an unforgiving rash tomorrow morning. You instinctively reach to where your pocket would normally be to grab your phone, only to be utterly disappointed as the words of your friend echo in your head: 

“No modern technology! If he sees you tapping at your weird light box, he’ll freak out! All you have to do is go in, sweep the house, and report back to me.” 

Of course, your immediate response was to question why the ghost hunter wasn’t going in; surely the ‘expert’ isn’t scared? 

The only answer you got was a rather unceremonious shove towards the house. 

You’re in this alone. Great. 

You just hope the house doesn’t decide to collapse in on itself tonight. You don’t believe in ghosts, but the decrepit 20th century architecture and the harsh wind whistling through the broken windows are very real. It seems like the entire manor is trying to chase you out, like it’s angry that you’re here, loudly creaking and moaning with every shift or shake to talk you out of taking another step. No wonder this place has sparked so many ghost stories, it’s scary as shit! 

You stop in the middle of the foyer, taking a moment to drink in the scenery. 

The effects of the fire are obvious, even after all the years of atrophy; the core of the charred blackness lies upstairs, but its countless arms sprawl outwards, clawing at the walls in a desperate attempt to get free. From what you can see, it did not succeed, as the front most part of the house seems to be relatively untouched. 

Most of the house was gutted in an estate sale—what could be salvaged, anyways— but a couple of throne chairs and a matching ottoman still remain, now thoroughly gnawed through by all manner of creepy-crawlies. The entire downstairs is covered in a sticky blanket of spiderwebs, as if you needed more evidence of an infestation. Most of the curtains have been left untouched, except by time, though they do little to keep the house warm without any in tact windows. All of glass has been nearly completely shattered by either nature or vandals. You noticed a few graffiti tags and discarded beer cans outside, but the inside looks like it hasn’t had many people in it since the fire. The legends must keep them out. 

You look around as you try to discern where to go next. Directly in front of you is a large staircase leading to the upper level of the house, and behind it are a few doors that probably lead to a kitchen, a guest room and the like. On either side are long hallways that curl around, preventing you from seeing where they lead. The living area on your left, with the only remaining pieces of furniture, is enclosed on either side by grand bookcases that once held countless manuscripts and novels. The floor is still discolored from where the rug once laid. The grand chandelier of Damocles above your head sways a bit in the wind, and that makes you swallow nervously; you make the smart decision to move a few steps to the side just in case the diamond daggers come down. 

The question is: where do you start?

You could quite easily get turned around in here, especially in the endless hallways of the ground floor. You were given a brief glance at the floor plans, and there was no basement, only the two levels above and below the stairs. The best place to start would be upstairs, you decide— that way you can work your way back to the front door. 

Upon closer inspection, though, you realize that physically going up the stairs might be easier said than done, especially in these tacky pumps. Your eyes follow the steps from the bottom up, and each stair is only more burnt and broken than the last. You’ll have to navigate this with utmost caution. 

Your first step is shaky, but the wood doesn’t feel too unsteady. You’re careful not to stumble or let the heels of your shoes slip off the back of the stairs as you ascend, holding tightly to the rail. You only lift your hand at about halfway up, when you feel the gradually blackening wood starting to flake off and stick to your palm. The higher you climb, the darker it gets, all of the color of the upstairs completely consumed and overtaken by the fire. It’s like walking into Hell, the last vestiges of light fleeing from the sight as you finally reach the last step. 

You linger there for a moment, mouth hanging open just slightly as the reality of the tragedy sets in. Sure, you’d seen pictures, unable to push down the curiosity in the time before your little adventure, but this was…haunting. 

Someone actually died here. Holy shit. You’re staring into someone’s grave. 

You shudder as another breeze passes through, feeling much colder than before. You can only stare into the pitch black hallway for a moment before an irritated creak from the stairs urges you to quickly move off of them. 

Black dust swarms around your ankles as you step onto the upper floor. It seems even more untouched than the lower part of the house. The wind doesn’t come through as loudly here, and suddenly you realize how deathly quiet it got as you came up the stairs. You listen for a moment to see if you can pick up any sound from the outside, but there’s nothing. Not a sound, not a rustle, not a honk from the highway. You don’t even think the rats come up here. Spooky. 

You look to your left, down the hallway. Darkness. Complete darkness. The frail gleam of the moon is practically swallowed by the suffocating black. 

You look to your right, and see the same thing. You catch a brief glimpse of the dim light reflecting on something. 

You look back to the— 

Wait. 

You double take.  The fuck was that? 

You turn back to the right, now much more on guard. You squint into the shadows, sure that you saw something against the wall that barely hovered where you could see it. 

Nothing moves. 

Nothing is there. 

You sigh, rolling your eyes at your own stupidity. You’re letting those dumb stories get to you. You just need to get out of here before you catch a disease or fall through the floor and break an ankle. 

You decide to keep true, headed straight for the center hall and the master bedroom where it all began. You walk slowly, keeping an arm in front of you to feel for spiderwebs in the windowless hallway, but you encounter none. Come to think of it, you hadn’t seen any signs of pests since the stairs. Nothing worth eating up here, you guess. 

You can barely see the slight glint of the bedroom doorknob. It shifts and wavers just a bit as you bob with each step, eventually coming close enough to reach out and grab it. You prepare for the spikes of cold metal against your skin, but the sensation you feel is much different. 

The doorknob is warm. 

Not unbearably hot, no, but warm. Warmer than it has any right to be, enough to make you pull your hand back for a moment. 

You swallow hard. 

It must be because the wind doesn’t come through here, you rationalize; this hall has no windows, there’s rooms on both sides—it’s not as drafty as the rest of the house. That must be it. 

You grasp the knob again, turning it slowly…so as to not break it, of course. 

The door creaks open loud enough to make you wince, like you’re worried someone will hear and come bustling in to scold you for being up past your bedtime. The room looks rather well preserved, and it doesn’t start to sink in how odd  that is until you’ve already stepped inside, and then the door shuts behind you on its own. That startles you enough to crash your train of thought. 

You quickly spin around to look at the door, staring for a few moments to see if it’ll move. It stays still, the ornate wooden carvings looking back at you like sharp eyes, waiting to see if you, too, will make a move. 

The room is, for lack of a better term, dead. Any sound that tries to make its way in dies outside the walls, and even the particles floating in the air seem frozen, cursed to forever hover in the beams of moonlight. A ghostly glow is cast over everything, an ethereal blanket that makes the air feel heavy. You take a step further into the room, and it feels like walking on the ocean floor. You’re numb, yet you can feel your skin clinging to your bones. 

You really shouldn’t be here. 

Then, a flickering light in the corner of your eye catches your attention. It startles you, seemingly appearing out of nowhere, enough to make you jump as you turn to it. The glimmering brilliance blinds you for a moment, and you don’t realize what you’re looking at until your eyes focus again. 

On the bedside table, its illuminating aura casting quivering shadows on the walls, is a sterling silver candelabra holding tightly to three lit candlesticks. The engraved vines snake their way up its arms and around its base, almost as if trying to hold it still. It looks like a priceless antique, but it shines like it’s brand new. A moment ago the room was completely dark, and now it’s aglow with the white-blue candlelight. The flames swirl in your pupils, hypnotizing you with their unnatural hue as they dance like skilled ballerinas, flicking up into a perfect arabesque before relaxing into a soft adagio, beckoning you closer without you even realizing. 

You don’t see how close you’ve gotten until you’re nearly upon it. Your fingers twitch, nearly aching to reach out and hover over the fire. Without a conscious decision, your hand starts to lift, like moving through water. It floats just above the candles, and you feel no heat, nor do you see any smoke. It’s like a projection onto the air itself. 

You barely stop yourself from dipping a finger into the flames. You know logically that you’ll be burned—or at least, you should be—but the fire calls to you nonetheless. For just a moment, everything is different; you aren’t yourself. There’s a dark cloud forming in your mind, and then suddenly it dissipates at the startling sound of a voice behind you. 

You whip your head around so fast your neck nearly snaps. You squint into the darkness, still as a statue, expecting to see your friend standing there or perhaps even a fellow explorer whose curiosity got the better of them. You’re not even sure what the voice said, but it was certainly human…or, at least, something that’s quite good at sounding human. 

You see no one.

You’re just as alone as you were. 

You turn to face the room fully, but you move too fast. Your hand bumps the bedside table, knocking the candelabra off of it. You panic as you scramble to catch the candleholder, not even thinking about the possibility of burning your hands. You manage to reach out at the last second and get your palm beneath it, and you expect to feel the weight of the cool silver against your skin, but you never do. 

You watch with your own eyes as the candelabra phases right through your flesh. 

You think for a split second that perhaps you just missed, but there’s no clatter against the wood floor either. The candelabra disappears with as much ceremony as it first materialized, leaving only a few sapphire embers that jump from the wicks before fading away as well. The moon’s beams on your back is the only surviving light. 

You can feel the freezing of your blood as it crystallizes into solid ice, the unbearable sensation blooming in your stomach before snaking its way down your limbs. You want to scream, but you can only muster a gasp as you stumble backwards in shock. You trip over your own feet, falling back onto the bed. 

Your vision starts to fill with black spots as your mind struggles to wrap around what it just witnessed. You keep seeing that split second in time when you watched it go through you, that single moment where it was halfway through your solid form before it was gone. Unsure what else to do, you squeeze your eyes shut, trying desperately to calm yourself. 

You lay there for a few moments, unable to make yourself get up or move at all. All at once your mind is racing, yet you’re unable to think at all. You try to force yourself to calm down, to will your heart to quiet, but you can’t push the thought of the candelabra out of your mind. 

You’re not sure why, but you cover your face. Your entire body tenses for a brief moment before you finally break your barrier of panic. Slowly, but surely, you relax again. Your chest is still heaving, but you can finally form a semi-coherent thought. 

…What the hell just happened? 

You don’t have an answer for that. At least, not right now. 

That’s okay, you sure yourself. You’re fine. You need to just get out of here. You can lie and say you saw a shadowy figure or something. 

You pull your hands away from your face, blinking a few times as your eyes focus and adjust to the bright light. 

Hold on. 

The what? 

No, you’re really seeing that…?! 

Just above you is a hovering form, glowing in the darkness of the bedroom. For a second it only looks like a luminous cloud, but then the finer features become clear, coming into form like a time lapse of a painting. 

You notice the eyes first. They’re a brilliant blue, even more so than the rest of the body, like heavy gems being cradled by translucent clouds. You notice the hair next, long, silky and wavy, looking like it may have once been blond despite the blue tint, and floating as though in zero gravity. The nose is slender and straight, and the lips are devoid of warmth and slightly parted as if pleasantly surprised. The rest of the body is wrapped in a dark suit, accented with a light blue tie and a matching lily boutonnière with drooping petals. 

You put it together in an instant; the attire, the house, the fire… 

…The groom. 

Your throat goes dry as sandpaper. 

He’s smiling down at you a terrifying amount of genuine affection. He tilts his head just slightly, observing you as your mouth gapes and eyes widen in shock. You struggle for words, but only manage to choke out one thing: 

“Claude...?!”

His grin only widens when he hears his name from your lips. 

“Ohh, my love,” he sighs, his thickly accented voice echoing in the back of your head as if speaking directly into your mind, “I was wondering where you went…”

He reaches out to stroke your cheek, and it feels like cold fog on your skin. He’s trembling as much as you are. 

“You’ve returned, you’ve returned…” he mumbles like a chant. He leans in with both hands on the sides of your face, gently bumping his forehead against yours. The contact makes your entire body shiver, and you have to stop your teeth from chattering. You know you should say something, stop him, move away…but what can be done? 

You’re frozen. 

His hands on your face are starting to make your skin tingle, like pins and needles in your cheek. The sensation lingers when he finally pulls away, and you can’t stop yourself from rubbing the feeling away on your shoulder. 

There’s a beat of silence between you for a moment. He looks down at you, gentle smile never wavering despite the terror that’s surely on your face. He doesn’t seem to realize at all that you’re not happy to see him. Something in his eyes makes you feel like he’s looking through you, or perhaps not truly seeing you at all. 

You bristle when he moves lower, hollow hands grasping at your ankles before sliding upward, lifting the cheap layered skirt of the bride costume. The cold feeling creeping up your leg makes you yelp, and you instinctively kick at him. Your tacky heel slips off and falls to the floor with your foot still floating inside his abdomen. Oh god, it feels like stepping in refrigerated jello. 

Claude pauses. For a moment you’re worried you’ve angered him, that now you’ve invoked

the wrath of a restless spirit, but then he laughs. He laughs as though you’d simply told him something funny, and then his hands continue working their way up your legs. 

“Always so spirited,” Claude chuckles, hands now firmly on your thighs, “I always did love that about you, ma femme…” 

He leans over you, and you want to sink into the mattress as far as possible. Your legs tremble uselessly as they dangle over the edge of the bed, unable to make you run. 

“W-Wait, hold on—“ you stammer, but you choke on your words when he dips down to kiss your neck. Each little press of his lips is like a shock to your system. Normally, you wouldn’t be so sensitive, but the feeling is so foreign and overwhelming you can’t help but arch your back. His hands slide up and down your waist, skirt now bunched around your hips, and you can barely feel the cold through the costume. 

He either doesn’t hear you or doesn’t acknowledge your words. He keeps working his way down your neck, hands moving around to your back and fumbling with the zipper down the bodice of your dress. You don’t realize what’s happening before suddenly the costume is being pulled off your shoulders. 

“Wait, wait—!” you say again, with a bit more volume this time. This makes him stop, pulling away and looking at you with confusion, and maybe even a bit of hurt. 

“Darling, what’s the matter?” he asks, stroking your hair, “Are you nervous? Don’t be…” 

“N-No, you don’t understand…!” you insist, but the longer you look in his eyes, the less you want to fight him. 

“Can’t you tell? I-I’m not…you know…” 

You trail off, gesturing vaguely to yourself. Surely he can tell you’re not his Suzanne…? 

His eyebrows furrow. He’s clearly not understanding what you’re getting at, but then his eyes light up with a realization. 

“…Oh…I see…” he mumbles, looking away from you in thought. You finally relax, breathing a sigh of relief. Looks like you managed to get through to—

“Oh, darling, I don’t care if you’re not a virgin!” 

…What? 

You open your mouth to correct him, but no sound comes out. He kisses you, you think, but it’s so fast you only feel the slight coolness on your lips. 

“It doesn’t matter to me,” he continues, “you’re still my beautiful wife. No more delay, let me show you how much I love you.”

Before you can blink the costume has been pulled off of you. You’re left in only your boxers and one shoe, head spinning as you struggle to make any sense of the situation. 

How does he not see? You think, you don’t look anything like Suzanne, gender disparity aside…! 

No, wait…what was it they said in that old ghost movie? 

“Ghosts see what they want to see.” 

The sudden understanding barely breaks through as Claude dives into your neck again, the other side this time, mumbling and sighing against your skin in slurred French. 

There’s no reasoning with him, you realize, he wants you to be his wife. He needs you to be her. He’s been waiting here so long for her to return, he doesn’t even know he’s dead. 

Oh, god… 

His hands run up and down your bare chest, and the freezing touch makes your nipples harden. They trail lower, like cold water running down your body, pausing at the waistband of your boxers. He floats downward to nuzzle into your thigh, and the sight of him looking up at you with those big, blue eyes makes your stomach flip. 

“Oh, mon amour, won’t you let me…?” he asks, tugging at your boxers, “I simply can’t rest until I’ve had you…”

Can’t rest, he says…

Is that what he’s been waiting for all these years? 

They say ghosts only stick around if they have unfinished business, right? Is this…is this what he needs? 

You suck in a deep breath, unable to look away from his eyes. 

Well…if it might work, it’s worth a shot, right? You’re doing this for him, after all. 

At least that’s what you’ll tell yourself tomorrow morning. 

Fuck it. 

“Yes.”

The way his expression quite literally lights up makes your face go hot. 

He wastes no time, pulling off your boxers with utmost enthusiasm. The fall to the floor, immediately forgotten once he’s dropped them. You resist the urge to suck in a harsh breath as your half hard cock is exposed to the air. You’re already bracing yourself for the inevitable feeling of his cold touch. 

For the first time, you really see him pause. He’s staring down at your length, gears turning in his head but not working quite right, like he’s on the verge of snapping out of a trance. You gulp. If he’s found you out, you might be screwed. 

The silence stretches on for an almost awkward amount of time. 

Then, without warning, the love returns to his eyes, and a split second later his tongue comes out to lick a long stripe up your shaft. You nearly scream, barely managing to cover your mouth in time. Fuck, that’s cold! 

It’s clear that he’s not all that knowledgeable about what to do with a dick, but he’s giving it a hell of a try. He makes sure his tongue doesn’t neglect a single spot on your length, and he doesn’t miss the little squeal he gets when he flicks gently at the tip. He tries to take it in his mouth, but forcing your cock down his throat is clearly uncomfortable for him, even if he can’t choke on it. Nonetheless, he tries, rubbing at whatever he can’t fit in his mouth with his hand. He’s not afraid of moaning, either, and the vibrations it sends through you can never be replicated by any toy. 

You do your best to lay back and enjoy it despite the bizarre situation. You manage to clear your mind for only a moment before you feel two of his fingers brushing against your hole. You gasp, tensing on instinct. You can feel him smirk around your cock before he pulls off of it for a moment. 

“Ahh, there it is…” he says lowly before promptly busying his mouth once more. 

You bite down hard on your bottom lip as two of his fingers slip in, the cold instantly penetrating your core. This seems to be a skill he’s much more adept at; he’s far less hesitant, and far more graceful. He stretches you in just the right ways, exploring your waiting hole with a confidence that easily surpasses any of your past partners. His fingers slip in and move around so easily, without any struggle or pain. You’re almost upset you’ll never feel this again. 

Try as you might to be quiet, you can’t bite back the moan that crawls out of your throat when the pads of his fingers press against your prostate. He chuckles as best he can with your dick down his throat. He presses again, gentler this time, clearly enjoying the drawn out while it gets from you. 

It’s getting harder and harder to keep quiet as he hits all the right spots over and over again. He’s evidently a quick learner, too, as he’s already picked up on the best ways to use his tongue around your length. You can feel yourself twitching in his mouth. 

He slips in a third finger, and as it pushes in you nearly see stars. Tingly static crawls up your body like dye soaking into fabric, invading the deepest crevices of your nervous system. God, that’s good. 

You’re not sure how long it’s been when he finally pulls away, leaving you suddenly empty and far too warm for comfort. You’re too dizzy to question what’s going on when he flips you onto your stomach, but you don’t have to ask questions. You shudder as he leans over you, his chest against your back, engulfing your body with an icy sensation. 

“Oh, ma belle femme, how lucky I am to have you,” he whispers in your ear, voice choked and shaky, “I can feel you trembling underneath me. Just sit still, my darling…” 

You can hear him rustling with his clothes behind you, but don’t bother to look back. Your cock is practically begging for more of his touch. 

After a moment he leans over you again, this time laying his hands over yours. He feels nearly weightless, like a cloud resting on top of you. 

“Je peux enfin t’emmener…”

You don’t have a second to process his words before suddenly he’s pushing into you. You don’t bother trying to hide your voice, and neither does he, droning on and whispering sweet nothings you can barely understand as your mind is completely melted by the feeling of the penetration. 

You nearly collapse against the mattress, but he manages to catch your hips just in time. You claw at the sheets as he fills you to the base, and the blankets do little to muffle your cries. For a brief moment you wonder if anyone outside could hear you, but that worry is quickly pushed aside when you feel him pulling back. You dig your nails into your palm so hard you’re sure it’ll leave marks as you prepare for what’s about to come. 

The first thrust feels like it might break your mind. The head of his pale cock butts hard against your prostate, making you shriek like you never thought you could. You nearly tear a hole in the bedsheets with your desperate attempt

to find some sort of relief, and yet you don’t want any at all. Your body might be shaking like a leaf in a hurricane, but against all logic, your mind is screaming more, more, more!

“C-Claude—!” you yelp as he slams into you once more. 

“Suzanne!” he echoes in turn, ecstasy dripping from his voice, “Suzanne, my love, how I’ve waited for this…!”

He returns to kissing your neck, though much messier than before. He just needs to taste you, sucking and nipping and licking any spare bit of skin he can get to. If he feels so cold, you must feel so warm. 

He’s trying to be gentle, to go easy on you, but he’s struggling. You can feel him forcing himself to go slower. You need to encourage him. 

“Oh, Claude,” you moan, putting on the girliest voice you can muster, “faster! Faster, my love, please, give me more!” 

He’s more than happy to comply, and after a brief adjustment of his hold on you his pace increases tenfold. He’s grunting and huffing like an animal—and you’re underneath him, moaning and whimpering like a girl. 

“Suzanne, my darling, we’re going to do it,” he says suddenly, and you have no idea what he means. He pulls you in closer, pressing you against his chest more firmly. 

“We’re going to do it,” he repeats, “we’re going to have our family…I want to— no, I need to give you my child.” 

The sound that comes out of you is humiliating. 

You’ve never wanted anything more than for him to cum inside of you in this moment. 

“Yes,” you reply without thinking, “yes, yes!” 

He only thrusts into you faster, fueled completely by your mutual desire. Both of his hands are on your hips now, holding tightly and pulling you back against him as he pushes in. The bed is rocking so hard it feels like it might collapse underneath you. Even if it did, neither of you would even consider stopping, not for a second. 

He’s starting to lose his rhythm, you realize. He’s just as sensitive as you are. He wants this just as much, if not more. You can’t even string together a coherent sentence to beg for it, all you can do is let the string of pleasured noises fall from your lips, only occasionally managing to say his name. He chants back ‘Suzanne’ like it’s the only word he knows; it’s the only one that matters to him, at least. 

You jump when he wraps a hand around your cock, pumping it quickly with little to no consistent pattern. He’s practically milking it, rubbing fast and hard and doing everything in his power to push you to your peak. 

“Cum for me, my love,” he huffs, “let me feel you cum around my cock…won’t you give me the privilege?” 

“Of course, my darling,” you reply. How could you say no? 

Your orgasm starts to build faster than you’re ready for. You can barely choke out an understandable warning before your cock twitches and spills its load, spurting into his hand and certainly dirtying the bedding underneath you. He buries his face in your neck as your hole squeezes him deliciously, making him cry out at the feeling. 

“Yes, my love— Oh god, yes!” he almost sobs. He’s completely lost his rhythm now, just rutting into you like a feral dog in heat as he chases his own high. 

He gives one last cry of his bride’s name before suddenly he stills, and his cock spills into you. You’re not sure what it feels like—you don’t think any human experience could ever compare—but it’s certainly not unpleasant. It’s not the warm, sticky feeling dripping down your thighs, at least. 

You nearly black out for a moment, your head spinning like a top with no relief in sight. Darkness is quickly clouding your vision as you come down from your intense high, and you barely register the gentle kiss Claude presses to your cheek before the cold feeling against your back is gone. You close your eyes then, unable to keep them open any longer. 

You’re not sure how long it’s been when you awake again. Logically, it couldn’t have been more than a few minutes, but you feel like you’ve been asleep for years. You slowly move to sit up, and instantly you’re made painfully aware of the soreness in your legs and lower back. You groan, forcing yourself to move to sit on the edge of the bed. 

You’re still very naked, that’s for sure. You look down between your legs, and grimace at the sight of the luminescent ectoplasm glowing in the dim light as it drips from your thighs and ass. 

The thing that really stands out, though, is the state of the room. Whatever you saw before must’ve been some sort of ghostly illusion; now you’re surrounded by nothing but charred black, sticking to your legs and palms and floating about in the air in flaky little bits. 

Yuck. 

You sigh as you will yourself to get up, not enjoying the feeling of your one bare foot on the dusty wood floor. You can barely walk far enough to retrieve the costume dress, let alone bend down and pick it up, but by some divine intelligence you manage. 

After redressing to the best of your ability, you limp back downstairs—talk about a walk of shame. Although, despite your embarrassment, you do note that the house feels…emptier. Lighter. It’s nice. 

You don’t have an excuse for why you’re so disheveled, or why you’re walking so weirdly, or why you’re so sweaty. You don’t care. You’re going to walk out that door, get your last half of the payment, and go home and get a good night’s sleep knowing that, in some impossibly strange way, you did a good thing. 

The one thing you will never admit, though, is that you were very wrong: 

Ghosts are real. 

And you have the wet dream to prove it. 

If you liked this fic, please reblog! it’s free, takes two seconds, and really helps me out. 

Feedback is encouraged and appreciated.

[reenaki]

Bday boy hug :)

[st-el-la-luna]

El's COD Kinktober 2024

I figured this would be a good way to keep my blog alive. Expect short pieces, and missed days. But I will do my best

NSFW Minors DNI

1. SOMNOPHILIA: JOHNNY "SOAP" MACTAVISH

Soap wakes up to you moaning in your sleep. He helps you make your dreams a reality.

➳ gnlafab!reader, wet dreams, somnophilia, dry humping, fingering, premature ejaculation, use of "pup" once

2. Sensory Deprivation/Blindfolds: John Price x Reader

Somehow it's better when you don't know it's coming

3. Double Penetration: Alejandro Vargas and Rodolfo Parra x Reader

Your Colonel and Sergeant comfort you the day after a bad date

4. Lingerie: Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader

You want to surprise Ghost for his birthday. Things go wrong, in perhaps the best way.

5. Mommy Kink: Philip Graves x Reader

After a particularly long mission and several bad months at the company, Graves' spirits are low. He needs someone to take care of him, to tell him he's good

6. Threesome: Kyle "Gaz" Garrick and König x Reader

KorTac has been working alongside Task Force 141 for a while now. Kyle has always had his eye on you, but it becomes clear that the Austrian giant feels the same. Tensions rise between the two until they decide to prove which of them is best once and for all

7. Restraints: Kim "Horangi" Hon-jin x Reader

Horangi is in debt to you and your going to teach him a lesson: either he pays you back monetarily or...

8. Body Worship: Alex Keller x Reader 

Alex thinks every inch of your body is perfect. And he won't stop telling you until he's sure you believe it too.

9. Face Sitting: Kyle "Gaz" Garrick x Reader

Gaz overhears you telling Soap you've never enjoyed receiving oral. He decides to change that

10. Exhibitionism: Nikolai x Reader

Nik likes to show you off whenever he can. The Task Force has been eyeing you too much as of late. He reminds them who you belong to.

11. Thigh Fucking: König x Reader

König is just too big

12. Breeding: Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader

Mid-fuck, Ghost let's slip that he wants to be a mommy.

13. Overstimulation: Rodolfo Parra x Reader

After everything that happened with the Shadow Company, you're just glad to have him back. Your relief at his wellbeing quickly becomes more and, well, you have a lot of stress to work off. But he can take it.

14. Free Use: Kyle "Gaz" Garrick x Reader 

You and Kyle have an agreement. Whatever either of you want to do, whenever you want to do it. You both enjoy your agreement.

15. Blood Kink: Nikto x Reader

Nikto comes to your door, desperate. You tell him you can't, you're on your period. Blood has never bothered him before, why would it now?

16. Dry Humping: John "Soap" MacTavish x Reader 

You can't, it's a sin... Luckily even God leaves loopholes.

17. Uniform Kink: Philip Graves x Reader

He can't get enough of the way you look, all dressed up for this event. And you can't get enough of him in his dress uniform.

18. Cockwarming: Alejandro Vargas x Reader 

There's nothing Alejandro likes more than coming home to you. And to his second home, between your legs.

19. Pegging: Alex Keller x Reader

One of his friends bought it as a gag gift. You laughed. Alex didn't.

20. Oral Fixation: Kyle "Gaz" Garrick x Reader

Gaz notices how you've always got something in your mouth; a pencil, gum, a lollipop. He can tell it calms you. At a formal event, he senses your stress and gives you something to help ground yourself.

21. Corruption Kink/Loss of Virginity: Johnny "Soap" MacTavish x Reader

After months of dating and never doing more than make out, you ask Soap when you're going to, well, do it. His answer surprises you, and you learn something about yourself that's even more surprising.

22. Spit: König x Reader 

In the heat of an argument you spit at your Colonel's feet.

23. Choking: Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader

An accidental training misshap leaves Ghost reeling, you help pull him in.

24. Werewolf: Keegan P Russ x Reader

Little Red Riding Hood, you should know better than to wander the woods at night alone. Especially tonight.

25. Spanking: John Price x Reader

John decides to get you back for slapping his ass in front of his men.

26. Predator/Prey: Valeria Garza x Reader

You and Valeria play a game of hide and seek with a twist...

27. Praise: John Price x Reader

Joyn worries he isn't good enough, that he's gone too often. That he's a bad person. You assure him none of its true.

28. Boot Worship: Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader

You show Simon your new boots. He reacts unexpectedly.

29. Hair Pulling: John "Soap" MacTavish x Reader

You accidentally grab his hair during a spar. He moans like a whore.

30. Cumplay: Poly!141 x Reader

Soap had an idea for a fun game. You're just surprised he was able to rope the others into it too.

31. Wild Card

[mariamakeslemons]

Kinktober 2024: Day 2 Piercing/Double Penetration/Voyeurism

Warning: Reader is AFAB (attempted Gender Neutral), Reader is called Bunny and Soap's called Pup, terrible attempts at accents, uncovered sex (wrap 'em up!) MDNI

John sits in a chair with Kyle between his legs, the two of them watching as Simon and Johnny help you undress for what you’ve taken to calling The Show. Sometimes, John doesn’t want to actively being in the thick of sex, but he wants the thrill of control. So, you and the boys will put on The Show, letting John direct just how it’s going to go.

“Slow down, Sweetheart,” he tells you, “Let Soap be a good boy and take it off you.” You shudder and comply, letting Johnny slowly pull off your clothes. John huffs and orders, “Ghost, don’t jus’ stand there like a lump. Give our bunny a kiss for being so good.”

“Yessir,” Simon rumbles, leaning down to pepper your face with kisses before pressing your lips together, rapidly deepening the kiss as Johnny finishes pulling off your clothes and he starts to kiss and nip your skin.

“Calm down, pup,” John orders. Johnny immediately whines, but complies, pressing kisses on the bites he’s already made on your skin in apology. You break the kiss you have with Simon to coax Johnny into a kiss, keeping his mouth busy as to not be bitten again. Simon takes that as permission to press kisses down your body, kneeling at your feet.

“That’s it, Simon,” John coos, “Be a good boy and prep our bunny with your tongue.” He complies, pulling one of your legs to rest on his shoulder before diving in. You moan into Johnny’s mouth, glancing over at the chair John’s sitting in. Kyle seems to have decided to distract him by mouthing at John’s pants so sweetly, John rubbing at Kyle’s head as his blue eyes watch you and the boys.

“Pay attention to the boys, Bunny,” John gently scolds, pulling his cock out for Kyle to eagerly swallow. You comply, releasing Johnny’s mouth to moan as Simon devours your pussy.

“Sir, Sir, C’n Ah? Please?” Johnny pleads as your hands find Simon’s hair.

“Y’ wanna eat our Bunny’s arse so bad?” John asks, sounding completely unaffected by Kyle’s mouth on his cock or the show before him, “Then go ahead Pup. Make it sloppy for yourself.”

“Yessir,” Johnny obeys eagerly, dropping to his knees and immediately shoving his tongue into your ass. You throw your head back with a groan, one of your hands blindly searching for Johnny’s hair. You faintly hear John mumble praises to Kyle when you are finally able to thread your fingers through Johnny’s mohawk, pressing him firmly against your ass. Simon slurps at your clit while his fingers press in, stretching you for what’s to come. You moan and pull the behemoth of a man closer with your leg that’s over his shoulder, balancing so precariously on one leg that threatens to collapse under you from the pleasure.

“Put Bunny on the bed,” John suddenly orders, “Pup on the bottom, Simon on top. You boys get the hole you prepped.” Johnny manages to fling you onto the bed, badly as your torso flops hard on the edge of the bed, leaving you to crawl up yourself while he struggles with his jeans. Simon huffs, undoing his own pants easily to reveal the ladder on the underside of his cock. You bite your lower lip in arousal as Johnny reveals his magic cross and the two frenum piercings on the underside as he finally drops his pants. Then, Johnny falls face first on the bed, his knees hitting the floor loudly. All movement in the room stops at the abrupt fall, Kyle even pulling away from John’s cock to see what the hell just happened.

“…Y’ okay there, Johnny?” Simon asks casually, causing you to let out a cackle at Johnny’s misstep.

“Away an’ bile yer heid,” Johnny huffs, finally clamoring onto the bed with a pout. You snicker while peppering kisses all over the sweet boy’s face, Kyle snickering as well before it turns into a muffled moan by John pushing his head back against the thick length John calls a cock.

“Alright, enough out of you lot,” John scolds with a chuckle and a smile. His eyes turn back to the bed as he orders, “Get on top of Pup, Bunny. Your back t’ his front.” You comply wordlessly, gasping and moaning as Johnny takes that as permission to push his fat cock into your ass. Simon gently shushes you, running his hands up and down your sides to soothe you before pushing in your pussy. The whine that leaves your mouth is one of arousal, feeling so full with the men you love you could bust.

“What a good Bunny we’ve got,” John praises, scratching lightly at Kyle’s hair and scalp while the boys on the bed start to move, “Already so cock drunk and they haven’t even started fucking you proper.”

“A very good Bun,” Simon agrees, fucking into you a little harder, a little rougher. You keen, clenching around both his and Johnny’s cock as they start to fuck you properly. You arch and push back as each thrust tries to dislodge you from the other cock, your mouth busy with Simon’s as Johnny goes back to nipping and gnawing on your skin.

“Soap,” John tries to scold, but it comes out as a moan instead. Glancing away briefly, you see that Kyle is really focused on sucking on John’s cock, deepthroating it before pulling back to suckle on the head. Luckily, Johnny took the warning, despite how weak it is, once again kissing the marks he made.

“Sorry, bonnie Bunny,” Johnny mumbles into your skin, laving affection on your skin.

“Shouldn’t’ve done it in th’ firs’ place,” Simon growls, thrusting into your pussy rapidly as his thumb finds your clit. You whine, trying to chase Simon’s mouth. He shushes you, nipping your bottom lip before pressing a proper kiss to your mouth again, his tongue diving in to play with your own. Johnny licks a stripe up your neck, startling you from the kiss, before turning your head and taking his own.

“Boys, if you can’t play nice, Kyle and I’ll take our Bunny and show you how to,” John threatens with a growl. Immediately, the aggression dissolves into softness as two sets of hands gently run up and down your sides apologetically, Johnny breaking your kiss to pepper kisses on Simon’s faces. Simon takes the kisses easily, catching Johnny’s face for a proper kiss while still keeping tempo as they continue to fuck you. The image of them kissing, combined with the wonderful rubbing their piercings are doing inside you, is enough for you to cum with a loud moan.

“What a good Bunny,” John coos, before tensing and groaning as he cums down Kyle’s throat. Kyle hums happily, swallowing the cum easily before pulling back as Simon and Johnny thrust a few times more before cumming themselves. The three of you collapse on the bed, a little whine escaping your mouth as Simon practically crushes you into Johnny.

“Look at that,” John murmurs, suddenly closer, “Look at how good they were.”

“V-Very good, S-Sir,” Kyle stutters, his breath shaky. You blink bleary eyes, and turn your head, seeing that John is now standing at the side of the bed, Kyle’s back against his chest as his large hand wraps around Kyle’s pretty cock. You shimmy and shift, shaking as Simon and Johnny’s soft cocks plop out of you, and crawl away. Just in time, it seems as Kyle lets out his own moan and cums all over the two men’s faces. John clicks his tongue in disapproval, but seems to relent when you drag yourself back and softly lick up the mess on their faces.

“Fuck, Bunny,” Kyle breathes, making a grabbing motion to you. You follow easily, sharing his own cum with him as you make out.

“Fook,” Johnny whines, “They cannae keep lookin’ so good, LT.”

“Do I look like I can control ‘ow pretty they are?” Simon immediately asks, causing you and Kyle to pull apart with laughter.

“Alright, you lot,” John commands with a clap, “T’ the showers.”

[the-californicationist]

Cali's Kinktober: Day 19

Kinktober Masterlist aegri somnia - “troubled dreams” TF141 x f!reader Kinks > sex-pollen, gangbang, semipublic, corruption Full tags on AO3 - MDNI - Read at your own risk.

You’re at a costume party on Halloween night on base with your team. The whole gang is there, and they sample something …strange… from the bar. The only cure for their fever? You.

Warning: drugged sex, dubcon, sex-pollen style scene, anal, vaginal, face fucking, some ghoap.

You were a kitty cat. Past tense. Now, you looked like a chimney sweep. This Halloween party had gotten way out of hand. The heating was cranked up to ninth-circle-of-Hell temperatures, and everyone was dancing, sweating, and getting completely fucking sloshed. 

Your whiskers and nose had long been rubbed away, and you’d lost the cat ears somewhere between the upstairs toilet and the sandpit volleyball game that the boys had set up in the basement. Two months of deadtime in the Urzikstani Green Zone had been great for morale but shit for discipline. Price was gonna be so pissed when he saw how Soap had painted the TAC-V like a big pumpkin. 

“You alright, love?” Gaz slurred, stumbling a bit before resting his arm around your shoulder, half-in and half-out of his own Paddington Bear getup. He still had the red hat, but the blue jacket was tied around his waist, and the matching shorts looked like little more than boxer briefs. 

“Yeah,” you nodded, “Parched. What’s that?” You pointed to his hand, jealous that he had a cold beverage. 

“Mm,” he took a sip and handed you the cup, “I dunno. Soap was passin’ it around. Orange, mysterious, probably lethal.”

“I’ll take my chances,” you laughed, downing the last sip.

“Speak of the devil…” Gaz nodded over to the makeshift bar.

There, on top of two stacks of crates, stood Soap, pouring his orange concoction right into Simon Riley’s open mouth. Soap was dressed in a little red devil outfit, complete with pitchfork, and Ghost was… well, he was just himself. The skeleton mask did the trick, you supposed. 

You shook your head, laughing at them, and Soap looked up to see you there. 

“Oy! C’mere, bonnie. Got somethin’ special for ya.”

“I don’t like the sound of that,” you grumbled, walking over to the bar with Gaz in tow.

Soap was crouched over in his tight red onesie, digging through an ice chest. He emerged with a wide, mischievous smile on his face and a bottle of eerie, murky liquid.

“Pinched this from Ale and Rudy when they were in last night. Probably that killer tequila he’s been on about. Didnae wanna try it by meself.”

He started to pour out four cups, and you turned your nose up at it,

“Oh, Jesus, Johnny. This smells like piss.”

“Quit your whingin’, lass. You’ve had worse things in your mouth,” he winked, downing his shot and wearing a twisted face of immediate regret.

“Suppose that’s right,” you shrugged, drinking down your own. 

It rushed through you like burning fire, and it made you feel like you’d been punched right in the jaw. 

“Holy fuck,” Simon coughed, “The hell is this, Johnny? Fuckin’ petrol?”

“I’m gonna be sick,” Gaz complained, trying to breathe slowly in through his nose and out through his mouth. 

“Ach! C’mon, it’s not that bad,” Johnny protested, going back for a second dose.

Suddenly, a husky voice came out of the darkness behind the crates, 

“What’s all this then?”

“Oh, hey, Cap’n,” Johnny tried to look normal. He failed, but at least he tried.

Price rolled his eyes, but he held out his cup and held it out to the sergeant,

“Go on, then. Give us a taste.”

You watched as Price took two big gulps, your own stomach turning from the memory, and gaped in amazement as he mostly controlled his expression. Show off.

You were already sweaty, but this tequila made you feel like you were going to burn right up. You wanted to move. The music was deafening, and even though you didn’t know this song, you begged Gaz for a dance. 

“C’mon! Just one.”

“Alright, love. But, you know I can never have just one,” he twirled you around, making you feel even drunker than you were, and led you out into the warehouse where Ghost had rigged his huge boombox to make a dance floor.

Everyone was dancing. Time was moving at an insane rate. Fast and slow, dilating in and out, and you were like a shadow, letting it pass right through you, drunk and high and everything in between. 

Soap and Ghost joined you, and Price watched on from the edge, smoking and looking a little red around his eyes. 

Suddenly, Gaz’s hands were on your hips, pulling you back into him, grinding you against his crotch.

“Hey,” you turned over your shoulder, “What’s goin’ on?”

“Nothin’, babes. Just dancin’. That alright?”

You nodded, smiling up at him, 

“Yeah, I guess so. Feels like this tequila went right to my head.”

“This fat arse is goin’ right to mine,” he said, staring down at your butt, squeezing it roughly.

You felt his cock through his shorts as he danced with you, rubbing himself against your leotard and fishnet combination, chasing his own high. 

Soap joined you, dancing in front of you, lacing his legs between yours, dancing even closer to you than Gaz. He looped one arm around your neck, and he threaded the other around your waist, moving his hips in time with the beat, drinking another cupful of tequila when he got the chance. 

Ghost was behind him, and he began peeling off the lycra onesie, revealing Soap’s broad chest to you, rubbing him down with his hands, playing with his nipples in front of the entire base.

Had you been in your right mind, you would’ve balked at such behavior. But, for some reason, it felt right. You wanted to touch him, too. So, you did. 

You reached out in front of you and ran your hands down his belly, lowering the zipper even further, feeling his heated skin.

“Mmf-fuck,” Ghost moaned, “Tha’s hot.”

Soap seemed to agree, his arching erection obvious through the thin, red outfit. 

Gaz’s hands moved from your ass to your tits, squeezing them as he pulled your body against him, thrusting himself against you to the rhythm of the drum and bass, letting you feel his incredible length across your backside. 

“Look at these, mate,” Gaz cooed in your ear, talking to the other boys, massaging your breasts and pulling at the fabric of your leotard until it almost let your heavy tits fall out. 

“Gaz… what’s…” You tried to clear your mind, “What’s gotten into you lads?”

Your lieutenant leaned forward across Soap’s shoulder and kissed you through his balaclava, moving his mouth into yours, letting you feel the outline of his full lips. You tried to kiss him back, using your hands to flip up the edge of his mask, finding his chin and cheek, moving over so you could taste him properly. 

He was full of that dark tequila, and a hint of his menthols, musky and manly in the most enticing way. When he pulled away, he went immediately to Soap’s neck, sucking on his flesh and making him moan aloud in the middle of the dance floor. 

Suddenly, a large, strong hand gripped your face and turned you towards him, kissing you full on the mouth. His beard and mustache were the only giveaways that it was your captain, feeding you his tongue and choking you with it greedily. 

What was happening? This was insane. Something was wrong. What was in that drink?

“Cap,” you whispered when he allowed you space for a breath, “What’s happening?”

“Need you, love. Need you right fuckin’ now.”

Gaz’s hands reached into your leotard, around your cotton cat tail, and tugged at the gusset. The button snaps popped, revealing your ass, covered only in fishnets. He dug his fingers into the large holes of the fishnet leggings and pulled, ripping them apart, making room for his fingers to sink themselves into your dripping hole. 

You fell forward, grabbing onto Johnny’s shoulders, loving the way Gaz’s hand felt as he moved it inside of you, each finger was like its own challenge, delving into you and reaching for your soft spots.

“Fuck, she’s wet,” Gaz revealed, and you felt your cheeks warm with shame.

Soap smiled down at you, reaching between your legs on his own accord,

“Oh? Is that so, bonnie girl?”

He touched you right beside Gaz, both of their hands vying for position, sometimes shoving their fingers into you at the same time As Gaz would pull away, Soap would bully his knuckles forward, swiping up into you like a greedy thief, reaching for more of your silky wetness. Then, Gaz would return, playing at your clit and then feeding two of his fingers inside of you again, stretching you to make room for both his and Johnny’s eager hands, not caring who was there first or whether or not you were enjoying yourself. 

You were enjoying yourself. But, that was beside the point. Weren’t you at a party? What were you doing before this? There were other people around, right?

But, they suddenly didn’t matter. Price tugged down your shoulder strap to reveal your breast. He marveled at the puffy nipple, pebbled and waiting for his mouth. He bent and began to suckle from you, feeding his other hand across your chest, groping you under the fabric of your outfit as he pulled you into his mouth.

Johnny’s ragged moan cut through the fog of your pleasure, and you looked up at him. He was nearly naked, his devil horns the only thing left from the waist up, and Ghost was kneeling behind him, his mask pushed up, eating his sergeant’s asshole and spreading his cheeks apart cruelly. 

You reached down to feel Soap’s cock, and it was leaking through the fabric, barely concealed anymore by the costume. You pulled him free, jerking him off, smearing his glossy precome all over his pulsing, pink head. 

Price grew tired of your clothing, and he began to rip your costume away from you. Gaz helped him, pulling and tugging and tearing at the fabric. You were left in your fishnets and heels, stumbling between the men surrounding you, feeling the tequila worm its way into your core, stirring your body and making you yearn to be fucked by their heavy pricks. 

Gaz was the first to press himself into you. You were shoved forward, your face smashed into Johnny’s furry belly, his sweat painting your cheek, and Gaz held you in place. He gripped your hips with a painful clutch of his hands, and he swiped his dick through your lips, back and forth, coating himself in your wet warmth. Then, that familiar, aching stretch, and he was inside of you, humping his cock into you deeper and deeper, filling the empty space within your core. 

“Holy fuck,” Price purred, grabbing you by your hair at the nape of your neck.

He pulled you toward him, his fat prick in his hands, and fed himself into your mouth, shoving your head down onto his shaft, choking you with his girth. 

Soap pulled you from him, giving you the same treatment, and you could taste the salty precome that he was leaking with, using the momentum of Gaz fucking you to find a rhythm with your mouth. 

They took turns using you, moving you back and forth, fucking your throat until it burned, pushing you further and further down until your nose was buried in their dense curls, tickling you with the matted fur at the root of their cocks. All you could do was swallow and try to breathe, but it was little use. You were drooling all over them, unable to control your body and its desperate attempt to prepare you for their huge pricks. 

Gaz had ripped an orgasm from you twice, making you scream around the base of Price’s cock, shoving his thumb into your twitching, tight asshole as his cock ruined your pussy. He was well and truly gone, at this point. His grunting was like that of a beast, and you could feel the sweat dripping off of him and onto your back. 

Ghost grew tired of tasting Johnny’s asshole, and now he was fucking him in shallow, huffing thrusts. Every time he would push himself further into his hole, Johnny would leak a little more, his come running down his shaft like sap from a huge trunk, sticky and sweet and endless. 

You were in the middle of tasting Johnny’s dripping head when you felt Gaz bottom out inside of you. Then, he shouted out a long, whining, rumble as he pumped you full of his come. You felt it spilling out of him, pouring into your cunt, spraying rope after rope of his seed into your walls, soaking your hole, desperate to seep into your womb.

Price all but shouldered Gaz out of the way, manhandling your body until you were wrapped in his arms, your legs slung over each giant bicep, and you were being lowered onto his impossible phallus. 

“I… I can’t…” You protested, unsure of whether or not you would survive whatever your captain had to give you.

“You will,” he purred darkly, his voice demonic in its timbre, “Oh, baby, you will.”

He slipped his head into your hole, but that was all that slipped. Everything else was an uphill battle. You wrapped your arms around his neck, trying to take some of the weight off of your core, but it was no use, he was using his heavy hands to pull you down onto him, squeezing himself inside inch by agonizing inch. You said a prayer of thanks to whatever sick gods were watching your debasement that he was not as long as Kyle.

You hissed in a breath when he reached a new level of thickness that your body had never experienced before.

“Shh, shh,” he cooed in your ear, “Be a good girl, love. Relax for me.”

His hands readjusted, moving lower to pull your cheeks apart, and he used his middle finger to dip into your asshole, playing in Gaz’s dripping come, swirling it around the puckered rim, teasing you by prodding you with shallow thrusts of his finger.

It was enough to distract you from what he was doing to your poor pussy, and he shoved himself in to the base, shocking you enough that your blood ran cold. You held your breath, unable to even cry out. It was as if you were a machine that had been unplugged. You were gone. Your captain had fucked your mind right out of your head. 

“That’s it. There she is,” he smiled sinisterly, pumping himself in and out, using your own weight to fuck you on his heavy rod. 

Two, greedy hands reached around to grope your breasts, grabbing them roughly, pinching your nipples until you whimpered and squirmed. Johnny was behind you, being fucked hard by Ghost, teasing your heavy breasts and rubbing his cock against your ass. 

Price’s hands were in the way, but when he felt Johnny’s cock, he positioned you so that his sergeant could reach. Then, you felt Johnny’s slick cockhead writhe its way inside the very brink of your asshole. He was so close to coming, it didn’t take much depth to take him there. As Simon fucked him, he thrust himself up into you, stretching your hole, unable to fit inside as deep as he would’ve liked with Price in the way. There was just no room. 

Johnny came in you messily and with total abandon. He bit down on your shoulder, keening and groaning, spending himself inside your asshole and letting it drool out of you as he left you there, warring with Price and his weapon.

Ghost let Johnny sink to the floor, and he took his place behind you. He was as tall as the captain, and his cock was almost as large, but there was no gentle rubbing like what Johnny had given you. Simon spread you wide, making you cry out from the way you were being spread apart, your cunt desperately clenching around Price, trying to find a way to hold onto something, anything. Then, he fed his cock inside your asshole, wet already from Johnny’s greedy core, shoving and pushing and squeezing his way beside Price, not taking any sort of laws of physics too seriously.

He began to kiss your neck, staying perfectly still and buried in you to the hilt, letting Price do all the work. The captain kissed you on the other side, biting you and leaving huge red marks where his teeth were too mean on your tender flesh. 

“Too fuckin’ tight,” Ghost complained, moaning into your skin.

“Knew she could take it,” Price smiled, kissing your slack mouth.

“Needy slag,” your lieutenant growled, leaving marks of his own all across your throat. 

He was playing with your tits, pinching your nipples between his forefinger and thumb, holding them up and out, making you feel like you were trapped in his hands. Then, he would knead them, feeling the weighty softness, enjoying your vulnerability, revelling in your corruption. 

Price’s thick cock was moving you both, shoving and bullying Simon’s dick through the thin flesh between your holes, making his masked officer harden like a stone inside of you. 

“M’gonna come in you,” Ghost promised, whispering against your earlobe, sucking it into his mouth. 

You could only cry out, your brain too fuck-drunk to make any words. Sluts didn’t need words. They just needed to come hard and clench their tight little holes around these two, huge cocks. You were nothing more than a hole to be filled. 

Simon thrust in opposite motions from Price, moving himself through your asshole at an absurd speed, fucking you into a shuddering orgasm, and blowing his load deep inside your belly. You could feel its creamy warmth, and as he pulled out of you, you felt it drip from your gaping hole, mixing with Johnny’s fallen seed on the floor. 

Price was still pounding away, brute that he was. Now that he was alone, he lay you on the crate beside him and held your knees open wide, splaying your thighs apart and staring at his cock as it thrust through your folds. 

You were moaning like a paid whore, coming in waves, your whole body feeling the effects of your pleasure, full of come and hungry for more. 

Suddenly, the music kicked off with a thud and you heard laughter coming from across the room.

“Déjame adivinar…” Alejandro’s rude tone came through loud and clear, “You filthy perritos got into my Damiana, verdad?”

Rudy reached behind the crates that Gaz and Soap were leaning against, panting, sweating, and covered in come. Then, he pulled out the bottle, half-empty. He let out a low, pitying whistle, watching as Price buried himself in you with loud, wet slapping noises filling the room, 

“No mames, güey,” he shook his head, showing Alejandro the bottle, “Mira. They’ll be hard until next week.”

“Mierda!” Alejandro cursed your group, all worn out in your pitiful states, “This was expensive stuff. I had it made by a bruja! Extra strong. You owe me, pendejos.”

Their crackling laughter made your head spin, and as you listened to the pounding of flesh on flesh, you knew you were in for a long fucking night.

Hope you enjoyed this year's Kinktober adventure! Thanks for sticking around. Happy Halloween, everyone!

If you enjoyed this story, please consider leaving me a like or a comment to let me know. As always, reblogs are deeply appreciated. Want more from me? Check my AO3 profile. I have over 100 COD fics! (I know, crazy.) Discord: @californicationist

[temeyes]

don't forget to kiss your babes goodnight!