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ghosts-cyphera · 7 months

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Everything you write is a banger 🫶 and you are RIGHT, ghost loves sloppy blowjobs but especially the noises like loves hearing his beautiful gf gag on his huge dick while staring up at him with watery eyes (please euthanize me)

you people are being so good to me like what on earth did I do to deserve this? I love you! thank you so, so much 💕🫶🏻 also… say fucking less, my love.

warnings/content: simon ‘ghost’ riley x gn!reader. blowjob, deep-throating, mentions of spit and tears. swallowing. slight degradation if you squint, but ghost only adores you! words: 762. 18+, mdni.

Ghost’s calloused fingers caressed your cheek, and he lifted your head to look at him. On your knees before him you looked even softer and sweeter than you usually did.

So goddamn obedient.

From the sight, his cock—painfully erect—twitched above your face. Mere seconds earlier he had pulled it out of your throat, your lips releasing it with a soft pop: your body desperate for one of those breaths that he knew would burn your lungs from the mere intensity of your inhale.

He did love to push you to your limit. His sweetheart turned into a cock-drunk little thing. Lips glistening, eyes pleading for more. Your spit dripping down your jaw in a pretty little stream, lubing you up so fuckin’ nice and good for his use.

He’d been fucking your mouth—your throat—for so long, that by now, he knew your body felt empty without the weight of his thick length on your tongue.

And who the fuck was he to deny that from you, eh?

“Tongue out, darlin’.”

Not a hint of hesitation flashed in your eyes as you let him see the pretty pink of it. You were so goddamn fuckin’ beautiful like this: the sounds that passed your lips so goddamn pretty as he pushed back in.

“There ya fuckin’ go. Come on, luv, take it all, yeah?”

The thick weight of him in your mouth muffled out most of your gasps and moans, yet never the sound of your gags. So fuckin’ sweet, as he pushed into your throat, his hand on the back of your head helping you to align your throat better. To allow him deeper down.

“Fuckin’ ‘ell, baby, that’s it. Just like that—“

He could feel your throat relaxing around him once more. Your gags easing, your shoulders letting go of their nervous tension: the sudden ease allowing his balls to press against your bottom lip as he bottomed out.

“Fuckin’ right, doll.” He was downright seeing stars by then: your mouth so fuckin’ soft and warm and wet around him that had this been his first time using you like this, he would’ve damn sure passed out from the pure fuckin’ bliss. “My darlin’s takin’ it so fuckin’ good, yeah?”

Ghost’s fingers caressed your cheek, soft and adoring: so at odds with the mess that he was making of you. Sliding out, only to feed every last fuckin’ inch of his cock back down your throat, somehow only deeper than the last time.

“Fuckin’—eyes on me, yeah, luv?”

Your gaze found his in an instant: the beauty of your eyes only highlighted by the glimmer of your tears, accompanied by the softest twinkle of his darlin’ seeking his approval.

Your body was begging for more: only opening up further around the brutal size of his cock, allowing him to pick up his pace.

In and out: your spit running past your lips.

In and fuckin’ out, as you forced your eyes to stay locked with his. How fuckin’ scary he must’ve looked, towering over you with his goddamn mask on.

Fuck, how he would make you feel so loved and adored after. Work so hard on showin’ you how much you meant to him.

Christ al-fuckin’-mighty.

His eyes blinking shut, Ghost leaned his head back as his fingers around your head tightened their grip. Now chasing after his orgasm, he listened to your gags and whimpers: the desperation of your spit dripping past your lips as he used you for his pleasure.

His sweet little thing.

His perfect fuckin' darlin’.

“So goddamn fuckin’ close, baby—“

Ghost forced his gaze to meet yours, and that—fuckin’ hell, that was all that he needed. Seeing the knit of your brows as your twinkling eyes begged for his cum down your throat, so fuckin’ well trained.

So fuckin’ sweet.

With a deep curse and a rumbling call for your name, his cock pumped thick ropes of his seed down your throat.

Chuckling, as your eyes watered.

Praising you, his voice low yet warm, as he felt you swallowing around him before he pulled out with a soft pop.

Smiling from pure pride, as Ghost crouched by you and drew you into the deepest of kisses, full of adoration for you.

For his sweetheart.

His little fuckin’ champ.

masterlist | requests are open 💌

#can you tell how damn bad I need to get on my knees for this man? like jesus god please #also I took a benzo for sleep right before I began writing this (prescribed by my doc—do not abuse drugs!) so I hope this makes sense lmao #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley smut #simon riley x you #lo answers

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beesspacedotorg · 4 months

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Handle With Care

Summary: You've had a truly awful day, luckily, your adoring boyfriend Minho is there to make it better. 2.5k words

Warnings: there's sex, but honestly it feels like someone accidentally got porn in my fluff so do with that what you will. reader is as gender neutral as physically possible. reader is also lowkey a crybaby, sorry but actually I'm not

Notes: Hello adoring public. It turns out, I can write fanfiction, and with the encouragement of Juno and Ems, I can also post it! There is a cat in this, she was inspired by a cat my family used to have and a cat my family currently has. They're both calico which I think explains everything you need to know about them.

There’s a lot you can say about the day you had today, and most of them start with sh- and end in -itty. You’re thinking on this as you dive head first onto the rough material of your couch, great for sitting, bad for face planting. You hear a scratching by your head and absentmindedly bat your cat away from the arm of the couch, mumbling something about how she has a perfectly good cat tree two feet away before resuming your completely justified sulking.

“Oh, hello. I didn’t hear you come home. How was your day?” There’s a voice above you and you can picture him in your mind's eye, leaning against the back of the couch as he stares at your limp form, probably eyeing the shoes you didn’t take off by the door. You mumble something half hearted in response and he huffs before the sound of walking hits your ears and all the breath leaves your body at once. He’s sitting on you. This motherfucker is sitting on you.

“Get off, Minho” You had to tilt your head to the side, it’s hard enough to breathe through couch fabric as is, much less when there’s a full grown man sitting on your back.

“You should answer people when they try to talk to you, jagiya.”

“You shouldn’t sit on people while they’re laying down, yeobo.” Your voice is a lot more acidic than his was and a twinge of guilt settles on you before it dissipates as he shifts and manages to place more weight on your back.

“Hmm. I guess we’re both doing things that we shouldn’t then. How tragic.” His voice is deadpan, and you still can’t see him from where your head is turned- your view is limited to the back of the couch and his arm in your periphery- but you can feel the dead stare he’s aiming at your skull. There’s a silence for a few moments while you engage in a war of attrition, neither of you willing to give up just yet, but it’s getting genuinely hard to breathe and your back is starting to hurt.

“It sucked, please get off.” He does, patting your back consolingly.

“See? Was that so hard?” He guides your head to his lap as you both sit back down, petting over your hair like he would his cats. “Tell me, what’s got my baby in such a tizzy?”

You grumble at him, rolling over to shove your face into his stomach, tired and petulant. He sighs softly, but keeps patting your head, so you know he’s mostly just doing it for show.

“That kind of day, hmm, jagi?” And you nod again. Honestly, it wasn’t much different from a normal day, it’s just that the right things managed to go very wrong and subsequently ruined your day in a way that has pressure forming behind your eyes and your voice cracking stupidly every time you try to talk.

You both sit for a while before he puts something on the TV and gently shoves your head off his lap.

“Hey-”

“Do you want the dinner I worked so hard on to go cold?” He has his hands on his hips in front of you and you laugh slightly at how funny he looks. He rolls his eyes and goes, coming back with two bowls of something before he forcefully sits you up and shoves it in your hands.

“Eat.”

“Yes, chef.”

The food is delicious, it always is when Minho cooks it, he’s got a talent for it you’ve never really seen firsthand, and you consider yourself truly blessed to be able to eat it as often as he’s able to make it for you. Still, gratefulness and taste aside, your day was shitty enough that every mouthful tastes like ash and turns to rot in your stomach, leaving you with an unsettling queasiness that shouldn’t ever be attributed to your boyfriend’s cooking. You’re shoving the contents around with a spoon before he huffs- a real one this time- and takes the bowl from you, setting it on the coffee table next to his own before he mutes the TV.

“Okay. Quite clearly something is wrong. What can I do to help you?” You think he knows, but you like that he asks anyway. Minho always asks, always lets you talk and sort out whatever’s going on before he tries to help. Even if your answer is a simple shake of the head, a simple, I don’t feel like it, become a mind reader, he always asks before he helps. Sometimes you wonder how he always knows what you need, others you just decide to not look a gift horse in the mouth.

You huff and your lip wobbles pathetically and he coos, slightly condescending.

“Crying already? I haven’t even done anything.” He’s teasing, but his hands are gentle as he pulls you into his lap, his hands are gentle as they find their way under your shirt, his mouth is gentle as it kisses down the side of your face to your neck.

“‘M sorry,” you’re not the biggest fan of crying, neither is he, but for different reasons. He’s not someone who’s brought to tears easily, you are, but there’s an inherent shame in it, you think. Something so embarrassing about getting worked up enough to start crying like a baby, and so as much and as often as you feel like crying, you don’t. This he also knows, because he knows everything.

“Aish, why are you sorry for? I didn’t tell you to apologize, did I?” He taps your cheek lightly, causing you to look up at him, he plants a kiss on your nose, then your mouth.

“Sweet thing, don’t worry about anything except for what I tell you to, okay?” And you nod and he smiles.

You’re not much for talking in times like these, everything is so sensitive and soft and talking feels like a cheese grater on this cloudlike moment so you don’t and he knows, so he doesn’t chide you for it. Usually, he would. He’d crack a hand down on your ass or grab a fistful of your hair and tell you that he asked you a question so he expects an answer, but that’s not what you need right now, so he doesn’t. He just kisses your jaw again before he puts both of his warm hands under your shirt and lets his fingers poke at your chest.

He always says his hands are small, but really, you wouldn’t be able to tell, not with the way he cups your chest in his hand and lets his thumb brush over your nipple, gentle and reverent. It’s not much, not as much as he usually gives you, but it’s enough to have your mouth dropping open with a gasp and your back arching into his hand, it’s enough to have him giggling softly at your reaction.

“Sensitive today?” He’s teasing again, as soft as he is right now, he’s still Minho, he still likes to poke fun. You huff, biting at his shoulder softly in retaliation and he lets you, pinching your nipple just this side of too much in retribution before one of his hands wanders down to your ass, groping and squishing the flesh. Your breath stutters in your chest as he pushes your hips forward onto his, friction sending sparks up your spine.

“Min-” You’re desperate and he hasn’t even done anything yet, not really. A few stray touches and you already feel yourself shattering to pieces in his grasp, you’re not afraid though, and not quite ashamed. He’ll take care of you, he always does.

He does it again, guides your hips forward until you’ve gotten the hint to keep going by yourself and you’re struck with the urge to kiss him, so you do, removing your head from the home it’s made on his shoulder and making a go at his mouth. It’s messy, your coordination shot already, and you almost smash your forehead into his nose before he catches your head with a laugh.

“Easy there. Bloody noses aren’t exactly sexy.” You disagree, he could make anything sexy, but you don’t have time to voice that thought as he pushes his mouth onto yours and lovingly shoves his tongue down your throat. The kiss is messy, they always are. However gentle he is, he can never seem to stop himself from kissing you until your face is covered in drool and spit, and if it were anyone else, you’d be mildly repulsed, but you like the way he looks at your mouth after it’s over, so you let it slide.

You pull away, chest burning and heaving and look at him before you still, eyes drawn to something by his head.

“Baby? What’s wrong?” You don’t answer, gaze still drawn away from him.

“There’s a little white girl staring at me.” He turns his head to the side and laughs as he comes face to face with your cat, her green eyes boring into him. He scratches her head affectionately and lets her headbutt him before your center of gravity is shifting drastically and you’re clinging onto him for dear life.

The bedroom door shuts before you’re very aware of it and suddenly there’s a mattress under your back and a Minho over your front and his hands are up your shirt again, this time shoving it off of you until your chest is bare. You shiver slightly from the cold and then there’s a blanket being shoved around your shoulders and you smile up at him. He knows you so well, he loves you so much and your eyes are welling with tears.

“Aigoo, my little crybaby. It’s just a blanket,” there’s a kiss on each of your cheek bones, “silly thing. Save your tears for when my cock is in you, hmm?” Your breath stutters again and your hands are tugging at his shirt until he takes it off, he laughs again when your hands immediately find his chest.

“I’m glad someone appreciates my hard work.”

“They’re nice boobs.” The sentence catches him off guard, makes him laugh hard enough that he loses his balance a little and his weight settles onto you more. It’s comforting, like a weighted blanket that can talk and walk and kiss you silly.

Then, his hands are under your bottoms, tugging them off your legs and you’re suddenly wearing nothing and he’s still in his pants, which you find disgustingly unfair. You reach down and tug on the hem off his sweats, pouting and huffing until he gets the message and tugs those off too.

“You just want to get me naked,” he starts. “I can’t believe you just want me for my body.” You nod cheekily in response and he smacks your shoulder.

“Yah! See if I’m ever nice to you again!” But he’s kissing your neck again as his hands guide your legs to cross over his hips before he’s touching you in a way that steals the breath from your lungs and makes your head tip back into the pillows.

“There we go. So pretty when you’re like this, hmm? So soft and sweet for me.” His fingers are in you now, pressing insistently against that spot that makes white splash in your vision and reflexively forces your legs shut. He grunts slightly as your thighs squeeze around his hips, pressure just this side of uncomfortable. He doesn’t say anything though, just keeps his pace steady inside you until you’re almost tipping over and he stops. You look at him with something akin to betrayal, fresh tears springing to your eyes, but before you can open your mouth to complain he’s sliding home and you don’t have enough air to say anything anyway.

He catches it though, rolls his eyes as he sees the way your attitude was about to flare up.

“What did I tell you earlier, jagiya? Don’t worry about anything unless I tell you to worry about it. I always take care of you, don’t I?” He does, he’s good to you like that. He sounds slightly out of breath already, unusual for him, but you don’t mind because it feels like you’re seconds away from God’s doorstep yourself.

His pace is slow and deep, bass knock steady even as you squirm under him. If this were a normal situation, he’d stop, hands gripping your hips unforgivingly until you stayed still, but this isn’t a normal situation so he lets you wiggle, only huffing in mild irritation before he leans down to kiss you again.

“You’re gonna knock us off the damn bed, baby.” But he doesn’t make any move to stop you, and you feel too good to really process his words anyway. You love him, you really do, and you’re struck with the overwhelming urge to tell him, to let him know, to make him know. You grip his shoulders tightly, nails digging in until he hisses and levels you with a glare, one that instantly softens when he meets your eyes.

“I love you,” it comes out of you as a sob, like it was wrenched from your vocal chords before you gave yourself permission to think it. “I love you so much.” You’re rambling now, repeating those three words over and over and Minho coos, hips faltering just slightly. He always goes weak when you tell him you love him, and you keep it in your back pocket like a weapon for the times that you’re in trouble.

“I love you, too, jagiya. ‘S that why you’re crying? Hmm? Love me so much it’s gotta spill out from your pretty eyes?” You nod in response, breath hitching from the pleasure and the tears and his hand drifts from its place on your hip to touch you again and you’re spilling liquid heat before you can really register what’s happening. You feel him inside you, too, insides suddenly molten warm but you’re floating too high for it to feel like it’s happening to you, like you’ve been temporarily ejected from your body.

When your soul settles back into your bones, Minho is laying next to you, staring at you with his wide eyes, you look over at him and smile.

“Is boba really worth it?” He looks confused at your question before you poke him on the eyelid and he laughs.

“Feel better?” You consider for a moment. Your teeth don’t feel like they’re too big for their sockets and your bones no longer feel itchy. You’re hungry, but mostly, your mind is quiet. There’s no overwhelming pressure behind your eyes and when you talk your voice cracks from sleep instead of from the force of choking back tears.

“Much. I’m hungry, though.” You give your best impression of puppy eyes at him and watch as his eyes roll to the back of his skull. You’ve been told that your pleading face looks mildly perturbing, but Minho always says you remind him of Soonie when you do it. It makes you feel slightly bad for Soonie, soon the cat isn’t going to be able to get anything off of Minho because you’ll have rendered him immune.

He comes back with your reheated bowl in one hand and your cat in the other.

“She screamed at me until I picked her up. Stood on my feet and hollered.” He winces slightly. “I should’ve put on boxers because she almost mistook my dick for a toy.”

#bee blurbs #ft.lino #lee know smut #lee know x reader #lee know x you #skz smut #skz x reader #skz x you #lee minho x reader #the last time i wrote fanfiction and posted it it was very mid langst so lets hope this is better #this is saved in my google docs as “Sorry to God and also Myself” btw

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