Ghost Call Of Duty Smut - Tumblr Posts
you are literally the best cod writer on this app. hands down. I was wondering if you could write simon and reader getting a noise complaint the morning after he literally makes dents in the wall from the headboard slamming, reader whining, you choose the rest. your writing is literally art 💋
EHEH ARE YOU SERIOUS 🥹🥹 squealing, blushing, kicking my feet 🤭🌷
MDNI. flashbacks of rough sex, sexual language !!
you couldn’t help the butterflies that ricocheted off the walls of your stomach when your husband shot a coy smirk over his shoulder at you. the feds were at the door — clipboard in hand. “sir, we received several noise complaints throughout the night and into the early hours of this morning. . .”
oh.
‘ungh~ tha’sit, lovie.” he croaked against the shell of your ear — the moist, matted foliage of his pelvic bush kissing your swollen clit with ever piston of his drilling hips against yours. “missed ya s’much, darlin.” his voice, husk and dry, reverberated against your sweat-damp temple where gentle pecks left affectionate stamps in their wake. “feel so good squeezin me like that, mmf~”
“oh yeah?” your husband responds, feigning oblivion. “y’sure they was complainin ‘bout us, lads?” they nod at that, peering past the hunk of your husband to acknowledge your smaller self. “yes, sir. said it wasn’t the first time.” they look back to simon, dragging their eyes up his six-foot-something bulk. “apparently this happens whenever you come home.”
“that so?” simon irks them, his pride potent in his tone and stature. “what’d they tell ya?”
“missed you, si!” you whined, nails raking down the taut flesh of his expansive back. “so big!” you complemented, eyes performing somersaults within their sockets. “so good!” and it was. your husband’s thick cock had never felt better; solid pudge rocking into the soft slope of your now no-doubt pregnant stomach whilst his girthy prick went to town on your innards. you mewled, slender digits clawing the memento of that night into his muscular body as his vigorous movements bashed the headboard into the wall behind.
“your neighbours heard a loud ‘banging’ from about dinner time onwards, mister riley.” one officer informs him. “yeah, and what sounded like screaming up until 4 the ‘morrow.” the other adds. you know your husbands’s ego just grew ten sizes bigger, his dick likely swelling also. “really?” simon humours them, smirk blatantly present as he says so. you giggle, hand flying to cover your mouth as an embarrassed flush taints your cheeks a raw maroon.
“s-simon! the wall!” you cried, wept. blissful tears poured from your hooded eyes as you craned your neck backward — the paint on the wall crumbling as the metal frame of your headboard collided with it with each of his aggressive thrusts. “leave it.” he grunted, fucking into your exhausted pussy with increased force. “let the whole fuckin’ house tumble down.” hissed into your gaping mouth; tongues tangling and saliva accumulating. “let everyone know who’s fuckin’ you dumb like this, yeah? makin you scream ‘til you cum nice an’ hard.” and you did — milking his fat prick dry as a ring of cream slickened around his hairy base. “cum on this cock, love”
“just thought we better have a look ‘round, if you’s don’t mind.”
simon looks back to where you’re watching with a blush. “not at all, officers.” he winks, to which the heat that blushes your flustered face dives southbound to narrow on your throbbing cunt. “c’mon in.” and of course he directs them upstairs first.
“you can do it, sweet’art.” he groaned into your moaning mouth. “let ‘em hear ya.” his pace picked up, inflated balls bouncing off the underside of your upturned arse as he hammered his heavy cock against the roof of your bruised cervix. “let ‘em know who’s home.” your eyes rattled until their whites were visible, pupils rolling back to stare your brain down when his weeping cockhead bumped into your cunt’s velvety roof — pre-cum mingling with the cream of your impending climax. “that’s it, love. hug me nice and tight.” you let out a strangled squeal at his words, voice breaking whilst he battered your smaller frame into the creaking mattress. the bed frame shook, swaying back and forth in tandem with his zealous rhythm. “gonna wake the neighbours.” you slurred through spit-covered lips — red and puckered. “good.” simon retorted, muffled by the slaps of skin ploughing skin.
“how did this happen?” one of the cops asks, gesturing to wear the wall has eroded. the plaster beneath reveals exposed brick where next door attaches to the structure of your abode, loose wiring and pipes hanging down. the headboard is dented, the paint from it now transferred onto what remains of the wall behind. “wear ‘n tear.” simon shrugs, slinging a lazy arm around your shoulders. you lean into him, legs still aching from last night. “besides.” he adds, slyly pinching your backside. “was happy to see the missus.”