#when in reality hes just some fuckin
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Blue: “yeah, im basically fluent in Kalosien 😼”
Calem: “im pretty sure i just got hate crimed”
#le0w0 art#pokemon#pokeart#pokemon fanart#trainer calem#rival calem#calem pokemon#blue oak#rival blue#green oak#blue pokemon#i think theyre very sillay#like#blue thinks hes SOOO COOL#when in reality hes just some fuckin#fruity ginger#bro thinks hes so hip and cool with the kids#when in reality said kids are probably calling him slurs <3
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#i could have worded it even worse but i wanted SOME hyperbole and amusement factor#and you have to be brief obviously#zoetrope#its more like ripping random creatures from other dimensions and Immediately just throwing them out to cause havok#because the pain and suffering caused delights it#suffering from whatever the Agent does and when the Agent itself gets inevitably and brutally slain bc Agents don't get the rez#some are malicious but half the time the Agent monsters know even Less about what the fucks happening than the native mantledwellers#some are just doing what is natural to them and it is how do we say Less Than Congruent with conventional reality#[necrin voice] this is great i love this sh... what the fuck is that little dragon doing. he fuckin around? better make sure he finds ou-#[gets hit in the head with a frying pan by a lesbian covered in spikes]
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See, the one Sadboy Loki stan-meta point I will generally agree on is that the desperate need for a throne is about wanting the acceptance and acclaim (ie The Poor Sad Woobie Just Wants To Be Loved) so yeah fair enough on the redemption arc being But What If Friends?? and What If Me But Hot Hot Selfcest Gaining Self-Respect?
I suppose the proof of that is that while pretending to be Odin and literally being the king of Asgard he... did fuck all, really? Wrote a play about himself, lounged around a bit. That's not someone who wants the power bit of being the ruler of everything and while I may disagree on the exact depths of his emo despair and whether it's a moral get-out-of-jail-free card I do agree that yeah the thing that makes ruling everyone attractive to Loki is that those everyones (erm...) will then pay attention to you and tell you how great you are.
That probably *is* the Younger Son thing at work, innit? "Well, if your brother were to die in a "hunting accident" of some freak accident or plague (btw he is basically immortal so this is v unlikely) then we'd need you after all, so we'll keep you around and make sure you're exactly the sort of arrogant twat we need for that job and probably stop you getting too interested in doing something else with your life *but* as mentioned you're basically the insurance policy that we're unlikely to ever actually need so... maybe you could take up knitting? Bee-keeping?" (This is, again, why monarchies and primogeniture are fucking *terrible* ideas that lead to societies overflowing with young men itching to become Crusaders and Conquistadors but I'm sure nobody needs me to go on about that shit again though I just thought of a thing I should add to that fic)
#my third favourite loki#i'm not saying “kill Thor” is the answer to many/most of his problems but...#actually is *this* why some Loki stans hate Thor so much? they've identified the problem but it never gets solved for their fave?#i mean obvs the *real* problem is the system but failing the ability or perhaps will to change that then yeah he could just murder Thor#as i throwaway-line'd once in a fic Sylvie would have the related but different problem of Being A Girl#nobody bothered to put the *princesses* in the tower did they?#(think R3 was actually planning to marry the oldest girl? which bold move when you've blatantly murdered her brothers but whatevz)#(maybe she didn't like them anyway!)#(also that actually *is* incest isn't it? daaaamn Richard going for the full set of Things People Don't Like weren't you?)#(someone reading this like “why the fuck is she talking about Richard III on this post about Loki???”)#(well hello there welcome to the fun world of me! it's all downhill from here!)#(don't forget to Like Comment and Subscribe!)#(i may hate monarchies but their dramas are fuckin A+ Reality Shows But With Murder And Incest And So On quality content)#me stuffing popcorn into my mouth: “can't wait for the new season to resolve that Bosworth cliffhanger. my problematic fave MUST win!”#“he murdered his nephews surely he can take out that half-arsed attempt at a Lancaster heir?? it's that or a line of Welsh gingers???”#(i have nothing against welsh gingers honestly cross my cold black twisted heart)#loki series
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blah blah Bethesda bad anyway
my favorite thing about Elder Scrolls is how goddamn fuckin weird it is
like on surface it's just some dnd game but like even a cursory glance shows tis fucking insane like:
The moons is the corpse of a god
the stars are actually holes in reality when alot of primordial spirits hated that mortals were becoming a thing and fucked off
The demon lord of forbidden knowledge/resident Cthulhu stand-in might also be the beta version of the entire fucking universe made sentient when it wasn't chosen to be the used reality
there are cat ppl that take the form of furrys, lions, or regular cats, so you can have a cursing Pirate legend whose an alcoholic & wanted in 5 countries but is also a like basic tabby cat
the wood elves are so pro-nature they're cannibals and also they murder vegetarians
Vampires came from the Lord of Rape doing well ya know
Werewolves came to exist bc the lord of hunt got bored and is a furry
sex is treated like a fucking ip copyright contract on what aspect of sex is happening and what god it's under. There's been many religious wars about this
The lizard ppl are part tree
the Dwarves all fucked off somewhere and disappeared bc they were so atheist they did math to break relativity and literally no one has any idea where they went God or mortal (except maybe Cthulhu and hes not telling)
Said Cthulhu stand-in treats hiding your grandma's secret cookie recipe & hiding a spell that would end the universe and slay a god the exact same and he will murder you for either
Everyone wants to fuck the Orcs but will never admit it and they got so bent out of shape that a demon god killed the og orc god, ate him, and shat him out bc she couldn't deal with everyone complimenting them all the time so now all Orcs are cursed to be hated but they're all still sexy & so is their god
And all this isnt even the tip of the iceberg
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jj fuckin’ his girl bestfriend all nice and slow, taking in her body just in complete shock that this is reality and not some crazy wet dream. tanned arms supporting his body weight beside her head where her hair is splayed around her head like a halo making her look like some kind of goddess, full lips parted and eyes closed, little ‘uh, uh, uh‘s’ leaving her pretty mouth at every thrust where jj’s fat cock nudges that spot inside her squelchy pussy that makes her dig her nails more aggressively into his muscly back.
her eyes opening for a second when his thrusts become more frantic and miscalculated, her orgasm building white hot in her lower stomach making her moan out, their eyes locking as he continues thrusting, his orgasm building as fast as hers seemed to be.
on a whim, she reaches up to take his shark tooth necklace between her teeth, the action innocent but making jj even more desperate for his release, her innocent eyes looking up at him as he thrusts harder, an even deeper desire consuming him as she moans out.
wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him down into a heated kiss, tongues swirling deliciously against each other as he swallows all of her pretty little noises, pulling away to watch her face as she claws harder at his back, his arms aching but he wasn’t about to miss this moment, eyes flicking to her tits as her noises got louder. “‘m fuckin’ coming jj!”
“cmon come for me pretty.” he says, keeping his pace and not looking away from her face, a loud moan spilling from her wet lips as she comes undone, face contorted beautifully as her eyelids slip closed again, feeling the wetness of her orgasm coating his cock he lets go too with a loud groan, as she watches his adams apple bob as he cranes his neck back, dropping his arms which supported his weight and whispering praises inaudibly into her neck.
their sweat-slick bodies pressed impossibly close but still needed to be closer, with his slowly softening dick still inside her sopping pussy she takes a hand through the tangles strands of blonde hair and a kiss to his sweaty forehead, making him smile and press a lazy kiss to her collarbone. “can’t believe we didn’t do that sooner, you’re fuckin’ perfect.” he mumbles, making her blush crimson as he nuzzles his face into her neck and breathes out all relaxed.
#jj maybank blurbs#;bsf!jj#jj maybank#outer banks#jj maybank x reader#jj maybank smut#obx#jj obx#jj maybank concepts#jj maybank blurb#jj maybank obx#jj maybank outer banks#jj mayback imagine#jj maybank headcanon#jj x reader#outer banks smut#obx smut#obx x reader#obx fanfiction#obx imagine#obx cast#obx fic
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do u guys think miguel gets hard if ur nice to him ., miguel nation what do we think
reblogs, comments & likes r highly appreciated !
it’s not like you being nice is anything out of the ordinary—if anything, it’s one of the things that comes the most naturally to you and what others notice whenever they catch you around. your care comes in the form of small, gentle reminders, shared smiles when your eyes meet another’s, or asking how things are when you pass by someone else to make simple conversation. nothing special, really, but it’s sweet.
miguel o’hara thinks that it’s too sweet, but it’s more of a ‘him’ problem, if anything. he’s not even supposed to be this worked up over something as careless as your hand brushing against his shoulder to let him know that you’re there for him that’s coupled with a chipper ‘bye!’ thrown his way before you turn around and leave, but he is. every time you leave him be, the throbbing ache that settles between his legs grows a lot heavier, and he knows that if he deals with it, it would just make things worse.
it’s not like he has any plans to stop, though. he may be growing tired of the countless times he’s caught himself thinking about you, the image of your pretty self occupying his mind so much that he swears he sees you even when he closes his eyes, but the scenarios that he’s so keen on turning into a reality make the job a whole lot easier. there may be a twinge of guilt that crosses his mind after he spills into his hand once he’s done fucking himself raw into his fist, but he tries not to thinking about it too much. even when you’re not there, you’re still assisting him in some way.
which is why he thinks that the universe is playing one massive, fucked-up prank on him when you chose the worst time to drop by his office—that dark, secluded area away from everyone else that he considers an office, anyway—and get greeted with the sight of him biting down on his fist while he furiously ruts into his hand in an attempt to get off. the need that emanates off his body is palpable; no matter how fast he’s stroking himself or how desperately he’s letting his fingers swipe over his leaking tip as pre-come trickles down the remainder of his length, he still can’t come. right now, the sounds that he’s making have more emotion than in any of the words he’s spoken to you, or to anyone, for that matter. it doesn’t make it easier that he’s suddenly terrified of how you’d treat him after seeing that spectacle of pure desperation on his part once he notices you’re there.
but you, being you, are nothing short of understanding. when miguel asks you to leave (well, he kind of shouts at you because you were never supposed to see anything like that), you’re so caught up by what you saw that you stupidly offer to help him out, your voice and demeanor taking on your trademark shyness.
miguel is many things, and you know him to be an incredibly efficient man. everything that follows is a blur, and you end up sprawled out on his desk, your clothes haphazardly tugged out of the way so that he could take up up on your offer.
“you’re too fuckin’ nice,” he whines, wasting no time to peel away your panties and drag his fingers over your entrance. it almost sounds like he’s complaining at the fact that you are the way you are, but he doesn’t say anything. as his fingers curiously prod at your pussy to spread you nicely for him, his free hand is wrapped around his cock, dripping with his own arousal as it lays heavy in his fingers.
a soft whimper slips out of your lips as he toys with your body, and it’s only sinking in now that you’re not sure if you can take all of him. but he needs help, right? he needs to feel better, so you keep your legs apart for him while he rubs the head of his cock on your sensitive clit.
when he hears that, it takes all of his self-control to not sink his cock deep into your sweet little cunt right then and there. “i just—s’too much for a guy to take,” he mumbles, trying to push his tip past your soaked folds, because he’s so nice to let you off easy for now since he knows he’s big. “i never know if you’re teasing or not.” and it’s true; the way you tread so carefully and so gently with everyone, especially with him, makes him wonder whether or not this is your way of being coy. “it’s like you’re begging me to fuck you.”
miguel doesn’t know where all these words are coming from because he knows for a fact that he’s not all that open with anything, much less with things this personal. however, there’s something about the way you’re looking up at him with doe eyes and being completely exposed in a way he’s fantasized about for so long that it sends him reeling.
you’ve been so nice for him, going above and beyond for something you don’t even need to do; of course he needs to return the favor by making you feel good too! it’s only fair, after all, that he shows his very specific way of thanking you.
the moment you give him the go, he slides right into you, your wetness and his pre-come making it easier for him to finally feel what it is he’s been dreaming about for so long. he can’t stop the low moan that escapes him when he feels your warm walls enveloping his cock, your pussy so accommodating and welcoming, just like you. he’s so relieved that it’s not his hand that’s making him feel this way anymore; immediately, he wants to bottom out, to bury himself so deep inside you that he’s positive his tip nudges against your cervix. he never thought that you’d be so kind as to let him fuck you, and he’s so eager to draw out all those sounds and reactions when you let him take you.
he pushes in deeper, his thumb rubbing small circles on your clit because he knows it’ll make you whine. “don’t think i can control myself, pretty girl,” he groans out, all the sensations hitting him like a ton of bricks, and he’s resisting the urge to move right after as you’re adjusting to him. you’re equally as fucked out as miguel and he’s not even all the way in yet. “i won’t stop until you’re crying for me, okay?”
first time dabbling into smut writing so please be kind nyahaha also if there r grammatical errors no there aren't haha wdym
#miguel o'hara#miguel 2099#miguel o’hara x reader#miguel o’hara x you#miguel o’hara smut#miguel smut#atsv smut#atsv miguel#atsv miguel smut#atsv x reader#f!reader#afab reader#o4i0n.docx
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Sneaky linkin’
(Eren Y. Armin A. Connie S.)
A/N: i’m not COMPLETELY back, but I am making a slight improvement w my mental health… so here’s sum slight for yall🤷🏽♀️. I kinda hate this but maybe yall will like it..ion know. Luv ya tho. 17+.
Synopsis: Aot men as sneaky links.
Warning: Smut.. F/M
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Eren! ᡕᠵ᠊ᡃ່࡚ࠢ࠘ ⸝່ࠡࠣ᠊߯᠆ࠣ࠘ᡁࠣ࠘᠊᠊ࠢ࠘𐡏 ———Back seat bandit
Eren..is definitely a back seat bandit. It’s mainly because he has a nice car, why not show it off?
Now, all i’m going to say is (Persian rugs- jacquees version.) Oh lawwwd, he definitely plays that while giving the most sloppiest, nastiest, messiest, back arching back shots ever. This man does NOT play.
Hair puller, choker, dirty talker. He’s the type to make you tell him how good he’s fucking you. “Uh-huh, right there? You like that baby?” And you better tell him too.
The hair pulling thing just comes by instinct. You could be giving this man the sloppiest head ever, deep throating him till hes hitting the back of your esophagus and all. The type of head that makes him feel like he’s shifting reality. He will tug your hair to get a real good look at your face, saliva dripping down your chin and red coating your face. A face that just screams ‘ Am I making you happy?’. He would stare at you with a shit eating grin just while the camera flash hits your face.
Degrading as fuck. He would just say some shit to boost his ego during sex. “I know you like that shit, stop acting like you don’t.” & “You can scream my name louder than that. Try again.” & “Stop fuckin running.” Don’t be fooled now, he’s also going to talk you through it and give you reassurance. “You doin so good f’me.” & “it’s all yours mami.” & “You look so pretty right now.”
Ugh this man just loves to have his hand wrapped around your body. Around your waist, neck, thighs, hands—it don’t matter to him. He loves touching on you. Any time yall link his hands just find their way over your body.
Connie! ᡕᠵ᠊ᡃ່࡚ࠢ࠘ ⸝່ࠡࠣ᠊߯᠆ࠣ࠘ᡁࠣ࠘᠊᠊ࠢ࠘𐡏 ——— Any time any where
Connie..is the type of guy who can fuck ANYWHERE. Car, room, closet, random family bathroom at a gas station—he don’t care.
If you’re down, he’s down. Y’all could be out shopping and he fucks you in the dressing room.
This man LOVES when you ride him. He would just watch you in awe while you bounce up and down on him.
Definitely a talker during sex, he loves telling you how good you’re doing. “Mhm—fuck—I love when you do that.” & “Cmoonn look at me while you do it.” & “Arch that back mama.”
Now, he’s a recorder. He records everything. He has a little folder in his phone dedicated to your link ups.
Although he’s gonna dick you down anywhere he can, his favorite place is the shower. Got some music playing in the background (P power - gunna) while he’s plowing into you. The shower couldn’t even cover up your loud moans.
Pull out ? Nah, “You wanna be grown, let’s be grown baby.” He doesn’t believe in wasting, so either you sucking it up or taking that shit.
Armin! ᡕᠵ᠊ᡃ່࡚ࠢ࠘ ⸝່ࠡࠣ᠊߯᠆ࠣ࠘ᡁࠣ࠘᠊᠊ࠢ࠘𐡏 ——— munch
Armin..is an eater. He’s gonna eat like it’s his last meal every fucking time. His tongue game is vicious. Absolutely diabolical, the messiest head you will ever get.
Salvia dripping on the couch, tears falling from your eyes due to overstimulation, legs locking around his head—he still wouldn’t stop. He won’t stop till you force him to.
Hold on now, Armin ain’t just an eater, he got good dick too. He’s a saint that’s gonna fuck you like a sinner. Let him get some liquor in his system and you’re going to be begging for round 2.
Speaking of drunk Armin, he’s gonna fuck you against a wall. Just something that’s going to happen one way or the other. One leg in the air while the other dangles just above the floor, his hands gripping on your ass so hard it leaves a mark.
Oh it doesn’t stop there either, he’s going to stumble his way to the bed and take you there too.
Hella vocal whimpering, moaning, whispering. He’s going to let you know your pussy good. “God-you feel so fuckin good.” & “Please keep doing that.”
Loves teaching you new things, different kinks, positions, anything of the sort. I know he just loves exploring and experimenting things with you. He’s a freaky freak for sure. <3
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whore…
#eyena writes♡#eren jeager smut#eren jeager x reader#eren x black fem!reader#eren x black reader#eren x reader#eren x y/n#eren x you#eren yeager#eren smut#armin x black reader#armin x y/n#armin x you#armin fluff#armin x reader#plug connie#connie x black reader#connie smut#armin smut#aot smut
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Hiding the rest of this HUGE comic behind a readmore for ur sanity
Hes got the keenest eye for these things!
Now that this is hiding behind a readmore i can justify writing an essay in here. Nothing big tho i am just very chatty :)!
Postgame where Peppino still gets visits every now and again from the bosses of the tower. I already drew one for the noise (lmao) but i wanted to draw each of the main four interacting with him in some way.
Pepperman is a refined and well renowned artist. His art is highly sought after and his advice is not taken lightly. He has many MANY fortunes to pull from to make his visions a reality and to influence anyone to do anything. Except for Peppino.
From the very first fight, Pepperman is immediately, overwhelmingly obsessed with this stout little brawler. He is much much more than what meets the eyes. He is initially extremely offput and annoyed that a human so boldly decided to waltz into his domain, and he expects to be able to steamroll and bully this…beast…out of his place of work. He is refined when he wants to be, but he is quick to use his brute strength to get what he wants if only bc he knows he can do it
And so when he decides to fully charge and thrash this little trembling human, expecting him to skitter away the second he gets struck, he is completely unprepared for when he gets launched to the other end of this room. The human looks so incredibly PISSED, like a bull seeing red, and suddenly this little altercation suddenly became a real actual ‘knock your teeth out’ brawl. This human is only like half his height, but his punches and bashes fucking knock the wind out of him.
And like ! To add insult to injury!!! After he wins the fight! He visibly deflates, the adrenaline seemingly wearing off. Hes just this trembling fuckin whelp again !!! Whimpering as he fucking runs back out through the portal to do god knows what. And Pepperman could not be any more fucking intrigued. Like this no name came in, whooped his fuckin ass, and went about his day. Its unreal
While Peppino is running around climbing the tower, Pepperman is in his room losing his mind. Hes obsessed. No one has challenged him in this way. No one has fought him and WON. He is ALWAYS able to bully people into submission either through brute force or with money, and he got his ass handed to him !! He needs to know more. Its quite literally consuming him.
Cut to the final fight, set up for a rematch; and he knows he is going to get steamrolled again but it is SO exhilarating to get another chance to see this humans form up close again. This time he can try to commit everything to memory. Its all such a blur though, and in a quarter of the time it took to end their first fight, its over. He gets to watch the human fight the gunslinger with his bare hands, no gun necessary, and he doesnt even bat an eye at what looks to be a clone of himself. He is a force of nature tearing through every single defense, and when Pepperman watches the actual final fight with the bizarre little pizza man, its like hes caught in a movie. The rain, the storm, the atmosphere. He wishes he could burn the entire scene into his mind.
So when everything returns to normal, he takes the time to travel for days to come and find this little human named Peppino. The memory is still strong and vivid but eventually, details will start to slip his mind. He needs to find this human, convince him to sit and do some still life sessions with him to help cement the humans appearance in his head. He hasnt had to resort to…asking for permission for anything in a loooong time…he bullies people into doing what he wants but Peppino is not your average person, and if he wants something from this man, he’ll have to meet him at his level.
He...can make an exception for Peppino...he supposes.
#pizza tower#peppino spaghetti#peppino#pepperman#i love love love how this little comic turned out#esp with how peppino came out in so many panels#esp the one w pepperman holding peppino close: that one is the best i think#anyway#yeah#heehee#this is not intended to be shippy but do as u please#pepperman is just an artist that appreciates beautiful BEAUTIFUL forms#and people who defy him#and he has No filter#peppino is like oh my god#hes eccentric…the worst kind of person….#but like#no one has tried to fight him since the tower collapsed#and everyone seems peaceful enough now#so if this weirdo thinks hes ‘beautiful’ and ‘exquisite’ and ONLY wants to spend some time to draw him#well thats better than fighting again; hell take it#also#heehee yes; peppino is using a walkman#hes been holding onto that shit for decades its his ol reliable
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A Real Jock's Supposed To Be Dumb
Mike had a problem. And that problem was Tyler Grant.
Tyler Grant and Mike were both juniors studying finance. Mike was, according to the commonly used way of stereotyping people in college, a nerd. He studied, read books and academic papers, didn't posses good social skills. A nerd.
Tyler Grant was a college athlete, a wide receiver on their university's football team. and at a first glance he was very much a typical jock. He was muscular, his clothes always made that clear. He was popular with everyone, a bit cocky. Everyone knew that type.
But this wasn't the whole picture. For a football jock Tyler had surprisingly good grades. He spent at least some of his free time studying for exams and projects, he was active during classes, and he made an effort to get to know everyone who was present in the lecture hall alongside him.
And that meant Mike was... not frequently, but consistently approached by Tyler. The athlete usually exchanged a few words with him whenever the two bumped into each other.
And Mike was infuriated by this.
Because of course Tyler wasn't doing this because he was a genuinely nice person.
For sure he was doing this out of pity.
He probably laughed all day about Mike, that sad little nerd.
And all that pretending, which was definitely what Tyler was doing, made Mike fuckin' annoyed.
One day Mike was walking through downtown and he stumbled upon a thrift store. Lead by an impulsive thought he walked in and moved through countless racks and shelves. Then he saw it. A random golden chain, similar to the ones jocks like Tyler wore on a daily basis. Again driven by a strange impulse Mike picked it up.
"When you wear it, your word will be reality" A voice, belonging to some older man, whispered into Mike's ear. He quickly turned around but saw no one standing next to him. His eves went back to the chain. He had to have it.
So he bought it. What happened next was pure magic. The golden chain, when hanging form his neck, allowed Mike to alter reality. Which was insane. The chain's power was limited, but clearly visible and Mike was amazed.
He knew what he wanted to do with that power.
A week later Mike had to do a project for a class. The project required working in pairs and, what a coincidence, Tyler was sitting close to him and suggested they work together. Mike put on a fake slime, deep down sure that this was some new plot to make fun of him.
The next day they met in the university library to work on the project. As Tyler looked through some data on his laptop, Mike made sure the chain was under on his neck, hidden by his t-shirt and hoodie.
"You will treat everything I say as normal" Mike said. Nothing changed, Tyler just nodded after hearing these word and continued working. Mike smirked. Perfect.
"You will start behaving like a real jock. No more talking to me out of pity and then laughing at me behind my back. Be a real jock bro."
"Yeah, bruh" Tyler muttered to himself. His position shifted, his upper body more relaxed on the chair, his legs spread out. He swiftly removed his hoodie, revealing a white tank top.
"And let's not kid ourselves, deep down you know you are a dumb idiot. A jock like you will always end up with a brain that can only understand football plays." Mike grinned. He felt real good saying those words. Getting rid of academic competition, putting Tyler where he belonged.
"you callin' me a dumbass, fuckin' nerd?" Tyler stopped typing on his laptop. He looked at Mike, a dumb, cocky grin now clearly visible on his face. Moke could now see the arrogant dominance in his eyes.
"Yes, and you won't do anything about it, because you listen to everything I say, you dumb jock." Mike said straight into Tyler's face. The jock chuckled dumbly and flexed his arm. He put his hand on the bulging muscles and squeezed them.
"duuuuuh, dude" he drawled "wha' were we doin' even bruh? muh brain foggy dude..." he looked at his still opened laptop. "shit, nerd, what is that fuckin' nonsence!"
"I'll take care of that" Mike said as he closed Tyler's laptop. "You have other things to care about."
"fuck yeah i do, nerd!" Tyler barked at him. "Gotta get these guns pumped bruuuuh!" He flexed his arms again and laughed out loud, attracting attention of other people in the library.
"Okay, my jock, we gotta get you out of here" Mike stood up and waited for Tyler to do the same.
"oh fuck, nerd, we gotta get out of this fuckin' nerd central, am i right huhuhuhuhuh" He chuckled loudly as they left the library, Mike's hand on Tyler's biceps. After they were outside Tyler stopped for a moment, got his phone out and took a photo of himself flexing his arm.
"gotta keep the chicks on insta hot n' bothered, nerd" Mike smirked as he heard that. Oh yeah, his plan was going great.
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rare punishing r for going on the date with jj anyways
"you need to learn how to fuckin' listen, when- when you're told something-"
"rafe," you breathe back, exasperated at the exhausted dialogue. you two have had this conversation so many times. you love your best friend, maybe more than a friend should, but you're tired of being lectured by someone who regularly makes worse decisions than you going on a date with a pogue boy.
"no, m'serious." rafe moves over, getting closer to you, closing in the space in your bedroom. you don't know how he even knew you were home, since you hadn't talked to him since the club yesterday, before your date with jj.
the date had been fine. jj was nice, funny. you two got along well enough. if your friends weren't breathing down your neck about how much they don't like him, you think maybe you'd be more excited, more engaged, replying to his text immediately to plan the next day instead of letting him sit on delivered while rafe sits on your bed next to you.
"are y'listening to me? huh?" you blink up at him, snapped out of your daze. no, you're positive now, if rafe was supportive (then topper and kelce would be too, of course) then you'd feel better about the whole thing.
the truth was that if rafe didn't approve of the boy you wanted to date, you didn't feel like dating him. you wanted someone who would fit right in with your best friends, make himself comfortable in your group and get along. the sad reality was that no one like that existed, and rafe hadn't approved of a single one of your dates since you had first met him.
"sorry. what?"
"i said, you always do this shit."
"rafe, i don't feel like getting reprimanded like some kid right now-"
"no, that's just it. you are a fuckin' kid. you never listen to me, you fuckin' act out by going on dates with pogues-" he spits the word like there's nothing worse in the world you could do, maybe besides ignoring what he tells you to do.
"why should i listen to you?" you snap back, suddenly sick of the double standard. you'd never so much as questioned him when he had a new girl on his arm every week.
"why should you listen to me?" rafe repeats slowly, back at you. "i dunno, maybe because i know best for you. maybe because m'trying to take fuckin' care of you, watch out for you."
you groan, but rafe interrupts you.
"are you seein' him again?" you stare up at him. "answer me."
"no," you admit finally, bringing your knees to your chest and hugging them. "m'not."
"good." you don't look up, but rafe licks his lips. he sits back down next to you, swinging an arm around you. "m'right here. what else do you need, kid? hm?"
you roll your eyes.
"a best friend that doesn't act like my dad would be nice."
"yeah, well, tough shit. do not see him again. this is nice compared to what'll happen."
"rafe!" you protest, met to deaf ears.
"you think m'joking? try me. if i see you texting that pogue again i'll snap your phone in half." you sigh, but he still presses a wet kiss to your temple. "now c'mon. it's tee time."
#baby im sorry if this isnt what you wanted#its more threatennnnn i feel like he cant up and spank her or sm lmfaoooo#he has to try n be more chill since theyre not a couple (yet.. even tho they kinda are)#anyways i hope u like babe#rafe cameron#rafe cameron x reader#kook trio reader
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petal plush’d
Daryl Dixon x Reader
Summary:
Sinnedenoderum: Floral Species - When inhaled by human beings it has psychoactive properties as well as acting on the nervous and vascular systems. Often causes a lack of inhibitions and desire or delusion of the need for sexual intercourse. In some cases will cause tumecense in individuals affected.
Setting: Season 2, the farm.
Warnings; dub-con (reader is willing but daryl doesn’t ask), drugging (sex pollen, without consent/forcefully), size!kink, panty sniffing, oral (m and f), unprotected piv, mentions of vomit (no one actually vomits), rough sex, swelling genitalia, poorly written SMUT, no plot just VIBES (sex pollen vibes)
Word Count: 3k
A/n: heed the tags y’all. Enter at your own risk. This is more idea/concept than good prose so; sorry if it’s written like dogshit.
18+ mdni.
masterlist
Daryl should know better. Everyone who ever known anything up in the mountains knew you don’t smell the purple flowers. Daryl shouldn’t be wasting any time smelling any flowers. Supposed to be out hunting. But nah, had to stop and do it. After all there was a whole damn bush of ‘em. How could he not?
Honestly, he’d probably already been influenced by the time he kneeled down and took a big inhale. The spores already creeping in and taking hold of him. As soon as he does it, he stands up straight as an arrow. A mission. A need. An ache.
He stalks back to camp, handful of flowers and spores that he’s tracking all through the forest. This is how they spread. This is how they used the human species to populate.
He’s over by the tents, blinking back into reality as he unzips yours. He doesn’t know it’s yours, doesn’t care. Doesn’t matter. His brain is reset - back to zero. Back to puberty and being so horny he could fucking die and he’s going to find a pair of used underwear and he’s going to put it in his fucking mouth. His ears are pounding, he’s never felt dirtier. His cock rock hard and killing him.
Your few pairs of dirty panties are hidden in a ball in the bottom of your backpack and they are honestly disgusting. Just exactly how Daryl likes them. Worn maybe a few days, and when you were working in the sun. Sweaty and salty and tangy and delicious. His saliva bringing the taste back to life on his tongue, his eyes roll back into his head.
He’s an animal. On all fours in your half unzipped tent with a wad of soiled underwear in his mouth. Hand shooting down his pants to touch himself but it doesn’t feel like anything.
Nah, he should know better. Knew it wouldn’t. Knew he either had to ride it out or find a girl. But now he knew he had to find whoever these belonged to. This fuckin’ taste. He needed you.
He quickly scours the tent for a clue as to whose tent it is. Coming across some silly charm bracelet he’s seen you wear and a few notebooks he’s definitely seen you writing in.
Daryl exits the tent with a bit more hesitancy, his heart pounding even harder. Part of his brain fighting back against what he knew this flower was about to make him do to you.
This is how they spread.
He comes across you alone on the far edge of the field hanging laundry on the line, almost hidden in the tall grass that edged the property, grateful that he didn’t have to face anyone else like this. His hand covers his hard dick in his pants before he calls out to you, “Hey!”
You jump, not realizing anyone had been out here with you, wondering how long he’d been standing there. You give him a once over and realize something’s wrong, he’s out of breath and looks like he’s in pain. “Hey!” You call back, continuing to hang clothes, “What’s going on?”
You put your hand up to shield the sun as you make eye contact with him. He’s standing there with his hand over his mouth, slumped shoulders, other hand loosely over his crotch - before he starts walking toward you. Feet scraping against the grass as he stalks over.
“Gonna need yer help w’somethin’.” He shouts, finally getting close enough to speak at a normal volume; to see him without squinting your eyes in the sun.
He’s flushed, his heart racing. You can tell just by looking at him that whatever he needed help with, you didn’t want to be involved. You assumed it was something like hard labor. Or walking far somewhere. And you were enjoying the mendacity of hanging the laundry on the line. It was serene. "I'm kinda busy, can't someone else help you?"
"Naw, s'gotta be you." He replies quickly, his voice almost dancing up your neck. His moves are deliberate as he positions himself behind you, one hand grazing the skin on your shoulder before pulling it right across your body. Crossed across your chest, he whispers even deeper into your ear, "These're yers, righ'?" He asks gruffly while pulling his arm up and into a light chokehold, elbow crooked around your neck, his whole body pressed into you. Your eyes shoot wide while he holds up a pair of your used panties with an extended arm directly in your line of sight. The light stain clear as day, you're more mortified than confused. His grip gets tighter, "They are, ain't they?" his heavy breaths moving your hair as he speaks into your ear.
You nod, cautiously, curiously. "Mmhmm"
As he pulls the panties close to your face you see the soft purple colors of a flower - and then you smell it. On top of your own scent there is a light delicate unmistakeable floral smell. Daryl’s holding the flower inside the panties, shoving them both forcefully in your face. “Don’ be shy, com’awn.” He grunts, without taking his arm from your neck he removes the flower to put the panties back up to his own face. He maneuvers you slightly in his grip and shoves the flower back into your nose. Both of you taking deep breaths in. You don’t have time to wonder what the hell is going on before it hits you. Daryl’s inside his head screaming at himself, but he can’t stop. He doesn’t know he wouldn’t have to use some flower to get with you. Or that you’d probably have done this willingly.
You don’t have time to think about it. You don’t care.
You’re overtaken. Set to zero. This insatiable need; you look over at him, gnawing at the light stain right in the center, and it fills you with desire. He tears himself away to see if it had worked yet. Your dilated pupils in the midday sun were an instant give-away. He pulls you fifteen feet towards the tall grass and shoves you backwards, you land on your ass and your elbows but even that pressure and shock vibrates through your body like a dull orgasm.
Your heads swimming, you’re fucking drowning in it. Daryl’s between your legs and pulling your panties off of you as fast as all of this seemingly has happened, his tongue covered in saliva like he’s fucking drooling for it. He needs you, now. To taste that fuckin’ juice right from the tap. He dives into you nose first, parting your lips harshly for his rough tongue, he’s not trying to please you. He’s trying to eat you alive. He’s never been hungrier.
There’s a thought prickling in your subconscious; you know the flower is what did this to both of you. Looking down your body, his tongue on your cunt is starting to become way too sensitive, you realize your pussy is swelling. Engorged, puffy, and honestly adorable. Daryl seems to like it, licking along the glossy wet skin more slowly. Taking your swollen lips in his mouth and swirling his tongue all around them. The sensation vibrating inside of you only reminding you of how hollow you feel. “Daryl-!” You choke out, he grunts into you in response.
“Put that fat cock down my throat already.” Your eyes go wide at your own words, you can’t imagine ever saying that; and yet it slips right out of your mouth like you’d never been more confident in your whole life. It is what you wanted. But…damn. It was like every dirty thing your subconscious ever wanted was pushing it’s way through and to the surface. It’s on your skin, it’s in your thoughts, it’s bursting out of your fuckin’ soul.
When Daryl hears your words it sparks something inside him too. Reignites a desire long lost to actual experience. Something he’d always wanted to try but never could. He was going to fuck your face until you threw up all over his cock. He smiles, kissing up your leg, “Ya wanna choke on it, huh?”
Your eyes roll back as you feel him move from between your legs, shuffling through the tall grass to kneel beside you. Daryl gazes down at your body, your skin sunkissed and flushing and perfect, everything seemed brighter. Like you were fuckin sparklin’ in the sunshine. He’s not expecting his cock to be just as swollen as your pussy was, but jesus christ. It almost makes him lose his balance, he’s never seen himself look so big. It turns him on that much more. He can’t take it, your mouth just inches away and drooling for it.
Your cheeks immediately burn at the entrance of his engorged member. Spit rocketing out the sides of your mouth around him as your breath quickens. He pushes himself deeper into you. poking at the back of your throat and you gag. He doesn’t care, you don’t care. He drives himself in and out of your mouth with no abandon, like he’d never been able to do before. Always too scared, too ashamed, too embarrassed. Never able to take the back of the girls head and just force her down on him. Exactly everything he’s doing to you now. And you love it. Your eyes sting with tears, and you’re gagging and spitting up thick strings of saliva and mucus, and you can hardly breathe. Daryl’s looking down at you, thinking to himself that he’s never seen someone look more fuckin’ beautiful. “Takin’ ma cock like such a good slut, hm?”
You look up at him, mouth stuffed full. As he speaks your eyes flutter closed, nothing's ever sounded hotter. It seeps into you and shakes your core. Daryl pulls his hips back, hands in your hair and pumps long purposeful strokes into the back of your throat while he continues praising you, “So. Fuckin’. Good. Fer me.” Each grunt another rough assault on your mouth.
Your jaw was starting to seize up, your cheeks completely abused. Your tears turning to real ones, whines at the back of your throat. Snot bubbling out of your nose as you try to breathe.
Daryl doesn’t notice but he stops anyway, pulling himself out of your mouth, his cock bouncing proudly as he makes his way between your legs again.
He’d looked down and over you, taken one look at that puffy pussy, jiggling in the sunlight, and the flower took him over. No thoughts left in his head; no more perverse diversions, just the need to empty inside of you. To fill you full.
You close your eyes and wait as you feel him push through your folds, kissing the head of his cock with your sensitive clit a few times before dipping himself inside of you. His swollen head pushing your walls apart is an agonizingly delicious burn. Slowly inching himself inside, he can’t fucking breathe you’re so fucking tight.
Every part of you pulsates with extra blood, so sensitive and juicy and perfect. As he starts to pull out, you can feel your pussy being pulled back with it. The size and girth of him creating a suction inside of you, it pulls him back in. Daryl groans deeply at the feeling and begins to reposition himself
Grabbing your legs and pushing your knees up toward your head, your hips angled directly to the sky as he plunges long deep strokes into you. Your pussy pulling up with his cock every time he pulls out. You can see him pulling and pushing with every thrust, your lips coming to meet his shaft and swallowing him again.
“Fuckin’ made for ma’ cock, huh?” He takes one hand off the back of your thigh and holds himself at the base, rubbing himself back and forth through your folds harshly. Watching the plump skin jiggle around his cock. He’s never seen anything like it, so full and perfect and so fucking hot. He almost gets lost in it, fucking up and into your tumescent lips, but you want him inside again. You’d never felt so full in your life.
You buck your hips up into him and he gets the message, burying himself inside of you slowly and to the hilt. He pulls himself out of you again, even slower. Both of you just feeling as every vein and bulge is suctioned tight to your walls as he moves.
You both seem to drone into this feeling. Him slowly sliding in and out of you, both of you watching as your pussy contracts around him - until you start moving to meet his hips, wanting him even deeper.
Daryl sits up and repositions you both again, his thick calloused digits moving over your skin so gently in comparison to this whole experience. Pushing your legs, and repositioning your hips so that you’re face down in front of him. Can’t fuckin’ wait to feel that grip from behind. He knows he’s done for the second you arch your back and push yourself back into him. He’d hardly got the tip in before you were bottoming yourself out ontop of him. As you slowly pull yourself off he watches your asshole puff out, his cock head pushing it out from the inside. Fuck, he can’t even move. Just letting you ride him from underneath, watching your asshole push out and around his cock from inside your fucking body. Holy fuckin’ goddamn shit.
You milk his cock with your pussy until you can feel him swelling even more. You slow down to give him back control, to let him use you however he wants. Daryl takes one hand on each hip and pushes you flush with the ground. His thumbs spreading you apart so he can watch his cock drive into you as he finishes. He’s doesn’t know it yet but he’s going to think about how good your cunt swallowed him every time he cums for years - it’s the most intense orgasm he’s ever had in his life.
Pulling your hips back against him with such force his fingernails dig into your skin, your gasping out screams as he fucks into you so deeply you forget how to breathe. You can feel every single twitch of his cock as it pulsates his load inside of you.
But you were still aching. He slumps over ontop of you, his sweat kissed forehead dropping to your shoulder, as if reading your mind he asks you sweetly, “What do you need?”
“Suck on my tits.” You rasp out, not needing even a moment to think about it. Your nipples had been screaming for attention this whole time. He grunts a smile into the skin of your shoulder before flipping you over on your back again. Moving out from between your legs he kneels on the ground beside your sprawled out body. He moves his hand swiftly over the top of your dress and yanks it down, your nipples just as puffy and swollen as your pussy. Even though the effects of the flower are wearing off Daryl can’t help but salivate again at the sight. He dips his head down to your chest, licking into your nipple, pushing it around inside his mouth. You lose it. The tight tension in your belly unraveling and twisting itself into every part of you. Your hand shoots down between your legs to play with your clit but Daryl pulls it away and replaces it with his own.
His warm rough fingers circle your sensitive bundle of nerves so gently, you’re dissolving against his touch. Climbing inside and up the steep hill to the top of your orgasm. His lips still tightly sucking on your breast, one hand between your legs, and the other pulling on your other nipple harshly. Your body feels so ruined, so pulled and prodded apart, destroyed against the force of the flower through the arms of a man. It cascades through your cunt like you’re expecting, but you’ve never felt an orgasm that tore through the nerves in your nipples as well. Like every place he’s attached to you explodes all at once. Screaming into the open air while it rips through your body. Pussy to fingertips to toes and back again, a shaking mess underneath of him.
Daryl didn’t have time to feel the post-nut shame, not with you to take care of. But you feel it. The prickly grass on your skin like small reminders of the dirty things you’d said, you’d done with him. The way he’d seen your body, the way it reacted to him.
His voice cuts through, as he’s putting himself away and back into his pants, “Shit, sorry I made ya do all that. It’s the damn flower…” he doesn’t even know how to explain, how to begin to apologize for what he’d just done to you. How he’d violated you.
“No,” you scramble, blushing, “I liked it. I mean-“ you cough, standing up and dusting yourself off, “I know the flower made me really like it. But, I would have… liked it anyway.”
Daryl observes you getting awkward and stumbling over your words, it makes him feel less like a super fucking predator. He takes a few big strides to stand close to you again, leaning down and kissing your forehead. He touches his thumb to your lips, “Cuz yer fuckin’ made fer me.” He means it. Your scent, the way you fit around him, the way you took his cock so perfectly. Fuckin’ made for him.
“Don’chya got somethin’ yer s’possed ta be doin’, girlie?” He tugs on some of your hair before slapping your ass and making his way back to the tents. Leaving you to gather yourself and finishing hanging clothes. Going back to tell everyone the bad news that he didn’t hunt anything today. ‘Cept a pretty girl and her womb.
He left that part out. And no one believed him about the flower when he tried to warn them it was in the woods close by. Just an old Appalachian wives tale. Sure.
a/n: had this idea swimming for a few days, had a few parts written. Blasted it out in a few hours and I didn’t really proofread it but I feel like this is NO PLOT JUST VIBES.
#daryl dixon#daryl dixon fanfiction#twd daryl#daryl dixon smut#daryl fanfiction#the walking dead daryl#daryl dixon imagine#daryl dixon x female reader#daryl dixon x reader#daryl dixon x y/n#daryl dixon x you
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I've seen a lot of people comparing Huskerdust to a healthy version of Stolitz and it's kinda got me thinking... Staticmoth as the evil fucked up version of Fizzmodeus.
THINK ABOUT IT!!!!! The parallels between Val and Ozzie are obvious. Like that man wants to be Ozzie so bad it's insane, from the way he dresses to the way he decorates to straight up OWNING A ROBO FIZZ, Val clearly wishes he was the embodiment of Lust. But are there parallels between Vox and Fizz? Actually, surprisingly yeah. They're both showmen, like aggressively so. They're very public figures, with their face all over every product in Hell(albeit Vox is doing it a lot more purposefully then Fizz). Fizz's antagonism towards Blitzø is actually pretty reminiscent of Vox's towards Alastor(except Fizz and Blitzø have a lot more baggage lmao), and they even share some aesthetic similarities! Specifically the colors of Fizz's robotic limbs matching Vox's overall color scheme. Which speaking of robots, that's probably their biggest similarity overall: they're both partially made of technology. I hesitate to say cyborg because Idk how much that applies to Vox, since object heads aren't typically classified as cyborgs as far as I know, and we don't actually know how much of Vox is organic(also cyborg is just one of those words I have an inexplicable dislike of Idk-), but like. Think cyborg I guess. Like Vox is a LOT more of a dick and probably doesn't have a very tragic backstory? Maybe? Unclear. But the similarities are undeniable.
Okay, now that individual parallels are out of the way, how could their relationship to eachother parallel Fizzmodeus? Starting with baseline aesthetics: they got the height difference. It's not as dramatic as Fizz and Ozzie's but TO BE FAIR, Huskerdust are the same way(their height difference is obvious, but not as massive as Blitzø and Stolas'). Staticmoth is also very buisness-partners-with-benefits and some hints at deeper feelings, which is how we were introduced to Fizzmodeus. I don't think Val and Vox feel the need to hide their romantic feelings? But tbh it could go either way we haven't seen much of their dynamic yet. That's kinda where the similarities I could spot find because see previous sentence, so let's move onto the differences!
I think a good way to breakdown what makes Staticmoth toxic Fizzmodeus is actually by bringing Alastor and Blitzø back in to compare and contrast how Val handles Vox's rivalry with how Ozzie handles Fizz's. In Radio Killed the Video Star, the only reason Val tells Vox that Alastor is at the hotel is to piss him off. He clearly enjoys Vox's reaction, and keeps egging him on. Teasing him about it. Which like, friendly teasing between partners is well and good, but Val is clearly just doing it cause he wants to see a fight and doesn't care about how distressed Vox is about this. Vox goes off on his own and sings a fuckin banger, gets publically humiliated, causes a massive blackout. Val doesn't really do shit to help him out, just kinda sits there and. Idk watches? Unclear what the other Vees are actually doing because most of Stayed Gone takes place in funny TV land where Vox is capable of bending reality to his whim for the sake of visual interest. But what Val is actively doing during the musical number isn't important so who cares. What's important is that he egged Vox on, convinced him that confronting Alastor right then was a good idea, and then just sat back as Vox got so pissed off he had a meltdown. Which I SWEAR I'm not trying to dramatize this scene it just sounds really fucking bad when you write it all down from this perspective. I think it's also worth noting that all of this is DIRECTLY AFTER Vox did the exact opposite for Val, calming him down so he doesn't make a fool of himself in public.
Meanwhile compare that to how Ozzie handles Fizz and Blitzø's relationship. During House of Asmodeus, once Fizz realizes Blitzø is there, he starts publically roasting him about how shitty his love life is. Ozzie encourages him, and even gives him a little congratualtions in the background when Verosika joins in for changing the subject, but the difference here is that House of Asmodeus takes place in a much more controlled environment, so it's less likely either of them will have to face consequences for being assholes. There's also how Ozzie's encouragement is just a lot more genuine. Like "yeah babe, go insult that guy who traumatized and abandoned you whoo!" rather then "hey hey look there's that guy you hate. You should go fight with him lmao show him who's boss." Then there's the ending. At the end of both Stayed Gone and House of Asmodeus, Vox and Fizz eat shit and die. Don't worry they're both fine like immediately after, but while in House of Asmodeus Ozzie immediately rushes over to Fizz to make sure okay, we uh. Do not see Vox interact with anybody but Alastor in the direct aftermath of his eating shit and dying, which is fair because he's in his weird little gamer cave. Then we skip straight to the Vees having a meeting to decide what they're gonna do about Alastor, and we don't really know what any of them were doing in the interim between the end of Stayed Gone and the meeting, so uh this part of the comparison kinda falls flat. But again something worth noting is that Val just straight up. Does not care about Alastor during the meeting scene. He's sitting there bedazzling his fucking gun BY HAND with school glue and rhinestones, not even paying attention to the meeting, despite being the one to get Vox all riled up about Alastor IN THE FIRST PLACE.
In short: Val encourages Vox to fight Alastor without thinking it through, doesn't bother to help out during the actual fight, and then immediately stops caring the moment the fights over. Meanwhile Ozzie, while encouraging Fizz to pick on Blitzø, backs him up the whole time, and while still supportive of his boyfriend, doesn't actively encourage Fizz to do things that would get him hurt. Ozzie also supports Fizz by refusing to let Blitzø have an Asmodean crystal because he knows Fizz wouldn't like it! Which is the exact opposite of pissing your partner off on purpose so you can watch a fight!!! And if that isn't enough evidence for you, then uh. I guess you could compare how Val treats... just everybody around him, really, with how Ozzie does(but that's more individual character analysis than relationship analysis). Or you could talk about how fed up with Val's shit Vox clearly is in comparison to the mutual support of Fizzmodeus. Or how. Val throws a glass at Vox. And breaks his phone. And then Vox has to scream in his face to get him to listen-
Idk how to end this so uh. DEMON ATTACK RAH!!! 👹👹👹👹👹👹👹👹👹👹👹👹👹👹👹👹👹👹👹👹👹👹👹👹👹👹👹👹👹👹👹👹👹👹👹👹👹👹👹👹👹👹👹👹👹👹
#hazbin hotel#helluva boss#hazbin vox#hazbin valentino#staticmoth#fizzarolli#helluva asmodeus#helluva ozzie#fizzmodeus#fizzerozzie#late night ramblings#gal overanalyzes random shit
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if you’re taking requests still .. what about latina!reader meeting older!rafes daughter and becoming friends with her and also fucking rafe behind her back 🫢
to put things quite simply: rafe cameron was relieved that his incessantly introverted daughter had finally made a friend. sure, it took her a little longer than expected, she’d remained to herself throughout the entirety of her early school years, but now she was nineteen years old, a freshman in college — and she’d finally made her first official friend. what struck rafe the most about his little girl’s new friend was how different you were from her, you actually put effort into your appearance — immaculately shiny and well kept hair, perfectly applied makeup that accentuated your already tantalizing features, and clothes that showed just enough of you that left rafe wanting more … much to his utter embarrassment and dismay. and god, he loved the way his name rolled off our your latin tongue.
he wasn’t exactly sure when his feelings for you developed, all he knew was it had about a year, since he kissed you for the first time. and now, he had you bent over the desk in his office, his thick cock ramming into your tight and warm wetness, while his wedding ring-clad finger, deliciously massaged your clit. he loved the way you smiled with gritted teeth as you took his entire length like the pillow princess you were. and, all it took was him cumming deep inside of you to realize that he had to keep you around, at all costs. his perked up ears didn’t miss the way you giggled, all cock-drunk at the ‘pop’ when his fat length slid out of your inviting pussy.
taking a moment to steady his breathing, rafe grinned like an idiot, pressing a kiss to your spine, as he softly patted the plush skin of your ass, earning a cute whine from you, “jesus christ, y’did so fuckin’ good, pretty girl,” rafe praised, his eyes hung low as you crouched down, spreading you soft ass cheeks, maintaining his smile at the sight of his cum slowly oozing out of your glistening hole. pressing an open-mouthed kiss to your butt-cheek, rafe stood up, watching as you straightened yourself up with slightly wobbly legs, “i want you to stay the night,” he spoke decidedly, licking over his lips as you spun on your heels, leaning back against his desk.
sinking your top teeth into the fat of your bottom lip, you stretched your swollen lips into a nodding smile, before you shrugged, “and i want you to leave your wife, papi,” you retorted, pulling your lips into a needy pout as rafe sighed, watching as you picked up the photo of rafe, his wife, and daughter that laid peacefully on the corner of his desk, “i guess we have to wait to get what we want, huh?” you forced a smile, placing the picture frame back into its rightful position on the desk, before swallowing thickly.
you cared deeply about rafe’s daughter, you saw how timid she was, how lonely she’d been prior to meeting you, and sure, it was pretty messed up that you’d been fucking her father and having a secret relationship, but you couldn’t control who your heart wanted — it just so happened to be the father of your best friend.
rafe wasn’t happy with his wife, he’d just so happened to become comfortable with their repetitive routine, and the the age gap between you two always rung in the back of his mind. he loved those secret rendezvous with you, whether he took you for a shopping day on the mainland, or managed to steal you away for a long weekend on some random resort, rafe loved when it was you two, away from the harsh reality that was his marriage and you being his daughter’s best friend.
“y’know it’s not that easy, baby — i can’t just fuckin’ get divorced because you want me to, she’s my daughter’s mother,” rafe spoke sternly, now standing directly in front of you, nudging your chin with the side of his index finger as you refused to look at him. with a sigh, rafe place his hands on either side of you, glancing up at you through hooded eyes, “c’mon, don’t be mad at me, princess, y’know i can’t take it,” he pouted playfully, his heart swelling just a bit as you struggled to bite back a smile, before your doe eyes fell on his. with a roll of your eyes, you sighed defeatedly.
deciding to table the conversation, for now, you pushed yourself up to sit on the desk, “i’m sticky, we should take a shower,” you hummed, pulling rafe in closer to you as you wrapped your legs around his waist. pressing a kiss to his neck, you playfully caught his chain between your teeth with a small laugh, “you’re sweaty,” you commented, pulling away as rafe captured your puffy lips into a warm kiss. letting out a soft moan, you wrapped your arms around rafe’s neck as you smiled into the kiss.
sealing the kiss with a peck to your lips, rafe chuckled breathily as he pulled away, a smirk on his face as you wiped his shiny lips with your thumb, “a’ight, let’s go shower, yeah? can’t have my pretty girl walking around all dirty,” he huffed, sliding an arm under the curve of your ass, lifting you onto his waist. with a knowing laugh, rafe smiled as his shirt became sticky from the cum that dripped out of your sensitive pussy, “y’fuckin’ leaking, mama,” he teased further, earning an embarrassed whine from you as you hid your face in the crook of his neck.
pulling your head to face rafe, you couldn’t help but blush as he quickly stole a kiss from your parted lips, just as you were about to speak, “you’re the worst,” you spoke, causing rafe to hum dismissively as he walked backwards into the awaiting bathroom. the two of you completely oblivious to the sound of his wife’s car as it pulled into the driveway.
#anon#asks#rafe cameron prompt#rafe cameron smut#rafe cameron x reader#rafe cameron imagine#rafe cameron#obx imagine#obx#younger!reader
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I’m LITERALLY screaming at ghost with a praise kink !!!!!!! That was so fucking good I am foaming at the mouth!! Was that part of the 12 days of kinkmas thing? Also, side note, can we read all of these as civilian!reader? Or will the 12 days of kinkmas be outside that little au?
Also, if I may be so bold, could I request ghost with a breeding kink, perhaps? 🫣
Note: Firstly, thank you so much for sending this request, you have no idea how much I needed to write this down! As for your questions, anything that comes before the 14th of December is totally just for fun and part of my normal writing so these types of things aren't part of the 12 Days of Kinkmas. Also, the Kinkmas will continue to be part of the Civilian series but honestly you can read my fics in whatever way makes you happy!
Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Civilian!Reader
Warnings: No mask Simon (It's my personal headcanon in his regular life he probably wouldn't wear it), established relationship, teasing, breeding kink, P in v sex, lots of talk about pregnancy and knocking up, unprotected sex, canon-typical swearing.
There was no denying that Simon was in a strange mood. Where usually he rarely touched you in public now his arm was draped over your shoulder like some kind of accessory or his hand lingered on your lower back and even drifting down to cup your bum. He’d lean down and whisper into your ear, pressing a tender kiss to the hinge of your jaw. Everything he seemed to do only lead to you feeling a little warm.
It was just unlike him. Simon was usually very reserved in public, sometimes even holding your hand was too much affection for him.
All day you wracked your brain trying to figure out what had changed or what had sparked this sudden alteration in Simon’s mentality. As instructed you were stood by the hob, slowly stirring a pot of whatever Simon had prepared. You had been so deep in your thoughts you hadn’t heard Simon approaching from behind, slinking up behind you, strong arms tying around your middle and sucking you back against his form.
Those skilful lips found your throat, humming as Simon pressed a couple tender kisses to the areas of skint that were exposed. “Si, what has gotten into you lately?” You giggle was breathless, wooden spoon long forgotten in hand as your head tilted back into his shoulder. “Fuck~”
Simon continued to kiss and suckle at your throat before muttering out coldly. “Y’gonna think it’s stupid…” Then resuming his attack on your throat. “You know…” Losing track of your words as his lips nipped at your earlobe playfully. “Nothing… nothing you could say… would ever be… stupid…” The words seemed to trail away pointlessly.
For a few moments Simon remained painfully quiet, his hands roaming around your mid area, rubbing and soothing his hands against it. “Fuckin’ hell…” Like always when frustrated or a loss for words Simon growled out the expletive. “Fine…” He muttered, keeping you firmly facing away from him so that he was able to try and form a sensible sentence. “Been havin’ this dream lately…” Simon let out a low huff. “Sound so fuckin’ stupid…”
“A dream?” You quizzed, pinch forming between your brows. “What kind of dream?” “A dream… it keeps coming back…” Simon smirked. “I don’t dream ever but this one… this one won’t get out of my fuckin’ head.” Those strong hands continued to stroke and caress your stomach before finally he allowed the truth to spill from his lips. “You were pregnant.” The hands on your stomach were so soft and soothing, like trying to manifest his dream in reality. “You were pregnant with my baby… and you looked so fuckin’ good…” The word rolled off his tongue like it was dripping in sin and you knew then you were going to need to change your panties.
A big grin found your face. “Is that right?” He growled in a moment, yanking you over to bend you over the kitchen table. “Simon, the dinner-” “Don’t worry. I’ll fill you up.” Simon growled, yanking down your sweats and underwear in a quick moment. “Need to get this dream out of my head, babe. Can you… can you let me do this… please…” There was almost pleading to his tone and it caused you to rub your thighs together as you leaned over the table, his hand pressed between your shoulders.
“You can do it.” You confirmed gently and in the moments that followed Simon was kicking your legs apart to exposing your sopping cunt. “Look at this…” His hand cupped your sex, watching you shudder on the table. “Looks like you like the sound of my dream too, love.” A couple fingers slipped into your cunt, spreading your walls wide around his thick fingers and making you whimper against the table. “Is that right, baby? You want me to fill you up? Want me to pump you full of cum?”
A tight couple whimpers came from your throat. “Please. Please. Please.” You whimpered lowly, shunting your hips back to practically ride his fingers as they spread you wide. “Please, need you… need you inside me…” It was as if that was all the encouragement that Simon needed, because in the next moment he was unbuckling his belt, taking his rock hard cock in hand, massaging and rolling back the uncut skin as he pressing himself against your tight open and letting out a low groan as he sank inside, feeding you inch after inch until he reached the hilt, hips firmly pressed against your rear. “Good girl… Good fuckin’ girl takin’ every fuckin’ inch of me like I taught you.”
After allowing you a couple moments to finally adjust to his immense size Simon drew back and began to fuck into you, hard and fast, one hand braced on your shoulder whilst the other cupped under your knee to lift onto the table. “Feel… so fuckin’ good…” He growled out, teeth grit, muscles strained, wound so tight you wondered if he might snap, or if this was maybe him snapping. “Gonna look… so good filled up with me… know you’re gonna look so good, baby.”
“Simon-” “I know, baby. I know.” His hips shunted faster and shallower, hardly removing his cock halfway before shoving it back inside of you. “Fuckin’… tight cunt…” He cried out lowly. “Can’t wait… can’t wait to see you dripping… dripping with me…” Simon let out a low groan. “I’m gonna… gonna keep pumping you full… full until you’re bursting.”
The kitchen was filled with wet, slapping sounds. The sound of Simon fucking into you with so much love and adoration. The promises of a future. The prospect of having a full life together. It was enough to make your walls begin to squeeze and tighten, that and the feeling of your clit rubbing awkwardly against the table with each brutal thrust from Simon’s strong hips into your own, pistoning his thick cock relentlessly.
“There. There. There.” Your voice was begging and then following by a couple moans and squeaks as your cunt spasmed and squeezed around him. “There it is…” Simon hissed. “There it is, baby. Fuck, feel so fuckin’ good…” He growled, tilting his head back. “Tell me… Please… Tell me you want it… B-beg for it…” His hips snapped erratically, trying to stave of his own end even as your cunt milked and tried to force it from him.
“Simon~” You squeaked. “Simon… Simon, please… I need… I need your cum… I need you to fill me up… I need you to knock me up…” The words flowed so easily, unsure if you even believe them or wanted it to come true, but it seemed to be enough to throw him wildly over the edge, growling, huffing, snapping his hips aggressively and finally pumping you to the brim with his cum. It was a feeling unmatched, the warmth spreading throughout your walls leaving you humming lowly from the table. “Thank you…” Simon whispered into the air, leaning over your frame to press a couple kisses to your shoulder. “Thank you, babe.”
The two of you stood there, panting and slowly coming down from your highs, the kitchen table completely disgraced from your actions, his cum seeping out from your cunt and around his cock to seep onto the wood, the dinner completely forgotten about and burnt beyond recognition by now and the two of you left with a lot to think about.
Masterlist | Ask | 05-12-2023
#simon riley x reader#ghost x reader#simon ghost riley#simon ghost x reader#simon riley#simon riley x you#ghost cod#ghost mw2#simon riley imagine#simon riley cod#simon ghost riley x reader#ghost simon riley#simon riley x y/n#ghost call of duty#ghost#ghost x y/n#ghost x you#ghost smut#simon riley smut
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141Rugby!au [18+]
• Part Three - Good Girl •
Simon "Ghost" Riley x fem!reader
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You've recently started a new job as a physiotherapist for an English Rugby Union team. It's your job to ensure that all the players are in top shape for upcoming games against other strong teams. This job is absolutely perfect for you: good pay, good hours, a fun and exciting atmosphere to be apart of. But there's just one thing you can't seem to understand– the same four players seem to need more attention than the rest.
chapter summary - after hearing the kind of treatment you're giving his teammates, the number 8 thinks it's only fair for him to receive the same treatment too lol.
rating - 18+
wordcount - 7.5k
chapter warnings - fem!reader, slow-ish burn [but not really cause ik you're here for the porn], oral fixation type beat, oral [m!receiving], dry (wet?) humping, thigh-riding, discussion of m!masturbation, degradation, light dumbification, praise, dacryphilia?? idk, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, discussion of foursome/sharing, simon's a little possessive tho, and simon's obsessed with you tbh, and he talks about his dick a lot lol, strong language
disclaimer - physiotherapist, or staff x player sexual relations are not allowed in the real world. but please keep in mind this is fanfiction. it's fake. if you have an issue with inappropriate relations with faculty, blurred morals [etc], then please do not read. additionally, reader be fucking in this series. all four. separately, and at once. it's not cheating, i promise. it's consensual sharing <3
Ghost is a number 8, or eighthman – supports the back line, carries the ball well and tackles strongly. this position tends to be the perfect mix of strong and agile.
see my rugby union introductory for definitions of rugby words
<- part two | part four ->
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"How was dinner?" Simon asked that evening, entering his and Johnny's shared flat, kicking off his shoes near the door.
It was late, nearing midnight, when Simon returned home. He, Price and Gaz had trained for several hours, and then went out to dinner. Simon returned home expecting for Johnny to be occupied, and so he entered tentatively, but he found the Scot sitting on the couch watching some shitty reality TV programme.
"It was nice," Johnny said flippantly. "Yeah... real nice."
Simon raised his eyebrows, coming to perch himself on the couch– the couch that, unbeknownst to him, you had made a mess on just a few hours prior. Simon looked over at Johnny, who ignored the blond and continued watching TV. Slightly annoyed, Simon snatched the remote and shut the TV off, much to Johnny's dismay.
"Hey!" Johnny frowned.
"Tell me about your date." Simon said, and Johnny sat up, leaning back against the plush armchair.
"It wasn't a date," Johnny rolled his eyes. "And I told you, it was nice. She's really nice company, you know."
Simon hummed, intrigued. "I bet..." Then, he waited for Johnny to continue, but he didn't. Simon cocked his head to the side, and Johnny mimicked the movement, a grin on his face. Simon rolled his eyes. "You already know what I'm about to say."
Johnny laughed. "No, we didn't fuck."
"How come?"
Johnny shrugged. "Just the way it went. Dinner was nice, and we talked for fuckin' hours. I could listen to the lass talk forever," he smiled, then continued. "By the time we stopped talking, it was too late, and she had to head home."
Simon narrowed his eyes at his friend, leaning back on the couch and stretching his arm atop the top of the backrest. He drummed his fingers against the fabric. "S'that all you did? Talk and ate?"
Johnny smiled. Simon knew that fucking smile.
Simon raised his eyebrows, imploring Johnny to tell him everything. Johnny cocked his head to the side again, wanting Simon to ask about it.
"Fuck sake," Simon shook his head. "Fine... what did you do?"
"'M glad you asked," Johnny split into a cheeky grin. "Since you really want to know–"
"Really is a bit of an exaggeration–"
"She played with herself while I watched. Right there on that fuckin' couch, Simon." Johnny nodded at the couch, and Simon instinctively looked down at the fabric. Johnny smiled. "Right where you're sitting, actually."
Simon made no effort to move. He looked back up at his friend. "You told her how to touch herself, Johnny?"
"Mhm," Johnny said proudly. "While I fucked my fist, too. Came so fuckin' hard I almost burnt my fuckin' roast."
Simon laughed through his nose. "I don't think the force of your orgasm is what made you almost burn your roast. It more likely had something to do with your distraction."
"It was a bloody good distraction, Ghost," Johnny said around a smile. "You... you need to try her, sometime."
Simon felt his eyebrows pinch together in a subtle frown. "Don't talk about her like that. She's not a toy."
Johnny looked offended. "No, no, didn't mean it like that. I just mean, you know, if you wanted too, she'd... she'd probably let you."
"Let me what?"
"Let you..." Johnny raised his eyebrows. "Let you fuck her."
"Wow, real mature, Johnny," Simon quipped, leaning back into the sofa, adjusting his sitting position with a shift of his hips. "What makes you think I want her like that?"
Johnny rolled his eyes. "I'm not fuckin' blind, Ghost. You fancy her, as do half the fuckin' team, eh? And besides, who wouldn't like her like that. She's perfect."
"Perfect?" Simon mumbled out, looking around the living room.
If he put his head at a certain angle, in a certain direction, he could smell you– the sweetness of your perfume, the fragrance of your shampoo. It managed to linger in the air over top of the smell of roast, and the vague tang of citrus cleaning products.
In the armchair, Johnny shrugged again, eyes wandering. "Well, you know, I could put in a good word for you if you wanted me to."
Simon shot daggers at Johnny, then got to his feet, stretching out his back. His knuckles cracked when he flexed his fingers, a throbbing pain appearing at the base of his fingers. Johnny noticed the way Simon's face contorted into a pained grimace.
"Oh, so the appointment's real?"
"What?" Simon frowned.
"You're really going to see her 'cause you're hurt? I thought you'd made it up." Johnny said, and Simon huffed, annoyed, tossing his Scottish friend an unimpressed look.
"Yes, I'm hurt, you fuckwit," Simon muttered, holding his right hand to his chest. Then, defiantly, he turned back to his friend. "You know what?"
"What?" Johnny was grinning now.
Simon wished he could wipe that cheeky grin off of his friend's face. But he knew he couldn't. Not when his next words made the smile grow tenfold.
"I am going to try her an' see how perfect she really is."
•º•º•
Simon didn't want to come onto you to strong– pun definitely not intended. Not yet, anyway.
He didn't want to crowd you, or stress you out. He didn't want to make you uncomfortable, or make you feel as though he was taking advantage of you. He didn't want that. He admitted telling Johnny he wanted to try you was a fucking prick thing to say, but he didn't know how else to phrase it. Because, well, it was true. He did want to try you. Just like Johnny and Gaz did. The lucky bastards.
His interest piqued when he got a good look at you on the sidelines of one of their first matches. Of course, he saw you on your first day, and around the grounds several days after that, but he really got a good look at you when you were taping up Gaz's wrist all those weeks ago.
Simon was benched, and sitting at the very opposite end to you. He did find himself glancing over in your direction every so often, just to see what the fuss was about. Many of the lads had taken interest in you, but you seemed oblivious– or possibly just immune– to their charm. But, Simon did notice that Gaz's charm seemed to be working.
So Simon took note.
He noted the way Gaz was genuinely nice to you, polite and well-mannered. He didn't flirt with you heavily, not like how the other players described their flirting tactics. Gaz was feather-light with his advances, and he never forced you close to him. He simply allowed you to gravitate towards him.
And so that's how Simon knew he wanted to play it. He had always been a strategist– being a number 8, that line of thinking was critical. He read the play well, picked up on body-language and non-verbal cues– that was his job, basically. So he took note on how Gaz approached you, how he spoke to you, how he spoke about you to the others. The winger was polite, respectful and, above all, successful.
He had told Simon, Johnny and Price all about his little encounter with the team's physio while at the gym a couple of weeks before Johnny decided to give it a go. He explained how he did it, why he wanted to do it– and then proceeded to gush about how much he enjoyed it, how much he enjoyed you.
You, you, you.
That's what triggered Simon's interest in you.
Of course, like he said before, he picked up on a few things while you taped Gaz's wrist that day. You were so gentle with him, smiling and joking, and you did your job so well.
But when Gaz couldn't shut his mouth at the gym that night, and now how Johnny wouldn't stop fucking smiling about you– god, Simon really, really wanted you now.
And usually, when Simon wants something, he get's it. He got the number 8 position in the team. He got player of the year last year. He'll get the team's physiotherapist, too. If Johnny could do it, surely it wouldn't be too hard.
But Simon purposely made it harder for himself to ensure that everything seemed easier on you.
The first appointment he had with you, where you took his hand so gently into yours, running your fingers over his knuckles, his palm, his wrist, he willed himself not to get hard. Willed himself not to pop a fucking boner in his boxers at your touch, at the way your pretty eyes stared up at him, and the way you had that welcoming, warm smile.
That appointment, he made sure he didn't flirt with you. Not one little bit. He kept conversation casual, platonic. The small talk was polite and, dare he say it, mundane. It was his own fault, but he had to stick with it. He asked you about your day, about future appointments. He asked you about why you took the job, and how you were liking it so far. He didn't push it.
But, after booking the next appointment, he headed for the door, looking over his shoulder to give you the simplest of smiles. He then uttered, "Have a nice day, love."
Success. He watched you fidget on the spot at his words. Then he left.
He'd jerk off to your expression in the shower when he got home. But first, he needed to go to the fucking gym.
The next appointment, about a week after the first, Simon knew it was time to start wiggling his way into your mind. Get you thinking about him. He knew you were still thinking about Soap and Gaz– and probably still paying them visits, too– so Simon knew that putting thoughts of him into your head wouldn't be too hard.
So he planted little seeds. Polite, of course, without pressing into any boundary that he knew would make uncomfortable.
But he placed lingering touches– brushing his fingers against yours when you handed him something, or craning his head just a bit closer to yours when he looked over your shoulder as you showed him something on your computer. He wore more cologne so it'd linger in your office. He said hello to you in the hallway before anyone else could. He made sure to do his warm-up stretches in the middle of the playing field where he knew you'd have a good view from your office.
Strategic. Like all number 8's should be.
And he wasn't the best number 8 in the entire UK for fucking nothing.
He noticed it start to work that very same week. The following days after his second appointment, leading up to his third. Days he noticed your eyes light up when he waved to you in the hall; days you smiled from your window while you watched him warm-up; days where you got flustered when he winked at you while you were talking to Johnny.
Johnny noticed it too.
That happened just a few hours before his third appointment��� an appointment he scheduled a bit earlier in the week than usual, only a few days after his second. He was so close.
Johnny teased him. "You're on the fuckin' prowl, Ghost."
"Don't say it like that, Johnny, what the fuck," Simon growled. The pair were walking from their flat towards their home stadium. Simon shook his head. "She's a human being."
"She sure is," Johnny said wistfully, as though remembering something he was fond of. Simon guessed he was, something fond of you, so he elbowed the Scot in the ribs as they crossed the road. Johnny laughed. "Alright, that's enough, I get it."
Simon grumbled under his breath as the two friends made their way towards the stadium along the roadside. As cars drove past, he heard the voice of a kid yell, "Ghost! Soap!" which made Simon smile.
After a moment of walking in silence, Johnny cleared his throat. Simon looked at him in annoyance.
Johnny pouted at Simon's expression. "What're you mad for? I haven't said anything yet!"
"You don't need to," Simon said. "I know whatever you're about to say is gonna be stupid."
"Is not."
"Is too."
Johnny grumbled. "You're no fun."
Simon looked at Johnny, then over to the looming stadium, then back to Johnny again. He sighed, stuffing his hands in the pocket of his hoodie as he walked.
"Fine," he said. "What is it?"
Johnny smiled. "Have you got a plan?"
"A plan...?"
"Yeah to, you know, woo the lass."
"Woo the lass," Simon echoed with a mouthful of disinterest. "You're a fuckwit."
"Hey, I'm just asking!" Johnny held up his hands in mock-surrender. When he put them back down, he wiggled his eyebrows at Simon. "...So?"
Simon rolled his eyes.
Johnny smiled. "I'll take that as a yes."
Simon sighed through his nose. Johnny was right, but he didn't want to admit that. Simon'd rather hurt his other hand than admit it, because the look on Johnny's face already– and Simon hadn't even admitted anything– was enough. Enough for Simon to shoulder Johnny and force him off the pavement.
Johnny laughed as he toppled over into a row of hedges. He yelled out at Simon as the blond kept walking. "Don't go throwin' me 'round, Simon! Otherwise I'll end back up in doc's office!"
Simon clenched his jaw. Don't bite back.
•º•º•
"How does that feel?" You asked, two hands holding one of Simon's large ones.
Your soft fingers traced over his lower knuckles, pressing gently on the space of finger between those knuckles, and the row in the middle of the fingers. You rubbed circles on each finger for a couple of seconds, and Simon watched you, his gaze unwavering.
You felt very warm.
"That's good," Simon said quietly when you got to his pinky-finger, pressing at the bones and joints and looking up to his face for any flicker of pain. He looked at you as you searched his face. He allowed himself a small smile. "It's good, doc. I promise."
You smiled back up at him and dropped his hand. He frowned.
You didn't notice. "Good, that's good. Alright, so I suppose this is our last appointment..." you meandered over to your computer, sliding into the chair and beginning to type at lightening speed. Simon watched your fingers fly over the keyboard.
"Our... last one?" Simon voiced, tone even and not at all betraying the disappointment he felt inside.
"Yep, our last one," you said. You finished up on your computer and then looked over at him with a beaming smile. "You're all good to go."
Simon slid off of the medical table, not having to drop far. He towered over you, which he knew you liked– based on the way you chewed subtly on your bottom lip when he stood over you.
So, phase one of his plan that, if Soap was somehow listening, definitely did not exist– use his height to his advantage.
You got up from behind your desk to walk him to the door, and Simon took the opportunity to walk directly next to you until you both reached the door. When you opened the door, Simon stepped into the frame and turned around so he could face you, leaning his shoulder against the framing and crossing his muscular arms over his broad chest. He watched the way your eyes followed the movement. You swallowed nervously.
"Thanks for that, doc," he said lowly. "I appreciate it."
"O-oh, yeah, it's no big deal," you stuttered. "Just... just doing my job, you know?"
Your eyes didn't meet his. Not when he was executing phase two– holding eye contact. A soft kind of eye contact, the same Gaz always used. Simon kept a slight crinkle in the corners of his eyes, his lids lowering a fraction as his eyes scanned your face, darting from your eyes to your lips in perfectly timed intervals.
Your throat was drying. You cleared it with a low cough. "Right, well... did you need anything?"
Phase three, the riskier part of the plan–
"You like the way I look at you, doc?" Simon whispered. He felt nerves twisting in his own stomach as he waited an eternity (less than a second) for your response. He looked down at you softly.
You cleared your throat again. "I... I mean, I don't– I don't mind if, you mean– if you meant it like that–"
Phase four, even fucking riskier–
"Answer my question, doc," Simon whispered. "An' use your words, hm? You like the way I look at you? You like the way I'm talking to you?"
And, if his plan worked, if it somehow worked, then the outcome would be–
"...yes." A whisper from your pretty lips.
Perfect. Mission-fucking-successful.
"Yeah?" Simon was still leaning against the doorframe. "How do I make you feel?"
"...warm," you confessed quietly, not meeting his eyes. "You... fucking hell, you give me butterflies."
"Butterflies?" Simon grinned. "Do I? How else do I make you feel?"
Simon walked forward, and you walked backwards. Enough so that he quietly shut the door and then spun the lock. It clicked. Locked.
You swallowed. "I– you–"
"Look at me when you're talking to me, doc."
You looked up at him, his hazy blue eyes and the mosaic of scars running across his face.
"How do I make you feel when I look at you like this?" He asked, moving forward. You were backing yourself towards your desk. He cocked his head at you. "How do you feel when you look at me?"
"Good," you breathed. "Feel's good... I like the way you look at me and... and I like looking at you."
"Yeah? You do, love?" Simon goaded, and your backside hit your desk. "D'you want to know how I feel?"
You nodded quickly. Simon chuckled.
"O'course you do..." He stepped into your space, the lower part of his chest up against the top of yours. He looked down at you, his arms coming to rest on your hips. "Is this okay?"
You nodded. "Yes..."
Simon leaned down until his nose brushed against yours. You closed your eyes in anticipation, your lips just a hair-length apart. You could feel his breath fanning across your face, and your stomach flipped at his close proximity.
"I love the way you touch me," he whispered, his words tickling your lips. "Love the way you look at me, too. Y'look at me like I'm the prettiest thing on earth, don't you? Love the way you look at me with them pretty eyes, like you want me to fuck you, hm?"
Your mouth dropped open in a gasp, and Simon took the opportunity to press his mouth to yours, slipping his tongue into your mouth. One of the hands he had on your hips moved upwards to cup the back of your head, moving you closer to him as his lower body pushed yours against the wooden desk.
"That's what you want?" He asked, breaking the kiss and shifting his pelvis against yours. You could feel the hard, large imprint of his cock against your front, and it made you whimper, squirming in his hold. He hummed, closing his eyes as you ground yourself against the growing bulge in his trousers. "Yeah? You want me to fuck you? You want me to fill your tight cunt with my big fuckin' cock, hm?"
You moaned, and Simon swallowed it– kissing you roughly by pulling you into him using the hand he had on the back of your head. His tongue licked against yours, running over the ridges of your teeth, and he groaned. He groaned at the taste of you, the warmth and the wetness of your mouth. His cock twitched in his boxers.
He pulled out of the kiss, placing one quick peck on your lips before pulling his face away. "Got a pretty damn mouth on you, doc."
The hand on the back of your head shifted to the side of your face, and you were blinking back surprise when his thumb brushed over your lips. You opened your mouth when he flicked his thumb against your bottom lip, and he grumbled in his chest– a pleased purr, almost– when he slipped his thumb into your mouth. You wrapped your tongue around the digit, retaining eye-contact as you sucked his thumb further into your mouth, the rest of his hand holding firmly onto the base of your jaw.
Simon pressed his thumb down onto your tongue when you took the digit further back into your mouth. You gagged, but he kept his thumb there. You gagged again, eyes watering, and Simon slowly dragged his thumb back to the front of your mouth, flicking it against the tip of your tongue.
"You wanna suck my cock, love?" Simon asked in a whisper, swiping the pad of his thumb along your teeth, feeling the ridges of your molars and the points of your lower canines.
You whined around his thumb, still sucking gently, nodding as his eyes swept over your face.
"'Atta girl," Simon praised, pulling his thumb from your mouth and then gripping your jaw, smearing your saliva across your cheek. "How about you get down on them knees, doc?"
He spun you both around so that he was now leaning his backside against the desk. He then let go of your head and allowed you to lower yourself to the ground in front of him, your hands resting on the thick of his strong thighs.
He gestured to his fly and button, and you got the hint. Saliva already pooling in your mouth, you popped the button of his jeans and then unzipped the fly, lowering them enough to get a good look at the imprint of his cock in his boxers. There was a small wet patch on the front, and it made your pussy flutter around nothing.
Acting on your own accord, you leaned forward and pressed kisses along the bulge, tongue moving against the cotton, laving over the patch of pre-cum that stained the material. Simon's hand shot down to hold the crown of your head as you kissed the hard imprint of his cock, whimpering in the back of your throat at the warmth against your lips and tongue.
His hips bucked, the stain of pre-cum growing bigger as his cock leaked within the confines of his boxers, twitching as the warm wetness of your mouth pressed open-mouthed kisses over it.
"Fuck, yeah, that's it, love," Simon breathed. "Kiss my cock– use that pretty mouth."
You whined against him, nose sliding over the waistband of his boxers. Your fingers trailed up his thighs until they reached the waistband, and you leaned your head back so you could pull his boxers down far enough for his cock to fall out.
Simon's cock was heavy, curving forward under the weight of his arousal, his balls heavy too, waiting– just waiting– to bust a load all over your pretty face, or in that warm mouth. His tip was flushed red, all the blood flow having travelled down while you kissed him, leaking droplets of pre-cum. And then your favourite part– the dark blond hair of his happy-trail leading to the patch near the base of his cock.
You whined again, bringing a hand to your face and spitting in it, before wrapping your fingers around the girth of his cock. Simon groaned, fingers flexing around the top of your head, holding you still as you began to work your hand up and down.
"Dirty fuckin' girl, that's it," he hissed, your eyes on him as you jerked him off. Your lips were just a whisper away from his leaking tip, and with each laboured breath you panted out, his cock twitched. He looked down at you with a lust-drunk gaze. "Are you going to keep playing with my cock, or are you going to put it in your mouth?"
You answered him by opening your mouth and letting your tongue drop out slightly. He hummed– a deep grumble from his chest– pleased with you, before bringing his free hand down to grab the base of his cock. You dropped your hand away from him, instead resting it against the solid warmth of his thigh.
Simon fisted his cock in front of your face, one hand keeping your head in place. He angled his hips so he could tap the flushed tip against your tongue, smearing pre-cum along the flat of the smooth muscle. A bead of saliva pearled at the tip of your tongue, and he smacked the tip of his cock against it, forcing your saliva to drip out of your mouth and down your chin. You frowned at him, and he smiled, whispering, "so messy."
Your jaw was just beginning to ache when he finally dropped more of his cock against your tongue, the solid weight of it wiping the frown from your face. You continued to look up at the rugby player before you as his cock inched further into your mouth– slowly enough that you could feel the velveteen ridges and veins across the surface of your pre-cum tainted tongue. You whimpered softly as Simon held your head firmer, feeding his cock into your mouth, forcing your tongue to draw back inside and your lips to seal around him.
"Take it..." Simon whispered, his tone soft. The fat head of his cock nudged the back of your throat after a moment, and you immediately gagged around him, tears springing to your eyes. Simon tutted, shifting his hips back and pulling his cock away from your uvula. His fingers massaged the top of your head. "What's 'a matter, pretty girl? S'my cock too big?"
You frowned at him again, your hands tightening against his thighs. Without his instruction, you pushed forward and took more of him into your mouth, the leaking tip nudging near the back of your throat. You withheld a gag, tears blurring your vision as you took most of him, your nose parallel to his pelvis. He was still holding his cock, so your lips pressed flush against his knuckles. You worked your tongue around him, smoothing warmly around the girth of his cock, and he tossed his head back and groaned, hips twitching.
"Yeah, that's'a fuckin' girl, baby–" he growled, head flopping forward to watch you once more. "Yeah, take my fuckin' cock. Take it all in this pretty mouth."
He removed his hand from his cock, instead gripping the edge of your desk for leverage. His other hand remained on your head, gently beginning to guide you. You worked with him– taking him as far back in your throat as you could, coating his cock in saliva, running your tongue along the underside of him until he eased back into your mouth a bit– then, you circled the tip, sucking gently, hollowing your cheeks, before he was pushing further in again. You took one hand, still sticky with your saliva, and pumped the base of his cock– all of which you couldn't fit in your mouth.
He grumbled out grunts and groans, his eyes on you the entire time. You did your best to maintain eye-contact as well, but tears were still fresh in your waterline, and the force of his thick cock sliding down your throat urged your eyelids shut.
A tear slipped from each eye, dropping down your cheeks. As he panted, focused on the warmth of your mouth around his desperately hard cock, Simon moved both of his hands to your face. He cupped both of your cheeks, running his thumbs along your cheekbones and catching the tears, smearing them across your soft skin. You blinked up at him, his bottom lip caught between his teeth as he looked down at you. He continued to cup your face, both large hands heavy on your cheeks, as he gently guided your mouth along his cock.
"There you go, that's my girl..." He muttered, pulling your head right down to the base of his cock, your throat constricting around him as you resisted the urge to gag. You whimpered around him, the heady tip of his cock nudging the back of your throat, messing with your oxygen intake. The vibrations from your whimpering made Simon groan above you. "God, love, keep doing that. Jus' like that, yeah... fuck– keep using that pretty mouth."
He continued to look at you– in such a way your stomach was doing flips, your heart beating rapidly in your chest. You desperately blinked the moisture from your vision so you could see more of his handsome face, and the way he occasionally drew his lower lip between his teeth, and the way his dark brows pinched together in pleasure.
He still had both hands on your face, guiding you, petting you, stroking your cheeks and thumbing your cheekbones. His eyes never left your face as you sucked his cock. You were the prettiest damn thing he'd ever seen.
Simon groaned at his own thoughts, hips twitching, more pre-cum dribbling out of his slit and down your throat. You swallowed around him, and he groaned again.
"Fuck– fuck– m'close, love, m'so fuckin' close–" Simon whispered, gritting his teeth as he felt his balls begin to tighten, along with the muscles in his lower abdomen. He held your head just a bit tighter. "M'gonna paint your face, doc."
Romantic, you thought, and you couldn't help but let slip a small giggle around his cock. Simon groaned, his hips jerking faster as he held your head in place, essentially fucking your throat. He was still so gentle though, despite the urgency of his thrusts into the warm heat of your mouth. You let him move you along the length of his cock, saliva dripping down your chin, before he was pulling you all the way off of his cock, a string of saliva connecting the tip and your lips.
"Tongue." He said breathlessly.
You stuck your tongue out as he fisted his cock quickly, wet sounds eliciting through your office. He groaned, a hiss of your name, before he was coming across your face. Most of his cum spurted across your tongue and in your mouth, but splatters flecked over you, milky strings along your saliva-slick lower face. Simon groaned the entire time he came, still pumping his cock in a bruised-knuckled fist, dribbles of white dripping from his cock while you curled your tongue back into your mouth and swallowed.
He was breathing hard, stuffing his semi-hard cock back into his boxers and trousers, and reaching down to take you by the upper arms. You let out an involuntary yelp when he effortlessly hauled you to your feet– as though you weighed absolutely fucking nothing– and pulled you with him. Wordlessly, he rounded your desk and sat down in your office chair, yanking you down onto his lap.
"Good girl." He was whispering as he brought his face to yours and kissed you. You hummed a moan against his lips. His tongue coaxed your mouth open, and the warm, wet muscle was smoothing against yours before you could even think.
One of his large hands cupped the side of your face, his thumb smearing a fat droplet of his cum against your cheek, while the other hand held your hip. With that hand, and all while kissing you, Simon guided you to straddle just one of his thick thighs, and slowly began rocking you against it. He tensed the muscle, and immediately felt the warmth of your clothed cunt beneath your trousers.
He broke the kiss to moan against your lips. "Fuckin' hell, doc, you're fuckin' soaked."
You whimpered, almost embarrassed, as Simon gripped your hip harder and ground you against him. He pressed you down heavier against him, revelling in the way he could feel the warm wetness of your core through both yours and his trousers. He kissed you again, rougher this time– a small clink of teeth, and a large amount of cum-tainted spit.
Butterflies in your stomach, you helped his urging movements. You moved your hips back and forth, sliding yourself against the taut muscles of his thigh. A high-pitched noise filtered from the back of your throat as your clit began to throb, your underwear damp against your slit. You tilted your head back, breaking the kiss so that you could mewl quietly into the silence of your office. Simon immediately attached his mouth to your throat, sucking harshly.
He grunted against your throat. "This pussy's all wet from suckin' my cock?" He then angled his head to suck kisses along your jaw, you face still inclined towards the ceiling.
"Yessss–" You whined, moving your hips faster. He let you– smiling against the skin of your jaw– letting the hand he had on your hip keep up with your desperate pace.
The two of you fell into a short, comfortable, lust-filled silence. The sounds of you panting, his grunting against your neck, and the shifting of fabric the only noises in your office. You whimpered as Simon continued sucking and biting kisses along the expanse of your neck and throat, the skin there sticky with his spit. You could still feel his semi-dried cum on your face.
But as you neared your first orgasm, rocking your clothed cunt against his thigh, your noises grew louder. You whimpering turned to stretched-out whines, and your panting increased in volume, coupled with airy moans– sounds that Simon loved and sounds that had his cock throbbing hard in his boxers. But he didn't want to compromise this situation at all.
The hand he had cupping your head moved along your face, two fingers dragging along your cheek and collecting a generous amount of his cum. Then, he simply shoved them past your lips and pressed down on your tongue, cutting you off mid-moan. Your eyes flew open, finding his, as you instinctively began sucking on the digits.
"You're a noisy girl, aren't you?" Simon muttered, eyes mapping every aspect of your face. "A noisy girl, and a messy girl."
You whimpered around his fingers, eyes almost rolling as your orgasm built heavily in your lower stomach. Your thighs quivered alongside his, and he could feel your cunt pulsing against him– all warm and wet and begging for his cock. But not yet. Not fucking yet.
You were so close– your entire body buzzing against him, skin flushed with a layer of sweat, face and neck sticky, lips tender from the force of Simon's kisses. Your orgasm was building, and building, and building still, and you were so close–
"Come for me," Simon ordered in a soft whisper, his two fingers rubbing against your tongue. "Come for me, love."
It was like your body had been waiting for his permission. The band in your lower belly snapped, your orgasm racking through you in forceful waves, your body shaking against him. A loud moan was caught in your throat, his fingers pinning your tongue to the floor of your mouth, forcing you to whimper out to him instead. Your eyes dropped shut, a bead of saliva pushing out from between his fingers and your lips, running down his wrist. He groaned.
But he didn't stop rocking you against him. Even when you tired and your desperate movements slowed, he didn't. He didn't slow. With all the stamina and strength of a good number 8, he kept his hand tight on your hip and continued to grind you against his muscular thigh.
After a moment of realising that he was not stopping, your eyes flew open and found him already looking at you. His eyes had been on where his fingers disappeared into your mouth– and he pushed them in further, until the middle knuckles slid past your lips. You almost choked, moving your tongue around them now that he wasn't pinning them to the bottom of your mouth. His eyes then found yours.
"So pretty..." He muttered. "So pretty when you come. Want you to come again."
You whimpered, frowning. Simon chuckled, a beautiful smile stretching across his face. He leaned in, moving his fingers to one corner of your mouth so that he place a chaste kiss to your lips. When he pulled away, he was still smiling.
"You thought I was done with one?" He asked you, not quite condescending, but enough so to make you pout around his fingers. "No, no, love, we're not stoppin' at one. We're not fuckin' stoppin' until you've drenched my trousers, got it?"
That had your second orgasm creeping up inside you. You nodded wildly, and he pulled his fingers out of your mouth briefly to give you a pat on the side of the face.
"Good girl." He said, and then his fingers were back in your mouth again. This time, he hooked them around your bottom teeth and, with his thumb on your jaw, he pulled your mouth open just a little bit– enough so he could lean in and kiss you deeper than the last time. He licked into your mouth and you squirmed against him, the feeling of his tongue against yours making your hips stutter against his thigh.
He kissed you like that, with his chin resting on his own fingers, until your second orgasm hit you. He pulled away with your spit smeared across his lips as you came, your cunt pulsing against him again. He could almost feel your heartbeat in the warmth of your pussy, making the muscles of his thigh flex again. He continued to rock you through it.
"I think one more will do it," Simon hummed, more to himself than to you. He could feel the heat of your slick soaking through your own trousers, but it was yet to soak through to his. He wanted a wet patch on his fucking leg. "You can do one more, can't you, doc?"
Simon pulled his fingers from your mouth and gripped both of your hips now. He renewed his efforts, dragging you across his thigh, your legs shaking around him as your glazed eyes struggled to stay open. Your chest was rising and falling rapidly, brain fuzzy, body warm against his.
You mewled, hoarse and barely above a light whimper. "Simon–"
He groaned. "Fuck yeah, love, want you to say my name like that again. Go on. Say it again while I drag this pretty pussy over my thigh."
You did as you were told, moaning out quietly, your head dropping onto his shoulder. You mewled another "Simon–!" against him as you mouthed at the flushed skin of his neck. You were met with another deep groan, rumbling in his throat.
"Fuck," he grunted. "You– fuck– you have no idea how many times I've fucked my fist to that sound in my head. So many times I've come all over my fuckin' hand thinkin' about this perfect fuckin' pussy."
His accent was thickening. That made you moan.
He ground you harder against him, tensing his muscles tighter. You moaned into his neck, your body shaking.
Simon placed a gentle kiss your damp forehead. "Come on, love, come one more time. Soak my fuckin' thigh. I know you can do it, doc, I can feel how wet you are."
You whimpered. "Simon, please–"
"Look at me."
You did. You picked yourself up and looked at him as he guided you towards your third orgasm– your third orgasm in your fucking trousers only by grinding against his leg. Oh my god–
"When you come..." He began softly, one of his hands moving from your hip to hold your throat carefully. He held your head still, forcing as much eye-contact as he could. "When you come, I want you looking at me with those pretty eyes. Got it, doc?"
You nodded.
He smiled gently and repeated a soft "good girl" for what felt like the hundredth time. But you weren't complaining. It had your stomach twisting, your swollen clit pulsing, and finally your third orgasm washing over you.
Like a good girl, you listened to what he said. You maintained eye-contact as you came, despite the overwhelming urge to shut them. Your body shook against his, your cunt gushing into your underwear. You moaned his name and he kissed you quiet.
He chuckled against your lips– a triumphant smile forming as he felt your arousal dampen the leg of his trousers. He pulled away and lifted your hips lightly, getting a good look at the dark patch on his thigh. He moaned, cock twitching.
"God, what a messy fuckin' girl..."
You mewled, high on pleasure, beginning to palm at his crotch where his bulge pressed up against his zipper. Your hands groped the shape of him, and he hissed, grabbing hold of your hand.
"You want my cock that bad?" He whispered, your foreheads coming together and the two of you staring down at his bulge. "You want my cock in this pretty pussy?" The hand he had on your throat somehow found the wet space between your legs, rubbing his fingers along the seam there. You were so wet. He groaned. "You want my big cock to stuff this wet cunt, hm? Fill you with my cum? Fill you up and ruin you for anyone else?”
"Simon, oh my god." You uttered, still pawing at his hard cock. Your cunt was throbbing so fucking bad.
"This pussy just can't get enough, can she?" Simon mused, still rubbing at your overstimulated core, fingers grinding against the damp material covering your slit. "You fucked Gaz an' Soap, an' now you want my cock? So greedy, baby. Such a greedy little slut..."
His tone was so soft, that you almost missed the degradation. Instead, you shook your head, whimpering quietly as your fourth orgasm built in your lower tummy, the base of your spine tingling.
"No, no, haven't– fuck– haven't fucked them." You whispered hurriedly as he worked his fingers against you.
Simon tutted. "But you'd like that, wouldn't you? You'd love for both of them to fuck you, yeah? Just want three big fuckin' cocks stuffin' this tight fuckin' cunt."
Strong accent, more cussing. You moaned loudly. God, he was hot.
"I bet you want the captain's cock too, eh? Wouldn't be fuckin' surprised."
You moaned again, orgasm building heavier and heavier inside you. You imaged Price for a split second, and you moaned again.
Simon chuckled darkly. "Yeah? Needy girl, wanting four men? Want four cocks? Want us all to fuck you dumb, eh?" 'Course you fuckin' do."
"Please, Simon..." You whispered, body on fire.
He groan from the back of his throat. "But s'just me now, an' I'm the one making you come. So go on, pretty girl, come once more for me."
You came for a fourth time and you swear you almost blacked out. Stars burst behind your eyelids, a long string of whimpers falling from your lips as your cunt leaked arousal into your underwear, wetting your trousers even more. Simon peppered your face with kisses as you came down from your high, trembling, before he gathered you into his arms and hugged you to his broad chest.
"Good job, love," he whispered soothingly, rubbing your back. "Did such a good job for me. Such a good girl."
You were about to reply, something along the lines of– probably– begging for his cock even though you were so tired. But your phone buzzed against your desk, a brief vibration. You turned to look down at your screen to see a reminder flashing. Your eyes grew wide, realising you had another appointment in twenty minutes.
You peeled yourself away from Simon.
"Fuck, fuck!" You cursed. "I have another appointment in twenty minutes, Simon!”
"So?"
You looked at him, annoyed, then gestured to your trousers. "So? So? Simon, I've come four times in my fucking trousers and I'm wet."
He smiled.
"Don't fucking smile."
His smile dropped and he cleared his throat. "Right, sorry, love. I'll get you a pair'a my joggers if you want."
"You're taking the piss." You muttered as Simon got up, adjusting the way his hard cock sat in his trousers. You tried your best to avoid eye contact with it, as well as the large wet patch on his thigh. “Your joggers?”
He passed by you, kissing you gently on the forehead.
"Mhm," he hummed, already unlocking the door. "Anything for you, doc."
He disappeared, and you stared after him, shaking his head. Then, you spared a glance at yourself in the small mirror near the medical bed. You looked an absolute mess, with cum and saliva on your face. You groaned, heading towards the washbasin.
Maybe you had time to pop home and freshen up. Surely the captain wouldn't mind if you were a bit late.
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#captainfern#141rugby!au#call of duty#call of duty mw2#simon ghost riley smut#simon ghost riley#ghost call of duty#ghost x reader#simon riley#ghost x female reader
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Hello :D I saw that you write for Modern Warfare 2, so I'd like to request how the boys would react if you ask if they'd still love you if you were a worm! Hehehehe :p
"a...worm?" - modern warfare 2 x reader
overview: mw2 men reacting to you asking if they'd still love you if you were a worm
pairing: mw2 men x gender neutral reader, romantic
genre: fluff
a/n: hi anon! thanks for the request, it's really funny. i had a blast writing this. keep them coming!
x simon "ghost" riley
He would turn his head super slowly in your direction after you ask, and you can practically see the look on his face, even with his mask on 😭
He hits you with one of his side eyes, processing the question as he blinks judgementally at you.
“Fuckin' hell." He immediately sighs.
“Well? Would you?"
"Sure."
He would indeed love you, and yes, he would feed you and take care of you.
Realistically, Simon would keep you in his pocket at all times. He would also try to teach you self-defense! (Would it go horrible? Absolutely. But it’s the thought that counts.)
x john "soap" mactavish
“A worm?” He sits back in his seat, looking down at his shoes as he digs into his brain as if this is the most important question of his life. “Yeah, I think I would."
Before you know it, you’re discussing your worm life with Johnny in full detail, with him explaining how he’d build a small house for you in his backyard.
Immediately bursts out laughing at the thought of you as a worm crawling around with a gun on the battlefield.
“As long as you don’t cheat on me with some other worm lad, I’d still love ya, bonnie.”
x kyle "gaz" garrick
He, like Simon, hits you with one of his side eyes.
He actually thinks about it for a hot minute, though, going through the pros and cons of this hypothetical situation.
“Yeah, pretty much.” He concludes, shrugging as his thoughts return to the mental list of the upsides and downsides of you turning into a worm.
“The biggest pro is that I can protect you easily. The biggest con is that you’re a worm.”
He gets so into this scenario, discussing the matter with you as if it’s forthcoming.
“What about you then? Would you love me if I was a worm?” He returns the question, his mind still wandering. Would you have shelter? How would he feed you? Would he accidentally stomp on you? “Yeah, I would. We can be worms together!” “Word.”
x john price
“Where do you come up with this stuff?”
He rubs his eyes almost urgently, a light groan coming from him as he breathes heavily. He’s trying to act all tough and unbothered, but in reality, he’s melting inside. He thinks your thought process and comfortability with him is adorable.
“I’d have to be extra careful with you, wouldn’t I?”
He runs the scenario in his head, playing it back and skipping forward like a movie. He’s very conflicted. It’s hard to love a worm, but it’s not just any worm - it is you!
“Sure.” He shrugs while his eyes lock in with yours. His face is to die for. He looks so done.
Realistically, he’d keep you in an aquarium full of dirt. It would be in his office so he can keep an eye on you to assure you aren’t doing something absurd, as worms do.
x alejandro vargas
Oh, he’s living for this.
You can’t help but snicker a little when he starts laughing at your question. He’s even smacking his thigh with his hand! It can’t be that funny… it’s a simple question!
He wipes his teary eyes when he can feel his hearty laughter calm down.
“Mi amor, you’re too funny. Yes, I would.”
He’d keep you in his pocket, regularly feeding and petting you. He’d also talk to you constantly, knowing you can’t do anything about it - the thought of it makes him giggle.
“You’re not planning on turning into one, right?”
x phillip graves
“...What?”
He’s so confused. Why are you asking him this?
He rolls his eyes at your expression. Your deviance drives him insane, but it also makes his heart flutter.
He tries avoiding the question, but you keep poking and prodding - it’s safe to say he’s not getting away without an answer.
“You’re driving me crazy, sweetie.” He sighs, shaking his head in exhaustion. You can see the corners of his lips curl up when you cackle at his response.
“It would be difficult, but I’d try. Only because it’s you.”
He would have a hard time originally, but he’d grow to love your worm self. It’s still you, after all.
x könig
“Hm… I suppose I would.”
His eyes narrow when he thinks of you as a worm. He’d fancy it if you don’t turn into a worm, but he’d still absolutely adore you.
“You really would?” “Yes. But wouldn’t that be kind of difficult?” His voice is as soft as ever, which tells you he’s genuine. He doesn’t want to hurt your feelings, and he doesn’t want to lie to you - which is ironic since he’d take the best care of you out of all these men!
He would always keep you on his shoulder and talk to you constantly. You would always be full and entertained, and he would be inclined to pet you regularly.
He would be afraid to hurt you on accident. He’s a big guy! So he would be cautious with you.
You would also be in his hands a lot! He would love holding you.
“But I’d prefer it if you stay like this, schatz.”
x horangi
His head snaps in your direction instantly. His eyebrows furrow unhesitatingly, but he’s soon giggling like a schoolgirl.
“Jagiya… you are crazy.”
He, like Kyle, starts thinking about this as if it’s inevitably cropping up.
“I would. Just don’t slither all over my face.” “I said worm, not a snake, Jin.”
He’d keep you on his helmet/his head most of the time. He would remember to feed you every time he eats, and like Simon, he would try to teach you self-defense. He’s already protective of you, but if you were a worm? He’d be your bodyguard.
“What do worms even eat?” “I don’t know. You’re gonna have to figure that out.” “Wait- don’t tell me you’re turning into one?”
#call of duty#modern warfare 2#cod mw2#cod x reader#call of duty mw2#mw2 x reader#ghost mw2#soap mw2#mw2 price#mw2 gaz#mw2 alejandro#mw2 könig#mw2 konig#mw2 phillip graves#mw2 horangi#mw2 fanfic#ghost x reader#simon ghost riley#simon ghost x reader#simon ghost riley x reader#soap mactavish#john soap mactavish#soap x reader#soap mactavish x reader#price x reader#gaz x reader#kyle gaz garrick#john price#alejandro vargas x reader#könig x reader
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