𝒻𝒶𝓋 𝒻𝒶𝓃𝒹ℴ𝓂𝓈 ‼ my hero academia. haikyuu. mob psycho 100. soul eater. gachiakuta. jujutsu kaisen. blue lock. demon slayer. tokyo revengers. dr. stone. one punch man. dandadan. ouran high school host club. blue eye samurai. alien stage. the amazing digital circus. spider-man: across the spider verse. hazbin hotel. helluva boss. avatar: the last airbender. dcu. stranger things. mcu. law & order: special victims unit. avatar: way of water. arcane: league of legends. call of duty. dispatch. mouthwashing. five nights at freddy's. poppy playtime. squid game. homicipher. sally face. avatar: the last airbender.
TW: intoxicated intercourse with assumed negations of sex or some bs I’m hard and drunk
Your boyfriend, Simon Riley, is drunk again. He doesn’t do it often- only when he’s out with the lads or you buy a couple bottles of wine to share. He’s not like his father, you’d affirmed for him- it’s funny, how his body loosens and his grin widens instead. Maybe like his mother, but Simon never saw her drunk.
But Simon is drunk right now. A sloppy knock on your front door is making you shoot up out of your bed, opening it to see your massive wall of a partner swaying on his feet.
“Hi puppy,” he says, the words slurring and making you flush. His arms are already around you, lifting you off the ground with his weird happy hums. You glance behind him, and see price waving from the car, his other sergeants inside with dopey grins. The scent of alcohol is thick against his breath, letting you know exactly how well the night out went.
“Hi baby- you have a fun night?” You say with a laugh, waving off the car as it pulls out of your driveway. Simon just mumbles, stumbling inside and locking the door behind him as he keeps you in one arm like a stuffed animal more than a grown man.
“Missed you- missed my puppy, good puppy,” he grumbles out, nearly falling over against the couch as you pass it. You pull off his balaclava and toss it, ruffling his shorn hair as you both finally stumble into your bedroom- falling into the mattress with a heavy thump. You manage to land next to Simon rather than under him, though his huge arms squash you against him anyways.
“C’mon, I’m sure it was fun! You haven’t seen them since their last mission, it was good to catch up,” you say sweetly, and there is no envy in it. Clutching your handsome retired man against your chest, thanking the stars it wasn’t him anymore risking his life.
“They ain’t got a wet cunt for me to sink into,” Simon says with a huff, hips rolling against yours and making your breath hitch.
“You’re drunk,” you laugh against him, shifting to sit up- oh. He’s pulling you tight against him, rolling his hips incessantly and not letting you go. Clutching at your back, humping your hip like somethings got him going. It’s cute, like he just can’t seem to help himself- it’s less cute that you remembered his strength like this, but still cute.
“Puppy.. my little.. pup,” he groans, like he’s forgotten everything but the image of your sweet dopey eyes looking up at him like this. So sweet, so happy just looking at his ugly mug- his hips turn from incessant humping to slow grinds. Like he thinks he’s inside you, fucking you closer to the edge. It’s so cute, so sweet- he’s more dog like than you right now.
“Simon, you’re gonna ruin your boxers- c’mon, let me take off your clothes,” you start, but are quickly interrupted by a pitiful whimper and his hips stuttering against yours- ah, too late. He doesn’t stop even as he cums, the pace uneven and pathetic. Nobody would imagine the fearsome Ghost would be like this in retirement- a sweet old mountain of a man cumming in his boxers just because he missed his boyfriend too much at dinner.
“Feel better now?” You ask sweetly, receiving a satisfied chuff from Simon as you finally are released and able to actually pull his clothes off. He’s still hard, cum drenching his boxers- wasn’t whiskey dick supposed to be a thing or something? It looked like alcohol fueled his appetite even more, the drunk fool bucking against your light touch as you scoop some of his spend off his cock.
Sucking it off your finger, letting out a pleased hum. His cum tastes so much better after he’s retired too, full of home cooked meals you make for each other instead of the shitty rations.
“Puppy- please? Just- fuck, just the tip, ‘ll be good,” Simon moans, and you barely are able to keep your grin from spreading across your face.
“Yeah? You promise, you just need to get the tip wet, baby?” You coo, pulling down your own pants just so you can crawl on top of your boyfriend. Simon is lazily nodding his head, eyes hazy like he can’t see straight- so cute, it’s not often he’s out of it like this.
“Mmmmhm. Jus- the tip. Promise, lovie,” the ex lieutenant says haphazardly, still out of breath from his first orgasm. His hands are dragging up and down your sides, squeezing and squishing like he can’t seem to get enough of you- lifting you up with a squeak.
“Simon-!” You scold with a laugh, reaching down to help. Dragging his thick cock through your wet folds, the head bumping deliciously against your own little t dick perfectly. You manage to notch the head against your hole, sinking down with his guidance- free hand tugging on your own cock to help yourself loosen up a bit.
Simon’s hands begin to shake the moment his head sinks into your wet cunt, pitiful grunts escaping his chest. “Fuck- fuck-“ the blonde whimpers, his eyes rolling to the back of his head as he sunk you down to the hilt in one go instead of doing any sort of his original plan.
You keen out, shivering at the delicious stretch he provides before remembering to play up his little game, whining and scratching at his chest. “Simon-! You promised- just the- fuck, you’re so deep!” You moan, but it’s hard to focus too well when you’re being split apart like this.
His hips are unkind, stuttered thrusts lubed up by his first load keeping you happy as you bounce up and down on his fat dick. Simon is not faring well, gasping and twitching with each rise and fall, his legs shaking under you as the man spasms.
“Fuck- puppy! Puppy- my puppy- right? Please- won’t leave me, will you?” The man whimpers, tears dotting his lashes so prettily against his flushed face. God, he was so cute- you leaned down to kiss his face, rolling your hips just the way he loved.
“I’m your puppy, Simon- your dog. ‘M never gonna leave you, never gonna leave this cock either. You know why?” You ask, and he blinks his sweet brown eyes open to try and drunkenly question you.
“Cause you’re- my- good boy-“ your words are broken apart by your boyfriends frantic thrusts, his pelvis squishing your throbbing t dick at this angle and making you squirm and mewl. Simon loved being good, loved being yours- and he loved being your good boy.
Of course, he maybe loved being your good boy a little too much- huge arms squashing you against his chest as his thrusts turn to desperate fucking. Every sharp bottoming out hits your cervix, your body spasming from the delicious pressure. Curling closer, tighter, sharper. You try to say something, to throw off your boyfriend- but it seems he’s too drunk off of the alcohol and your hot cunt to slow down anymore.
He doesn’t even stop when you cum with a sharp whine, just smothering you with his tongue down your throat as his balls slap against your ass. Practically using you like a sex toy, whimpering and moaning your little puppy heart out-
“Fuck- yes, puppy- so wet- ‘m sorry- can’t stop, oh god,” Simon cries, his hips starting to stutter when you cum again with a howl. Thrashing against him this time, your orgasms too close- your own cum splashed against against both your legs as the man finally slams to the hilt one final time and fills you with his cum.
Simon still whimpers as he slowly brings you both down from the edge, giving slow twitchy thrusts until he finally settles to the hilt again, rolling to his side and crushing you against him. You let out a groan of annoyance, but he’s already snoring, like that final orgasm knocked him right the fuck out.
Alpha!Reader comes back from the mission to Omega!141, except they’ve had a revelation.
Reader realized while they were on the mission that maybe they were being just a bit overbearing with the guys. After all, they weren’t used to tapping into their omega instincts so Reader decides to take their comfort down a notch.
They still take care of the 141 after a mission and look over them to make sure they’re okay, but other than that they don’t make too much of a fuss.
Reader insists that they don’t have to have a nest and that they won’t make them do it. The guys can make their own comfort nests out of each others’ clothes, right?
Reader doesn’t make the effort to constantly pump out their woodsy scent to calm everyone down. Besides, it didn’t really help much before anyways.
Overall, Reader is pretty unbothered and has learned to lay off the omegas a little. Meanwhile the 141 is STRUGGLING.
What do you mean they had to go WEEKS without their the alpha and don’t get all their attention as soon as they get back???
Bullshit. Complete and utter bullshit. They want to have Reader’s woodsy scent on the nest that they INSISTED they didn’t need (they do need it).
They want to be doted on and taken care of by the calm alpha plaguing their minds every single waking moment.
But they’re stubborn. So instead the 141 will continue to make small gestures hinting towards the fact that they wanna be cared for, meanwhile Reader just brushes it off.
But the real question is… why is Reader waking up every night to one of their the omegas cuddled up to their side, covered in THEIR blankets and scent?
UNDER THE LONE SUN ➔ yandere! taskforce 141 x male! reader
After leaving your last team and a few years floating around as a solo operative on loan to different units, you wanted to take a nice month-long vacation. Of course, it seems fate has different plans for you.
Following a long chat, a few promises, and begrudgingly packing up your things, you ready yourself to land in the heart of the SAS. You'd heard of the 141 while drifting around, but it was always a passing mention. What are you meant to do when the team actually seems to take a liking to you?
Too much of a liking to you.
"Let me get this straight- You're making me come back from leave early... so you can send me to the fucking U.K.?"
tags ➔ potential cringe, male reader, top male reader, taskforce 141 x male reader, REBOOT taskforce 141, doesn't follow canon AT ALL, like only thing in common is probably the fact they're against Konni operatives, poly141, John "Soap" MacTavish, Kyle "Gaz" Garrick, Simon "Ghost" Riley, Captain John Price, reader can come off as an oc/comes off as an oc, tall + buff male reader because i'm lowkey tired of reading x delicate male reader - no shade just isn't my personal preference, no other features mentioned (hair, eye color, skin tone, etc), established callsign, reader is described as Australian/comes from Australia, mlm content gang, potential (definite) ooc, more potential cringe, sexual innuendos, constant sexual banter, reader can and will call British people poms 🥀, TBA...
Pairing(s): Munch! Simon Riley x ftm reader. Pussy and clit is used in this!
Munch! Simon who needs your pussy at all times. Ever since he'd retired from service, his pent-up desires know no bounds. He craved and needed it, no matter where it happened- even during the night or in a secluded place in public.
Munch! Simon sees you minding your business on the couch, wearing nothing but boxers. Like the flash, he's instantly on his knees and your boxers are lowered to your knees. Your legs were on his shoulder as he buried his head between your thighs.
Munch! Simon has a PhD in pussy eating. Simon lifted his mask to expose his mouth before latching it onto your fuzzy entrance. Your hand held onto the man's mask as he ate you out. His tongue lapped at your folds and flicked your throbbing clit. The thousands of nerves inside the nub lit your body on fire.
Munch! Simon can only groan, sending the vibrations through your body. His eyes roll to the back of his skull as he is drunk on your juices. Simon would also thrust his fingers into your tight heat while toying with your clit. Suckin' on your folds while softly biting your clit. He would leave your body shaking violently as it was too much but it felt so good.
Munch! Simon always makes you cum more than once. It's only right! When he feels your insides spasming around him before he feels the wet sensation on his tongue or fingers; he's already gonna make you have a second one. He's not gonna stop until you squirt for him. Even then, he's gonna continue.
Now, Munch! Simon does eat you out whenever you're having body dysphoria. He pins you down and tells you that you're the hottest and most handsome man he's ever seen! He would praise your body saying that you've gained tons of muscle and that everything is coming along nicely!
Another thing is that Simon loves being sat on. He loves being suffocated by your pussy and juices. Plus size? That doesn't matter, in fact, Simon loves that! He wants to feel your total weight on his face he drowns in your juices. It's his preferred position when he wants to squirt for him.
He swallows every drop like he's a dehydrated man. Simon savors the taste. Now, he's gonna that two more times.
Imagine Jack Abbot doing your testosterone injection…
It doesn’t matter how long you’ve been on testosterone, you’ve always procrastinated doing your shot because stabbing yourself with a needle every week is just straight up annoying. Luckily for you, your boyfriend is a doctor. Who’s more qualified to do your shot than a doctor?
“Jack…” you whine out, looking towards the older man from your cozy spot on the couch.
He doesn’t even bother looking up from his book, simply responding with a “Hm?”
You nudge his outer thigh with your foot, getting him to look at you with a raised eyebrow, “Can you do my t shot for me?”
That certainly grabbed his attention. A cheeky smile creeps across his face as he closes his book, “I thought you’d never ask.”
It didn’t take very long for Jack to grab your shot kit from the bathroom and make his way back to where you were sitting. He sat before you atop the coffee table, putting on a pair of blue nitrile gloves. The snap against his wrist causing an unexpected flutter in your chest.
“Alrighty then,” Jack begins, vial in one hand as the other draws the oily substance into a syringe, “I’m gonna need you to either remove your shirt or lift it above your naval.”
You were quick to comply, raising the hem of your pajama shirt a few inches above your bellybutton. Jack nudged your legs open with his knee so he could get closer to you. He leans in, gently gripping your thigh as he swabs a small section of your stomach with an alcohol pad.
He looked so focused, so professional, it made your face feel hot. He pinched a fatty portion of your stomach between his fingers, easily and quickly penetrating the layers of skin with the thin needle.
Though you’d been on testosterone for a while, the intrusion still caused a small flinch. Jack looked up at you as he slowly pushed down on the plunger.
“Atta boy. Good job, sweetheart,” he praised with a low voice, “taking it so well for me.”
You nearly swatted him, he knew exactly what he was doing saying things like that, “Knock it off, asshole.”
He let out a soft chuckle as he retracted the needle, quickly placing a bandage over the injection site, “Wow, calling me an asshole after I did something so nice for you? How ungrateful.” He tutted with a small shake of his head.
After safely disposing of the needle in your sharps container, Jack pushes the rest of the kit to the side and plops back next to you on the couch. He places a still gloved hand on the injection site, gently massaging it.
“With an attitude like that, you better not expect me to be so helpful when you start getting all needy later,” he teases, using his free hand to pat your inner thigh, “we both know how worked up you get on shot day.”
This is probably really bad and/or boring sorry. I just had thoughts I wanted to share. Wanted to make this smutty but Jesus fuck I don’t have the creativity for that right now. Rip.
Anyways happy pride month to my Jack Abbot fanboys 💕🏳️⚧️
Rated: Mature (sfw I just want to be safe as this contains some heavy shit)
TWs: self hatred in regards to one's transness, heavy angst (happy ending tho), internalized transphobia, referring to past self using she/her, fear of rejection, pre-transition male reader, ftm/AFAB male reader
1.3k words
After the betrayals Simon had faced, it was very clear from the very start of your relationship that communication had to be direct, honest, and to the point. You had been stewing on this for… how long? Weeks? Months? Years? You weren’t sure when it all started, but the pot had boiled over. Maybe you had always known; maybe you hadn’t. That didn’t matter now.
All those societal expectations culminated in one giant realization that the woman who walked down the aisle to marry Simon Riley wasn’t real. She never was.
After the betrayals Simon had faced, it was very clear from the very start of your relationship that communication had to be direct, honest, and to the point. You had been stewing on this for… how long? Weeks? Months? Years? You weren’t sure when it all started, but the pot had boiled over. Maybe you had always known; maybe you hadn’t. That didn’t matter right now.
All those societal expectations culminated in one giant realization that the woman who walked down the aisle to marry Simon Riley wasn’t real. She never was.
The two of you were getting ready to get dinner with the rest of the 141 crew when you just couldn’t take it anymore. “I’m trans.” you blurted, and Simon paused the tying of his boots. “I think I'm a man…. No, I know I’m a man.” He was silent, waiting for you to continue, or at least elaborate on the bomb you just dropped.
“I-I couldn't go another moment without telling you. The guilt was eating me alive, but now you just have to sit with that for the whole dinner without being able to talk about it and that’s unfair, and fuck, I’m sorry, Si.”
He waited until he was sure you were ready for a response, “I– We… can stay home and talk. If you’d like.”
“No,” you said with a bit more force than you had meant, and you winced at your own tone. “It will give us both time to think while surrounded by safe people without forcing ourselves to talk about it.”
He looked back down to finish lacing his boot and you simultaneously wanted to sigh in relief from the redirection of his piercing stare, and scream at him to look back at you.
Simon sensed that silence was best for the moment, so you both allowed yourselves the opportunity to disappear into your own little worlds for the duration of the ride to the restaurant.
You didn’t notice that the car had stopped until you felt his hand on your knee, gently bringing you out of your reverie. You were about to smile when you remembered where you were. What you were.
You cringed away from his touch, and you could see the hurt from behind the face mask he wore. This was for the best. You didn’t deserve soft touches when you had shattered everything. Sure it would hurt him, but he didn’t deserve a broken spouse. Would he call you his ex wife? The man that tricked him? Would he pretend you had never existed? Your thoughts began to stew and fester, forming a knotted tumbleweed that blew back and forth as you ran helplessly after it.
“Love,” he said, careful not to refer to you by name. He was unsure what things were okay and he just needed someone to tell him that they would be. You needed someone to tell you they would be.
Instead, he settled for a request; something he did not often make. “If we leave this car, you have to promise that we are going to talk the minute we return to it. You don't have to explain everything, but we need to work through the fear that is clearly fogging your mind right now.”
He wasn’t even talking about his own doubts; what it meant about him. You wished he could be as selfish as you were. He deserved to be selfish after the life he had lived, and yet here you were, the person meant to help get him through it all; the reason everything was crumbling.
You swallowed the bile threatening its way up your throat and nodded.
“Love, I need you to promise.”
“I… I promise.”
“Good.”
—
Dinner was torturous for the both of you; each watching the other and envying the fun they appeared to be having while also knowing it was all for show. You couldn’t decide on the way back to the car whether to drag your feet or sprint and get it all over with. Just like your relationship was about to be.
When the doors closed Simon took a large sigh. You both spoke at once:
“Simon, I–”
“I don’t–”
You paused, expecting him to demand your confession. He surprised you by not allowing you the first word.
“I can’t say I completely understand what’s going on, because all I have to go on are two sentences said as we were already out the door, but I have a few things to say, and I need you to let me.”
You winced at his calculating tone and choice of words, far different to the softness he normally held with you. Used to.
He tapped your leg and gestured to the back seat. It would be much easier to talk back there. Once you were both situated, you nodded for him to continue.
“I have come a long way over the last couple of years in terms of my understanding of identity, and I have you to thank for that.” He attempted a smile, “I might not get it at first and fuck up, ‘cause I’m not very educated in this specific thing, but I want to be. I want to figure this out. I want to figure you out. I want you to be okay.”
His words poured over your heart like molten honey; sweet, but burning.
“Your go.”
How were you supposed to explain to the man that you loved more than anything in the world that he didn’t have a wife anymore? How were you supposed to break it to him that he never had a wife and he had been married to a man without his knowledge for years? He wasn’t gay. Sure, he supported your queerness, but supporting, and even dating someone that wasn’t straight was very different than being open to it yourself.
“I don't think you understand, Si. I'm not a woman, not even a little.”
He flashed you a wry smile, “Yeah, I gathered that, luv.”
You almost smiled back. “I can't be your wife anymore, Simon. I can’t be anyone’s wife. Hell, I never was your wife. You’re not gay, so how do you expect this to work? It can’t.”
His hands gently rested on your checks and directed you to look at him. You couldn’t.
“Sweetheart, look at me.”
You mustered a glance and he continued, “Do you understand how hard it was for me to leave our apartment? Our car? Hell, sitting across from you, unable to hold you and tell you I wasn’t going to run the first chance I got was torture.
“You have taught me a lot of things. How it’s not ‘soft’ to put sugar in my tea, or ‘weak’ to admit to the pain on days with flare ups. You have stuck with me through everything; failing at getting sober from alcohol countless times before I succeeded, learning to work past the idea that everyone and everything is out to get me, and forcing it down my throat that no matter what I think, I deserve your love. Can’t you let me give you the same?”
You felt the tears prick behind your eyes, “Si…”
“If your main concern is whether or not staying with you would make me gay, I suggest you rethink my priorities. I don’t give a shit what our titles are, as long as I get to have you. Hell, if you change your name, I’ll marry you again so we can share it.”
You finally let most of your worries slide off your shoulders and the tears came. Fear. Relief. Uncertainty. Adoration.
Simon finally got to wrap you in an embrace and hold you until the tears slowed.
You let out a shaky breath accompanied by a half hearted laugh, “Fuck…”
He hummed, “About what you said earlier regarding not being able to be anyone’s wife.” His eyes shone with humor, “You’re not allowed to be anyone else’s husband either.”
never written for a trans masc reader before so please tell me if I did ok or not lol
this should tide yall over while midterms have me in a chokehold. I swear I will start working on asks once I actually have time to write again
Messaging people for the first time is so hard. What am I supposed to say? Like, "You seem really odd and your blog intrigues me. Do you want to have philosophical conversations or perhaps talk about fictional characters?" What! Whatever. I will just follow you back and stare at your blog with my big beautiful brown eyes.
Reblog if you're okay with people coming into your DMs with the "you seem really odd and your blog intrigues me, do you want to have philosophical conversations or perhaps talk about fictional characters"
im sorry but i giggle maniacally every single time someone writes simon saying “wot?” instead of “what”
i know that its to sort of translate his accent but every writer ive seen do it always does it in the most funniest way possible i just can’t help but giggle.
it doesn’t help that every time i see it i also imagine him looking like the surprised pikachu meme
You’re on the phone with your boyfriend, discussing plans for the evening while you dodge the masses of people walking past you in the afternoon rush.
“Okay, I’m almost at the metro, we should probably hang up before the signal cuts,” you tell him, looking over your shoulder before crossing the bike lane. “See you soon!”
“See you soon. Love you,” he said, hurriedly like it would mix into the static noise of the phone call but reach your heart all the same.
“Huh?” you said, raising your voice to indicate you hadn’t heard him.
“I said I love you,” he repeated bashfully, frowning at the poster on his wall.
“Ha ha!” you chanted, making some people turn to you, startled, before continuing in the direction they were going.
“Eh?”
“Made you say it twice, heard you the first time, love you, mwah!”
“Wh-“ Then you hung up with an evil little laugh.
Wearing a wide grin, which probably made you look like an aspiring psychopath, you skipped down the stairs to the metro, excited to see your boyfriend, who loves you x 2.
Tsukishima, Hoshiumi, Suna, Kenma, Osamu, Daishou, Kunimi, Iwaizumi, Kyotani, Sakusa, anyone you want it to be<3
masterlist
inspired by a conversation I had with @cottonlemonade<3
