Guys, please brainrot in my inbox. Maybe not fic requests but just like tell me your thoughts and headcanons and stuff and I may drop some x reader blurbs as a treat <3
TVSTRANGERTHINGS
Stranger Things

tannertan36
almost home
occasionally subtle

PR's Tumblrdome
NASA
Cosimo Galluzzi
Monterey Bay Aquarium
AnasAbdin

if i look back, i am lost
we're not kids anymore.
Aqua Utopia|海の底で記憶を紡ぐ

Love Begins
Three Goblin Art
styofa doing anything
ojovivo

izzy's playlists!
Peter Solarz

#extradirty

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@mausinly
Guys, please brainrot in my inbox. Maybe not fic requests but just like tell me your thoughts and headcanons and stuff and I may drop some x reader blurbs as a treat <3
cod men with fussy wives
cw. fluff, innuendo, cunnilingus, lovemaking, reader is a bit insufferable but she means well. SMUT
synopsis. price, simon and johnny with very naggy wives who show them love and care they've never experienced before
kinktober | cod masterlist | navigation | masterlist
john price
john is the typical gruff, stern guy who knows when to be serious, calm, or regulated, but around his wife, all he is is soft. he spends all day gritting his teeth during combat, pushing through with wounds the size of golf balls and scolding recruits when they fuck up, and so when he's on leave for a few days to see you, all he wants to do is relax, make love to you, eat your cooking, and maybe go fishing or do some home renovations. you, however, have a different plan. you're on his ass the second he gets home. not that he minds too much. you're too beautiful to be annoyed at.
he's sitting on the couch trying to eat a biscuit, and you gently pry it out of his hands mid bite. "john, did you take your omega-3s today?"
he signs, hand grazing your hip as you stand in front of him. "no, love. not today. but i used that nicotine patch you told me to use to help with the smokin'."
your eyes light up. "you're using them, darling?"
his heart thuds pridefully at your reaction, like it usually does when you call him darling in that dreamy little tone of voice.
"wore 'em everyday for ya, m'love," he murmurs, reaching for your hips so he can tug you gently to stand between his knees. "damn if i don't like a good smoke, but i like my woman's happiness a little more."
you giggle, nuzzling your nose into his hair, relishing in the pleasant, clean scent. "just a little?"
he laughs, bringing you into a sitting position on his knee. "a lot, love. y'said it's no good for m'lungs, and i wanna be around long enough to see our grandbabies. can't have that if 'm coughin' up ash everyday."
your lip wobbles. "oh john," you coo, lacing you arms around his neck tightly. you're so proud of him that you feel your eyes start to well up. you nuzzle your face into his neck to hide the way you're getting so emotional. you're so proud of him. "there there..." he bounces you in his lap a little to soothe you. "you're the sweetest lil' thing, aren't ya? takin' care of me so good. wouldn't know what to do without you."
you sniffle and snuggle into him so tight that you're nearly suffocating.
he tries to act like the fussing annoys him most times, but really, he relishes in it. he rarely smokes unless he's very stressed and isn't a heavy drinker. after all, you told him, "don't drink if you're looking for an escape from your problems, m'kay? 's what i'm here for."
his health's never been better.
what happens if he doesn't wanna be nagged one particular day?
he's been on edge all morning. one of the younger dogs knocked the sheep pen open early this morning and let half a dozen of them loose, and price has been running around like his head's on fire trying to corral them back inside and soothe the other distressed sheep. he just got back in all sweaty and stressed, drinking a large mug of coffee. then a second. third. on the fourth, you stepped in, suggesting that he might wanna slow down, and he snapped. "god's sake woman, d'you ever let up? i don't need a bloody nanny all the time. enough with the naggin' "
you shut up immediately, drawing your hand back with your brows scrunched.
slowly, you stop asking about his vitamins. stop shoveling extra greens on his plate. stop massaging rosemary oil into his hair at night. you stop. it's relieving for about fifteen minutes. then, he's disturbed. the silence brings him no peace whatsoever. he lasts until the evening of the same day, and he corners you while you're making dinner, hugging you from behind. "darlin'," he murmurs into your ear, mouthing at the lobe.
no answer. he huffs, dragging you against him and pressing soft, open mouthed kisses down your ear, along your jaw, to your throat, where he licks a broad stripe back up to your sweet spot. "c'mon darlin', 'm sorry. you know i get heated fast, hm?" his big hands travel along your body, his left now splaying on your breast, and the right squeezing your hip. "just had a terrible morning, nearly lost our sheep, had to run around like an idiot for an hour... 'n i lost my cool with you. 's not okay, i know."
"hate it when you raise your voice at me, john." you say softly, and his heart just about breaks. he didn't mean to, really. he loves when you're bossy with him. it shows you care and it's incredibly sexy. he'd just been very irate this particular morning. he's been with you years and hasn't complained seriously about the nagging ever, and he's not about to start now.
he squeezes your tit in his palm and kisses your cheek. "i know beautiful, i know. i love you s'much, hm? gonna make it up to you..."
he's on his knees behind you soon after, eating your pussy under your dress while you try to cook. his tongue laps at your soaked hole, causing his beard to get soaked with your juices. the thick hair scratches pleasantly against your folds while the spoon you're holding clatters onto the counter, your eyes fluttering shut and hands scrabbling forwards for something to hold - you settle on the heavy stand mixer ahead of you.
he's apologizing with a mouthful of your pussy, hands squeezing your ass and giving your thighs a little pinch any time you try to close 'em.
" 'm sorry. need you fussin', darling, alright? don't ever stop." your breath hilts each time his tongue drags upwards and flattens over your clit. his nose keeps nudging your ass because his big hands keep you spread wide for him.
you sway a little, thighs trembling with the overwhelming amount of pleasure he's inflicting on you, but all he does is grunt and pull you back against his face harder. "this what it takes t'get you talkin' to me again?" he rasps against your cunt. "fine, i'll eat this sweet fuckin’ pussy 'til you forgive me."
you gasp when he sucks on your clit and tips you forward so you're fully presented for him, tongue fucking in and out of your sloppy hole. the food you were tying to make is long forgotten at this point, but he doesn't care at all. all he wants to stuff his face with anyway is your sloppy cunt.
"john, mmh!" you cry out, thighs clamping around his head, but he smacks your ass hard and shoves your thighs wide once more.
"no, no, you'll take it," he grunts. "this is my apology, yeah? let me make it right an' show you how much i love your fussin'. "
you cream onto his face with a loud whine. grinding against his chin and into his mouth, and even then, he continues for a second round, mouthing at your folds and mumbling, "couple more, wife. apology's not done."
johnny mactavish
johnny's a firecracker and a wildcard. he lives on the edge and likes the unknown that comes with being reckless and unprepared. but when he met, dated, and then married you, he did have to learn to exert some degree of control over himself and his life, because damn you're a very meticulous, bossy little thing. not that he minds. having his woman fuss over him and baby him and give him extra special treatment all day, every day doesn't really feel punishing. your fussing is basically foreplay for him.
you'll tell him, "johnny, you're not going on a run with a level 6 UV outside with no sunscreen on. cmere so i can put it all on you."
"...whatever tha' means."
you frown. "johnny, you're not funny. a level 6 is dangerous. cancerous without protection."
he chuckles. "you just want an excuse to rub y'lil hands all over me, ain' that right?"
"johnny!"
you literally have to tackle him onto the living room floor sometimes to rub sunscreen on his face, because he keeps dodging you and laughing. squirming like a kid while you try to get his ears and nose. "you won't wanna shag me if i've got white goo all over m'cheeks, lass, 'm not havin' it."
"you'll thank me when you don't have skin cancer in twenty years," you huff, massaging the liquid into his cheeks while you straddle him. it's the only way he'll ever sit still anyway. his hands reach up to paw at your hips, and he tilts his head, smiling up at you.
"y'look s'cute on top o' me, don't ya?" he coos, giving your ass a playful slap. you roll you eyes and squeeze his cheek in retaliation, and he laughs and continues. "do y'love me more now that i've been properly slathered?" he teases, raising his brows as you finish rubbing in the last bit of cream.
you kiss his forehead. "only a little."
he smiles. "hm. maybe i should scald myself in the sun so you can love me up more."
"johnny."
"…right, right. responsible. m'havin' a growth arc for m'wife,"
"are you?"
"…no. but m'health has improved dramatically since y'started bullyin' me into slatherin' my skin twice a day."
you lean in so your lips brush his "that's cause i want you around forever, dummy."
johnny smiles softer at your words, tugging you down so your forehead rests on his and his beefy arms wrap around you. "i know," he hums, kissing your lips softly. " 'm not goin' anywhere, bonnie. not if i can help it."
what happens if he doesn't wanna be nagged one particular day?
he'd got home only yesterday from being deployed for several weeks. he hadn't seen his loving wife in ages, and the distance didn't do to well on him mentally. he's really not in the mood for fussing. he just needs to eat, fill you up with his cum a few times tonight, and go to bed.
you, however, had been nagging him the minute he came home. needing a breather, he offered to go grab groceries and run errands, hoping that the little break would help him cool off so he didn't snap at you. he's never raised his voice at you, and he doesn't plan on it today.
but when he got back with a dark bottle of bourbon...
"baby? did you only offer to go so you could buy that nonsense? i told you i hate when you drink-"
he interrupts you. "for fuck's sake, can I breathe without you hoverin'? you're not my mum."
you glare at him. not the sweet glare when you're admiring him, or the shy one, or the deadpan one when he does something dumb and you pretend to be mad at him, the angry wife one. oh, he is not a big fan of this look.
weirdly, though, instead of telling him how rude that was and that he knows you're just trying to look out for him, you turn and walk away in an eerie, icy silence. fuck, this isn't good. "bonnie, c'mon. i didnae mean that. c'mere,"
you swat his hand away lightly, deciding you won't be "mothering" him anymore. and so in the following days, you don't tell him to put on sunscreen. you don't pout when he only sleeps four hours. you barely touch him or look at him.
he tries to charm you at first, knowing how much of a sucker you are for his flirting and pretty words, but it doesn't work this time. you don't bite or get on his case or boss him in the way that makes him hard as hell. no shoving his chest when he gets too close or mewling "johnny please," when he teases you. none of it.
you've been eerily polite, and it's driving him mental. on the second day of this, he tries to nuzzle into your neck while you're folding laundry, whispering, "miss you s'much baby, 'm gonna make it up to you properly tonight."
you pull away and hand him rolled up socks. "drawer." he watches you for a moment, hands slack by his sides, socks limp in his grip.
you're distant. johnny's not good with distance from you. the next day, he's extremely restless, wandering around you like a lost puppy in only a pair of sweats sitting low on his hips, hoping you'll come put that greasy spf you always fuss about all over him. he even lies out on the balcony chair for a full twenty minutes in the sun just to bait you, but you give him nothing. you do spare him a glance periodically through the glass door, but you say nothing. he ends up with a sunburn on his chest and the bridge of his nose.
that night, when you dont wiggle into his chest like normal or ask if he had a vitamin after he ate dinner, he turns to his side to face you, needing to put an end to your stonewalling. "bon."
you hum. he can't tell if it's acknowledgement or just the sound you make when you're falling asleep.
"c'mon," he murmurs, wrapping his arms around you and tugging you into his chest. "i wasn't nice to you, i know that. didn' mean to be a dick. just been so stressed 'n on edge 'n i spoke outta turn."
while you're deciding whether or not to believe him, he gets closer, forehead nudging yours. "i'll pour the bourbon down the sink tomorrow," he says quietly. "swear it."
your fingers toy with the hem of his sleep shirt. it's the first time in days you've touched him without pushing him away. "you can drink if you want to." you murmur, twisting the fabric in your hands. " 'm sorry if i'm being overbearing."
"y'not, baby." he kisses your cheek. "just wanna do whatever makes you happy. you're the boss, aren't you?"
you wake up the next morning with his head between your legs, slow and steady, taking his time kissing down your body, from your tummy, to your hip, down to your inner thigh, and then your tender core.
his big palms wrap around the backs of your thighs and pull them over his shoulders, locking you in place while his mouth sucks and works at your pussy. he's so focused that he's making pleased little groans, crotch rutting absentmindedly against the mattress. he's grateful to have you back in his arms and your pussy, dripping and sweet as nectar, accessible to him once more, but he needs to make you cum to really feel forgiven.
he's slow and paced, kissing on you like he's starved. the slow drag of his tongue through your folds and the way his lips close over your clit and suck just softly enough to make your thighs tremble is euphoric, and you find yourself blanking on why you were mad at him to begin with.
his arms are wrapped around your thighs so firm you can barely move. and every time you try to squirm, he groans low and pulls you right back down, nose buried, face flushed and mouth messy. you can feel his beard brushing you, scratchy and warm, and your fingers automatically slide into his hair. "that's it, baby," he mumbles between pussy kisses. "lemme say sorry proper."
you whimper, back arching when he flattens his tongue against your clit and gives it a slow, firm swirl. he just groans again with enjoyment when you close your thighs around his head. he loves being smothered. he doesn't even care if he breathes, as long as you're happy and in love with him. when your pleasure crests and you cum on his face, he licks at your folds firmer, dragging that orgasm out of you. he keeps his mouth on you, gentler now. just soft licks and little kisses, tongue soothing over your puffy folds while his big hands rub slow circles into your thighs.
he doesn't stop until your hand in his hair goes limp. you sigh, letting him kiss back up your body to give you a little break before he goes back for more. he rests on your chest, nuzzling into your flesh gently. "you're forgiven, johnny." you huff, a little tired.
he grins, mouth still wet, eyes gleaming with relief. "thank fuck. boss me all you want, love. swear it gets me hard, anyway."
simon riley
simon riley is commanding. he’s the most domineering presence in any room he walks in. makes the greatest of men lower their gaze when he approaches. he's taken down large enemy groups all on his own, has killed men with his bare hands, and… he comes home to you telling him "you can't eat that, baby. it's got monosodium glutamate in it. that makes you sick, remember?" and listens every time.
"…right," he'll say after a pause. "forgot abou' that. what d’you want me to eat then?"
he'd drop the bag of crisps he picked up on his way home with the god forsaken MSG in it the second you mentioned it and would nod. "mm. wouldn' wan' to spoil my dinner anyway, right love?" while gently taking you into his arms and pressing his lips to yours.
you're not controlling, either. the fussing is very particular. typically just a soft, offhand reminder from the only person in the world who really knows and prioritizes him before anything else. you love him so much and this is part of the way you show it. how could he complain?
you know everything about him, which is huge, considering he is a man of few words and is dreadful at being vulnerable. you know what wrecks his stomach, what gives him headaches, how he gets irritable and loopy when he doesn't sleep at least six hours in the night. you know his favorite clothing fabric and how he just wants to hold you when he's upset.
your voice is so warm and quietly certain that he has to listen every time. once you advise him not to do something, everything in him short circuits. his brute force logic disappears. because you say no, or "you shouldn't si, take this instead," and it's a done deal.
you don't even realize what it does to him, how something as simple as your concern twists itself into a soft knot in his stomach, how it makes him ache, not because you're bossing him, but because you're taking car and watching over him in a way no one else does.
he often glares at you and raises a brow ever so slightly at the way you, a tiny thing with big, expressive eyes and pouty lips just told a tank of a man what to do and expected him to listen.
he does though. listens to your bossy ass every time. and for all his stoicism, the man melts under your fussing.
he's in the shower with you brought that annoying cleanser you insist he needs to use every night and wash it off after thirty seconds because he's got sensitive skin.
"love. this shit's greasy."
"it's hydrating, si. good for your skin. protects the barrier."
"don't wan' hydrating."
you rub into his cheekbones anyway while his eyes are locked on you and his breath comes out slow and heavy. you're standing between his legs in the steam, having him lower his head slightly so you can reach your hands into his short hair once you've finished with the cleanser. you're squinting up at him, so serious as you massage something into his scalp like you're not both bare, soaked, and pressed up against each other.
simon has both massive hands holding your waist while he backs you into a corner of the shower, letting you fuss about exfoliants and scalp health with your tits smushed against his body and your eyes fixed on his face and not his cock nudging against your body, aching and swollen from the sight of you. he's trying to focus but he's so distracted by your body, the way you smell, and how soft you are in his hands.
you tilt your head up, rub a little cream into his hair, mumbling, "gotta keep your scalp health up to par, si", and he loses it.
simon grabs your face in both hands and pushes his mouth against yours, catching you off guard. you squeak into his mouth, and he groans and takes the opportunity to slide his tongue into your mouth, water pouring down both of you, beard scratchy on your chin.
"god," he mutters hoarsely between kisses, "you fuss over me like I’m your bloody housepet."
you let out another noise in his mouth, not knowing if that means he hates it or not, but he nips your lower lip, trails his lips along your jaw and up to your ear. " 's a good thing, love. don't pout."
you moan softly, tilting your head to give him more access to your neck and jaw. the reassurance felt great, and you find yourself melting into his touch.
" 'm gonna fuck you," he mutters, voice cracked with need, hand already sliding down your back to grip your ass. "righ' now. can't take it anymore." you look up through your lashes, lashes wet, lip caught in your teeth.
"but you still have conditioner in," you stare up at him coyly.
"finish after. s'not like 'm goin' anywhere."
what happens if he doesn't wanna be nagged one particular day?
simon didn't mean to snap at you. the harsh tone came out by itself. it's just that he's so tired and sore, joints in his body stiff with exhaustion. all he needs is a breather for five minutes, but you're there by the kitchen counter when he gets home. "hi baby! why don't you start with some of the stir fry i made! dunno if drinking black tea on an empty stomach is the best idea."
normally, he'd melt for your nagging and let you tug the tea bag and mug out of his hands and shove a plate of the lunch you made and a cup of water in his hands instead, and then kiss you stupid for giving a shit, but today, he bristles.
"jesus christ, can i just eat what i want for once?" his voice comes out sharp and cold in a tone he's never used on you before.
you blink, lips parting as you stand frozen in place with the wooden spoon you were using to cook laying limply in your hand. your mouth opens and then closes, and you give him a faint little nod and turn away.
he immediately notices your silence. you're never silent like this, so when you give him a faint little nod and walk off, he knows he screwed up bad. he stews on his stupidity for hours, up until you're laying in bed beside him and not once have you reminded him to put on that charcoal mask you always insist "draws out toxins."
you're just sitting beside him. not even sulking, just indifferent. you know what you're doing, of course. and it's working. he stares at the ceiling for a while, grinding his molars, heart pounding in his chest. he clears his throat in hopes of getting your attention and fails.
"not g'na remind me about the mask tonight?"
you flip a page. "no. thought you didn't want to be nagged."
he winces.
"didn’ mean it like that, sweetheart."
"right." you're still not looking at him or touching him.
he can't survive without your fussing much longer. he doesn't have your eyes on him or your little giggles or your hands all over him and sweet night routines and it's making him crazy.
he sits up and breathes in deeply, before reaching for you quietly. you glance over with confusion just as he peels your book out of your hands. "what are you..?"
he's already tugging you across the bed, laying you down on the bed before peeling off your clothes. "simon! wh-what are you doing?" you glare up at him with confusion, squirming under him as he shimmies your panties down your legs and tossing it to the floor.
"apologizin' to m'wife."
he scoops you up and places you on his face with no warning, your pussy lined up with his mouth. he holds you there, palms spread over your ass, fingers sinking into your soft flesh, before diving in.
he groans like a starved man the second he licks into you. his tongue is slow at first, sliding between your folds, and lapping at your soft, juicy pussy. you're still half mad but you can't stop the way your head tips back as he sucks your clit into his mouth and holds it there. you squeal, bucking your hips to try and get away from the overwhelming amount of pleasure, but he doesn't let up, tilting you hips up a little so he can slip his tongue into your soaked hole.
he tongues your entrance and licks you open messily, making you squirm into his mouth. you pull at his hair and try to lift yourself off, whining. "s-simon... s'too much..!"
he slaps your ass. "you don't get to leave me like that, love. won't let you be mad at me."
The fruit you are to them
Simon sees you as a blackberry. Sweet, tart, and a little complicated. There’s something about getting a blackberry seed nestled in the bed of your molars and grinding down until you taste the bitter oil alongside all that sweetness.
Price sees you as a pomegranate. His to crack open, spread out, stain his fingers. To pluck carefully. A pomegranate isn’t a fruit for the impatient— it’s for those who have time, patience, and aren’t afraid to get a little messy.
You’re Soap’s peach, of course. Ripe, summery, fuzz in all the right places, and sure to have juice dripping down his fingers and chin. Not to mention that seam— the perfect place to drag the tip of his tongue.
Gaz thinks of you as an apple. There are so many types of apples, all with different looks and different tastes, but when you find the one you like? It always makes you so happy to see it. Sweet, dependable, and makes such a perfect pairing with so many things. But they’re not delicate— an apple can come on adventures, too. He’d keep you like a honey crisp in his jacket pocket if he could.
You’re Nikolai’s pear. Regarded as troublesome by some and rarely praised— too soft, too easy to bruise and mar, not fit for travel. But Nikolai loves the flavor, the texture, the way that plump bottom sits in the curve of his palm… He happens to think it’s worth a bit of trouble— that a fruit which shows fingerprints is the only kind worth eating.
Bonus:
König sees you as his strawberry. He could just about have you on anything— the same way there’s strawberry cake, yogurt, ice cream, candy, syrup, cereal, trail mix. You could be in every little morsel of his life and he’d be delighted every time.
„...You know better, babe, you know better, babe Than to hold me just, hold me just like that...”
You cannot tame the mane.
Wouldn't that be overkill for a tumblr?
on my hands and knees begging for more cowboy logan crumbs.........................
"Cummon baby," Logan murmurs, his face buried against your neck and your hands gripping his biceps. You can feel the flex of his muscle with each thrust of his fingers into your cunt, your pussy fluttering around the thick digits in an attempt to - fuck you don't know, keep them inside? Get them to stop thrusting so hard against that sopping spot inside you? You so rarely get to hear his voice, the deep throaty sound of it reserved only for you, you don't want to miss it. But you can't help eclipsing it with your cries, the pointed jabs of his fingers, so quick and precise, make you wail. You're sure you'd wake the whole house if Hesh hadn't found a reason to go into town this morning. "Cummon," He begs, "come on my fingers mama."
Your eyes roll, your spine snapping taught. All the wet heat in your core breaks and shudders through your muscles. Your pussy clenches so tight around his fingers you worry it'll break them, but they just keep thrusting into you. The wet squelching of your orgasm fills the room, aches in your worn out cunt. It's bad enough you can hear how wet you are, but you can feel it coating your thighs too. You can feel Logan's lips against your neck, desperate and panting as he fumbles with the fly of his jeans before shoving them and his boxers down. You glance to see where the fabric has been hooked under his balls, just in time to watch the fat head disappear into your loosened cunt.
"Like when I call you that?" He licks a strip from your pulse to your ear, "Like the idea of makin' me a daddy?" You shake your head. God it burns when he pushes into you, fat all the way down to the base, you can feel the veins dragging against your walls. You hitch your legs around his waist, feel his wet fingers helping you, pressing one of your knees towards your chest. "Fuck I can't help it," He breathes, "make me want more of you," His teeth scrape your earlobe, "make me greedy."
"Chatty too," You whine, and he hums. You can feel the curve of his smile against your cheek.
"Like you ain't screamin' for me." He chuckles, leaning back to thrust into you hard enough you see stars.
i love an "oh fuck" moment during smut.
picturing simon stopping his thrusts momentarily to hook his arms under your knees and press you open wider, using more of that hulking weight to bully his cock deeper into your weeping cunt.
it was already toe-curling, already mind-numbing and delicious but this new position and how absolutely soaked you are allows him to sink impossibly deeper. it's like lightning shooting through your entire body when he gives an experimental thrust, your eyes shooting open before rolling back into your skull as his cockhead rubs against some previously undiscovered sweet spot. it hurts, but in the best way possible; the pressure sensitive in a way you've never felt before.
"oh f-fuck.." you can barely gasp out, your hand reaching down to press against his pelvis. to stop him or urge him further, you don't know, but simon simply continues the slow roll of his hips, satisfied grumbles leaving him as he watches you grapple with the newfound sensation. "'s so deep..." you sob through clenched teeth and furrowed brows, and simon swears you've never looked more beautiful, taking his cock like the angel you are. like you were made for it.
that's when he really picks up the pace, hips slamming against your own, and you're making sounds you've never made before. it makes simon feral, the need to draw more of those unabashed sounds bone deep. it isn't long before you're cumming with a shriek of his name, and you don't even register the gush of liquid that comes with it. you don't register the gleam in simon's eye either as he leans down to press his lips to your ear, huffing out his praises all while never stopping the movement of his hips.
"sweet girl," he rumbles, suppressing a shiver when you keen in response, your orgasm having turned your brain to mush. "give me another."
you're in for a long night.
My body shuddered a total of three times reading this. God I need this so fucking bad!!
John Mactavish lactation kink send tweet
I just know Simon "I hate my dad" Riley was standing in a crust bar bathroom at 3am piercing his ears with a thumbtack at 15, sitting on a milk crate letting some goth chick pierce his tongue, standing in line at the market and picking up a random earring to force through his cartilage just to feel something.
Poor man forced to lose all his piercings when he joined the military, but he's still got the scars to prove they were there.
Alright here's some Cowboy Ghoul Omegaverse for you featuring Soap being the menace he is. Reminder that I have Soap as a Beta on the Alpha end of the spectrum, and his darling as a Beta leaning to the omega end of the spectrum. Also that Ruts/Heats don't make people sex crazed, that's just Soap.
ALSO ALSO: sub!Johnny :)
This is just Regency!Ghost eating pussy... another aggressively typed piece from midnight that I fell asleep immediately after writing... When are these two gonna get married so they can fuck properly?
You barely have time to pull your skirts up as Simon falls to his knees, pushing you bodily back against the closed door as his arms wrap around your thighs to spread your legs. He makes room for himself, makes you accommodate his large frame. His head tips, eyes lidding as he stars at the space between your legs. He pulls his mask down, his lips already parting as his tongue teases between his teeth in anticipation of your taste. The black fabric bunches around his neck as his fingers leave it to dig into your plush thigh. Getting him between your legs isn't the problem, getting him out from between them is.
Terribly tempting though. Awfully tempting to see him on his knees; to see him so sincerely hungry for you. You swallow down your trepidation, raise your skirt higher for him, and feel him rock that much closer as you reveal more bare skin and soft sticky wetness. Simon's breathing is shallow, his chest heaving with each inhale, gulping down air like each breath might be his last. It might be with the way he attaches his lips to you.
He's so nice, starts so gently with you, kissing your slit like it's something precious to him. Lips press to your folds with a reverence you haven't even seen in church pews, pulling away only to press to another few centimeters of skin. He takes his time with you, thanking you for the blessing of your cunt, paying homage to every millimeter of worshipful skin. Heat throbs through the little bundle of nerves at the top of your slit, your cunt fluttering under his gentle ministrations. His tongue darts out to lick you, one long swipe that dips between your folds and laps at the slick dripping from you. It leaves him groaning. You tip your head back against the door and push your hand to your mouth in an attempt to stifle the whine that forces its way up your throat. It's a pathetic, needy, thing that makes Simon go back to his chaste kisses.
"So pretty for me," He tells you, his voice graveled and rough. You're beginning to wonder if swallowing down the wetness that flows from you like a faucet for him has some sort of negative effect on his voice. It never sounds worse than when he's between your legs, never sounds rougher, never makes your skin prickle with quite the same heat. He kisses your cunt, his lips parting to breathe a shaky exhale over your skin. He swallows, and opens again to scrape his teeth against you. Your hips jump into the feeling, his brows furrowing and his eyes fixed on the mess he's making.
"Cunt's gonna kill me," He rumbles, his cheeks flushed and his tongue swiping to drag the lingering wetness off his lips, "I can't wait." His mouth fixes itself to you and you keen into your hand at the hard suck to your clit before he starts to eat you in earnest. Your stomach twists tight, your pussy warm from the heat of his mouth and the heady drag of his tongue. You can't stop the soft breathy moans that drip from your lips, your clit still tingly and desperate for attention when he leaves it to swirl his tongue around your opening. You're halfway to grinding your hips against his face when he presses a finger into you.
You feel the burn of friction and stretch, the slow drag of his finger tugging at the soft muscle and exploring the fluttering walls of your cunt. His eyes meet yours, his lashes sweeping against his ruddy cheeks with each slow blink. Simon's tongue rolls over your clit, he lets you see it, lets you watch the way he moves as he laps at you. You feel like you must be pouting, your brows drawing together with want at each sinful pump of his finger. Your body responds to him even when you can't put the words to what you want, clenching around the digit to try and keep it inside. You feel so terribly... empty. It takes too little time before the stretch isn't enough, too little time before that delicious burn has evened out into a thrumming heat.
You press your hand harder against your lips to stop from begging for more. You have to be content with what he gives you. Canting your hips in a silent plea until he fills you with a second finger. The way he shifts his attention, his teeth scraping your clit as his fingers jab something tight and wet inside you. You press up on your toes, trying to get away from the feeling even when your hips push into it. He's relentless, quick and dirty, with his fingers. Your legs shake from the effort of holding yourself up, your stomach jumping and swirling with molten heat as he twists and fucks his fingers into you.
Simon holds his tongue out, lets you grind your clit against it while he works you with his fingers. You're too desperate to care for the propriety of it, eagerly moving your hips to try and push yourself over the tight edge you feel poised on.
"Simon," you whine, taking the chance on talking. You're quick to press your hand back where it was when he jabs his fingers against your sweet spot again and again. His pace is relentless, so fast you don't have the time to think of anything but the tight twisting heat that rips through you.
"That's it love," Simon encourages, turning to kiss your thigh, "say my name."
You don't get the chance to, your breath catching in your throat as every muscle in your body locks in place and you feel something warm and liquid drip from you. Simon groans low, knowing, and kisses your stomach, still pumping his fingers into you. When you can get your lashes to stop fluttering at the electric feeling of his fingers dragging over your sensitive walls, you glance down at him. He's got droplets of, well you assume it's from you, all over his shirt and jacket. He pulls his fingers from of you and drags them over his waiting tongue.
His eyes burn into you, making sure you're watching as he sucks them clean. As if he can't get enough of your taste.
'Til Death (Remember Me in Your Will)
Rating: Mature (Minors Do Not Interact) Words: 3.7k Tags: David "Hesh" Walker/F!Reader, Sugar Daddy au, Dom/sub undertones, flirting Summary: You start dating Hesh as a way to supliment your income. It's not like you've never sugared before, you know how to play this game. It's just too bad Hesh seems to have his own ideas about what this relationship is. Next Chapter > ao3
Me when daddy hesh walker
König definitely deserved a punch to the face for insulting Goose, but then for her to continue by tackling him and dislocating his arm? Then for Ghost to restrain Bee, and Johnny having to intervene by tripping König even though Goose started the physical fight? As you said, Bee doesn’t like power imbalances (i.e. her stance on the government, and being a DA victim) so wouldn’t she end up more upset about being forcefully restrained by a man and watching someone she loves get excessively hurt? It’s not like König punched Goose randomly :( He tried restraining her until she dislocated his arm
here's how I view it and how I wrote it. König instigated the fight by insulting Goose and Goose retaliated with the tackle and then the elbow. The fight absolutely could have ended there. König got what was coming to him for picking a fight with the wrong person, it happens, the smart thing to do is to cut his losses, say uncle, put up his arms on the defensive. Goose wouldn't have dislocated his arm or kept fighting if he was clearly not going to fight back. He did in fact fight back.
https://vt.tiktok.com/ZSYerK2t9/
Ghoul look at them why are they so biteable.
Gnawing on them like a chew toy
Let's do some cowboy!Logan... I want him big and beefy, as he should be. I don't know what his Darling does but they're sure showing up at Walker Ranch a lot.
(gn!reader, mdni 18+)
just wanted to say that soap is the type of guy in a relationship to randomly text you "thinking of u ❤️" in the middle of the day and before you can reply about how sweet he is, he sends you a picture of his dick that lets you know what kinds of thoughts he's been having about you. evidently he's been thinking about those thoughts for a while bc that's a pic sent with a red, leaky dick that looks to be the culmination of at least two rounds of him jerking off to the thought of you
oh and ghost is the type to instigate you when you're mad at him by texting you and being annoying. sends things like "thinkin of me?" and you reply with a short and passive aggressive No. to which he sends you a pic of him gripping his bulge over the front of his pants and captions it "how bout now?" and you're even more mad at him because he knows that you're going to be thinking about that for the rest of the day and how dare he send you a picture of his large dick when he's still soft