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Sighs

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drew valerYUHHHHH (really proud of this one)

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source: Muppets Most Wanted (2014)

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Lets let go of shame with mama

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Gaz is drowning with bitches, and Johnny is envious of it coz he can't pull.

So when you came out of Gaz's quarters crying, Johnny grinned as he preened before approaching you.

Because stealing Gaz's favorite bird is a hell of a way to one up the casanova.

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Big, scary guy and small, frilly dog is such a powerful combo. And you're completely right that Simon would be swimming in pussy. As a dog lover I would absolutely be kneeling down to greet a darling Cavalier, bombarding Simon with a million questions.

"What's her name?" "How long have you had her?" "Oh, she's so well behaved. Such a sweet girl." "She has such a nice coat, you must take good care of it." "Do you usually walk in this neighborhood? Maybe I'll see you two around!" "I swear I could just eat her up! If you're not careful I might steal her and bring her home with me."

Meanwhile, Simon is standing there looking as intimidating as ever as I fuss over his dog.

You see him walking around the neighborhood, stopping in the same shops in the evening, the same cafe at night. Always with a little copper Cavalier trotting beside him, little pink bows on her ears matching the thin pink leash that's hooked lazily around his wrist. Sometimes he has a shop bag in his other hand, sometimes not, but always the god walking beside him. Her little legs tip-tapping as fast as she can manage to keep up with his long strides.

And every evening when you pass him on your way home you stop to coo over the little dog. "Commander," he'd told you when you first stopped to scratch her tiny head. You figured it was one of those compromises that men often have with their girlfriends, "you can pick the dog but I get to name it." Choosing something that felt masculine to make up for the frou-frou dog. It didn't matter to you, it was easier to let your guard down around a man you assumed was already taken.

Crouch to scratch the dog's tiny chin, giving Ghost a nice view down your shirt. Never once thinking twice about bending over to pet her little head, or smiling at the big man in the skull printed mask.

"What a good girl you are," you coo at Commander, as she leans into your hand, "I could just eat you up, you're so sweet."

"You like sweets, pup?" Ghost rumbles, deep voice sliding thick down your spine.

"I bet you do," You squeeze her little face in your hand, "I bet daddy gets you pup cups when he goes to the cafe, doesn't he?"

"Wasn' talkin' t'the dog." You glance up at him, heat flashing over your face as you meet his eye. "Gonna keep callin' me daddy, pup, or d'you got somewhere t'be?"

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Heheheehehehehehehehe

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Being nefarious with mama

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COD Characters as Photos of Orca:

Ghost:

Soap [handing himself over to meet El Sin Nombre]:

Gaz:

Price:

Laswell [I've written about her in this position many a time]:

Valeria [In charge of drugs]:

Alejandro [When he's yelling at Valeria]:

Rudy:

Farah:

Graves [Stupid]:

Shepherd [Bald]:

Adler:

Woods:

And lastly, I shan't explain.

Makarov:

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I just realised that I’m also very much a virgin on the ace spectrum, who lowkey hasn’t had an orgasm in 5ish years, but still writes a bunch of nasty stuff, but like . Idk. I feel like earthquakes are harder for me to write about for some reason, lmao

I honestly need a fic about what'd any of the cod characters would do during an earthquake but I have not seen any pics about that I think :/

Well.

Im not sure I can help w that one, since I’ve never experienced an earthquake 🤷‍♀️ (or at least one that could be felt). So uh. Idk.😌

Try to stay safe, I presume? I’ll be real, due to the lack of possibility of me experiencing an earthquake in my country, I don’t really know what one does if an earthquake was to happen.

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I honestly need a fic about what'd any of the cod characters would do during an earthquake but I have not seen any pics about that I think :/

Well.

Im not sure I can help w that one, since I’ve never experienced an earthquake 🤷‍♀️ (or at least one that could be felt). So uh. Idk.😌

Try to stay safe, I presume? I’ll be real, due to the lack of possibility of me experiencing an earthquake in my country, I don’t really know what one does if an earthquake was to happen.

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mood recently

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Me when people replace Gaz:

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Thinking about Alpha!John Price x Beta!Reader today.

John, who leans always a little too close, presses himself into you ever so slightly, murmurs “Johnathan for you, love” and noses at your neck, coaxing out the faint soft smell of yours. Perfect darling for him, blushing so deliciously, hissing when he allows himself too much. Keeping him in line.

John Price whose hands are somehow always on you, thick fingers hooking in the loops of your jeans and dragging your hips to his, broad chest of his pressing into your back when he whispers “got you, sweetheart”.

He kisses you behind the ear, always lingering just a little to savour the taste of yours that he manages to swallow being this close to your scent gland. Licking air and not yet your skin, because you keep pushing him away, keep glaring at him like he is a dumb beast too keen on the idea of eating a local bookshop owner instead of looking for royal offspring. As he should have.

Dumb beast who is not realising that he shouldn’t rub his scent into you, that lingering pinewood and cigars kill all your chances to get a proper date with someone.

John, who hums when you protest and gently bites your neck, just holding you between his teeth, your pulse pounding into his lips.

Why’d you need dates with some boys, love? Don’t you have him? Isn’t he the best there is to get?

John, who keeps coming back just to chat you up, always with excuse to touch you, worming his way into your life until you don’t even notice that his thumb has been stroking your wrist for the last 10 minutes of your conversation.

He comes back after every deployment and rubs himself on you, smiling when you hiss and wiggle out of his grip. Feisty first thing after so long apart. He knows, sweetheart, he missed you too.

John who comes back once and has to swallow back a low growl, sound starting in his chest, his teeth itching because you don’t smell like him and you don’t smell like you.

He circles you around before pressing himself into your back, bracketing you against the counter, his nose diving into the neck of yours, beast in his head snarling when he finds someone else’s hickey there.

Kept yourself busy, didn’t you, love?

He’s been gone for too long, his scent got too weak.

John admits, he should have come back sooner, should have pulled you under a long time ago.

But he liked your little game of push and pull, he enjoyed the tag so much that he forgot he isn’t the only one playing.

An oversight, not a good thing for a captain.

John who is still hazy with the blood from last deployment, urge to tear another throat out simmering right under the surface when he presses his hips to your ass, slotting against you like perfect puzzle.

If he knew you’d get impatient, he would have taken proper care of you, sweetheart.

But he won’t make the same mistake again.

John Price, who takes leave of absence so he can stop taking suppressants for the first time in years.

Rut of his pounding in the back of his head, spreading through him like an infection, dripping under his skin like poisonous honey.

Sticky sweet, molten with yearning, hungry for blood.

Hungry for you.

John Price who clicks his tongue at you to stay behind your counter, as he locks the doors behind him and lowers himself down. On his knees, nudging your stance to widen.

So he can pull your jeans down, tongue sliding between your thighs, big hands holding you open for him.

No need to thrash, love. He isn’t letting go now. He isn’t backing away either, not anymore.

His rut makes you hazy, his rut clouds your head and makes you slip, bracing your forearms on the wooden counter, his ‘good job, sweetheart’ dripping slick between your thighs.

John eats you out until his knees ache, until your hips roll into his mouth, until the sweet faint scent of yours blends in with his.

Your whole bloody shop is going to smell like you have a man, love. Like you have John.

There is a low dangerous rumble in his chest when you try to pull away, to stop him from eating you out into overstimulation. Because where do you think you are going, sweetheart? You need to be nice and slick to take all of him.

You need to be soft and pliant for John to feed the thick length of his cock to your greedy hole.

“Goin’ to fuck attitude out of ya, lovie.”, John breathes out, biting your ass until you whimper trying to get him off and until the indent of his teeth is a red mark on you. First out of many. “Any bloke in this bloody country would be able to tell you are taken. Anyone who takes a step inside will know I was here.”, he growls, grinding on the plush of your buttock.

Not going anywhere now, love. Never again.

John Price who clicks his tongue when you whimper about condoms, because that’s just silly, sweetheart, you won’t need any of it with him. How are you supposed to feel his knot if you won’t let it in?

That just won’t do.

John Price who bounces you in his lap, thick calloused fingers holding onto the meat of your hips, slamming you down and pulling you up, until the knot of his pops inside of your hole, plugging you in, binding you to him for the next half an hour.

John Price who holds you in full Nelson, arms under your knees, teeth grazing your ear when he bounces you on his knot, pulling just enough so you’d feel the stretch, so you’d start whimpering for him, so you’d scent become sweeter for him.

Naughty fucking thing, you like him being mean to you?

John who lets the rut take reigns, so he can press you into the counter, biting all over your shoulders, snarling “mine, always mine, only mine” when you can’t help but arch. Whether to pull away or to press into him, he’s not sure.

John who licks the scent gland of yours, teeth itching to sink in, dumb beast in his head pulling him to rut into you. And Lord, you are slick and warm and perfect, squeezing him like you never want to let go, milking him for all he’s worth.

Perfect mate.

He humps into you like a feral dog, heavy thick hips of his pressing into yours, not letting you close your legs. Not when he’s folding you into the mating press and sinking his teeth in the crook of your neck, popping the untouched and unmated gland there. Binding you together, blending himself into you, drinking you in so your sweetness is always in his scent from now on.

Won’t be anyone else, love. Not for him. Nor for you.

John Price who presses your face into his neck, rasps out “bite, sweetheart”, his knot popping back inside of your hole — your legs twitching above his shoulders. Sweet thing, he’s too much for you without much of a preparation. But it’s okay, he will be better next time.

He will take you somewhere soft and warm, he will feed you meat and fruit, letting you lick juices off his fingers, he will suck on your tender sensitive parts until you are crying.

You just gotta bite, lovie, just sink your teeth in his gland, will ya?

John Price who licks his lips when you nuzzle in the crook of his neck, your teeth grazing his gland, your jaw trembling. Rode you ragged, didn’t he, love?

It’s okay, John will help, just open wide, aye?

John murmurs, voice half a growl when he presses your head into his neck, when he closes your jaws down on his gland, shiver running down his spine, everything clicking in place.

This is right. This is how it’s supposed to be.

John who kisses your face pulling you out the crook of his neck — your eyes gone, pupils blown wide and jaw slack when he ruts into you again.

Just one more orgasm, sweetheart, just one more. He knows you can do it, you can be good for him.

You can give him his reward for being so patient, you can thank him for not tracking down your now irrelevant suitor and not presenting you bloke’s fingers as a courting gift.

You can thank him proper and you will, won’t ya, lovie?

Come on, one more time, he rasps in your ear, fingers prying your mouth open and stuffing it until you are drooling messily all over him. Pretty thing, see how easy it is? Just had to come to your Johnathan and he would have taken care of this greedy hole.

He would have made it better. And from now on he always will.

Till death do us part, sweetheart. If he has to say anything about it.

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