#roach/reader

[thatgoblin]

COD Feral Reader Drabble 1

Y/N: *slowly reaches up from squatting behind the counter to try to grab Price's coffee while he's busy talking to Laswell on the phone*

Johnny: *watches with Gaz, both taking bets to see how long it takes for Price to do something about it*

Ghost: *Is napping in a hammock with Roach on top of him*

Y/N: *slithers their hand towards the cup, eyes wide and pupils blown like a cat*

Price: *picks up the cup before it's snagged and walks away*

Y/N: *whines and pouts, chittering in irritation*

Price: *walks back in to set the cup down and walks over to Soap and Gaz* What are you two up to?

Soap: *keeps watching behind him* Just waitin'.

Y/N: *snags the cup with pleased squeaks only to find it empty, flopping onto the floor with a sad moan*

Price: I drank it all nearly an hour ago, but they needed to be kept busy so I let them think it was full.

Gaz: *snickers* Positively an evil genius.

Masterlist

Taglist: @birdstoprey @sebbytheraccoon @pricescigar @alwaysshallow @sae1kie @sleepydang @lexi-zsy09 @ghostlywhiskey @ghosts-cyphera @poohkie90 @neothewitch @shadofireshinobi @sadslasher13 @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @xaestheticalien

[khioneee]

tap out. pt ii.

warnings. mentions of death, emotional distress, grief and loss, pregnancy.

a few years later, another tap-out ceremony arrives, but this time, the air feels different—heavier, somber. simon’s been gone for over a year, his deployment unexpectedly extended due to an incident overseas. you’d been told he couldn’t come home for a while, but that didn’t make the waiting any easier.

today, you stand among families who aren’t just here to tap out their loved ones but to say goodbye to those who didn’t make it home. tears stream down faces as loved ones gather around caskets, grieving the soldiers they’d lost. the sight fills you with a mix of dread and relief, knowing simon is still out there, waiting.

simon stands in formation, rigid as always, but he has a sense for you. before you even appear in his line of sight, he knows you’re near. but imagine his surprise when he catches a glimpse of you in his peripheral vision, a small bundle wrapped securely in your arms.

his heart hammers in his chest, quickening as he realizes what this means. his breath catches, his eyes fixed on you as you approach. you look up at him, your eyes sparkling, a knowing smile on your face as you watch the subtle changes in his expression—the slight twitch of his eyebrows, the way his breathing picks up as it dawns on him.

both of you had been trying for a baby before he left, and now, standing before him, you hold that precious life in your arms. it had been a struggle going through pregnancy without him, feeling his absence during every kick and every sleepless night. but seeing him now, looking more than ready to meet your child, all the pain fades away, replaced by a joy so profound it fills every inch of you.

‘daddy’s home,’ you whisper softly, tilting the blanket so simon can see her tiny face, fast asleep, a perfect mirror of him in miniature. she’s got his nose, his quiet strength already etched into her tiny features.

with tears in your eyes, you reach up, your hand finding his cheek, tapping him out in the gentlest of touches.

the moment your hand connects, simon moves, breaking formation as he pulls both of you into his arms, holding you close as if he’ll never let go. his voice is thick with emotion, barely a whisper as he murmurs, ‘my loves.’

you knew your husband had a reputation in the military—a man as cold and unyielding as steel, a fortress no one could break. but as he held you and your newborn in his arms, that carefully built facade cracked, revealing a vulnerable side of him that only you ever saw. the tough soldier was gone, replaced by a man whose heart lay entirely with his family.

‘do you want to hold her?’ you ask softly, watching his eyes light up with a blend of surprise and joy.

‘her?’ he whispers, voice catching on the single word, as if it’s almost too much for him to believe.

you nod, smiling through a haze of happy tears. ‘her.’

with slow, reverent movements, you pass your daughter to him, watching as she looks impossibly tiny cradled in his strong arms. simon looks down at her with a mixture of wonder and fierce protectiveness, as though he’s already memorizing every detail of her face.

as if sensing her father’s gaze, the baby yawns, a soft little sound that makes simon’s eyes shine with awe. you catch the faintest smile pulling at his lips, a rare, tender expression that he reserves only for moments like this.

he leans down, pressing his lips gently to her forehead. ‘never gonna let anything happen to you,’ he murmurs, voice thick with love and quiet promise.

while simon was lost in his quiet moment with your daughter, a loud shout cut through the air, breaking the peaceful silence.

‘is that our baby i see?!’

simon’s head snapped up, his expression immediately shifting to something harder. he turned to see soap grinning widely, practically bouncing with excitement. with a sigh, simon reached over and smacked the back of soap’s head, though his movements were careful not to jostle the sleeping baby in his arms.

‘there’s people grieving, you idiot,’ simon muttered, but soap only snickered, completely unfazed.

‘and what do you mean, ‘our’? she’s y/n’s and mine. you’re not part of this relationship, mate,’ simon added, his tone dripping with mock irritation.

but soap, undeterred, just ignored him and held out his hands, wiggling his fingers in a display of exaggerated excitement. ‘oh, come on! let me hold our child!’

simon groaned, looking down at you with a glance that seemed to ask, ‘do i really have to put up with this?’ but he couldn’t hide the tiniest hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as soap’s enthusiasm filled the air around you.

reluctantly, and with another sigh, simon finally leaned over, carefully passing your daughter to soap, though not without a low, ‘if you don’t keep her calm, you’re not holding her again.’

soap just grinned, taking her into his arms as if he’d won the lottery, cradling her gently and cooing softly.

soon after, the rest of task force 141 gathered around, drawn by the excitement, each member eager to catch a glimpse of the new addition to the family.

you and simon stood to the side, watching with cautious eyes as they took turns holding her, each one adopting a careful gentleness you wouldn’t have expected from hardened soldiers.

price held her with a proud grin, murmuring something about ‘training her to be the next captain,’ while gaz made her giggle softly with his gentle cooing. even the usually reserved roach softened as he held her, a rare smile tugging at his lips.

you glanced up at simon, watching his face as he stood beside you, arms crossed in a show of casual indifference.

but you knew him too well. beneath the mask of stoicism, there was something warmer, a subtle softness in his gaze as he watched his team, his family, sharing this moment with him. this gruff, unbreakable soldier, who had once thought he’d lost everything, had found a new family among them, one that shared in his joys and sorrows alike.

reaching over, you took his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. he didn’t say anything, just gave your hand a quick squeeze in return, a quiet acknowledgment. but you could see it in his eyes, that gratitude for a family he never expected to find—a family that had now become part of yours.

[metallictastinglifesupportliquid]

Roach: Hey, wanna see something funny? Y/N: Um, ok? Roach: Say ow Y/N: Ow? *2 seconds later* Ghost, Price, Gaz, Soap, busting the door down: Y/N? WHAT HAPPENED? ARE YOU HURT? WHO DO WE NEED TO STAB?

[cherie-doll]

I said "do you think you'll kill for me one day?"

(Yes, of course I will, my darling)

― yandere!cod men x reader ― ε price, ghost, soap, gaz, roach, makarov, alejandro, rudy, phillip graves, keegan, könig, horangi, nikto з suggestive?

꒰ ͜ ‿ ͜ ♡ ͜ ‿ ͜ ꒱

ଘ You're no plaything for Price. He doesn't just like you, he adores you. Cups your pretty face in his hands; delicately. His rugged and rough hands become gentle as soon as he comes into contact with your skin, treating it as if it were finely-grained porcelain. He treats you the exact opposite of how he treats anyone else. Whilst he leaves everyone else covered from head to toe in blood for coming near you, you're covered from head to toe in the most expensive items you wish for. But, he doesn't want you to forget that his money doesn't represent his love for you, it does not begin to cover not even half of what it should. He'll be sure to remind you not to be spoiled rotten. He's fond of you and while he's interested in you, you should listen and obey to what he advices you. He is more experienced after all.

ଘ Compare what Simon's scars and bruises are to your unscathed body. Let his hands roam over your body, taking in all he works for. Let them wander and familiarize with what he's toying with. His breath on your skin as it quickens, losing his train of thoughts as he fondles you. He's convinced you're meant only for him. No one else should touch you this way, no one could do it like he does. And please return it! Cradle his head in your lap, so the sizzling subsides and he feels alive. Let him know he's the best, the one. Let him lean in and capture those soft, plump lips in a passionate kiss. Don't pull away, don't deny him his heaven. And don't you dare let anyone else trail your body with their eyes like he does. Why, he'll feel as if they're already doing what their mind desires. He's screwed up in his mind but he'll move heaven and earth for those thighs to wrap around his waist at night spilling the warmth between them. Make him feel warm and welcome, give him the world he burns everyone else for. He sacrifices others at the feet of your altar.

ଘ Johnny's smug smile can fade rather quickly with one sensual move from you, watch him get lost as his breath is winded and his body is overtaken with an all-consuming fire of passion. Oh, he can't even fathom the idea of anyone before or after him experiencing such things. He'll be paralyzed the moment you sit on his lap and putting your hand to his chest, let it trail over his heart which at the moment beats wildly. It's a sensation he experiences when plunging a knife deep within someone else's chest, he reckons the feeling is almost the same. He thinks his victims rather lucky they die this way. How many other people can experience that fleeting, overwhelming feeling?

ଘ Kyle's hand kisses are done with such reverent trembling and respect that he'll have your skin tingling with warm sensations as if the late evening sun was seeping into your skin. Let his and your body blend together like the watercolors on an artist's canvas does. Bask in his affection like you'll sunbathe on the beach. Take in all the good he brings you, accept every touch of his that starts with a secure embrace and ends with the colliding of your bodies. The cold with which he lashes out for others has no place with the gentleness he entreats you with. Keep your eyes on his, locked in his steady gaze immerses himself in fantasies. He feels dizzy as if his world was spinning, losing himself in the sensations. And after the elation, let him shower you in praises, caresses and gifts. Let him buy you two rings for each finger, how many could you want to show off having a caring partner when you slide his card at the register? Make your hands look pretty whilst his are leaving a trail of crimson blood after him.

ଘ Roach couldn't ever hurt anyone else, he didn't know what he was capable of until the importance of you came all too clear. You're something that shouldn't belong to anyone else in the world. It's a quick descent down the spiral of violent devotion. His soft gaze usually filled with admiration and sentiment for you hardens, his pupils dilating as fear takes over. He's only acting on behalf of all his anguish, you haven't the heart to condemn him. He's shown you what your heart is worth, couldn't you give him some sort of heaven? He will do very well at whatever it is you ask of him, just wait while he shows you. There isn't anyone else like him he says over and over as if a prayer or spell he could make come true.

ଘ Makarov does not care whether he deserves you or not. Unlike the others who will commit unspeakable acts out of guilt and use their "pure" intentions to purify their actions, Makarov is selfish and relentless in what he wants. He does not flinch at your attempts of control, it's lost the moment he takes you in. He's determined to taste everything you have to offer, whether it's willingly or not. But he does like things to be served on a platter for him, he also has no problem taking it himself. Let the hand on the back of your neck guide you in the direction you are to walk, be docile and you'll surely receive tenderness. He can never deny that he loves the way your lashes flutter as you look through them up at him as he pats your head for being so good. Overtime you might notice small details showing his exterior cracking and revealing the soft, white underbelly of affection. He feels as if his chest caves in from your actions, the subtle red at the tip of his ears. Keep pulling at his neck collar, he'll like that fake sense of control you have.

ଘ You wouldn't ever catch a glimpse of Alejandro's manipulative strategies until he finds someone threatening. Is it wrong you're not seeing enough of other people? His biggest fear is you falling for someone else, the danger of you getting too close to someone is palpable for him. The intimacy you two share is from the harvest he's worked so hard for. He's been slaving away for so long to just let someone else lay a hand on you. He kneads you into what he desires, anything to feel the beating heart in your chest which pumps only for him. He'll keep polishing you until he gets down to the bare essence of you, which he can only dream to capture. The rhythm he wants to feel rushing through his veins, circling throughout his body.

ଘ Rudy's tenderness blinds you as he takes you to what you can only describe to be paradise. With the shining of luxury, all new and just for you he says. He'll press a million sweet kisses on your face before dropping that a most bothersome person will no longer be graced by your presence ever again. To him it's like a quiet act of love, to you, it's unimaginable. Don't worry your head will all the details, isn't it better to have no worries? He's all smooth indulgence telling you to keep looking at the adorned future he has ahead for you, telling you not to pay attention to the blood that stains the walls of the hallways you walk. He would lay out a new, fancy red carpet over the corpses for you to step over and continue in this fabricated dream.

ଘ Phillip knows exactly how to get the best out of you. Can you blame a man for knowing how to get what he wants from you? Let him tease and tug for he knows what every maneuver of his does. The hands that massage your skin don't get dirty, he'll always have others ready and willing to carry out whatever order he gives. It's what he's accustomed to and how he intends to keep it. But the droplets of blood that splatter do not miss his skin. The stain is still there, still under the skin of the thumb he pushes inside of you, feeling around for that bliss. Let his protectiveness clothe your body, he's already blurring the lines between obsessiveness and possessiveness.

ଘ Keegan's eyes will have you coming to a stumbling halt. Asking for something only you know how to give so good. Those erratic eyes that are unpredictable as they are deep, representing the deep dive you have to be holding your breath for. Are you ready to indulge? Because the impact will have you gasping for air, and when you try to take one you'll only swallow a mouthful of carnal desire. He ignites such a heat it's scalding to the touch, you don't know what's happening it's like you lose control. It happens so fast that when it's all over you'll let his lips, from which hot breaths slip through, kiss all over your sweat glistened body. His eyes might be softer and hold it for a while until he's back to the merciless, cold gaze which freezes everyone's else blood, feeling it lump within their veins.

ଘ Let König go on his fast rampages. They're over quick anyways. And afterwards, when he comes back, cradle his head between your thighs his tongue tangling as he stutters out promises to buy you what you wish if only you let him lap at your sweetness until his thoughts are left to reckless abandonment. Let him get what he can't get anywhere else. Call him handsome as your bury your fingers into his hair, your fingertips trailing his jaw and down his neck to where his adam's apple bobs as he swallows hard. Place kisses on his cheek until he turns his head in one swift motion and captures your lips in a desperate kiss. He wants it all, wants all of you all at once it makes him messy, shaky and weak. But he just wants someone to hold him, rubbing his ears and whispering words of affirmation in his ear.

ଘ Horangi could care less what other's want from him. You're in his viewpoint and he's determined to apply as much pressure as possible to make you bend. The reason he justifies himself with is the lullaby he's lulled to sleep with. Everyone else wants something from him, why shouldn't you? Everyone else is just in the way, he says over and over again, trying to make you focus on his lips instead of the bodies on the floor. With what he's done, he expects a standing ovation from you, nothing but complete adoration and servitude. He's a man who chases after impulses, who knows how long until this candle runs out. For now, ignore the brusque hand and acknowledge the underlying intents. He'll keep this lecherous momentum going until you're feeling faint from the mere touch of his hand.

ଘ Resignation is a trait Nikto works hard to work out of you. Surely, you ought to trust him after all he's done for you. In his mind, he's dedicated such gentle caring to you, you should be grateful. Don't be afraid to take directly out of his hand, he prefers you lose that skepticism. And when you do start to gentle, oh he can never get enough of it. His fingers grazing and gliding over your body at any and every chance he can get. Let him delve deeper into you, it's only natural for him to want to know you better. Every quiver of yours, he feels through the epidermis of his skin. He just knows you that well. His jerking movements shouldn't startle you by now. Maybe if you were more open, you would be telling him what you want. Give him some sort of sign before that spark ignites an unyielding fire. Because to him, that trembling is a sign of a smoldering fierceness waiting to break through.

:¨ ·.· ¨: `· . ꔫ

[leyavo]

Omega!reader that rejects every bond that any superior offers.

You don’t speak much, that the Alpha’s and Beta’s that have asked you to join them think you only know how to say no.

So when Roach comes along and doesn’t force a conversation to hear you talk, you can’t help but be drawn to him.

Price watches the two of you go about your days in silence. Subtle hints that you are comfortable around the Beta, Roach. Your elbow brushing his, knee touching his thigh as you sit next to him on the sofa in the rec room.

How you lift your gaze each time Roach enters the armoury, where you work. Slight nod of your head as you offer a nonverbal good morning.

The way you sit with him in the canteen, nothing but the sound of your forks scraping the trays. How you trade food that you don’t like and go back for seconds when it’s not busy.

Each time they return from an op Roach searches for you, his boots no longer heavy and dragging along the floor. No, he just needs to see you, feel your presence not your voice.

Your scent merging with Roach’s that Price asks you if you’d like to join their pack. He’s seen the positive impact you have on each other.

And Roach doesn’t complain when he finally hears your soft breathy voice.

“Yes, Alpha.”

[cvntroach5000]

LaDS men vs Orange Peel Theory

Xavier

• "Xavier, can you peel this orange for me?"

• "Of course!"

• No hesitation, all enthusiasm to do something for his babygirl. Very good boy.

Zayne

• You don't need to say anything, just place an orange next to him, nudge it in his direction and his muscle memory will take over and he'll peel it without even realising he's doing it.

• Reliable, locked in, responds without verbal prompt. Green flag king.

Sylus

• "Sylus, can you peel this orange for me?"

• "Sure. Do you need anything else? Are you hungry? I can call the chef or if you ask nicely, I'll make something myself."

• Not very good at the actual orange peeling part, compensates by going above and beyond. Attentive, happy to serve. Husband material.

Rafayel

• Uh... So here's the thing; if you catch him in the right mood and ask in the right way... Yeah, he'll do it!

• However, this man would debone a fish for you anytime. Which is exponentially harder??

• All in all, it's a win. He's just built different. Ocean diva exclusive.

Caleb

• LMAOOOOOO

• He literally cheated death for you, of course he'll peel your fucking orange.

• . . .

• The orange might have drugs in it though, so be careful.

• Least you could ask for, really, he'd do much, much worse bigger things for you. Easy peasy. 11/10.

[oaksgrove]

hiiii! i just read your passenger princess fic, and i got an idea.

what about a reader who isn’t used to princess treatment?

opening a car door? john, why are you doing that? I can do it just fine.

gaz, why is there a dress in the bedroom? you bought it for me because we’re going on a date? why though? I’ve got plenty of dresses.

johnny, whats with the new flowers? they’re for me? why though?

simon, you don’t have to tell me ‘i’m beautiful’. it takes away from time you could be doing something important.

just ‘I know you can do it, but let me’ vibes

Princess Treatment

pairing: John Price x Reader; Kyle “Gaz” Garrick x Reader; Simon “Ghost” Riley x Reader; Johnny “Soap” MacTavish x Reader; Gary “Roach” Sanderson x Reader.

synopsis: You’re strong. Capable. Fiercely independent. And yet… your boyfriend seems determined to treat you like royalty—each in their own uniquely over-the-top way. Maybe “princess treatment” isn’t about weakness—it’s about being chosen, cherished, and loved without condition.

warning: Pure fluff, soft domestic moments, mild language, emotional vulnerability, excessive acts of service, unapologetic simping.

word count: 2018

John Price:

The click of the car unlocking was almost instant the moment you stepped outside. The cold nipped at your nose, the evening breeze catching the hem of your coat as you moved toward the passenger side.

Before your hand could even brush the door handle, John was there. Rounding the hood of the car in a few easy strides, one hand already reaching out, the other tucked into the pocket of his coat like he had all the time in the world.

“John,” you said, brows lifting, “why are you doing that? I can do it just fine.”

His hand paused mid-motion for a second, but he didn’t falter. Instead, he just smirked—warm, amused, a touch of mischief glinting behind his eyes.

“You can,” he agreed, pulling the door open for you with a little flourish. “But you don’t have to. Let me.”

You blinked, thrown off by the softness of it. Like it wasn’t a gesture he was performing for show, but something as natural to him as breathing.

Still, your feet hesitated, and John tilted his head, giving you a look like, Are we going to do this dance every time?

With a sigh, you slid into the seat, settling in as he closed the door behind you with careful gentleness. The quiet click of it felt… final. Intentional.

By the time he circled back around and dropped into the driver’s seat beside you, you were still frowning slightly, staring straight ahead.

He noticed, of course. John always noticed.

“You gonna argue every time I treat you well?” he asked lowly, voice dipping into that rough warmth that always seemed to unspool your defenses. His hand reached across the console, fingers sliding over your thigh and giving it a slow, grounding squeeze.

“…Maybe,” you muttered, too honest for your own good.

John chuckled, low and fond. “I’ll just have to keep convincing you, then.”

You turned to look at him. That scruffy face, the weathered lines that had deepened with age and war and laughter, the eyes that had always been more patient than you thought they’d be.

“Is this a campaign now?”

“It’s always been one,” he said. “You just didn’t notice.”

The drive started in silence, but it was the kind that felt like something blooming between you rather than anything heavy. His hand stayed on your thigh, thumb brushing lazy, soothing arcs.

And when he parked and jogged around the front of the car again to open your door before you could even unbuckle your seatbelt, you didn’t argue this time.

You just let him.

Kyle “Gaz” Garrick:

You almost missed it when you walked into the bedroom—distracted by the lingering emails in your head, the mental list of things you still needed to get done, the ache in your shoulders from a day that just wouldn’t quit. But there it was.

Laid neatly across the duvet.

A dress.

Deep red. Silky soft, with a gentle shimmer that caught the fading evening light from the window. Elegant, understated, yet somehow—it made your chest flutter. The tag was still attached, dangling loosely at the neck, but the price had been carefully removed.

Your brows furrowed.

“Kyle?” you called out, voice echoing down the hallway. “Why is there a dress in the bedroom?”

A familiar pair of footsteps padded closer, slow and smug in their rhythm.

He appeared at the doorframe, shoulder leaned lazily against the wood, arms crossed, that mischievous grin tugging at his lips like he’d just played the winning hand.

“Bought it for you,” he said simply. “We’ve got a dinner reservation. Something fancy. You deserve a night out.”

You blinked at him, then looked back at the dress. Then back at him.

“But why?” you asked. “I’ve got plenty of dresses—”

“Yeah,” he interrupted gently, pushing off from the door and walking toward you. “But this one’s from me.”

His hand reached out, fingertips brushing the hair from your cheek, tucking it behind your ear with all the reverence in the world.

“And I like the idea of seeing you in it.”

You opened your mouth, maybe to argue, maybe to protest that you didn’t need a dress to feel beautiful or cared for—but the words didn’t come. Not when he looked at you like that. Not when his hand lingered just a second longer than needed, warm and grounding against your skin.

He leaned in and kissed your forehead, soft and slow, and you felt it ripple through your bones—the kind of affection that didn’t ask anything from you. Just wanted to give.

“Let me spoil you a bit, love,” he murmured, forehead pressed to yours. “You do everything for everyone else.”

Your fingers found his shirt, curling gently at the hem. “You’re gonna make me cry.”

He chuckled, arms slipping around your waist, pulling you into the warmth of him. “Only if they’re happy tears. Otherwise, I’ll return the dress and take you out in your pajamas instead.”

You laughed against his chest, and when he kissed your temple again, you let yourself sink into him.

“Okay,” you whispered. “Dinner sounds nice.”

And in the mirror, later that evening, when you finally slipped into that deep red dress, you saw it—the soft smile on your face. The kind you hadn’t worn in a while.

Kyle noticed it too, when you walked out.

“That’s my girl,” he said, eyes drinking you in like it was the first time.

And for once, you didn’t deflect. You just smiled and let him take your hand.

Simon “Ghost” Riley:

The bathroom was quiet, except for the muted hum of the fan and the soft rhythmic motion of your toothbrush. It was a routine, grounding in its predictability—just one more box to tick off before bed. The lights were low, casting gentle shadows on the tile floor, and your shoulders were heavy with the quiet kind of tired that came after a long day.

You didn’t even notice him at first—Simon moved like a ghost, even out of uniform—but then you felt his presence behind you, the warm brush of air when he passed close.

“You’re beautiful,” he murmured, voice low and steady like a secret.

You paused mid-brush, blinking at your reflection.

A moment passed.

You leaned over the sink, spit into it, rinsed. Stared at yourself in the mirror and frowned.

“You don’t have to tell me that,” you said, not unkindly—just quiet, blunt, the way truths sometimes fall when you’re too tired to dress them up. “It takes away from time you could be doing something important.”

Behind you, Simon stilled.

The weight of silence fell over the room like a thick blanket.

Then, slowly, he stepped forward.

You watched him in the mirror as he came up behind you—broad frame solid and warm, his expression unreadable but not cold. He didn’t touch you, not yet, just looked at your reflection like he was trying to figure out how to hold something fragile.

“You are important,” he said softly. “This is important.”

Your fingers tightened around the toothbrush. The words hung there, heavy and simple.

You didn’t know what to say to that.

Maybe he didn’t expect you to say anything. Maybe he just knew how easy it was for your mind to convince you that affection was indulgence, that love had to be earned by usefulness. You stared at your reflection, trying to see what he saw. Wondering if you ever would.

He leaned down, finally, and pressed a kiss to your shoulder. Warm. Present. Gentle in the way you weren’t used to being handled.

“If I only ever did things that were necessary,” he murmured, lips brushing your skin, “I’d have missed the best part of my life.”

You glanced up, your eyes meeting his in the mirror.

“You.”

Your heart cracked a little in your chest—just enough to let the warmth through.

And maybe you didn’t quite believe him yet. Maybe it would take time, soft moments like this, repeated and repeated until the walls inside you gave in.

But you leaned back into him, just a little. Let him take the toothbrush from your hand and set it gently down.

Let yourself be held.

Because if Simon—quiet, careful Simon—could learn to make space for softness… maybe you could, too.

Johnny “Soap” MacTavish:

You blinked as you walked into the kitchen, still rubbing the sleep from your eyes, your socks quiet against the old tile floor.

There they were.

A new bouquet.

Sunflowers—bright and unapologetic in their joy—mixed with tiny white blossoms you couldn’t name, all tucked into a mason jar sitting square in the middle of the kitchen table. A ribbon tied lazily around the rim. Water droplets still clinging to the stems.

You stared.

Then turned slowly, already knowing who to blame.

“Johnny…” you started, voice laced with the kind of sleepy bewilderment that only came from early mornings and too many small surprises. “What’s with the new flowers?”

He was leaning against the counter, orange juice in hand, hair still damp from the shower, and a lazy smile already tugging at his mouth like he’d been waiting for this exact moment.

“They’re for you,” he said simply, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

You squinted at him. “But… why though?”

Johnny chuckled, a soft sound that started in his chest and reached all the way to his eyes. He crossed the room in a few easy steps, set the glass down, and wrapped his arms around you from behind.

Your back met the warmth of his chest, and you sighed as he tucked his chin over your shoulder, his breath brushing your cheek.

“‘Cause your face lights up every time you see them,” he said, voice lower now, a little rough with sleep, a little tender with love. “And that? That’s worth the trip to the florist every bloody day.”

You didn’t say anything for a moment. Just stood there with him wrapped around you like a warm blanket, staring at the ridiculous jar of flowers like it was the most confusing, most beautiful thing in the world.

Then, softly, you pressed your face into his chest.

“Stop being cute,” you mumbled, muffled by the cotton of his shirt and the beat of his heart.

“Never,” he whispered against your temple, grinning. “You’re stuck with me.”

And you didn’t need to say it—but God, you were so glad you were.

Gary “Roach” Sanderson:

The kitchen smelled like garlic and thyme and something buttery-soft that had your stomach growling before you’d even crossed the threshold.

You padded in barefoot, hair tied up, sleeves rolled, fully prepared to take over and help—only to find Gary already elbow-deep in culinary excellence. A dishtowel slung over his shoulder, a pan sizzling on the stove, and that familiar hum vibrating in his chest as he stirred something with purpose.

“Smells amazing,” you murmured, reaching for the pot on instinct. “I’ll stir—”

“Nope.”

He gently nudged your hand away with the back of the spoon, not even looking up.

“Gary,” you huffed. “I can cook. You don’t have to—”

He finally turned his head and grinned, that boyish, crooked smile that always made you want to roll your eyes and kiss him in the same breath. He tapped the spoon lightly against your hand, playful but firm.

“I know you can do it,” he said with a wink. “But let me. Just this once.”

You narrowed your eyes, skeptical. “Is this one of your weird love languages?”

He shrugged, already back to stirring, back to humming. “Yeah. Feeding you until you admit I’m amazing.”

You watched him for a beat—watched the way he moved around the kitchen with that easy confidence, sleeves pushed up, forearm flexing as he tossed something into a pan, barefoot and casual like he belonged there, like this was his second skin.

The music playing low from his speaker was jazzy, mellow. The light from the kitchen window painted everything gold. The whole room smelled like something slow-cooked and careful. Like comfort.

With a sigh, you pulled out a chair and sat down, elbows on the table, chin resting in your palm as you watched him. “I’m not gonna admit it.”

“You will,” he said cheerfully, plating the food like you were a food critic instead of his tired partner who hadn’t eaten a real meal all day. “Eventually. When you taste this.”

When he set the plate in front of you—steaming, beautiful, perfectly balanced—your stomach growled audibly.

Gary smirked. “Told you.”

You took one bite, and your eyes fluttered shut. “Damn it.”

“Told you,” he laughed, leaning down to kiss your temple, brushing a hand over your shoulder. “Come on. Let me take care of you tonight.”

You looked up at him, heart swelling. “Just tonight?”

He raised a brow. “What, you planning on arguing with your private chef every night?”

You smiled into your fork, cheeks warm. “Maybe.”

He slid into the seat across from you, mirroring your grin. “Then I’ll just keep winning.”

And the kitchen stayed warm, full of the scent of love and butter, and the quiet sound of laughter between bites.

taglist: @honestlymassivetrash @pythonmoth @kittygonap @rainyjellybear @anonymouse1807 @twoandahalfdimes

[lostintransist]

Can you imagine reader who is on the 141 but is as covered as Simon is at any time? Built a bit like Roach so no one ever questions if they are a man. But they are not, in fact, a man. She is damn good at her job and has a decently low enough voice to pass?

Imainge that one of the guys (I legit don't care which) starts falling for her, still thinking she is a man and then one really bad job she gets unmasked. Gear removed, hair short and wild and small breasts pushing up under the shirt she is wearing.

Can you just imainge the PANIC? Like they had finally settled it within themselves that they must like men but then reader is not? What the hell are they supposed to do with all that soul searching they did?

I giggle thinking about the panic and confusion and the staring, oh skys the STARING. They would absolutely be dissecting every interaction trying to find out they, one of the best, missed such an obvious thing.

Masterlist

[the-raindeer-king]

Simon would love a little freak (affectionate) of a partner. Like you collect weird things, like taxidermy or bones? Say less, babes. He's getting you an animal skull for your birthday.

Is your thing clowns? Man is scouring the internet for some obscure clown clock because you saw it on Ebay once and complained about the price.

You likes bugs? Great, he's got a friend named Roach. Y'all be freaks (affectionate) together. But also he's building you a butterfly garden, or buying you a pet spider, or whatever.

It doesn't even have to be weird. You could just really like the ocean, or horses, or whatever. And I just realized what I'm getting at is that Simon would love a neurodivergent partner...

And he would!! He'd listen to you ramble and rant, and he'd be making a mental list of things to look for when he buys you presents. You could be hyperfixated on literally anything, and Simon would find a way to get you a present related to that interest. This man would move heaven and earth, if it meant making you happy.

[feralgoblinqueen]

At the rehearsal dinner, the night before your wedding, your bridesmaids have prepared a presentation for you. They laugh conspiratorially before pulling the slide show up on the projector. The title is: Y/N Being Feral for Her Future Husband. Each slide has a photo and beneath is the unhinged text you sent with it. All the photos are sneaky pics you took while working with them.

Slide one: A slightly blurry image of him sitting on a bench at the gym.

The caption: “Sitting on his lap would probably fix me.”

Slide two: Picture is of him sipping his morning coffee or tea, disheveled.

The caption: “I’m jealous of a mug.”

Slide three: It looks like a selfie at first but you’re in the bottom corner and he’s in the background in full tactical gear.

The caption: “Love a man that uses protection.”

Slide four: Another blurry image obviously taken on a drunken night out with the rest of the team. There’s a tipped over shot glass and he’s licking the liquor off the bar. He’s got a big, goofy grin, being egged on by those around him.

The caption: “How many shots do you think it would take for him to want to lick me like that?”

Slide five: It’s a picture of his bicep flexed and the corded muscle on display, a slight sheen of sweat glistening in the light.

The caption: “I want to gnaw on him like a chew toy.”

Slide six: This is, much to your relief, the last picture. It’s of him sitting across from you at a dining table, dressed in nicer civilian clothes. Your first official date.

The caption: “Please, whatever deity is out there, don’t let me fuck this up.”

__________

A/N: This has been sitting in my drafts for ages. I don’t even know if anyone else will find it as funny as I do.

[lxvvie]

Simps 'R Us, Between the Sheets edition: Your faves and the wholesome and funny things you two get up to in bed, part I.

Capt. John Price - When he's half asleep and about to snore loud enough to wake the dead (Price vehemently denies this), you like to have random conversations with him because you know questions you ask will do one of two things: elicit a nonsensical answer from the Cap'n or... wake him up from his sleep altogether.

Gaz - Is curling up into himself because you're the big spoon, you're running your hands over his body because he's highkey lowkey ticklish, and your face is buried in his neck because... he's highkey lowkey ticklish. "Darling, please—" Gaz manages to gasp out between... wait, are you giggling, Garrick?

Soap - Your darling golden retriever chaotic good boyfriend loves... to sleep naked. You're not complaining, though, especially because he loves it when you lay on him. You've made a home for yourself between his thighs; his stomach is your pillow, and he usually has a hand rubbing your head. Helps him to relax, y'know, bonnie? And whenever you don't lay on him, it's an affront to Johnny's... everything. His heart is broken. His soul is crushed. You're too far away from him (even though you're still right under him). How could you do this to him? He can't live like this. No other stud muffin can offer you what he can, beautiful. But no really, bonnie, he needs you on top of him like... yesterday.

Ghost - You really like his body. Like... really like his body. You blow raspberries on his stomach, you smack his ass, you talk about his eyelashes—scratch that, you love his body. To you, every scar tells a story, and you've asked him plenty of times to talk about them. And then you did the unthinkable that had Simon wanting to disappear into the fucking blankets—"Si-bear, I didn't know you had a mole on your inner thigh!" Bloody fucking hell, he'll never hear the end of this. And then you kissed it and Ghost's face had never felt so bloody hot before. Christ, you'll be the death of him, sweetheart.

Roach - Nothing but the most sickeningly saccharine stuff to ever stuff happens with Roach. A poke-fest, a kiss-fest, a tickle-fest, you name it, it happens. Roach loves to sleep with his face buried in your chest and arms wound tight around you. Always. You rubbing his head soothes him to sleep as well.

Alex - You're also the big spoon here, too. You're busy talking about conspiracy theories you believe the government is/was involved in and Alex is entertaining you ("That so, Boss?"). In actuality, his eyes are comically wide because the truth is oftentimes stranger than fiction and you may or may not be walking a little heavy there, Boss.

Alejandro - Is the big spoon to your little spoon in bed no matter what you're doing. Loves to intertwine your legs together, too. Alejo murmurs how much he loves you in your ear and kisses the top of your head before telling you good night.

Rudy - Sometimes when he's asleep, you'll whisper "Rodolfo" in his ear which causes Rudy to shoot up, eyes comically wide because the only time someone calls him by his full government name is when he gets into shit but it wasn't him this time, it was that idiot Alvarez— "Didn't get to tell you good night and I love you, Rudy, so... good night and I love you, Rudy." Oh. Oh. Ha. Real funny.

Farah - A cuddle bunny through and through. She loves laying up under you, her head resting on your shoulder or under your chin, or her face in the crook of your neck. She wants to hear you as you sleep. She wants to feel the gentle rise and fall of your chest or the resonances as you speak. Farah simply can't get enough of you.

Keegan - It's really you teasing him because Keegan isn't one to really get flustered or deviate from his infamously neutral expression. Much. Until you came along. You two are relaxing in bed and you're the one randomly calling out, "Hey, Kee-Kee," to which Keegan makes the most surprised and disgusted face in response and you're wheezing.

[artistcalledbella]

for zakhaev

[metallictastinglifesupportliquid]

Ghost: I cut my finger Y/N: I can kiss it so it'll get better Ghost: That works? Y/N: Yeah my mum used to do it when I was little *later* Ghost: I need you to punch me in the mouth Roach: Fucking finally

[cherie-doll]

COD men and they've accidentally hurt their SO? Either physically (like they accidentally stepped on their foot) or misspoke and accidentally insulted their SO?

i would like to apologize for how long it's taking me to get through asks and just updating in general, i wanna SCREAMMM

𓆩♡𓆪 Headcanon: They Accidentally Hurt You

≻ Price, Ghost, Soap, Gaz, Roach, Alejandro, Rudy, Phillip Graves, Makarov, Keegan, König, Horangi, Nikto

Price

He came back home tired and so out of his mind he wasn't really giving you much attention, normally he would be basking in your presence quietly, having you sitting on his lap as he was just glad to be back with you

This time however, it seemed like he wasn't really taking you into account when he didn't listen to what you were saying, greeted you only with a small kiss and went straight to bed, you were left feeling hurt because you had told him you had food ready for him and he didn't seem to hear you and went to sleep

Swallowing your feelings, you went to go clean up and put away his boots left by the door and his other belongings

It wasn't until tomorrow that he noticed you were too quiet and upon realizing what he did apologized for accidentally pushing you away, he knew that him being tired wasn't going to cut it for hurting you, he should've valued what you had prepared for him and so he wouldn't stop telling you how good of a partner you are and how lucky he was to have someone like you he could come home to

Ghost

You're used to his personality and though he may seem a little distant at times it's not because he doesn't love you or you're growing apart, it's just because he still needs time to himself, he enjoys having alone time

Still, because of what he's gone through, although he's put most of it behind and in the past it resurfaces at times, it takes him by surprise too when he unintentionally pulls back harshly against your outstretched hand placed on his arm, it was meant to be comforting but it took you by surprise

His eyes widened seeing your hurt expression and how quickly you tried to hide it as your hand retreat and you turning to leave, without really thinking, he held you back by your arm and without so much as a word leaving his lips, asked you to stay next to him

He did need you, and he had to learn some way or another that he needed to stop preventing the people who cared for him from being there for him at his worst and ugliest moments, it was sort of an apology

Soap

You two play fight so much that it's not unusual for one of you to get hurt during it, once he managed to actually hurt your arm when trying to wrestle you, after taking you to the doctor and being told you had to rest that arm, he had to remind himself every so often that you were hurt and he couldn't play rough

You've rarely managed to hurt him seriously so he forgets rather quickly about your injury and accidentally hurts that same arm again when wanting to pull you towards him, saw you wince in pain and remembered

Apologized like a million times and even offered to "kiss the pain away" by placing little kisses all over your arm and face too, you could only sit there and let him kiss to his heart's content until the guilt in him eased up a bit

Decided it'd be better to not play roughly with you anymore, even after you got better he didn't initiate it anymore unless you did and even then he always let you have the upper hand, he preferred you winning and poking at him rather than making you get hurt again because of his playfulness

Gaz

He's so gentle and careful around you to make sure he doesn't misspeak or hurt you that you wonder how he ever made it in his line of work, he's like an angel for you whereas with anyone else he doesn't like he'll ignore

So, imagine the shame he feels for making you cry, he caught you eating a whole jar of nutella with bread late at night in the pantry and when he told you that it'd be better to stop before it made you feel sick, you burst out in tears, taken aback, he didn't know what to do

He hadn't ever gotten this reaction from you over something so small, turns out you had just started your period and eating the pain of cramps away was the comfort you needed, ofc once he figured that out he kept going "oh, im sorry sweetheart, so sorry my love" as many times as he needed until you calmed down

He'd rather die than ever even think of making you get so upset you cry, he made sure you were okay after that and even offered to go buy anything else you needed or wanted

Roach

I feel like it'd be very difficult for this guy to hurt you seriously to the point you're in tears, instead he might apologize for anything that MIGHT hurt you, whether that be physically or emotionally

Mostly emotionally though, he's afraid that something he says might sound wrong simply because when he's around you he has no filter, but that might have only been in the first stages of your relationship when he was still somewhat insecure around you and would apologize or ask before doing anything

Now, you two are so in sync with one another's thoughts that it's hard to misspeak or be misunderstood, that's the beauty of your relationship :)

If anything you might have more slip ups than he does

Alejandro

Might accidentally hurt you with too much affection, is that a thing? More like overloading you with it

Yes, he looks for any opportunity to show you his love, for example, every morning that he's home he likes to surprise you with breakfast, he even likes to feed you

Except once, he didn't know how hot the food still was and when he scooped it up to place it into your mouth you burned yourself, he jumped and gave you water to get over the painful sensation that sort of ruined your taste that day

You forgave him because he was only trying to be a sweet bf :( by making you a breakfast you could look forward to trying but instead you didn't enjoy it properly because he didn't think to blow on your food before making you taste it

Rudy

Rodolfo has the habit of silently appearing behind you while you're getting ready in front of the mirror, he doesn't do it to scare you he just likes watching you do your routine

It's usually a problem at night though... when it's dark and you only like having one light on to be able to see your face and so the rest around you is darkness and out of that darkness a face emerges and it nearly scares you to death

You usually flinch and accidentally hit your hand or arm against the counter or kitchen sink, this time you hit your elbow on the corner of the counter and you could only suffer silently in pain as he held your arm and stuttered over his words trying to apologize

He'll have to be more careful about approaching you from behind since you're often in your own world and don't see him coming lol

Phillip Graves

Whenever he's doing some sort of job around the house that requires the use of tools like a hammer, nails or a power drill, he always warns you beforehand and tells you stay away, but he has the habit of discarding unused nails on the ground and then forgetting where he's dropped them

It's obvious someone was going to step on one and get hurt eventually, he assumed he had cleaned up all them though, and even if you had shoes on it would still have gone through your shoe sole and pierced into your skin

As soon as he heard you gasp in pain he got off the ladder so fast he nearly fell off and rushed to you, he cursed himself for being so careless, this wasn't a job site, he had to be careful

He cleaned you up pretty well but still took you to the doctor's just in case, those nails he used were found in the shed and he didn't want to take any chances, but he made sure to be cautious when working inside the house

Makarov

Was trying to teach you how you'd react in a situation where you needed to defend yourself, he wanted to teach you to be able to handle anything in case something prevented him from being there to protect you, so this simulation was supposed to prepare you

He accidentally used too much force when you weren't prepared and elbowed you in the chest, it knocked the wind out of you and had you doubling over in pain, he panicked and held you by your shoulders while you caught your breath, his heart nearly stopped seeing your eyes widen when he hit you

He made sure you were okay and decided to leave it at that for the day, he insisted you sit for a while until you caught your breath, but it got him thinking what you'd do if someone else who wasn't him hurt you because they actually had bad intentions, he wouldn't always be there to soothe your pain

All this ran through his mind as you repeatedly called out to him while he rubbed your shoulders on the couch

Keegan

You two often start playful arguments which can and sometimes do escalate into full-blown verbal arguments, it's a strange way both of you can say whatever is needed to be said and also blow off some steam

Once, when an argument did get too heated, he accidentally dropped a plate and it shattered, the tiny fragments flying everywhere, some of which were embedded into your skin, you screamed in pain and that's when he stopped

He was by your side in an instant, forgetting his anger and instead worrying about you, he kept cursing under his breath and believed it was his fault for getting too upset, you didn't deserve to get hurt, he didn't meant for it to happen

He bit his lip and kept quiet as he worked to get all the pieces out and clean you as best as he could, afterwards he mumbled an apology and instead took you to bed where he let you decide whether you wanted to let him sleep beside you too or if you were still mad you'd rather him take the couch in the living room

König

He can't help it, it's not his intention to hurt you, but he forgets how big he is sometimes when wanting to show you affection, especially when he's overjoyed to see you

And it's not like him to warn you in advance so you'll just turn around to see this huge blurb coming at you and you barely have time to brace yourself, sometimes it leads to you accidentally hitting your head on something or feeling sore from the weight of him on top of you, and he looks so comfortable resting on top of you that you feel bad when you have to tell him to move

Raises his head and looks at you in confusion, tilting as he stares at you that it makes you want to shut up and just let your entire body go numb

But it's like his brain fully loads and the realization that he's crushing you sets in he gets off of you so quickly and anxiously asks if he hurt you, won't stop checking you over until you laugh and say that you're fine, then lies at the foot of the bed like a dog now with the worry always in the back of his head as a reminder to be more careful

Horangi

Like his callsign indicates, he pretends to be a tiger sneaking up behind you at times, he loves seeing your reaction when you're distracted on your phone or didn't know Horangi was even home

It's quite a surprise when you're at piece, folding laundry or tidying up and you feel big hands wrapping around you from behind and a deep voice smugly going "boo"

You dropped the laundry basket on your feet and it hurt your toes, if it weren't for Horangi being behind you, he would've also been hopping around in pain

He found it amusing and laughed but helped you pick up the laundry that was scattered on the floor as a way of him making it up to you

And you'll get back at him soon...

Nikto

You're sort of used to him being a little rough with you but he still forgets just how big and heavy his hands really are, like he'll want to tap your shoulder or back and accidentally lay his hand with too much force on you that it feels like a heavy blow

He doesn't notice until you react and then he's like "??", visibly confused because he doesn't know what happened and it's not until you tell him that he will quietly apologize

He doesn't realize that when he's home he can relax on his grip or hold, and it often happens when he's sleeping in bed with you, he still has the habit of when he's deployed to have a big pillow he can just hold close to him, drape a leg over or just smush his face in, and when he's home that pillow becomes... you

The desperation that you awaken with when you feel as if you were suffocating and can't move, you practically have to yell for him to wake up from his deep sleep and ease his grip, you sit up and put an actual pillow in your place and he just goes right back to sleep, doesn't even realize what he's done lol

[leyavo]

| Infestation | 2

Part 2 previous part> [Bug masterlist]

Ever since Bug joined the 141…

The guys keep going on about calling an exterminator whenever they see you hanging out with Roach.

“Looks like we’ve got an infestation.”

Roach as always doesn’t say a thing, scrolling through his phone and humming to himself.

You’re paired with him on most missions, something about being able to communicate with your own kind. Roach doesn’t speak, but you find your flow quickly, speaking up for him every now and then over the radio. *Roach whisperer*

Soap makes little antennas above his helmet with his fingers when he’s talking about Roach.

Gaz asking you what type of bug you’d be when you’re all bored out of your brains, waiting for the go ahead to move forward. “Roach is already taken,” he says pointing to Sanderson beside you.

“Why’s he called Roach?” You asked Price, knowing you wouldn’t get an answer from Roach himself.

Well you did ask, but it was like trying to guess at a game of charades. Roach’s hands swatting through the air, head bobbing and boot stomping as if you were fluent in whatever the fuck he just signed. Definitely not sign language either.

“Fuckers hard to kill.”

You start to understand him the more you’re around him. How he points to the floor when you need to crouch beside him, the darting of his eyes showing you his desired direction. His palm tapping your upper arm to get your attention. He might not talk, but his vocal with his sounds. A little screech when’s a bit too close to death, a whistle when he’s impressed or clicked his tongue when he’s annoyed. (He does talk but rarely).

Fuckers hard to kill.

“I give him two minutes,” Ghost mumbled over the radio. The guys placing bets on how long it’ll be till Roach crawls out the crumbling building.

You’d narrowly missed an explosion, sprinting away from the blast. Only getting thrown forwards by the impact instead of stuck in the destruction.

And they were right. You don’t know how Roach emerged from the rubble in one piece. Simply patting a flicker of ash eating through the sleeve of his jacket. No cocky remark as he slipped back into formation and scanned his surroundings.

Part three

[cvntroach5000]

LaDS men - "Would you still love me if I was a worm?"

dialogue only, slight crack, 1 gendered term used ("ma'am" by Sylus)

content warning: swearing, implied vore (Rafayel), suggestive themes (Sylus)

Xavier ✨

"Xavier, would you still love me if I was a worm?"

"..."

"...Why are you hesitating"

"Oh, sorry, I'm not. I was just thinking what kind of worm you'd be and what you'd need to be kept happy and safe. I'd need to build you some kind of enclosure... But if you were a worm, how would I know which things you like and which you don't? Worms can't talk. I guess I'd have to learn how to speak worm and watch you really closely."

"I'm sure if anyone could make me a happy worm, it'd be you."

"I'm glad you think so. Still, worms are so small and fragile... Please, don't turn into a worm. I don't think my heart could take worrying so much about you."

"Don't worry, I won't! It's just an internet meme."

"Good. Then it's settled. Neither of us will ever turn into worms. If we have to become animals, let's be cats or birds. Together. So we can talk and be equals."

Zayne ❄️

"Zayne, would you still love me if I was a worm?"

"...Sigh."

"Well? Would you, would youuu?"

"Yes. I would become a worm doctor and make sure you are the happiest, healthiest worm. Is that a satisfying answer?"

"Very!"

"Good. Any other hypothetical questions you'd like to ask?"

"Hmm... What kind of worm do you think I'd be?"

"I'm afraid I'm not familiar enough with different worm species to answer that question in a scientifically accurate way. However, I can guarantee you, you would be a worm that is beloved by Zayne."

Rafayel 🪸

"Rafayel, would you still love me if I was a worm?"

"Uhm, duh?? You'd be the cutest little worm, I'd eat you and keep you safe in my stomach."

"...What"

"What"

"You could've stopped at 'yes' and calling me cute."

"Yeah? Well, what about you? What would you do if I turned into a handsome, talented worm?"

"I wouldn't eat you, that's for sure."

"I guess it'd be a shame to waste such a special worm for a meal. You could make me a little worm art studio and then sell my artworks. That way, I could take care of you, even if I was a worm."

"Do you think worms look tasty, Rafayel"

"Of course I don't! But I think you'd be a delicious-looking, tasty little worm."

"...I'm starting to regret asking."

"I literally did nothing wrong."

"You brought vore into this house!"

"Jesus spoke the truth and they hated him for it, too"

"Who the fuck is Jesus"

Sylus 🥀

"Sylus, would you still love me if I was a worm?"

"Heh. What a strange question. Where did that come from?"

"It's an internet meme."

"Well, of course, I would, sweetie. After all, who could resist an adorable worm like you? I'd find an architect and a gardener to design you the largest, most luxurious enclosure, so that you could have the most opportunity to thrive out of any worm in the universe. Every day, I'd tell you how much I love you. And I'd subdue the world, so they'd worship the ground you burrow in."

"...Sylus, I think we gotta have sex now."

"Oh? I didn't know a bit of worm talk could get you so riled up, sweetie."

"You know this isn't about the worm."

"Haha."

"Take off your clothes"

"Yes, ma'am~"

Caleb 🍎

"Caleb, would you—"

"Yes."

"You don't even know what I was gonna—"

"You were going to ask me if I would still love if you were a worm, right?"

"..."

"The answer is yes. Hundred times yes."

"...It'd be nice if you let me finish my question."

"Oh. Okay! Ask me again, I'll wait this time."

"Caleb, would you still love me if I was a worm?"

"Yes!"

"How did you know what I was going to ask anyway?"

"I heard you the other day discussing the meme with your friends. I figured you'd ask sooner or later."

"Hmph."

"Soooo... Would you love me if I was a worm?"

"You're already a worm and I love you just fine, don't I?"