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castielscaplan

Library Violence

Summary: you get kidnapped by some goons and Loki comes to your rescue [WC 1k] [ao3]

Warnings: mafia au, angst, fluff if you tilt your head to the left and squint hard

Request: @samanddeansannoyingsis Mafia Loki who's sweet wife has no idea he's in the mafia. Shes just a sweet little librarian at the public library and then gets kidnapped one day and they ask about her husband.

The library always smelled like paper and quiet. It clung to you the way your husband’s sweaters did when you stole them from his side of the closet. It was safe here. Predictable. Rows of stories that always ended the same way no matter how many times you opened them.

That’s why you didn’t understand.

myfictionalcorner

scrolled through your blog and im in love with your writing oh my goodnessss

could i make a head canon request for loki dating a somewhat shy/reserved reader?

Loki x Shy!Reader

A/N: first of all: Thank you so much💕 i hope this is what you've been looking for, enjoy reading 🥰

Marvel Masterlist Masterlist

-Loki notices your shyness the way others notice sunlight—by how it filters through the air, soft but impossible to ignore. He doesn’t mistake it for weakness; to him, it’s restraint, control, a kind of quiet magic. “You don’t speak unless you have something worth saying,” he muses once. “How rare"

-he doesn’t fill your silences. He lets them breathe. It’s unnerving at first—this god, capable of commanding rooms, content to simply sit beside you while you read, the air thick with unspoken words. He likes that you don’t rush to perform for him; he’s tired of masks

-when you do speak, he listens. Truly listens. Every small comment, every shy opinion about something as trivial as Midgardian coffee or as deep as loneliness. He stores them like treasures. Weeks later, he’ll reference something you barely remember saying, and you’ll realize: he remembers everything

-Loki is patient—but only with you. He teases others mercilessly, cuts through conversation like a knife, but with you, his tone softens. “Take your time, darling,” he says when words falter. “I’ve waited centuries for less interesting things”

-when you’re too quiet, he doesn’t push. He sits nearby, conjuring small illusions to keep the air light—a tiny dragon curling on your knee, a constellation blooming in his palm. You always smile at the magic before you even realize you’re doing it

-he watches how you notice small details — a crack in a wall, the curve of a teacup handle. He finds it mesmerizing, that your mind catalogues what others overlook. Sometimes, he conjures tiny illusions just for you to discover

-Loki loves that you blush easily. He doesn’t say it aloud, but you can tell by the way he deliberately leans in too close, murmuring something in your ear just to see the heat rise in your cheeks. It’s a game he never grows tired of losing

-he notices the way your hands fidget when you’re nervous — twisting rings, brushing hair behind your ear. He doesn’t comment outright, but he reaches for your hand subtly, guiding it into his own. The warmth makes you stiffen, and he smirks, not saying a word

-you once apologized for being shy. Loki’s reaction was instant—his expression sharp, almost offended. “Never apologize for what makes you different,” he said. “Mortals waste too much time trying to be loud enough to be heard. You’re quiet, yet I listen anyway. That’s power"

-when you’re uncomfortable, he senses it before you even say a word. The shadows bend toward him when your pulse quickens; he always notices. One hand to your wrist, a small squeeze, a silent promise: you’re safe

-Loki isn’t used to gentleness. Yours unravels him. When you reach for his hand first, his breath catches like it’s the first time anyone’s ever done it without wanting something in return

-he delights in seeing you flustered—but never humiliated. His teasing is a craft, not cruelty. A brush of magic here, a whispered word there, just enough to make your eyes widen and your lips press into that tiny, shy smile he secretly lives for

-Loki likes to hold you close when you’re startled or anxious. Not because you need saving, but because he craves the trust it takes for you to lean into him

-when you speak softly, he leans in, fascinated by the way your voice seems almost forbidden, as if it needs to be coaxed out. “Do you know the effect you have?” he asks, and you shake your head. “Of course not,” he mutters, smiling against your hair

-he adores your quiet moments of humor — the little smiles, the soft snorts, the way you glance at something ridiculous and can’t help but grin. He catalogues them all silently, storing them for days when he’s far from you

-Loki guards your comfort like treasure. Anyone who mistakes your softness for fragility earns a look so cold it could freeze sunlight. He doesn’t raise his voice. He doesn’t need to

-he loves telling you stories. Old ones, about Asgard and the stars. Sometimes, he embellishes just to make you laugh. Other times, he tells them exactly as they happened—grief and all—and when you touch his hand, he falls silent, undone by how steady your kindness is

-Loki isn’t gentle by nature. But with you, he learns to be. He speaks slower, moves softer, checks for your consent with every brush of his hand. “Tell me if it’s too much,” he murmurs once. It never is

-he sometimes mirrors your quietness. Sitting in the same room, both of you reading or staring out a window. He calls it “a silent alliance,” but you realize it’s his way of grounding himself, too

-Loki protects your space in subtle ways. If someone tries to dominate a conversation with you, he leans in, voice silky and cutting: “Ah, forgive me, but I believe she was speaking.” You peek at him, eyes wide, barely suppressing a smile

-to the rest of the world, Loki is sharp edges and silver tongues. But with you, he’s quiet thunder. You don’t tame him—you simply give his chaos somewhere to rest. And in return, he gives you something rarer than power: his peace

-he knows big gestures overwhelm you, so he shows affection in subtler ways: a cloak draped over your shoulders before you realize you’re cold, a cup of tea appearing beside you while you’re reading, the soft echo of magic humming low in the room so you never feel alone

-he knows touch can be grounding for you. So he learns the balance—when to reach for your hand, when to simply stay near. His palm is warm, steady, and he never lets go before you do

-when you do laugh—really laugh—it makes him pause. He’d raze worlds to hear that sound again. So he keeps a mental list of what amuses you: his sarcasm, his overly dramatic retellings, the way he mocks Thor’s heroic poses

-Loki notices everything about your shyness — the way your eyes flick away when someone stares too long, the small pauses before you speak. He doesn’t tease you for it. Instead, he builds silence around you like a shield. “Let them fill the air with noise,” he murmurs. “We’ll keep the peace for ourselves"

-you start to discover that he has a side he only shows in private — slow, careful touches, whispered reassurances, small gestures that say “I see you, entirely"

-Loki sometimes watches you sleep, quietly tracing the line of your jaw or the curve of your hands. He says nothing, knowing that some adoration doesn’t need to be spoken aloud

-Loki sometimes whispers your name like a spell in the dark, just to hear it on his lips. Not for anyone else, just for him. It’s his way of reminding himself you’re real, that you’re his, quiet and steady, a counterpoint to his chaos

-when you’re too nervous to speak up in front of others, Loki speaks for you — never condescendingly, but with such smooth precision that no one even realizes what he’s done. Later, you thank him. He only says, “you don’t owe me gratitude for protecting what’s mine”

-Loki’s love is loud, yours is quiet — and somehow, it fits. He fills rooms with words; you fill them with calm. He once told you, “you’re the stillness between my storms.” You thought he was being dramatic, but the next day he repeated it like he was reminding himself

-you get overwhelmed easily when people talk over each other. Loki notices. He’ll slip his hand into yours under the table, a grounding gesture only you understand. “Focus on me,” he whispers, voice just for you. And you do. Every time

-you never expected Loki to be so gentle. He moves with such precision, as if every touch might shatter you. When you tell him you won’t break, he smiles faintly. “No,” he says, “but the world has not learned to be as careful with you as I have"

-he teases you sometimes — softly, affectionately — when you hide behind him during confrontations. “You’re lucky I adore cowardice when it’s this endearing,” he says with a grin. But the moment someone else makes you uncomfortable, his entire demeanor shifts. The god of mischief becomes the god of menace

-Loki’s arrogance used to scare you a little. Now, you recognize it as armor. When he boasts, you just hum in response, unbothered. “You’re meant to say I’m magnificent,” he prompts. You glance up at him, amused. “You already know that.” It’s your quiet defiance that disarms him

-Loki loves to show you off — not in loud ways, but subtle ones. The way his hand rests at your back in crowded rooms. The way his tone softens only when he speaks to you. Everyone notices; you pretend not to

-when you’re unsure of yourself, Loki looks at you like you’ve just said something absurd. “You’re doubting yourself again,” he says. “Fascinating. I didn’t think mortals could be so foolish twice in one lifetime.” It’s biting — but his thumb is tracing circles on your wrist as he says it

-Loki never rushes you. When you hesitate to speak, he waits — patient, uncharacteristically so. The others interrupt or move on, but Loki’s eyes stay fixed on you until you finish. When you ask him why he does that, he says, “because your words deserve to be heard, not hurried"

-the first time you raise your voice — really raise it — Loki looks stunned. Then, slowly, that wicked smile spreads across his face. “Ah,” he says softly. “There’s fire beneath all that quiet. I knew it.” He doesn’t argue back. He looks almost proud

-you’re hesitant to touch him sometimes — not out of fear, but reverence. Loki notices that too. “You can touch me, you know,” he teases. “I don’t bite.” Then, lower, almost as an afterthought: “Not without consent”

-when you get shy during a compliment, Loki leans into it, loving the way you fidget. “You blush so prettily,” he says once, just to see it happen again. You groan, hiding your face. “You’re cruel.” “Yes,” he agrees. “And you love it”

-Loki introduces you to things slowly — Asgardian customs, fragments of his magic, the stars of realms you can’t pronounce. “You don’t need to speak,” he says when you’re too shy to respond. “Just listen. You do that better than most gods I’ve met”

-you get stage fright before public things — dinners, events, anything that demands attention. Loki handles it with grace. He distracts you with ridiculous conversation until you forget to be nervous. Then, when you realize what he’s done, he smirks. “You’re welcome”

-he’s possessive in quiet ways — a hand on your waist, a look that silences unwanted attention. You’ve learned not to question it. “Old habits,” he admits once. “When you’ve been betrayed enough, you start guarding what you love too tightly”

-Loki rarely lets people see him soft. But you catch it in flashes — the way he adjusts your scarf before you leave, or the faint hum of magic that follows you when you walk alone. You once teased him for being overprotective. “No,” he said softly. “Just unwilling to lose you”

-you tell him once that you envy his confidence. He laughs — really laughs — and it’s not cruel. “Confidence,” he says, “is just fear in a better outfit.” You think about that for days

-Loki loves that you aren’t like him. That you don’t demand attention, or play to an audience. “You undo me,” he admits one night, lying beside you in the dark. “You do nothing — and yet, somehow, I am seen"

-you’re shy, but your honesty cuts through his illusions like nothing else. Once, he’s mid-rant about how no one could ever understand him, and you simply say, “I do.” He stops mid-breath, eyes flicking to you like you’ve said a forbidden truth

-he adores how you listen. Really listen. It unnerves him sometimes — that someone could care without condition. So he talks too much, spinning stories of realms and wars, just to see if you’ll stay. You always do

-there’s a quiet pride in him when people notice your presence. You don’t need to command attention — you simply exist, and the room bends around your gentleness. Loki notices it most. “You’ve bewitched me,” he says once. You laugh. “You’re one to talk”

-Loki never forces you into his chaos. When you shy away from confrontation, he handles it with that smooth, cutting charm of his. Later, he says, “you’d have turned them to stone with one look, had you wanted to.” You roll your eyes, but he means it

-sometimes he catches you staring at him — not out of awe, but curiosity. “Careful,” he says, amused. “Staring at a god too long can be dangerous.” You just shrug. “You’re the one who won’t stop glowing.” He tries not to smile. He fails

-Loki doesn’t often apologize outright. But after arguments — rare, intense, full of miscommunication — he’ll find small ways to mend things. A cup of tea left by your side. A whispered “I went too far” half-swallowed by the dark. You always forgive him — and he never quite forgives himself

-when you’re nervous, your hands shake. Loki notices every time. He’ll steady them, pretending it’s casual, fingers brushing yours. “Even gods tremble,” he tells you once, voice low. “They just do it when no one’s watching”

-he secretly loves when you wear his clothes — oversized and soft, sleeves swallowing your hands. He never says it aloud, but he stares too long. The smirk gives him away. “They look better on you,” he mutters. “Everything does"

-when you can’t find words for how you feel, Loki fills the silence for you — not with answers, but understanding. “You don’t have to speak,” he says quietly. “I already know.” And somehow, he does

-Loki shows affection through exaggeration. “Without you,” he declares one morning, “Midgard would crumble.” You laugh, calling him dramatic. “Dramatic?” he says, feigning offense. “I’ll have you know that was an understatement”

-there are moments when his sharp tongue slips, when fear makes him cruel. You go quiet then — not out of submission, but disappointment. That’s what gets to him. Later, he’ll come to you, voice small. “You’re far too kind to me.” You answer, “that’s not possible"

-Loki doesn’t always understand kindness. When you do small things — straighten his collar, touch his hair, say “be safe” before he leaves — he looks at you like you’ve handed him something priceless. “You treat me as if I’m… good,” he says once, uncertain. “You are,” you reply

-you never thought someone as sharp as Loki could be soft. But he is, when it’s just you. He’ll trace lazy circles on your skin, whispering things he’d never admit in daylight — regrets, dreams, promises that sound almost mortal

-sometimes he gets lost in thought, caught between the god he was and the man he’s becoming. You don’t pull him out — you just sit beside him, quiet and steady, until he returns. “You always wait for me,” he says once. “You always come back,” you answer

-he jokes that your shyness is his favorite form of flattery. “You go silent every time I walk into a room,” he teases. You respond, “maybe I’m just planning your downfall.” He laughs, the sound like thunder made gentle. “I’d let you”

-loving Loki isn’t about taming the chaos — it’s about being the calm he chooses to come back to. And for all his silver words and ancient power, his voice softens most when he says your name. It’s not worship, not magic — just devotion, quiet and human and real

-loving Loki as a shy, reserved soul is like standing in a quiet room while a storm rages outside. You flinch at every sound, unsure of your place, but he moves beside you like a shadow that comforts instead of scares. He notices the little pauses, the nervous smiles, the way you shrink slightly, and instead of mocking, he cherishes them. His teasing is careful, his touch deliberate, his words a mix of mischief and reassurance. With him, your shyness isn’t a flaw — it’s a language he learns, a rhythm he matches, a world he quietly protects. Loving him means being seen in your quietest moments, and feeling safe in the storm

Your feedback and criticism is greatly appreciated; feel free to leave a comment, it means more than you know 💕

Thank you for stumbling onto my Blog, enjoy reading 💫

unearthlyeclipse

"I'M BETTER THAN YOU THOUGHT"

Loki Laufeyson/Odinson x Reader || 10k Words || You've been training and waiting many years to be the perfect bride. Obedient, caring, non-revolting. The day finally comes when you are hand-picked for a husband. Once that day arrived, you never expected to be selected as a childhood friend of yours, the friend who would grow up to be the king of Asgard.

A/N: To the poor anon who requested the President Loki fanfiction, I PROMISEEE you I'm working on it, I'm reposting this story from my AO3 in the meantime, I apologize again, and this goes for my other wonderful requestees!! Please enjoy this one, as this was one of my first fics I've written after 3-ish years!!! This is also a DIRECT rip from my AO3 page (CoralChutes) so there may be a bunch of spelling errors!!

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, smut, minor angst, mutual pining, enemies to lovers, arranged/forced marriage, slow burn, hate sex (?) but not for long, "You cum first," taunting and teasing, cunnilingus, fingering, sloppy makeouts, hair pulling, edging, hand/blow jobs, deep throating, nipple play, you're playing hard to get somewhat, doggy style, riding, choking, creampie, squirting, slight breeding kink. If I miss any, let me know!!

The two of you sat at an elegant table with countless choices of food scattered amongst the fine fabric of the tablecloth that had a beautiful gold trim with a fancy white pattern as the base color.

Loki’s hand rested beside his plate, which only had small crumbs remaining. His finger taps in frustration against the table, looking straight across from him to you as you slowly eat your food, still trying to process the events from today.

It was all so sudden. You're now married to the King of Asgard after being selected, a maiden who was trained to be an excellent wife, not knowing you would get selected for the God of Mischief. Not by a long shot.

rawme-price

thoughts on reader calling ghost or price mommy?

Oh nonny...the thoughts I have.....

Anyways imagine being ghosts younger partner, very much the typical shy thing that clings to a big strong guy like ghost. He's learned to ignore the teasing comments from his mates about it, more focused on cuddling up with you in bed.

"I don't want you to call me dad." He tells you one night, face squished into your shoulder blade. You two had just started being more intimate, and it seems ghost has deemed now the perfect time to lay down the rules of engagement. "Or daddy, or papa, or whatever other fatherly term."

Ghost thinks of his own dad and grimaces. Yeah, the last thing he wants to be is anyone's father, and you're too young for him to be calling you dad like he did price. "None of that 'choke me daddy' shit, got it?"

"Awww, you're no fun." You huff playfully, but make sure to note that down. Then, teasingly, you add "what about mommy? You've got the tits for it. You'd like being called mama?"

You giggle at your own joke, and wait for ghost to respond with a ghost-like quip. Except...he goes still at your back, muscles tensing. "Uhm."

"Hey. Simon, it's cool–" you frown, wiggling around to face ghost, brows pinched "if you don't want me to call you that, I won't. I was just playing–"

As you shift, your thigh rubs against something hard between ghosts legs, and he gasps. You both stare at eachother, frozen. His face turns bright red, looking away "uh– it's— if you weren't serious–"

"Oh my god!" You perk up, far too excited as ghost curls away in embarrassment. "You would! You'd love it! Simon, this is great!"

Ghost, meanwhile, is burning in humiliation and contemplating how fast he can reach the gun on the nightstand as you straddle his torso. "I....it's nice."

"Mmmhh, feels more than nice, mommy." You counter, sliding down to rub against his bulge. Seeing how flushed the whole thing has ghost, you snuggle up to his chest and ask "help me please? It'd make me happy, mommy."

"....fuckin' hell, kid." Ghost grunts, but indulges and grabs your hips. Slowly, he guides you to grind againdt his clothed erection, muttering "you need mama for everything, hm? Can't even get off without me?"

"Yes, yes, mama. I need you–"

Your words are cut off by a sudden jerk of ghosts hips, and suddenly he's tossing his head back with a gasp and–

"Holy shit, si." You whisper, awestruck. Never, in all the months you've known ghost, has he ever done that "did you just...?"

"...yeah." he sounds just as shocked.

Ghost just came in his pants because you called him Mama.

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linkwho1

marvel rivals fanfic except you’re the player and half of them are hopelessly inlove with you but they can’t get to you through a screen so they have to figure out a way with the help of doctor strange

rawme-price

Imagine stressing about the date you plan to go on with your captain, Price...

Sure, he's sweet and affectionate with you in the hidden corners of the base, but you never wear anything too revealing around there. Nothing form-fitting, always geared towards comfort.

On base, there's at least the illusion that you're skinny enough to be the pretty thing he wants to chase after.

But...not now, as you stand in the mirror. You frown at how every dress you've tried on just..doesn't work. The pudge of your lower stomach hangs out, fat rolls on your sides. It's a simple black dress, but form fitting. It looked nice on the model.

You're tempted to call it off, tell price to cancel his plans, when you hear a knock on your door. Price is here. You can't avoid this.

You open the door, resolutely staring at John's shoes to avoid seeing his reaction. He's dead silent for a long, agonizing moment. You're not sure what to think besides please don't be disgusted.

"...bloody hell, kid," he huffs, voice low and stunned "yer not plannin' on wearing that out, are you?"

Your stomach drops, lips trembling. Before you can force out an apology, price is stepping into your space, hands finding your hips "christ– i won't be able to stop myself if you do. Yer trying to kill yer old man, huh?"

Your eyes dart up to his face, and with a startling realization you note that price is smiling. Face red, brows pinched, but smiling. "you like it, then...?" You ask, unable to stop your doubt.

"Like it? Love, ahm about ready to bend you over right now," price chuckles, warm palms sliding over your pudgy stomach. He freezes over your hips, and you're sure he can feel how your lingerie hugs and pinches your fat in ever so slightly.

"Fucking hell–" he groans, head dropping with a rough exhale. Price pushes you further into the room hurriedly "actually, how about we postpone, eh kid? I wanna see what else you've been hiding–"

Well...turns out price is more than happy about your weight. He makes sure you know that, thoroughly and several times over that night.

marstonrider

cw: smut, double penetration, probably inaccurate idk

—

support!reader who’s earned the affection of the two tanks, Dr. Strange and Magneto. mag will toss you a bubble or strange will explode the enemy so they don’t harm you and in exchange you keep them up. after a particularly nasty fight they’re both pretty banged up and you’re nowhere near your ultimate! your primary fire, regular bullets charged up with healing magic stored within your body, aren’t doing the job fast enough and they need to get back out there before the enemy delivers the payload! lucky for your vanguards, stephen knows how to tap right into your magic’s source with the help of the master of magnetism, of course.

glasvera

Could you do a smut of president Loki and fem secretary reader?

Oh yeah... that can certainly be arranged ;)

Presidential Feast

President!Loki x Fem!Secretary!Reader

Description: Things are not all they appear to be in the office of the president's secretary. Though you work diligently at your desk, there is a certain someone who works even harder to get you to come undone completely from below.

Warnings/Disclaimers: SMUT (18+ only, Minors DNI!!!!), PWP, public sex, cunnilingus, vaginal fingering

A/N: I blacked out and when I woke up, there were two thousand words of Loki smut on my computer screen. Dunno how that happened. Fair warning, this is barely proofread. I'm just amazed I wrote this in one sitting LOL

Word Count: 2k

“...So, if there is any way I could speak to him directly…”

The saccharine smile wears at the corners of your lips. You’ve worn it for hours now, feigning pleasantries, signing papers, redirecting and avoiding pointless or dangerous questions from the press. You were excellent at keeping face, as it were, but even still…

This job was exhausting.

Maybe it was foolish of you to expect people to use their eyes. President Loki was clearly busy in his office, preoccupied as he leafed through stacks and stacks of backlogged paperwork. You could quite clearly see that through the door’s window. Apparently, most of your appointments, scheduled or otherwise, were incapable of seeing the commander in chief hard at work. Why else would they bother you ceaselessly for a chance to speak with him?

darlingkairos

To the Loki on my team I accidentally swallowed and forgot to spit out as I dove to my death. Papa I sowwy💔

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xia0ming56

Been hitting milestones both here n on twt so thanku for 750+ flws!!! As a reward hav this dr strange thirst trap

garnetdawn

got into Rivals for Stephen but i got captivated by this little powerwashing shark as well

cruxhing

i saw somewhere where they have to have meetings with agents about if a beautiful woman talks to them, chances are, they’re a spy. so here’s simon ignoring you bc he’s trained to believe you might be a spy when you just think he’s attractive. fem! reader

silverlullabies

Simon “I purposely antagonize the missus so she yells at me” Riley is currently getting reamed a new one in the middle of base, and Gaz- poor unfortunate soul- walks right into the middle of it.

You’ve got Ghost pinned in place with nothing but your voice. No hands on him, no weapons, just fury and sharp words.

Kyle slows. Stares. Immediately regrets having eyes.

And yet he can’t look away.

He drifts over to Soap, who’s posted up nearby like this is a cinema and he paid for premium seating. “Uh,” Gaz says quietly, because volume feels disrespectful in the presence of whatever that is. “What’s all that about?”

Soap doesn’t even glance over. “That’s his missus,” he says, like he’s explaining the weather. “And he must have done some thin’ truly bad this time, ‘cause she’s been going at him for twenty minutes.”

Gaz’s brows shoot up. “Should we… help? Get him out of it?”

Soap makes a noise halfway between a laugh and a snort. “Help? Mate, look at him.”

Gaz looks.

Really looks.

Ghost’s shoulders are relaxed. Not braced. Not defensive. His weight’s pitched forward, like he’s drawn to you by gravity. Half lidded eyes, head tilted, body language screaming more, please while your words get sharper.

Gaz swallows. “He’s… enjoying this?”

Soap’s grin turns positively feral. “Turns him on. Si’s exactly where he wants to be right now.”

Gaz stares at Ghost like the man just sprouted another head.

And Ghost, like he can feel the judgment, flicks his gaze over, catches Gaz watching, and doesn’t even have the decency to look ashamed. If anything, his eyes crinkle like he’s smiling under the mask.

rawme-price

Thinking about alpha!ghost with severe cuteness aggression...

Being a guy as big and intimidating as him, it's impossible to see the cute omega sergeant and not get cuteness aggression. The first time he meets you, he hardly speaks a word, but price finds him three hours later beating the shit out of a punching bag and muttering about "cute fuckin' eyes...adorable fuckin' smile..." and leaves him to it.

He really tries to contain it the first few weeks, he doesn't want to scare you off namely because price would have him running laps for a week straight.

Still...his instincts get the better of him sometimes. Which is how you end up getting your back slammed against some wall while ghost aggressively scents you like a very angry cat, rubbing his neck to yours so hard your whole body jerks at the motion.

Other times, when he's been away from you for awhile, he'll pin you to the nearest surface and teeth at your throat, arms, shoulders, anything he can get. Always accompanied by a very fond growl.

Sure...you could get him to stop if you really wanted. People certainly have offered, assuming the worst. But...it's kind of fun in a thrilling way knowing all the power ghost has, and all he does with it is shower you in affection.

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vanknowledge

creepy guy

c-r0w5

In love with the lighting and shadows

#simon riley #ghost #Simon ghost riley #cod fanart

rawme-price

No thoughts just hyperspermia!ghost who has no clue that he doesn't produce a normal amount cum.

Imagine pulling ghost into a supply closet after he confesses he's never had a blowjob before. Impulsive and full of adrenaline, either of you could die tomorrow. Why not enjoy the moments you can with ghost, instead of waiting?

"Fuck– ohh...that's good, love." Ghost grunts, head thumping against the closet wall as you take him into your mouth, glad for your well-tamed gag reflex.

It's obvious ghost is new to this by the way his muscled thighs jump under your fingers, hips bucking forward with a shuddered "ah! Sorry– sorry, you feel good. Christ–"

At least he has the decency to stutter out a warning when he feels close, hands clenching tight at his side to stop from shoving you down to the base.

You knew coming into this you'd have to swallow, and hum in delight as ghost's cock twitches against your tongue and a salty warmth fills your mouth.

Except...it doesn't stop.

"Mmhhhg, thank you, thank you–" ghost groans into the air, unaware of you struggling to swallow down another mouthful of cum. It's viscous and warm, each spurt filling your mouth only for more to come. Coating your throat thoroughly while you essentially chug him down.

When it finally stops, you have to sit back on your knees and just breathe for a moment. Ghost finally takes note of your silence, peeking down at you to ask "uh...you okay?"

"Oh my god....Holy shit, ghost." You reply, then pause when you realize your voice sounds different now, the cum literally coating your throat. "That was....so much fucking cum. Ghost what the hell."

You shift, and nearly pass out when you realize you can feel the cum in your stomach, like after eating a bit too much food. Oh. Oh you like that.

"Sorry?" Ghost tilts his head, unsure.

"Ghost, I don't care what plans you have, we're going to your barracks now. I need to see that again." You grab him by the tac vest and begin dragging ghost down the hall.

Ghost's voice sounds only a bit scared when he responds "yes sergeant."

c-r0w5

Hyperspermia my beloved

#simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #cod fanfic #cod smut

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