#HAPPY HALLOWEEN TO ME | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

theharddeck · 1 year

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as if it doesn't turn you on, just to say it

basically I saw @hangmanapologist 's post (💙) and immediately opened a Google doc. the s t u n n i n g Rhett/Lewis edit is from Robyn as well!!

pairing: Bob Floyd x fem!reader

summary: you convince Bob to dress up as your favorite show for a Halloween…and he looks way better than you could’ve prepared for

warnings: 18+ minors please DNI!! smut, swearing, explicit unprotected piv sex, explicit oral (m!receiving) sex, and mild sacrilege.

unofficial tag list (lmk if you want to be added or removed, i just tagged people who are equally feral for bob or who were nice to me once about my work): @wildbornsiren @peakyrogers @javihoney @fuckyeahhangman @thedroneranger @princessofglitterland @gigisimsonmars @thedroneranger @laracrofted @bioodforbiood @winterrebel04 @javihoney @withahappyrefrain @rhettabbotts @roosterforme @bradshawsbitch

Bob’s voice was muted as he spoke through the bathroom door. You stood in front of the full length mirror in your shared bedroom, rubbing absently at your red lipstick, a matte liquid product that stuck to your lips with apparently industrial strength. You hoped the same could be said of the boob tape you were placing entirely too much trust in, for something that was $16, and from Target. You tilted your head at your reflection, pleased with the overall effect.

Rationally, you knew it was just a black jumpsuit—a halter neckline, a wide pant leg, a strategic opening over the breastbone—but with the red lipstick and fake cigarette, it felt like a suit of armor.

It was as if Phoebe Waller Bridge herself was your fairy godmother, and had appeared in a thought bubble in your subconscious to tell you that you looked smashing, or something equally British and charming.

And, since your boyfriend had been convinced to don a matching costume, you were ready to see his look for the night.

“What do you mean?” you called, fussing with the approximation of Fleabag’s haircut you’d achieved with an array of pins.

“It just looks like a priest’s robe,” Bob’s voice came through the door again, confusion and indecision in his tone. “I’m really not sure what the effect is supposed to be.”

You smiled to yourself. “Why don’t you let me tell you how effective it is?” you asked.

You heard the bathroom door creak open, and Bob’s head stuck out of it. His costume was hidden by the door, but his eyes met yours in the mirror, before running down over the jumpsuit.

“You look amazing,” he said softly, and you smiled as you turned to face him. His compliments always settled over you like sunshine, warming you from your skin inwards, his sweet conviction brokering no room for argument.

“Thank you,” you smoothed your hands over the front of your slacks. “Can I see yours?”

Bob’s nose wrinkled slightly, and he turned his head sideways, leaning against the door, using it like a shield.

“I just look like a priest,” he complained meekly, “while you look so hot.”

“A million fanfics would suggest that those are not mutually exclusive,” you cajoled. “Come on, let me see it.”

Bob sighed, opening the door, and while you wished your reaction was for the sake of dramatics, it was entirely lacking in pretense.

He looked so good.

You’d known Hot Priest would be a great costume for your boyfriend, since the Andrew Scott trifecta of broad shoulders, big hands, and a soft smile was practically custom-made for Bob. But you hadn’t been prepared for just how well it would suit him.

The high white collar was stretched across his throat, emphasizing the width of his neck, and leading down to his shoulders. The black robe was unassuming enough, but it wasn’t enough to hide the definition of Bob’s shoulders and chest. If anything, it highlighted them by contrast. You’d always been attracted to the dichotomies within Bob—his strength and his softness, his gentleness and his discipline—and the vestment was putting them on blast.

He looked like a good man who fucked, and you must've had quaker ancestors, because it was really, really working for you.

The only other exposed skin was his hands, which was a whole other blessing.

He had great hands.

His long fingers were fidgeting under your perusal, and you dragged your eyes back up his body as Bob waited for your verdict. His hair was a little longer than normal, and you noticed the ends of it curling up around that damn collar, and you were practically itching to run your fingers through it.

“Alright,” Bob grumbled, somehow uncertain as to how to interpret your reaction, “let’s have it.”

“Babe,” you shook your head. “I literally cannot even tell you how good you look.”

Bob’s eyes narrowed behind his glasses, looking down at himself. “Seriously?”

“Seriously,” you assured him. “Like… like the female gaze personified; it’s actually ridiculous.”

He pushed his glasses up on his nose, shifting between his feet and pulling at the collar.

Just that simple motion, a long finger tucked under that white fabric, and you wanted to call Penny and tell her you were sorry, but you and Bob actually couldn’t come to the Hard Deck’s Halloween party tonight.

Instead, you crossed the room, determined to be PG, and wound your hands around his neck, smiling up at him. “Thank you for agreeing to this,” you said.

Bob’s hands came around your waist easily, his shoulders relaxing as he felt the press of your body against his.

“Of course,” he said automatically, and you knew he meant it. He was simple like that—if it would make you happy, he’d do it. You squeezed your arms a little tighter around him, and Bob immediately adjusted his grip, always willing to match you.

You shook your head, looking up at him fondly. “You’re too good to me,” you told him, honestly.

“You make it easy,” Bob said, leaning down to press a kiss to the top of your head. Bob’s hand ran up and down your spine slowly, a soft touch allowed by the open back of the jumpsuit. You snuggled into him, grateful and enamored and a hundred other things much wholesome than your reaction to his costume. You stayed that way for a long moment, wrapped in each others’ arms and your own thoughts, quietly charging before you’d face the adventure of Halloween with the rest of the dagger squad.

+++++

“We are good friends,” you announced, as Bob locked the door to the apartment, some four hours later.

“Absolutely top drawer,” Bob agreed.

The two of you had braved a costume contest (Jake and Javy won), obligatory thematic drinks (neither you nor Bob loved the taste of gin, but you couldn’t do Fleabag and not sip G&Ts), and Rooster playing his entire repertoire of spooky Halloween songs on The Hard Deck’s piano (twice).

It had been fun, it had.

It had also been exhausting.

You kicked off your heels without finesse, and Bob sighed tiredly as he leaned over to undo the laces of his dress shoes. You smiled at the image of him, his large body bent over in the small hallway to arrange the shoe rack; he lifted a hand in your direction without looking up, and you slid your heels over to him with your toe.

He looked up at you, smiling briefly, and his thumb brushed over your ankle in acknowledgment as he arranged your shoes next to his.

You held out a hand to pull him up and he took it, straightening and stretching his back as he rose. His arm draped loosely over your shoulder as you walked down the hall, his fingers still playing with the hand you’d offered him.

“The costumes were a hit,” he mused. “I couldn’t believe how many people had seen that show.”

You nodded, knowing he could feel the motion from your head on his shoulder. “It won like forty Emmys, with good reason.”

“Alright, you have great taste,” Bob teased softly. “No need to rub it in.”

You laughed as the two of you tried to fit through the bedroom door at once, not quite small enough to make it through without some maneuvering. Once through, you rose up on your toes to press a kiss to Bob’s cheek.

“Thanks again,” you whispered. “For doing the costume thing.”

When you settled back on your heels, Bob followed you, his head ducking to capture your lips again.

It was one of your favorite things about Bob, that he kissed you just to kiss you, to say any number of things he meant, with simple affection. He broke the kiss softly, his forehead still against yours, and one of his hands tucked some of your hair behind your ear.

“You don’t have to thank me for doing something that makes you happy,” he said quietly, and your heart just melted. He was so special, so sweet without even trying.

“Love you,” you said simply, and Bob hummed, before kissing you again.

“Love you, too,” he said.

You stood there for a moment, smiling sappily at each other, before Bob laughed to himself. “Although, maybe next year, we go for a costume that I can wear more than once?”

“I mean,” you shrugged, looking at his costume appreciatively, “let the record show that I am all for you bringing this look out, unprompted, whenever you want.”

Bob chuckled. “I’ll bear that in mind. Come on, let’s get changed.”

He leaned in to kiss you again quickly, but your fingers tightened on the front of his robe when he pulled back, an idea streaking across your mind.

“Or…” you trailed off, not sure if you wanted to open the door, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth as you considered. Bob’s hand eased its way up the side of your neck, his thumb tracing across your lip until you released it.

“Or?” he prompted, quietly.

“Or you could keep it on,” you said in a rush.

Bob’s hand on your jaw stilled, and he pulled back slightly to look at your face. Whatever he saw had his eyes widening, his breath catching, and then his mouth curved into a small smile.

“Thought you were tired, honey,” he teased, his thumb brushing your cheek.

“I am,” you admitted, pausing. “But I know a good way to get me to sleep.”

Bob laughed against your skin, a fond sound, before bending down. His lips trailed warm kisses across your collarbone as his hands slipped behind you to undo the jumpsuit. You knew what he was doing, giving you time to decide if you wanted to get ready for bed or for sleep, since either would need you out of the jumpsuit, but your body responded to his touch without rationale. He hummed when you leaned into his touch and he pulled back to look at you.

“Incorrigible,” he said, and you smiled, unbothered.

“Is that a no?” you asked.

Bob’s fingers were still fiddling with the fastenings of the jumpsuit and you knew you could help him, but you liked how close he was, how his hands felt, how everything had felt since he opened the bathroom door hours ago, looking like this.

“It’s not a no,” he whispered. He got the final clasp and the garment fluttered down your body, pooling around your ankles.

Bob’s hands immediately smoothed over you, his touch warming your bared skin, and you shivered at the contrast. His long fingers ran up your sides, his broad palms settling over your breasts; you leaned into his touch as he lifted them, your eyes falling shut as you breathed his name.

“Tell me what you want, sweetheart,” Bob asked softly. “I know we watched the show together, but how much are you wanting this to draw from it—is this roleplay, just the idea, what–”

“Anything,” you whispered, your voice breathier than you expected. Bob’s hands tightened on you, at your eagerness, and when you looked up at him, you saw the desire in his expression.

“Okay,” Bob said, his voice soft, as he pressed another kiss to your lips, reassuring. “You just tell me if it’s too much, okay?”

You nodded, appreciating him checking in, but knowing you didn’t need it. You’d always been able to be honest with Bob, about what you needed or wanted, and you knew this wouldn’t be any different.

He lifted his chin, his eyes running down to your mouth as he licked his lips, before saying in a low voice, “Kneel.”

You whimpered.

Actually whimpered, a sound that ripped out of you at the perfect contrast of your doting boyfriend with the steely command from the show, one that brokered no discussion. Bob’s eyes darkened at the sound, but he raised an eyebrow, and you complied, sinking to the floor of your bedroom. You saw his jaw clench at the immediacy of your response, but that was the only indicator that he was affected, every other component of his expression radiating control.

“Good girl,” he said, and your lashes fluttered at his low tone. Bob’s nails brushed across your forehead as his fingers ghosted over the top of your head, settling at the back of your scalp.

“Or maybe not,” he said, in that same, low tone, a hint of unfamiliar condescension creeping in, “you got on your knees awful quick there, honey.”

Your head tilted back at his touch, one of your hands coming up to balance yourself by resting on the front of his thigh. Through the black cloth you could feel his strong thighs, tensing under the brush of your fingers, and when you looked back up at him, he was watching you through half-closed eyes.

“So pretty,” he said softly, almost to himself. “Take it out.”

You reached for him eagerly, finding the buttons in the robe and undoing them to find the loose slacks underneath. Your hands were nearly trembling with excitement as you felt the hot length of him through his trousers, and Bob drew in a sharp breath when your fingers brushed over his erection. Bulge was such an unglamorous word, but it was only accurate as you ran your hand over the length of him. You couldn’t help but lean forward to press a kiss against the straining material of the trousers.

Bob groaned quietly, a faint sound that streaked ribbons of heat through you, and you returned to your initial prerogative. When you finally pulled him free of the vestment, you sat back on your thighs, admiring his thick length in your hand. Long and broad, veins tracing up the side of it, a drop of moisture pearled at the tip, and you were practically salivating as you leaned towards him again.

Your hand angled at the base of his cock and you licked your lips as you leaned towards him, but Bob’s hand on your hair tightened, pulling you back. He held you in place and you looked up at him to see him shaking his head.

“Ask me nice,” he said, his hand tightening in your hair. His jaw was slack but his eyes were sharp as he watched you, wanting it as bad as you did, knowing how begging would make you feel.

“Want to taste you,” you whined, a breath away from him. You wanted the weight of him on your tongue, your lips stretching around him, your name on his moan when you made him feel good. “Please, Bobby.”

He shook his head, readjusting his grip on your hair.

“Who?” he asked, his voice low.

“Fuck,” you clenched your thighs together, as his words rolled over you. “Father,” you tried, and Bob groaned, a long low sound.

“That’s right, baby,” he gritted, and his hips snapped forward.

Your mouth had been open, tongue eager, but he pushed past your lips so quickly that you barely registered the salty taste of him on your tongue before his thick cock was pressing at the back of your throat. Tears pricked at your eyelids, but you hollowed your cheeks as Bob pressed into your throat, your hands steadying yourself on his thighs again.

You moaned around him, feeling your panties growing damp at the weight of him. He was so big, and he was trying to stay still, but his cock twitched in your mouth, little pulses that had your thighs quivering.

Bob pulled back, all the way out of your mouth, and you gasped in a breath of air when his cock pulled free. With his hand in your hair holding you steady, he traced your lips with his cock. The swollen head rubbed against your lips, your saliva ran between your mouth and his cock, messy.

“Baby, this mouth,” Bob moaned. “You gonna let me fuck it?”

“Please,” you whispered, another pulse of arousal going through you when your polite boyfriend swore, opening your mouth wider as Bob dragged his cock against it again.

“That’s what I thought you’d say,” Bob said, and he pushed back into you again.

You held your breath as he eased into you, stretching your jaw and pushing back into your throat. When he was seated, you heard him sigh, something breathy and beautiful, and you swallowed obediently. His hips jerked forward as you tightened around him, and his other hand came down to hold the side of your face.

“Doing so good for me, beautiful girl,” he praised softly, as he pulled back. He held you in place with his hands, his thighs pumping his cock into your open mouth, and your eyes filled with tears as he choked you on his cock.

He was so big, something you often forgot due to the gentleness with which he handled you, but when he got like this, it was unavoidable. His hands nearly spanned the back of your head, his thumbs coming forward to wipe your tears as they spilled out of your eyes, his large cock blocking air through your throat. You moaned as his thrusts got faster, knowing he loved this enough to be rough, to be wild for once, that your body was the vessel he was using for his pleasure.

When you looked up at him, he was looking down at you, his eyes dark and cheeks bright with color.

“Fuck, baby,” he panted, and you whined at the obsenity, “you’re taking me so well, honey, making me feel so good, that pretty lipstick stretched around my dick—”

Your head was swimming from the lack of air and his praise, and your hands tightened on his thighs, as his head fell back. He hit the back of your throat one more time, and another, and then he pulled out of you sharply, your body weaving when he let go of your hair. You looked up at him through streaming eyes, and Bob groaned looking down at you.

He moved fast, his hands hooking under your arms and practically dragging you over to the bed. You still felt hazy when you landed on your back, the comforter soft under your body, and a moment later Bob lowered his body over yours.

“Bet you’re all ready for me,” he said, his voice hoarse as his hand slotted between your legs. He jerked your underwear aside and you both groaned when one of his long fingers pulled through your folds. Bob’s head fell to your shoulder, and you felt him press a soft kiss there, even as shudder worked over his upper body.

“What got you this wet, huh, baby?” he asked, his voice muffled by your skin, his other hand reaching up to pull off his glasses and set them on the nightstand. “You like being on your knees for me this much? Feeling my cock in that pretty mouth, knowing how well it’ll fill this cunt?”

His fingers pulled through the moisture between your thighs, rubbing through you and teasing your entrance. You gasped when he dragged your arousal up to your clit, pressing tight circles around it as your back arched off the bed.

“Bobby, please, yes—”

He was gone a moment later, ripping your panties down your legs before he pulled you down to the edge of the bed, your legs hanging off of it as he stood between them. Your hair splayed around you, and you watched as he dragged his cock between your folds, still wet from your mouth. When he notched the head at your entrance, your head fell back, and he began to push it in. His hands gripped your hips, pulling you onto him, and you heard him breathing sharply through his nose, keeping himself under control.

“Baby,” he gritted, his hands gripping your hips as he pulled you onto him. “Feels as good as sin, this hungry pussy. So wet and tight, pulling me in like you need it...”

You moaned at his words, your hands flailing over the sheets, needing something to hold onto as Bob pushed himself home inside of you. You wanted to sob from the fullness of him inside you, how you could feel him through your whole body, practically feel his heartbeat.

“I do need it, I do,” you babbled, the stretch of him overwhelming and perfect. “Please, Bobby, move, I need you—”

“You’re doing so good, baby,” he whispered, and you reached for him blindly. You clutched at his chest, his shoulders, your hands curling into the robes and moaning when you remembered what he was wearing.

Bob laughed darkly, pulling his hips back slowly. His thick cock dragged against your warm walls and you could feel yourself clenching down on him, craving him.

“The robes are really doing it for you, huh, baby? Thinking of driving all the piety out of a man’s head because he needs this tight pussy more than he needs his god?”

His words were accompanied by a harsh thrust and you cried out as Bob picked up a brutal pace. His hips slapped into yours, his cock stretching you, and his hands tightened on your hips.

He leaned down to kiss you, his lips clashing against yours as he bent your legs back to reach deeper inside you.

“You like the thought of that, don’t you, baby,” he growled, his teeth dragging across your collarbone, “the thought of being so under a man's skin that he can’t wait a minute more without being buried inside of you? Needing to hear those sweet sounds you make while he’s fucking you, begging him to save you from the ache between your thighs?”

His cock was dragging into a deep part of you, brushing against a spot that had you seeing stars. Your legs were trembling from the tight angle but you thought you might die if he didn’t keep going, didn’t save you, just like he said.

You whimpered when his lips closed around your pulse point, biting enough to mark you, and Bob pulled back to look at you. His face was flushed, red and sweating, the most beautiful sight in the world.

“Love you like this,” you moaned, your legs shaking. “Fuck, Bobby, you feel so good, I need you—”

Bob groaned, his head falling beside yours as he rutted into your harder. His tight collar scaped against your neck and you wound your arms around his neck. As his thrusts pushed your body up the bed, his lips found yours again, dragging against you sloppily.

“No amount of holy wine could wipe the taste of you off my tongue, baby,” he gritted against your lips. “Need the sounds of my baby coming undone around my cock; ‘s better than anything else in the world.”

Your eyes rolled back as you clung to him. You felt like sobbing, you felt like your skin was on fire, like the only thing tethering you to this pane was the unrepentant press of his cock deep inside of you, his strong arms around you, his lips against you.

“Cum for me, honey,” he moaned, his voice sounding broken. “Make me sinner and saint, baby, let me feel it.”

You screamed, your back arching off the bed as your orgasm shattered over you. Your head lulled back, you felt the fabric of the robes rending between your fingers as you pulled desperately at Bob. Pleasure rolled over you, white hot and almost painful, all-encompassing and as close to holy as anything you knew.

Bob groaned as you tightened around him, your cunt pulsing as your orgasm wrecked you, pulling him with you.

“So good for me, baby,” he groaned, his hips pistoning faster, and you whined weakly, your body sensitive but needing this closeness, and his climax.

“Want to feel you, Bobby,” you whispered. “Please, baby, want your cum…”

His thighs were trembling and his chest was heaving against yours as he got closer. He ground his hips into yours, his fingers tight enough on your hips to bruise, his breath puffing into your shoulder.

“Asking me so sweetly, honey,” he gritted into your neck, “of course, anything for you, anything, baby, fuck—”

He came with a choked groan, his body tensing as he held himself over you, his hips bucking as he finished. You whimpered at the full feeling, his cock weakly fucking his cum into you, your combined climax leaking out of your core. The room was hot and Bob’s harsh breathing seemed to echo around it; you thought dazedly that that was your favorite sound in the world, the reminder that we was here, breathless, after being with you. He made to roll off of you, but you clung to him, wrapping your shaking legs around him and pulling him tightly to you.

The robes scratched against your chest, but we came willingly, turning slightly to wrap his own arms around you, holding you close.

“Beautiful girl,” he mumbled into your hair. His voice was so deep, so tender, and you drew in a breath, running your hands through his long hair. He nuzzled into you and your arms softened, loving the warmth that came from being with him.

After a moment, you felt his chest shake. You pulled back to look at him, confused to find him silently laughing, and Bob smiled at you gently, pushing some of your sweat-matted hair away from your face.

“That’ll be fourteen Hail Marys,” he teased, “and at least a dozen Our Fathers, don’t you think?”

You rolled your eyes and swatted at his shoulder but your boyfriend chuckled, rolling onto his back and pulling you with him.

“Worth it,” he whispered, his eyes bright and honest as he leaned up to kiss you again, soft and playful, "so damn worth it."

#Robert Bob floyd #Bob floyd smut #Bob floyd x reader #bob floyd x you #happy Halloween to ME #fleabag #misskielwrites

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sarahhudgins · 6 months

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I'm spending the evening curled up with a spooky book (Black River Orchard by Chuck Wendig). Will I stay up late to finish these last 200-ish pages? Probably. Will I be made at myself in the morning for not going to bed at a reasonable hour? Most definitely.

#200 pages to go has become my only 100 pages left #I always do this to myself #Happy Halloween to me #probably won't be eating apples for a while #haunted apple book #chuck wendig #black river orchard #booklr #bookworm #reader problems

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matoitech · 6 months

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well anyway time to think about five nights at freddy’s

#happy halloween to ME

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whitelacepants · 6 months

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hate being autistic because i literally cant like, fathom why anyone would lie?? especially if they say that they're your friend!! but maybe it's not the autism though, maybe im just stupid bc that's definitely how i feel right now.

#my best friend is a two faced liar u guys #happy halloween to me

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anonymousleekao3 · 6 months

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Ooh, ooh, I found some costumes! :D \o/ Yay!

#this is costume season after all #happy Halloween to me

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jay-wasstuff · 6 months

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Mike: is struggling financially and mentally

Vanessa: *throws his prescription medicine*

Edit: it's not just about whether Mike needed the drugs (which he didn't, i understand), it's about the fact SHE LITTERED and most likely polluted the river too.

#oh whats that? you been taking these on a regular schedule for the past 10+ years? nah you'll be fine going cold turkey :))#and these are only like $20-$50US+ a week or smt you'll be fine lol let me just litter this #fnaf movie spoilers #fnaf #fnaf movie #five nights at freddy's #mike schmidt #vanessa monroe #elizabeth afton #josh hutcherson #elizabeth lail #william afton #halloween #happy halloween #(btw idk usa sleeping prescription medication prices i just went off my research. but if you know lmk)

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anna-scribbles · 6 months

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vive la résistance and happy halloween!

#if i made any mistakes about the condiments please forgive me. i’m not french #happy halloween from comrade mayonnaise🤍#ml #miraculous ladybug #my art #adrien agreste #marinette dupain cheng #alya cesaire #nino lahiffe #mlb #my favorite line in this is nino saying ‘i’m gonna count to three’#guy with a little brother.#alya and nino having siblings and marinette and adrien being only children makes so much sense to me #happy halloween!!!!!!

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horsewizardart · 1 year

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#mlp #cutie mark crusaders #sweetie belle #apple bloom #scootaloo #sweetie belle is dressed as me on halloween 2008 #happy nightmare night #horsewizardart

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fallenneziah · 5 months

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Summary: Ghost's breeding instincts kick in on a cold night at the fire, and tension-turned arousal leaves you with one more body to feed.

CW: Dubcon, handjobs. Morbidly gross. Monsterfucking, Zombie! Ghost, breeding, cock swelling, deteriorating body parts, spit, Simon tries to be gentle, Ghost is there to breed. Cum inflation, cock warming. Slight angst. He tries to take care of you, but it's not really his main priority.

The zombie apocalypse has taken over the world. And you are stuck in the middle of nowhere. With no telecommunications, you were left to your own devices when your mission was sidetracked by the affected. You happened to be out with Simon when it happened, which ended in him getting bitten while you both were caught off guard.

And now you were stuck out here. Having moved from another safe haven from a lack of supplies and shelter.

Simon moaned from his broken maw, reaching out his hand lazily to the warm, crackling fire. His cold skin longed for warmth, the dark, bleak night providing you both no comfort. You gently moved his hand away, placing it back down. "Don't, You'll hurt yourself."

Simon moaned again, shifting and slouching, his glazed-over eyes staring into the fire hopelessly. Like he was lost. Feeling anxious again. He felt more anxious than you most times. But how could he not after the bite didn't fully rot away his brain?

The sound of wind and fire crackling filled the silence.

Simon huffed, his cold hand finding his slacks, still gazing into the fire as his palm dug against the seam along his crotch.

If he had done this when he was fully intact, you probably would have found it much hotter. But you knew Simon did this because he was anxious. You weren't entirely sure why he was anxious, but you gave him his space.

His hips shifted, whining against his palm while you pulled your jacket on tighter, feeling the fire whip and crackle.

‟Easy buddy, you're ok.”

Simon whined again, this time shifting his whole body as he pressed his palm harder into himself, almost like he wanted to tear his dick off. You got up and walked over to him, pulling his hand away. His head snapped at you, growling lightly. You ignored him, reaching over to rub his shoulders.

"It's alright, I'm here."

You felt him tense up a bit as you rubbed before he began to relax.

"I'll take care of you," you whispered, rubbing the back of his neck, making sure he could feel your touch. "Don't worry."

You reached down to his slacks and undid them, pulling down his zipper and letting his cock free from its confines.

He whined, squirming against your warm hand. You just wanted to help him. Seeing his swollen, puffy cock. Dripping with stagnant, thick white goo from the head of his cock. Black veins puffing out from the length and twitching.

You gripped it softly, feeling the cold, leathery skin in your hands. He moaned, eyes fluttering closed as he leaned back against the tree behind him. You rubbed the precum around with your thumb, feeling it stick between your fingers as you did.

You had to admit that it was kinda gross, but at the same time, you couldn't deny how much it turned you on.

Simon's glazed eyes followed you, trying to hump into your hand, needing the release. He was anxious, wirey, he wanted it out of him so badly. His instincts and his body told him.

Slowly sliding your hand up and down his cock, pulling the skin down over his head and then dragging back up. He moaned, his broken jaw lolling against the stretched skin. Watching with heavy, unfocused eyes as you stroked his puffy cock.

His cock twitched, dripping more ooze down the shaft.

"Good boy, Simon." You said softly, continuing to rub him. "Just let it all out."

Simon's breathing quickened, his hips moving erratically, trying to get as much friction as he could. His head lolled to one side, a cold hand grabbing your shoulder, the warmth of your palm was intoxicating him. He wanted you so badly. His cock desperately weeping from build-up and frustration.

You tried to keep him still, but he still struggled each way he wanted. His broken jaw hung, and moans flooded from his exhausted, deteriorating vocal cords.

He whined.

His hips jerked again, and you knew he was close.

You continued to stroke him, feeling the heat build in your stomach, making you feel flushed and warm. His glazed eyes searched around, humping your hand with vigour, breathing heavily, one hand digging his blunt, black nails into the dirt.

You squeezed the head of his cock, your thumb rubbing the leaking precum around so it would flow freely.

"Let it all out. Just release."

He whined, his cock twitching and bobbing as you squeezed the head tightly.

"Just let it all out. I'm here to help you, Simon."

The pressure built, his cock throbbing against your hand.

Spurting from the head in a stream of thick, white goo. He moaned and squirmed, gasping for air as his body slowly let him relax. The cum dripped from his cock to the ground, a large puddle growing around it.

His eyes fluttered, looking at you with a glazed expression. His cock didn't go down at all, oozing a little more. His fist came up, dirt-covered hand grabbing your wrist, pulling you toward him, craning his head up toward you. You leaned back a little, his cold breath coming out ragged. His thumb ran over your bottom lip, looking at you with an almost human expression. One he'd been lacking for months.

He let out another inhuman noise that strained your heart. He pulled away again, his cock still desperately hard for your warmth. He wanted you. He's always wanted you. And yet he's ended up here. He released your hand, palming his crotch again as if telling you to leave. That you could go now.

You were tempted to pull away. You could leave him. Let him deal with himself. But, you also didn't want to do that.

You sighed.

"Alright. You win." You said, getting up and going over to your pack.

You sat back by the fire. Pulling out a ration of canned food, cracking it open and pouring it into the old pot you had rummaged from an abandoned house.

Simon watched you from by the tree. His insides wanted you so badly. His cock twitched, throbbing from being unattended. He wanted you. Your warm hand on his cold, dead skin. He felt no warmth anymore, and he wanted it. He craved it.

And his resolve crumbled quickly when he found himself struggling with the open buckle of his tattered military pants. Crawling over to you and whining, nuzzling against your side.

He couldn't communicate, only make those horrible, grotesque noises.

But you understood what he wanted. You knew he was begging you to help him.

His cock dripping, humping his cock into the air, just shy of your body. You looked at how desperate he was. Gurgling and whining, fists clenching in the dirt. You reached out, wrapping your hand around his cock again, but you could tell he wanted more.

His cock twitched, pulsating, desperate for attention. He grabbed the pot, throwing it aside as he climbed onto your lap, straddling you. He pushed your head up, forcing your gaze to his face. His eyes were still glossy, his jaw hanging, his face still grey and rotten.

He was still dead.

But you knew what he was doing. He was trying to be dominant.

You didn't fight back, allowing him to lead.

He held his cock in his hand, stroking it, moaning as the head rubbed against your lips. You opened your mouth, feeling the cold, leathery skin on your tongue.

He was shaking as you found yourself sucking on his cock. Letting his precum dribble down your throat, making your throat burn. His cock grew, throbbing against your tongue and the back of your throat.

He was gentle, forcing you down further on his cock, making your throat bulge.

You gagged, your eyes watering, your throat burning.

And he released your head, letting you up for air.

You coughed, taking stock of the situation. He'd forced you down.

You relaxed, letting him push you back down again. And again.

A warm, wet place to empty himself. And he needed it. Badly.

In the back of your mind, you knew that he didn't mean to be forceful. He was just so desperate to get his human warmth. To get his sexual release. He didn't know what he was doing. He was just following his instincts.

His cock glistened in the firelight, throbbing as it leaked that thick, white goo.

He tugged your hair, moaning as you felt his cock press against the back of your throat. He wanted to cum. He wanted to flood your mouth with his dead, thick cum.

You gagged, pulling off his cock. You'd never gone blowjob far with him before. You just jerked him off or let him hump you, never actually sucked him. He didn't seem to mind, taking this as permission to fuck your face.

His cock stayed firm, the head brushing against your lips as he jerked his hips.

"Come on," you said, swallowing his precum, "cum for me."

You opened your mouth, letting him push the head of his cock inside. It was big. Bigger than anything you'd ever taken. His hand fell to one side again, his helmet slipping a little, tight slacks pulling up his thighs, boots chaffing his ankles. He growled hollowly, another orgasm spurting from his cock across your face and into your mouth.

You probably should have been prepared for it to taste disgusting, but you hadn't.

You gagged a little, spitting it out as much as you could, having to swallow the rest, your eyes watering a bit from the taste.

He moved one leg off you, you attempted to roll over and get up, but he grabbed your belt. You grunted as he pulled you to the ground, dragging you back over to him. He leaned over you, hooking his leg back over your thighs, cock pressing to your ass. His hands dug into your stomach, pulling you back up into him. Getting you under him, he blindly and desperately tries to find your belt.

You're not sure how to react.

He finally grabs your belt and starts yanking it, trying to force you onto your hands and knees.

"S-Simon… what are you doing?"

He grunted, yanking again.

You pushed him away.

"Simon! No!"

He grabbed your shoulders, forcing you back down.

He's too strong. You can't stop him.

You've always thought about this with him. But you were more worried about him in this form. Of what.. could happen. Worried about possible repercussions. But he kept you down, finding the buckle and struggling to get it off.

He whined, trying to tell you to relax, that you'd be okay, and he just needed this once, but he couldn't. He held you down, getting your pants down over your ass, cold hand digging under your panties, your scent filling him.

Simon had smelled your arousal before, but now it was closer. He could smell the arousal in your thighs and the warmth of your pretty cunt.

It made him want you. Made him feel a desire for you.

He was a bit clumsy, fumbling around and trying to get a grip on his dick.

You whimpered, reaching back and pushing his hand away.

His fingers wrapped around his cock, giving you a final chance to stop him. You whimpered, hoping he'd let this go.

But he couldn't. His cock grew, throbbing, pressing against your ass. He held you down, letting you know he wasn't going to let you go. You were his. His toy. His anything.

The head slipped into you, your soaking wet labia spreading around his cock.

He held still, cock throbbing and leaking precum. You let out a gasp of air, pain running through your body.

Simon whined in reply, wanting you to relax. To be ok. He wanted to breed you. He needed to fuck you so badly. The warmth of your insides was so intoxicating that he needed it. But he could tell you were struggling. He wanted to comfort you in any way he could.

He didn't dare try to push himself in further, his cock was throbbing and sensitive, and he didn't want to hurt himself. You didn't want to do this right now, but he needed a release. And you knew it would make him happy to cum. He'd be more docile afterwards.

He pulled out, rubbing the head against your clit, your body shuddering.

He knew this was what you wanted. He pulled out, body shaking as he grabbed your hips, pulling you back against him. He pushed in again, grunting from the pleasure of feeling you, the warmth pressing to him.

He pushed into you, groaning as your tight walls pressed to him. He could feel every fold of your insides, every irregular surface. His cock throbbed, his body growing hot and cold at the same time.

He pulled out, groaning as your wetness dragged over his head and pulled you back into him. His cock thrusting, the warmth and wetness of you pulling at him. He could feel every inch of you throbbing against you.

He pulled out, groaning as your body brushed his cock. And rammed into you, your wetness coating him.

"S-Simon… don't…"

He grunted, slamming into you. Your cervix was the only thing left keeping him out. You moaned around his cock, back arching as his speed increased. His blunt fingernails dug into your hips, head lolling, grunting and making grotesque noises as his cock fucked deep into your cunt.

You knew you couldn't keep him away, and the way he plunged into you, brushing the sweet bud deep inside you slowly unravelled you.

His body was rigid, the only thing he was concerned about was getting off.

He didn't care how many times he came, or how many times he'd cum on you. All that mattered was fucking his cock into your cunt.

"Simon!"

He slammed into you again, grunting. You moaned, head falling forward, your pussy dripping with arousal. You could barely control yourself, feeling your orgasm building up inside you. His cock hit you right where you needed it. As if he knew you in and out.

Simon could smell your arousal. He could practically smell your orgasm.

His cock pulsated inside you, his eyes rolling into the back of his head.

Your legs quivered, feeling your orgasm approaching.

His hands squeezed your hips, cock pounding into you, hitting your g-spot.

"Simon! I'm…"

He slammed in again, his tip brushing your cervix, your body tensing up, legs shaking.

Your body shook as you squirted, coating his cock with your juices.

The smell made his head swim, his hands digging into your hips. He fucked you harder, his cock losing control. Your pussy tightened, pulling at Simon's cock, spasms running through your body, hot fluids flowing.

His cock throbbed, pulsating as it slapped against your pussy.

You rolled your head, moaning and rolling in pleasure as he slammed into you harder.

And he held you there, his orgasm tearing through him. His arms quivered as he pushed into you, cum spurting deep inside you as his orgasm hit.

Your breathing was ragged, hips falling into his with each thrust.

He snarled and moaned with a hollow tone against your ear, breathing harsh, fingernails digging in deeper. He pressed you to the cold ground, hips plunging deep inside you without remorse.

You cried, your legs locking again as he drove you insane.

His cock pumped cum deep inside you, coating your insides.

He panted, his cock twitching as the last of his cum dripped from his cock.

Your legs were shaking, his cock twitching, still buried deep in you. He held you there. Your head fell to the dirt, tilting back to look at him. He stared off into nothing, whining and then looking down at you.

He laid down, cock still deep inside you as his chest pressed to your back. He laid his head in the crook of your neck, gurgling softly. An apology.

You sighed, reaching back and running your hand over his cold cheek.

"I-It's okay… I understand."

His breath hitched, his jaw brushing your neck. He was scared.

You gently took his hand, placing it on your stomach. "We'll figure it out. We'll work it out together."

He whined softly, nuzzling his face against yours. Nestling you close, staring into the still crackling fire as you rested on the cold ground. His cock was warm inside you, and he had zero intention of leaving so quickly.

#eh im not so sure im happy with it #was supposed to be another thing for halloween but it just feels weird to me #as always let me know if it sucked or if it didn't #dont read into it too much #simon ghost riley #cod smut #simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #cod mw2 #simon ghost riley x female reader #simon ghost riley x reader smut #call of duty #zombie ghost #call of duty zombies #zombie ghost x reader

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inkskinned · 6 months

Text

for the longest time my family used to host one of the biggest haunted houses on my block: elaborate, themed amateur haunts that pearled out along our lawn for one-night-only. spinning circus wheel-of-terrors and walkthrough alien crash-landings and spiders that arched over our driveway, leaking venom onto your feet.

we didn't have a lot of money; and honestly i don't know how we afforded what we did have. there were not going to be pneumatics or projectors or any supply over 20 dollars - and even 20 was a stretch. we were lucky, and we lived in a town that had a "swap shed", where people would drop off any banged-up-but-usable items that they wanted to get rid of. the whole year, my family would pick over someone else's discarded fans and lights and weird decorations, asking each other - what do you think? for halloween?

we would strip the motors out of rusted fans and spraypaint vases and saw broom handles in half and apply a very thick coat of cardboard and duct tape to everything. for our pirate year, i made the mistake of individually drawing woodgrain onto each strip of cardboard that made up the ship. i then gently painted and distressed the "boards" so they'd each have lichen and cracks and unusual patterns. i hid eyes in the knots and shaped skulls. you couldn't see any of it in the dark, even under our "spotlight" (someone's target-branded workshop flashlight).

i have a lot of very strange skills as a result. i know how to make a flying ghost appear both physically and in the mirror. i know how to make a witch's brew that stirs itself. i know how to burn and cut and paint until there is an iron throne you can sit on, or an alien brushing your ankles, or a hearse trundling along. i can't say we ever made it beyond our local newspapers, but we tried so hard that the town would regularly shut down our street.

i can't put any of these skills on a resume, and i haven't been able to put them to use for a while. i live in an apartment, there's no lawn for me to decorate. for years i've wanted to do an alice in wonderland theme, and have been collecting ideas like coins in a fountain. at other houses, i am transfixed by 12 foot skeletons and paper mache spooky lanterns; easily wooed by the knowledge of how much time people put in.

someone asked me once - so what was the point? and why didn't you guys charge anything to show up?

in truth, we probably needed the money. for years there, we were a 1-meal-a-day kind of a family. i was being polite earlier up in this essay: we furnished both our house and our halloweens using things left a recycling center. we live in new england and still didn't turn on the heat until the end of november, no matter how low the temperature.

every year we would collect donations for unicef and other charities. on an average year, we would collect enough to pay for our food for weeks. every year, without fail: we donated every penny.

this endeavor took months to plan and design and execute. we had to organize any volunteers and check safety and hope-for-the-best. it took at least 24 hours to set up, a week to take down. the motors and fans and lights all had to be packed tight. the cardboard would scatter, pangea in the rain and sleet. i remember picking up a plank from that pirate ship, the paint blown clear off, all my hard work completely erased. a new kind of driftwood.

if this was a poem, and not a memory, i could wrap this up prettily. i could say that these skills landed me a cool job in the haunting industry or that it taught me the value of friendship and responsibility. but i actually think it's something better, something very pretty: there wasn't ever a moral to it.

the night was a long one. yes, there were assholes, people who broke stuff. but mostly it was just kids like us in cardboard costumes, dressed as an incredibly niche kind of truck. good parents who were friendly and laughing. teenagers who slunk in at late hours, wide-eyed and secretly delighted; who asked us can i help next year? like, do y'all take volunteers, or whatever? every year more people came, and told their friends, and offered to pay. and every year we said maybe next year and meant absolutely never.

we did it because it was enough to love something, and to make that love visible. we did it because there is very rarely an excuse to have fun. i think maybe especially, for me - we did it because every year, there was one first "customer" somewhere around 3-4PM, while we were still putting on the final touches. the sun would still be up, and we were frazzled and always-running-late, and these kids saw our vision unfinished in the bright light of day.

something about their parents murmuring say thank you and telling my mom this setup is so sweet while this little kid would grin up at us, dazzled by our artistic mediocrity. the fall air and the chill and their coat-over-a-panda-princess-costume. that first phrase of the night awkwardly managed over a pair of overly-large vampire teeth: a beautiful and excited trick or treat!

#wholesome #happy halloween #writeblr #just something to maybe warm ur heart in these times #my parents also usually let me take nov 1st off #this is the first year in like 20 years im not taking it off bc it became like a family holiday #i regret not taking it off but alas. capitalism.

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