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v1x3n · 16 hours

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fishsinsareacknowledged · 3 days

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Ghost who loves to bury his head in your stomach, arms forcing you to wrap your legs around his broad chest like a pillow as he starts to doze off. He doesn't make any sound other than those soft grunts but with the way his eyes closing slowly, a soft look in his eyes it's as if he's purring. Rough hands absentmindedly run up and down whatever he can reach as if he owns the skin- owns you, rubbing your sides until he suddenly stops and the snores start, loud and comfortable.

TL:DR Ghost loves being used as a pillow and vice versa

#cod ghost #simon ghost riley #ghost cod #simon ghost x reader #ghost #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #ghost x y/n #hcs #cod #call of duty #call of duty x reader

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metallictastinglifesupportliquid · 1 day

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Ghost, drunk: I don't give a damn about sin Y/N, also drunk: Yeah me neither, fuck trigonometry

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yawnderu · 2 days

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Sharing an air bnb with Nikto during mandatory leave because you trust each other. Finally getting to see his face, cuddling in a big jacuzzi tub.

Gaining Nikto's trust wasn't easy. The behemoth of a man had a fragmented mind, too broken from Zakhaev's torture, and yet the utmost effort you put into getting to know him proved fruitful after months.

“Jesus fuck. Put that thing away, Misha.” Your attempts at shielding your eyes are met with a laugh, feeling the water shift around your body, a mass of pure warm muscle pressing on your side.

“... Is it hidden now?” His eyes crinkle, the smile of pure amusement hidden beneath his mask. Nikto doesn’t feel uncomfortable with nudity, and while joining you in the jacuzzi only happened because of the vodka warming his stomach up and giving him liquid courage, he was enjoying your reaction.

“Да. You can look now.” Your fingers part in front of your eyes, glancing up at him before looking down, a sigh of relief leaving your lips when you realize the bubbles are covering his lower body.

“I wasn’t expecting to be greeted by… cock.” Despite the initial surprise, there’s nothing but pure mirth dancing with your words. You feel his arm drape over your shoulder, pulling you closer, the smell of hard liquor hitting your nose, explaining why he’s being touchier than usual.

“You’re welcome.” Despite how unpleasant and rowdy Nikto can be, your company served as a soothing balm, a small break from all the chaos going on in his head. There’s hesitation in his actions as he reaches towards the straps of his mask, his fingers stilling for a few seconds, your curious eyes looking up at him with an innocence that he finds endearing.

“I take it off sometimes.” Not exactly a lie, yet not exactly the trust either— Nikto does remove his mask, though never in the presence of anyone else. The fear of getting judged for his face scars will always be there, and it took him months to gather the courage to even think about showing it to you.

The straps of his mask are removed with little to no effort, yet he doesn’t fully remove the mask yet. You can see the fear and doubt dancing within his light blue eyes as he holds the rough material, the only barrier between both of you. “I’m not going to judge, if that’s what you’re worried about.” Your reassurance is accompanied by your hand running up and down his back, gentle caresses that he never allowed himself to receive from anyone, until you came along. It seemed to be the only confirmation he needed, as the mask slips off, placed on a table nearby before he finally turns to look at you.

You admire his features for the first time, your eyes running all over his face for a few seconds. Nikto has a slightly crooked nose —likely from being broken one too many times—, the skin on his face more pale than the rest of his body, and the scars lingering all over his face. They look like chemical burns, running from his chin, up to his forehead, his skin tainted in a light red color.

“You look pretty.” Pretty. The word almost makes him scoff, his gaze drifting around the jacuzzi before looking back at you, pure vulnerability in his expression.

“I’m serious.” You insist, leaning closer to him before your wet hand reaches up, cupping his cheek. The suddenness of your actions is almost enough to make him flinch, and yet he decides to stay still, a part of him craving the praise after so many years of being lonely, of being broken.

Your thumb runs along his skin, being extra careful with his scars, even if they no longer hurt physically. The reverence in your eyes mirrors his, nothing but pure trust and worship displayed in your actions. Your soft finger runs across his cracked bottom lip, taking your time to continue admiring his features before he closes the distance, his lips crashing against yours.

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dollhues · 1 day

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simon "the missus needs me" riley

#yes he would ditch and drop everything for the missus #or would just make that excuse and is actually the one who needs the missus.#his missus.#simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #call of duty x reader #cod x reader #fat reader #chubby reader #plus size reader

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lupikekee · 1 day

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Half the campus knows both of you as rivals. As they say, action speaks louder than words. Every interaction you've had with him are either passive aggressive or just straight up roasting eachother.

"You're so fucking edgy that even those people who made those 2014 alpha wolf memes would cringe at you." You rolled your eyes at him. His eyebrow cocked and he scoffed at your insult, he couldn't even bother to reply to you. Seems like a nerve was hit.

But when night falls however...

"Hey babe.. baby? You know how I said you're edgier than those cringe 2014 alpha wolf memes this morning?? You know I didn't mean it.. you're like... Super hot when you're emo." You mumbled into his chest, snuggling your head to get comfortable. Feeling his chest rumble with quiet laughter at your nonchalance confession.

"Yeah? And I didn't mean it when I said you're dumber than a 1960s dusty vintage coin purse. Well.... Most of the times you're not." He quietly muttered out. Earning a defensive "hey!" from you before you both burst out into fits of giggles, only under the dark sky when nobody's watching. <3

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all-purpose-dish-soap · 2 days

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im not sure what it ia, but i LOVE the little remora. i love it i love it i lvoe it

it makes me insane id love to groom ghosts scales, and everyone elses scales. i want to clean soap up, even if he see's poor ol remora as a toy to play with, i just wanna scrub them all up!

(i love this already. i love mer's)

the more shark mer Ghost pushes you away the more you wanna take care of him so so bad <3

you find yourself pouting a lot at Ghost’s surly attitude, darting up and down his big scarred body, as he tries to nap. tries to, but can’t.

it has nothing to do with you. he has these bouts of insomnia. but they make his temper real short.

regardless! you insist he needs to let you groom him. it’s been days. you get twitchy when he makes you skip your daily grooming with him. the rituals. the rituals are intricate.

“i’m trying to rest, you little pest,” he growls. "come back later. or not at all."

you tell him (tartly) that he said that yesterday and the day before.

“i meant it then and i mean it now. go away before i decide to chase you off.”

like he would. he hardly exists during the day as anything but a grumpy seafloor log. you swear you’ve seen bottom-feeders start nibbling on him he’s so inert.

(nibbling on him is your job.)

you settle down on the sand next to him on your stomach. you don't touch him yet, but he's just within reach. you stare at his pale, scarred sharkshin with bright eyes, practically vibrating in place.

he can feel your eyes on him. worse—he can feel the impatient flicking of your tail fin agitating the water as you stare at him. how can such a small creature be so terribly full of want, he wonders. your anxious energy is like too much salt in his gills.

“i will bite you," he warns. “i’m not in the mood.”

rationally, you know he doesn't like to be touched sometimes, no matter how you insist he'll feel better once he's clean. and still your anxious mind won't calm down until you're absolutely sure you've made yourself useful.

you lay your palms on the silt, fingers inching silently closer to him.

he growls, low and dangerous. the one that means he’s run out of patience and is about to make good on his threats.

you jolt and flatten yourself against the sand in instinctive submission. you’re not a threat, see? you’re harmless. you’re basically just a little piece of seaweed, c’mon.

your instant compliance does nothing to calm him. if anything, the sight of your immediate surrender drives him to double down.

he grabs you by the by the nape of your neck and lifts you up to eye level. “i warned you not to touch me.”

your stupid little heart leaps because all his attention is on you now. you want to wrap your hands around his eagerly, want to reach out and touch his chest. but you can only get close enough to skim his chest with your clawtips.

the sensation only makes him tense.

you quickly bring your hands in and wring them, trying to stop being a bother. "please can i—"

he glares down at you, teeth bared. “no,” he snaps. cold, firm, immediate.

but the more he tries to repel you, the more desperately you want to please him. to get back into his good graces. you feel every bit the creature full of anxiety and neuroses he thinks you are--always trying to figure out how to feel useful and stay on the other mers' good side.

he can see that in your eyes—the desperate need to be useful. it’s what he hates most about you. he can't stand how compliant you are at this moment. how desperate. how eager you are to please even after he's been nothing but cruel to you.

he squeezes you. your body thrums nervously in his grip.

“you little parasite. what part of ‘don’t touch me’ is so hard for you to understand?”

all of it. you stare up at him with big, blank eyes.

“you can't get the simplest instructions through your thick skull, can you?"

you shake your head (kind of, best you can) in his grip as a shameless display of agreement. he’s right, you’re stupid. so stupid.

Ghost scowls. eager, willing to degrade yourself at the smallest fucking thing.

"don't tell me you're getting off on this.”

okay! you won’t.

at that, you see the look in his eye shift from anger to something more devious. your response is so quick and willing that he can't help but smirk.

of course. of course you’d comply. no matter how hard he pushes, how cruel he is, you simply ask for worse. you're a little masochist. a nuisance. worse, you’re his nuisance. you insist on being around him, on seeking him out every bloody day.

he tolerates your presence. that's more than anyone else gets. and you take the precious little patience he gives you and wear it threadbare??

he can’t abide that. he can’t let your audacity go unchecked.

"look at you," he hisses. "eager to debase yourself at the first sign of anger. don't you think that's just pathetic?"

you nod enthusiastically.

mindless creature. willing to let him treat you any way he wants if it means attention. pitiful.

"say it," he growls.

you do. you happily tell him you’re pathetic.

“that you are. finally, something sensible out of that pretty mouth.”

you’re wired—fucking blitzed at the mere implication of good girl in his tone.

“and you're my little parasite. mine to do with as i please."

your whole body wants to curl in delight, your tail twisting like an eel in the sand below you as he eases you onto your back.

his eyes rake over you. you are the picture of obedience and submission, all pinned down and ready.

“look at you,” he rasps. “so desperate to please me. you’d do anything i tell you right now, yeah?”

yes. yes. anything.

he leans in and puts his mouth to your ear. "then let me sleep."

then he’s gone.

you lay in the sand in blank, sexually charged confusion.

by the time you slap your tail into the sand to twist yourself up into the water, half-flustered and hot-tempered, you see the ends of Ghost’s chewed-up tailfins disappear into his favorite dark cave.

before you can give chase, the familiar shape of Soap passes overhead, and he's chuckling as he dives down to you.

Soap’s grin widens as he watches your face cycle through frustration, confusion, and irritation.

you can’t believe Ghost would do that to you.

“of course he’d do it,” Soap says. he saw the whole thing.

you bluster and he coos a little teasing sympathy at you, ushering you up into his arms instead. poor wee cuttlefish, he calls you. lays it on thick because he knows you're looking for a place to expend all that pent up energy now.

he whisks you away somewhere more private so you can tend to him instead. groom him all you want. tell him your troubles. maybe let him make good use of your compliant nature. he tells you it’s a good way to make Ghost jealous.

meanwhile, Ghost is finally able to snooze contentedly, dreaming of you, maybe. he does owe you a little thanks for that small catharsis you gave him.

...

more mer au / more Ghost / masterlist tag

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cntloup · 2 days

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medieval au you finally find out what your husband does

"does it bother you?" you ask as you lay in your husband's arms, "what?" he asks, peering down at you, confusion written on his face.

"that i was... a prostitute." you respond, lifting your head from his chest and gazing into his gorgeous brown eyes as realization settles in them.

"no." he replies with a slight shake of his head, "no?!" you question in a surprised tone.

"no." he repeats, "what bothers me is the fact that you had to do it, the circumstances that forced you into it."

"and i assure you..." he continues, "that you never have to do that again. in fact, you will never have to even lift a finger as long as i'm here."

"simon..." you call out breathily, a dreamy smile painting your face and he pulls you in for a sweet kiss.

as soon as your lips meet, the sound of footsteps and metal clanging in the distance reach your ears.

he's on high alert and instinctively shields you from any possible danger, his large body covering yours as he faces the door, ready to jump at whoever dares to attack him and his wife.

"stay here." he whispers to you and reaches to take his sword beside the bed, "simon? what's happening?" you ask, frightened and confused.

he turns to you as he reaches the bedroom door, "don't make any sound. whatever happens, whatever you hear, you stay here and keep quiet."

"wha-" you start and he shushes you, "under the pillow." he says, gesturing for you to look.

your hand reaches under his pillow and you take the dagger hidden there, "use it if necessary." he says and leaves the room.

you squeeze your eyes shut as your hands tightly hold onto the dagger, crying silently in utter fear.

the sound of shouting and swords clanging against one another and bodies falling and hitting the floor fill the house.

and you pray, although not religious, you pray to whomever there is above listening, that no harm comes to him.

after what feels like an eternity of terror, he enters the room, "we have to go." he informs you while clutching his abdomen as he bleeds into his shirt and hand.

"oh my god, simon!" you rush to his side and remove his hand to take a look at the wound.

he winces as you remove the part of his shirt that was stuck to the wound, "sorry." you apologize.

your eyebrows furrow and you wince in pain, as if you can feel it as you glare at the deep wound.

"you know how to sew?" he asks, "i've got it." you utter and leave to bring your sewing kit, trying so hard to keep your composure and not scream in his face asking what the fuck just happened. he's hurt and he's your priority right now.

you guide him to sit on the bed and sew him up with your delicate hands, shedding silent tears as you think about how you nearly lost him, and the amount of blood frightens you, "don't worry, love. it's nothing. i've had worse." he says, wiping away the tears running down your cheeks and you scoff at his attempt to lighten the mood.

you finish patching him up and place a clean cloth over the wound.

"we have to go now. there has to be more coming." he says and you help him to get up as you witness him struggling.

"go where? who even were they?" you ask in frustration, you still have no idea what it is all about, "i'll tell you on the way. now pack up your stuff." he replies monotonously, only adding to your frustration, but you stay cool and obey.

he informs the lads of the attack and you all gather in a large ship... which is your husband's apparently. there's a whole lot you don't know about him.

"you're a bloody pirate?!" you shout with widened eyes, surprised and angry and all the emotions in between.

"...yes." he mutters, "and there's a prize on my head."

"what?! simon, what the hell?! when were you gonna tell me??!" you start shouting in his face and slapping his chest, unleashing all the anger and frustration you felt.

"i wasn't planning on it." he responds, his nonchalance only fueling the fire of your rage towards him as you huff and puff, glaring daggers at him and pacing the length of the ship.

"i know it's a lot to take in-" he starts, only for you to cut him off, "damn right it is." you snarl, but immediately take a deep breath to cool yourself down, "but it's not your fault."

"i'm sorry, simon. i know i overreacted." you apologize as you walk up to him and embrace him while keeping wary of his injury.

"not at all, love. you have every right to." he says, wrapping his big burly arms around you and taking you in his loving embrace.

"you need to rest." you murmur, looking up at him, "only if you stay with me." he whispers, slowly leaning in, "always." you say and capture his lips with yours, both smiling widely into the kiss.

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i-love-you-just-the-same · 2 days

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god i feel rough (failing delusionship) so let's do a quick little reaction to giving the 141 little gifts

you and soap regularly sit around and watch your favorite movies. gives you guys something extra to talk about while out in the field. most of them military related like American sniper or some really stupid comedies like the Hangover. A long time favorite of both of yours is the Office, though. So when you're on leave and see one of those stupid Dunder Mifflin keychains, you don't even think twice about getting it for him. When you're back and give it to him, Johnny gets real quiet and puts it on his keys. Gives you a little kiss to your temple and turns on one of your favorite episodes. Keeps you in his arms for awhile after that, platonically of course, bonnie.

ghost and you don't really talk much. you're both together a lot though, existing in each other's orbit. he does paperwork, cleans his guns, stitches up a new mask, whatever. you work on a new hobby, watch YouTube, sleep, or yap into the void. nevertheless, you two are very close. imagine simon's surprise one day as you two sit, your back against his shoulder, as you finish up a friendship bracelet for him. intricate little heart design. you hold it out to him in offering with a little smile, a bit too cautious for his taste. holds his wrist out, lets you put it on him. doesn't say much, but notices you made yourself a matching one. takes it, puts it on your wrist, and brings it to where his mouth is under his mask. little peck. best gift he's ever gotten, birdie. goes back to his work, but it becomes his fidget toy. inspects your wrist when he sees you without yours, brows furrowed. follows you around like a little lost puppy until you confirm that yes, simon, everything's fine.

gaz is baby. he loves spending time with you around base. your room is next to his, making it is easy for you two to meet up and have a nice time. however, his time in the military has made him harder and more forgetful to civilian celebrations and traditions. so when you two are sitting on night watch and you pull out a little cake with happy birthday gaz written on it, he remembers fond memories of a time before. loves you for bringing good memories to his forefront. shares with you, feeding you with his fork. pinkies linked as you watch the sunrise.

gruff old man price won't accept much. he's got a lot on his plate, doesn't need much else going on around him. however, when his favorite little sergeant stops by with a little treat and a cigar for him, he's gooey. all pleasant smiles, wonderful manners, asking about your day. hides his emotions when you mention a pesky little flea on another squad has been bothering you. don't worry, darling, you don't know it but he'll take care of it (if one of his boys doesn't first).

they'd be jealous of eachothers attention on you if they didn't feel the exact same way. pretty little thing, only for them.

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forsworned · 17 hours

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It’s said canonically that simon riley has trauma around intimacy from torture 😔 If you feel comfortable writing it, can I please ask for a short fic of an Afab reader body worshipping/lovingly pleasuring Simon after they both work through his trauma and he’s getting all soft and emotional and babbling about how good reader is making him feel and how much he loves them and can’t believe someone cares about him this much? I always liked the idea of Simon being portrayed as vulnerable and soft and not this dom sex god a lot of people portray him to be. I really love your work and would love to see your take on this request :)

Soft ft. Simon 'Ghost' Riley

Author's Note: So I do recall someone making a post about this and I have to say I do not agree with everything. Men definitely process trauma, specifically sexual trauma a lot differently than women do. While women experience guilt, men experience anger. And maybe it's not all men who experience it that way, but after reading the comic and making my own assessment, I can say that Simon does have lingering anger. Of course, he is hell-bent on avenging his dead family, but all that pent-up energy could be going toward trying to even the score. He is pretty level-headed and able to compartmentalize. He has support from his comrades as well as undergoes mandatory rigorous mental health assessments because that's military protocol. He needs to be able to perform his duties on the field without putting himself or others at risk. He also most certainly gets mandatory counseling. Although he may be reluctant, his superiors are very much aware of the possible impact that it has on his mental health. So all that to say that Simon is not without help. He is not as "damaged" as people may perceive him to be. He's not a broken individual. As seen in the remastered MW's, albeit reluctant he can clearly put his trust in others. He develops relationships with the people who he works closely with meaning he is capable of change. SIGH. I just wish people would break this down a little more, but I do get what you're saying. His masculinity, trust issues, and the type of secret operations he goes on can lessen the effectiveness of the therapy. He's definitely a very complex character with layers to him, but I just don't think he's as weak as you may think he is. It's also important to note that it hasn't been confirmed that this current Simon went through the same thing. He could have a completely different background. Honestly, Activision is so fucking inconsistent but ANYWAYSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS I hope you enjoy this. Also if you read this all the way through, I applaud you. But thank you for enjoying my work, I didn't mean to critique you and your request, but I just couldn't let it slide LOL

Warnings: PnV sex, AFAB!Reader, Some Canon Simon Lore, Sexual Content, Mentions of Sexual Trauma

"Si—Simon..."

You sigh out in pleasure with every roll of your hips as you grind down on him. Your clit grazes against his lower abdomen, and his cock stretches you out pliant. Fingers dig into his shoulders, marking half crescents into his pale, scarred skin. But something feels off.

His hands loosen their grip on your hips, and upon opening your eyes you find him his half-lidded gaze distant in a familiar haze. He isn't present.

"Simon." You halt the rutting of your hips, cupping his stubbly cheeks. "Are you alright?"

His onyx hues fixate on you. He is clearly readjusting his withdrawn eyes to refocus on you. You didn't want to say it yet, but you had felt him go a little soft a few seconds prior. "We can stop."

"No, no." His fingers squeeze your middle as he sits up a bit. You shake your head, but he's not letting up. "Why stop?"

You firmly grasp his face and his blonde lashes flutter up at you with a seemingly unreadable expression, but you're no stranger to Simon's detachment. Although he loathes to admit it, it happens. The relearning of being intimate is tumultuous for him.

"Because you're not mentally here, my love."

He frowns. "But I want y'to finish."

You exhale sharply. He doesn't even deny it. "No, Simon. I'd feel disgusted with myself if I finished while you weren't here with me."

He struggles to reply. In all honesty, he doesn't know what to say. It's not exactly a common occurrence, but he's not too keen on having a conversation about it. You never pry though. His therapy sessions are his own, unless, of course, you join him if he so desires.

Couples counseling is mandatory. A rule you established when you first decided to tie the knot. If you had problems that were beyond just a sit-down talk, a professional would have to intervene. And Simon agreed. No fuss, no muss. To preserve the sacredness of your relationship, he'd do anything.

He sighs. "'m sorry, dovie." He caresses your sides, feeling the gooseberries on your skin rise. A small smile adorns his lips and you giggle at his smugness.

"Stop it." You begin to get off of him, but Simon holds you firmly. You feel his dick harden inside of you, now kissing your cervix. A little gasp escapes your chest as you readjust yourself.

"Y'like tha'?" Simon's grinning now. It's his confidence gleaming through the abysmal darkness of his mind. The life in his eyes feels revitalized, and you now feel his vigor—literally.

"Yes, but..."

"'m here, love." He reaffirms, squeezing your waist again. "'m here. Please, 'm achin' for you."

He groans a bit and bucks his hips when he feels you pulsate around him. You return your own moan, leaning forward but his fingers thread through your hair and he brings you into a sloppy, heated kiss. His hips thrust into you slowly and deeply, earning a guttural moan from him.

For a moment as you withdrew from the kiss, your gazes meet and Simon's eyes soften and become glossy with tears that brim over his oculars and spill over the corners of his eyes.

"Oh, baby." You coo, holding him close as you kiss his face. His sadness is silent, yet palpable. You're now babbling sweet, sweet words to him as you pepper him with kisses, and Simon holds you as if you're going to slip away. You gently guide him through the double inhale technique you learned from your therapist, and with the sweetness of your voice, the kindness in your eyes, and the tenderness of your touch, he feels at ease.

"I dunno how y'put up with me."

You grin, kissing the corner of his lip. "It ain't easy."

"Oh?" He flips you over on your back, pressing you firmly against the mattress and you giggle into the nape of his neck. "Wanna say that again, love?"

You thread your fingers through his sandy blonde hair and kiss the tip of his nose. "You're not hard to love, Simon."

His eyes soften once more and he kisses you deeply. Simon has never cherished anyone more in his life. You were always so patient and kind from the jump. You were truly the "greater woman" behind the "great man".

He rests his forehead against yours and closes his eyes as you gently card your fingers in his hair.

"Thank you, lovie."

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kosmic-euphoria · 3 days

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🔞 MDNI | Simon x Fem!Reader (blurb) 🔞

TW: Fake kidnapping, slight exhibitionism, creampie, sex against a wall.

Note: This was inspired after I learned that you could hire a group in tactical gear to fake kidnap people from events. ;)

Your arms tightened around his neck while his thick fingers dug into the fat of your hip, one hand keeping you steady against the wall as his hips slammed against yours repeatedly. His other hand moved downward, sliding your dress up a bit more to reach your clit, thumbing it in a pressured, circular motion. It caused your legs to tighten around his waist from the pleasure.

It was unlike Simon to do this sort of thing after a gig. Your friend paid a pretty pound to have you "kidnapped" from some event he can't even bother to remember, not to have his cock shoved up your cunt. It couldn't be helped though. You're a pretty bird, and Simon likes pretty things.

You didn't seem to mind it, either. With half-lidded eyes and lips parted slightly, allowing moan after moan to fall out, only for them to be swallowed by a rough kiss. Simon had to keep you as quiet as possible. He wasn't one for sharing, especially with his teammates.

It was complete and utter bliss, even if the "kidnapping" did frighten you in the beginning. He swallowed another sweet moan of yours when his thumb pressed against your clit again, the pleasure from it shooting up your body, merging with that from the thrusting. You were absolute heaven for him.

Your gummy walls gripped his cock every time he slammed back inside, as if trying to keep him from leaving again, and he groaned at the feeling. His hips soon sputtered, falling out of the fast-paced rhythm he had set for himself. You could feel how close he was simply from the way he twitched; his length eager to empty inside of you.

That didn't stop his harsh ministrations to your clit, only furthering quickness at which his thumb circled the bundle of nerves. Your legs began to tremble, and he felt it. "Cum f'me," he whispered, pulling away from your lips.

It was a command that caused you to unravel then and there. A wave of white, hot pleasure crashed over you, and his lips captured yours once more to swallow the sharp cry that he knew would have been heard. Your cunt convulsed around his cock, milking it so harshly that a groan rumbled in his throat.

Simon held you in place, your legs still shaking a little, and his forehead pressed against yours. The cloth of his balaclava was wet from his sweat, now soaking up yours, but he didn't care about that. "Good bird," he mumbled, his chest heaving slightly.

It had been a while since he had a fuck that good, and it was at that moment that he decided he would keep you. Simon liked pretty things, and you, little bird, were by far the prettiest he ever had.

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saturncodedstarlette · 18 hours

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[First time dad!Simon on child disciplinary]

Dad!Simon, trying to be stern : You really need to adjust your attitude

🧃, calmly : For questions or complains, pwease contact the manufacturer *points at you*

Dad!Simon : 😐

🎀 : Don’t bring me into this

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fishsinsareacknowledged · 2 days

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König who lets you use his gloves even though they're far too large for you. Kissing your forehead through his mask as his hands feel partially cold from the feeling. Having his hands bare for once, a rare sight for the colonel, even off work, they had become his comfort. Tangling his hand into your now gloved hand as he runs his thumb over the texture, finally understanding why you like it so much when he wears gloves. He lifts your hand, kissing the rough texture of the gloves through his mask as he tells you to keep it, even though he knows you might never use it. It's something to remember him by, knowing you get lonely before he kisses you, minutes before he has to leave for his next deployment.

#konig cod #konig x you #konig x reader #cod konig #konig call of duty #konig mw2 #konig #könig mw2 #könig x reader #könig cod #könig call of duty #könig #hcs #cod #call of duty x reader #call of duty

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darlingsaturn · 6 hours

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"Most of the fanfic are for female audiences!"

"Why is this writer only writing for fem!mc?"

"I wish there's less fem!mc fic."

Reality is already being dominated by male species, let us woman have the fan fiction community. I hate when writer is like 'Fem DNI' like?? I get that it's preference, but fuck off honestly.

Let women enjoy their things without dragging male into it. They're already annoying in rl, i don't want to hear them whining on the internet.

"Oh there's just too much fem!mc in this fandom."

It's a free story. Just be grateful that the writer are even allowing you to read it in the first place.

Writers don't owe you shit.

Stop whining about how writers need to be inclusive for the audience. Sure it'll be great and awesome if they do, but don't fucking force them.

Some are more comfortable writing a specific gender or specific sexuality or specific race. Some writer are most comfortable with writing reader as an extension of themselves. Like a self insert of self indulge fic.

Some might even feel comfortable with writing reader as oc. And that's fine. You didn't pay for it. The writer didn't ask for your money in exchange for that fic. IT'S FREE.

You can ask them to tag their fic properly but to demand them to change the fic? It's bonkers.

You guys are way too comfortable on the internet. You're acting like the rich. Ew.

I saw someone spreading hates on a writer blog's inbox and got mad in their place lol. Also, commission are obviously not included in this rant. Those are different.

#fanfiction #fanfic #writer #writers on tumblr #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #demon slayer x reader #cod x reader #call of duty x reader #genshin x reader #honkai star rail x reader

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lovifie · 4 hours

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Dating your teammate was never part of the plan, but not even a rock would be able to resist Kyle Garrick.

His pretty eyes and that lascivious tone of his had you falling head over heels before you could realise. But rules are rules, and at the beginning the two of you keep it hidden from prying eyes.

Kissing behind closed doors and light-speed glances at each other while the other were presents, like little kids with their first love.

Price didn't suspect a thing until you were taken by the enemy, a proof of life being sent just a couple of hours after Kyle failed to grab your hand.

There you were, tied hands and feet, while the enemy pointed a gun to your head and said something Kyle couldn't even hear over the sound of his blood rushing through his ears. The improper rage the sergeant expressed proof enough for the captain to know.

Price suspected them the two of you must have grown closer than he thought right in front of his eyes, his voice as captains and as friend colliding and clashing inside his mind. At the end, the important part was that the two of you were happy.

And happy you were when Kyle opened the door of your cell. Letting you know it was just two on this side of the building, no danger and no rush.

You fell for Kyle quick, and just as fast did the man have you lying on your stomach, your pants and underwear pulled down just enough to be able to sink himself in your welcoming cunt.

His teeth sinking into the muscle of your shoulder, not bothering to undo the knots of the ropes holding you immobile. Not that you minded, not with the way his length dragged in and out of your soaked cunt and the way his balls were hitting your clit with each thrust.

Just the sound of your bodies connecting with each roll of his hips, his arms hugging you over your chest keeping you pressed against his and his legs on each side of your body. Moans and the filthiest words you have hear him say dripping into your ear.

"I can bloody feel you choke my dick every time you think someone is walkin' in... Is it fear or is it that you want them to see how good you take my dick, love?"

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lxvvie · 4 hours

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Couples Shit with Simon Riley, Missus Princess Daddy edition:

Little Bean Riley (Simon calls her "Beanie" or "Bean" because she looked like a bean when she would scrunch up while sleeping as a baby) is a daddy's girl through and through, the apple of Simon's eye. It's his family's world, mate. He's just living happily in it. He also swears she would look at him like he was the most interesting science experiment and the most traitorous subject ever when she was a baby. Mm. He doesn't know where she got that from. ("You sure about that, Si?")

After you would feed her, she wouldn't be content just sitting in her baby chair. Simon would hold her with one arm and eat and drink with the other. Cue Queen Bean staring at him or, er, his food and drink and grabbing at it. "No, Beanie," Simon would gently say and there goes that stare again. How dare you say no to your Queen Bean, peasant father.

It's a pain in the ass that he has to shave a lot but it is what it is. Queen Bean does not approve, however, because while she loves to touch his scars and crooked nose, she really likes his stubble. For some odd reason. Cue the look of disappointment. Your baby girl turns to you for your support in this betrayal. "I know, sweetheart. I think the same thing," you say and Simon wonders where you two went wrong because you're supposed to be a TEAM lmao.

Queen Bean getting older and while she doesn't know what Simon truly does, the little girl is smart. She knows enough to know that Daddy should not be getting all the boo-boos he's getting when he comes home and she lets him know. "Bad, Daddy. Bad!" You nod in approval. Bloody hell, he's outmatched in his own home. "Sorry, Beanie," Simon says, but Her Majesty shan't be appeased that way. A trip to her and Simon's favorite bakery would suffice. She promises not to tell you about it.

Her Majesty has seen her destiny and come into her role. Thank you, Disney. Bean knows what she must do. She knows what Daddy must do. When Queen Bean can no longer protect the denizens of... Rileyland, Daddy must step up, and so, in pure Disney and Queen Bean flair, she crowns him... Princess Daddy of Rileyland. You tried your damndest not to laugh in Simon's face. Honestly. Truly. Not really. The name has stuck and now Simon is Princess Daddy around the house and he wonders how his eyeballs haven't managed to fall out what with the way he rolls his eyes so much. Just like there can only be one Missus, there can only be one Princess Daddy. It is him, Simon Riley, First of His Name, Missus Princess Daddy. He wears his titles with pride.

Princess Daddy must comport himself with the utmost poise befitting his status. The pinky finger must be out when drinking one's cuppa. He must wave to his subjects (Queen Bean's toys) with regality—bloody hell, he doesn't wave—and SWEAR JAR, Princess Daddy of Rileyland! He must also be available for cuddles, movie time, and daddy-daughter dates to the toy store and bakery. Always, Beanie. Always.

Simon has also become Beanie's personal mobile throne and jungle gym. A Queen's feet should never though the ground after all. It's the way her eyes light up when she sits atop his shoulders and sees the world around her. The world that can (and will) one day be hers. It's the joy she radiates and it makes Simon's heart swell. And this is why he takes his duty as Missus Princess Daddy, Protector of Rileyland so seriously...

...Well, until he had to undergo a makeover. Because you and Bean watched the Princess Diaries. And because you really love doing self-care. Bloody hell. Have you ever seen a 6'4" mountain of a man, with scars and stubble aplenty, wearing a Hello Kitty face mask and some glittery nail polish on his fingers? Well, Simon supposes there's a first time for anything. His skin's never felt better, though, and he's yet to take the nail polish off. Mm. "Makes the wedding band stand out, yeah?" he asks you, and it actually does. Queen Beanie has impeccable taste as always.

And when your baby girl gets sick, Princess Daddy never leaves his daughter's side. Like hell he ever would. He must protect Rileyland after all. He's there to tuck her in, give her medicine, and soothe her pain as best he can. He risks the back pain, huge frame wrapped protectively around Queen Beanie as they nap in her bed. It's the cutest thing. You drape another blanket over them both before busying yourself with your own devices. You and Beanie couldn't ask for a better Protector.

#2queued4u.#dad!simon #call of duty #call of duty modern dadfare.#call of duty modern warfare #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #call of duty x reader #call of duty x you #cod x reader #cod x you #x black reader #x poc reader #x plus size reader #task force 141

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