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cielosafeplace · 3 months ago

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i have a breeding kink but at the same time i have a terrible fear of getting pregnant to the point where ive had nightmares about it and anxiety attacks (especially now that abortions are no longer a constitutional right in the US). yeah, not a great combo when in bed lol

just thought maybe my woe would spark some kind of lil story for ya :)

thank you for the request anon, hope you like it :) cw: breeding kink, smut, +18 content below

You shouldn’t want it... Not like this.

You’re on your back, thighs spread and shaking, and Simon’s weight is pressing down over you, with his hands under your knees, pushing your legs open wide enough that you can feel it in your hips, that sweet ache where stretch meets surrender—but all you really notice is the way he’s looking at you.

A little wild. A little too pleased. Like he knows exactly what’s going on in your head.

"You’re fuckin’ dripping," he mutters against your throat, dragging the thick head of his cock through your folds, teasing you with it, slowly. “You want me to fill you up, yeah?”

Your body screams yes. It pulses with it. You tilt your hips, chasing the friction, heat curling sharp in your belly. That filthy little corner of your brain lights up like a match—the one that wants to hear him say it, again and again. That he’s going to put a baby into you. That your body’s his, made to take it.

But just behind that is the fear. Always is.

The kind that hits in the dead of night, heart racing, breath stuck in your throat. The kind that makes you double-check your pill pack and panic at a missed period. That terrible, breathless dread of being trapped in your own body. Waking up from a dream where you were pregnant and sobbing like it had already happened.

Your fingers grip the sheets, tension building under your skin, about to snap.

Simon feels it. Of course he does. He always knows.

He stills, just slightly. Doesn’t let go of your legs, doesn’t pull away—he just watches you, his brows pulling together. "Hey."

You blink, trying to smile, but it doesn’t work. “I’m fine. I want it. Just keep going.”

He doesn’t move. "You sure?"

“I am,” you say too fast, then softer, “I think I just… my head’s being weird again.”

That look he gives you—the one that feels like a fucking hand on your heart. He leans in, nose brushing yours, eyes locked on you like nothing else exists, and in that moment, it doesn't.

“Tell me,” he murmurs. “Whatever it is. We don’t play unless it’s good for you. Yeah?”

You swallow, heart hammering. You hate admitting it. Hate feeling like your brain’s betraying your body.

“I like it,” you say quietly. “The dirty talk. The whole—breeding thing. I need it sometimes. But I’m also terrified. Like, terrified of actually getting pregnant. It’s… bad. Nightmares, panic attacks...”

His jaw ticks. Just once. That barely contained fury that only shows up when he’s angry on your behalf.

“Fuck,” he says. “Alright. Come here.”

He pulls you in, lets your legs wrap around his waist, chest to chest now, holding you close, grounding you. One big hand slides up your back, the other gripping your thigh, his voice right at your ear.

“You trust me?”

“Yeah,” you whisper.

“Then let me take care of you.”

You nod against his shoulder, and that’s all he needs.

“Good girl,” he breathes, then pulls his hips back, just enough to push his cock against you again. “Gonna give you everything you want, every filthy fuckin’ word. Gonna ruin you like I’m tryin’ to knock you up. But I won’t. I won’t do anything to you that you don’t want, yeah?”

You whimper. “Yes, Simon. Please.”

“God, you sound so sweet like this,” he groans, sliding in, inch by inch. “So needy. You like when I talk like that, don’t you? Gets you so wet, you don’t even care how wrong it sounds.”

He bottoms out with a growl, and your back arches off the bed. You’re already close, tension thrumming under your skin, clenching around him like your body’s begging to be used.

“Look at this little cunt,” he pants, pulling out halfway just to slam back in. “Taking all of me like it wants it. Like it’s fuckin’ desperate for it.”

You’re gasping now, fingers digging into his back, losing yourself to the rhythm, to the stretch, to the low, filthy sound of his voice.

“You want it, don’t you?” he whispers darkly, lips against your jaw. “Wanna be full of me. Wanna let me fuck you raw and finish inside, over and over until you’re leaking, stuffed, ruined.”

“Yes—Simon, yes—”

“But you don’t have to be scared,” he says, voice dropping lower, sweet and vicious. “You’re safe with me. I’ve got you. Always.”

And somehow that undoing feels different.

Like you can want it—really want it—and still be safe.

He fucks you through it, one hand on your belly, pressing down just a little, groaning when you flutter around him.

“Feel that?” he growls. “That’s me. Deep as I can go. Where I belong.”

Your eyes roll back. You're shaking under him, every nerve lit up, body raw with pleasure.

And then he’s coming too, face buried in your neck, groaning your name like it’s the only thing he knows how to say.

He pulls out slowly and carefully. Your thighs are trembling, slick between them, and he’s already wiping you down with a warm cloth before you can even blink. No words—just his soft hands.

Then he climbs back in behind you, draping a blanket over both of you, pulling you into his chest.

“You’re not wrong for wanting it,” he says against your temple. “Wantin’ that kind of surrender. You just need someone who knows how to give it to you right.”

You smile, slow and sleepy. “And you’re that someone?”

He huffs. “You fuckin’ know I am.”

And yeah, you really do.

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@daydreamerwoah @kylies-love-letter @ghostslollipop @kittygonap @alfiestreacle @identity2212 @farylfordaryl @rafaelacallinybbay @akkahelenaa @lovelovelovelovelove987654321 @wraith-bravo6

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cielosafeplace · 3 months ago

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Enemies to Lovers with Simon

YThey are on a mission just the two of them, nothing important just collecting Intel and that's it. Until Until they ambush them and injure Simon, they manage to escape and go to a safe house where they are already fighting, hours later at night everything is silent and you enter the room where he is growling Because of the wound on his side and shoulder, you softly offer to help him but he Until he rubs the wound hard and hits the table and asks you to come in.You are sitting in front of him with shining eyes, healing him with your incredibly soft hands.Your chest hurts when you see him hurt, the blood still stains his chest full of old scars and his tattoos are tinged with the same red. He looks at you with a strange feeling, full of unspoken things. Words that burn in his chest, because he always had to shout at you angrily, because he had to corrupt the little joy that You radiated warmth despite how tough your life had been. Maybe because he didn't know how to deal with the affection he had for you, or maybe it was because he was curious about why you were so kind and cheerful if you'd been through so much shit.Maybe like him or maybe more.Simon's eyes filled with tears as he watched you heal him, despite always fighting you were here apologizing to me every time the antiseptic burned too much even though it wasn't your fault, I stare at the wall and let out a sigh. When you finished, you said goodnight, still in a low, gentle voice, and then went straight to sleep. That same night Simon woke you up at 4 in the morning, he was crying and uttering incoherent words but the only thing you could understand was "I'm sorry" "Please forgive me"

Tus manos cálidas. Your warm hands. They grabbed his face and you forced him to breathe with you, when he was able to calm down you held him on your mattress and he could sleep like a child in your arms, l You murmured a lullaby and sweet nothings to her, and when you both woke up the next morning, there was no more leaving or arguing. Just peace in the silence that surrounded you.

#simon ghost riley #cod x reader #cod ghost #ghost #simon riley

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cielosafeplace · 3 months ago

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Hear me out

I really like it better read ...

Juicy aftercare >>>>>>>> sex

Ohhh and if the aftercare comes from poly 141 AAAAAAA you lost me there

#poly 141 #cod x reader #141 x reader

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cielosafeplace · 4 months ago

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Thin Ice

They can't stand each other—until she falls through the ice and Simon has to save her. One cabin, one blanket, and way too many feelings later… things aren’t so simple anymore. smut, +18, mdni

The wind was freezing, cutting through your clothes and biting at your skin. It wasn’t just the usual chill that made your cheeks feel cold—it was the kind of cold that went deeper, into your bones, making everything feel stiff. It was relentless, gnawing at you with every step, until even breathing felt harder.

The air was so sharp it made your jaw tighten, your body fighting against the freezing grip that seemed to sink deeper with each passing minute.

Which is probably why you were arguing.

Again.

“I told you to take the left path,” you snapped, hugging your arms tighter to your body as your boots crunched over the snow-covered trail. “But no, ‘I know a shortcut,’ you said—”

Simon didn’t even look at you. He just stayed ahead of you by a few paces. “It was a shortcut. You just walk slow as shit.”

You scoffed. “I walk fine. Maybe if you didn’t stomp around like you’re trying to scare off every animal in a ten-mile radius—”

“You cold?” he interrupted, glancing over his shoulder.

You bristled. “No.”

“Good,” he muttered. “’Cause I’m not carryin’ your frozen corpse back to base.”

You rolled your eyes so hard it gave you a headache. “Trust me, if anyone’s dying out here, I’m making damn sure it’s you first.”

He actually snorted. Just once, and you hated that you liked the sound.

The landscape stretched out in brittle white silence, the forest thinning as the frozen river came into view—cracked and black-veined under the snow, but passable if you were careful.

Which, unfortunately, you were not.

One step. That’s all it took. You weren’t even trying to be dramatic—you just followed him across the ice, grumbling under your breath, your lips numb and chapped and fingers stiff—

Then the ice groaned, a sharp, splintering sound that sent a shiver down your spine.

“Wait—” Simon started.

Too late.

Your foot went through, then your leg, then the whole world cracked and swallowed you.

The water was so cold it didn’t feel like anything at first—just shock, like your lungs forgot how to work, like your heart stopped, just for a second. And then it hit. The pain. The sharp, vicious cold that tore through every layer you had on and sank straight into your skin. You thrashed, gasped—then your head went under.

For a second, everything was just dark.

And then—

Strong hands gripped you, arms rough and steady as they pulled you from the ice, breaking through the cold to drag you to safety. Your mouth broke the surface, and air came back with a choking, desperate sob. You clung to him without thinking—his jacket soaked, his mask above you, his voice cutting through the wind.

“Got you,” Simon said, low and harsh. “Fuckin’ hell—got you.”

You couldn’t stop shaking. Your teeth were chattering, your body trembling uncontrollably. Every breath felt sharp, the cold sinking deeper, making it impossible to speak or even think clearly.

He lifted you like you weighed nothing. Scooped you against his chest, one arm around your back, the other under your knees, and started walking. You didn’t have the strength to argue or even find the words.

The safe house wasn’t far. Just a cabin tucked into the woods, barely more than four walls and a fireplace. But right now, it was everything.

He kicked the door open, slammed it shut behind you, and carried you straight to the cot in the corner. Your eyes were wide, lips blue. You were shivering violently.

“Shit,” he muttered. “You’re goin’ under. We need to get these off.”

You blinked. “Wh–what?”

“Your clothes. Off. Now.” His tone left no room for argument. “They’re soaked. You stay in ‘em, you’re done for.”

He pulled off your jacket, your vest, your shirt—fingers cold and clumsy but moving fast, driven by urgency. He didn’t look at you, didn’t crack a smile. He just focused on getting you out of the wet clothes as quickly as possible.

When you were down to your underwear, he didn’t hesitate—just pulled off his own gear, crawled in beside you, and yanked the heavy blanket over both of you. His body, warm and full of heat, pressed against you, chest to chest, your legs tangled, arms locked tight around your back.

He pressed his face into your hair. His breath was warm against your ear.

“Jesus, you scared the shit outta me.”

You couldn’t answer. You didn’t have the strength to.

“You always gotta talk back. Always gotta be difficult,” he muttered, more to himself than to you. “Couldn’t just listen, could you?”

His hand moved gently up and down your spine, trying to rub warmth into you.

“Don’t go quiet on me now,” he whispered. “Talk shit like you always do. C’mon.”

You tried to breathe, but your body was still trembling too hard.

“Hey,” he said softly, “you’re alright. I’ve got you. You’re safe.”

You wanted to say something—anything—but all that came out was a broken whisper.

“I’m so cold.”

His grip tightened.

“I know, baby. I know,” he murmured. “I’ve got you. You’re okay. You’re alright.”

You curled in closer, chasing his warmth, your fingers weak against his chest. And still, he kept whispering. Soft, careful words that didn’t match the man you thought you knew.

“I can’t lose you,” he said quietly, like it hurt to admit. “You drive me fuckin’ crazy, you know that?”

You gave a shaky laugh, almost a breath. “Yeah, you’ve mentioned.”

He kept going. “I act like I don’t care. Like it wouldn’t matter if something happened to you. But it would. It would ruin me.”

You looked up at him. His mask was gone, his jaw clenched tight, lips pale from the cold.

He met your eyes. “I mean it.”

You blinked slowly, heart stuttering in your chest. “You don’t have to say that just because—”

“I’m not sayin’ it because of this,” he said, firm but gentle. “I’m sayin’ it because I’ve been a fuckin’ coward about it. And I almost didn’t get the chance to tell you.”

His hand slid up to cup the back of your head. “You make me feel something I didn’t think I could anymore.”

Your throat felt tight.

He let out a slow breath. “Don’t scare me like that again.”

You barely had enough strength to move, but you leaned into him, burying your face against his chest again, letting his words settle into your bones like warmth.

And he didn’t stop holding you.

Didn’t stop murmuring.

Didn’t stop calling you baby.

Half an hour later, the blanket felt heavy, the air warm now from the fire Simon had started after he got you stable, and the silence in the safe house was comfortable, for once.

Your shaking had started to ease, replaced by exhaustion and this strange, tight feeling in your chest every time you looked at him.

He hadn’t moved.

Still lying beside you, pressed chest-to-chest, his arms around you like he didn’t trust the world not to try and take you again.

You were quiet for a while.

Then you whispered, “I’m okay now.”

“I know,” he said, voice low. “Still not lettin’ go.”

You swallowed. “You don’t have to.”

He looked at you, really looked, like he was checking again—like part of him still didn’t believe you were here, safe in his arms. “You scared the hell outta me.”

“I didn’t mean to.”

“I know.” His hand came up slowly, brushing your hair back from your face, fingertips soft, careful. “Not your fault. Just… couldn’t stand it.”

You were quiet again, taking in the way his voice had changed. It was softer now, stripped of the usual edge, raw in a way that felt like he was letting his guard down. He wasn’t trying to hide anything.

“You’ve got no idea,” he murmured, “how much space you take up in my fuckin’ head.”

Your heart kicked hard in your chest. “You’ve got a weird way of showing it.”

He gave a half-smile. “Yeah. I know. I’m shit at this.”

You shook your head. “You’re not.”

His fingers moved slowly along your jaw, your cheek. “You’re always so mouthy. Always get under my skin. But I’d take that over silence any day.”

You blinked up at him, your face close enough to his that you could feel the warmth of his breath. “Kiss me, Simon.”

He hesitated—but only for a second.

Then he leaned in, slow and unhurried, kissing you with a gentleness that felt different. Not rough, not desperate—just soft. Like he was taking his time, like he wanted to remember every second of it.

When you kissed him back, he made a quiet sound in his chest, something low and strained, like relief.

“You sure?” he asked against your mouth, one hand sliding to your waist, thumb brushing your skin.

You nodded. “I’m sure.”

He was careful, his movements soft and slow, as if afraid that even the slightest wrong move would hurt you, like you meant more to him than anything.

The way he touched you was different now. No teasing, no games—just warmth, just purpose. Every kiss along your shoulder, your collarbone, your throat, spoke louder than words ever could, like he was showing you how much he needed you.

“You’re so fuckin’ beautiful,” he whispered, breath hot against your skin. “You don’t even know.”

You let out a soft sound when he ran his hand down your side, fingers skimming your ribs. He paused, checking your face.

“Still warm enough?”

“Yeah,” you breathed. “Just… nervous.”

He kissed your cheek. “Don’t be. I’ve got you.”

You moved together under the blanket, the world outside fading until it was just him, just the way he held you, the way his hands roamed without rush, the way he kissed you like it was a promise.

When he slid into you, slow and careful, he cursed softly into your skin.

“Fuck… you feel like heaven.”

You wrapped your arms around him, held him close, every part of you full of him.

He didn’t go fast. He didn’t try to make it something it wasn’t.

He just moved with you, forehead pressed to yours, hands cradling your face like you were something fragile.

“You’re alright,” he whispered, over and over. “You’re okay, baby. I’ve got you. Gonna keep you warm, gonna take care of you…”

You could feel it in the way he touched you—how much he meant it. How scared he’d been. How close he’d come to losing you.

And when you came, soft and trembling under him, he kissed you through it, holding you like he never wanted to let go.

After, he stayed on top of you, weight resting heavy but grounding you, his face tucked into your neck.

“Didn’t think I’d ever get this,” he murmured, his lips brushing your temple. “You. Here. Like this.”

You were quiet for a beat, your hand resting over his heart. “Thought you hated me.”

He snorted. “Still might. Jury’s out.”

You tilted your head to look at him. “Wow. You really know how to make a girl feel special.”

“Hey,” he said, eyes soft but mouth twitching, “I let you steal my blanket. That’s love, innit?”

You rolled your eyes. “You dragged me into this blanket. I nearly died.”

“Details,” he muttered. “You look warm now, don’t you?”

You tried to fight the smile tugging at your lips. “So this is your version of a confession? Freezing me half to death and then climbing into bed with me?”

He leaned in, nuzzling the tip of his nose against yours. “Worked, didn’t it?”

You breathed out a quiet laugh. “Yeah. It did.”

He looked at you for a moment, gaze flicking over your face like he was memorizing it, then said, softer, “You’re not gettin’ rid of me now. You know that, right?”

You raised a brow. “Already regretting it.”

He grinned. “Too late.”

Then he kissed you again—slow, easy, like he had all the time in the world, as if nothing else existed but the moment between you two.

He pulled you closer, tucking you into his arms, like you were something he’d finally stopped pretending he didn’t need, something he could finally admit he wanted without hesitation.

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i actually don't like how this turned out but oh well...

@daydreamerwoah @kylies-love-letter @ghostslollipop @kittygonap @alfiestreacle @identity2212 @farylfordaryl @rafaelacallinybbay @akkahelenaa @lovelovelovelovelove987654321 @wraith-bravo6

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cielosafeplace · 4 months ago

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enemies to lovers… n yearning simonnn 😣

his fingertips glide, slipping down over the soft of your waist. and his lips press, press down right above your belly button. it’s sweet, the way he tastes your silk skin, letting his lips caress and pucker.

“what do i have to do?” he breathes, looking up at you from the carcass his lashes cast around his sugary, honey brown eyes. his knees ache, tendons and bones stinging against the hardwood flooring, but it’s the last thing in his mind, his chest tightening in a yearning pain. “tell me, i’ll do anything.”

you smile down at him, pulling his head further back when you cup a hand beneath his jaw. n his fingers tighten, fisting at the material of your loose shirt, pulling it up further over your ribs. he wants to cry, scream and throw a fit. it’s all too much, so much hidden beneath the anger, the disgust, something that morphed into a deep longing of love.

“i just want you to apologize, simon, to me.” and you push his lips to the open column between your hips.

and his lips smear over your skin, spilling apologies in tight gasps, like his lungs tighten and restrict over emotion. it’s blubbering, fingers grabbing and pulling at your hips, kissing over your skin in a disgusting mess of words.

“i’m so sorry,” he finishes, “for everything.” and his teeth snag at the waistline of your jeans, nose bent against your lower belly, nails cutting their way into your back as he holds your shirt up. “you’re all i want, please.”

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cielosafeplace · 4 months ago

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Imma be so honest with you guys… whenever I read poly!141 x reader I get disappointed with how much they lack the poly 141. Like yes soap and ghost interact and yes price and gaz interacts but where’s my ghost and gaz interaction where’s my soap and price or soap and gaz interaction im so disappointed in the lack of gaz in these fanfics also how much it centered around the reader like yes I understand that we’re seeing it through the readers pov but I wanna see the POLY 141 not 4 men and one person 141😔 SHOUTOUT TO THE WRITERS WHO DO INCLUDE GAZ THO LOVE YALL

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cielosafeplace · 4 months ago

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Currently thinking about doing an interrogation with TF141 and being the lead interogator. They suspect keeps looking away from you and to John or Simon at the side, who are really only there as muslce, so you grab him by the chin and force him to look at you, voice honey sweet and condescending "dont look them, eye on me", pressing a knife to the suspects throat to keep him in place as his eyes widen, "thats a good boy"

John, Simon, Johnny and Gaz instantly straighten up and their eyes go wide as they realize you've just awoken something in them, be it a praise kink or a knife kink, they dont know but they'll figure it out later when you're not in the middle of an interrogation

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cielosafeplace · 4 months ago

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I always speak of the black widow reader, but I do not know what they think who read me. I would like to know their opinions. I have several projects in progress but I want to know what my small audience thinks. Aprte I feel a little discouraged lately so I would like to hear your opinions and if you have any ideas welcome be .

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cielosafeplace · 4 months ago

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cw: soft love, soft sex, sexual content, mentions of rough sex but none at all, Simon cant help but get emotional, crying, cheek kisses, mentions of Simons military scars, soft touch, love, riding, comfort

Simon Riley who cries during sex- but not in a broken submissive way. Not because you’ve teased him, treat him and took him like the good boy he is. Not because you’ve made him beg and yearn for you so hard and so much he can’t help but sob.

No, Simon Riley who cries because no matter how humid the room is, how wet the sheets are from the both of your sweat and love combined, no matter how dark- lights on and off, only one thing comes to his mind when you settle yourself down on him.

How beautiful you are.

Hearing your murmurs, whines- moans and breaths. Hearing you ask him if everything is okay- if you were okay- if you were fucking ‘good’ for him. It pissed him off because you were perfect in every single way. Even when you accidentally gripped him a little too hard, or bit down or wriggled in a way that makes him hiss- every little fault and fail was perfect because you made it. And it made him emotional. Made him feel.

He’d try to be brave, to be calm- to shake and swallow down them emotions. An SAS soldier crying during sex? What an absolute loser! He didn’t want you to catch him like that, his large hand gently fisting the back of your hair before pushing your face down into his shoulder. Watered eyes, staring up at the ceiling as tears leaked from the corner of his eyes and dripped either side of his head.

“Am I doing alright?” You would breathe out to him. Raising your head from his shoulder while moving your hips to match his rhythm. The duvet to the double bed the two of you shared draped over your shoulders, concealing you both together. Together; the two of you- Simon wished he could live in this moment forevermore.

“Of-” He would start but pause as his voice cracked and lip quivered, choking back the tears that threatened to break. The dark hairs of his eyebrows furrowed in irritation as he scolded himself mentally. Throat was jammed, his heart a mix between bursting open and falling into his stomach. For once he felt vulnerable. He shouldn’t be acting this way- sex was supposed to be full of hunger and desire.

You reached your hand down, placing it over his own that fell attached to the skin of your waist. It was so natural to you, you didn’t even notice you did it meanwhile Simon almost broke apart at the gesture. Inhaling sharply and getting hold of himself.

“Of course you are. Perfect in every way.” His voice a croaky whisper and he pressed his chapped lips against the soft skin of your cheek. Kissing you with such passion and care.

The scars of his fingers brushed against your skin while he pushed your hair to the side with his free hand. The two of you locked like that while you both orgasmed. Skin to skin, chest to chest; his molten warmth flooding you with admiration and affection. It was real, he felt purpose with you.

Moments passed and the two of you would move to get comfortable, he’d move his arms letting you climb off of him before immediately rubbing his eyes clear. You wouldn’t miss the redness and the way his nose sounded all snotty as he breathed in; but if you were ever to ask he would just tell you he was feeling tired.

You couldn’t miss the times you heard a whimper slip that was a pitch to high to be from pleasure alone, the times you’d seen the skin beneath his eyes shine- of course it could just be sweat- however deep down you knew otherwise and he was fully aware you knew about his ‘tearful tendencies’. He saw it in your eyes as you searched his face.

You didn’t push him, though. You didn’t tease him or tell him that he shouldn’t be embarrassed. You didn’t try to comfort him and you did not pester him about it. You never mentioned it once because sometimes words aren’t needed to communicate. Dark eyes fluttering shut as your fingers trailed the muscles and veins of his arms, soft strokes against his harsh, worn skin: your touch spoke volumes to him.

You understood that, even if he knew that you knew, he didn’t need the confirmation: just the comfort to barricade himself out his head.

And that was another reason he loved you.

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