hells-sins

[hells-sins]

🕯 🕯 🕯

🕯 May you have the 🕯

🕯 absolute thirstiest 🕯

🕯 of thirst dreams of 🕯

🕯 whatever fictional 🕯

🕯 character you’re 🕯

🕯 hyper-fixating on at 🕯

🕯 the moment 🕯

🕯 🕯 🕯

[hells-sins]

its been explained!! apparently i missed like everything with SAG and the VA strikes soo... woopee

im going to explode what have they done to kinich (no shade to jacob takanashi of course youre doing great honey but please bring john pateneaude back 😭 this just doesn't feel right)

(if i missed something like super super important please tell me I haven't really been paying attention to the fandom)

[hells-sins]

you’re drunk - simon ghost riley

“y’wanna know what stupid looks like?” he mutters, head dropping down until his lips near your jaw. “you, wakin up with my fuckin dog tags round your neck and nothin else.”

based off a request i got - tispy simon riley x drunk reader. simon is a man of morals, even when you make it very very hard for him to exercise them. 18+. lots of detailed dirty talk.

find part two here.

————-

it’s honestly not even your fault.

you’ll blame it all on soap, if anyone asks - he’s the one who had a tab open, a devil on his shoulder, and kept pouring shots as if they were free. now you’re blackout-adjacent, stumbling through the hallway with simon’s arm wrapped around your waist in some makeshift tourniquet while everything spins like a goddamn carousel.

simon always gets stuck on clean-up crew. mostly because he’s the only one who can handle their fuckin liquor.

needless to say, he’s used to this by now. used to the way you’ve been rambling on about nothing for the better part of five minutes - doesn’t say much when you stop and get distracted by something stupid for the billionth time. doesn’t complain when you grab his arm and lean a little too hard into his side, as if he’s a lifeline in the sea that is the floor beneath your feet.

he’s tipsy, sure, but somehow still annoyingly steady. classic simon.

“jesussi—you’re big.” it’s slurred and breathless, broken by your own laughter as your head drops lazily onto his shoulder. “like, industrial grade. military-issued big.”

the corner of his mouth tilts. if you were sober you’d see the smirk he’s biting back.

“tha right?”

“mmm. like a fuckin tank,” you hum, fingers kneading the muscle under your palm. it’s involuntary - just like it’s involuntary when he twitches. “or an armoured vehicle. y’should come with airbags.”

simon bites his cheek. the devil in you is dancing in the waves of tension rolling off him.

maybe he’s not as used to this as he thought - because this isn’t just drunk-banter. this is you, murmuring compliments with all that heat behind them. personal. stupidly involuntarily honest.

hes not used to compliments. not ones that sound like that.

“you’re drunk,” he breathes.

you grin. “so’re you.”

“not even half as much as you.”

you let out a giddy little laugh that makes him glance down, at that. it’s quick and brief, the way his eyes flick over you, like he’s checking to make sure you haven’t stripped mid-hallway. it’s just the bickering that gets you. makes you warm inside.

“m’not that drunk,” you lie through your teeth with all the drunken confidence you possess. “i mean—i am, but not like…memory loss drunk. i’m still gonna remember how wide your shoulders are tomorrow.”

it’s only seconds after that and your fingers are moving again, crawling down his arm to where leather edge meets skin.

“..and how insanely big your hands are,” you sigh in continuation, unable to help yourself. “like—biblically destructive. ruin-her-life-in-a-single-night kind of hands. anyone ever tell y’that?”

and that might just be precisely when it starts - the feeling in his gut. brought to life through the filth you’re beginning to feed.

“don’t.” he says, and it’s torn. “not now.”

he’s all but begging you - and however miraculously, his pace doesn’t break. still steady as ever even as you switch from squeezing to tracing his tattoos with your finger. the only response he gives is a devastating clench of his jaw as he keeps you moving - steering past flickering lights and sterile walls.

“y’ever choke a girl out with them?” you press, unfettered. “not like, unconscious, but like. in bed?”

he exhales. slow. almost a growl.

“jesus. stop talkin’.”

“why?” you blink up at him, all wide eyes and flushed cheeks, far too innocent for someone who’s very much not being innocent. “am i makin’ you nervouuus?”

his head tilts just slightly, just enough to peer down at you again.

“no,” he says, and even drunk you hear the grit in it. “you’re makin’ me hard.”

he says it like he hates himself for it. like it slipped out - cut from the meat of some deep place the inebriation in his veins simply won’t let him keep inside.

and you?

you blink slow, lips parting in surprise.

“fuckin’ finally.” you exhale with a smile. slow and crooked and dangerous. “thought i’d have to be on my knees and naked for you to admit that—“

he doesn’t let you finish that thought.

“fuck’s sake, y’little minx.” he’s dragging you now, as if he’s realizing the dangers that are surfacing the more this conversation continues. by this point he’s half-carrying, half-hauling your giggling form down the hall like you weigh nothing. “y’need to stop talkin.”

“you like it,” you slur between unsteady steps. “y’like me like this cause you’re a freakkk—“

his grip tightens. morals in tatters. control evaporating.

“i’d like you more if y’were unconscious.” he huffs, hard. “or duct-taped.”

that makes you giggle more. worse, it eggs you on.

“was that supposed t’be a threat?” you ask, lips glistening. “cause if so, it’s workingggg.”

he grunts - some deep, violent sound in his throat like that one hit a nerve. “bloody hell.”

by the time you make it to your door, he’s breathing heavy. less from exertion and more from sheer fucking restraint. it takes two seconds before he throws the hinges wide, kicks it shut with his boot, and all but drags you onto your bed.

and you hardly even realize you’ve reached it until the cotton caresses the side of your cheek. but that feeling is quickly forgotten when simon, the gentleman that he is, leans over you - one knee braced on the mattress as his hands go to work on the laces of your boots.

your thighs tense. he notices.

“fuck, simon.” you can’t stop yourself. not even god himself could, at this point. “i’ve been into you for ages, y’know.”

he pauses. boot in hand.

“…what?”

he says it low. like a warning - like a don’t you fuckin start. but you’re too drunk to care - especially when all you smell is him and all you see are those shoulders, leaning over you while you’re flat on your back beneath him.

your lashes flutter.

“jus sayin- since, like. you’re in my room, on my bed above me like one of my codeine fever dreams.” you slur, brain sloshing. the room spins with it. “thought y’should know.”

he looks at you like you’ve hit him with a brick.

your head lolls. glassy eyes dragging up over the length of him. “used to think about it—you—when i couldn’t sleep.”

he swallows, and you watch his throat work with it. the grip he’s got on your ankle could shatter bone.

“….you tellin me y’think bout me when y’touch yourself?” he asks.

“god yes.” you don’t even realize you’ve said it. “you. your hands. bending me over the sinks. in the showers while muttering filth in my ear, tellin me to behave—“

“—fuck.” it punches out of him like it hurts.

the silence falls heavy. he doesn’t blink, breathe, or move for what feels like forty minutes, when in reality, it’s like forty seconds - just long enough for him clamp the leash back on whatever beast is tearing through him.

not fully, but enough.

you stretch like a cat, oblivious to it. arch your back. sigh. “d’you think about it?”

he doesn’t answer. not at first. then—

“only when i breathe.”

your stomach lurches. your thighs twitch. “you mean that?”

he looks at you, finally - eyes darker than the devils deal, filled with filth and heat from the fire you started without even trying.

he shakes his head, his jaw clenches with the effort of keeping the beast at bay. “i mean, if you don’t stop talkin, m’gonna fuckin’ fold.”

the alcohol in your blood just roars, at that. fuel to the flaming fire inside you.

“tell me.” you murmur. “you think about fucking me? what i’d sound like moaning your—“

before you can finish that thought, his hand is over your mouth. it swallows your face, makes you twitch in all the wrong places — and he sees it.

“enough.” it’s barely a whisper. “christ. fuck. you’re gonna make me do somethin’ stupid.”

you moan against his hand - it spills out of you, vibrates against his fingers. he curses.

“y’wanna know what stupid looks like?” he mutters, head dropping down until his lips near your jaw. “you, wakin up with my fuckin dog tags round your neck and nothin else.”

his palm silences everything but your pulse, which is roaring, at this point.

your fingers come up, shift a few of his digits until your voice finds room to leak out. “please.”

his eyes snap shut.

“y’dont know what you’re askin for, sweet’eart,” he mutters, grabbing the edge of the blanket with his free hand and yanking it over your hips. “ain’t gonna wake up with you hatin me.”

even drunk you realize he’s a man of morals.

“you think i’d regret it?” you whisper. stars in your eyes. he doesn’t respond. “simon. i just told you i’ve fantasized about fucking you. i wonder how big you are, if it’d hurt—“

his palm tightens over your lips again.

“one more fuckin’ word and i’ll forget every goddamn reason why i shouldn’t touch you right now.” he spits. “if y’even remember this tomorrow, y’come say it to me sober. promise on every grave i’ve ever stood over i’ll bend y’over on the spot and fuck the idea of regret right outta you.”

then he pulls back, moving slow like it hurts, and you smile.

“guess i’ll see you tomorrow.”

“mhm.” he hums, take a step or two toward the door. “fuckin hope you will.”

[hells-sins]

are.... are you sure, fish?

I would survive the hydraulic press

[hells-sins]

Most, if not all, of these works contain smut. 18+ ONLY

I hate you [angst]

Simon gets home

Overstimulation

First time

Mean ghost

Dirty sex

Dbsf! Simon

Just more thoughts

Riding him

Doggy style

Payback

Cockwarming

He watches you masturbate

Size kink

He's a tits man

Slight breath play

More mean Simon

Corruption

Rough sex

Corruption part 2

Corruption part 3

Corruption part 4

Corruption part 5

Corruption part 6

Corruption part 7

Corruption part 8

Corruption part 9

All rights reserved ©

Blog masterlist

[hells-sins]

Call Of Duty Audio Smut!

I realised I have not kept up with G W A reddit for a while and what has been going on? More Ghost, some König and Soap too! So here’s for your enjoyment :3 I have included both link to the post on G W A and straight to audio, since not everyone has Reddit, but please go give the artists some praise and comments if you like the audio! All audios are M4F, so male voices for female listeners. Have fun (as long as you’re an adult, MDNI!)

Simon “Ghost” Riley

Caught by Ghost by Badjhur (audio) (Mdom, dubcon)

Zero Hour by Badjhur (audio) (Mdom, squadmates to lovers)

Ghosting the Party by Badjhur (audio) (Mdom, interrogation)

Testing the Perimeter by Badjhur (audio) (Mdom, squadmates to lovers)

Only a Specialist’s Touch by Badjhur (audio) (Mdom, keep quiet, squadmates to lovers)

Training a Military Brat by Badjhur (audio) (Mdom, brat taming duh)

Clouded Conscience by Badjhur (audio) (Mdom, friends to lovers)

Lesson in Biochemistry by Badjhur (audio) (Mdom, sex pollen, dubcon)

Ghostly Comfort by  AmbroseKincaidVA (audio) (Mdom, comfort sex)

Riling up Riley by Badjhur (audio) 

This Town Ain’t Big Enough by mowhispers (audio) (AU, Sheriff Ghost is after wanted listener, Mdom)

Ghost Stories - Prisoner of War-Games by Badjhur (audio) (M4A, Mdom to Msub)

You’re Mine, I’m Yours by lostintheblaze (audio) (Mdom, spit and size kink, exhibitionism)

Ghost Stories - The Mask Stays On by Badjhur (audio) (MDom, rough sex)

This Town Ain’t Big Enough by SouthLandTale (audio)

König

Doktor’s Orders by Badjhur (audio) (Msub König, established relationship)

Trapped in a cave? by Helloworld1337 (audio)

Taking Care of König by wagnerfirst (audio)

Taking care of König by Helloworld1337 (audio)

A Night with König by cover_immortality (audio) (impro, msub)

What are you DOING under there? by Badjhur (audio) (blowjob, plus sized listener)

‘Interrogated’ by 141’s Teutonic Titan by Badjhur (audio) (CNC, Mdom, bound)

CoD Stories - Warm Sentiments by GermanRaidenASMR (audio) (Gentle Mdom, allies to lovers) 

A Lazy Morning with König by GermanRaidenASMR (audio) (BFE, gentle Mdom)

I Make it Up to You Schatz by GermanRaidenASMR (audio) 

John “Soap” MacTavish

Coming Clean by touchshriek (audio) (Mdom, enemies to lovers, manhandling outdoor sex)

Late Hours by ScotsLibrarian (audio) (Mdom, interrogation)

Late Hours by Touchshriek (audio)

Brats Get Punished Like They Deserve by ScotsLibrarian (audio) (Mdom, puppy sub, rough)

Captain John Price

Bravo Six Going Dark - When the Lights Go Out by Badjhur (audio) (Mdom, listener is a mother, neighbors to lovers)

Price of Punishment by Badjhur (audio) (MDom, impact play, brat taming)

Multiple characters

Let us fuck your brains out and relieve that stress by Badhjur (audio) (Ghost, König, Soap, foursome)

Your Little Fantasies Are Out Of Control by hfoaudio (audio) (Ghost AND König, mdom, love triangle)

[hells-sins]

[hells-sins]

reblogging this again cuz why not

🕯 🕯 🕯

🕯 May you have the 🕯

🕯 absolute thirstiest 🕯

🕯 of thirst dreams of 🕯

🕯 whatever fictional 🕯

🕯 character you’re 🕯

🕯 hyper-fixating on at 🕯

🕯 the moment 🕯

🕯 🕯 🕯

[hells-sins]

im going to explode what have they done to kinich (no shade to jacob takanashi of course youre doing great honey but please bring john pateneaude back 😭 this just doesn't feel right)

(if i missed something like super super important please tell me I haven't really been paying attention to the fandom)

[hells-sins]

People don't actually grow out of their emo phases. People are forced out of their emo phases by employers who get a raging boner over controlling how their employees dress, cut their hair, whether they mod their bodies and so on

[hells-sins]

tiktok refugees i believe you are few but it is VITAL that you know on tumblr you can speak freely. kill. die. sex. fuck. you can say things here

[hells-sins]

shorthands for dumbassery that i have grown to love deeply

"how dare you say we piss on the poor" in response to someone misinterpreting your post

"_ isnt gonna fuck you" for suck up behavior

"woah. should we tell everyone? should we throw a party?" for who the fuck cares

"and what if the world was made of pudding" for when would this ever matter.

"and sharks are smooth both ways" for a group of people heatedly arguing with 1 guy who is fucking with them all

".. but its about a witch in the alps finding her lost cat" for someone trying to sanitize something to the point of absurdity

[hells-sins]

what the fuck was that

anyways

vent under cut

why is everybody else better than me I don't understand

what happened

why cant i just be good at what i like

why cant i accept when i do have talent

why do i always put myself down like this.

why cant i just be happy

[hells-sins]

vent under cut

why is everybody else better than me I don't understand

what happened

why cant i just be good at what i like

why cant i accept when i do have talent

why do i always put myself down like this.

why cant i just be happy

[hells-sins]

[hells-sins]

Bises 😚💥

[hells-sins]

𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐀 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐀𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐝𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐩 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐛𝐲 𝐭𝐨𝐮𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫. 𝐓𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐢𝐭’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐬𝐞𝐱𝐮𝐚𝐥, 𝐢𝐭’𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐚 𝐭𝐚𝐝 𝐛𝐢𝐭 𝐬𝐮𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞.

Boundaries. That was a concept you never quite worried about… well, at least not until you befriended Alastor. He had a tendency of being ‘familiar’ with those he came to trust and care for, including you—though, his hands always lingered on places that were entirely innocent in nature, such as your chin, your cheek, your shoulder, your arm, and, if he was feeling particularly adventurous, the small of your back.

And while you came to welcome his touch overtime, that didn’t mean that you could change the way you perceived his gestures, no matter how well-intended they were. You didn’t mind the occasional hug or pat on the back, but Alastor’s familiarity with your body was pushing past the boundaries of your friendship, which you’re more than certain is not what he intended to do. So, you tried to communicate your sentiments to him.

“Al, I know you mean well,” You awkwardly coughed out one day, spine tingling at the delicate press of his fingers against your lower back. “But I don’t think you understand what you’re doing to me.”

“I’m not sure I quite catch your meaning, my dear,” Alastor hummed. Of course he did not. He wasn’t even paying attention to you, not with his gaze fixated on whatever was unfolding before him. “I am doing nothing at all.”

It didn’t matter how many times you tried to broach the subject with him, he just didn’t seem to fully grasp the weight of the situation he had inadvertently designed. So, what did you do next? You began to return his gestures. And though he was content that you had finally found comfort in touching him, the moment he started to lose his bearings at the constant presence of your hands, your words rung in the back of his mind.

That’s when he started to ask you, ‘What are you doing to me?’ But you feigned ignorance, pleading for him to elaborate with an innocent frown gracing your features. His smile almost dropped. Not because you proceeded to caress the side of his face with the back of your hand, a twinge of worry present in the crease between your brows as you dragged your knuckles against his flushed skin, but because he felt graced.

Alastor managed to utter a ‘Nevermind,’ but that’s because he suddenly found his mind preoccupied with the foreign sensation brought about by your incessant touches, his own spine tingling at the delicate press of your nimble fingers against his chin, his cheek, his shoulder, his arm, and, if you were feeling particularly adventurous, the small tuft of fur near his lower back: his tail, an erogenous zone for him. How wicked of you.

The two of you continued to go back and forth with each other, somewhat aware of the sort of responses you were eliciting from your bodies, though it was more experimental on Alastor’s end and more revengeful on yours. One day, however, one of you ventured into dangerous territory; and, much to your surprise, it was he that initiated the intimate gesture. You were in the middle of dinner, mouth stuttering mid-chew.

“Are you okay?” Niffty asked from the other end of the table. It was her cooking you were eating, after all, and with everybody’s gazes fixed on you, you hastily made to nod your head. “Oh no, is the food not good? Did I overcook it? Did I not—”

“Yes!—Wait, no? I’m so sorry! I’m just distracted,” You spoke from behind your hand, trying not to squeak at the pressure on your thigh. “It’s great—trust me, the chicken is tender,” You added, and that was when she left you alone.

But Alastor did not. From your peripheral vision, you could see the curiosity hanging heavily on his brow, as if he was the one being felt in such an intimate manner. Though, you didn’t say or do anything, somewhat curious yourself. The pads of his fingers gradually moved away from your thigh and down to your knee, your flesh prickling at the softness of the gesture. There was a distant ache stirring in your core now, and he felt it, too.

It was in private when he confronted you about the feeling, however, having lost his bearings from all the days, the weeks, and the months the two of you had unconsciously spent familiarizing yourselves with each other’s bodies. You had finally taken a toll on him, and it was evident in the way he grabbed your wrist and gently pressed your hand to his chest. ‘What have you done to me?’ He asked with an anguished undertone.

“Nothing,” You stuttered out, overwhelmed by the flutter against your palm. His heart was racing, and so was yours, especially as he pulled you into an embrace by the waist with his other hand. “Well, only what you have done to me.”

Boundaries. Now he fully grasped what boundaries were, including the importance of enforcing them, for then one fell victim to a concept one never quite worried about. ‘This is love,’ You craned your neck to inform Alastor, your body pressed up against his. ‘Love?’ The word rolled off his tongue, as if savoring the feel of it. He knew what it was, though not the kind that you had fostered in his heart with your familiarity.

Alastor stared down at you intently, all the while, the hand on your waist abandoned its post. Your breath hitched as he traced your side, slowly and deliberately committing the fine curvature of your body to memory. By the time his fingers grasped your chin, you were a flustered mess. He felt just the same as you, but he masked it quite well, even as he dipped his head to tentatively capture your lips in what would be his first kiss.