#cod

[quarterlifekitty]

cw: dubcon, manipulation, babytrapping?

You ask Alpha!Gaz to spend your heat with you because he’s so chill. He’s always treated you just like one of the guys— since day one. Never once mentioned your designation, because he doesn’t care about that kind of thing, right? So when you ask him why his teeth are at your throat he smiles and laughs like you’re being silly, and says “I’ve been courting you for as long as I’ve known you, love.”

You ask Alpha!Soap to spend your heat with you because he’s so promiscuous. He’s slept with everyone on base, no strings attached, no broken hearts— obviously he’s a man who knows how to keep it casual, right? But when you’re pressed against him, stuck on his knot, he’s rubbing your stomach and asking “How many pups ye want, bonnie? Ah was thinkin’ we’d have a proper big family.”

You ask Alpha!Ghost to spend your heat with you because he doesn’t really seem to like anyone. Not the type to form attachments. Won’t give any part of himself to anyone, right? But he keeps you prone and pinned with his massive body, oriented so he can watch the door, grunting “You’re mine now, understand? Anyone who tries to get between me and my mate s’gonna end up torn apart.”

You ask Alpha!Price to spend your heat with you because he’s your commanding officer. He’s always been calm, cool, and completely professional with you. He wouldn’t compromise the structure of the team over some biological event, right? But he’s panting, tongue soothing over the fresh mark in your neck, telling you he’ll have a talk with your landlord once your heat is over about breaking your lease. “Gotta get you moved in with me, darl’. Pups’ll need more space to run around. What color do y’want the nursery?”

You ask Alpha!Nikolai to spend your heat with you because you trust him, but you don’t exactly have a relationship. You work with him some of the time, and he’s a good man, but he lives across the globe. He wouldn’t disrupt his globetrotting lifestyle to settle down with some omega he barely knows, right? But he’s cooing honeyed words in your ear that you can’t understand, one hand pawing at your abdomen while the other is at your throat, rubbing your gland and bringing the blood to the surface in preparation for his bite. “Imagine the look on John’s face— when he sees I’ve poached his prettiest little sergeant for myself…”

[pickled0ctopus]

for study... of course

[lanialania00]

werewolfau where Ghost doesn’t know that Soap is a werewolf but notices strange things about him

[eleu22]

team

[hatsbuckets]

The first time Graves used “all y’all” in front of the Brits, they had to physically restrain themselves from shaking him like a ragdoll.

...

“Now, all y’all just calm down a minute--”

A beat of silence.

Price blinked. Soap tilted his head like a confused retriever. Gaz mouthed ‘all y’all?’ like it was a slur.

“Beg your fuckin’ pardon?” Soap asked.

...

Graves, undeterred:

“Y’all’d’ve done better if you’d waited for backup.”

Gaz made a noise like a computer shutting down.

“I’m sorry... y’all would’ve what?”

Graves: “Would’ve done better.”

Price, flat: “That’s not what you said.”

“I was fixin’ to explain!”

“Fixing what now?”

...

While reviewing blueprints:

“Might coulda added another entry point here.”

Soap stood up. “This is an act o' terrorism."

[amaranthinespirit]

please PLEASE Can you write reader ovulating with Simon Riley, his dick would hurt by the end.

what happens to simon riley when you're ovulating (his dick would fall off if it were me tbh)

your sex life with simon is already active as is, so the moment you start ovulating, he's in trouble. serious trouble. you can barely keep yourself off of him. everything he does sends a throbbing want to your pussy.

manspreading? you're already on top of him, tugging his jeans down just enough to ride his heavy cock. his big hands find purchase on your hips, grunting lowly.

"fuckin' eager, huh?" he's only half hard by the time you're bouncing on him, and you don't get off until either of you can't speak, and you've ruined yet another pair of his jeans from the amount of slick and cum that stains the fabric.

rolling up his sleeves, seeing the way his forearms and veins flex? you're begging him to finger you, and he gladly listens.

"need me t'fuckin' fill ya full, don't ya?" bent over whatever surface of your house, stuffed full of his fingers knuckle deep as your walls clench around him. one orgasm isn't enough, two, three, four, five until you're babbling incoherently and spraying the front of his shirt with your release.

the thing men do when they reverse, placing one hand behind the passenger seat? belt, GONE. you make hasty work of his jeans just so you can suck his dick as he drives—bonus points if he's still reversing. half-way laid across the center console with a face-full of his throbbing cock, already leaking pre. he's a mess, whimpers spilling from his lips as he bites down on the plush flesh. he's pulling your panties to the side, burying three fingers deep in your cunt with ease at the sheer wetness of your pussy.

him, reading with glasses? you bet he isn't taking his eyes off a single page as he ruts into you from behind, book laid across your back slick with sweat. he might be a little mean, make you fuck yourself back on his dick, balls slightly slapping your clit enough to make your eyes roll back into your head. get a drop of cum on his book, and he'll punish you.

getting passionate about his interests? fuck in missionary so he can continue yapping as he toys with your clit and pounds into your throbbing cunt. his words are long lost on you—you don't even notice when his words start getting condescending.

"always gettin' in m'pants..." he grunts, the sound of skin slapping and mindless whimpers and mewls fill the room, "fuckin' slut, you tryin' to get pregnant? want me t'fill you? dirty whore..."

by the end of your ovulation phase, you might've definitely gotten knocked up, and his dick is no longer with us. (he still has his hands and face, ladies...)

[laceyfaeryy]

MDNI 18+

loner! simon riley being completely unaware that he’s largely endowed

mentions of: huge dick simon riley, loser simon riley, vaginal sex

just loner! simon riley with a huge cock that’s all

he was completely unaware of how big he really is, thinking it’s probably just average or maybe even smaller, and straying awkwardly away from any sex talk with his friends.

he was also completely unaware of how it literally swings when he walks, especially when he is alone in his apartment with no boxers just because they felt so unreasonably uncomfortable, like his cock was suffocating. his tight cargo pants always bunched up at the crotch area.

he was quite messy whenever he came whilst fisting his cock. his rough hands marred with scars moving up and down sloppily, lewd wet noises filling up the room as he leaned his head on the wall, his black skull balaclava in his mouth to stifle any groans.

his cock felt heavy, weighing down his hands and sometimes would even make his hands ache.

and he had a heavy load of cum when he came it would spurt all over his abdomen, making a sticky mess on his hands as he tried to wipe it with a towel, his actions sloppy due to the ache in his right hand.

so when he first fucked you he felt like an amateur, completely unaware of your gaze glued to his bulge as he freed his aching cock, looking already huge in his large hands. he struggled, like a lot getting it in.

he was so excited to feel your warm cunt around him, missing your hole multiple times.

“fuck, ‘m sorry luvie, don’t know why it’s not going in.” his cheeks beat up, a faint dust of pale pink as his fat tip nudged against your glistening hole, his hand steady trying to guide it. “jus’ a lil stretch,” he cooed as he watched the way his tip was enveloped by your cunt, a loud squelching noise before he finally sank in.

god he loved watching that small tummy bulge whilst fucking you.

he never thought he’d feel so good, your gummy walls so tight and warm around his cock, squeezing him like you wanted to milk him dry. simon was used to the feeling of his palms, the rough dry skin, but god it did not compare to the feeling of your cunt.

he came within seconds after you, his cum dripping out despite his cock being plunged so deeply into your cunt.

he swore that he saw your stomach swell just slightly due to his cum.

[simonz-angel]

lettin virgy simon get between your legs 👅

his blunt nails skitter up over your thighs, grabbing and pulling at the soft fat braced over your hipbones. he’s forcing and bending you into a melting mess, pressuring you into different angles, letting his lips suckle you up sweetly.

“s-slow, simon, calm down.” you gasp, pressing the heel of your palm into the top of his skull. body going shrill when his inexperienced tongue licks and sharp teeth snag and bite. fingertips spreading and kneading.

n he pulls away from you, a lewd “pop” and a pretty, glistening string of spit follow him. n his breath is shallow and heavy, chest heaving as he catches up to his racing heart, brain fuzzy from lack of oxygen.

he pulls his hands away, letting them rest easy on the sheets. “i-im sorry, mama,” he whispers, glossy eyes looking up at you. “i’ll be gentle, i’m sorry.”

that’s all my horniess for right now guys sorry 💔

[mellosdrawings]

Post-OP crash out rkgk

[wombywoo]

the Price is right on patreon today 🤫💜

[machveil]

Roommate!Simon Riley who learns the names of your stuffed animals. Quietly sitting on your bed as you introduce them, gaze locked on the soft stuffie in your hands. every time you pick a new one up his eyes stay on the previous one for a few seconds before trailing back to you. he gives the occasional nod, a gruff hum when you tell him where you got it from. he forgets to speak sometimes, seemingly dull gaze boring into you. he sits up a little straighter when you start to glance away thinking he’s lost interest, but no, “Does tha’ one get along with the big fella?”

Roommate!Simon Riley who wants you to talk about your plushies and knickknacks. he likes listening to you talk, listening to your voice, watching the way you gently handle your stuffed animals. it reminds him of the rare plush or two he had growing up, gnarly and hidden away somewhere forgotten, tucked away in a dusty box. they made him feel safe when he was little, something to hold onto, and seeing you carefully arrange yours makes his chest feel lighter. heart a little achy when you let him hold one in his calloused, rough hands. soft, thumb grazing over the fabric, smoothing over stitching

Roommate!Simon Riley who brings you a stuffed animal after he goes to the store alone. he’s learned your preference towards them, too plush, too firm, not the right material - a texture you can’t hold for long, he knows what to avoid. he doesn’t feel embarrassed standing in the kids aisle sifting through brightly colored toys, but he does feel some eyes on him. but it’s for you, and a little bit for him. “Simon, you didn’t have to—”, he silently loves when you say that, gives him the opportunity to respond, “Wanted to.”. he wants to make your day, add to your collection, see you smile and love on it. gives him an excuse to go back to your room and introduce the newbie

Roommate!Simon Riley who misses you when he has to leave on deployments. he knows you miss his presence, even when he scares you by not making himself known. that you miss the way he fills your apartment, bulky figure padding around from room to room. “Got ya this. Don’t miss me too much.”, as he hands you a new stuffed animal before he leaves. one that feels holdable, something you can cuddle with and squish. one with a recorded message, Simon’s gravely voice coming from the comically cute stuffie. he doesn’t look you in the eyes, hands shoved in his pockets as he stands in the doorway, “And don’t think that’s replacin’ me.”

“Thinkin’ of you, lovie.”, a small pause in the recording, his voice a little softer, “Take care of yourself.”

[quarterlifekitty]

Thinking about being friends with Soap

Maybe he met you when you were right out of a bad relationship, and you wanted a break from dating. So he’s just taking what he can get for now, secretly hoping to wear you down eventually.

You come over to his place for a movie night. Lets you poke around in his room (he knows you’re snoopy and curious) while he takes a shower. Comes back to see you bundled in his bed, dozing and cuddling one of his pillows. You blink all slow and yawn when you hear him come in, waking up a bit.

“Sorry… your bed was just so comfy, and warm— and it smells like you in here,” you coo quietly, rubbing your face against his pillow to punctuate your point. You get up before he can stop you, but he preens— something in his animal brain clicks. She likes your nest, your scent, his proud, inner animal tells him.

You slap his arm for texting during a good part of the movie, but it’s because he’s asking his mum where his grandmother’s ring is.

[tiredkatzz]

love the way you draw gaz :3

Thank you! 💖

Here's more (don't let this flop pls)

I totally didn't have to stop drawing multiple times cause I was giggling while looking at the reference pics

[eleu22]

angry boy

[beloveds-embrace]

(p3 fae poly 141 x cursed human reader) || Masterlist || cw: angst

When it came, it did so in layers; not all at once like fire razing down a forest, but like snowfall. Gentle and inevitable, each melting flake a small forgetting.

First, it was names.

You would look at Kyle, his familiar grin flashing like sunlight through trees, and call him by a title from a kingdom long swallowed by moss and time. You would laugh at his expression, uncertain why the sound tasted strange in your mouth, and the room would grow unbearably heavy, as if the walls themselves could sense the fracture forming inside you.

You’d ask Johnny to bring you tea, then wonder aloud- like a child startled awake- if you even liked tea anymore.

You stopped calling Simon by anything at all, not out of cruelty, but because your mind could no longer find the thread of him. As if the loom of your memories had begun unraveling, one golden thread at a time.

You even forgot Simon’s face one day.

He finds you curled in the hollow beside the singing well, where fae voices forever hummed through the mist. The stones were slick with memory, the air heavy with time and sorrow. You were wrapped around yourself, a trembling creature of light and loss.

“I didn’t know who you were.” You whispered when he sat down beside you.

He nodded, his eyes dark wells of unspoken grief. “That’s all right.”

“I thought you were going to take me.” You looked down at your trembling hands. “I thought… you were here to end it.”

“You’ve never been anything but safe with me.” He said. His voice was steady like old oaks, but he didn’t speak again for a long time, and neither did you.

The castle then watched it continue.

its stones bones shivered in mourning as it saw the way your footsteps faltered in the mornings now, how you stood at the edge of the corridor with your hand against the wall, trying to remember which direction leads to the garden and which leads to the throne room. It murmured gentle guidance beneath your feet, shifted the stones so you always turned the right way. But you still hesitates. Still frowned, still murmur apologies under your breath.

“Sorry, sorry… I knew this. I knew this.”

The will-o'-wisps that once flickered mischievous in the shadows now clustered around you like living stars, their tiny bodies pulsing gently as they guided you step by step, glowing a mournful silver instead of their usual playful blue.

You asked John one evening- while he read to you from a worn book in your shared chamber, his voice a steady beacon in your fogging world- if the stars had always looked like that. The question was so soft, so simple, and yet it cracked something in him, because you used to name the constellations like old friends.

You were afraid of shadows that weren’t there yesterday. Of reflections that looked a second too slow in catching up. Of voices you knew, but couldn’t name.

Next, it was time itself.

Not hours or days- years. You’d call for your parents in the twilight, confused and teary when they didn’t come, not remembering they’d passed so long ago not even the tree spirits remembered their faces. You'd clutch letters to your chest like they'd just arrived, unaware they'd been yellowing on your shelf for decades.

You’d forget your own mirror image.

You’d wake screaming from dreams you couldn’t describe. You’d shrink from your reflection, pressing trembling hands over your face and whispering, “That’s not me. That can’t be me. I was- I never- John, John? John, please-“

One night, you stood in the courtyard barefoot in the snow, robe fluttering like moonlight. You stared at the moon and asked no one in particular: “… Am I a prisoner here?”

Thrain was with you, as he always was. He nuzzled your shoulder in response, trying to soothe the fear rising within you. You gripped his fur and leaned against him like a child lost in a storm.

And gods, the way they ached.

Johnny laughed louder now, louder and wilder like the summer storms of the old world, trying to cover the shattering silence your confusion left behind. He called you "lass" in every sentence so you'd feel anchored to something. He walked a step behind you everywhere, pretending it wasn’t because he was worried you might forget where you were.

Ghost began carrying tokens- little things. Ribbons, dried flowers, silver buttons and tinkling bells. Each one had a story of you, and each time you forgot one, he’d hand it to you gently and say, “Yours, love. You gave it to me.” He’d say, like it was a cherished secret between the two of you.

Gaz took to humming your favorite tunes beneath his breath as he worked, even though you no longer sang with him. When you looked at him in confusion, he just smiled and said, “You always liked this one, remember?”

They stayed with you, every hour they could. But John- John suffered.

He sat with you for hours even when you didn’t speak- when words were too difficult and you forgot what clouds were called and what shapes they were. He kissed your hands when they trembled. When you woke in the night and begged to go home, not knowing what "home" meant anymore, he held you close and whispered: “You’re already there, darling. I’m here. I’ll always be here.”

But, still you were slipping like mist through their fingers.

And the castle mourned with them. The walls dimmed, the corridors wept condensation like tears. Will-o-wisps flickered low and quiet, guiding you slowly even when you no longer asked. They stuck to your clothes and your palms, and did not have the heart to leave you alone.

And Thrain watched with the most solemn of gazes.

When you grew too afraid of your own chambers, he stood beneath your window all night. When you refused to eat because you thought the food was poisoned- memories of old war resurfacing from broken pathways- he let you feed him first, licking berries from your hand until you giggled faintly and took a bite yourself. He walked the castle grounds with you in silence, letting you lean against his massive shoulder when your steps faltered.

But none of it stopped the slow unraveling.

One morning, you looked into a mirror and didn’t recognize the face staring back. You reached out and touchd the glass, brows furrowed. “Who is she?”

Kyle was behind you, hands full of ribbons meant for your hair, and he hesitated. “That’s… you, love.”

You blinked, tilting your head. Slowly, a strange expression on your face, you pulled back. “She looks sad.”

He swallowed hard. “You’ve been hurting. But we’re going to fix it.”

“You promise?”

He knelt, took your hand, and kissed your knuckles. “All of us. Every damn one.”

Another day, you looked at John- his beard newly trimmed, his eyes soft and hopeful- and asked him quietly, your hands twisting the soft fabric of your dress. “Are you my husband?”

His face broke, the way cliffs crumble slowly into the sea.

You don’t remember the look he gave you. But you remember that night’s dream- a whisper of a man in a blue cloak with hands like warmth and a voice like thunder saying: “Yes, love. Always.”

And somewhere in your heart, you think you believed it. Even if you didn’t understand why, even if you didnt remember when.

“Will you still love me when I forget what love is?”

“Yes, love. Always.”

P4