#cod

[pickled0ctopus]

for study... of course

[fludderpy]

Ghost & back tattoos are CANON FOR ME OKAYY 🙂‍↕️

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(More artworks on Patreon ✨ thank you for supporting me 🫶🏽)

[k0ingisdone]

you know what.

I am so fucking tired of rape fics. I am a sexual assault survivor and you sexulise rape. why. why do I work so hard to get better and it all get ruined by some horny asshole just like last time. THESE CHARATERS DONT WANT TO RAPE YOU. rape is horrible, its NOT sexy. its traumatizing. why do you keep talking about it and writing about it. STOP MINIMIZING MY PAIN WITH YOUR DERANGED FANTASIES.

Simon Riley isnt a rapist

Leon Kennedy isnt a rapist

and belive it or not Jonathan Crane ISNT A FUCKING RAPIST

dont tell me not to kink shame

do not tell me to skip it

you cannot tell me that my trauma doesn't matter

STOP WRITING RAPE FICS

[rawme-price]

Gaz and reader sit down at the breakfast table with gaz totally composed, looking refreshed and well rested. While reader looks like they've been through hell, bite marks, tired eyes, bruises, rumpled clothes (gazs), hell even bandaids.

Soap and reader sit down at the breakfast table and reader is already serving themselves food, not a care in the world. While soap just folds his arms together and lays his head down, content to go back to sleep. Totally covered in bites, bruises, scratches all along his biceps.

Ghost and reader actually dont sit down at the breakfast table bc they never make it past the living room, flopping down on the couch. Both of them are a mess, ruffled hair, hand shaped bruises, bites that look like they were literally bleeding. It looks like they got into a fist fight, but they both ooze satisfaction.

Price and reader sit down at the breakfast table totally unfazed, not at all bothered by the hickeys both are sporting. Price pours them both coffee, just as awake as he always is. Calm and collected despite the fact they definitely woke the whole house up with their insane freak sex lol.

[z3nt5u]

Fishie.

[eleu22]

[accecakes]

I keep forgetting to post here 😭😭😭

Anywho!! Pride!! 🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈

[quarterlifekitty]

I’ve been thinking a lot about fantasy/medieval settings and arranged marriage….

Gaz is not excited for your union because he anticipates being forced to choose. He expects that only one Kyle may live— the devoted husband, or the devoted comrade. And of course, vows dictate that he choose the former. That he leave battle behind as soon as you wish it. That his brothers in blood no longer be given indefinite roam of his estate. That you will look upon them with disdain if they take his attention away from his marital duties— his duties to you, to your family and future. No wife wants her household to be as a tavern, with soldiers coming and going as they please and making merry late into the night.

He couldn’t be more wrong. You take great care in weaving a new cord— binding for his sword hilt in the colors of your family crest and his. You take up careful pride in the maintenance of his armor— scolding him in his delay to bring it to the smithy for restoration. You perch on his lap and sip mead and wine from his cup while he and his squadron tell tales late into the night— if their welcome has worn out after many weeks, you certainly don’t show it. In fact— when they all return weary and lonely of touch from the soft hands of a lady when their tour is over, you take no issue bringing them comfort. Kyle is pleased to see you on your knees, back, and stomach for men whom he would lay his life down for, and think of him in kind. His only condition being that only your lord husband can finish inside of you.

Johnny is not excited for your union because betrothal means one thing to him: chastity. He’ll not be able to wet his cock until your wedding night, and knowing his luck, you’ll be like the other prudish ladies of the court— only willing to lay supine and serious out of a sense of duty, to provide his heirs, and never purely for pleasure.

He feels his heart could burst from his chest with simmering love, heated to the surface and about to boil when he feels your fingers drift over his crotch during a dinner following your engagement. When you grope and squeeze, looking up at him from the corner of your eye. When every garden date in the rose maze ends with your skirt hiked and him on his knees devouring you while your thighs shake. When you sneak in during a long bath in the middle of the night, having just returned from a weeks-long battle, sitting to face him in his lap and grinding the lips of your hot cunt against his twitching cock while you scrub his bruised and soiled skin before angling him to enter. If you were to be blessed with a child a little early into your union… who would be the wiser?

Price is not excited for your union because he isn’t looking forward to being lovelorn in his own marriage. He’s the type of man who falls easily, he knows— but noble women are cold, especially to an older, battle hardened man they’ve never met before in their lives. He knows the love will come between you, but he anticipates months or years before he will win your unwavering trust, attention, and affection.

He finds himself pleasantly surprised when you curl into him at the feast following your wedding. Your chair moved to be as close to his as possible, leaning against him and sighing in bliss. You cutely fiddle with the rings on his hand while you wait patiently for him to feed you another bite of fruit, kissing his cheek in gratitude and nuzzling your face into his neck. He can feel your mirthful giggle vibrating your lips against his skin. The night you share is nothing short of ecstasy, and he wakes to your head on his chest, legs tangled together.

Simon is not excited for your union because he knows what he is. A low born bastard. His success in the king’s army has seen his rank rise, his title, his means— but it hasn’t changed what people see him as. A violent boar, born into mud. When Price secures a match for him and insists he accept, he has no doubt that you’ll sneer in his direction like the rest of the noblewomen.

Only for him to hear whispers on the day you arrive at court. Fitting, that they’d offer up a bastard to a beast. Suppose they were desperate to have her married off. What a perfect match. You looked down in shame, afraid to meet their gazes. You looked every part the noble lady— well groomed, good posture, dressed delicately and elegant… but nothing would outshine the circumstances of your birth. Father a noble, mother a common scullery maid. Suddenly, Simon cannot bear the thought of letting you tread these waters alone. He wants to take you from the world that judges you, and keep you tucked somewhere safe for him to admire.

[l3ibnest]

modern warfare 4

[doubleloner]

tag your traumatized man comfort character

[abc-ok]

Height difference 😌

[byfawn]

you’d been pushing him all day. little jabs, sarcastic remarks, that dramatic eye roll every time he growled at you to knock it off. but you didn’t. you kept going, testing his patience, until finally, you crossed the line. maybe you just wanted some attention.

“fuck you, simon,” you spat, hands on your hips, chin tilted up in defiance.

the room went dead silent. his eyes darkened, that slow, dangerous tilt of his head sending a shiver down your spine. you’d seen him like this before—right before he pinned you to the nearest surface and made you regret every smartass comment.

but this time, he didn’t grab you. he didn’t growl. he just turned on his heel and walked away.

your stomach dropped. shit.

he returned a minute later, a bar of soap in his hand. your eyes went wide. “no—simon, you wouldn’t—”

“open.” his voice was low, rough, leaving no room for argument.

you clamped your mouth shut, shaking your head.

he sighed, gripping your jaw with one hand, fingers pressing just hard enough to make you gasp. the second your lips parted, he shoved the soap between your teeth. the bitter, chemical taste flooded your mouth, making you gag, tears pricking at your eyes.

“keep it there,” he ordered, watching as you squirmed, soap suds dripping down your chin. “til you learn some fucking manners.”

you whined around the bar, hands gripping his wrist, but he didn’t budge. his thumb brushed over your lower lip, smearing the foam, his voice dropping to a rough whisper.

“next time you wanna run that filthy pretty mouth, i’ll wash it out with my cock instead. understood?”

you nodded frantically, the soap making your tongue tingle, your cheeks burning.

“good girl.”

[skyrigel]

Y/n: Simon, we need to talk.

Simon: Is it bout' the body in freezer?

Y/n:

Y/n: It is now.

[fludderpy]

Sometimes I think I draw his body a lil bit TOO bulky and his waist a bit TOO tiny but then I SEE HIS CANON INGAME MODEL.

I am not okay

[rawme-price]

Soap teasing u abt some insanely fruity cocktail ur drinking so u ask "do you want a sip?" And before he can grab ur glass u grip his jaw and pull him into a kiss. Literally forcing the drink into his mouth in front of the whole table, grinning when he swallowed and you lick into him for a moment to savor the taste.

Anyways ghost has to literally scruff soap to stop him from going down on u in the middle of a public bar lol