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hey, just calling to let you know

—⠀⠀that i loved you.

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── .✦ masterlist .

── .✦ boundaries .

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀. . .⠀baby? please call me back.

Hi. Just wanted to let you know the boundaries link is not working on mobile for me. Not sure if it is an issue with my app or something with the link. You dont need to reply to this. Just wanted to let you know. I like your writing.

thank you so much for the love, sweetheart !!

I actually noticed this a while back, but... for some reason, I can't edit links on my phone n I always gotta do it on my computer, so I've been a bit lazy about it 😭😭

should be fixed now!

#── .✦ fork's asks.

steam i have never loved you more in my whole entire life wow holy shit

#── .✦ fork's rambles.#mw2

♡ | simon x bratty!reader pure filth. reader is fem! read at your own risk,, explicit. heavy degredation.

simon's never met a brattier thing. eyes wide, nails pressed into your palm like a defiant mutt that thought it might bite back at its owner without consequence. every time you tried to pick a fight, all he saw were little fangs and a temper that needed to be soothed with a pat on the head or fingers stretching out your cunt.

you'd never really gotten along all that well with the brit. he saw you as a sweet little cherry; ripe for the taking as long as you didn't swallow the cyanide pit. he never trusted anyone, anyway—it's not like you were special.

or, rather... you were special to him, in the same way that a doe was to a hunter.

(you were easy prey, if he could get past the sour attitude.)

he hated talking to, but he loved touching you. his body on yours was the cure to the headaches your annoying whining gave him. of course, he knew you were baiting him into this—he wasn't stupid, just addicted.

like today, when you'd texted him at work. not once, not twice... not even five times. a stream of texts had pestered him all day. they'd gotten filthier and filthier until you'd inevitably sent him what you'd be wearing tonight, the sight of it burning into his mind and unfortunately sending his blood flooding south.

so when he stormed in on your apartment door, he was fuming. there you were, glancing up from your couch with a smug smile that made him want to bury your face into the couch and see how deep he'd have to go before you weren't so smug anymore.

"fuckin' testing me, pet? y'think i don't have important work t'do, think all i got time for is paying attention to your bratty little cunt?" his words are scathing as he tugs off his shirt. he's not wasting time—especially since you've asked for it.

"jeez, asshole, not gonna say hi first?" you manage, sitting upright as you prop yourself up on your elbows to watch the flex of his abs.

"we're past introductions, baby. sent me those filthy pictures like a whore, an' you expect me not to treat you like one?"

and fuck, he does. it doesn't take him very long before he has you on his lap, clothes off apart from the lingerie he'd seen in the photos.

(you were a damn sight, like this.)

he grinds you, hands firm against your hips, against his cock until he's throbbing in whatever sweatpants he'd managed to throw on after his quick shower back on base.

while he delights in the sight of your pretty panties, his desire outweighs any kind of preservation. thick fingers tear at it until it snaps, lace fraying and ripping apart. he'll buy you another pair, some day. maybe if you're good.

it doesn't take long for him to shimmy his pants down enough for his cock to slap against your lower belly, twitching with every one of his heartbeats. "gonna stuff you full, fuckin' brat. you send those pictures to other guys? just fuckin' desperate for attention, eh? would let anyone fuck you?"

"no, simon... ngh, just you..." you manage, gripping his biceps for stability. your words are stammered, wilting at the edges—no kind of plea would lessen what he was going to do to you anyway.

simon got off on it, the idea that you only wanted him to touch you like this. he loved the thought that you were his, as bratty as you were. he rewards your words by sliding into you, bottoming out with a groan. his cock is snug against your gummy walls, throbbing every time you shift.

he carves his space into you—your body won't be forgetting this for a long time, if he has any say in it.

the feeling of being so filled up pleases you more than it hurts. you bury your head into his neck, nose pressing up against the thick of his muscle. but like the brat you are, you can't seem to stop yourself. against his neck, you mumble, "is it in yet?"

there's a moment where simon freezes completely. his hands move to your thighs reflexively, giving a harsh squeeze. he doesn't look happy with you, but what did you expect?

he flips the two of you over, pulling out and pinning you into the soft cushion of the couch and leering over you. "you're lucky i'm this hard. would've spanked your poor li'l cunt till she cries f'me. maybe next time, huh?"

he doesn't wait for your to adjust again when he slides back in. he starts a brutal pace, the thick of his cock slipping against your insides while he grunts his pleasure into your ear. "feel it yet, luv?"

── .✦ masterlist .

#simon riley cod #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #call of duty fanfic #simon ghost riley fanfic #ghost x reader #ghost cod #simon ghost x reader #ghost smut #tf 141 x reader #tf141 #cod drabble #── .✦ fork's writing .

if in bunny!reader x wolf!simon, simon's hobby is wolf hunting, does that mean he hunts his own kind??

i love this question ty omg,, so there's a few reasons i chose to add that detail

mission in mw2 - soap asks ghost, "you got a tactical use for whiskey?" // ghost replies, "wolf hunting."

simon has always had issues with his self-perception. i headcanon him to think of himself as quite evil, especially evident in some of his dialogue with soap ("i want you to be better than me, johnny.") !! i think, in this case where my au is not exactly military focused, it makes sense for him to be hunting himself.

simon is a wolf hybrid! he is not hunting other hybrids, just hunting the actual animal - mayhaps hinting at the fact that he hates his more animalistic side and believes that wolves are 'too violent'.

thank you for asking!

#── .✦ fork's asks.#wolf!simon x bunny!reader

★ | growing old; simon x gn!reader

fluff + 141, no cw.

every single person said that simon riley would never be able to keep a spouse. every single person said that they'd get bored of him, or get freaked out and run for the hills on their wedding ceremony.

well, unfortunately for the several bets that had sprung up as a result of that, simon had kept you a very, very long time. in fact, you were now celebrating the 50th year of your marriage. your old man was still the cheeky bastard he'd always been, but not once had either of you considered divorce.

the men are sat in your living room, chatting over beers and sitting around the TV as it plays some old-school rom-com that you'd insisted on. of course, price had wanted to see football—not that he ever got his way in you house.

you carry in the cake—one you'd made, and one you'd continue to make every single year. sure, the frosting had gotten shakier as you'd aged, but the taste had always remained the same, and it was damn good. as always.

as you make your way to the table in the centre of the room, you're intercepted by kyle, his arms reaching to steady the cake from you. "uh, watch that. i gotcha, just go sit down."

you'd retort that he's not much younger than you, but the gesture is appreciated. you lower yourself beside your husband, reclining into his outstretched arm. the four of you—kyle, simon, price, and you—eat in silence before kyle breaks it.

"fifty years, huh, simon?"

simon blinks beside you, his arm tightening slightly. "yep. couldn't 'ave left me, i'm charmin' as all hell."

you whack his shoulder, fixing him with a stare, while price starts a laugh that ends in a hearty cough. must be all the cigars, over the years. but since you're all in for the rest of life together, he's started on the road to quitting.

"y'know, i always had a bet with soap that you'd break up in a few years. guess i owe him twenty, huh?" kyle speaks, and he's staring into the distance—that same look you've been used to since the four of you had lost the scot.

"least he didn't have to grow old n'crusty like the rest of us pensioners, save him the trouble of achin' bones," simon says, though it's quiet and resigned, like an old wound still festering with regret.

(soap would've loved to cash in his twenty bucks.)

── .✦ masterlist .

݁ Ი𐑼⋆ | more bunny!reader but this time wolf!simon first meetings, first fuckings... oh. (suggestive.) expect pack141 in the future.

simon's had a soft spot for the wicked and wild, and the thrill of such things leads him to wolf hunting. it's a gruesome hobby, but he likes it—he never takes more than he needs, anyways.

he usually heads out to more rural spots—rolling farmlands nestled between wooded areas—it's quite helpful to the farmers there anyways, considering they've been warding the big predators away from their livestock for years.

on his way through the brush, nearest to the farmlands, is when he meets you. a scruffy little bunny, staring at him with a pitiful expression, having gotten yourself tangled in an old wire fence.

(and a big wolf like him? oh... he'd never seen sweeter prey practically offered to him.)

your pitiful whine brings him to his senses; you're hurt and needy and hungry, and unfortunately, simon is, occasionally, a good man. it takes a good minute of sawing with a hunting knife before he's able to get you free.

the second he's got you free, you try to kick off. but before your little cotton tail disappears, simon is gripping you, his hands around your waist as he knocks you back into the grass. "not so fast, sweet'eart. gotta get'cha nice n'proper, eh? bet y'don't even have a place t'stay. it's okay, bun. i'll keep y'warm."

you stare, wide-eyed into the face of the man who had saved you; big wolfish ears twitching in cocky victory. but he's right. you'd only gotten stuck in the wire because you'd been running from a crop theft gone wrong, and simon had found you, saved you, and was now offering you a place to stay.

you offer a meek nod.

(stupid bunny.)

the walk back is mostly silent, his arm hoisting you up on his hip like a toddler who'd just thrown a big tantrum. his thumb rubs in comforting circles across your thigh, pressing against you every time you squirm in silent warning.

simon's cabin is warm with the crackling fireplace, and more homey than you'd expect of a wolf. he sits you on his couch, fixing the small cuts the wire had made with gauze and antiseptic.

and he'll let you stay the night, of course—he's a gentleman when he wants to be, right? he'll even let you stay in his room, on his bed, curled around his pillow. it's fine, he'll take the couch.

what he doesn't expect is waking up the next morning to mewling and whining. when he moves to investigate—what clothes he had offered you thrown aside, in favour of the blushing heat crawling up your spine and neck. your thighs were clamped tight around his pillow, and your nose buried into it like you could absorb his scent if you inhaled enough of it.

(fuck. what'll he do with you?)

── .✦ masterlist .

🐻 | bear!simon x bunny!reader

neighbour!simon, fem!reader, explicit.

simon was not the type to enjoy moving house. as much as he were used to moving away for long times from long deployments, simon hated it. he hated how moving required picking up what life he'd established, even if it were small. he didn't understand how people could pack their lives up and ship across the country just like that. and plus, being deployed was different. a home was somewhere he could stay in peace, away from the gunfire.

but even he, too, needed a move here and there. wasn't really a must, but he wanted to downsize—he needed something a little smaller than what he had. it's not like he spent all his time there anyways—he was usually on base, and taking care of a bigger apartment was asking too much.

so he packed up, moved a few blocks away, holed up in a little apartment building. the day he moved in, carrying just a few boxes (he didn't have much to begin with), he couldn't help but notice the person right beside his door.

cute. you were wide-eyed and cute. stared at him across the hallway before sheepishly asking him if he minded moving out of your way so you could get to your apartment. lo and behold, you opened the door beside his and slipped in.

simon didn't give it much thought, to be honest. didn't really care how cute you were. he wasn't the type to want anyone, let alone a sweet little bunny. he doubted you could defend yourself if you joined a fistfight with a gun—he needed someone who could protect themselves while he was gone on long deployments.

but you thought differently. walked past his apartment extra times a day, hoping you'd catch him on the way out so you could get a better look at his biceps, or the scar on his cheek, dragging down to his lip. the bear was handsome as hell.

you lengthened your grocery lists, made sure the bags were a tiny bit too heavy, just in case you might see him in the parking lot and ask him for help.

you knocked on his door in the afternoon, shyly looking up at him with those big doe eyes, biting your lip and asking him, "um, sir, do you mind helping? my sink is leaking... and i just don't want to... bother anyone else."

simon had been pissed, the first time he had met you. he always heard some kind of excited prattling from through the thin walls, as you excitedly rambled to a friend. you just talked, and talked, and talked—simon's ears were going to fall off, subject to your loud conversations through the walls.

so maybe, if it shut you up, he'd entertain your silly little requests.

so here he was, under your sink, on his back, his shirt under his head as he'd taken it off.

(you'd increased the AC in your room, hoping he'd take his shirt off. sneaky little thing.)

you sat on the counter, uncaring about what he was saying about your sink. he kept talking and talking about the mechanics of it so you could fix it for yourself next time, but you were hooked on the slight rasp of his voice and the way his abs flexed as he tightened your pipes.

then simon was done, and you grabbed his arm as he sat up. you didn't want him to leave, not so soon."sir? can i pay you? um... don't have much money on me to give you, but i could give you something else."

and fuck him, you were so needy. felt your hand on his arm tighten every time he moved as if to leave. simon knew he was falling straight into a trap, and if he was being honest, he's not sure he minded. he sighs, the crease between his brows deepening. "'yer alright, luv. ain't gonna ask y'for anythin'."

you pouted. like a sad, kicked bunny. pouted at him with wide eyes and flattened ears, tail twitching unhappily. "please? stay a bit, let me... um. i can make you something to eat. cookies? i make really good cookies."

simon was really good at dodging negotiation tactics. really good at surviving the harshest forms of torture. but he hadn't been trained to dodge the torture suddenly straining in his pants as he took you in, pretty pink frills on your skirt, your thighs which dissapeared under the fabric. so he stayed, sat there whilst you busied about the kitchen, whipping together some cookies.

when they were done, you presented them to him, real giddy, jumping on your heels. "here, try one."

before he could reach for one, you sat yourself in his lap, right on top of him, offering the cookie to his lips. simon grunts, his hand instinctively moving to grip your hip. "watch y'rself, luv. don' wanna start somethin' you ain't gonna finish."

shame, that you were so confident, really. maybe then you wouldn't have ended up grinding on his lap like a bitch in heat. maybe then he wouldn't have bent you right over the counter, pushing your pretty skirt up to leer at the sopping wet patch of underwear over your cunt. "mh, she's real pretty, eh, luv?"

you were so confident up until you came on his fingers. simon didn't even give you a second to think, his fingers pressing deeper, squishing against your gummy walls. "c'mere, darlin', jus' wanna have some more."

you were losing your mind, hands gripping against the table, cheek mushed to the wood, your ears barely registered the thumping of the chair's legs every time he forced his fingers back into you. then it stops, and before you can whine, the sound of his fly unzipping reaches your ears.

in one smooth stroke of his cock, the rest of your confidence dissipated. the stretch burned, like he was splitting you in half, god, he was too fucking big. "s-sir, sir, it's too big..."

"hush, take it. y'asked for this, bun," he grunts, practically folding you over, his hips forcing against yours, his hand on your jaw. his thumb rubs over the corner of your mouth, swiping up the drool that slips from your mouth.

poor thing. you shouldn't have poked the bear, but you just couldn't help it, could you? craved the way his cock filled you up so good. he was going to ruin you for everyone else.

"ah, m'gonna fill you right up," he grunts out into your ear, heavy breaths puffing against your skin.

"ah, fuck... yes, please. please, sir, want you..." you're cut off by a desperate moan as he thrusts into you heavily, his bodyweight pressing against you. the chain around his neck, dog tags, press into the skin on your back, branding against your skin, leaving a little red mark, pressing his name into you.

when he comes inside you, he huffs, rubbing your clit gently as he pulls out, softening cock resting against your thigh. "good fuckin' girl."

(you may just have to poke the bear a little bit more.)

── .✦ masterlist .

🖊 | academic weapon!john mactavish x reader. cheeky soap, suggestive / explicit, no mention of genitalia/gender

he flaunts his averages like he's somehow morally better because he can get stupidly high grades and rack in tons of internship offers. he's annoying, at best. somedays, you just want to strangle him; wring him dry like a dishtowel and watch that snarky grin drain from his face.

frankly speaking, you hate him because he's better than you. you used to be the best, until life —or rather a shitty boyfriend, now ex-boyfriend—got ahead of you and decided that you no longer needed good grades. oh well.

(so what if you're petty? he's an asshole.)

regardless, just because you fell behind a little doesn't mean you can't catch back up. hencewhy you've been studying late in the library for the past week, trying to prepare for tomorrow's assessment.

unfortunately for you, the desk you'd chosen to sit at wasn't exactly alone. only an hour into your study session, a familiar face had decided to sit his ass beside you. you were too stubborn to move, but he was posing much more of a distraction than you'd like.

the conversation he strikes somehow manages to piss you off immediately.

"why're you in 'ere? y're always with that boyfriend o'yers, figured he'd 'ave kept you busy."

"i broke up with him, for your information," you retort, flashing him the finger.

the conversation devolves immediately, johnny poking flirtatious lines at you while you keep not-so-subtly telling him to stuff his cheeky one-liners up his ass.

he provokes you with a hand on your thigh, and then a hand up your shorts, and then... well. i mean, who could stop him? it's not like you had a boyfriend. and it's not like, in your sleep deprived brain, this was a bad idea either.

his breath ghosts against your ear. "see? y'can't even focus, how're you supposed ta be better n' me at this? tch... bonnie thing like ye shouldn't worry 'bout these hard things."

you're pretty sure you've never clenched harder in your life, at his words. which, shame on you, by the way—you're supposed to be doing work, not getting finger-fucked under the table by your academic rival the day before the test.

(damn bastard. you'll get him back for this.)

── .✦ masterlist .

#── .✦ fork's writing .#johnny mactavish x reader #johnny soap mactavish x reader #johnny mactavish #johnny soap mactavish #sergeant johnny mactavish #soap mactavish x reader #soap mactavish #soap call of duty #john soap mactavish #soap cod #soap x reader #cod soap #john mactavish x reader #captain john mactavish #john mactavish

🦇 | vamp!simon x reader fem!reader, suggestive.

pretty you, having just moved in for college. but of course, with the country's economic state declining by the minute, you couldn't exactly pay for it yourself—what better solution than a roommate? logically, you'd want another woman, maybe one who kept clean and didn't cause much of a bother.

it was just that not many women wanted to room in such a shitty side of the city. so you gave in and found a male roommate. he said he was military—you went with it because he was big enough that it made some sort of sense.

he barely speaks to you. he leaves for weeks at a time on 'missions' and comes back, stained in blood, while wearing a mask that looks an awful lot like some cartoonish thing he bought at a halloween store so he could pretend he was.. well, military. you weren't even sure if that kind of thing was allowed in the military.

(—might you have brought home a serial killer? oh well. he pays his bills.)

he's also pale—unnervingly pale. but you chalk it up to the fact that he rarely goes out during the day, only training and going for runs in the night. he says it's because he's a night owl.

with years of claimed military history under his belt, it was easy for you to just believe him, when he asked you not to ask any questions.

in an effort to get to know the man that you lived with, you offered him a nice steak dinner. repeatedly. he had dodged your efforts the first few times, but today you'd finally gotten the chance.

(wide eyed and pretty, sweet and delicious; how could he say no to such saccharine prey like you?)

he'd been watching you slice carrots when you'd nicked yourself. there's not that much blood, really. it's a small cut, but you hadn't been paying attention. hissing, you grab your finger with your palm and squeeze—it smears a small amount of blood over your skin, and has simon's pupils dilating.

(he'd only been eating criminals off the street. he'd never had a pretty thing like you at the mercy of his fangs.)

you're reaching for the band-aids in a cupboard when he comes up behind you, hands on your waist and takes them from where you're struggling to reach. at the same time, he practically folds you over the counter.

"fuckin'... teasing me like that," he hisses, pupils dilated fully, the usual colour in his eyes overridden by pitch black. his breath curls against your ear in a warm puff that smells like smoke and desperation. his body is cold, and he nuzzles into your neck, molding himself against your back. suspiciously, you note his thick bulge, pressed against the cleft of your ass, throbbing with every one of his ragged inhales.

(...like an overgrown mutt.)

── .✦ masterlist .

boundaries here.. this could be pretty but i gave up

you can:

send asks

send requests

dms, mentions

friendly critique

you can't:

repeatedly make requests for the same thing - i guarantee i've seen it

use my work for ai / c.ai especially

copy / plagarise / translate

she/her is fine for me, but please NO they/them. pronouns in bio are what i prefer at a given time.

faq: font colours: a2a1ce > b1c9cd

i am a meek shepherd, —⠀⠀here are the lambs to my flock.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀cod mw 𐄁 rdr2 𐄁 marvel masterlist shows queued posts as well. expect one a day if active.

#── .✦ masterlist .

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