c’mere i wanna show you somethin’

«25» i like a lotta stuff i write?

[katybaby00]

baby's Masterlist

***—includes smut

Supernatural

Dean Winchester

Life as i knew it ***

The one that got away // Part I  Part II

Sam Winchester

Guys my age//ABO***

Call Of Duty

König

Sweet Fairy // part ll

Marvel

nothing here... yet

[pervyslut-lmao]

Soon as you start talking about some “oh did I find your little spot?”

It’s done. It’s over. I’m cumming

Bonus points if you start going faster just to hit it over n over 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫

[bruisedfig]

peter claffey being fancast as ghost might be the best thing to ever happen on twitter cause holy ?? fuck ????

[katybaby00]

Im hyperventilating

[musings-from-mars]

"can you lock tf in" babes i have adhd i am locked tf out with the keys inside

[y2kcompatible]

[sunshine-tattoo]

man we gotta get regular porn back on this website

[my-dailydreams]

[katybaby00]

I just got my account back anger not being able to log in for over a year...

I MISSED YOU BABY'S

🥹🫶🏻

[suguann]

an. a little 'and-they-were-roommates' drabble series to get me back into writing because it's been an age. | masterlist | part two

It starts as a situation built off convenience: he needed someone to take care of his place while he was gone, and you needed a place to stay. 

Simon never thought he’d get anything out of it other than coming home to a house that feels lived-in and the entryway clear of envelopes from months of neglecting his mail—another voice throughout the day besides the intrusive ones in his head that spun like a carousel with the word work etched on top. 

It’s not until you show up on his doorstep, three boxes and a measly duffel bag crowding your arms, that he thinks he really should’ve thought this through better. He’ll only realize this after the fact—weeks late, sleepless nights filled with images of daisy-shaped buttons down the front of a summer dress and a smile that nearly knocks him flat off his feet.

As it is, he’ll blame it on the handful of sleepless hours from tiny airplane seats and energy drinks sleuthing through his system that clouded his judgment, then admit it’s nice coming home to a woman who looks pretty reading a book on his living room couch.

Only his soap-slick fist in his bathroom late at night will know the honest-to-God truth. That is if there was ever a god he believed in. 

He never claimed to be a good man. 

(Can anyone claim to be good in his line of work?)

Just an honest one.

So it goes something like this: he tries not to come off as an obsessed, lonely fuck (the jury is out on either) by just existing in the same space as you whenever the opportunity arises—reading the paper while you make breakfast on the stove he hasn’t touched in too long to remember when, flipping through a book Simon didn’t even know he owned while you water plants you picked up on your way from work, watching whatever you have on the telly before you both go to bed—then he’s on a plane, being shipped out to who knows where with a gun holstered to his hip.

Rinse and repeat. 

The fourth time he comes home after an assignment keeps him away longer than expected, he finds you in the kitchen, covered in flour, a cute, frilly apron tied around your waist that he’s never seen you wear before. A smile curls the edges of your mouth as you look over at him, everything in your face soft and attentive—a vision suddenly takes shape.

You with a ring on your finger, Simon calling you his little wife, getting to hold your hand whenever he feels like it, and not because yours accidentally brushed up against his. His hand fisting in your hair, bending you over the counter, your cheek covered in powdery confectionery, fingers rucking up your skirt and apron because he can.

He blinks once, twice, and the little fantasy falls apart. 

Except you’re still in his kitchen, smiling prettily and happy to see him of all things. Imagine that.

Your lashes flutter, making crescent shadows across your cheeks. “How was your trip?” you ask. “You look more tired than you usually do.”

A shrug, a dismissal. “I’m fine.”

“Are you sure? I have some tea that might help.”

“Tea.” He repeats to fill the quiet if only to stand there a little longer, his bag still slung over his shoulder and his clothes smelling like recycled air. 

“Yeah, I got it from a friend a few weeks ago when I caught this cold that was going around the office.” Sometimes, you ramble, and he can do nothing more than let you get it out of your system—not that he minds. “I swear it’s nothing janky or anything. Just try it; it might help.”

You’re so damn earnest about it that he can’t bring himself to say no.

“Sure,” he says and watches a wide, satisfied smile stretch across your face.

It’d be easier if you weren’t so sweet and gave a sincere fuck about the comings and goings of his life. If the smell of your perfume wasn’t following Simon everywhere—sugary vanilla faintly clinging to his balaclava even after he’s washed it—as a reminder of what’s just out of his reach.

(A mindfuck is what it is.)

[katybaby00]

okay, someone help, i’m looking for ANY CoD fanfic that is based off the song The Death of Peace of Mind by Bad Omens.

i neeeeed it😫

if anyone can point me in that direction i’d be so so grateful 🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻

[rowarn]

cw: gun play, throat fucking with a gun im sorry, simon coming untouched, masturbation (reader) I NEEDED TO GET THIS OUT OF MY BRAIN SO unedited

simon with a gun kink that he's kept hidden would be crazy.

imagine ur big, beefy husband coming home after a long deployment. he's tense, his fists are clenched tight and it's clear he's got a ton of steam he needs to blow off.

at first, you expect a normal night together of him plowing you into the mattress so hard that the bed creaks and hits the wall with every thrust. the kind of fucking that leaves you trembling for 15 minutes after you've finished and cleaned up. the kind that has him pulling you into his arms to soothe and coo at.

but something is different this time.

he starts removing his gear one by one as usual but instead of removing the holster with his gun and safely placing it down, he unholsters the gun completely.

you're watching with bated breath as he unloads the weapon, carefully pulling it back and peering into the chamber. you're watching his hands move, admiring how strong his fingers are and how the veins in his hands bulge out with every movement

you deviously excited by the time he approaches you -- the gun still in his hand.

he brings it up, placing the nozzle against your chin, finger hovering off the the trigger. but you know how well-trained he is -- how good he is at his job. you know that he could have that finger on the trigger in a milisecond, faster than you would even be able to comprehend.

"open," he orders, a voice that sends shivers down your spine. it's firm, rough, authoritative. it's a tone you imagine he uses when he's on the field.

soliders bow to his every whim and you're no better. but unlike those who are trained to obey him because it's their job -- you obey him because you know if you do, you'll get the sweetest reward in the world; that thick, full cock still hidden in his pants.

your panties are already wet and sticky and your brain’s already feeling fuzzy by the time you open your mouth. 

the shock of cold is the first thing you recognize followed by the tang of metal as the weapon settles on your tongue. your lashes flutter as you look up at your husband, face still obscured by his balaclava but his pretty, brown eyes burn holes into you nevertheless.

he slowly and carefully slides the gun deeper into your mouth until it presses against the back of your throat and you involuntarily gag. a groan rips from his cheeks as he watches the tears gather on your lashline.

"that's it, pretty," he coos, "bet you wish that was my cock huh?" you nod your head as best you can with the weapon lodged in your throat, "maybe i'll give it to you if you put on a real nice show for me."

his words take a moment to register in your fuzzy brain but once they do, your hand is flying down between your legs at record speed. you slip it beneath the band of your panties, barely lifting his shirt that you're wearing out of the way so you can finally find relief in the ache that has settled in your cunt.

your folds are wet and sticky as they part around your fingers and you struggle to swallow around the gun in your mouth. there's no give to the metal and drool begins to dribble down your shin in long, thin strings.

simon's cock is hard, heavy and leaking against his thigh. this has been one of his best kept secrets, to watch you submit to his gun -- to the weapon he has used to murder countless people with.

and here you were, doing as you're told, throating his gun while you play with your pretty cunt. he can hear how wet you are, can see the way you desperately hump your own hand trying to get your fingers deeper and deeper. but they'll never feel as good as his, you both know this.

so all you can do is tearfully look up at him through clumped lashes as you choke and gag on the gun he continues to keep stuffed down your throat.

his cock throbs at the thought of being where his weapon is now. he envies it.

you mutter something, muffled and incomprehensible but he knows what you're saying. he can see the way your pupils blow out, hear the way your breathing grows erratic and choppy. you're trembling and breathless, messily jerking your hips into your own hand as you desperately look up at him -- begging for anything to push you over the edge.

his finger finally lands on the trigger of his gun and he sees your eyes widen but the desperate, teary look you give him only tells him more of what you need.

there's a muted, empty click when he pulls the trigger. the gun is empty, you both know this -- but it sends you over the edge anyway.

simons cock twitches and twitches, balls tight and heavy before he's spurting his load down his thigh at the sight of you cumming on your own fingers and moaning around his gun.

the hand holding the weapon trembles as he cums untouched at the entire scene. you pull your head back, gasping for air before pulling your hand out of your panties.

simon lurches forward, you don't even have time to react before he's taking the sticky, messy, cum-covered fingers into his mouth.

he's on top of you, pressing you down beneath his weight, the gun tossed and forgotten on the bed because now all he can think about is fucking you into the mattress. <3

[katybaby00]

when i tell you my jaw dropped

[katybaby00]

I LOVE YOU POOKS

I LOVE YOU POOKIE BEAR😫🥹

[daily-spooky]

[thememedaddy]

[suguann]

When you first introduce him, Simon instantly knows that he hates your now ex-boyfriend—especially after he broke up with you only two months into the relationship, and the reason behind it sets his teeth on edge.

You’re perfect and so sweet; how could he—

“He broke up with me because…I um…Do I really have to say it? It’s embarrassing.” 

He bumps his knee into yours because he really fucking sucks at saying the right thing when the moment calls for it. “You don’t have to say anything.”

With a huff, you get a little flustered and glance down into your glass of beer, brows furrowed. “I couldn’t make him fit.” 

It’s so soft, but he hears it as if you’d shouted it across the bar.

The only thought he can think of is that your ex-boyfriend is an idiot once he has your back pressed up against his chest and trembling thighs spread over top of his. Three of his thick fingers already work deep inside of you, filling the room with filthy squelching sounds and your breathy moans.

His thumb carefully drags over your clit, loving how you twitch in his arms. “See? Someone just needed to stretch your little pussy properly, huh?”

“Mhm.” You nod, pressing yourself further into him, thighs butterflying open. “It feels so good.”

“You’re so loose and wet. I bet my cock would slip right in.”

Your walls clench and flutter around him, and it takes everything in him not to toss you onto the bed and fuck you into his sheets. “Simon, can you fuck me? Please?” 

It’s hard to deny you when you ask so sweetly, but he can’t give you what you want—not yet. You whine when he pulls one of his fingers out, but it cuts off into a surprised squeak when he grabs your smaller hand to bring it between your thighs. 

“Put one of your fingers inside your pussy.”

You turn your head to look up at him, kiss-bitten lips pulled into a pout. “But—”

“Come on, love, be good for me.” Teeth nip your jaw as a warning. “I know you can be so good for me.”

Slowly, you ease your finger in beside his with little pants of his name. His cock jumps against your back as he watches your cunt open up to suck in the intrusion—it makes his stomach twist. Simon traps your finger between his and curls them alongside his inside you, tearing a sharp cry from your chest.

“You’re so gorgeous.” His words are raw, rumbling somewhere deep within his chest. “I’m gonna make you feel so good. So full. Better than your boyfriend ever could.”

[katybaby00]

the sweetest baby’s 🫶🏻🫶🏻

[katybaby00]

Sweet fairy part:02

König x fairy!reader A/N: i’ve been working this weekend and have done nothing but think about some fics i wanna write and who i wanna write for. i hope you enjoy✨ credits: @cafekitsune for their wonderful dividers. please go check them out. warnings: mild violence, blood, angst...

Before I can make out who is intruding on my meadow I'm shot down in a net, the wire and rope stinging my skin as it makes contact. König is watching as I fly up to check our surroundings, noticing the shift in in the air. He hears branches snap and the sound of the net being launched in my direction and he takes off after the unknown people lurking at the edge of the meadow. The soldier in him going into overdrive at a potential threat.

König is sprinting to the edge of the meadow and as he gets closer he can hear a man shouting orders at his team members to "Gather the fairy! We'll be getting paid tonight boys!" Fairy bodies, hair, everything on a fairy is valuable, and to the highest bidder? Nothing is off the table. A live fairy? worth millions. König knows this and it tears an angry and primal growl from his chest as he reaches the men.

He unleashes on the group of men. König comes into view of the men and twirls the knife expertly in his hands. "Tell me who is paying you, maybe I will let you live." His accent heavy and chest heaving. He takes a small step towards them and they all reach for their weapons, but König is faster. He takes 2 of the men down with knives, slicing ones jugular and twisting his neck like an owl. He grabs the other of the two and slams him on the ground, slicing his femoral artery. Leaving him screaming and slowly loosing consciousness.

Furious that they could harm something so delicate and beautiful when all you do is take care of things. His blood pumps and boils as he plunges his knife into the leader of the groups ribcage and twists, his body falls to the ground like a rag doll. The other man can only watch, as König turns to him his body radiates anger. "Now, abschaum, who has paid you to capture my fairy?"

What I wasn't prepared for was the shear weight of the rope and wire against my tiny body. I feel as thought I weigh a thousand pounds at 4 inches tall. I struggle against the net as it singes and burns my skin every time I do. I try to move once more to try and free myself, no use. I am laying on my side trying not to move, everything hurts.

König is panting heavily as he slices the mans throat after he gives him the information he asked for. He is instantly pulled from his almost blackout rage, "Y/n." he whispers and turns away from the bodies and looks for you in the meadow. "Y/n!" He yells. No response. "Nein bitte, Y/n!?" König shouts.

I hear König ever so faintly, the buzzing of the electricity in the wires and the burning of my own skin drowning his calls for me out. "König!" I manage to scream. "I'm here! Please!" I use all the strength I can and shout for him, hoping he hears me. König runs over to where he hears me, close to where he had been sitting before. He bends down to me and as he cups his hands around my entangled body he's shocked from the wires. He winces softly and cuts them free from my body. "Oh meine süße Fee, are you alright?" He gently rests his thumb on my back and sits me up as thoughtfully as he can, not wanting to risk injuring you further.

His eyes scan my small form and they land on my wings, his face etched with concern. "Your wings..." König helps me to sit up further and inspect my wings. I look over my shoulder at the almost translucent and burned wings, or what's left of them, from the electric wires. I look down at his palm and shut my eyes tight, a tear rolling down my face and onto his palm. "A fairy is nothing without their wings." I say softly, remembering the words of the fae king. If you are to ever loose your wings, don't come back.

König looks down at me softly. "Oh Schatz, please do not cry." He gently lifts my chin with his finger. "You are still meine süße Fee, Ja?" He looks at me through his sniper hood and tilts his head awaiting my answer. "Yes, but a fairies power is held in their wings, I have no wings." I cry softly as I look up at him. I hold onto his finger and sob softly. I feel like a huge hole has been pierced through my chest.

I lean against his finger and hug it tight and cry. König sits by the tree he had earlier and gets comfortable, letting me go through the emotions of loosing my wings. His chest puffs ever so slightly, his protective instincts kicking in. "What if... I kept you?" König says this hesitantly knowing fairies are very wary of humans, especially being asked to be kept by one. I slowly look up at him, my body going slightly rigid and heart rate increasing. He notices this and continues. "Not like a pet or a prize to show off, to help you, take care of you, things of that nature." he says softly. I relax as he explains himself, a relief washes over me and I slump against his finger contentedly.

I smile and nod up at him. "Yes König. I would appreciate that very much." The corners of his eyes wrinkle underneath his sniper hood and he stands from his spot up against the tree and slowly heads back to the KorTac base. Fairy in hand, and a newfound protectiveness blooming in his chest.

[katzenmas]

Simon who has never fallen in love before, so when he starts catching feelings for you he thinks he's sick. He was perfectly fine a few months ago, there was nothing amiss, even now he can't exactly pinpoint when his heart started palpatating or his palms started sweating. he was never uncomfortable in his own skin, but this felt just like that! he was fidgety, his throat went dry, his face was flaring up as if he had a fever. it always happened randomly, the only common denominator? you. It was crazy! you and Simon have been on the same task force for about four years now, he was doing just fine before. slowly befriending you and keeping a civil relationship with you. He thinks it could be an allergic reaction? but why wouldn't it flare up in the previous years. It just made no sense. Simon almost drove himself crazy trying to figure it out. Even know, he was sitting in the lounge area with his elbows on his knees, face concentrated in deep thought. It was Johnny who found him trying to burn a hole through the wall with his intense gaze. ' LT? you doin' okay there?' The sudden question ripped Simon away from his thoughts. He stared at Johnny for a few minutes, the latter slowly becoming increasingly more nervous as the silence stretched between them. 'alrighty then i'll leave ya to it' ' Johnny wait' even Simon was confused with his behaviour, but maybe an outside perspective is what he needed. 'i have an...affliction' Johnny took a seat and listened to his lieutenant start explaining the situation. slowly, the gears in his mind clicked. Simon kept on rambling about how his mind goes blank, his core temperature keeps rising, the clammy palms, the shaky voice and the sudden shyness not making sense to him. Johnny just laughs, hard. ' holy hell Ghost ya in love?' the question felt like a slap in the face. Simon looked at his sargeant in disbelief, almost offended by the question. Johnny just kept smiling and asked Simon a simple question. ' when do these uh, symptoms make themselves known LT?' So Simon tells him about how he thinks he might be allergic to you, or at least some perfume or body wash you use. Johnny listens and keeps nodding, a smile never leaving his face. ' You know Ghost? This might actually be an allergy. You should talk to her and ask her about it, maybe she has more answers?' Oh Johnny was going to enjoy seeing how this would turn out.