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25 he/it MDNI 18+ page

[vixhound]

this is an 18+ cod sideblog! so likes/follows come from my main

I am fanfic writer for call of duty also on ao3 under VixHound

my tastes tend lean into darkfic and overall smut so I’m liberal with the block button, minors and ageless blogs will be happily blocked, yall ain’t welcome!

dividers: adornedwithlight

Masterlist

[vixhound]

An old friend was somehow shocked I wouldn’t be into any of the genshin impact characters.. girl they’re all either skinny, muscular, or look like a child

??

I like my guys fat and beefy 🙂‍↕️

[valiants]

Some ghostprice for garrick... thank you always 🩶

[vixhound]

Tell me how I just found out my fuckbuddy, of over a year, is 5 years older than I thought he was??😂

I’ve been thru 2 of his birthdays!!

[silvercrane14]

Shout out to characters who want to be used. Shout out to characters who are so desperate to be worth something that they'll endure anything. Shout out to characters who build their entire self worth around being useful, being a tool. Shout out to characters who don't care how they are treated, as long as someone pays them any attention at all

[aftg4rd]

post workout treat 💦

[rawme-price]

No thoughts just gaz accidentally learning about soaps kinks and low-key begging to learn them...

Which is how you end up in soaps bed with gaz tying silk-soft rope around your arms. Soap is off to the side, murmuring instructions to gaz, occasionally his touch flits across your skin when he makes a correction.

"Ah, pull tighter, kyle. It prefers that." He hums, and you feel the rope tighten deliciously along your skin.

"Are we tying it's thighs, too?" Kyle asks sometime later, his warm palms resting on your hips. Soap must say yes, though you don't catch it in your fuzzy mind, because kyle is shuffling to your side and pressing your back to the mattress.

"Yeah, start at it's ankles. Here, look– see how it's leaking already? It's loving this, you're doing good." Soap praises, giving kyle a quick peck on the cheek. The second leg is a bit neater than the first, Kyle's a quick learner. Soap pats Gaz's back with a proud huff "you tied the poor thing, which of it's holes do you want?"

Kyle answers by pushing your legs apart and settling between them, already rubbing his tip against your entrance. Soap chuckles and shuffles to your head, patting your cheek "open up."

It's not the best blowjob you've ever given, but seeing kyle rut into you more than makes up for it. Gaz pulls you where he wants, tugging on your restraints whenever you squirm and whine "it's so energetic– mmhh– I see why you need the ropes–"

That only makes you groan more. Dizzy with the press of rope into your skin, and the way they talk above you like you're not even there. Gaz pulls soap into a warm kiss the same moment he spills into you. You have to whine and wiggle to get them to break apart and finish you off.

....yeah. you're definitely asking Johnny to invite him back soon.

[vixhound]

the fic Milf $ by SanSmexy has really shown how badly I need older omega!ghost

I get it Johnny 🙂‍↕️

[silverlullabies]

Simon “I purposely antagonize the missus so she yells at me” Riley is currently getting reamed a new one in the middle of base, and Gaz- poor unfortunate soul- walks right into the middle of it.

You’ve got Ghost pinned in place with nothing but your voice. No hands on him, no weapons, just fury and sharp words.

Kyle slows. Stares. Immediately regrets having eyes.

And yet he can’t look away.

He drifts over to Soap, who’s posted up nearby like this is a cinema and he paid for premium seating. “Uh,” Gaz says quietly, because volume feels disrespectful in the presence of whatever that is. “What’s all that about?”

Soap doesn’t even glance over. “That’s his missus,” he says, like he’s explaining the weather. “And he must have done some thin’ truly bad this time, ‘cause she’s been going at him for twenty minutes.”

Gaz’s brows shoot up. “Should we… help? Get him out of it?”

Soap makes a noise halfway between a laugh and a snort. “Help? Mate, look at him.”

Gaz looks.

Really looks.

Ghost’s shoulders are relaxed. Not braced. Not defensive. His weight’s pitched forward, like he’s drawn to you by gravity. Half lidded eyes, head tilted, body language screaming more, please while your words get sharper.

Gaz swallows. “He’s… enjoying this?”

Soap’s grin turns positively feral. “Turns him on. Si’s exactly where he wants to be right now.”

Gaz stares at Ghost like the man just sprouted another head.

And Ghost, like he can feel the judgment, flicks his gaze over, catches Gaz watching, and doesn’t even have the decency to look ashamed. If anything, his eyes crinkle like he’s smiling under the mask.

[pluviofleur]

THE BOYS ARE FIIIGGHTTIIIING (playing)

[pricegouge]

Oh to be the lonely mechanic sentenced to live your life out in full on a multigenerational space liner. Just you and android!ghost, all other passengers in cryo. Fixing each other up as the time passes and the tech leaves him behind just as much as the years do you

[pricegouge]

Actually I'm not done here.

cw: transmasc reader, dubcon if you squint, horror elements at the end (not sorry)

unedited. posting and running away

Your deep sleep schedule is sporadic, enough so that you'd given up on maintaining it within the first year. There's nothing you hate more than waking up from cryo, and you've nothing to look forward to on the new planet anyway so who cares if you arrive looking unexpectedly older?

Hired as the engineer meant to maintain a deep space liner as it lumbered through the void for hundreds of years, on its way to some resort planet, you're fairly sure the company would be ecstatic not to pay out your check come arrival anyway. Just so long as the rich passengers made it unscathed, no one need even know if you'd let yourself waste away in the vast empty until long after your remains had been dumped from the airlock by your one debatably sentient companions, the androids that run this hunk of metal. You've no doubt the basic cleaning models wouldn't hesitate, but

Simon, a Ghost Model, and the closest thing you've had to a friend in years, might. Version 14.1, built to last and serve and do so quietly, Simon was the only thing keeping you going, though he was also the reason you felt no moral qualm letting yourself live and die off in the wan, early years of this wasteful voyage, knowing full well he was more than capable of delivering the ship and all it's cargo safely to its destination. You were more of a safety switch than anything, a redundancy put into place should Simon somehow bust a circuit and forget all his programming, or update at the wrong time and get his internal clock so screwed up he forgot to wake the pilot up on time. 

Of course, none of these were a possibility, as you'd seen to all his maintenance yourself and you'd never allow such stupid mistakes. Because at this point he was yours just as much as he was his original designer's, the many upgrades and patches you'd made over the years crafting him into a model of your own design, a shining pinnacle of creation with his burly frame and his clever wit.

"Bloody slag."

He's also the best fuck you've ever had.

"Shit," you hiss, rocking your hips back up to meet him as best you can, though the way his hips press into yours, keeping you pinned against the workstation leaves you very little room for leverage. He takes even that little bit away from you when he notices your movement, deciding for you when you get the satisfaction of his cock.

"Greedy."

Your breath is too whiny when you answer, a pitch you would never allow another human to tear from you. Too vulnerable. "Yeah. Yeah, fuck. Want it." 

Next to your head, the cables of his fine motor control shift beneath the skin of his forearm, pushed to the limit as he bears his considerable weight on the hinges of his knuckles. He'd let you lick the copper wiring there last time you'd had to patch it, had said it felt like when he cuts into meat cubes for your meals. You're pretty sure that was just something he said because he knew you'd like it. You'd told him it felt like battery acid on your tongue, and he'd asked if you would prefer he eject lithium next time he had you mewling on his cock. 

It was weird, how a program you wrote could become funnier than you.

"Simon, please. Need -."

"You'll get it." His voice is a low groan in your ear. Affected, though you don't mind. Just so long as his pace keeps on just. like. that. and his fingers shift from your hip, find your sensitive cock and -.

"Say it."

A huff, the cooling fans below Simon's main cortex doing their best imitation of human breath to show his amusement. He doesn't say it.

"Simon," you warn, fingers grasping tight around the back of his neck to hold him in place. The celia there transmitting the vibration of touch deeper, eliciting goosebumps under your touch. It overcharges his synapses briefly, makes him shudder. You don't know if he actually likes it, but he never seems to complain.

"You say it."

You're too far gone to argue. "Mine, Simon, fuck! You're mine, please -. Say -!"

"I'm yours."

The groan you let out is undignified, worsening when he stills within you, releasing the store of lube you kept him topped off with inside of you. It's thick, viscous and white; leaves you feeling just as flooded as the real thing. Hot, stored between the motors of his hips.. A fine touch you'd adopted from more basic, erotic models. 

Simon helps to rearrange you after, gets you steady on your own two feet before shadowing you throughout the lower decks, your own personal guide as you work your way toward the showers. The lube trick is always hot in the moment, but you have to deal with it pretty quickly after, otherwise you're left feeling tacky for hours.

"Should probably get some actual work done when I get out," you suggest conversationally, the echo of Simon's heavy boots clanging off the hull enough to drive you insane if you let it. "Think the cooling system on C deck is showing some signs of distress."

"We got plenty of work done," Simon grumbles, voice deep enough it gets lost in the reverberations of the metal gangway you walk on. You roll your eyes anyway, fairly certain you know what he's said.

"Yeah, well, usually save that kind of work for after hours," you wink back at him, nearly stumbling over yourself as you watch him absorb your comment, weigh it against his mapped humor.

"Think you can earn time and a half?"

There's no helping the huff of laughter that earns. It's still a little stilted, a little off - but you have a feeling if he keeps learning and you keep never interacting with other humans, your conversational flow should meet in the middle sometime next month. "Yeah, well, proper motivation and all that. Stay here," you tack on as you duck into the shower room. Simon is fully capable of joining you without risking anything vital, but the idea of cleaning his mess in front of him is completely embarrassing, even if it doesn't make much sense.

Just one of those stupid human hold ups you doubt you'll ever get over, no matter how long you spend adrift out here.

The showers are unreasonably nice on this model, perhaps designed to appease the wealthy passengers should the worst come to pass and they all wake up. It's something you never want to think about, the possibility of having to share the stalls with anyone enough to make you weep. Usually, showers are a communal thing in the void, any steam you can get the old pipes cranking enough to work up distributed across a large, tepid room. Any time spent out of the direct spray is spent shivering, and the sprint to your towel felt like a space walk. Here, the stalls are tight and sealed, humidity dense enough to keep you warm. A novelty of its own this close to the hull. Even the metal grating beneath your feet is insulating, warming pleasantly beneath your feet under the steady spray from the showerhead. It's easy to lose track of time, let it slip away from you like the beading on your skin. 

Perhaps that's why you don't notice when the cleaning crew comes knocking. Perhaps that's why your guard dog barks, growls, shows his teeth.

Basic models are not designed to defend themselves like Ghosts are - too cheap, not worth the risk of them fucking up one day and harming a human. Ghosts, like most advanced models, have some degree of self preservation built into them because they're highly advanced pieces of machinery which can be one, highly difficult to replace; or two, borderline lethal in the wrong hands. 

Still, it's hard to disassemble any synthetic. So when you hear Simon telling the other android to come back later, you don't think much of it. And when you hear the first mechanical whirr of a joint being hyperextended, you scurry to break them up but you don't figure it'll be much of an issue. Except then you're in the doorway, hidden behind Simon's strong build, and he's got the camera of a Shadow model dangling from his fist while the smaller synth walks repeatedly into a wall, one of its arms dangling disjointedly at its side.

"What the fuck?" you hiss, and Simon reels on you, throwing the camera over the gangway when he sees you wrapped in nothing more than a standard issue towel.

"It was going to see you," Simon says by way of explanation. The way he says it - steadfast, cold - is the same way he repeats directives. It unsettles something within you, though you can't quite put your finger on what.

"That's fine, Simon, it's a fucking robot."

"It better not be," Simon deadpans, that same cadence of a joke from earlier - whiplash after his mission statement.

"Simon?"

"Say it."

It's like licking his circuitry all over again, the wave that passes over you electric and alien. You know what he wants, but the idea that he could want anything at all, let alone something as messy and complex and human fills you with doubt. "You say it."

"Mine."

[lanialania00]

AU werewolf part 10

@missj609 @ghostswhoretbh @soapsfleshlight

[vixhound]

Having somno oral price/ftm!gaz thoughts where price goes down on gaz till he squirts all over his face

[infectiouspiss]

2026

FUCK HARD

FUCK FAST

FUCK BADLY

NEVER USE GENERATIVE AI

CREATE JOY

MUSIC ALWAYS

PSPSPSPS AT KITTIES ON THE STREET

YUMMY SOUP

go see the doctor about that thing

BE TRANSGENDER

KISS YOUR FRIENDS

EAT CHEESE

NEVER KILL YOURSELF

THRIVE

[volkarlot-cod]

Ghost stumbled across the back pages of Soap's journal.

(This started as anatomy practice, and then...well...)

Version 2.0 without the sticky notes below:

[ceilidho]

I mean I don’t wanna disparage my beloved Ghost but in an apocalyptic situation I do think he’d start eating people sorry

[ceilidho]

ghost will see a random guy 5 days into the apocalypse and go is anyone gonna eat him and not wait for an answer

[daisywords]

"came back wrong" what about Came Back Afraid. You used to be brave. Too brave maybe, defying the odds at every turn, a fighter, cocky, playing with fire, first to throw yourself at the enemy. Until one day it all caught up to you. You came back, somehow, but now you know all too intimately how it feels to lose, to die, to be destroyed. Now you flinch and freeze and cower at the slightest provocation. Who even are you now if you can't be brave? The grave may have let you go, but the mortal fear still grips you tighter than ever.