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yandere-kokeshi · 5 months

Note

Hey can i request platonic yandere 141 x reader who is touch starved but also uncomfortable being touched? They struggle because on one hand they want to snuggle into their big buff bodies but in the other hand because they hardly had any loving physical contactas a child, they just don't it strange?

— Yandere Platonic TF-141 x gn darling who's touchstarved but doesn't know how to ask and feels weird

Warnings: yandere behavior, and slight forced affection.

A/N: this is kinda bad, not happy with it. But I still hope you can enjoy, anon <3

It’s quite a funny thing, because all of them are touch-starved too.

While all of them — including Johnny — will try to respect your space and let you come to them naturally, sometimes they (Price and Soap) go overboard and bombard you with affection that may lead to you being overwhelmed.

Price, being a devious dog, often bodyguards you, especially in public; wherever you are, he’s standing right behind you, cracking up the air with bad-dad jokes or smoking his favorite cigar. Slowly but surely, John starts to roll his hand around your lower back; watching your reactions to ensure he’s not pushing. But, as soon as he sees you okay with it, he slides his hand up and around your shoulder, before pushing you against him. He sees you coil up, but within a few seconds, you relax and straighten up your shoulders; something that makes him smirk.

Soap is the definition of overbearing — he’s naturally touchy, patting you on the shoulder after a long time apart, tight hugs that end up with you begging for a break, and a tight hold on your hand everywhere. Let’s not forget about Johnny’s deep kisses on your temple. Whilst he knows you prefer not to be bombarded with touches, he can’t help himself– you’re jus’ so darn cute.

Sooner or later, you become comfortable with it. Even while you’re still flinching at his touch, you crave it like sweets. And it’s something he’s willing to push onto you, showing that as you need his touch.

Ghost and Gaz are quite calmer, not touching you unless you come to them; awaiting you to open up to them — but still demanding in their own way of affection.

Kyle often uses the excuse of ‘accidentally’ touching you, seeing where you are comfortable and how you react. He glides his hand over yours, watching if you either remove it, or simply let it stay. If you stay? He places his warm hand on top of yours, sooner interlocking his fingers between yours; and if you remove it? He lets it go, trying it again without making it too obvious. Of course, he apologizes, and you both laugh at it– but he

Simon rarely touches you. The kind where he flinches himself if you two accidentally touch, simply sitting by each other. It’s to the point where it’s almost uncomfortable, and forces you to get out of your comfort zone; asking if you can hold his hand, or hold pinkies, which he’ll gladly do.

Everyone quickly learns your body language, and it’s easy to read you by a few weeks — seeing when you want attention, need to be alone, what kind of touch you need, etc.

—

Masterlist || Reblogs, comments, and likes are very much appreciated!! Stay well!!

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unhappy-last-resort · 7 days

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Delusions (Yandere Simon x GN Reader)

Warnings: smut, worship of the readers body and reader in general, creampie, GN reader, short

A/N: Just a drabble because I was thinking of Simon as one does late night. I'm also waiting for server reset in PGR so I can decide if I wanna pull on the light trails banner or not.

Apologies for any grammar/spelling issues and what not, it's almost 2AM for me

Your soft pants filled his bedroom, your chest rising and falling with each breath, his arms holding your hips flush to his.

Nothing could compare to this moment. You were absolutely divine, a gift from the gods, a blessing to humanity bestowed by the stars, and you, despite being so far beyond him that he could only watch your star trail in awe, you chose him. You chose him over the numerous, beautiful and heroic constructs and humans who stood by your side.

It made him shudder, his eyes almost rolling at the thought. How could anyone not desire you? Who wouldn't lust after such an incredible hero? Just look at yourself. The way you move your body underneath him, the stretch marks along your thighs, your swollen lips parted in ecstasy, your glossy eyes, your mesmerizing voice as you moan so sweetly for him.

He couldn't help but kiss every inch of you he could, studying you like a piece of art. He kissed each scar he could see, admiring them. Perhaps others might find your scars to be blemishes that needed to be hidden, or fixed, but to him they were breathtaking. Not necessarily because he thought the scars were beautiful, but because they gave him insights into you and your story. You don't talk much about your past, not that there was reason to, but still, he longed to know you more intimately than you knew yourself. If only you'd open yourself to him, if only he could climb to your stardom and share the burden with you.

Perhaps if he lulled you to orgasm enough times you would be relaxed enough to let him know you more. He kissed your neck and whispered his admiration of you into your skin as he gently fucked you, holding you closely to him, becoming so engrossed your moans and cries that he nearly forgets his own pleasure.

He could stay like this forever, listening to you whisper his name as you grind against him. He holds your face gently, drinking in your expressions. Each cry you make resonating in his heart and rippling through his mind, overshadowing every other thought and sensation until only you existed.

He would never stop chasing after you, never stop longing for your attention and recognition, he would never stop desiring a level of intimacy that would only belong to you two. He needed your acknowledgement of his efforts and devotion, he needed to hear you say you loved him just as much as he loved you, maybe even more. He needed you to love him back, he needed your attention, he needed you to look at him as something more than a friend. His desires driving him to push in and out of you faster and faster until you writhed and trembled, until his hips stuttered and the tight cord drawn in his stomach snapped as he babbled your name like it was his salvation.

As his hips slow down, you wrap your arms around him and bestow him a kiss filled with so much love he feels himself melt into your body like it was made to hold him.

"Simon..." You whisper breathlessly and his breath is caught in his throat. Your hand cups his cheek and leans into it, kissing down along your wrist reverently.

You watch him lovingly, letting him worship you. Your eyes meet and his heart soars, you look so bewitching like this the sight burns itself into his brain. Slowly, your lips part and he desperately waits for what you're about to say, hoping that you'll tell him those three words he longs to hear. He watches every slight movement you make, enraptured as he watches you swallow, debating whether you should say what's on your mind or not and he gives your hand a slight squeeze of encouragement.

That seems to give you the push you need as you focus on him again and his heart pounds in his chest as he leans in closer to you, needing to hear every word you're about to say.

"Simon, I-"

He wakes up, his hair sticking to his skin and the sheets unbearably hot. Simon stares at the ceiling, seeing nothing but blurry shapes as he contemplates what just happened. Humiliation crushes his chest as the stickiness in his hand makes him realize that it was just an intense fantasy and nothing more. He feels like a teenager helplessly pining after a crush and it almost makes him cry.

It was foolish for him to ever think that you could be his, that you'd ever spare him more than a cursory glance and a few words. You may have never said it out loud, but he knows he's beneath you. Someone your caliber would never look his way, but he can't help but keep chasing after that hope, after that dream that one day, one day you might look at him with something more than friendly comradery.

...He should stop entertaining such ridiculous and inappropriate thoughts about you and wash his hands, probably change his sheets too. If you saw him like this, you would be appalled. Shocked that a fellow soldier could be so...so unprofessional. He's already embarrassed himself a few times in front of you, he needs to be better. He needs to improve.

You'll never give him the attention he desires, so he must do what he can to earn it and treat what little you give him with the utmost care and respect.

He needs you, he needs your love and acknowledgement and he'll do whatever it takes to get it. Even if that means sacrificing everything he has.

#unhappy drabbles #unhappy writings #yandere simon #yandere simon pgr #yandere pgr x reader #yandere x gn reader #yandere x darling #yandere smut #pgr #punishing gray raven #yandere #yandere male x reader #male yandere #yandere pgr #yandere punishing gray raven #yandere fic #yandere drabble

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theyanderespecialist · 4 months

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youtube

8th Day Of Christmas (His Princess) Yandere Ice King/Simon X Listener (A...

#youtube #yandere #yandere ice king #yandere simon #yandere adventure time #ice king #ice king adventure time #simon #simon adventure time #ice king x listener #listener

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gremlingottoosilly · 3 months

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Been thinking about this, bunny!reader with Ghost and Konig at the same time somehow, that poor woman ain't gonna survive

Oh!! She is going to die!! Being a bunny with Ghost or Konig is bad enough - these are predators with zero regard to your comfort. They might like you, even love you, but it just means they would be just barely careful enough to not kill you...they wouldn't care about silly things like making you comfortable! You're literally just a chewing toy to them, and it's the hottest and the most dangerous experience of your life. Ghost is taking you from the back, his dick is only slightly smaller than Konig's - and his shadowy tentacles are groping your asscheeks and making you spread wider, whining as he is forcing his cock in your underprepared ass. You might be extremely aroused from the slime that constantly leaks from Konig, but you still can't relax properly - can only cry and wiggle, as Simon covers you in bite marks. He only partially takes off his mask, not wanting for his competitor to see his face fully..but it's enough to kiss you, to bruise your lips and force some of his shadow tentacles inside of your mouth, pass Konig's tendrils. Konig is taking your pussy, his need to breed is to strong to resist. It's a good thing you're just a pretty dumb bunny - you're constantly in heat, constantly wigging your fluffy cotton tail and pressing your ears closer to your head, wanting for the big, strong predators to mark you. You are terrified of them, but Konig is filling your tummy with his eggs and your desire to breed is satisfied...he is leaving bruises on your plump hips and forces his tentacles even deeper, making sure that not an inch of your body is not covered in his fluids. He growls in your ear and you tremble - with them, it's only a matter of time when they snap, when they'd decide that you need to be punished properly. They would take care of you after, cleaning your poor, abused holes and laughing as they twitch around nothing, your hips buckle into their fingers as they clean you up. Poor, dumb bunny - they are shackling you to the nest, making sure you wouldn't escape even when they are filling you with their combined tentacles, never leaving your holes alone for long enough...

#cod #konig x reader #konig #yandere konig #monster!konig #yandere cod #simon ghost riley #ghost x reader #yandere ghost #dark ghost #ghost #monster!ghost

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obsessivelullabies · 3 months

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— being mafia!tf141's assistant.

warnings : possessive, yandere behavior. fem reader.

a/n : i've never written mafia before? i hope this makes sense?? i plan to write four different parts for each of them individually!

— in all honesty, your relations with the mafia were completely accidental. you were a naive young woman in search of work. being some rich guy's assistant sounded easy enough. you did find it a little funny how there was no traditional interview process, just a bunch of slightly sketchy paperwork sent your way. luckily for you, you got the job!

— you were told an address, so you showed up. it turned out to be a massive house, which was even more shady. as you stood outside the door, a little too frightened to knock, you realized how sketchy it all was.

as you were lost in thought, the door swung open, revealing a muscular, shirtless man. he was only adorned in a pair of black boxers, he looked slightly peeved.

"who the fuck are you?" he acknowledged you after eyeing you up and down.

your eyes gazed on his firm chest due to how he nearly towered over you with his height. "i'm the new assistant.." you practically squeaked back at him.

the man grinned suddenly, his demeanor changing. "come in," he stepped aside, allowing you inside their home.

— the place was slightly cluttered as he showed you around, he introduced himself as soap. you assumed, or rather, hoped, it was a nickname. soap was immediately very touchy feely with you, slinging his arm around your waist or shoulder, running his large hand down the small of your back, stopping at your hips.

— soap showed you what your jobs were, things such as cleaning, cooking and basically whatever one of the men needed at the moment. he told you about the three other men, gaz, ghost and price. from what you gathered; they ran some kind of business. every mention of it was vague, yet you picked up that price was the 'boss' of sorts.

— after a lot of chatter, soap left your side and allowed you to work. the next man you met was just coming home, he was dressed fancily, seeming to be in a rush. he was quiet and polite, taking the time to introduce himself. gaz. soap hadn't said much about him.

— gaz was a sweetheart to you, asking you questions about yourself, apologizing for the slight mess in their home. you were excited to work for the two; both seemed pleasant to be around.

— the first two weeks of your job went by smoothly, soap and gaz would often lounge in whatever room you were in, chatting mindlessly to you. you would even say you bonded with the two.

— soap adored how good of an assistant you were. he loved eating your cooking, how you always made sure he liked your efforts. you were so obedient. so perfect for him.

— gaz had grown attached to your pretty little voice. you were so polite. he found it so cute how naive you were, how you never questioned what he did for work. he had a petname for you, ‘gorgeous’. with how much he called you it, you wondered if he even knew your real name.

— when price and ghost returned from their ‘business’, they were both relived to finally have some help. they showed it in different ways.

— at the start, ghost basically ignored you. his skull mask frightened you anyway. he only spoke to you to give you commands, yet over time, your charm grew on him. still, he wasn’t very talkative. he’d request your silent company. something to make him feel less alone.

— price, the boss, was very dominating. he appreciated your hard work, which soap and gaz had told him about. price thought you were adorable as a small animal. something to be protected and pet. every morning when you first got to work, you would make his tea for him. these slowly became his favorite moments.

— the longer you worked for them, the more mysterious they all became. they were vague whenever you hinted at your curiosity. you decided not to pry.

— you were unaware how possessive they’d all became. how they vied for you and yours affections. when price practically demanded you work longer hours, you just assumed you were a super good assistant.

— the four men became obsessive over you after only a few months. your life had gotten.. complicated ever since. especially when you learned what they really did.

masterlist.

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gladiolusluvr · 5 months

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Me when I’m reading a good fanfic and the author writes “my knuckles turned white as I clenched the sheets"

After I read that I can not bring myself to read it anymore 😭

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sweet-as-an-angel · 1 year

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Call of Duty: Modern Warfare 2 Masterlist

Ghost: Wanted: Ghost x König x Reader [HEAVY SMUT] Oral Support - Ghost x Reader

Ghost w/ a Petite S/O

Ghost w/ an Innocent S/O

The Type of Yandere Ghost is

Yandere Simon "Ghost" Riley Headcanons

Simon "Ghost" Riley w/ a Pregnant S/O

Simon "Ghost" Riley NSFW Alphabet

Ghost of Christmas Past [Ghost x Reader]

Simon “Ghost” Riley Headcanons

Ghost x Plus Size Reader Headcanons

Platonic Yandere Ghost x Childhood Best Friend Reader

Ghost w/ an S/O who Wears Glasses

Platonic Yandere Ghost x Reader Headcanons

Ghost w/ an S/O who is Self Conscious about Squirting a Lot

Dominant! Ghost Headcanons

Dominant! Ghost Headcanons [Repost]

Thigh Riding w/ Ghost

Ghost, König and You

Seraphim [Ghost x Reader]

The One where Soap finds Himself in an ✨ Awkward ✨Situation. [ Ghost x Reader ]

Ghost's Reaction to his S/O Stealing his Mask

A Family of His Own [Ghost x F! Reader]

Simon "Ghost" Riley w/ his S/O During a Panic Attack

Vampire Simon "Ghost" Riley Headcanons

Ghost & König’s Reaction to You in a Maid Outfit

Ghost & König’s Reaction to You Being a Cat Girl

Ghost & König’s Reaction to You Being a Cat Boy

Two Ghosts One Stone [Ghost x Reader x Ghost]

Simon "Ghost" Riley w/ a Tall S/O

Zombie! Ghost NSFW Headcanons

König:

Wanted: Ghost x König x Reader [HEAVY SMUT]

König Headcanons

Yandere König Headcanons + Ending

König x Plus Size Reader Headcanons

Dominant König Headcanons

König w/ his S/O during a Panic Attack

König w/ an S/O who Wears Glasses

König w/ a Mommy Kink

König w/ a Daddy Kink

König w/ a Petite S/O

Extra: König w/ a Petite S/O

Submissive König Headcanons

König w/ a Pregnant S/O

Breeding König

Thigh Riding w/ König

König w/ an S/O who is Self Conscious about Squirting a Lot

König w/ a Bratty S/O

Sylvannian Family [König x Reader Headcanons]

Ghost, König and You

Chokehold [König x Reader]

König w/ an Innocent S/O

König's Reaction to His S/O Stealing his Mask

König's Reaction to You Having a Stomach Bulge

Ghost & König’s Reaction to You in a Maid Outfit

Ghost & König’s Reaction to You Being a Cat Girl

Ghost & König’s Reaction to You Being a Cat Boy

Wild West Outlaw König

Vampire König Headcanons

Zombie! König NSFW Headcanons

Alejandro:

Yandere Alejandro Headcanons

Price:

Yandere Captain Price Headcanons

Graves

Yandere Phillip Graves Headcanons

All:

MW2 waking up next to their S/O

MW2 w/ an S/O who is Insecure about their Stretch Marks

MW2 and their P0rn Preferences

MW2 Cuddling Headcanons

MW2 Reaction to You Calling Them Submissive and Breedable

MW2 Reaction to Receiving a Special™ Photo from Their S/O

MW2 Reaction to Receiving a Love Poem from Their S/O

MW2 Reaction to You Having an Only Fans

MW2 Reaction to Their S/O Who Self-Harms

MW2 Reaction to You Asking Them to be Gentle

MW2 Reaction to You Being A Virgin

MW2 Reaction to You Panty-Flashing Them

Zombie! MW2 W/ a Human Sex Slave

Masterpost Subscribe to My AO3 account for more content like this ! Follow me on Wattpad, if you'd like ! Juicy Original Content Yandere Masterpost

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ozzgin · 6 months

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Completely outside my usual fandoms, but I’ve been tempted to scribble out some ideas for the longest time.

Edit: Alright, alright. I’ve officially added CoD to my fandom list. Part 2 is out!

Yandere! CoD Headcanons: König x Reader x Ghost

Featuring two men, one mission, and a female reader that caught their interest more than they’d like to admit. TW: Obsessive behavior, violence, dubious consent, mildly NSFW

[Part II]

It really shouldn’t be that fucking difficult. You go, you complete the mission, you return. Repeat. That’s what they’ve been doing for years. So much, in fact, that most of it is really just a sequence of mechanical actions, done so often they’ve become part of the subconscious. Crushing the throat under an armlock, stalking the target, mounting the suppressor before a sneak shot. Like driving a car, it becomes a learned routine.

Naturally there are elements of novelty to each mission. New teammates, new places, new requirements. It’s all part of the job. People come and go, comrades stay in your heart. What happens, however, when that latter part isn’t enough? Both Ghost and König have become accustomed to the classic rule: don’t get attached. Yet this time, for whatever reason, the nagging anxiety in the back of their heads just won’t go away. A pitiful need is clawing the walls of their pride, like a stray dog whimpering after the first sign of shelter. People come and go, but (Y/N) stays. Somehow this statement has materialized in their hearts and no other truth can be accepted.

They cannot pinpoint the exact moment this insidious feeling has nestled its way in. It started rather innocently. The first brief greetings were done on the loud, bumpy ride towards the temporary base. ‘Greetings’ is a generous word for it. Ghost had nodded at you in acknowledgement, and König merely glanced at you before staring into the distance.

You scarcely interacted with each other on the field, although that’s probably where their respect for you had gradually built up. You’re swift and efficient, nearly competing in ruthlessness. For König, the most memorable affair was you quietly twisting the neck of an enemy he failed to detect in time. His eyes widened upon seeing the barrel pointed at him, but just as speedily your form emerged from the shadows and you lunged at the assailant. Once the deed had been done, you merely lifted your hand in a thumbs up gesture and you went on. He remained there for a good minute, staring at the massive man you took down without hesitation. Similarly, Lt. Riley felt the cold beads of sweat forming on his forehead as his teammate shouted into the radio, demanding reinforcements. He wouldn’t make it in time and the anticipating guilt begun knotting in his stomach. He was searching for a solution when a prolonged round of bullets jolted him back to the radio. Moments of static silence, before you spoke in your headset: “Targets down. Out.” And just like that, you had vanished.

The realization hadn’t truly hit until they encountered you out of battle. They were going over the map when a small, dainty hand pointed to a random location. For a second they were startled, wondering if a civilian somehow entered their base. They hadn’t even registered your presence. Standing next to König’s enormous frame, you almost faded into the background as one of the furniture pieces. You were still in uniform, sure, but the heavy combat accessories and the dust of the bloodied fields seemed to have added more inches to your posture, at least in their imagination. You glared incredulously and inquired if it’s dementia or misogyny stopping them from recognizing (Y/N) (L/N). Ghost cleared his throat and curtly apologized for his reaction and König mumbled a continuation to it, suddenly and unexplainably awkward.

Such a faux pas would normally be swept under the rug. Had tactfulness and diplomacy been their key strengths, they wouldn’t be out here shooting people. But whatever embarrassment struck them on that particular day continued to linger, tugging their focus in a restless reminiscence. Until it finally occurred to them it wasn’t embarrassment persistently occupying their minds. Rather, and it should’ve been obvious, they have since become helplessly infatuated with you. The elephant in the room had gotten a name. But this particular elephant came with thick tendrils of obsession, spreading out relentlessly and asphyxiating any attempts to subdue it.

It really shouldn’t be that fucking difficult. Except it is. It’s hard for Ghost to look you in the eyes and give you the orders without clenching his fists and desperately trying to bury the avalanching thoughts of pushing you against that very wall, railing you until you forget his name. König can barely peek in your direction without being plagued by indecent images of your flushed, drooling face as he slams into your frail body.

Even worse is when the men become aware of each other’s intentions. Ghost had meant to check up on you after the latest expedition, but he stopped dead in his tracks at the sight of König inspecting your wounds, his large hand resting innocently on your thigh as he squatted before you. You were in too much discomfort to notice, but it was clear to him. This bastard had a death wish. Days later it was König’s turn to taste the bitter betrayal when he heard your vibrant laugh approaching. You were thanking your companion for the entertaining workout and Ghost took advantage of your relaxed, distracted mood to place a hand against your arched back. That’s when he looked over with a predatory, malicious glint in his eye, as if marking his territory. You smiled, blissfully unaware of the suffocating tension within the room.

It’s no longer a matter of you accepting them or not. It’s who gets his hands on you first. You really must try to see it from their perspective, (Y/N). Put aside their love for you for a moment, and think about it. They’re only doing what’s best for you. Someone like you will never be satisfied with just any other man out there. You need a fitting partner, one that can protect you with imperishable, incessant loyalty. That’s truly the logical conclusion to it: there’s no one else for you. Just like nobody will ever compare to you in their eyes. And lamentably, you can’t afford to doubt their argument. The clock is ticking, and before they know it, the mission will be over and you’ll all be shipped to the next task. They can’t have that. They must act now.

“Isn’t it kind of early?” You ask, stretching up to check the ammunition shelves. Ghost asked you to help him gather some supplies from one of the storage closets, yet no one else is currently preoccupied with it. The hallways are empty and the only sound is your own shuffle between the cramped walls, emphasized especially by the tall man next to you. “I like to plan ahead” is all he answers. He bites his lower lip underneath the mask, contemplating his next step. How the fuck do you casually tell someone they’ve been your wet dream for months and you’d like to make it official, with or without their input? He should probably leave out the first part. Yeah. You don’t need the details of his nightly activities. Nonetheless, he has to make it clear who you belong to now. Afterwards he’ll deal with the pest that’s been wagging his tail around you.

“Oh, fuck this.” He eventually huffs out, exasperated. You jump slightly at the sudden outburst and turn to him, confused. He approaches you until your back hits the shelves, at which point he slams a hand above your head and effectively traps you between his sinewy arms. Perfect fucking spot. No, he shouldn’t get sidetracked. Plenty of time for that later. “What the hell?” Is the only thing that comes out of your mouth. His eyes are hollow, yet determined. A cold shiver runs down your spine and your eyes dart around the room, looking for an escape. At this distance you wouldn’t be able to tackle him down. He’s too big. Goddamnit. You grip his forearm, hoping to find some switch that pulls him out of this bizarre behavior. Ghost opens his mouth to speak, but the words dissolve into the explosive noise of the door ripping from its hinges. You yell at the sudden commotion.

König walks in, bending under the small doorframe. He seems to have just returned from the battlegrounds, vest splattered with fresh blood and sleeves scratched and torn. Despite the usual cloth draped over the head, you can discern a feral expression plastered on his face. “Du Landschlampe.” He growls and extends a hand towards Ghost. He clicks his tongue, annoyed, and is forced to release his hold on you to block the incoming blow. This is your chance. You nod at the Austrian man, grateful for his help, and proceed to sprint for the exit. Contrary to your expectations, he swiftly blocks your path and you slam into his body as the air is abruptly expelled from your lungs. You fall to the ground from the powerful momentum.

“You’re not leaving until we settle this”, König states in a low voice. Ghost reaches for one of his pockets and pulls out his hunting knife with a parading twirl. “That, I agree with. Let me show you exactly what happens to the fucker that messes with my woman.” König lets out a chuckle. “I was going to say the same thing.” You can only stare in terror.

What on Earth is going on?

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tarottsi · 7 months

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Zombie! Ghost who doesn’t have control over his emotions anymore. When he’s angry, he’s livid. When he’s upset, he sulks. There is no middle ground, merely all or nothing.

Zombie! Ghost who can’t control himself for the things he want. And he wants you, insanely. He’s like lost doberman— fierce and large— as he follows you wherever you go. He doesn’t know what personal space is. He sees you as an extension of himself.

Zombie! Ghost with his clammy hands over any part of your body, pressing against you, needing to become one. It doesn’t bother you much, but you can’t have any work done when he always want your hands on him too. Whatever they injected on him, he isn’t rotting so at least he doesn’t have that reeking smell.

Zombie! Ghost who hovers over you from afar when you were tired from his incessant touching. He’s brooding in the corner, jaw loose and arms crossed while you do your paperwork regarding his status. It was going well, if only a male sergeant hadn’t come in to see you. Poor guy just wanted to give you refreshments but Ghost ran at top speed to scare the intruder away.

Zombie! Ghost now doesn’t want to leave you alone because you showed him you can’t take care of yourself. You clearly need him to growl at any approaching man or woman because you can’t stand your ground.

Zombie! Ghost who loves it when it’s maintenance time since your hands are on him when it’s time to fix up. He leans into your touch. His chest lets out a small hum as you did your work. He doesn’t feel pain anymore. And if more injuries meant your hands are on him more, he doesn’t mind the deadly mission.

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #yandere! simon riley #yandere! Ghost #Zombie! Ghost x reader #Zombie! Ghost x you #tarot thoughts 💭

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a-b-riddle · 23 hours

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Hear me out, but obsessed Simon Riley x reader.

When you’re accused of being a traitor, Simon doesn’t hesitate in getting to work.

Even though you handed over all of your passwords, given them access to anything and everything they him immediately, it did nothing to help. You were going to be crucified.

Price and Laswell had already made the call. A call Simon couldn’t stand by and let happen.

It’s not that Simon believed you when you tried to prove you weren’t the leak.

He simply didn’t care if you were.

He didn't care if you had betrayed them. He didn't care if your innocent nature had truly been an act all along.

It was instinct to get you out of there. Not even for your own safety, but to insure Simon that no one could take you from him. If you remained a free agent, it was only a matter of time before they brought you in. After that, it was out of his hands. You were theres to hurt, to kill and he could do nothing to stop it. So what better way to insure that they can't take you other than taking you for himself?

He simply can’t have someone hurting his bird. So he sets the plan in motion.

Price intends on waiting for the order before executing the extraction plan. They wanted answers. How much did you tell Makarov? What did he know?

Simon was a step ahead. It was easy enough hiding in your garage, waiting for you to come home. The darkness of the night had aided him. You were blindly walking to the door connecting to your kitchen before you felt it. The gloved hand around your mouth and the sharp pinch in your neck.

When you wake up chained to a bed in a dark room, you knew you were as good as dead. They had taken you. This was it and you couldn't plead your case anymore than you already had. All your efforts in trying to prove your innocence were futile.

When Simon stepped in, still in his tactical gear your heart sank. He still had on his mask. Fully equipped. The knives on his side gleaming menacingly as the one light in your cell shined down on him. You swore that you would never betray him, the 141 or Laswell.

“Simon,” you begged already scurrying farther back toward the headboard, trying to create more distance. “I didn’t do it. I swear.” He didn’t stop his slow steps. Even as you began to cry. Even as you curled your body into a tight ball.

You sobbed as you pleaded for mercy, begging for your life. Your shaking violently as you felt him get on the bed. The frame creaking under his weight. You closed your eyes, turning your head away as you readied your self for the final blow to come. Wordlessly began unlocking the metal cuffs.

"Shhh," he soothed. "None of that now." He took your wrists in his hand before softly running his thumbs where the metal cuffs had left an imprint. “Couldn’t have you running off.” He explained, his tone... gentle. Speaking to you as if you were child. "That sedative can give you a pretty rough wake up call. Didn't need you hurtin' yourself. Needed to have a chat first.” He went on to explain you were in his home. Where he wouldn’t disclose. Only that you were safe.

You were safe.

You weren't going to be tortured.

You weren't going to be killed for something you didn't do. Your eyes filled with tears as you realized he was on your side. “You believe me.” You said, the tears resuming for a completely didn't reason. Relief flooded you and you had to stop yourself from wrapping your arms around him.

“No,” his correction made your heart drop into your stomach.

"But..." You press your back hard against the wooden headboard. There's no where else to go. Nowhere else to run. "You said I was safe." He sighed. Tears flowed down your cheeks as he put his hand gently where your neck and jaw me.

"You are safe." But, if he didn’t believe you... why were you here? “I don’t care if you did it. I’m not gonna hurt you.” He reassured, his thumb gently stroking your cheek. Then he spoke so softly, you could have sworn he was talking more to himself than he was you. “Not going to let anything hurt you.”

It took you a moment to process it.

Simon had taken you... You were in his home and no one knew you were here. You didn't even know where exactly you were.

And Simon was touching you.

He was touching you. After years of working together, Simon was caressing your cheek. Showing such softness that it actually scared you. He took note of how he could feel your heart rate even through his glove.

"Why?"

“I’m protecting you.” He said, growing irritated that you weren't getting it. “Do you have any idea what they would have done to you?" He asked rhetorically, waiting rather patiently for you to be thanking him for saving you.

"Do..." Your head began to spin, trying to pull your mind away from all the possibilities on what could have happened. "Do I have to stay here?" You asked.

Simon was a patient man, but you beginning to test that patience. He let out a huff before pulling his hand away and placing it on your bare knee.

"Just until it all gets sorted." He lied, giving you a squeeze that he could only hope was reassuring. Even after they found the leak, you wouldn't be leaving him.

"Oh." You swallowed, nodding in understanding. "Okay." You let out a staggered breath trying to calm down. You were going to have to stay in this confined space, already feeling the claustrophobia creeping in as you felt the dark cement walls move in closer and closer. "Is there a bathroom I can use in here?" You asked, praying he wouldn't leave you with a bucket and a roll of toilet paper.

Simon laughed. He actually barked out a laugh, making you jump. "I meant you'll have to stay here with me." He clarified. "Not in the basement."

"Oh," the tenseness in your body seemed to ease up. "Good. It just feels..." you didn't finish. Too afraid to insult the man who quite literally held your life in his hands.

"No worries." he assured, finally taking his hand off of you to stand up. He held his palm out waiting for you to take his hand.

Without thinking twice, you did. Letting him help you stand even though your legs felt like they would give out at any minute. At the slight wobble of your knees, Simon took the liberty of scooping you up. A gasp escaping you.

Instinctively, you wrapped your arms around his neck. Afraid that even though you had seen the man basically serve as a human battering-ram, you were afraid he would somehow drop you.

Simon's fingers ached to feel the softness of your thighs. He wanted to badly to come downstairs without his gear on. Bare himself to you. Reveal the face of the man behind the mask. Scars and all. He was worried that would have made it worse. Waking up in a basement, handcuffed to a bed with an unknown man aching to touch you.

He would show you his face soon enough. You would grow to love it. Each scar and imperfection on his face. His crooked nose and the touch of his calloused hands.

He planned to have you begging for it. To pepper kisses along his cheeks. Beg for his touch on your skin. Begging him to bury his fingers, his cock inside you. You would ache for him just as he had ached for you all this time.

You would fall as deeply as he had.

You would come to love your life with Simon.

No matter how long it took you to accept it.

#kidnapping #simon ghost riley #call of duty #obsessive love #yandere #touch her and die #no literally #don't fuck with reader

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diejager · 8 months

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psst! hi! are you willing to do a scenario where (civilian or soldier (your pick)) reader tries to run away and hide from yan!Ghost/konig

Failed Escape

Pairing: Yan!König x reader & Yan!Ghost x reader

Cw: smut, DUB-CON/NON-CON, spanking, fingering, kidnapping, training/mind break??, isolation, tell me if I missed any. Cw: 0.9k

König

Yan!König was meticulous in the location of your home, it was well-thought out and planned months prior to your taking. It’s a secluded cottage in the Austrian alps, between two imposingly beautiful mountains covered in green flora and cute wildflowers. A few fawns and deers would skip around your grounds, grazing on the fires and hydrated grass of your garden. It’s miles away from civilization, unpaved roads marking the way to the closest highway and other cottages within a mile or two.

Yan!König who doesn’t bother to install extreme measures to your home because you’re housebroken, trained into loving you house and fearing to run. It doesn’t matter if you’re a normal civilian or a trained specialist, his sheer size made it impossible to run or defend against. But if you did try to run, ignoring all the blaring, red flags that bellowed in your mind about stepping outside the white-fenced walls, you’d wish you could outrun him.

Yan!König’s ruthless in his punishment. If he caught you before you crossed the fence, he’d be more lenient with you. He would strip you down to your panties and lay you on his lap, hand striking your ass. He’d coo when you cried, his warm thumb rubbing soothing circles over your red cheeks, fingers dipping into your leaky cunt, his large digits hitting your spongy wall while you squirmed, his elbow digging into your back to hold you down.

“Look at how wet you are, Maus, you like this don’t you? You like being spanked, ja?”

If he caught you outside, your short legs failing to outrun him, König would be meaner, cruel even with his punishment. He has you tied and blindfolded in the cold and humid basement, bringing his gloved hand down on your naked slit. His slaps left your cunt slick and swollen, and you a crying and overwhelmed while he bullied his hard cock into you, fucking the anger and frustrations away.

“It hurts, Maus? This is your punishment, take it!”

Yan!König will have to spend additional time training you, utilising the wide arrange of tools in his well-equipped basement to help him train you. From different types of whips to metal and padded hand-cuffs, and from various sizes of dildos that fit the pre-programmed machine to a manual of torturous knots and binds to hold a person. König has all and everything to ensure that you’d be reeducated in ways of living and manners.

Yan!König doesn’t do this because he enjoyed it - perhaps a lie with the sadistic glint in his eyes - he does it because he needed you to understand how much he cared about you, how much your life with him was a blessing and how much you could be happy with him. If only your training stuck.

Ghost

Yan!Ghost wouldn’t let you catch a glance of the world outside the four walls of your prison. He has locks drilled into the front and back door, some could be unlocked by a key and others by numbered and lettered combinations. He had every wind bolted shut with the occasional sliding windows for fresh air if you needed it, but they were all too small to squeeze through and too high for you to reach with anything but on the tips of your toes.

Yan!Ghost didn’t buy a house in some remote area of the British Isle, he found a rustic house in a calm and safe neighbourhood in Manchester, a pretty two-story home with a basement and newly-painted white fences around the house. Most neighbours were quiet and kept to themselves, it was another thing he made sure of before turning this place into a safehouse for both of you. He kept the house’s layout, but reworked the basement, building a third bedroom with a small kitchenette, a hotel-like living room and an even smaller bathroom fitting a single person at a time.

Yan!Ghost who stopped you before you can reach the door, his bone-breaking hold on your wrist, wrenching you away from the hallway before throwing you onto the couch. He was fuming, face red with rage and narrowed eyes, his tall, imposing figure seemingly bigger and damning as he loomed over you with clenched fists. He might’ve been cruel and demeaning, possessive in an erratic and sporadic way, but he’d never lift a hand against you. Simon wouldn’t stoop as low as his father did to control his life. Granted, he used degradation and intimidation, but never physical violence.

“What ‘ave I told you, love?”

Yan!Ghost would force you back into the basement, imposing all the rules and regulations he had when he first took you, his words became the law and his hands the chains. He might let you have a few freedoms in your prison, but he would always be watching, either from the numerous cameras he installed in in the basement and around the house to keep and eye on you at all times, or from his seat beside you, an arm around your waist and his face buried under your head.

Yan!Ghost suffered just as much as you were in these moments, having to subjugate both of you to this torture he played in the early days. Listening to you cry and bemoan your life before meeting him made his heart chip away while he shushed your pains, cradling you as he carded his fingers through your locks. Watching you flinch and stuttered when he approached you, his trembling hands inches from your shaking figure, red-rimmed eyes and puffy cheeks staring back at him while he tried coaxing you back into his hands to sooth your cries. It hurts how much you tried to escape his love and care, he was the perfect lover: gentle and patient.

“Why can’t you love me? Aren’t I enough?”

Taglist: @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @tallmanlover @distracteddragoness @vxnilla-hxrddrugs

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yandere-kokeshi · 5 months

Note

thank you for wishing me well regarding my chronic pain. may i request a könig or ghost headcanon or drabble of a gender neutral y/n with a shoulder pain kind of chronic pain? like, being unable to carry anything heavy, limited movements, and needing help with simple tasks as they heal? thank you in advance!

— Yandere Ghost and König with gn darling who has shoulder pain from chronic illness

Warnings: yandere behavior, and talks about chronic illness.

A/N: I did both and headcanons! Hope that doesn’t make you upset. Enjoy <3!

Simon “Ghost” Riley:

He takes your health very seriously– always reminding you to never overwork yourself, even if you feel obligated to finish a chore/or assignment that you know will leave you sore. And if you require help, you ask him, and he’ll do it.

To an extent, he understands your pain. But he knows he’s not you, and you aren’t him; plus, pain is much more than a 1-to-10 scale ratio. He may be used to it now, but he remembers the sleepless nights, sharp pain electrifying everywhere in your joints, dreams of imagination of being painless, and exhaustion that holds tight onto you. He knows how awful it is, and seeing you in pain makes him uncomfortable.

With this said, Simon understands that all you need is care, love, and patience. Moving to-room-to-room could take so much out of you, even lifting a book has you gritting in pain, to which he takes care of you — easily taking it out of your hands. He often carries you, asking if you require anything else, and places you down wherever you like in the rooms.

To no surprise, Simon knows how to deal with pain: bringing you pain meds prescribed by your doctors, surprising you with your favorite snacks, running you a bath with bath–salts, or even going out of his way to massage your swollen joints, but only if you want him to.

Having limited movement because of your own pain leaves Simon’s really close to you. He’s at your beck and call, never forcing you to move, always groaning as he gets up from the bed to retrieve your choice of hobby, gladly fixing the blankets around your body and making himself comfortable beside you again. His arms around you, tracing lines in your skin as he asks what you want to watch on TV.

Simon does everything around the house for you without being asked. It’s how he shows his affection, other than being physically touchy, but he isn’t one for lovey-dovey words. Within the stance of you resting, you might have an ounce of guilt and try to help him — which he quickly refuses.

About the third time you get up, despite his warnings, he’s carrying you back to bed, grouching that you need to rest, not worry about him, and that you deserve as much rest as possible.

For the days when it’s hard to do self-care, he doesn’t judge and is more than happy to help you. Brushing your teeth for you in bed, gently changing your clothes, bringing in facial wipes, and ensuring you take your night meds; letting you lay on his chest, tracing the outline of your face, and giving himself a bit of a relief, as you’re slowly getting better.

König:

Attentive to your needs, kissing the side of your head as he reminds you to take it easy. König is fretting over you, always checking in and hopes that if he makes you something, it’ll ease your pain. But it’s never that easy. He realizes that it isn’t enough, that it’s more than you just feeling bad.

He’s babying you, and while he knows you’re capable of doing things, especially since you have had this forever, König would hate for you to extend your pain, or worse, have to go to the hospital due to a dislocation.

Because of this, he carries a lot of things in the house — constantly saying ‘no’ when you’re about to grab the groceries, or helping out with the dishes. He focuses on doing the chores, multitasking on doing the laundry, and coming in every 15 minutes to check up on you.

Chronic pain is difficult. He knows there’s medication, things that he will and can get for you to soothe the pain, but he doesn’t know the extent of your pain. So, when you express the burning sensation, or the pins-and-needles, he takes your words and works on making it decrease. König carries you, letting you lay on the freshly made bed, and asking what you want to do, as it’s a lazy-loving day for the two of you.

He’s constantly around you — gifting you things, your favorite foods, drinks, or whatever you feel at the moment. He’s always bringing you fresh-washed blankets, ducking them in tightly and kissing your forehead before sitting right next to you, hand on your thigh.

When the days of not feeling good, and you can’t leave the bed with how sore you are, he’s there, hand-feeding you soups, and praising you on how well you’re doing. He’s carrying you to the bath, starting the water to a nice temperature and having you strip; turning around for privacy before helping you in when you’re ready. König, of course, helps with washing your body and hair, kissing your skin gently as he asks what you want for dinner.

König lets you know that it’s okay, and you’re okay. He’s coddling you, always by your side and on your side, letting you lay in bed, and helping you stretch in order to regain a bit of flexibility. He knows it hurts, he sees your barely-down-to-tears, but this is necessary and he’s sorry.

—

Masterlist || Reblogs, comments, and likes are very much appreciated!! Stay well!!

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oceantornadoo · 2 months

Note

IDK! HEAR ME OUT THO!!!

Simon, staging the break in and what not so he could push you back into his arms??? INSANE!

Delicious story. Thank you for the food! <3

so originally when i made that last fic (which unexpectedly blew up tysm everyone) i added in the creepy elements almost on accident?? but this and another reply has me thinking...

tw: slight humiliation (but you'll like it)=

simon riley wasn't a bad man. he also wasn't a bad husband. at least that's what he told himself.

when you had presented him with those divorce papers a bit ago (13 months and 4 days, but who was counting), he thought it was a bluff. a joke. he had gone too far in your last argument, and that was your reaction. when he told you he'd go to therapy, you stared at him with a look he'd only see on men in the battlefield. dead all the way through, a walking husk. so he signed them and went to therapy anyways.

the whole time, this whole 13-month break, where you had been 'building a new life' or whatever, he had been planning. internalizing the commentary his therapist would make, and then spitting it back out to you while you moved out of his place. every time you seemed to forget one extra box, and who's to say if he hid a couple in his room? he had a plan.

over time, simon really seemed to have learned so much from therapy. so much about communication. he had become open and welcoming, far from that man who would respond to your complaints with hard stares and a lack of words. so maybe you met for coffee a couple of times and that's how he knew about the cafe by your new place. maybe that's how he tailed you one night after a date, just to make sure this new guy didn't try anything (and not to figure out your unit number). whatever he did, he played a dangerous game by letting you have this illusion of freedom while balancing his presence in your life, just enough to make you want more. after weeks and week of stagnant progress, he needed one extra push. something small, not even a shove.

and if he happened to mention your unit number to a bunch of shady guys that hung out in the alley by your building? happened to brag about your pretty pussy and sweet-smelling panties? maybe mention your habit of not locking the window when you left for work? who's to say. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

and now here you were, back in his arms where you belonged. a little frightened but comforted in the knowledge that he could protect you. the ghost wasn't shed when he took his mask off, but you didn't need to know that.

your body was so used to being in simon's arms you didn't even realize you had been grinding on him for the past ten minutes. his boxers you wore were sticky with arousal as you grinded against his clothed cock in the dark. even in your dream, it was simon underneath you, no one else. "si." you panted, a near-whisper that only a military man could have heard. "dove?" he adjusted your sleeping positions, tossing the covers to give you more room to maneuver against him.

"i know i said that thing about the line not being crossed." he gave you a low chuckle. silly little girl. you had finally realized how much you needed him and he was going to milk you for all you were worth. "and?" you stopped. shit. he needed to seem more responsive. he moved you from his thigh to his boner using one arm, the other one snaking its way under your shirt to stroke your back. you moaned as he massaged the tension from the day's earlier events away, giving you sweet relief. the sweetness of the massage made a hard contrast to the friction in your core as he rubbed you against his hardened cock.

"spit it out, baby." he growled. "can you-fuck." his hand had moved to the back of your neck now, holding it in a tight grip. his hand was so large he could feel the pulse points on either side of your jaw, heart racing. finally. "can you get me off? just this once?" he snorted, moving you up and down against him faster, dragging your sensitive clit over and over. "what's the magic word?" he flipped you both around, pressing his body weight on top of you.

simon turned the light on, wanting to see how needy you were. you were panting, shirt sticky with sweat as your chest moved up and down with exertion. he hiked up your shirt and took off your boxers, exposing your sticky cunt to the cool air. he took a sniff of the fabric, noting your small gasp as if you didn't know how obsessed he was with you already. "magic word." your mouth dropped. guess you weren't getting off that easily. "please, simon." he clucked his tongue at that. "ghost?" he left out a short laugh, arms reaching out to tug his shirt off of you. your nipples were so hard, aching to be pinched and sucked just how you liked them. "not ghost." he reached over to his nightstand, pulling something out of the drawer. he fumbled with his hand for a second, then held yours up to the light as he slipped something on it.

"husband." the words left your mouth in a whoosh, eyes transfixed on your wedding ring that was on your hand. the one you had flung at him after he complained about the divorce papers, the one you said you'd rather die than wear again. and here it was, right back on your finger, sparkling in the lamplight.

simon captured your mouth in a rough kiss, entering you with his ring and middle finger at the same time. "so willing for your husband, hm? all puffy and wet. look at your cunt, darling." you both looked down at your pussy at the same time. it was squelching, your vibrator sessions not holding a candle to what your ex husband could do to you. you were almost embarrassed by how desperate your pussy looked, clit enlarged from its earlier friction. his fingers worked in and out of you, wedding ring covered in slick. you watched as he pressed his thumb to your clit in small circles, a tightening sensation in your lower belly rising to the surface. "simon, si-fuck" he gave your pussy a small slap, pulling his fingers out as you addressed him incorrectly. "husband, please." he entered you again roughly, drawing a low moan from you. he captured your nipple in his mouth, teething it just enough to make you hurt. punishment.

"please please please i'm right ther-" he pressed hard against your clit and sent you careening off the edge into your orgasm, back bowing off the bed. simon gave you small love bites as you recovered, hand still working your cunt to draw out your orgasm.

finally, he removed his fingers and drew back from you, forcing eye contact. he put both in his mouth, moaning at the taste of your arousal mixed with the metal from the wedding band. your jaw was still open, looking at him like you had never seen him before. like the sheep's skin had finally been removed, and now only the wolf remained.

"let's get you to bed, wife."

#simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon riley smut #simon riley wife #fluff #ghost call of duty #ex husband ghost #tornadothoughts #yandere simon riley

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konigsblog · 2 months

Note

Kidnapper Simon stealing both of his most important people in his life??? Forcing them to worship him? Worshiping them??? Making reader and Johnny making out??? Sucking him off?

Or putting them in this ballgag??

CW: RAPE, kidnapping, degrading, recording, kidnapper-simon. ghost-soap x afab!gn!reader.

18+ DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT.

i'm a firm believer simon finds a sick form of enjoyment seeing his two captives cry pathetically, dribbling all over each other whilst he takes turns stretching out your tight asshole. you're forced to maintain eye contact with johnny through glassy tears, rolling down your cheeks slowly as simon grunts quietly, the pulsating feeling of his hung cock oozing out fluids inside of your hole causing you to sob out, pained weeps causing simon's wet length to twitch.

johnny hates seeing you like this, despite barely knowing you. in the few weeks simon has had you two for himself, johnny has found himself getting closer with you, trying to protect you by offering himself instead. poor johnny, his throat aches from being throat fucked daily, his tight asshole aching from being stretched out without preparation.

you whimper, your sounds muffled as you sit pretty on all fours, your arms shaking and your thighs trembling with each brutal and agonizing thrust. the feeling and impact of his heavy balls smacking against your cunt repetitively leaves you drooling all over yourself in pain – forced to worship and praise simon for this.

simon also enjoys watching you two make out over his hard boner. his rough hands grasp both your heads, pushing your mouths together with his leaking cock between both your swollen lips. watching you lick at each other perversely through horniness, humping simon's boots after being given an aphrodisiac. you're both so pliant when you're drugged, letting simon control you just to get off to your pain.

your kidnapper would shoot ropes his hot fluids all over johnny's pathetic face, watching you lick it off with teary eyes.

#orla speaks #ghostsoap #ghostsoap x reader #soap mactavish smut #yandere simon riley #john soap mctavish x reader #simon riley smut #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley #tw: rape #tw: non con #tw kidnapping #dead dove do not eat #dead dove fic #dark cod #tw: dark content

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gremlingottoosilly · 5 months

Text

That Unwanted Animal [COD Fantasy AU] CursedKnight!Ghost x fem!Reader

Ghost was cursed ever since his king helped him get back to life from his grave. A stench of death, strong and inescapable, renders him unable to find a woman who will be willing to bed him. What will happen when he finally finds a perfect mate? CW and Tags: Dub-con, power imbalance, Medieval Fantasy AU, knight!Ghost, servant!Reader, sex work, brothels, dub-con kissing and touching, obsessive Ghost, dark Ghost, basically Ghost finds a girl and forces her to be his, Ghost is a half-dead resurrected knight, soft reader, submissive Reader.

AO3 Word Count: 2209

“I won’t go to him, he smells!”

“Drop the act, princess, not even half of our guests reek of anything more than their drinks and foul meat.”

“You know how he smells, Katherine. You know what he is.” “What he is, is a client. Rich one. Do you wish to moan under the belly of another failing merchant? Or a peasant’s dick is more to your liking?” “I bring this place more than half of its earnings! I won’t bed a man who has barely got out of his grave and should be put back!” Ghost sighs, his head pressed against the wooden wall. For a brothel, this place has remarkably thin walls. For a brothel, girls out here have remarkably potent noses – and acquired tastes for anything that doesn’t taste like a man who was brought back to life with dead souls still clinging onto every inch of his very being.

For a man of his regals – the blessed knight, the cursed knight, the kiss-your-enemies-goodnight, the spill-your-blood-he might, he has a particular choice in the brothel he tried to entertain himself with. Not like any willing woman would bed him without a sum of gold enough to feed a family for months – and not like he stood low enough to force himself on poor servants of his castle, bringing his dignity and family name down with each handmaiden he tried to grope while on meeting with the king.

“Do you think he is really dead?” “Dead man wouldn’t need a cunt to drown himself in. He had to have something working.” “Maybe he likes to watch? Or to hurt.” “Maybe, we can’t afford to turn him down, princess. Drop your act before he is willing to burn us down for refusing him.” “Well, I heard he went through every brothel in town. Not a single soul bedded him!” “I heard he doesn’t even like girls. Has his royal knight by his side all day.” “He came alone.” “He will be coming alone for the rest of his life with a smell like this!” “Dark magic. King should have known to not trust the Empire and their lurkings.” “Having a blessed knight is good, no? We’re not at war.” “Cursed knight is good in your army, not your bed. But if you are so willing…”

He hears women – from the madam of this fine place, a woman of fine manners, exquisite figure, and the way of looking at him that almost convinces that she doesn’t want to press her fingers against her nose, blocking the smell of death that follows him ever since he became…that. He hears girls of not-so-fine manners, with fine bodies and perfect pretty faces, gentle hands that don’t know about the trials of war. He remembers the way they looked at him – the way they always looked at him.

Scary, horrendous, dangerous. A skull mask and dark tendrils of smoke follow his body, the Grim Reaper himself embedded in his dark armor. No matter how many perfumes he uses, no matter how many washes per day he forces himself onto, nothing can hide the stench of death. He thought he’d be fine with it as long as his battle brothers were with him – as long as he was with them.

Then he got lonely.

Finding a lay in the brothel would be a scandal for a man of his status – but Simon Riley is no man. Not anymore, at least.

“I bet he wears a mask because he is hideous.” “Maybe he is just wounded?” “What kind of wound would make him hide his face while not being hideous?” “Maybe, he just doesn’t want to show his face here.” “No use. By the dawn, all women in the capital will know about great lord Riley, refuced at every brothel.” “What if he kills us?” “What if he burns us?” “What if he…” “Let the servant bring him tea. Make her useful.” Before he could react – as if eavesdropping on a bunch of whores was something of a pleasant chore he was dealing with – a door to his room had opened. Girl, in much simpler clothes than the ones that courtesans were wearing. With a tea tray in her shaky hands, grabbing the poor thing like there was no tomorrow. Huh. Perhaps, with a mug like his as her client, there is no tomorrow for a poor girl.

Ghost sits on the bed, large, muscular legs spread, his dick swaying with attention the longer he is looking at your face. He can’t be picky, not in his state as a not-dead not-man, but he has to admit that you’re pretty. Without all the mannerisms of a prostitute, you look like a poor deer stuck in the predator’s den. Your hands are shaking – but he looks at your face, having no shame in drinking up your expression like a vampire – and he didn’t once saw you wince at the smell. Hm. Must be potent tea you’re serving.

— I didn’t ask for the tea.

Rude, as always – he didn’t come here to be ridiculed by poor attempts at pleasing him without a girl under him, getting her pretty legs open for his cock. He didn’t intend to come here and listen to all of the workers laughing at him like he was a monster – yet, he can’t leave now, his wounded ego grows into something ugly.

— Most of our clients prefer to drink this before the…act. It makes them more potent, as they say.

His cock didn’t have any warm body to dump his semen in years. He doesn’t need tea to make him hard – he sees the glimpse of your skin under those simple robes of yours, and he can already feel it stir, standing up for attention.

— You don’t sound too certain. Your client must not drink it then.

— I…I am not a prostitute, sir. Merely a servant.

He knows already – your makeup is too plain, your manners are off, your clothes are simple grey wool with not a dash of color. If you were his – as a prostitute, a wife, a lover – he would bring you something much brighter and skimpier. You’d look good in silks, he thinks.

Not like you’d allow him to bring you home – not willingly, at least.

— So I figured, love. You’re pretty enough to be one, that’s clear.

“You’re pretty enough to be a prostitute” is a compliment that only sounds good in the head of a man who hasn’t talked sweetly to a woman in ages. His whole life, perhaps, exchanging the embrace of a lady with tight hugs of the war.

— You’re flattering me, sir.

— Bloody hell, woman. Not a flattery if that’s the truth.

— If you say so.

You shift under his gaze like a rabbit in front of an apex predator. Ghost doesn’t want to force any woman to sleep with him – but he looks at the sway of your chest, at the softness of your hips, at the way you tug and scratch on the rough fabric of your skirt as you’re too nervous to look at him…

He must contain himself.

— Why you work as a servant?

— I…tried to be a prostitute, sir. Most clients here don’t like it when you’re not…

He slowly rocks his body closer to you, his head almost laying on your shoulder. He saw the way you looked at him as he leaned to you – you’re surprised, scared, but not disgusted. your nose didn’t twitch a single time, and he is sure that no tea would ever make you this blind to the stench of death lingering on your shoulder now.

There must be something wrong with you – and he wants to save you like a rare treasure because of it.

— Most clients here don’t like what, luv?

— I…have damage, sir.

So he figured. Just didn’t exactly know what you have.

— What is it?

— A…after a bad cold, my sense of smell…never returned. Not for the last three years.

— You don’t smell anythin’? Must be bloody hard.

— It is. But…I manage. As much as I can.

He slowly drapes his hand over your shoulder – you wince at the touch. He thinks of the madam of your fine establishment. The woman didn’t seem the type to beat her girls, but you had such a shy, scared expression as he started to touch you, he can’t wait to burn this fucking place to the ground. Maybe spare a few of your friends if you’d ask him nicely. You won’t be working here again, ever – that much he can be sure of.

— Doin’ a good job, love.

— I hope so, sir.

He drags his hand on your face, squeezing the soft skin of your cheek. You’re adorable – servants shouldn’t be so pretty, it makes him feel bad, it makes him sinful. He should try to hit on the girls who actually work here – not the poor soul that as sent here to bring him here, as a little lam sacrificed to a vicious god.

— You don’t smell me, then?

— I don’t smell anything, my lord.

He chuckles, but your pained expression only makes him chuckle more. Poor thing, living in a place like this without a sense of smell – he can’t believe how you could survive without the smell of heavy incense and creams that all of the whores were using. He loves it when a pretty girl is making herself even prettier – makeup, all of those little elixirs they are putting on their faces, the flowery smells that make his rotting existence a bit easier. It never worked on him, on his disintegrating skin and stench that followed him everywhere – but then it dawned on him.

You have such an adorable, shy smile and a small posture, playing with the edges of your clothes like a girl who is extremely embarrassed to be in a room with a man of his position. But women aren’t shy in his presence, not anymore – they are disgusted, horrified, they want to put their noses into little candy boxes and smell roses just to get rid of the smell.

But you, adorable creature, aren’t disgusted. Hell, how he missed a pretty girl being so shy around him.

Ghost kisses you before he can think of anything else. Before he could give you space to escape, to come to your senses and understand what kind of man he is. Broken, wounded, pushed to the cage, and locked with a key dangling from the side – god knows, Simon Riley isn’t a good man, never tried to be. Devil knows, he will drag you to the grave with him.

Your lips are soft, untouched, you smell of cleaning supplies and sweet tea. Your hair smells like roses and dust, your hands are covered in little scabs – probably from the days spent cleaning and doing the hard work. He will make sure you will never have to work again, not with your hands, at least – he will kiss your callouses and nourish the skin into something delicate, fragile, to the smell of home he lost long ago.

Your mouth tastes like heaven, and Ghost isn’t a man who deserves to push this angel further, isn’t a man who deserves to have a pretty girl moaning under him. He makes you cry, he terrifies you, he kisses you relentlessly and can feel the way your skin burns, tears streaming down your face. If he was a better man, he would oblige to your hands, pushing him away, your mouth is trying to cry for help.

Simon Riley isn’t a good man, and he pushes you on your back, firms hands on your back, on your hips, touching, groping, feeling the skin of a somewhat willing woman. You’re scared, but you should know the kind of job girls here are doing – he didn’t pay all of this money for charity projects, after all. As much as he would pay even more gold just to take you away, to push your legs apart in a scenery much nicer than a room in a brothel. You deserve a real bed, a nice dress that he can rip away from you,

All you get is his hands on your body, ripping your simple skirt apart because he can’t wait to get to the soft skin underneath. He looks at you, precious girl, as adorable as you are, and can’t resist kissing you, stealing breath from your skin. When he finally hears you moan, when his hand goes to grab the softness between your legs – moist, prepared, smelling of roses and arousal, of all things sweet and sinful – all of his sense of self-control shatters.

He will take you on the floor of this room – over and over, claim you as his little maiden, his favorite girl, until he is sure his cursed, rotten seed has filled you to the brim. He will take you away, bringing as much money to your madam as he can manage, buying you all for himself – taking you as his prized possession for the new castle he was ordered to as a lord knight.

Ghost will make you his, hells and heaven be damned.

You cry, but he knows you’ll come around. And he can be very, very patient.

#cod #cod x reader #call of duty #cod x you #yandere cod #ghost x reader #yandere ghost #simon ghost riley #ghost #dark ghost #dark cod #fantasy #yandere male #male yandere

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obsessivelullabies · 4 months

Text

— stalker simon riley.

warnings : intense stalking/yandere themes. suggestion of kidnapping at end. mdni, 18+. gender neutral reader.

a/n : i need to sleep but the idea came to me </3 dunno if i'll make a part two but it would probably be both endings? idk

simon riley had been stalking you for years. his obsession started after you’d shown him, a stranger, a simple act of kindness. could you blame him? he was going through a rough patch. you were exactly what he needed to make him feel better.

everyday he had on leave was centered around you. it wasn’t like he had anybody else. simon learned everything he could about you through your social media, your routine, what you spent time doing.

over time, his obsession only get more obscene. he set up cameras outside your house to ensure your safety, he found a way to comb through all your messages and began leaving gifts on your doorstep.

it started with something cute. maybe flowers or some chocolates he knew you liked. innocent stuff. it escalated into creepy notes, polaroids of you doing everyday things.

one day, as you were at the grocery store, he finally broke into your home. due to his military training, he was sure he could go undetected. he set up more cameras inside. this was his best fucking idea. this way, even when he was deployed, he could see your gorgeous face and body.

simon would spend time observing you from the comfort of his apartment. he’d fist his cock to your pace as he watched you fuck yourself with dildos. he knew he could fuck you so much better. the idea consumed him, how well you’d take his cock, the slutty little moans and gasps you’d let out.

once he set up those cameras of you, his desires only got worse. he’d have a wall of printed out photos of you in his apartment. every night, he day dreamt about how badly he needed you. he thought about waking up beside you, cooking you breakfast, kissing you, snuggling with you.

you were his safe haven. his escape. when he was deployed, he always pushed forward thinking about the day he’d finally be able to hold you in his arms.

simon knew he had to make you his. in his mind, he had two options. one, slowly and naturally infiltrate your life, be the perfect man you needed. or, the faster, easier way: taking you.

after lots of thought, he knew what he had to do.

masterlist.

#yandere x reader #yandere #cod mw2 #cod x reader #cod x you #call of duty #cod mw2 x reader #simon ghost riley smut #simon riley smut #simon ghost x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley #stalker #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost x you

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