#divinetexts
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Ghost sharing you with the rest of the 141, simply because he honestly can't keep up with your sex drive. Ghost fucking loves you, but he isn't in the mood that often. It's a wonderful thing when he is — he always gets you sobbing from pleasure with his nice, thick cock and dirty words spilling from his mouth — but it just doesn't happen much. Between his chronic pain flaring up or his ptsd rearing its head he finds it a little difficult to want to fuck you as often as you'd like him to. He knows you're more insatiable than him and he feels guilty sometimes, not being able to keep up; even though you have never and would never complain about the infrequency of sex.
Takes a while for him to come to terms with it. Takes a bit longer for him to decide on what he thinks is the only suitable option; let his mates, the men he trusts with his life, have their way with you. Starting with the one he trusts most.
It's nerve-wracking the first time he lends you to Captain Price, some cynical part of him worried that you'll like it a bit too much and decide Ghost isn't worth sticking around for. Ghost shouldn't have been worried though — Price sends along a video of him fucking you, assumedly recorded just seconds before. The noises you make are loud and filthy. You're clearly cockdrunk and almost incomprehensible when you whine. But when Price growls the question in your ear, you don't hesitate.
"Tell us who you belong to, sweetheart, go on. Who owns you, darlin?"
"S-Simon!" You moan, nearly sobbing it out. Ghost's hand is on his clothed cock as he watches you cry and squirm. "Ah, 'm Simon's! Please, please, fuck, please!"
Price chuckles and the video cuts just as his hips speed up. A moment after Ghost is finished watching, a text pops up underneath it.
> Got yourself a good one.
#ghost#ghost smut#simon riley x reader#john price x reader#👍. passes out#ask to tag#rabbittales#1k#5k#divinetexts#10k
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World Environment Day By Pritha Lahiri
Something I wrote yesterday…World Environment DayUnder the canopy of a treeI stoodWondering if it leads meTo the woodI share its joys, sorrows And woesAs it weathers storms Wrought by Climate and FoesThe trees stand sturdyTall and finePastoral gift fromNature DivineText, photo ©® Pritha Lahiri
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One day left to get 20% off tomorrow’s Yi Jing and Qi Gong Workshop. Just click the link below and you’ll be in for a morning of learning, movement, community and meditation! http://www.thelightclinic.org/yijing.html See everyone tomorrow! We’ll have tea and water and handouts. Feel free to bring any snacks you want, and pen and paper for notes!! Isn’t expanding your horizons SO much fun?!! #thelightclinic #yijing #iching #qigong #chigong #internalmartialarts #innerwork #divinetexts #expandyourhorizons #meditation (at The Light Clinic) https://www.instagram.com/p/B5vQ64lAx-G/?igshid=h6nyc91f58sc
#thelightclinic#yijing#iching#qigong#chigong#internalmartialarts#innerwork#divinetexts#expandyourhorizons#meditation
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OF/sex worker reader who faked moans in content x loyal fan Ghost who's discovering this for the first time ? (afab but gender neutral y/n)
When he finally, finally, after months of steady support from afar — it had taken a while, in between missions, for him to really track you down — has you to himself, he thinks he's doing something wrong.
He's got you pulled flush against him, front to back, with your legs spread so he can touch that pretty cunt. He's barely even touched you so far. Not that anyone'd be able to tell, feeling how wet you are for him, he thinks. But he's barely started and you're already making these noises.
Ghost has been watching your content as often as possible since he found it months ago. He knows what you sound like — or at least he thought he did. Instead of the loud, confident moans that he is rapidly realizing sounded a little fake, he's hearing whimpering, gasping moans slip from your lips. They spill out like you almost can't help it.
"Sweetheart," Ghost rumbles. He presses his lips close to your ear so you have no choice but hear him. All the collabs he was forced to sit through while imagining himself in your partners' places flits through his mind. You never sounded like this. "Did none o' them make you feel good, love?"
You suddenly go a little quiet. Were probably hoping he wouldn't call you out on it, huh? That won't do, though. Ghost roughly circles your clit with the pads of his fingers until you can't help but whine under his attention, and then he asks again. He's certain of your answer even before you nod, head jerking as you twitch under his fingers.
"Poor thing," he rumbles into your ear, voice low. "Don't worry, sweetheart, we got all night. I'll take care of ya."
#ghost smut#ghost x reader#simon riley x reader#rabbittales#implied stalking#mostly for my own benefit you can ignore it#is this anything#1k#divinetexts
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justice for fellow short bitches.. gn reader, afab biology. könig has a size kink :) penetration and crying involved
-🐰🐰🐰🐰-
it's difficult to be könig's size and not have a size kink. everyone's small compared to him — he just doesn't think he's ever met someone as small as you. after so long around other soldiers he almost forgot it's possible for someone fully grown to be that short, honestly. he towers over you, casts shadows that swallow you whole and almost make you seem smaller than you already are.
it's intoxicating to him. from the moment he first sees you, lips pursed in an angry pout when he literally runs into you and almost knocks you off your feet, it's all he can think about. how small you are, how cute. how vulnerable.
he's ecstatic when he eventually learns how easy it is to wrap a hand around both of your wrists and pin them to the bed.
it pales to the pride he feels the first time you see him in full, eyes gone wide and slightly fearful at the sheer size of his cock. könig promises to be gentle and slow before you can protest, promises to make sure he fits without hurting you. it's a tough promise to make but he's sure the end result will be worth it.
he's got you in tears with just his fingers stretching you to your limit in preparation. your cunt is weeping for him too; the wet noises echoing throughout the room would embarrass you if you were in your right mind. of course, you're nowhere close to being in your right mind. it feels like könig has been bullying his thick fingers into you for hours and you can barely form a cohesive thought through the pleasure. nothing but more. it drives könig near insane the way you whine for it; begging for something you were so sure you couldn't take just a while before.
who is he to deny such a sweet little thing? his hard cock has been leaking on the sheets the whole time, you can't blame him for being impatient and giving in to your demands.
your whole face scrunches up in discomfort as he starts to push into you. könig really thought he couldn't be any more enamored with you, but that's before you blindly reach down and circle his thick cock with your petite hand to help guide it into yourself. you really want his dick so bad you're willing to help him get it in, even though it stings? you're just so cute.
he's a goner from there on out, losing himself in the feeling of your tight cunt taking him inch by inch while he fights to not thrust into your before you're ready. he's impressed that you get almost halfway down before you start whimpering that its too much, too big. könig somehow takes note of how deep he can go — he doesn't want to hurt you, little thing — and finally, finally, allows himself to move.
it's bliss, it's heaven, he thinks he'll never want to leave your warmth. you're so tight it squeezes almost all rational thought out of him. doesn't help that you're writhing and crying under him, begging him to make you feel better and better. he's got no qualms about giving you what you ask for; he coos at you when you cry and whimper and he growls about how bad he wants to bury himself inside you forever when you moan that it feels so good, könig, please! you know he can't deny you, not when you're crying so pretty from the stretch of his cock in you. he holds your face to kiss you as he thrusts in quick, short bursts until he feels you clench down on him. könig thought you were tight before; the feeling of your tiny pussy coming around him has him seeing stars. he follows almost immediately after, holding you close in his big arms as cum fills you and then begins to leak out of you onto the sheets.
you stay like that, bundled in könig's embrace with his his dick still buried halfway in you, riding out your highs. you whine when he finally convinces himself to pull out; könig has half a mind to shove himself back into you and make himself fit. but he promised gentleness, so instead he gets out of bed to go get you some water and a cloth to clean you up with.
there's always tomorrow, after all.
#konig#bunnytxt#konig smut#könig x reader#size k!nk#cod smut#don't consider myself a writer like rabbit does but hope you enjoy anyhow#konig x reader#könig smut#divinetexts
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uhh. sorta brat tamer!price punishing reader for flirting with ghost? overstim, daddy kink, afab terminology. he calls you his good girl a few times
- 🐰 -
you act like you don't understand why he's doing this to you.
price has you on your elbows and knees — well, knees. your arms gave out after the last orgasm, leaving you to claw at the sheets for any shred of stability. you're still recovering from it, breaths coming out as gasping little things in between the whimpers and whines. the pads of his thick fingers continue to circle your clit, unrelenting even after wringing three orgasms from you so far.
your hips try to jolt away from his touch, his rough callouses just on the wrong side of too much, but price's other hand is firm on your hip. you won't be able to escape him unless he lets you.
"j-john," you keen, voice warbling pathetically, "please, it's - it's too much -!"
your complaint melts into a little squeal as he stops circling your clit, only to pinch it between his thick digits. he coos darkly at your shaking.
"shhshh, darlin', you can take it." he says. his voice is sickly sweet, a condescending comfort. "this is your punishment, sweet'eart. you can be a good girl for me and take it, right?"
you shake your head in an almost frantic manner, absolutely sure that you can't. he murmurs some more sweet nothings at the almost sobbed protests that spill from you. he wouldn't be surprised if you are crying, honestly. 'specially when he starts up again; light and quick, this time.
"no? love, you deserve this, remember?" price reminds you, voice a low rumble. he keeps a careful eye on the trembling of your thighs, ready to support you himself if he's gotta. ready to pull away, if you're really spent enough to call it. "you spent all evening hangin' off Simon, did'ya think I was gonna let that slide? you're mine, love. I'm jus' remindin' you."
"sorry — I'm s-sorry — please, please," you immediately start to gasp. he thinks it's adorable how quickly you start begging for his mercy once you remember what you're being punished for.
"theeeere you go," he groans. your mewling apologies and pleading is like music to his ears. "Sing fo' me, lovie."
hangin' off ghost, honestly. like the man wouldn't notice a pretty young thing like you watching him the whole night at the bar. like he wouldn't be chomping at the bit to get a piece of you, if you got too close.
price expects you to behave around his lads; you know they're ravenous dogs, waiting for his scraps. it's price who decides when to share what's on his plate though, not you. what morsel has a say in who gets to eat them?
"have ya learned your lesson, sweet'eart?" price asks in the same condescending tone as before. you're too far to care about the slightly mean note to his words, other than the fact it makes you clench around nothing. price chuckles when he sees it. "yeah, baby? ready to be a good girl for daddy?"
you nod jerkily, and price clicks his tongue at you. you know better — he needs words outta you, not just empty-headed gestures. in the meantime, his fingers continue to stroke your sensitive clit, making your hips jump in his hand. it is a punishment, after all.
"i'll be good," you sob the promise. even though it stings, you can't help but rock back onto his fingers, desperate for more. for something more filling. "john - ah, daddy, please, i need your cock, please!"
his fingers are off you in a flash. you almost collapse, relief and disappointment at the lack of stimulation mixing into neediness. you don't have to wait more than a moment before price is flipping you around. muscles flexing, clearly not breaking a sweat as he manhandles you onto your back. he parts your legs, not that you make an effort to shut them. you're too worn out to fight, even if you wanted. you don't, though. he can see the want in your eyes.
"there's my good girl," price groans, reaching between your legs again to prod your puffy lips apart. you whine half-heartedly at him, and he pays it no mind. too busy reaching into his trousers to free his aching cock. it looks an angry red after being neglected for your punishment. he groans, low and deep, as he slides the tip through your folds with almost no resistance. "didn't even have'ta tell you to beg for it. you're so wet f'r me, aren't ya, love?"
"please," you whimper. you feel almost like a broken record, but price clearly enjoys it, the way his eyes somehow go a shade darker.
"alrigh', sweet girl, i got you. i know what'cha need."
price could tease you longer, but he's got a soft spot for you. how can he say no to those tears streaking down your cheeks, especially when you don't even seem to notice them. you took his punishment — it'll be another week or two before you start flirting with one of his boys again. for now he'll give you what you want.
he pushes into you in one fluid movement thanks to the slickness of your cunt. it knocks the wind out of your lungs, head craned backwards and eyes fluttering. the both of you moan in unison; his a low timber and yours a high gasp. you rock against him as soon as he's hilted in you — desperate for another release, this time around his cock. as it ought to be.
for a moment price watches you fuck yourself using his cock with half-lidded eyes, reveling in your enthusiasm. depravity, maybe. whichever it is, he enjoys the view.
then he snaps his hips forwards. you choke on a moan, hands flitting between clawing at the sheets and clawing at his arms. price sets a quick pace; he knows you've got to be exhausted by now. as much as he'd love to spend another hour or eight fucking into your wet, warm heat, he can tell you won't last. already you're clenching down around him, chanting ah ah ahs that has him growling back.
"jus' like tha'," he groans, dropping his head to bury against your neck. your arms wrap around his chest, nails pulling at hair just the way he likes. he might not last either at this rate. he can feel the vibrations of your voice as he plants kisses along your neck — you sound gorgeous. broken.
he shifts his hips, fucking up where he knows your sensitive spot is, and listens to you wail. price nips at your jugular and pounds at the spot. your hands scrabble against his back and he lifts his eyes just in time to see yours roll back. he didn't think you could get any tighter but you do — always making daddy proud, the way you surprise him. he groans again as you come around him, his own thrusts stuttering from their previous machine-like pace. it only takes a few more whimpers from you before he's spilling deep inside. he fucks the both of you through it slowly, before he finally relaxes on top of you.
the two of you lay panting for a few minutes, basking in your afterglow. he gathers you close and presses a kiss to your forehead. chuckles when you pull away, whining petulantly at the beard scratching at you.
"tha's my good lass," he murmurs. "go to sleep, love. i'll clean ya up."
#price#rabbittales#john price x reader#john price smut#price x reader#daddy k!nk#ask to tag#passing out again see u guys in like 6 hours#cod smut#divinetexts
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thinking about reader who mistakes Ghost stalking them as being... well, a ghost.
gn reader x stalker!ghost. sfw . for now
- 🩷🐰🩷 -
Your house is haunted. The realtor waits until you're ready to sign to mention that someone died in it — a man, murdered by his wife, the realtor confesses. The last few people who bought it couldn't handle knowing that there was blood on their floors, metaphorically speaking.
It explains why it's so fucking cheap, despite being almost everything you want in a house. Big and beautiful, with plenty of space to grow into if you feel like it. Plus, the housing market is shit. There's no way you'll find a better house in your price range, so you sign the dotted line that officially makes you the owner of a haunted house.
The first few months are absolutely fine. You move in and get settled without a problem. There isn't a peep from a ghost as you make the space your own; painting the walls and installing bookshelves to hold your collection goes smoothly. You find no bones when you till a portion of the backyard to create a little garden. All is calm and unhaunted.
Then things start moving. A book you had on your table is back on the shelves, even though you haven't finished it. Dishes you left on the table end up in the sink. The box of pasta that was out of your reach in the cabinet is miraculously on a lower shelf the next morning.
You can't figure out what changed. Why is your ghost suddenly active after months of radio silence? You haven't done anything new to the house lately. You've been living almost exactly how you were before the ghost decided it was time to mess with things. You have no idea what it could want.
You think you've read somewhere that ghosts will stop if you ignore them, so that's what you decide to do. Don't give the ghost a reaction, and nothing bad will happen. You won't be like the last few owners and abandon your new home.
Things moving get no reaction. When your underwear starts disappearing, you silently judge the ghost, but just buy more. When you find doors you definitely closed propped open, you simply close them. It becomes a part of your routine; just another fact of life.
You ignore the footsteps that pad down your hallways. You pretend you don't see the shadowy shapes of a man lurking in the corners. One time you see him standing motionless on your stairs, and you force yourself to focus on the cup of tea you're nursing. When you look back up, he's gone.
It makes you nervous, but you persist. You won't let this bastard run you out of your house.
So, when you spot him standing outside your bedroom door, face naught but a skeletal visage as he peers inside, you drop your gaze back to your book as calmly as you can. This is definitely the closest you've ever seen him. You can feel his eye boring into you as you pretend to read. You're picking up none of the words, too aware of him watching you. After a few minutes of reading the same sentence, you give up and put it aside.
You flick off your lamp and lay down, pulling your blanket to your shoulder so you don't accidentally look at him again. Just ignore it, you tell yourself, ignore it, ignore it. It feels like hours pass before your eyes droop, exhaustion winning out over the anxiety. Eventually you doze off; the awareness of him still watching fades out with your consciousness. He's just a ghost, after all. There's not much he can do but stare.
You're still ever-so-slightly awake when the door creaks open. You don't pay it much mind, not until the mattress dips. That jostles you awake a bit, though you're still bleary enough that you don't see the hand until it is pressed against your mouth, pushing your head into the pillow. All of the tiredness dissipates in a moment, fear taking its place as you snap awake.
You can feel the warmth of the very real hand through the glove he wears. You stare in horror at the very real man pinning you down. On his face is the same skull that your ghost wears — it hits you like a truck that it was not a haunting but intangible spirit with you in your home. It was a man. It was always this man.
He chuckles, low and rough, when he notices your breath pick up into shallow, fearful gasps.
"There you go, lovie," he rumbles. "Was startin' to think you didn't know to be afraid."
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4 plural bitches unabashedly self shipping and slightly abashedly writing
MDNI, this blog will have untagged nsfw posts! Also dni if you're gonna be weird about systems thanks
Masterlist here x
blog members;
bunny
they/them, but gendered nicknames are fine
22-26yo
freeze
old gods
faves; danny johnson (dbd), Ghost (cod), König (cod)
rabbit
they/them but gendered terms are fine
25yo
flight
new gods
faves; John Price (cod)
cottontail
he/him
28yo
fight
no gods
faves; < whore who's fine with anyone as long as I like the content
doe
she/her
23yo
fawn
love gods
faves; Ghost (cod), Nikto (cod), tba!
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Masterlist
Tag Guide ;
#divinetexts - all original writing
#bunnytxt - things written by Bunny
#rabbittales - things written by Rabbit
#cottontailed - things written by Cottontail
#doeeyed - things written by Doe
Works (by character) ;
Simon "Ghost" Riley;
Sharing - Ghost shares you with Price. nsfw
OF!reader x Ghost - Ghost figures out you've been faking your moans in content. nsfw
The Haunting - Reader mistakes Ghost for... well, a ghost. Pt 1 (sfw). Pt 2 (soon)
John Price;
Sharing - Ghost shares you with Price. nsfw
Punishment - John punishes you for 'flirting' with one of his men. nsfw
König;
Too Big - König and his size kink. nsfw
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