#shifting to cod

[ember0666]

Relationship stuff is so strange to me. I love thinking about being with my S/o. Cuddling, kissing, yk couple stuff. Thoigh when it happened to me here I get... weird.

I'm talking to a guy and he's super sweet. He's the first person who's actually treated me right and I'm not even sure if u like him the way he likes me. It's like I either get scared and want to run or I just don't have those feelings and I'm not sure I've ever had with people.

That's something I'm scared of for in my dr. Cause I love Simon. I do. And I know with the magic of shifting realities, I'll actually feel it because anything is possible. But for me here. It's not something I really experience. If any of that makes sesne

I'm really just using this app for ranting and writing down my thoughts. Sorry if that's annoying

[theartisticautisticc]

Introduction Of A Sort:

Hello, my name is Tobey but I tend to be referred to by olivander as well. That is one of my names.

My pronouns are they/he, I am an enby trans man :3 (my identity is not up for debate so don't try)

I am no longer in school due to my autism and Adhd (and other things that I will not get into) so now I work for my parents.

I am an artist and a reality shifter (anti shifters dni). I've been doing art since 2018 I believe. Digital art and traditional art are mediums I switch between, but I do tend to avoid painting. That shit scares me /lh

Most of the art I create is self indulgent but I am working on making a few oc's (I have two).

I am not the best when it comes to formatting and writing :,) so I do apologize for that.

Some content I want to post here:

First i want to mention something with my asks.

For asks you can request doodles of my drselfs and ocs. You can ask questions abt them, but you can also ask for little scenarios abt how they interact or how they would react to a situation. You can request outfits for me to draw on them or stuff like that. If that makes sense :3 keep things sorta chill, I am 16 years old after all.

I want to post my art and some little written scenes from my Dr's. That's my main goal for now.

My Dr's that I'll post abt:

-Supernatural Dr

-Loki Dr

-The defenders Dr (marvel)

-venom Dr

-Atsv Dr

-Cod monster Dr (Ghoap ver)

-Cod monster Dr (Graves ver)

-teenwolf Dr

If you have any questions about my Dr's and what they are like, or about my Dr self feel free to leave an ask :3

My interests:

-Supernatural

-Alice Madness Returns

-the defenders (marvel)

These are my current hyperfixations but they might change.

[tojisun]

!! bimbo f!reader; daddy kink; john’s pov // shiu’s version // dividers by @/plutism <33

john loves you so much; he loves spoiling you lots.

you're a sight for sore eyes, round and sweet, but that's not what only gets him going—you're kind to a fault, looking up at him all starry-eyed like he's not a bad man. like he's not broken and angry, and all mangled from within until it has him toying with people's moralities.

you curl in his arms, so giggly and bright, almost like you're unknowing of what he does, of what he's capable of, but you've always known better than anyone else. after all, john trusts no one more than he trusts you.

you are so, so lovely; stoking his desires, filling him up with this miasmic need that burns from within. he aches every time, so desperate to feel you. to touch you. to have one more taste because you've turned john insatiable, his hunger constant, burrowing deep in the yawning of his stomach.

he wants more from you. he will always want more.

.

"daddy?" you call, pattering out of your room with a little pout. john's quick to drop the call, not bothering to say any goodbyes to ghost, and turns all of his attention to you.

he gulps, feeling himself chub up underneath his slacks. you've got your neon green tube top on, the fabric taut as it clings to your skin. there's a little slip of cut by the front of it, and all that's keeping the fabric twined together are the little straps that converge into an 'X', framing your pretty tits in a way that has his throat constricting, his thirst palpable as it rolls off him in waves.

you don't notice of course, eyes turned to the baby blue slip of a dress you're carrying.

"hi, sweet'art," he croaks out, pulling your attention back to him, almost pleading.

you look up, blinking like you've forgotten he was there or that you were even asking for him, before a smile dances on your lips, tugging that kissable pout away.

"john!" you say, giddy, bouncing in your place and it—

jesus, it makes your tits wobble, your tight tube top not really doing anything to hide the fact that you don't got a bra on.

you tryna kill him or somethin', doll?

"c'mere," he grunts, patting at his lap.

you fall on top of him with a squeal, all your tender parts dimpling as you nuzzle close, humming in delight when john brushes his lips on your forehead. he adjusts himself on the seat, arm curling around your waist, tugging you impossibly closer.

"so what's got you into a tizzy?" john asks, rubbing his hand atop your belly, his cock chubbing up even more at the softness of your pudge.

"oh," you murmur, breathless, your eyes tracking his caresses. "was jus' wonderin' if i should wear this top or the blue dress, s'all."

"yeah?" john begins peppering kisses along the shell of your ear, huffing when you squeak, body jolting at the ticklish feeling that his stubble makes. "and y'wanted daddy's thoughts, s'that it?"

"mhmm." you sound distant. distracted.

john trembles, just as dizzy with his need. he wonders if he can coax you out of that outing you were planning with your friends. he wonders if he can ask you to stay because there's something else he'd rather do than talk to his mates.

(maybe he'll have you kiss his cock and have you smear that lipgloss all over the leaking slit; or have you sit on his face since it's been a while since he's got a taste, and john is parched.

or maybe he'll have you ride him, give him a view of those pretty tits bouncing, your nipples hard and in need of being sucked on. maybe he'll make a mess out of that top, yeah? lick you through it, watch it go damp and see-through, until the green of your top is muddled with the colour of your areolas.

or maybe he'll breed you, huh darlin'? you'd want that, wouldn't you? have him fulfill his promises—make a mom out of you?)

"well, baby," john begins, his voice gruff as he pulls himself out of his imaginations. he kisses the slope of your neck, and breathes in the smell of your body wash. "i do love that green top better—shows more of y'r girls, doesn't it?"

you giggle, almost a touch shy, before nodding. john's heart swells, the aching need in the pit of his stomach peaking, bloating. he can't help himself—his darling love is warm on top of him, beautiful and soft. a lesser man would've crumbled faster; pawing at your body, hand rough as it fondles your tit—

really, john deserves a goddamn award for how saintly he's acting; holding back like he's not leaking in his boxers.

but he remembers how excited you've been about this night out and jobn would rather fuck his fist than ever be the cause of your disappointment, so he takes a ragged breath in, leashing his desires back in the pit of his stomach, weaving it beneath his blood, and taps your hip to send you off.

you climb out of his lap with a huff before you twirl, bending forward and planting a sloppy kiss on his lip. you leave them sticky, marked by your lipgloss.

"see you later, daddy," you trill, waving, before you run back to the room. john can only grunt, unable to trust his weakened voice.

.

driven by his deprivation, john fishes a lingerie out of your hamper and pockets it. he'll need it for later—the night is young.

[wdymidekn]

What if we kissed under the missile toad

[sgt-tombstone]

headcanon that Ghost doesn’t know how to drive a manual transmission. Military vehicles are all automatic, and he’d never had a reason or opportunity to learn, so he just… hadn’t. At least, not well. He’d driven stick shifts enough to understand the basics and not stall every time he got behind the wheel, but it’s not something he’s super comfortable with

When he retires (or is forced to retire), the car that Price sets him up with is a manual. He makes it back to the flat (that Price also set him up with) with no small amount of frustration, and he spends the rest of the following week in a state of near-paralysis

If it were just the car, it would be fine. He’s not afraid of learning new things, and he’s definitely not one to let his own pride get in the way of being a functional adult human being. But it’s not just the car. It’s the disruption to his whole routine, the stark unfamiliarity of civilian life, the fundamental alteration of his entire life being uprooted and hastily replanted. The car is just the physical embodiment of it

He’s avoids driving as much as possible, because he hates the reminder that things are different. If he just stays in his flat, he can almost pretend that he’s just on leave. So he lives on take-out, he doesn’t furnish his flat past the bare essentials, he doesn’t let himself settle in

It all comes to a head when Johnny tries to visit on his leave. He asks Simon to pick him up at the airport, and Simon… can’t. He’s built such a mental barrier around his car, the physical manifestation of everything slipping out of control in his life, and he just… can’t

He calls Johnny, who’s obviously still at the airport if the background noise is any indication, and he pours it all out. The empty flat, the constant take-out, the unmoored feeling, and above all, the fucking car. He’s scared, he’s alone, he’s in over his head, and it’s the first time he’s admitted any of it. When he finishes his outpouring of uncharacteristic emotion, Johnny just says, “I’ll help you buy a new car,” like it’s that easy, like that will solve everything

And it does, because the car was never just a car. Johnny cashes in all of his built-up leave time and helps Simon pick out a new (automatic transmission) car. He helps Simon shop for furniture, even if it takes all day and they both leave the store frustrated with nothing to show for it. He helps Simon stock his pantry with ingredients, snacks, and pre-prepared meals, because some days are worse than others. He helps Simon get his feet underneath him, because it’s something he’s never had to do before

He never drives a manual transmission again and he thinks that maybe that’s okay

[unhingedpolycule]

After this, he proceeds to flirt via the Kubric stare for weeks. It works. Eventually.

[moongreenlight]

Pretty server!Reader. Mean head chef Ghost. Overly friendly manager Price. Flirty bartender Gaz. Creepy line cook Soap.

[imagine-shenanigans]

Ugh I neeeeeed more of that ghost fic where he basically assigns himself as your boyfriend after defending you from a creep 😭😭 he’s so yuck but also where my men at

great news i started writing it as a oneshot but in the meantime heres some extra ideas to tide you over that im not sure if theyre going in the fic or not

Ghost doesnt end up touching you sexually at first, its all just grounding to him. Almost reverent, at times, when you wake up to him in your bed and he wasnt there before, fingertips running along your skin, eyes half lidded. Like something he never thought he could have. Presses his face to the crook of your neck and breathes. Its so soft and... well, tender, that you almost forget he broke in again. (Almost.)

calling the cops on him does absolutely nothing. every complaint is wiped from the database, any time you try and report him to a commanding officer... nothing. He's a fucking ghost, what did you expect? To invite him in and be done wirh him when he gets scary? No sweetheart, you take the whole of him whether you like it or not. (And you will like it, he will make sure of it.) The first time you call the cops and go to a hotel room, he flips you onto your stomach and spanks you raw, makes you cockwarm him with your mouth for an hour at least while he tells you exactly what you did wrong. Slips a remote control vibrator in you and then a chastity belt and sends you on your merry way back home when he's done. Sets the vibrator off at random times during the night

The first time you complain to Price, the captain just raises an eyebrow, and sighs. Tells you that he's not going to get involved in anyone's marriage, and you blink at him, dumbly, until Ghost walks in. When Price repeats himself, this time to Ghost, Simon huffs and takes you home. He spanks your pussy hard between edges, but eats you out reverently for the rest of the night, rutting his hips into the mattress as you sob and writhe against where your wrists are bound behind your back. When you're all wrung out he slips a ring on your finger and warns you not to take it off.

Simon pulls you into his lap while watching movies, running his hand along your sides soothingly. He doesn't watch horror movies, or slashers, surprisingly enough. He won't entertain the idea of anything even remotely scary and flicks it off with a displeased hum, turning it to cartoons when you try and put on Scream (half to make a point, half for the joke) and pulls you down onto hsi chest so youre cuddling.

This Simon hates to see you cry, hates discomfort, hates anything negative (but understands ehen it happens). You're his girl, and hes your man, and so that means you should be happy. He wants to treat you right, even as he chips your phone so he can find it anywhere. Can find YOU anywhere. Won't take no for an answer. He does whatever he pleases, because you're his. And you do whatever you please because he's YOURS. Gets rock fucking hard if you push him down and ride his face or his cock, hell if you lay next to him, and press his fingers to your clit he'll take care of you for hours until you stop.

You punish HIM once, just to see if you can, and are astonished when Simon lets you mark him up with hickies because he was out too late drinking. He lets you edge him for an hour, and takes it because youre his wife and he knows he fucked up. (Only lets you do this when he feels like it though. When he decides you're right. Or thinks its fun.)

Also gets rock hard when you're jealous - even if you try not to be. to remjnd yourself that hes invented a relationship in his head, that hes a creep, etc... he just presses you into the mattress and coos softly at you, his thick cock pumping in and out of you as tears bead in your eyes. Tells you how precious you are, and fucks the jealousy out of you for hours if need be. Then he holds you close, making you cockwarm him. He presses soft kisses to your head and runs his hands over your skin. Lets you drool on his chest and snore and shuffle around in your sleep. Chuckles when you snuggle into him

[forestshadow-wolf]

I bet Ghost is an excellent stick shift driver, driving is smooth af when he's behind the wheel, better than anyone else in the 141

But soap can't drive stick to save his life. He stalls like 6 times before he gets it into gear

[esteljune]

Johnny "Soap" MacTavish gifs [17/?]

[uhohdad]

cries i don't think my ask went thru i don't know how to tell when ur doing requests or whatever anyways. i love bullying soft!könig i imagine it's hard to break him down at first but he's got some weaknesses? right?. ?? i had this idea.

do you think he's into masochism. so used to pain on the battlefield and a lack of pleasure seeking back at the base its because its still work, what does he even have to do on breaks?? on leave?? is he used to the loneliness?? has he accepted it or does a piece of him still crave??? does he feel like he deserves it and it creates this twisted perversion upon himself to love how he hates the way he loves.

what if you met him at a hole-in-the-wall bar. they serve dinner and drinks and there's always someone on the stage singing a song. you go there to eat the delicious food and listen to the local artists and occasionally a drink, but you're alone most of the time.

then this mountain of a man comes in, hunched like he's trying to make himself shrink out of existence, tentatively walk up to the bar. he's obv not local. his eyes darting around nervously, orders something you can't understand, but you're feeling thirsty and the waiter hasn't come around for 30 minutes.

you saunter up to the bar and order yourself dessert and look at the stranger. he makes fleeting eye contact, maybe you smile. something draws you in. "You new to town?" you might say. he nods. you talk a little, order him a drink. maybe he's a lightweight, or you just made him feel less crazy, because now you're both back at your booth sharing the dessert you ordered, talking about how weird other people are and how it's nice to talk to someone down to earth. it's so strange and it's so nice and the night goes on, and somehow, still, you find yourself falling for This Stranger, and so at some point, one of you takes the other by the hand, you're scooting closer. some silly sense of connection makes you feel comfortable enough to let your hand sit on his thigh. he's got blue eyes. drinking you in. you start touching him under the table. rubbing his thigh thru his cargo pants, gripping your nails through and letting him lean in with bourbon-cholocate lingering in his breath and something else, something desperate. you're letting your hand slip down his pants (at some point the belt was off. and it wasn't by your doing) and palming at his swollen cock. you can feel it throb. blue eyes. you can feel his breath on your neck as he leans in, trying to hide all this under the premise of vulnerability, a hug, but you know it's more. he wants something.

you let your nails graze his balls and feel them tighten. he's hot to the touch but his fingers are cold as they hover above your hand. he guides you back up to hold his cock. keep going, he urges. he doesn't have to even say it.

you're raking your nails down his pelvis to then grasp and pull his cock. pumping it with a slick hand and thumbing the tip with your thumbnail. he's trembling. his breath pitches in your ear like a barely concealed whine. don't stop. don't stop even when it hurts. you jerk him off til he cums with a shuddering exhale and his knees hitting the underside of the table. you don't stop. you squeeze and pump him with his new slick, moving faster, there's sweat on his forehead and your shirt and he's barely keeping composure as you rake red lines down his shaft as he thrusts pathetically up into your hand, overstimulated and shaking at the realization he loves it, he loves this.

do you think he's into masochism.

you come onto my blog, sweet anon, you gift me the most delicious, scrumptious, beautiful concept and smut?? you upstage me on my own blog, sweet anon??

if i wasn’t into it before, i sure am now baby 😍😍😍

this is gold top to bottom but that second paragraph is ARTTTTTT

[ember0666]

My mental health has been really bad the past couple months and I feel like it's getting worse tbh. I want to shift. Not to just get rid of it like magic. So I can learn to work though it and heal myself in a safe way with someone I can lean on for support like I don't have here.

Just a tiny rant ig

[whatev-i-guess]

Johnny softly brushes over Ghost's small finger with his

Ghost mumbling: What are you doing?

Johnny: Nothing...

Ghost: We are in the middle of a briefing, Sergeant.

Johnny: And no one can see our hands under the table.

Ghost blushing under his mask and turning his head away

Ghost interlocking their fingers: Whatever.

[sgt-tombstone]

2 or 38 (or both at once!) for the kiss roulette writings! 💋

2. A kiss on the nose

38. A kiss while one party is carried

Here’s a bare-bones 5+1 idea: 5 times Johnny kissed Ghost on the nose and 1 time he couldn’t quite reach

1. The first time it happens, it’s supposed to be a joke. They’re in the mess hall, the entire 141 crowded around a table far too small for their hulking figures, and far too much money is being placed on a stupid bet. Ghost criticizes Soap’s sniper scores (“better work on your aim, sergeant”), Soap quickly defends (“Ah’ve impeccable aim, thank ye, LT”), and then pounds hit the table, which means that Soap has to prove himself. He stands up with a joking quip, leans down to press an exaggerated kiss to Ghost’s balaclava-clad nose, and marches off to the sniper range to defend his honor (he doesn’t notice Ghost’s blazing blush, nor does he beat any of Ghost’s personal records, so it’s a bust in nearly every regard)

2. The second time it happens, it’s full of uncertainty. Soap and Ghost are standing outside, just out of the light of the base flood lamps, their faces lit only by the glowing tip of their shared cigarette. Ghost is still in his hard-shell mask, droplets of blood staining the… plastic? resin? bone? Soap has never asked, and he’s not sure he wants to. The tension is thick, cloying and suffocating, and Soap takes a leap of faith. He plucks the burnt-down cigarette from between Ghost’s lips, brushes his lips against the tip of Ghost’s nose where it peeks out of the triangular cutout, and grinds the cigarette under the heel of his boot. It takes a moment for Ghost’s brain to reboot, and then Johnny finds himself pulled in for a real, proper kiss, both of them grinning so hard that they can barely manage it

3. The third time it happens, it’s full of worry. Their safe house is in the middle of the woods in the middle of nowhere in the middle of Russia and it’s fucking freezing. Ghost is bundled up as much as he can be, but he’d caught a bad chill the day before, and shivers wrack his body ceaselessly. Johnny builds the fire as best as he can, tending to it religiously, finding comfort in the knowledge that no one is actively hunting them. He strips his outer layers, those covered in snow and ice, and climbs into the cot with Ghost, wrapping them both in their emergency blanket, pressing as close as possible to fit. He wraps his arms around Ghost’s sleeping figure, trying to imbue as much warmth as he can, and he silently, softly, kisses Ghost’s chilled nose. Exfil is on its way, he knows, and they’ll both survive the night, but he’d rather them both be somewhere warm, or at least far more comfortable than this

4. The fourth time it happens, it’s a little bit sloppy. Ghost has his arm around Johnny, supporting some of his weight as they stumble out of the pub. Johnny had managed to drag the 141 out to grab a pint and watch the footie match between Scotland and… someone; none of them are really sober enough to remember who, only that Scotland had won by two goals and Soap had decided to celebrate with two more rounds of shots. Ghost has never been more aware of the gap between his short term and long term memory; he can actively feel each passing moment fall through the cracks, lost to time and drink and something akin to joy. Johnny’s still crowing about something, loud and proud and completely inintelligible, and then he surges up and presses a wet kiss to the tip of Ghost’s masked nose, grinning like a fool the whole time. When Ghost wakes up the next morning, his arms still curled around a fast-asleep Johnny, the only memory he has of the night before is the feeling of Johnny’s lips on his skin, and he’s completely okay with that

5. The fifth time it happens, it’s stark and sterile. The mission had gone badly, because they always did. The intel was fine, the target wasn’t unexpected, and there hadn’t been any outside interference, and yet… Ghost had taken a bullet to the arm, and then one to the gut, and blood had been everywhere, spilling too fast and too far, running in rivulets that Soap couldn’t stop. And now Ghost is unconscious. Wrapped in bandages, clad in a thin, stark white hospital gown, covered in a thin, stark white hospital blanket, and Johnny can’t help it. He doesn’t care that Gaz and Price are standing right there, heads bowed in a semi-private conversation of their own just two feet away. He perches on the edge of the hospital bed, Ghost’s limp hand clutched in between both of his own, and presses a gentle kiss to his nose before resting his forehead against Ghost’s. He’s not sure how long he stays like that, time measured only in the rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor, but then Ghost’s eyes are blinking open, the anesthetic wearing off slowly, and Soap can only smile a tear-filled, watery smile, steeped in relief

+1: The sixth time it happens, it’s a warm day. Johnny had joked that they were lucky; Scotland only has three days of summer per year, so the weather choosing to behave for their wedding day is nothing short of a blessing. It’s a simple affair, despite the entirety of the MacTavish clan showing up for the festivities, and before Johnny knows it, the vows have been said, the rings have been exchanged, and the symbolic kiss has been delivered upon waiting lips. And it’s over. He’s officially married to the love of his life, and he couldn’t be happier. He turns to the crowd, preparing to walk back down the aisle with his new husband in tow, but instead he feels his feet leave the ground as Simon sweeps him up and into his arms. He’s grinning like an idiot; they both are, but they don’f care how they look to everyone else. They only have eyes for each other. Johnny gazes adoringly up at his husband as Simon marches them down the aisle, headed back to the house to get refreshed before the reception. He lifts a hand, wrapping it around the back of Simon’s neck, and strains up to kiss him. But he can’t reach. Instead, his lips brush the divot of Simon’s bare chin, freshly smoothed and still smelling of aftershave, and Simon grins down at him.

“Better work on your aim, sergeant,” he quips, and Johnny can only laugh, giddy in the knowledge that he’s always had impeccable aim

———

prompt from this list!

[kkurayokai]

when i feel demotivated about shifting i just remember i could be fucking simon riley right now if i got my shit together

[robinthisbank]

All of you have failed to consider Ghost serenading Soap with his guitar