Simon With A Gross Breeding Kink Not Because He Wants A Family (though Getting You Full And Round Wld

just a fever ── simon 'ghost' riley

summary; he's not scared of a lot of things. except the first fever of his daughter.

wc; 0.4k

he has faced down barrels of guns with steely calm, walked through burning houses with his mask soaked in soot and blood. fear doesn't live in his bones anymore—at least, not the kind that comes from battlefields or the breath before a bullet flies.

but this... is new.

grace is burning up in his arms, small limbs restless and face flushed red with fever, and simon's chest feels like it's caving in. her breaths come fast and uneven, and her fingers, always clinging to his dog tags when she's sleepy, twitch like she’s too hot to hold onto anything.

she's just a baby. not even two.

he paces the living room barefoot, her little form tucked tight against his chest, his shirt damp where her forehead rests. you're on the phone with the pediatrician, voice calm but tight—trying not to let him hear the edge in it.

but he does. he hears everything at this point, every beat and every breath.

his hands are too rough for this. trained for holding guns, not tiny bodies burning with sickness. he keeps checking her temperature with a trembling hand against her neck, like it'll tell him something new. like anything will change.

watching grace whimper weakly in his arms, no strength to cry—he can’t protect her from this. and it unravels him.

you turn to him, finally off the call.

"they said it's common. her body's just learning how to fight things off. fever's a sign her immune system's working."

he nods slowly, but his eyes—those same eyes that have stared down warlords and monsters in masks— look hollow now.

"grace is strong," you add, gentler, placing a hand on his arm. "just like you".

but simon doesn’t feel strong. he feels helpless.

"she's never been this hot," he mutters, voice low, rough like gravel. "she looked at me like she didn't know who I was."

"she's tired, love. she knows who you are" you say softly, caressing his shoulder "you're her dad. of course she knows."

she stirs then, tiny fingers curling into his shirt again. her lips part and he hears the quietest murmur—“mgh…”

he exhales like he’s been holding his breath for an hour. cradles her closer. he doesn't even notice the wetness in his eyes until your hand brushes it away.

later, when grace is finally resting, fever breaking with a cool damp cloth and a lullaby that only you know how to hum right, simon stays by her crib. mask off. eyes open.

no guns. no enemies. just a man watching the smallest person he’s ever loved fight the first of life’s many battles.

he doesn’t flinch at gunfire.

but he’d rather take a bullet to the chest than watch his little girl suffer again.

a/n: making a series about simon being a dad !!! (probably a series of u meeting him too........ im down for it) (soon the masterlist)

something in common (COD Kinktober 2024)

AleRudy, SoapGhost. Size Queen + Car Sex. Lemon. Canon Era.

Soap groans, open-mouthed into the smooth leather of the car, damp with his spit. It catches on his nose, draws his lips upwards as Ghost pulls him back, onto his cock once more. No chance of catching his breath when the space in his chest is destroyed, the only sound he’s able to make a low whine.

Ale lets out a low whistle across from them and Soap forces his gaze up, tries to focus on the sharp hunger of his grin.

“Not bad, lift him a little, Ghost?”

Behind him, Ghost’s breathing doesn’t change, the roll of his hips unabated as he raises Soap upright, one hand on chest, the other a scorching brand on his hip, layered over the tattoo Soap has there. It’s a perfect match to the span of his fingers, the middle shortened to match the ring and fore; Soap had made the stencil himself after all.

“Ah, see that, Rudy, my love?” Alejandro leans down to murmur in Rudy’s ear, brushing his knuckles beneath the other man’s chin to lift it. “The bulge of Ghost’s cock in Soap’s belly?”

Rudy’s eyes are dark, his pupils blown wide and intent like he’s peeling away skin and muscle to inspect the exact dimensions. They make a good pair, something managing to claw through the haze of Soap‘s thoughts of charcoal and sweeping lines, enough negative space to highlight the intensity of Rudy’s gaze that isn’t softened by the flush over his cheeks. Alejandro tugs Rudy upright, a blurred reflection of the pose Soap has been lifted into, Rudy’s leg nudged into the footwell to broaden his stance and it takes Soap a moment to understand why.

Rudy’s hand is locked around Alejandro’s hold on his hip, Alejandro’s skin indented pale beneath the press of Rudy’s nails. There’s a similar bulge to the one in Soap’s belly, shifting as Alejandro rolls his hips but—

“Not bad,” Ghost murmurs, keeping Soap in place.

Rudy, getting fucked on the biggest cock Soap has ever seen and still very much in charge, catches Soap’s gaze and winks. 

Waste Disposal.

Wish you all a beautiful day with this lil sketch 💛

more seal soap, but this time he brought a friend 💀

i can't do this anymore! i mean i can, and i will, obviously. but i can't fucking do this anymore!

~Quick painting study I did recently - the man, the legend, the SAS scalpel - Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick ❤️‍🔥~

A quiet nights

yay!!!!

fanfiction isn’t enough, I need to chew on him