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hunterbunter3000 · 1 year

Note

Thinking about a fake dating scenario like say Sweets family is always bothering her about not dating anyone and she lies and says “actually I am seeing someone!” But then they ask to meet the person so now she has to find someone ti be her fake date. I would imagine the boys would be fighting each other for a chance to do that.

I know this is super random haha I’m just talking to talk at this point.

YES! AND RANDOM IS GOOD 👏👏 talk the talk and walk the walk babes! Any ideas you have SPEAK ON IT!!! 💓

But omg you're right, they would

Sweetheart walked in the living room, where the team was sitting on the couch drinking beers. She was talking on the phone as she walked past them to the kitchen, not even noticing the boys.

And she's talking to her mom about her love life. Saying "Yes ma! I will bring him this time!" And "You can tell Danni to shut the hell up cause he is real". And then she says love you and hangs up the phone.

Sweetheart, looking at everybody:

The boys looking at her:

Sweetheart: Okay who wants to be my boyfriend for the day

then they all say M E

And all hell breaks loose 💀💀

Soap: What tae FUCK do y'mean 'mE', Ghost?

Ghost: the fuck do YOU mean 'mEaH', Mactavish?

Soap: I SAID ME

Ghost: nah see-- you did it again. 'MeAh'. It's two letters.

Soap: AH WULL PUMPIN' BREAK YE YAH BRITISH CRUMPET

Sweetheart: uhm, guys?

Gaz: Bitch don't even try

Horangi: And why should I listen to you?

Gaz: You get a nose bleed everytime Sweets hugs you.

Horangi: WHAT?? HOW DO-- HOW CAN YOU EVEN SEE THAT I WEAR A MASK

Gaz: it drips under it, bruv. And I don't think her parents want to witness an extremely touched starved man get an aneurysm everytime their daughter touches him.

Sweetheart: GOOD LORD GAZ--

Horangi: OH YOU THINK YOU'RE SO MUCH BETTER? YOU CRY EVERYTIME SWEETHEART TELLS YOU A GOOD JOB

Gaz: YO I DO NOT-

Ghost: He cries when Capitan says it too.

Horangi: THAT TOO

Gaz: GHOST STAY THE FUCK OUT OF THIS

Price: You cry when I tell you good job?

Sweetheart, kinda touched but concerned: And you cry when I say it too?

Gaz: UHM- SIR I-- WELL SWEETS YOU-- FUCK

Krueger: Ignoring the emotionally unstable man--

Gaz: HEY

Krueger: You should take me, Kleine Göttin.

König: Don't, Sweets. You'll never return if you do

Krueger: König what the fuck

Krueger: You can't even talk your way into getting gas at a gas station, you think her parents want to see you freeze like a tortoise having sex when they talk to you?

König: AT LEAST I DONT SNIFF ANY SEATS SWEETHEART WAS IN

Krueger: THAT HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH THIS

König: IT HAS E V E R Y T H I N G TO DO WITH THIS

Sweetheart: Krueger-- YOU DO WHAT

Ghost: He also sniffs your hair

Sweetheart: You do that too, Ghost

Ghost, stares at Krueger: Not while you're sleeping.

Sweetheart: KRUEGER????

Krueger: GHOST SHUT THE FUCK U P

Alejandro: Please don't take Krueger, mama. He would end up in prison

Krueger: (angry German words)

Alejandro: You can take me! They'll love my charm.

Price: What, so you can flirt your way out of personal questions they'll most definitely ask you?

Ghost: Especially with that five-palm forehead you got

Alejandro: CÁLLATE LA BOCA DECORACIÓN DE HALLOWEEN

Rudy: Price, you have no say in this matter. You can practically be her father's golfing buddy.

Sweetheart: uhm, my dad doesn't golf--

Price: I'm 37 you fucking Muppet

Sweetheart: nevermind.

Rudy, surprised: Really?? Damn I didn't know that! You just looked like one of Super Mario's long lost cousins to me because of the janitor mustache you have on your old body

Price: Mother fucker--

Ghost: I don't think you would do well either when you look like a human gopher

Rudy: GHOST WHERE DO YOU KEEP COMING FROM

Alex: ROACH OW STOP HITTING MY FACE

Roach on Alex's shoulders:😠 pap-pap-pap-pap-pap-pap (like a fucking cat)

Sweetheart, rubbing her temples: Oh my fucking GOD- I'LL JUST CHOOSE MYSELF THIS IS TAKING TOO LONG AND GAZ LOOKS LIKE HES ABOUT TO CRY

Gaz, tearing up: I AM NOT

Soap: Me!

Horangi: It's me!

Graves, picking his nails:

Graves: It's probably not me.

Keegan: Uh... If it's no trouble, you can take me. I have to give your brother his game boy back anyway

Everyone looking at Keegan:

Soap: w u t

She takes Keegan.

(He honestly had a good time! Yes, he did start a fire with her siblings accidentally but other than that her parents loved him. Sweetheart sent pictures to everyone and omg they were so SALTY SAD AND JEALOUS. Ghost kinda smiled at a picture with Sweetheart and Keegan together, Keegan's face without the mask and grease paint wearing a nervous but kind smile. He looks happy. The others don't but they'll get over it someday💀💀)

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starl3ght · 1 year

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141 + more with a reader that sleeps a lot

A/N: I’m back from the dead, haha Melanie Martinez kinnie. I have a cousin that sleeps till 3 in the afternoon like wtf😨 I live for these men. They’re fine as fuckkkkkkk I loved making this

Requests are open and follow for more <333

Simon “Ghost” Riley

• He won’t be worried that much about you

• Maybe you’re just tired so he lets you do your own thing

• He respects you and what you just do around the house so he allows it

• But notices how you nap like every 3 hours a day and he gets concerned

• You just drop wherever. The couch, the living room floor, he found you outside in the grass one time.

• He throws a blanket over you each time and rubs his temple wondering what he’s gonna do with you

• “Love, you know this isn’t healthy right?”

• You had just woken up from your 4th nap.

• You look at him with your puppy eyes

• “But I’m tired”

• Don’t melt his heart, it makes him weak.

• “Trust me you’re gonna regret it, now up you go.”

• He’ll throw you over his shoulder and makes you do some random activities for you not to fall asleep.

John “Soap” Mactavish

• Might do the same thing but not much as you.

• He thinks it’s weird that you just close your eyes and stay dead for a few hours

• Might wake you up for fun

• He likes seeing you angry

• He sprayed you with the bottle one time. That wasn’t a good thing to do let’s just say.

• But seriously he is a bit concerned for you

• So when he walked into the literal, pitched black living room with the tv on and opened the blinds to the sunlight you hissed like some savage cat

• He only looks at you with a weird look

• “Jesus…alright, up and at em love.”

• You’ll just throw the blanket over your face again

• Ok, that’s how you wanna play it? He can play that game too

• He’ll grab your legs and drag you off the couch

• “No Johnny” you’re hugging a pillow against your face and he keeps dragging you “Not letting go that easy love. Now up.”

• He’ll pick you up putting your legs around his torso and your arms around his neck

• “We’re going out, dunno where but you’re done with your hobby for today bonnie”

• You went to Starbucks together( ˘ ³˘)♥

John Price

• Concerned as any parent would be

• Limits your sleeping time

• Has his alarm on his phone to wake you up

• “Love rise and shine, well technically it’s 4 in the afternoon so…”

• You’re still dead.

• He’ll stroke your face to wake you or just come back to existence💀

• Kisses your forehead and shakes your shoulder gently

• If you wake up he’s not letting you go back to sleep

• “You ready to stay up now love?”

• You violently shake your head no but he takes you to the living room so you can watch tv or read a book

• He needs you to be more active🤷‍♀️

• Might consider taking you to a doctor but tries to help you first

• Watches your sleeping habits well

• If it’s insomnia he’ll comfort you in his lap as you rant on about your sleeping issues

• He’ll make you sleep at the same time as him and takes you out to keep you busy or distracted.

Kyle “Gaz” Garrick

• Honestly it’s ok with him

• He just doesn’t like it when it happens for like a week straight

• 2-3 days is alright him because it’s a long tiring week so.

• When its 5 times every day he’s not allowing it

• Feels bad for waking you up

• “Baby?”

• You’re still in the world of dreams

• “Love, it’s time to wake up now”

• He uses that sweet soft voice you love so much

• But you won’t wake up

• He doesn’t know what to do that he might consider calling Price for help

• When you do wake up and look at him with your eyes with bags under his heart melts

• You must be having some issues

• He’ll make you sleep early so you’re ok for the next day

• He’ll take care of you, trust me

Alejandro Vargas

• Future husband mode activated

• Worries that waking you will get you angry

• But remembers it isn’t healthy

• So he uses your weaknesses to wake you up ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

• Mans kisses the crook of your neck and strokes your hair

• “Mi amor…wake up for me” That deep sweet voice he’s got for you

• You shift around in your sleep and open your eyes

• You just go to the bathroom and go back to the couch to sleep again

• He’s standing there frozen🧍

• “Ahora si, wake up mi vida.”

• He picks you up and that’s when you wake up

• You’ll slap his shoulder from anger

• “There we go…”

• He takes you to the bedroom and gives you a reason to be tired if you know what I mean🙂✨🌹

Rodolfo Parra

• AYYYY BABY😍😍😍😍

• He loves you too much

• He’s very worried for your health

• “Mi vida por favor, wake up.”

• You just won’t budge

• Worries a bit much now

• Like what if you’re staying up all night and he hasn’t noticed and so you sleep all day

• But that if that wasn’t the issue he would calm down

• You just sleep…like a lot

• Considers giving you melatonin for the night and taking you out the next day to have your energy

• He always gently touches you and when you wake he’ll give you something to eat

• He’s literally like a parent having to take care of you

• Will help you with your habits

König

• Won’t wake you up

• He’s scared

• Like what if you’re so peaceful and he upsets you from waking you up

• But reminds himself this is for your own good

•If you fall asleep on him then may he rest in piece.

• He’s not getting you off of him anytime soon and not easily

• Will nudge you shoulder hoping you open your eyes

• “Schatz??”

•You’re still sleeping. Are you even breathing??

• “Please wake up” oh now his voice is anxious

• “König what are you doing, it’s 8 in the morning”

• Wtf is wrong with you👁👄👁

• “Umm, meine liebe it’s 2 in the afternoon actually…”

• You reach out your arms like a baby wanting to be picked up

• So he does

• Picks you up gently as if you were the most fragile thing

• “Geliebte I think we should talk about your habits my dear.”

Alex Keller

• This mf let’s you do whatever you want

• He only gets curious when you’re in random places napping

• That’s when he realized it’s weird that you sleep a lot

• “Baby, you should’ve been awake 3 hours ago. It’s already 9 pm ”

• He’s literally standing in the living room and you’re on the carpet floor with a blanket over you

• Bro reaches for the blanket and throws it across the room and you wake up whining

• “Alex stop, let me sleep.”

• He gives you an almost offended look

• “It’s already been 5 years, it’s time for you to rise. Now go eat something”

• Drags you to the kitchen and makes you eat

• Now when it’s time for bed you don’t wanna sleep

• He’ll make you either way and holds you to his chest so you can’t escape

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chxrrylime · 1 year

Note

Ahh could a request a part 2 to the oral fixation request but with Alejandro and Alex? (Sub! M reader)

Happy fucking easter, you mad lads. Here's PART II to the oral fixation prompt ♥ I really like doing these types of things over fics so feel free to send some more with that in mind!! But I will totally still write fics of course, they'll just take longer.

↪ 2132 words — 18+ / SMUT.

Content tags — gen male submissive reader, oral fixation, finger sucking, public embarrassment, light degradation, mild face fucking, and cock warming.

Soap

Soap definitely has an oral fixation, too. The two of you kissing is always downright sinful. Very filthy. Too much spit and sucking and licking to really be considered kissing.

But oh, how he loves to tease you with it. Does it on purpose, the bloody bastard, makes you red faced in front of the whole task force with what Ghost might call revolting romantic displays (the man hates PDA. Unfortunately, Soap is a walking case of it, especially when it comes to you).

The easiest way he always gets you is generally in the cafeteria. On rare occasions they get good food—shit like little bowls of vanilla ice cream with a cherry on top. Something sweet like that. You can bet your ass Soap’s either grabbing your attention only to tongue at that cherry for far too long before sucking it off the stem, holding eye contact the whole time, or he’s pressing it to your lips just to watch you instinctively lick it into your mouth and suckle before flushing bright when you realize half the table’s staring at you.

He can also definitely tie cherry stems with his tongue, but that’s another story.

He does it with other foods, too. Really, the man’s pupils blow wide every time he hand feeds you something and you take it into your mouth without a second thought. Sometimes he wonders if it’s because it’s him doing it, or if you’d do that for anyone, mindlessly taking anything into your mouth that gets a little too close.

He’s proper annoyed when he can’t get any of the 141 to try and hand feed you, just to test his theory.

But oh, Soap loves getting head just as much as he loves giving it, and steamin’ Jesus does he get weak in the knees from your mouth on him.

The man swears he’s never had a better blowjob in his life, and you might just believe him with how he moans and groans, squirming and humping into your mouth—really just being an all-around nuisance.

But he’s obsessed with how attentive you are about it. How intense. How you pay such close attention to his sensitive tip, the thick vein on the side, the little glands under the ridge. How you suck him like you’re suckling for milk—his words, specifically. The man called you a calf on a teet. You’d cuffed him in the back of the head for it.

And you can bet your ass his favorite position with you is sixty-nining. The both of you get so goddamn blissed out, so focused on sucking each other down, getting off from both the hot wetness around your lengths and the haziness of that headspace. That fuzzy little place you go, mind half blank when you can settle into suckling something.

Soap always likes to try and get you to go two rounds just so he can swallow one load down and let the other paint his face.

Alex

Alex was a bit… confused.

Listen, the man’s done some exploring sexually, okay? He’s not a complete prude. He’s not vanilla. He likes to get tied up sometimes and maybe slapped around a little. Likes tying other people up, too. He thinks a girl might’ve called him daddy once and he came pretty quickly afterward. He’s been around a bit, is the point.

He’s just… y’know… never seen someone look so damn blissful with something in their mouth before.

If anything, most of the gals he’s been with have either seen blowjobs as a means to an end or outright refused to perform them. He didn’t mind, of course, but it kind of set a precedent for him.

But then he’d kissed you that one time and when he’d pulled back he’d swiped his thumb along your kiss-swollen bottom lip, and before he could move it away you’d sucked it into your mouth and moaned. Eyes rolling slightly before fluttering shut.

His cheeks were burning, and honestly, his dick was probably twice as hard as it previously was, if that was even possible. You’d suckled and licked at his thumb like it was a cock, your head slightly bobbing, and he was gone for it.

He’s not generally a rough lover, and he maybe wasn’t the most proud of the bruises he saw on your knees the next day, but fuck, he’s never needed his dick in someone’s mouth so goddamn bad before.

Shoved you down by the shoulders. Listened to your stressed little whine when it meant his finger left your mouth—was quick to replace it with the tip of his cock, considerate as ever.

He couldn’t help the quiver in his thighs when you hummed contentedly around the squishy head, hollowing your cheeks as you sucked and tongued at the weeping slit. Christ, he was dripping so much. It wasn’t something super abnormal for him, he was quite the leaky faucet, honestly, but not usually this early on.

He’s definitely the praise type, and it just makes your head that much more fuzzy, hearing that pretty strained voice above you as you swallow him down to the hilt, the muscles of your throat squeezing around him so deliciously.

“So fucking good, baby, mouth’s so hot, so tight. Fuck. You’re so good at this.”

He rarely will fully outright fuck your face unless you ask him to, but he will always lazily roll his hips as you blow him. Gentle, shallow little movements that move him about half an inch deeper before pulling back, again and again. Loves how you chase after his cock each time he pulls out—does it just to see it.

It's not something he can always afford, but he’s a romantic at heart, and honestly his favorite position isn’t particularly sexual, more so intimate. He likes letting you cock warm him with your mouth while you both sleep, while you both lay in bed. Likes waking up to it, too, if you decided not to the night before but woke up needy. He gets hard, sure, and leaks, but it’s not really about finishing for him. He pets through your hair and hums. Whispers little praise or groans quietly when you suck particularly hard.

He just likes the intimacy. The warmth. He's naturally a caretaker, and likes that he can do something for you to make you feel safe and good, especially if that's something you struggle to do for yourself.

Alejandro

Alejandro is a goddamn menace.

He notices you licking at and sucking on one of your knuckles one time? Good fucking luck. He goes full detective on you.

He ends up buying you a necklace with a rubber charm on the end. Maybe a little skull or something. Something unassuming—not too stim toy-esque. It was a genuine present, saw it and thought of you, it just so happened to double as the thing to confirm his suspicion.

He walks by a secluded desk you're sitting at, filing paperwork and catches you sucking on that charm? Oh, he’s fully leaning over you, arm placed on the desk to cage you in. Wolfish grin when you look up surprised, a little wide-eyed with a murmured and confused ‘Alejandro?’

The charm’s still in your mouth, your words a bit muffled and slurred because of it. You don’t let it go until he swipes his finger over your lips, tapping at the chain. You flush bright red when you realize what you’d been doing and you swear his eyes darken.

“Enjoy things in your mouth, pretty boy?”

Oh, he’s got you bent over that desk not but five minutes later, one hand stretching you open on his fingers, prepping you for his cock, and the other hand pressed against your mouth, making you gag on his fingers. Thrusts them in opposite time of each other, just to make you that much more fucked out.

Despite how much he loves to tease you, softly degrading you with hushed, raspy “dirty little thing”’s, and “puta sucia”’s he’s very, very supportive if it doubles as a stim thing for you.

Necklaces with little rubber charms become a common gift to receive from him. Some are more obvious for when you’re alone, clearly meant for stimming, shaped nicely for suckling and chewing if you so desire. Others are simply cute little shapes—stars and eight balls and significant numbers. Things you can pass off as simple keepsakes from Alejandro if asked.

The man will buy you a goddamn sippy cup if you so desire. He’s good at hiding things if needed and he just wants you to have your simple comforts to come back to after long, hard missions.

He loves making out with you. Encourages you to suck on his tongue, his lips. Leave him all kiss-swollen and red. Guides you by the hair to suck bruises into his neck, his shoulders—anywhere on his body is truly free real estate for your marks.

Big surprise that he likes his dick sucked! But in particular he likes a lot of attention on his balls and taint. Strokes himself and tells you to kiss ‘em, make out with ‘em. He’s very sensitive there, and he makes such sweet sounds when you do. He always grooms, of course, but he’ll fully shave if that’s something you want from him.

König

Oh, König. My dear boy. I think he has an oral fixation as well, but specifically chewing. It’s more of just a stim for him, not really a sexy thing. Helps with his anxiety. Helps with the mask since no one can see if he’s got something he’s nibbling on, whether it’s gum or a necklace or whatever. He’s definitely a teeth grinder, too, so it helps to have something between his pearly whites to keep them from chipping or filing down against each other.

But it also means he understands when he sees you with your pen absentmindedly between your lips, or when you suck on your spoon long after you’ve chewed and swallowed your food. Or, at least, he thinks he understands.

Relationships are a bit hard for him. He feels a lot. And it’s a bit overwhelming, especially all the touchy, intimate parts of being with someone. So, it’s a slow process, getting him warmed up to you.

Eventually things get hot and heavy between you two, and your straddling his narrow hips (narrow for his frame, but still fucking big), his hood pushed up just enough for the two of you to make out. His large hands rub up and down your sides, and you gently rock your hips to grind your hardon against the hard planes of his shirt-clad stomach.

When you pull away from the kiss, there’s drool dripping down your chin, and for whatever reason, König instinctively reaches to swipe it up with his fingers, up and up until he’s pushing it back into your mouth, the two thick digits pressing onto your tongue as he essentially finger fucks your own saliva back into your mouth.

Except, the whole scene catches up with him, and he startles, embarrassed, about to pull his hand away and begin to intensely apologize when you suddenly grab his wrist, holding him in place, looking down at him with half-lidded, lust-blown eyes as you seal your lips around the digits and start to suck.

Oh, he lets out the most strangled, confused and yet aroused moan. He’s wide-eyed behind the hood, his own lips parted as he pants. His cock is so fucking hard in his far too tight pants.

He very quickly learns that he gets off on you sucking on his fingers as much as you do in turn.

Honestly? He prefers your mouth on his fingers over his cock. Loves to fuck into you slow and steady with three of his fingers stretching your jaw wide, fucking your mouth with them at the same pace as his rocking hips. Plus, the man’s almost as thick as a soda can. You can most likely get your lips around the tip, which he enjoys immensely, but he worries too much he’ll literally break your jaw if you go any further than that, so he never lets you.

You truly unlock something dark in König with your little fixation, though. He buys you a gag—one with a very small dildo mold on the inside, something for you to suckle on as he fucks you. He shyly admits afterward that it’s the first sex toy he’s ever bought and he had to (very reluctantly) ask Soap where he can even get them from. And then of course Soap insisted on tagging along to said adult store. You can’t help but laugh about it while König slaps at your arms and lightheartedly tells you to shut up.

#modern warefare 2 #modern warfare #soap x reader #konig x reader #alex keller x reader #alex x reader #alejandro x reader #mine #smut #alejandro vargas #john soap mactavish #alex keller #konig x male reader #soap x male reader #alex keller x male reader #alejandro vargas x male reader

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moonlight-sonata99 · 4 months

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We need more alex kellers x reader and alejandro vargas x readers please I'll literally pay yall-

Not really I'm broke asf but yall get me😭

#alex keller x reader #alejandro vargas x reader #alejandro vargas #alex keller #modern warefare ii

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heranubis · 3 months

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LAST HOUSE IN THE BAYOU: Infernal Alex Keller mini-series (master post) chapters utc

SERIES DESCRIPTION: naturally, upon being gifted a house by a long-since dead relative you're not even sure you're related to, you decide to flip and sell. you have no need for a house this far out, surrounded by swamp water and weeds and who knows what else lurking in the brackish water. but what they don't tell you about is what's lurking behind hard-loved wood and kept at bay by a promise made generations ago.

COMPLETION STATUS: ongoing

INSTALLMENTS:

I. CREEPING CHARLIE

II. PURPLE LOOSESTRIFE

III. FIREWEED

IV. BONESET

V. HEAL-ALL

ART CREDITS: alex keller render ◇ 1781 The Nightmare, Henry Fuseli

SERIES PLAYLIST: LAST HOUSE IN THE BAYOU

#heranubis #call of duty #alex keller x reader #series masterlist #modern warefare 2

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twistedbloodstain · 2 years

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welcome to the bloodstained vinyl house! listen and enjoy the tracks below and if you have a request, click here ➡️ track factory

requests : open

note : i don’t have anything disturbing and if i did, i will notify. as of now, choose any track to twist through the depths of your head.

𝗵𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗰𝗮𝗻𝗼𝗻𝘀 ฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅ

echo 3-1 / alex x reader : all’s well that ends well to end up with you

- fluffy relationship headcanons with the glorious mustache man.

captain price x reader : november flush

- the one where the hot headed captain goes to a bakery.

sergeant kyle “gaz” garrick x reader : waves meeting your shore, ever and evermore

- the one where kyle meets the sweet librarian in the town library.

frank woods x reader : are there still beautiful things?

- the one where frank woods becomes a daddy.

frank woods x reader : putting roots in my dream land

- the one where frank woods deals with toddler antics.

kate laswell x oc!victoria young : what if i told you none of it was accidental and the first night that you saw me nothing was gonna stop me?

- the one where the watcher meets her match.

simon riley x reader: i try to capture every minute the feeling in it.

- the one where simon sees himself again.

𝗷𝗼𝗵𝗻 𝘄𝗶𝗰𝗸 (𝗳𝗿𝗮𝗻𝗰𝗵𝗶𝘀𝗲) 𝗵𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗰𝗮𝗻𝗼𝗻𝘀 ٩(ᐛ)

𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐬 𝐝𝐞 𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐭 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫: 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐭𝐨𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐡 𝐚𝐧 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐠𝐥𝐨𝐰

－ 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒐𝒏𝒆 𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒒𝒖𝒊𝒔 𝒊𝒔 𝒃𝒓𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉𝒕 𝒕𝒐 𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒌𝒏𝒆𝒆𝒔.

track one: to be loved is to be changed. | a glimpse of the world working for the marquis.

track two: because i dropped your hand while dancing left you out there standing. | the marquis catches a glimpse through you.

track 3: if my wishes came true it would’ve been you. | a glimpse of the marquis

track 4: i made you my temple, my mural, my sky now I'm begging for footnotes in the story of your life | the marquis wants more of what meets the eye.

track five: with you, i serve. with you, i fall down. | a seal of fate

𝗲𝘅𝘁𝗿𝗮𝘀:

sometimes we want people we can’t have. (teaser)

aftermath: i breathe flames each time i talk | love’s not supposed to be easy.

𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐬 𝐝𝐞 𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐭 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫: 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐬𝐥𝐢𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐞𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐲 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐬

— 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒐𝒏𝒆 𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒉𝒆 𝒅𝒐𝒆𝒔𝒏’𝒕 𝒎𝒂𝒌𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒂𝒎𝒆 𝒎𝒊𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒌𝒆 𝒕𝒘𝒊𝒄𝒆.

track 1: i’d live and die for moments that we stole | words and wind.

track 2: you had a speech, you're speechless | the calm before the storm.

𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐬 𝐝𝐞 𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐭 𝐱 𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐡𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫: 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐞, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐢𝐭’𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫

— 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒐𝒏𝒆 𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒔𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒐𝒏𝒆 𝒉𝒆 𝒏𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉𝒕 𝒘𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 𝒃𝒆.

track 1: spring breaks loose, but so does fear | sweetness and bitterness within

𝗼𝗻𝗲𝘀𝗵𝗼𝘁𝘀:

𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐝𝐞 𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐭 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫: 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐢 𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐝𝐬. | 𝐢 𝐬𝐦𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐢 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮.

𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐝𝐞 𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐭 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫: i could never give you peace | what’s meant to be is supposed to be

marquis 𝘁𝗵𝗼𝘂𝗴𝗵𝘁𝘀 ~(>_<~)

about the marquis

keith toshko

keith toshko x reader: and you feel like home. | what’s love for us?

𝗰𝗮𝗹𝗹 𝗼𝗳 𝗱𝘂𝘁𝘆 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗿𝘀𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗼𝘂𝗴𝗵𝘁𝘀 ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ

comrade bell’s hot girl shit

nikolai does the john wick takedown on the butcher

need to know 🤝 frank woods

a dilf left us in 1983

weaver sneak in s1 cinematic

codm loading screen

frank woods laos thirst

alex mason’s music taste

my favorite kind of bell fics

bell’s theme

nsfw audio of hudson (still waiting)

daddy frank woods

perseus trio crack post

dead wife?

kmm? hudson

who’s your daddy??

𝗷𝗼𝗲𝗹 𝘁𝗵𝗿𝗶𝘀𝘁 | (• ◡•)|

joel’s physique

dilf joel.

𝗽𝘀𝗲𝘂𝗱𝗼𝗻𝘆𝗺𝗼𝘂𝘀 𝗽𝗲𝗼𝗽𝗹𝗲 ಠ_ಠ

pseudonym x pseudonym : salt air

- clandestine meetings and planned destined meetings.

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hunterbunter3000 · 1 year

Text

141 Sweetheart, bursting through the door: OH MY G O S H YOU WON'T BELIEVE WHAT HAPPENED TODAY--

141 Sweetheart pacing back and forth, ignoring the fact that she walked in the men's locker room with tf 141 shirtless:

Ghost: ...Love.

141 Sweetheart still talking and pacing:

Price: Sweetheart.

141 Sweetheart: AND THEN HE-- huh

Soap, smirking: We're changin' 'ere, St.

141 Sweetheart:

141 Sweetheart, backing up: Oh.

141 Sweetheart, slowly closing the door: Sorry.

(Everyone knowing she's still there)

141 Sweetheart, opening the door again: Nice assets by the way-

Price: Sweetheart!

141 Sweetheart: SORRY

#modern warefare 2 x reader #black fem reader #cod incorrect quotes #cod x y/n #cod oc #modern warfare x reader #john price x reader #ghost x reader #soap x reader #konig x reader #roach x reader #horangi x reader #alex keller x reader #gaz x reader #black!reader #x reader #x female reader #141 sweetheart

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chxrrylime · 9 months

Text

❝ float on. ❞

Sorry I died again. Here's this.

Price x Alex x M!Reader ↪ 1626 words — 18+ / SMUT.

Content tags — cis male submissive Price, cis male dominant reader, cis male dominant Alex, first time subspace, unsafe sex, oral sex, rimming, anal sex, begging, handjobs, fingering, facefucking, crying, blindfolds, and undernegotiated kink.

Price is sat on the edge of the small bed, shoulders slouched, elbows on his knees and head hung low. He feels light and heavy all at once, body weighted down by the eternal ache in his muscles, head floating up above the clouds like static focus.

He’s foggy, letting himself drift as he listens to the sounds of his partners moving about the room, cleaning up his messes—you were always cleaning up after him.

Not twenty minutes ago you’d urged him out of what gear hadn’t been returned to the armory, guiding him into the shower and scrubbing him clean. Washing away the dirt and dried blood. Clipping his fingernails, scrubbing the grime that remained from beneath them. Trimming his knotted and overgrown beard back to its presentable shape.

It wasn’t often he got like this. Loose, and pliant. It was something you’d tried to explain to him in the past, that hazy feeling. He might’ve laughed at you then. He doesn’t remember.

When he opens his tired eyes, it’s in response to the gentle hand he feels settle on the back of his neck, lightly scratching the strands there, making his skin buzz. His gaze settles hazily on the strip of black cloth in your other hand, eyes squinting in speculation.

There’s another hand on his knee, giving a light squeeze.

“How’re we doing?” Alex asks, voice quiet, like anything louder might pierce the static waves bouncing around Price’s mind.

“Mm, dunno,” Price murmurs, humming contentedly as you nuzzle beneath his chin. He bares his throat to give you better access, head lulling back as you begin to kiss and suck at the sensitive skin of his neck, “pent up…”

“Yeah?” you whisper.

You glance down to watch Alex’s hand slide up Price’s thigh, slipping over the half-hard bulge, massaging the Captain through his sweats and earning a hearty groan.

“Alex—” Price moans softly, silenced by the blonds lips, a slow and hungry wet kiss as Price gently rolls his hips up into Alex’s strong hand.

“Let us take care of you,” you say against his skin, trailing kisses down his neck, over his collarbones, lapping teasingly at his nipple before taking the pert bud into your mouth, suckling, admiring the choked noise Price makes, his chest jutting out against the stimulation.

Price fumbles for the back of your head, fingers tangling in your hair as he tugs you up for a kiss, panting and licking greedily into your mouth.

When you pull back, you hold up the blindfold, Price lazily locking eyes on it with furrowed brows.

“Trust us?” You ask, cupping his cheek with your free hand. Alex has moved his hand back to Price’s thigh, giving him space to think. Price’s eyelids flutter, swallowing thickly before he gives a shaky nod.

“Y-yeah,” he says, and then again, firmer, “yeah, alright.”

You’re gentle tying the fabric, only pulling it taut to make sure it sits snug. You notice out of the corner of your eye how Price’s hand scrambles to settle over Alex’s, squeezing his fingers as his vision’s taken from him. Alex upturns his palm, squeezing back.

“Gonna undress you, then get you laid back, alright?”

“Keep yer hands on me,” Price whispers, so faint you almost don’t hear it, “don’ go quiet.”

“Anything, baby,” you smile, even though he can’t see it.

You and Alex both carefully undress Price, sliding off his sweats and boxers, then slowly maneuver him back onto the bed, passively narrating each step as you go, making sure Price’s head is propped up properly, another pillow shoved under his lower back.

“Fuck,” Price breathes out, fingers clenching in the bedsheets as you all finally settle, you between his spread legs, thumbs rubbing circles on each of his narrow hips, and Alex kneeling to Price’s left, up by his head.

“Alright?”

“I…” Price begins, voice raspy. He swallows again, before giving a slight nod. He realizes only moments later you and Alex are waiting for him to say more, “never… felt like this.”

“Too much?” Alex asks, running his fingers through Price’s hair, still slightly damp from the shower.

“S’a lot,” he responds honestly, “but I’m… I’m good. Feel… outta body.”

“Still wanna play?” You hum, spreading your fingers over his meaty thighs to squeeze the supple flesh.

“Fuck, yeah,” he groans, and you smirk at the slight twitch his cock gives as your nails rake through his pubes.

You make brief eye contact with Alex, who gives you a slight nod.

You waste little time, letting spit pool on your tongue before letting it dribble down onto Price’s cock, slicking the hot flesh as you take him in hand, lowering onto your stomach. Alex takes Price’s legs, holding him by the ankles to give you better access, making Price jolt and moan as he’s spread open for your tongue, lapping greedily at his furled rim.

You spear your tongue into his hole, stretching him around the wet muscle, occasionally moving up to suckle at his taint or nose at his balls, feeling how his thick cock pulses and twitches in your hand on each tightened upstroke.

Alex lowers Price’s legs back down, his calves coming to rest on your shoulders as you shuffle back up. Price makes a noise dangerously akin to a whimper at the loss of your hand on his prick, the sound muffled by Alex’s lips as he leans down to tongue fuck his mouth.

You dribble lube onto your fingers, rubbing them together to heat the cool gel before pressing two digits into his tight ass. Alex swallows down Price’s moan, one hand gripped in the short cropped hair while the other holds Price’s jaw tight.

Price’s own hands scrabble, unable to see and unsure entirely what he’s reaching for, alternating from the sheets to the pillows to Alex’s thighs and arms and head.

You watch how Price’s hole sucks your fingers in, winking greedily around the digits, your focus only shifting when you hear a hiccup, looking up suddenly to see tears streaking from beneath the blindfold, dampening the already dark fabric as they trail down and get trapped in his beard.

Alex has paused his assault, meer inches from Price’s face as the tight grip in the Captain’s hair turns to soft petting.

Alex coos, shushing Price, kissing the older man’s cheekbones.

“Please,” Price chokes, his thighs shaking as he rocks down onto your fingers. His cock is swollen and angry red, leaking precum like a broken faucet, flexing and twitching against his furry tummy, “please.”

“You look so pretty, baby,” you praise, removing your fingers to trail your lube slicked hand up to ever so slowly stroke his cock, “so beautiful.”

Price lets out a sob as your cock finally breaches him, pushing into the tight, wet depths of his gummy walls. His legs wrap tight around your waist, ankles locked together as he all but pulls you deeper into him with a desperate cry.

When you look up Alex has his cock out, his own sweats and boxers pushed beneath his balls just enough to free his aching erection. He gives himself a few quick strokes before gripping the base, his free hand guiding Price by his hair until the sticky tip brushes Price’s saliva and tear slick lips.

Price gives a tentative lick and then moans, opening his mouth eagerly at the familiar bittersweet taste of precum. Alex curses under his breath, dropping his chin to his chest as he stiltedly thrusts his hips into the wet heat of Price’s mouth.

Price reaches out blindly, slapping at Alex’s sides until he finds the blond’s hips, tugging at him until Alex moves to straddle the Captain’s face. You groan at the site, pumping your cock faster into Price’s welcoming hole.

You can hear the slick sounds of Price’s mouth working around Alex’s girth, the wet gags each time Alex bullies his prick into Price’s eager throat. Price’s hands grasp Alex’s ass, squeezing the muscular globes, nails digging into the flesh to leave behind red crescent-shaped indents.

You grip Price’s slender hips bruisingly tight, pounding into him as hard as you can, the movements jostling both Price and the bed, pounding the frame against the wall as your balls slap against Price’s ass, the lude, wet sound of skin on skin reverberating alongside Price’s muffled, increasingly desperate moans.

You close your eyes, barely able to hear Alex’s murmured praises as he continues his assault on Price’s throat.

And then a soft, growling groan from the blond as his hips stutter forward, emptying his potent load into Price’s mouth.

It’s Price’s cock kicking hard before he shoots thick white streaks all over his stomach that has you shouting out, burying to the hilt as you fill Price’s ass—Price, who just came untouched from having his throat cum in.

Alex unmounts, giving Price a moment to catch his breath before he's pressing a water bottle to Price’s lips, gently urging him to drink, which he does so in big, greedy gulps.

His hole flutters and spasms around your softening cock, making you groan as you slowly slip free, your cum dribbling out soon after, staining the crisp bed sheets.

You crawl up the bed as Alex caps the bottle and sets it on the nightstand, the both of you on either side of Price, pressed up against his sides as he comes down. You run a finger over the hem of the blindfold and Price’s hand gently catches your wrist.

“Want it on?” You ask, using your thumb to wipe away the tear trails as Price gives a shaky nod, turning to nuzzle his head against your neck, reaching blindly for Alex’s hand to pull the blond’s arm over his torso.

#smut #mine #top male reader #modern warfare #price x reader #modern warefare 2 #captain john price #captain price #alex x reader #alex keller x reader #alex keller #alex x price #price x alex

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chxrrylime · 1 year

Text

❝ prompt: sex pollen. ❞

OKAY I’m up way too late so I’ll proof read this tomorrow. Enjoy!

Alex Keller x M!Reader ↪ 3995 words — 18+ / SMUT

Content tags — cis male submissive Alex, cis male dominant reader, dub-c0n, inaccurate science and military garbage, sex pollen / aphrodisiacs, drugging, referenced / implied pegging, prostate stimulation, oral sex, praise, unsafe sex, fingering, penetrative sex, anal sex, and implied / referenced date r*pe drug targeting women because I don’t know how to tag that but thought it could be upsetting.

Key — C/S for callsign, Y/N for insert name.

You fall in step behind Alex, rifle down but poised. The hallways are sterile and ominously silent, nothing but your footsteps and the soft buzzing of the bright white lights echoing down the corridor.

You’d met resistance earlier on in the lab, but past the airlock Alex had busted open you’d found no signs of life—which was damning, considering you were both here for information, having yet to find a shred of paperwork or even a damned filing cabinet that wasn’t empty.

The two of you didn’t have to say it to know you were both thinking it—this was either a trap or a waste of time. They’d probably somehow caught wind of the raid and cleaned up shop, evacuated the scientists. There was nothing here.

But Laswell would have your heads if you abandoned op without searching the entire laboratory, so here you were, waiting for Alex’s signal as he inched his gun past the corner of the door frame to scan the room before waving you on past him.

You raise your gun as you sweep the room one more time. There’s a lab counter against the wall with canisters atop them, each set into their own metal holder. You don’t see any wording on them, just pink paint around the middle of each canister.

On the opposite wall is a desktop that you make your way over to.

You leaned down to peek at the computer case, finding it intact unlike all of the others you’d seen so far, dismantled with all of the important information bits missing.

“Got something,” you called out to Alex.

You booted the PC up, propping your gun up against the desk as you sat down in the rolling chair. Alex came up behind you, leaning, inked arm over your shoulder to support himself on the desk as he watched you search through the computer’s files.

“I don’t know what any of these are,” you mumble, scrolling through a plethora of scientific looking names.

“Chemicals,” Alex responds gruffly, and you tsk.

“Well, yeah, thanks. But what’re any of them? There’s a shit ton.”

Alex lets his gun go slack on the strap, reaching to point at one of the lines of text, the one that reads bis(2-chloroethyl) sulfide.

“Mustard gas.”

“Christ,” you sigh out, “do you know the others?”

“Nope,” he admits, squinting at the screen, “not for us to know, though. Let's just get this back to Laswell, alright?”

You frown, scrolling a bit further down. Your eye catches on a specific file, far less complicated looking than the others.

Bufotenin aphrodisias.

You glance over to Alex, who’s busy jimmying the lock on a filing cabinet, and then look back to the computer.

“Alex, do you know what bufotenin is?”

“Toad venom, psychoactive in concentration,” he mumbles, and then looks over to you, “are you still…? We need to get—”

You click on the file.

The screen goes black and you startle, watching the faint lights of it’s machinery blank out one by one.

“Shit.”

“What did you—!?” Alex begins, cut off as you both hear the loud, droning beep of the metal door locking shut, the light on the keypad turning red.

You both look at each other just as the lights go out, the dull crimson of the emergency lights basking you in an ominous glow.

And then you hear the hissing.

Alex turns around, toward the sound just as the canisters seem to pop, a cloud of pink mist blasting into his face. He watched wide-eyed as he instinctively gasps in a big breath, too late as he inhales whatever the hell it is, before turning away coughing. The gas slowly starts to leak out onto the floor, toward you.

You back away, pressing your forearm over your mouth and against your nostrils like that’ll do you any good.

Alex hasn’t fallen dead on the floor yet, which you pray is a good sign, especially considering how particularly vulnerable he is to chemical weapons after the whole situation at the Highway of Death.

He looks up to you wide-eyed, and scrambles towards you, the hand not trying to cover his face tugging at his utility belt. He yanks his gas mask loose and grabs you, shoving it over your head.

“Alex, what’re you—” you gasp out, feeling him seal it as you take a deep, stuttering breath of stale air.

The mist overtakes the room slowly, and Alex just stands in front of you, holding your wrists in fear you’ll try and pull the mask off—try and play heroics to spare him or something.

Except, you know better. Alex has already breathed in an ungodly amount, a mask wouldn’t do him much good now.

You try and shift, to move and look around the room—for a way out, but Alex’s hands remain tight around your wrists, and he yanks you back in front of him when you step away.

“Alex,” you hiss, tugging against him again.

His pupils are blown wide, and you can see how much he’s sweating, taking in big gulping breaths—panting. Definitely not something one would usually do in a room filled to the brim in possibly deadly gas.

He blinks a few times, though, releasing you to wipe the sweat from his brow.

“S-sorry, I—I checked out for a second,” he says meekly.

“What’re your symptoms, Alex?”

“Shit,” he breathes, cringing at the wetness of his mustache, the sweat collecting at his upper lip, bitter, “uh, fever. Definitely. Lungs kind of burn. That’s expected. Heart’s beating pretty fast, maybe just adrenaline.”

“Strong maybe.”

“Yeah. Yeah, uh…” he trails off, his breath stuttering, pink tongue peeking out to lick at his chapped lips.

You frown, pressing a hand to his forehead. You startle slightly when he immediately reaches up to grab your forearm, holding you in place with a gentle squeeze. He’s burning up, skin slick and searing.

“You’re not gonna die on me, right?”

Alex barks a laugh, short and a bit choked, but a laugh, and you can’t help the small, sad smile you give.

“Let’s find a way out of here first, yeah?” He says, and his voice is noticeably gravellier. He doesn’t let go of your arm for a long moment, however, not until you give a slight tug. He frowns and releases you with another murmured, “sorry.”

You head over to the door, digging for the keycard you pulled off one of the hired guns earlier. The little screen beeps at you when you swipe it, flashing red, and you huff, trying it a few more times only to be met with the same ACCESS DENIED.

“Key cards no-go. Low clearance,” you grunt, tossing it onto the floor.

“Computer’s dead,” Alex responds, fucking with the PC case before giving it a hard punch.

“Woah, woah, hey,” you call, taking a few steps toward him. He’s hunched over under the desk, and you can’t see his face, but you can see how his shoulders rise and fall with heaving breaths, “still need that hard drive in tact, Alex, right? Remember?”

You feel like you’re talking to a child, or a wild dog, morelike. But he’s off-kilter. Out of it. You can tell how he’s trying to maintain his hold, though, as he gives a frustrated sigh and turns to stand with yet another “right, sorry.”

“I’m gonna try and call this in,” you explain, “hopefully we can get a signal. Get some backup out here.”

He nods, but he doesn’t really seem to be listening as he scans the room, blinking with purpose like he’s trying to keep his vision clear. You watch as you fidget with the radio, finally getting a barely clear line into Laswell as Alex seems to spot something across the room.

“Watcher-1, how copy?”

“Getting a lot of static, C/S, but I can make you out. Send traffic.”

“Building should be cleared but, uh, we ran into a bit of an… issue.”

You get a burst of static and wince, barely making out the go on, C/S.

“Found a computer. Hard drives should be intact but possibly wiped. There must’ve been a trap or something in the system. Locked us in one of the lab rooms here and gassed us.”

“What’s your condition?”

You watch Alex across the room pull some kind of lever, something akin to a fire alarm on the wall, and hear a loud metal thunk as some of the slatted vents along the ceiling open, hissing following, though this time like air being sucked out. You slowly watch the pink mist in the room dissipate, the air units kicking on to hopefully begin filtering in fresh oxygen.

“C/S? Do you copy?”

“Yeah, yes, ma’am. I’m alright. Got a mask on, and looks like Alex just got the air filter up and running, but he took a blast of it. We don’t know what it was, but he’s conscious at the moment. No visible damage externally. He’s running a bad fever.”

“Understood. Captain Price and his boys are still wrapping up at the other facility. I’ll have them head to you, ETA two hours. Do we think Alex can make it that long?”

You look up at Alex, who’s leaning heavily against the wall, but he gives you a slow thumbs up.

“Affirmative. I’ll call if that changes.”

“Copy. Out.”

You switch the line off, pulling off the gas mask as you watch the last bits of pink gas suck up through the air vents, the system chugging for a few seconds before Alex flips the switch again and the slats slam shut.

He pushes slightly off the wall, mouth working like he’s about to try and speak before he collapses, toppling onto the ground with a grunt. You rush over to him, rolling him onto his back. He groans long and deep, arm thrown over his eyes and his other gloved hand pressed against his mouth.

“Hey, hey, Alex, talk to me,” you rush out, grabbing his shoulders and giving him a little shake. His hand moves from his mouth to grab your wrist, squeezing at you like he’s trying to ground himself.

“New symptom,” he grits out.

“Fainting?”

He chokes out what you could barely consider a laugh, making you wince as he slightly squirms in place.

“Southern blood flow,” he grins, though it seems forced, or maybe spiteful.

Your brow furrows, and it takes you a second to process what he’s said as your eyes slide down his twitching body.

“Oh…”

“Oh,” he parrots, “just my luck, huh?”

“Fucking—God. Alex, I’m sorry, this is my fault, I—”

“Shut up,” he huffs out, moving his arm from his eyes to rest above his head, staring up at you half-lidded. You raise a brow at him, a little thrown off. He’s not usually so… curt. Though you suppose he’s not usually lying beneath you rock hard, either, “shit happens. Rather be horny than dead.”

He’s still sweating immensely, and his pupils are still blown. You slide your hand from his shoulder, the one he’s still gripping, to his throat to try and feel for his pulse. You realize you can see it pumping against his neck.

You press your palm over the pulsing skin and Alex moans. You flush with embarrassment and try to pull your hand away, but once again Alex holds you firm with a desperate whine.

“Alex,” you whisper.

“Hurts,” he gasps out, and it almost sounds like a sob, “hurts when you’re not touchin’ me.”

“O-okay, just…” you place your other hand on the center of his chest and he shivers, hips bucking up into nothing. He tugs his own gloves off, trying to reach back, tugging at straps and belts on your uniform like he’s trying to get it off—trying to get at your skin. You let him, knowing he’s not gonna be able to get past any of it with the way he’s lying, not this uncoordinated.

“Please,” he says, begs, and the tone of it makes something guilty stir in your core, “please just—it hurts, Y/N.”

“I’m touching you, Alex,” you try, like reminding him will make it better. He only whines.

“S’not enough, fuck, just—” he twists around, pushing up onto his knees and grabbing your ankles to yank you forward, knocking you flat onto your back. He brackets your head with his arms, leaning down to hide his face against the crook of your neck, panting against your heated skin. His hips rock against yours, against your own crotch, and you can feel the outline of his hard cock through the fatigues.

“Stop me,” he growls out, grasping at your hips, squeezing hard enough to bruise, “if you don’t want this you need to stop me. Hit me ‘till I stop, knock me out, I d-don’t care just—”

He gasps as you tentatively run your hands under his shirt, the skin to skin contact making his body sing, before thumbing at the hem of his pants.

“It’s okay,” you whisper, feeling how he positively vibrates against you, “take what you need. S’okay.”

The permission sends him into a frenzy, shooting up to tug at your harness, barely managing to get everything undone with shaking hands as he slaps away your own attempts to help. He pulls your jacket off next, then your vest, and undershirt, desperate to get his mouth on you.

He latches onto your pec, licking and sucking at your nipple, making you gasp and cry out, back arching into the wet heat of his mouth. He fondles the other roughly, switching between them to provide equal treatment before he’s trailing down your torso, licking up the droplets of sweat that gather in the divots of your body.

You’re already tugging at your belt, unzipping your pants as he lowers and he grins, nipping at the jut of your hip bone before reaching into your boxers. His warm, sweaty palm wrapping around your half-hard cock makes you startle, hips bucking as he pulls you free from the confines.

He doesn’t even bother stroking, the blue of his eyes almost completely overtaken by his blown pupils as he takes you into his mouth. You choke on nothing, the wet, supple heat immediately overwhelming. He licks and sucks, hollowing his cheeks to create more suction, bobbing up and down your length like a man starved. You can see the movement of his shoulder—can see how his bicep flexes as he strokes his own aching prick. You realize quite suddenly he’s managed to get his pants and briefs off over his boots, the former kicked off to the side.

You place one hand on his head, tangling in his sweat-slick hair, and he groans, grabbing desperately at your other hand and guiding it to the back of his neck. He takes the slow rolling motions of your hips with ease, his throat ever so slightly bulging as the tip of your cock teases into it with each movement.

He moans and gags around you, and you only release him when he gives a pained whine.

As he sits up you can see his straining cock, fist still wrapped around it though now resting at the base unmoving. The swollen flesh is an angry red, tip leaking a continuous stream of pre. It looks painful.

“Can’t fuckin’ cum,” he grits out, and his dick pulses in his grip as he gasps, “I-I, fuck, I just feel… empty?” He says, voice lilting like he’s not quite sure. His brain is so foggy, nerves firing off non-stop, wires crossed. The psychedelic aspect isn’t helping in the slightest.

You nod, squeezing his hips, trying to gently coax him into your lap. He shuffles forward with ease.

“Do you think…” you begin, trailing off. You know he’s not truly in the right mind to consent—you know this is… well, all of it’s unethical, and probably very much against protocol, but, “Alex, can I fuck you?”

He groans low and long, forehead falling to your shoulder. He shifts in your lap until your cock is pressed to the seam of his ass, and he rocks slowly, experimentally, like he’s not sure just yet.

You pet at him as he moves, patient, kissing his neck in hopes to curb the contact his body so desperately craves. It seems to be working, with the way his cock twitches and kicks against your stomach as he grinds.

“Y-yeah,” he finally breathes, “please.”

“Have you ever done this?” You ask, and he scoffs like that’s the dumbest question he’s ever heard. And maybe it is, given the circumstances, but if this is something Alex comes to regret, you at least want to try and make it good for him. Something he doesn’t have to think back on with any pain or fear.

“Once, with a girl, though.”

“I mean—”

“I know what you mean. What I said.”

You smile against his neck, storing that little fact away for later interrogation. No one ever said Alex Keller wasn’t adventurous.

“Good,” you murmur, and he makes a small little noise at the word. You fumble for the lube you keep in one of your packs—benefits of a not quite field medic, “do you like when I praise you?”

He hums an affirmative as you lube up your fingers, teasing between his cheeks. He lets out stuttering breaths, hips finally stilling as you make contact with his fluttering hole.

“Mhm, wanna be my good boy, huh?” You say, and he groans, body falling lax at the words just as you slip a finger inside, earning another pretty moan.

He surprisingly doesn’t tense around you at all, if anything you’d argue he’s loose. You tease the tip of your second finger against him and he rocks back to take it in alongside the first, his brow pinched and eyes closed as he starts to fuck himself back onto your fingers desperately, making indignant little moans you know will haunt your wet dreams.

“Fuck, baby,” he whines, and the petname makes your heart flutter, something settling deep in your stomach and he claws at your back, panting hard against your neck, “y-you could just—please, fuck me, I—I don’t need the prep, I’m—”

He can’t get a full sentence out, stumbling over his words as he loses himself to the pleasure. When a third finger slips easily in you come to the conclusion the aphrodisiac must’ve loosened him up naturally, though it makes you wonder if the chemical is somehow targeted towards women if this is the result in a male.

You shake the thoughts away, cooing at Alex, trying to soothe him down as his body shakes violently against yours. You're scared he’ll hyperventilate, or dehydrate completely. You make him take a swig from your canteen, fingers still inside of him as he gulps down the water.

He empties the container, tossing it carelessly onto the ground. He slams his lips against yours and you gasp, giving him the opening to slip his tongue into your mouth. He hasn’t kissed you so far, and somehow it feels far more intimate than what you’ve already done to him.

“The table,” he mumbles when he finally pulls away, panting against your mouth, “fuck m’on the table.”

Your cock twitches where it’s trapped underneath him and he nearly smirks at the feeling as you dumbly nod. Despite his wishes he whines as you slip your fingers from his hole, and he grips onto you the entire time you get up and shuffle him over to the sterile looking table.

You try to push him by the shoulders to lay back onto it, but he squirms, spinning with his back to you before bending over—presenting himself.

“Fucking hell, Alex,” you rumble, and he whimpers softly, such a delicate sound coming from such a strong person as his hips rock back to try and entice you in. It doesn’t take much, if anything at all.

You plant your hands onto his hips and he gasps as he feels the head of your swollen cock against his hole. You’re careful as you slip into him, the both of you moaning as the velvety muscles wrap tight around your prick.

You slowly slide in, taking your time despite his protests, careful to keep from hurting him no matter how ready his body seems. You run your palms up and down his back, slowly lowering your weight over him as you push into the hilt with a low moan.

“Okay, baby?” you murmur against his ear, and he nods, cheek pressed flush to the cool tabletop and mouth hanging open like a panting dog as he takes big gulping breaths.

“Please,” he begs, and it’s all you need to grip the edges of the table and begin pounding into him. He immediately cries out, eyes rolling back as your cockhead rubs along his prostate with each passing movement, your balls slapping roughly against his as you gain momentum.

His muscles spasm and flutter around you, seeming to tighten up as if they’re trying to fit to your cock, and the thought makes you dizzy with it. You feel so flooded with arousal you wonder if for a moment you did inhale some of that gas—or maybe this is all a dream and you’re currently on the ground foaming at the mouth.

But Alex moans so beautifully, each line and crease of his face accentuating his sharp features. He’s blissed out, you can see the glaze over his eyes, and you hope to God this is enough to fix whatever’s coursing through his blood right now.

You feel that familiar knot in your stomach as the pleasure settles deeply. You grit your teeth, moving to a slower but more brutal pace to try and curb your impending orgasm.

“You feel so good, Alex,” you try, hoping to get him closer to the edge with praise, “so fucking tight around me, sweetheart, you’re doing so good.”

He chokes out something caught between a groan and a sob, nodding his head as tears prick in the corner of his eyes. They never fall, but they make his eyes look so glassy—vulnerable.

“Look so pretty when you cry,” you can’t help but coo, and the words mixed with the perfect thrust of your cock against his prostate has him crying out, back arching up against your torso as he finally, finally cums.

It goes on for quite a bit, about forty seconds as his body spasms, and you reach down to stroke him through it, trying to help ease what you can only imagine is both a relief and a slight pain as his body finally releases.

You go to slip out of him, having completed your task, when Alex reaches back and weakly grasps at your hip, trying to tug you back in.

“Wan’ it inside,” he mumbles, and you bite back a groan.

“I don’t want to—”

“Please,” he whines, and you think maybe if this is something designed for women, that it perhaps feeds off of instinct to breed. That this might be something his body needs to feel for his brain to finally settle.

“Okay,” you whisper and slide back into him, his low whine making your cock twitch as you make shallow, quick little thrusts into his fluttering hole.

It doesn’t take long for you to come, having already been so close to the edge, and you gently bite down on his shoulder as you do, arms wrapped around his torso to hold him tight to you as you fill him.

Alex sighs, and he finally sounds content. He’s no longer laboring for breath, and while he’s still sweating you can feel his body temperature starting to drop back into a safer range.

He seems content to lay there for a little longer, and honestly you don’t blame him, the both of you catching your breaths as you come down from the high.

#modern warfare #modern warefare 2 #alex keller #alex keller x reader #alex keller x male reader #alex x reader #mine #smut #personal prompt

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hunterbunter3000 · 1 year

Note

since it’s Bunny day, imagine if Sweetheart announces the day before, she is going to wear a bunny suit for bunny day to pass out eggs to everyone. Everyone is imagining her in a sexy bunny suit (playboy bunny style) and are excited.

Sweetheart rolls up in a full bunny mascot suit with a bunny head, ready to throw eggs filled with glitter at everyone 😂💀

IM LAUGHLIN SO HARD WTFFF

THE EXPECTATION AND THEN THE REALITY IS KILLING ME OMG

She comes in with a suit and head you'd see at the freaking mall, and it is DEAD SILENT

NOT ONE PEEP OUT OF ANY OF EM FOR THE LONGEST

Gaz: Uhm. Sweetheart? What is... what is this.

Sweetheart, twirling: It's my bunny suit! I told yall this last week!

Soap: This is nooottt the bunny suit we thought of.

Sweetheart, confused: Huh? What other suit are--

Sweetheart:

(She throws an egg that was in her basket and it explodes on Soap's face)

Soap, screaming: WHAT TAE FUCK IS THIS?!?!

Sweetheart: YOU ARE NASTY!! ALL YALL ARE NASTY AS SHIT

(She starts throwing glitter eggs at all of them. Yelling and dodging starts happening)

Sweetheart: THIS IS EASTER SUNDAY NOT WHORE SUNDAY YOU- W H O R E S

Soap: IT GOT IN MY FUCKING EYE SWEET STEAMING JESUS

HORANGI: SWEETHEART STOP THROWING THE EGGS WE'RE SORRY

Sweetheart: FEEL MY EASTER BUNNY WRATH

It was alot of chaos in an hour 💀 after that happened Soap and the others apologized and so did she (she didn't mean it tho) she was truly sorry for getting glitter in Soap's eye tho- that shit hurted 😭😭

Alejandro and Rudy visited, and they were NOT expecting this. Alejandro fell over laughing and Rudy was crying, holding in his laughter. They love the suit that she's wearing tho, they thought it was cute

Graves was straight up laughing and saying what she was wearing was stupid, and Krueger punched him on the shoulder. He was confused on why she was wearing this but supported her anyway.

The day passes and they haven't seen Sweetheart like- anywhere (the other soldiers and rookies were happy that they got chocolates and eggs from a big bunny but they haven't seen her anywhere-- THE GHOST OF EASTER CONFIRMED???11?1?)

The boys walk into the living area and they freeze. Sweetheart is sitting on the couch, legs crossed and arms spread across the top, wearing a tight pink playboy bunny suit.

She's wearing an extremely thin, long sleeve turtleneck under it, yet they can't breathe. The pink lace garter belts strain against her thick, black stocking covered thighs and her pink heeled foot bounces up and down lazily. Roach and Rudy feel like passing out, and they all feel a tingling in their stomachs. Sweetheart smiles. "I still feel bad about what happened earlier, so take this," she points at her costume, "As an apology." She says lowly. The boys get excited, smiling ear to ear and moving towards her, but Ghost and Price know that she's hiding something. "But," She states. Oh fuck, they were right. She pulls out a long belt with small dull spikes on it from under a pillow, the jingling of the buckle makes them all shiver (and a bit turned on)

"I'm still quite pissed about it." She says, snapping the belt loudly to see them all flinch and hitch their breaths. She smiles sinisterly, her canines baring. "So take your punishment and let's play some Easter Games, yeah?"

Happy Easter/Bunny Day yall 💓

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chxrrylime · 1 year

Note

as a soldier should i’ve got you covered 🫡

alex and husband reader spend a loving and romantic night together, let’s say reader is a special forces operative and just got off a hard mission so alex absolutely spoils him, candlelit love making (bottom reader) followed by a rose petal, candlelit bath where he just cuddles reader in front of him 🥹🤌🏽 just alex being totally and utterly in love w his hubby? 🧎🏽

— 🐍

Thank youuu so much. Just was feeling some sappy angsty vibes last night and this helped me channel that ♥ Sending kisses.

Alex x M!Reader ↪ 2055 words — 18+ / SMUT & ANGST.

Content tags — cis male submissive reader, cis male dominant Alex, referenced/implied post-traumatic stress disorder, minor subspace, unsafe sex, crying, blindfolds, referenced/implied injury, established relationship, penetrative sex, anal sex, fingering, stress relief, massages, dinner, candles, and hot baths.

You had to remember to thank Price when you got back from leave. The bastard had gotten in contact with Alex post-mission and told him the bits he was permitted to share—mostly the bits that meant you were a stressed, exhausted, and miserable ball of anxiety.

Price knew you well. Well enough to know you wouldn’t tell Alex, because as much as Alex encouraged you to share—two people that understand each other’s lives and professions and how the two entangle—it was hard not to feel like you were only weighing him down.

And so you were mad at first, when you came home and instead of takeout like usual it was a nice home cooked dinner that Alex had obviously spent hours preparing, making most things from scratch. Both of your pensions for fast food meant you often forgot how good of a cook Alex was.

After some digging Alex had finally admitted that Price reached out. It felt a little like meddling, yes, but after Alex had set your plate and cuddled up close to you in a neighboring barstool to borderline spoon feed you half of it, kissing your cheeks and hairline sweetly, you’d slowly relaxed into it, realizing this was probably for the best.

“Hey,” Alex murmurs, rounding the counter. His hands are slightly damp from washing the dishes when they rest on your forearms, rubbing up and down, “trust me?”

“‘Course,” you breathe, giving him a tired smile that doesn’t hold for long.

He moves to stand behind you, hands tracing up your arms, stopping at your shoulders to press into the muscles there, massaging the aching tissue. You groan, arching back into his touch as his lean, strong fingers work out the knots and kinks.

He finally pulls his hands away, returning to bring a strip of cloth into your vision. A blindfold. He’s delicate as he wraps it around your head, tying it carefully but snug. His nails trail down your spine, making you shiver.

“Still good?” He checks in. You nod and he hums, wrapping his arms around you, kissing your neck as he turns you in your stool, slipping an arm under the crook of your knees to haul you into his arms bridal style.

“Jesus Christ!” You choke, clinging to his shoulders, pressing your face to the crook of his neck, breathing in his aftershave.

He chuckles, squeezing you tighter to his chest.

The walk is short but peaceful, and you nearly doze off against his warm, strong body, surrounded by the comforting scent of him and the sound of wood creaking beneath his feet.

You cling to him even as he tries to set you down on the bed and he laughs, placing his hands over yours gripping at his shoulder.

“Just for a minute, c’mon,” he urges, the smile in his voice evident.

You release him with a pout, hearing heightened as you hone in on his movements throughout the room.

You hear the soft clicking of a lighter, followed not soon after by the smokey smell of eucalyptus. You breathe in slow and steady, trying to let yourself relax against the soft bedding.

Despite your best efforts, the lack of sight, the envelopment of the darkness gives way for your imagination. The sounds of gunfire and yelling, the feeling of mud and blood indistinguishably caked onto your skin and gear. The immense amount of ache in your bones, the sharp pain in your brain as Soap had barely managed to drag you into cover when you’d finally collapsed from blood loss.

You startle when you feel hands on you again, ready to fight when Alex speaks, soothing you.

“It’s just me, just me, you’re okay,” he says quickly. You keep your hands on his wrists as he trails them from your shoulders up, not holding, just following.

He pulls the blindfold free and you blink, eyes adjusting to the dim, flickering light of the room. You first look at Alex, who’s already stripped down to his underwear, body flushed and littered in little knicks and scars. You scan the room, candles scattered about, little flames dancing across the walls. It makes you smile, followed by a bubbling laugh.

“What’s so funny?” Alex says, mock offended, big smile on his face hearing your genuine, full laugh for the first time tonight.

“You’re a romantic sap, Keller,” you grin, pulling him in for a kiss.

He laughs against your lips, humming happily.

“I’ve barely gotten started,” he murmurs, kissing you again, slow and sweet, tongue sweeping against your lower lip in a silent request.

You part your lips, feeling him lick along your tongue and teeth, making you moan softly. He manages to undo your belt, shimmying you out of your jeans but pointedly leaving your briefs on, his hands trailing up under your shirt next, groping at your chest gently before encouraging you to lift your arms to remove it

“Just trying to get laid then, huh?” You half-joke.

Alex frowns though, a genuine look of concern crossing over his face as his hands freeze on your hips.

“You don’t actually think that…” he trails off, staring at you with sad eyes.

You shrug in response.

“It’s been a while since we’ve had time for each other,” you admit, voice soft, “just… I wouldn’t blame you. Not that you need all the fanfare to get in my pants—”

“Hey, come on,” Alex says, urging. He kisses you again, quick and chaste, cupping your cheek as he pulls back “this isn’t about me, alright? I promise. It’s about you. I know… I know things were tough on your last op and I just wanted to… remind you. That, I…”

He trails off, swallowing, his voice thick. He’s looking at the wall now beside you, and you realize his eyes are a little glassy.

“Please don’t cry,” you say, tone jokingly annoyed and petulant, though you don’t know if you could actually handle it if he did start.

“I’m okay,” he laughs wetly, “I just realized we don’t do stuff like this a lot and… I don’t show my appreciation for you enough. I mean… I know it’s kind of a mood killer but… there’s always the chance we don’t come home, y’know?”

“You don’t have to do all this, though. To show me.”

“But I want to,” he murmurs, leaning in for another kiss, this one long and deep, licking into your mouth once again, “if you’ll let me.”

Nodding, you sigh contentedly against his lips, letting him lay you back down against the bed. He trails down your torso, licking and kissing, making you squirm when he briefly sucks at your hardened nipples.

His mustache tickles your tummy, and he smiles as you wiggle from the sensation, looking up at you all beautiful and splayed out for him.

He gently hooks his thumbs in your underwear, pulling them down your thighs, down your legs and off. You let out a soft breath as your cock is freed, hard and pressed against your stomach.

He leans back down, licking a stripe from the base of your shaft all the way to the tip before pulling it into his mouth, sucking at the swollen cockhead. You moan quietly at the feeling, the wet heat enveloping your sensitive flesh. He’s always been so skilled with his mouth, even the first time he sucked you off—having awkwardly admitted he’d never been with a man at all—he was so, so good at pleasing you, taking directions so well as he trained his throat to take you—just so eager to please.

Now he takes you with ease, holding the base of your cock, enveloping the whole of the flesh without barely a gag. He bobs his head up and down your length slowly, taking his time to pleasure you.

He massages your balls with his freehand, feeling for when they draw up tight so he can slide his mouth off of you, making you whine, being denied your pleasure.

“Shh shh, I got you,” he coos, the soft click of a cap followed by his slick fingers teasing your hole making you pant.

The lube quickly heats inside you, making you so, so much more sensitive, realizing quickly he’s bought warming jelly for tonight.

“Alex,” you whine, back arching, moving your hands down to tug at his hair and shoulders, “need you.”

Alex coos again, moving up your body to drape himself over you, his arm bent at an awkward angle to keep stretching you open on his nimble fingers. You wrap your arms around his torso, clinging tight to him, burying your face against the crook of his neck.

Alex can feel the warm wetness dripping against his shoulder, and knows not to say anything.

He just holds you tight, slipping a second, then a third finger into you as you rock your hips, desperately humping down onto the digits.

“You’re okay, sweetheart,” he says. You sniffle, moaning as he slips his fingers free, hole clenching at the idea of what comes next.

Your body shivers in anticipation, so pent up, so in need of release after the hell you’ve slogged through the past week. Need to feel Alex fill you up, make you feel whole again, like you only ever feel when you’re with him.

You feel the head of his long cock brush your hole and whine, rocking your hips down to try and take him in.

“Slow,” he chuckles, running his free hand through your hair, whispering a soft “let me make love to you.”

You moan softly, nodding as your head rolls back, feeling him slowly begin to press into you, stretching you around his pulsing girth.

“Atta boy,” he hums, “taking me so well, sweetheart. Makin’ you feel good?”

“Fuck, yes,” you groan, feeling his sharp smile against your throat as he rocks his hips, slow and steady.

For once the pace is enough—connects to some deep yearning inside you you didn’t think you’d ever feel again, not since all the shit you’ve been through. You scratch up and down his back, making him groan and hiss, his cock twitching excitedly inside of your tight walls.

The slow drag of his length within your walls, the steady pressure tapping against your prostate, the burning hot lube has your whole body tingling, skin covered in goosebumps. You feel like you’re going to shake apart, finally from pleasure instead of anxiety.

You moan his name over and over like a manta, hands grasping and clawing wherever they can reach.

“Look at me, baby,” he groans, and you do, opening your eyes to stare into those piercing sky blues. They always make you feel so bare, so laid out for him to pick apart. A vulture to roadkill.

You cry out, stomach spasming as you cum untouched, splattering between the both of your tummies and making the skin there sticky and wet. Alex borderline growls, forehead bonking against yours, those beautiful eyes slamming shut as he ruts into you two, three more times before he’s spilling into you, hot cum pumping you full.

You lay limp, a small noise of protest escaping your throat as Alex catches his breath and gently sits up. He keeps his softening cock in you for a moment, massaging at your tummy as residual twitches travel through the muscle there.

When he finally slips free you whine, and he coos a loving “I know, I know,” as he soothes you, tenderly scratching at the skin behind your ear, making you shiver and arch into the touch.

He leaves for what could be seconds or hours, though you doubt very long, brain all hazy and fucked out as he runs calloused hands over your sweaty skin. You can hear white noise coming from somewhere, and realize as he carries you into the bathroom that it’s the sound of water rushing, filling up the tub.

When he sets you into the tub you can tell he’s mixed in some sort of scented bath salts, along with little pink aromatic petals that float atop the steaming water. You moan at the relief on your sore muscles, more than happy to make room for him as he slips in behind you, holding you tight to his chest.

You eventually doze off, finally safe in his arms.

#modern warefare 2 #modern warfare #alex keller x reader #alex x reader #alex keller #mine #smut #male reader

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chxrrylime · 1 year

Note

okay okay no ale but alex keller… 😮‍💨🤌🏽

alex keller w a m!reader who is his husband and alex is just totally absolutely smitten 🤭 a hard mission brings him home pent up and frustrated and reader picks up on it and offers himself up for stress relief? but it’s soft and tender loving sex not hard fucking… please? 🙏🏽 bottom reader if you don’t mind 🫡 thank you <3

The movements themself are a little rough but the actions are tender. Can you tell I love him the most? Please send more Alex (begging).

Alex x M!Reader ↪ 1504 words — 18+ / SMUT & ANGST.

Content tags — cis male submissive reader, cis male dominant/service top Alex, anxiety, mention of claiming, unsafe sex, mildly dubious consent, mention of chemical warfare, mild overstimulation, Alex being a little out of it, established relationship, penetrative sex, anal sex, fingering, desperation, reunion sex, biting, and cock warming.

Alex moans softly against your mouth, long eyelashes tickling your cheekbones and the ungroomed beard scratching pleasantly against your face.

The usual careful grooming—the nice, straight lines in his fade and the perfect curl to his mustache—has faded into something gruffer and overgrown. Something that had you pausing when he came through the door of your shared apartment.

He looked tired, and the usual puppy-like excitement of seeing you again was replaced with something more like breathless relief, his shoulders visibly drooping—almost as if he was worried you wouldn’t be there—smiling but not quite reaching his eyes, not like the ones that make the corners crinkle with little crow’s feet like they usually do.

You approached him slowly, cupping his cheek and running your thumb along the new scabbed over cut across the jut of cheekbone. His eyes had fluttered shut, breath coming out in a shaky exhale as he pressed into the touch, starved. He’d dropped his bag and pulled you into a tight hug. It took almost five minutes for him to let you go so you could guide him down to sit on the couch, the dinner you’d made for the both of you forgotten in the kitchen. He didn’t usually have much of an appetite when he came home like this, anyway.

You’d straddled his lap, cradling his head against your chest and running your fingers through his disheveled hair in an attempt to straighten it out a bit.

“Do you want to talk about it?” You’d asked, tone indifferent.

He’d thought about it for a long moment, and for a second you thought maybe he’d fallen asleep against you.

“Maybe. Later,” he concludes, lifting his chin to look up at you. You smile gently down at him, and he returns it, strong arms tightening around you, “could you…?”

There’s a moment's pause, when you realize he’s not going to finish his sentence.

“Make you feel alive?” You murmur, a chuckle and then a wince at the bit of sadness to your tone.

He’d told you once, after a nightmare—memories of ULF, and Hadir, his brother, he’d said, as chlorine gas threatened to choke the life out of him—he’d told you that you reminded him he’s alive. That he’s still alive.

Despite your slight initial regret at your own word choice, Alex chuckled and nodded.

“Yeah,” he’d murmured.

That’s how you’d ended up with his pretty lips against yours, soft little noises of pleasure and contentment slipping past them, never one to hide his own arousal.

He keeps kissing you, licking into your mouth as he blindly grasps for the lube shoved somewhere between the cushions. You swear he stockpiles the shit in every crevice of the apartment, always so prepared.

You don’t realize how bad he’s shaking until he’s struggling to get the tube open, having to pull away from the kiss to look at what he’s doing. You gently set your hands on his inked forearms, trying to steady him.

“Alex…” you whisper, voice laced with the slightest worry.

“I’m okay,” he breathes out in a rush, finally getting enough of a grip to pop the cap open with a click. He squeezes a generous amount onto his fingers, wrapping his arms around you to ruck up your shirt and slip a hand into your boxers, teasing. He rests his forehead against your chest again, breathing you in, “I love you,” he sighs.

His hands still shake, skating across your skin, breath stuttering and occasionally rattling from his damaged lungs, but he knows he’s safe.

It’s the pent up nerves, a tight coil in his chest present whenever he has to leave you, pressurizing more and more the longer he stays away, away from your touch, your body. So long without the intimacy he craves so deeply. It’s almost overwhelming once that coil can finally spring free, hence the shaking and shortened breaths.

You rub his shoulders and back as he teases against your hole, slipping two thick fingers into you with ease. You let out a moan at the filling sensation, nails scraping gently up his spine and making him shiver as your fingers tangle tight in the short strands at the base of his skull.

He uses the movement of his fingers pumping in and out of you to rock you forward and back on his thigh, encouraging you to grind your hard cock against him, straining against the fabric of your boxers and darkening the already dark fabric.

His freehand winds itself up your side, under your arm to cradle the back of your head, holding you close as he leans up to suck bruises against your throat, desperate to mark you—leave something of him behind, brandished into your skin like belonging.

“I missed you,” he ushers, strained and gravelly, hot breath fanning across your neck followed by the wet heat of his tongue chasing a droplet of salty-sweet sweat, “so fuckin’ much.”

“Me too, baby, I know,” you breathe, a third finger pushing into you, splaying out to test how stretched you are, making you whine. You can hear the guilt—or not quite guilt, the neglect of his own desires—in his voice, in his gentle, throaty groans and borderline whimpers.

You shush him as he continues to mouth miserably at your throat, pulling his head back with a gentle tug in his hair, making him strain to look up at you kneeled over him. His pupils are blown so wide, the inky black darkening the sky blue fading around them.

“C’mon, love,” you urge, trailing your hands down to work his belt open, unbuttoning his pants to free his cock, the hard flesh bobbing out and slapping against his stomach, making him groan, “I want you.”

“Fuck,” he groans again, low and guttural, shoving at the hem of your boxers, doing his best to help you out of them. He wraps his slick hand around your prick, making you gasp as he strokes you slow and sweet, twisting on the upstroke and running his thumb over the sensitive slit.

You grab his dick in turn, shifting into position until it teases against your fluttering hole, leaking warm lube onto his swollen cockhead. He’s chewing through his lip, and you have to use your freehand to swipe a thumb along the taut skin before he rips it open, sinking down onto him just as he releases the flesh.

He gives a hearty moan, head thrown back against the couch cushions as you take him to the hilt in one swift movement. He’s so, so pent up. You can feel the clear outline of the thick vein that travels up the side of his cock, his flesh pulsing and twitching inside you.

He moves his hands from your lower half to wrap around your torso instead, pulling you flush to him in a tight hug. You can feel him shift, his legs spreading further apart and forcing your thighs to go as well before he plants his feet, nibbling gently at your shoulder as he starts to rock up into you, his cock perfectly grinding over your prostate on each drag in and out.

You’re both moaning into each other’s ears, Alex rambling as he thrusts, hips straining but desperate to please you, feeling how your prick pushes his own t-shirt up and ruts between the divot of his abdomen, getting his already sweaty skin sticky with precum.

“So goddamn good,” he chokes, and you can tell he’s not going to last long, not like this. You rock your hips back and forth in order to meet his thrusts, simultaneously grinding your cock harder against his flexing stomach, chasing your own pleasure. You can feel his nails digging into your shoulder blades, crooked and slightly jagged from being peeled away at the tips. An anxious habit. The feeling, the sting, steals your breath away, makes you see stars.

Alex suddenly pushes you back with one hand on your shoulder, arching his hips and spine further to keep fucking up into you, his free hand reaching for your cock to stroke it hard and fast as he lets out a string of deep grunts.

His prick grinds perfectly over your prostate and you're crying out, just as he does, heads thrown back as you ride through the aftershocks, milking each other for all your worth. His hips stop moving relatively quickly, but you have to grip his fist to stop him from mindlessly stroking you to an early, overstimulated grave.

You gently move forward, his gradually softening cock beginning to slip out of you before he grabs your hips bruisingly fast, eyes snapping open.

“Don’t leave,” he rasps, so vulnerable you freeze in your tracks, searching his wide, almost frantic eyes. You nod slowly and settle back down, taking his length back in, watching him visibly slacken as he pulls you into cuddle against him.

You haven’t quite gotten your Alex back just yet, but that’s okay. You’re willing to wait for him however long it takes.

#modern warefare 2 #modern warfare #alex keller #alex keller x reader #male reader #mine #smut #alex x reader

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heranubis · 3 months

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LAST HOUSE IN THE BAYOU: Infernal Alex Keller mini-series ◇ chapter II. PURPLE LOOSESTRIFE ◇ img cred ◇

For the first in a very, very long time - you dream about the house again. You're small again and everything is hazy - your footsteps echo louder than they should when you walk down the hallway that seems to go on forever. You get the feeling you're being watched, but the eyes in the pictures along the walls only stare ahead. You swear one of them blinks - if only for a moment - but then all is still.

And then you hear the hooves. Soft thuds that're loud in their own right as they follow behind you - slow, thunderous, hunting. You are small and scared and whatever is behind you wants to hurt you; or so your mind screams. But louder than the voices screaming in your head is one you haven't heard since you were a child. The old woman. Her voice now is more... firm, angry.

"You shouldn't be here" she says, and you feel clawed hands resting on your shoulder. You are small ans scared and whatever is behind you is holding you. And you feel a long, thin tail as it wraps around your ankle. Demon is the only thing your mind can think - and you do what little you would have done. You cry.

There is nothing soft about these tears, they are loud and ugly and full of emotion. The clawed hand on your shoulder lets go, but leaves behind a warm sting. The old woman stands before you now, and her face is still blurry but you get the distinct impression she's smiling at you. "Welcome home, lil' one" she whispers fondly. And for a moment, just a single breath, the sting goes away.

- ◇ -

You sit up in bed, sweating and gasping and looking around with wild eyes. You know very well what that was. It was a warning. In the years of your family's abscence, something... dark has made it's den between these old wooden walls. Long since have you believed in spirits, especially those who still seem to haunt from childhood, but not once have you ever felt something so... malicious.

And for a moment, just a quick blink-of-the-eye, there's a figure standing in the doorway. The first thing you notice is how tall he is, and the second are his hooves. The tail that whips behind the figure almost angrily, how it curls and lashes and there's a sharp spade at the end. You can't see his eyes but you feel the anger he looks at you with. "You shouldn't be here" he says - your chest hurts, a deep burn that fades into a sting. It hurts, it hurts, it hurts.

The figure is gone - the doorway is empty and you can breathe again. You're somewhere between tears and terror, because you're nowhere near the old house. How far can this thing follow, how long will it torment to get its way. Just as everything seems to close in, you feel a familiar comfort settle over your shoulders. And a thought comes to you - the old bottle tree, how it seemed to laugh in joy when you first came back to the house.

An idea comes to you - one that soothes you enough to sleep again.

- ◇ -

The next morning, you have a bottle and twine clutched tightly in hand as you walk up the old pathway. It's a whiskey bottle - the only one that called out to you, the one that now feels right in your palm as you look up at the old, large tree. The limbs seem to bend down for you to reach, the breeze kissing your cheeks as you quickly tie half of the twine around the neck of the bottle and the other around the branch.

"I don't know your name" you say, almost hesitant. The bayou is silent as if every creature is lurking and waiting, outside observers to this unknown fate of yours. "I don't know who you are, but I put a bottle on the tree. For you." There's a brief sound, like something trampling down the stairs inside - something running to the door.

But you see nothing, the door doesn't open nor are there any shadows. There is only silence, and a foreboding feeling. You square your shoulders and put on a brave face, fists lightly cleanched as you walk up the stairs. "This is my home, my family's home - and I won't let you chase me out. I don't know what you are, or what you want. But if you want to hurt me, you can get the hell out."

And you'd swear to anyone who'll listen - that something curled around your leg and a voice hisses in your ear. "No" it says. "You shouldn't be here. And now you're mine."

- ◇ -

You continue working on the house as planned - dusting old furniture and deep cleaning the windows to let in more sunlight. You ignore the feeling of being watched, blindly shake your leg when you feel his tail try to curl around it. That's the most he touches, but he watches constantly.

There's been no need of a name for him, nor does he offer one up - perhaps it's better that way. There's power in a name, control over the soul - or what remains of one. So you call him demon, and he calls you 'mine'. His favorite way to bother you is clicking his hooves against the ground, though one sounds distinctly more metallic than the other. You never look at him long enough to figure out why.

He follows you to the motel, some nights. Stands at the end of your bed while you sleep, simply watches you. And other nights, he stands in the old wooden doorway and growls at you to not come back. You never listen - this was your home first, and you'll not be chased from it. His presence draws forward others who have long since tried to rest - and now many ghosts walk the hallways of the house in the bayou.

The demon is like an invasive weed, crawling into roots and trying to strangle out the others. But what he doesn't know is that you're a gardener - and you care deeply for the flowers that bloom in the cracks of the old wood.

#heranubis #call of duty #alex keller x reader #modern warefare 2

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heranubis · 3 months

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LAST HOUSE IN THE BAYOU: Infernal Alex Keller mini-series ◇ chapter I. CREEPING CHARLIE ◇ img cred ◇

You don't remember much about early childhood, but you remember the house. The old, weather stained wood and it's wrap-around porch that extends out into the dock that then leads to the boat ramp. It's almost endless, how far the wood goes. The rest of the house stands two stories high, and has windows on every side to let in the sunlight - with stairs that creak in protest at every movement yet still hold strong.

Many nights you can remember sneaking down those steps to sneak an extra cookie or just step onto the back of the porch and watch the fireflies do their nightly dances. A face you don't have a name for, you think maybe a great grandmother, would always walk up behind you and place a sun kissed, wrinkled hand on your shoulder. "Off to bed, lil' one" she'd say, her voice always warm and kind and gentle. Maybe that's why you listened - her voice too sweet for you to break it by disobeying.

So you'd smile and nod and head back up the stairs to sleep - you don't ever remember seeing her face the next morning around the old kitchen table for breakfast. You politely ask about the old lady, but everyone goes silent - and for the first time, you learn the rules. Don't talk to them, don't talk about them, don't run from them. You never were brave enough to ask who the them was.

That summer is also the last you see the old lady. It's the last you visit that old house and the bayou for a very, very long time.

- ◇ -

When you get the call, it's just as you're coming in from tending to your garden. Strawberries and blackberries and even the sour little blueberries are all starting to bloom - and you're going to jar them up and send them to loved ones. Your phone rings and rings, loud and sharp as a bell and your favorite song echoing through the kitchen as you wrestle the lids onto the jar and tie little ribbons afterwards.

With sticky palms and lightly breathless, you accept the call that changes everything. Everyone who remembers the house in the bayou is either dead or gone, lost to the winds. You're the only one still in the home state, the only one who can actually physically visit the house and see it after so many years. There's a sense of nostalgia there - maybe that's what compells you to say yes.

Three days until you'll meet up at the old house and be given a key and legal permission to do whatever you please. You're already making plans to just flip the house and sell it, let some new family make sweet memories. But another part of you feels guilty, like you're abandoning the history there - leaving it to be forgotten. You try to ignore that part, as you always do. You don't talk about them, you don't talk to them, you don't run away. Those are the rules of the swamp - rules you'v followed since you were a child.

- ◇ -

The house is much the same as you remember it, except the bottle tree is a little more full and all the glass more faded. It looks like you remember, but it has aged with you. Looking at the house as you pull into the driveway is almost like you're in a memory, a living photograph. The air is warm and the insects are singing the same song they did when you were a child. The alligators hiss along with words older than time, talking of thing's humans will never see.

All around the house, the bayou is alive. But there is nothing with more soul than the house itself. The old wood porch creeks as you take your first step up, key nestled in the meat of your palm. The windows are covered in layers of dust and everything truly remains untouched from the last time you were here, but it still feels like home. You didn't realize how much you truly missed this place until you'v seen it again.

You look down at the pathway, and you notice fondly how overgrown it is - the swamp reclaiming its land and gently removing where you once walked as a child. What you notice most are the small batches of creeping charlie growing wild and strong and untamed. They were grandma's favorites - she'd always tell you ol' robin was running away again, just to watch your confusion as you'd go look for little red birds. It was as you got older that you'd learned plants had many different names, just like people. But to you, they were just charlie.

Distantly, the insect song dies down into something quieter as the bayou settles around your disturbance and all is back to the way it was. The bottles in the soul tree clink together with a gentle wind, and it almost sounds like laughter. It feels like the bayou itself is saying welcome home.

- ◇ -

Inside is just as dusty as one could assume, and you're thankful to have been wearing your medical mask when you walk in. Despite how coated the windows are, the sunlight still gets through, leaving warm patches. Your steps are slow and courteous, mindful of where you step as your mind remembers the house's layout. Downstairs is the guest room, the living and dining rooms connected. The old kitchen where you learned all of grandmas recipe's.

And upstairs are the bedrooms, the big bathroom where you'd camp out sometimes during the bad thunderstorms. Every inch of this house has a bit of history to it - something that calls back to times where you were happy and young, naive of the world. Maybe it's the nostalgia that makes things seem brighter back then - but it's a comforting thought as you begin cleaning. Despite it all, you can't help the feeling you're being watched - but this is the bayou, and you know the rules.

- ◇ -

By the time you decide to head out for the night, the sky is dark and you need a flaslight to illuminate your path. And as you walk through the overgrown trail with the patches of creeping charlie - you can't help but notice the weird, large hoof prints following behind your own shoes.

#heranubis #call of duty #alex keller x reader #modern warefare 2

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twistedbloodstain · 3 years

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captain price x reader : november flush | “how you two met” headcanons : civilian edition

plot: the one where off duty!captain price goes to a newly opened bakery in town, owned by baker!reader and plot ensues.

tags: blushing, slight pining if you squint, pet names, food :)

masterlist

you two met at a bakery. your bakery to be precise.

you’re a baker. you finished culinary school a couple of years ago and you have always dreamed of having your own bakery.

and it was a dream come true.

several months ago, you returned to the town you grew up in, visiting your parents then the idea of running the bakery there conjured in your mind then had it.

after serving a mother and her child at the counter, the sight of a man greets you.

an unfamiliar one.

a handsome unfamiliar one.

after a few months of serving the local residents, you’ve encountered almost all of the people in here.

you glance at his stature and damn he’s tall af.

his green shirt perfectly hugs his broad shoulders and slightly robust arms.

this is a fine fine man.

you quickly return your stare to his face before he notices you ogling at his form.

maybe he already did…

or not

you clear your throat before you enthusiastically greet him with a “good afternoon!” smiling before you asked how you could help him today.

he replies with a hum, looks up at the menu attached on the wall.

you guessed he was unfamiliar with the menu here.

so you suggest him a honey glazed donut which was one your specials.

he murmurs that he’ll get one of those then asks for a cup of earl gray tea.

you ask if he wants anything else, he shakes his head.

you then tell him his order total.

he brings out his wallet and reaches his left arm toward you.

you stretch your right arm, softly brushing against his rough hand while getting a grip of the notes.

he then gives you a small smile then states that you keep the change.

you softly utter that you’ll serve it to his table.

he gives a you a quick “okay” before heading to an empty table.

damn.

you quickly put together his order, opening the glass case, grabbing the honey glazed donut but not before grabbing a tong.

afterwards, you look up and see one of your employees, sat on a chair on your right, a teasing smirk painted on her face.

“what are you lookin’ at?” you pipe up.

“i saw that.”

“saw what?”

“you and that man.” she adds, the smirk still evident on her face. “he’s quite attractive don’t you think?”

“you’re not wrong.” you curtly respond, pouring the scalding hot tea into a pristine white teacup.

“who knows, maybe he’ll ask you out.” she remarks.

“and whatever gives you that impression?” you murmur.

“please, he’s been gawking at you ever since he got here,” scoffing in her seat. “look at him.”

you shift your head towards the direction of where he was sitting.

and she was right.

he was staring at you.

you feel a rush of blood on your cheeks, looking away and squinting your eyes while shooing away your employee.

you felt like a middle school girl that just saw her crush pass down the hall.

you glance up at your employee, an amused chuckle escaping her lips from seeing the sight of her flushed boss.

“you should go serve that boss.” smirking at the tray then at you.

you waited for the redness to depart from your face, before grabbing the tray and going up to the man.

you greet him with a smile, his blue eyes never leaving your form.

“here’s your order.” you blurt, placing down the tray on the small wooden round table.

“thank you, doll.” he thanks, another smile forming across his lips.

you felt your cheeks flush from the pet name, “will that be all, sir?” you nervously utter out, hands sweating.

“that’ll be all. but i suppose it won’t be too much if i ask for your name, sweetheart”he politely asks.

toying with a quartz ring on your ring finger with your thumb, you shyly reply with your name.

he softly says your name, testing how it would sound like rolling off his tongue, “nice to meet you, i’m john.” he introduces.

reclining his hand, initiating a hand shake “john price.” he adds, a smile gracing his lips.

you slowly lift your hand and shake his hand.

a shy smile appears on your face.

what a charmer, you thought.

a.n: what do you guys think? i’m a sucker for domestic price, i think i’m gonna post a fic in his point of view. feel free to put on a cod x reader request. :>

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twistedbloodstain · 3 years

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sergeant kyle “gaz” garrick x reader : waves meeting your shore, ever and evermore | “how you two met” headcanons: civilian edition

plot : the one where after an exhausting operation, kyle decides to wind down at the local library in his town and meets librarian!reader who was on her shift when he arrived.

tags : time to give kyle garrick some love, pining if you squint, nothing bad rlly, mentions of mw19

masterlist

after the operation in georgia, kyle was sent home by his superiors. kyle inquired for an assignment but told he’s going to have one soon. they insisted for him to take a rest before he takes on the mission.

kyle expressed his desire to be on the mission right away but it was dismissed.

the temporary leave irritated and perplexed him.

there’s nothing he can do so he just listens.

hastily unlocking the door to his flat, twisting the door knob then shoving the door open with his left arm carrying his duffel bag, kyle welcomes the sound of silence to his ears.

he does a quick scan of his living room, a dusty coffee table and television, the jacket hanging on one of the hooks fastened on the wall doesn’t escape his line of sight.

making his way to the bedroom of his flat, he opens the door ajar, a messy bedroom greeting him.

he lazily tosses the duffel bag on his bed, contemplating whether he should change first or fix up his things.

he opts for the former, heads for his closet then puts on some grey sweatpants and a blue shirt.

walking back to his bed, he unzips the bag and takes out the dirty clothes, briskly dumping them in the laundry basket.

he delves deeper into the bag and finds a few of his favorite books.

a smile finds it’s way to his face, reminiscing the excitement and suspense it brought him back then.

they were his safe space when the world he lived in was in peril, his moral compass when his ideologies were challenged.

he walks up to his wooden bookshelf, books on hand delicately stuffing the books into the smooth hemlock bookshelf.

after putting the books back, on the spine of a book there was a thin paper attached, it caught his attention. he grips the upper spine of the book pulling it towards him.

he realizes its a book he borrowed from the town’s local library. he borrowed it a week before he was tasked in the al-qtala fiasco, he was supposed to return the book a few days after he borrowed it. the assignment had him unable to return the book on it’s due date.

he decides to return the book today, the idea of a walk appeasing the idea. he needed to be alone with his thoughts after the previous mission.

a sigh escapes his lip, as the idea of the recent missions crossed his mind.

he felt like it squeezed all the energy out of him, the burden of his job sometimes weighing too heavy for his shoulders to carry.

kyle knew what he signed up for, he knew all the shit he went through was for the greater good anyways.

it did little to soothe him nevertheless he accepted it.

he clasps the book on his left hand, exits his room, walks up to his jacket on the hook and puts it on.

he walks down the patio of his flat, greets one of the neighbors, madam shelly who gave him some of the crumb cake she bakes and continues towards the location of the library.

the brick-made library enters his sight so he jogs up.

as he entered the library, a sweet earthly scent greets his nostrils. the well-lit library had a few people sitting with their books at the wooden tables stationed at the middle. last time he was here, it was only him and the grumpy librarian who lended him the book.

walking up to the librarian’s desk, he sees that no one’s around to station the desk, and reluctantly rings the bell.

a figure immediately rises behind the table, expecting the grumpy woman from last time rather a young lady welcomes him.

she sheepishly smiles at him apologizing for her sudden appearance.

“hi, how can i help you today?” she starts, dressed in a black turtleneck, a golden necklace hanging on her nape and a black and white plaid skirt to finish with.

“um, i’m here to return a book i borrowed months ago.” he returns a smile to her, a warm feeling agitating in his chest.

“oh, just hand over the book and then you can be on your way.” she replies with a radiant tone.

he hands her over the book while he does a subtle gaze at her features. the librarian takes the book shyly taking a few glances at him, a small smile forming on her lips.

“this book’s been gone for four months,” she comments while scrolling through her computer, “where have you been?”, a chuckle leaving her.

“work.”

kyle didn’t know why the hell he was still doing there, but the enticing librarian seemed to have him glued on the spot.

“you must’ve been very busy, did you bring it with you?” she curiously remarks while propping the book at a tray with wheels.

“yeah brought it wherever i went.” he replies, softly eyeing her movements while stowing the weight of his hand on the table, almost as if he’s leaning on it.

she notices his gesture and beams at him, she slowly walks up to him. her eyes never leaving his form.

“so,” she slowly voices out, “there’s this nice cafe down the street and i was wondering if you’re free later? after my shift of course.” she nervously blurts out.

it was his turn to chuckle, their eyes maintaining eye contact.

“absolutely.”

author’s note : please leave a like or reblog!! feel free to drop your thoughts 💭 also feel free to put out a request :D

#kyle garrick xreader #kyle garrick #gaz #call of duty modern warfare #modern warfare 2019 #modern warfare #alex modern warefare x reader #captain price #captain john price #farah karim #cod x reader #cod headcanons #headcanons #call of duty x reader #call of duty #codmw

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