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cheesit-notes · 9 months

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"s'fucking small"

lieutenant ghost who has a major size kink.

tags: MDNI!, size kink obvi, manhandling teehee, fem reader, fingering, you're put in a mating press, lowkey praise?

a/n: sorry for the late post, i went to hoyofest '23 and then tumblr went down for a bit but teehee take ghost and size kink (i want him to manhandle me)

ghost likes to hold things after you hold them just to see how big his hands look on it compared to yours. does the thing where he makes you hold his phone and later compares it to his cock. (when hard, he is most definitely over 7 inches and at least 5 inches in girth, you can't tell me he can act like this if his cock was any less)

loves manhandling you 'cause god, look at you! so small next to him. he absolutely adores your hand in his, just shows him how big he is compared to you.

when he has you pinned to the bed, legs spread out showing off your pretty little cunt to him, just him. god, and you're so wet, letting him slip in a finger in so easily. one hand holding yours down, your knees pressing against your chest as he pushes himself onto you. revels in the fact he can just engulf your entire body with his larger one.

slips a few fingers in and out, seeing you squirm around trying to rub on him trying to get any form of friction. teases you by rubbing your clit, just a little. then when he's had enough, he'll stand up and let you watch as he slowly takes off his belt and let his cock spring free.

an arm to support him, your knees now next to your head because of the position, and his cock lined up with your cunt. he'll ram it in with no time for you to adjust (he's so mean). gets him all riled up seeing a bulge in your stomach. he'll grunt out your name and little comments about how you're "s'fucking small" and how you're taking him in sooo good. he'll put you in a mating press. eventually, he's just panting and moaning your name as you squeeze around him with a death grip on your hips and thighs.

god you look so cute as he fucks your brains out.

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miilkybnn · 10 months

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here’s some AleRudy that i drew because they’re both Mexican (and gay) and I’m Mexican (and gay) and so I have to project them dancing at old baile songs that I always hear at quinceneras so imagine them being at their niece’s quinceñera or something 🤩 + the quick doodle I did following with the “they’re at they’re niece’s quince” idea

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rodolfoparra · 1 year

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roach but he has a whole collection of dvd copies of his favorite movies back home

it's comforting to him to have the physical copy, because while the first viewing is special, he gets to rewatch them over n over again

#cod #.txt #gary roach sanderson #i feel like he'd be the guy that likes cheesy b movies

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patrollingboston · 1 month

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141 Beach Episode // Cod x Reader

You know how in every good show there's a beach episode? Yeah this is theirs.

The 5 of you were sat in a truck with the aircon blasting. Price was dramatically fanning himself with his boonie hat. With one hand placed on the steering wheel. You had just finished a week-long mission and it left you all somewhere on the east coast with the sun beating down with no mercy. You were so uncomfortable, dressed head to toe in full gear practically sweltering in it.

“Not used to this bloody heat.”

Soap sighed placing a hand to his forehead to relieve his brow of sweat.

“I’ve got the aircon.”

Gaz smirked, of course he was fine he was sat in the front seat with cold air blasting directly onto him. You were squished between Ghost and Soap, plus he always wore a sunhat and sunglasses even in the rain.

“How ghost isn’t a puddle yet I have no clue.”

You stated, glancing over at ghost who was dressed in all black with his mask still pinned down onto his face yet he didn’t show a single sign of discomfort.

“Can you even breathe? Isn’t it like being trapped under a blanket?”

“I can breathe fine.”

He grunted not sounding amused by your questions.

“Look at tha’ ain’t it a pretty view.”

Soap said tapping on the truck window, everyone’s eyes glanced to meet where he was pointing. You were greeted with the sight of a gorgeous white sandy beach with the clearest sea water you had ever seen with families playing in the sand and surfers utilizing the waves.

“The things I would give to dive in those waves.”

You said groaning, resting your head back in the seat knowing you had a hot and uncomfortable 6+ flight ahead of you to get back to base in England not to mention the drive to even get to the airport.

“Can’t we stop for a bit? The missions all done and dusted, surely, they don’t need us back that hastily.”

Gaz asked turning to face the captain with a cheesy grin plastered across his face.

“I could use a pint. I’m sweating like a fucking pig. We only have a few hours but I think we could all use a break.”

“Make that two.”

Ghost’s gruff voice chimed in his mood perking up at the promise of a cold beer.

“I think everyone here wants a bloody pint.”

A few moments later the 5 of you were all stood on the beach boardwalk, you removed your boots and placed them by the railing before stepping onto the soft, warm sand.

“I have never ever stepped on sand so soft oh my-“

You wondered how long it had been before you stood barefoot on a beach. Probably not since you were a child on a day trip with your family.

“Shit the sands a bit hot ain’t it?”

Soap said as she stepped onto the sand beside you, shifting from foot to foot as he complained about the temperature once again.

“I’ll go grab us some drinks, find a spot I’ll come find you all.”

Price said before stepping up the stairs and walking towards the crowded beach bar on the boardwalk.

Ghost, who was still dressed fully in his gear stomped behind you scouting the beach for a place to sit like it was the toughest decision he ever had to make.

“Here.”

He said pointing to a peaceful square of the beach, not too far from the shore.

You all placed your backpacks down and set a towel down for yourself. Ghost was wrestling with the beach umbrella to get it stood up.

“Whose going for a swim?”

Soap said with a huge smile on his face as he stripped off his t shirt leaving him in his cargo shorts.

“You go first mate, tell us how cold it is eh?”

Gaz joked, pushing soap slightly closer the seafront.

“Don’t be a pussy.”

“I’ll go!”

You said, removing your jacket and vest leaving you in a tank top and some old cargo shorts dumping by your backpack them away from the shore so the waves didn’t steal them.

You jogged down to the water front stood beside Soap and Gaz.

“Whose going to make the first move then?”

You all stood in a line, hands on hips inspecting the water as it broke in front of you. As you spoke Soap dived headfirst into a wave like a goofy dolphin. He stuck his head up like an seal, running his hands through his mohawk and wiping the salty water off his face.

“Is it cold?”

You shouted through the crashing waves.

“Nah, its refreshing.”

He shouted back before running through the water back onto the shore to stand beside the two of you.

“I don’t know if I’m that hot anymore you know-“

You said backing off after feeling the ‘refreshing’ water splash over your feet and ankles sending little shockwaves through you.

With that statement Soap placed two hands on your waist and lifted you up into the air before placing you over his shoulder like a fireman would carrying someone out a burning building.

“DON’T YOU DARE SOAP, I MEAN IT.”

You screamed thumping his back in fear as he stepped into the freezing ocean once again. Gaz stood on the shore filming the entire situation laughing at your misfortune. Ghost sat watching from afar under a big shady umbrella pint in hand with Price sat beside him reading something, smoking one of his cigars as per usual.

“Ready?”

Soap teased as he began to hoist you up even further before throwing you into the sea with a huge splash. The cold water shocked you at first but after a few seconds, soap was right. It was kind of refreshing. You popped your head up out the water with a frown.

“I hate you asshole.”

“You weren’t going to get in I had no choice-“

You pushed a big wave of water his way aiming for his face secretly hoping the salt would burn his eyes.

“GAZ GET IN.”

Gaz stepped into the water with haste joining you and soap.

“We going play mermaids or what?”

You asked with a chuckle as the 3 of you treaded water in a circle.

“I would prefer to drown Soap.”

Gaz said before dunking soaps head back under the water.

About an hour later you sat on the beach wrapped in your towel, drying off in the sun.

“Been a while since I’ve been able to relax on a beach.”

Price spoke, he was leant back on a sun lounger his hat placed over his face shielding his eyes from the setting sun.

“Thought you were asleep old man.”

Ghost chuckled.

“Can we take a photo?”

You asked bringing out your super old digital camera you dragged around on every single mission.

The 5 of you gathered in closer. Gaz throwing up a peace sign. Soaps arm slung around ghost and a beer held loosely in the other. Captain Price sat up placing his hands on your shoulders. Your smiles were all wide (you would like to believe ghost’s was too) as the light of the setting sun glowed on your faces.

That day was a good day.

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evermoreal · 4 months

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it always leads to you ࿐

pairing: simon riley x reader

genre: dad’s best friend au, fluff, smut, a touch of angst

cw: smut - this is 18+ minors dni, age gap (ghost is in his 40s, reader is in her 20s), fem!reader, reader is implied to be shorter than ghost, unprotected sex (bad idea!!!!!), praise kink (excessive use of ‘good girl’), oral (m & f receiving), face-fucking (he’s gentle abt it), ummmm a man that is Not ghost makes unwanted sexual advances, small mention of blood (someone gets a cut on their forehead). please lmk if i missed anything !!!!!!

summary: coming home for the holidays is both a blessing and a curse — cheesy music, bittersweet nostalgia, and simon riley, your father’s best friend and the man you’ve had a stupidly big crush on for years.

author’s note: hiii!! um a Few things . firstly, i seldom write smut & when i do i never post it. i have put off posting this for so long bc i was so nervous — it was originally meant to be a christmas gift to u guys 😭😭 n e ways we Prevail. also i despite being Obsessed w him i’ve never written for ghost !!!! i want to do soo much more for him & the other cod men, so if u have any reqs/ideas, my asks are always open !!! love u guys soooooo much i hope i enjoy ! 💋💋

word count: 11k (sorry 😭)

credits: title is from tis the damn season by taylor swift, and the beauuuutifullll render/edit of ghost is by user dwisesz on twitter!

before you met him, you’d heard endless stories. for as long as you could remember, your father recounted tales of his friend ‘ghost’ from the army. every time he came back from deployment, there’d be something new — ghost’s snipe from 2,700 meters away, ghost making your dad laugh so hard beer came out of his nose, ghost making a new recruit cry simply by staring at them.

there were others, of course, too; gaz, who your father had quite the soft spot for; john, who quickly became your favourite when you met him a few years ago and he snuck you a sip of wine at dinner; soap, who was new to the team but had enough passion to carry an entire army on his back.

ghost, though — he was your dad’s favourite. though he claimed to be too honourable for favourites, the way your father spoke about him made it clear. a simultaneous respect and affection woven through every recounted story.

it was a shock you didn’t meet him until your freshman year of college. your father and ghost’s leave fell around the same time, and your father had invited him to stay with your family. your father never revealed much about ghost’s history, but you knew it was dark and splattered with blood. he was alone now, and though he claimed he preferred it that way, he’d accepted your father’s invitation.

from your bedroom, you’d heard the front door creak open, and without so much as a breath you were bounding down the stairs, bare feet smacking against the hardwood. your father was in the midst of putting down his bags when you threw your arms around him. “dad!”

he reciprocated immediately, pulling you tightly against him. “hi, honey. i missed you.”

as you pulled back, he patted your head, and you spotted a shadow along the floor. following it toward the still-open door, you found a broad, menacing figure, blocking most of the sunlight. he was nearly as wide as the doorway, and the top of his head just barely made it under the threshold. over his face was hidden by a black balaclava with the faint impression of a skull along the front, faded with age and use. despite the endless stories, you were immediately intimidated, and stepped closer to your father.

your dad squeezed your arm, chuckling. “lieutenant, this is my daughter.”

looking between the two of you, simon took a slow step forward, and extended his hand. his movements were careful, like you were a wild animal he didn’t want to spook.

hesitating briefly, you slipped your hand into his. the warmth of ghost’s hand bled through the gloves he wore as he squeezed yours once. “nice to meet you, sweetheart.”

“it’s nice to meet you, um, mr ghost.” you had to crane your neck to look him in the eye.

a low, raspy chuckle rumbled from his chest, and beneath the balaclava, his eyes creased into tiny half-moons. “just simon is fine, love.”

and, really, he didn’t even give you a chance. there was no warning, no preamble. in an instant, fear ignited into something far more dangerous — attraction.

with a warm stomach, you smiled, and tried your hardest to keep it from growing too wide. “right. um. simon. yes.” you bit your cheek. “i’ve heard a lot about you.”

finally releasing your hand, he murmured, “terrible things, i assume.” his wink was quick and cheeky and certainly wasn’t meant to release a swarm of butterflies in your stomach, and yet . . .

“mostly,” you joked, and beside you, your father laughed. it was a rude awakening — ice water splashed over your silly little daydream. this man was only a few years younger than your father — in no universe would he give you a chance, and in no world should you want him to.

as quickly and as unassumingly as you could, you excused yourself, claiming you were in the middle of packing — which was mostly true. you were due on campus in less than two weeks, and if you didn’t start now, you’d leave it until the night before and end up forgetting something.

initially, you’d dreaded spending two weeks under the same roof as simon. it was a surefire plan to end up embarrassing yourself, because you’d never really been able to act normally around a crush, especially one in the shape of a 6-foot-whatever behemoth. yet, as the days went on, that dread steadily began to lift. despite your school girl crush, simon was easy to talk to. a lot of the time he was quiet, but his eyes never wavered from you, listening intently and humming where it mattered. he was fun, too — he recommended good movies, took you shopping while your father ran errands, taught you the best places to hit a man if one attacked you.

(a picture of simon, dramatically curled up in pain after you’d accidentally kicked him in the balls during a lesson now sits in your phone’s ‘favourites’ folder).

two weeks went by far too quickly, and before you knew it, your dad and simon were lugging your belongings up and into your dorm. not a single bag was left for you — you were tasked with the important duty of telling them what went where. when all was said and done, simon handed you a tiny piece of paper with a ten-digit number scrawled messily across it.

“in case you ever need me,” he explained, warm brown eyes peering at you beneath terribly long lashes. “i know your dad’s always there, but — just in case.”

then, he’d patted your head and squeezed your shoulder, murmuring a, “good luck, kid.”

and, though he was lovely to look at and talk with and exist around, you knew it would never be anything more. no matter how desperately a silly little part of you wished it. he spent time with you because he didn’t have anyone else. never had a daughter or a niece to spoil or playfight with. it was endearing, the way he interacted with you. wholesome and innocent and if that was all you’d ever get, you’d be happy.

— ∘♡༉∘ —

college was a lot. it was simultaneously the best and worst time of your life, passing by at both a snail’s and bullet’s pace. somehow, you ended up halfway through your final year. the holidays had rolled around, leaving you on a train, weaving over the tracks as you made your way back home.

in the years you’d been away, you’d kept in contact with simon. he joined your family for every holiday, and beyond that, you texted him often. sent him photos of your proudest grades, spirit days, or yummy meals. he’d even occasionally text you first, asking how your classes were going, if it was raining there like it was here, if you got home safe on the nights he knew you went out.

the landlord he’d rented his shitty apartment from ended up selling the place and simon had to relocate, finding a place only a few minutes from your dad’s. they loved to bug you, now — sending selfies and videos. to occupy themselves on their offtime, they’d opened a car repair shop together, and it only got worse.

you weren’t supposed to be home until tomorrow, but you were feeling homesick and your bags were already packed. before long, you were stepping out of a taxi, bags in hand, and ambling up to the shop.

the reception area was tiny, sweetly decorated for the holidays and playing some generic christmas station. leaning against the desk was soap, slyly flirting with the blushing woman behind it.

his eyes lit up upon seeing you. “the fuck’re you doin’ ‘ere, lass?” he questioned far too loudly. immediately, you shushed him, and he caught on. “ooh, i love surprises. they’re back in the garage, workin’ away. y’want me t’film it?”

giggling, you shook your head, accepting the quick side hug he gave you. when you slipped through the garage door — opening it bit by bit, never too quickly lest it creak, soap returned to the customer.

the garage was stocked with cars in disrepair and various parts you couldn’t name if your life depended on it. the stench of motor oil, cigar smoke, and antifreeze stung your nose as you made your way over, where simon was wheeled beneath a car, thick thighs flexed inside oil-stained jeans. your father was turned away from you, bent over a shoddy metal table table and observing an array of papers. an ancient radio sat next to them, croaking out a rock song from your childhood.

“one of these days, i’m gonna teach you to use spotify,” you called, voice bouncing off the cement walls and ceiling.

a bang proceeded your words, and in the same instant, your father turned around, exclaiming your name and wrapping you in the world’s tightest bear-hug.

“we were supposed to pick you up tomorrow!” he said, voice muffled to your ears beneath the suffocating squeeze of his arms.

“figured i’d surprise you,” you supplied, stepping back from his grasp once it loosened. immediately after, you were enveloped by simon, who stunk of grease, cheap cologne, and tobacco. you inhaled; it was lovely.

“my favourite college student,” he murmured into the top of your head. “how y’been, trouble?”

when you pulled away, a dark splotch caught your eye. a small but growing patch of blood stained the top of his balaclava, turning the black fabric a murky shade of brown.

“shit! you’re bleeding!” you yelped, stepping away from him and searching your surroundings — there wasn’t much for medical supplies in a garage.

beside you, your dad was laughing; a deep, wheezy sound. “did y’hit your head?”

simon grunted, shooting you a playful glare. “if college doesn’t work out, kid, y’ve got an easy spot on the one-four-one. you’re quiet as a mouse. scared the shit outta me.”

despite yourself, you snorted. “i’ll keep that in mind. d’you guys have any bandaids?”

“there’s some in the office. bottom drawer of my desk,” your father replied, voice tinged with amusement.

“thank you, dad. simon, come. i took a first-aid course in high school.”

obediently, simon followed, keeping just a step behind as you moved through the garage. from his table, john called, “we’re going out for dinner tonight, don’t make plans!”

“sir yes sir!”

simon and your father’s office was a small room just off the garage. carpeted, with off-white walls and dusty blinds letting in yellowish rays of sunlight. dusty photos hung from the wall; a few of you and your father; the 141; a german shepherd simon adored.

moving to the desk, you bent over and dug through the mountain of junk in the bottom drawer. the box of bandaids was shoved into the corner, bent and creased. simon copied your movements, rounding the desk and sitting on the worn desk chair.

“d’you know if you have anything to clean it with? hydrogen peroxide, saline, any kind of antiseptic?” you questioned, opening the drawer above it, which contained only invoices and a chequebook.

humming, simon stood, moving to the cabinet and pulling out a bottle of whiskey. at the roll of your eyes, he chuckled. “it works, doesn’t it?”

“i suppose it does,” you replied, collecting the fast food napkins you’d spotted while searching for the bandaids. then, after he’d sat once more, you softy placed your fingers at the bottom of simon’s balaclava. “may i?”

whenever simon’s eyes met yours, your breath hitched. every single time. whether it was because of that stupid crush that never went away or because his gaze were simply so intense, like an entire world existed within small pools of deep brown. pulling you in, drowning you. it was impossible to look away.

again, he hummed, granting you permission. gently, you rolled the fabric up, revealing his face inch by inch. this wouldn’t be the first time you’d seen his face — he spent far too much time around you to hide it. he still wore it more often than not, though, and every time he bothered to tug it off, it was like seeing it for the first time. roman nose, full lips, the scar across his brow, the prickly dusting of facial hair along his jaw. it was a shame he hated photographs — you’d frame it if you had any less sanity.

in your distraction, the tension had grown thick, humming in the silence of the room. clearing your throat, you took the whiskey from him, turning it over in your hands. “this stuff is shit.”

his face twisted. “how the hell d’you know what whiskey tastes like?”

snorting, you uncapped the bottle, and began to soak the corner of a napkin. “y’know, riley, i’ve been legal for a while now.”

his lip twitched, forming a crooked smile. “i know. it’s hard not to. y’keep growing. every time i see you, you’re . . .”

he trailed off. placing a gentle hand on his forehead, you tilted his head backward, and began to gently wipe at the cut. “i’m what?”

imperceptibly, he shook his head, careful not to jostle you. “more of a woman.”

you barked a laugh at that, and his smile grew. “more of a woman? what does that mean? i had tits when i met you, simon.”

simon rolled his eyes. “that’s not — what i meant. you’re . . . not a kid. you’re meaner now, for one.”

resuming the cleaning of his wound, you pouted. “mean? you wound me. maybe i’m just not scared of you anymore.”

“no, you’re not mean. always been a sweetheart.” his eyes fluttered shut beneath your ministrations. “you were scared of me?”

you giggled, and placed the bloodied napkin in the trash. then, you dug out a bandaid. “no, not really. nervous, maybe. intimidated.”

“is my handsome face really so daunting?”

this time, your laugh was lacklustre — he’d hit the nail straight on the head. “you’re bigfoot in a skull mask. before you spoke, i was a bit nervous.”

“but you’re not? now?”

peeling the parchment from the back of the bandaid, you met his gaze. “no. why would i be?”

this time, it was simon that looked away. you delicately placed the band-aid over the cut, before he said, “thank you, angel.”

you smiled, and, like you were drunk of the proximity of him, placed a quick, daring kiss to the band-aid. “if i wasn’t such a generous nurse, i’d say you owe me. you’re lucky.”

simon breathed laugh, and if you didn’t know better, you’d think the tops of his cheeks were pink. clenching and unclenching his jaw, he murmured, “lucky indeed.”

— ∘♡༉∘ —

in hindsight, believing your high school friends were capable of growing up was one of your less intelligent ideas. call it boredom or stupidity, but when a few of your old friends invited you out to the bar, you were compelled to accept.

it, unsurprisingly, went dreadfully. the first half of the night was fine — the first round of shots was purchased by one of the sweeter ones. you caught up over murky-coloured cocktails, swapping stories about your new lives and reminiscing over your old ones. the alcohol warmed your skin and loosened your limbs. the night went on and the amount of patrons doubled; you recognized a lot of them from old classes or bus rides or kindergarten friendships.

a boy from high school, one that hadn’t said a single nice thing to you in the entire four years, approached you with something that was supposed to be a smirk. you were polite at first, nodding along to his slurred words, exhaling when he attempted a joke. he dragged a hand over your thigh, and when you shifted away he easily followed. you excused yourself, muttering something about using the restroom, and he took it as an invitation.

“y’like it public, huh? never took you as the type,” he garbled, sliding off the barstool and following your movements. “i like whatever you like, baby.”

“no, i — actually need to pee,” you stated, glancing around the bar for your lost friends. he stared at you for a long minute, eyes narrowing.

“mm, fine. i’ll — i’ll pull up my car, we can head back to my place.”

“no, i—” you began, eyeing his sleazy grin and glazed-over leer. “i don’t want to go home with you. i’m not interested. i’m sorry.”

it takes a few moments for him to wrap his head around your words; each one spelled out across his face as it’s processed. finally, his expression twisted into a sneer.

“should’ve fuckin’ known not to waste my time with you,” he barked, unfocused eyes glaring daggers at you. “once a whore always a whore, huh?”

the most embarrassing part of this was the tears. you didn’t let him see them — too prideful to let them fall before you muttered a “fuck you,” and escaped out the side door.

the night air was freezing, twinged with the sharp bite of early winter. without a jacket or alcohol — you’d sobered up as soon as his hand touched your leg — to warm you, you were left hugging yourself, digging your phone out of your purse.

you could have sobbed when a red battery symbol lights up the screen, before flickering back off, dead. you just might have had you not spotted a pay-phone a few meters away.

there were only a few coins in your purse. had it not been kept for just-in-case situations like these, there would be none at all. shoving a few into the coin slot, you dial the number you’d had memorized from childhood.

it rang several times, wind whistling in your other ear, before your father’s voice stated, “sorry, can’t reach the phone. leave a message.”

a choked sound left your throat. what the hell were you supposed to do? most of your friends had split off into tiny sub-groups, and you were too ashamed to ask any of them for a ride. there was the option of asking a bartender to call a cab, though the idea of that was, for no real reason, profusely embarrassing. then, you remembered the one other phone number you’d memorized.

you don’t really know why — there was no reason for you to remember it, especially over any other phone number. yet, when he’d handed you that crumbled sheet of paper, your eyes had traced over the shapes of the numbers, and for some reason committed them to memory with no further effort.

whatever the reason was, you didn’t feel like questioning it. you were merely thankful you did. with cold fingertips, you pressed the digits into the payphone.

he picked up on the fourth ring. “who’s this?” was the greeting.

“it’s me,” you replied, and you barely were able to finish saying your name before he was cutting you off.

”what’s wrong? are you alright?”

huffing a quiet laugh, you said, “‘m fine, simon. i just—” you sighed, clutching the phone tighter in your hand. “i went out with my friends, an’ i—i’m just not having a good time. i tried to call my dad, but it’s past ten, so he’s passed out. i’m sorry—”

“where are you?” he asked, and there was a rustling in the background.

there were only a few bars in town—he knew immediately where this one was. “i’m on my way, i’ll be there in ten. are you in a safe spot, sweetheart?”

“i’m in a telephone booth. my phone died.”

“of course it did. would you be willing to go in an’ ask the bartender to use the phone?”

“no.”

“alright. okay. just stay on the line with me then, okay? d’you have any extra change, in case y’run outta minutes?”

”yeah. i should be good. i’m—listen, si, i’m really sorry—”

“if i hear that word come outta y’r mouth again we’re gonna have issues,” he said, and you laughed despite yourself. “‘m glad you called. now i’ll get t’see your pretty face.”

a girlish giggle sounded from your chest, and if it weren’t so damn cold, you might’ve been embarrassed. “i hate bars.”

“y’go to the wrong ones,” he replied. “one day i’ll take you out to one of my favourites. show you a decent drink.”

“my drinks are decent,” you argued. there was a whooshing sound on the line, and you panicked. “you’re not driving your motorcycle, are you?”

“didn’t have anything else with me,” he said. “y’got a problem with my harley, trouble?”

“your harley is a death machine.”

simon chuckled. “i’ll drive slow with you.”

“you should be driving slow now.”

another laugh. “i’ll be there in three.”

“simon!” you admonished. “you said ten!”

“that was four minutes ago.”

shaking your head, you said, “your lack of self-preservation should be studied.”

in the few seconds he took to reply, your teeth clacked together, and simon swiftly asked, “are you chattering?”

your lack of response served as one on its own, and he continued, “doll, what’re you wearing in this telephone booth?”

“um,” you started, chewing your bottom lip. “a skirt.”

“and a jacket?”

“uh.”

“christ,” he swore. “your lack of self-preservation should be studied. it’s not even 5° out.”

“jackets are a lot of work to carry around in a bar,” you argued, though you knew it was fruitless. “and i wasn’t really planning on spending any time in a telephone booth.”

“y’should always prepare for the worst,” he stated. “what if i hadn’t picked up, hm?”

“you always pick up.”

for a short moment, the other line was quiet, with only the quiet whoosh of the wind brushing past the speakers. then, “yeah, i do.”

the way he said it — so tenderly, like an admission — had any response dying on your tongue. your heart felt oddly warm, and didn’t quite know what to do with yourself, curling and uncurling the phone cord around your fingers.

“‘m here, trouble,” simon said, saving you from further awkward silence. a headlight glared against the glass of the phone booth, hallowing fingerprints and rain stains. squeaking out an, “okay,” you hung up the phone with a click and stepped out.

he was off his motorcycle already, immediately tugging off his jacket and wrapping it around your shoulders before pulling you against him.

“god, you’re a fuckin’ ice cube, sweetheart,” he said. he held you like that for a while, arms wrapped so tightly around your frame that you worried you’d morph into him. not that you minded — he was warm.

afterwards, simon cupped your cheeks, tilting your head upward as he examined you, as if you were ill or injured. furrowing his brow, he asked, “were you crying?”

you attempted to look away, ashamed, but in his grip it proved futile. “not much.”

“what happened?” he asked, and there was something in his voice, laced in the low rumble of it, that sounded threatening. it wasn’t meant for you, that was clear — he’d never direct anything hostile toward you. before he had even the barest idea of who or what made you cry, he was already furious at it.

“it’s nothing.”

“tell me,” he demanded. then, softer, “please. i just — need to know.”

moving your gaze from a far-off shape in the night towards his, you were unable to keep it from him. “i—this guy. i went to high school with him.”

a spark lit his gaze. “what’d he do?”

for a few breaths, you were quiet, trying to sort the words into something only mildly wrath-inducing. “he wanted, um, to take me home. i didn’t want to. he got upset.”

the spark caught, lighting his gaze into a furious blaze. even beneath the balaclava, you could see his jaw clench. he stepped away from you and set on a warpath toward the bar.

“simon—no,” you yelped, hurrying to catch up with him. it was a difficult task—your shoes weren’t comfortable and his long legs moved swiftly. finally, you caught his leather sleeve in your grasp. “don’t. please, don’t.”

at the sound of your voice, soft and warbled, he stopped, turning to face you once more, and whatever he saw on your face had his eyes softening.

“i don’t want to deal with him any more than i already have,” you said, staring up at him. “i just—i just want to leave. can we go to your house, please? i don’t want to be alone. i don’t want to think.”

the neon bar lights cast strange shadows across your frames, illuminating you in various bright colours as you stood, gazes caught in one another. simon seemed to fight with himself for a moment, fury and something far more tender battling for authority. the latter won out; he exhaled a long breath, hand cupping the back of your head and pulling you into him once more.

“let’s go, yeah?”

you nodded, following with your arm wrapped around his as he led you to the bike. attached to the back was an extra helmet, which he placed atop your head, adjusting it with a heady stare you couldn’t meet. the helmet smelled like pine and tobacco and vanilla and simon — it was everywhere, and you blissfully drowned in it.

when it was to his satisfaction, he tugged his gloves off and pulled them over your fingers. they were large and loose on you, and they were still warm from his skin. afterward, he pulled his own helmet back on, and held a hand out, helping you onto the back of the machine. large hands adjusted your hips, manhandling you into the right position, and it took everything in you not to make some sort of embarrassing squeak.

“okay,” he murmured, bent over your shoulder. “i’m gonna sit on the front here. you’ll have your arms wrapped around my torso, okay? and you’re not gonna let go, at all. yeah?”

you nodded. “mmhmm.”

“i need to hear your words, love.”

meeting his gaze for the briefest second, you repeated, “i won’t let go.”

“good. i won’t too fast with you, but if y’need me to pullover, just let me know, yeah?”

another nod, and this time he gave you a pointed look. “i’ll let you know,” you stated, lips just barely twitching.

with a gloved hand, simon pat your helmet and mounted the bike. after the briefest moment of hesitation, you wrapped your arms around his middle. even through the leather, he was warm; you couldn’t help but burrow a bit further into him. with merely a glance at simon, it was obvious he was built — far more than any other man you knew. to feel it beneath you, though, was an entirely separate thing. he was solid and unyielding but not harsh; a thin layer of fat kept him just soft enough.

“good girl,” he praised, patting the hands you’d entwined in front of his belly. you pressed your eager grin between his shoulders.

the motorcycle rumbled beneath you, and, slowly, he eased the gas, weaving through the tightly-crammed parking lot. just as he was about to exit the lot, he asked, above the exhaust, “you alright?”

“mmhmm,” you hummed, cheek pressed against leather. then, “yes.”

with that, he accelerated onto the road, joining the late-night traffic. the wind whistled in your ears and bit at your exposed legs; you pressed yourself further against him, and his back vibrated with the sound he made in acknowledgment. above, yellowish streetlights warmed the pavement and passing cars. gas stations and markets and various homes passed by in a colourful blur.

at a red light, while you sat still, simon’s hand came down, brushing over your knuckles in slow circles. the movement was featherlight and you wondered if it was unconscious — as soon as it flicked back to green, he moved the hand back to the handles without any acknowledgment.

the ride to his place was closer than it would have been to yours. simon lived in a small, red brick townhouse, far enough from downtown to be quiet, and close enough to access it without any hassle. he could afford better, though he opted for this because ‘it was all he needed.’ a stove to cook on, quiet neighbours, and a bed to sleep in — these were his only requirements.

steering the motorcycle beside the curb, he parked it there, and leaned backward into you. “how was that?” he asked. the world seemed strangely quiet without the hum of the engine.

“fast,” you said lamely, honestly. “not as bad as i thought, but i still prefer cars. they have walls. and heat.”

simon laughed, shaking his head. the sound echoed through his shoulders, which you were still pressed against. “when i get you a jacket i’ll make sure it’s heated.”

the idea of simon purchasing you a leather jacket to ride with him more often — it made your face heat up and your cheeks ache with a restrained grin. you were barely able to get yourself under control before he was sliding off the bike and offering a hand to you. even with his help, maneuvering your way off with mostly-numb legs was a difficult task. you just barely were able to land steady-footed on the pavement. as if simon knew this, he kept a hand on the small of your back as you walked up the steps to his home.

inside, it smelled like simon. pine, english breakfast tea, and something unique to him. the only thing missing was the stench of a cigarette; you knew he refused to smoke inside.

the decorations were minimal yet cozy; it was surprisingly neat. besides the pair he’d just kicked off, the shoes were lined up along the wall. you’d been inside very few times, and never long enough to observe. in the living room, the lamp was still on, bathing the room in warmth. there was a cup of tea on the coffee table, only a few sips left. beside it was a novel you didn’t recognize, dog-eared halfway through.

every detail felt important, like a glimpse into him. had the bar not left you feeling sticky and unkempt, you could have stayed here observing for hours. yet, your shirt felt suffocating across your chest, and the nape of your neck felt sweaty despite the earlier chill.

“um,” you began ungracefully. “do you mind if i use your shower? i feel . . . icky.”

his lips twitched at your choice of words, and he nodded. “yeah. lemme show you the bathroom, sweets.”

following him up the stairs, he directed you to the bathroom, pulling two towels out of his linen-closet. then, he said, “shower’s fuckin’ complicated. too fancy. lemme get it started for you.”

you watched as he ducked in, fiddling with buttons and knobs until steam danced over the glass doors. afterward, he looked back at you, peering at your figure. “that’s not very comfortable.”

you followed his gaze, glancing over your outfit. “well, no.”

he huffed. “i’ll get y’something of mine,” he stated, and made his way toward the door. “i’ll leave it on my bed, yeah? just down the hall. if y’need anything, sweetheart, just shout. i’ll be downstairs.”

giving a soft smile, you nodded and said, “okay. thank you, simon. really.”

“no need. i’d let y’live here if it meant never going to that fuckin’ shitehole again.”

“it wasn’t that bad of a bar.”

he gave you a dead-pan stare. “shite. hole.”

amused, you rolled your eyes, and pushed the door shut. on the other side, you heard a chuckle — the smile that bloomed on your face at the sound was unbidden.

it’d be a lie to say it didn’t feel strange to strip in simon’s house. the fact that only a few walls stood between you sent a strange thrill through you. it was in your best interest to ignore it — your heart and body had incredibly inappropriate reactions to the man, and tonight they seemed to be at an all time high.

he was being kind, nothing else.

once your clothes were peeled off and discarded on the tiled floor, you stepped into the shower. immediately, the warmth enveloped you, melting the tension out of your muscles and washing it away.

simon didn’t have much of a selection when it came to soaps. you were thankful he had a decent face wash, though — at least there were no three-in-ones.

the body wash smelled lovely — that dizzying, woodsy scent native to simon danced alongside the steam in the bathroom as you lathered it across your skin. though it was tempting to stay for longer, you didn’t want to waste too much of his water. you stepped out, and wrapped a shockingly soft towel around your abdomen.

the house was quiet when you stepped out of the restroom, clothes collected in your hands as you padded toward simon’s bedroom. this was the one room you hadn’t yet seen, though you could have predicted quite a bit of it. neat, minimal decorations. a king-sized bed because anything smaller wouldn’t fit him. folded atop were joggers and a sweatshirt.

it wasn’t a surprise you had to roll up the pant legs until they were ridiculously cuffed at the bottom. the sight of yourself in the mirror made you snort; you were drowning in simon’s clothes. butterflies swarmed your tummy, too—you were in his clothes, like you belonged to him. the train of thought was dangerous, you quickly looked away.

exiting his bedroom, you heard a quiet, continuous popping sound. padding down the stairs, you followed it into the kitchen where simon stood, collecting a bit of butter and a salt shaker.

though your steps were quiet, simon’s eyes were on you before you even stepped inside the room. his gaze swept your figure, dwarfed in his clothes, lingering just long enough for you to catch it before he was shifting it away, jaw twitching beneath his balaclava.

after a moment too long, he said, “hey, trouble.” his voice was low. “making popcorn. there’s tea.” he gestured with his chin to the counter where two mugs sat, one of which you’d gifted to him nearly three years ago now. a black cat was painted on the front, a grumpy expression wrinkling it’s little face (“it reminds me of you,” you’d said). in a significantly less interesting mug was your tea, several shades lighter than his black.

“thank you,” you murmured against the lip of the glass, wincing slightly when a sip burned your tongue.

“do you—” he began, taking the popcorn out of the microwave and pouring it into a bowl. “how’s a movie sound?”

you grinned. “it sounds lovely.”

“there’re dvds in the cupboard out there,” he explained, sifting the butter and salt through the popcorn. “take your pick.”

a snort. “why am i not surprised you still use dvds?”

simon raised a brow. “i spend half my life in barracks. netflix is a scam, love.”

“sure,” you said, grinning impishly. “grandpa.”

despite your teasing, his movie collection was vast. a lot of them you hadn’t heard of, though you picked out a familiar one, presenting him with your choice when he joined you in the living room.

“diehard, hm?” he gave a crooked smile. “tis the season, i suppose. you have good taste, sweetheart.”

“i know,” you stated proudly. “but you should keep complimenting me.”

simon huffed a laugh, and placed the disc in the dvd player. “i already feed your ego too much.”

making yourself comfortable on his couch, you agreed, “you really do.” then, when he procured a blanket and draped it across your lap, you snorted. “this isn’t helping.”

placing the popcorn between you, simon shoved a few pieces in his mouth, and said, “sorry, sweets. can’t help it.” his smile was lopsided and boyish, charming. the tv flickered on, basking the room in a blueish glow, before simon clicked ‘play’ on the movie.

together, you watched the opening scenes of the movie. a few jokes were muttered back and forth, but, other than that and the sounds of the film, it was quiet. the popcorn was delicious, lathered in an unhealthy amount of butter and salt, you shovelled it into your mouth.

the tea, too, was lovely. warm and sweet, and, combined with the comfort of simon’s presence, you were sleepily lulling back into the plush couch. with low eyelids, you tried to make yourself comfortable, manoeuvring your body this way and that. huffing, you stared down at the couch, searching for a decent position, when you spotted simon’s lap.

all muscled and soft, he’d make the perfect pillow. would he mind? you sincerely doubted he would. it was innocent, after all. you simply wanted to relax. the only one it might be awkward for was you, and if you could get past your stupid crush for a single hour, it’d be perfect.

after one more moment of doubt, you stretched yourself out and hesitantly laid your head on simon’s lap. beneath you, he tensed for a moment, and you just about thought you’d fucked everything up before he relaxed back into the couch. a large hand made a home on your back, running soothingly up and down your spine.

laying against simon like this — it was so peaceful. your mind hushed to a low hum as you nestled further into him, eyes trained on the screen. his fingers trailed upward, tracing a pattern on the nape of your neck and returning south.

the movie was entertaining, though you felt yourself slipping into sleep. occasionally, simon’s fingers would slip over a ticklish slip of skin, and you’d shiver, causing him to exhale a chuckle.

slowly, as your mind quieted, so did the sound of the film, until it was an unintelligible mumble. the world started and ended with simon’s thighs beneath your cheek, and his hand against your shoulders.

against your eyelids, the screen was bright, lighting them up uncomfortably. huffing sleepily, you pressed your face into simon’s lap, burrowing further in an attempt to make yourself comfortable. beneath you, something firm prodded against your cheek, and at once you were very awake.

simon, suddenly, stiffened. the hand on your back halted, fingers hovering over your skin before dropping away completely. “oh, fuck—christ, sweetheart, i’m so sorry. i’ll drive you home, okay? or—i’ll call a cab, if you’d rather that—”

“simon.” the word was firm enough to catch his attention, quieting him if only for a moment. your mind swam—a mess of confusion, lust, excitement, and need. when it proved too difficult to sift through, too impossible to cohere, you voiced the one word you could manage:

“please.”

though concealed by his balaclava, the reaction simon had was the clearest you’d ever seen. his breath hitched, chest rising and falling rapidly. his gaze, so dilated it was almost entirely black, narrowed on your face. it darted between your features, like he was searching for some sort of hidden meaning in your words, like he didn’t quite believe you.

in retaliation, your hand, trembling only slightly, came up and grazed the too-large tent in his trousers. immediately simon’s hand gripped your wrist, squeezing his eyes shut and inhaling sharply.

“kid—” he said then, and the word was wrapped in molten heat. it was gravelly in a way you’d never heard before, a rumble in his chest. goosebumps broke out along your skin. “don’t start something you’ll regret.”

“i’m not,” you stated bravely, daringly. you adjusted your position, only to face him better, and he did not let go of your wrist. you hoped he couldn’t feel the rapid thrum of your pulse beneath his thumb. “please, simon. i want this. i’ve wanted this.”

that snagged on something in his brain; caught his attention and held it. he stared at you, intense as ever. behind his gaze was a dilemma; a war you could only see traces of. after a few suffocatingly long moments spent beneath heavy tension, something won out, and the grip on your wrist loosened.

immediately, with years of want behind your touch, you grazed your hand over his clothed length once more. the breath in your chest stuttered when you grasped it, feeling just how big he was beneath your fingers.

a sound rumbled in simon’s chest; a groan of sorts. exploratorily, you tilted your head down, holding his burning gaze as you brushed your lips over his trousers.

“fuck,” simon cursed, hand grasping the back of your skull. he didn’t push or move you at all; he simply held it there, like he couldn’t bare to not be touching you himself.

the button of his trousers was difficult to undo with shaking hands, but you managed, pulling down his fly barely seconds after. with uneven breaths, you delved beneath the band of his briefs, pulling him up and out of the fabric.

the sight of simon’s cock was enough to get you off on it’s own; too thick for one of your hands to wrap around it, long enough that it bobbed against his shirt as you stared, too entranced for embarrassment. he was uncut, and there was a mound of curly, dirty-blond hair at the base, trimmed just enough to stay out of the way. you exhaled, breath ghosting along his length. the grip simon had on you tightened

again, you looked up at him. simon’s gaze was unwavering, as if looking away was some sin he was too pious to commit. it was then, as he gazed down at you with a burning gaze, that he seemed to read something in your expression. a pleading, a search for guidance. whatever it was, it had him speaking. “go ahead, sweet girl. get y’mouth on me.”

like his words triggered some sort of instinctual response in your body, your mouth was immediately moving. you licked a long, languid stripe from base to tip, revelling in the warm, salty taste. then, your lips wrapped around the head, suckling slightly before descending another inch.

“fuck,” he cursed again, hand moving in soothing circles against the back of your skull. “good fuckin’ girl. such a good listener, aren’t you?“

the words pulled a whimper from your throat. you released his dick for the briefest moment, a string of saliva connecting you, before wrapping your lips around him again, hollowed cheeks taking as much as you could manage. the fact that it was only half was disappointing.

“christ, angel. y’mouth is — heaven. fuck.” the choked sound of his voice only emphasized his point. when you made another noise, something between a whimper and a whine, he chuckled, and said, “like me talking to you like that? telling you how good you are? fuck, y’re so sweet. my sweet girl.”

moaning against him, you attempted to take more. betrayed by your gag reflex, you pulled back, choking, eyes glistening with tears.

simon cooed, hands cupping your jaw and thumb brushing over your cheek, wiping away a tear that’d escaped. “oh, angel, y’don’t need to take so much so fast. you’re doing so well. lemme show you. is that okay? can i help you?”

swallowing the excess drool in your mouth, you nodded, and his eyes crinkled with a smile. then, he was pulling his balaclava up, the seam stretched over his nose as he pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“words, love.” though his voice was soft, it was a command. “thought i taught you this already.”

“please,” you whispered. “show me how,” his face was close enough to see the thin wrinkles around his eyes, the soft dusting of a five o’clock shadow over his jaw. “wanna make you feel good.”

simon’s lips curved before they pressed against yours, all gentle and soft like you’d break if he were any rougher. it was inebriating to be treated so reverently, hands holding your jaw like you were something precious. simon made you feel like you were.

his lips moved languidly. he took control of it easily, guiding your lips with his own. he didn’t escalate it, didn’t shove his tongue into your mouth like so many other boys had. he kissed like he found pleasure in this alone.

arms tangling around his neck, you gently ran your nails over the nape of his neck, where fabric met skin. simon groaned, softly nipping at your bottom lip. you giggled.

as much as you adored this — you’d kiss simon for hours if he’d let you — you were getting impatient. you’d gotten a taste for him, and you were quickly becoming addicted.

when you pulled away, he let you, stare darting between your kiss-swollen lips and glazed-over eyes. he watched your gaze trail back down to his crotch, and chuckled quietly.

“eager thing, aren’t you?” he questioned, leaning in to press one last kiss to the corner of your mouth. “go ahead, trouble.”

you didn’t need to be told twice — keeping your head on his lap, you laid out on your belly, across the couch. his hand found your head again, and this time, he gently guided you forward, allowing your lips to find his cock once more.

“that’s it, love,” he murmured. he had you stay like that for a while, suckling contentedly on the head and lapping your tongue over his slit.

“if y’need to come up for air, tap my thigh, alright?” he instructed. you nodded, before correcting yourself, allowing him to slip from your mouth only to voice, “okay.”

simon exhaled, the sound shaking towards the end as your long laved the underside of the head. “good fuckin’ girl.”

though you’d blown guys before, this — simon — was different. something about him, his scent or the sound of his voice or simply his presence, created a haze that had your mind going cloudy. with your lips wrapped tightly around his cock, your world started and ended with simon riley.

little by little, he inched you down his cock. never too quick and never too much. in that moment, he seemed to know your body better than you. always stopping just before your gag reflex was triggered, just before your limit was reached.

“look at you, breathing outta your nose. you’re a natural.”

your breathy moan vibrated against simon’s cock; his thighs tensed, though he didn’t buck his hips or push you down. he continued his languid pace, inching you down only when you could handle it.

“so good,” he muttered. at this point you’d taken more than half of of him. breathing steadily out of your nose, you used a spare hand to grip the remaining length, pumping it in time with your mouth. “fuck. ah, angel, ‘m gonna cum if you keep tha’ up.”

spurred on, you hollowed your cheeks and took another inch, blinking away tears. his pelvis barely a few centimeters from your nose, now, and with one last deep breath, you swallowed back the rest of his cock.

“fucking christ—!” simon swore, pulling you off of him as gently as he could manage. you sputtered, coughing and sniffling as tears ran freely from your eyes.

“oh, none of that now, love,” he cooed, big hands cradling your jaw as he kissed away your tears.

“did i do something wrong?” you asked. your voice was raw.

“no, no. of course not, love. you could never do anything wrong,” he stated, pressing a lingering kiss to your hairline. then, he chuckled, warm breath ghosting along your skin. “‘m not as young as i used to be, pretty girl. ‘n if i’m finishing tonight, i want it to be in this sweet cunt.” to make his point, he cupped you over your panties, which had become embarrassingly wet over the last bit. sensitive, you whimpered, curling further into him and grinding down. “how’s that sound, hm? y’gonna let me fill y’up?”

vehemently, you nod, gripping the wrist that’d snuck up your skirt for support. “please. yeah, yeah. i want that, si.”

with shaking hands, you gripped the bottom of your top in an attempt to yank it off. swiftly, simon stopped you, one hand large enough to catch the both of yours. “mm-mm. if ‘m gonna fuck you, ‘m gonna do it proper. y’deserve better than a shitty couch, dove.”

in the next breath, you were swept up into simon’s arms, legs wrapped tightly around his torso. a high-pitched squeak escaped you and tapered into a laugh as he carried you up the stairs, towards his bedroom.

“such a gentleman,” you joked, toying with the collar of his shirt.

“i try’,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your palm when it cupped his jaw.

after closing the door behind him, simon gently dropped you on the bed. you giggled as you bounced, bracing yourself on your elbows and looking up at him. for a moment, simon stood, gaze locked on your frame, fists clenching and unclenching at his sides.

“fucking hell,” he cursed, finally. “you’re a dream.”

“a dream?” you echoed, grin simpering into a smirk. “y’been dreamin’ about me, riley?”

in a single, fluid motion, simon tugged his shirt off. he was a mass of muscle, age just barely softening his edges. tattoos ran up his arms and across most of his chest, where hair the same shade as his happy trail grew.

“‘course i have,” he answered, like it was obvious. then, he kicked off his slippers and fit himself between your legs, arms bracing himself just inches above you. “making me act like a fucking teenager again, wakin’ up to wet boxers.”

the thought of simon having wet dreams about you made your head spin. dumbly, you blinked up at him, and found yourself unimpressed with the balaclava still covering the upper-half of his face.

“can i?” you asked, voice quiet enough you wondered if he’d even be able to hear it. his small smile, though, gave him away. he nodded.

little by little, you rolled the offending material upward, revealing every mesmerizing inch of his face. tossing it to the side, you took a long moment to admire him: the long blond lashes, the sloping scars, the light spattering of freckles, his crooked nose.

��y’so pretty,” you stated, honestly. rose blossomed across his cheeks and nose, leaving you with a wide grin. simon pressed a kiss behind your ear, though you had a sneaking suspicion it was to hide his face.

“think that’s supposed t’be my line, love,” simon replied, gently nipping your throat. as you giggled, he continued downward, kisses growing sloppier as they reached your collarbones. then, he pulled back, fingers slipping over the hem of your shirt. he met your gaze for a brief second, searching for the permission you’d always give him, and tugged it off.

left in only the lacy scrap the lingerie shop deemed a bra, simon stated openly at you. this time, it was your turn to squirm, hands instinctively reaching to hide your face. easily, he caught your wrists.

“no. no. i wanna see you,” he said, squeezing your arms once. “cover your face and i stop, alright?”

huffing, you kept your hands at your side, and he twitched his lips. afterward, he smoothed large hands across your skin, over your stomach and ribs, cupping your chest. “so gorgeous.” he squeezed. “fuckin’ hate the idea of you going out in somethin’ like this when i’m not with you. no more. if y’wearin’ this, it’s for me, yeah? no one else.”

biting your lip, you nodded, not trusting your voice enough to speak. simon disagreed with your decision, seeing as he pinched your side. “no one else,” you affirmed.

“good girl.” he drew out the words, eyes trained on your chest, before he was reaching behind and unclamping your bra with his fingers. sliding it off, he tossed it haphazardly into the growing pile of clothes on his floor.

simon wasted no time in resuming his assault on your skin, leaving a kiss here and a bite there. he swirled his tongue over your tits, paying special attention to your nipples, playing with one while he had his mouth on the other. little marks littered your saliva-soaked skin when he reached the top of your skirt.

one more glance at you and he was tugging it down, along with the flimsy nylons you’d worn. swiftly, he pressed an open-mouthed kissed to your cloth-covered cunt, easily keeping your hips down when they tried to buck.

the air was cold against your soaked cunt when he peeled back the fabric, pulling it over your ankles and discarding it on the floor. as had become his habit, simon took a moment to admire you. eyes blazing and turning the skin beneath it warm. your hands fisted the blankets as you resisted the urge to cover up.

“so pretty,” he said, moving backward down the bed and climbing off it. then, he tugged you with him, earning a tiny yelp, before kneeling at the end of it. “wanted t’taste you for fucking ever. y’gonna let me, sweetheart? hm? you gonna let me taste your sweet cunt?”

nodding, you squeezed your eyes shut and breathed, “please, simon.”

his fingers, warm and steady, trailed up your thighs, pulling a shiver from you. “spread your legs a little wider for me, baby. there y’go. good.” then, slowly, they inched towards your centre, spreading you open. you didn’t have to look to know he was staring.

all at once, his tongue was on you, licking a long stripe up your folds and over your clit. you moaned embarrassingly loudly, trailing off into a long whine when he didn’t let up. your fingers knitted themselves in his blond waves, tugging as gently as you could manage. he groaned in approval, the sound vibrating through your cunt and sending your back arching.

“fuck! simon,” you yelped. his hands held your legs apart when they attempted to close, overwhelmed by pleasure.

he slipped away from your heat only to say, “keep sayin’ my name.”

whining, you pushed his head back into you, and he chuckled, resuming his ministrations on your cunt. simon was talented with his tongue — something jealous burned you at the thought of how he got so good. the thought was quickly scrubbed from your brain, though, when he flicked the tip of his tongue over your clit, circling it once, twice, before descending again.

“please,” you whined, though you didn’t know what you were asking for. his pace had slowed, now, sloppily making out with your cunt like it was something he could worship. “simon . . . ”

the pleasure was inescapable; your body was torn between grinding down on his mouth and trying to wriggle away from it. it didn’t help that he was doing it so leisurely; tongue moving languidly through your folds and over your clit like it was for his pleasure instead of yours. that thought got you off all the more.

your legs trembled, winding around simon’s head and damn near suffocating him — not that he cared. when you glanced down, he was watching you, nose shiny as it brushed against your clit. simon smirked — you could feel the movement against you.

had you been in any other state, the sound you made as you tumbled over the edge might have embarrassed you. as it was, though, you didn’t have the mind for anything other than pleasure as your back bowed off the bed and your legs tightened around simon’s skull.

he was saying something — you only understood bits of it, but it sounded like a mindless litany of praise. “there you are, there we go. so good, so fucking good.”

he paired each praise with a kiss to your cunt until you were trembling from overstimulation, just pushing past the edge of too much. simon climbed up the bed and pressed wet kisses across your face; when he licked into your mouth and you tasted yourself, you moaned.

“you’re a fuckin’ vision, sweetheart. never knew you’d cum so pretty. y’gonna let me see it again? hm? y’gonna let me fuck you, baby?”

you were nodding before the words were even out of his mouth, snaking your arms around his neck and kissing him deeply. without breaking it for longer than a few seconds, simon moved the two of you further up the bed until your head rested against his surprisingly soft pillows.

simon groaned appreciatively when your nails scraped against his skull. you grinned, and breathed, “you like pain just as much as me.”

simon chuckled, biting your chin. “maybe. when it’s you.”

“what was that you said earlier? something ‘bout feeding my ego?”

another laugh, and he joked, “i’m too far gone, now, i think. i’m just here to serve.”

“prove it.” your lips curved into a lust-drunk smile. “fuck me.”

with one last peck against your lips, simon smirked, and said, “yes ma’am.”

he leaned over you, then, tugging open the creaky drawer to his bedside table and fishing around. “shit.”

“hm?” you hummed, following his gaze to the foil packet between his fingers.

“‘s fuckin’ expired.” simon’s brow furrowed, and he brought the packet closer, squinting. you grabbed it from him, tossing it on the floor.

“i don’t care,” you said, probably stupidly, but the thought of not fucking simon right now had something foul twisting in your belly. “want you.”

running broad hands over your legs, simon gazed down at you, like your expression would say otherwise. you rolled your eyes. “i’m clean. i’m assuming you’re clean, if your condoms are expired.” simon pinched your side, and you giggled. ”please? want you to fuck me, simon.”

simon exhaled, and shook his head, smirking. “yeah?” he asked, fingers trailing over your belly. “y’want me to fuck you? cum in this little cunt?”

“yeah, yeah. please. want that.”

his lips press against yours again, hands continuing their journey downward until he was exploring your sensitive folds. you whimpered, quietly, but simon caught the sound and tutted. “i know, sweets. but i’ve gotta stretch you. don’t wanna hurt you, right? not tonight.”

lubing his fingers up with your slick, he started with his middle, circling your hole before slowly pushing inward. your earlier orgasm had relaxed you already, and he was able to add a second in no time. he explored for a moment, pumping his fingers in and out, curling them upward until he found that spongy spot that had your head rolling back in pleasure.

“there it is,” he said, and though your eyes were squeezed shut, you felt his smirk against your skin; heard it in his voice. “that feel good, pretty?”

the answering nod you gave was shaky and sudden, hands gripping onto his forearm for dear life. “fuck me, si. please—want your cock.”

“i know, i know. one more finger, how about that? then we can give you what you need.”

with a groan, you nodded, and sent him a short glare. he snorted, and muttered, “so impatient.”

“been waiting for fucking years,” you argued, though your point might’ve been lost in the quiver of your voice. “‘m allowed to be a little impatient.”

“years, hm?” his third finger prodded at your entrance. “guess i should hurry, then. poor thing.”

the way you dug your nails into his skin was both in pleasure and retaliation. three thick fingers pumped slowly in and out of you, curling in a way that had your thighs shaking.

finally, he slipped the fingers from you, the whine you gave turning into a moan when he plunged them into his mouth instead, savouring every bit of you. “so fuckin’ sweet.”

when simon’s fat tip ran through your folds, you tensed, and questioned if three fingers would really be enough. “simon . . . ”

though his voice was strained, he stopped, glancing up at you. “yeah, sweetheart?”

“i don’t—” his tip ran over your clit ”—fuck, i don’t know if you’ll fit.”

simon tsked, the hand not controlling his cock coming up to brush the hair out of your face. “don’t gimme that, sweets. you can take it, i know you can.” he kissed your jaw. “i’ll make it fit, yeah? how’s that?”

shakily, you exhaled, meeting his gaze. truly, you didn’t know if it’d wavered from your face all night. his eyes were so sure — you could do nothing but believe him. it’d fit. you nodded.

“yeah, yeah. there’s my girl.” again, his lips were on yours, tongue licking into your mouth. minty toothpaste, tea, and cigarettes overwhelmed your senses as his thick tip pushed inside, swallowing every moan you gave.

when he’d made it a few inches, simon pulled back. “how’s that?” he questioned. “y’okay, lovey? want me to keep going?”

you couldn’t nod fast enough. there was a bit of pain, but the pleasure of the stretch won out easily. tangling your hands in his hair, you yanked simon back down for a long, messy kiss. really, it was more so a clash of teeth and tongue and heavy breathing than a kiss, but you digress.

by the time simon was fully sheathed inside you, it felt like he was in your fucking lungs. he gave you as much time as you needed to adjust, though the way his fists clenched and unclenched beside your head proved how greatly he wanted to move. digging one of the legs wrapped around him further into his skin, you urged him to.

“fucking christ,” he groaned. simon dropped his head for a moment, hot breath fanning over your neck as he slowly rocked in and out. “y’so fucking tight.”

“m’not tight, you’re just huge,” you argued, a furrow in your brow. simon bit the juncture between your throat and shoulder—you giggled, the sound delirious.

propping himself up on his forearms once more, simon slowly pulled out, leaving only his tip inside of you, before swiftly thrusting back in, setting a harsh, steady pace.

little high-pitched sounds came from your chest with every thrust, cock abusing that spongy spot inside you that lit fireworks behind your eyelids. with the way you were clawing at his back, you’d be surprised if simon didn’t look like he was mauled by a wildcat tomorrow.

“so good. gripping me like a fuckin’ vice. swear it was like you were made for me,” he breathed, teeth grazing over your ear.

sense had long since left you — you only nodded, murmuring back, “for you, f’you.”

maybe the way his cock kissed your cervix would have you cursing tomorrow, maybe the way your back bowed with pleasured tension would have you hunching over in the morning — you didn’t care. right now, your world consisted of simon’s searing brown eyes and the toe-curling pleasure he supplied.

“feels so good.” your words were breathy, punctuated with a tug to his hair.

“yeah?” he questioned, smiling lopsidedly. “good. gonna fucking ruin you. you’ll never be able to take another cock without thinking of me—thinking of how good i made you feel.”

shaking your head, you whines, “no. no one else. only you.”

simon growled, thrusting especially hard as he licked and sucked at your throat. “yeah. you’re mine, aren’t you? my girl.”

“yours,” you nodded. “‘m yours, f’rever.”

simon groaned out a slew of curses, cock twitching inside of you. one hand reached down toy with your clit, making quick, slippery circles. “want you to cum again, baby. ‘m not gonna last much longer and — fuck — i need t’see it again.”

you’d already been dancing along the edge — his thick fingers and raspy words were a harsh push, leaving you dangling by one hand.

your eyes rolled back into your head, and his other hand was swiftly gripping your chin, gently shaking you. “on me, love, keep y’r eyes on me.”

with great effort, you kept your hazy gaze on his face, which was twisted in the effort to stave off his orgasm. you whimpered, and murmured, “say it again. say i’m yours. please.”

“oh, sweetheart,” he groaned, head dipping into the crook of your neck for a moment before finding your eyes again. “you’re mine, ain’t ya? my sweet girl. yeah. an’ i’m yours — always will be.”

the second the words left his mouth, you tumbled over the edge. your entire body shook, curving inward and wrapping itself around simon like it was trying to burrow inside him. in the haze of it, you heard simon shout, before warmth was spilling inside your cunt, filling you up to the fucking brim. if simon wasn’t simon, you were sure the grip you had on him would’ve broken something by now.

when you came back to, the world was quiet — soft breathing echoed through your ears, his and yours indistinguishable from each other. simon’s head was buried in your neck, the weight of him just bridging the edge of uncomfortable. it was bliss.

eventually, he rolled over, cock pulling out with an equally disgusting and enticing squelch. his spend leaked out of you, dirtying his sheets. neither of you minded, it seemed — he easily pulled you across his chest, pressing his lips to your warm forehead.

“y’with me, lovie?” his voice was barely more than a murmur.

you hummed, hand moving upward to trace over his sweat-soaked chest. “i think so.”

a quiet laugh vibrated in his chest, breath dancing across your face. you smiled in turn, crooking your neck to gaze at him. keeping in theme with the rest of the night, simon was already staring at you — his eyes seemed to shine when they found yours, and his lips curled up in a rare smile. you were met with the embarrassing urge to take a picture.

“you’re a mess,” he stated, chuckling quietly as his eyes darted across your face and body.

narrowing your eyes, you pinched his pec, and his chuckle became a laugh. “a beautiful mess, sweetheart. ‘s the prettiest you’ve ever looked, i promise.”

you rolled your eyes, and argued, “‘s your fault.” then, attempted to sit up — though his strong grip on your shoulder kept you down. simon frowned. “where d’you think you’re going?”

“i need to pee,” you stated, and he let you up with a huff. “then i need to fucking shower, again.”

simon made a sound. “how ‘bout i run you a bath, hm? lemme do the work.”

smiling softly, you glanced back at him. he took your hand that lingered on his chest and brought it to his mouth, pressing kisses over your knuckles. “that’d be lovely.”

simon stood, and when you looked over him, you smiled. hair mussed, lips swollen, skin glazed in sweat — he was just as much of a mess as you. in a single movement, simon swept you into his arms. with a yelp, you clung to him, and he carried you, bridal-style, into the bathroom.

placing you on the lip of the bathtub, simon left for only a moment to dig through his linen closet, and returned with a wash cloth. after running it under warm water in the sink, he helped you up once more and gently ran it between your legs.

afterward, while you used the restroom, simon ran the bath, using that intoxicating body-wash as bubble bath. spotting his back, which was covered in bright-red scratches, you giggled, feeling only a little bad.

“i’d say sorry for y’back, but really i look no better,” you stated. hickies and bite-marks littered your skin, decorating your neck, chest, and thighs.

snorting, simon moved to look in the mirror, eyes tracing the pinkish abrasions trailing from shoulders to spine. “i’ll wear ‘em with pride.”

once the tub had filled, steam dancing around the mound of bubbles, simon, again, helped you up. his skin was warm, and if the bath wasn’t so enticing, you’d be tempted to stay here, pressed against him.

easily, he lifted you up and into the bath, following you not long afterward. it was a shock he could fit all of his limbs in the tub, even moreso when you could fit between his legs. it was a bit squishy, but you couldn’t have traded it for anything — laying against his chest while his hands ran up and down your body. thighs, stomach, chest, arms — he touched you softly, reverently, lips pressing behind your ear.

“did you mean it?” you asked. the quiet hum of your voice seemed loud in the silence of the room.

“mean what, love?”

swallowing, you played with his fingers, and supplied, “that ‘m yours. that you’re mine.”

simon exhaled, and you could feel the small curve of his lips against the back of your neck. “i meant it.”

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starsexplodeatnight · 3 months

Text

Cod Guys x Reader!

~First time you’re intimate~

Minors do not engage! You are not fucking wanted here! Go be a kid while you still can! You’ll have 30 chasing at your heels before you know it.

I always start with Price:

3 months into your relationship

M’fucker puts on divorced dad rock. Because he’s not had a lot of time for romance in the past- er decade or so- shut up. He’s a bit… rusty? No, his moves are solid. He’s just a bit of a time capsule from when he was in his twenties and Mr smooth.

What do you mean ‘Hinders’ Lips of an Angel is ‘divorced dad rock’ what the hell’s that mean?

He’ll have planned this sweet, romantic, night for the both of you. He made dinner, look at him: he’s a provider. You try not to laugh but, it’s cute how he’s trying and in a way? He’s succeeding.

Just because you’re onto his tricks doesn’t mean they’re not working.

Then, he puts on his ‘mood music’ he used to put on in the past when he was romancing the ~ladies~ and oh- your lips purse in your best attempt at not giggling. He’s being so cute and you don’t want to pop his bubble.

He sees it though, as he hands you a glass of wine. “Somethin’ wrong bird?” His confidence is there, a little smirk. He wants to know what’s so funny. You shake your head, eyes cast to the side, as you take a sip of wine.

“Mmmmm- nothing, nothing.” He chuckles and sits down next to you, still acting so smooth. “Come on, out with it luv.” And he leans in close.

He’s so handsome…

Then ‘Let her cry’ by Hootie and the Blowfish comes on and you nearly shoot wine out your nose, turning away from him, choking as you try not to laugh.

He, surprised, helps you calm down, patting your back to help you as you cough. “What’s the matter with you? You makin’ fun of me luv?” He cooed, rubbing your cheek with his thumb. You’re embarrassed with yourself. “Oh John… this is so sweet, very romantic.”

“But?” “You need to turn off the divorced dad rock sweet pea, I’m so sorry.” You say with an apologetic wince. “Divorce dad rock? I-“ He looks at his speakers, then back at you. “The bloody hell is that?”

“Nothing we need to discuss right now.” And you reach over, turning it off yourself. He shook his head, “s’long as you’re happy luv.” And he leans in, pressing his nose against yours as he gives you a sweet kiss. Simultaneously pushing you back to lay against the couch….

Next is Soap!:

This dork is smooth, it’s not fair.

Rough housing after you two come home from a cute dinner date, he’s got you by the waist from behind. He’s giving your neck those dramatic kisses, that are so fucking ticklish. You two are so giggly and stupid and you! And neither of you are even drunk… just… happy.

Both of you pause, his chest against your back as you both try and breathe. Get air back in your lungs…. His face tucks in your neck, both of you staring off into space. Both thinking about the same thing but both waiting for the other to say something first.

It’s been about 1 month of dating and you’d both hadn’t done anything yet, just getting to know each other before anything sexual happened. And it’s been *fun.*

He starts the kisses on your neck again, a lot less dramatic and much more sensual. His arms still locked ‘round your waist.

“S’this okay?” You melt a bit into his arms. “Yes.”

He groans, breathing in deeply and gave your ass a deep strong hump that completely jolts you forward. That made your face so fucking hot.

He puts on ‘your body is a wonderland’ by John Mayer and unlike Price? It works. He’s just- it works! It’s cheesy but, unlike Price who’s trying to have a deep, romantic, moment and chose wrong. Soap is giggly, playful and cheeky during sex.

He’s only ‘serious’ when he’s not in a good headspace, like after a long grueling mission… the rest of the time?it’s so giggly and stupid.

Gaz my darling!:

It’s a curated experience that makes you feel like a princess…. With an impending feeling of being the princess of a porn flick.

Because! As romantic, sweet and charming as he is: he’s still a cheeky fucking shit. Boyish charming and sexy aren’t supposed to mix! … right!?

When you two talk about taking the next step and having sex? He grins his pretty grin and bites his lip before kissing your cheek and darting off to ‘plan’

“Wear something pretty luv’” He called to tell you. The look on his face when you do show up dressed all pretty? You’d think you’d hung the stars in the sky…

Hands you flowers, said he got them from this sweet shop his Captain’s wife works at. They’re beautiful… so much thought and care…

That’s what happens the entire night. So much thought and care and effort has been put into this that it makes you teary eyed. He orders for you at the restaurant, orders something from the pastry case to take home and god-

You get back to your apartment and, it’s lit up with fairy lights. He doesn’t do the typical roses and candles, no. Fairy lights, diffuser with warm vanilla and champagne- yeah it’s time to be sweet on him. You’d think he was going to propose or something!!!

Partners give and take. He romanced the hell out of you and made you feel special? Your turn now. He’s going to take everything you give him, even if he’s trembling.

“Love you Kyle.” “Love you too lovie…”

Classical covers of pop songs in the back… it’s romantic and sweet not too giggly not too serious…

Ghost!:

As much as much as Mr Big and Bad wants to pound your ass into the mattress and crack the wall with your headboard? He… he has issues lovie.

He takes the longest to have sex. Why? His trauma. One second he’s horny as hell rabbiting his hips into your butt then the other he does NOT feel like being touched. He feels bad, feels like he’s cheating you out of something but… how can he apologize for something out of his control?

You two have a talk about it because Simon, as much as he hates talking? He doesn’t want to lose a sweetie like you so he grunts out a few words to explain himself. You piece it together and well, what kind of partner would you be if you didn’t have his best interests at heart.

You understand. This man has trudged through hell over broken glass with no shoes. You can handle yourself in private moments until he’s worked through his problems. As long as he promises to work on them. No more dragging his feet in hesitation.

He needs to work on himself, the thought of being able to take that step with you? That helps. He doesn’t tell his therapist that even when the therapist asks him why he’s suddenly taking this seriously and booking appointments properly instead of going to just the mandatory monthly.

He waits until you’re having fun one night, he can hear the ‘bzzz’ of the toy and he creeps in the room. Lays on the bed on his belly between your legs and takes it away from you. Sets it aside. “This okay?”

Oh, it’s more than okay.

The kids in your preschool ask you why you’re limping. Oh look! Uh- we’re finger painting today!

Another one for inappropriate music choice except he doesn’t change it. He tries to nail you to the beat of ‘in the end’ by Linkin Park… he takes you up on your challenge and says yeah? I can change your mind!

#call of duty #cod x reader #john price x reader #tf141 x reader #call of duty x reader #john mactavish x reader #john price #kyle garrick x reader #simon riley x reader #task force 141 #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #kyle gaz garrick

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inncubus-honey · 3 months

Text

s/o with a snort laugh- cod

as someone with a snort laugh, there are times where I'm insecure about it, but the other half is I don't care and im just living with it. so here's to all people with snort laughs!

price:

its like a gift from heaven itself; its johns favorite quirk of yours. he loves hearing it from the common room as you snort with breathy laughs because of simons dry dad jokes. or from soap shouting, gibberish at gaz hiding his chipped, pink mug that he uses daily for coffee.��

after a long mission in the heil, johns chest builds up with warmth at the sound of you giving small snorts as gaz snored on simons shoulder with soap snoring on his other shoulder. you could tell by simons eyes that he was scowling underneath his mask.

———

price found comfort in the dorkiness of your laugh while at times, you had said you hated your laugh. but it reminded him of everything human outside of war, death and everything y’all see on the battlefield. its so you to him and he wouldnt have it any other way.

gaz:

hes the kind of guy to make you laugh harder in order for your snorts to continue. he’ll look up the all classic, cheesy pickup lines in order to start a laughing fit for you. he takes a minute to watch you with the biggest warm, chocolate brown eyes as you covered your mouth to cover up the smalls sounds that left your lips. just searing your laugh and little snorts to memory as you grab your stomach to catch your breath.

———

gaz has a recording of you laughing at a stupid dad joke of his during a dinner date at your apartment. he plugs in earbuds and plays the video whenever hes really missing you or he has a moment alone. gaz has fallen asleep to that recording more times he could possibly count during deployments; its his comfort in the chaos of military work.

ghost:

his eyes are already always trained on you ever since yall got together. at the barracks, on the heli before the drop off point, at all points on the mission, at a bar after a mission; simons eyes are watching you at every moment. whenever he cracks a stupid dad joke after a mission at the bar, your snorts carries its way to his ears and he feels all tension leave his body. copper eyes softened as he watched your body shake as gaz groaned in the background while soap smirked after telling a dad joke. he felt complete whenever he heard your laugh, like everything connected in place in his mind.

———

simon held your warmer body close to his as yall laid under the covers in your shared apartment. watching your slowly stirring figure, a small smile tugged at his lips when your eyes finally opened and met his. upon seeing simon watching you, a small snort left you as embarrassment flushed your face. simon joined you underneath which caused more snorts to leave your lips as he nuzzled into your face.

soap:

your snorts make him snort whenever you laugh ever. yall hold on each other as you both keep letting out little snorts which yall both laugh harder and the cycle continues. all he has to do is say one word for y'all to keep laughing and snorts escaping in your wheezy laughter. as soap took a deep breath and baby blue eyes traveled over to you, his breath caught in his throat as he saw how angelic you looked as cute sounds escaped your lips.

———

he brought your lips upon his as the only thing he could think about was feeling you against him. you’re too beautiful not to kiss in the moment, soap thinks to himself as you relaxed into the kiss. you had been surprised when he pulled you into it earlier. but you wrap your arms around his neck with his hand tangled into your hair as harsh breaths left his nose. soap could only hope and pray to whatever god was listening that he can keep you in his arms forever, that you find comfort in them forever and whenever you need it.

keegan:

he swears he hates the sound of your snorts whenever he walks by the common room to see you laughing with logan and ajax on the couch. but the minute he's in his room, alone, its the only thing playing on repeat in his mind. sometimes he wishes he could wake up to that sound; that he could turn over in bed and see you laying with him as you giggle at something on your phone.

———

quietly keegan approached you as he was getting ready to take his turn for the night watch. logan and ajax were sleeping for their turn. walking up to where you sat on the watchtower, your rifle sat on your lap as you watched carefully, he sat down next to you and watched as you. just in your element of being on the mission…you being you which caused keegan to have those same flustered feelings from before to shoot throughout his chest. keegan thought of a joke that ajax told him earlier and decided to try it out on you.

upon telling you the joke, small snorts left your lips as you tried to cover your mouth so as not to give yourselves away. keegan gives small laughs at the sound of your laughing, soon dying in his chest when the clouds parted in the sky to reveal moonlight down onto you. your figure was graced with shining light as your snorts soon died down as well; keegan saw everything with you from such a lovely sound.

alex:

knowing this man, he would be a mix of price and soap. where he would bask in the warm feeling your laugh provides for him while on the other hand he would keep telling you jokes to keep hearing your snorts. alex would have a smirk upon his face as he just calmly told you jokes and your snorts continued leaving your lips, lovelying watching you as you covered your mouth with your hand. anytime someone tries to say something about your snorts, alex calmly brings them into another room and threatens them within an inch of their life.

———

not so gently alex harshly grasped the recruits arm as he dragged them into an empty spot near the mess hall. throw them inside, alex marched up close to the and bore into their soul. he told them that he ever them or anyone call your cute snorts, ‘a pig laugh’, he wouldn't hesitate to have them run 100 laps outside or clean the armory top to bottom. alex felt fire in his veins after the recruit made the comment and made your face crumple as you covered your laugh with his hand. scared for their life, the recruit nodded and spat out how they wouldnt do it again to which alex sent out of the room.

when alex made his way back to you and saw how dejected you look, he immediately scooped you up and brought you to his room. he spent the rest of the afternoon telling you how cute and heart-warming your laugh made him feel or how he always brags to the boys about how beautiful you look whenever you have a laughing fit.

#cod mw2 x reader #gn reader #captain price x reader #gaz x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #soap mactavish x reader #keegan russ x reader #alex keller x reader

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venomous-ragno · 1 year

Text

What nicknames do they call their partner?

I take requests btw ;)

Tags: CoD x you, gn!reader but use of female nicknames, sfw, fluff, Ghost x reader, Price x reader, Soap x reader, Gaz x reader, Alejandro Vargas x reader, König x reader, Rodolfo x reader

Warnings: Never proofread :D (German native speaker so don't come for me for König's part,,, Austrian German is an entirely different language and it's mystery to us Germans how it works ok)

Masterlist

Ghost isn't the most fluffy person when it comes to nicknames; he mostly used them during sex and can be quite creative then. Outside of the bedroom he mostly sticks to doll, dollface and princess. Never in public let alone during work though.

Price prefers the more simple route. He calls you by nickname in private only, chuckles when you tell him he sounds cheesy, doesn't deny himself the satisfied grin when you call him by nicknames too. His favourites are love, darling and dearest. The classics.

Gaz likes to be cheeky. Playful teasing is one of his ways to show love, so he'll actively search for embarassing, old fashioned, over the top names. Don't worry though, he'll stick to more passable ones when others are around. Sweetcheeks and sugar tits in private, sunshine in public.

Soap is a man of passion, a man far from afraid to show everyone he's yours and you're his. His nicknames are filled with love but can change in meaning just by the tone he calls you in. A big fan of nicknames in the bedroom too, such as: Babe, baby and devil. Soap never tires of declaring you his.

König. Oh, sweet, genuine König. Not the most creative one, but a big fan of nicknames nonetheless. There's just something about them to him, like little declarations of love. Lots of German nicknames, ever changing; schatz (treasure), häschen (little bunny) and engel (angel) are his go to. In English he'll stick to cupcake, no matter your protests.

Alejandro promised to love you with all he is, and he's never broken a promise. His nicknames are testaments to how alive you make him feel, of the want to live your sole presence ignites in him. Spanish rolls off his tongue easily: Mi amor, mi vida, light of my life. Not a speck of shame to be found when he calls you by those in front of others.

Rodolfo tends to use nicknames absentmindedly, and has called you by some during work, when his comrades happened to be around. They laugh it off, happy he's found someone, but he prefers to keep such things private. Has definitely called Alejandro by a nickname on accident once. Imagine the colonel's smirk at being called carinõ / carinã, mi corazón and sweetheart.

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cod-sins · 9 months

Note

could you write cod hcs for a female reader who's 5"9 and a bit chubby? thank you <33333

.ೃ࿐ Format: Hcs

.ೃ࿐ Paring: König. Ghost.

.ೃ࿐ Reader: Female. Chubby.

.ೃ࿐ Ratings: SFW. A bit too fluffy on Simon's part.

[A/N: FIRST FEMALE READER REQUEST LET'S GOOO! Also I'm 6'0-6'1 so to me anything under that is short LOL.]

KÖNIG

Oh my god he's so in love with you.

König may be a 6'10 killing machine who wouldn't hesitate to end a person's life but he's absolute putty in your hands. He treats you like goddess always spoiling you with whatever items you want.

He isn't all that into PDA, he'll hold your hand or maybe put an arm around you if he's feeling particularly antsy/jealous but at home he's a completely different person.

He loves to lay in bed with you, on his side while you just talk about your day. His eyelids would be low and there would be a soft smile on his face while you were talking. If you asked him if he was paying attention he would repeat back every single word you said—not missing a beat.

Thinks your chubbyness is cute. Thinks your whole body is cute to be honest.

König can sometimes get really cheesy and mushy over you but he refrains from taking action because he's scared he'll come off as overbearing.

He loves to softly tease you. Thanks to the hot weather he'll walk around the house shirtless flaunting his body and calling you out whenever you stare.

"And that's how Horangi and I were able to defeat an entire squadron without taking a single hit!" He says proudly while looking at you for a reaction. You however were to busy staring at his abs to notice.

"Maus." "Huh?" "My eyes are up here." He says with a dumb smirk on his face. He watches as you as shift positions—to flustered to look at him.

König closes the jar lids way too tight, he doesn't do it to be annoying he's just adamant on keeping his food fresh and preserved. It wouldn't be a problem until he's deployed and you can't open a jar of jelly to make a sandwich.

He also does this with things in the pantry/cabinet. König is still not use to living with a person who's shorter than him so you'll have to remind him to not put things on the tallest shelf.

He loves to pick you up and twirl you around.

GHOST

Ghost loves to loom over you. Even if you're doing mundane tasks such as washing the dishes or folding laundry, he'll lean on the wall or just stand right behind you watching. He notices every little detail in what you do.

He thinks the height difference between you two is cute. He loves when you wear his clothes because they're always too big and they manage to swallow you whole. He never comments on it he'll just stare at you admiring you.

His favorite dates with you are quiet ones. Like picnic dates on a sunny afternoon away from other people or driving to a diner that he really likes [they have those in the UK right?].

If you guys are watching TV together he'll nitpick everything the characters do. "He didn't even turn the safety off." "His gun still had bullets left why did he toss it away?" "If they were on the field they would be dead." Remind him that it's fake and he'll temporarily shut up.

One of his favorite memories of you was on a short weekend. It was right before he was deployed and he spent it with you, laying in bed, drinking and eating a bunch of takeout that you two ordered. You spent that night just holding him and playing with his hair, softly rocking back and forth while he had his head on your chest listening to your heartbeat.

Ghost fondly remembers every word you said to him even if you don't he still thinks about it when he's on the field or when it's early in the morning and you're still asleep.

Ghost loves the way his body engulfs you whenever you hug him. Sometimes he'll squeeze you just a little bit too tight to make sure you're real and not some beautiful illusion his mind made up.

Requests are closed, but you may still send them in.

Feedback is greatly appreciated!

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cheesit-notes · 9 months

Text

TASK FORCE 141

and how they fuck you

cw: MDNI!, fem reader, rough fucking, raw dogging it, riding (cowgirl), finger fucking, slow ghost, thigh riding, fucking in front of recruits a/n: teehee pls don't ban me for this Tumblr, this is 18+

soap who likes fucking you rough, and even rougher when in front of the recruits. not really into condoms, likes it raw kinda guy you know? don't worry, he'll do tons of foreplay for you. kisses trail from your face down to your thighs. will get down on his knees to eat you out, and mind you, he's as good as he says. he honestly forgets about any forms and sorts of dirty talk at this point because he's too busy, your moans do most of the talking. by the time you're ready, he's already superr impatient. his pants strained and he's leaking precum like a faucet, he's been so patient up until now so he feels like he deserves a reward. his reward being he gets to ram his cock into you with little to no warning^^ if you think being fucked hard and rough is the end of it, you're wrong. he's a cocky fucker, he'll fuck you in front of the recruits just to show them who's better.

gaz who has you ride him, cowgirl style. you could be on the couch in the common area or in his barracks on the bed, doesn’t matter. he’ll sit there and watch as you do all the work. at first you’re doing so well and he’s praising you for it but after a while, you start to get tired :( poor you. he knows when you’re slowing down and he can get soo mean. a hand on your hip as he instructs you to go faster, harder, until he has you slammed down, bottoming out in you. the entire time, he’s spitting out insults about how you can’t do something as simple as riding him properly. cums inside you, sticky hot white cum drips down your thighs as you try to get up before his hands force you down on him again. he’s just trying to keep the cum where it belongs so let him fuck it back into you, yeah?

ghost who, surprisingly, likes fucking you slow. really slow. so slow in fact you start begging him to go faster. it feels like he’s teasing you with how little he’s giving you, but he’s enjoying it. there’s two position you’re in: on your knees taking him from behind with his hand on your stomach, or on your back with his thumb pressed over your abdomen. has at least a finger over your stomach to feel the bulge as he slides in and out. shit gets him high. calls you his little doll ‘cause you’re honestly just laying there letting him do whatever. he cums just from feeling the bulge that’s his cock in your stomach. even after he’s all soft, he’ll still shove some fingers in. he’ll curl his fingers and they’re so big and fat, and god, even his fingers stretch you out. this’ll go on for hours until you’re a babbling crying mess who came just from some fingers. he’s got all the time in the world to play with his doll.

captain price who’s a more hands-off kinda guy. he won’t even fuck you until you’ve cum from riding his thigh. making a mess over his pants as your legs tremble from the sensation. shoves toys in your cunt in the morning, “quiet, i’know you can take it”, so by nighttime you’ll be all wet for him! he’s not rough like soap, and not slow like ghost, he’s just normal fucking. not too rough, not too slow, just right. trust, he’s got tons of experience so he knows how to please a woman. if there’s one thing to complain about, it’s his death grip on your thighs. it doesn’t stop at red markings that last for hours or days, there are bruises on your thighs that can last up to weeks. he takes making you unable to sit normally to a whole new level. price is like soap in some ways, he wants to show people that he’s superior but not as obvious as soap. he won’t fuck you in front of the recruits, but you will be riding his thigh during briefings with the team.

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l0velylecter · 1 year

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I'd like to request headcanons for our lovely cod men. 💖 How would they react when they were out and about running errands or something and they saw a woman they thought was so pretty they couldn't stop starring? This happened to me at the library once and it makes me feel vain to think about it so I shouldn't but it was quite an ego boost and it gives me butterflies. 🤭

— the cod : mw ii men + staring at you because you’re too beautiful characters : simon ‘ghost’ riley, john ‘soap’ mactavish, alejandro vargas, captain john price, phillip graves, kyle ‘gaz’ garrick, rodolfo parra fandom : call of duty modern warfare ii tags : f!reader, headcanons, drabble, cute request from anon, love at first sight kind of vibe, very cheesy rating : g for general , sfw!

01 | In an instant, his head would go blank, all thoughts out of the window. Gaz would stand across you in stunned silence, mouth slightly parted as you ask him again with a smile what he'd like to order while the people at the back of the line tapped their feet and checked their watches. He'd spew a random order, rubbing the back of his neck nervously as you wrote down his name on the cup. In the end, he'd return to the car with a frappe that was way too sweet for his taste. He didn't mind though, the little heart by the end of his name and the string of numbers written underneath it enough to bring out his sweet tooth. ( Price and Laswell would ask him where their orders were, snapping him out of the trance. )

02 | Soap doesn't mind being approached by dogs when they're with their owners. If anything, it makes him happy — which is why he's made it a habit to bring dog treats in his pocket whenever he's out on a walk. A clever pupper must've noticed because he's suddenly dashing towards him: tail wagging and barking playfully. Just as Soap wondered aloud where his owner was, you ran toward him, out of breath and profusely apologizing. He didn't catch a word, staring at you as a grin crept up against his face. And when he spoke, he stumbled over his words for a bit, a faint blush creeping up his neck. Despite trying to keep his cool and calm, he eventually cracked and admitted — " sorry, it's not every day I get to see a lass as bonnie as you." Giddy that he got your number, he didn't notice the lamppost ahead, still looking back at you from time to time. You asked him if he was alright, and he assured you he was fine, even if Soap realized that he's been walking in the wrong direction and was now in a completely different neighborhood.

03 | An earthquake could rock the stadium, and Price would still keep his eyes glued to the game. Laswell once said nothing could distract him from a football game until you sat across the man, unaware that Price just did a double take. The moment he realized he had missed the goal, he cursed under his breath: still unable to look away from how you clapped and cheered. And when you caught him, eyes locking together, he'd give you a smirk, flustering you with his confidence instead. Gaz and Laswell by the other side, giving each other a look, both rolling their eyes and smiling. He ends up striking up a conversation with you during half-time, and Gaz is secretly taking notes judging how you went to sit next to the captain. 04 | It's not a surprise for Alejandro to be stopped by the locals of the market whenever he goes out to run errands. A group of tías and tios would crowd him with a mouthful of questions, mostly thanking him for his service before meddling with his love life. It didn't bother him, even if it caused him to go home an hour later most of the time. Granted, it might get him in trouble because when you're constantly under the watchful gaze of people, it's hard not to get called out for staring yourself. When a voice snitched on him for watching you stand by the fruit stall, all eyes turned to him, including yours. He'd freeze and give a shy smile, trying to pretend he's been staring at the sky for a bit. They'd laugh, you'd laugh, and he'd silently cringe at himself. Even flustered, Alejandro is still charming, offering to pay for your groceries and honestly admitting that you were so beautiful he couldn't look away. There were a few stutters and a thin dust of red across his cheeks. He offers to carry your stuff to your car despite the heat of the noontime, grinning here and then. 05 | Rodolfo was a mess when you walked up to him and asked for directions. Granted, he had been staring at you before that, hoping that the sunglasses hid the way he's been watching you try to figure out the map in your hands. Rodolfo felt like a creep, but he couldn't help it: you looked stunning under the sun, cheeks red from the heat. So when you were walking in his direction, he started looking around for a place to hide, but it was just him, the wired gates behind him, and a tree too thin to cover him. It took him everything in his willpower not to stumble over his words, pushing down a smile. So when you told him playfully that you knew he'd been staring, it was all it took for him to hide his face behind a hand, too ashamed to look at you as you laughed. You told him it was cute and gave him your number, and Rodolfo had to spend thirty minutes behind the steering wheel to steady his hands before actually driving back to base. 06 | Once the shock wore off, Graves made a beeline for you — ignoring whoever had been talking to him to walk in your direction, hands in his pockets to feign ignorance. It would have been comical if the bastard wasn't actually charming, confident, and somewhat smug; Graves reminded you of a peacock preening his feathers. Even after you brush him off, you still sometimes catch him staring at you from across the room, eyes blue and electric as they follow your every move: shamelessly checking you out. 07 | A heartbeat passed where he just stood and watched you, expression barely readable behind his mask and tactical gear. And under the silhouette, surrounded by the chaos of men shouting orders and the helicopter taking off, it was even harder to tell what he was thinking. Yet for a fraction of a second, his eyes would widen, the initial suspicion wearing off to make way for something akin to awe. Yet that was as close as you'll ever get to seeing him off his balance. But you still feel it, the invisible hair on the back of your neck pricking up whenever he's in the room, knowing that his eyes followed and so did his footsteps: never too far away in case you'd ever need his help. In a strange yet not unwelcomed turn of events where Simon became rather protective in guarding a rescued civilian, Laswell tells you it's because you're beautiful. You find that hard to believe ( even if everyone but you know it's the closest thing to Ghost flustered by first sight.)

a/n : hi anon ! sorry for the long response it’s been a hectic week, it’s also my first time writing after nearly a week and half now so sorry if i’m a bit rusty !! i hope you enjoyed this, i really had fun writing this request, what an interesting prompt ! and lucky you to have that interaction in the library hehe <3 → i believe graves likes to pretend he’s the rizzmaster, but it’s actually price. also gaz wants to learn how to have rizz and everyone assumes ghost has rizz but he doesn’t that much. ( simon is the equivalent of staring at your crush for longer than 3 seconds and thinking that they’ll notice.)

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softestqueeen · 5 months

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my little flower pt. 1

pairing: stalker!könig (cod) x reader

summary: You were just minding your business, planting some new flowers in your garden, when suddenly a (charming) man in a mask abducts you to use you for his pleasure. You are incredibly conflicted; the stranger seems to be kinda nice but also incredibly selfish at the same time.

warnings: 18+ MDNI!!! stalking, kidnapping, non-con, rape, soft!König (kinda), soft dom!könig (again kinda), p in v sex, oral (both receiving), pet names, overstimulation, breeding, heavy breeding, cum kink (does that even exist?), cock warming, creampie

wordcount: 2897 words

a/n: This was requested on my ao3, so I hope I’m doing it justice!! I’m also sorry it took me some time to get to it, but it was super fun to write!! I also apologize for all the puns in this fic, there were just too many good opportunities (even though some were kinda cheesy)! And now enjoy <3

Read it here on my ao3!!

It was a beautiful day out and you were enjoying the warm spring sun. You have been waiting for this day all winter long and could now finally enjoy gardening again.

You gathered all your tools again and grabbed the flower seeds you bought last year but couldn’t plant anymore due to the autumn that always came way too fast for your liking. You put on your gardening trousers and slipped on your gardening gloves; your excitement evident in your humming.

You went out into your garden, which was small but couldn’t be more perfect for your yearly projects. You started to dig a few holes into the loosened earth. You went back into the house to get the flower seeds before diving right back into your work.

You were just about to cover the next hole when you suddenly heard a ruffling behind you. You didn’t pay it too much mind though and tried to go back to work. It could have been a cat that mistook your garden for theirs.

But then you heard a voice that seemed a little bit too close for your liking, considering that you lived alone and didn’t expect any company today.

“Out early today, I see little flower.” A shiver ran down your spine. The voice was deep and there was a slight accent evident in it. Was that a German accent?

You were still kneeling on the floor, but still turned around anyways. The man who just talked to you was tall. But not just tall that man was a giant. You had to strain your neck to look at his face, if anybody had been watching the two of you like this, it had to look ridiculous. He must have been around 6”10 at least. He was wearing a tight uniform and a mask which he wore under a helmet. His eyes were a rich and deep green, fitting perfectly to the red stripes that adorned his mask, which was more a dark sheet than a mask.

What was this – admittingly kinda hot – guy doing in your garden? And what did he know about your gardening habits? That was definitely more than a tad scary. But you seemed to regain the control over you body and decided to ask the question that was burning on your tongue.

“Who are you and what the fuck are you doing in my garden?” You were pointing your hand shovel at him while saying this. Your tone gave away that you were not amused at all by someone disturbing you during your cherished gardening time.

“Of course, I’m here to get you my little flower.” he answered you before adding “My name is König and I have been watching you since you moved in here. I am your shadow and even though you’ve never seen me, I’ve been here all the time, watching you in your garden, watching you when you’re out with friends or when you are going to work. But now you are going to come with me and from now on I’ll be the only one you’ll see.”

He said that with a certain confidence in his voice that made again a shiver run down your spine. Did he just threaten to abduct you? Why couldn’t this have happened AFTER the summer? You were now not just scared for your life but also annoyed with the stranger in front of you.

You were still quiet – or more speechless, because if you were able to speak you would have definitely said something to defend your honour at least a little bit – so König continued with his little speech.

“I will give you a choice: either you come with me willingly, or I will simply take you with me. Either way, this is going to have the same outcome, so I recommend just going with me.”

Well, that was not as much of a choice as you hoped. You were too stubborn to just submit to this random guy that appeared out of nowhere in your garden, so you just crossed your arms and looked at him like you could kill him with your hard gaze.

“You’re not going to just come with me, are you?”, he asked you rather annoyed, probably having hoped for a little less resistance.

“Who in their right mind would just go with a complete stranger, who just broke into their house and to make it even worse in their garden!”, you were getting louder and louder by the second, hoping this whole situation was just a dream that you would wake up from.

König let out a sigh before pulling out a white cloth and murmuring to himself, wieso muss alles immer so schwer sein?

It all happened in a flash: he knelt down on the floor in front of you and pressed the white cloth against your face, covering your mouth and nose. He put his other hand to the back of your head, keeping you in place while you struggled against him, but to no avail. You knew you had no chance against this almost 7 feet tall monster in front of you, still you tried to fight against him, when suddenly everything went dark.

You awoke on an unfamiliar bed in an unfamiliar room. Where the fuck where you?! And why did your head hurt? You were just in your garde- Oh. Jep, this was unfortunately not a dream. Definitely not a dream.

You tried to get a good look at your surroundings. The room was quite large and looked actually kinda nice. There was of course the bed that you were still laying on, a bedside table, what seems to be some kind of make up vanity, a chair, a large bookshelf and most importantly two doors. You assumed one led to a bathroom and the other one to the hallway.

The good sign was, that there were windows. Curtains were currently covering them, but they were there, which meant that you were not locked up in some weird basement or an old attic.

You were still trying to gain all your senses back when you suddenly heard footsteps outside of the door. You didn’t have enough time to lay back down before you could hear a key turning and the door opening.

“I see, my little violet has blossomed. How are you feeling? You’ve been out longer than I expected.”, he seemed to almost regret drugging you, but his face was still covered, so you couldn’t really tell if he was sincere or if it was all a trick.

“Well, how would you feel if someone drugged and kidnapped you?”, you shot back, now irritated again. Even though you couldn’t see it, König’s brows furrowed at your snarky remark. He though you liked him back.

But it didn’t matter, he was going to make you his and you will want it. He would do anything for you.

He took a step towards you, and you slid higher up the bed. You were still feeling a little bit woozy from the drugs, so the sudden movement made you a bit dizzy.

“Please don’t hurt me.”, you managed to whimper out.

“Don’t worry, my little flower. I’m going to take good care of you from now on.”, he promised you, even though to you it sounded more like a threat. He took another step towards the bed, but you were already up against the headboard, so you could do nothing but squirm under his intense gaze that held so many promises.

“If you keep on squirming like that, I’ll have to tie you down, flower.”, he threatened you again. You were scared shitless. You couldn’t have defended yourself even if you weren’t drugged right now. You wondered for a brief moment if maybe he had hoped that he could drug you so he could do to you whatever he wanted. Your blood froze as you suddenly became aware of the fact that you were only wearing a pair of white panties.

But you didn’t even own any, so he did not just undress you, but put on clothes he had prepared for you. You were feeling sick to your stomach and only snapped out of it when you felt a gloved hand against your ankle. He was sitting on the foot of the bed and had apparently noticed that you zoned out, though he remained quiet.

You just realized that you were at this man’s complete mercy. In this moment he could do anything to you, and you could not protest.

He took off his helmet and pulled down the mask that was still keeping his face from you. You hated yourself for admitting this, but he was handsome. His face was all sharp angles and beautiful features. Plump lips, high cheekbones, prominent jaw and still the same piercing green eyes that mustered you.

He threw his discarded helmet and mask carelessly to the side before he started to kiss up your legs.

“I’m going to make you feel so good, my perfect violet.”, he said in between kisses and the first tear rolled down your face. He kissed up both of your legs before he also kissed over your torso and arms. He hasn’t been too close to your face yet thank God.

He locked eyes with you as he pulled down your panties, the hunger evident in his eyes. he broke eye contact to look at your now exposed cunt. He also threw away your panties, leaving you completely naked. Your limbs lay there limp, too heavy to move. You had resigned to your fate and would just let him do what he had to before he hopefully would mercifully let you go.

He was still staring at your exposed cunt like it was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. He leaned down and planted kisses on the top of your thighs, your hips, and loins. You could do nothing but lay there and let him use you.

“I’m going to pump that pussy full until my seed takes root in your womb and a child will sprout within you. Then you will have to stay with me forever. I can’t wait, little flower.”, he almost said it to himself before he dived in and started planting open mouthed kisses on your pussy. He seemed to have all the time in the world, as he played with you. He let his tongue glide between your folds and circled your clit. He kept a steady rhythm and – even though you hated to admit it – you were coming closer to your release.

You didn’t have any control over you body anymore and came with a drawn-out moan. König didn’t let up his torture though and just kept on playing with your pussy long after your orgasm had subsided. He seemed to quite enjoy himself, as you could feel him smiling against you. Silent moans and whimpers were falling from your lips, and you involuntarily moved your hips against him when you felt him insert a finger into your tight cunt. The intrusion brought you embarrassingly close again, and it didn’t take long for the next orgasm to roll over you.

You don’t know how many more orgasm he gave you, because everything was kind of blurry and was so overwhelming. You did notice however when he pulled away, planting a last kiss on your sensitive and overstimulated clit. König stood up again and was now standing next to the bed, your gaze following his every move.

He unzipped his trousers and took out his flushed and rock-hard cock that was definitely to big to fit into any of your holes. The man gripped the base of his cock before slowly pumping it a few times. He let go of it to grab your hand and pull you to him with ease, your body still limp. He placed your head on the edge of the bed, so it was hanging off it, while your body stayed on the bed.

“Open up, little flower. Let me fuck that pretty mouth, huh? Don’t you think I deserve a little treat after treating you so well.”, he cooed before inserting his thumb between your lips, as to pry open your mouth. You were feeling like a puddle of slime and couldn’t have resisted anyways.

König inserted his leaking cock into your mouth and slowly entered you until you swallowed his cock completely. You could feel his pelvis against your nose and his cock down your throat. If you weren’t so numb, you would have definitely gagged. You head was still tilted, so König had a perfect view of the bulge that his dick was causing.

He pulled out almost completely before slamming back into you. He didn’t give you any time to adjust to his size or the feeling of him intruding in your mouth. He started to fuck your mouth in earnest, growling and groaning above you. You pressed your eyes closed, hoping the moment would just end.

Your chest and face were flushed, now not just from the uncomfortable situation but also from the shame that you were feeling, because it didn’t feel completely bad to know that you were the cause of his pleasure, even though you didn’t have do anything. He ate you out until your limbs turned to putty and now used your mouth and throat like they had seriously wronged him.

Suddenly there was a shift, and he didn’t just groan but also praise you. Telling you how good your mouth felt and how well you were doing, making something weird bloom in your chest. The situation wasn’t as bad as anticipated, even though you still wished you were never born.

König increased his speed before pulling out and painting your face, breasts, chest and stomach with his hot white cum. You were finally able to properly breath again, the heaviness on your chest now lightly lifting again.

You licked your lips, involuntarily tasting his surprisingly sweet cum. You were still upside down with your head, thus feeling a little nit light handed. He gripped your waist with one of his beefy hands and threw you back on the bed like you were a rag doll and weighed nothing.

He crawled on top of your sprawled out body before he whispered into your ear “It would be a shame to let all that cum go to waste, wouldn’t it?”

He leaned back and started to collect his cum with one of his thick fingers, before he pushed his cum into your sensitive pussy. He kept on doing it until you hit yet another high before he decided he played enough with you.

“I made a promise to you, my beautiful rose, and I’m a man who stays true to his word”, he unfortunately remined you. He was still fully dressed in his unform, only his helmet and mask were missing, and his cock was standing erect against his clothed stomach again.

He got on his knees between your spread legs, using one of his hands to keep your shaking legs open and the other one to guide his aching cock to your tight hole. He guided himself to your cunt and started to ease himself into you with slow thrusts, completely unlike his earlier assault on your throat.

Once he was settled inside of you it felt like he was splitting you open. He gave you a few seconds to adjust before he started to thrust in and out of you. He was unable to hold his rhythm though, and started to go faster again, a string of sorrysorrysorry leaving his lips.

“You just feel so good.”, he almost moaned out while he again increased his speed, now slamming into you like there’s no tomorrow. König could feel you squeezing him, your next orgasm already fast approaching.

“Cum on my cock, little flower, cum on daddy’s cock.”, he commanded, and your body obliged, a bone crushing orgasm washing over you. But König was not yet finished with you.

He pulled out of you, flipped you around with ease so your ass was sticking out while your face was pressed into one of the pillows. You would have collapsed if he didn’t have a bruising grip on your hips.

He slipped his fat cock inside of you again and started to chase his release. He fucked you like you were a doll, there just for his pleasure and you had a sneaky feeling that that was exactly what you were from now on. He fucked you like he hated you and when you felt his dick twitch inside of you, the both of you came simultaneously.

You clamped down on his cock, making it hard for him to move. He stilled inside of you while he filled you with ropes of his creamy cum, collapsing on top of you and covering you with his large body. You could feel his heavy breathing next to your ear becoming calmer, before you noticed that he had fallen asleep, his cock still nestled inside of you and his weight on top of you.

The last thought you had before passing out from exhaustion, was that this was your life from now on.

And you weren’t sure if that was the best or worst thing that had ever happened to you.

a/n: I hope you enjoyed this! If so, please leave some notes, likes, reblogs, comments and feedback is also very much appreciated! I am currently working on a part 2, so stay tunes! You can also request things here and on my ao3!

Here you can read part 2!

taglist: @silvermagnolias @milywatermelon @BigBananaa

#call of duty #cod #cod modern warfare #cod x reader #könig x reader #könig cod #könig call of duty #konig x reader #könig mw2 #cod mw2 #ao3 #no y/n #reader insert #x reader #fem reader #female reader #afab reader #stalking #tw stalking

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55sturn · 2 months

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Hey!!!! Do you think you could do a husband/dad Matt headcanons???

husband + dad!matt headcanons

he was so nervous to propose, he takes you back to the place you had your first date in boston, it was not your first official date overall, but it was the first one you had in his honetown after you met his parents a year prior, the same night his mom gave him her engagement ring.

the two of you were sitting on a bench at some park late at night, just talking about everything and cuddling, and he just blurts it out because he can’t wait any longer, he’s not on one or anything, just sitting there beside you.

“marry me.” “w-what?” “i’ve got a ring in my pocket right now and i’ve had it for a year, i’ve carried it around for a year straight because i’ve been wanting to ask you since the second my mom gave me the ring the night you met her. you are the person i want to spend my life with, my family adores you, i adore you, there’s no better match for me, so marry me?” “you’d be an idiot if you think i’m saying no.”

and the second you two get back to his parents house, he’s waking up his brothers and telling them you said yes.

he doesn’t want a big wedding, but he is willing to give you whatever you want because he has already and will forever dedicate his life to making you happy.

you settle for a small-ish wedding with close friends and family in the backyard of his parent’s cape cod house.

chris and nate are his best men and he asks nick to get ordained so he can play an equally as important part in the wedding.

the second you two are officially husband and wife and in your way for your honeymoon, he’s doing the cheesy movie scene and carrying you through the door way.

he’s such an acts of service husband, like he’s doing everything you want and ask for.

he 100% gets cheesy mr and mrs. monogrammed mugs and dishes for you both.

your wedding gift to him, with the help of his family, is his own vacation home in vermont.

and his to you, was your guys’ own house.

dad headcanons

he knows you’re pregnant before you even tell him, he tracks your periods and everything and has your cycle memorized so when he sees that your box of tampons/pads is unopened underneath the sink two weeks after your period was due, alarms are going off in his bed because he’s sure you should’ve used majority of them by now.

so he goes and picks up a couple tests for you, and places them on the table in front of you and you’re shocked that he’s aware because you had only just started suspecting that you were pregnant.

the second you see the positive test, you pulling you into such an intense kiss, one so full of love and passion that you have to pull away to breathe and then you’re joking “be careful a kiss like that is what got us here.”

when you guys find out the gender, you also find out that you’re having two twin girls and he’s so unbelievably happy.

you wanted to do a big surprise when you guys’ visit his family back in boston but matt being matt, he accidentally tells them so casually in the middle of dinner that his mom chokes on her water and is like “wait what?”

he’s buying every tiny pink thing he sees, you’ll tell him that the babies don’t need another pink pacifier because you’ve already got a drawer full and he’s like “i don’t care i’m buying it for them.”

just like chris, he, nick, and chris put all the furniture together while you’re out because matt doesn’t want you do anything heavy lifting.

matt get extremely overprotective of you.

he will not hesitate to bitch someone out in public if they stare at you funny.

the to-go bags were in the car before you found you were pregnant, they were packed and ready the moment you agreed to try for a family.

when the girls are born, he’s an emotional wreck, he’s just so in awe and love of what you did, of the fact that you carried and made life. he doesn’t acknowledge his part in it because he’s like “you did all the hard work.”

his girls, marley and jamie, have him wrapped around their fingers.

he struggles to say no to them all the time.

he is so protective of all his girls.

and he raises them to not take any disrespect because he girls deserve the best.

he also sets the standard for what kind of partner the girls should be with.

he’s supporting everything they choose to do.

#matt sturniolo #headcanons #anons<3 #replies!#matt sturniolo x reader

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snow--berry · 4 months

Text

Random CoD headcanons #2

Characters: Alejandro, Rudy and Graves

Alejandro

•He definitely has a big family.

•Like every aunt and uncle has like at least 2-3 children by themselves.

•And sometimes those cousins also have children.

•And he also has like 6 siblings and at least 4 of them have 3 children of their own.

•He can cook, but he prefers others do it.

•Loves pastries, especially if Rudy made them.

•Also pretty impatient.

•Rudy calms him down :)

•He loves to hug Rudy from behind. Can you tell I ship them-?

•He's so cheesy

•He looks very huggable to me

•And like he'd be permanentely warm

•Seriously, it can be -10° C and he'll still have warm hands for some ungodly reason

•Ironically he isn't built for the cold at all, he just doesn't handle it well

•He uses gel for his hair and thinking about accidentally touching his hair with the gel on it makes my entire body go ew

•I support the theory of Alejandro, Rudy and Valeria having been a poly couple in the past, but now it's just Ale and Rudy

•Pan and Poly

Rudy

•Tired 24/7. Is it really a headcanon if it's canon at this point? Idk.

•He'd let people put make up on him

•Soap does it for funsies sometimes

•Bi, but he prefers men. Also poly but more hesistant after Valeria.

•Only cooks because he's convinced Alejandro would accidentally starve himself because he's busy doing paperwork

•He doesn't dislike it, but he also doesn't really like chocolate. Idk he just gives off those vibes.

•I wanna pull his cheeks like grandmas do with children

•Not a big family, but not a small one either

Graves

•Super gay and homophobic and the same time

•"It's not gay if it's just kissing the homies good night" -Graves about the shadows

•Your typical American, he has a big flag in his room

•Idk if this is canon or not but he's from Texas

•I don't like him.

•I will not write for him again <3

Sorry Rudy's part is so short btw. Idk how to nail his personality down :')

#call of duty #call of duty mw2 #alejandro vargas #alejandro cod #alejandro vargas cod #alerudy #alejandro x rodolfo #rudy parra #rudy cod #rodolfo parra #rodolfo rudy parra #rodolfo parra cod #phillip graves #phillip graves cod #I hate Graves to an ungodly amount

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indristian · 1 year

Text

A (hopefully) comprehensive guide to german pet names

I've seen a lot of german being included in fanfic (mostly CoD, but I've also seen it in other fandoms before) lately and felt the need to air my grievances about the way I believe German pet names should be used.

There are similar posts by @itsagrimm that touch on how to include German in your fanfics. (sfw and nsfw)

When I say we aren't as big on pet names (or Kosenamen as they are called in German) as English is, I mean it. If you look up german pet names, you might find some pages that have a list of them, but if you were to use them unironically on a native German speaker, they would probably cringe. A lot of them just sound very cheesy to us. So I looked up some of those lists and tried to explain some pet names in this post.

This is mostly ordered from okay to use to "I'd cringe and close the fanfic if I saw them".

If you think you absolutely need to use a pet name, your go-to should be "Schatz/Schatzi" ("treasure"). It's the allrounder of pet names, whether it be platonic or romantic. If the person is dear to you, Schatzi is the word for you.

Similar but with a slightly different meaning (at least in my opinion) is "Schätzchen" ("little/small treasure"). More commonly used in Germany, as far as I’m aware. I think its best usage is when you use it on someone you pity, kinda like a slightly condescending "darling". (Example: "What's got you pouting like that Schätzchen? Was someone being mean to you?") It's also used for children a lot.

"Liebling" ("favorite") is also a good choice for tender moments or casually addressing your partner. As far as I know, it's used more often in Germany than here in Austria.

I've seen the word "Liebchen" ("little love") being used interchangeably with the word "Liebling" and while it may be used like that in some parts of the DACH region, I'd advise to proceed with caution! Firstly, because it's mostly used for women ,and secondly, because here in Austria (at least the part where I'm from), the word is used to describe a fling or a short-term girlfriend. So calling someone "Liebchen" to their face would be a borderline insult. (Imagine me having a "being called a cunt in Australia vs. being called a cunt in America" like moment the first time I read Liebchen being used in a fanfic.)

"Süßer(male)/Süße(female)" ("sweet one") and "Schnucki/Schnuckelchen" ("adorable one" i guess... literally translated it means "baby sheep") are also used more commonly used for women. They can also be used when someone has done something particularly sweet for you or behaves/looks particularly adorable. Although, "Süßer/Süße" has the weird side effect of also sounding like a come-on in most cases, like "Hey Süßer, could you help me out?". (Other examples: "You remembered how I take my coffee? Du bist schon ein Süßer, oder?/You are being a sweet one, aren't you?";[nsfw, because this one is one of the few ones I'd be okay with seeing in aftercare/cuddling scenes] "You were being such a Schnuckelchen crying and begging like that for me.")

Fun fact: a lot of my male friends jokingly call each other "Schnucki". To the point where they pick up the phone with a "What's up, Schnucki?" and the one guy with a girlfriend almost never calls her "Schnucki" so that everybody knows that when he talks about his "Schnuckis" it's about his male friends.

Now, we are descending into cringe territory with: "Liebster(male)/Liebste(female)" ("beloved") and "Herzblatt" ("loved/lovely person", literally "heart leaf"). If you wanna use them, make it dramatic! Otherwise, it sounds weird. They sound old-fashioned, so if your character is waxing poetic about/to their partner like some character on a stage play or being a drama queen, I'd say go ahead and use them. They're bad for casual conversations, though. Btw, "Liebste/r" sounds a bit like the beginning of a love-letter. (Examples: "It's in your hands alone, Liebste, and choosing me over the world is not worth it."; "How could you betray me like that, Herzblatt? You know I don't like chocolate pudding! So, why is it the only flavor you bought?")

We generally have a lot of animal related pet names in German: "Hase/Hasi/Häschen" ("rabbit"/"little rabbit"); "Spatz/Spätzchen" ("sparrow/little sparrow"; "Spatzl" being the Austrian version of it); "Maus/Mausi/Mäuschen" ("mouse"/"little mouse"); "Äffchen" ("little monkey", for when your partner is being a silly little monkey; "Affl" being the Austrian version); "Bärchen" ("little bear", the right choice for big and friend-shaped partners, generally for men). There are probably a lot more, but these are the most common ones, and they are great for casual conversations. These are also among the most common petnames for children, so for the love of God, leave them out of your smut.

Fun fact: There's an austrian millionaire who has the habit of calling his young, beautiful girlfriends animal names, "Katzi/kitten" and “Bambi” being among the most famous ones.

There are a lot of pet names that can be used when talking *about* someone's partner, but saying it to their face sounds weird. "Bessere Hälfte" ("better half") or "Angebeteter(male)/Angebetete(female)" ("beloved", literally it means someone you pray to) are among them. These can and probably will be tricky for non-german-speakers to work with. You'd have to keep the different case forms in mind, and they just sound better if you keep the whole sentence in german and then switch languages. (Examples: "Wo ist deine bessere Hälfte/Where's your better half? They not around today?"; "Schreib deiner Angebeteten lieber mal/Better shoot your girlfriend a text. She'll wonder where you are otherwise.").

And last but not least, here are some pet names you'd better avoid, for different reasons:

"mein Lieber(male)/meine Liebe(female)" ("my love/beloved") ugh... just no. This is the equivalent of your mother using your full name. Paired with a certain tone, this triggers my fight or flight. So do not use it unless your character is in trouble.

"Zimtschnecke" ("cinnamon roll"), "Schnecke" ("snail"; i also have no idea why we say that) or "Puppe/Püppchen" ("doll/little doll") are generally ways to adress someone beautiful. If you use them, however, you're gonna sound like a 60+ y/o man hitting on a girl in her mid 20s. Do not use unless used jokingly ,and the other person is in on the joke.

Personally, I'd say if you are unsure on what the character you're writing would use, just use the English ones or keep petnames out of their vocabulary entirely and make them show their love in other ways. Shortened versions of their partners name are also a very good alternative. Additionally, I'd advise you to pick one pet name and stick to it. Changing it up feels weird.

Feel free to add things or ask for clarifications

#german #austrian #fanfics #writing #author #könig #könig cod #könig call of duty #call of duty #fanfiction #writing advice #könig x reader #könig fanfiction

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