knowei

[knowei]

Still brain rotting over Soap being into Simon’s selectively mute (edit; I originally labeled reader as non-verbal, but I was made aware mutism more accurately describes this!) gf.

cw: exhibitionism/vouyerism

Things really quietly escalate during movie nights. You’re usually in Simon’s lap, under a blanket. And Simon starts touching you. Johnny notices, his eyes keep flicking to Simon’s arm over your front and wrist leading down beneath the quilt. The first couple of times this happens, he’s able to tear his eyes away and keep his eyes on the tv, and doesn’t mention a thing.

Until he can’t keep it going anymore. You’re watching some shitty sword-and-sorcery movie. A barbarian and a royal knight who have to put aside their differences and join forces to save the princess and the rest of the realm. He doesn’t give a fuck— he was really only keeping his eyes on the screen hoping the princess’s pretty tits would distract him. They don’t.

This time he’s fully staring. The gentle rock of Simon’s wrist. If Soap focuses, he can hear the sound of his fingers in your wet little cunt. You keep your eyes on the movie, while Simon lets his head loll and faces Johnny, lazy smirk creeping into his face.

“She know I can see what yer doin’ to ‘er, LT? Fuck, I can hear it— smell it, even. She ok with that?”

“Was her idea to start with, Johnny.” Soap sucks in a breath and starts palming himself— rock hard in his pants.

“That true, hen? You wanted me to see you gettin’ fucked on Si’s fingers?”

You look to him and nod.

“You mind if I take my cock out, then? A little cruel to show me my best mate knuckle deep in a beautiful girl and expect me t’resist.” You lean back and whisper into Ghost’s ear a bit.

“Says she wants t’see it, sergeant. Wants you to stroke yourself off for us.” The jingling of a belt buckle is immediate and it’s timed perfectly— the barbarian breaking through his chains on screen, able to catch the princess from a fall in the nick of time. Johnny bites his lip hard as he spits and wraps a fist around his cock.

“Fuck— mark m’words, baby, once I hear you say you want me, it’s over for you, bonnie.”

[knowei]

Lately I’ve been getting a kick outta the idea of Ghost having a girlfriend that Johnny is painfully interested in (tale as old as time). But she a lil neurodivergent and selectively mute (edit; I originally labeled reader as non-verbal, but I was made aware mutism more accurately describes this!). She’s comfortable enough with Simon that she’ll talk to him when they’re alone, but she won’t say a word to Soap (she doesn’t talk to the other guys either, but you know that Johnny chooses to take it so damned personally).

The worst part is that Soap will say shit to her, and she’ll give Simon her little signal so he can bend down and she can talk to him so fucking quietly. It’s like they speak a different language and Simon is the interpreter. And it’s so infuriating to him because shit like this will happen.

“Ain’t you looking a right picture, bonnie— that dress new? Fits ye like a damned glove, sweetheart.”

You tug on Simon’s sleeve so he can lean down. Soap is rocking back and forth on his heels, anticipating an answer. He’s down so bad, he doesn’t even care that he’ll hear it from Simon’s lips and not yours. You whisper for what feels like minutes on end.

“She says thanks.”

“God damn, L.T.— you know she fuckin’ ‘ad to ‘ave said more than that!” He whines indignantly, Simon smirking. Simon knows all about his little crush, and chooses to let the lad suffer. His time will come when you’re ready.

This goes on and on for months on end— and you know what? It’s hard for Johnny to jerk off to the image of you wedged between him and Ghost when he has no idea what you sound like, moaning or otherwise. You can probably see him half hard in his jeans every time he heads home from a movie night with you and Simon.

“G’night, L.T. Night, hen.” Soap’s almost all the way down the walkway when he hears something almost inaudible over the ambient sounds of the night.

“Goodnight, Johnny.”

Now that’s gonna keep his fantasies fed for weeks.

[knowei]

Welp, since absolutely no one asked

Here are the types of bodies I think the 141 have ✨

TF141 x Female Reader

Tags: cum eating, blow jobs, oral (fem receiving), cumming in pants, multiple orgasms

Warning: NSFW imagery beneath cut

Kyle “Gaz” Garrick

As far as sheer beauty goes, Gaz might top them all. I head canon Kyle as being pretty lean, body composed of sculpted, sheer muscle. He's got a slim frame, like a runner or boxer.

Graceful. Strong. Built for endurance and agility.

What's more? It's fucking effortlessssss. Like, legitimately. When he was a middle schooler, he might have been told he was skinny once or twice. But the minute he hit his growth spur and shot up like a bean stalk, no one could say shit.

Why?

Because Gaz looks like a goddamn male model and he doesn't even have to do anything to maintain it.

Perfect skin? Yep. He uses five dollar lotion.

Legs like a ballerina? Uh-huh. The only training he does is for work.

Sculpted, mouth-watering abs? Check. They were built by McDonald's fries, Netflix, and the grace of God himself.

Let's face it. Gaz looks like he walked off the cover of a magazine purely because the lord has favorites. Let's move on.

Now, Gaz might only go the extra mile when it comes to work training...

But those muscles didn't just come from anywhere.

And the first time Gaz gets you underneath him, cock pounding into you for what feels like hours, you finally fucking understand.

Gaz's body—slick, strong, and slim—is built for agility. For endurance.

It's built for trapping you beneath the length of his covetous frame until you're too exhausted to struggle. For holding you down until he's dripping with sweat, until every muscle in his shaking body screams for a break.

Until his long, aching cock is slowly dripping semen onto the flat of your stomach.....for the third time in the past hour.

Gaz might loathe running the track, but he'll have you fucking like bunnies until you manage to buck him off.

The man has stamina that could rival a racehorse, and god help any woman that found herself in his grasp.

"Sit still, baby," he pants loudly, wrenching the globes of your ass in two of his model-esque hands, "M'not fuckin' done yet. One more...I just—need one more."

Johnny “Soap” MacTavish

Now Soap? probably the exact opposite of Gaz.

When body building became popular online, Soap jumped right on the bandwagon. Perhaps he grew up as the youngest brother in a horde of boys...or perhaps he was just tired of being the shortest boy on the football team...

But the minute he was old enough to afford a gym subscription, he was there. From dusk 'til dawn, practically. To Johnny, the gym is more than just a hobby. It's a lifestyle, and one that he enjoys immensely.

Soap is bulky, built of bulging muscle, broad shoulders, and thin hips. Every inch of it, from his plush chest to his cut abs, was painstakingly earned by hours of pumping iron.

He goes lifting six days a week, tracks all of his nutrition down to the last calorie. Everything he puts into his body is tracked and monitored--and that's the way he likes it.

He'd never say it aloud, but if it were up to him, I think he'd be the type to participate in those fitness/body building competitions.

In simple terms though? Without all those fancy words? "Macros?" "BCAAS?" What the hell is that?

In layman's terms...

Johnny has arms like tree trunks and ass for fucking DAYS. With the bulk and cut cycle, he oscillates between beautifully fatty in the thighs....to shredded like a piece of paper.

You can't help but watch him go back and forth, mind reeling with the change.

In the winter, you rest your head against the soft plains of his stomach while you lap at the head of his cock, soft and squishy from holiday cookies and hot cocoa. You like him like this.

Full. Rosy cheeked. Cock leaking strings of slick in the dip of his belly button, semen thin and stringy in your mouth.

In the summer? God help you.

In the summer, Johnny's out more than he's in, running himself ragged between his diet, work, and the gym. When he comes home, he's grumpy and agitated, balls achingly full, and semen thick after months of careful water intake.

His caloric intake might be down...but he prefers a different type of eating, anyway.

Good thing he has all those muscles. All the better to hold you down while he fucks you on his tongue.

"Johnny—" you mewl, shoving at his head when his tongue curls around your clit again, "It's past five already—aren't you ready for dinner?"

His lips pop when he pulls off of your swollen clit, eyes glazed over while he watches the way your pussy leaks.

"M'not hungry, doll," he mutters, "Got more than enough to eat here, anyway..."

Simon “Ghost” Riley

Simon Riley....

Now, he's just a big fucking boy. Like, 6'4, over 250 lbs type of big.

Hear me out. Contrary to popular belief, I think Simon has more trouble keeping weight on than keeping it off. I wholeheartedly believe that when he was a teenager he was a thin guy.

Like, he'd fully grown into his height, but just didn't have the nutrition to support it. Simon doesn't cook, and...for lack of a better description, he's not great at taking care of himself. When he was a teenager, still trapped in his parents house, he probably skipped more meals than he ate. And before he joined the army, I think it's safe to say he was a lanky, underweight kid.

But the minute that man starts eating three meals a day?

GODDAMN DOES HE GROW. Like, I'm pretty sure by the end of basic training his drill sergeants were terrified of the monster they'd created.

Simon's fucking heavyyyyyy. Built equally of fat and muscle. He likes the gym, but his body isn't built for the magazine. It's built for utility. For war. For fucking blood. He doesn't care about appearances. He needs strength than can kill.

Barrel chest. Biceps bigger than your head. Stomach muscled and heaving. A trail of wispy, blonde hair leading down from his belly button into the hefty bulge at the front of his pants....

Simon's a behemoth, and anyone whose fought him on the mat knows better than to stand within his arms' reach.

Now, his weight fluctuates pretty heavily, too. A rough few months in the field could see his weight dropping quickly, in which case his hard earned muscle would show through.

But when he's on leave?

...homeboy sustains himself on granola bars and ramen noodles. He gets soft around the middle and also should probably drink more water but...good luck trying to get him to eat more than convenience store junk. He’ll set the kitchen on fire if he tries to boil some water.

Simon's big.

And he's big everywhere.

The zippers on his jeans are remarkably tight. His fatigues look almost like lingerie on his thick thighs. And if he's wearing grey sweatpants?Simon's a lethal fucking weapon at that point.

Why am I telling you this?

Because the first time you see him naked, you might be tempted to reconsider opening your legs for a man like him...your cervix will be bruised to hell and back--not to mention your ass and thighs, too. His hands aren't kind like Kyle's, nor are they careful like Johnny's.

He'll rough you up, pound into you like any reasonable woman could ever manage to take the full length of him without crying.

He'll bite his identity into your collarbones, burn his fingerprints into the fat of your ass cheeks. And when it's all said and done, he'll bully the fattened head of his ruddy cock between your lips and watch the tears drip from your eyes, swollen mouth quivering when you try to swallow his cum.

And if it's all too much to handle? Good luck getting out from under him. Because once you're there, you're not leaving unless you can push him off, match his strength, or make him cum fast enough to leave before he's hard again.

Though, nobody's ever managed it before...not like they'd ever want to.

"Mm—Simon, you're—“

"Shhhh, love," he grunts, your body shoved flat to the mattress beneath his massive frame, "Don't move. Don't fuckin' move. I'm almost there, just....fuck, sit still and let me fill you up, yeah? Then I'll let you go...I promise this time."

Captain John Price

Now, if there is anyone in the 141 that actually enjoys the food they eat, it's Price.

HEAR ME OUT HEAR ME OUT

okay so, Price, as a Captain, probably makes substantially more than the other three. That, and he's a good bit older too. He's past his prime (or so he thinks), and whether or not he has a perfect six pack when he looks in the mirror is the LAST thing he could ever care about.

Price isn't one for keeping up appearances--at least not as it concerns his body shape.

Is his beard trimmed and oiled? Always. He's damn near neurotic about it.

Is he always freshly showered, groomed, and cologne-d? Without a doubt. It's a point of pride.

Does the watch he's wearing compliment his clothing? he spends a STUPID amount of time thinking about it.

Will he gain another pound if he eats the Oreo cheesecake at the end of the night? Yep. And he'll enjoy every. Single. Second of it.

Price is as close to a foodie as a purebred military man can get. He loves cooking, and he recently remodeled his kitchen. He has GREAT taste in wine and spirits, and has spent a significant amount on amassing a good collection in his house.

If there's one word that describes Price, it's this: DECADENCE.

This man drinks, smokes, and eats as much as he pleases because he's lived long enough to learn the value of hedonism.

Why skip the cigs for the cigar when you could smoke both? Why stop at popping a just a single bottle bottle? Why not order the most expensive steak on the menu? Or the thickest slice of chocolate cake you've ever seen? What, like he'll regret it?

Price doesn't regret anything, and his body reflects that.

Of course, due to his profession, he never truly falls out of athletic shape (he's ready to be called away at a moments notice, after all). But he's LONG SINCE ditched his glory days. Like the others, his body fluctuates between highly cut to soft around the edges.

Price is thick around the ribs and plush in the chest. His weight settles around his hips and arms, making his biceps fluff up if he eats enough. His stomach is soft and sweet. So are his thighs.

The only thing that doesn't change?

The hair. Holy shit this man has a lot of chest hair.

All in all, Price likes a good meal, but he's still in elite fighting shape. Though, unlike the other three, his age stops him from being purely athletic. If anything, he looks more like a construction worker or landscaper. Someone who spent a long time building things with their hands instead of running laps around the track.

Now, what was that about decadence? Drinking, smoking, eating...

Price was indulgent in every sense of the word. Indulgent to himself, to his friends, and to his family.

But in bed?

The way Price fucks makes you understand why people let their teeth rot for another bite of Halloween candy.

Price wouldn't know moderation if it hit him in the face. And when it comes to your pleasure, to your body in and of itself, Price will be damned if you walk away without a smile on your face.

He's a service Dom through and through. Hell, just feeling your cunt clench around his fingers, your voice crying through another orgasm, is nearly enough to make him cum in his pants.

He'd done it before, too.

Was he embarrassed about it?

Not at all.

"John," you gasp, watching his length twitch rapidly beneath his jeans, a wet spot appearing at the top of his bulge, "Did you just..."

"Yeah," he groans between kisses, "So what?"

"It's—It's just that...isn't that a little—"

"Embarrassing?" he chuckles, "Hardly...Not if you'll go as red as I think you will when I let you lick me clean."

To John, watching you lap at his softening cock--and enjoy it too--is more than enough to get his blood pumping.

He'd always give you exactly what you want...even if you didn't have the guts to ask for it aloud.

[knowei]

+18, smut, mdni, f!reader, etc.

In your past relationships, your partners had made it clear that they weren't interested in anything else but their own pleasure and even went as far as showing a look of disgust when you would suggest them touching you back.

In response to this, you would always end things rather quickly. A look of hurt crossing your features as you wondered if anyone would ever actually want to touch you sexually or if maybe you just weren't worth the trouble.

Though, your current boyfriend, would always put those thoughts to rest. At first, you were skeptical with dating him. A little nervous because you didn't want this to end up like all the other relationships you had.

Especially when everything started to move forward and he had you sitting close next to him. His fingers playing with the zipper to your jeans.

"J- john?"

You all but whispered against his lips as he brought his head away, "what is it, sweet girl?"

You could feel your face heat up when you felt him pop open the button and pull the zipper down all while keeping eye contact with you.

"What- what are you doing?"

He quirked an eyebrow, "what? Never did this before?"

You shook your head, "i have some experience, but... well, my previous partners never really wanted to... put their fingers in or use their mouth, so uhm-"

It was embarrassing to say, too embarrassing, in fact, it made you want to dig a hole and crawl into it. But John wasn't letting you get away.

You yelped a little when you felt his hand dip beneath he waistband of your jeans and panties. His fingers lightly tracing your slickening folds.

"Like this?"

When he asked the question, he dipped a finger into your cunt. Your walls immediately clenching around his deft digit, making you squirm. Your squirming doing little help as your clit bumped into the palm of his hand, making your face even hotter than it was before.

You couldn't focus, even when he started to slowly pump his finger, even curling it slightly to hit a spot you didn't even know you had causing you to let out a loud moan.

"Asked you a question, sweetheart."

You panted slightly as he added a second finger, the stretch causing you to keen as you felt him rub and caress at your inner walls, watching as you try to quiet your moans.

"Mmm ahh, ye-yeah, like that," your words came out shaky as you gripped his wrist to steady yourself.

He chuckled softly, "wonder if you'll be able to speak once I get you to sit on my face."

[knowei]

a not so lonely shower - 👻 🧼🧢

his favorite sergeants don’t seem to realize that ghost is in the next stall over (but between you and me, they know. and they want him to hear 🤭)

CLOSE UP CAUSE LOOK ST HIS TUMMY!!!! I WANNA CHEW AND NAW ON HIM

[knowei]

“Why does Leon like Ada when she keeps lying and manipulating him???”

God forbid a man have kinks.

[knowei]

Roommate!Simon Riley that looks at you and his heart squeezes, beats against his chest until it nearly hurts. something about seeing you in the morning makes something click in his brain - your hair messy and a little matted, soft pillow lines on your cheek, eyes half lidded and groggy. it makes him feel off, a sensation that makes his jaw clench. he wants to nip and bite at you, squeeze you, hold you tight and never let go. he’s not familiar with cuteness aggression, hasn’t heard of it and is unfortunately unaware

Roommate!Simon Riley that thinks something is wrong. he likes you so damn much, why does he want to nearly maul you every time he sees you? it gets him worked up when he sees you lounging on the couch in ratty clothes, an old pair of shorts and a stained hoodie. cute. his teeth are itching to just bite at you, fingers twitchy with the need to paw at you. that’s not normal, right? isn’t he supposed to see you and want to hold you gently? act soft and mushy like a normal coupl—? well, you aren’t a couple. he doesn’t know where this is coming from, but he only has one way to work it off

Roommate!Simon Riley that’s been nailing the same punching bag for over an hour. his knuckles are numb at this point, sore and starting to get bruised, but, damnit, he’s still thinking about you. the other gym members are silently avoiding him, eyeing him as he takes another swing at the bag. you looked so adorable eating breakfast, dropping your fork and grumbling— another punch. you looked so charming when you realized you put your left shoe on your right foot— another swing. another connection of his fist to the bag sends it flying, and Simon still wants to smother you lovingly

Roommate!Simon Riley that comes home sweaty and out of breath. he took a shower at the gym, but he decided to run home - took the long way. he hears you laughing, delighted little giggles spilling from your lips. he walks up behind you, looks down at your phone and hums, “What’s tha’?”, he asks. “Aah— it’s a baby hippo! Isn’t she cute? I just want to squeeze her so hard.”, you coo, swiping to another video. squeeze her? “Really? Why’s that?”, he asked, attention drifting towards you. “I dunno, sometimes you just see something cute and want to crush it a little, you know?

Roommate!Simon Riley that does know, and suddenly he feels a little less weird about wanting to squeeze you until you pop, “Yeah, I get it.”

[knowei]

sex pollen trope where you're the one affected, having been exposed to some dense gas while on an op that felt like harsh sandpaper across your throat and lungs, and now you're a feverish mess on some ratty cot in a safe house and with only ghost as company, it's miserable, as the saying goes.

hair sticking to your sweaty skin, plastered onto your forehead and neck, every swallow feeling like you've got a mouthful of sand, your fluttering pulse wild and deafening in your ears, and the throbbing ache deep in your core, the blistering heat right below your navel— it'd only been uncomfortable in the beginning, the faint throbbing incredibly familiar, but the more you ignored it, the worse it got.

and now you're here, with arousal sticking your underwear to your pussy, unable to do anything about it because your lieutenant is seated in a corner that lets him have both you and the front door within his line of sight. a quick, discreet rub under your clothes is not an option.

someone put you out of your foggy misery.

"squirmin' like a worm on a 'ook isn't gonna help." his staring doesn't either, yet he does it anyway.

"got to make sure ya aren't dyin' on me." you want to snap that you don't think proof of life is on the darkened stain between your legs, the retort pressed behind clenched teeth but another thick wave of bestial need rolls over you and god, you're about to shove your hand into your underwear, propriety be damned—

"best you don't do tha'." why the fuck not? "you'll only get relief for a moment 'fore it comes back twofold." he says as if he's reading off the morning paper and not watching you fight tooth and nail to not fuck yourself against the pillow your head is on. (soap's offer to be friends with benefits is only looking better by the hour.)

you hastily decide that it'll be better than nothing. you'll just have to rub your pussy raw until this drug runs its course and you're telling him to piss off or don't, but you've had enough. you're stuck here with him anyway, no flight home until the morn and you're not about to spend it writhing around.

"if tha's wha' you want," ghost bites his gloves off, spitting them out onto the ground before curling his hands around your ankles and dragging you toward him. "i will help." your entire world narrows down to the feel of him touching your skin, his fingers searing as they hook into the waistband of your pants, and you almost kick him in the mouth trying to get them off faster.

"but 'm not fuckin' you." the bite of disappointment is quickly forgotten, his breath warm against your slick pussy, and after three quick glides of his tongue over your pearl, your orgasm crests, pulse after pulse of pleasure so potent it stung.

in less than a minute you're burning again, need thrumming through you and with the heady push and drag of his middle finger over your sensitive nerves, curling in you until he can fit two, three—

you're lost.

(ghost telling you that he's not doing anything else because if he's going to fuck you then you're going to remember it falls on ringing ears.)

[knowei]

Wait but continuing that loser!konig and overstimulation when his only job was to not cum before you did-

That part you wrote(which absolutely made me feral btw you write so well I adore scrounging your blog) about madly bucking his hips and don't mind if he stills for a moment??? Yeah that.

So konig has been unpurposefully edging you unknowingly because whenever you're so close to that orgasm he stilled and spilled his first and you're whining- what he didn't know was you were whining from his accidental edging session over and over again

YUP haha I felt very evil writing that, sat there twirling my fake mustache - laughing and kicking my legs like a villain

CW: Loser!König, overstimulation, edging, no condom (wrap it before you tap it)

Loser!König who really doesn’t mean to edge and overstimulate you, he just can’t help but cum when he’s got you limp on his chest, whining and moaning next to his ear. if anything, it’s really your fault, Liebling, you shouldn’t have tied his wrists behind his back! if it were up to König his hands would be gripping the fat of your hips and bouncing you on his cock while he cums, fucking himself through his orgasm and helping you towards yours

no, instead Loser!König lets out a choked sob as he cums, hips stilling and legs twitching as babbles out another slew of apologies. you were so close this time too, nearly pushed over that blissful edge before he came to a stop. you can feel him leaking out of you, warmth seeping down your thighs as you hiccup - your third ruined orgasm. “I’m sorry— Bitte— Bitte, lass mich es nochmal versuchen.”, his voice is strained as he thrusts up into you again, a weak stutter of his hips before his pace picks up again

it almost feels like too much, receiving a harsh fucking from your weepy mess of a man, but never reaching your peak. your legs feel like jelly at this point despite Loser!König doing all the work. you can’t help but cry out, desperate, hot tears trailing down your cheeks and pooling on his shoulder, “Kö— König, baby, please—“, slurred words tumbling from your lips as he grunts and moans. it’s nearly heartbreaking hearing him stutter out pitiful little ‘I know’s and ‘I’m sorry’s. he wanted so badly to be good for you and he’s messed it all up, a combination or guilt and pleasure bubbling in his gut again

Loser!König who doesn’t realize you’d reached behind him to untie his wrists — only gasping when you manhandle his hands to rest on your hips. you were probably better off letting him edge you accidentally, as soon as his palms meet your hips he’s got them in a bruising grip, thanking you for letting him touch you. his sorries immediately turning into poorly spoken praise and mumbled ‘Ich liebe dich’s. finally, your well-deserved orgasm has you crying out into the crook of his neck, König’s pace faltering as you squeeze him so tightly

it would have been the perfect end to the session, getting your sweet release and passing out next to Loser!König… it would have been. choked little gasp leaving your lips, König doesn’t let up, hands making you meet his harsh thrusts as you whine. “Another— I’m sorry, you deserve another one— Gib mir noch einen, Schatz.”, with his hands free now, it’s only right to work you up to another orgasm, right?

[knowei]

guys i’m in a mood today but…now i’m thinking about Soap/Reader as a cam couple and Ghost who spends obscene amounts of money on them. always choking his hand around his cock as he watches Soap makin’ out with your cute pussy and fondling his own big balls as Soap fucks you in doggy. he’s in the chat, always succinct and blunt, requesting things that are…odd, but it’s alongside a hefty tip so you and your boyfriend never refuse. of course Ghost reads this as an invite. of course Ghost—despite his wide shoulders and sinewy thighs—wants to muscle his way into your relationship, take you in as his pets and give you both a handler because whenever you fuck, you just look like two puppies trying to maul each other :( of course Ghost delegates himself to yours and Soap’s owner. of course—

[knowei]

ok ok so we all know and love loser!könig...BUT CONSIDER loser!könig x loser!reader!!!!

like, reader is equally as touch-starved and nervous and clumsy but also so, so needy...you know??? flusters so easily...and yet also has the FILTHIEST mind.

idk just pathetic man + equally as pathetic reader 😵‍💫💕

Loser!König flustering over you silently resting against him. it doesn’t matter if you seek him out to tuck against his side, lay down on him, or straddle his thighs - all König can do is thickly swallow and awkwardly rest his hands against you. he does adore you nervously settling against him, he’ll just never get used to the way you make his heart pound. he loves how you awkwardly ask him to cuddle, avoiding his gaze by looking down, “Ah— ja, come here, Liebchen.”. he’d never turn you away, a small bit of guilt in his chest because he’s doing it more for himself than you

Loser!König that takes a deep breath before walking up to the cashier to order for you both. even though he feels his skin crawl when he stumbles over your orders, König would rather embarrass himself than let you fumble over your order. he’d rather order take out and have it delivered, but when you’re both out and hungry he’d take that social interaction bullet for you… he comes crawling back to you, flushed and hot in the face. it’d calm his nerves if you held his hand, Schatz :(

Loser!König unintentionally making you flustered. while König has no charisma when purposely trying to flirt with you, he has such cute ways of making your heart twist with love. when he fumbles a pickup line he’ll gently hold his own hands, weakly tugging at his fingers while he apologizes for sounding cringy - but you like the way his voice gets a little whiny when he nervously chuckles afterwards. he’ll excitedly come up to you, hands wildly gesturing while he tries to convey something cool he learned. he gets so close to you, too close. he’s nearly chest to… face with you, looking down at you with wide, blue eyes and a lopsided smile

CW: cockwarming, overstimulation (König!receiving)

Loser!König loves how needy you are, his sweet Liebling falling apart before anything even happens. what he didn’t expect, but comes to love immediately, is how desperate you are for him. he’s been touch-starved his whole life, he didn’t think anyone would understand the feeling. well, how wrong he was, behind closed doors when you’re pawing at him and asking him to touch you he’s absolutely delighted

Loser!König that worries about crushing you - well, hurting you in general. he tends to get a little lost in the moment, all sloppy kisses and mindless rutting. maybe that’s why he lets you crawl onto his lap to go at your own pace. he’s got his bottom lip sucked between his teeth, biting down a little too hard as he watches you. you’ve got König laying down in bed, he had been reading a book before you shyly came up to him. how was he supposed to resist you when you quietly asked if you could sit together

sitting together led to being on his lap, being on his lap led to you grinding against him. before Loser!König knew it you had his sweatpants and boxers tugged down, arms around his shoulders as you pressed your face against his neck. he can’t help but groan when you tell him you’ve been wanting him all day - that he looked so good wearing nothing special, hair messy and unkempt. maybe, just maybe, that’s how König ended up with you cockwarming him for the past couple minutes

Loser!König is just as desperate as you are though, a pathetic little whine leaving his mouth when he involuntarily bucks his hips up, face beet red when you moan and mouth at his neck. and then he whines, eyes fluttering shut when you ask him to be good for you, that you’ll make him feel good if he lets you rock against him until you can’t anymore. his hands are twisting against the sheets, legs twitchy when you pull an orgasm from him, “Bein’ good f’me, König—”. he can’t stop the tears lining his waterline from spilling, salty streaks running down his cheeks when you keep riding him. it’s too much, but he wouldn’t have it any other way - he’s all yours to use, Liebling

[knowei]

CW⚠️: scars and chemical burns, gore(???)

I just think he’s neat

[knowei]

Loser!Ghost that’s confident in his work. he’s a well-respected Lieutenant, a big, strong soldier that strikes fear into others. as soon as you walk into a room his dark brown eyes are glued to you. suddenly his lack of speaking isn’t from being reserved, it’s because he’s nervous

Loser!Ghost that’s silently eyeing you, making sure no one is bothering you from across the room. in his mind he’s just standing guard from afar, monitoring your environment. from everyone else’s perspective? their Lieutenant is staring straight at you - hasn’t moved or twitched for a couple minutes, just breathing steadily as he watches you

Loser!Ghost that sweats hard when he’s next to you. his breathing gets heavier, side-eyeing you while trying not to make any sudden movements. he feels like a wolf standing next to fawn - not that you’re frail or weak, not that you’re necessarily small, but because he doesn’t want to startle you. his heart beating wildly against his chest, sucking in a breath when you glance up at him

Loser!Ghost that’s stiff around you. even after he’s known you for a while he’s still on edge. he doesn’t want to sound too harsh, doesn’t want to seem too intimidating, doesn’t want to wig you out. he knows you tolerate him at least - he’s not great at reading you, too caught up in his head. when you talk to him, smiling up at him and friendly, all he can muster is a gruff hum, acknowledging your words with grumbled noises

CW: erm Virgin!Ghost because I said so?

Loser!Ghost that finds himself invited into your room - tense and heart beating rapidly. he isn’t too sure what to do, he isn’t sure what this is. he can’t find the words he needs, simply watching as you move about. when you ask him if he wants to stay over for the night his brain is doing backflips, it isn’t until you bluntly mumble that you want him that it clicks in his mind

Loser!Ghost who’s a virgin, never really having the time for hookups… or the charisma to land one. he can be a little off-putting, not the greatest quality for getting with someone. but you? you’ve noticed the way he behaves, oddly enamored by him. he doesn’t think to tell you he’s a virgin though, he’s too busy tugging his balaclava up to sloppily kiss you, hands moving to grab your hips - unpracticed movements, a silent excitement bubbling in his gut

Loser!Ghost whose balaclava is askew, half tugged up and awkwardly shifted to the left slightly. he can’t bring himself to care though, broken, deep groans rumbling from him as he tries to push into you. it takes a few tries before he’s nudging into you, eyes screwed shut as his hips stutter. he’s got you caged under him, forearms on either side of you as his forehead rests against your shoulder. he’s breathing heavily, panting against your skin

Loser!Ghost that doesn’t know what he’s doing, just moving on instinct. you feel so good, squeezing him just right as he sinks into you. garbled moans leaving him, his mouth pressed to yours as he bucks against you. you rarely hear Ghost speak, on and off duty, always quiet and looming. maybe that’s why he catches you off guard, hips moving erratically as he mumbles against your lips, “Love you—”

[knowei]

Nikto baring more than just scars. Something new. Something deep. Something stark against his grizzly ice cold visage.

Nikto with smile lines around his pretty almond eyes. Feline-like eyes all soft and relaxed when he looks at you, glacial blue irises swallowed up by the black of his pupils. It's when he goes back to work that Krueger notices the little creases indented around his shadowy eyes. stern. Cold. But still weeping with the marks of something soft and warm.

Nikto with a big slavic nose. It's so often covered with his mask, and he's always gently nudging you with it. It's beautiful- no matter how many times he rejects the compliment. The happy grumble that leaves his throat when your lips grace against it. It's no longer muffled and trapped against thick taut fabric- a striking feature hidden from sight. Now it hides in your hair. Your neck, the scent of your skin and sweet shampoo replacing the dirty fabric that smells of cold and grit.

Nikto's lips are torn and scarred, and yet they're so warm. Warmed by the tea he drinks with you, warmed by your soft lips gracing his. You let him kiss you. You let him. Your pretty mouth, so good- too good for what he feels he can offer.

He becomes something more than just a hideous snarl, a gnarling dog's bite. Baring his teeth to preserve what's left of his dampened soul, what's left of his tattered body. A corpse aching for more than just coarse dirt.

Your name seldom leaves his gnarling teeth. It's hidden between the seal of grit teeth and firm tongue- it's not meant for anyone else. You gave it to him. Your name exchanging between mouths. between teeth. You gave it to him so sweetly- so easily. As easy as breathing. How could he not give his back for such a gift? He has to protect it. From both comrades and enemies alike. They couldn't appreciate it like him. Not utter it like a prayer, filling his lungs with air and purpose.

Nikto who turns his nose up whenever someone remarks about the little subtle changes about him. Who needs to know? They don't need to know. He's not sweetened. Don't be ridiculous.

Lying has never been his strongest skill. But he can stay silent. He's good at that.

He can keep this secret. His secret.

[knowei]

do you see the vision

[knowei]

Johnny has been in a coma for 2 years 5 months, and 18 days. Who just barely survived long enough to get medical attention after Makarov. Who has become a part of the slim statistic of people who’ve survived a gunshot wound to the head. Whose brain scans show limited activity and such little chance of waking up.

But when his family gets asked if they’re ready to let him go his Ma shakes her head.

“God will take him when he’s ready.”

It’s not common that young guys get put in long-term care facilities like yours. Most of the time it’s older folks whose families can’t let them go and are using pensions to pay the rent costs.

At the start, his room is full of visitors. Big family. Very religious you’ve learned. A boy's bible is set alongside flowers.

Between the swathes of dark hair and bright blue eyes are a couple of other individuals. Quiet but polite.

“Teammates.” The dark-skinned man offers with a strained smile when you give him a curious look. “Military.”

It’s not long till his room quiets down. Visits becoming fewer. His family who was already a little detached from their son you concluded. Between the secretive work and deployments that kept him from home for months.

The team came by when they could though. Enough for you to learn their names and details about your resident.

You glean little things about him here and there. Find the sketchbook with his name on it left by the one named Simon. See the tattoo on his forearm obscured the thick curtain of arm hair. Listen politely to the questionable stories told by Gaz that always left Laswell's head shaking.

Quite the man Soap was is. No one’s given you an explanation on that nickname yet but the military guys that come in always call him by it.

You do what you can to keep him comfortable. Trimming his hair, changing out the gospel music for an audiobook every once in a while, talking to him whenever you’re in the room.

Well more so talking at him. Venting frustrations and complaints in hushed words so no one walking by hears you. Talking about your lazy coworkers, the overly loud upstairs neighbours in your apartment, and how you had to sit through another family dinner alone because your boyfriend made some excuse to not come again.

It’s easy to just talk when you’re in the room with him. Feels less like you’re going insane because you can reason that you’re talking for *his sake.* Not yours. Because what if he can hear you yknow?

……

You’ve just transferred him back over after changing his bed sheets, crouched and folding the linen under the mattress while you talk about your plans for this coming Christmas. How you’re excited for that one chocolate pop up shop that always comes to your mall-

You just about shit yourself when you stand back up and look to the head of the bed and see two slits of blue through his tan eyelids. Dark brown brows pinched in just slightly to create a crease between them.

……

A blinding white light accompanying a splitting headache was what he saw first. Eyelids sticky against his corneas. Weight of a thousand sins holding his muscles paralyzed and unable to flinch away.

Then the light flickered and he saw you.

Frizzy hair curling a fluorescent halo over your head. A swinging, unblinking eye glinting off of your chest.

Johnny who tells his weepy-eyed mother that it’s okay, he had the voice of an angel guiding him the whole time. That’s what brought him back.

[knowei]

🙏Please donate a small amount that may save my father's life, only 64€ left to buy my father's treatment, his doctor's appointment is tomorrow, please do not ignore my message and do not hesitate to help me❤️‍🩹

Account No. 8 due to repeated deletion😭💔

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