#/*cod x masked reader*/

[b1rds3ye]

Mask On

How the boys react to their new ally who is more adamant on wearing their mask than Ghost himself.

Characters: Captain John Price, Simon “Ghost” Riley, Johnny “Soap” MacTavish, Kyle “Gaz” Garrick

GN!Reader w/ no physical descriptions (except shorter than Ghost)

Genre: Fluff

Word Count: 3.1 (~0.8 each)

Warning: Canon-Typical Violence, Mentions of Reader potentially having insecurities, Not Proof Read

A/N: You know what maybe I want to be the badass masked character 😤

Captain John Price

The captain is thorough, and he immediately knew something was up when he looked up your file only to be greeted with no photo. He’s honestly a little peeved that his rank doesn’t grant him this confidential information, he’s known Simon before he took up the mask so this is the first time he’s genuinely had a faceless ally

But ultimately, as long as he can trust that you’ll be following orders, he doesn’t care if you have a mask or not. But his concern is only that for a fellow soldier

It takes a little longer for him to warm up to you - facial expressions tell a lot about someone’s character. He’s a bit prickly around you, he learns about you indirectly with how you interact with the rest of the 141

But over time there’s a shift. He can’t pinpoint when exactly but the sight of your mask relaxes him. After days separated on a mission, high stakes and adrenaline has Price snapping his head at the faintest of foreign sounds. But upon the familiar sight of your signature mask, he feels at ease

Price is fiercely protective of you and your mask. He likens it to his hat, only far more important - that mask is part of your identity and he knows just how important a soldier’s psyche is. If the enemy manages to take off your mask, he’ll stop at nothing to get it back on your behalf, even if you reluctantly tell him to abandon it

If he can’t salvage your mask, Price has now made it a habit to carry a balaclava for you in one of his pockets. If that’s not available, he’ll even offer you his hat, tipping it down far enough to obscure your eyes

Off duty he finds himself staring at your visage more these days. Looking at how the mask curves over your features, or the small slivers of skin that reveal themselves. He catches himself before you notice but he’s still disappointed in himself, he feels like a Victorian-era prude hyperventilating at the sight of an ankle

“Looking fresh, sergeant.”

You let out an audible chortle at Price’s words. The last mission was a success but at great costs, one of them being your mask damaged beyond repair during melee combat. Your face still wasn’t revealed, but slashes against fabric embedded with dirt and ash have made your signature mask look unrecognisable. Immediately upon returning to base and after debriefing, you were out of commission until you could don a new mask.

Price would be lying if said he didn’t miss your presence for the last few days, hiding away from the rest of the soldiers in base. He has no doubt you’ve still maintained your training and visiting the infirmary for mandatory checkups, but he’s gotten far too used to you being at his beck and call. The famed sight of your mask is no longer in his periphery, giving a nod of approval (not that he ever needed your approval, but he does enjoy your attention).

And now here you are with a new mask, the highlights glowing under the overhead lights and the darks swallowing up the lightwaves like an animal starved. Your updated look had you noticeably confident, shoulders square and head tall.

“Thanks, Captain.”

He can hear your smile and he ends up sitting next to you. Did he need to sit so close? No, but he acts as though his thigh brushing against yours was pure coincidence.

“What are you going to do with the old one?”

“I don’t know,” you shrug, giving a light pat to a pocket in your cargo pants that your past mask currently resides in. “I know there’s a lot of memories in this… it’s my first mask… but I don’t know what to do with it.”

“I’ll keep it.”

You look at him. Price now has the uncanny ability to read your mood purely through your body language. From the speed at which you turn your head, the inclination of the neck, how your shoulders slant, he’s surprised that such a vicious soldier can act so endearingly in these moments.

“For what?”

“Safekeeping,” he says simply. “I’m proud of my soldiers, sergeant - want to remember their accomplishments.”

You shrug in agreement and fish your mask out of your pocket. You don’t need to know how much Price truly values you, how having your mask will be like having a part of you by his side to motivate him when he’s working alone.

Simon “Ghost” Riley

You’ve got a mask? Cool, so does he. Simon really doesn’t care when he first met you. He offers a simple nod of acknowledgement to you and then it’s all mission talk. If anything, the mask makes him respect you more, like him it’s always the masked ones who’ve seen shit and can get shit done

Even before you two became friends, you two were often paired together for operations. Perhaps it was just assumed the two masked people were on the same wavelength and to be fair, they were right. It didn’t take long for Ghost to admire your prowess on the battlefield

However as the two of you start to get closer, Simon gets a bit of a eureka moment. So this is how all his allies feel when trying to get along with a masked figure, unable to see any of their expressions. Oh how the tables have turned. It’s not daunting for him, more just amusing

He knows the struggles of having a mask so he helps out where he can. He reminds you if it’s been some time since you last washed your mask (advice he does not follow himself) and he’ll offer you some of his obsidian powder he uses to obscure any uncovered patches of skin

Price often has the two of you accompany him for interrogations, he calls it “mask pressure”. There’s nothing more terrifying to a target than having two imposing faceless figures standing on either side of them, unreadable and unpredictable

It’s clear you don’t want to show your face to anyone and Simon doesn’t question it. His natural curiosity is not worth your discomfort and he makes that abundantly clear. If on the rare occasion you catch him without a mask, he’ll sometimes put it back on so that you don’t have to be the only one with their face covered

If your mask is ever compromised, Simon covers you with his hulking figure. No one dares get on the bad side of Ghost who shoots the most terrifying glares towards anyone looking in his - and consequently your - way. He stands in front of you, back rigid and shoulders square, his posture only slacking if he feels you hold onto his back, seeking comfort

A few weeks ago, when left in a briefing, you finally noticed Simon was staring at you from across the room. He had been staring for a good while now, but you - ever the diligent soldier - were distracted discussing tactics with a corporal. So there he was, standing and observing in the corner of the room - his “observing” being drinking the sight of you. And that was when he noticed, among all the glory that was you, that your mask was slightly off alignment. Cue his eyes being trained on your head for you to get the idea that something was wrong.

When your head stayed still - probably challenging his gaze - he tried to change tactics. He added the occasional upward jerk of the head - miming an attempt to shake the mask back in place - but your head only tilted in confusion. You still could not figure out what he was doing.

Eventually he gave up and walked up to you. He lifted a tentative hand, silently asking for permission and you nodded. He pinched at the fabric on the side of your face.

“Your mask’s slippin’,” he said gruffly. It wasn’t the end of the world, only a small adjustment that only someone as observant as him could notice. Still, he felt satisfied at your heavy exhale, you must’ve noticed it’s a little easier to breathe with everything in alignment now.

“Thanks.”

Today, Simon finds your gaze trained on him, head following whenever he moves across the room. You used to stare when you first met, you probably found him intimidating and he doesn’t blame you. He thought you’d be over that though, you two were closer than that. At least he hoped.

“Penny for your thoughts?” He eventually asks and that spurs you into action.

Standing in front of him, you reach up, your hand grabbing the top half of the skull that overlays his balaclava. Your thumb lightly hooks into the skull’s eye socket - a little close to Simon’s actual eye but he trusts you. He feels you tug upwards, and Simon now realises that the skull had been sinking down his face, the peripheral around his brow no longer obscured. He’ll need to reapply the glue for the mask later.

“We really need a hand sign for this,” you mutter.

And so you two make one. It’s discreet, a closed fist with a thumb poking out, dragged from the jawline up to the hairline. The rest of the 141 just look at the two of you in confusion whenever you use it though, your little secret.

Johnny “Soap” MacTavish

Johnny’s generally a good judge of character. Although it’s a little uncanny being unable to see your features, he’s used to it because of Simon. One conversation is all he needs to reach a conclusion as to what type of person you are and now he treats you as if you’re good friends

Yes, he is curious about what you look like under the mask. He used to make comments about it occasionally until he caught you on a bad day

“C’mon Sarge, just a peek.” “Not happening, Johnny.” “What, you ugly?” “… that’s not for you to speculate, MacTavish.” “Shit, sorry. I- I’d never think that of you, or care. I know you’re a looker.”

And Johnny stands by his statement. Even if he’s never seen your face he quickly developed a little crush on you. How you conduct yourself in battle has him watching you with stars in his eyes and he just knows you’ll take his breath away if you ever show your face

When Johnny’s bored, he likes doodling your mask and potential alternative designs in his journal which he’ll show you sometimes. He’s not an artist but he gets the idea across. He’s created a “happy” design, an “angry” one, and the “when I see Soap” design which is just your standard mask with a whole lot of shoddily drawn love hearts on it (you haven't seen that design yet)

He’s genuinely surprised at how determined you are at keeping your mask on in all circumstances - you’re worse than Simon at this point - but he’ll never ask because he doesn’t want to potentially open up old wounds. Despite his curiosity for what you could look like, Johnny will never invade your privacy and ensures no one else does either. If you’re in your room he’ll knock once, twice, thrice, until he’s absolutely sure you’re ready for him to enter

If something goes wrong and your mask falls off he’s looking away and shoving everyone else to look away as well. He’s like a guard dog, shouting and name-shaming anyone who dares look in your direction. No one except other members of the 141 will be able to approach you until you’re covered

Was it smart to have you and Soap - combined to be the most disruptive and obnoxious soldiers on the field - alone to handle a stealth mission that was off the books? No, but you sure as hell weren’t going to disappoint Price or Laswell. The objective was clear and the rules of engagement were even clearer; under no circumstance can the enemy know you’re from 141.

“We’re gonna need to cover our faces,” Johnny mutters absentmindedly beside you. You pull your binoculars down to send him an incredulous look and he chuckles. “I need to cover my face.”

“You got a mask?”

There’s a pause and Johnny’s looking at you, eyes glinting in that familiar mischief. That was never good news.

“You bet.”

You offer a tentative nod of encouragement before lifting your binoculars back up to observe the target site. You hear the repeated shuffles of fabric against fabric and clothes sliding against skin. It’s prolonged, you swear it’s enough time for Johnny to change his entire uniform. His breaths become muted, mouth now covered until it eventually falls to complete silence. It’s unnerving, the designated demolitions expert is not known for his silence, and you have to look back at him yet again.

Of course you expected Johnny to be wearing a mask, but it was the mask itself that took you by surprise.

“Is that… mine?”

“Was yours.”

You squint and somewhere in the depths of your mind, you vaguely recall Soap asking if he could have one of your spare masks back at the base. You humoured him, and said your wardrobe was his.

That was your first mistake.

You figured he was just going to take the piss, wear your mask to scare some privates around the base. You didn’t think he’d actually wear it on a mission. It was unexpected, but it felt like an honour. How he was so willing to identify with you in some of the most dangerous of situations.

But your silence has Johnny getting fidgety. He’s already reaching up to pull the mask off.

“I have a normal balaclava. If you don’t like this I can-”

“Wear it.”

You can’t see Johnny’s face but you see him pull his head back in surprise. Then he smiles, one so wide, expanding his cheeks you can see it stretch your mask. In that moment you’re glad your mask obscures your features as you feel yourself grin at his own joy.

“We’re a team, aye?”

“You bet.”

Kyle “Gaz” Garrick

Kyle’s may be close to Simon but he's not entirely used to masked allies. When you first arrived he shot Captain Price a cautious look, a silent conversation between them finished by Price’s definitive nod. Eventually he relents and puts up with you

Subconsciously, without seeing your face he ends up reducing you to a weapon. He respects you like a soldier, a robot. His language is restrained, only issuing orders and you recite them back

It’s only when another soldier cracks a joke on the mission and you laugh does it flick a switch in Kyle’s mind. You weren’t all orders, you weren’t a machine, you were a human (with a damn nice voice might he add). He feels terrible for reducing you to a tool simply because he can’t see your face but he’ll make up for it now

He becomes a bit of a menace in the sparse quiet moments of a mission. He makes the occasional one liner about how you wear the mask so others aren’t distracted by your good looks, but then changes the topic so quickly you’re not even sure he said it

Yes, Kyle’s a little obsessed with your voice. He can’t see you and he doesn’t have the experience like Price or Simon to read body language accurately. Instead, he can read your mood near perfectly with the inflections in your voice (which is arguably more impressive). While he doesn’t want you to ever be upset or angry, sometimes how you taunt the enemy has a shiver running down his spine

Because your mouth is blocked by a mask, many allies don’t offer you food or drinks. Not Kyle though, if he’s grabbed refreshments, he always ensures he has extra for you. At first he just gives them to you and then leaves. But when you said it was okay for him to stay - trusting him enough to just look away when you lift you mask - Kyle’s heart soared

If anything happens to reveal your face, Kyle is immediately by your side. He pulls you close to provide comfort, while also guiding your head into his neck or shoulder to block anyone from seeing you. Another member of the 141 will find a solution to cover your face, you are Kyle’s first priority and he’ll gladly hold you all day

After a long mission, you and Kyle are finally safe upon reaching exfil. Sitting on a helicopter Kyle slumps against his seat, and you do the same beside him. Although he could finally relax, he feels absolutely filthy, swamped in his own sweat under multiple layers. Dirt and mud caked his boots and crept all the way up to his thighs. Some even sneaked up into under his tactical vest.

He spares a look and sometimes he thinks you can’t possibly be human. The heat is suffocating enough without a mask, Kyle has long forgone his signature cap to let his head breathe. If your body language was any indicator, you weren’t handling the sweltering heat of the helicopter engine or Al Mazrah’s temperament. Your chest notably heaving under the weight of your tactical gear, breaths so laboured it sent the fabric around your mouth pulling and billowing with each inhale and exhale.

There isn’t much Kyle can do for comfort, but he tries. He shifts a little closer to you. Your head shifts to look at him, the movement was far too slow, like your head was too heavy and his heart tugs a little.

With one hand, Kyle gently tilts your face up to him. With the other he lightly pinches the fabric of your mask at the junction between your jawline and ear. Teasing it between his fingers, when he pulls his hand away there’s gunk on his fingertips. Dust, dirt and as he squints at your mask he realises that some of the stains are likely the dried blood of an unidentified enemy.

The hand he’s resting on your chin is about to pull away until he notices how you’re resting your head on it. He can’t see your face but he has no doubt that your eyes are near shut, almost drifting off to dreamland. He occupies himself by gently brushing away loose debris off your mask which has you relaxing further into his touch.

“We gotta wash this,” he murmurs defeatedly.

“... yeah, we do,” you grumble, voice thick with fatigue. Kyle does not stop his ministrations - even pulling some fluff off of the cotton of your mask. It does little to actually clean your mask - at this rate it’s going to need pure bleach to clean it - but he can’t bring himself to stop. Not when you trust him this much, leaning into his touch, entrusting him to be the respite from your mission.

Masked Reader Masterlist Call of Duty Masterlist

[bi-writes]

your lieutenant won't take off his mask for you. ehhhh, but you can make it work, right? (18+, ghost x fem!reader)

"no one sees my face. not even you, bunny."

but you don't mind. his face surely isn't the thing that drew you to him in the first place. no, it was when you were sitting in a loud room, and it immediately went quiet because ghost shuffled in. when you watched him duck his fucking head to get through the door only to stand there broader than the width of it. when he looked down at you with what was definitely a scowl under that mask and grumbled out "little bunny" at you in the filthiest voice you'd ever heard.

he could call you those names all he wants; he likes bunnies.

it doesn't bother you, that he doesn't want to take off his mask. you can still kiss him nasty through it.

as far as you're concerned, that's his face. you pet it like it is as least, cupping his cheeks and pulling him close, nuzzling your nose against his. he huffs underneath it, but he never pulls away, and you lick a fat stripe over the bony cheek of his mask, whining when you taste salt and sand and gunpowder.

you soak it with your spit. you cradle his head, tilting it this way and that, flattening your tongue and licking over his jaw. he holds back a groan as you kiss him open-mouthed through it, pinching his fat cheeks and planting wet kiss after wet kiss over his puckered lips. his lips part easily for you, shaky breaths like music to you, and whenever you let out a soft moan, he can't help the way he fists your ass and pulls you closer.

you want him to taste you. you force his neck back, pulling his chin down, and you lean over him just enough that you can spit on the front of his mask. you press your face to his after, using your tongue to soak it into the fabric, and you practically purr when you feel his tongue pressing back, cotton practically dripping with your saliva as he sucks on it.

you can't wait to sit on his face next. top 10 ways to die, water-boarded by pussy has to be one of them.

[ricemerc]

— Do you really wonna see what's under that mask? I know how to untie ropes, honey /ᐠ-⩊-ᐟ\

[bewitchedsouls]

princess treatment with simon

warning : use of the word wife

• simon is the kind of man to tell you to sit down as he gets on one knee and puts your high heels on for you and straps them when you’re getting ready to go out for a date night

• simon who will come up behind you, move your hair to the side and gently run his fingers down your naked back and feel the goosebumps as he goes to the bottom of your dress to zip it up for you without you even asking

• simon who will open every door for you, (don’t you dare get out of that car yourself), if you even try he will gently put you back into the car, close the door on you and then proceed to open it again, because simon is a gentleman and will never be caught not opening the door for you

• simon who escorts you into a room with a hand placed on your lower back as he rubs slowly up and down to soothe the both of you

• simon who will pull out your chair for you and once he’s pushed it back in before taking his own seat he will lean down and place a gentle kiss to your temple

• simon who tells you before you even leave the house to keep your purse at home because you are his beautiful wife and he believes you shouldn’t pay for a single thing

• simon who tells you to pick anything you want from the menu, any drink, any food, don’t even look at the price because he does not care, you deserve the world and he’s slowly trying to get that for you

[metallictastinglifesupportliquid]

Y/N: I'm at that very special age where I only have one thing on my mind Soap: Masked men? Y/N: Homicide Y/N: But yeah masked men too

[tawnfawn]

intoxicated | könig

summary: you get along with everyone on your team, except for könig. you think he hates you, but his perceived distaste for you only makes you want him more. you're able to keep your composure until you're partnered up for a mission, where everything seems to go wrong...

tags: könig x fem!reader smut. cod. pure filthy, shameless smut. sex pollen. proofread. MDNI. 5,000+ words

cw: dubcon (due to sex pollen but there's clear consent before and after). unprotected sex (reader IS on birth control, wrap it before you tap it), p in v, oral m!receiving, fingering, accidental drug use (sex pollen), dom!könig and sub!reader, light humiliation kink, heavy praise, size kink if you squint, overstimulation, mutual pining, violence, killing.

MDNI. NSFW BELOW THE CUT

You crept around the corner of the warehouse with your rifle, watching König’s six as you progressed. The other KorTac members were stationed on site as well, giving quick updates through comms as you progressed. Details were scarce, except that in the warehouse, a Russian terrorist group was producing a bioweapon capable of mass destruction—and anyone inside was KOS.

Of course, the bioweapon in question was…dubious, to say the least. A strong aphrodisiac, the contractor had explained, much to the astonishment of your team. During the briefing, you’d managed to keep a straight face, but not all of your teammates were as courteous.

“So let me get this straight—you want us to risk our lives for…Viagra?” Horangi had questioned, exasperated. Your lips pursed at his crudeness, but it was exactly what you were thinking too.

The scientist’s face flushed. “N-no, this is much different,” he snapped. As one of the architects of the bioweapon, he was clearly offended. “It is much, much stronger. Exposure to just one dose will cause severe arousal: heart palpitations, excessive sweating, overheating. Imagine…” He seemed to be struggling to find the words. “Imagine a brain overload, yes? Rational thinking…disappears. Victims may lose all motor control. Too long without treatment can result in heart failure, aneurysms, seizures, stroke, and sometimes death.”

“So what is the treatment?” you interrupted, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Sex,” the scientist answered, shifting uncomfortably on his heels. “It was designed to be, ah… difficult.”

Your jaw clenched, and your eyes darted to König. He was staring down the scientist, narrowed eyes betraying no emotion. While everyone else struggled to keep their bafflement hidden, his sniper hood obscured any hope of reading him. Just my fucking luck, you thought when you were partnered with him.

It wasn’t that you disliked König; it was just that you found it so much more difficult to talk to him. With the rest of your teammates, you were fine. A natural people reader, you were comfortable with the rest of them, relying on body language and the details they let slip to learn more about them. In fact, you considered yourself to be pretty close with them—unsurprising, given that in your line of work, your life rested in their hands and vice versa. But König was… different. You didn’t distrust him, per say, but outside of the battlefield, he was quiet. Reclusive. No matter how many times you’d tried to get him to open up, he barely interacted with you, despite talking to the others. You’d chalked it down to being the newest on the team at first, but now that you’d served over a year and a half together, you were frustrated. Shouldn’t that be well enough time to open up at least a little bit?

You knew your thinking was illogical. Your job was to hunt targets and invade bases, not deep dive into your coworker’s soul, but you couldn’t help the way it took over your mind. Your need to understand him had become a bit of an obsession. You constantly found yourself looking at him, trying to discern any emotion his eyes betrayed. You listened intently for any of his input in person or on comms, no matter how menial it was. You studied his body language, taken note of any habits or gestures. You’d even memorized the way he reloaded his guns.

It was…embarrassing, to say the least. But could you blame yourself? He was so tall and strong and imposing that even just standing next to him made you, a normally very confident and intimidating woman, feel small. Such was the reason that you pushed yourself extra harder whenever you were paired up with him, making sure he knew you were valuable, a force to be reckoned with. Your excellent performance had made you two quite the duo, often clearing out legions of enemies in mere minutes. And you had to admit, seeing him absolutely obliterate enemy lines made you feel some type of way…

But not like that, of course. You were just…curious. When he finally opened up to you (and not if, but when), your obsession would stop, and everything would be fine. At least, that’s what you told yourself.

Today, however, there were a lot less enemies than you’d expected. Sure, there were quite a few soldiers stationed around the warehouse (which your team had incapacitated quickly), but inside, save for some scientists and the occasional guard, it was eerily empty and quiet.

“It’s fucking cold,” Horangi’s voice rang out from your radio. You sighed and brought the device to your lips.

“It’s fucking Russia,” you stated. “What did you think it’d be? Beachy?”

König’s quiet chuckle sounded from in front of you, and you couldn’t help the pride that swarmed in your heart. Heat burst in your cheeks, but you tried to brush it off.

“Fuck off,” Horangi replied. “East side clear.”

“West unknown,” you said. “Standby.” You tucked the radio back into your pocket, following your teammate.

You both peeked around the corner to the last room. It was filled to the brim with lab equipment—beakers, bunsen burners, flasks, microscopes—all sitting atop of large resin tables. Bright, fluorescent lights bounced off the sterile grey walls and ceiling, creating a dull glare that was almost depressing. Neat racks of tightly sealed vials and test tubes peeked through glass cabinets on the walls, parallel to the large sinks below. Across the room was a row of unfamiliar-looking equipment, and next to that, an enormous whiteboard boasting messily scrawled notes, diagrams, and equations. A bag of what looked like takeout sat on a nearby desk next to a crumpled napkin and a perspiring styrofoam cup. It was almost exactly what you’d imagined a stereotypical laboratory to look like, albeit a bit messier and more lived in. A singular man stood working at one of the tables, frantically scribbling on a notepad with his back facing toward you. König motioned for you to stay put as he crept forward. You complied.

Then the man dropped his pen.

“Xyй,” he cursed and turned around to pick it up. Of course, when he turned around, he saw König’s gigantic form pointing a gun at him, and he screamed. You fired your suppressed pistol, but not before the scientist hurled a glass vial at König. It shattered against his tactical vest as the dead scientist crumpled to the ground, releasing a burst of lavender-colored smoke that curled into the air and quickly dissipated.

König ripped off his tactical vest, coughing violently, but it was too late—the substance had already entered his lungs, likely reaching his bloodstream by now. He stared at you, blue eyes wide with—for the first time you’d ever seen—fear. 

“Oh, fuck,” he muttered, and he staggered to the wall, crashing down to the floor.

“König?” You stared at him, stricken. His eyes were closed, and he was stock still—stiller than you’d ever seen him—and for a long, hard moment, you thought he might be dead. 

Then his eyes snapped open. His pupils were dilated and blown, a sea of black barely tinged by blue irises. He stared at you, unmoving, before letting out a groan and bringing his hand over his face.

“Oh, fuck,” you whispered. You grabbed your radio. “M-man down!” you stammered into it. “König’s been exposed. West side clear. Requesting med evac in thirty minutes. Going dark.” You turned it off, not bothering to listen to any input. The rest of your team knew what this meant. As did you.

In the time you’d been on the radio, König had torn off all of his other gear, leaving himself in just his shirt, pants, and boots. He was panting, his chest heaving with each breath, ungloved hand still hiding his masked face as he cursed in German.

You crossed the room in seconds and kneeled at his side. “Hey, it’s gonna be okay, König, just breathe—”

“No,” he breathed. His voice was deeper, raspier than normal, and the unbridled heat in it sent a shiver down your spine. His hands were clenched into fists, body tensed as he fought the invisible infection. “Go. Now.”

“You know I can’t leave—”

His hand fell to his side, letting his eyes meeting yours for a split second. “Please,” he groaned, starting to tremble as you drew closer. “I—I can’t—”

His gaze strayed lower, and you followed it to the growing bulge in his pants. You gulped, unmoving, and he grabbed your arm. The force of it was enough to make you still.

“Go,” he insisted, his accent even thicker than usual. “I’m not—I cannot control myself.”

“I’m not gonna leave you here!” you argued, swatting his hand away. “You’re my teammate. You could die.”

“I will hurt you,” he retorted. All the muscles in his body were tensed, clearly on overdrive. Even his eyes were watering. “Please, maus. I am not gentle.”

Something inside about his statement made your thighs clench together, but you tried to ignore it. Tentatively, you brought your hand to his chin, pulling his face towards you. His skin was feverish, and your heart twisted in sympathy. “Let me help you,” you pleaded, and he inhaled sharply.

“It feels like I’m burning,” he hissed, and you frowned. His black compression shirt was nearly soaked with sweat, and you grabbed the fabric, pulling it up. He pawed at your arm weakly, but you shushed him.

“You’re overheating. Take it off,” you ordered, and finally, he let you pull it over his head, sagging back against the wall as you threw it to the side.

You’d seen him without a shirt before—it was hard not to with this kind of job, what with donning injuries all the time—but this was different. His head was thrown back as he panted, toned chest heaving with each breath, and you could see all of the muscles in his chiseled abdomen clenched, glistening with a thin sheen of sweat. It was… erotic. Just looking at him made you feel dirty. You felt the thrum of something other than worry in your abdomen, and you swallowed.

“Leave me,” König growled, but it sounded more desperate than commanding. You shook your head at him.

“Not letting you die, König.” You began to rip off your gear, tugging off your tactical vest and discarding your weapons. 

König grabbed your wrist. “What are you…?”

“Wanna help you, okay?” you said softly, trying to catch his eyes as they darted over your face. “Are you gonna let me?”

He took in a deep breath, his other hand in a death grip on his thigh. “I-I don’t want to hurt you,” he repeated, but it was starting to lose its original harshness. He was fading, and fast.

“It’s okay,” you murmured. You placed your hand on his bare chest, feeling the way his heartbeat stuttered and stammered under your touch. He cursed in response, the hand on your wrist twitching, clearly fighting the urge to touch you. In a split-second decision, you swung your right leg over his lap and straddled him, careful not to grind against him, waiting for an answer first. He let out a choked noise and grabbed you by the hips, his tight grip making you gasp. “Yes or no?” you breathed.

“Ahhh, maus.” The low groan he let out was nearly animalistic. “Yes,” he begged, and that was all you needed to hear.

You started grinding on his lap gently, trying to restrain yourself from going further. You wanted to be mindful of his sensitivity, but König simply huffed in annoyance and used his tight grip on your hips to tug you all the way down into his lap—allowing you to feel everything. The imprint of his hard, throbbing cock made you dizzy; you couldn’t resist pressing against it, moaning softly at the delicious friction it granted your clit.

“Scheiße,” König murmured, his thighs twitching underneath you. You felt bad, knowing he was probably dying for some real contact, so you decided to give it to him.

Your heart raced as you reached for his waistband, unbuckling his belt and sliding his pants to his knees. His cock was straining against his briefs, a wet patch forming from precum, and you quickly removed those as well, watching his hardened cock spring up and then fall slightly, its weight making it unable to reach his stomach. Your mouth went dry. Fuck, he was huge. You supposed it made sense: as an exceptionally large man, it was logical to have a proportionally large cock, but the sight of it still shocked you.

“Maus,” he whispered, breaking you out of your trance. He stared at you apprehensively, and you wrapped your much smaller hands around his cock, hearing him suck in a breath. You took a moment to marvel at the sheer size of him—your normally average-sized fingers looked miniature in contrast, unable to even fully wrap around his length. You felt your own arousal seep into your underwear, and you leaned down to kiss his tip.

The moan he let out turned you on even more than before, and you wasted no time teasing him, spitting into your hand and pumping his cock a few times before bringing the tip into your mouth, swirling your tongue over the slit before pushing him further down your throat. His cock was so large that you had to fight not to scrape your teeth against it, flattening your tongue under the base of it.

His hand fisted into your hair, pulling slightly every time you moved your lips up and down his shaft, twisting your hand in tandem. Your other hand gripped onto one of his thick thighs, feeling his leg twitch as he struggled not to buck his hips up into your mouth. Each strained noise and curse you coaxed from him only encouraged you more, your own whimpers muffled against his cock as you did your best to fit him down your throat.

After only a few minutes, you felt him twitching in your hand and sped up your pace, determined to pleasure him as much as possible. Curses fell from his lips as he finished, hot spurts of his release shooting down your throat. You swallowed it quickly, continuing to pump your hand up and down his still rock-hard shaft.

König, however, pulled you off quickly, eyes wide and dark with an almost fearful desperation as he stared at you. “The poison. It’s still…”

You looked back down to see his cock still twitching in your hand. “It’s okay,” you said, starting to lean back down, “I’ll just—”

“No!” He pulled you back up by the neck. You blinked at him in shock, and he stared back, pupils blown wide like black moons. There was a fiery hunger in his eyes as he looked at you, one you’d never seen before. The sheer want in his gaze sent a cold shiver down your spine. No one had ever looked at you like this before—like you were prey.

“König?” you asked nervously.

Instead of answering, he began to unbuckle your belt, and you gasped as his hand reached under your waistband to cup your clothed core, index finger tracing lightly over your clit. You fought back a mewl, chest seizing as you shut your eyes from the pleasure.

“So wet,” he marveled. He pushed your underwear to the side, smearing your arousal over your soaked folds as you whimpered, bucking your hips into his hand. “Just from sucking my cock?”

His switch in demeanor startled you, and you moaned as one of his large fingers pressed into your weeping hole, curling inside you with precision. His hands were so much bigger than yours; the stretch was making your knees weak. He quickly found your G-spot, taking care to press against it as you arched into him. “Oh, oh, fuck, König,” you whimpered, coaxing a dark chuckle from him that made you clench around him.

Your thighs clenched around his hand, but he pried them apart with ease, forcing you to straddle him and rendering you helpless to his ministrations as he slowly dragged another finger in and out of you. With each achingly slow push into your dripping hole, he made sure to curl them just right, long fingers able to reach that sensitive spongy spot inside you effortlessly. His palm laid flat against your clit as he stroked your walls, letting you sloppily grind into his hand as he murmured praise into your ear.

“Does that feel good, liebling?” he asked, drinking in each of your breathy, pleasured noises with satisfaction. “You like making a mess on my fingers, mm?”

You simply whimpered, too embarrassed of your flustered state to form a real response. He seemed to pick up the hint, giving you a cocky smirk through his mask. “Ohh, it’s okay, maus,” he cooed, but his soft words were laced with a smug condescension that made your cheeks burn. “You look so pretty like this, all dumb on my fingers. I wish I could’ve seen it earlier.”

You whined again, desperately grinding down on his palm for more friction. His slow pace was torturous, giving you just enough to feel pleasure but not enough to build it. It was mean. It was twisted. It was agonizing. You were eating it up.

“Please,” you tried, teary eyes boring into his. “Can you—can you please—”

“Can I what, maus?” He cocked his head, darkened eyes twinkling with mirth. “Tell me, or I can’t help you.”

You know what I want, you wanted to shout at him, but you knew that wouldn’t work. “Please,” you begged, “I need more."

“What more do you need, maus?” he asked again. “You have a mouth. Use it.”

“Need you to—” You whimpered pitifully, dropping your head into his shoulder. “Please, need you to go—go harder.” You nearly sobbed out the words, desperation winning out over your embarrassment. You were mortified at your teary, shaking voice, but he seemed to revel in it, squeezing your thigh in appreciation.

“Oh, is that what you wanted?” he teased, and you could hear the smirk in his voice. “You could have just said so.”

He set a steady pace with his fingers, bullying them inside of you hard enough to make you squirm against him. With each thrust, he curled them just right, sending your eyes rolling back and mouth falling open in heavy pants as you mewled into his shoulder. You were grateful to be spared of his intense gaze; you didn’t think you could look at him in the state you were in. It was mortifying just hearing the sounds of his fingers pumping in and out of your gushing cunt.

“Oh, maus,” he cooed into your ear as you trembled, keening at the stretch of his fingers. “You’re just so beautiful like this, you know. So fucking desperate and pathetic. I wish I could see you like this all the time.”

Would I like him to finger me like this all the time? Hell yes, you thought to yourself, but you couldn’t find the words to tell him, only able to whine and nod vigorously into his shoulder, lost in the feeling of his fingers inside you. You could feel yourself starting to reach the edge of your climax, grinding harder and harder into his palm and gasping with each spark of pleasure it gave your throbbing clit. You were so wet that you were starting to wonder if you’d been infected, too; each time he hit your g-spot just right, you felt more and more slick dribbling out of you and down your thighs. It was driving you insane.

“K-König!” You managed a cry of his name right before you came, clenching around his fingers as you bucked your hips into his hand. Breathy whines fell from your lips, your thighs shaking and seizing as you squirmed in his hold, feeling an almost overwhelming wave of pleasure wash over your body. The feeling was so intense it was almost painful; you hadn’t had an orgasm in so long, and the effect was palpable. His arms held you tight, keeping you grounded while you shuddered in his grasp, his big fingers determined to prolong your ecstasy.

When you finally came down from your high, you couldn’t look at him, mortified at your messy state. His fingers were still knuckle-deep in your arousal, and you could feel more of your slick dripping down your thighs, wet and uncomfortable. You kept your head buried in his chest shyly while your happy cunt stayed spasming in his hand.

“Okay, schatz?” he asked softly, using his free hand to tilt your head towards him. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

You stared up at him, mouth open. There were practically hearts in your eyes; your adoration was clear to him, and he laughed at your expression, cradling your cheek with his hand. “Aww, schatz.” He clicked his tongue, a smile audible in his voice. “You’re so sweet.”

Your cheeks burned red at the words, and you blinked rapidly, unable to look away. His piercing blue eyes stayed trained on yours, but there was a warmth in them that soothed you. He petted your cheek, lifting his hood to press a kiss to your forehead.

Your mind felt fuzzy. All you could think about was your need to be filled by him, and you pawed at his hard cock, wrapping your fingers around the base of it. A hiss of pleasure escaped him, and you kept your eyes on his, wide and pleading. “Please fuck me,” you whispered, still trembling in his grasp.

König’s eyes darkened, and he tugged off the rest of your bottoms quickly. His strong hands lifted you to hover you over his cock, and you shuddered with anticipation, head spinning. He rubbed the tip through your dripping folds, coaxing out a gasp as it brushed over your swollen clit. You tried to push him inside, squirming, but his tight grip on the bottoms of your thighs kept you in place, and you whined his name, hoping he would take pity on you.

“Bitte, König,” you begged, and he practically growled at the words, mercifully allowing you to sink onto the tip of his cock and drawing out a desperate mewl. Even with how wet you were, he was so, so big that he was practically tearing you in half.

“K-König—”

“Hush, liebling,” he soothed, and you moaned as your core clenched around him, beacons of pleasure ripping through you from just the feel of him. He waited for you to relax and then pushed in farther as you gasped at his length.

“Mmph! König—” You keened as he continued to push himself into you, waiting each time to make sure you were okay. You could feel his hard cock twitch with each thrust, and you knew it must be difficult for him not to go straight into fucking you, that he was holding himself back to be more gentle. The thought only made you moan louder.

Tears slipped down your cheeks when he finally bottomed out, and he wiped them away with his thumb. “I’m sorry, maus,” he groaned, no doubt feeling the way you clenched around him. “You’re just—so tight—”

You wanted to tell him to it was okay, but from your already fucked out mind, all that came out was a dumb whimper of his name. In response, he pulled up his sniper hood to kiss your forehead, to which you whined and chased his lips with your mouth. This made him chuckle, and he guided your lips to his, coaxing out a soft moan as his tongue met yours. He tasted wonderful, and you mewled into his mouth, feeling even more worked up from the way he kissed you: hot and desperate and sweet, like the world was ending and you were the last ones in it.

“Mein maus,” he growled, suddenly thrusting up into you and making your eyes roll back. His hips snapped against yours, setting a pace that sent your thoughts reeling. “Taking me so well, doing so good for me, hm? Du bist mein schatz, ja?”

“Yes, fuck—yes,” you babbled, barely able to understand what he was saying. His unusually rough tone was fogging up your dumbed-out mind, the contrast between his sweet words and punishing pace reducing you to nothing but a crying, creaming mess. You’d never been this wet for someone before. “Yes, yes, yes, I’m yours, please—”

“Good girl,” he moaned, pushing you up and down his cock with dizzying strength. Your legs tightened around his waist as he thrust up into you, high-pitched and pitiful noises falling from your lips at a shameful volume. He was using you like a toy, you thought, and the notion of it made your pleasured cries even louder.

“Mmm, yeah? Mmm?” He mimicked your breathy moans, and you could hear the grin in his voice. Normally, you’d be mortified, likely retorting with some witty insult, but now? Now with the way he was fucking you, all you could do was whine in pitiful response.

“So needy for me,” he groaned, punctuating each word with a deep thrust. The sheer force of him made your eyes roll back, and you felt that tight coil in your belly close to snapping.

“Fuck, König—” You panted heavily, your legs starting to give out. “K-König, oh my God, I’m gonna—”

“I know,” he cooed, pulling you closer to his chest so your clit could find purchase on his toned abs. “Doing so good for me, schatz. Such a good girl, getting off on me like this. Like the way I feel, mm?”

His sweet praise became your tipping point, your orgasm hitting you like a freight train. You cried his name, mouth falling open in shock as your legs kicked out, your cunt weeping and convulsing around him as you keened. You gasped for air as your orgasm rocked through you, the pleasure suddenly becoming all too much as he continued to drill himself into your gushing cunt.

Tears streamed down your cheeks as you sobbed from the overstimulation, but he didn’t let up his pace, pressing chaste kisses to your lips to soothe you. “Wonder how many orgasms I can get from you,” he murmured. You could hear the smile in his voice as he panted. “How many more, mein schatz?”

“I—I don’t know!” you cried as his pelvis dragged against your clit, sending shocks of electricity through you. “I don’t—I can’t—”

He groaned as you trembled in his hold, pretty blue eyes boring into yours. “You can do it for me,” he replied. “I know you can. Isn’t that right, liebling?”

“Ahh—König—” The juxtaposition of his soft kisses and brutal pace was making your head spin. Too overwhelmed to answer, you just clutched onto his shoulders tighter, crying out every time his skin brushed against your puffy, overstimulated clit. It was painful. It was overwhelming. It felt so fucking good.

“Hush, mein schatz,” he coaxed, holding you closer as you clenched around his cock, babbling incoherently as he fucked up into you. “You’re doing so good, I promise.”

The answer was two. Two more earth-shattering orgasms before he finally went soft, coming inside of you twice before either (1), his dick just gave out, or (2), the poison wore off. Either way, by the end of it, you were exhausted and fucked out, still recovering from your cock-drunk state as he cleaned you up.

“I’m sorry, maus,” he apologized, sounding genuinely remorseful as he gently wiped your soaked thighs with a clean cloth he had found in the room. “I’m so sorry, I don’t—I don’t know what came over me.”

“Drugs,” you supplied, staring at the ceiling in exhaustion. “Really bad drugs.”

“Yes, drugs,” he agreed, carefully mopping your folds as you sighed. “But still—I am sorry. I was…overzealous. I hope I did not hurt you too bad.”

“I’ll be a little sore,” you admitted, glancing at the bruises his fingers had left on your waist and hips. “But I’ll be fine, trust me.”

He sighed, somehow managing to look resigned even with the sniper hood. “I should not have been so hard on you. I’m sorry.”

“Honestly?” you murmured, blinking at him sleepily. “That was the best sex I’ve ever had.”

He froze for a moment. “What?” 

“Not that I’ve had a lot of sex,” you said quickly. “But still, that was the best I’ve ever had. Probably will ever have, now that I think about it. You must be very experienced. Oh God, I should not have said that out loud. I am—I am so sorry.”

Even with his sniper hood on, you could tell he was blushing. “Oh, um—it’s okay, maus.” You could hear the shyness in his voice. “I do not consider that to be my best performance, but I will take it as a compliment.”

“Your best performance?” You stared at him, mind running through everything that had just happened. You’d had sex before, but that—that was a whole ass experience. You’d never even dreamed about anything that good. “Christ, what’s your best performance, then?”

“Well,” he replied, sliding your soaked underwear back up your legs for you, “I would have taken you out on a date first, at the very least. That would be the proper way to court you.”

“Court me?” you repeated, sitting up straight. “I didn’t know you were so well-mannered, König.”

He looked away from you, shifting awkwardly from his spot on the floor. “I try to be courteous before sticking my dick in people.”

It took you a moment to realize he was joking, and you laughed—actually really laughed out loud. His awkward humor was charming you, and you felt warmth swell in your chest as you listened to him speak. You grinned at him, his eyes crinkling in a smile back.

König still smiled, but a hint of sadness pervaded his gaze. “Ah, schatz.” He hesitated. “I would have liked to make love to you,” he sighed, “but I did not imagine these would be the circumstances. I was hoping to take you on a date first, get to know you better.”

“You wanted to what?” Your eyes widened, and you blinked in confusion. “But…I thought you didn’t like me.”

König practically jolted in place. It was like you’d electrocuted him. He stared at you. “Why would you ever think that?”

“You talk to everyone but me,” you said softly. “I thought you didn’t trust me. Thought you hated me.”

“Hated—?” He shook his head vigorously. “No, I wanted to speak to you. You just…made me nervous. The others do not.”

“I made you nervous?” The words fell from your lips with shock, your eyebrows furrowing. “How would I—how did I ever make you nervous? You’re like three times the size of me!”

König shrugged, sheepish. “You’re very pretty. And you seemed…kind, and well-connected with the others. I have trouble finding that connection. I didn’t want to say the wrong thing to you and fuck it up.”

“So you said nothing at all.” You were quiet for a moment, turning over the information in your mind. “Wow. I was way off.”

“Yes,” he agreed, “but it is okay. I’m sorry for making you think I disliked you, schatz.”

“It’s okay,” you chuckled, shaking your head in disbelief. You ran a hand through your hair, beyond shocked at everything happening. You couldn’t believe you’d fucked your colleague, the one you’d had a crush on for who knows long, and also discovered that he didn’t, in fact, hate you. “At least I know now.”

“Next time, I will be better,” König vowed, helping you tug on your pants. “More gentle. I will do things right, I promise.”

“Next time?” You hesitated, biting your lip. “There will be a next time?”

“Of course there will,” he answered, adjusting his tactical gloves. “Did you not hear what I said earlier?”

“Um…which one?” He’d said a lot of things earlier.

He helped you to your feet, towering over you as he cupped his large hand under your jaw. Your heart stopped in your chest as you looked up into his eyes, his large frame dwarfing yours beyond comparison. “Du bist mein schatz, ja?” he repeated, gloved thumb tracing over your bottom lip. His very soul seemed to ooze confidence. “That’s what I said, no?’

With the way he was making you feel right now, you didn’t think it was even possible to say the word no. “Y-yes,” you stammered, adoration clear in your eyes as you gazed up at him.

He chuckled and pressed a kiss to your forehead. “So there will be a next time. Unless, of course, you don’t want to.”

“N-no, no, no, I definitely want!” you said quickly. You stumbled over your words in your eagerness, and your cheeks flushed in embarrassment. “I would like that a lot.”

“Good,” he said, patting the top of your head. Normally, you’d be furious at such an action, but considering his height, it seemed more practical than condescending. “Now come, schatz,” he said, adjusting his vest. “Time to deny everything to the rest of the team.”

Oh, fuck. You sighed. “Yeah…I forgot about that.”

[simply-ewok]

simon riley hates seeing those dumb videos that pop up on everyone’s phone. they’re addictive. filled with nonsense and ads. and then you tell him you’ve lost hours to them scrolling on a single app? no. what the fuck do you mean, lass? he hates when you press him to “just look, si! pleeeaasee, see?” and it takes him forever to even amuse you by glancing briefly at your screen, only to see a picture to music of two bottles (ketchup and mustard) with the caption “us” below it. and the first time he responds with a blank stare at you, but while he shakes his head as he walks away even he would hate to admit that he smiled… time goes by and you show him another odd reel here and there, him always playing the unapproving lieutenant, before eventually, you notice he’s asking you “what’s tha’ one wi’ the two cats again?” or “i like tha’ one of th’ dog”, and you can’t help but giggle, knowing full well what you accomplished.

it evolves to the point of you sharing your brain rot memes with him and you’re able to hear a stifled chuckle from beneath his mask, despite his efforts to hide it.

[simonriley09]

Mask Kink - König [Kinktober Day 28]

TW/CW: KINK, SIZE DIFFERENCE, FEM!READER X COD, OLDER!KÖNIG X YOUNGER!READER

König usually keeps his mask and uniform away from his little liebling so when you saw him in full gear for the first time your cunt clenched around air. He notices your needy expression and grins under his mask. "You like vat you see schatz?" He watched you nod eagerly, strutting over to him to poke at his gear, making him laugh. He soon left for a mission but when he came back tired and covered in mud he was flabbergasted at what you asked him. "H-huh? Maus... say.. say zhat again?"

"I asked can you fuck me with your mask and gear on?, pleaaaase!" You asked, looking so innocent but having such a dirty favor. König practically pounced on you once you asked him that, he threw you over his shoulder, walking to the bedroom. His footsteps loud and echoing in the tiny apartment.

He put you on the bed, getting ontop of you and bite down harshly on one of your nipples through the thin fabric of your tanktop. Slurping and wetting it. You squealed, squirming and pawing at his helmet, trying to grab onto anything as your pussy ached for attention. "K- König!"

He ignored your pleas, suckling on your nipple before switching to suck on the other one, before he let go and took your shirt off, relishing in the sight of your plump tits heaving with each breath, pink perky nipples hard and standing at attention. He moved down to your panties, swiping up your clothed pussy with his tongue, teasing you until your panties are soaked and you're hastily removing them, showing him your glistening slit. "Please König! just fuck me already!" You begged, needing him to be inside you after not feeling anything in your cunt for ages. He finally whipped his hard cock out, standing proud before rubbing it all over your slit and thrusting the head in before slipping in fully, stretching you wider than anyone ever has, You throw your head back against the pillows and let out a soft whine at the ache of the stretch. He gripped your hips with his gloved hands and started thrusting into you, watching his fat cock disappear into your tight heat and bulge out of your stomach. You fisted the bed sheets, overwhelmed from the sudden pace after not feeling it in a while. You moan and whine loudly, the neighbors might complain but you can't help it. It feels so damn good. His cock hits all the right places, making you see starts. Your head swims and your toes curl, making you fist the bedsheets tighter as you felt the coil in your belly tighten, Threatening to snap as you got closer to climax. König groaned as you tightened down on him, increasing his pace while his heavy balls ached. His grip on your hips tightened enough to leave bruises. He continued thrusting, picking up his pace until you cried out, clenching and shaking as you came.

König sped up, fucking you through your high until his balls drew up and he emptied a load inside you. Pulling out and collapsing next to you making the bed dip. He panted and pulled you to his chest, not bothering to take his gear off and falling asleep with you.

[starsofang]

“No.”

“Oh, c’mon, Johnny. Please? Halloween only comes once a year.”

Johnny eyed you suspiciously, taking in the request you’d laid out on him, which in retrospect, was something he wouldn’t normally deny—he was a kinky guy. But wearing a mask to fuck you, when you could just look at him the whole time instead? Nuh-uh.

“Is this one of yer book things?” he asked, cocking an eyebrow.

You frowned at him, darting your eyes away. “No.”

“It totally is.”

“Okay, yes, it is, but I think it’d be hot! You don’t?” you tried once more, pleading.

Johnny snorted, shaking his head. “What’s not to enjoy about my face?”

“Your face is wonderful, Johnny.”

“…But?”

“You in a mask is sexy.”

Johnny groaned, throwing his head back and blinking up at the ceiling.

Really, the idea was growing on him. A mask, yeah, he could do that for you—might even find it hotter than he thought—but the deep rooted thought of a familiar mask popped up in the midst of it, tainting his mind.

He rolled his head lazily to look at you, narrowing in on the pout on your lips. It was always hard for him to deny you, especially anything sex-related you wanted to try. Hell, he was practically like a dog being thrown a bone at the opportunity.

“I’ve got a better idea,” he murmured, a sadistic grin curling on his face.

It was your turn to stare suspiciously, slowly deflating from your previous excitement and dying down to a curious hesitation. “That’s never good,” you muttered.

“Mm. I think ye might like it,” he replied cheekily, taking a step closer to you. His arm slipped easily around your waist to rest on your back, tugging you into his warmth. “Ye remember Ghost, don’t ye?”

“Ghost?” you breathed, shivering when you felt his lips tickle your ear and drift down to your neck. He hummed against your skin.

He wasn’t serious, right?

He was incredibly serious, unfortunately.

“Happy Halloween, love.”

You could barely peel your eyes open to look at Ghost, only humming a noise of acknowledgment as he got up to leave, Johnny walking him out.

As for you, you were suffering the severe consequences of their bound agreement, body limp and sedated in the comfort of your blankets that Johnny gifted you to boost the ‘Halloween spirit.’

Johnny gave you what you asked for with little struggle, granting you the sweet taste of fucking with a mask on. Ghost was there for encouragement, pulling out his old, trusty mask and sliding it on just for you.

Fucking into you until you were a weeping, blabbering mess to a masked Johnny wasn’t what you pictured when you initially asked the Scot about your fantasy, but all hesitation was quickly snipped from your mind the moment you got a sample of both of them, their eyes peering down at you like you were prey from the narrow slits of the holes cut out for their vision leaving you begging for more.

“Maybe for Christmas, we could be Santa and ye could be our li’l elf,” Johnny teased when he returned, sliding into bed. “‘Tis the gift of givin’ soon, aye?”

He only snickered loudly when that earned a sharp kick from you, hunkering down into bed on Hallow’s night, murmuring about how he wasn’t kiddin’. They definitely could, if ye want.

[b1rds3ye]

AAAA i loved that 141 + masked reader one!! omg you're filling my head with mask ideas now...

what if reader had one of those LED masks that showed different facial expressions? just walking around going ":D" ":]" "^-^" "?" ">:(" as a substitute of their real expressions. omfg imagine them coming back from a mission and price is praising them on their work or smth and they just hit him with the "uwu"

I'm glad so many people are liking the prompt, I had a lot of fun with it too!! This is very much giving me Watch Dogs 2 Wrench but also Rina Tennoji omg there are so many legendary masked characters-

The rest of the 141 were confused at first. While the mask provided anonymity, there was also the benefit of hiding facial information to an enemy. But now with these LEDs your emotions could be read like an open book, but ultimately they found it endearing.

Soap in particular loves your mask. Johnny loves surprising you to generate "!"s over the eyes and finds himself smiling every time your mask switches to a new emotion. As demolition expert, he prides himself over the one time he got you so riled up that an error message flashed across your mask. He's also genuinely curious about the mask and will gladly try to help if there are any technical difficulties or if you want a hardware upgrade. He's also the most unnerved out of the 141 if you ever turn the LEDs off, immediately by your side to comfort you as he can no longer read your mood.

Gaz doesn't often provoke you but he does find himself snickering whenever your expressions change from others. It's also an easy way for Kyle to keep track of how you're feeling, even when no one's around your mask automatically goes ";-;" when you're feeling down and he'll check up on you. Whenever he does make a joke though, he's immediately looking to your mask to see if someone will appreciate his humour. He also wishes you turned off your mask more during missions, the little angry face your mask makes isn't intimidating in the slightest and he can't risk getting distracted cooing over you during an op.

Ghost is very curious. Your own mask has him wondering if his own needs a bit of an upgrade - perhaps an LED skull mask with a moving lower jaw. Simon's heart warms up a bit at how you've picked a mask that's still so comically expressive, he enjoys interacting with someone that's so upfront with their emotions. He won't admit it but he finds it cute how your mask goes "-_-" whenever he says one of his horrendous "military humour" jokes. He's considerate of your mask and ensures that there is no water or liquids nearby.

Price's first concern was practicality (how the hell were you going to use night-vision?) but once the mask seems to work without a hitch, he now checks on your mask to not only gauge your mood but as a visual indicator of the overall atmosphere among the rest of the task force. You're now his favourite person to praise. He doesn't give it freely of course, but most of his subordinates will try to hide their smiles as they glow under his praise as they keep up their tough soldier persona. You though? The sudden "! o !" and then consequential "^_^" as you walk away with a hop in your step is probably the sweetest thing he's seen in his entire military career.

It's all fun and games until you turn off the LEDs - usually done in dark/covert missions or when you're interrogating the enemy. That's when you're truly unreadable, a masked terror. As you eliminate enemies in close combat the last thing they will see is their own face contorted into absolute terror as it is faintly reflected like a memory against the bottomless darkness of your visor.

Masked Reader Masterlist Call of Duty Masterlist

[str6ngled]

[ricemerc]

— You better not try to run, kleinе Maus.

Vampire König has been waiting for your blood since Halloween, so he's very, very hungry /ᐠ-⩊-ᐟ\

[bewitchedsouls]

princess treatment with simon pt2

warnings: use of female descriptions (wife, girl), food and eating

• simon who sends you money to go and get whatever to want done, whether that’s your hair, nails, shopping, even though you tell him he doesn’t need to as you have your own job and your own money, he still insists, in his eyes whatever his wife wants his wife gets

• simon has your favourite flowers in different colours on pre-order for every month of the year, he would love to give them you in person but incase he’s away on a mission he doesn’t wanna miss the little tradition he’s made for you

• simon who comes back from missions and the next day tells you to get ready, as he has a day planned out for the both of you and a special date for you in the evening

• simon who’s breath is taken away every time he watches you walk out your bedroom door in your pretty clothes ready for your dinner date, who’s heart practically skips a beat as he takes in what he’s missed

• simon who makes you leave your purse and any money you have at home, he would never allow you to pay for anything when he’s around, you might as well insult him

• simon is also a man who when you go out to eat wants you to be eating good, he makes sure you get what you really want and doesn’t ever tell you to hold back, in fact constantly checks if you would like to add anything else, he just wants his girl to be happy and well fed and he’s gonna make that happen

• simon who as soon as you arrive home, sits you down to take off your shoes for you, being the gentlest giant he can possibly be, you wouldn’t believe this was the cold ghost man who goes into tough battlefields and dangerous situations killing people

• simon who gets his pretty girl to sit on the sofa watching the tv as he runs you a soothing bath with one of the many bath bombs he’s bought for you, lighting you’re favourite candle, anyone would think you were the one doing the job he does

• simon who doesn’t mind doing all this for you though, he just wants to dote on his wife and allow her to feel important, treated and pampered, he is a man who loves his wife and would do anything for her

i hope this one is a good as the last but i feel like it’s not :(( still hope you enjoyed !!

[konigbaby]

the skeleton gloves stay on // clip via iceyeyedcosplay on tiktok এ

[bluedrizzle82]

Naughty neighbors

Your husband is an asshole and treats you like… well.. shit, it seem like he only married you to inherit his father’s company. He goes on long “business trips” without telling you and not calling or texting you at all. You’ve been wanting a baby for a while but your husband comes home “tired” from his trips or barely touches you. Over the time loneliness you have gotten to know, Simon Ghost Riley, your neighbor.

An ex military lieutenant, well built and very smart and kind plus he’s hot. You started to invite him over for when you made dinner too big and you were alone. That turned into a more casual meeting as friends but eventually you were close enough to just pop over his place. The sexual tension was there and thick but you’ve yet to act upon it because you are hesitant since you are married. After a few weeks of your absent husband, you ended up at Simon’s door looking for comfort.

[brewed-pangolin]

MDNI 18+ (totally unedited. I'm going down with the gym rat soap ship)

Imagine being woken up in the middle of the night by Gym Rat Soap burying himself between your thighs.

His mouth fully encapsulating over your mound, sliding his tongue between the velvety flesh of your folds to urge you awake and pinpoint that sensitive bundle of nerves just around your entrance.

"Johnny," you mumbled. Voice hoarse, muffled in drowsy wakefulness while your body vigorously reacted to the pleasure of his languid expertise.

"Sorry, bonnie. Jus' needed a little snack."

You felt him smile against your throbbing womanhood. Words dampened by the cusp of your heat and lessened through the delicate Egyptian cotton that loosely draped over him.

A silent protest quickly ran over the supple flesh over your lips. Only to be immediately plucked away. Replaced with strangled gasp as he lowered his mouth further and plunged his broad tongue into the fluttering hole of your cunt.

"Ooohhh, my God!"

Arching your back off the bed, your bellowing mewls wafting up into the crown molding of the bedroom as your body writhed beneath him. His hands holding you steadily against the mattress as he leisurely thrusted his tongue into your soaking canal.

Your eyes were just beginning to adjust to the darkness that hung heavy around the room. Only the soft light of the moon illuminated the brighter shades within the dense blackness. Casting elongated shadows along the bedsheets as the distinct crest of Soap's mohawk peeked between the covered valley of between your thighs.

A sudden adjustment to the angle of his tongue had you clenching your thighs tightly around his head. A throaty growl then reverberated into the deep crevices of your folds in unfettered retaliation, bucking your hips against him as you suddenly took notice of a most peculiar synthetic sensation between your thighs.

Immediately, your hand flew to pull the sheet away. And you were met with the familiar blue eyes of your Johnny set behind a very prominent and very darkened red brow.

"Johnny. What the fuck is on your face?"

And as if he were abruptly pulled out of a deep trance, he reluctantly withdrew his tongue from your core and met your gaze with an impish and slick covered grin.

"What'ya think, bonnie? Ya like it?"

"Are you-, is that a mask?"

"Aye. Ghost gave it t'me."

Your expression then shifted to utter bewilderment. Lips curling into a perplexed smile as you took in the details of the demon like covering in the blanketing darkness.

"And did he give you strict instructions to wear it only while eating me out at 2:30 in the morning?"

"No. Well, no' exactly."

Narrowing your eyes at him, your lips curled into a half cocked smirk as you extended your hand to get a feel of the hellish veil atop his forehead.

"Well, gotta hand it to him, Johnny. I kinda like it."

"Aye? 'Nough fer me t'keep it on?"

"Yeah. You're like my little pussy demon."

He retorted with another growl. Your fingers fisting into his hair to guide him back down to your core as his blue eyes glistened in the dim light, accentuated by the red trim pronounced brow.

"I'll make sure to pass the word, bonnie." He crooned lowly into the silken walls of your heat.

"You better. But for now, I want you to get back to work."

"Yes, ma'am."

Even beneath the mask, you could see the smile etched into his cheeks. Keeping the sheets pulled back to take in the sight of your Scottish demon feasting like a fiend on your soaking soul.

Gym Rat Soap Masterlist