#call of duty dividers

[mariariley]

⋆✮⋆ REQUESTS ARE OPEN ⋆✮⋆

·:*¨༺ MASTERLIST ༻¨*:·.

on a hiatus! :(

Russell Adler

Frank Woods

Alex Mason

Helen Park

Lawrence Sims

Eleazar Azoulay

Anton Volkov

Perseus

🖤

Captain John Price

John “Soap” Mactavish

Simon “Ghost” Riley

Gary “Roach” Sanderson

General Shepherd

Vladimir Makarov

🖤

Captain John Price

Kyle “Gaz” Garrick

Alex Keller

Farah Karim

Roman Barkov

Nikolai

Soldier J-12

🖤

Simon “Ghost” Riley

John “Soap” Mactavish

Captain John Price

Kyle “Gaz” Garrick

Kate Laswell

Alejandro Vargas

Rodolfo “Rudy” Parra

Valeria Garza

Phillip Graves

Warzone bonus: König

🖤

x fem/gn reader

no ships

no pedophilia, rape, pregnancy, gory self harm, mental illnesses, fursonas or any animal-like add ons

no heavy BDSM and weird fetishes

platonic relationship with female characters

will do mental breakdowns, hysteria, death (not too gory)

will do angst, fluff, sometimes smut

will do headcanons and NSFW alphabets

self written fanfics in 1st person

requests and headcanons in 2nd person

please make your requests clear and with enough details 🖤

Dividers belong to @firefly-graphics , @benkeibear 🖤

Banners are mine, tag if you use them 🖤

[uhohdad]

(18+) John Price x Reader

John knows what he’s doing.

He’s not an idiot, and he’s certainly not blind to the glow of your cheeks and the way your voice takes on both a stammer and a higher pitch when he’s around. A captain has to be vigilant, and that just so happens to mean he’s observant to the slight shake in your knees, the nervous laughs spilling from your warped lips without caution, the way your fingers fidget in his presence.

He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t flattered, if he said he didn’t like being the object of your desire.

So he leans into it. Toying with you, entirely under the guise of plausible deniability. Keeping you guessing and fueling your fantasies, giving you hope that maybe, just maybe, your Captain returns your affection. He likes having you wrapped around his finger, and intends to give you just enough hope to keep you there.

Crossing his arms over his chest, watching you carefully as you struggle to keep eye contact, those pretty, shy eyes sneaking glances at his arms.

Lowering his voice and coating it in honey when he calls you Love, Sweetheart, Darling, just to make you falter.

Leaning in far too close when he looks at your screen over your shoulder, until you can nearly feel the heat of his chest on your back, the scent of a burnt cigar and laundry detergent intoxicating you, his voice a low and gravelly vibration in your ear. He’ll pretend he didn’t notice the sharp, squeaky inhale you make that sends blood rushing to his cock.

Approaching you from behind, resting a hand on the small of your back and sliding it off your waist as he turns to talk to you. Reveling in the way your wide eyes stare back at his, basking in the warmth radiating from your cheeks, knowing full well you’re too flustered to pay attention to a word he’s saying.

Oh, you should have seen it - the first time he responded to, “Yes, Sir,” with, “Good Girl.”

Your whole body tensed, a hitched breath catching in the back of your throat. Lips parted to say something, anything, but John broke you, didn’t he? With two little words - halted every thought in that pretty little brain and sent a wave of arousal straight to your panties.

He couldn’t even bite back his smug grin.

“You like being my good girl?”

You’re frozen, a fawn in headlights, shoes glued to the floor and unable to bring yourself to speak, settling on a faint nod instead.

“Then why don’t you bend over your Captain’s desk, Sweetheart?”

♡ DRABBLE MASTERLIST ♡

[swordymacaroni]

A/N-I know for a fact that Simon would be obsessed with you but would refuse to just admit it, finding the stupidest excuses before he finally relents.

Warnings-Suggestive/Language

Just so I don't break her heart, Simon thinks to himself when Gaz and Soap tell him that you wanted to go out with him. He's not oblivious to his charm; many find him attractive. He doesn't really care about you, he'll just go on one date to change up his routine a little bit.

Just so I don't break her heart, Simon tells himself when he meet you in a dimly lit bar, the disco lights highlighting the gorgeous outline of your body. He only met at the rendezvous point because if he didn't you'd probably bitch to the entirety of 141 that you got stood up, and he didn't have time for the drama.

Just so I don't break her heart, Simon reasons as he voluntarily secures his hands around your soft waist and leads you out onto the dance floor. He dances with you the whole night thinking maybe you'll lose interest in him and he can go on his merry way. Definitely.

Just so I don't break her heart, he thinks though a lavender haze as he rips off your dress in a dark nook of the bar, drinking in the contours and curves of your body. He needs to relieve tension anyway. He'll just forget you exist tomorrow.

Just so I don't break her heart, Simon mumbles to himself as he curls around your smaller body, greedily soaking in your warmth. Your love. He should leave. You'll wake up and start being clingy. He should leave. As soon as you turn around and tell him you were his and his only.

Just so I don't break her heart, his thoughts are dimmer each time you laugh, sob into his shoulder, touch his cheek, grow irrevocably closer, become his. It's progressed to a fling, but will be nothing more. Really.

Just so I don't break her heart, he thinks as you walk down the aisle in your flowy white dress, gracing him with your goddess-like presence as tears flow unchecked from his cheeks. He says his vows with reverence and devotion. Just so your special day isn't spoiled. He doesn't care about spending his whole life with you.

He does

He does

He fucking does

Just so I don't break her heart, Simon's thoughts begin before something bright and brilliant shoots through his mind. It says, Whose heart? The singular one that beats between two people? Simon pushes it out, away, as he gently unbuttons your wedding dress, staring at your face lovingly. It looks the same as it did all those months ago. Beautiful.

Just so I don't break her heart, Simon thinks as you fall asleep in his arms. Because if he does, his own will shatter into a million pieces.

[sweet-as-an-angel]

Coquette Thoughts

TW: 18+, Profanity, Fem!Reader

König and his coquette girlfriend as she ties a pink ribbon into a bow around the base of his painfully hard, thick cock, pre-cum staining the fabric and making the bow wilt under the weight of his plentiful seed. He hisses when she pulls the bow taut, catching the most prominent vein on the underside of his member, leaving him aching and begging for her to touch him already - please, I can't take anymore :-(

[gildui]

your always yapping everywhere. its so annoying lol

oh mate, that sucks. anyways, heres some free to use COD dividers if anyone wants them.

only black for now but if you want any other colours, or have requests, just shoot it into my inbox <3 feel free to tag me if you use em. peace, luv, don't be a shit to your creators :)

[lunarw0rks]

────141 headcanons: touching the belly────

a/n: y'all know i'm a sucker for the the pregs trope so i had to do this request. and i only did the four dinguses for this one, sorry anon ☺️

warning(s): pregnancy, fluff+angst, invasion of reader's personal space/privacy, protectiveness, hurt/comfort?, afab!reader

‧˚₊ MAIN MASTERLIST ⟢ 141 MASTERLIST ‧₊˚⊹

๋࣭ ⭑ PRICE

⌞one of the perks of being married to john is being supported. quite literally the definition of it, in every form. that goes for your baby too, no questions asked. he's more akin to simon in being traditional while you're expecting. wants you home, resting and not lifting a finger.

he's very particular about who he lets close to you, more than ever now. it makes sense considering his work and the general fragility of a new family. in the same way as kyle, he's constantly stressed. wants everything to be perfect for you and soon to be little one.

always has his eye on you, just like he does all his men. there's nothing he doesn't see or already knows about. honestly, may even spot a bad apple before you do. won't even bother with politeness and will shoo them away before their hand(s) even make contact with your tummy.⌝

๋࣭ ⭑ SIMON

⌞ he was already protective enough before you got pregnant, but he's at a whole new level now. practically a full-time security guard by the time you reach your third trimester. ESPECIALLY when you two find yourselves out and about — which isn't often.

on the off chance that you're at some sort of gathering with simon, he's at your side no matter what. eyeing every person who approaches you, only chiming in when spoken to, out of mere courtesy. as soon as you give him any inkling of discomfort, he's asking you if he should go start the car.

one thing he hasn't gotten used to yet is the touching. how people often belaud pregnant women. cross boundaries constantly to get a feel of them and their bellies. it's already hard enough getting the man to relax, but it's hopeless now with all the new people he "needs" to keep an eye on. it's not a matter of him catching someone touching your belly; he'll already be standing there most likely. glares, huffs, will certainly go as far as removing their hand if it lingers long enough.⌝

๋࣭ ⭑ SOAP

⌞doesn't see any point in excluding you from functions if you think you can handle them. loves having you on his lap or right beside him when he's out, even in pregnancy. as long as you're comfortable and able to signal to him when you're too tired or need something — he's just happy you're there.

most of all, johnny is fiercely protective of the bump. more than he is of you (which is nearly unfathomable, i know). and if there's one thing he loves more than you — it's gushing about you to anyone who'll listen. so, initially, he might not notice someone making you tense while amid his blabbing.

but after so long with him, you've learned to accept the flattery for what it is and remember how easy it is for him to get distracted. a firm squeeze to his hand or a tug to his jacket will do the trick. but once realizes what's happening, he's on it (with his new Dad Speed). finds a way to distract the person and slip you the car keys. promises he'll be out in two minutes to drive you home — and he always is.⌝

๋࣭ ⭑ GAZ

⌞ even though he'd prefer you bundled up in bed and waiting for him, kyle still enjoys doing things with you. he definitely gives a wider berth than the other guys, but he's just as vigilant (if not more). he's more subtle about it, if anything.

it isn't just you to protect anymore, it's you and his baby. so, forgive the man for his pinched brows and clenched fists, he's reverted into nothing but a ball of anxiety the further the months progress.

doesn't mind people having a feel of you, usually, when they only mean well (it's typically older ladies anyhow). but sometimes it's a more unsavory interaction; someone who isn't taking any hints, who can't bear to leave the two of you alone. on one hand, gaz understands — an expectant, attractive couple out on a wholesome shopping trip is bound to lure attention. he takes a slower approach, less hostile to avoid upsetting you anyone. brushes it off with an excuse; "oh, love, you got that appointment today, right? don't wanna be late." and then makes his exit, a guiding hand around your waist.⌝

[2kiran]

゛ KEEGAN P RUSS ⸝⸝ “damn, kid, who taught you that?”

synopsis. a man who's too starved of attention and a man who's low on patience. you two make a great pair, in spite of the prominent presence of your denial. | word count. 0,9k // 978 ◞

caution. bratty keegan. top male reader. mentioned spanking. gun play. degradation kink. dumbification. rough anal sex. no use of protection (wrap it before you tap it). namecalling (whore, slut).

3KVENT NAVI ﹑ MAIN MASTERLIST

keegan russ who's the epitome of need. he'll shamelessly yearn for your presence, grabby hands clinging onto your shoulder to feign friendliness with the gesture. he grips harsher than necessary, stepping a little bit too close. it's normal; unordinary out of sight, until his clothed cock purposely brushes against your thigh and you decide that act alone is your final straw.

his face nuzzling the pillow within his arms, muffling the high-pitched whimpers that fleed his quivering lips. “please- haah.. don' be a tease.” keegan russ who lazily pushes himself back into your face when your harsh hand relents it's assault on his ass, now replaced with your mellow and wet tongue tracing the red prints.

spittle dribbles down your chin, gathering on his lower cheek. it stung, tears prickling keegan russ' lashes. the angry head of his cock spat out pre, weeping at the feeling of the pink muscle lapping at him. you were right there, his muscles contracting around nothing as he felt your breath hit his hole. if only he knew how to make you move closer.

“or what?” cold and deadly. something so familiar trailing down and down until it heavily rested against the base of his dick.

he's internally panicking, heart skipping beats until his hips gently rock, pursuing that sensation. keegan russ' mouth is lost and locked on his face. “you're fuckin' pathetic. are you not ashamed? a man like you gets so wet from a gun.”

he loves when you use that tone on him. he tilts his head enough, eyes peeking above his shoulder and he nearly cums on polished wood when his stare lands on your kneeling form. your teeth grazes him, tickles his flesh, injecting into his skin and you're suddenly a drug that's inscribed into his being. engraved into that distant heart of his, pounding with life solely for you.

“that's your doin'.” keegan russ states, matter-of-factly. he lets out a drawled whine when you pull away, saliva sticking to him and it's concerning how he doesn't feel an ounce of disgust. the sight has you itching to snap an image of his ass matching the crimson on his flushed face. “did i say you could speak, whore?”

you rise to your feet, fingers wrapping themselves in his strands and tugging him closer to you. he's like an obedient dog, well trained to know the signal, locking his lips onto yours. an intimate tangle, shoving your tongue into his awaiting mouth and swallowing down his surprised moan.

pressing your straining cock against his sensitive backside, it's as if you're sucking the air out of his lungs. he's the first to free himself from the kiss, panting harshly to recover.

“you - hnnn - asked me a question, and 'm not ashamed. i want it, want you.” he's murmuring through dreamy breaths, hips gently rolling to wordlessly convince you to finally fuck him.

the muzzle of your gun coaxes out a bone-chilling pattern up his length, rubbing along the underside of his tip. your jaw tenses, clenches, attempting not to lose your temper and give in immediately. his teasing undeniably worked on you, the memory of that daring look he passed you too tempting for you to rid of.

the hard structures built in his mouth dug into the silk case of the pillow, drool seeping and smearing across the material. his groans barely dulled, sobbing freely to eradicate the blur in his vision. keegan russ reduced to a stupefied slut, bent to your will as he's teetering both on the edge and your last nerve.

“is that th - the best you can do?” he gasps, clenching around you.

you grind inside of him, cock caressing his prostate with slow, smooth motions. drawing out, rim taut around the thickness. “shut it.” your hips slam forward, jolting the man and it has pain striking his abdomen when the edge of the desk jabs him.

the pistol sits neatly within your hold, pointed to the back of his head. it sends an abrupt shiver to his spine, the sense of death overwhelming him. “shit, you're so tight. what, you don't want me to pull out that badly?” he doesn't get to answer. you don't let him.

keegan russ who almost shrieks when your other hand grabs his hip, the bruising grip failing to genuinely hurt as you force him to fuck himself on your dick. “hnnngh! it's—” he interrupts himself with a loud gasping-moan, muzzle pressing on him harder.

“not your fault? just look at yourself.” you guide him, hole clinging onto you desperately, as if he's keeping you in - begging you to stay inside of him. he's never felt so full, unable to form rational sentences that would defend his current state. “all dumb 'cause of my cock. can't believe it took a few touches to get you like this.”

the pace quickens, body numbing from the force. you wrap an arm around his middle, yanking him upwards. the weapon against his temple, reminding him of it's presence, a weak whimper falling in between the pleasure-blinding moments. “what a slut you are.”

your leaky tip repeatedly rammed his sweet spot, his walls carrying the shape of your size. keegan russ cries out, hands reaching your forearm to ground himself to reality. a zip of ecstasy runs through him and up to cut his train of thoughts. brain idly sensing how your finger was centimeters away from the trigger.

his dick twitches, pearly, thick ropes spurting from his neglected slit. he would've doubled over if it wasn't for your strong hold keeping him in place, lowering the gun and kissing his cheek whilst he comes down from his high.

keegan russ groans out, the sound mixing with a half-whine. he was needy, and you lacked the copious amount required of patience to tolerate it. he had to have more. “why'd you stop?”

[celestialprincesse]

i love you and your writing so fuckin much babes🥹💗😭

would you write about simon with a partner whose libido has decreased due to taking antidepressants

i think he takes them too so he might have the same issue

it's ok if you don't wanna ik it's a bit weird sorry to bother you

It's not at all weird! I take antidepressants and the way it fucked with my sex drive was such a confusing side effect🫠

Having long since devolved into a mess of tangled limbs and sloppy kisses, a calloused hand creeping under the fabric of your shirt as you and Simon make out on the couch, you know the trajectory that tonight seems to follow. Should follow. But, like a moored boat, no matter how much you want to drift off into the desire faintly tugging at the back of your mind like a calling tide, you can't.

It's not that you feel uncomfortable with him, not at all. You just...don't feel like it. But it'll be fine. It just takes a while to get going. You just need a minute.

"Hey."

Fuck. His hands have stopped roving, moved back from their hazardous purchase on the clasp of your bra to settle on your lower back with soothing weight and warmth.

You give a noncommittal hum, trying to melt back into Simon's body, to give back in to it, to unmoor the boat and drift off into the blissful sway of the waves.

"Look at me." His hand on your chin stops you in your tracks, forcing you to meet his stern, worried eyes. "We don't have to - to fuck or anything, yeah?"

The way he sees through you, and your feeble attempts at trying to work yourself up, it's embarrassing. Why can't you just give in to it? Most people would jump up and down to have sex with a man like Simon, and yet here you are having to think about the shitty smutty books you used to read or sex scenes in trashy corset-ripper romance shows just to get out of your own head.

"I want to." You lie, feebly, at that. Judging by the furrow of his brows, almost offended, he can see that you're lying too.

"No, you don't." He huffs, keeping your cheeks smushed between his fingers to prevent you from interrupting, leaving your brows furrowed like a petulant child. "I get it, you know." Simon continues, his free hand smoothing back the hair he'd mussed up in your haphazard make out session. "When I'd just started out in the SAS, I got put on fluoxetine. Used to get taken the piss out of for not getting it up."

You can't help the way your brows furrow sympathetically at the thought of your Simon being made fun of for something so juvenile and silly.

"I get it, m' not fussed about it, either. If sitting here sucking each other's faces off is all you feel up to doing, that's more than fine by me."

[lady-boketto]

10.Slasher! Simon "Ghost" Riley (Call of Duty NSFW)

Summary: Ghost is a serial killer and during one of his sprees, he comes across an unsuspecting couple who are having fun in the woods.

A/n: For an easter egg I wanted this to be the unofficial part two of the Gaz one I wrote yesterday where you and Gaz are the couple in this one lol. But anyway enjoy!

The dark woods felt like home. The way the thick tree trunks groaned under the weight of the breeze. The rush of air cutting right down to the bone with its icy bite. This was where he belonged, stalking through the darkness, weaving through the forest like a shadow. With only the moon to bare witness to the sin of bloodlust.

Leaves crunched under his heavy boots, the soft plinks of blood flowing from the sickle he held tightly in hand, creating an eerie trail as he shifted through the woods aimlessly. Tonight was unlike any other, and he relished in the way the cold night embraced his masked face. He was still feeling the rush of adrenaline when he heard something unusual, in the distance he could make out a tent but that wasn't the part that caught his attention. It was the noises that could be heard coming from the tent.

Ghost made little to no sound as he stalked towards a large tree that was nearby, the roughness of the bark hitting the back of his jacket as he leaned against the oak tree. His breathing was calm as he made up his mind already to attack the unsuspecting couple in their most intimate moment, he was about to strike when was caught off guard by your voice.

“Just like that!~….M-more!”

Your voice cried out as your lover hit that special spot inside you that made your eyes roll to the back of your head. You couldn’t hold your voice back as it only spurred on your lover to grip your hips harder as they fucked you from behind. The sound of skin slapping against each other as Ghost was frozen in his place outside in the cold, he was enchanted by your moans. You sounded so desperate to be fucked, all the blood in his body rushed to his groin as something in him awoken upon hearing your pleas.

Ghost leaned his head back against the wood, letting out a deep sigh as he gently tossed his weapon to the side, letting it hit the ground with a soft thud before he started to fiddle with the zipper of his jeans. Sighing heavily as one his hands starts to rub his growing erection, while he continues to listen in on the sinful noises that were coming from a few feet away from him. His thoughts get the better of him as can’t help but fantasize that he’s the one fucking your brains out.

Instead Ghost is pushing his pants down just enough to free his cock from his boxers, shivering at the cold air that immediately hits his pale skin as he grips the base of his cock. He eagerly begins to stroke his cock to the sounds of your moans, biting his bottom lip under his mask as he uses his other hand to cup and gently squeeze his balls. His mind teases him as he pictures how you would look underneath him as he pounds into you or how good your lips would look wrapped around his cock.

“You feel so good! I-I’m close!”

His torture continues as he hears you beg for your release.

‘That’s it, take it’

His voice echoes in his mind, his movements becoming sloppier as he felt his body heat up from arousal. With a couple of final strokes Ghost cums with a groan, staining the ground with his seed. His chest rises and falls as he tries to catch his breath, taking a moment to recover and cleaning himself up the best he can before fixing his pants.

Just as Ghost leans down to pick up his weapon, he hears you cry out one last time as he figures that you’ve reached your climax. A smirk pulls at his lips under his mask, this was perfect timing as he feels his bloodlust from earlier return.

‘This is going to be fun.’

[skyeconch]

“Please marry me.”

“I will.”

“Can you wait for me?”

“Even if it takes a hundred years.”

[uhohdad]

(18+) König x Reader - Jealous of Your Sex Toys

WARNING: Implied Toxic Relationship Dynamic

You’re a grown woman. You are allowed to have sex toys - it’s expected even. And yet, you feel guilty. Caught doing something you shouldn’t have been. Body locked up and eyes wide as you stare down at the brightly-colored silicone sex toys resting in the flat of König’s massive palm.

“You don’t need these. I’m enough for you, ja?”

It’s a simple question - a yes or no question - but you both know there was enough strings attached you could spool it into a ball of abrasive twine.

You weigh your options.

‘Yes’ - No more sex toys for you. A life of relying purely on your fingers and him, clit never knowing the buzz of a vibrator again. Giving into his will and letting him control you to a degree that you know isn’t healthy.

‘No’ -

Well, you can’t say no.

Aside from how soul crushing you understand the weight of that word would be coming from you - it’s far from the truth. He is enough for you. More than enough - too big, even. Too insatiable. Too much of an ego to not leave you whimpering and covered in the evidence of finish after finish until you were begging him to stop.

Your hesitance is somehow worse than either of your impossible options. You should have just blurted the first answer that came to mind.

His brow quirks as his gaze continues to bore into you with sly, half-lidded eyes.

“No?” He asks, with a quirk of his brow and a thrilling glint of mischief in his eye.

You still can’t bring yourself to confirm or deny.

He nods in understanding, his giant hands wrapping around your sex toys, so little in his palms.

“That’s okay, mein Nervenkitzel Sucher,” He purrs, “I can share.”

Your shoulders brace instinctively, insides coiling as tight as that ball of abrasive twine, those attached strings getting more and more tangled with every silken word that rolls from his tongue. He says it’s okay - but it sure doesn’t feel like he means it. Choking you with those tricky strings.

The fistful of your sex toys - your misdeeds, your dirty, shameful little secrets - falls to his side. He approaches with precise steps until he’s between your knees, looming over you.

“I’ll show you,” He says with a dangerous crinkle in his eyes, a sickeningly sweet smile surely hidden underneath that mask.

You unintentionally shrink in on yourself in the shadow of his hulking, commanding figure. A calculated move. Not-so-subtly reminding you of just how small and defenseless you are in his presence. His voice drops, and those brows furrow, that smile surely faded behind the black fabric obscuring his face as he stares down at you intensely.

Your mouth has gone dry, your attempt at words - an apology, a flirt, a joke, anything - leaves you as nothing but a dried out squeak lodged deep in the back of your throat.

“I’ll show you how I share.”

-

“Kmph-Kmph!”

“Sh, sh. Isn’t this what you wanted, Blümchen? To keep both?”

You let out a truly pathetic whine, throwing your head back on the mattress. How many times have you cum?

You lost count, lost your very rationality, lost to him - the gift of bittersweet pleasure twisted into something unbearable.

“Greedy, greedy girl.”

Plugged, stuffed, and spread open. Your vibrator buzzes ruthlessly on your abused, swollen, throbbing clit at a torturous speed. Restrained by your own handcuffs, secured tightly to the headboard and keeping you from putting up the fight that would be useless anyway. There’s surely a metaphor hidden somewhere within this detail - but your thoughts are so clouded with arousal there’s no way you’d be find it.

Too much, too much, König, too much!

And while you know he knows exactly what you’re pleading, your mouth will never form the words - stifled by the drool-covered gag nestled between your lips.

His pumps in and out of you at a punishing pace, thick cock soaked with your arousal and disciplined hips snapping against the back of your thighs, ignoring the tears of pure overstimulation streaking down your temples.

He studies you with narrowed, unreadable eyes, watching you writhe. His stare lingers on your chest, arching and twisting beneath him as you fight the cruel pleasure between your legs. His stare is eerily cold for a man whose cock is being pleasured by a warm, tight cunt. You’re not even sure if he’s enjoying it, or if this is purely a lesson he must teach you in his eyes.

You know he’s trying to prove a point - to show you that you only need one or the other. Can’t you see? Both is just too much for a little girl like yourself to handle.

So choose wisely, little one.

♡ KÖNIG DRABBLE MASTERLIST ♡

[swordymacaroni]

Random Stuff the Cod Men Would Say

A/N- Children, don't stay up till 3:47 am like I did

Warnings-Language/Ghost being depressed as always

R/N: I hate when I wake up and-

Simon: I hate when I wake up in general.

*on the phone*

R/N: I'm breaking up

Soap: I'm pReGnAnT

R/N: 

Soap: 

R/N: I meant the phone call

Soap: I panicked

Ghost: "What happens to nitrogen when the sun rises? 

Gaz: No! PLEASE-

Ghost: It becomes daytrogen.

Ghost: Good nitrogen. 

Ghost with an evil smirk: Sleep tightrogen. 

Ghost, almost giggling: Don't let the bugs bitrogen."

Gaz, doing breathing exercises: That concussion on our last mission got to him.

R/N: Are you a tea person or a coffee person?

Price: R/N. Love.

Price: I am hardly even a person.

R/N: ( • ᴖ • ｡)

Price: 

Price: Coffee. 

R/N: I just really want to take someone out.

Gaz : Aww.

Soap: On a date?

R/N: With a sniper gun. 

R/N: if your friends jumped off a bridge, would you jump off too?

Ghost: No

R/N: Good-

Ghost: I would jump first.

R/N: ˙◠˙

Gaz: The risk I took was calculated.

Gaz:

Gaz: But damn am I bad at math.

R/N: So, Ghost, tell us, what do you struggle with?

Ghost:

Ghost: Nothing!

Ghost: I'm totally great.

The entirety of 141: So it looks like Ghost struggles with honesty

R/N: FUCK I JUST WANNA DIE

Price: Language, R/N!

R/N: Holy heck, I crave death-

Gaz: Words ending in IE are so cute!

Soap: Yeah, like sweetie, cutie

Konig: Maybe cookie-

R/N: And POOKIE

Ghost:

Ghost: and die.

R/N: What's wrong with you???

Ghost: So do you want that chronologically or alphabetically? 

R/N: Are you decent?

Ghost: Morally, no, but I'm wearing pants....

Credits to Pinterest

[sideeve]

⋆୨୧ ; find your way back to my bed , again

→ ⋆୨୧ ;; your captain finds solidarity in your cunt you .

→ 🩰 ;; daddy price😍 (he’s a warning himself) , doggy style , smut , big d*ck energy , john and reader have a “ secret ” relationship , unprotected s*x ( make sure he wears a raincoat ) , i don’t know how to write foreplay 😖 NOR SMUT😭 , the reader’s race . skin tone . hair color/type is not specified

“that all you got gaz?” you wipe the blood running from your nose, smirking at him. “bring it.” you rush him, making him fall. he now lays on his stomach, his arms on his back which are held by you. “you gotta try harder next time, buddy.” you bend over, whispering in his ear.

“ [ name ]! get off him!” your captain shouted. the ends of your shorts rose up, your ass on full display for him. but price knew you did this on purpose. he’s been depriving you of attention so he knew you went through all of this for him to notice.

“my office, now.” price stomps out the training room, steaming practically coming from his ears. “ooo~ sounds like you’re in trouble.” gaz teases as you get off of him. “oh shut up, kyle.”

“so what’d you call me for, captain?” you cross your legs. he hates when you called him captain. “it’s john.” “but you’re my captain.” you tease. “don’t play dumb, sweetheart.” he stalks close to you. his frame towers over you, making you look small. his fingers slide in your belt loops, slowly pulling them off of you. “you didn’t have to go through all of that, doll. i was here the whole time.”

“but you said you were busy.” you playfully pout. “never too busy for you.” he take your lips on his, shimmying your shorts and panties off. your thighs were pried open. his calloused finger rubs up your slit, collecting your slick. “so wet, baby.” he takes his finger to his mouth. “so sweet.” he take his finger out his mouth, plunging it inside of you.

“god, you’re so tight.” your walls tighten around his digit, making him groan. his presses lip’s against yours, this time his tongue slipping past yours. “no teasing. i just want you, johnny.” you bite his lip. “then bend over.” he pats your thigh, pulling you off the desk.

you hold yourself by your elbows, arching your back. his tip kisses your cervix. “johnny.” his hand reaches your, intertwining with your fingers. “it’s like you’re made for me.” his eyes focus on your ass. the way it recoils with every thrust.

his hand strikes your bottom, making you whine. “sorry, honey. i couldn’t help it.” he rubs the sore spot. “i don’t think i can last long.” his hips begin to stutter. “m-me neither.” you both came in unison, him painting your inside white. your body withers under him.

then the thought comes into your mind. he didn’t wear a condom. “did you just—” he puts a hand over your mouth, “i’ll get you a pill.”

[sky-is-the-limit]

𝑪𝒐𝑫 𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒓𝒂𝒄𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒔 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒊𝒓 𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒌𝒔:

𝚃𝙵𝟷𝟺𝟷, 𝙻𝚘𝚜 𝚅𝚊𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚛𝚘𝚜, 𝙶𝚛𝚊𝚟𝚎𝚜,

𝚅𝚊𝚕𝚎𝚛𝚒a.

+

(Female Reader)

𝑪𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒂𝒊𝒏 𝑱𝒐𝒉𝒏 𝑷𝒓𝒊𝒄𝒆: 𝑰𝒎𝒑𝒂𝒄𝒕 𝑷𝒍𝒂𝒚.

Light spanking while you're on top of him in cowgirl position, his hands would be all over your ass, guiding your hips, slapping your soft skin, promising red marks.

He'd do it in a disciplinary way as well but not forceful. Teasingly, whip your rear with the towel after a steamy shower or a wooden spatula that you have in the kitchen if you rile him up too much with "old man jokes."

He'd never admit, but the sight of his handprints and grips on your thighs and ass would make him daydream for the rest of the day, annoyed that you distract him so easily from his work (that would possibly lead to him doing it more, a never ending-cycle that you both enjoy.)

____________________________________

𝑺𝒊𝒎𝒐𝒏 '𝑮𝒉𝒐𝒔𝒕' 𝑹𝒊𝒍𝒆𝒚: 𝑨𝒖𝒓𝒂𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒎.

This man loves nothing more than the way you sound, the way you moan, your breathless whispers, sighing against his lips, the way his skin slaps onto yours, the sound of the wetness when he slips in and out of you.

Though he's not a vocal man in the slightest, he wants you to be. He wants to hear his name out of your lips, wants you to be loud, listen to you lose control, make your pleasure known as he reminds you who you belong to.

____________________________________

𝑲𝒚𝒍𝒆 '𝑮𝒂𝒛' 𝑮𝒂𝒓𝒓𝒊𝒄𝒌: 𝑫𝒊𝒓𝒕𝒚 𝑻𝒂𝒍𝒌.

You know what they say about the quiet ones. If anyone could hear the words coming out of his mouth while he's fucking you in front of a mirror, they'd never believe that it's him.

“So fucking desperate for my cock.” “Spread your legs and let me look at you.”

“You wanna get fucked, baby? Use your words.”

His voice alone could send you over the edge, this side of Kyle coming out only when he has you naked at his mercy, round after round.

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𝑱𝒐𝒉𝒏𝒏𝒚 '𝑺𝒐𝒂𝒑' 𝑴𝒂𝒄𝑻𝒂𝒗𝒊𝒔𝒉: 𝑷𝒓𝒂𝒊𝒔𝒆.

Both giving and recieving. Tell him how good he makes you feel, how perfect his mouth feels against your soaked cunt, how beautiful he looks between your thighs, caressing his hair as he sucks on your clit, desperate to please all your needs.

He'll return the favour, call you his pretty girl, let you know how good you take him, how fucking amazing you feel when he's buried deep inside you, asking you to look into his eyes when he's pounding into you, call you his good girl when you respond immediately.

"I'm proud of you, bonnie."

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𝑨𝒍𝒆𝒋𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒓𝒐 𝑽𝒂𝒓𝒈𝒂𝒔: 𝑺𝒆𝒏𝒔𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏 𝑷𝒍𝒂𝒚.

There's nothing he anticipates more than returning home to his girl, only to find you dressed in beautiful silk or satin, preferably lingerie that he bought you, your skin soft with lotion, sheets fresh against his nakedness when he lays down so you can give him a massage, feeling your skin against his, your fingertips tracing every inch of him.

You know how hard he works, how exhausted he returns back to you every time. When you suggest to use his favourite tie to blindfold him, allow him to relax completely into the darkness while you take him into your mouth, one hand caressing his hip and the other covering what you can't fit, he could die a happy man.

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𝑹𝒐𝒅𝒐𝒍𝒇𝒐 '𝑹𝒖𝒅𝒚' 𝑷𝒂𝒓𝒓𝒂: 𝑩𝒓𝒆𝒆𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈.

He doesn't know what excites him the most. Finishing inside of you, feeling your warm walls fill up with him, leaking out of your folds, making a mess while he slips in and out, unable to retract his gaze away from his cum leaking out of you.

“Fuck, look at this mess, mama.”

Or have you beg for him to finish inside of you, get you fucking pregnant with the way he's holding onto the headboard, the way it hits the wall with so much force matching the way he's fucking into you, unable to control himself.

“Fuck a baby into me, Rudy.” Yeah, he's a goner.

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𝑷𝒉𝒊𝒍𝒊𝒑 𝑮𝒓𝒂𝒗𝒆𝒔: 𝑫𝒆𝒈𝒓𝒂𝒅𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏.

Whether you work for him or not, this man will make sure you understand the weight of his title and authority. He loves it when you call him "sir," begging him to touch you, desperate for his attention.

He has the upper hand. He's in control, and he'd make sure that you know it. Reminding you that if you move from whatever position he has you in, you'd face the consequences. Whether it's him bending you over the nearest surface or denying you to orgasm until your mascara is running down your cheeks and your voice is hoarse from asking permission to cum.

“Only a slut like you could make me feel this good.”

“Touch yourself and don’t stop unless I tell you to, am I clear?”

“Only a dirty, nasty slut like you would come with a gun against her cunt.” (oh, this is a topic for another time.)

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𝑽𝒂𝒍𝒆𝒓𝒊𝒂 𝑮𝒂𝒓𝒛𝒂: 𝑽𝒐𝒚𝒆𝒖𝒓𝒊𝒔𝒎.

She's a busy woman, giving commands to over a hundred men working for her, controlling an entire corporation all by herself, it can be exhausting. Until her pretty girl walks into her office, all needy and desperate for her touch, but she can't leave her tasks unfinished, and you know it.

And so she'd have you strip naked in front of her, slowly, giving her a front seat to her favourite show while she's leaning back against the chair, legs on the desk while she's talking to someone on the phone. Her eyes wouldn't leave your body for a second, afraid she might miss the way each piece of clothing falls on the ground and your skin unravels before her.

“You know what to do, cariña. Touch yourself for me.”

A masterpiece. Your body on the luxurious velvet sofa, legs spread open and your glistening slick dripping down your thighs while you rub your clit for her entertainment. You know she'll reward you generously later.

[dearlydevoured]

felix neumann . . .

who is so guilt-ridden after the high rollers mission. he’ll come to you after everyone had fallen asleep for the night and you’ll sit up, watching him get on his knees at the side of your bed and press his forehead on your knee. he’ll beg for forgiveness after the day’s events. do you see him any differently after this mission? do you hate him? are you disgusted with how he lost it on that man? he’ll ask a thousand questions and give a million apologies.

run your hand through his hair and he’ll melt under your touch, gentle as usual. “you did nothing wrong,” you’d remind him, even if he saw it differently. “i still love you all the same, felix.” he would look up at you like your judgment is what determines where he’ll go after death and you’ll slink your hand around to his cheek in response, rubbing it with your thumb slowly. back and forth, back and forth.

felix would kiss your knee and run the trail up your thigh, crawling into the bed. it’s cramped and far too small for the two of you but you’ll make the space work, watching as he eventually laid his head in your lap and squeeze the thin fabric of your shirt.

[musouie]

⤷ simon shows his love in less…conventional ways, and you always indulge him. | implied violence, gn!reader, hurt/comfort, (devotion and sacrifice and blood (the holy trinity)) 0.5k wc

you’ve come to recognise simon’s love language as acts of service.

not in a typical way, of course. he doesn’t pitch in with the laundry, doesn’t help do the dishes either (not unless you guilt him into it, with a string of sighs and narrowed glances.)

his servitude is instead buried beneath layers. seeping out through the holes and tears in his t-shirts. dripping from the bruises across his knuckles, swelling up on the crest of his cheekbones.

“a necessary evil,” is what he calls it, a cruel glimmer dancing in his eyes as you wind a bandage around his cut up arm; huffing around a grim satisfaction that settles itself amongst the fractures in his ribs.

when he brushes your hair back from your face and presses kisses to the inside of your wrists, you say nothing, because this is the only way simon knows how.

it is all too easy, then, to fall into the chasm that yawns open in his presence. too easy to swallow his words and lap up the sweetness that drips from his lips when they collide with your own —

— too easy to stoke the fire again.

it flares up when you return home from work, half an hour later than you usually do; simon is sitting on the front steps and jumps to his feet when he sees you approaching.

“where ‘ave ya’ been, bird? thought i might ‘ave ta’ put up one of ‘em missing persons flyers soo–” his joke dies on his tongue as you near him, close enough now that he can make out the redness in your eyes, the mascara smudged beneath your lashes, droplets clinging to them still. 

your name leaves his mouth in a broken sort of sigh. “what ‘appened, love?”

and then you’re in his arms, and everything comes spilling out. you tell him about the h.r. meeting, the coworker who falsely accused you of stealing their work, the yelling and the shame and the ultimatum.

he just rubs your back in small circles as you break down against him, cradling you like porcelain, like his hands can soothe away the shards and splinters (even if his rough edges grate against your own, making them all the sharper.)

you barely feel it when he kisses your forehead and takes your hand, leading you inside and locking the door behind you. you barely notice when he guides you to your bedroom, peels your clothes from your skin, and switches them out for something more comfortable (his healed bruises begin to open, blood trickling down and down, opened because he cradled you still.)

(his blood begins to pour when he lowers you to your mattress, pulls your comforter up to your shoulders, leaves a kiss at the corner of your mouth as he murmurs ‘goodnight’.)

you barely register the dip in your mattress hours later, the tugging against the sheets — the metallic scent of blood, the scratches on his face, the new cuts and bruises, the pained groans as he shifts closer (they are gifts, the kind that can never truly be unwrapped; the only thing simon knows is his pain and you are the only thing that makes his heart crack wide open — to bleed him dry and soothe him at the same time.)

his large hands make for your waist, tugging you closer. only then does your sharpness dull (and his grows.)

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