#callofduty oc

[soullesscinders]

tags: oc x oc porn w very little plot. rank kink, unprotected piv, oral (f!receiving), impact play, breath play, breeding kink if you squint, uhhhhhh lmk if I missed anything <3

NOT PROOFREAD

MDNI UNDER THE CUT

When they met, they *instantly* felt it. There was a subtle, underlying heat that neither were willing to address.

Especially because Mav is Caldera's superior officer. That alone breaks more than a few hundred regs.

For the first mission, Mav is both angry ~~and turned on~~ at the fact Cal takes charge and throws his orders out the window. His grip tightens on his gun, his accent thicker than usual from annoyance.

"*Schieße*, Caldera. Do you *want* to get everyone killed?" He hisses into her ear, a firm hand gripping the back of her collar. She can feel his warmth against her back, his breath on her neck, and smirks.

"No. Tryin' to avoid gettin' everybody killed. That's why they listen to me, Lieutenant Colonel. You'd do well to understand why." She snarks back and shrugs him off, heading into the hot zone. Leaving Mav scowling at her back, wanting nothing more than to slap that stupid fucking smirk off her face, pin her down and-

Ghost and Soap watch, Soap with a single eyebrow raised as he slowly turns his head to look at his husband.

"Steamin' Jesus, Simon. Didja see tha'?" He mutters. Ghost grunts, and nods.

"Tha' I did. Li'l bird's gonna get 'erself in trouble if she ain't careful around Maverik."

Soap chuckles.

~~~

Back in the debrief, Mav's eyes are locked on the back of Caldera's head.

Lucky for her, he doesn't have lazers in those eyes of his.

She's got that cocky smirk again, glancing at Maverik out of the corner of her eye. His fists tighten at his sides, but he bites his tongue.

The literal moment the debrief is over, he crosses the room and grips her upper arm tightly, beginning to drag her toward his room. She fights a little, but he's got a few solid inches on her in height and nearly a hundred pounds on her in weight, so it doesn't work as well as she hopes.

"What the- Fuck- Maverik! What a' you-" He cuts her off, spinning her around and pulling her in front of him by her collar, the fabric fisted in his gloved hands.

"You think dis is funny, *ja?* Funny to piss me off. Funny to tease." He snarls, face barely an inch from hers. She goes to answer but he shuts her up, forcing her back into the wall beside them. The air leaves her lungs in a *whoosh*, and he delights in the way her breathing hitches, eyes glinted with fear and... something else.

She says nothing, only letting out a tiny whimper in response.

That noise goes straight to his cock, and he growls, pressing her harder into the wall. His hips press into hers, allowing her zero room to doubt his desire, his *need* for this stubborn, fiery explosives specialist.

"Here's what's going to happen, Caldera. You and I will go to my quarters, lock ze door, and you will learn that your place is under me, stuffed full of my cock. You following me so far?" He murmurs heatedly, one of his hands shifting to grip her throat. Her breathing skips, heartbeat thudding wildly against his fingers as she nods.

"Y-Yes, sir." She stammers, going lax. He grins in near sadistic delight at the way she *finally,* finally fucking submits.

"Good girl." He purrs, tightening his grip on her neck. He steps closer, his other hand drifting to her thigh to hitch it around his hip. His stiffening cock presses into her clit through their pants and she shudders, her hips bucking toward him involuntarily.

"I wonder if I should fuck you right here, instead. You'd like that, wouldn't you? Let everyone see you get railed by the Lieutenant Colonel..." Maverik whispers, leaning close to her ear. He shifts his mask up to the bridge of his nose and nips the shell of her ear softly, relishing in the way she shivers. So pretty, so reactive.

"Get that tight little ass to my room," He whispers in her ear.

"Get naked. Face down, ass up, hands behind your back. Okay?" He practically purrs, grinding his stiff cock into her. She whines in response and nods shakily. He abruptly lets her go, allowing the fiery, *hot*, little soldier to scurry to his room.

He adjusts his pants, eyes locked on her ass.

"This girl..." He mutters to himself, hard as a rock. He follows at a leisurely pace, watching her disappear.

By the time he makes it to his room, she's listened. And so beautifully, too.

Face pressed to the pillow, her back in such a pretty arch. The curve of her ass, pale in the low lighting of his room. He bites his lip, slowly stepping closer as he pulls the mask off, quickly followed by his hat.

"So pretty... Such an eager little girl, hm? Been *dying* for me to put you in your place?" He purrs, trailing a teasing finger up the back of her thigh, smirking as she whimpers slightly.

She's got the sense enough not to speak, thankfully. He lightly taps the inside of her thigh.

"Let's see how wet you are for me, hm?" He murmurs, his voice low and smooth. She opens her legs at the command, trembling with anticipation. He runs a gloved finger through her soaking folds, grinning at the way her pussy tries to suck him in.

"Desperate, aren't you?" He purrs teasingly. "Such a pretty little slut. Always defying my orders, always... fighting me... Not the case anymore, now is it?"

Maverik unbuttons his pants, tugging them down his thighs as he positions himself behind her, his face level with her sopping pussy.

His mouth attaches to her clit, and he *groans* at how she tastes, devouring her pussy from behind while she moans into the pillow, squirming.

His words are sin, whispers against her twitching clit.

"So pretty for me, puppy. So sweet," He nearly growls, tongue lashing at her spasming sex as she nearly sobs into the pillow, gripping the sheets.

"C'mon, princess. Cum for me, lemme taste it." He slaps her ass, and that's all it takes for the coil in her belly to snap. She cums hard, squealing into the pillow and he *groans*, lapping at her drooling cunt as she tries in vain to squirm away.

"M-Mav, p-please, 's too much-" She starts, nearly sobbing from the overstimulation, but he doesn't let up, gripping her hips and keeping her exactly where he wants her. He slaps her ass again.

"What'd you just call me, slut?" He barks. She lets out the prettiest whine.

"M-Mav-" Caldera gasps out, but he cuts her off with another sharp slap to her ass, making her moan into the pillow.

"Try again, little one." He growls, tongue lashing at her clit again. She tries to squirm away, and his hand grips her thigh so tight she briefly worries it'll bruise.

"S-Sir!" She whimpers, and he finally backs off her pussy, scarcely giving her a chance to breathe as his hand slides up her back to the nape of her neck, gripping her hair tightly and forcing her back into a pretty arch.

He slides his tip through her weeping folds, notching the head at her entrance, making her whimper and wriggle her hips back, though he doesn't push in.

No matter how much he wants- no, *needs* to feel her tight velvet heat around his cock, he wants her to beg.

Pale, almost unnaturally white irises peer down at her pussy, his cock poised perfectly to sink in, he speaks, his voice rough but with a warmth, an underlying tenderness belying his feelings.

"Beg for it, Caldera. Beg for me to fuck you raw." He nearly snarls. She whines and tries pushing back, wanting nothing more than for him to impale her on his thick dick.

"P-Please, sir, please fuck me~" She pants. He tuts, gripping her hips tighter.

"Now, now, Maus. Is that any way to speak to a superior officer?" He coos mockingly, slapping her ass again.

"Beg harder, little whore. Be a good puppy for me, liebe." He taps her hip and she pants, whining.

"Please, Lieutenant Colonel, I'll be so good for you, please, I need to feel you inside me, please, please-" He cuts off her absolutely pitiful rambling and slams inside her with one firm thrust, her voice breaking off into a pretty cry of pleasure. He starts a near brutal pace, almost pulling out all the way before slamming back in.

Caldera's whimpers, sighs, and moans of pleasure are music to his ears, and he groans, her heat pulsing around him.

"Fuck, Maus, sound so fuckin' pretty. So tight. Wanna live in this cunt." He keeps up his pace, the words falling unbidden from his lips. He leans into it, forcing her to take it, take it all like a good girl for him.

"Take it, puppy. Take it all. Make you think twice the next time you wanna run that pretty mouth at me, *ja?*" He hisses, picking up the pace of his thrusts, long and deep.

She almost sobs into the pillow, gripping the sheets. Maverick swears, wishing he could burn this imagine of the fiery, stubborn, rude Sergeant into his brain.

"Little slut just needed this, huh? To be fucked like the whore she is. Next time you get mouthy, just tell me baby girl, we can fix it for you. Make that attitude drip out of this pretty pussy, *ja?*" His words, sinful and growly, do nothing to help the coil already tightening in her belly again.

Her cheeks burn in both shame and arousal, dripping around the throbbing cock pounding into her from behind, pussy fluttering and trying to suck him in. It makes Maverik grin in sadistic glee, fucking into her with hard, steady strokes. He's getting closer, he knows it. But he wants to feel his pretty girl cum on his cock before he lets go.

"C'mon baby, I can feel this pretty cunt clenching. You're close, aren't you? Say it, puppy, sing for me." He commands, picking up the pace just slightly.

She whines into the pillow, moaning and trembling, eyes rolling back in her head as she creeps closer and closer. Maverik's hand comes down, rubbing tight circles on her sticky little clit, moaning at the way she tightens around him.

"C'mon baby, c'mon. Squeeze my cock with your sweet pussy, be a good girl and cum for your Lieutenant Colonel." He groans, and that's all it takes.

Caldera cums hard, squealing and shaking, drenching his thighs and the bed beneath them. Maverik's grip on herbhips tightens, and he leans his full body weight into fucking her through it to his own end.

One, two, three thrusts later, he cums deep, his moan pure filth as his body shudders, the force of his orgasm stealing his breath as he spills white hot ropes into her womb.

He lazily strips himself naked and pulls out with a shiver, pressing a quick kiss to her head while he starts the bath. He fills the tub with warm water and soap, before returning and picking her up bridal style. She nuzzles his chest sleepily as he murmurs praises.

"Did so good, liebling. So good for me. Rest, *ja?*" He whispers and kisses her forehead. he gets in the bath and sits, situating his pretty puppy so her back is against his chest and washes her body gently with a washcloth.

His puppy. His toy.

His love.

*His.*

[la-petite-lapin]

Unlikely Friendships | Masterpost

Navigation

Simon "Ghost" Riley x single mum!reader (sweetheart) 18+, Minors DNI

parts marked * = contains smut

Last updated: 9/12/24

Part One - Simon meets Sweetheart and Sunnie Part Two - Sweetheart comes back to base Part Three - Sweetheart and Simon have some alone time

[league-of-sam]

Don't Be Shy | Konig x Reader

Kӧnig x TF141 x AFAB!Reader

PART FIVE

Summary: Transferred against your will to a new task force to calm a troubled soldier, you felt way in over your head - especially when you came face to face with a 6'10" mountain of Austria. 18+ MINORS DNI! t.w // angst, mental health, language, violence, human trafficking, death, sexual themes/SMUT, military inaccuracies, language inaccuracies (google translate).

1 / 2 / 3 / 4

You’d been banished to your dorm since returning from the mission.

A week of being practically locked in there since being released from the hospital wing, the stitches from the bullet graze in your thigh long disintegrated. All that remained now was a sore, red, angry scar.

Your first one.

You caught yourself laughing as you looked at it; Ghost would be so proud of your first battle scar.

Thankfully, the rescued women were as healthy and safe as they could possibly be and were already being placed in safe houses or returned to their loved ones.

But you…you’d already been on the receiving end of a mouthful from Price, Ghost, and Fender for not following orders and almost getting yourself killed.

It was frustrating that they couldn’t see why you did what you did.

Even more so that after saving his life, König still wasn’t giving you the time of day. Little did you know, it wasn’t because he was mad at you, it was because he was mad at himself.

He always hated how people wouldn’t give him a chance to explain himself, and that’s exactly what he did to you that night at the range. You tried, but he wouldn’t allow it. He pushed you away, and you still jumped in front of a bullet for him. You still threw yourself between a deadly weapon and an innocent young girl.

You were the selfless among the selfish.

And when he saw the way you fell, blood pouring from your thigh, he almost threw up.

He thought you were dead…he thought he’d lost you. And it was all his fault. Too occupied in trying to get the job done.

He had to see you.

Once again, you found yourself on the end of a video call, but this time, the entirety of the 141 and Laswell was present, making sure you were okay.

“You’re a fuckin’ idiot, pet, you know that?”

“What, like you’ve never thrown yourself at a crazy man with a gun? You can’t fool me, MacTavish.”

“Uh- no, that is- that’s irrelevant!”

“She’s got ya there, Johnny.”

“Yeah, Johnny, listen to your man.” You teased.

“Watch it, little one.” Ghost threatened, and you held up your hands in surrender. “Seriously though, ya did good. Just come ‘ome safe, yeah?”

“I will. Night guys, I love you.”

They copied your words, Gaz blowing you few kisses as their laptop closed, and the call ended.

Huffing, you began getting ready for bed, slipping into your fluffy pyjama shorts and the matching top.

Then, you let out a scream as your door flung open, and a mammoth of a man adorned in a black shirt and black sweatpants barged in, slamming the door behind him.

“Kӧnig what the fuck?! You scared the absolute shit out of me! You didn’t even knock! I could’ve been-”

“Bitte, I’m sorry.” He cut you off, but his voice was barely above a whisper.

Your hand rested over your chest, trying to calm your heart, “What the hell are you doing here?”

He didn’t speak right away, his lacking social skills surfacing as he faltered under your gaze. Your brow was raised, awaiting his answer. His eyes raked over your body, and he found himself blushing as he took in the way your little shorts hugged your thighs so lusciously, your little top showing off your midriff.

Du sahst so wunderschön aus. (You looked so gorgeous.)

“Kӧnig,” you spoke again, “What are you doing here?”

He cleared his throat, stepping into the room a little more, “I wanted to see if you were alright.”

“I’m fine.”

He nodded, and his gaze landed onto the scar on your thigh. His chest tightened at the sight of the evidence – the reminder that you almost weren’t here.

Because of him.

“You shouldn’t have done that.” He spoke, nodding towards your leg.

“What? Save your life?”

“Ja.”

“Are you crazy?”

“Nein. You shouldn’t try and sacrifice yourself for someone like me.”

You scoffed, folding your arms across your chest, “You know, this is a really fucked up way of thanking me, König.”

“Why didn’t you just let me die?”

Tears clouded your vision, “What?”

“I’d rather it have been me than you.” His voice started to raise.

“That’s not- you don’t leave your teammate to die! I acted in the moment; I did what was right!”

“You acted like a dummkopf! (idiot)” he shouted.

“Excuse me?”

“Why would you jump in front of a bullet for me?! You could have died! That was so stupid and so fucking-”

“Because I’m falling in love with you!” you yelled back, hand running through your hair as you panted.

Something snapped within him.

Something changed.

Your words ignited a fire within him, blazing furiously, burning the blood in his veins until it bubbled, his skin tingling.

You noticed too, as those gorgeous blue eyes darkened under the sniper hood, backing up until the back of your knees hit your bed as he stalked towards you.

The moment he reached you, he yanked the hood from his head, revealing his face.

That’s what he had hiding under there?

Beautiful auburn hair, wild and messy from his hood. Pale, freckled skin, adorned with multiple silvered scars. One in particular ran from his chin, through his plump lips, up to his cheek bone. You wanted to reach out and touch it, feel him under your fingertips.

Your entire body was shaking.

His tongue ran over his lips, making them shine in the dim light coming from your tiny lamp. He watched you as your eyes flicked over his face, mouth opening slightly as you marvelled at the sight.

Despite his blushing, he smirked, and it made your eyes widen.

“What was that you just said, liebling? (darling)”

He towered over you, hands moving to rest against your hips, dragging your body flush against his.

You looked everywhere but at him.

“Kӧnig-” you stuttered out.

He lowered you down onto the mattress, one hand pinning both of your wrists above your head while the other gripped your chin softly, forcing you to look at him.

“What’s a matter, mein schatz? (my love) Don’t be shy.”

You opened your mouth to speak, but no words would come out. Considering his size, he was being so soft, so gentle, and it was turning your brain to mush.

His thumb rubbed over your lips, pulling them apart slightly as his other hand kept your arms firmly above your head.

Your breathing was heavy, and the heat growing in the pit of your stomach was getting more and more prominent.

“Ich will dich…so sehr. (I want you…so much)” He whispered, his hands shaking slightly.

His forehead pressed to yours as he released your arms, and you wasted no time in placing your hands on his body. Your fingers grazed his cheek, running over the scar as you took his face into your hands.

“Ich will dich auch. (I want you too)” You whispered back, eyes burning into his.

He let out a noise, somewhere between a growl and a moan, before the grip on your chin tightened, and he smashed his lips to yours.

You kissed him back with the same need, the same desperation, his own whimpers matching yours as they escaped through his nose.

The feeling of his lips on yours was divine…ethereal.

This shy, socially anxious, mammoth of a man had taken full control of the situation, shifting you up the bed and wrapping your legs around his waist. You gasped at the movement, and he took the opportunity to plunge his tongue into your mouth.

A deep, animal-like growl bubbled from his chest, spilling over into your mouth as he dove deeper, desperate to chase the taste of you. Your hips bucked; your body not willing to wait any longer for the heat in your groin to be satisfied.

“Eager, mein liebe?” he chuckled, before ducking his face into your neck, nipping, sucking, biting.

He was marking you.

Making sure every man knew who you truly belonged to.

“Kӧnig, please-” you whimpered, fingers threading through his hair, tugging softly.

He groaned at the sensation, head dropping into your nape as his eyes rolled. His fingers dug into your skin as they roamed your body, no doubt leaving small bruises. He was holding back, and you knew it.

“Please,” you moaned, “Please, Kӧnig…berühre mich. (touch me)”

“God, baby-” he grunted, “You have no idea what you do to me, speak my language so pretty, so well.”

He smashed his lips to yours, only parting to pull your shirt over your head, exposing your skin to the cool air of the room. But you didn’t care, you were burning hot, just for him. You followed his actions, tugging on the hem of his shirt.

Timidly, he pulled it off, tossing it onto the floor. Your eyes widened as you took in his physique. Christ, it was like this man had been sculpted by the Gods personally. Your fingers delicately traced along his abs, bumping over raised scars, making him shiver.

They dipped lower, grazing over the unmissable bulge fighting to be freed from the confines of his sweatpants.

Everything about him was big.

He sucked in a breath, letting out a shaky moan as you stroked him until he snapped, pinning your wrists back above your head.

“You know how much I wanted this? How many times I wanted to have you right there? Those lessons were the highlight of my weeks, sweetheart.” He purred, hands roaming your bare flesh.

“Y-you should h-have, would’ve l-let you.” You stuttered out, breath choppy as he took your breast, his fingertips squeezing the nipple harshly.

He smiled shyly, eyes meeting yours, “You’re a good girl, ja?”

You nodded, words failing you as praise rolled off his tongue, letting out noises that sounded almost angelic to him.

Kӧnig then shifted, tugging your little shorts from your body, his giant hand running slowly up your leg. He dipped down, placing a delicate kiss to your scar. His hands then continued their journey until they reached your cunt, a long finger slipping slowly between your slick-covered folds.

“I would die for you.” He whispered, “Would you let me die for you, hübsches mädchen? (pretty girl) Protect your body with my own? Let me worship you?”

You were babbling incoherent nonsense at this point, the sensation of him touching you completely overwhelming, “God, yes…Kӧnig please, please touch- oh, f-fuck-”

“You’re so good, (Y/N), so good.” He spoke as he slipped a finger inside of you, curling to reach that spot with every thrust.

You bit your lip hard to keep from screaming, the metal taste of blood flooding your mouth, allowing the sounds to slip.

“You sound so beautiful, angel.” He cooed, continuing to finger you at a blistering pace.

He was relentless, desperate to make you cum before he got his cock anywhere near you, desperate to make you feel good – make up for what a mess he’d made of everything.

Your moans and whimpers spurred him on, showing him that he was doing the right thing.

The way your nails dug into his back as you clung to him almost made him finish right there in his pants.

You were magnificent.

Especially when your back arched, your breasts bouncing right in front of his face as his name slipped out of your mouth like some foul chant, ramming you into ecstasy.

Kӧnig, Kӧnig, Kӧnig, Kӧnig…

The way his name rolled off your tongue unlocked something deep within him.

He pulled his fingers from you, lapping up every drop of your release, before slamming his lips to yours, making you taste yourself. Hoisting you up, he locked your legs over his hips, lining himself up with your entrance.

“Bitte, can I?” he whimpered as his tip rubbed between your folds, “Please, Schatz, let me-”

Tears sprung in his eyes, his desperation to feel you becoming too much.

“Fuck me, Kӧnig. Don’t hold back.”

He let out a sob of relief, before he slid his cock into you, inch by glorious inch. He was huge, the biggest you’d ever been with, and he filled you up as if your pussy was made just for him. The minute he bottomed out, he let out a cry, one hand fisting handfuls of your hair as the other gripped the bedsheet in a hopeless effort to control himself.

Then, with a rhythm that sent white hot pleasure coursing through you, he rocked his hips, snapping against yours with every thrust. Your hands clawed and grabbed at his flesh as you mewled out a mess of words, barely able to string a sentence together.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” he repeated, his pace quickening.

You whined, tears from the pain of him stretching you falling from your eyes, “Feels so good-”

“Oh, don’t cry, liebling.” He spoke, thumb padding your wet cheeks, “It’s okay, you’re doing so well, taking me so well…such a good girl…”

Grunts fell from his lips as he couldn’t control himself any longer, his pace speeding up as he chased his release. The pressure built for you again, and he could feel the walls of your cunt squeeze, making him whimper.

“That’s it, schnuckie, cum for me- please, scheiße (fuck) cum for me.”

You didn’t need any more encouragement, and with a scream of his name, your body arched, your climax completely obscuring your vision to the point you saw stars.

With a few more agonisingly rough snaps with his hips, profanities falling from his mouth, Kӧnig erupted inside of you, his cock pulsing over and over as his seed spilled out, white and dripping.

His arms gave out, heavy breaths from both of you as his body lay on yours.

Your fingers ran through his dampened hair as you clung to him, his arms locking you in place beneath him.

He lifted his head, rubbing his nose on your temple as he placed a chaste kiss to your cheek, then your forehead, then your nose.

“Meine schöne, kleine prinzessin...(my beautiful, tiny princess)” he mumbled before he finally pressed his lips to yours.

It took a good twenty minutes for the two of you to calm down, the thin layer of sweat sticking your skin together, not allowing you to part. Finally, your breathing had returned to a somewhat normal level, as good as can be as Kӧnig peppered tiny kisses along your shoulder.

You blushed furiously, trying to hide away from his gaze.

“Don’t be shy,” he whispered as he held you to his chest, arms tight around your waist, “Not around me. Du bist zu schön, um schüchtern zu sein. (you’re too beautiful to be shy)”

You sighed softly, turning in his arms to face him, your hands dancing along his scar, “Also bist du. (so are you)”

Kӧnig groaned as his eyes fell shut, trying to conceal it, but your constant reassurances and praise of him made his heart wild - it made that primal, instinctive urge within him burst out like a feral beast.

It made him want you, need you in every way possible.

And you were more than willing to oblige.

König marvelled as the truck pulled up on base.

It was so different to KorTac, so much smaller and less grand, hidden, and private, but it was home to you.

Finally, you were home.

You hadn’t even gotten out of the truck before you heard Soap’s yelling as he came bounding across the tarmac toward you.

Jumping out, you yelled something to him, making him freeze in place as the others caught up. They watched on, confused, but desperate to hold you in their arms again now that you were home.

You moved around to the other side of the truck, opening the door to see König looking at you, his leg bouncing nervously as his thumbs twiddled in his lap.

“You ready, big guy?” you smiled to him, taking his hand.

“As long as I have you next to me, I’m ready for anything, schnucki.”

You blushed furiously at the nickname, and he leaned forward, lifting his sniper hood just enough to reveal his lips, placing them on yours for a soft kiss.

Giggling as you pulled away, you dragged him from the vehicle, pulling him around to where the boys of the 141 saw him for the first time.

Just imagine their faces as you came from the side of the vehicle, an absolute behemoth of a man attached to your side.

Imagine the way Soap faltered as you reached them, König’s giant shoulders casting one huge shadow over them all.

Imagine Price’s initial horror as he clocked onto your fingers being woven tightly with those of the crazy, mammoth killer.

Imagine the way Ghost puffed out his chest to make himself look bigger as he squared up to König, having also noticed the way the big man kept you close;

“Now, you may be bigger-”

“A lot bigger!”Soap had yelled from somewhere.

“Yes- thank you, Johnny. A lot bigger, but make no mistake, soldier. You hurt my (Y/N); I’ll make sure no one even remembers you existed. Capeesh?”

“Y-yes, sir.” König had stuttered out, shaking in his boots.

Then there was you, fingers pressed to your nose as you looked to the floor, “Jesus fuck, Simon, leave him alone!”

Imagine König coming to your room after his first day with the 141, exhausted from the training he’d endured.

“I like them…like it here.” He’d speak, fingers running through your hair as you laid on his chest.

“They spent all day trying to kick the shit out of you.”

They had tried, each and every one of them completely underestimating the sheer strength that Kӧnig possessed. He was a super soldier, a battering ram. A fucking force.

He’d laugh, dropping his head to kiss your lips, “Ja. But only because they love you, schatz. They protect you…and so will I.”

“Yeah?”

“Bis zum ende der zeile. (until the end of the line)”

[zghost333]

:)

[snookkit2]

cod oc content !!

[dmsweetking20]

A Christmas in a traditional family

Mother, enemy of the state and terrorist, son and daughter drawing idea:

[annaphoenix1994]

Something in the Orange

Previous Chapter - Masterlist - Next Chapter

»»-------¤-------««

I woke up to the sight of my ceiling fan – heavy eyes blurring my vision as well as clogged sinuses. Last night's events were vague in my memory, but I couldn't help but notice the lingering smell of Simon's cologne that I remembered from last night – it was insanely attractive, and I had to fight every cell in my body to keep my lingering eyes less obvious because he was certainly different outside of his uniform.

Although I can't deny that I would let this man do whatever he pleased with me in my bed, I sincerely hoped that it didn't happen last night. I at least would want to remember it if that was the case, or maybe not – because it would definitely make it awkward between us when we'd return back to Alejandro's base.

Standing to my aching feet, I couldn't help but be drawn to the lingering smell of fresh coffee. This was mine and Simon's usual routine at this point, either having a cup of coffee (or whiskey) at a table together, having mindless chatter about random things just to keep the silence at a minimum, but since he agreed to come back with me, our conversations between each other were slowly turning into little sneak peeks into the other's mind. Though our conversations weren't as deep, I felt like I had peeled enough of him back to know that he was emotionally unavailable because he couldn't find resolve within himself, and that was okay, because I was the same way except the only difference was that I was more vocal about it than he seemed to be.

Throwing my hair into a loose bun, I rubbed my eyes again as my bare feet traced along the wood floor that led into the kitchen, and a smile couldn't help spreading across my face.

Simon left coffee for me, the pot still on the warmer plate with thin sheets of steam surrounding it, a clean mug set alongside it, and I chuckled when I realized that he had found my favorite mug, though I knew it was likely a coincidence. When I noticed a small note written on a piece of scrap paper, I couldn't help but smile.

Gotta love this man's sense of humor... 

I took a test sip before deeming it perfect after I added ice and creamer, looking to my left to see the curtain that covered the back patio's sliding glass door was pulled open, and I knew that it was likely to find Simon there. He didn't say it, but I could tell that he liked to sit in isolation in the morning, seeming to just stare into space when I had a feeling that he was continuing to fight a battle within himself.

I stood and watched him for a few moments, wondering what he could be thinking about. Was he uncomfortable here? Did he regret agreeing to come with me for leave? Did he get too drunk last night, too?

It was when I saw a cloud of smoke shoot out from his nostrils before I realized that I had gotten more drunk than I had thought, because I never let my vape pen out of my sight.

He had to have taken it from me at some point, and I knew it wasn't because he was craving nicotine, then I remembered that he told me recently that he smokes when he's anxious. 

He didn't smoke once when we were deployed, and suddenly he smoked when he wasn't getting shot at?

"I see how it is," I scoffed playfully, watching that handsome face of his turning towards my voice, his strong jaw relaxing. "Guess you were anxious last night if you resorted to wanting a hit of fruity nicotine." I poked.

He smirked, shrugging his shoulders, those straight white teeth complementing his naturally tan complexion. How was this man so gorgeous for no fucking reason? Maybe that's why he covers his face when on duty...

"No, I cut you off because you were sucking on it like a pacifier. Can't blame you, though. Tastes good."

"Cactus Gummy Worm is my favorite flavor," I shrugged, the familiar taste making my tongue twitch at the thought. I knew it was bad for me, but apparently, so was everything else. My father preached that soda was bad for me, yet he drinks one in the morning, afternoon, and dinner with nine glasses of sweet tea in between, yet he's as lean as an athlete. He also said that drinking was bad for me, yet he drinks it before he goes to bed. He says that sugar is bad for me, but he has a whole pile of candy at his bedside because "if I don't have it, I go in knots," yet when I'd ask him if he's diabetic, his stubborn ass just says, "don't think so, and I don't give a shit." He says that the military was no place for a woman, yet he knew I could do it when I told him I enlisted.

The only thing I guess he was right about was when he said drinking coffee before hitting puberty would stun my growth, and I believe it, because I'm only five-foot-three and in my early thirty's.

"What?" He cocked his brow at me.

"That's the flavor of the juice that I put in it, Simon. And don't you look at me funny because I wasn't the one who named it."

He breathed a laugh at me, and I wondered if he knew just how attractive he was... for doing nothing at all! He had me squeezing my thighs together just by a look, yet I was too scared to make my attraction to him obvious because the last thing I wanted was to be rejected. It hurts and being rejected by a man like him would crush me, yet I couldn't understand why because we haven't known each other long at all.

My breath hitched when I watched him exhale through his mouth and inhale at the same time back through his nose. He did it so effortlessly, and I knew he had smoked a lot in the past or does occasionally, because it's very hard to do what's called a French Waterfall.

"Probably a good thing that you didn't have the responsibility for naming it. Could be much worse," He teased, his smirk quickly falling when I was completely oblivious to his pestering because I was too busy trying not to make it obvious. "I'm just messing with you, love. Here." He said, offering it back to me.

"You can have it," I waved him off. "I have a disposable one somewhere—"

"No, it's yours. I tucked it in my pocket when I took it away from you last night. Must've fallen asleep with it there."

I sighed before taking it from his hand, my finger gliding across the rough skin of his index finger, its warmth making me crave his body against mine, and I could smell the fabric of his jeans against my SMOK, the detergent mixed with his natural musk and cologne driving my senses wild.

My period must be coming up or something. 

I need to be spayed because this is ridiculous. This man handed me back my SMOK and I'm horny because my finger grazed his and I can smell him on it. Jesus!

"Simon, did we—" The words flowed out of my lips like vomit – I couldn't stop the invasive question as it was the first thing I thought of when I could smell his lingering scent on my pillow... in my bed, knowing that he had a room of his own. I needed to know.

"No," He shook his head, seeming like he knew what I was thinking before I even spoke. "I wouldn't do something like that."

"What? Never have sex?" I giggled, desperate to hide my embarrassment for asking something stupid, though the thought was nice. Obviously, because I do remember the way he guarded my purse and drink last night, tending to me in such a natural way that wanted me to have his children – to bring more men like him into the world, because every lady deserves to have a man be so naturally protective around her, even if they were friends or not. Regardless if women like me were strong and independent, I still craved to embrace my feminine energy instead of being used to operating in a masculine mindset all of the time – always worrying about my own safety as well as other women, always putting up a strong front to prevent asshole men from taking advantage of me, or being talked to like I was a dog from some men I encounter. Being around Simon was refreshing because not once did I have to feel like I needed to put up a strong front around him. He seemed to see me for who I really was, his gestures were gentle and supportive. Hell, even when he had to restrain me from instigating Soap, he was gentle with his grasp, yet firm.

"No," He corrected. "I respect you too much to let something like that happen. You were drunk. Threw up everywhere in the bathroom and you asked me to sleep next to you, so I did."

"Oh... I-I'm sorry, Simon. I know that was probably way out of your comfort zone."

"Love, if I have to be honest, I've been out of my comfort zone since I got on that plane,"

Oh, God. I knew he was regretting his decision.

I felt his eyes on me, like he was studying my reaction to his words before he continued, "But that doesn't mean I haven't enjoyed it."

"Really?"

"If I didn't mean it, I wouldn't have said it, love," He arched his brow at me, his tone serious, yet soft. "I don't mind coming out of my comfort zone once in a while."

"I'm the same way, I guess."

"You get comfortable around new people too quickly, love. That's the difference between you and me."

His words made me take an anxious inhale from my SMOK, mentally preparing myself for any rejection I felt like I was about to get. "Can you elaborate?..."

"You were comfortable with inviting me, a literal stranger, to your home for holiday. You let me stay in your house and got drunk enough last night that anything could've happened if I had ill intentions. If the roles were reversed, I would've never invited you in the first place, because I've learned a long time ago that choices have consequences, and I don't like letting my guard down to let someone in because every time I do, someone gets hurt, and not from me." He frowned. Yep, I knew it. I went too far already by getting drunk and making him feel obligated into taking care of me. Fuck, I'm so stupid.

"I'm sorry."

"Why are you apologizing?"

"Because I feel stupid now that you elaborated." I sighed, taking a seat in the open chair a few feet away from him. The air felt thin around us, although it was probably just me feeling like this.

"You shouldn't. I'm just saying that you and I are completely different when it comes to what you call a comfort zone."

"And you call it a boundary?"

He shrugged, "I guess you could call it that."

I didn't respond. Instead, I took another sip from my mug and crossed my leg over the opposite, my SMOK tucked between my mug and index finger, eager to take another drag in desperate hope of easing my anxiety. My stare on the landscape in front of me was intense, yet I could feel him looking at me, could feel the wood beneath me vibrating from the weight of his heel tapping the patio below him. It seemed like he was anxious, too, except he was probably feeling awkward instead of the same way I was feeling.

I felt his eyes on me for a few moments, finally saying something when it felt unbearable, "Take a picture. It might last longer."

I waited for him to be offended by my sudden remark, but he gave it right back. "I will when I get the chance. Might even wait until I catch you eating or sleeping with your mouth wide open like it was this morning. Surprised you didn't catch a fly."

"What goes around, comes around." I scoffed, glaring at him in a hateful way, but I quickly changed my attitude when I realized that he was purposely poking at me judging by that handsome smirk on his face. Those brown eyes of his were locked onto me, and I couldn't help but feel like I was embarrassed of myself. What could he be looking at with so much interest?! What is he seeing that makes his gestures soften around me?

"I'm the wrong one to engage in a prank war, love," He warned playfully, yet I didn't believe him. "Don't start a battle when you know you can't win the war."

"Yeah, you Brits said that when they tried to take over the Colonies, too. You see what happened there, huh?" I scoffed, teasing him.

"Wasn't there when that happened," He shrugged. "And before you make a joke about it, I wasn't there when the tea was dumped in the Boston Harbor, either."

"I know better than to joke about tea with a British man."

"I'm so glad you have common sense." He smirked.

"Surprised you know what that is, because it's mainly us women that have common sense."

He shrugged, "You'd be surprised. Met a lot of women that didn't have a thought behind those eyes of theirs. A good portion were military women, too."

"Must've been recruits, then."

"None of them were."

"Mhm."

"What's with the cold shoulder all of a sudden?" He chuckled at me.

"Just because my shoulders are cold, doesn't mean I'm giving you a cold shoulder, Simon."

"Can't handle a little playful banter, love? Thought you were tougher than that."

"I don't think you can handle a little playful banter."

"Sure, I can."

"Really? Because you could've killed me with that glare as soon as I said a joke about tea."

"I don't recall that. You're the one who got hostile, love." He teased.

"Just like you Brits, rewriting history." I rolled my eyes at him, watching him click his tongue against the roof of his mouth.

"Don't make me get my musket."

I laughed, "I've seen you shoot – I'm not scared of that."

"I've seen you shoot, too. Alejandro was right when he said you're one he worries about a lot because you get shot at more often."

"I can't fucking stand you!" I laughed with him.

"You can't. That's why you're sitting down, love. Keep running that bass mouth of yours, yeah?"

"I'll go and jump in the lake with my bass mouth, then."

"I wouldn't advise that, love. It's too cold for that. Wait until summer before you do that."

"I just might."

"Don't jump in, though. Might hurt your leg again."

I scoffed and shook my head, the pair of us sharing a laugh.

That was a start... 

[spicelold]

FED-CHAN BOARD ^_^

[mech4n15m]

You can do, og makarov x oc?

partners in creating dubious organizations🤝

[callsign-valkyrie]

𖠰 ⋆.˚ Searching for Black Ops discord servers! ⋆.˚ ོ

Hey guys! I've been a Black Ops fan for a good while now, but I'm sorta new to actually having an active presence inside the community. Are there any social spaces we congregate in, such as Discord servers? I want to mingle with other folks in the fandom! :D Feel free to DM me, or reply below! <3 UPDATE: I made a server! Here is the link!

[blu3-ja3]

O'Connor hates the summer, with a passion. Like she understands the appeal for everyone else but for it's hell. During the day it's hot as hell, which means she can't reasonably wear her turtle necks and long sleeves. That doesn't stop her but it doesn't mean she enjoys dying in the heat.

And all the fire, constantly everyone is having barbecues and bond fires. Every night it's the same thing and while she'll never admit it out loud, O'Connor is scared of fire. It's obvious when you see her near an open flame, it's carved into her very being. The way she's tensed when someone walks too close to the flame, how she jumps when a log snaps in the fire.

She's never around when the fire is first being lit. And she refuses to help keep the fire stoked and going, more often than not letting it burn out.

Just thinking about how my character would react to her trauma and how it'd affect her! ANYWAYS

COD Master List

[faepanic]

She's not coming back...

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[la-petite-lapin]

Double the Love | Part Five

Double the Love masterlist

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Johnny "Soap" MacTavish x female civilian!OC Word Count: 2.5k Series warnings (may change between chapters): 18+ Minors DNI, angst, mentions of death, mentions of violence, injury description, eventual explicit sexual content, polyamory, M/M/F, FMC is bad at feelings, miscommunication, Ghostie is home

The apartment walls are thin

Last night, I dreamt about sleeping with them.

It's not even the first time I've dreamt about sex with Johnny and Ghost. Of seeing Ghost's face unimpeded by masks or shadows. Of hearing up-close the throaty groans that Ghost draws out of Johnny nightly. And, if anything, it's only worsened by the moans that drift from their room down the hall in the night-time hours.

"Well that's not very good," Winnie clarifies, stating the obvious as usual, voice filling the room. Usually, I'd call her with my airpods in, but Ghost is in Russia, and Johnny is at a check-up for his stitches. Which means that I can rant to my best friend and seek advice on this incredibly fucked up situation. "Jesus, Tali."

I roll my eyes even though she can't see me. "Yeah, no shit."

"Hey, don't take your frustration out on me. I don't want to fuck them; that's all you." There's a beat of silence before, "Right, I have questions."

"Don't we all," I say exasperated, my head falling back onto my pillow with a muted thud.

Winnie clears her throat. "Well... are they gay? Or are they bi?"

"I don't know. Haven't asked."

"Okay. Have they been flirting with you or anything?"

"I don't know."

Winnie exhales a heavy sigh. "Explain."

It's hard to explain. The possibility is in the subtle things; the casual brushes against me as they walk past, the unnecessarily prolonged eye contact, the inside jokes. But it's never overt. Everything is just a little on the far side of friendly, but not so far as to be awkward or out of line.

"Johnny's started napping on the sofa with his head in my lap. And sometimes he rubs my shoulders while we watch TV." I think back to what happened three nights ago, just before Ghost left for Russia with John and Gaz. "And then the other night I was doing the dishes. Johnny started drying them like he normally does, but... Ghost came in too."

There's an almost comically long pause on Winnie's end of the line. "Then what happened?"

"He started talking but I didn't know he was there. I dropped the knife I was holding and when I tried to grab it, I sliced my hand open. Ghost patched me up."

I think back to it. Ghost was attentive and diligent as he sterilised the wound with some alcohol wipes from their first aid kit, pulling the raw edges of my skin closed with butterfly stitches. The entire time, his touches were gentle and caring, his free hand running soft, gentle lines along the back of my injured palm with his index finger.

It reminded me of the thing he does to soothe Johnny sometimes. The casual intimacy of it.

"Tali," Winnie says, her tone an admonishing one, "what have I told you about those bloody knives? You need to be careful with them." She sucks in a breath. "But I am surprised. If anything, I'd have thought that would Johnny patching you up."

"Exactly." A spark of something flares deep within my chest. "Ghost isn't a tactile person at all. Johnny tried to help but Ghost wouldn't let him near me. Said he wanted to do it himself. And he called me love."

Winnie makes a noise akin to a purr. "Oh dear. I mean, if it helps, I'm picking up on some vibes here too. Is it worth just asking them where you stand?"

Before I can open my mouth to answer, the front door opens and a cheerful "honey, I'm home!" rings out through the apartment. Hurriedly, I take the phone off speaker and press it against my ear. "Johnny's back."

"I figured," she giggles.

"Can I call you back later?"

We say our goodbyes, with Winnie agreeing to call me in the evening once she's had her dinner. With the call ended, I hop off of my bed and pad out into the hallway.

Johnny is standing in the living room with shopping bags hanging from both hands. There's a beaming grin on his face, his eyes shining. "I hope ye did'nae mind. I did some shopping for us."

I rush over to take the bags from him and place them down on the counter. "Thanks, Johnny. How was the appointment?"

"It went well." He follows me into the kitchen, taking up a large amount of space with his muscular build. "I'm even better for seeing ye though, bonnie."

Heat rises to my face as he takes my injured hand in his, folding his fingers around my wrist loosely and guiding my palm into his line of sight. With a feather-light touch, he runs a single fingertip along my butterfly stitches, checking on Ghost's handiwork. Then - as if satisfied that they're holding up - he drops my hand and moves past me, his front pressing against my back for a brief breath-stealing moment, as he starts to put the groceries away.

Bonnie. That's a new one.

"Want me to cook tea tonight?" Johnny asks, moving around the space with a certainty that is so unbelievably attractive to me. He's only been living here for a week now, but he's already settled in. He knows where everything is and just how I like the kitchen arranged. It's like he's always been here.

"You don't have to." I hop up to perch on the countertop, resigning myself to the fact that he's unpacking and putting the shopping away. A few days ago, I might have tried to argue with him or step in and take over. Now, I just sit back and watch, keeping him company. "Heard anything from Ghost yet?"

Johnny nods his head, slotting the milk into the fridge. "They're coming back from Russia tonight. Probably won't be home for a couple more days though; they've got someone to interrogate at the base."

I'm so distracted by the fact that he just referred to the apartment as home that I almost miss the mention of an interrogation. I wilfully choose to ignore it; to not let my mind linger on the darker side of Ghost that he will undoubtedly be unleashing.

I'm still distracted when Johnny starts to walk towards me again, a bag of pasta in his hand. If he follows my system, it should go in the cabinet above my head. As he inches closer to me, I can see the cogs turning behind his opalescent blue eyes. I know I should move out of the way; to the side or off of the counter altogether to move myself out of his path. But I don't. And he doesn't say anything either, slotting himself firmly between my spread thighs as he opens the cabinet.

I can feel the sheer heat radiating off of his huge, muscular body. Can smell the heady, woody, and floral scent of his aftershave. The strong column of his throat is just inches away from my lips, and - up close - I can see the generous dusting of dark hair that decorates his chest and abs underneath the thin white fabric of his vest.

Instinctively, my hand rises up to rest against his abdomen, making sure to fall on his uninjured side.

"Tali," the word is mumbled, verging on breathless.

My eyes dart up to find him staring down at me. Even seated on the counter, he's taller than me, and I can't help but find the size difference unfairly hot. It makes me think about Ghost; the fact that he's even bigger. A shiver runs through me at the thought of both of them standing here, crowding me in...

Johnny's gaze is heated - something intense shining under the surface of those sweet baby blues - as he hooks a single index finger under my chin. "What's gotten into you, lassie?"

My breath catches in my throat. For a second, I question if I'm doing the right thing.

The finger leaves my chin and I'm rewarded with a gentle squeeze just above my knee. "I asked ye a question."

"I... I-" I stumble over my words like an idiot. "You've been flirting with me." The way my tone pitches up at the end makes it sound more like a question than a statement.

Johnny chuckles, eyes sparkling with humour. "Ye don't sound so sure, lovey."

I wince. My muscles tense as I pull back slightly, leaning back on my hands. "You're in a relationship with Ghost."

"Very observant of ye." He closes the cabinet with his free hand, then runs his thumb along the curve of my cheekbone, the other hand shifting slightly higher on my thigh. "I am. But I've seen the way you look at us, Tali. And I've heard ye at night." His hand brushes the very top of my thigh and my breath catches once again. His eyes darken. "The walls in this apartment are pretty thin."

All moisture leaves my mouth. Oh brilliant. Johnny, and possibly Ghost, have heard me touching myself at night. I don't know whether to feel embarrassed or turned on. And then there's the way Johnny says it; so casually - so easily - like it doesn't bother him in the slightest. Like it would be unusual if I wasn't masturbating with them just down the hall.

"Does... does Ghost know?" is the only thing I can think to ask.

Johnny grins. "Aye, he does." We're both leaning closer and closer to each other again, until I can practically feel the warmth of his mint-scented breath against my skin. "He thinks it's cute."

Cute. Like a puppy or a kitten. Something adorable.

Not sexy or hot. Adorable.

Embarrassment hits me, jagged and icy, flooding through my veins. And suddenly I feel so. Fucking. Stupid.

I'm not some kind of femme fatale - not the kind of woman who can pursue one man, let alone two.

What did I expect? For Johnny to confess that they, too, have been thinking about me in less than appropriate ways and then what? There's no happy ending for me lusting after Johnny and Ghost in their committed, serious relationship - I knew that from the first night I dreamt about them. And I was mad for even thinking that maybe - just maybe - they could have been looking at me like that too.

No; they go out into parts of the world that people like me rarely ever see, putting their lives on the line to save the world. They don't want to fuck an interior designer with commitment issues, and deep-rooted family trauma.

"Okay, cool," I mumble under my breath, eyes focused on a spot on the tiled floor. I move my hand away from his side, gently pushing him away as I do so.

With a frown, he takes a step back. He looks almost hurt.

I hop down from the countertop and fold my arms across my chest, stepping back in the direction of the hallway. "I'll, um... I'll try to keep the noise down. I- I'm sorry for being a nuisance."

Johnny's face falls. "No, lassie- that..."

I'm already out of the kitchen before I can hear the rest, spinning on my heel and taking off in a brisk walk until I get to my room. With the door firmly closed, I pull my phone out of my pocket and fire off a quick text to Winnie.

TALIA KELLER: They don't feel the same.

She's online in half a heartbeat.

WINSLOW SLOANE: Wait WINSLOW SLOANE: What happened? TALIA KELLER: Was helping Johnny put the food shopping away. He told me that him and Ghost can hear me in my room at night and that Ghost thinks it's "cute". TALIA KELLER: It was so fucking mortifying. WINSLOW SLOANE: Oh Tali :( WINSLOW SLOANE: Context is key, baby. Maybe cute is a good thing. Does Ghost strike you as a man who thinks that many things are cute?

I tip my head back. No matter the positive spin that Winnie wants to try and put on this, I'm still not seeing it.

So, I lie in bed, staring at the ceiling, feeling icky and embarrassed. And wondering how Winnie would feel about sound-proofing the entire apartment.

I'm out for a walk when Ghost comes home.

When I get in, his massive combat boots are tucked in neatly next to the door. I don't immediately see him, or Johnny for that matter, and it's something that sends an unexpected spike of disappointment through me. Which makes me frown because this isn't me. I don't get like this with people - not even Winnie. I avoid commitment and co-dependency at all costs because I know that one day it will come back to bite me.

I think about how I used to wait for Alex to come home, practically counting down the minutes, waiting by the door for his return. I think about how I watch Marcella do the same, and now Johnny. And it's the antithesis of the life I've resolved myself to: complete independence.

I follow the sound of their voices into the kitchen, watching the domestic scene playing out before me. Johnny is pouring sparkling water into two glasses for them while Ghost stands back, his face hidden behind a black balaclava with a white skull painted across the front. Common sense dictates that it's something that should probably scare me. It doesn't.

He dips his head in acknowledgement, and I meet it with my own awkward nod.

"Tali," Ghost's voice is as gruff as ever. The mask shifts and, in the shadows cast by the overhead lights, I can make out a hint of a smile playing on his face underneath the masks. "How've you been?"

"I've been okay. How was Russia?"

"How's your hand?" He completely bypasses my question, as if I never even spoke.

For a moment, I just stare at them, waiting for Ghost to answer me first. When it becomes clear that isn't going to happen, I say, "It's okay. Hasn't fallen off yet, anyway."

Johnny lets out a snort of laughter. "Someone's in a sarcastic mood. Good thing Ghostie is home, aye?"

A beat of silence passes, his words hanging in the air between us.

"So, how was Russia?" I repeat, cocking my head to one side.

Ghost lets out a weary sigh, bracing his hands on the counter, shoulder's width apart. Out of the corner of my eye, I swear I can see Johnny's body tensing up. "It was interesting. We didn't find what we thought we'd find. That's all I can say. Rest is classified." It's a lot more than I was expecting anyway, and probably the most forthcoming he's been with me since the day they moved in. "But I will say that I missed you lot. Both of you."

"You don't have to include me out of pity," I snap impulsively. It's so obvious to me that Johnny's told him what happened that night in the kitchen. For reasons I can't fully articulate, it makes me angry.

Ghost's eyes darken at that, and suddenly I can see what those men in Russia must have seen; a huge, pissed-off man, clad in a skull mask and all black clothes. A man you probably shouldn't be riling up knowingly.

It sends a thrill down my spine and my palms start to sweat.

"Don't start, love," he growls, "I'm not in the mood tonight."

I stutter and stumble over a comeback, but it dies in my throat when Ghost crosses the apartment, leaving an amused-looking Johnny standing halfway between the kitchen and the living room.

"Yeah, Johnny's told me all about the shit you've been giving him while I've been gone. Avoiding him and not answering when he tries to check on you." He comes to a complete stop in front of me, towering over my much smaller frame and levelling me with a serious look. It doesn't escape my attention that he must be over six-and-a-half feet tall and verging on two-hundred pounds of pure, solid muscle. "Misbehaving for him." A single, large paw of a hand comes up to brush over my shoulder, skimming up to rest lightly on my throat. There's no grip there though; it's a hold so gentle that I could break it just by stepping back. "That ends now, princess."

I will myself to come to my senses, but I can't. Instead, I stand there, doe-eyed with parted lips, gazing up at the huge, strong soldier disciplining me. My body is trembling like a leaf in the wind and I'm wet - unignorably so.

I wonder if he knows.

His answering smirk tells me that he probably does, and there's a new lustful darkness in his tone as he adds, "Because I think we all need to sit down and have a talk, yeah?"

a/n: hey guys! sorry that this one took so long hope you enjoy this part. things are starting to heat up ;) - take care y'all, lapetitelapin

[league-of-sam]

Don't Be Shy | Konig x Reader

Kӧnig x TF141 x AFAB!Reader

PART ONE

Summary: Transferred against your will to a new task force to calm a troubled soldier, you felt way in over your head - especially when you came face to face with a 6'10" mountain of Austria. 18+ MINORS DNI! t.w // angst, mental health, language, violence, human trafficking, death, sexual themes/SMUT, military inaccuracies, language inaccuracies (google translate).

2 / 3 / 4 / 5

You'd been the new kid on the block, over and over again.

Late to training, late into the 141, and now, late into Task Force KorTac with a very special, and very specific mission.

A mission that was built for you.

A mission that required the utmost professionalism.

A mission that required somehow pulling a 6’10” brick shithouse out of his own head and into a team - but you didn’t know that, yet.

Oh, and fuck, did you protest it. Over and over and over again. It had taken you months to settle with the 141 boys, and now you were being shipped off, away from your family.

“You’re really good at that, uh, the empathy shit.” Price had said, placing a warming hand on your shoulder.

“I’m a soldier, Price. And you know how much I struggle around new people.” You spoke, the latter half of the sentence said in a hushed tone.

“Yes, but you’re good at, ya know, feeling." He replied, fingers lifted to place air quotes around the word, "You got Ghost to come out of his shell!”

At that moment, your lieutenant entered the room, making his way over at the mention of his callsign.

You rolled your eyes, “Okay, so send him! Lord knows he needs the practise.”

“Watch ya mouth, little one.” Ghost said, stepping next to you.

“Just because you’re a foot taller than me does not mean you get to bully me for it, Simon.”

Despite what people thought about the giant, skull-mask-wearing man, he was soft and caring; the relationship you had built together was that of siblings, and he had your back more than any ordinary brother would.

Ghost’s eyes were dark under his mask, but you knew he was smirking, “Not my fault you’re a short arse.”

“Yet I’m still a better sniper than you.”

“No, you bloody well aren’t-”

“Children! Please…” Price interrupted the sibling-like bickering; fingers pinched on the bridge of his nose. “If we could focus on the task at hand?”

Ghost poked your side, mumbling, “Yeah, (Y/L/N), focus on your task.”

“Go have Soap suck your dick some more, sounds like you need to relax.” You mumbled back.

Your retort had Ghost choking, the sharp intake of air he made as his head whipped to look at you causing him to cough relentlessly. Price shook his head, waving him off to sort himself out.

It wasn’t exactly a secret within the team that there was something a little less savoury going on with your lieutenant and Sergeant MacTavish, especially when the latter would constantly confide in you about his crush.

Especially, after what had happened with Hassan and the missiles.

But, thanks to your meddling, you had been able to get Ghost to open up, and it seemed like the two were much happier.

Not that you’d dare make a comment about it in front of anyone but Price and Ghost himself.

You valued your life, thank you very much.

And as much as Ghost loved you like a sister; he would absolutely kill you.

As Ghost walked away, you shot him the sweetest smile you could muster, resulting in him throwing you the finger.

“Look, you’re the only one I think can get through to him, kid. The task force needs you.” Price continued.

“I applied to be here, sir. I worked damn hard to make it onto the 141.”

He sat you down, taking your hands in his, “This isn’t permanent. I promise, we’ll be here waiting when ya get back, because I want to work with this guy. He’s bloody good, so I need you to make sure he can play well with others."

You sighed heavily, the weight of responsibility and leaving your family crushing your shoulders, "And you are my best sniper., Karma.”

Price had whispered that last part, for your ears only, a smirk across his bearded lips. You smiled widely, a giggle falling from your mouth.

It felt good to get that recognition from your superior.

He wasn’t wrong; the reason you made it onto the 141 in the first place was your incredible skill as a marksman…well, markswoman. You’d earned the call sign Karma from Soap, who watched you in a training drill he ran.

You’d been perched up high, completely hidden, and any enemy that your team missed in combat, you cleaned up, never missing a shot. Like the saying goes, if you can’t get ‘em, karma will.

It was also suitable for those who underestimated you. Every person you’d gone up against in hand-to-hand training doubted your abilities due to your smaller frame, but fuck, did you prove them wrong every time.

Broken noses here.

Fractured limbs there.

You were Karma, and no one messed with you.

“So, think you can do this for me?” Price said.

“Affirmative, sir.”

“That’s my girl.”

With that, you walked, albeit with a little sadness, back to your quarters, packing a duffle of your things. Price had said you’d only be away for a couple of months tops, depending on how the mission went.

At the car, Ghost, Soap, Gaz, and the rest of the 141 were there to say goodbye, all of them giving you a squeeze as they wrapped you in their arms.

“You be good, alright?” Ghost had whispered in your ear, “See you when ya come home.”

“It almost sounds like you’re gonna miss me, Lt.” You quipped, and he rolled his eyes.

“I’m sure you’d like to believe that.”

“He’ll miss ye, bonnie.” Soap cut in, lifting you off the ground, “As will I. Don’t forget me in the excitement of the big bad KorTac boys, will ya?”

“I could never, Soap. You’re my number one!”

With one final wave and various counts of love you’s, you were stuffed into the car with Price and Laswell, the two of them escorting you personally.

Your heart hung low as your team got smaller and smaller behind you, but you were honoured to have been sought out by another team.

KorTac.

Didn’t quite have the same ring to it as 141, but it’d do.

The journey was short from the training camp in London, as you were dropped off at Heathrow, where a private chopper awaited you. From there, you were shipped off to a covert facility in the mountains of Hungary.

The scenery was beautiful, but your nerves bubbled up inside you.

With a silent nudge from the pilot, you were shoved out of the chopper, greeted by several members of your new team.

“Sergeant (Y/L/N), yes?” the man said, a heavy Hungarian accent lacing his words.

“Uh, yeah, that’s me. Sergeant (Y/N) (Y/L/N),” You stuck your hand out, “But you can call me Karma, whatever suits.”

“Fender.” the man said, shaking your hand, “I run things here at KorTac. This is my second in command, Roze.”

A woman stepped forward from behind him, also taking your hand in hers, “We’re honoured to have you here, Karma. Heard a lot about you.”

“Well, I’m honoured that you guys wanted me.”

The pleasantries continued until you were being guided to their facilities, being allowed to drop off your bags before rushing to the tactical room, where the rest of the team was waiting for your arrival.

You were introduced swiftly, barely remembering anyone’s names before you were guided once again to another place, ending up in Fender’s office. He offered you a seat, sitting opposite at his desk.

“So, what exactly did Captain Price tell you of your purpose here?”

“Not a lot, really. He mentioned that I was needed because you have a soldier here that needs…help? And that there was a mission coming that required my particular skill.”

“Ahh, yes. That would be Kӧnig…” he sighed, pulling out a file and dropping it in front of you.

You opened the file, to find a picture of a man, a sniper hood that you recognised adorning his face. Scanning the information, you found that he was Austrian, joining the task force here through the KSK, basically being used as a front man for the teams on-ground.

“Kӧnig has…issues. He came here wanting to be a sniper, but, as you’ll see when you meet him, his physical attributes do not allow it. He didn’t take that well, but he excels as part of the contact team.”

“So, what exactly is the problem?”

Fender sighed, leaning forward in his chair, “He seems to have some problems with anxiety. I was informed that you used to suffer with such issues but were able to overcome them.”

You scoffed a little, “So, I’m here to be a glorified babysitter?”

You felt bad for this Kӧnig.

You couldn’t imagine wanting nothing more than to be a sniper and then have it taken away from you because of your physicality.

That would fucking suck.

“We just need someone to calm him, teach him control. A lot of the other team members are so scared of him they can barely stand being in the same room.”

“Arseholes…” you whispered under your breath, “That’s hardly fair, sir. By the looks of things, he is an essential member of this team.”

“That maybe so, but I can’t have my soldiers acting that way off the field. Unfortunately, if you cannot help him, he will no longer be welcome on any task force.”

You shook your head in disbelief.

How fucking unfair.

Before you could say anything, the office door opened. You stood to greet Roze but gasped slightly at the giant shadow behind her.

Stood in front of you, was a complete mountain of a man.

He had to duck down considerably to make it through the doorframe. Every single inch of him was huge. Ghost used to make you feel intimidated and tiny, but this…this was fucking ridiculous. Kӧnig had to have been at least 6’10”, and the size of his muscles would put both Ghost and Soap to shame.

Truly, this was a big, big man.

Oh, you thought, the sniper hood stayed on?

“Ah, Kӧnig, there you are. Thank you, Roze, you may go.”

“Sir.” She nodded, smiling to you before leaving the room and shutting it behind her.

“You wanted to see me, sir?” Kӧnig spoke, barely sparing you a glance as he addressed his superior. A thick accent tainted his English, but he was well-spoken.

Fender stood, moving around the desk to the two of you, “Yes. This is Karma, she’s the new addition to the team, and will be your new…partner, as such.”

“Uh, p-partner, sir?”

Fender nodded.

“Hi.” You spoke, a soft smile on your features as you stuck out your hand for him to shake. “I’m (Y/N) (Y/L/N), but you can call me (Y/N/N), or Karma, whatever you like really.”

Your hands shook from nervousness as you rambled on.

New people always made you anxious, but this…this was intense.

Was it the accent?

The sheer size of him?

You couldn’t tell if you were intimidated, anxious, or frankly, maybe even a little turned on.

“Kӧnig.” He grunted but refused to meet your hand.

It hung in the air for an embarrassing amount of time, causing you to clear your throat as you lowered it, heat rising to your cheeks.

Yeah, this guy’s people skills were shite.

“Uh, right. Pleasure to meet you.” You finally said in an effort to shake off the awkwardness.

With that, Fender led the two of you back out, and towards the training centre. As you passed various soldiers, many of them looked to you, whispering.

By now, stares and such were just water off a duck’s back for you. Being part of the infamous 141 always brought a lot of unwanted attention. But that didn’t mean it didn’t make you uncomfortable, nonetheless.

Kӧnig, on the other hand, walked slightly behind you and Fender, his eyes not leaving the back of your body. He was used to the stares and whispers, the team never failing to make him feel like a freak of nature on the daily.

But he didn’t care at this moment.

He was fascinated by you.

The bright pink slivers of colour that peaked out from beneath the rest of your hair intrigued him; he was sure that went against regulation. You were also so sweet and tiny, the sniper rifle strapped to your back was almost as big as you were.

So, you were a sniper.

Why the fuck would Fender pair him with a sniper? Like he didn’t get mocked enough!

And now here you were, walking around with your head held high, like you fucking owned the place.

His own personal fucking babysitter.

The more he looked at you, the more his heart filled with rage, gloved fists balling at his sides.

[zghost333]

It happens 🤷

[feralycan]

BIOGRAPHICAL INFORMATION.

name: "Lycan"

nicknames: ذئب (by Farah Karim); Perra (by Valeria Garza).

species: lycanthrope.

rank: sergeant.

age: thirty.

occupation: SOF (Special Operations Force) K-9 OPERATOR / MPC (Multi-Purpose Canine) and CAD (Combat Assault Dog) OPERATOR.

build: tall (180cm) and toned.

eyes: amber (orange/yellow) eyes.

hair: long brown hair.

faceclaim: Lara Croft.

! To get to know her better.