#cod x f!reader

[ryuzakemo128]

The Carina's Heart Galaxy

Chapter Two: What The Fuck?

Pairing: Poly!141 x Female Reader/ You

Content Warning: Sex doll mention, female reader is slight unhinged (Soap's Opinion), Female reader loves explosives (Much to soaps fear and delight imo), possible swearing and cussing?. If I missed something let me know.

Words: 1602

Dividers Credit: @cafekitsune + @strangergraphics

Masterlist

Summary: Who knew I’d meet you again so soon?

Who knew I’d meet you again so soon? Here I thought my day couldn’t get any weirder. I spoke to you last night and now I’m speaking to you again. Except this time, you’re in your space themed pyjamas, galaxy socks with cats prints, shark shaped slippers and a shark beanie. Kate said she was important, or rather her brain is. I didn’t know why until I saw you midway through your laser gun experiment round.

The charcoal grey brunch coat hanging on for dear life on your shoulders while your giant full ball of a cat watched with disdain of the noise you were making. The pink collar with the rose gold name tag with Mr. Whiskers in cursive engraved into the metal tag. The regal behaviour from a cat large enough to be the side of a medium sized dog remained palpable.

“Hey! You. You’re the guy I was talking to yesterday. Or am I just imagining things?” you remarked. “I forgot to ask how you liked dessert last night. The chocolate fudge I mean.”

I couldn’t help but chuckle at your question and the amount of high energy you managed to summon at the sight of me, “It was rather sweet and salty. Though I am surprised you remember that.”

You looked at me with puzzlement, “Why wouldn’t I remember? That was a pretty intense chat we had last night. Besides sea salted caramel fudge is the best kind of fudge.”

Soap raised an eyebrow at the mention of your favourite type of fudge, a smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. “Sea salted caramel, you say? That’s quite the taste you’ve got there, Doc.”

“Specific, but the diner I usually go to at night sometimes. They make the best kind.” You commented. “Sure, the whole diner is a little suspect on the outside. But man, the fudge is the best.”

Gaz nodded, his eyes lighting up with the same enthusiasm. “I know the one. They’ve got a secret recipe. The owner is an ex-navy chef. He’s got a taste for the sweet and salty combination.”

“Yeah. Not too far off from my father’s taste for dipped buttered toast with his porridge.” You quipped with a smirk.

Gaz looked to be reeling in from the conversation we had last night after I returned to the safe house. Whistling an upbeat tune, it took him by surprise, in fact it took them all by surprise. He never whistled like that. Ever.

“What’s got you so chipper?” Soap asked, his eyes looking at me with suspicion.

Ghost looked at me with equal amount of suspicion, he also questioned, “What has you in such a good mood?”

I smirked from ear to ear, feeling the energy in the room shift slightly. You had a certain charm about you that was infectious, even if you didn’t realize it. The way you spoke about your love for science and the mundane yet delightful things in life was refreshing. It was as if you didn’t have a care in the world, despite the chaos that probably swirled in your mind with your job.

“I met someone at the diner.” I told them. It did nothing to ease their suspicions. “Ah, you should have seen her. Beautiful in her midnight blue dress with silver stars.”

“Talking my ear off about quantum entanglement and how she doesn’t believe ‘fate’ exists.” I continued after a breathy pause. “And her car? A gorgeous vintage.”

“The biggest, largest bonus of the entire night? She grabbed my hand, wrote her number with a pink sharpie and bought me dessert before she left.” I was rambling. I knew that. But how could I not? How could I not ramble about the woman that made a lasting impression on me?

You probably could kick my arse, and I’d thank you for it afterwards. A strong woman like you? Rare. A strong and smart woman like you? Even rarer.

It was when they saw you disintegrate a soda can in your pyjamas while your cat looked on with disinterest. Soap saw you shoot the thing in your makeshift shooting range with your makeshift targets made from a stack of empty soda cans. He only found you there after hearing the evil cackle you made from behind the brick fence.

Things started making far more sense after seeing you in person finally. Though the amount of sense wasn’t all that much. The level of unhinged is only amplified by the fact that you couldn’t be bothered to change out of your pyjamas first.

Soap recognised you from an explosive drill you did to ‘get a better handle on things’. He was far too scared to ask what you meant at the time. The grenade you altered and wanted to test out? How you said it was meant to replicate the effects of outer space in a compact form.

You are a contradiction of sorts. A living, breathing contradiction, paradox and conundrum altogether. “How did you like that grenade I made?” you asked Soap. “I have made a few upgrades since the last version. I can’t wait to show you the progress I made.”

You brought them up on the digital whiteboard on the wall of your lab. The upgrades were: sticky grip, vanta black coating, heavily reduction in shrapnel, a more concentrated burst of energy, the ability to create a small vacuum around it and, my personal favourite, a self-destruct mechanism that would make Q proud.

Soap looked at you with a mix of awe and fear. “Jesus, Doc. That's... That's some serious shit you're playing with here. How the hell do you even come up with these ideas?”

"Regular grenades, grenade launchers, they're all so... pedestrian." You say with a dismissive wave of your hand, a hint of mischief glinting in your eyes. "But a grenade that can stick to surfaces, reduce collateral damage, and create a temporary vacuum? That's a game-changer. It's like bringing a piece of the cosmos into combat."

The room falls silent for a moment, the weight of your words hanging in the air like the aftermath of a supernova. Then, Soap laughs, a boisterous sound that fills the lab. "You're insane, Doc, you know that? In the best possible way." He says, clapping his hands together with the kind of excitement that only a seasoned soldier could muster for something so potentially destructive.

"I named it after the Fibonacci sequence." you told him.

Soap looked at you with bewilderment. "The Fibonacci sequence? As in, the mathematical sequence that appears in nature?"

"Yes. That one." you were buzzing with so much excitement.

Soap nodded slowly, a smirk playing on his lips. "Alright, Doc. You've officially out-nerded us all. A grenade named after a maths sequence that's supposed to replicate space?"

“Just wait till you see my gaming set up.” You stated. Hinting at one of your hobbies you have.

You showed off your gaming set up in the room beside your lab. The framed posters of movies you enjoyed on the walls. The mouse pad with the Doom Slayer on it and your computer had a Lady Maria from bloodborne animated wallpaper on all three of your computer monitors.

The life-sized statue of The Master Chief from the Halo game series. The rug with the Millennium Falcon printed onto it. Though the sex doll you had in the other corner of the room was rather specific, with the j-cup sized breasts, blonde hair, height of 5 foot 3 and brown eyes.

“Is that...?” Soap’s eyes widened, pointing to the doll.

"A sex doll? Yes." you answered.

Soap looked at the doll again, his expression unreadable. "What's the story behind that?"

"Apart from the outfits I put on her to see if it'll look any good on my own figure?" you asked.

Soap’s face was a picture, a mix of shock and confusion. “You dress her up?”

"Did you expect me to leave her naked?" you questioned.

Ghost smothered a laugh with his hand while Gaz's eyes darted around the room, looking everywhere except at the doll. Soap was the only one who remained unfazed, his gaze lingering on the doll with a sort of detached curiosity.

"Truth be told, I'm surprised you even spotted it." you snickered.

Soap’s curiosity grew, “How’d you get into gaming?”

"Older brother." you answered.

Soap raised an eyebrow, "He sounds like quite the character."

"Yeah, but he wasn't into hentai like I am so there." you quipped.

Soap and Gaz exchanged a look, clearly surprised by your candidness. Ghost remained stoic, his gaze lingering on the doll with an unreadable expression. You didn't miss the glances, but you were used to people's reactions to your unconventional hobbies. You shrugged it off, moving over to your computer.

"You guys play games?" you asked, changing the subject. The room felt awkwardly silent, but you didn't mind. It was your space, your sanctuary, and you felt comfortable with your newfound guests.

"Yeah, we've got our fair share of downtime." Soap admitted, "What's your go-to?"

"Bloodborne, Elden Ring, Doom 2016, Doom Eternal, Halo Reach, and, The Evil Within 2." You replied without a moment's hesitation.

I didn't think I would have liked her this much. Though to be fair I wasn't expecting to bump into her to begin with. Sure, you weren’t what I imagined you to be. But I like it better this way. Soap and Ghost assumed you were socially inept as soon as I told them you were a scientist.

I’m just glad I finally met someone with the right kind of madness inside them.

[ebodebo]

Hot For Teacher!

—professor!simon riley teaching anatomy… MDNI

(DISCLAIMER: in this fic, the reader is getting their master's, so reader is an adult! that said, this is still a student-professor relationship, so beware!)

"I heard he was from Germany….or somewhere."

"He's probably sooo old."

"I can't find his rate my professor anywhere!"

"I heard he only has one leg!"

Murmurs can be heard spread around the room; your fellow graduates flooded the lecture hall seats, not an empty seat out of fifty in site. They were itching with anticipation and anxiously awaiting the arrival of your new gross anatomy professor, including yourself.

You were even more nervous than when you had to present your senior thesis for your bachelor's to four of the most knowledgeable, bright minds you had ever come into contact with.

That was intimidating, but this somehow feels worse. You find yourself sinking into the squeaky plastic chair, praying that whoever walks through that door is as gracious and kind as your last professor.

Heavy steps echoed down the hallway, slowly and steadily etching closer and closer to the room you sat in. Your eyes nervously shifted up to look at the wide open front door, and you tapped your foot, restlessly, to a non-existent beat in your head.

The footsteps became louder and louder until the man finally stood in the doorway, sparing the class not even a singular glance. He steadily turned to the right and walked up to the chalkboard, back towards the class, carefully etching something onto the board with a small piece of chalk.

The murmurs around the room seized as the screeching noise of the chalk against the board bounced off the walls and went straight into everyone's eardrums.

It was a quick, illegible scribble.

He set the piece of chalk down and turned to face the class, eyes roaming around the room, allowing you to get a better look at him.

He wore a black surgical mask just below his nose, covering his lips and jaw. And, God, was he tall. He had to be at least six-two, maybe even six-four. He wore a charcoal gray button-up tight enough to display his broad shoulders and buff biceps, with kaki cargo pants that did nothing to hide his thick thighs. 

Fuck, he was hot.

"Your last professor was quite lenient," his gravelly voice echoes around the room as he begins, leaning his hip on the table before him. "Don't expect that from me."

His eyes roamed some more, and the murmurs you heard about how hot he was seized as he spoke again. "If you think this class will be easy, you're sorely mistaken. Excellence is the bare minimum I expect from each of you," he sternly says. "I don't tolerate excuses. You're in the wrong place if you can't meet the deadlines."

You didn't know the first time meeting your professor would just end up with him lecturing you about his obscure conditions and rules like this was a damn military base.

You try to remember if this course was even required for your degree: it is.

"If you miss class, don't bother returning," he continues. The mood in the room had shifted entirely. There was no excitement left; it had been completely sucked out and replaced by regret and anguish. You swore you even saw some people with their computers quickly going to your university's directory, hoping they could still withdraw from a course.

"Lastly, mediocrity has no place in here. Push yourselves or find another course," he gruffed, pushing himself off the desk he leaned on and maneuvering back over to the chalkboard.

"What are the instructions on the board?" Your eyes snapped to a random girl raising her hand adjacent to you, and you were surprised by her bravery in speaking.

The professor glanced at the girl.

“Ah, yes. These are instructions on how to withdraw from this course if you so choose," he said. "Save me the headache and you, your dignity, and withdraw now if you cannot abide by my terms," he almost seemed disinterested. "Also, you will call me Dr. Riley."

He picked up the chalk, quickly etching a strand of words onto it. "These are my office hours," he says, setting the chalk back down. "Any questions?" He asked, turning to face the class.

Not a single peep can be heard. There was only a tiny squeak from one of the chairs. He crosses his arms. "Alright. Quiz tomorrow. Class dismissed," he concludes. You freeze up in your chair as everyone around you starts moving as quickly as possible to get out of there.

You're wondering what you learned today that could be material for a quiz. Instead of waiting behind to ask, you shuffle your things in a bag and speed walk out of there.

This was going to be a long semester.

It was three months in, and this class was kicking your ass. 

No, that's not right. The class was outwardly blistering your entire existence. You pulled countless all-nighters to try and keep up with the material, but it was too much. There weren't enough hours in the day to study the copious amount of material.

It didn't help that Dr. Riley was a bit of a dick. He gave no leniency. Can't make the exam? Too bad. F. Didn't make class? Yikes. Get ready to recite the last lecture in front of the class when you return! Can't answer a question he asks? Well, well, it looks like we have a slacker on our hands. Have a lovely time writing an entire essay on the topic question you failed to answer!

"Can anyone explain the process of bone repair following a fracture?" Dr. Riley questions, taking his eyes off the chalkboard and turning towards the now half-full class. You snap out of your daydream, carefully looking back to your computer to continue typing what he writes.

Everyone averts their eyes from him to avoid getting called on. "No takers?" He asks once more, eyes narrowing slightly. You look over the top of your computer, eyes wondering over the messy array of notes he wrote to try and decipher them. "You," he says, flicking a finger towards you. "Give it a go."

Your eyes flick to his before widening in horror. Shit. You hadn't even gone over this week's slides because you were still working on the hundreds of slides from last week. 

"Preferably today," he raises a brow, impatience written all over his face, crossing his arm over his chest. You take a deep breath, quickly scan your notes, and sublimely thank God you found what you needed.

"Well, first the bone goes through clot formation, then callus formation, then new bone tissue forms, then finally the bone remodels," you explain, issuing a polite smile after you finish, breathing out a sigh of relief as he nods.

"Uh-huh. It's a very interesting process. And do you know which of those processes has the longest duration?" He says blandly. You tilt your head a little, surprised to see he has another question.

"Well, I think that would be the bone remodeling," you affirm, shifting in your seat a little.

"And the shortest?" He quickly supplements. 

"Clot formation?" You say unsurely. 

"You seem unsure of your answer. Do you truly think it is clot formation?" He crosses his arms over his chest. 

You were sure of it, but then again, why would he ask you if you thought it was wrong if it was right? You open your eyes wider, almost like you have just had an epiphany. "I—no. It's callus formation," you say matter-of-factly.

"Incorrect," he says, uncrossing his arms and turning his back to you. "I suggest trusting your instincts next time." You sink deeper into your chair, hoping that somehow it will shield you from his scrutiny. 

"On that note, class dismissed." You quickly gather your belongings, but not before Dr. Riley pulls you aside to assign you a three-page, single-spaced essay about the formation of a bone after having a fracture due in two days.

"Also, be sure to discuss clot formation heavily," his voice carries a condescending tone. "So that when you present to the class, they understand the concept better than you did." 

Your brows furrow a little. "Wait, I do understand—" You begin, though he interrupts.

"That's all," he cooly says, turning to grab his things from the desk in the front before switching the light switch off and stepping around you to leave the room. "See you and your paper Wednesday." You scowled as he turned away from you to go to his office.

This was such bullshit. You answered all his question, but God forbid you answer one incorrectly—well, not even incorrectly; he just made you feel it was wrong.

This was far from over.

"Dr. Riley. I, um, I don't understand why I have to write an essay," you found yourself saying later that day in his office, around six p.m. or so, when most of the faculty had already called it a night and left. His eyes stayed laser-focused on some papers he was going over.

"You didn't answer my question," he says, scribbling something on the paper. 

You find yourself coming in, shutting the door behind you, and sitting on the chair before his desk. "Yes, I did. I answered all one hundred of them," you say matter-of-factly. The corners of his eyes crinkle as they finally flick to yours, clearly amused by your exaggeration. 

"One hundred, huh?" He sets the pen down, leaning back in his chair, threading his fingers together. Your eyes wander to his arms. He had rolled up his sleeves to reveal his veiny forearms covered in tattoos. 

You flick your eyes back to eyes in a panic, praying he didn't notice you essentially checking him out. "Yes, sir," you tried to keep your voice even.

"So, you want out of an essay I assigned to you? 

"I—well. I was hoping…" You trail off, eyes averting his.

"No," his tone is authoritative, final. You release a small breath, sagging into the chair, feeling defeated. However, you caught your eyes wandering back to his forearms before moving up to his biceps. Fuck. They would have busted out of his button-down if they were any bigger.

He was a massive asshole. But, so fucking hot nonetheless. Had the most enormous thighs and arms you'd ever seen. Taller than anyone you'd ever met. Had a gruff, thick English accent you drooled over. Not to mention his raging ego, which did something for you.

"What is it?" Your eyes snap to his. Oh, God. Not again. 

"Nothing," you said quickly. He looked puzzled. You sat back in the chair, smiling awkwardly. He followed, leaning back in his seat and spreading his legs wider to get more comfortable.

You find your eyes drifting down, observing his clothed cock in his pants. "Nothing? Huh?" The corner of his lip quirks. You stare back at him; your face is hot, and your hands are clammy.

This time, there was no denying what it was you were ogling so intently. 

"Listen," he sits up a bit, placing his elbows on his desk and threading his fingers together. "I sympathize with your situation." You raise a brow because there is no way in hell he was sympathetic. His lip quips at your expression. "So, I believe I have a solution to your dilemma." That has you perking up in your seat, feeling a sense of hope.

"It's a bit...unorthodox," he mumbles, eyes boring into yours.

You squint your eyes in confusion. "Okay..." You trail off uneasily, sitting up a little straighter. "What did you have in mind?" He tilts his head up a little, carefully observing your face, before standing up and gripping the knot of the tie and carefully pulling it down so it rests lazily on his sternum. 

"Tell me," he prompts, easing his way around his desk to lean against the side you sit in front of. "What is it that caught your attention earlier?" You raise a brow, not only at his new position but also at his question.

"Pardon?" You prod. He lets out a small, scruffy, breathy laugh, crossing his arms over his chest and showcasing his huge biceps again. You release a slight breath as your eyes wander back to his arms. He tilts his head back as he examines your facial expression, dragging his eyes down your line of sight. He gives a breathy laugh as he realizes you are shamelessly checking him out. 

"Mhm," he hums. You snap your eyes to him in an instant, though this time you aren't embarrassed at the notion of him catching you. No. You wanted him to notice. Maybe, just maybe, then he'd finally find the courage to fuck you over his desk like you'd wanted since the first day he had arrived. "Your mind seems elsewhere," he observes.

"No, I'm—I'm just thinking," you whir, sitting in your chair.

He tilts his head back slightly. "What about?" His tone dripped with condescendence. He most definitely knew. He could read you like one of those fancy anatomy books he frequented. You lean back in your chair, legs spreading ever so slightly. His eyes glided to leer at your slightly agape legs. 

God, you had on that little fucking skirt you wore every so often. The damned thing was a couple of pieces of denim fabric. Not too short, but, ya, if you opened your legs at just the right angle, you could get a nice shot of your panties underneath. How lucky for your professor, who was at the receiving end of that.

"Oh, I don't know. Just things, you know?" You spread your legs just a little wider, and you swear you hear him release a breath. "It's the first day of fall tomorrow. Did you know that?" You casually say, spreading your legs that much further so he could get a better view of the wet spot already growing in your panties at him watching you. 

"I did." His voice was dry; he was surprised to get a damn word out. 

"Crazy, huh? Also, I'm thinking about our lecture tomorrow. What's it going to be on anyway?" You find yourself dragging your hand up your leg to the buttons of your shirt, carefully unclasping each of them gently. He could feel his cock straining against his jeans seeing you, legs spread, fingers fiddling with your cute little button-up top with frilly sleeves.

"Sexual reproduction," he gruffs, fingers moving to undo the buttons on his shirt. You get the final button of your shirt unclasped, carefully sliding it off and onto the floor, revealing a lacy bra that matches your panties. You honestly thought you'd be more nervous, but with a guy that hot and educated staring at you like you were the sexiest thing alive, how could you be?

"Maybe I should get a head-start, no?" You proposed as he unclasped his final button, slipping his shirt entirely off. Good-God. The man was chiseled and hairy. The scars etched into his skin only made him that much sexier. He reached for his tie next. "No, no. Leave it on," you voice, getting up from your chair to stand before him. 

His greedy hands instantly sought refuge on your waist, dragging his fingertips along the waistband of your panties, giving them a little pull. You release a slight whine as the elastic slaps back onto your skin.

"Like fuckin' music to my ears," he groans, pulling you flush to his body, ripping his mask off to encapsulate your lips with his hungry ones. 

You yelp into his mouth at the sudden sensation, though you find yourself getting into a rough rhythm. His hand's paw at your ass as yours covetously grips his shoulders. Although you were flush against him, you sought more contact. "I need—I need," you whined in his mouth. 

"Need me to what? Say it," he urged, hands slipping to thread through your hair, pulling it gently. Your mouth falls agape at the action, allowing him to slip his tongue in your mouth. You moan into his mouth once more.

"I need you to—to," you stutter, unable to speak from how out of breathe you were.

"Say it," he hissed, pulling your hair harder.

"Fuck me. Please," you finally managed to say. He wasted no time picking you up by the back of the thighs and hastily placing you on his desk, flinging the loose papers and books that dawned it on the floor.

You reached between you to undo his belt and pant button as he slipped your panties down so they dangled loosely around your ankles. 

Your lips never disconnecting once. 

Once you got his pants undown and he your panties, he gripped your waist, hoisting you so he could pound his cock into you. You both moan at the contact, gripping each other tighter.

"Fuck," he groans, "Feel so good." You press your lips back to his as he makes work pummeling into you, his hands digging into the flesh of your hips to get as much friction as he can.

You were sure you'd have purple and blue bruises tomorrow.

He brings his mouth to nip and kiss at the side of your neck, his teeth gently grazing against the sensitive skin. "Drivin' me fuckin' insane," he grits, teeth nipping your skin again. You whined, bringing your hands to thread through his hair.

"I drive you insane?" You breathe out, dumbfounded, his cock still sliding in and out of you at a hurried pace. His tongue brushes your neck until it reaches your lips, quickly bullying itself into the sanctity of your mouth.

"Such a good student. Aren't you?" He gruffs into your lips; your mouth hangs agape at the feeling of him in you. "Always do such good work. Don't you, sweetheart?" You moan at his words; he presses a thumb to stimulate your clit. "Fuck—you, you drive me mad," he grits, moving his thumb faster.

You let a string of incoherent words, too caught up with his cock in you and thumb on you to form any real words.

"Huh? Ya, ya. But you must know that already. Or else you wouldn't have worn this—" he signals to the matching bra and panty set you had worn, "to meet with me," he finishes. You respond with another pathetic whimper, feeling your impending climax.

The moment he whispers into the shell of your ear, "Better come quick, or I may change my mind about that paper," you're a goner. You clamp around him at record speed, gripping his shoulders impossibly tighter, as you loudly moan in his mouth. His fingers dig deeper into the fat of your hips as his orgasm chases yours.

It takes both of you a second to catch your breaths, both heaving and chests rising with much pace. After you have caught your breath, he helps ease you off his desk, deftly reaching for your panties that slipped off your ankles in a frenzy and softly putting them back on you, followed by your skirt resting on the floor nearby.

You slipped your shirt back on, buttoning it as he focused on dressing himself. It didn't feel awkward like you had thought it was going to. Sure, it was quiet, but it was comforting.

You grabbed your bookbag, giving him a slight smile as you walked over to the closed door. "I appreciate you meeting with me. See you tomorrow, Dr. Riley," you kindly say.

He nodded, pulling his tie to rest neatly on his neck. "Don't forget about the paper," he plainly said, moving to pick up some of the loose papers on the floor.

A confused expression overtook your face. "I thought—" you began.

"I don't play favorites, sweetheart," he interrupted. "Write the paper."

Okay, he was still a dick, but oh well, sure, you'd write the damn paper, maybe even put a couple of errors in it so that he could deduct some points off, and you could request to meet with him again.

Ya, that sounded like a fine plan indeed.

a/n: inspired by a lovely who commented on my poll about professor!simon <33 @aiqsa (this took me so long omg)

reblogs & comments are encouraged!

[blingblong55]

Need more- König NSFW

Art belongs to: @kinky-thirsty-reader

Based on a request:

reader sitting on desperate!konigs face please i feel like he would be so shy about it but he would eat pussy so good

F!Reader, smut, MDNI, 18+, mentions of face sitting, f!ngering

This man knows how to eat his meal and make a mess with it. He will have you on the couch, bed, side of the road, kitchen table or counter. Anywhere as long as his tongue is fucking into your cunt. His fingers are deep inside of you. Your moans and your juices that leak from you, making him cum in his trousers. Your clit is being abused by his tongue and fingers. Your hands pushing his face, and oh does he love when you do that. The way he looks at you as he eats you out, the hunger and desire for more of you, always makes him need that sweet taste of your cunt. Your slick coating his lips, the ones he licks after he had the privilege to eat you out.

Sometimes he has you before you drop him off at base before missions, other times he is at the side of the road when you pick him up from the base. He loves it when you wear your pink panties and how he slides them to the side or off your body when his needs get the best of him.

On days when he is actually shy about eating you out, that is when you know the orgasm will be better. He gets flustered, excited and nervous to even lift your skirt up. His face flushed, innocent look to him, a stuttering mess when you guide his fingers inside of you. "Meine Liebling, I-is this..this okay?" he says as he rubs your clit, one look from you or a moan and he is a mess. He licks and kisses your pussy, always whispering how much he loves you and the taste of it all. His eyes are closed when he is enjoying eating you out. The room dimmed making him more and more needy. His hands wrapped around your thighs as he keeps your legs open for him.

Once he has made you cum at least twice he smiles and opens his eyes, "I love it when you are like this, Meine Liebling." two more fingers inside of you. You squirm and moan, feeding his inner desires. He sometimes makes you ride his face, but that is only when he knows you deserve a reward after taking him all night. Your inner thighs are always covered with love bites or hickeys, only for him to see. At times, he gets on his knees and eats you out just like that, but it's always in front of a mirror because he loves it when you watch yourself cum and moan.

Days when he is overstimulated and when he is eating you out is when you see him cry. He loves how much you praise him, he adores how you stroke his hair away from his face or how you nod and smile as you watch him eat you out. His favourite view is watching you get drunk on orgasms. Your smooth skin, your thick thighs and your pussy, that is what motivates this man to always fight to come home.

Tags: @liyanahelena

[saywren]

I can't stop thinking about free use medic!reader. Earnest girl who joined up to help people, keep them healthy. Who becomes part of the 141 and comes to realize that though they're a united force, they're each so different, with their own strengths and personalities and quirks that she quickly grows to appreciate not just professionally but personally too. She likes Price, and Gaz, and Soap, and Ghost, and so she tries hard to keep her boys healthy. Patches them up, keeps an eye on their injuries even once they're healed so they won't act up, cause them undue pain. Makes sure they're eating right and resting between missions, not pushing too hard in training or drinking and smoking too too much. Okay, they don't love that part, but she's good at her job, and they do secretly like the attention, how she fusses over them, even if some of them pretend they don't. It's a different sort of care than they show each other, and it's nice to have that extra support, know someone's looking out for them beyond just their usefulness.

And, well, if their physical health is important, so is their emotional health. Lots of cortisol and adrenaline involved in their line of work, and not a lot of ways to burn it off. It only makes sense really that if she's sewing them up and rubbing out the tension in their muscles, she may as well bend over and let them use her holes for stress relief. That's what she joined for, after all; they need her, she's there, ready to take care of it. Anything to make sure her team can function to the best of their ability, of course.

And it works real well, letting them fuck her whenever they want. Their moods have improved, along with their training stats, almost across the board. Teamwork, too, and their medic has certainly had a hand in that seeing as they work together to work her over fairly regularly. They can't even remember a time when Task Force 141 didn't have their little medic with them.

And then hmm idk, mayhaps reader's IUD fails idk idk

[hbma]

Some small dilf!Simon thots. F!reader.

You had to run some important errands so you’re arriving later and pushed Simon (who also gets dragged by his young daughters) to parents night/ some parent/child event.

Mans is definitely wearing either a hat or surgical mask with his jacket . Big scary looking man his 2 adorable daughters. all the single moms attempting to get close and flirt with him. Even if he’s trying to make a point of the wedding ring on his finger. But Simon is reserved, and quiet. he’ll only accept this flirty behavior from you, and so he tries to be as cordial as possible with them without coming off as rude.

And his little girls’ logic is “lady being close to dad should be mom”. but this lady = not mom. So they loudly proclaim “you’re not my mommy!” And simons looks down and tell them “you’re right” and gives the lady a pointed look. And so they’re his little bodyguards keeping other moms from approaching him until you arrive. Simon is probably like “thank god you’re here”.

Also: if there are any physical activity games involved, Simon and his girls would OWN everyone else.

I need to have his babies NEOW

[milkyblxxd]

⛧°. ⋆༺♱༻⋆. °⛧

slasher!TF141 cw: blood, death, chasing, unconsensual touching, big bad men being scary, f!reader, vague and incomplete, barely edited

wanted to post this as a tester to see if this is something people would be interested in

๋࣭ ⭑⚝

Every breath burns. Your legs are moving on their own, desperately fleeing as flight completely overrides your nervous system. Tree branches whip into your face, but your brain can hardly register the stinging pain they bring. The darkness of the forest swallows you whole and refuses to release you from its jaws. The full moon mocks you as it dangles in the sky, peeking between the gaps of the evergreens - free of earthly horrors. 

It’s impossible to tell if it's blood, sweat, or tears running down your face. You don’t even know if it’s your own blood. Nausea violently twists your stomach, images of your friends' mangled bodies flashing through your mind. 

What was supposed to be a summer getaway to celebrate the end of finals ended up to be a nightmare. 

The warning signs were there. Dark figures lurking at the edges of the lake waved off as shadows playing tricks on your mind. Items disappearing or moving around (but you swear you brought that brand new yellow bathing suit - did you take my hairbrush from the bathroom?). Skin erupting into goosebumps as you try to sunbathe because it just feels like someone is watching you - but your friends brushed off your concerns. 

You just need to relax - you’re too wound up!

 I don’t see anything…how much have you had to drink?

You’re gonna freak everyone out if you keep being all weird - 

What else were you supposed to do? Walk 10 miles to the nearest gas station, hitch a ride back home all because the woods are creeping a city girl like you out? 

A root catches your bare foot, sending you face first into the ground. In the attempt to brace yourself your body twists the opposite direction, a shooting pain that travels from your ankle to your spine makes you heave. You can’t help but lay there for a moment as the pain and exhaustion seep into your bones. A patch of moonlight catches your eye as you gasp, short breaths cutting through the hum of the forest. You don't stop your eyes from fluttering shut.

Hopefully your friends will forgive you for not getting away…

Thundering footsteps and muffled shouts snap you back to reality. Gritting your teeth, you claw your fingers into the earth. Like hell you’re gonna die tonight. Adrenaline forces you up onto your feet as you find the strength to move. Hiding is your best option, if you can just hide until daylight, find your way to the nearest road and limp until you can find anyone - you can survive, you can survive - 

The hope that sparked within you was snuffed out just as quickly as it was ignited - with what you could only describe as a brick wall bulldozing into you. You’re sent flying to the ground, wind completely knocked out of your lungs. Before you can even recover, a heavy weight is straddling over your waist and manhandling you onto your stomach. Coughing, you can only weakly struggle against the iron grip around both of your wrists, the feeling of a rope twisting and cutting into your skin as you’re restrained. 

A leather clad hand grips the hair at the base of your skull and tugs, a cry slipping from your lips as you’re forced to arch your spine to relieve the sting. The light from a phone screen being shoved into your face is blinding. You can only see the screen for a second - but the grotesque image makes you freeze. Blood and dirt covers your face, trails of clean skin left behind as your tears cut through the grime - but what was behind you was the real terror. The red of the skull mask your assailant wore almost perfectly matches the shade of the blood smeared on your body.

The sound of the camera shutter goes off.

Your head is suddenly being shoved back into the dirt, heavy hand pressing into your wet cheek as you sob. The leather is strangely cool against your hot skin as he strokes underneath your eye, cleaning up your tears in an act of…comfort? 

The man shushes you and mumbles incoherently in a thick accent, muffled through the mask he wears as he huffs.

“Couldnae let yah get away-”

“-sweet little bonnie, don’ cry-”

“-made me so hard chasing yah like that, fuck-”

You can feel something hard pressing into your ass when what sounds like a radio is being activated.

“Got our little lamb.”

[myhornysaga]

𝐌𝐲 𝐖𝐚𝐫 𝐂𝐫𝐢𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐇𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝

Tags: smut, fluff, established relationship, mdni, graves x reader

Part 1, series masterlist

You and Phil have been married for over a decade now. You watched him and helped alongside in creating his brainchild, The Shadow Company, a private military company.

Fate is such a peculiar thing that you also happen to be a criminal lawyer who has quite a good track record of fair share of wins and losses.

But you had quit your career as a lawyer for a while. Yet, you offered Phil to be the head of his company's legal team which he solidly refused.

Even though you are good, he doesn't wants you involved in his dirty mercenary business in any shape, way or form.

But you know how to make him do what you want, wrap him around your little finger like your puppet.

A good blow job and licking his balls and he's a mess. Even better if you swallow his cum and lick your finger tips.

And then all you have to say is, "fuck me like a whore", with wide doe eyes...

Your words wake his primal cave man instincts and goes into an absolute rampage with only one mission on his mind which is to make you see stars in broad daytime.

Letting him rut his cock in you like a hungry dog in heat with your head shoved into the pillow. He drags you and throws you onto the carpeted floor and then starts thrusting his dick like horny rabbit while you grab pull his gorgeous blonde hair. He hisses at the pain but then leans down to suck on your nipple, making you moan, giving you pleasure only to then bite and make you yelp. Oh the pain and the pleasure...

After a certain tragic incident, he has mostly avoided cumming inside you. But oh Lord he'll be damned if doesn't comes inside you now! God, does he wants to fill you up. And he just does that. Sensing he's closer, he bites on your shoulder while you dig your freshly manicured red nails on his freckled back. And with that, he came in you.

You expected him to pull out honestly, like he usually does but god oh god does it feels good as Phil's cock twitched in you, you could feel his warm seed inside you. Oh god, thank god he came inside. You had almost forgotten what it felt like.

Graves had his head in the crook of your neck sucking on your neck, making sure he leaves his mark on you. You caressed his golden hair and pulled him to cup his cheeks.

Good Lord he is so beautiful. The muted sunrays made him look so... beautiful, ethereal almost.

You scanned his features like its the first time. His eyes, tired and blue, oh so blue. His lips, pouty and adorable, his nose and his cheek. Ah that damned scar on the apple of his cheek that stretched till his ear. Your fingers ran through his scar subconsciously and kissed it, with love and affection.

Graves knows he loves you but damn its like the first time again. Falling in love with you all over again because you accept him as he is, flawed, scarred, broken, tired.

You were so lost in the moment that you forgot your mission for which you now laid on the floor, legs wapped, naked with your husband on top and his cock in you as the cum dripped...

And.... done! He's yours now!

You have noticed for over a decade of warming his bed that Phil gets very vulnerable after sex. Its like, he will do whatever you ask of him, however crazy or insane it might be, he would gladly agree!

And that is how, you secured your position in your husband's private military company as the Head of Legal Team and department, Marketing and Finance Advisor and the Public face or public front for Shadow Company.

Its a lot of important roles but its not like you are incompetent. Your degrees, years of experience and having a family generationally involved in Finance and Law has helped you, a lot.

♧◇♧

M.list

[savagebite]

Toxic cod headcanons

Tw: everyone is an asshole in this. there’s honestly just overall all kinds of abuse. This is however, just fantasy. Ooc to, honestly they’d never act like this realistically this again is just fantasy/a kink. Dead dove do not eat

Price

-He’s an old fashion kind of guy, so he reinforces a lot of old fashion stereotypes. At first it’s simply making him meals when he comes home, to doing the dishes. But it slowly turns into you quitting your job and becoming his house wife/husband/partner and then beatings

-his hits aren’t to hard, but hard enough to bruise you. It’s mostly smacks, but if you fuck up really bad it’s punches.

-His rules are strict, to the point you almost don’t have much freedom. Again, it starts slowly to simplying knowing your password to you having limited access to your own phone at all.

-As you can tell, he’s controlling, your his wife/husband that is your responsibility, anything else is unnecessary. To him at least

Soap/johnny

A genuine asshole, straight up drugs you. He’s so bad at talking about his emotions that if your mad at him he’ll slip you something in your meal or drink and takes you to bed.

Doesn’t use his hands to hurt you, but instead uses his words.

He often manipulates you, rejecting any bad behavior he had done with a simple “that didn’t happen” since again, he hates any negative interaction.

Ghost/simon

Doesn’t mean to be abusive but when he gets drunk it’s all out of the window, after his best friend dies it gets worse

Beats you, takes any anger he feels out on you with his fists and it leaves you with bruises and marks. Surprisingly never broke any of your bones, has sprained your wrist however.

Apologies right after, he feels incredibly guilty. But you know he doesn’t mean it! He can’t help it! You forgive him? Aw, what would he do without you.

Threatens to do incredibly horrible things to himself if you leave so you’re kinda stuck with him.

Gaz

From what I’ve seen in the games he’s quick to anger, and I think that would show in your relationship

He’s quick to get on your case, jumping from one to another to throw you off. “How’s that guy you were with? Were you CHEATING? Bet you love taking his cock huh?”

Speaking of cheating, is incredibly jealous just in general. Don’t expect to have a lot of friends for long. He refuses to let you go to any parties unless he comes with you.

He’s smart tho, (have you seen him in the game?) so he’ll play on small insecurities just to keep you around. He’ll comment on how you look, how you do your hair, anything to get you to feel so self conscious you stay

A lot of verbal abuse and manipulation, I don’t see Gaz as a person to hit

[7ulpix]

Simon Riley with AAF! Reader + Skincare 🫧

🫧 warning(s): girly/very feminine reader, very messy, not proofread!

paring - simon riley • reader

word count: 561

🫧 request - not one!

🫧 author's note - FIRST WRITING POST ON HERE?? HI HELLO just me rambling....british military man save me......reader is Simon's gf at the time!!!!! PLEASEPLEAS leave criticism, this is my first time writing for COD idk how to write for older guys 😞💔💔

- 🫧 -

After having a very busy day, Simon cannot wait to come home to his very bubbly girlfriend and adorable puppy, Riley. No matter how much of a bad mood he is in, the two always manage to soothe it instantly. As he opens the door he is welcomed by a very excited puppy and his girlfriend, both in the kitchen.

"What are yer' two up to?"

"Nothing much. Trying a new skincare remedy."

Simon had moved from his position by the door to leaning over your shoulder. He peeks down at the bowl you're currently stirring to see a brownish mixture of ingredients and the smell of.....coffee........

"Those my coffee beans yer' got in there, too?" (🤨)

"Needed them for the recipe to work."

"I need them in order for me to work."

You look up at him and stick your tongue out before continuing your stirring.

"It's supposed to help clear your skin and reduce redness and eyebags."

You finish stirring. Turning away to get two smaller bowls.

"Don't think Riley can eat this."

"The bowls are not for Riley silly, you're doing it too!"

"Me?"

"Yeah! We're both trying this out, pretty boy. Go get cleaned up."

Simon sighed very loudly in a sarcastic way as if he was so tired of being bossed around, walking to their shared room. After 20 minutes, Simon came out freshly clean after a shower, switched into black basketball shorts, and a black baggy shirt. His outfit was the complete opposite to his girlfriend: pink robe, pink bonnet, pink nails, black tanktop, pink minishorts, and bunny slippers. Even Riley, the scary German Shepard their neighbor downstairs hated, had a light pink collar. You had now moved into the bathroom with the two bowls, Riley sitting by the tub, most likely bored.

"Ready?"

"M' ready."

"Okay, just rub it all over your face. Avoid your mouth though, not very tasty."

"Tasted it, didn't ya?"

".......not the best, you can definitely taste the coffee beans."

You push one of the smaller bowls towards him. He grabs a bit of the mixture, slowly rubbing it on his face as much as he can. You do the same, rubbing it around your face.

"Okay, now we leave it on for about 15 minutes!!!"

"So what do we do in those 15 minutes?"

".......watch Teen Wolf?"

The next 15 minutes were spent on the couch, finishing season 1 of Teen Wolf with riley enjoying the headpats received. If Soap witnessed Ghost sitting and wztching a show like this, he would lose it. Simon never thought in his entire life, he would be sitting on his couch watching a young teens show about being turning into a hybird wolf. He also never thought he'd see Riley rolling around on the rug, while his girlfriend gives the most praise he's ever seen.

"Timers up! C'mon we gotta wash this off our face."

Simon's out of his daydreams and into the bathroom with you. You both wash your face, you even lean up to leave kisses on his chin and rubbing water onto Riley's face so he doesn't feel left out. You look back into the mirror, smiling noticing that small blemish from earlier, is gone. Simon doesn't see much change done to his face besides glowing a bit more. Kinda sad only you get to see that glowing face. <3

[codnasties]

farah deserves to be pampared 🏴(🌽 link)

if there is someone who deserves to be loves and pampered to the fullest, that's farah. she's been through so much and lived enough near death experiences one would think the grim reaper is going after her.

but our poor commander deserves a much needed break, and when she finally gets one she definitely deserves hes mouth kissed, her body worshiped, her tits sucked and, on top of it all, her pussy eaten and fingered.

capitalizing her beautiful lips for yourself, tongues interwiring and spit mixing, before you start kissing your way down her body. making a pit stop at her chest, sucking one of her nipples while one of your hands plays with the other and switching back and forth before continuind your way down to her wet middle.

and when you finally do, gotta make sure to tease the sensitive skin around it, leaving soft pecks on her inner thighs and labia before enjoying the main course. long licks along her slit mixing with sucking on her clit and open mouther kisses to her pussy before your fingers get into action. curling them so they hit that spongy spot that spongy spot that makes her see the stars.

let's say farah hasn't been so relaxed in one hell of a long time...

[swordymacaroni]

What Love Feels Like

Pairings- John Price x reader

Warnings-None

🎀Price-

Price sits down heavily on the worn-out couch, his legs unable to hold him up any longer. Something heavy and dark sits on his shoulders, something he can't shake of, something that sticks its tendrils deeper into his chest. His head falls forward, a shuddery breath escaping him. You hesitantly walk towards him. Hearing your footsteps, he straightens, pinning your with a smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes.

"Back from the mission?" you ask.

He nods.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing, bird. Don't worry. How was your day?"

You sit down beside him, your warmth seeping into his tactical pants.

"Casualties?"

He starts.

"I tried. I really tried but-"

You wrap your arms around him.

His relief is immediate, shoulders sagging as he falls into you. Your soft, clean scent, so different from the musk of blood. The blood of the dead. The dying. "I couldn't save them," he says into your shoulder, eyes closed but stinging. "I couldn't and they deserved better, bird. You deserve better. I'm not a good man, I know, but I'm not a good captain either, I just-"

His voice cracks, and he goes silent. He expects you to say what everyone does. The "It's alright, Captain. You're a great leader. Just believe in yourself" shit.

Instead, you tighten your arms around him further, pressing your lips to the back of his neck. "I made soup," you say against his skin. "Want some?"

He tugs your closer. "No. Just you."

Captain Price. Strong. Reliable. Confident. Broken. There's so many words that hang in the air, between you and him, but right now all he knows is that if he crumbles, you will be there. He needs you to be there. For the rest of his life.

[ryuzakemo128]

Who eats alone, dies alone.

Pairing: Poly141 x Outlaw! Female Reader Content Warnings: Dead Dove Do Not eat, kidnapping, murder, cheating, affairs, coercion to get sex and a 'family', reader is bisexual, tall and plus sized, misogyny, violence against women, violence, and other things that will make your stomach turn. Don't read if you're squeamish. word Count: 3074

Masterlist

Credit 4 Dividers: @cafekitsune + @strangergraphics

You weren’t a small.

You were tall.

You were never considered a pretty little young thing like the women you envied around you. The anger at your circumstances, at yourself, burned inside you like a furnace and the only thing to fuel your wrath was bloodshed.

You're useless, aren’t you if you can’t be like the surrounding women?

What use is your existence if you're scaring people away?

Your charm lured in a victim for your boss. But you didn’t care.

Your boss being a pretty young blonde with enough money to make the oil barons wish she was their wife.

You shot three people in order to get to your target, you didn’t even look at them.

The gun felt light in your hands, the three bodies dropped pretty quickly. 

“Get in.” you ordered. Slamming the carriage door after getting in with him to deter from leaving. You pointed the gun in his direction, “I would hate for someone to get the wrong idea that we’re together.” you spoke in a low husky tone. The smell of his fear drifting to your nose. You might be enjoying this a little too much. Might.

You brought out the handcuffs and snapped them wright on his wrists. Your gloved fingers making sure he can’t simply run away without look too suspicious. 

Ghost called out to Price whom was shooting at the caravan as it rode off into the dirt and dust. They got there far too late. Like they always do. Too late to make any kind of real proper change. 

As soap looked around the medium-sized carriage for an escape route, “Sweetheart, Sugar, darlin. You’re goin no where. You’re stayin on that sweet arse of yours and accepting how things are for time bein.”  You whispered into his ear. 

“I don’t want this to become permanent. So I suggest you compose yourself. A lovely woman will make sure you’re well-fed and cared for. And you’ll be thankin the good lord for everything she is.” you winked at him. Right as the carriage bumped and jostled around along the uneven terrain. 

Price saw you in person the following week with information on a new target. The one who took Johnny MacTavish. The same women who killed three men without a single sign of remorse in her eyes. 

Finding none made his stomach drop.

His heart beats faster now. 

He knew you. The woman kicked out from the church his parents always went to on a Sunday morning. He remembered how a man kicked you in the stomach until you coughed up blood from the blunt force to your stomach. Always kicking himself for never standing up for you. 

Had he known you were forced to take this path alone, then. What would he have done? 

Your mother eventually passed from a cancer which ate at her mind as well as her soul. Your father cheating on her with the maids inside your manor. He thought his amassed wealth would grant him a front row seat straight into heaven by the time he died. Not that he have ever personally read the actual thing himself. He knew a few proverbs and apparently it’s all he ‘needed’. To your poor mother’s dismay, who had actually read it in her youth.

Your eyes looked into his, a wall of steel and stone standing before him. Unlike the woman who was beaten by men just because she couldn’t control her sexuality. The faint scar along the left side of your jawline, a memory and a reminder that men could never be trusted.

Why did you take Soap so aggressively? So much show of power from someone in a short amount of time. It was like you were begging to be shot down. 

But Price knew better than to take a book by its cover. He’s seen the same look in your eyes as the men he had taken to be his lovers years ago. The look of someone who had seen too much, felt too much pain, and was now numb to the world around them. Someone who could endure any amount of pain or punishment and keep coming back for more.

Price still speaks to your father. Not that he would admit this to your face. ‘A monster by association’ you would call him. Not like you would be completely wrong. But you wouldn’t be right at the same time. Though he knew you wouldn’t care for the complexities or details. 

They’ve seen your type, your kind and your brood before. Thrown away like yesterday’s garbage. Thrown to the curb like you weren’t worth a damn thing. Not like you shown it on your face how much it bothered you. Not like you could get in somebody’s face and scream at them before. Not like you can now.

You never felt so free in your life. 

A pity, things came to a head this way.

He didn’t want you dead. He wanted you to bring MacTavish back to them. But it was certainly clear you weren’t going to do to just that. Not like you could defy your boss’s orders in the way he desired you to. If you did, you would be on the streets again, and who was he to tell you to leave a home you found on your own? 

Maddening to be sure. To be stuck between a rock and a hard place. You were making your own way to support yourself, your own way to bend the world to your own image and your own liking. Crafting it to your own whims and desires, like you enjoyed the thought of playing god to serve yourself alone.

Price had to regroup to the others. Before things got messy like it had last time. Three dead in the attempt to blockade you. Like a ram, you barrelled through like they weren’t worth a damn thing. Ruthless in your loyal servitude. A pity. It should have been him you were serving instead.

To have you bent over. 

What a sight that would be. 

But he knew your boss. The dinner party he’s invited to indicate as such. 

Hoping he would be able to sneak Johnny out of there. While she played hostess to her dinner guests with a fake smile. One which never seemed to reach her eyes. A plastered, well-rehearsed smile which looked haunting if you knew sadistic ways. There wasn’t much he could do for him from this far away. 

If you were there? It would be borderline impossible to get him out of that estate. No matter what. He couldn’t do a damn thing. 

“If she’s there, we won’t be able to get him back, Kyle.” price protested, waving at the naive man’s suggestion. “She’s like a dog with a bone, relentless, tenacious, a loyal bloodhound. And I don’t think it’s the money keeping her loyal, either.” 

He wasn’t wrong. You weren’t loyal to her for the money alone, were you? The money made things easier to swallow. Easy to deal with the eccentric nature of her whims of her sexual drive. You couldn’t be bothered to argue with the semantics of why you worked for her. The captives didn’t need to know. Anyone outside wouldn’t understand either.

Not in the ways you would have hoped to get. You would repent later. Repent tomorrow. But tomorrow is always one day away, and you were allergic to the thought of confession. To be brought to your knees because of something as fickle as truth. To escape the wooden pressures of the crucifix and sermons spoken from inside their little chapels won’t touch you again. 

Not while you still live and breathe. 

You were in the hands of a powerful woman married to an oil baron who was away for months at a time. Known for his thing for bringing in young mistresses to breed like some kind of rabid dog. You ignored how some woman would be paid to live there with his wife. Normally as well paid maids and servants. What better way to keep your marriage and the women you found attractive all in one place? 

According to him, it didn’t sound nearly as insane as his wife’s sadistic streak of kidnapping young men from the streets to play with as her one-way lovers. A way to cope with the sadistic desires from his wife, or did he enjoy it too much to take much of an issue with her actions? Who knew. As far as everyone else is concerned. Those men disappeared from the face of the earth.

Gone. Never to found again. Not even their loved ones ever knew what happened to them. But you did. Some of them died trying to escape. Mauled by vicious guard dogs on their front lawn or starved. 

You still remember when your boss spanked you hard enough to make cum like crazy. Not that you could ever explore that side of you. Not like you ever could. Not with the parents you have. “Call me mummy.” she’d hiss into your ear as she’d finger your clit. Masterfully. 

She knew your secret. The kind which could get you killed if the right kind of people knew about it. It’s how she kept you in check. The strangle hold on you was real. Even as Soap was forced to watch the same night, he was brought in to her estate. 

A bisexual woman of your standing? You wouldn’t last a week by yourself. You didn’t want them to that secret. The other being shunned by the church you used to attend with your parents. The church disowned you and threatened your parents to urge them to do the same. When your parents refused because they didn’t trust what the church tried to say.

With your mother dead.

Your father lost to himself with the lust of women and greed of the green dollar bills. 

Picking up a gun, learning how to shoot, learning how to intimidate, and learning to forgive yourself for hurting so damn much. 

You were finally good at something.

Scared men paid more. Scared men didn’t argue. And scared men didn’t survive.

Those who crossed you wished they never saw you. Those who survived knew what kind of monster lurked beneath your eyes. 

The most dangerous thing someone could be is a dangerous woman with nothing to lose and everything to gain. And you played up your dangerous look, and attitude to the absolute maximum. Unhinged in the ways you felt alive. Unhinged in ways men would be praised for. You didn’t need a mirror to know you looked every bit of the part of a dangerous gun slinging outlaw you made yourself into. Like you always wanted to be. Like you are meant to be. 

A cold-heart gunslinger because otherwise you would have been dead years ago. How your trench coat bellowed and how your bandana remained firmly on the lower half of your face. Hiding your identity. Keeping others from trying to find you or tracking you down. Covering your mouth in the covers of darkness. Either way, it worked well for you.

The stallion you rode on while the carriage was getting repaired in the workshop just outside of town. The black horse, a symbol of your capabilities and tenacious spirit. The woman you served had the audacity to still call herself, ‘Lady of the Sapphire Manor’.

You weren’t like her. You were never like her. Never fed into someone’s desire for company like she did with you.

The same manor is technically yours by all rights and reason in terms of inheriting after your mother passed on. It was little to no wonder as to who should own that manor. 

Your father was the first person you murdered. Tied him up on a wooden chair in the backyard, stacking every portrait containing his likeness painted or printed onto them into a bonfire formation. Piling them up around him like a final act of self realisation. He was asleep until you poured that gasoline over him. 

The cold, biting, gasoline-soaked person who gave you life as Soap watched from the balcony in the second story of the manor. Soap saw you getting ready to murder your father in cold blood. This wasn't any old stranger you could emotionally detach yourself from. This was your bloodline.

You didn’t blink.

You didn’t flinch.

Looking over to the woman in the balcony for approval. Her approval. ‘It’s like she needs it, like she craves it, to be owned completely instead of wandering around and wondering if you’ll ever fit anywhere.’ Soap pondered watching this as he remained tied up in his wooden chair. 

The match flicked to the match box, the fire burning the match stick to the gasoline covered man. As his pleas for mercy were ignored, as his screams splitting the night sky as the flames licked his flesh until he was nothing but burned flesh and bone. The flames reflected in your eyes. It’s clear kidnapping, keeping people hostage, tormenting hostages weren’t enough anymore. 

You’re no longer satisfied with small amounts of murder, mayhem, chaos, and pain. You wanted Soap to see the real thing. To smell the burning flesh from people who were the real monsters in the world, and you wouldn’t be satisfied until he saw everything. 

He wasn’t like the rest. He didn’t belong in your world. Just like you didn’t belong in his. You have a part to play. You played it so well.

A monster. A terrible beast. Unloved and unlovable. You had to play the role of the monster to survive.

Soap found him high as a kite walking to his lovers without his pants on with only fifty dollars to his name. Pockets full of opium. No memory of how he got inside the manor. Plenty of memories of all the horrors lying inside the depth of Sapphire Manor. Inflicted by you for the amusement of ‘The Lady’. 

“We’re dead price. DEAD long before we knew she existed. You don’t see it. You’ll never see it. I have seen it. We’re dead.” his nonsenual muttering as Soap gripped his face, rocking him side to side like they were in some kind of long term hospice centre on giant wheels. Too afraid to stop moving in the case, he heard the screams of the man he watched burn to death come back. 

“She killed her father Price. She turned him into a human bonfire and watched him burn.” Soap continued to blabber on and on. 

This all happened in a matter of four days and five nights. Breaking him until he couldn’t trust what he saw in the dark. Always checking to see if you were standing in the darkness. Checking outside his window every five minutes, sometimes hallucinating you were standing outside. 

You were never physically there. You haven’t been since you left him in the middle of town to walk home alone. Likewise, you weren’t a babysitter and you got what you wanted from him. An excuse to get more from your boss. A pay raise. 

Torture isn’t a one shoe fits all scenario. It is usually tailored to the individual targeted. But somehow your methods were brutal enough to break every man The Lady held within Sapphire Manor. The letter you had left in his pants that you gave through the mail slot. 

‘The lady holds no interest in a man who's lost his wits, Soap. Perhaps it's time for you to leave us. I return you to your ‘family’ what ever that is. Lest this be a reminder to keep your nose out of her opium business and shove off elsewhere. 

You turned him into a broken man. Like you have done so many times before with so many other men. A master of torture. A musician in the realm of pain, fear, and madness. You weave it well. You play with it like an artist who poked and prodded, working with your clay. Moulding people over and over. Swimming in the sea of your seemingly eternal madness. 

Taxidermy people sitting in various rooms, permanently frozen in their state of distress, stuffed and poised like hunters did with their animal trophies. Redesigned, redressed and posed in ways you wanted them to look. Another thing, The Lady took pride in her home. People would assume they were fake and none the wiser. Unless they knew of the method of how they came to be. They will never know the gruesome side. 

Your methods of torture evolve after each ‘failure’ finding what works and what needed to be changed. The opium haze of your victims made them easier for them to ply the information from their lips, easier for you to manipulate. You weren’t always so good at this, your first attempts were clumsy and lacked finesse, but with each soul you crushed, each man you bent to her will, you grew more adept, more skilled, more terrifying.

When it came to dosing them with morphine on the second day? The effect of the morphine made them susceptible to suggestion, one tool of many you used to help get you what you wanted from them. You didn’t have to get to the actual torture if they gave you what you wanted. Gentle whispered promises to stop if they talked. 

Was it really so hard to imagine soap gave in so quickly?

 You didn’t even need to get your hands dirty with the actual torture. 

Who knew imagery of darkness, formed and sculpted by your own hand, was enough to break people? 

Price shouldn’t blame him from folding so quickly. If you call being stuck there for four days and five nights relatively quick. Which, in terms of torture? 

It was a record.

The only one who went mad in such a short time. A sick, twisted form of pride gurgled inside you. Chewing at the leftover rage you kept in the furnace called your brain. 

The Lady had eyes everywhere in her manor, and you were just one set of eyes under her service. A gatekeeper. The one who decided who kept their sanity or not. If they even got to see the light of day again, that is. 

What you are now? He wouldn’t have guessed you would have become. He would have called anyone mad for thinking this would have happened anyway. That you were doomed from the start.

[cr1msonshr13k]

🍒Panties? Missing.🍷

[littlemissclandestine]

Soft!Russell Adler x Reader pt.1

Note: Howdy Adler nation! Hope this isn't too OOC. I just know that man is a big softie really. Might do some more parts to this such as a solely nsfw one and a married/family life one. Please let me know if this is something you'd like! <33 - Star ✰

Warning: Mentions of sex, MDNI

💙 Soft!Adler who's heart has been thawing ever since he met you, his stoic and cold demeanour melting away whenever you're around

💙 Soft!Adler who pats his man-spread thighs as he's sat down, holding out his hands for you to grasp to ease yourself into his lap in the evenings

💙 Soft!Adler who takes your hands in his, rubbing the back of them with his thumbs as he talks you down after a bad day, kissing your forehead

💙 Soft!Adler who is never the first to pull away during a hug, his chin atop your head, eyes closed, arms wrapped around you like he truly never wants to let go

💙 Soft!Adler who will lift you up from your waist to grab things from the top shelf, lowering you gently and kissing you, teasing you about your height, expressing how cute he thinks the difference is

💙 Soft!Adler who will hug you from behind as you do the dishes, kissing your neck lightly, whispering nothing but praise in your ear and then offering to dry while you wash

💙 Soft!Adler who loves to slow dance with you, a hand on your waist and the other holding yours to the side or his hands both on your waist as you look up at him, arms around his neck as you both sway to the beat of slow romantic/jazz songs

💙 Soft!Adler who will take a few days off work to look after you when you're ill, cooking the few dishes he knows you love made by him

💙 Soft!Adler who drives with one hand on the steering wheel, the other lightly squeezing your thigh as he shoots you little knowing glances and smirks

💙 Soft!Adler who takes his time with you, careful not to hurt you, intertwining his fingers with yours, caressing your skin with love, every curve, every scar and imperfection perfect to him because they belong to you

💙 Soft!Adler who worships your body and mind

💙 Soft!Adler who genuinely wants to get to know your body, what satisfies you, smiling against your skin as he makes your back arch

💙 Soft!Adler who cares for you after sex, asking how you feel, littering your body with wet, sloppy kisses afterwards, running a bath for the two of you, his chest to your back as he lays with you in the tub and you both almost fall asleep

💙 Soft!Adler who always puts you first when his job allows, protecting you, making sacrifices to keep you happy

💙 Soft!Adler who has no qualms about landing a blow to anyone who so much as looks at you funny

💙 Soft!Adler who is a chronic smoker but actually considers quitting if you dislike it

💙 Soft!Adler who will hold your hand under the table in public, planting kisses to your temple and cheeks or wrap an arm around your waist or shoulders, pulling you closer to him because he can't bare having you even half a metre away

💙 Soft!Adler who makes up for any date nights, birthdays etc. missed because he was gone for months on an op or got hung up at the offices in Langley

💙 Soft!Adler who gives you time and space to process things, respecting any boundaries

💙 Soft!Adler who struggles to apologise and talk things out after an argument but will make the effort and chat when you're ready as he can't afford to lose you because he'll surely lose himself

💙 Soft!Adler who didn't necessarily want a family even with his ex but would give anything to see you carry his child, if and when you're ready

💙 Soft!Adler who will fuck you roughly when he gets back from deployment, apologising and telling you that you feel even better than he remembers and how much he missed being inside of you

💙 Soft!Adler who could listen to you for hours, talking about your interests, how your day was, getting distracted by the way your face glows as you smile and get excited about something

💙 Soft!Adler who will put a blanket on you if you're out of it, napping on the couch during the day, kneeling in front of you, smiling as he strokes your hair because of how angelic you look

💙 Soft!Adler who will call you when he's away, telling you he misses you, to take care of yourself and stay safe when he's the one in a warzone

💙 Soft!Adler who shows you how much you mean to him, not just saying it, buying you gifts when he's away to surprise you and thinking of things you may have forgotten about, tears filling your waterline because he remembers every single small detail

💙 Soft!Adler who melts when he sees you wearing his turtlenecks and jackets etc that look oversized on you but in the right places, as well as his signature sunglasses

💙 Soft!Adler who only allows you the privilege of seeing this side to him

who is afraid of losing you But...

who isn't afraid to say the words "I love you, sweetheart"

dividers by @saradika-graphics <33

[myblogforeverandalways]

𝘊𝘖𝘋 𝘴𝘮𝘶𝘵- 𝘎𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘵

Hiya pretty! tysm for the likes on the last post, the repost, and the follow omfg(ilysm)...I was so surprised when I checked. Thank you so so much. Anyway, here's a second part of my fanfiction. Love ya. xx

Part of my Ghost fanfic on Wattpad <33 (Fr1edC0rp) <- if you wanna find me there love :)

his thumb teasing your lower lip. Fuck he was getting hard just by looking at those needy eyes, waiting, waiting for him to do anything without any consequences. He'd tried to keep his composure for you, but you weren't making it any easier.

You would grow flustered, noting as Ghost's breath grew deeper from his arousal. He would brush strands of hair back, memorising your features for his pleasures later. He'd remove his thumb from your lip, watching as you'd palm his crotch with dirty intent. He never took you for a girl who was this confident, but it only caused his erection to grow, begging to be let out as your hand caressed him through his cargo—causing Ghost to let out a low grunt in pleasure and lustrous pain.

"I never took you as a needy girl, " he teased, starting to unbuckle his belt, trying to stay quiet regarding how late it was.

"I'm sorry, I can't help it.." You're words trailed off as Ghost sighed, revealing his hard length, jerking it slowly.

"Damn right you can't, princess"

Ghost's voice dripped with possessiveness as he played with himself in the amides of your needy gaze. Your pussy throbbing more, almost becoming too painful to endure any longer. He'd smirk his hand, teasing those plump lips.

You wanted him to use you until you were swollen with his warm cum. Tripping over yourself after he takes the ability to use your legs with ease. A sweet fantasy that you feared would be true from his prominent jerks, his pre-cum leaking from the tip as his cock twitched for your lips. You'd lick Ghost's cum, suckling softly on the tip as he bucked his hips, moaning softly. You never realised how sensitive he was until now, his hand resting at the back of your head, holding your hair up.

Your head would lower in submission to Ghost's cock, reaching down it slowly as you'd try to take all of it. Your mouth would try to resist, warning you as your head went lower, his dick reaching the back of your throat.

"Fucking hell." Ghost murmured, pressing your head down, testing how far you could really go, Your tongue tracing along his veiny cock.

You whimpered, your body protesting against him as you moved your head back up, coughing slightly. Your tongue left a trail of saliva right back to Ghost's dick, almost like a leash showing who you belonged to. Ghost didn't take no for an answer; however, watching as you went right back to his length, it was as if it was something you had craved since he walked into that clinic, waiting to be cared for by your soft, tender hands. Ones that trembled as if they had never touched a man so intimately.

And Goddamn, did that turn him on even more.

"Good girl, taking my cock so well", He praised, leaning back in the clinic chair. The sounds of your whimpers are like a melody he could never get tired of.

"Oh? You want everyone to hear?" Ghost smirked, jerking his cock into your mouth, enhancing those whimpers even more.

He would softly groan as you sucked harder, almost in revenge for his countless teasing. But he didn't complain, your mouth working him to a climax quicker than he expected. Ghost held your hair tighter as you lubed his cock up with your saliva, dripping onto your uniform as well as his pre cum from before. You'd rock your head back and forth, holding gaze with his eyes that would shut in pure ecstasy, a low groan escaping his lips. His load piling into your mouth.

Ghost pinched your cheeks softly, your tongue rolling out to show the mess they made.

"God, you're so perfect", He muttered, panting softly. "Swallow that for me, princess."

istg if you made it this farrr. Tysm. I am so happy you found some sort of interest in this :)

[myhornysaga]

If there's ever a conversation in context of you or you and Keegan, there's 4 words that are always present in the sentence... 'crazy, psychotic beautiful bitch'

You and keegan are nothing but a messy 'couple'(?) Heck you two are both insane. For crying out loud, you married him the evening he was leaving for his deployment, he was 21, you were 19. After that deployment his entire life and personality changed.

He would never talk about what happened in that deployment, neither any of his colleagues did. All you knew was something really bad went on there and he lost most of his teammates.

The marriage started to turn sour due to Keegan's sudden PTSD/panic attacks. And they were bad. Its something you never told anyone or ready to talk about.

Needless to say in almost 2 years of your marriage, it ended as abruptly as it began, all on a whim.

The reason keegan's teammates started calling you crazy is due to the fact you just stomped into the Marines base on a fine tuesday to drop the divorce papers. Keegan had a 36 hour shift that day.

And that is how you both divorced.

Everyone thought you both are on your different path now, with someone new. Keegan's friends tried to encourage him to find 'some other chick' or 'plenty fish in the sea' or saying that you were toxic anyway. The boys did their best to encourage the man who got divorced so publicly.

But all their 'encouragement' went to waste.

As it turned out, as soon as keegan's shift ended, he came to the abode which was two days ago a marital home and you both had verbal fight which turned physical in under few moments...

"I CAN'T do this SHIT anymore Keegan", you screamed at him.

Your ex husband has always, by nature, has been quiet man. Only speaking when spoken to and only speaking if necessary.

But on god you ARE something else! You make this usually quiet man want to scream his throat out.

"Couldn't you have waited ONE FUCKING DAY for the divorce?!" He growled.

You two sweared like sailors at each other and then you came a little close to his face pointing your index finger, trying to look intimidating.

Your finger pointed towards him so close triggered his PTSD. He immediately grabbed held your finger then tricep and then he threw you onto the ground on your belly while your arm behind your back.

It all happened so fast you couldn't grasp what even happened. All you knew was your right arm was hurting a little and keegan was on top of you.

Shit. Its started. You know this is one of his panic attacks! You have seen it before but this was new. This has never happened in midst of a 'conversation'.

"Keegan? Babe? Its me y/n babe you need to calm down its just me", you started frantically calm him down. Your chest hurts due to his weight on top of you.

Keegan was in a daze, all that was going in his head was how all his squad died on that fateful day. How he hid under the corpse of a Sargeant, covered in that dead man's blood in order to look like corpse.

He snapped out of it the moment he heard your voice and rolled off of you and laid on the wooden floor with his hand on his chest, heavily panting as if to grasp as much air as possible.

You were finally free of his weight and quickly got up and saddled on him and started to calm him down by gently patting, caressing his face. You started to kiss him.

"It will be okay babe, I'm here, im right here. Its okay, you're safe now." You whispered into his ear while peppering him with your warm kisses.

He was back. He opened his arms to hug you and happily gave in.

He hugged you tight.

"I'm sorry y/n", he mumbled.

And since then, despite being officially Ex husband and Ex wife, you still live in his house and still sleep with him.

Your bond has become more stronger than when you two were 'married'.

You two still fight, but it always ends up in a rough makeout session.

Keegan's teammates will never get why Keegan is with you. But then again, even they know nothing beats 'the crazier the better'.

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M.list