#cow mwii

[l0velylecter]

shining like gun metal, cold and unsure — könig / f!reader

HE TOLD YOU IT FELT LIKE HIS HEART WAS COLLAPSING ON ITSELF. Followed by light-headedness and the need to sit down, König made it sound like you gave him a stroke. Stendhal syndrome, he calls it. A psychosomatic phenomenon where an object of great beauty overwhelms a person to the point of sickness. Shy and unconvinced, you drop your gaze. Seizing the rare moments when he has his hood up to the bridge of his nose, you trace your fingers across his cheeks, asking him if he really found you that beautiful.

“ Natürlich,” He whispered, breath hitching in his throat, “ You consume me, häschen.”

summary : war and art are best observed from a distance ; and yet König finds himself drawn to your beauty, as he is to all things dangerous. [ told through snippets + each scene inspired by a painting ] pairing : könig / f! reader fandom : call of duty modern warfare ii rating : m for mature and suggestive themes, minors don’t interact (mdni!), not safe for work (nsfw!) warnings : brief mentions of injuries tags : afab! reader, female parts, könig being absolutely down bad for you, references to art history / pieces, he doesn’t actually have this aesthetic sickness he’s just trying to rizz you, size difference, tender love making, he gives off the vibe as someone who’d get infatuated ( not in a toxic way tho lol ),  told in parts, small details about reader like wearing earrings mentioned, mild background for reader nothing complex.  word count : 1.3k note : font is normal sized under the cut ! song used for inspiration : art deco by lana del rey 

01| He couldn't pull his eyes away. In rapt attention, he observed the slight tilt of your head, the flutter of your eyelids, and the tremble of your bottom lip. Even when your cheeks were stained with soot and grime, sporting a small, thin cut that burned bright red, you still rendered him speechless. Tears were sliding down your chin. König was never good with people, never good with words. But when you were shivering next to him, frozen in shock — how could he not try? 

He dragged his thumb experimentally over your fingers, testing the waters. You lifted your head to meet his eyes for the first time, and König instinctively looked away, overwhelmed, intimidated. So he settled for cradling your hands, hoping it would ease the fear off your body.

And when your fingers curved around his, gentle like a scallop shell, smooth as a pearl, he let out a shaky sigh: a half gasp that sent you smiling. 

02| It was strange to finally have a face to accompany a name that has always been there: on every contract, every license, every delivery— your small and neat signature would end each sentence like a punctuation mark. An anonymous benefactress, hidden in plain sight. But now, you were speaking on the phone five meters from him, brows furrowed and shoulders slouched. He can sense the worry rolling off you in echoes, and even as he dragged the cloth over the nozzle of his sniper, he kept his gaze glued on you. The pearl earrings clipped against your ear, shining as you turned around. Your eyes glided over his, doing a double take. Curious. Caught in the act, König didn't bother hiding it. Your eyes trailed down the arch of his nose and the chapped skin of his lips, and he realised then that his hood was dangling across his nose. With half his face bared to you, his right hand instinctively flew to rub his stubble, nails scraping the dried gunpowder. The person on the other line called for your attention. Once. Twice. But you were too busy staring back, fingers unconsciously ghosting across your lips. That was his cue to duck his head and pack his gear, leaving you to continue your conversation.

03| König pulled you out of the water, hoisting you to the shore with one arm around your waist. In the background, his company scrambled to get water out of their lungs, some rushing past him to salvage whatever gear they had left. Yet the world fell on deaf ears to König, focused on how you were limp and draped over his chest, numb and cold. 

He pressed his lips against yours, administering two rescue breaths. And he repeated the motion, sealing your mouth over his to blow. When you remained limp, he undid your bulletproof vest, removing the already tattered and soaking shirt underneath to press an ear above your sternum: hoping, praying, for a heartbeat.

With an index finger beneath your ear, he continued with compressions, pace growing sloppy with each second.

Then you started to cough, gasping for air. A few seconds passed where all you could hear was the sea crashing in on itself: the bird, the wind, the rise and fall of his chest. Ignoring the taste of metal and salt on your tongue, you chose to gaze up at him.

It was as if someone had turned the lights on. The tides came to lift the curtains, sweeping away his mask to reveal his face. Drops of seawater from his hair trickled down your cheek. 

When the team found you, König had wrapped a dark, dry cloak over both your bodies to chase away from the cold. With his hand swung protectively across your shoulder, fingers tugging the fabric to cover your bare chest, you sink further into his half-embrace. Even when you were both kneeling, with his size, König covered you: his warmth already taming the goosebumps. The entire time he had his eyes on you, checking, guarding. Without his sniper hood, his pupils shined clearly, a reflection of the sea behind you. A gust of smoke flew overhead, whatever remained of your plane sinking into the waves. The flowers crept from the fields ahead, blooming in between your knees. 

04|The straight razor made a light clink as you lowered it next to the sink, and in the small space of the single-spaced bathroom, you leaned forward to reach for the towel behind his head — his forehead brushing against your ear. You ran your hand over his face, patting the wet cloth gently, checking if the water was warm. And underneath your fingertips, König bloomed: leaning against your touch and chasing after it when you retracted your arm. Outside the window, the clouds began to oppress the sun as it set over the horizon, casting dark, blue shadows over the two of you.

“ You look handsome,” You whispered, earning a small, bashful smile. Beneath your palm, you traced the scars that littered across König's face.

He raised his hand to dwarf yours. Even in this position, with him seated across you, he didn’t have to look up to reach your eye level.

“ And you’re beautiful.”

He told you it felt like his heart was collapsing on itself. Followed by light-headedness and the need to sit down, König made it sound like you gave him a stroke. Stendhal syndrome, he calls it. A psychosomatic phenomenon where an object of great beauty overwhelms a person to the point of sickness. Shy and unconvinced, you drop your gaze. Seizing the rare moments when he has his hood up to the bridge of his nose, you trace your fingers across his cheeks, asking him if he found you that beautiful.

“ Natürlich,” He whispered, breath hitching in his throat, “ You consume me, häschen.”

“ Consume you?”

“Ja. All of me.”

The words came out like a confession, a breath of devotion — reverent and akin to worship. And then, you were kissing him. Two comets stuck in orbit finally colliding, collapsing.

His mouth tasted like when the sky finally breaks to relieve the earth of the heat: cooling, soothing. The first rain in spring. His tongue was eager and heavy against your open mouth. König inhaled the little noises you made, answering in low, long groans, hands desperate against your waist as they pulled you flush against his bare chest. The rain outside growing louder by the minute.

05| Here in the dark, König was a painter, and you were his muse. His hands expertly glided over your over-sensitive bud — dragging his thumb like a brush over your slit. With concentration, he worked you open. Your internal muscles fluttered around him, the jolt of pleasure up your spine stealing your thoughts for a moment.

König continued exploring, working you, his mouth moving over the expense of your body as if it was his canvas: from your neck to your breasts to the inside of your arm, his tongue found pleasure points you didn't even know existed.

The sheets were cool. A delicious counterpoint to the heat. As you arched, legs on either side of his waist and ankles raised to his shoulder, König’s breath hitched as he pushed inside you. Slowly, gently, making you feel every stretch, every inch. 

And within this symbiotic relationship between art and artist, just as he breathes life into you, you inspire him back: dragging your fingertips down the expanse of his shoulder blades as they curl and stretch, leaving a few scrapes and scratches. Your mark. Your signature. 

It was almost comical how a man who screams of death managed to ease you back to life, winter meeting spring, the land dancing with the sea, the sun waiting for the moon: König's grip on you tightened as release washed over you. His lips kissing away the tears down your neck, his chest pressed against yours, heartbeats lulling into one. He followed soon, jerking inside you, mouth eager and wanton against yours. 

Schöne, he tells you.

Schöne.

a/n : this is mostly writing practice / a blurb which is why there’s soo many descriptions + i’ve been getting back into art history so i wanted to see how i can relate the two... i’ve always wanted to try out writing soft and intimate love-making scenes lol i hope i did well. enjoy könig lovers ! <3

information on the paintings 🖼 ( to better understand why i chose them ) :

01| the birth of venus by sandro botticelli it depicts the goddess venus arriving at the shore after her birth, when she had emerged from the sea fully-grown. plato further argued that contemplation of physical beauty allowed the mind to better understand spiritual beauty. so, looking at venus, the most beautiful of goddesses, might at first raise a physical response in viewers which then lifted their minds towards the godly

02| girl with a pearl earring by johannes vermeer some of the first literary treatments of the painting were in poems. for yann lovelock in his sestina, "vermeer’s head of a girl", it is the occasion for exploring the interplay between imagined beauty interpreted on canvas and living experience

03| the kiss by gustav klimt ( he’s austrian so könig probably knows his art well) gustav klimt depicts the couple locked in an intimate embrace against a gold, flat background. the two figures are situated at the edge of a patch of flowery meadow that ends under the woman's exposed feet. the man wears a robe printed with geometric patterns and subtle swirls. art historians have also suggested that klimt depicts the tale of orpheus and eurydice. more specifically, klimt seems to be showing the exact moment when orpheus turns around to caress eurydice and loses his love forever.

04| the kiss by edvard munch the outside world appears vibrant and lively, whereas the interior of the room is timeless, with the couple frozen in their embrace. in this motif, the couple's abstract form, in which the faces of the two appear to be merged as one, indicates their sense of belongingness and togetherness

05| death and the maiden by egon schiele  the painting was created when the painter, after marrying edith harms, was drafted into military service in the first world war. the presence of death, but also the connection between death and eros in several of his works from this period, is associated with this event.  in this painting, the woman clutching the shape of death as her lover, in a monk's robe, loses its horror. 

[mizushibart]

✨self indulgence saturday cow!ghost✨

[bottledwhiskey]

“Why are you looking at me like that?” 🐄🐶

Thank you to @/would_btw on twitter for the hybrid AU

[cod-dump]

Soap: Ah... fine Scottish weather. And by that I mean the rain's comin' almost straight down.

Ghost, looking like a wet cat:

[sergeantwoods]

hii !! welcome to this chaos 😭😭 i’ll give u some of my favorite writers + fics !!

fics !

what did the werewolf eat after getting his teeth cleaned? by lawfulslab is a great one!! human soap with a werewolf team stuff. not a big fan of smut myself, but this one has some at the end if u want !!

through the fire by crisisbasger !! zombie apocalypse au! er nurse soap and ex military ghost. its 9 chapters long, finished, and the first part of a series. theres smut at the end of this as well!

soft to be strong by oshikiri-toru is one of my all time favorites ((: personally, i’m a big fan of selkie!soap ,, so this one is great lol. selkie soap, human ghost. ghost works at an aquarium, and soap, as a seal, gets moved to the aquarium. its a one shot, but its long lmao

solemn prayer, poppy in my hair by congee4lunch ! who doesnt love the “im going to my crushes house as his fake boyfriend!!” trope ?? (its ghost going to meet soaps family as his pretend boyfriend 🤷‍♀️) eventual smut and long fic !

im your home, you’re my home by oshikiri-toru !! I LOOOVE THIS TROPE OMFG 😭 soap and ghost are friends as kids, then ghost moves away. they meet again in the military !! two chapters long !

note to self: drink in moderation by eggtimelads 🙏 silly goofy drunk simon 🥰🥰

seasons by stinglesswasp !!!! i love this one !! i cant give a very good description of it, but it’s a great one. 7 chapters, and eventual smut!

affirmative, sir by wixiany !! long fic !!! one of my all time favorites (: mission goes wrong, everyone goes on leave, and then soaps place gets broken into. he gets sent to ghosts place for a while. this one is domestic, fluffy, and angsty !! heavy make out scene(s?) but no smut (yay for me!!) this is really a great fic lol

my heart in your hands keeps going on by fetteeule i LOVE man, this is so fucking funny. i laughed so many times. ex military soap, military ghost. 5 + 1 fic, “five times ghost didnt want to go on leave v the one time he did,” is the only way i can describe it. eventual smut! 6 chapters!

shift my heart, for it is stone cold by nobujr !!!! DONT EVEN GET ME STARTED. MY FAVORITE OF FAVORITES. its a long fic, currently at chapter 21, and it isn't finished. we've been left at an unfortunate cliffhanger, at the mo' 😔

writers !!

im just gonna list a bunch that i've enjoyed their writing of lol

@/oshikiri-toru (ao3 and tumblr)

@/FetteEule (ao3 and tumblr)

@/MeowMeowRiley (ao3 and tumblr)

@/wispscribbles (ao3 and tumblr [THEY DRAW TO AND THEYRE AMAZING AAA])

@/robiinurheart33 (tumblr. despite not having an ao3 acc, i absolutely adore the stuff they've posted on here!!)

@/WhisperedWords12 (ao3 ?? im not aware if they have a tumblr -- as mentioned before, im not a big fan of smut but of the stuff i've read of them they seem to do a lot of that 🤷‍♀️)

@/mothbeast (ao3 -- not aware that they have tumblr either, but i wouldnt be surprised hh)

@/LawfulSlab (ao3 -- same as last two. out of the three ghoap fics they have, theyre all great!!)

--

i hope these find you well! theres a lot of fics i havent mentioned; and all my favorites are bookmarked under the use 'sergeantwoods' on ao3.

have a good rest of ur day/night !! <3

I have fallen victim to Soap/Ghost and I need fic recs! PLEASE send them my way I’ve been browsing AO3 for hours❤️

[remipaguetis]

Cowboy outfit soap

Full drawing on twitter

https://x.com/remipaguetis/status/1694146186796564507?s=46&t=mkn-UpW9yXiC22va5vnKPw

[l0velylecter]

PLEASEEEE, I need more of Lana Del Rey vinyl coded men a.k.a Philips Graves and Captain Price (maybe a 'million dollar man' inspired(?) fic) if you're still taking request or not busy 🫦🫦 everytime I listen to her, all I can think about are these fine men 😩 your writing is EVERYTHING btw, chef's kiss 👌 also, don't forget to take care of yourself!!! 🫶

(I'll be 🧸 anon if you don't mind 👼)

Look like a million dollar man — captain john price / f!reader 

— “you're screwed up and brilliant, look like a million dollar man”

summary : price takes you to an opera and fucks you in the backseat of his bentley after pairings : captain john price / reader fandom : call of duty modern warfare ii pairing :  f!reader /  captain john price rating : e for explicit, minors don’t interact (mdni!), not safe for work (nsfw!) warnings : graphic descriptions of sex, cursing tags : female parts, kissing, making out, praise kink, size kink, sugar daddy vibes, papa smurf takes you to an opera  alternative title : the cod : mw ii men as lana del rey songs, vol.ii song used for inspiration : million dollar man by lana del rey

01| You stared at your face in the bright, fogged bathroom mirror. This must be a dream. You thought, staring back at the dress, the earrings, the bracelet— everything was bought and gifted to you by Price, right down to the skin. Subsumed, like Venice, into his world. This wasn’t all of it. One last parcel laid unopened by the foot of your bed. The pristine, white bow holding it together gracefully. You glanced worriedly by the window, swallowing your nerves to unwrap it, knowing John would be here soon. When the Bentley pulled up by your driveway, you were already by the door, still adjusting the heels. He was in a black wool overcoat: double-breasted, with gold outlines around the buttons, scarf draped over his shoulders. He lit a cigar and smiled at you: eyes crinkling by the corners with mirth. They paused to admire the necklace : the centerpiece to the carefully crafted costume Price had catered for your date tonight. You released the trembling breath you didn’t know you were holding.

02| He doesn’t start the car right away, lingering to watch you. John didn’t need to say anything. You can tell from the look in his eyes, the hitch in his breath as he cups your cheek to stroke the skin with his thumb. Yet he compliments you anyway. The warmth of his hand as they helped you down the stone steps earlier, still stubbornly clinging onto your fingers. You look exquisite. You hide your smile, and he tips your chin his way, angling your face as if to kiss you — only to retract, starting the car and letting the hum reverberate down the interior. Knowing that if he were to kiss you now, you'd never make it on time.

03| You looked down at the crashing ocean of people beneath. Bright dresses and black tuxedos. The flash of gold and expensive watches and sharp eyes. Above the house, lights started to fade. The sound of shifting fabric dwindled down to a monotonous murmur. You smiled, sinking into the glamor, entertained by the show of music and plot. And in the periphery of your mind, you stole a few glances at John. With your arm around his, resting atop the soft fabric of his suit, he chose you over the performance. You joked that he should pay attention, or else that would be at least a hundred worth of pounds down the drain. He let out a small smile. Thousands, actually. John didn't look the slightest bit remorseful.  04| By the end of the night, draped in his coat, you descend into his cologne — it’s aromatic. He tells you it has patchouli oil from leaves grown in Sumatra. Clove bud oil from Zanzibar, bay oil from the East Indies. Cinnamon and Carnation. Your head feels heady as you parade past the crowd. People were looking, eying you — eying John in an almost envious and approving way. How could they not stare, love? It’s true. The jewelry should be under a sport of lights and protected behind a ten millimetre thick glass instead of around your chest, cold and heavy, sporting two emeralds, hundreds of diamonds, and a litter of fine pearls. You shivered in delight, spine straightening when Price’s fingers skimmed it. Backless dresses. He seemed to have an obsession with that lately. 05| The stretch was almost too much. His cock was thick, leaving you struggling to relax around it.

Breathe. John reminded. You tried, but the further he pushed, the less room there seemed to be for air. Static was overtaking your mind, the heat making you melt into the leather seat. You've only been apart for half a year, and still, your body needed to be accommodated. He's ruined you for other men. There was no one like him. You were sure of it, nails digging into his shoulders.  Just don’t stop. You begged, tears pricking your eyes. Don’t stop.

He tells you how good you are. With each thrust, he emphasized just how sweet and good, and exquisite you are. And suddenly, you were being lifted, gripped by strong arms, and manhandled around to face him, knees on either side of the captain’s hips — cock pulsing inside of you. When you came, you let out a string of ‘thank yous.' They quivered past your lips, your chest heaving up and down: the jewels reflecting the white, translucent light brought by the moon across his face. His beard scratches your chin as he shudders, hot liquid running down your legs and ruining the million-dollar coat around your naked body.

a/n : HI  🧸 ANON THANK YOU FOR REQUESTING THIS, THIS WAS SO FUN FOR ME TO WRITE BECAUSE I AM A FELLOW LANA FAN <3 and i am lowkey obsessed with men who are lana del rey vinyl coded ( this is the consequence of being exposed to her music at such a young age, anyways ) thank you again for requesting, i know you said graves as well but i feel like it’s better to include him in a separate work ! don’t worry though, i have more graves content coming up soon because this silly evil man has me on a chokehold 😔 in the meantime, merry christmas and enjoy this fic ! i hope you’re having a wonderful time with your loved ones, thank you for the sweet reminder to take care of myself ❤️ → also for those curious the bentley i chose as a hc for price is a 2003 Bentley Arnage T !